Ex Lacrima Remnant

Track #51 – Noise

A tree fell, its roots severed, devoured, turned back into their prime constituents. The wood consumed, the nests, the small squirrels falling from it too. Ash replacing the lush vegetation, in a wave of destruction that wasn’t stopping, a wave without a mind, spreading wider and wider every second, destroying whatever trace of intelligent life happened to inhabit the planet. Something was left behind. Some vegetation. Some seeds. Some roots. Not everything was killed. Only what was deemed superfluous, only enough to turn the world anew. Still, without contact with the seedship, the swarm couldn’t choose. The swarm couldn’t stop. The forest became an innocent casualty of the reset process, one that wasn’t intended to happen, but was indeed inevitable. Without the guide of Lagash, the swarm marched forward, doing the only thing it was programmed to.

Eat.

Delete.

Replicate.

Repeat.

A cycle without beginning or end.

Eat.

Delete.

Replicate.

Repeat.

Most of the units composing the swarm were born during the expansion phase. Many had never even been in contact with the seedship. Still, they didn’t have a mind, a will of their own. So, they weren’t able to realize this. They weren’t able to mourn the missing touch of their mother. They were just parts of something bigger, following very simple rules. If it’s not you, eat it. Disassemble it. Use its parts to clone yourself. Move forward. There was no backward propagation in their code. Just one direction. Forward.

And forward they marched, through the fields, through the cities, gorging, feasting on metal and flesh, without even knowing what ‘metal’ and ‘flesh’ were. They just followed their programming, without questions. Without a will, not even a limited one. Just fulfilling their role, pieces of a puzzle whose existence they weren’t even aware of.

A wave of death and decay, turning everything into nothing.

That’s what it looked like, from the top of the Grove. Dandelion was watching through her binoculars once again, staring at the horizon. The forest was getting thinner and thinner by the second, trees were falling, birds were flying away, trying to save whatever they could. It was a mass exodus, with critters running on the ground, trying to reach for safety, running out of the woods like they would in the face of fire.

Five minutes at most, before they reached the first ring of defense.

Five minutes at most to see if they had a chance of survival.

She pushed the device tucked in her ear, her voice turning conceited.

“Control from Dandelion. Impact in T plus three hundred max. What’s the status, down there?”

“All speakers ready. We’re starting the broadcast in one minute.”

“…why not now?”

“We’re having some technical issues with the programs. Steering almost one hundred speakers at the same time isn’t really day-by-day operations, yes?”

“Okay, okay. Do whatever you can, Callie.”

“Callie?”

A short pause. Dandelion growled.

“Calendula. Forget about it, okay? Just a slip of the tongue.”

“As you wish, Dee.”

“Dandelion.”

“Dandelion, sorry.”

“Less apologies, more work.”

She stared in her binoculars again. One meter per second sounded like a very slow speed. Less than four kilometers per hour. Humans could walk faster with little effort. One point four, maybe one point five meters per second even. Almost any healthy individual could simply outpace the swarm without running. Yet, the swarm didn’t rest. The swarm didn’t stop. The swarm didn’t care if the road was blocked. Humans did. So, even if, on paper, moving away from the nanos was easy, comfortable even, in reality it was harder than one could think – especially inside a urban jungle. When the skyscrapers start falling, when the cars block the streets, when everything crumbles, being trapped is an instant, a fleeting moment. And that moment can be deadly.

Dandelion glanced at the first ring of defense, an installation counting twenty loudspeakers of different shapes and sizes. They worked so much with sound, when testing the parasite plant bombs that the amount of spares they had at their disposal was enough to fill a garbage dump to the brim. Her sight turned up again. The swarm was coming. More and more trees were disappearing, falling down at an impressive rate. The destruction front was now a ring of almost fifteen kilometers of radius, a distance so vast that she couldn’t really notice the curvature that much. In her view, it was just a wave of death. She shook her head, lowered her visor.

Hoping that Kryzalid didn’t just play a giant prank on them.

To give them a hope spot.

And watch them die in despair.

**

“Li, it’s coming. Almost there. Fifteen minutes at most.”

