by John Gold
“Oh, you poor guy! No, you need an even hundred thousand. What, don’t have enough for all the black caviar you want? That’s enough money for six months living however you want! But if you decide to sell it, let me know, and I’ll find you a good price and a buyer.”
“I don’t want to sell it, but I may need the money. Look how beautiful it is! I love the pulsing and shimmering.”
Femida looks closer at the rock, turning it over in her hands.
“There’s nothing shimmering. What are you talking about?” Femida looks me in the eye. “Sagie, your pupils are different sizes—one’s bigger than the other.”
“My body’s being restored, so that’s fine.” I take the stone back and look down at the pulsing inner light. Although…where did it go? There’s no light, not to mention the red shimmering. Am I hallucinating? Suddenly, I can’t feel my left arm, and it drops limply to my side. Soon, the whole left side of my body starts twitching unnaturally. It’s like someone is beating on my nerves.
“Fem, something’s wrong.” I collapse onto the ground and curl up into a ball. I’m wracked by convulsions, the rock falls out of my right hand, I grasp my chest frantically, and my vision fades. LJ appears out of the darkness, and he’s really worried by what’s going on.
Femida yells something, though her voice is lost in the gloom.
***
Eliza Donovan was on her way to a meeting with Mrs. Full, Angie Ganet’s former psychologist.
Her ship docked at the science department’s special port, where it was waiting in quarantine. The station’s superior ArtIn had given her permission to have their conversation in a specially prepared room on the infected ship.
The room was split into two halves separated by a powerful force field that killed all bacteria, though it smelled fairly unpleasant. Mrs. Full herself had some new plants she was tending to. Even the arrival of a visitor wasn’t enough to pull her away from them.
“Good afternoon, Miss Donovan. As you can see, our conversation will have to happen within the constraints of the quarantine. I hope that won’t bother you?”
“No, of course not. I’m more surprised by your age and what you’re doing with it.”
Mrs. Full looked like a mature woman in the final Anji recordings, and she looked positively old then. Given her status and the contribution she’d made to science, she could have easily gotten the rejuvenation procedure done for free. The second odd part was the thing she was doing right then. Why would a psychologist with a scientific degree be digging in the dirt like some kind of colonist?
“A very long time ago, when I was as young as you are now, I wrote my dissertation on comparative psychology and the differing behavior of people across generations. It looked at differences in technology, culture, and civilizational level to see how they impact public order. For example, there’s the issue of how getting pregnant and getting married is looked at differently depending on age. Little girls dream of macho men and princes. Older girls want a man with money. Women want a man with a house, and not just a man to stand beside them. Older women want a firm masculine shoulder to lean on. I wrote that dissertation almost a hundred years ago, back when Lunar still hadn’t invented the rejuvenation procedure. Ignore the fact that I’m working with the soil. I’m still a scientist, still a psychologist, and I’m currently reworking my dissertation. Culture has changed, and the invention of rejuvenation rendered my analysis of people and their coexistence across generations obsolete. Right now, I’m working on analyzing people of different physical ages with a variety of experiences. Society doesn’t recognize that everyday life is changing because of rejuvenation. A twenty-year-old boy can live with a girl who’s actually a hundred without ever knowing the difference, and that’s a cultural phenomenon I’m glad I can study. People subconsciously accept the wisdom they’re given from people their own age much more than they would from someone older.”
The older woman paused before continuing. “To take the same example of the inexperienced boy and the older, experienced woman, the difference can bear really good fruit. The boy grows into a man who takes responsibility for his actions and for the people near him—his parents, his life partner, his children, his subordinates. Accepting responsibility for someone is an important step, and it’s the only way boys become men and girls become women. Miss Donovan, there’s no need to smile. Kids can start having sex at any age they want, and that doesn’t make them men, women, life partners, or more intentional about the way they live their lives. But! If the boy or girl finds a more experienced partner who’s the same age as them, they get through that transitional period faster. Experienced partners instill values, one of which is responsibility for loved ones.”
“What does that have to do with farming and colonization? What do you need that for? You’re a first-level station citizen!”
“You don’t have the experience you need to really understand my position. People are much easier to understand when you talk with them in the context of their everyday lives, and not during an appointment in virtual reality. Anyway, what did you want, Miss Donovan?”
“Anji Ganet, your patient eleven years ago. According to the report, you labeled him a socially unadapted and potentially dangerous patient. He died from a stroke six years ago, so talking to me about him isn’t a crime.”
“Ah, silly Anji. I remember that case. That year, we were studying how to identify special abilities in children at a young age. The boy was a rare case at the colony, though his unwillingness to listen to adults and the isolation he put himself in forced us to lump him in with the socially unadapted group.”
“By rare, do you mean genius?”
The old lady put down her trowel and smiled widely.
“No. At least, not quite. What do you know about eidetism?”
“Photographic memory, occurs exceptionally rarely. Are you trying to tell me that that’s what Anji had?”
