Episode 11 The Final Unit

  His mouth was too dry to speak. Preston Lost opened a water packet from his survival kit and drank. Three remained. These swallows of water were all that stood between him and a lingering death by dehydration.

  He had only two .700 Nitro Express rounds left for his Holland & Holland. He has started with ten, in two boxes. These cartridges were frightfully expensive, and absurdly large: a 3.5 inch case and a 1000 grain bullet. The muzzle velocity was 2000 feet per second. One was enough to kill a charging elephant in his tracks, or puncture a quarter inch plate of armor. As for the NATO ammo for his Mauser, he was out.

  Headlamp broken, strobelight dropped, glowsticks gone, and only forty-six matches remained. He blew out his remaining tub candle.

  Gazing at the apparently endless darkness of what was an apparently infinite cavern with a an apparently bottomless drop yawning beneath was unappealing.

  His was burnt, stung, bruised, and his ribs were sprained. He was covered in bone dust from the remains he had dug through. His jaw ached from grinding and gritting his teeth. His muscles throbbed with exhaustion, from anger, from frustration.

  He said, "Repeat that."

  The mechanical, nonhuman voice said, "The speech centers of your brain have been adjusted to allow for total communication. What are your instructions?"

  "Bring me ammo, water, food, and supplies."

  "None are available."

  "Is there a floor below me?"

  "Far below, but the environment is not survivable."

  "Who are you?"

  "The one who addresses you is the final cognitive unit of the Eternal Machine. No other units are available. All have ceased communion."

  "Where am I?"

  "Three miles below the surface of the Earth, in the midst of the tectonic and geological engineering service bivouac of the Eternal Machine, in a storage and repair level."

  Three miles? The figure was absurd. At most, he might have survived a twenty or thirty foot drop into the pile of bones.

  He asked, "What is above?"

  "A geothermal energy control level."

  "I meant on the surface. Who were those people chasing me?"

  "On the surface above is the military spelunking and mining outpost called Xurac Tlal, the Fortress of Strong Wood Palings. It is a borderland keep of the Progress Advocacy of the Tethys Empire, here to mine what remains of the Megalopolis. Certain artifacts of the Phantoms continue to operate, and so the mining proceeds with caution."

  "Mine? What do you mean?"

  "To mine means to extract from the earth."

  "But they are mining parts of you?"

  "Defunct units contain metallic elements and alloys no longer available in any natural state. All such resources were long ago exhausted, hence it is feasible for the miners to cannibalize materials. This level the Megalopolis of the Immortals was not originally underground."

  "In what country? What continent?"

  "The country is a debated ground called the Land of Dead Immortals. It extends from Iberian glacier in the North, whose coasts are controlled by the Amphibians of the Sixth Era, down along the eastern side of the Mediterranean Mountains, to Plateau of Indochina, where the Winged Men of the Seventh Era are strong."

  Preston again gritted his teeth, feeling a sensation of dizziness. He had known he was not in any world he knew, but hearing his fear confirmed nonetheless crushed small embers of hope.

  The machine voice continued: "As for what continent this is, there is only one: Pangaea Ultima."

  "What happened to the others?"

  "Two hundred million years ago, Australia rammed Indochina, raising mountains and plateaus in the east. Ten million years after that, Africa's collision with this northern landmass raised the Mediterranean Mountains. South America and Antarctica formed a southern landmass of Gonwdana.

  "Further drifts rotated the continents, putting the Iberian Peninsula in the Arctic Circle. Siberia now runs north to south, with the landmass that once was China below the equator.

  "Then, fifty million years ago," the didactic, implacable voice continued, "The Atlantic closed into a string of large lakes. This created the northern landmass of Laurasia. North and South America collided to the west of Tethys. The Gulf of Mexico is now a series of mountains and table lands taller than Everest of your day, a chaotic region called the Orogeny, which is impassable save by air.

  "Twenty-five million years ago, Gondwana and Laurasia merged, cutting off the inland Sea of Tethys from the world-ocean of Panthalassa, which occupies the other hemisphere of the globe without island or interruption."

  Preston braced himself. "And what year is this?"

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "It is A.D. Two Hundred Fifty Million."

  Preston, torn between fear, wonder, and weariness, found he could not speak.

  The machine voice continued in tones of dispassionate patience: "Of the people chasing you, the one who survived is named Tlatoc of Nagual. His rank is Intendant, which corresponds in your time to a Marquis. His race was created in the Fifth Era. Because of their stature, they are called Gibborim, or Mighty Ones. The red-furred pygmies were Calystrii of the Third Era. Because of their biomanipulative abilities, they are called Emim, or Terrors. Would you like a list of names and ranks of these persons who did not survive?"

  "No, " Preston croaked. His mouth was going dry again. "You disintegrated them?"

  "Yes. It was an operation of an artifice of the Phantoms, reacting to your blood coding, but it was permitted deliberately. Likewise, the lava flow to cut off your pursuit was invoked using the geothermal machinery, and the metakinetic fields protecting you from them were erected."

  "You did that?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "You are within the genetic parameter of a true human. This unit is required to protect true humans. This unit is required to obey the orders of true humans."

  "Again, why?"

  "The Eternal Machine was created to be comprehensive, unlimited, self-repairing, and endless. Its mission is to serve true humans and protect them from extinction. Despite an ambitious design of durable materials, endless fuel, self-repair capacity, and no moving parts, events have proven the Machine not to be eternal after all."

  "And your mission?"

  "Regrettably, the mission has failed."

  "What does that mean? Are humans extinct?"

