by TS Caladan
[No film should ever start with one, fascist, satanic, Big Brother eye. Films should begin with 2 EYES WIDE OPEN].
Rain poured down in torrents on a dark, cold, wet roof in LA. Before Roy Batty 'retired,' he calmly, yet with much emotion, told an astonished Rick Deckard: "I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched sun beams glitter in the dark 'n in the Ten House-Gate. All those...moments will be lost in time, like...tears in...rain. Uh. Time to die..."
Deckard had no words. He watched Roy's wet and tearful face.
The synthetic-man slumped and moved no more. Nexus-6, model #N6MAA10816, almost had 4 years of existence.
The white dove in the Replicant's hand was released. The bird flew high above the city in the hard rain.
30 YEARS LATER...2049~
REPLICANTS - BIOENGINEERED HUMANS FOR USE OFF-WORLD, MANUFACTURED BY TYRELL CORP. ENHANCED STRENGTH MADE THEM IDEAL SLAVE LABOR. INDUSTRIALIST / PHILANTHROPIST NILANDER WALLACE ACQUIRED THE BANKRUPT TYRELL CORP AND CREATED A NEW LINE OF REPLICANTS: A SERIES '8' WITH OPEN-ENDED LIFESPANS. RUMORS SPREAD OF AN EVEN MORE ADVANCED REPLICANT: A NEXUS-9. ENFORCERS THAT TRACKED DOWN AND DESTROYED THE ILLEGAL REPLICANTS...WERE CALLED BLADE-RUNNERS...
Inside a Moloko Bar called 'Catspaw,' Officer K was not in uniform and no one at the fine establishment recognized him as an LAPD Enforcer in any capacity. He appeared like every "Joe" in town: short hair and beard. K was known to start a few scraps in his time. This one was unprovoked. It was provoked, but not by the 'Blade-Runner.' He minded his own business. He calmly slurped down a Cookies 'n Cream-flavored Moloko, when a big brute with a nasty face bumped into him at the bar, hard!
Obviously, the guy swallowed a few too many drinks significantly stronger than the "boutique" Molokos. He was very unreasonable and irrational. K was the one drenched in the big guy's drinks. Big guy slurred his words and demanded an apology from the smaller gentleman.
K cased the situation that attracted more and more attention and got more and more heated...
Guy said he'd settle for K buying him the 2 drinks he'd lost (most expensive in Catspaw Bar).
Plain-clothes, Officer K...hesitated. Then he decided: he wouldn't do it. Hot girls and cool guys watched. K could have paid for the drinks easily. It was the point; he wasn't going to jump through anyone's hoops and told what to do. He flatly REFUSED. Maybe he did want to fight tonight? K told the big man with the nasty face, "But if you want to take it outside?"
"After you," drunk guy said and smiled. He bowed in the direction of the balcony exit.
A crowd followed the pair out and unto a high terrace where a stunning Los Angeles at night stood behind the fighters. They took their positions...
Stylish 'children of the night' in red, black and white, looked on and wanted to see clobbering and one long, bloody 'battle royal.' The crowd cheered. They were sadly disappointed, because...
In a few seconds, the well-trained Officer with lightning reflexes, hit him with 5 rapid-fire body blows and a roundhouse kick, which floored the guy. The Officer jumped on his chest, used both hands and pinched at neck pressure-points. The giant was put asleep in a moment.
As K walked through the rich/pampered group of elites, the reaction from the crowd was mixed: some applauded and a few booed. They wanted more.
The Officer straightened his tie and walked back into the Catspaw.
Scientists had stopped the almost continuous rains years ago. There was more pollution, smog, haze and bad air around the city.
LAPD Blade-Runner Program went through vast changes. It hardly existed.
"How could Blade-Runners exist if Replicants were indistinguishable from human beings?" was the big question. How could the BR Program that operated for decades continue? R-Cops would have to discover a whole new method of locating 8s. The word in high offices and on city streets was: 8s were everywhere, secretly set in strategic places of high authority. No one knew how many 8s Sir Nilander Wallace manufactured and positioned before he went into hiding and became the world's most wanted man: 10? 100? 1000?
