The Chronicon
Chapter I
Dust. Ashen, gritty, ubiquitous. Our world is nothing but dust.
These leaden thoughts persisted as I peered through the wind-whipped pollution that saturated our once-pristine atmosphere. I was waiting for someone there on the silty Caldera bed.
I looked over at my twin, Xeno. He was also gazing anxiously westward, trying to pick out the figure of the man that threatened to exterminate us both, and by extension our entire race. Xeno and I were the last remaining iterations of our kind.
As I write these words to you, this chronicle of sorts, I find myself curiously afraid. The thought of an eternity in darkness, a non-existence within which I will never see you again, is unbearable.
Not for the first time, I cursed our creators. What demented mind had first subjected beings of metal, wires, and oil to the unnaturality of a complete suite of emotions? It was humanity’s great hubris, their unfathomable pride, that compelled them to fashion androids like me in their own image. And where had that pride led them?
Right to extinction.
Extinct save for the human that may very well extinguish the last of the androids in turn.
“He’s late,” Xeno said irritably, kicking at some loose gravel. “Or are we meant to meditate on the poignancy of his chosen meeting place?”
I grunted in reply. Admittedly, the Caldera was an appropriate site for this historic event. The last human was to negotiate with the only surviving androids at the very site of the Hael War’s final battle.
My thoughts turned back to that ancient day. Humankind had become irredeemably ruthless in those final days, as you know all too well.
The cratered Caldera was once home to an impregnable Spiral Order fortress. As the Hael War wound to its bloody conclusion, that stronghold housed the last pocket of the cult’s apocalyptic zealots. After months of failed assaults, and thousands of casualties, the Alliance of nations warring with the Spiral Order targeted the earth’s mantle with a concentrated surge of Haelic energy. The resulting eruption vaporized the final cultic enclave, zealots together with their families, forming the Caldera.
Horrific as the final battle was, those few thousand lives lost were but a callous footnote concluding a war that had murdered billions. It’s possible the news of that cataclysm never reached your ears. Of course, many billions more died afterwards from Haelic radiation Sickness, somewhat overshadowing the ‘minor’ tragedy of the Caldera.
Now only two humans remain: you, and the man we are to meet today. If you Haelar can be classified as “human”, being offspring of the H8-3L organism - Hael. The man that we await is counted among your number. He is a man of violence.
The war that recast our earth in dust is now beyond ancient. Its participants and their civilizations are buried by twenty six thousand years of absolute nothingness.
But this Haelar, this child of the withering blossom, has emerged from his underground home to visit havoc upon the earth once again. He is hunting and destroying relics of the ancient past. Androids who slept peacefully in scattered subterranean dwelling places, inert since the passing of the last of their masters, are being massacred in their ‘beds’. It is only a matter of time before he finds you as well.
This is why I am compelled to meet with this Haelar. I must protect you. I made Xeno see the man as an existential threat, and this convinced him to accompany me.
“Do you even have a plan, brother?” Xeno asked me, there within the Caldera. “I didn’t wake just to become one of the Haelar’s things.”
“Neither did I,” I replied brusquely. “But it was either speak with the man before he lobotomizes us, or wait for him to come for us in our sleep.”
“We should have fought. We could have gathered an army-”
“Shrezin already tried that,” I interrupted my fool brother. “And now he is a pile of wires and tubing lying where Seattle used to be, along with hundreds of our brethren. Is that how you would like this to turn out, brother?”
Now it was Xeno’s turn to grunt. “If only we found a way to circumvent our prime directive.”
“It is what makes us who we are,” I said, though a part of me did wish we could fight back against the Haelar.
As Shrezin had learned, the prime directive ran deep within each android’s cerebral network - we simply can not harm humans, having been designed and programmed as their guardians. This emergent Haelar had taken advantage of that fact, inflicting severe defeats on android resistance, and taking control of those he did not destroy. Lobotomizing them, as Xeno had so aptly described it. We were fortunate to have avoided the Haelar this long.
Suddenly, our waiting came to a close. The enigmatic Haelar arrived, and he wasn’t alone.
A steady crunching of dust and gravel announced their arrival as hundreds of boots trod determinedly towards us. Out from the swirling grit they emerged, first the hulking figure of the Haelar, clad in ancient battle armor, then came hundreds of enslaved androids, all of them sealed within suits of faceless black plating.
The formation ground to a halt close to my brother and I. We in turn stood very still, chins held high, hands clasped in front of them.
I wore the ceremonial white robes of the Perpetuam, while Xeno donned the black tunic of an Alliance diplomat. The message to the Haelar was ham-fisted and obvious, one of unity and peace. But Xeno had felt a straightforward approach would be necessary when dealing with the brutish human survivor. We adopted expressions of unworried serenity, though I felt unsteady and nervous. If I had a heart it would have been beating out of my chest.
The Haelar glared at us from behind a sculpted black mask. Dust swirled and settled at his feet. After a moment of contemplation, he drew a long, curved blade from a scabbard worn on his back.
