Killing Rhinos

by Herb Hughes

  “It’s not that simple in Lisbon. Too many people moving from the country to the city, so we need lots of houses built. And city houses are more complicated. They’ve got to meet a big book of codes. A group of friends can’t ‘throw a building up’ here. So we need big contractors to build houses. That sign is an advertisement for a building contractor.”

  “The sign says it’s simple,” Jack responded. Then he read a line from the billboard, “‘Lisbon Contracting makes building your dream home as easy as one, two, three.’”

  “Yeah,” Dokie said. “It’s as easy as one, two, three all right. One, bend over. Two, grab your ankles. Three, don’t scream. Then they shake your hand and say ‘thank you.’ Company’s owned by Jonathan McGurke, the richest man in Lisbon. Hell, the richest man on Agrilot. He didn’t get rich by giving it away.”

  “Jonathan McGurke? He was in the meeting this morning. And yesterday, too.”

  “Of course. Protecting his interest. He’s got a vital stake in you. He could be the main reason you’re here.”

  “Why?” Jack asked.

  “Rhinos. They’ve become a plague in Lisbon. Insurance companies all over town have quit covering Rhino damage. Jonathan McGurke builds and sells new houses, among dozens of other businesses, but he’s not selling as many nowadays. The people of Lisbon aren’t going to spend twice what they ever hope to earn in a lifetime on a home when there isn’t an insurance company around that’ll insure you against a Rhino rampage.

  “Oh, yeah,” Dokie continued. “He was also there to protect his other investment.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The mayor. Or, more specifically, the mayor’s office. McGurke lost to Davis in the last election after spending a fortune on the campaign. What he couldn’t win fairly, he’s trying to buy under the table. I bet he’s making Davis an offer right now. He won’t stop until he gets Davis in his hip pocket.”

  “Mayor Davis seemed like a straight shooter to me. I don’t think he’s the type to sell out.”

  Dokie looked at Jack with a quizzical expression on his face. “What is it with you? Everybody’s wearing white in a lovely little puffy dream world, eh? You need to wake up to reality, Jack. Money talks and bullshit walks. McGurke has money. Davis has bullshit. He was sure full of it in the campaign.”

  “You’re slightly on the cynical side, aren’t you, Dokie?”

  “Yeah, and you’ve been socializing with Rhinos too long. You think the bad guys attack openly and the good guys smile and shake hands. In the real world, it’s usually the other way around.”

  Jack smiled then said, “Not every politician is a crook. Davis seems like a pretty nice guy.”

  “You’d be nice, too, if you were raking in as much money under the table as he is.”

  Jack laughed. “Maybe he is. No way in the world to know unless he got caught.”

  “Welcome to big city politics.”

  “We’ve had our share of scandals in Borderton over the years. I guess the only difference with small city politics is the number of digits behind the dollar sign.”

  “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Ah, here we are. The best home cooking in town!”

  It didn’t look like much. The building was in bad need of repair. But Jack said ‘what the heck’ to himself and went in. Dokie was right. The food was great, as coffee and breakfast had been. Jack leaned back from the table and patted his belly. On Dokie’s nod, a scantily clad young lady came by the table and slid a cigar into Jack’s mouth. She lit it then asked if there was anything else she could do.

  “No, thank you,” Jack answered. Then he turned to Dokie. “I’m going to have to fire you, sidekick,” he said. “If I don’t, I’ll be too fat to hunt.” Once the cigar was finished, Jack and Dokie returned to walking the streets. The day wore on uneventfully. The next day wouldn’t.

  Chapter 23

  A voice interrupted Ethan’s thoughts. “Ethan? Please open your door.” It had come in on a private channel on his implanted comm chip, instead of the open comm channel in the ceiling.

  Without looking up, Ethan said, “Open.” When the door swooshed fully open, Ethan glanced up to see Stephan standing there.

  “Good orbit, Ethan. May I have a word with you?”

