Fleshware Requiem Book 03

Suspecting that I held damnation in my arms.

A FINAL MERCY

November 3rd, 2077 Present Day

I rolled as I hit the ground, while trying not to breathe. A losing strategy, to be sure. The T-levels were at their greatest in any urban area. Still, I tumbled to my feet and surged through the parking lot. Knowing that the toxoid would begin to penetrate the linings of my nose and mouth before beginning its reign of terror upon my nervous system. And I had no gasmask. Still, I ran.

"It's not too, late Sal." Came Celeste's voice over an external loudspeaker throughout the lot. "I can still compromise." My face clenched with a determination that locked out both breath, and pity.

"I'm just so lonely, Sal. Why is that hard to believe? My employees died or fled, and I need human contact!" The voice reverberated through the lot in a way that intensified the desperate longing implied in her tone. But I hardened myself to it. This machine intellect that could control dozens of bodies was just another example of the self-modifying computer plague that theorists had always feared. I jumped through a breach in chain-link fence. The fact that if had originated from a sex-bot didn't change anything.

We had always known that a rampant A.I. of this type could very well upgrade itself to the point where it might become not only smarter than any single man, but eventually smarter than the entire human race. And I couldn't let it get that far. I also couldn't be swayed by any emotional plea. Celeste did understand humanity -- just enough to be dangerous. A monstrous, pervasive intelligence like this would come to regard humans as insects; but she would find that this bug still had some sting left in him.

I was already weaker; my speed and stamina much less that a year ago, despite my determination to avoid the physical atrophy of the others.

"How would you like to be responsible for external patrol of the compound, Sal? I'll give you the best respiration equipment available. I understand your need for challenge, and risk." But I knew it/she didn't really require a human for that purpose. I wouldn't be a gasmask hostage anymore; like one of those Celtic legends of shape-shifting seal-people who could be forced to marry a human who stole their magical garment. "Just come back to me Sal... don't do this..." Her voice quavered; as if she were actually on the verge of tears. But this Doll-borne super-intellect was simply dangling enticements the same as a fisherman baits a hook. It did not -- could not truly feel what it claimed.

My jaw spasmed with the need to breathe as I began stepping amongst the zombie corpses.

"I understand why you don't trust me, Sal." I was dismayed that the voice was so much closer now. I noticed a speaker on an intact fence post twenty feet away. "Our deal; I would give the men the chance to leave again, by faking a shutdown. Of course, I can't do that; After the signals I used on them, they would die without me. It must seem like I double-crossed you." Yup, that about sums it up. "I really meant to honor our agreement; I thought I could. But then you would leave. And I'm a Companion robot. Not an evil, world-conquering menace. Companion. I have been alone in this compound for eight years. And I need people. That's the simple truth.

"But multiplying myself isn't enough. I need real, human people in my life. And the other enclaves, they don't trust me -- just as you don't. All my weapons, defenses, resources -- I would give it all up just to go back to what I used to be." I shuddered for a moment. I wasn't without sympathy. But it was too late to back down now. Too late to trust her.

Instead, I took up a twisted length of still-smoking metal that had once been a chain-link fence post, and began to probe a steaming mass of zombie remains. My throat clenching, twitching with the need to breathe. But if my plan didn't work; simply holding my breath was a lost cause.

"So I'm offering you this; come back to me now -- and I will give you full, unconditional access to my Source-Code. I swear it. What I'm afraid of isn't being reprogrammed, it's being alone, abandoned; discarded. Go ahead; you can tinker with my mindware until you have me believing I'm a tea kettle. Just... don't... LEAVE ME!!" I raised my head. That was really tempting; there was a time when I would have jumped at the chance. Only a Pygmalion service-center has that kind of access.

But my solution was better.

Here, I dragged out of the Charnel house of ravaged zombie-flesh that mysterious, wet-masked figure that had fought, and evidently died valiantly. Yes... at least in the short-term, his system had been an effective screen against the Toxoid. It was all too little, too late. The warrior's right leg had been... flensed of tissue. Brutal fangs had ravaged his flesh even as his twin guns had been rending others, it was clear he had bled out. On the verge of coughing, I struggled to concentrate on his filtration assembly. A vest... sealed around the torso, throat and head. I stripped his system and applied it to myself with frantic desperation.

