Shattered Exile

NINE Confrontation-2

‘Callum, are you there?’

‘I haven’t left the hab again – assuming that’s what you’re wondering.’ he replied, unenthusiastically.

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Was that...an attempt at remorse?’

‘Look, I know you’re still pissed with me, but...none of that matters now.’

‘Of course it matters!’

‘No...it really doesn’t. I’ve found something, and--’

Despite the poor quality of their communications, he detected a change in the tone of Trix’s voice; the habitual sound of the software developer’s monotone vocals now exhibited a dread-like tone.

‘What have you found?’

‘Meet me on level thirty-two, sector eighty-four.’

‘What is it?’

‘Just come – you need to see this for yourself.’

Using Mr L. Cameron’s security credentials, he accessed the Infonet’s main lobby once more, this time ascending to barrier thirty-two. The holographic access panel grew once more, expanding around him, as he breached another of the Infonet’s lofty barriers unchallenged. His virtual surroundings stretched out before him, affording him a better view of the digital landscape, moreover the sea of data streams alongside which he now swam – figuratively speaking. He navigated his way to sector eighty-four, his interest piqued by the foreboding tone of Trix’s request. The sector itself was vast, appearing to be some kind of digital archive – a virtual graveyard for discarded information, which humanity was not yet prepared to delete indefinitely. Instead, the historic data had been neatly recorded, catalogued and filed amongst the virtual shelves of the seemingly endless sector.

‘What is this – some kind of massive data library?’

‘That’s exactly what it is.

‘So what am I looking for, specifically?’

‘Peacekeeper engagements.’

‘I thought the priority was to reverse engineer the bio-key tracking software?’ he replied, with a hint of agitation.

‘It was – I mean, it is. I was waiting for some code to decompile, and found this place.’

‘Let me get this straight. You have a go at me for wandering, yet you are guilty of the same crime!’

‘Your risk of exposure was significantly higher than my own.’

‘Irrelevant.’

There was a brief moment of silence whilst Trix considered the ironic use of his own words, now used against him. Typically, he was loath to engage in petty bickering, but recent events had chipped away incessantly at the outer layer of his very being, exposing beneath a torrent of raw emotions, no longer held in check.

‘Look for the data stream titled “Exodus”.’ said Trix, ultimately deciding it best to ignore his retort.

Rifling through the alphabetically catalogued data streams, he identified the one marked Exodus and proceeded to analyse the data. There were countless data feeds, including mass transcriptions, relevant legislation and video feeds. The amount of data contained within the stream was overwhelming.

‘Check the video – the government has been recording feeds from Peacekeeper operations.’

‘What! You mean all Peacekeeper activities?’

‘So it would seem, given the quantity of data present. I’m sending you a time index.’

A fresh data object appeared before him, containing the time index Trix proclaimed to be of particular importance. Using the information, he quickly navigated his way to the designated time index, and immediately began playback of the specified video feed.

