City Heart Kern
The escape pod shuddered and groaned in agony, drowning my own cries. I closed my eyes. Not that I could have seen anything with them open. Damn bargain-bin junk, all the screens had gone blank and the disturbingly coffin-sized pod was free falling. The temperature started to rise. Shit. Tearing through atmosphere at god knows what speed, and the heat panels are crap too. I slammed my palm against the emergency auto-pilot, praying there might be a few circuits still firing. Then it started to spin. Disoriented as I was, I felt the slow turn, and almost started bawling right then. Bracing against the walls, there was nothing to help me as the pod spun faster and faster. My head jerked back, I felt my stomach heave before blacking out.
My name is Ava Long, female, 27 years old. I'm a Private Class Technician Pilot in the Trade Fleet of XV and this is my life. Actually, I'm not usually hurtling into unknown atmospheres. Most days I do maintenance work on Fleet ships. It's not really a riveting life, certainly not glamorous when I'm crawling through the intestines of ships, covered in grit and grease. But they say it's an honest living, which is what my mother always told me to hope for. Then again most people of my mother's generation think like that, because they lived through the last of the GenEn Years. They witnessed entire generations of genetically engineered children die at the age of 20, prey to some malfunction that had been mistakenly written into their DNA; mankind's punishment for messing with God's work. The deaths numbered in the billions and they watched helpless for 20 years as the successive generations died. I guess I can't blame them for not being ambitious. After the Lost Generations, people became obsessed with maintaining the purity of the human body and mind, and honest jobs like crawling through the intestines of ships your whole life became desirable things to do. Even when it lands you crashed on an alien planet.
As I woke, I noticed everything was still. At first, I was quite relieved. But I was still, too. Too still. A dull red light blinked at me, and as my eyes focused I read PILOT ERROR on the monitor. "Ah, shove it up your fuel pipe," I croaked. I reached for the manual latch to open the pod, figuring the electronics were shot. My eyes wouldn't focus, so I felt my way to the broken cover and reached in to turn the handle. I heard the hiss of pressure pumps as they released, and the sudden light through the cracked opening blinded me. But light, however bright, is always better than the darkness, and I attempted to roll out the side. It was only then I realized my left arm was pinned. Looking over I saw the crushed metal clamping down over my shoulder. I saw the blood. I hadn't even felt it, still couldn't. I wondered if the depressant I had taken before entering atmosphere was still working to hide the pain. In a sort of grotesque wonder, I tried to work my shoulder free. It had been punctured by the pod wall, and the flesh hung loose as I pulled away. I tried not to look. I kicked at the door to open it and rolled onto my knees. The movement hit me hard and my vision went black as my stomach convulsed. It was a few moments before I could see; a few more before I could feel. There was sand underneath me, and some deep-grained instinct told me to keep my shoulder up or I would never get it clean. So, crouched on a knee, a foot, and a hand, I crawled around to the other side of my crashed pod, out of the sun.
I think I dozed off. Next thing I could remember, the shadow of my pod was much longer, the air was cooler, and there was an infernal pain coming from the entire left side of my body. The depressant had worn off. I tried standing, stupid and painful as it was. I clenched my teeth so hard I think I strained my jaw, but I managed to get back around to the pod door. I searched for the kit of medical supplies, praying there was enough left in it to be used. I had taken most of the pills in flight to fight the nausea and general paranoia of having no idea where your third-rate escape pod is taking you. There were adhesive bandages and antibacterial salve, and one glorious shot of consumer-grade morphine. I used them all.
With the pain dulled, I started to notice the state of my body. After two rounds of vomit and about a pint of blood, my clothes were pretty despicable. Only my trusty combat-grade boots were still intact. I smiled bleakly at the black leather. I clicked my toes together. I think they were happy to be intact, too.
Let's call it the morphine kicking in.
Next course of action: I reclined my head inside the pod and reached up to activate the distress beacon. That at least still worked, with its own power source. I tried the navigation systems, but they were still merrily offline. Flight log, personal log, long-range communication, local scanners . . . The blank screens seemed sad, and I absently patted the panels in pity. "Not your fault of course," I said to the pod. "You're just a piece of junk. Not like the really classy ships with escape pods that are like cruise liners." I had never worked on one of those—the really high class transport ships. The ships in Trade Fleet XV didn't really cater to luxury. They might be solid as bedrock in the air, but they were a far cry from home.
And now here I was, farther than ever from home. Or maybe closer. Didn't know. No Navigation Computer. At least I still had my combat boots.
