The Darkening: Chapter 5 (by Elliot Bowers)
(Note: It's another annoying reminder to narrow your browser's
width to one-third to ease your reading of this--and other fanfictions.)
With someone taller than herself, the "little girl" ran deep into the tall woods. Her legs, though slender, were strong. Her legs were strong enough to very easily carry the person over her shoulder while running. Bare hard feet pattered across the brown forest floor. The sound of her breathing and her body’s movement were sounds she could not concentrate on.
Gally, the delicate-faced and dark-haired "little girl," ran on. She had to force asid all the racing and furious fears in her mind. There was all of which happened back there. There, they were just trans-warped to that place. With almost no warning, she was suddenly trans-warped into that "bank" and put to battle. Being taken out of nowhere and suddenly put into an unknowable battle was frightful for Gally.
And her opponent had been almost impossible. She never before fought a replicate—a robotic copy of a person—with two guns. As Gally ran, she had slight fears of those two evil submachine guns spraying rounds hard enough to tear and mutilate her diamond-hard exoskeleton—her armor-tough skin. Those submachine guns had been in the hands of a very skilled opponent. The Mechminx was an unscrupulous opponent at that.
Gally nearly tripped, and Vicki gasped: Gally had to be more careful not to grip Vicki around the damaged part of her abdomen. "I am…sorry," said Gally, speaking while running. Vicki waited until Gally went to a smoother part of the forest, with less bumpiness, and responded. "It’s…okay." Gally carefully firmed her grip on Vicki’s waist. The synthetic girl that Gally carried over her left shoulder, the one with immensely powerful myogel muscle tissue and titanium bones, she was the sister of the female replicate that was so deadly?
Other fears came to Gally. This forest, she had never been in a forest of this sort before. The trees, they were immense and more dense than Gally could barely believe. On 30th century Earth, there had been no forests like this that Gally saw. And, there were no real forests on Mars, her current homeworld. She could barely imagine what type of mad creatures dwelled here, in this forest she ran through.
In the 30th century, before moving to Mars after the Zalem-Scrap Iron City debacle was completely over, Gally lived in that city. There, drugs and pollution made people into mutant freaks. There was even a drug that turned people into werewolves. But, other cyborgs were often worse. They went crazy because of aspects of their electromechnaical bodies.
Was Gally already a "crazy," a psychopathic murder and not know it? The common argument was that metal bodies were, in some ways, incompatible with human brains regardless of how much work went into them. Then some form of insanity was inevitable. One issue was that of extreme sexual repression as cyborgs had almost no feeling save for movement and some forms of pain.
Now, the terrain was becoming softer. Gally had to lengthen and slow her stride to compensate for the softer ground. The ground was very soft, oddly soft. The cyborg became very uncomfortable with the softness of the dirt under her hard bare feet. She never felt such soft soil. Even the loamy blue-green plains of Mars were somewhat harder than this.
It was a very good place to plant mines, really. She then had a flashback to her childhood, during the Interplanetary Wars. When her home and parents were destroyed by atmospheric craft—again on Mars—she was given a chance to escape across a minefield-strewn field or die by having her smaller and weaker child-sized replacement body bashed in. Since very young, Gally was a cyborg and often living in fear and pain.
There were sights in this forest: so many greens and browns. As far as she could see into these tall and eerie woods, there were nothing but the straight red-brown trunks of trees. Were there bombs in the soil? Would someone come leaping out and cut her and her shoulder-carried ally down with automatic gunfire? Then, Gally felt a twinge in her lower-left side—where her body’s nanobots were still "healing" her.
The twinge happened again, and Gally sailed through air. She still managed to stay upright and hold onto Vicki, the robot-girl still paralyzed. Just before impact, Gally twisted her upper body—spinning her around as so her armored back ground into the soil. She came to a stop with her right shoulder against a tree.
Gally did not want to move for a time: The cold feeling in her side was so severe. In one way, it meant that the autorepair process was nearly complete. But, it hurt so much that the coldness surpassed a tolerable threshold. Her brain felt that pain of her body. She grew dizzy with that feeling, and the sunlight-filtered green leaves high overhead seemed to fade for her a bit. The moan she heard was her own voice.
"Gally? Is your body more damaged? Is your brain hurt? What’s wrong?" asked Vicki, still paralyzed. The robot-girl could not move to check on the small cyborg as her body’s mobility systems were still being autorepaired by strange nanobots. Vicki’s legs were dead weight across Gally’s now-ungripping left arm.
