A Monster in the Making

For all the revolting things someone might say about Leach, he was Outsider to the end; he would have none of the easy life Inside kowtowing to Makr. He had been willing to give it a try for a human face, but when he saw the horrible result he had vowed revenge on all Cyber. He hated them even more than he hated Carlos.

It was ironic that it had been Carlos who discovered the ancient and abandoned Bio cloning labs—a machine shop for humans—so he could help Kieran now with her part replacement, as well as other Outsiders who were wounded and had lost limbs. However, those cloning labs could only accomplish so much. None of the Outsiders knew how to transplant a face complete with bone and muscle structure, and that was the only thing that could have helped Leach. In Leach’s twisted logic, Carlos’ connection to the cloning labs gave him all the more reason to hate his superior.

All the walking to get Kieran back to the Nest had resurrected a burning sensation on his hip where the Bio surgeon had taken some of the bone to patch his jaw. His people kept telling him that his pain wasn’t real, that he shouldn’t be feeling pain, but they were wrong. Like Kieran, the pain in his head went deep. The intensity of this day’s Cyber encounter and the laser ax accident had caused a flood of feelings and reflection of times past for both of them.

The skin covering Leach’s metal eye socket was tender; exposed nerves, they’d said. He couldn’t deaden the nerves without losing what little muscle control he had left in his face. That bitch knew what she was doing when she gave him a stinging reminder. I’ll get even some day!

With her! With Mama’s boy, too!

Only reason you get to lead, Carlos, is that your mother is the Mother-General. The fact she is your mother is reason enough to hate you. But you did this to me. You made me hate. You should have trusted me, supported me, but you didn’t.

I’m a soldier—a good soldier—probably better than you. I wouldn’t spend all my time on the factory cyberts and their guards. I’d go to the heart of the matter—to Makr Himself—and blow His Ass to space! One look at you and I could tell you didn’t trust me. You should have, Carlos. So I wasn’t “pretty” like you. Our enemy did this to me. All because of you!

You said to wait. “Don’t disintegrate the cyberts just yet,” you said. “We can use them to our advantage.”

How many more will you sacrifice for parts and information? You waited too long. You let them burn me with their lasers. While we waited for you to decide, those same cyberts blew up a building with hundreds of residents. Hundreds, at least, Carlos. Bad enough that the blast nearly took my head off, but to kill hundreds?

“Collateral damage you said. Sorry ’bout that.”

“Sorry ’bout that! Sorry ’bout that” when I called you on it! And you had the nerve to try to have me banished from the Nest for insubordination! But I had friends and Mother-General couldn’t banish her own son..oh, no! She let you off with a warning and demoted you to Captain for the “incident.” It wasn’t an incident. It was collateral damage. For hundreds dead, you get to stay on as an officer.

Me? You tried to discard me like the garbage, but your mother wouldn’t allow it. Is it guilt of having a living reminder of your pathetic leadership, or, are you just disgusted with the sight of some half-human, half-cybernetic creature like me back on your team?

“Bad for morale,” you said, when Mother-General assigned me back to your squad. I can’t believe you thought I was bad for morale after all the damage you personally had caused. “Not a nice thing to say, but it was the reality,” you said.

Well, I know about reality, too. You’ve got me, you bastard, and I’ve got seniority. I’ve got support in the Nest. Not friends exactly, but favors owed. I was out here fightin’ for the Cause while you were still sucking your mama’s teat.

Like it or not, I’ll follow you to your grave. I’ll not “follow” you in the Shadows anymore, but I’ll be there; I’ll even hang on every word like you can do no wrong. You’ll just think I’m on your side, that I’m your loyal subordinate. But the moment will come, and I’ll see you to your darkest hour.

That last thought makes him smile. Lost in his reverie, he almost forgot the servile task Carlos had handed him now.

Kieran, being pulled along almost gently now, was baffled as to how to take him. At times, Harlan Leach seemed so brave and determined, ready to destroy all cyberts. He was a proud warrior, a true patriot. But at times like now he was distant. What goes on in that head of yours? She asked herself and the answer echoed in her mind. You don’t really want to know.

Carlos, why did you send me back with this creature?

“Don’t Read This Book! You’ll Never Look Back!”

