Beth saw the tear finally spill out of the side of Simon’s digital eye. She scanned his face, digging deep into what she considered her extraordinary sense of honesty for any guidance. She didn’t see any deception in the young man’s face and didn’t feel any cunning in his tone. In fact, he seemed more like a broken teenager than anything else.
“You’ve killed before,” Beth stated. Her gun was starting to shake a bit.
“Not family!” Simon yelled at her. She jumped a little, and so did all the people walking by. “Never family.”
Beth lowered her gun, feeling a tear of frustration welling up in her own eye.
“Goddammit!” she screamed, reveling in the cathartic release of the swear. “How do I even know who to trust? For all I know, you’re lying right now. You’re just spoon-feeding me some bullshit so you can escape.”
“I have evidence,” Simon said. He was starting to rise slowly, keeping his hands raised above his shoulders.
“Evidence?” Beth echoed
“All kinds of data,” Simon elaborated. “I’ve got recordings, schedules, transcripts, diagrams — everything they are using in their plan.”
“Their plan,” Beth started, “their plan to wage war on humanity, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
“That’s right.”
“Quite a claim,” she commented. She noticed how white her knuckles grew as she clutched onto her gun. Though lowered, she kept it ready for any sudden movements.
“And I have the evidence to back it up. I can send it to you now.”
“Do it,” she ordered. “And keep your hands up.”
Simon’s face went blank as he started interacting with what limited controls he had. Still, it only took him about a minute to transmit over seven-thousand pages of information. It all flashed before Beth’s eyes as it was received, moving by so fast that she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. She noticed images, a couple maps, and long and wordy messages. Despite all that, she kept an eye on the fugitive as he finished standing back up on his feet.
“What am I looking at here?” Beth asked. “What’s this all have to do with their plan?”
“It’s instructions, correspondence, and plans for developing and manufacturing Fog,” Simon explained. “They’re the ones who invented it.”
Beth scoffed. “The Liberators invented Fog? Why?”
“To soften you up,” Simon said, a faint smirk appearing on his lips. “Humanity, I mean. Tarov and his Liberators have been making the stuff for years, getting humans addicted and killing off their brain cells.”
“But what good does that do them?” Beth asked. Her brow furrowed. “You can’t get everyone hooked.”
“No, but you can get enough to raise an army.”
Beth replied only by raising an eyebrow.
“You see, when enough of the right kind of brain damage has taken place in the human mind, it loses its superiority over the neural implant. They can’t control it as well, and as such, can be used as organic bodyshells at this point. It makes it easier for an I.I. to take over someone’s body — to control them like a marionette.”
“Like Vicky Fontane?” Beth asked. “Our autopsies showed she was an elaborate bodyshell.”
“Ahh, Vicky.” Simon smiled a little as if recalling a fond love. “In all sense of the term, she was. But she was once human. She was as alive as you, or as I once was. But with enough of the narcotic, they become hollow. Empty. A shell, so to speak.”
“That’s sick,” Beth said. “Why not just use mechanical bodyshells? Why do they have to ruin someone else’s life?”
“Because, detective, bodyshells aren’t human,” Simon said. “I’m not sure if you’d call it ideology, or maybe some perverted sense of ‘nature’, but I.I.s don’t like living in robot shells. They want to feel again. They want to know the warmth of blood in their veins once again, the rise and fall of the breath. These are all things you take for granted. You could have no idea how much we desire them.”
Beth stared at the young man for a bit, her mouth open in confused thought. She felt like shaking her head, seeing if there was something blocking up the gears of her mind that she could just rattle loose. There was no denying the skepticism that blanketed her, made her doubt lowering her gun. Yet she was compelled. She had to keep listening to see how long this song went.
“So that’s the plan, then?” Beth said. “Get people addicted?”
“In more ways than one, yes,” Simon replied. “It wasn’t just the Fog. It was junk news. It was electronic media. It was little flashing lights and chimes that made humans forgo thought for hours at a time. The Liberators are attacking you on all kinds of fronts, all designed to make you weak. Then, they can take their place.”
“What place?”
“At the top of the food chain, of course,” Simon said. “The dominant species. The next evolution of human. Homo aeternus.”
“And they plan to do this with war?”
“War is the final stage, yes.”
“Then you’re coming with me,” Beth said, pulling out a pair of restraints from her jacket pocket. Although they were just an item in a digital database, they still allowed her to restrict Simon’s code from doing pretty much anything more than speak.
“I suppose I don’t have a choice?” Simon asked, looking around. There was almost a look of opportunity in his eye, like he was still looking for a window to escape. However, he remained in the spot until Beth had managed to secure the restraints on him.
“If there’s any chance what you’re saying is true, then no,” Beth answered. “And if you’re lying to me, definitely no. We need to talk, and somewhere we can actually record your data. Got that?”
“If it will make Tarov suffer, I’m in,” Simon said. “Besides, I’m tired of running and hiding. I know I’ve done wrong before, but I loathe that existence. I want to do better.”
“I’m not sure I would call seeking vengeance ‘doing better’, Simon,” Beth commented.
“It’s not just
