SHILOH

Shiloh has to take a second to gather herself as she enters back into the garage in Mechanical. Mostly because of the first thing she sees. As someone who was raised Christian, the eeriness of the image is not lost on her. The way the Ruster is suspended, arms spread apart, head lolling. Unconscious. The near-spitting image of the crucifixion itself, only rather than flesh and blood, there is wiring, metal, and strange, flesh-like, wetly lubricated organs, glistening in the green-ish light from the lamps overhead.

An ill omen, if there ever was such a thing. If Shiloh believed in them.

Liam is right behind her, carrying some of the gear. He starts setting stuff on and next to the open shelf toward the back of the room, near the door. He nods to Shiloh, then heads back out through the open door, likely to help with the Walker, or assist with other preparations. Shiloh hears the door slide shut just after he exits through it.

"Whoah," Cade says, suddenly next to Shiloh. His red hair takes on a chestnut sheen in the subtly green light. His eyes rove over the tethered, suspended Ruster. "That's kinda screwed up."

"It's a machine, Cade," Shiloh says, though she's not sure who she's trying to convince more: Cade, or herself. She's here to extract information, and she doubts getting sentimental about the specimen in front of them will be of much help. It'll just be more mental noise, on top of everything else.

"A machine that feels," Cade says, clearly not getting the memo. "Think about how much pain it must be in, right now. Gavin must have used the access points to open it up into some kind of repair mode, while it was still conscious. Can you imagine? It's been forced to retreat into itself. Some process has taken over, a way to protect its 'mind' from being destroyed by the pain."

He cocks his head, seeming to notice something. He steps around the table, facing something. A circular, hanging object, opposite the Ruster.

"Shiloh, I think maybe you should see this."

No. I can't. I already have so much to worry about.

But her legs are already moving, curiosity overriding the more rational part of her mind. She skirts around the table and stands next to Cade. She looks at him questioningly, but he just points.

The object. It's...a mirror. Specifically adjusted so the Ruster would be able to see himself. As if Gavin was trying to rub reality in the machine's face. Confront the Biodroid with its own very apparent lack of...human-ness.

More than that, it's as if Gavin wanted the captive to be doubly aware of its own predicament. The pain. The hopelessness.

Shiloh turns away, a strange lump forming in her throat.

"What?" Cade says. "You don't think this matters? You don't think something should be done about this? I get that humans and Rusters—we're not the same. But this-"

"Not yet, Cade," Shiloh says. She runs a hand through her hair. It's loose, and it's become messy and frayed. She rummages in the pockets of her overalls, searching for her hairband.

"Because it's Gavin?" Cade says, turning to look at her. "I've seen what he gets away with. Sometimes even in regards to you. And you put up with a lot. You always try to maintain the status quo, because you think it will keep people safe. At some point, you're going to have to take a risk, with him. If you can't stand up for yourself, then what can you do for the rest of us?"

Shiloh pauses, a hand in each pocket. Her hair is a messy curtain, dangling down over one half of her face.

"And here I thought you were quiet," she says.

"I stay quiet, most of the time," Cade says. His hands are in his pockets, as if to mimic Shiloh's own stance, in a placating sort of way. "People usually aren't interested in what I have to say; one of the reasons why I've been relegated to the closet with all the computers. You're the one who dragged me into this, though. I figure that gives me carte blanche to voice my concerns."

Shiloh's fingers close around the hairband, smushed underneath the walkie-talkie in her pocket. She pulls it out and begins working her hair back into a ponytail.

"Fair enough. But we need to focus up. We don't have much time. We need to get this stuff set up. And this place is going to get real crowded, real soon. We can talk about Gavin once we're past this."

Cade holds up his hands. "I never said I wanted to be a part of that. I'm just...you know. Saying."

"Duly noted," Shiloh says, winding the hairband around her tail. She's trying not to be conscious of the way Cade is looking at her. Almost like he's...judging her? Is he being frank with her out of actual concern, or is he trying to provoke a response? Is it like a test of some sort?

Knowing Cade, probably yes. Probably 'all of the above'.

"So let me just put this together," Cade says, turning back toward the Biodroid, "This guy is supposed to contain info on the southern facility. And if we can find that, supposedly, we can find technology which can be harnessed to terraform the desert. That's the story, isn't it?"

"It's not a story. It's the truth."