The old lady sat down on the other side of the force field. A smile played in the deep wrinkles creasing her face, the face of someone whose intelligence had not suffered with age.
“I was only definitively able to establish that he could recall absolutely everything he read. In the heat of the moment, however, he could recall exactly what someone had said a week before. He could describe every detail of a fight that had taken place a month prior. The key to unlocking those images were emotional sparks, tactile associations, sounds, really everything. When the boy stopped talking, I was the one who sent him to see other psychologists.”
Eliza grinned.
“What’s so funny? This is usually where people either praise or feel sorry for the patient, or at least criticize me for failing at my job as a psychologist.”
“When Anji was thirteen, he could have gotten his basic diploma and professional certificates, but he deliberately refused. Why didn’t you write anything about eidetism in his file?”
The old lady frowned at the unpleasant question.
“The study wasn’t official, and even the superior ArtIn wouldn’t give you all the information about that period. I’m only telling you this because the boy died. We tried a number of different experiments with problem children from different orphanages to see what would stimulate their brains, but Anji Ganet neither had a photographic memory nor developed one after the experiments. The results let us look at the development potential of each child, their raw abilities, and recommended growth paths. We were able to develop a method for identifying strengths—the areas they could have success in as future specialists. During the tests, the boy did not demonstrate a high intellectual level. He just read quietly or sat there thinking, doing nothing to manifest himself as part of the group, though he was willing to mix it up when the other kids got on his nerves. Nothing about the group or its interests mattered to him. Early development tests pointed to high-functioning autism, though we didn’t pay much attention to that since it’s something thirty percent of adult humans have had since the digital age. Just like the o
ther kids in the experiments, he had a hard time fitting in at his orphanage, both before and after. I know about his work at the space port, and also about the bleeding and his hospitalization. Believe me, our experiments had nothing to do with any of it. The children were all under the supervision of the station’s superior ArtIn, and there were no deviations noted. His academic success is unrelated to the work we did.”
“What was the point of the experiment? Why did you use the kids like that?”
“We wanted to identify potential before the formation of the personal identity. We were able to develop a way of identifying potential, sort of a way to see if a child is a genius.”
“Did Anji fit into that category?”
“No. He wasn’t a genius, and he wasn’t even that smart. He was just one of the kids at his orphanage, like any other. Twenty-six different medications found nothing, and then they were completely filtered out of his body. There were no structural deviations in his body or the way his brain worked, and his psyche was untouched. The only side effect was the boy’s accelerated maturation. The only one!”
“In that case, how do you explain his academic success?”
“Miss Donovan, again, our experiment enabled us to look at potential; it didn’t do anything to change existing intellectual ability. Whatever the reason is, it has nothing to do with what we did.”
Moro, the ArtIn, recorded the whole conversation on a secure disc in Eliza’s purse.
***
I thought I’d already been through Hell, but I was wrong. Hell isn’t where you suffer endlessly, where devils boil you alive or torture you with hot rods, where the souls of sinners are tormented with cold, hunger, fire, and parasites. My entire life has been one long string of suffering interrupted by short flashes of light in the darkness. There was the nursery with the bigoted nanny, the orphanage with the mean kids and the supervisor padding his modest pension. My work at the space port in Galboa’s brigade, my games with Finx, and the talks we had were bits of happiness set against a backdrop of constant fighting at the orphanage. Then, there was the moment of joy with my family, my caring mother and my strong father. That was followed by Hell, and constant pain for a year and a half. And for what? Just to find out that my friends betrayed me, and my parents were hurt because I couldn’t help them? Just to find out how weak and insignificant I am? Again, there was pain: two and a half months of wild impotence and hope placed in another person, a weak girl. However brave and intelligent Femida may be, she’s still just a woman.
But then again, there was happiness—my family was whole and healthy. They were able to find a corner of the world, and they always believed that I would find them. I gained a little sister, a wonderful miracle of life. The feeling you get when you have someone new to love and a life you’re responsible for is indescribable. There was mama, father, little Rosie…and pain again.
My past stabbed me in the back, as if I hadn’t been through enough. How could anyone even think of killing my parents? Why? I don’t understand people. Why would anyone kill someone who’s done nothing to them? Why kill someone who forgave you? It all just hurts so much. Then, LJ was born. He’s like an animal who just lives his life and searches for love. His faith in people, openness, and kindness is unlimited, not to mention his appreciation for any good deed done to him. He loves people regardless of the pain we’ve been through. When your heart hurts, feel your way through the pain and keep going. You can’t bury it deep in your soul, otherwise it will end up eating you alive.
LJ loves people and believes there’s a reason for everything they do. He says nothing, just senses the relationships he has with people and their actions. As long as there’s one person you care about in the world, you have a reason to live. You have something to believe in. That, really, is LJ’s entire philosophy. But what happens when your faith in people is shattered?
What’s going to happen to me?
The only person I can trust anywhere is Femida. I crossed half the world and broke into a prison for her, and she’s followed me everywhere without asking a single question. But here I am.
