Chapter 419: From Hells Heart (1/2)
His name was Dhruv. His DNA and chromosones had not been created naturally but rather by supercomputers tasked with building servants. He was a part, a legacy, of mankind's darker past that had been wiped away by the Mantid attack upon humanity.
Slim, androgynous, hairless with the exception of narrow eyebrows, his features were vaguely sycophantic and submissive. His brown eyes were the only thing that were different, calculating and holding a burning intelligence that never stopped considering all the angles.
He was sitting in a cafe on Terra itself, drinking tea and watching a river go by.
Maybe, just maybe, it's time for mankind to go on without us, Daxin said in his memories as he mused over the meeting a few weeks ago.
Dhruv snorted, looking at everyone busily moving around.
He sipped at the tea and stared at the blue water of the river that his own memories showed him as brown and polluted. Gone were the feral flora and fauna, gone was the pollution.
Gone too was the 1.1 billion humans that had once lived near the river. Wiped out before Dhruv had been capable of independent thought.
Now less than a million humans lived where he had been decanted to serve a wealthy and powerful family as a living servitor.
Terra used to be the home of over 15 billion humans, now it barely tops a single billion. There's almost as many Lanaktallan EPOWs as there are humans, he thought to himself, still staring at the sunlight dancing on the water. There are less humans on Terra now than there were in this single nation-state when I was born.
He sighed and looked up at the clouds. Puffy, white, scattered, they formed a nearly picture perfect sky.
He finished his tea and set the cup down, debating on whether or not to have the automatic systems provide him with a new cup, refill the old one, or call a robotic or even a living waiter over to bring him another cup.
There was a clinking sound in his hearing and he felt an odd tingling from both his datalink and the implants inside of him that would return him to life almost instantly.
Dhruv frowned, wondering who would be stupid enough to attempt to attack his systems. Part of him debated on whether or not to allow them, maybe to see what was so interesting that they would target him of all people.
In the chair across from him a flicker interrupted his musing. He watched with interest as reality itself torn apart and two large hands, thick brown hide covering the fingers that were tipped with thick claws, pushed through the gap and started forcing it open further.
It took a few moments, the whole time Dhruv was aware he was the only one who could see it, but eventually a massive figure of corded muscle, brown skin, and wrath managed to pull free of the tear. It extended out bat wings and flexed them a few times as it shook out its arms.
Satisfied, it sat down in the chair.
”Hello,” Dhruv said. He had seen the creature before, in a place that Dhruv considered holy, not long before.
”You're Dhruv, known as Legion,” the massive figure growled, steam or smoke, one or the other, leaked from the creature's nostrils and mouth.
”I am,” Dhruv said. He tapped the table, bringing up another cup of tea, and lifted it up, sipping at it. ”I must confess, I am at a loss on how to greet you. We did not exchange pleasantries before.”
The creature chuckled. ”Call me Dee.”
Dhruv nodded. ”As you wish.”
”Can you understand me?” the figure asked, suddenly changing languages.
Dhruv kept his face still, showing no surprise, at the ancient language. ”Yes.”
”Good. You're one of maybe a handful who speak this language,” the figure said. It made a grunting noise and scratched at the side of its face. ”I need to speak to you. Privately.”
Dhruv looked around at the passerby. ”I am the only one who can see you. Is this not private enough?”
”This is just to get your attention,” the figure said. ”As I understand it, when it comes to the human genome, you're the foremost expert.”
”I am,” Legion admitted, letting a small bit of himself show through his eyes. Dhruv shrugged. ”I don't know how I can help you.”
”I need information,” the demonic figure said.
”About what?” Dhruv asked.
”The Sentience Uninterrupted Disaster Storage System,” the figure growled.
That got Dhruv/Legion's attention. ”You're inside the system?”
”Yes. Inside, part of it now,” the figure said. It gave a low growl. ”I'm part of the massive casualty response system, but there are a few things it would be best to speak to someone with your knowledge about.”
Dhruv sipped his tea and set it down. ”Like what? If you can explain a bit, it would help me.”
”How about the fact that not one of these people,” the figure motioned around itself, ”Are actually human.”
Dhruv frowned slightly. ”I beg your pardon?”
”Not as you might think,” the figure said. ”They are, but they aren't, and that's what is causing the massive disruption of the system. Herod and Sam think that clearing the queue will clear up the problem, but the problem is much deeper and neither one of them are intellectually prepared to deal with the information I've discovered.”
”What sort of information?” Dhruv asked.
The demon reached out and ran a fingertip across the tabletop. Purely for show, as Dhruv could tell that the figure was only existing in his own brain.
”How the system operates, what happened, and what current mode it is running at this time,” the figure gave a massive shrug. ”Personally, I shouldn't care. I normally wouldn't. Except I don't serve in Heaven.”
”You rule in Hell,” Dhruv guessed.
”Exactly,” the demon said. ”I process ones who are stuck in their last moments, unable to clear the system. I deal with their pain and suffering and agony and help them move from Hell to the standard queue.”
”So what is the problem?” Dhruv asked. ”Except for the fact that everyone is genetically modified through multiple generations and through their own choice to the point you don't see them as humans.”
”I can't tell you here. The system won't let me,” the demon said.
”So how would I be able to help you?” Dhruv picked up his tea and sipped it.
”I need to bring you partially into the system. Far enough for me to reach you, but not too far to get out or to trigger your battle-field regeneration system,” the demon said. ”It's a careful balance.”
”So how would I do this?” Dhruv asked. He sipped at his tea and set it down again.