"It's part of the truth," Cade says, regarding her briefly before turning his gaze back to the man-like machine. "Your father always talked about reversing some of the ecological damage from the war, but there was an implicit understanding he wanted more than that, too. That the technology there could be used to fight back against the machines. But I can guess you didn't bring that up in your Board meeting."

Shiloh folds her arms, having just finished securing her hair behind her head. She wonders if she should lie. It's hard to believe Cade is digging for info with the purpose of reporting it to someone else, but it might be possible.

But Cade is astute and thoughtful for his age. His mind is sharp. His eyes are keen and penetrating. She can't shake the feeling that if she lies, he'll know. More than that, he'll remember. He has the look of a rebellious, indignant teenager, one who's been manipulated and lied to his whole life. He's sick of it.

But here she is, sifting through the pros and cons, weighing the merit of truth over a lie. Isn't truth an end, in and of itself? Doesn't truth justify itself? She sees no compelling reason to mislead Cade. It might be a risk, but isn't everything?

"Can't say it came up," Shiloh says. "You know how people are. The very idea of change is terrifying. The very concept that we could make things better, or return to some modicum of the way things were, is almost too much to swallow on its own. It's too much of a paradigm shift. Let alone actually fighting back, and making humanity free, again. One step at a time is about all I expect they can manage. If that. I basically had to drag them kicking and screaming this far."

Cade nods soberly. He swallows, and the sharp knob of his Adam's Apple bobs up and down.

"Good," he says. "I was hoping you'd say that. I'm ready for things to change too, Miss Darvin."

A moment of silence follows this. Not long, but awkward all the same.

"We should hurry," Shiloh says.

"Right. There isn't as much preparation as you might think," Cade says, glancing around. He indicates the electronics Liam brought over from storage, as well as the closed laptop next to them. "I mean, you've got it all, right here. These boxes sequence the data so it can be read by the computer. It's just a matter of cables connecting. For the setup, at least."

Shiloh knows all this, but she doesn't interrupt.

"Should be a connection port at the side of the neck," Cade says. "Just above the collarbone."

He grabs a wound-up cord, plugs one end into one of the boxes, and begins walking toward the suspended Biodroid, unraveling the cord as he goes. He stops for a second to snatch a tool off the shelf. It looks like a screwdriver, but the bit at the end has a complicated pattern to it, almost like a key.

He stops in front of the unconscious Biodroid, hesitating. For all either of them know, this could be some kind of trick. A trap. But then, if the machine is capable of breaking free, wouldn't it have done so already?

But the pause lasts little more than a brief second. Cade leans close to the Biodroid, examining the side of its neck. He prods a section just above the collarbone. There's a slight shift of a tiny metal plate, and a gap appears. Just wide enough for the key.

Cade pushes it in, until there's a click, and then a slightly larger opening appears, with a visible port.

"Voila," Cade says, so quiet it's almost a whisper.

He holds the end of the cable up to the port and pushes it in.

"There," he says.

Shiloh, watching from behind the table crammed with equipment, lets out a slow, tensely drawn breath. Part of her expected something to happen. Not necessarily something bad, but...something. But the Biodroid hasn't so much as twitched slightly. It appears to be trapped in some sort of stasis, still.

Shiloh turns her focus to the equipment. In order for this to work, the computer has to boot up with the right connections already in place. So, she connects both of the boxes via one of the cables. She uses another cord to connect one of the boxes to the laptop. She kneels down to plug in the boxes to the outlets under the table. By the time she stands up again, Cade has turned on the boxes, causing red and green lights to blink on the top. He makes adjustments to some knobs and levers on the front of each box.

"We should be good to run the PC," he says.

Shiloh opens the laptop and presses the power button in the corner. The screen lights up, and there's a loading screen. Should just take a second or two to boot up. Assuming something isn't wrong, and the computer doesn't decide to conk out, right at this moment.

But that's not gonna happen. I mean, probably not.

...is it?

As Shiloh watches the loading screen slowly fill up, the door to the garage slides open again, and a crowd of people start to shuffle through, their many shoes tapping and squeaking on the concrete floor, echoing off the walls. It's also hard to miss the clomp of thick-soled boots and the rattle of metal clasps as the Watch members file in.

"I assume this operation of yours is about to commence?" Callahan says, somewhere to Shiloh's right.

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"Any second now," Shiloh says, not taking her eyes off the screen.

The loading bar finally fills up, blinks twice, then disappears. The screen flickers, goes white.

