Debris of Shadows Book I: The Lies of the Sage Read online

  They could force you, she thought. If they wanted to do those things, they wouldn’t need a suit.

  Yeah, she replied to herself, but that doesn’t mean I have to dive in headfirst.

  With a sigh, she undressed.

  The suit felt like a cold, spongy water balloon, squishing against her skin with thousands of microscopic fingers. She pulled the hood over her head, fastening its curtains to her shoulders and neck with Velcro in the darkness. The hood contained a rubber gag and perforated nose plugs. She pushed them into her mouth and nostrils, and felt the passage of cool air. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and pressed the locking button on her waist.

  With a whooshing noise, the suit filled with liquid, molding itself to her body’s contours. She groaned in disgust as it simultaneously pushed between her toes, fingers, and buttocks, and into her ears, nostrils, and mouth. She struggled against it, gasping for breath.

  “Don’t fight it,” 0800’s voice said in her ears. “The suit carries an atmosphere mix that is breathable through a permeable membrane. Just breathe normally.” She did as instructed, and found that it was true.

  “Ready?” he asked. “Here we go.”

  The world spun, as if the floor had dropped from beneath her. Blackness stretched in all directions. “I’m falling,” she said. “I’m nothing, I don’t have a body.”

  “Don’t panic,” 0800 said, his voice echoing in the void. “Close your eyes, it will be easier.”

  “No.”

  “As you wish.”

  A searing light exploded in front of her. Rows and columns of simple geometric shapes spun before her eyes, shooting off miles into the distance. A sense of mass returned to her body, and then it was not the world that spun, it was her. Her inner ear swung a few degrees out of synchronization with the sights in front of her, and a wave of nausea churned her stomach. She closed her eyes, and waited for it to pass.

  Jets of wind blew against her cheeks. She felt heat, then cold, and then wetness flowing over her. She heard a hollow chime, like the tolling of a bell far off in the distance, and then something pressed hard against her back.

  “You can open your eyes.”

  Alyanna did as instructed. She lay on her bed, in her bedroom, naked. She yanked the sheet over herself, and curled into a ball. “Are you watching me?” she asked.

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed—”

  “I’m not ashamed,” she said over her shoulder. “Stop watching me.”

  A few seconds passed. “All right, you have been reduced to a block outline, as far as we can see,” he said. “That’s the best I can do for you. I won’t restore our reception of your data to a higher resolution until you are dressed.”

  She sighed, and uncurled her limbs. She examined her arm. They had perfectly modeled her skin, right down to the mole on her left elbow. She ran her hand across the rough stubble on her thighs, and felt clumps of cellulite. Maybe the illusion was too real.

  The bedroom about her was a close representation of the real thing, but not perfect. It was as if she were on the stage of a play set in her house. The dresser was not hers, she guessed that it was as close a model as the Cylebs had in their library. The mirror was too new; it did not have the little black spots in the corner where the reflective paint had worn off.

  She opened a drawer. It contained plain white bras, panties, and socks. Another held simple blouses, one for each color of the rainbow. Jeans, slacks, and a skirt hung in the closet, ironed and creased. Underneath the bed resided pairs of sneakers, sandals, and slippers.

  “Any way I can improve the wardrobe?” she asked.

  “There is a catalogue on the bookshelf,” said 0800. His voice came from the stereo on the dresser. “Are you dressed?”

  “Stop patronizing me,” she said, slipping on the underwear, “you know I’m not.”

  After she dressed, she examined herself in the mirror. She tried doing different things. She stuck out her belly, and her virtual body complied. She whistled. The sound reverberated in her ears. “All right,” she said, “I’m ready. Now please tell me what the hell this is for?”

  The door to her bedroom opened. General Jaeger stood in the doorway, his glowing eyes expressionless, his scarred lips spread wide in their perpetual grin. He crooked his finger, and Matthew stepped into the room.

  “Oh my God,” Alyanna said. She ran to him, and clutched him to her chest, kissing his face. He clung to her, his fingers digging into her back.

