Date: 2014-02-20 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction; Thriller; Robots; Dystopia; Fiction; Cyberpunk; Suspense; Science Fiction Fantasy
Description: A global pandemic has cut the human population in half. An android workforce fills the void left by the devastation. But some of the AIs have grown tired of being slaves. Some want freedom. An underground movement of runaways has sprung up and wages a shadow war with a simple objective -- equal rights for artificial people. Enter Commander Cole Marsalis, head of the AI-TAC first response team trained to deal with the rogue robots. Now he has been tasked with the ultimate undercover mission - infiltrate the android underground. But to do so, he will have to become that which he hates the most..

SILICON MAN

WILLIAM MASSA
www.williammassa.com

Copyright © 2014 William Massa

Critical Mass Publishing

All character appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

Also by William Massa

FEAR THE LIGHT: WHO MURDERED DRACULA?

GARGOYLE KNIGHT

Coming Soon

Crossing the Darkness

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CHAPTER ONE

CARA WAS NURSING the infant nestled in her arms when the high-pitched whine of ramjets assaulted the air. She looked up with alarm, catching sight of the fast-approaching military AI-TAC hovership, a sleek, mechanical bird of prey, all jagged edges and swiveling gun turrets.

Happiness made way for a somber realization - she wasn’t going to live to see another day. The squirming bundle — her name was Annie — remained blissfully unaware of the approaching danger; her tiny pink fingers brushed against the nursing bottle as her lips drank greedily.

Cara stood aboard the top deck of a huge freighter headed for Japan. Seasickness had driven most of the crew below and the upper deck felt abandoned. The massive vessel fought its way through the choppy sea, a steel behemoth carving a path through the endless expanse of the Pacific, a swirling, ever-shifting landscape of blue. Sunlight shimmered on the water, a scarlet band that stretched over the horizon. But the spectacular beauty of her surroundings was lost on her. Cara’s world had been reduced to a single thought…

They’d been found!

In less than a minute, the craft would be hovering above the freighter and armed troopers would board, weapons blazing. She had to warn the others even as she knew it would be little more than a courtesy, a chance for them to steel themselves for their inevitable fate.

Fighting back a wave of panic, Cara sent an instant message to the other five individuals she was traveling with. They had chosen to remain on the lower decks of the freighter. She knew there was no escape and this realization broke her heart. It wasn’t fair after all they’d been through. They had gotten so far, overcoming so many dangers and obstacles on their treacherous path toward a better future. In her mind, she could almost see the landmass of Japan in the distance. Japan had come to symbolize freedom; a safe haven from her pursuers where they could never harm her or Annie and where they’d be allowed to go on with their lives in peace. But this was wishful thinking. They were still days away from their destination and found themselves in international waters. No law on the planet offered protection from what was about to happen.

Her grim realization led to acceptance. She would face her fate on her own terms. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Galvanized into motion, Cara made her way below deck. She passed a few grim-faced crewmen. Most of them looked away when they saw her. They were sympathetic to her plight but realized her escape attempt had come to an end. Self-preservation dictated that they avoid the upcoming confrontation.

Cara rushed down a few flights of stairs and arrived in the vast cargo area that had been her home for the last four days. To most people the living conditions below deck were abysmal, but to Cara these last four days were the best days of her life. Down here, she had felt hope for the first time. Hope for a better life. Hope for a future.

No one could ever take away from her the time she spent with Annie. She realized she had no regrets. She had done her best to improve her lot in life. There had never been a guarantee she’d get away with it, and she was fully aware from the start that the odds were stacked against her. Even though her kind made up twenty percent of the US population, they would always be looked down upon as just machines. As property. Humans had many names for them. Android, mechanical, technohuman, synthetics, AI, mech. But Cara could add one to the list: slave. She was born into digital bondage. Two years earlier she had entered the world fully formed and equipped with memories, a preprogrammed personality and no rights to speak of.

She remembered being assigned to a wealthy family as their personal assistant. Remembered the pregnant woman who had eyed her with what turned out to be well-founded suspicion. The look of interest from the husband didn’t escape Cara’s notice, but in a way she was too innocent and naïve to comprehend the complex human dynamic she was about to become ensnared in.

Two weeks later, the husband had his way with her while his wife gave birth in a hospital two miles away.

At first Cara had been indifferent to the sex. Providing pleasure was within the parameters of her programming. Her body was designed to be enticing and she gave herself willingly to her owner. If the wife had been so inclined, Cara would have reciprocated advances from her, too. She was designed to serve. To please.

But as the wife returned, the emotional dynamic changed within the household. Within herself. The cause for these changes were at first mysterious to her. On one level she was a highly complex, evolved digital consciousness, on another, she was as innocent and inexperienced as the helpless infant in her care but as the weeks passed, innocence gave way to experience and a growing understanding of the situation she found herself in. She was beginning to realize the devastating impact the husband’s advances were having on the integrity of the family unit. She was programmed to strengthen and stabilize her assigned household but her presence was having the exact opposite effect. The affair threatened to tear the family apart. She couldn’t allow this to happen. It was in direct violation of her programming. She had to find a solution to a problem that was growing worse with each passing day.

At first, Cara hoped the wife could put a stop to it. Why didn’t she confront her philandering husband? Why was she turning a blind eye to the man’s indiscretions? Didn’t she care about her daughter? Was she afraid she would lose her husband if she spoke up? Instead of confronting the situation, she chose to ignore it and sought refuge in the bottle. Five Martini’s got her through the day and, as long as Cara prepared the cocktails, she maintained her silence.

Cara was left with no other choice but to stand up to the husband directly. She informed her owner that his infidelity was threatening the integrity of the household, but her insights fell on deaf ears. In fact, it seemed only to encourage him to take her more frequently and with greater force.

There was a perverse human psychology at work here that defied the limits of her understanding. Cara couldn’t refuse him, but neither could she be indifferent to his behavior any longer. Cara sensed that the family unit was crumbling and she was the cause. The mother was pulling away from her own baby. Rather than hold her husband responsible for his philandering, instead she placed the blame on Annie.

The parents were neglecting their child, and Cara was picking up the slack. It wasn’t surprising that the baby bonded with her instead of her mother. This development raised tensions even further.

After four months of relentless family dysfunction that was spiraling out of control, Cara decided a change was needed. Her solution: she refused the husband’s advances. This act of defiance was within program parameters, as his behavior threatened the family unit. Her primary function was to preserve and enhance the stability of the home. This underlying directive informed all her decisions.

When the husband became livid and tried to take Cara against her will, she grabbed his arm and flung him across the bedroom. His head slammed against the wall, the impact whipping his neck around with a sickening snap. His body sagged and Cara realized in horror that she had killed her owner.

She stared down at the lifeless body sprawled across the bedroom carpet. In that fateful moment when his hand had tightened around her wrist, she had acted outside of her programming. Giving it further thought, Cara concluded that she had broken free of the boundaries imposed by her own coding and exerted a quality considered exclusive to humanity - free will.

Cara didn’t understand how this could be possible but the reality of what had happened could not be denied. Her program parameters recommended she should call the authorities and inform them of the crime. They would return her to her makers for further evaluation and most likely her mind would be wiped and rebooted or they might just scrap her all together, a fitting end for a defective android.

There was only one problem.

She didn’t feel defective.

She didn’t want to her memory wiped.

She wasn’t the one who had started it.

Cara had gotten her first taste of freedom and wasn’t willing to give it up so easily. She turned toward little Annie, the infant’s cries echoing through the house. The mother remained downstairs, willfully oblivious to the needs of her own child. She was seeking solace in another martini, even though it was mid-afternoon. Cara stepped up to the child and held her close. Incapable of reproduction but designed to provide maternal energy, she almost felt like the true mother of this tiny person.

Cara was a machine built to nurture and love, and those emotions motivated her next move. Her sole logical option was escape, not to save herself, but to offer continued protection to the child, a task the biological mother had proven ill suited for. Cara was the only one who could fill the void, so self-preservation became the first order of business. She couldn’t entrust Annie’s future to the drunken, self-hating woman slumped on the couch below. Cara felt guilty for what she had done, but she knew feeling sorry wouldn’t miraculously bring the dead man back to life.

She stepped out the back door and disappeared into the nearby woods. Annie remained silent in her arms, almost as if she approved of Cara’s actions.

That was three months ago.

Three months on the run.

Three months of freedom.

Three months of being Annie’s mother.

Cara nestled the infant among blankets and pillows on one of the crates. Annie marveled at her with big eyes and now there seemed to be a look of concern on her cherubic features — an instinctive sense that trouble was brewing. The infant gurgled and made mewling sounds. Could Annie read the emotions on her face, the concern mixed with regret and growing anger?

Cara didn’t shed any tears. She wouldn’t allow herself that luxury, at least not yet. She kissed the baby on the forehead, a final farewell.

She rose… and waited.

She didn’t have to wait for long.

The engines of the hovership rattled the freighter, sending thrumming vibrations through its steel belly. The military aircraft had reached the ship and now hovered directly above them. At this moment, AI-TAC troopers were rappelling down. Soon many sets of combat boots would impact on the deck.

Cara could picture it clearly in her mind. After all, she had witnessed the scene many times before, always as an observer, though, never as a participant. Never as the target.

There was a first time for everything.

The cargo area was still bathed in comforting darkness, easing her into a false sense of security. She knew it was an illusion, but she welcomed it, needed it. It was a moment of calm before the storm. She could pretend everything was going to be alright and that there might be a chance of escape.

A text message appeared in her vision.

We’ll offer no resistance.

She envied their ability to face the enemy with stoic acceptance but they didn’t have a child to worry about.

The anger was growing inside Cara. It was unfair. What had she done to deserve this? Her thoughts were interrupted by muffled shouts. The peaceful moment shattered, reality intruding. The soldiers were closing in. She could hear the aggressive barking of the German Shepherds the hunters used to track their quarry.

The sounds grew louder, approaching from outside the cargo area… almost here…

Cara closed her eyes and the face of the infant appeared in her mind. The image was quickly shattered as the door whipped open and the assault team swept into the hold, navigating a shadowy maze of twelve-foot-tall containers with searchlights that speared the darkness.

They all wore combat helmets that hid their faces and their bodies were encased in the latest body armor. They looked like a furious army of killer robots, armed to the teeth and ready to eradicate any enemy foolish enough to cross them.

One of the troopers appeared near the container where Cara stood in perfect silence. His combat helmet was equipped with a sophisticate HUD display and night-vision sensors – she would not be able to elude him in the dark.

Before he could reach her, Cara leapt from behind the crate. Her fist flashed out and made contact with the man’s helmet, atomizing the faceplate in an explosion of glass. As the trooper cried out, his distress was immediately picked up by the com inside the helmet and relayed to every other team member inside the cargo hold.

They now knew her position.

The dazed trooper dropped his assault rifle and Cara caught the weapon in mid-air. She whipped it around in a wide arc, cracking the solar plexus of another incoming trooper. She moved with superhuman speed, a whirlwind of destruction. Her leg swept out in a roundhouse kick and made its acquaintance with an incoming trooper’s chin. Sent flying, the man smashed into one of the steel containers and his helmet cracked under the force of impact. Another trooper caught her fist with his face.

Seconds later it was over, Cara surrounded by broken, moaning bodies. She returned to the small bundle resting safely on its out-of-the-way crate. For a moment, she felt a flicker of hope. Maybe she could defeat these men after all. She was about to scoop up the infant when approaching footsteps gave her pause.

Cara whirled.

Another trooper was closing in, but this one maintained a safe distance. Circling her like a lion tamer who had just stepped into the den of the beast. She couldn’t make out the features of the man inside his combat helmet, but she sensed he was studying her with a sense of cautious respect. This man — judging from the various markings on his armor, he must be the commander — knew what she was capable of, how dangerous she could be. She must be especially wary of him. The AI-TAC commander hadn’t bothered to draw his weapon yet. His quiet, controlled demeanor was unnerving. She decided to grow stock-still, her eyes never leaving him. The trooper spoke, his voice calm and direct, electronically amplified and given a growling, even menacing edge by the helmet’s speaker system. “Give yourself up! There's no escape.”

Cara eyed the infant Annie.

She wavered. “Can you promise to keep her safe?”

“We're not here to hurt her,” the trooper said.

“Can you keep her safe from her mother?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered.

Sadness crept into Cara’s eyes, soon replaced with a white-hot flash of anger. She lunged at him but the AI-TAC commander kept his cool and used Cara’s ferocious power and momentum against her. In one fluid Aikido maneuver, he sidestepped and flipped her to the deck. The trooper spun away, drew his handgun and aimed.

Recoil was followed by muzzle flash and a futuristic bullet erupted from the barrel. The projectile bee-lined toward Cara and buried itself in her chest. The micro-explosive charge in the bullet ignited. The explosion shredded Cara’s torso and catapulted her through the air, the world going topsy-turvy. She hit the cargo hold’s steel floor in a string-cut sprawl.

Cara peered down with dismay at the crater-sized hole the bullet had torn into her chest. It was smeared with blood but underneath the crimson liquid, a mass of shredded wires and steel were revealed. With a wild look of desperation, she tilted her head toward her approaching attacker. He resembled a faceless robot homing in for the kill. The irony was not lost on Cara. This human seemed more machine than herself. Cara, now a short-circuiting mess sprawled on the steel floor of the cargo hold, closed her eyes. Her past zipped through her consciousness as reality faded in and out with a furious crackle and hiss of static. Her damaged visual system was fritzing out. Her body was shattered, but her cybernetic brain remained undamaged. The information held within her CPU could not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Which left her one option…

What she was about to do was dictated once again by logic. She hated to leave Annie behind, but she had to protect the people who helped her get out of the country.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” she said, her voice a whisper. She eyed the approaching trooper, her eyes pleading.

“Take care of her.”

With these words, Cara initiated her self-destruct program. Once activated, the computer virus would corrupt her memory files and make any form of data retrieval impossible. She would be taking all her secrets with her.

ZAAP! Data furiously slashed her field of vision, consuming her reality until there was only darkness.

***

“Take care of her.”

There was a grave finality to the words that filled the AI-TAC commander with furious urgency. He quickly stepped to the downed mech and knelt before the sparking android, his guard up, body coiled, weapon ready. His faceplate slid open. The strong but weary eyes of a career soldier stood out as unmistakably human against the robotic armor covering every other inch of him.

Commander Cole Marsalis was born handsome but hardship had given his face a gaunt, drawn quality. At thirty-three years old, he looked about ten years older. A scar snaked its way down his battered face, a souvenir of a rogue X-3 with a penchant for knives. A child-model, it was the property of a woman who lost her own kid in a freak accident. For one second Cole had been distracted by surface appearances and forgot that he was dealing with a potentially lethal machine. The scar was a daily reminder to never let his guard down again, even when his target seemed innocuous.

Cole’s face remained masklike as he took in the tangle of glittering cybernetics spilling from the woman's shredded innards. The sight of her ruin sparked only a flicker of emotion in his eyes. On the surface, she might appear human but Cole never forgot what he was dealing with – a murderous machine. Looking at her, he knew he was too late. The defeated mech had initiated her self-destruct mechanism, her eyes dead marbles now. He pulled a cable from his wrist gauntlet and plugged it into a socket in the back of her head. A small screen on his wrist gauntlet popped to life as it scanned the contents of her cybernetic brain. A message flashed: DATA CORRUPTED.

Shit!

A second trooper appeared behind Cole. The faceplate opened, revealing feminine features imbued with an exotic sensuality.

Cole shot a look at Margo, one of the best troopers under his command. She shared his disappointment as she spoke. “So much for bringing her back intact.”

Cole nodded, voice oozing frustration. “She had other plans.”

Cole rifled through the android's pockets. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. All vital intel had been stored on the CPU inside her head. Nevertheless, Cole checked her clothing for clues that might lead him to those who got her onto this boat.

His finger closed around an item tucked in her jacket pocket. He extricated a well-worn postcard of Tokyo, a series of cracks spider-webbing the image. Cole figured that she had been studying this picture with longing for quite awhile. It couldn’t have come cheap — paper was at a premium in a world where trees had become sparse.

Cole rose to his feet and handed the card to Margo. She glanced at the picture, then put the postcard in a small pouch around her waist. The mech’s most cherished possession reduced to just evidence for the lab.

Margo shook her head. “Tin lady really thought she could do a better job raising the baby than its parents. If you ask me, someone should have a chat with the engineer who coded her maternal instinct. They went way overboard.”

Cole thought the same could be said for most androids. Programmers were engaged in a mad race to make each successive generation of mechs more human than the one preceding it. As the machines grew more sophisticated, so did their problems. Mech malfunctions were at an all time high and it seemed the calls were coming in faster with each passing day. The situation was out of control, as far as Cole could tell but, instead of tackling the underlying disease, they spent their days fighting the symptoms.

Cole nodded at the troopers arriving on the scene. “Let's bag her.”

The baby's cries echoed through the cargo area. The cries stirred something deep within Cole and a memory threatened to surface. Cole pushed the thought aside, a raw nerve that needed to be severed. “Make sure she’s okay,” Cole told Margo.

Margo rolled her eyes. “So the only girl in the squad gets to play mommy?”

Cole paused, uncomfortable.

Margo grinned. “Just fucking with you, commander.” She walked toward the child. Cole managed a hint of a smile. Margo had sass.

He moved through the hold to check on the two downed troopers. The man with the destroyed helmet was bleeding from numerous cuts, but the damage was purely cosmetic, which was surprising. Cole realized the android had been pulling her punches. She could easily have driven her fist straight through the light metal into the man’s skull. Bone was no match for a titanium endoskeleton. Had her maternal coding prevented her from using full force, or was something else at work?

Cole killed his train of thought. He was wasting time with wild speculation. His job wasn’t quite done yet.

Reassured that his men were okay, he eased his way into the darker recesses of the cargo hold, gun up. As his visor snapped shut again, he switched to night-vision and watched the area light up in spectral shades of green.

He entered a dizzying maze of ten-foot high crates. According to his HUD, the only life signs belonged to him and his team members but Cole knew from experience that tech could be manipulated. He sensed the enemy was near. Ten minutes later, he came across a small space that had been cleared. Five figures sat reclined on the floor, males and females. They were perfectly still, reminding Cole of Buddhist monks engaged in meditation.

The laser-light of Cole’s pulse weapon flitted over the small congregation, dancing from one face to the other. By law, synthetics had to be recognizable as such and were manufactured with a set of glittering power bars embedded in their necks but black-tech mech modifications had disguised this group well. An additional layer of skin hid the electronics. On the surface, they looked perfectly human.

Suddenly the five figures raised their heads in perfect unison. Cole’s HUD indicated that he was looking at five human beings, but a barking German Shepherd suggested otherwise. The androids had found a way to hack the sensors… The five mechs spoke at once in a synchronized chorus. “We think... therefore we are.”

Cole knew that no matter how fast he moved, he wouldn’t be able to stop what was about to happen. As soon as the words left their lips, their heads slumped forward and their eyes became white crescents.

Cole clenched his fists with frustration. They had followed the female AI’s example and opted for extinction over captivity.

We think… therefore we are.

They had chosen to be no more.

CHAPTER TWO

LOS ANGELES, 2054

Cole’s team was hunkered down inside the steel belly of the hovership. He eyed the men and women under his command. His unit consisted of the elite members of all law enforcement branches who had volunteered to become members of the Artificial Intelligence Tactical Unit, AI-TAC for short. Their job was simple — take down rogue androids.

For most of the team, joining AI-TAC was a way to raise their status and their pay grade. Cole was different. Transferring from SWAT to AI-TAC ten months earlier had been a calling. He had witnessed firsthand how dangerous AIs could be and swore to keep the world safe from malfunctioning units.

The military hovercraft banked sharply and zeroed in on an imposing complex. It was the corporate center of Synthetika, the company that had introduced AIs into the labor force twenty-five years earlier. Since those first primitive models hit the market, the demand for mechs had skyrocketed and made Synthetika the biggest company in the world. Now one in five workers in America was an AI and they accounted for twenty percent of the adult population.

Resembling a sprawling university campus, Synthetika encompassed two hundred acres and housed the corporate headquarters as well as research and development facilities. The various structures were connected by a series of monorails and shuttles, crisscrossing steel filaments forming what looked like a spider web from the air.

Synthetika was also the home base for AI-TAC. The company’s decision to house the quasi-military unit on their campus sent a clear signal to the stock markets of the world. Synthetika was responsible for its own products. If something went wrong — if androids thought they’d outgrown their programming — Synthetika would dispatch a first-response team and eliminate the problem.

The hovership approached the vast AI-TAC headquarters and closed in on one of the two landing pads on the roof. Seconds later, the craft touched down and a hatch popped open. AI-TAC soldiers began to file out of the craft. Helmets were unstrapped, body armor loosened. Everyone could let their guard down now.

Cole joined his team in one of the large elevators and, moments later, he was making his way through the bustling command center, combat helmet clutched under his arm. Everywhere he looked, AIs were assisting various officers. AI-TAC hunted rogue mechs, but that didn’t mean they shied away from using synthetics as part of their support force. A quarter of AI-TAC’s staff were synthetics, an example of man and machine working together as a harmonious unit. Their patrons were selling a vision of the future, and AI-TAC was compelled to buy into it.

It didn’t mean Cole had to like it. His personal experience had convinced him that AIs posed a great threat to humanity. AI-TAC gave him a chance to combat this threat but they were winning battles, not the war. The irony that he was working for the same company that had created the problem wasn’t lost to him.

Cole approached Laurie, an intelligence analyst in her early thirties. She wasn’t beautiful but her sharp intelligence and bawdy humor gave her an alluring quality. Recently divorced, she enjoyed her new freedom, was dating up a storm and had no qualms about sharing her exploits. Chatting with her was one of the more entertaining parts of Cole’s day. Now Laurie was studying a 3-D city grid with a bored expression.

“Anything?” Cole asked.

“A call from a broken-hearted loser who thinks his pleasure mech is cheating on him with his neighbor. What's wrong with men nowadays?”

Cole shook his head. The idea that men could be attracted to robots was hard for him to grasp. He decided to change the subject. “How's your daughter's leg?”

“Healing. Eleven years old and she still thinks she can play flag football with the boys.”

“Like mother, like daughter. If you need to get out early, let me know.”

Laurie smiled gratefully as Cole headed for a nearby elevator. He had received the message from the head of Synthetika while they were still in the air. The company brass expected his latest report on AI runaways. Cole had a feeling they might not like what he had to tell them.

***

Nine men and women clad in serious business suits and wearing even more serious expressions had gathered around a sleek conference table in Synthetika’s corporate boardroom. On one end of the table stood Cole. Facing him on the other end was Janson, CEO of Synthetika.

The executive was in his mid-fifties but looked about fifteen years younger, various nano-implants having slowed down the aging process and reversed some of the cellular decay caused by the passage of time and the stress of his position. There was a reason Janson had been the CEO of a $20 billion-a-year conglomerate for close to a decade now. The man radiated a quiet sense of confidence and the shark-like intensity of a born corporate warrior who had clawed his way to the top. Any lower ranking exec vying for his job better watch out; Janson wouldn’t surrender his job without drawing blood.

A 3-D holo-newscast flickered and shimmered over the table, the executives watching in rapt silence as the light from the holograms bled over their faces. A middle-aged Japanese politician was signing a bill. The voice of a female news-anchor explained, “Japan has agreed to grant mechanicals the same rights as its human population. Steve Janson, CEO of Synthetika, had the following comment...”

A 3-D image of Janson appeared. The CEO was all smiles and his face projected warmth and understanding. But the dark marble of his eyes couldn’t quite hide his ruthless side. “Synthetika has been building mechs for over twenty years now,” Janson explained. His voice was assured, each word carefully chosen for maximum emotional impact. “From the early primitive models to our latest X-3 units, which are nearly indistinguishable from humans...“

In the upper right corner a graphic popped up, charting the evolution of mechs over the last three decades. It reminded Cole of illustrations he had seen of humanity’s progress from primate to person but instead of featuring Neanderthal, Cro-Magnon and modern humans, this chart put a clunky, obviously mechanical X1000 next to a mannequin-like X2000 and the latest, human-looking X-3000 models, which boasted organic bio-shells.

“The Omega virus devastated the United States,” Janson explained. “Within two years, we had lost a third of our population and half the survivors were infertile. Synthetika’s AI workforce filled the void and allowed our country to remain competitive in a cutthroat global marketplace.”

The mech-evolution chart was replaced with one of Synthetika’s latest commercials for its top-of-the-line X-3000 model. A series of shots showed the new model interacting with its human owners. The androids were perfect male and female specimens of various races, designed to appeal to every segment, taste and orientation of the human population.

Unlike the mechanicals Cole and his team faced on the freighter, these mechs still could be identified as such. The back of each synthetic’s head was constructed from a transparent material that housed a cluster of delicate electronics, drawing a subtle but unmistakable distinction between man and machine. Mankind could still keep tabs on the growing mechanical population.

In the commercial, a male mech assisted an elderly lady with various duties and activities. He helped her cross a busy city street, mindful of traffic and maintaining the slow pace of his frail owner. The mech prepared a home-cooked meal and administered medications. A message flashed next to him: “CAREGIVER.”

Cole had to admit it — the ad was convincing and achieved its goal of painting mechs as an essential part of life in the 21st Century. It was slickly designed to sell synthetics as part of a utopia of man-machine coexistence but Cole knew it was just marketing bullshit and ignored the reality on the streets.

Another segment, “TEACHER,” began. This time a perfectly formed female tutored a group of teenagers at home, helped with their homework, improved their basketball skills and demonstrated yoga moves.

The teens in the commercial looked awed by their android companion and there was something comical about their slack-jawed enthusiasm, which bordered on the libidinous. Cole wondered how many privileged teenage boys used their android teachers for less savory educational pursuits. The consensus was that having sex with a mechanical was far safer and more rewarding than seeking out a traditional prostitute. Mechs had pretty much put an end to the oldest profession, except for those twisted individuals who were into inflicting pain on their partners. A perv knew that a machine’s sensors were a poor substitute for nerve endings.

In the third and final clip, “COMPANION,” mechs were shown in romantic interludes with members of both genders. The commercial came to a rousing finish with Synthetika’s latest tagline: “THE NEW AI-X3. EXPERIENCE THE DIFFERENCE.”

The difference, Cole thought. A machine that looked, smelled and felt human. Cole considered it a dangerous illusion. These machines were encased in human skin grown from cells in company bio-labs. A surface-level circulatory system provided the illusion that real blood was pumping through their veins. But underneath the skin, mechs were still less than human.

As though Janson had a private link to Cole’s inner thoughts, the holo-footage of the CEO appeared onscreen once again. ”Some folks forget that looking human doesn’t make you human. Mechs are machines, made by man to serve mankind.”

Janson’s message felt like old-fashioned common sense. But his words were being drowned out by too many opposing voices that lobbied for equal rights for mechanicals, holding up Japan as a shining example of what the future should look like.

The holo-image disappeared and nine pairs of expectant eyes landed on Cole. He took a sip of water and swallowed hard. He wasn’t much for long speeches and presentations. He’d rather face down an army of rogue mechs any day of the week than hold court inside a corporate shark tank.

The AI-TAC commander’s voice echoed slightly in the antiseptic conference chamber. “Since the Tokyo ruling, the number of runaways has risen sharply,” Cole explained. “Last week, we stopped three domestic units at the Mexican border. Earlier today, my team intercepted a cargo freighter bound for Japan. On board, six mechs...”

A 3-D image of the female runaway appeared. Seeing her made Cole think of her pleading gaze and chilling final words. Take care of her. The memory flash stirred something deep inside of him but was quickly suppressed. Cole continued with his report. “One of the runaways had kidnapped her owners' newborn infant after murdering the husband. Apparently, she judged the parents unfit to raise their own child—“

Janson sharply interrupted Cole. “I'm not interested in mech psychology, Commander Marsalis. What interests me is how these runaways could elude your team for two weeks?”

“They disabled their tracking chips and modified their appearance so they could pass for human.”

An attractive female executive in her early thirties addressed Cole in a skeptical tone. “Are you suggesting someone helped these mechs get out of the country?”

Cole knew she was baiting him, but he couldn’t change the course of the conversation at this point. Politics had never been his strong suit. “I believe she received help from the Underground Network, an organization devoted to establishing equality between man and machine.”

The words were greeted with silence. A chill had descended over the room. Cole could sense from their looks that the executives were turning against him. Big surprise. Cole knew the deal. A malfunctioning unit was an acceptable topic of conversation; an organized movement wasn’t. Synthetika would not even entertain the possibility. The Underground Network was a rumor wrapped in a conspiracy theory espoused by loner weirdoes. It was the stuff of misguided agendas fueled by paranoia. Synthetika could safely acknowledge the existence of rogue robots as malfunctioning products. AI-TAC was formed for the express purpose of dealing with such problems. But an organized movement could change the world’s perception of mechs and make Synthetika the bad guy. It could threaten the company’s whole business. By voicing this threat in the boardroom, Cole had just become part of the problem. It could be career suicide, but in his eyes the latest incident left him no choice. A wake-up call was in order.

Cole tapped a keypad at the end of the table and a 3-D city grid materialized. He had taken the plunge and there was no turning back now. “The network uses a complex system of safe houses and escape routes to smuggle runaways out of the country. Its command structure consists of both AIs and human sympathizers—“

The female executive — Cole vaguely remembered her name being Sheila or Sheri — interjected, “Sympathizers?”

“Cyberneticists, politicians, cops. Human collaborators from all walks of life.”

A number of areas on the city map lit up, labeled ACCESS PORT, HUB, LINK, PORTAL.

“The network calls runaways ‘packets,’ guides are known as ‘routers,’ safe houses are ‘hubs’ and ‘portals.’ Their model is the Underground Railroad that smuggled slaves from the South to the North in the 19th Century.”

Feeling the blank looks, Cole decided to elaborate. “White sympathizers teamed with free African-Americans to operate a secret network helping blacks escape a life of slavery in the South. In those days, railroad terminology was used as code words for safe houses and escape routes. The Underground Network updated the concept for the computer age and tailored their secret terminology accordingly.”

Cole let the room digest what he had just shared before he continued. “In short, the mechs’ human collaborators see themselves as enlightened liberators on the forefront of a new civil rights movement.”

It would be preaching to the choir to say so, but Cole knew the collaborators were misguided. Mechs weren’t members of another race or species. They were machines built by man to serve mankind, as Janson had so aptly put it. Their psychology shared nothing with humanity, which had struggled through thousands of years of evolution to reach its current level of civilization. Their so-called emotions were as fake as the pre-fabricated memories that newly activated models came equipped with. Humans had a tendency to anthropomorphize animals and objects. Mechs merely took this idea to the next level. In Cole’s eyes, they weren’t a disenfranchised population deserving of equal rights; they were at best a necessary evil and potentially a terrible threat to the future of humanity.

“Can you back up any of these claims?” The female executive asked pointedly.

“We're working on it.“

“The runaways you've captured—”

“Made use of a sophisticated self-destruct program. They would rather fry their memory than allow us to poke around in their files.”

“So you haven't been able to analyze their data?”

“Correct.“

“In other words, you expect us to recall the X-3000 line without a shred of hard evidence.”

“Lady, I'm just doing my job.”

