Chapter 5

Genesis

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

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"Dread."

Overmind's synthesized voice broke Dread's reverie, bringing him to the present. "What is it, Overmind?"

"Soaron unit reports that Blastarr's remains are scattered over a large area and will be difficult to recover. Time to regeneration is unknown."

Dread had been anticipating Blastarr might have suffered in the attack of the base, but Overmind's confirmation was still disappointing. Blastarr would be essential to the continued success of the New Order. While it would be feasible to build a new unit in the future, it would take time. It would be more efficient to repair Blastarr and install upgrades as necessary than to begin with an entirely new unit before the his own transfer into the online world was complete. The structure of the biodreads was unique, reliant upon the complex network of engrams used to create Overmind. Human subjects were becoming scarce.

He had expected Power's base to be empty for Blastarr's attack, assuming that the entire team was aboard the ship spotted by the observation units. It had been an error in judgment, and it soon became an issue when Jennifer Chase confronted Blastarr in the halls of the base. She had ruined the plan by manually activating the self-destruct sequence in the base, but the situation was still salvageable.

Dread brought Soaron's image up on the status screen. He felt a surge of determination that every detail would be fulfilled his way, because destiny had told him it was to be.

Soaron appeared on the screen, mid-flight over its assigned quadrant – Power's former base of operations.

"Soaron," Dread commanded, "you will recover as much of Blastarr as possible."

"The task will be difficult, my lord," Soaron explained dispassionately, its voice whining over the comm. "The blast radius of Power's base is large."

"Unacceptable," Dread countered sharply. "Recover Blastarr's remains. Use whatever means necessary."

"As you wish, my lord," Soaron replied with a slight dip of its head.

"What of Youth Leader Chase? Have you recovered her remains and the powersuit?"

"My lord," Soaron said, "all scans for organic remains have been negative."

Shock rippled through Dread. "What?"

He had been envisioning the scene of the traitor's demise that he knew would hurt Jon Power to the core. Even a blast of that magnitude should have left some remnants of vulnerable human flesh in the remains.

"No organic matter has been detected on sensors."

While not a critical point of his plan, he had been looking forward to dissecting the hardware that protected Power's team. Without the suit, there would be no advantage to be gained. More than that, he relished the thought of a worldwide broadcast displaying her body for all to see, especially Jon Power. Still, it could only mean one thing.

"So," said Dread more to himself than Soaron, "Power did make it back. He's more resourceful than expected." He addressed Soaron again. "Continue Blastarr's recovery and report to Volcania as soon as you have found all that you can. I want that base secured."

Dread lay on his back in the surgical room as workers prepared him for cryostasis. He anticipated the moment when the body he had would be gone and his world would be the ecstasy of cybernetics and perfection.

Two workers began disassembling his skullcap, carefully removing the ocular device over the right eye that had been destroyed in his confrontation with Stuart Power. He thought about Stuart, allowing himself permission to contemplate what his former research partner would think of the state of the world. He would allow himself that luxury of weakness while human hands touched his head to prepare him for the cerebral transfer.

Both he and Stuart believed machines were the answer to bring about peace in the world, except that Stuart did not see the ultimate perfection machines could bring. He had no vision of the flawlessness of a machine world, where mathematics and logic were the language and he was the ruler. He would command perfection because, soon, he would be perfection. War would no longer be an option because it was illogical. Mathematical computation would determine the strongest, the fittest most deserving to survive. Human emotion would no longer be a factor in determining the victor.

The process was simple, really. It was a matter of finding uninterrupted time to complete the transfer. Jon Power's team was always interfering with his plans, alcways trying to salvage humanity when it should have known to give up the fight.

Dread took a pleasure even he admitted bordered on perverse in knowing Youth Leader Chase had been brought to machine justice. He reveled in the pain it must have caused the rebels. Power may have recovered her body, but she had been summarily vanquished by her own hand. In the end, she had brought about her own death as a result of her lack of vision, by her humanity. She had failed, much to his disappointment, to see the ultimate reward of a world ruled by machines and their intellectual perfection. She would have been an asset to his empire. He even envisioned the glorious moment when she might be a part of it. He had not been blind to her abilities. She was gifted. Up until she betrayed his empire, she had been a beacon of the next generation of youth, leading those around her to victory over the savage remains of the human race.

