Sentience (6 page)

"Hey, you can lean on me, you know that, right?" Ling said, becoming more serious.

"This much heavy metal, I doubt it," Charley said, cracking a smile.

"Don't do that, Charley. Don't take this all on your own," Ling said, grabbing both of his hands, "I want to help you through this." She was chiding him, but he knew it was out of compassion. In her eyes, he could see the heart of a woman who was truly taking on his pain.

"I couldn't do this without you, Ling, sorry for being a buzz kill," Charley replied. They hugged, and agreed that it was time to head to the clinic.

The drive was not a long one, but it never ceased to amaze him how futuristic the city of Shanghai was. Everywhere he looked, the telltale gray was evident on the skin of countless individuals, a sure sign of prosthetic replacement. He knew that most of their procedures were voluntary, and they viewed it as something to be proud of, not a stigma. On one corner, he saw an elderly man sprinting down the street, followed closely by his children. On another, a man simply stared, his empty gaze signifying that he was focusing on something far away. There was not a single person here whose life was not touched by the robotic revolution in some way.

The taxi stopped in front of the clinic, and the two of them stepped out. Almost immediately, a woman passing by spoke a lively Chinese phrase, her eyes locked on Charley.

"What did she say?" Charley asked.

"Oh, just admiring your hardware," Ling said, somewhat absent-mindedly. Charley began to chuckle a bit.

"Don't say it," Ling quipped, rolling her eyes.

"I couldn't top that, honestly," Charley joked, still laughing. They strolled through the front door and past the front desk, the clerks by now very familiar with the two of them. They made it to their usual room, and Charley removed his shirt, preparing for the tests.

"Good to see you again," Won, the technician said. This was pretty much the only English phrase Won could speak, and he couldn't understand a word of English, so Charley simply nodded back. Quiet and reserved, Won was nonetheless a brilliant young technician, and intuitive where his book smarts would not give him answers. He attached data cables to different points on Charley's prosthetics to monitor signals sent to them. He spoke a phrase in Mandarin to Ling.

"He says that last time, he saw some errant signals being sent to your limbs, and wanted to try a variation of the same test," Ling translated. Charley nodded, taking a deep breath and attempting to relax. Wan spoke more Mandarin, and Ling shot back a clearly offended remark. He found, though, that as he continued to argue, the Mandarin seemed to fade out, and he could hear something else entirely.

Patterns.
Articles. A. The. Her tone is dropping. The pitch is part of the language, as well. There's my name.

"He says he wants you to," Ling began to say. She stopped short of actually saying it.

"It's ok. I think I know what he wants me to do," Charley said. He took a look at her, smiled, and closed his eyes.

He thought of her, on the ride to Shanghai. She was so beautiful, even dressed in her work clothes. She smiled at him, and he returned the gesture, and began to slowly hope that he would get to know her better. He didn't know
how long these tests would take, but was willing to keep at it for however long they wanted him there.

Wan and Ling conversed in Mandarin, pointing at the screens as brain waves and code started to do strange things. Charley was far too gone into his memory to hear it.

He reminisced about that first date, the first time she accepted an invitation to dinner. Charley knew how to cook a few American dishes, and thankfully, Ling didn't mind an overcooked steak. He knew that physical intimacy would be difficult with all of his enhancements, but he had no ulterior motives, only worries that if anything ever escalated to that point, she would be injured. She calmed those worries for him, spending plenty of time on his balcony with him, just watching the city lights come up as the sun went down. The moment was perfect. She took both of his hands, as if signaling that she accepted all of him. He knew he had found more than just a girlfriend, he had found a truer friend than he had ever known.

Wan and Ling were now silent. Wan continued to stare at the screens, while Ling took Charley's hand.

The times weren't always great. Charley spent months trying to contact his parents, trying to warn them. He searched for any clues about Base, about Sanctus Humana, about Matthews and his company, but could find no rhyme or reason for their actions. He knew that they were not going to rest at their failed attempt to bomb Lambda, that whatever they were trying to do was not going to end simply because they didn't succeed at one bombing. And he wasn't sure what they would do with their only loose end: himself. Ling tried to assure Charley that they were safe, that not even the craziest Sanctus fanatic would venture into Shanghai, the heart of the robotic revolution. He remained unconvinced. He feared for her safety.

He loved her.

I can't tell you what I know.

Charley heard his own voice, clear as day. He was not speaking to himself. Ling and Wan scrambled to turn on more machines, convinced that this was their best shot at CPU access.

"Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," Ling said.

"It'll destroy the AC. They'll kill Ling. They know about her," The voice said.

"What, what will they do? How do they know about her, who are they?" Charley said.

Charley appeared to be unconscious. Ling tried to rouse him, but he was unresponsive. Wan continued to look at the screen, baffled at what he was seeing.

"I'm sorry. Things are about to get worse," The voice replied.

Charley gasped for breath, clutching his head and trying to wrap his mind around what was going on. Wan was talking quickly, but Ling waved him off.

"Are you alright?" She said, panicked.

"Did you see any of that?" Charley asked.

"I said are you alright?" Ling asked, raising her voice.

"I need you to tell me what you saw!" Charley said, raising his, as well. Ling turned to Wan, who was still speaking, and attempted to translate as he continued.

