Levelling a Novella: a dark mind-bending sci-fi horror Read online

  The judge turned abruptly to Addison.

  “Mr. Moore?”

  “Sorry?” he stammered, caught off guard.

  “These names are unfamiliar,” One replied. “Any historical or cultural context would be constructive.”

  Addison was aware of Ross’ eyes boring into him.

  “Well,” he began, stumbling over his words. “They were rich people, owned billion dollar companies. Tech, retail, that sort of thing. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them, they were pretty fam––”

  “Our records are not as complete as we would like,” the judge interrupted. “But tell me, these people, were they good?”

  “At their jobs?”

  “Morally. Did they oppose the ecological holocaust?”

  “Oppose...?”

  The judge’s face flashed with irritation.

  “Did they pour all their wealth into averting the oncoming disaster?”

  “All of it? Not exactly...”

  “Thank you, Mr. Moore,” the judge said, turning away. “Most helpful.”

  Across the court, Ross was staring at Addison.

  “We are trying you, Mr. Ross,” One continued. “Your peers’ alleged conduct has no mitigating effect on your own.”

  But Ross wasn’t listening.

  “You’re not one of them!” he said, eyes fixed on Addison. “I can see your face moving. Who are you?”

  “The interpreter,” he replied. “Didn’t they tell yo–”

  “Then help me!” the man yelled, eyes wide. “For god’s sake man, help me!”

  Addison’s heart was pounding. Ross no longer seemed like he was acting, he looked genuinely terrified. Something was very wrong here.

  “Thank you all,” the judge said, as Four’s pistol clicked and Ross fell silent. “My verdict is as follows.”

  Now it was Addison’s turn to interrupt.

  “Already?” he blurted.

  “You have something to contribute, Mr. Moore?”

  Addison was aware he was breaking character, but he was unwilling to let whatever this was spiral further out of control.

  “No due process?” he replied, looking around the court. “No jury of one’s peers?”

  “That is not our custom.”

  “What is this? What are you trying to achieve here? This isn’t justice, it’s… revenge! It’s transparent. You might as well just whack out the guillotines! Who is your employer? What’s behind this?”

  “Five,” the judge growled, turning to the defence table. “You assured us no outbursts.”

  “Apologies, your honour,” Five replied, before shooting Addison a panicked look.

  Play along, he mouthed.

  Addison’s reply was cut off by One banging his gavel.

  “I find the defendant guilty!” the judge cried. “Oliver Ross, you committed egregious acts of ecological damage, contributing to a global crime of terracide for which there can only be one punishment...”

  Addison’s breath caught in his throat.

  “The sentence is death.”

  Ross strained against his invisible restraints.

  “In keeping with the manner of your crimes, what you did to the planet shall be done unto you. Oliver Ross, you are hereby sentenced to heat death.”

  “No...” Addison whispered, realisation finally dawning.

  “Levellers!” One cried, raising a hand. “Justice!”

  As his hand fell, the hovering drone became a blur. Streaking through the air, it cannoned into Ross’ chest. Even across the courtroom Addison felt the impact, but instead of knocking Ross over the drone clung to him, its carapace cracking open to reveal glinting mechanical innards.

  “No!” Addison was shouting now.

  The mantis drone began to glow dark orange. Steam rose, and as cords sprang from his neck, Ross started to scream. It was a terrible sound, rising from a low howl to a shrill, animal shriek. He convulsed, eyes rolling back, before collapsing and falling still. The drone whirred, retracted its arms and clanged to the ground. In the silence that followed Addison gagged. The court smelled of seared meat.

  “Mr. Moore, take your seat,” One shouted.

  Addison was moving, walking dazedly towards the motionless Ross.

  “Stop!” Four cried. “Return to your mark!”

  She had her pistol out, but Addison was already by the defendant shaking him. He didn’t budge.

  “I said stop!”

  Slowly, Addison brought his hand to his face. Each finger was glinting crimson.

