“Hear me out,” Jacob said, raising a hand. “I’m not asking for anything awful. Look, how long are you going to live?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “A long time.”
“A very long time,” he said. “Centuries, at least.”
“Unless something bad happens, yes.”
“And how long have I got left?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Sure you do,” said Jacob. “I no longer suffer from Katerinsky’s syndrome, so I’ve likely got as much time left as any male born in Canada in 2001—another fifty years, if I’m lucky. That’s everything I’ve got left—and it’s nothing to you. You’ll have ten times that amount, a hundred times, maybe more. All I’m asking is you let me live out those fifty years—or less, and it could be a lot less—down on Earth.”
“And—and what about me?”
“You stay here, at this wonderful resort of High Eden.” He looked at me, searching for my reaction. “Spend fifty years having a holiday—Christ, let’s be honest, that’s what we do most of the time anyway, right? It’s like the Vegas strip here, like the best cruise ship ever.” He paused. “Look, I saw some of the trial coverage. I know it’s not going well. Do you want to spend the next x number of years down there fighting legal battles, or do you want to just relax up here, and let all that get sorted out? You know eventually uploads will have full rights of personhood—why not just take a vacation here until that’s the case, then return to Earth triumphant?”
I stared at him, at my … my progenitor. “I don’t want to be unfair to you,” I said slowly, “but …”
“Please,” said the other me, an imploring note in his voice. “It’s not that much to ask, is it? You still get immortality, and I get the handful of decades that I was being cheated out of.”
I looked at Karen. She looked at me. I doubted either of us could read the other’s expression. I turned back to the screen, thinking.
My mother would be happy; she’d never agree to upload herself, of course, not with her belief in souls, but this way she’d have her son back for the remainder of his life. And my father—well, I wasn’t visiting him at all now. Jacob could go back to seeing him, dealing with all the mixed emotions, all the heartbreak, all the guilt. And by the time I returned to Earth, decades hence, my dad would be gone, too. Plus, if flesh-and-blood Jacob returned to Earth, Clamhead would be happy. Even, maybe, Rebecca would be happy.
I opened my artificial lips to reply, but, before I did so, Karen spoke up. “Absolutely not!” she said in that Southern-accented voice of hers. “I’ve got a life down on Earth, and there’s no me left to return to there from here. I’ve got books I want to write, intellectual property I’m going to have to fight to protect, and places I want to go—and I want Jake with me.”
She didn’t indicate me in any way, but the simple use of my name as if there was only one entity it could possibly refer to made the other me frown. I let Karen’s words hang in the air for a moment, then said into the camera, “You heard the lady. No deal.”
“You don’t want to push me,” said Jacob.
“No, I don’t. But I’m not going to keep talking like this, either. I’m coming over to the moonbus to see you. Face to face.” I paused, then, with a nod, added, “Man to man.”
“No,” said the other me. “I won’t let you in.”
“Yes, you will,” I said. “I know you.”
CHAPTER 40
The telescoping Jetway leading to the moonbus was more solid than the ones that connect to airplanes—it had to be air-tight, after all—but the overall appearance was similar. Once I’d reached its end, I was faced with a problem, though. The outer airlock door on the moonbus, set into the moonbus’s silvery white hull, had a window in it, and that was uncovered. But the inner door, on the far side of the little chamber, had its own window, and that one was covered. I wasn’t quite sure how to let the other me know that I’d arrived.
After standing there for half a minute, with what was doubtless a stupid expression on my face, I decided to simply knock on the outer airlock door, hoping the sound would be conducted within.
At last, the covering on the inner window was removed for a moment, and I saw the white-bearded, round face that I’d learned belonged to Brian Hades, the top Immortex official on the moon. I couldn’t hear him, but he spoke to someone—presumably the other me—off to his left, and, a moment later, the outer airlock door clanged open. I stepped in, the outer door closed behind me, and a few seconds later the inner door opened, revealing the flesh-and-blood Jacob Sullivan, with a strange squat gun aimed squarely at where my heart would have been if I’d had one.
