Wentworth pulled out his Datapad, and tossed it over to the prone form. Raxx caught it, holding it apprehensively.
“How does this thing work?” asked Wentworth.
“…I’d say that it does your thinking for you. What am I supposed to say?”
“At its base level, it’s nothing but electronics. The same stuff you were using to put together those radios. It’s a machine, just really, really small — electrons and nuclei bouncing off one another, nothing but mathematics, ones and zeroes, clicking like clockwork. It’s a completely different sort of machine, but the principles are the same, the math is the same — it’s designed to think for you, but your truck is designed to drive for you. You decide how much thinking it does. You could figure it out just like anything else.
“At their core, there’s no fundamental difference between trucks and computers.”
Raxx stared at the screen, watching the cursor blink. “You just might be on to something there.” He handed it back and lay down again. “You know, I was taught that all of the old tech was evil… but that was just my tribe. Other are okay with machines, but everybody says that those things are what started the war. I gotta think about it first.” He pulled out a cigarillo and lit it, staring up at the ceiling. “You know, it’s funny that the book got you thinking about mechanics, but me it got thinking about ethics. See, here’s the thing — let’s say you want to be moral. Well, where do you start? The first thing you gotta do is gain knowledge. What’s the difference between a good act and an evil act? It’s the situation. Something’s that’s right to do in one situation would be wrong in the other, and vice versa. Even if you’re just talking about giving someone a kiss, well, it doesn’t take much imagination to think of situations where that’d be rude, or even evil. And it gets more complex from there — when and how should you punish? When and how should you be kind? Both can hurt people, in different ways. It’s all about knowledge — learning about people, families and relationships, and even tech — it all goes hand in hand.
“You know, in some ways it was a big relief for me. I already knew everything that was wrong with my family, but I didn’t believe it. Man, there was some seriously unhealthy stuff going on there. But I’d always learned that truth came from the majority — so if everybody else thought what was happening was okay, who was I to speak different? But, see, that book showed me what the difference was — how I could know that I was right—” he sat up suddenly, resting on an elbow. “Do you know what it is? Do you know how we can tell that we aren’t the crazy ones? It’s because we listen to different ideas. We’re not locked up to the first idea that gets in our heads. Logic is just math, isn’t it? And math’s the same for everyone.” He leaned back again. “How about you show me how that machine of yours works when we get back to Sauga? It’s probably about time I learned.”
Wentworth nodded. The fire had burnt down to embers. “Do you know what else is funny? In a way, that book did the same thing for both of us.”
“How so?”
“It got us to realize the difference between blindly accepting facts, and critically thinking about them. You with your ethics, me with machines… but even then, you and I, we’ve always been doing that, haven’t we? Sure, we’ve both been affected by our environments, but both of us have always sought after free thought… and there’s nobility in that. Anybody half-intelligent can be trained to think, but some people have it innate. The born free- thinkers.”
“Too damn few of us, man.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Chapter 33
They awoke in darkness. A stronger wind current had started up in the subway network, howling with a dry moan. The fire had guttered out into black ash.
They crawled back up to the surface to eat breakfast, as hungry for the light as they were for the meal. It was midmorning and overcast. The rain had stopped but there were puddles everywhere. After hot coffee and a couple strips of jerky they continued exploring. The subway tunnels made an oval through the city, and they were determined to see it all the way through.
Rubble and cars still littered the ground but they’d moved to a part of the city with fewer skyscrapers. It was finally possible to travel across the surface, but still everything they found was broken and rotted.
Around noon they arrived at a crossroads filled with small shops and walk-ups. It was there they found the bookstore, on one of the corners. Feeling a burst of their initial excitement, they began exploring. The interior was heavily stylized and open-concept. Where the wallpaper wasn’t peeling they could make out ancient quotes written in cursive script. The lower level had been damaged by flash floods from the vicious fall storms, the waters had raced through the aisles overturning shelves and destroying their contents before seeping down to the lower levels of the city. So they climbed to the second storey, hoping to find something that had survived there. The first book they tried to pull off broke, its spine peeling away where they pulled on it. With the second they were gentler and managed to pull it off intact, but it would not open. Dry mildew had grown through its pages, binding them together and ruining them. All the others were equally worthless. Some had turned into brittle dust, others had undergone slow chemical decay, and still others had simply rotted into black mould. None of them were readable, and the waxy magazines which had survived on the lower level were as useless as the ones Wentworth had found in the subway kiosk the day before.
He walked over to one of the circular windows looking out onto the street. He unslung his rifle and sat in its frame, lighting a cigarette and drinking from his canteen. Looking out over the city he spoke.
“It’s all useless. There’s nothing for us here.”
Raxx wandered over and crossed his arms, remaining silent.
“If we were scavenging we might find some of the old tech worth salvaging… but what’s the point in that? There’re no answers here.”
“You want to go back?”
“Guess we might as well.”
They started their journey back to the vehicles, still holding out hope that something would show up in their path, but it was all in vain. They passed through the tunnels, squeezing around subway cars littered with skeletons, and when they climbed up to the surface it was only to stare at a city of bones.
Finally they reached the last station. It was a block south of where they’d first entered, but closer to their vehicles. They walked up the stairs. A faded set of pylons had rolled over on the road. Ahead of them one of the paving blocks was missing, some sort of work trench opened up in its place. Cement barricaded bordered on either side. Next to them was another glass building, its windows washed clean by the recent showers. As they reached the top Wentworth turned to look at his reflection. The eerie mystery of this place that he’d felt upon first arriving was gone. There was nothing here; this city was a dead waste…
A flinch. His nerves caught on fire.
He noticed every pebble, every shard of glass, green and brown. Raxx’s weapon was still in his hand. A pile of old cigarettes had gathered in the trench’s corner. As they hit the ground he heard the sound of shattering glass as one of the reflective windows came down in a tinkling shower, followed by the whiz of a bullet’s sonic boom.
Time went back to normal, and for three ragged breaths they lay there, looking at each other.
“Shit,” said Wentworth, breathing heavily. “It’s them.”
Raxx looked at him, confusion written across his features.
“Alright, listen; they’re not after you, just me. You barely know me, we just worked together a bit. Now I’m going to—“
“Fuck you, what’s the plan?”
“What? Listen, Raxx, these guys aren’t a bunch of jack-offs like the Hellhounds. There’s going to be at least eight of them, trained like I am. They—“
“I said
Wentworth searched his partner’s eyes. The man was unwavering. “Alright,” he said.
