Part One. Atoms Of Consciousness

  Our mission is not to improve people, for we do not compete with Allah in this endeavor. Rather, our mission is to help people realize their inherent perfection.

  The modifications to the human body developed at Labsetek serve to amplify the extraordinary capabilities of the human mind that controls this body. These enhancements underscore the remarkable nature of human consciousness and its potential.

  — From the Labsetek Corporation Brand Book

  Even during training, few people referred to the synthesan's emergence into the world as a "birth." Everyone used the term "arrival."

  But the real arrival was very different from what students practiced in virtual reality, as Ron Cooper now realized. Arrival was like coming out of a dream, but accompanied by panic and an overwhelming urge to bang his forehead against the wall.

  "The panic will be so intense that you will shit your pants," warned the mentor at the colonist training center. "It's crucial at this point to remember who you are and why you've come. Also, know that you'll never shit again. The synthesans are your new bodies—waste-free biorobots."

  — Arrival complete —

  Virtual buffer activated

  Estimated time to cast through the wormhole: 1,147,560 hours (131 years). Forwarding time of object "Ron Cooper (#2,456,777)" in normal parameters. Local date and time will be obtained after synchronization with the BATS server at the point of arrival.

  Ron Cooper remembered perfectly well who he was and why he had come to the planet Locus, but his mentor's warning was far from an empty threat. According to statistics (which no one could verify anyway), it was the post-arrival panic state that often led to the loss of integrity in the newcomer's consciousness binary array.

  The panic should subside—or so the mentor had promised. But like the statistics, his assurances couldn't be verified on Earth.

  All this time, Ron was enveloped in blackness. Then a faint blue light appeared, and atop this murky glow came the data.

  — Attention —

  The period of presence for the binary array "Ron Cooper (#2,456,777)" in the virtual buffer is limited. After the inactivity period ends, an automatic transition to the body will begin. Body parameters will be set according to template settings. Remaining: 1,134 seconds to auto-transition.

  The integrity of the "Ron Cooper" binary array is 99.4%.

  At nearly 100%, Ron's integrity was excellent, especially considering that the average integrity for wormhole transport was only 97% (according to unverifiable Earth statistics). A 3% loss might not seem significant, but knowing that every fraction of a percent represented a part of your personality made it unsettling. One couldn't help but wonder: what was in those lost percentages? What if there was something crucial that made you who you were? The panic only intensified these thoughts.

  The virtual buffer was where the binary array of human consciousness "came to life" after the capsule's transport through the wormhole to one of the Explora project planets.

  The mentor had called the buffer "purgatory," adding, "Only you'll linger there not to be cleansed of sins, but to receive an artificial body and continue sinning on another planet."

  The mentor was a devout Catholic, which irritated Jeanne Chou, an atheist and fellow project participant. Jeanne had complained about "religious propaganda," but the management of the colonist training center replied that the mentor's behavior was within the "correct norm."

  Now Jeanne, likely as eager as the others to create her new body, was in the same capsule as Ron.

  BATS activation complete. Interface language: default: English.

  Starting synthesan configuration mode... 3... 2... 1...

  The data flashed in Ron's mind as if they were his own thoughts. Then, the familiar training screen saver played. A woman's voice announced:

  "Labsetec Corporation welcomes you to the planet Locus and reminds you that your consciousness is always where its atoms are."

  After that, there were no more voices. Only interface messages imprinted themselves in the thought stream, weaving into an internal monologue.

  Among them, an alarm alert flashed:

  — !!! —

  Transfer capsule condition unsatisfactory!

  Warning: Organic material tank damaged!

  Organic material detected: 43,564 units.

  The number decreased rapidly, indicating an ongoing leak.

  — Attention —

  Left side maneuvering engine damaged. Threat of power line crystallization. Fuel supply to left-board engine stopped.

  'Did the capsule really get damaged on landing?' Ron thought. 'I wonder how my companions are doing. Haven't they entered their bodies yet?'

  Ron grew agitated. There had been exactly fifty thousand units of orgmat in the tank—ten thousand for each synthesan, plus another ten thousand for emergencies. So none of the four colonists had emerged yet? In a few seconds, the amount of orgmat would drop below forty thousand, meaning someone would run out!

  "And it certainly won't be me!" Ron declared, calling up the interface to create his future body.

  Ron selected "Create Body," nothing complicated, just like in training. They had rehearsed the catastrophic arrival as well.

  The first task was to select the attributes of the synthesan. Initially, these were all set to one, but it was possible to customize the attributes for future tasks. For this purpose, four additional units were provided, which needed to be distributed among the attributes.

  It was reminiscent of creating a character in a game, as the interface was developed based on the game mechanics from Adam Online. However, there was a key difference - attribute points could not be saved for later distribution, nor could they be obtained in any way once the body was created. Further improvements to the synthesan's attributes would occur only through the process of being alive.