Assuming there was anything left for Power to recover, it was not likely a pleasant sight. The notion softened, if only temporarily, the sting of losing Blastarr from his ground forces. If Soaron could find enough of Blastarr, the ground attack unit could be regenerated with the right resources. He would see to it personally once his transfer to the cybernetic world had been completed.

The cool air of the ventilation system hit his skin as the cap was removed from his face. He winced as it assaulted the painfully sensitive skin that lay damaged under the shell. His vision went dark in the right orbit as the mechanical eyepiece was lifted away from its seat. The lens provided him with information the human eye could only imagine. He could magnify the tiniest object, discern heat signatures, or see light spectrums all with a thought. That was something that only a machine could do, something only possible through perfection and a complete willingness to take that final step into a new existence.

Inasmuch as he did not want to admit it, he feared his own death would result during the transfer. Accidents were an accepted part of research and an accepted part of the scientific pioneering that had propelled the human race into new realms of technology. Without loss, there could never have been gain. Experimentation – literally the taking of chances with the unknown – tempted the lines of fate and destiny. Those who survived experimentation achieved destiny. Those who did not met fate. Dread's survival was a sign to him that he was one bound for destiny, not fated to die as the organics were. They were filthy, unfit for existence. He was perfection in the making.

Still, he considered the idea that not all circumstances were equal in the scientific world. He, himself, had manipulated the environment to experiments in order to achieve the most advantageous outcome. The others who worked with him in the early research days did not understand that, in order to move forward, it was necessary move past trivial points like safety to get to the final product. Dread knew what had to be done, but the others had not yet caught up to his vision of the future. His fellow researchers would meet their deaths with the rise of the machines a few short years later. Stuart Power wanted to follow government rules where engrams were concerned. Lyman Taggart knew time was being wasted when all projects like Soaron and Blastarr needed was that one small step to become a reality.

Just as Dread had bent the laws of probability and science for his own benefit, he weighed the possibility that Overmind might do the same while he was incapacitated during the transfer. After all, he was the foundation of Overmind's programming, an imprint of Dread's brain put in machine form. Overmind could learn. That feature was vital when it was built. It had to have the ability to calculate, to adjust to new input and new events that fell outside known parameters. It had to think.

Thinking was just what it had been doing over the last few months. Overmind had gone so far as to enlist Lackki as a spy. Dread had suspected the android was conducting surveillance on Overmind's behalf. To what end, though? He cycled through the possibilities, but none of them aligned correctly with Overmind's abilities to think so independently. It was still a program, one capable of being terminated.

One incident nagged at Dread, and it had repeated itself to him since the Icarus impact. Overmind had complained of pain. Its systems had been damaged, yes. What was disturbing was the fact that the machine equated the damage to pain, a physical sensation. He had been careful to monitor Overmind's level of sentience, but he could not help but worry that something had been missed. A fully sentient Overmind meant that it was as untrustworthy as a human being and subject to emotion.

Ironically, Dread was about to place his life in Overmind's virtual hands. He did not do so without safeguards, though. Dread had been the driving force behind Overmind's creation. As with anything he created, he included failsafe measures to guard against his demise at the power of his innovations. He was reminded that his creations were becoming more complex. Even Blastarr had equated damage to pain. He could not dismiss the possibility that Overmind was transferring its traits to the biodreads, thus creating a problem. The complexity of the machines was bordering on consciousness, and that line of sentience was fast approaching. Independent thinking was an asset only if it could be controlled. He wanted his machines to make decisions on their own, but he did not want them straying from his vision of a perfect machine world.

Overmind gave the appearance of dangerous thinking by using Lackki as a spy. If Dread had realized there was reason to monitor Overmind outside the devices already in place, he might have done the same. The equalizing factor was that both he and Overmind desired a total annihilation of organic existence. Organics were a disease, an imperfect lot who allowed emotion to get in the way of domination. Coexistence was not an option. The machines would prevail, and they would do so with Dread's transfer to the electronic world.

