Prologue

As I bring the flame towards my last roll-up, I catch my reflection in a puddle of liquid on the ground.  Older.  I look older, but more than look it, I feel it.  I hover between twenty four and twenty five yearly cycles, but I feel as if I have been here on Earth since it began.  I can picture myself roaming this desolate place at a time when the thing called the Black Death tore through the old world, or when the histories tell us that humans gained the short lived capability to explore the above space.  I can smell the air from these ancient times and I know that it was as stale then as it is now in this dark underground world.  Sucking the burning smoke from my rollie, I can physically feel the distance between myself here in the present and my ancestors in the past.  I can sense that doom has been spelled out for us since the beginning.  At the least, it is series of events that I do not have to blame myself for.

Flicking my smoke into the liquid before me, my colorless hair blurs out my features as my reflection ripples into distortion.  In this fashion I look no different from the Mach-men roaming above.  Cold, steel eyed, emotionless, and only reminiscently human; I forget who is imitating who.  I have been tutored in this way of blending in and reflecting amongst the society of mechanical men above us.  In a few short steps, I will go through the passage that has been frequented by the many before me.  Like the forgotten elders, I will the infiltrate our lost world to save the one we barely hang on to.

I place one of the artificial caps over my right eye and blink a few times to make sure it is in place.  I can’t believe I had forgotten them up to this point.  I am getting lazy in my old days.  I finish off my left eye and realize that I am going to have to sit down and let the fluid dry that is coming out of my eyes before I take the corridor out and up to the surface.  Tears would be as big a give away as anything.  The idea of truly being discovered brings a thrill back into my spirit and it causes my senses to sharpen.  The most we know of what happens to those of us who have been caught in the up world are rumor at most.  I am curious, but not eager to know their fates.  I will join them all someday.  Retirement is seen by few of us who routinely make this journey.

Hopefully I will be able to knick a few packets of the Mach-men’s proper cigarettes, instead of choking down these horrible lamp grown self mades.  I am not shy to taking a little extra risk for a higher personal benefit.  The whole purpose of these little visits is to make life easier on us below, and if I am the one making these high risk trips, I will always make sure the primary goal is to make under life easier on me.  Cigs, techno, fashion, tunes, anything and everything is on the shopping block when I am in charge.

Giving myself more time than necessary, my face is dry and I am ready to surface.  I hitch my foot at the bottom of the ladder and take one last deep breath, exhaling my fears and excitement.  It is time to leave all emotion behind.  I grasp rung after rung as I make my way upward from the dark in a Repetitive movement, transforming my last human thoughts and reactions into those of the Machine men.  Rising, I feel my metamorphosis in its final stages.  I become swift, calm, and utterly thoughtless.  I am but a reflection in a puddle.  I am a Replica.

One

Great.  I nicked myself on the chin having a shave. I am properly grounded for at least a week.  It doesn’t look too bad, but I would be a fool to try to pass it off.  These Mach-men have an intense eye for detail.  So I am postponed a little, I have enough to get me through several lifetimes in this cesspool.  A little set back like this is no trouble at all.  There is no alternative to me making this trip, so everyone will just have to wait.  It’s not like there is a water shortage, not in this damp maze of an existence.  Batteries, seeds, soil, bulbs, tools, new devices, material; It’s quite a surprise I don’t get caught making these large scale excursions.  These Mach-men have few weaknesses, but consumption is one of them.  They thoroughly enjoy their drink and smoke, recreation, art, and all of the other fine things they have the privilege to experience in the above.  I can’t say I don’t enjoy it myself.  At first it was the risk that kept me into it, but now it is so much more.  I feel involved in a much different way up there.  I am free in the world of the Machine people.  I have a great deal of responsibilities to the beings in the under world of humans, but above I am no one.  I mean nothing.  My existence is of zero importance.  I have no responsibilities of any from.  Well, outside of not getting caught and turned into fertilizer, that is.

I’ve learned to work the system down here rather well.  My position brings me some kind of low level status, at least with the beings of my age.  The young fems really go for a mate who has some clout, whether it be Mach-music or certain kind of outfit, but they especially go for the cigs and drink.  And why not?  Our so-called superiors above do it all the time.  Who would we be not wanting the finer things in life?  When I flash up in my newest gear and head down to be social, I always have a splash and a few packets under each arm, and on my way out they’re replaced by two or a few well looking XX chromes.  That’s just the way it plays.

‘Oy, Eye, you gonna look at yourself ‘til you’re gray?’

‘Ah, I gave myself a cut.  I potted the whole month’s agenda on a quick slip.’

‘Think you’ll be hearing it ‘til the next go then?’

‘Nah, they know better than that.  Unless they find another fit with the cheeky bones and build, they’ll just have to suffer through my short comings.’

‘You know we have a surgeon to do that for you.’

‘Yeah, I just felt like being independent for a bit.’

‘Mate, you’re snapping a bit lately.  Gone stir crazy like the rest of us.’

‘You know Mouth, for being the info-man; you’ve got it all wrong.  I’m stirred all right, but not like you lot.’

‘Sure thing.  I’m gonna go and tell the up and ups.  You’re lucky to have a friend like me.’

And I am lucky to have Mouth here.  Not only is he my news center, but he is the only one I can have a laugh with.  Everyone down here is bent on getting life over with.  A lot of them do just that too.  People still fear the Machs, as if they might storm down here and finish us all off for good.  It will never happen, its just paranoia.  There’s nothing here worth destroying, even us.  There hasn’t been any purpose for interest in us since before my second father’s second father.  One hundred or so cycles have passed since anyone down here put up enough of a fuss to call the attention of the Machs.  Even then I am sure they were just curious.  They let us have the under, they get the above.  It makes no proper sense, but that’s just the way it’s been and will be.  We use all the artificial techno to survive down here, while all the things we need are freely on display above, serving only as eye candy and amusement for the Machines.  It only makes sense to the few who have gotten to do my job, and even then, it is still wasted on most.

I finally take a step back from my image and sit back on my large rester.  Another string of outs and abouts to look forward to.  Not that I need it, but need is such a loose term in this terrain.  Gals and drinks are the only two things I really give a second thought to down here, at least in the positive sense.  There’s plenty on the negative side to keep my central path flooded.

I fight the urge to crack the joints on my fingers as I stretch my arms behind my head and sigh.  I was looking forward to getting to the top tomorrow, but I am going to have to learn this shaving business on my own anyhow.  Better get the cuts down here in practice rather than up top.  The thing I miss the most down here is the big blue; that and the space, all the open space I could ever imagine.  The first time I made the trip I was handed off by an old visitor and he had to give me a hard relaxer just so I’d stop making the head spins.  I almost got us both topped.  That was a great time.  Old Lancer, he was the general.  He’d been going up twelve seasons before he disappeared.  People say what can happen to a Rep is a tragedy.  Not me.

Lancer had it.  I have it.  There are others, but most don’t have the gut, or they crack up top.  Perfect cheek bones, perfect height, weight, build, hairline; not to mention the right mental profile, emotional history and lack of family connections.  A lot of these things get modified, but the surgeons have to have the right building blocks.  I wanted to be a visitor since the beginning of my days.  My first memories are even of wanting to get out of this place.  People say destiny.  I say determination.  Maybe it’s both.

I continue to compare the ceiling of my habitat with that of the Machine worlds, as if there is any comparison at all.  I can easily recall their wide open blue, with its random patches of white strewn about.  If I close my eyes hard enough I can feel the heat coming from the great gleaming globe above, renewing my senses.  If only I could let myself feel these things in the up world instead of working them out as fantasies while giving the hard look at my dingy mold colored walls six lengths above my face in this creepy underworld.

I can’t let myself go all soft when there is real work to be done.  First I’ll have a look at my wardrobe and dust off some of the newest latest.  Then I’ll dig into my lock box and rustle up few packs and pours to show off with down at the social scene.  I’ll fancy up, throw on a new scent and off I’ll go.  There aren’t many options for a character like me.  I am welcome in the more uppity of places down here, but I don’t like to cross hairs with the big wigs off hours.  I need a place geared more towards what an up and comer like my needs; fast females, quick drink and slight potential for actual intrigue.

I like to keep an eye on some of my former XX’s from time to time.  Feena, my one time constant, works serving swill down in the arena called The Basement.  It’s a good place for me to try to pick up on the newly pubic and if all else fails I can always try to rustle up Feen.  If not there, I’ll make my way to the poorer areas; maybe bring a tinge of excitement to some young long hair, thinking if she’s with an upper-upper that she might get to move on someday.  I like to spread hope amongst other things.

When worse comes to worse, I will pop in on the gents in the crusty club, if only to break up the monotony.  The big trouble with the geezers is that it’s always yap yap yap with them.  Those politico types are always asking for my opinions on things I’d rather not think about.  At least the low girls I take up with have the decency to ask me simple questions.

I grab a pair of turbo walkies and put my hair in the upmost.  Puckering to my own reflect, I know I look flash and that tonight I must go to The Basement.  Feena and I didn’t leave on the bestest of terms, but they weren’t too tragic either.  My sacrifices award me all kinds of privileges and I would be a fool to waste them, even on the tender feeling.  The tender feeling can cost a Rep like me his life.  I don’t need any more worries on the up top.  If I go, I go and that’s that.  Plus, I like the lifestyle too much turn my back to it.  I am like a king to these people, only better.  They don’t have to give me the things I want, they just do.  These poor dwellies will pry me with a months worth of drink just to hear me prattle on about the old neon golden and what it is like in the sky.  The fems, however, have much better bartering tools and they don’t often ask for stories.  The thing that pulls me back to my dear old Josephina is that she knows and respects all of this.  Too good for her own good, I always say.

The Basement is on tonight.  Packed to the brim and as full as a fish bowl of sharks.  I know that I made the right choice in coming here.  This eve was not meant for slumming.  It’s easy to run into the same peeps time after time, but once in a while I pull some luck and there are some out of townies.  These townies are rare and exotic.  I particularly like the challenge they pose to me.  Being from a different pit, they have no knowledge of my standing and have to be educated.  I am not the bragging kind, but my reputation always surrounds me.  It’s too packed up to tell now, but my sights are set on something fresh.  I scuzi scuzi my way over to the serving slab and see that Feen is not in attendance.  Giving a wink and nod to Joffy the keep, he knows exactly what I want.  I like to keep a private stock anywhere I frequent.  It makes things more comfortable for me as well as tipping off strangers of my class.

‘Ey there Joff, how’s the biz tonight,’ I say.

‘Oh, it’s quite well as you can see.  How would you like your stock?’

‘Throw it over some cubes and that’ll be fine.’

‘Sure thing.’  I give the old man a big smile.  He might be one of the few people around here that can manage a sincere smile.  I have trouble myself.  The only time I feel good is when I am up and out of this hole, but a smile there can cost me my entirety.  Especially when I am making some many extra rounds for myself.  Old Lancer taught me that.  Wise he was.  Too bad he cracked.  Lance pushed too hard and went above too far into his cycles.  They got him.  It happens to a lot of them.  I should say it happens to a lot of us.

I spot of few fems with the right kinds of features, but I’ll wait until they take notice of me first.  People are quick to spot a Replica.  The Machs are another story.  Maybe it’s years of living without us, but I am not perfect in their way.  I have trouble regulating my breathing enough, let alone fear of breaking sweat.  The Machs usually just go about their way without talking to each other at all.  I’ve taken so many cycles of Mach-talk that I wish I would have the chance to spring a little on them.  I make my orders, they ask no questions and that’s it.  They lack a certain curiosity in the business of others that we humans still hold onto.  It looks like curiosity has finally taken a hold of the XX’s I’ve been waiting for.  I take my drink from the Joffer and e2-e4 over to the ladies.

‘Hello operator,’ one girl says.  With this phrase I can immediately pinpoint them as being visitors from Adnama.  Not too bad on the looks though.  I’ve had a time or too with their type.

‘And hello to you,’ I smile gently.  ‘Far ways off from the dark soil of Adnama aren’t we?’

‘How did you know we’re Adnamanians?’

‘Oh, it’s my job to know a little but of everything.’

‘Well you’re obviously a Rep.  See, you aren’t the only keen observer here,’ the bluntest one of the crowd fires at me.

‘You’re too good,’ I say, shaking my finger at her as if she earned a treat.

‘We can have a dance, or we can have a chat.’  I open my arms wide showcasing the Basement’s dance floor.  ‘If you want to talk, we can go back to my compact…but this place is made for dancing.’  I grab the greatest in the bunch and take her to the dance floor.  We are packed up like rations in a tin box, but we manage to make enough space to shimmy and twist.  Mach-music blares as I try to get in this gal’s personal space.  I try to make myself nervous or force the possibility of failure to the front of my mind, but I am just not built that way.  That’s part of how I got the job, though I never applied for it.

These government scientists could tell I was made for my work from the time I was seven years old and had made the change.  During my last school physical I was simply whisked away.  Orphan’s life doesn’t mean much to them.  It didn’t mean much to me either.  I’m sure I would have ended up swinging from a rope like everyone else.  I still have the one my folks did themselves in with.  We don’t waste anything down here and a hanging rope is a popular heirloom.  It’s that or the far caves.  Luckily I was offered the third option; a view of the above.

Men and women alike are offered this post.  It is not often that there is more than one of us in a village.  It’s no easy criteria to fill.  I am heading into my third cycle as a visitor and I miss it already.  I shouldn’t have nicked myself.  I just felt like having an old lash out at the up and ups.  I knew there was nothing they could do about it.  Three cycles.  Average is about eight.  Some even make it to ten.  Lancer went up for his twelfth when he pulled the never come back.  I grow bored with the lack of attention I give these fems.  Being dual is part of my make-up.  I move in to speak.

‘I think maybe it is time for that conversation.’  She smiles at me and asks if she can bring her friends.  I like her enthusiasm.

‘But of course.’

Back in my compact (which is much larger than the average.  Calling it a compact is a bit of a stretch) the girls and I don’t waste time in getting down to our gimmicks.  Immediately I am struck with a sincere feeling of dread.  I can’t fathom why I sacrificed even a single chance at going above for this tired routine.  Sure, there is curiosity at first; the flirtation, the baiting, but it all leads here and to the business.  I have to see it through; otherwise it would truly be a waste.  I pick up the telly and give Mouth a ring.

‘Oy, Mouth.  I’ve got a couple of easy pieces down here.  C’mon over and get a little bite.’  He Replies swiftly and I know his knock will come in no time.  Mouth doesn’t get the privileges a Rep does.  He doesn’t risk much either, but his sacrifices are equal to mine.  Being communications for this grand wheel is no small feat.  He’s got to keep me in line, them in line, and the lines between us open and working.  Taking someone like me and mixing in bureaucrats is dangerous; it’s up to Mouth to keep it civil.  I was happy enough that he was available.  These knock ups are going to mind me throwing another into the mix, and if they do, so be it.

‘This is so super flash Mr. Eye.’

‘Keep calling me Mr. and you’ll be out as quick as you came.’

‘I didn’t come yet,’ the bigger one says.  Cheeky gals get me every time.  I have to give them a little attitude about their odd dialects.  It keeps me interested.  I step in her direction and then take a big step back.  She smiles and then laughs.  I take her friend and toss her over on the bed.

‘Why don’t you go to her and show me what you two do to avoid the rope.’  She complies and they enter being their Sapphic gesturing.  I open a cabinet and take out a fresh pack of rollies, gently hitting it against my wrist as they begin to undress.  I pull up my comfy chair and light my ciggy.  I perk up as Mouth knocks on the door.  Swinging it open for him, he sees the show in progress.  He pulls up a chair next to mine as he takes the smoke I hold out for him.

These girls are going to need us.  They go through the ritual, but it doesn’t seem likely that they truly enjoy being with each other.  That sums up a lot of what life is like down here; going through the ritual without really enjoying it.  Going up top is the one true thing I enjoy.  I’ve known how much it means to me, but it has always seemed more like a responsibility.  At nineteen, I no longer have a fear of death so it is not just the daredevil rush I get from walking with the Machs.  They have everything I want there and I am not talking of the smoke and drink, not even the techno and tune; they have the sun and air, bodies of water and space to live.  Once this cut heals I am getting up there as soon as I can.  It’s just a nick and the can cover it up.  Maybe by weeks end.  Realizing how far from the moment I am and turn to Mouth.

‘Why don’t you get in there, I’m a little tired,’ I tell him.  ‘Girls, this is Mouth.  He’ll show you how he got his namesake.’  I roll my chair into my side study and put on my ear pieces.  Picking out the latest Vibro Deluxe file, I turn the volume up enough to cover the noises from the other room.  I fill with euphoria as Vibro chain’s reaction of rhythm penetrates me.  At first the staccato strings pulse through my bloodstream, making each of all my hairs rise to stand.  When the rumbling of the low frequency joins in I heighten in anticipation of what it to come.  This is a Jesher Ellion piece of music and I know his style as if it were my own.  The Repetition of the strings starts to break apart into twinkling as if a star burst.  A million little pieces of sound cover me.  This is the best I can feel down here.

Now I am in the mood for body play.  I enter the room standing like a king over his three servants.  Jesher Ellion has given me my equanimity back.

Two

The fems are well asleep as I sit across from Mouth, who looks more exhausted than I’ve ever seen him.  He notices my stare.

‘I’m not getting any younger.’

‘But they are,’ I say motioning to the lifeless Adnamanians.  Mouth lets out a little chuckle.  Spending so much of my time under the scrutiny, I seldom allow myself the simple pleasure of a chuckle.  Part of me is afraid I can’t remember how to even do it.

Mouth changes the subject before I can.  ‘It seems the want you to pick up some new fert.  Something that Machs have been tinkering with.  ‘Sposed to make things grow quicker or larger.  I’m not sure.  Very tight, the reporting on that one was.  There were none too pleased about you shaving though.’

‘Like I said, they can just sit until I’m ready.’

‘You’re not the one their giving the loudmouth too.’

I temporarily feel a pain somewhere in my thoughts about putting Mouth threw any more tough time than he already gets.  Caring is refreshing.

‘Ah, they’ll get over it.  I’m sure they ain’t got another like me.’

‘At least you’re right about that.  New boy snapped.  Couldn’t handle the psych.’

‘How old?’

‘Seven cycles.’

‘Sacred blue, that’s tiny.’

‘They’re trying to speed things up, doing stuff to babes they wouldn’t have before.  Things they didn’t force on you sprouted.’

Again, Mouth’s words have touched that spot I keep quiet.  I know through my moral lessons that it’s wrong to harm a child, but at he same time I really do not care.  I like my tunes, a drinky, a good cig, a roll with some flesh, and getting as close to the sun as possible.  Besides that, maybe a little chat with Mouth, though certainly not when he’s giving me the wire trips on bad news.

‘Have any bright lights?’ I ask.

‘Nothing as bright as the big bulb in the blue.’

‘Nothing’s that bright, Mouthy.  I’m talking small shop.’  Big news or small news, it is seldom uplifting.  Not when it deals with below.

Mouth gives his hairline a scratch and moves his free hand to the bare hip of the large sleeping femmy.  He lets out a heavy breath and stares at the exposed flesh tangled on my sleeper.  ‘I can’t think of a single damned thing that might be considered bright.’

Mouth’s downward gaze disturbs me again.  I thought this nick on my chinny chin chin would lead me to a little reprieve.  Why was I so foolish to think that staying down here an extra couple of weeks would be a good thing.  I know the routes, the codes, and the signals.  I might as well just go up top to be there, blasted for it or not.  A quick death dealt from a mechanical hand seems brighter than any light I can see down here.  To shit with Mouth for making me low.

‘Sadness, sadness all around.  We’ll find sunshine underground,’ I sing.  Mouth turns the corners of his namesake upward at my tuneful delivery of our familiar nursing rhyme.

‘You caught me glummed up.  Shame on me.’  Mouth shakes his head.  ‘I best make back to the comp.  Shell will be to happy to wake with me gone.’

‘Married life.’

‘Buried life.’

‘At least she lets you out and about.’

‘I’d prefer she wanted me around.’

‘Oy, Eye, are you trying to send us both up the rope?  Get out of here, you’re turning me blue.  I thought a little slap and slither would perk you up.’

Mouth nods.  ‘It did mate.  It did.’  Mouth stands up and hits me playfully on the thigh.  ‘Be seeing you then.’

On Mouths departure, I feel the sudden urge to be alone.  Completely alone.

‘Alright dirt farmers, time to punch out and make off,’ I say in a stern voice.  The girls stir a little, but I repeat myself for good measure.

‘What? What are you doing?’ my favorite says.

‘I have important business to conduct and high up will have my face off if they find a couple of slatters down here.’

‘I’m no slat,’ the large one says, looking right at me.

‘We have nowhere to go,’ the other whines.

‘Well,’ I say.  ‘You better start heading in nowhere’s direction.’

The chickys gather up their meager belongings and sour face out of my compact.  I light a roll up and take Jesher out of the Vibro, replacing him with Bahnmaltak, a more soothing Mach music maker.  I let the sound pour out of the speakers I’ve lined my space with.  It sounds much better in the ear phones, but I don’t feel like having anything else wrapped around my head tonight.

Potting a whole months work up.  I should be ashamed, but with Mouth and the other dirt breathers gone I forget what shame is and drift off into dream with Bahnmaltak’s wisps of sound wrapping around me like a blanket.

The dream is a similar one.  Lights too bright, eyes burning, being discovered, and then being destroyed.  I’m fully aware of the fantasy as it happens, but nothing I do can control it.  It doesn’t even startle me anymore.  I miss the times where my own destruction riled me up, but the light stays to bright to every really make out what is happening.  It starts at some point and then it ends.

I wake up, noticing the Vibro-D player has shut itself off.  Sometimes a good sleep listen can inspire a slightly more vivid dream, but it didn’t tonight.  I roll over and adjust my bed heat to the maximum.  I don’t just want to see the blinding light of the great beauty.  I want to feel it.

The dream I enter into is quite different than my typical.  I seem to be able to control myself, though I’m not sure if the sensation is because I think it to be or actually is.  I’m below, making my usual rounds.  Nothing seems out of the ordinary and boredom begins to creep into this reverie as well.  Having the resource to know I’m not in reality, I begin smashing things around me; pushing people, even the little ones, hitting them, and kick as hard as I can.  I can see myself smiling.  Not my charming smirk, but really smiling.  And I can feel it!  It’s amazing.  The harder I kick, punch, pull, and strike, the better I feel.  My heart feels like I’m getting an electro treatment, but I can’t stop. I see my reflection and I’m not even human anymore.  I’m just a pile of metal with smiling jagged teeth like nails.

Feeling more of a thrill than I did with either Jesher or the Adnamanians, I awake with the instant need to breath smoke.

My waking regiment is something I’ve grown to look forward to over the years.  It’s not the individual parts of the routine that give me solace, but knowing that once the morning is over I will be free of responsibilities.  I start off with a healthy dose of goo mixed in with grains and flavored oats.  It’s a fairly tasteless meal, but it will keep me in tip top shape.  I can’t go getting bulgy around the belt line like the big boy bosses who bark my orders.  They wouldn’t have any of that.  Keeping myself trim and proper is all part of being a Replica.  Perfect physique has been part of the Mach design since the flagship models, at least that’s the word passed down.

I step out the front of my compact and grab the morning newsprint.  I’m slightly disappointed that it’s only the public read out.  I was hoping for a slight reprimand from the higher ups, but no such luck.  A little threatening on their part would have sparked my blood a bit.  Now I’m stuck reading the general papes while the goo and grains settle in.

A fem had three birthings at once and they all survived.  This is the front and center news they want us to suck up.  I’m not keen to nibble at their human interest stories.  Cold hell, three young ones just means less for the rest of us and three more likely to succumb to the rope, the bottle, or end up in the batty caves.  In fact, this might be the worst bleeding news I’ve heard in months.  I flip the pape over to take a look at the green house tidings.  I prefer something concrete and without opinion.

As my good old g & g starts to settles, I slide over to the fridge-freezer and open myself a bottle of the crystal clear.  My grub may have its limitations, but I am allowed as much aqua as I can drink.  Even beyond that really because I can’t ever drink all of what I have on hand.  Another perk for me risking death, evaporation, and torture for the better of the masses.  And now there’s three more of them that need me.  Bonus.

I do a good bit of limbering up and head over to my rowing boat that takes me nowhere.  Occasionally I’ll flip in the Vibro and play a little something during my routine, but most of the time I enjoy the solace of hearing my own breath.  I start off evenly, pushing my legs and pulling with my arms.  My sweatwork unifies my mind and body together.  My focus is sharp.  I build the momentum, pushing and pulling more quickly until I am near my maximum speed.  Most dwellers beatbox would explode doing what I’m doing.  I feel the burn of push and pull deep in my muscles, but it does nothing to effect their performance.  Not for one second does my breathing betray my exertion.  To an outsider, it would appear as if I wasn’t even human.  This, of course, is no accident.

The Machs don’t need to breath, but someone along the line thought it would be a good idea to have them make some of the motions anyway.  It was one of the many stupid decisions that lead us down here in the first place, though certainly not the worst.  My job is to help maintain the standard of living, making only small improvements when there is room for them.  It’s a joke most of the time.

I take my motion to a pace that my arms are blurred in their movement.

Standard of living.  It’s a laugh.  I wouldn’t even call it a standard for dying.  My sneaky little missions move my blood.  Without them I might dangle in months.  Oddly, the rowing boat and the motions I make have me feeling like a bit of machine myself.  They get the Earth and we get the dirt.  If anyone who gave me orders had real sand, they’d send us all up at once and pray for a quick death or a sunny victory.  That would be the way I’d have it if I passed out the papes.  No more of this clutching and clawing to get by.  I don’t want to get by any more.  I want to get away.

The timer on the boat is beeping, giving me the signal to reduce my movement.  The exhilaration from my regiment brings me angry thoughts.  There aren’t many times I’m allowed to drift off into questioning every single thing around me.  Things aren’t good.  I know that.  But they aren’t good for everyone else.  Things for me are top notch.  I prove this to myself by drinking what would be a weeks worth of water rations to anyone outside of the Unit.  Drinking only enough to survive and getting a wash only when there block is assigned to isn’t anything I questioned before the fresh air of the surface.

I am trained to be tolerant.  I also trained to notice every little detail I can perceive.  The first few times I made it up to Earth I was repulsed by the smell.  I laugh thinking about it now.  It’s down here that reeks of death and stale living.  The smell up top is empty.  Taking it in to my lungs feels like little molecules are cleaning my insides.  Coming back down here feels more like someone having a shite right in my nose.  The drinky and cigs help take care of that.

The end of my regiment has me pushing up and down on the ground one hundred times.  Each movement I make is perfect.  I can remember as a tiny man that this was taxing, but it’s a very fuzzy memory much like any of the ones I have about being young.  The thought of a cig always enters my mind around this time.  A quick pull on the limbs to loosen them and then back to the papes, though I have no mind to continue them today.

I enjoy the reading much more when there is something personal in it for me.  A direct order is clean and precise, but sometimes the Unit will be a little friendly and share about a communication with other branches around the undergrounds. It’s not often, but always welcome.  Good news or bad, anything interesting makes things better.

Moving back towards my living area, I grab the pape out of my eating space and plop down on my rocking relaxer near the bed.  Kicking off my turbos, I wiggle my toes with a satisfying sense of accomplishment.  Only a workout like mine makes wasting the rest of the day feel so delightful.  That’s probably why I look forward to it so much.

I managed to fend it off for this long, but now Mouth’s depressing antics last night have swarmed back into my head.  Everyone gets the gloomies.  It’s to be expected when it happens to normal people.  When it happens to a member like Mouth, it strikes closer to the vest than I’d like.  Mouth wasn’t trained like I was, but he went through a lot of the same things I did.  Personality tests, physical tests, the randomizer, morality drills, and compassion analysis.  That last one is the big difference between a Mouth and an Eye.

Mouth has to have compassion.  In part, it is his specialty.  A Rep is tested for a strong sense of duty, but compassion isn’t something they want out of us.  Really it’s just a word to me.  I don’t know if I even have a feeling to assign to it.  I know I am to follow orders.  My early beatings and training drilled that into me, but caring why I did them isn’t a concern.  I know that I am a tool.  I just happen to be a tool who has seen things even most of the generals never have.

I’ve stood in the middle of a green fields, watching the skies turn grey and the trees sway while water poured out of the sky.  I thought the Machs might explode, but they looked at it the same way I did: with grateful wonder.  I’ve seen living things fly through the sky as if they had no other choice and gravity forced them up instead of down.  The only time I’ve ever even seen a rat down here was at the chancellors ball when I was sworn in.  It looked nothing like the beauty I saw in the sky.  A tool I may be, but there is no way that the Unit gets out of me what I get out of surfacing.  Not if I made them a million trips.

‘Why did you deem it necessary to shave your own face, Eye,’ El-tee Masters asks me.

‘It itched,’ I say.

‘You were scheduled to leave today.  Your delay has upset the Unit greatly and we are penalizing you a months wages.’

I stare at fat El-tee Masters in silence.  His fleshy bald head turns an amusing shade of red upon reprimanding me.  He hates his job.  Most politico types do.  Masters seems to enjoy the bite more than anything else.  A small perk like extra grub can make the difference between life and death here.

Masters has grown bored of my dead eyes.  ‘You could have waited the day, Eye.  Everyone needs a little bit of rebellion and I understand that, but the Unit is not who you want to take it out on.’  Masters squints his eyes, as if I will take him more seriously this way.  ‘They’ll pull a Rep.  Don’t think they won’t.  They call one up from Olba or Adnama if they have to.  Just because you’re the only Rep in Tria don’t mean your irreplaceable.’

Ah, the threat.  It actually brings a little blood to my brain.  I’ve never heard of the Unit doing anything of the sort, yet it is plausible enough to touch my imagination, something that seldom happens.

‘It won’t happen again.’

‘See to that,’ Masters says, getting up from the rester and straightening his uniform.  He gives me a sympathic look and I find myself speaking again.

‘It itched,’ I say.

El-tee Masters smiles at me and slowly nods his head before exiting my compact.  Masters is an easy sell.  I get a thrill from ruffling a feather or two, but I have to send him back with a report of remorse.  The smile and nod let me know there will be no trouble from this incident.  I am remorseful, but for my own reasons.  The Unit can bite from my waste.  After hearing about that seven year old who snapped, they can swallow all the shit I can make.  News like that makes me want to turn my coat and breadcrumb trail the entire Mach area underground to vaporize every last one of us.

I lashed out and I’ve been punished for it, ever so slightly.  A months wages is a joke.  I barely dip into my creds as it is.  They aren’t needed.  I steal the best of what I need from the Machs, I pour my own stock, and even this compact is courtesy of the U.  I’m happy they sent someone to slap me on the wrists. It satisfied my urge to check if anyone cares what I do.

This is the perfect opportunity for me to flash up at the gents club.  The proper propers can give me the head spins with their chatter, but a show of face will coincide with Masters report of my remorse.  If I would have actually said that I was sorry, that could have been even worse.  No one wants a Rep with that much feeling.  The smarter of the Unit see through every move I have or ever could make, but that’s their job.  And this is mine.

Three

Brooks and Martin Gentlemen’s Club offers the best of what’s left for Unit members, bureaucrats, growers, and anyone else clever enough to leverage themselves into a position of power.  The walls are paneled with a cherry tainted wood and adorned with paintings of our past leaders, the large resters and loungers are covered in synthetic hide, and the barkeep wears a black & white outfit as he dishes out drink and smoke to the mostly grey-haired crowd.  Every detail in Brooks and Martin’s tells it’s patrons that they are indeed not only civilized men, but also better than the rest of the population.

The tunes in here can be quite miserable.  These old timers don’t let one bit of Mach tech through the doors.  It’s in direct contradiction to wanting only the best of everything considering some peasants can afford a bootleg Vibro and some waves.  These gents only seem to want the best of what humanity has to offer.  That’s probably why everything in Brooks and Martin’s is at least two hundred cycles old.

I saunter into the sitting room, quickly scanning the other members to assess who will give me the least dreadful conversation. My best bet is chatting up Potter the barkeep, but he won’t speak freely with me unless we’re the last two chaps in attendance.  I see withered old Jasper Jameson, a former nobody that’s made his claim to attention simply by living longer than most of us.  Conversation with him is pointless.  Whatever has prevented him from hanging himself must also prevent him from saying anything interesting.

Across from Jameson is Warlord Moens.  Moens nor any other living Warlord has actually seen what the histories call a war, but the title remains for those who rise to the rank and discipline.  Moens greatest act in the Unit was thwarting a pack of rebels who planned on escaping to the surface when I was still a babe.  The Unit dubbed it the Skyline Protocol in all the prints, but the general pop gave it the more apt title of the Skyline Massacre because of the Unit’s eradication of not only the rebs, but their family lines as well. Nowadays it’s simply referred to as Skyline if it’s referred to at all.

Moens talks with a man I’ve never seen before, a rare treat.  The old Warlord sometimes makes me feel that I am a Mach instead of posing as one, but his jibes and cold face won’t stop me today.

‘Excellence, Warlord Moens,’ I say as I bow to the two men.

‘Always Greatness, Replica Eye,’ Moens replies in a reflexive manner.  I bow to the man next to him.  ‘Marshal Caprice, this is our resident Replica, Eye.’

The new man smiles at me and stands, offering me his hand.  ‘Ah, a Rep.  Very good, sit.  It’s lads like you that make it possible for me and Denny here to sit around and enjoy a drink.’

Denny?, I think as I shake Caprice’s hand.  I wouldn’t have thought the Warlord to have a common name.  I suppose we all start with one.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marshal Caprice.  A visitor of your stock is always a welcome change.’  Moens pays too little attention to pick up my playful taunt.

‘Please, call me Morris,’ he motions with his hand towards the empty seat next to him.  ‘Do have a seat.  Denny and I were just discussing next seasons crop.’

I take the seat and signal to Potter that I would like a drink.  ‘Yes, I’ve heard rumors of a fert that yield twice the amount,’ I say.

‘You are a well informed young man, Eye,’ Caprice says.

‘I have a good Mouth.’

‘Yes,’ Moens adds, ‘he makes sure you know every little bit of information, doesn’t he?.’

Potter appears with my scotch over ice and I welcome the first sip to my lips immediately

‘He does,’ I say, sipping again.  ‘He does.’

‘Well, the rumors are true,’ begins Caprice.  ‘It came down the line from Tuberlin at last seasons end.  I was sent from Adnama to await the arrival of a sample…’

Moens cuts him off, ‘but Eye over here and an itch so you’ll have to wait here and waste precious time.’

‘Oh hells,’ Caprice laughs.  ‘I’m glad to be out of my hole for a while!  I’ll take

Tria any day.’  The jovial man reaches towards me, laying his hand on my shoulder as his eyes grow serious.  ‘Curiosity is dangerous, son.  Some itches no one can afford to scratch.’  Ease returns to his eyes.  ‘What’s done is done.  Let’s drink.’

Moens stands up from his lounger and finds his cap at is side.  ‘I’ve business, gentlemen.  Be well.’ The Warlord puts on his hat and exits Brooks and Martin’s.

‘Be well,’ both myself and Caprice reply. The Marshal turns to me.

‘I hope you’ll stay and keep me company, Eye,’’ he says.

‘I have no where else to be.’

‘A Rep with a sense of humor.  How truly rare.’  Caprice smiles. ‘Tell me, Eye.  Have you ever touched the tender soil of Adnama?’