“I suppose that’s one solution,” I said, nodding at the gun. “If you get rid of me, there’s no longer an issue about which of us is the real person, is there?”
He hadn’t said anything yet, but the gun wavered a bit in his hand. The two hostages—Brian and a white woman—looked on.
“Still,” I said, “you attended the Immortex sales conference. You must know that anything fired into my chest wouldn’t likely do damage that Dr. Porter and his team couldn’t set right. And my skull is titanium reinforced with a carbon-nanotube mesh. It’s supposed to survive a fall out of an airplane even if the parachute doesn’t open. I’d be mindful of the ricochet if you decide to shoot me in the head.”
Jacob continued to look at me, and then, at last, he relaxed his grip on the gun. “Have a seat,” he said.
“Actually,” I said, “there’s no need for me to sit anymore, since I don’t get tired. So I’d prefer to stand.”
“Well, I’m going to sit down,” he said. He walked down the aisle and took the first of the passenger seats, the one just to the rear of the bulkhead that blocked off the cockpit. He then swiveled the chair around to face me, the gun still in his hand. Brian Hades, who had been looking on anxiously, was sitting in the second-last row, and the female hostage was sitting in another chair, eyes open so wide she looked like an animé character.
“So,” I said, “how are we going to resolve this?”
Jacob replied, “You know me as well as I do. I’m not going to give up.”
I shrugged a little. “I’m just as determined. And I’m in the right; after all, I’m not taking hostages. What you’re doing is wrong. You know that.” I paused. “We can all walk away from this. All you have to do is put down the gun.”
I saw a hopeful expression pass over the woman’s pretty face.
“I intend to put down the gun,” Jacob said. “I intend to let these people go—by the way, Jake, meet Brian Hades and … and …”
“You don’t even remember my name?” said the woman. “You’re ruining my life, and you don’t even remember my name?”
I looked at her, and tried to make my face compassionate. “I’m Jake Sullivan,” I said.
She didn’t reply, and so I prodded: “And you are?”
“Chloë.” She glared at Jacob. “Chloë Hansen.”
Pleased to meet you didn’t seem to be the right response—so I just nodded and turned back to look down on Jacob, seated in his swiveling chair. “Well?” I said.
“Look,” Jacob replied, “I know, down deep, that you agree with me. You believe that biological life is more real. Let me have what I want.”
I frowned. There was no point denying it. He was right; I had believed that. But that had been before I’d uploaded, before I … yes, damn it, yes: before I fell in love with Karen. I felt more alive with her than I’d ever felt. I looked at Jacob, wondering if I could make him understand that. Of course, he’d—I’d—loved Rebecca, but we hadn’t ever allowed that love to blossom, to become a relationship.
“It’s different now,” I said. “My feelings have changed.”
“Then we’re at an impasse.”
“Are we? You will eventually have to sleep.”
He said nothing.
“Besides,” I said, taking just the barest hint of a step forward, “I know your
every weakness.”
He’d been looking down at the floor for a moment—I think he was getting tired—but his head tilted up sharply at that.
“I know your every psychological weakness,” I said.
“They’re your weaknesses, too.”
I nodded slowly. “So you’d think. But you know what I’ve learned, and you haven’t, you poor feckless son of a bitch? I’ve learned that when you’re in love, and someone loves you, you have no weaknesses. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past, it doesn’t matter what you’ve felt in the darkest comers of your mind. Virgil said amor vincit omnia, and he was a pretty bright dead guy: love really does conquer all.”
Suddenly, there was a bleeping sound. “What’s that?” I asked.
“The videophone,” said Jacob, pointing at the wallmounted unit next to the airlock door. “Answer it.”
I went over to the phone, found the answer button, and pressed it.
Smythe’s face appeared on the screen. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “But I think you’ll want to hear this, too. There’s a call coming in from Earth. It’s Deshawn Draper. He says the jury is coming in, and—”
“Not now!” I snapped.