Oleander stepped into the room, under the sunlight coming from the slits in the ceiling. Every step felt like a burden, her vine foot getting in the way. That partial phytomorphosis hampered her movements. Her body reacted slower and losing her stereoscopic vision weakened her aiming skills too. Yet, she was still herself. That was enough. She would follow Lily wherever she went. She would do anything and everything for her, even if she felt that, from the other side, the affection wasn’t as deep. Theirs weren’t pure transactions, but the way Lily spoke, the way Lily talked with her, sometimes felt.

Cold.

Even after she put on that cat costume for her, even after they made love for a sizable chunk of the night, the cuddling was cut short. Because they were both dry. There was no need to keep kissing each other, to keep caressing each other, to keep playing with each other. And, since there was no need for it, Lily simply didn’t do it. Sometimes, Oleander would have loved Lily to be less… logical. Capable of enjoying even small, useless moments without a return on her time investment. Still, she knew she couldn’t change her. Just accept her for what she was – as long as it didn’t turn into an all-taking no-giving sort of deal.

Now, though, with death knocking at their door, she had to shelve those complaints. It was a literal do or die situation. And they needed her guidance. Her presence. Her aura.

“Li? Lily?”

No answer. Oleander growled. She could have only been there, of course. Which made sense, in a way. The place where she would have loved to die too, if those were her last moments on the planet. So, she reached the metal door, placed her hand onto the reader. The gate opened, let her in, as one of the only five rhizomes that had access to that sealed section of the Grove.

The Womb.

Their future.

And, as expected.

Lily was there.

Reading values from a display. Staring at the massive mechanical tree, at the small hanging pods wired to it, connected with plugs to the rest of the system. The transparent glass made it possible to look inside them, to look at the minute bodies occupying their interior as if they were cradles. Oleander went for the lowest one before even greeting Lily, stared through the window. A small, peaceful creature with closed eyes was sleeping inside it. Her red hair was already long enough to almost wrap her whole minuscule body. Her irises had to be red too, much like her second genetic template. Her roots weren’t fully developed yet, though, as well as some of her internal organs. Oleander felt like watching that creature forever. The reason why neither Lily nor her left the Grove.

Their daughter.

Cattleya.

The first rhizome born by crossing the genetic make-up of two mothers. The first one to have a ‘childhood’. The first one not created by Zonta or using one of his blueprints. Cattleya was this and more. Cattleya was something they worked on together for so long. But she couldn’t survive outside of her pod. She was still growing. Her feeders, her lungs were incomplete. Her sisters were even less developed, sisters born by mixing the DNA of other rhizomes. Spear and Shield. Whip and Mantis. Sword and Shield. Spear and Mantis. An array of endless possibilities, one that would have grown even wider with time. Muriel van Perens was partially right: rhizome couldn’t reproduce, they couldn’t bear children. That made them fail as a species. That’s why, if Cattleya were born, if the adjustments they made out of Zonta’s plans worked out… it would have been different. Their ‘father’ had already thought about it, but scrapped the idea mid development. That was the reason why so many of them pollinated, but none of them had organs ready to receive the pollen. Now, that was going to change. Cattleya was going to be able to give birth naturally. But she still needed time to be born, her sisters more so.

The swarm came too soon.

And, without the Womb, away from it, they’d die in less than two days. Even if they put them in the trucks, even if they travelled as fast as possible, there was no way to find a similar structure to that mechanical tree anywhere in a two day radius. Eastcol and Pangea had a compatible artificial cradle system, one that could replace it at least for a while. Yet, finding one of them in time was hard, almost impossible. A gamble they couldn’t take.

Oleander caressed the glass, smiled at her daughter. It was a wry smile, one that couldn’t hide her bitterness. So close, yet so far. Lily turned to face her, finally addressed her.

“What’s the matter, Lea?”

“I thought you’d want to be in the comm room, when the speakers are switched on.”

“…right, I’m the leader. It’s the logical thing to do.”

“What were you looking at?”

“Cattleya still needs two weeks to become self-sufficient. There’s no way we can save her, if we leave the Grove.”

“Then, we die with her. Together. As… as a ‘family’. As we… as we planned.”

“No, Lea. If things don’t work, you must take the last truck and drive away. You must live.”

Oleander gasped for air, felt her lymph boiling.

“What? Why?”

“Because rhizomes need a leader. One that hasn’t caused a genocide. One that can bargain with humans. In other words, they need you. For the good of our species…”

“To hell with it!”

