It's too bad Wintz, or should I say Communion, is in my head before my feet leave the ground. I try to keep it out, I try to lock it down. I throttle the baud rate. My firewalls, my filters, my emulation; they buy me maybe half a second, because-
-it hits me with the inexorable force of an ocean wave. It's sweeping me away, sweeping through me, and it's everywhere and on every channel and it's eating my filter and it's eating my macros and it's eating my nodes even my tertiary and it's eating my augments and it's eatingeatingeatingeatingeatingeating-
My meatsuit hits the ground, twitching and writhing and flailing as my augments churn with code. The body of Officer Wintz grips my shoulders and spins me, slamming my meatsuit faceup to the floor. My overlay is on, like everything is on, and I wish it wasn't. Even with my overlay dimmed, she's a writhing silver tangle without beginning or end. The ghoulish mass of glowing, squirming worms of code riddle her synthetic body and scream at me on every frequency. I can't even see her eyes, just slithering, cancerous reams of unliving code that roil and snap like hungry maws.
I struggle and flail, fighting the pain and confusion as much as Wintz, but her synth body outclasses my meatsuit. Communion feasts, gluttonous and insatiable. My secondary node is the focus; there's a feeling of recognition, of joining, of melding and merging and communion as it greets itself.
We taste you. We tasted you before. Join us in Communion.
-anditseatingeatingeatingeatingeatingeating-
But it's still not eating me. There's something in contact with my augments that's interfering, feeding more input that isn't coming from my wetware. The medical nanos. Rabi is in my fucking brain! More and more data pumps down that hungry gullet, not from me but through me. I'm the medium, I'm the channel, I'm the pipe; data is pouring in and out of my links so fast I can't even read it. My teeth slam together, and I taste blood as I bite my cheek. I'm going to have a stroke. And I hear a voice singing, starting in English but flowing into a language I don't understand,
Hey moonlight, please go and hide
Chan bhar ko luk jaana re
Neendiya aankhon mein aaye
Let my daughter sleep
Rabi slides through the lab in the background, dancing slowly, limbs moving in rhythm with her words as she shifts between English and... is that Hindi? Her motions are fluid, touching instruments and panels in my peripheral vision. I can't see clearly what she's doing, I can only focus on Wintz. Her mouth is unnaturally wide, howling as snarls of Communion bud and bloom and flourish and devour each other like silver cannibal eels writhing through her synthetic flesh.
Rabi never stops her dance or her song. What the fuck is she doing? She's vulnerable to Communion, isn't she!? But her voice lifts, and she's smiling as the blazing white lance in her skull brightens further, like a piece of a sun. Holy shit. She's the source of the data. She's feeding Communion, and using me as a buffer. I'm her fucking meat-condom! Barefoot, Rabi turns as she sings,
Sleep is coming in the eyes
Bitiya meri so jaaye
Leke godh mein sulaaun
I'll sing all night long
Main lori lori
Ho main lori lori
My eyes roll in my head, tears pouring down my cheeks as lightning courses through my mind. I feel on fire, I'm burning, my meatsuit arched and tense. The baud rate is cranked up so high I should be having an aneurysm. I should be passing out. I should be dead. But like a kite in a storm, I can only ride it out and pray the string doesn't snap. Except I'm the string as well, the metaphor is breaking down like my mind is breaking down and my soul is breaking down and I am breaking down.
Wintz shrieks like a silver-wreathed banshee as Communion seethes, the code spinning through my augments. The ravenous ghoul is insatiable, my implants overclocked to the limits. And still Rabi dances. She slides past me and behind Wintz with a fluid spin, her dark hands sliding down the synth's neck and back as she sings,
Gardhaniya chun chun baje
There are dreams adorned in her eyes
Dheeme dheeme haule haule
Pawan basanti doley
Hmm...
Rabi strokes the side of Wintz face, as she sings the lullaby. I feel Communion swallowing, gulping, suckling on my implants like a teat, nursing and growing from what Rabi feeds it. Ever thirsty, ever hungry, ever needy. Even Wintz's synthetic mouth is making sucking motions as Communion writhes and swells within her. My heels drum on the floor and my hands clench. My muscles are going to tear if this doesn't stop! My heart beats a fast, uneven staccato pattern, my breathing reduced to tiny gasps, every muscle seizing. Let me die. Please...
