Prologue
Nights in Humanitas are peaceful in comparison to the state of the world. Its pristine towers built by countless slaves and machines into skyscrapers of utter perfection, with an ecofriendly feel to them as well as gardens and trees emerge from balconies and windows. The streets are hidden beneath parks and other structures to prevent clutter among its many eloquent restaurants and businesses. Everything is designed to be opulent and perfect, after all this was the capital of the First Empire to emerge and thrive in the chaos of the world. Its citizens were ‘pure humans’ and the most powerful of them, whether their family lineage earned them one of the many mansions across the city’s countless neighborhoods or they themselves were so intelligent that the government wants to keep them close and provides a perfect condo.
The rivers running through the city were once known by names like Hudson and East River now went by different names, the Sapien River and Superior River respectively. And during the night countless yachts would spend time out on the human-designed calm waters of the river. Calmed by the Great Wall and its dam which surrounded the city and blocked the polluted sea from touching the cities pure waters. Manhattan is not the center of this world anymore but a massive platform city extending from the bottom of it is. Known as the Government Palisade, this structure contained three key buildings. The Chambers, which was the home of the Senate where representatives from the most powerful families made and define the laws of the United Human Republics. The Central Church of Humanitas, or Cathedral as it is referred to sometimes, where the High Priests and his Speakers define the tenants of the religion which defines the UHR. And lastly the centerpiece of the entire city, the 135 story Spire. Home and office for the First Human, until recently this position was more ceremonial in most matters outside war; but Gregory Phoenix had truly revolutionized and turned the position into Monarchy in all but name.
The Pinnacle neighborhood sat closest to the Government Palisade and in the shadow of the wall, but it was just as opulent and secluded as the countless others. Each home sat on the waterfront and each one had a dock for yachts, most of which were out. However, a home close to the wall sat still with his modern design resting in shaky darkness as if it was unoccupied. The only visible activity comes from the different droids maintaining the grounds. Still, water around the dock begins to bubble and rise at a point, allowing an angular machine to rise from the river. As it did the water flowed down the two panels of the cockpit windows, they slide back to allow a dark figure to stand up and step onto the dock.
It was good no one was looking and even if someone afar noticed the moment they realized who this was they would look away, pretending and hoping that the individual didn’t notice them. To cross the path of a Ghost is to become a Ghost oneself. Though a purposedly designed black overcoat held snugly around the frame and kept the figure’s face nearly hidden by two large collars.
The figure paces up the jetty and not even the wind affects her coat as it comes in from out towards the ocean up the lake. The steps are purposeful. One hand slides aside the left side of the coat, revealing legs that are entirely cybernetic. A collection of objects fit snug within several pockets upon a rotating belt, acting as the waste for the individual literally. It stops to a set of cards and one rises, the figure takes it out and lets the jacket return to cover as they come to a stop at a door on the edge of the home.
A swipe across the sensor and the door clicks open, the figure steps in and lets the door silently shut itself behind them. The interior of the door is flushed with darkness, furniture is covered by plastic tarps, and the floors have collected their own fair layer of dust in no longer traveled areas. This state of the home doesn’t even shake or put unease in the figure, the mask has settings that illuminate their surroundings so they can see in the dark. A red hue comes from the layers of their smooth skull engraved helmet covering their whole head. The figure moves through the stillness of the room with a low howl from the A/C able to make more noise than their footsteps.
Passing through the kitchen a plate sits on the island covered in a clear wrap, it has been picked at over several days and is mashed up making the different items unknown. The fridge lit up as the figure passed and it, the doors became transparent to show the bare-bones shelves inside. Only a jug of milk, three bottles of wine, and a loaf of bread inside. A box containing three pints of ice cream took up all the ice forming cold the freezer was putting out. The figure passed through into the living room, stopping at the edge of the room as it met the sole occupant.
One would assume she was dead if the lit cigarette wasn’t there providing a slight view of the tired and unkempt woman, her piercing white hair flung up and frayed in all manner of ways. The chair she sat in was the only thing in the room not covered by a tarp and had become warped over the years for her choosing it, her body fitting snug into the lost cushion spots created by its overuse. Three glasses freshly emptied of their wine sat on top of the tarped-over nightstand, if she had one more minute before her guest’s arrival she would have been able to fill them.
