Humanity 2 0 Year 055 Day 301

I consider there to have been three phases to my life after meeting 15226. I am writing this now, of course, in the third phase, but the bulk of this journal consists of the first and second. Without better terms to describe them, I label each phase by the part of my body that saw the most use in it. Phase one -- well, phase one was all about my dick. My first task was to make hominus girls out of human girls, which, in hindsight, I may have dragged my feet on.

The second phase was all about having to actually use my brain. I stepped into a position of leadership - never formally, just sort of a de-facto leader of our kind, especially after Project Elysium got rolling and devoured a colossal amount of everyone's time and energy. Entire days went by without me having sex!

Well, not that many, but there were a few.

The third phase, which began a few decades after our exodus from the Vault, is defined by my heart. My people no longer really need me as a leader; in fact, I think it's best I not lead. Emily filled in for a while, but she, too, handed power off to later generations, those who didn't grow up in the old world. We have a somewhat different way of seeing things, one that's... dated.

As everyone knows, we did pick our site for Elysium - not far from Lake Baikal, in what was once - in my youth - Siberia. Our best guesses said that the number one hardest thing to come by in a sun-scorched world with molten polar caps, insane weather, low oxygen, and an almost-extinct biosphere would be lots of fresh water - and Baikal was sitting on twenty percent of the world's supply, and far above sea level where it might be overrun.

I glanced over at some of the floating schematics that were always running in between the three workstations in the den - constantly monitoring the whole project, along with the location and task of every automated constructor. They were mostly still working on the foundations and framework - the skeleton - that would ultimately become the Elysium superstructure. So much had to be done before a single person could live there; power, water, sewer, transportation, all of it had to be planned decades in advance if the place was to be livable centuries later.

Late at night, even in the summer months, it grew cold in Siberia. Even I, who generally didn't mind the cold air, right then was wearing a thick black sweater and heavy pants and boots. I leaned forward, against the railing on the outer observation deck of the Foxtrot. The night sky here was always a sight to see; the auroras were one thing, but just the clarity of the stars themselves was always incredible. The closer you looked, the more you saw.

I couldn't believe that I was more than seventy-five years old already. Had I not met 15226, would the time have passed more slowly? Would I have taken things at a different pace - or did normal humans wake up one day and realize fifty years had passed, and wonder where the time went? Would a hominus' centuries-long lifespan be no different, in the end, from a human's, with it all coming down to perception?

Well, no matter how often I drifted into its territory, I was never much of one for the higher levels of philosophy. Too easy to get caught up in ideas so abstract that language is useless to describe them, and no two people talking about it ever actually understand each other. The language of sex and fucking was my specialty, one that none of the old species truly spoke... but plenty of my girls - more than fluent in it - were close at hand.

Chilled air swept by, but I ignored it, taking another sip of my coffee. On the horizon to the south, I could see the occasional flash and even hear a distant thundering noise once in a while... I tried not to think too much about them. The Chinese civil wars were a whole new kind of horror. With the way biochemical and neutron weapons were being deployed by all five players involved, it wouldn't be long until huge swathes of the Middle Kingdom became uninhabitable - some of them even now.

Above and about the horizon, I could see a handful of circling, blinking lights; that would be Sasha's drone fleet, filling the air with the jamming signals that kept foreign drones from spying - or worse, attacking. That and Wren's maser batteries - um, I guess we don't build many large-scale weapons like that, so think of a laser except made of microwaves - were enough to keep us safe... so far, anyway.

The Foxtrot was perched atop the highest completed floor of the west tower, where we had line-of-sight command access to all of the orbiting drones - and, in turn, the whole AC fleet. The bulky habitat's six legs each attached with both magnetic and hydraulic clamps to standing girders, and it had numerous defenses as well as a limited autonomous intelligence that could react far faster than any human - or hominus, for that matter.

The tower we were occupying was one of three independent units that would comprise the bulk of Elysium's above-ground component; one mostly above ground and towering above the land around it, one a sprawling complex over several square miles and protected by a canopy, and the third one completely underground. They would be connected, but each would be capable of independently sustaining itself on an oxygen-less, lifeless Earth for the four hundred years we'd set as the goal for a maximum-populated unit.

