Chapter 4 The Message

[LiterateMisfit]

“Are you sure this will work?” She asked from behind the mask that shielded her eyes and kept her hair from catching fire. The sparks flew and danced off the mask and grated floor of one of the Lyra’s lowest decks. This was our supply bay, a place for storage of extra hover pads, munitions, and engine parts yet to be tainted by oil and flame.

Lili wore mechanical gloves that by the slightest reflex moved the robotic joints as if they were her own. She was holding the copper tubing to the devise acquired by our friend Al, while I worked the torch. I killed the flame and Lili let go of the tube. It was in place, so she let the gloves clunk down on the floor by her sides.

“It has to work,” I said, checking the connection, my hand protected by a leather glove. The copper was still hot, the device felt cold and lifeless but the connection would hold. “We haven’t very many options, do we?”

“There’s the Asylum. And what about our friend who got those Agents off our backs.” She had removed the mask and began climbing up out from the Lyra’s belly.

“The vault is too strong for us,” I began. “The Code, it’s, it’s ancient. I doubt the Frenchman has doors that well guarded. And I’m sure our other friend won’t be around again to help us with those Agents!” My last words were more of a strained shout as she had disappeared onto the upper deck.

I set the torch down and looked at our acquisition from Styx.

There wasn’t much to it, merely a box with a few gauges and dials. From the top we had connected the transmitter and wired it based on the directions left in the cooler.

Al had kept it on ice due to the devices nuclear cell. He hadn’t accounted our departure from Styx to be with guns blazing, anticipating his two best customers would have handled the operation somewhat smoother. Heat sensors wouldn’t detect the device. Scanners would assume instead that the cooler contained ham sandwiches or smuggled human organs instead.

Unfortunately the ice had proven to be more of a hindrance, weighing us down all the way back to the Lyra. Once onboard and far enough away from the cursed outpost, we let TEX take over while the devise was brought down to the hold and unloaded.

I bent down and winced, still rickety despite all the time that had passed and all I had been through, all we had been through. Still wearing the gloves I snapped a few switches and paused for a moment to breath.

The instructions had been taped to the roof of the cooler. It was a two-page manual, however the text that truly mattered was that which was written by hand in the margins of the type. It was a familiar hand from a log time ago. How his devise had fallen into Al’s hands was a story for another day, yet it was clear he left it with the old barkeep for such a purpose. Perhaps he knew that this day would come, making him the worlds biggest cynic. Or perhaps the author of our beacon was well prepared, exploring every scenario, just in case. Regardless of the reason, we had it now and were mere moments from using it for its purpose.

I let out a gentle sigh. It was all or nothing now. This would either bring them back or confirm our darkest fears. We were together, yet we were alone. We were either family or outcasts.

The scribbles in the margin contained two sets of code. One was the unique signatures for each and every Advocate, past and present. The computers of old had what were known as MAC Address’s, a thumbprint that made a machine stand out from all the others. These signatures were like the MAC Address, hardwired into the entry-plugs of every pod-born, every Red Pill and, in this case, every single Advocate. If they were jacked into the Matrix, a Construct or a training simulation a thousand miles away, this devise would find them, and in so doing, deliver our message.

The second set of codes was programmed into the ships of the Fleet and the ships the author of the devise proved to be useful one day. These were encrypted codes for Red Pills who had proven themselves across this black rock or bartered deals with the Advocates. In essence, there was no way our message could be missed unless a ship or crew had been destroyed. Funny, but the author of our device did not see that happening to the likes of our kind.

I flipped the final switch and the box began to hum. Another switch and my entry-plug filled with the receiver from the devise. Now they would all hear me.

So I began:

“To all Advocates past and present…In an ever-changing world, if one cannot adapt with his or her surroundings, they will inevitably die.” In the span of a few seconds everything from my betrayal, to Lili finding me, to the wastelands and Styx filled my mind. Every image brought fresh raw emotions and I was shaking. “I fear that we, The Devil’s Advocates have been allowed to view the edge of the abyss, but somehow managed to pull away…”

When I had finished my eyes matched my hair when I’m in the Matrix. There were tears on the grated floor and the iron ball that had been chained to my neck had somehow fallen away during the message.

At that moment I realized that whatever happened would happen for a reason and, beginning or end, it would not be by my choice alone.