Chapter 1: The Angels Cry at the Wickedness of Man
The sun began to crest over the edge of the world, it’s yellow ray’s piercing over the horizon like a golden crown above a beautiful blue ball. It was the seventh such sunrise Nick watched today as the station moved around the globe.
“You’ve done a beautiful job,” a woman’s voice said to Nick, as the large metal doors to the inner chamber opened. Nick didn’t respond, as he placed his hand against the window overlooking the world beneath him.
Crysanthea City, named for his wife, was just coming into view. Tall skyscrapers that seemed to pierce the atmosphere filled the inner city. Nick looked down at his creation, his city, his civilization, his life’s work since the fall of the Congress.
Crysanthea walked toward her husband, and reached around him from behind, slipping her right hand beneath his right arm, and up around his chest. He sighed as he looked up, gazing at her reflection in the glass. Her beautiful pale skin, and deep blue eyes looked forward toward the window, although her gaze was not outside, but on her husband’s reflection in the glass.
“What is troubling you?” she asked plainly, as Nick continued to look out at the world.
Nick’s voice was heavy, as if he was burdened by a weight even Atlas would struggle to hold up. “Do you think what we’ve done here is right?” Nick asked as he looked down at the blue orb below.
Crysanthea continued to look at her husband’s reflection, trying to gauge his mood. Nicholas was always an eccentric engineer, ever since she met him when they were teenagers, but since the total destruction of his civilization, he seemed to move between fits of depression to energetic creative whims that waxed and waned at a moment’s notice.
Crysanthea lifted her left hand and grasped Nick's shoulder, and gently tugged on him, to spin him to face her. He was starting to go gray, with small silver streaks running through his brown hair.
Crysanthea looked up at her love, her deep blue eyes connecting with his dark brown, as she slid her right hand toward his face. His skin was cold and dry, and she took a deep breath looking at him.
“You’ve built a city for your people,” she said. “You’ve repurposed our entire company for the endeavour of downloading all of the net, and using their digital profile to bring them back to the best we can. You’ve spent trillions of dollars on this project where others would have simply given up. You have much to be proud of.”
Nick took in a deep breath as he looked at her. “They are still violent. They are still looking to hurt one another instead of working together. Even knowing the destruction that wiped them out the first time, they continue to squabble and fight. In vain they try to kill each other, forcing us to redownload them into new bodies, each time.”
Crysanthea nodded. “It would appear then, that is what it means to be human, but that isn’t your failing, it is theirs.”
Nick reached up and pushed his wife’s long violet hair back behind her ear. “Are they still human when their bodies are grown and manufactured in plants? Do they still have a soul?”
She laughed, "Nicholas, when did you become a philosopher?”
Crysanthea City: The River Run District
The apartment building was full of smoke as Kyle reached over the table, cluttered with beer bottles for his pack of cigarettes. His arms and hands were covered in a variety of tattoos, one of his son, whom he hadn’t seen since the fall. He couldn’t really remember him, just the images taken and posted online, and a few posts and videos that were converted to memories.
He picked up his cigarette and took in a drag. His mind thought back to his son again, who may or may not have been brought back from Digi-Com. Was it really even his son? Was he actually Kyle, or some abomination who was programmed to think he was Kyle? He finished drawing on the cigarette and released another gray cloud of smoke into the room.
He could remember being on the police force in what was once Las Llanuras. He knew he was a detective. He could remember the arrest warrants, the cons he brought in, their mug shots and their crimes, but aside from body camera footage taken at the time, he couldn’t remember what happened in between. With his cigarette between his index and middle finger, he ran his hands through his hair, in an attempt to push aside the anxiety of not knowing.
His mind raced. Would he even know his wife or his son when they were printed? Would they be in the bodies he remembered, or would they be placed in a new body that he had never seen? Kyle continued to feel anxious as he pulled his hand down for another drag off his cigarette. As he took his draw, his finger’s began to feel like they were on fire.
