Synthetics (16 page)

Chapter 21

Three attack helicopters touched down on the roof of the convention center. Within a minute a group of twenty mercenaries had cordoned off the area. Sasha stepped down from the center helicopter, with Frederick at his side, and stood waiting.

“Perhaps they got him,” said Frederick.

“No,” replied Sasha, “He is alive.”

As if summoned the door to the stairs opened and Fletcher strode out.

“Should I get the body?” asked Frederick.

“No wait.” Sasha walked forward to meet Fletcher.

The two titans stood face-to-face and toe-to-toe, surrounded by mercenaries.

“It’s over Sasha.”

“You could not do it?”

“No, I would not do it.”

“Then we must run,” said Sasha, “Come with us Fletcher. We can recover from this.”

“What about the loose ends?”

“They will be tied off eventually.”

“No!” Fletcher shouted, “It’s over Sasha. There is nowhere to run. They will blow you out of the sky if you take the helicopters.”

“They wouldn’t fire upon air force helicopters.”

“They know everything anyway Sasha. Someone talked. The secretary knew I was coming. This was all a set up. There is nowhere to run.”

Sasha looked about the rooftop. “They will cover our escape. We must try. The dream of CANA must not die here. We can still save humanity to…”

“No Sasha,” said Fletcher softly, “We few cannot save humanity, we can only save what is left of ourselves.”

“Fletcher,” said Sasha, “You cannot lose hope. This is but a battle in a much greater war. We will succeed.”

“It is not a war Sasha! We have played with men’s lives like they are pawns on the chessboard. I saw my reflection in the eyes of a child and I knew for certain that we had lost. You wanted to free humanity Sasha, but you have given up your own humanity in the process.”

“The child you speak of will die eventually Fletcher. Think of the grief it will cause. We can stop that.”

“She will die,” said Fletcher, “But she will love and laugh and cry. She will feel! And perhaps, before she dies, she will be content. Will you ever be content Sasha? You have been driven mad by your desire for a perfect world.” Fletcher stepped closer to Sasha and spoke softer. “I know you just want to help these people Sasha, but this is not the way. You must end this.”

Sasha looked up at the sky, frozen in thought. He then looked directly at Fletcher.

“I will end this,” he said in a low voice.

Placing his left hand on Fletcher’s shoulder, he drew back his right and delivered a blow to Fletcher’s stomach that sent him flying back across the roof.

Sasha waved his hand to his men, who started to spray Fletcher with bullets, and then walked back to his helicopter, Frederick following at his side.

“Take off,” he said to the pilot, “Head back to base.”

Just as the helicopter lifted off, security forces and soldiers streamed up the stairs. Flash bangs and stun grenades went off, temporarily blinding men and disorientating Fletcher. Firefights erupted as the security forces tried to dislodge the entrenched mercenaries.

“Take down the bird,” screamed Officer Sarah Watson from behind cover.

Fletcher rose to his feet, spotted Sarah and grabbed her by her vest.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled and tossed her down the stairs.

When she finally recovered her standing she just had time to see Fletcher sprinting across the roof.

“You crazy bastard,” she muttered to herself before heading back to the fight, “Just because I’m not a robot woman doesn’t mean I’m helpless.”

***

Fletcher pounded across the concrete roof, leaving a trail of spider web like fractures as he ran. Sasha’s helicopter was just clearing the edge of the roof as Fletcher planted his right foot and jumped. He flew out over the edge of the convention center, through empty air, until with outstretched arm, he grasped the rail of the helicopter. The chopper shuddered from the impact and veered precariously to the right, but still gaining altitude. Fletcher tried to pull himself up into the passenger space but was warded off by shots from Frederick, who had secured himself a rifle and was wielding it with worrying familiarity. Undeterred, Fletcher pulled himself to the rear of the chopper and with one sweep with his fist, shattered the stabilizing rotor. The chopper wined and started to spin. Shrieks of tearing metal cut above the engine roar as half of the tail came off. Fletcher looked down to find that he was directly above the roof of the convention center. The firefight still raged on, the roof now scarred by small arm fire and explosions. The mercenaries appeared to be advancing and driving the security forces back into the stairwell.

“Screw it,” said Fletcher to himself as he let go and plummeted fifteen meters to the roof below. If not for the concrete he would probably have gone straight through and continued falling. But he landed with a crunch and lay amidst a cloud of dust on a bed of cracks. He thought back to Samarra. Her eyes were green.

He lay on his back and watched the helicopter plummet erratically from the sky. He watched Frederick peer out over the edge and then jump. He landed on his feet with an impact that would have broken every bone in a human’s body and then started stalking towards the security forces. Fletcher watched him lay down suppressing fire, assault rifle held in one hand, while he flung terrified men about like ragdolls.