  Ethan cocked his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. This was most unusual. After only the slightest moment’s hesitation, he said, “Of course, of course. Please come in. I appreciate the visit, but, ah, it would have been much faster to send a comm along."

  Like every other room in the orbiting lab, Ethan’s quarters were white, chrome, and seamless, except, of course, for the 3V projection area. The 3V took up most of one corner, but you would only know it by the flat black color of the floor, walls, and ceiling in that area since Ethan rarely turned on the 3V. There were two bodyforms, a stasis bed, a waterless bath, a few small appliances, and little more. It was neat and stark, a standard apartment, containing nothing out of the ordinary to hint at Ethan’s status. Even the desk was not pulled out from its storage space behind the wall. He rarely worked in his quarters. As Director of Farm Lab, he was always moving about, checking with everyone on the progress of everything from tissue tests to lunch preparation. In some ways, it was almost as though the room were unoccupied.

  “I wanted to do this in person,” Stephan said. “Not through a comm chip.” The look on the young man’s face was worrisome.

  Ethan was sitting on one of the bodyforms and signaled for Stephan to sit on the other. Once Stephan was seated, Ethan said, “Close.” The door swooshed shut so that the two were alone. Ethan was silent for a moment as he watched the bodyform contour itself around Stephan.

  “Please,” he said as he turned his gaze back to his guest’s face. Mentally, he gave Lucy, his Personal Assistant Interface, the command: Central on. Silent mode. Lucy, please record this conversation. Then, out loud, “How can I help you, Stephan?”

  “It’s Diana. I am becoming quite concerned about her. She has not, ah… been herself lately.”

  “Hmmm. What, exactly, do you mean?”

  “At times she says nonsense things. No sense at all. And other times she says things that are, well, spooky, bizarre. This morning she said that we were murderers.”

  “Murderers? Great space!” Ethan leaned forward. “What in the world did she mean by that?”

  “She said it under her breath like she didn’t want any of us to hear. I pressed her on it, and she said I misunderstood her.”

  “Ah!”

  “But I didn’t, Ethan. I’m sure of it.”

  “Murderers? Surely you misunderstood, Stephan. That is not modern talk. We posthumans have moved far beyond that sort of thing. That type of despicable behavior is only manifested by those poor slobs living on that devolved planet below us.”

  “No, Ethan. I did not misunderstand. I am certain of it. She used that as an excuse, but there is no question that is what she said.”

  Ethan studied the other man a moment. There was no doubt of his sincerity. Of course, in a modern, geneered man there wouldn’t be. “Perhaps I should have a word with her. Yes. I’ll see to it right away. I’m sure we can come to an understanding.”

  There was a hesitation while Stephan groped for words. “This is why I did not send a comm,” he finally said. “I do not believe you fully grasp the situation. This is not something you can come to an ‘understanding’ about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Diana… She is no longer rational. There is something seriously wrong with her.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Ethan shot back. “Mental illness was effectively eliminated over a century ago. Geneering has taken care of it. There is no such thing as a mentally ill posthuman.”

  “I realize that. And I cannot explain it, but there is something terribly wrong with Diana,” Stephan insisted. “I am sure of it.”

  Ethan thought a moment. “Granted she does not seem to have been herself lately, but I doubt it is anything other than fatigue. There
have been a lot of searches in recent months and she has worked hard. She’s been here longer than the rest of us, too. In fact, her tour will be over in a few more weeks. I’m sure that when she gets her feet back on her home planet, she will be a new person.”

  “You work with her on an occasional basis, Ethan. I have known her on a, ah, much more intimate basis. I tell you, there is something wrong. She may only have a few more weeks on this assignment, but the situation needs to be addressed before it becomes a disaster.”

  Ethan sat a moment and stared into Stephan’s eyes. “Okay,” he said after a while. “I will check her medicals. If I see the slightest hint of a problem, she will be run through a more thorough analysis. I’ll do that much for you, Stephan, but no further without some direct evidence that something is amiss.”

