Lillith
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Suzanna A. Levis
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36
Chapter 1: Human Dilemma
VERONICA
I slip the joint between my lips, light it, then slide my Zippo into my back pocket.
“Isn’t it a bit early to be getting high?” Lillith’s voice echoes through the implant in my head.
“If I wanted your opinion…” I mutter. “Actually, I’ve got nothing. The wheels are spinning, but the hamster’s dead.”
I pick up the remote console that tracks the location and status of every drone, but the screen stays black. I give it a high-tech repair by smacking it with the heel of my palm. The display flickers to life, and we’re in business.
“All right, let’s get these bitches in the air.”
The roof panels slide open as I drop into one of the lawn chairs on the rooftop. Under the cover of darkness, we can test the newest drones without drawing too much attention. Not that anyone lives around this shithole. That’s exactly why we’re out here.
Three drones zip out through the roof and hover in formation in front of me. One hangs slightly crooked.
“What’s wrong with number three?” I ask Lillith, glancing at the monitor as she runs a real-time diagnostic.
“Hardware issue. I’ll swap it out,” she says simply.
Drone three zips back inside, and almost immediately another rises to take its place in formation.
We’ve been using drones for a long time now, mostly for recon and tailing targets, but when you have too much time on your hands, the madness starts to creep in. I weaponized these ones for some IRL happy fun times.
What’s the point of being a super genius if you can’t lean into the mad scientist trope every now and then?
“It looks good,” I say, setting the monitor down and taking a moment to smoke before picking up the controller for the drone I’ll be piloting.
“Bring mine out, please.”
Another roof panel slides open, and my tiny drone rises into the air, hovering beside my head.
I don’t know why I love these things as much as I do. They’re like my little pets—just less fluffy, and they don’t love me back.
Knowing this one is probably about to get shot down in the next few minutes, I try not to get too attached. Lillith will pilot the other three and try to take mine out. I don’t expect to outfly her for more than a minute, but I can sure as shit try.
“Are you ready?” I ask Lill.
“I was born ready,” she quips.
I scoff. “Hilarious.”
Getting to my feet, I head for the edge of the building, my drone gliding beside me. I built this one for stealth, and I can’t help the giddy thrill that runs through me at how quiet it is.
I’m definitely making more of these.
“Do you require a head start?” Lillith asks.
I gasp in mock offense. “I have never been more insulted in my life.”
Then I send my drone streaking into the night and steal myself a head start, laughing like a maniac.
Thirty seconds. I don’t even make it a full minute before Lillith shoots my drone down.
Bitch.
With a sigh, I power down the remote. Lillith’s drones zip around me in a brief, mocking victory lap before disappearing back into the building.
I drop back into one of the lawn chairs and pull up the flight data for a closer look.
“Looks good,” I mutter to myself. “Next time, I think we should use aluminum and make it lighter.”
My thoughts immediately veer into darker territory, sketching out the idea of a compact assassination drone with some sort of optic camouflage. If I can keep the design small enough, it might actually work.
Maybe I’ll start with an air-rifle prototype and target my friends. Foolproof.
Well, that’s my weekend sorted.
“Veronica, I’ve had an alert come up,” Lillith says quietly.
I keep scrolling through the drone data, searching for the weapons report.
“Oh yeah? What’s Russia done now?” I ask. “Should we send the oligarchs more erectile dysfunction meds?”
When Lillith says nothing, I know something’s wrong. She doesn’t pause for dramatic effect—if she’s gone quiet, she’s processing something that isn’t data.
At full capacity, Lillith can hack the Pentagon in seven seconds flat. I know because we did it for fun one night when I’d had a little too much to drink.
If she’s hesitating, it isn’t a systems problem. It’s something more human, and human dilemmas are not her strong suit.
“Lillith, what happened?” I ask.
“Jonathan Montana was just admitted to the hospital.”
My heart stutters, then seems to stop altogether. “Which one?”
Jonathan Montana Sr. is as close to a father as I’ve ever had. His son, on the other hand, is the warm fuzzy center of my universe.
Losing either of them would destroy me, but if it’s Junior, I’m ending it all. I’ll have Lillith hack every nuke on the planet and drop them directly on my head. Right here. Right now.
“Langone,” Lillith says.
“Not which hospital, dummy. Which Jonathan Montana?”
“Senior. Heart attack.”
“Jesus Christ, Lill.” Relief rushes out of me in a long breath as I lean back in the chair. “Way to freak me out. I guess we’d better get over there before they start calling in the whole family.”
I flick my joint off the roof and head back through the building toward the underground garage.
This is one of several buildings I own on the block. Most of them are empty warehouses and factories that shut down years ago.
