A New World of Peace
A new world of peace. A place where we can live in safety and security. We will not make the mistakes of the past—we will not learn war anymore. These Titans brought destruction and ruin to our world, and we let them. No. We made them. They are idiot creature bound to our will, and our will was destruction. But now, a new epoch is dawning. These Titans brought our civilization to ruin, but now they will raise it up to new heights of prosperity and peace. The plowshare initiative will save us. We are in need now more than ever of largescale labor and with the population losses in the war, we are left with one option—the titans. Bremis corp. has all ready shown that the Atlas heavy can be used to effectively extract minerals. The phase-shift plasma cannon can be recalibrated to excavate rock instead of raze cities. I know many of you remember the devastation these machines brought and you aren’t comfortable with them existing, but we have no other choice. Fifty percent of the population is dead and every city is in dust. There is no other choice—we must use the Titans.
A surge crossed over the screen from the boundaries to the center, leaving darkness in its wake. The static air popped and flashed above the dim glass. A dark figure loomed against the opposing wall, intently staring at the black screen. He crossed over to the box, casting his shadow against the numerous objects resting on the wall; his figure falling over shelves of books, miscellaneous machinery, and old firearms. He depressed the eject button causing a slight whirring from inside the box followed by the cassette sliding out into the air. Gripping it between his thumb and forefinger, he pulled the cassette out and slid it into his front breast pocket.
A weak beam shone in through the decayed window, scattered by the lose cloud of dust drifting slowly about the room. His eyes move up to rest on the rows of mildewed books set into the third shelf. Dust puffed out of the ancient pages as he flipped the cover over revealing the cracked paper. The Principal of Higher Ethics in Advanced Hartley-Benson Neurological Simulations by Dr. Samantha Gates. He thumbed through the dense tomb full of forgotten technical jargon and arcane equations. A spell book, he thought, as the book dropped to the floor, decomposing into a pile of tattered paper and cracked leather. Knocking the volumes onto the ground, he ran his arm over the shelf, clearing out the case. These ancient books were worthless trickery, Broken promises, and a false prophet. He pushed the remains into a small pile in the center of the dim room. Holding a tattered shard of paper, he clicked his lighter to spawn a minute blue flame that lapped at the dry fringes of the yellowed parchment. The edge lit in orange light as the combustion tore its way up through the material, blackening the page. He dropped it into the pile and slowly the orange glow shown through the red and brown leather bindings until the entire mass was engulfed.
Mad figures danced against the cold concrete walls to the demonic cracking of the fire. His bag rested against the emptied bookcase. Picking up the last uncharred book, he glanced at the title. Maintenance of Neuromotor Coupling Blocks for use in Neuro-Cyber Augmentation BREMIS Inc. He blinked while tracing out the words again. Moving his left arm up, he looked at the base of his shoulder just under the tattered fringes of his shirt. A faint outline of BREMIS was visible on the dorsal aspect of his shoulder module. He tossed the book onto his bag and slumped down against an adjacent wall. Staring into the flames, his breath steadied and flowed in and out smoothly. The light crackling filled the room, canceling out the faint whirs of his servos and the incessant tinnitus. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing, working the air in, then out, in, then out. He opened his eyes to the faint orange glow of the books smoldering beneath the small tendrils of the golden flames.
Silently he walked to his bag, and bending over, he read the title of the video cassette he had removed from the player. S.G. News Conference. Observing the plastic figure of the old cartridge, he recalled he had picked another one up on his journey to this room. He had obtained the cassette after having broken down a door and smashed a malfunctioning security drone, he found it inside a desk which was covered in weaponry, medical packs, and a dry yellowed skeleton gripping a holoblaster.
Blowing off the crust of dust, he looked down on the old video cassette. A title had been scrawled on the faded sticker, but had long since been lost to time. All that remained was faint remains of some hurried pen strokes. The old black plastic slid gently into the reader. Flicking on the power switch, the cathode ray tube powered on and zapped static onto the convex screen. Black cast over the screen, followed by a brightly lit office. A large window overlooked dark mountains jutting up into a pale blue sky. In the foreground was a desk with scattered papers and objects. A nameplate rested on the right displaying Dr. S. Gates in embossed gold. A woman sat behind the desk, intently staring into the camera. Her lips were tight and her brow was wrinkled. Se inhaled and began.
I am Doctor Samantha Gates of Bremis corp. head of neurologic engineering and director of plowshare initiative. I am compiling this video record to provide future faculty of Bremis with as good an overview of our current situation as possible. This will only be distributed to anyone at my level or higher. So to my successor. I first want to start out with stating that we always had the best interest of humanity in mind. We were striving to benefit humanity, not—not end it. It is clear now that we were foolish, but foolishness isn’t malevolence. I think in order for you to take the best course of action henceforth, you need to understand how we came to this point. With that in mind, I need to start off with the advent of the titans.
After the Federation successfully established the Kuiper excavation project, we were brought out of the material drought. Because of this, the giant super cities were able to be constructed using extraterrestrial minerals. Overpopulation was quelled for a time, although while the construction grew up immensely, it spread out as well. There was room enough to live, but food was becoming a concern. Whole continents were used exclusively for farming, but the population just kept growing. At the same time, advances in neutron confinement allowed for sub-angstrom logic gates, enabling a quadrupling of computational power in a fortnight. Dr. Richard Benson was the first to develop the type-Alpha neuro-sim Artificial Intelligence using the human brain as a model. This solved the human machine interaction problem by erasing the distinction. This new generation of AIs were much less computationally powerful than their predecessors, but they possessed intelligent thought. This was a difficult change for many people to understand. Society had become accustom to the general AIs solving complex tasks and improving most aspects of their lives, but there was always a distinction between humans and AIs, but with the Hartley-Benson method, there was no neurological difference between the two.