  "That's all because," the mentor explained, "there aren't really any attribute points. You are offered a simplified customization of the body through numbers you understand. In reality, a synthesan's attributes are a complex set of interactions of molecular pseudo-structures in the material that makes up its body. So remember, there are billions of complex calculations behind these simple numbers."

  Ron distributed the available points as follows:

  Ron Cooper

  — Colonial Construction Engineer —

  Shell Integrity: 1,000 / 1,000

  Orgmat: 6,000 / 6,000

  Binary array integrity: 99.3%

  Strength: 2

  Dexterity: 1

  Data Processing: 1

  Vitality: 1

  Perception: 2

  Touch: 2

  Sight: 2

  Hearing: 1

  Ron regretfully noted the diminished integrity of the array after incarnation. Such was the side effect - rebirth reduced the integrity of the personality. Each rewrite of the binary array into a new body resulted in a loss of information in the array.

  "The eternal problem of balance," Ron remembered his mentor's words. "The more advanced your synthesan's body becomes, the less of your original self remains within it."

  After confirming these attributes, Ron opened the list of available features, the so-called "phenoms" - an acronym for "the phenomenal abilities of synthetic bodies." Initially, five phenoms were available, but only two could be established. More phenoms could be acquired by the synthesan body after increasing attributes.

  At first, Ron chose:

  — Phenom "Sex" —

  Manufacturer: Labsetec

  Intercourse Duration: 43 seconds

  Orgmate consumption: 50 units per second of use

  Recovery period: 12 hours

  Confirmation with a phenom?

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Sex for less than a minute is humiliating," Ron thought. "No matter, after improving the necessary attributes, I'll increase the duration."

  When selecting a body, one could choose the sex of the synthesan. This only affected its appearance and body shape. There were no significant qualitative differences between "female," "male," and "other" genders - a true celebration of gender equality.

  In lectures at the colonist training center, they advised young students to be sure to include a sex phenom, explaining it was for psychological comfort.

  "It's those who will be defenders or scouts who cherish every phenom," laughed the mentor. "Instead of sex, a fighter will favor improving Strength or Dexterity. You civilians don't give a shit."

  — Phenom "Builder" —

  Manufacturer: China Binary

  +2 to Data Processing

  -1 to Strength

  Orgmat consumption: 2.2 units per second of use

  Buildbots in control: 1

  Buildbots available: 0

  Did you know that increasing certain attributes opens up new abilities of Phenoms?

  Construction robots - or "buildbots" - are the main assistant to the colonial engineer. The more buildbots he has at his command, the more complex the structures he is able to create. To get more buildbots under control, one needs to develop the "Data Processing" attribute.

  When creating a body, you can also choose the appearance, but it's a lengthy procedure, and time was running out. Ron had no time to play with eye color settings, skin color, or penis shape. Without these settings, the synthesan's appearance took on the appearance of the original, that is, the person from whom the copy of the consciousness had been taken. Of course, there was a difference in that the body had the standard settings for muscles and bones. All the changes were purely cosmetic.

  When the body was ready, there were just over twenty thousand units of orgmat left. Minus one more human... that is, synthesan.

  Initiate the incarnation procedure?

  Ron confirmed the transfer of his binary array into the synthetic organism. Someone poetically called this procedure "incarnation."

  …

  He had arrived in the new world for the second time, but now he felt like he was floating in a thick, viscous liquid. His vision was blurred by dissociation, and his lungs craved air.

  Now he could see—with his own eyes!—the murky blue of the solution and glimpses of the indicators on the capsule's control panel.

  Ron frantically jerked his arms and legs, hitting the glass of the flask in which he was floating. He even—finally!—managed to bump his head.

  Now he felt the pain.

  He beat his knees and elbows frantically on the thick glass of the flask. It wasn't the same pain he'd felt when he was human. It was sharp for the first few seconds, but quickly faded. Each blow was accompanied by interface messages indicating that the synthesan's body had sustained some damage.

  Finally, Ron stopped fluttering and tried to relax, floating in the thick blue darkness. He remembered that the synthesan body didn't need as much air as a human body.

  He heard a muffled metallic clanking sound. A maelstrom formed in the liquid surrounding his body, picking Ron up and carrying him forward.

  A second later he found himself lying on the cold iron floor. The spent dissociative electrolyte seeped through the holes in its surface.

  Steam wafted from the freshly baked body. Ron jumped to his feet and coughed, the remnants of the dissociative spilling out of his mouth.

  "Welcome home!" Ron said loudly, testing his new voice, and looked around.

  The capsule transporting the settlers through the wormhole was a rectangular container. At its rear lay the engine compartment, allowing for maneuvering after wormhole exit and planetary descent.