The horizon was bleak, to say the least. I landed on tourist hot spot number one, for sure. Turning, I blinked. And blinked again. That, I thought, had to be a mirage. There was a bubble on the horizon. A perfect, shimmering, obviously imagined bubble. I wondered if the morphine had gone bad. No matter. Sinking back into the pod, I stared at the quiet equipment. It was then the panic started to set in. I was alone, on a desolate planet I did not recognize, with a pod that was completely non-functioning, nearly no hope of rescue, and I had no food or medical supplies left. I looked back at the bubble. Still there. Well, there were really no other options. I set out towards the bubble and didn't look back until my shoulder started to throb. The pod stuck up on the horizon like a sore thumb, but it looked painfully close considering how long I had been walking. Nothing to do but keep going.
When I was twelve I had gone to a museum on my home world. It was a dome-shaped building that was a replica of an ancient space colony shield used when Mars was still being colonized. There was one exhibit there that had fascinated me. An android, long unused, was preserved and stood on display. It was female in form, and incredibly beautiful. Its skin was a pale plastic, and wires were molded to look like hair cascading from its head. I had always wondered if it would still open its eyes if someone plugged it in, still come alive like they said it used to. I visited that exhibit every day for a month until my mother found out. She said it wasn't healthy to think too much about the mistakes of the past.
The sun was halfway below the hills when I started to notice the dropping temperature. I shivered and clutched at my jacket, but by that time I could only move my right arm. The sun was setting with obscene slowness, and it rattled me. I was breathing hard, laboring just to walk. My lungs began to burn, my head grew light. Soon every move became strained, every one of my muscles screamed. It would seem the atmosphere on this particular planet was not exactly human friendly. Just my luck. By the time the sun had disappeared I was gasping and barely maintaining my balance. I thought I was going to faint. I was really quite tired of fainting lately. As I collapsed onto my knees, I saw lights coming towards me and heard the low rumble of approaching machinery. It felt as though my throat had constricted to the size of a needle. I heard the machines get closer, was aware of people—that is I assumed they were people—beside me. I was also aware of my face in the sand, which is where it ended up. I felt hands taking me, limb by limb, and transporting me to some hard surface, but my eyes could not focus anymore. I could only assume I was put into the machine I heard, for when the noise of it started again it was much louder and all around me. And then, curse it all, I did pass out.
This time, however, it was not for long. My eyes opened, and very slowly things came into focus. I felt weak beyond reason, and could not move. There was a mask over my mouth, and the breath I drew cooled the fire that had been coursing through me. There was a thin, shiny blanket over me that was surprisingly warm. I heard voices, and could make out three men standing near. They wore dark uniforms and capes of the same material as the blanket. One wore a helmet that extended down over his mouth, I assumed in a breather mask. He sat lightly on the edge of the narrow bed I was lying on, and slowly took off the helmet and mask. His face was pale. I gathered he was more affected than the others by whatever in the air had made me so weak. He looked young, anyway.
The men did not speak to me as the machine rumbled on. I couldn't judge the time very well. It may have been twenty minutes, may have been two hours. When it grew quiet, and I realized we had stopped, they spoke in strange accents. "Up now, missy, we're at Kinder." I pushed myself up, fighting weakness and a touch of nausea. The young one held out his arm to help me. With a kind glance, he said, "I can't take the air either. Makes me weak even with a mask on." He helped me out of the van-like machine. I didn't get a good look at it because I was staring at the dome. About twenty meters away, it was a solid wall that soared into the sky on all fronts and seemed to plunge deep into the ground below. It was reflecting a dull glow all over its surface, but I've no idea from where. There was no moon that I could see.
We went into a small enclosure that I realized was an elevator leading to a passage under the wall. When the doors opened on the other side it was to light and sound and warmth and a clear feeling that had not been present outside. We were now, of course, inside that dome.
I looked up.
And kept looking up.
The dome rose above my head, stretching my eyes, my perception, and my imagination with it as it expanded to my right and left in a circumference I couldn't comprehend. Mind you, I have been on my fair share of spaceships that are truly massive in design, but this beat them all.
"Welcome to Kinder," said one of the men. He pointed up. "That's Kinder, of course. Solid, ten meters thick, all round the city. Run by City Heart. We're taking you to her."
