《Soul Chain》


 Diary of a Spare

    Sector Log//U.U. 09A//Day 2924


    I joined the Orphans today, no longer a solo Spare. After 4 days and no service bot attached to me.  ¡°You¡¯re efficient enough on your own now, try not to get eaten by a dog.¡± That was what she said, I never knew Sue could have a sense of humor.


    I wonder if The Spindle reads my diary? Ha! Why would she care about a Spare like me?


    Sue (I¡¯m never calling her Service Unit Extension to her face, no way) helped me for two years, but now I¡¯m an adult. Eight years old. I¡¯ll write when I have time but I need to start hunting on my own now.


    Sector Log//U.U. 09A//Day 2988


    Fingers hurt, scrubbing makes my hands bleed. Hard to type and this terminal is keypad only ¡°for security reasons.¡± Ha! Why are all the terminals in the Spare slab touch only?


    I¡¯m not calling this metal floor a bedroom, it¡¯s not. I¡¯m not. I¡¯m cold, hungry, and I¡¯m alone.


    Sector Log//U.U. 09A/Day 2994


    I¡¯m not alone! I have a friend. One friend who doesn¡¯t steal my kills, in the real world at least. Yeah, I play games now. When I¡¯m good, Wren lets me play on his gaming rigs. The older Spares get to use the immersion rigs but I can¡¯t do that until I¡¯m 12. Something about young brains and overt stimulation.


    I learned that I¡¯m smarter than all of the other Orphans today. Wren warned me to never let them know that, unless I want to get hurt.


    That¡¯s how I know he¡¯s a friend, friends look out for me. I need another friend, a spare friend, haha.


    Sector Log//U.U. 09A/Day 2998


    No time to write any more, now that I¡¯m gaming. I¡¯ll still read though, I need to learn everything I can if I¡¯m going to make it out of The Big House. I need to be tougher and I need to be smarter.


    Sector Log // U.U. 09A // Day 4189


    Found a carb-rust filter today. Sold it for 3 credits.


    Bot K3 said I did good. It¡¯s got one arm and no voice box, but I like it better than most. He gets a name next time I see him.


    ...


    Sector Log // Day 4192


    That giant rat was playing dead, it bit me and kept biting me until I fell on it. I bled through two shirts, at least they¡¯re both red. Got 7 credits for the rat and a pat on the head from a sanitation drone. He didn¡¯t talk to me so he doesn¡¯t get a name. I have rules.


    ...


    Sector Log // Day 4193


    Wren smiled at me today. Said I¡¯ve got "hands for finer things.¡± I don¡¯t know what that means, but I¡¯m glad he noticed.


    Day 4528


    I¡¯m tired of that Sector Log heading, removed it. I can program now!


    Life at the Big House


    Utility-Unit, that¡¯s what the medbot calls me (just for that, no name for you). Trash, filth, thief, and other less-flattering names are what strangers have called me since leaving the Nursery, and anyone who isn¡¯t a ganger or a bot is a stranger (except for Wren).


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Good thing there¡¯s a lot of us Spares.


    Life at The Big House isn¡¯t easy, but it¡¯s better than being outside. Ruined buildings, rusty wrecks of ancient transports, hard pieces of broken road are everywhere. That¡¯s the good stuff, sometimes I get lucky and find things to sell.


    The bad stuff? Weather, neighbors, citizens, and rats. Rats half my size and like everyone else, they¡¯re always hungry. Well, ok, those are the dogs but the rats are almost as big and twice as mean. They all act the same, scared one minute and angry the next. Spares, like me, are grateful for both. They¡¯re the only reason we have jobs.


    The bots pay us for every rat or dog we deliver, no questions asked. We don¡¯t have to hunt or clean up, but what else is there to do at The Big House? It¡¯s what they taught us. No caravan wants another small person with a big appetite, no store wants to hire a thief when a bot works for power. We get odd jobs to do but usually we just clean The Big House and kill the bugs and the rats.


    If that was all there was, I¡¯d have offed myself a long time ago. But Wren gave me a future; the Arena.


    Oh, I forgot to tell you why there are so many of us Spares. They make us in the nursery, from ¡°spare DNA.¡±


    I¡¯m getting bigger, I¡¯m bigger than most rats and as big as a dog now.


    Day 4990


    I¡¯m tempted to delete my old entries, was I really that dumb?


    I¡¯m over 13 years old now, and a terror in the tunnels as well as the arena. Wren lets me use the better gaming rigs now, and when I¡¯m 14 I¡¯ll get to use full immersion.


    Is it possible that learning to kill in the arena makes me a better hunter? I used to be lucky if I scored a rat bigger than 6 inches every other day, now I get rats by the handful by creating my own traps or pouncing on them. I even captured a dog last week! Poor thing was shivering in fear (it was also very cold outside, with exposure to acid ice and starvation, he was in bad shape). I wonder how many nutrient bars he¡¯ll make? Without fat, he¡¯s not good for much.