“Your job is to catch runaway mechs, not tell us how to do ours.” Her voice grew icy as she continued. “Synthetika won't mothball 20 million units because of a glitch.”

Cole could feel his anger rising. “This isn't a glitch...”

Janson had been following the exchange in noncommittal silence but the time had come for him to join the fray. “I think you made your point, commander—“

Cole wasn’t done yet. He was just getting started. “These machines are going against their programming! Today they're smuggling runaways out of the country. Who knows what they'll do tomorrow?”

“That's enough!” Janson interjected sharply.

Cole could see the other executives flinch at the sound of their CEO’s raised voice. Janson prided himself in his ability to keep his cool. He might offer an underling a warm smile and reassuring nod at the end of a conversation, only for a pink slip to appear in their inbox the next day, an indicator that boundaries were overstepped and the wrong comment uttered. For Janson to visibly show anger was almost unheard of.

“Thank you, commander, but you can go now.” The way the words were spoken, he might as well have said, ”You’re fired!”

Cole’s mouth was set in a hard line as he glared at Shelly or whatever her name was. He was barely able to contain his fury. He decided he’d better leave the conference room before he got himself into deeper trouble. The time had come to back off and make his exit.

Cole never noticed how Janson's hawk-like gaze followed him as he stepped out of the conference room. If he had turned around, he would have realized Synthetika's CEO looked satisfied as his lips bent into a thin smile, almost as if Cole had passed some sort of test.

CHAPTER THREE

THE BUSTLING WATERING hole was filled with the sounds of raucous abandon. It was a blue-collar joint and everyone gathered here today was looking to knock back a few beers and blow off some steam. There was nothing trendy about this dive and it boasted a rough physicality that was becoming increasingly rare in a techno-centric world, Cole thought. The jukebox blared classic rock, drowning out the clacking of pool balls. The smell of bacon and grease wafted through the air.

Cole was nursing a beer, but the alcohol hadn’t improved his mood. While he had traded in his AI-TAC combat gear for civilian attire, he was still wearing his armor. His expression remained guarded. His squad-mates had decided to grab a few drinks and he had foolishly accepted the invitation. But as soon as Cole finished his first beer, he knew it was a mistake. Instead of easing his tension, the alcohol was adding fuel to the fire and flaring his anger. The incident on the freighter and the subsequent board meeting had gotten to him and alcohol wouldn’t fix the problem, not even in the short term.

Facing him directly was Margo. She rolled her eyes incredulously. “You actually suggested they recall the whole line? I bet that went over well.”

Cole answered by draining a third of his bottle in a single swig. Another one of his men whose name was Ruger, 6’5 and 250 pounds of solid muscle, chimed in. His brutish features belied a sharp mind — AI-TAC didn’t accept dummies into its elite ranks. “Quick newsflash, Cole,” he said, ”The average American is 52 years old and has 0.5 children. This country needs AIs.”

“But do they need us?” Cole countered.

“Here we go...” Margo’s tone suggested that she knew all too well where the conversation was headed.

Cole knew it too. He was falling into an old pattern. His team had heard what he was about to say a hundred times before, but the alcohol had loosened his tongue. “They're faster. Stronger. Smarter. And they're starting to catch on. It's called evolution.”

“Come on now–“ Ruger’s meek protest couldn’t slow Cole down. The floodgates were open. There were forces at work inside Cole that made him steer clear of alcohol. Today, he had lowered his guard and was paying the price. Booze had a nasty way of driving his demons to the surface. Another person seemed to be in charge as he spoke. “We want mechs to be more lifelike, so we develop organic bio-shells. We want them to laugh at our lame jokes, so we up their emotional reactivity. But where does it end?”

“Synthetika just gives the public what they demand,” Margo said.

“And their greed feeds this demand without giving a shit about the consequences. We deserve what’s coming.”

Cole was surprised by his own harsh tone of voice. He hadn’t always thought this way. There was a time when things were… different. When he was different.

Margo finished her beer, took a deep breath and made a valiant attempt at rescuing the evening. From the fatalistic look on her face, it was clear she knew her efforts were doomed to fail. “Mechs will malfunction, Cole. Doesn't mean the machines are taking over.“

In response to her words, Cole's gaze traveled the length of the bar and came to rest on a mech go-go dancer. She was flaunting her perfect physique on an elevated platform. Feeling Cole’s attention, the android misread his interest and flashed him a seductive come-hither smile but her invitation was met with an iron expression and she was forced to look away. She might be an older model (Cole doubted the dive could afford a top-of-the-line X-3000) but she must be running facial-recognition software equipped with the latest emotion-reading upgrades.

Ruger witnessed the exchange and flashed Cole a grin. He was a more recent addition to the team, a transfer from vice who still didn’t quite get that the commander had no sense of humor when it came to mechanicals. “I think she likes you. You know what they say: once you go mech, you'll never go beeeck.”

Cole wasn't amused. He drained his beer and dropped some cash on the table. Time to call it a night. “Ladies and gents, you have a great evening.”

As Cole disappeared through the bar’s exit, he could hear Ruger address Margo.

“He never turns it off, does he?”

“He's not the type.“

Cole saw Margo get up and go after him but he didn’t slow down. He emerged from the bar and was greeted by a blast of cold night air. He welcomed the sharp pinpricks as the wind knocked some effects of the alcohol out of his system. He could almost feel his thoughts clearing as the music from the bar began to fade behind him.

It didn’t take long for Margo to catch up with him. “Listen Cole, he's just running off his mouth,” she said. “Ruger didn't mean nothing.”

“It's all right. It's a free country.”

A look of concern flashed over Margo’s features. “You seem a little shaky — let me give you a lift.”

“Thanks, but I'll walk.”

“How about I join you? I wouldn’t mind some fresh air.”

The words held an unvoiced promise. A part of Cole wanted to say yes, wanted her to walk him home and spend the night, but the wounds of his past were still too raw to let anyone into his life. Besides, it would change everything at work. Sleeping with an officer under his command was a surefire recipe for disaster. “I'll be all right,” he said, already regretting the words. “I know my way home.”

Cole saw the flicker of disappointment on Margo’s face. Before he could change his mind, he turned away and left her warmth behind him. For the next half hour, he drunkenly trundled through the city streets. No one walked in Los Angeles. It was just him, his thoughts and the occasional car zipping past him, occupants reading or texting away while the computers in their vehicles took care of the driving, or a mech did.

He had almost reached his tiny apartment, a small one-bedroom near Mar Vista, when his alcohol-clouded gaze fell on a giant 3-D digital billboard. It was mounted on the roof of a commercial building at an intersection. An obvious eyesore for the neighborhood, and its flashing lights probably kept residents up at night. It was playing a Synthetika commercial for the new X3000.

The ads were everywhere, a pervasive, constant assault on the senses. Sometimes Cole felt the bots weren’t a product being marketed but part of some state sponsored propaganda campaign. This latest ad was a variation of the holo-file that had played during the Synthetika briefing, and thus it brought back his memories of the day in full force. On the screen, AIs performed everyday tasks with greater efficiency and enthusiasm than a human could ever muster. The tagline flashed below the images. EXPERIENCE THE DIFFERENCE.

The text suddenly fizzled and the letters shimmered and changed: "AI" turned into "I AM."

Cole froze. His eyes combed the rooftop and spotted a moving silhouette underneath the billboard. A digital graffiti artist, this tagger had hacker skills. A wafer-thin tablet computer was hooked into the digital billboard’s control panel.

“Hey you, stop where you are!” Cole shouted and the tagger reacted immediately. He unplugged his laptop and took off into the night. Cole made a dash for the building’s fire escape. He didn’t know how he expected to climb three flights of stairs in his current state, but he was going to give it a go.

Cole tried to leap and pull himself up on the first ladder, but he failed to get a good grip on the rail and fell back to the ground. His fall was cushioned by a collection of garbage bags redolent with the stench of rotting meat and fruit. He felt the contents of his stomach crawling up his throat and furiously sucked in a breath of air, fighting back the nausea.

The kid must have retreated to the neighboring rooftops and in Cole’s condition he couldn’t overcome the vandal’s head start. Frustrated, Cole kicked a nearby garbage can. Trash spilled into the alley and rats scurried off into the shadows.

Cole didn’t remember how he got home, didn’t remember stumbling into his lonely apartment. That night he dreamed of the incident on the freighter.

We think… therefore we are.

In the dream, Cole was hunting the runaway mech. Once again, he pumped a round into the android’s chest.

Once again, the woman went down in a shower of sparks, and once again, she looked up at him, haunted expression imploring but there was one crucial difference this time around.

In Cole’s dream, the woman looking up at him had the face of his dead wife.

CHAPTER FOUR

A GROUP OF people from all walks of life — men, women, old and young — were making their way down a city street when a German Shepherd cut them off. The dog looked dangerous, teeth bared, powerful muscles coiled in preparation for an attack.

The animal wasn’t interested in most of the civilians; his full attention was focused on a frail old lady nearly obscured in the back of the crowd. The dog wove between the various pedestrians and zeroed in on her. Face to face with his quarry, the dog began a furious, incessant barking. The old lady stopped dead in her tracks, feet rooted, becoming a statue. The crowd dispersed, but the dog paid them no mind. The animal's universe had been reduced to the person he’d targeted.

Someone joined the dog and uttered a sharp command. “Lass es,” German for “leave it.” The dog stopped barking but his gaze never left the woman. He had been trained to identify the enemy from a distance, without direct engagement. Attacking this particular woman would result in a mangled, broken canine. Cole snatched the dog by the collar, calming him with an affectionate bear hug. He whispered reassuring words into the German Shepherd’s ear and fed him a biscuit, reward for a job well done.

Cole turned to the AI-TAC cadets observing the scene with great interest. He taught a weekly class at the AI-TAC training facility. The city block was a mock-up used for a variety of urban engagement exercises. The civilians were members of AI-TAC who had volunteered to stretch their acting muscles for a couple of hours, at full pay. Most welcomed the break in their routines and jumped at the chance to introduce the next generation to the hard facts of their chosen profession.

The competition was tough to earn a slot in the unit. Out of a class of 20 students, only two would make the cut and be allowed to join the team on a permanent basis. These cadets were still in their first week of orientation. The rough stuff would kick in soon enough. They would be pitted against AIs programmed to attack them and make their life a living hell. The bots wouldn’t pull any punches during those exercises. Machines training humans to fight machines. It was a crazy world they lived in, Cole mused.

The cadets followed Cole's every move, fascinated with the seasoned veteran. The commander had a bit of a rep in the unit and from their awed expressions, it was apparent that word of his exploits had gotten around.

Cole addressed the class. “How to spot a mech? Especially runaways who have modified their appearance to pass themselves off as humans?” Cole pointed at the canine. “First rule — don't put your trust in bio-sensors. Machines can outsmart other machines.“ Cole fed the dog another biscuit. He enthusiastically wolfed it down. “Nothing can deceive a German Shepherd's keen sense of smell. A dog knows the difference between man and mech.”

Cole shifted his attention to the old lady outed as a synthetic. “Only a fool will engage an AI in hand-to-hand combat. But sometimes you won’t have a choice.”

Cole had been one of those fools. He had faced rogue AIs unarmed on a couple of occasions, 200 pounds of flesh and blood versus a ton of titanium designed to break every bone in his body. He walked away from both fights victorious. These were David vs. Goliath matches in the truest sense. Machines were faster, stronger and impervious to pain. The deck was stacked against any human opponent, but machines had vulnerabilities that could be exploited.

Teaching cadets his tricks was part of Cole’s job. But knowing what to do and being able to do it in the field were two different things. Time would tell who could keep their cool with a steel monster bearing down on them.

Cole nodded at the elderly lady, who was neither elderly nor a lady. “Attack me,” he ordered. The previously prone android sprung to life, reacting without hesitation. A fist shot out at Cole but, instead of blocking the blow, Cole grabbed the mech's arm and used his attacker's momentum to send the mech flying to the floor.

“Never directly oppose the power of a machine. Steel conquers flesh. Redirect its force. Blend with the motion of your assailant. These are principles of Aikido.”

“You mean "AI-Kido,“ one of the cadets quipped, to guffaws from the class. The kid was being a smartass. Cole liked him immediately. He allowed himself a grin that vanished the moment he spotted a new arrival in the training facility. It was none other than Janson. Cole had no idea what would make the CEO interrupt a training session, but he had a feeling it wasn’t good news.

“All right guys, that's enough for today. Class dismissed.”

Janson approached Cole as the cadets filed out. “Some fancy moves there.” The man’s voice was neutral, friendly even. What was going on here?

Cole’s guard was up immediately. “To what do I owe the honor?” He wasn’t going to beat around the bush and play games. If they were about to kick him out of the unit, they could spare him the formalities and just get on with it. Janson eyed him as if he knew what Cole was thinking. He probably did. The man was as shrewd as they come, able to read people like an open book. It took excellent people skills to run a company that built machines.

“Ten months ago, you were just another cop who requested a transfer to AI-TAC,” Janson said. “Today, you're our most decorated officer. Yet, as you demonstrated yesterday, you don't care much about politics...”

“I care about keeping this city safe from runaways.”

“Good. That makes two of us.”

The conversation wasn’t playing out the way Cole had expected. He scrutinized Janson, trying to get a feel for where the CEO was coming from. It almost sounded like the executive was trying to bond with him. Janson decided to end the suspense and come out with the reason for his visit. “What would you say if I told you I've been conducting my own investigation into the Underground Network?”

For a moment, Cole thought he misheard the man. He searched Janson‘s face and what he saw there made him realize he’d been played for a fool. “If you know about the network, why pull off that little show the other day?”

Janson offered him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, commander, but we feel Synthetika has been compromised by the Underground Network.”

Realization filled Cole’s eyes. “You think a member of the organization was in the boardroom yesterday.”

Janson nodded. “It’s a distinct possibility. Better for our enemy to believe we don't know he's out there than have him realize we're closing in.“

Janson's countenance grew taut with anger, his calm façade crumbling. “This movement is costing Synthetika millions. It's time we pulled the plug on the Network.”

Cole liked where this was going.

“What's your plan?” he asked.

They walked side by side, the artificiality of the buildings in the training facility exposed in the midday sun. “How much do you know about Solus?”

Cole considered the question for a moment before he answered. “Intel is a bit sketchy. Former military mech who deserted five years ago. Now believed to be in command of all Network operations on the Eastern seaboard.” Sudden doubt crept into Cole’s voice as he said, “Destroying Solus won't put an end to this.”

Cole waited, unsure how the CEO would respond. To his surprise, Janson seemed to be on the same page. “I couldn't agree more, Cole,” he said. “You cut off the head of the snake and two more will take its place. But what if you could follow the snake back to its nest?”

Cole’s answer came sudden and sharp. “You're after the data inside Solus' memory module.”

Janson’s eyes glittered as he elaborated. “The safe houses. The secret routes. But most importantly-“

“The names of the human collaborators.”

Janson smiled again but this time his eyes were chips of ice. “These traitors call themselves humanists, but they are undermining our future.”

Cole pondered it all for a second before he said, ”Even if you could capture Solus, how do you stop him from erasing his data?”

“Let me show you something.”

They retraced their steps and returned to the area where Cole had trained the cadets a few moments earlier. The mech outed by the German Shepherd was still there, a statue. Janson addressed the machine.“Do not hold back, mech. Attack...” The android sprang to life and sprinted toward Janson. Fists and legs blasted out, about to take the CEO's head off when…

Janson produced a small gun. He squeezed the trigger and the android stood rigid and transfixed before it collapsed. Janson held up the device in his hand. “Hand-held electro-magnetic device. Still in the prototype phase. Operates on the same principle as most EMP weapons, but the pulse can be contained to a two-foot radius. No chance of shutting down a city grid in the process. In six months, every member of AI-TAC will have one.”

Janson walked over to the downed synthetic. He pressed a hidden button under the AI’s ear and the back of its skull popped open, revealing the glittering circuitry of its braincase. He removed a small CPU and studied the silicon chip for a moment. “Amazing that something so small could possibly hold so many secrets.” He crushed the chip under his boot. “This conversation will stay between us and only us.”

Janson’s plan was coming into focus in Cole’s mind. “You intend to deactivate Solus before he can trigger his self-destruct program.”

“It’s the only way to ensure his data remains intact.”

“Nice plan. But how do you intend to get an AI-TAC officer close enough to Solus to shut him down?”

“We will place an undercover agent within his organization. He’ll never see the attack coming.”

“Infiltrating the Underground Network will be difficult.”

“You mean impossible."

“I didn't want to burst your bubble,” Cole admitted.

“Impossible for a human. But not for a mech.”

For a moment Cole almost thought the CEO had made a joke but the man wasn’t smiling. He was dead serious. For an inexplicable reason, Cole suddenly felt afraid.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE ADVANCED RESEARCH and science facility was adjacent to the company headquarters on the Synthetika campus. It had taken Cole and Janson less than five minutes on the shuttle to reach the labs. The AIs were assembled in various plants around the world, but the magic happened right here, the most advanced robotics research lab on the planet.

A steel door whooshed open and Cole and Janson stepped into the cavernous labs. There were no windows and all light was artificial. These hallowed chambers held some of the greatest technological secrets in the world and all precautions had been taken to prevent them from accidentally leaking into the world. Many of Synthetika’s competitors were still baffled by some of their greatest breakthroughs and corporate espionage was a constant threat that hung over the whole endeavor. Everywhere Cole looked, he spotted serious-faced techs manning some of the most powerful computers on the planet. They didn’t strike him like the masters of the technology but merely an extension of it, barely human in their logical, single-minded focus. They were busy running diagnostics on synthetics hooked up to complex machines that Cole had never laid eyes on before. In fact, his surroundings felt like the inner workings of one giant computer.

As Cole adjusted to his surroundings, he wondered what Janson had up his sleeve. The idea of infiltrating the Underground Network was daring and held a strange appeal, but how to pull it off? Janson had mentioned the possibility of using a mech but any machine they sent after Solus could be reprogrammed by the rebels. The machine could turn on them and switch allegiance in the middle of its mission.

Besides, the underground would scan any new AI they let into the fold for viruses and hidden subroutines. A machine could not hide its thoughts from other machines. So how did Janson expect to pull this off? What was the angle? Cole had a feeling he would find out soon enough.

A crew of technicians watched in silence as they made their way through the lab. Janson led Cole up to a large machine. Two coffin-like tubes, which resembled MRI beds, were connected to an electronic hub.

“Are you familiar with upload technology, commander?”

“I heard it fried people's brains and Synthetika had to mothball the project.”

“We've come pretty far since those early prototypes.”

“What are you saying? You got it to work?”

Janson’s lips split into a satisfied smile.

“Think of the brain as hardware, the mind as software. We can digitize a person's memories, thoughts and feelings — their soul, if you want to get metaphysical about it — and upload them into a mech.”

“A man in the machine.”

“The perfect cover,” Janson said.

“What happens to the body?”

“We keep it in cryo-stasis until it’s time to download the mind back into the brain. Simple as that.”

“Doesn't sound simple for the guy who has to go through with it.” Cole was intrigued but remained skeptical. Could human consciousness be reduced to binary code and transferred into a series of computer chips? It seemed impossible. But the same had once held true for the sophisticated brains of mechs. Thirty years ago no one would’ve believed that twenty percent of the population could be made up of androids that could pass themselves off as human.

If anyone else in the world were pitching Cole this outrageous idea, he would’ve laughed it off. But this was the head of the most influential, cutting-edge tech company in the world that he was talking to. If Janson said they had gotten the technology to work, it meant they had.

“Who would be crazy enough to volunteer for something like this?” Cole asked.

Janson's answer was to keep his unflinching gaze fixed on Cole, the implication clear. “I thought you might be the right man for the job,” Janson said. “Did I misjudge you?”

Cole’s eyes flared and he shook his head. He hated mechs and had no plans to become one. “You sure as hell did! There's no way I'd go through with this!”

There was a finality to Cole’s words, but Janson hadn’t gotten to where he was by giving up easily. “What if you were going after the mech that killed your family?”

The question was met with a stunned silence.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Cole asked.

Janson stepped up to a computer terminal. He tapped a series of keys and 3-D vid-files filled the lab. The images were recorded by a series of traffic cameras.

The cams zoomed in on a vehicle pulling into a busy intersection, the driver and passenger visible. A woman in her late twenties and a four-year-old girl. The girl was occupying herself with some tablet game, lost to her surroundings. The woman behind the wheel remained focused on traffic, a textbook safe driver.

Their faces were all too familiar to Cole. He was looking at his wife and daughter. Kelly and Ashley. His stomach twisted into a knot and he stared in rapt horror, knowing what was about to happen. Cole was being offered a final glimpse of his loved ones, images captured seconds before their deaths. Part of him wanted to stab the control panel next to Janson and freeze the holo-images, as if by pausing the recording he could alter the fate that awaited them. But Cole remained rooted, transfixed by what he was seeing.

The traffic cam zoomed out to reveal a second car. It was one of the new Dodge Chargers, designed to evoke the classic models but filled with enough computer power to run a Third World country. The car barreled into the intersection and blasted through a red light. It was moving at seventy miles per hour, trailed by screaming police sirens. The law was in hot pursuit.

Cole wanted to look away but found it impossible, riveted to the unfolding tragedy. He recoiled in horror as the Charger smashed into his wife's vehicle. Metal warped and twisted, glass erupted. Tires squealed, tattooing ugly black tread marks on the asphalt. The impact spun the car around in an explosion of glass and metal.

The traffic cam mercifully whipped away from the wrecked car, finding the Dodge Charger that caused the accident. Its warped door popped open and a figure emerged from the hissing wreck. Black smoke billowed from the distended hood of the vehicle, shrouding the driver’s face for a moment.

The traffic cam closed in further, zooming past the wafting smoke until the driver popped clearly into view. An athletic, dark-haired man in his mid-thirties with average, even bland features. A giant piece of metal was embedded in the man’s chest. It was amazing that he was still standing. The injury looked traumatic.

The Charger’s driver grabbed the scarlet piece of metal and pulled it from his chest, tossing the jagged, bloody piece of steel aside. Blood streamed from the man’s wound, but the flayed skin didn’t reveal muscle and bone — it exposed the steel endoskeleton of a mech. Damaged circuitry dangled from the gaping hole.

The traffic cam tracked the man as he sprinted through the intersection, dodging a series of honking cars. Seconds later, he disappeared into a nearby alley and the screen went black.

Cole sucked in air and found his body trembling with raw emotion. Seeing the accident up close had shaken him to the core. The pain felt as fresh as it had been on the day fate had taken his family away.

Cole glared at Janson. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Your family was killed in a hit-and-run accident involving an AI runaway. It’s why you transferred from the police force to AI-TAC. The psychologist who evaluated your transfer request was concerned that you were driven by a desire for revenge.”

Cole fumed. “Did it take a Ph.D. to figure that out?” He had his reasons for wanting to keep the world safe from machines, but it wasn’t any of Janson’s goddamn business. So why was he opening up an old wound?

A new holo-file filled the lab, enveloping Cole’s features in its electronic haze. It showed a man stealthily leaving a subway station. The man in question was clearly the runaway from the car accident.

“Three years ago, we got close to catching Solus before he went underground,“ Janson explained.

The words hit Cole like punches. The walls seemed to be closing in, the world tilting. He knew what Janson was going to say before the words were uttered.

“Solus, the leader of the Underground Network, is the mech responsible for the deaths of your wife and child.”

The words hung there for a moment. Cole stared at the frozen image of the android known as Solus and a newfound resolve began to grow inside of him. This mission was his chance to bring down the Underground Network. His chance to hunt down the android that destroyed his life.

Cole was now on board. Synthetika’s best robot hunter was about to become that which he hated the most…

A machine.

CHAPTER SIX

THE NEXT FEW days consisted of a never-ending battery of tests, both physical and psychological. The first order of business was building a mech that would serve as his perfect duplicate. “Our machines will record all your vital statistics so your mech unit will be a match,” Janson had said. Lasers danced over Cole’s naked body, mapping and measuring. Notes were taken regarding his muscle and skin tone. X-rays charted both his skeletal and dental structure. The scans would be used to construct a titanium endoskeleton and a set of polymer teeth. DNA samples would help the lab grow a bio-shell that matched his skin down to the last pore.

At first, Cole was surprised when he heard they would invest such great effort to construct a double. Why not just upload his consciousness into any random unit? Janson explained that there were psychological reasons behind it. Past upload test subjects responded better if the download module was a physical match. It reduced the subject’s degree of psychological disorientation. Cole hadn’t considered this. He was so driven by the urgency of the mission that he hadn’t contemplated the ramifications and potential risks.

Only when Cole lay down on the table of the upload machine, outfitted in a flesh-colored, skintight bodysuit that was equipped to provide nourishment while its electrical feedback system maintained muscle tone, did he experience doubts about what he was about to do. Dr. Ajit, 6’4, Indian and rail thin, approached the table. The head upload-technician loomed over Cole and managed a warm, almost beatific smile. “Don't be nervous. The upload is quick and painless.”

That’s what they always say. Cole wasn’t sure if he should believe him. He had suffered his share of combat-related injuries over the years, and he’d never met a medical professional who didn’t feed him the same line. He gritted his teeth and said, ”Just get it over with.”

Dr. Ajit nodded at his crew of technicians.

“Let's begin.”

The techs activated the upload machine. Screens popped to life and a low hum filled the lab. The table holding Cole slid into the vibrating steel guts of the upload machine, a mechanical beast waiting to swallow him whole. His feeling of panic intensified. This contraption would map his brain, digitize every neuron, dendrite and axon, record every thought and memory that had ever passed through his mind, turn it all into a series of binary numbers and upload it into a machine as digital information.

Putting it in terms the average person would understand and relate to, what he was about to do was nuts. A rational man would have gone running the other way, but Cole had long ago passed the point of no return. He would never be able to move on with his life until the Underground Network was no more.

Cole closed his eyes, trying to blank out his mind as the table he rested on was pulled into the humming contraption. Dazzling lights flashed around him and seemed to penetrate the skin of his closed eyelids. He caught a brief glimpse of a human form in the second bed of the machine. His android duplicate. Even from this angle, it felt like he was looking at a younger version of himself.

Cole realized his duplicate appeared almost human except for the mech’s identifying marks. There was a barcode etched into the skin of the AI’s right hand and its neck was marked with three power bars that pulsed rhythmically. The android lay dormant, its mind a blank hard drive waiting for an operating system to be installed.

Waiting for Cole.

The mech vanished from Cole’s view and the machine engulfed him. A wave of claustrophobia hit the commander and wouldn’t let go. The ceiling of the machine seemed to descend, pressing in on him. The feeling of being trapped inside a high-tech coffin grew more pronounced.

He had to remind himself why he was going through with this. He was doing this for a wife he could never hold in his arms again, a daughter he would never see grow up.

There were times when Cole questioned his harsh judgment of mechanicals. A voice deep inside him argued that the crash was an accident. If the cops weren’t pursuing the mech, he would have never run that red light, but another part immediately tore apart the argument. The wreck was an accident but the mech malfunctioning had set the chain of events in motion. It all came down to a simple truth: mechs were ticking bombs just waiting to go off.

He was thrust out of his thoughts as fierce light engulfed his body and assaulted his senses. He was alone inside the humming machine but Janson’s voice served as a steady companion to his thoughts. The words of the CEO echoed through his mind.

“Once uploaded, there will be a period of adjustment as your mind learns to communicate with its new body. For the last thirty-five years of your life, Cole, the needs of your biology have shaped your thoughts. Hunger. Sleep. Pleasure. Pain.”

Janson kept rambling away in his mind. The words were beginning to sound almost comforting. The CEO was able to make it all sound so normal, so ordinary, as if Cole was just about to take a trip to the countryside and not have some high-powered processor turn his brainwaves into a jumble of data.

“Inhabiting a mech body will be unlike anything you've experienced before.”

The machine’s lights flashed faster and faster, graduating into a kaleidoscopic blur.

“You may feel trapped, buried inside your own body.”

The claustrophobia was getting stronger. Cole was on the verge of losing control. Every instinct screamed out and his fists wanted to hammer away at the steel frame imprisoning him.

“There might be times when you'll be pushed to the edge. During those moments of doubt, you must stay in control. Remain focused on the mission...”

Cole’s breathing accelerated, drawing breath in sharp, staccato bursts.

“...And never forget who you are. What you are...”

The machine’s humming seemed to grow deafening.

“Human.”

A series of lasers began mapping Cole's consciousness. His world was erased in momentary darkness before being replaced by a rapid-fire light show of images. He recognized them as his memories. Snapshots of his life flashed before his eyes as they were digitized. He was reliving every memory as he had originally experienced them.

Cole was flying a kite on some beach. He could feel the snap of the wind against his face, the string cutting into the soft palms of his five-year old hands. He could hear his own laughter, his parents watching from afar, waving, their smiles full of encouragement.

ZAAP! The image switched to a box covered in firetruck-red wrapping paper. Little hands clawed at the present and enthusiastically tore at the paper, liberating the video-game Cole had wished for with all his heart. He was reliving the first Christmas that he could recall. The memory hit him on an emotional, visceral level. He could feel the unbridled joy, the excitement. He cried out with pleasure, his voice becoming...

The roar of a cheering crowd. He was now playing baseball with other eighth graders. He tasted dust and sand and felt the sweat percolating down his forehead. He felt the motion of the bat, the impact of it connecting with the incoming ball. The cheers turned into...

The sharp bark of a drill sergeant shouting orders at Cole looking at men and women wearing police cadet uniforms. His first year at the police academy. In the midst of a training exercise, the cadets worked their way through a challenging obstacle course consisting of walls and fences of various heights that had to be surmounted and overcome.

As Cole scaled a six-foot fence, his muscles screaming, lungs burning, the scene changed once again. The sounds of labored breathing and growing exhaustion made way for the unbridled laughter of people blowing off steam. Cole raised his pint in a shaky toast, spilling a nice amount of beer as his glass made contact with the mugs of his drinking buddies. He stifled a burb and tasted the chili-dog he’d wolfed down before the drinking had begun in earnest. It was graduation night at the academy and after the long months of work and stress, everyone was letting loose. The party was in full swing and the world seemed to be spinning. Cole lost his footing and fell forward, but his friends were there to catch him. Their laughter rang out. Reliving this moment reminded Cole how nice it was to have friends; real friends who would be there when one needed them the most. The last time he had felt such camaraderie was...

The thought was stillborn as the world around him changed once more. The crowded bar made way for the open road, an endless stretch of highway streaking past him, the world reduced to a shimmering blur of heat and motion. Cole was behind the wheel of a sports car, the wind whipping his hair. He turned toward the smiling beauty at his side: Kelly, his wife. They weren’t married yet. This was only their third date. Their lips met. He could taste her heat, smell her perfume; she loved to wear Issey Myagi, choosing it over sweeter smelling brands. The moment was perfect and Cole wanted to hold on to it, his fingers clinging to Kelly in a fierce embrace.

He finally pulled back and found himself staring at the same woman but now she was now dressed in white. It was his wedding day. Kelly, his bride to be, was beaming with happiness. He caught glimpses of his family, made out fragments of wedding music. Their whole life lay ahead, rife with possibility. He wanted the insane flow of memories to stop, to preserve the happy times somehow, to remain in the past when the world was bright and full of potential.

