Machine God: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (5 page)

The 2D visualization of Konforma clapped again.

“Rights can be unlocked by doing services for the greater good of our society. Services include missions from the committee, personal requests of high-ranked citizens and general proper behavior. From now on, you gain access to your citizen ID which you can check on your Permission Protocol.”

“This sounds terribly complicated. Can I just be a decent human being instead?”

Konforma's childish enthusiasm waned.

“Mockery is a waste of oxygen and will lead to a decrease of your rights.”

“I was just making a comment.”

Konforma didn’t care.

“We’re living in challenging times, and in order to ensure harmony and survival of our society, each citizen has to sacrifice their personal freedom—“

“—for the greater good,” I said.

For some reason, I always knew her next words. 

Probably because she talked like an automaton most of the time.

“Exactly. Please check the digital instructional manual on the duties of your Bulwark citizenship. It’s located in the info bar next to your profile avatar. So far, we’ve penned a total of 10,423 pages for your reading duty.”

“The fun just never stops.”

Konforma squeezed her eyes.

“This is not about fun, this is about your responsibility as—“

“—a citizen. I get it, I was just making a joke, which I guess I don’t have a permission for.”

“You’re right about that.”

A beep rang from the wall-screen. Konforma paused and lifted her mouth wrinkles. Her mood changed at the blink of an eye.

“By the way, your class has been determined by the committee. From now on, you’ll serve our beloved society as a…”  

16

“Soldier,” she said.

“But keep in mind—the committee has added remarks to your profile.”

Konforma showed me the comments of the so-called committee, whoever they were.

“You can be downgraded to the digger status in case you abuse your role as a soldier and/or fail to comply.”

So no more joking for me, which was probably the biggest challenge so far. Still, for the time being, I promised to change. At least they gave me a chance to redeem myself, which would buy me enough time to figure out this society and the world around it. Everyday a little progress, that was the game from now on. For once, I strapped away all sarcasm.

“Thanks for giving me the chance to serve your community.”

“Thank us by being useful.”

Of course she had to say it. But the lecture still didn’t stop. Konforma always had something to say.

“Please check your communication device around your wrist. It’s connected to the Bulwark network.”

“You mean my handcuffs?”

She pursed her lips. Looked almost as if she sulked.

“They're not handcuffs, they are communication cuffs, or commcuffs for short. With them, you can access your permissions, societal status, duties, the cluster map, the primer and many other options. Its secondary function is to connect with fellow citizen and superiors. Consider it your guide, wrapped stylishly around your wrist.”

This girl had a lot to learn about style. The so-called commcuff looked like a rusty gear from a tank wreckage. 

“Guess I won’t be winning any fashion awards anytime soon.”

An ear-biting noise cheeped.

“Warning: your permission to sleep for six hours has been reduced to five hours per day.”

“Oh come on, that wasn’t even offensive.”

“You’ll learn. You’ll have to.”

Konforma waved me goodbye over the wall-screen.

“Be productive, citizen. Serve the Bulwark, and the Bulwark will watch over you. And please, watch your mouth. Punishment is only a syllable away.”

And with that, she vanished from the wall-screen and turned into my loathed steel block again. I decided to lie down on my bunk bed since I didn’t have to fear a shock therapy anymore. Five hours of sleeping time left and still no food for me. As if the abductors could read my mind, a slid opened on the ground next to the door. A little metallic box awaited me.

Could it be?

Nah, it couldn’t.

Still, I wanted, no, I needed to check. I got up from my bed, crawled toward the tray and picked up the iron cover. The smell of cooked meat and steamed vegetables bedazzled my nostrils. Next to it stood an one liter bottle of lukewarm water. Not heaven, but the first step toward ascension. I gulped down half the bottle’s content before I wreaked havoc on the meat which turned out to be artificial. Similar taste, not quite the flavor as the real thing. Didn’t matter. My body was starving and I enjoyed every juicy bite. In a matter of two minutes, my stomach was filled and felt like a sack full of ironed bricks. I waddled toward the bed and lay down. Closed my eyes and went offline. Believe it or not, but I actually was excited about the next day. 

