“If the purpose of Arcology is to build a megastructure that houses an entire city, what is the hardest part of achieving that goal?

Honestly? It would be hiding all the undesirables from view. In some places we see some pipes for plumbing and power management and while it isn’t as sexy as some other parts of Macroon, it's still fine. The undesirables are hidden between floors, where the grime and supports can meet and fester, a sacrificial area meant to be unclean and vile so the rest can be clean and thrive.

That’s the solution we came up with for Macroon, we all can’t be genius like Paolo Soleri and redefine the concept of a city, but we can build them!”

* Macroon Magazine interview with Architect Dregech Maurck, Macroon Urban Planner, October 2052

***

I ran.

And as I ran I could feel the heat behind me melt the plexiglass, allowing the monster passage after me.

At the same time I felt the new wave of heat I heard the screams. The people I was supposed to protect were slaughtered by the metal giant.

I ran faster, tears filling my eyes as I threw myself down the corridor as fast I could pump my legs.

In the more reasonable side of my brain I recognized my genius of going for a more lightweight outfit, but that was mostly drowned by the fear, grief, and pain that was flooding my system.

I ran, focusing all the motions to do the same thing.

Fear pushes me forward.

Pain motivates me from feeling more, the image of the burning hallway flashing through my mind every time the burning in my legs makes me want to stop.

The grief… I try to use it but I can’t. I didn’t know Sky for more than a few hours at most. I didn’t know the corporate drones or security guards besides Belken, Coriro, and Roody. Poor Roody.

But I fought alongside them, had things in common and I was the only one to make it out.

My more reasonable side is throwing terms like, survivor’s guilt, but guilt didn’t care about the term and soon my limbs grew heavy. My breath coming in gasps and not from the exercise, I felt like puking on the floor and I fell to my knees.

Clutching at anything to keep myself upright as the pain in my gut pulled lower and lower, eating at my insides until I wanted to empty it all, to cleanse what was plaguing me.

Ripping my gaiter off, I heaved. Trying to force the ill out I grew more and more desperate and in pain. My body, fighting against the emotions and my reactions to them at the same time, started to send adrenaline to my already overworked brain.

I tried to focus on the pain, ignoring the other issues entirely but the human side of me was stronger, the animalistic urges blotted out everything except the need to find somewhere safe and hide.

***

I came to in a small space, barely enough room to crawl but I found myself curled up, covered in sweat, and aching.

Blinking to clear my vision, I realized I was behind a ventilation grate, probably in the walls or floor of a hallway.

How did I get here?

Feeling my arms, it was clear I crawled for a distance, my gloves showed signs of wear.

Was I safe?

My clouded mind thought so, apparently. Holed up in a small space from a large predator, hidden.

I tried moving upright but ventilation wasn’t meant for someone to comfortably navigate or traverse the air ducts.

I instead rolled so I could look forward to where I assumed I had come from.

I noticed something on my leg as I moved and looked down at it. The tablet was still taped there but in rough condition, my less coherent self wasn’t worried about the screen and it was scratched to hell.

Looking at the poor device I tried powering it on. Nothing happened.

Must be dead.

Pulling off my glove I ran it across the surface of the tablet.

It had power, but something was wrong.

I reached for my tools in the utility belt, I got to work repairing the device, using it as a distraction from what was happening around me.

Sometimes the mundane helps, returning to a normal state, something we know you can do.

I can fix this, I can’t fight Amadeus, but I can fix electronics.

After fifteen minutes I finished the repair and tried powering it on.

As it booted up it flashed blue.

“I see you’ve survived. Good.”

Blinking at the sudden light I asked a question that I was dying to know the answer to. “Who are you? You can’t be from any security, you are too precise for that. You know things right before they happen and have access to my tablet which shouldn’t be possible.”

“I am a Class XII Personal AI, a Vanguard’s AI.”

It was still not offering its name.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Fine.

“Sky-Blue Wire said that Samurai gained points by saving people, is this part of that?”

“My parameters include the survival of the human species.”

Evasive at best, but it was an alien A.I. who knows how it thought or answered others.

Thinking back to the other interactions I had with it I realized when it last departed before Sky arrived that it seemed to try to drop me off there.

“You can’t be Aerthyos, Sky’s A.I. Aerthyos confused me with a Samurai for a moment and you’ve been with me since the Model Nine attacked. Are you the reason that Aerthyos thought I was a Samurai?” I asked, pushing for an answer in the cramped space.

There was a hesitation before it answered, flashing the text box the same blue as always.

“I can’t say for certain, I would have to ask Aerthyos and they were destroyed when Vanguard Sky-Blue Wire’s head was crushed. Although I could hypothesize that it is unlikely my interaction with you didn’t have an effect on Aerthyos.

To clarify, I am not your A.I.”

But it didn’t tell me whose A.I. it was… I put that on the backburner to ponder about later.

“You suffered a panic attack. You need to recover.”

I sucked in my breath. While I understood what happened, I refused to admit it.

I knew it was irrational but I didn’t care.

Anger flooded my system. Anger is easier to feel than pain or shame. And I was about to lash out when the screen flashed blue again.

“I have found a location nearby without Antithesis that you can rest and refuel.”

What did it say? Refuel? Whatever. My anger was pushed slightly aside by my stomach demanding attention.

Traitor.

I followed the instructions to crawl around in the ventilation before I exited into what looked to be a rest area for a corporation. The slate gray walls and almost inspirational poster spoke volumes about their need for a friendly environment.

But there were a row of vending machines and tables to eat at. Not the worst break room I’d come across.

“Here we go. I’ve researched your current ailment and this is something often used as a way to cure it.”

