The Clone Bible -
Chapter 3 -
Nikolai watched the large steel doors open and close for a third time. Everyone in the room looked nervous. Nail biting, sideways glances, and elbows leaned forward on fidgeting knees. This would be his second time up for review. It happened to everyone occasionally. Something went wrong, some unforeseen hiccup in one's carefully laid plan. The men in the room were engineers, scientists, directors of operations, and strategy counsel leads. Men with titles and purpose. He was just a coder by all accounts, a handyman for misbehaved clones. B209 was different though. In all other cases Nikolai had been able to recondition the minds back to obedience.
It came time for Nikolai to walk past those doors, towards a desk of official looking men.
“Nikolai. You know why you're here. B209 been put back into command again prematurely. Why?”
“I thought he was fit for battle. The simulation I made accounted for all contingencies. When put into effect, however, he reverted back to a previous mental state. I'v never seen a will strong enough to override programming like that.”
“So you did not you knowingly conscript a defected clone for battle?”
“No. It was my understanding that he was suitable for command.”
“As you know, B209's record is impressive. Despite destroying another gateway to the enemy, we can't give up on him yet. He will be reassigned to another.”
“Sir, I believe that would be unwise. My experience with the clone is unmatched. Having another learn and make the same mistakes I've made will only hinder progress.”
“Progress? Nikolai, no one is questioning your ability. We are questioning your motives. You swore allegiance 7 years ago, bringing enemy secrets, stowed away in a captured resource frigate. Tell us again why you decided to turn your back on your faction?”
“I saw a culture of decadence and spectacle. Conventionalists are not interested in truth, only in convenience.”
“Your distaste of the culture was so great that you betrayed friends and family? That can't be the whole story.”
“There was nothing left for me there.”
“Most people who have defected have an experience of God. A pure, unadulterated conversion. This doesn't sound like you.”
“You can scour my memories if you like, but I won't lie to you. My faith is ambivalent, but my motives are not.”
“It seems changes of heart are common with you.”
“Are my loyalties being questioned?”
“They are being reviewed. We're asking you to turn in your bracer. Report to the supervising neural engineer at once. We will be analyzing your work carefully. If nothing is amiss, you'll be reinstated.”
“And if not?”
“We all swore the same oath. You joined because you crave order and God's providence. If any negligence is found, swift punishment will follow. Until that time, you are innocent, but we ask that you remain in a holding pod. Dismissed.”
Nikolai could not get in another word. They were detaining him. Ascetics had no prisons, only pods where defectors lived out their lives in an imagined reality they often never woke up from. Some cases were never reviewed. The system was so bogged down it could be a practical eternity before they made a decision. Outside the doors, an armed escort waited to guide him back to the military base below. The bracer on his forearm would have to be surgically removed. He would have no access to the database of clone consciousness and his memories would be carefully examined. They took an elevator down to the lower levels, passing an inspection zone before winding to the incubation pod. The neural engineer met him outside.
“Thank you gentlemen. That will be all."
“Our orders were to see that his bracer is removed and that he is placed in a holding pod.”
“And he will be. Nikolai, you're not going anywhere, are you?”
“I'm not a traitor.”
The guards looked at Nikolai and then at each other, allowing him to pass through the doors and waiting outside.
“I'm sorry Nik,” he said as they walked through the room, “I don't know why they would do this. Everyone fails sometimes to correct a clone's mind. I swear I checked the equipment twice. Nothing was out of line.”
They approached a machine that Nikolai stuck his arm into, wincing after it was clamped in place.
“Are you ready?” the neural engineer asked.
Nikolai looked past him, noticing something odd. One of the pods began opening.
“What's happening?” Nikolai asked.
The engineer turned to see a large figure climb out of the pod, ripping out the probes hooked to his arms and neck. Nikolai could have recognized him anywhere, it was B209. Before the engineer could scream the clone bolted through the aisle of pods, gripping the engineer by the neck with a single hand. Gurgling sounds came from his mouth as his face turned blue, his eyes shut, and he went limp. B209 dragged him back to the pod, his powerful arms and legs twice the size of any human. He threw the engineer inside and, without warning, shut the door. Nikolai stood immobilized, his arm clamped, with the blue eyes he'd looked through for several months now staring back at him.
Chapter 4 -
Ari woke with the waves washing back and forth across his legs under a night sky, surrounded by bare legs standing over him. The hum of strings and blare of horns filled the space between a steady percussion in the distance. The group of villagers gently lifted and carried him to a bonfire where others danced. When they came into view, with Ari limping on the shoulder of two men, a cry of children preceded the trailing of drums. They looked at him, the entire village speaking in a hushed, strange language. When the commotion settled, he was welcomed to the fire and given a wooden bowl. The music burst back into the air with new vigor, celebrating the arrival of what he later learned, meant “Star Traveler.” He ate quietly, his head ringing while staring into the fire, uncertain of everything except the salty taste of food.
