Exodus

Exodus

by

Hans Idmar Niesu








They were like ants. Millions of tiny little ants crawling two-thousand below his feet. The problem or non-problem with ants, Vincere Lazar reasoned, is purely a mathematical question. A single ant can be killed easily, in a infinite number of ways, one more diabolical then the next. . Like most kids, he had burned ants with magnifying lenses on a bored Sunday afternoon. A group of ants could be crushed under the heel of your shoe with little trouble. But once the ants started to number the thousands, you'd need some serious fire power to get rid of them. Any number higher then that, and you'd better start running if you didn't bring a flame-thrower and protective gear.
Now the ants gathering at the base of the immense skyscraper numbered in the tens of millions. They had come for him and his kind, to take revenge for those he burned to crisp. And these were not normal ants. They didn't just rely on claws and teeth and childish poisons. These ants were far more dangerous. They carried sharpened blades instead of claws, guns instead of teeth and explosives instead of poison
Still, all could be dealt with relatively easy. Ultimately, it was down to numbers. There were simply too many. The entire area was flooded with them and more seemed to join every second. Vincere peered into the distance from his balcony. For miles in each direction, the swarm covered every inch of ground.

The only part of the surface that was still visible was directly at the base of the tower. The electric barrier, established in haste was keeping them out...for now. As more ants streamed in towards his location, they pressed their comrades at the front further and further towards the death-zone. Occasionally, one was pushed inside the barrier and ended up a pile of charred bones a few seconds later. In principle, the defence should hold out indefinitely. None of those below had the technical knowledge nor the resources to destroy the barrier. The generator was located inside, so on paper there was no way to get it. Or out for that matter.
Once again, it were the simple numbers that were the problem. The shield, although effective, was crude and inefficient, relying on raw power. The internal power-plant, located deep beneath the structure could run for centuries , but its output was painfully insufficient for its current task. It was simply incapable of providing the output necessary to supporting the shield, while at the same time maintaining the structural integrity of the gargantuan tower.

The tower of New Eden had been built to look as though it defied the laws of physics. On first glance, the structure looked impossible, as though it should collapse on itself in a dozen place and the merest gush of wind would snap it in two. But it were the same laws of physics that it seemed to deny, that lay the basis for its survival. Large magnetic fields, carefully calibrated, held it together far better then stones, metal beams and nails ever could.
It had seemed brilliant at the time of it's construction, but now he saw the folly of the design. Without power, the whole thing would come down upon itself in mere seconds. Normally, this was not a concern. It was hooked into the power-grid in a dozen places, with internal power generators and large storage units, as a safety precaution. It had seemed invincible and a perfect symbol for the new age humanity had entered. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, it seemed like pure folly.

The ants had cut the power.

It was the first thing they had done after the shit had hit the fan . Intellectually, they might be mere insects, but they turned out to be crafty and devious. They had dug into the earth and cut every line leading to New Babel, requiring it to run entirely own it's own generators. It simply didn't add up. The shield and integrity mechanisms, let alone the energy required to maintain the specific metabolic requirements of it's many inhabitants. Even cranked up to its full potential, the generators didn't provide nearly enough raw strength. They had been tapping into the storage units ever since. Vincere could only guess how long those would last. Or what would give out first; the shield or the building itself. Those still trapped within the tower might have a very interesting choice to make in the near future.
The first option was to cut the shield and let the frenzied mob in to do all the things they fantasized about during the past weeks. Of course, he would defend themselves to the last breath. That part of humanity was not erasable. No matter how much you tinkered with body and mind, the will to survive seemed inseparable from consciousness Vincere did not consider himself a warrior. He lived to create, not to destroy. Part of him wished to take the high moral road. To just sit and smile while the barbarians cut him to pieces. It would be the ultimate moral victory for . Deep down he knew that at that final moment, whatever base-instincts remained within him would take over. And even though his augmentations were purely intended to help with his intellectual pursuits, the physical side-effects had made him far superior to the ants waiting down below. . Most likely, dozens would die by his hands, before the sheer numbers would overwhelm him. A wry smile played around his lips as he imagined the carnage. A strange itch moved down his arms and his metal fingers unconsciously formed into a fist. He was surprised at the remnants of primitivism, still lingering inside him. Once this was all behind him, he would have to tinker out that flaw.
The second option was to just wait and go out with a bang. Let the power run out and watch the whole structure collapse, crushing many of the ants under the rubble. Despite the mathematical superiority, in terms of casualties, it felt flat and hollow compared to the idea of dishing out the bloodshed with his own hands. He was surprised at the remnants of primitivism still lingering inside him. Once this was all behind him, he would have to tinker out these remaining flaws. He pushed the thoughts away for now. It was too early for suicidal fantasies. They had lost the battle. Every battle in fact, but the war could still be won.

He walked away from the balcony, back into the room beyond. The space was wide and largely devoid of furniture.
From up here, the city actually had a degree of beauty. At least it used to. Too high up to to see the ants, purposelessly crawling through the streets. Too high up to notice the litter they left everywhere they went, too high to hear their pointless banter, too high to smell the unpleasant odours produced by their inefficient biological processes.
All that visible on a normal day was the results of their labour. Architecture, monuments, bridges, towers .Sometimes, when he was sitting here, looking out over the city on a sunny day, he could almost agree with those that said human civilization was worth saving. Today, it was nothing like that. The city burned. Smoke rose up against the horizon. A never ending symphony of sirens drowned out the songs of the thousands of birds, many of his own design, that lived on the branches that grew out from the building . The smell of the immense crowds below that now lay siege to his home was so strong and dominant that it even crept up to the great heights of his home and every breath he took was tainted with the smell of primitivism.