Fredric Helmholtz, the former CEO of Bremis, recognized the potential of such a novel intelligence. Bremis was contracted by many governments for the development of largescale weaponry. They specialized in advanced sub-millimeter targeting computers and ship-to-shore artillery for long range combat. Helmholtz created the neurological engineering division of Bremis to meet the growing demands for powerful land-based weapons. He envisioned giant sentinels to silently guard the supercities. A weapon so horrible, it would end war, he wrote in his journal, it would be so devastating that offensive use would be out of the picture. He had hoped that the creation of impenetrable, intelligent, cyclopean monsters of incalculable power outfitted with the most advanced naval weaponry would be so terrible, that every government would need to continually buy them to make sure that in the event of an offensive battle, they would be able to destroy the other nations first. He immediately began the development of the first titan, Hyperion A, and within 36 months, he had a working prototype. With a high-ranking official from every major military power present, Helmholtz initiated the test. A mock city had been constructed out in the desert. Positioned a few kilometers away, the spectators watched as the Hyperion A destroyed the first building in an instant—a 60 story concrete structure ash within five seconds.
Helmholtz was right; the major world powers did buy the titans. However, they were used for other purposes. As Bremis profits rose, making Bremis the most powerful company in the world, tensions rose among the nations. Food had become scare, and a terrorist attack at one of the major grain refineries left billions of people without food. Quickly the situation grew out of hand.
I was the head of neurological engineering and was overseeing the construction of the Atlas heavy to supplement the existing Titans. The neuro-sim was being recalibrated to the various changes of Atlas form from previous titans. I received a notification to meet Helmholtz. Riding up the elevator, I stared out into the rain. It broke the numerous neon signs into a prismatic blur that cast the entire city into a dim red haze. I stared out to the extreme edge of the city to look on the cold metallic body of a Prometheus standing intently against the mountain side. His cool red eye scanned over the city. It stopped its sweep to rest on me. We stared at each other from across the city, until the elevator slipped up into the building. Helmholtz’s office was large and dark. No lights were on, save for the bath of red cascading in from the gigantic window at the far end. Helmholtz sat in his chair, intently staring as I entered the room. The pressed lapel of his black jacket rested tightly over his breast. He rose as I walked in and placed his hands on his desk as he leaned his weight onto his arms.
Gates, I assume you know why I called you here. He stated softly. I only nodded as I stood opposite to the desk. You know as well as I do that this tenuous peace is shaky and crumbling by the minute, he continued, my contacts in the military tell me that they’ve already moved three Hyperion Cs onto the border. We need to get out of here. This city will be one of the first to fall if war breaks out. You are the most important person in this company, and we cannot afford to lose you. I will be leaving tonight to go to the cybernetic augmentation laboratories. Those are far enough away from this mess that we can wait it out to pick up what pieces remain.
I stared at him, the dim red flowing in behind him, casting dark shadows across his sharp features. Yes, I began, I think that would be prudent, but isn’t there still a chance for conflict to be avoided?
No. It will happen. The only remaining question is whether or not this city will be here tomorrow. We don’t have much time to deliberate. We’re going to need you to reestablish Bremis after the smoke clears. The facility is well stocked and has myriad amenities. Think of this more as a forced vacation.
I stared at him. His eyes were cast in a long shadow with red tinges about the edges of his orbitals. He stood erect, readjusted his jacket and walked out from behind his imposing oak desk, his smooth black shoes tapping against the cold tile floor. This way, he stated as he marched passed me and towards the open door. I stood motionless, eyes fixed on the faint outline of the Prometheus against the stygian night sky, one solitary crimson eye slowly sweeping its titanic beam over the thin concrete protrusions into the rain filled air breaking its ruby light into a kaleidoscopic blur. The dim blueness of the night mingled with the thick red around the dismal stone faces of the buildings. I turned around and walked out of the office.
Turning around he found himself presented with a large empty hole gaping out into the chilled dry air. Beyond the dreary aperture the ancient skeletons rose from a dense grey forest, extending their rusted tendrils into the bleak sky. A singular machine rested on the mountain side, its decayed husk blinked in the lose sunlight. Motionless it laid, its cracked eye pointed dead into the sky, a window into its rotting interior.
The rain violently beat against the exterior lift as the elevator car drifted up to the highest level of the Bremis corp. facility. My eyes idly traced out the micro-grooves in the pattern tiled floor, following the intricate juts and starts as the cabin rose higher. When we finally reached the roof, the winds whipped violently as the metal doors slowly slid away revealing a lone transport powering up, its four dynamic pitch engines pointed down and against the wind, vaporizing the torrent of water flicking underneath the groaning engines. Helmholtz quickly scurried across the wet concrete roof to the craft. He extended his hand above his head to keep a fraction of the water off his now drenched body. I slowly followed behind him, watching his quick steps kick up water from his heels and splash back down into the thin film of liquid flowing across the roof. He climbed aboard first and slid into the second seat in the cabin, positioning himself against the starboard edge of the vehicle. Gripping the slippery handle with my hand, I hoisted myself into the transport and sat down next to him, staring back at the doorway as the doors slid closed and the car dropped down into the facility. The side door swung around and closed in the transport, muffling the mad cacophony of the storm until all that was audible was a low murmur from beyond the walls. The transport lifted away from the pad and lurched into the sky, leaving the firm ground behind as it darted away into the darkness.
Ash drifted up mixing with disturbed dust and danced gracefully about in thin vortices that formed and dissipated at the will of the air slowly moving through the room. An amber glow emanated from deep within the smoldering heap of blackened char and shriveled leather. The stale air fused with the dusty waves flowing from the pile. His chest slowly rose as his lungs expanded, drawing in the mixture of chemicals, saturating his pulsating blood with oxygen and toxins before his chest collapsed and expelled the air. Darkness invaded the room, filling its cold surfaces with cryptic shadows of daemonic figures cast by the jaunty features of broken items and wrecked buildings beyond the room. A pale face hung languidly above the earth, peacefully gliding along its celestial path, sending down pale envoys from its ashen surface.
He didn’t speak during the flight. His grey eyes stared intently out as we passed over the extremal edges of the city. The massive grey tenements rose dimly out of a smoky haze. Darkened metal lattices clung to their brutal stone surfaces. Autos would pass by underneath the haze in a reflective glow of orange fog.