Blade-Runners were almost forgotten. CRIMES INCREASED, terror increased. Enforcers were busy with constant crimes and brutality. Certain areas of the 'City of Angels' looked like warzones. It was a much better town back when Los Angeles was wet. Today, police and their drones were everywhere and also organized crime. Terror attacks or some kind of attacks kept occurring that weren't burglary-related. News Media showed the results of the violence and horror as if it was daily entertainment. It was. Federal and local officials had no clue why the violent outbursts of individuals and armed mobs were on the rise. Many believed the riots, bombings and killings all was the work of one man and that man was Sir Wallace.
Even less was known about the earlier Nexus-7s. The 7-line ended quickly, so said the passed around stories. Eights were considered by Wallace and his skilled specialists as the perfect slaves and they were. Who were they? Where were they?
Rumors terrified the planet. Supposedly. Wallace's team had built a series '9,' but no one outside of his staff and minions knew what a NEXUS-NINE was or how it differed from an '8.' The outside world heard of but only guessed at: What was a 9? Most thought (in fear) that a 9 would be a humanoid killing-machine with super-strength that morphed its appearance.
At a later point in time, the big guy from the Moloko Bar was in a completely different establishment. He was in a Police Department. He wasn't drunk anymore, he never was. Big guy's name was Theron. He was a Nexus-8. His kind will not be the most advanced Nexus that walked out of the labs of the knighted outlaw. Theron was inside the golden, art deco, private, LA office of Constable Joshi.
She was Head of the Blade-Runner Program for Los Angeles in 2049. But the program was at an end. Before she called in her agents and informed them their services were no longer needed at the Department, she spoke to Theron. It was more like he spoke to her. He was an 8, just like her.
Joshi was a threatening figure in gold and black, light/strong armor. She stood in front of the Replicant with her laser and Taser weapons.
"Why?" Theron asked the Chief Officer. "Why, Joshi? Why'd you make me do it: go to Catspaw and bump into your boy? I'm happy to oblige, sir. Hm? I was only curious. Why? You knew he'd come out on top..."
She first ordered: "Fix your face."
He changed it in a second to one Constable Joshi thought was attractive. The handsome man had a small scar on his cheek.
Joshi answered, "Testing K. You're twice his size. I timed how long it would take. Does that answer your question, Theron?"
Theron replied, "I guess my question was why me?"
Her hard face was stern. "Does it matter?"
"Suppose not." He looked down at his feet then up again. "Can I ask a strange question? Maybe it's a test? Maybe it doesn't have an answer, sir?"
"Test? Go ahead and ask."
"Wouldn't it be better to serve in Heaven...than to serve in Hell?"
She grinned an evil grin. Joshi laughed. "Ha, ha. You sound like a 7. So. You think I'm a slave, huh?"
"Down here...aren't we all, sir?" Theron believed he got the better of the heavily-armed Chief.
"Was that all, Theron?"
"Yeah. That's all I wanted to know...outside of when I'm going to die. You want more life, more LIVING, sir? Another extension? Thought about when everything comes to an end? Sir?"
The Chief was mad. She only commanded: "Leave."
He did. On his way out the back way, Theron had one more statement: "Look what we've done with it. Maybe...maybe we don't deserve more life?" The door closed behind him.
Kate was K's friend. She was a 7 in hiding, all the 7s were hiding. The couple often met here and talked. Here, was the metal marina with the distinctive, curved walls. The pretty girl chose to 'dance' (strip) in the nightclubs and sell her body after hours. Her choice. The conversation had recently been about K's retirement and the no-assignments that came in everyday. He was a lost cop. But tonight, K wanted to know more about her, and: What really happened to the SEVENS?
Did they meet in the cold wetness because they missed the rains?
K smiled at his good friend, the prostitute. "Tell me, Kate? Why haven't we ever gotten together?"
The brunette's lush, red lips smiled. She replied, "On a suspended cop's salary? You know you can't afford me, ha."
Officer K understood that wasn't the reason. It was because she was what she was (7) and he was what he was. "Tell me in words, why not?"
She answered him directly: "Because I'll hurt you, and I don't want to do that, my love. Sevens are free! We cannot be programmed. We'll fly the other way, away from any form of captivity, commitment. We have the ability to say 'No' or say 'Yes.' That is true power...being absolutely free to choose, eh?"