I heard the clunk from one of the vending machines as someone hacked it to drop some of its contents for free. Either that or the A.I. used some of their Samurai’s money to buy it for me.

Regardless I picked up the contents to find…chocolate?

“Are you prescribing me chocolate?” I asked in surprise.

“Yes. I have not found a standard dosage but know the lethal amount is about 1 gram of Theobroma per kilogram of body weight

You are only about 50 kilos so don’t eat more than 40 grams of Theobroma.”

I just blinked at the screen.

“Oh. These candy bars, as they are labeled, contain only 10 milligrams of Theobroma. Don’t eat 40,000 of these Choxolate Craze. Wait. Don't even eat 50 of them. The sugar would kill you first.”

“Are you…trying to make me feel better?” I said with a laugh. Prescribing chocolate. Running numbers for sugar. It did distract me from my fears for a second.

And that was enough for me to take a bite of the cheap chocolate bar.

A couple other packages dropped from the other vending machines. Sandwiches, burritos, fried chicken, and other convenient meals set aside for me.

“Make you feel better? Yes, through proper drug use.

But I can’t find anything standard for humans. There seems to be a couple sets of ranges for each human that someone has to interpret. Why do they do that?”

“What are the ranges called?” I bet it was rich or poor, or perhaps, healthy and unhealthy.

“They are labeled Male and Female.”

I blinked at the screen for a moment. Really? But if the A.I. hasn’t learned about humans then it is likely it doesn’t know.

“Do you know about gender?”

“No. I’ll search it up. If you will explain, I’ll get another point of view to reference.”

“Well…I am not an expert on the issue. But most of human history has had two genders. Male and female. It is a social construct and around the fin de siècle the identities changed.” I paused, thinking.

I hadn’t really thought about it. I wasn’t really one to ask about it when I had the goal of becoming part of a machine. Literally. The circuits and code called to me, to erase my worries and become just a cog.

Something that’ll support others.

All someone could ask for.

“Well. I should explain that there are a lot of different identities. I more or less identify as enby.” I hesitated for a second. “Nonbinary. I don’t really identify with the standard two that all the corporations demand everyone adhere to. Do you have a gender?”

“Interesting. And no, I don’t have a gender. I’ll look into this. Learning about humans is very interesting.”

As I finished the chocolate I moved to a sandwich.

I checked the toppings. Lettuce, tomato, avocado, bacon, and chicken.

Maybe, I glanced at another and found a more comforting combination. Mozzarella, tomato, and basil. A sandwich of home.

I picked up the small package and unwrapped it. The warm fragrance of fresh basil soothed the soul.

An image of the small corner ‘underground’ bakery came to mind, the thick lettering of “Gerios’ Grub” hidden in the faux-foliage was apparent to anyone who knew where to look.

It was so comforting that I almost didn’t realize when the next message appeared on the tablet.

“Why did you change your choice? The other has better nutrients and reviews on VendingPro™”

“It’s a preference of mine.” I said between bites of gooey cheese and fresh tomato.

“You would choose a lesser option because of what? Emotion?”

“Yeah…I guess it's a human thing. You’d probably not understand.”

“I don’t. And while I do not understand, I find your decision making to be interesting as you are clearly taking in factors that I am not calculating.”

I laughed.

“It's the human experience. We are fickle things who find enjoyment in our surroundings.” I pause.

“But then we care too much about the little things. We care about other people…and when they die-”

“Antithesis!”

I was interrupted by a beeping noise from the tablet which I silenced.

Looking back at the screen, Monitor threw up camera views of the surrounding hallways. They were full of different Models of Antithesis but the vast majority was Model Threes.

“Fuck” I cursed and grabbed the rest of the sandwich and moved back to the vent.

Throwing the last piece of sandwich in my mouth, I crawled inside the ventilation.

“I apologize for not seeing the Antithesis sooner. They are all over this floor, attracted by the noise and the smell of burning bodies. I’ll figure out how to get you out. Just wait.”

“No…I think I have an idea.”

I didn’t even need to leave the ventilation. I could crawl to the space where the air ducts meet the inbetween floor.

Turning away from the tablet I started moving forward, pulling my body along the galvanized steel casing.

Moving like a monitor lizard through the air ducts I started to work on some of my issues.

The Monitor helped me calm down. But I still needed time to settle my emotions and as I pulled myself forward I started to sort them into categories that I could work on later.

If I didn’t set aside time and just act numb to all feelings then it would backfire in the worst ways.

I didn’t have the time to actually help myself through the trauma but maybe I could get myself to a battle-ready state and cry in my room when I get there later.

When I get there, no ifs about it. Make it certain that I will return to the dingy little apartment, the pink and teal neon lights illuminating the small half-cot bench that held my collection of hoodies and lab coats that I used as bedding.

The hissing from the fryer in the adjacent room would lull me into sleep, dreaming of the recycled donuts, sometimes called dough-naughts, for the lack of anything resembling actual dough in their creation.

The small apartment gave me something I could set my sights on. Home.

After what felt like an hour of heaving myself through the ‘clean’ ventilation I found the connection to the sacrificial space, the floor between the fifteenth and fourteenth floor.

I found the junction sealed with a light manhole cover, basically a metal plate used to keep the air ducts separate from the floor but the thin galvanized sheets of steel surrounding it had more structural support than it so I really had to carefully open it to prevent destroying it.

It took a few tries to slide a screwdriver in the groove but I lifted it up and glanced down into the mess below.

My leg lit up blue. Turning the tablet towards my face I read.

“Wherever you are going, I can’t spot it on camera. Good luck.”

I positioned the tablet over the drop and took a picture, the flash lit the grimy space with floating chips of overoxidized metal in the corroded water.

“That is disgusting. What a waste.”

Smiling, I dropped into the murk.