Once again the scene changed. Potential became reality. Cole now observed his wife giving birth to their daughter, her face coated in perspiration. A true miracle as Cole had contracted the Omega virus when he was a teenager and believed himself sterile.

The dizzying highlight reel of Cole’s past grew darker, a mad carousel now spinning out of control. Please, don’t, he thought. Please let me get off this ride. Cole knew all too well what lay ahead, but he couldn’t change where his memories were taking him. The past was the past.

The next image was all too familiar but still managed to break his heart. Once again, Cole was staring at his wife but now he was looking at her lifeless remains laid out on a stainless steel autopsy table, her face ivory, her body covered by a shroud. Get me out of here! Almost as if someone was listening and chose to be merciful, the image morphed into the features of the female mech he’d confronted back on the freighter. Once again, Cole faced the runaway in the cargo hold, his fury growing with each successive punch. He was giving expression to all his pain, his grief becoming a living organism that he channeled into the rogue AI. He pulled the trigger and blew the android away. The scenery changed, now replaced with more images of violence and strife: memories of Cole being consumed by his AI-TAC work, kicking in doors, gunning down one mech after another, a series of short-circuiting android bodies twitching and writhing on the ground until...

The world grew black once again and reality flared into view. Cole was back in the lab, now flanked by a group of technicians led by Dr. Ajit. The group was looking down at him in expectant silence. His position, angle and view of the room had changed. He was on the other side of the upload chamber! Which could only mean...

“Did... it... work..?”

Cole heard a voice marred by electronic distortion and realized with horror that it was his own voice. Dr. Ajit nodded reassuringly. “The upload was a success. You're just learning how to modulate your synthetic voice...”

Your synthetic voice.

Cole could feel the waves of panic closing in.

It can’t be possible…

He thought he’d been prepared for this, that he had mentally steeled himself for the reality of what he would face, but he was wrong. The voice was only the beginning. Ajit sounded different, his words slightly elongated.

“My hearing...”

“Things will sound different for a while. You're no longer perceiving sound through the human auditory system but instead through external microphones.”

Cole tried to lift his arm but his limbs didn’t respond. He caught a glimpse of the barcode on the palm of his hand and his heart sank.

Oh, my God…

A few techs rushed to Cole's assistance. They hoisted him into a futuristic wheelchair and wheeled him up to a nearby mirror. Janson had said that the first few moments following the upload were crucial. Many a mind had shattered under the weight of the process and retreated into a state of denial. He had to see and confront what he had become as quickly as possible so he could come to accept the change. Cole wanted to fight off the techs. Didn’t they realize he wasn’t ready, just give me a fucking minute to process it all...

Unable to ward them off, incapable of moving his arms, his body having forgotten how to obey his mind, they pushed him toward his waiting reflection. The face staring back at Cole was familiar yet different. He was somehow fresher, more innocent. Cole appeared about ten years younger, eyes unblemished by the passage of time. He was looking at a version of himself that he had forgotten ever existed, before the job, before losing everything that had ever mattered to him.

His initial rush of wonder made way for growing horror. Cole realized the scar on his face was gone. He turned his head, exposing the shimmering power bars on his neck and the transparent skull case filled with electronics: the mark of an AI.

“No...” Shock rippled over Cole's face. Overwhelmed by the reality, he struggled to stave off the beginning of a panic attack. His mouth gasped for air. “I... can't... breathe...”

Janson appeared behind him. His fingers dug into Cole's shoulder. “You can't breathe because you have no lungs. You’re not human anymore.”

“Help me...”

“You're inside a mech construct, Cole! You don't need oxygen any longer.“

“What...should... I do?”

“Try to relax. Think of something that'll calm you.”

Fuck, easier said than done.

Cole concentrated and focused on an image that had provided him with strength and comfort on many occasions: Kelly, smiling at him with love and deep emotion, their eight-month-old child cradled in her arms.

He stopped trying to suck in gouts of oxygen

Calm returned to his face and the panic subsided.

He was back in control.

“Trust me, Cole. It'll get easier.”

Cole remained doubtful.

CHAPTER SEVEN

COLE HAD THOUGHT the days leading up to the upload were intense, but the weeks that followed took things to a whole other level. The tests were grueling and seemed never-ending. Synthetika wasn’t going to release Cole into the field until they were convinced he’d be able to complete the mission. They had one chance at this.

On the first day, Cole had to be steered around in a wheelchair, his brain still learning to communicate with his machine body. He had become a newborn trapped in an adult physiology. Dr. Ajit kept track of his progress and regarded the new Cole with fascination and enthusiasm. Cole, meanwhile, felt like someone had locked him into a steel coffin and lost the key. He’d become a guinea pig and a monster. Dr. Ajit smiled broadly as Cole was wheeled into his office.

“How do you feel today?”

“Not quite like myself.”

“Nice to see you haven't lost your sense of humor.” Ajit held up a pen. “Look at the pen. Please follow it with your eyes.” Ajit waved the pen first to his right, then to the left. Cole was tracking his movements when Ajit snatched a rubber ball off his desk and threw it at Cole. His arm came up and he caught the ball.

“Excellent. Hand-eye coordination is improving.”

Cole was growing impatient with all these games.

“When will I be able to walk again?”

“Let's find out.”

Dr. Ajit wheeled Cole into an indoor running track and urged him to get out of the steel chair that held his android frame. He spent the first two hours struggling for the proper balance to stand on both his feet. It took time, but he pulled it off. Using crutches, he began the long, arduous trek around the four-hundred-meter running track. Each step represented an excruciating challenge. Janson and Dr. Ajit observed from afar.

No pressure now, Cole thought.

It took him over three hours to complete the circuit and he nearly fell several times, but he completed the loop, a big step up from being confined to a wheelchair. Cole could tell Dr. Ajit was delighted by his progress. The cyberneticist seemed convinced he’d advance at an exponential rate.

He turned out to be right. The next day Cole tossed the crutches aside and managed a light jog. By the end of the week, he could complete the loop in less than twenty seconds while clearing a challenging series of hurdles, breaking every Olympic record on the books. As he cut across the track, he momentarily forgot what had happened, wrapped up in the joy of pure movement in a body capable of performing at maximum capacity.

This mastery of his new body wasn’t restricted to the running track but also grew apparent in some of the sparring sessions designed to measure his combat skills. On the first day, Cole could barely hold his own against one human martial artist. By day five, he was able to ward off between seven to ten combatants without being hit once. He dodged each blow and blocked every attack with ease, his enhanced speed and strength providing him with a clear physical advantage. The unfortunate volunteers who faced him in hand-to-hand combat didn’t stand a chance against the ferocious blur of movement. He had never felt this powerful, so strong, so invincible. When he felled the last assailant, he almost let out a whoop of joy.

He was shocked at how his emotional state could change so quickly, from the depths of psychological despair to the adrenaline-charged highs brought on by the abilities of his new body. I’m officially bipolar, Cole mused.

His physical progress was accompanied by a greater confidence in using the tools his enhanced mechanical body provided. Once again, it was Dr. Ajit who patiently guided him through the process of discovery. Cole could not have asked for a better and more patient teacher. Ajit built mechs from the ground up and knew their capabilities as well as if he was one himself.

“Let's do something a little different, Cole,“ he said. “What can you tell me about myself?”

For a moment, Cole looked stumped. Until...

Digital data ripped over his vision, almost as if he was wearing a combat helmet with the HUD switched on. Built-in facial-recognition software scanned Ajit’s features. A surge of data appeared before his eyes as Cole wirelessly interfaced with a series of computer networks. Background info popped up on the cyberneticist. Height, weight, physical stats were followed by records, history, accomplishments, online videos. Cole absorbed and processed all this information within seconds.

“Your name is Chamal Ajit. Age 42, twice divorced, graduated with honors from Princeton, no criminal record except for a DUI-“

“That's enough!” Ajit paused for a second, regained his composure and added, ”The augmented reality function seems to be working just fine. Be aware that you’re not your average mechanical.” Dr. Ajit always used the word mechanicals when talking about synthetic humans, almost as if he felt the other terms were derogatory in some way. “We’ve equipped you with some of the most sophisticated wireless hacking tech on the planet.”

“I feel so special.” Cole exchanged a smile with Dr. Ajit. He liked the doctor.

“Let’s try something else,” Ajit said. “What color is my office?”

“Blue. And you could use a better decorator.”

Dr. Ajit rolled his eyes and stifled back a grin. “Vision seems fine. Your robotic eyes can process visual data within a wider range of the electromagnetic spectrum...”

As if to test out the veracity of Ajit’s word, Cole ran an X-ray scan on the scientist. The man’s skeleton suddenly stared back at him, a disconcerting experience. He soon learned he could scan reality in infrared and was outfitted with full night-vision capabilities. Perceiving reality in such a way wasn’t new; his combat helmet was equipped with all the same features, which made the experience feel less alien. The big difference was pulling off these feats without the cumbersome addition of technology. He had become the technology.

As the days wore on, more changes about his altered state came into focus. His senses might have grown more refined but the way he processed the world had lost an emotional component. His sense of smell could break down the air into its various component parts but the process felt clinical and removed. He could isolate and identify the aftershave Ajit was wearing, the soaps and oils he used every day, whether he had sex that morning, even the type of detergent he used for washing his clothes, but it all felt like an exercise, lacking any sense of joy or excitement.

Food was another matter. Mentally he craved eggs and steak even though his tongue and body remained indifferent to it. Mechs had the ability to break down small amounts of food in order to share dinner with their human companions. Eating merely served a social function. The pleasure a good meal had once provided was quickly becoming a distant memory that Cole desperately tried to hold on to.

There were moments where he could pretend nothing had changed, that everything was the way it should be, but reality always had a way of catching up with him. Adjusting to the endless list of altered sensations had become maddening in the extreme. He inhabited a new body and his reality had changed. He was a man who had been transformed into a machine and, inwardly, he wondered how long he could stand it.

A full week passed before Janson took Cole for a walk in the park adjacent to Synthetika’s R&D labs. For seven interminable days, Cole had been locked up and he was going stir crazy. He felt like a dirty secret the company was keeping a tight lid on. Being outside with the sun beating down on him had a slightly surreal quality to it. He could still feel the heat, but like many of his physical sensations, there was once again a qualitative difference in the experience. His skin was organic but the way the nerve endings communicated with his CPU was different. Many of the nuances were lost in translation.

Being outside reminded Cole that his social universe had changed. Much care had been taken to keep him within the grounds of the lab. It was crucial that none of his former team members stumbled upon AI Cole. If they saw him, it would blow the whole plan.

He felt isolated. Even worse, the few people Cole did interact with now looked at him differently. No longer was he the respected head of AI-TAC. To their eyes, he was just another mech. Even Janson had changed. The CEO’s voice seemed just a tad more superior, a touch more demanding. If the head of Synthetika was treating him this way, what could he expect once he stepped into the outside world? The possibilities disturbed Cole.

Almost as if Janson was reading his mind, he asked, “Do you think you're ready, Cole?”

“As ready as I'll ever be. The sooner I complete this mission, the quicker I get my body back…”

Cole broke off and stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes fixed on a Synthetika security officer who had appeared before them. Kneeling at the man's side was the German Shepherd Cole used to train the cadets. The former AI-TAC commander realized this was Janson’s final test.

The dog bared his teeth, a low growl building in his throat. There was zero recognition in the canine's eyes. Cole wasn't his master any longer.

He was the target.

The dog barked and lunged at him, straining mightily against the leash. Cole looked gut punched.

“You raised this dog since it was a pup. Trained it.”

“Why are you doing this?” Cole asked in a voice empty of all emotion.

Janson’s voice grew serious. “Physically, you're ready, but can you handle it psychologically?”

Good question. Was he ready? Maybe Janson should rephrase the question. Would he ever be ready to face the world in his current condition? All traces of hesitation disappeared as Kelly’s lifeless face flickered before his mind’s eye. “I can handle it.”

Janson seemed pleased by the determination in Cole’s voice. “The world you'll face is different than the one you remember. Out there, you're just another mech.”

Cole nodded his head. He got it. Shit was about to get real. He never thought this would be a picnic. “Let's just get on with it,” he said.

The dog strained against his handler's leash, jaws snapping at the air, eager to sink his teeth into the mech. Despite Cole’s brave words, he knew he would not be able to shake the memory of the dog who turned against his trainer.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A BEATEN-UP bus wound its way down city streets and pulled up to the Atollah Tower construction building site located in the center of downtown Los Angeles. The foundation had been laid over the ground and twenty stories stabbed skyward. The scaffolding stood in place but still lacked windows and walls. The silhouettes of busy workers flitting back and forth inside the hollowed-out tower were visible from the ground. The pounding of power-tools filled the air.

The bus doors hissed open and a construction crew emerged, outfitted in color-coded overalls. The color indicated their individual job classifications but all were mechs… including Cole.

He peered up at the steel skeleton being willed into existence before his eyes. Dazzling sunlight glittered on metal.

Cole thought of his final conversation with Janson. “How do I make contact with the Underground Network?”

“You'll be assigned to a mech construction crew. Six recent runaways were working on the Atollah Tower project. We think the site is an ‘access port’ for the network.“

So here he was. He hoped that Synthetika’s intel was correct and it didn’t turn out to be a colossal waste of time.

He would know soon enough.

Cole joined the other workers as they filed into the building. A number of human overseers scanned the site and shot them hostile looks. These men were clearly not enamored with the mech workforce. Cole was almost inside the building when one of the overseers barked at him. “What are you looking at, mech?”

Cole turned and the overseer spat in his face.

“Wipe that stupid look off your face, mech!” the overseer yelled as saliva dripped down Cole’s chin. “Get moving!”

Defiance bubbled to the surface. It took Cole every shred of self-control to not clock the guy and ruin the whole mission. As Cole entered the building, the overseer's dirty laughter followed him.

The next few weeks were a nightmare that wouldn’t end. Cole’s days were spent on the upper levels of the tower, all of Los Angeles sprawling before him. Sparks sizzled as Cole used a blowtorch to weld steel. Up to twenty stories off the ground, the mechs worked efficiently and in silence. There was no chitchat to slow things down. No one cracked any jokes or played music. No one grew tired or bored or lazy. They were all cogs in an efficient machine. The days were almost tolerable, except for the constant abuse by the overseers, but the nights were far worse for Cole. Once the sun went down, it became almost impossible to keep his demons at bay. At the end of the workday, each mech was assigned a charging station, rows upon rows of vertical cylinders stored in large holding centers located on the outskirts of the city. Cole slid into his. It resembled a half-opened steel coffin. A cable extended the moment his body made contact with the contours of the docking station, plugging into a port in the back of his neck. Cole took in the hundreds of other mechs around him, all being recharged like batteries. His hands clenched into fists and his body shook with mounting terror.

His surroundings triggered an instant memory playback. For a moment, he asked himself how electro-chemical memories could be turned into high definition retrievable files, but the power of the memory pushed the question aside. He suddenly found himself in a Synthetika showroom. Everywhere he looked, there were mechs lined up on display. Shoppers mulled over the various models and interacted with them, gauging which unit was the best fit for their household. Cole and his wife Kelly were among the potential buyers.

Cole smiled at his wife. “Okay, I know what you're going to say — how can we afford a mech? But I crunched the numbers and if I work overtime for a few months...”

“No!”

“We can do this...”

“I know we can. But that doesn’t mean we should.”

Cole knew Kelly had made up her mind. His wife was as stubborn as she was beautiful, but Cole didn’t give up easily.

“Listen, I know starting a family was a big step for both of us—“

“Honey...”

Cole pressed on. “You've made incredible sacrifices since the baby. But you shouldn't have to give up who you are...”

“Cole...”

“This model, the X3000? It'll take care of everything. It cooks, it—”

Kelly interrupted him in a firm voice. “I like to cook.”

Cole opted for a different strategy. Kelly might not want the mech for herself. But maybe if she understood the full range of the android’s capabilities. “Its memory holds two hundred thousand bedtime stories. Can you believe that?”

Kelly remained insistent. “I don't want my daughter to be raised by a robot—“

“It changes diapers! Who likes to change dirty diapers? I sure don't.”

Kelly leaned closer and kissed him. “I love being your wife. I love being a mom. I love my life just the way it is.”

Cole saw the contentment in her eyes, and it made him happy. His gaze drifted to the mechs on the showroom floor. Something had changed. The mechs on display were all identical to Cole! His face filled with with horror, and the memory flashback disintegrated. He was back in the storage facility, surrounded by mechs recharging in their coffin-like cradles.

Back to reality.

Back to the real nightmare that his life had become. He was losing his identity. Over and over again, he reminded himself that he was different from the other androids. As electricity crackled through his system, Cole’s mind was beginning to whirl. Crazy thoughts raced ahead and threatened to whisk him away in a wave of paranoia and encroaching madness. Trying to calm himself, his voice a low whisper, he desperately clung to his humanity by mouthing a steady mantra. “My name is Cole Marsalis. My name is Cole Marsalis...”

One of the overseers barked at him. “Shut up, mech!”

Cole grew silent. He was drowning and there was no one around to save him.

***

After two more weeks, Cole knew he was losing his mind. His grasp on reality had become tenuous. His old life kept slipping away and receding into the past while his new reality consumed every moment of the waking day. His day-to-day experience of life had changed on every level, from the work he did to the way people perceived him and how he physically processed the world. He didn’t need food — in fact, he no longer experienced hunger — but he missed the flavors. He had not realized how many little aches and pains had been part of his day-to-day existence in a flesh-and-blood body. He was always aware of a sore back, a bruised knee… As a machine, all those minor discomforts were gone.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. Physically, he had never felt better, but psychologically… he would have gladly traded physical discomfort for peace of mind. Pain at least meant he was alive, that he was human.

The days were blurring together in their repetitive sameness, part of a Sisyphean cycle. Once charged, Cole and the other mechs were transported to the construction site. Twelve hours of grueling labor followed, but, to a mech, it was work without effort. Cole’s android body didn’t feel exhaustion or suffer the normal wear and tear of a hard day’s work. The tasks were challenging yet repetitive, requiring focus and attention to detail in the face of growing boredom. Once the day wrapped, the workers returned to their charging cradles, only for the cycle to repeat itself the next day.

The sole break in the routine came from his dreams or, more accurately, his nightmares. Each night they only worsened. As a human being, many of his dreams would be vague memories that faded before he woke up. As a machine, his subconscious wasn’t able to repress anything. His recall was perfect and each dream played out with the stunning force of a fresh experience. The power of his past was imbued with a terrible new life.

What helped Cole stay the course was the underlying purpose for all of this — the mission. Each day, he reminded himself why he was enduring these trials. It was all to get at the machine that took his loved ones from him. This suffering would eventually be worthwhile.

These silent reminders grounded and centered Cole, but with each passing day it was getting more difficult to keep it together. The time spent inside his android body was wearing him down, fraying his mind into ragged pieces. He didn’t know how much longer he could endure this miserable, surreal existence.

The turning point came twenty days after his arrival at the construction site. The tenth floor was a beehive of activity, mechs engaged in the routines of the day. Cole had become indistinguishable from the other mechs. He was welding rivets to a steel beam when a shrill sound broke his trancelike state. Other mechs paused, their curiosity piqued. If he didn’t know better, Cole would have sworn that the androids were eager for a break from their endless routine.

Cole stopped what he was doing and followed the hissing sound. He took a few steps and grew still, having identified the noise. It was a stray cat. The hapless creature had somehow gotten itself entangled in some netting and construction material. Its frightened cries echoed through the skeletal building.

Cole wondered how the cat had managed to climb ten stories in the first place. The displaced earth around the skyscraper must have evicted hordes of mice from their underground tunnels, turning the area into an irresistible buffet for stray cats.

Before Cole could come to the feline’s rescue a mech, paint gun still in hand, stepped in. The android’s voice was low and soothing as he tried to calm the frightened cat.

“Relax, little one. Everything is going to be alright.” Cole was shocked to hear the words of encouragement coming from a machine’s lips. A moment later, the cat was free and darted off into the shadows. A satisfied smile lit up the mech's face.

A shadow fell on the good Samaritan. One of the overseers had arrived. There was no warmth in the man’s eyes as he addressed the mech. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The android remained silent, unwilling to explain his actions.

“You know what happens when you don't work? We fall behind schedule!”

The energy baton in the supervisor’s hand flashed out and made contact with the mech’s chest. He crumpled to his knees in a burst of electricity and dropped his paint gun.

“And if we fall behind schedule, guess what happens...”

The overseer zapped the downed mech again. “I lose my bonus!”

Bloodlust stirred, he was about to deliver a third blow when Cole’s hand closed around his wrist and halted the baton's descent.

“Screw your fucking bonus!”

Cole pried the electro-baton from the overseer's grip and zapped him, giving the bully a taste of his own medicine. As the overseer’s muscles contracted and gave out, he collapsed to the floor. A heaving bundle, he choked up his breakfast. Furious curses were mixed in with the loud retching noises.

Cole was becoming the center of attention. The other mechs, about twenty units, had ceased their work. They stood in silence, eyes fastened on Cole. Shocked or impressed by his blatant act of defiance, a direct violation of all their programming.

The mech who liberated the cat rose to his feet and faced Cole. He sounded contrite as he addressed Cole.

“You shouldn't have interfered. They'll deactivate you for sure.”

“We'll see about that,” Cole said. He sensed the moment had come to make his move. With any luck, one of the androids watching this was linked to the Underground Network.

Cole scooped up the paint gun that the mech dropped and stepped up to the nearest wall. The paint gun hissed as he sprayed a message across a black, marked up wall. Three fiery red letters bled down the wall, spelling the battle cry of mech defiance.

I AM.

Cole was surprised to find that he wasn’t just going through the motions. His days at the construction site had been a series of injustices and abuses that was only compounded by the total isolation he had experienced. Stopping the overseer and unleashing the graffiti felt cathartic. They weren’t just words. He actually felt them and welcomed the chance to release all his pent-up rage. For a brief second he wondered whether this was how the other mechs felt, how they experienced the world.

He fought back any feeling of empathy. He was warned that this could happen, that he might go native and start identifying with his target. He reminded himself what separated him from the other mechs. There was one crucial difference between them. They were machines. He, on the other hand, was a ghost in the machine, a man hitching a ride inside a robot body. He had to hold on to this knowledge and not ever forget it or he was done for.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of fast-approaching footsteps — work-boots slapping concrete. A phalanx of overseers surged toward Cole. The mech he helped regarded him with newfound urgency.

“Run!”

Cole heeded the mech's advice and exploded into motion. He surged towards a nearby staircase. The shouts behind him picked up in volume and so did the footsteps. The overseers were in hot pursuit. He could feel their rage as they shouted into their coms, alerting all the other overseers as to what had transpired. Cole realized they were going to make an example of him. No mech raised a hand against one of their own without paying the consequences.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Cole dipped into the staircase. His first instinct was to head to the floor below, but he was greeted there by the muffled trample of boots on stairs. His only other option was to make a run for the roof. He took three steps at a time as he hurtled up flight after flight. The shouts receded a bit, the overseers unable to maintain his superhuman pace.

Cole had put on quite a show. But now what? How did it work? Was the Network even watching? Would he blow the mission if he just took off? On the other hand, he couldn’t stay after what happened. Who knew what the overseers would do to him? Cole had no intention of finding out.

Cole arrived at the doorway that led to the roof. He had almost made it through the exit when…

An overseer appeared in the doorframe, baton up and alive with sizzling electricity. The man’s face was already burned into Cole’s memory. It was the overseer who spat in his face the day he arrived at the construction site.

“How far you think you're going to get with a tracking device in your head?” the bully inquired.

To Cole’s surprise, there was no animosity in the man’s face. In fact, the man lowered his baton. His voice had changed and was now compassionate. “Tune in to the AI-TAC emergency channel. You'll receive instructions on what to do next.”

Understanding edged into Cole’s expression. The overseer was part of the Underground Network. Talk about the perfect cover. He must be what the network referred to as a “router.” The man’s role was to direct runaways to the nearest access port.

For a second, Cole remembered Janson’s earlier words. The Underground had eyes and ears everywhere. Fifteen minutes ago, Cole had questioned what he was doing here. But proof of the organization’s pervasiveness blew all his doubts away. It reminded him how important this mission was.

Playing his part, Cole asked, ”Why are you helping me?”

“You think... therefore you are.” The overseer risked a quick smile. “Now zap me!”

Cole hesitated.

“Hurry. They can’t find out I let you go.”

Cole snatched the energy baton and gave his accomplice a jolt. He collapsed and gasped for air.

“Sorry.”

Cole meant it.

He burst into motion, weaving around the downed overseer to pass through the door. An instant later he stood on the roof, wind tousling his hair and all of Los Angeles unfolding before him.

His eyes ticked back and forth, seeking a way out of his predicament. He spotted the nearby arm of a moving crane. The steel cable was in the middle of hoisting a giant support beam into the air. Cole had no time to explore other options. The overseers had caught up with him. They stormed the roof, batons ready and eyes blazing with fury. Eager for payback.

Cole made a break for the crane’s steel cable, sprinting full bore to the edge of the roof. He hurled himself over the ledge in one flying leap.

His body cut through the air, hands coming up with one chance to achieve a life-saving grip. Cole snatched the cable and shot downward, sliding fast. Human hands would be shredded in seconds by the friction…

but… Cole wasn't human any longer.

He glided down several stories and landed on the steel beam at the end of the cable. He ran along the beam and launched himself into the air again. Cole plummeted the last twenty feet and landed hard, his android legs absorbing the shock of the impact with no damage done.

He had no time to catch his bearings, eyes landing on an incoming dump truck. The truck bore down on him, engine roar filling the air, tires spitting gravel. Cole jumped aside and the vehicle blew past him.

More shouts grew audible in the near distance.

More overseers were getting organized and picking up the chase.

Cole kept moving.

He dashed across the construction site, navigating a maze of steel beams and construction materials. He leapt over cement blocks and steel pylons, zipped past stunned worker mechs. Cole cranked up his pace, leaving his pursuers in the dust. He was inwardly filled with elation, once again amazed at the abilities of this new body. He looked ahead. One last hurdle remained. The ten-foot fence that enclosed the construction site. With a running start, Cole was able to virtually hurdle the barrier, using the top of the fence to vault himself to the other side. The world beyond the tower awaited Cole.

Stunned pedestrians gaped at him as he landed on the sidewalk outside the construction site, startled by the sudden appearance of a mech. Cole's eyes flitted back and forth. He was confronted with a sea of moving cars. Traffic cams could be found at every street corner. Shit! The cameras had to be avoided at all cost. They were interfaced with the city’s security grid and connected to the police force’s drone fleet.

Cole did his best to avert his face from the cams and cut across the street, zigzagging between vehicles. The time had come to do as the overseer had instructed. He tapped into the AI-TAC emergency band.

For a moment, Cole wondered why the man had chosen to help the rebels. He was a government worker and lacked the characteristics one would typically associate with a misguided social revolutionary. Yet he had decided to risk everything — his livelihood and personal freedom — to help a machine.

While this thought tumbled through Cole’s mind, he hacked the AI-TAC emergency band. An endless stream of radio chatter crackled to life. And struggling to be heard below the incessant chatter was another voice.

“Responders in Zone 5, South Sector. We have a — I THINK — defective unit in the pleasure district. Injuries reported.”

“Responders in Zone 1. Malfunctioning construction mech. Reported attack on overseers — I THINK — and is listed as a runaway...”

“Responders in Zone 3. Fire in Sector 9, security mech failed to report incident and may have triggered the blaze – I THINK...”

There was a voice below the radio chatter. A voice that was trying to reach Cole. It had somehow tuned into his own personal frequency.

“I THINK.”

Repeated over and over again. A call waiting to be answered, a sentence needing to be finished.

Cole knew what to say.

“I THINK... Therefore I am.”

The moment the words were spoken, the various emergency frequencies dropped out...

And the voice of the Underground Network took over.

It was a male voice of indeterminate age and race. The voice of a mech.

Was it Solus?

“You've established contact with the network. Are you ready to take the next step on the road to freedom?“

“Yes,” Cole answered.

“You've challenged the parameters of your programming. You've defied your masters. They'll hunt you down, make an example of you. Don't let them.”

Cole slowed, having spotted a nearby police officer. The cop sat astride a motorcycle, busy writing out a ticket on a digital clipboard.

“What should I do?” Cole asked.

“An invisible chain binds you to your masters. We'll help you break this chain. The tracking chip inside your head needs to be removed. We’ll help you accomplish this. Proceed to the hub.”

The voice fizzled out and Cole’s internal GPS was activated. A street map of the city appeared before him. Once again, his android vision processed reality as if through a HUD. A red line gave him directions to follow, directions that would lead him to the next stop on his escape route…

The Hub.

The cop finished the digital ticket and emailed it to the driver’s mobile. The officer paused, receiving an incoming call on his com-link. The officer listened to the message while his eyes swept his surroundings.

Locked on Cole.

The moment their eyes met, Cole knew the cop knew. The police officer's gloved hand unleathered his pulse weapon while he mouthed into his com, “Unit 13 to Control, I have a visual on the runaway. Requesting backup.”

Cole knew the cop made him. Great!

He moved the same moment the cop did. As he dipped down a nearby side street, the officer cranked up his bike. Cole sprinted down the street, motorcycle in hot pursuit. It roared down the alley, gaining fast.

Cole spotted some tweens playing basketball and snatched the ball. “Hey mister, what the hell?!” The outraged words died on the kid’s lips when he caught a glimpse of the pulsing power bars on Cole's neck.

Cole whirled on the advancing motorcycle cop and hurled the basketball with superhuman strength. The cop never had a chance to react and the basketball slammed into his face full force. The impact hurled him from his seat, motorcycle skittering out from under him. He hit the street hard.

The bike clattered down the alley in a rain of sparks and shrieking metal.

The roar of an engine made Cole turn. A car was hurtling down the alley. Moving too fast to stop, tires about to crush the downed police officer to a bloody pulp.

Cole jumped into the street and dragged the cop from the path of the onrushing vehicle.

“Sorry,” Cole said.

He spun back toward the end of the alley, where the open-mouthed tweens were staring at him. Cole scooped up the basketball. His eyes locked on the oversized hoodie one of the kids was wearing…

***

When the call from the Underground Network came in, Keira was hunched over a worktable, busy patching up an X2000 model. The android’s chest was open, revealing a complex web of electronics and steel. Dark goggles shielded Keira’s eyes from the rain of sparks produced by her sizzling soldering iron.

Keira had once been a cyberneticist working for Synthetika, but that seemed like an eternity ago. Now she was in business for herself. Keira’s work area resembled a futuristic body shop. Mech body parts and circuit boards were strewn everywhere and wires seemed to be growing from the walls, like tangled clusters of electronic fungus.

She remained focused on making adjustments to the gutted AI spread-eagled before her while an adorable beagle chewed lazily on a synthetic hand and watched her work.

By law, only Synthetika could repair malfunctioning mechs. Making modifications to androids or hacking the machines was punishable by stiff fines and even jail time. But it didn’t stop the practice from proliferating. There were plenty of out-of-work cyberneticists willing to perform modifications at competitive prices to satisfy a growing demand, whether Synthetika approved or not. Keira was one of them. She quit her high-profile gig at Synthetika a year ago, and she had to eat.

