Free Power in the Hands of One by Ian Lewis Page B

Ray and Worthington fell prey to. He no longer seems dangerous, only absurd. I retract my aim and draw back several steps.
    The other pilot cackles over the speakers. “Not willing to get your hands dirty, eh? Too self-righteous? That’s OK; I appreciate your show of diplomacy. I’ll live to fight another day.”
    Turning, I ignore his comments as I walk away from the disabled mass of metal.
    “Don’t believe me? You’ll see in time. It will start as ‘human enhancement.’ Biochemistry and nanotechnology will push us past the threshold of disease and defect.” The pilot is nearly shouting, as if to be heard while I’m walking away. “Then there will be integration with machines on the biological level, granting immediate access to global data and information stores. Your information becomes mine, and my information becomes yours. We’ll realize exponential returns, and we’ll soon surpass the need for bodies at all. Don’t you get it? A collective mind with no death.”
    The ranting is ludicrous. I’ve got to find a way to block his communication. His vision of the world isn’t the least bit desirable; I don’t know how anyone could think it is.
    Fiddling with the menus, I walk myself through another self-directed tutorial. I’ve figured everything else out, so why not this?
    My confidence careens off a cliff when the menus die. The blackened cockpit, a pause, and the glower of Thomas Worthington disheartens whatever shred of motivation I have left.
    “Consider what road you travel,” he says, stern face poised as if contemplating something philosophical. “One leads away from the struggle, but it has no point. Turn and retrace your steps and you have no choice but to fulfill what some men might call destiny.
    “You no doubt understand that destiny is a terrifying word. It implies your purpose, your reason, is somehow mapped out before you. It has nothing to do with good fortune, only obligation. But know this—destiny is your choice; it is the sum of all choice, what mankind wills into being with every breath. The fate you discard will be a mantle assumed by another.”
    Exhaustion droops my shoulders; I close my eyes and clamor at the edge of raw, blistered patience. “I don’t have it in me to interpret your riddles.”
    Worthington ignores me, or the recording continues; I can’t decide. “Your brother’s will is not pure; he has become your enemy. He claims to champion humanity, but he doesn’t represent them. He has faltered in his attempts to change the face of the world. You cannot allow him to continue on his misguided path; you must destroy him.”
    I lean forward. “You want me to kill him? Are you out of your mind?”
    “Destroy him!” Worthington disappears, once again leaving me without answers.
    Behind me, the other pilot is struggling to get his machine on its feet. His audible exertion seems distant over the communication link.
    A block away, I turn to face him, weary. I don’t know if I can hold out for another brawl. The cannon is still online, but how many times can I shoot him before he won’t survive? I’m not out to kill anyone—and it seems as though that would play directly into Worthington’s plans.
    I appeal to reason. “Listen, man. Why not give it up? Neither of us are getting anywhere with this.”
    The pilot doesn’t respond; he only continues his menacing advance. Did he receive a message from Worthington too? Has he been instructed to kill me?
    “C’mon now,” I say while backing up. “Think this through. It doesn’t have to go down this way.”
    Still no response. The expressionless visage bores into me with silent concentration, mirroring the dead air over the radio. There’s no pity, no mercy in its relentless face…only the cold, marching advancement of techno-death.
    A darkening horizon frames the menacing figure as an early-morning storm rolls into view. The sky starts to spit, and I know this will all be over soon.

19
    Shifting my weight is