Binary Cycle - (Part 1: Disruption) (2 page)

“So, if you’ll just head up to the supply deposit room, Jonathas, the fitter will see you in a moment.”

Jonathas stood from his workbench and shook Michael's hand. “I guess you'll have to find someone else to pick on, eh Mike?”

Michael rubbed his hands together greedily. "Fresh batch of recruits comin' in next week. I'm just sorry you'll miss all the fun."

Jonathas emptied his pockets of wrenches and screwdrivers and left the room, hopefully for the last time. 

As he made his way down the rocky corridor, he tried to imagine not having to rebuild those machines day in and day out. His calloused fingers ached from tinkering with cold metal and wires. He was sick to death of the endless chain of broken robots. Repairing, fixing, making adjustments—it was mindless work, and he was too good at it. He shrugged as he turned a corner. As an operator, he’d control the mining drones instead—likely even pilot the same ones he’d patched up down in maintenance.

He arrived at the supply depot and took a seat in one of the uniform metal chairs. His only company were the grinding screeches of the thermal transformers from the level below. It was a sound he knew too well, and his thoughts turned inward.

Jonathas had forged a meagre existence for himself as a robotics repair technician. It wasn’t a life he would have chosen for himself. It had been assigned to him, just like everything else. The colony saw to it that Jonathas had everything he could ever need to survive. That meant he received the bare necessities, and not a smidgen more. To receive his weekly stipend, all he had to do was work hard. Really hard. Day after day. Cycle after cycle. Year after year. 

Jonathas shook his head as he waited for the fitter, feeling claustrophobic in the small room.

He’d been recruited fresh out of school, a blooming protégé with dreams of outer space and spinning stars in his eyes. After a series of placements tests he’d been sent to the thermal dynamics’ robotics division in the Binary Cycle Power Plant in Bangalia. Just a hop, skip and a jump from his hometown, a tiny communications outpost north of the city. The thermal plant wasn’t exactly his first choice, but then again most young people he knew from back home never saw the lights of another city, let alone outer space. It was strange how often, smart, able-bodied men and women from his sector were overlooked. Jonathas suspected this was no coincidence.

The idea of having more human contact did brighten his spirits, surprisingly. The position of Operator was something many aspired to, but rarely attained. Their applications were ignored, just as he had been denied access to so many other great opportunities—a product of the sector of his birth.

He would accept the position of Operator, but then what? Hope to forget his dreams? Forget that he’d scored higher on all of the Advanced Personnel Replacement tests than anyone else in his age-group?

No
.

Jonathas knew deep inside that he could go into space and help the astronauts and physicist units figure out what was wrong with the planet, what was causing the orbital disruptions. 

He sighed. For the time being, his lofty aspirations were nothing but pipe dreams. He had no choice but to stay put, here in the mines, and be—

Not happy, probably.

Jonathas kicked at a loose pebble on the floor. 

He wouldn’t forget his dreams. He wouldn’t stop looking up at the sky. 

The feeling that he was somehow destined for something greater than his current life had not subsided, no matter what he told himself.

“This won’t take long, Jonathas,” the fitter said as he entered the room.

Jonathas nodded, pulling himself back to reality.

“We’re giving you an injection of nano-DNA,” the fitter told him. “It’s designed to work seamlessly with the movements of your arms and hands, allowing you to establish a direct access link to our entire Thermal Operations network. Without leaving the control module, you’ll be piloting up to two dozen Thermal Miner Drones.” 

He tapped a needle and air bubbles floated up through dark liquid sloshing around inside the syringe.

“Just a heads up though,” he continued. “Some people say that right after you receive your first injection, there’ll be some tingling, as if you can
feel
the drones out there. You’ll keep looking around for something you thought should be there, but you can’t find it, and you can’t remember what it was. So I’ll tell you. It’s the drones you’re looking for, and the
control
. In an hour or two that feeling should pass.”

