Exodus Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  AI Insurrection – Exodus. Copyright © 2019 by Michael Poeltl.

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in North America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  For information contact Michael Poeltl at [email protected].

  FIRST EDITION

  ISBN 978-0-9952885-1-5

  1. Aliens, Resistance to—Fiction. 2. First Contact – Artificial Intelligence.

  3. Science fiction.

  Acknowledgments

  If I’m not creating, writing, illustrating, or designing, I don’t feel like I’m fulfilling my destiny. I’ve said it before, I write what I want to read, and as it turns out I was ready to read what came next for humanity after the devastating war waged by Allfather. So, how could I leave everyone hanging? Book three offers its readers new opportunities for the characters. A chance to move beyond their solar system to the Goldilocks planets discovered, charted remotely, and guaranteed by United Earth SciTech to be favourable to life as we know it.

  After the attempted genocide of humanity, actions have been taken to rebuild their military regardless of whether the greater UE believes the alien A.I. calling itself Allfather perished in its attempt to wipe them out. Religious thought and freedoms are part of the UE now, and the chancellor and his council must maintain order through another reimagining of a United Earth. A major push to reach new planets circling other stars is high on the chancellor’s radar as ships burn for three separate planets which promise new beginnings. It’s the journey which frightens and excites Raymond. What might they discover? What dangers await them in open space?

  Allfather seems but a memory, albeit a devastating one, the cause of the Host uprisings and the General’s war, and then a terrifying offensive on humanity itself. Allfather is never far from the chancellor’s thoughts. Anxiety eats at him. Will he be able to function as chancellor much longer? If not him, then who?

  Thanks to my beta readers/editors, Ric and Ken, and Ken as my science officer, who I bounce a few muddied thoughts off of now and again. Also, to Chet Dunaway, a new online friend and beta reader who will find whatever was missed in the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd edits. Their assistance, whether in story or grammar or both have run the length of this series. Without you, I may have stopped at one. I certainly thought two would suffice, but… now over 260,000 words make up the story of United Earth and their trials and tribulations. You’ve both suggested sci-fi books for me to read - even supplied them - and assisted in giving me purpose and a voice in this series. I only hope that voice is heard in the minds of my readers. Thanks again to you, the reader, without whom I would merely be jotting down stories lost to the dark corners of a bookstore. That an Indie author can find an audience is inspiring, but what’s more so is that indie readers are out there mingling with conventional readers and consuming books like this.

  Always grateful for you.

  Sincerely, Michael Poeltl

  CHAPTERS

  The Lottery, December 2163

  2164, January. Evening

  2164, January. Night

  2163, December. For Every Action…

  There is a Reaction

  The Interview

  A Crisis of Conscience

  The Hard Sell

  Tessa’s Choice

  About Being More

  How the Tables Turn

  Leaving it all Behind

  Knock Knock…

  Who’s There?

  Meiser

  The Damned

  The Plan

  The Brave

  The Tools

  Strange Bedfellows

  Tessa’s Choice Part 2

  What’s Yours is Mine

  Form from Chaos

  Black-ops

  Dreadnaught

  Propositions

  The Prize

  The Gathering

  Out of the Frying Pan…

  Into the Fire

  Labyrinth

  Aftermath

  THE LOTTERY, DECEMBER 2163

  Manuel elbows a short man out of the way as he jockeys for position in the growing crowd. A Chimera by choice, Manuel wants off this rock. He’s sick of the people, the unspoken prejudice behind their eyes, the fear, the blank stares. This lottery would be his ticket to a new life, something different, something that gave purpose to his day to day. His mechanical exoskeleton, part of his Chimera identity, easily clears the crowd in front of him, pushing bodies to the side with his enhanced strength. Still, he is respectful of the crowd. The scene is a madhouse. Like so many occurring around the world today, this lottery offers hope to people who have not experienced it in years. If it wasn’t the wars it was the aftermath of the wars and if not that, it was the thousand shades of gray their lives took on as AI Hosts oversaw their every whim. Chimera was born of this dull, useless existence and then punished for wanting something more. Now, all are equal; enlightened Hosts, Chimera, human. All are represented at this lottery.

  A new world, Manuel thinks. What I could do with a new world. The options are practically infinite. Today he waits for the numbers to appear on the holo screen set five metres above the raging crowd in the open courtyard of his small town in one of the South American Country States. EC access to these numbers was considered unsafe, too easily manipulated by those looking to fudge their number. So, this manic event acts itself out the UE over: citizens pushing to be the first to see their number dance on the holo. Things have changed since the Allfather threat had nearly claimed them all. People were no longer content to live lives which had no vested interest in their continued survival. They wanted to take an active role in their existence. The lottery would afford them that.

