“Ha! I have heard that idea. But, first of all, nobody knows if it’s possible to survive the Big Crunch, and secondly, humans created … Citizens, if you want to call yourselves that, not the other way round. There are no traces of Citizens before the first humans, four or five million years ago. In fact, there are no traces of Citizens before about the first millennium AD.”
“You are quite correct in the first case. Even though the Android – I hate that term – Human Alliance, the AHA, eventually proved the Penrose model of two alternately expanding and contracting universes correct in 0.1B, it is mere speculation to suggest that any species could survive the collapse of either Universe A or B. Such survival would depend on the postulated existence of the Iris Star of Blinker, as some call it.”
But you are quite wrong about the existence of Citizens before cl-… humans. I have seen the evidence. Recently, archaeologist on Earthone found the oldest hominid, Arnie. He existed 5.4 million years BC. Only a few days ago, a news bulletin announced that they had isolated some DNA from Arnie and that it contained tensi. These tensi are basically the Maker’s Stamp; repeated molecule strings which hand off DNA strands and form the letters ‘MC,’ which we know mean ‘Made by Citizens.’”
“Well, I admit I know nothing about chemistry but my dad told me there is no proof that MC stands for ‘Made by Citizens.’ Where is your proof?”
“They don’t exist anymore because they are not required but they first appear with the first hominids! They had no other use. What else could they be for?”
“That is no proof. Even you should know that! And if … Citizens did exist before humans, where are their remains?”
“As I am sure you know, since you are so well-informed, we Citizens have made ourselves biodegradable, in the name of Conservation, which is our highest calling.”
Ishmael and Chance had passed the steps to the Tri-mex building, which Ishmael barely glanced at, and now Chance stopped at a low building inside a roughly constructed fence.
“What is this?” Ishmael asked.
“I wanted to show you something,” Chance replied.
“I would like to learn anything about your culture.”
Chance pushed open a gate and led Ishmael round to the back of the low building. Three cows grazed in a tiny meadow of scrawny grass.
Ishmael stared for a moment and asked:
“Cows! Real cows! I have never see one. I have seen tigers and camels in my minority. Can I touch one?”
“Sure. They are docile.”
As if they had heard, the cows trotted up to the two visitors and muzzled Chance’s hand for something tasty to eat. They were wary of Ishmael but Chance grabbed a clump of grass and stuck it into Ishmael’s good hand:
“Hold it out. They will eat it.”
When the cow had taken all the grass, Ishmael patted the curly hairs on the top of its head and said;
“Well, I am glad to see you still have farms and are cultivating.”
“They are the last we have. We have tried to breed more and grow crops but we were left with little more than dust. Nothing much grows here.”
“What do you use as fertilizer?”
“I’ll show you.”
Chance led Ishmael back to the shed opened the door and said:
“Won’t go in myself. My dad forbids it and anyway, I don’t want to look. But I know what is in there.”
Ishmael walked into a large, tiled workshop. In one corner, lay a large heap of dry soil. In another, lay a pile of grey ash. In the centre, stood a row of three ovens. But his eyes were drawn to a long, slick stone table. Upon it lay human remains; parts of human torsos, limbs teeth and bones. Ishmael turned and walked out of the room. The look of horror and confusion on his face forced and explanation from Chance:
“The dust we manage to scrape up is mixed with ash from burned corpses. Some of the flesh is left to decompose under the soil as fertilizer; we still have flies and worms. It’s purely voluntary for us to do this when we die, but, in reality, everyone volunteers. You see, there are only a million of us here.”
“Yes I know. That was the figure set by the Alliance. It has to remain constant.” But Ishmael’s mouth worked on automatic. His mind still struggled to cope with the disparity between what he had seen and what he had read in books about clones.
“It’s a sort of conservation, I suppose,” Chance quipped.
Ishmael shook his head.