I didn't know what he was talking about—at all—but I followed him into a standard ground vehicle with an open top. Its motor hummed pleasantly as we drove through kilometers of farmland. We began passing small buildings built with the mathematical precision that flagged a planned city. In a dome colony like this I wasn't surprised . The sudden tall buildings that marked the beginning of the city with a visible uniform front confirmed that the layout had been planned. Once we reached the center rings of the city the buildings became unique, though all were in detailed Earth Historical Revival architecture. This made me smile. I was a sucker for architecture as a kid, and I marveled at the detailed Corinthian columns and relief-carved friezes. The only building that wasn't in this style was the one we were now approaching. It was massive, taking up what must have been four blocks in the center of the city. Decidedly modern, the white marble swept upward in an unbroken wave. Looking up I could see, far above me, a spidery pattern of light that gathered and intensified in a brief downward plunge before being swallowed by what must have been the top of the structure. The lights, I realized, came from the sprawling dome. This was indeed the center of the city.
We walked through a long entrance hall illuminated by low lights. The men led me into a large chamber where I could not see the ceiling. Rather than looking up, my eyes gravitated to the end of the chamber. There, lit by candles—candles, mind you, actual wax candles with a wick and flame and everything, hadn't even seen those since I was about ten—an open coffin was resting on a raised platform. The men around me had halted, were now bowing. This didn't make sense. An obviously modern city that had some mystical religious tomb at its center? Was this the City Heart they had spoken of?
"She wants you to go to her," said the young man. I had no idea how he knew this, no one had spoken. I was on my guard now because, no matter how advanced they may seem, religiously convicted people are never to be trusted. Who knew when they might become excited and decide I had insulted their god, or worse? So I went forward, cautiously. As I drew closer to the coffin, I began to make out more of what was at this end of the chamber. Wires. A massive bulk of wires that extended up into the dark beyond my vision. They seemed to spawn from the coffin. Some sort of worshipped computer? It wouldn't be the strangest form of religion I'd encountered. I walked up the steps and looked into the coffin.
I must have yelled, because I heard it echoing around me. My knees went weak, and I had to lean on the coffin. No, it wasn't a coffin. Because what was inside wasn't dead. It was a woman, lying deathly still but breathing, with thin wires coming out of her arms, legs, chest, and head. The lights from the glittering wires could be seen through her thin pale skin, bits of energy moving inside the veins of the woman. She—it—was a computer, an android. Or worse, it was a cyborg, some mixture of machine and human. Every Trade Law ruled against this sort of abomination. I should have been outraged, but at first I was too stunned by the pale face framed in wires to even speak.
"She wants to speak to you," said the young man. He held out a small crescent shaped object. I stared at him in horror. "Put it on your ear." He obviously thought my silence came from a lack of understanding. It did not.
"I'm not speaking to that thing," I said. He looked surprised.
"But she wishes to speak to you."
"That's all well and good, but I do not wish to speak to it."
He stared at me, silent for a few moments, a dazed look on his face. When he spoke, I realized he must have been listening to some voice. "She means you no harm. Just listen."
I glanced at the other two men, who were still at the entrance to the chamber. If they became too insistent, I wouldn't be able to hold them off. So I took the earpiece.
Welcome to my city. The voice was strangely echoed, many-layered, and seemed to carry with it emotion like no audible voice could. I looked at the figure. It had not moved.
"What are you?" was my first question, the most important, to discover what level of wrongness this situation rated.
I am City Heart. Real helpful, that was.
"What are you? Machine or man?"
Oh. It was a strangely defeated sound. I am the living component of the Kinder System that runs this city.
I looked at the wires that reached so far up. The lights above the building must have been wires that came down to this. "Were you ever alive?" I said.
I am alive now. The voice seemed a little annoyed.
"I mean were you ever a human being?"
I am a human, now.
I looked at the body. Though it had not moved, I got the sense in my mind that it was crossing its arms and glaring at me. It was a visualization I did not like. "Were you ever apart from this machine?" I said, a bit more delicately.
Yes, if that's what you want to know.
It was. I took off the earpiece. Looking at the man, I said, "You realize this is a tremendous violation of Trade Law, Ethics, Morals and Procedures. This whole colony could be shut down, destroyed, even if this is the only cyborg you have. I hope for your sake you don't have more."
He just looked at me. After a moment he spoke. "We'll take you to a place where you can rest, and treat those wounds. You'll feel better in the morning." I couldn't believe he was just ignoring what I had said. When I didn't move, he touched my arm lightly and said, "Come on." I followed.
The next day they brought me into the chamber again. I took the earpiece and listened, but I did not look at that body.
I trust you slept well.
"Yes. I rested."
And your wounds have been treated?
"I'm fine." My arm had been stitched, the bones set, and my bruises salved and bandaged. The medical facilities here were fully modern. I was surprised, after seeing this cyborg, to find they were civilized at all.
Where are you from?