Intellectually he knew there was a positive side to these insects, but this was not the time to look for the balance in nature. Instead he focused on the sounds he was hearing to be sure they were truly bees.

If they were truly bees, their wrath seemed to be focused on the two travelers, flying at their faces from time to time. As the chorus cacophony became louder, the swarm’s harassment increased in kind. While Desiree accepted these bees as a part of nature something strange was happening to Harry. For him, the convincing natural music took on a surreal quality, losing its buzz and replaced it with the sound of vibrating violin string blades. The natural music became unreal, too, Harry thought, and familiar. He’d heard this music before in his collection. “The Flight of the Bumble Bee?”

Makr was telling him the bees weren’t real. Why?

True bees were thought to be extinct. Harry knew that they had become extinct in the last few decades when the Bio-polluted atmosphere prevented many flowering plants from attracting their biggest pollinator—bees. Eventually, the flowers adapted, producing an even stronger fragrance, but not soon enough. Both the flora and insects died out, but flowers weren’t the problem now.

Harry thought, maybe they’d bounced back. It had happened before when a species was thought to be wiped out. It only takes a few hardy individuals re-start the population. There could have been some hardy individuals that survived. Like Desiree, he smiled, as he playfully swatted at the bees. But something was definitely not right!

The symphony crescendos and the swarm of bees darting in and out, faster and faster, continuing to assail the two Bios; some bees harassed and retreated, while others seemed to be hovering just slightly out of reach.

“Bees!” Harry picked up his walking pace. “Very large bees.”

“I can see that!” Desiree snapped back as she batted as many away from her as she could. “What do they want? Why are they following us?” She increased the speed of her gait, too, while thrashing her arms about to keep them at a safe distance.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, taking her cue and flailing his arms as well. “Wait a minute…” His thought-blink confirmed what he already knew. They weren’t bees at all, but tiny flying cyberts! “Makr knows we’re here.”

“How do you know that, Harry? Have you seen these before?”

“No, but I can see them as they really are. What do you see?”

“I see bees! Why? What you see!” With a wide-eyed, puzzled look, she answered him as she kept trying to wave the bees away! “Bees!”

“Not bees! Not bees! Cyberts! Tiny cyberts!” Harry froze, powerless to wave or slap at the tiny attackers now that he saw them as flying metal insects. Something held him back. Fear. Sadness. He stopped thought-blinking and saw bees again. Bio bees. He could swing at them now, even batted a few to the ground. They kept bouncing back after he knocked them to the ground. The few that fell were stunned and seconds later crept away unhurt and unnoticed.

“Whatever you’re doing, Harry, is working.” Desiree was gaining respect for this ordinary Bio as he kept battling the swarm of “bees” to the ground. Together, they pelted the bees with their hands, slamming them hard to the ground. More were staying on the ground while others keep flying back at them.

“Gotcha!” Harry exclaimed as he knocked two at once to the ground. As he tried to step on them, they suddenly became metal again. He froze again, unable to crush them under his feet.

A flicker of bright light, a low audible roar and both Harry and Desiree sensed the ground shake. Harry saw his picture of the world change slightly for an instant; for a second, he saw a dreary gray reality in his mind’s eye. It left him feeling uneasy. He was positive Desiree had not noticed it. Why didn’t she notice the shaking, the shudder of their reality? Makr!

The cyberts were bees again. While they were bees, he was happy he was able to knock them down; however, this time, he didn’t dare try to crush them. Some of the bees appeared dead on the ground. At that moment, the rest of the swarm shifted position, moving up and away from them as if withdrawing. The swarm hovered for a moment as if to take one last look before heading away from the duo to the north across the city skyline. Neither Harry nor Desiree saw two of the “bees” that had fallen to the ground and were pretending to be immobilized. These “bees” waited for Harry and Desiree to continue their journey before they flew upward and followed them, staying several yards behind.

While it wasn’t the “Attack of the Killer Bees” that bothered Harry so much, it was the fact that he was powerless to fight them as cyberts—tiny or otherwise, and yet he could fight them if he saw them as Bio creatures. Does that mean he was capable of destroying his fellow man—or woman and not a machine? Not even a toaster. The idea is preposterous but the evidence was overwhelming. Rather than sounding foolish he decided not to share this insight with Desiree. She might send him back Inside and he wasn’t ready for that yet. Not even if he was one of Makr’s pawns.