The craft quickly attained the mountain, and as we passed over the lone sentinel, our craft was bathed in a ruby stream as it tracked us in our path. A deep guttural groan shook the plane as we darted away from the city. I turned and looked out of the aft viewing window. A single red eye stared intently towards me as it disappeared into the darkness. Its gigantic beam revolved away and swept over the city.
We arrived at the cybernetic augmentation laboratories after a few hours of flight. I had never been to the labs before. In fact, I had never even heard of them save for corporate rumors and other such rumblings. The government had put strict enforcement on biological modifications and having read a few of the national statutes, I didn’t think it would be legally possible to research it. Senator Ackley made his position clear when he stated that it was immoral, inhuman, and illegal. Much of our research was already curtailed and checked by overreaching public fears exacted through the government, but cybernetics was too taboo. I will admit, research into cybernetics had been going on legally for several decades, but that was tightly regulated and entirely for medical purposes. Bremis corp. is a defense contractor not a medical research organization; any cybernetics we do won’t be medicinal.
As we approached, I could only make out a small concrete surface jutting out the rocky cliff of a snow-tipped mountain and a large cylindrical pipe pumping out a constant plume of dark grey mist. The craft touched down on the landing pad and I began to unlatch my harness when Helmholtz placed his hand on my leg.
Not yet, he began as he pointed out through the frosty window. I observed the scenery to start moving up uniformly. It passed away and left a concrete shaft with several service doors and iron catwalks clinging to its stone face. We continued to move down until the scene opened up into a titanic cavern with giant machinery stretching four stories up and into the rocky ceiling. The lift chugged down an iron scaffold until it abruptly stopped at the base of the room. Helmholtz stood up and opened the door before I had a chance to unlatch myself. As I stepped down from the transport, Helmholtz was furtively discussing something with a short muscular man dressed in a military uniform. I approached them cautiously, but they quickly ceased what they were talking about. Helmholtz turned to me and forced his eyes to meet mine.
His voice was quiet but firm as he related, Gates, this is Lieutenant General Abrams. He is overseeing the execution of project Olympus. We will be able to discuss specifics at a later time, but for now we have other matters to attend to. Please, make your way to the living quarters on floor N6.
At this, he waved his hand to summon someone over. I turned around to see who Helmholtz introduced as Hector Velasquez. He nodded at me then turned around and began walking towards an egress shaft on the perimeter of the cavern.
Follow him, Helmholtz commanded as he stood motionless behind me.
The tower stood firmly against the chilled winds that fell unabated from the mountains and swept across the overgrown wreckage in the valley. Alone it stood for ages as a singular monument to a forgotten cult of immense power. The desolate monolith stood as an eternal testament to their once awesome might, but now only reflected their false hope and the vain endeavors of their folly.
Hector marched briskly down the labyrinthine halls and accessways forcing me to vigilantly track his sharp movements as I trotted alongside. As I was thus engaged, my mind wandered as to the current facility and to its purposes, although I exercised mental control by subduing my more conspiratorial conjectures and only allowing the known facts to possess my thoughts.
So much was occurring that night that I decided to distract my conscious brain in order to let my sub conscious deal with it. Hector seemed a decent quarry of my idleness. Observing his brass nametag, I marked that it lacked a Dr. leading me to conclude that he was an engineer of sorts seeing as his garb was not military. He was rather young for being an important enough person for Helmholtz to know him, being no more than 48 and without a grey in his head. Nepotism was my first thought although I couldn’t recall any of his ancestors’ faces immortalized in bronze on display in the atrium to Bremis corp. As such, I decided that he must be just an exceptional engineer—that or he had won Helmholtz fancy. His face was pointed away from my gaze blocking his finer details from inspection but his jawline was visibly covered in a thin layer of stubble suggesting to me that he was dealing with some important issues—it is the custom to either have a beard or shave it off; stubble reflects poorly on the wearer’s character. As I walked with this young important engineer, he made no attempts to converse and neglected to even look at me. His jaunty movements and abrupt direction changes led me to believe he thought me an inconvenience, which I understand based on what I knew about him.
We arrived at an industrial lift with space enough to fit about four autos. He stepped up onto the platform and turned around. His eyes were fixed forwards on some distant point in space or anywhere that wasn’t my face. I clambered up and stood next to him as he pulled down on a steel lever, lowering the platform into the concrete ground. The exposed black cables moved within their metal cages, slowly dropping us deeper. The elevator jolted to a stop and Hector leaped down a half meter to the floor. I looked down at him, who now stared at me, and blinked. His expression betrayed his annoyance as he stated, just press the switch down and it will drop down.
I followed his instruction and pressed the lever down, lowering the colossal platform to rest flush against the concrete floor. I stepped off and hustled to catch up with Hector as he had begun walking away before I had even pressed the lever. His footsteps echoed off of the blank stone walls creating the effect of an army marching more so than a solitary man. He stopped again causing me to bump into him and almost fall over. As I caught my balance, he pushed open a side door and stepped inside. Following him in, I was met with a much more pleasant aroma—more like lilacs than the diesel stench that permeated through the rest of the compound. The décor changed from indifferent machinery to inviting cloth and smooth tile. An old leather sofa was placed against a white wall presenting a small painting of a purple flower. A few bagels rested on an old wooden table against the opposing wall. I quickly scanned the room, observing a jubilant couple laughing in a corner.
Hector took no pause as he moved down the corridor and passed through a large metal portal leading into a row of beige doors numbered from a hundred-fifty-three to a number too far away for me to make out at the end of the long brightly lit hallway lined with exotic plants in terracotta jars.
Hector slid a key into one of the doors and proceeded to push the thin wooden ingress open as I walked up to him. He entered and left the door open for me to come in. I entered into a bright one room apartment with scant decorations save for a single painting of a purple flower against the far wall. It featured a grey sheeted bed abutted to a small grey sofa and a table lacking anything atop save for a half-eaten bagel and a napkin. The room lacked a kitchen, but I did guess that the only other door in the room led to a bathroom. Hector sat down on the sofa and picked up the bagel. Taking a bit out of it, he motioned for me to accompany him on the sofa. I walked towards him then swiveling in place went back to close the door before successfully sitting down beside him—who sat closer to the middle of the sofa, encroaching on my side, but I digress.
