Singularity

By Fabio Martins

The world has met its ruin. In the ashes, a city was born, a dystopian dark phoenix. Mankind's old sins prevail. An even darker catastrophe returns, and this time there won't be a renaissance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fabio Martins
• Release date: Dec 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005130121

Fabio Martins

Born in Portugal, living in London. A citizen of the world.

Book preview

Singularity

Published by Fabio Matins at Smashwords

Copyright 2020 Fabio Martins

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

I

Something Human

AeyD, with a nervous sounding beep, freed itself from the pile of metal, cables and rubble he had dug himself into searching for a possibly valuable chip he had scanned moments before, two meters deep.

A floating personal assistant droid, AeyD had specialized in searching for scrap that could be sold for credits since he had begun hanging around with his organic companion, a human being designated by his own species as Zack Strike.

While under the pile of debris, AeyD had received a holographic message destined to the human, a first since they had been together. But the signal was too weak to download the message and the droid had only managed to hold on to the ping signal, meaning it would have to reach an area where he could acquire a greater connection. A difficult task in the endless junkyard that was, well… the Junkyard. It had been too long the droid had been cut off from the network; a disconnection that would soon change.

AeyD would first have to locate his partner and convince him to go back home earlier so it could download the message and play it. It was, after all, an exciting event! The first time AeyD would actually be fulfilling part of his original programming with the organic that had saved him a couple of years back! Finally, it wouldn’t just be another scrap collector, but a full-fledge personal assistant droid delivering a message, like intended by the Creator! A message! A day to be remembered! Beep beep!

AeyD found Zack on top of a debris mountain, one of the highest in the sector, easily over eighty meters high. He always found the tallest piles of scrap to hide the most profitable pieces. And the other Junkers mostly didn’t risk climbing that high, so Zack could easily avoid heated arguments, brawls and thefts. Junkers could easily turn violent in their quest to find something worth a penny in someone else’s waster.

It was the only way to make a living on the Junkyard. Well, the only way that didn’t involve selling one’s body or spice. Or both.

AeyD floated all the way to Zack and made a little spin when it reached him. It did with such power and flair that Zack’s dark ripped coat danced in the air for a moment. His face remained stiff, however. As usually did.

There you are, AeyD said. Zack immediately noticed the droid’s voice box was not its usual mono frequency. Guess what, guess what! You have a message! AeyD said with as much happiness as his programming allowed, his visor flashing with each word it pronounced.

Delete it. Zack turned around and fiddled with something under his feet.

AeyD floated back, surprised and disappointed. How dare this filthy organic ruin such a monumental day? The droid would not accept such an error.

Your behaviour does not compute. Why would you delete a message without watching it first?

It’s not for me. Delete it.

Zack pulled his target from the rubbish pile but it was stuck.

Why would someone send you a message if it is not for you?

AeyD, no one would send me a message because no one wants to talk to me. He was getting exasperated.

That didn’t exactly answer my question.

And you are not exactly doing your job.

My primary programming includes delivering messages. Collecting scrap is just a favour I do for you.

That favour is what puts food on my house and energy on your batteries.

A hut made of flap metal and barely put together rotten wood is not a house.

Zack finally managed to pull a long piece of metal he was struggling with. It seemed to be a pipe of an industrial air filtering unit.

You won’t go back to work until you play that message, will you? Zack answered, tired of arguing with the droid.

No.

Fine. Play the damn message.

I can’t.

Zack realised the metal cub he was holding could be used to smash AeyD to pieces, easily.

Are you trying to drive me insane?

That is not my objective. You told me someone did that to you before and was not nice.

So why won’t you play the message?

Are you not listening? I cannot. There’s not enough signal here for a full download.

Zack’s interest in the conversation spiked.

Not enough signal? You mean the message did not originate in the Junkyard?

Correct. It seems the origin point is from Neo Capitol City. You used to live there, didn’t you?

Long time ago. Where would you be able to get enough signal?

Back at the place you call house should do it. It is slightly closer to the city and the atmosphere is clearer.

You’ll play the message when we get there, then.

That will take too long. Let’s go now! I really want to play this message. You know how long has it been since I’ve done something like this?

Look, AeyD, we need to collect enough scrap otherwise I don’t eat and you will run out of power. Besides, I need to pay Ozz for yesterday’s shopping. If I don’t, his goons will come after us and smash us into pieces. Do you want that? He made sure his tone was scary enough for the droid to compute.

