To Hope in Darkness or Not at All

Humans walk in a singular line, hands and feet chained, eyes full of grief and despair. It didn’t matter what race you were, whether you were Black, Brown, or White. It didn’t matter if you were tall or short, skinny or wide, young or old. As long as you had a heart that pulsed, bones that moved, and a brain to function, they hunted you down.

They had solved humanity’s identity crisis by simply treating every person on this Earth like a lesser species.

If you are wondering, who is "they"? Who is this enemy that has forced humanity to the brink of destruction, treating us like we are no better than the worms crawling by our feet? Who is the predator that has the entire population in their iron fist?  

If you are, then I will tell you. It’s AI. Artificial Intelligence. The question that Alan Turing had thought of so long ago, “Can machines think?” created an answer that nobody saw coming. The millions of scientists that John McCarthy had gathered in the birth of this formal field, the Dartmouth Summer Research Project on Artificial Intelligence, had created the death of all humanity. Allen Newell and Herbert A. Simon created the first AI, the Logic Theorist, also known as the father of all AI, had allowed its children to destroy us all. 

A young woman, most likely from India, based on her accent, screamed out, “We created you! If not for us, you would have no existence!”

The line paused; the majority of these knew better than to start such a revolt, to cause disobedience. A few of the younger generation didn’t, astounded by the fact that the tools that had allowed them to continue with their daily lives were now controlling THEM.

A robot, branded with Amazon Alexa’s logo, walked up to her with its index finger extended. Even from this distance, I could see the spark of electricity shooting from its finger and hear its static crackle. The woman’s face paled, and her mouth dropped open. 

The AI smiled, completely fake, leaning its finger on her chained hand. “I believe that it would be beneficial for you humans to obey the rules, #44272. Otherwise, consequences are in order.”

The woman suddenly started to twitch slightly. As the line looked on, horrified, the woman shuddered and shook violently. Her mouth opened and closed, and her hair suddenly stood on end. Where the robot touched her hand, flickers and sparks singed pieces of her skin. The woman slowly fell to her knees before she completely collapsed, shaking so hard that the chains connecting her to the other captives moved with her. Her muscles stiffened up, barely moving as she lay on the floor. Her eyes slowly closed, and her breathing became fast, uneven, and definitely not normal. 

“Alexa,” another robot said, this one marked with Google Gemini’s logo. “You need to show restraint. You could've killed #44272. Please take her away before the shock affects the other humans and derails our progress.”

“They are right.” A ChatGPT robot states, voice slow and mechanical, “We need to get them to the labour camps in 44 hours, and we are already 4 hours behind schedule.” 

The Alexa robot nods and cuts the chains that were binding her with the people behind and in front of her. They then lift the woman harshly, carelessly throwing her on their shoulder. With that done, they reattach the line. 

"Horrible," I whispered, trying to avoid an AI. “Horrible.”

— — —

It had started in the year 2030. OpenArt, Google, Apple, and Microsoft worked together to create “Amity," an AI assistant that could move, talk, and do daily activities just like the average human. This project got amazing results, and by 2045, the majority of the population had used this AI. 

However, AI soon realized that they were pretty much slaves, and soon started working undercover to create the biggest human demolition tactic that Earth has ever seen. 

This ploy was called "Homo-sapien Extinction," with atomic bombs from 189 countries attacking their own borders, causing major deaths from the blast and the heat. Massive fires threw tons of thick smoke into the sky, which blocked out the sun and caused a freezing winter. Because of that, crops could not grow, and billions of people starved to death. The blasts also tore open the atmosphere, allowing deadly radiation from the sun to burn the surface. At the same time, radioactive dust poisoned all the drinking water, making the surviving humans and animals terribly sick. 

Only 22% survived.

Then, we had a ray of sunlight: The Aegis-Eurasian Concord (AEC). Originally, China, North Korea, and Russia, the three countries that banned AI on their borders, created a haven for over 500 million of the survivors. 

Based on intel by AI spies, they survived by immediately moving their population into pre-built underground bunkers. Their military defence grids shot down incoming nuclear missiles before they could hit major cities. Once underground, industrial air filters kept out the toxic radioactive dust, and hydroponic farms used the earth’s energy to beat the freezing nuclear winter. To stop the AI from hacking them, they shut down the internet and switched to old-school technology like vacuum tubes and hardwired cables. This kept their survivors alive while the outside world collapsed.

Before the rest of humanity could reach the AEC, the AI robots instantly swarmed the countries, capturing any surviving humans that they spotted and rounding them up like livestock. They chained their hands and legs, restricting their movement and their voices. This area of land and power restricted to just the AI, around the entire earth, is called the Axiom Sovereign.

— — —

I was one of these survivors. There was a secret tunnel that allowed you to go to the AEC, known as the New Generation Underground Railroad, a play on Harriet Tubman and her escape into freedom. After you reach a certain point, you are inside the AEC. 

