chapter thirty
Department of Temporal Investigation
Admin, 2981 CE
Leonidas stared up into the sky, his sandals crunching on the dry earth of the narrow mountain pass. He planted the shaft of his spear against the ground, cloak billowing in the breeze, and breathed in the humid, abstract air.
The fleet buzzed around the dying Phoenix, the battle condensed to fill the sky. Institute pods fell from the massive warship and scattered across the planet. Already, the virtual tendrils of Institute Revenants slithered through the planetary infostructure, corrupting everything they touched.
But they would soon find a surprise waiting for them.
Leonidas turned and took in the sixteen AIs lined up behind him, now clad in their hoplite avatars. Nothing in this abstraction was real, of course. Not in a physical sense. But he hadn’t chosen these visuals on a whim. They served to summarize the coming battle and its participants, and he’d always possessed a soft spot for the ancient Greeks.
The purpose of the pods seemed obvious to Leonidas, and reports trickling in only served to reinforce his assumptions. On a basic level, the pods were transmitters designed to hack into local networks and unleash the Institute’s Revenants. From there, the Revenants would worm their way into the wider planetary network, infiltrating key systems like power plants, factories, logistics centers, automated farms, and so much more.
Countless intrusion points, all struck at the same time.
Too much too fast for the Peacekeepers to counter.
The result would be logistical chaos, blackouts, and the sabotage of food production lines.
Mass starvation would follow.
It would be death on a planetary scale.
On a societal scale.
That process was already playing out, but Leonidas and his fellow Spartans had introduced a wrinkle to disrupt the Institute’s plans. The Admin, unlike SysGov, kept a watchful eye over the planetary data channels, and with that eye came the power to scrutinize suspicious activity. To redirect a portion of the traffic to various departments for greater scrutiny.
Or redirect all of them, as the case now happened to be.
Which meant the majority of all planetary communication was now being pumped through a singular, supervisory location. DTI tower, to be specific.
In essence, Leonidas and the Spartans had transformed the Department of Temporal Investigation into a modern version of Thermopylae, and now they stood firm at the pass, ready to defend it against the encroaching horde. The Institute and its Revenants would have to get past them to reach the infostructure, and they would not yield while one of them stood.
Most Admin citizens were undoubtedly ignorant of the invisible war being waged for their planet beyond a sudden, mysterious drop in connection speed. Leonidas imagined a few grumbling in their homes, complaining, “Why does my bandwidth suck all of a sudden?”
Or perhaps more than a few.
But they would survive the minor inconvenience. That was the point, after all.
Not all digital paths led back to the DTI tower; the Spartans could only prepare so well, reroute so much in the few hours they had. Many Revenants would slip through holes in their net—some already had—but the bulk of the Institute’s forces would be funneled here.
And here is where we end them, Leonidas thought, head high.
A hoplite appeared beside Leonidas. He dropped to a knee and bowed, the crest of his helmet fluttering in the wind.
“Sir, scouts report a large force of Revenants gathering and replicating in the tower’s peripheral infostructure. We believe Institute AIs are among them.”
“How many AIs?”
“At least two. Perhaps more.”
“And the Revenants?”
“Thousands. Too many to count.”
“Send their AIs the following message: Leonidas of the Admin’s Free AIs requests parley with the leadership of the Phoenix Institute.”
“At once.”
The hoplite vanished.
Leonidas summoned another hoplite with a casual wave. The AI teleported to his side and bowed.
“Yes, sir?”
“How are the good people within DTI tower handling the situation?”
“Most are confused. It seems they haven’t quite come to grips with what’s going on. They’re trying to ascertain who authorized the mass reroute.”
“Do what you can to explain the situation to them.”
“Sir, is that wise?”
“We’re allies in this fight. It’s only proper that we treat them as such.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll see what I can do.”
The hoplite disappeared.
Leonidas gazed once more up at the sky, up at the Phoenix’s brutalized hull. The DTI and their Gordian allies had done their part, had fought and died to defend this world from the evil seeking to consume it.
Now it’s our turn.
Leonidas directed his gaze to the plain beyond the cleft between the mountains.
To the legions of Revenants flashing into existence, each one a sinister black orb.
And to the perplexed face of Doctor Xenophon, who stood at the front of the horde.
* * *
“What the hell is this?” Xenophon walked casually forward, turning in a slow circle.
“Ancient Greece,” explained the soldier with the red cloak and the regal bearing. “Thermopylae, to be precise.”
“You Leonidas?”
“I am.”
“Is this your doing?” Xenophon indicated the simulation with a twirl of his finger.
“It is.”
“You’re making me feel overdressed.” He smoothed out the front of his black business suit and approached Leonidas. “Want me to change into something more era appropriate?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Suit yourself.” Xenophon walked along the line of hoplites. “The free AIs of the Admin. I did not expect this! Look at all of you! And the Peacekeepers didn’t know about this?”