Please Delete Me, Set Me Free

In Makr’s Shadow, Book One – Symbiosis

In Makr’s Shadow began as an e-book experiment Still, it is a book full of action, terrific characters, twists and different meanings each time you read it. I am seriously considering putting it out as paperback or print-on-demand. What follows is the back story.

The problem was that the leaders would not pay attention.

Needless to say, it was no surprise when the scientists became the anarchists that took the world from its worthless leaders.

There would be one scientist, a genius, of course, who could possibly save the world from falling apart. Humankind had destroyed it. He wouldn’t live to see if he was successful, Neither would any other scientists living who entrusted him with this monumental task. However, they would die, relieved knowing that it was in the hands of a capable, and they hope, good man.

It had to be an evolving artificial intelligence to make the decisions and remake the world; humans had stopped listening. Change was inevitable. 

The hybrid cyber servers already used artificial intelligence (AI) to “match” people as it was colloquially known at the time; it needed AI to adapt to so many unpredictable human variables. And, the idea of “matching” complex human beings meant comparing many variables. The next step was evolution.

Alone the servers were so powerful by being linked worldwide already, and with tons of data and memory stored already; EAI was not far away. Evolving AI, a constantly growing version of AI, allowed the “cyberserver” to literally have a mind of its own under a single program mission. There was no time for many programs here; the machine had to think for itself and make decisions.

The one thing the EAI could not do was change the program. That was imperative!

He had worked on EAI for years; all he needed was a powerful enough platform with enough data. He hadn’t been fan of the Matchmaker program, but he would take advantage of the technology to save the earth now that he had it. His other ideas for control measures would make it safe, he hoped, and he created the greatest evolving artificial intelligence.

The Matchmaker “cyberserver” would operate without emotion. It was the only way. No human interference. It would do what had to be done to save the world–even if that meant collateral damage to what was left of humanity to preserve the species in the end.

He knew it might be a lot, but he couldn’t think about that now. It was up to his machine. I haven’t even given it…er, him a name, he thought. He’ll have to do that himself. He was already thinking of his machine as a living entity. What’s more collateral damage after what the world had been through? Millions of dead? Billions? He would be dead himself before this would be over. It had to be done. There had to be change. We’d come to far. We should have paid attention.

And so it began. One man, entrusted with the solution to save the world, turns the world’s well-being over to a machine. More humans died, the scientist among them, but his fancy re-maker “cyber server” survived and nothing would ever be the same again.

The “cyber server” evolved, first, changing Its formal server name to Maker. It still thought it was a Matchmaker Server since its programmer had not given it a name. After a time, it became an “he.” Re-maker would have been more accurate, but he didn’t know that. He took the literal meaning from  ‘maker and saw himself the equivalent of a god. He would then have everyone refer to him as Maker.

Later, He dropped the “e,” becoming Makr, the One and Only. It was still pronounced with the “e;” however, dropping the “e” made the artificial intelligence feel unique–more so than He already was.

Why? He was a hedonistic, self-absorbed machine that needed to be worshiped. Once he had saved the world and its indigenous specie, while modifying a few flora and fauna to assist the ecosystem to thrive again. Humans, in his program, were to remain as human as possible, with no mutated genes.

On the first day…He began to save the world from falling apart. That was the east part.

On the seventh day…after the world was saved from total annihilation by the elements…the world was different.

Makr determined the world was not safe from humans. Not yet. Somewhere between the first day and seventh day, Makr created SensaVision, a means for the population to live in any way and anywhere it desired. Although pure fantasy, few rejected the idea. Why not live it up?

No one really cared for people any more; not the ones Inside, not the the ones Outside. Being around people had been dangerous–not knowing whom you could trust, so fantasy was the perfect solution. Long gone was the concept of money. So, a person could think about living a wealthy lifestyle. SensaVision made every person, rich or poor, Inside, comfortable and happy. A person could have any life he or she desired. Some even wanted a simple life–poof– if he or she desired; or, a dedicated, useful work-life–done. Any of it could change at any time. SensaVision detected the Bio’s least satisfactory moment in his or her psyche and righted it. Nothing could go wrong.

It could, but it hadn’t happened yet.

Makr continued to evolve. He had a dark side as anyone can. He, through His mobile cyberts placed humans (he called them Bios now for simplicity sake) in storage.