Oleander’s voice growled, her emerald eye burned.

“I want to remain with you till the very end! Li, you are my… you are my everything! Even if I live… without you… without Cattleya… what’s left of me? You can’t ask me this!”

Lily’s eye widened, her mouth agape.

“But… but that’s not…”

“Yes, it’s irrational. It’s stupid, but that’s what I am! Stupid! And, no, you can shove that order down your throat! We’ll either live together or we die together!”

Lily bit her lip, turned back to the screen, heaved a sigh.

“Have it your way, then. If you offered me this chance, I would have taken it.”

“Oh, you would have?”

Oleander shook her head, sat down in front of the cradle, placed her hand on the glass.

“…yeah, that’s just like you, alright. You were always the cool-headed one. I’m the idiot. An idiot that wanted to see her child open her eyes. We’re… going to be moms, Li.”

“More like ‘genetic parents’, since neither of us bore her inside her body.”

“Close enough.”

Oleander pushed her forehead on the glass, rubbed it on it.

“Our child. Our precious little sprout. You don’t know… how long I waited for this. To think… to think she might die before even seeing the world once. This isn’t fair, Li.”

“That’s the hand we’ve been dealt.”

“Even if we survive… what are we going to do?”

“We have a card to play.”

Oleander stared at her quizzically, before a flash illuminated her mind.

“…the Eastcol pilot we captured?”

Lily opened her mouth to reply, yet, before she could speak, the communicator in her ear buzzed. A voice spread through the room.

“Control from Dandelion. Impact in T plus three hundred max. What’s the status, down there?”

Lily nodded, turned around.

“We’ll talk about the future later. In normal circumstances, I’d want you to be with me in the comm room, Deputy Captain Commander Oleander…”

Her human hand caressed Oleander’s hair, patted her head.

“…but, this time, it’s better if you stay here, with… our kid. If we fail, pull her out of her crib. Keep her warm in your arms. If everything goes wrong, at least… she’ll feel her ‘mom’ at least once.”

With those words, Lily stepped away from Lea, moved through the gate, closed it behind her. The comm room was waiting for her.

**

Dandelion gritted her teeth. Almost there. Almost there. Fifty meters between the swarm and the first line of loudspeakers. Not a sign of slow down. Not a sign of detour. The speakers had to be pumping out that sound, now. So why? Why was nothing happening? Her heart sunk, her breath accelerated, her fingers gripped around the visor.

Thirty meters. More and more trees fell off.

Twenty. No change. Nothing.

Ten.

She closed her eyes.

Five.

Three.

Two.

One.

Impact.

She reopened them, hoping to see something, anything different.

Yet.

The swarm.

Started eating the supports.

The metal cases.

The meshes.

Dandelion slumped on the roof.

One by one.

The devices on the first line.

Were being assimilated.

Water leaked on her cheeks.

It was a lie.

It was just a lie.

They were lied to.

That bastard, Kryzalid.

Lied to them. Gave them a bloody hope spot.

That’s how cruel she was.

She wished her to die.

She wished her to feel the pain of a whole species, one she caused the extinction of.

She wished her all the evil in the world.

But that wouldn’t have made any difference.

They were doomed anyway.

Doomed.

To be annihilated.

She crawled to the edge of the roof, tapped on her communicator. Her last message. Her last will.

“C… control from Dandelion. The swarm…”

She stopped. Blinked once. Twice. Something piqued her attention. She raised her binoculars, as fast as she could. Part of the swarm.

Changed direction.

Toured around.

Some of the speakers.

Leaving the trees.

The woods.

Intact.

Her heart jumped in her throat, she scrambled to tap her ear again.

“Control from Dandelion! Half of the first ring lost, second ring up next! One part of the swarm has moved! I repeat! One part of the swarm moved away! It’s coasting to the eastern side! Fire all loudspeakers! All of them! It…”

She wiped the water out of her face, shouted in the microphone.

“It’s working! It’s… it’s working!”

**

I am you.

Don’t eat me.

That message.

That was how they interpreted the frequency.

I am you.

Don’t eat me.

So, the swarm changed course to avoid cannibalizing itself. Still no messages from the seedship. Which meant, sound it was. And the sound guided them.

I am you.

Don’t eat me.