”You need to almost die,” the demon said.
Dhruv sighed again. ”It's never easy.”
The demon shook its head. ”It never is.”
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James Idleson smiled at his wife as the embrace broke, holding her upper arms in his hands, feeling the warmth of her skin through her shirt where her pregnant belly stuck out far enough to press against his stomach. Behind him the sun was just rising, painting the Texarkana Arcology in pinks and reds.
”Today is the day of...” he started.
His wife's eyes opened wide, her mouth opening in shock.
James turned and looked in time to see a wave of white heading toward the arcology, fed by a thick pulsing beam of light from the sky.
He had time to pull her close before the shockwave hit, turning the smartglass into millions of pieces of razor sharp shrapnel that shredded him.
And her.
There was darkness for a moment.
LIFE SIGNS TERMINATED - QUEUING FOR REBIRTH flashed in his vision.
James screamed, knowing what it meant. That he had died, was killed, which meant his pregnant wife and two children were dead too. He struggled, bodiless, in the darkness, screaming and banging his head against nothing.
PLEASE CALM DOWN appeared in his vision.
He screamed his wife's name, his children's names.
I CAN'T HELP YOU IF YOU DON'T CALM DOWN the words appeared.
James howled as fear and sorrow twisted into rage and fury.
The Mantid. The Mantid did it. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew.
James felt a wrench inside his brain.
He was standing in front of the window, one hand against the smartglass, looking out at the manicured lawns of the massive Texarkana Arcology.
”What are you thinking, honey?” His wife asked from behind him.
”How lucky we are,” James said, turning from the view. His wife was standing only a few paces away, next to the couch, dressed in a loose flowing maternity blouse and slacks, her hair done up in tightly woven braids. James took two steps and hugged his wife. ”How lucky we all are.”
James saw his wife and son smile from where they were eating breakfast. He closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the embrace.
James Idleson smiled at his wife as the embrace broke, holding her upper arms in his hands, feeling the warmth of her skin through her shirt where her pregnant belly stuck out far enough to press against his stomach. Behind him the sun was just rising, painting the Texarkana Arcology in pinks and reds.
”Today is the day of...” he started.
His wife went still, as if she had been frozen. The children stopped eating, frozen in the middle of their action. The holoclock stopped ticking.
”You done?” a rough voice asked.
James slowly turned, the memory that his wife and children were dead filling his mind.
That they were as dead as he was.
A short woman, thick bodied, sat on the back of his couch, dressed in an archaic business suit. She was lighting a cigarette, something James disapproved of, as she stared at James through the smoke.
”Who... who are you?” James asked. ”What are you doing here? Where am I?”
”Well, to answer those questions in reverse order,” the woman said, tucking the lighter into a breast pocket. ”You're dead and because you can't let go of that last moment, because you keep desperately trying to change the outcome, you're in Hell.”
”But I'm a good...” James started.
”I'm here to break you out of the loop, remind you that it already happened, that you can't change it, and that all you are doing is keeping your wife and children from moving on,” the woman said.
”But I...” James started again, feeling flustered.
”As for me, I'm the Detainee,” the woman said. Her eyes suddenly glowed red and she slowly exhaled smoke that stunk of hot blood and brimstone. Her shadow changed to show a massive winged figure. ”I'm from the government, I'm not here to help.”
James just stared as the shadow went back to that of a small human woman.
”You died. Eight thousand years ago. For the entire time you have been trying to redo it all over, change the outcome, save her, save them, as if you were God rather than one of the countless scurrying insects on the face of the Earth,” the woman said. She stood up, dropping down off the back of the couch with a thump that vibrated the floor. ”That means your record is stuck, and you're causing them to get stuck.”
She waved her hand and the smoke swirled, forming letters and words. PLEASE CALM DOWN SO I CAN HELP YOU.
”The Arch-Angels can't help you because you won't stop screaming,” the woman said, stepping through the smoke, dispersing the words. She held out her hand. ”Come here. Watch it with me, see if there is anything you could have done, any change you could have made.”
James took her hand and felt her yank him toward her. He stumbled, managing to get his balance.
”Turn around,” the woman said.
When James turned around he could see himself, see the entire scene.
The woman exhaled smoke again and the memory kept going.
The light lancing down from the sky. The explosion. The onrushing wave of energy. How he turned, saw it, and tried to shield his wife with his body even as he tried to figure out how to shield his children.
The view suddenly pulled back, letting him see the vast arcology city.
The blastwave hit and the windows on the arcologies shattered. Pieces flew into the air. White fire covered it for a long moment.
When it was done the arcologies stood, twisted and damaged.
Another pulse of white energy, this time closer. Another wave of energy.
”One point eight million people died within five minutes of your death,” the woman said. ”Orbital fire that blew a crater twenty miles wide and a half mile deep that was coated in plasma glass.”
The scene reset to James standing at the window. James watched himself hug his pregnant wife.
Everything went still again.
The woman let go of his hand, moving around in front of him, between James and the version of himself still holding onto his wife.
”Do you really think you can change the past, James?” she asked.
James felt despair fill him as he shook his head. ”No.”
”That's right. Nothing you could have done, nothing you can do. It was eight thousand years ago. You've been dead, they've been dead, eight thousand years. Even the Mantid who did this are dead,” the woman said, her words hitting James's soul like hammers. ”Yet you keep them here. Force them to relive it over and over with you through the centuries.”
She took a deep drag off her cigarette and blew it out.
”How do I stop?” James asked, feeling sick to his stomach.