He walked towards the low grey table, standing at centre of the room. He placed his hands on the smooth surface. Immediately the electronic circuits in matte-black metal hands connected with the data-flow inside the table. Within microseconds, he was fully up to date on the latest news, analysis and statistics. His kind was still under heavy assault in every city in the world. Those who could not erect defences in time and lacked an escape route were cut down where they stood. Genocide. The military of the United Earth Confederacy still stood idly by the sideline, not willing to take a side yet. Talks were going on HighCap station, between all parties involved. Politicians, military generals and those who had appointed themselves leaders of the uprising; the kings and queens amongst the ants.
Pundits and experts could not agree on what would happen. Some said regulations would be put in place and peace would return. Some said the world would burn, until only members from one side would be left. Vincere ignored their childish babbling. He would know soon enough either way. She could call in at any moment, with the final decision. The decision that would determine not only the course his life would take, but life in general. Yet he didn't worry. They would come to their senses and make the only rational decision.

He was sure of it.

As though his thoughts had summoned her, she appeared above a small dark hole in the middle of the table. At first glance she looked as real as the rest of the room. Only if you looked carefully at the edges would you notice the discrepancies, as though she didn't quite belong
If he compared her form to the current trends and benchmarks for beauty, she was perfection. The kind of woman that in ancient times could have launched thousands of Greek ships, or convince men to duel to the death if their was but the slightest hope that the victor would win her affection.
Vincere did not feel the least attracted to her. Unlike the will to live, the desire for flesh was easily overcome. In a way, she even revolted him. With all that was possible nowadays, she had chosen such a simple form. It had bought her admiration from the masses and enough votes to become, on paper, the most powerful person in existence. But to Vincere it was a perversion of his work. Instead of a a tribute to novelty, it was a tribute to the very shallowness and base-instincts that he wanted to overcome.
'Marjion, good to see you,” he said, without the slightest hint of sincerity:” let us not waste time with small-talk. What progress have you made?”
'I'm sorry, Vincere. We have to decided not to intervene,' she said in a voice smooth as silk and without the slightest hint of emotion.
He felt something he had not felt since the start of the uprising. Something he had not felt in over a hundred years. He felt fear.
'What? What do you mean you will not intervene? We are being butchered like cattle. Right now, millions are at my door with torches and pitchforks. Should I just open the gates and let the barbarians sack the holiest of holy?' His voice somehow did not sound like his own, as though he was listening like a stranger.
The woman floating above the table sighed.
'What can we do? The army command is not willing to get involved, fearing mutiny. Purist ideology is very popular amongst the troops. Several military stations have already taken the side of the protesters'
She paused for a second. Her face, which had been a mask of cold, diplomatic grace, suddenly looked worried.
'Look, Vincere. The purist elements have taken over Tarsus IV. It's fully under their control. The news has not broken yet, but it will soon.'
Her words were like a slap in the face and he suddenly found himself staring a the ground. Tarsus IV: the largest military space-station. Capable of delivering of precision strikes at any point of the globe, just as easily as it could bring mass death in the form of mushroom clouds, poison gas and virus bombs.

It took Vincere less then a microsecond to fully grasp the meaning of her words. It was lost .The was was over. With that much fire-power at their disposal, the rebellious ants could keep the entire planet hostage. Their demands would be met. After seeing the horrific crimes they committed the last few weeks, who would want to gamble on their honour and nobility and their respect for all life? They could take him, or anyone else, out as ease as he could swat a fly. With the weaponry on Tarsus IV, they could shatter the shield around New Eden in the blink an eye and reduce his home to a smoking pile of rubble.
He looked back up at Marjion and her eyes showed that she understood these things as well as he did.
'If we use force against the masses, we might be looking at a full-blown war, on a scale we have never seen before. We cannot risk it'
'So this is it? You will let the angry mobs erase us from history, while you look from your comfortable chairs in high orbit?'
'No. We have made a deal with the leaders. They have agreed to try and stop the violence for now and let us shuttle all of you out, towards HighCap. From there you you can....find a new place, a new home.. We are preparing a world-ship as we speak'
'Is this your solution? To banish us from our home? After all we have done for those ungrateful simpletons, our reward is a one-way trip into the darkness of space?'
'I'm sorry Vincere. It was that or total war. It's a great sacrifice and I know it's not fair to any of you, but it's the only solution that is left'
'She cannot leave. She is with child. There is no way she could survive transportation in her current state'
Marjion's mouth turned into a thin line.
'I'm sorry, Vincere. There is nothing more I can do. The shuttles will arrive in a few hours. I hope you will try to convince your...I mean our kind to come along”
'No, I will not. My place is with Amariëlle and her fate is my fate. If it ends here, so be it.”
“Vincere,” she said, in her most diplomatic voice:”We need you.You are the first. The one that started it all. They will listen to you and go peacefully. No one else will be able to rally them. They need you Vincere. Not just now, but also wherever the future might lead them. They will need you to lead them”
'Smooth words, Marjion. I can see why you are such a success in politics. Unfortunately, it takes more then a bit of honey to lure this fly to your side. I will stay with Amariëlle. Whatever will happen, let it be.”
With a thought born from anger, he terminated the conversation. The vision of the woman disappeared in a flash as though she had never been there and Vincere was alone again. Thoughts came rushing in at the speed of light. Plans formed, buzzing with potential for the first microsecond of their existence, only to be shot down and crashed the moment they took on solid form, only to be replaced by a dozen more that ultimately met the same fate. There was no way to save her.
But he could not abandon her. Although it seemed primitive and typical of the sentiment he worked so hard to remove, he could not imagine life without her any more.

