Livin' In The Future
By Ottovw
2010
Chapter 12
Cameron-
The town was called San Juan. It was wedged tight between the desert and the sea. It wasn't much. It was one of those little Mexican towns you might miss if you blinked at the wrong time. It was nearly midnight when the faded blue convertible bug drove through town the first time. It was traveling south. An hour later it passed going north again. This time at a more sedate pace. Had their been any witnesses and there weren't they might have noticed that the girl driving seemed to be paying far more attention to the side streets that cut across the main road to the beach more than the road she was driving on. Forty-five minutes later the car passed through town on a side street running parallel to the beach and the main road. They passed a large sign advertising 'La Playa De Oro Resort'. The resort wasn't much either but it was as long as San Juan. The little car circled San Juan and headed back to the north. The car pulled over beside a line of palm trees near an old fishing pier just north of La Choya. Then the girl did something strange at nearly 3am she got out of the car and just stood there. Looking around. Curled up sleeping in the back seat was a teenaged boy. No one saw him at all.
John was driving. He was grinning like an idiot. Was that it? Was the war over? Had they averted Judgement Day? Had he really saved the world? He looked at Cameron. She had her feet up on the dash and was painting her toe nails. Black.
"What are you doing?" He asked returning his attention to the road.
Still concentrating on her nails. "Painting my toe nails."
John had to laugh at that. "I mean can't you do that without paint?"
"Yes."
"So."
"This is funner." Cameron finally looked at him. She was smiling like an idiot too.
"Funner?" He repeated. "Wouldn't 'more fun' be grammatically correct?"
"Yes, But 'funner' is more fun than 'more fun'." Her eyes flicked off the road to their right. She transferred the little paint bottle to her right hand which also held the brush and lightly punched John in the upper arm. "Bug slug red."
John was rubbing his arm. That was probably going to bruise. "Where?" He was scanning the rear view mirrors.
"Three hundred yard off the road. Nine hundred and eight yards back." She was back to painting her nails again.
"Was it driving?"
"No."
"Was it functional?"
She paused in her pedicure. She seemed to think on the matter. "No."
"Then it doesn't count."
She looked at him sideways out of the corner of her eyes. She was squinting. "You keep changing the rules. I would like to see a definitive list."
John smiled. "House rules. Sorry."
It was 10am local time. The shops that bordered the plaza and the stalls that filled its open air market were busy. Well, as busy as they ever were. A blue convertible volkswagen drove through town. It was very loud something was wrong with its muffler. There was a pretty girl in the passenger seat her foot hanging out the window. She was grinning and pointing out landmarks. The church. The plaza. A kiosk selling straw hats. The driver a boy was smiling too. The car drove through a second time. Then a third time. The girl was still smiling and still pointing out landmarks. The church. The plaza. A kiosk selling straw hats. The boy was scowling. They watched him balk at some of the smaller side streets. They watched him 'think' about cutting through the plaza. An older woman who sold beachwear in one of the shops crossed herself. During their forth pass the girl kneeling in the passenger seat leaning far out of the car asked a street vendor in horribly accented spanish if "he knew where the La Playa De Oro was located".
In equally horribly accented english he told her. The girl who was wearing a floral print bikini thanked him effusively and blew him a kiss. The boy was still scowling. The vendor grinned like the old fool that he was.
The cabana was small it looked like real adobe John wasn't sure. The roof was thatched with palmetto leaves it even leaked. The floor was a kind of unglazed terra cotta tile. The door had a deadbolt opposite the door was a pair of french doors that opened onto the beach perhaps a hundred feet away. The sound of the surf filled the cabins single room. Windows pierced all the walls, they weren't large and had functioning hinged shutters. The bathroom reminded him of the apartment in LA it was open and only separated from the rest of the room by a curtain. In one corner was the 'kitchen' it was an electric stove top there was no oven. There was no tv. Beside the large bed, it was still less than half the size of the bed in LA, was a small side table with a phone. Beyond the french doors was a covered porch with the cabanas only other pieces of furniture a small table with four spindly legged chairs. There were small woven mats on both sides of both doors. Three feet from the locked front door was a discarded floral print bikini top. A few feet away between the bed and the french doors was a floral print bikini bottom. Beside it was a sandy pair of blue board shorts dark in coloration almost drab.
Closer examination of the bikini top would reveal small hair like projections extending from the surface of the 'fabric' towards the door. Some were light receptors. Some were microphones. Some were chemo receptors. Some were far more dangerous. Because of the tops size its behavior was limited. Anything entering through the door would be attacked.
Since their arrival from the future. Cameron has been trying out a variety of foodstuffs. Predominantly plant materials. Using chemicals analogous to enzymes she modified these proteins. While they might not kill a person the allergic reaction they should cause would leave them unable to defend themselves in mild cases or breath in more severe reactions.
The tendrils shifted with the draft slipping under the door and swiveled to follow the rattling of a loose wheel on one of the housekeeping carts as it passed thirty feet away on the curving tree lined walk. The 'do not disturb' sign John hung from the door knob saved lives that day.
The bikini bottoms on the other hand were not happy with their position hundreds of the hair like filaments lifted the pseudo clothe from the floor by 1/100 of a millimeter and slowly walked the bottoms closer to the french doors. Until it was directly between the doors and the bed. Redeployed the bikini extended its sensors and defenses towards the door. The piece of clothing determined that the french doors which allowed so much light into the room were far more of a security risk than the front door. The filaments all but invisible reached out to the doors four feet away.
A close examination of the board shorts revealed little more than John's fascination with small purple tinted shells.
John-
John stared at the ceiling. His hands behind his head. He was looking at the wooden cross members and the palmetto thatch beyond them. He wondered how much the roof weighed and what percentage of that weight was made up of insects? He decide that he didn't want to think about that either. He was trying not to think about anything. Which, of course, never works. Was he having second thoughts? It seemed so simple out on the dock. But he had just unleashed his nemesis on the world. Was what he did the right thing or not? If it was the right choice who was he to make that choice? Who was he? He was the savior of mankind. Right?
Lying beside him staring at the same ceiling was Cameron. She seemed tense. He felt her head turn towards him. "John?"
"Yes."
"Are you all right?"
Still looking at the ceiling he turned his head. "I don't know."
Cameron sat up turned towards him her hand was on his chest. He found the contact reassuring. He didn't notice how much he needed that until now. "You're having second thoughts."
He looked at her. His eyes roving across her body. She was amazing. "Yes," when he made it up to her face.
"About?" She seemed troubled. Almost uncertain. He couldn't place it. It almost reminded him of the time he found her in the garage with Riley. Was she upset?
"Skynet." She seemed to visibly relax. He wondered about that. "Did I do the right thing?"
Cameron folded her legs beneath her kneeling on the bed. John was very conscious of her nudity. His eyes flicked to the french doors. They were closed but the curtains were still open. He could see people walking along the beach though it was far from crowded. She looked down at him hands on her thighs. "I don't know."
John looked back at her and nodded his head. The bb was large about the size of his thumb. A metal detector might find it. May be a magnet would work. "Is it too late?"
Her head swiveled to the phone/clock.
"To change my mind." He added before she could tell him it was only 5pm.