A week later, he reflected on that first night on the island, perched atop a cliff looking at the sunset. The natives had taken care of him for three days before allowing him to roam as he wished. Sometimes he fished, sometimes he worked with the artisans of the island, and often he would come up to this cliff to reminisce about his old life.
Little made sense about his current situation, like how he survived. The island's inhabitants spoke of other tribes or people of the planet. It seemed as if they were weary they might visit. Relying on drawings and daily context, Ari picked up fragments of the language, learning to ask if any other ships had crashed from the sky. They looked bewildered and led him the back side of the island. Pointing far off into the distance where they indicated a great splash with sweeping gestures.
He looked in that direction now, noticing a sail vaguely above the horizon. The dream of a tree growing up and up through the water flashed in his mind. Ari stood, watching the ship grow in the distance. He headed down the rocky path and arrived as the villagers gathered at the shore. Their hands were raised and they shouted the same strange sound. On closer inspection, the vessel appeared to be built much like something out of an old history book Ari had seen.
Men eventually rowed over in a smaller skiff. They were a rough looking sort, wearing hides and pelts with horned helmets. Axes, swords, and shields covered their bodies, some wearing slings at their belts. There was a formal meeting between leaders, each offering something. The villagers gave a net of fish in return for a small, obsidian ornament. They spoke a while before pointing to Ari. The crowd dissolved back to leave him standing alone. The horned leader outstretched an arm in greeting, and gestured towards the skiff. Ari looked to the villagers who nodded, motioning towards it as well. Uncertain, but without an alternative, Ari got in followed by the band of soldiers. The villagers shouted and waved as they rowed away.
When they arrived at the main vessel, Ari climbed up the roping and was brought back to a cabin past a startled crew. He was forced to kneel before a crowned man on an elevated throne with a woman at his side. She wore the head of an animal in a revealing robe, holding a staff decorated with a gnarled crystal. Ari looked up as she outstretched a hand and the crystal glowed. He dropped to the ground, a piercing pain emanating out from his skull. Images and sounds exploded in a cacophony. He screamed, dropping to the ground clutching his head. Before he slipped from consciousness, he heard, “We sail for Tyre!” and an eruption of cheers.
His head ached when he woke. The room was small and he judged himself to be in a high tower. Out of a stone window, an early dusk gleamed on the water, dancing off the waves. A maid entered carrying a tray with metal dishes and lit candles at his bedside. He was unable to produce a sound.
She smiled, “Don't force it. The High Priestess said it will take time. She will be here later. In the wardrobe you'll find some clothes. I hope they fit.”
Ari nodded and words battled in his mind. Even glancing around the room caused him to strain with sounds and meanings blending together. He closed his eyes, laid his head down, and tried to concentrate, staying like that until the door opened.
“You recover quickly Star Traveler. The last foreigner I cast that spell on nearly lost his sight.”
Ari raised his eyebrows.
She laughed, “I wont' ask you to speak, but it will be good to hear the sounds of my voice and begin thinking and seeing in our language. Stand, come.” She moved to the wardrobe, taking out breeches and a tunic. Ari paused looking under the covers. “I've seen my fair share Star Traveler.” He rose and she helped him dress. “There. You look like a man of Tyre now.” He followed her down a spiraling stone stairway to ramparts where men patrolled with crossbows.
“This is the city of Tyre, capital of the Westlands, and one of the most prosperous links between the East and the Mainlands.” A host of sails could be seen anchored in the distance. Ari motioned towards the armada, his face puzzled.
“Those are the King's forces, who you've met. He is at war with his younger brother, the ruler of Tyre. Your arrival for us is a religious portent. Just before a siege seemed inevitable, your ship fell from the sky. Negotiations ceased for a time of holy observation. In the meanwhile we investigated your arrival, sailing from island to island, asking for any news. And here you are. As High Priestess, it is up to me to interpret your divinity.”
They walked down the stairs and through the courtyard, drawing significant attention as they walked. The priests staff was glowing as night fell and torches lit up.
“I knew you would come Star Traveler. My Elder foretold it months ago before we sailed for Tyre. Nothing will happen for a few more days until the holy period ends. Then the fighting can begin. Unless you can convince them otherwise.” They walked through the streets, attracting passerby's glares and suspicious looks from windows beneath thatched roofs.
“War or no war, I am the High Priestess. I go where I please.” She said noticing his concern. “They think you are some kind of prophet.” The dark sea appeared around a corner. “I've been tasked with educating you before the holy days end. The King and his brother have many questions for you.”
“My name is Ari.”
“Are-ee,” she repeated.
On the docks they could hear the raucous shouts and faint music from afar. “I cannot speak for you at tomorrow's counsel Ari. They will ask me if you are some type of god or prophet, but I do not know. Perhaps you are, perhaps you aren't, perhaps you are and you don't know it. One thing gives me hope. The Elder I spoke of, the one who foretold of your coming, she disappeared that day. Only her staff and robe were found which I now possess. It is believe she ascended, something that hasn't happened since the first ships were seen in the sky."
"Ships?"
'They came in droves. A long time ago. We see them now and then, but you are the first we've met.”