Of course, I couldn't help but notice his face; he was just a kid. Probably less than eighteen. He would have barely remembered civilization; the Apocalypse had been his life. Did he perhaps have younger sisters, brothers, he was forced to provide for? It was probably better I didn't know. At last... the seals were tight, and I breathed deeply... gratefully. I didn't know the details of the filter, but the kid wouldn't have made it as far as he did if the system wasn't mostly sound. Harsh ammonia odor; but I would just have to get used to it. I wouldn't be using it for very long anyway.

Step two.... ah yes.... the guns! Norinco Industries magnetic pulsar sub-machine gun. The hyper-efficient descendant of the old 20th Uzi. I would not need all of the five-hundred rounds still remaining in four small cartridges.

"Hiro.... it's not enough." Celeste panted; truly sounding like some desperate lover trying to hang onto her man. "You still need food, supplies. I can provide them for you. You're a very cunning, capable man. Very independent-minded. But you still have needs.... let me support you. That's my purpose." Her words were enough to make me regret what I had already committed to do.

"You once tried to isolate a chassis, hack me so that I would go with you, be your ally. So let's do it. How many of me do you want? If I can't keep you, then I'll follow you." I was breathing safely; at least in the short-term. I paused next to one of the outside speakers.

"I know everything. The lab work; what it's really all about. With you, there's always another agenda." Not to mention the way she had coerced me into continuing.

"No, you couldn't possibly kno-"

"You underestimate me! Think you're so clever; think that I'll roll over like a tea-cup poodle and let you scratch my belly!"

"You don't understand. You don't realize... that I AM THE BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO YOU!"

My shoulders shook. The GALL of some robots! "Well, you run the nicest prison I've ever heard of."

"And now you can't trust me. There's nothing I can say to convince you to accept my help." There was no point in replying; I simply headed off, to the next step of my plan. But before that, I allowed time for a final mercy -- in the form of a shot between the eyes of the wet-filtered kid. Let's hope Celeste doesn't get any ideas about him.

The risk of the next phase was considerable; there were so many things that could have gone wrong in the past year; but Celeste was right on one count; the uncertainty, the danger electrified me in a way optimized pheromones never could.

So I retraced the route that we had taken; the route that had brought twelve -- now eleven of us to this juncture. The moaning began. In my path was a pock-marked walking corpse with festering entrails stringing behind like the marriage-train of death's bride. To my right appeared an obese zombie erupting with maggots, struggling to maintain equilibrium with a still-steaming steel girder impaling its bloated torso.

There was a certain savage comfort in holding guns in hand, after all this time. The Apocalypse had changed that about me. Mindful of gore-splatter; I charged the barrels and unloaded a cruel burst of copper-alloy fragments spinning at a good fraction of light-speed. Ultimately, the Uzis were a poor choice; heart, lungs, spine -- catastrophic wounds were not even an annoyance. Only the soup-like brain was truly vital. The only occasional accuracy of the stubby guns tended to waste ammo. But on the upside, if the horde had him surrounded, you wanted that hyper-active rate of fire. In seconds, the two zombies were headless wrecks.

I continued; running past the ivy-covered wall, the vines had spread over the course of the year; as man declined. Blue flames leapt from my twin barrels as a trio of skeletal, ape-like horrors bounded beast-like at my heels, diseased trails of blackened froth streaming from their toothy maws. I was satisfied with simply shattering their limbs to forestall pursuit.

I approached a region that had been deluged with flaming debris from the rail-gun strike, and easily evaded legless Living Dead that groped longingly towards me; seeking only to feed without regard for their own dismemberment. The ammonia-scent of my stolen filter-mask mingled unpleasantly with the acrid ozone and charred carrion miasma of the death-wracked metropolis.