I wondered what novelty it would bring.

Just like before, the surprises kept coming.

17

When I woke up again, the iron lady stood in my cell, the datapad stuck in her long fingers, the guards watching me with rifles ready.

“You’re a new citizen of our glorious Bulwark. This must be the best day of your life.”

“I’ve seen better.”

“Are you sure?”

No. The past still remained that murky place which blackened the more I tried to think about it. 

“Your assessment result was more than adequate, it was good.”

The iron lady and her compliment, an oxymoron.

“Keep them coming,” I said.

“Better not. Egomaniacs rarely contribute.”

She wiped some screens on her datapad. 

“For the next weeks, you will receive the best combat training this world has ever seen. You will dive deeply into tactics, firearms and urban warfare. Follow our orders, and you will receive permissions to live the best possible life.”

Tempting, but the excitement stayed shallow.

“What exactly am I training for?”

“Silence. You don’t have the permission to ask me unless I tell you so.”

“Got it.”

She walked around my tiny cell without breaking eye contact.

“Where did you learn how to shoot a gun?”

“Don’t know.”

“Have you been part of a paramilitary group?”

“Probably not.”

“Can you tell me anything new about your past?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

She narrowed her eyes and threw me a glance that could eat through steel. The iron lady must have thought I was messing with her.

I was a mystery to myself.

“Does it matter? I seem to be a good shooter. I believe I can become a valuable member of your society.”

“Time will show us the truth—eventually. But for now, save your energies and prepare for tomorrow. Konforma has a myriad of training sessions prepared for you. The goal is to operate with striking efficiency.”

And with that, she marched out of my cell. Before the prison door closed down, I asked her. 

“What’s your name?”

“Did you remember what I said about your lack of permissions?”

“I was just wondering.”

The iron lady’s rigid face eased up by a nano-millimeter. 

“Orden. Just call me Chief Orden.”

“Nice. I wish I could introduce myself, but my name’s still eluding me.”

“Who cares about you?”

Her face froze, the door closed down. 

I do, I thought. Way after the iron lady and her armored guards had left me.

With only four and a half hours left, I spent every minute of my time relaxing.

To win their trust, I had to play the good citizen.

18

Back in the training facility, Konforma led me to the lockers. I recognized some kind of machine pistol, the Dust Viper 15mm from last time, a few mags and something reminiscent of a grenade. Nothing to win a war, but more impressive than a single pistol. With every new session, the arms load-out got a tad more impressive. I wondered what waited for me once I cracked the high score. Konforma watched me assembling my gear.

“You’re a decent shooter, but decency is only the price of admission. To survive in the Lost Lands, you have to be vigilant. Danger lurks around every concrete corner.”

She was finally spilling some information.

“Who are my enemies? This world looks forsaken.”

“That’s an illusion. While life inside our glorious cluster is safe, the surrounding world is infested with enemies. Cruel renegades with no morals but maximum firepower.”

Crueler than the folks inside the Bulwark?

Hard to imagine.

“Do these enemies have a name?”

“They do, but that’s not on today’s menu.”

Looked like I already hit the off-topic zone. It wasn’t really big.

“So what is on today’s menu?”

“Training with the standard-issued weapon of the Bulwark forces. The legendary AK-BL8.”

“Say what?”

Konforma showed it to me instead. A closed locker with fortified armor opened up and showed me the insides. A robust assault rifle with a blade attached under the barrel. No, it wasn’t just attached, it seemed to be embedded into the firearm. And it wasn’t your standard blade either—the surface looked crystalline.

Made out of diamonds? 

Konforma's eyes sparkled, but maybe it was her resolution.

“This is the modular AK-BL8, the Bulwark soldier’s primary weapon. You may take it from the locker.”

My hands grabbed the firearm from the clamps. The weight felt just right.

