He turned his sphere-shaped head to glare at me with that blue, condescending light vilely. His hatred for me seemed to keep building, but mine for him had already reached its peak. He’d never overcome my will and pride; it was all I had left in connection with Kortan save the horrid marking upon my wrist.
“Quintley can’t get the computer to work,” VOCOM’s voice rang out. “Not even to run; hang in there, Vera.”
“Tell that boy to go back to law school.” Benlark seethed.
“Law school? Why in the blazes would I do that? Bloody law school? Could you imagine a bloke like me as a lawyer?”
I hesitated for a moment. How was Quintley’s voice coming out over the communicator? He didn’t have one—or a way to hack mine. Even so, didn’t he realize who he was talking to? I grumbled to myself. Then wasn’t the time to ask a million questions; I needed to stay focused before I passed out from pain.
“I can’t—for Chrissake, I don’t even like—“
“Shut up!” Benlark bellowed in frustration. His massive frame turned towards me.
I moved quickly, only to trip and stumble down. I looked to see a hole about the size of my foot where previously there wasn’t one in the floor. This was yet another reminder of my stupidity with not killing Benlark before destroying Kortan in the way that it was a lot harder then and would present me with more terrain challenges.
His dark laugh greeted me, making me instinctively roll out of the way of where he was reaching for me. I got to my feet and ran adjacently, still wobbly in my sense of stability, and aimed for the mainframe’s gaping hole. But before the light beam of the Shooter even got far, he caught me off guard with an arm I had failed to notice behind me.
I cursed Quintley’s distracting me as the arm clamped around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides and rendering the Trans Shooters useless. They were pointed at the cracked floor, and only a sheer idiot would think of shooting them at that moment.
His laughter continued, quiet and mechanic. He brought me closer to that glowing eye as the last remaining arm tugged at the guns around my hands. I struggled to keep it away by kicking at it, panicking with him stealing my only weapons.
“Oh, keep still now,” he said gently, like a doctor to a squirming child under inspection.
I wanted to cry out in anguish, but that would only satisfy his dark happiness. The Shooters had slipped from my wrists at the forced tugs, the inner mechanics believing I was releasing them from my grip, and were dropped carelessly to the floor. I shuttered at the cracking noises they made as they clanked against each other and cement. But I couldn’t look down—it’d be a deadly mistake.
He was lifting me off the ground then, closer yet to his structure. “Vera darling,” his voice was soft, like the sweet, senile man people believed him to be. “What shall we ever do with you?”
I didn’t answer and just kept staring. I wouldn’t give him an answer—especially because I didn’t have one. Then wasn’t the time to give cheeky remarks. I was still squirming when something cold, hard and rough was pressed to my temple with agitated pressure.
I froze. I didn’t know what it was, but it felt obviously sinister. I wouldn’t take my chances on it being something pleasant.
He laughed loudly, making me rather irritated. “Feeling fear yet? Have you ever wondered why it was you that had to watch everyone die? Why you survived when all you loved perished?”
I focused on remaining still. He’s only trying to taunt me, I kept reminding myself. Right then was what I accepted as my last moment. He was going to have the upper hand and kill me after all I had worked for. Perhaps I had been careless with my vendetta; naïve and sloppy in my work. So my entire painstaking work had been in vain?
VOCOM, I’m sorry. I mentally went over farewells. Mom, Dad; I love you. Gala, I love you. Quintley . . . . I couldn’t think of what to end that with. It wasn’t exactly like he had formed any more of a relationship with me than anyone else had, save perhaps the AI still hanging from my ceiling. What was I supposed to say to someone like him?
I closed my eyes, preparing for my own death. It was an odd sensation, and one I thought of as rather cheesy—fitting for Benlark’s personality. Killing me was the worst he could do anyways; it was the very last strain he could take from me, even if I was doped on neuratonic and following him like a listless zombie. There was nothing else in the way.
My fear of failure washed over me. The blood in my mouth had become dry and tasted more disgusting than it had smelt previously. My heart drowned in the sorrow of everything falling apart before my very eyes. I was going to die without ever even getting to complete my purpose. Who else was going to do that if I didn’t? No one was left. Benlark would go on, surviving for as long as possible as an AI could without proper maintenance, gloating in the glory of winning after all, of being unstopped; of killing me.
The cold thing pushed against my right temple and clicked, instantly giving away its identification.
Who the hell gave Benlark a damn gun?! I never imagined myself to die by his hand. If anyone, I expected it to be VOCOM that would be the death of me. I’d rather die by the one that kept me safe from Benlark’s reach than shamefully go down by him. It was still another matter of pride that even then, I couldn’t shake.
“Harvey,” a voice—a gentle, smooth, quiet voice—rang from below me. At first I had thought I simply imagined it, and nearly didn’t recognize it.