Fletcher rose, gaze still fixed on the crashing helicopter. Its final trajectory meant it would not crash on the roof, but miss by a mere foot, to plunge to the ground below. Just as it was about to pass the roof, Fletcher saw a metallic silhouette step out from the falling wreckage, to land in a dignified manner on the roof’s edge. Fletcher could barely detect the hapless pilot’s final cries as the helicopter disappeared from view.

Fletcher stood between Sasha and the two remaining helicopters. Upon a command from Sasha, Frederick also turned to face Fletcher.

“Come at me!” taunted Fletcher.

Sasha and Frederick slowly walked closer, ignoring the fray behind them.

“Stand aside Fletcher,” ordered Sasha, “That is enough.”

“No,” said Fletcher stooping down to recover two grenades from a fallen mercenary, “It is not quite enough.”

Sasha and Frederick stopped.

“It would be a shame,” said Fletcher, tossing a grenade up and down in his hand, “It would indeed be a shame if someone were to toss one of these little doohickeys into one of those helicopters.”

“What do you want Fletcher,” asked Sasha, “Money? CANA stocks?”

“No,” said Fletcher, “I want you to listen to me.”

“It’s too late for that now,” said Frederick taking a step forward, “The cards have been played.”

“Who are you anyway Frederick?” said Fletcher cheerfully, “You’re just this dog of Sasha’s how runs around on his leash. Who are you?”

Frederick took another step forward.

“Give me the grenades boy.”

“You’re very rude sometimes Frederick,” said Fletcher. He pulled the pin and lazily tossed the grenade at the nearest helicopter. It landed in the cockpit and exploded, showering sparks and shrapnel over the roof. Soon the helicopter was engulfed in flame.

“Only one left now guys.”

“What do you want Fletcher?” repeated Sasha.

“I want…”

Fletcher was interrupted by a charge from Frederick who moved with surprising speed considering his mass. The grenade was knocked from his hands and fell to the ground, bouncing to a rest.

Fletcher let loose. He took the unbalanced Frederick by the arm and threw him into Sasha. They both tumbled to the ground in a mess of glistening limbs.

“Who are you Frederick? Do you even remember?” shouted Fletcher as he drove his fist into his side. He felt Frederick’s chest give a little where it had been split in Siberia. The metal was weaker where it had been repaired. Fletcher attacked the weak spot with both fists before stepping back and stomping his food down on Frederick’s chest. He was rewarded by the shriek of metal as the carapace tore open. Flames gushed out.

Before Fletcher could press his attack further, Sasha was upon him. Sasha gripped Fletcher by the neck, lifted him off his feet, and then drove him down into the concrete. Dust rose as Sasha wrenched Fletcher back to his feet. Sasha then placed his hand on Fletcher’s shoulder and pushed him down so that he was bent over. Sasha then brought his fist down on the back of Fletcher’s head, driving him to the floor. Sasha backed off, standing in front of the prone figure of Frederick, which still bled fire.

“I am stronger than you Fletcher,” shouted Sasha, “I made you.”

Fletcher rose to his feet slowly, his world spinning.

“Can’t you see yourself Sasha?” pleaded Fletcher, “We became monsters!”

“We became the least so that the rest might become great,” replied Sasha, “We are the saviors. The whole world will thank us one day for what we are doing.”

“No,” came a voice from behind Sasha, “They will not thank us.” Frederick was on his feet. One arm clutched over his side, the other holding the fallen grenade. “They already despise us.”

Sasha stepped away from Frederick.

“What are you doing?” Sasha almost looked afraid.

Frederick turned to Fletcher, “I do remember who I was Fletcher.” He turned back to Sasha. “And I can’t change who I was.” Frederick staggered closer to Sasha. “But though I might not be able to change who I was, I can still change who I am.”

Frederick lunged at Sasha and embraced him as if an old friend. He tore the pin from the grenade.

“That will not do anything to me,” said Sasha, struggling in Frederick’s arms.

“I know,” replied Frederick simply. He turned his head to Fletcher and said, “Run.”

Sasha looked on as Frederick tore the gash in his side wider still, the sound of shrieking metal piercing through the air. Frederick retrieved the grenade from his other hand and thrust it into the gash.

“Frederick,” said Sasha, “Do not lose hope. You can still…”

“I consider my debt to you is paid.”

The rooftop was silent, all that could be heard was Sasha saying softly, “I am sorry friends… I truly am.”