  “How?” he whispered.“How is this real?”

  Around him the levellers suddenly erupted into noise. They were arguing, shouting at each other. On the podium, the judge’s face flickered and once again Addison’s head exploded in pain.

  “...much for that!” Two was yelling, his genial demeanour gone. “He figured it out first bloody trial!”

  “Re-level him,” Four cried. “Re-level him now!”

  “We can’t!” Five shouted back. “The archive damage! He’s the only one left compatible with the interpreter. We need to wipe him, start afresh!”

  “So he can figure it out again?” Four yelled.

  Addison’s head was throbbing. As he lurched to his feet he saw Five moving towards him.

  “Addison, listen...” he pleaded, palms outstretched.

  “How?”Addison slurred, transfixed by his bloodied fingers. “How can this be happening?”

  “You must listen.”

  “What is happening!”

  Four lunged forwards, shoving Five aside.

  “On the ground!” she yelled, brandishing her pistol.

  “The interpreter hasn’t bedded in!” Five shouted. “Shock him and he might die.”

  Suddenly the two levellers were grappling, tussling for the pistol. Addison seized his moment and threw himself into the gallery benches. He rolled over and smashed into a camera, then cannoned into the aisle and sprinted for the doors.

  “Freeze!”

  Beside him a chunk of bench exploded, showering Addison in a hail of burning shrapnel. He screamed, staggered, but his momentum carried him forwards, down the aisle and through the double doors.

  He clattered face-first onto a stone floor. Looking up, he saw some kind of entrance hall, a huge vestibule with a distant ceiling. But he didn’t have time to look properly. Feet slipping on misty-grey stone, he scrambled up and across the hall into a long corridor. There was a flash of daylight to his left, so he turned and sprinted out into open air. Then he stopped, not believing his eyes.

  This wasn’t outside.

  This was inside.

  Addison was on a balcony overlooking a huge cavern, the inside of a vast hollow pyramid. Hundreds of feet across a yawning void, spiral ramps snaked up and down four walls that sloped upwards to the pyramid’s apex. There, a grey-white light shone in a pale mockery of daylight, while below each widening level plunged into inky blackness.

  “What…?” he began.

  A piece of wall by his head exploded.

  “Do not move!”

  Addison moved. As echoing footsteps closed in, he sprinted up a ramp. His legs screamed with the ascent, but he didn’t stop until he was at the top of the pyramid. The floor levelled out on a long balcony bathed in pale light. There was a single door at the end so Addison dashed inside. Eyes adjusting to the gloom he saw panels lining the walls, inscriptions etched into the same misty-grey material from the courtroom. They were faintly biological, spiralling strands weaving together like nerves or blood vessels.

  But he’d made a mistake.

  “Shit!”

  There was no other exit, no windows or doors save the one through which he’d entered. He whirled around, only to find his escape blocked.

  “Addison...!”

  Five was hunched in the doorway.

  “Stay back!” Addison cried.

  “Listen!” Five panted. “We don’t have much time.”

  “What is happening...”


  “It’s real Addison, all of it!”

  “I don’t understand!”

  “You’re in the future! We levelled you!”

  “What does that even mean!”

  Five cringed, hearing footsteps behind him.

  “You have to listen, the paladin is nearly recharged. They’re going to hurt you, but they can’t kill you. It’s their law, our law. They can’t kill you unless you're on trial, and they need an interpreter to have a trial. One to excuse, one to explain, one to accuse, one to proclaim. Defence, interpreter, prosecutor, judge, see? You just have to play along.”

  “That doesn’t make ––”

  “Just play along!”

  Another voice boomed into the room. “Returnee!”

  Judge One stood in the doorway, the drone beside him. As Two and Four came up behind, Five’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

  “You are wasting time,” the judge thundered. “It is fortunate we only had one defendant today.”

  “This can’t be real…” Addison whispered.

  “The vision chair will prove it is,” the judge replied, halting a few feet away. “But for now, perhaps a more analogue demonstration will suffice.”