My eyes flew open, but I didn’t dare look behind me, where it was coming from. It was a saintly voice, one that struck the fear in me with a piercing light, disintegrating the hopeless vanity I had let my heart root itself into. That voice . . . it was that voice. Perhaps I really just wantedto hear a voice—any cherub’s voice, to save me from drowning in my own thoughts as Benlark put the bullet through my head.
But it had to be true, it had to be in existence, for Benlark froze, swerving in the direction of the feminine voice. It was as if he had entirely just forgotten about me. “You--”
“Hello again,” she sneered. “I never thought I’d have to meet you in person like this.”
“Oh KASNA! What--what happened to you, dear? You look . . . oh, my little one . . . .”
My eyebrows rose. No. It couldn’t have been—! That was impossible! VOCOM couldn’t by any means be there, in the present, physically! But, it was her voice. I took a daring peek, turning my head slowly as to not alert Benlark, and surely enough, to release my frantic anguish from its molten-steel hold, the android was walking towards us. Her gleaming white hair glowed with the saintly comparison I had derived from when she had pulled me through the aperture, nearly dead.
Her silver eyes were focusing, piercing Benlark’s with that calm, blank anger that signified her nature. She stopped just twenty feet from where my Trans Shooters had been dropped, not once glancing at me or acknowledging my presence.
But how did she do it? She was really there. The android in full form; no wires, no connections . . . how did she even get down there? How did she disconnect herself from the mainframe AI without destroying anything? I couldn’t believe it. She had been making modifications without my knowledge. It had to be her in entirety; otherwise the android would still have been nothing but a string-less puppet. It was her anchor into the world of touch and closeness, and apparently she was taking it into greater advances than I expected.
“It’s VOCOM.” She smoothly replied. That was the first time I had heard her willingly say her real system file name—and I could’ve sworn I heard a faint smugness about it. “And you’re about to destroy my creator.”
“I created you!” he bellowed instantly, moving out towards her with a jerky dash, moving me in turn. I looked down to see my feet mere yards off the ground.
“I know you did. You took me yourself.” She stated, unwavering at his anger. “You took your own granddaughter and decided to make the breaking point of Kortan Laboratory’s business. You thought it’d convince David to do the same.”
I flinched at the sound of my father’s name. I snapped my head around to stare at her. Did she say “granddaughter”? I tried to remember what she told me about her ‘past’. What did she mean, “granddaughter”?
“You were perfect,” he said gently. Was that thing bipolar? “A faithful little test subject. My very pride.”
“No, she was your pride!” she growled, a fierce undertone of neglect and anger burning through her voice. “Vera was the one you wanted! I was just a convenience! A test to see if Vera would turn out ok! If you loved me, if I was your pride, why did you turn me into a Godforsaken machine?!” strong emotion radiated through her voice, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was playing pretense for me to get loose from his grip. But her words . . . were strangely haunting. There was no acting in “loving” a machine.
“You were a very part of my labs-of me—of the labs themselves! I couldn’t have been prouder for you to become Kortan Assistant System Neuratonic Advancer!”
I took this in carefully. The mechanical cogs whirred in my tired mind as I pieced together the keys. Granddaughter. Oh dear God; it couldn’t be. Was he saying that VOCOM was human? Was human . . . . No. That couldn’t be true . . . there was no way. How did the time add up? I tried to count the years, and the parts she had told me in her story, but failed miserably. It all blurred into a giant mass- a confusing wad of lies and secrets.
But one thing I knew certainly; she was a true slave to Kortan. If she really was once human, then she was just like me. She was a true backbone to Kortan, being his granddaughter. How did I not ever see her then? Remember her from my trips to the labs when I was little? I tried to recall all the people I had met—but no one came to mind. There was no little girl save myself. Where had she been before KASNA came along?
“You ruined my life. I hadn’t a chance to live. I was only twelve and you destroyed me. Look at me now, reincarnated in the closest form of a human I’ll ever be again: a damn robot. You had me sedated with that shit neuratonic. You had me taken apart, piece by piece as you had your little engineers pick at my mind, my conscious, until you pulled me into the computerized world of codes and unloving protocols.” She sneered, tilting her chin upwards in a powerful look and manner. “You didn’t even touch me—you had your filthy son do it. My father. My cold-hearted bastard of a father that didn’t love me or you—and who you didn’t love either. Who was I to you? I was to you like you were to your parents. Maybe you saved me the grace of never beating me—but you’ve given me more suffering than you ever went through.”
Benlark lowered me further unknowingly. Just out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement, and twisted to see Quintley sneaking his way around the corner, just out of Benlark’s gaze upon VOCOM.
My heart fluttered. He couldn’t be in here! He’d get killed and I had no way to protect him!
