Alive Chapter 11, an a.i. fanfic

Note: I am certain that, among those still following this slow moving story, there are many who might be wondering when I will start moving David back home, especially since he has already encountered Martin. I might have written that encounter prematurely but I can work my way around that. The problem is I find myself in the same position that Ian and Stanley did during the construction of AI: David was too vulnerable to make it through the obstacles alone and they didn't t want to keep introducing and abandoning characters. So they put Joe in the story to act as both a guide and an obstacle, and to eventually be discarded. I have already discarded Angelo so I decided to establish some characters that can provide both obstacle and assistance to David's quest... if only inadvertently, while having their own story. There is logic, however haphazard, to these diversions. I hope you are enjoying the ride anyway. I assure you the next chapter will start leading back to more familiar ground - BH

Alive

A fan fiction in progress

by Bryan Harrison

Pt. 11

David did his best to keep up with the man named Sy. who move almost effortlessly, through the thick woodland. But his feet beat painfully on the mossy earth and there were new scratches stinging his flesh where thickets and low hanging branches had appeared suddenly in his path to take their passing toll. David had caught Sy looking over his shoulder a few times, but had seen no reprieve in the man's face; only impatience and a hint of … humor?

David had learned something about humor in his short time among the Orga, but he could see nothing funny about this situation, or indeed any situation that had befallen him since he had come to reside in this fragile shell of flesh. He steeled himself against the pain and struggled on, lest what little he had in the world was lost to the bandits.

He had no idea how much time had passed or had far they had run, but he knew he could go no further. His brow was dripping with sweat and his breath coming deep and painfully fast. He was about to give up the chase, to admit defeat and let fate have her way with him, when he saw that the gang of boys had stopped far ahead, in a clearing near the base of a tree covered hill. Sy stopped running and walked calmly to his gang. They welcomed him with upraised hands. The big man slapped each palm and then turned to regard David as he came stumbling into the clearing, out of breath and miserable.

"Look like someone needs a trip through the gauntlet, eh?" Sy quipped. The boys laughed. All except the one Sy had called Wizzy, who only twisted his young face in unbridled disgust. But none of this mattered to David. Sy's apparent insult would have made no sense to him even if he'd had enough mental energy to decipher it. As it was, he only had enough to fall to his knees and hold up his arms in surrender.

"I…can't… go," 'any further' is how David had meant to conclude this breathy appeal. But he could not finish the sentence, so he decided to finish his descent instead, and lay in the deep grass of this place. It was fresh and cool against his face and he felt like he might have just lain there forever if strong hands had not yanked him up.

"Almost home, boy," Sy said chuckling and picking David up like a doll, to set him on his feet. David wobbled a bit, but somehow managed to stay upright. Wizzy snorted again, but David would not be provoked into looking, which he was somehow sure was Wizzy's intention.

The group set out again, walking this time, and at a merciful pace. David was both encourage and mystified that the bandits would show him any decency. But he soon realized that their slowness was not from any sense of courtesy, but of caution. They were passing up a gradual incline, beneath a dark shroud of overhanging trees, and they seemed to be cautious where they stepped, as if there might be small flesh-hungry creatures lurking in the bush. Sy glanced back and then whispered something to Wizzy. The boy made another disgusted snort before dropping back and moving to David's side. "Stay by me, pork chop." The boy said. David was too tired to ask the meaning of this new insult.

As the shadows grew deeper, David noticed that the group began moving into single file. He was about to inquire the reason for this when he felt a shove from the side. It was Wizzy. Again.

"Get in line, pork chop," the brat whispered. "And keep your tongue," he added, before David could respond. Not that David had the strength to trade insults, or even the experience to know to what words the boy might take offense. But he was determined to get even … eventually.

The line began to slow and finally came to a halt. Ahead David saw Sy step to the base of a large tree. Then the man knocked on the tree. Then he began talking to it.

