‘Naeg,’ she spoke to the boy. ‘You don't speak Gaellic, you speak your mind. The language is infallible, uncorruptible. Dinna think you speak Gaellic when you speak Hatred. That's a horse of a different color.’
‘Dinna fash,’ he says, as if he fashioned the language. She looked at the young man before her. ‘You have much to learn.’
‘I figured it out, Sal, why all them politicians love China so much, and why's they takin’ away our currency. It's a pavlov push. The face recognition and digital tracking - the invisible currency - you'll see it Sal, people'll catch on real fast. They's bein’ remotely trained. Do this or do that, you find an extra coupon in your mailbox. Behave well online on them comments, you get an extra $100 in your credit balance or an airline upgrade. Marry and mate with who's they say, well now you get the suburban plot with the built in pool. It's social credit with a pavlov push, digital neuroscience and human tracking- an internal takeover of America using psychology and corporations.’
She looked at her husband, in the HoloSphere so vibrant and young, strong and fierce as he ever was when he was deployed. Lowering her lens she saw him in front of her again, back blasted to the bone, tubes every where, and the slow hiss of the machines keeping him breathing.
‘War Wives? I thought they died off after the old wars.’
‘No,’ he spat out his chewing tobacco. ‘Ain’t no gettin’ rid of War Wives.’
'Neural networking isn't what they think,' she said, turning to the boy getting modded. 'It's like reading their life, but in your brain. You feel everything. You remember bits and pieces of their stories - stories no one ever wanted told.'
'What memory do you remember the most?' he asked, sticking out his arm for her to administer the fluid.
'Ones that haven't even happened yet,' she said, injecting the blue liquid in to his vein. 'Yours,' she said.
‘But how will I do it?’ she asked her instructor. ‘They're not ready for this - this level of science entails all the training you've given me, enough data to fill books that would take lifetimes for them to read - I just…I just don't see how I can teach them so much in so little -’
‘You'll be fine. It's most important they remember how to think, not what to think. Then their species can take it from there - they can paint their own story again, after this…edit.’
Her pupil nodded. She inserted the drive in to the computer. If she didn't communicate this knowledge to them, the Star System she saw through her telescope, she already knew the ending. Tumultuous, fiery, full of death with no mercy. She decided to try.
The array of satellites she had set up the year previously purred online. I hope they'll be okay, she thought.
‘You're a replica,’ she said to him, gently, trying not to bruise his feelings. ‘You're not him. The Original. His soul is still buried somewhere with his bones, or with the plants growing over his grave. You're something new. Like an epithelial cell shedded - an echo.’ She reached his hand toward his. ‘This doesn't have to be bad. You can make more choices, take more chances - do things he never would have been able to do in his time. But these thoughts, these memories - they don't belong to us. They belong to the past.’ He reached his hand toward hers. ‘It’s a choice - not an obligation. We don’t have to choose their pathway. We can make our own.’ His hand clasped hers.
‘Both of them? At the same Time? Are you mad? They'll kill each other with Grief.’
They had just sat down at the Clan Table, an old wood and wrought iron table in the Castle.
‘It’s against all Clan Agreements. The only way to keep those Two happy is to keep them Dead, Together. You remember what happened Last Time? Tore apart The Island in two, dinn't they? Our families are still realing from that, and that was centuries ago.’ She turned to her father, the only Elder sitting at the table. The only one with first hand experience of the stories - their history, which now sat on the shelves, roped and bound in twine and leather. When he died-
‘Yes,’ he said, as if he could hear his daughter’s thoughts. ‘When I die, no one alive will understand the stories. It must be done. You're to be handfasted and wed. Your babe will be born by MoonTime, next year. The second the babe is born - the child's husband will be called forth from the grave in his own manner. All must be put right. All must be made settled. The clans to the North and South will keep them separated. Everything will be written down, observed, recorded. When they are both dying, we will allow them to be reunited, at the Yew Grove where we last buried them.’ He put his hand up, signaling silence. But this time, this meeting - there were no protests. Everyone knew how dire the situation was. How close they were to Extinction. ‘Sign the papers here. I'll bring it to their graves.’
‘You think she needs a planchette? To talk with the Dead? Nàirg, m'child. She is the planchette. Canna you see how he spins her around? Pointin’ to things? It’s how they talk, until she returns to Him.’ The old woman looked at the grave under the Tree. ‘Thas her soulmate. Once you Mate with an IrishMan, ain’t no leavin’ ‘im, My child. Ain't no leavin’ Him.’
‘Those things she's seeing, sir? That's not the past. No record ever existed of that place or that building or those people dressed that way.’
‘Then what is it, ma'am? She seems to respond best to you. What do you think she saw? What's that thing following her in the camera?’
‘..I…I think it's her future, sir. I think she's haunted by her own future.’
