Prime

Stevens produced a box of cigars. He held the box before him like a trophy he was about to bestow upon Miss Cela Corporation. I suddenly felt self-conscious, looking down at my feet, and then off to where Gale appeared at the far side of the hanger. He must have heard about the cigars. As he approached, I scratched at the neck of my armour. It wasn’t the same Baydon tech I had worn before; this armour felt like a second skin – almost too comfortable.

“This is a significant occasion, CYG7,” Stevens nearly shouted, and I raised an eyebrow. There were only a handful of people in the hanger; they were dismantling the huge corporate national flag that hung nearly the length of the hanger. The size of it in comparison to the workers was almost overwhelming, much like Baydon Industries itself. Spanning from the Prince Edward facility to Vancouver Island, it formed the government of one of the largest corporate nations in the world. The country, formally known only as Annex C, and previously Canada, was the birth nation of Christiaan Baydon, founder of Baydon Industries.

Being briefed by the CEO used to be an honour, even though I was usually briefed by holovid. Standing in front of Stevens, the new CEO of Baydon Industries, made me clench my jaw.

“I have been through reintegration before –

“Sure,” Stevens smiled, opening the box of cigars. Gale had approached us, and I caught him rolling his eyes behind Stevens’ back. Stevens held the box out to me; I hesitated. What exactly was he celebrating? It couldn’t be my reintegration. I forced myself to take a deep breath and took a cigar.

“What is the occasion?” Gale muttered, helping himself to a cigar; Stevens stopped him by handing him the entire box.

“Where is everybody?” I recognized the hanger as a cyg test facility, but I had never seen so few people in it. Most of the equipment was gone; the space dwarfed us.

“Vancouver,” Gale answered. “That’s where we’ll be going after this –

“We?” I was confused. Stevens had given me the impression I was going someplace alone. “You’re coming with me?”

Gale gave me a curt nod.

“I told you I had an opportunity for you, Seven,” Stevens replied, dropping the CYG from my name and opening his arms wide. At first I thought he might do something as repulsive as hug me, but logic dictated it was unlikely to happen. Instead, Stevens took a step back, and I realized he was motioning at the hanger around us. “Today, you have unlocked potential. The modifications I have made –

“What modifications?” Gale interrupted, his brows furrowed together.

Stevens smiled again; I felt my mouth form a thin line.

“I’m sure you don’t feel any different, Seven. The virus was designed to modify the nano-bots function and power –

I had noticed Gale’s face turn several shades of red while Stevens spoke, until –

“Virus?” Gale nearly shouted. While I noticed the hanger was now empty except for the three of us, the word Stevens used had not been lost on me. I was vaguely aware of Baydon Industries researching and trying to develop modifying viruses for nano-technology – viruses meant to change the characteristics and behaviors of the nano-bots, presumably to make a cyg stronger or faster. Viruses that could cause the nano-bots to re-arrange DNA and morph the cyg into new and better things – or so it was attempted. I had never heard of a successful trial.

“That’s right,” Stevens was still smiling – beaming, in fact. “We have been developing this during your time in stasis. You were the perfect test subject. Not only is there a perfect symmetry between your DNA and the nano-bots, but both have now accepted the CYG-PR virus.”

Nobody spoke for several seconds, until Gale finally sputtered, his face a dangerous shade of purple.

“Prime?” he managed. “Are you saying you infected her with Prime?”

“Not infected,” Stevens snapped. “Perfected. She is now Prime.” He turned to me, and I caught a sudden spark of desperation in his eye. “Seven was your prototype number. Now you are Prime - the single most significant achievement of this corporation.” Stevens made a swift motion with his hand, preventing Gale from speaking further. “You’re being naïve, man. Do you think the whole world is like Toronto Island? Or Vancouver Island? We’re protected here; it’s chaos out there – we’re on the brink of the fucking dark ages and before you stands the only beacon of light we have. If anybody can break the silence, it’s Baydon Industries. But we need Donnell, and to get Donnell we need Prime.

“When’s the last time you spoke to your wife?” Stevens changed the subject.

“You know damn well I haven’t!” Gale shouted, but something on his face told me that Stevens had hit a nerve.

“Wait,” I said, before Stevens could continue. “Dark ages? How bad is it? What is happening?”