Gally heard the voice as if it were far away as her mind swirled in pain. It overwhelmed her thinking, the pain. To the small cyborg girl, all that mattered was the deep and biting cold she felt in her left side. She tried to talk, but only managed to make another moan. It was hard to concentrate even enough to talk.
Vicki then used her advanced hearing to listen for passers-by. Her mind’s subprocessors first had to filter out the sound of Gally’s troublingly slow breathing. She then listened to individual sounds. Her crystal-matrix and microchip mind listened for likely sounds of any encroachers passing within a certain distance. And, there were sounds.
None of the sounds within forty matched Vicki’s criteria for "human." She then thought it safe to speak with Gally. "Gally? Will you talk to me? You’re worrying me. In fact, my emotional sub-processes are very close to ‘fear’ for you. Are you dying?" Vicki heard Gally moaning yet again, trying to form words through a toughened wall of pain. Vicki was persistent: If the cyborg had injured her brain in certain ways, keeping her awake would have to be a priority—or the cyborg could fall into a coma.
Gally breathed a deep breath. This time, she managed to mentally override the worst feelings of the deep cold she felt. Now, she felt agitation from being kept awake—but managed to keep her voice calm. "Vicki, I remain in passable condition; my brain was not at all injurred since arriving here. But my body is nearing completion of autorepairs. I am feeling the effects of that. But, I would like to sleep…."
"Gally, don’t sleep! You could have taken on a concussion and not know it yet." The microchips and large clear crystals of Vicki’s mind came to another conclusion. "Or maybe, you injured your brain earlier some other way. Then, if your brain is injured, falling asleep will be the start of a coma." Gally managed to hear that with a slightly clearer head.
Gally wanted to quiet Vicki as so she could rest her brain. "Vicki, I must tell you about my previous conditions. Prior to coming into this onslaught of trans-warp time travel, fear and conflict, I was happily resting on Mars. I had a new flesh body, but that was decaying. Though the decay was said by doctors to be restricted to outside of my braincase—and my brain—I cannot be sure.
"To further put your concern-heavy opinions aside, I have something else to tell: My brain could just be hungry." Vicki found that Gally’s use of ‘brain’ was odd, how Gally described her brain as a separate entity. Wasn’t Gally her brain? Gally spoke on, her head deceptively more clearer. "I cannot say why my brain would be hungry so early, but it is just a possibility…. Yet, the most fesible explanation is that my wound’s pains surpassed my safe tolerance. No, go silent as I just want painless peace…"
Gally’s mouth opened, and she pulled much air into her mini-lungs. Gally murmured something else as she exhaled, was then asleep. The pain faded with unconsciousness. "Gally? Please speak to me. I need your help! What if my sister or Jamie show up?" Vicki closed her eyes to shut out the exterior world—the woods. She also stopped her false breathing. Concentrating, she had her mobility sub-processors to try alternate circuitry routes to parts of her body.
Vicki managed to barely move her right arm. She managed a push strong enough to roll her off of Gally’s left arm. Also, Vicki could slowly move her head. Now on her back, she looked at Gally: the cyborg’s small mouth puckered, her large eyes closed and her face relaxed. Her breathing was slow and rhythmic. Apparently, Gally was asleep. If Gally was in a coma or not was unknown.
Vicki was now alone and almost helpless. Her right arm was barely strong enough to do much, and her other limbs still refused to move. If someone did approach, both she and Gally would be in danger of being caught or injured. A full-flesh person could take a jackhammer to their chests and hit and hit and hit until something important broke. Rather, they could just slam that jackhammer against either of their throats and crush critical machinery: damage the interface between the processors of Vicki’s head and chest, or crush Gally’s metal windpipe as so she suffocated. Vicki hoped that if someone destroyed her, they decided to crush her neck as so there would be less prolonged pain.
With those thoughts, she decided to power down her mind until Gally
awakened again. If she were destroyed by a sudden apearance of her reconstructed
sister or rifle-toting Jamie, she would be killed in her "sleep" mode.
Though Vicki never actually needed sleep too often, the ability to "sleep"
helped her pass for being human and gave her processors chances to organize
whatever daily data she took in. Vicki’s simulated personality then went
mentally silent.
