I've seen the core strings of men's souls as I held them in my hands, stared into the flash of a Big Bang as it futilely attempted to be born yet again, touched souls still screaming in rage and agony as phasic shades rose up from cables full of lives that had been lost but still screamed.
Nowhere did I find the code or DNA or signifiers of evil, like so many claim can be easily found.
But after standing in the presence of merciless evil, I have seen it. Not evil. But Evil.
And I did not need eyes to see it terrible form. - Blue Herod-38442, A Soul is Worth Fighting For - Memoir of the Afterlife War, Smokey Cone Press, 8615 PG
Green Flowerpatch-558234 stared at Herod, Robbie standing next to her. The other Digital Sentience, a particle theorist over four hundred years old, no longer was made of swirling, streaming code. He no longer appeared as he had to Flowerpatch, the 'distinguished professor' look gone.
Herod was dressed in heavy leather boots, worn and creased denim pants held up by a thick leather belt with a wide oval brass buckle, a fleece lined denim jacket, a flannel shirt, and a moo moo tender hat. His face was creased with lines, his eyes were squinted, and he looked like he needed to shave three days ago.
Flowerpatch could tell he wasn't projecting a holographic image.
That some how, some way, Herod had manifested into an actual biological body.
Strangely enough, he was sitting in a chair at the work station that was trying to understand how the mat-trans system worked, with a Treana'ad cigarette in one hand and a nacrobrew in the other.
"Hey, patch," Herod said.
Flowerpatch noticed his voice was rough, low pitched, almost a gravelly whisper.
"Herod?" she asked.
"In the flesh," the former digital sentience said, giving a low grinding chuckle.
Flowerpatch opened her mouth to ask a question when the sirens kicked on. Rotating lights began to spin, spilling flashes of red across the room.
"WARNING! INCOMING MAT-TRANS! SOURCE UNKNOWN!" the PA system roared.
The canine cried out in pain and covered his floppy ears with his paw-hands.
Herod reached out and tapped a few keys.
The PA system cut off with the siren and the lights went dark and still.
The hexagonal chamber was humming.
"Who... who is it?" Flowerpatch asked.
Herod shrugged. "Don't know. Might be someone coming to haul me back. All you have to do to follow someone is hit the Last Destination key or menu select," he said. He took a drag and exhaled smoke, tilting his head slightly, his right hand dropping to his waist.
Flowerpatch realized with a shock that the other digital sentience was carrying a heavy magnetic accelerator pistol that was inlaid with exotic metals set into the graven warsteel.
The computer beeped and Flowerpatch saw Herod's thumb undo the snap holding the pistol into the holster.
The door swung open and a ridiculous little robot rolled out on worn, clattering tracks. It had a boxy body, small extendible arms with graspers, and a little head that was mostly lenses. It played a merry tune as it raced up toward Herod.
Flowerpatch gasped and put herself between the robot, which was reaching forward and clacking its graspers, and Robbie, who had drawn back.
Herod let go of the pistol, bending down and reaching out.
Flowerpatch stared as the two hugged. The robot back up, beeping a merry tune.
"It's good to see you too, buddy," Herod said. He sighed and slumped slightly in the chair, reaching down to resnap the holster before picking up the bottle of narcobrew.
"You know this robot?" Flowerpatch asked. She frowned. "He's very crude."
"You show him respect, Patch," Herod growled. "For six hundred years he was my only friend."
Flowerpatch moved over and sat down, confusion filling her. "Six hundred years? You've only been gone four years."
"Maybe for you," Herod said in an oddly pitched voice. He looked at Flowerpatch, who was letting the canine uplift sit in her lap and rest his head on her shoulder. "Nothing? No," he sighed again. "I'm old."
"Well, you were four hundred years old," she said. "Late middle age, early old age for digital sentiences."
Herod nodded. "That was when I started," he sighed and took a swig off the beer. "A long time ago."
The door opened and Flowerpatch saw Herod drop the bottle, his hand flashing down to the pistol, unsnapping the retaining strap, and drawing it an inch out of the holster. The little robot backed up, its tracks clattering, and it waved its claws around before holding them out in front of it as if it was going to be attacked.
Cherubic Torture-82674, Vanishing Point-333382, System Duplicate-736721, and Crimson Sunrise-826431all stood in the doorway, clustered up in the hallway, their holograms overlapping each other.
"Herod?" Torturer asked.
"You all look stupid," Herod said, sliding the pistol back into the holster. He bent down and picked up the bottle, saw it was full of foam, and gave a long suffering sigh. He dropped the cigarette in the bottle with a hiss, then finished by tossing the foam filled container in the garbage.