He would rather stay by her side for whatever time remained.

He moved to the far wall of the room. It seemed a single, solid slab of white metal, but as he approached, a part of it just seemed to vanish, revealing the wide elevator that lay behind it. As he stepped into it, the doors closed behind him .There was no need to give a command. The moment his feet hit the floor of the elevator, it read his mind, or at least the outer most layer of it. Normally he would have to clear his mind and focus on a specific thought, so mental interface could filter his intention from the background noise that even a mind like his own always produced . But now his head was so filled with thoughts of
Amariëlle, that no amount of noise could possibly overpower it. The elevator started to rise in complete silence to the very top of New Eden.

Eleven point sixty-three seconds later the doors opened again and Vincere walked onto the roof of the tallest building humanity had ever seen. It was not what most people would expect. Permanently hidden above the clouds, few souls had ever laid eyes on his private oasis. A forest spread out before him, with each tree even more unlikely then the next one. Those on the outside, near the elevator door were still recognizable as trees, although the shapes of their trunk, branches and leaves were unlike any other tree on earth. He would often walk through this paradise to calm his mind and find inspiration in the never-ending novelty this place had to offer. But now he found no peace and he moved quickly through through the exotic forest.

As he walked deeper into the grove, the trees grew stranger .Green and brown gave way to purple, turquoise and many shades of blue. Some had leaves of a translucent white, while others emitted a soft red light, as though their branches were covered with thousands of leave-shaped candles. In between the trees flew creatures that existed in no other place in the world.
Orbs of light that bounced from tree to tree, and a white faceless creature slowly sailed through the air on luminous wings. It flocked to him as he walked through it habitat, peacefully circling around his head, occasionally moving in and softly brushing against the skin of his face. The moment it touched him, he felt a pleasant tingling sensation in the back of his head. For the briefest moment he forgot all his trouble. The tension melted of him and for an instant all seemed well with the world. Then the feeling was gone.

The creature buzzing around his head, which he had crudely dubbed a Flashfly, produced a very short-acting drug, which produced a 'flash' of immense happiness. The drugs were transmitted through touch and each of the flies had a slightly different cocktail of psycho-active substances that was as unique as the fingerprints of ordinary humans. It was one of his own designs, one of the first creatures build from scratch and one of his personal favourites . The ecstasy-inducing touch was a small adaptation made by Amariëlle. They had laughed as they watched the effects their creation had on unsuspecting friends who had the rare privilege of being allowed entrance to their private play world. Now it felt hollow and childish. A mere toy that distracted them while the momentum turned against them and the success of their true goal slowly slipped through their fingers. And now it was too late.

He pushed away the Flashfly with a gentle motion of his hand. It tried to come in for another brush, to share the precious gift produced inside its body, but Vincere pushed it again, this time with more force.Faced with the rejection, the winged creature hung silently in the air. Even though it had no face or any feature truly recognizable for humans, Vincere could swear it looked disappointed. Then with great speed it flew away and disappeared into the thick foliage of a cluster of trees , which seemed to grown into each other, so you could not tell where one ended and the other one began.
Vincere felt strangely guilty, but pushed the feeling away as he pressed on towards the very centre of the garden. In here, the scenery was dominated by an entirely new type of life. They were simple in form, little more then thin spires of glass-like crystal, shooting up from the dark soil like jagged shards of living ice. A few of them nervously taking the first steps towards branching out, new shards growing out from the main body. But for all their exterior simplicity, they were amongst the greatest achievements in the field of genecrafting.; a life form based upon a completely different chemical basis. Completely novel, unique and best of all, he had nothing to do with it. The creation was entirely Amariëlle's. It was the first moment in his life that he felt dumb and outclassed, faced with something beyond his understanding. It was then that he realised he would one day become irrelevant, surpassed on all sides by minds superior in every way. It was one of the most gratifying moments he had ever experienced. To know that the limits of human achievements would not be determined by his own limitations.