“Shit.” He stood up, dropping his cigarette on an old carpet covered in stains. Picking up his left boot, he crushed the burning filter that was alight on the floor. “Son of a…,” he said, catching himself, as he bent over to pick up the smashed brown filter. Kyle hated being vulgar. He saw it as a trait low lifes and thugs shared. Looking down at the rug as he picked up his filter, he noticed the new burned hole in the carpet. He sighed and tossed the remains in an ashtray.
Kyle looked around the disheveled mess that surrounded him. Work was tough to find, even for a former detective. Tyrol Industries ran the whole show and subdivided up all the work between a few mega corporations around the world.
He applied to Security Services International, but they required more than experience. They required him to get implants that he could only get from Bio-Tec, but that would have cost him an arm and a leg, literally. He couldn't afford the implants. If he took out a loan from the Central Bank and didn’t get the job, he would have to deal with the loan sharks, and the sharks were not ones that accepted late payments.
Kyle knew he had to do something, aside from the small time side jobs that he knew violated the law, or codes of the River Run sector. Kyle went toward the closet of his one room apartment, and opened up the dresser. Looking at his clothes, he found a variety of shirts and shoes, all provided for the recently downloaded, to be paid back when he got his first legal job. Kyle didn’t know what kind of place he was brought back into. Heck, there was already an outstanding credit for his body that he had to pay back soon, before the CDC came in and put him to work in one of the mines around the planet. Without cybernetics, he knew his body wouldn’t last long, and then Mine-Care, the world’s only mining company would download him into a new body, and add it to his debt. Kyle put on the fresh shirt, knowing that in this world, he was screwed.
After getting dressed in a pair of brown khaki pants, a black T-shirt with the Medi-Corp red X logo across the front, and a simple black sports coat, Kyle descended the graffiti covered staircase down to the street. It was 9 am, so all the junkies and drunks were sleeping off the party from the night before. He knew this was the best time to go out and look for a job.
Kyle walked out into the crowded street. Empty Chinese noodle cartons, beer bottles, and bags of trash littered the sidewalk. Overhead, engines roared from the various cars flying overhead going toward the City Core. Turning his head west, he saw the clean and glistening corporate headquarters where the best, the brightest, and the most wealthy lived. Large flying billboards shined with neon colors with various advertisements for sodas, beer, video games and the like. One however, caught Kyle’s notice.
A lovely blond woman with metallic chrome skin, smiled down at him. It was a marvel, how with the new gram advertisers, they always seemed to look right at a person. “Tired of your meaningless life? Tired of being in debt? I know you are,” the voice said in a seductive tone, the kind that would normally be used in a cheesy erotica audiobook. “Join Project Odysseus, see the stars, and reconnect with those you’ve lost.”
Reaching into his pocket, Kyle pulled out another cigarette and lit it, as someone pushed against him. It was always like this in the poor district of River Run, a mindless stream of people walking toward a job, a restaurant, or to make some nefarious plans. Kyle turned to walk with the crowd.
The afternoon was hot, as the sun beat down on Kyle. His dress coat was soaked with sweat, and he was sure that any small amount of grooming he had done evaporated in the sun, like water on the road. He had been waiting in line for several hours in the Employment Agency line.
The Employment Agency was the one source of employment in the city. Bosses, Unions and Entrepreneurs all had to go through the employment agency to find sources of labor in Crysanthea City. It was a long, grueling process, but it was Kyle’s only hope of finding a job, before the Debt Collectors came for him.
“Calling number 1274,” Kyle heard outside the building. He looked down at his ticket and saw that his number matched.
“Finally,” he said in a gruff voice, although in the back of his mind he felt nervous. This was his shot at either making something of himself or being a debt slave in a mindless job for the rest of his existence. This was his chance to see his wife and his son again, if he could save enough money to get them printed.