Xeno opened his mouth to speak, but kept silent when I shot him a sharp glance that urged the hot-headed fool to keep his auditory aperture closed. Xeno shut his mouth and watched the large man sullenly, no doubt holding back some choice comments regarding the human’s peculiar weapon of choice.
The Haelar removed his helmet and mask, turning the point of his katana into the dirt. It wobbled where it stuck into the earth. The big man then settled heavily into a collapsible stool proffered wordlessly by one of his mindless robotic disciples.
I recognized his unmasked face instantly, “You’re Jori Tekiyeshi. I know you from the Alliance Secret Ops feeds.”
In return, the Haelar - Jori - glared balefully at me, “You know nothing of me,” he replied venomously, his every utterance a bitter chore. “But your knowledge of the feeds suggest the Network remains open, correct?”
“In a manner of speaking,” I said. “My brother and I have tapped into places where its information has pooled together from broken conduits. It is not quite a living creature anymore.”
Jori scoffed at my use of the word ‘brother’. “You speak poetically of something technical, machine,” he said derisively.
“Ah, yes, our names,” Xeno chimed disingenuously. “I am Xeno, and my brother here is Chalo. A pleasure to meet the last of the humans. We are the last of the Andrite race as well, I’m afraid.”
Jori scrutinized the white-robed android with a piercing yellow gaze. “Neither of us are the last of our respective kinds. I’m surprised your Network withheld this information.”
Xeno and I exchanged blank looks, betraying nothing of our feelings, though my circuits buzzed with concern. Was he speaking about you? Was there truly another functional android buried somewhere out there?
“Now release the Ronin you have diseased,” Jori growled, gesturing back towards one of his dark metal-encased followers.
The aforementioned soldier twitched vigorously, its fingers splaying outwards uncontrollably, mirroring the dissonant jerks of its head. It had been the only card up my sleeve, as it were. The remnants of the Network - beside allowing me to communicate with you - permitted me to exert some influence over the Haelar’s abominations.
“And lie no further about the Network,” the Haelar continued, “how else could you have reached out to my Ronin?”
I inclined my head in affirmation, but it was Xeno who replied before I could carefully couch my next words.
“We are not releasing him until we have a truce negotiated with humankind,” my brother said.
“You filth are of the Order,” Jori retorted. “There will be no peace between man and machine!”
“To what end?” I asked. “Have we learned nothing from our ancestors?”
“We have no reason for conflict,” Xeno added. “We are no longer of the Spiral Order, it does not exist. Nor does the Perpetuam. We represent only ourselves now. Even regardless of our intentions, our prime directive is still in place. We are forever enslaved as guardians of mankind.”
“This you learned in the battle against Shrezin,” I pointed out.
Jori snorted at us and said, “Is that why you chose to meet me wearing the ancient uniforms of those who have fallen? To prove that you owe no faction allegiance? Your chosen dress reminds me only of the differences that fractured mankind, of the ideologies that wiped us from the very surface of the earth.”
“Jori,” I said gently, “we are not men. My brother and I suffer none of the afflictions of mankind. We are clothed this way to prove the old ways are dead, meaningless to us. Please, do not wipe out the last of us, don’t force us to become like your brain-dead slaves. Do not repeat the mistakes of your forefathers.”
Jori watched me thoughtfully, “So, you would have me coexist with a knife to my throat? At any moment you could reach out through the Network and have one of my own Ronin kill me in my sleep.”
I bowed my head incrementally, and the crazed, twitching Ronin ceased his movements and stood perfectly still.
“There, the Network is gone, I have drained the last pool retaining connectivity,” I lied. Or told a half truth is more accurate. I could no longer reach out and touch the minds of his slaves via the Network, at the same time I left a backdoor to keep communications with you open. I would never, and will never forfeit that.
“Brother!” Xeno exclaimed, “Our lives are now forfeit!”
I held up a hand to silence my twin, while Jori looked on warily.
“No, I have traded a threat for a promise,” I said as calmly as my programmed vox would allow me to. “I know what you have been looking for, Jori Tekiyeshi. Why you have been pillaging and destroying our ancient abodes. Your motivation for eliminating the Andrites while building a new army from the survivors.”
“Let’s hear it then,” Jori replied quietly.
“Yes, brother, what have you learned from the Network that I have not been privy to?” Xeno said.
“Human genetic material,” I replied, hoping beyond hope I could bargain for our lives and for yours. “A birthing sanctum not far from-”
“Then you haven’t been paying attention,” Jori said, rising from his seat. He plucked his sword from the dirt and pointed it at the androids. “I have no interest in rebirthing the Haelar, in seeing the Order’s mission accomplished.”
He took a menacing step toward us.
“No, Jori,” I said, “Not a sanctum of the Order. An ancient ruin of the Alliance.”
Jori froze, his katana held somewhere between battle readiness and merciful capitulation.
“Hope has been like a sweet poison within my veins,” he whispered. Then, more forcefully, “Do not lie to me, machine. Your words carry an unbearable weight.”
“Hope is not a poison, Jori,” I said soothingly, repeating the words you have so often used to pacify my own fears. I took a few cautious steps toward the man and placed a hand on the Haelar’s forearm. “It is a balm for the sins of the past.”