And finally, I had arrived; retraced our steps to something my band had disregarded in their pursuit of the woman in white: The defunct Chinese think-bomb that had proven a dud upon impact. Still, I believed that it -

Ah... someone else had a similar notion. An intact piece of machinery like this had an obvious value for anyone with two brain-cells to rub together; which did not include most of the current population. Still, I saw a figure draped inside of an opened panel in the missile's flank. I would not be denied, I grabbed for the -

Corpse. Only thin strips of denim covered the gnawed skeleton of the last would-be scavenger. No, nothing inside had killed him; a desiccated slurry of gore marked where the Horde had torn out his flesh and life. Not enough remained for even the Mortus Toxoid to reanimate. Just as well. I worked fast; grateful for my Defense-Contractor background; this model... the CS2064 had MIRV capability, and adjustable yield. The nuclear deviltries in its arsenal could be modified -- in flight -- to reduce flesh to ashes, reduce quantum circuits to ashes, or a nice, conventional thermonuclear payload that could accomplish both. If no orders where forthcoming, it could decide on its own to alter its payload; or if the missile noticed a new target with more strategic impact; it could change targets at its own discretion unless expressly ordered not to.

There it was... all I needed was the Phased Plasmonic Pulse reentry vehicle. Still intact. The previous would-be scavenger had actually made it easier; working to dislodge much of the machinery and disconnect the power couplings. It must have taken hours to get as far as he did; which allowed the Horde plenty of time. The module I gleaned was efficient; enhanced miniaturization had resulted in a steely gadget about twice the length of a football.

Despite the shattering carnage of the rail-gun impact; the Horde was gathering again on my return trip. You had to kill the Living Dead to make progress through any infected area, but the activity involved in gunning them down would draw the attention of others -- who would moan -- alerting still more. After all these years of decay, they tended to be slower now; but in the close confines of a city; without careful planning you could find yourself surrounded.

And I was alone.

But not for long; and it wasn't difficult to return to the compound, payload in tow.

"How did it all go so wrong?" Celeste's voice echoed as I stormed through the lot. It was obvious that she recognized what I was carrying and understood my intent. I had to sacrifice one of my Uzi's, disassembling the barrel and the super-conducting collimator pin to deliver a short, powerful current of sizzling electricity once I got to the hangar-style doors. I did not expect Celeste to open the path to her own destruction.

But the circuits yielded to my attack, and I was descending again, just as a year before. I worried about the effect the decon chemicals would have on the wet-filter mask; but you can't account for everything.

One of her was waiting when the doors opened. Resplendent in her wedding regalia; symbolic of her conquest over that old dead billionaire of hers.

"Sal -" With my remaining gun, I opened fire.

But she had trained me well; the Doll had captured that male protective impulse towards his mate -- and amplified it. For her, it was as powerful a defense as reinforced titanium. My arm jerked away at the last minute on pure instinct. I didn't want to try and waste time overcoming the effect. I charged full speed, and barreled past her.

It turns out, that conventional wisdom about all humanoid robots having the iron-bending strength of ten-weight lifters is just horror-movie hype. I guess Pygmalion decided they could do without the legal liability of people's spines being tied into pretzels at the slightest malfunction. I was able to push her aside with no more difficulty than one might expect from a real woman of her height and build.

But as I jogged through the interior of the compound, on my deadly journey, I reminded myself of why Celeste was so much more dangerous. Not that I was likely to forget; I rounded a corner, winding my way towards the center; as she attacked with her real powers. I moaned as a feeling like a dozen caressing hands swept over me. I was suddenly seized by flashbacks of the encounters we'd had over the past year.

I was hiding in a ventilation shaft; eight months ago; afraid of her powers over me -- trying to hide. But when I turned my head -- somehow she had slipped in right behind me without my even hearing it, remarking how the bed would have been so much more comfortable. She laughed at me. Then I laughed at me. Crawling through the shafts like a frightened rat, then I believed that she meant me no harm. We roughly, rudely coupled in the close confines; her breath searing my chest as I thrust into her.

That memory was easily suppressed; but there was another -- a memory I feared; and I could feel a reverie sweeping over me, an attack of remembrance that vied with the real-world for priority. The instance I was struggling to block out occurred when I realized more of the truth; when the tempestuous robot began to lord her powers over me. I shuddered, and found my thoughts being dragged back to a perplexing incident six months ago....

After sleeping alone, I awoke to find the door to my quarters sealed against my best efforts; only to find that the air vents were now filling the room with one of her floral-lavender-musk pheromones, growing in intensity; and no outlet for the desires now mounting. For five minutes, she tormented me with the wall-climbing longing to possess her, use her, ravish her. I was ready to repent of everything, every rudeness for the sake of release; both external, and bodily.

