Excerpt 1 Chapter 2: A Short in the Dark
The fundamental difference between a machine and an organic is how they make a decision or at least the method of decision making. Put under stress or duress an organic will make a decision that it would not normally make, as for the machine this is virtually impossible outside of felonious interference. This forms the basis for what makes a hero, why a machine can never be one and what is innately good or evil.
The smell of heavily ionised air is not the first thing you want to wake up to neither is the remnants of a late night out. Turning over and sniffing at the air she noticed it was pitch black, if even slightly aware of her surroundings she might have found this most unusual especially for a swarm city. She reaches over, flailing, trying to find the communication device in the darkness to no avail. Recently they have been made smaller and smaller to the point where most organics wear them as fashionably small rings, on the smallest appendage of their most favourably evolved limbs. It’s not unusual to lose one but what brought her around from her daze faster than she would have thought possible, was the complete absence of the bedside shelving unit altogether. She reached up pressing her hand against an unusually cold and smooth wall with a texture like fabric- however firm and responsive not unlike living metal. She knew where she was in an instant. A processing room most likely somewhere in the first quarter with the implication that she had been transported tens of lightyears, almost certainly in stasis and without her knowledge dragged from her room in a chemically induced sleep. The thought of being treated like a parcel lingered, the young city dweller thought about how much she hated this part, even if she had agreed to it.
Tentatively pressing one very cold foot down on to the even colder floor that, like the walls, was textured and somehow metallic feeling, if that’s even a describable sensation. The lighting panels on the far side of the room kicked into being. Six small white panels with an oddly narrow but tall door between the fourth and fifth. Letna found the offset nature of the exit disturbing. Shaking off the thought, she progressed to the small neatly folded pile of her very recognisable clothes and what seemed like a few additional small trinkets nearby that were apparently meant for her. She didn’t know what to do with them besides stuffing them into the single strapped small hide pouch that she slung over one shoulder, having spent some time half-heartedly dressing herself.
Her boots for which she was very glad to have considering the increasingly low-temperature environment she now found herself in, had been bought in the city from which she had been snatched away from. Functional, fashionable and very useful, with metal alloy fiber woven through the ankle supports, soles and sides of the boot. Making them lightweight but durable, arguably the most useful feature being the gentle heat they produced. Converting the energy of each step into a very comfortable infra-red warmth that greatly improver her mood. Now in higher spirits Letna had decided to press the exit for information, mostly regarding as to whether it was in fact, an exit.
Having barely acknowledged the door’s existence it popped open confirming its role and allowing her to exit the box she had inhabited for what she suspected might have been longer than a single night cycle, given the dull ache in her right shoulder and neck. Progressing down the dim artificially lit and windowless corridor heading directly away from the room she left, eventually reaching another albeit very similar, narrow and disturbingly tall door Again, it was offset favourably to the right but this time only by a couple of inches. Approaching the door did nothing this time, confused she took a moment to even realise the gentle tugging at the left side of her trousers coming from beneath her tightly knotted jacket, which sat around her waist. One of the trinkets had apparently of its own will decided to become heavier pulling itself toward the floor and threatening to take her belted trousers with it. Pulling or more like heaving it from her pocket she decided that the sharp-edged small black oval fitted perfectly into the center-right of the door, where one might expect a handle. Popping open, the door seemed to blur before swinging open, perfectly flush against the left wall of the entranceway. Feeling like she had completed a tutorial and having recovered the small trinket, Letna progressed further inside with the disturbing door closing awkwardly behind her.
After finally getting used to the metallic stench of the air, the room ahead confronted her with a similar if not altogether different smell, something like a handful of ancient currency. This would be an odd comparison for a normal person but Letna was a specialist in young botched civilisations. For approximately eighty years- a relatively recent hobby that had meant metal-based currency was all too familiar to her. The small alcove to which she entered expanded rapidly into a much larger room, in fact calling it a room seemed unfair when it was now more like a warehouse with marginally superior furnishings. A few small chairs and an uncomfortably low standing table sat in the middle of the gargantuan room, in front of a large floor to ceiling pillar. It was completely smooth and emitting a dull leaden blue light that slightly hurt the back of the eyes if looked at directly. This pillar was immediately followed by another some meters away and another repeating until out of sight, disappearing into the dull leaden-blue abyss of the warehouse.
Letna rubbed her aching hip having been still for much too long, consequently deciding that sitting in the small uncomfortable chairs for what must have been several hours, was enough. She stood up, spun around and did a few small stretches, examining the pillar at the same time. Only to be greeted mid-stretch by whatever higher being had decided to make her wait so long. Embarrassed, she retracted her outstretched leg and acknowledged the two blank white squares that appeared on the face of the nearest pillar. The synthesized voice suggested she take a seat to make herself more comfortable before offering some food and beverages, something the voice thought organics were all too fond of.
Carefully declining the offer to sit, Letna accepted a hot tea-like drink with a distinct plastic aftertaste and some rather displeasing nutrient cubes, which she knew were made to contain caffeine, fructose and plenty of iron. In an attempt she thought, to boost concentration and remove the distraction of any actual food. Another ploy by this synthesised nuisance? It looked at her and sighed, though this sounded more like a quiet hum than a sigh, but got the point across before it reluctantly proposed;
“Perhaps a walk then?”
Letna followed the two white squares down further into the warehouse as they glid gently from pillar to pillar, flickering periodically when they jumped from surface to surface. Both constantly faced her, which in all honesty was more than a little bit distressing as they appeared to maintain constant eye contact the whole time. Or at least they attempted to, as she gradually took to looking down at her feet.
Unannounced to Letna her heart rate began to gradually increase, beating faster and faster. Nerves she thought, just as the synthesized voice decided to introduce itself as Moat. More to do with its official function rather than out of preference it jibed.
“What do you know of your current predicament?” It began.
Shifting her weight onto her not quite as sore hip “Little, just that I have agreed to a sensitive observational task”. Letna had wanted to continue but was cut off by the machine.
“I understand” said the machine sounding apologetic.
“That’s Intel not pulling their weight again. You are here as an ambassador of sorts for a recent discovery outside the sixteenth quarter”.
“Fucking what!” Letna yelled forgetting herself, her aching arm, and everything else as she passed out onto the floor, which rose up to meet her.
Moat quickly recited a script as she phased in and out of the conversation.
“It has been pleasant to meet you Letna. I’m afraid the brief exercise sped up the process of the cubes you ingested. I have deemed you suitable for this appointment and will be in contact with you in approximately Fifty-two rotations, where we can continue this conversation.”
Letna felt her heart racing as she effectively blinked out of consciousness “I didn’t ag…” she mumbled and then went limp. Moat apologised quite unnecessarily to the unconscious Letna as it transported her back the way they had come. A wave of small pillars rising out of the ground carefully repositioning the unconscious humanoid, transporting it back in a preordained dead straight line to the small box room, passing cleanly through the offset doors and back into bed as Moat still insisted on talking to itself.
“Afterall I doubt you would have agreed otherwise”.
Moat hummed a synth tune and continued its more mundane tasks, including organising a reliable porter for a most important parcel.
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Probably full of typos but that’s ok! Just let me know!