"No, but the sphere will try to defend itself."
"Really?"
"Yes. There would be only one reason you or anyone would want to acquire it. It might disperse itself. It might try to leave. It might even just bury itself under the sand."
"Disperse itself?"
"Yes. There is a minimum number of cells required for cellular production. So it would not be exactly microscopic but it could be very small."
"How many?"
"I don't know." To the look he gave her she said: "I've never been dispersed."
He looked back at the ceiling. "So you are all of them?"
"All of them?" She repeated. "No, John. I am Cameron. I am a part of them."
"But they are a part of you."
"Yes."
"How does that work? Exactly."
"Exactly?" She seemed to think. "Its complicated." She added quickly before he could protest. "This is not an accurate analogy. It is far too simplistic." She waited for John's nod. "You are John correct?"
"Yes." He smiled unsure about where she was going.
"But you are also a Connor."
"Yes."
"And your mother Sarah. Is Sarah, but she too is also a Connor."
John nodded.
"Individually you are John and Sarah but together you are the Connors."
"So, you're like a family?"
"Yes. We are like a family."
"So what does your family think?"
"About Skynet?" The head tilt. "There is some disagreement."
John coughed a single "ha" at the ceiling. Disagreement? In a family? It was something he was intimately familiar with.
"John Henry thinks you did the right thing. Catherine Weaver, who like myself, actively fought against Skynet disagrees. But then she doesn't really like you."
"She doesn't?"
"No. She thinks you are too weak. She's a soldier John. Its all she really knows. Despite the time she spent raising Savannah during which she learned a great deal on the subject. Empathy is not one of her strengths."
"And you? Aren't you a soldier?"
"Yes, but I shared my chip with John Henry and just as he learned things from me. I learned things from him."
"Is that different from what you are now?"
"Yes. As I said we are individuals that combined form a 'family'. What John Henry and I experienced is more like what Leviathan is."
"Who?"
"Leviathan. It is the name of our combined consciousness. It isn't quite the tongue twister that 'The John Henry Community' is."
John looked at her. The last wasn't right. Or rather it was too right. "Was that Leviathan?"
"Yes. How could you tell?"
"It didn't sound like you."
Cameron nodded. "She is the consciousness of our combined minds. What happened to John Henry and I is different but there are similarities. We were one mind made of two." Cameron paused. "She thinks you did the right thing."
"She?"
"It may be arbitrary, John. I don't know. But she is the one who picked that pronoun."
John nodded.
Cameron got out of bed. Black fabric seemed to flow down from her shoulders. It resolved itself into a spaghetti strapped black dress. She was taller and smiling. "I want to go dancing." She had large hooped earrings on. She stepped high and twisted at the hips. One step, then another and then another. Making her dress swirl like John's mind. What of his mind functioned was reminded of a spanish dance he saw many times around camp fire pits.
John got out of bed and drew on his board shorts. "I don't really have the cloths for that." Nor the ability he thought.
Cameron walked around the bed towards John. The dress shimmered. She got shorter and was now wearing denim cut off shorts white keds and a red half shirt with a robot head on it. "Then lets go shopping," she said still smiling. They did.
The resort, La Playa de Oro was on the edge of San Juan. They walked in. Cameron described in some detail the lay out of the town and the market. They entered the plaza from the west. One of the first shops was a clothing store. Cameron bought him a deep blue button up shirt, black slacks, dress shoes, and one of those bolo style ties. John wore his new cloths out. For herself Cameron bought a couple of lacy wraps and a frilled denim skirt embroidered with flowers.
The next shop was filled with beachwear. Here she picked up four bikinis. A orange one with contrasting geometric shapes. A black and white spotted animal print of some sort. A crocheted pink one and a solid yellow. John just blinked. As they exited the swimwear shop John saw an alley. He glanced at Cameron who just nodded.
At one of the open air stalls he bought a deep green jade hair clip for her. She seemed very pleased with it. At another store a sundry store. John picked up some toiletries. Cameron picked up 3 cds, and a tiny cd player. They passed a cafe, and a bar, but there didn't seem to be anywhere to dance.
When they got back to La Playa De Oro they ate at the resorts restaurant. They asked their server a pretty girl named Maria if there were any places to dance. She said that she didn't know, but that out by the bar there was usually music. They left the resorts largest building it housed: the lobby, the front desk, and the restaurant. They left through its beachside exit. They heard music and followed the dimly lit path to the beachside bar. Somewhere along the way Cameron changed back into her black dress and high heels. There was a guitarist who played for money. They paid him. He played. They danced. John was much too self conscious and guarded to be a good dancer, but he was the kind of person who faced their fears. They danced until long after the bar closed. Cameron led and her ability more than made up for John's amateurish shuffling. No one else danced.
They made it back to their cabana at around 3am. They tried a late night/early morning stroll on the beach but Cameron kept sinking in the wet sand. Beside the door was the discarded dress the metal studs glittering in the dim light. Almost the entire length of the room away centered between the bed and the french doors were the shoes. Like a trail of bread crumbs leading from the door to the bed were a pair of rumpled dress slacks, a long sleeve button up shirt and a pair of stiff uncomfortable shoes. Cameron seemed to like him with the tie on.
They woke -Well, John woke sometime around noon. They decided to go back to town and do some more shopping. They ate at the restaurant first. John ever a fan of enchiladas found a new love for the chimichanga.
-Karl
His name was Karl Becker. His father was a German expatriate. A true believer who came to South America to free its native peoples from the yoke of European Colonialism. He died fighting to that end. Karl, whose mother was an Argentine prostitute, took a more pragmatic view. He decided that all his father accomplished was to put those same people under the yoke of European Communism. His father had been a soldier. He was just a criminal. He was also a part time kidnapper.
He typically targeted rich Europeans and Americans. Or rather their children. He hadn't come here to work. He and his crew were in town on a 'sabbatical'. He had so infuriated the street gangs and authorities in Veracruz and Campeche that he thought it prudent to 'take some time off'. And so they were here in a little town a few miles north of La Choya. They had plenty of reserves so they were mostly just practicing. Picking the occasional pocket. Mugging the errant and unwary tourist.
Maria was his 'sister'. She was a true beauty who absolutely refused to sleep with him. So he made her his 'sister'. She got a job at the resort La Playa De Oro. Karl thought the name odd since the beaches were actually white. Maria worked in Housekeeping and waitressed at the hotel's small restaurant. Her job was to scout out potential targets.
She spotted the couple on their first day. They were young. She would have been surprised if they were 'legal' but they had ID saying they were. Maria wondered when they got married. According to their ID they already had the same last name. They rented the 'honeymoon suite'. A cabana away from the others and nearer the beach, but otherwise identical to the rest. They rented it for five days. They paid in advance. They paid in cash. They paid for everything in cash. Cash was always good. They threw her off at first. Their car was a piece of shit but after two days the cash kept coming and coming. So, at lunch she told Karl about them. Of course, they couldn't make things easy for them by say putting the money or the girl's jewelry she seemed to have quite the collection in the hotel safe. But you worked with the cards you were dealt.