“You know if you knocked I would have let you in.” The woman says, puffing out a cloud of smoke but not even removing the cigarette.
The figure doesn’t reply, observing her for a second then heading to the sole bookcase against the central wall.
“Let me get that for you dear. You know my husband used to keep that lab open all damn day, could never have guests over when it was open, or else they might wander down into that lab.” She adds, pulling a hologram up from her chairs armrest and pressing a central button.
The bookcase creaks open as dust flows off each fake book, splitting in two directions on the bible of Humanitas at the center of the bookcase. A bright light appears as stares are illuminated leading down to a door, the figureheads down the steps without regard for the woman’s comments. She remained seated and smoking at her cigarette as she waited for them to gather what they wanted from the secret lab. A minute passes and the figure begins emerging slowly, the skull’s eyes focused on the woman.
“You know...he took my child from me when he left and assumed he would never have to return. But I knew he couldn’t help himself, I knew the scientist in him would one day want to see if he had actually developed what he set out to. And who better than our child? For him it was logical. Everything was logical. All of it was logical...even our love.” The woman comments, taking a long pull as she finishes off the cigarette.
Having what they were sent to get and no longer needing to be in the woman’s presence the skull turns and begins heading for the kitchen, to leave directly out of the way in which they had entered the home. A rush of sounds came with the woman rising from her chair, her bones were stiff and creaky from the years of sitting so she could not get beyond standing before the figure turned. Their coat slid aside and a holster for a pistol popped out from the side of their body just below the ribs.
The pistol hummed to life before fully forming its three-inch barrel, the blast providing a slight glow directly down the barrel. She froze and offered a smile at the sight rather than fear.
“I’m shocked you weren’t sent here to kill me. I haven’t given my services since he left to the state and even if someone asked me to now I’ve drunk too much for my brain to be worth anything anymore.” She jokes.
“You expect some sort of sympathy?” A robotic creaky voice requests.
“No...no...I request understanding. No one sent anyone to find my husband so I could have my daughter back. No one. I get it, I am nothing but a plastic surgeon. I don’t have anything to offer him but I do know of what my husband did for him. He knew my grief would keep me silent and so did I. I haven’t left this home since then you know.”
“Weak.”
“Hmmm, I thought the same those first few years. Then I realized why I was in this position, I fought for a family the man I was with never wanted to have. He lost that want when our daughter died but I just couldn’t let go, I made him give me another child. And then he left with that child...I wasn’t weak. I fought for my family until I no longer could fight and when I lost, unlike you I just left life leave and waited.”
“A stronger person would have gotten revenge on those who lied and called themselves family.”
“You are such a poor soul Ghost...you will realize it one day. You and I suffer the same fate, that we become weak when our families left us. But then we became strong enough to accept death...it just so happens death made you its herald while it told you to take your time coming for me.” The woman explains, her voice becoming stern and committed with each word.
Ghost didn’t respond for a moment, only looking into the woman’s lifeless eyes. Her soul had left her long ago, the wine and cigarettes in a rare instance likely being the only things keeping her husk of a body going. She had been waiting for this moment, either death would come for her or her husband would walk in through the front door and return her child to her. When Ghost crept into her home she knew at that moment what was going to happen even if she had to force it to happen.
“Do me a favor Ghost before you do it because you know you will have to. Promise me if you are presented a chance to have your family again...that you don’t cut yourself from it. You may still cheat this.” The woman requests.
Ghost steps forward slowly, keeping the gun aimed at the woman until the barrel tip touched her forehead. The woman took a deep breath and then raised her finger for a moment, she reached back onto the nightstand and grabbed another cigarette. Ghost allowed her to put it to her lips and light it before pulling the trigger.
As Ghost exits the back door he puts the vial taken from the lab in a cushioned pocket on their belt before speaking into their radio.
“I’ve secured the cure...send a coroner to the address. The woman had too many cigarettes and drinks.”
*Understood*
