by Herb Hughes
The person who belonged to the voice must have been on the station Ethan had talked about. It was like telegraph, but with voices instead of code. And no wires. Like radio on old Earth. These were things that he had only seen in Earth books. Now he was living it.
Gazing into the view panel, Jack could see something growing in the star-studded blackness around them. From a point of light, it hurriedly became a strange floating city, covering much of the screen. This must be the station. It was made up of a large cylindrical pod with two smaller pods held together by long, thick metal struts, all rotating around a long vertical tube with fans and spikes and all sorts of things sticking out of it. Everything was a dull light gray except for some type of insignia painted onto the station in several places. Size was a mystery. There was no point of reference. He thought, perhaps, it was not very large, much smaller than the town of Borderton.
As they moved closer, the size began to register in Jack’s mind. The station was huge, and it was all man-made and floating in space. Astonishing.
They continued to get closer, moving toward the bottom of the station. A line appeared in a rectangular pod near the end of the central tube. As it grew wider, Jack realized it was a door opening, sliding off to the side, a door more than large enough for the shuttle to pass through.
“Shuttle, dock in Bay Three,” Ethan said.
In just seconds the rectangular pod expanded to fill the screen. They were coming in at a high rate of speed but began to slow as they approached the door. Jack felt little sensation as the shuttle shed speed quickly.
There were lights inside the opening, and more than enough room for the shuttle to land. Jack could see a large variety of tools and equipment hanging on the walls and resting on the floor against the walls, all strapped securely in place. There were several doors, at least they appeared to be doors, leading to other areas of the floating city. Or, perhaps, to storage areas. The doors were solid so he could see nothing on the other side.
“Shuttle, lock down and stop.”
Ethan touched a red square, and the colorful panel shut down, returning to dark gray with only the small green square in the middle.
“Remove your bracelet from your wrist and hand it to me,” Ethan said.
There was no choice other than total compliance. Jack removed his Rhino hunter bracelet and dropped it into the clear bag Ethan held in front of him. The bag was made from a material Jack had never seen except for pictures in Earth books.
“Follow me.”
Ethan was not concerned about Jack doing anything other than what he was told. He turned his back to Jack and walked over to a door, placing his palm on a glowing green square beside the door. It swooshed open to a long corridor.
“Understand,” Ethan said, “The readers for the doors recognize me through my palm. I have full access throughout the station, whereas you have no access whatsoever. The readers will not recognize your hand so you can go nowhere without one of us. Please do not waste your time trying to sneak around or get away or some other nonsense such as that.”
Jack did not respond. What these people could do was frightening. It seemed like magic, like a child’s fairytale come true. Or a nightmare come true. He was not sure which. There was no option other than doing what he was told to do.
They walked through a series of halls and passed a few of Ethan’s station mates along the way. These people were human, he thought, but they were different from the people on Agrilot. The men were all virile, muscular, and handsome. The women were stunning, goddesses. Any one of them was more beautiful than any woman Jack had ever seen on Agrilot. And every single one of them had a body straight out of a young man’s wildest fantasies.
Was this heaven? It was in the sky above the planet. Everyone inside the floating city was perfect. Perhaps Bonner had killed him, and now he was walking through the afterlife. Maybe they were going to make him as handsome and vigorous as these people. But, no, it didn’t feel like heaven, and he didn’t feel dead. Besides, these people, though they may have appeared perfect, did not seem like angels. In fact, as he watched them, he was sure they weren’t. There was something disturbing about them, no matter how good they looked, but he could not quite put his finger on it. They were different from the people of Agrilot. They were handsome and beautiful and well-built, yes, but there was more to it. Something elusive bothered him.
Every time Ethan acknowledged someone in the hall, he said, “Good orbit,” whatever that meant. The other person replied with the same salutation, but they all seemed more interested in staring at Jack than talking to Ethan. And he stared back, directly into their seemingly horrified eyes. He was not going to wilt under their stares. If he looked out of place to them, they looked just as out of place to him, but for different reasons.
Ethan handed the bag containing Jack’s bracelet to one of the men and instructed him to take it to the lab for retrofitting. A few steps further, Ethan turned to the side and touched a green glowing reader on the wall. In what had seemed like a blank, seamless wall, a door swished open, revealing a relatively small, stark room.
“Step in,” Ethan said, motioning with his hand. “I will explain everything to you then you will rest here while we outfit you for your new career.”
Once inside, Ethan indicated a bodyform that looked similar to the chair on the shuttle. Jack sat down and this time did not jump when the chair started moving to conform to his body.
“Please listen carefully, Mr. Wheat,” Ethan began. “This will be complicated for you, and I do not wish to repeat myself. You are what we were almost two centuries ago, a slowly evolved human being. Basically, you are a step or two above apes, though that may mean nothing to you since there are no apes on Agrilot.”
Jack remembered pictures of apes and references to humans evolving from apes in the Earth books, but he kept his mouth shut and listened.