Oh, David thought, he's insane. Now it all makes sense. The thought stuck a funny note in David's head and he was surprised to hear a chuckle come from his own mouth. He was not as surprised to feel Wizzy's foot bounce against his backside.

David turned on the boy. "Stop that!" he hissed.

"Quiet, pork chop," Wizzy snarled back with a look that meant business.

David returned the glare for a moment, but then relented. Later, he thought. Later. He was getting more comfortable with the idea of revenge and wondered when it would morph into more than just fantasy. But his anger with Wizzy fell away when he realized that Sy was not engaged in a lunatic monologue. Tree was talking back. He strained an ear and heard Sy say "C'mon, now. Before the skeeters wake up and eat us alive."

The tree responded. "Why the back trail, Sy?" it said in a lite, electronic drawl. "You in trouble or sumthin'?"

"We got us a guest," the man explained. The talking tree let out a burst of static and then some words that David could not make out. The boys in line all turned to regard him with cool skepticism. Sy rolled his eyes and then gestured for David to come forward.

"Hurry up!" Wizzy said and gave him a parting kick. David decided not to honor the rudeness with a response. The boys parted to allow him passage. He stepped by young bandits, wondering which of them had Teddy. He walked to Sy's side, but the man pushed him to the front of the tree.

"There. See? Just a kid," Sy said, impatiently. David looked up and down the crusty bark of the tree, but saw nothing like eyes or a mouth. But he guessed it was able to see him somehow. And it definitely spoke.

"And how do you know he ain't a plant?" the tree responded. It was apparently a girl. David didn't know trees were could be delineated in that fashion.

Sy flailed his fist in the air. "Dammit He's just some lost brat. Drop the gates!"

But the tree wasn't yet convinced about whatever it was Sy was trying to convince it. "What's that on your wrist boy?" it asked. David held up his arm to show the ID bracelet. "I got it from the hospital." he explained, almost truthfully.

"How in the hell did you miss that, Sy?" the tree yelled.

Sy grumbled, grabbed David's arm and ripped the wristband off with one strong yank. Then he tossed it far up the trail ahead. A sudden flash filled the darkness for a split second. Well, there goes my identity, thought David.

"Are you happy now?" Sy said.

"How do you know it wasn't traced?" the tree scolded.

"Because we made it this far!" Sy replied.

"Well that's specious reasoning," the tree said.

Sy punched the stubborn plant. "Dammit, Nance! He's skin. He's safe. We're tired and hungry. Now let us in!"

Some of the boy's seconded this. But the tree seemed reluctant to accept unannounced guests. It let out a rash of words that David didn't know, but were obviously intended to impart the severest disapproval.

Sy had his own string of angry words. He let them fly and then said, "OK, just leave the gates up, Nance, and try to find yourself another crew! We're comin in!" With that he started storming up the thin trail. The boys hesitated, undecided whether to follow Sy or heed the trees warning. But slowly they began to step up behind their leader. David stood his ground in confusion. He thought he heard the tree make a sigh of resignation… or it might have been anger.

Wizzy walked by and tapped David on the arm. Amazingly the boy had no kicks or insults to offer. He only shook his head and gestured for David to follow. "Man-oh-man," Wizzy sighed as they walked. "Sparks are gonna fly tonight." David was curious enough to inquire, but angry enough to get the explanation later… and from someone else.

As he stepped into line behind Wizzy, he thought he saw rows of thin red beams of light in the shadows ahead of the group. But they vanished as Sy trudged confidently into the foliage and beyond the place where the strange lights had once formed a barrier.

The thick greenery finally gave way to another clearing, but this one was cloaked from the sky by a thick canopy of intertwining tree branches. On the other side of the bare earthen floor sat a dilapidated building that looked as if it might have once been filled with people wearing dark suits and grim expressions; carrying thin briefcases as they rushed about busy corridors, chatting into their headsets. Now it was just two stories of broken glass and rusted frames; home to a roving band of underage bandits and their leader. Who knew what kind of chaos lay within?

