The Omega Project

by Steve Alten

  “Can you simulate an acid trip? Leave your body? What do colors smell like? Aw, man, what about the sex? If I had ABE, I’d be a maniac!”

  “I think you already are.” I followed my exuberant new companion through the lower level and into the biology lab that held my designated cryogenic pod. “So Jason, are you the one who will be programming my pod?”

  “Pod’s programmed. I’m the one who hot-wires the neural connections just before you go nighty-night. No worries, bro. Never lost a subject yet, except for Alec.”

  “Who’s Alec?”

  “Alec Russell. He was one of our first human guinea pigs. Let’s just say the dude didn’t thaw evenly. Again, no worries. We haven’t had a problem since we perfected the booster shots.”

  “What if the booster shot wears off?”

  “Can’t happen,” Jason said, checking a pressure valve on a pipe inside the cryogenic pod’s chassis. “To put you to sleep, we give you an IV drip that contains anesthetics and a booster activator. The activator mixes with those booster shots you’ve been receiving, essentially shutting down cellular mitosis, along with the aging process. The tetrodotoxin gel seals the deal. Cellular activity remains shut down until the vat drains and your cells come in contact again with oxygen. Doesn’t matter if you’re under a day or a century, until you’re exposed to air, you’re a Popsicle. Hey, ever wonder if ABE can be hacked?”

  “Huh? No. It can’t be hacked; every person’s neural pattern is different.”

  “Right, right. So, what’s a guy have to do to get rigged?”

  “I’ve got the only prototype. The first ABE-100 editions should be available in April.”

  “By April, we’ll be cruising past Mars. Come on, doc, hook me up!”

  “Sorry, Jason.”

  “I’ll make it worth your while. How’d you like to spend the training exercise in one thirty-day-long nocturnal emission?” Jason tapped the cryogenic pod’s control panel. “I call it ‘Omega Memory Injection,’ or OMI for short, as in, ‘oh my, do me again.’ It’s something new I’ve been playing around with. Just before you slip into cryogenic stasis, the sensory helmet engages a prerecorded visual that stimulates the cerebral cortex.”

  “By prerecorded visual, you mean porn?”

  “Hey, whatever you’re into, I don’t judge. I’m into Stackism.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Stackism focuses itself on objectivity and the willingness to try almost anything without prejudging it, as long as it doesn’t inflict harm upon ourselves or others. We named our philosophy after the late, great Robert Stack, who hosted an old TV show called Unsolved Mysteries.” Jason rolled up his sleeve, the words, IN STACK WE TRUST tattooed on his left biceps. “I’m a founding member.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “I knew you’d appreciate it. We think alike, you and I. Stackism seeks out mysteries, then gathers data in order to arrive at logical explanations. You could say cryogenics was an early application of Stackism. I mean, let’s face it, it takes a serious set of balls to be among the first to freeze yourself in goo.”

  “I’m sure your friend, Alec, would agree.” I stared at the sarcophaguslike chamber. My plan had always been to declare every male aboard Oceanus normal, then excuse myself from being frozen, but what if GOLEM ordered me put to sleep?

  “Jason, let’s say you were held in stasis and you got caught up in a really bad dream. Is there a way to wake yourself up?”

  “You’re talking about an emergency flush. Sorry, it’s been written out of the mission protocol.”

  “Why?”

  “Ask GOLEM.”

  I lowered my voice. “What if I don’t want to ask GOLEM? What if I wanted my chamber to maintain an emergency flush as a backup?”

  Jason smiled, leaning in close enough for me to smell the tomato soup on his breath. “I couldn’t do it on the Europa flight, but on the training mission … on just your pod? Yeah, it’s doable. See, your pod isn’t rigged to GOLEM, it’s independent of the Omega twelve.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “The emergency flush is activated neurologically when you recite a passage or code word in your dream.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Omega-wave sleep is different from REM sleep. You maintain access to all memories. The dreams seem very real. Recite the code word and the pod drains, exposing your cells to oxygen.”