“As you no doubt noticed when we walked through the halls, we have changed. Yes, we are from Earth and, yes, two centuries ago we were the same species. We no longer are. We have shortened millions of years of evolution through the process of genetic engineering, or geneering for short, and the development of the bio-mechanical interface. We are a far different species than you, a far better species. We are posthumans.
“No longer do we leave our traits and qualities to random nature. We have geneered ourselves to be virtually perfect in every way. Not only are we vastly superior in appearance, as is obvious, but we are also far more intelligent, far stronger both physically and mentally, and eminently more healthy.
“We are, literally, part machine. We have electronic implants to improve our mental functioning and mechanical implants to improve our physical functioning. With our augmented muscles, we have what would seem to you to be superhuman strength. You should fully understand by now, Mr. Wheat, that we are vastly superior. We are lightyears beyond what you are.”
Ethan turned and walked away from Jack with his arms behind him, his hands together. He was quiet for a moment then he turned back around and said, “However, there is an unfortunate drawback with geneering. While we are working on the issue, we have not yet solved it. You see, the qualities we are designed for are universal. We are close to perfect, but that perfection carries with it a significant lack of variety, meaning our genetic makeup from one individual to another varies little.”
That’s when it hit him. Jack suddenly realized what had been bothering him about these people. They were all handsome and beautiful and well-built, no question, but there was a boring sameness to them. They could easily have been from the same family. Other than hair color, eye color, slight variations in skin tone, and a few minor facial tweaks here and there, they all looked like the same person. They all moved and acted similarly. These “posthumans” were not like individuals at all. They were more like bees in a hive. Highly intelligent bees, but bees nonetheless.
“That in itself, “Ethan continued, “Is not a problem since we are all near perfect. The slight
imperfection is that this lack of variety in our genetic makeup renders us susceptible to a variety of diseases. It is quite unlike natural selection where if one individual dies from a disease, another individual is immune. The species carries on. In our case, if one person has a problem with an infection, we all do.
“This is all the more an issue because we are rapidly expanding into our section of the galaxy. As it turns out, the universe is teeming with life, but mostly microbial life. We are being exposed to microscopic forms of life no human or posthuman has ever been exposed to. In most cases, these life forms are not compatible with our systems and do not affect us. In a minority of cases, still far too many, they do affect us, sometimes catastrophically. This came as quite a surprise to our scientists, but that’s another story.
“This is where Agrilot comes in. The problem was discovered early in the development of posthumans. Earth’s leaders decided to maintain a pool of diverse genetic material to combat the problem. Using genetic material from this pool requires, of course, that the person donating the tissue be terminated. Therefore, the old style humans in that genetic pool could not be told what their purpose was. So the ‘Agricultural Camelot,’ Agrilot, was created as a cover for our operation.
“Of necessity, we had to keep the populace on Agrilot in a relatively backward state, technologically. It would be inconvenient if you advanced too quickly. So the freighter with all the equipment and computers and technological documentation was, conveniently, lost in transit. In fact, it never existed. Nor were we ever intending to send supply freighters. But we did not go away and abandon you. In fact, Mr. Wheat, we never left. We have been here all along, watching from above, taking what we needed when we needed it, but no more. And keeping peace on the planet. For the most part, except for requiring the body of a single individual upon occasion, we are benevolent landlords.”
Ethan smiled. How could he? This was unbelievably horrible, inhuman. Jack was stunned into silence as Ethan continued.
“Now, for the details that concern your new career. When we run into an issue in one of our colonies, we determine what genetic sequence is required to overcome the problem. We cannot generate life in the laboratory, nor can we change the genetic code throughout the body of a living person at this point in time, so we find someone on Agrilot who has the necessary sequence in their genetic code. Or as close as we can get. Then we, ah, ‘harvest’ that person. Their tissue, in the form of a genetic soup, is forwarded to the colony where it is needed. They use the tissue to develop an antidote, so to speak. Basically, we replicate that genetic code sequence and splice it into specific cells in the body of our posthumans, cells that are involved in repelling the invading life form. It’s, to use an old term, crude but effective. It works.
“We have a series of agents around the planet, dozens of them. They carry technical devices that can check a person’s genetic makeup with a touch, or by sampling the air that person exhales. These devices are tiny and are hidden in a variety of ways. If the agent is a Rhino hunter, as many of them are, the device is implanted in the hunter’s bracelet. Should the agent find a match, the device will notify both him and us. We contact the agent to arrange the harvesting.
“Mr. Bonner was one such agent. He was our most effective agent before you disposed of him. We need a replacement. You are a capable person, in terms of the ungeneered people of Agrilot, so you will be his replacement.”
“Me?” Jack said, finally finding his tongue. “Why?”
“As a Rhino hunter, you travel frequently and meet many people. That is an ideal situation for an agent. When we have need for a particular genetic sequence, we send a message containing that sequence to your bracelet. The equipment in the bracelet is so tiny no one on Agrilot can see it. A small receiver is placed inside your ear so we can send orders to you. No one else can hear us, not even someone standing beside you. You will communicate with us by talking to your bracelet. There is a miniature microphone in it. Oh, do please make sure you are alone when you do. Otherwise, people might think you have lost your mental functioning.