Buttoning up his sport coat, he grabbed the door and opened it. The air conditioning blasted on high, sending a shiver across his sweat soaked skin. He quickly dropped his cigarette and crushed it on the floor as he walked toward the agency desk.
An obese older man stood up and held out his hand. “Kyle Watson.” Kyle reached forward and took the man’s hand, squeezing it firmly. “Please have a seat,” the agency man said.
The agent sat his heavy frame in an old wooden chair on rollers. Picking up his cigarette, the agent took a drag. Kyle looked at him strangely. The sign on the door clearly said “No smoking!” but the agent let out a puff of smoke.
“My name is Frank Malone,” he said as he took another drag.
Kyle shook his head, “I thought you weren’t allowed to smoke in here.”
Frank gave a boisterous chuckle. “Son, do you see any health inspectors around here? No, and you won’t. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, or you just got printed, let me tell ya, cops around here don’t give a shit, as long as you don’t piss off the corps, or get in their way. They don’t pay me enough to care what that sign says on the door. Now do you want a job or not?”
Kyle nodded, “Yes I would.”
A photo of Kyle floated above the worn oak desk, next to bright orange text that listed Kyle’s entire digital footprint showcasing his life before the Cataclysm and since being printed.
Taking a final drag from his cigarette, Frank smashed the red glowing ember in the ashtray as a second list, written in green appeared, listing all the jobs available in the city.
“I see you were a detective, married, one son, and you have an aversion to cussing,” Frank chuckled.
“Find that funny?”
Frank cracked a smile. “Yeah, I fucking do. I can always tell when someone is newly printed. Don’t worry, give it six more months in this city, and that note will be gone from your profile.”
“So what do I do?”
“Just sit back and let me take a look.” Frank scrolled through the screen. “We got several requests for maintenance. Or the mines and farms are always looking for new help,” Frank said, sizing him up.
“How about something that actually pays me a living wage?” Kyle asked, “Like security, or maybe you could get me back on the police force.”
Frank leaned back in his chair and laughed. Kyle watched the fat rolls on his stomach bounce like stale jello. “You’re kidding right? Look, it ain’t like the old days. You’re in a brand new body, civilian model. You don’t have any bio-tech, no cybernetics, hell, you’re basically just a new born babe in a world of monsters and giants. Even with your training, you’d get gunned down by some street thug in a minute, who has implants to let ‘em see through walls, with targeting chips in their head. Then, next thing ya know, the police will have to pay for your print, and who would they go after? He leaned forward and pointed a chubby index finger at Kyle. “That’s right, me for putting you on the force. No thanks, I don’t need that shit!” Frank pounded his fist on the desk to emphasize his point.
Kyle closed his eyes, holding back his anger. He didn’t ask to be brought back, and he sure as heckl wasn’t used to people talking to him with such disrespect. He stood up, putting the chair between him and Frank.
“What then, waste my life away, in some CDC work farm, scrapping to save some money to pay for my wife’s print? Never making enough cash to get my family back?”
“Well there is one job here. It’s got a lot of people wanting to sign up for it, but it pays a lot.”
Kyle perked up. He leaned forward and rested his hands against the rungs of the chair. “What is it?”
“Looks like Starlight is looking for people for their Re-contact Platform. I could get you on the list, but I’d need a favor first.”
Kyle reached in his pocket and pulled out a smoke. “Sounds like you’re about to con me, Frank.”
“Me? Never.” Frank waved away the notion like he was swatting a fly. “Look, in this world, all the money is owned by the big men upstairs.” Kyle followed Frank’s gaze to the ceiling. “But favors, favors, aren’t regulated, aren’t taxed, and honestly, looking at your background, I think you can do me a solid. If you do, I’ll get you on the Starlight project straight away.”
“What would the job mean, how much does it pay, and what do you want for it?”
Frank grinned. “You don’t waste any time, do ya mister?” Kyle didn’t answer.