Right now, though, it was all just a mess of standing metal, crawling with faceless mechanical ACs building the basic structure. Elysium wasn't habitable yet, and wouldn't be for years. We had to build it to weather incredible punishment; not only did it have to be sustainable for centuries with no outside resources, but it had to be able to withstand earthquakes, radiation, super-canes, atmospheric poisoning - the list went on. For the next decade or so, Wren, Sasha, and I would be lost in the endless details of building the place. The rest of the girls were involved at many points, but it was we three who lived it day and night.

There was still plenty of work to be done, and tonight was another late night. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Wren and Sasha tangled together on the bed - likely having clung together for warmth when the cool air blasted them as I stepped outside. I'd been sleeping in between them, but I wouldn't be able to again unless I manhandled one or both. Strange - asleep, they seemed like a perfect, loving girl-couple.

Wren's tattoos - still as sharply defined as seventeen years ago, how she did that I had no idea - and her pure white hair were the only distinguishing feature between the two from this angle; they were nearly identical in their shades of skin and virtually every other aspect. They'd passed for twins on more than one occasion, and when Wren dyed her hair and they were dressed from head to toe, they'd fooled even me - if for only a few moments.

The two would rest for a few hours, like me, then get back to their workstations - probably arguing again. I sometimes felt like I was only there to keep the two of them from killing each other sometimes, but they made love to one another with the same passion only an hour ago.

Neither had punched out any children in the past few years; they'd decided to make Elysium their baby. I was as wrapped up in it as they were, of course, but it wasn't stopping me from pumping big, virile loads into fertile pussies that availed themselves... Rain and Nadine would both be swelling up pregnant again soon, and I'd sunk my cock into Naomi's tight, defenseless snatch the night before last to make our newest recruit pregnant as well. That was only my own work - my sons were, in turn, each busy with their own generations of girls, producing even more of us.

Naomi, my gorgeous half-Chinese, half-Canadian math-whiz princess was off to the Vault now, probably still en route - it would be her first time seeing the place. I hadn't been back in nine years; I was told Melody and Hannah's work to spruce it up and make it seem more like a home and less like a dim, cavernous realm of echoes and silence had been successful... to everyone's surprise. I hadn't thought it possible either.

A month ago, I'd become a grandfather... for the twenty-sixth time. Blake and Zoe's second, Chalcedony. You're probably wondering why you never heard of her - it's because you all know her as Francesca or just Franna. She's gone to some length to make sure everyone calls her by one of those two names. The little fad for naming the third-generation girls after gemstones started to get a bit weird after they ran out of the more commonly known examples.

Fortunately, her grandfather swooped in hours later to wisely give her the middle name that she now goes by. That ended up becoming a hominus tradition, on our side, now; the mother picks the first name, the father the middle... or, more accurately, backup... name in case the mother was having a 'special moment' when she picked the first one.

A few more images from the previous night floated through my head; my cock was half-erect in my pants soon, bulging along my thigh where my heavy pants confined it. Sasha and Wren make the most beautiful sixty-nines, really; it's hard to tell where one begins and the other ends. Two pairs of smallish breasts squashed against each other's stomachs as they clung together tightly, noses and mouths buried lovingly in each other's most intimate places.

I saw a group of three ACs group together to do something - oh, right, the tertiary network hub was going to be installed, so they were putting in the mounting brackets and housing. Two of the bulky, four-limbed monsters clamped themselves to nearby girders, suspended perilously twenty stories above ground, and held the main housing mount in place perfectly still as the third set to work with his welding beams.

Their yellow-and-black striped bodies were only decorated with panels and a few green lenses for their eyes, but when the flashing light of the welders glinted just right, sometimes it looked like they were staring at me. A bit creepy, really. Wren told me that the eyes on them were nearly an afterthought. The ACs worked almost completely off ultrasonic sonar, and the eyes were more to provide the operators with a camera feed than because the machines needed them.