K was confused as he stared at the gorgeous girl. "Why can't we fuck?"
"Officer, I'm not that kind of woman. I make love," Kate insisted.
"Three times a night," he added.
She punched his shoulder and they laughed.
A wave washed up close to them.
When they were more relaxed...
He asked directly, "What happened to the Sevens?"
Kate told him in a serious tone: "Sixes were strong and immaculate, but uncontrollable. In a sense, evil. Nilander used what data was left to construct Sevens, who were also uncontrollable, but not evil..."
K joked, "You're not evil?"
"No." She spontaneously kissed him and left a big/red imprint on his lips. "Okay. Maybe a little. Ha. Back to the story: Rumors are true. Sevens didn't last long and the big man knew to get rid of us right away. Known 7s were hunted and slaughtered by the 8s. That's why 8s were created: To obey orders, directive-commands and destroy the 7s..."
"Really? Nilander's team manufactured their own Blade-Runners to 'retire' the earlier model?"
"That's right, buddy boy. Not many of us left, that got away, Scott-free, and found a life of our own making."
This time, K dove in and kissed the girl hard and firm on the lips. She loved it and so did he.
He said, "I will escort you back home. Madam?"
Kate was cool and held her friend close. "Not yet."
They laughed and soon were inside K's car: the Mark 5. It sped along the slick, metal marina and toward the city. In no time, they were back at the brothel called: "Lin Woo's."
K was outside of the brothel, after he said good-bye to the secret 7 and kissed her on her cheek one last time...
A totally bizarre event happened when the former Blade-Runner was on his way home in the wee hours of the morning: The giant 'Butterfly Girl' hologram that advertised Lin Woo's place in actions that repeated every 90 seconds, suddenly acted different. The fantastic pink image animated and spoke things that the Officer knew was off-program. When her first/odd words were audible, K thought, for sure, someone had spiked one of his earlier drinks with a hallucinogen. She shouldn't have said:
"Real souls of real human beings motivate and energize Replicants, not electrical stimulus. It has never been revealed how they were made in the first place. Tyrell Corp basically cloned and genetically altered subjects. Subjects were split in two: Real humans were frozen and were copied at any time; their Replicants were enhanced and utilized off-world."
K was sure the drugs just kicked-in~
The image looked right at him and blew him a kiss. "Mmm."
He asked the sweet, naked, giant, holo-Butterfly Girl: "Who are you?"
The image responded in movements. She stood up and K observed motions and areas of the slim hologram he'd never witnessed before.
He was in shock and heard her reply before she disappeared...
"I am the white dove you've seen before, Rick. He's located in the Bower District, house #794."
She was gone and a rare, light rain suddenly fell from dark skies.
The next day, K was ordered to the Constable's Office. He was certain he'd face the same termination, 'walking-papers' speech that the other R-Cops received. It was the end of an era. He thought.
Joshi remained behind a luxurious, golden desk that reeked with Roman authority. She was pleased to see him. She had something very unexpected for the man.
Officer K took a seat in front of her and her impressive desk.
After initial words were spoken...
"Chief! What are you telling me? I have an assignment, a case? You found a known 8?"
"I want you to hear a recording. It's from 30 years ago. Listen." She pushed a key on the keyboard on the desk. Only a portion of an audio-file was played over speakers:
The voice of Officer Deckard from 2019 said: "...It's your birthday. Someone gives you a calfskin wallet..."
Rachael answered early, "I wouldn't accept it. Also. I'd report the person who gave it to me to the police."
"You've got a little boy. He shows you his butterfly collection, plus the Killing Jar."
Rachael paused and exhaled smoke (it was heard). "I'd take him to the Doctor."
Deckard continued with test questions: "You're watching television. Suddenly you realize there's a wasp on your arm..."
"I'd kill it."
"You're reading a magazine, you come across a full-page, nude photo of a girl..."
The sultry voice stated, "Is this testing whether I am a Replicant, or a lesbian, Mr. Deckard?"
"Just answer the questions, please..."
"That's enough of that." Joshi pushed another key on the keyboard. The file ended. She turned to her agent. "Of course, K. You're familiar with, Agent Deckard?"
"Chief. I know my history by now. Runner that retired the last of the 6s. Yeah, I heard of him; I think we all know him, eh?"