***
“We have to be heading back,” Chance told Ishmael at the farm gate. “He will have to hold this briefing pretty soon if we are going to attack. And we need to fix your arm so you can help us.”
“Attack? What attack?”
“Attack Supercity. Now we can get in through the fan!”
“But why didn’t a clone jam the fan mechanism?”
“We have been trying for many years. At first, they closed down most of the fans. Only two remain; one near the roof and the one your came through. We can’t reach the one near the roof. Well, one crazy guy created a flying machine and nearly made it, but that’s another story. Anyway, the fan was high on Supercity wall so, to reach it, we had to build a scaffold. The only material we had was our own buildings. It took most of them to reach the half mile up the wall. Many attempted to get through the fan. At first, specially programmed Police Supers defended it from your side and those that reached the fan were captured or fell to their deaths. Now they have installed much faster laser guns. Anyway, to answer your question, we got as close as you saw me but they have an armoured hub over the mechanism. Our lasers simply can’t cut through it. That’s why I told you to shoot it out while you were in the duct.”
“Ah, the attack; it explains a lot. I think they have been expecting it for some time. That is why they build the Supercity Army.”
“They know? We have to tell my dad. This is not good.”
Chance quickened her pace but before they reached Scaffold City, had to risk one more question. She could see now how clever her father had been in leaving her alone with the android. The machine seemed to like her and had told her a lot in a short space of time. Perhaps it could tell her more:
“How did you manage to kill the soldier?”
“Which one?”
“The one you got the laser from?”
“I found that a metal bar, thrust through the back of the neck, seemed to work quite well.”
“I see. That’s something else we need to tell my dad. Since they will only stun us at worst, we can creep up on them and poleaxe them!”
“I do not think so. They are designed to ‘Terminate on Sight;’ I heard the President say so.”
“But that’s not possible. No Andr-… I mean Citizen, has ever killed a clone intentionally.”
***
Night had fallen when Jonr opened the briefing. A large hall had been filled to capacity with 10,000 men and women, mostly dressed in camouflage fatigues. Ishmael and Chance sat to one side of the stage, with a line of twenty leaders.
Earlier, while Kris repaired Ishmael’s arm, Chance told her dad what Ishmael had said about Supercity’s Army.
“They know about the attack?” Jonr exclaimed. “It’s impossible. Nobody that telepaths knows of it!”
“Makes sense,” Kris muttered. “They know we are desperate because of the Hangar lights. They know, and we know, that time is running out.”
“And RBs,” added Ishmael, not really knowing what they were talking about.
“RBs?” Jonr repeated.
“Reality Breakdowns are increasing,” Ishmael explained.
“Right. But if they know about the attack, they either have somebody on the inside or they have some kind of listening device.”
“No way, they have somebody on the inside,” Kris protested.
“Yeah. Unlikely. Anyway, it would take too long to find out. We have to assume they have something. That means we can’t meet in the Great Hall unless … .”
Immediately, a detailed sear
ch began, to find any kind of listening device the Supercity might have planted in Scaffold City. Efforts were concentrated near the Great Hall and Johr’s living quarters. After they had completely ripped that apart and found nothing, they widened the search to dwellings around it. They found wires, which led to a black sensor under the eaves of a neighbouring room. They found nothing in the hall.
“There still might be something here,” Kris suggested, sitting among a pile of ripped up floorboards in the hall.
“Put them back. We’ll have to risk it. All the secret stuff is normally discussed at my place and I need everyone together for this. There can be no chain-of-command cock-ups. Anyway, there’s no time.”
Now, Jonr stood at the front of the stage and announced that they would attack the following day.
A roar went up, which the leader had some difficulty quelling so that he could continue:
“This time, we have an ally. Our friend here,” he said, indicating Ishmael, “is a fugitive from Supercity and he has damaged the fan from inside so it will take Supercity engineers a few days to repair it. This gives us the window of opportunity we have been looking for and will forever be in his debt. We have to succeed first time. He has actually terminated a soldier. He did it using a metal rod, pushing through the back of the neck so all your lasers will have a heavy, sharpened rod welded on. Use it!”