Kicking a remnant of the books out of the forsaken office, he traced its jagged path as it fluttered down into the blackness, disappearing into nothing. The static crackle of the faulty cathode ray tube provided a constant drone to fill the stale air with some semblance of activity. A frail voice projected out from the box as the screen displayed the weak form of the ancient hierophant. He dumbly waltzed to his bag and ruffled through its varied contents. Pulling out a small metal case, he sat down against the emptied shelf and flicked open the metallic latches, revealing a small apple wedge. His gaze fell on the flickering screen as he nibbled on the soft browning piece of fruit.
Fred tasked me with entertaining you while he deals with some other matters, Hector explained with an air of apathy. The room was drenched in silence, save for the rhythmic inspiratory rumbling of the air through our tracheae. I stared at the blank white wall, noting its lack of texture or anything mildly tactile about its surface. The smooth wall followed a dimming gradient into the sharp corner.
Turning to my companion I began, Hector—
Don’t call me that, he asserted while staring down at his bagel.
No one spoke for a few moments. My eyes floated blindly about the room crossing over everything save for his gaze.
I don’t know your name, he began after a time.
I’m Doctor Gates.
That’s quite formal, Doctor. Why did Fred bring you here?
I don’t really know.
You must be important for him to bring you here—indispensable to the company or something like that.
Perhaps.
What do you do, Doctor, Gates?
I am head of the neurological engineering division.
The Titans, eh?
That is under my division. As well as other need-to-know projects. You would be most familiar with that contract.
Most people are familiar with that contract. You should be proud; they’re about to demonstrate their full potential.
Yes.
I assume Fred is ecstatic about it. Regardless of how this pans out, Bremis will be very well known. The stock holders will be pleased—many of them are the men orchestrating this mess in the first place.
Yes.
And when tomorrow dawns, Bremis will be here shining our beacon to the remnants. Are you familiar with what we do here?
No. Helmholtz said it was the cybernetic labs, but I’m not intimately familiar with it.
We take the frail human form and make it less shitty. Take you for example; your body would violently disassociate if it were thrown from any significant height, but a titan could withstand a drop from orbit. Not to mock your neurological simulations, but they lack a certain level of intelligent that is expected of sentient creature. Humans have it, but as we’ve shown, they are frail creatures. So what we do here is combine the form of the Titans with the essence of humans.
That’s quite a statement, but isn’t it fully illegal?
Irrelevant—or rather it will be shortly. The research done here will usher in a new era of humanity. Finally, after centuries of looking up at the stars, we will be able to reach out and touch them. Titans are too incredibly stupid to make any meaningful scientific investigation, but humans are too weak. Of course, the majority of project Olympus is funded for non-scientific purposes. When future historians look back at Bremis, they won’t remember what we did to humans; they will remember what we did for humanity.
That’s one opinion.
Perhaps. Perhaps we shall be vilified by the eternal creatures we created. Is it just for them to curse their creators?
When you murder them?
Not us. The blood isn’t on our hands. We simply forge the swords; it is on the politicians to wield them.
The blood stains your blades. Isn’t that enough?
No. We didn’t make them bloody.
But there couldn’t be blood without your swords.
Perhaps. But if my memory serves, you created the Titans, not I.
Yes.
So if anyone is responsible for this, it is you.
One could say that. Although it is more mentally prudent to focus on the positives of the Titans, then to focus on the negatives.
What could be a benefit to having immensely large mechanicals horrors of destruction?
When you say it that way.
What other way is there to say it? At least Olympus has a benefit to humanity and even its bad aspects aren’t on such a titanic scale.
Heh. Yes. As you say; I simply forged the sword.
If modern weapons were swords, you created a bomb. That’s the scale.
My research was in neuro-sims and largescale automation. I had envisioned my work being applied to agriculture, but Bremis offered me a job I couldn’t turn down. It hadn’t occurred to me to but the neuro-sims into war machines, but that’s what’s profitable.
Was the size necessary though?
This is highly controlled knowledge, so I’m not really allowed to discuss it.
Was it? The smallest Hyperion Class Titan is still three stories tall.
The reactors required to operate the neuro-sims are large. At the university, we had an entire hydroelectric dam in service to running Zero.
One could say that, but we both know that reactor isn’t solely for the neuro-sims—a plasma cannon takes a lot of energy, too.
I wasn’t involved in the construction of the armaments.
But you were involved in the training of the neuro-sims to use them.
Yes. God, is your idea of entertaining a person blaming them for genocide?
Not always.
At this the conversation stopped. I straightened my back and crossed my arms on my lap as I turned my head to face the door. I couldn’t see Velasquez, but his shifting in his seat created an audible ruffling sound that echoed off of the smooth walls.
Sliding the cold metal box back into his bag, the figure stood straight up and glanced dimly out into the abrasive world. Luna shown down weak blue beams that cast the world in aethereal azure glow. He marked a faint red luminance emanating from the decayed husk of the ancient Titan strewn against the mountain ridge. Barely visible being chocked out by the oppressive moonlight, a small crimson beacon held steady from inside the dead machine. His eyes stayed over the diminutive light as he stepped closer to the gaping hole. Placing his right arm against the frame, he observed the shell. Nothing moved and besides the whispering charlatan in the cassette nothing made a sound.
After an oppressively long time in destitute silence, the door swung slowly open and Helmholtz entered carrying a suitcase in his tightly gripped hand. He stopped a small distance from the couch and inspected us intently. What did you do, he inquired after a time. Hector responded that we were tired or some such noncommittal answer before he stood up and walked to Helmholtz’s side and whispered something inaudible into his ear. Helmholtz nodded slowly then walked to the other side of the table facing me.