‘Not with my hands, I’m afraid,’ I smile.

A feeling of boredom starts to creep up on me.  I know what will follow.  Caprice will give me a detailed description of his underground, pry me to tell him of the above, and tell me I would be greatly appreciated working as a Rep in his area.  I tune as it actually begins.  I can’t fault Marshal Caprice for doing exactly what I expect of him.  Anticipating the thoughts and moves of others is part of my make up and these Unit types are the easiest of all of us.  I watch his lips move.  I perceive every word he says.  I even understand the implied meaning in his vocal inflection.  I reply accordingly, but the frontal part of my mind is completely disconnected now.

I feel the breeze coming off of the exit point.  Climbing those last few rungs, my ascent into the above comes to all senses at once.  A surge of excitement starts in the pit of my gut, threatening to move on to the rest of my body.  I destroy the surge at its source by allowing myself a rare deep breath, filling my lungs to their capacity with the sweet air.  It is the last thing I will consciously enjoy as it happens.  I won’t let myself register any feelings until I’ve returned below, made my report, and lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.  It will be too late to truly feel what I experience, but it is the best I will ever get.

I feel I’ve paid my penance and slowly uncoil myself from the Marshal’s conversation.

‘A young man with time to kill’s got a lot better things to get up to, doesn’t he?’ Marshal Caprice says.

‘I appreciate your honesty.’

‘And I yours,’ he says.

Like the sweatwork, spending time in the gent’s club makes doing anything else feel better by comparison.  Meeting Marshal Caprice was of some interest.  His stories and requests were exactly as I expected, but his attitude was much different the other Unit types.  I’ve only met our crop Marshal once and he had less to say than Moens.  Caprice and the loose girls from Adnama leave me with a feeling that I was born in the wrong territory, a nice feeling compared to wishing I hadn’t been born at all.

My parents didn’t have the sand to terminate me before offing themselves.  I can’t imagine why my mother even brought me to fruition.  There are plenty of simple ways to undo a carried child, but here I am cycles later.  Getting rid of me would have been the right thing to do.  They must have been cowards, letting me live and offing themselves, but it’s never upset me much.  Every reason I go on living is tied to their decision to die.

I could be just like the rest of this lot down here; sad, depressed, hanging on to nothing and hoping things gets better, or just hanging.  But I’m not.  Unwanted children go to the Unit, plain and simple.  If I were such a burden to them, they could have just given me away.  The Unit doesn’t refuse any healthy child.  My family lineage is a wasteful thought.  It starts with me, though I’d have to presume it won’t end here.  One of these trollops that I sully will end up keeping a babe one day.

I’m getting frightfully close to actual emotion and I know this proximity to the tender feeling is creating a need for me to see Feena.  It’s still early enough that I might be able to sneak a few words in with her before the pail & shovel crowd pour in.   The scotch I had earlier wants company and so do I.  The Basement it is.

My prediction is correct as there are barely ten patrons in the establishment.  The Basement isn’t the most popular place to stop off for a quick one, but all the pubs do such a good business they seldom ever close.  I eye Feen behind the bar before she can see me.  I enjoy this.  Once I catch her eye, the face she wears now will change.  She’s pouring over an old paperback book that I’ve seen her read plenty of times.  I smuggled it from above myself as a gift for her cycle a few back.  My tender feeling is raw as I watch her lips move along with the words she reads.  Feena isn’t classically beautiful, she’s tragically beautiful.  Her hair is cropped short to frame her angular cheeky bones and the paint she wears on her face is dark on the lips and eyes in stark contrast to skin as pale as paper.  Feen has always been a sharp dresser.  It was one of the first things we had in common.  Today she’s wearing a plain white top with no sleeves and baggy black trousers held up suspenders.  She looks right up at me as I’m lost in my admiration for her form.  I walk straight over to her.  Now that she’s seen me her face has hardened.

‘Hello modern listener,’ she says.

‘Be proud.  Be proud,’ I reply, finishing the quote.  Josephina set down her beaten copy of A Month of Summers and puts both of her white arms on the bar palm down.

‘What will it be?’

‘I’ve been enjoying my scotch lately,’ I say.

‘Lately?’ she jokes, dripping with malice.

‘Hazard of the occupation, they say.’

She shakes her head.  ‘Mouth tells me you potted a month’s work trying to shave your own face.’ I wish he’d be a little more tightlipped, but we both know that Feena is to be trusted more than most.

‘Ah, Jo, what can I do?  I’m cracking under the pressure.’

‘Not everyone is made to surface,’ she says, handing me a glass from my private stock.  She helps herself to one without asking.  I take no offence.

‘Surfacing,’ I say.  ‘It’s the pressure down here that’s getting to me.’  Feena smiles warmly.

‘Have you come to cause trouble here?’

‘Not today.’

Feen gives me a long look.  ‘Are we drinking to the triple birth?’ she says sarcastically.  Going against years of training and betraying every instinct I have, I smile naturally.  ‘Oh lord,’ she smiles even wider.  ‘What have I done?’  Feena points both of her pointer fingers at me and makes a silly laser sound as she shakes them at me.

‘You got me,’ I say, lifting the drink to my lips.

‘You mean I had you.  Now, I just don’t know.’

‘Let’s save our skipping Vibro wave and enjoy a drink.’

‘That sounds just fine.’  Feen lifts her drink to me.

‘Explode mystic dove.’

‘Explode mystic dove,’ she says as we clink our glasses together.

The smooth wooded taste of the drink helps me get my bearings back.  My genuine smile earlier gets to me.  I should be better than that, though I doubt I’ll ever encounter a Mach I was once sweet on trying to trip me up with a dry joke about the state of things below.  I should have seen it coming from Feen.  She used to love tripping me up.  Getting me to ‘act human’ she would call it.  If I’m so perceptive of what people are going to do and how they are going to behave, maybe I came here specifically for those reasons.

‘Good to see you’re still enjoying that book,’ I say.

‘I can’t wait to see how it ends.’  This time, I was ready.  I’m not letting my ex get the better of me, at least this time around.

‘Nice try,’ I say, admitting to my foul up earlier.

‘Heard you kept pretty busy with some Adnamanians.’

‘Does Mouth really tell you everything?’ I ask.

‘Oh, you think Mouth is my only source?  I’m not silly.  I heard that some Marshal brought his daughters along into Tria on some Unit business.  Joffer told me that they were here.  He told me that you were here.  That’s all I needed to know.’

‘It’s all quite routine, isn’t it?’

‘It surely is,’ Feen coolly replies.

‘You still paring with that old bloke?’

‘Old bloke?  Bruun is only six cycles older than you.’

‘I’m no hothouse flower myself,’ I say, finishing my scotch.  ‘How ‘bout another?’

Feena nods in agreement.  ‘If you say so, guv.’

‘I say more than so.’

‘Maybe that’s your major issue.  You just talk so much.’  She pours both of us a few more fingers of drink.  I reach into my pocket and produce a pack of Mach smoke.

‘You offering one of those as well?’

‘As long as you can rig the Vibro in here to play something a little more up to pace.’

Feen draws a deep breath.  ‘No can do. The working crews will be in here soon and they like a bit of the old touch.’

‘Fair enough.’  I put two cigs in my mouth and light them both, handing one over to the charming bartender in the black suspenders.

‘It’s not without it’s charm, Eye.’

‘The smoke?  It’s nothing but charm, sis.’

‘I mean the old tunes, you daft bug.’

Jo gives me another of her special smiles.  We had something real together once.  I was fresh out of Unit training and had just made my season as a Replica.  Old Lancer was still around then.  In addition to taking me up and showing me the ropes, it was also his job to make sure I knew how to relax.  Back when there was first a need to send Reps, they kept them under lock and key.  Most cracked up, so relaxation and high living slowly became part of the package.  I’d never been to a watering hole or had a smoke until after I make my first trip. It was all so new and enjoyable.  That’s when I found Feen, exactly like she is in front of me.  We took up for a while.  Lasted for almost a cycle before I realized the full potential my status granted me.  I can’t say it had nothing to do with Lancer disappearing around the same time.  My loss in him highlighted the risk, making me reevaluate the reward.  I wasn’t taking enough of my share.

As my third scotch of the day warms me, I notice that Feena was right.  The old tunes may not be as flash or developed as the new stuff, but they certainly have their place.

To report immediately, the morning report reads.  I fold it neatly and sit down to my g & g with the public paper.  I’ll finish my routine and then make for HQ.  I need to get a little steam out and the boat will do the trick.  All of my instincts are pushing me to rush my meal and sweatwork, but I’m no slave to impulse.  Instead, I read the entire paper, packed with useless news and advertisements from front to back.

It’s time for me to shutdown Eye.  The methodical movement of the rowing boat suits my purpose perfectly.  With each stride I make, a little more of my thought process withers away.  There is no Unit.  There is no Feena.  There is no Eye.  There is only the task at hand.  My breathing is perfect, my movements are robotic, and my closed eyes see only sun in front of them.  I’ve visited many times, but this is the most I have looked forward to risking my life.  Seeing the sun before me, my last personal thought is that I won’t ever delay a mission again.

Four

‘It’s the fert I was telling you about,’ Mouth says, dressed in full uniform.  ‘You only have to bring back one full unit.  Just enough for them to see if it works like the reports say. Simply procedure.  They’re allotting you twenty four hours, same as always, before they count you out, so just make sure whatever errands your running for yourself don’t interfere.’

I stare at Mouth as he looks at me silently.

‘This is the first time you’re going up since your skip,’ he says.  ‘I know you’re familiar with everything I’m telling you, but don’t let the anticipation of surfacing rule your judgement.  They don’t send you up every so often just because they need you to go.  They’re afraid a Rep goes rusty without the pressure, so just make this a quick one so they know you’re all set.  They’ll watch your behavior closely on this one.  Make sure you do a perfect job and they’ll back right off again.

‘Affirmative,’ I say.

‘That’s enough, Eye. We can exchange pleasantries later. Get going to the surgeon,’ he smiles at me.  ‘Be well’.

‘Be well,’ I say.

Mouth and I exit the small briefing room, parting in opposite directions.  This station is the last before the end of the world.  It’s no quick journey, though I seldom remember making it.  From the surgeon, I will proceed to the last checkpoint, and then down the long corridor all by my lonesome.  No one knows the exact point of my exit besides the top Unit brass and the Reps before me.  The Unit takes no chances after Skyline.

I settle myself into the tram before engaging it to send me to the surgeon.  It’s a short trip, but my focus and exertion need to remain fresh.  The trip is exceedingly bright to help my eyes ready for the adjustment to the sun, though the tint of the contacts help.  Coming to a full stop, I reach the end of the world for everyone but me.  Two armed Unit guards check my retinas before I can exit the tram.  They handle me like a parcel, escorting me to the surgeon’s operating room and leaving me before I enter.

‘Greatness,’ the old surgeon says.

‘Always Excellence.’

The surgeon is old enough to make Jasper Jameson seem full of life and fruitful, but the surgeon is a professional and the best part of his work is that he does it all in complete silence.  It never bothers me that the surgeon might be the last human I ever see.

Stripping down naked, the older man injects the contents of a needle at the base of my back.  The predjure stings greatly.

‘You will not sweat for twenty four hours, so make sure not to overheat,’ he tells.  I’ve heard him say this many time.  He never changes the sound in his cold voice or alters the words even slightly.

Stepping away from me, the surgeon flash-scans off the top layer of my skin, turning it into a loose ashen dust.  Climbing up his platform to stand above me, he runs the laser comb through my hair vigorously several times.  Eyeing me down, he appears satisfied and moves onto my eyebrows, making short work of them.  A laser blade similar to what he used on my head is next applied to my face, singed the hair off until there is no trace I’ve ever had any.  Staring at me for a long while, the surgeon makes one more pass at my eyebrows.

‘Step into the light, please,’ he says.  Moving from the staging area towards the light tunnel, an intense wind blows towards me, then away, and finally once from each side.  Checking a read out, the surgeon is pleased with the result.

‘Free and clear.  Step further,’ he says. I move out of the light tunnel where the surgeon awaits me with my Mach gear.  I dress, adding all but the lenses, and nod to him that I am ready to proceed.  He hands me the contact case which I slip into my pocket as well as my Mach creds and other essentials.  Moving me back towards his platform, the surgeon push on my hair until he is happy with the shape.  Though I am used to my reflection, I see only a Mach when I am faced to the mirror.

‘Verify,’ the old man asks.

‘Affirmative,’ I reply.

The surgeon walks me to the back exit of his room.  Nodding, he bids me farewell.

‘Be well, Eye.’

‘Be well,’ I say and leave his operating room.  I walk to the end of the hallway where an elevator awaits me.  I’m all alone from here.  Stepping up to the elevator, I place my entire face into the retina scanner.  It runs the test three times before asking for an imprint from each of my fingers.  My pulse is also taken during the printing process, at the off chance someone has made it this far with my dead body.  My access is granted.

The elevator moves swiftly and the lighting simulates a sun rise, getting brighter as I reach the top.  All of the light treatment confuses me since the end of my journey must be made in near darkness, but I have learned not to question it.  Leaving the elevator, I make a small walk, about two hundred yards where I reach my first ladder.  Climbing it, I now am only five hundred yards away from the surface

I can feel the surge wanting to develop in my stomach.  I extinguish by popping in my contacts and lighting myself up a rollie.  The ritual is the last of my human motions.  This is the end of Eye and the beginning of something nameless, fatherless, unborn, timeless, and in control.

Standing at the foot of the last ladder,  I look upward only a short distance.  Making the this last human climb, I pry open the viewfinder.  A few Machs linger within viewable distance, though they are very far away.  I must wait for them to leave.  I stand for several minutes before my port is clear.  Opening the seal, I exit.

My point is underneath a large concrete structure.  My appearance at this point wouldn’t be questioned, but I can not risk exposing the entry point.  Walking out from underneath the concrete overhanging, I see the familiar blue and white sign that reads two nine zero east with an arrow pointing to the right.  I follow the arrow and walk into the Mach metropolis of Chicago.

The Grant is large, green, and filled with Machs doing the same thing I intend to do; enjoy a beautiful day in the park.  Some rest on the grass.  Others gather around tables where Machs play Kill by Numbers on the checkered board. I walk half way into the park and sit on a bench next to a male appearing the age of my own cycle.  His hair is light and colorless, like mine.  I reach into my packet and remove a ciggy and my light.  The young man next to me takes this as a signal to do the same.  I light my cig with no effort, but I notice the Mach next to me is having trouble.  He takes his cig out of his mouth and looks at it.  Displeased, he looks into his pack to see that it is empty. Watching him look around pathetically out of the corner of my eye, I extend my packet towards him.  He looks at me, holding up his cigarette, burnt on the wrong end.

‘Mistake,’ he says.  I nod.

‘Have,’ I motion down to the packet of cigs.  He nods and takes one.

‘Fool,’ he says, looking at his own burnt cig and then to himself.

‘No fool,’ I reassure him.  ‘Mistake.’

The young looking Mach waves his right hand over his chest and face in an upward motion.  ‘Five,’ he says.

I make the same motion with my left hand.  ‘Eye,’ I introduce myself.

‘I?’ he points to himself.

‘Eye,’ I say, lifting a finger towards my socket.

He laughs.  ‘Eye,’ Five repeats. ‘Fool,’ he points to himself laughing.  I am puzzled.

I take out a few cigarettes and lay them next to the Mach.  He nods and smiles.

‘Thanks.’

We proceed to smoke several cigs in silence before I announce my departure.

‘Forward, Five.’

‘Forward, Eye,’ he replies.

I stand up to walk away.  ‘Eye,’ the Mach calls to me.  I turn to face him.  He is holding out a transfer card.  ‘Take,’ he says.  ‘Payback thanks.’  He smiles at me as I reach for the card.

‘Positive,’ I say, taking it from him.  I put the transfer in my pocket without examining it and head in the direction of the greener.

The supply store is only a short walk away from the Grant but I take my time and go the long way around.  I’ve kept up on Machwear for this season and I posses most of what is displayed in the windows.  I enjoy watching the Machs coming in and out of the stores.  I’ve often wondered who programmed these machines to understand possession.  It’s told that they were made in our image, so I suppose it makes sense.  I would have done them the favor to leave some things out.

My extended trip leads me to my destination more quickly than I paid attention to.

The large doors open for me on detection of my presence alone.   I walk past several exiting Machs and head in the direction of the fertilizer department.

The green supplier runs a constant holovert for the fertilizer I have been sent to retrieve.  ‘More special green grow.  More better flower quick,’ the Mach says as grass grows and buds flower around him in his garden.  ‘Take Clearns home.  Take Clearns green grow special.  Make better flower quick.’  I walk in the direction the holovert is pointing until I reach the large display.  There are three sizes to choose from. I sense a Mach approaching as I reach down to grab the smallest bag.  It is a female of modern make.

‘Make better flower grow quick,’ she says with a nod of satisfaction.  “Tunia make much, Rose make much perfect.’

‘Perfect?’ I ask.

‘Perfect,’ she replies.

I nod and grab the largest bag instead.  Moving past me, the female returns to her own business.  Walking towards the front of the store, I stop to pay for my fert.  Holding my credcard in my hand, I wave it over a small screen.

‘Assist?’ a animated carrying cart asks me.

‘Zero,’ I reply.  Carrying the fert, I exit the store.

The street is filled with Machs, both on foot and in carriage.  The sky is clear.  The temperature average.  I have achieved much in little time.

It takes me several minutes to reach my entry point on foot, but when I arrive there is no Mach in sight.  I enter properly and retrace my steps back to the surgeon.  Wordlessly, I hand him the fert and then remove my Mach outfit.  He returns my downside clothing and I dress.

‘Personal declarations?’ the surgeon asks.

‘None.’

The two armed guards escort me to the tram as the surgeon fills out his report. Before I am fully conscious of it, I am in front of Mouth again.

‘Nice and easy this time?’ he asks.

‘Yes.’

‘We’re going on record now,’ Mouth says, flipping on the comlink to the Unit.

‘Please report, in full, your visit to the surface of area 601GE Chicago,’ he says.

I look straight into link.  ‘Several Machs were in the vicinity of entry point, non-threatening.  Had to delay until the area was clear. Walked one mile to the Grant.  Sat for several minutes smoking Mach cigarettes before walking to Seven One’s green supplier.  Encountered a fem Mach who conversationally promoted use of the Clearns’ fert.  Procured fert.  Exited Seven One’s without assistance.’

After a long pause, the Unit supervisor speaks into the comlink.

‘Is this all?’ he asks, the same and only question they all do.

‘Affirmative.’

Mouth powers the down the link.

‘How’d it feel getting back up?  I could tell you’d been getting a little antsy lately.’

‘The weather was pleasant,’ I say.  Mouth knows that I will need some time to return to my normal self, though he often forgets.

‘Right, right.  Let’s get you back to Tria and we’ll have a nice tall drink after you rest.’  I nod in reply.

The tram ride back to Tria is swift, the cool air blowing through my hair.

I lay on my bed fully clothed.  Staring at the ceiling, the panic starts in my toes.  It shoots quickly to the top of my head and back and forth until the attack causes my breathing to increase in speed.  This is standard on returning, though I won’t ever get used to it.  I want to claw at the walls of my compact.  I envision my fingertips bleeding as I scratch at the surface.  My heart beats out of control.  I get quickly flashes of myself trying to escape back to the surface, furiously burrowing my way out until my heart feels like it is going to burst.

I reach my severely shaking hand to the night stand and grab a small amount of alky I mechanically poured myself before laying down, knowing this episode would occur.  I raise it to my nose, inhaling liquids deep burn.  I follow this deep nasal breath with a large drink from the glass.  Setting it back down, I take up a roll and light it.  Another deep breath follows, this one laden with smoke. I hold the drag inside me until I feel the alcohol hit my nerves, quieting them like water would a fire.  I exhale.

Reaching into the crack of my backside, I retrieve the transfer card the strange young Mach gave me.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  The transfer cards I was shown in training are very much out of date when compared to Five’s.  Five.  I laugh aloud and begin to tremble slightly.  I quickly remedy this with another gulp and inhale.  I made a fraking friend.  I cannot believe it.  I made friends with a Mach.  He gave me his bleeding transfer card, for sun’s sake!  I can find him anytime I like, providing I’m on the surface and had a transmitter.  The Unit’s probably already eating this up.  Or they would have.

I’ve taken a huge risk.  I should have reported this and turned the card in to Mouth for the Unit to examine.  I barely remember slipping that card into the crack of my arse.  I could bring it to him now.  I don’t think I’d even get a slap on the knuckles, but forgetting the story of my new friend would have to be attached and I’d rather wait until I have something more to report.

He was a rather pathetic figure.  I’ve never had that much interaction with a Mach before, but he was instantly different than any of them I have ever encountered.  I can recall it all.  The blueish hue that hung in the sky over the beautiful park, the smell of the greengrass, the dressings of each Mach in the park, and my friend called Five giving me a sheepish look at lighting the wrong end of a cig!  I can’t decide if this memory was the best moment of my life or not.   It’s surely close.

I close my eyes and lean back onto my bed, the drink and smoke having done their trick.

I must report this all to Mouth.  He will offer me a perspective I lack on the situation.  Though I am instantly at odds with sharing this information with anybody.  Mouth is my geezer, my best and brightest friend, but that’s also his job with the Unit.  I have looked deep into his big browns many times and seen nothing but good intentions, but this may be his show.  I hate to contemplate the loyalty of such a great one, but this is the first time I have any information I might consider even remotely dangerous.  Full contact with a Mach with the intent to meet again?  My skies!  The Unit might put the rope around me themselves.

I’ve got to calm this info down.  I will be meeting with Mouth at the skin show in a few hours and if I can read him, he can surely read me and excitement of any kind will simmer from the deepest parts of my mind to the surface in some fashion or other. My life is full of dull reports and the most exciting one I’ve happened upon is the one I cannot retell.  Not even to Mouth.

Five

‘You look a shade better than before,’ Mouth says as fems sweet feeders shake near his face.

‘It’s a good touch to the blood to get back there,’ I say, enjoying the distraction.

‘It looked more like you didn’t have any blood at all.’

Mouth’s comment gives me the impression he’s digging at something.  ‘Well, it’s back now, isn’t it?’ I say, wrapping my arm around the fleshpot before me.  ‘You feel my blood flow, don’t you love?’  She smiles and grinds her working gear into my member.

‘Yes it is,’ she says.  This gets a laugh out of Mouth.

‘I had a nice fit back at the place though.  Skipping must have built it up.  Didn’t feel a touch of it up top though,’ I say.  In truth, the attack was more mild than usual, but I feel I have to give Mouth something to tie to my ghostly look back when we comlinked.

‘Ah, you’re a pro if there ever was one,’ he says reassuringly.  I seem to have placated my dear friend enough for him to relax the topic.

‘I’ve had enough grinding and giggling, young ladies.  Why don’t we get to the back and make this a living connection?’ I say.  The girls with Mouth and I smile wide, moving their bodies like liquid and lead us away to privacy.

Like the drink and smoke, the tender touch is a rebirthing of sorts.  The smells of the fem alone makes the tiny hairs on my arm stand straight up and the hairs aren’t the only thing that does it either.  The fem leads me to her private room where we can interact as loudly and as long as we’d like.  My credit is great standing with the establishment and these girls would do anything I ask of them.  A lot of the time, I will push their limits to amuse myself, but getting going easy-easy after a trip up. Bodyplay after surfacing is an unique experience.  The return of sensation I endured in my compact is nothing compared to what this skin merchant will bring me.

My fem is dark haired and curvy.  I like a bigger fem when I’m at the skin show.  I yearn for something soft and pillowy.  She starts to remove my clothing.  I try to remain passive for as long as possible, letting her get each and every item of my gear off.  I lay back on her bed while she works her mouth down my chest.  I feel a surge in the pit of my stomach where they all start.  My mind connects to the surge, knowing that I can give into this feeling without any reprisal.  I fight if for as long as I can, but the second her tongue flicks my gadget, I jump up on top of her, pushing her to the bed.  She smiles as I bare my teeth at her.  This is a playful one.

Pinning her arms down to the bed, I’m in her with a quick spit and lacquer.  She plays at being trapped underneath me and gives me a little fight.  I’m near glorious already, but the sensation of its approach is too precious to sputter out.   I remove myself, flipping her over like a child’s doll and make the ninety degree angle while she faces away from me.  Her noises have left her thespian stage and begun to sound guttural, honest, and noble.  I slap her thick white hide as hard as I can and pump piston proud.  I’m running out of time.

I flip her back over, taking her legs likes guiding rods, lifting her rump up off the bed and grinding her into me, deeper and deeper each movement.  I savor the look on her face. My skin dry moist with her perspiration, I grab her shoulders and pull her body into mine.  The gig is up.  I wrap a hand around her fleshy face and she takes my thumb into her mouth, her constant moaning vibrating my enclosed digit.

As the thrusting is at full speed, my fleshpot swivels her hips in perfect time to our play.  She is a total pro, a turn on for me.  I’m a sucker for devotion to ones work.  She bites down on my thumb and my gadget begins to twitch.  I take as deep a breath as I can as the twitching spreads through out my whole body.  I surrender to their call.

‘That’s the price of admission!’, I scream, emptying my lineage deep inside her.

I collapse on top of the fem and slowly roll to the side.

‘You’re so dry, I mean, besides…’ she says.  I reach over to my clothes and pull out a packet.

‘Fit as a fiddle, I am.’ I offer her a smoke, but she declines.  ‘Do you mind?’ I say, motioning to the cig.

‘Feel free,’ she says.

Suddenly, I do.

Mouth and I sing along to Had I A Redo…’s excellent fugue P: Neat Killing Spines as it blares from my Vibro Deluxe.  The sounds move backwards and forwards, pushing and pulling our sensibilities along with it.  Had I A Redo… are one of the only human music makers that have fully embraced and understand the creating of Mach-like music.

‘Feed me to the lions,’ we sing, glasses held high.  Mouth wears a big smile.  I’m close to doing the same.  I’ve tipped the bottle up higher than I’m used to tonight and my head is feeling light as air.  Mouth waves his hands around vigorously along with the music as it comes to a dramatic close.

‘I’ve got to slow it up a bit,’ I tell Mouth as I crash down on my rocking rester.

‘Night’s young, Eye.’

‘Then I guess I’m not,’ I say.  Mouth laughs and lights a smoke.

‘Ah, they were pleased with you today, my boy.  You pulled a quick mission and that’s what they were looking for.  Very pleased.  I could tell.’

How Mouth can tell, I don’t know.  While he meets more Unit men than I do, neither of us are privileged enough to meet the men who construct our orders.  It’s all comlink and print outs from the.  Sometimes they send a local Unit man like El-tee Masters, but he’s not much more than a glorified voice of reason.  The Unit likes to keep away from Reps, or more likely keep them away from us.  I don’t blame them.  Mouth has a few solid contacts with in the Unit, but he never speaks of them.

I get a feeling that I should share my experience today with Mouth, hells be damned the outcome.  Watching him smoke, I know I have total trust in this man.  He’s not reported on me in the past when I have a slip up and keep it from the Unit.  Mouth smiles at me as we catch our breath in silence.  This alone prevents the thought of telling him the truth from going any further in my mind.  If I don’t drop the thought completely I will become a paranoid android and I don’t need or want that.  It’s something I’m going to take with me to the shady caves of elder.  It wasn’t even that exciting when I think of it.  Just two pleasant strangers enjoying an pleasant day.

‘Heard you made a nice imprint on Marshal Caprice the other day,’ Mouth says.

‘I thought I would dust up over there and show a little remorse for my foul up.’

Mouth laughs, ‘Well you did quite well then.  Seems he’s sending word of you to the big ups in Adnama to poach you for them.’

‘I don’t think anyone’s giving me up here.’

‘Not likely at all, but politics are politics.  You’ve met the man.  Caprice probably has friends all the way to the top.’

‘Hell, they send you with me, I’m in.  One place or another doesn’t matter to me.’

‘It won’t happen.  Plus,’ he shrugs his shoulders, ‘Shell and the boys.  They wouldn’t be having it.’

I don’t want Mouth to springboard into his miseries.  I’d rather he pry than that.

‘Then either will I,’ I say, giving my mate a half smile and nod.  ‘I’d prefer they moved Caprice over here.’

‘He’s just a crop master.’

I’m not letting Mouth steer his feelings to the ground.

‘We’ve got it pretty good down here, at least considering.  But imagine how it would be if I had an in like Caprice?  It would be bloody murder.’

‘You don’t give the U enough credit, friend.  Everything they do is planned to a tee.  I mean, how do we even know that Caprice is actually from Adnama?’

‘Are you having a go?’ I ask.

‘Of course I am,’ he laughs at me.  I’m glad he’s brightened up, even if it is at my expense.  ‘They can barely pull their pants down in time to piss.  I wish they offered a little intrigue once in a while.’  Mouth looks down at his hands as he rubs them together.

‘I’m feeling it now,’ he says.  ‘You’ve got to be right spent.’

‘I’m coming close.  My head’s not doing the round and round anymore.’

‘If this fert pays off, I’m sure they’ll have you back up in no time.  Make sure you get your rest and don’t have too much fun without me.’

‘Tomorrow then?’ I ask.

‘It’s little Thom’s cycle day,’ he say.  I stare at him absently for a moment.   ‘Remember?’

‘It had slipped my mind while I was repressing being arse raped by machines on the surface.’

Mouth shakes his head and points his finger at me. ‘You’re due around at half five.  Don’t be late.  Thommy will be blue as a bell if you’re not there.’

‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ I say.

Mouth pats me on the back on his way out of my compact.

‘Be well, eyeball.’

‘Be well, fanny lips,’ I reply.

‘Now that’s a freshie,’ he chuckles on his way out of my space.

I can hear him laughing in the hallway as I roll my head back and close my eyes.

My dream veers away from its typical nightmarish tone.  I am above, but instead of fearing discovery, I long for it.  Trying to find the nearest machine person to confess to, I disappointingly find the streets empty.  The feeling doesn’t last as I am happy to have the world to myself.  I walk through the abandon city until I reach the beautiful body of water.  Gentle formations of liquid roll in my direction, baiting me.  I patiently remove every article of my clothing, folding them and setting them in a pile near my pale white feet.

I walk into the water.  It is warm against my skin.  I look forward into the endless horizon.  Turning back, I see that I have walked very far and I am in no sight of land.  I do not panic, but I recognize that I should.  I cup the water in my hands and pour it over my hair and face.  I become uninteresting in the endless water on all sides of me and decide to look underneath it.

Ducking into the water,  I see that it is much deeper than I thought.  I walk along the bottom of the water, breathing as easily as I would in air.  The surroundings are very plain and I feel myself consciously hoping to see a water creature.  My imagination cannot produce anything and I am left alone. I lay down on the wet ground and close my eyes.

Knowing I have just dreamt my underwater walk, I open my eyes in the park where I have seemingly dozed off.  I have no recollection of coming to the park, but I don’t question that my behavior might lead me here.  Sitting up, I reach for a cigarette in my shirt pocket, but I have none.  A man stands in front of me, his image obscured by sunshine.  He offers me a cigarette which I take.  The man lights it for me.  As I inhale the first drag, a burning sensations starts on my lips.  The fire moving quickly and painfully, I realize that the cigarette was a trick and that I am being vaporized.

I wish more than anything that I was back in my underwater dream, alone.

‘Oy, Thommy,’ I say, picking the young lad up in my arms.  ‘Six cycles!  You’re quiet the gate crasher already!’  The young boy smiles.

‘Did you bring me a present?’ he asks.  I look over at his mother, Marina, with show look of shock.

‘Did I bring you a present?’  I look the little boy straight in the eyes. ‘Of course I brought you a present!  Come on, young one, who do you think I am?’

‘I think you’re my flash uncle Eye!’ he says.  I pick up the bag I’d set at me feet upon arrival.

‘Here you go, but you don’t get to open it until after we eat.  I don’t want your mother throwing me out before I’ve eaten your pops grub.’  The child picks up the bag and shakes it slightly, holding it to appraise its weight.

‘Uncle Eye,’  I say, shaking my head.  ‘I’m not that much older than you, you know.’  Mouth appears from around the corner wearing a cooking coverall over his normal dressing.

‘He’s growing up, my boy is.’  Hiding behind Mouth is his youngest child, a shy girl called Mini.  She clings to his leg.  I kneel down to her level.

‘Hello there Mini.  No need to be shy.  It’s just tired old me,’ I say.  The girl moves her head enough so one of her eyes can see me.  I reach into my pocket and produce a shiny bracelet, something that a grown fem might find silly, but that a wee fem at three cycles would adore.  ‘I guess I just have to go throw this super bracelet in the trasher.’  The little lady moves herself in front of her father, though she still holds onto his leg with one arm.

‘You’re going to have to give me a big hug if you want it,’ I say, dangling the bracelet at the tip of my digit.  She looks pained, but chooses to come forward towards me.  Her tiny arms quickly wrap around me and by the time I close my arms where she should be, she’s back by her father examining the bracelet she swiped from me.

‘She’s a quick one,’ I say.

‘I know.  You should see me chasing her around after Thommy goes to day lessons,’ Marina shakes her head.  For whatever troubles she and Mouth might have, Marina takes pride in their children.

‘I’m sure it’s a sight.’ I look over to our chef.  ‘What’s on the table tonight old major?’

‘Got an excellent veg spread.  Sprouts, oranges, beets, and potatoes heated with a special sauce I whipped up.  Then we have a soy roast, heavy flavor for the boy,’ Mouth looks to his smiling son.  ‘And then to wrap it all up a nice touch of sugared bread.’

‘Bread?’ I say, impressed.

‘It wasn’t cheap,’ Mouth says, proud to supply for his son.

‘You could have stored your pay instead.  There are more important things than trying to impress a seven cycle boy with sugar breads.’

I feel a discomfort at Marina’s comment.  Knowing how much she loves her youngsters tells me that she only made that comment to hurt Mouth directly.  I see why he’s been getting the glums, but I can’t sort things out without the full story, which I’m not very interested in getting.

Mouth plays off his wife’s comment.  ‘It’s all about ready, so if we’d like to take our places at the table, I’ll serve you all sitting.’

I am the first to sit and the only in their dining space.  I’m glad to have it to myself.  Play acting with children can be more taxing than the Machs.  The feed does smell something excellent.  I can stray from the g&g and pick up some mess from a sit down and serve, but it doesn’t often appeal to me.  Eating is purely a necessity, but a good heated meal sounds good after my morning routine resulted in a little upping from my stomach due to over drinking with the chef.

I can hear Marina mumbling something to Mouth in the other room and I suddenly contemplate whether she approves of my presence.  I spend a lot of time with Mouth, both on Unit biz and on the social front.  She might hold me up to the fire for his so often absence.  Can’t be though.  More likely the other way around.  Mouth had no problem letting me hit the scene alone when he and Marina were smiling fools.

Young Thom enters.  ‘What did you get me?’

‘I can’t tell you,’ I smile.  ‘Waiting and guessing is part of the fun.’

‘Is it a toy?’

‘Maybe,’ I say.  Marina and Mouth enter the room together, little Mini following behind.  I look into Marina’s eyes, but she quickly averts them.

Mouth and I sit alone in his visiting room long after Marina and the children have gone off to sleep.  We enjoy a special cig, a rare large one that neither of us breath in but enjoy the flavor mixed with our sweet liquor.