A small path led into the crystal forest, to the heart of the rooftop, to the private chambers of his cherished partner, colleague, friend and lover. A clearing in the forest contained a large dome of grey metal. The doors slid open as he approached and he entered the preparation-chamber. To enter the holiest of holy, he would have cleansed by a series of rituals. He threw off his robes and undergarments, revealing the strange mix of flesh and dark metal that was his body. A thick, white spray hosed him from all sides, eradicating any potential contaminants. A second spray followed up, covering his entire body in a thin coating, to protect him from the alien environment within the dome. Then the doors on the other side of the chamber slid open, allowing him entrance to the wide open space beyond.
From the inside of the dome, the material of the walls was transparent, allowing him to gaze upon the strange forest once more. Yet in here, the strange trees were as close to normality as it got. The entire chamber was filled with a thin, greyish fog. It was rich in organic building blocks, exotic chemical compounds and other raw materials needed by the mad scientist who called this place home. Vincere felt his lungs adjust at the first breath he took inside the chamber. His chest tingled as filters were being created to sift out the harmful elements around him and shut them out, neutralize them or turn them into something useful. A second later the tingling sensation was gone and he could breath with ease.

She was laying on a comfortable red couch in the centre of the room, like an ancient Greek goddess. A massive figure, four times larger then himself, she was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. Most people who had access to his technology had used it to fulfil their childish fantasies. They wanted to become perfect, based on whatever trivial standards currently dominated society. They wanted to be stronger, faster and . They wanted wings or extra limbs or eyes that saw perfectly in all conditions. Even worse were the superficial modifications, colour-changes, skin-mods and other non-functional travesties.
They were like children, turning their own bodies into an expensive toy. But he did not want to judge them. It was part of the human mind, or at least it still was. Most people, no matter how much you speed their brain, simply lack the ability to think outside the box. His quest had been about giving people freedom, to design their body as they saw fit. Whatever they choose to do with that ability was up to them. But although he tolerated their simplistic minds and their narrow ideas, they would never get his intellectual respect, unlike those who used his work to forever push back the boundaries of what was possible .And when it came to that, Amariëlle had no equal. She had turned her own body into a laboratory, allowing her to work with a level of maternal intuition and precision that he could only dream off. A large of long metal tentacles slithered around her head, scooping out the base material from the fog around her. Large, metal cables jotted out from her spine and disappeared into the floor below her. They fed her the raw energy she needed both for her own survival and for the work she conducted inside her own body.
A large crystalline cocoon seemed to grow from her stomach. It was filled with a swirling purple fluids. A vague outline of a humanoid figure could be seen, floating inside the artificial womb.
He felt her gaze fix on him when he stepped into the chamber. She did not need eyes to see. The tentacles provided far more accurate sensory inputs then human eyes could ever achieve. Yet he had managed to convince her to keep her eyes as they once were . Her eyes had been the first thing that drew his attention when she came to work for him all those years ago. Fierce and aggressive, always looking to destroy and create something better instead.

He smiled. He really was on the way to becoming a fossil, clinging to such simple things, to archetypes and overly romanticised memories. Perhaps it was for the best that his end would come soon. If only he would be replaced by those even more daring, more willing to destroy the arbitrary rules and traditions that held back even one such as himself, he would gladly die and make room for those who more deserved it. But to die at the hand of ants, who did not act out of individual , but based on the lowest common denominator of the herd-mentality and who did not destroy out of understanding that certain things are not worthy of existence , but out of sheer ignorance and fear of change. The fantasy that things can somehow remain stable in a universe that abhors stagnation and desires never-ending novelty.
Yet for all of this, he was happy that her eyes had not changed. They were far larger now and even more intense, but their essence was still the same. It reminded him that he was not alone, that another soul shared his ideas and his grand vision for the human race.
“Vincere, my dear,' she spoke a calm, resonating voice, that seemed to somehow come from all directions.
“Amariëlle..,' he replied, feeling tension in his chest as he looked at her
There were a million things he wanted to say, but he didn't know where to start
“How are you doing, my love?“ was all he managed to get out. He regretted it immediately. He sounded like an office clerk coming home to his wife after a long day of filling out papers. He half expected her to scold him for it
She smiled. Her massive hand rubbed the glassy orb extruding from her waist. The figure within seemed to respond, moving around slowly within its liquid home.
“We are doing fine. It's good to see you in person. You've been away for too long.'
“I've been terribly busy. Trying to stop all our work from going up in flames.”
He let out a long sigh:”So how have you been?”
She laughed. The sound was like a shock-wave and Vincere felt his muscles tense up involuntarily, on command of the remnants of his reptilian brain.
“I assume you did not just come to inquire about my state of being, did you?”
He paused for a second, trying to find the right words
“No, it's not I'm afraid. The situation.....it's not going well. In fact, it's getting from bad to worse.”
“I know. I was listening to the call. I know what is going on and I know what you intend to do. And I have to say you are a fool, Vincere.”
There was no hatred or judgement in her words. It was merely an objective observation and a correct one at that. He was a fool indeed.
“Look, I will find a solution. It will not end here”
She laughed, although it was hollow and sharp.
“You know the numbers as well as I do, Vincere. I am bound to this place. For all that I am, I have become static. Uproot me, and I will die as sure as the trees that surround me”
“We can work around that. Like I said, I will find a way.” Vincere could hear the desperation in his own voice.
“I know what you are thinking. Change me, so I can survive on the outside again. It's possible, but would take weeks at best, probably far longer. We cannot hold out here for that long. And there is no ship in existence that can transport me. You know this, Vincere. I will die here. It was determined when the first crowds gathered and the first of us were cut down on the spot”
Her face turned sour and her hand went back to her stomach.
“Besides, even if we could make any of this work... my child, OUR child, would never survive.”