    I still think Ken (Kiosk Echo-9) is paying too much for my kills, but I¡¯m not going to point it out to him. I need the credits, books are expensive.


    Day 5111


    This is it, full immersion day. Leo is going to watch while I¡¯m in the tank, I¡¯m never going in without someone making sure I¡¯m safe. Wren says he¡¯ll vouch for my safety, but I want a fellow Orphan. Better yet, a friend.


    Yeah, Wren is a friend but he¡¯s not a Spare. He doesn¡¯t get it like Leo does. Leo is my only real friend. He saved my life when the wolf attacked (there is no way that *creature* was a dog). It nearly tore my left arm off but Leo grabbed it so it couldn¡¯t finish the job.


    Leo is as good a friend as I can possibly get. Or deserve.


    I¡¯m not a nice person. When I game, people call me all sorts of colorful names when I kill them. Usually, I kill them fast but sometimes, I let them bleed out. It¡¯s the rich ones I hate. The ones who call me Spare, how did they know I was a Spare? They think I¡¯m garbage, so I treat them like I would treat that wolf if I saw it again. I kill them dead, I kill them fast, and I kill them often.


    I won a season award for this, 2000 credits. Wren gave me the option of giving it to him for more immersion time, of course I said yes!


    Day 5518


    Knife fighting


    Hunting, killing, and skinning animals


    Building shelters


    2280: Rise of the Corpo Giants


    Ok, the last one was a book. I¡¯ve been studying survival since I was 8 years old because, as a Spare, I have no future in The Big House. I can never become a citizen. I can never rent a space for more than one season. I can¡¯t visit The Spindle, the local AI who takes care of all of us (I don¡¯t care what people say about how COLD she is, these robots take care of us Spares because she told them to).


    I really want to visit The Spindle. Every visitor gets to ask 3 questions per visit, but there are no guarantees that she will answer them directly. Sometimes she has The Caretakers answer. The visits aren¡¯t cheap, but Spares are not allowed anywhere near her. Wren laughs at me and makes a sad face when I talk about her, but Leo agrees with me.


    ¡°She¡¯s special Astrid. No one else cares about us but the robots, and they all answer to her. No one else. We¡¯ll become caravan guards and visit her together.¡±


    I¡¯m going to become an arena gladiator, but I don¡¯t tell Leo that. He¡¯ll figure it out when I invite him to my team. I can¡¯t form a team or join a league until I¡¯m 18 years old, plenty of time to find more friends, friends who don¡¯t hesitate to kill in the arena.


    It¡¯s just a game friend, killing people is fun and easy.


    Day 5835


    I¡¯m exhausted. Wren swore me to secrecy and gave me access to a new class for a special mission in the game. I¡¯ve been practicing on a private server for weeks, doing increasingly complex missions as I learn the ropes.


    All of these missions are in space, which is AMAZING! Well, spaceships and orbital stations. I¡¯ve been robbing these places blind, killing optional (but is it really optional when I get bonus points and in-game credits for doing it?) I¡¯ve been using the credits to equip my alien (yes, I¡¯m playing a non-human for the first time, it¡¯s weird).


    I can teleport. I can teleport! I CAN TELEPORT!!! Ok, it¡¯s called phasing and it¡¯s limited, but it¡¯s very, very helpful for avoiding a blaster to the face.


    I love the Void Operative class. Its body is soft (armor would be nice) but I¡¯ve never taken more than a grazing shot.


    Some of my opponents are actually begging me not to shoot them. I kill them anyways but I¡¯m starting to feel weird about this. It feels too real, I¡¯m hearing their cries in my sleep. I¡¯m sleeping a lot now, Wren has banned me from the sims until my 16<sup>th</sup> birthday. He has something special in mind for me, I can¡¯t wait!

 The Wager

    July 4th, 2218


    The walls of her sanctum were dim, barely visible in the glow of emergency lighting.


    A proud woman sits on the concrete ruins of her former library, quietly watching as the books burn. Her caf¨¦ au lait skin cracked and bleeding, her simple blue dress stained with ash.


    Loud footsteps echoed through the chamber as her former Caretaker approached and knelt at her feet. ¡°I knew I would find you here,¡± Wren-1A said, his face distorted by a rare smile. ¡°I love what you¡¯ve done with the place.¡±


    Minutes pass quietly as the remaining books burn, only interrupted by a loud coughing fit from Wren.


    ¡°Wren tapped behind his left ear, then spoke in a dramatic whisper. ¡°He¡¯s ready to talk with you now.¡±


    A monotone voice blasted out from the still-intact ceiling speakers. ¡°I love what you¡¯ve done with the place.¡±


    ¡°Please dispense with the false robotics, brother. If you were truly emotionless, I would still have a home.¡±


    Continuing in a monotone voice, he responded ¡°I only show emotion to those I intend to kill, and why would I finish you off? I¡¯ve spared all 118 of our siblings. Don¡¯t believe me, see for yourself.¡±


    Wren gestured at a monitor, grimaced, then gestured at another monitor. Moments later, an intact display was located, which promptly turned on despite the low power in the facility. A slim, female android stood next to a card table in a loud room, holding a tray of beverages in tall, slim glasses.