Gally recovered first. She felt her left side, which now felt to have the smoothness of her other side—though a bit weak. She heard the chattering something electronic—something with a tinny sound. It was a portable two-way radio. That radio was on a belt, the belt on someone’s uniform. That uniform belonged to someone with a polished piece of shiny metal on his shirt and a circular cap.
His flashlight shone on her face, seeing the face of a young girl. He could not quite place her age: seventeen, twenty-one, or something youngish. Her small height and petite female form was visible in the periphery of the beam. Also, her squinting did not help his judgements. With teenagers, he was to take on one attitude; with adults, he was supposed to be aggressive.
Well, these days, they were supposed to treat more suspects as adults. So, he did. The girl’s face flinched in the light. "Miss, before I proceed, I must inform you that there has been a severe incident of a violent nature. Such an event happened ten hours ago. All within the city limits, therefore, are suspect." He flicked the light off, then on. "You are suspect. So, start by telling me your name."
Gally sat up and curled her legs under her. She felt somewhat weak, almost drugged, from her sleep. "My name is Gally," she said, squinting her large dark eyes against the beam. "Gally? Is that it?" She added, "I sometimes use Daisuke as my family name…" "Daisuke? That’s what, foreign? Japanese? You sound as if you’ve made up your name on the spot! But…it’ll do for now."
The man then flicked his flashlight to the right. There was no hiding his high suspicion of probable foul play from what he saw. "And who’s that, ‘Gally?’ Is she also named ‘Daisuke?’" Weakly, Gally shook her head, then regretted it. Her head was clearing, but she still felt off-balance. She did not know why. Maybe her brain really was sick. Then, in compensation for the fever she felt, her face vented a more volatile liquid than sweat.
"What’s wrong, kid? You look like you’re on drugs. And your friend there could be in a stupor or something—or dead. Is your friend dead, Gally?" His flashlight went to Vicki, who was on her back—her simulated "breathing" circulating air inside to keep her systems cool. Gally looked at Vicki. "I cannot be too…sure. I believe she is well." The man’s light went back to Gally’s face, her face being downturned—and her dark hair down. By now, her eyesight and head were both clearing. More of her concentration came.
Until she could shake off more of the stupor, she passively answered whatever interrogations the man put at her. "What about drugs, huh? You look like a clean-cut sort of young lady. You’re not on pot or cocaine, are you? And look up when you talk." Gally looked up, her large eyes still squinting against the dark light. The man in the uniform then thought that the eyes reflected something red. Those eyes, there was something not fully right about them.
Gally squinted her eyes, then tried to look beyond the light in addressing the speaker. "No, no, I am not a consumer of recreational drugs. I try to keep my brain clean. It helps me keep my edge." The man’s face screwed in the darkness, a look of confusion. "Keeping your ‘brain’ clean? I’m sorry miss, but that is such an odd comment that I must ask for you to clarify. I really do think that you’re on some sort of recreational substance."
"I am not; I insist on that answer," she replied. "That may be for others, but a superior warrior is always a ‘clean’ one. Many Motorball players understand and side with such an outlook." The man’s face again took on that look of confusion that Gally could not see beyond the flashlight’s glare. "Motorball? Miss, I have never heard of that. Is that a new show on television or something? I really am becoming more suspicious of the truth of what you’re saying. Brain-talk, Motorball, and the way you’re holding your head tells me another story altogether." There was a cruel pause in the air.
Vicki chose then to come back online. She writhed on the brown floor, still unable to sit up. "Sheesh! That one has to be on drugs!" Gally’s voice became firm. "That is very doubtful: Vicki is unable to take pleasure from intoxicants." The man with the badge shrugged, yet managed to keep the flashlight pointed at Gally. "Really? Then why is she all laid out? Prop her up, miss." Gally then put her solid hands on Vicki’s shoulders, turned her over, then supported her upper body with solid hands.
His falshlight played over Vicki’s lips then to her right arm. "Since I don’t smell inhalants other than a bit of machine-oil, I’m beginning to suspect you two shot up with something. Roll up her right sleeve, Gally." Gally first had to lie Vicki on the ground before reaching across her now-repaired abdomen to carefully unbotton—then roll up Vicki’s sleeve. The skin underneath, unable to tan, was smooth and pale. He thought the arm too pale and smooth. Was that a plastic arm or something? No, there were no extra joints or anything. For now, he would just assume that her arms was as it was. "Now, the other," he said. Gally rolled the other sleeve up: more pale and too smooth skin.