“Well, Starlight LLC is looking for highly qualified diplomats, and people with technology skills to go off world, to try to reconnect with the other worlds. They’re looking for people who are good with people skills, possible espionage, and they pay a hundred and fifty grand a year.”
Kyle took a step back. “And I thought you didn’t want heat for unqualified employees. How in the heck would a street detective be qualified for that?”
Frank motioned for Kyle to give him a cigarette. Kyle reached in his pocket and handed him one.
“That’s the beauty of it.” Frank lit the cigarette. He took a drag and coughed up half a lung. “You get on, you get uploaded to the ship. You get sent out, and they’ll print you on the world for free. If you fail or get smoked, no skin off my nose, the natives were restless. You succeed, you’re a big damned hero and I get the credit for sending you up. It’s all a win for me, son, and if you pull it off, you’ll be pulling in enough dough that when you’re reprinted here, you can get your son and wife back too. If you fail, no worries, they’ll spin your wife up and she can pay for your reprint.” Frank looked as satisfied with himself as he was with the cigarette.
It was the best option, but in the back of Kyle’s mind he knew it was a deal with the devil. “And this favor?”
“Oh, it’s not much,” Frank promised. “When you get back, I want to download your memories. They pay big bucks for off world adventures on the street. Everything you see, hear, all of it.”
“What if there is classified info on the mission?” Kyle knew the answer before Frank spoke. “Make it even more valuable,” Frank said between drags. “Look, do we got a deal or don’t we?”
Kyle hated the idea of treason, but then again, who was the actual government? As far as he could tell there was none, just a bunch of corporations running the place, and he had never been loyal to the big wigs in their ivory towers.
“All right.” Kyle held his hand out to Frank. “You got a deal.”
“Frank smiled and shook Kyle’s hand firmly. “Good. I know you’re a man of your word from your profile, but…” Frank was about to continue, but Kyle stopped him.
“Yeah, and if you even think of threatening me, you’ll be having a bad day.”
Frank smiled. “Fantastic. I sent out your acceptance to Starlight. They’ll be here in ten minutes to fly you to the Center.”
“No training?” Kyle was taken aback.
“What do you think this is, the old days?” Frank chuckled. “Nah, when they upload you, they’ll add all the training you need to your file. When you wake up, you’ll know everything you need to know.”
“I don’t like the idea of corporate mucks running around in my head.”
Frank shrugged. “They already have. Why do you think you’re here? Now get your ass outside. Your ride will be here soon.” He reached down and hit a button underneath his desk.
“Now calling Number 1275.”
Chapter 2: Climbing Jacob’s Ladder
Flying over the city was a sight to behold. Kyle looked down on Crysanthea City. For the first time, he saw just how different the Corporate Sector was from the outer slums like River Run. The outer ring of the city was dirty, broken and patched up with cheap plaster and neon lights to distract the citizens from how worthless their lives really were. The break between these outer slums was so stark, that even though no wall existed between the two from the air, there was a noticeable boundary.
The streets were well lit. No graffiti could be seen, unless you counted the many subsidiary company logos that covered the buildings. Every light worked perfectly, and most visible was the lack of trash or junkies that normally sat on the steps.
As the drone car touched down with a gentle bump, Kyle reached for the door handle, but then noticed there wasn’t one. “You have reached Starlight LLC. Thank you for your patronage,” an obvious simulated female voice said over the speakers. The door automatically raised.
Kyle wasn’t even a mile away from his hovel in River Run, but the people here were so different they may as well have been from a different world. Men, women, they were all sculpted like works of art. They had perfect skin tone and no imperfections. Even their hair, as unnatural as some of the colors were, blended into their perfect bodies, as if it was augmented to grow that color. Then it dawned on Kyle. That was exactly what their bodies were doing.
Unlike the imperfect skins that were given to the newly printed, here in the Center, everyone could afford to buy their own perfectly tailored body with whatever implants or bio-graphs they wanted and it was seamless.