I turned back to Jacob, but I hadn’t broken the connection. Smythe should still be able to hear everything, even if his field of view was limited. “There, Jacob, you see?” I said. “You’ve got my full attention. You’re my number-one priority.” I took a couple of steps toward him, trying to regain the territory I’d lost when I’d had to come back to answer the phone. “Let’s end this peacefully, shall we?”
“Sure,” said Jacob. “Just give me what I want.”
“I can’t. I have my own life. I have Karen.” I didn’t want to be cruel—really, I didn’t. But he’d never seen as clearly as I did now: all the shades, all the colors, all the glory. “Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do with our life back on Earth; you never have. You’ve coasted, living off family money. Christ’s sake, Jacob, in many ways, you’ve been as disengaged from reality as Dad is. But I’m seeing now, I’m seeing it all. Life isn’t about being alone; it’s about being with someone.”
“But there is someone,” said Jacob. “There’s Rebecca.”
“Ah, yes. Rebecca. Would you like us to get her on the phone from Earth?”
“What? No.”
“Why? Ashamed of what you’re doing? Afraid she’d never look at you the same way if she knew?”
Jacob shifted uneasily in his chair.
“’Cause I know what it’s like to have her not look at you the same way. I went to see her after I uploaded. She couldn’t look me in the eye; she scurried away every time I came near. She couldn’t even say my name.”
“That’s you,” he said.
“It’ll be you, too, if she finds out about what you’re doing here. You think she isn’t going to ask what happened to the Mindscan me? You think she’ll just forget about it?” I shook my head. “You can’t win here; you just can’t.”
Jacob got slowly to his feet, but he didn’t stand quite erect. “Are you all right?” I asked.
He was holding the gun in one hand, and was now rubbing the top of his head with the other.
“Jacob?” I said. He was wincing; I’d forgotten how much a flesh face could contort. “Jacob, my God …”
“You’re part of it,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You’re part of it, too.”
“Part of what, Jacob? I just want to help—”
“You’re lying! You’re all out to get me.”
“No,” I said, as gently as I could. “No, we’re not. Jacob, there’s something wrong with your brain—but it’s temporary.”
Jacob swung his gun toward me; it had become like a prosthetic extension of him. “I’ll kill you,” he hissed.
I shrugged infinitesimally. “You can’t.”
“Then I’ll kill them,” he said, swinging the gun between Brian and Chloë.
“Jacob, no!” I said. “For God’s sake—this isn’t … isn’t us. You know it isn’t! It’s an after-effect of the cure. Dr. Chandragupta can fix it. Let’s just put the gun down, and we can all walk out through the airlock door.”
He winced again, and doubled over a bit more. His voice was a sneer. “So they can cut into my head?”
“No, Jacob,” I said. “Nothing like that. They’ll just—”
“Shut up!” he shouted. “Just shut the fuck up!” He looked left and right. “I’ve had it with you. I’ve had it with all of you! You think you can talk me out of my life?”
I spread my arms in a placating gesture, but said nothing.
He winced again, and grunted. “God …”
“Jacob …” I said softly. “Please …”
“I can’t give up,” he said, as if the words were being torn from him. “There’s no turning back now.”
“Of course there is,” I said. “Just stop what you’re doing, and—”
But Jacob shook his head, lifted the gun, aimed it at Chloë’s chest, and—
Whooooosh!
An enormous roar of air rushing out of—of the cockpit, behind the closed door just in front of where Jacob was standing. He wheeled around, and Chloë dove for cover behind a chair.
The door to the cockpit seemed to be air-tight; there was no danger, apparently of it rupturing, even if there was nothing now but hard vacuum on the other side. It wasn’t a fancy sliding door; it was hinged, just like an airplane’s cockpit door, and it seemed to be operated manually.
“Jacob,” I said. “I’m not at risk if the cabin pressure blows—but you and your … your guests are. The three of you should crowd into the airlock, at least.”
He made no response. I could see only whites in his eyes; sweat was beading on his forehead.
