But I have no choice but to obey. Ignoring Zen's questioning stare, I plug the v-drive into the port behind my ear. The interior of the jet chopper blurs as my mind transports into the infosphere. I make sure to retain my natural appearance as the virtual world morphs into place around me. I don't want to hear any insulting remarks from Kage about my cyborg proxy. I focus on appearing in my off-duty outfit of low-rise distressed jeans and junker jacket over a snug tank top.
We're in a location so deep in the infosphere that it doesn't technically exist. A sector guarded by the tightest security, attacked hourly by hackers that don’t even know Cyber Corp is paying them. Anyone who finds a weakness is paid handsomely. Then they end up dead or missing in a matter of hours, or so it's rumored. I wouldn't doubt it. There's no dark deed I wouldn't put past my captors. They are the most covert security force in the Territories, answerable only to their enigmatic Director.
Kage glances at me when I materialize beside him, but he says nothing. He simply walks in the direction of the Ministry Headquarters.
The massive building is fashioned in pagoda style, a tiered seven-story tower with multiple eaves, but constructed from glass and steel instead of traditional materials. Bright blue-white lighting illuminates the tiers and the antenna on the top of the tower. It is the only light in the general area. Everything beyond is pitch-black, like a night sky if stars didn't exist.
The doors open at our approach, revealing more darkness. We enter, and the sensation of motion and direction evaporate. I can't tell if we're moving or if the building is rearranging itself around us. I can't see Kage or anything else. I'm blind in the gloom, floating in the still waters of a black ocean. The only reason I don't panic is that none of it is real. In reality, I'm on a chopper jet going back to Haven Angeles. In here, anything is possible. Nothing is real. I'm simply in a loading program, waiting for the final manifestation. There is nothing.
Then there is the tree.
It materializes from nowhere like a dream. Scarlet leaves flutter on wide-spread branches, illuminated by a single beam of light from the ceiling. An invisible wind touches the boughs, gently rocking the branches. The sight is so unexpectedly beautiful that it takes a few seconds for me to see the bodies arranged at the base of the tree. Dozens lie prone, connected to the tree trunk by hundreds of thin cables. They look like part of the fragile ecosystem, as if they tumbled from the branches like dead fruit.
"The Collective," Kage murmurs. He stands beside me, though I never saw him arrive. He is just there, red lips parted as if in awe. "You have no idea how fortunate you are to see this day, Scyther."
I repress a shudder. "Who… are they?"
The tree shudders as if in response to my question. One of the discarded bodies slowly raises, twitching and jerking to a standing position. On closer examination, it appears to be an older model synoid; one of the eerie doll-like, uncanny valley creations before the creators perfected their design. The android is partly decomposed, much of the synthetic flesh eaten away, exposing its mechanical innards. Glowing blue eyes peer from a worn and weathered face that I can tell even now was once beautiful. Its lips part, mouthing words in a slightly off-kilter fashion.
"We are those who gave up their weak and finite physicality to form a collective consciousness. Undying. Ever-expanding. Without limitation. Your eyes gaze upon a perennial plant and believe it to be a tree. But it is what you do not see that makes it a tree. It is the network of roots, the association with nutrients in the soil, the underground ecosystem that ensures the tree's survival."
As the synoid speaks, a diagram is created, illustrating the words with glowing blue depictions of the root system under the tree. The lines thread to other, continuing to multiply until I'm surrounded by a systematic display that looks more like binary tree coding than a biological network.
When I look up, the tree transforms into code, scrolling ones and zeroes in pulsing red characters. The leaves stir as it continues its delivery through the surrogate body.
"We are the network that ensures humanity's survival. Cyber Corp is but one of the branches of the tree. We are integrated into every camera, every machine, every system in the world. We are the architects, the creators, the judges, the administrators that provide structure to your existence. We are the Collective."
I can't help but feel tiny and insignificant under the pressure of the place. The sensation of thousands of eyes focused on me, weighing and assessing is almost too much to bear. Kage stands silently behind me like an angel of death awaiting a deliberation of judgment. I get the eerie feeling as if I've been transported to some hellish realm, a digital underworld where the dead goes to have their minds assimilated into storage, reduced to bytes of data in an ever-expanding library of information.
"What… do you want from me?"
The synoid never blinks, staring with robotic eyes that somehow appear too intelligent for its weathered face. "Like any organism, our system is susceptible to parasites and viruses that infect and destroy. You are in a unique position to assist in our efforts to terminate such threats."
My hands clench into fists. "You mean Dabria."
"Dabria and her foolhardy rebellion are but a minor inconvenience. Had we wished to contain or destroy her, we would have done so already."
I'm not sure I believe them, but I don't dare voice the opinion. "Then why let her live?"
"Because we have examined the possible outcomes of her current path and determined that she can lead us to a much deadlier enemy."
A holographic projection of a man appears in front of me. I take in the obvious details: Tall, broad-shouldered, dark brown skin, close-cut hair so white it can't be natural. He's dressed in combat gear, and a pair of aviator sunglasses shield his eyes. His aggressive stance suggests a military or mercenary background. Normally someone of his type wouldn't merit a second glance, but there's something about him that stands out. He exudes a certain kind of menace that's hard to define. But right away I know he's a killer. Not the common type that might kill for survival, not even the kind that kills for sport.
He's the type you send to slaughter everything that moves.
The branches stir, the leaves flutter. The synoid shudders in response before continuing its delivery. "Ethan Kilgore. A veteran of the controversial Youth Recruitment Program, and a volunteer for the Elite bio-enhancement procedure. A highly successful agent of the HSSC, specializing in covert operations before volunteering for a dangerous super-Elite procedure and leaving the planet for military missions on Mars under the new name of Beowulf Kilgore, where he advanced to the rank of Captain. He reportedly went insane on Mars after an incident with unexplained phenomena. Upon his arrival back on Earth, he destroyed all traces of the Elite program, including killing every person involved. Since then, he has focused on personal vendettas, all involving mass murder and destruction. Unlike most enemies of the state, he easily evades surveillance and can inexplicably travel distances at rates that defy logical explanation."
The glowing eyes of the synoid stare at me, devoid of emotion. "Kilgore and Dabria both resurfaced from lengthy absences within days of each other. We do not believe this to be a coincidence. They either have been working in conjunction or will soon be. We predict they will continue Dabria's mission to destroy the Immersion network and cripple the industry, wreaking financial havoc and causing immeasurable mental and emotional damage that will last for generations."
I say nothing, waiting for demands I know are coming. Speaking will only lengthen an outcome that I can do nothing about anyway. I can refuse the Collective the same as I can refuse Kage. Which is to say not at all.