She had assured him that their son was a authentic mix of their DNA . The exact nature of the project however, he did not understand. She had explained to him that even she herself did not fully . Working inside her own body, she no longer worked within the the limits of tangible knowledge. A mix of maternal instinct, coupled with cutting edge science, she had reached a level of understanding he could only dream of
“He is important in a way even you do not yet understand. I know I have been keeping you in the dark . He will be the next step, the final conclusion to our work. A being capable of shaping his own genetic destiny, no longer reliant on endless surgery, laboratories and the crude hacking and sawing that have marked our journey so far.. For him, transcendence will be as natural as breathing”
Vincere felt his heart rate spike at those words. If it was true, she had taken a leap that made all his work like the clumsy first steps of a child. At that moment he loved her more then he ever thought possible.
“But he is not ready yet,” she continued:”his body is, but his mind is not fully formed. If he comes to this world now, he will likely destroy himself in seconds. I will have to lock away his mind, to shut him out from his own body for his own protection. But he will survive the birth”
“But what about you?” Vincere asked, although he knew the answer.
She smiled faintly.
“I have prepared for this moment since the war broke out. It seemed inevitable it would come to this. The acceleration of the project has drained all my strength. I will not survive this step.”
“Don't do it, Amariëlle. Don't you dare leave me. I can't do all of this alone”
“You will have to. Our son will need guidance. Only you have the ability to finish what I started. I will send you all the data I have gathered.

Immediately Vincere felt the immense waves of data flooding in through the secure, private data-channel that he and Amariëlle shared. Hundreds of thousands, each more complex and indecipherable then the next. He stored them away safely, within the confines of his own head.
“Goodbye Vincere. I have not said this often enough, but it has been the greatest honour to work with you. I regret nothing. Please don't give up now. That's all I ask of you. Finish my work.”
Vincere wanted to say a million things . All the things he had wanted to say in the last years, but had kept to himself, fearing to sound like a sentimental fool. Now at this final moment , he could no longer find the words.
“I will. I promise,” he said softly.
She closed her eyes and tension rippled through her body. The translucent orb on her waist slowly started sliding open, the liquid inside splashing onto the floor below. She positioned her massive hand below the cocoon as it fully opened and the human figure within peacefully slid into her palm. It looked like an oversized doll, in her massive hand A large pack of cables extended from his back into her body. Her other hand detached the cables, with surprising agility, her fingers moving eerily fast like the legs of a panicking spider. Carefully she lowered the figure to the ground and let him slide onto the metal floor.

Then she stopped moving and went limp. Vincere looked on in silence. Within seconds, the decay set in. Her flesh seemed to simply wither away, causing her skin to pull tight over her bones. The skin turned from a healthy pink, to yellow to a sickly grey. Vincere felt a strong desire to fall down on his knees and sob like a child, but he resisted. He had made a promise and he intended to keep it. He pulled away his eyes as he walked over towards the naked figure laying on the floor. It was small and fragile, it's build stuck somewhere between a boy and a man. He did not seem to move, but Vincere did not doubt he was alive. As he reached the figure lying in foetal position on the floor, he could see the first signs of breathing. He gently picked up his son from the ground and carried him away from his mother. He seemed to weigh next to nothing. Vincere's mind was flooded with thoughts and emotions, moving at ever increasing speed. He blocked them out, shutting off the parts of his mind responsible for the chaos now raging in his skull.. An empty calm moved over him. There was work to be done. He started to make his way back to the forest outside.

An hour later he was standing back at the table in the centre of his living room. The same image of the perfect woman was hovering over the table.
“Marjion , is the offer still standing?”
“Yes, it is Vincere.”
“Make it happen. I'll send out the message to my kind. Just make sure
“Shuttles will be there in two hours. I'll send you the coordinates of the . Will you take care of the rest?
“I will,” Vincere said flatly.
She wanted to say more as he could see the first tiny muscles around her lips tense up . It would probably be something derogatory. How he made the right choice or something similar. He cut off the call before she had the chance to say it. The image disappeared in a flash, as it had done earlier, but this time Vincere did not find himself alone. A boy was standing behind him, dressed in a simple grey clothes that were too big for his frail body. He completely human, although his bald head and spotless skin made him look like an oversized infant . As Vincere looked into his eyes, nothing was looking back. The boy, his son, had woken up several minutes after his birth, but as Amariëlle had said, his mind was locked away for his own safety. All that controlled the boy's body were the most simple psychical . He could breath, stand and walk, but seemed incapable of more complex actions. He followed Vincere around, like a loyal puppy, but did not show any emotion or reaction to him otherwise. It was most likely a simple subroutine, installed by Amariëlle, causing the boy to follow his scent. Still, it created a strange feeling of attachment to his child. He was a father now and with that came a whole new set of responsibilities and a whole new sense of purpose.

He placed his hand back on the table and prepared a final message, to be sent to all those like himself, who had transcended the limitations of the human form. It was not a cheerful message. It was a call for Exodus. The war was lost. The baselines had won and they wanted them gone, one way or the other. Now the only way out lay in a new journey, into the depths of space, .
He attached the coordinates for the safe-zones where the shuttles would land to take them to HighCap Station, from where they would launch into the cold void. After sending he message, there were only a few things left to take care of.
He primed a terminator-virus to go off in exactly three hours. It would wipe the entire computer-system inside New Eden and destroy the enormous data-banks of the laboratories deep beneath the eart. All his research, all the knowledge he had gathered in the previous decades would go up in flames. The ants outside would not get their filthy claws on any of his work. If they wanted him gone, they would rot in their own ignorance. He stored the most vital data inside his own mind. Everything else could be remade, rediscovered and rewritten. He would have plenty of time soon enough. Having saved what little he could, it was now time for the one of the oldest activities of men: simple revenge. He ordered the computer to summon Taaresh.

