by Chris Ramos
Henry dropped his digiscreen, put his arms in front of him in a feeble show of distance, and backed away from Adel. She was crying now, tears running in long streaks down her cheeks. Henry was staring at her, too absorbed in the overwhelming wrongness of the situation, unaffected by her misery. He could only shake his head and wave his hands, fending off an unseen swarm of bugs. Henry began to back away, his eyes darting around the room, expecting to be struck down as an abomination of nature. His back struck the glass door that led into his prized garden. Adel began to falter for him, her shrieking emphasized by her uncontrolled sobbing.
Henry was trapped. His mind whirled, finally settling on a desperate plan. He threw the door open and loped into his backyard. It was the stumbling, frantic run of a man fleeing a great danger, except this danger was in his mind. He knocked over a potted plant, the dirt and leaves spraying across his meticulously swept patio. Henry darted the length of his property, which sat high atop a mountain outcropping. Adel jogged out the back door, across his lovely gardens, and as she screamed, he lunged off the mountain’s edge. His last thoughts were of trampling his wonderful garden.
DUEL
Cole was worried for Tym. Their hideout had been stormed by Collectors shortly after Trina left. Cole was bloodied in more than one spot, his pants were torn and now his jaw was throbbing with pain. He was bleeding all over the vest Tym gave him.
Sci Tym had forced this vest on Cole as he fought the raiders, yelling for Cole to flee.
I think Tym escaped. I ran the best I could, but they were everywhere, Cole remembered. Then they were all over me, capturing me and throwing me into the lion’s den. This was Nimbus’s sanctuary.
Nimbus was not happy when the Collectors dropped him off. He still wasn’t happy. He had just thrown Cole across the room, again, more violently than minutes ago.
Maybe one of these pockets has a napkin? No time for jokes, Cole. He knew Nimbus was toying with him. If Cole was within a few paces, Nimbus lashed out. He moved faster than anyone Cole had ever seen. Faster than he thought possible. Nimbus struck with a viper’s snap, and Cole was easily flung away each time.
“You dare oppose me? I have created and destroyed entire civilizations! You cannot reverse what I have set in motion.” Nimbus spoke softly and so matter-of-factly, most people believed every word. He was lecturing Cole, playing with him, keeping pace across the room and around the furnishings. “Finally after millennia of war and senseless slaughter, we have halted our own self destruction. We have evolved. We have strengthened ourselves to erase the fear of death itself!”
“Nothing was erased! You veiled peace while you cut our lives short. Your self-imposed expirations mean nothing.” Cole was gaining momentum now. Although they had been debating these same issues ever since the Collectors dragged Cole aboard, he knew the only chance Sci Tym had was for Cole to stall Nimbus.
Sure, this is going so well, Tym. Take your time. Thanks again for the vest. I’m probably going to die wearing it, Cole thought as he jumped to his feet and took his time connecting each clasp on the front. Acting smug, he replied, “You have no power over me.”
Cole barely saw the fist this time. He tried to dodge it by snapping his head back. The move saved him from a direct hit; however, his shoulder caught and he tumbled across a desk. Digiscreens and building models landed with him as he slid over and down.
Nimbus stared down at Cole. “Are you implying the expirations have anything to do with fear? They are in place to eliminate fear.”
Cole reached over his head and grabbed the desk edge, pulling himself to his feet.
“It’s really quite sad, Cole. If you give someone an expiration date and have them truly believe the allotted time is all they have left, the human body will rebel upon itself.” Nimbus turned his back on Cole, walking away. “You see, the body and mind work together, and when the mind gives up, the body follows. Then the natural expiration process has begun.”
“I suppose you never had that problem?” Cole asked. “Are you beyond human? Some kind of immortal?”
Nimbus did not turn back to face Cole as he stopped. Nimbus glanced at the ceiling, deep in thought, and he closed his eyes. Cole had asked the correct question. Finally, he was on the right path.
Nimbus was actually keeping his mind clear. Holding the other voice at bay was a constant struggle, but Nimbus always found a way. He was in control.