“Finally, when your bracelet detects a match, you and I arrange a time and place for tissue collection. You, of course, bring the donor to the arranged spot. You do not kill them. You merely render then unconscious using a tiny needle in your bracelet. It contains an agent that works in seconds. We prefer to keep the donor tissue as fresh as possible, so we will take care of termination at the last possible moment. This means you do not have to kill anyone. All you do is render them unconscious and deliver to us.”
Jack didn’t say anything. He knew he could not turn someone over to the space people. Even if he were not the one who killed the person directly, he would effectively murder them by turning them over to these posthumans. Once he rendered the person from Agrilot unconscious, they would never wake again. It was still murder in his eyes, regardless of whether he was the one who ‘pulled the trigger’ or not. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. But how was he going to get out of this trap?
What could he do? If he threw the bracelet away, into a river or stream or down a deep canyon, these posthumans would know. He could not hide from them. They were far too advanced. The things they could do were nothing short of magic to the people of Agrilot. And he was sure they could do a lot more than he had seen. With all the problems Jack was facing on the planet’s surface, this new problem had suddenly turned into the worst of all, worse than all the others put together!
“I am sure a person of your, ah, character is concerned about collecting tissue donors,” Ethan said. “Allow me to provide an example that might help ease your concerns. Recently we had a situation on a colony called Berrace that became quite urgent. There was a life form on the planet that was similar to germs on Earth. It infected us but lay dormant in the body for almost two years before becoming active. We knew it was there. We detected it. This organism was common on Berrace, so common every person who came to the planet was infected within days, most within hours. But it did nothing, and we thought it harmless.
“The first sign of trouble was two years later when the original fourteen colonists, who were in otherwise excellent health, all died within days of each other. The infection had morphed into something that broke down cell walls at an alarming rate. Once the process started, the individual died an excruciatingly painful death in three to four days. At the time of the first outbreak, there were twelve thousand people on Berrace. Before we could determine the exact problem and identify the genetic sequence needed, one hundred eighty-four people had died, the original colonists and the next two waves. The fourth wave of colonists, a much larger group, would have started dying a few months from now. We had to find the tissue on an urgent basis and get it to the colony in time to save thousands of lives. We did. Or, more correctly, Greg Bonner did. The donor was from your area, a young man named Brian Pickney.
“Yes, this process cost the life of one of your constituents. In reality, Mr. Pickney should be considered a hero. One life of a backward species was painlessly lost to save twelve thousand higher life forms from a horrible death. Twelve thousand! I’m sure even you can understand the numbers involved. You don’t need a super intelligent brain or a math implant to understand that.
“Now,” Ethan stood as he continued, “Rest a while. A medic will be here soon to implant the receiver in your ear. Don’t worry. It’s a painless process.”
Without another word, Ethan ordered the door open and stepped out of the room. It closed behind him. The strange chair moved to accommodate his new position as Jack leaned back and tried to make some sense of what was happening to him. There did not appear to be any way to escape the situation. He could not outsmart or outwit the posthumans.
Sometime later the door swished open, and another geneered man came in. In a few short, painless moments, Jack had a receiver in his ear. The medic tilted his head toward the ceiling and asked Ethan to run a check.
Jack jumped as the words, “Tell the medic if you ca
n hear me,” burst into his ear. He could hear Ethan as clearly as though the man were standing right beside him, so he looked at the technician, shrugged, and said, “He said to tell you I can hear him.”
The technician lifted his head toward the ceiling and said, “Checks fine. Good orbit, Ethan.”
The technician left and, once again, Jack was alone. It was quite some time before Ethan came back, Jack’s bracelet in his hand. It appeared unchanged.
“Now, listen carefully as I go over the functions,” Ethan said. He explained everything in detail. It was simple enough. When he finished, he said, “Hold your bracelet to your mouth and whisper something.”
Jack glanced at his bracelet a moment, then lifted it and whispered, “Yes.” He felt silly.
“It’s working properly,” Ethan said. “Very good. Now it is time to go back to Agrilot. Time for you to begin your new career, but as we discussed, this is between you and us. You are not to talk about this with anyone on the planet. Should you do so, we will eventually discover your transgression. You will be turned to genetic soup and another, more discrete agent will be located. For your own well-being, I do hope that is perfectly clear. Now, time to return.”
Ethan walked Jack back to the shuttle. Along the way, Jack endured more stares from the posthumans walking the corridors. Fortunately, there weren’t many of them. Once back in the shuttle, Ethan placed his palm on the green square glowing in the middle of the gray panel. Once again, it flashed into a kaleidoscope of moving color. The view panel above came on as well.
“Station,” Ethan said. “Bay door open.” Once the door was fully open, he said, “Shuttle, exit bay.”
As smoothly and as gracefully as it had landed, the shuttle lifted off the bay floor and drifted out the door and into space.
“Shuttle, show prior location.”