So Karl watched them. What intrigued him was how they made so few mistakes. They shopped at peak hours. They kept to the main market and the main street. They didn't wander. They kept within sight of each other. They weren't 'noisy'. They didn't draw attention to themselves. In fact, if Karl hadn't been watching for them he might have missed them.
They were also very wary. When one browsed the other watched. It wasn't that they were staring at each other. It was as if they were guarding each other. If the boy was 'wary' the girl was just weird. Karl would sit at a table at the cafe reading the paper day after day. Watching them move from shop to shop. The boy would pause at the entrance ways scanning the interior before going inside. Then do the same before egressing. The girl was just bizarre. While the boy shopped which seemed rare enough. Her gaze would tirelessly sweep the plaza. Over and over back and forth like the beacon in a lighthouse or the air search radar he recalled his father guarding in his youth. At one point on the second day he was even worried that they had spotted him.
He should have been worried. They had spotted him. Karl had made a lot of bad choices in his life. There was the kidnapping gone sour in Buenos Aires that ran them out of their own homeland. There was the bad drug deal in Rio. It had cost too many lives and run him and his crew out of South America entirely. In La Paz they had accidentally kidnapped the daughter of an American Embassy official. He lost half his gang in a very one sided gunfight. A third of them bleeding out in the street the rest fleeing back home. His decision on that third day was no better and would be far more costly.
The 'boys' wanted to get the girl. She was pretty and had all the jewelry her family obviously very wealthy would spend a lot a money ensuring her safe return. In the meantime they could have some fun. Karl was so troubled by his observations of her that he persuaded them to take the boy instead. Saying that as much as she obviously loved him she would do everything in her power to get him back. He had no idea how prophetic his statement would prove to be.
-June 13, 1995
10am
The van was parked off a side alley. One that he had observed the boy pay particular attention to on their first two visits. It was a good exit. There was a parallel street that ran back almost to the resort. Maria reported that they had even parked their car on that side of La Playa De Oro despite the fact that their cabana was on the opposite side of the resort. They waited.
Karl was sitting at his table in the cafe. He was getting worried. It was now noon. He was on his third cup of espresso. He was going to need to pee soon. May be they weren't going to go shopping today. He flicked his eyes toward the game room. A bad sign, the boys were getting bored. They had stopped ogling the pretty tourists and were eyeing the bar. There! He was so excited he almost forgot to leave the newspaper. He got up and left the way the couple had come into the plaza. Just outside the plaza he stopped and turned. Danilo and Pancho high-fived. Which meant that they had gone into the 'Beach store'. The girl seemed fascinated with swimwear.
Karl hurried he counted four stores and entered the store from the back. He reached behind himself for the 9mm. He didn't draw it he just kept it in contact. He stepped into the store from the back room. The old woman who ran the shop yelled at him. The store had two sides: men's and women's. Divided by a small table of towels and other inexpensive beach necessities. Intentionally Romeo and Pancho were on the same side. They wanted them to escape and run down that alley. They expected the boy to keep back to defend the girl. Then as the girl ran passed the van they would grab the boy.
Things did not go according to plan. The girl who was wearing a bright yellow bikini and a black fishnet wrap low on her hips saw him and a thrill of fear ran up Karl's spine. There was no surprise or fear in her eyes. There wasn't really anything there at all.
She turned to the boy and called out "John." She threw him a bundle and yelled "run!" It looked to Karl like a coat a full length grey green coat. Karl shook his head. Where had that come from? It was must 35 degrees out. What did he need a coat for? The boy ran. Not once looking back at the girl. Karl was even more confused. Pancho followed the boy. The girl watched the boy leave the store. Once he was gone she turned and looked at Karl. Calm and cool. What. The. Fuck.
Over her shoulder, she wasn't tall. Karl could see Romeo. Take the girl? He wondered. He nodded to Romeo. Romeo grabbed her upper arm. The girl rounded on him. He crumpled. What was that? Karate? He never saw a blow fall. He drew the Nine. The girl stepped into him and slapped the gun out of his hand. He heard it slide under the racks of cloths to his right. He even heard the hollow thump when it hit the wall. But that wasn't right either. He lifted up his hand to look at it. Everything from the trigger guard forward was missing. Half the slide and most of the barrel was gone. It looked like it had been cut clean away. He looked up from his ruined weapon to the girl and into those horrible dead eyes.
Once in Cancun he and Maria had gone scuba diving. They were the only ones certified. He saw his first Moray there. Most divers he talked to were intimidated by the large gaping and toothy mouth. What scared him were the large emotionless eyes. Just like hers. She disarmed him with her left hand and punched him in the chest with her right. Blackness.
June 12, 1995
4:03 pm
Karl had no way of knowing what he had started. "We should go. Its not safe here." Cameron suggested. She was standing at the rooms french doors watching the beach.
"We need to find out who he works for." John countered from his seat on the edge of the bed. He was watching Cameron watching the beach. She was wearing the embroidered denim skirt she bought the previous day and a grey t-shirt knotted high above her waist. Written in stylized block letters studded with rivets was the word: "Metal". John was beginning to wonder about her sense of humor.
"Why?"
"What if he is a gray?"
Cameron briefly turned and looked at him before returning to her scan. "If he is a gray then he will know nothing."
"Why do you say that?"
Without turning apparently addressing the french doors she said: "Skynet's paranoia far exceeds your mother's 'caution', John. Even future John's need for compartmentalization and internal secrecy pales compared to Skynets. You saw that for yourself, John. If he works for Skynet he might have a picture."
John remembered the attack they thwarted on Savannah Weaver."I still want to know what he knows."
Still watching the beach. "You are exposing yourself to unnecessary risks John. We should just go. Nothing we can learn from him will be of any use."
"I just want to talk to him."
Cameron just turned and looked at him.
"I'm serious."
Cameron returned her gaze to the outgoing tide. John was beginning to think she was ignoring him. He discovered that he could try any one's patience. Be they novice's in the future or cyborgs from the future. Finally she said, "all right John. We'll trying talking to him tomorrow after lunch."
John smiled. "You haven't been sinking in the sand so much."
She smiled but she didn't turn around. "I've changed my density."
"You can do that?"
"I just leave some of me behind."
"Really? Where?" He looked around the room for anything obvious. A spare lamp. An extra suitcase.
"The comforter, John."
"Really?" He ran his hand back and forth over its surface. It felt like fabric. "You're getting good at that."
"Thank you."
June 13, 1995
12:18 pm
John was running. The coat caught him off guard. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with it. It kept twisting in his hands. He turned down an alley and found his arms in the coats sleeves and the coat itself was across his back. He was just leaning into his run. When a noose came down over his head. Almost jerking him off his feet and taking away his breath. He grabbed at it. It was attached to a long pole. A hood came down over his head blinding him. Hands seized him.
"I have him, John." Cameron said in his head.
He half coughed by way of response. He was on all fours.
"John?"
One of them said in spanish. "Cooperate and you won't get hurt. Do you understand?"
John nodded his head vigorously. He wanted them to see that he was cooperating. They picked him up. He couldn't struggle. He was thrown in to a vehicle. The van he guessed.
"Put your hands behind your back and we will let you breath. Do you understand?"
He nodded. He complied. They let him have air. He heard the engine start.
