The Reclaimed

 

By Eli Wilkinson

From the Journals of Dr. Wilhelm Cushing, Director of Science, New Arcadia Department of Research and Development. 2634 C.E. (estimated date)

 

On the day that the world fell

And splintered went our moon   

The plants burned as if in hell

And all exposed smelled doom

Survived did we the lucky few

Deep under the rock falls reach

Until the Lord did make us new

And took us to the beach

For arise, arise New Arcadia Brave

The people need us strong

 We build over what was our grave

To lead a world gone wrong

 

Celia Cushing (Age: 12)

 

*Note: Talk to her about the dangers of blind Patriotism.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

            “It’s been seven months…” Vice Chairman William Lawrence bemoaned as his gaze rolled up to look at the splintered Moon.

            “Our records indicate that the base was subterranean even before the calamity, Sir. It will take some time to find the correct chamber.” A nearby researcher piped in. An uneasy silence settled in as everyone on the hill could tell that William was not amused for he knew that this was his reality and he didn’t need some sniveling little scientist correcting his every gripe.  It didn’t take a genius to know that William would rather be at the front lines with his troops but the cease fire his father agreed on with the neighboring city states meant his talents were required elsewhere. William was not much of a scientist, nor did he particularly like their presence, but one thing William excelled at was achieving results. Many an archeologist met his wrath and was sent packing back to the Grand City for even the slightest complaint. The only thing saving this bookworm from an untimely exit was the excitement over the new worker drones that had arrived and began working their way down to the dig site.         

Silhouetted by the late summer sun the drones marched in perfect rows of four, tools in hand, mindlessly trudging down the dilapidated road of a civilization long gone. Sunset is quickly drawing closer and soon the day shift drones would be put to rest and recharge. Replaced by a horde of new unfortunate souls who had lost their lives and now even in death have lost their liberty. The control unit around their necks makes sure of that. The last thing many enemy soldiers have seen is the vast red glow of the drone's cloaks overtaking them like a wild fire.

            William found comfort in watching the waves of glowing lights march at his whim from atop the hill where he placed his headquarters. He personally disliked the grotesque appearance of the Class C worker drones. Many of whom were patched together from various parts of people and in some cases in lieu of hands, having tools or weapons grafted directly to the flesh and bone. The Vice Chairman much preferred the Class A drones like his assistant, CK-253, who hardly had any scars and possessed some limited vocal capabilities. Privately, he also appreciates the presence of his pleasure drone, known only as BB, who fulfills his needs whenever he desires. For it had been 3 years since the passing of his wife Caroline and though he planned to someday remarry, his responsibilities recovering technology of the world before the calamity occupied him too much to truly give it much thought.

            What did constantly run through his mind was the relief knowing the control unit also prohibited the drone from remembering their past lives. For if they did remember, surely the drones would never willingly endure the demands put on them. It was no secret that the drones had become the backbone of the City-State. Because of them there was no need for a class of working poor. Every living child got the best education and every adult a position of leisure or management. Even here, almost 400 miles from the grand city, very few living adults were required to work. Those who did were only there to ensure the drones stayed on task, managed recharging stations, or were merely there to transport damaged drones back to the main drone manufacturing facility on the west shore of the Grand Lake running along the heart of New Arcadia.

            Normally a shift change was hardly a reason for the Vice Chairman to inspect the workers but today is a special day, for a new batch of new and improved worker drones had arrived on the Battle Hawk, a massive armored airship of steel and gas. Its massive steam powered propellers hissing as hundreds of drones marched out of the main hangar and towards the dig site. These drones came directly from science director Dr. Wilhelm Cushing and were rumored to be intellectually superior and more durable, capable of working days without recharge.  Soon all drones would receive the same upgrade, a move that Vice Chair Lawrence was uneasy about. It isn’t that he didn’t trust Dr. Cushing, for it was his work that allowed the creation of the drone army in the first place. But such an improvement could temporarily interrupt progress and not to mention the bleeding heart liberals back in the city would soon start to debate the morality of their usage with the drones becoming more and more like the living.

