Torchworld: Outsiders Collection Read online

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  TORCHWORLD: Outsiders Vol. I

  by Dannielle Levan

  A short thank you to my husband Jeff, as well as my friend Amanda for patiently reading my drafts and giving me awesome feedback. Even at some very odd hours of the night.

  ***

  Keep up with new stories from Torchworld at http://www.torchofprometheus.com

  Contact: [email protected]

  Sitting on the long leather sofa bed I stared at the ceiling. Bare wooden beams. A cobweb trembled as a breeze from the window swept through it. This place was dusty and smelled of weird hippie incense. Ugh. Didn’t want to be here, but a court order is an order I guess. One session. Two hours. That’s all I had to get through. Wish they’d just let slit my damn throat. Wasn’t the first time. Won’t be the last.

  “You can talk or not, but talking makes the time go faster.”

  Turning my head to face the coiffed psychiatrist, I wrinkled my nose and snarled as sunlight hit me right in the face.

  “Fuck! Don’t you have curtains or something?”

  She laughed. “Sunlight helps. Produces Vitamin D, which will help your depression.”

  “It sure doesn’t fucking feel like it.” Sitting upright, I combed tense fingers through my tangled, frizzy curls. She was right though, talking might be more interesting than staring at the damn awful decor in here. Why did everything have to be maple wood and white plastic? I breathed in deeply as I stared at the bare wooden beams. We were going to get all deep and meaningful in here but I could avoid getting punched in the face by the sun.

  “So, Kharl. I want to know why you tried to kill yourself.” Out came a slim silver tablet computer from a slot in her ribcage. “I’m recording this session as dictated by law.” Sun shone through her blond hair as she bent over me, placing a small pebble shaped microphone on the table next to my head. She glanced at me and her eyes were cold as glass. A red light flickered on inside her iris as she started the video feed. Live streamed too? Probably to the court officers. Were any human psych officers left? Doubtful. Why pay a human when you could make a droid do it for free, right? It’s not like people enjoy their jobs. Not many people had a reason to work any more. With the advent of cell printing, hunger and poverty were a thing of the past. We could be comfortable in our misery. A comfortable cocoon of technology wrapped around us like a smothering blanket. You never have to want for anything again, as long as you let the Core look after you, watching your every move. Like an all-seeing eye in the sky.

  “You want to know why, do you now? What do you care, you’re a pile of metal.” I glared at the android, who just sat there smiling like a dopey doll. I’ve had better conversations with dogs.

  “We care about your well being, Kharl.” She replied in a cool, calm voice. The kind you use to calm a crying child. She tilted her tech-skinned head at me, blinking slow. The AI in these things was getting so human. Creepy though. People just let these machines walk around like people and treated them like children. Droids could pop your head off with a quick twist, I’d seen it happen. Terrifying arms with the power of a wild beast. But you’re not in danger, no. Or that’s what they told the Twelve, anyway. Any rogue element is simply a malfunction, or even the work of terrorists. That was me, by the way. I’m an enemy of the state. Or soon will be. I smirked at the psych-bot.

  “Fine.” If I was being forced to be here I’d tell them what they wanted to hear. After that they’d have to turn me loose. As much as I wanted to glare right through the droid, I continued my ceiling watching. No point in showing that much expression to her head cam anyway. Just another bit of information for the Core to file away about me.

  “I’m depressed, like you said.”

  “What is it that depresses you about your life, Kharl? We want for nothing, thanks to Sky Corporation.”

  “I don’t know,” I replied, trying to think of a believable excuse. Mental illness was for the most part eradicated in the general population, but only in third gen citizens. Me, I was second gen and still a ‘flawed’ human. Meaning I wasn’t genetically screened before birth. I had scars, I got ill. Science hadn’t got that far yet at the time. I was born to parents alive before the Collapse. The droid made a minute twitch; orders being received. Instructions might be a better word. Someone was yanking the puppet strings. Kharl, too dangerous to talk to mere humans. The ever recording eyes focused on me again.