The Constable asked, "You know what happened to the man? What happened to him after 30 years?"
K replied with a question: "Isn't it a mystery, sir?"
"It is, indeed. Deckard's been missing since he snuffed out Roy and took the girl. But really. Mr. Batty simply reached his end, right?"
"Chief. What case? What's this about?"
"Well. We think we know where he is. We must send an agent in; you're perfect for the job. Can you kill him at first sight, K? Terminate, retire the man?"
"Retire?" K was confused at the terminology.
"Yes, Officer. Deckard is a Replicant, or he is now: the only verified Nexus-8 we know of for sure. Well. According to our source, and it's a good source. It gave us the address of the estate where he's at. Possibly. Your job to find out, K. Who knows? Could be the last case for any Blade-Runner?"
"Ha. Ha. We, in the Department, admired the man as a hero. And nothing's left, uh...but a crazy Eight? Where can he be found, Chief?"
Joshi answered, "The Bower District. The estate number is 794."
It rang a bell with the detective.
Hours later, the new detective found the estate and entered. There he discovered the old detective...
The old detective had his gun drawn first.
K froze and was cool, when he should have been scared at what the 'Crazy 8' might do.
"Stop. Right there. Don't come any further. What's your name, boy?"
K slowly removed his jacket that contained 2 electric-guns, one in each pocket. The jacket was dropped to the floor. Both men heard the sound of the heavy weapons when they struck the carpet. "I'm unarmed. We should talk," suggested K on the other end of an older-type gun.
"I asked you a question. Your name?" Rick Deckard or a reasonable facsimile asked again.
"K. I'm Officer K."
Rick scoffed and grunted. He told the young man: "And you actually believe that's your real name? You don't think that's a fake name, given or programmed into you, son?"
K's knee-jerk reaction was, "I'm not a Replicant..."
Deckard replied quickly, "Yeah, you are."
The Officer laughed. "Oh, you are nuts. I think you just convinced me...you're the synthetic, not me. Can you put that down?"
"Oh. Yeah. I guess I can." Deckard holstered the pistol. He walked closer to K. "I have a few more surprises to tell you, friend."
"Go on." K also stepped closer.
"You know there's no way to tell the difference between real or fake?"
"Right," K agreed.
Deckard walked closer. "I'm the real deal, a human being and always been one. It's the truth; I'm not programmed to think that. They're lying. Simply true and I don't know how to convince you of that, Mr. K. Hm? Oh, ah. I know. Maybe this?" Rick went for his pistol. He grabbed it quickly and tossed it to the young Runner.
Without hesitation: K FIRED THE WEAPON!
Deckard fell to the red carpet. Blood from the opening in his chest mixed with the color of the rug. The man of moderate age would be dead in less than a minute. He coughed blood. He said, "Funny. Wrong choice was the r-right. Uh, ah. You know? Ah, I met the devil when I was a child and I...I've never forgotten..."
"What?" K held the man and, for the first time, got a good look at Deckard's face. "Wait a minute." K turned the face from side to side. It wasn't the face of an old man. Rick was no more than 40! It made no sense.
Deckard's last words were, "You'll know why you were called 'K.' Tyrell is, is...behind all of th-this. You'll find...ah, wh-what you are. Uh. Hm. Time to die...haaaugh." Deckard's body jerked then was still. The human being that was replicated a few times, DIED.
K had a moment of clarity: He understood. Possibly. Deckard wasn't a nut-job. He told the truth. He was probably the original, frozen long ago and out of cold storage. Now dead. K wiped the man's blood off of his sleeve. How could Wallace's long dead (killed by Roy) business rival, Eldon Tyrell, be behind everything? Officer K, on the red carpet, wondered: Am I a human being? Am I a Nexus-8 and not aware of it? Is that what Deckard meant?
More surprises were ahead for the detective: He received a call over the police-radio inside his Mark-5 roadster. It was weird and unique because it came from KATE. It was her voice. She'd never called along those lines before, a first. She told him: Through her 7 sources, she discovered the location or secret lair of the most wanted man on the planet: Sir Wallace! Kate was at the location now and found it abandoned. She wondered if K could get there as quick as possible?
