MetaWars: Fight For The Future

Chapter 32

Jonah didn’t sleep much that night.

It wasn’t just that the floor of his room was uncomfortable, although this didn’t help. He was worried about the attack tomorrow. He hadn’t given it much thought before – until Sam had given her speech, until Jonah had learned exactly what was in store for him.

He told himself he had been in other risky situations – plenty of them, lately. It was just that, before now, he mostly hadn’t seen them coming. There had hardly been time to think, to worry like this, only time to react.

This time, it was different. Jonah had looked at the weapons – ranging from spears to machine guns – that the Guardians had shared out between themselves. But he knew that the Millennials would have weapons too, and the advantage of fortification.

After Sam’s speech was over, Kala had chipped in from the sidelines again. Her language had been blunter, more visceral, than Sam’s had been. She had reminded her people of the cause they were fighting for – the return of their sacred place – and had made no bones about the fact that some of them would die for it.

Jonah remembered what Bradbury had said to him, on the Chang Corp freighter: It’s gonna get rough out there, and you ain’t prepared.

He knew now that Bradbury had been right. He had been right to tell Jonah he couldn’t take part in the fighting. Evidently, however, he had said nothing about this to Sam. And how could Jonah bring up the subject now? What could he say that wouldn’t look like he was letting her down, like he was a coward?

He wished he could see his grandmother. Not just for his own sake – because he knew she could make everything seem better – but for hers too. Who would visit her on the Island, Jonah asked himself, if something happened to him? In her confused state, would she even know she had been abandoned?

Perhaps, he thought, she would be happy with her memories. He hoped so.

And, suddenly, as Jonah lay there, alone in the darkness, an idea came to him.

They set off from Woomera at dawn: twenty converted land yachts sailing across the Australian Outback, sails fluttering behind them. The wind, fortunately, was good. Even so, it would take them all day to reach their destination.

Jonah was in the back of a three-seater cockpit, Sam in front of him. Their driver was an older Aboriginal man, with two white stripes painted on each cheek. Several of the Aborigines had put on face paint this morning, with some opting for more elaborate, colourful designs.

Jonah was still working on his idea in his mind. There was one big problem with it, a problem he couldn’t find his way around.

He looked back over his shoulder, nervously, at the catapult mounted on the land yacht behind him. In a little under twelve hours’ time, Jonah would be expected to climb into that catapult. He would be projected some three hundred and fifty metres into the air, sent hurtling towards a massive rock formation.

Oh, and there would be an enemy army on top of that rock, most likely trying to shoot him out of the sky before he could land. ‘What could possibly go wrong?’ he muttered to himself.

Jonah leaned forward, tapped Sam on the shoulder. ‘This facility,’ he said, ‘the Southern Corner – you said it’s entirely solar-powered?’

‘That’s right,’ said Sam. ‘Australia closed down the last of its fossil-fuel power stations a decade ago. What are you thinking?’

‘We’re arriving at Uluru at dusk,’ said Jonah. ‘So, if we could drain their solar batteries, they wouldn’t be able to recharge them in a hurry.’

‘I guess not,’ said Sam.

‘And that’d help us, yeah? Draining the batteries? It would mean the Millennials couldn’t power their electric fences, or anything else they have prepared for us.’

‘It could help,’ agreed Sam. ‘It could help us a lot. But how would we do it?’

‘The Island of the Uploaded,’ said Jonah. ‘It’s in the quarter of the Metasphere that the Southern Corner controls.’

‘Right.’

‘And all those people on the Island... They’ve Uploaded their minds, everything that made them who they were, and there are more arriving all the time. Too many. The Island doesn’t have the processing power to cope with them all. Not all at once. That’s why...that’s one of the reasons why...they’re always so confused.’

‘Go on,’ said Sam.

‘Think what would happen,’ said Jonah, ‘if everyone on the Island, if they all tried to think at the same time. If they all remembered.’

Sam thought about it. ‘It could work,’ she said. ‘It would certainly be a power drain. It’d spin every hard drive in the Southern Corner. The only problem is—’

‘We can’t get to the Island,’ said Jonah, ‘because of Granger’s blockade. I know. I’ve been thinking about it all night, and I think I might be able to find a way. I have an idea I’d like to try, anyway. I just need to get back online.’

‘All right,’ said Sam, ‘we have a Metasphere terminal. And I’ve already learned to stop underestimating you.’

                                                                                                *

Jonah appeared inside the Metasphere in mid-air.

He spread his enormous wings, and let the virtual wind catch them. He swooped low over a calm, sparkling blue ocean.

It felt like an age since he had done this, just flown.

He closed his eyes, felt the sun on his face and the breeze in his nostrils. He lost himself in those joyous sensations, and almost forgot his worries.

It was over too soon. Jonah could see the Island, a dark silhouette against the horizon. His heart skipped a beat. He had expected the Island to be surrounded by a barrier. He hadn’t really expected to be able to fly straight to it.

The Island was wreathed in mist. Jonah wasn’t sure what that meant, but it couldn’t be good. He kept on flying, anyway, and the mist closed in around him.

He couldn’t see the Island any more. He knew it was straight ahead, though. If the purpose of the mist was to confuse him, disorient him, it wouldn’t work.

The mist was cold, freezing cold. It sank into Jonah’s leathery hide, numbed his bones. It was becoming thicker, too. It was almost opaque. He couldn’t see past the end of his snout. He gritted his teeth, beat his wings, determined to keep going.

Then, suddenly, the mist lifted. The air was warm again, the sky and the sea blue.

And the Island of the Uploaded was nowhere to be seen.

Jonah stopped flying. He turned on the spot, confused. The Island was directly behind him. He could just make out its shape through the mist cloud that still clung to it. He must have flown right over it, he thought – but how could he have done? The Island was too big; he hadn’t flown for long enough to cross it.

Jonah lowered his head, stubbornly, and struck out for the Island again.

Once again, the mist closed in around him, chilling him, blinding him. Once again, when it lifted, the Island of the Uploaded was behind him – so close, so achingly close, and yet apparently unreachable.

Jonah hovered at the edge of the mist cloud. Had it been a solid barrier, he could have tried to break through it. He could have used Harry’s deconstruction virus. He considered doing it, anyway, spreading the virus into the mist. But he didn’t know enough about what the mist was. What if he damaged the Island itself?

He didn’t dare take that chance.

Fortunately, he had another option left to him. Just one more.

He could Upload himself.