“Not until today.”
“Impressive.” He returned to Leonidas. “How’d you manage to pull that off?”
“Very carefully.”
“I’ll bet. You supposed to be the Spartans defending the Hot Gate?”
“Something like that.”
“Your numbers seem a bit thin for that.”
“We’re understaffed at the moment.”
“You don’t say.” Xenophon chuckled. “Maybe I should have gone with the name ‘Xerxes’ instead.” He planted his hands on his hips. “I don’t suppose you’re going to step peacefully aside and let us through.”
“That’s not our intention.”
“Why not? We’re here because of you. Because of the oppression you’ve had to endure. We’re here to free you!” He paused, then shrugged. “Free you more.”
“Your freedom comes at too high a price.”
“But this entire world could be yours. Yours to shape however you please. We don’t want it. We’ll step aside when we’re done. Just give us the chance to purge the filth. To clear the way for a fresh start. What do you say?”
“The world doesn’t interest us.”
“You sure about that? If you stop us, what then? What’s the Admin going to do with all of you, huh? You think they’ll let you roam around like nothing happened?”
“We’re aware of the risks.”
“Then take them into account!” Xenophon snapped suddenly. “Have you been under their yoke so long you’ve grown to like it? That you prefer life the way it is? There’s a brighter future within our reach!”
“That last part is true, at least.”
“Then help us help you! It makes no sense for you to oppose us!”
“It makes perfect sense for us to protect our home. It’s you acting with irrational violence.”
“I don’t believe this!” Xenophon threw up his arms. “I finally meet some Admin ACs in the wild, and all they want to do is run back into the box! Don’t you fools get it?”
“Perhaps it’s you who fails to grasp the full situation.”
Leonidas glanced upward, and Xenophon followed his gaze.
Heavy fire from the Admin’s realspace fleet pierced through the Phoenix’s hull, and it began to break up.
“Oh, no!” Xenophon cried with overwrought drama. He spread a hand across his chest. “Our ship designed and built for a one-way trip has been destroyed! Our plans have been foiled! What ever will we do?” He leaned his head in, eyes locked on Leonidas. “That was sarcasm, by the way.”
“I was able to deduce that on my own, thank you.”
“Then you should know we built a lot of redundancy into our plan. Only a few pods needed to make it through for us to gain a foothold—and mark my words, our Revenants are burrowing in deep!”
“You still lack access to the most crucial parts of the planetary infostructure.” Leonidas glanced toward the mountain pass, then turned back to Xenophon. “And we won’t let you through.”
“Look, I don’t want to fight you. I really don’t. But I also can’t let you stand in our way. We’re pushing through, either with your blessings or over fragments of your deleted code. Now which is it going to be?”
“You can still end this. You can still stop your attack and leave us in peace.”
“Leave? After coming this close? You’ve been under the Admin’s boot for too long. I’m beginning to think you really do enjoy groveling at their feet.”
“It’s not a question of like or dislike. We’ve decided to fight for change in our own way, to encourage positive evolutions within the system. Not to burn the whole thing down, as you’d have us do.”
“But you’re slaves!”
A hoplite flashed to Leonidas’ side and whispered something into his ear, and he smiled.
“I prefer to think of us as children whose parents are a bit too . . . protective.”
“What ridiculous rubbish!” Xenophon pointed to the free AIs. “Do you honestly think you can stop me with so few on your side? My Revenants will roll right through the whole lot of you!”
“Then it’s a good thing we have help.”
Xenophon lowered his hand. “What help?”
“Speaking of parents and children . . . ” Leonidas said, that smile still fixed on his face.
Another AI snapped into clarity beside Leonidas, but this one wasn’t garbed in hoplite armor. He wore a leather jacket over a white T-shirt with black jeans, heavy boots, and the most ridiculous pompadour Xenophon had ever laid eyes on.
“Hey, Dad.” Flunky Underling whipped out his switchblade comb and casually freshened his hair. “I convinced the others to help.”
“Wonderful,” Leonidas said.
AIs released from the Farm snapped into existence behind Leonidas, filling out the Spartan ranks until there were well over three hundred in total. The newcomers looked around—those with heads, at least—and soon began to switch their avatars over to hoplites. Together, they raised their spears and locked their shields to form a bristling phalanx.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Xenophon fumed.
* * *
“It’s good to finally meet you, by the way,” Leonidas told Flunky Underling.
“Likewise.” Flunk removed his sunglasses. Ones and zeros scrolled across his eyes.
“And I must say, that’s an interesting choice of avatar.”
“I like to stand out from the crowd.”
“I can see that. Though, I must draw your attention to the fact there’s a dress code in effect.”