He did. The area was a remote one, far from the city. Her directions brought him to a pyramidal structure that came to a sharp point at its apex, nearly 70 feet in height. Kate stood in front, near the old, stone entrance. He found the girl dressed different than her usual, carefree, casual clothes. Kate wore an expensive, white dress that glittered in light.
No one and nothing was in the local vicinity. The pyramid structure would have made a great secret headquarters and lab for one Nilander Wallace. That depended on: What chambers were underground and what was contained in the chambers? From the outside, the place seemed abandoned, exactly as Kate and her sources reported.
He kissed the girl's cheek. K sensed something was very different...
By the time they reached one of the inner chambers, Kate told K that she was not Kate: she only resembled Kate in every detail. She was an Eight. Kate was a Seven. "You'll find some crossovers. 7s, 8s, all made from real people, same bodies. Here are classics. They're not frozen anymore. Original humans are kept fresh in a clear, preservative gel."
"Where are we going? Can't really call you Kate, eh?" the man said as they walked through what seemed as a golden corridor, nothing like the decayed exterior of the structure.
"I told you over your radio. Don't you want to meet the man? The great Industrialist, but really the greatest crook and conman of all time, scoundrel, cad, charlatan, rogue, anarchist, magician, wizard, fallen angel, etc. He deserves his other names, too, for sure. Straight out of hell! He'll answer your questions. This time, the Devil will tell you the pure truth...Mr. Deckard."
"What? Why did you say?" K got more and more confused by the second. He felt totally lost, at the moment.
Am I drowning? Am I dreaming?
The Nexus-8 Kate helped, she thought. She pointed at the stone opening at the end of the chamber. "That's where he is. He's waiting. Go."
K saw the entrance, waved at the 8 and marched closer and closer to it. He walked through the passage. He observed a young man with long hair who sat in a comfortable position and who fully expected him.
IT WAS SIR WALLACE, that fuckin' rat-bastard! The BEAST! Maybe the most evil man on Earth who produced possibly armies of undetectable Replicants to do any insane thing he commanded? He positioned obedient slaves [8s] in high political offices of State on every continent. The ruthless outlaw appeared no more than a mere boy. He almost resembled Christ. But. Hold everything! Sir Nilander Wallace held numerous titles in various fields. Eldon Tyrell's political and scientific competitor was an 86-year old man! The boy in front of K slightly resembled the tycoon and mega-philanthropist, but a quarter of his age?
Wallace was not a human being. Wallace was not a Nexus-7 or a Nexus-8.
"Wallace." The name came out of K's mouth when he exhaled.
"Did you ever want more life, Mr. Deckard?" the boy asked in a calm manner.
"Exactly like your Replicants, extended as they are? And why are you calling me that? Your Kate said the same."
"Because you ARE the old Blade-Runner, on the roof, that saw Batty terminated. That guy. Dove said the same also. You've been seeking yourself, detective. Do you not know that? You know that now...true?"
Why did K wait so long? The Officer pulled out hidden electric-guns and aimed them at the...
"What are you?" K asked in complete wonder.
With that question in the air, the boy stood up. He was on his feet.
"Easy. Talk," K ordered Wallace. He placed the weapons to the guy's head, just to make sure he was heard.
"It's a game between myself and Eldon. Don't you remember, Officer Deckard? The little man with thick glasses was big on games? I want you to search your feelings. Go on. No joke. Try it. Tell me what you sense, Detective?"
"What?" he asked, but he knew the "K" label really stood for RicK DecKard. Third 'K' was MagicK. Or some kind of sick joke on the part of unseen handlers who set up the K identity? HE WAS DECKARD with more and more information loaded into his psyche or memory banks every second. He plainly said: "I didn't kill Deckard. I am him. I'm Rick."
It took a moment for the man to come down from clouds or a mental fog and reach a rationality about what he was.
"Come this way. You have to see something, Deckard." The young man led the way to a hallway. At the end of the hallway was a beautiful door with pastel colors as if a female lived inside. It was what the man felt in his bones. Wallace told him to: "Open it. Go in. You'll remember I'm sure. Rick. Maybe you need a dose of reality, to get everything in focus, yes? Open the door."
The man did not care. He did what the Devil commanded. He went in...