"The Trade Fleet of XV."
XV? So . . . The Fleets are still running, are they?
"What?" I hadn't expected them to know about Trade. "What do you know about them?"
It was the Twelfth Fleet, last I heard. Good to know they're progressing.
"Fleet XII? But, that was 50 years ago. That Fleet ran during the Lost Generations."
Yes.
"You know?" I stepped back from the platforms, but the presence of that voice followed me. "You know about the Lost Generations? How can you be a cyborg, how can they let you live here if they know about it?"
They don't know. This city was founded long before that particular fiasco.
"Then how do you know?"
I came to this city during that time.
"What are you?" I asked.
I think 'Who' would be a much nicer way of putting that, you know.
There was a peevish quality in the voice that did not fit with the wires, the machine-like ethereal being who had been speaking. "Fine. Who are you?"
The voice sighed. I am City Heart. I run Kinder.
I didn't reply. That wasn't what I had been asking.
After a moment, the voice said, My name was Lainah, once.
"Lainah?" I felt strange, knowing her name. Suddenly I could see this body as being human, and the voice that went with it. That's part of why Human Interface AIs are banned, why computers can't have names other than numbers. It makes them too human. I couldn't help looking at her face, the silver wires pressing against her pale cheeks like locks of hair frozen in ice. "Why are you here?"
Why are you here?
I was a little taken aback. "I crashed. Systems failed on the Fleet ship, I made it to an old escape pod, ended up here."
Same story, I'm afraid.
"But why are you here, in this machine?" I was gesturing at the wires, but felt silly. Her eyes weren't open.
I needed it. I was . . . ill. The Kinder System saved me.
"But surely you didn't need all this. The medicine here is modern, they could have cured any disease."
No one could cure the disease I had. It wasn't natural. It was man-made.
Looking at her, I suddenly felt a cold rush of fear and recognition. "You were Genetically Engineered, weren't you? You're a GenEn?"
Yes. Her voice echoed with such sadness, the length of the decades between her and I were laid bare before me in my mind. The Kinder System stops the DNA malfunctions. It managed to reverse most of the deterioration and continually keeps them in check. It can't really cure me, but it contains the disease.
"You look so young," was all I said, staring at her pale face and wire-strewn body.
Kinder keeps me from aging. It's a side effect of stopping cell deterioration. It's the key to immortality, if you don't mind the setup.
"Why did you bring me here?" The question had been nagging me.
Oh I do get so few visitors, you know, being on an uncharted planet and all.
"Can you help me get back to Trade Space?"
She did not respond for so long I thought my earpiece had fallen off. Finally, she spoke, but her voice had gone cold and distant, more like a machine than a girl with a name. No. Atmospheric conditions prevent any long range communications from leaving the planet. This city is unknown to Trade Space. Sorry, but there's no way off. Please return to your room. A doctor will be by to check on your wounds.
The dismissal was so abrupt I almost didn't realize it had happened. But there was an emptiness in the earpiece, a clear cut off. More than a little bewildered, I left. There was no one waiting to lead me back. I felt very alone as I returned to the small bedroom I had stayed in the previous night. No doctor came. I did not want to leave the building, but took to pacing my room. It was small, a lot like the closet dorms on Fleet ships. Just as cramped and lonely, just as barren. There must have been hundreds of people moving around me in the building, but in that room I was alone. Though not entirely. Every time I closed my eyes I saw her face. Strangely pale and only a little sunken, too like a doll, a painting. It was so like the android I had seen in the museum as a child, that same cold ethereal beauty, but her eyes opened, her chest moved with life. She haunted me, behind my eyelids, just as much as the android had. I couldn't escape her, no matter how long I paced.
The only person I saw came to bring me food. He smiled and was kind, but his face terrified me. As the long restless day turned into a longer nearly sleepless night, I began feeling like I was back on a ship; the weight of steel around me, the emptiness of space crushing in on every side. Maybe it was the knowledge of isolation, or the shock of the crash setting in. I was never a psychology buff, so I just told myself there were logical explanations to my mental unrest. But the only explanation I could come up with was what stared at me from behind my eyelids; the face of Lainah. I had to go speak to her again.
"Lainah," I said as I approached her. The earpiece was still on my head. Sticky bugger.
Yes.
"I have a question. You said the city was founded long before the Lost Generations, but you are a GenEn. How did you get here?"
Crashed, I told you that.
"Yes, but what about this machine? Did they make it just for you?"
No. The previous City Heart had come to the end of her reign, and wanted me to take over.
"So there is a way to get out of the machine?"