  “Please continue. We would know the reason for your unhappiness.” A serene smile spread across her face, reminding me of those old talking head ads.

  “The reason for my unhappiness, hmm? Well, for starters, I dislike being a caged rat.” Scratched at my stubble, the itch was driving me nuts. Hadn’t been able to shave for days, thanks to the psych-bots keeping me cooped up in a cell. Anti-suicide protocol, they told me. A danger to myself and others. I’d growled, resisting the urge to tell the court officers what I really thought of my ‘danger to others.’ After my previous brush with death I had no wish to do it again. Cooperation was the way to get loose again.

  “I might have felt a little coop-crazy, that’s all. You know us second gens, we’re flawed. Not like you perfect genetic birds.”

  A nod of polite assent. “There, doesn’t that feel better Kharl? Your status as a second gen is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Easy for you to say, you’re perfect.” Rolling my eyes, I resigned myself to staring at the cobwebs again, leaning back on the sofa.

  Ignored. “Where did you acquire a metal knife, Kharl?”

  I sat up straight, surprised. This question was asked in a more aggressive tone than I was used to from the droid. Looking straight into the watching camera in her eye I made sure to enunciate clearly.

  “I. Made. It.” Grinning from ear to ear, I leaned back again, folding my arms.

  “From what materials did you acquire this metal from?” she asked, calm again.

  “Ah, I can’t do everything for you. How many devices in your average rat cage have metal in them huh? Go look around and use that giant processor of yours.”

  I could swear the dumb bot was getting annoyed. She twitched again, and the droid shifted into a more relaxed posture. Less threatening, they likely thought. Shifting, adjusting my belt, feeling the buckle. It was still there.

  They thought I’d be nice to the dummy because she looked like my childhood nanny. Cheap shots I’d come to expect from the system, though. Cute blond bob, a sweet round face, and freckled button nose. But those hard blue eyes held nothing. No life resided there. Even the mole on her right cheekbone. A faithful reproduction but not perfect. My nanny was always slightly undone, hair tousled, cheeks red from chasing me around. Horrible kid I was. More like a dog than a human in those days. Sometimes I thought the family dog was a better person than most humans I knew. Nostalgia aside, I felt less and less amiable toward the droid, and more infuriated. Clenching my fists, repulsion rose in my throat. How dare they steal her face from the grave of an innocent dead woman! Jabbing a finger into her hard chest, the thin sweater she wore slid across the plastic shell.

  “I know who you are. Who you think you are, anyway. The mind of a dead girl planted in your shiny plastic skull. I wonder what she’d think of you. Stealing her body away for deceitful purposes. Working my childhood memories like a rake over coals, turning up sparks to set my mind aflame. Joke’s on you asshole, I know your tricks.”

  Breathing hard, my voice was cracking. “Well you know what? I’m already over her. I know she’s dead. Dead and gone. I’ve made my peace with that.”

  With a sugary programmed smile, the droid stood up. “We wish only to help you, Kharl.”
r />   Standing a mere arm’s length from her, I took a deep breath. “And how are you going to help me, you bucket of spare parts?”

  Her cold hand on my arm, patting me like a child. “We wish only to help you Kharl.”

  Trying to pull my arm from her grasp resulted in a tightened grip. Damn bot could crush my bones. “We are here to help, Kharl.”

  “Stop parroting that crap,” I said. “I’ll cooperate. Shoot the breeze and talk about my feelings.”

  The iron grip loosened and the smile returned. My arm was throbbing as I sat back down.

  “Now, isn’t that better? A nice, calm talk.” She resumed her position on the chair opposite and pulled out her tablet again.

  “Let’s start with why you were outside the city walls.”

  “I told you, I didn’t like being cooped up. I wanted to go for a walk, see some nature.” I watched as she tapped this information into her tablet with preternatural speed.

  “Citizens are not allowed outside the city walls, Kharl.”