  “You okay, Mommy?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, “oh God, yes.” Something in his left shoulder made a crackling noise, like static. She pulled back his t–shirt to reveal a pixelated blur. She touched his skin there, and felt a slight but rapid vibration beneath.

  “I’m afraid that’s the best the Sage can do right now,” Jaeger said. “It’s quite an accomplishment, considering that it’s combining two different intelligences.”

  “Does it hurt, sweetie?” asked Alyanna.

  Matthew made a face, and poked his shoulder. “It’s prickly,” he said, “like it’s asleep.”

  Bananas chose that moment to bound into the room. She ran to Alyanna, and slurped at her hands. Alyanna hugged her, burying her face in the retriever’s fur. She even smelled like a dog.

  “Matthew, why don’t you come with me for a bit,” Jaeger said as Sigma entered the room. “Your mother and Sigma have things they need to discuss.”

  Matthew clutched her, and looked up with wide, frightened eyes. “It’s okay,” Alyanna said. Matthew squeezed her, and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mommy,” he said. Then he ran off to follow the glowing general, Bananas running and yelping behind them.

  Sigma closed the door. “Are you happy now,” she asked.

  “Yes,” Alyanna said. “Oh God, it’s wonderful. And I can see him whenever I want?”

  Sigma gave her a small smile. “Of course you can.”

  Alyanna furrowed her brow, wondering what the smile meant. “Ow,” she said. She looked at her left wrist. “Something’s wrong.”

  “Not at all,” said Sigma, still smiling.

  Alyanna backed away. “What are you…” She choked back a cry, and fell to her knees, clutching at her pelvis. She felt an almost uncontrollable urge to empty her bowels. Something stabbed her urethra. “What are you doing?”

  “Inserting urinary and rectal catheters,” said Sigma. The pain in your wrist is an I.V. And that,” she said as Alyanna gagged, “is a feeding tube. Unlike your son and dog, you’ll still need to eat and drink. Give the Sage a moment, and you’ll be able to talk normally.”

  Alyanna clutched her knees as she rocked back and forth on the bedroom floor. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why?” asked Sigma. “You chose to stay, and comfort your son. You have a home as promised, and a studio full of all the painting equipment you could require. What is the problem?”

  “I’m trapped here?”

  “Shush,” Sigma said. “You wouldn’t want your son to hear and be upset, would you?” Alyanna retched, making gurgling noises in her throat. “This is a scientific and military research complex, Mrs. Galbraith. We don’t have luxury accommodations for spoiled artists.”

  “You bitch,” said Alyanna. She rose to her feet, and swung at her. The air rippled, and the Cyleb shifted in space, reappearing at her side.

  “You’ll want to relax,” Sigma said. “Don’t forget, you’ve got a bun in the oven. And don’t worry, we’re making sure to feed you for two.”

  “Where is he?” asked Alyanna. “Where’s Jaeger?”

  “General Jaeger is busy,” Sigma said. “You may join your son when you relax.” Her smile disappeared. “And here’s something to keep in mind, Artist. You are our guest here, inside of the Sage. We’ll be watching you, always.” Before Alyanna could reply, she vanished.

  She opened her bedroom door. The hallway and stairs were the same as in her house, yet, like the props in her bedroom, they were not. The wallpaper patte
rn was more spread out than before, and its surface was flat instead of raised. The spot where the zhivoi–painting of Bananas had resided was no longer faded. She placed her hand on the wooden railing that was half an inch too wide and had too rich a stain, and descended the stairs.

  Matthew lay on the floor of the playroom, drawing with his crayons. Bananas lay curled beside him, panting, staring at him with adoring eyes. “I told her to calm down,” he said without looking up. “She was driving me cuckoo.”

  Alyanna stepped into the room. The Cylebs had provided Matthew with a virt projector, toy cars, stuffed animals, action figures, and even a bicycle. She wondered where he could ride it. She walked to the front door, and opened it.

  A warm, sunny day awaited her, complete with wispy clouds that adorned the horizon. How much space did this program hold? Did it only go as far as the trees? She wondered what lay beyond, if it were perhaps just a never–ending forest.

  Matthew came up behind her. “Wow,” he said. He pushed past her, and ran outside.

