when something bad had happened. Or was about to.
I looked around the room, hoping I was
making eye contact with whoever was watching. “I swear I won’t do
that again.” An arm grew from one of the servys and took Spindle’s
hand. I refused to let go. “I’m not letting go unless you promise
to bring him back.”
We played tug of war. Spindle jerked back
and forth. Two more servys entered. I shifted my weight, prepared
to kick them across the room. Spindle’s eyelight was bright. He
gently took my hand and removed it from his arm.
“I will return, Master Socket.”
His eyelight rotated away. The servys
escorted him from the room. I would’ve done anything to take back
what I did. I wanted to know why I’m here. I wanted to know what
they are doing with me. I wanted to know about my father and Pivot.
Instead, I discovered a titanic war.
I was ushered to a secure room, maybe it was
an infirmary, I don’t know. I don’t remember. Once the adrenaline
wore off, I was spinning in thoughts, not knowing which ones were
mine and which were Spindle’s. All I know is that I was lying down,
staring at the ceiling like a mental patient. Eventually, Spindle’s
knowledge settled like grains of sand in a jar of water.
And then I understood. I understood it
all.
When duplication first started however many
years ago, the duped identities were set loose in virtualmode
environments. People didn’t think much of it; it was kind of cool
knowing there was an exact duplicate of you that lived a separate
life, even though it was digital. They were virtual clones and they
were perfectly linked to whoever cloned them. The creator knew
exactly where they were and what they were up to.
But anomalies in code developed, the human
equivalent of genetic recombination, which allowed the dupes to
break the link and roam free. They started living their own lives
and their identities began to drift away from that of their
creator. Dupes knew they were reproductions. They knew they weren’t
real and neither was their world. They wanted more than a virtual
environment, a reflection of the physical world. They wanted to see
what real life was. They didn’t want to be told how the ocean
breeze smelled or what love felt like, they wanted to know and not
be told what an apple tastes like. They wanted the direct
experience. They wanted to exist.
Dupes sought out their creators and
attempted to download into their skin bodies, not to merge with
them but to hijack their creator’s skin. That’s when the deaths
spiked. People were dying at the hands of their own creations,
their own selves. Their dupes were killing them.
Paladins discovered the new threat and
secretly made the general population aware of it, but before
duplication was eliminated and banned, the existing ones went into
hiding. Virtualmode was a seemingly endless universe, but the
Paladins were tracking them down. Dupes were being snuffed out. If
they wanted to exist, they would have to escape virtualmode.
They found their way into factory networks
that specialized in experimental textiles, specifically
nanotechnology-based textiles, the very stuff that made up the
moldable servys and Garrison rooms. Dupes, speaking the same
language as computers, were able to download into the moldable
material and secretly form human bodies without the factory
operators being aware of it. They assumed bodies that grew hair,
sloughed skin cells, sweat, shit and spit; they were
indistinguishable from real humans, the organic soul-filled bodies,
that were operating the factories and they walked out into the real
world with a real sense of smell, taste, touch and sight. They
escaped into the physical world. They were alive, and they were
among us.
The Paladins caught on but too late. So many
had escaped and blended into the population. The manhunt continued.
The dupes remained fugitives and dispersed, disappearing into the
human population like a cup of water dumped into the ocean. The
only
I looked around the room, hoping I was
making eye contact with whoever was watching. “I swear I won’t do
that again.” An arm grew from one of the servys and took Spindle’s
hand. I refused to let go. “I’m not letting go unless you promise
to bring him back.”
We played tug of war. Spindle jerked back
and forth. Two more servys entered. I shifted my weight, prepared
to kick them across the room. Spindle’s eyelight was bright. He
gently took my hand and removed it from his arm.
“I will return, Master Socket.”
His eyelight rotated away. The servys
escorted him from the room. I would’ve done anything to take back
what I did. I wanted to know why I’m here. I wanted to know what
they are doing with me. I wanted to know about my father and Pivot.
Instead, I discovered a titanic war.
I was ushered to a secure room, maybe it was
an infirmary, I don’t know. I don’t remember. Once the adrenaline
wore off, I was spinning in thoughts, not knowing which ones were
mine and which were Spindle’s. All I know is that I was lying down,
staring at the ceiling like a mental patient. Eventually, Spindle’s
knowledge settled like grains of sand in a jar of water.
And then I understood. I understood it
all.
When duplication first started however many
years ago, the duped identities were set loose in virtualmode
environments. People didn’t think much of it; it was kind of cool
knowing there was an exact duplicate of you that lived a separate
life, even though it was digital. They were virtual clones and they
were perfectly linked to whoever cloned them. The creator knew
exactly where they were and what they were up to.
But anomalies in code developed, the human
equivalent of genetic recombination, which allowed the dupes to
break the link and roam free. They started living their own lives
and their identities began to drift away from that of their
creator. Dupes knew they were reproductions. They knew they weren’t
real and neither was their world. They wanted more than a virtual
environment, a reflection of the physical world. They wanted to see
what real life was. They didn’t want to be told how the ocean
breeze smelled or what love felt like, they wanted to know and not
be told what an apple tastes like. They wanted the direct
experience. They wanted to exist.
Dupes sought out their creators and
attempted to download into their skin bodies, not to merge with
them but to hijack their creator’s skin. That’s when the deaths
spiked. People were dying at the hands of their own creations,
their own selves. Their dupes were killing them.
Paladins discovered the new threat and
secretly made the general population aware of it, but before
duplication was eliminated and banned, the existing ones went into
hiding. Virtualmode was a seemingly endless universe, but the
Paladins were tracking them down. Dupes were being snuffed out. If
they wanted to exist, they would have to escape virtualmode.
They found their way into factory networks
that specialized in experimental textiles, specifically
nanotechnology-based textiles, the very stuff that made up the
moldable servys and Garrison rooms. Dupes, speaking the same
language as computers, were able to download into the moldable
material and secretly form human bodies without the factory
operators being aware of it. They assumed bodies that grew hair,
sloughed skin cells, sweat, shit and spit; they were
indistinguishable from real humans, the organic soul-filled bodies,
that were operating the factories and they walked out into the real
world with a real sense of smell, taste, touch and sight. They
escaped into the physical world. They were alive, and they were
among us.
The Paladins caught on but too late. So many
had escaped and blended into the population. The manhunt continued.
The dupes remained fugitives and dispersed, disappearing into the
human population like a cup of water dumped into the ocean. The
only
Similar Books