Then, mercifully, the plain, grey desktop appears, littered with a dozen or so icons.

"I can take it from here, if you'd like," Cade says, scooting in next to her.

Shiloh scoots out of the way. This is the part she definitely cannot do. There are certain command prompts that have to go through just to get the process started, and she doesn't know a lick of code.

Cade presses three different buttons on the keyboard at once, bringing up a black window with a white blinking cursor in the corner. He types out a prompt, so fast Shiloh barely has time to read it, and executes it.

Scrolling lines of text flash across the screen. Eventually, the scrolling stops, and a white loading bar appears in the black window. As it loads, new lines of text appear and disappear, signifying various signposts of the process as it moves along.

For a while, Shiloh stares intently at the screen. But then a minute passes, and her eyes wander. She looks up at the stretched out, fastened Biodroid. His eyes are closed, his head drooped. He doesn't appear to have moved since this process started.

Her eyes drift again. Gavin is standing with his back to the door. He's almost facing Shiloh's direction more than the Biodroid itself. He flashes Shiloh a hard look, a look of despicability. And what can she do but return it with her own, unmasked expression of puzzled bewilderment? How can a man be so hateful and so unreasonable? So...self-absorbed? Shiloh wasn't the enemy. She was trying to save humanity. Gavin should be on her side.

But of course, he doesn't see it that way. The fact that she was right, and that she tried to save him and his men, makes her a threat to his ego, and thereby a threat to his entire identity.

He is the first to look away, the flames of spite still flickering in his eyes.

He's all bark and no bite. He has no power here anymore. Especially if it turns out Shiloh is right. The Board will have no choice but to support her goals, and so will Gavin. If he doesn't, he'll eventually be stripped of his position.

Shiloh glances over at Evelyn, who is positioned in the corner opposite the door. Their eyes meet. Evelyn's pensive expression seems to say, You better hope this is the right thing. You better hope you're right about this.

Shiloh does. She's all but certain that this is the right move. More than that, it may be their only chance. Her only chance.

"We're in," Cade says.

A new window appears, also with a black background, and new lines of white text scrolling into existence. After a page of information or so, everything comes to a stop, with just that white, flashing cursor.

Cade types in a couple lines of code. Press 'enter'.

Error messages appear. They start with 'ERROR:', followed by lines of bright red text.

"What is this?" Shiloh says, her heart feeling like it's trying to clamber its way up toward her throat.

"I'm not sure yet," Cade says. "I tried to access the memory unit. Something's stopping me. Hold on."

He executes a new command. There's another loading bar, shorter than before. Shiloh's eyes are locked to the screen the whole time.

More text.

Cade's eyes zip back and forth and he goes over it.

"Okay," he says, finally. "This is weird."

"What?" Shiloh says.

"It's not a matter of the memory being corrupted, or broken," Cade says. "There's a limitation that's been artificially imposed on the system. It's been...gated. That's the best way I can describe it. In fact, that's how the system itself designates it."

"...gates?"

"Look," Cade says, pointing at the diagnostic messages. "Each one of these paragraphs, right here, is talking about something called a 'Gate'. There's nine in total. There's some kind of condition which has to be met to unlock each one. I just don't know what. It's not clear."

"What's behind these Gates?" Shiloh says, as her heart beats faster. Have they reached a dead-end? "What do they unlock?"

"Memories," Cade says, running one hand through his hair. "The memory unit itself. And...other things, probably. It's hard to say. This Biodroid has been tampered with, though. I can tell you that. According to this, something external did something to the system yesterday, and it kick-started some kind of routine. Some data got fed into the system, leading to more procedures, and...well...this happened."

"That doesn't seem possible," Callahan chips in, sounding just as perplexed as Shiloh feels. "If that were true-"

"We could wirelessly override any Biodroid we wanted to, at any point," Cade says. His eyes look glassy for a moment, contemplating the possibilities. Then, he seems to come back to himself. "Unfortunately, in this case, the package went through by using some pre-existing security loophole. It activated a payload that was already loaded into the system."

"Meaning?" Shiloh says.

"Going off of what I'm seeing here," Cade says, "This Biodroid was in stasis for a long time, before it woke up yesterday. A real long time. And my guess is, shortly before, or shortly after he was put under, someone installed that payload. Knowing it could be used to wake the Biodroid up, and do all this other stuff to it, somewhere down the line. What we don't know, is why."