  “Hey,” Alyanna called. The pains in her throat, wrist, and pelvis had subsided into dull aches, and she ran to him on shaking legs. He turned around, and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Come on, Mommy,” he said. “I want to play.”

  “In a minute honey,” said Alyanna. She knelt on the grass, and took his hands in hers. His left hand felt cold. She massaged it. “How do you feel?” she asked. “Any headaches?”

  “Nope,” Matthew said, swinging his head back and forth. He started to pull away, but she would not let go.

  “Wait a moment,” she said. She sat cross–legged, and patted her lap. He plopped down on top of her. Oof, she thought, watch that baby. He seemed heavier than before.

  “What do you remember?” she asked. The back of his head did not move. She stroked his soft, fine hair. “Honey?”

  “I was sick,” he said, “like I was falling, like I was swimming, but I was gonna drown.”

  “That’s all?” she asked. He looked at his lap. “Honey, what happened after you went swimming?”

  “Nothing,” he said, his eyes wide. “I’m a good boy. I’m happy, see?” A grin that did not touch his eyes spread across his face.

  Alyanna’s heart sunk. She pulled him close. “You’re always a good boy,” she said in his ear, her voice soft. “You fell asleep, and woke up with Bananas, right?” He nodded. “Except your arm didn’t work?”

  He shook his head. “Did it hurt?” she asked. He seemed to think it over, debating whether to tell her the truth. Then he nodded.

  “Could you see me?”

  He nodded again. “You were big in the sky,” he said.

  “But you couldn’t touch me.”

  Matthew shook his head. “Nope.” He began to cry. Alyanna clutched him close to her, kissing his head.

  “Did you think you were being punished?” she asked. He nodded. “Oh God.” She placed her hands on his flushed cheeks. “Listen to me,” she said. “You were not being punished, do you understand? You were very sick, and putting you there was the only way to make you better.”

  “I don’t have to go there any more, do I?” he asked.

  She took a deep breath, not sure how to answer. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, running her hands through his hair. “Matthew, have you talked to anyone else?”

  “My brothers,” he said. “My brothers helped me get better.”

  Alyanna swallowed, absorbing the word. “I see,” she said.

  “And Sigma, and General Jaeger,” he said. He giggled. “That’s a silly sounding name.”

  Alyanna bit the inside of her cheek. “But he’s not silly, is he?”

  “No.”

  She shook herself from the gloom that had settled over them. “Hey, guess what?” she asked. He shrugged. “I have a baby in my tummy.”

  “No you don’t.”

  Alyanna tickled him. He squealed, and shifted away from her hands. “Yep,” she said. “Do you want to say hello?”

  “Hello, baby!” he yelled at her stomach. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “I don’t know,” Alyanna said. But I do know that I will not have it in here, she thought. When I do have it, I’m leaving, and I’m taking you with me.

  “So, how are you fitting in with your new life?”

  Alyanna looked across her kitchen table at 0800. A week had passed, during which both mother and child had adapted to their new world as well as they could. There had been no contact with the Cylebs, at least none that Alyanna could see. She knew she was constantly under observation, she just did her best to ignore it.

  She peeled an orange. Its tangy aroma filled her sinuses. It had the same smell as the orange she had eaten the day before, and the day before that. She bit into the meat of the fruit. It was soft, sweet, and acidic. She chewed it, and swallowed. The sensation disappeared from her mouth.

  “You could at least time the feeding tube to match when I eat,” she said.

  0800 shrugged. “It doesn’t work that way,” he said, “at least not with a V.R. suit. Maybe if you had a neural interface implant, that could connect your sensory input directly to the Sage.”

  “Yeah, fat chance,” said Alyanna. She snorted, and tugged at the collar of her blouse. The color of the day was violet. “I hate this place,” she said. “It’s too clean. There’s no dust, or grime, or even anything to vacuum.”

  “You want us to program a chaotic particle system into the simulation, just so you can clean it?” he asked. “That would consume far too much of the processors. Do you miss housework that much?”

  “I miss normality.” She stood. “Can I have Isis? Can you transplant her personality into this Sage of yours?”