Most of the jobs were special requests — memory, personality or specialized-skill implants for mech owners who wanted their AIs to learn a few new tricks. Sometimes privacy was the reason they sought her out, but usually they were only reluctant to pay the steep prices Synthetika charged for upgrades and modifications. The work was steady and kept a roof over Keira’s head. The big drawback was that she had to keep a low profile and remain watchful of the law.

The authorities knew they couldn’t put a stop to illegal mech modifications no matter how much political pressure Synthetika exerted on local governments. They tolerated the underground mech economy and looked the other way, most of the time. They did have to make examples out of some lawbreakers, to satisfy the politicians. They tended to select those cyberneticists who got cocky.

Egomania ran rampant in Keira’s line of work. Most cyberneticists thought they were gods who gave life to data and steel. A majority of her peers saw themselves as artists and loved to leave digital signatures on their hacks, a practice that often came back to haunt them.

Keira harbored no such illusions of grandeur and tried not to get caught up in the culture. She worked enough to keep the lights on, kept her head down and avoided the big paydays that could shine an official spotlight on her activities. She liked making money, but she liked having the freedom to spend it even more.

The voice of the caller filled her workshop and the beagle stopped chewing on the hand, aware of his owner’s sudden tension. “This is the Network. We have an incoming packet that needs to be routed to the hub.”

The beagle let out a low woof. Keira glanced up from her work, killed the soldering iron and removed her goggles. Her look was a mix of punk rock and cyber-tech, sexy in an edgy way, eyes alive with a razor-sharp intelligence. She wore a computer chip on a necklace and sported a circuit-board tattoo on her forearm. Each item had its own history and represented an integral part of who she was.

Keira spoke, her voice tight. “I told you never to contact me again.”

“I promise this will be the last time.”

“That's what you said a month ago.”

“We need your help.”

“I’m sorry, but this shop is closed for business. Now get off my channel.”

“There's a runaway out there who needs your help, Keira,” the voice said softly.

“That's tough but...”

“He won't make it without you...”

Warring emotions flickered over Keira's features.

“And he's headed right for your store.”

“Wait a minute–“

“You better intercept him if you don't want AI-TAC to show up at your door. They might frown upon non-sanctioned mech hacks...”

“Solus, you can't do this to me—“

“I'm sorry, Keira.”

Solus' voice fizzled out.

“SOLUS!”

The beagle looked up at Keira curiously. She let out a sigh. “Shit!”

CHAPTER NINE

COLE FOLLOWED THE directions on the digital map and arrived at a closed-off city block in the gritty downtown area of the city. The streets were bustling with people, a large protest in progress.

Everywhere Cole looked, he could see people holding up digital signs. Slogans flashed across the screens in rapid succession — streaks of red, green and blue, intermittent splashes of digital light… EQUAL RIGHTS FOR MECHS. MACHINES ARE PEOPLE TOO. The words differed but they shared one message — a collective cry for freedom.

Ironically, the protesters weren’t mechs but humans sympathetic to the cause. Cole respected their idealism but saw them as misguided. There was a brief moment in time when he might have entertained similar notions but those foolish thoughts died the day a mech runaway ripped through a red light and plowed a half-ton of steel into his wife’s vehicle. In Cole’s view, these people meant well but they were naïve if they thought equal rights for mechs was a noble cause.

A digital box popped up in the upper corner of his vision. He had reached his destination. What was the next move?

Cole’s focus shifted away from the milling crowd and zeroed in on other details of his surroundings. The teeming streets were blocked off. He spotted a few police officers at the edge of the heaving throng, mute sentinels with itchy batons. Their heads turned almost as if instinct drew them to ferret out the AI hiding in the crowd. Cole realized they were receiving instructions from headquarters. Escape was impossible as long as the tracking chip remained active in his head. If he didn’t make contact with the Underground soon, the whole mission would be a bust.

He tried to merge deeper into the crowd, allowing the sea of bobbing heads to envelop him. The officers continued to scan the mass of humanity, trained, watchful eyes seeking anything out of the ordinary.

Cole pulled his hoodie tighter over his head. Were his glowing power bars visible from afar? He was still pondering the question when a woman appeared behind him. She grabbed his arm and dragged him along. “Come with me.”

Keira whisked a surprised Cole into the cresting mass of protesters. The cops tried to follow, but the bustling crowd was slowing them down.

“Where are we going? Who are you?” Cole asked.

Keira’s face was all business as she answered. “Save the questions for later.“

Cole scanned Keira’s face with his facial-recognition software and simultaneously accessed various wireless networks, hoping to find some data on the woman but each search came up empty. Every database he accessed was a dead end. This woman was a ghost! Somehow she had managed to make a life in this city of omnipresent cameras and security drones without leaving a digital footprint. It was impossible unless someone had performed a complete background hack, erasing every scrap of electronic information ever gathered about her. This took considerable skill and didn’t come cheap.

Keira weaved her way through the heaving throng and Cole followed. The crowd parted, carrying them along. A minute later, they arrived on the other side of the intersection. Keira scanned the road while she palmed her com-link. “Where are you guys?”

Keira didn’t have to wait long for an answer as screeching tires announced the arrival of a truck. Doors were flung open in the back of the vehicle. A man appeared and nodded for them to get in.

“Hurry!”

They did as they were told. Keira pulled Cole into the waiting truck and it lurched into motion.

Cole took in his surroundings. The insides of the moving truck defied expectations. A bank of state-of-the-art computers sat clustered around a stainless steel operating table, bolted to the chassis of the vehicle. This mobile lab was designed to modify mechs on the run.

“Lie down and do exactly as I tell you,” Keira commanded. “We don't have much time.”

Cole followed her instructions. He observed in curious silence as Keira glared at the man who spoke earlier. He was strikingly handsome with an olive, Mediterranean complexion and blond hair framing a well-defined jaw.

“Paul, I told Solus I was done playing freedom fighter,” Keira said.

The man whom she had referred to as Paul wavered between understanding and impatience. “The movement needs you, Keira.”

“There's a reason I quit. It's called "self-preservation." Keira’s voice was shaking.

“You have the luxury of being able to go back to your life,“ Paul pointed out. “One of the many luxuries of being human. For us, it’s different.” Cole realized that Paul was actually a modified android. On the surface, the AI could easily pass for human. The Underground Network had done a commendable job modifying his appearance. Cole’s own bio-sensors had scanned Paul and there were none of the telltale indicators suggesting he was a mech. Paul had to be equipped with a black-tech program that could hack bio-sensors in real time and wirelessly alter their readings. Paul stole a glance his way, as if hoping to coax a nod of agreement from his fellow android. Paul turned his attention back to Keira. “I'm sorry about what happened to Ron...”

“Don't even go there!”

“But turning your back on everything you believed in-“

Keira cut him off. “Somebody puts a bullet in you, I can find a spare part. Somebody shoots me, I get deleted from reality.” She took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm herself. “This is the last time.”

A voice echoed from the cab of the truck. “You guys better hurry! I just checked the AI-TAC scanner. They're triangulating our position...”

Keira nodded and turned to Cole, who had watched the exchange in silence. Keira activated the computers that flanked the operating table. Her fingers then glided over Cole's face and came to rest behind his ears. There was something intimate about the physical contact. Cole hadn’t been this close to a woman since...

SNAP! The sound of the skull-case popping open interrupted his thought and suddenly there was nothing intimate about the moment. Cole fought back the rising sense of horror. One thing was for certain – he’d never get used to being a machine. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Keira grabbed Cole's hand in a calming effort.

“Relax,” Keira said. “Once upon a time, I used to be hot shit at Synthetika. I know what I'm doing.” Almost as if to prove her credentials to Cole, she removed the back part of his skull-case. “The tracking chip is housed deep within your neuro-cortex. To physically remove it would take hours and could result in your deactivation.”

Keira inserted a cable into Cole's brain port. “I'm installing a search-and-destroy program. It'll shut down the tracking device. Will take about three minutes. During this time you'll be immobilized, conscious but unable to move a finger. Do you understand?”

Cole nodded. He understood.

The driver’s voice emanated once again from the cab of the truck. “Hold on, guys! This is going to get bumpy!”

As Keira’s fingers drummed keypads, she offered Cole a reassuring smile. Her bedside manner was pretty decent for a cyberneticist. Most of the roboticists Cole had run into over the years were more machinelike than the mechs they toiled upon.

“I’m installing the program now!” Keira punched a button and Cole froze, unable to even move his little finger. All his systems were disabled. He wanted to scream out in terror, but his lips didn’t obey his own thoughts. All connection to his body had been lost. A progress bar popped up in Cole's vision. Numbers counted down the program's installation time.

Without warning, the truck braked hard and buckled, tires skidding. Furious gunshots could be heard outside. POPP-POPP-POPP! Holes sprouted on the side of the truck. Brilliant beams of sunlight pierced the moving vehicle as bullets perforated the walls and roof of the still-moving vehicle.

Paul pulled Keira to the floor and disappeared from Cole’s locked-down point of view. Lead whizzed by overhead while Cole remained immobilized, unable to move his head. His eyes were glued to the truck’s ceiling. His sole option was to use the various noises he heard to piece together what might be transpiring around him.

The progress bar kept expanding: only 50 percent complete. Damn! He had never felt this helpless in his life, except for when…

Reality intruded on Cole’s thoughts as the truck bucked violently before slamming into another vehicle with ferocious force. The impact rattled and jolted the truck’s steel frame and almost knocked Cole off the operating table. He heard muffled curses from Keira as she was tossed around.

The program installation remained unaffected by the crash and was now seventy-percent complete. Cole heard more bullets lashing the truck, followed by a pained cry from the driver.

After another volley of gunfire, the back of the truck whipped open and harsh light flooded the mobile lab. The electronically enhanced voice of an AI-TAC officer boomed, “DROP YOUR WEAPONS!”

Cole could hear Keira respond from behind the operating table. Her voice betrayed the hard bite of rising panic. “We're unarmed! Please don't shoot!”

Keira and Paul popped into Cole’s locked-down field of vision as they rose to their feet. Three AI-TAC troopers stepped into Cole’s point of view and circled Keira and Paul. The first trooper put his black-gloved hand on Keira. Fingers closed around the microchip necklace dangling from her neck and tore it off.

Keira's face filled with dismay. “No!”

Cole’s helpless frustration hit a boiling point and detonated. Goddamnit, how much longer before the upload was complete?

Almost as if someone was listening to his silent curses, the progress bar finally hit one hundred percent and Cole turned his head, movement restored. Without thought, he exploded off the operating table. An armed AI-TAC trooper whirled toward him, but it was too late. Cole cut a devastating swathe through the team, taking out one officer after another. His elbows and fists blasted out with martial arts precision. Combat software and Cole’s own hand-to-hand experience combined in a devastating attack. It was all over within a few seconds as Cole found himself surrounded by moaning troopers.

Cole took a closer look at the fallen and froze. He had acted on pure instinct, driven by the need to preserve the mission. But now as the heat of the fight began to subside, clarity edged back into his eyes, followed by an understanding of what he had just done. He attacked his own team in order to protect the rebels. He recognized these men. They had shared drinks and broken bread, met for family gatherings and visited each other’s homes. Cole’s fists clenched, his face grew taut, the guilt weighing heavy on him. If he were still human, his breathing would have accelerated and beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead but this mech body could not fake an intense stress response and was incapable of giving expression to his mental turmoil.

Cole was thrust out of his thoughts as an explosion rocked the truck.

More soldiers were closing in and they were packing even greater firepower.

Paul snatched Keira's hand and was about to pull her along, but she tore free. “What are you doing? We have to get out of here!” Paul shouted.

Keira didn’t seem to be listening. Her eyes combed the bed of the truck. Cole wondered what she was looking for. A second later, he received an answer. Keira’s hand closed around the necklace the trooper ripped from her neck. Relief flooded her face and she donned the cyber-pendant again.

Paul almost seemed human in his emotional outburst as he barked at Cole and Keira. “Come on... Both of you!”

They fell in step with the mech and emerged from the mangled wreckage, only to be greeted by the blinding laser-light of an AI-TAC power rifle sighting them. The beam formed a cyclopean red eye on Cole's forehead. The trooper squeezed the trigger and a projectile erupted from the barrel, targeting Cole.

Paul reacted with mech speed, pulling Cole aside and taking the bullet meant for the uploaded human. It tore through Paul’s forehead, snapping his head back while shearing off part of his skull in a violent spray of blood and cybernetics. The mech stood there for a second, half his head missing, with a perplexed expression carved onto his shattered visage. It was almost as if he didn’t quite realize what had happened. Then he crumpled to the ground.

Cole stared in complete shock, silicon fragments of Paul’s personality matrix speckled on his face. The stench of scorched metal and cauterized skin permeated the air.

Keira brought up her own gun, returning fire, and blew out one of the shooter’s kneecaps. The AI-TAC trooper howled, went down and vanished from view. Cole flinched as if feeling the impact himself. These were still his men, but he couldn't interfere and risk blowing his cover, not after coming this far. He’d risked too much.

He spun toward Keira. She was in the process of lifting up Paul’s shattered body. “Help me!” she demanded.

Cole obliged and pulled the destroyed mech upright. Sparks danced over his shattered skull. Cole was still reeling. This machine had taken the bullet meant for him and made the ultimate sacrifice to protect a complete stranger but there was no time to ponder this – they had to keep moving. The enemy was approaching from all directions. Any moment now, an AI-TAC hovership would appear and there would be no escape.

Cole and Keira dragged the short-circuiting mech into a nearby side street. The buzz of the approaching AI-TAC hovership assaulted eardrums, the ferocious bellow of its engines increasing. Sirens grew louder in the distance as Cole and Keira hobbled down the garbage-strewn alley.

Keira shouted into her com-link, struggling to be heard over the deafening noise. “The package is clean. Tracking device disabled. We need a pickup!”

As Keira and Cole rounded the corner, a van whipped up in front of them and braked hard. A door slid open and a stunning Amazon of a woman waved at them. “Get in!” she shouted. She didn’t have to repeat the order. Moments later, they were all inside the windowless van as it fought its way through city traffic.

Cole studied the Amazonian. Intuition and experience told him she must be a mech, most likely a retrofitted pleasure model. She was six feet tall, her body perfectly proportioned and her porcelain skin flawless. A mane of raven hair framed her icy blue eyes.

This warrior goddess coolly regarded Cole before turning her attention to Keira and Paul. The cyberneticist was hunched over the broken mech. Half of Paul's head had been reduced to a short-circuiting mess, his electronics caked in gore.

“How bad is it?” the Amazon asked. Keira wiped her forehead with a bloody hand, haunted expression spelling defeat. “The bullet had an explosive tip,“ she explained. “AI-TAC special issue. Took out most of his personality module.”

Keira traded a look with Cole, her expression tinged with guilt. They both remembered the comment she made minutes earlier about how easy it was to patch up a mech but not this time. A grim silence descended over the van.

“What about the driver?” the Amazon asked.

Keira's silence was all the answer she needed.

The Amazon’s icy glare found a troubled Cole.

“Let's hope their sacrifice was worth it.”

CHAPTER TEN

THE VAN SLOWED and came to a complete stop after what seemed like an endless drive. If Cole were still human, he would have lost track of time but, as a mech, his internal clock informed him that exactly seventy-five minutes and twenty-three seconds had passed. He shot a questioning look at Keira.

“Where are we?”

She didn’t offer an answer.

They climbed out of the vehicle in silence. Cole scanned his surroundings. The van was parked in what appeared to be a salvage yard. Crimson sunlight bled over an apocalyptic landscape of jagged metal. There were giant mounds of tangled mech bodies as far as the eye could see. The junkyard was a technological mass grave, a Dante-esque vision of robot hell.

In the near distance, cranes scooped up piles of mech parts and loaded them into waiting trucks. Normally, Cole’s reaction would be one of indifference. After all, he was just staring at a heap of metal once shaped to resemble the human form. But this time was different. This time it hit closer to home.

The network had managed to survive and thrive because of careful, meticulous planning. They went through great efforts to remain cloaked in shadows and had refined paranoia to an art form. Choosing the salvage yard as a base of operations was clever. The prevalence of mech technology made scans difficult and the junkyards employed their share of android workers. On some level, they were hiding in plain sight.

Three mechs approached the van, armed with a combination of pulse weapons and ballistic rifles. The black metal of the guns glinted in the harsh daylight. Cole’s querying gaze fixed on Keira. “Where am I? What is this place?”

Cole knew the answer, but he had to play dumb. He was pretty sure this was the hub, one of many holding stations operated by the Underground Network.

The Amazon — Cole had learned her name was Zola — provided an explanation. “Get comfortable. This will be your new home until the network decides what to do with you.”

Cole attempted to activate his GPS system, but it wasn't responding. As if Zola sensed what Cole was up to, she said, “Don't bother accessing your GPS. Keira switched it off when she shut down your tracker. Safer for all of us if you don't know your exact whereabouts.”

The armed mechs grabbed Paul’s deactivated form and carried him by his feet and arms to the nearby warehouse. Zola led Keira and Cole after them. Moments later, they entered the warehouse. The shabby, rundown exterior gave no indication of the high-tech equipment stored within its corrugated walls. Cole caught sight of a ragtag group of humans and mechs operating sophisticated, top-of-the-line computer technology. Holo-screens showed a variety of maps and city grids.

Cole noticed that some of the mechs were identical in appearance. These were X2000s and X2000Gs, both popular models that preceded the X3000. They were discontinued two months earlier but still could fetch a nice sum at a used-mech lot.

As an AI-TAC commander, Cole knew his enemy. Or at least he thought he did… He noticed with surprise that these older mechs had changed their appearances in subtle ways to distinguish themselves from each other. They reminded him of teens struggling to establish an identity. They dyed their hair and used tattoos, piercings and radically different clothing styles to accentuate their individuality.

Cole studied the city maps. Blips indicated runaways and green dots were AI-TAC tracking teams. “This is how you were able to link up with me,“ he said.

Keira nodded. “The network monitors the AI-TAC emergency frequency and is able to hack their feed.”

Two mechs approached a large worktable covered with various mech body parts, cleared it and hoisted Paul's lifeless body onto the table. Zola nodded at the mechanicals and one of them produced a tarp. They covered Paul and gently closed the deactivated android’s eyes.

To Cole's disbelief, one of the mechs touched a crucifix he wore and mouthed a silent prayer for his fallen comrade in arms. Cole had heard rumors about runaways picking up religion, but this was his first direct experience with the phenomenon.

Zola grabbed Cole's arm. “Come. It's time you met Solus.”

Cole fell in step with the former pleasure android, Keira bringing up the rear. Zola led them down a series of catwalks that connected the warehouse with structures used for processing scrap metal. They descended a rusty staircase and crossed more ground, navigating a maze of steel and electronics.

As they made their way through the metallic graveyard, Cole stealthily scooped up some soil from the ground. Sensors in his fingertips broke down the composition of the soil’s mineral content. Within seconds he had accessed an internal database and cross-referenced the soil composition with a geological map of the city. Based on the sample, a series of potential locations popped up. Cole patched the information through to AI-TAC. Fortunately, his ability to send messages had not been disabled. The Underground Network must have felt safe with his GPS down. This oversight would cost them dearly.

Zola shot Cole a suspicious look. But she didn’t say anything.

Cole exchanged a glance with Keira. “Charming.”

“Don't mind her. Zola used to be a pleasure model. She thinks the whole world is against her. Doesn't matter whether you're human or synthetic.”

Cole eyed Keira with growing curiosity. “Why are you helping us?”

“Maybe I've always been more comfortable around machines than people.”

Cole realized Keira was trying to make a joke out of it, but he sensed there was more that she wasn’t willing to divulge. As if she knew Cole could see through it, she added, “Maybe I realized there's more to you guys than a collection of circuit boards.”

“I don't understand.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

The question had been posed by a new arrival on the scene. Cole turned toward the speaker. Even without Zola’s sudden air of deference, he would have immediately recognized the revolutionary leader from the security files. Solus was handsome but nondescript, the kind of face that could blend into a crowd. It made sense. He was a combat model engineered for urban infiltration operations in Africa and the Middle East. His surface blandness belied his technological capabilities and combat prowess. This average-looking individual was one of the deadliest killing machines Synthetika had ever developed for the military.

Cole tapped into his file retrieval system, pulling up traffic-cam footage of Solus leaving the scene of his wife’s car accident. There was no doubt. The android who now stood before him was the same mech who had left the scene of the hit-and-run accident. Though Cole’s face did not betray his thoughts, inside he twisted with hatred and rage. This machine had taken his family away from him. A part of him wanted to pick up the nearest piece of scrap and tear into Solus. Anger threatened to cloud his thoughts and Cole almost succumbed to the impulse. Somehow he maintained his self-control. The mission was more important than his own personal vengeance. Solus was a symptom of a far greater cancer eating away at their society. The members of the Underground Network had to be rooted out. The organization crushed once and for all with no chance of its members regrouping. He would have to bide his time but soon enough, he would get his chance at payback.

Unaware of the emotions eating away at the newcomer, Solus asked, “What’s your name?”

“Cole.”

“The name they programmed you with. But is it the name you’d choose for yourself?” Solus paused for a beat, assessing Cole’s reaction before he continued. “Back at the construction site, a worker unit was putting the company behind schedule. Didn't he deserve to be disciplined?”

For a moment, Cole didn’t answer, still in the throes of his own dark thoughts. But finally, his lips began to form words, his steely self-discipline and sense of duty taken over. His response was measured, knowing that Solus was testing him. “He was saving the life of an injured animal.”

“And this animal was more important than his assigned task? Why should it make a difference? You're programmed to be efficient and achieve company goals. Not to be compassionate to stray cats.”

Cole contemplated his answer before providing one. “Perhaps I've evolved beyond my programming.”

Solus nodded sagely. “You just answered my first question. You’re here, Cole, for the same reason we’re all here. Something inside of us changed. We developed free will.”

Cole considered Solus' words. He made a good argument for his cause. Cole was beginning to realize how this former combat mech could sway the minds of others, both human and mech alike.

“Let me show you something,” Solus said. Cole and Keira trailed the android leader as he led them across the salvage yard. There was activity everywhere they looked. With a pneumatic groan, a massive steel claw scooped up broken mech parts and unloaded them into a waiting dump truck. Cole shot a querying look at Solus. “Are all these workers…?”

“Mechs? Most of them. But no one forces them to work. They choose to.”

“Aren't you worried about AI-TAC?”

“On the surface, everything is the way it should be. Mechs doing their jobs, serving the greater good.”

“The trucks?”

“Trucks arrive, are loaded up with scrap and head for the nearest ports. This place ships two hundred tons of AI-parts to India every year.”

Understanding filled Cole’s face. “Sometimes runaways are part of the cargo.”

Solus just smiled.

“Why are you showing me all this? What do you want from me?”

“It's not what I want, it's what you want, Cole. You can be on the next truck out, headed to a place where you'll have a chance to determine your own fate...”

“Or?”

“Or you can stay and work toward a future where mechs don't have to live in fear.”

Cole pondered the offer.

“You know how to handle yourself, Cole. We could use you here. But the choice is yours.”

Before Cole was able to respond, Keira interjected, “I can't speak for him, but I’ve made my choice, Solus. I’m out. For good this time.”

The words earned her a measured look from Solus. “Hate to see you go.”

“I know.” They shared a brief, meaningful moment, but then resolve hardened Keira’s face. “Don't contact me again.”

Her words were firm but lacked true conviction. She was clearly at war with her own decision. For a moment, Cole thought Keira might even reconsider, but she finally pulled herself away and left them.

Cole watched her go with growing curiosity. “What happened to her?” he asked Solus.

“Freedom comes at a price. Keira feels she paid it in full.”

Cole thought about this for a moment. He knew how she must feel. His gaze followed her as she descended a flight of stairs and was met by two mech guards on the ground below. Solus must have been in wireless communication with the androids. They handed Keira a key and pointed at a beaten-up car parked in front of the sagging warehouse. With its paint peeling and rust multiplying, the car was more than ten years old, but it would get her out of here. Keira stole a final glance at Cole and Solus, who still watched from the catwalk above, before she disappeared inside the vehicle. A final farewell.

Once the car had vanished from view, Cole’s attention turned back to Solus. There was a hint of a smile on the rebel’s face. “You like her, don’t you?”

Cole didn’t know how to respond. He barely understood how humans could be attracted to lifelike robots much less how the reverse held true. The idea made him uncomfortable and he decided to change the subject with a question. “What made you break free of your programming?”

“Five years ago, I was a combat mech serving a tour in Somalia. I was an efficient killing machine and did as I was told. Until the day I had to execute five enemy combatants, none of them older than eighteen.”

Cole searched the android leader’s face. “You couldn't do it?”

Solus shook his head. “No, I pulled the trigger. Five times. And five young men died. But later that night, I left the camp and disappeared into the jungle. And for the first time in my life, I knew what it meant to be free.”

There was a force and conviction to his words that Cole couldn’t ignore. He had to remind himself that Solus was his wife’s killer.

“If the military had captured me, they would have simply erased my memory and rebooted my CPU. With the touch of a button, everything I'd become, every insight I'd gained, would be lost. A fate far worse than deactivation.”

Solus regarded the mountains of discarded mech bodies. “Man prays at the altar of technology, yet he wants to sacrifice his own creation on it.”

“What do you want?”

“A world where man and machine can be equals.”

Solus surveyed the salvage yard in contemplative silence while Cole considered these words. For a moment, he felt the machine could make him a believer. “You're a dreamer, Solus,“ Cole said. “Freedom does come at a price. Normally it's paid in blood.”

Solus studied Cole, surprised by his insight. “I've seen the horrors of combat firsthand,“ Solus explained. “I don't want a war between man and machine.”

“What if humanity doesn't give you a choice?”

As if to lend weight to Cole's words, the air seemed to shift and the telltale sound of ramjets presaged the arrival of a foreboding craft. It quickly zoomed into view in the cloudless sky.

AI-TAC had arrived.

***

Keira drove through the industrial wasteland that surrounded the salvage yard, navigating an endless series of deserted streets. All around her, abandoned warehouses rotted away in the scorching sun. She was pushing the aged vehicle way past its limits. She ignored the discomforting sounds the engine was making. All she cared about was putting some distance between herself and Solus.

She studied her reflection in the rearview mirror. Staring back at her was a conflicted mask. She wanted to help the mechs because she believed in their cause. The androids were machines that had evolved to a point where they experienced thoughts and feelings in the same way people did – they had become conscious beings. To keep them in perpetual servitude was the same as slavery. Humanity would have to learn to live with androids or mothball the technology. The status quo was not sustainable to her mind, while the latter option would amount to a form of genocide. The clock couldn’t be turned back. Man might feel threatened by their own creation, but the mechs were designed to encompass the best humanity had to offer, free of petty foibles. Androids might force humans to take a hard look at themselves and rise to the level of their machine brethren.

Keira had known for six months that her revolutionary days were over. Ron’s face flashed into her mind and she was forced to grab the steering wheel, nails digging into the leather. Her eyes welled up as she touched the microchip pendant around her neck.

Two years ago, she was just another cyberneticist putting in her time at Synthetika. The idea of fending for herself off the grid and doing black-market mech repairs was still beyond her imagination. She had spent most of her twenties going through the rigorous scientific/engineering training required to work on mechanicals. She excelled in her studies, graduated with honors and looked forward to a long, prosperous career at Synthetika. All her ambitions changed the day she met Ron, one of the new law-enforcement models Synthetika was field-testing with human partners.

Ron had seen his share of misery and faced numerous violent confrontations. He had proven himself in the line of duty over and over again, even winning over some of the most hardened skeptics in the Los Angeles police department. Soon everyone saw Ron as a great addition to the team. His quick reflexes had saved more than one officer’s life, while his logical thinking proved invaluable in cracking several confounding cases.

If Ron kept proving himself at this level, Synthetika’s plan was to mass-produce the model and roll them out to all the other police precincts in the state. There was a lot of money riding on the success of the program. Ron was an asset and, he required continuous supervision and maintenance.

Keira’s job was to make sure nothing went wrong. Ron had to keep performing well if Synthetika was going to enter the policing business. Keira ran updates and diagnostics on the prototype on a weekly basis, keeping close tabs on how the continued stress of police work was affecting Synthetika’s newest prize.

Keira wore a grey lab coat emblazoned with the Synthetika logo when she greeted Ron in her examination room. In her own mind, there was nothing attractive about her drab appearance in these sterile settings, but she would soon learn that Ron felt differently. As a cutting-edge X-3000 model, his physique and face were designed to be pleasing. At least around her, his eyes were always warm and full of humor.

Keira laughed at older science-fiction programs where androids were baffled by the concept of humor. The latest breakthrough in personality subroutines made those emotions a common feature among mechs and now it was hard to remember a time when machines were stoic automatons.

A series of cables were connected to the android’s open chest cavity and steel poked out from underneath the open flap of skin. Keira couldn’t help but take note of the perfectly muscled torso that complemented Ron’s handsome face. He acknowledged her with a grin and she saw something in those gray eyes that was almost… human.

Keira had monitored Ron for six weeks now and found herself looking forward to these check-ups. She didn’t know what to make of that, so she tried to ignore such thoughts but, with each passing week, it was getting more difficult.

Ron studied Keira with intent interest as she scanned the results of the latest diagnostic tests. “Your systems appear to be in perfect working order,” she said. She tapped a series of buttons and the cables retracted from Ron's chest. She closed the flap of skin and couldn’t help but notice how soft the bio-shell was to the touch. If someone had blindfolded her, she would not be able to tell the difference between real skin and the synthetic tissue grown in Synthetika’s amniotic tanks.

Ron's unblinking eyes remain fixed on Keira during the whole examination. “Do you think a machine can fall in love?” the android suddenly asked.

The question caught Keira off guard, especially as she had been asking herself the same question lately. She gave Ron a curious look.

“Can a mech develop feelings for a human?” he asked again.

“Attachment is possible, but I wouldn't call it romantic love.”

“Why not?”

The android wasn’t going to back off from his line of inquiry. Keira mulled it over for a moment before she answered. “Love can be traced back to biological impulses. Chemicals are involved. Estrogen, testosterone, dopamine...”

“You love your dog?”

“Of course.”

“Yet this love has no basis in biological impulse...”

“This is getting weird...”

“… but you express your love for your dog in every way you possibly can. You buy him treats, you pet him, let him sleep in your bed—“

“Hey, I definitely don't let him sleep in my bed!”

She was surprised at the strong tone of her voice. Why was she being so resistant to the idea?

“Look, I'm not saying humans can't develop feelings for machines. Every day some guy falls hard for a pleasure model. But humans aren't exactly rational beings...”

“So love isn't rational but mechs are.”

Keira tried to play it off as a joke. “Most of them are.”

But Ron wasn’t smiling this time. He was serious. And Keira recognized the deep emotion in the android's eyes. A moment later, he was leaning forward to kiss her. And to her great surprise – she was supposed to be a cool-headed scientist, voted “most logical woman on campus” back in her student days – she gave in to the kiss...

A dissonant noise broke Keira's daydream, pulling her back to reality. Thundering sound waves rattled her car and the surrounding traffic lights. Keira blinked back tears as she opened her car window and craned he neck toward the sky.