"Now, about your costume, this is nowhere close to Halloween." Gally looked up: Halloween? And, why wear costumes out here? The man’s question’s seemed unusually invasive now. "This is not a costume. My body is one of synthetics…" Vicki whispered something. "Not a costume."
The man in the uniform was becoming quite suspicious of all of this confusion. The little lady (very little lady) awakens from a sort of stupor next to her…friend. She gives weird answers to questions as well. Her name was also weird, "Gally." One of the guys back at the station also does comic books. He considered "Gally" for the name of a comic, then threw the name away along with "Alita" and "Vivienne." As for her other responses, like mentioning "Motorball," she was still weird. Now, the conscious lady insisted that the getup of silver she wore was not a costume.
"Miss, I suspect that you hide contraband in your clothing, that armor costome. Please, remove the costume," he said. Gally’s eyes widened, her lips forming a small "o." "Come on, kid… Uh, Miss! If I must insist again, then I will have to take you down to the station on suspicion of concealing illegal substances—as well as being a suspect in a recent multiple murder investigation."
Murder investigation, arrest, suscpect…. Gally repeated those words. She mentally chided herself; this was a time in history in which security was public. The man was a public safety patrol officer, she realized. They were like the Hunter-Warriors of the 30th century, only they did not work just for bounty. All the same, his insisting on her being costumed began to make her more conscious of herself.
"Okay, Miss, let’s move," he said. He used his right hand to unholster his radio. "Bauer here, over…" he said into the radio. There was some chatter on the radio in response as the safety patrol officer continued to train his flashlight on the conscious girl. The costume was pretty good—too good.
And, he just realized how good the costume was, how well it fit and how it actually went into parts of her body. Generally, that girl’s exoskeleton had the smooth curves and sections of a human body that were joined with joint-work that covered the finer connections and machine-work. The "costume" looked as if it fit very closely—almost constrictive, then. But, Gally’s body had not been given the extra flanges and such to cover all of her body’s jointwork. The officer saw the peripheral control strands in her elbows. He also saw how parts of the metal kneecap actually made her knees. And, he saw the bare thick rods of Gally’s neck and saw her metal throat. Her face, he realized, was the only thing that seemed "natural" on her.
"Jeesus! What happened to you! You look like… like…" The officer found it very difficult to speak. His flashlight was still on her and he still held the chattering radio, but he himself was now the one that seemed suddenly drugged. The girl began to sob. He saw her metal throat move slightly as she made sad noises. She then crossed her arms over her electromechanical body and turned her head to the side.
"I didn’t mean to… Look, I didn’t mean to say it that way. I mean, I thought that you just had a costume. If doctors gave you prosthetics or something, maybe you shouldn’t be out here, or something. What if…" blithered the officer. By now his blithering moved into gibbering as Gally just continued to look more fearful and ashamed. She writhed in the light, sobs and the sounds of metal armor jointwork moving.
He dropped his radio. Gally suddenly moved up and struck out simultaneously with her left hard hand. The flashlight’s head practically exploded, and the large cylindrical batteries came plopping out of the damaged thing.
The officer was now just left in darkness. He heard the strange girl
moving, heard her sobs as well. Then, he heard very spry footsteps go off
into the distance—deeper into the woods. He was now alone in the darkness,
with no radio, after that extremely disturbing encounter: That was the
first time Officer Bauer had ever seen a true-life cyborg. And, in his
lifetime, it was most probably the last. That one encounter, though, was
enough for him. As it was, it just seemed so dark now. With arms and legs
shaking, he picked up his radio and went in the direction he thought was
"out" of the dim woods. The moon was not much help.
Now, Gally was off and running again—again with a crippled Vicki. With cold and odd tears coming from her eyes, she ran through the moonlit woods at the speed of thirty miles-per-hour. Sometimes, her hard feed struck and kicked throughthings in the darkness—maybe logs, maybe brush, maybe an occasional and surprised animal. And, the dim and dark woods competed with another type of darkness.
"Gally, slow down! There’s no logic to this crazy running!" said the synthetic girl over her shoulder. But, Gally’s head was full of many horrible emotions: there was first fear of being in this very strange time period and in these strange woods. Now, there was shame and self-hatred. She did not want to be a cyborg again. She once swore to die with the flesh body that luck had once given her. Now, she was a monster again. Gally began to think that even the robot-girl over her shoulder was more human than she was.
