Idols

“Where are we?” I ask.

Ro flops down next to me. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Doc?”

Lucas sighs. “Offline. Still. Ever since we took off.”

“What do we have?” Ro calls out, and Fortis shakes his head, dumping the packs next to us.

“Not much that didn’t burn in the fire. A piss pot an’ a pea pod. No real rations. Less water. I’d say we have enough to last two days, three tops.” Fortis taps on his cuff, but all I hear is a flash of static.

Lucas tosses a branch into the fire. “All right, then. A couple days. There has to be something around here. Someone, anyway.”

“Who knows if we even have that long?” I look up at him. “We barely escaped the ambush at Nellis—and now this? The Sympas will have us back in the Pen before we have the luxury of starving to death.”

“Maybe there’s a Grass camp nearby?” Ro says it, but we’re all thinking the same thing.

There isn’t.

There’s nothing out here. We knew that when we left Nellis Base—when the Sympas attacked and we didn’t care where we ended up. But we should have, because now here we are.

Stuck.

Ro tries again. “We can’t just sit here waiting to die. Not after what we did to the Icon in the Hole. We gave those people a chance—we gave ourselves a chance. If we don’t take it, who will? What then?”

We all know the answer to that. The Lords will destroy our people while the Sympas laugh.

Ro turns to Fortis. “There has to be a way out of here. A Merk outpost? Geo station? Anything?” Ro is relentless. Inspiring, almost.

And absolutely crazy.

“There’s your fightin’ spirit,” Fortis says, clapping him on the back. “An’ here’s my fightin’ spirits.” He pulls out his flask, slumping down to the desert floor next to me. And that’s his real answer, I think.

“Ro’s right. We can’t give up.” I look at him. “Not now. Not after everything.”

Not after the Embassy. The Hole. The Icon. The Desert. Nellis.

Fortis pats my leg, and I wince. “Give up, Grassgirl? We’re only just gettin’ started. Don’t send me off to an early grave yet, love. I’m too young and too pretty to die.”

The fire throws shadows on his face, hiding his eyes, grossly exaggerating his stubbled, bone-tight features. At this particular moment, he looks like some kind of evil puppet from a child’s nightmare.

Barely human.

“You know, you’re not all that pretty,” I say, my throat still full of dust.

He laughs, more like a bark, pocketing his flask. “That’s what my mum said.” As he draws his arm around me I can only shiver.

Then Tima groans awake, clutching her arm, and I forget about everything but staying and being alive.

GENERAL EMBASSY DISPATCH:

EASTASIA SUBSTATION

MARKED URGENT

MARKED EYES ONLY

Internal Investigative Subcommittee IIS211B

RE: The Incident at SEA Colonies

As promised.

Below are excerpted records of communication between Fortissimo (“FORTIS”) and his AI (HAL2040—the early iteration of the somewhat rudimentary Virtual Human we know as “Doc”). These are initial attempts by Fortissimo and his AI to contact the foreign object first thought to be an asteroid, and thus labeled Perses, proving early awareness of potential threat.

Note: Fortissimo’s use of “hello world” (in this case, done in multiple languages) is an ancient programming trope. Displaying the phrase “hello world” indicates success in getting a new machine to connect to its network, to communicate, or show some intelligence. By human standards. (Note: Physical Humans, that is. Virtual Human standards are by nature much higher.)

Yours,

Jasmine3k

Virt. Hybrid Human 39261.SEA

Laboratory Assistant to Dr. E. Yang

HAL2040 ==> FORTIS

Transcript - ComLog 04.13.2042

HAL::PERSES

//lognote: {PERSES communication attempt #413};

sendfile: ascii.tab;

sendfile: dict.glob.lang;

//lognote: as before, sending files with dictionaries/text protocols;

sendline: hello world;

return: . . . . . no response;

sendline: 01101000 01100101 01101100 01101100 01101111 0100000 01110111 01101111 01110010 01101100 01100100;

return: . . . . . no response;

sendline: 48:65:6c:6c:6f:20:57:6f:72:6c:64;

return: . . . . . . no response;