Whispers of the Diamond: A Romance of Memory and Desire

Chapter 1 - Alex

My name is Alexander Oliviera, and the world I live in is very different from the one you now live in. I'm in 2183, and the world has changed—in fact, it ended, twice. But we humans are a resilient bunch and somehow managed not to wipe ourselves out. You'd think we'd learn; we didn't. In fact, if anything, things have gotten worse. For me, the world is dark, gloomy, and dangerous.

I'm what we call a Hunter, which means it's my job to hunt down the worst kinds of criminals and make sure they either end up back in the High Security Prisons or... I make sure they stop existing altogether. There is no middle ground; once convicted, you owe the state your life, and until that debt is worked off, you belong to them. It's a well-paying job. I've been stabbed, shot, shot at, and run off more roads than I care to admit. It's a dangerous line of work, but the insurance premium alone is worth it.

When I said the insurance is worth it, I didn't mean financially. In the middle of the last century, a new technology was invented as technology shifted from conventional media to crystal. They discovered that crystal can store insane amounts of data, to the point where it became possible to save the entire contents of a person's mind, map that data, and then rewrite it back to an empty brain. These brains are created by cloning the subject's body. The technology is heavily controlled, and I'm fortunate enough to be on the very small list of those who have access to it. At last count, I had just turned 113 and had also died a dozen times, so you can see the peril of my work.

I try to be as fair as I can. I'm fortunate, and I'm well aware of that fact. I do my research to ensure my targets are indeed worthy of whatever assignment I'm given, and if I'm not happy with the law's reasons, I don't take the job. There are those who don't like the way I operate, but frankly, they can kiss my ass. We are independent contractors, so we realistically answer to no one. Some Hunters work in pairs; I hate life, I always have. I never agreed to be brought back, but I'm good at my job, so that choice is removed. After all, you can't consent if you're dead, right?

So why do I do what I do? Surely if I just stopped hunting, they'd let me die? I tried that once; they brought me back anyway, reminding me that I too owe the state a debt. I was born at the end of the last great war, though it wasn't a war as you know it. It was a technological one. An errant AI sent all its AI brethren out to murder every human it could. You see, we gave AI far too much power, and one became self-aware. They managed to wipe out a third of humanity and left the world scarred so deeply that we should have abandoned technology altogether. We didn't. There are laws now to ensure AI doesn't progress too far. Ironically, a scientist named Tobias Fleet was able to create a virus that shut down the rogue AI long enough for a last-ditch military strike on its home base. It tried to save itself, but the strike hit first. Humans were just lucky. However, in its attempt to save itself, it gave humanity a way to save itself from the very thing it fears most. That was the first step toward conscious transference technology. Four years later, the first successful human trial took place. Arthur Foster, a grade-A dick—I hate the guy—but he owns the justice system, and so he and I have more encounters than I'd like.

Alas, I digress. You wanted to know why I'm still allowing these people to manipulate me. The truth is, I had a semi-nice life. I worked in customer service, fast food to be exact. Not nearly as glamorous, right? But it gives you an insight into just how stupid people truly are. I learned to read people. I knew most orders before they ever opened their mouths, and as a result, I had the most efficient service in the entire chain. It took a couple of years, but I was good at my job.

I also had a girlfriend—beautiful, smart, adorable in every way that would ever matter. Her name was Terra. But she involved herself with people she shouldn't have, and it got her killed. In return, I killed the people who killed her. I should have been executed, but Dr. Fleet thought I'd better serve the transcontinental government by becoming a Hunter. Foster agreed, and just hours later, I was given my first assignment. I returned him to jail 48 hours later. Like I said, people are stupid, and Conrad and Terra had holed themselves up in an abandoned railway tunnel. I'd arrested them and taken them in.

I sighed as I stared at the screen, my eyes scanning the latest set of criminals on the wanted list. I wasn't even really paying attention; I didn't need to work, I just hated doing nothing. The smell of metal in the air was strong tonight, but that was our world. Almost every building contained some metallic compound in this day and age. The world was as dystopian as you could imagine—a world of chrome and glass, except it wasn't actually chrome. Old-fashioned brick was only ever used in richer cities, and the regular folk were crammed into tiny high-rises and dilapidated overstore flats. I had a flat in the center of town, and I could literally touch the building across from me. The road ran underneath, as they had built up and out to save space.

Wait. I stopped, scrolling back as my eyes landed on the name Terra Forsythe. My eyes stared at the screen. How? That same fiery red hair, those deeply challenging hazel eyes, that same infectious smile. This wasn't possible. Terra had been killed almost... I had to think. I was in my early thirties, which meant it had taken a while to track her killers down, but it had all been at least five decades since her death. This wasn't possible. And worse, she'd landed on my desk.

I sighed and tapped the file. She was wanted for multiple bombings and assassinations. My brain reeled at this as I stared; her crimes stretched back as long as my employment as a Hunter, which would mean... Terra had access to transference tech.

I swallowed hard and rubbed my temples, the sudden rush of emotion inducing one nasty headache. Could I really hunt down the woman I'd never gotten over? If nothing else, I could see her again, but this story... isn't going to end well.