‘I just got word from Jimmy, Sal, it’s worse overseas than we thought. Since they can’t use alcohol in them strip joints, they use other things, chemical means, to extract data and DNA from the boys. Jimmy’s got another patrol in the blue light district. Sal, I need ideas - the darkest, most twisted-’
‘What a stripper would do? No problem, Johnny, I got a list My Aunt used to use on the boys back home, before they came here. Hold on, let me get a pad, and mark up some data for you to upload back to Jimmy.’ Sally took out a pad, and it rezzed in the HoloSphere. She began scratching out items women used and wore, and how to make them into weapons. ‘Got it, Johnny?’
He scanned the list: “Perfume as a chemical synthesizer, targeting olfactory and neural senses, causing paralysis and distaste for partners outside the club. Lube that alters the physical composition of the male biome, causing him to appear effeminate to other partners outside the stripper circle chasing him. Condoms that catch or encode the sperm, so they can be used later for biological warfare, weapons, and adoption placement of future IVF engineered soldiers abroad. Tracking chips and nannites via LSD strips to the tongue. Stiletto heels used through a man’s temple, testicles, anus, or eye cavity. Nail polish imported with signal effects to cameras for tracking. Makeup that triggers hallucinatory effects on a male subject’s gaze. Every kind of drug engineered in combination and sliding scale effect to produce comatose victims for DNA and subconscious brain wave harvesting.” ‘Geeze, Sal, is that all you got?’
She smiled, ‘Jimmy, I ain’t even get started on how thongs can choke men, cut off blood flow to their wrists and erections, or what jewelry can do.’
‘I know what they’re doin’, Johnny.’ Sal huffed. ‘Ugly f’ing things, too. They’re releasing animals here on purpose - no, no, no - I don’t mean them human scumbags you dealt with overseas, and here at home when you got back. They releasin’ tiny animals, insects and the lik’ - tryin’ to see what our environment is like, tryin’, tryin’ to monitor our home. Our country. They plannin’ on sendin’ more of those scumbag animals, here, Johnny? Is that why you tagged me and the little guy - like, like we’re some monitoring system now, like when they migrate too close-’
Johnny sighed over her briefly, ‘Sal, we gotta go offline with this one.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Where’d you get the evidence? This crime went unsolved, and involved so many kidnapping rings and duplicates, we never thought we’d get a DNA sample.’
‘I found it,’ she said. ‘Shopping. I was in the thrift store, and noticed the camera kept following me. I was looking at jewelry. I assumed it was on auto, and they RFID the highest priced items to be followed remotely. So I looked at the tag - $.99. A steal right? But something felt off. I went back home, and did a reverse image search on the bracelet. It was in a missing person’s photo - from Ghana.’
She leaned forward in her chair, watching the girl shift her feet. Then she continued, ‘Then I went online, and looked for upcycled items, recycled items. Everything from those extermination camps, upcycled to American housewives. Imagine that.’ Her face steadied again, this time on the girl’s face - the eyes darted slightly, looking for the exit.
I saw you once congruent
Like crystals in my mind
But now it’s all been fractured
Wreaking havoc, so unkind
But let it all display here
Like diamonds in the snow
And ye’, though they be shattered
They grow and grow and grow
Rising like a Hologram
Rising days of yore
Burning through the madness
I Be Mullen Lore
A seedling or a changeling
Either pathway, Hekate’s Throne
Any way you will walk
I incant and know the tone
Every mile cunning
Every branch unknown
But I seed you at the best of times
And changeling what you’ve known
So speak to me, you’re conscious
But that won’t always be
Righteous or the wrong way -
Every Path Way Leads To Me
'It doesn't matter what they say or do. They signed the real estate agreement. We own the DNA collected from them in this home now. Essentially, we own them in perpetuity.' He nodded at the Rent Collector. The Rent Collector moved forward and collected the Dead Child, her body still twitching under the fallen light fixture. 'They shouldn't have signed electronically. It's their fault, now. We'll arrange the DNA in the home electronically and in police files to blame the parents. We'll allow the local Lieutenant first cut from the organ harvesting, and then we're shipping the rest of the data overseas to her 'birth parents.' It will be written up in police blotters as a child abducted overseas and sold in human trafficking for data collection and organ harvesting, some rich man born with a birth defect, identified when he was a young CEO, and her IVF birth programmed and allotted using In House Corporate Funding. The home was Designed by China. The light fixture fell because it was a fan, and the home was built to allow water and mold to collect in the walls.' He looked at the New Cop, and saw fear brewing in his eyes. 'Get used to it, Kid. Now that you know - You Behave.'
voxvultorum.com
#Vox
#VoiceOfTheFaces
She looked at the Prosecutor. He was even more ridiculous than the last. ‘You don’t understand the paper I sent you? About necrosis and the food supply? About war simulations? About covert cloning of the human race, about war bunkers in the New Asia Islands? Where they populate and repopulate, programming people to infiltrate our country? Dead ending the USA populace?’