“In fact,” I said, as gently as I could, “we all could just go through the airlock, back into High Eden, and—”
“No!” It was more animal growl than word. “I’ll kill—”
Another whooooosh!
Suddenly, to my absolute astonishment, the cockpit door was swinging inward, into the cabin. Incredible—with vacuum now on the other side, it would take enormous strength to push that door open. Chloë screamed, I think, but the scream was lost in the roar of escaping air. The door continued to open, and—
Oh, Jesus God!
And Karen Bessarian stepped into the cabin, her synthetic hair whipping backward in the wind caused by the evacuating atmosphere. As soon as she was fully inside, she let go of the cockpit door, and it slammed violently shut behind her.
Jacob swung to face her, brought up his piton gun, and fired straight into where Karen’s stomach would have been. A metal spike shot into her body, but she kept moving forward, deliberate step after deliberate step.
Jacob fired again, this time aiming higher on her chest. Another spike tore into her breast, ripping plastifiesh, exposing silicone and silicon.
But Karen continued moving forward, and—
And Chloë crouched down like a cat, out of Jacob’s view, then leapt, flying through the air, landing on Jacob’s back, encircling his neck. Jacob fired another projectile, but this one missed—going through the cockpit door like it wasn’t there, creating a two-centimeter hole through which air started pouring out again.
Jacob was undeterred. He aimed at Karen’s head and squeezed off another shot. The spike hit her but ricocheted off her impenetrable skull. I instinctively followed the rebound of the spike, which smashed into the side bulkhead, lodging there without breaching it.
I swung my attention back to Karen—and opened my mouth in shock, instinctively trying to suck in breath. Her left eye socket was shattered, and the eye itself was gone. Blue metal was exposed beneath a ragged hole in her plastiskin, and some sort of yellow lubricant, like amber tears, was trickling down that side of her face.
But her voice, Georgia accent and all, was just fine. “Leave my boyfriend—and everyone else—alone,” she said, still coming forward.
&
nbsp; Brian Hades was getting into the act now. He leapt, soaring horizontally, ponytail flying, and tackled Jacob by the legs. Chloë disengaged from Jacob as he tumbled over, and she scurried away.
I was suddenly conscious of blood everywhere. It took me a moment to figure out what was happening: Jacob’s nose had ruptured under the shift in air pressure, and twin geysers of crimson—God, but blood is bright red!—were squirting from his nostrils. Christ, if he hadn’t been cured of Katerinsky’s, the pressure shift probably would have killed him.
Jacob was now sprawled on the hard deck. Karen had closed the distance between him and her and was bending down. She grabbed his right wrist with her left hand, and grabbed the squat gun with her right hand. Jacob clearly didn’t want to let it go, and—
And there was a crack, quite audible above the hiss of escaping atmosphere, and I realized that Karen had broken at least one bone in Jacob’s hand as she yanked the gun from his grip. She looked at the gun with disgust and tossed it aside; it bounced high on the upholstery of one of the chairs, then fell back down in slow motion.
Jacob’s hands came up, grabbing one of Karen’s shins. I could see the excruciating look on his face as he did so; the broken bone in his right hand must be torturing him. But he pushed upward on Karen’s shin with all his might, and, in lunar gravity, that was enough to let him toss her up and backward like a caber.
Suddenly he was scrambling to his feet and running for the gun. Brian crouched low and leapt, sailing down the cabin, colliding with Jacob, and the two of them tumbled down again. I surged forward, trying to help Brian, while Chloë ran past me going the other way. Brian made it to feet, and Jacob got up too, but he was ignoring Brian and instead had turned his attention to Chloë, who—
My nonexistent heart stopped for a second; I really think it did.
—who had picked up the gun and now fired it directly into the center of Jacob’s chest.
Jacob’s mouth went into one of those imperfect “O’s” that biologicals make, and his defective, color-blind eyes went wide, and a new crimson stain joined the others already on his shirt, and he staggered backward, and—
Mindscan Page 32