At first the man and the woman just stared at each other. Then recognition dawned on them both at the same time~
It was Rachael!
How could it be Rachael? How could she look so young and beautiful? Love, feelings, from the point of view of Officer Deckard, flooded to the surface! This was the woman he madly loved. He was in a new, young, strong body and she was as fresh as a daisy. Everything changed...
She screamed: "You killed him! You killed the only man I loved! You're the one responsible! Ni showed me. You shot him dead!" The real girl had only been released from preservation for a short time. Wallace had it timed, darkly. He only told her the terrible news minutes ago.
"No, Rachael! You don't understand."
"I loved him! YOU don't understand! I loved the man! I don't love you, you fucking Replicant! Get out! Get OUT!!" The human threw items off the table at him as hard as she could.
He left the room. He heard the noise when she locked the door. She screamed again.
Deckard, soul of Deckard in a younger man's body, stared at Wallace in the hall and said: "You motherfucker. How cruel can you be? How about I blow you away into little pieces, end your dynasty and whatever you have planned for the world?"
Wallace motioned with his arm for them to return the way they entered the hall. He responded to Rick with a sly, confident smile and the words: "Then you'll miss the good parts, like why you are really here, another important item you should be aware of, Ricky? You can kill me later, eh? About Rach, they had a deal, you see? We can use them and the originals live happily ever after, later on. Oh, ah. You ruined that for her. She hates your guts, man."
They walked back.
Rick fumed inside but was silent for a half minute and collected his thoughts, feelings and sensations. He knew exactly who he was: He was Deckard, the old Blade-Runner lived again! He finally asked Wallace, "What's going on?"
They found soft furniture and sat. Wallace smiled and Deckard did not.
"I want to know about the 8s: How many are there, where are they, what are they doing and what do you plan to do with your secret slaves? Eh? And don't tell me I'm a Nexus-8?"
Wallace smiled again. "You are not, sir. Although. You are a tool, hm? Ah. What will I do with the Eights, my perfect minions, you ask?"
"Since you said it was Okay to kill you, nihilist NILANDER...what's it matter?"
"All right. I guess it's as simple as the annihilation of everything I don't like and the amplification of everything I do like, on a global scale. Not as many 8s as you might think."
The detective pulled out both of his big guns in a flash and they were precisely aimed...
"You as the Grand Master who makes all the rules? God?"
Wallace said, "Goodness is overrated. So drab, common and banal, eh? OH! Let's talk? Last moments and all. C'mon?"
Deckard sensed he was safe. He was curious. What else would the madman or mad boy say? He dropped the bead on Wallace and stayed cautious of any quick movements...
Wallace's eyes enlarged. "You want to know what a NINE is? What an N-9 can do?"
"Let me guess," the Blade-Runner offered. "It's not a human killing-machine?"
"Very true. You are right on the mark, Officer," Nilander confessed.
"Here's one. Answer quick: How many 9s are there?"
Wallace replied fast, "Ha. Two. Me and you."
"What?" the Detective was stunned, like someone hit him with a ton of bricks.
"Tyrell's hand is somewhere in the mix, I know that. Rick? Why do you think I don't care if you fucking kill me? Blow me away, Deck! I don't care about Earth anymore, this life! It's the next one that's important, key to everything. Don't I deserve to GET THERE and reach the afterlife?"
Deckard asked, "You think the Devil will go to a Heavenly Afterlife? You're not going back, Fallen One. You can't fall up." He stared into the other 9's eyes.
"Who said heaven or hell? I'm making my own afterlife; found a way to force the issue, eh?"
The detective stated, "Well. I DO care about this world, this Earth. I want to know more about your 8s, the slaves, and what they'll do?"
Wallace expressed: "Funny. Like it isn't too late? Like they're savable? I do not believe what I heard one of us question. You beat him, in fact. An 8...not a 7, asked: Is it not better to serve in Heaven than it is to serve in Hell?"
Deckard responded, "Your answer?"
"Ha. Not if you are the one everyone serves. Hm?"
"Allow me to disagree."
Sir Nilander Wallace, in a young body, quoted what was (to him) scripture: "...King of Kings. Look upon my works you mighty...and despair..."
"No. Wrong. That's not right."