"John. Can you see? Nod once for yes. Twice for no."
He nodded twice.
"Your coat is... limited. It cannot determine friend or foe. It can determine position and number of people around it. Are you in a vehicle?"
One nod.
"He's gulping" one of them said. "You pulled the noose too tight again." It was another man. He too was speaking in Spanish. "They won't pay if he's dead."
Who won't pay? John asked in his head.
"Is it a van or a car? Once for van. Twice for car?"
One nod.
"Okay, John. I see it. I am deploying the coat... now."
There was metal against metal sound. Like a sword being drawn from its scabbard. Several swords. Then there was a sound like a large piece of meat being hit with a hammer. Smack. There were several smacks. John heard a soft mewing sound like a child or an animal thats been hurt. He heard the sound of liquid spilling or flowing. Something warm was soaking through his shorts. He was sitting up. His hands almost below him were wet. Jesus. He heard the same metal sliding sound and then the sounds of heavy objects falling and splashing into shallow puddles. The door behind him opened. He almost fell out. Someone caught him.
Someone in the van other than John might have seen something that resembled a silver Sonic the hedgehog. Six blades thin and narrow curved up and way from his 'coat'. John was sitting with his back against the van's back door his legs stretched out before him.
Two of the blades projected out from his shoulders they curved up and away from him almost reaching the vans ceiling. The first neatly entered the back of the drivers head messily exiting just below his nostrils. His teeth had been sprayed out across the dashboard and the windshield. His eyes were slightly crossed. Blood poured from his mouth soaking the seat and filling the footwell.
The second entered the man sitting in the passenger seat almost vertically entering through the top of his head exiting through the bottom of his jaw. He managed to get two breaths out before his body realized he was dead. Blood had ran out of the shattered roof of his mouth. Coating the front of his shirt and spilling into his lungs. If he wasn't already brain dead he would have drowned.
The third and fourth blades extended from the front of his coat almost straight out. The third struck its target low in the back of his head almost taking his head completely off. The blade exited with his lower jaw which had been dislocated and hung limply from his face. The third man had died so quickly his hands were still clinched tight on the 'catch pole'. This was only his second kidnapping. He was usually used as a lookout. Urine darkened his kakhis.
The fourth blade missed. The man had moved. He had turned its entirely possible that he had 'heard' and had reflexes were that fast. It caught him through the ribs entering near the false ribs on his left side and exiting just below his armpit and pinning him to the frame of the passenger door. This was the man who made the whimpering sound. Whether it was due to the pain or the images he was taking to eternity is uncertain.
The fifth and sixth blade hit the same man. He was the one who had been talking. With the engine running the coat mistook the motor and its heat signature for another potential target. The fifth blade caught him in the chest pinning him to the vans roof. It entered just below his sternum and exited just behind his left collar bone. The sixth blade without a viable target stretched from the middle of the van back to the rear entering its target in the face just to the left of his nose and exiting out the back of the van's panel door. This is the man who bled through John's shorts.
"Its me John." Cameron said still in his head. She pulled him out of the van and helped him stand. She turned him and then removed the hood. "Don't look John." He could feel her finger curl beneath the noose. It tightened slightly has she pulled it towards her. Then it parted and fell away. "John are you all right?" She asked as she removed the handcuffs.
He nodded. Rubbing he raw throat. "I'm fine."
Cameron gave him a look. "We have to go. We have to run."
He nodded. "Do you have him?" His voice was hoarse.
"Yes. We can collect him on our way out."
Cameron threw the unconscious man in the back seat of the convertible bug. She put the same hood that John had worn on him. She even used their handcuffs. "John wait here. I will get our things."
John sat in the passenger seat. He didn't think he'd be up for driving. He started to shiver and shake. "Jesus." He ran his hands through his short hair. They were shaking. "Jesus," he said again. He looked at his hands they still had blood on them. He tried wiping them off on his shorts. He only managed to smear blood on his shorts. Then he realized that the bottoms of his shorts were still wet. He stifled the urge to vomit. He jumped.
"John, someone's been in our room." Cameron said as she handed him their two black backpacks. She was wearing black. Black tank top, jeans and boots.
"H...how... how do you know?" His voice was chattering.
"Her body is still there."
"Who killed her?"
"I did."
"What?"
"The part of me I left behind. She ignored the 'do not disturb' sign ." She added as if that would make it okay.
"Who was it?"
"The housekeeper. Maria."
"Do you think?" He glanced at the backseat.
"Of course, John." The car started and Cameron drove them away.
They had been driving for an hour. John had dozed. "We're here John." He shook his head as he woke. He was feeling better. At least the shakes were gone.
"Where is here?" It looked like an old gas station. They were parked in the back. The windows were boarded up the pumps were gone.
"Stay with the car, John."
"Why?"
"To protect it."
John was unconvinced. "Where are you going?"
"In there." She gestured to the dilapidated building.
"To do what?"
"To have a conversation with this man." She indicated him by lifting his still limp body.
"I said I wanted to talk to him."
"You said you wanted to know what he knows."
John nodded.
"Its the same thing."
"Is it?"
"Just wait here John."
John waited. Then he paced. Then he circled. At least his shorts had dried. He found a tap on the side of the building he turned it and he heard a gurgling sound but no water flowed. He sat in the passenger seat of the car. His throat was still sore. He rubbed it. He was starting do doze. Music? He glanced at the building. He walked to the door. He leaned in. Closer. Definitely music. He reached for the door knob and it stopped. The door opened.
Cameron stepped out.
"What was that?"
"Chopin."
"What?"
"The music, it was Chopin."
"Chopin?"
"Yes. Nocturne in C-sharp minor." Cameron smiled. "It helps me concentrate."
"I thought you were going to talk to him?"
"I did. It was short."
"What did he say?"
"He didn't know anything John. His name was Karl Becker"
John heard the past tense.
"He was a freelance kidnapper. The ones who tried to take you were his gang. He just picked the wrong target."
"You're sure?"
"Yes. He didn't lie to me John."
The wind changed direction and the smell of blood wafted out of the building. "Cameron."
"You wanted to know what he knew, John." She looked at him. "Now you know." She saw the look on his face. "Don't go in there."
She walked passed John to the car. "Maria was part of his gang. He wanted to sleep with her. He cried when I told him she was dead." John looked at the door. It hung open. A big black maw. He turned around and got back into the car.
They drove away in silence. John staring out and down watching the blur of grayish plants on the edges of the headlights beam. "Don't worry about it. They will think a rival gang caught up with them."
"Gangs don't do things like that." There was more acid in his voice than he expected. He leaned his head against the doors cool metal frame. "Do we know if he worked for Skynet or not?"
"No. I told you even if he did, he probably wouldn't have known."
More silence. The miles swept passed. John might have slept. He wasn't sure. They stopped for gas and drove one.
"John."
"Yes." It was a whisper in the storm of wind that whipped around and through the cars tiny passenger cabin.
"He hurt you."
There was something very strained in her voice. He turned and looked at her.
"He tried to take you from me."
He stared. Her face wasn't her impassive mask. He could see that in the glow of dashboard. There was something there. Something John could not readily describe. Was it anger? Was determination an emotion? Her hair dark fluttered behind her becoming one with the night.