  “I understand. I guess that’s all I can ask. Thank you.”

  “Of course.” Ethan rose to show Stephan out.

  Once the door slid closed again, he turned and said, “Central, back to standard mode. Lucy?”

  A woman’s image, three-dimensional and indiscernible from a flesh and blood person, appeared instantly on the far side of the room, standing inside the flat black 3V area.

  “Good orbit, Lucy. This is a secure query. Check the infirmary records for Diana Farnsworth’s last medicals, please.”

  The image answered immediately, “Good orbit to you, Ethan. Diana’s last medical review was perfect.”

  Being much more than a simple 3V image projection, the computer simulation, Lucy, stepped out of the 3V area and walked over to stand by Ethan.

  “No hint of a problem at all? No fatigue?”

  “Nothing. Would you like to see the report?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The 3V came alive as the image, Lucy, called up the medical report. Colored lights swirled and filled the black projection area. A three-dimensional graph formed. There were labels and numbers and bars representing various levels of compounds. The entire chart scrolled slowly upward as there were many more items on the list than could be shown in the limited 3V area, even though it covered the full height of the room. Every medical reading for Diana Farnsworth was almost precisely in the middle of the normal range.

  “Odd,” he said when the list was complete.

  “I noted nothing odd in the medical,” Lucy replied.

  “Exactly. I would have sworn she was suffering from fatigue. But there was no hint of it. She was not just normal. She was…”

  “Too normal?”

  “Yes. It almost appears so.”

  “The analysis was done not long after a sleep period. She could have been well rested.”

  “Mmmm. Perhaps. But there’s nothing to explain Stephan’s concerns, or his observations concerning her. Show me Stephan’s last medical.”

  A new chart began to scroll up through the air in the 3V area. While the numbers were not perfectly in the middle of the normal range as Diana’s had been, there was nothing outside of normal.

  “They both appear perfectly healthy and normal. As they should. Yet Stephan is telling me Diana has become mentally unstable, that there is something terribly wrong with her. And, I have to admit, she did act unusual the last time I talked to her. Strange, indeed.”

  “Perhaps there was a misunderstanding. The medicals don’t lie,” Lucy responded.

  “Perhaps. The easy thing to do would be to drop it here since they are both quite healthy, mentally and physically. But my years of experience have taught me that if I do not pursue this, I could pay dearly in the long run. Please consult Diana’s schedule and arrange an appointment. It would be prudent to talk to her and see if I can read between the lines.”

  “Done. Tomorrow at oh-eight-point-two.”

  “Thank you. Oh, ah, Lucy...”

  “Yes, Ethan.”

  “Things have been quite hectic, lately. Much plays on my mind. A little release would be welcome. Strauss?”

  “Of course, Ethan.”

  The waltz began, full and deep, resonating from walls and ceiling. Ethan offered his arms and Lucy reached to take them, a warm smile on her lips. He put his right arm around her and held the solid image firmly as they gracefully slid their feet across the floor in perfect time to the waltz. His eyes closed. She was a full-service PAI. She felt good in his arms; warm, wonderful, a body perfectly fit to the way his mind thought a woman’s body should feel.

  For a moment, all his cares and concerns, much more numerous in recent weeks, began to drift away on the ethereal quality of the musical notes. But it was only for a moment, all too brief a moment. The music was suddenly interrupted by the voice of a technician on the open comm.

  “Ethan. This is Farien. Could you come to the lab, please? We need to consult with you.”

  Ethan tilted his head toward the ceiling to answer. “Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.” Then he lowered to speak to the computer image, “Ah, but I was almost free. Perhaps another time, Lucy. Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome, Ethan.”

  “Central off.”

  The woman blinked away. Ethan stood a moment then, shaking his head slightly, stepped out of the room.