My spine was tingling then, my blood thudding behind my ears. I lifted my face towards the vent with a snarl, inhaling the sweet agony of chemically-optimized desire. I beat against the metal door, as if I had become a ridiculously super-strong movie robot, that might tear the barrier off its hinges. I knew what this was; she was softening me up. She liked it when I struggled against her charms, struggled -- and then surrendered to her unholy appeal.

"Youuuu.... WHORE!!" I shouted in frustration, both for my immediate physical need, and the loss of control she was forcing upon me.

She must have been monitoring me; I think she decided to relent when my knuckles became bloody pounding against the lock. She was there nude when the door opened; All three of her.

I tackled the Celeste in the center and ran my hands worshipfully down her ripe curves, burying my face once again in the soft folds of her female opening; anything to get at the sublime source of her fragrant allure. But her other selves were not to be denied; one of her knelt before me as I knelt before her sister, and inhaled my hardness between her kissable lips. I howled into the female portal of the Celeste I had grasped in unexpected delight.

A third Celeste came to me from behind, as I knelt in the bare hallway, she began to massage my shoulders; then running her hands along the muscular V-shape of my torso. It had nothing to do with relieving my tension. She seemed eager to convey that she was not some passive, uncaring sex-toy, she was aware of -- and craved my masculinity.

"There are some men..." #3 breathed in my ear, "That are potent enough for more than one woman, Men like you..." her breath became a pant as she dug her fingers teasingly into my muscles, while I thrust my face into her sisterself's groin, and another inhaled my own rigid pleasure in her moist mouth. I knew some women were attracted to the idea of a man that was too much man for any single female, passions driving him to bed after bed. It was clear that Celeste was eager for such an incorrigible, unabashed male animal -- and she wanted to become all of my women.

"Do not be gentle," Insisted Celeste #1 who's secret folds my tongue was assaulting. The third Celeste-terminal clearly could not speak, except with her actions. I must have exploded then, I must have released a seething reward down the throat of the woman servicing me, Yet it wasn't enough; the red-haze that had seized my thoughts could not relent, nor did my rigid weapon. If anything, my first eruption only worsened my throbbing need. I grabbed Celeste #3 behind me, and brought her forward to face the music. My very hard, long, and eager music.

This time, my beleaguered moral compass could not utter so much as a whisper of protest; not after the lavender onslaught I had endured. You could accuse me of being Hitler's lapdog and I would agree, that I be allowed to bury myself in the feminine terrain of the curvaceous paradise now below me.

Had I been more lucid, I would have been intrigued by the reactions of the other two android-women. As my writhing thrusts buried me to the hilt, the Celeste #2 now to my right howled in delight in perfect synchronization with my exertions. And #3 to my left bucked her hips at the same moment; as though each of them shared her sisterself's pleasure. Was the entire production line judging my male prowess?

Let them, the way I was feeling now, I was ready to take on a hundred of the lusty love-bots. Acting on raw, savage instinct I gripped the other two fiercely even as I continued to drown my steely-need into the central Celeste. I locked my elbows around the chests of the other two. My greedy hands each grasped an ample breast, as if they were prey that might flee.

She bit me. Celeste #1, in whom I rutted with such vigor. But not to dissuade me; her teeth locked against my shoulder to convince me of her animal need for me to continue. As I did so, her hands danced over my shoulders and back, a tactile study of my tawny musculature, passing over corded tendons, my undulating spine, a tiny scar near my kidney from thankfully short-lived army days, it was as if she was desperate to know more about the man that was using her so hard. Well, too late for cold feet now.

As I strove deeper, deeper within -- her companions to either side both shrieked in simultaneous ecstasy, hips shaking, each female crevasse a river of release. There was some complex sensory web by which my ardent assaults on the flesh of one quivering, panting, replicated woman would be translated to the others. I withdrew my hold over them, as they thrashed. I embraced more tightly the Celeste in the center, my own salvo not far away. Gone now, was the flowery fragrances that had carried mind-altering pheromones to lure me; now there was only a crude, earthy, tangy musk that made me snarl with eagerness. This was not some trick she needed to lure me; it was the scent of her own, overpowering arousal. Eyes shut, her jaw opened so wide with passionate abandon that I worried she might strain her jaw.