I would prefer to remain in one piece, thank you very much, the droid admitted.

Good. Go back to work then and find us something we can sell. Later we’ll go to the dealers and on the way home, we pay Ozz. Then you can play that blasted message. Is that agreeable with you?

Yes. I mean, no. But yes. Just remember, organic, you are between a droid and his mission. I will keep this memory forever in my data banks. AeyD turned around and floated back looking for scraps, all the while shouting insults at organics in general, in both human and machines’ languages.

Stupid droid. Zack hoped his little friend wouldn’t upset the other Junkers with the insults and the noise. These were many people who liked to work in silence.

He slid down and tossed the metal piece to his cart. It was only half full and nightfall was fast approaching. Zack had wasted too much time arguing with the droid. Who did that? Who, in their right mind, argued with a droid? If he couldn’t make enough credits, Ozz would certainly come after him. Spice dealers weren’t fond of late payments.

The ground vibrated and the sound of roaring engines came: a garbage ship, fresh from the city. Zack could still make a large profit, would he survive the day.

The ship hovered in the air just above Zack’s position. Without warning, it opened its belly in two and all the garbage it once contained was dropped. And Zack was directly underneath it. Garbage operators didn’t care who was underneath them; after all, Junkyard residents were the scum of the earth.

Metal, wires, cables, wood, glass and rubbish rained down from the sky. Zack dived to the side to avoid the rain, but too late. Five seconds later he was buried underneath a pile of garbage. How suitable.

Some people survived garbage drops in the Junkyard. Many didn’t. Zack did, somehow. By covering his head with hands and arms, most damages were done to his torso and legs, and even those wore mostly superficial cuts and slashes. But it took him some time to return to the surface.

Popping his head out, Zack was greeted by AeyD.

You survived. How optimal.

I love your enthusiasm. As Zack got himself up he looked around. And it wasn’t good. Oh, shit.

The garbage ship attracted the other scavengers to the area. Once garbage drops hit the floor it became golden resources. Fresh junk was better than old junk. Zack counted ten Junkers, with more coming from the horizon. It could get ugly.

He didn’t want a fight; all he wanted was his scrap and peace. He eyed his cart, still in one piece. The Junkers were eyeing it too. He dashed for it as much as the uneven floor allowed him to. The problem was that some of the other Junkers thought they could do a quicker profit if they just took the cart Zack had spent almost a full day trying to fill. It would be a battle royal. And so the closest one to him attacked with an iron stick.

Zack dodged the incoming attack and threw himself at the other man’s stomach, both falling on the dirt. Zack quickly got back up on his feet only to have a masked assailant punching him on the ribs. He had gotten worse than that.

Recovering faster than the attacker predicted, Zack grabbed the tube that connected the gas mask to a device on the Junker’s chest and pulled towards him, dragging the man’s face straight to his closed fist.

But beating two attackers only provoked the remaining eight. Zack was good at fighting, for sure, but even he would struggle against so many irate low-lives, especially in his condition. Time to change tactics.

Zack had found AeyD circa two years before that day. He had been doing what he did every day: looking for scrap he could sell. Many residents of the immense metropolis Neo Capitol City, or NCC for short, had droids: cleaning droids, personal assistant droids, cooking droids, company droids and so on. But newer models were built all the time, and on the job robots would be outdated very quickly.

As soon as AeyD’s original masters bought themselves a new PAD, they tossed the older model into the rubbish. And all the rubbish would end up in the Junkyard. And so Zack found the out of purpose droid. Something compelled him not to sell AeyD and keep him as a helper. On the other hand, AeyD surprised Zack by voluntarily remaining by his side and not try to exile itself in the Machine City, a fate many robots would chase when discarded by humans.

Their partnership grew organically and AeyD accepted Zack’s ideas for some modifications. It was on one of those modifications Zack was counting on to reach his cart and run away from the group of Junkers ganging on him.

AeyD! Smoke! Now!

Roger, roger!

From under its small dome, between the flaps, AeyD dropped a canister that quickly enveloped the area in thick smoke, temporarily confusing and blinding the assailants. Zack rushed towards his cart, turned hover mode on and pushed it away from there. AeyD followed:

Can we go home now?

*

Deciding to be at a safe distance, Zack slowed down his sprint and took stock of the items on his cart. Not a good day. To make things worse, his body was beginning to feel the pain from the garbage drop and the brief brawl. He could still press on and search for goods to sell, but he was now at the edge of the scrap piles and decent items were extremely hard to find.

