by Chris Ramos
Recognizing Cole’s unique technological signature reading from his nanos, the clock opened and revealed a series of dials. They were spinning in unison, driving the dials counterclockwise. His march towards expiration had already begun. Jon quickly counted the dials and totaled fifty-two years.
That’s my boy. You will live longer than I will, Jon silently congratulated.
“Your son is ready for you to take home. The nano infusion went as planned, and he is one of our best subjects,” Dr. Dehmer disclosed.
“He looks like me,” Jon commented.
“Of course he does. The genes are still intact and passed on. Hair color, eye color, propensity to be thin or obese, expressions, skeletal structure. These still develop outside of the nanotechnology. Unfortunately, we are all still very unique.”
“I know the nanos keep him healthy,” Jon chimed in. “Cole will be everything we wished to be. My boy will be hungry for knowledge, and maybe a bit of a daydreamer, like his dad. But I can’t wait to teach him to walk, and tie his shoes and—”
“You will not need to teach him any of those mundane activities more than once,” Dr. Dehmer interrupted. “The nanos are instilled with the knowledge of generations. Your simple tasks mean nothing.”
“How can you be so callous?” Mary started indignantly, pushing her way to the Doctor. “How can you not see a child as a new beginning? The start of a new life to learn and to grow beyond the limitations of the parent—”
“He is already beyond you,” Dr. Dehmer interrupted again, in a droning, lecturing monotone. “You will show him one time to tie his shoes. The nanos will take over from there. They already know how to fasten those laces better than you. Actually, even better than I. Every new generation learns and perfects these tasks, these muscle memories. They are nothing more than that.”
“I’m teaching him. I am the one showing him how to do that in the first place, right? He doesn’t know at birth how to ties his shoes. He doesn’t know how to walk or run when he’s just a child!” Jon was becoming agitated.
“Of course he can’t walk right out of the tube. That’s ridiculous. There are muscular limitations. For example, as a newborn, his neck muscles cannot hold his head up. The nanos release their information at appointed times. No sooner, no later. You will show him these things, these tasks that somehow fulfill you as a fatherly figure. How cliché. You show him once, and the triggers release. You go ahead and play the good daddy. He already knows everything you will be telling him. He just doesn’t believe it yet,” Dr. Dehmer scoffed.
“I know when your profession is chosen, the knowledge of the craft is unlocked so you can add to the successes. Why not unlock everyone? Why not have everyone know everything? Wouldn’t that be better? Isn’t that possible?” Jon asked.
The Doctor looked at him with an incredulous expression. “Mr. Jenkins, would you need an ocean ship captain to understand how to build a city structure?”
“Then Cole can choose for himself. We will support him in any area he wishes to pursue,” Mary joined in encouragingly.
“Again, he does not choose the profession. There is still an anomaly we cannot seem to weed out. There are still the right choice and the wrong choice for each person. I would rather assign the needed craft to each new citizen. However, there is a skill set buried deep with the genetic code. One day we will find the strain and even the playing field.”
“This is still our free choice. We all have talents,” Mary replied.
“Yes, of course. So very talented we all are . . . ,” the Doctor trailed off. “Good day to you.” The Doctor turned and walked away, returning to his duties.
Nimbus stood with his arms clasped behind his back, pacing the long reporting room as the reports came flooding in. Weekly, he received updates from across the globe. The global land masses were split into sectors, with each sector controlled by a Praetor. Industry, Economy, Agriculture, and Population Control were among the many reports from each area. Nimbus reviewed the endless stream of reports. He read at a blazing speed. He was power, he was the decider.
“Sire, we have a report from the solar fields of the East Hemisphere. Specifically, in the village of Bangalore, twelve degrees fifty-eight minutes North by seventy-seven degrees thirty-eight minutes East. The report states a decline in the energy intake from their solar panels. The decrease seems to be from outdated technology, not from arcane devices.”
“Are the solar fields working at their maximum output?”
“No, sire, they are still capable of increasing by twelve percent. The only impediment is that the next level of technology needed is locked away in the LifeSpan Pro Dev vaults. Do we have permission to unlock level eighteen?”
Nimbus sat down in his high-backed chair, slowly folding his hands in his lap, over his knees, and pondered the question. The Progressive Development vaults were the heart of his power. Knowledge was power, and the vaults were the culmination of hundreds of years of knowledge, slowly collected from the nano responses of the world population.
The problem facing him was twofold. First, the solar arrays across the globe were positioned in areas of maximum sunlight, allowing the solar cells to charge fully and distribute the energy to the growing populations.
Second, software upgrades for the entire system would not only increase the input, it would give extra power to the surrounding communities. This upgrade could spur development in the area. The larger issue was why the power was needed.
“Tell me, has the population expanded so quickly they are in need of this extra energy?” Nimbus inquired.
“No, sire.” The messenger flipped through his digiscreen. “That is the peculiar data. There has been a marked increase in new births, but no more than the allowable limit.”
“Yet they are suddenly draining the grid?”
“Yes, sire. Forty percent higher energy drains are reported within the last quarter.”
