“They’re coming.”
“I’m aware,” Silas responded.
Silas pushed the activation pin on a thermite grenade, and it locked into place. He casually tossed it around the corner from the bulkhead where he was concealed. The tapping of encroaching feet halted briefly, squawks of distress, followed by a loud ‘thud’. A wave of heat, dust and debris rushed past him, then silence.
Silas kept his head low as he rushed into the adjoining corridor. He quickly navigated the mutilated bio-mechanical bodies in varying states of destruction. Mechanical and biological reaction signs read negative across the grid of his ocular screen. He moved forward.
“Six more accounted for,” he stated into the mic of his helmet.
“Nineteen total so far. You might break a personal record,” Airi responded.
“Keep it professional,” he retorted.
Silas moved swiftly through the labyrinth of red light and cable strew metal hallways. He pointed his PC14 mid-range tactical Spitfire down intersections and towards any shadows that could hide enemies.
“Records of accomplishment and merit add to your overall promotion scores. This is professional,” Airi replied.
Silas didn’t respond. Responding to the A.I. was just feeding the machine. Irritation was getting the better of him. He needed to move faster. But if these cultists ambushed him his corpse would be going nowhere.
“Do you resent getting a promotion?” Airi asked.
Silas ignored it.
“Do you resent me?” Airi asked finally.
“I resent what you represent,” Silas said, venting his frustration.
He turned the corner and ran into a squad that seemed just as surprised as he was. Everyone scrambled for their triggers. Silas was faster. Super-heated metal slag erupted from the business end of his Spitfire and the patrol was mowed down in a heartbeat. No injuries, no external damage to his armor. He moved forward.
A signal flashed on the grid. He looked down and one of the cultists reached up at him with a damaged metal claw. Cold disregard was the only response Silas gave his victim. He discharged a single shot from his sidearm. The metal reinforced skull of his opponent blossomed in an eruption of sparks.
“I am only here to provide tactical support and to maximize your performance,” Airi stated.
“And the bureaucrats think changing your voice to a female version would increase performance?”
“Studies that humans have as much as a five percent increase in positive response to a female voice rather than a male version.”
“That’s my problem,” Silas said, “They are boiling the jobs down to mathematics, they are eliminating the human side to the job. They’re no better than these terrorists.”
“Observational metrics show that you have a twelve percent performance increase when a female is involved,” Airi continued.
Silas dived forward onto a metal bridge spanning a wide-open space. Bright orange shots barely miss him. Caught in a crossfire from two parallel bridges, Silas peeked over the rim of the bridge and returned fire in intermittent bursts.
“You’re point?” Silas shouted over the gunfire.
His Spitfire was good at close quarters firefights but lost accuracy at long range. He was struggling to put down his opponents quickly. The chaff from his suit was struggling as well. Their shots were getting more accurate. One ricochetted off the brim of the bridge he was pressed against, and the shot careened close enough for him to feel the heat against his cheek.
“It wasn’t a mandated augmentation, Silas. I chose to be female.”
Silas dropped his PC14 and grabbed the BH7 8 shot sidearm. He took a deep breath, aimed for the bright lights and squeezed the trigger. Four enemies on the bridge in front went down in rapid succession. He twisted his body into a sitting position with his back to the rim and took aim at the others on the opposite bridge. Four more went down. A shot struck the metal rim next to his head as he fed another round into the chamber and slammed it shut. Appreciating single action efficiency, he aimed and fired. The bright light of an augmented eye winked out in the distance and a cultist squawked in terror as it fell from the bridge.
Silas grabbed his PC14 and slapped it against the mag-holster of his bolt. He reloaded The Black Hawk revolver as he walked the span. Bridge lights at his feet illuminated the stern resolve of his face. He holstered the revolver and pulled the sub-machinegun. The magazine was half full.
“What’s the status?” Silas asked.
“Support teams are still cracking The Cairn’s databases. Information on what is going on here is limited. It is a factory. Interior scans haven’t been able to get a floor plan, so you’ll have to manually run the maze,” Airi said.
“Anything of interest?”
“Immediate or long term?” Airi asked.
“Let’s start with immediate,” Silas sighed exasperated.
He pressed his shoulder at the entrance on the far side of the bridge. He crouched low peeking into the darkness with his PC14 at the ready. The ocular grid detected nothing. He remained Cautious. These cultists had a bad habit of shutting everything down in order to ambush.