On the bright side, it should be enough to pay Ozz; he just wouldn’t eat that night. Good thing he stocked piled on nutrient pills for emergencies.

That was exciting! AeyD claimed out of nowhere.

Since when do you feel excitement?

More often than you do. You must be the most plain, boring organic nature has ever manufactured. Even cyborgs are livelier than you.

I’m glad I can always count on you to brighten my life. He kicked his cart. Fuck, this was a disaster of a day.

Not everything was bad. We got a message, remember? Pretty exciting!

Zack allowed himself a smile. The droid annoyed him to the bone, but sometimes it was just hilarious. Almost made him laugh.

Come on; let’s try to sell the modest fruit of our labour.

The Junk Dealer where Zack was a regular at was a few miles down, in the same direction as his hut. It was in the most civilized area of the east sector of the Junkyard, the most comparable to a street.

It had night lights, it had shops that sold goods that were almost similar to food and other necessities like water and hygiene products, and it had prostitutes of male, female, neutral and plural sexes. At the centre of it all was the Junk Dealer’s shop, where everything could be sold, and almost everything could be bought.

The façade of the shop was built around a desk with a visor between the patron and the shop’s owner, with a circle cut in the middle to allow words and goods to be exchanged.

Good day, Vir.

Vir was a big, round man that covered his large stomach with an oily apron and his face with an iron black mask in a long beak shape. No one knew why, but the rumours whispered he was wanted for serious crimes in NCC. Zack didn’t believe it; the mask had made the man famous, not invisible. At least on the Junkyard. Besides, what was crime one day in Capitol was the law the other; law-abiding people and criminals changed roles as night changed into day.

If it isn’t my favourite scrap collector. Zack Strike in the flesh! Vir said with a muffled voice that it made it hard to understand his words. When will you sell me that droid? I heard you owe Ozz big, maybe we could help each other out.

Not as big as you, little man. The droid is not for sale.

That’s right! AeyD said. I am not his property to sell, I am his friend.

Vir looked at them with contempt in his eyes. Don’t make me laugh. Droids are not friends, they are slaves.

Zack signalled AeyD to be quiet. He was not in the mood for philosophical debates.

Are we doing business or not?

Sure we are. What do you have?

Zack stepped aside and showed him the cart. Vir came around from his stand and inspected the items. One in particular captured his attention.

A hoverbike engine, huh? Rare find.

Expensive, then, Zack concluded.

I’ll give you seven hundred for all of it.

Don’t fuck with me, Vir. The engine alone is worth double that, at least.

If you can get a better price somewhere else, you are welcome to go there.

Somewhere else was twenty-five miles away and Zack didn’t have transportation and no guarantee of a better price.

Nine hundred and a blaster rifle, he bargained. He needed credits, but he also needed a weapon for self-defence. Vir would part ways with goods easier than with credits.

Eight hundred and fifty and a hand blaster, was the counter-offer.

Shit, I can’t believe you are doing this to me, Vir!

Sorry pal, business has been weak. Hunters have been cracking on our operation from here to the Sprawl. You know people get nervous when Hunters are on their collective tails.

Zack was well aware. Too aware. Resigned, he accepted Vir’s offer. At least he could pay Ozz and gain some protection with a new blaster. It would have to do.

Holding a gun once again felt terrifying, though. Memories rushed trough, a maze of subconscious explosions.

Are you alright? Your vitals spiked for a moment, AeyD said, concerned.

What are you now, my nurse? Let’s get going.

Bye Zack! Don’t forget to sell me that droid! Vir waved as they left.

Fuck you, bloody prick! Zack held his middle finger behind his neck.

As he walked the street, he noticed a flower cart outside the M’Gear shop, with a girl in a red dress tending to it. He approached it, curious. Never before had he seen flowers in the Junkyard. He asked the flower girl for prices.

Two credits per flour, ten for an arrangement, she said. Her voice was as sweet as pollen. She had bright green eyes and sported a yellow flower on her jacket pocket. She pointed at each one as she announced: We have orchids, lilies, roses, cosmos, marigolds and burgundy flowers. Freshly handpicked from the oasis, guaranteed.

I’ll take a rose. Zack handed her two credits, wondering about the oasis the flower girl mentioned. It was far south of the Junkyard, a small lake surrounded by trees. He had heard of people who began recently planting flowers and even vegetables around the oasis, taking advantage of the natural water source; a true miracle on those parts.