Stevens sighed, and Gale never took his eyes off of him. I suddenly felt very tired.

“I told you before,” Stevens ran a hand through his thinning white hair. “The whole world is dark. No communication of any kind, save god-damn smoke signals – two tin cans and a string. We’re using Morse code, for god’s sake! We don’t know how it happened. It seemed to spread from Montreal and in less than a week the whole world was… dark.” He spread his hands before him, at loss for a better word.

“But you can direct link to me,” I stated, referring to Steven’s earlier visit while I was in stasis.

“Direct, and nano-link. If Baydon Industries has a chance at cracking this, we need both you and Donnell. Like I said, outside of the corporation safety zones, it’s like the world stopped completely. There’s a lot of anger and frustration in the world right now. People don’t understand and don’t know how to handle what is happening. Mass destruction of holocommunication providers, retail outlets – looting mostly. People frustrated that their toys aren’t working and try to find solutions themselves. It’s a nightmare, but to top it off, governments and corporations are running blind. Word travels as fast as the person carrying it. If we can crack nano-communication –

“I think you’re making an awful lot of assumptions,” Gale said without expression. “Donnell won’t help us. And besides, it’s worse than that. Much worse.”

“He has to,” Stevens ignored him. “This is his company, his legacy –

“He killed fifteen children and his own wife to stop this legacy,” Gale shouted so forcefully I thought he might keel over.

Stevens looked away and I felt myself pale. When I dream, it is always of Donnell turning away from the airlock door, what was left of his torn arm hanging limply at his side. “Not on my watch,” he muttered over and over again between sobs. “Never again on my watch.”

“He was sick,” I finally murmured.

“Sick my ass!” Gale shouted. “He murdered –

“Enough!” I shouted, surprised as my voice ripped through the hanger like a shockwave. We stood like wilted reeds, and I felt as though my knees might give; I knew they wouldn’t, but the sensation flooded my brain. Gale let out a terrible sigh and I closed my eyes. “You said it was worse?”

Gale didn’t speak and when I looked at him, he kept his eyes on the floor.

“We should show her,” Stevens started, but Gale shouted him down.

“You show her!” he spat. “You show her what you’re about to throw her into!”

Stevens opened his mouth, but reconsidered.

“Meet me at observation tower six,” Gale muttered, shoving the box of cigars back at Stevens. “You better make sure I have those clearance codes in twenty minutes, Stevens,” he barked before turning on his heel and stalking out of the hanger.

Stevens refused to meet my eye as I waited for him to speak. When he finally did, he handed me the box of cigars. I sighed.

“Meet me back here in one hour. I’ll explain everything about Prime to you then.” Stevens turned to leave as well, leaving me standing alone in the hanger. I turned to follow Gale up to observation tower six, pausing long enough to drop the box of cigars – a rude, dismissive gesture, but the box felt cheap and ridiculous in my hand.  I wanted to throw it.

I had nothing to celebrate, and something told me what Gale had to show me was not good at all. It was hard to imagine what Steven’s idea of Armageddon was; Gale, however, I trusted. While the hand at my throat twisted, I felt a second hand snake down my chest and clench my stomach.

The observation tower was a short tram ride from the Toronto Island complex. The inland was cut off from ground and lake traffic, but the tram took me to an underground elevator directly beneath the tower.

When I emerged on the mid-deck of observation tower six, Gale was leaning on the far rail, looking down approximately 1000 feet toward the expanse of Toronto Island complex. The clouds made the waters of Lake Ontario almost black, like a tar lapping at the shores. Around us, crumpling, twentieth centuries architecture was dwarfed by the sleek mega-structures of Baydon Industries. Further out, the landscape of the residential areas rose and fell like a wave crashing against the inner city.

“What can you see?” I shouted to Gale across the strong gusts of wind; the wind roared past my ears and I saw Gale point. I pinpointed on reading his lips: “…see groups of them mostly by the shore lines. It’s hard to see on a day like this. They just stand there, black as the water. On a sunny day they almost shine; aqua-like.”

My eyes followed to where he was pointing and I zoomed in on what I had missed before. Groups of men were standing in the shallow waters of Lake Ontario’s shores; they were surrounding Toronto Island. Few came inland, but those that did were moving – walking. They were unclothed, dark and featureless. I couldn’t see a ‘normal’ person in sight.

