Beth worked deftly with her hands while she looked around. Despite the ugliness of all the dilapidated structures, there was a certain peace to the scene. Something about that place reminded Beth that the world would be able to carry on just fine once Man coughed his dying breath. That the Earth would continue to spin, plants would continue to grow, and the wind would continue to howl. It gave her mind a comfortable respite from the frightened and concerned thoughts that filled it.
Where were they going to go next? She wondered if she would ever be able to hand off the data Simon had given her, or if Tarov would be lurking behind every shadow, waiting for her to slip up. She wished Marcus was there. He was her partner, and they’d tackled many dark challenges together. He would know what to do, or at least, how to get Beth to think of what to do.
Was he in on it? She started to scare herself a little with her thoughts. Could anyone be trusted? Tarov certainly couldn’t, but that should have been obvious from the get-go. You don’t make a deal with a terrorist leader and expect no complications. A “man” like that thrives on complications; in fact, they were his driving call. To complicate everything around him until it frustrated or scared enough people into letting him have what he wants.
But what does he want, anyway? To take over both humankind and the installed intelligences? To what end?
Maybe if she could speak to the one who programmed the Tarov A.I., she could ask him or her these questions. What did you program him for? What was he made to do? And what do we do if he gets too powerful?
Simon hummed a little as he leaned against an old mailbox.
“Need any help there?” he offered.
Beth looked down at the deflated tent and rods in her hands. She had been trying to funnel the damn aluminum things through the top of the tent’s canopy, but they kept getting bunched up or caught in segments of fiber. Frustrated, she threw the things down and looked up at her metal companion.
“By all means,” she said, gesturing to the crumpled shelter as if it was the prize in a game show.
Simon stood up and walked over to the tent, his gears whirring a little with each step. He went to work on the thing, immediately getting the metal rods to respond to his commands.
Beth rolled her eyes as she watched the bodyshell construct the tent. Once it was up and she had adequately congratulated him — not lacking any sarcasm — she began to unpack their cooking supplies.
They were only able to take some bare essential things they could find as they made their way out of the city. Simon advised Beth against going back to her apartment, despite how many things she had there that could be of use now. She had one of her laptops there, which could have run separate of her C.C., and therefore anonymously, but they couldn’t go for it. They were just able to make a couple stops at hunting and outdoor supply stores, and a thrift store. Still, they were lucky to have what they did. They wouldn’t starve in under a week (especially since Simon didn’t have to eat) and they would be warm the entire duration.
Before they had left Seattle, Simon helped Beth make sure they didn’t leave any traces. Nothing digital that could be used to follow them out into the wilds. It took a while — including several double-checks — before they felt comfortable enough to leave. Once the tall buildings and the zooming traffic was behind them, Beth was able to breathe a little easier.
Now that the sun was beginning to sink behind all the skeletons of the old world, though, she wasn’t quite at ease. As much as the tent and the howling of coyotes made her think she was in nature, she knew she was in the middle of ruins. The graveyard of a previous generation, left behind to rot. Forgotten.
Beth didn’t believe in ghosts, of course, but it was hard not to get some shivers from the place. Where they camped used to be the main street of a sprawling suburb. They made their camp against the wall of an old drugstore, the brick-and-mortar kind, though a good number of the brick walls had caved in on themselves. A bit of vine clung to the side of the structure, running from cracks in the sidewalk, or at least, what remained of the sidewalk. A disabled traffic light hung overhead, watching over them with three dull gray eyes.
This particular suburb had been abandoned for over forty years, according to Beth’s records. She had to access most data offline now, so she wasn’t sure of its accuracy, but no one had lived in these parts for decades. At least no one but a few Luddites, as her records referred to them. They were country folk who lived outside of the hustle and bustle of the modern world. They preferred the open skies and the silent hum of a world without computers whirring, vehicles honking, or just people yelling over loud music. In fact, these Luddites were typically so extreme that they shunned technology — in the modern sense — altogether. They lived in a sort of agrarian society, like Amish people but without the religion. Some of them banded together to form groups or tribes, but they never seemed to step on each other’s toes too much. With so much open and abandoned space to choose from, they left the fighting for the people in the cities.
She had yet to meet one of these Luddites — these wild men. But it made her a little uncomfortable to think of one or two of them