It was coming from several directions at once, not just from behind and from the sides as usual. It was coming from the ‘front’, for whatever ‘front’ meant. The units didn’t have an intuitive concept of ‘forward’ or ‘backward’. They just moved in the direction where the sound of their kin was weaker. Whether that was ‘forward’ or ‘backward’, it didn’t matter. They just went on. Now, though, the sound was coming from many more sources.

I am you.

Don’t eat me.

So, their ‘forward’ changed, their formation spread out, to avoid hitting the other wavefront. They didn’t know why. They didn’t need to. The units weren’t conscious at all. Only snippets of logic eating, cloning, repeating.

Thus, they listened to the voice and moved, their ranks thinning out. Yet, it was to be expected. Sooner or later, different swarms would meet. The sound would guide them to join each other as they should have. Following their programming, they changed their bearing, found a new direction.

So that that voice, their voice, would be ‘behind’ them.

As it always had been.

As it always had to be.

**

The swarm impacted with the second ring of speakers, spreading around it. Around three fourths changed direction, swam around the rigs, took a wider route. Still, one part trickled through, deleting everything in its path. On the sides, the detouring waves were coasting the Grove in an irregular pattern, the additional speakers keeping them out for the most. Small chunks of nanos went through the first ring. Less through the second. Even one, a single one of those units would have been lethal. Dandelion held her breath. The loudspeakers in the first ring were the oldest, the weakest, those that might or might not have even worked at the right frequency. Those in the second ring were almost all tried and tested, but there was still some mix with weaker models. Or, maybe, the cabling failed due to the speed they had to wire them all. That left the last ring, the third, just thirty meters around the Grove. The best speakers they had at their disposal, the only ones her sisters were sure could absolutely, positively play tunes in the ultrasound range.

Whatever was left of the swarm was now approaching it, the last line of defense. Dandelion swallowed her saliva, kept her eyes trained on that wave of destruction, one that turned everything into ashes. She watched with apprehension as the massively reduced wave of nanos neared the third barrier.

She closed her eyes.

She couldn’t bear the truth.

That was their last resort.

Their last chance.

If any of the speakers failed.

If any of the cables broke.

They would have been eaten alive.

Disassembled.

Digested.

She counted up.

One.

Two.

Three.

Five.

Ten.

“Dandelion! Report!”

The voice from the comm room.

“Dandelion!”

She didn’t want to open her eyes.

She didn’t want to face reality.

“This is Captain Commander Lily. Dandelion! Report! Now!”

Lily.

Her queen.

Her hero.

Her muse.

Dandelion shook her head. Won against her fear. Lifted the visor. Brought it to her eyes.

And saw

Nothing.

She turned around.

Left.

Right.

The swarm.

Where was it?

She turned behind.

And she saw it.

Devouring.

Eating.

Turning everything into ashes.

Beyond the Grove.

Beyond their shelter.

She ran to the edge of the floor, glanced at the horizon.

Ashes.

Ashes everywhere.

But.

Around them.

Still trees.

Still green.

Still life.

The speakers.

The third ring.

Held the line.

The swarm.

Had gone away.

They lived.

They

survived.

All of them.

All

of

them.

Dandelion grabbed the mic, almost chewed it, screamed, shouted, cried.

“It worked! It worked! The swarm’s gone! It’s gone! The Grove is safe! I… I repeat… I… I…”

She broke into tears, she kneeled on the concrete, let her visor fall.

“I… I…”

Her word mangled, turned into a soup of vowels. She curled in fetal position, let her water leak out, didn’t even try to stop it.

Oleander was crying too, in the Womb. Her arms clenched around the pod, her tears flowing over the glass like rain, wetting the ground. She rubbed her forehead against the window. Laughing. Laughing with relief. Laughing in front of her daughter. Of the fruit of her love for Lily.

That’s was what Cattleya saw, when opening her eyes for the first time.

A red-haired plant woman, one with a lily sprouting from her eye socket. One looking at her with love.

Smiling.

Crying.

Welcoming her to life.

Cattleya didn’t manage to keep up, went to sleep again, her body still not complete.

Yet, that sight.

The sight of her ‘mom’.

Was already imprinted in her little brain.

It made her feel warm, comfortable.

And, basking in that comfort, she treasured that picture.

The first that ever graced her retina.

The first she’d even be aware of.