“What’s next, CK? Soon these drones will need to eat and sleep like the living. Can you imagine that? The cost of that?! Where do we draw the line? A slave is a slave and that’s all they should ever be. Don’t you agree?” Lawrence asked his trustworthy companion. CK was not able to respond, her look quizzical.

“Don’t give me that look. You know damn well what I am talking about.” He laughs. “I forget sometimes that you are one of them. Just a bunch of bells and whistles grafted onto a carcass. An empty shell of the woman you used to be. A shame really, you used to have such fire about you. Maybe after the upgrade my father ordered, you will truly understand me. Come. We are going to the excavation site to check out the new wares.”

“Yes, sir.” Her only response. She had understood his words, but something stopped her from responding. The more she dwelled on it; the only word that came to mind was “sadness”, whatever that meant.

            “The Chairman wants a report by days end, Gentlemen. Please tell me you have got something good for me. Lives are at stake.” The Vice Chairman busts out as he approaches the site foreman and his archeological consultant.

            “Some aircraft parts. It’s a metal alloy we’re not familiar with. Lighter weight and absorbs radio signals. Figure there is 4 or 5 old beat up birds under there.” Replied the Foreman.

            “We able to reverse engineer them? Any fully salvageable?” The Vice Chair was quick to hop on the subject.

            “And fuel them with what? Corn gas? Steam? These birds are parts. Just stealth metal and rusted junk we wouldn’t know what it was for.” This was clearly not the answer the Foreman wanted to give the Vice Chairman but he was an honest man trying his best.

            “And any sign of the weapon?” The Vice Chair diverted towards the consultant.

            “No sir. The aircraft are proof we are near where we want to dig. But an old base like this could have tunnels and underground bunkers. There is no telling where to dig. One would think the aircraft could transport what you are looking for. If we broaden the dig from this spot we may yet find a service tunnel or clue.” The Archeologist answered.

            “Fine, do it. I’m not happy gentlemen. If you can’t do it, I will find someone who will. We wouldn’t want your children to be transferred to the remedial schools, would we?” The Vice Chairman turned away and began to walk down towards the hard working drones further down the hill. “Results or reassignment!”

            The two men who had made significant progress could do nothing but shrug and sigh. Each knew that it would take a miracle to please their boss and like many before them reassignment seemed a forgone conclusion. “I wish he had something better to do.” The Foreman conceded.

            “Agreed. I’d give my left foot for a map right about now.” The Archeologist slinked away, massaging the back of his head and nearly getting run over by the large cart of rock being pushed up the hill.

            “Keep your head up! They don’t say sorry when they run you over!” The Foreman laughed to himself as he began redirecting his drone assistants. “Fire up the lights, get the torches and cut these aircraft down into reasonable pieces and send these to R&D immediately. Also alert the crew down the hill that they are about to get company.”

            “Report!” The Vice Chairman belts out as he trots into the lowest and largest of the dig sites.

            “Ah Vice Chairman, I am pleased to report that the new drones are working at peak efficiency. They work harder, dig faster, and hate to sound amusing here, but honestly, they smell better too.” A lesser Lieutenant pipes in as he emerges from his tent, a warm drink in hand.

            “I did not ask for the olfactory report but I would agree.” The Vice Chairman laughs briefly before remembering his place and drawing a serious tone once more. “I meant report on recovery progress.”

            “Well the previous shift just uncovered access to a large ammunition and weapons cache. The current shift is working to open the bunker for full recovery. We estimate that there are hundreds of side arms and rifles in there. But we have to dig cautiously as some small explosives were also discovered. We would not want to set off the entire bunker and waste everything.”

            “And large explosives?” The Vice Chairman asks as his eyes drift down to the workers removing the large sections of stone and dirt.

            “Negative.  I can’t imagine them being kept this close to the surface.” The over confident Lieutenant takes a long sip of his beverage as he turns back to the workers.

             Not ten yards off a large, physically imposing drone stops working and stands up straight to listen.

            “And why is that, Lieutenant?”