A few seconds later another door opened and a large dark-skinned man walked into the room. He was dressed in a black and grey combat outfit and carried several advanced firearms openly on his hips.
“You called, master?” he spoke in a low, brooding voice
“Yes, Taaresh. I'm afraid our paths will diverge from now. But I need your services one final time”
Vincere briefly explained the situation and the imminent flight from New Eden. Taaresh listened to it all without moving a muscle or blinking even once.
“I wish I could bring you with me, but there is something that needs to be done. And you are the only one I truly trust with this job.”
Vincere took a small, black briefcase. It looked unremarkable, except for a small white icon near the lock, showing a snake eating it's own tail. He handed the case to Taaresh. Suddenly a grin appeared on the face of the large man.
“Pandora's box heh,” he said, barely able to hide his excitement.
“Yes. They will pay for what they have done. Wait until we are all gone. Once the shield goes down and they storm in, sneak out. The moment we are safely off into space, unleash it in the middle of the vermin.”
Taaresh nodded. “I will not let you down, master.”
Vincere put his hand on Taaresh's shoulder.
“I know you won't.”
He sighed:” If only everyone like this. Look at you, you are as human as those currently laying siege to my home. Not a single gene in your body has been changed, yet you don't look at one like me with fear or jealousy or blind hatred.”
The man did not reply, but slightly bowed his head. Vincere knew the man's loyalty was not based upon , but came from archaic religious beliefs. He saw Vincere, and Amariëlle in particular He had tried to explain the truth many times, but Taaresh was unwavering in his primitive ideas. At some point, Vincere had simply given up as he realised the loyalty these false beliefs inspired was stronger then could ever be achieved through reason. And as much as he loathed religious beliefs, his pragmatism had bought him a invaluable servant. Now it was time to repay the man for all the work he had done. He handed Taaresh a small metal card.
“Take this. It gives access to an untraceable account I have set up for emergencies. I have no need for it any more. There is enough there to live like a god for the rest of your life. You earned it.
Vincere could a Taaresh's eyes widen for a second, before the man got himself back under control. He took the card and clenched it tightly in his fist.
“Thank you,” he said reverently
Vincere smiled:”“No. Thank you. Take care, Tareesh.”
He turned away and walked back towards the elevator, to make his his way to the large landing platform, in the middle of the New Eden tower, where a shuttle would come to pick up. His son followed in his wake, with a blank stare on his face.


Vincere was standing on a large platform and stared out into the nothingness. A slight buzzing reminded him that a shield, only a few molecules thick prevented him from dying a gruesome death in the true vacuum of space. Behind him rose the immense spires and domes of HighCap Station, the largest of the space-habitats. It was home to the United World Council, the highest political body in existence. It also served as the launching platform for deep-space expeditions. In front of Vincere, the planet Earth rested peacefully in the never-ending sea of darkness.
“It looks peaceful from up here. I suddenly understand why you never come down anymore.”
Marjion did not reply.
“Why it did have to be this way?” he said, without looking at the woman standing next to him
“After all we have done for them. We eliminated hunger, made disease a rarity and the majority leave in peace and splendour. And yet they turned on us at the first chance they got.”
Marjion looked at him
“You still don't get it do you? They did this, because you made them irrelevant. For all they have, they lack power. We came to dominate every aspect of society and they became like children, living by our grace.”
“Is that so bad? Was it really worth going to war for?”
“It is the most important thing. The one thing that connects all humans, is that they want to be relevant. They want to matter, in some way. And you and your work took that away from most of the population. And I think the void left by that realisation slowly fills with fear. If you don't matter, what is stopping anyone from replacing you? You have seen with your own eyes, how we treated them. I wonder if they were right to turn on us. Perhaps it was only a matter of time, before we did the same to them.”
“Based on what? There were incidents yes. Too many in fact, but how can our entire enterprise be judged on the actions those individuals. It's madness, Marjion. Unenlightened madness.”
“Maybe. We will never know now. But it could it's for the best. Perhaps men and gods cannot share a world.”
“But now the gods are getting kicked out of paradise, to face the perils and hardships of the outside world. That is not how the story is supposed to go, Marjion.”
“Perhaps a new twist is just what the story needs, Vincere.”
Vincere paused and turned towards her.
“Are you sure you're not coming with us?”
“Very sure. There is much work left to be done. This question is not going away. How we proceed with our evolution will dominate our political landscape for the foreseeable future. We will have to deal with one way or the other.”
“And you will take that
“No, but I hope to do my part. I am now part of a failed chapter in history. If nothing else, I can provide a lesson for the next generations. I'm going down to Earth in a few hours and meet the leaders of the uprising. Hopefully we can work out a temporary solution. From there ,we would have a new government, new regulations, new ways of dealing with these matters.”
“You know they probably nail you to a tree right? It's the way they deal with people like you now.”
“I will take my chances.”
“Then you are a braver person then me, Marjion.”
She sighed:”Just say it: you think I'm a fool.”
“Your a fool, Marjion. But bravery and foolishness are not mutually exclusive.”
She laughed politely.
“I should be off now. Make final preparations for the trip down to the surface. I doubt we will meet again. Take care Vincere, you are leader now. I hope you do a better job at it then I did.”
Vincere could hear the pain in those lasts words.
“Thank you. I wish you the best, in whatever bravery and foolishness you will undertake.”
Marjion placed his hand on his shoulder for the briefest of moments, before she started walked towards the exit of the platform. Then suddenly she turned around and looked towards the boy who had stood silently next to Vincere throughout the conversation.
“Have you named him yet?” she asked with sincere curiosity
“Joshua.”
The boy did not respond to his name
Marjion looked puzzled for a second:” Vincere, you suprise me. I had not taken you for a religious figure.”
“Actually, it's an old family name. I come from a long line of Joshua's.”
“I had not taken you for a traditionalist either”
She smiled one final time and then walked out of Vincere's life.