  Addison lunged for the door, but Four tackled him to the ground.

  “Show him his legacy,” the judge said, as she dragged Addison upright.

  The room’s sloping walls began to slide down and blinding light poured in. Addison covered his eyes but Four seized him from behind, strong fingers forcing his eyelids open.

  “See,” she hissed into his ear. “See what you did.”

  Addison saw.

  He was at the top of a tower overlooking a vast plain. There was wreckage as far as the eye could see, twisted ruins of metal and concrete that stretched away to a horizon boiling with yellow-brown clouds. There was no greenery, no rivers, no animals, no life of any kind; just storm-blasted rock and dust-cracked nothingness. A howling wind lashed against the window, full of withering decay.

  “This is your legacy,” the judge said.

  Four smashed Addison’s head against the window.

  “I didn’t do anything!” he yelled, blinking back tears. “I’m just an actor!”

  Four spun Addison round and the shutters slammed shut, plunging the room into shadow.

  “Of course you did. It’s why we brought you back.”

  “How…?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” the judge said, his grinning face hovering in the gloom. “You are dead, Mr. Moore. You died centuries ago.”

  “No.”

  “We levelled you.”

  “No!”

  “You’ll see. Soon you’ll see everything.”

  Four’s expression brightened.

  “Now?” she asked.

  “We have delayed enough,” he replied. “To the chair.”

  “Don’t fucking touch me!” Addison screamed.

  The drone shot forwards, knocking him down. Doubling over, Addison’s vision swam and in the misty walls he suddenly thought he saw shapes, not-quite human shadows ebbing and receding in the grey. There was a thudding, a distant pounding, and he stretched out a hand, beckoning, pleading. Then Four’s pistol swung out of the darkness, and Addison saw nothing but black.

  – Chapter 2 –

  In The Blood

  First, a thudding: distant and muffled.

  “G’way,” Addison mumbled. “Lemme sleep.”

  Second, a buzzing: closer, unsettlingly familiar.

  “Sleep,” he groaned.

  Slowly, much too slowly, the crumbling city blocks of Addison’s brain flickered to life. Sensations clamoured at him, cold, discomfort, the sound of nearby voices. As he swam up towards the spangly brightness of day, one snapped into focus.

  “Awake, returnee,” the voice said. “Awake and see.”

  Addison’s eyes flew open.

  “Oh god, no,” he whispered. “No, no…”

  Everything flooded back. Four stood before him, teeth glinting like knives, and he was strapped into a chair, naked save for a thin metal sheet. The same misty grey walls surrounded him, but this was a smaller space: dark, claustrophobic, reeking of sweat. Behind him, something was gurgling unpleasantly.

  “Welcome to the vision chair,” Four said.

  “This can’t be happening,” Addison said, rocking against his restraints. “This can’t––”

  The buzzing leapt in volume and suddenly he was screaming. Blistering, searing pain ripped through his body and he thrashed, muscles spasming. Then, blessedly, it was over and he slumped back.

  “Please, interrupt me again,” Four said. “The paladin can maintain this indefinitely.”

  “I can’t,” Addison gasped, as the drone buzzed behind him. “I can’t––”

  Another crackle.

  More pain.

  An eternity of it.

  Addison wasn’t even screaming any more, just mouthing in silent agony. The pain was total, obliterating: everything else fell away. If he could have talked, he’d have said anything – done anything – to make it stop. It just had to stop. When the drone did finally release him, he felt something close to joy. He sighed, pitched forwards and vomited onto the floor.

  “We can continue,” Four said, grimacing and taking a step back. “Or you can comply.”

  “Careful,” came another voice. “His was the only compatible sample.”

  Five stood a few feet away watching nervously.

  “We tried it your way,” Four snapped. “My turn.”

  The woman’s eyes were wild and Addison had no doubt she would hurt him again. In fact, he got the distinct impression she was only warming up.

  “I’ll comply,” he croaked. “I’ll do anything.”