“It is a remarkable rifle. You will realize that soon."

Konforma opened the gate to the training center. It was the same from last time, except this version was drowned in sand. 

“What in the world?”

“We’ve replicated the conditions from the Lost Lands. The area is populated with training dummies that are out to get you. The goal is to eliminate all hostiles.”

One test puppet on a roof caught my sight and unleashed a volley of bullets. They shredded the sand around me and whirled it up. My body jerked away, I hunkered down next to a concrete pillar. Another shooter on an adjacent roof opened fire. The projectiles ate away my concrete cover. 

“Where’s my mag?”

Konforma projected herself next to me.

“It’s attached to your rifle.”

“But it’s empty. There’s not a single round inside.”

“Looks like you’re going to prematurely die.”

She was kidding, except her lips didn’t move. More bullets flashed around me. Pieces of concrete blew apart.

Those suckers really used live ammo.

“Stop messing with me, I’m under heavy fire.”

“Do you want to know a little trick?”

This holo girl had no qualms.

“Say pretty please.”

I was tired of talking to her, but I didn’t want to get shot either. Bullet holes didn’t look good on my body, so I said pretty please.

Konforma clapped.

“You have to detach the mag from your AK and push it into the sand.”

I threw her a look but it didn’t turn her off. 

She was mocking me.

Meanwhile, the fire intensified and my concrete shrunk with every new volley.

“Can you just deactivate the puppets?”

“I could, but how would you learn?”

To hell with her.

I rammed the other end of the mag into the sand next to me.

“Satisfied?”

Konforma's digital eyes glistened.

“You will be, in a few seconds.”

She was right.

Mechanical noises sounded from the mag. The sand around it crumbled.

“You see, it’s not your average magazine. It’s actually a bullet printer.”

“Come again?”

“It soaks up the sand, compresses it into the cartridge's bullet form and adds the propellant for your shooting pleasure.”

It sounded ridiculous, but that seemed to be happening. The mag’s rear had a digital counter that shot upwards. 10, 15, 20 and so on. When it reached fifty, it stopped working. Konforma cheered.

“Yay. Your mag has finished compressing. You may feed it to your rifle. Little tip for the future: the mag can print up to 1000 bullets out of sand before it needs to be replaced.”

I jammed the mag back into my AK-BL8. The ammo counter displayed 50 bullets. I chose selective fire and waited behind my cover spot. When one of the puppets on the roof stopped shooting to reload, I swung around and opened fire. My bullets pierced the ledge and penetrated the puppet. It collapsed and fell from the building. I repeated the action with the opposite shooter. The sucker fell in a single volley.

This baby was a blessing.

“Who knew sand could blast like that?”

Konforma giggled next to me.

“Heh, if you can compress coal into diamonds, you can surely compress sand into something just as hard."

I sprinted from cover spot to cover spot and pushed my back against a house wall. More attackers stormed the area. They behaved like humans, taking cover, peeking around and unleashing bullet storms. Through the wall opening, I entered the forsaken building, cleared the ground floor, then the second. I carefully neared an open window which offered me a good view over the surrounding buildings. My eyes detected two targets on the adjacent structure, two floors below. The second their heads showed up on the window, I squeezed.

With my aim, the headshots rolled it, thanks to the power of sand. My ammo counter revealed the remaining bullets: 17. 

Konforma watched my every step. 

“Can this mag turn concrete into rounds?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure our engineers are working on that.” 

“They better hurry.”

“You, too.” 

I did an overwatch from my spot to take down the last culprit on the street down below. I retreated, ran down the stairs and proceeded to the next spot when a puppet rolled around the corner.

Damn.

He was too close for a shot, so I rammed the sword of my AK-BL8 into him. Couldn’t believe what happened next. The blade penetrated him like melted butter. With another swing, I cut the puppet’s torso from its waist and watched both parts tumbling to the ground. The cables and electronics sparkled.

“That’s one heck of a blade. What material is it made of?”