Up to that point, Overmind had only approached the line of sentience. Dread would make it a reality. He would do so in a way that contradicted the theoretical model feared by so many scientists through the ages. It was not that a machine would gain enough knowledge to become like a human being. He would be the human being that would become the machine. The concept was glorious to him, for it even went against concrete science that had so far governed the evolution of man and machine. He was already powerful enough to change all of that. He was ready and able to cross the line that Stuart Power despised and found so perilous.

Perhaps the strongest motivating factor for the cerebral transfer was that Dread's body was failing. The biological part of him was suffering from the effects of cybernetic implants meant to keep him alive. They were a stopgap measure to sustain him. The equipment was never meant to be a permanent fixture on his body. His loyal machines had done their best to fix the damage, and they had done well. Soon, he would reward them with a new insight, with new and dynamic leadership that they would understand and embrace. The organics would see a new level of power unsurpassed in history, where machines would finally rule and perfection would reign.

Death was imminent to most, but not to Dread. He would live forever, knowing that his human form was fallible and subject to rot in the earth, but his mind would be eternal. His knowledge would only increase, and his power over the machines would be absolute. No matter Overmind's interference, Dread would assume full power, a regime of his own design. That was his destiny. Overmind would soon learn which entity held real power once the transfer was complete.

The workers continued preparations around him, doing their human best, shallow as it was, to follow all the procedures set forth by Overmind. A twinge of apprehension flitted through him. He realized that he was toying with not only immortality but also his human mortality. There was the lingering percentage of failure in the procedure that would ultimately result in his death, leaving Overmind to rule the machine world. Had Overmind done anything to increase those odds? Of that, Dread was uncertain. He had gone over the process in private, installing safeguards so that Overmind would be limited to routines to fulfill the transfer. He could not dismiss, however, the possibility that Overmind would override those protocols and sabotage the project. Dread counted this as a reality because he knew if positions were reversed, he might do the same. He smiled inwardly at the irony. It was very true – he and Overmind were one in the same.

A monitor line was installed on Dread's chestplate of electronics, relaying his biological information to Overmind. A confirmation of signal was given on the screen, a series of beeps and a repeating green spike reiterating his heartbeat and vitals. He noticed his pulse was quicker as the time approached for the procedure to begin. He ordered his body to relax, to give no semblance of nervousness that might cause the organics to doubt his destiny as their ruler, no matter how short their lives might be once he assumed his new form. As good measure, he would have the workers in the room with him eliminated. There was no room for doubt in his new government, in his new empire.

"Dread," Overmind called. "It is time for the chamber."

Dread's hands clenched, as he lay prone on the gurney. He closed his eyes, assuring himself that this was how it should be, that this was the way to immortality.

"Have the ground forces been assigned?"

"They are in place," Overmind responded. "All standards are at peak efficiency."

Dread reached up with a bare hand and touched the mangled skin of his face, feeling the chiseled surface that had long since scarred from the wounds inflicted years earlier. His hair was gone, leaving him with a pale dome of flesh that repulsed him the rare times he dared look at it. It was the one thing he shared in common with Power and his team. He was revolting to the human eye. Machine eyes did not care, thus reinforcing the fact of their efficiency. The machine mind was not sidetracked needlessly by emotion or learned prejudice. Soon, his focus would be on what mattered, and his body would no longer be a source of distraction to his goals.

"Dread," Overmind called again.

Dread's eyes closed, blocking out the yellowed lights of the anteroom. He could see the blood vessels in his eye, red jagged streaks against a dark pink through which his blood flowed. Cell to cell, surrounded by plasma, running through a network of organic capillaries, he gave the process its due credit. The machine world was more complex, but he was its designer. No one agreed on just who or what designed the human body. He was certain, though, who was responsible for the machine world and the electronic form it took.

He was God.

"Overmind, begin the transfer."