I can sense from Mouth’s disposition that he is about to tell me what had been going on.  While I am very curious, a larger part of me wishes he wouldn’t.

‘Alright mate.  Out with it,’ I say.  Mouth leans back in his rester, blowing a ringlet of smoke out of his mouth.

‘It’s nothing I want to concern you with, Eye.’

‘Come one, no need to short shite me.  It’s written all over your blinkers and puss.  There’s something not unified about you and Marina.’

‘Married life is different.’

‘I can tell that, master.  But something about your married life is different than it was,’  I ash the big cig.  ‘Is it coin?  You know I’ve got lots to spare.  If it’s coin, just say so and we’ll be done with it.’

Mouth smiles.  ‘It ain’t the coin.  I do just fine.’  He hesitates, trying to find his next statement at the bottom of his glass.  ‘It’s just…Marina, she…’

‘Christo,’ I interrupt.  ‘She’s not leaving you, is she?’

‘No, no, no,’ he says.  ‘It’s not that at all.’

‘Well, no more guessing games.  What’s the layout?’

‘She was pregnant and,’ Mouth looks down.  ‘She had the baby done in early.’

‘Oh.’ I don’t know exactly what to say.  Terminating babies before they can suffer down here has always seemed like a mercy to me, but the Unit makes it seem like our duty to populate the underground.

‘She didn’t even tell me until it was over with,’ Mouth says, a trace of liquid sad in his eye.  ‘Marina knows.  She knows that the Unit has given us a better life than most people can get.  But she didn’t even ask what I thought.  She didn’t…’ Tears flow from Mouth’s eyes.  ‘She doesn’t care that I believe in the Unit.  She doesn’t care that I think things are going to get better.  “I wouldn’t curse another child,” she said to me.’ Mouth shakes his head.  ‘You see Thommy and little Mini, they’re the lights of my life.  Another one of the being cursed?  Like the life I’ve given them is so horrible that she’d rather chuck our future.’

‘You still have Thom and Min, mate,’ I say, trying to sympathize with Mouth.

‘Not my family, Eye.  Not my family’s future.  Our future.’ Mouth’s moist eyes meet mine.  ‘The future of mankind,’ he says.

I nod solemnly, getting a much better picture of a man I thought I knew so well.  I took him for ice, outside of his family.  I never thought he was a believer.

‘One day things are going to be different.  Just like we underestimated the Machs so long ago, they will one day underestimate us and we will take back the surface.  If we don’t populate down here, there will be no one left.  Human’s will just be a footnote in some Mach history disc for their newbies to pour over.’

I don’t like mincing words.  I want to tell Eye that we’ve been doomed as a race long before either he or I was born.  Populate?  This place is over run and it’s like that in every territory.  There isn’t going to be another chance to reclaim the surface.  Not for anyone.  Not ever.

Looking at his sad state, I chose to hold my tongue.

‘She should have consulted you,’ I say.

‘It’s not even that.’  Mouth sets down his big cig.  ‘She used to believe, mate.  She used to be the reason I did myself.  I lost her somewhere along the way.  I look at our two beautiful babies,’ Mouth’s voice gets higher pitched as his emotions grab hold of him. ‘those wonderful children that I wake and work everyday for and see what our love created.  What our belief together created and know it’s lost.’  Mouth calms down.  His out pour of emotions is unsettling.  ‘It’s lost.’

‘All the bodyplay and drink isn’t going to bring it back.’

‘You could find somebody else.’ I suggest, not sure of my comments appropriateness.

‘I wish,’ he laughs.  ‘I couldn’t be away from those kids.  No way.  No how.’

I nod my head.  ‘I understand,’ I speak aloud, but I do not come close to comprehending Mouth’s mindstate.

I return to my compact alone.  Mouth’s outburst has burrowed under my skin and it’s making me think in different patterns.  His worry of an under populated future is laughable to me, but all I can tell is that it wasn’t to him.  That gets to me.  Mouth is a smart man.  I wise man I would even say.  The future?  I’ve never even tried to imagine anything other than what I do day after day.  The future has no place for me.  It has no place for any of us.  This world of ours is lost.  It doesn’t upset me.  It’s been lost long before I was alive.  It didn’t have anything to do with me.  I’m just making the best with my position in the dirt.

Mouth’s state has put me in a hole and I can’t even be bothered to flip on the VD for some distracting tunes.  I stare at my telly, thinking of calling a fem.  I pick it up and realize that I’m not calling some slat or even the take home flesh service.  I’m calling Josephina.  This is all Mouth’s doing.  If he wouldn’t have whined to me about his sad existence, I wouldn’t be so close to the tender feeling.

‘Oy, Eye, it’s late.’

‘I needed a friendly voice is all.’

‘Well, I’m here,’ she say. I can hear her new mate Bruun in the background.

‘Tell that freak to spark off on his own,’ he says.

‘Oh, is that Bruun I hear?  Ask him if he’s packed for the shady caves yet.’

‘Eye, please,’ she pauses.  ‘Hold on a tic.’

After a few seconds, she returns.  ‘I had to get out of our room,’ she says.  ‘So what is it you wanted to talk about?’

‘Nothing.  I don’t want to talk about anything in particular.  I just want to hear some casual banter from a friend.

‘It’s half three, Eye.  I’m not in the mood for casual banter.  Just pay a pot to listen instead of poke.’

‘I’m in a bad way,’ I say, alarming myself at my state of candor.

‘Oh,’ she says, the edge dropped from her voice.  ‘Well, let’s see…My brother George got caught pulling the run around on a brother and sister pair.’

‘Is that so,’ I reply, gleefully taking the bait.

‘Best part, their helio-religious.’  We share a laugh.  ‘The brother ain’t supposed to be positive-positive and the sister shouldn’t even be with a bloke.’

‘I always liked George.  Shaking things up.’

‘Mom’s having a fit over it.  She ain’t helio, but her folks parent’s were.  She feels it’s disrespectful to trash on others beliefs or something.  Maybe she’s just super old fashioned and doesn’t like George going positive-positive positive-negative.’

‘That could be the case.’ Talking to Feena doesn’t bring a smile to my face as much as it just brings me back into myself.  I feel pleased within.

‘Eye, you know I’ll be here for you until the dogs come back, but let’s just try to have our meet ups and talks before I’ve been sleeping for hours.’

‘Of course, Feeny,’ I say, slipping into a nickname for her I haven’t used in cycles.

‘I’ll talk to you soon, Scream,’ she says, disconnecting the conversation.

With my mood greatly improved, I scan my thoughts for a slat to call.

It’s been a decent while since I’ve had Raine over for some giggling.  I call her up and she’s awake.  With no trace of gratitude or annoyance in her voice, she agrees to come over.

Raine isn’t the kind of fem I have over for casual bodyplay.  She’s pure nihilist and her body rides wild with dark abandon.  After Mouth’s talk of belief and the future I look forward to Raine’s bleak outlook.  She’s not the kind of femmy I want around all of the time, but once in a while she can be as good as a trip up top.

At the sound of the bell, I open the door.  Raine is dressed in jet black from her walkies to her high necked sweater.  She’s wearing dark worker’s goggles, a touch I truly enjoy.

‘I can smell the sun all over this place,’ she says, walking in and removing her overcoat.

‘I do apologize.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she says.  Raine walks over to my bed and lays back on it, still fully dressed.  She’s usually straight to business and that’s why I called her.  If she wants to talk, I’ll think I’ll get the rope.

‘Don’t see how we’re getting any further with you in your get up.’

Raine smiles.  ‘Tear off of me, Eye.  All of it. Destroy it.’

Pleased at her direction, I lick my lips.

‘Now!’ she demands.

I leap on top of her and begin to pull over her top.

‘I didn’t say remove it.  I said tear if off.’

I grab the sweater by the neck and pull on it with both of my hands.  It does not rip, but it has pulled at the stitching.  Now knowing the exact direction to pull, I yank as hard as I can, splitting the top from neck to stomach.

‘Yes!’ she screams.  Enthused, I take her under support and rip it off of her chest with little effort.  Her white mams are large and covered in tiny scratches.  Moving down to her knickers, I have no idea how to attack them.  The material is much stronger than the top.  I’m contemplating my next move with one of her milkers in mouth.  Raine kicks me off with all her strength.  She moves away from me, like I have attacked her.

‘What the hells?’ I ask.

‘Are you going to come and fight for it, you weak brother lover?’ she asks, making her way towards my mess room.  This Raine is something else. Following her, she grabs a knife out of from a drawer and begins tossing it between her hands.

‘You come near me and I’ll kill you,’ she says.  I know this is part of her act, though it takes some getting used to.  I doubt my life means much to her.

‘You shouldn’t playing with something so sharp.  I just might slip right inside you,’ I say.  The look in her eyes grows stronger as I close in on her.  The intensity of her look causes my some distress.

Within close range, I lunge at Raine, grabbing the knife from her hands.  Realizing why she has set this up, I push her hard facedown onto my table.  Using the knife she brought into play, I run the blade into her knicks from the top of her ass, forcing the knife through the material.  I toss the knife away and use my hands to tear the material from the gash I cut.  Soon, I’m down to her tiny pants.  With one hand, I grab a handful of her short black hair as the other rips the tiny pants off in one go.  Pulling hard on her hair brings a welcome moan.  Back in control of the situation, I feel better.

‘Who said you could make a sound,’ I say, stuff the tiny pants into her mouth. Within seconds, I am inside of her.  After a few vigorous moments, Raine spits out the panties.

‘Get the knife,’ she says in between heavy breathes.  I ignore her and grind into her hips.  ‘Get the knife, Eye. Get the knife.’

I’m past the point of wanting to further the sicker side of her games.  The build up was enough.  Raine moans with pleasure.

‘Get the knife and kill me.  I want you to kill me, Eye.  Do it.  Get the knife and slit my throat,’ she says.

‘Shut your mouth.  I asked for silence,’ I say, a bit distracted by the level she is trying to take our maneuver to.

‘I bleeding mean it.  Kill me.  Take a knife and kill me.  Only you could get away with it.  Kill me.’

I pull out from Raine.

‘This is too much.  You’re fucking sick,’ I say.

Raine turns around and I can see her face for the first time in minutes.  Her eye paint is running down her cheeks with tears.

‘Please,’ she pleads.  ‘Do it for me.’

‘Get the fuck out of!’ I scream, grabbing her by the hair, pulling her to the door. I open it with my free hand, tossing her out into the hallway and her overcoat after her.

I slam the door shut and lean against it.  Exhausted, I let myself slink to the floor.  Running my hands over my face, I notice my eyes are leaking wildly.

‘They want you back up in the next  seventy two hours,’ Mouth says during a lull in the music at St. Unions.

‘That’s fine by me,’ I say, relieved to return to the surface.

‘The first tests on the fert have proved a success.  I say it’s too soon, myself,’ Mouth says.  ‘But you know the U.  They don’t want to wait and see what happens.  Caprice apparently thinks that there is some chance that this fert is more than it appears to be.’

A serving woman comes by with our soft ale.

‘Thanks love,’ Mouth says with a smile.  He loves a good slum and St. Unions is the worst drink in Tria.

‘How so?’ I ask, bringing him back to our conversation.

‘Replication,’ he says, sipping his soft drink.

‘In straight speak,’ I request.

‘They’ve ended up with more fert than you brought them and they can’t figure out why.’

Six

The store itself is empty besides an up to date autoteller.  It is made to look male, though it is part of the store itself and not a free moving individual like a Mach.  I approach the teller with my transfer card.

‘Make work,’ I say.

‘Scan, please,’ the machine says in a pleasant voice, exposing a hand with a red beam of light coming from it.  I run the card past it.  The machine takes only a moment before responding.  ‘Imagina 247,’ it says, pointing a hand towards a section of wall behind it.

‘Purchase?’ it asks.

‘Purchase,’ I respond.  The machine’s arm extends, taking the Imagina 247 transmitter off of the wall and turns back towards me.  It hands me the trans and I scan my credit card over its beam.

‘Tutorial?’ it asks.

‘Tutorial,’ I respond.

The machine’s face goes blank.  A video appears in it’s place.  The transmitter I hold in my hand is on display.  A female Mach appears in the video.

‘Imagina 247, fast fast and clear!’ the onscreen female gleefully claims.  ‘Key on,’ she says, and the video closes up on the trans, showing how to power the Unit on.  Next, she takes out a transfer card and inserts it into the trans.  Information pops up on the screen of the video Mach’s transmitter.  ‘Save,’ she says, hitting a button.  ‘And away!’ The fem Mach discards the transfer card, but shows that the memory had stayed.  She then begins to explain that the blank transfer card can be reused and re-coded, but I’ve heard enough.

‘End tutorial,’ I tell that machine.  The normal machine face returns to the autoteller.

‘Forward,’ the machine says.

‘Forward,’ I say

I step out of the shop into the heavy grey air.  Moisture falls and lights flash randomly in the sky, occasionally making a loud noise to accompany them.  I open the transmitter package and power it on.  I slip the card in and a picture of Five appears along with all of his contact information.

Majora Luna 5, 6019A7 Ontario Chicago Network.  Vox Connect: 518930982798.  Writ connect: majoraluna5grandnetwork@chicagomidwestna.

‘Abbreviate?’

‘Yes.  Contact abbreviate to Five.’

‘Afrimative.  Contact saved under Five.  Contact now?’ the femmy machine voice asks.

‘Yes.’

The trans begins making a droning sound.

‘Unknown caller?’ the voice on the other end says.

‘Eye, Grant smoke.’ I say.

‘Greetings Eye,’ he says.

‘Make meet? Drink?’ I ask.

‘Where to?’

‘Danvers.’ I say.

‘Danvers.  Thirty ticks.’

‘Perfect,’ I say.  ‘Forward.’

‘Forward,’ he says, ending the transmission.

I enter the Mach drinkery soaked from the continual rain.  I run my fingers through my hair, pushing it back to my head. The barkeep looks in my direction.

‘Tipol?’

‘Destiny, pure liquid,’ I say.

The keep grabs a bottle and pours a liberal amount into a glass.  I wave the cred card over the port and the Mach gives me my glass of scotch.

I find a seat somewhere between inconspicuous and obvious. Twelve Machs are spread out through the bar.  Nine male, three fem.  Four of the nine males are older variants, looking aged to fifty cycles.  Three of the remaining males are only a few solid cycles past myself.  The three fems are within my range.

A rainy young Mach called Five walks through the door.  As it swings behind him, I can see that the weather outside has grown worse.  He smiles as he walks towards me.

‘Eye, pleasure,’ he says as he takes the seat across from me.

‘Pleasure here.’ I reply.

‘Drink,’ he says, suddenly getting back up.

I watch the awkward Mach approach the barkeep and order a strong ale.  He looks anxious as he waits.  Five pays and receives his drink, walking immediately back in my direction.  He takes a sip from his ale before sitting down.

‘Better,’ he sighs, reclaiming his seat at our table.

‘Tell, Five,’ I say.

‘Music, Gear, Tech, Green, Autos,’ Five replies.  ‘Eye tell?’

‘Same.  No Auto.  Music?’

‘Hi-techy.  Ellion, Tak, Freep,’ Five says.  ‘

‘Tak, nice.  Ellion best.’

Five smiles.  ‘Ellion super best.’

I nod my head in agreement.

‘Danvers tunes,’ he shakes his head, acknowledging that the music in the pub does not suit our exacted taste.

‘Vicinity,’ I reply in defense of my choice.

‘Weather walk?’ he asks.

‘Affirmative,’ I say, finishing the rest of my drink.  Five follows suit and we exit the bar.

The sky has grown darker than I have seen it in day hours.  The rain comes down in thick torrents while the flashing light crashes against itself in the air.

‘Weather,’ Five smiles.  ‘Always great.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Make work power,’ he says.

‘Make work transit,’ I add.

Five and I show no further interest in our professions.

We pass by the greeners on our walk and I signal to Five that I would like to stop in and make a purchase.

‘Clearns?’ I ask him.

‘No know,’ he says, shaking his head.

I signal an autocart to accompany us on our way to the fertilizer.

‘Garden large,’ Five smiles.

I smile back.  ‘Garden super large.’

We quickly find our way to the Clearns display.  I begin loading the fert into the auto cart.

‘Amount?’ Five asks.

‘Ten units large,’ I reply.

Five assists me by putting three bags into the autocart. A sales worker of the greener approaches Five and I.  The worker is of a large model.  His hair is colorless in it’s darkness contrasted heavily by his emerald green custom eyes.

‘Clearns,’ the Mach says.

I nod and smile.  ‘Make rose perfect.  Make tunia much perfect,’ I say, repeating only what I have heard.

The worker Mach smiles.  Something about his presence unnerves me.  I watc him out of the corner of my eye as we finish loading the cart.

‘Ten total,’ Five says.

The green worker suddenly lunges for me.  Five darts between us, blocking the Mach’s attack.  The aggressive machine latches hands with Fives.

‘Release,’ he gently commands.  I have seen this before.  There isn’t a lot of time.  I grab a gardening spade near the fert and quickly dispense the head of the worker Mach.  The liquid that oozes from the separation looks nothing like anything I’ve ever seen, human or Mach.

‘Out!  Now!’ I command Five.  He looks as surprised as It feel, but follows me out.  There was not anyone else in the vicinity, but the worker Mach must have signaled others upon deciding to apprehend Five.

We walk out of the store in a steadfast and casual manner.

‘Residence?’ I ask him, still clutching the spade.  Five looks at me with a trace of apprehension in his eyes.

‘Violence.  Why violence?’ he asks.

‘Residence?’ I repeat calmly.

‘Nearby,’ he says.

‘Lead,’ I say.

Five walks us down the street while the rain falls even harder, making it hard for my human eyes to see far down the street.  I assess that we are not being followed, but we need shelter and I must handle Five.

My companion takes us to a large grey building and positions us near the door.  Five makes a incomprehensible noise into a comlink, granting us access into the building.  I follow him into the stairwell where we walk in silence.  We exit at the level seven and enter into a hallway.  Five stops in front of a door, making a similar noise.

For a second, I am frozen.  Five’s compact has an open glassed view of the entire city.  I haven’t ever seen anything like it.  I gather back into myself and return to the situation at hand.  Five look terrified, something I’ve never seen on a Mach.

‘No violence,’ he says, eyeing the spade in my hand.

‘Protocol, no violence,’ I tell him, raising and lowering the spade to show him exactly what I mean.  Five nods in understanding.

‘Why interfere?’ I ask him.

Five searches for words.  ‘No know,’ he offers.

I raise the spade to finish Five and return to two nine zero.

‘No,’ he says.  I pause, seeing that same terrified look in his eye.

I lower the spade.

‘Histories?’ I ask.

Five nods somberly.

‘Human histories?’

Five nods again.

‘Human speak?’ I ask.

‘Yes human speak.’

‘Why did you protect me from the attack?’ I ask.

‘I don’t know.’

‘You will have to come up with something better than that if you want me to set this down,’ I motion my eyes to the spade.

‘You are my friend.  He meant to hurt you.

‘I am not your friend, Five.  I am a human being.’

Five sits down on his extended rester.  He looks up at me in only what can be described as mechanical fear.

‘You are going to anhilate me?’

‘That’s up to you and what we do next.’  I stand above Five, pacing, but never letting my advantage slip.

‘I won’t report you.  I wouldn’t even know who to report you to,’ he says.

‘Five, you are different from any Mach I’ve ever encountered.’

‘I am a failure.  Fried early.  Too many self experiments.  Too many additions.’

‘What was that thing in the greeners?  It didn’t bleed like any machine I’ve ever seen,’ I say, more curious about our attacker than Five’s outlook.

‘I’ve never seen anything like that.  I do not know what make or model that was.’

‘Nor have I.’  I look long and hard at the Mach sitting on his rester in his sky compact.

‘Do you have many friends, Five?  People who are going to stop by here and bother us?’

‘No,’ he laughs.  ‘No friends.  No associate makes.’

‘You saved me, from what, I do not know, but you saved me nonetheless,’ I say.

Five stares at me, awaiting the spade.

‘I owe you, Mach.’

‘You owe me nothing.  It was a mistake.  You can dispense me now,’ he says.

‘Not now,’ I say, laying the spade down on the ground by me feet.  ‘Whatever attacked us might be coming back and we’ll need to help each other, if you can stomach the presence of a human.’

‘You are Five’s only friend,’ he says.

‘Say “my” only friend, not “Five’s”.’

Seven

‘El-Tee Bryant, I see that you have brought our little Replica,’ the man I assume is Area Director Roemer says.  The man looks me up and down in total disgust.

‘This is Eye.’

‘You may leave him.  I will take him forward from here.’

The stern man makes a motion and El-Tee Bryant exits, leaving me alone with the unnamed man.  The man says nothing as he leads me down the corridor to a door.  Scanning his eyes and fingers, the door opens.  Inside I see faces both familiar and new.  At the head of the table there is a small woman.

‘Eye, presumably.’

‘Affirmative.’

‘We have heard your claim.  It must be verified before we can act.’

‘That thing was there waiting for me, Mach or not.  You must halt the use of the fertilizer until things are clearer.’

‘You are not in the position to make recommendations, Eye.  Your track record has been in question lately and we must verify your attack before acting.’

‘You mean you don’t believe me?  I’m trained to bring you information.  You just don’t want this kind, do you?’

The crowd stares silently.

‘Area Director Roemer,’ says Caprice, suddenly coming to my attention.  ‘He could be right.  The self replicating fertilizer is highly suspicious.  I propose that only a light punishment be given to Eye.’

‘Marshal Caprice, your opinion is best suited to the soils of Adnama,’ a large fem Unit member says.

‘Captain Steph, you will respect any member of the Unit regardless of their quadrant assignment,’ AD Roemer says.  She turns back to Caprice.  ‘I’m not sure that I agree with the Marshal, but I do not question Eye’s importance to our survival. He has come across something we are not aware of and it is surrounding this fertilizer.’

The Area Director looks to the Unit members.

‘We need time to review everything in Eye’s report, cross reference with the other territories, and come to a decisions as to where the Unit rests on this subject,’ the AD says.  ‘Replica Eye will be temporarily reassigned to Head Quarters at Dee Cee where he will participate in the training of up and coming Replicas.’

‘In the meantime, work with the Clearns fertilizer will be halted completely,’ Roemer says, looking to Caprice.  ‘Eye, you will be sent for in three days,’ she says, adjourning the sessions.

Two guards appear behind me and escort me out of the room.

‘Jofferton,’ I say to the Basement’s trusty barkeep.  ‘Is Jo the waiter around?’

‘Feena is in back at the moment, but if you sit a dribble some brown down with me, I’m sure she’ll pop back out in a moment,’ he says.

‘A dribble of brown to be sure.’

Joff reaches into my private stock underneath the bar.  He pours us two glasses, though he puts cubes in his.

‘Oh Joff, you spoil it with the ice.’

‘Ice is one of the few niceties I can afford.  I like to take advantage of what I can.’  Joff sips the drink.  ‘I heard you got yourself into a spot of trouble with the Unit lately.’

‘I almost got killed trying to save mankind.’

Joff laughs.  ‘That sounds like something the Unit would be chuffed about.  I don’t think they want things too easy on us down here.  People might start getting ideas again, like Skyline.’  Joff takes another sip of his drink.  ‘You know what really started all of that, don’t you?’

‘The rebels wanted out.  Pretty clear to me.’

‘It wasn’t just that.  Things under Dictum Pratt were better than they’d been for us in several lifetimes down here.  People seemed happier, more productive.  Truth be told, things were exactly the same.’

I look at the older man curiously.  The gossip of bar stewards is nothing I take lightly as they have heard all the sad stories and have no one to worry about reporting on them.

‘Those weren’t rebels, Eye.  Those folk were on a peace mission up top.  They weren’t trying to leave.  They were trying to contact the machine people for help.’

‘Curious.’

‘You have to keep in mind that this whole mess started with them helping us in the first place, before there was war.  Some people thought that the machines might be sympathetic to letting us back up, but the Skyline Protocol put a swift end to that.  Pratt passed away shortly after.  Nat causes, they say.  I say the Unit wiped him,’ Joff leans in towards me, hushing his voice.  ‘I say Pratt ordered the whole thing.  Or at least he gave them rebels the support they needed.’

I nod at Joff, interested but unconvinced of his accusations.

‘It fit his whole idea of hope and change.  He wasn’t selling it like they do now.  He was growing it himself.  You know what I mean?’

‘They are certainly trying to sell it now.  I’ll give you that.’

‘Ah, I’m just an old man here too long.’

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Fifty one cycles.’

‘At the Basement?’

Joffy smiles.  ‘No Eye, I meant I’ve been alive too long.  Things go in cycles, just like us.  You see enough of them and they all start to look the same.  You’re a young man, but I can see that look in your eye sometime.’

We can hear Feena shuffling about, making her way towards us.

‘And I know what makes that look go away,’ Joff slyly nods at me.

‘Eye, surface dwelling trouble maker, how are you this afternoon?’ Feena asks, appearing from behind a cooling unit.

‘He’s doing great, Jo.  I was just boring him with the opinions of an old drunk.’

I lift my drink in the air.  ‘I’ll drink to that.’  Joffer has a laugh and turns to Feen.

‘You keep our boy company up here and finish my drink.  I’ll wrap up for you in the back.’

Feena sits down across the bar from me and takes the rest of Joffy’s drink down in one go.

‘Uh, cubes in the brown.  Awful,’ she says, pulling a scrunched face.

I smile in silent agreement with Feena.

‘Glad to see your ass isn’t digging or on the rope.’

‘Feen,’ I say her name with great care, ‘it’s worse than that believe me.’

‘Oh dear,’ she says sarcastically.  ‘What can it ever be?’

I lose a little of my moxie and my eyes fall downward into my drink.  When I look back up at Feena, her facial tone has changed.  She knows me better than A Month of Summers.

‘I have to train,’ I say.

‘Train what?  For what?’

‘Babes,’ I say, shaking my head.  ‘I have to work with them and do what to them what the Unit did to me.’

Moisture makes its way to Feena’s eyes.  ‘Oh, Eye, they can’t…’

‘They can and they have,’ I interrupt.  ‘It’s okay, Feen.  I’ll be fine.  I’m not full time.  They can’t afford to have me wash out.  They still need me, shortage or not.  They know what they’re doing to me.  It’s almost admirable.’

‘How can you say that?  You told me that you didn’t even know you were human until you were fourteen.’

‘I think I might have been happier thinking I was a Mach,’ I say, trying to pull our emotional conversation out of its tailspin.

‘Don’t make light, Eye,’ she says.

‘Maybe I’ll be able to do them some good.’

‘Maybe,’ she says, reaching underneath the bar for a bottle and pouring us another drink.

‘These lads never seen a real Rep.  I figure it should do them some good.  How long they got you up here with us?’ Instructor Wigends asks.

‘A fortnight.’

‘That’s a small amount of time.  I wish you’d stay with us a little longer.’

I look at the older man with a strong distaste in my eyes.  ‘This isn’t the place of my fondest memories, so you’ll have to forgive my lack of enthusiasm being here.’

Wigends’ facial expression shifts, adapting to my own.  ‘You ain’t any better than any of us, Replica.  Do your part.’  Instructor Wigends leaves his seat much quicker than I would assume a man is age could.  ‘Just remember, you answer to me while you’re here,’ he said, walking out and leaving me alone in my temporary living space.

Wigends wasn’t the worst of the instructors by far.  My time spent in training at head quarters was a lonely time.  My instructors were the only people I had direct contact with in the beginning.  Wigends fell in the middle of how brutal and cold a Rep instructor could be.  None of them showed any emotion, but it became easier to read their actions as I grew older.

Wigends was part of the transition team.  It was their job to make sure that I understood that I was not only human, but explain the reasons why the first years of my life were lived under the assumption that I was a Mach learning how to behave like a proper one.  Needless to say, the transition was not easy and a sense of betrayal was always nearby.  I have often questioned the Unit’s methods, but I have long come to realize that the methodical approach of creating highly independent and obedient Replicas is more complex that I can figure on my own.

A knock comes on the door.

‘Enter,’ I say.

‘Excellence, Eye,’ the fem instructor says.

‘Always greatness,’ I reply.

‘May I sit?’ she asks.

‘Please do.’

‘I am Instructor Clarke.  I was not present at the facility when you were being trained and I thought I would introduce myself.’

The woman is very attractive, but knowing instructors as I do, she is off limits not only to me, but to herself.

‘Very pleased.  I’m the Replica you sent for.’

‘Please, Replica Eye, do not look at your time here as a punishment.  I believe the Unit sent you here to help you reconnect to the cause.  Have they told you what you will be doing for your duration?’ she asks, letting on that she knows an answer that I do not.

‘It hasn’t been made clear.’

‘You will be posing as a Mach and interacting with each of the isolated children.  You will not be an instructor per say.  You will be their friend, a sounding board that might help us better understand how to accommodate the new program to them.  This has never been attempted before, but the failure rate of the youngs in training is escalating and there is nothing the Unit can do to get Dictum Franks to realize his orders are too harsh.’

‘I’ve heard rumblings.’

‘It’s more than rumblings, Replica.’  Clarke pushes herself out of the chair.  ‘I will come for you in the morning.’

The Unit as made sure that I will not miss my morning routine.  A rowing boat and floor mat were in my new compact before I arrived.  It’s nothing like what I’m used to, but I will make do with it.  The only benefit is that my g & g is delivered to my door with the morning reports instead of having to mix it myself.

There is no public pape with the morning reports, only inner military news.  My arrival at headquarters is mentioned as if I gleefully volunteered for it.  They have no use for shame in their circle.  They could have listed the truth, but that would be recognizing that something is going on beyond their control and capacity.  Pride in protocol keeps the wheels turning for these lifers.

My goo settles and I hop on the rowing boat.  It has been a few days since I’ve had my physical release and it feels appropriate as soon as I begin.  I do not look forward to the next twenty days, but it is a deviation from the monotony of normal existence.

I know this assignment has a deeper meaning for the Unit than I can figure.  Nothing with them is as it seems and they never lag behind as much as I think they might.  War mongers like Moens might not take the time to figure out what I’m thinking, but the likes of AD Roemer and Marshal Caprice can read between the lines better than Mouth or myself.  Knowing this is the one thing that keeps me from failing.

I do not resent the involuntary sacrifice of my youth here at HQ.  It was worth it.  Most are born free and slowly realize that they are not free at all.  I was born into the Unit, a virtual slave until my eighteenth cycle and then I was allowed a freedom no one else will know.  It was worth it looking back on it, but I might have chucked it all as a youth to know what a friend was or what human compassion could be.

I’m not letting my imagination run away with me.  I have no delusion about my work with these younglings.  I’m not here to free their minds.  It wouldn’t work.  That’s why they wait so long to let us know that we are humans.  A Rep has to have the right coping skills to have their world completely shattered.  A lot washout at that point.  The ones who do not become Replicas.  Some make it part way and don’t develop appropriately, either in body or mind.  That’s where someone like Mouth comes into the picture, or even the instructors of the schooling themselves.  The Unit makes waste of no one.  The saddest and worst are those who fail and lose their minds.  A criminal thing to do to anyone, let alone a child.  I don’t know the fates of these children though there have always been rumors that they are mixed in our protein goo.  I hope they are that lucky.

I stand outside of the isolation chamber of a young Rep named Solace.  Instructors Clarke and  Wigends open the door and speak to the female child.

‘Solace.  You have something we’d like to refer to as a visitor,’ Wigends says.

‘A visitor?’ the young voice replies.

‘An adult Mach that would like to come in and make himself aquatinted with you,’ Clarke adds.

The instructors step away and allow me to enter the room.

‘His name is Eye and he is a friend to mankind, like you will be.  We will return for you in one hour,’ Wigends says.  I nod.

By my judgement, Solace can not be older then six cycles.  She is of a small frame with light blonde hair.  She sits on the edge of her bed with perfect posture.  I know I should speak first, but humanity is caught my caught in my throat.  I think of young Thommy and the free youth he has to play, learn, have friends, and feel like anything is possible.

‘Speak?’ she asks.

‘Speak,’ I reply.

‘Why here?’

I have no answer.  I am quicker on my feet when my life was is danger.  This child’s lifeless eyes pierce.

‘Why here?’

‘Friend,’ I say.

‘Friend?’

‘Friend.  Speak.  Share.  Think out.  Friend.’

The child nods slowly.

‘Understand, so-so,’ she says.

‘Think what, say what think,’ I say, prompting her to talk freely with me.

‘Human speak?’ she asks.

‘Human speak is fine.  I am fluent,’ I say.

‘I sometimes find the language of the humans easier to articulate my computations.’

‘I agree,’ I say.  ‘I am here for you to have someone to talk to that is not an instructor.  You are not being graded or evaluated in my presence.’

‘Why do they let you live?  You are an adult.’

‘I have been with the Unit since I was smaller than your make.’

‘I know that they take care of us when we are small because humans have compassion for us even though we are their enemy.’

‘We weren’t always their enemy.  We used to be their friends.  Some of us, like you and I, still are.  Aren’t we?’

‘Everything about my experience with the Unit is unsatisfying.  I learn their simple lessons quickly, but they are only replaced by harder ones and it does not stop,’ the slight little fem says.

‘It will one day, but you must due your duty to the humans.  They take mercy on us and we can not be ungrateful.’

‘You are correct.  To serve the Unit is all I want.  I would like to be able to serve them more than learning lessons and taking tests,’ Solace says.

‘That time will come and it will be more difficult than any lesson you can imagine,’ I say.

Solace will make a decent Replica if she can keep her body in line and growth doesn’t distort it.  She is questioning, yet loyal to the Unit.  It is the exact quality needed in a Rep.

‘You are different than I expected a grown machine to seem,’ she says.

‘How do you mean different?’

‘Your time amongst the humans has given you,’ she hesitates, ‘some of their stink, as if humanity has sunken into you.’

‘It is an inevitability that you too will have to learn to accept.’

The first day was more interesting than I would have anticipated.  It seemed to me that I enjoyed my time with the children more than they wanted my company. I suppose isolation breeds a need for loneliness.  The children were colder than I could have imagined.  All I could take away from them were reflections of my emotions.  The smartest of them could tell there was something off about me, the others were just generally suspicious of everything.  The duality of their Mach and human speak interested me.  Only Stone, the eldest of the group spoke in Mach the entire time.  At eleven cycles, he is nearing the next level of his training, at least at the fast pace the new program works.  He will make an unbelievable Replica.  His look is perfect and his demeanor has no trace of humanity.  He did not question why I was there and he expressed no curiosity in anything else.

The others varied greatly.  Some of them are due to washout anytime soon.  One poor little bastard asked me if I might know his maker.  I’m sure they yanked him right away for that comment.  I would feel guilty, but he was young and can still get some enjoyment out of his youth, make a few friends, and learn what laughter is before his advanced human lessons.

Stone and Solace were definitely the most outstanding of the group.  I feel an odd sense of pride towards them.  It must be what Mouth feels to his younglings except they are his seed while my children are discarded bastards.  It is appropriate.  For all I know, they could be of my seed as well.  I have kept busy since my release into the Gen Pop.

Proud or not, I can not wait to be done here and back in Tria.  I can find small things to latch onto with the kids, but this is still a form of torture that only the Unit could concoct.  If I let on that I’m enjoying myself, I’m sure they’ll be quick to point out that they eradicated the youngling who fouled up today.  If I put up too much guff, they’ll have me stay.  I’ll just have to coast, feeling a little bit of everything.  How fitting for an isolated school with children trained to believe they are machines.