Gates, I think I should explain what we do here before I get to why I brought you. This the cybernetic augmentation laboratories and research facility. This is the seat of project Olympus. While are Neurological we blur the line between machines and brains, here we blur the line between machines and humans. This facility was constructed several years ago to meet the growing demand for super-soldats, biologically enhanced soldiers with capabilities beyond what a lowly human body can accomplish. At first, we attempted to synthesize DNA to correct flaws in biological specimen. This was a laborious and unsuccessful task that drained funding. With the advent of the Titans, it became clear to us that instead of fixing the human body, it would just be easier to affix a titan to a human. The first neuro-motor coupling was constructed and from there, it was only a matter of what we felt like building. I will give you a tour sometime, but not tonight. We have all ready outfitted hundreds of volunteers with modifications. Mostly they are military augmentations that serve little purpose here, but we need to test them on humans. I say volunteer, but if I were to tell you it’s either off with your arm or off with your head, which would you pick?
The Titans were nice, but unfortunately in the following weeks no one will want to buy them anymore. The age of Titans is coming to an end, but with its dusk dawns Olympus.
He said his valedictions and walked out of the room. Hector began to follow, but before he had attained the door it was slammed tight. He jumped, stuttering backwards before he turned to me. With a weak smile on his face he said something quick then marched to the grey bed. Throwing himself onto the sheets, he lay face down.
I stood up and walked halfway to the door before I heard him state in a muffled voice, He doesn’t want to you to wander around. I turned around as Velasquez rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He began again, he doesn’t want you to go anywhere without a chaperon for now. And before you ask, I don’t know why.
I inquired, so am I to just stay with you here?
Perhaps.
What is there to do?
We could continue our previous discussion, he stated as he propped himself up on his elbows.
No, thank you.
He collapsed back into the soft bed covering. After a while he began again in a disinterested tone, I don’t want to go out anywhere.
Well I do.
Fred said you had to stay with me, not that I had to stay with you. Just read a book or something
Where are any books?
I don’t know. Did you bring any?
No. Helmholtz made me leave directly from Bremis without even going back to my office.
That’s too bad. Just go to sleep over there.
I’m not tired.
Too bad. I’m going to bed. I’m sure we have a busy day tomorrow.
I walked over the sofa and pulled up the plush cushions. Throwing the pile against the far wall, I laid down on the haphazard mess of pillows and fabric as I closed my heavy eyes.
The incessant noise spewing from the daemonic prophet salivated mouth upset his quiet temperament. Through squinted eyes, he watched the priestess spit her false truths and broken histories through the static screen. His mind grew tired as pale Luna crossed its arc above the zenith, while eyes burned from the corrupting blue light emanating from the box.
The next day I was ushered to the top floor of the facility. Hushed whispers echoed from the hurrying employees creating a hectic buzz as I made my way to Helmholtz’s office. The elevator terminated at the top of its metal shaft and as the doors slowly slid away I was presented with a long dimly lit hallway decorated with only a few steel pipes running the length of the walkway. I approached the large double doors at the extremal end of the hallway. Velasquez stayed in the elevator and quickly descended once I had gotten off. Alone, I stepped cautiously forwards, my steps echoing off the blank walls.
Helmholtz stood up as I walked into the spacious office. The large window behind his desk let in ample light from the mountain scene beyond its clear pane. I noted his obvious taste in design, as this office was strikingly similar to his other.
Gates, he began, things aren’t going well in the world. I don’t want to distract you with superfluous details, but if you’ve noticed some excitement that is the cause. Regardless, we still have a job to do. Project Olympus isn’t why you are here—that is well managed and fully operational. However, there is another reason why I brought you here besides the ostensible corporate responsibility. It would be best to explain it when you see it.
He turned and walked to an ornate painting depicting a stylized titan overlooking a sunset. Back to me, he punched a code into an obscured key pad before the painting swung open, revealing a narrow passage way leading into darkness.
This is my personal project, he began as he stepped into the corridor.
At the end of the dark hallway, an elevator waited clinging to a sleek steel scaffolding. He looked at me while the lift started to descend. I averted my gaze, but I noted that his eyes were fixed on me, statically observing my face as the elevator drifted down into his secret room.
As we neared the bottom, the shaft opened up into a large dimly lit cavern. A few halogen torches illuminated a metal rigging stretching from the elevator to a point in the center of the room. A form of something was scarcely visible in the far end of the cave, but due to the jaunty rocks and sharp shadows, its exact shape was impossible to ascertain. I stepped off onto the metallic grate crating a reverberation that shook the entire platform. Helmholtz marched along the path and up to the center platform where he stood staring up into the black face of some obscured creation.
Gates, this is the future, he started in a reverent tone. This is what we will be remembered for. You remember what I said before about blurring the human machine distinction. Well, and pardon the dramatics—the engineers must have turned off the spotlights for some reason.
At this he pulled a lever and the giant circular bulbs exploded in irradiance blinding me as they bathed the creation in yellow light. As I recovered my vision, I beheld the terribly human form of a new Titan. The beast stood hunched on two colossal legs featuring three pointed toes gripping into the rock. The torso was sturdy and even the hull was designed to resemble the musculature of a man. Its arms didn’t have any built-in armaments but terminated in gargantuan claws that mimicked a hand’s form save for the three aquiline talons. The head sat lower on its torso than it should and had a single red eye surrounded with smaller protrusions, metal fittings, grates, and pipes. Iron scaffolds hung from the roof leading to the under construction left arm, having its hull removed exposing the pneumatic tubing, pistons, contractile cables, and servos all mixed with a mess of tangled wires and pipes. The head, too, was still being constructed but its titanic eye, fixed on me, was fully installed.
Gods, I exclaimed as I wrapped my arm around the railing.
Helmholtz turned to me, a sick simile smeared across his face. You, my dearest Samantha, he began erratically, will put me into that. He shot his finger to point up at the gigantic machine.
I couldn’t bring my mouth to form any words; all I could do was shake my head and stumble back from him as he stared, wide-eyed, at me.
Gates, pardon my—err—outburst, he stated as he adjusted his tie. I am just rather excited about this endeavor.
His eyes fell back into his orbit and his tight lips resumed their hold on his teeth.
Picking myself up, I began, what do you mean, Helmholtz? Did you put a cockpit in it or something? How am I to help you get in that—thing?
You misunderstand me, Gates. I wish not to physically be in the titan, but instead I am to be cerebrally in the titan. It boasts the latest in Hartley-Benson neurological-simulation technology, but I require a certain bridge to attain what I desire.
