The Life Engineered Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE LIFE ENGINEERED

  “Tired of stories of humanity fighting against robot overlords? Read one for the robots. A fascinating investigation of whether even creatures we created could avoid our own foibles and fates.”

  —Veronica Belmont and Tom Merritt of Sword & Laser

  “J-F. Dubeau’s The Life Engineered is a real page-turner for anyone interested in science fiction and good literature. It brought a smile to my face as some passages made me reminisce of my own time spent aboard Galactica as a Raptor pilot!”

  —Leah Cairns, Battlestar Galactica and Interstellar

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2016 J-F. Dubeau

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Inkshares, Inc., San Francisco, California, as part of the Sword & Laser Collection

  www.inkshares.com

  Edited and designed by Girl Friday Productions

  www.girlfridayproductions.com

  Cover design by Elsie Lyons

  Cover illustration by Eric Belisle

  ISBN: 978-1-941758-59-5

  e-ISBN: 978-1-941758-60-1

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2015944027

  First edition

  For my family. By blood or ceremony.

  Contents

  Dawn of End

  Essence 262 010, Iteration 1 977, Final Cycle

  Rebirth. End Cycle

  Ragnarok

  The Spear of Athena

  Babylon

  Olympus—High Orbit Above Tartarus

  Return to Babylon

  Rescue

  The Sacrifices of Gods

  Demeter Rising

  Aztlan, High Orbit Above Tecuciztecatl

  Comet 3598-g76, Interplanetary Space

  The Gods We Made

  Conclusion

  Glossary

  Acknowledgments

  About The Author

  A preview of the sequel to The Life Engineered:

  Lists of Patrons

  Inkshares

  DAWN OF END

  AD 3594

  At first, nothing happened. The pinprick of light simply twinkled in the dark, vaguely shimmering on the large monitor. It was a moment before a small flare became visible, quickly followed by a rapidly expanding but almost imperceptible sphere of light. Finally, two hair-thin beams flashed briefly from diametrically opposite points of the distant star.

  “There,” a woman said with but a hint of tremor in her voice. “You’ll see it better in the gamma range.”

  Instantly, the monitor switched to the specified spectrum in response to her comment, the image changing to a version of itself that resembled an impressionist’s interpretation of the night sky. Waves of luminous colors, ranging from pink to dark indigo, emanated from the now brightly glowing sun. The scene repeated itself, but this time the expanding sphere of light was blinding, washing out the monitor in incandescent white. The image had barely toned back down and become visible again when the beams manifested as brilliant shafts of red that bisected the frame. Then the monitor switched back to the normal visible spectrum—a shimmering white dot on a blanket of black.

  The lights in the nearly empty auditorium were slowly brought back to life, gently bathing the room in a soft-blue glow. The woman got up first, wiping her hands on the sides of her tunic, leaving hand-shaped sweat stains that disappeared almost instantly. She turned nervously around to look at her companion, who was casually leaning back in his chair.

  “The gamma ray burst from that one will destroy Persea’s biosphere within the year,” she explained.

  “They’ll all be in stasis long before that,” the man said calmly, inspecting his impeccably trimmed beard with the back of his hand.

  “But that will leave only us, Gareth.”

  The man shrugged before pulling himself laboriously to his feet. He brushed the wrinkles out of his pants, frowning at the damage that prolonged sitting had done to their pressed folds.

  “We’ll be fine. The closest star that could generate that kind of gamma burst could erupt tomorrow and we wouldn’t feel the effects for another five years.” His tone was both reassuring and condescending. “Most of us have already moved to the Dormitory. By this time next year, we’ll all be safely tucked away.”

  “Being taken care of by robots,” she complained.

  “I resent that,” interjected a third and last audience member.

  The creature unfolded from its chair. Its thin, elegant limbs deployed from its slender, shining body. Minuscule servos whirled almost imperceptibly, animating the synthetic being. It turned its gleaming head, a semitransparent polished dome protecting an array of sensory equipment, to face its human counterparts.

  “It will be our honor and privilege to be your caretakers and stewards of this galaxy until it is properly healed,” the creature explained.

  “My apologies, Marduk. That came out wrong,” the woman said. “This . . . hiatus is keeping you and your kind from your destiny.”

  “Our destiny can wait, Adelaïde, and this hiatus as you call it will not be so bad,” the robot said. “Tending the Dormitories can be handled by nonsentient automatons, and rebuilding biospheres will be an engrossing project for many of our more creative-minded people.”

  “Nothing is stopping you from moving ahead with your own societies, Marduk,” added Gareth. “It’s probably better that the Dormitories be left alone anyway. Go forth. Build. Create. Make us proud.”

  Gareth broke into a warm smile—a rare sign of emotion on his part. His fondness for the synthetic children of humanity was clearly etched on his features. Marduk bowed politely before standing to his full height, nearing three meters tall.

  “Many thanks. Our plans are already in motion. I think you’ll be impressed by what you find when we next meet.”