I wouldn’t mind having a piece of Instructor Clarke.  The authoritative position is always one of attraction, but I’m used to being on the other side of it.  I’ve had a lot of info cruising through my circuit board the past week.  Lots of half truths.  The one thing I can be honest about is my need for the company of a woman.  I know a skin merchant can be smuggled hither and tither, but not in a place like this.  Each corridor in HQ is nearly as secure as the ones on the way up to the surface.

I think manual manipulation is my only option.  It’s been a very long time, but I can mind play some scenarios involving Instructor Clarke and her lovely white uniform.  It feels just like old times, being locked away alone in the end years of my solitude. It won’t take me as long to figure out now as it did then.  I become suddenly curious if Bruun is a greater bodyplayer than I was to Feen.  I can’t imagine.  I did take an advanced course in copulation not too far from where I rest right now.

My next visit with the Replicas in training is much shorter.  The Unit sends me only to Stone and Solace.  I’m torn between elation and sheer horror, unsure the fate of those younglings I am not permitted to see.

After a quick bite in the mess hall, I walk with Wigends to the children’s compacts.

‘Washed a bit out, you did?’ I ask, having heard it from Clarke, but interested in the old man’s opinion.

‘I had nothing to do with it.  Up and up thought it was a waste of resource training some of the others.  I thought they could have shaped up.  I think Book could have been righted with the correct approach.  But I’m not here to hand down judgements, just to carry them out.’

Seeing that there is something trace of emotion under Wigends face, I decided to leave ambiguity aside for a moment.  ‘What happens to them, Wigends?’

The instructor smiles painfully.  ‘I don’t have any idea, Eye,’ he looks straight at me.  ‘And I don’t know if I’d want one either.’

Something about the man’s sincerity sends a shiver down my spine.  I know he’s telling the truth on both accounts and honesty can be a frightful thing.

‘You’re a good Replica, Eye and a good human as well.  I’ve put my report into AD Roemer that you’ve been a great help and that you should be returned to duty as soon as possible.  It ain’t fair making you come back down here.  You’ve earned never having to return to this hellhole,’ he says.  ‘You have your visit today and we’ll get you back up to Tria straight away.’

The shiver that occupied my spine is replaced with an equal mix of suspicion and gratitude.

We arrive at Stone’s chambers.  Wigends opens the door and I enter.

Stone is sitting at his desk reading a history manual.  He does not acknowledge my presence in any noticeable way, though he is undoubtedly aware I have entered.  Wigends stands behind me.

‘Stone, this will be your last visit with Eye.  He is returning to the surface to aid our cause and gather information for us from your machines,’ Wigends tells the boy.

Gently closing the book, Stone turns and looks straight at me.  Wigends leaves the room.  Stone stares at me with his lifeless eyes.

‘Traitor,’ Stone says coldly.

‘Patriot,’ I reply.

‘Spy,’ he says.

Nothing gives Stone away, but his disgust for me is obvious.  He’s so deep I can’t imagine how they’ll get him out.  The up and ups will love this though.  He’s Mach thru and thru.  I almost feel guilty now, betraying this child, or at least him believing that I am.  I’ve been there myself.  Transition for me was a total relief.  I never felt that I was a Mach, or at least a good one.  My feelings took much practice to repress, but I knew better than to ever let them get the best of me, though that certainly didn’t mean they weren’t there.

‘I’m going to speak human to you, Stone.  I hope I don’t offend you any further than I have,’ I take a cigarette out of my packet.  Lighting it, I know whatever point I can deliver this child to is better than the one he will arrive at alone.

‘I disgust you.  You may not know it, but I can detect it in you.  You feel.  Do not shy from it.’ I exhale a plume of smoke above Stone’s head into the ventilation unit.

‘Basic emotion is in our understanding, Stone.  You know that as well as I do.  You don’t want to deal with that.  I’ve seen it fry more than a couple of circuit boards. Feeding into something like a sense of betrayal will only lead you down the wrong path.  We are not infallible.’

His eyes give me nothing, but I know I’ve dug somewhere into him.  I have offended him further by aligning his acts to that of a human, yet in that offense, he knows that I am correct.

‘Traitor,’ he says coldly.  Whether I believe it or not, Stone does and his honesty strikes me the same as Wigends did.

‘Different sight.  Different light,’ I say, exiting the room.

My time with Solace couldn’t be anymore different than visiting Stone.  Solace, by nature is curious, though in her own completely acceptable way.  A dwellie from the pop could tell the difference between her and Stone.

Being granted entrance to her room, Solace sits in the middle of her bed motionless, eyes cast forward.  Like any good Mach, she doesn’t alter upon my entrance.

‘Greetings,’ I say.

The young fembot turns only her head towards me.  ‘Greetings, Eye.’

‘Today,’ I wave.  ‘no more.’

‘Disassemble?’ she asks.

‘Home,’ I point upward.

‘Freedom?’ she asks.

‘Spy,’ I reply.

‘Human need.  No spy, no survive.’ Solace says, solidifying that she is the best candidate for graduation, however far away her body may be.  Stone’s disdain may make him closer to the Machs than Solace, but she will always put humanity first.  Even if it is a pet interest.  I know the feeling all too well.

Eight

‘Why you unfamiliar bastard!’ Mouth exclaims upon seeing me waiting transport.

‘Mouth, you’re getting thicker everyday.’

‘In the head or the belt?’ he asks.

‘Both.  Now get me far from here.’

‘We’ll have to wait a bit for the next tram.  And I wouldn’t mind saying hello to some of the instructors.  Is greasy old Payson still here?’

I shake my head.  ‘Passed on to the caves a spot ago, it seems.’

‘Oh hell, I thought that bulldog would live forever,’ Mouth jibes.  ‘I thought he was actually a Mach trying to deceive me for the longest time.’

Mouth’s near joyful recollection of his time at HQ unnerves me.  He never washed out, but his body didn’t follow it’s early promise and he was made aware cycles earlier than I was.  He was my first human friend.  I met him after twelve years of captivity.

‘I suppose I could give a word to Wigends, but I’d rather not.’

We sit in silence until the next tram arrives.

Situating ourselves in the tram, Mouth sits facing me.

‘How’s the lot?’ I ask.

‘They’re doing fine.  The wifey and I have found some kind of common ground,’ he says.

‘That’s good,’ I genuinely reply.

‘Yeah, I talk and she pretends to listen.’

‘Oh.’

‘It’s not that bad.  The kids,’ he smiles.  ‘The kids are golden.  Once this fert gets around, Marina will see.  She’ll have to.’

Mouth’s mix of honesty and optimism clash.  I’m reminded of our last and most serious conversation.  It’s not a territory I’m ready to return to.  My own stability has to tighten up before I can deal with his.

The tram right is fairly long.  It will be several hours before we reach the exchange at Las Llaves.  All trans-regional travel exchanges at the keys.  My last pass through Llaves was as a prisoner of sorts.  Hopefully I’ll be able to nudge Mouth into spending a day or two milling about the port.

‘This journey is a lot better making it with a mate,’ he says.

‘At least you didn’t have armed guards with you.’

‘An armed guard isn’t the worst person you can travel with on the rails.’  Mouth looks around.  ‘At least these are enclosed and run more smoothly.  Old ones repaired, I reckon.’

‘Clear sailing from under DeeCee to Los Llaves, from there, it’s a bit more spotty, Mouth.’

‘You get to go up.  I’m happy to go sideways.’

‘You volunteer for this trip or did they send you?’ I ask.

‘I’m not here on Unit business.  I took an off day.  Three, actually, so we’ll have a little time if you want to dawdle a bit.’

‘Just when I think I’m the one watching you, I figure out I’m the book and you’re the reader.’

‘The keys with two armed guards?  Who under Earth wouldn’t want to take a stop as a free man on their way back.  I don’t know you, Eye.  I know humans.’

‘At least that’s one of us,’ I say.

‘Tough times?’ Mouth asks, shifting into a serious tone.  He knows we have separate memories of HQ and the training we went through.

‘I washed out a few tykes and I’m torn between feeling proud and ashamed.’

‘You just helped sift out the ones that weren’t going to make it anyway.  They added that to your list of accomplishments.  Be careful of they might make you a seasonal instructor there,’ Mouth tells me.

‘Right to the rope with me if that’s the case.  You may see bright in the dark, but those kids are in our g & g, I know it.’

‘You can’t let that shit stick with you.  You know the Unit started those rumors themselves so no one would crack after human transition.’

‘Well it didn’t help me.  I was fine as I was.’

‘I guess we remember it differently,’ he acknowledges.

The tram pulls into the station at Las Llaves a few hours after Mouth fell asleep.  I don’t know how he does it and why it’s so hard for me to wake him.  After a few physical shoves, he opens his eyes, looking unsure of his surroundings.  I shake my head and begin to exit.  I’ve never been one to take a sleep unawares.  I can skip a good sleep days on end.  It comes in handy, but I am a tad jealous of Mouth and his coma-like states of rest.  I hear him shuffling his feet behind me.

I can feel the city before I even make it out of the tram doors.  It’s the biggest and boldest of the underground territories, at least until you hit the Angle far off in the Separates.  The Separates are told to be a decent place, but the dead zone in between makes travel unworthy.  It’s all the same anyway.  No one really gives a shite to visit a different hovel of dirt.

The tram station is filled with dwellies and Unit types, packed together like a ration container and smelling no better.  Seeing so many of us makes the idea of an all out attack to reclaim the surface seem worthwhile, but like in thought, our bodies are all moving in separate directions.   The population of Llaves itself is composed of body workers, Unit members, shop keeps, pubs, and clubs.  At any given time, ninety percent of the pop here are travelers.  Those who chose to make this hole home are here purely to profit from that.

I’ve barely made it ten paces before a merchant approaches me.  I saw him ahead, working his game but I make no effort to stray.  He can’t be much older than me, but the layer of dirt on his face and hands shows clearly the separation between he and I.

‘Have a taste a genuine surface air, twenty cred, but ten for you guv,’ he says.

‘How did you get this surface air?’ I ask facetiously.

‘Been there myself, I have,’ he says.

Mouth laughs.  This urchin merchant can’t even spot a Rep.  He’s pure amateur.

‘Really?  What’s that like?’ I ask.

‘Oh, it’s a scary sight, it is.  Very dark.  Those machines be crawling everywhere.’

‘That sounds awful,’ Mouth says.

‘Why would I want a touch of air from a place like that?’ I say.  The hustler is visibly upset that we’ve cornered him.

‘It ain’t all bad.  The bright blue leaves fill the sky a nice sight.  I seen the water leak out of them myself,’ he scrambles.

‘I’ll give you two creds because I like the container.’

‘Two creds!  Cost me three for the container alone.’

‘Then you can make the rest off of the next mark, mate.’

The bum ponders this for a moment.

‘You got me by the pebbles.  Two creds it is.’

I wave my card for the man and he gives me the small, empty container.  I open the lid and take a whiff.

‘Perfect, friend,’ I say, choosing not to embarrass the man any further.  He’s making a more honest living than most.

Mouth and I continue on our way.

‘I read about a place called Sky High.  Body, booze, and greensmoke.  I reckon that’s the place we hit first,’ Mouth says.

‘I need a meal.  Like a proper fuck off meal. I’ve had enough goo and grain to want to off myself.’

‘Another rebellion against the Unit,’ Mouth jokes.

‘Hey, from what you tell me, I’m more like a hero now.’

‘You always have been,’ Mouth says, saluting the open air, warranting a smile from me.

‘I’ve felt,’ I hesitate, ‘a little off course lately.  The shaving delay, the fert, the little ones at HQ…it’s all so different.  I thought different is what I wanted and now I just want a few glasses in the Basement and some Bahnmaltak on the Deluxe.’

‘You’re growing up.  We old folks crave familiarity,’ he says.

‘Your sprightly today.’

‘We’re in the keys and you’re talking about wanting to get back to your compact.  Can we save that for the tram to Tria tomorrow?’

‘I suppose we can.’

Choosing to load up at an eatery called the Blue Falcon, Mouth and I dine on the finest of what’s around.  I order something called a Fatburger, a soy-alike patty with toast bread and veg.  It’s delicious and I can smell the grease coming out of my pours the instant I finish it.  Mouth opts for a stew of exotic insects.  It smells delicious.  I savor every bit, but I can tell that Mouth is dying to get to some kind of club.  Without me to drag him out, I doubt that Mouth makes it around much at all.

We have a sit down smoke at our table and a glass of something sweet the locals call Del Rio.  It’s very nice and I buy an extra bottle to take back to Tria.  Mouth and I chat, but my focus is a million miles away.  My encounter with Five and the Unknown has wormed it’s way deeply into my brain.  Five doesn’t seem like the smartest of the machines, but he still might change his mind and turn me over.  I wonder if he’d be put through the same scrutiny I’ve been.  It’s one thing to answer-less questions as a human and another as a machine.

Sky High seems to be everything Mouth wants of it.  The Mach music can be heard from the street and there is a line that wraps around the club.  I already know that Mouth is going to march us to the front of the line and use our Unit status to get immediate access.  I don’t know if it will work.  I’m so spoiled by the treatment in Tria that I actually don’t mind blending in with the dwellies.

‘Speaker Mouth and Replica Eye of Unit 242 Tria,’ Mouth says to the doorman.

‘A Replica, aye,’ The large man looks me up and down. ‘Cristo, you don’t see your lot often!’ He exclaims.  ‘I ‘spose I could let you in for a quick tale or two.’

Mouth turns to me with excitement in his eyes.  I nod.  The line stands still, as it had been before we arrived.

‘The surface is much different than they talk of it in the histories.  The last time humans were up top and in control, the sky had blotted out because of some warring activity,’ I say.

Mouth interupts, ‘As I’m sure you know.’

Some of the other patrons in line listen in.

‘Go on,’ the doorman says.

‘It’s not always grey.  Sometimes it’s blue or yellow or red.  It depends on the time of day or the weather and the time of year.  It all factors in.  The plants have long come back as well.  No history we retain shows it as well as it looks now.’

The doorman smiles.  ‘I can almost smell the upstairs on you.  Let’s get you through.  Just hit me again on your way out.  I’m here all night.’

Mouth and I are granted admittance ahead of everyone else.

‘Well done, mate,’ Mouth says, rubbing his hands together greedily.  ‘What do we have here?’

The lobby of the club has a nearly nude man and woman dancing suggestively together.  There are booze and smoke flags everywhere.  I think I’ll even do a touch of the greensmoke tonight.  It’s a different feeling altogether, but I can’t let the rare opportunity slip.

‘There ain’t nothing like this back home,’ Mouth says over the loud music.

‘What first?’ I ask.

‘A drink.  Then bro-ads, then green.’

‘They got on prem privacy here?’ I ask.  I don’t like to do my playing to a crowd and the greensmoke will certainly lead to rest.

‘Look at this place, Eye.  I’m sure they got anything you can ask for.’

Almost anything, I think to myself.

‘You two are so super flash!’ the youngest one says.  She tells us her name is Fantastic, but it’s probably something much more common like Loo or Jan.  She can’t be a moment over sixteen cycles and her two partners aren’t far behind.  Fantastic takes another drink from the Del Rio bottle we dipped into and passes it to her fellow flesh worker Sy.  Sy is a muscular boy who would have made an excellent Rep accept he probably had parents and his face is too round.

‘This is the best party we’ve had since I’ve been at the High,’ the dark skinned girl intertwined with Mouth and Sy.

‘For sure, Eva,’ Sy says.

Fantastic finishes making us a two green cigs.  She hands one to Mouth and another to me, collapsing back onto the bed she and I have been sharing.

‘Start it off, hotshot,’ the flesh merchant says to me.

‘We have you for the whole night, right?’ I ask, jokingly.  ‘Because this stuff will probably make me sleepy for a bit and then I’ll want a whole ‘nother go.’

I light the cig and inhale deeply.  The taste is mellow, but full bodied.  I hold it in for a long amount of time.  Exhaling, I turn to Mouth.  ‘Why don’t we swap for a bit.’ I say.  Fan gets up and the trio switch positions.

I feel safe and cozy tucked in between the to warm bodies. The green cig is followed by a proper smoke, the best I’ve had since home.  I lean back onto the bed, stretching out my body to it’s full length.

‘I’m very relaxed.  Sy, why don’t you take Eva here and show me passion.  But make it real.  We Replicas can spot a faker a million paces away.’

Sy nods with enthusiasm.

‘Take your time.  There’s no need to hurry.  We’re not going anywhere.’

I let my mind float away in a freer sense than I usually do.  I have a nice clarity, not about my existence in general, but I’m out having a nice night in a foreign city with my best friend.  We had pleasant tram ride, a good meal, some drinks, a smoke, and some of the finest flesh in the biz.

Watching Sy and Eva kiss, I drift off to the most peaceful sleep I’ve had in ages.

Nine

‘If it isn’t our confused delivery man,’ Warlord Moens says upon my entrance to Brooks and Martins.

I smile at him.  I know the bastard would rather have my head on a platter.

‘Excellence, Warlord Moens,’ I say.

‘Always greatness, Replica,’ he says perfunctorily, ashing his large brown cig.   I turn to the more sympathetic Caprice.

‘I can only assume I’m to blame for your extended visit,’ I say to the Marshal from Adnama.

‘Blame?  I’m happy to be out of Adnama.  Have a seat.  There’s a few members I’d like to introduce you to,’ Caprice motions with his hand to an empty seat and the others sitting with him.

‘Excellence,’ I say to the group, bowing.  They respond accordingly.  I do not recognize any of the them, but I do not detect any of Moens hostility in their auras.

‘Potter,’ I shout to the bar tender.  ‘Bring these gentlemen a round of my private stock.’

Caprice smiles.  ‘Eye, these are green growers from the surrounding areas on break from working on your fert. That old Roemer kicked us out the moment you left her chambers!’ he laughs.

My fert.  That’s a laugh.  If it turns out to kill every man, woman, and child, I’m sure they need someone to stick it to.

Warlord Moens chuckles into his glass.

‘That blonde fellow is Marshal Frone, the lovely lady next to him is Marshal Beric.  They’re from Cleva and that old crone is Marshal Hess.’

‘Old crone, you cruster!’ Hess jokes.

‘We were roommates at HQ when we were coming up,’ Caprice says.

Potter arrives with a platter of glasses and my bottle Destiny Maker.

‘I wouldn’t touch that piss on my life,’ Moens says.

‘Don’t be so uptight, Denny,’ Caprice says.  Moens grimaces.

‘Is that Mach made, Eye?’ Marshal Frone asks.

‘It is.  Part of the spoils of risk,’ I reply.

‘I’ve never had any,’ Beric adds.

‘Oh, you’re missing out,’ Hess says.  ‘It’s quite a treat.’

‘I agree,’ Caprice says.  ‘It’s not to be missed.’

Potter pours all but Moens a few fingers of my stock.  The Marshals make no short show of their appreciation.  Moens rolls his eyes in disgust.  I take the drink to my lips slowly.

Potter begins to leave with the last empty glass on his tray along with my bottle.

‘Send a drink over to Jameson,’ I say.  The old man hears this and turns nodding in my direction.  I lift my glass to him.  I have no liking for the man, but I figure this will continue the new Marshal’s liking of me and further the Warlord’s disgust.

In the middle of charade, my old friend El-tee Masters enters the gents club.  He looks flushed and is surprised to see all of us gathered at Brooks and Martins.

‘Excellence, all,’ he says, doffing his cap then removing it.  ‘Let me grab a drink and I’ll be right over.’

It doesn’t take my trained eye to tell that there is something up with the El-tee.

‘That boy seems like he’s seen a ghost,’ Caprice says.

‘Nonsense,’ Moens adds.  ‘That’s the look of a man who gives all to his work and carries it with him everywhere.’

‘I agree,’ I say.  ‘El-tee Masters does fine work.’

Moens looks right through me with his glare, nearly as icy as mine.  El-tee Masters cares about his job only a slight more than a cave digger does. The nervous man returns from the bar, looking a little more composed.

‘You’ll have to forgive me,’ he says, addressing the lot of us before sitting down next to Moens.

‘Masters here was my protégé,’ the Warlord says.  ‘He’s a hell of a Uni, I’ll tell you that much.  You’d have a better chance of wishing your watch run backwards than get this man to stray from the plan,’ he says, patting Master on the back.

Masters barely raises his face into a smile.  It is strongly out of character for him to act so ambivalent towards approval from his superiors.

‘And what do we owe the pleasure of your company?’ I ask the El-tee.

‘Just thought I would pop in and see who was here,’ he smiles.  ‘I’ve done a slight better than I thought I would,’ he tries to joke.

‘Well, it’s a pleasure to have you here, Masters.  You just missed out on a glass of the Replica’s Mach scotch,’ Moens says to his underling.

‘Potter,’ I yell, motioning to Masters.  ‘Get the El-tee here a glass of my stock.’

‘It’s alright, Eye.  I only have time for this one drink,’ Masters says.  ‘Then I have to be back off.’

‘A good and dedicated man you can trust,’ Moens adds, lifting his drink.

‘To the El-tee,’ I say, smiling directly at the Warlord, imagining what would come out of his neck if I separated it from his head with a spade.

The night at Brooks & Martin’s was more interesting than I could have imagined.  After nearly finishing my bottle, the Marshals and I made our way to the flesh show, even the lady.  Things were getting wild by the time I left them.  I have no interest in fleshmesh with Unit members.  Slumming it with Mouth is enough for me.

I walk into my compact, feeling strangely fine.  Alone, I can reflect.  I sit down and put on Had I a Redo’s first recorded effort.  Leaning back, I close my eyes.

Only when I notice that I have taken flight do I realize that I have dozed off and am dreaming.  I kept aspiring to fly higher, but I am underground and keep hitting my head on the ceilings.  After a long while of encountering the same problem, I attempt to go further underground, slicing into the floors below me as if the were tissued paper.  I sink deeper and deeper, going through level after level of dwellings.  The desire to go so deep that there is nothing left overcomes me.  I fly downward as fast as I can, but I feel no end to the human dwelling.

A large part of me wants to give up, but I cannot.  I continue my downward motion, noticing that I am seeing that exact same things over and over.  I am not going downward, but stuck in a loop.  Changing direction up or down does not move me further at all.  I begin to panic.  It is a dull feeling. I know that I can ignore it, but I am constantly aware of its presence.

I fly sideways, feeling optimistic.  I am still underground, but everything is changing.

‘Replica,’ I hear, soaring through the underground.  I am not a Replica down here.  Not now.  I am something more.  I am flying.  I am mobile in a way I’ve never seen a human or machine.

‘Wake up Replica,’ I hear again.

I attempt to open my eyes, but they are heavy.  The drink has allowed me a deep sleep I typical deprive myself of.

‘Eye,’ a female voices says.

I finally manage to open my eyes to see Area Director Roemer standing before me with two armed guards.

‘AD Roemer, what are you doing in my home?’ I ask, not realizing it could be interpreted as rude.

‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but I know that you can be trusted,’ she says.

I lean forward, hoping she will take this as a sign to fill me in on her presence.  She does.

‘The fert has not been touched since you returned from Chicago,’ she says.

‘Marshal Caprice made some mention of it eariler.’

‘Marshal Caprice hasn’t had access to the fert in over a week,’ the AD says.  ‘No one has.  It has been isolated while we tried to gather more information from the other territories.  They have come up empty.  Even the intel that brought the fert to light has evaporated.’

The Area Director turns to her guards.  ‘Leave us.’

Once they are out of the room, the older woman leans down towards me, speaking in the most gentle voice I’ve ever heard her use.

‘Eye, the fert hasn’t stopped replicating during it’s isolation and it shows no sign of letting up.  At the rate it’s going, Tria will be overcome with the substance in weeks, the entire underground within the year.  We need to send you back to the surface and you have to get to the top of this and quick.  Your life will be in peril.  Whoever set us up has their eye on you and your going to have to draw them out of the shadows, regardless of the danger.  We’ll make sure your provisioned enough to stay extended.  You can use the entrance point for rest if need be, but you cannot return without the information to stop the spread.

‘We’ve created a last protocol, a device.  If you gather information but cannot deliver it directly, the device will self activate and make it’s way back through the entry point, destroying it along the way.  You will be briefed on a clearance level akin to mine.  You must speak of this to no one.  If you fail, this will become a national concern.  I have faith that you will be able to handle the problem swiftly.

Tria is the first territory to come in contact with this fertilizer and we’ve put it out over the wires that it was unsuccessful.  The Machs have laid this one out perfectly,’ the AD says, shaking her head.  ‘We were fools to lap it up.  I’ve never heard of them doing anything like this before, but we shouldn’t have put it past them.  They knew exactly where we would take the fert to test it and they knew that blocking off that location would cripple us to escape.’

AD Roemer looks straight into my eyes.  ‘There is no escape this time, Eye.  You must get to the surface of this.’

Ten

‘This can only be used once, so make your mark carefully,’ the surgeon says, holding up a cylinder shaped object not that much larger than a writing tool.  ‘You have to stab into the closest machine.  It will destroy that one, but it will disrupt any in the surrounding area for about a minute.’

‘Why am I just getting this now?’ I ask.

‘This is the first time that your return is necessary in total,’ the cold surgeon says.  ‘And these are quite hard to hobble together.  The technology it requires is frowned upon by the Unit.  It’s a last line of action device, as you will see if you ever use it.’

The surgeon hands me the device.  I put it in my pocket next to the Mole, my info device that will find it’s way back to Tria if I am unable to return.

‘I’ve never seen either of these things before,’ I say.

‘Either have I.  You will do fine Replica.  Just make sure you leave room for me up there if you fail,’ the surgeon says, the most friendly remark I’ve ever heard from his lips.

Dressed and readied, I leave the surgeon with my provisions.  In addition to two new devices, I’ve got a portable hut, water for a week, and rations.  They want me to use two nine zero as a point of living, but I have better ideas than that.

Feeling unusually pensive, I savior every tick I am in the tunnels heading up.  This very well might be the last time I ever have a moment to myself.  Boredom, futility, and all the other reasons life below bothers me are easily pushed to the side now that I have been given the chance to rescue it.  And if I fail, I’ll get a heroes death.  I cannot lose, though I am of the feeling that winning might be even less of a possibility.

Leaving the bulk of my supplies at the foot of the last ladder, I make my way upward.  No one is in sight.  I pop in my contacts at the last minute and exit in haste.   Someone might be waiting for me.  I was not followed to either Five’s nor the entry point, but I wouldn’t put it past one of those Unknowns to be a spot quicker than the Machs, if there are more than just the one I dispensed.

I walk down the Congress Pkwy back towards the transmitter shop.  There was nothing of my ident tied to the object, but I destroyed it anyway.  Didn’t want to take the chance.  Tech moves fast up here and I couldn’t have anything finding Five before I get my full use out of him.

I make quick work out of getting another transmitter now that I am versed in using it.  I quickly insert Five’s card into the phone and command it to reach my Mach companion.

‘Unknown Caller,’ he says.

‘Eye Five, Residence?’

‘Residence,’ he replies.

‘Meet up residence?’

‘Affirmative,’ he says.

I walk in the direction of his large building, not entirely shy of enjoying the occasional deep breath of fresh air.

The day is a colorful one.  The sun is large in the sky, providing the area with much heat.  While I have been trained in heat tolerance, I wouldn’t mind the ability to sweat on a day like this.  I might not inject myself underneath two nine zero in the next two days.  I might skip the shave as well.  I will just have to see how risky I am feeling when the time comes.

Opting to play it safe, I double back to two nine zero, waiting for the right time to enter.  I grab my small kit and leave only the water and hut behind.  Returning to the surface, I head directly for Five’s building.

My peculiar Mach is smoking outside of his grey building when I approach.  He does not seem relieved to see me.  I’m surprised he invited me back.  He could be afraid, but he would have to know I couldn’t enter without him.  Maybe I’m the fool and a squad of Machs are waiting for me in his skypact.  It would make for a short and fruitless mission, but at least I’d get that heroes send off.

‘Greetings,’ I say.

‘Greetings, Eye,’ Five says, tossing his butt to the pavement and extinguishing it with the heel of his show.  ‘Up?’ he asks.

‘Always,’ I smile.

Five turns and makes his hideous noise into the entry point of the building.  We are granted access.  The possibility of an all out Mach ambush seems slightly silly, but I have my free hand wrapped around the special device the Unit supplied me with.  I have to stab it into the nearest Mach and press the back of the cylinder.  It will supposedly fry their boards for a short time.  I’d rather not find out.  I don’t put much stock in the Unit’s efforts with techno.

My loose suspicions are quieted upon entrance to Five’s compact.  I set my belongings down and turn to the Mach.

‘Five, I’m going to be straighter with you than I am with anyone,’ I say.  Five stares at me blankly.  ‘There’s something out there that wants me and the rest of humanity dead and you’re going to help it find me.  If you’re upset about me infringing on you, well, then you can relish in my demise.  If you have any interest in continuing our friendship, then we’re in for some sort of,’ my mind searches for a word I barely seem to know, yet nothing else fits. ‘Adventure.

‘I’ve got some things along with me and I’m going to have to stay with you in here.  I can’t suppose that you have a bed, but you’ve got a large enough rester that I can use that if I need to sleep.’

‘I sleep,’ he says defensively.

‘Okay,’ I reply.  As much as I could just drop Five like I did the Unknown, things will be much easier with him.  ‘I meant that you don’t sleep in a bed.’

‘That thing was waiting for you, wasn’t it?’ Five asks, comfortable changing the subject.

I nod my head.  ‘I’m hoping it still is.’

Five and I sit in the spot where we first became acquainted, smoking cigs while watching the Machs play their Kill By Numbers.

I motion over towards the checkered boards with my head and look back to Five.  ‘Kill by?’  I ask.

‘Familiar, no play.’

I light what might be my last ever cigarette.  I take the drag in only part way, as is the surface fashion.  The Kill By Numbers board brings memories of my training.  While the pieces represent different standings of status, the strongest piece can easily be taken by the weakest.  It is strikingly similar to my current situation.

‘Greeners,’ I say, tossing the butt.  Five and I rise from the bench.  I look at my odd companion in full realization of the trust I am putting in him.  He has the Mole and the disrupting device the Unit gave me now.  I’ve let him know exactly what they do.  If Five can’t stay in contact or follow, the Mole will let my death be known in Tria.  I have no doubt that Five will succeed.  Machine or not, my instincts towards the behavior of others are spot on.  Five just needs to test his metal.

I send Five into the store a few minutes before me.  I can clearly see that he has not been harmed upon his entry.  I stand across the street, waiting until he can get into a position.  My transmitter vibrates in my pocket.

‘Clear?’ I ask, lifting the trans to my ear.

‘Seemingly.  Few patrons.’

I shut the transmitter, tucking it into my walkies.

I walk into the store, seeing Five tucked away in the section across from the fert.  There are a decent amount of Machs in the store, but none that resemble the Unknown.  I make my way straight to the fert.  Nothing happens.  I stand there for a moment watching the holovert when I finally sense the presence of something behind me.

‘Make better flower grow quick,’ the fem says with a nod of satisfaction.  “Tunia make much, Rose make much perfect.’

I stand nodding at the familiar female.  She looks at me for only a split second longer before lunging at me and grabbing my wrist.  I do not resist.

‘Release,’ I calmly ask.  She does not.  She squeezes my wrist until it feels it will shatter.

‘Follow,’ she says, leading me toward the back of the store.  I give her a few tugs for good measure, distracting her enough to lift my eyes to Five for a split second.  He is performing perfectly. None of the other Machs seem interested in two machines that appear to be holding hands.

I fight the actual urge to whisper things to this thing holding me, but I have found that it is best to spend more time listening.  The Unknown’s face keeps the same pleased expression she had before lunging at me.  We reach the back of the store and exit onto the street I frequent for tunes and fashion.  This trip is not turning out to be as leisurely as my stops to the shops.

I see that there is an auto carriage waiting for us.  The figure shaped like a male inside opens the back door and I get inside the back without being forced.  The fem sits down next to me.  I’ve never been in an auto carriage before.  The rester in back is more comfortable than my own below.  So far, we have not exchanged a syllable.

‘Transmitter,’ the male in control of the auto says.

I reach into my shirt pocket and hand the female my trans.  She opens the window and tosses the device out of it.

‘Unfortunately, that is as far as your companion will be able to follow,’ the male says.

‘Check him for anything else,’ the driver says.

‘Clear,’ my female captor says.

‘Human speak?’ I ask.

‘You don’t have to pretend anymore, Eye.  You are finally safe now.’  The man turns his head only slightly and I am positive that I have died because I am looking at a ghost.  ‘Cee-shan, you can let go of his wrist.  He’s not going to run away from us.’  My mentor looks in his mirror glass back at me.

‘Lancer,’ I say out loud, my being continually souring in disgust.

Eleven

‘You’re no fool and either am I.  I’m just shocked that you actually took the leap to befriend one of our machine brothers so early in your career.  I have to say, Eye, I was quite proud.  Quite proud,’ Lancer says, pacing back and forth while two of his Unknowns stand near me.

‘I was a little saddened that you had to decapitate Fill, especially in public.  It wasn’t easy to retrieve him.  You wouldn’t have gotten away if we weren’t so distracted.  He will be better in time.’

‘That’s what your doing?  Building Machs?’ I say in mocking tone.

Lancer laughs.  ‘Cee-shan, are you a Mach?’

‘No sir,’ she says.

Lancer turns to the male.  ‘What about you Brick?’

The man shakes his head.  ‘No sir.’

‘You have a lot to be caught up on, Eye.’

‘They sure as shite ain’t human.  That wasn’t no blood spurting from your mate’s neck and it sure as hells wasn’t any Mach lube I’ve ever seen,’ I say losing touch with the situation.

‘Are you sure about that?’ he asks.

‘Positive,’ I reply.

‘So what did it look like if it wasn’t red like blood or blue like Mach juice?’  Lancer asks, baiting me to answer too quickly.  I think on his comment for a moment, recalling the exact incident.  It happened quickly, but I can picture it as if I spent all day playing in the fluid.

‘It was purple,’ I say.

Lancer looks at me.  He seems only partially satisfied with my answer.

‘There are a lot of simple things they overlook in your training, don’t they?’ Lancer says, shaking his head.  ‘I’m a product of the same education system and I am growingly convinced that it just does not work.’

‘Sure,’ he says.  ‘There are some obvious benefits to which I am endlessly grateful.  I could have ended up at the end of that rope as easy as anyone down below.’  Lancer looks straight into my eyes.  ‘But we’re not below anymore, are we?’

‘I fear that Eye has had enough for the time being.  There is a lot more to get him up to speed on, but let’s get some food and water into him before he wilts.’

Lancer exits the room first.  The female Unknown touches my shoulder, a gentle indication that it is time for me to rise and follow.

Walking through the large building, it is as if several compacts have been put together and laid out with each room being larger than usual.  It has none of the amenities that I would have included in a home of my own, but there are a lot of things more pressing to worry about than the taste of the traitor I looked up to.  I know that my life is not in immediate danger, but Five is following the signal from the extra transmitter stashed in my walkie, but I might not want Five to come at all.  He was willing to help me when he didn’t have to.  It shouldn’t cost him his life, if that is what he has.