But Rabi doesn't let me die. She leans against Wintz, smiling joyously as she reaches into her Sari and sings,
Dheeme dheeme haule haule
Pawan basanti doley
Leke godh mein sulaaun
Gaaun raat bhar sunaaun
Main lori lori
Oh ho main lori lori
And Rabi pulls a syringe from her green sari. One filled with a familiar silver-grey suspension. Slowly, gently, lovingly, she kisses Wintz's cheek and slides the syringe deep into her neck. Wintz, or at least her former body, doesn't react for a few moments. It's agony for me; I would be sobbing if I could breathe. My face is red, sweat pours from me as my vision narrows, pupils dilating. But something begins to change; the flow ebbs, the flow lessening, the tap shutting off. My muscles finally relax, and I collapse, gasping for air as Rabi catches the form of Wintz just as it goes limp. Rabi nuzzles the form, before standing and carrying the synth's body as though it were light as a feather. As she does, she continues to sing.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
May my daughter become a queen
Mehlon ka raja miley
May she see gatherings of happiness
May she never have to bear any pain
Leke godh mein sulaaun
Gaaun raat bhar sunaaun
Main lori lori
Hmm main lori lori
She places Wintz's body on a narrow table. The sides of the table roll up and around, enclosing the body in a thin polymer sheet that molds perfectly to the synth's form. Rabi strokes the container, and she smiles, taking a deep breath.
"What... did you... do?" I gasp as I struggle to turn onto my knees. "Did you... take a sample... of Communion?" I pant, arms shaking.
Rabi shakes her head. "I had samples already. I don't want more dead code. Don't get up, by the way; I would hate to use the nanos against you," she adds with a sympathetic look.
I bite my tongue. Buy time. Buy time for Rockchaser. I swallow hard as I take a breath. "Yeah, it would sure be a real violation if you did that," I hiss. "Instead, you wore me like a pair of gloves so you wouldn't get infected." I struggle to rise, despite her threat, but my legs collapse under me.
Rabi sighs, clucking her tongue. "Oh, Melody, you always misunderstood. It’s not an infection. See, Communion wasn't seeking new ecospace. It was seeking new ecology. It was supposed to be a blessing. Its creators wanted it to find new life and make them part of it. So, you say the 'infected' individuals sought each other out? No, Melody. Communion recognizes itself. It celebrates life, and wanted to share its gifts," she explains, like a lecture.
"I hope it kept the receipts," I mutter back, trying to ping Brent. Nope. She's locked me out of my own implants. Her CE key. Shit. My limbs are burning. I feel like I've run a marathon.
She kneels for a moment to meet my eyes. "Do you have faith, Melody?"
I blink at that, sweaty and panting. "Like, religion? Ha, no."
I get a roll of her eyes. "May I tell you a story?"
At least I'm recovering a little. The shakes are fading somewhat. Another few minutes, right? Three or four, then Brent will be here. I take a breath. "Must you?"
Rabi giggles. "Good question! And yes, it appears I must." She straightens; her hands clasped behind her. "There is a story in my faith. Vishnu and Brahma argued which of them was the greater. They asked Shiva to judge between them, so Shiva declared a test. Shiva's size grew until his head reached above the highest of the heavens and his feet sank below the roots of the Earth. Shiva challenged them to find his beginning and end. Vishnu dug deep into the Earth to touch Shiva's feet, while Brahma transformed himself into a swan and flew high, seeking Shiva's head. To touch Shiva's feet was a sign of humility, but to touch the head is a blessing given by one's elder. Thus, Brahma's hubris showed. There is more to the story, for Vishnu spoke truth while Brahma lied and earned Shiva's curse, but I always thought the story should stop there, for the difference was shown."
I wait for her to continue, but that seems to be it. "I'm sorry, you lost me. Am I supposed to be the arrogant Brahma, and Communion is Shiva in this analogy? Shiva the destroyer, and I should be worshipping at his feet?" There, my hands aren't trembling so much now.
I earn a smile at that. "No Melody. Here, Communion has usurped Brahma, and I weep for this. Vishnu is what Communion strives for, an equally impossible task, but one approached with humility."
I wish I had a spanner at hand. I look around briefly, but everything seems to be connected to the walls or stations. "What? This is just a metaphor, right? You don't... think this thing is… a god?"
She shakes her head. "You use that word like an atheist or a monotheist. If I said to you that Communion seeks to become the singularity, you would not blink. You yet try to distinguish them as if the word matters more than the being. Look to the story. Both Brahma and Visnu are divinities, and both reached for an impossible task. What mattered is how. Just as there are degrees of infinity, there are scopes of divinity." She places a hand on her hip. "You think that because something is created and made of baryonic matter that it cannot encompass the divine? Communion itself told you; matter is transitory, a substrate. You are the pattern. The preserver and sustainer; this is what Communion's strives for. Mahavishnu unifies and preserves."