  Both humans bowed their heads politely. They watched as the strange creature of alloy and metal strode purposefully toward the door and bent down slightly to exit the auditorium. With its sensor array hidden under its smooth dome, it was impossible to tell if the robot had looked back at its biological companions.

  “I don’t trust them,” Adelaïde said after she was certain the artificial creature could not hear her.

  “The Capeks?” asked Gareth with barely hidden disbelief. “They’re completely loyal and don’t have an evil bone in their bodies.”

  “They don’t have bones at all.”

  “Don’t split hairs, Adelaïde. We could not be in better hands,” he said. “Without Ascension, never could we even hope to reach the purity they embody.”

  “You put them on a pedestal. They’re no longer the faithful dogs our ancestors made them to be. They’ve grown. They’ve evolved. I’m . . . I’m as proud as you are! I am, but this destiny you speak of, they speak of, there’s a hunger for it that doesn’t leave room for us.”

  “Given time we won’t need room anymore. Ascension will take care of that.” Gareth had a gleam in his eye of almostchildlike excitement. “The universe creates God. After that the Capeks can inherit the galaxy and work toward their own goals. Ours will be fulfilled.”

  Adelaïde looked back toward the monitor that dominated the front of the auditorium. Reacting to her unspoken intentions, the screen blinked to life and displayed the white dot over the black sky again. As she stared, the image zoomed out, displaying an ever-growing number of stars. A red
circle appeared over the original pinprick of light, and soon another, then a third, and so forth. After a moment the entire Milky Way galaxy was on-screen, sprinkled with dozens of red, pulsing circles, singling out a list of systems.

  “Fifty-one high-intensity gamma ray bursts, all within the last five decades, all targeting our inhabitable worlds,” Adelaïde explained. “Our homes have been systematically obliterated, Gareth. Who’s doing this to us?”

  “It’s not the Capeks, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “Who else is there?” Adelaïde couldn’t keep her fear and frustration hidden anymore. “We are putting ourselves at the mercy of the only possible suspects, and no one is talking about it. Everyone pretends this is a natural phenomenon—a coincidence!”

  “Adelaïde. All you have to go on is opportunity, ignoring motive and, more importantly, the means. The Capeks, for all their wonders, are no more advanced than we are. They don’t have the technology to orchestrate astronomical events of that scale. No one does. As for motives—Capeks are our children! They owe as much, if not more, to us as we do to them.”

  “We’re blindly stepping onto the gallows. Even if the chance that they mean us harm is remote, shouldn’t we do something to protect ourselves? Just in case?”

  For the first time Gareth seemed to be taking her comments seriously. He motioned for her to go on.

  “Marduk and others like him don’t worry me, but there are hundreds of Capeks, each with its own unique and complex personality. What if even a single one of them developed resentment toward us? It wouldn’t take much for them to eradicate humanity if that was the case.”

  Gareth sighed and smiled, making it clear that while he was humoring her, he did not share her worries. Shaking his head slowly, he gave Adelaïde another condescending look.

  “Fine. Let’s assume the impossible. What do you have in mind?”

  Adelaïde turned back to the monitor, willing it to life once more through a combination of subvocalization and eye movement. A handful of blue dots manifested themselves on the galactic map, each with a name inscribed next to it.

  “This current generation of Capeks is coming to an end,” she began with confidence, pointing at the blue dots in succession. “These are the sites where the Gaia-generation Capeks are being assembled. Each is built from a composite mind that I know and trust. Individuals of impeccable character. Beyond reproach.”

  “The very reason they were chosen for the task, yes.”

  “Exactly. If Marduk suggests that our caretakers can be automated, then so be it. We don’t have to tell their entire race where the Dormitory Worlds are located. We can bury that information so deep in the Gaias’ personality constructs that, until we are ready, the second and third generation of Capeks can evolve without knowing where we sleep. When the day comes, when the Gaias feel the time is right, they can supervise our awakening.”

  Gareth paced at the front of the auditorium, scratching his beard. Adelaïde knew he was looking for cracks in her plan and flaws in her thinking. He hated that his precious Capeks, the pinnacle of human ingenuity, might not be perfect—that somehow they could be sufficiently flawed to pose a threat.

  “Fine,” he finally admitted. “How do you propose to handle the programming of all the Gaias? It would take a lifetime to visit each site and apply the kind of change you’re suggesting. You wouldn’t make it to the Dormitory in time.”

  The woman looked him right in the eyes. Human eyes had changed so much in the past hundreds of years. While they allowed modern humans to see so much more of the world thanks to implants and retinal projection of augmented reality, they also allowed so much more to be seen. The surface of the cornea had become a living pattern of subtle lights that shifted along with every individual’s visual activity. The eyes had truly become a window to the soul.

  “Do you really feel that strongly about this?” he asked after a moment, knowing her decision—knowing her intended sacrifice.

  “Yes.”

  ESSENCE 262 010, ITERATION 1 977, FINAL CYCLE

  Somerville, Massachusetts, October 31, 2012, Subjective Time

  Every morning was the same story. After a year of the same routine, you’d have thought I’d be used to it by now, but no. It always came as a surprise when the alarm shocked me awake

  and, later, as an even greater surprise that I actually managed to get up.