"He says that he couldn't get access to the basic operating program...but that the data lines were giving off signals that resembled fear, anger, and your cerebral scan was matching. When you passed out, your CPU communicated directly with your brain, sending signals that he could not
intepret," Ling said. Just then, his phone rang. He stared at it for a moment as his stomach turned knots, then held it to his ear.

"Hello, Charley. Don't say a word, or the sniper across the street will put a bullet through your girlfriend's head. He says that she looks really pretty in that purple dress, and he'd hate to ruin all that fancy equipment with her brain matter," A familiar American voice said. He began to breathe a little heavier, rising to his feet.

"Now, head to the front door," The voice said. Charley hesitated and looked into Ling's eyes, his own wrought with fear.

"A .495 Jackal round will exit the other side of that building before it stops, so get moving, Mr. Reeser, and don't you dare open your mouth," The voice said, becoming more aggressive. Charley exited the exam room, followed closely by Ling.

"Charley?
Charley!" She protested.

"Lose her, unless you want her in a coffin!" The man said. Charley picked up his pace, running from her as she tried and failed to keep up.

"There's a taxi with an open door out front. Get inside," The man further instructed. Charley did so, jumping into the backseat and slamming the door as the vehicle raced off, leaving Ling at the front of the building. He hoped that she would be safe...his last thought before another device was jabbed into his neck, and he faded out once again.

It was like a vague dream. Charley called out, his voice echoing in the darkness. He heard whispers, a labored effort to say something, but nothing came of it. All he could do was ponder and pray that he could find a way out, find Ling before...he didn't know.

Charley awoke in an enclosed room, two stories up. The lights were out, and through a window he could see a crowd gathered, with press snapping pictures and asking questions. An old projector told him that he was in an auditorium, but the deactivated mech he almost tripped over puzzled him. However, the rifle in the window had a clear purpose. Once again, his phone rang, and he held it to his ear.

"You learn to speak Mandarin in your time there? Ah, it doesn't matter. Look, by now, I'm sure you've seen the rifle in the window. So here's what I want you to do. There's a man that's gonna take the stage with a soul patch on his face. He's wearing a gray suit today, you'll recognize him when you see him. Shoot him in the head, or your girl dies," The man said.

"Who is this guy? Why do you need me to kill him?" Charley asked.

"Nothing special, we just need somebody with robot parts, and you'll do the trick. So please, pick up that rifle and get ready," The man said.

"I won't do it," Charley said. He could hear the man sigh into the phone.

"Look to your right, Mr. Reeser. There's another projection booth. Switch on your x-ray vision and have a closer look," The man said. Charley switched his vision to infrared, and saw another man with a rifle pointed into the crowd. He followed the sniper's beam to its target...Ling. His heart sank, and he picked up the rifle.

"Now, this speech is only supposed to last a minute or two. You have sixty seconds. If that man is not dead by then, she will be," The man threatened. His heart racing, Charley pointed the rifle at the man on stage,
who he now recognized as the Chinese Prime Minister. He would be an assassin, he realized, and the disabled mech would be an accomplice. He breathed heavily, trying to steady his aim.

"Thirty seconds, Charley!" The man yelled. Charley was no closer to making the shot. His mind raced, knowing that he could destabilize a country with this shot.
If he didn't do it...

"Twenty seconds!"

"God, forgive me," Charley said, bringing the rifle back up to his shoulder and aiming true.

You have to. Don't let her die.

As his aim stabilized, he thought of her, how strong she was. She wouldn't want this to happen.

"Ten seconds!"

I can explain it. They'll put me in jail, maybe even kill me, but at least she'll be alive, and maybe we can undo all of this.

"Five, four, three, two," The voice said, growing quieter. Suddenly, he felt another jab in his neck. His finger twitched, firing the shot. The Prime Minister fell to the ground, killed instantly. The crowd began to panic.

"One," The man said into his ear, "You failed, Charley. We can't use you," He said menacingly, "Kill her and get out of there."

"No!" Charley screamed, powerless to do anything, still motionless and under the man's control. He yelled out as he heard three more shots, crying out in sadness and anger.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be! She was supposed to be protected!

"That's called a lie. Learn it, you'll hear many more of them," The man said, clearly hearing the CPU speak. Suddenly, Charley was no longer under his control.

"I should kill you. I should murder you right in this booth. No, Ling! There were several shots, maybe the sniper missed, maybe she's still alive in there!" He swung his metallic arm in a brutal haymaker, knocking the man aside. He then jumped from the booth, landing on the floor and ignoring the pain from the 20 foot drop. He pushed through the crowd, out to where Ling...no...

"No. No no no no. Ling, get up! We have to go!" Charley said, shaking her lifeless body. Tears streamed down his face, and he blubbered unintelligible grief as he desperately placed her down and tried to give her CPR.

"Ling! Ling! Damn it, Ling, don't leave me here by myself!" Charley said, screaming, tears dripping down onto her. He knew it had been too long...she was gone. 

She's dead. No, she can't be dead. If I did what I was supposed to do, she was supposed to be spared. There was no way around it, I had to do it...no! Why?

He dropped his head onto hers, cradling it and sobbing aloud. He hoped that the police would just come and shoot him on sight. 

The CPU was no longer keeping secrets, but it still was making no sense. It spoke of conspiracies and plans, mixing its exclamations with grief and pain. The only sure thing was his beloved woman, dead on the floor.