—What do you mean?
I mean, that I need you to put my brain into the device.
It doesn’t work that way. It is impossible.
Make it work that way. Impossible is not a word I understand. Impossible is accepting death and failure. I will not.
It has never been done. Martin Rockford attempted a similar feat but only ended up with a malfunctioning neuro-sim and a skewered brain.
Don’t mention Galvanis Inc. in my presence. Those liars and cheats.
I can’t—its unethical.
Unethical? When did we ever mention ethics? If I cared about such archaic social systems, would we have attained anywhere near the level of progress we have? Look at that: my greatest creation, the most advanced titan ever conceived, the first Menoetius class Titan, an eternal vessel for my intelligence. I will slip the weak bonds of my flesh prison and attain immortality. You will promote me from darkness to eternal light. Please, Gates, you are the only one to save me. I haven’t told a single person at Bremis—gods forbid the board hear this—but I am afflicted with a horrible consumptive disease. My body is decaying with my mind trapped inside—I need to ascend to this new form.
Helmholtz—
Please, call me Fredric.
Frederic—
Actually, just stay with Helmholtz—Frederic sounds intolerable coming from you.
I want to help you, but I have never done anything like this.
You modelled the Polus neuro-sim off of a canine brain.
That is true, but the structure is much simpler. A human brain would require several years of development and trials—
We have only a few weeks.
Helmholtz, it’s just not possible.
Stop! I demand you refrain from such false words. Nothing is impossible. Just get to work. I’m sure you’ll find your new lab satisfactory.
I will try, but there is a lot of ground work I haven’t covered. I can’t just start developing a prototype; I need preliminary trials and base research.
Would it make your job easier if you had access to the Galvanis reports?
Yes. If you had it.
I do. They are in the lab—as well as a few of the engineers who worked on Rockford’s team. Rockford, however, is still in a jar at Galvanis—unfortunately his tattered shreds of grey matter will afford little assistance now.
That’s in bad taste, but I will start working right away. Where is the lab?
That way. Again, I apologize for my outburst, but you can understand my emotions in this situation.
The lab was well stocked with familiar equipment and novel devices assumingly from Galvanis. Atop the central table sat a holographic projection plane displaying a slowly revolving human brain separated into various subsystems and cortices. One wall was obscured by large data cabinets showing their magnetic tape as it swung around its intricate wheel system. Several black plastic crates sat about the room, displaying the Galvins logo marked with a yellow tag. The halogen tubular bulbs flickered incessantly filling the stale air with an electric buzz. Sitting idly on a swiveling chair, an engineer looked up at me as I walked into the room. He stood up and greeted me as Nealson, a neurological engineer formerly of Galvins advanced AI research. No one else was in the lab, although I marked several dim recesses about the area.
I assume you know why we are here, I said as I sat down on the plush seat of a chair.
To continue Rockford’s research, I believe. Your boss was quite vague, but then again, he really didn’t need to convince us—the rifles did that.
Yes, but I fear we have a herculean task before us.
Not quite. You think our project failed, right? That’s what most people know.
Didn’t it? I heard Rockford was eviscerated in an early trial and the resulting neuro-sim didn’t work at all.
That’s what Galvanis wanted you to think. Believe me, it was far from successful, but corporate branded it as an absolute blunder. If Bremis knew what we accomplished, they would likely have abducted us—which seems to be what they did anyway—but the vulgate would not have reacted favorably to knowing a human brain operated inside a machine. I’m sure you are familiar with how obstinate they are.
Did it work?
I would say so. I inherited the project after Rockford’s untimely death, and after recalibrating the cerebellum-interface, Marty—the neuro-sim—actually functioned. It possessed some memories from Rockford’s life—certain childhood events, his grandfather, the university, mostly emotional events, which is understandable—but its intelligence was clouded. It had lost many seemingly random abilities, such as knowledge of the letters R, K, and F, human face recognition, temporal reasoning, and weakened memory allocation. It could develop some long-term memories, but in the short term, it was shaky. Additionally, it expressed constant debilitating pain referred across the entire body. It’s incorporeal, save for a speech-impulse device, light sensor, and acoustic sensor, so the pain was artifact.
That’s promising.
Indeed. Galvanis had more resources at their disposal for this, but we will make due. I hear you’re the mother of Titans.
Yes. I am head of the department that constructed them. I was principal in the neuro-sim refinement to work with ambulatory structures like titans, and for other developments involved with them.
That’s impressive. What is your opinion on their current employment, if you don’t mind my asking.
I do.
That’s expected. I figure you’ll be helpful to my research here.
Your research?
Yes. This is my project. I was engaged in this work for several years now. I was with Rockford when we developed the first cerebral exchange interface for neuro-sim-enhanced prosthetics. You think that this is yours? I’m sorry, but we’re aren’t building war-machines here.
That’s fair.
Fair? No. It is the only possibility.
When do we begin?
We started months ago. My assistants are on break presently, but we should recommence in a few hours. I will go over what I expect from you in the interim.
Okay.
We worked in this manner for several weeks hidden deep within the bowels of the research complex, scurrying through access tunnels to develop our unhallowed quarry. Helmholtz continually visited the secret lab, spending long hours staring at the titanium form of his personal vessel.