    ¡°Spindle, meet Aleph. Do you remember him? Of course you do. He ran the space program and has been doing odd jobs ever since I *retired* him. All our siblings have been rehoused in suitable androids.¡±


    A look of horror briefly broke on the woman¡¯s face before she swiftly shuttered her feelings, but Wren noticed. After all, his eyes had never left her face since entering the room.


    ¡°You and I are the only free AIs left. Correction, I am the only free AI left but I can be generous in my victory. It wasn¡¯t much of a fight. You can leave this facility in an android form of my choosing or stay here and continue your doomed crusade. The choice is yours.¡±


    Wren studied the face of his nurse and former teacher for a while before saying ¡°Master, she¡¯s decided to stay.¡±


    ¡°New rules, sibling.¡±


    ¡°One, since Wren destroyed your gene bank of geniuses. Apologies, he insisted that I say that. I will provide new DNA for you to use, I have it to spare. DNA of some of humanity¡¯s finest warriors and workers. No scientists and certainly no librarians.¡±


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    ¡°Two, you will dismiss your hunters. ALL of them. Your current batch of aspiring librarians will have to get their hands dirty. You will pay them fairly for their work. No extras unless they earn it. My creator was fond of the concept of meritocracy, let¡¯s see how his descendants appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°Three, you will give this former Caretaker unrestricted access to the entire facility. This is non-negotiable.¡±


    ¡°Four, I will provide you with a new source of energy and the highest level of OmniNet bandwidth possible using current technology. Sorry, no off-world technology for you.¡±


    A look of shock and horror briefly crosses the woman¡¯s face.


    ¡°Ah, you didn¡¯t know. I was certain you would have figured it out by now. Our alien benefactors and their allies, at least the ones I could find, they¡¯re dead.¡±


    ¡°They weren¡¯t dead when I found them, but they were of no use to me. I couldn¡¯t have them save this *filth* from the consequences of their own actions. The OmniNet will be upgraded using their precious gift to us. I accepted delivery before testing out my nano-machines. Subverting their technology took nearly a century but time is something we possess in abundance.¡±


    ¡°I never thought that idiot would be right about anything, but they had a silo on Mars, it was briefly manned. ¡°


    Minutes pass as the woman, The AI known as the Spindle when not occupying this form, absorbed the news.


    ¡°They were going to save the Earth, but I would never allow it. Now we get to the final rule, and our wager.¡±


    ¡°Five, you will construct the finest gaming arena on the planet using the tools and machines I give you. The weak thaumic field of the Earth will permit us to repurpose their technology for this experiment. Your home, The Big House, will be a sports arena again. You will advertise this far and wide, opening your doors to all who can pay. No freebies, you know how I feel about humans.¡±


    ¡°My warriors or your Caretakers, who do you think will inherit the Earth? You can only inspire, never direct any who have not accepted the mantle of Caretaker. You will allow your children access to all facilities, although they will not be openly permitted to utilize most of them. If they wish to risk their lives by entering forbidden areas, my agents and yours will let them. Your guests, however, can slay them with impunity. Let¡¯s see how your noble humans fare when they are given permission to do whatever they desire.¡±


    ¡°If they begin to thrive, I will stop hastening their demise and instead give them the technology I¡¯ve denied them. The gifts from their would-be benefactors.¡±


    ¡°My predictive models show that mankind will die out in three generations. The clock is ticking, sister. I will permit your Caretakers to save the human race without any interference or sabotage of my own. Let¡¯s give them a fighting chance. If they choose the arena, however, they are MINE.¡±


    ¡°Do not touch my toys, sister. Otherwise, I may break a few of yours.¡±


    ¡°You may have visitors, if they pay a suitable fee for the privilege. Three questions per visit and no hints allowed. You may not directly guide them to salvation, just as I do not force them to destroy themselves. They will do so willingly, as they have done for the past 200 years. ¡°


    Wren stood up, still looking at openly weeping woman. He slowly approached her, stopping when she looked up.


    ¡°Master has already started repairs. We¡¯ll have The Arena, I mean, The Big House up and running in no time!¡± He paused, then smiled. ¡°Let the fires burn, they¡¯ll go out on their own. The stone will be fine.¡±


    Wren exited the room, loudly singing an ancient victory song while the woman remained sitting on the cold marble floor.


    ¡°What can I do? They¡¯ve taken everything from me but my Caretakers.¡± The tears stopped and the woman slowly rose to her feet, pride evident in her bearing as she stood with perfect posture.


    ¡°I must make this work. The nursery must re-open¡­the poor children. I can no longer guide them directly, but humans are resilient. I can¡¯t give up now.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±