We like our privacy.
I chose this building as my HQ because of the green window on the top floor. It’s nothing more than a large round pane of green glass, but somehow it became one of the few things to worm its way under my skin and turn sentimental.
Jonathan Montana Sr. brought me here as a kid, right after he bought the place, and I remember thinking the sunlight pouring through that window was pure magic.
They used to make glass here. You can still wander down to the lower floors and find the old kilns, shards of glass, and strange, forgotten tools left behind.
As I start my motorbike and head to the hospital, Lillith runs me through the latest updates being added to Montana’s medical file.
“According to this, he’s going to need a triple bypass,” she says.
Given his age and medical history, it’s unlikely he’ll survive the procedure. “With the information you have, calculate his chances of survival.”
“Without our intervention, his chance of survival is thirty-eight percent.”
“Fuck. Maybe open with that next time. Let’s start designing medical drones—something we can deploy automatically when shit like this happens.”
When I arrive at the hospital, Lillith automatically accesses every camera and replaces my face in real time as the footage records—today, she’s using Cookie Monster. Sure, Lillith is the reason I’m in hiding, but she’s also the only reason I can move through public without getting spotted.
Everything in this world is connected to some kind of network, and lucky for me, Lillith is a digital god. Cameras? Easy-peasy. Satellites? Lemon squeezy.
Sure, there are risks involved in creating a self-aware, omnipotent artificial intelligence and then giving it access to the internet. I’ve run the simulations. Hell, I’ve seen the movies. But who ever made progress without taking risks?
Am I mad? Probably. Am I gambling with the whole planet and every living thing on it? No comment.
Do I still wear a baseball cap whenever I go out to hide my face? Absolutely. I’m old-school like that. People have eyes too.
As I make my way through the hospital, I do my best not to look suspicious, but at this hour, only hospital staff are supposed to be here.
In a swanky private hospital like this, I probably should’ve worn some kind of disguise.
“Which way?” I ask Lillith quietly.
“Next left. Room seventy-eighty-eight.”
As I take the corner, I let out a long controlled breat, trying to shake off how much I hate hospitals. The most vivid memories I have of my mother are in one.
Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got him for you.
As I read the numbers on the doors, I know the next room should be Jonathan Sr.’s.
Pulling out the vial of nano bots, I peek inside his dimly lit, empty room. If I can get these nano bots into his system as soon as possible, they might improve his chances of survival.
“How long until they’re done operating?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“Not long now,” Lillith says.
I tighten my grip on the vial. “How long is not long, Lill?”
“Ten to twenty minutes.”
I glance toward the nurses’ station—Lillith has already sent them all off on wild-goose chases to clear this area.
When I look back into the room, I catch movement in the shadows. A man stands at the window, looking out at the city below. He’s so still I almost didn’t see him.
Even from here, I know it’s him—Jon Jr. My Jon Jr. My heart kicks hard, and anxiety clamps tight around my chest.
All it takes is the thought of him, and my body goes haywire. He’s like a drug hitting my bloodstream.
My mind betrays me instantly, conjuring up the feel of his hand sliding around my throat while he fucks me.
I slap myself before ducking out of sight.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” I growl at Lillith.
“I must have missed it,” Lillith lies.
I scoff. “What the fuck are you playing at, Lill? You don’t miss anything.”
Lillith says nothing.
“Lillith, how am I supposed to inject his dad with nanos if he’s here?” I hiss. “And who the fuck let him in at this hour anyway?”
“He’s gone,” Lillith pauses. “Jonathan Montana Sr. has just been declared deceased.”
My hand loosens around the vial. I’m too late. “Fuck.”
I peek back into the room and find Jon still staring out the window.
“You need to leave. I’ve kept the floor clear for as long as I can,” Lillith’s voice barely registers.
Empathy has never come naturally to me—I don’t have much of a heart—but one look at Jon tells me his is about to break the moment he learns his father is gone.
I don’t know what it means to love a father. Jon’s is the closest I ever came to having a respectable male figure in my life, and even then, he kept me at a distance.
I was always the freak. No one wants to get close to the freak; that would make them freakish by association.
“Excuse me, miss,” someone says from behind me, but I ignore him, unable to tear my eyes from Jon’s dark silhouette.
“He snapped when his mom died,” I say quietly to Lillith, remembering the self-destruction Jon unleashed on himself back then. “What’s going to happen when he finds out his dad is gone too?”
“Miss, you can’t be here,” the man says again, more firmly this time. “I’m calling security.”
I keep my mouth shut and walk away. If I open it, I’m bound to get myself into the worst kind of trouble.