“Oh, I assure you, I am very much human. Just like you. Although, you are nothing but a boy when compared to my age,” said Nimbus. “I opened my mind to immortality. I have learned of the limitless possibilities within our souls.
“You see, we do have the technology to enter immortality,” he explained. “In fact, when LifeSpan was but a fledgling child itself, we willingly gave the secrets of immortality to the entire populace.”
Nimbus looked back at Cole. “Oh, it was perfection, continual life, free from our single biggest fear at that time, our oldest foe: death. But then something happened. The population grew reckless and bored. Accidents were rapidly increasing as the populace lost respect of their bodies. They relied on the nanos to repair almost any amount of damage. There was no care for person or property. We sped along at a rapid pace of almost constant upgrades to the Nanomedicine technology. But that wasn’t our worst problem.”
“I think I can guess.” Cole started walking a wide circle around Nimbus. This topic kept Nimbus thinking, which meant distance between them, and Cole hoped that meant less kicking to his head. “The people wanted to live their own lives, free from your oppression.”
“Not oppression, Cole. They wanted order restored. Written on the very fiber of our being is the availability of death. Humans treat it as a finish line, with your entire life as the race to be judged. Will you have a gold medal at the end of it all? Will there be an end? If there is nothing to lose from death, we cared for nothing during life. We stopped trying, my boy. We stopped improving.” Nimbus paused, and turned to face Cole.
“They just needed someone to tell them when to end their life,” Nimbus stated matter-of-factly.
REBOOT
Dr. Nigel slid the glove off, dropping it to the floor. His body felt heavy, and so very tired. The nanos were not feeding adrenaline or energy into his tired muscles. He closed the distance to Trina, with the sensation of trudging through water.
“So this is what it feels like? Without help from my friendly nanos?” Dr. Nigel quipped. “I believe running is out of the question. It’s a good thing we just have to sit and wait for Tym now.”
That much was true. Sticking to the plan, Trina sent Tym the signal. He was reprogramming the nanos. Breaking their connection to LifeSpan was one-half of the reboot. The other was their healing ability. Trina devoted her life to improving Nanomedicine. If this reprogramming was successful, it would enable the populations to still have the healthy, repairing benefits of the nanos without the LifeSpan-controlled expiration.
Tym’s message blipped back to Trina’s digiscreen. System reboot in 7 minutes.
“Nigel, we have a brief moment before systems are back up with Tym’s personal touches. Before we were rudely interrupted by this whole saving-the-world nano-style, you mentioned your date of Receiving. I would very much like to hear about that.”
“Ah, yes. I was only a boy at that time. Young, perhaps eight or nine. I showed great promise, and when I excelled beyond my peers, the LifeSpan Praetor of my sector noticed,” Nigel reminisced. “I was entrusted with a vast amount of knowledge at this very sensitive age. My cerebral Receiving was not taken well, and I spent nearly a week in my room. Mumbling, typing excessively. However, I learned to control the information. I studied and grew. I researched and built my reputation with determination. I haven’t updated my nanos since that original Receiving.”
The wall screens began their slow glow, booting back to their original brightness, as the nano population came back online. Nigel knew millions of people would be feeling better in just a short while. It was an odd feeling
to have your nanos turned off. Many would not realize what had just transpired.
Nigel turned to Trina. “In fact, I would deduce, your nano tech is more updated that I am.”
Trina stared at him with newfound respect. He was a true Doctor—pledged to help and driven through his research. That’s what also made him a good Sci. Perhaps the future would lead to merging of more professions.
“You should be proud of what you have accomplished,” Trina said.
The room filled with light. Every screen was back to full capacity, and across the globe, nanos were back online. The spider-webbed grid of interconnected LifeSpan control was gone. Dr. Nigel felt his breathing come more easily, his hearing grow clearer, and he stood straighter, puffing out his chest.
“Welcome back, little guys,” he said into his arm, petting his skin.
“Now, that is weird,” Trina laughed, and pulled out her digiscreen.
Systems back. LifeSpan’s out. Great job Tym, she typed.