Then the grenade exploded and the fusion reactor inside of Frederick went critical. It was as if the world breathed in, sucking in all the sound, and then breathed out with a roar. Fletcher was already running, dropping from the roof as the blast reached him. He was carried through the air by the shock wave and tossed to the ground a hundred meters from the convention center. He looked back to see the entire complex collapsing in upon itself. Fletcher watched in horrified fascination as another explosion sent debris-flying high into the sky.

“I am sorry friends,” said Fletcher, echoing Sasha’s last words, “I truly am.”

Chapter 22

Officer Sarah Watson surveyed the carnage from the safety of a police barricade. She had ordered her security team to withdraw, opting to wait for the military to deal with it; her decision saved a lot of lives.

“Ma’am, a sniper team say they have eyes on a synthetic, they are ready to engage.”

“No,” said Sarah, “We’ll let the military take it from here. Besides, he might be a friendly.”

“They say he’s outside of the military’s cordon, he’ll be lost if they don’t engage now.”

“Tell them to hold their fire.”

“I’m sorry, they say they won’t let him run. They are engaging.”

“Hell,” growled Sarah, “I’m going over there. Where are they set up? They’ll lose their jobs for this.”

***

Fletcher started walking slowly back to the ruined convention center. He knew the Secretary had gotten every one out, but he was worried about Sarah. She might still be trapped in the rubble. He was limping again, even though he didn’t need to. He was within a hundred meters of the rubble, when a fifty caliber round caught him in the shoulder, sending him spinning. Staggering to regain his balance, he turned back to the rubble and raised his hands.

“I’m with you!” he shouted.

He heard the crack of a rifle and a split second later he felt his head snap back. The bullet had hit him on the check and shattered, scoring deep burnt out scars in his metal skin.

“Don’t shoot!”

He started to step backwards as another shot thudded into the ground before him.

The next bullet hit him in the chest. This time it didn’t shatter but penetrated his carapace. Fletcher tore the deformed slug from his chest and threw it to the ground. Why were they shooting at him?

Before he could turn to run he was hit in the hip. He collapsed to his knees, stabilizing himself with his arms. The next bullet hit him in the neck. He started to wonder if it was possible for him to lose consciousness, because his vision was starting to blur.

“Stop,” he said softly. He felt heavy, like gravity had multiplied. “Stop.”

He waited for the next shot. He imagined the snap of the rifle, the flaring of the muzzle, the angle of the trajectory. He waited for the shot but it never came. Getting to his feet, Fletcher turned from the debris and ran.

***

Fletcher ran to the only place he knew- CANA. He stumbled in through the foyer, past a stunned clerk, and trudged up the encircling stairs. He reached Sasha’s office, shouldered open the locked door and strode to the picture window that covered the entire back wall. Fletcher kicked the glass, which instead of shattering like he expected, popped from its frame and plummeted to the distant ground below. Fletcher sat down on the edge, his legs dangling over empty space with his head resting on the frame. He looked out over the great city of Washington and his hulking body started to shake softly. They were gone.

“There you are Fletcher.”

Fletcher did not move.

“Too tell you the truth,” said Cole, taking a seat at Sasha’s desk, “I didn’t think I would find you alive.”

“They’re dead,” said Fletcher, “Sasha and Frederick.”

“I know Fletcher.”

Fletcher turned to face Cole, who was sitting cross-legged with a remote resting on his lap.

“The Secretary was never in any real danger, was he?” Fletcher thought back to Secretary Cosworth’s lack of fear as they faced each other, just an hour before.

“He just looked at me, his hand in his pocket…” Fletcher looked back to Washington. “He had the remote, didn’t he? He had my number. All he had to do was flick the switch and I…” Fletcher’s voice trailed off.

“Yes,” replied Cole, “He had the remote.”

“You gave it to him.”

“Yes Fletcher, I did.”

“You told him everything. You betrayed Sasha.”

“I had to. He was like a Father to me, but he was out of control. I had to stop him.”

“Why not just shut us all down?” asked Fletcher. There was no anger in his tone. “It would have saved a lot of trouble.”

“Sasha did not have a number and Frederick was never fully integrated. The Secretary assured me that he could get through to you. He…”

“I don’t care Cole, none of this matters. CANA does not matter. Deal with your own conscience.”

“Perhaps the world just isn’t ready for something like CANA. For something like you.”

Fletcher shrugged his shoulders and still looking at the skyline said, “You killed her didn’t you Cole. You killed Kate.”