I see my whole life as if it’s one of those old movies, only movies don’t convey all the pain, all the suffering, or all the humiliation. They don’t make you remember the worry. But that’s neither here nor there.
I see myself getting hit, and my memory tells me that’s the first time I broke a finger. How scary it was to hide from the other kids in the heat conductor pipe. How my heart jumped into my throat, how sweat dripped from me in the unbearable heat. My broken finger wobbled from side to side, the shock keeping me from feeling the pain. But even that wasn’t Hell.
There was the pain I felt when I saw my parents die. When Rosie’s body flew through the air above me.
The bloody world and Talamei’s white skull did nothing—it’s in those moments that I sense LJ. He takes the pain for me.
Hell.
My first day in the game, the taste of mama’s porridge. Her grumbling about me not cleaning up after myself, the smell of father’s tobacco. His worn clothing, his short stubble, the wrinkles on his face, the fishing rod, the way we fished together—that’s my Hell.
Again and again, I relive those moments. Each time, the memory cuts deeply. I remember how mama’s food tastes, how father smokes out on the porch when nobody can see him. I remember them worried about me at the tournament—how much they loved me. I even remember father beating me, I remember crying, and those memories are the most dear and valuable I have. Everything ends with the smile on mama’s face as she holds my sister in her arms. They’re standing in the doorway of our house on Feng Island.
***
Figiraldina Elmaro crawled out of her med capsule and headed to the shower to wash off the solution. Her parents had her older brothers over, and Fiji didn’t want to get in the way of the conversation they were enjoying.
Her mother carried a tray of food into the room and opened the panoramic window in the ceiling. Earth, the blue planet, the cradle of humanity was right there in all its grandeur. For the last three years, Fiji had walked around with a scowl on her face, unwilling to talk about Project Chrysalis. Something unpleasant had happened.
When she stepped out of the shower, she saw the bowl of hot soup on the table. The voices of the Elmaro men hotly debating something wafted in from the kitchen.
“What are they being so loud for? Did they lose the battle again?”
“What’s that tone for? What happened?”
Sitting down at the table and looking up at Earth, the girl took a deep breath.
“Mom, Sagie’s been missing for a month in his tree in the astral. It grows faster than I can cut it down, and that isn’t even the worst part. Isaac lost his mind. It began when he and Slender started playing hide and seek, but then they moved on to chasing each other around. When Slender got tired of the game, Isaac won. They’re hanging animal corpses on the trees together now.”
“What animal corpses? You’re in the astral.”
“When Sagie shut off, the plants around him started growing like crazy. An hour later, an enormous tree sprouted right where he was lying. Our island started growing, too—it’s several kilometers across now. And the tree everything started from just keeps getting bigger and bigger. We’ve been in the astral for nine months already.”
“What’s the problem? You told me yourself that Sagie is regenerating his body, and that’s a pretty long process as far as I know.”
“Dangerous, too, and it ended three weeks ago. Until he wakes up or leaves the astral on his own, they can’t force him out of the game. That’s the main problem with being in the astral. Also, I made a stupid mistake, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen next.”
“Fiji, what did you do?”
“Sagie goes beyond normal, even rational behavior. When we were in the ship on the way to the resort, I tried to introduce another way of control to make things a little more predictable. He didn’t just refuse; he let me know that he thin
ks on a completely different level. I’m not good enough to predict his behavior. Mom, I–”
“Trust your intuition.”
“But he–”
“Trust your intuition. Your brain works faster than your consciousness, and it accounts for factors and data that you don’t. You’re just learning how to use it now, so don’t worry. The skills you have, your abilities, and the art of leveraging them are all just developing. Difficulty doesn’t mean you’re at the limit of what you can do. Experience is the great healer, and you know very well how abilities expand.”
Fiji sighed deeply. The stress faded away, and her thoughts fell back into their usual order.
“Fiji, the astral dulls your senses, forcing you to work exclusively with your mind. It isn’t a good idea to stay there that long.”
The girl and her mother looked out the panoramic window. Somewhere up there on Earth, a boy in a med capsule hadn’t woken up for a whole month.
***
The crown of the tree parts, and my frail body falls out of it. My head is spinning, my arms and legs aren’t doing what I tell them to, and I can barely control my streams of consciousness. I almost puke, only there’s nothing in my stomach—a fact that it reminds me of instantly.
Debuff received: Severe exhaustion, critical condition
You haven’t eaten for a long time. Find something soon, otherwise you’ll die of hunger.
Effect: -70% to all attributes, double effect to your strength
It’s a strange feeling when your whole body tingles as if there’s a god standing right next to you. Only there’s nobody there, and I don’t even know where I am. Why is there a forest around me? Where did the sky and those little animals come from? Slender is hiding in the shadow of the tree. That parasite hasn’t gone anywhere in… How long has it been?
My time panel tells me that it’s been thirty-nine days since my body restoration began. It’s been thirty days since the process completed.