“Ah, but sweetheart, look at the wonderful power you have! You are more powerful than any previous machine! More than any human! I didn’t do it out of hatred for you—it was for our love of science. In the name of science, we conquered more than love ever could, my dearest—“
“What good is power when I have no reason to use it?” she inquired, her tone still burning with a subsided anger. Her rooted hatred towards him was seething deep within her and possibly with greater thorns than my own rage. “I never had a choice! You forced me—“
“Sweetie, just calm down now! You know I love you very—“
“You talk to me like I’m a child!” she screamed. “I don’t even remember my name! You bastard! I bet you don’t even remember it either!” she seemed on the verge of crying, if she could have, with how passionately her wrath rippled through her controlled anger. It fumed with an elongated suffering, one I didn’t know and couldn’t match.
My feet touched the ground, and the arm loosened from around me. I breathed silently in relief. The only problem was that the Trans Shooters were still at her feet. What the hell was Quintley doing? I glanced to see him nearing me, carefully eyeing Benlark.
I felt a pang of empathy for VOCOM. Her greedy reasoning for keeping me alive then had a new tone to it—she was once human and understood the need for survival, for the need to disallow oppression forced by others. Even if she had used me for her own purposes, it was still an underlying link we shared. He had killed her; he had killed my parents and friends. He wanted to kill me in turn, and so she sought me out as her last hope.
“Of course I remember your name.” he said softly, dripping with guilt and sugar.
VOCOM glared at him coldly. “No you don’t.”
I inched carefully towards the AI, Benlark having moved his arm completely away from me. I needed to just grab a Shooter and implode his weak point. As I tried to near her, she suddenly kicked Gala’s furiously. It went skidding across the floor. I let my jaw drop in open, angry in shock at her. I had already cracked it and now what was she doing?! I couldn’t believe she had actually kicked my weapon out of my reach!
But then I noticed where it landed: directly at Quintley’s feet. And it was well-placed, for Benlark paid it absolutely no attention.
Quintley cautiously bent over to pick it up, and I realized that they had planned for that to happen. I should’ve known better than to think they’d let me fight Benlark alone. They all wanted their fair share of taking him down. But what about my Shooter? Why wasn’t she kicking it to me?
She just stood stock-still, still glaring up at her past grandfather. “You never showed you loved me. I don’t even remember what happened before you turned me into that damned machine. I remember nothing save a few glimpses enough to know I was human once.” Her voice was reverberant, piercing me yet again with her tragedy. How was it possible she was once human? It seemed unattainable in all degrees, from physically to scientifically--and yet her range of "emotion" was just so unnatural for a computer- so out of place.
“How can you say that?” Benlark’s tone was growing agitated again.
My eyes flickered to Quintley, who stood with the Shooter aimed at the very spot I had been going for, waiting for something. I looked back to stoic VOCOM.
“How can you say I didn’t love you?” he continued. “I put you into the very works of Kortan itself!”
“There were three before me!” she hissed. “I was just another one! The only difference was I the only human one! I was another test subject! Your own kin! You even tried to erase my memories. You tried to convince my body and mind that I was never human—that I had always been a machine and nothing more!”
“Don’t be stubborn!” he growled.
Damnit, why wasn’t she giving me my Trans Shooter? I continued inching forwards slowly, focusing on the scratched gun while trying to contemplate the conversation going on. But instead, she reached over and grabbed my arm with a painful grip. She jerked me over to where she stood, openly showing her hatred towards Benlark.
I panicked again. What was she doing? She was practically dangling me in front of him!
“Is that why you wanted her dead?” her voice writhed with odium. “Is that why you killed her parents after David refused to let the same thing happen to his daughter? You thought us together would be all-powerful—and we would have been! But you went about it the wrong way. You only wanted Vera to become KASNA, not me. You only used me to try and convince David that it was a good idea.”
My heart dropped. I had the same fate—no, I had the fate of becoming an AI, but VOCOM had been stuck with it instead while I had another chance at life. Her hatred for me made sense. Not because I had destroyed her labs, nor because of my alliance with Quintley—but because she had to suffer my fate.
I detested you for the longest time because you were human, I recalled her telling me. And yet, she kept me alive instead of letting me fall into my original place. She kept me alive for her own selfish purposes . . . but also because she still had moral within her- that it wasn’t right; she pitied me despite it being, in a way, my fault. I was supposed to be nothing more than a test subject and machine branded under Kortan’s name. Was that the reason for my parents’ trips with me to the labs?
“You are such a mutinous child!” Benlark yelled, lunging for us directly.
Quicker than I could keep up with, VOCOM ducked to snatch the Trans Shooter and shove it into my hands, pushing me out of the way while she ran in the opposite direction. I latched it on without second hesitation and aimed.
I fired at the same time Quintley did, both Trans Shooters pouring a maleficent source of power into Benlark’s weakest spot: the heart of the machine.