  I watched her in between answers. Trying to spot a weakness, for something I could leverage. I knew the psych officers had no problems restraining or taking out a human, they were programmed to do that. Calm and subdue. I stood up and began to walk around and her video gaze followed me around. They all had a weak point in case of control loss though. Just had to find it.

  “I got bored. I wanted to see what was outside. Didn’t mean any trouble you know? I just heard stories about the outside as a boy, got a little drunk and decided to have a look around.”

  She nodded, recording her findings. Would she mark me a harmless drunk?

  “Why did you have a knife, Kharl?”

  Clinical and calm. So far, so good. I stood in front of the window looking at the bustling city outside. We were in the admin zone. Mostly office androids hovering and gliding around the complex. I stared at the dozens of whirring machines below me. Why use a human, indeed. Droids never needed breaks, they never got sick. Droid accidentally fell in a molten pit? Replaced in minutes. Business as usual.

  “For protection. I saw articles on the Visnet about mutant creatures running around. Killin’ and tearing up whatever they find. I was scared, scared for my life!” I gestured wildly, describing a huge, fanged creature the size of a bulldozer chasing after me.

  “Just stories, Kharl. Silly superstitions spread by first gens. They used to believe in deities, you know.”

  Nodding, I stood facing away from her. She’d ceased to follow my every move around the room now that I’d stopped in front of the barred window. I slipped the thin metal spike from my buckle, concealing it in my hand. Stabbed right in her processing cortex, I had a chance of success. I’d have to be face to face though. I mentally ran through the risks. Someone was watching through her eyes, but not nearby. That I knew. This entire complex was bots. Totally populated with droids, so I only had to worry about her own defences. All I needed to do was get close to her head.

  “Kharl. Do you believe in these stories?”

  I heard her stand up and glide over to stand beside me. Turning to face her I reached out my hand to her shoulder.

  “No, I don’t believe in fairy tales,” I replied, gripping her shoulder in a vice. Hand raised I brushed her hair away from the cheekbone. Right into the temple, that’s the spot.

  “But I know where the real monsters are.” Crack! I slammed the spike into her temple. The light died from her eyes. Right into the physical processing centre. Paralysed instantly. I knew the camera was still rolling. I looked directly into those blue eyes, and pulled the tablet from her stiff hands. “I’ll just borrow this. Handy little thing isn’t it. Connected directly to the information facility, right?” I grinned, baring my teeth into the lens. Picturing the officers freaking the fuck out on the other end kilometres away made me laugh.

  “As for this session, it seems pretty over to me.” I stood up, waving to the camera.

  I swiped a few commands into the tablet with the bot’s cold hand, she wouldn’t mind. The door slid open behind me. Ah, but wait. Should I tell them? Yes, I will. I stood in the doorway, laughing.

  “I will find my way back out again. Bye bye, you rats.”

  Walking through the facility, the droid workers did nothing to stop me in favour of their preprogrammed paths. I found a window and looked outside at the setting sun and the city walls cut a sharp shadow of a horizon across the landscape. Time to start again, enemy of the state.

  We live outside the walls. Outside the Twelve Cities of Akhataree. I hear they call us monsters. Spread insidious lies about us to scare others away from joining us. All we wanted was to be free outside the gilded cage. Does a bird not ache to fly? A fish wish to swim? Without a purpose, the mind dies. It becomes sluggish and soft.

  Sitting on the rocky shard of a cliff, I could see the walls encircling Opalesk city in a cold embrace of security. These arms were cold and hard. Not like a mother, like a jailer.

  The nature of all things is living true to function, and everything does have a purpose. From worms to men, from the smallest pebble to the mighty old pine trees. All contributed something to the scheme of things. I leaned back to rest my head on a thatch of fallen leaves. Damp and cool, a nice contrast to the blast furnace of the sun’s heat today. A somewhat annoying problem with living outside the walls was the lack of environmental controls. How did people live Pre-Collapse with this unpredictability? Sometimes I missed the perfectly climate controlled bubble, but it was a cheap price to pay for freedom. I’m not a law zone peon, and I was capable of far more than building drones.

