What are the holidays like on Voltza? Read on to find out. Featuring characters from T.J. Lockwood’s Gunmetal Greys.
MEMORIES WE HOLD CLOSE ARE THE SAME AS ENCRYPTED FILES LOCKED AWAY IN A COMPUTER. Every bit of code possesses a ghost—a feeling—associated with each second of recollection. The barriers between man and machine have always been thin at best. We really did create our tools in our own image, play god because it suited us, and found the treasure buried at the end of a long quest. Thing is, the treasure was useless because we had moved past what we needed in favour of what we wanted, and what we wanted was impossible.
No one lives forever.
Anyone who believes otherwise is a fool.
We are no different than the data we input. Does that make our memories biased?
Yes.
Absolutely.
“What are you doing here, Elias?” Her voice holds no emotion, but it is calming just the same. “I thought we agreed you needed to move on.”
Did we agree on that? It’s been so long. I can’t even remember… I recall the subtlest details—the shadows of what could have been.
I step forward reach out to brush her shoulder and then feel the void as my fingers pass through her image. My wife, my love, is dead. “How have you been?”
She pauses—computes and selects a pre-programmed response. “This conversation will go nowhere. It can’t go anywhere.”
I coded those words when I was in a tortured place. “Please answer the question.”
Her eyes look as if they are fixated on something past me. “Elias—”
I sigh. “Just tell me you’re doing OK.”
We are all limited by our humanity.
“Sir?” The program terminates almost instantly leaving a light computer-generated hum meant to imitate silence. Henry walks beside me. I hadn’t noticed that he entered my mindspace. This is what happens when I get distracted—when I let virtual ghosts take the place of real ones.
“What is it?” I shut down the connection and allow myself to be engulfed in a nanosecond of darkness before opening my eyes in the real world.
“Everyone is waiting for your address.” Henry is an old man who has allowed himself to appear younger through years of mechanical enhancement and organic prostethics. To be fair the latter were not his choice. The work we do is dangerous, but his apparent youth is a product envied by those outside of Voltza. Everything dies eventually. No amount of augmentation will ever change that, but people will see what they choose to see.
I push off my chair. “Yes, I’ll be right there.”
He turns to leave and I find myself staring at an empty spot on my desk—another ghost in my mindspace—a digital picture sits in an ornate frame. I had long thrown it away, but the sentimental inprint remains forged in my memory. I can’t forget it, me when I was almost one hundred percent organic, Fynn and Calista mid-fight in front while my wife and I posed in the back. It was a reminder that a split second could change a moment. This was a different time and a very different place.
I thought we agreed you needed to move on.
Easier said than done, my love.
I stand and walk at a steady pace towards the main expanse of Voltza’s drive core. This is where every guard on Voltza is required to assemble on the twenty-fourth. We don’t celebrate holidays, we celebrate victories.
It’s dark as I descend the ladder and join the ranks of the men and women who have devoted their lives to doing the dirty work others won’t. No one says anything. The only sounds are the engines as they pulsate and whine. We’re standing on grating replaced after Voltza nearly fell. At the edge before the main panel is a monument with a bronze plate.
Calista had it made when things settled down.
I shouldn’t have been so hard on her.
“It’s important that we remember who we are, who we were, and who we want to be.” I move past Henry and touch the bronze plate. “I never really understood why people celebrated the holidays. This time of year is no different than any other day we have seen before. We are citizens of Voltza and we don’t get the luxury of relaxation because when we do someone gets hurt. It is our job to be prepared and maintain order. It is a thankless post to those outside this city, but I want all of you to know that I see you and you are appreciated.” I clear my throat. “On this day, while people celebrate, we remember the twenty-fourth of December—the day we were attacked along with St. Joseph’s and Hereford. The day we learned the consequences of letting our guard down.”
Henry salutes and the crowd follows, but still no one else says a word. Each person takes turns paying their respects before returning to their posts until Henry is the last one. He glances at the plate and then lets out a deep sigh. “Sir, you know that the chances of something like this happening again are—”
“Still there.”
He nods. “Of course. I’m just suggesting—”
I turn away. “The same thing you suggest every year.”
“Elias?”
I start to climb the ladder. “Is Calista back from Motano?”
He shakes his head. “Not that I know of.”
I pause when I get to the top. “Alright, please let me know when the Ocelot has been given clearance to land.”
“She isn’t expected back until the new year.”
“You know what to do, Henry.”
He salutes. “Yes, sir.”
We are the products of our experiences. Every mistake we’ve ever made molds us into our present selves. I walk and see the ghosts. My wife was right, this city was no place to raise children but we did—well, I did. The biggest mistake of my life was not keeping track of time. They grew up and I barely even noticed.
I blink twice and reinitialize my mindspace.
“What are you doing here, Elias? I thought we agreed you needed to move on.” She’s standing in front of me with her arms crossed.
I walk through her without so much as slowing down.
“Sir?” Henry’s voice echoes. “Captain Ridley has just requested clearance to land.”
I nod and look at the image of my wife. “Thank you.”
She disappears and I am alone.
“Sir?”
I walk into my office and take a seat at my desk. “Tell her I need to speak with her when she has a moment.”
“Of course.”
The engines gently pulsate as I lean back in my chair and stare at the empty spot on my desk. Perhaps it is time that I find a new picture.