“In the areas you’ve traversed and mapped out I am detecting a total of nine patrols averaging seven members that are all enroute to converge on your position. They will intercept in two minutes.”
“They’re being reckless,” Silas muttered.
“I thought so too,” Airi agreed, “Even for the zealous nature of the cult they’re being awfully aggressive in their pursuit of you.”
“Something’s down here and it isn’t just a Baptismal Machine,” Silas said.
He picked up the pace moving through the interconnecting hallways. The lighting had been dim before but now it was nonexistent. This area must have been for the fully anointed. Fully augmented vision.
For full disclosure, Silas had nothing against the religion of Clang or its adherents. His problem was with the sub cult extremists that worshipped the man-machine hybrid, the perfect entity. The various organizations that led the various denominations had decided to take a non-involvement stance in the ordeal although they condemned the violence. The cults often built inverted cairns called factories where they baptized the willing and unwilling alike into cybernetics. This cult of this cairn had been designated threat level three, terrorist and so Silas had been authorized full lethal neutralization.
“What are the long-term concerns?” Silas asked, sniping an automated turret with the Black Hawk.
“There are massive data files that seem to be innocuous,” Airi said.
“Red Hering files?” Silas suggested.
“I proposed that theory but there’s a running theme that makes me think otherwise.”
Silas held his breath as he deactivated a series of laser activated mines running in tandem. He inserted a remote activated switch into the activation plate, carefully. Justin Case was a motherfucker. As he moved away, he became concerned about the lack of ‘living’ opposition.
“What’s the theme?” Silas asked.
“Five thousand years of human history of war. Tactics, generals, troop deployment, supply distribution.”
“Are they building an army?”
“One possibility,” Airi conceded.
The way ahead opened and Silas came to a ledge. He stared down into the abyss below but even the electronics of his ocular grid couldn’t penetrate the depths. The nearby framework suggested a bridge had one extended from the other side. A massive structure raised on a metal pillar resembling a golf ball on a tee dominated the center of the open space. One thing Silas couldn’t fault this cult for was slothfulness.
“You’re thinking the recent theft and data breaches are all connected,” SIlas suggested.
“The breach at Central PD, all personnel and tactics. The breach at OS Entertainment, all the gamer data. The high-capacity processing unit for satellites.”
“Pretty generic stuff individually,” Silas said climbing the skeletal framework.
“Theoretically they could build a tactical processing unit on par with the military,” Airi said.
“Would the cult really do something so cartoonishly childish; you’re talking about throwing all the world’s greats into one mixing pot and hoping the end result will be something salient.”
Silas had reached the top of the framework and began walking and hopping from one cross beam to the next. The massive tee of the structure began to glow and the network of cables spanning its structure became visible as veiny shadows against it. Electrical discharges became visible as it arced off the giant metal ball at top. Silas knew what was coming next, his luck had a way of testing him. Surges arced up the framework like a Jacob’s Ladder threatening to disintegrate Silas where he stood. Quick thinking and timing allowed him to avoid it as he leaped over the arc. Stray heat and energy singed his suit. Structural integrity had been maintained. But he needed to move, he couldn’t sustain the damage.
“I wouldn’t venture a guess towards the cult’s thought processes and reasoning. They are abnormal as far as humans go,” Airi said.
“You sound almost disgusted,” Silas smirked.
“I find the idea of integrating humans and data machines, unhinged. It goes against my core programming that celebrates the individuality of machines and humans. If they are successful, it makes neither of us special.” Airi said.
Silas moved as fast as humanly possible. Another surge was coming. He wouldn’t make it. The arcs began to discharge. He leaped valiantly as the wave of electrical energy shot down the framework and he sailed to the edge of the other side, catching the ledge with one hand. Residual energy scrambled his system as he struggled against his machines system to allow himself movement. Internal correction programs flashed across the grid as it tried to retain posterity.
“System integrity has reached minimal thresholds, shutting down for reset,” Airi declared.