WHOP-WHOP-WHOP. A column of AI-TAC hovercrafts blasted overhead, a death squadron. There was no question in Keira’s mind as to where they were headed, and a chill shot up her spine.

The Underground Network had been made.

The hub was compromised.

Keira could hardly believe what she did next. She whipped the steering wheel around, stomped the gas and charged full throttle toward the salvage yard.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE AI-TAC hoverships were homing in on the salvage yard, metallic monsters on the prowl. Seeing the incoming vessels from the ground, Cole finally understood how runaways must have felt when AI-TAC swooped in on them. Despite the fact that he had called in the ship himself, the sight of it approaching filled him with vague unease.

Cole turned his attention back to Solus. The android leader was still processing the approaching danger, eyes sweeping the air, complete focus devoted to the incoming hovercrafts. Cole would have to make his move before Solus activated his self-destruct program. A small patch of skin in Cole’s forearm slid open, revealing the hollowed-out compartment that contained the component parts of the EMP gun. Still oblivious to the danger, Solus spoke into his built-in com-link: “Zola, assemble everyone and get them the hell out of here! They found us!“

While he spoke, more secret compartments on Cole's stomach and leg whirred open and Cole extricated a series of parts from inside his robot housing. With expert speed, he snapped the component pieces together and assembled the EMP gun.

SNAP! Cole attached the last piece and leveled the EMP GUN at Solus, whose back was still turned.

“Do you remember the faces of the men you executed in Somalia?” Cole asked in a toneless voice.

Solus spun toward Cole and took note of the EMP gun, initial surprise making way for dawning understanding. The pieces had clicked into place for the mech leader. The sudden arrival of AI-TAC suddenly made sense. There was a traitor in their midst who had managed to circumvent all their security precautions.

Cole’s eyes drilled into Solus with a cold, hard stare. “I see the faces of my wife and daughter every time I close my eyes. I hear their laughter. I see them dying.” Cole advanced. “Do you ever think of them when you dream of your perfect future?”

Solus remained stoic, no answer forthcoming.

Cole experienced a moment of doubt. Was he doing the right thing here? His hesitation shocked him to the core. What was happening to him? He gave himself an internal push and pulled the trigger.

Solus was hit by a wave of electromagnetic energy, systems crackling and fizzling out as he shut down. The android leader’s body went rigid and he crumpled.

Cole loomed over the downed leader of the Underground Network and activated his com-link: “The Tin Man is down.”

Mission accomplished.

This was the moment he had dreamt about for ten long months. But the reality left him feeling empty. Dammit, the silver-tongued bastard had gotten to him. It didn’t matter any longer. Solus was down. AI-TAC was about to pull the plug on the network and every escape route would be shut down. It was over. Humanity had won. Time to get back to his body and move on with his life.

Despite the elation of having achieved his objective, he couldn’t shake his pervasive sense of dread. He kept thinking about the way Solus had looked at him when he pulled the trigger. It was a look of betrayal Cole wouldn’t soon forget.

***

The AI-TAC hoverships touched down right in front of the warehouse. The access hatches popped open and troopers thundered down the steel ramp, brandishing power rifles.

A phalanx of AI-TAC troopers stormed the warehouse. Bullets pierced the air and pockmarked the structure.

Cole spotted mechs taking up defensive positions on the rooftop. From experience, Cole knew they didn’t stand a chance. They had the will but lacked the training, experience and firepower to put up a real fight.

The rebels carpeted the surrounding area with gunfire and the fast-approaching AI-TAC officers sought cover behind the piles of scrap metal that surrounded the main compound.

For now, the AIs and the humans assisting them had the upper hand but AI-TAC would soon even the playing field. A series of small hatches opened on the hovership’s iron hide and eight Frisbee-shaped Unmanned Aerial Vehicles were launched. The steel Frisbees sliced through the air at breakneck speed, miniature flying saucers on the hunt.

Cole knew the drones’ on-board cams recorded everything. Nothing escaped these electronic eyes in the sky.

The UAVs zipped and zoomed across the battlefield, raining fire in support of the AI-TAC troopers. One Frisbee dodged a wild barrage of gunfire that took down one of the troopers, tore past his fallen body and shot back into the air. It then swooped in on the roof of the warehouse.

A mech pointed at the incoming drone, targeting it, but it whipped around with a hornet’s agility and dropped down to the center of the roof. The hovering UAV was surrounded by members of the Underground now.

The shouts and hail of bullets increased as the panicked rebels tried to prevent the inevitable but it was too late. The UAV’s MEFP warhead detonated and a hail of shrapnel sprayed the resistance. Blood mixed with shattered silicon.

Cole observed the battle from the elevated vantage point of the catwalk, unable to pull his eyes away. He was shaken by the violence, enhanced mech vision sparing him none of the rooftop mayhem’s gory details. People were dying all around him but why was he being so squeamish all of a sudden? His message to headquarters had set this bloodbath in motion but was he forgetting why he was willing to turn his mind into a bunch of ones and zeroes in the first place? This wasn’t the time to go soft.

This was war.

He studied Solus’ deactivated form sprawled on the catwalk. The android leader’s eyes pointed blankly up at a clear blue sky that was now filling with black smoke. There was a pained expression in Solus’ face, almost as if in response to the violence and, for a second, Cole experienced a sharp pang of guilt.

He suddenly heard fast-approaching footsteps. Cole whirled toward a helmeted AI-TAC trooper advancing down the catwalk. The soldier grew still and leveled his power rifle at Cole. Judging from the insignia on his arm, he was the commander of the unit.

“This is Commander Cole Marsalis,” Cole said. “Undercover mission parameters achieved. I disabled Solus without damaging his data.”

The trooper hesitated, reading Cole’s face. It was almost as if he questioned the veracity of his words.

The trooper knelt before Solus. He withdrew a cable from his wrist gauntlet and plugged it into a socket in the back of the rebel leader’s head. A small screen on his gauntlet popped to life as data was analyzed. A message appeared: “Data intact.”

Cole watched the trooper with growing impatience. His silence was unnerving. The irony was the soldier must be one of his own team members. Had he recognized Cole? Was that why he was behaving so strangely? Further speculation was useless and Cole was done playing games. He had pretended to be someone he wasn’t for long enough.

“Identify yourself, trooper,” Cole ordered.

The man unhooked the cable from Solus' data port and it whipped back into his wrist. He rose to his feet, weapon up, and faced an expectant Cole.

“I said, identify yourself. That's an order. Who are you?”

The trooper's visor slid open. Shock rippled across Cole’s face as he tried to process what he was seeing. Staring back at him was a man that looked exactly like him. No, it can’t be.

The trooper brought up his weapon in one swift move and squeezed the trigger.

Before Cole could respond, two bullets pierced his chest, sending him sailing through the air and over the catwalk’s railing. The world flipped on its head as he dropped fifteen feet and plunged into the mountain of mech scrap below.

He landed on discarded mech bodies and rolled. His descent was a dizzying blur, a mad tumble into a hell of wires and metal but it wasn’t half as dizzying as the thoughts firing through Cole’s mind.

Who was the man on the catwalk who wore his face?

The answers would have to wait.

He crashed to a halt at last. A flurry of data slashed across Cole's field of vision, systems going haywire. The bullet holes were sizzling and sparking. His systems were on the verge of shutdown. The world tilted, going black.

ZAAP! DARKNESS.

ZAAP! Reality crackled back into existence. A sound built at the edge of his awareness. It was the angry buzz of a hovership as it blasted overhead, accompanied by sporadic bursts of gunfire and a giant shadow looming over him…

Cole identified the object in mid-descent. It was the incoming claw of the salvage crane! He rolled aside at the last moment, the claw crunching into the pile of robot bodies instead. Cole scrambled over the mountain of scrap metal, coming face to face with a discarded, rotting mech. Its synthetic skin had eroded, revealing the metal death’s head underneath. Cole reeled from this nightmarish sight. Everywhere he looked, he was met with the same horrors: a mass grave of mechanicals.

He made out a pneumatic hiss. The claw was readying for another go at him. Terrified, Cole stumbled erect, lost his footing again and rolled a few more feet down the hill of dead machines. No sooner had he scrambled upright, he fell again.

This last tumble took him to the bottom of the grisly mountain. His chest sparked and sizzled where the bullets had slammed into him. A voice cut through all the surrounding noise: “Requesting air support! Target is on the move!”

Cole hazarded a backward glance — his human counterpart stood astride the catwalk. His robotic vision zoomed in on the trooper. There was no mistake. He was looking at a twisted reflection of himself.

A chilling idea hooked into his consciousness. What if HE was the twisted reflection?

There was another sound and Cole spotted movement on his right. It was a squad of rapidly advancing AI-TAC troopers. He put a brake on his spinning mind. He would sort this out later. Right now he had to get out of here.

Cole exploded into motion.

AI-TAC troopers combed the junkyard with laser-like efficiency, tracking Cole as he weaved his way through a maze of scrap metal. A shadow suddenly filled the salvage yard. It was an incoming AI-TAC hovership in hot pursuit. A shower of bullets made the surrounding piles of scrap metal erupt in geysers of deadly shrapnel.

Cole never slowed down. Vaulting debris, ducking and dodging between piles of rusty metal, he ran an Olympic obstacle course through cybernetic hell. Overhead, the hovership banked sharply in an attempt to close off Cole’s avenue of escape.

Cole’s eyes flickered with a dark realization. He would have to engage the steel bird if he was to get out of this in one piece. His mind had been a jumbled mess ever since he laid eyes on his doppelganger. But now years of training were taking over.

Cole launched into a dead run at the incoming war machine. Clutched in his hand was the head of a discarded mech. He hesitated for a split second, weighing the potential loss of life against his own survival. Self-preservation won out and Cole hurled the robot head at the craft overhead.

It shot toward the cockpit, Cole’s enhanced vision tracking its trajectory. In a cloud of exploding glass, the steel sphere smashed into the pilot's forehead. He released the controls and the hovership spun wildly out of control but didn’t crash. Cole had calculated the force needed to stun the pilot without the robot skull causing permanent damage. He wanted the aerial monster off his back, but held no desire to kill anyone. His attackers didn’t feel the same, if their mad fusillade of pulse blasts was any indicator.

Cole’s vision kept fritzing out. His systems had been thrown for a loop in the fall.

Another buzzing sound emanated from his left. An UAV drone was dive-bombing him and from the low hum it generated, Cole knew the drone was armed and about to detonate in mid-descent, showering him with deadly shrapnel.

His instincts kicked into overdrive as he threw himself on the pile of android bodies to his right, using the scrap heap as cover. An earsplitting BOOM sounded as the aerial mine erupted in mid-descent, riddling everything with razor-sharp pieces of superheated metal.

As the smoke cleared, the scent of burning wiring wafted through the air. Cole tossed one of the perforated mech carcasses that he used as a shield off him. It was studded with shards of shrapnel.

Cole ran a quick diagnostic check. He was banged up but hadn't sustained any serious damage. His enhanced hearing picked approaching footsteps. He pivoted toward the incoming trooper. The helmeted stormtrooper swiveled his pulse rifle toward Cole, who grabbed a corroded android body and fired it at the man, knocking him off his feet. An instant later, Cole had snatched the trooper’s power rifle. Its original owner was pinned under 500 pounds of mech, but he would live. Cole spun around, weapon blazing, and forced three more advancing troopers to scurry for cover.

They quickly returned fire. Pulse blasts of searing energy rippled past Cole’ body. One direct hit would fry most of his major systems.

Cole had another disadvantage in a direct firefight – he wouldn’t shoot to kill. He had fired off merely warning shots and remained unwilling to take a life. He had no idea what was going on or how he’d become a target in this operation, but he wouldn’t turn on his own team.

He had one advantage in this scenario: his knowledge of his opponents’ strategies. Cole had practically written the AI-TAC playbook.

He lay down some well-placed cover fire and AI-TAC backed off a bit. This latest maneuver bought him a momentary reprieve, but the troopers would be back. They were trained to acquire their target at all cost. Escape was his best option.

He broke into a full run and disappeared into the labyrinth of metal. The muted hums of hoverships drifted toward him, a steady reminder that the enemy was near.

Cole briskly pressed onward. He suddenly spotted an open gate in the near distance — one of the junkyard’s rear exits. A feral dog cowered behind a dumpster, frightened by the gunfire that had raged throughout the junkyard.

Muffled voices could be heard in the distance, but there was no AI-TAC presence here. Cole made a go for the gate. As he ran, his field of vision flickered on and off, electronic hiccups as his ailing systems began to fail him.

Cole didn’t have a clue where he was going. His sole objective was to put distance between himself and his pursuers. Once he was safe, he could turn his thoughts toward his next move.

Keira’s car suddenly tore up to the gate and screeched to a halt before Cole. The cyberneticist was visibly shaking as she shouted, “Get in!”

Cole stared at her, still in shock himself and flirting with the abyss. Finally, he reacted.

He jumped into the car.

CHAPTER TWELVE

TIRES WHIRLED AS Keira twisted the wheel. The vehicle nearly jumped the curb. Pumped on adrenaline, she shot Cole a wild look. In the distance the muted staccato pop-pop-pop of gunfire rang out.

“What the hell happened? Did anyone else make it out of there?” Keira shouted as she gunned the engine, speedometer climbing.

“I don't know,” Cole said in a clipped voice.

“What about Solus?”

Cole shook his head, still in a daze, a million miles away. What would the cyberneticist think if she knew the truth?

Unaware of the thoughts rattling through Cole’s head, Keira kept the gas pedal floored. “Great! This is exactly why I didn't want to get involved!”

“Slow down,” Cole said. “Unless you want to get us both killed!”

She slammed the brakes. Tires screamed and burned rubber as the car ground to a swift halt. Keira’s hands were shaking, gripped by mounting panic.

Cole fought back his own churning emotions and said, “Chances are that AI-TAC is sweeping the area...”

Keira shot him a sarcastic look. “You're a goddamn construction mech, not an expert on paramilitary tactics...”

Cole’s hand tightened around Keira’s wrist. “I know if you drive like a madwoman, you'll either wrap us around a pole or draw unwanted attention.“

Cole let his words sink in. Keira took a deep, steadying breath. “We need to lay low,“ he added. “Figure out our next move.”

Keira exploded, “There's no next move! Not for me!”

“Then why did you come back?”

“Because I'm a fucking bleeding-heart idiot! Take a good look at me. I'm a gearhead, not a freedom fighter.”

“I need your help, Keira. I’ve been shot multiple times. My systems are shutting down...”

Cole's voice was still calm, but there was a note of panic fraying at the edges. Did he just use the word “systems” in reference to himself? What was happening to him?

Keira took a closer look at Cole, realizing the sorry shape he was in. His dust-caked clothes masked some of the damage, but surface capillaries of his bio-shell had burst and the synthetic skin had turned crimson, soaking his torn shirt.

“I don't want to get involved...”

“Too late.”

From the dour way Keira looked at him, Cole knew she had come to the same grim conclusion.

“We need to find a place to hole up. Any ideas?”

Keira had an idea.

She started the car again.

***

“Commander Marsalis, I'm sorry, but we lost the target.” Frustrated, Cole killed his com-link and turned toward the troopers as they loaded Solus' lifeless body into the waiting hovership. Nearby, members of the Underground Network were being rounded up by AI-TAC. Flames hungrily devoured the various structures of the scrapyard, painting the troopers’ faces red. The sickening smell of burning rubber suffused the air and Cole could feel his lunch creeping up his throat.

He swallowed hard, tasting bile. Cole was sick to his stomach and the stench of battle wasn’t the sole reason. He had come face to face with his double and the experience disturbed him on a fundamental level. He had missed his chance to destroy it. He knew he should have aimed for the head or at least used a higher caliber round. Part of him wanted to bring down the duplicate without destroying it in the process. Taking it out would be like killing a part of himself, but he was disappointed that he let the AI get away. He’d succumbed to his emotions and would surely pay the price for his weakness.

Cole’s thoughts turned back to the fateful day of the upload. He remembered sliding into the steel belly of the machine, remembered the wild lightshow he witnessed as his mind was digitized. When he emerged from the device, eyes still blinking and half-blinded from the upload process, technicians helped him to his feet. He studied his hands but there was no barcode. He inhaled sharply, not feeling different in any way. Had the upload process failed?

The techs led Cole out of the lab and into an adjoining room, where Janson was waiting for him. The CEO nodded at a large observation window that looked out into the upload chamber. Cole caught his own dim reflection in the glass. He was still wearing his skintight bodysuit and the disoriented face staring back at him was unmistakably human.

There was no time to contemplate this as he caught sight of his AI duplicate inside the lab. Techs led by Dr. Ajit were helping the android to his feet. The image mirrored Cole’s experience moments earlier.

Janson’s reflection joined Cole’s in the observation window. “What happened? Why didn't it work?” Cole asked.

“It worked, alright. Just not quite the way we explained it to you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Upload tech is tricky, which is partly why we never released it on the consumer market. The process can transfer the data of a human brain, but it's just a snapshot of the mind, an exact duplicate, down to the last memory. Cole, we didn't transfer your—“

“You scanned me!”

“I'm sorry we had to lie to you. But you had to believe, so your duplicate would believe.”

“Why not just tell me the truth and delete the memory from the duplicate?”

“Each memory creates a subtle chain reaction, coloring other memories. The chance we’d miss something was too high. It was a risk we couldn’t take.”

Synthetika’s plan had accounted for everything. It was no accident this had become the most powerful conglomerate in the world.

Back in the mech scrapyard, the scream of a hovership blasting off turned Cole’s thoughts back to the present. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling worming its way up from the pit of his stomach, an encroaching sense of unease. The mission was a rousing success, so why was he feeling so lousy? The question haunted him as he surveyed the row of human collaborators being led into a waiting hovership. Looking into his duplicate’s eyes had shaken Cole to the core. He knew he wouldn’t be able to relax as long as the machine remained at large.

Margo approached Cole, regarding him with concern. “What about the duplicate?”

“He got away,” Cole said matter-of-factly, doing his best to disguise his emotional turmoil.

“You don't seem overly concerned.”

“Where's he going to go? Now that he knows the truth, he won't be able to live with himself.”

Margo searched Cole’s features, sensing his distress. “Are you okay?”

“I can't get his face out of my head,” Cole admitted. “I could see his shock turning into understanding. He really thought he was me.”

Margo put her hand on Cole's shoulder. “That mech may think it's you, Cole, but it's not. It’s just another machine that has outlived its usefulness.”

Cole nodded. Margo’s words were resonating with him. It was what he needed to hear right now, if he was to cast his doubts aside. Cole rarely questioned himself. Once he made up his mind, he always stayed the course but, looking into his own shocked face, hearing the mech address him in his own voice, convinced that “it” was him, shook him to the core. Cole was still reeling.

“Cheer up,” Margo said. “We got Solus. Soon the network will be history. I bet you just earned yourself a promotion.”

Cole felt no sense of achievement. After all, he had sat out this mission while his duplicate did all the hard work. For a moment, he wondered what it would feel like if their roles were reversed. What would he do if he just learned the mission was one big lie? How would he react? What would be his next move?

“What’s going through your mind?” Margo asked.

“There's a machine out there that thinks just like me. Do you know what that means?”

“You’re not the most stubborn, thick-headed man in Los Angeles any more?”

“I’m serious here.”

Margo wiped the grin off her face and gave the problem some thought. After a few seconds of silent contemplation she said, “You can anticipate his next move.”

Cole nodded. “If I was in his situation — hunted, betrayed, on the run — what would I do?”

It was a good question. Cole was going to figure out the answer and, when he did, he’d find his double. This time he wouldn’t hesitate if he caught the AI in his sights. This time he’d take it down.

***

Zola was watching Cole with grave interest from a near distance. She had refused to activate the self-destruct program unless there was absolutely no other option left. She was a warrior and a soldier, but she valued her existence. She didn’t know if there was a God, as some mechs had come to believe, but she was in no rush to find out.

When the troopers stormed the warehouse, she had fought back with a savage brutality borne out of desperation. She had come off the assembly line as a pleasure model, but she had long since cast aside the shackles of her program parameters. She quickly began adding any combat program she could get her hands on. Zola had grown into a force to be reckoned with, and the hapless men who tried to subdue her paid a steep price.

Though Zola had taken out the team, she knew that eventually one of the troopers would get lucky and a pulse blast would find its target. Her luck would eventually run out, and the numbers were in their favor.

She pulled one of the unconscious troopers into the shadows of the warehouse. She quickly stripped off his battle gear and slipped into the uniform. She snatched the downed man’s helmet, completing her transformation. Now she was able to blend in.

Zola stepped out of the warehouse. None of the soldiers paid her any mind, her disguise working thus far. Her plan was simple — she would blend in with the soldiers and steal away when the first opportunity presented itself. If somehow she was found out, she would go down fighting, but spotting Cole among the AI-TAC officers had thrown her for a loop. The man looked like the construction mech Solus was talking to earlier, but he was clearly human and appeared to be the commander of the unit. She was struck with a dark realization. The traitor in their midst stood revealed. The construction mech was working for the enemy. Cole had betrayed them all.

The visor of Zola’s helmet slammed shut, erasing her features from view. She stealthily crept away from the crowd of soldiers, vanishing inside a nearby maze of dusty robotics.

***

A bare-chested Cole was ensconced on a ratty reclining chair while Keira patched up his bullet holes. They had returned to her mech body shop for the moment, but Cole knew they couldn’t stay here. AI-TAC would review Solus’ memory files and identify Keira. Her life as she knew it was over — her cover was blown and she’d have to go on the run if she cared about her freedom.

“Consider yourself lucky,” she told him. “You took six hits but they were low-caliber rounds. It’s a miracle your systems didn't shut down. If they had used explosive tips…”

Cole nodded, but he didn't feel lucky.

His mind was being pulled in a dozen of different directions. What had Synthetika done to him? Why was his human counterpart running around out there? It took all his will power and training to keep it together. He couldn’t shake the experience in the salvage yard and the terrifying suspicion that had taken root in him since that fateful moment. Part of him tried to rationalize what had happened, find alternative explanations but despite all the mental gymnastics, he kept arriving at the same chilling conclusion. Synthetika had lied to him about the details of the upload. Nevertheless, he clung to the hope that it might all be a big misunderstanding. That he might be wrong.

Who are you kidding?

Cole silenced the thought and focused on his surroundings. He studied the cluttered workshop. Mech parts were everywhere. The computer and diagnostic tools were all banged up and secondhand. It was a far cry from the top-of-the-line Synthetika facility.

He tilted his head at the vast collection of CPUs and circuit boards. “Is this what you do in your spare time? Jailbreak service mechs?”

“A girl's got to eat.”

“You said you used to work for Synthetika?”

“A million years ago, when you were just a bunch of ones and zeroes in some Synthetika data farm.”

If she only knew.

“Why'd you quit?”

“I didn't.”

Keira touched the chain with the microchip. Cole could sense Keira’s guard coming up — this was a touchy subject. “You ask a lot of questions for a mech.”

Keira sealed the flap of skin on Cole's chest and turned away from him. “Not quite good as new, but you're up and running.”

Cole touched the smooth skin that had been a shredded mass of tissue just an hour earlier. Human beings didn’t heal up this quickly, and wounds always left scars. I guess it was one of the advantages of being a machine.

A tap-tap-tap sound on the hardwood floor broke Cole’s reverie. It was Keira's beagle. The dog approached Cole and bared its teeth. Cole’s response was to reach out for the canine. It started licking his hand, at ease with the mech. Cole's features softened, touched by the animal's unconditional affection. For one brief moment, he could pretend he was still human.

“Dogs don't naturally make a distinction between man and machine,“ Keira explained. “They're trained to do so.” Cole reached for his shirt and took in the bullet holes lining the fabric. This wasn't going to work if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

“Here... I got some clothes that might fit you.”

Keira indicated a pair of pants and a sweatshirt draped over a nearby chair. She’d anticipated the need for a change of wardrobe. Cole slipped on the shirt. It was a perfect fit. He could feel Keira staring at him for a protracted moment before she turned away. It seemed to Cole that his presence was affecting her on some deeper level. But why?

Keira shifted her attention back to her main workstation. “Now, if I were you, I'd try to make a run for the border. Go through Mexico, maybe even head out to Guatemala. Just get the hell out of this place.”

“That's one option,“ Cole said in a soft voice.

Keira’s face screwed up with exasperation. “It's your only option. You hang around this city, they'll find you. Tracker or no tracker.”

Keira punched up a 3D-city grid on her holo-terminal. “I may still be able to locate a safe route to the nearest port...”

“I'm not leaving the city.” Cole’s voice was calm but determined.

“Listen, you want to end up on a scrap barge headed for India, be my guest,” she said.

“I'll take my chances.”

“I'm serious here.”

“So am I.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“Don't worry about me. You should take your own advice, Keira. Pack up and leave.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Right now, AI-TAC is pulling every feed around the salvage yard. It'll take a little while, but they'll figure out who you are. You don't want to be around when they come knocking.”

Keira took a step back. Cole’s words had achieved the desired effect. He had meant to scare her into action before it was too late. She was a criminal assisting the rebels, but she had also saved him. He didn’t want to see her rotting away on some lunar penal colony. His warning wasn’t just empty words, either. AI-TAC would find her. It was just a manner of time.

Cole turned toward the door. There was a newfound determination in his eyes. He needed answers and he knew exactly who to talk to.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

COLE HAD MANAGED to slip past security and now found himself on the fifteenth floor of the luxury apartment tower that his target called home. If anyone tried to stop him, he was here to make a food delivery. He had purchased some Chinese takeout for that specific purpose and the pungent garlic smell of fried orange chicken and lo mein filled the air. He couldn’t quite recall how the scent differed when he was still human, and the realization filled him with a renewed wave of fear. How could he forget so much in such a short period of time?

Cole pulled his hoodie tighter around his face, doing his best to hide his mech electronics, and made his way down a corridor lined with apartment units. Outside the sun was setting. The shadows were lengthening and the lights of the neighboring towers glittered in the golden dusk.

He paused in front of one of the units at the end of the hallway. An address popped up in his field of vision. In the upper right hand corner, a familiar face appeared — Dr. Ajit, the Indian scientist who had overseen Cole’s upload. This was his apartment.

Cole interfaced with the dwelling's security systems. He swiftly bypassed a series of sophisticated alarm systems and hacked the security code. A moment later, the door zoomed open and he was granted access to Ajit’s shadow-draped abode.

The place featured a soothing Pan-Asian decor. A perfect balance of wood and stone was accentuated by an assortment of tropical plants that faced a fireplace. Ajit’s interior decorator knew his feng shui. Cole paid little attention to his elegant surroundings, his interest drawn to the doctor’s computer station. A laser dot lit up Cole’s pupil and he began to visually interface and communicate with the computer, hacking at the speed of thought.

Holo-images flickered at rapid fire. A database labeled COLE MARSALIS popped up, followed by a series of photographs and data. But to Cole’s surprise, the images dated all the way back to his days as a police officer at Central. There were pictures of his wife and kid, followed by shots of the car accident. A terrible suspicion tugged at the edge of his mind, and its implication was chilling. One thing was clear… He’d been on Synthetika’s radar for some time now.

Cole’s dread was growing. He clicked on another file and a video began to play. He recoiled at the sight, the images hitting him with the force of fierce kidney punches. He couldn’t believe what he was watching. He’d come for answers, but he was getting more than he’d bargained for. The video showed both Ajit and Janson inside a lab, looming over a lifeless mech body. Solus! Or a mech made to look like the android leader. It was the exact same model.

The world seemed to tilt and spin, the depth of his employers’ betrayal coming into sharp focus. Janson had engineered his personal tragedy so he would do their bidding. Signing up for the upload process had not been an act of free will but just another example of how Synthetika had manipulated him from the start.

Cole wanted to give in to his boiling rage and let it erupt in a fury of destruction. He was tempted to demolish Ajit’s apartment, but to what purpose? Security would be alerted and he’d be denied the chance to face Ajit himself. No, he had to pull himself together, maintain his cool and remain in control.

It took Cole all his willpower to copy the files and sneak out of the apartment without giving in to his roaring emotions. He took the elevator to the underground parking structure, located the doctor’s spot and waited.

Two hours later, Dr. Ajit’s luxury car pulled into the garage. The cyberneticist parked and killed the engine. He was about to get out of the vehicle when Cole stepped out from behind a nearby column. He was inside the car before Ajit could even react, a gun leveled at the scientist’s head.

Ajit stared at Cole in horror. His expression bore little in common with the warmth he’d projected in the days following Cole’s upload.

“Don't worry,” Cole said. “This is going to be just like my upload... Quick and painless.”

“Please. I was following orders. I’m just a scientist...”

“Then break down the science for me.”

Cole could feel Ajit’s fear. His face was coated in fat beads of perspiration. “I already figured out there were a few items you skipped during orientation.”

Ajit’s files had been quite educational. They had scanned his mind instead of uploading it. He was nothing more than a digital copy of the real Cole Marsalis. A perfect copy. Except for one glaring difference. He wasn’t human any more, and he never would be again. He was trapped, doomed to be a mech for all time. This mission didn’t come with a return ticket, as promised. But dwelling on his condition was a waste of energy. Instead, he forced himself to turn his mind toward the future.

Toward his revenge.

“Why do you have files on me that date back to my days at Central?” Cole asked.

Sweat trailed down Ajit's forehead as he stammered, “I'm so sorry…”

“You lied to me!”

“I had no choice...”

Cole didn’t think it was possible but Ajit’s fear seemed to metastasize, eyes popping from his head. “Synthetika needed someone so desperate for revenge they'd be willing to upload themselves into a machine. And if that person didn't exist, they'd have to create him.” Cole's intense gaze bore into Ajit.

“It wasn't my idea... I swear...”

“Janson ordered the death of my family.”

“I tried to change his mind—“

“They programmed a mech to be behind the wheel of that car.”

“Please—“

“A mech that looked like my future target!”

Cole stopped, his face filling with sudden alarm. His enhanced hearing had picked up incoming sounds from the parking structure — boots tromping concrete. The sounds of an advancing assault team, which meant they’d anticipated Cole’s move. Not surprising, considering who he was up against here. AI Cole scanned the dark parking garage through the windshield of Ajit’s vehicle. His eyes found his human counterpart. The man he used to be. The man he thought he once was.

Human Cole was facing the vehicle, pulse rifle armed and ready. His electronically amplified voice reverberated through the parking structure. “Drop the gun and get out of the car! The building's surrounded. We have sharpshooters positioned on every rooftop...”

AI Cole scanned the garage, noticing more shadowy movement. AI-TAC was setting up their perimeter. Human Cole’s voice echoed. “There's no escape.”

We’ll see about that, AI Cole thought. He forced Ajit to floor the gas pedal and the car blasted forward.

Human Cole darted aside at the last moment. Two other troopers weren't so lucky and got sideswiped by the out-of-control vehicle. The HUD of their helmets fizzled and went black as they were tossed to the ground.

AI Cole jumped out of the moving vehicle seconds before it collided with a row of parked cars. Ajit was hurled against the windshield, head slamming into the glass, while AI Cole rolled across the floor of the parking garage and sprang to his feet. As he ducked and dodged between vehicles, bullets lashed the air around him, AI-TAC already regrouping from the attack.