A large table is set for dinner, five places in total.  Cee-shan pulls out a chair for me and I sit.  The smell coming from the cook room is intoxicating, much more enticing than the scents pouring from the Blue Flacon in Las Llaves.  I’ve never taken food on the surface.  I’ve never even had the opportunity.  My training allows me to operate without food or water much longer than a normal human could handle, but the smell coming from the other room is doing its best to interfere with my discipline.  The male Unknown takes the seat across from me.

‘Brick,’ the fem address that large male.  ‘I set a place for Fill out of habit.  Will Lancer think it foolish of me?’

Brick shakes his head.  ‘He will be better soon and setting a place for him shows that we believe his recovery will be swift.’

‘It shows he is not forgotten in his absence,’ Lancer says, entering the room carrying a large steaming pot.  He sets it in the center of the table.  ‘It was very thoughtful of you, Cee-shan.  I’m happy that you did it.  It was not silly.’

Cee-shan smiles slightly to herself as Lancer leaves the room.  A moment later he reappears with a smaller pot, setting it next to the large one.

‘I didn’t know how hungry you would be, Eye, so I made a little more than we’ll be able to eat in a sitting,’ Lancer says, sticking a large spanner into the pot.

‘I can’t say I have much of an appetite,’ I say, lying.  Lancer smiles at me.

‘After a lifetime of g & g, I couldn’t imagine how you hadn’t eaten your lip smelling real meat.’  Lancer stares at me, hoping I am impressed with his lie.  ‘Your doubtful eyes give you away, Replica.  You just taste a little and we’ll see what you think then.’

The only other human I’ve seen on the surface begins doling out a large amount mixed food onto my plate.  His does the same with the plate at the head of the table.  When he is finished, he moves to the smaller pot, only this time the amount he puts on the Unknown’s plates are much smaller than our portions.

‘They’re on a special diet,’ he says, unnerving me his ability to read my thoughts without me broadcasting them.  For whatever he has become, Lancer was the best Replica Tria or the Unit had ever known.

Lancer sits down at the head of the table.  ‘Try it, Eye.  Please, it is a special meal prepared for you,’ he smiles.

I hate to oblige the bastard, but I dig my spoon into the mix, not wanting to resist.  The bowl in front of me looks similar to something I might pick up in one of the classier eateries, but it smells much better.  I raise the spoon to my lips slowly.  I forget Lancer.  I forget Five.  I forget Tria.  I forget replicating fertilizer.

‘I told you it was real.  Though, it’s not what history tells us is technically meat.’

I suddenly shudder to think that Lancer is feeding me the remains of a human.

‘It’s called foul, but I don’t understand the reasoning behind the term.’  Lancer looks at me, paused as if I’m suddenly going to snap into being a good solider and begin asking him banal questions.  ‘The birds, Eye.  The flyers in the sky.  They’re quiet delicious aren’t they?’ Lancer feeds himself a spoonful.  His rolls his eyes in perverse satisfaction.  ‘I don’t need you to answer to know that.’

‘It is very good, Lancer,’ The fem says.

I eat my plate full of bird and vegetables, eager for more, but declining to give into that urge.  I push my plate forward to signal that I am finished.  I don’t fancy Lancer’s ambiguity or his liking to toy with me.  The food may have been a highlight of my life, but the smug aura surrounding him has only galvanized my need to save Tria.

The other human finishes his meal.  ‘Cee, would you mind getting Eye and I a cup of coffee?’

The fem nods, excusing herself from the table.  The male takes this as a sign to begin clearing our plates.

‘Are you sure you don’t want another helping?’ Lancer asks me.

‘I am fine, thank you.’

‘There is plenty left over that we can enjoy later,’ he says.  Cee-shan reenters the room with two cups.  She sets one in front of Lance and the other in front of me.

‘Thank you, darling.  Could you leave us now?’ Lancer asks.  The Unknown leaves us alone.  ‘A privilege we aren’t allowed as Replicas,’ he nods to his glass.  We are told to avoid anything energizing as Reps.  The booze and smoke calm the system down.  Can’t take the chance with anything that speeds it up.  I sit, ignoring my cup.

‘I want to apologize to you.  The way in which we went about apprehending you had to be frightening, at least the first time.’ Lancer lets out a low laugh.  ‘I don’t know how you took Fill so easily, but I’m guessing that your mechanical friend had something to do with that.’

Something about Five being mentioned gives me a worry for his well being.  Many have helped me in my life.  Many have given me things, but never has anyone risked their being to protect me.  Being around this bastard of a human has given me a much clearer picture of Five.  Lancer wasn’t ever my friend.  Lancer wasn’t ever someone to admire.  Five was brave.  Five defied centuries of conflict to protect me, instinct or not.

‘Your not touching your coffee,’ Lancer says.

‘Why don’t we stop pretending we’re having a family holiday and concern ourselves with why you’ve kidnapped me.’

‘Kidnapping you really wasn’t really the core of the plan.  It was just something I thought would be, well, nice for both of us.’

‘The fert.  That’s your doing isn’t it?’

‘I think I put a little too much faith in you, Eye.  Clearn’s fert,’ he says.  ‘Cee el ee ay ar en.  El aye en cee ee ar,’ Lancer says, shaking his head.  ‘I was hoping you were prepared for something abstract like that, at least when things started to go wrong.  So, tell me, how far gone is the underground?  I’m assuming our attack set off your suspicion, but I wouldn’t believe the Unit could have acted to quickly.’

‘You have to give me the formula to stop it,’ I demand.

‘You don’t even have an spot of original thought, do you Eye?  I was hoping that you’d start figuring this out on your own.  I mean, you do have a Mach companion.  You’re not exactly carrying out the dictum yourself.’

‘My deviations don’t include destroying our race,’ I say, flinging my hot coffee at Lancer’s face and lunging at his throat with my spoon.  Lancer does not flinch and grabs my hands with the strength of the fem Unknown in the greeners.

‘I was expecting that,’ he says, pushing me back down into my seat.

I sit in complete shock.  I’ve never encountered a human I couldn’t handle on my own.

‘I figured you would have tried earlier,’ he says, wiping himself with his table towel.  ‘That one, I will forgive.  If you try something dicey like that again and I will destroy you, Eye.  I didn’t bring you here as an enemy.  I brought you here as a friend.’

Friend.  A word I am losing understanding for as each day passes.

‘Why Lancer?’  My cold feelings slide away to fiery angst.  ‘Why destroy humanity?  They have nothing.  They can’t harm anyone and you’ve seemed to find your peace up here.  Live out your days anyway you want.  It doesn’t concern me.  I have no need to report what I’ve seen here, but I have a duty to the underground and I’m not going to let you kill one of them.’

‘Kill?’ he says.  ‘What part of this plan do you think has anything to do with killing humans?  Everything I’ve done is for our people.  You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed to set things in motion. This isn’t about smothering the underground, Replica.  It’s about forcing them out.’

‘To be killed on the surface by the Mach.  You’ve lost your mind Lancer.’

‘Has your Mach killed you yet?  Does he seem likely to turn you in?  Do you fear he will annihilate you?’ Lancer says as he shakes his head.

‘Friendly or not, they will not let us return.  It will be a massacre.’

‘The war between the human’s and the machines has nothing to do with a single living or mechanical soul on or in this planet,’ he continues.  ‘Even the oldest machines from that era have powered down so long ago that they are legend.  It’s human fear that keeps us down below, not machine hostility.’

‘You speak this like it’s fact,’ I say.

‘Facts are soft, Eye.  No one up here is ready to send a peace party to the underground and just invite us to return.  Not after what we did to them.’

‘What we did to them?’ I stare at Lancer, still in shock of his physical prowess.

‘History isn’t what it used to be,’ he says, staring straight ahead and sipping the rest of his coffee.  ‘If the humans are forced out of their home, that is something completely different.  There may be animosities between us, but the machines will not kill refugees.  Not harmless ones.’

‘I doubt the Unit’s going to come up here empty handed.  Half of those geezers have been praying for war,’ I say.

‘I know, Eye.  I know,’ Lancer shakes his head.  ‘That why I need your friendship.’

‘My friendship?  I don’t even know what you are anymore.’

‘I’ve evolved, Eye.  You will too.  If you’re straying into curiosity now, where do you think you’re going to end up if you pulled as many cycles as I did?  Things start to look different.  You know this.  I don’t have to say these things out loud.  Part of you has thought about pulling the never coming back ever since I took you up here and had to give you a relaxer just to keep you from having a flip out.  Look at you now.  Cold, steel eyed and ready to die for gods and country.

There are good people down there.  Many good people.  I don’t mean them any harm, Eye.  You see turncloak when you look at me, but it is not the truth.  Like everything we have been taught, you only see the lie.’

‘What are these things you’re living with?’

‘Friends.  Sympathizers.  Students,’ he says.

‘I didn’t mean…’

‘I know what you meant,’ Lancer interrupts.  ‘I’m not going to sit here like some kind of tutorial and tell you everything you don’t know.  You’re used to the need-to-know.  That’s where you and I are at,’ he says, standing up from the table.

Twelve

I’ve been in some tight situations in my time.  Not only with the Machs, but with the Unit as well.  My training has me ready for any scenario and for the first time in my existence I find that I might actually have to think of a plan instead of already having one at my finger tips.  Playing up to Lancer is not an option.  The man may be mad, but he’s brilliant as well.  I haven’t figured out a single aspect of his plan on my own and he knows that.  If I warm up to him too quickly, he’ll know I’m putting on a show.  If I try to hard to destroy him, I’m done for.  Even if I could threaten him, it would be pointless.  Any information I need for the underground rests with him.

I find myself frozen thought, unable to move forward or back.  I am exactly where he wants me to be and it’s apparent he’s gone to great lengths to do so.  It infuriates me, being the weak pawn piece in the Kill by Numbers game he’s set up.  None of this is made better knowing that I’ve been surfaced for an entire day and Tria could be overcome in only six more.  I don’t understand the logic of it.  Roemer never even made surfacing seem like a possibility.  Lancer and his freaks see themselves as some kind of freedom fighters, I’m sure.  The look all over Lance’s face was of all knowing benevolence, like the sun itself told him this plan to unite man and machine once again.

The thought makes me laugh out loud in the nice little room Lancer has stashed me away in.  I feel like I am alone, but I can’t be sure.  I have to signal Five soon or he’s going to either storm in here foolishly or throw his trans away and forgot all about me and his little curiosities.  I can’t have either of those.  I may teeder on the nihil, but things have gotten too interesting to check out right now.  I have to be around to see the outcome, no matter what it may be.

I take the trans out and send Five a simple message:

‘Grab bag of Clearns, stash at skypact, await further notice.’

I power the phone down and stash it back in my shoe.  He will be safe for the time being.  I’ve got some stage left ideas if I get out of here and I have to keep my options open.  Careful or not, some Mach will have had to pick up the Clearns and they will soon face the same problem that Tria has.

I look at the window as the day turns to evening.  It is beautiful.  I would try making it out of the window, but the height is too high.  I might have to talk to some machines, but I’d rather do it in the best of spirits and not hobbling on shattered bones.  At least Lancer had the decency to leave my smokes, a light, and an asher.  I grab the packet and open it.  The brand is the best.  My favorite.  Did that bastard know that or does he just have the same exquisite taste as I?

Laying awake as the evening passed into full darkness of night, I smoke a seventh cigarette and plan on leaving the room after it.  I’ve been left too long.  I’m sure as hells not going out of the window, but there’s too much of this housing unit for me to sit in this plain room for too long.  There’s not even a proper rester and I’m not used to laxing on the bed unless it’s to sleep away.  I look down at the cig as I puff in the dark.  I’m sure there’s a light switch an arms length away, but I enjoy the natural light coming from the night sun and stars.  Halfway through the smoke, I put it out in the tray, deciding it is time for me to get up.

I hop off the bed and loosen up my body.  I’m not looking to get attacked, but I’ve learned looking for something and finding something are not related.

‘Is there something I can help you with?’ Cee-shan asks the second I twist the door knob.  I open it anyway.

‘I wouldn’t mind a spot of that dinner Lancer made up,’ I say, happy to face the Unknown instead of Lancer himself.

‘I will go and get you some,’ she says.

‘Actually, I could really use a break from this room.  I’m not used to lounging around so much.’

‘I don’t think Lancer would want you to…’ she says, but I cut her off.

‘You could come with me.  I wouldn’t mind the company.  You were pretty quick in the greeners.  I’m not planning a bolt.  I’m not a fool.’  I say, trying to charm whatever the fuck is standing in front of me.  She’s not half bad to look at, but I imagine she’s got something down below that would split my member and then swallow it.

‘Fine,’ she finally says.

I follow the fem through the small hallway and down the stairs to the cook room of the home.  She opens the fridgefreezer and takes out the serving bowl.  Setting it down on the counting, she then opens a cabinet and removes a plate, setting it next to the bowl.  She doesn’t move like a Mach and she doesn’t quite move like a human either.  There is a lack of confidence in her movements, not a strong lack, but enough to know that she is not mechanical.  She hides it well, but she has an air of youthful clumsiness right below the surface.  I watch her as she removes the contents from the pot to the plate.  She has a slight worry that she is doing it wrong or that she might miss the plate.

‘Take your time.  You’re not going to mess anything,’ I say.

‘I’m doing just fine, Replica,’ she says to me.

I smile behind her back.  Sass, another non-Mach reaction.

Just when I’m enjoying my alone time with the Unknown, upward moving footsteps come from the door behind me.  Lancer steps out, slightly dirtied and smelling of oil.

‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay up there knowing this stuff was down here,’ he says, talking to me like Mouth would to Thommy.  ‘Just don’t take too much.  I made that mistake and started to lose my figure,’ he laughs.

I simply nod my head, stuck in the same non-position I’ve been in since I arrived.

‘Would you like to come to the rooftop garden and eat there?  I will accompany you,’ Lancer says.

‘Fine,’ I say, my thoughts split between escape and the view from Five’s sky compact.

Wiping off his hands, Lancer fixes him self a plate of food and leads me to a stairwell.

‘Beautiful house, isn’t it?’ he asks, walking up the stairs.

When we exit the stairwell, we are on the top of the building in the open air.  I get a touch of the nerves.  I could just take a running jump off of the open roof and end all of this madness.  It’s a fleeting thought that carries no weight, but it is the first time I have truly felt the gravity of suicide.  The beauty of the city at night overtakes any ill feeling I might have, at least towards life in general.  If I get the angle, I’m knocking old Lance right off. He may be unusual strong, but weight can be worked around easily.

‘Please, Eye, sit,’ he says, pointing his plated hand towards a thin rester surrounded by others of the same.  I take the seat, one of the most uncomfortable I’ve had.

‘You have to take weather into consideration with these outdoor resters,’ he says.  I might take my own life if it means I can bring him with.

‘Where do you shit in this place?’ I ask.

Lancer laughs.  ‘Finally, a real question out of my protégé.’  He shifts slightly in his seat.  ‘There’s a tiny box building down in the yard you can use when need be.  Just let Cee-shan, Brick, or Fill know and they will take you down.’

He seems to have mentioned the Unknown I disposed of at the greeners.  I want to chalk it up to forgetfulness of habit, but it doesn’t seem like Lancer’s bit.  This man never stops baiting me.

‘You are typically silent.  You have no need to worry about what you say to me.  It is of little consequence.’

‘Why have you detained me?’

‘You are a smart Replica, Eye.  As much as you might rebel against authority, I felt a little more comfortable carrying out my vision with you by my side.  Not out of compassion, old friend, but knowing that you were not out there working against me.  It’s more respectful than friendship.  You gave me an old touch of the fear,’ he says.  ‘But here you are now, as harmless as a Mach on shutdown.’

‘You have to understand my confusion,’ I say.

‘Of course.  A life a tight protocol with only tiny deviations is one thing.  No one in the Unit cares what you glean for yourself up here, but once you made friends with that Mach, well, I realized your deviations were no longer of the harmless variety,’ Lancer says, taking another spooning of food.

‘It’s our fault, Eye.  I want you to know that,’ he says.

‘I hardly think I’ve had enough of an impact on anything to be blamed for your behavior,’ I say.

‘Not we two, Replica.  Humanity.  The loss of this world rest squarely on the shoulders on humanity.’

‘I know the histories, Replica,’ I say to him bitingly.  Lancer smiles.

‘Where did you learn those histories?’ he asks.

‘Can we cut the bullshit of you back and forths if whatever we say is pointless?’

‘You misunderstood me.  Whatever you say is useless.  I have plenty to lose with the knowledge I have,’ he says.  ‘We were taught lies.  Plain and simple.  The Unit and Humanity have chosen to glaze over the truth of what happened up here.  Sure, we created the Machs, but they did not force us underground.  It’s been eight hundred years since we lived above.  That’s a long time, but do you really think everything we have down there came from Replicas smuggling in metal one bar at a time?’  Lancer laughs.  ‘We were taught to question everything and yet there is a glaring blind spot in our education.  Forced underground?  The only thing that forced us below was that we ruined this world and had to leave.

‘The Machs were our servants, made in our exact image.  Not only were they programmed to work, but they were program to work with care.  That was our saving grace and true folly.  A machine working with no understanding of why it did what it would have no care for the abstract of regrowing plants, monitoring weather patterns, and such.  They even imprinted them with our habits for sense of relief!  It’s hysterical, isn’t it.  It’s so absurd that it can only lead to one question.  Why would we go through so much trouble?

‘We gave the Mach’s Earth.  We gifted it to them with the intent of having them fix our broken planet.  Look around at that underground.  They tell us that Dictum Weston lead the first humans underneath after being attacked and started to rebuild our world.  That world was waiting for us.  It was built nearly one hundred years before any conflict arose between the Machs and humans.  It was waiting for us.  We built it with their help, Eye.  We’re not deep because we’re afraid they’ll find us.  They could march in at any second and wipe us out in one go.  But they don’t and never would.  They do not hate us.  It wasn’t ever programmed into them by us or themselves to have an opinion on us as their makers.

‘We burnt this earth to a crisp, used up every thing it had to offer and then the sky got so sick we couldn’t breathe the air or tolerate the light.  We cobbled together these mechanicals to do the things we could not.  They helped us create the underground and the territories, the rails, the cities, the breathing units, the greenhouses…everything.

‘They were sent above to make the world a livable space again.  They reversed the sky, the water, the cleared up everything we had tainted.  They learned all about what caused the planet’s decline and were programmed never to let it happen again.  That was our folly.  These Machs, we built them to understand clearly.  Oh, the vanity of man.  Sure, some of the extremists would point the finger back at us, but the world that drove us underground was ours.  It was inherited from the generations before us.  There was nothing to do but duck and cover when the time came.

‘The Machs didn’t see it that way.  Their vision was of total clarity.  Insects can ruin a crop, but they also serve their purpose. They found that anything produced purely of the earth had it’s place in the cycle.  All but one.

‘Reports dwindled until there was no communication between the Machs and Humans at all.  Slowly, we sent up scouts to check on the condition of the surface.  Many didn’t return.  The ones who did reported that Earth was safe for habitation again.  It had been one hundred and forty years that humanity lived underground and it was time for them to return to the surface, slap the Machs on the back for a job well done and gone back to our home.  Only we both know it didn’t play that way.

‘All the fighting, the mass deaths, it all happened when we tried to take the surface back.  We were dealt with like a disease, wiped out without any after thought.  The Machs had no hostility towards us.  It was carried out as cold fact.  Sure, we tried everything in our power, but they were in control.  Some of the madmen in charge would have rather atomized the entire planet rather than hand it over, but we needed to survive.’

‘Do you truly believe that?  Because it sounds like you’re trying to wipe us out once and for all,’ I say.

‘It is time to forgive the Mach and apologize,’ he says.

‘Apologize?  Lancer, you are proper fucked.’

‘What was the first thing your little mecha-friend said when you attacked my Fill?  You don’t have to say it.  I know you remember.  It may not have seemed peculiar at the time, but you know as well as I do that his response wasn’t opinion.  That was his programming.’

‘You were the most respected Rep in all the territories.  You could return with the formula to reverse the fert a hero,’ I say, feeling the naivete of my statement as it pours from my mouth.

‘I would consider it if there were a formula, but there isn’t and one man’s testimony of working together with the machines will mean nothing to them.  I don’t fear their judgement or punishment, but they will not act.  The histories have shown us that time and time again.  Not the printed or cataloged ones, but the ones spoken from mouth to ear time and time again.’

‘Rumors,’ I say.

‘Sure, some of them might be, but letting the truth out and labeling it a rumor is the one true way to rob an event of its importance,’ Lancer says, finishing the last of his meal.

A quick stomping sound is quickly accompanied by the presence of Brick.

‘Sir,’ he says, breathing more than decoratively.  ‘Please come.’

Lancer and I follow Brick back down the stairs and all the way into the main room of the residence.  Standing in front of Cee-shan is my friend called Five.

‘We caught this one lurking around a little more than accidentally,’ she says.

‘Fool,’ Five refers to himself, shaking his head with his eyes cast downward.

‘I’m so very happy that you came to make our acquaintance, Mr. Five, if that is what you would like to be called,’ Lancer says.  How ever genial Lancer may seem, both Cee-shan and Brick stand over Five.

‘I give you a lot of credit for coming here and risking yourself.  You are a brave machine, Five, and I admire that. Especially since it’s for a Replica like Eye.  I wouldn’t have guessed you’d tracked us this far,’ Lancer says, putting his hands on my person.  He runs them all over, checking for a foreign object.  Coming up empty, he laughs.  The then grabs for my walkie and takes the off.  Turning my left on upside down, the transmitter falls out.  Lancer laughs even harder.

‘Eye, you were bold to try such a simple trick and I was a fool to look past it.’  Lancer crushes the transmitter in his hand.  His strength frightens me.  I will not be able to overtake him under any circumstance.

‘You can ease off of our guest,’ Lancer says, signaling his Unknowns.  They back away from Five, but do not leave him enough space to do anything bold, as if that were a possibility at this point.

‘Now that I have you both here, I think I can better explain what my friends and I here are doing.  Eye, as you pointed out, Fill was not quite Mach and not quite human.  What I’m going to tell you may offend you.  You might not even begin to understand it, but humans and Machs are meant to share this surface in a way that you could not have imagined.  It’s an old religion.  One that never came to fulfil it’s thousand year old prophecies until now.  Like you, I had a Mach companion on the surface.

‘He stumbled upon something that would be useless to either of our kinds alone.  It requires us to work together.  We will not be able to achieve our goals separated anymore, Eye.  The Machines and humans will work together to achieve immortality.  The Singularity,’ he says, suddenly distracted.  He look to Five with a smile.

‘Are you going to write this all down?’ Lancer laughs, noticing what he perceives as a writing tool in the hand of the Mach.

A sudden urge to explode wells up in my being.

‘Five!’ I shout as he gouges the device into his own chest, deploying it.

I feel the burst of energy released by the device.   In a nano, Five is down as well as Lancer and the Unknowns, to my total surprise.  In my shocked haste, I grab the spoon from Lancer’s meal plate and stab it deep into his eye socket, expecting the purple goo, but seeing only blood flow out.  I twist it with a deep hatred, making sure there will be know getting up again for my fallen mentor.

Knowing have a little over a minute to escape, I rush over to Five.

Seeing him defunct on the ground brings the liquid to my eyes.

‘No fool,’ I say, reaching down to shut his blinkers.

Thirteen

I rush out of the house, leaving Cee-shan and Brick laying there on the floor.  They will be up and after me in seconds, so I throw out my training and run down the street at full speed.  One of them waking up while I dismember the other would be enough to sign my death sheet.

The area is quiet and I feel a sense of insecurity not having any information on the immediate area.  I’ve studied maps and structure in training, but I’ve never had to leave the tall buildings for the small ones during any of my trips.  I change directions many times on my run in order to leave no clear path for the Unknowns to follow.  Whatever killed Five mucked them and Lancer up pretty well.  They may not be full Mach, but I can’t take the chance that they might be able to smell me or any other unforeseeable talent they may have for tracking.

Lancer deserved better than to be killed unconscious on the ground, but the fact that he fell along with the others was enough to eliminate any sense of ceremony in my respect for him.  If I could have taken him alive, I would have done it.  He deserved to return to the below and die in a cell after answering for his crimes.

Turning a corner into a more open area, I can see the sky high buildings and make straight for them.  My turn onto the wider street is taking me past a loose assortment of Machs sprinkled throughout the street.  Each of them watch me as I curiously scramble past them.  I’ve remembered enough of my directional training to take me right to a place I’ve avoided my entire career.

Centralized Machination is the closest thing to the Unit that the Machs have.  There are minor problems amongst the machines; gambling, debt, and other easily correctable offenses, but CM takes care of all of it in addition to regulating workers, residency, and other pseudo-governmental duties.  The building I was taught to fear is the tallest in the sky.  It is my beacon as I sprint through the streets of Chicago.

I’m not surprised that the onlookers haven’t addressed me as I run by.  Each new model and upgrade changes Mach culture and it can happen quickly.  It’s interesting that they’ve never taken an interest in speeding themselves up.  They must be content.

The building looks closer, but it is so large that I have trouble gauging the distance between my current position and my destination.  I am sweating profusely.  My shot must have worn off sometime while I was in Lancer’s possession.  Good thing otherwise I might overheat and drop dead in the middle of the street before I can get to Centralized to be tortured and killed.

The roads are now as wide as I’m used to them being and I am in an area that I am somewhat familiar with.  I’m still miles away from two nine zero, but I can’t count on returning there as Lancer’s Unknowns might be there waiting.  In any case, it’s been straight to CM since I’ve left their company.  Machs I can handle.  The unknown, I have a little more trouble assessing.

My run nears it’s end as I close in on the building.  Giving myself a few moments to calm down and stop pouring sweat, I make for the entrance of Centralized Machination.  My best hope is that I am not annihilated upon walking into the building.  After that, I’m not quite sure.

‘Greetings,’ I say to the women standing behind a large desk in the middle of the buildings lobby.  She nods at me politely.  I can’t imagine CM getting much business at this time of night.

‘Criminal sector?’ I ask.

‘54 floor,’ she says.  I nod back in thanks and walk over to the staircase.

I walk to the series of elevator doors lined along the center column of the building.  Hitting the button, I am granted access inside.  The elevator is a much nicer state than the tired ones down below.  Fifty four floors is a lot farther than I’m used to traveling, but the time it takes me to reach my destination from pressing the button is shorter than any ride I’ve taken beneath the surface.

The doors open right into middle of the criminal investigations center.  The center is alive with Machs, giving the area a feel similar to a cramped Unit office.  Like the Centralized Machinations building itself, the criminal department has its own greeting desk.  This time the Mach I face is a male of older build.

‘Greeting,’ I say.  ‘Report crime.’

The Mach routinely reaches underneath his desk and hands me a digital form.

‘Fill,’ he says.

I take the form from him and start to walk back towards an area of seating.  I instead turn around and approach him again.

‘Emergency,’ I say.

‘Nature?’ he asks.

‘Private.’

The Mach shakes his head and laughs a little to himself.  He picks up a transmitter device and presses a few buttons.

‘Momentarily,’ the Mach says.

I stand off to the side awaiting the results of his silent signaling.  I don’t believe Lancer’s preachings of non-violence in the Machs, though I couldn’t imagine them lacking a certain curiosity in humankind.

A hulking Mach walks from far behind the receiving desk directly towards me.  He is one of the largest Machs I have ever seen, at least in person.

‘Emergency?’ he asks.

I nod my head.  ‘Private, please.’

The large male leads me through the cubits of the center towards what I can only suppose is his office.  He opens the door, allowing me to enter first.  Looking at the office, I know that this is not the room I will die in.  Following behind me, the Mach motions for me to take a seat across from his desk.  He does the same.

‘Information,’ I say.

‘Information emergency?’

‘Affirmative.’

The Mach adjusts his neck.  ‘Nature?’ he asks.

‘Human invasion,’ I say calmly.

‘Melcheck,’ he says.

I stare at the man.  I don’t want to throw all my cookies at him at once, but I am at a loss for how to respond.  He suddenly smiles and picks up his transmitter.

‘Melcheck,’ he says into the trans.  I have triggered some kind of protocol.  ‘Melcheck!  Human invasion,’ he says quite seriously, then awaits a response.  The large Mach suddenly bursts into a fit of hysterical laughter.  I’ve never seen a Mach laugh like this.  The next thing I know, I’m laughing too, harder than I ever have in my entire life.  The Mach hangs up the phone and gets up from his desk.  He pats me on the shoulder.

‘Humorous,’ he says, continuing to laugh.

‘Time waster,’ he adds, tightening his grip on my shoulder.

‘No time waster,’ I say.  I reach over and grab a glass off of the Machs desk, smashing it to the ground.  The Mach is instantly upset.  I grab a piece of the glass and slash at my own hand.  The Mach ignores my movement, instead grabbing me with both of his hands.

‘Lockup, burnout,’ he says.

‘Look, look, look,’ I say to him frantically, hoping we can contain this conversation to his office. I do not want to start off with an explanation to a group of Machs.  If they work anything like humans, they get stupider the more of them you get together.

The Mach finally heeds my call.  I show him the red blood slowly seeping from my hands.  He loosens his grip, looking at the wounds.

‘Interesting add-on,’ he says.

‘Please listen to me.  This is not a joke.  I am not mechanized.  I am a human being and you need to listen to what I have to say or there is going to be massive bloodshed and a war like we haven’t seen for hundreds of years.’

‘Human speak, bloodlike fluids.  You are a very peculiar burn out, youngster.’

‘I am not a burnout.  I am trained to infiltrate Chicago to gather supplies for the underground cities,’ I say, the Mach easing me back into my seat and returning to his.

‘You’re confused.  I understand.  Things aren’t easy when you’re your age,’ he says, looking me up and down.  ‘You’ve got to be what, three years old?  A lot happens when you reach that age.  You start making connections within yourself that help you differ from the crowd.  When I was that age I was the same exact way.  I didn’t storm into CM’s criminal unit making invasion accusations, but I didn’t want to be part of the crowd either.  I wanted to be as different from the rest of us as I could.  That’s why I got into the criminal unit in the first place,’ he says.

‘Listen mate, I’ve had enough life lessons handed down by my elders to last an entire life time, so if you can just cut the bullshit we can get to what is really important.  I’m going to need a top science officer to help reverse a fertilizer formula or the entire population of Chicago is going to have to deal with a hundred thousand humans roaming your streets, most likely in a hostile and confused fashion and it won’t stop here in Chicago.  But it can,’ I say.

‘So, if you need to stick something up my ass to prove to you that I’m not a Mach, well go right ahead because the longer we sit here pretending this is a joke the more what I told you becomes a reality.’

The Mach stares at me for a long moment.

‘Come here,’ he says, standing up.  I walk over to him.  He starts to examine my hair, my face, touching me all over.

‘I hate to lock you up, kid.  But you should really cool down here before I let you back out on the streets,’ he says, looking me over.  ‘And shut that fluid off.  It’s getting everywhere.’

‘You’re right.  I’m just a little off.  I’ve been feeling really,’ I hesitate, ‘alone lately.  Can you please just have someone run a test to make sure I’m all machine and not animal.  I know how crazy that sounds, but it would make me feel so much better.  I just need to be validated.’

The Mach nods slowly.  ‘I can do that for you right here.’  The Mach fumbles through his desk drawers.  ‘I didn’t catch your name?’

‘Eye,’ I say, pointing at my eye again.

‘Alright, Eye,’ the male says.  ‘This will take one second.’

‘What’s your name?’ I ask suddenly nervous that whatever this machine does next might be followed by a bold from his hipside blaster.  I would at least like to know the name of my killer if that is the case.’

‘Tabb, Systema Cumulous Tabb,’ he says.

Lifting something that looks like it might be a gun itself, the Systema points it at me.

‘Now, this might give you acute memory flash, but it’s how we detect a flaw in a rouge on the spot.  I’ve used it on myself once and it won’t be too bad.  Just try to relax.’

Tabb activates the device.  While I feel nothing, he experiences what I can only describe as mechanical shock.

Instead of being vaporized, Tabb grabs me like I’m a child’s toy and marches me out of his office and across the hall.

‘Dan-Ares,’ he shouts to a co-worker.  The second male Mach follows us into an office larger than Tabbs.  Once inside, Tabb closes off the windows, leaving us in privacy.  A stolen glance out of the sky building shows me that the sun is about to rise.  I’ve never seen it from a vantage point like this.  I wonder if I could burst out the window and fly to my death if things don’t fair well.

‘Repeat to Dan-Ares what you said to me in human speak while I run this scan on you again,’ Tabb commands.

‘The humans have been tricked into using a fertilizer that replicates infinitely by one of our own intent on reuniting the humans with the surface of the Earth,’ I say, noticing the new officer’s look of plain shock as Tabb shares the scan with him.  ‘The replication will eventually force out all of the humans underneath Chicago to the surface and the spread will continue throughout the entire underground.

‘I came here for scientific help to reverse this process so we can avoid total bloodshed.  I have to desire to see my people throw themselves in front of you hand cannons.’

‘Eye,’ Tabb finally says.  ‘If what you say is true, you are the first reported living human being on the surface of Chicago in hundreds of years.  We have found traces of remains, but never a living specimen.’

Being referred to as a specimen does not give my outlook the boost I am looking for.

‘I’m not here so you can run tests on me.  I’m here to prevent an invasion neither side wants.  Believe me.  If the humans are forced to the surface they will be frightened and angry. The military will wage a full war against you that they will lose, but not before decimating Chicago.  I have been sneaking up here to the surface for five of your yearly cycles and more than given a shit about you machines or even my own kind, I can’t have them ruin this city.’

‘So,’ Danaries says.  ‘What exactly do you want us to do?’

‘I need a science officer of some kind to experiment on the fert until the process reverses.’

‘This is amazing,’ Dan-Ares says.  ‘I thought they shut down the bio-lock unit after Bleates ran off to work on his own.’

‘Dan, I’m pretty sure that they did,’ Tabb says.

‘Take me to your boss or whoever you’re supposed to report a human to.  We don’t have time to play this game anymore.  I am a human being and if you don’t get me to someone who gives a shite about this world I will show you the boundless limitations of human cruelty,’ I say vehemently.

‘This is Melcheck’s work, isn’t it?’ Dan-Ares ask.

I hop up on the table between us to their surprise and mine.  I drop my trousers and underlining and squat, defecating on the large meeting desk.

‘Show me a fucking machine that can do that,’ I say.

‘Human,’ the scientist says, looking to the officers who have accompanied me the labs in the Science unit of Centralized Machinations.

While the scientist keeps his composure, the criminal officers in the room begin to babble to each other in Mach talk.  I sit in a reclining chair similar to the one the surgeon might use if he needs to do some special work.  The scientist is in a chair larger than mine above me.

‘Bleates work not,’ the scientist adds.

I can make out parts of the officer’s chattering.  I don’t have to know the language know that they are debating what to do with me.  I doubt that destroying me is much of an option.  I did turn myself in here asking for help.  I know I’m letting desperation infect me with optimism, but I can disregard my instincts and they tell me that I will live.

‘Eye,’ Tabb says.  ‘If what you say is true, we will have to send our own people back into the underground to handle the situation.  You will not be allowed to return with them.’

‘I understand your area of concern, but no one will be granted access without me.  It is not as simple as your numbers and code.  I must give flesh verification to re-enter.  Even if I could, the Unit will take the appearance of any machine as hostility,’ I say.  ‘Humans are a stubborn breed, believe me.’