I saw the approaching lights on the horizon, and waited the few more minutes it took for Nina's angular hyperfan to come up alongside the Foxtrot. She'd told me she would be in soon, and I'd recognize her bright yellow paint job anywhere. I supposed it might have been camouflage - had she been flying directly out of the sun.

Its three ducted jets blew out wide columns of blue-white thrust, keeping it just above the makeshift tarmac next to us - not much more than a simple metal slab we had the ACs bolt down wherever we had the Foxtrot mounted that week. I went inside, crossing the kitchen and going downstairs through the storage room to the western access, and opened it just in time for Nina to leap into my arms.

We kissed immediately, and held it for a while. Nina's a bit taller than most of the others, so it's slightly less awkward with her; I guess she took that as license for extra kissing. Still, it didn't help if I reached down and gave her a little pickup to keep her closer to my face... and grabbing a free handful of her taut, round ass while I was at it.

"It's been, what, two years?" She sounded breathy when we finally broke the kiss, though she gave me another two quick pecks on each cheek for good measure.

"Hey, your idea, not mine." I shrugged.

"Funny, I could say the same to you." She peered up at me. "I have my project, you have yours. Elysium is like your a new girlfriend... she's totally monopolizing you. Some of the girls even complained to me about it. They want me to convince you to come to Alaska and fuck each and every one of them the way they know only you can."

"Can't leave here. Too much to do." I shook my head - then grinned. "And... well, I have it on good authority - Blake is no slouch in the bedroom. He and I were on the comm the other day, and he actually had five girls lined up outside his office, waiting to be his one o'clock fuck, his one-fifteen fuck, his one-thirty fuck. I thought he was kidding at first, but it's just another day on the job for him." I grinned. "Even I never had it like that. I mean, he obviously gets it from me, but still."

"Oh?" Nina gave me a mocking glare. "My son learned more about sex from me than anyone else, I'll have you know."

"Our son." I chuckled. "It's good to see you again. Let's go upstairs."

She nodded, and we went back up into the living room. It was laid out in the Boston Foundry style, mostly pearl-ceramic white with some glossy, obsidian black accents. The floor was dominated by a large, ten-foot-diameter depressed circle, about two feet deep, lined all along its edges by a thick and plush couch.

Only the stairs near the entrance broke the round circumference of fabric. The center was a round black table, wired right in to the Foxtrot's network, giving direct net access and constant video feeds, troovies - and, of course, no shortage of the porn that Wren and Sasha loved to watch.

They don't do it to get themselves aroused or jill off, mind you - oddly, porn from the old world is considered high comedy by no small number of us, and it was those two who began that... odd... tradition. I've never really understood it either, but the times they were watching it was one of the few times they didn't argue, so I didn't complain. It still broke up my rhythm when one or both of them made incredibly fake orgasm noises in the middle of sex, then immediately both burst out laughing.

Nina and I did some catching up, mostly on the little details that never seem to come up over the comm. Her Tibetan monastery idea had seemed kind of silly at first, but I had to admit I was more tempted to visit the more I heard. They were discovering things there, the inner secrets of ourselves - our minds and bodies, as well as our electrophoridae abilities and how they might let us communicate with one another in wholly new ways.

Nina wanted to know now - well, last night, Wren and I had had a brief spell in the shower after Sasha dozed off; she washed my cock clean, then groaned as I let my desire for her slim form take over. I pinned her against the wall of the shower and fucked her pussy hard and fast, letting the hot water wash over us the whole time. It had been only two minutes, at most, before she came, then I did moments later - flooding her with another thick load of come that dripped out after I withdrew. We'd dried off and joined Sasha in bed for a few hours' rest.

I smiled to myself, taking the last sip of coffee in my cup. I'd have gotten up to make more, but there was a sexy Nina in my lap. Instead, I sat back and just thought for a while as Nina looked through her emails. I needed to sit down with her sometime before she left to get her to look at the budget and timetables. She always saw something the rest of us didn't.