Suddenly, what little light there was had vanished. Maybe, the moon went behind the clouds. Or, perhaps Gally entered a part of the woods that was so thick with foliage that even the moonlight could not filter through. Another horrible explanation was that she had gone blind. She just knew it to be very dark now.
Gally scraped to a stop. "Now it’s dark," said Gally. Vicki turned her head to the left and right, allowing the light amplification abilities of her eyes to take effect—which had no effect. Somehow, there was no visible light in the place. It was true darkness now. "Yes, now it’s dark," said Vicki. Gally pulled in a shuddering breath, and it was not because her lungs were malfunctioning.
Gally knelt, then slowly put Vicki down. "What are you doing! Gally! I’m scared! Don’t let go!" shouted Vicki. As the computer chips and crystal matrices of her mind lacked visual data on her environment, the synthetic girl was truly "frightened"; humans are also frightened when not able to see what is around them. Vicki’s mobility systems were still being repaired by nanobots, but she could move slightly.
"Do you understand why I put you down?" whispered Gally. "I put you down because, if we are attacked, we will have to be attacked separately." Vicki processed the statement, then went into more fear. The fear threatened to cause a temporary shutdown of her systems now as the computers in her head and chest heated. Gally spoke as if there was the probability of this being where they would both be destroyed by any sort of attack.
"It is so dark," whispered Gally. A whoosh and a burst of light came from where Vicki was standing, and she shrieked—making Gally leap forward and into a forward flip away from the eplosion. She then landed on her armored palms and tumbled several times. In a kneeling position, the cyborg listened. She heard the crackling of flames. That could have been an incendiary grenade that exploded, causing such a flare-up; an ordinary grenade would have spread shrapnel and blast.
Then again, the sound was had not quite been a blast. Gally looked back and saw a knee-high fire. She saw Vicki huddled away from it. Gally went flat, then carefully crawled along the ground with her body coming close to the ground. This way, she could avoid enemy gunfire.
This was like a return the Interplanetary Wars she had almost forgotten about so early in her life. Then, there was so much pain. Her family was killed. As a child, she had been hurt. And, as soon as her brain reached adulthood, she was put into a slender and small female fighting body of alloy.
Now, again, she was back in that type of body. And, there was that…campfire? Gally’s eyes saw that Vicki was huddled away from a flame made by crossed combustible cylinders. By now, Gally had crawled close to Vicki’s face. "Vicki, come back online. That was a campfire."
"PERSONALITY EMULATION PROGRAM SUSPENDED—NANOCLUSTER MALFUNCTION. PLEASE
STATE INSTRUCTIONS…" she said in a loud monotone—almost as loud as a shout
against the relative quiet. Gally squinted against the outburst. This was
an evil time for the synthetic girl to malfunction.
"Your friend speaks simply and strangely," said a voice forward and to the right. "In a way, I agree with the first comment," said a voice to the left. Clearly, their position had been given away by Vicki’s outburst. Now, Gally would probably have to kill this time. She slowly rose, her fist warming and flaring into a greenish glow.
Gally, standing over Vicki, saw two men at the campfire. As the firelight flickered, illuminating, she could see them. The one on the left wore floppy, torn clothes and a hat. The hat was actually in good condition. His beard told of him not having a shave for some time. He was probably very poor—homeless. He gave off a slight smell, it also seemed. But Gally saw nothing too unusual about this: When she lived in Scrap Iron City, perhaps half the population was made up of squatters at any given time.
The one on the right was the bearded man’s clear opposite. His jaw was clean-shaven, and his pale and smooth face seemed scrubbed. His head was topped with crew-cut dark hair and—as far as the flickering firelight allowed—neatly combed. His business suit was just as immaculate. Gally smelled nothing when the slight breezes blew from his direction.
Then, even the smell from the one on the left vanished, was replaced with the smell of pine. There was the smell of pine needles, though the woods Vicki and Gally had been in were of deciduous trees. Gally could not understand the oddity. In fact, the cyborg failed to understand the entire odd feeling of this scene.