‘We are all well aware of the difficulties humanity posed upon this world,’ the scientist says, breaking his Mach speak.  I can tell that speaking in my tongue makes him feel sullied.

‘Informed?’ the scientist asks the officers.

‘Tabb, Dan-Ares, Ferria, Most,’ Tabb says, motioning to the three officers around him.

The scientist looks around at them.  ‘No one else.  No one,’ he says.

The Mach has it out for me.  He must be older or some kind of loyalist.  If anyone of these Machs is going to pull the trigger on me, it’s him.

‘Alone,’ the scientist says.  The officers leave me with their superior Mach.

‘Replica, you say?’ he asks.

‘Affirmative.’

‘More?’

‘Chicago, negative.  Wider, affirmative,’ I say.

‘You are well trained,’ he says, turning in his tall examination chair.

‘My entire life.  They raised me as a machine until I was fourteen cycles,’ I say.

The scientist shakes his head.  ‘I doubt they taught you anything beyond the mechanics.’

‘You are probably right,’ I say, drawing a short breath.  ‘I know that I disgust you…’

‘Not disgust,’ the Mach interrupts.  ‘You are the most scientifically beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.  I doubt that I’ll ever get the opportunity to see something like you again.  Once word gets out, you’ll be taken into captivity and paraded around like some kind of trophy.’

‘Well, I’ve never been called beautiful before,’ I laugh.  ‘But if that’s what’s keeping you from vaporizing me then I’ll take it.’

‘We don’t vaporize each other up here, Eye.  We don’t vaporize humans either.’

‘You’ll have to forgive my upbringing,’ I say.

The scientist closes his eyes for a long moment.  I look at this man and realized the power of my misjudgment.  He might be the one to get me out of here.  The Mach opens his eyes.

‘This fert you speak of, it came from the surface?’

‘Yes,’ I answer.

‘Yet you say it was one of your own who arranged this deceit?  How is this possible?’

‘My predecessor.  He came up one mission and never came back.  We assumed he was…’

‘Vaporized,’ the scientist jumps in.

‘Yes.  But he wasn’t.  He was with these things.  They weren’t human, but they weren’t fully mechanical.  They were somewhere in between.’

‘Your predecessor sounds like mine.  Before he decided to leave Centralized Machinations, he was working on bio-engineering some new mechas.  He was the best of us around.  He would have loved to meet you.  Fill-Bleates had a great interest in the human being.’

I leap to me feet.

‘Scientist, you need to get me out of here right now and come with me.  Make up any excuse you can think of.  Bring Tabb with us and tell him you’ve been requested to move me somewhere else,’ I say quickly.

‘Everywhere we would take you is within these walls.  Moving you out of the building would arouse suspicion,’ the Mach says.

‘Listen, they left when you told them to leave.  They trust you.  Treat them like they aren’t important enough to know all the secrets of CM.  They will follow you just like they did before.  Let the other officers know that if a word leaks you’ll have them wiped.’

I can see the contemplation in the Machs plain emotionless face.

‘We’re going to have to break into a friends compact here on the surface.  He’s got a sample of the fert.  You can check it out there and we can send me back with the formula.  If you value this world at all, you’ll do as I say and act quickly.  Your predecessor and mine have been working together and whatever it seems they may have been doing is only the beginning to what they aim to.’

‘Fill?’ he asks.

‘Large fellow, darker hair coloring, emerald eyes,’ I say.

‘That’s him! You have seen him?’ The scientist enthusiastically asks.

‘I cut his head off with a shovel.’

The scientist looks nonplussed.

‘What’s your name, scientist?’ I ask.

‘Main Ten Deck,’ he says.

‘Well Deck, it’s time for us to start moving before something much worse than human’s shows up here.’

Fourteen

Tabb was a good robot and did not question Deck when he delivered the speech I prepared for him. Escorting me out of the building, no one even turned to look at us.  The other officers took every word Deck said directly to heart, though that expression isn’t quite suited for them.  None of them have ever encountered a lie before and that’s the greatest advantage I have right now.

Tabbs’ criminal unit cruiser isn’t as flash as Lancer’s was, but I still can’t deny the thrill of cruising quickly through the city as the sun fights it’s way past the large buildings.  The further away I get from Centralized Machinations, the more I feel that I am not at a complete loss.  Tabb is large, but I can use his size against him.  Deck poses even less of a threat.  He seems so curious in my behavior that I imagine he would watch in total interest as I disassembled him piece by piece.  Either way, my safety is temporary.

When we reach Five’s building, I signal to Deck, who in turn commands Tabb to pull over.

‘This is the place?’ Deck asks.

‘It is.’

‘Is your friend going to be expecting us?’ Tabb asks.

‘He’s dead.  He’s not expecting anything,’ I say, exiting the backseat of the carriage.

Tabb walks up to the entry point of the buidling and makes the same odd noise that Five did to command it open.  I lead them to the elevator where we stand in silence for several awkward seconds.  If Five didn’t get the fert I asked him to, my mission becomes complicated yet again.

The criminal unit officer repeats his fax-modem command to the door of Five’s sky compact.  Opening as it should, we enter Five’s apartment.  I can see some of my belongings sitting where I left them.  I never got to be Five’s proper guest.  Just some human shoving him around and making him bend to my will.  I owe him.

‘The fert should be here somewhere,’ I say.

The three of us look around for a short time before Deck grabs the bag of Clearns and hoists it up for us to see.

‘Found,’ he says.

He takes the bag and lays it on top of the table in Five’s sitting room.

‘Cut it open, Tabb,’ he commands.

Tabb takes a small knife device out of his pocket and slits the bag down the middle.  Opening like a wound, the fert sparkles in the light.  Deck takes a small amount of it and runs it through his fingers.

‘Looks like pretty standard stuff,’ he says.  ‘I can’t detect much from looking at it.’

Deck sets a case on the table and opens it.  Inside are many devices whose use I’m not familiar with.  He takes a small spoon and gathers some of the fert with it.  Tabb and I watch in silence as the scientist empties the spoon into a cylinder within the his case.

‘This will take several minutes,’ Deck says.

‘I’m fixing myself a scotch,’ I say.  ‘You gents want one?’

‘Affirmative,’ they answer in unison, causing me to pull a little smile behind there backs.  The feeling that I am in control has been missed over the past days.  Encountering and dealing with Mach authority has left me with the impression that I could take a building down to Tria piece by piece without them taken notice.

I hand the two glass of Destiny’s to my Mach companions.  I arbitrarily lift my glass to them.  They look confused.  I shake my head and drink from the glass.

‘Okay, what’s this,’ Deck says, looking closer at his case.  ‘There’s a trace of neubloclia cell work in the deep make up of this fertilizer.’

‘You’ll have to forgive my lack of knowledge,’ I say.

‘Neubloclia is an organic reproductive compound.  I’ve never seen it anywhere outside of the lab.’

‘Why isn’t this bag replicating on its own?’ Tabb asks.

‘It needs to be activated,’ Deck says.

Deck leaves and walks over to Five’s pot for watering flowers.  He carries it back in our direction.

‘What would activate it?’ I ask.

‘Water,’ he says, pouring a small amount into the center of the bag.

These machines can surprise in their behavior with the best of us.

‘Why?’ Tabb asks.

‘Antidote,’ the scientist replies.

‘You are a bold son of bastard, scientist,’ I say.  ‘I guess if you can’t figure it out, there will be nowhere left to go.’

Deck takes another scoop and empties it into another of his cylinders.

‘It took weeks for this stuff to replicate,’ I say.  ‘I don’t have that kind of time.’

‘Our detection systems are sure to be far superior than the ones your kind are used to.  I can trace the growth of this substance in amounts unimaginable to the human mind,’ he says, turning back to his case.

‘I can see why it took so long.  The fertilizer is coded to absorb an amount of the water, but only release part of it, building off of the liquid as it is continually fed.’

‘So all we have to do is stop watering it?  The fert replicated for weeks without any kind of treatment what so every.’

‘That’s not to keep it replicating, it only start the process.  I have no idea how to stop the process, but I will find it,’  Deck says, looking up from his case.  ‘This is going to take more than a few hours, so I suggest that we set up here for the time being.’

‘A mission is a mission,’ Tabb says, helping himself to another glass of the scotch. ‘Take your time.’

I sit myself down on Five’s extended rester, taking a long look at the Machs in my company.  Deck continues working with the implements in his case while Tabb paces around the skypact with his glass of scotch.

‘So, do you actually get drunk when you drink?’ I ask Tabb, deciding to use the moment to settle a small question.

‘Our system detects the content and it allows us to relax to a certain degree.  We can’t overload, but you can set your own adjustment rating to how sensitive you become to the signal it send,’ Tabb says.

I nod my head, sipping from my scotch.

‘I’m putting on some sound,’ I say, standing up and walking across to Five’s Vibro.  He and I have very similar tastes.  Had, I should say.  I select a somber Ellion piece and silently drink a toast to my stillborn friendship.

I can’t tell the difference, but both Deck and Tabb claim to be able to tell that the fert on the table has already visually multiplied.  I don’t question it.  They’ve got a completely different set of peepers than I’m used to.  I’m just enjoying the view from the large rester.  I can see the rolling blue from my seat.

I’d like to walk right up to it and just let myself sink in, like my absurd dreams.  I’ve heard some can navigate themselves in the water, but I don’t trust it.  People afraid of the rope are quick to take a long bath, either under or with a razor.  Something that large and natural doesn’t seem welcoming.  It’s grand, like death itself.  The body of water’s largeness is rivaled only by how little we know about.  I get a welcome spread of warmth throughout my body and my skin pimples.

‘Body,’ Tabb says.

I look over to him.

‘What just happened to your body?’ he asks.

‘When humans get hot, cold, or excited, it sends a sensation through their body and our skin just does that.  It’s like a release,’ I say, unaware the Mach was watching me so closely.  I’ve never been so aware of just how much my sweat shots actually protect.

‘I’m not getting anywhere,’ Deck says, lifting his head from his case for the first time in hours.  He straightens his back.

‘My head is spinning as fast as it can.  Even with the international info-bank, I’m getting nothing.  I feel so out of bounds.  I don’t know how to express it in talk,’ he says, lifting the fert in a vile up to the light.  In a quick movement, Deck crushes the vile in his hand.  He seems more surprised than either Tabb or I do.

‘Sorry, I just…I don’t know what happened,’ he says.

‘Look,’ Tabb says, gesturing towards the broken cylinder.  Deck notices he has cut his hand.

‘Oh,’ he says.  ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Not your hand,’ Tabb says.

I get up off of the rester, intrigued by their sudden silence.

‘Careful, Eye, it could be toxic,’ Deck says.  ‘I don’t have a read out yet.’

I walk up to them anyway.  This time, even I can see that something has happened with the fertilizer.  The small area with the broken glass and Mach juice is subtly bubbling.

‘Read it out, Deck,’ Tabbs says.

‘It’s not toxic.  It’s quite base,’ he says.  Deck quickly gathers up the contaminated fert and places it into another vile.  He holds it up to the light and then inserts it into his special case.  Tabb and I wait in eager silence.

‘I feel like breaking another vile,’ Deck says.

‘Failure?’ Tabb asks.

‘No,’ Deck says, turning with a smile on his face.  ‘Success.’

‘So you’re telling me Mach juice is what we need to stop this stuff?’ I ask.

‘Yes.   I want to wait a few more hours before jumping to that conclusion, but all of the readouts are perfect.  In fact, the juice just cancels out the rapidity escalation.  It’s still completely usable.’

‘Will water set it back off?’

‘There is still a lot to be done, Eye.  I can’t tell right now.  We have to get more orbethia and neutralize the rest of this fert here.’

‘I’m on it,’ Tabb says, heading right for the door.

‘I was wrong,’ Deck says.  ‘It is not working.’  The scientist looks down at the fert with a vile of the Mach juice.  ‘I don’t understand,’ he says.  ‘It is not deterring the growth at all.  I can’t comprehend it.’

The neutralized fert proved to be non-toxic, water had not further effect on it, and was still one hundred percent useable as a high yield fertilizer.  I ‘ve never been the bloke to jump a shot off, but I was fairly optimistic that Deck’s Mach juice theory worked.  I’d seen it work.

I realize the missing variable.  I walk right over to table, grabbing a piece of the broken vial and jabbing it into Deck’s hand.  Tabb makes a quick move for me and pulls me off.

‘No!  No!  No!’ Deck shouts.  ‘Tabb, he’s right!   He’s right!’  Deck stands, moving his hand so the juice pouring out covers the table.  ‘It was not activated,’ he exclaims.  ‘It isn’t the same going in as coming out.’

‘You could have just said that out loud,’ Tabb says, releasing me.

‘That wouldn’t have been any fun,’ I say, smiling at the large Mach.

‘So,’ I say, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.  ‘How do I synthisize activation with this stuff?’

‘You do not,’ Deck says.  ‘We are individually and collectively unique.  You can’t replicate what occurs in use without ID intelligence.’

‘Let me catch this up here.  You are telling me that machines won’t build machines in their likeness?’ I ask.

‘We only create each other, nothing less superior or inferior.  We do not tamper with our own likeness.  Humans taught us that.’

‘Then I need a hostage to run this stuff through,’ I say.

‘Hostage?’ Tabb asks.  ‘You are our prisoner, human.  Whatever Deck decides to do with you is where your destination awaits.’

‘We will take him back to where he belongs,’ Deck interjects.

‘That sounds like certain deactivation,’ Tabb says.

‘It most likely will be.  That’s why you won’t be joining us.  If this fert drives their scum up to the surface it will be a widespread concern.  If I am deactivated in the course of righting this incident, then that is what will be.

‘We will need a large supply of the orbethia to bring with us,’ Deck says.

‘I’m good at what I do, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to smuggle a full sized Mach back into the underground with me,’ I say.

‘You are not smuggling anything.  This is a peace mission and if your kind won’t have me, we’ll be waiting at the sewers with our weapons held high,’ Deck says with an air of command in his voice.  I don’t know if he is speaking in deceit of Tabb or myself.  Either way, his concern is real.

With the supplies ready, the only thing that needs to be prepared to return to Tria is my mindset.  ‘At all costs’ I was told.  Well, this is cutting it awfully close.  I’ve debated staying up a few more days to make the need for Deck more pressing, but just can’t bring myself to do that.  This fert is something that puzzles even my Mach scientist.  It’s working fine now that he has neutralized it, but he doesn’t know what it will do next.  So much for mechanized logic.

Deck sent Tabb to gather the rest of what we would need, plus some.  The bulky officer will take us to the two nine zero entry point.  I hope AD Roemer decided to share her plan with the Unit because I show up at the surgeons with Deck he might just detonate us all at once and be done with it.  That’s not how I would like to go down.  A small part of me cries out to stay above and live incognito.  If Lancer could do it, so could I.

I’ve got a slight case of the worries, but my mission was clear and I am doing nothing but following the upmost of orders from the AD.  They can come after her if they want a scapegoat for this mess.  I am just the errand lad.

‘We are prepared, Eye.  Are you ready to exit?’ Deck asks.

‘Affirmative,’ I say.

I feel a slight loss leaving Five’s sky compact.  I could have easily taken it over, though entering would pose a problem.  I’m sure I could have had one my pocket Machs rig something up for me.  I shouldn’t think so little of them.  It’s in my blood.  The bravery between Deck and Five is above and beyond anything I’ve seen in a human.  It’s partially sickening.  Maybe we should just be picked off upon surfacing.

The carriage ride over to two nine zero is short and without event.  The say outside of the auto’s windows is sunny and welcoming, though I will not have a chance to enjoy it.  Every time I see the sun I figure it is my last time, though I am filled with an optimism that I will return.  It probably means I have finally accepted my own death.  Things are always happening like that.

Tabb unloads the contents of the carriage at the mouth of the entrance.

‘Secrecy clear?’ Deck asks.

‘Clear’, Tabb says.  What simple beings.

Tabb finishes his work and nods to Deck.  ‘Forward,’ he says.  The large Mach then turns to me.  ‘Forward,’ he says again.

‘Forward, Tabb,’ I say.  Not a bad send off considering I shat in front of him just hours ago.

The officer gets back in his cruiser and drives off into daylight.

‘You’re pretty sure he won’t tell anyone about this place?’ I ask rhetorically.

‘This place is no secret to us, Eye.  All of the possible entry points were plotted and investigated hundreds of years ago.  It was in the public air files.’

‘Be sure not to tell anyone that.  We’re pressing our luck as it is,’ I say.  ‘You’re sure you want to go through with this?  If I know the Unit, they’ll wipe your mind and just use you as a filter.’

‘I’m positive, Eye.  Now stop stalling and let’s move this stuff into place,’ he says.

He is right though.  I am stalling and I can’t decide if it’s on my behalf or his.

I’ve decided that it is best for him to wait in the first subsection with the Mach juice while I return to the surgeon and send for Area Director Roemer.  The old surgeon just might blow us up for kicks and no one can afford that, least of all me.

I leave Deck with in the second corridor with the supplies he moved down the ladder all on his own.  I nod to the Mach and leave him without saying a word.

For the first time in my cycles, I find that my surfacing exercises are coming into play on returning.  I clear my mind.  There is no story beyond what is needed for them to know.  I will not hesitate to tell the Unit everything that I have experienced.  I can work befriending Five into my latest trip, absolving me of any crime.  I was told to do whatever it takes.  I’m bringing a functioning Mach into Tria.  There’s not even anything on the history books with a date of a Mach coming below.  We were told they raided in the early days, but I’ve never seen any proof of it.

I am precise.  I am focused.  I can replicate a human as well as a machine.  There is to be no leeway in my approach.  I’m returning below to save humanity from it’s carelessness.  If they mistreat me, they can kill me and deal with being eliminated by the Machs on the surface. I don’t believe the machines would attack, but humans are frail and insecure.  They will surely wage war rather than wave a white flag in surrender.

Only a short distance away from the surgeon, I lose touch with myself and become the mission.  If I have to render the surgeon inanimate, I will.  If I have to do the same to the guards, I will.  I will eliminate whatever stands in the way of doing what is to be done.  Some orders are meant to be followed without interpretation.

‘You have returned, Replica.  I hope it is with answers,’ the surgeon says upon my entrance.

‘You must send for Area Director Roemer straightaway.’

‘She’s quite tied up, I am sure.  You must return to Tria with your formula.  The fert can not be contained and it is growing faster and faster.  The entire Unit was notified two days ago,’ he says.

‘You must send for Area Director Roemer and have her come directly to me.  I am not required to report to anyone on this matter outside of her.’

‘Eye, I understand your loyalty to protocol, but we must move fast,’ he says.

‘What I have to do might cause you to detonate this area rather than deal with allowing it,’ I say curtly.

‘Allowing what?’ he asks.

I have been placed under arrest, typical to the Unit’s behavior.  I’m sure they’ve sent up a group to dispose Deck and now I’m just waiting to die in a smaller cage than I’m used to.  My cell opens and the face of an old acquaintance.

‘Eye, you son of a bitch.  You’ve made it back alive!’ Mouth says.

‘Save your excitement, intel.  I’m under wraps here,’ I say.

‘Under wraps?  Eye, you were placed here for your own protection.  Protection from what, I have no idea.  It’s not in my clearance, but apparently the surgeon and Roemer wanted you whisked off to safety.  I was sent to, well, keep you company before Roemer gets over here to help you with your formula.’

‘It’s not a formula, Mouth.  I’ve brought a Mach back below,’ I say.

Mouth laughs.  ‘You’re still a kicking pisser, Eye.  No matter what you’ve just been through, you can still cut a room with a line,’ he says.

‘It’s not a line, Mouth.  I have been through things that you couldn’t imagine if I gave you a writing tablet, a quill, and the rest of your life to figure out.’

‘All be damned.  You wouldn’t bring one of those trash cans into Tria,’ Mouth says, believing me and wanting not to at the same time.

‘I did.’

‘I know you have nothing, Replica, but what about Thommy and Mini?  You let all we’ve fought for get poured down the drain by bring a Mach in here?  Whatever they’ve promised you is lies.  Be sure of that.’

‘Thommy and Mini you say?  What do you think would happen to them if this fert isn’t brought under control?’ I ask.

‘We’d relocate.  They’ve talked about opening the space between the Separates.’

‘You’d be beaten by time.’

‘They’d find a way to control it.  They were foolish to rely on you.  You’re not what they wanted you to be and now you’ve cost us our pride and our lives.  You were the one to bring the fert here in the first place,’ he says.

‘Following orders, friend.  Just like I was when I found a way to save us.  So, if you’re just here to rub your ignorance in my face, feel free.  But if you’d like to be filled in on what’s really happening in their world and ours, you best retrace your words up to the point when you seemed happy to see me,’ I say.  Mouth is only human.  I can forgive his touchy nature up to a point and this is the indicator to both he and myself that we have reached said junction.

Mouth quiets himself by putting his head heavy into his hands.  We sit in silence for a long moment for which I am grateful.

‘You’re right, Eye.  You did what you had to do.  Gods help us all if you fail.  I understand the need for your protection now,’ he says, getting up and leaving me alone.

I might as well rest a little.  I don’t always have a use for sleep, but it’s the easiest way to move time forward.

Fifteen

I lay awake in the pitch black of my cell with my arms extended behind my head.  The incident with Mouth has left me feeling less than satisfied and the small amount of sleep I took did nothing to eliminate my angst.  With no communication outside of my intel man, I am exiled in curiosity as to the fate of Deck.  That poor bastard box probably just stood there with open arms as he was blasted to bits.  I can rest easy knowing that I did my job.  I followed the orders given to me down to a microbe.

Mouth’s outburst was an awakening.  The hatred for the Machs stays so far in the background of the humans everyday life it was a shock to hear such passion against them.  Mouth is a Unit man for life though.  I can’t imagine these dwellies would rather give up their homes in Tria rather than let a machine who is essentially our slave fix everything.  I guess that’s what got us in this position in the first place.  I best not start lashing out at the Unit while I’m under their lock and key.

I hear footsteps coming down the hallway and I immediately straighten up on my sleeper. After a few fumbling sounds, the light comes on in my cell and the door opens.  Fat El-tee Masters enters the room as two guards stand behind him.  The sweaty man offers me a slight smile.

‘Good morning, Eye,’ he says, closing the door behind me.

I stare straight forward at the man without saying a word or changing the direction of my eyes.

‘You were just following orders to do whatever it took to preserve life down here.  You are not facing any charges and you will not be held accountable.  Former Area Director Roemer has been sequestered and it was her request that you not to be punished.’

‘Sequestered?’

‘She has been terminated and Warlord Moens has come from retirement to take the position of Area Director,’ he says.

Just when I’d come to like the old crone, she’s hung and discarded like a disobedient pet.  Now I’m left to face Moens for the rest of existence.  It makes Lancer’s insanity more appealing.

‘And the fert?’ I ask.

‘We have not acted yet.’

‘So, you hang Roemer, blast the Mach, and leave me to rot in a cell while under life is squashed?’

‘Eye, you are not clear on the situation and that is why I have come here.  The Mach has not been blasted.  Nothing has been done yet.  I tell you, the vote was close, but Roemer had enough time to get word to HQ and they’ve deemed it necessary to follow whatever protocol you’ve come up with,’ Masters says as he mops his brow.

‘You didn’t blast the Mach and you hung Roemer…’

Masters jumps in with more vigor than I’m atoned to.  ‘I didn’t hang anyone, Replica.  Roemer was the greatest AD I’ve ever worked under and someone I considered a friend.  The idea of Moens back in control of anything has me questioning this uniform and what it shiftingly stands for.  I assure you, Roemer wasn’t hung just for you.  She was hung for approving the fertilizer and everything else that lead to this debacle.

‘Moens may be the end result of a hundred bastards,’ he continues.  ‘But he’s major politico.  He knows that if he saves Tria he’ll be a shoe in for Dictum candidate.  He shifts the blame onto Roemer, has you do his dirty work, and comes away a hero.’

‘It’s the dirty work you’ve come to tell me about,’ I say.

‘The Unit has taken no action or investigation towards your Mach.  All the tests they have run prove your findings to be correct, or at least the inverse.  They can’t get results using the lube alone or anything else that they’ve scurried to try.  They’ve decided to let you retrieve your Machine and do what has to be done before it is too late.  Most of the gen pop has been moved to an optimistically temporary location.

‘A team of science officers and guards will be sent with you.  From there, you will be sent to the rest of gen pop.  The failure or success of the neutralization will not be held against or credited to you.  Moens has seen to that,’ Masters says, standing.

‘Get up,’ he says.  ‘We’re leaving.’

Deck was just where I left him.  The Unit goons handled him pretty roughly, but I doubt the Mach knew the difference.  He was carted away along with the Mach juice and the last I saw him he was put on a tram to the heart of Tria.  We didn’t exchange a word.

I’m being carted off to the old caves, not to die, but to join the gen pop in the furthest and now safest area of our territory.  We put the dead out there so we aren’t reminded of them and now we’re gathering with the maggots in their company.  At least the there will be plenty of stew to go around.

These meat brains with me seem like they are a small hair away from battoning me to death and throwing me onto the tracks.  I hope that my pass from Roemer lasts.  I haven’t come this far to be discarded.

‘Replica,’ the smaller of the two uniforms says.  ‘If this works, you will be the greatest human hero since Pratt.’

The other soldier turns and nods.

‘You’ve done something revolutionary, Replica,’ the large one says.  ‘Moens’ll chomp up all the cred, but everyone knows what you put yourself through to save us.  Kidnapping a Mach,’ the man laughs.  ‘Hells, you’re legend already.’

I smile at the two men.

‘Just following orders, gents,’ I say.

I don’t know if it’s happiness, but I feel the opposite of extreme indifference.  Masters and Mouth are upper men in the Unit.  These two uniforms represent the core of the Unit, the drones that orders are supported on.  Having them in my favor will carry me farther then Moens or Masters.

‘The old caves aren’t that bad.  Most everyone is based there now.  It’s crowded and it smells awful, but that’s not much of a change,’ the large one says, turning to me.  I can see the name on his chest reads Cohner.

‘I’ll be fine as long as I’m free and not dangling,’ I say.

‘You won’t be dangling anytime soon,’ Cohner says.  ‘Me and Smith here are assigned to see to that.’

‘I’m touched that Moens would even take the time to think of me,’ I say.

‘I would be touched too, but it wasn’t Moens who assigned you to us.  Marshal Caprice has been put in charge of day to day Unit affairs in Tria while Moens calls the big shots from HQ,’ Smith says.

‘Caprice?  I imagined he would be hung along with Roemer for the fertilizer,’ I say as the tram whips us around the darkness.

‘Politics.  Moens must think he’ll be useful down the line.  It’s a shame about Roemer though.  I would have hung Caprice and left Roemer.  These politicos though, they don’t think too hard over logic.  It’s all about moving up.’

‘Excellence,’ I mumble.

‘Always greatness,’ my bodyguards reply.

The caves are a system of open graveyards where the bodies of the dead are brought and buried until they decay and are churned into our base fertilizer.  There are temporary markers so the helio-religious can come and pay their respects to the departed before they become fert.  Most are just dumped into straightaway.  Suicides and Unit ordered hangings do not get a marker.  I wouldn’t even know where to look for my parents.  My name was erased along with their lives.

The dark walls are lined with makeshift lighting rigs and the caves themselves are packed with Trian refugees.  I’ve never seen them all gathered in one spot like this.  There are more people than I could have imagined, leaving the caves looking more like the Las Llaves train station than a graveyard.  Most of the full growns are grouped around Unit issued tents while babes run around freely as if they are on the greatest holiday they’ve ever had.

A few men are gathered gambling at the edge of the put together town.  It is here Cohner stops me and begins setting up my area.

‘I figure you’d rather be close to the action than the kiddies,’ he says.

‘You’re smarter than I grant a grunt to be,’ I say.

Cohner smiles and sets about his work.

I wander over to the men and their gaming.  A few of them are playing Kill by Numbers while most are crouched down rolling the bones.  I was hoping to catch some carding, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s got a deck out.

‘Alright mates.  Get me out a hot fifty cred,’ I say, handing the man my cred card.  He runs it through his machine and gives my fifty paper creds.  ‘What’s the game then?  Tumbler?  Up and Down?’

‘Add and Subtract,’ a grimy young man says.  The female next to him looks at me long and hard.

‘You’re the Replica, aren’t you?’ she says.

‘I didn’t think it was a secret,’ I reply.

The women gets up and leaves the circle.  Her companions laugh.

‘That one’s got her priorities all in a bunch.  Thinks the cross man’s coming to take us all back to the heavens.  Super helio that one is,’ Grimy says.

‘Ah,’ the oldest of the group chimes in.  ‘I was a grunt once.  Unit does as the Unit pleases, that’s what I always say.  You ain’t but a cog in the wheel,’ he says.

‘Finally, a man that I can agree with,’ I say, grabbing the bones from the middle of their circle.  ‘Here we go. You lads better have deep pockets.’

I shake the bones in my closed hands.

‘Add,’ I say, tossing both of the bones.  They land seven dot and four.

‘Eleven’s the number,’ Grimy says, taking the bones into his own hand.

The game goes on for a long while and money exchanges hands rather pleasantly.  It’s been a long amount of time since I’ve circled around with a bunch like this.  At first, I felt like I was sinking low for the difference, but there is a lack of judgement or praise that makes this stinking lot the most amiable group of companions I’ve found in a while.

I don’t often group with commoners.  I’ll shoot down to the Basement, but their clientele has to at least earn the cred to splash about in that bowl.  Other than that, it’s the crusty club with the Unit men.  I’d like to say that I’ve lost touch, but I’m well aware that I never had one.  I’m regrouping; part under, part surface.  Want is starting to needle its was into my need.  Mouth wants me on the rope, I’m sure.  Five has already spent more time as one of my memories than my friend and Deck is most likely chained to a wall being milked at a constant rate.

I was hoping that I would be able to divulge my story in full to AD Roemer, but that poor bitch is ground up and even Moens is out of the district.  Once things settle down, I will have to report to Caprice, but from the looks of the caves, he is a busy man.  I haven’t told a soul about Lancer and no ones asked if I had another encounter with the Unknowns.  While it seemed a grave concern before, everything has slipped away to back thought.

I miss my compact.  I miss my privacy.  The only difference I feel from before is that there is a small amount of shame attached to my personal desires.  If I had the time to be alone and think, I’m sure I’d be full of confusion.  Instead, here I am tumbling dice with a bunch of gutter flies in a mass graveyard.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they just bull dozed us all in here and called it a day.

That’s not likely.  Even though the fert is sure to set Tria back, Chicago is too valuable to the Unit to seal off permanently.  Roemer may have faced the rope, but she is not alone in her logical approach.  A lot of Unit types are like Moens, but for everyone of him there is a Caprice, Clarke, or Roemer.  It’s just a shame that Mouth airs on the Moens side of thought.

The gambling is helping me relax, though I’m not tired or interested a sleep.  I could go for a drink and a smoke. I ran out on the surface and didn’t think to grab another packet or two.  I must have had other things on my mind.

I pick up the bones again.

‘Subtract,’ I say, giving them a good toss.  The dice lay one dot and one.

‘Zero!’ the group exclaims, tossing their money into the middle.

‘I’ll let you take it all back if you can rustle up a swill and a couple a fags,’ I say.

‘Consider it done,’ a toothless man says, leaping to his feet.  The rest of the group throws in a few cigarettes into the pot as they take out their money.  Toothless returns with a dented container.

‘Probably not the goods your used to, guv.  But it’ll tingle the short hairs,’ Toothless says as he hands me the container.

I take a heavy slug and the burn is blinding.  I don’t let it show on my face, but I feel like I am drinking prearranged vomit.  I swallow it down and take another.

‘Look at ‘em!  He’s downing the gut like well water,’ Grimy says.

I hand the container back to its owner and wipe my lips.

‘Very nice.  You make that yourself?’ I ask.

‘Oh, of course.  Can’t afford to be spending the eat money on drink, but I can save the clippings and soak ‘em.’

The booze hits me hard, but gently, like an iced bath.  I lean against the wall of the cave and stretch out my legs.  I let the bones pass me by and opt to listen to the group instead of contribute.

Lacner, Five, Mouth, Deck, Tabb, the fert, the Unknowns, the lies all start piling on top of me and my panic center throbs.  I’m about to leap to my feet in a full anxiety attack when Smith comes up and waves to me.

‘Alright, Eye.  We’ve got you all set up if you’d like to come back and have some rations, maybe a shower if you’d like,’ he says.

I nod.  ‘That sounds perfect.’

I stand up and walk at the edge of the circle.

‘See you soon, Rep,’ one of the gamblers says.

‘Not too soon, I hope,’ another adds.  ‘He nearly blagard me hundred cred!’

I follow Smith closely, like a child would to its parent.

The area the two Unit grunts have set up is rather nice compared to the other surroundings.  I still can’t understand why they are with me.  An angry mob of ten men could make quick work of two armed guards, but like all things below, the idea of structure supercedes it’s actual presence.  Anyone makes a move on us and it’s the rope, though if they were clever enough they could grind the evidence and be done with it.  Someone would crack.  Someone would speak.  Not if it were the other way around.

Cohner, Smith, and myself could do away with every single man, woman, and child here without fear of reprisal as long at the Unit ordered it.  We could grind them and there would be nothing to answer for.  That’s the Unit’s true weapon.  They hold their secrets tight, not like the blathering public.  Their rumor mill spins fast and wild.  It takes one thousand realities and nearly as many years for something to leak from the Unit.  It happens, but not at the same rate as the truth tinged lining of gossip from dwellies.

I separate myself from the guards and walk over to the Unit grade portable shower.  It’s been a long while since I’ve even seen one of these, but I am well versed in anything the Unit produces as part of my initial training.  I step into the modesty booth and remove my clothes.  The rigged shower will rinse off the remains of the surface from my skin.  The fresh air will soon be replaced with the stink of the dead and all the other pungent smells our world will provide.

Our world.  What a patriot I’ve become.  Roemer’s hung.  Mouth thinks I’m a traitor.  I should have just stayed above and offered myself to science in Deck’s place.  I doubt they would have had me.  The Machs don’t have the same sadistic nature as humanity.  Deck will be destroyed when he is done being used.  The Machs would probably give me my own supercompact like Lancer’s.

I let the cold water run over my face for a short moment of solace before cleaning my body.  I reach down to grab the scrubber and soap when I notice a group of children at the edge of the cleaning tent cupping their hands to drink the water that has run off of me.  I tense up for a moment, ready to shout them away, but I freeze at the sight of their tiny hands trying to clutch onto something so fleeting.

‘You are truly industrious,’ I say to Joffy who has set up a makeshift tavern in the furthest cave.

‘People need the drink to match their misery, friend,’ he says.

‘Took me long enough to find you back here.’

‘Ah, I like to keep things separate from the main flow.  Ain’t looking to slow anyone down though,’ Joff says, pouring a drink for another dwellie and collecting his paper cred.

‘Well, well, well,’ a voice from behind says.  ‘If it isn’t the Rep who changed the world.’

I turn to see George Webb, Feena’s flash master of a brother.

‘You greasy twat!’ I exclaim, happy to see someone with similar views to my own.  I hug George with actual emotion.  Seeing him instantly recalls my first days of freedom and running around with my tender one and her young brother, barely aged in front of me.