This earns a moment of eerie quiet in the room. Even the Reverend resists pitching in to fill the silence with his own biblically-based maxims. Or perhaps he just doesn't want to.

Whatever data is hiding away in the memory, the machines must be after it. And Shiloh can't be the only one thinking that.

"So..." Shiloh says. "There's no way in?"

"Not with these tools," Cade says, shaking his head. "Some of the memory is there, obviously. He remembers waking up and leaving the facility, according to what he told you. It's in there. He can access it. But we can't."

Shiloh raps her fingers on the table. Her heart is beating a mile a minute. Her chance is slipping away. The opportunity to finish her father's work, her father's dream. Instead, she'll be trapped here, in the Cloister, for the rest of her life. She'll grow old, like Evelyn. And like Evelyn, she'll forget. She'll succumb to this life, become firmly accustomed to it. The dream will die, and it will be as if her father has died, all over again. A second death.

And the world will die again, too, won't it? A second apocalypse. The real apocalypse. All while Shiloh grows old, and her hair turns thin and grey. She will have her own little living space, like Evelyn, with her books, and her mementos. She will read old books, and stare at old pictures, and try to imagine—unsuccessfully—what it was really like to live in the time of her ancestors. What it used to mean to be a human being. A time will come when she can no longer imagine the old world, and doesn't want to. She sees that capacity, that inevitability, in herself. In everyone.

Unless…

An idea percolates in her mind. Bubbling. Rising to the surface.

Her heart stops. Does a double-backflip.

She puts a hand on Cade’s shoulder. The contact makes him jump, a little. He glances at her over his shoulder.

“What if I were to Jack In? Could I see?”

“I-” Cade's voice catches, like he's afraid to go on. “In theory, you could. You would have direct access, if it worked. You would be bypassing the security measures. But Shiloh-"

"I could use one of the boxes," she says, leaning toward the one hooked directly into the laptop. "That way, you could monitor the data with the computer, still-"

"Yeah, but this is all theoretical," Cade says, holding up a hand in objection. "Will your Jacking tech work? Probably. But we just don't know what it'll do. We don't know what will happen-"

But for Shiloh, the time for deliberation is over. Years over.

She pulls back the collar of her jumpsuit at the left side of her neck. She finds the Jacktech with her fingers, the cold prong of metal, and pulls.

It's always a strange sensation. The purr of the cable, coiled somewhere in her upper chest, running up the inside of her neck. A vibratory hum inside her body. A ticklish, hollow feeling.

Sometimes, Shiloh wonders if this is the real reason for her and her father's estrangement from the rest of the Cloister. Or maybe it was just one of the straws that would one day break the camel's back.

She was young when it happened. She'd been playing 'First to the Top', in the Cargo Bay, when she fell over the side of one of the rails. Broke her neck in the fall.

Her father performed an emergency surgery, with the help of some of the resident medical experts. Part of the key to her survival was Darvin's expertise in regards to Biodroid-related technology. Jacktech was originally designed for certain Biodroid models, but Darvin used the parts to stabilize her neck and collarbone, not only saving her, but allowing her to continue to live a healthy, normal life.

Well, somewhat normal.

As part of the insertion process, the Jacktech had to be attached to the spinal column itself. Some of the medical staff believed there might be some ill effects because of this. What no one had expected—perhaps not even Darvin himself—was that Shiloh would actually be able to use the Jacktech.

There's an uncomfortable reality, one that the people of the Cloister seem to spend a lot of time and energy trying to avoid. There are a lot of similarities between humans and Biodroids, anatomically and otherwise. Humans are, after all, the blueprint on which the Biodroid models were based. The intention, it seems, was to create something human, but more.

On the reverse side of things, post-surgery, some of Shiloh's neighbors and friends came to see her as something human, but also slightly less than human. She was a discomforting reminder of just how thin and grey the line is between man and machine. Even now, she's a walking contradiction of the teachings propagated by the community, the deep-rooted beliefs. To them, she is certainly a person. She's Shiloh. But she's also different. At the end of the day, she is not one of them.

She;'s always resented that fact. Always wished things could have been different. But what if there's a point, to all of it? What if the reason she fell and nearly died, all those years ago, was so that at this very moment, she can now do what no one else can?

"Can I plug into this box, or not? It's this one, right?"

Cade grimaces. The look in his eyes isn't 'yes', but it's not a denial either.

The Jacktech end she holds in her fingers looks almost like an audio jack. There's a round, quarter-inch-width port in the side of the box. Shiloh leans forward, reaching with the Jacktech.