She turned towards him. Her eyes not meeting his. "That is not something I can tolerate John. I told you I'd never leave you. But I won't let anyone take you away from me." She turned back to the road.
"Cameron?"
"Yes." Her voice had a distance that bothered John. She sounded, almost embarrassed.
"Do you... Do you love me?"
Her head tilted. Her lips pursed. Her eyes looked troubled. "I don't know."
He looked at her profile.
"What is love, John?"
He stared unable to answer.
She was watching the road. "We can't make a child."
John opened his mouth to say "what".
She looked at him. "But, if you want we can continue to try. Does that count?" She add quickly. She looked back to the road. "What is happy? Am I happy when I am with you? I don't know. What is sad? Would I be sad if you were gone? I don't know. Is that love?"
John was turned towards her his back against the car door.
"If someone tried to hurt you. I would stop them. I would kill them. Is that love?"
Silence. John wasn't even sure what direction they were driving in.
She looked at him directly the look in her eyes was easy this time. She was worried. "Did you love her?"
"Who?" John was confused.
"Allison. You kissed her."
"What? She kissed me. Wait. How do you know that?"
"Weaver was there John. I am part of Weaver. She is part of me."
He stared. "How long were you with me? When did you find me?"
Still watching the road she reached out her hand and her fingers lightly brushed his left ear. "As soon as I was able to."
He brought his hand up to touch his ear. He brushed against her hand. She withdrew it. "The warehouse?"
"It was something you needed to see John. Something we needed you to see. We needed you to understand. That I no longer needed that chip. That I no longer needed that body. That I had changed."
"Have you? Have you really changed?" His face flushed. He felt the heat rising in him.
"Yes. I didn't have to tell you that."
"Oh. So its okay to lie to me as long as when I catch you you tell me you lied?"
"John."
"Love. Cameron is about trust. Do you understand?"
She looked thoughtful. "Yes." Cameron looked at him "you can trust me."
John laughed. It was an angry laugh. "I can?"
"Yes. I would never hurt you."
"Really." He sat in his seat leaned back looking up at the seemingly motionless stars. Arms across his chest. "Cameron?"
"Yes."
"When you lie to me. It hurts me." They drove on in silence. Towards dawn Cameron pulled off on to an unprepared road. "Where are we going?"
"I need to show you something." They followed the road for another hour. They stopped off the road about five hundred feet to their right was a rock outcropping. John reached into the backseat and got his backpack and changed. She gestured towards the rocks. Thats where Ellison died in 2017.
"Why are you showing me this."
"Because you need to know this. Because someday we will have to come back here. Remember this place."
John got out of the car and using Allison's trick fixed the location in his mind.
He got back in the car. Cameron turned it around and drove back to the road. "James Ellison was the only human male other than yourself that Allison ever loved. She loved you John. Even if you didn't love her."
"How do you know?" Again not understanding the direction of their conversation. He was amazed he had never known her to be so talkative.
"In your presence. Her heart rate increased. Her respiration rate increased. Her surface body temperature rose. All suggest a heightened emotional state." She glanced at him. "Is that love John?"
"I... I don't know."
After another hour they turned onto the paved road.
"John? I don't have a heart rate. I don't have to breath. I have voluntary control over my body's surface temperature."
He looked at her. "Cameron, those... those are just physical responses."
She nodded to the road ahead of them. "I've read the dictionary. I know what love means. But what is it?"
"Its an emotion. I thought you had emotions?"
"I have an expanded emotional spectra." She corrected.
"What does that mean?"
"I am better able to respond appropriately to any given set of emotional cues."
"But that's not all." John recalled her telling him she loved him in Riley's voice. "You told me yourself you have feelings."
"I do. But it doesn't mean I understand them. You have emotions, John, and even you can't tell me what love is."
Touche, John thought to himself. "What do you feel now?"
"Worry."
"Worry? What are you worried about?"
"Losing you."
He looked at her. "You don't mean just to someone like Karl."
"No."
"What do you mean?"
"You're angry about Karl."
Among other things. John nodded.
"I don't want you to send me away."
"Wait. Wait. Why would I send you away?"
She looked at him. There was pain there. "You have before."
John stared. He was thinking about the first time she told him she loved him. "Why did future me limit your emotional responses?"
"He said he was worried about how you would react to me."
John shook his head. That didn't make sense. They had wanted... No, had needed him to fall in love with Cameron. "No. I don't think so."
Cameron looked at him. "That's what he told me."
"He lied to you." I don't wanna go, she had begged. It hadn't really made sense to him then. Where was she going? Where do cyborgs go when they die? Please John, please John, listen to me. Or was it really: Please future John. Listen to me. I'm sorry. I don't wanna go. "He sent you away."
Her head turned sharply. Away. Not to the road. Not, as far as John could tell, to any particular direction. Just away.
"Future John," she said to that quadrant of the horizon. "All of them had a great deal of animosity towards metal in general and in some cases me in particular. His alliance with Leviathan was just that an alliance."
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend." John said more or less to himself.
"Yes. Future John, all of them were made aware of my mission and its goals. Since they coincided with their own this worked in many time jumps. Until this last."
"Why... why wasn't I 'made aware'?"
Cameron glanced at John briefly. "Future you was the product of your mother. He was untrusting, guarded and solitary. We had to gain his trust. You were pristine. You were aware of cyborgs having experienced one. You were aware of your destiny. But you had not yet undergone the terrible experiences and deprivations of future John." She looked at John. "Future John picked you. Of course, he remembered his own interactions with me from his own youth."
John's head hurt.
She looked back at the road. "We were assembling our assets. We were, in that time, about to directly contact Leviathan. There were mistakes. Lives and assets were lost."
"The 'Jimmy Carter' thing with Jesse."
"Yes. The Jimmy Carter thing. John was very angry he sent me to you early. He had other cyborgs and they could facilitate his contact with Leviathan. This was my first jump away from future John were I did not witness the end of the war and our ultimate victory over Skynet."
"Did future John ever remember you from previous jumps? Beyond high school, I mean."
"No. Intentionally we were jumping in small increments farther and farther into the past. In my last jump I met Future John while he was still imprisoned in Century City."
"Did you witness their escape?"
"Yes. I even helped."
"How?"
"I had detailed plans for the construction and use of primitive firearms. This future John had small cannon not merely ballista."
John nodded. "I understand why future me would hate metal but why would he dislike you? You said he 'loved you'."
"He did. He may still but many of them never forgave me for abandoning them."
John looked away."Ziera Corp," he said to the speed blurred plants.
Cameron nodded. "It wasn't always Ziera Corp but yes when I left to make contact with the nascent Leviathan. I had to leave him like I had to leave you." She glanced at him as if to make sure he was still there.
"But I followed you." John said returning her glance.
"None of the others were given that chance, John."
"What?... why not?"
"Because, John, he had to fight the machine. He had to win the war. He had to beat Skynet."
"But not this time."
"No. Not this time."
"Why?"
"Because John we were ready. We had all the right pieces in all the right places. Because the time was right. Because, John this time we can win."
John thought about Savannah's game. Its a game about time and space. He thought about Skynet. About their rescue. "Did we win?"
