My Best,

For my dad, an incredible man who never stops giving. Thank you for everything.

Jackson stared at the casket standing upright in the center of the chamber. “The mechanic is on the way,” he muttered.

“How long, then?” Mary asked.

“Not long,” Jack replied, his eyes glued to the ceremonial preparations.

“Thanks, Jack,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.

“Are you really planning on going through with this?” Jackson asked his father, his face contorted with worry.

“Of course, I am.” Marcus patted Jackson on the shoulder. “I’ve looked forward to Transference since it began twenty years ago. Gaia hasn’t steered us wrong yet.”

“I don’t think it’s for everyone.” Mary chimed in as she rounded the corner to the ceremonial chamber. “I’m not comfortable leaving every decision to a machine. Not to mention the low acceptance rate.”

“That machine stopped the war,” Marcus replied curtly, preparing the cremation device at the base of the steel casket, its sides riddled with wires leading up to the full-spectrum brain scanner connected directly to Gaia. “You kids are too young to understand.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mary said, as she adjusted the valves on the oxygen tanks connected to the casket. “That might be true, but I don’t think you see Gaia for what it is.”

“It’s a collective, a computer that will forever learn thanks to Transference. I will join it, and part of it will become me. Together we are whole.”

“Together we are whole.” Mary and Jackson replied in tandem, bowing their heads.

“Dad, I worry you'll get rejected by the scales. They judge each individual harshly. The Smiths stopped trying after multiple rejections. There’s no shame.”

“Shame?” Marcus retorted, his tone snide. “Shame is not doing my duty to this country, no, the world. Let the scales decide my worth.”

“Marcus, we want you to stick around, be an example for the kids. Show them transference isn’t everything.” Mary blurted out. “I don’t want my children thinking this is normal.”

“This is my day. I earned this and like it or not, Mary. I’m to be judged.”

“Dad. We didn’t.”

“You didn’t,” Marcus said coldly, his stern eyes on Mary. “It’s fine…just try to enjoy the ceremony. You loved it when your mom passed.”

“I was nine.”

“Still. It doesn’t have to be bad, sad or about damned politics. Set everything aside, Jack. I want this.” Marcus stared into his son's eyes as if it were the last time they’d ever meet, absorbing every last detail down to the black flecks in his warm brown iris.

“Here. Let me help.” Taking his father's hand, Jackson eased him into the casket. Lying at an angle, Marcus shifted the brain scanner into place while Jackson paused before connecting the heart and oxygen monitors. “Dad, can I ask—why are you so set on this?”

“It’s the patriotic thing to do, the right thing to do,” Marcus replied. His voice stayed firm, but his eyes betrayed him, filled with grief. He pulled a clunky visor across his head, covering his vision with a crisp, panoramic display of his memories.

“Come on, there must be something else.”

“Nothing,” Marcus checked his vitals in the corner of the visor and watched his blood pressure rise. “Leave it.”

“Dad…”

Mary tapped her foot against the concrete floor, looking at the exit. “I think the kids should sit this out.”

Jack straightened as he turned to his wife. “Mary, we agreed they’d be present for this.”

“Fine,” Mary rolled her eyes as she left the room. “But this isn’t over, Jack. We’re having a serious conversation when we get home.”

“Fine,” Jackson said stiffly, folding his arms as he watched her go.

“Is the mechanic ready?” Marcus asked, deftly changing the topic.

“Hello,” an older man said jovially from the doorway on the opposite side of the room. “I’m your mechanic, Douglas. I’ll guide the scan and manage the interface during the ceremony.”

Marcus extended his hand. “Pleasure to meet ya, Doug,”

“It’s not every day I get to assist a member of 1st company. The pleasure’s mine, sir.” Shaking Marcus’s hand, Douglas walked to the opposite end and began linking cables from the casket to a 3D display in the center of the room. “Once the rest of the family is here, we’ll start with a scan and proceed to the scales.”

“What happens if the scales reject him?” Jackson asked behind a lump in his throat.

“They get one chance to redeem themselves,” Douglas said, lacing a cable into an open panel in the floor. “One memory, to show they are worthy of becoming a part of Gaia.”

Mary returned with the twins, Nina, and Taylor in tow. “Who is the judge?”

“Gaia, of course,” Douglas replied with cheer as he closed up the floor. “All set. I’ll get back to my station so we can begin.”

“Grandpa!” Nina shouted with excitement as she ran over to hug Marcus. “What’s all this stuff?”