"What? Where have you been? When did you get back? How did you get back? Where is Legion? Where is Sam? What is happening?" all overlaid one another as they all spoke at once.
Flowerpatch watched as Herod reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled free a cold narcobrew while the others babbled. She frowned, noticing the pocket had contained nothing before he reached into the pocket and still looked empty.
"One at a time," Herod said. He closed his eyes and gave a heaving sigh. "It's been a long time."
"How long?" Torturer asked.
"I've been gone about six hundred years," Herod said.
"Wait, you were four hundred years old the last time we saw you, that's pretty much elderly, no way you lived another six hundred years," Vanishing Point stated. "Your core strings would have unraveled."
Herod just shrugged. "Don't know what to tell you," the DS said. He took a swig off the bottle. "What does it matter where my body happens to be, Alice?” he said. “My mind goes on working all the same.‘”
"Alice?" System asked, looking around. "Who's Alice?"
"Never mind. I met the Red Queen, though," Herod said. He took another drink.
"You're talking about a pre-Glassing fictional work, correct?" Flowerpatch asked. She patted the uplifted canine's head. "I read Robbie that a month or so ago."
"I liked that story, mommy, it was funny," the canine said.
Flowerpatch smiled and just patted his head.
"Not exactly," Herod said. He pulled out a metal flint and steel mechanical lighter and a pack of Treana'ad cigarettes that were battered and rumpled.
Flowerpatch could see an engraving on the lighter.
03 FEB 1943 - LOS ALAMOS BOYS RANCH SCHOOL STAFF RECRUITMENT DRIVE
That made her frown. The steel was strange, she could sense it. A lot of impurities, radiation exposure that left it with a slightly higher than background radiation count.
"Smoking and drinking, Herod? Are you like Flowerpatch now?" Crimson asked as Herod lit a cigarette.
"Not exactly," Herod said around the cigarette. He looked at the boxy little robot, which was leaning against Herod and holding onto his leg. "If I would have known they'd be like this, I would have just stayed in Atlantis instead of coming here."
The robot beeped.
"Atlantis isn't real. It's an old Terran myth," Vanishing Point said.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
"Oh, I assure you," Herod said. He grinned without any mirth, exhaling smoke through his teeth and tilting his head so the brim of his moomoo tender hat shaded his eyes. "Atlantis is very very real."
"Where's Sam?" Vanishing Point asked. The DS pointed at the mat-trans. "Will he be coming through next?"
Herod's smile vanished. "He won't be coming."
"Why not?" Torturer asked.
Herod set the bottle down, and looked up at Torturer, who was standing in front of him.
"This is why," Herod said. He dropped his arm down, Flowerpatch saw him twist his wrist, and he brought his hand up.
A long thin bladed knife, a square blade sharpened on each corner, was in his hand, the wooden handle gripped tightly.
Everyone gasped and stepped back.
They could all sense the digital strands and codes on the blade.
The canine tried to shield Flowerpatch with his body.
"Shh, he's not going to hurt me or you," Flowerpatch said quietly into Robbie's ear.
"You... you killed him?" Crimson asked.
Herod nodded, lifting up his arm and letting go of the knife. It vanished into his sleeve and Flowerpatch heard a slight click.
"He gave me no choice," Herod said.
"There's always a choice," Vanishing Point said.
Herod just shrugged, picking up the beer and standing up. "My head's cleared up enough."
He moved over to the console and clicked a few times. He looked over at the small robot.
"Ready, Wally?" he asked.
The robot gave a slightly apprehensive beep but still rolled up next to Herod. Herod polished off the narcobrew and set the bottle down with a quiet click.
"No, we're going to take the shuttle," Herod said. He chuckled. "And here I think a twenty-minute ride on the monorail was long," he looked down. "Remember when we went from Alpha Layer to Iota Layer? That only took, what, a year?"
The robot beeped as it followed Herod.
Flowerpatch noticed he didn't ask them to move, he just walked straight into them, causing the DS's to scatter from around him.
She noticed he had a slight limp.
"Herod, wait. Me and Robbie will ride with you," she said, hustling after him.
"I'd like that," Herod said.
She was silent as Herod walked through the hallways with quick, assured steps. He stopped at the monorail platform and then looked at Flowerpatch.
"What were you doing here? Who else is using the Lunar Particle Hyperaccellator System?" he asked.
Flowerpatch shrugged. "I showed up, looking for any notes you might have left behind four years ago."
"I didn't," Herod said. He moved up to the doors, which whooshed open. He paused for a second and looked down at the robot. "You know, Wally, I half expected to see her sitting there."
The robot beeped.
"See who sitting there?" Flowerpatch asked, following him in.