  Inside, the capsule resembled a massive freight car filled with containers and crates. The ceiling hung so low that Ron could nearly brush it with his bald head.

  Ron ran his palm across his scalp. "Ah, damn it! I forgot about the hair!"

  Along one long wall stood four tall flasks—the AKOS (Automated Kit for Organic Synthesis). These apparatuses created the colonists' bodies, restored synthesans after rebirth, and assisted in installing new phenoms.

  Ron's flask stood open, flashing a yellow indicator. In the second, a hazy human outline was visible. Jeanne was about to make her appearance.

  He approached and tapped his finger on the glass of one flask. "It's strange, colleagues, that you haven't emerged for so long. Can't you see the orgmat is running out?"

  Ron moved to the locker and selected his Universal Coveralls, or UniCom. This complex set of colonist equipment consisted of six separate parts: helmet, torso, two legs, and two arms.

  Combat UniComs were more intricate, with the helmet divided into "head" and "neck" sections, separate parts for hands and feet, and a two-piece torso. In total, they comprised twelve parts. Combat UniCom provided greater attribute bonuses. However, it also consumed more orgmat.

  All UniComs resembled spacesuits, offering extra protection to the synthesan body, though this wasn't their primary purpose. Each UniCom part was an independent device connecting to the appropriate synthesan body connector, providing the wearer with new capabilities.

  Ron donned the helmet first, feeling a slight prick in his neck as it connected. The body, arms, and legs attached similarly.

  A hiss of compressed air and metallic clanking preceded the opening of one synthesan apparatus flask. Viscous blue liquid gushed onto the floor as a naked female form tumbled out.

  Ron approached and helped her to her feet. "Welcome home, colleague," he said.

  Spitting out the remaining blue liquid, she mumbled, "And you."

  Ron appraised her body. "Now I see why it took you so long to incarnate. Did you take time to perfect your appearance?"

  Jeanne brushed clumped strands of short white hair from her forehead. "What happened? Why is the orgmat missing?"

  Ron checked the onboard computer's project-screen. Indeed, all orgmat had been depleted synthesizing Jeanne's body. The other two colonists couldn't incarnate; their flasks stood empty, blinking red indicators.

  "The reservoir is damaged," Ron explained, examining the capsule's plating through an outer chamber. "Strangely, the damage doesn't resemble typical landing impact."

  Jeanne turned towards the UniCom locker, revealing two blue dots on her spine—indicators of installed phenoms. Ron's gaze lingered. "I admire your aesthetic choices, old girl. Especially from behind."

  "You should have worked on yours, my boy. Particularly in front," Jeanne retorted. "Has anyone ever mentioned your real looks aren't exactly flattering?"

  "You've said it a few times. Try for something wittier."

  As Jeanne donned her combat UniCom, Ron returned to the computer panel. "I wonder why we had time to create bodies while our companions didn't."

  "What's the mystery?" Jeanne asked, fastening the "chest" and "back" halves of her UniCom. "Given the orgmat shortage, the system prioritized embodying the development engineer—you—to establish a base and farms for orgmat production. I was created secondarily for engineer protection. Standard emergency protocol."

  Jeanne secured the last piece, her helmet. Its visor reflected Ron and the capsule walls, concealing her artificial face with its large blue eyes and upturned nose—features bearing no resemblance to the old Jeanne.

  She tapped the back of her head, ensuring a firm connection between the helmet and her neck connector. "Besides," she added, "we can't stand each other—a perfect match."

  Jeanne pulled a long-barreled, smoothbore rifle from her locker. She turned it on and waited for the weapon to connect to the interface. She put ammunition in the special slots of the UniCom and added five grenades to her belt. She completed her outfit with a pistol, slipping it into a special slot on her hip.

  She tossed the second pistol to Ron.

  "Try not to shoot until your Sight is at least a three," she warned. "You're bound to shoot yourself in the leg, and we don't have the extra orgmat to treat you."

  The interface reacted to the weapon in Ron's hand with a description from the gun itself.

  — The colonist's assistant —

  Energy weapon

  Manufacturer: Labsetec.

  Magazine: 30 energy rounds.

  UniCom Connect: 1 connector (arm).

  Warning, your UniCom does not have a connector for this type of device. You cannot use its advanced features."

  Ron attached the weapon to his belt, where the engineer's tools should be attached.

  "How long will it take you to line up?" Jeanne asked. "We need farms to grow orgmat."

  "Farms are a long way off," Ron replied. "They are built last, when all the infrastructure is in place. We need to build the power unit first... and then the rest of the dozens and hundreds of backyards, like production halls, converters, or warehouses. And that takes a lot of resources. What we brought in is only enough for the base buildings."