Our friend has also told us that we will have to fight our way through miles of tunnels and that there is no longer any form of vegetation in Supercity so your camouflage will be useless. Everybody must dye their suits black and paint white stripes on them in a random pattern like this!” He held up a suit that Kris had prepared before the briefing. “Our friend, who is called Ishmael by the way, also has the very latest laser and we have picked up a few tricks from it. However, there is not time to upgrade you all; one in ten of you will receive the upgrades.
“Now, it seems that although they had instructions to Terminate Ishmael on sight, the soldier bots were reluctant to do it. Now, you may say, ‘Well, this fits in with their Laws of Conservation,’ and that they will only stun us but I’m not so sure. I have talked with Ishmael at length about this and we are both agreed that the soldiers will have been designed to kill humans – although they call us clones – based on the principle that our invasion of Supercity represents a threat to the stability of the whole colony here on Marstoo. In other words, these soldiers have been designed for one purpose and that is to kill human rebels. So be very careful.”
Jonr’s understated warning brought a ripple of chuckles from the huge audience.
“Now, you may have wondered how we know that the soldiers were ordered to kill Ishmael. It seems that our friend here can pick up network traffic, which, of course, at soldier level is totally secure. But it seems it is not, at the highest level; within the President’s office. This is our edge. So I want you to stick to all commands that come down the chain and then we will succeed.”
It only remains for me to point out the obvious; many of you will die but when, not if, we succeed, once again humans will have control of their own destiny on Marstoo and that surely has to be worth fighting, and dying, for!”
A roar of approval went up from the audience, which Jonr allowed to die down naturally. He grinned and concluded:
“We are the Rebel Army and we are going to win!” His audience erupted again but this time he hushed them with his arms spread wide. “All squad commanders stay behind. The rest of you; dismissed and good luck!”
***
After Jonr had briefed his commanders, he took Ishmael and Chance under his arms and led them to his dwelling for a feast. His partner, Mira, a hazel-eyed beauty with matching hair, helped him stashed away the best food for such an occasion and. Ishmael could only dispose of the the liquid part of the meal, through a narrow tube in his mouth, a courtesy device from the days when Citizens cohabited with humans. However, he enjoyed the friendly conversation and the warmth the family extended to him. The meal reminded of those he had spent with his parents so long ago. Mira often stole glances at him and at the end of the meal, mentioned how like a human Ishmael seemed. For some reason he could not explain to himself, he felt complimented.
“Do you have … family in Supercity?” she asked.
“Not really. My parents were naturally terminated a long time ago. Their M-tags will still exist … somewhere … I have a girlfriend but we are not married and have no children. I don’t know why that must be.” He cast his eyes down sadly.
Neither Jonr nor Mira knew what an M-tag was, nor why he seemed so sad but they asked no further questions.
“Will you be involved in the attack?” Ishmael asked Mira.
“Yes. Of course. Only the old and children will stay behind. It must succeed!”
He smiled at her determination.
“Now, I have two things I have to show you Ishmael. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Jonr led his guest and daughter down to the ground level and began the long trek to the east wall.
“We don’t have vehicles here. We walk everywhere. I hope you don’t mind the exercise.”
“No. I am fully charged.”
Jonr seemed suddenly lost in thought.
Eventually, they reached a metal and glass structure, at the base of the cavern wall. Beside it, a metallic stairway zigzagged to the top of the wall, a mile above. On the other side, three queues of clones lined up outside other elevators marked ‘Public.’
Jonr led them inside and into a large metal cage.
“An elevator,” Ishmael suggested.
“Yes. We don’t use it very often but only this one goes almost to the top and, as leader, it’s one of my privileges – when time is short.” Jonr winked at Ishmael, who immediately understood the joke and felt a pleasant surge of emotion.
I like this man.