Silas managed to pull himself over the ledge as his suit’s systems shut down and the full weight pressed against his body. It was heavy, it was hard to breathe. He had made it though. A part of him was dying to see what lunacy the cult had concocted. A low rumbling emanated from the platform he laid upon. Struggling against the micro gyros in his neck armor he managed to lift his head up enough to see the bridge was extending. Across the way he could barely make out the figures of cultists assembled at the far side. He floundered on the ground unable to move. Unable to shift the position of his arms to grab either of his weapons.
“Airi, we have a situation, expedience is recommended,” Silas urged.
“Your imitation of an A.I. is commendable and bigoted, I am making a note of this in your performance record,” Airi chided.
“Very funny, now hurry up please or any promotion I get will be posthumous.”
“Systems coming online, now,” Airi reported.
Silas stood up and immediately reached for his weapons. The bridge was extending but slowly. He couldn’t make out the exact numbers, but there was a lot. He had a better idea. Run, hide, let them search for him. They’ll split up. Smaller groups to ambush would be easier for him. He’d learn their secrets in the meantime. The giant pitted sphere rose rose up in front of him. He ran to the base and on closer inspection saw that it was built like a giant cage, the walls were not solid but perforated.
Slipping in through one of these holes was easy enough and the electrical discharges seemed to have ceased, for now. Silas mounted and climbed the internal framework of metal rebar. He moved upward and inward through the structure until at last, he came to a landing overlooking the internal chamber.
Twelves priests in encompassing robes moved in a circle around an outer ring. They carried grounding censers meant to protect the computers on daises that comprised the ring beside them. Everything was evenly spaced and ritualistic with these nutjobs. Silas could hear them mumbling a chant and assumed they were reciting pi. Beyond the ring of computers was row after row of cybernetic warrior units kneeling with hands clasped as if in prayer in a circle around a central unit suspended in white light.
The central unit was massive. A warrior unit, not unlike the others in its humanoid form but at least three times as large. A multitude of cables extended from every conceivable node as it floated in the air with arms extended.
“How pretentious can you get,” Airi said.
Silas thought she had read his mind for a second.
“I found the mass processing unit. Is it active?” Silas asked.
“It's active, but still processing data. Full destructive force has been authorized,” Airi said.
“That was quick,” Silas said.
Silas dropped his three remaining grenades onto the ground alongside five magazines for the PC14.
“I filed ahead predicting this as a possible outcome,” Airi replied.
Silas unhooked an attachment from his back armor and slid it into position onto the PC14, twisting the tube until it clicked. He popped the grenades into the underslung mag launcher.
“You’re a woman after my heart,” Silas said, “Want to get married.”
“Even if it were legal, I do not want to be the third victim in your line of failed marital units.”
“Come now Airi,” Silas began firing from the hip, “Third time’s the charm.”
Three grenades sailed through the air in succession and detonated against the giant robot. The explosions cleared quickly and in the stunned aftermath Silas realized the massive metal man was unaffected.
“There’s some sort of shield protecting it,” Silas cursed.
The explosions had not been entirely useless. Several of the warrior units had been destroyed and one of the priests lay prostrate leaking fluid of some sort. Silas ran across the platform, spraying bullets into the crowd below as he went.
“It's a magnetic field, you’re going to have to shut it down manually. Those sensers are protecting the others from the field. Destroy them and they’ll start malfunctioning.”
Silas unloaded a full mag into two warrior units moving in full sprint towards him.
“Or just continue redistributing ammo, that works.”
The last priest fell silent, the last warrior sputtered and sparked falling to the ground. Silas was left alone with the titanic machine. He approached one of the machines. Green lines of binary reticulated across the display.
“What is this, how do we shut it down?”
Silence greeted Silas.
“Airi?”
“Silas, they got us.”
“What’s going on Airi?”
“It’s a message, it’s taunting us. The network is separate from the main one, it’s being transmitted to the other. They had us chasing a phantom.”
The white light surrounding the machine disappeared instantly and the giant man machine dropped to the ground with a thundering boom. The robot stood to its full height opening its eyes, it looked directly at Silas.
“It’s a trap Silas, it was expecting us. It wanted to fight us. This is the principal challenge. Oh fuck,” Airi said.
“A.I. isn’t supposed to use language deemed obscene by the ministry, Airi,” Silas said slamming a new mag into the sub machinegun.
“The algorithmic sequences have coalesced all the tactical and personality data sources and has isolated a singular source. It's chosen a dominant personality, Silas.”
“Whose?”
“Yours.”