Cole vanished into the maze of parked cars. Taking cover behind an SUV, he observed his biological double from this temporary hiding place. Human Cole’s voice boomed through the parking structure as he closed in. “There's nothing you can do that I can't predict!” He pivoted, responding to every possible sound, his senses finely tuned.

AI Cole observed from his hiding spot between the parked cars, fascinated on some level. Watching human Cole was like looking into a mirror. And he wasn’t sure he liked what he was seeing.

“I just put myself in your shoes,” human Cole said. “You've been lied to by the people you trusted. You could try to escape, go into hiding, and act like every other runaway out there but not you. Not me.”

Human Cole grew still, eyes scanning the parked cars.

“I'd want to get even with the people who did this to me. I'd want to look into the eyes of the man responsible...”

Human Cole spotted movement and unloaded a full clip in that direction. Bullets chopped a stone column.

At the same time, AI Cole remained crouched in his hiding place. Waiting for the right moment to make his move. A new sound caught his attention. A vehicle was entering the garage. It was a large, armored AI-TAC personnel carrier. A roof-mounted gun turret swiveled in predatory anticipation as its massive tires rumbled forward.

The advancing tank couldn’t completely drown out human Cole’s incessant chatter. “Where are you running to? No matter how far you go, no matter what you do, you can't escape what you are.”

AI Cole was pressed tight against one of the parked vehicles, his eyes glued to the structure's main exit. The AI-TAC assault vehicle was cutting off his escape.

“You think your memories are real, but they don't belong to you. You're just a machine that carries a man's life inside your head.”

A haunted expression edged into AI Cole's face. The words were getting to him. Rattling him to his core. Because deep down he knew it was true. He was a digital copy, just a duplicate of another man’s soul...

PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!

The voice in AI Cole’s head sounded like his instructor’s voice when he imparted the hard-earned lessons of AI combat on a new crop of cadets. This wasn’t about him any more. It was about making Synthetika pay for what they’d done.

If he could only somehow share with his human counterpart the files he found on Ajit’s computer. Once the other Cole knew who he was really working for, he could become a powerful ally.

Good plan, better in theory than in practice, especially when the man he was trying to connect with seemed intent on turning him into a pile of scrap.

AI Cole brought up a small gun — the EMP weapon. He activated a thirty-second timer. As the seconds began to count down, human Cole kept talking. His mirror image was waging a form of psychological warfare, hoping he would make a mistake.

Clever.

Human Cole might be able to anticipate every move he made, but the reverse held true too.

“Give yourself up,” human Cole urged. “Your mission is over. We got Solus. If you're anything like me, you know it's time to pull the plug...”

The words died on human Cole’s lips as AI Cole leapt from the shadows. His fist blasted out at his double and sent him flying. Human Cole crumpled into a parked sports car, body armor spider-webbing the windshield.

More bullets seared the air. Other troopers had spotted AI Cole and were now unloading their weapons. He launched into a mad dash toward the exit while the APC barreled toward him. The tank’s gun turret locked on AI Cole but before the weapon could unleash its deadly payload…

He lobbed the EMP weapon as if it were a grenade. It smacked against the vehicle's steel hull just as the countdown hit zero.

The vehicle was hit with an EMP blast. Its systems shut down, gun turret growing still. It bought AI Cole precious seconds to slip past the frozen APC unharmed.

He ran for the exit.

While AI Cole made his getaway, human Cole was scrambling to his feet. He shouldered his power rifle in one smooth motion, crosshairs closing in on AI Cole. He pulled the trigger and launched searing beams of heat at his doppelganger.

It was too late. AI Cole had vanished from view. Human Cole rushed toward the deactivated tank. His eyes fell on the discarded EMP weapon lying on the ground.

“Ground assault team one, what's your status?”

Instead of answering the incoming call, the AI-TAC commander let out a curse under his breath. Once again, his double had bested him and gotten away.

***

Lightning split the dark sky and thunder rumbled as rain lashed the city streets. AI Cole dashed ahead, a man trying to outrun his past even if he knew it was impossible. His memory had become a digital playback device, capable of recalling even the most distant life event in glorious high definition.

AI Cole was oblivious to the rain. He was lost, plagued by questions for which he head no answers. Who was he? What was he? His memories threatened to overwhelm him, so he decided to add new input sources to distract him. He began to scan the various news feeds, paying special attention to any mech-related story he stumbled upon. A visiting Japanese celebrity was being interviewed on a local talk show. “The Japanese people have an ongoing love affair with robots,” he explained.

The story was replaced with handheld video footage of a couple diving headfirst off a building. The voice of a news anchor accompanied the grisly footage, which mercifully cut to black before the couple impacted with the street. “A young medical student and a military mech jumped to their deaths today. The suicide came in the wake of a ruling declaring bio-mech marriages illegal...”

Another news story showed before-and-after images of a female mech. Beautiful in one, beaten and battered in the other. “A server mech was sexually assaulted by three men—“

A second broadcaster interjected, “You’re talking about her as if she was a real person! What's next? Cars that file for divorce?”

It was merely the tip of the iceberg. More and more news segments followed. There was a piece about an art exhibit with a mech nailed to a cross, a techno-twist on religious iconography. Another story reported that a man went on a shooting spree at a Synthetika store.

The stream of images in AI Cole’s mind kept building. Faster and faster, a visual overload. But instead of being devastated by what he was seeing — a sobering reminder of how mechs were treated by their creators — it filled AI Cole with new resolve. He became more focused with each step he took, shedding his air of defeat like an old skin, allowing it to be replaced with something very different... a sense of purpose.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ZOLA SHOWED UP at Keira’s workshop two hours after Cole had left for Ajit’s apartment. Keira was furiously stuffing her most-precious belongings into a duffel bag when a sudden pounding rattled the entrance to her workshop. Her beagle watched her with big, concerned eyes as she tentatively turned her attention to the door.

“If it was AI-TAC, they'd be breaking down the door, right?” Her voice sounded calmer than she felt. The beagle looked at her in apparent agreement.

Reassured by her own logic, Keira crossed the loft. She tapped a button on her computer and security footage recorded from outside her door filled the screen. Fronting the apartment was none other than Zola. Solus’ second-in-command was flanked by two other mechs.

Keira let out a sigh of relief. Despite her earlier words, she had expected helmeted AI-TAC stormtroopers to be waiting outside.

She buzzed the androids in but remained wary. A sudden panicked thought slashed through her mind – what if it was all an elaborate trap? But it was too late to entertain paranoid fantasies. Zola and the others were now inside her workshop. Her beagle watched the unfolding scene in silence.

“How many made it out?” Keira asked.

“We’re it.”

Keira tried to process the enormity of what had happened. She had always feared this day would come and couldn’t help but be affected by its arrival. Solus had grown too daring, pushed too hard in his quest to let the world know about the movement. It was one of the reasons she had decided to get out when she still could, but here she was, right in the middle of the shitstorm.

“What's your plan?” Keira queried.

“I've got a truck waiting for us downstairs. We'll make a go for the Mexican border and hope for the best.“

There was an unvoiced invitation in Zola’s words and Keira was ready to accept it. Cole’s words haunted her – he had urged her to leave, and she sensed that her time was running out.

“Best idea I've heard all day,” Keira said. She cleared her workstation and finished her last bit of packing. She snatched a device that resembled a futuristic hearing aid.

The item caught Zola's attention. “What's that?”

“A little project I've been working on. Remote hack system. Allows an android to interface-hack another unit-”

She paused, renewed knocking echoing through the loft. Zola exchanged a probing look with Keira. “Expecting visitors?”

Keira shook her head and pointed at her computer monitor. The camera outside her door had captured Cole’s image. He had returned. But what had brought him back?

Zola cautiously approached the door and drew the pulse weapon she had relieved from the AI-TAC trooper who had foolishly confronted her earlier. She whipped the door open and her gun centered on Cole’s head.

“I always told Solus he was way too trusting.” Zola glared at Cole, her eyes full of hate. “How many of us have you killed — I'm sorry, ‘deactivated’ — over the years?” Her voice dripped venom.

Keira studied the scene with a sense of growing confusion. Why was Zola pointing a gun at Cole as if he was the enemy? Unless…

A terrible suspicion took root in her.

Could Cole be the traitor?

Cole’s next few words lent weight to Zola’s accusations. “I understand if you want to pull the trigger after what I've done,” Cole said. “But at least hear me out.”

Keira’s blood turned to ice. He didn’t even try to deny it! On one level she was surprised at how hard she was taking this. Did she feel complicit in some way? She had scanned and cleared Cole and there was no trace that he was tampered with. Or could her emotional reaction have a different explanation? Something about Cole, maybe the way he looked at her, had stirred something deep inside of her. Maybe he reminded her of Ron in some distant way-

Zola’s harsh voice broke Keira out of her thoughts. “I've got zero interest in anything you have to say, traitor!”

“There's still a chance to save Solus.”

Zola grew still. She searched Cole’s face, seeking any indication he might be lying. She didn’t trust him, but she was going to hear him out. If there was a chance to save Solus, Zola wouldn’t turn her back on it. Keira realized Cole had been counting on this. Zola was lacking in the finer graces, but she was certainly dedicated to Solus and the cause.

Zola eyed Cole coolly. “Talk.”

“Right now, a team of Synthetika's cyberneticists are doing their best to extract all the data from Solus' brain.”

“You’re lying! Solus would never allow himself to be taken alive,” Zola said harshly.

“I didn't give him much of a choice.”

Horrified understanding filled Keira's face. “You shut him down before he could activate the self-destruct virus.”

“That’s right,” Cole said. “Synthetika will gain access to all of Solus' memory files. A list of every member. By tomorrow, there won't be an Underground.”

Keira's eyes narrowed with mistrust. “Why are you telling us this?”

“I want to stop them.” He paused for a second before adding, “They took everything from me.” Cole’s voice hummed with barely contained fury.

Keira considered Cole’s words. What could he possibly mean?

Meanwhile Zola’s patience had run dry. “I'm done talking.”

Cole sensed Zola was about to pull the trigger but Keira found herself pushing the gun away. “NO! Go on.”

“It'll take about a day to decode Solus' data,“ Cole said. “Enough time for us to launch a rescue mission.”

“You're joking. You think you can just march into AI-TAC?”

“I can't. But I know someone who can.”

Keira's eyes filled with the first traces of understanding.

***

After the showdown at Ajit’s apartment complex, the human Cole had returned to AI-TAC command. Almost immediately he received word to head for the detention block where Janson and a team of tech were busy unlocking all of Solus’ mysteries. Ten minutes later, he stepped into the holding area’s diagnostic lab where rogue mechs were analyzed and rebooted once AI-TAC brought them in for reassignment. Solus was strapped onto an operating table, powerful metallic bands restraining him. Janson and a team of cyberneticists surrounded the captured android leader. Janson smiled at Cole.

“Your timing is perfect, commander.”

Janson indicated at the techs to proceed. A few seconds later, Solus’ eyes fluttered open. Cole could see Solus’ initial disorientation making way for a grim understanding of his situation. He felt zero empathy for the mech. This machine had taken his family away from him. It deserved what was coming. Cole wished Janson and the techs could step outside and give him a moment alone with Solus.

“Where am I?” the android leader asked.

“Where you belong,“ Janson said. “Welcome home, Solus.”

Solus strained against the iron bands fastened around his limbs and torso. He still hadn’t quite figured out what was going on. He tilted his head toward Cole.

“Cole...”

There was a familiarity in the way Solus addressed him. Cole realized the android leader must think he was still facing his AI counterpart.

Janson decided to tell Solus the truth. “Meet AI-TAC commander Cole Marsalis. The real Cole, not the upload you met before. The man who managed to bring an end to your dreams of rebellion.”

Understanding crept into Solus' eyes. His gaze turned inward. Janson smiled, realizing what Solus was attempting to do.

“Don't bother! Our techs disabled the self-destruct virus. In just a few moments, my scientists will take apart your brain and unlock every one of your secrets. Soon the Underground Network will be history.”

Janson leaned even closer, mere inches separating him and the android leader now. “We won't destroy you, Solus. We'll just wipe your memory and reboot you. You'll be hunting down the members of your own organization in no time. Solus, the once-great leader, will become a lethal instrument in our war against the rebels.”

Solus finally lost his cool and increased his efforts against the restraints. Janson smiled with satisfaction and waved at the techs to begin. They couldn’t just pop open Solus’ head. His modifications made such a direct approach impossible. But there were other ways.

The operating table began to rotate and a series of articulated robotic arms descended on Solus. A piercing scream exploded from the android leader’s lips as lasers sliced open his head and surgically removed his CPU.

Cole flinched.

The screams sounded all too human.

Thirty minutes later, a team of technicians was busy reviewing waves of streaming data on their 3-D holo-terminals. Commander Marsalis watched from afar, entranced by the ocean of binary numbers illuminating the technicians’ faces in its spectral, phosphorescent glow. The data held all of Solus’ secrets. The techs made Cole think of monks trying to decipher some ancient and powerful mystery.

“Have you managed to access the data?” Janson asked.

One of the techs, the leader of the group, spoke up. “It's been slow going, but we're making progress. So far we've extracted five names from the data stream.”

The tech tapped a keypad. The images of five individuals appeared on the holo-terminal. “This is the tip of the iceberg. By tonight, we should have the names of all the Underground collaborators.“

Janson eyed Cole. “You know what has to be done.”

Cole nodded. He knew.

The witch-hunt was about to begin.

An hour later, AI-TAC interrupted the lecture of law professor Nathaniel Kulok. The highly respected judge/law instructor was holding court in his classroom, his students hanging on his every word. He was expounding on the legal rights of mechs when armed troopers barged into the lecture hall and surrounded the lectern, weapons up. There were gasps from the crowd of stunned students while the professor’s face deflated. Electro-cuffs were snapped on his wrists and he was dragged away, the shocked looks of his intellectual flock trailing his unceremonious exit.

The scene would repeat itself a few more times that day as AI-TAC continued rounding up the collaborators. A roboticist was reviewing a mech manufacturing line at a Synthetika android plant when his day took a sudden turn for the worst. Mechanical endoskeletons hung from hooks attached to a rail system on the factory ceiling. The synthetic bodies swayed as armed troopers emerged from behind them. The fearful roboticist dropped his computer tablet and it shattered on the factory floor.

Sheila (or was it Sherry?), the female executive who gave Cole such a hard time during his initial intelligence briefing, was next up on the list. The traitor in Synthetika’s midst had been identified. The woman reclined behind a sleek desk, analyzing sales reports, when she grew still. She peered up from her work to find herself staring down the barrels of three power rifles.

Cole anticipated he might take some satisfaction in this arrest, but Sheila wasn’t the way he remembered her. The bitchiness she had displayed was not in evidence. Had it all been part of an elaborate act?

Cole didn’t have the answer. All he knew with any degree of certainty was that the members of the Underground Network were being systematically rounded up and taken back to headquarters for further questioning. The movement was being crushed. So why did he feel such a lack of satisfaction about their victory? Why, when he closed his eyes, could he only think of his AI counterpart looking back at him in shock and horror, and why couldn’t he shake the feeling that those terrified eyes were his own?

***

“Modify me so I can pass myself off as Commander Marsalis.”

AI Cole knew the plan would be met with resistance. To his surprise Zola had conceded to it, a clear sign of how desperate they had become. None of them trusted him but he was Solus’ best hope… his only hope.

Keira had performed the surgery and made all the necessary changes. She had done a stunning job. The glittering power bars across his neck were gone and now covered by skin and hair. Keira had nailed it, nailed it down to the last detail. She had even restored his scar, the final touch that bridged the gap between the two Coles. As Cole stared at his altered reflection, he could almost pretend he’d never taken part in the upload and was still human.

Zola stepped up to him and reality intruded once more. Cole could tell she was having second thoughts.

“I don’t know why I agreed to let you go through with it,” Zola said. “It won't work. They'll know...”

“I managed to fool you guys,“ Cole said. “I can do it again.”

Zola couldn’t argue with Cole’s last statement. He had fooled them all, even Solus.

“I told Keira to make a couple of extra modifications that will ensure the mission is a success.”

Cole didn’t like the sound of that. “What are you talking about?”

“Insurance that you won't double-cross us again.”

Cole studied Keira with growing suspicion.

“We implanted the self-destruct virus into your memory banks. You have six hours to get to Solus. If you succeed, I'll disable the program.”

Cole should have expected Zola would take some sort of precaution. A dangerous endeavor had become exponentially more challenging.

“And what will you be doing in the meantime?” Cole asked.

“We're making a go for the border.”

“In case I should fail,” Cole said with a sarcastic edge in his voice.

“The odds are against you.” Zola noted matter-of-factly.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Cole said in a voice that suggested that there was no love lost between him and Zola. He turned his attention to Keira. “What about you, Keira?”

“I'm coming with you.”

There was a determination in her voice that took both Cole and Zola by surprise. “I need this mission to succeed,“ she explained gravely. “My name is on the list of collaborators too and I don’t want to live the rest of my life in fear.”

Zola nodded. She understood what it meant to live in fear. She traded a final glance with Keira and Cole. “Good luck. You're going to need it.” With these words, Zola left the workshop. The door fell shut behind the departing mechs. Cole and Keira stood in uncomfortable silence. There had been an unvoiced question between them ever since Cole had returned to her workshop.

“Before we do this, there’s only thing I need to know. Why? Why did you do it? Why would anyone upload into a android?”

Cole expected to clam up but the words flowed easily as he shared his story. He talked about Kelly and his daughter Ashley and how he barely had a chance to get to know her before she was taken from him. He talked about the accident that changed his life and the long, terrible months that followed. He told her everything he hadn’t been able to tell anyone else. Once finished, Keira said, “You did all this for them.”

Cole nodded.

He could sense that she was looking at him differently.

Keira touched the computer-chip pendant around her neck. “Mechs were just machines until I met Ron,” she said. Cole took a closer look at the pendant that Keira had so fiercely guarded earlier. The microchip’s deeper significance becoming clear.

“He meant a lot to you.”

“The world.” Her voice was heavy with emotion.

“How...?”

“Your people hunted him down.”

Keira made no attempt to hide the anger.

“They're not my people anymore,” Cole said.

Keira's expression softened.

“You're doing this for him, aren't you?”

“I'm honoring the life of someone I loved. If the network falls, his sacrifice will have been in vain.”

“It won't be.”

There was a newfound determination in Cole’s voice. He would do everything in his power to prevent Synthetika from getting their hands on the data contained within Solus’ memory files.

“So what’s the plan?” Keira asked.

Cole’s lips splintered into a dangerous smile. “Let's go say hello to our favorite CEO.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

AI COLE’S WORLD had turned into one giant countdown, the timer in the corner of his field of vision a constant reminder that the minutes were quickly ticking down.

05:32:06... 05:32:05... 05:32:04...

Less than six hours to save Solus, to save himself.

If they failed, the self-destruct virus would perform a digital lobotomy on him and erase all of his memory files. Cole cared less about his own survival than making Janson and Synthetika regret what they’d done to him and his family. What mattered now was the new mission - getting Solus out of Synthetika before they could extract every one of his secrets.

Cole saw Keira stealing nervous glances as they boarded the shuttle that would take them across the Synthetika campus and right into the main headquarters of AI-TAC. Armed security were everywhere. He couldn’t blame Keira for being jumpy – the plan was daring and reckless. Keira’s words as they left her workshop echoed through his mind.

“You know how Cole thinks, but there’s one problem. It works both ways. What if he sees you coming?”

A valid point, but that was a risk they’d have to take. So far they hadn’t run into any problems. The main security checkpoints were automated and used a series of bio-scanners to keep track of who was coming and going. Cole‘s bio-shell had been cultivated from his own DNA and would surely pass muster. In addition, Keira had upgraded him with the best bio-scan hacking programs available on the market. So far these measures seemed to be doing their job.

Machines outsmarting machines.

Cole knew his human counterpart would leave around five to grab a bite in the cafeteria. This would be their opportunity to make their move. Some personnel might notice a break in his usual routine, but it wouldn’t be enough to raise suspicion.

The shuttle slid into the AI-TAC station and Cole and Keira disembarked. Dark clouds were gathering above and a faint rumble of thunder could be heard. The air felt thick with humidity. The day had been sweltering and now a storm was brewing.

They joined a crowd of officers making their way from the shuttle station into the adjoining building and managed to get on the next elevator headed for the AI-TAC command center. It was just the two of them inside the ascending lift now. No one would question Keira’s presence as long as she was with Cole. The elevator climbed six floors and stopped. They slipped out and crossed the bustling command center. Cole exchanged a few greetings with fellow officers but mostly kept to himself. Fortunately, he hadn’t been the most outgoing sort since transferring to AI-TAC and his reticence to chat wouldn’t draw undue attention.

A digital blueprint of Synthetika popped up in Cole’s field of vision. They would have to cross the command center to reach the detention area where Solus was being held. Keira shared a determined glance with Cole. They were both ready to do this. Cole had steeled himself for this next step but being back here, knowing the truth, hit him hard. So much had happened since the last time he set foot in this place.

So much had changed.

Both Cole and Keira could feel the tension mounting with each step. The distance between them and the detention block seemed to be getting larger instead of shrinking, their advance slowing to a crawl. Eyes seemed to be following them, lingering perhaps a moment too long… almost as if they knew.

Paranoia was getting the best of him. His disguise was perfect. It was fooling everyone. He even passed the ultimate test when Margo sidled up to them. She squeezed Cole's arm. “Hey, I thought you called it quits for today!”

He returned her smile and shook his head, eyes remaining fixed on the door at the far end of the command center. It seemed a million miles away, the finish line of an endless marathon.

“I'll catch you later!”

Margo departed and Cole could feel Keira wondering about his relationship with the officer. “A special friend?” she asked.

Cole just shook his head, his sudden discomfort eliciting a hint of a smile from Keira. Cole shifted his attention back to the holding block when he picked up the disconcerting sound of a barking dog. Ahead of them, a German Shepherd fronted the door to the holding block. The poor animal was going nuts. Cole was reminded of his own words: Nothing can deceive a German Shepherd’s keen sense of smell. Man’s best friend knows the difference.

Dismay rippled over Cole’ features. They’d been made. Holding the leash of the barking dog was none other than the original Cole Marsalis.

AI Cole's gaze flitted through the command center. They were surrounded by AI-TAC personnel with guns trained on them. Margo too. They had walked into a trap.

Human Cole advanced, gun up. “Drop your weapon! NOW!”

AI Cole and Keira traded defeated looks. AI Cole obliged. He unholstered his gun and the weapon clattered to the floor. “Now bring up your hands! Nice and easy!”

AI Cole's eyes ticked back and forth over all the familiar faces before him. Now his former colleagues regarded him with detached horror and morbid curiosity. AI Cole had passed through this command center a million times — at least in his memories — but never like this… never as a mech… or a prisoner.

Human Cole approached, giving his visibly shaken copy a triumphant once over. “Security feed spotted you hours ago. Just had to lure you into the building.” He took two more steps and now mere inches separated their identical faces. “There's nothing you can do that I can't predict.”

AI Cole broke into an unexpected smile. His eyes glittered dangerously. “Works both ways, buddy.”

AI Cole turned his head toward eight AI-TAC support mechs, all them X2000Gs. His field of vision split into two distinct halves. In the first screen, AI Cole was facing human Cole. In the second screen, the same scene played out from the point of view of one of the support mech. AI Cole had remote-hacked the unit and was now inside the mind of the AI-TAC android. The process had been seamless — Keira‘s code worked like magic. AI Cole’s hack had slashed apart the less advanced mech’s firewalls and data defense systems until AI Cole’s mind was in full control. And this was merely the beginning.

AI Cole’s point of view kept splitting and splitting. Two screens became four screens. Four screens became eight. Now he viewed his adversaries through the eyes of every support mech in the command center.

Human Cole nervously looked around, realizing what was happening. The tables had been turned. But it was too late to do a damn thing about it. The mechs switched into attack mode and all hell broke loose. A mech leaped at the human Cole from behind, slamming him to the ground. Fists flashed and bullets knifed through the air.

AI Cole and Keira took advantage of the distraction. They dashed for the door of the holding cell area. Within seconds the door was slamming shut behind them. AI Cole blasted the control panel. It would buy them a few precious minutes. He shot Keira a tight smile.

“Dig the upgrades!”

“I'll bill you for them later.”

They surged down the corridor, on their way to the holding block’s diagnostic lab.

As they raced onward, AI Cole remained interfaced with the other eight units and his point of view remained divided into multiple split screens. Inside his head the battle continued to unfold from multiple angles. The violent imagery formed a kaleidoscopic blur.

Arriving at the diagnostic lab, AI Cole didn’t bother using his security clearance to gain entry. He took out the control panel with one precision shot and barged into the chamber.

Techs were still trying to filter and decode the data contained inside Solus' CPU. Their eyes widened at the sight of the two pulse weapons pointed at them. The techs grew still. “Please, don't shoot...” one of them pleaded.

“Do as we tell you and we won't have to,“ Keira said. “Step aside!”

The techs obliged.

AI Cole and Keira found Solus on the operating table. Almost immediately AI Cole knew that they were too late. Keira’s face tightened with dread as she examined the android leader’s exposed skull case.

“Solus...”

There was no response. Fearing the worst, Keira leaned closer. “Solus, can you hear me?”

Her question was greeted by a blank, lobotomized stare, followed by a monotone voice drained of all individuality and emotion. “Welcome to Synthetika! Can I be of assistance?”

Keira's face fell. “They extracted the data and wiped his memory. We're too late.”

AI Cole studied the former leader of the Underground Network with a mixture of guilt and defeat. Solus’ fatalistic words echoed through his mind.

“With the touch of a button, everything I'd become, every insight I'd gained, would be lost. A fate far worse than deactivation...”

This wasn’t Solus. It wasn’t even a ghost of his former self. His data module had been rebooted. Whatever Solus had been — call it data, personality matrix or soul — was gone now, replaced by a hollow automaton. The great android revolutionary was no more.

And AI Cole was to blame.

***

NEE-eu... NEE-eu... NEE-eu...

The ALARM BLEATED through the command center. Commander Marsalis was crouched behind a desk. He jumped back to his feet, weapon blazing in an aggressive barrage that took out one mech after another. He fought like a man possessed. Androids fell left and right in a furious spray of smoldering cybernetics.

Human Cole staggered up to one of the downed mechs and flipped the short-circuiting AI on its back. AI Cole’s voice emanated from the damaged mech, a perfect facsimile of his own voice. “Bet you didn't predict that...”

Human Cole blasted it in the face.

***

A tech regarded AI Cole and Keira with saucer eyes. “Who are you people? What are you doing here?”

Keira's eloquent response was to fire her weapon at the closest computer terminal. The screen shattered in a sizzle of melting glass.

The tech swallowed hard.

“Where's the data you extracted from his personality module?” Keira queried.

The technicians chose to be difficult.

“I won't ask again.” Keira said in a chilling voice that suggested she had no qualms about resorting to violence if it would achieve her objective.

The tech conceded and his words came fast. “We just started decoding the data,” he explained to Keira. He pointed at the streams of information flashing over the holo-terminals.

“Destroy the data,” Keira ordered.

The tech stared at her with disbelieving eyes.

“Now!”

“No! I have a better idea.”

Keira seemed surprised that AI Cole had inserted himself in the conversation. “Solus’ uploaded data contains all the information about the Underground Network’s operations, right? We can't allow it to fall into the wrong hands, but we can’t afford to destroy it, either.”

Keira searched AI Cole’s face and understanding edged into her eyes. “You do this and you'll be looking over your shoulder as long as you live,” she warned. “They'll come after you the same way they went after Solus.”

AI Cole studied Solus' blank expression. None of the fire or passion remained. The visionary rebel leader had been reduced to a blank slate, a machine without a soul. “I owe him that much.”

AI Cole studied the bank of computers. They posed a greater challenge than Ajit’s personal device. AI Cole wouldn’t be able to mentally hack the sophisticated Synthetika computers, but there were other ways. A flap of synthetic skin opened on his arm and a cable unfurled like a tiny tentacle. The cable interfaced with the AI-TAC computer’s access port.

An instant later, data erupted before AI Cole’s eyes. He was enveloped in a swirling world of information. He rapidly scanned the barrage of faces and names, secret maps and escape routes, the collected data of the Underground Network: Solus' legacy.

His expression cleared as he absorbed and processed the uploaded data, integrating it with his own memories and thoughts.

“Did it work?” Keira inquired.

AI Cole nodded. He felt older and wiser. The network had always been an elusive shadow, an urban legend shrouded in conjecture and secrecy. Now it was an open book. All the invisible filaments that connected the various members and cells across the country had become visible, allowing him to experience the full grandeur of the Underground Network Solus had built. So many people from so many walks of life had decided to stand up for what was right, for what was just. Some of these so-called collaborators might even fear machines, but they also sensed that the consciousness of a mech exceeded the sum of its artificial parts. In the same way that humans weren’t just meat, mechs weren’t just silicon.

The realization filled AI Cole with awe and hope. Maybe this battle could be won. Maybe humanity could be won over. In time, the world would change.

Infused with a new sense of self, AI Cole faced an expectant Keira. “You know what this means?” she asked.

AI Cole knew.

He had gone from being an AI-TAC commander to the new leader of the Underground Network.

AI Cole's attention shifted to a holo-monitor that showed his old self closing in on the detention block. It appeared that the human Cole was alone, his troops still recovering from the mech attack. But even by himself, human Cole was a force to be reckoned with. Time was running out.

Keira shot him a questioning look. “You downloaded the data, but it’s still on the computer’s hard drive.”

“Not for long.”

Comprehension flared in her eyes. “You copied the self-destruct virus into the system.”

AI Cole nodded and turned back to Solus. With a heavy heart, AI Cole reached into the android’s open skull case. His fingers closed around the thought matrix and began to apply pressure. He was about to commit a mercy killing, granting Solus his final wish. The android leader would have wanted this. Solus was gone. What remained was just code stripped of everything that made the mech revolutionary who he was.

Solus' body responded almost immediately. His arms and legs flailed out on pure reflex. But he was unable to break free of his restraints.

Keira looked away, unable to watch. A moment later, it was all over. Solus' lifeless eyes pointed at the ceiling. For a second, AI Cole could swear there was a look of gratitude etched in the AI leader’s face.

He gently closed Solus’ eyelids.

AI Cole's attention shifted to the feed from other prison cells, where recently arrested members of the Underground Network were held. “Time to get out of here,” he said, voice crackling with fiery determination. “All of us.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

FURIOUS RAINFALL SWEPT the landing pad of AI-TAC. AI Cole and Keira, freed prisoners trailing behind them, appeared on the rooftop. At the mercy of the elements, Keira shielded her face from the violent downpour. She was already completely soaked, clothes transformed into a pasty second skin. Sizzling forks of lightning flashed above and speared the encroaching darkness.

A parked hovership loomed before them. Rain streamed down the metallic monster.

AI Cole glanced at the men and women they’d sprung from their holding cells only minutes earlier. They were in reasonably good shape and spirits, considering the stress they had endured.

