Читать книгу Original Syn - Beth Kander - Страница 8

Three more bodies.

That’s what Shadower has to focus on: the cold hard fact of three cold hard corpses. Not the danger of this work. Not the implications of the evidence. Dissecting and disseminating what this information really means will be the next step, but right now, only the facts matter. Ensuring that accurate information is collected and conveyed. That’s it; that’s all.

It’s easy to get distracted, to start guessing ahead—and sometimes it’s vital to make those leaps, to try to stay one step ahead of the situation—but not until they know what the facts of the situation are. But leaping to conclusions can lead to falling off cliffs.

Stay focused: Three more bodies.

These bodies were nothing but conjecture moments ago, a rumor whispered fast and low, blowing quietly and quickly through the narrow cracks and crevices of the clandestine network. Repeated over and over, growing in incredulity even as it grew in certainty.

More bodies, we hear it’s three bodies, we think it’s three bodies, it’s three bodies.

Even Shadower was startled by this surge. Months ago, when they confirmed the first incident, it was startling: the unthinkable discovery of a discarded body of an apparently self-terminating Syn came out of nowhere.

Syns are supposed to live forever. That was the whole damn deal. The entire Synthetic movement was founded on the premise that with enough augmentation, upgrades, and all their enhancements—death could be not simply outrun but outdone. Eternal life was what they signed up for, what they schemed and fought and murdered for; self-termination was an abomination.

When the first body was confirmed, the clandestine network figured it was a fluke. With the second, they realized the fluke might have been more like a harbinger. And then with the third, and the fourth—

Stop. Focus: Three more bodies.

Shadower returns to the facts, reviewing them without speculation: The cadavers were Syns, each of whom had flat-lined on the Heaven monitors for unknown/unapproved reasons, immediately triggering a black-ops recovery of each body. Heaven’s army moved fast. Too fast even for Shadower. Within moments of flatlining, all three bodies were confiscated and incinerated, all physical remains erased and the electronic trail swept clean. Thanks to their own shared systems, Syn leaders knew that burning the bodies was not enough. To truly bury the evidence, they had to erase the electronic trail, too.

You can’t just discard the shell. You have to dig out the creature within, and make sure everything burns. And they managed to burn it all, real and virtual, with rapid speed. Almost fast enough to make it seem that nothing had ever happened. Almost.

But not quickly enough to prevent rumors, which were carried by increasingly quick spies who sent word to Shadower. So now, thank whatever God remained in this cold mechanical world, Shadower can confirm the rumors. Shadower can do so using the strange, singular ability to eavesdrop on the silent communications carried on electronic waves.

Pressed against a wall, coated in sweat but not dripping a drop, Shadower slides into position, port hovering near a public outlet. Not plugged in, not alerting the system to any presence, Shadower begins extracting data. Siphoning intelligence without actually connecting and revealing any specific identity: A ghost in the machine.

No one else can do this.

Even Shadower is not quite certain how this particular skill emerged; it’s truly a blessing and a curse. Like it or not, Shadower takes everything in. Everything: from ports, from people, from the wires in the walls. It’s as if the entire world speaks at a louder volume for Shadower. It’s useful for eavesdropping. It’s also crazy-making.

Shadower is a magnet and the information is metal, always flying in and clattering against the magnet. The clanging is crazymaking, but Shadower has grown accustomed to it; has learned to filter, tune in and tune out as needed. If Shadower listens hard enough, even the most carefully hidden files call out, here I am, here I am.

Any quiet hum of information erased, any virtual-footsteps wiped away in a clever but not infallible cover-up, none of it is ever gone; it is only shifted over to another channel, and Shadower can tune in to every single station.

Yes. There it is.

Shadower presses closer, leaning into the quiet hum singing behind all of the larger, louder surrounding sounds, carefully following the faint but unmistakable path of lilting information still humming behind where hard data once lived. Facts cannot be erased, only smudged like a pencil eraser on an old sheet of paper.

A flash—a scene—a something—a someone—more than one—three—yes!

Shaking from the effort, tension running through steeled nerves and gritted teeth, Shadower siphons and saves one single image before Heaven’s clean-up crew sucks everything else up, up, and away. Thankfully, the image secured is as damning as it is chilling: three bodies, too out of focus for their faces to be identifiable, but clearly dead, discarded Syn corpses—and beside them, a half-dozen live Syn soldiers.

Shadower imagines the cleanup crew, running programs to eliminate the electronic evidence, pouring chemicals over the dead bodies in preparation for incineration. Heartless, evil bastards, erasing their own neighbors to protect the all-powerful Syn leadership.

Bastards, all of them.

The confirmation of multiple suicides, willfully covered up by the Syn Council, will send shockwaves throughout the clandestine network. Rumors would become facts. Facts would inform action. Planning would continue.

Shadower doesn’t give a shit about Syn terminations—well, unless the self-eliminating Syns could be reached and radicalized before they just went and killed themselves like useless little idiots; that might be nice. Shadower would be happy to give a suicidal Syn the option of doing something more productive, like helping the network burn the Syn world to the ground. Going out with a real bang, instead of just being erased.

Sad-sack Syns aren’t the real concern here, though. Shadower’s goal is not to prevent Syn suicides.

The real objective is to change the world before all Originals are extinct.

The dead Syns are only interesting because their cold corpses might just pave the way for an Original revolution. For a return to the way things were—the way they were always meant to be.

We’ll have our revolution, God willing, Shadower thinks.

Assuming God hasn’t also given up and offed Himself.