Sudden resistance. A hand gripping her shoulder, fingers digging into the flesh of her upper arm. Shiloh is turned violently sideways, to face Evelyn, with a surprising level of physical strength.

"Don't," Evelyn says. Passionate. Terrified. Pleading. "This is too far, Shiloh. I've entertained this for too long, already. You showed up. You tried. But at some point, you've got to let it go."

"No." Shiloh feels the word leave her lips, as if of its own volition, before she's even fully thought it through. But that's why she trusts it. It is her answer. Flat. Curt. Sincere. Unbridled. "No."

She waits, expecting others to join Evelyn in her objection. It is the way of the world. The way of people. The will of the many, over the few. They always know what's best, don't they? What your life should be. If only the few would listen, and obey.

But Shiloh doesn't intend for that to happen. Not today. Not if she can help it.

The room is silent. But it is a violent sort of silence. Brimming with conflict, expectation. But whatever the others must think(from the Reverend, to Callahan, to the Watch themselves), they refuse to speak. They only watch her, wide-eyed. Perhaps because most of them, in the end, don't much care what she does. Whatever happens to her, it will have been her decisions which brought it about. Her responsibility. Not theirs.

Maybe it will work. If it does, and Shiloh is able to use her brain to integrate with a Biodroid's systems, it will be a success. But she'll be a freak too, won't she? She'll be alienated from her people to an even greater degree than before. They will never, ever see her the same again. More than despising her, they will fear her, for what she can do, and what she represents.

If she fails...well, a number of things could happen. Maybe Jacking In doesn't work at all. Or maybe it does, but maybe she gets zapped by some security measure, or runs into an incompatibility issue. What happens then? Nothing, except a forceful ejection, or some damage to the Jacktech itself? Brain-damage? Does she end up comatose because of this? She's in uncharted territory. Anything is possible.

Another hand presses against one of Shiloh's shoulders. It's Cade. But before Shiloh can protest, he puts his other hand on Evelyn's shoulder.

"It's her choice, Evelyn."

"Like hell it is," Evelyn says, spit flying. "I'm as much a member of the Board as she is. If she-"

"Evelyn," Callahan says calmly, interposing. "Let her go."

Evelyn takes a breath. Looks around. Seems to realize she's alone in this. There's no one backing her. Just a quiet room of people, scared as they are fascinated. Disturbed by the proceedings, but not yet willing to interrupt them. Even Gavin, in this moment, does little more than avert his eyes when Shiloh glances his way.

Yes. They'll use Shiloh. They'll take as much as she can give. Even if they try to punish her for it later. They will take advantage of her results, and despise her for the methods of achieving those results. But that's just the way of things.

"Please," Evelyn says, quietly now, as if to match the energy of the rest of the room. "Don't do this. Don't fall prey to your father's dream, the way others have before you."

"No," Shiloh says, for the third time. Just as flatly as before. But there is a finality to it. A certainty. A steadfastness. There is no room for argument.

Evelyn's face falls. Her body sags. Her eyes grow dark. The pressure on Shiloh's arm dissipates as the old woman slowly retracts her hand.

"Fine," she says, her voice hushed, tired. "Then I truly am powerless. I will watch the cycle repeat itself, until I am finally dead and gone. I suppose that is my lot."

Evelyn steps aside. But then her hand brushes Shiloh's arm, again.

"I do love and care for you, Shiloh. I always have. And I hope you succeed. I hope you come out the other side of this. I hope...all is well."

"It will be," Shiloh says, covering Evelyn's cold, weathered hand with her own.

There's the slightest twitch of a smile from Evelyn. But her eyes are glassy and cold. Her tiny hand slips free from Shiloh's grasp as Evelyn disengages from what's about to him. In her mind, perhaps she's already working through how to pick up the pieces.

"It's ready," Cade says, in front of the laptop, looking at her over his shoulder. "Whenever you are. If...this is really what you want to do."

"It is."

The fibrous cable coating sounds and feels a little funny, reverberating inside her collarbone and neck as she lengthens the cord, pulling it out through the slot. She holds the end of it up to the port in the box. No more waiting, wondering, and yearning. No hesitating.

As the metal piece touches the port, a zap of electricity travels up the length of the cable and into her body, jolting her, making her taste metal on her tongue, and giving her pause. But it's too late to stop now.

She pushes the piece home. She Jacks In.