“Where is everybody?” My eyes returned to focus on Gale’s face. He was still looking below.

“Evacuated. Fled.” His murmur was lost in the wind, but I continued to read his lips. “They’re non-violent, as far as we can tell,” Gale pointed to a group of the creatures that were closer inland. They moved slowly, but didn’t shuffle or appear disoriented. “Scary as hell when they just started walking up on the shores though.”

Gale was looking at me when my eyes snapped to his. “Thousands of them,” he continued, never looking away. “Stevens doesn’t even mention them, but there they are. Everywhere. Walked up every shore of every damn major body of water across the globe. He’s worried about making holovid calls.” Gale’s eyes had widened and he threw his hands up. “I haven’t seen or spoken to my wife in fifteen weeks. I don’t know if she is ok. I don’t know if she evacuated, and Stevens wants to send us out so that he can play king of the empire when this is all over.” Gale let go of the railing with one hand, running it through his thick white hair.

“What have people been doing?” I asked. I had been in stasis for so long, I found that I continually had to remind myself that I once again was part of reality. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the reality I remembered. The number of featureless ‘men’ I had counted below now reached the high thousands.

“What do you expect?” Gale grumbled, though I had no answer. “Those of us with any intelligence left for someplace ‘safer’, whatever that means. Those who stayed behind tried to eke some normalcy out of the chaos, but entire lives have changed. Some people went crazy, killed themselves or killed others. Other people loot and destroy property, while others still try to provide safe haven for those who couldn’t get out of the city. The last group worries me. My wife would be in the last group.”

I closed my eyes before saying, “She’s a good person.” I placed a hand on Gale’s shoulder. “People recognize that and will protect her, especially if she’s trying to help others.”

“I suspect that you’re about as naïve as I am,” Gale chuckled. “There’s a fine line between being strong enough to help others when you need help yourself, and just being a plain old sucker.”

I was silent as I stared at Gale. I have never heard him talk about his wife that way. She was always a paragon in his eyes; ready to drop everything in order to set something straight. Gale thought she had finally crossed a line – one where helping others would ultimately be detrimental to her.  Finally, I spoke. “You think she is being taken advantage of?”

Gale nodded slightly; then, shook his head, giving me a confused look. “I fear the worst,” he finally muttered. “People change when under pressure or in complete chaos. Nothing is predictable. I fear the worst,” he repeated.”

“Has anyone tried to talk to these –?

“We’ve tried.” He knew what I was thinking.
“We think they are responsible for whatever is blocking communication. Can’t prove it. They don’t speak - if they do, we don’t understand them, and they don’t seem to care for being understood. If you attack one, it dissolves.”

While Gale spoke, my eyes drifted back and zoomed in on a group of the creatures again. I opened and closed my mouth as if to say something, but I wasn’t quite sure what I was seeing.

“They’re water?” I finally spoke, still looking down at the creatures.

“I doubt it,” Gale sighed, “but all tests conclude otherwise. If there is something in the water, it’s dissipating before we can get samples. When people learned they can’t attack these things, and won’t be attacked by them, people started leaving. It was clear that soon it would be hard to move with so many bodies about… Do you hear that?”

I raised an eyebrow and enhanced my hearing, blocking out the sound of the wind.

“It’s worse on the ground,” Gale explained. “A electric hum – or something very similar.”

I couldn’t pinpoint what Gale was speaking of; I did hear something. I concentrated for several seconds on the sound, and while it wasn’t a hum, it was pulsing. “There’s a pattern,” I frowned. “What does it mean? What does this mean?” I gestured below where the small groups of figures were slowly moving back towards the water.

Gale stepped away from the railing and shrugged. He looked as though he was wincing. “I don’t know, Jack,” he finally answered, sighing. “But I have a horrible feeling...” his voice trailed off as he seemed to reconsider. “I have this horrible feeling,” he repeated, this time chuckling, though there was no mirth on his face.

“Me too,” I muttered, thinking about my unorthodox reintegration; about Stevens and Prime; about Gale and the fact that he hasn’t seen or spoken to his wife; about Donnell, and about the choked shores of Toronto Island. I felt as though the invisible hand was tearing at my throat.

“Me too…”