  Four looked almost disappointed.

  “Two will tell you the facts,” she replied. “Then the chair will show you the truth. Move, and there will be pain. Resist, and there will be more pain. Understand?”

  Addison nodded. The gurgling intensified and Two stepped around into the light.

  “Mr. Moore!” he began, his cheery tone suddenly more menacing than Four’s hostility. “You have been levelled. Do you understand?”

  Addison looked up helplessly.

  “The process has many names,” he sighed. “Geneweaving, psychotransubstantiation, haemosynaptic transfer, but ‘levelling’ is perhaps the most elegant. As you know, there are many levels of information in human DNA. Physical traits, behavioural quirks, the veritable anthology of genetic data that makes you, you, all encoded at a biological level. What you may not know however, is that consciousness is encoded too, in the final and most information-dense of these levels.”

  “Consciousness isn’t in your blood,” Addison whispered. “That’s insane.”

  “How quaint!” Two beamed. “The scholars of your time thought much the same, that consciousness all happened in the brain. In reality, it was more intertwined with genetics than they ever conceived. Here, we master that intertwining.”

  “Here?” Addison managed.

  “When the world still turned, this magnificent institute was dedicated to extracting, examining and preserving levelling samples. And deep in an archive, yours was waiting.”

  “My sample?”

  “Your blood.”

  Addison began to shiver.

  “What am I?” he breathed.

  “The closest analogy from your era is ‘clone,’” Two said, nose wrinkling. “But it is such a crude term. Cloning is for dilettantes, levelling is art. Extracting a person’s consciousness, their very soul from a single sample, it is the pinnacle of human achievement, the closest to godhood our species ever came.”

  Addison’s mind was spinning. “But I remember,” he whispered. “The casting call, the bus here...”

  “Alas, false memories. Five’s great folly.”

  “But why?”

  In the gloom, Five smiled sadly. “Because it was humane. I thought I could spare you the horrors of reality whilst also
completing our task. I was a fool.”

  “But why me? What’s special about me?”

  Five glanced at his colleagues. “The levelling archives are... damaged. The world is dying, our technology failing. We have one interpreter and it only works for certain blood groups. Of the samples we could access, you were the only candidate.”

  Four leant forwards, teeth shining. “That is why, guilty as you may be, you are not on trial.”

  “But I haven’t done anything!”

  “Of course you have!” Two smiled. “You just died before you could see the consequences. Now you will be held to account!”

  “No!” Addison shouted, shaking the chair. “No!”

  “He does not see,” Four said, standing back.

  “He will,” Two replied, the genial mask slipping.

  The pair moved behind the chair.

  “I’m sorry, Addison,” Five said. “I’m so sorry.”

  Behind him, the gurgling reached a fever pitch. Hands snaked to the base of Addison’s skull and twisted violently. But this time there was no pain.

  This time there was light.

  Addison saw.

  He saw everything.

  Images bloomed in his mind, more real and vivid than anything he’d ever known.

  He saw everything that had ever happened, recordings from a thousand artificial eyes – satellites, cameras, phones, screens, media he couldn’t even comprehend – all beamed directly into his brain. Hundreds of years of history unfolded in seconds: megacities swarming the earth, choking, smothering. Green spaces eroded, eaten away, bulldozed entirely. Temperatures rising, creeping at first, then soaring, unstoppable...

  Except, also, entirely stoppable.

  He saw a scattered few conceive of the calamity, sound the alarm, plead with the world to stop, to change, but then he saw these prophets steamrollered, discredited and mocked. Worse, he saw others hear the message, understand it, grasp its ramifications, and... do nothing. What came next was inevitable. Addison saw ice caps vanish, rising oceans swallow nations, toxic rain bleach continents white, storms level entire cities and swarms of refugees fleeing the wreckage. He also saw the bitter, brutal wars fought in their wake: superpowers fighting over dwindling resources, famine, disease, a death toll in the billions...