Suveron, Prologue (Part 5)

Mandar left work late today. It had been an exceptionally rough day on the job. He had been needed to approve a higher than average number of decisions on where to concentrate his Sentries and Sentinels. While most human work had been automated, and humans became mostly superfluous, occasionally straggling farmworkers made their way into the large metropolis and tried to take things for themselves. Mandar had witnessed massive transformations in his lifetime. The cities had largely been emptied out by a combination of automation and the Yellow Plague. He remembered a time when they were brimming with life, when the world itself was filled with much more vitality. He remembered when he had co-workers, and when it was humans to do the jobs he was now delegating to the automatons. That's it, he thought. The beauty of this new world was that he could relive the past at any time as if it were the present, thanks to the recall protocols built in to his interlink console. Perfect. He settled into his recliner, then tapped his temple twice and spoke "recall January 3rd, 2036, 6:00am." He closed his eyes, and his synapses began to fire.

The crowd roared defiantly against the riot line. Mandar had seen this many times, it was what he and his crew were trained for. These people, were threats to national security, and he knew they needed to be dealt with. The Empire, and its future, depended on the cooperation of the masses with the established order. Any deviation from plan would leave their beloved nation vulnerable to enemies from without. Mandar knew his duty. "Wait," he thought. Something is wrong. This was not the correct day he wished to relive. There must be some malfunction. "End thought-chain." It didn't work. Mandar watched as the crowd of protesters, who were demanding food and work, began to chant "Human rights or bloody fights," over and over. His force had created a barrier at both ends of the street that the crowd was marching down. They needed to be contained. So far, there had been no violence, and Mandar figured that most would see its futility. Suddenly, his visor flickered to life. It was the Chief of Police. "Deputy Chief Mandar, our orders are to subdue this insurrection by any means necessary. The use of lethal force has been authorized." Not again, Mandar thought. He knew his unit was growing weary of the slaughter, but what choice did he have? If he did not carry out the request, then he would be replaced with someone who would. He sighed and then issued the order into his mic.

The media was completely under the thumb of the state now, but maintained the illusion of independence. They would not reveal the truth of what happened this day. Cell signals had been brought down, and so the only way the truth would get out would be if they missed someone. He'd already tried to disperse the crowd, and they refused to leave. Mandar watched as the line of officers before him raised their barrels to fire upon the crowd. The crowd was already attempting to push past the barriers that had penned them in, but he knew there would be no escape. Mandar awaited for the first shot to ring out, but it never came. A single rifle barrel swiveled around to target Mandar's position. "Negative Deputy Chief." Then, almost as in unison, the barrels of the other officers on the line swiveled around to face Mandar. Anger flashed across Mandar's face for just a second. "Officers, lower your weapons or you will be marked as enemies of the state." "We are the state," retorted Hawkins, the officer who was the first turncoat. Mandar raised his hands in surrender. "You'll all be fired, and disgraced for your mutinies," Mandar barked. Two officers approached Mandar, grabbed him on either arm, and began walking him away from the scene.

"Citizens, your voice has been heard. We will be dispersing. Please return to what you are doing. We will be leaving the scene," Hawkins' voiced boomed on the speakers. The crowd calmed down, and the police began to remove the barriers. Some of them stood behind the others, guns raised, and watchful of the crowd. What Mandar did not know is that Hawkins had planned this event. He and his comrades were tired of slaughtering people who just wanted to live; angry people whose government had failed them. Some of the officers had family among the crowd. Mandar, was the type whose family would never be found among its ranks. He had more control of them than that. Mandar turned his head back to face the squad car he was now being ushered into. "Fools," Mandar muttered. He had always been rewarded for his loyalty, and knew that the officers involved in this mutiny would be swiftly punished. What were they thinking?

"Recall ended," the voice of his assistant rattled off in his head. He opened his eyes and his surroundings, the lit living room of his dwelling, came into focus. He remembered on his own, without having to relive what happened next. The President, upon hearing what had happened at the scene of the riot, reacted swiftly to gut the police force of humans nationwide. Each local force was subsumed by the federal police force, comprised of the Sentinels and Sentries. All it took was a month to oust the disloyal from the ranks, and to replace synapse with cybernetics. There would be no future mutinies from the police. The movement against the officers happened so quickly, as the state determined it was too risky to allow the rebellious officers to continue to exist unpunished for their crimes. The state knew that its greatest threats to its reign were ex-police and ex-military who had grown disgruntled. In secret, it had built up its mass of cybernetic monstrosities in order to supplant the biological lawgivers almost overnight. Mandar, and a handful of other higher ranking officers who had demonstrated their loyalty, were retained as the button pushers. While Sentients and their derivatives were obedient beyond question, they were also hackable. A loyal human, however, could not be so easily hacked, so long as they had the appropriate incentive structure.

Mandar was valued for his service. He was an individual who was quite farsighted, and knew he would be rewarded for loyalty to his superiors. He also had a bit of a darkness that had brewed inside him; a sort of sadistic impulse. He had told no one about the inner pleasure he derived from seeing his fellow humans in a powerless position. Still, it was quite easy to profile individuals like him, which had been done. This sadistic sentiment was seen as an asset to be capitalized on: a puppet string. What Mandar didn't anticipate, is when his value to his superiors would run out, and that they were just like him, but had been running low on targets. The monitor on his wall flashed on, and he would soon be learning the error of his thinking.

The automated message flashed onto the screen, and he carefully considered its content. "Shit," he thought out loud. They were relieving him of duty. He'd wondered why they were even sending this message in the first place. It made no sense, they could have simply sent sentinels to select his shackles. No matter. Maybe they were toying with their prey. He hurriedly rose to his feet, and rushed for the shotgun stored in the vault off to the side of his room. "Access denied," the computer spat at him after he tried his thumbprint. He tried again, same thing. So it had come to this, he thought. At least he had his sidearm. He scrambled to pull up the section of carpet in the corner of the room which concealed the passage he had installed in case his residence was ever stormed. This should work, he thought. Then, he heard the unthinkable: the crash of his front door being smashed to pieces and the sound of his windows shattering. He scrambled into the tunnel just in time to avoid Sentries who had swarmed into his flat. They wanted something from him, otherwise, why even bother doing all of this? His thoughts continued to race on the matter as the view of the hatch he had used to get underground faded into the distance.

image created with help from LeonardoAI