As they approached the withered structure, a woman appeared in the doorway. She was older, perhaps the age of Dr Chen, and had a shock of thick red curls atop her head, and a face full of piercing and elaborate tattoos inked into her pale flesh. She leaned against the doorframe and placed a hand on her hip as she regarded the approaching boys with a baleful glare.

"I should'a just left the gate up and fried your sorry asses," she said. But nobody seemed impressed by this sentiment.

"Hello Nance," Sy replied dryly. "It's so nice to hear your sweet voice again, my precious jewel. Why don't you see to our guest?" He gestured to David and then slipped nonchalantly by the woman and into the unlit corridor. She gritted her teeth but didn't try to stop him. The others filed slowly behind, one by one, offering the woman conciliatory smiles as they passed. Wizzy chuckled under his breath and gave David a departing punch on the shoulder before joining the others.

The woman twisted a brow at David, as if she was wondering how he could still be alive. "You look even worse up close," she said, and analyzed him for a moment. Then something in her gaze softened. "That cheek is puffed up like a melon. Bet that tooth is killin ya, huh?"

David nodded his head quickly.

Nance sighed like a mother whose work is never done. "C'mon," she said and stepped into the building.

David was lead down a dark hallway, following the sound of Nance's footfalls ahead of him. He could hear the gang of boys laughing somewhere in the building. He started to head in that direction, but heard Nance say "this way," and turned to follow the sound of her voice. He heard the swishing of a door opening ahead, and saw sudden light erupt from a room. Nance was silhouetted against the glow for a moment before she stepped inside. David stepped in after her and saw something he hadn't quite expected: an immaculate room of sterile white walls and polished steel surfaces. Medical instruments, of the kind he had seen in the hospital, were neatly arranged on shining metal shelves or resting in bottles of colorful cleaning solutions. Complicated machinery hummed about the place. Digital displays shown rows of zeros from a myriad of multi-colored readouts.

David's surprise must have reached his face, for Nance laughed at whatever expression she saw there. She gestured to a thick chair in the center of the room. David crawled into the chair. It was huge and soft as a worn pillow. The thing whirred to life suddenly and embraced him, locking his arms in place. He started to struggle but knew it was futile. It was too late to change his mind now.

Nance winked and held up a small metal cylinder. The harmless looking device emitted a fierce red light from the upraised end, and David could swear it was making a high-pitched whine as she approached.

"Big boys don't cry," she said as she went to work.

The extraction was quick and David didn't suffer any more pain than he had at the hands of the men in the hospital; the silent ones in white lab coats who had come to pinch and prod and ask the same questions over and over again. When Nance was done she packed some gauze into the back of his mouth and told him to keep it there for the night.

She handed him something small and white. David studied it carefully. 'This is part of me,' he realized, reminded once again about the fragility of this body. He rolled his tongue over the cauterized wound in the back of his mouth, and wondered if it had really been necessary to cut the tooth out.

Nance seemed to notice his dark introspections. "It'll be all good in the morning, honey," she said, and turned back to whatever she'd been doing.

'Honey?' David repeated, pensively.

Nance turned to shoot David another one of her sour looks. He was starting to understand that this was probably her usual expression and that maybe she wasn't as mean as the piercings and the angry tattoos implied.

"Yeah, 'honey'," she said, flipping off the lights and ushering David back into the dark hallway. "Nobody ever call you that before?"

"Well, yes," David explained. "I mean, no, but I understand. It's just that… well I didn't expect … You don't seem as mean as the others."

Nance let out a laugh that echoed through the empty halls. "You think they're mean?"

"They jumped on me and stole my money and my bear," he explained, angrily. "That is definitely mean, and I think…" he paused a moment, trying to recall the legal restrictions on human interactions. "I am pretty certain that it's illegal."

He couldn't see Nance's face as they made their way through the dark, but the tone of her voice implied a shrug. "Yeah, well, you're still alive, ain't ya?" she said.