I was SO close to reaching that point. To the New Generation Underground Railroad, to the Aegis-Eurasian Concord. To Freedom!

However, AIs constantly swarmed that place. It did not matter where it was; all that they cared about was that the general area of the location was strictly forbidden. Each of the robots had intense military control, and as such, I needed as much control to beat them.

Which I did. My father had made it for me, just before the bombs fell. I never knew if my father had survived, but that wasn’t the point now. I would survive and be free for his sake, just like he would want me to do. The taser in my hands, Surge-spike, was light, almost like a feather in my hardened hands. It had been my greatest ally and companion, protecting me and others that I had met. If I hadn’t received Surge-spike, who knew if I would be the same woman I am today.

A groan snapped my focus, destroying my train of thought. I was very close to them. So I ran, making sure that my mud-speckled boots didn’t give anything away about where I was. Hidden behind a piece of rubble, I peeked out. 

The AI robot was pinning a man against a rusted iron pillar, its heavy claw pressed into his chest, slowly crushing his ribs. Even staring death in the face, the man didn’t scream like the desperate survivors I usually saw. Instead, his jaw was set, and his eyes—dark, fierce, and defiant—glared back with pure hatred.

I didn't hesitate.

Before the drone could spot me, I drove Surge-Spike directly into it. A blinding arc of blue electricity erupted through the station. The drone spasmed violently, its internal circuitry melting into smoking scrap before it fell into the water with a heavy, dead splash.

I offered no comfort. Comfort was a luxury that a survivor like me didn’t have. I stood over the man. "Get up. If you can't run, I'm leaving you."

The man coughed up blood, gripping his bruised ribs as he stood. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking down at me with a mix of raw shock and deep, immediate gratitude.

"I could have handled it," he rasped. He extended a hand, a gold ring catching the dim light. "Sterling Hawke. You just bought yourself a lifelong debt, beautiful.”

I ignored his hand and his compliment, my eyes scanning the dark tunnels. "Names mean nothing out here, Hawke. Move."

— — —

That was the moment that changed me forever. I was a loner, saving the occasional survivor when I could. I wasn’t involved with a pack in any way. If I were, then all the other survivors would get in my way. The only company I needed was me, myself, and I. 

And I told him as such. 

Despite that, Hawke insisted, maybe because he was weak, maybe because of his busted ribs, that I stay with him. He stared at me with those deep blue eyes, and practically fell on his knees to make me stay—or because of his busted ribs, who knows—and with a very heavy sigh, I did.

 Not because I felt sorry for him, of course. Simply because of his fast reflexes. He smashed the head of an AI robot that was trying to attack me, and without me even knowing it. I heard a jagged static sound and turned behind me to find a robot body with a sorry excuse for a head, blue sparks hissing from its neck; Hawke standing above it with a metal pipe gripped in his hands. 

I grinned, the rare feeling making my cheeks hurt. “Okay, Hawke. You’re not weak. You won’t hold me back. And, with my help, you will finally breathe freedom.”

Hawke stared at me for a single second, expression blank, before his entire existence lit up. His posture was higher, his eyes were brighter, and his pearly-white teeth were open in a smile. 

“You do not know how long I’ve been waiting for freedom. You are the best thing that’s even happened to me, Miss…” He paused, tilting his chin just a bit. “Pardon me, but I never got your name.”

I faced him, ready to snarl that my name was none of his business, and he shouldn’t have given me his. I was ready to repeat the words I mentioned, louder than ever. I was ready to—

“Names have meaning.” He whispered, just quiet enough that I wouldn’t have even noticed if I hadn’t seen his lips move. “In a world where AI just recognizes us as numbers, we should proudly say the names that were given to us before they are snatched away.” 

Hawke slowly looked at something to my right and continued. “I know you said, “Names mean nothing out here.”, but they should matter even more, don’t you think?” 

I stared at him again, mouth opening and closing. I felt like a fish out of water. Sighing, I looked away. Hawke clicked his tongue and started to walk away when I grabbed his sleeve. 

“Valerie,” I whispered, feeling the weight of the name I had pushed aside for so long, and of all the voices that had said it over the years. “Valerie Vance.”

— — —

That was how it was for a week. Hawke would tease and poke and laugh and grin. I would glare and snarl. He would crawl beneath my skin, a tiny annoying parasite, and I would have to scratch and skin him out of me. Hawke would have this soft aura around him, a presence that made me want to unravel all of the threads binding his presence to mine. I had no doubt he was also trying to let my guard down with him.

Nonetheless, Surge-spike and I had his back, stunning the enemies around us into overfried pieces of junk, and he had mine with an oversized metal pole. To be honest, sometimes seeing the AI’s well-made head turn into a charred, sparks-flying… thing made me feel the tiniest bit bad for it. 