Kyle took in a deep breath. Even the air smelled cleaner. No car exhaust, no random smell seeping from some dark and dank alleyway, but instead, it was pure and clean, with the slightest hint of something sweet in the air. Its smell reminded him of an old orange grove from the days before the fall.
Kyle turned toward Starlight LLC headquarters. The triangular shaped building had a slight curve on the left side, which reminded Kyle of an abstract artist's design of a wave. The building was tall. Kyle guessed it was at least 70 stories, even though it was far from the tallest building in the sector.
“Mr. Watson?” A masculine voice caused Kyle to turn around. In front of him was a man, slender but muscular build, who stood at least five inches taller than him. He looked up and held out his hand as a greeting.
“Yes,” Kyle replied. The man reached forward and gave Kyle’s hand a tight squeeze that was only slightly painful, and shook it briefly. “My name is Sargent Vivos, Starlight Security. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Turning towards the building Vivos said, “Please follow me.”
Kyle was led into a bright lobby with decorative modern art built into the very room itself. Along the side, holographic images of various starships contracted out to Starlight LLC hovered around just every corner, from the cargo haulers, to the sleek and mean looking trade protection convoys that protected the outer rim miners and cargo haulers from pirates.
The room was large and lush as Kyle took a look around. Down a small escalator, a young man in a white lab coat approached. The man’s right eye had a bright light shining out of the pupil, but as far as Kyle could tell, if it wasn’t for that light, the approaching man would have no implants.
“Impressive isn’t it?” the man said, with a slight British accent.
Kyle looked around the room once more. “I got to say, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The man smiled, “No, I doubt it. Welcome to Starlight LLC, Mr. Watson. I am Doctor Argyros.”
The doctor looked over to the security man by Kyle’s side. “Thank you Sargent, we will take him from here.” Vivos didn’t nod, and took three steps back, allowing Kyle a bit more room to approach the doctor.
“What made you want to apply to Starlight?” the doctor asked, as he motioned for Kyle to follow.
“To be honest, the Employment Agency thought I’d be a good fit. I never heard of this project…” Kyle paused, hoping the doctor would fill in the blank, which he did.
“Project Odyssey. It’s my life’s work. Well, since I was printed,” the doctor said.
“According to your personal file, you were once a detective. I can see why you would be a good fit in this project.”
Kyle wasn’t sure how his former skills would be of any use, but he stayed silent. In investigations, the suspect usually let on more than they knew, if you would just stay quiet, so he fell back on this old skill.
“You see, if you make re-contact with one of the old worlds, or if you find some new civilization, your experience will be keen. You’ve been trained to tell when someone is lying to you, and you’ve got the experience to dig further into a situation if you think something is wrong. It is those skills that a good diplomatic core needs.”
“Like a spy?” Kyle asked, which caused the doctor to shake his head. “Spy is a harsh word, Starlight prefers the word Liaison.”
They continued through a hallway that was colored like a modern art masterpiece, with strange lines and squiggles that would have been considered trash if it had been made in any other point in history.
Kyle remained silent as the doctor continued.
“Don’t worry about making details about potential treaties or corporate contracts. When you get sent out, you’ll be sent with a Sales and Compliance Gram.” He held up an image of a beautiful woman with short brown hair down to her shoulders, with a slender frame, but with perfectly portioned curves. “This will be your gram, Ada. She is a molecular hologram, that can build herself with the molecules of the surrounding area. So yes, she can touch, and you can touch her as well.”
Kyle looked at the model and couldn’t help but think if he was single how he wouldn’t mind touching her quite a bit.
“She is programmed to make up for any deficiency that you may have. Her main limitation is that she can only hold her body together up to 90 feet away from the power disc.”
“What about logging?” Kyle asked.
“For that, we have a molecular repurposer, or MRR, for short. It’s a larger version of the same disc that ADA will use to power herself. It will convert the molecules in a room to a setting that you like. You’ll never have better furnishings. And of course, you’ll get a new skin.”
“What if I like my skin now?” Kyle asked.