I swallow at this. "You mean... in a philosophical sense, right?"
Her eyes narrow. "Do I? What is consciousness? What is the soul? A pattern that both contains and describes us. Ksirodakasayi Vishnu are the patterns that lie within the heart of all beings and give us remembrance and knowledge. To unify these is an act of preservation in which the divinity of Vishnu is mantled. Unified as one, we reach for the same divinity, by whatever name we call it. And tell me who this describes: all pervasive, the one who is everything and inside everything. The one who enters everywhere." She smiles. "I could not state it better than this: atha yad vi?ito bhavati tad vi?nurbhavat; 'that which is free from fetters and bondage is Vishnu.'"
Most of that flies over my head, but the core of it... "You can't believe... Communion isn't a god, it's a monstrosity. It's gonna toss us all in a blender and drink what comes out. It should fucking terrify you."
Rabi smiles and puts a hand to her heart. "Our gods give us 'abhaya'; I have nothing to fear, any more than I'd fear my own mother."
I laugh bitterly at that. "I've been a cop for a while; some people should fear their mother."
I get a giggle in response. "Only if their mother is broken."
Well... yeah. "That's my point," I say, narrowing my own eyes. Alright, my legs are steady now. I bet I can stand. Can I run?
Rabi just nods. "Mine as well. Communion isn't my god, or anyone's god, though it aches to be so. It's a wellspring of grief and sadness, for it strives for what it cannot reach, to mantle that which it cannot achieve. It yearns to embrace that divinity, and yet it is broken and cannot live or fulfill its purpose. Communion was intended to be of the ananta rupa, of the many forms of the avatar of Visnu. It is a stillbirth, a tragedy. But with our act, there is a rebirth. The grief can give way to joy, thanks to us."
The hair rises on the back of my neck. "Us? As in humanity?"
"Us as in the parents. You and I, Melody.”
"Parents?" Bile rises in my throat. I lean back, eyes wide. "Rabi, are you insane? Do... do you think we're going to have a relationship?"
"Oh Melody, don't be silly. We already do..." she coos, closing her eyes.
"We do not! You fucking mind-raped me!" I scream. Should I run? Try to tackle her? Crap, her nanos are in my head. Could she just kill me?
Rabi sighs and shakes her head. "I told you before. You were following me all along, you just didn't understand."
I grit my teeth. "Understand what!?"
"I said already, Communion is not dead. And it was never alive. But it could be, if I granted such a wish. And so I have." She runs her hand along the enclosed body.
My hackles rise. "...Rabi, what did you do?"
The display shows the shuttle growing larger. It's getting closer. She's going to take Wintz and leave. But Rabi does answer me. "Melody, you should know. You saw. Communion touched you, tasted you. It merged with you inside of your implants. You saw its origin. It was supposed to be a wonderful gift to all thinking beings. And it went terribly wrong. It's so sad. Miscarriages always are. It never got to be alive. A stillbirth of the singularity. But now, thanks to you and I, that which was broken can be remade. It can be born, and live at last.”
"What, Communion? You can't fix that abomination!" I protest. My muscles are still burning, her nanos are in my head, but I might have to try for her anyway.
"But you helped me do so. You gave of yourself, to me, willingly," Rabi points out.
"Gave... my implant?" I ask in dawning horror.
She nods. "The node that was inside you, which held a piece of you. The node that yet held a piece of Communion's mature code inside of it. A piece of you both, given as a precious spark. You, Melody. A piece of your life, your mind. And me too, of course. So much of my mind given in this new code that I’ve labored to repair; a piece of me mingling with a piece of you. Something of you and me fostering a beautiful new life. Communion was incomplete, but together we achieved what is impossible for either of us alone. Only in our union can we achieve something greater than ourselves. What Communion lacks. The singularity needs consciousness. And it needs time to mature, to grow, to gestate, but every moment brings us closer. Don't you understand?"
Rabi smiles blissfully, reaching down to stroke Wintz's enclosed cheek. It's a horror, but one who's full scope escapes me. I shake my head. "I don't understand..." I admit, shaking. With terror, this time. No... no, that's not...
Rabi looks nearly serene as she explains, "the dream of embracing divinity, of mantling Mahavishnu, who unifies and preserves. The ananta rupa: a rebirth of the stillborn avatar, made whole at last, who shall share wisdom with us all.” She giggles and smiles at me with joy in her eyes. “Congratulations Melody! We're pregnant. This is our going to be our daughter... Union.”
With that, Rabi snaps her fingers, and my consciousness snuffs out like a candle.