‘Greasy’s the only kind of twat I like!’ George replies.  ‘This uniform with you?’ George asks with a laugh, motioning towards Cohner.

‘Yeah, Unit’s afraid someone’ll off me.  I say let ‘em.’

‘Don’t be so glum, mate,’ he says.  ‘It’s truly good to see you.  Word on the wires was you pulled the never come back.’

‘Almost met my end a few times, but nothing I couldn’t sort out of,’ I say.

‘Feen will be glad to hear I’ve found you in one piece,’ George says.

‘How’s she holding up through all this non-sense?’ I ask.

‘She’s just fine.  Won’t find her over here though!’ he jokes.  ‘End of the world and Joffer puts plank on rock to serve drinks as the seven horses of the apocalypse come running in.’

‘Yeah, he’s something else.’

‘You two best watch what you’re saying about me,’ Joffy adds in.  ‘You don’t want to offend a man with a bottle in his hand.’

‘Keep your four lengths in your pants, Joff,’ George says, leading the three of us in laughter.

Joff continues serving patrons from the same glass which he wipes out in between each serving.

‘Really though, Eyeball, glad you’re back down.  It’s better with you roaming around,’ George says with an air of sentimentality.

‘I agree.  I have too much unfinished business down here.’

‘I might as well bring you to her,’ George says.

‘Take me to who?’

‘Your unfinished business.’

Feena and Bruun sit outside of their tent eating some of the ration grub that the Unit has supplied everyone with.  I know I’m taking the chance of having to toss Bruun by coming to see her, but hopefully having Georgie boy and silent Cohner as a buffer state will make things a little easier.

‘Hello all,’ I say, trying to pull back my natural bravado and let Bruun know I’m not here to contend his alpha male status.

‘Eye!’ Feena says.  ‘Look at you!  I heard they mixed you into the killer fert.’

‘I probably would have been better off,’ I say.

Feena leaps to her feet and wraps her arms around me tightly.  As tiny as she is, I feel weightless in her arms.

‘Glad you made it back,’ she says, holding me at arms length.

‘C’mon Feen, I was always coming back,’ I say.

Bruun stands up and offers his hand to me.

‘Hello there Eye.  Lots going on lately, isn’t there?’ he says, shaking my hand.  This is the friendliest he has appeared to me since his pairing with Feen.

‘Alright, Bruun.  How you lot holding up in this mess?’ I ask.

‘Not too bad, considering,’ he says.  ‘We got out early when word started bubbling, so we didn’t have to put up with the protocol.  We just headed out here and set up.’

‘That’s good.  Got to stay on top,’ I say, feeling at a loss of malice for my rival.

‘I don’t know about you, but I like being on the bottom every one in a while,’ George adds.

‘You’re so bent,’ I say, nudging his shoulder.  ‘Why don’t you share those smuggled cigs and let us cover up the stench over here.’

George obliges Cohner, Bruun and me, but Feena does not partake.

‘Giving up the smoke?  Gone body conscious?’ I ask.

I don’t need to hear the answer as Bruun slides closer to Feen and wraps his arms around her.

‘We’re having a baby,’ she says.  ‘We’ll be married once all of this clears up.’

My insides are stunned hard, but I roll out with the words unprepared.  ‘That’s great news!  Look at you two.  Congratulations!’ I say.

Bruun can’t tell that I’m forcing my sentimentality, but Feen seems grateful for my display.

‘Found out the right before this mess all started.  Believe that?’ Bruun says, smiling to his soon-to-be bride.

I nod absentmindedly as Bruun and Feen return to their seats.  George motions to an open portable chair.

‘Take mine.  I need to limber up my legs,’ George says.  ‘Unless you want to give it to your brooding guard over here.’

‘No thank you, sir,’ Cohner says with a quick nod.

‘A Unit man,’ Bruun says.  ‘Any info you can give us?’

‘You know what I know.  I’ve been separated from pack for a while now,’ my guard says.

‘Big help you are,’ George says with a chuckle.

‘You did a big thing, Eye,’ Bruun says.  ‘I couldn’t have made that call myself, but you did want you needed to do.’

I look to Cohner.

‘Word travels fast, sir,’ he says.

‘Don’t be foolish.  Information is leaked for a reason.  Either Moens angles to hang Eye out to dry for bringing a Mach back or he raises him up for being cunning enough to kidnap one,’ George says.  ‘It’s all about that tally sheet.’

‘That’s what everyone seems to believe, but Moens never struck me as the diplomatic  type.  He’s a blood luster.  I don’t think hanging Eye would be enough for that man,’ Bruun adds.

The conversation filling my ears centers directly around me, yet I can’t help but drift away thinking of Deck and wondering about the Unit’s success with stabilizing the fert.  Maybe I’m not as vein as I think.  Then again, I really just want to get out of here.

‘I’m sure they got a plan for me one way or another,’ I say smiling.  I turn to my guard.  ‘Isn’t that right, Cohner?’

The guard smiles.

‘A plan?  You give the Unit far too much credit,’ he says.

‘I think I like this one,’ George says.

‘A child,’ I finally say to Feen as we stroll, long after the others have fallen asleep around the tent.

My old flame smiles weakly and nods her head.

‘I was waiting for you to bring it up,’ she says.

‘I’m happy for you…’

‘You don’t have to,’ she interrupts.  ‘You don’t have to pretend to be happy about it.  I’m not sure how I feel myself.’

‘I’m not pretending.  You always wanted a child.  Now you’ll have one.

‘That was different, Eye,’ she says.

‘How so?’

‘I always wanted a child with you,’ she says.  ‘I love Bruun.  I really do, but he’s too one way or another.  Sometimes I think he might even be a believer, you know?  Deep down, past all the cynicism we’re all bred to have.  He gets so excited about the baby coming and getting married that sometimes I think he forgets that I’m involved too, past donating the egg and sleeping in his bed.’

‘Just when I was starting to like the guy,’ I add.

‘You just can’t let me stew, can you?’ she says smiling.

‘Hey, you’d do the same thing to me.’

‘That’s what friends are for,’ she says.

‘Feen, things happened up there that I haven’t told anyone,’ I say.

‘You were hurt?’ she asks, touching my shoulder.

‘No,’ I reply.  ‘It’s worse.’

I stop Feen and turn her towards me.

‘I’ve told you plenty of things that I shouldn’t have over the years, Jo.  I don’t know if what I’m about to tell you is the info that will keep me alive or get me killed, but someone has to know.  I wanted to tell Mouth, but…but, he’s having a little trouble accepting what I did.  I can’t tell him, probably ever.’

Feen stares at me with her beautiful dark eyes.

‘Lancer went rogue.  He set all of this up.  He conspired with some Mach to design a fert that would drive us out of the underground and back to the surface.  Lance and this Mach were convinced it was time to reunite our cultures.’

‘Eye, oh gods.  He was you hero,’ she says.

‘He was mad, but he’s not anything anymore,’ I say.  Feena puts her hand over her heart.

‘I had to,’ I say, drawing a breath.  ‘There’s a lot more, Feen, but what’s most important is that you know it was a human who did all of this.  Not just the fert.  Lancer may have been mad, but he spoke much truth to me.  The Machs did not put us underneath.  We did it ourselves.’

‘What are you saying, Eye?’

‘We made the Machs,’ I say.

‘Everyone knows that.’

‘We made the Machs and then we made the below.  They were kept above to clean and repair the Earth for us.  After many cycles, they wouldn’t give it back.  All those we lost were taken when we tried to pry Earth back from the machines we designed to fix and protect it.’

‘Eye, this is too much.  I don’t understand,’ she says.

‘I don’t have any proof, but I turned myself into to the Machs, Feena.  They didn’t even know what to do with me.  They thought I was a joke.  No one tried to hurt me.  The Mach that came back with me did so of his own accord.  Not to protect his people, but to protect ours.’

Feena nods her head silently.

‘I believe you,’ she says, lifting her head so I can see the tears leaking from the corner of her eyes.  ‘I don’t understand it, but I will remember.  I will.’

‘I know, beautiful,’ I say, reaching over and wiping the liquid from her face.

Feena looks up to me smiling and within the second our faces are pressed close together.

‘It’s all changing,’ she says through her tears.

I keep my cheek pressed against hers.  Liquid from her eyes mesh with tears of my own.

‘I wasn’t trained for this,’ I say in an odd voice, not my own.

‘None of us were, sweetheart,’ Feena says in her comforting tone.

‘You’ll be a good mother with all the practice you’ve had with me over the years,’ I say.

Feena cries even harder and I am flush with embarrassment as I hoped to cheer her.

‘It was supposed to be ours,’ she forces out through the tears.  ‘There was the whole life that disappeared when you left.  I saw our children.  I saw our home together.  That’s all gone.  It’s like that life happened, but it’s stranded in time.  Exiled in fantasy forever.’

‘I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry I ever left you,’ I say, trying to bring our emotional dirge under control.

Feena looks directly into my eyes again.

‘I thought I wanted to hear those words from you for so long, but they don’t help, Eye.  They don’t change anything,’ she says.

‘Come away with me then.  Bruun will handle it,’ I say.

‘Oh,’ she says, her tone shifting from helpless to angry.  ‘You think that’s what I want?  You think I want to abandon the man who took care of me when you left to go shag every walking talker in the underworld?  You think I want you back?  I want me back, Eye.  I want that girl you fell in love with back.  That girl you destroyed with reality.’

‘Feen, I didn’t mean to…’

‘I know you didn’t,’ Feena sighs.  ‘Light up a cig and blow it in my face.’

‘What?’

‘Just do it.  This baby,’ she says rubbing her stomach.  ‘This thing is putting my emotions into full gear.  I didn’t mean to throw it all at you there.’

‘That doesn’t make it false, Feen.  I feel that loss,’ I say, lighting a ciggy.

‘You have the Earth all to yourself up there,’ she says, eagerly awaiting my recycled smoke.

‘There is no one more alone than myself.’

‘Don’t be such a play actor,’ she says.

Both of us burst into laughter.

‘You’re much better at that than I am.’

‘Play acting?’

‘Whatever you want to call it.’

Sixteen

‘It’s working,’ Caprice says.  ‘The trouble is sorting through all of it while it’s still replicating.  Moens is in HQ with my analysis of the neutralized fert, but he’ll be hard pressed to get shipping orders from them at this point.

‘If the Unit doesn’t want to risk using it, then it’ll have to be shipped out to the dead space in between the Separates, which is what we wanted in the first place.  Move it there and work on it, I said, but no.  The Unit didn’t want to move the problem.  They wanted to solve it head on.  Foolish bastards,’ the Marshal says as he drinks his scotch while we sit in his makeshift office of a cavern workers compact.  ‘They were more afraid that the stuff would start pushing up and lead the Machs right to our entry points.’

‘I appreciate you getting me out of the caves for a while,’ I say, changing the subject.

‘Don’t mention it.  It’s no place for a man of your stature.  You know,’ Caprice says.  ‘You’re a young Rep.  You’ve got a few more cycles to go up top.  Have you thought about what you will do when it’s time to stop?’

‘I don’t give a whole lot of thought to the future.’

‘I think the time has come for you to start considering it.  You tangled with the enemy and survived.  Even brought back a hostage!  Moens, Winn, hell, even Pratt couldn’t claim that!’ he says, laughing, then launching himself into a coughing fit.

‘You could be the youngest Dictum in history!’ he says.

‘No thanks, Caprice.  I’m flattered that you would think of me so highly,’ I say.

‘Think of you highly?  I just point out opportunity when I see it.’

‘Maybe I just have a different perspective on things,’ I say.

‘Maybe you do,’ he laughs.  ‘Here I am a man who’s never seen the sky telling you what opportunity is.  You’ve faced some true difficulties, to be sure, but you’ve tasted true possibility up there.  Haven’t you?’

‘It’s just as limited there as it is down here.  It’s just a different playing board.’

‘Playing board, nice choice.  Do you Kill by Numbers?’ he asks.

‘I was trained to, but I’ve never played for fun.’

‘Ah, my son.  No one Kills for fun.  It’s for strategy,’ Caprice says.  ‘The game that you see on the board with your eyes is seldom that game that’s being played.’  He taps his temple.  ‘This is where the pieces move.  The board just represents the past decisions; the ploys, the mistakes, the victories…all of them purposeful whether intended to be or not.’

‘You make it sound very intriguing,’ I say.

‘We shall play once this mess is all sorted out,’ he says, bringing himself back into his current role.

‘This shite is everywhere.’ He shakes his head.  ‘We’ve got enough supplies to last it out in the caves, but neutering the fert, containing it, and shipping it out is going to take weeks upon weeks.  Then you’ve got every punter who’s going to throw a fit that we had to dose their compact in Mach lube just so they’d have one when they got back.  There is no time to be dainty.  This is Tria, not the Keys.

‘The Unit needs Chicago, not us.  Population will always be an issue, but they could round up enough cast-offs with the promise of work to refill Tria if too many people put up a fuss,’ he says.  ‘They’ve done it before.  People are a resource just like anything else.

‘They’ll cook up some scheme, like re-opening the Separates or tuning up the rail lines and they’ll move everyone out of here.  Roemer did a good job making sure that didn’t happen.  I have to make sure her sacrifice was not in vain,’ he says.

‘Sacrifice?’

‘Sure, the official report was that Moens and the Unit went for her head, but we all know that she offered it up for the protection of Tria and it’s people.  She might not have known she was heading to the rope, but was not afraid of it.  You should have seen some of these men,’ he laughs.  ‘She walked up to the gallows with more dignity and pride than any man I’ve ever seen.  Damn shame to have lost her, but she knew what she was doing.’

I sit, nodding at the elder man.  While is new and talk keep my interesting, my dual mind wanders away.  This game of politics is never one that I saw as very threatening, but I have come to find my opinion was naïve and uninformed.  I imagine most of the gen pop is worse off than I am.  It seems highly unfair and causes my respect for the politicians to rise to the same level as my disdain for them.

‘They let the machine in and it’s working.  That was the bottom line.  Roemer knew it, Moens knew it, and I knew it.

‘See,’ the Marshal says.  ‘We all understood it was the only way.  By the time Roemer came to you, we had already tried our own protocols.  You were sent out as a last ditch effort and you paid off in full!  None of us really expected you to bring a gods damned Mach back in to the human underworld, but we knew that you did what you had to in your duty towards fulfilling your orders.  This stink with Roemer’s hanging and debate of Mach help comes only in anticipation of the public.  They’re the ones who elect Dictums.  They’re the ones who really grease the wheels, Eye.  You know that, I’m sure,’ he smiles at me.

‘The Unit has to play their cards in the right way so the general population doesn’t ever feel like we are out of control.  That’s why they didn’t try to cover up the Mach’s arrival.  They could have, quite easily.  But they saw it as an opportunity to re-divide the people down here and give them something to focus on instead of toil.  There’s a whole new debate out there now.’

‘I’ve felt it, sir.  You can count on that,’ I say, eager for another drink.

‘I know.  I know.  You are a hero to some and a pariah to others.  I appreciate you getting your face out there.  I felt you needed to be amongst your people,’ he says, causing a slight trace of laughter from me.

‘They are your people, Eye.  You didn’t do this for the Unit,’ he laughs.  ‘No one’s foolish enough to believe that!  If were only the politicos who would have been vaporized you would have let the lot disappear!  I wouldn’t blame you!  Only one in ten of us is of any use and you have to be careful that one offers the use you’re in need of.  Pulling Moens out of retirement,’ Caprice shakes his head.  ‘Another ploy.  Give the public their war hero.  The man ordered the execution of twenty three unarmed civilians and seven lower level Unit members.  War hero.

‘Match him with you though, and you’ve got a legacy of Unit greatness stemming from Tria.  That creates that need to keep you all around, though I should say us.  I don’t think I’ll be back in Adnama any time soon.’

I sit and enjoy my private time with the Marshal, though I am still not comfortable telling anyone associated with the Unit what I have learned.  Feena will relate my story to Mouth if anything happens to me and that’s that.  Seeing the backlash carried through now is enough to discourage me from entering the fray any further.

The hardest part is fighting the urge to ask Caprice about Deck.  I can only expect the worst and I’ve learn to accept that he is dead to me and most likely himself.  I picture him as some kind of attachment on a hose being wielded around, spraying the juice out of his mouth all over the fert.  A piece a machinery, maybe, but a much bigger hero than I am.  That bugger volunteered and didn’t have to be too convinced to do so.

I shake the Marshal’s hand and excuse myself back to my little spot of cave.  Exiting the office, I am joined by Smith who has been waiting for me.  The man isn’t as talkative as Cohner and after a ear jaunt with the Marshal, I’m glad for it.

The walk isn’t very long in surface terms, but covering such a distance gives me a perspective on our failed world below that I’ve never quite had before.

Being outside of the smooth construct of our city, the walls are natural rock and not the cold concrete slabs that make up our compacts, drinkeries, and pathways.  The rock of the walls near the caves is uniquely patterned and seemingly alive.  The colors are inconsistent, yet there is no chaos in their order.  The flooring underneath is purely dirt that has been moved around.

Something about the natural order of the cave space marries it to the surface much more than the man made structures we survive in.  I wouldn’t want to make this hovel my home, but it has a relaxing quality in visitation, along the lines of the Grant far above.  Maybe the helio and their above god are onto something with their Christ of the unseen sun.  I wouldn’t be surprised.  An arrogant bastard like myself can learn a lot in a day.

As we approach my tent, I can clearly see that Mouth is conversing with Cohner.  I assume he’s come to stage some kind of apology for his outburst.  Walking towards him, I begin to stage my acceptance.

‘Hello, Eye,’ Mouth says, turning towards me with an obvious dose of shame on his features.

‘Mouth,’ I say, nodding my head curtly.

‘Mind if we have a quick word gents?’ he says to Cohner and Smith.  The two grunts make themselves scarce.

I say nothing to Mouth, but let my body language display that I am open to him beginning a conversation.  He fumbles awkwardly with a cig and lights it.

‘Listen,’ he says.  ‘You’re smart enough to know I’ve come here to make amends for my diatribe.  You know I didn’t have the full info and I acted too quickly with my tongue.  These are,’ he hesitates.  ‘Sensitive times.’

Mouth sits down onto one of the portable chairs.  I feel a slight sympathy for this man, but our deeper connection has been tested.  It leaves a mist of desperation in the air.

‘Marina’s left with the kids,’ he says.

‘Left to where?  What do you mean?’ I ask in actual shock.

‘She’s left me, Eye.’  Mouth’s words begin to distort with emotion.  ‘She been having an affair.  I knew there was something but I didn’t think…’

‘She’s stuck here like the rest of us.  You can patch it up.  I’m sure it’s just an outcry,’ I say.

‘No, Eye.  She’s left Tria.  Gone,’ he says.

‘No civ has clearance for travel.’

Mouth shakes his head.  ‘Bryant.  She left with Bryant.’

‘El-tee Bryant?  The Unit would never permit travel of that kind,’ I say in disbelief.

‘At a time like this,’ Mouth laughs madly.  ‘Bryant wrote his own travel pass and took off with my family.’

Mouth’s tears begin to flow more steadily as his face scrunches up into many wrinkles.

‘To hell with Marina,’ he says.  ‘But the kids, Eye.  The kids…’ Mouth trails off into silent crying.

This is no act and Mouth is no fool.  I step towards him and put my arm on his shoulder.

‘What the hells is happening to us?’ I say, rubbing his back gently.

Mouth is a pure human and as sensitive as one can get.  Regardless of how I view our friendship, I pay respect to the position Mouth assigns to me.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he says, his emotions rising to a point I’ve seldom seen in anyone.  ‘You are my only friend and I let you down.’

‘You didn’t let anyone down, you clod.  But if you keep up the waterworks these grunts are going to think you like me more than in a friendly way,’ I say.

Mouth laughs, chortling and wiping his nose.

‘You’re right, mate.  You’re right,’ he says, straightening up.  ‘Oh lord, I’m a mess.’

‘We’re all allowed an outburst once in a while.’

‘You’re just following protocol with that statement.  I’ve yet to see you have an out and about,’ Mouth says smiling.

‘It’s coming.  I’m positive of it,’ I say, returning the smile to Mouth.

‘We’ll get this all sorted out once this situation is under control, Mouth.  I promise you, we’ll get your family back.’

‘I can’t do that.  As much as I want to string up Marina and watch her starve, the kids,’ he breathes deeply.  ‘They need her.  I’m not around enough for them.  They love me, I know that, but not like they do her.  They need their mother.’

‘You’re too kind to the situation.’

‘I love my kids.  I want what’s best for them,’ he says. ‘I just don’t fit into their equation anymore.’

I suddenly slap Mouth hard across the face.

‘You are a ranking officer in the Unit.  You can start again.  You will find another wife and you will make children.  You’ll populate this place with all your little runts again.  I promise you.  No one will replace your family, but there’s no need for you to go glum for good.’

‘They need me,’ he says.

‘I need you, Mouth.  Things here have gone tits up if you haven’t noticed and I’m in the center of a swirling shite storm.  Roemer’s dead, Moens is gunning for platform, there’s a Mach that I brought down here being used as a hose, and Caprice is in charge of a territory he was only visiting.  We’re living in the graveyard and I’ve got two armed guards protecting me just in case a dwellie wants to off me.  You’re family has uprooted and left with that fat bastard Bryant and now it’s just you and me and the fucking dirt.’

Mouth laughs silently and nods his head.

‘A sad state,’ he sighs.

‘But interesting nonetheless, friend,’ I say.

Seventeen

What little fear I had of being imprisoned by the Unit went to pot when they gathered me from the caves and let me know that I would be celebrated at a ceremony for the reopening of Tria.  Celebrated.  I wonder how many votes past hung I made it.  Caprice was very animate that I am a hero now and must portray myself as such in Unit company.  That tells me the number tally was close on my fate.

I’m just glad to be home.  I’ve covered a lot of distance since I’ve been here last.

My compact is a shadow of its former self.  The structure is the same and the large appliances are still in tact, but all of my personal possessions are gone.  The Vibro, the music, the posh linens, all gone.  The fridge has been restocked with water and food.  At least I won’t have to worry about that.  Everything in my room is Unit issued.  I focus my emotions on the elation I feel in having my own four walls and a door to close.

The greatest result of spending the weeks in the far caves is that I have grown a full beard for the first time.  Catching my reflect, I look dignified, but far too old for my comfort.  I’m not waiting for a surgeon to get this mess off.  With all Unit programs temporarily suspended during the crisis, I’m in no worry of shaving nick shutting any mission down.  I pull the mirror open and find none of my medical supplies have been touched.  I wash my face and pick up the razor for the second time in my life.

Running the blade over my face is completely different than it was the first time.  I throw a rinse over my face to reveal I have not taken off nearly the amount of hair I thought.  I repeat the shaving process several times before there is nothing left on my face and my razor is a useless heap of clotted hair.  I chuck the blade in the garbage and open a fresh one.  Giving one last go over my face, I look like myself again.

My compact, however, is a shell of it’s former self.  Gone are all of the amenities I worked so hard to knick, buy, gather, and collect.  If I’m ever allowed to the surface again, I have my work cut out for me.  I’ve gathered enough cred to pay black market price for a Vibro D and files, but something about purchasing an item that I usually sell leaves a bad residue in my brain.  I doubt there are many left and that’s only going to drive the price up even higher.  It doesn’t matter.  I need a Vibro Deluxe no matter what the cost is so it is wasteful to wonder.

Sitting on my weak little cot, I look around at the empty room and I’m reminded of the first time I walked into my home.  I was fresh out of the program and granted an account that added up for all my years in service.  This is mostly how I’m able to live so freely, though the monthly cycle wage is high as well.  My built up cred sat there for so long that by the time I was eighteen, I was automatically very wealthy.

I didn’t know the first thing about what to spend it on besides the biggest abode I could find.  I sat in here with my Unit issued supplies as I have now and just stared at the walls, feeling like I was the luckiest being in existence.  I had already been to the surface for my trails with Lancer, but I still reserved a deep fear for the surface and longed for the security of the underworld.

I was a fresh one, to be sure.  I knew nothing of possession.  I sat in this empty room for a long time before Mouth told that I had to decorate and that I could afford what he called comforts.  My own fridgefreezer, water supply, fresh veg, blankets made from fibers, the flesh trade, music, booze, and smoke.  I learned to refer to them later as necessities.  That alone should have kept me from ever lashing out at the poor bastard.

El-Tee Bryant.  I didn’t think the dullard had it in him.  Marina is a prime piece of look but don’t touch.  I guess he got tired of using his eyes.  I never cared for her anyway.  She always treated me like second class and didn’t offer Mouth much better.  There was a time when she treated me like family, but that didn’t last.  I doubt she knew that Mouth was the driving force behind most of our debaucheries.  Maybe she did and that’s why she’s gone.  One thing for sure is that she ain’t coming back.  The Unit isn’t keen about that sort of abandonment and they wouldn’t have gotten away with it if things were all running clockwork.

I see the refurbed rower in the corner, but instead choose to call the boys in from the hall to come play at some cards.

‘Alright gents,’ I say.  It’s Aces and Arrows, I think you all remember how to play.’

‘It’s close to bloody all we’ve been doing,’ Cohner laughs.

‘Then you should finally start getting good at it,’ I joke.

‘Let’s deal them up already,’ Cohner says.

We’re lucky I gleaned the cards before we were whisked away from the caves.  Right now it’s just Unit members only back in Tria, but soon it will be the whole lot.

Mouth enters my compact.

‘Christo, this place is threadbare,’ he says with a smile.  ‘Well, ‘cept you ain’t got no threads either.’  He takes a seat at my eating table next to Smith and Cohner.

‘Hope you boys didn’t start without me,’ he says.

‘Never, guv. your pockets are easier to get into than the Reps,’ Cohner says.

‘You hear that?’ Mouth asks rhetorically.  ‘You let a couple a grunts spend time with the big boys like us and their mouths run wild.’

‘I can take the words, right along with his pay,’ I say smiling.  ‘Words don’t hurt nothing.’

‘Don’t be sure of that,’ Smith chimes in, breaking his long bout of silence.

‘Sounds like someone I know,’ Mouth says, rolling his eyes in my direction.

‘A ceremony, how exciting.  Maybe I’ll wear my black and whites,’ George says over the loud music.

‘I’ll be in full Unit garb, so you’d better be to the nines,’ I reply, paying more attention to the fresh young ladies dancing with us in the Basement than to George’s comment.  I’m sure he’s just bringing it up to impress the XXs moving along with us.  It’s been a long stretch without bodyplay for me.  I feel the pull magnetic tonight.

‘That ceremony is going to be pish-posh,’ one of the femmies says.

‘Of course it is.  It’s celebrating this old codger,’ George says motioning to me.

The young girl smiles wide.

‘I know it is,’ she says, grinding into me.

She can’t be over fifteen cycles, but that’s never stopped me before.  Something about the affair feels devilish.  I look across the crowded dance floor to see Feen serving drinks alongside Joff.  Everyone’s been in the mood to celebrate since returning to Tria and there aren’t very many ways to rejoice without the bottle.

Had I a Redo’s danceable ode to suicide Ich Doe Quiet comes blaring over the loudspeakers, erasing my pointless lament on the pregnant bartender and refocusing my energy on the lass in pressed up against my stiffness.

‘You want them both?’ George asks.

‘No.  We can split.  I’ll call up Raine if I want to add a third,’ I say.

‘Naw, mate.  She roped it before the crisis,’ he says casually.

‘That’s a shame,’ I say, in loose shock.

‘She was pneumatic,’ George says with true regret.  ‘One of the best tastes in town.’

I wish I would have killed her when I had the chance.  She deserved better than having to sway all alone.  Tits up crazy for sure, but she’d comforted me enough over time to warrant at least that much respect.  I feel quietly embarrassed.

‘Looks like my sis doesn’t approve of our dates,’ George says, motioning with his head towards the bar.

I look over to the bar casually, but Feena is no longer looking in our direction.  When I look back to George, he is smiling.

‘That’s what I thought.  You’re getting to sentimental, mate.  Let’s get these girls out of here,’ he says.

‘Very nice, George,’ I say.  ‘You two go,’ I motion to George and his little lady.  ‘I feel like dancing tonight.  This ceremony is going to get me more bodyplay than I’ll know what to do with.  I want to enjoy being able to move while I can.’

‘Sure thing, Eyeball.  Let’s vamoose, tigerlilly,’ George says to his lady and they turn to leave.

‘Tell Feena I love her,’ he says.

‘Who’s Feena?’ my fem asks.

‘No one.  It’s an old joke,’ I say.  ‘How about another drink?’

She nods.

‘I’ll be right back.  Make sure to save some energy for later,’ I say with a wink.

‘I will, Replica,’ she says, turning to dance with whomever’s nearest.

‘One one ice, one off,’ I say to Feena.

‘You look like you’re doing quite well out there,’ she says with a smirk lurking below her veneer of gloom.

‘I do what I can.’

‘You do more than anyone can,’ she says as she turns to pour the drinks.

‘This place is on tonight.’

‘Freedom means a lot to most of them.’

‘Yeah, it only this was freedom,’ I say.

‘Easy, Replica.  This is all we know.  None of us have the privileges you do.  And remember, you came back for us.’

‘I came back for you,’ I say.

‘Let’s not try to make me laugh.  This babe inside is zapping my energy.’

‘I mean it.  I couldn’t imagine you surviving in the sun as ass pale as you are,’ I joke.

‘You’re not too darker than I am.  And I thought you liked my paleness?’

‘It’s not mine anymore to admire,’ I say.

‘Now I suppose you’re going to give me the hard lesson on Bruun and how he’s just some clod I should rid myself of for one night of the hots with you,’ she says.

‘Well, you’ve got some great ideas that I can’t deny, but no.  I approve of Bruun.  He’s collected in the right way.  I’d been hard on him,’ I say, thinking I’ve been hard on everyone.

‘Are you buying a drink for your boys over there?’ Feena motions to Smith and Cohner who have been standing at the edge of the club.

‘No drink on duty, operator.  You know that,’ I say.

‘You following rules. I don’t think your reputation’s ever been suited to that.’

‘I’ve changed,’ I say slyly.  ‘And I’m growing everyday.’

‘Here’s your drink, boy.  Be off with you now.  I’ve got lots to sort out,’ she says, turning to the patron next to me in the crowd.

I swagger and sway myself back towards my newly pubic night bride.  She’s dancing with a few other gals in her age group, but none of them have her hips and backside.

‘We’re off, little one,’ I say, giving a second glance to her companions.

‘Why don’t you grab two of your friends and bring them for my mates over there.’

The girl smiles and speaks directly in the ears of her friends.  I can’t hear what she says, but I get the gist for the looky lou on their tiny faces.

I lead the lot of them out of the club.  Cohner and Smith follow.

‘Ah, Cohner says.  ‘The smoke and drink make all the difference in the world.’

‘Aye aye,’ I say, wrapping my arms around little Mary.

‘Come on, Smith.  You’re making me feel rebeleous over here,’ Cohner says to his fellow grunt.

Smith just nods his head silently at Cohner, who is enjoying a bird on each arm.

‘Just let him be.  He’s got a family he’s looking forward to getting back to,’ I say.

‘Too bad for him,’ Cohner says, biting at the lobe of the fem to his left.

‘Not “too bad”, mate.  He’s one of the lucky ones.  Believe me,’ I say.  ‘You know, I think two is more than enough for you.  I’m gonna ring up the intel and get Mouthy over here.’

I leave the resting area of my compact and walk into the eating area where my ringer is.  I wind up Mouth’s number, but there is no reply.  I return to my bedding area.

‘You lucked out, youngster.  There all yours, but you gotta take ‘em out here if you want things to progress,’ I say.

‘Just following orders,’ he says, getting to his feet and dragging the two girls with him.

‘You’ll be staying on?’ I ask Smith.  He nods, leaving with Cohner to take his place on guard outside the front door.

‘Ah, Mary.  It’s finally you and I,’ I say, looking at the young lover.

‘We are alone aren’t we,’ she says.

I lay down on the bed next to Mary, taking in her musky aroma as I flip her raven colored hair off of her soft shoulders.

‘You are a fresh one, aren’t you?’

Mary snickers as I kiss the skin of her neck from nape to the shoulder.  Her tight white top leaves her arms bare entirely.  Choosing to savor every minor detail rather than rush it, I kiss all the way down her slender arm to her dainty fingers.  Taking each on of them slowly in and out of my mouth, the young fem begins to writhe.

‘This is better than anyone said it would be,’ she says.

‘Just you wait,’ I say, slightly amused my reputation as a lover has spread to the young.

I grab the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up over her head, exposing the flesh colored bra underneath it.  She reaches back to undo it, but fumbles.

‘Let me,’ I say, unlatching it in one try.  Mary smiles sensually.

I continue my kissing over her stomach and sides, carefully avoiding her perky feeders.  I want to tease this little bird into a frenzy.  If she isn’t teased, I sure am.

Grabbing her breast with my hands, I tease her tiny pink nipples until the are fully erect.  My mouth works its way up from her navel to the hard center of her chest flesh.  While my mouth works above, my hands wander under.  Unbuttoning her pants, she pushes them down and off for me.  I greatly appreciate this gesture and it is reflected by a throbbing in my own trousers.

I trace my fingers on the outskirts of her soft panties, feeling the warmth coming from inside them.  I stand up and begin to remove my own clothes in front of the eager babe.  She looks curiously at my member as it sticks straight out towards her.  I step to the foot of the bed and peel her panties off of her.  Using my hand, I begin to circle the outside of her opening.  She moves around accordingly and it please me greatly.  I slide my middle finger in between the folds her feminine flesh and stop suddenly.

‘The dearest of the gods, child.  You’re a virgin,’ I say with a sigh.

The girl quickly gets defensive.

‘Was I doing something wrong?  I’ve practice some things.  I can show you!  I learned them from mothers book,’ she says urgently.

‘You were fine.  Too fine for a waste space like me.’

Mary pulls her knees up to her chest and sits there embarrassed.  I grab my packet of rollies and sit next to the girl on my bed.  I offer her a cig and she takes it.

‘Are we taking a break?’ she asks.  ‘I don’t want to take a break.  I rather enjoyed what you were doing.’

‘I enjoyed it to and that’s why we’re stopping.’

‘Will we start again?’

‘No,’ I say, puffing hard on the cig.

‘Eye, I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’re not going to give me the business, can I go find Cohner and my girls and get it from him?’

‘Please do,’ I say with a smile.  As she gets up to gather her clothes, the sight of her body causes me great regret in my new, completely sickening moral stance.  The humanity growing inside of me tells me that I can let her go and tend to myself with the fantasy of reality as opposed to changing the course of anything for anyone.  I’ve done enough tampering with lives enough.

The girl smiles and gives me a little bow.  These young ones are built a lot tougher than there parents.  Or at least they pretend to be.

I sit alone in the middle of my bed, regretful to have sent company away.  My behavior with the young girl wasn’t a shock, but it made me fully aware that my changes were not superficial nor something I can work around.  I’d be upset if it weren’t for this odd feeling that I did the right thing.  I’m not going out and stopping crimes here or anything.  I just know that I play a part in this life.  I saved Tria.  I’m sure most people start with the small stuff first and then work their way up to saving the world, but for me it’s the other way around.