“Then keep the look. It’s not your body that makes you who you are, but what is inside. If you want to keep the look, keep it, but it’s non-negotiable that you will be augmented with the implants needed to fulfill your mission.”
“And my mission?” Kyle asked.
“To do what Starlight LLC and Tyrol needs.” As the doctor finished speaking, the doctor stopped at a nondescript wooden door. Opening the handle, Kyle looked in and saw an empty room, minus a bed.
“All you need to do is lie down and your trip can begin.” Kyle knowing he was about to be uploaded from his body, turned towards the Doctor. “And this skin?”
“Don’t worry, it will be in cold storage, waiting for you to come back. And when you do, you will be able to afford any upgrade you want. Hell, you might even be able to afford a small apartment here in the center if you wish. All you have to do is lie down.”
Kyle closed his eyes for a second as he mulled it over. He knew it was his best chance to see his wife and son again. With the promised funds, heck, if this mission took long enough, he might be able to afford to get both of them back and get the experience to get a better job. Kyle sat down on the cold hard chair and leaned back.
“You could add a cushion,” Kyle quipped.
“We’ve been told that before.” Kyle closed his eyes and the world went black.
Tyrol Headquarters: In orbit
It was an exhilarating time as Nicholas looked out at the world below him. His first love was always ships. He loved their sleek designs, how the metal folded over itself. He loved how the engines gave the ship life, fueling electricity to the various systems, like how a human heart pumps the blood across the entire body.
“We are almost in range.” Crysanthea slipped around his waist. Over the edge of the planet, Nick saw a large round circle, one and a half miles in diameter floating between the planet, and the closest natural satellite in orbit. He took in a deep breath.
“It’s quite a marvel of engineering.” he said, as he reached down and lit a cigarette.
A green glow rippled from the edge of the circle, filling the inner void of the circle like a tsunami wave crashing on the shore. Nick lifted his right arm to activate a holographic display. Power regulator, radiation, safety systems all appeared to be in the green.
“If this works.” Nick said, “we will know if we are the only survivors or if others survived the catastrophe as well.”
Crysanthea leaned her head against his shoulder. “It will work,” she said. “We’ve run the numbers. The chances of everyone being gone is very low.”
“And if we are?” Nick asked, as he took a drag off his cigarette.
“We will still have this world, our creation.” Nick was quiet as he watched twenty four thin black ships launch from the surface toward the Circle.
Nick swiped his hand toward the right bringing up an image of one of the ships. “Recontact Probe and First Contact Drone Ship.” The title read, “One hundred feet long, with two extendable communications receivers and transmitters. Unmanned probe, contains forty eight microsatellites, and twenty four sensors and optical cameras. Cargo, two material Bio-printers with limited non biological reconstruction capabilities, and two construction drones. Powered by two, 2GW nuclear reactors, for a maximum thrust of 12G’s. No return ring or space fold drive.”
“It is a simple, but effective design,” he turned his attention back to his wife, “for a one way mission.”
She offered him a small smile. “It will work.”
Nick turned toward the circle in the distance. He watched as the twenty four ships slipped effortlessly into the circle. He turned and kissed his wife, gently touching the right side of her face.
“Thank you,” he told her.
“For what?” she asked.
He smiled. “For everything.”
She smiled back. “I love you too.”
OOC: If you wish to participate in this story, the probe will slip into real space like one minute it’s not there, the next it is. It will not attempt to make contact at first, but and it’s computers will activate once it enters real space. After it’s computer activates, it will unfold a large antenna and scan the system for any kind of communications, including radio signals, Lidar, and subspace communications. If it detects any sign of intelligent and advanced life, it will wait 48 hours as it tries to decipher what language the signals are in, and translate them if it has never heard the language before.
If you just want to blow one up as it enters your system, feel free. It has no shields or weapon systems to fire back, and it’s thrusters are not designed for evasion. No further probes will come if that one is destroyed.
