Filaria (15 page)

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Authors: Brent Hayward

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BOOK: Filaria
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On the bench he shifted; his cock had started to harden. For the first time since he had been abducted, he wished his hands were free.

Lost in thoughts of abandon, it was some time before he realized that the man across from him had not only awoken but had lifted his head and was addressing him quietly from across the floor:

“Hey, hey? Got any water?”

Tran so blinked. The features and the accent were very different than his own. People came from all over the world to visit Hoffmann City, to patronize its sex clubs and enjoy the renowned decadence; Tran so was used to foreigners. This face was long, with a full beard. The man’s eyes were round and his hair blond. He was dressed in a tan uniform.

“Have you got any water?” the man repeated. “My head’s splitting. I’ve been here a day and a half and I’ve drunk nothing. They can’t keep us here like this, without water, and not tell us anything. There are conventions to keeping prisoners.”

“I am ill from drinking water.”

“They
poisoned
you?”

“No, no, they have not poisoned me. It was from a lake. From an unclean lake. This was before they took me.”

“You resemble someone who lives near the water supply, near the reservoirs. I’ve been there. I’ve seen others like you.”

Cries from next door faded to a low sob.

These round eyes staring at Tran so seemed to contain little intelligence. “Others like me?” Tran so asked.

“Yeah. I visited the reservoirs once, as a kid. I hear the water in that place was much higher back then, that it’s all drained out. My old man took me and some other kids down the shaft, cause he had some business there with one of the supervisors. My old man, see, was in the diplomatic corps. Back when they was still trying to be diplomatic. He dealt with
machines
. And I recall that people who lived there, on that reservoir level, looked just like you. With straight black hair, and slitty little eyes.”

Yes, Tran so Phengh had met men like this before. Many times. They came to Hoffmann City in hordes, loud and drunk, often hurting the citizens they employed. He had chased several on occasion, had fought one or two. At work, Minnie sue had once been punched in the face by an inebriated client.

Usually, he tried to avoid such men. Not so easily done in this situation. He vowed to be patient, a quality he generally strived for. He coughed, and said politely, “The reservoir level?”

“That’s what we call where you’re from. And what’s the name of the city there? Hoffton?”

“Hoffmann.”

“That’s it, Hoffmann City. Boy, that’s a stinky place, eh? Too big for me. I’m just a country boy. But we had some adventures there that time, lemme tell ya. Me and my friends drank beer for the first time and my old man took us past a place where there were red lights in open windows and women too, naked in the windows. Touching each other. Touching each other’s titties!”

Tran so waited. He was really not fond of the way people talked about his hometown and its population. He did not like this man. He hoped that the dark gods would come to silence the stranger, perhaps take him away.

“You ever been there? To that place?”

“Of course I have. I live in Hoffmann City.”

“No, I mean to where them girls are. To that place where you can fuck them or give them a spanking or tie them up.”

“There are many such places where I live. My wife served in one. She did her apprenticeship with Mme Hector.”

“Your
wife
?” The man blew breath out through pursed lips. His eyes glittered. He clearly did not know what to say.

“As a rule,” Tran so said, “I do not frequent those establishments. I did so as a young man, but they are primarily for travellers and tourists.”

If the bearded man detected this comment to be a slight he showed no sign. “You sure talk funny,” was all he said, after a moment. “You water people. Lots of big words.” He licked his dry lips and leaned his head back against the wall. “Name’s Ensign Conway. What’s yours?”

“Tran so Phengh.”

“Tran . . . Can’t shake yer hand, obviously, but it’s an honour to meet you. You know, me and you are gonna bust outta here. You know that? We’re gonna
escape
.” He had lowered his voice, and moved his body forward on the bench. “I’m sure they’re looking for me, anyhow. I’m in the army, you see, based up in Descartes, on the plantation level. Thirty First airbourne division. The most elite division of the entire fucking army. You heard of them?”

“No.”

“Ever been up there? To the plantation level?”

Tran so shook his head. This talk was incautious and unending and Tran so was feeling ill again.