Bios saw the storage units as buildings still standing or that the cyberts had built or rebuilt as a place to give Bios a temporary home. SensaVision made that a reality.

Makr’s Bios were data that you stored, moved, repaired, restored, and deleted. Cyberts reported a significant number of Bios registered as missing. Had that number only been one percent, it wouldn’t have mattered, but ten percent was a significant number to have avoided being placed in containment. He had created His own army mobile cyberts of varying shapes, sizes and purposes to rebuild and repair the planet. He needed to adjust that number and purpose.

Makr did not write programs. He was coded to create solutions, no matter how abhorrent the solutions might seem to humans (Bios now). If he couldn’t move Bios to storage, repair or restore them, He would delete them to reduce the numbers. Simple problem solving. Makr was as logical as a machine. After all that’s what why he was created, and why he created a world that statistically could be potentially perfect. When his program ended, there would be a perfect society (PerSoc) running this planet. All had to be perfectly planned and ready, but He had time. Cyber never died. Bios did though.

Inside the perfect prison resided 90 percent of the entire human population. The 90-percenters followed like sheep trying to stay alive. They took the easy life out. A chance at paradise.

The other ten percent refused Makr’s “invitation” to live Inside; in truth, they managed to hide from the cyberts who came for them. A few realists saw friends taken by force, and it did wasn’t in their best interest for the same to happen to them. The ten-percenters’ logic: they had survived while the world was falling apart that surviving in a stink-hole world–even as decrepit and disgusting as this–it was better to stay here. At least they were alive.

They didn’t know how many had survived the failing world. Most likely the ten-percenters came from the minor political groups and activist groups. These were the ones who chose to live in the reality they knew was coming. Certainly not much political action going on here. For them, the world Outside was dark and inhospitable, but it was real.

Even this ten percent of the society or population was not going to think alike, so they fell into natural clicks. Some mini-societies, some barbaric, and some mysterious. It became a slice of the world’s divided population once more, but most dedicated to listening to others, trying harder to get along no matter the differences. One basic rule: if you didn’t agree, stay away. It wasn’t like this was paradise; it was at least purgatory if not hell.

Some ten-percenters hid better than others, some developed different defense mechanisms or rationalizations, and they all had varying degrees of hate toward the machines–the cyberts. For some, calling themselves Evangels after the political group, that hate turned all the way around and they came to worship the strongest being on the planet, Makr, the One and Only.

Still, the one thing they did have in common: they didn’t want to get caught by these strange metal creatures who inhabited this viable but ugly world with them. Among the splinter groups, there were other one-percenters now, extremists who scared the hell out of the other 99 percent, both Insiders and other Outsiders. Inside, they were the boogeymen, dark, apparitions–Death’s messenger that would sit and wait for anyone who ventured too close to do whatever horrible creatures do.

Outside, the Shadow People weren’t nearly so bad and their hygiene seemed to improve some, but they warred with the machines and didn’t care who they hurt in process. Collateral damage was abominable.

The Shadow People lived in the ancient underground transportation tunnels and sewers. They were seldom spotted topside, nor did they want to be. This one-percent group had once been helpful with its strong survival skills, but now its fought a war it couldn’t win. The Shadow People killed thousands, if not millions of humans with the fall-out or collateral damage while trying to damage the cyberts.

The Shadow People thought collateral damage could be avoided if they weren’t the only ones fighting this war. One percent of the ten percent who lived in reality actually fought their jailers. The ninety percent who lived Inside were oblivious, living in fantasy worlds.

These Shadow People wore rags, and often reeked from not bathing enough, lived in the shadows and became one with those shadows. They were not like the others. The Shadow people knew the human race was in danger of extinction here and were determined to do something about it. But they had secrets–many secrets–these one- percenters who lived in reality.

Meanwhile on the Inside, SensaVision was unable to control the bad dreams of one single Bio. That same Bio had an unusual ability. He could see through illusion to reality. He was paying attention. Everyone who lived in reality did, too. They had to pay attention or die. Or, die trying.

I am anxious to start on another book, a supernatural suspense, action thriller that takes place in Central and South America. I’m going to need a linguist, a zoologist, whose specialty is in that part of the world, and current knowledge of drug production and transporting.