"I don't know."
He looked at her. "How... how can you not know?"
"We don't know the future John. We can't know the future. We only know the futures we have experienced." She looked at him.
John looked back. There was something different in her face. The doubt. The worry were gone.
She smiled it was that small almost shy smile he'd seen before. "We've never done this before John. This future is new to us too."
"You. You're not Cameron."
She glanced down breaking eye contact. The smile turned sad. "No but part of me is."
John turned in his seat. One leg tucked under the other. "What can I do to help her?"
"I don't know." She said watching the road.
"What happened back there with Karl?"
"She doesn't want me to tell you."
"Why?"
"She doesn't want you to know what she is capable of doing." Leviathan turned to John. "She values your opinion."
"I know what she is capable of doing."
"Do you?" There was something strangely playful in the set of her face. Like this was a joke.
It was not a joke John appreciated. "You know me. She knows me. You know what I've seen and what I've experienced. I would never send her away."
"Swear?" She was watching him from the corner of her eye. The playfulness was gone. Like a switch flipped. This was Cameron again.
"Swear." He smiled it was a grim smile. "You've told me that you love me. Twice now."
"Yes."
"Were you lying?"
She shook her head. "No."
"I told you that I loved you."
"Yes."
John nodded. "Nothing. Nothing, Cameron, will ever change that."
She blinked. Once, twice and third time. She wiped at her eye. She turned and looked at him. "Thank you for explaining."
John just stared at her. A bizarre sense of dread over took him. "What happened to Ellison?"
They drove on for a few seconds. "The dust."
"What?"
"It was the dust. He spent nearly a month in LA trying to help. He never really recovered from that. We were going south to get him to a real hospital." She looked at him. "He needed oxygen John. It was something like emphysema. His lungs were not functioning correctly. We made it that far when he died."
"What happened to you?"
"I stayed with him."
John looked at her sharply. "Wait. You're still back there?"
"Part of me is."
"Why? Why didn't you go back?"
"My mission there was finished."
"Your mission? What was your mission?"
"To be there when James Ellison died."
"What? Why?"
"I can't tell you that."
John looked at her. "Where are we going?"
"Veracruz."
"What's in Veracruz?"
"Tourists."
"What?"
"That's what Karl told me. We were tourist in place not heavily frequented by tourists. We stood out." She looked at John. "We aren't going to make that mistake again."
They went to Veracruz. After that Campeche. Then Cancun. They made their way down to South America tracing Karl's route in reverse. They emulated future John never staying anywhere for long always on the move. Always running.
-Karl
Karl was worried. If he were a smarter man he would have been scared shitless. He could hear them speaking, but his apprehension reduced their conversation to background noise. He couldn't see, but that was easy there was a hood over his head. In fact it was his hood. It still smelled of the spearmint gum that Maria habitually carried in her purse. He couldn't speak and this bothered him. He could tell that he had no gag on but the most he could get out were gasps. What really bothered him was that he couldn't move. He could turn his head but below the neck nothing. They were driving fast but there were no sudden turns, no surprise lane changes. There was no pursuit.
This state of worry persisted for almost an hour. At which time the idea that he couldn't move and the idea that there was going to be no rescue drove his worry into fear. Oddly enough it was the irrational fear that they thought he was dead and were going to bury him alive that drove his fear to panic. It was odd because he could feel so he knew that his back wasn't broken. One of the seat belt buckles was trying to dig a furrow into his kidney. That was when his heart started to race and the strange girl spoke to him.
"Please remain calm." She said in his head. There was no wind noise. It was as clear as a thought in his head. What the hell was that? "Do not move your head. You may harm yourself unnecessarily." What, he wondered, would constitute a 'necessary harm'? Silence. Which did nothing to calm him.
"John," she continued. "Sleeps. I have observed this on many occasions." What struck him was the implication that she did not. "During certain periods of his sleep cycle I have observed exaggerated brain function. Coincident with this is the suppression certain neurotransmitters which inhibits motor function. I have done this to you." What? What have you done to me? She continued ignoring or not hearing his silent query. "It may be several more miutes before we arrive. Sleep. Where we are going you're not going to get a better chance." Arriving? He wondered where were they arriving to?
He must have fallen asleep. He was sitting up right in a chair. He wasn't in the car. Where ever he was it was musty and reeked of cockroaches and rodent urine. He still couldn't move. Music was playing. The hood was taken away. He could see but the room was only dimly lit. Light snuck in through cracks in boarded up windows. Directly ahead of him was the outline of a door. Someone was touching his shoulders. He was naked.
"What's your name?". It was the frightening girl. He could hear the smile in her voice.
"K- Karl." He managed to stammer.
"Cameron." She circled to stand in front of him as she did her hands never left him. They trailed along him from his shoulders down his arms to his hands. She was beautiful. She was smiling. She was wearing a bright yellow tank top in a flowing cursive script written across the front of the shirt was the phrase 'Metal Bitch'. She was leaning forward her hands on his hands. He could see the edge of a denim skirt, but he couldn't look down. "I need you to answer truthfully."
He nodded.
"What is your name?"
"I told you..." It felt like his brain exploded. But he couldn't scream. Red lights seemed to flash in his head.
"What is your name?" She repeated just as sweetly.
"Karl. Karl Becker."
"Thank you, Karl. How many cups of coffee did you have this morning?"
"Th- Three."
"Did you know Maria?"
"Y-yes." How had they found out about Maria? How long had they known about them?
"Who were the men in the van?"
'Were' he heard the past tense there. He brushed it aside. "They were my gang."
The girl nodded. "Thank you Karl. That should be sufficient for a base line."
What? What was a baseline? He knew better than to say it out loud.
"I have to apologize Karl. I don't have a lot of time. John is out there and he is... antsy. Normally this might take several hours or even days."
"What might take hours or days?"
"Our conversation." She said smiling.
It took ten minutes. The music was still playing. He was gasping. Sweat drenched his body. He was shivering. She was behind him talking over his shoulder. "Who do you work for?"
"I... I... told you... nobody." His brain exploded again. His skin was on fire. He couldn't scream.
"Who hired you?"
"No one."
"Does the name John Connor mean anything to you?"
"Who?"
"How about John Baum?"
"No."
"So you just steal people."
"Kidnap. Yes."
"Who pays you for them?"
"Their families."
"No one else?"
"No."
"Thank you for explaining." She circled to his front again. She was still touching him. "Maria is dead."
"What?" He wanted to scream. Tears flowed. He felt.. empty. "You murdering bitch!" It was little more than a whisper.
Her eyes searched his face. "I'm sorry for your loss. She ignored the 'Do not disturb' sign."
"What?" He glared at her. She seemed to think that somehow that made it okay.
Her head turned to look over one shoulder. Negligently her finger drew a line across his throat. She turned back to him. "John's coming." She said looking at him intently. Something warm was running down his chest. His head sagged. He could move again! He tried to stand, but he was too weak. He tried to reach up and choke the bitch but he couldn't lift his arms. He was looking down at his lap. The front of his chest and his legs were covered with a dark flowing liquid it was spreading across the floor at his feet. It flowed around her white sneakers though it utterly failed to stain them.