I could see the first hints of light forming on the clouds to the east, heralding sunrise. Over the horizon, probably somewhere to the south, Miller was out there. We knew he'd come out to oversee his para-military offensive in person. He knew I was here, but things weren't like before. He couldn't just send in a pack of goons to ambush me; they'd never get to me. He'd need an army... or what he'd brought instead, a few squads of elite, state-of-the-art ghilmen. In many ways, that was a worse scenario than him bringing two whole regiments of soldiers.

Miller was getting old; last I'd seen him was two years ago, in South Africa. I don't think he expected to see me at a big dinner party hosted by some philanthropist or another he knew; I knew he'd been tempted to call in the cavalry, even in as public a place as that. He hadn't - but he didn't take my invitation to sit down for a drink either.

Prick.

I went into the office, putting more coffee on the machine as Nina went to take a brief nap in the spare bedroom after her six-hour solo flight from Tibet. Sitting on one of the chairs by the kitchen, I opened the folder I'd had in my other hand, revealing my pad. It was in these days that I had begun taking the notes that would later, when we were in the Vault, become this very journal.

I took down daily house-keeping information for myself - section 2-N finally completed, behind schedule by two years; power supplies for AC recharging insufficient; stray missile strike on the south corridor obliterated twelve percent of incoming raw materials for eastern tower foundation, must place new order. Nina arrived to visit and see the progress of Elysium; looking forward to her input. Claudia left Perth HQ today for a year-long shift in the Vault, along with Naomi, Rain, Sheldon, Ava, and Ivy. Sheldon was about to become a very busy man, but I had no doubt my son was up to the job.

Most of the journal was technical at the time, the product of my own need of assistance for keeping track of the numberless variables, decisions, and design changes that inevitably came along with such a huge project as Elysium. Still, I occasionally scribbled to myself in the margins notes about how I was feeling, which girls I was with on any given day, who visited, tracking information on the corporate pseudo-states that worked both for and against us, days on which children were born where, and so on.

An hour later, I was inside, back at my workstation. It seemed always a little strange to me; when idle, it looked like any other simple black table, round and elegant - if simplistic. It was only when I approached it that it became active, filling the air before its comfortable seat - sized even to fit my own tremendous body - with information and options, all far more easily activated than the point-and-click interfaces I'd grown up with, and my brain - on some level - still expected.

The bulk of our work was rote; artificial intelligence, despite the best of Wren's efforts, was still a pipe dream. They were starting to say it was logically impossible. Wren's brilliantly designed control cores, riding around in Sasha's drones, made brilliantly stupid decisions on a daily basis... someone had to babysit the things constantly. There were messages awaiting a response, mostly from my children, asking for advice or instructions on one matter or another - mostly pertaining to the Elysium enterprise or one of our other ventures.

Sasha padded out lightly from the bedroom, wearing only the shirt I'd discarded late last night. Her hair was a complete mess, and she had an expression like she couldn't decide if she was hung over or simply pissed off. She found the kitchen and looked through the fridge briefly; I lost myself again in numbers and decisions, until she abruptly plopped herself down on my lap, freshly peeled banana in hand.

I paused for a few moments, welcoming anew the visit of a warm female body against mine. Sasha's short, curly black hair was the most immediate distinction from Wren that she had; their eyes were nearly the same deep blue color, their faces the same chiseled, angular, and lovely shape, and they were the same height to within a half-inch. I didn't even go shopping for a particular match to Wren; it just happened that Sasha was strikingly similar to her arch-nemesis-lover.

She said nothing, only tapping up an unused section of the desk's screens for her own work. She nibbled on the banana quietly, facing to the side and focusing on her work as she sat on my lap. I returned my attention to my work as well, save for having to reach around her body. It was a bit awkward, but not unwelcome.

There was no way, of course, she wouldn't notice my erection increasing again - it was just under her ass. I was easily big enough to make a noticeable change in the shape of her seat, and I could see her giving me a sidelong, smoky glance from time to time as she just let my desire simmer. We'd fuck, of course; it might be in the next few minutes, or maybe in a couple hours. The nearly-as-fun part was how exactly we got there.