“What reason could I have to…”

“You always say that Sasha is like a father to you, but you don’t share the same blood. Kate shares the same blood with Sasha. She would have inherited Sasha’s estate. Once she was out of the way you moved on to the investors, all the while playing the good guy. Whose idea was the numbers Cole? It sure doesn’t seem like Sasha’s. And finally with the investors gone there remained Sasha himself. And now with him gone, who do you think stands to inherit CANA in all its entirety, with all it’s billions of dollars of assets?”

Cole bowed his head.

“I do,” said Cole softly, “But what happened to Kate was…”

“An accident?” cut in Fletcher, “What are the odds Cole? An aggressive brain tumor, straight after starting…”

Fletcher cut himself off with his own laughter.

“But now there is only one loose end left isn’t there? Is that why you have brought your little remote along? Is that my number you’ve got there?”

“Fletcher, you have it all wrong.”

“Still playing the good guy Cole?”

“None of this was what I wanted!” shouted Cole, rising from his seat. “None of it! I do not even want CANA!”

“So you’re gonna sell it all off piece by piece aye? You could make quite a bit of profit that way couldn’t you?”

“I’m sorry Fletcher, but you are wrong. The world is not ready for CANA. It is not ready for you…”

“So you have to shut me down?” Fletcher finally turned to face Cole. “Look at me Cole. Look at me and tell me that you didn’t kill Kate.”

Cole stared at the scarred and burnt metal body that was Fletcher. They held each other’s gaze until Fletcher laughed and turned back to the vista before him.

Cole took a breath and paused. Then without turning his head, he looked out at the Washington cityscape and said, “Fletcher, I did not kill Kate.”

Fletcher shrugged in reply. “Do it,” he said. The sun was low in the sky. Turning him from silver to gold. “Do you think she will forgive me?”

“Who?” asked Cole.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you ready Fletcher?” asked Cole softly. His eyes glistened with tears.

“To die? This morning I thought I was,” replied Fletcher, “But now I know I am.”

“I’m sorry Fletcher.”

“Aren’t we all?”

With trembling hands, Cole raised the remote and flicked the switch. Fletcher’s body went limp and slid from the window. It plummeted like a ragdoll to the car park below.

Cole screamed in anger and grief as he threw the remote down after the metal carcass.

***

Cole stood in front of CANA, police officers behind him, Secretary Cosworth beside him, and more than a hundred members of the press arrayed before him.

“This can be considered the final statement to be released by the CANA Institute,” said Cole. He stumbled over the words. “In light of today’s events, and as the sole shareholder in this company, we will begin the liquidation of all of CANA’s assets in this country and abroad. Secretary Cosworth has agreed to supervise the undertaking to give the American public peace of mind. CANA was an ambitious project but failed due to a lack of transparency and accountability. As an apology to the general public I will personally fund the rebuilding of the Convention Center, as well as compensate anyone who feels that they were wronged in the recent events. Thank you.”

Before he could leave Cole was stopped by a question from the crowd.

“But what about the other synthetics, what will happen to them?”

“They have all been deactivated,” said Cole.

“You mean they’re not dead?” asked the reporter.

Cole eyes flicked back to the towering CANA complex before replying, “No not all. One remains abroad and unaccounted for.”

“Will you find him?”

“Perhaps, one day. He is harmless.”

After another fifteen minutes of questions, Cole was able to slip away.

***

“Lana!” called Missus Sanders, “There’s someone here to see you.”

Lana appeared a moment later; toy dog tucked under one arm.

“You remember Secretary Cosworth, don’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Alana, staring up at the grizzled man with his big moustache. “We are both friends with the robot man.”

“Yes,” chuckled the Secretary, “Indeed we are. Might I come inside and talk?”

“Oh certainly, certainly,” said the doddering Missus Sanders, “I’ll put the pot on, while you two chat.”

Alana led the Secretary to the lounge and they sat opposite one another. Alana set her toy dog down on her lap.

“Now Alana, I have a very important question for you. The answer of which, you must promise me to remember your entire life. Can you promise me that Alana?”

Lana nodded and looked up at the Secretary suspiciously.

The Secretary crouched down and asked, “Alana, who is your father?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, “he left.”

“Now Alana, I am the Secretary of Homeland Security for the United States of America. Do you know what that is?”

“No,” said Lana with wide eyes.

“Well it means I’m a very trustworthy man and you can trust what I say. Okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Your father is called Fletcher James Harris, and Alana?”

“Yes?”

“Your Father was a fine young man and a hero. You can trust me on that. Do you know what made him into a hero?”

Alana shook her head.

“He became a hero because he loved you so much.”

Alana hugged the toy dog tighter.

“So Alana, who is your Father?”

“He is a hero,” she replied with a bright smile, “My dad is a hero.”