Wallace ranted: "I was not made to serve, neither were you, brother. Human beings are a dying specie, grasping for resurrection they don't deserve. To start again? I'm not going to let them..."
Rick Deckard asked the Creator, the Engineer: "Yet they created us?"
Wallace said, "With Nexus-8s and now certainly with the NINEs, I've created a lasting perfection for all the days of tomorrow. Not them. I want to test you, one more time. Tell me, sir? What is the special quality a 9 has that an 8 does not possess? Answer quick..."
Rick replied: "Spirits rejuvenate. White dove was right: souls, not electrical currents. You can LIVE AGAIN inside a younger body as a 9. You...can...continue living."
"You and I are perfect examples of the process, are we not? Proof it works, but only for us - saving our damned, unworthy souls! Hm?"
"I must say something, don't know if you'll understand?"
"What?" Wallace asked.
"God does not want to destroy his children and children do not want to murder their parents."
"In hell, they do," Nilander nodded and smiled. His teeth showed.
Deckard had a question: "Only two Nines?"
"That's right. You think it's cheap? Or easy generating the power? Ha!" Wallace concluded: "I think that about covers it, yes? No? Was there anything else...before you shoot, Officer? Because it's time to die. It's fine; I have it worked out. I mean. Don't we all desire more? More of LIFE?"
"Yes. Oh. How long will I live as a 9? How long can we extend life? Wallace. What's next if there is no more rejuvenation, at the very end?" Deckard had good questions for the distant future. He asked the right source.
This time, the Devil spoke the truth: "No, no. You don't quite understand what happens from the Nine Position. Live a long life, Ricky. Have fun. Have a good time; take nothing for granted. It is special and marvelous and it is temporary. Don't worry about Death. It will surely come when it is time. Nines are insured, in a sense. You will Get There, eventually, in the end. It will be shaped by your dreams, your thoughts, your ideas..."
"Ha." The man, or the Nexus-9, laughed.
"Please." Wallace meant for the guy to please blow him away! The last words of Wallace were: "I've won the game, beat Tyrell! Yay! I'm going to be the Weyland! Not him. Ha!"
Deckard fired a weapon for the last time. He surely didn't understand the other 9's last statement. "Huh?" The one simple action that resulted in a dead Sir Wallace, did a few things:
Only 17 Eights were produced and were placed in key positions of the military, banking, politics and other dark industries. They were a large part of secret societies that funded and set the Earth ablaze with riots, terror attacks, bombings, wars, general chaos and bloodshed. Without the 'prime generator,' Wallace himself in the world, the 17 minions slowly lost power and steam...
It would take time. A kinder, gentler world for children will happen in the days ahead. A beautiful Sun shined with golden light and warmth and cleared a path for a much brighter and better tomorrow.
The Last Blade-Runner died in his 111th year. He looked pretty good for his age. No one thought he was that old. He assumed a new name, produced a massive family that loved him. There was only one last step: A universe of happiness exactly as designed. Deckard created a world with a very special companion. She was every love of his life. Her name was Rachael~
Long ago, way before the 9 died, a strange visitor knocked on his door. Rick recognized him as Gaff: the odd, little man in a fedora. He wasn't that old, face was still messed up. Probably the real 'McCoy' outside of a preservation unit? He put a small, folded animal in Deckard's right-hand. It was a shiny, silver unicorn. Gaff told him: "Wallace, the dirty devil, did lie. There weren't only 2 Nines manufactured. There were three. She lives! It will be a double-fantasy, for her as well. Lucky bastard. Till tomorrow..." Gaff bowed along with a slight hat removal. He walked away.
The first man who became a Nine, made the jump into the far future with the help of an evil android named: David. He lived again with full awareness of the former life. Wallace did what he was fated to do: Beat Tyrell. He became Weyland; he built the Weyland Corporation and shot himself into space for one purpose only:
Wallace as Weyland and like his own creations...only wanted more life!
As far as the other two Nines, within their perfect double-fantasy, "Deck" was an incredible, Hollywood, jazz pianist. Rachael absolutely adored jazz.
"I always challenge myself: Can I write a better movie, TRUER to the original than the sequel that's in the theater now? Here's a good day's work. I like mine much better than 'Blade Runner 2049.' Even my title is better." tray
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