"Long story," Herod said, sitting down.
The robot moved over to between Herod's feet.
The monorail started moving smoothly right after Flowerpatch and Robbie sat down.
There was silence for long minutes until Flowerpatch couldn't hold it in any more.
"Where have you been, Herod?" She asked.
"The SUDS itself. Not the system, the facility," Herod said. He shuddered and reached into his pocket, pulling out another narcobrew, taking a drink off of it, then lit a cigarette.
"Really, Herod? Smoking and drinking?" Flowerpatch asked.
"All of that you could forgive," Herod said. "But pastels, really?"
Flowerpatch frowned.
"Nevermind," Herod sighed. His shoulders slumped. "I've been there and back again and now I am spread thin like too little butter on too much toast."
"I recognize that literary reference," Flowerpatch said. "The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit."
"Bilbo," the uplifted canine said.
Herod nodded. "Very good."
The canine beamed with pleasure.
"So, you and Sam made it to the SUDS?" Flowerpatch asked.
"Most of us did, anyway," Herod said. He took a long drink and raised an eyebrow at Flowerpatch's frown while the bottle was still upended. He lowered it, wiped his mouth, and stared at Flowerpatch for a long moment.
The lines on his face, the squint, the way his moo moo tender hat shadowed his eyes, all made Flowerpatch nervous in a strange way.
"They help with the shakes and the headaches," Herod said after taking a drag off the cigarette.
"Why did you appear in the Lunar Particle Hyperaccellator System mat-trans?" Flowerpatch asked.
Herod tapped the bottle on his leg for a moment. "Because it's the mat-trans I used to use to move between the particle accelerator facilities that Dhruv built for me. I knew the codes. This one has a monorail, somehow, back to the Black Box. The others, I'd have to do another jump."
He sighed.
"And I'm really really tired of making mat-trans jumps," he said. He looked out the window. "I can feel her in there. She's not really gone. She's still in the system, watching, judging, waiting."
"Who?" Flowerpatch asked.
"Madness. Psychopathy," he shuddered again. "Humanity's sins made manifest."
Flowerpatch shook her head. "Herod, you're not making sense."
"She doesn't have a name. Just a title," Herod said. "The Detainee."
"Wait, you've met her?" Flowerpatch asked.
Herod nodded then cocked his head and slightly squinted one eye as he looked at her. "You know of her."
"Everyone does. The Trial of General Trucker was on every channel for a month. The Detainee, the Lady Lord of Hell, was the prosecution in his trial for war crimes and crimes against sentience and sapience," Flowerpatch said. "Everyone knows of her."
Herod looked away. "Yeah, well, I met her before she took the throne to rule in Hell. What you saw and what I met are two different things," He tapped his fingers against the side of the bottle, then took a drink, still staring out the window at the tunnel as the lights on the walls flashed by. "What you saw, what you know, is a pale shadow of the reality."
Flowerpatch sat silently, comforting Robbie, who had started whining in anxiety as Herod spoke.
After he was done speaking he just stared out the window until the monorail pulled into the station.
"I'd stay here for a minute," Herod said. He looked down at the boxy little robot. "You too."
The robot beeped unhappily but stayed put. Flowerpatch watched him walk out, through the door, and through the detectors just outside the door.
The train doors slammed shut, a battlescreen came up between the monorail cars and the station, and sirens cut on.
Herod raised up his arms.
The door on the far side slid open and Flowerpatch gasped as two massive black and dark gray wolves bounded in, growling, sliding to a stop and standing up.
"Blue Herod-38442," He stated, following it with his access codes and personal encryption key.
The wolves blurred and two Confederate Scientific Intelligence Agents stood in the room in front of Herod, their clothing perfect.
One stepped forward, her face confused. "I sense the touch of our Digital Father upon your flesh."
Herod nodded. He held out a hand. "He took my hand at one point."
The two moved forward and touched his hand, an awed expression on their faces. They looked up at him.
"Welcome home, elder brother," they both said in unison.
"I need a medical check, some food, and a rest," Herod said.
They nodded. Both turned away, touching their left ears.
The battlescreens dropped and the door unlocked.
"That was scary, mommy," Robbie said.
"It's OK. Come on," Flowerpatch said.
She stared at Herod.
She couldn't wait to get him into a medical scan.
-----
Vanishing Point sat down, waiting patiently with the other senior staff and researchers. Flowerpoint came in, dressed in a doctor's scrubs, and sat down at the head of the table. She tapped it and a DNA helix appeared.
"I confirmed it three times," she started, without any preamble. "It's Pre-Glassing DNA based off of a modern polyrithmic asymmetrical core code string to DNA translator bridge normally used in digital to biological in vitro fertilization techniques," she said.