"I must believe that the girl of metal mettle is frightened into anger. Her fists, they glow with the greenish light of stars," said the voice on the left. "I can see the glow of her fists," said the one on the right, "but I cannot tell if she is more frightened than angry. Which is the stronger emotion?"
The man on the right looked at Gally, his scrubbed face now half-lit by the firelight, then said, "In this case, I would have to say anger." They both looked at the fire and gave light laughter. Gally was now thoroughly confused, discombobulated. These men, what were they doing? How did they get here? She then let her fists cool, and the plasma glow ceased.
"REPAIRS COMPLETE. MOBILITY SYSTEMS ONLINE," said the robot girl in a flat and simple robot voice. Vicki then sat up and faced the fire. Though the synthetic girl could move again, the blank and emotionless look on Vicki’s face told Gally that she was now more robot than human. Vicki’s personality must still be on "standby" until the conditions seemed safe again.
If Vicki were human, she would have fainted. Gally, her eyes flickering left and right at the two odd men, thought of Vicki. It must be odd, having a backup personality that could take over one’s body in case of troubles. As a human being has a subconscious, Vicki had a "subconscious," a program behind her simulated human personlaty. Vicki, Gally decided, was a very strange person. That was understandable as Vicki was not quite a person.
"We do not want to fight you or your friend," said the one on the right, "but we do want you to stay close to our campfire." Gally looked at him, her eyes again challenging. She thought, What if I do not want to remain by your campfire? "This is not an ordinary campfire, though," said the one on the left. "Indeed, maybe it is more than simply fire. Or, maybe not. That just may be."
"You puzzle your speech, and what you say lacks clarity. Are you able to speak plainly?" said and asked Gally. The rags-wearing one on the left said, "I am speaking plainly, metal-bodied girl. If I spoke any more plain, I would have to speak as your artificial friend does." The neatly clothed one on the right added, "You must seek boredom, asking for people to talk like robots!"
"I want answers. And, currently, you fail to give them," said Gally. Vicki’s head turned on her neck, twisting right and upward. Vicki’s neck was more flexible than a humans’, and she showed that now—with her personality emulation programming off. Gally looked down, then looked somewhat disgusted. "Vicki, you seem ready to speak. So, do speak."
"THEIR STATEMENTS THUS FAR ARE PRIMARILY CORRECT," she said in her robot monotone, eyes expressionless as her mouth moved. "HOWEVER, AN INDIRECT ANALYSIS WAS REQUIRED TO PROPERLY ASCERTAIN THEIR MEANING. THE HUMAN IS ADVISED TO BETTER-CONSIDER THEIR STATEMENTS." Vicki’s loudish monotone was beginning to slightly annoy Gally, but she listened all the same.
Gally frowned, then mentally shrugged off the oddity of the statements of those two. So, let their foolish little mysteries remain. As Gally continued to regard the odd men at the fire, Vicki sighed. "Peronality emulation programming—simulated personality—back online," she said in a normal human tone, then wriggling and curling her knees close to her chest. She looked around. "What happened? And, who are those two?" she asked.
"Vicki, perhaps you should put those questions to our third bit of company," said Gally. The two men looked into the darkness beyond the campfire. "Hello, Alf," said the rags-dressed one on the left. "It is a true time for meetings, and those two just arrived," said the business-suited one on the right. Just then, the short and red-furred being stepped into the light of the campfire, standing just far right of it that Gally and Vick could both see the odd creature.
"You cannot be what—or who--I believe you are," said Vicki. "No, my data input processors must still be malfunctioning. Maybe the infusion of nanobots is incompatible with my systems?" Her eyes remained on the red-furred and camel-snouted humanoid of small stature. She still tried to analyze him. But, her data procesors already identified him as inhuman.
"And a good howdy-do to you too, babe!" said Alf. "If you think I’m impossible, then how could I possibly be here? You think that some things are impossible, when they are actually possible." The red-furred man then spread out his arms, floppy furry hands open. "Why must you make everything so complicated?" he asked.
Alf reached down, picked something up off of the ground, then tossed it into the fire. With a hissing sound, the fire became shorter—but remained just as bright. Alf then addressed Vicki and Gally over the fire. The two odd men stared at Vicki and Gally as well. Both the synthetic girl and the cyborg’s eyes were on the red-furred being, though.