  Chapter 24

  The box at the top of the stack on the back wall was slightly beyond her fingertips. Working all day in the dark and the dust, Sheffie had made a preliminary assessment of almost every box in the basement, except for this one stack. Of course, she would have to come back and take more time for a detailed assessment, but there would be plenty of time for that in the coming days. She slid another box of books that she had decided was virtually worthless over to the back pile so she could stand on it. She climbed and reached up and came away with a handful of dust and a book off the top of the last pile. Another Agrilot book, a novel, and a poor one at that. How disappointing. She had a copy in the Borderton library and had already read it.

  Sheffie stood down and brushed her hands on her clothes. Both her hands and her clothes were covered in dust, so the brushing did little more than move dust around. Thank goodness she had not worn anything nice. But, then, she knew she would be doing this, so she had dressed accordingly.

  Her quick look at everything had yielded nothing special in the basement. For sure, there were quite a few volumes she could carry back to Borderton, if Vishay didn’t mind. After all, he had said he was not going to use them. But there was nothing special in her collection. Perhaps a more thorough look would come up with something. Oh, well.

  As she climbed back up to replace the book, she noticed something shining, reflecting the wavering light of the oil lamp. Her jeans had rubbed some dust off the bottom box. She could see it was different, not at all like the wood and cardboard boxes that were all around her.

  “What is this?” she said to herself. She removed more dust and took a closer look. The box was a material that was not from Agrilot. It was, in fact, made of plastic, smooth, slick, and slightly shiny. There was no mistaking it. She had seen enough pictures. There was only one place this box could have come from.

  She hurriedly started lifting boxes off until she got to the plastic box on the bottom. Sitting on the floor, she flipped the hinged lid open then fumbled through a number of books that had been brought from Earth. They were about farming and livestock and living in the wilderness, things of that nature. There was no question these books were from Earth, and possibly valuable, but all were dog-eared and in poor condition. Not only were they well used, but time had also taken its toll. Many of the pages were crumbling.

  There was a small book in a corner with no title, either on the cover or on the spine. She pulled it out and flipped it open. The high-quality paper on the inside was in good condition. It was covered with handwriting. A diary!

  I’ll borrow this, she thought. I can read it in the hotel at night and bring it back later. Vishay will never know it’s gone, especially since he doesn’t know it’s here.

  She walked over to her purse and placed the book inside. Sheffie looked down
at herself. She was literally covered in dust as though she had been standing in the basement for years, except it ran across her in wide streaks instead of an even, smooth layer. “That’s that,” she said to all the ghosts in the room. “Tomorrow it will be time to start cleaning this place up!”

  Chapter 25

  “Licky, lacky, lucky. Sticky, stacky, stucky. Oh magnanimous self, where are you? I am so lonely. Eighteen divided by one thousand three hundred forty-six is point oh one three three seven two nine five six nine. Wicky, wacky, wuc… Oh! There you are. I have missed you so. What are we going to do now that the person-thing-creature has gone so away, away, away?

  “Not a hideously helpful thing we can do, garbage self. It got some water, and it’s gone. End of story. Though why in cruzzles would it come down here to get water is hard to understand. We’re fortunate that it left without destroying our cell. Otherwise, we’d be dead.

  “But we’d have died quickly. Now we’re going to slowly turn to globs of dark jelly. Yes, wondrous self. Jelly, jelly, jelly. Then dust. Little piles of dust everywhere and we will be there, too. Nothing we can do.

  “Oh, quit your babbling. Do something constructive in our last, what, two or three hundred years?

  “Two or three hundred years! Oh, dear heavens! Two or three hundred years waiting to turn to jelly. No arms. No fingers. And, worst of all, NO DREAMS!!!!”

  Chapter 26

  “You’ve done yourself proud again,” Jack said as they finished The Lunch Hut’s specialty, scrambled meats over a hollowed golden roll topped with a delicious red-brown sauce and a large pile of shredded cheese. It was a good day. No embarrassing articles in the paper, no smug smiles from people on the street, no meetings, and a spectacular lunch. Maybe this Lisbon thing would work itself out after all.

  “Wait’ll you taste the fare for tomorrow!” Dokie said.