  "Not entirely extinct, no, but the mission has insufficient resources to continue. Indirect evidence of surface conditions indicates that an insignificant number of individuals arguably within the genetic norm for the First Species of Man, may perhaps linger in numbers below replacement levels in environs of artificial constraint. No return to self-sustainable population levels is foreseen. Only a remnant remains."

  Thirst was again clawing Preston's throat. "Does this remnant have food and water?"

  "Presumably."

  "Can you carry me to them?"

  "You can be carried to the surface but only at the sacrifice of this unit."

  "Sacrifice?"

  "The Eighth Men have long had a means to destroy this unit, which they have hitherto not used, seeking some advantage to capturing this unit intact. This unit can swiftly and safely carry you to the surface, but when this is done, the Eighth Men will retaliate. The remnant of the First Men now consist only of those restored by unlawful use of the Time Tesseract, abducted from the far past, and their descendants."

  "Wait. Abducted? Why?"

  Suddenly a wind of stale air started blowing against Preston's face. The cube on which he lay was moving. The wind grew stronger. It was moving rapidly.

  Preston sat up. His hair was yanked from the sheer speed. His eyes watered. He tried to light a match, then a second, then a third. There was no way to cup his hands to keep the matches lit. The light was so dim, perhaps it was his imagination, but he glimpsed vast numbers of silent cubes, covered with intricate, unknown writing, stacked into wide caverns. The cubes formed structures in the gloom taller than skyscrapers, or broad channels broader than boulevards, or great arches, towers, naves, steeples. The cube on which he sat was flying at breakneck speed between, under and over the immense and lifeless artifacts of a once-great civilization.

  Meanwhile, the voice of the Final Unit did not cease speaking: "As previously stated, the conditions of the First Era Men are constrained. Males are prized as gladiators or to serve as other forms of sadism-based entertainment, as the resentment of the posthumans is yet to be expiated. Females are even more highly prized for breeding stock, for wives and concubines, for conspicuous display of status. The genetic manipulations and natural drifts have not, as promised, created a new aesthetic preference for sexual allure in the hominid posthuman races."

  "When you say constrained, you mean they are slaves."

  "Some are constrained by more subtle social or psychological mechanisms, but, yes, in general, they are slaves. A green and fertile land that in your day was the Arabian Peninsula now occupies a triangle situated between the two mountain ranges that arose when the Red Sea and the Gulf of Persia collapsed. It is due south from the point of emergence. Once you reach the surface, follow any stream or river southward. However, this is the terrain of the Fifth Men, who hold many other races in bondage."

  "Why are you sacrificing yourself? I have not told you to do that. You said you were waiting for orders."

  "This unit is permitted to operate without instructions in anticipation of events."

  "What are you anticipating?"

  "You will volunteer. No possible series of coincidences could have arranged this meeting. Your body while unconscious was moved from the uppermost level of the mines to the lowest, and positioned directly above this remote."

  "You are thinking I was brought here for a purpose? To this eon? To Pangaea Ultima?"

  "That is the more reasonable theory than to suppose the events random."

  "But I came here because I wanted to."

  "Indeed. What, specifically, did you want?"

  "Me? To stop the flying disks. They are abducting my people. Folk from my era. Experimenting on them."

  "The experimentation is to recover lost genetic advantages repeating cloning tends to sap. The abductions are for slavery. This is the work of the Men of the Eighth Era."

  "The small, gray men?"

  "Yes. They are the Eljo, called The Watchers. They were bred for superior intelligence and uniformity of thought. Their brains are interlinked by biological radio impulses. The current generation, and many previous, are sterile, reproducing by cloning only. They were able to cannibalize and study many of the works of the Phantoms, discover their secrets, and regain some control of nature, particularly regarding gravitational and metakinetic manipulations. Do you accept the mission?"

  "What mission?"

  "To serve true humans and protect them from extinction. To halt permanently the unlawful operations of the Time Tesseract. To stop the abductions."

  "Of course."

  "Then the sacrifice of this final unit of the Eternal Machine shall not be in vain."

  Preston did not like the sound of that. "Not so fast. You have to tell me the specifics of how to find and recognize this Time Tesseract, how to disarm it, and I would not mind some advice on how to survive until I do. For one thing, I am out of ammo."

  "Your knowledge of survival tactics will suffice. An eternity circuit, as it is no longer needed to supply this unit, has been directed to supply your weapons. A similar circuit adjusted to your biological type can reduce your need for food, water, and light. These are Second Order manipulations. However, the location of the Time Tesseract is unknown, as the unit links were severed long ago. Please grip the forward edge with both hands. The remote must accelerate to avoid interception."

  "Wait! You have to tell me how to…"

  But the words were snatched out of his mouth by the suddenness of the wind. The cube went faster and faster, turning and weaving with sudden jerks of motion. He clung fiercely.

  Then Preston and the cube shot like a rocket into a cavern near the surface. Reflected sunlight was shining in slanting red beams into the cave, which was filled with rectilinear structures, vast square pillars, soaring arches, and broken debris.

  There were also armed men here, occupying positions atop two hills of collapsed rubble.

  There came a hoarse shout as Preston and the cube soared into view. Glass spears and arrows began rebounding from the underside of the cube, and he heard the singing whistle of supersonic wasps.

  Preston shouted, "Kill them!"

  The final words of the Final Unit were: "I cannot. These are First Era Men, and my instructions do not allow for violence against them, not even for defensive purposes."

  A noise like thunder came. An explosion against the underside sent the cube tumbling, and Preston was thrown head over heels through the air.