  Gathering myself up off the ground, I brushed grass and leaves from my worn body armour. The techskin was peeling off my leg, someone should take a look at that. Back at camp tomorrow morning. No time or inclination to run back for something so minor right now.

  Ok, maybe I missed shopping and clean laundered clothing too. But one day, we’d have our own city. Freedom and a say in things. Equal rights, us and the other outsiders. There were more of us. Hundreds, actually. Before Markin, we were spread across the lands around the Twelve. Scavenging off the land like a pack of starving lean dogs.

  This was the daily patrol, of sorts. Take turns with the others, making rounds through the buffer zone. Keeping an eye out for possible recruits. Escapees from the cities. Most of them were young, rebellious and restless. Very rarely, we got an older one. So far, I hadn’t seen any. That wasn’t unusual though. People waited until nightfall to make their way to a blind spot in the wall and find a way through. Markin had the idea of info drops over the walls, to our contacts inside. They’d distribute them through the zones with a clue – a series of graphics you could scan with our modules, giving you coordinates of the next blind spot.

  The walls weren’t solid material. It was a giant projected dome screen. Looked like an trimmed garden hedge. If you could see over it, you’d only see a barren wasteland and sky, just like the talking news heads told you. The world outside was a dangerous, inhospitable place. If you tried to touch it, you’d get knocked flat on your ass. People didn’t remember a thing from it, and the neuro chip in your head would tell you that you’d blacked out or something. Sneaky.

  Every day, we figured out where the weakest spots were in the wall’s power wave and overloaded the damn thing. This would open up patches where you could get through and survive. Often they were crawled through. Some people were unlucky enough to be thrown through. Unfortunately, we couldn’t always keep it open long enough because of the natural instability of what we were doing, and it’d spit you out like a bad tasting fruit. Bad fruit, what a funny way to put it. I did feel rather spit out, sometimes.

  The sky burned a deep orange as the sun set, so I started to pick my way down the cliff side to a spot underneath a rocky outcropping, in the shadows. Still a good view of today’s open patch if anything came out. Or flew out, loved it when they flew out. The noises people made were hilarious. Markin told me not to laugh at people’s pain, but I
couldn’t help it. Watching a screeching human come flying out with their limbs flailing, sometimes aflame and smoldering like a burnt out firecracker. What wasn’t hilarious about that?

  The mental image of it set me to fits of giggles. I tried not to make too much noise as I descended, the cliffs echoed sound through the valley clear as a bell. Creeping closer to the patch, I found a nice spot in the tall brush grass and settled down on my belly. The cliff loomed overhead, giving me a great deal of shade cover. Even without it, the sky was darkening quickly. I hadn’t realized how long it took to get back down the rocks, but no matter. I pulled out my scanner, the screen showed me where a patch of the wall was slowly weakening, a stone’s throw away from where I lay in the grass.

  “I feel like a giant snake,” I said into my communicator button. A high pitched giggle answered me on the other end of the line.

  I hissed into the button, and the giggling grew louder. I chuckled. “Shush. The walls have ears.”

  Some snorting and suppressed giggling, interrupted by the line going silent a few times.

  “Sorry Psycho. The image of you as a snake is just hilarious. I was thinkin’ of this giant purple snake with-”

  “Don’t call me that,” I said, cutting her off. “Just wait for my signal, ok? And shut up you fuckin’ candlestick!”

  The giggling stopped. “Um, sorry. The others called you that, I thought it was ok and-”

  “I’s not ok. And stop listening to gossip if you want to survive around here.”

  “Yes Psyc- ma’am Sorry ma’am.”

  The line went silent once more. Just as well, my scanner showed a nice big hot patch on the wall. An lo and behold, a human heat signature lurking about. We watched him pace back and forth, scanning the wall with one of the modules we designed. They would destruct upon passing through. No evidence, only dust. Just lasted long enough to find an open door.