            “Well, Sir, if something was to happen and a large explosive were to go off, it would be better contained deeper in the bedrock. Less likely to start a chain reaction with the other weapons bunkers. Can you imagine all the rockets for them beat up aircraft going off at the same time? This place would be a crater. But I am sure your experts have pointed this out by now.”

            “Point well taken, Lieutenant. And yes, they have in their own way. I just wanted to see if you could tell it to me straight. Do you have a name?”

            “Danbury, Sir. Lieutenant 2^nd Class. Just arrived last week. New kid gets the night shift, I guess.” Danbury smiles as he is apparently not familiar with the Vice Chairman’s reputation.

            “Not anymore. Report to day shift day after tomorrow. I reward loyalty and results Lieutenant Danbury, 1^st Class.” The Vice Chairman offers his hand.

            “Thank you, Sir!” Danbury takes his hand and shakes it. But it is in this moment that William notices the eavesdropping drone.

            “YOU THERE! DRONE! GET BACK TO WORK!”

            A moment of dead air as everyone turns to the now furious Vice Chairman. “Did you not hear me, Drone?! Back to work!”

            “…No…” A deep familiar voice creaks out of the silence.

            “Danbury, what is that drones designation?” William demands.

            “IM-234 a class B labor drone. Arrived today on the Battle Hawk.” Danbury looks through his notes quizzically as if there must be some mistake.

            “Since when can class B drones speak? I think we have a spy amongst us!” A telescoping rod unclips from the Vice Chairman’s belt as he marches right up to drone who still keeps his back to the officers. It crackles with an electric snap as it flips out to full length. "Speak. Who are you?"

            "Who... are... I? No..." IM-234 looks down quizzically as if the answer is at the tip of his tongue but the answer eludes him. His eyes dance as his mind pictures fragments of thought as if in a haze.

            "I demand an answer. That is an order!" The rod now rests just millimeters from the back of IM-234's skull. Wisps of electricity dancing over the probes end as the now impatient Vice Chairman begins to tremor with rage.

            One.

            Two.

            Three.

            ZAP! Followed by another. Followed by another as the crackling echoes through the dig site. IM-234's electrified muscles are forced to contract and before long the large figure is down on the ground twitched in agony as the Vice Chairman lays in a fourth and fifth. CK watches from up the hill with familiarity and pity for the newly minted Drone. It is not the first time she has watched the Vice Chairmen get off to agonizing a poor defenseless drone but this time, the drone screamed back in pain, much like her and her Class A brethren. She could see it in William’s face that he wasn't finished yet as he gleefully went in for the final ZAP. This one was personal as the probe end stayed firm on the middle of the spine leaving IM-234's arms and legs desperately trying to ground themselves and not flail about.

            It was then that something happened that the Vice Chairman hadn’t accounted for. Instead of succumbing to the pain that was so joyfully exerted onto him, IM-234 used it to focus his mind. Images of what was didn’t matter right now, survival did, freedom more so. Fighting the pain a fist rises up to the control unit, then the other. Feeling his fists clench tighter and tighter with each shock the units casing began to bend, then break at the seams. A spark and the red light went out. What was once a distant thought seemed clear. Actions that were once forced became natural.

            "STOP!!!" The echoing scream bursts from IM as his fists pound down and dig in firm and he rises to his hands and knees. The probe end deactivates.

            "Who sent you? The Louisians? The Federalists? The Plainspeople? Who?" The Vice Chairman now holding the probe end in the sight of the still hooded, still slouched over figure.

            "I used to call myself plains person. Long ago. Before the war. Before the nightmare began." Now sitting up IM-234 finally sees with awoken eyes the disturbing nature of his current state of being. "My God, my arm. This is not my arm. Where is my arm!? And this leg... What am I? WHO am I?"

            "Good question." Violently grabbing the hood of the beaten down drone the Vice Chairman flings him upright. IM-234's once respectable and handsome face comes into clear view. Minus the scar across the eye, that had been replaced, the drone looked the same as the day the Vice Chairman killed the man who became the drone. His expression of shock, recognition, and dismay that such a man had been reclaimed was evident to Danbury and even CK.  "You."

            "You... What have you done to me now?!" IM-234 demands as he struggles with all his might to rise to his feet.