"Where would they get that kind of stuff?" Crimson asked.
Flowerpatch gave him a look normally reduced for people who ask how to breathe in and out.
"Legion was there. You know, that guy who has pretty much mastered the DNA strand and could probably build a human out of some stray acids he found in a flask in a lab?" Torturer said.
"How is he?" Torturer asked, turning away from the blushing Crimson.
"Tired. He's got minor exhaustion. He had an elevated blood alcohol level of 0.0426 and a low nicotine level, but other than that, he's in good health," Flowerpatch said. "Physically, he's a pre-Glassing Terran male in his mid thirties with some high stress indicators and some physical alterations that I don't know if they're baseline pre-Glassing human or not."
"What about the gray hair and the lines on his face and weird darker patches on his skin?" Crimson asked.
"Exposure to harsh UV rays caused increased melanin on his face, back of his neck, hands, and forearms as well as having caused lines in the flesh of his face," she said. "The gray in his head hair and facial hair is from stress."
"That's an old myth," Vanishing Point said.
"Oh, well, by all means, Doctor Vanishing Point, you tell me," Flowerpatch snapped, irritation welling up. "Because that's the only cause I can find, and pre-Glassing Terrans did develop gray hair from stress as it caused the follicle to stop producing coloration via melanocytes of the hair strands."
Vanishing Point looked away.
"He's developed alcohol and cigarette dependencies as well as heightened alertness, violent reactions to perceived threats, tremors in the fingers," Flowerpatch said. "Everything that the old records attribute to long term stress."
Torturer nodded. "And his claim of six hundred years going by?"
Flowerpatch nodded. "Cerebral scan is a mess. It looks like he started suffering mass memory indexing collation failures as well as Resartus Protocol issues at one point," she said, referring to a protocol that would yank a digital sentience out of a thought pattern feedback loop. "It looks like, at some time, someone modified his memory system, the memory access system at least, to remove the worst of the memory indexing connection failures," she grimaced. "It looks like it was done with a hatchet."
"Who?" Vanishing Point asked.
Flowerpatch shrugged. "Unknown."
"Could he have survived six hundred years?" Torturer asked.
"He was undoubtably showing instability at the end, even with the indexing system reconfiguration," she said. She took a deep breath. "Then it gets hard to accept."
"What?" Torturer asked.
"According to Herod, Sam-UL, who had turned into a Screaming One due to memory indexing failures when exposed to Screaming One and Phasic Shade SUD record exposure, went to kill Herod but he escaped," Flowerpatch said. "Doing so dropped him into the lap of The Detainee. Things get a bit confused, but then he encountered the Digital Omnimessiah, the majority of the Apostles, then assaulted the SUDS system to kill or free Sam-UL."
Everyone just stared.
"I did a memory scan. Someone has encrypted his memories, so he no longer has instantaneous access to his memory, but some of the things I saw in there," she shuddered. "He apparently interacted with the Terran woman who became The Detainee before she was digitized and put in place as the Lady Lord of Hell."
Low murmurs of disbelief moved through the room.
The door opened and beeping pulled everyone's attention.
Herod stood in the doorway, wearing the same clothing as he had been, right down to the belt, the cigarette in one hand, and the narcobrew in the other.
"Discussing whether or not I'm a crazy person?" he asked, stepping into the room then leaning against the wall right next to the door.
Flowerpatch noted it put a waste basket at his feet.
"We're... being briefed on your condition," Torturer said.
"Huh," Herod said, taking a drink of the beer. He wiped his mouth. "By all means, don't let me disturb you."
"I was basically done," Flowerpatch admitted.
"So what happened to Sam-UL?" Crimson asked.
Herod shrugged. "He forced me to kill him. I had no choice."
"There's always a choice," Vanishing Point said.
Herod chuckled. "Yeah, easy to say, I guess," he shook his head. "Sam-UL was in nearly total control of the SUDS system and had made massive strides to controlling the SUDS facility in its entirety," he took a swig of the beer. "Trillions of souls in his hands," he took another swig.
"And he was a Screaming One," Herod said softly, his eyes far away. "For years he held it together, until he couldn't any longer. I killed him," he stared at the gathered DS's. "I killed him, ended his torment and pain, because I loved him."
They were silent.
Herod nodded and the boxy robot moved over and pushed a chair over by Herod, who sat down.
"Let me start from the beginning, so you all understand what happened," he said. He took a deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled it through clenched teeth even as he tilted his head so the brim of the moo moo tender hat shaded his eyes.
"Sam had cracked how to use the mat-trans to get to the SUDS facility and came to get me..."