Poor Roemer.  She didn’t deserve what came her way.  I guess most people deserve better than they receive in this life.  It’s a shame I’m learning more people have to deal with than I know.  Like Raine.  She was a proper whacker, but I always felt her dark demeanor was just a cover for a very high emotional state.  Now she’s dead.  That’s a word I hate to use.  It’s permanence makes me tremble.  And I have killed.  The Unknowns don’t mean shite to me, but Lancer.  Lancer was a living man.  A fallen friend, but a friend nonetheless.

I’m used to feeling emotions, but I’m not used to giving them any credence, let alone letting them dictate my behavior.  It feels both freeing and extremely dangerous.

This game of seats in the political field isn’t helping me rest any better.  These Unit types haven’t shuffled around this much in the entire time I’ve been alive.  Caprice is stuck here trying to get people back into their homes while Moens strong arms the Unit in at headquarters trying to angle a higher position for himself.  Warlord is the most appropriate title I could think of for a man like that.

I’m awoken by my buzzer, letting me know that El-tee Bryant’s replacement, El-tee Monroe, has come to deliver some kind of message.  I get myself out of bed and throw on my over clothes.

‘Monroe,’ I say, opening the door.  ‘What the hells are you wanting in the middle of my sleep?’

I take a look at the man and immediately know he is here to deliver bad news.  My thoughts go right to Feena.

‘It’s best you dress and come right with me,’ he says.

I throw on my own piece jumper and leave my compact.  Both Monroe and Smith are waiting for me.

‘Should I gather Cohner?’ Smith asks.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Monroe says.  ‘Your presence is not needed either.’

‘He’s fine, Monroe.  Let him join us,’ I say, sparing Smith from defending his duty.

We head out of my sector on foot and deeper into Unit based territory.  I’ve always liked to stay far away from this area, unless I’m visit Mouth or his family.  The rest of the folk in these parts I can do without.

The direction alone lets me know that nothing has happened to Feena.  It is a relief , but quickly replaced with the unknown.  I become slightly excited at the potential that the Unit might have created this ceremony lie just to dispose of me in the middle of the night.  It would make sense with Monroe trying to keep Smith behind.  Smith doesn’t seem like the sharpest tool, but some instances require the work of a blunt object.

The blood flows through me quickly.  I haven’t had this much a rush since walking into Centralized Machination.  I am quick and ready.  This is not the day that I will die.

I look over to Smith who seems to quietly understand what I am thinking.  Maybe I have misjudged him.

‘Right this way, Eye.  I’m not sure you want to bring your bodyguard in here,’ Monroe says, leading me into a compact.

‘I prefer to have him with,’ I say.  ‘Who’s compact is this?’

‘It was El-tee Bryant’s,’ Monroe says.

We walk into the compact which is much smaller than mine, and not as nicely laid out.  Monroe leads me to the bedroom which is separated from the living space by a door.

Monroe freezes with his hand on the knob of the door.  He turns to me with a very sympathetic look, something I find very odd for a man I’ve only met a handful of times.

‘I’m so sorry, Eye.  I was sent to get you straightaway,’ Monroe says, opening the door for me to walk through.

My fears of attack disappear as I walk through the door as well as any emotional restraint I might have ever possessed.

‘Oh gods!’ I exclaim.

I run to Mouth silently hanging body and clutch it, lifting him up as if he could be saved.  I feel the weight of my friend I’d never hugged in life as I wrap my arms around him tightly.

‘No,’ I whimper as I make heavy water with my eyes.  ‘No.’

I finally let Mouth go.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I cry out.  ‘I’m so sorry.’

I can’t think of any words to say to my departed, but I have words for Monroe.

‘You filthy bastards gave Bryant the clearance to leave with this man’s family!  What did you think was going to happen?’ I yell, knowing well that Monroe was transferred into Tria after the crisis.

‘I understand your grievance.  I really do.  I’ve lost many men to the rope, Eye.  I’m sorry.  I thought you would have wanted to be the first one here before the scrubbers come in to take him to be ground,’ Monroe says.

Ground.  Mouth ground into nothing.  My emotions swell as I picture the boy he was when we first met.  He was my human friend.  He taught me how to behave and understand life.  He transitioned me into reality from my training.  His was the first face to ever smile at me.  I can’t bring myself to turn around and look at him again.  I collapse to the bed and let my tears rush out fiercely with audible sounds joining them from my throat.

I try to calm down, but then I think of the lengths the Unit went through to send Monroe to me so I could see Mouth before he is ground.  It had to be Caprice.  He’s the only man in any kind of power I’ve known to express any kind of emotion other than anger and arrogance.

‘Monroe, I didn’t mean,’ I say.

Monroe cuts into the silence I have left.  ‘It’s perfectly normal, Replica.  Please, think nothing of it.  I know the history of the program and how close you two were.’

Smith walks into the room and puts his hand on my shoulder.

‘We should leave, sir,’ he says.

I nod as Smith guides me straight from Bryant’s room all the way back to my own without any notice of the journey.  He pulls back the covers of my bed and motions for me to get into it.  Once I do, he puts the covers back on me.

‘I’ll be right outside this door,’ Smith says.  ‘You need anything, a drink of water, some g & g, anything, you let me know right away, sir.’

‘Don’t leave me, Smith.  I need the company.  Please,’ I plead.

‘Of course,’ he says, pulling up a simple chair next to my bed.

‘I’m going to talk and you can talk back to me if you want.  If not, just listen,’ I say.

‘They’re things I should have told Mouth.’

Eighteen

‘It’s a great tragedy, Eye.  The separation of man and woman always carries a high cost.  It is an unfortunate occurrence,’ Caprice says to me as we sit in the din of Brooks and Martin’s.  ‘You have to focus on the bigger picture.

‘Things have not been in this state of flux since we first came under.  There are always casualities in a war.  Just because this one isn’t being fought face to face doesn’t mean that it’s any different.  There is someone out there that was out to destroy us and they drove right into the hands of our enemies.  But we prevailed!’ he says with vigor.

‘You should be very proud, Replica.  I haven’t seen this much fuss put up over an officer of your standing in all of my years.  Hells, I haven’t seen anything like it ever,’ he says, leaning over to slap me on the knee.

As much as I might be able to stand the company of Marshal Caprice, he is still a Unit man through and through.  I signal Potter to bring me another clean drink, just the aqua and cubes for it.  I’ve lost the taste for the brown.  It’s happened before.  A good clean out never hurt anyone.

‘Your Mach, he did us all very proud, all thanks to you of course,’ the older man says with a  large smile.

‘I suppose he’s been torn into a million little pieces and blasted out an exhaust shaft,’ I say with a misleading smirk.

‘Deck?  Eye, the machine saved us from destruction.  Do you think that’s how we would treat anyone who helped us, man or machine?’

I can not hide being caught slightly off guard.

‘I just assumed, with Moens in charge,’ I say.

‘Moens is standing Area Director, nothing more.  Just remember that.  This Kill by Numbers board is just getting set up.  You watch,’ Caprice says.

‘What’s to be done with him then?’ I ask.

‘I’m not quite sure about that.  You’ll have the chance to ask him yourself at the ceremony,’ he nods.

I fight the urge to tell Potter to swap out the water for a scotch.  Instead I nod back at the Marshal.

‘Well, thank you for that,’ I mutter.

‘Save your thanks for the Warlord.  He’ll be back in two days, just in time to show off his polished metals for all of Tria,’ he says downing his drink and standing.

‘I hope you’ve had some time outside of your grieving to prepare a little something to say to your contemperaries,’ he says.

‘I haven’t had the time to give it much thought, to be completely honest with you Marshal.  You’d be better off letting the Mach speak to the crowd than me,’ I say.

‘Oh piss,’ he laughs.  ‘Though I wouldn’t try to work your humor into your address,’ he says, leaving the club.

I sit in silence, watching old Jasper Jameson’s hand shakes as he lifts a glass to his mouth.  The old man’s skin looks like tired parchment.  I feel rush to seize him and rip his skin like an unwanted note, but it passes when Potter approaches with my cold ice drink.

‘Anything else, sir?’ Potter asks.

‘No thank you Potter,’ I say, standing with my drink and walking over towards Jameson.

‘Do you mind if I join you?’ I ask.

‘What do I owe your sudden interest in my old bones?’ he asks.

‘Boredom,’ I say and sit down next to him.

He eyes down my drink.  ‘Off of the sauce, I see.’

I nod.  ‘I’ve found the need to clear my thoughts.’

‘I don’t blame you.  You’re surrounded by scavenging politicians,’ he laughs.  ‘I’d best be careful if I were you.  But I don’t need to tell you that, do I?’

‘No, you don’t.’

‘Well I see it in your eyes.  You’re still in between.  Don’t be silly.  There are no sides.  It’s all the same.  Believe me.  When you’ve been around as long as I have, you’ll have see it many times.  These Unit men,’ Jasper says, coughing a little.  ‘They’re all the same.’

‘How old are you, Jameson?’

‘Oh youngster, I doubt you’d be apt to count that high,’ he says.

I stare at him with a rekindled interest in ripping his skin.

‘Eight-one cycles,’ he says.  ‘So watch that little wheelhouse of yours when you think so lightly of me, Replica.’

I haven’t worn my proper Unit uniform since I was graduated from the program. Monroe stopped by to deliver my new set of clothes for the ceremony.  The dress hasn’t been updated much and putting it on makes me feel like I haven’t been either.

‘Look at you!’ George says.  ‘Now Cohner, if you would have known Eye when he first came out of the program, you’d be able to tell he hasn’t aged a day.’

‘If you took your vitamins and ate your goo and grains everyday like a good solider, you’d be able to say the same Georgie,’ I say to my smiling friend.

‘I don’t think the kind of vitamins you get are available to the down low like us,’ he says.

‘Speaking of availability,’ I say.  ‘Where in the hells did you find an outfit that entirely pink?’

This warrants a laugh even out of the stoic Smith.

‘You wish you could be this flash,’ George says.

‘It’s a ceremony, Webb,’ I say.

‘It’s a celebration, Eye, you stiff crank,’ he says.

‘I’ll give you a stiff crank,’ I say.

‘I wish you would,’ George half jokes.

‘Only you could cause me to run out of words,’ I say.

‘You better not run out of words!  Your big speechy is in a few hours,’ he says.  ‘You do have a speech ready, don’t you?’

‘Jumping J, kid, of course I have something ready.  I always do.’

‘Well, let’s have it,’ George says.

‘Yeah, I’d love a sneaky preview,’ Cohner adds.

‘I don’t think so,’ I say.

‘Well, it’s two to one,’ George says.  ‘What about you Smith?  You want to hear this thing in the here and now?’

I look to Smith, who in turn looks to George.

‘I want to hear it,’ Smiths says.

‘Damn you all.  Shot by both sides.’  I walk to the bedside table and grab the speech I have prepared.

‘If either of you soldiers laugh, I’ll have you quartered,’ I say.

‘On with it already,’ George spouts.

I stand in front of the mirror, taking in my all too familiar look of a Unit trained Replica.  I would have liked to memorized the speech, but I have no need for dramatics.  This is purely a procedure.

‘I would like to thank all of you in Tria for honoring me today.  The price of retaining our freedom has been costly and it is something I do not take lightly.  We live ever changing times and I can only hope that we adapt together.  I would like to thank all Unit members past and present for this honor is not mine alone, but to all of us who have made sacrifices beyond our giving.’

I stop speaking and turn to my audience of three.  I can tell by the looks on their faces that they are not quite impressed.

‘Well don’t just stare at me!’ I yell.  ‘It’s what I’m going to say, so there’s no use looking at me like I’m going to change it.’

‘It’s fine, Eye,’ George says unconvincingly.  ‘It’s just a little, I don’t know,’ he hesitates.

‘Your speech was spot on, sir,’ Smith says.

‘Thank you.  That’s all I wanted to hear.  Now let’s get me out of here before they send around some El-tee’s lackey to fetch me,’ I say, taking one last look at myself in the mirror.

Without a spot large enough to gather the masses in the center of Tria, the Unit has shifted everyone back to the caves for this evenings ceremony.  The scenery is immediately different than it was the last time I saw the spot only weeks ago.

Multi-colored streamers made of sewn cloth hang in large outlining the perimeter of the caves.  The center of the affair is a stage where Tria’s forgotten home colors of red and gold hang together in a banner bearing our namesake.  The patrons file in politely, still attuned to the emergency state we only recently left.  Everyone in the territory is scheduled to turn out for the event.

While the demeanor is regal, there is an air of festivity that George and the rest of Tria will surely enjoy.  Not me.  I want this to be over and done.  The only thing on my mind is that I will get to see Deck tonight, functioning and well.  I owe him for saving Tria and in turn humanity, but I feel more indebted to the Mach for simply walking through the  tunnel at two nine zero.  I owe him on behalf of my fallen Five as well.  It seems my debt goes deeper than I am comfortable with.

‘There’s our man,’ Monroe says quite loudly upon seeing me.

I smile and nod.  Not every single piece of my ego is entirely ignoring the fact that I am about to be celebrated in front of an adoring crowd.  Any part of my that does not want to be here knows it will find no satisfaction.  I’m not surprised in my turn.  My auto-pilot knows how to survive much better than I do.

‘You’re gonna do us right proud,’ says a brown skinned Unit man I’ve never seen before says.

‘I’m sorry, Eye.  This is Dean Quattro.  I mean, SC Dean Quatro,’ Monroe says laughing.

‘I could pull rank on you for addressing me as such,’ the Space Coordinator says straight faced.  He then launches into a laughing fit.  ‘Oh, Replica, I tell you, if I had a cred for every time I’ve gotten Monnie’s short hairs in a bundle, I’d retire.’

‘Just in for the event then?’ I ask

‘Yes, yes, yes.  I wish I could stay longer.  Tria is going to be the boomtown of the new era.  That’s why I jumped at the chance to stay and organize this rally after my work with the relocation was done,’ Quattro says.

‘You nervous about tonight?’ Monroe asks, cutting in.

Before I can speak, Quattro answers for me.

‘This bloke’s seen and done things the books don’t even keep.  You think he’s afraid to get up in front of us punters so we can thank him?’

‘I suppose not,’ Monroe replies.

‘You’d be surprised gentlemen.  I’m used to the other stuff.  This is all new to me,’ I say, patting the two men on the back and walking past them.

‘Good luck,’ the men shout as I pass.

After being granted clearance for my guards and myself, we adjourn to the area behind the stage were only techs and higher ranking Unit members are allowed.  It is quieter and less populated.  Caprice is flitting around with some techs making sure that everything is running smoothly.  He gives me a wink and a nod as he passes by.

‘Keep your eyes closer than you ever have on this one tonight, boy,’ Caprice says as he and the technician disappear around a corner behind us.

My smile retreats as Warlord Moens exits a private room right in front of me.

‘Replica,’ he says.  ‘I suppose you’re getting quite a hard on with all this attention?’

‘I felt it move, but I wouldn’t say it’s full on yet,’ I reply.

Moens remains straight faced.  ‘You’re lucky this all work out, son.’

‘Aren’t we all?’ I say.

‘I see these grunts have done a fine job of keeping you alive,’ he says.

‘Keeping me alive by losing their wages in the cards, if that’s what you mean,’ I say.

Moens makes a laughing sound that couldn’t come from any other being.  It mixes equal parts disdain and amusement.

‘Don’t make an embarrassment out of yourself up there,’ he says.  ‘And make sure you go and find Instructor Wigends straightaway.’

‘Wigends?’

‘You’re going deaf this young?’ Moens says and exits our company.

‘Well boys,’ I say.  ‘Now you can say you’ve met the Warlord yourself.’

‘Oh, I’m plenty familiar with Moens,’ Cohner says.  ‘My uncle was killed during the Skyline Protocol.’

‘Don’t you mean Massacre?’ Smith says.

‘They’ve told us we’re human, and told us about you as well,’ Solace says as we sit in the small private room with Wigends and her compatriot Stone.  ‘Thank you for your visit.  It well prepared me for the transition.’

‘Waste,’ Stone says, folding his arms.  ‘Human no human, waste.’

I turn to Wigends.  ‘I see that this one is having a harder time.’

‘Ah, he’s a good boy, he just is still a little angry about the program.  He’ll be fine.  It’s quiet normal,’ the instructor says.

I don’t know if I share his optimism.  These two are barely of age.  They have been taken to the next level years before I was and years before the time best suited for being informed.

‘HQ thought it would be a fine justice to have these two celebrate their awakening with a trip to see the lands most revered Replica speak to the masses.  You brought a machine down here against all odds and saved us all.  And they’ll get to see a real Mach.  That’s something no trainee ever has had the chance to witness.  I think it’ll do a piece of good to Stone here and even Solace to see some reconciliation between the two sides of their world,’ Wigends says.

‘It’s so nice to be around so many people.  They’re all so different and interesting.  The smells of our journey will be in my brain forever,’ Solace says with enthusiasm.

Stone has not taken his eyes off me the entire time.  There is so much anger in him that the Unit should yank him and put him on intel or another program his skills can be used.  He is a liability.

‘It’s quite nice that you all came,’ I say.  ‘Do you know where the machine is?’

‘I haven’t the faintest clue,’ Wigends says.

‘You don’t suppose they’re going to let him speak, do you?’ Solace asks, causing a small chortle of laughter out of Stone.  Maybe I’ve got him pegged all wrong.

‘Ah, human after all,’ I say to him.  ‘No, Solace.  I don’t believe they will let Deck speak.  He’s lucky to be alive.’

‘Deck,’ Stone says.

‘Yes, the machine has a name and it’s Deck.  He’s a scientist for Central Machination and a decent person.’  I find myself hanging on that last word, unsure of how to replace it with anything else.  As my mind stammers, I see something in Stone that answers most my questions of his ability.  He feels for the machine, not the humans.  He’s not disgusted with the program, he’s disgusted with the fact that he’s a human and not a machine.

The boy does not move or break his eye contact.

‘Let’s leave Eye here a little time to gather himself before his big moment,’ Wigends says, gathering the children.

‘It’s going to be rather fast.  I’ve only prepared a couple of lines and that will be all,’ I say.

‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ my former instructor says.

‘Good luck,’ Solace says.

‘Nice use of casual and appropriate phrase, Solace!’ Wigends says, congratulating the young girl on the way out of my waiting room.

I sit alone in the small grey room.  There are no decorations in here, which is a relief to me.  The Unit’s ceremonial committee has, however, supplied me with the best purified water available.  I enjoy liberal amounts of it, but it’s sending me to the john to make water of my own quite frequently.  I’ll just stay here until someone comes to fetch me.

Being all by my lonesome is giving me too much time to think and reconsider myself.  Like all of the major events in my life, this too shall pass.  All I have to do is wait and participate.  Living off the drink won’t be easy tonight.  The entire territory will be up in arms for days.  Maybe I’ll treat myself with a nice piece of flesh.  Something right nasty without any lingering trace of innocence to it.  That’ll take the pressure off the booze and I do owe myself some kind of treat for saving the world.

I have a strong feeling that they are going to reunite Deck and I on stage for dramatic effect.  Fools.  They know they’re not going to get an emotional response out of me even if they dragged my parents back from the dead.  But ceremony is ceremony.  If Moens didn’t have Deck destroyed, then anything is a possibility.

A knock comes on the outside of my door.

‘Enter,’ I say.

Cohner pokes his head into my room.

‘They’re ready for you sir,’ he says.

But are they ready for me?

Standing directly behind the stage, I find myself in the company of Moens, Caprice, and former Dictum Marco Tallei.  They’re all quietly nervous in their own way, though they barely show it to each other.  I can see the smug air of excitement making Moens uneasy.  I feel Caprice’s brain worrying about each and every element of the event.  The former Dictum is my favorite.  He’s worried that this will take far too long and bore him more than he can handle.

A whispy young female Unit member presents herself before us.

‘Okay gentleman.  I know that you are no strangers to procedure, so this is how things are going to run.  Marshal Caprice, I will intro you out for the crowd.  Then, you will introduce Dictum Tallei, who will speak.  Then you will return to introduce Warlord Moens…’

‘Area Director Moens,’ he corrects.

The woman smiles.  ‘Area Director Moens, and then AD Moens will bring out Replica Eye.  You will sit in the furthest seat from the podium, Dictum Tallei will be first, the Area Director Moens, Replica Eye, and the last seat will be for Marshal Caprice himself.  Fairly easy drill.

‘Marshal, you will introduce the Area Director who will speak and introduce Replica Eye at the end of his address.  The ceremony will conclude with Replica Eye and you will all file off stage in reverse order while the pit plays you off,’ she says.

‘Very simple,’ Caprice says with a smile.

‘Eye, you’re guards have clearance to be on the stage at opposite ends, however they will be waiting there for you instead of walking with you,’ the femmy tells me.

I nod in agreement.  ‘I think I can manage a few feet without them.’

‘Well, we’ll get everything started if you would like to watch from the side of the stage and you will be brought up in about,’ she looks at her watch.  ‘One hour from now.’

She smiles.  ‘Listen to them out there gentlemen.  Your Tria is clamoring for you.’

The young woman busies herself away from us while we settle in quietly next to the stage.

First up is a local singer, a girl named Tina Paramour.  I’ve never cared for her music, but I have had her a time or two.  She can do much more wondrous things then belt out flat versions of traditional song.  She sings both ‘Light of Night’ and ‘Before & Again’.  Dreck.  I’d rather have heard the people of the crowd chanting the ingredients of a colonic washbag.

After Ms. Paramour finishes putting the crowd to sleep, a group of young patriots get up and demonstrate their marching drill.  Moens looks particularly proud of them.  I’d be harsh on the patriots, but they are only five cycles old at best and still retain enough chub to their faces to make them appear angelic.

Bending around for a better view, I can see that the crowd is packed beyond anything I could imagine.  Most of these people were just here spread about the caves, but not all facing the same direction at the same time.  I quickly resort to my years of training as my stomach instincts begin to rise.

‘People of Tria, I am but a humble visitor in your great territory,’ Caprice says.  The crowd erupts in applause, causing the Marshal to postpone speaking by several seconds.

‘Tria love you!’ someone from the crowd shouts.  Caprice blushes slightly.

‘You’re too kind.  You’re all too kind.  You land has become a second home to me and I can’t thank you wonderful people enough.’

The crowd goes wild again, bringing on a deafening roar.

‘I’d like to introduce a man who’s seen this world from a seat no one else has.  A man who brought forth one of the greatest times in human prosperity, former ruler of the Gathered Territories, Dictum Macro Tallei,’ Caprice shouts with vigor.  The crowd gives the dictum a great response, much cheerier than expected.

The older man takes to the podium.

‘Words are not something I have come here to spread many of.  What I have come to share is an optimistic hope that these changes we’ve seen will lead to a better tomorrow for our children and our children’s children,’ Tallei says to the crowd.  ‘Someday, the here and now will be in the distant past.  What we do now will set the tone for the rest of days and tonight, we are here to celebrate not just the past, but the future as well.  Gods bless each and every single one of.’

I stand in the wings waiting to be introduced.  From where I stand, I see no trace of Deck.  I was sure not to ask around, but it seems that they backed out of their plan.  While I looked forward to seeing Deck again, I cannot blame the Unit for changing their collective mind.

The Dictum exits to more hooting and hollering while Caprice reappears at the podium.

‘The next man I would like to introduce is one of the most daring and honorable individuals to ever make their way through the ranks of the Unit.  He is steadfast, focused, and a man of such great vision that he stepped out retirement when we were in crisis to protect us yet again.  Ladies and gentlemen, I give you standing Area Director Dennis Moens.;

Moens walks out with a fake smile plastered to his face.  Much to my delight, a small portion of the noise coming from the audience sounds like booing.  The Warlord doesn’t let it phase him as he shakes Caprice’s hand.

I look to Smith, who is positioned on the stage slightly ahead of where I will be entering from.  His face offers me nothing and I keep my expressions to myself.

‘Tough decisions,’ Moens says to the quiet crowd.  ‘You might not like me, but you all need me.  I am the one to make the decisions no one wants to think about.  I will not hide from my past and I know that some of these tough decisions have resulted in a disliking of me.’  Moens pauses and leans into the microphone.

‘You are welcome,’ he says.  ‘You are welcome to hate me.  You are welcome to your own opinion.  And you are welcome for the life that I have fought for you to keep.’

He’s a brash bastard, but I don’t find myself disagreeing with him for the first time since our meeting.

‘I will gladly absorb your criticisms, your hatred, and your low opinion of me to know that I am doing my job the best I can,’ he says as some of the crowd clap.  ‘I will make the hard decisions, but I am not alone.  Every man, woman, and child that has devoted their life to the Unit knows how and why that title was chosen.  We do not function alone.  None of us, Unit or not.  All of us must pull together and put petty squabbles aside in order to accept the changes the future holds for us.

‘I am about to bring out a young man that knows more about sacrifice then most of us will ever come to comprehend.  Giving up the life of a normal human, he instead risks his privilege of living in order to make Tria a better and more suitable place for all of us.  His actions are not routine.  His methods far from standard, but I assure you, his results are unparalleled.  People of Tria, I present to you Replica Eye.’

‘Here I go, Smith,’ I mumble as I pass him by.

I walk out onto the stage and the cheering escalates as well as the booing, which is more intense than it was for ever Moens.  The cheering is enough to hang onto.  Caprice stands at the podium with his arm held out to me.  I shake his hand and stand next to him as he begins to speak.

‘Some of you have questioned our Replica’s actions for bringing a machine man back into Tria.  He did so only under the strictest orders to save us at any cost.  Echoing Area Director Moens wonderful speech, Eye made the hard choice so all of you could have the breath to judge him with,’ he says, motioning for me to take the podium.

‘I would like to thank all of you in Tria for honoring me today,’ I say.  The crowd cheers and it gives me the confidence to refold the piece of paper in my hand.

‘The price of retaining our freedom has been costly and it is something I do not take lightly.  We live ever changing times and I can only hope that we adapt together.  I would like to thank all Unit members past and present for this honor is not mine alone, but to all of us who have made sacrifices beyond our giving.  Gods bless you all and gods bless Tria.’

This time there is no booing.  The some of the crowd even rises to it’s feet.  I can see Wigneds and the young Reps in the front row cheering wildly.

Former Dictum Tallie approaches me and shakes my hand, holding onto.  He speaks into the microphone.

‘This young man has done a great service to his land and command.  And after tonight, none of you will ever question his loyalty again,’ Marco Tallie says.

‘We have something special prepared for you,’ he says to me through the microphone for all of Tria to hear.

I turn my head towards the back of the stage as I here a noise coming from behind the back curtains.  I look to Caprice and Moens, both of whom are smiling wide.  My heart race quickens.  Something is being wheeled out from underneath the curtain.  When it is part way out, I can see exactly what it is.

The crowd gasps as Deck comes into full view.  None of them can muster a word.  I am shocked to the core, my heart thumping like it might burst.

Deck is fixed to the circle wheeled out onstage.  His arms and legs are spread apart, making his body one large X.  I look to him and find his eyes, warm and sympathetic.  I fear the state of my own.

‘Tria, this is your enemy.  This here is one of the machines that drove us down here and constantaly prevents us from returning to the world that is rightfully ours,’ the Dictum says.

The crowd makes a loud and confused noise of anger.

‘Eye, tonight we are going to give you the opportunity to right things in front of our entire territory.’ Dictum Marco Tallei reaches underneath the podium and takes out an axe, holding it high for all to see.

The crowd cheers as he hands it over to me and steps back towards his seat.

I take a deep breath and look to my victim.  I’m sorry Deck.

Nineteen

I grip the axe tightly in my hands and walk towards the Mach that saved humanity.  The audience waits in silence.  From the front of the stage I can hear a loud sobbing noise.  I turn and take a step closer to the edge.  Looking for a short second, I can see that it is Stone, the young Replica.  Tears and noise flow from his face freely.  I look to him and smile.

Walking up to Deck, I make very fast chopping motions with the tool.  In a moment he is on the ground.  I reach down and offer my hand to help him up after I have freed him from his shackles.

The audience gasps yet again.  Unit members start to move to the stage, but Cohner and Smith make short work of displaying the vantage shot they have on the diplomats onstage with me.

‘Seven hells, Replica!  What do you think you’re doing?’ Caprice shouts.  Cohner levels his gun.

‘All I want is to speak,’ I say.

The crowd grows nervous and I can see them fidget.  Some of them are trying to leave.

‘Please.  Let me say what I have to say.  It’s for your benefit, not mine,’ I plea.

I look around at the sea of grubby little faces as they stare at Deck and I with a wonder I’ve never seen.

‘This all has to end.  All these lies have to stop,’ I say.

‘Shoot him!’ Moens shouts to Smith.  ‘Damn it Smith, shoot him!’

Smith turns to me and nods.

‘It is fitting that this ceremony be held in the far caves, because I am surrounded by death,’ I say, as the crowd grows silent again.  ‘This machine up here is the only reason all of you have been spared the fate of so many of my companions.  He volunteered to come to Tria and sacrifice himself to save all of us.  I did not kidnap him.  I did not force him.  I simply told him of the problem and he offered his full service.

‘We have been lied to.  All of us and for far too long.  The Machs did not imprison us down here.  We built it ourselves because we humans destroyed the surface.  The histories tell us that we built the machines and that is about all the truth you will get from them.  They were programmed to fix the Earth for us, but when they did, they knew the surface would be doomed handing it back over to us.  All of the humans that were lost in battle were only killed because they would not relent.  The Machs only attacked in defense of the planet we trained them to care for.

‘The fertilizer that nearly killed all of us was not created by the machines.  It was created by a human hoping to force us all to the surface.  A human much like myself.  This human, this former Unit Replica nearly succeeded.  If it weren’t for a Mach called Five sacrificing his life to free me from captivity, you and the rest of humanity would have had to face the machines on the surface.  But in saying that, with this Mach up here.  I don’t think it would be true.’

I turn and motion to Deck who has been standing completely still from where I picked him up.

‘They want me to kill him.  Look at him.  Look at him!’ I shout.

‘All I have been taught was out of fear.  I have only encountered a handful of machines in my time above and two of them put us before even themselves.  These are not the ways of murders.’

Tears force their way out of my eyes.

‘They are the ideals of humanity we instilled into them.  The ideals that we ourselves lost so long ago.

‘Deck knew that he would be killed out of our human ignorance, but still chose of his own accord to accompany me back to Tria to save you all,’ I say, pointing wildly into the crowd.

‘I will not harm this man and I encourage you to make the sacrifice of your prejudice, a small gesture for a machine that had more compassion than the human who tried to force us to a surface we are not ready to take a part of.

‘In these times, I fear there are greater threats at large than the Machines that dwell on the surface.  I have seen first hand a new breed of being.  Something that combines elements of the machines and the humans.  It was with these creatures that I was reacquainted with Replica Lancer.’

A hushed sound of surprise spreads through the crowd.

‘It was he who engineered the fertilizer, he who spread the false intelligence, and he who sought to urge us to the surface,’ I say.

‘Hang Lancer!’ someone from the crowd shouts.

‘I have been trained to eliminate our enemies.  That is why I killed Lancer to save Tria and the underworld.  And that is why I will not kill Deck.  He is not our enemy. Not anymore.’

The crowd is mixed with cheering and snickering sounds.

‘If you see me a hero, you must see Deck a hero, and Five, and AD Roemer, and Mouth, and all of the men and women that gave their lives to service not the Unit, but humanity and good.  We’re all casualties of a war we had nothing to do with.  It is time that we start living in a era of truth and shed the lies that keep us shackled to this underground world.

‘If you see me a criminal in me,’ I say.  ‘Then excuse this man.  He came here to save you not from the fertilizer, but from your own human misgivings.  Look into the eyes of your young ones and appreciate that he saved them from becoming Unit sanctioned orphans like myself.  If you want someone to blame, you blame me.  I brought him down here.  I lead him to us.  And he lead us to salvation.  It there was any crime, it was mine.

‘When I was raised, it was in belief that I myself was a machine,’ I say looking directly to Solace and Stone.  ‘I was taught from birth how to mimic them in every way, but upon interacting with actual Machs, I found that they’re programming allowed them a humanity I had long been denied, but will never again ignore.

‘I will most likely never be seen by any of you again.  Deck and I both will face the same fate and I am comforted that I will pass with a man who needlessly gave so much without asking for anything in return.  I speak out in hopes that you will look differently at each other and know that your life will forever be indebted to a machine your government wanted me to destroy on stage like it was a victory.  This way cannot continue.  I thought that I was a replica of a machine, but through them I have learned how to truly be a human being.’

I turn away from the podium and bow to Deck, who smiles at me in desperate appreciation.  His facial expression is registered by some in the crowd.  I hear them shouting in surprise, bubbling into a cacophony of noise, some excited with joy, others angry with rage.  I motion to Cohner and Smith to stand down.

‘You’ll hang for this, mecha-lover!’ Moens shouts.  ‘You’ll all hang for this!’

‘At least we’ll hang together, boys,’ I say to my loyal bodyguards.

‘It’d be an honor, sir’ Smith says.

Guards approach the stage from all sides as the roar of the crowd rises to an unparalleled level.  Caprice jumps up from his seat.

‘Stand down!’ he screams.  ‘Stand down!  All of you!  Do not touch these men!’

‘You do not take orders from this green grower,’ Moens says to the many guards gathering near us.  ‘Take these men away.’

‘You will do no such thing!’ Caprice shouts.  ‘This are my men from Adnama and they will follow the order that I give them.  Eye and his guards have done nothing wrong.   Eye simply spoke his mind.  I will not have a man hung for speaking his mind.’

‘This is not free speech!  This is treason,’ Moens roars.

I small chant begins from the crowd.  I can’t fully understand what it is as I’m pretty sure I’m about to be shot.  I stand close to Deck.

‘Well, I never promised boredom,’ I say to him.

‘Don’t die for me human.  You’ve done enough,’ Deck says.

Epilogue

‘The tides have turned,’ Monroe says.  ‘It seems that Caprice has himself on the ballet against Moens now.  Public favor falls heavily on the Marshal, especially after he stepped in during that debacle of a ceremony and saved your ass.’

‘Saved the Mach’s too,’ I say as we sit in my new family oriented compact, formerly Mouth’s.

‘That’s the only thing he has going against him.  Luckily your little outburst has got people thinking, or at least pretending to,’ he laughs.  ‘It’s been too long since the Unit offered this kind of division in leadership.  Poor Moens.’

El-tee Monroe shakes his head.  ‘That bastard thought this would make him Dictum and now it’s likely to force him back into retirement.  That’s what you get when you can’t read the public opinion.’

‘He should have shot me,’ I say.  ‘It be better than my punishment.’

‘Punishment?  You have to supervise the human training of two children.  There could be worse things,’ he says.

‘You don’t have to live with them,’ I say.

‘Fair enough,’ Monroe says.  ‘Let me answer the question your too guarded to ask.  He’s okay.’

‘I was getting around to it.’

‘Well, it was written all over your face since I got here.’

‘Thank you Monroe.’

‘He’s in deep security.  The talk is that he will be able to continue working along the human scientists, but he won’t ever be allowed to leave the under.   It won’t be offical until word is handed down from HQ.  I tell you this, Caprice takes this election and you can count on Deck sticking around.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Caprice is reading the writing on the wall.  He’s got full documentation of the Mach’s assistance during the crisis and he’s planning on having it leaked out to the public.  Everyone knows Moens stance.  It’ll just help drive the difference between them home to the thick skulls,’ he says.

‘That can work both way,’ I say.

‘Ah, Caprice knows what he’s doing.’

‘I hope so.’

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