“Alert the Praetors,” Nimbus ordered. “I want to know why.”
“Yes, of course.” The messenger bowed. “LifeSpan is the path.” The messenger turned to leave.
“One final item.” Nimbus leaned forward. “Reduce the current power in Bangalore by twenty percent. I suspect we will flush out the real cause here.”
“A wise choice. It will be done.”
I can see the birds waiting in the tree, looking for the morning light. The sun moves slowly over the mountains that ring our town. Momma says instead of sitting inside watching the sun move, I should be outside at the park with my sister and the other kids. My neighbor always goes to the park. Their whole family goes to watch the Collectors play with the children, allowing them to hang off their arms and racing them across the fields. I never really liked them, there’s something in their eyes. Something behind their eyes if that’s possible. I call them Montgomery’s Mumblers because if Dr. Montgomery made them, you would think he could help them talk better.
THE DAWN
Mary stood in the front doorway, waiting for the sun to rise. She always waited for the sun. It felt refreshing, and today she needed to bask in the rays and clear her thoughts.
“Honey, soon it will be 5:05 a.m.,” Mary started. “And you’ll want to—”
“I’ll want nothing. We have prepared for this very moment, and all is going as planned,” Jon hastily replied.
Mary stared back at him and could not think of a rebuttal. She crossed her arms and glanced outside to check the sky again. She looked down the cobblestone walkway, lined with marigolds and leading to their porch. It was true, Jon had known of this day even before they met each other. He would be the first taken away. Then it would be her, and much later, their son Cole.
Looking at her husband, with his hair perfectly set and his blue pinstripe suit purchased just for this occasion, she was actually filled with a sense of wonder for the LifeSpan system. However, there was a hint of . . . something, just under her skin. An emotion she thought was lost, but suddenly forced to the surface. She desperately
tried to place this feeling. Was it melancholy? But why should she be feeling this? Today’s date was registered and verified by the LifeSpan Department of Records.
“Hello, Cole,” her husband called out to the back room. Mary turned to look.
Peeking around the corner was their nine-year-old son. He bolted into the room with a handful of choco-sticks, his father’s favorite way to ruin his dinner. Cole threw his arms around Jon.
“Father, it should be time soon, right?” Cole asked.
“Yes, and I wanted to ask you one last favor before they arrive,” Jon said as he lowered himself to one knee and took hold of Cole’s hands.
“Take care of your mother, remember all that I have taught you, and always hold your head high. You are the son I always wanted.” He glanced at his LifeSpan timepiece. “Now, the time is almost upon us.” Three of the five dials had stopped moving, leaving minutes and seconds spinning away.
“That is it, Father. Time to expire,” Cole explained.
As Jon stood, the Collectors arrived.
The morning sun rose over the horizon but was blocked by a wall of three imposing men, standing shoulder to shoulder. They moved in unison, capes billowing behind their physiques, the strong wind whipping against them, stirring their cloaks and hair but having little effect on their focused gaze. Their traditional garb was pure white, the finely woven, shimmering threads reflecting in the sun. In full light, it was difficult to stare at the clothing for any length of time. They were the angels of LifeSpan. As their legs were obscured by the long flowing robes, they appeared to float forward.
Wide eyed, Mary slowly stepped away from the doorway, walking backwards, until she backed against the wall under the staircase. She glanced around, looking for her husband and son, eventually finding them: her husband fixing his tie and standing a bit straighter with a smile on his face; Cole standing tall, watching the approaching Collectors. He was proud, and so accepting of the LifeSpan way.
Mary moved her arm behind her body and felt the wall, then half turned and was caught looking at the mounted digiframe. Images and video of the three of them were cycling through the screen. Her family, looking back at her. Images of Cole as he grew up these last nine years with them.
Three of us. Complete. Soon to be two, Mary thought.
PLATEAU
Nimbus sat back in his chair. Alone. Deep in thought over his most recent series of tests. Every year, he was tested on his developing performance, measured in many areas ranging from athletic performance to intellectual prowess. He had been minutely improving each year, barely measurably, but consistently. However, for the last five years, he had not shown any improvement. His body levels and muscle mass had stayed exactly the same. Nimbus planned on finding the reason his body was not further developing, at any means possible. After all, he was supreme, and nothing would change that.
Nimbus knew he would have to remind the assembly of Doctors of that crucial fact.
The entrance chime came precisely on time.
“Enter. Your prompt arrival is noticed; your voice will be heard. Come, be my guest,” Nimbus formally declared.
The door slowly opened and the meek Dr. Powell came forward.
“I don’t want to drag this out any longer than I have to.” Nimbus stood and walked closer to Dr. Powell. “At my last session, there was no difference in—”
“You have attained greatness,” Dr. Powell adulated.
Nimbus abruptly stopped talking. He folded his hands in front of his waist, slid his feet farther apart, and stared deep into Dr. Powell’s eyes, squinting and clenching his jaw.
Dr. Powell saw this movement and knew he had made a grave mistake.
Powell had interrupted him.
Powell had offended the perfect being.
“I see you have become comfortable in your new position,” Nimbus hissed. “Perhaps you are merely forgetful of the path shown.”