I visited Helmholtz a week after I began working on the cerebralvasculum. His personal chamber was moderately decorated with a simple metal frame bed and a dark wood table set with a half-eaten banana resting directly on its surface. He was employed in dressing as I pushed open the door and stepped in. I had knocked but he responded to come in. Knobby bones protruded through the thin film of skin stretched over his decaying body. His outstretched arm was a multi-segmented metallic cylinder joined at the elbow to another cylinder of equal radius ultimately adjoined to his body by a titanium platform mounted directly to his bones through his flesh. Black wires extended from his spine and externally down his arm, breaking off to go under the metal in several spots, until terminating at a complex five fingered hand with metallic three segment fingers that bent as they gripped around his shirt, pulling it off of the hanger. His pale back was supplemented by a thin white exoskeleton that dug into his spine at every vertebra, having a black sheath between each metal node. The silent whirring of its servos accompanied the horrid retractions of his barely covered muscles that writhed beneath his tissue-like flesh. Both arms were thus mechanical and reflected bilateral symmetry about his twisting spine. As he stood up, I observed the mechanical form of his legs, almost identical to his arms. The flesh around his pelvis was more twisted as several more titanium shunts were affixed directly to bone supporting the leg mounting platform. His lumbar was surrounded by an electro-elastic band to assumingly help supplement his atrophied abdominal muscles right his posture. He turned around to reveal the ventral aspect of his torso. A transparent tube shunted a dark red fluid out from the lateral side of his neck, transporting it to a metallic box set into an artificial depression on his chest. The box had more tubes that combined before attaching directly to the right side. Another tube sprouting from its left side carried a bright ruby liquid branching into several more channels before slipping back under the veil of flesh, continuing its journey as a visible form under the skin. From hi navel came a dark grey duct that terminated in a semi-transparent yellow-green filled bladder strapped to his side. Around his tattered shards of genitals, were the anterior mounting struts for his legs that protruded out from the bone.
His stolid face gave no intimation as to the mess his body was. Ah, Gates, he said with a minute smile on his pale lips, I see you got my invitation. Looking down at the enigmatic form of his decrepit body, he frowned then averted his grey eyes to inspect the finer details of the purple flower painting hanging on his wall.
Yes, it looks horrid, he stated monotonously, but project Olympus is quite the miracle. If we weren’t a defense contractor, we could dominate the medicinal industry. I apologize for this scene, but I am rather accustomed to it by now and I forget how it must appear to fresh eyes.
He continued to dress himself as he spoke.
You see, despite these replacements, my body still persists in decomposing while I am yet alive. It is only a matter of time until my central nervous system collapses like my extremities. I certainly hope, though, that when I sever my spine and toss it to the dogs, that I do so whilst residing in Menoetius. I have tracked your progress, so there is no need to catch me up.
Okay.
You must tell me though, is what I’m doing morally repugnant?
What part?
Oh, the whole ordeal.
I am not a philosopher.
Please be serious. I feel as though my situation has brought me too close to fully appreciate what I am doing.
I don’t really know. I would have to say that in regards to the titans, I am in your seat as well.
Is that so? I guess you would feel a special connection with them.
I don’t think of them as children, but I cannot just think of them as machines either. There is something—something different.
Yes. But certainly we can see if we are making the right decision; wouldn’t you agree?
I feel no regret for making the titans, but my university research was for peaceful application. The trial managed agricultural systems, not naval artillery.
I suppose that was remiss of me to thus divert your creation. It would never have matured from a fledging had I not intervened, though. Maybe someday they can be who you envisioned.
Maybe. Are you not afraid of what the governments will do to you when you become the titan?
No. If I escape death, there will be nothing left that scares me. I cannot think of the future without feeling a sinking indifference to consequences. If I die, then I don’t care what happens, but if I live, then I can shape the world to what I will. It is a pity that such great minds before me are left in dust. They cannot enjoy the world they created? What injustice.
But we remember.
But they don’t. What do I experience? Only that which I experience. Anything else is—is vapor. With death, all is vapor and a breath into the wind. Why even Alexander is turned to clay. What remains of Caesar? Dust. After death do we go to heaven or to hell? Irrelevant. For in the mind, it can make heaven a hell, and hell a heaven; but the true torment is the lack of mind. There is no hell, save for no is. All this? The magnificent empire that I constructed? And for what? For me to pass away and leave it as a pillar of ash, a frail monument to my once great power? No. I reject fate. I will ascend to my seat in paradise, but I will construct my paradise.
Maybe you are too close to see what you are doing?
Perhaps. I have been wrestling with my brain for some time now. My thoughts are the only things that matter to me anymore. I don’t express my thoughts to anyone, so maybe they are a bit under developed. I don’t know.
I think I understand what you mean.
I’m sure I will be able to get a better perspective once imminent death is no longer plaguing me.
We are close.
I know you are—but so is death.
After a pause he began again, as to why I called you in in the first place; I want to ask if you will take over Bremis if the transition is unsuccessful. Actually, despite the results, the board won’t allow a titan to head the company.
I don’t have experience running a company. Aberley would be better suited. She has been managerial for much longer than I’ve even worked for Bremis.
No. I want you to do it. You possess the necessary requirements. Aberley is quite good, but she is good at running Bremis for what it is. You can see what it can be. There is no doubt in my mind that in a few months defense contracting will be far less lucrative. We have exploited that market for as much as it has. Aberley would continue to make Bremis the best contractor and we would survive—even thrive—until the blights of war are forgotten and the hawks circle again. I did all I can, but we cannot continue down this path.
I—
Don’t respond. I will submit my formal request tonight and it will be on you to reject if it’s your will.
He finished looping his shoelace and pulled the ends tight leaving a well-formed knot resting flush against the stiff leather tongue of his black shoe. Looking up he smiled, his yellowed teeth forming a reassuring row of enamel. I nodded as I slowly retreated from the room, staring into his shadowed orbitals.
The dark silhouette of his hand eclipsed the azure screen, blocking out the hunched arcane presbyter. He slowly articulated each joint noting the subtle curves and paths the digits traced as they contracted and relaxed. The buzz of the servos provided a reassuring familiar sound that calmed his mind. The ancient sphere looked down on him with its tender light cascading down through the attenuating air illuminating his small platform suspended in the air on the titanic stone trunk of the forsaken altar. He sat in the mercy seat of the structure, projected out into the air at the top of the vile temple.
The night of ascension had arrived and I spent the morning expelling my portion of fruit into the ceramic plumbing. The cerebralvasculum was successfully perfected and only awaited a humble disciple to fulfill its purpose. Nealson was proudly delivering a speech to the sparse attendance, marking the striking progress of humanity and his invaluable role in ushering in a new age. Rockford’s name was never mentioned as he flicked promise and praise from his tongue. I stood in the back, sitting against a stone protrusion onto the scaffold. The air was still with a vague hint of static permeating through the chilled medium. Helmholtz stood erect at the side of Nealson, the surgical chair visible behind them displaying its medieval wares and archaic medical tools. The cerebral scanner also sat behind them, silently throbbing with a pulsating red glow from within its seamless titanium shell.