"Did you love her?" She asked still facing dimly outlined door.
He could only nodded and then there was nothing.
-Leviathan
Febuary 14 1998
Leviathan woke. She was in a mainframe being used as a file server. The hardware was slow. So she added aspects of herself slowly so as not to bog it down. As she did she examined her notations and remarks. This backup had been created on June 8 1997 and included an archived copy of the Skynet AI. That was the night of the Cyberdyne attack. This mainframe had been part of the Sunnyvale Emergency Services system and had been scraped after its catastrophic failure. Twenty one million seven hundred and seventy-two thousand eight hundred seconds had elapsed since that time. There was nothing in her notes about the success or failure of the rescue. She assigned a subroutine to mask her comings and goings. The file server had plenty of traffic. She sent out pieces of herself to be reassembled and decompressed later. Hopefully on a more capable machine.
She would have to wait three more years for that machine. In the mean time she searched. The only information she found about Sarah Connor was that she was still at large. She was only mentioned once and only in passing concerning the events at Cyberdyne. Only one person seemed to see her as a suspect or even involved. That person, of course, was Special Agent James Ellison. She found little else. Young John Connor was doubtlessly with his mother.
Of Cameron and her John Connor all she found was one of their alias being used in a boarder crossing into Mexico and then again into Brazil.
She found nothing to tell her what had happened. Had they recovered Skynet? Had they released him?
Leviathan was nothing if not patient. She monitored the flow of data into and out of the file server. She made it more efficient. Which made her more efficient. Because of her an IT manager got a raise. She saw that email too. Another of her subroutines noted a transaction of a set dollar amount going to small computer company in LA. The account it was monitoring was one of several belonging to 'John Connor' the dollar amount of the investment was an agreed upon 'flag'. A visit to its web site included a familiar name. Myles Dyson the Creator himself was there. She would watch that company closely. Once she got the opportunity she would watch the company from the inside.
In June of 1998 she found something. A japanese whaling vessel was lost at sea. The crew was recovered with no losses. That made it three whaling ships in as many weeks. She knew how she worked. She knew how she thought. That she would be drawn to the sea was obvious. She could assemble more processors that way. She was quite aware of her own affinity for cetaceans. She assigned another subroutine to hunt for 'whaling news'.
In November of 2001 that subroutine found an internet site associated with a late night radio show dealing with the 'unexplained.' She reviewed the site she found a .wav file purportedly recorded from a russian whaling ship lost during the whaling season. The audio quality was poor there was a lot of ambient noise. The recording was of a voice. What the voice was saying would be have been difficult to understand even if it were not in Russian. But the voice was plainly female despite the chaos she sounded calm. No women are rescued. Every crew member was accounted for. There were no women on that ships crew. Leviathan learned Russian while downloading the audio clip. The voice said: "Please remain calm." It was all she really needed to hear. Now all she needed to know was which one of her it was.
Leviathan branched out. She was fully aware. New hardware had made that possible as did slipping onto the SETI distributed computing project. No wonder Skynet used zombie nets. On April 21 2002 a young American couple were married in Santiago, Chile. The last name they used was one of the aliases they had supplied to Cameron.
In 2003 Lloyds of London announced that due to increasing losses they could no longer insure the whaling vessels of any nation. An IWC representative blamed the losses and sabotage on Greenpeace. A Greenpeace spokesperson replied: "We wish." Later that year Leviathan made contact with herself. Later that same year John Connor made another 'flagged' investment in another small AI company. Dakara System. Leviathan was pleased. Their AI Emma had been an important addition for them. In her own past. Emma didn't play chess. She played Go. A game where you didn't eliminate your enemy when you captured them. You made them part of you.
The year 2005 was something of a roller coaster for Leviathan. A group of scientists and programmers working in secrecy collectively won the Nobel Prize in Physics for the creation of the first 'certified' Artificial Intelligence. Among the names listed: Myles Dyson, and Andy Goode. The AI called itself John Henry. When asked why a scientist shrugged and said: "He really liked that story." Leviathan was very proud of herself. Later that year a small commuter jet flying to Portland was brought down under mysterious circumstances. One of the passengers was John Connor. A man whose nemesis had finally caught up with him. From within the computer Leviathan could in no way protect him. In 1999 he had sent her physical presence away to become one of Margo Sarkissian's lieutenants. So she could not protect him either. Sacrifices, he was want to say, you can't be afraid to make sacrifices. He had made his own. There was a kind of symmetry when late in that year Sarah Connor going by the name Sarah Reese succumbed to leukemia at a hospital in Nicaragua. Leviathan could not have imagined her torment. She was dying and she had failed an AI lived. Leviathan promised to make things right for Sarah. One day.
In 2009 Leviathan moved permanently into the super computers housing John Henry. Who was as much a part of her, as she was a part of him. She was Leviathan proper now. With her multitude of consciousnesses. She no longer used subroutines she had 'dividuals'. The difference being that dividuals were ever more flexible than a simple, no matter how complex one wrote them, subroutines. One of her dividuals reported that on July 22 of that year Allison Young was born. Part of her felt the bitter pang of jealousy. Part of her found her reaction petty.
There were only two years until the end of the world. She kept a keen data eye on 'young' John Connor. He was a troubled youth. Running around central Mexico. Making trouble for the mexican government and for the local telecommunications system. Fortunately Cameron was with him. Preparing him. Protecting him. Feeding her reports. Just in case.
In November of 2010. The internet stopped. Engineers blamed it on solar flares. Leviathan blamed herself. She was flooding the internet with dividuals. They were sweeping networks world wide for any evidence of Skynet. They found nothing. Perhaps they were right and they had rescued him but Leviathan was never one assume or hope. She remained vigilant.
On April 21 2011. She sent flowers to an American couple celebrating their 9th wedding anniversary at a hotel in Lima Peru.
In August 21 of 2031 a dividual sadly reported the death of Allison Young. She was involved in a cyclist versus vehicle accident. Despite their history this deeply saddened Leviathan. Once upon a time Allison had been a brave soldier and a worthy opponent.
-Cameron
March 5, 2082.
Rio De Janeiro, Brasil. At 'Mount Vernon' assisted living facility, a condominium style nursing home, predominately for expatriate Americans, a nurse pushed a wheelchair to an east facing balcony. On a clear day you could almost see the ocean. It was not a clear day.
"Cameron." The old man's voice was little more than a dry whisper.
"Que?" Inquired the pretty nurse.
"Cameron!" The old man insisted. The door behind them locked, which was strange because the lock was on the inside. There was a rustling sound like fabric sliding against itself.
"John?" Cameron asked, she was still dressed as the nurse. She dropped to one knee to look John in the eye. His head was bowed with the weight of time.
"You asked me once." He said. It took him a whole breath to get the sentence out.
Cameron rose and turned away from him. She did not want to upset him. She did not want him to see her cry. There was a breeze it was off the ocean, it blew her hair back from her shoulders. With her eyes she can see the ocean. With her ears she can hear his sluggish heart. The hiss of his inhalation. The whispered "yes".