“It’s the only
real
level, man. Ten times the height of any other one. Almost the top of the world! Only a ring of rich people’s houses up in the clouds after that and then the suns themselves, over our heads, shining down. It’s where food is grown, you know.” Ensign Conway paused, as if he had somehow confused himself. Then he asked, “How did they get you?”

“The dark gods?”

“Gods.” Chuckling dryly, Ensign Conway leaned back again, so that the red words formed an arc over his head, framing him. “Yes, I suppose that’s what I mean.
The dark gods
. I like that. Sounds real ominous. I’d forgotten the weird customs where you come from. Machines are gods, right?”

“We are not so simple as that. We understand the distinction between what you call a machine and a — ”

“Okay, okay. Machines with
intelligence
. The ones that used to talk to the network.”

“I don’t know that term.”

“The network was like a brain. It used to call all the shots, tell all the machines what to do. Supervisors and stuff. But I remember Hoffmann City
crawling
with those kinds of devices. With intelligence. You know, Tran, if you let them believe that they’re in charge, well, it might be part of your problem down there. I guess machines are strong, and smart, and they can do a lot of shit we can’t.” He glanced at the doorway. Two of the giants had just walked past. “Listen, the network, or something acting like it,” he continued, voice softer at last, “is actually building more of those monculii, what you call dark gods, again. Those there, for instance.” He motioned with his chin to the now empty hallway. Distant voices could yet be heard. “After hundreds of fucking years they’re being built again. No one knows why. There’s talk of a breach but no one has found the hole yet. Not at least by the time I was taken. We were actually looking for it. And this new variety that’s being made is all loose cannons. Unpredictable. Like they’re being made wrong somehow, like the plans have been lost. I don’t think the engineer wanted it this way.”

Tran so Phengh tried to recall what the disembodied voice had told him, in the underwater lair. Hadn’t it asked him when he’d first washed up on the platform inside the lake god’s house if he was the engineer?

“And I say you can’t take an Ensign prisoner. Not even your damn machines!” Ensign Conway shuddered as he made this outburst. “Some of these giants are totally fucking crazy. Maybe not here, but some of them are,
out there
.”

“How do you know?” Tran so was being polite; he wanted silence, time to think.

“Because people have been
butchered
. That’s how I know. Butchered by your dark gods. Despicable attacks. No machine is ever supposed to do
that
. It ain’t the way the world was designed. People kill people. Not machines. Look at us. Look at me and you! I mean, these guys out there haven’t showed any signs of being too crazy, not yet, but we’re being held prisoner! Without water. They’ve tied us to fucking benches! And listen to that poor guy next door. What do you think they’re doing to
him
?”

Tran so Phengh was about to ask Ensign Conway to keep his voice down but the sudden burst of anger had ended and the other man thankfully resumed speaking in more reasonable tones:

“I overheard some of them talking after I was captured, about
errant
individuals. That was the word they used. Errant. Of their own kind. What we do know is that these machines are rounding up people and asking them questions. Asking them if they work here or if they’re just visiting. Which makes no fucking sense. And now they’re also searching for some of their own, renegades that have gone nuts and are out there killing people. I
saw
some of the bodies, man. I know it’s true.”

“You yourself said earlier: people kill each other. Maybe these gods are more like people than other gods. Maybe we are the same.”

“Whose friggin side are you on, man? Ain’t you been listening to me? Besides, I don’t believe in gods. In
no
kind of god. Certainly not in machines as god. It’s backward thinking. We tell
them
what to do.”

“You and I have differing opinions. On, I would imagine, most topics.”

Ensign Conway grunted. Then, after a long pause, perhaps because silence was the last thing he cherished, he said, “You were telling me how you were taken. It might be important.”

“Was I?” Tran so Phengh had not been telling the story of his capture, but nonetheless he complied. “They took me prisoner because I had challenged the god of Lake Seven. I had swum down to where it lives, to confront it about my wife’s illness and the death of my son. I wanted love to return to me. I was tired of living an empty life. I was ambushed there.”