Once she was out of sight, Vincere made his way towards the large launching bay at the backside of HighCap station. As he entered the enormous hallway, the immense world-ship came into view. It's black, large enough to carry the hundreds of thousands towards a new home, somewhere out there. The massive fuel tanks were still in the process of being filled with the precious fuel that would have to carry them between the stars. Many of his kind were watching in silence as supplies were loaded on board. In two more days, it would start it's one way journey.

Many heads turned to him as he walked by. Some still looked largely humanoid, their extensive improvements hidden behind the veil of normality. Many more resembled little of the form they had when they came to this world. He recognized many of them, as he was responsible for their design and transformation. Yet Fear, hatred, resentment, but also the intangible buzz of excitement for what was to come. He ignored all their stares and made his way towards the entrance of the ship. As he got closer, he realised the true scale of the ship. For a moment he felt insignificant and puny and he understood how the ants must have felt when they stood outside his tower. He smiled. This was why he was superior to those pesky creatures. Not because he was infinitely smarter, stronger and near immortal. It was because when he was faced with something grand, something beyond his understanding, he felt awe and admiration, instead of fear the urge to destroy.

He increased his pace. The metal of the bridge made heavy clanking sounds under his feet . He felt a tingle of excitement run through his body as the first smells of the ship entered his nostrils. That smell. He knew it all too well . It was the unmistakable smell of novelty. He felt an overwhelming urge to get inside, settle down and get back to work. There was so much to be done and he had sat still for too long already. He had a promise to keep after all. The ship had been outfitted with a laboratory to his own design and all of Amariëlle's data was locked inside his own brain. He had slowly skimmed over the edges of the endless sea of data.. It was vastly more complex then anything he had ever seen before, but he felt hopeful. Given enough time, he would unlock the secrets of project and finish. He set foot upon bridge leading to the interior of the vessel. To the place that would his home for decades to come.

He turned to his son and smiled:” Come, Joshua, we have work to do.”

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Peter was standing on the large open square that had once bordered the immense tower of New Eden. He was not alone. A massive crowd had gathered, numbering in the millions. There was music, dance and an atmosphere of unbridled ecstasy. A few hours ago, the world-ship had left HighCap station for a one-trip into the depths of space. It had been officially proclaimed as the end of the war. Celebrations were erupting all over the globe, but this was the biggest of them all. It was a strange place to celebrate anything in his opinion. The structure called New Eden, that had been home to the notorious Vincere and many of his kind was gone. It had collapsed several hours after the evacuation and thousands had died under the rubble. But as soon as the dust had cleared, hundreds of thousands poured in to the grand plaza and more followed every day. The massive pile of rubble had become a symbol for the victory and the new age they were about to enter.

He had promised his mother he would stay home, until things calmed down, but the promise had been made in vain. It was too big, too monumental to miss. An event such as this only comes along once in a lifetime and he did not want to spend it behind locked doors watching tv. Of course, he understood his mothers concerns. In the shadow of the festivities the violence still raged on.
The few remaining post-humans were mercilessly hunted down and killed on the spot. It had made Peter uneasy. It seemed unnecessarily brutal, but it did not stop him from enjoying the moment. After all, the violence had been little more then a few quickly forgotten lines in the news. Until a few minutes ago. They had found an angel. It had been hiding in the basement of a building near the plaza. It had been there, since the siege of New Eden had begun and it failed to join the others of his kind during the evacuation. Peter had watched on as they dragged the large figure out of the building .It . Impossibly tall, large feathery wings, long golden hair and skin as white as pearl . It was a popular archetype, one of the most common. It granted flight and the appearance of divinity to those with the financial resourced to afford the gruelling and painstaking procedures. Now, little of this presumed divinity remained in the angel. It was screaming and cursing, in a low booming voice as they dragged him to the centre of the square. Then it started to beg, pleading his assailants to come to their senses. They ignored it. It took a dozen men to pin the wailing figure down to the ground. One of the men, a large, unsubtle specimen with unpleasant black eyes, brought out an axe and went to work with great enthusiasm. Peter watched on in silence as the bloodthirsty man started to chop away at the wings, to the great cheers of the others onlookers.

