Post-Human Trilogy

24

“Even if you’re able to produce forgeries of the devices, the procedure would be irreversible!” Dr. Lindholm protested as Aldous desperately worked to connect his mind’s eye to the antiquated computer equipment in the optometrist’s office.

“I can reverse it,” Aldous replied, barely paying attention to the protests of his hostage as he worked feverishly to connect to the Internet so he could begin his search for the information files he needed.

For a few moments, Lindholm was dumbfounded. He rebooted his line of argument. “Even if that were the case, do you realize how long the recovery time would be for such a procedure?”

“Probably about twenty minutes once I reactivate my nanobots,” Aldous replied dryly as he continued working.

“Nanobots?” Lindholm reacted, his back suddenly straightening as though he’d been kicked.

The two monitors atop the desk suddenly flashed on, mirroring Aldous’s mind’s eye. One monitor displayed the ghastly visage of Colonel Paine as he held Samantha above him with one hand, his fingers continuing to slowly burrow into her collarbone. Lindholm gasped when he saw the scene, his hands suddenly clasping on his temples as he heard Samantha’s blood curdling screams. “Ach mein Gott.”

“That’s my wife,” Aldous said. He turned to Lindholm. “She’s being tortured by that Purist government super soldier, and if I can’t rescue her soon, he will kill her.”

Lindholm nodded, his breath caught in his mouth as he tried to speak. “And you’re a…post-human.”

“That’s right.”

“There were rumors. I couldn’t believe them.”

“We’re real—or at least we were. For all I know, there may be only a handful of us left,” Aldous replied. He turned back to the other screen, which displayed the information from Aldous’s Web search.

“How are you controlling the computer?” Lindholm asked.

“With my mind—a device we call the mind’s eye. I’ll teach you more about it once we’ve dealt with more pressing matters.”

Lindholm’s eyes widened as he studied Aldous’s side profile. “You—you’re related to him. You’re related to Aldous Gibson, aren’t you? Are you his son?”

Aldous shook his head as he continued to search through the Web with his mind, his wife’s cries for help continuing concomitantly. “Not his son,” he replied. “I am Aldous Gibson, Herr Doktor.”

“Dear lord. Dear lord, you’ve really done it. You’ve achieved immortality, as you always claimed you would.”

A sudden shriek from Samantha, far worse than any of her previous wails, snapped Aldous’s attention away from his research.

Paine threw Samantha down with a frustrated grunt; she remained attached to the board on which she’d been tortured, and it crashed, along with her, on its side. She’d been through more physical pain than any human could endure and survive, her post-humanity now working against her, cruelly repairing the damage as though she were Prometheus, ready for the eagle to peck out her ever-regenerating liver once again.

“For the love of Christ, Samantha,” Aldous said, exasperated and near tears, “I told you to just tell him. It will buy time.”

“She can hear you?” Lindholm asked. His question was ignored.

“Never!” Samantha suddenly belted at the top of her lungs, her eyes wild with animalistic hatred as she bore her teeth and screamed at the cyborg monstrosity before her. “Never! NEVER!”

Paine smiled. “You see? Zealot.” His smile suddenly melted, replaced by a frightening determination as he strode to her and sank his claws back into her chest. She shrilled.

“Oh Christ!” Aldous cursed, his eyes unblinking. As he watched the horrific spectacle through his wife’s eyes, Sanha’s unconscious body suddenly came into view. “Sanha,” he whispered to himself before switching out of Samantha’s mind’s eye and establishing a connection to Sanha, but the screen was blank. “Sanha! Wake up! Sanha! Wake up!”

A strip of light appeared briefly and vanished before it reappeared and Sanha blinked awake.

“Sanha! It’s me, Aldous! You have to stop him! You have to stop him!”

“I-I can’t,” Sanha whispered in return. “We’re no match for him.”

Paine suddenly stopped, his head cocking as the extraordinarily sensitive microphone in his aural implant picked up Sanha’s words. He craned his neck, his golden irises falling on Sanha. “You say something, sport?”

“Oh no,” Sanha whispered.

Paine dropped Samantha once again, his eyes never leaving Sanha. “You got a rider in there?”

“No. Please!”

Paine strode to Sanha and reached down with his hellish talons, yanking Sanha up and thrusting his back against the wall. Paine’s face was now only inches from Sanha’s as he looked closely into his eyes, searching for signs that Sanha was using his mind’s eye. “Who are you talking to?”

“Tell him, Sanha,” Aldous said.

Sanha remained silent.

Paine suddenly grinned—a sadistic victory pulling his lips taut, curling them back to reveal yellow teeth. “I bet I know who it is. It’s the devil himself in there, ain’t it? Hello there, Professor Gibson.”

“Tell him, Sanha,” Aldous repeated.

“It… it is Aldous Gibson,” Sanha blubbered, terrified. “You’re right.”

Paine nodded before dropping Sanha to the ground. He put his hand under Sanha’s chin as though he were a father filming Christmas morning, setting his camera on a tripod. “Don’t take your eyes off this, sport. I don’t want the professor to miss a second.”

“Oh no,” Aldous whispered. “Sanha!” he shouted. “Tell him where the A.I. is!”

“But I don’t know where it is—”

“The Planck! The Planck! We sent it through the Planck! Tell him!” Aldous shouted back frantically.

Paine had already scooped Samantha up with one arm, holding the back of the board and displaying Aldous’s wife like Christ on the cross as the hand on his other arm began to spin like a drill. “You like to watch, professor?” Paine shouted over the sound of the drill.

“The Planck! They sent it through the Planck!” Sanha screeched.

Paine’s face suddenly went white, and he stopped the spinning of his hand, dropping Samantha a second afterward.

She thudded onto the concrete, the board falling on its side once again. Aldous could see her clearly through Sanha’s point of view.

“What did you say?” Paine asked Sanha, his voice suddenly icy.

“The Planck,” Sanha repeated, his chest heaving as his heart raced. “They sent the A.I. threw the Planck. That’s why we couldn’t find it before. They sent it through.”

“Planck?” Paine said, his expression filled with a rare display of fear. “As in Planck energy?”

Sanha nodded, surprised that the brutish Paine knew what Planck energy was.

“As in, you unimaginably stupid bastards have sent an artificial intelligence into another universe?”

Sanha didn’t respond. He was stunned that Paine was versed enough in the technology to immediately guess its use.

Aldous was stunned too. Paine, besides being extraordinarily cruel and remorseless, also defied Aldous’s expectations for a Luddite. Only a small handful of people worldwide even knew what Planck energy was, let alone its possible implications.

Paine shook his head as he stared downward at his boots, thinking through this latest development. He paced for a moment as he continued to mull over his options. After his short internal deliberation, he nodded and turned back to Sanha. “Can you operate the Planck? Can I send a team in after the A.I.?”