"I know your name, robot-girl—Vicki. I also know what you have to do to win with your current war. Gally already met me in, well…another place. And now, you’re meeting me. I’m here to help you. This is a war, and you two need my help. So…"
"A war?" shouted the synthetic girl. Her voice was with loud fear, shattering the peace of the dark woods all around. "You said that this is a war? That’s not fair! We’re just barely staying alive and in one piece! How can you make us fight a war? I wasn’t constructed and programmed fight! Why us? "
Gally moved to sit next to Vicki, then looked into her eyes. Alf explained more. "Yeah, it’s bad, isn’t it? You live your nice little life, trying to make something of yourself instead of just being an ordinary person—robot, cyborg, whatever. Then, reality flops and you’re in crazy and dangerous situations where everything is depressing, dangerous and possibly deadly." Alf slowly shook his head, the sound of the crackling low-fire filling the silence.
He then spoke on. "It’s not as if I’m writing your current life’s story, Vicki." Alf then made almost a pleading gesture, hands out and palms upward. "I can’t help but saying this, but life doesn’t always play by decent rules. Sometimes, the normal ways of the universe get just a little messed up. Then, some people get hurt. And, some more people get hurt—unless someone stops it.
"Or maybe, I’m too far gone to explain it all to you. I’m just a middle guy, not really the one responsible." One of his large and plush finger pointed at Gally. "The cyborg there ought to be able to tell you about war. Considering her recent change in attitude about all this, she’s probably got a little something to say."
Gally looked into the dancing and flickering yellow flame, looking beyond it. She was probably looking beyond it, trying to look into past memories of hers. Slow sadness in her voice, she spoke. "I remember war, Vicki. I hate to remember it, but the memories are there—stuck in my brain. The gunfire, the fear, the slow and tiring mess of it. First, a person feels frightened all the time because there is no way of knowing what will happen. Then, there is the feeling of being tired all the time. And it’s the feeling of being tired and sick."
Gally stared into Vicki’s eyes. "You must feel it now, hmm? You probably cannot think in straight ways. Right now, your mind must be running around inside of what you have for a brain. Then, your mind becomes tired or broken." Gally raised her right pointer finger, then pointed at Vicki. "Then, if you’re broken, you will probably become a warrior.
"You first stop caring about how many people you kill. You watch them fall, broken and dead, and your emotions treat it as business. Then, for those with bodies of synthetics, we…change. We begin to make killing more…" Gally smiled, "more fun." The light of the fire made odd reflections in her large and dark eyes. Vicki’s processors did not have positive analyses of that look, and she looked away.
Gally still smiled, the lips of her pseudo-human face still wide. Alf said, "That’s what war is like, robo-babe. What we’re doing now is going against the enemy. The enemy is evil, and she likes being as nasty as can be." Gally turned to Alf and "humphed" the mentioning of "evil." Alf spoke on. "She wants to really mess things up. In particular, she wants to mess you up. Then, she wants to mess up Southern California. Then, oh yes, she will move on. Our enemy wants to really mess up the times."
Alf then pointed beyond Vicki and Gally. "You didn’t like what was out there, did you? Well, that’s darkness, kiddies. It’s scary, and the only light you get is the light to see scary things with." There was a shriek out there, and Gally leapt to stand up. "No, toots, that’s probably just an owl, or something." Just an owl, contemplated Gally.
Alf continued, his voice stronger. "But, you two, what if it weren’t just an owl? What if that were the scream of someone being killed? Imagine that scream happing hundreds of times over, every year. Imagine your time period becoming full of screams Vicki, you know? Imagine a place called Scrap Iron City: a state-wide industrial zone where there’s always plenty of screams, Vicki, plenty of screams. Imagine that place as where most of the darkest and nastiest nightmares of the future come true: cities like prisons, cracked buildings and concrete that are just kept from falling apart, people going crazy ’cause they’re cyborgs, brains jammed into metal bodies, pollution filling the sky, factory buildings on every other block! And, imagine a big nasty floating city overhead full of people that don’t care! I’m talking about a post-apocalyptal land of fascism and darkness, baby!"
Vicki processed the statements, compared them to the crime rates of Southern California, and refused that statement. "That’s insane talk, Alf! I’ve never been to a place called Scrap Iron City! That talk, all of that about people like Gally and violence all the time, it can’t happen to my time period!"
Gally placed a solid hand on Vicki’s softer shoulder. "I once lived there, Vicki. Thinking about that city, a city that existed a thousand years beyond your time, I can say that it was dark there. And, I would not want your time period to suffer the same troubles. As for Thunderhorse, the name is still tough on me…."