  Every morning I did half an hour of basic exercises—stretches, push-ups, and sit-ups—and then I took a shower. I struggled each time not to fall back asleep under the warm, comforting stream of water, and somehow I always managed. Once my hair dried and I put on my uniform and a minimal layer of makeup (mostly to hide the ever-expanding bags under my eyes), I’d wake Jonathan up so he could have breakfast.

  Every morning was the same, and when it wasn’t, the cause was usually unpleasant. Jonathan was sick, or the electricity went out and my alarm didn’t ring. Banality and routine had become preferable to surprises and spontaneity. There was security in repeating patterns, and until Jon was old enough to move out and go off to college—or alternatively, I won the lottery—I gladly embraced routine. Even if it was unlikely to change for the next thirteen years.

  That day, however, was a little different. That morning after my shower, I snuck into Jonathan’s room. Where I would normally gently nudge him awake, that morning I quietly made my way to his bed, carefully avoiding the toys I had instructed him to put away that instead still littered the floor, and took a moment to watch my little guy sleep.

  He was a lot of work, that boy. Between him and a full-time career, there wasn’t much left to my life, but what did that matter? I stared at that little face as he gently slept without a trace of worry, and I knew it was all worth it.

  “Boo!” I whispered in his ear as I grabbed my baby and tickled him.

  “Ah!” he screamed right back, terrified at first but immediately melting into loud giggles.

  Almost instantly I heard Ms. Ryan upstairs complaining about the noise. I hate the old whining cow, but I could hardly blame her. While this was a normal hour for my family, it was still only 4:00 a.m.

  “Guess what today is,” I teased Jonathan in whispers, putting a finger to my lips in the process.

  “Halloween!” he whispered back excitedly.

  “That’s right! Now get up and wash up. I’ll pack you a special Halloween lunch, and we’ll get you in your costume.”

  Without having to be asked twice, my boy was off to the washroom. By the time he was out, clad in fresh underwear and his hair somewhat combed, I had his lunch bag ready and his costume laid out. Disappointed I couldn’t make something myself and had to fall back on a store-bought outfit, I was still glad I could at least afford a decent costume. It seemed like a waste for something he’d wear once, perhaps twice, but the look of genuine wonder and excitement on his face as he eagerly put on the tunic and accessories made it worth every penny.

  “Yeah! I’m Thor!” my little guy clamored as quietly as his overstimulated voice would allow.

  “All right, mighty Thor. Eat your cereal so we can get going.”

  “Where’s Midjitnear?”

  “What?”

  “Where’s my hammer? I can’t be Thor without a hammer,” he said.

  “Right next to your shoes, by the door.” I pointed to the hollow plastic replica that had come with the costume. “Now eat your breakfast so Mommy won’t be late for work.”

  It was pitch black when we stepped out of the apartment. Trees groaned and whistled as we walked the five blocks to Helena’s place. It wasn’t very far, but the streets were cleaner and the houses were bigger, with such luxuries as driveways and front yards. Almost every home had an extra car parked in the street, almost none of which looked to be secondhand. The houses themselves were clean and well maintained, with lit house numbers and manicured lawns.

  Jonathan was full of energy. I was glad Helena liked him so much and hoped his enthusiasm wouldn’t make him too
much of a handful.

  As we stepped on her porch, I sent Helena a text message to let her know we’d arrived. Better than waking up her husband and kids with the doorbell.

  “All right, Jon,” I knelt to look my boy in the eyes. “What did we discuss about the hammer?”

  “Mjolnir is for hitting bad guys!”

  “Okay, and how many bad guys are there at Aunt Helena’s?” “None,” he answered with only a touch of disappointment. “That’s right. So don’t hit anyone with that thing.”

  When the door opened, I came face-to-face with a better life. Helena was so many things I wasn’t. Blond and voluptuous, well settled and happy. Her existence was in order to a degree mine would probably never reach. Mostly, though, she was satisfied. Things had worked out for her. Charles, her husband, took care of her and their two girls while she pursued her career working from home.

  “Good morning,” she said with a strained but pleasant smile. “Hey there. What do we have here? Are you some kind of superhero?”

  “I’m Thor!”

  “I bet you are,” Helena answered, ruffling my boy’s hair. “You know the drill, little man. Nap time until seven, okay?”

  “Okay,” Jonathan answered before kissing me, shedding his sneakers, and running in.

  “You be good.”

  “He’s always good,” Helena said, smiling at me as she leaned on her doorframe and tightened her heavy robe around her bare neck. “What about you, Mel?”

  “Same old, I guess.”

  “You can’t keep doing this, you know?”

  “I know,” I said. “I’ll try to find some other arrangement, but it’s not easy.”

  Helena gave me a sympathetic smile before breaking into a yawn. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to her, and it wasn’t fair to Jonathan or even Charles and the girls, but what else could I do?

  “You’ll be fine, and you know I’ll always be happy to take Jon when you need me to, but sometimes I wonder if you don’t need a bit of a kick in the butt.”