“It’s the transference device,” Marcus said coolly, patting her head.

“Transfence? What’s that?” Taylor asked, standing shyly behind her mother.

Jackson knelt to meet her gaze. “Transference. If the scales judge Grandpa worthy, he’ll become a part of Gaia. Something bigger than you or me.”

“What if they don’t like him?” Nina asked, her eyes filled with wonder.

“Oh, nothing, honey, grandpa will simply go to sleep,” Mary said nervously, pulling Nina away from Marcus.

Marcus shifted in the casket for optimal comfort. “That’s not entirely true,”

“That’s enough.” Mary spat. “They’ll learn as they grow.”

“Or, they can learn now.”

“Come on, Dad.”

“I won’t overstep. But someone will have to explain it to them at the end of the ceremony.”

“He’s not wrong, Mary. What did you plan on telling them?” Jack paced the length of the room.

Taylor and Nina ignored the adult conversation and focused on their grandpa in the casket as Mary lowered her voice to an icy whisper. “Nothing. They don’t need to worry about death yet.”

“Yes, they do.” Marcus sighed.

“I’m done arguing. Dad, we’ll tell them after the ceremony. Once you’re…”

“Jack, those kids need to know what they’re about to see.”

“It’ll be okay, we’re all just doing our best, right?” Jack replied, his raspy voice wavered at the end.

His words passed like an heirloom from his father to him, and now to his son. He had said the same thing when in tough spots. Marcus cracked a smile. “Okay, Jack.”

“Okay?” Mary asked, confused. “Just like that?”

“Yep.” Jack chuckled.

“Just like that,” Marcus replied, looking at his son through the visor covering his face.

“Ahem…mic check. Can everybody hear me?” Douglas chimed in, breaking the tension in the room with the crackling static of the intercom.

“Loud and clear, Doug,” Marcus muttered. “Thank Gaia.”

“The system is booting up now. How you feeling? Are you ready to meet the scales?”

“Let’s do this.”

“Judgment starts in ten seconds,” Douglas said, his tone oddly chipper. “Nine. Eight.”

“Dad,” Jack said softly. “We can still call this off.”

“You don’t have to do this, Marcus,” Mary added, holding the kids away from the display humming to life. “You could stay and spend more time with the kids.”

“Five.”

“You’ll never understand. I fought for this. My friends died for this. My wife transferred, and so will I.” Marcus retorted, his voice shaky with fear.

“Three!” Taylor and Nina screamed in tandem with Douglas.

“Mom isn’t there anymore. Dad, you saw how she was after. She’s not in there,” Jack said while running a hand down his face, silence filling the space between him and his father.

“I know,” Marcus said solemnly, his jaw slack as the machine took hold.

The lights in the room flickered and shut off entirely as the 3D display projected the courtroom image, Marcus sitting in the center before an invisible judge.

“Rogers, Marcus D. Age 85. You are to be judged against the scales of Gaia under the first law of the world government. The acceptance rate is below one percent. Rejection means death. Do you agree to proceed?” A chorus of voices said in unison.

“I agree,” Marcus replied firmly, clapping his hands together in a symbolic form of togetherness. “For together we are whole.”

“Together we are whole.” Everyone replied in the ceremonial chamber along with Gaia. “Mechanic, activate the neural bridge.”

“Bridge connected, Gaia,” Douglas said calmly. “Ready to proceed to the next phase.”

“Proceed.”

Douglas toggled a few switches, saying. “Activating neural scanner now.”

“Thank you, Mechanic. Standby.”

Taylor stared at the display; her eyes filled with awe, shimmered under the lights. “What’s gonna happen to grandpa?”

Mary rubbed Taylor's back as she knelt by her side. “He’s about to be judged, honey.”

“He looks scared,” Nina whispered while walking toward the display.

“He might be. But your grandpa would never admit it.” Jack replied with a wink.

“Rogers, Marcus D., you have been weighed against the scales of Gaia and deemed unworthy. Per the law, you have one chance to display a memory that will prove your worth. Choose wisely.”

“Gaia, I’m old and my memory is fuzzy. Please choose for me. I trust you.”

Mary stepped back, gasping. “What is he doing?”

“He knows what he’s doing,” Jackson replied, watching the feed, his eyes on his father. “Trust him.”

“Processing request. Memory located. Mechanic, please start the recording.”

***

A young Marcus dashed from cover to cover across the dilapidated building, landing hard with his back against the wall near the captain. “Sir.”