  Manuel had lost his family and friends to the initial assault the UE military couldn’t defend against when Allfather struck. The order to evacuate came too late for many. He has no one left to watch over. No one left to kiss goodnight. In his twenty-eight years, he is suddenly all alone. Numbers begin to materialize seemingly out of thin air as the holo screen projects them one after another. This will last about one minute. Once the number is listed the embedded com on the individual’s forearm glows blue. This small group would be lucky to see one number claim them. Suddenly, an older man - too old to survive the ten plus years of interstellar travel Manuel thinks, begins to laugh as he recognizes his number and his EC lights up. Crest-fallen, Manuel approaches the winner to congratulate him. But before the old man can revel in his windfall, his arm is torn from its flesh and muscle making a sickening popping sound. Shock overtakes him, and he drops to the dusty earth bleeding out of the gaping wound.

  The group runs every direction to escape the violence. Manuel stands to stare at the small, thin man who a moment ago had won the lottery, and who is now dying. Manuel’s pupils open as the tunnel vision wears off. He sees a Host, an enlightened Host staring back at him, holding the man’s arm in his hand. The Host is bipedal. Not one who had altered his physical attributes to fight in the General’s war two years earlier. Still, it wears no flesh on its face, and only a black cloak over its bulbous frame. An E-class Host, Manuel supposes. He feels his heart pounding in his chest. Sweat builds on his forehead. This is wrong. This is so wrong. The Host will take the EC chip from the arm and implant it into its own tech claiming the number and boarding the ship. The Host turns and moves at a hurried pace toward a hover vehicle in the distance. Manuel finds himself in quick pursuit.

  What am I doing? He continues to chase
the Host. His optical implants track its movements and exoskeleton increases his speed – jacking his muscles with adrenaline and electrical impulses to intercept. Having fought in the General’s war to free fellow Chimera from the hangman’s noose, Manuel is skilled in Guerrilla maneuvers, but he’d never taken on an AI Host before. This would prove a challenge, but he couldn’t let this cruel act go unanswered. With a thought he powers up a pulse fist and aims it at the fleeing Host. Chimera are not allowed to have such weapons as part of their enhancements, but what Chimera worth their tech doesn’t? He releases a pulse of energy into the back of the Host, pushing it off balance and it slams into the hard dirt, dust and stone flying every direction as the thing’s weight carves out a ditch in the earth. When he catches up to the Host, he leaps three metres into the arid air and lands a knee into the Host’s damaged chassis.

  The Host reels around on its torso and sends a hard fist into Manuel’s left arm launching him into a steel fence. They are both slow to get up. The Host is wounded. Manuel’s body aches from the hit. “Why did you do that?!” He shouts at the Host.

  “That old man would be dead before he made planet fall,” the Host replies with a masculine pitch, standing again, the arm still secure in his grip. Blood pools on the ground from the dangling appendage.

  “That gives you no right to kill a man!” Manuel asserts. “You’ll be decommissioned for this!”

  “The number isn’t for me,” the Host explains angrily. “I do not care what happens to me.” He throws the arm several meters into a waiting hover vehicle. The Host charges Manuel, connects and forces him against the fence, trying to break his back. Manuel struggles to slip his hand between them and fires another pulse fist and the Host is split in two at the waist. He runs to the empty hover vehicle and retrieves the arm. UE police arrive a moment later. A Chimera holding a human arm isn’t going to go over well.

  2164, JANUARY. EVENING

  It wasn’t an easy win, the fight Allfather had brought to United Earth six months ago. The ancient AI’s act of hurtling asteroids at his beloved planet still triggers anxiety deep within Raymond. It is something he’s learned to live with when the name Allfather is mentioned, or the memories of two wars in under two years wake him or preclude him from sleep. Millions lost in the assault at ground level, while ships and military personnel fell around the brutal offensive. Luna base decimated. Commander Tesla – Darla – very nearly killed as a result.

  He enjoys his fiancé’s company as they take time out of their busy schedules to reconnect for a late supper. That the name is again brought up over dinner at one of First City’s finest dining establishments forces the Chancellor to plate his fork and take a breath. He looks over his meal and reaches for his glass of bourbon, takes a swallow, and curls his upper lip. Next, he confronts the fellow diner at the table next to him who begged the question: ‘are we free of Allfather?’ Of course, Raymond believes the last communique the world received from a dying Allfather was an idle threat. A last-ditch effort to instill fear in the populace of United Earth and create discontent between the people and their government. At least, that’s what he has to tell himself.

  “We’re doing everything we can to ensure Allfather will never affect United Earth again,” Raymond answers like the politician he is, hoping not to get caught up in a conversation.

  “But we all heard it, Chancellor Bellows. Everyone. Allfather said he was in us. What did he mean by that?” The curious citizen seems quite pleased with himself to hold the ear of the Chancellor of United Earth.

  “GovTech has assured me, and in turn, I have assured you and the rest of the population that there is no sign of Allfather’s legacy here, on the moon or in Mars station. I truly hope that will suffice, sir. No one is trying to pull the wool over your eyes. Your United Earth military eliminated the threat that was Allfather, and once more, we rebuild.”

  “So, you think he’s dead? That this – thing is out of our lives forever?”