The flower girl placed the rose in a flower jar. Free jar with your first purchase, she winked. Zack thanked her and carried on to his next stop, ignoring AeyD’s inquisitive beeps and blips.

Ozz’s base of operations was on the other side of the street, behind a trio of living huts. As man and droid approached the area, someone called Zack from behind.

Hey, honey!

It was a beautiful woman, with long thick purple hair, wearing a conned top, short latex skirt with nylons underneath and glass heels on her feet. Zack knew her as Xiao Lan, the woman he regularly visited when he needed to unwind and wasn’t too high on spice.

Xiao Lan had come to the Junkyard as a young refugee from outside the Dome, the see-trough megastructure that covered the habitable areas of the Junkyard, Machine City and Neo Capitol City. The outside world was rumoured to have been scorched by a cataclysm event two hundred years prior, forcing the construction of a protective bubble.

There were still those who survived under the scorching heat and unbearable radiation and tried to come inside the Dome. Capitol police wouldn’t allow refugees in anymore, but there were no security forces in the Junkyard. Zack wondered if the outside could be worse than the Junkyard and if the stories about an unbearable landscape weren’t exaggerated.

Xiao Lan had quickly been pushed to a life of prostitution; there was not much else a woman was allowed to do in the Junkyard, with patriarchs like Ozz running and ruling businesses and whatever passed as laws. But Zack saw her more as a special friend than anything else. If he would ever have friends again.

He remembered quite well the day he had met her. It was a rainy day and he was searching for work; Zack had just arrived in the Junkyard four days prior. Vir suggested him to become a Junker and find scrap to sell. Vir gave him a quick tutorial and pointed to Ozz’s territory, explaining who made the rules and who executed the punishments.

Just then Xiao Lan was coming out from a speeder bike. He noticed her immediately. Xiao Lan, feeling his eyes on her, made contact. And they talked about the bike. Zack only found out about her profession a few weeks later, and by then he felt he had made a friend.

Sorry, Xiao Lan. Not tonight. I barely made enough credits to pay Ozz from yesterday’s spice. I am sorry.

Oh, that’s okay. Do you think I can still come over? For free, that is. It’s my night off… I don’t want to be alone and… you are nice to me.

Zack was taken aback by her comment but recovered quickly before it got too awkward.

Yeah, of course. I’ll be waiting. He was thrilled, quickly forgetting about his mild interest in AeyD’s message.

Thank you, Zack. You are the best. Xiao Lan kissed him on the cheek and carried on down the street, while Zack felt inner warmth building up. Nice flower! she shouted back.

She didn’t even say hello to me, AeyD said.

Zack gave him a look but was too tired to reply. He circled the huts and was at Ozz’s yard. A man in a full hazard suit armed with a blaster rifle signalled him to stop. A command came from inside the hut:

Let him through, you donkey!

The insulted man stepped away and Zack went closer to the open front door.

Thank you, Ozz. Here’s the payment. Thanks for trusting. Zack tossed the credit chips onto a small wooden stool by the door.

My pleasure. Ozz came out of the shadows, sat in a hover-chair; he had lost both his legs from the knees down years ago. From what, Zack didn’t know. Do you need more produce? He petted the brown pigeon resting on his arm.

Thanks, but no. I am all out. Not a productive day.

Shame. I am happy to borrow it again. Or if you need work, why not join my crew? They just assembled back a car; you could get some fun on the road and make heavy credits. Ozz’s kind of fun involved a lot of wet work, and Zack had had his fill. There are plenty of jobs I could put you on. Always room in my crew for the talented men and women of the Junkyard.

That’s very kind, Ozz. Zack tried to stay on the old man’s good side. His cruelty was legendary. But I am just a simple scraper these days.

Shame, shame. Maybe one day I can get you into so much debt you won’t have a choice. You’re a capable man. Ozz scratched his grey beard. His eyes, although foggy from smoking too much spice, still held a vicious look. Nice blaster you got yourself there.

This old thing? Just to keep other Junkers away. Some have been aggressive lately.

Lack of spice will do that to you. Hate to admit it, but the supply chain is suffering. Hunters are cracking down in our turf.

Is that so? Vir was complaining about the same thing.

Yes. We all here doing an honest living and those TriCorp shitheads suddenly decide to meddle with our simple lives. Almost feels like running the metropolis is not enough for those corporate bastards.

Did something happen to earn their attention?

"Word on the street claims an important scientist or something from Capitol tried to smuggle goods