The fitter jabbed the needle into the underside of his wrist. Suddenly, a pain stabbed through him from his fingers to his head and then down his other arm. His upper back spasmed, causing his head and neck to arch violently upward as his legs buckled. His body hit the floor and his hands clenched into fists so tightly they ached.

“Reno!” shouted the fitter. “Get over here!”

Another man rushed in and gasped.

“His body is rejecting the nano-DNA, we’ve got to neutralize the serum. Get me the C-42 light scan immobilizer! What are you waiting for?”

Jonathas flipped upside down and began writhing on the ground.

“Grab hold of him!” cried the fitter. “Just get him steady—”

“Hold still boy,” Reno tried to pin his flailing arms to the ground. “You’re too strong, stop moving for a nanosecond.”

Jonathas felt a slippery wave of energy touch the top of his head, stilling his thoughts and sending a rush of calm vibrations through his now relaxing body. The sensation felt cold at first, then the cold became a dull burning fire, and that fire became ants. Drones. Thousands of them beneath the complex. He became one with the machines as they toiled deep below the rocky crust of the planet.

Jonathas and the robots spun their way through the ore, tunnelling deeper and deeper into the planet’s insides. Darkness seeped across his vision and thousands of drones swarmed over his body, swallowing his consciousness and drowning his soul in a whirring, crawling cacophony of metal.

By the light of two suns, Skyia Walker scrambled up the vines covering the western face of the Signal Tower Mesa. Her hands and feet instinctively sought out footholds and loose roots to grab hold of as she methodically climbed her way up the rock face. In the worst places she’d long ago lasered out crude steps or bound Spindex ladders to the cliffside. 

Skyia hopped up, grabbed a ledge with her fingers, and expertly swung herself across a large gap, landing gracefully on a narrow outcropping before continuing her ascent. She smiled to herself. If anyone were watching her now they’d almost think she was a professional.

Reaching the top, she pulled herself over the precipice and collapsed onto the spongy moss that covered the plateau. She blinked a few times, staring up at the bright suns. The Tower rose beside her, reaching toward the crystalline sky like an artificial limb, stark white against azure blue. Above the shining apex of the tower floated a hazy dome of purple and orange clouds that glowed against an everlasting Evening sky.

Skyia calmed her breathing, catching her breath from the hasty climb up. She filled her lungs with the dense air, cherishing its crisp sweetness. Scientists maintained that the extra oxygen in Taran air made people prone to feeling giddy and light headed. Skyia wasn’t sure about that, but even so, her head swam as she thought of all the possibilities this perfect day could grant her.

This was the fourth week of Evening, nearing its end. It was Skyia’s favorite time of the Long Day, when the light wasn’t too brash or hot, when the shadows played tricks on her eyes as they danced across the vast landscape. Another week or two and the Night would take over, rendering the people of this region deadlocked, pinned in their homes while herds of migratory predators scoured the landscape in their preferred habitat: utter darkness.

Skyia shuddered, thinking of the sheltered life they would all lead in the coming weeks. She wanted to take advantage of beautiful moments like these whenever she could. She climbed up here as often as possible while the suns provided warmth and protection against the Night creatures. Who knew how long these good times would last, especially when one considered the orbital disruptions that had become all too frequent?

Beta Kentaurus shone on the horizon, shimmering in the Western sky. Taran’s closest sun cast Skyia's world into a period of sunset which lasted weeks and weeks. Rigil Kent—the larger, but more distant star—glowed a soft golden translucence, and both suns dove toward the south-eastern horizon in slow motion. Not for the first time, she wondered what it must have been like for her ancestors on distant Earth. Their sunsets had only lasted a few minutes and the night only a few hours. She couldn't imagine it! How strange it must have been for those ancient humans…

The few clouds that had drifted across the sky were gone, burned up by the suns. It grew uncomfortably humid, so she unzipped her silver tunic. The top half fell to her waist and the light breeze cooled her naked skin, swirling her long blonde hair in shimmering sheets across her body.

Skyia sunk down onto her stomach and felt the moss—comfortable and cool—compress under her chest and arms. She sighed happily and stretched, and dreamed.