“No, sire, I had a momentary lapse of judgment.” Dr. Powell was shaking, feeling his knees grow weak. He thought quickly and raised his hands. “How can I repair the damage? I am nothing without LifeSpan, I am nothing!”
Nimbus waited, reconsidering this meeting or planning for Dr. Powell’s sudden disappearance.
“As I was saying, at my last session, there was again no difference in my micro development. So, I have decided to take a new direction. In two day’s time, I will be calling a meeting of the Extractor Sciences Board. During this meeting, you will have your chance to step into my favor once again. Your decision will ruin your career, your friendships, and all of your future research will be at risk. I do not ask this of you; I command it.”
“You command, I follow, sire,” Dr. Powell conceded.
He listened as Nimbus laid out his plan.
The Collectors walked through the threshold and into the front foyer. Immediately they began looking around, scanning for people, exits, and assessing the situation. The lead Collector pulled a digiscreen from under his white cloak. Raising it up before his face, his mouth cracked open and, in a slow drawl, he read the screen. “Jon Jenkins. 16477.5.5.4. Confirm your presence and submit to expiration.”
Jon looked down at his timepiece. “I am Jon Jenkins. Thank you for arriving . . . You are early?” He looked over at his son. “I am ready, anyways.”
A Collector looked over at Mary. “There she is,” he stated as he glanced down at his digiscreen. “Subject Mary Jenkins. Stay where you are.”
“Why would you tell her that? She’s alright. She is just worried about caring for our son. Isn’t that right, Mary?” Jon watched his clock tick down.
“This is all going as planned. Why are you crying, Mom?” Cole questioned her.
Immediately in front of her was a Collector, looking down at her. She looked at him as the room was fading from view, the edges of her vision turning black and out of focus. He was very tall, muscular, and his features were cut harshly, like a chipped stone. His skin was drab, colorless, uncooked bread dough. His nose protruded and took a quick hook down. His lips were a thin line held tight by a constant pressure from his clenched teeth. Her mind was yelling at her not to react, while her arm suddenly raised and swung for the Collectors throat. Before her arm straightened, the Collector caught her wrist and shoved his face inches from her own. She didn’t even see him move! Mary stared into his charcoal-colored eyes.
Out of options, Mary began to struggle. She was not able to move before her hand was engulfed in pain. The lead Collector had her left arm in an iron grip, and as Mary glanced down, it was twisted enough to bring her to her knees in submission.
“Listen to me very carefully, woman. It would be unwise to provoke us,” the Collector spoke, slowly and with clarity. His voice had the sound of chains dragged over gravel.
Between gritted teeth, Mary stared at the ground and could smell an acrid stench she only assumed was the Collector’s breath. She wasn’t aware of anything quite so vile. Heavy with ammonia, it burned her nostrils. Sweat beaded on her brow, collected above her eyes and fell the distance to pool on the floor. She could only nod her head in submission.
Then she was standing again, and the Collector wore a blank mask of emotion. He stared at her, not showing any signs of their recent one-sided struggle. Mary, however, was panting hard, rubbing her wrist and barely able to stand.
“Mary! What has gotten into you?” Jon cried. “It is time for me to go. I have lived the life I was given. Please don’t do this!” Jon turned toward the other two Collectors as he depressed the side button again; the cover flipped open revealing the second hand making its slow, final lap. “Gentlemen, please take me away. I am ready.” He walked over to the staircase. The Collectors waited in the doorway.
“Not now, not this way with . . . ,” Mary began in a rambling protest, to no avail.
Jon bent down to one knee, glanced over to Cole, a proud smile creased his face. He managed to slump onto the stairs, resting in a lifeless heap, expired.
Cole nodded, com
placent with the outcome.
Mary wailed.
The Collectors advanced.
Nimbus walked slowly and deliberately along the glass wall running the length of the conference room. Situated at the highest floor of the LifeSpan Extractor Sciences, it offered an expansive view of the surrounding city. Usually, he was filled with power and pride when he was scanning his city, his world. However, today he was disgusted. He raised his hands and waved them across the windows, once, twice and a third time. Each wave tinted the windows down another shade, effectively plunging the room into darkness. Sensing the lack of sunlight, automatic lights started to fill the room with a soft, pale orange glow.
Nimbus approached the head seat of the gathering table. The entire LifeSpan Extractor Sciences Board sat before him. They specialized in the absorption and reassignment of nano data, making them some of the most important men and women on the planet. Nimbus had gathered these great minds to give them an ultimatum.
“Welcome, colleagues,” he greeted. The lights shining up from the tabletop were reflecting under his chin, giving Nimbus a surreal, firelight glow.
A few heads nodded in recognition, and a scattered verbal reply of “Hello, Sire Nimbus” rippled around the table. It was obvious the Doctors were nervous. Their last meeting with Nimbus had not gone so well, leaving them in a serious scientific predicament.
“Recollecting how our last meeting ended, I understand the insecure thoughts you show openly on your faces. I would like to readdress my current situation. Although you have failed me time and time again, I still believe you are my only hope.”