No sooner had Trina sent the message than the room began to shake. Trina grabbed for the desk, thinking the whole building was coming down, only to realize the room wasn’t moving; instead it was every screen pulsing and wobbling, creating a vertigo in their control room. Trina could barely hold herself up.
“What is happening?” she cried out.
Dr. Nigel was also attempting to stand while looking at his data, trying to find an explanation. The screens split off again, like before, with each separate Holowall showing the many sectors across the world. The data began re-sorting on its own, categorizing the populace. Listing their nanos. The models. The types. The origins.
Nine screens shifted to the center of the room, their edges turning a pale red. Dr. Nigel noticed that these were the earliest models of nanos still active in the world. Most likely their hosts were simple folk, filling basic duties to help their particular sector. The spider web reconnected to them, back to the LifeSpan database, becoming one hive mind.
FORCE EXPIRATION. ‘blip’
The screens emptied. Every name. Gone.
“NO!” Trina and Dr. Nigel screamed together.
Thousands were on those screens. Parents. Friends. Children.
Expired.
Trina grabbed her digiscreen and called Tym. She was aware their connection could be traced, but no longer cared. “Tym! The system is shutting down. It’s reconnecting everyone and forcing expirations.” She stared at her screen. Where was he? “Tym, we need you. Something went wrong. Please Tym, people are dying. The system started with the oldest nanos; maybe that can help you. It’s picking them off in order of . . .”
Trina looked up at Dr. Nigel. “Oh, Doctor, when was your last Receiving?”
Cole could hardly believe this conversation.
“Are you playing with their lives and their souls?”
“Oh don’t be so melodramatic, Cole. Humans are vegetation, slowly withering away. We are nature’s greatest fertilizer! They just need someone to tell them when it’s time to enrich the soil. We are in charge of writing our own history now,” Nimbus continued calmly, watching Cole walk the perimeter of his council room.
“That’s you? You are the creator and destroyer? The Father told me about your history together. He was your prodigy! Did you think you could just erase him too?”
“The Father,” Nimbus spit the name out. He pointed at Cole. “Do you even know his real name?”
“Yes, he told me it was Alexander.” Cole retreated around the desk, keeping distance between them.
“Correct, boy,” Nimbus mocked. “I knew him as Alexander Jenkins. The children learn of him early in their education as Dr. Montgomery. They sing his name. We love Montgomery, for he has created a great many things. We even named hospitals after him. Do you remember?”
Cole felt the air leave his lungs. His mother’s diary suddenly came flooding through his memory. Alexander was the name of her father. Could this be true? Was the Father of the Movement his grandfather?
Nimbus continued to smile as he took a seat in his high-backed white chair. “I find it ironic that somehow I have become your enemy when your trusted leader keeps his own sordid past from you. The Father, indeed.”
“He was a Father to me! He was a great man who knew evil when he saw it, and he was the only one who would stand up to your kind! Just like Emma!”
Enraged by Nimbus’s dismissive tone and hoping to take advantage of a now-seated and defenseless Nimbus, Cole ran at Nimbus, closing the gap with pure hatred fueling his rage.
“Our kind? Why dear boy, the only thing he was a Father to was his greatest creation. We were partners, that is true, but he was the one who created the Collectors.”
Cole stopped his charge, still twenty feet away. Again, he was caught totally off guard by Nimbus and his revelations.
“That’s impossible,” Cole refused. “The Collectors have been around since the beginning of LifeSpan. You said so yourself. That was hundreds of years ago.”
“So was our partnership. You still haven’t opened your mind! How could the mortality rate change so drastically overnight?”
Cole was trying to follow.
“If the nanos repair our deficiencies automatically while keeping the body in excellent physical condition forever, what is the obvious side effect?” Nimbus led Cole to the answer, waiting for his response with a smile.
“Immortality,” Cole replied.
“Exactly.” Nimbus was still sitting. “Cole Jenkins, your grandfather left LifeSpan and decided to start a family. He was 270 years old when your mother was born. I am three years older than him. He should have respected his elder. I was always wiser.”
