The Nature of Predators

Memory Transcription Subject: Elias Meier, Former UN Secretary-General

Date [standardized human time]: February 10, 2161

With the pressure off of my shoulders, tied only to an advisory capacity for Secretary-General Osmani, I found myself living in 2136 in my head. The fate of the SC no longer rode on my actions, so I could afford to contemplate a past which felt more real than any of this. I remembered my first time boarding a spaceship for an alien world, the raw power of the engines shaking the seats as we achieved lift-off from Earth. My life had been so consumed by worldly problems and making things better on that small blue sphere of ours. To see it below had been an experience like no other. How the extermination fleet could’ve looked down on it and not been moved by its beauty, thinking it just an ugly vessel that needed cleansing.

Those memories were not mine. They were implanted into my memory banks to make it seem real, but I had not experienced them. We were not the same consciousness, and while I carried Meier’s traits and proclivities, that was the truth of it. How was it fair that I recalled what it was to weep, to tear into a juicy burger, and inhale the scent of the vanilla candles I kept on my desk, yet could never have that experience? I imagined what the Federation would’ve thought of that last item, laughing to myself. A primitive illumination device, and why aromatic herbs would appeal to a predator’s blood-drawn nose—we confused them so much.

I almost feel more at home dealing with the Shield and the Federation remnants, since I’d grown used to that being how aliens are. I was the scariest of them all in their heads, as the human leader; they thought me a ferocious monster, foaming at the mouth. Not me. I’ve stolen Elias’ memory and identity, really, and I’ve figured that out with his cognition.

When the UNS Odyssey tested its FTL engines, Elias had been proud of what humanity might accomplish, though this all wasn’t even a dream in his subconscious. Mind you, he was never a big space aficionado, but I knew that he thought it would be nice to have a backup plan…in case we should destroy our temperate Earth. The question was, what did I think of the mission looking back? Had it been worth holding onto our optimism, when it meant enduring the wars and losses that assailed us over these past two decades? I wanted to believe that this was all worth it for the good the SC could do, but I would not exist if Noah and Sara hadn’t found the Venlil. Elias would’ve lived a fuller, calmer life without all of those tumultuous feelings he endured in his final days, in the time and body that his mind belonged in.

I felt sorry for the poor guy. He had a great deal of compassion for humanity, and died not knowing if his species would survive. In those last moments, he had thought it all worth it. I had the unique perspective of my lifespan to challenge that viewpoint. While I’d been enamored by the idea of the Sapient Coalition when I first learned of humanity’s status, I’d had to chew them all out over their injustices and lingering biases. With the technology that molded me, the future could be more stagnant than ever; Osmani’s generation might be the last one that got the torch handed to him. People would chase the dream of immortality, not realizing that the reality was being little more than a copy who foolishly believed itself to be the original.

There was a knock on the door to my quarters, and I put on a smile as Osmani poked his head in. “Elias, excellent work sealing the Krev treaty. I’m glad we put those drones to better use, though we’ll have to keep a close eye on them.”

“You really think General Radai won’t shift the targets as we agreed upon? This is the only way his government gets a peace that doesn’t involve immediate and total disarmament,” I remarked.

“Sure, the Krev Consortium pivoted away from fighting humanity and its circle, and I don’t find them disingenuous in that regard. There are shady elements within their leadership, even at a cursory glance. I expect Radai to keep his word, but you can never be certain of anyone’s intent. Trust but verify.”

“Better safe than sorry. I suppose you want me to join the assembly as our ships arrive at Grenelka?”

“Your absence is a little conspicuous, but I can craft an excuse if you don’t want to join us. You earned a rest. It’s a shame ‘food poisoning’ can’t be used for you. I would like you to be there when General Jones visits my office after the battle, and we inform her that she’s been removed from her position.”

“The old bat hasn’t seen it coming? Ha, I would love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. Her defense for herself will be something to hear.”

“It’s painfully obvious that you’re not Jones’ biggest fan. People like her are a necessary evil, but they shouldn’t exceed their station…or take gambles that can blow up in all of our faces.”

I wondered what Virnt thought now, reading all of this. The Tilfish scientist visited for an occasional check-in, but I was increasingly disgruntled by the fact that he could read my every waking thought at will. This life should be mine to live, if I was to be considered a person at all; after this many months, it couldn’t be necessary to check my sanity. As if it wasn’t unfair enough what Terra Technologies did to me. That kind of monitoring—the Sapient Coalition and the United Nations should make laws against it, assuming this technology was moving forward. Privacy being dead was the exact shady element Osmani referenced in the Consortium.

I remember the horrifying possibilities Gress had spouted out, when he insisted that the Krev were making clandestine usage of mind uploading. There was no proof of that, but if they have more advanced brain scanners than us, creating persons like me should be within their grasp too. If they haven’t already, they will.

“Yes, we have to uphold a higher standard to the Sapient Coalition. There are too many eyes on us.” I stared at the skin on my hands, remembering how I’d wanted to see the wires underneath after my reanimation. The thought panicked me less now, though I still wondered who the fuck I was. Whatever my friends had told me, I rejected being called Elias. “Sir, if I might ask you about a matter of personal concern?”