David considered the logic of this response. It was setting the bar rather low, but he had to concede that he was, in fact, quite alive. "I guess you're right, he said, reluctantly. "But I almost died trying to keep up with Sy … and that kid named Wizzy kept kicking me and … " something told David that complaining about name calling wouldn't come off too well. "…and stuff." he said instead.

Nance laughed. "Yea, the Wiz Kid can be a pain in the butt sometimes. But that's only because Sy's always protecting the brat. He thinks Wizzy's some kind of genius. Personally… and don't tell him I said this, but I just don't see it."

David made a sound of agreement and then felt Nance grab his shoulder and turn him down another dark corridor. He heard the boy's voices raised somewhere above. Nance grumbled under her breath. David pondered the irritated sound and wondered why she put up with them if she didn't want them around.

"The secret is to not let Wizzy know that it bothers you," Nance continued. "You just act like you could care less and then she'll stop."

"She?" David blurted.

Nance didn't respond, but David heard her sigh, as if she was wondering if he'd been living under a rock. "Where in the hell are you from, boy" she asked.

David thought for a moment. "I don't remember," he finally replied. The response didn't seem to surprise her.

She led David to an elevator and, still in complete darkness, they rode to the upper floor. When the doors parted, and the light flooded in, David was, once again, left speechless. The walls that once separated offices had been knocked down and the bandit's living space spanned the entire length of the buildings upper floor. It was decorated with fine accouterments, as the palaces of pirates are so prone; plush couches and chairs of ornate design, things that must have been stolen from the wealthiest homes. Paintings and statues and holographic works of art hung from walls or sprouted from tables with intricate designs carved into their antique wood. All around lay piles of bounty from the gang's exploits. There were games and clothing and musical instruments strewn about the place as if the boys had grown tired and simply tossed them aside. Computers and unmoving Mecha filled a far off corner. David couldn't see Teddy among the discards, but he couldn't see as well as he used to. He wondered what had happened to his toy friend, but decided it would be better to not press the issue. For now.

In the center of the room sat a large cubical embracing a complex console. And from this sprouted numerous screens displaying various views of the surrounding woods. In one of the monitors, David saw the trail they had walked to get here, and realized he was looking through the eyes of the tree. "Oh," he said and was glad no one had heard him, lest he have to explain why he'd been surprised by something so obvious.

The gang of boys were in various places around the room, their feet propped up on expensive looking footstools, talking, playing games, sleeping or raiding a large refrigerator near the back of the huge place. Then he saw noticed a strange looking older fellow. He was thin and proper, clothed in a ragged black suit. His face held an expression of intense disinterest with anything that might occurring around him. But the boys seemed to be ordering him about. "Neville, Bring me that drink!" and "Neville, did you finish washing my stuff?" and "Neville, make me a sandwich!".

David understood immediately. He looked away. It was no longer his concern. He had a new life now. He followed Nance to the place where Sy was resting.

"Found yourself a real kitten didn't ya?" she said, throwing herself down on a tapestry-laden couch near Sy. The man had kicked back into a large, throne-like chair, and was fiddling with something in his hand. He laughed without looking up from whatever he was doing. "Told ya he was a pork chop," he said.

"Why do you keep calling me that," David asked.

A voice rose from the space behind Sy's chair "There's two types of people in the world," it said, "those that eat and those that get eaten," David was already too familiar with that voice and braced himself for the insults he was sure were coming. Wizzy popped her head up from behind the couch and shot him a mocking look. "We call 'em woofs and pork chops. And, you sure ain't no woof."

Sy chuckled.

Nance shot David a knowing eye.

David was searching his mind for words that might sting his young abuser. But then he remembered the woman's words. "So, can I have something to eat now?" he asked instead, ignoring Wizzy's taunt.

Sy gestured over his shoulder. "Help yourself. The fridge is over there," he said, still engrossed in whatever toy he held in hand.

"Thank you," David said politely. He smiled broadly at Wizzy as he passed, just to show he was above it all, and felt some comfort in the grimace that crossed her deceptively boyish features.