A barren wasteland stretched out before him, towards the horizon with its ruddy sky. Littering the blasted landscape were the remains of numerous structures, now little more than unrecognisable ruins, poking out of the scorched cracked earth. The ground was visibly hard, scoured clean of vegetation, and appeared utterly devoid of life. The empty scene unfolding before him suggested that he was observing the surface of a dead planet, home perhaps to a once great civilization. Suddenly the desolate view panned down and to the right, it was then that he realised he was witnessing events through the eyes of another. His unknown host had turned their attention towards the instruments in their current mode of transport. Based on the configuration of the cockpit, he appeared to be on board an armoured Peacekeeper transport. The view panned upwards, confirming his suspicion; a column of windowless boxy carriages, escorted by lightly armoured transports flanking the main procession, extended before him. Light from the distant sun glinted off the carriages, which cut a direct path towards an ominous dark line stretched out horizontally across the landscape, just short of the horizon. He sped up the video feed’s playback by sixty percent, watching with interest as the dark line morphed into a shadow as it drew ever closer. What was once a line continued to grow in depth, until finally revealing its true nature; they were heading towards a large crack in the landscape, which had widened considerably, essentially forming a ravine. He reduced the playback speed to ten percent of its original pace, watching intently as the carriages lined up neatly alongside the drop, ensuring ample space between them, whilst the escorts spread out to form a protective perimeter. Scores of Peacekeepers promptly exited from both the carriage cockpits and armoured transports, with the latter contingent quickly taking up defensive positions against an invisible assailant. Those exiting the carriages hurriedly stationed themselves around the back of their vehicles, targeting the rear doors eagerly with their weapons. The thick metal barriers flung open abruptly, in unison, disgorging additional Peacekeepers, each armed with a shock rifle or other such heinous weapon – which he keenly recognised. Satisfied that there was no immediate threat to their operation, the Peacekeepers closest to the carriages shouldered their weapons and began unloading the contents of the carriages. Groups of Peacekeepers, working in pairs, pulled numerous black sacks from the mobile containers. They manhandled the sacks, tossing them onto the hard floor alongside one another, close to the edge of the ravine, to form a ragged black line. Two of the Peacekeepers, stationed at either end of the developing line, pulled curious devices from their packs and began scanning each of the sacks in turn. Occasionally they would direct their hand towards a given sack, prompting those closest to fire stun rounds into the identified targets. After the process was complete, there seemed to be a momentary lull in their operation. Although the video feed included audio, this amounted to little more than ambient background noise. He assumed, therefore, that the Peacekeepers received their orders via a neural interface, or perhaps courtesy of some other means not captured within the feed – that, or the communications data had been redacted. Either way, he could not discern the reason for the curious delay, until suddenly, the obvious dawned on him.

‘I can’t watch this!’ he said, pausing the feed abruptly.

‘Callum, you have to!’

‘No good can come of this.’

‘Damn it Callum, this is our history! You must bear witness to this, as I did – this crime cannot pass unremembered!’

‘This is last rites stuff – you cannot make we watch it!’

‘Actually...I can.’

Without any intervention on his part, the video feed resumed suddenly. The Peacekeepers approached the line, and immediately began pushing the black sacks over the edge of the precipice with their heavy booted feet.

One by one, the sacks fell into oblivion, swallowed whole by the unforgiving ravine, consumed by its gluttonous appetite. Unable to tear his sight from the images unfolding before him, he felt nauseous, and his stomach churned violently whilst the atrocity played out before him.

‘Turn it off!’ he said, overcoming his momentary paralysis. ‘Turn the f*****g thing off!’

He turned his back to the access panel and ran towards the bedroom window, desperate to fill his lungs with fresh air in a futile attempt to quell his unease. Unable to keep the contents of his stomach in check, he retched over the sill before backing up awkwardly, partially hunched over. Lifting his head, he stared vacantly at the vomit splattered across the wall beneath the window. Distracted by the heinous images, now fresh in his mind, he was only dimly aware of the meagre former contents of his stomach, which now trickled slowly towards the floor. As his mind began to process the images he had just seen, his initial shock and disbelief rapidly dissipated, giving way to something far darker.

‘Why?!’

‘Because we’re nothing more than vermin to them; society’s cancer, best cut out and destroyed.’

‘But these are people, Austin – how can we do this to ourselves?!’

‘Callum, you already know the answer to that question. It’s the nature of humanity: class, wealth, influence, religion, race – time and again, we find ways to differentiate ourselves.’

He stood upright and closed his eyes, seeking to regain some of his composure. He tried to suppress the rising anger and hatred inside of him, but the raw dark emotions refused to be quelled. He could hear himself breathing more heavily with each passing breath, as violent thoughts assaulted in his mind.

‘This changes everything! How can we live amongst these people, knowing the atrocities they have committed against our kin?’

There was no immediate answer from Trix, just the software engineer’s familiar laboured breathing – due to Trix’s obvious lack of personal fitness. Trix was not built to gallivant around the metropolis, thus even the smallest increase in the hacker’s heart rate was easily discerned.

‘Again, you already know the answer to that question – we cannot!’