Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 169266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
“Consider it brought up. What are you doing with the people you’re trafficking, the ones that Kozlov is selling you?”
“Research.” Julia starts walking again, slower this time. After a moment, I follow. “Global Dynamix has always been at the forefront of human enhancement. You’re proof of that. But enhancement requires…raw material.”
“You’re experimenting on trafficked people,” I manage to say, my throat feeling thick as rage starts to build. “Innocent people, parents, grandparents…children! After everything this country has gone through, after the people rose up and said no more, you decided to dehumanize these communities yet again. These are the people I am supposed to fucking save and you’re killing them!”
“We’re advancing the science of human potential.” She says it like she’s reading from a brochure. “The subjects are volunteers from difficult circumstances. They’re compensated. Their families are compensated.”
Compensated with death.
We pass another door, another window. Inside, something that looks like a body floats in a tank of blue liquid, wires connected to its skull, its chest, its spine. I force myself not to look too long.
“The human brain,” Marsh begins, “is the most sophisticated computer ever created. But it’s trapped in fragile, failing hardware. Bodies break down. They get sick, injured, old. The recursion loop in the body between the heart and the mind is off, the heart sends more signals to the brain than the brain sends back, which creates a signal leak. Decoherence. Aging. What if we could preserve what matters—consciousness, memory, identity—and transfer it to something more durable?”
My stride falters. “Transfer it to what?”
“A synthetic platform.” Julia’s voice is almost reverent. “A body that doesn’t age, doesn’t tire, doesn’t fail. An electrical loop that is closed. Imagine soldiers who can’t be killed. Leaders who never die. The end of human mortality itself.”
The words hit me like ice water. “You’re talking about downloading people’s minds into machines.”
“We’re talking about evolution.”
“But that’s playing god.”
Julia smiles. “Well, someone has to play him.”
“Someone has to play him before someone else does,” Marsh says with veneration.
“And then what?” I ask.
We keep walking. More doors, more terrors. A room full of empty pods, human-shaped indentations lined with electrodes. A chamber where something screams behind soundproof glass—I can see its mouth open, see it thrashing, but even I can’t hear a thing.
A house of horrors.
“Then what happens?” I go on, trying to stay focused. “When you play god and you create robots with human minds while discarding the actual humans? You think that somehow this absolves you, that by creating an artificial being with human consciousness, that you can slip back into the last decade without any guilt?”
Marsh chuckles, as if the idea of guilt could never apply to him. “Nate, you know better than anyone how the system works. We are the ruling class, everything else is the foundation that props us up. The future demands a better foundation.”
“I am not the ruling class. I’m nothing like you.”
“Oh, come on, Nate. You’re Vanguard. You’re a fucking billionaire superhero, the most powerful fucking person in the entire world. You are the epitome of the ruling class, and now you’re the symbol. You always have been.”
I want to kill him. The urge is so strong I can feel it in my hands, my jaw, the coiled tension in my shoulders. But I need information. I need to understand what I’m dealing with.
“What about Paragon?”
“What about him?” Julia asks.
I voice what I’ve always suspected. “Is he one of them? Is he a robot with human consciousness, maybe a soldier you captured behind enemy lines or…”
Marsh laughs—actually laughs, like I’ve said something delightful. “Perceptive as always. That’s what we love about you, Nate.”
“Paragon is fully synthetic,” Julia says, and that both surprises me and it doesn’t. “No human consciousness. No transferred memories. No messy emotional complications. Pure programming in an artificial body.” Her eyes flick over me, barely hiding her disappointment. “He’s what enhanced defense could look like without the unpredictability of human psychology.”
I know she’s trying to get under my skin, but I’m clinging to every ounce of humanity I have at the moment.
“You built a robot and called it a hero.”
“We built a prototype,” Marsh corrects. “A proof of concept. Paragon follows orders without question. He doesn’t form attachments or loyalties outside his programming.” He pauses, studying me. “But he also can’t do what you do. Can’t read a room the way you can, can’t improvise, can’t inspire. That’s the trade-off. For now.”
For now. The words hang there.
“You’re trying to get both,” I say slowly. “That’s what all of this is about. The experiments. You want soldiers with human minds but without the humanity that makes them disobey. Then you want to sell immortality to the highest bidder.”
Julia’s smile is thin. “Now you’re catching up. Of course, Mia figured it out before you did.”
My heart lurches at the sound of her name.