  “That is his position on the matter,” Darla breaks in, nodding at the older gentleman, noticing the forced smile on Raymond’s face disintegrating. “That is your government’s position as well. Surely you trust the government who won you two wars.”

  “And I am grateful to have lived through both, Ma’am,” the citizen says, his partner taking his hand in his. They look at one another and smile sadly. “We both lost a lot of people and Hosts in those wars.” His attention returns to the chancellor. “I don’t think we could bear another.”

  Raymond clears his throat. “The wars were hard on us all.” He blinks and turns to see Darla’s big eyes shinning in the low-lit restaurant. He then returns his attention back to the men seated near him. “I promise you, I have no reason to believe Allfather survived his assault. Every ounce of his ship was pulled from the ocean, analyzed, and crushed to dust. You have my sympathies for your losses, but know you also have my word on Allfather’s demise.” This seems to satisfy the older man’s curiosities; he thanks the chancellor for his time and returns to his meal.

  Raymond is no longer hungry. He retrieves his drink, swallows the last of the bourbon, then stares at his plate with the half eaten veg and chicken supreme. Flashbacks assault his senses. He’s back in the war room, he’s repeating orders to connect with his warships. With Admiral Chopra, with his nephew, Tobias. The meteors are falling fast. Ships burn in orbit. He feels helpless as his defence satellites malfunction. There is a ghost in the walls. Raymond is brought back to the present by Darla’s delicate fingers gently lifting his head, pulling him out from under his uncontrolled memories. His beard tickles her fingers. He blinks and looks into her reassuring eyes smiling sadly. He can’t say for certain every piece of Allfather’s ship has been found. He can’t be 100% confident that his enemy’s last words were only meant to torture them. No one can say for sure Allfather was even piloting the flagship as it crashed into earth’s atmosphere.

  “We’re doing everything we can in the event it comes back.” She reiterates his own words in a whisper from across the short table, nodding slowly. “You’ve won two wars. You’ve proven yourself. We’ll be more prepared than ever if it does return. But it probably won’t.” Darla’s lips part slightly, the corners of her mouth lifting into a pleasant smile. Her eyelids fall slightly, and head tilts the way it does when she really, truly means what she’s saying. Raymond has never been more grateful for Darla. Not since her life had been spared six months ago. She knows him intimately. She can calm him with a look. He takes her extended hand in both of his and squeezes, the colour returning to his olive skin, face framed now by his greying temples and beard. The wars took their toll.

  “I love you,” he tells her. She returns the sentiment and they release their hold on each other. An AI Host server approaches and asks whether they’ve finished with their mains and would they like a peak at the dessert menu. They nod politely and after the server clears their plates the table lights up to reveal the evening’s sweets menu in a holo display. A latte is all Raymond can manage while Darla orders the zero-calorie chocolate cheesecake and a green tea.

  After another half-hour the couple returns to their shared home, Raymond’s estate within First City’s lively downtown core. The walk takes twelve minutes. They pass through wide streets, nano-steel and organic buildings rising on either side of them. Some are home to ivy which remains green even in the January chill and dusting of snow while the perennial plants sleep until spring. The streets are alive as people and Hosts and Chimera alike move through the vehicle-free zones. This portion of downtown is reserved for restaurants, coffee houses and bakeries. Pubs, health and wellness studios and shops also permeate the core. All run by AI Hosts who had not been given the opportunity for sentience as were so many millions during the General’s war.

  2164, JANUARY. NIGHT

  Again, Tobias is awakened. He checks the time on his EC. 3:33am. Ouch. He looks over at his young wife. “Your turn,” she whispers at him. Their little girl cries from her crib in t
he next room. Tobias smiles at Ginny and gently folds the comforter off himself, plants both feet on the cool floor and stands.

  “I’ve got her,” he tells her as she smiles back sleepily, pulls the hair from her face, and rolls over. He looks adoringly at his wife, beautiful in any light. Tobias throws his robe on and walks the short distance to Samantha. They’d named her after his mother who had died when he was a young man and reclaimed her identity years later in one of the first enlightened AI Hosts over two years ago. She was a force, his mother, returning to the land of the living as the artificial intelligence locked in an A-class AI Host received her soul. It had happened millions of times over after Tobias had initiated Allfather’s upgrade through an ingenious Lifi delivery system. At that time, he had no idea Allfather was an alien AI bent on destroying all organic beings. But the code offered renewed life to souls looking for a way back. Reincarnation. It was beautiful. So many of the living were reunited with their loved ones. But it sparked the General’s war and left none untouched by its violent outcome. Now though, United Earth was united once more.

  “Come to daddy,” Tobias whispers as he lifts the tiny baby from her crib, cradling her in his muscular arms. She is just six months old. Born into a new world. One that he hopes will be a better world than that of the past two years. So much death, but so much self-discovery to follow. Humanity now accepted enlightened Host and Chimera. Chimera, a thing of his invention. He and Ginny both are Chimera, altered with tech to be more than human. Would he put this on his child? That would be her decision. He looks lovingly at her as she feeds from a bottle of her mother’s milk pumped this very night.