The other elevators stopped about two thirds of the way to a platform, near the top of the cavern. Outside the elevator, Ishmael could see many people, either ascending wearily, or descending the stairway. It wasn’t long before the elevator halted but not at the top of the stairs.
“We must climb the rest of the way,” Jonr explained. “The structure above is no longer safe.”
At last, Ishmael reached the platform at the stop of the steps, slightly behind Jonr and Chance.
“Look Ishmael. Isn’t it pretty?” Chance exclaimed. She nodded towards the vast, panoramic windows in front of him. Ishmael had already seen the circle of a myriad bright lights in the distance. From time to time, one would wink out, as something passed in front of it, followed by the wink of its neighbour. The huge structure, outside the protective covering of the cavern seemed to be a few miles away and about half a mile in diameter.
“What is it?” Ishmael asked.
“A spaceship,” Jonr replied. “Built to survive the Big Crunch. Isn’t she a beauty?”
“But why haven’t I heard of it? A ship that size should be all over the news!”
“Top Secret; that’s why!” Jonr replied. “And we helped build it! It is designed for a crew of androids and humans but the androids, or Citizens, as you call them, have taken over the whole project and locked us out! It will leave in the next few months. That is why we have been increasing our attempts to get inside Supercity.”
“I think perhaps I understand something!” Ishmael exclaimed. “The Army has been set up to protect a Project Infinity. This could be it!”
“Yes! Probably.”
“But where is Supercity?” Ishmael asked. “I should be able to see it from here. It is above ground.”
Jonr pointed to the south. “See those flat panels there, stretching away into the distance? That’s the roof of Supercity.”
“No. It can’t be! It is above ground! I look at the sky every night. Sometimes I see liners, on their way to Earthtoo. I even went there once!”
“Sorry Ishmael. Supercity is below ground, just like Clonecity. The new arrivals on this plane
t, found only one likely place to build a colony; inside a great north-south canyon. That is what it is. The planet has enough starlight for life but its surface is inhospitable and has no life-forms. The temperature out there reaches 100 degrees centigrade – below zero. It’s the same above zero during the daytime. We used to maintain the vast fields of starlight generators out there that provide energy for the cities. But we are not permitted anymore. It’s done by bots now.” Jonr could see the look of disbelief on Ishmael’s face. “Sorry. Somebody has lied to you.”
“But Citizens cannot … .”
“Lie?” Chance finished. “You told me you lied to the Policeman.”
“Yes. Something is very wrong here. I no longer know what is real and what I am!” Ishmael concluded.
“Welcome to the world!” declared Jonr. “Reality is not a single entity. There are many layers of reality, the most solid of which is the one shared by most. For instance, we all live in a Universe; Universe A. That is a single reality and we all share it. It is the foundation of our culture. It may change one day but for now, it is our foundation. Other realities may be personal, fleeting, or exist only between two lovers. I want to show you something else. Come with me.”
As Jonr led them back to the stairs, he pointed out a welded-up set of doors in the wall:
“We used to have our own corridor to the spaceship. The Androids cut us out and removed the corridor. You can see where it used to run. We could unseal the door but we don’t have the technology or materials to build spacesuits anymore.”
***
Jonr led Ishmael and Chance back to the steps of the Tri-mex building, where he sent Chance off to bed.
“She needs to get a good night’s sleep,” Jonr explained. “She will be in the attack tomorrow. Fourteen is old enough, in my books. Do you sleep Ishmael?”
“Yes. We need to sleep, to regenerate our thought patterns,”
“But does your performance deteriorate if you miss a night’s sleep?” Jonr asked, leading Ishmael up the steps of the obsidian building.
“No.”
“Ours does.”
Jonr took out a set of large keys and proceeded to unlock a set of padlocks.
“The mind-imprint locks no longer work,” he explained.
When all the chains were removed from the door handles, Jonr swung the great doors open and led his guest into a vast concourse.