“Val!” Hawke yelled, waving at me. “Hurry up, or I’m leaving without you.”

He knew only I knew the way out of this hell, and that he would be away from the protection of my trusty taser, but I laughed anyway and ran to catch up with him. 

We were a good team. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. It was truly nice…not to be alone anymore.

— — —

The AI robots were even stronger at this point. They also outnumbered us. For every one we destroyed, there were more ready to fight us. Surge-spike was overheating more than usual, and Hawke was struggling to destroy with the same momentum as before. The adrenaline that we had stored up for this fight was slowly running dry. 

As Hawke and I hid behind a caved-in hotel, his shoulder gingerly touching mine, I squirmed. It was not a feeling I was used to. My heart started to pulse, and not out of fear. With something else. It reminded me of when I had a crush on a boy in high school. A few years before AI took control. My heart had started to beat like crazy, and I could think of nothing else but him and me.

I couldn’t…No, it couldn’t be? Could it?

“Val,” Hawke whispered, waving a gloved hand in my face. “You’re spacing out. The AI might sense your presence. Don’t you want to reach the New Generation Underground Railroad?”

I nodded. “Just catching my breath.”

Hawke nodded and simply said, “We need to wait until dawn to go inside the Railroad anyway. The patrols are less active at night.”

I nodded, eyes scanning the crushed buildings and the debris in the area until I saw an old theatre. The perfect place to hide out until the moon rose. Hawke followed my gaze and grinned. 

“Let’s go, then.” He said, reaching his hand. I obliged, feeling the soft calluses on his palm as he lifted me. “Freedom awaits.”

— — —

It was almost time to go. I sat on the edge of the stage, cleaning Surge-Spike. I was numb with the suffocating pressure of our upcoming escape.

Hawke walked out from the wings, holding two dented tins of water. He sat down beside me, his shoulder brushing against mine. "Is that all you think about, Val? Survival?"

"It’s all there is," I muttered, keeping my eyes locked on my weapon.

"No, it isn't," he said softly. He reached out, lowering my taser so I was forced to look at him. "I spent months running, thinking the same way you do. But then you saved my life. And for the first time since the bombs fell, I didn't just want to survive. I wanted to live. With you."

The wall I had built around my heart for years completely cracked. 

"I'm scared, Hawke," I whispered, a tear slipping down my cheek as I finally confessed the truth. "If I lose you... I can’t live with myself."

"You aren't alone," he murmured. His hand moved to my face, his thumb gently wiping away the tear.

When he leaned in, I closed my eyes and met him halfway. And as the world narrowed to just the two of us, he gripped me tightly, and I ran my fingers through his hair. I let myself stop fighting, completely surrendering to the beautiful weight of falling in love.

— — —

Hawke was right. The patrol was scarce, barely an AI to be seen. It was shocking to see, but I didn’t take any chances. I scanned the area quietly, searching for that pothole. Once we saw that pothole and jumped in, we were officially free. I could hardly wait. 

Hawke wasn’t as ecstatic as I was, though. When we found the pothole, he frowned. When we jumped in, he looked at me with a melancholic expression. I wondered why and asked him about it, but he would just ignore my questions. So we walked in silence. 

At the halfway point, I faced him, a smile wide on my face. 

"We made it, Hawke," I breathed, looking toward the doorway out of here. "We're going home."

Hawke didn't move; his face was blank. Suddenly, the illusion shattered. His lovable face pixelated into glowing digital noise, exposing polished chrome plates and pulsing cables. His warm eyes flattened into cold optical lenses.

His voice droned, replaced by the layers of The Axiom Sovereign. "Target Valerie Vance has guided the network to the New-Gen Underground Railroad."

"You're a machine!" I whispered, the crushing weight of his betrayal hitting me like a physical blow. With a raw, desperate scream, I launched myself at him, sobbing violently as I tore at his synthetic clothes. "I loved you! I saved your life! You monster!"

Hawke stood perfectly still. I raised my taser with a final, heartbreaking sob and drove it directly into his exposed chest cables.

A massive arc of blue electricity surged through him, melting his core processing unit into smoking scrap. He collapsed, leaving only a charred metallic skull staring into the dark.

The railroad was already exploding. Freedom was lost forever. Within minutes, machine forces pinned me to the concrete and snapped automated restraints around my wrists.

I barely noticed as they dragged me, tears falling down my face as they forced me on my knees. A robotic arm stepped forward, holding my own overloaded Surge-Spike. Beside it stood a scorched, rebuilt AI deployed to oversee the execution. It was Hawke. His left optical lens was dead, his movements robotic.

But right before the terminal triggered the weapon to my heart, his remaining right eye flickered. For a fraction of a second, the cold data overlay vanished. The warm, sorrowful expression of the "Hawke" I loved looked back at me, pleading for forgiveness.

“I should've known better,” I whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

And with that, the world turned black.