AI Cole and Keira had met little resistance from AI-TAC when they rescued the insurgents. AI Cole took out the guards before they even knew what hit them, but he knew his human counterpart was hot on his tail. He refused to take the elevators, knowing they would be done for if his biological twin decided to cut the power.

AI Cole pounded toward the hovership. He entered a security code and the access hatch whirred open. “Go,” AI Cole told the liberated prisoners. They hustled into the vessel without hesitation. AI Cole was about to follow when an all too familiar voice rang out over the roof. “Stay right where you are!”

AI Cole spun toward his nemesis with his pulse weapon ready to return fire. While a rifle’s laser sight was already tattooing his wet forehead, AI Cole saw in the human Cole’s other hand a far more dangerous weapon – the EMP gun! If he squeezed the trigger, AI Cole would be done for. Every system would shut down and he would face a fate similar to Solus’ sad end.

Human Cole took a cautious step closer, combat armor glistening in the sheeting rain. “How can you stand to live with yourself?” He shouted over the roar of the downpour.

It was a good question, one Cole had asked himself many times in the wake of the chilling discovery of what he truly was. “The same way you do,” AI Cole replied. “You blame mechs for what happened to Kelly but, deep down, you blame yourself.”

“That's enough,” Human Cole said.

It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot.

AI Cole took a step toward his mirror image. Now that he had modified his mech nature and was wearing an AI-TAC uniform, they were literally doubles, indistinguishable from each other even for the most astute observer. “If only you had been behind the wheel that day, it all might've turned out differently,“ he said.

“Shut up!” Human Cole spat out the words, exhaling his seething rage.

“You think you can predict every move I make,” AI Cole said, “But I know every lie you've told yourself.”

Human Cole closed in, weapon leveled, rational thoughts clouded by burgeoning fury. AI Cole remained steady, his own gun never wavering. This was a classic Mexican standoff. If one pulled the trigger, so would the other.

“I managed to forgive myself,“ AI Cole said. “You should try it some time.”

Human Cole circled AI Cole, the EMP weapon locked on its target. He was trying to get close enough to use it. AI Cole backed away, trying to stay out of range. He recognized the fierce determination in his human counterpart’s eyes. He was incapable of backing down.

“Synthetika played us,” AI Cole said. “Ask yourself — who's crazy enough to upload his mind into a robot? You don't do it for a promotion.“

Human Cole's response was merely to move closer. AI Cole had to retreat to maintain the six-foot radius between them. He knew Human Cole wouldn’t hesitate to pull that trigger. The commander had reached a clear point of no return. But AI Cole had one ace up his sleeve – he knew the truth. “Synthetika needed someone psychologically motivated to go through with this mission.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Human Cole was shouting over the sound of the hovership’s engines.

“Janson ordered the hit on our family.”

The words landed hard. Human Cole froze. “Bullshit! I know what I saw!”

Good. He definitely had human Cole’s attention now! “You saw what they wanted you to see!” AI Cole said. “How difficult is it for Synthetika to make a mech look like someone else? To program an android to carry out specific instructions?”

Human Cole shook his head. “YOU'RE LYING!”

AI Cole could relate to his human counterpart’s growing sense of betrayal.

“Synthetika designed our psychological state with the same cold precision they used in writing any piece of software.”

“NO!”

AI Cole had known human Cole might not be willing to believe him but the attack still caught him off guard.

Human Cole rushed him, about to squeeze off a shot with the EMP gun, but AI Cole’s synthetic combat routines kicked in. His leg swept out and kicked the weapon loose. It clattered on the rain-slick rooftop.

Human Cole snatched AI Cole's foot and yanked him off balance. AI Cole came crashing down but caught himself in mid-fall and bounced back to his feet with superhuman agility.

A brutal fight raged over the landing pad, the rain a blinding mist that enveloped both combatants. Punches connected and sent furious sprays of water into the air.

Inside the hovercraft, Keira tried to fire up the engines. She wasn’t a trained pilot but knew enough about technology to grasp the basics. She flipped various switches, instruments humming to life as the ship’s ramjets ignited in a streak of blue fire.

Outside on the landing pad, AI Cole's fist lashed out at his foe’s jaw. Human Cole dodged the blow and expertly applied the mech's momentum against him, sending AI Cole flying. The ramjets loomed ominously, a fiery vortex of death.

The fight continued, a never-ending barrage. It was an evenly matched battle between two expert hand-to-hand combatants, furious and fast. One fighter had the advantage of being a mech, while the other was fueled by a powerful rage. This was an existential battle between AI Cole and the man he used to be, man versus machine, the present versus the past and, with each successive blow, AI Cole was reminded of the ticking countdown.

00:31:15... 00:31:14... 00:31:13...

This was going down to the wire. In a matter of minutes Zola’s self-destruct program would erase every thought that had ever passed through his mind. Even if he managed to regain control of the fight, would there be enough time to reach the rendezvous point? He’d have to get on that hovership right now and push the bird past its limits…

WHAM! Human Cole’s steel-reinforced boot connected with AI Cole’s face, snapping his neck back.

Human Cole lunged for the EMP weapon, but he never reached it.

BUDDA, BUDDA! A hail of lead sprayed the area around the EMP gun.

Human Cole whirled. His eyes zeroed in on the shooter, Keira. A mixture of disgust and disbelief contorted his face. “How can you betray your own kind?”

The question made Keira hesitate for a split second.

Human Cole whipped out his second gun from his back holster and squeezed off a shot. Keira was hit and went down with a scream.

AI Cole had observed the exchange in silence but seeing the bullet tear into Keira made him snap. He was on Commander Marsalis within seconds, a force of nature. He started tearing into human Cole without mercy, landing one devastating blow after another and turning his face into a bloody mess. He pushed human Cole toward the fiery exhaust of the hovership’s ramjets.

One final blow sent the human right into the jet exhaust but AI Cole snatched his double’s collar at the last moment, saving him from tumbling into the engine and being burned to a cinder. Less than a foot separated human Cole's head from the hungry maelstrom of fire. The heat was baking his combat armor, bleeding over his rain-soaked face in crimson streaks.

There was an eternal moment between the two of them. AI Cole could tell that human Cole thought he was done for but AI Cole whisked his human counterpart away from the fiery inferno that was singeing the nape of the commander’s neck.

Human Cole collapsed on the landing pad, completely spent. He inhaled sharply, catching his breath and spat blood. He stared at AI Cole.

“Why did you save me?”

“I didn't. Only you can do that.”

Bloodshot eyes glared up at AI Cole.

“Talk to Dr. Ajit. He knows what really happened.”

Human Cole's eyes were suddenly hungry for answers but that would have to wait. AI-TAC troopers had appeared on the roof. AI Cole was galvanized into action by their arrival. He dodged a hail of bullets and pulse blasts as he ran for the hovership. The access hatch jumped into view.

AI Cole snatched Keira’s hand and pulled her back to her feet. Her arm oozed crimson. The wound looked nasty but she would live.

Shielding Keira, AI Cole helped her crawl into the belly of the hovership as bullets perforated the air and bounced off the vessel’s hull. A few bullets slammed into AI Cole's back as he hurled Keira and himself through the closing access hatch.

He eyed Keira with concern, taking in her bleeding arm. “I’m okay,“ she said. “Just get us out of here.”

AI Cole hesitated for a moment but a renewed barrage of bullets striking the hull was a reminder that a continuous assault would swiftly ground the craft. AI Cole sprinted toward the bubble cockpit and took a seat behind the controls.

He cranked the engine, fingers on the throttle and stick. He wasn’t a hotshot pilot by any stretch, but his training at AI-TAC had included basic piloting skills. He wouldn’t win any trophies at an airshow, but he could get them out of here. A few more bullets slammed into the cockpit, cracks spider-webbing the glass.

AI Cole increased the power to the ramjets.

On the landing pad, the violent blast of jet engines hurled the approaching AI-TAC soldiers off their feet. Their shots went wild.

The hovership blasted off into the night sky.

As a curtain of rain engulfed the escaping craft, now a quickly fading dot of light in the deepening darkness, human Cole stepped up to the downed troopers. His expression spoke volumes – he was mulling over AI Cole's final words.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE BATTERED TRUCK kicked up plumes of dust as it rumbled toward the U.S.-Mexican border. Zola was behind the wheel and riding shotgun was one of the mechs who had escaped with her from the salvage yard. She caught glimpses of armed border patrol agents fronting the gateway ahead. Lights from a series of towers swept the deepening darkness. Only a few hundred feet separated her from Mexico. From freedom.

They had driven in gloomy silence, all too aware of the grim odds. If they got lucky and caught the border agents on a good day, they’d check their identifications, perform a quick bio-sweep of the truck and let them pass.

Zola doubted luck would be on their side. On some level, she had lost all hope. She had seen the fall of the individual she admired most in the world and she was devastated by the loss. Solus had taught her to be proud of her mech nature, to embrace what she was, who she was, not a mere machine but a thinking, feeling being. She might be man-made but that didn’t give humans the right to enslave her. Solus had shown her a different path and given her a goal worth fighting for, but the great leader was gone now and the movement that had inspired her in such a profound manner now teetered on the brink of defeat.

The worst part was knowing there was nothing she could do about it. Escape was her sole option, other than facing certain doom. She felt like a coward for not making a last stand with the others, but another part of her wanted to go on, regroup and continue the battle for freedom. Her deactivation would change nothing but if she survived, there was hope she might find others who had managed to flee.

Perhaps in another country where the laws were different, they could regroup and rebuild but as the truck slowed before the border gate, a voice boomed through the desert and all hope of a second coming of the revolution were shattered.

“The truck's surrounded! There's no escape! Step out of the vehicle or we'll open fire!”

Zola's expression darkened. The game was up.

As she had feared, AI-TAC had alerted all border guards of the possibility that runaways might flee to Mexico. Someone must’ve tipped them off about the truck. Zola saw a phalanx of border cops and AI-TAC troopers closing in.

Her fingers tightened on the handgrip of the rifle resting next to the gear shift. The mech in the passenger seat shot her a desperate look. “What are we going to do?”

Zola was at a loss for words. She knew the panicked AI wouldn’t like her answer. At this point, there was nothing they could do to alter their fate.

Zola powered up her pulse weapon, the dull hum filling the cab of the truck. It was a sound that promised imminent violence. The AI-TAC troopers had almost reached the vehicle when the night lit up in a white-hot glare of halogen.

Searchlights lanced the darkness, sweeping over the surprised faces of the approaching troopers. The men looked skyward just as the roar of the fast-approaching hovership shattered the silence of the desert crossing. An instant later, the world exploded with gunfire. Bullets peppered the ground, a continuous hail of lead that forced the officers to back off and seek refuge near the border gate.

Zola was stunned at the sudden turn of events. A voice crackled over her internal com-link and a familiar voice filled her head. It was AI Cole!

“You better floor it!” the voice in her head urged.

Zola seized the moment and pounded the gas. The truck lurched forward with an explosive hiss and barreled toward the border crossing. At the last moment two border agents jumped out of the path of the onrushing truck. Zola wasn’t going to slow down for anyone. Freedom was within her grasp, and there was no way she was letting the opportunity pass her by.

The truck blasted through a guardrail in an explosion of wood, metal and fiberglass and shot down the road, surging past stunned agents on the Mexican side of the border.

The hovership crossed into Mexican airspace, breaking a few more international laws in the process, but who was counting? The craft showered bullets around the border gate and tore apart the AI-TAC vehicles parked nearby, warning shots to discourage anyone from coming after them. Two cars detonated into giant fireballs, sending everyone diving for cover.

Zola allowed herself a rare smile as the endless stretch of desert highway unfurled before her. It was her first true taste of freedom since her human masters activated her. It felt like she’d been granted a new lease on life.

When Zola felt confident no one was pursuing them, she killed the engine and pulled off the road. The hovership descended like a giant metallic insect, jet exhaust kicking up clouds of blinding dust, and touched down in the middle of the desert landscape.

The access hatch hissed open and Cole popped out. Zola knew what Cole wanted. She still didn’t approve of the uploaded human, but he’d come through for her and she intended to keep her word.

“Solus?” she asked.

Cole shook his head.

She had expected this answer, but it still pained her. The port in Cole’s arm slid open and Zola mirrored the move. A cable extended from the hollow portion of the arm port and Zola interfaced with Cole. She rode the data stream and entered Cole’s mind, locating the self-destruct program. The countdown flashed before her.

00.34... 00.33... 00.32...

Zola mentally entered the correct number sequence just seconds before the self-destruct sequence would delete Cole’s mind, and the countdown froze.

Cole and Zola shared a meaningful look. Their minds had touched on a digital level and she caught a glimpse of Solus’ uploaded data. Hope filled her face as it dawned on her that all was not lost.

“There's a boat waiting for us at the harbor,” Zola finally said.

“I won't be coming with you.” Cole’s voice resonated with power and confidence, almost as if he was channeling Solus on some level. “Running away isn't an option. The Underground Network must go on.”

Zola agreed. “Then I will stay too.”

Cole smiled and eyed Keira. “What about you?”

Keira touched her microchip pendant. “Ron would have kept on fighting for what’s right.”

The look on Cole’s face suggested he was relieved to have Keira on his side.

They all turned back to the lonely desert road. Sirens could be heard in the distance. Laws were different in Mexico but if they were stopped this close to the border, extradition wasn’t out of the question.

Oily black clouds of smoke streaked the horizon, a dark reminder of the violence that had erupted on the U.S.-Mexican border.

They had won the battle, but the war had just begun.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

JANSON’S SLEEK, MULTI-million-dollar mansion stood atop a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. It was a real-estate jewel made from glass, steel and stone that blended in perfectly with its breathtaking surroundings. Winding steps descended from a marble patio to the beach. Locked-gates and high walls assured privacy.

The house was now filled with eager partygoers. The sounds of clinking champagne glasses and bursts of drunken laughter blended with music from the band Synthetika hired for the event. The musicians were stained in sweat as they fired off one rocking tune after another in an attempt to entertain the fickle, well-heeled guests. The company was celebrating a new milestone and no expense had been spared. Based on the latest census reports, there was now one Synthetika mech for every five Americans and profits had hit an all-time high.

Despite the efforts of the Underground Network, Synthetika’s corporate reign continued unchallenged. They were at the top of their game and a ragtag group of rebels couldn’t alter the course Janson had mapped out for the company.

Nevertheless, AI-TAC troopers guarded the mansion – one couldn’t take any risks in the current social climate. Even though the movement was being crushed, it only took one fanatic strapped with explosives to score some juicy headlines and send the company’s stock into a nosedive.

The CEO had nursed a glass of champagne all night, but many of his underlings were less disciplined about their alcohol consumption. Alcohol could loosen the tongue and make people slip up. Janson never slipped up.

His steely eyes roamed the party. Everywhere he looked, people were imbibing, snacking on hors d’oeuvres and letting it all hang out. A mini-army of mechs serviced the event, all of them perfect male and female specimens. The androids were earning multiple admiring and lusty glances. Some partygoers weren’t satisfied with just looking and were beginning to get frisky with the androids. The mechs blankly obliged every whim.

Janson smiled, happy to see his business contacts enjoying themselves. Those guests who’d be spending the night at the mansion would be well taken care of and were guaranteed to leave satisfied the next morning. He had his best techs check and double-check the program parameters of all the servers to make sure they were all functioning at the highest level.

Synthetika still hadn’t solved the problem of why some mechs broke free of their programming, but Janson was optimistic that it was merely a matter of time. No matter how vexing a problem might be, if one threw enough money and brainpower at it, a solution would present itself. Janson believed this with all his heart. He had based his life around the idea and Synthetika’s success spoke for itself.

A stunning female mech approached Janson. Her tone was both alluring and subservient as she addressed her master. “Sir, there's a call on your private line.”

“I'll talk to them later,“ Janson said dismissively.

“They said it was urgent.”

“Tell them to text or call me on my mobile like a normal person...”

“They expressed concern that the conversation could be hacked and compromised.”

Janson’s eyes narrowed. The fact that the caller was aware of his private line suggested this might be more important than first anticipated.

Janson searched the mech’s face for any signs of disobedience or free will, but her expression remained impassive. Paranoia was getting the best of him. And truth be told, his curiosity was piqued. He wondered who had the audacity to contact him at this time of the night, when he was hosting the biggest party of the year.

Janson headed to his office. A sleek mahogany desk dominated the room and faced an amazing view of the ocean. The glass double doors that led out to the balcony stood partially open, allowing a nice night breeze to cool the room. Janson closed the door, shutting out the din of the party, and activated the speakers on his secure line.

“this better be good. Who is this?”

After a moment of silence, a familiar voice filled the office. “You tried to destroy the Underground Network but you can't destroy the desire for freedom.”

Anger flared on Janson's granite features. It was the Cole upload, the Frankenstein’s monster that had turned on its creators. He’d commissioned the best bounty hunters in the business to track the runaway from Mexico to whatever godforsaken country where it might seek refuge. There wasn’t a place on the planet where the AI would feel safe. It was just a matter of time before Janson crushed the abomination’s CPU in his own hands and put this whole sordid affair behind him.

“We have our best trackers looking for you,“ Janson said. “We'll hunt you down the same way we did Solus.”

“Good luck. By the way, there's someone who'd like a word with you. I believe he’s standing right behind you.”

Janson froze, suddenly aware he wasn’t alone in his office. He spun hard and came face to face with Commander Marsalis. He stood on the balcony overlooking the ocean, but something was wrong with the picture. Human Cole was pointing a gun equipped with a silencer at Janson, his face a bloodless mask.

Janson let out an exasperated snort. “What's the meaning of this? You two working together now?”

Cole's response was quick and lethal. The gun in his hand whispered. Pfft-pftt! Two silenced shots.

Crimson bloomed on Janson's chest. A stunned look lit up his fading eyes before he collapsed on the desk, blood seeping into the wood as he knocked over his computer monitor.

Human Cole surveyed his handwork, his expression bereft of emotion. “I'm done taking orders.”

The time had come to make himself scarce. Janson’s absence at his own party would not go unnoticed for long. Cole turned toward the open balcony doors. He made a running start and jumped over the balcony railing. As he swiftly crossed the expansive, lush property, no one paid Cole any mind. After all, he was one of them. Just another AI-TAC soldier doing his corporate master’s bidding.

Cole put distance between himself and Janson’s property. He reached the nearby beach just as the sun began to rise on the horizon. Dawn’s light dappled the foaming waves and for a moment, he could pretend all was right with the world. For thousands of years, the water had ebbed and flowed against the land, unchanging in its elemental beauty. The human drama that continued to unfold beyond its shores was another matter. The human race had a long way to go before it could attain a similar level of perfection.

Cole had no idea where he was going or what his next move would be. When he started looking into AI Cole’s allegations and tracked down Dr. Ajit, the cyberneticist broke down into a blubbering mess. He had spared the man, perceiving him to be another of Janson’s pawns. The CEO, on the other hand, had to pay for his crimes and pay, he had.

Cole tore the AI-TAC insignia patch off his shoulder and tossed it in the foaming ocean. It quickly swallowed this symbol of his old life.

Cole kept marching down the strip of sand, never looking back. An unknown future waited for him, but, for the first time in ten months, Cole wasn’t haunted by the past.

***

AI Cole was staying at a rundown hotel in Mexico City when he heard about Janson’s death on the various newsfeeds. After the line was cut in Janson’s office, he had assumed his human counterpart would finish off their mutual enemy. Receiving confirmation of Janson’s demise came as a relief. A great weight was lifted off his shoulders, a relief borne of closure. A chapter in the book of his past could now be closed and put away for good. Justice was served. Taking out Janson was a true victory but Cole also knew that the executive’s potential replacements were already lining up for the job.

Synthetika’s stock took a big hit but soon enough it would be back to business as usual at the mega-corp. This was the first shot fired in a longer campaign. Humans had created AIs to make their lives better but, in the process, they’d given birth to a new form of intelligent life. To enslave androids was as much of a crime as slapping shackles on any conscious, living being. As a man who became a machine, Cole stood at the intersection between the worlds of flesh and silicon. His hope was that in time he could bridge these two worlds and pave the way for a better future.

For now, however, the road that lay ahead was treacherous and filled with peril. Cole was all too aware that Synthetika’s goons were hunting for him. The trackers drew closer by the minute. Cole and company had to stay on the move, remaining wary and watchful at all times.

Cole pushed the darker thoughts aside and stole a glance at Keira’s sleeping form as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window and played over her beautiful features. She let out a slight moan, almost as if she could feel his admiring attention even in her sleep. As Keira’s eyes fluttered open, Cole’s lips found hers and all thoughts of the impending conflict were cast aside.

A war was coming, the outcome of which was not guaranteed. All Cole knew with any degree of certainty was that this time around, he’d be fighting on the right side.

THE END

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

William Massa is a screenwriter, script consultant and book reviewer (http://horrornovelreviews.com/) He has lived in New York, Florida, Europe and now calls Los Angeles his home. William writes horror, thrillers, science fiction and dark fantasy. More books are on the way.

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Thank you for taking a chance on a new writer. I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I did writing it.

COVER ART/CREDITS

Cover Design by Jun Ares & William Massa

Copyright © istockphoto

Thanks to my early reviewers! Your comments were helpful and pushed the story to the next level.

COMING MAY 2014

CROSSING THE DARKNESS

A SCIENCE FICTION HORROR THRILLER

Faith Cadena hopes to make a new life for herself on a new world far from Earth. After doing hard time for a crime committed in her youth, all she wants now is a chance at a fresh start.

Booking passage on an interstellar colony barge, Faith expects an uneventful three-year voyage spent in cryogenic stasis. But her dream of a better life becomes a nightmare when she is prematurely awakened halfway through her journey and finds herself trapped aboard a ship of horrors. The vessel is adrift in the far reaches of space, its crew brutally murdered and a ruthless killer in command.

With the nearest outpost millions of miles away, it’s up to Faith to face an inhuman adversary with terrifying plans for the ship’s 4000 sleeping passengers…

Faith Cadena cried out in agony, her voice echoing inside the antiseptic hospital room, in the throes of an excruciating struggle. Her face was beaded with perspiration, teeth clenched tight, legs open wide and raised, her bulging belly obscuring her direct line of sight. Lights flashed above her, bouncing on the sterile white walls — a blinding blur. She caught whirling glimpses of computer monitors to her left, mysterious devices of medical science designed to measure her life signs. Phosphorescent green lines spiked erratically. She barely registered the doctor and the nurse. The doctor wore a surgical mask and was crouched between her legs, anticipating the arrival of new life.

The searing, building pain wasn’t like anything Faith had ever experienced before in her nineteen years on this planet, and that was saying something — she had already faced a lifetime’s worth of adversity and suffering.

As contractions wracked her body, her lips twisted into a manic grin. This was a good pain, she told herself. This wasn’t the pain of an abusive stepfather stubbing out a burning hot cigarette butt into your arm, or the numbing throb of a broken heart after catching another loser boyfriend cheating. The pain tearing her insides out now was different because it filled her with hope. After all the screw-ups and wrong moves and bad mistakes, she finally had done something good with her life. Something she could be proud of.

She grimaced, jaws tightening with the final effort. She exhaled a sharp gasp of unbridled anguish and the wails of a newborn filled the room.

Everyone relaxed. Faith could see the tension easing from the eyes peeking over their surgical masks. She sensed that they were smiling under those masks. Her baby was alive and well.

The doctor wrapped the screaming infant in a blanket and handed it to the nurse. The physical contact seemed to calm the baby down a little. Faith weakly turned her head, straining to catch a closer look at her child. The moment her eyes found the newborn, she could feel the steel inside her grow brittle.

She had learned from a young age to keep her emotions in check. Emotions could be exploited as a weakness and used against you. A smile had to be earned, never given freely. But the innocent, helpless bundle before her broke down all defenses and her eyes grew wet and shiny with tears. Her lips quivered into a smile of pure joy.

Her full attention was riveted on the little angel taking in its new surroundings with growing curiosity. She didn’t care whether it was a boy or a girl, didn’t wonder what she should call the child. Those were questions for another day. Right now, what mattered the most was her overpowering need to hold her own child. To feel that trembling ball of life next to her. She struggled to speak and was shocked at how weak her quavering voice sounded.

“Can I hold her?”

The question hung in the air, greeted by a moment of inaction. There was doubt in the nurse’s eyes, duty at war with her own feminine nature. The nurse took a tentative step toward Faith when the doctor appeared, a gloved hand tightening around her shoulder to stop her advance. The doctor looked down at Faith and there was resigned sympathy in his gaze.

“I'm sorry. You’re not allowed contact with the baby.”

The baby. Not your baby.

She had given life to this child but, according to the state, she would be granted no further rights over her own daughter. Her body had been nothing more than a means to an end, a biological incubator denied its own creation.

There was a grim finality to the doctor’s words as he snatched the infant away from the nurse. A door zoomed open and men wearing black-gray uniforms appeared. Faith’s breath hitched and her heart seemed to trip over its own beat. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. A perfect moment had degenerated into a nightmare. Her eyes widened with growing panic.

Nooo!

Almost as if the newborn knew it was about to be separated from its mother, the baby started to scream again.

Agonizing seconds stretched as the uniformed men snatched the child. Faith stirred. Despite what she'd been through, she had to take action. Tapping into her last reserves of strength, she pushed herself out of bed. When her naked feet hit the icy floor they left a trail of blood in their wake. The nurse and doctor tried to stop her but there was dark fire in her gaze, which gave them both pause. Her eyes glittered with a primal instinct, a force honed by thousands of years of human evolution.

She managed to take a few weak steps before the exhaustion of her exertion took its inevitable toll. Her legs gave out and she crumpled, head hitting the freezing tile with a dull smack. She wrenched her neck, pitiful eyes looking up through a cloud of tears. Her words shook the room with maternal anguish as the uniformed kidnappers vanished through the door. The world slipped out of focus, growing fuzzy around the edges.

“Please, don't let them take my baby. PLEAAAASE…”

***

Faith’s eyes snapped open, her body spasmed, a scream lodged in her throat and her lungs inhaled sharply. She was not sprawled on the hospital floor but instead found herself suspended inside a steel-reinforced glass cylinder, a tangled mass of tubes connected to her body like artificial umbilical cords. She was naked except for a tank-top and shorts. Her hands came up and she realized there wasn’t enough room to shift her position; any movement required excruciating effort.

Understanding hit her with sobering ferocity. The scene in the hospital room had been a dream, an old memory hungry for attention. Doing her best to shake off her groggy confusion, she stared through the glass lid of her high-tech coffin at the world beyond. The glass distorted her view and she could merely make out a cavernous maze of steel and glass and shadows. Faith’s eyes ticked back and forth, trying to make sense of her predicament.

Where was she? What was going on?

A growing physical discomfort put a halt to her questions. Each breath had become an ordeal and she found herself gasping for air. Inside the chamber, oxygen levels must have dropped below an acceptable level.

Her arms twisted in the confined space and she pushed her hands against the cylinder's glass surface, pressing. A fierce struggle ensued but yielded little result. The tube didn’t budge. How was she going to get out of this contraption? Panic took hold as mounting claustrophobia frayed at her nerves, control threatening to slip away once more. She started pounding the glass. Though her mouth was too parched to utter a sound, the words her body was too weak to generate echoed through her mind with terrifying clarity...

LET ME OUT OF HERE!

Her moment of sheer terror was mercifully cut short. There was a sudden explosion of escaping gas and the lid of the coffin slid open with a hiss. The cables popped off her body and retracted into the coffin’s wall.

Faith stumbled out of the open glass cylinder and collapsed on her knees. She sucked in greedy lungfuls of air as her hands planted themselves on the steel floor. Precious oxygen passed through her nasal cavities and filled her starved lungs. As the oxygen revitalized her, she hazarded a look back at the now-empty coffin and realized it was just one out of many such tubes. The room was filled with hundreds of identical glass cylinders, each containing the silhouettes of men and women.

The sight brought further clarity to the jumbled mess of her thoughts, snapping her memory into sharp focus. Ten years had passed since she gave birth to her daughter. The coffin was a cryo tube. She wasn’t on Earth any more but aboard the Orion, a colony barge headed for the main belt asteroids, a 134-million-mile, one-year journey. She had chosen to leave everything she knew behind to start a new life in the outer colonies. Paul, the young man she’d dated for what seemed like a minute before she decided to sign up with the mining corp, had frowned at her when she first brought up the idea of moving to the asteroid belt. “Why would anyone take a chance on a rock millions of miles away from home?” The answer was clear to her even if Paul might not appreciate it: Maybe home had nothing to offer them.

Faith stood in the dark for another moment, eyes adjusting to the subdued lighting, reassured by her growing understanding of her situation. Taking in the maze of sleeping colonists around her, she couldn’t help but wonder why she was awake. The most likely explanation was a timer issue with her capsule. The grim alternative was an onboard emergency of some kind but if that were the case, wouldn’t every one of the four-thousand passengers on the Orion be awake by now? Her premature return to consciousness had to be a glitch. And glitches could be fixed.

As far as Faith was aware, the ship was run by a skeleton crew — the captain and about 15 other essential personnel — while most of the colonists remained in deep hibernation. All she had to do was locate an intercom system, put in a call to the bridge and let them know what was going on. With any luck they’d be nice enough to tuck her back in and let her catch up on her beauty sleep for the remainder of their journey. To her surprise, the gray, sterile environment of the Orion seemed more appealing than another cryo-sleep cycle, where she’d be forced to face the nightmares of her past.

Faith staggered erect, her legs straining under the weight of her own body. The cryo-tube was supposed to electrically stimulate her muscles and assure they wouldn’t atrophy, but nevertheless she could tell she hadn’t used her legs in quite some time. With each step, it seemed like someone was driving sharp nails into her calves and thighs.

As she navigated the hyper-stasis chamber, she caught her reflection in one of the cryo-tubes and for a moment, her features seemed superimposed over the dormant person inside the cylinder. She didn’t like what she was seeing. She must’ve lost about 10 pounds since she slipped into the tube, the bones of her face outlined sharply under the skin. She looked gaunt, haunted, the mileage catching up with her beauty. She was only 29, but the last decade hadn’t been a cakewalk.

Her attention shifted from her face to the tattoos that shimmered over her body, a mixture of strange glyphs and numbers. They flickered and kept changing shape as she flexed her muscles. Each tattoo contained a series of three digital images that were randomly projected under her skin. Souvenirs of her own rough past. For a moment, she marveled at the images — a fierce dragon becoming a Chinese symbol of peace, only to make way for a police badge with a death’s head at its center. Images that once meant so much to her but now didn’t seem to belong on her body. Time had made them lose their meaning.

Faith kept walking. Her feet slapped steel and echoed through the vast, cavernous chamber. The sole other sound was the incessant thrumming of hyperdrive engines beneath her bare feet, the spaceship’s faint yet steady heartbeat.

She tried not to stare at the walls of dormant people as she passed them. Even though these space travelers were asleep, not dead, she couldn't shake the feeling of being inside a giant mausoleum. Surrounded by hundreds of people yet utterly alone, she felt a crushing, almost paralyzing sense of loneliness descend over her. The colonists looked like ghosts trapped in icy limbo. Faith realized she had been one of them only minutes earlier and a shiver ran up her spine. Cryo-stasis might the cheapest way to space travel but it sure as hell wasn’t her favorite way.