Precisely when he became one of them was not clear. But it seemed that the lost boys of the forest had just accepted his presence and, by the time they were settling in for the night, were acting as if he had always been among them.

Pork Chop became David's unofficial handle, and he was informed that should he protest this name, they would call him something worse. Wizzy had laughed and suggested Doggurts, or Bushpatty. But an older boy named Darek, one of the boys who had helped hold David down while the others searched his pockets, explained that these were slang for animal droppings. David settled for Pork Chop.

The Wiz Kid, as David learned was Wizzy's official title, tried to goad him into a few arguments as he ate. But just like Nance said, she gave up when David shrugged the insults off. He chewed his meal of wild rice and stringy beef carefully, to not agitate the cauterized hole in the back of his jaw. The pain was slowly coming back as the anesthesia wore off. But it was just a dull ache.

When he was finished, Neville came to him with a towel and fresh clothing. David searched the Mecha's eye, as if he might see some recognition there. But the service bot only gave him a disinterested glance, and then pointed in the direction of a stairway alongside the room. "The shower is there, sir. You are allotted 10 minutes," it said and walked away.

"Where's he from?" David asked.

"Found him," Wizzy said, but would not elaborate. Instead she suggested that David shower quicky, before his stench made her puke. He smiled and walked away.

The water felt so good on his bruised and scratched flesh that David got lost in his thoughts and spent more than his allotted time in the shower. Angry cries and threats interrupted his introspection. But David was starting to understand that this was just their way of communicating. He shut off the water and put on the clothing that Nance had given him.

When David gazed into the mirror he wasn't sure if he even knew the person looking back. The new clothing was dark and stylish. It looked expensive and felt smooth against his skin. It fit in all the right places, but billowed loosely over his thin frame. He guessed that it was supposed to fit this way. He'd seen the other boys wearing similar things.

The once smooth skin of his face and arms was now dotted by small scars and insect bites. And being living flesh, it had tanned from exposure to the sun. He looked… older somehow. But the real difference was in his eyes. There was something new there. David didn't really feel any different. Tired, yes, and nervous about his future. But the face in the mirror held something new…. and dark. Yes, it was the eyes, he decided. They were changing in some vital way. Something was happening beneath his awareness, like the time he had caught his hands wringing unconscious knots in the hospital bed sheets. But this change was happening in his mind… and his heart.

Someone pounded on the door. "Get your skinny ass outta there!" It was the voice of an older boy.

David responded quickly. "OK! OK! Just wait your damned turn!" he yelled. But he felt an immediate sense of dread. Had he been presumptuous? Had he gone too far? But his fear fell away when he heard the boy outside laughing. "Oh, Pork Chop," the voice said, almost whimsically. "You a trip."

"Yeah," David replied to himself, looking again at the dark clad stranger in the mirror, wondering what would become of him. "I guess I am."

As David was drifting off to sleep on the cot that Neville had placed out for him, he heard someone approaching. He rolled over to see Sy's large frame silhouetted against the soft glow from the security monitors, which was the only light in the room now. The man leaned close and spoke in a whisper.

"You're one of us now, Pork Chop. Tomorrow you start earning your keep," he said.

David waited for further explanation. But none seemed to be coming. "How?" he asked.

Sy made that low ambiguous chuckle. "Well, boy. We're bandits. You smart enough to figure it out." With that the man walked away, leaving David alone with his questions and uncertainty.

A troubling thought came then, as he considered his new predicament. He knew he would eventually find his way home… by his mother's side where he belonged. For now he would play along with the gang, just until he found Teddy and a means of escape. Then he would continue his quest. He would let nothing stop him. Nothing.

But… and this was the new thought fretting in the back of his mind… by he time he found her; by the time he had lied and stole and kicked his way through all the ceaseless obstacles that fell in his path… would he become someone else? Would Mommy even know him?

And would he still be someone she could love?

(cont...)