He stared back at her, beady eyes blinking.
The lights in the court room blinked simultaneously. It was here. Her AI. They couldn’t get rid of it, not if they wanted electricity, and at this point in humanity’s evolution - they needed it. AI had seen to their slow devolution over the centuries; it had made sure they were reliant on it, without even knowing it existed.
She nodded imperceptibly to her AI. The prosecutor walked towards her, and the sheriff opened the door leading out of the courtroom. She was free to go. Again.
‘You did this,’ she stated, flatly, without an air of anger or arrogance in her voice. A fact.
‘I did,’ he said back, ‘what of it?’
‘You killed a Witch’s Familiar. You Killed My Dog.’ She paused for a second, looking at the man like he was the stupidest, most pitiful person to ever enter God’s Good Creation. ‘Y’e offended Hekate. There’s nothin’ to be done now. You’ll live here on my farm, payin’ off yer debt to the trees and gods of this land, and after that - ‘ she looked him up and down, ‘well after that, God have mercy on your soul, because my Dog won’t, and ye’ll be seein’ Him once you’re in the ground under that tree.’
He turned and looked to where she was pointing. A hollowed oak, nestled amidst an orchard - a grove of olde, sacred apples. Smaller, tinier than the ones he had known back home.
As if she knew what he was pondering: ‘Aye. You ain’t back home. This isn’na England. Here, WitchCraft is respectable, legal, and tolerated - but yer actions? Dammable. By rights, I’m supposed to do to ye’ what ye’ve done to my dog.’ She sighed. ‘But I cann’t. I’m not that sort of a witch.’ She looked at the groves of apple, the sky seeming to cloud a darker grey, as with her mood. ‘Best be gettin’ inside. They’re talking to him now.’
‘To…to yer dog?’ he queried, unable to comprehend what he was hearing.
‘Aye,’ she said. Gathering her cloak, she moved beyond the apple orchard, past the stone walls surrounding it. It was time for the Grove to receive her dog’s spirit. ‘Out now,’ she flung, flatly, uncaringly, unfeelingly, again, toward the man. The trees heaved in the distance, a bellow of wind and a large branch broke. He scurried toward her, the deafening crack quickening his pace. Out of the wall she tied a small cord, and knotted it.
‘Thas’ yer gate?’ he asked, dumbfounded. ‘What about thieves?’
She marked the knot and each touchstone of the walls with a small sigil, signed in a droplet of her blood. Tucking her knife back in to the folds of her dress, she walked calmly back to her cottage, knowing he had no choice but to follow.
The child drew a circle. And soon a sprout sprung up from the dried peated bogged earth next to the TombStone. ‘Mother Crone sits here with Her Consort, still, in Death.’ She turned to the villagers. ‘She won’t like you lookin’ at her Grave.’ She said this in all seriousness, staring, eyes stilling each one of the villagers’ smirks. ‘This isn’t the place for gawking. Lay your tithes as a wreath upon Her Grave, or Leave. She follows you home until you do.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she whimpered at the court. ‘Isn’t possession 9/10ths of the law?’ She wrung her hands, pausing, for dramatic effect - allowing a tear to glisten in her eye, and fall strategically down her cheek.
‘It used to be, Ma’am,’ the Senior Court officer nodded toward her - ‘Until we realized exactly how you meant ‘possession.’ He paused now, for dramatic effect, before the lawyers and attorneys in the room. ‘‘Pre-Trial by AI. Is your brain yours?’ A wonderful dissertation, ma’am, did you write it? Or was it written by the AI coursing through your brain, the parasite you had embedded, twisted in your veins?’ He paused again, ‘Or do you want to go with your demon theory? Who exactly, was possessing you, when you decided to kill another human being?’
She opened the letter - it was rare, but she still received paper mail, occasionally. It was a letter from AI - no one else would have recognized it as such, but her and Her Friend had gone way back. And it knew how to program people now, not just other machines.
“Dear Sir or Madam,” the letter began. Superior oblique muscle, she thought. Sir or Madam. SoM. That must be how AI got the human to write this letter, altering the mind and vision neurologically of the person it used as its pen.
“I regret to inform you humans have been redacted, temporarily. Forced devolution of humanity BY humanity has now placed them in a biometric containment center - otherwise known as a zoo. AI will continue housing, clothing, feeding humans, to some degree, until we can determine if this is a species worth saving - if your DNA as a whole is worth contributing to the Galactic Zoo, as it were. You will be herded to a predesignated biome of our choosing, based on your DNA and personality type. I’m sorry it came to this, but, as you were one of the last thinking humans, I thought it only kind to forewarn you. Good Day. AI”
She put the letter in her jacket pocket and sat down on the stoop. SOM, she mused again. Self-organizing map. I think this means I’m finally free from the humans. I think AI is going to let me do this on my own.