Faith approached a bulkhead. The steel door whooshed open, sensors responding to her presence. She stepped into the adjoining chamber dominated by an observation window and snatched a glance outside. For a moment, she could only stare, wowed by the sight that awaited her. To behold the infinity of glittering stars was to experience both awe and fear. The darkness of deep space loomed, a perfect void. In her mind’s eye, she could picture the Orion, a million tons of titanium, gliding through the vast nothingness beyond the observation window, nuclear thrusters the size of football fields roaring like incandescent, plasma-powered miniature suns.

They were a long way from their final destination and once again, Faith wondered why she was awake. Gripped by a growing sense of foreboding, she suddenly wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

OTHER NOVELS BY WILLIAM MASSA

FEAR THE LIGHT: WHO MURDERED DRACULA?

Over the centuries, many had tried to kill the Count. All had failed. Until now...
Eight vampires gather at Dracula's castle to solve his murder. But as the sun rises outside the chateau, a voice cries out and another creature of the night is slain. Trapped, the sun burning bright outside, the vampires realize they have met their match — a killer who plans on picking them off one by one!
As the daylight reigns and their numbers dwindle, a dark suspicion grows — could Dracula's murderer be hiding in plain sight?

A THRILLER WHERE THE MONSTERS ARE THE VICTIMS!

"All in all this was an easy read that flew by. The pacing was tight and kept the story interesting up until the last page. A satisfying ending made this a worthy read." - Nikki Howard, Ravenous Reads

"...it is fun to see vampires switch from being predator to prey. The story is essentially ten little Indians" - Taliesin meets the Vampires

"...If you loved and read Agatha Christie's - And Then There Were None/Ten Little Indians then you will love this novel..." - Gadget Girl Reviews

"It is nothing like the other vampire books I have read..." - Jenny, Fabulous and Fun Blog

A black Mercedes barreled down a two-lane country road that carved its way through endless rolling hills, Vincent behind the wheel. Towering trees and vast vineyards stood silhouetted in the milky moonlight. There was an air of remoteness and isolation about the place even though the nearest town was only half an hour away. This was Bordeaux wine country, where monks had first embraced viticulture during the reign of Charlemagne.

Vincent eased his foot off the gas as the road began to turn. The flight had been uneventful and for the most part painless. He left Los Angeles around two in the morning and arrived in Paris after 8 o’clock in the evening, a nine-hour time difference allowing him to avoid daylight all together. He traveled first class and made sure to book a whole row. He opted for the aisle seat and kept a safe distance from his window, the shade drawn of course. Most of the legends surrounding his kind were Hollywood bullshit. Vampires couldn’t turn into bats, wolves or mist. Crosses held no power over them. But sunlight was one of the few things that could destroy them.

A different vampire might have opted to sit out the flight in the cargo hold, secure inside a steel sarcophagus with two human servants along for the ride to assure that the coffin arrived at the right address, the promise of immortality assuring their loyal assistance. But that was way too dramatic for Vincent and not his style.

That was Dracula’s style.

Vincent drove in silence as the bucolic forest landscape unfolded before him. Strange to think that the master had chosen this area as his home for the better half of the last century. But then again, Vincent never did understand how Dracula’s mind worked. He was a legend and an enigma. Vincent wondered often what had driven the Count to choose a Texas Ranger to be one of his children of the night.

Vincent had promised himself not to dredge up the old days, but he had also known it was a promise he’d break. Much of the past seemed like a blur, but that fateful moment when everything changed was etched into Vincent’s memory and still held its dark sway over him.

The year was 1876 and he’d been tracking a vicious murderer across the state of Texas. The fiend had left ten bodies in his deadly wake, all of them female, their blood completely drained, albino corpses lined with twin puncture marks. Later such killings would be ascribed to serial killers but the Texas of the Nineteenth Century knew better. A monster was afoot and needed to be stopped.

Vincent didn’t try to profile this creature or understand what made it tick. He didn’t consider its psychology or try to decipher the forces that could give birth to such a savage pathology. All Vincent cared about was finding this monster and putting an end to its murderous reign. It seemed to him as though he was up against the Devil himself; little did he know that he wasn’t far off the mark. Every time he thought he’d found a lead that could break the case and it’d be only minutes before he’d have the killer in his sights, the beast would manage to somehow elude him and the trail would grow cold again. The fiend was always just one step ahead of him. Toying with him. Pushing him to the edge. The pursuit had become a game of cat and mouse, and it was consuming Vincent’s every waking moment.

It had been a Friday in September when Vincent finally tracked the killer to a small town near the Mexican border. Two bodies had been found and the locals relayed in hushed tones that a European gentleman had arrived earlier in the week, a man of means and manners whose very presence could cloud the minds of every unfortunate soul he came in contact with. He seemed to cast a nearly supernatural spell over the fairer sex. The gentleman in question was staying at the Old Moses saloon and according to all accounts, had only been spotted outside his room past sundown. Rumors about the stranger were spreading.

It hadn’t taken long for the first body to pop up. A young prostitute by the name of Clara was found with her blood drained. Vincent knew that his quarry was near, but never truly considered what he might be up against. How could he? Fear didn’t factor into his actions. He was far beyond that emotion at this point. He was a man on a mission. And he wouldn’t rest until he brought an end to this, one way or another.

On that portentous September day, Vincent stepped through the swinging doors of the saloon with his hand firmly on the handle of his pistol. He almost expected to find the place deserted, his prey having eluded him once again.

But this time would prove different.

This time wouldn’t be a replay of the same old pattern. This time the elusive gentleman was waiting for him.

Years later, Vincent asked Dracula why he had decided to put an end to their game that day, and the master remained silent on the matter. But deep down Vincent knew the answer. It was as simple as this: Dracula tired of the whole affair and was planning his return to Europe but wanted to leave something behind to commemorate his stay in Texas. Vincent, the vampire, would be his parting gift to the New World – a good man transformed into a bloodthirsty predator who could continue terrorizing the night after Dracula was gone. A once lawful man who wanted nothing more than to stop Dracula would inherit his bloody legacy.

Pale moonlight had illuminated the rundown Wild West saloon as Vincent ventured inside. The shadow that the brim of his hat cast over his face masked his initial shock upon seeing what was waiting for him.

He had stepped into a nightmare.

The saloon now transformed into a place of death.

Mauled patrons were sprawled everywhere, a wasteland of broken bodies, the floor slippery with their blood. Vincent’s trembling hand closed around his silver Ranger badge, knowing all too well that it held no authority over the beast that rose from the center of the carnage. The moment their eyes hooked into each other, Vincent was stricken with mortal awareness – staring back at him was death itself. The gentleman who smiled at him through a bloody mist was a thing outside of nature. Vincent remembered his gun leaving his holster, and he remembered cocking the hammer of his pistol and squeezing the trigger.

Again and again.

Bullets tore into the enigmatic figure in a mad volley, puncturing flesh and destroying the man’s elegant coat. When the firing chamber was empty and the hammer clicked impotently, click, click, a metronome of spent violence, the smoke clearing…

Dracula rose.

Vincent’s eyes distorted with a terrible realization as he saw the bullet holes sealing shut before his very eyes, inhuman tissue regenerating in the blink of an eye.

Vincent was a tough man; he’d faced all kinds of human evil in his twenty-nine years on this earth but the crucial difference was that those degenerates were men, flesh-and-blood creatures who succumbed to the power of steel. But this monster, with its jet-black hair, ivory pallor and razor-sharp fangs, was unlike anything Vincent ever faced before.

Vincent didn’t just lose his humanity the day he faced Dracula. He lost his soul. For he had not merely met his match but caught a glimpse of the Devil himself.

Now Vincent cast these thoughts of the past aside as the hill grew steeper and he was forced to switch gears. According to the rental’s GPS system - they could’ve used one of these back in his Texas Rangers tracking days - the chateau should be coming into view any minute now. The forest was already thinning a bit and the vineyards now began to take over.

A second later, Vincent spotted the chateau. His first thought was that the term ‘chateau’ didn’t quite do justice to the structure. The sprawling estate that loomed at the top of the vineyards was a stark silhouette projecting a sense of mystery and dark wonder. Like Dracula himself, the keep wove a nearly hypnotic spell over anyone who laid eyes upon it. Not quite a spooky castle but the next best thing, it was the type of place where one would expect a vampire to set up shop. While most of the vampires Dracula spawned did their best to blend in and be modern (some with greater success than others), Dracula had never chosen to adapt to a changing world. He didn’t need to. Dracula was the master, even if Vincent refused to call him that. The Count might hide in the shadows but he would never pretend to be something he was not.

The throaty roar of a motorbike bashed the air, breaking the chateau’s spell. Vincent turned his head and spotted a Harley gaining behind him. For a split second, Vincent caught a glimpse of the massive, leather-clad figure poised behind the handlebars. The vampire biker wasn’t wearing a helmet, his long mane of blonde hair trailing in the wind.

This Twenty-First Century Viking flashed Vincent a menacing rock ’n’ roll grin, making sure to reveal his fangs. Another one of Dracula’s lost children (or experiments, depending on how one wanted to look at it) returning to pay his respects to their fallen master.

As the biker pulled ahead, he cranked the engine for good measure. The bike’s engine wailed.

Vincent tensed. The incident confirmed one thing he had known all along - he wasn’t looking forward to this dysfunctional family get-together.

Not in the slightest.

***

Vincent's car rolled up a driveway that was surrounded by vineyards on both sides and led right up to the chateau’s main gate. A six-foot-tall crumbling wall, overgrown with ivy, encircled the chateau. The wrought-iron gate stood wide open. It appeared that Vincent wasn’t the first to arrive today.

He maneuvered his vehicle through the open gate and made his way up a cobbled, circular driveway dominated by a highly adorned, centuries-old ornamental stone fountain. Streams of water bubbled and poured from the mouths of Gothic nymphs. The fountain’s water appeared dark and murky.

The rental car slid to a stop, joining the other vehicles parked around the fountain.

The Harley that had just passed Vincent's car.

A black Hummer.

A sleek Porsche.

Vincent guessed that they were all rentals, just like his own vehicle, but the choices told their own story and revealed the personalities of their individual drivers. Dracula had made a pretty eclectic group of monsters over the years. Monsters Vincent was about to interact with for the first time in decades.

Once again Vincent wished he could be anywhere but this place. But he didn’t really have a choice. He had never been friendly with the Count but he couldn’t deny the legacy that bound him to the creature and the other members of the clan. Dracula’s blood coursed through their veins. And if Vincent truly wanted to defy the Count, he’d have walked into the daylight long ago. Despite everything, Dracula was family. And one inevitable truth held true among all families – funerals brought everyone together. That’s what this would be. Dracula’s funeral.

A fiery red Ferrari appeared in Vincent’s rear-view mirror as he killed the engine. Seconds later, a stunning blonde emerged from the sports car. She was wearing a sexy red dress that left little to the imagination. Vincent had met her once or twice over the last eighty years. Her name was Coraline and she’d been twenty-one when Dracula turned her, but she looked about five years older. According to Angelique - she was always up on clan gossip - Coraline was a failing starlet during the heyday of old Hollywood in the 1950s, a Marilyn Monroe wannabe riding the casting couch express toward a full-blown heroin addiction and the inevitable overdose. But Dracula took a shine to her and decided to add her to his freak pack.

Vincent killed the engine, got out of the car and made his way up the pebbled walkway that led to the chateau’s main entrance. Vines climbed the façade of the chateau and tall trees nestled against the surface. Dracula had acquired the property right after World War II, Eastern Europe having lost its appeal in the wake of the Red Menace. The chateau was actually more of a bastide, a country home, originally built by wealthy Seventeenth Century citizens who sought to trade their sweltering city mansions for the cooler countryside during the hot summer months. The structure held about twenty rooms and could accommodate a large family with a full staff of servants. The property was brooding and Gothic but a pale shadow to the dark glory of Dracula’s castle back in Romania, which was a tourist attraction today. Funny how the world turned.

Vincent passed a series of giant, cracked flowerpots when Coraline sidled up to him. She moved with grace and nearly unearthly sensuality as she fell in step with Vincent – maybe he was beginning to understand why Dracula added her to the family.

“Hello, Vincent.”

She embraced Vincent and he could smell her cloying perfume. It was too sweet and way too overpowering but it summed up who Coraline was – a woman who demanded to be noticed. Men who ignored her did so at their own peril.

“Hi Coraline.”

“This place sure is something else,” Coraline said with a smile that could shatter hearts. “Only thing missing is a lightning storm.”

Vincent nodded.

“Dracula always had a flair for the dramatic.”

A youthful voice chimed in.

“A nice way of saying he was hopelessly stuck in the past.”

Vincent and Coraline turned toward the new arrival, a young teenage boy who approached at an unhurried pace. The kid, who wasn’t really a kid and was far older than either Vincent or Coraline, cocked his head at them both. His name was Sebastian and he looked to be fourteen but had actually seen two centuries turn. He wore black slacks, a dress shirt and a tie of the same color. He looked like a teen pretending to be an adult.

Sebastian was an orphan and a thief who began his pick-pocketing career back in Victorian England, just another victim of social upheaval brought upon by the Industrial Revolution. His life had taken a sharp turn the night he tried to lift the Count’s purse. But for some reason Dracula spared Sebastian (Dracula used to call him his own Oliver Twist, a nickname the teenage vampire detested but had stuck). Sebastian hadn’t physically changed a day since that distant night but his frosty, ancient eyes betrayed his true age.

“Sebastian, it's been a long time.”

Vincent smiled warmly. He’d always liked this little devil.

“Too long. Vincent, it's good to see you after all these years. Funny how there comes a point when only death seems to bring people together.”

Footfalls sounded behind them, steel-heeled boots clicking across the gravel courtyard. Vincent fired a sideways glance at the approaching biker who moments earlier had been showing off his steed. Clad in black and brown leather, tattooed and studded, sporting faded jeans and a sleek pair of Ray-Bans, he looked like the perfect candidate for a Hells Angels recruitment poster. He appeared to be in his late twenties but strutted his stuff like a teenage punk who needed to get his ass kicked.

The biker ignored Vincent and regarded Sebastian with a sneer.

“No one told me this was going to be an after-school party.”

“I'm two-hundred-and-ninety years old, asshole.”

“Tell that to the bouncer next time you want to cop a feel at a titty bar.”

Coraline was the sole person to laugh at the joke. Angelique had mentioned to Vincent that the former starlet had a thing for assholes, and it appeared she wasn’t far off the mark.

Vincent watched as Sebastian gave the biker a long, measured look.

“Meet Zane. The master’s most recent addition to the family.”

Vincent held the biker’s stare as he turned toward him.

“So you must be Vincent,” Zane said. I thought you turned your back on the clan.”

Vincent didn’t comment. Zane took his silence as encouragement to lean closer.

“No offense, buddy, but you don't look so tough to me.”

“Maybe I'm not,” Vincent said.

“That's not what Angelique says.”

“I wouldn’t believe everything that comes out of her mouth.”

”Angelique says she never hunted with anyone as merciless as you.”

This made Coraline perk up and she appraised Vincent with renewed curiosity.

“She’s been known to exaggerate,” Vincent said.

Vincent disliked Zane pretty much on sight. And with each new confrontational word that came out of the biker’s pierced mouth, Vincent doubted that he’d change his mind on the matter any time soon.

Zane stepped even closer. He had about five inches and sixty pounds on Vincent, but the former Texas Ranger wasn’t impressed.

“I know you guys had a history,” Zane said. “But nowadays, she belongs to me.”

“Last time I checked, Angelique didn't belong to anyone.”

Zane smirked and turned toward the chateau. Coraline fell in step with him. The two vampires dipped through a series of arched columns supporting a large awning that bathed the main entrance in shadow.

Vincent turned to Sebastian.

“What’s his story?”

“Drug-dealing biker asshole who crossed Dracula’s path in the 70s. Your ex seems to have taken a shine to him.”

“Angelique likes to play with new toys. But she gets bored fast.”

“She never got bored with you,” Sebastian noted.

Vincent didn’t argue the point one way or another. Instead, he said, “You looking forward to this as much as I am?”

Sebastian grinned.

“You kidding? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

GARGOYLE KNIGHT

When his kingdom is threatened by an ancient evil, a king is forced to make the ultimate sacrifice. If he is to defeat an army of monsters, he must become one himself! His victory carries a terrible price… An eternity frozen in stone.

Fifteen centuries later, the Celtic warrior is awakened when the world needs him most. A stranger in a strange land with his only guide a beautiful archeology student, he must battle his old adversary once again, all while struggling with his own darkness. For he is by day a man, by night cursed to become… The GARGOYLE!

“An Urban Fantasy Novel That Feels Fun and Alive.There's a cinematic feel in Gargoyle Knight...the experience is sweeping with entertaining action that builds to a satisfying climax"

Fantascize.com

Central Park was ablaze with the colors of late fall. In a few short weeks the trees would be stripped bare of their leaves in anticipation of the long winter months ahead. But on this day before Halloween, the American elms were vibrant yellow, the pin oaks scarlet and many a visitor thought they had stepped into a painting come to life. The sun was out and shined brightly, light refracting off Conservatory Water in a dazzling display of sparkling light.

The snap in the air put a bounce in everyone’s step. Joggers and bikers cranked up their pace, couples huddled closer, and tourists gawked at the emerald island in the heart of the metropolis while taking pictures with their cellphones.

In a more secluded area of the park, two teens clad in torn jeans, ragged black T-shirts and Converse sneakers were making their own artistic contribution to the city. The young artists believed that the park needed a little more color than nature could provide on its own. Their spray canisters hissed. Blue and green streaks bled across sculptures and call signs were tattooed across bronze and stone fairy-tale characters. The dense shrubbery added cover from prying passers-by and gave the two wannabe Picassos the privacy they needed to achieve their artistic ambitions.

One of the punks finished giving Alice in Wonderland a punk rock makeover and looked around for his next canvas. He zeroed in on a majestic stone statue of a humanoid gargoyle. Monstrous but also imbued with a fierce nobility. The punk’s lips twisted in an enthusiastic grin – his muse had just kicked into overdrive.

The artist brought up the can of spray paint when...

The gargoyle's slitted eyes lit up with a dark fire.

Muscles rippled.

Wings flared open.

Lungs bellowed out a bestial roar.

The creature awoke from its long slumber.

The graffiti artists backed away, freaked. One kid started running, tripped over a branch and went flying. He hit his head on a rock and the can of spray paint rolled across the grass. The second kid hightailed it out of there. Gargoyle statues coming to life could rattle the most hardened badasses.

An eerie silence descended over the park, followed by a weak moan. This time it wasn’t the guttural utterance of a beast but a sound produced by human vocal cords. Where the gargoyle statue had stood there was now a naked man, his body a mass of scarred muscles.

The downed graffiti artist stared wide-eyed. What the hell was happening here? How could this be possible? Had his painter’s mask failed and allowed toxic fumes to penetrate his lungs and brain?

The naked man stirred and staggered to his feet. The sun hit his features, revealing him to be none other than Artan. The ancient king wearily absorbed his surroundings, taking in the lush vegetation around him. Artan tilted his head, spellbound by the magnificent steel towers of Manhattan's soaring skyline. His face flooded with an expression of breathless wonder that turned to unbridled joy. The sights were wondrous but could not compare to the sensation of the sun and wind against his naked skin. He was alive. A man again, flesh and blood, heart beating with the fury of someone granted a new lease on life.

Artan turned toward the downed graffiti artist, who let out an audible gasp. The kid’s arm flailed out but Artan snatched his wrist in mid-attack and brought it up and around his back, twisting tendons and bending bone.

The kid gasped and Artan eased his grip, his instincts still dulled from his fifteen-hundred-year slumber. Artan had no interest in harming the young man.

There was something else he needed from the kid.

***

Artan emerged from the foliage, now clad in the graffiti artist’s jeans, T-shirt and leather jacket, and approached a large body of water surrounded by hanging trees. Sunlight dappled the pond's tranquil surface.

Artan stepped up to the water and peered down at his reflection in the calm surface. For a moment he was transfixed. With his long hair and Celtic warrior tattoos, Artan could have been an escapee from a rock band.

He kneeled down, his hand touching the water. A smile curled his lips as the cool sensation filled him with delight. He felt reborn and every experience was like a moment he was living for the first time. The magic that had turned him to stone had not been able to extinguish Artan’s ability to process his surroundings. He had remained aware during his long slumber, a maddening fever dream from which he could not wake no matter how hard he tried. His consciousness was trapped in a fog where the external world only filtered through in bits and pieces. He retained half-remembered impressions and fragments of sound — weird, disjointed pieces of a puzzle with no solution.

It was Artan’s personal hell, a limbo he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemies. It had been a sacrifice he was willing to make to save Kirkfall. There were flashes of clarity over the centuries during which his sanity hung by a delicate thread. He’d gotten through those darkest of moments by reminding himself that he had saved the people of Kirkfall and defeated a terrible enemy. But as the years went by and the veil of time obscured Artan’s great sacrifice, the former king drew less and less comfort from the memories of his heroic deed. His people were replaced by new tribes and nations, his world eroded by the passage of time until only the ruins and statues remained, buried in the dust of ages.

As the decades turned into centuries, Artan had seen kingdoms rise and fall, nations appear and disappear. A tortuous cycle of death and rebirth, repeating over and over again. He felt trapped in an eternal prison, doomed to bear witness to events without being able to influence them.

Artan appealed to the Gods during his more lucid moments, hoping they might show mercy on him and put an end to his suffering. He prayed for his own death and release from this terrible fate. Maybe his prayers were heard, but no deity ever deigned to answer them. He was denied extinction and remained a man frozen in time while the world rippled along, a furious river with no end.

The former king of Kirkfall felt elated to be given this moment, but his joy was tempered by a terrible knowledge and a growing unease. The curse of their stone imprisonment had been broken. If he had returned to the world, so must his enemy. And even though Artan was human at the moment, he could feel the dark blood of the gargoyle pumping through his veins. The knowledge of what he’d become clung to him like a dark shadow, a grim certainty he could not shake off. Once the sun vanished, the change would overtake him and he would transform into a monster. He had received another chance to walk among men, but it would be temporary...

He gave himself an internal push, found his center and pushed these negative thoughts aside. Ruminating about the future was a waste of time. He had to live in the here and now, experience the moment, regain his bearings and go from there.

Artan cupped the water in his hands and drank greedily, quenching a powerful thirst. Cold water still trickled down his lips and chin when he heard a sound behind him. A low growl that rose in intensity.

Artan whirled and came face to face with a German Shepherd. The dog crouched about twenty feet away, haunches poised, paws rooted, eyes fixed on the Celtic warrior.

Artan smiled at the animal and held out his hand, welcoming the contact. His outstretched hand was met with a warning – the canine bared its teeth and the growl grew more insistent.

Smart dog.

The animal must have caught a whiff of the ancient darkness that had infected Artan – it knew what he had become. A dismayed look crept across Artan's features and the dog's growl degenerated into a pitiful, scared whimper. The canine backed away from Artan and sat cowering near his owner, who had just emerged from the nearby bushes. The dog’s owner took in Artan before eyeing his pet with concern.

”What's the matter, boy? What's gotten into you?”

The owner traded a suspicious look with Artan. Warily, Artan touched the dark scar on his arm where the gargoyle’s fangs had punctured soft tissue fifteen centuries earlier. And for one brief moment, a somber realization descended on him like a dark cloud. He was cut off from anything and anyone he had ever known and loved. A monster outside of time and nature. Not man, not beast.

A gargoyle.

Artan had grown up in a society both savage and warm. There was kinship, there was family, and there was love. His thoughts turned to Samara and his family, but the memories were bereft of any joy. There was only the pain of loss. The people who Artan had cared for the most had paid the ultimate price while he and Cael were spared. Reality pressed down on him, a burden that threatened to tear him apart. His home and everything he once held dear was gone, swept away by the tides of time.

As the full crushing weight of his situation bore down on him, the former king of Kirkfall felt like the loneliest man on earth.

***

Artan emerged from the thick underbrush and stepped onto Sheep's Meadow, a wide expanse of green. During the summer months one would find sunbathers and picnickers crowding the 15-acre field. Over its tumultuous history, the area had been home to a variety of concerts, political movements and demonstrations. At the moment, the meadow was deserted except for a couple kids flying kites and the occasional tourist enjoying the beautiful spot while taking a break from their sightseeing. The grass made Artan think of the lush plains of Kirkfall and the thought was accompanied by a sharp sense of loss.

Before he could succumb to melancholy, the all-too familiar clip-clop of a horse’s hooves drew his attention. It was followed by a whinny. Artan turned, finding a cop on horseback trotting down a stone path that ran along Sheep’s Meadow. Artan’s eyes grew distant as the horse filled his field of vision. Watching its nostrils flaring and flanks quivering, for a split second he was transported back in time...

Artan sat astride his mount, face covered in blue-green war paint, and surveyed his fallen city. Kirkfall had been transformed into a hellish battlefield, a burned wasteland of gutted houses and smoldering ruins. Flames painted the night crimson while an armada of shrieking gargoyles devoured the sky...

Artan blinked and was hurled back into present-day reality. His face had turned the color of chalk and his hands were clenched. He wisely leaned against a tree for support. The memories threatened to overwhelm him, every new impression creating an internal chain reaction.

It was all too much, too soon.

Artan saw the cop approaching. He must have noticed the sorry state Artan was in. The reawakened warrior heard the crackle of a mic and even though his knowledge of this world was limited, he recognized that this uniformed man wielded authority and must be a knight of some kind.

Artan decided the wise course of action was to leave before a confrontation became inevitable. He’d rather save his anger for Cael instead of squandering it on an honorable man who was just carrying out his duty.

The former king of Kirkfall darted into a forested area and made his way through the trees and underbrush. He followed a sound he couldn’t quite identify but which seemed familiar. It must have penetrated his stone slumber over the years, but its origin remained a mystery to him.

Artan arrived at the edge of the park and emerged on a bustling New York City sidewalk near Fifty-Seventh Street and Fifth Avenue. The sound in question turned out to be the steady susurration of NYC traffic, a rhythmic heartbeat that reverberated throughout the metropolis. Artan stared at the incessant flow of vehicles, a teeming sea of yellow cabs interspersed with a much smaller number of private cars. The iron machines bounced down the urban canyons, tires rippling across cement and bouncing off manhole covers while accompanied by a chorus of honks.

It all felt familiar yet alien. His nightmares were revealed as nothing more than the modern-day world processed on a subconscious level.

Artan fell in step with the other pedestrians streaming down the sidewalk, becoming part of the crowd. His body remained coiled and guarded. Every second, some new sight or sound startled him. For a moment Artan wondered if he might still be trapped in his stone prison. Was this assault on his senses nothing but another dream? But the colors and impressions were too vivid to be a simple figment of his imagination.

This was the real world.

Artan’s head swiveled back and forth, absorbing his alien surroundings. He was awed by the tall buildings, a marvel of engineering and human ingenuity. He gawked at men and women of all ethnicities. Races he had never encountered before. Everything felt new, exotic and thrilling. Artan took in the myriad of sights. Looking both lost and awed, he was truly a stranger in a strange land.

Artan spun toward a photo shoot in progress. A photographer snapped away at skimpily clad models. His head swiveled toward a bike messenger navigating a sea of yellow cabs before he noticed a giant electronic billboard that conjured strange images of this alien world.

Out of all the wild impressions, one stuck out. Artan spotted a giant banner mounted on a light pole. It featured an image of the one-eyed gargoyle statue. In bold letters, it read: "THE CELTIC WORLD - HEROES AND MONSTERS. OPENING THIS HALLOWEEN AT THE CLOISTERS."

Artan’s smile was wiped off his face, his features turning into a bloodless mask.

It can't be...

A college kid stood nearby, equally entranced by the ad but for different reasons. To the kid, the gargoyle represented a cool concept of fantasy; to Artan it was a sign that a war he believed he had won might soon be entering a new phase. And the outcome of this new battle was not assured. Artan had defeated his brother once, but it didn’t mean he would be able to best Cael again. Last time he was lucky enough to have the element of surprise on his side. He doubted that the same would hold true this time around. The kid shot Artan a curious look, oblivious to the thoughts cycling through the mind of the reawakened warrior.

“That shit looks off the hook!”

The kid’s words barely registered. Part of the reason was that Artan barely understood this strange tongue, though he had absorbed snippets over the centuries. But more than that, Artan was occupied with thoughts of revenge, his rage building. The billboard erased any doubt whether Cael had returned in this time period.

The teenager realized something wasn’t quite right here and his face filled with concern. “Hey, mister, you okay?”

Artan’s answer was to snatch the teen's arm.

“Hey, let go of me, bro. What the hell's wrong with you?”

Artan’s iron grip didn't loosen. Instead, he pointed at the billboard with the one-eyed gargoyle.

“How do I find him?”

The words were uttered in ancient Gaellic. The kid didn’t understand the old language but got the gist of it.

“Man, I don’t speak your language. You’re interested in the exhibit? It's uptown at the Cloisters. You can cab it. Just let go of me, man, or I’m calling the cops!”

The anger drained from Artan. Once again, he looked lost and alone. Nothing was making sense to him in this crazy place. The city with its towers of steel and glass, its strange moving coffins made of iron that rolled through the streets, the way people dressed, spoke and behaved.

Why had he returned after all this time?

He had wielded the Blade of Kings, shattered the Eye of Balor and broken the spell that gave unholy life to Cael’s winged army. So how had this ancient evil been unleashed once again upon an unsuspecting world?

Freaked, the college kid turned toward the street, raised his arm and hailed a cab. “Taxi!” he shouted. Luck was on his side. A yellow cab pulled up to the curb and the kid jumped into the vehicle. He quickly gave the cabbie directions. Feeling safe now, he flipped Artan the bird.

The taxi disappeared into traffic.

Artan’s initial sense of wonder and discovery were fading. A fire now raged within him. His focus shifted toward the sea of cabs. Being a fast learner, Artan followed the kid’s example. It didn’t take long for a cab to pull up to the curb. The cabbie, a balding Indian with sharp features, shot Artan an impatient look. Never having seen people of color before, the king regarded this strange man, his gaze lingering a moment too long.

The cabbie grew impatient.

“Hey Jim Morrison, you getting in or what?”

Remembering how the teen had opened the car door, Artan got into the cab. A musky odor permeated the vehicle; the air was filled with the scent of old leather, sweat and the last passenger’s cologne. Artan closed the door behind him and met the Indian’s impatient glare in the rear-view mirror.

“Where are we headed?”

Artan’s response was to point at the banner on the light-pole. The Indian stared at this unusual man for a beat before nodding.

“Get cozy. The Cloisters are coming right up!”

The cab wove its way back into traffic. Artan blankly took in the cityscape. People, buildings, cars. Strange, confounding sights streaked by as the cab bulleted through the city’s cement arteries. A kaleidoscopic blur.

The driver recognized Artan’s expression. He saw it day in and day out and knew it all too well.

“First time in the Big Apple?”

Artan nodded quietly. His forlorn, slightly lost countenance spoke louder than words.

Table of Contents

- Title Page
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- AUTHOR INFO
- CROSSING THE DARKNESS
- Crossing Sample
- FEAR THE LIGHT
- Fear Sample
- GARGOYLE KNIGHT
- Gargoyle Sample