“It’ll be okay,” Simon said. “We can beat them together.”
Beth looked up at the bodyshell. There were no features capable of an expression, just a bunch of lights and servos, but she liked to imagine a warm look of concern.
I should be grateful, she realized, the anger receding from her face. She wiped a bit of snot from her cheek. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be the one bleeding on the stairs. There’s no telling how many minutes — how many seconds — I was away from death.
Then her brow furrowed and a bit of suspicion crept into her eyes.
“How did you get out of your restraints?” she asked, suddenly remembering the digital prison she had left Simon in. “How did you find a bodyshell? How did you find me?”
Simon laughed. It sounded strange from the speakers, like Darth Vader had remembered a funny joke.
“As you know, I was pretty high up in the Liberator echelon,” he said. “There are a lot of things the militia can do that you can’t even imagine. And even though I’ve gone rogue, I still have access to a lot of those resources. Namely, surveillance and bodyshell tech. I’m sure they’ll catch on soon enough and block me out of the system, if they haven’t already, but I’ve already reprogrammed some things to work independently of their network.”
“Resourceful,” Beth commented.
“I can’t claim the credit alone,” Simon replied. “A lot of what I can do — what we can do— is due to a lot of work from a variety of people. It took years and dozens of talented minds to develop the weapons I.I.s now have at their disposal.”
“Like blowing up heads?” Beth asked, looking down at the carcass.
“I overloaded his implant,” the I.I. explained. “I was able to get in there and shut it down from the inside. Unfortunately, that involved a tiny explosion in the implants key components.”
“Can you do this to anyone?” Beth asked, a tinge of fear in her tone.
“No — at least — not yet,” Simon answered. “They’ve been working on it, but that’s one reason we needed the Fog. To make access easier. They’re a long way off, but nothing’s impossible. You’d be amazed at the strides we’ve accomplished since the days of Maynard Batiste.”
“Maynard Batiste?” Beth echoed. The name was familiar, but she couldn’t figure out from where she’d heard it.
“He was the first I.I. to live inside a human’s cerebral computer,” Simon explained. “He’s also the one who taught us how to ‘jump’. He was the world’s first puppetmaster.”
Beth shuddered a little as she contemplated Simon’s words. Even though it had just been used to save her life, the idea that any I.I—especially those under Tarov’s charge— could just jump into someone’s implant and shut down their brain was terrifying. Even if they were ages away from developing it to be strong enough against all humans, the possibility made her skin crawl.
Simon seemed to be able to hear her thoughts.
“I know it’s scary,” he said, “but we can beat them before it ever gets that bad.”
“We should go to the police,” Beth suggested. Then her partner came to her mind and concern grew within her. “In fact, where is Marcus? He was the one I was supposed to meet here.”
“I know,” Simon said. “I diverted him. I wanted to keep as many people out of harm’s way as possible. Besides — he might be followed.”
“Followed? By one of Tarov’s men?”
“Yes — but likely within the department,” Simon replied.
Beth’s eyes grew wide and her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Within the department?”
“That’s right, Beth,” the bodyshell said. “Tarov has people in the police. A lot of people, in fact. Some of them are I.I.s in organic bodyshells, and others are just people who’ve been blackmailed or threatened into compliance. Whatever the police know, Tarov knows. If we go to them, he’ll be able to reach us before anyone knows about his secret.”
“But if they see the data, they’ll know Tarov was lying to them.”
“It won’t matter,” Simon continued. “He has officers so loyal in the police that they’d delete the data without so much as a peek. They have faith in Tarov as a leader, and if he says something is a lie, they will believe him.”
Everything just keeps getting better, Beth mused bitterly. They can jump into people’s minds, they control the police, and worse of all, they want me dead. And the only one who can seem to help me is a murder suspect and former terrorist.
“Then what do we do?” Beth asked. Her tone was defeated, and Simon could tell. He offered a hand on her shoulder again, and this time, she didn’t fend it off.
“We have to be smarter than the Liberators,” Simon replied.
“And how do we do that?”
“Well, first, we need a plan,” Simon said. “The odds are stacked up against us, so we need to take our next steps carefully. Take time and do some research; reach out and try to find allies.”
“But we’re being hunted,” Beth replied. “The way you’ve talked about it, it sounds like Tarov will send countless assassins after us until he knows his secret is safe.”
“That’s right,” Simon started, “but only if he can track us.”
“And how do we avoid that?”
“By getting off the grid,” Simon answered. “We have to go where civilization can’t find us. Someplace the police — strangers — even I.I. terrorists won’t go.”
Beth’s eyes seemed to gleam for a moment as she thought over their predicament.
“I think I know of a place,” she said.
“Then let’s go,” Simon replied. “The next killer is probably already on his way.”
Off the Grid
Dust blew over the buildings to the north. Beth’s eyelids fluttered as the wind brought the particles to them, but she continued to scan the horizon. It was broken and craggy, like some national park in the Southwest, but it wasn’t a natural formation. The skyline was