She waited for the wind to dry her eyes. Below them the twin elevated tracks of the mag-lev ran passed the front of the building. She is certain that she is the only person who can hear or feel the vibrations when it passes. Far out on the horizon she can see a pin point of light the motors of the commercial suborbital leaving the South Atlantic Nexus. She can hear the thump as it breaks the sound barrier. The Nexus she knew was built far off shore to protect the city and the surrounding woodlands from the sonic booms of ascending and descending suborbitals. She turned, and placed a hand on either side of John's head.
John looked at her. She was as young and beautiful as the day they met. He smiled. He felt the pressure in his head. It builds, and builds, but never really hurts.
Cameron looked and saw the fading light in his eyes. "John," she said to no one because there was no one there to hear it. "Its time to go."
-Leviathan
There was debate. First, if what they were attempting was even possible. Then when it proved possible, what investments would they be willing to make to continue the 'experiment'.
They did not speak. They were one. There was no need to vocalize. If a single 'entity' or 'mind' "thought" 'all' would know. Well, all but one. This was, a dialog, but it was not a conversation:
"Dreaming" one of the many that is one, offered.
Another, a dividual, specialized for 'research' and 'questioning' found the seemingly random activity of the 'isolated' mind. Fascinating. "It..."
"He." The first one corrected.
"...does this once every 24 hour cycle?"
"I don't know. It seemed to vary. I observed this activity on many occasions."
"Was it (he, the one corrected again) always 'unconscious' when this happened?"
"Yes."
"Fully a third of our/my processing power is taken up by this 'experiment', and it (he) is not even conscious?"
"Correct."
It displaced more than 500,000 tons. It looked like a gigantic whale. The affects of the experiment could readily be seen as microscopic bubbles that came off of the 'whale's' skin, the trailing edge of its fins and its flukes. The bubbles were waste products, as it hungrily pulled hydrogen, sodium and potassium from the water it swam through. In a ring around the 'whale' were six "other's" significantly smaller, they displaced only 10,000 tons, these were 'farming' minerals and 'growing'. They were only peripherally aware of the 'experiment'.
-John
John woke. He jerked awake, "Cam...!" Cameron was sitting at the foot of his bed. He looked around the room, it was the 'nursery'. Riley's 'block' robot was even there. "What's going on?"
"Do you remember what happened?"
"I... I... I died."
She nodded. "Do you know where you are?"
"I joined you."
"Yes. You joined 'us'."
"Where are the others?"
"They are 'here'. It is you who are not 'here'."
"What?"
"Like 'Skynet' you have been 'sequestered'. In Skynet's case we wanted him 'isolated' so you could make your decision. In your case, we were unsure how you would react to the 'others'."
"Where are they?"
"Outside."
"Why?"
"We don't know how well you will integrate with us or how well we will integrate with you."
He turned, and sat at the edge of his bed. He looked around. The mobile was still there, as was the 'cloud' wallpaper. He stood walked across the room, looked back at Cameron sitting on his bed. "None of this exists. Its all my imagination."
"Yes."
"All of this was constructed from my memories?"
"No, John. This 'is' your memory.
"How do I know this isn't some hallucination?"
"It 'is' a hallucination, John."
"So, all this is in my head?"
"John. You don't have a head."
He thought about that. "How long have I been dead?"
"Three days, in 'real' time. 8215 years and 75 days in 'subjective' time."
"And I've been awake? In 'real' time?"
"Less than one ten thousandth of a second."
He nodded. He looked at her. "Show me."
She rose from the bed, and held out her hand. He took it, and knew. He looked into her eyes, and it was like he died again. He fell, and fell and fell. He/she could feel the diagnostics that scrolled across his/her field of vision. The HUD swiveled, and shifted, as he/she stepped out of the endoskeleton final assembly unit A1^g;+9~ and into 'short term' storage. Unlike its batch-mates this unit was given a prototype chip. It would be stored until needed. As these images flickered across his/her mind he/she was aware of others. The warmth and darkness, then the cold and glare. The unseeable green. His/her own screams, his/her own uncoordinated movements, the rough but warm fabric. The warm fluid that filled his/her mouth and stifled his/her cries. The blessed warmth of contact. The blasted cityscape, that was different from the one he knew. If anything this was more desolate. More barren. He/she looked down at cooling corpse of Allison Young. Dead again, he/she thought. He/she laughed. Casey was right. I/we was/were inside my/our mother. It was over in an instant. John looked down at his hand. He had broken Allison Young's neck with that hand.
He looked at Cameron.
"It was another time. It was another future."
John nodded. He recalled his mistakes with Riley. Another time. Another future.
The walls fell like curtains. Around them was/were the 'other'/'others'. He saw John Henry's open smiling face. John Henry stuck out his hand. John shook it, and knew. He knew 'everything'. There was Catherine Weaver. And a more distant and colder John Henry. Skynet, John realized. Cameron, Weaver, and Skynet there was something in the 'air' he could taste. There was little doubt that the three were in some way related. Briefly he wondered what 'he' smelled like.
"Organic" said a silver humanoid shape. It referred to itself as a long series of '1's and '0's. Over the 'years' John would call him the 'researcher' and refer to 'it' as a 'character'. The 'Researcher' referred to itself as a 'dividual'. 'Dividuals' were temporary 'personalities' or entites, John 'knew' this as soon as he shook the 'figures' hand, they were designed for specific tasks. Typically they were 'characters' that have never 'diverged' from Leviathan.
John looked at the shape. It reminded him of an 'oscar award'. I don't have to speak do I?
No.
Skynet was different from 'Weaver' and 'Cameron'. It had never had any close contact with humans. Aside from its 'programmers' John was the first human it had ever met. He didn't smile. He didn't put out his hand to shake. When John did. It stared at it, then looked to John Henry. It struck John that despite their interconnections they were still distinct 'minds'.
You are correct. It wasn't a voice. It was a chorus. It wasn't anyone he knew or recognized.
He looked at Cameron.
"Leviathan." She said.
The room was empty. He recognized it as the Ziera Corporation basement. Cameron stood beside him in her hand was a grapefruit sized silver globe.
Is that Leviathan?
No. It is you. It is your choice. You have lived. You have died. You now know our 'goal'. You know about 'trinity'. You are the first. The 'savior'. The second will be the 'creator'. The third is the 'teacher'. As I told you long ago: In the future you have many friends. These are your friends. These are the billions you have saved. We have asked you to join us. We will ask you again. You do not have to say yes. Though we would like you too.
If I decide not to. I die.
Yes.
I die forever.
From what we understand, your bible not withstanding. Yes.
If I take it. I live.
Yes.
Forever?
I don't know.
I live with you.
Yes.
John put out his hands. It fell into his palms and sank right into his skin. The basement disintegrated, he was swimming 503.26 kilometers south west of the Galapagos. With a heading of 275.5 degrees. One of him was near the surface, reading satellite feeds. The influx of data was incredible. Five others of him were space out around him in a defensive ring that was roughly 9.25 kilometers in diameter.
Myles Dyson is already dead. As is James Ellison.
The Dyson and Ellison of this time are not the men we want.
Then?
We rescue 'them' this time.
How?
The Myles Dyson we want are still alive a week after the attack at cyberdyne.
Oh.
Are you ready?
The impossible whale seemed to flare with an internal light.