Osmani held out his hands in a sweeping gesture. “Go on.”

“What are your thoughts on my…situation?”

The Secretary-General narrowed his eyebrows, a puzzled glint in his eyes, as he paused for several seconds. “Being a synthetic being? What of it? I told you I wanted you to help me write in safety guidelines, and that the implications worried me. I respect your wisdom and what you did during a trying time in Earth’s history.”

“That’s the thing. I did none of that. I only remember doing it, but everyone around me insists that I’m the same Elias. Perhaps because they want me to be.”

“I…think you still carry all of Elias’ wisdom, but that you’ve been molded like a perfect replica. Every likeness has been copied, but you are not the original. You persist in the world in Meier’s image, and carry on his hopes and dreams, but your experiences are unique. They diverged from that starting template.”

“That sounds like a fair assessment,” I mumbled. “My consciousness tells me I’m him, but I’m really not. Maybe I owed Elias that service at one point, but it’s time I find my own hopes and dreams. I shouldn’t ruin his memory by being an impostor. You all look at him as a hero, though I know he wasn’t…his guilt and his regrets. Those were his private thoughts, no one else’s.”

Osmani’s eyes grew troubled. “You’re distancing yourself from that life, as if you want his memories out of your head. I’m not sure they could do that. What are you saying?”

“I still want to help you, Mr. Secretary-General; I do care. I know I’d have no personality without him, and…he’s a good man to emulate. What I want is to make my own life, without being tied to that perfect ideal and that past. I’m ready to let go of the idea that there’s any part of me that’s truly Elias.”

“No one has the right to govern your identity but you. You have to live in your own body, not the others. We are who we believe ourselves to be in our souls, not what anyone else tells us we are. If it was the latter, humanity is just a bunch of rabid predators, right?”

I laughed. “Never tell them about rabies. ‘The Hunger’ was real all along! They hear of humans frothing at the mouth and biting people from a disease, and it’s over.”

“An entirely preventable disease, but yes. At any rate, I must get going. You’re welcome to join us out by the UN’s table, though regardless of your attendance there, I imagine I’ll see you in my office afterward. Taking the Yulpa out would be a good start for dismantling the Fed remnants, so let’s hope we’ll be riding the high of that victory then.”

“I want to see us swooping in to save the Arxur this time; it’ll be curious to have the tables turned on history’s usual script. I’ll follow you out there, sir.”

“Call me Hamza, at least in private. No need for formalities.”

I dipped my head in acknowledgment and followed the new Terran leader through the winding hallways of the station. It was my understanding that we’d allowed the Tellish and Krev liaisons to go on a little escapade to Earth, both for their own benefit and so that they wouldn’t have direct eyes on our military operations. While we were all working together against the Remnants, there wasn’t much trust in the Consortium. The last thing we needed was a repeat of Aafa, with short-sighted fools attacking the Arxur to continue waging their war. At the very least, the Yulpa were much less formidable foes than the KC; they still used manned ships.

As much as I wish we could help the Jaslips more, the last thing we need is to be in a two-front war. We need to dismantle the Federation’s successor before we decide whether the KC needs a drastic, forceable overhaul. The Sapient Coalition can’t throw up our hands and turn a blind eye again, long-term, if they’re as bad as Gress believes.

I scanned the crowd, gauging how the SC representatives felt about our assault on Grenelka; from the few expressions I could see, the overwhelming sentiment was that this was long overdue, especially given how off the rails the Yulpa were. I shuddered to think of them sacrificing humans to their gods. Whatever I felt about Elias, humanity was still my species. I shared all of their thoughts, and every last section of their mind; their perception of the world and mental pathways operated on the same plane as my own. I remembered enough of what it was to be like them, with needs, pain, and exhaustion, that it didn’t feel like a foreign concept.

My binocular eyes swept upward to the Bissem balcony, and a smile crossed my face as I saw none other than Doctor Tassi back among her people’s delegation. It was soul-affirming to see the first contact scientist returning to our cause, not giving up on our organization. We were going to shake things up around here for our own purposes. I decided that I should venture up to share the good news; Tassi needed to know that I’d kept my promises. I’d gotten the vote for the end of the piscivores’ trial period on the docket, along with the referendum on lifting Talsk and Aafa’s quarantine. In addition, Osmani had the authority to give Jones a pink slip, which I was sure the scientist would be pleased to hear.

“Excuse me, Hamza. There’s someone I have to say hello to, before I join you,” I remarked, shuffling off toward the Bissems’ seating area.

As human ships were on the cusp of breaking in to deal with the troublesome Yulpa, and show the Arxur some support at long last, I turned to show my support to another ally that I thought had deserved better. The last thing I’d wanted was to see Dr. Tassi go the way of Kuemper, becoming jaded and giving up on this organization. This was the reminder of why it was worth maintaining my optimism, even with the gargantuan task of fixing the SC’s ills. This wasn’t just the time for me to step away from Elias Meier’s legacy, but for the Sapient Coalition to rewrite its own history and effects.