  0800 gave her a thin smile. “I wouldn’t mind,” he said, “but some of us find the idea of a domestic artificial intelligence prejudiced.”

  Alyanna rolled her eyes. She carried her plate to the sink, and washed it. The water felt real as it flowed over her hands. She placed the plate in the rack. “So,” she said, “is this just a social call?”

  “Not exactly,” said 0800. “We need to begin Matthew’s education.”

  “I plan on home–schooling him.”

  He did not reply. Alyanna felt his eyes gazing at the back of her head. She sighed. “We’re used to living alone,” she said.

  “You are,” said 0800, “but you can’t expect that kind of life for him. He needs interaction.”

  “With Cylebs?”

  “With his brothers.”

  Alyanna laughed under her breath. She yanked the plate out of the rack, and smashed it against the countertop. It fell on the floor in five pieces. She picked them up, and placed them back together like a puzzle. They fit perfectly. 0800 said nothing.

  “I am his mother,” she said, without turning around. “You are not his brothers. I don’t ever want to hear that shit again. I decide what’s best for him.”

  “We did not impregnate you,” 0800 said. “Your father did. We also did not place him in this situation, you did.”

  “And you’re going to save me from myself, is that it?” she asked. She opened a drawer. “Where’s the damn glue? I want to put this back together.”

  The cracks between the shards melted together, and sealed.

  “No,” said Alyanna. She grabbed the plate, and drove it down on the counter top again. Nothing happened. She did it over and over, feeling the shock run up her arm. She turned around, and glared at him. “Stop it,” she said. “I changed my mind. I want it broken.”

  “When you were a child,” he said, “did you go to school?”

  “You know I did.”

  “Did you have friends?” he asked. “Did you lead an isolated life? Or was that your own choice as an adult?”

  “Listen,” she said. “I’m not stupid. I don’t think for one second Matthew’s here for his benefit. He’s here for yours. Yours, Sigma’s, and Jaeger’s.”

  0800 raised his hairless eyebrows. “Were all of your re
lationships one–sided, or were they, in some way, mutually beneficial?”

  She threw the plate onto the floor so hard that it hurt her wrist. It bounced, and flew across the kitchen. 0800 caught it in midair. She glared at him, her breath quick and heavy.

  “Stop it,” she said. “Stop with the Psych. 101 bullshit. I am your prisoner, it’s as simple as that. So, treat me like one. Do not pretend to be my friend; do not pretend to give a shit about my welfare. Do not pretend that I have a choice when we both know I have none. Give me that much respect.”

  0800 exhaled. “As you wish,” he said. “We will begin educating our brother as we see fit. It is up to you if you wish to be a part of that.”

  “Just you,” Alyanna said. “Not Sigma.”

  The Cyleb stood. “Like you said, Mrs. Galbraith, you are a prisoner. Prisoners do not make demands.” He held the plate out to her. “Know when to be the reed that bends in the storm.” She ignored his offering. He placed it in the drying rack, and left.

  Matthew sat on a swing behind his home, a house that was not quite the one he had known. He swung forward, and then fell back, his dangling feet carving lines in the dirt. Bananas sped back and forth through the tall grass, occasionally bounding into the air. She was always so energetic, as if she had a motor driving her. But a motor could be slowed or stopped by pressing something against its shaft. Was some sort of breaking device for Bananas possible? He had had many thoughts like that the past few weeks, about how things worked. For example, his mother had told him not to touch hot pans that came from the oven. But why did they stay hot? Why did the oven’s heat carry over to the pan and food in the first place? It occurred to him that he had not thought about the world like that before.

  Come to think of it, he had never considered his own thinking before, either.

  He twisted the swing’s chains clockwise as far as they would go. The seat was smooth plastic, and felt cool beneath his legs. There were two more swings next to his, although there were no other children to play with. He lifted his legs, and let the swing spin back counter–clockwise. Could a motor be made to spin that way? If it was wound up and let go, would it wind one way, rewind, and then spin in alternate directions forever? The returning spin only lasted two rotations. After a pause, the swing half–heartedly wound clockwise again, and then jerked to a halt. Okay, that did not work, but why not?