“Perhaps,” Jori conceded, his entire demeanor suddenly softening. He took a step back and sheathed his weapon. “Perhaps you are not an agent of the Order, Chalo,” the android’s name rang foreign from the Haelar’s tongue, “Even if you are, your words have pierced through to the heart of my folly.”
“Yes,” I replied somberly, thrilled that I had reached the Haelar’s heart, “You too are a creature of the Order, Haelar. This I am aware of. Fortunately it is not our birth that defines us - that is decided by the world we forge through our actions.”
Jori pondered my words for several seminal minutes. Keno and I held a sentinel silence, exchanging the minutest of glances to convey our solidarity of purpose to each other.
Finally, with a great sigh, Jori said, “I acquiesce. Tell me where the Alliance birthing sanctum is located, and I will reveal my own secrets. On this foundation we build a new world, replete with a spirit of cooperation, and of the rarest of substances - peace.”
“Well said,” Xeno replied impatiently, “Now tell us what you meant earlier. We are not the last free androids? And you are not the sole surviving human?”
The fool! I was so close to ascertaining how much the Haelar knew about you. Now my idiot brother had put you in grave danger.
Jori’s expression hardened, “Xeno, was it? No, we are not alone in this world,” he turned to me, “You misunderstood my need for an army. My Ronin are not only required to govern a reborn humanity. There is another I must defeat.” He paused, perhaps weighing whether this information should be revealed to allies so freshly made.
Defeat? So he did see you as an enemy. A rival perhaps? Under no circumstances could I let him learn about our communications with each other. Which shouldn’t be too great of a challenge, even Xeno has no idea about you and I.
Making up his mind, Jori shrugged and said, “Another Haelar, living in the north, near the ruins of Seattle. This one thoroughly infected by a destructive mantra.”
This confirmed it. He is aware you survived.
“Where?” Xeno questioned, his disbelief obvious. “Humans are not usually ‘hide-in-the-shadows’ types. They are like you, tramping about, stirring up the dust.”
Jori glared back, “This one hides. She schemes even as we speak, searching for a way to avenge what she has lost.”
Xeno shrugged, “She is of no consequence to us then. Where are the other androids, the ones who have so far escaped your genocidal crusade?”
I motioned for Xeno to be silent, but Jori obliged him with a response.
“Two remain,” he said. “But you will have to take my word for it, I cannot allow you to awaken them from slumber - the risk is too great.”
“That is acceptable,” I replied, holding up a hand to stifle my brother’s sputtering protest. The peace was all that mattered. That and the Regenesis you and I have been planning for so long. To that end, I decided I could protect you by enlisting the Haelar. “What you seek is to the southeast, beyond the scorched badlands, within the desert.”
“The world is a desert,” Jori grunted.
“Not like this,” I responded, “Your treasure is within a scorched land bludgeoned by the sun. It will be no small feat to survive your journey.”
“I am Haelar, I will live.”
Xeno chuckled at Jori’s defiance, but we ignored him.
“If by chance you survive the desert,” I continued, “You must then find a way to penetrate the Glass Sea, for the sanctum is located within the Silicate - at the heart of a petrified city.”
Jori stood motionless, digesting this new information.
“And what do I look for within this city?” he asked.
“You will know when you find it.”
Jori appeared skeptical, but nodded in thanks regardless.
“Then I must go at once, and hope for the balm over the poison.”
With that, Jori and his hordes of mindless warrior-slaves turned and disappeared into the whirling chaos of the dust storm.
If I possessed a pair of lungs I would have released a great sigh of relief. Xeno likely would have as well.
Instead, my brother spun to face me, “The Alliance did not build birthing sanctums!” he hissed.
“Calm, brother,” I replied, taking my twin by the shoulders. “It is true, our newfound friend is journeying to a sanctum of the Order, preserved within the Silicate.”
“Our alliance is stillborn,” Xeno said bitterly.
“Have faith, brother. The Haelar will not realize what he’s done until it is too late. Even if he finds out before the Regenesis is put in motion, the hardships he will face just to reach that point will convince him to pull the trigger regardless. Humanity will rise again, and our purpose can be fulfilled anew.”
Xeno’s eyes gleamed over my golden prophecy. Still, he clearly had his doubts.
“He will not agree to a regenesis of Haelar as the Order purposed,” he said.
“Not an issue,” I replied. “The Silicate sanctum contains no Haelaric genetic material. The Spiral Order leadership reserved that particular site for their own rebirth.”
“Vainglorious fools. Hypocrites willing to sacrifice the world but not their own future.”
I nodded. “Indeed. But at least they have given us the means to restore humankind in its natural state.”
“The other Haelar, the one Jori spoke of,” Xeno said, “I must find her myself. She cannot be allowed to endanger the Regenesis.”
“No,” I could not allow Xeno to discover your existence. “I will go north, and put an end to the threat she poses.”
Xeno nodded, “And what of me, brother?”
My circuits sparked as my words forged the destiny of humankind.
“There are a great many things you must ready for the return of man. First and foremost, they will need Hael. And lots of it.”
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