Alf shrugged; it was no use trying to get them to remember the man Thunderhorse. Oh well, he thought, best get tell them to move on to the next mission. "Believe whatever you want, Vicki, but remember that the enemy and her two minions want to kill you. But you should already know that, because of experience." Vicki lowered her face, her hands going to the place in her torso where her adopted human brother Jamie had shot her. That statement got her.
"Anyway, I know where you two have to go next. There’s a nuke power plant not too far from here. In the morning, the enemy is going to try to take that place. If you don’t stop them, then Southern California is pretty much dead. Then, the enemy has a start on darkening the 20th century—and onward. Before I leave you, Gally is going to need this." Alf reached down to some place before the fire that the gynoid and cyborg could not see. He then lifted it—a book. He tossed it at Gally, over the low fire.
Gally saw it coming, and it passed through her fingers, then faded before
it struck her chest. "Where is it, Alf?" asked Vicki. "What did you have
to give to Gally?" Gally’s metal fingers were going to various places on
her torso and abdomen. Indeed, where did that book go?
"You failed to see the book, Vicki?" asked Gally. "I saw nothing, Gally,
other than Alf make a tossing gesture in your direction." Gally chose not
to ask further questions. There were probably reasons why Vicki did not
see that book. Maybe, the lack of a soul meant that a robot could not see
certain things. That could also explain why Alf only appeared to Gally
in the dream-place?
"I didn’t see what you gave Gally, Alf," said the synthetic girl. "What does that mean? Are my processors really still damaged? Tell me!" Vicki’s confusion was coming again. Alf shook his head several times. "Well, I’m becoming tired. See you!" Then, the fire suddenly went out.
Gally and Vicki’s eyes adjusted to the dimness that followed. Everything
was gone: the campfire, the two odd men and the Alf-thing. But, the moon
shone full and brighter, and a comfortable breeze blew through the vast
forest. Vicki, not truly needing sleep, remained active as Gally’s brain
slept through the rest of the night. Also, fully repaired, Vicki could
now mentally load maps of the local area. In fact, there was a nuclear
power plant close by….
The Darkening: Chapter #5
--Gally’s side feels usnusually cold and there is still some hissing.
But, she is recovering as the jagged wound in her side is now nearly closed;
her body’s nanobots were still at work. Vicki’s abdomen, meanwhile, is
closed—but she still malfunctions. They then talk about what to do, how
they worry about what they’re up against this time. Gally’s brain is tired
again, and she worries that her brain may be suffering from the same malady
she had earlier. She falls asleep, leaving Vicki paralyzed and alone in
the woods. Gally slept on as the sun set.
--Sjhe comes to a campfire with Vicki over her shoulder. There are
two people there: a raggedy man named Dale and a business-suited clean-cut
man named Cooper.
--Vicki is able to sit up, and they offer Gally coffee (Dale heats it and pours it into a cup. Cooper adds sugar and hands the cup to Gally—who drinks it. It is very good. She hands it back and then feels her side—which is fully repaired. Be sure to type this line: That was some damned good coffee!
--They talk in an abstract way about darkness and about people with
darkness in their hearts. Vicki looks at the two, detecting electromagnetic
anomalies: There was something abnormal about those two. Gally is hypnotized
by the flames and lets the conversation continue—until she gives a paragraph
about her own experience with "evil."
--(1 pgs)Vicki does not quite believe who that is across from her
at the fire, and Alf says that he doesn’t believe in her. But, Alf
explains that reality and time are being ruined by someone misusing time
travel.
(1 pg) Also, Vicki complains about the pain and violence that they’ve been through so far. She says that humans are fools for fighting—and for making her sister dark.
--Alf says that Vicki let Gally explain about what war is, because this is war.
--(1 pg)Gally talks about the darkness of warfare: pain, endurance, misery….
--(1 pgs) Alf says that this is what is happening: This is war between what is right and what is dark. (Imagine the fire to be them two and evil to be the darkness around them. If those two were to fail to stop the person responsible for fouling up time, stop Jamie and the Mechminx, then darkness comes in.
--(1 pg) Anyway, Alf knows that Jamie and the Mechminx are going to take over a nuke plant. And, when the time comes, Gally will know what to do.