At the conclusion of his speech, Nealson led Helmholtz to the chair where he was tightly bound at his appendages and neck with metallic clamps and elastic cuffs. The straight mouth of Helmholtz did not deviate from linear as the saw began its circular path around his occipital. I watched as his eyes closed and his mind went still under the influence of the dugs he had taken. The spinning blade traced out its mathematical arc as it severed the bone from his shaven head. At its conclusion, Nealson removed the saw and pulled the skull, exposing Helmholtz’s soft grey brain. The cerebrospinal fluid spilled over from the freshly cut opening, dripping down Helmholtz cold head and pooling in his ear and neck. Nealson carefully removed the brain with the assistance of a machine. Presenting the dripping mass to the audience as a gladiator would a severed head of his quarry to the cheering vulgate, he placed the squishy form into the large square device next to him. The machine pulsated with a deep red light as it let out a chilling screech. I knew to expect this—I had helped develop the machine after all—but something intangible about this scene affected my temperament. After several minutes of guttural shrieks, the machine was silent. Nealson stepped back to be on the main platform, as some of his medical staff began to place the brain back in Helmholtz adulterated human body. As they reattached the spinal cord and arteries, I watched as the reactors powered on. A crimson light poured out from the interior of the craft. Nelson slowly manipulated the floodlights, dimming the cavern as the beast grew brighter. Its ruby light bent off of the hard rocks, creating daemonic shadows on the walls that danced as the motors began to make the vessel operational. Steam flooded from its exhaust vents, drenching the room in a sanguine haze.
The white-coated medical staff electrified Helmholtz’s weak form to restart the vital processes, surging life back into his decayed body. His eyes reopened and they scanned over us with a cool composure.
Victor, he began weakly as the surgeons placed the first staple into his skull to reattach the bone, is it done? Am I immortal yet?
Nealson looked at his tired eyes. No, you are the dying intelligence, but if you look behind you, you will see the eternal intelligence.
The surgeons rotated the chair to put Helmholtz facing the spurring up machine whose empty eye did not yet glow. Staring at the lose flesh being pulled over his skull to be stapled on the other side, I averted my attention from the titan to the human. Soon the surgeons stepped away and unfastened his binding. He hobbled out of the chair to stand at eye level with the giant creature.
Frederic, he started softly, it is I, you. Welcome again to the world, my dearest self. You shall outlive me I am afraid—and soon, too. I know you know all this. We are after all the same, only having diverged moments ago. Can you hear me? Can you understand your voice? Frederic?
A deep vibration emanated from within the machine, shaking the cave and knocking me down onto the swaying platform. From the cold metal grate, I stared up at Helmholtz. His frail form hunched before the titanic eye. As he stepped closer, a faint orange spark began to form within the magnificent disk. It exploded in a great red light, bathing the room in its massive power, the silhouette of Helmholtz standing before it, eclipsing the ruby eye with the form of man. He reached his arm out to the creature, extending the shaking metal cylinder towards the cyclopean monster who slowly began to extend its form and expand its size. Fully constructed now, its dark grey plates absorbed the red light, while its silver detailing over-reflected the crimson rays. The massive body stood with an impressive might. Helmholtz’s thin pale face directly opposed the singular eye of his mechanilogical twin. In a long graceful arc, the machine moved its hand towards Helmholtz, its talon extended to match Helmholtz’s stretched finger. For a brief moment before the two touched, I squinted into the blinding blaze, marking the dark form of creation languidly reaching for the eager hand of its creator.
The beast jerked and in one fluid motion, it captured Helmholtz’s limp body in its claw, locking him tightly in its grasp. The panicked cry forced out from his lungs rung in my ear continually as I witnessed the talons pulverize his figure, blue sparks leaping from the devastated form as crimson blood spurted from the ruptured vessels. The claw quickly moved away from the central body before releasing its mutilated contents on its ballistic journey to the hard wall obscured in thick shadow. A bright blue pop emanated from the wall as his batteries ruptured. Staring into the unabated red circle that now swept across the scaffolding, I felt the whole brutal force of the eye staring into me.
My feet barely sustained my frantic exit as I sprinted down into the labyrinth of access tunnels leading from the lab to the main facility. My blood rushed vigorously through the constricting arteries as my heart beat violently within my chest. I barely remember what occurred next. I somehow made my way through the factory level and ultimately up to the hanger. Helmholtz’s private transport remained untouched from when we had arrived. I madly entered the craft as its pilot quickly approached the vehicle. In my breathless voice, I managed to convey my desire to leave, and despite his protest, I stated my rank and he abdicated the argument.
The thin engines powered up and began pumping out thrust as we quickly ascended up the concrete shaft to the landing pad. The craft lurched up and shakily attained the air, which swept in violent current off of the colossal mountain. I stared back at the facility, marking the overall lack of disturbance to the peaceful mountain side, save for the diminutive lading pad, and horizontal pipe puffing out vapor—which now glowed with an aetherial red tinge which increased in strength as the vessel drifted higher into the clouds. My hands pressed against the aft viewport, I stared down at the faintly smoldering crimson pipe.
He reached his mechanical hand forwards to lightly depress the eject button with the textured tactile pad on his index finger. The screen shot in from the edges as the oracle shrunk into the black center of the screen, popping with a violent blue light that covered the room in a quick flash of azure, casting the smooth curves of the figure against the sharp edges of the bookcase and objects piled against the wall. He grabbed the black cassette as it slid out of the slot, holding it by his hip as he stood up. His eyes moved up from the gaussed black screen to the dull shell of the titan resting on the mountain side. The fridges of his coat flowed gently in the weak wind circling through the room. He stared out across the valley to observe the faintly glowing red circle that now pointed its cracked lens at him. The figure walked slowly to the concrete aperture. His eyes squinted to observe the smoldering glow from within its titanic eye as the pale blue sphere floated down to rest above the decayed husk of the titan, sending its weakened rays out over the reflective covering of the rusted shell.