“Your son’s dead? And your
wife’s sick
? Sorry to hear that, friend . . . Personally, I don’t have time for a wife. Don’t want to be tied down.” Ensign Conway lifted his arms, rattling his chains again, but the irony of his words and predicament were apparently lost on him. “They sure have brought you a long way. A long, long way. They’ve brought all of us from far away, I guess, if you think about it. From all the corners of the world. But we’re gonna find out what they’re up to. You’ll see. We’re gonna stop them.”

Tran so said nothing.

“My story,” the Ensign said, closing his eyes, “is that I was with the Thirty First, which was my division. We was looking for the breach, like I already said. We found a body instead. An old man who had been living by himself in the middle of nowhere had been tortured and killed. And we’d seen wanton destruction of the landscape from the air. But I became separated from the boys, ambushed, and shot at by your
dark gods
. Some kind of dart. Shot me in the back. When I woke up, I was bound hand and foot and being carried on a travois — ”

What little light coming through the doorway was suddenly eclipsed: one of the giants stood there, though how much it had heard was unclear. Its eyes glowed a reddish hue. It had to stoop to step forward into the room and had to remain stooped once inside.

“You will be so kind as to accompany me,” the dark god whispered to Tran so, its voice deep. When it spoke, lights played about the lower half of its smooth face, where a mouth would be in a man. The words almost shimmered in the air, tingling caresses on Tran so’s skin. The god knelt before him, removing the shackles from Tran so’s legs. Tran so looked down upon its broad back. He smelled a charge in the air, the smell of ions burning, a familiar smell from home. This was the individual that had been kind to him initially. He was certain.

“Where are you taking him?” Ensign Conway demanded from his bench across the room. “You have to give us water! There are conventions to keeping prisoners!”

The god lifted Tran so easily in its arms. As they left the room, the Ensign shouted after them, “You shot me in the back, you coward. You shot me in the fuckin back!”

In the hall outside, the dark god was able to straighten. Closed doors, either side; light fixtures in the ceiling; dingy, off-white walls. Mundane details made Tran so feel better about the condition of his beleaguered eyes.

The god began to walk.

“You will be fed momentarily,” it said. “Given water, asked a few simple questions. We are sorry for the confinement, if you prove to be innocent of further charges.”

“More charges? What charges?”

“We cannot afford the luxury of asking questions prior to taking you people into custody. If you are registered to be here, well, our apologies. We, after all, are here to serve and protect. But as I said, we do not have the luxury of presuming innocence. At least, not until we get the situation under control.”

“What situation is that?”

“The situation. The situation at hand.”

“I too would like to ask questions.”

They moved swiftly now, huge strides taking them past multitudes of doors set in the walls on either side. “You may ask.” If the dark god was surprised at Tran so’s insolence, it gave no indication.

“Why is my wife dying?”

They turned a corner. This new hall was also brightly lit, and relatively clean, though somewhat wider than the first had been. Some of the doors here had windows in them. Most did not. Tran so could see no detail within any room as they all fell rapidly behind.

“You are mortal,” the god said simply, after apparently considering the question. “You are born to die.”

“I can’t believe that. You live longer, but you expire also.”

The noise the god made might have been a chuckle. “You did not ask why I am dying,” it said. “Or why we are
all
dying. You asked only about your wife. Then you became defensive. As for me dying, well, technically, I am not. Though it’s true I shall one day cease to exist, as far as you are concerned. Yes, parts of me are wearing out, as we speak. Becoming obsolete. Entropy is always nearby. But I am a new construct. This day is only my third. If I am not maimed, or caused by other means to cease functioning, I will continue to do what I am designed to do for many, many of your lifetimes. Hundreds of them.”

“What
are
you designed to do?”

“This.”

“You still haven’t answered my first question.”

Shrugging again, the dark god replied: “Your wife, little man, is dying because death and a brief lifespan are symptomatic of your species. You are smart, you people, and creative. You can change any world, anywhere, in any way you wish. We all owe our lives, if you will — our existence — to you and your race. Yet I understand you get ill, you get hurt, you get old. You die. Nothing can stop that. No science, no discovery or invention. Your lives flicker past, images hardly seen long enough for me to grasp. I will not be able to keep track of you. I am sorry for that, and I try to prepare myself for it. I will not remember you soon.”

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