            "Stay down, General. I don't want to have to embarrass you again. They should have let you rot in that field. Tell me, did you meet your God?" William draws near while still keeping the probe dangerously close to his prisoners face.

            "I wouldn't know. You're men were too eager to gather up the pieces. They needed a real man in this army. Not a coward like you." A failed attempt to spit on the Vice Chairman brought William's electro rod down to his side with a chuckle. IM-234 could see from the corners of his eyes that the Vice Chairman's guards had arrived and several weapons were now fixed on him.

            "So you remember all the details then?"

            "I remember you crashing one of your aircraft into my base while not abiding by the rules of combat. Then mowing down those of us who survived."

            "It was pilot error on a routine reconnaissance mission. At least that's what the report says. You see it is harder to prove any such violations if every witness is dead. My men already were. Yours, well I... I guess I could say they are my men now. If you're here then surely they all got put into circulation."

            "You bastard! Those men and women had families!" Even with a strong gesture up to his feet, IM could hear the clutching of the rifles aimed his way.

            "Not after I got done with the town. I told you. No witnesses. Don't worry in the 2 years since, the place is prosperous. It is actually the 2nd largest producer of corn for New Arcadia. Not to bother you with the details. You could have prospered with us had you just joined with us."

            "We would rather die than be subservient to you."

            "And you would be correct. This tells me your memory recall is not just limited to the moment before I put a slug in that pretty eye of yours. Interesting. Now the real question, are you an outlier?" Now overly confident with his personal guard now present, he circles IM inspecting every scar and nuanced movement by the weakened drone. "I should destroy you right now and every fiber of my being wishes nothing more than to watch you burn. But you have information I now need. Is this some new Plainspeople tactic or… something else? Huh."

            "If you don't destroy me now, I will be the last thing you ever see."

            "Don't worry. Your time will come. Sooner than later. Sentries!" A flick of a wrist and a point of a finger and IM-234 was bound and being dragged up the hill towards the Battle Hawk, struggling the whole way. "Danbury!"

            "Yes, Sir?" The young Lieutenant snapped to the Vice Chairman's side.

            "Monitor all the new drones. Report to my office in New Arcadia if you find any further defectives."

            "Will do, Sir." A salute and nod later and the now 1st Class Lieutenant was already down the hill, getting the observing drones back to work. While in their nature to work when commanded, the fact they stopped showed a window of individuality to these drones. A fact the young officer was sure was going to lead to further issues. "Show times over folks. Back to the dig!" The best he could muster.

            The drone’s hesitation was not lost on the Vice Chairman either. He did not envy his new loyal Lieutenant, should there be an uprising of any sort the good man would the first in harms way. Not that it really bothered him though. He signed up for it and everyone has their time, he thought. And it wasn't like anyone in this society went to waste.

            "Foreman! I am taking the Battle Hawk back to New Arcadia City with this drone. You are in charge for the time being. I expect timely reports." The Vice Chairman belted out as he made his way up the hill to the resting airship. "I shouldn't be more than a couple days. Let my office know of any other defectives. They are to be apprehended immediately. Hold off on euthanizing until my office says so."

            "Yes sir." All the foreman could muster in disbelief and quiet relief as the Vice Chairman, CK, and his bodyguards vanished up the hill and into the hanger of the massive airship.  

            “You asked for a miracle.” The archeologist mused. “How’s that for a distraction?”

            “It bought us a couple days. But I share his concern. We should keep the old drones working as well. Just incase.” The Foreman ordered.

            “Agreed.  A drone with a soul… today certainly hasn’t been boring.” The archeologist takes a swig from his flask, offering it to the foreman who takes it and makes it a double.

            “Hardly the word I would use.” The Foreman closes his tent flap and vanishes into his schematics.

            Suddenly, the loud hiss of the Battle Hawk’s steam powered propellers floods the dig site, the gusts blowing open tent flaps, sending loose papers (including the foreman’s schematics much to his chagrin) flying.  Before long the massive ship had risen off the rocky terrain and headed off away from the now settled sun. The loud drumming of its steam engines fading into the distance as the Grand City awaits its return.