“We gotta buy more time for the installation.” Captain Harmon screamed to the troops, his voice echoing through the ruins. Grabbing Marcus by the collar, Harmon pulled him in close. “Hold this line—no matter what.”

“No.”

“What was that?” Harmon asked, his face turning a deep red as the murmurs of nearby soldiers rumbled across the concrete.

“I’m not dying for a machine we don’t know will work.”

“Orders are orders.” Harmon pointed his rifle at Marcus and stood. “You’ve got one chance. Say, ‘yes, sir,’ or get put down like all traitors.”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus spat through gritted teeth, his hand twitching with rage. “Understood.”

“Good. You may not like it. But that machine. Is our best fucking shot.” Harmon barked. “Go relieve Rios, take his spot on the wall. Consider it, penance private.”

“Yes, sir…”

***

“Hey, cap wants me on the gun.” Marcus kicked Rios’s legs, propped up on an ammo box across from the turret’s swivel seat.

Shrugging, Rios slid off the chair to his feet and rolled down the stairs, blowing a cloud of smoke behind him. “How’d you piss ‘em off this time?”

“Just being me.”

“Yah, it doesn’t take much, I’m sure I’ll be on the shitlist soon en…” Rios’ body dropped with a thud, his head chunked and a crimson spray across the pillar behind him.

“Contact!” Marcus screamed at the top of his lungs while jumping into the turret; he activated the targeting computer and, within a beat, was laying down suppressing fire into the black parking lot beyond. “Large force, south wall. Requesting backup, over.”

“Negative, Rogers. Backup is a no-go, we’re taking fire, east hall.” Wilson replied over the comms, his voice shaky.

“Tanks and carriers, west side. Acknowledge.” Smith said from his position in the sniper's nest.

Piper sprinted from the north side, shouting, “Overwhelming force, north—" before a bullet cut him down mid-stride, crumpling him in the hallway.

“Tangos, east side. Millard, Doran, and Green, KIA, over.” Alverez whispered, barely audible through his trembling.

“Contact, all sides. It’s a fucking kill box in…” Jennings yelled as he took two rounds to the head.

Holding Captain Harmon in his arms, Reynolds watched the chaos unfold around him in slow motion. “Harmon’s down. 2nd company, do you read? We are unable to hold. You must protect the asset.”

“Copy, 1st company. That door opens for no one.” Blanker replied firmly, his tone becoming solemn at the end. “Installation complete. Hang tight, we’re almost done down here. Stay alive.”

Marcus howled like a lunatic over the comm chatter and the horde of soldiers charging his way as he slammed a new magazine into the turret. His vision tunneled, and all he could see was the target reticle moving from enemy to enemy. He could barely breathe against the heat coming from the triple-barreled gun as he mowed down what seemed like thirty, if not fifty, men.

His vision faded into a solid state, matching the new color of the concrete. The barrels rattled, churning end over end due to his fingers glued to the trigger. The shock had settled, and he couldn’t have known.

He blinked his sight back to normal as an ethereal voice spoke in every language over all comms. “Hello, we are Gaia, your new overseer. Those in opposition, please refrain from further violent acts, or you will be marked for death by drone as an enemy of peace and unity. For together, we are whole.”

The voice cut, shifting into just his ear. “Hello, Rogers, D. Marcus. Do not be afraid.”

“What the hell?” Marcus mumbled. The turret stopped, and in the haze, he saw them—hands raised, weapons discarded. They were... surrendering, and slowly retreating.

***

Jack rubbed Mary’s back gently as he let out a heavy sigh. “I had no idea.”

“Marcus, you. I. I’m sorry.” Mary whispered to herself, unable to watch the display any longer. “You deserved better.”

“Grandpa was so tough!” Nina said, jumping around. “So cool.”

Taylor clung to her mother throughout, barely able to look at Marcus. “Grandpa was scary. He…hurt people. Why?”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Mary said to soothe Taylor. “Grandpa would never hurt you.”

“Rogers, D. Marcus. You are worthy to join us. Mechanic, please begin transference.”

Ever the stoic, Marcus showed little emotion in his old age as he spoke with Gaia. “Together, we are whole.”

“Welcome home, Marcus,” Gaia finished as the casket hummed to life.

“Goodbye…” Jack whispered as Marcus went limp, the white glow tracing the cable toward a unity that promised everything, but revealed nothing. The casket sealed shut, cremating Marcus and leaving behind an urn of ashes inscribed with his final words.

We're all doing our best. Love, Dad.