The officer shoves me, knocking my ankles out from under me. I rack my kneecaps against the concrete and wince.
“Your father signed a contract with the Federation,” he says. “But it appears he has… disappeared.”
Disappeared? That means he never got out. He did what he promised he’d do. He let the world swallow him whole.
Did Kalxor escape?
Please tell me he escaped…
“My father hated me. He tricked me into coming here,” I say. “He tried to kill me.”
The officer forces his fingers around my chin. He pinches so hard I fall back. He doesn’t let go, and his breath stinks, hot, near my face.
“Don’t lie to your government,” he warns.
He lets stands over me, rolling his rifle against his chest.
“What makes you think I’m lying?” I ask.
“We know all about your time with Kalxor. We know your father brought you there to validate your life experiences. Frankly, I don’t give a shit. None of that information is what we’ve been ordered to take,” he says.
I feel a tear roll from my eye, so I bend my head and stare at the floor. “Then what is it you want?” I ask.
“Your father is somewhere inside that thing, but we can’t find a way in,” he says.
“It collapsed,” I admit. “The entire fucking simulation caved in on itself.”
He shakes his head and paces the room. “No,” he growls. “It isn’t destroyed. It turned into an all-knowing machine.”
A what?
I actually laugh, despite the danger of doing so in front of such an audience. “Do you know what you’re saying?” I ask. “You’re describing a deterministic system. A monolith of massive proportions. A God machine...”
“Yes,” he says. “And your father, the architect, has betrayed his planetary obligation. We need that system to continue our understanding of the universe. We need it to help people, Ava. Don’t you understand?”
His boots stop before my eyes, enough shine and shimmer to reflect my image back at me.
I’m bruised. Welts cover my face. Yes, they’ve done a number on me. And they wish to inflict more pain.
“You don’t want to help people,” I say. “You want to enslave people. You want to rob people of life, love, and freedom.”
The officer grinds his teeth. “Everyone has
a plan. Your father knew that best,” he says.
I can’t believe I’m going to say what I’m about to say.
“My father was kind hearted. You are nothing but a cog in the machine.”
I expect the next blow. This time, it doesn’t hurt as bad.
I feel courage rise within my chest. It helps me stand. It helps me face them.
“Are you saying you won’t help us dig through the system source code?” he asks.
“I’m saying go fuck yourself,” I mutter.
The officer chuckles softly, and I expect to feel another blow. Except, it doesn’t happen. And when another soldier steps up to the plate, the man puts out his hand to block him.