Yes, but not for me. I can't live without it.
"But you could live, at least for a little while. Maybe you could develop some sort of treatment, maybe you could only be hooked to the machine part time. Don't you want to live again, really live, be free?"
But I am free. I can be everywhere in the city at once. I can watch the stars go by at night in panorama. I can do so much more than I ever could before. I'm happy to be the City Heart. It's more than I could have wished for.
There was that strange sadness in her voice again that made me persist. "But don't you want to feel the wind and the sun on your face?" Ok, that might have been a bit sappy, but I was desperate.
I can, every day. I can feel through Kinder, I can feel the wind on the city.
Inspired, I grabbed her hand. I was immediately struck by how thin and cold it was. Careful of the wires that spilled from her fingertips and arm, I blew gently on her fingers. "Don't you miss that?" I said.
She was silent. I laid her hand back down. It was so still, seemed so weak. My fingers stayed in contact with hers. I do, she finally said, very slowly, miss that.
"You could have it again, I'm sure of it. There must be a way. And, even if there isn't, wouldn't you rather live, if only for a little while, than be a part of this system forever? Humans aren't meant to be immortal, aren't meant to be machines. It's not right for you to be like this."
I'm glad you think so.
Odd thing to say. "You mean you do want to get out? I'm sure I could help you." Not that a Private-Class tech is really going to be that helpful, but hey, I was offering wasn't I?
Yes, you could help me. But will you give me your word? Do you promise to help me, do you really want to do whatever it might take?
"Of course, just tell me how." I felt the tiniest prick on my finger, and looked down. I had been touching her hand this whole time, and a single tiny wire had attached itself to my finger. A wave of revulsion and nausea hit me at the sight, at the knowledge that a machine had just entered my body. But then she spoke, and her voice was no longer just in my ear, but in my mind, my arms and legs, my whole body resonated with her presence.
You can help me very much. And I can help you. I know what you really want. It's the same as what I want. I can give it to you.
"What do I want?" I said. I felt dazed, and a strange numbness was spreading from my hand that became not a numbness but a super-sensitivity. I felt it trickling up my arm and my spine until it hit my head. "What is this?"
Nanites. But you don't have to worry about anything anymore. I'll take care of you. They'll take care of you too, just like they care for me.
Robots. Robots in my blood. She was going to turn me into something like her, a cyborg, a machine. I pulled my hand back, but the wire did not leave. It stretched, shimmering and somehow alive. "Stop this. I don't want to be like you."
You won't be. But you said you would help me out of this. I can't leave Kinder, but you can, and I can come with you.
I looked at her, but then I wasn't just seeing her, I was feeling her. I was strangely aware of another body, a living body that coursed with life, and that expanded far above, stretching over the dome for kilometers and interacting with hundreds of machines. My mind went with it, it pulled my awareness farther and farther from my own body. She was there with me, around me, guiding me through it all.
This is Kinder, she said, but I didn't hear it anymore, because my ears were so far away from me. You can come with me here. And I can be with you when you when you walk and feel the sun and breeze on your skin. Isn't this what you wanted?
What I wanted? I said. But I didn't say it. I only thought it, and she heard.
To have someone there, always, never to be alone. To have beauty in your life, to see and hold and breathe something worth having, to reach for stars and bring back their light unscathed. A life worth loving, a love worth living for. I can give you this, I can be this, I am this.
She towered before me in my mind, her eyes blazing into me and seeing things I had never seen. She enveloped me in her presence and I was drowning. What is it that you want? Why did you bring me here, why did you save me from the desert?
I was lonely. I wanted you.
I could feel her then beside me, lying in her strange bed. I was in my body, but somehow I could feel what she felt, when I touched her hand again. Looking at her my vision doubled. Though I saw her pale face in the coffin, I also saw her smiling eyes open and joyous and lovely, laughing. I saw her sit up, wires only shadows now trailing behind her, and she reached out to me. I felt her thin arms embrace me, even as I touched her unmoving hand. I felt the nanites inside me, swarming around my nerves, my spine.
Don't worry about them. You'll get used to it. It'll take some time for them to settle in, but then you'll never have to worry about illness or injuries, never worry again.
"You're making me into a machine," I said, but I was not afraid.
No. I'm just letting you help me. That's what you wanted too.
"What do you want?" I asked her again.
I want you.
Every day, in some small part of my mind, I feel the nanites getting deeper. I feel the wires moving further up my veins when I visit her. But the rest of my brain is filled with only Lainah. She is there, every day, with me and around me, and I am falling deeper into her with each metallic-tainted breath I take.
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