The inhuman shrieks the angel produced as the metal blade smashed into his flesh and bones were high-pitched and were unlike anything Peter had ever heard. He was certain the sound would haunt him for the rest of his life. It seemed to take forever to separate the wings from the rest of his angelic body. Once they were done, they simply left the once-human to bleed to death. It had stopped screaming a while ago, and now just quietly sobbed as his life ebbed away from gaping wounds.
Peter suddenly felt himself become dizzy. The world around him started to spin and a few seconds later he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the ground. He tried to gather his senses, but his legs felt weak and clumsy. He had to get away from this all. It was madness. He felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder. His heart skipped a beat and spun around quickly, the feeling of weakness suddenly forgotten. Behind him stood a large dark-skinned man, dressed in a standard combat-suit with a heavy pistol strapped to his hip. In his left hand, he carried a small, dark briefcase. He looked down on Peter with sharp, dangerous eyes, before his gaze drifted to the angel who had finally gone silent.
“Does that bother you?” the man asked in a voice that made the hairs on Peter's arms stand up.
He tried to speak, but his voice refused his commands. He just nodded instead.
“But is this not why you fought?” the man continued.
“N-no, it's not, “ Peter replied
“You should go. Now.” the man said softly, barely more then a whisper
“What? Why?”
“You should go,” the man repeated calmly and let his gaze wander over the thousands of people gathered around them. For a moment Peter felt confused, but when he saw the look on the man's face, the confusion was replaced by terror. The man's eyes were filled with resentment and disgust. But that was not what frightened Peter. It was the mouth, that curled up slowly in a thin, malevolent smile. It betrayed that beneath the superficial layer of hatred lay something far more dangerous: joyful anticipation
Peter did not hesitate for a second. He turned around and ran away as fast as he could, pushing his way through the crowd. He did not look around, not even when the screams of panic started.

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Taaresh did not know why he spared the boy. Perhaps it was the innocence still clearly visible in his eyes or the unease he had felt at the sight of blood being spilled. But the boy was as guilty as everyone else. He had come out celebrate one of the most abhorrent crimes ever committed. Nor had he spoken up when they butchered a helpless individual. He should have died along with the others. Mercy seemed like a strange concept to apply, when you were sent to punish. But then again, he was not one for philosophical musings. Besides, odds were good the boy would not see the end of this day.
He walked up the once-winged creature who had been mercilessly cut down a few minutes earlier. . As he got closer, he could see it was still alive. Although it's body had gone silent, it's crystal blue eyes still moved around slowly within their sockets. Taaresh knelt down next to the fallen angel. He felt it's eyes fix upon him.
“Don't worry. I've come to bring the wrath of God,” he said, nodding towards the briefcase
A flash of surprise was visible in the angel's eyes and he suddenly seemed more alive
“Vincere sent me to finish some business.”
The angel managed to produce the faintest of smiles, although it seemed to cause him extreme agony. Taaresh put down the briefcase on the ground and pressed his right thumb on snake-symbol. The scanner located underneath read his DNA in an instant. A second later the briefcase folded open, like a flower, revealing the precious contents hidden within. A metal rack, containing hundreds of tiny little vials, each as black as the night sky. It slowly started to rise, without making a sound, until it hovered high above the heads of the gathered masses. A few looked up and pointed at the oddity in the sky, but most paid little attention to their impending doom.

One by one the vials exploded in a organized fashion, like the demolition charges used to bring down buildings. The sky slowly filled with a greyish mist as the contents of the vials spread out and started their descent towards the crowd below. Almost immediately the first effects became visible. A few people dropped to their knees, coughing up blood. Others grasped at their chest, desperate for air or started clawing at their own faces. They were the lucky ones. Their deaths would be painful, but quick compared to those who caught one of the more slow-acting agents, released from the briefcase. Each of the hundreds of deadly substances was unique and hand crafted by his former master. Some were simple chemicals, designed to killed outright, others complex bacteria that could take years to end the misery of those infected, while they spread the disease to those around them. And each agent contained the antidote for all others. Whichever of these entered your system first would determine your fate. Of course, Taaresh himself had been made immune to all of them. He stood in silence and watched on as the panic spread, as people started to realise what was happening. It was perfect. The fleeing masses would spread the agents of death far quicker then any standard method of delivery ever could. He was not sure just how many would die in the long run, but he did not doubt the number would be astronomical. Vincere was nothing, if not thorough.
He smiled . They would pay for what they had done to his mistress. They would pay for forcing his master away from his home. For banishing a being such as him into the cold, dark hell of outer space.

An hour later the large plaza was largely empty. All that remained were the thousands of corpses of those who's luck of the draw had granted them a quick demise or those who had been trampled in the ensuing chaos. There was coughing and moaning and sobbing all around him, from those who wished they had been so fortunate. Now there was only one thing left to do. To join his mistress on the other side and serve her until the end of time.
He slid his hand into his pocket and clasped the bankcard Vincere had given him before his departure. He threw in on the ground and crushed it beneath the heel of his booth. With one quick motion, he pulled the pistol from the holster, brought it up to his temple and pulled the trigger. His lifeless body the ground with a thump, indistinguishable from the many that surrounding, with one exception. He was the only corpse with a blissful smile upon its face.