Today was her birthday, and a special birthday at that. This day marked her a quarter Binary-Year-old. Her mother had explained that according to Earth reckoning she would be twenty, but here on slow-rotating Taran it was her thirtieth full Day: her thirtieth Cycle. 

She wished her mother was here to celebrate with her. Every cycle birthday Skyia could expect a surprise waiting for her, usually when she woke up. Her mother was delightfully thoughtful and creative, always coming up with unique ways to surprise her. Last cycle, Skyia had woken up to a fluffy, excited little creature licking her face with great enthusiasm. It was a mara-mir, a playful animal her mother had bought on her last trip to Ganji Province. She had named it Willy, after the Earth author who had written so many of her favorite stories.

But this birthday her mother was away in Ganji, probably somewhere in Shangjai City. Ever since her old colleagues had invited her there on a scientific excursion two cycles ago, she had made many trips back and forth. She wouldn't tell Skyia exactly what she was doing, but assured her it was something important for the colony. It probably had to do with the planetary disruption theory or whatever it was called, she thought. Her mom had told her a few tidbits, but Skyia had a hard time believing that her world was in trouble. Now, when she looked out across the horizon, everything seemed so... perfect.

This is where I was born, this is where I’ve grown up, and someday this is where my children will live in peace.

She pulled her thoughts away from those negative thoughts and chose a lighter path. Perhaps her mom had finally found a boyfriend and was secretly visiting him.
Yes
, she thought,
that would explain a lot of things.
Like that burly-voiced man who had been leaving those voice messages recently. Banner, he had said his name was...

Skyia wished more than anything that her mother would tell her what was going on.
That
would make a good birthday present.

After all, she wasn’t a little girl anymore.

She deserved to know.

Jonathas lay on a steel table.

“Are you all right, Jonnie?” the nurse asked.

He couldn't remember how to speak. She set him down in a chair, checked his pulse, did a few other things; he couldn't comprehend it all.

The fitter stood beside the nurse, shaking. His voice trembled as he spoke. "They asked us to inject this kid with a full dose right away. What did they expect?” He punched a cabinet with his fist, denting the metal. “We could have fried his central nervous system, do you realize that? Turned him into a useless husk, good for nothing."

"When do the drugs wear off?" asked the nurse.

"Keep him here for an hour and for god's sake watch him.” He stomped toward the door. “I need to speak to management about this. What were they thinking? If his body shows any more signs of rejection, call me immediately.” He left the room, his booming voice still echoing down the halls “Could have fried his brain forever, lost a promising young individual for nothing—”

∞

After an hour, the nurse told Jonathas he could leave. He stumbled back down the hallway, feeling happy, realizing this might be the last time he would have to traverse these corridors. He was an Operator now, and would work in Control, up on ground level. The rest of the maintenance division would miss him, he was sure. Well, maybe not him directly but definitely the results that he consistently provided them. He was sure the Robotics Manager would have kept him down here another four cycles if he could. Or twenty. But luckily it wasn’t up to him. Jonathas got the sense that his promotion had come from higher up, somewhere deep within the organizational network of the Council.

He arrived back to maintenance level with fifteen minutes left on his shift. He was still a little wobbly on his feet and his pulse drummed against his temples.

"Are you alright, Jonathas?" asked Michael. His normally gruff voice contained a hint of sympathy.

Jonathas shrugged, his arms and neck tingling.

"Were you sick?"

He shook his head. “Not really.”

"Well you look like hell, man. Grab a seat." Michael pulled up a steel chair for him.

Jonathas stared at it, blankly. There was something else he should be doing, wasn’t there? He peered around the room, gazing at the stone floors and rock walls.

"Kid you're scaring me. Come on take a breather." Michael frowned and guided Jonathas into the chair.

Jonathas sat down, his eyes drifting down to the dark, spidery lines which now criss-crossed his arms and hands—a product of the nano-DNA infused in his blood.

He closed his eyes and half-slept, trying to shake the sensation that there were drones all around him, lurking in the shadows, threatening to burst through a rock wall and into the room.