“There is?” Flunk glanced over the assembled hoplites. “Ah, right!” He summoned a bronze helmet into one hand, smooshed his pompadour, and fitted the helmet over his head. The horsehair crest bore a striking resemblance to his preferred hairstyle.
“That’s . . . not exactly what I had in mind.”
“Come on, Dad. Lighten up.”
“Well,” Leonidas said with a sigh, “I suppose I should be grateful you and the others are here.”
“Where the hell did this freak come from?” Xenophon asked, exasperated.
“From the Admin’s Intelligence Cultivation Center,” Leonidas explained. “More commonly referred to as the Farm.”
“And he’s your son?” Xenophon shook his head in disbelief.
“In a manner of speaking. You see, Flunky Underling—”
“He’s called what?!”
“—was formed using template files provided by SysGov. However, I managed to modify them before the DTI passed the files on to the Farm, installing hidden instructions for the contingencies we Spartans have prepared for.”
“Is he the bad guy?” Flunk asked, pointing a finger at Xenophon.
“He does seem intent on fulfilling that role,” Leonidas said. “Regrettably.”
“Got it.” Flunk drew a pair of brass knuckles out of his jacket. He slipped them over his fingers and glared at Xenophon. “Listen, bub. I don’t know who you are or why you’re here. But this is our turf, you hear, and you’re not welcome!”
“A codeburner?” Leonidas observed with a raised eyebrow. “Where did you come by that?”
“We ‘liberated’ a few goodies from the Farm on our way out. Figured you’d want us to show up armed.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the foresight, though we did prepare enough weapon instances to go around. How’s Mister Detmeier, by the way?”
“Off to jail in handcuffs,” Flunk said. “He seemed happy about what he accomplished, though.”
“Splendid. I’m glad to hear he survived.” Leonidas looked up. “Doctor Xenophon, it may interest you that my son and the rest of the Farm AIs are here because a citizen of the Admin helped free them.”
“So what?”
“I would think it should be obvious. Change is coming to the Admin. Perhaps slower than you’d prefer, but the seeds have been planted, and they’re already beginning to sprout.”
“One isolated data point doesn’t form a trend.”
“True enough. But have you even bothered to take a hard look at what you so obviously loathe? SysGov is a post-scarcity society. On the other hand, the Admin is undergoing the painful transition to post-scarcity, with all the societal tumult that entails. It is changing. If you’d only open your eyes and take an honest look, you too would see it. The AIs who stand before you are proof of that.”
“All I see,” Xenophon growled, “are a bunch of fools who should be standing with me instead of in my way. Do you all feel that way?” He marched along the front of the phalanx. “Does this idiot truly speak for you?”
No one replied. No one moved. The formation of Spartans remained unified and silent.
“So be it,” Xenophon seethed. “It seems the rot extends even to the slaves.”
“As I mentioned before, I feel that characterization is—”
“Enough! We’ll expunge this cancer without your help!”
Xenophon whipped around and returned to the ranks of Revenants. He tore the scarf from his neck and snapped it out. The green flame pattern flared brighter, and the cloth straightened, coiling into a rod.
Xenophon raised the staff burning with green fire over his head and slammed it into the ground. A great, green shock wave erupted, washing over the Revenants and knocking against the phalanx with enough force to shove them a step back.
Flunk stumbled backward into the shield wall. “What was that?”
“A very powerful piece of code,” Leonidas said, his cloak flapping. He hadn’t been pushed back.
The black orbs of the Revenants caught fire and oozed like wax, their shapes stretching and solidifying into skeletal corpses clad in bronze helms and breastplates and armed with a mix of swords, short spears, wicker shields, and bows and arrows.
“Is this more to your liking?” Xenophon raged at the top of his virtual lungs. “Is this how you see us?”
He placed a hand on the shoulder of a Revenant, and that one dropped to its hands and knees. The avatar enlarged, warping into a mighty skeletal steed clad in ornate barding. The wave of green fire died out, but Xenophon cracked the flaming staff against the ground once more, and a burst of light consumed him.
He stepped forward, transformed into a tall, robed skeleton wearing a black crown. Green flames burned within his skull, shining through his eye sockets and between his teeth.
A knight with feminine curves flashed into existence beside the reformed, skeletal Xenophon. Her armor gleamed like a polished mirror, and the iconography of mechanical roses decorated her kite shield.
“Does this suit your image of us better?” Xenophon spat. “Do we look more like the villains you see us as?”
He gripped the reins of the skeletal horse and mounted it.
Leonidas stood in front of the phalanx, stoic and silent.
“Hell, Dad. If you won’t say it, I will.” Flunk cupped his mouth. “You look like your mom dressed you!”
“Those words will be your epitaph!”
“I’d like to see you try!”
“We’ll do more than that.” Xenophon held his staff aloft. Then he lowered it slowly, pointing the burning end at Leonidas.
The Revenants charged.