For the second time tonight, Cole felt his legs go numb. Why couldn’t he gain the upper hand with Nimbus? It seemed he was being led along all this time. He felt his head spin, and had no choice but to sit down across from Nimbus, place his hands on the tabletop for support, and watch the room spin around him.
The two sat staring at each other for some time. Cole was losing this debate.
“If you are so old, and you say it is directly linked to the nanos in your body, in all of our bodies, why wouldn’t you set the expirations of the entire world population to live hundreds of years?” Cole was grasping for a mental handhold.
“Let me ask you this: would you readily accept the sudden change in a lifespan?”
Cole thought about the question. In one aspect, it would obviously allow civilizations the benefit of time, eliminating the need to rush through projects, family time, work, love. On the other hand, Cole could see the attraction for procrastination that would last a lifetime.
Nimbus assumed the lecturer role once again. “The human mind is comfortable within the arms of repetition. Psychologically, we can handle change, as long as it comes in measured bursts. We saw the signs in our early test subjects, some of the first humans with nanos fully integrated into their systems. There were discoveries everyday. We were fueled with a powerful inner energy, tuned motor skills, sharp minds; everything was amazing and new. The testing continued with incredible success, until we revealed to our test subjects that they would live for hundreds of years or longer.”
“How did they take that?” Cole asked.
“Unexpectedly, not very well at all. I thought they would be overjoyed. We were handing them practical immortality!”
“Is that when you took it all back? The great introduction of forced expirations?” Cole pushed his chair back and stood once more.
“You are half-right on that one. Alexander and I worked together for many years, generations to be exact. We slowly worked expirations into the system. The fools, they were happy to die. I could not let the combined evolution of mankind go to waste. There was an incredible amount of potential stored inside each nano. I only needed a moment before their death to absorb the advances.”
“Unfortunately, our next step drove your grandfather to . . . extreme measures. Which, in turn, left me to take extreme prejudice against hi
m. He fled LifeSpan with information I would be—”
“I heard the story. He told me you hunted him. Like an animal! I won’t let that happen again, not to anyone!”
“So driven, yet so naive. Cole, you are out of your element. What do you propose? Returning civilization as we know it to the chaos of its previous incarnation? Are you their savior now? Come to kill me? Do you even think that is possible?”
“Let’s find out. You have to be stopped. This is wrong. Civilization doesn’t need you to tell them when to die.”
“No, Cole. It would seem your friends are doing that for me,” Nimbus teased.
“What are you talking about?”
“Trina? Dr. Nigel? They have failed. Blood is on their hands, and the toll is rising.”
Dr. Nigel could only stare, his entire body numb.
“What have we done?” he whispered. The screens shook and lined up, side by side to one another. FORCE EXPIRATION. Twelve screens. Eighteen screens. Twenty-nine screens. He could hear Trina yelling. Distantly. He failed. They all failed. And humanity was paying the price. He was Dr. Death. He was the Sci of Pestilence. He fell to his knees as another group of screens shifted, lined up and turned red.
Trina was there, grabbing at his coat, forcing him to his feet. She was screaming at him now. He could see that, but heard nothing. Cared for nothing. It was over.
Trina threw the worthless Dr. Nigel onto his workspace. She knew their only hope was Galen’s glove, and as she slipped on the gauntlet, the screens responded. She threw her palm forward, pushing the screens apart, throwing them across the room, to the ceiling, and shuffling them in the air. They sorted themselves, gathering again, and she threw her hand out, scattering the screens once more.
She could not control the glove. She was never trained in that, but she could scatter the screens with just the force of her will.
“Nigel! You have a duty to uphold. You took an oath to heal humanity no matter the circumstances! Get up! They need you. The entire world needs you now.” She threw her hand out again, and the screens came back faster. They regrouped, and flew past her. Trina swung around. FORCE EXPIRATION. Too late. That was a huge group, over fifty-six screens. Trina was sobbing between her pleas to Nigel and her frantic screen sliding. “Doctor!! Your mother knew you were the healer! There are more mothers and sons, hopeful of their futures. They need you now. They need a Doctor.” Trina’s voice cracked as she wept for the dead, and the Doctor stood.