  "I see. Do you need a scout to pick a place to build?"

  "Yes. But I'm counting on the help of other colonists, though we don't know where we've landed yet. In fact, construction will take a little longer than usual. I've got one buildbot in command for the time being."

  "Why one?" Jeanne interrupted. "What did you spend the second phenom on?"

  Ron hesitated. "Sex. I spent it on sex."

  "Who are you going to have sex with? Buildbots?"

  "Colleague, why are you acting like we're on a battlefield? We're on a peaceful planet where we're going to build and develop civilization in peace."

  "Do you hear—"

  But Ron waved it away. "What's more, all your fighting skills may not be needed. Those colonists who arrived earlier have long ago cleared out the local fauna. There will be no wild animal attacks, no aliens. You're the one who'll have to swap your military phenoms for peaceful ones."

  "Hey, you!"

  "We were trained to survive together, but we don't have to be together. We can share the pod's resources and build our own bases. Except then you'd have to swap your phenoms for useful ones."

  "Shut up, asshole! You hear me?"

  Ron stopped talking. He heard someone scratching insistently from the side of the airlock. Jeanne's hearing was more enhanced, or she had the appropriate UniCom upgrades, so she'd heard those rustles earlier.

  Ron called up the camera controls on the pod on the project-screen. At the same time, he launched the exploration drone. After that, the engineer displayed the image from the cameras on the project-screen. The wind noise of the planet Locus rumbled in the speakers...

  Standing in front of the airlock doors were two men wearing UniComs of unfamiliar design. Their arms were covered with beads and colored headbands. One of them had shoulder pads with rusty spikes attached to his shoulders. The other had metal horns gleaming on the sides of his helmet. It was noticeable that they had lovingly tuned their costumes with decorative elements.

  Both strangers were examining the airlock opening mechanism.

  "Don't worry," Ron said to Jeanne. "Although there is a lock on the outside, they won't be able to pick the code."

  "I'm not worried," Jeanne replied and flipped the safety lever on her rifle. "Let them worry."

  The reconnaissance drone rose quickly above the ship, revealing scorched grass, fallen trees, and blasted earth. In the center of the crater lay a capsule. It was shaped like a rectangular box of energy cartridges.

  From the height, it was clearly visible that the left side of the capsule had been disintegrated by the shell. A puddle of orgmat shone near the hole like blue blood. Far from the capsule stood two tracked armored trucks that bore the features of the standard Ford-Explore transports that had been used to supply previous batches of colonist capsules. One truck carried a missile launcher.

  The drone didn't have time to get any higher; the speakers crackled and the image faded.

  "It was shot down by those assholes," Jeanne hissed. "What, engineer, are you still sure we're on a peaceful planet?"

  "But... it's strange..." Ron muttered. "Locus is the first exoplanet to be developed. There's been a civilization here for years. A highly advanced civilization, not bandits in rusty armored cars. Almost a million synthesans."

  "Civilizations come in many forms, my boy."

  Back there on Earth, Jeanne was sixty-three years old, and Ron Cooper was nineteen. In Jeanne's opinion, this allowed her to look down on him. However, she looked down on everyone. Even her mentor, who was older than her.

  Meanwhile, a third man joined the two men near the airlock, carrying a long sniper rifle on his shoulder. His UniCom, by the way, was unadorned. Lifting the mirrored visor of his helmet, the sniper looked up at the camera:

  "Well, what's up, aliens? Open up! Let the welcoming committee of natives in."

  "Aye," laughed another. "We'll take you to our leader."

  The sniper had the typical smooth and handsome face of a synthesan, adorned with an elaborate shapely beard that a real human would never grow. The curls of the beard framed his cheeks in a pattern, and on his chin they branched out like tentacles.

  "Seriously, dudes, you do realize that resistance is futile," the bearded man continued. "And forgive us in advance, it's not our fault."

  Ron touched the project-screen, highlighting the bearded man's face, and set a search on the colonists' database. But the system returned a response that no matches were found.

  "He's changed his face a hundred times," Jeanne said. "It will be possible to identify him only after receiving information from the shell of his synthesan. To do that, you need to be three meters away from him."

  "Well?" the bearded man asked. "Are you going to remain silent like that?"

  "And what if there is no one there?" said the horned man. "I mean, we breached their orgmat tank... What if none of them incarnated?"

  The bearded man nodded. "Maybe... I bet Ramirez is going tear us a new one with his psychobabble."

  "He certainly will," the horned man sighed sadly.

  The third of the attackers, the one with the spikes on his shoulders, silently pulled a standard plasma cutter from behind his back. He turned it on and leaned it against the capsule's airlock.

  Ron and Jeanne saw a red-hot spot appear on the airlock flaps and grow rapidly.