  “Do it. Hook my pod up with the emergency command and the moment we get back to the States, I’ll arrange for one of the ABE-100 units to be surgically implanted in your brain, my treat.”

  “Done deal, dude.” Jason Sloan punched the control panel, popping it open. Using a set of jeweler tools and a pair of magnifying specs with a built-in light, he set to work on the circuit board.

  Three minutes later he was finished.

  “That’s it?”

  “Not yet. I removed the override, but you need to program the system with a password or phrase. Something unique that only you would know.” Jason opened the cryogenic pod’s lid, exposing the inside of the tank. A myriad of flex tubes and wires ran throughout the assembly, connecting to a central tub composed of soft plastic, shaped like a seven-foot biped.

  “Who’s this for? A professional basketball player?”

  “The internal suit shrinks when you lay down in it, molding to fit all body types.”

  “Including Yoni?”

  “Yoni was a challenge.” Jason reached inside a storage compartment and removed a paper-thin clear aero gel sensory helmet. “Put this on, the inside of the helmet will conform to the size and shape of your skull. Close your eyes. When you feel a buzz, mentally repeat your phrase or passage three times, then give me a thumbs-up and I’ll shut it down.”

  Following the boy-genius’s instructions, I placed the lightweight helmet on my head. Its curved interior was comfort-fitted and surprisingly soft to the touch. After a moment I could feel its internal skin squeezing gently over my skull, brow, and ears — an electrical vibration tingling my scalp.

  Vanilla sway. Vanilla sway. Vanilla sway.

  I opened my eyes, giving Jason a thumbs-up. The buzzing sensation ceased. Removing the headpiece, I handed it to the cryogenist. “You’re sure this will work?”

  “Sure as I’m standing here. The moment the neural-generated command is received, the pumps activate, draining the tank. Once the tetrodotoxin clears, you get a shot of adrenaline to the heart and you’re conscious again. It’s not how I’d want to be woken up, but it’ll do the trick.”

  “You’re a good man, Jason Sloan. Just keep this little secret between us, and five weeks from now you’ll be smelling colors and exploring all your lost memories.”

  “To hell with that. I want to tap into my primordial DNA, trip on ABE while reliving my existence as a Neanderthal. Better yet, maybe I can claw my way back through evolution, crawling on all fours as a prehistoric mammal!”

  I shook my head. In the world of chocolate and vanilla, Jason Sloan was pistachio.

  13

  First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.

  — MOHANDAS KARAMCHAND GANDHI

  Day nine. My shift over, I entered Stateroom Seven in need of a shower, food, and sleep. I could smell Lara’s perfume as I crossed the living room and entered the bedroom.

  “Good evening.” She was lying in bed, wearing only one of my T-shirts.

  “Lara, what are you still doing here? You’ll be late for your shift.”

  “Thought I’d be bad today.” Raising her model-thin legs, she playfully walked up my chest with her toes, the action exposing her naked lower torso. “Let’s be bad together.”

  I felt my erection growing larger as ABE recorded my egotistical thoughts of revenge sex that I could later flaunt in front of Andria. My groin urged me on like a horny teenager: Just do it, Ike. We need this, Ike. This is therapeutic sex, dude, exactly what the doctor ordered.

  I took a step back, allowing her
legs to fall. “This isn’t going to happen, Lara.”

  “She doesn’t want you, Ike.”

  Listen to her, my groin seemed to urge, she’s making sense.

  I should have taken Lara right then and there, only I couldn’t. Yes, Andria had cheated on me, and yes it was my sworn duty as a man to anesthetize the wound, and I would have except for two things: First, as pathetic as it sounds, I still wanted Andria. Second, and far more important, you don’t just have a one-night stand with a girl like Lara, especially under these circumstances, trapped in a habitat with your former fiancée. Within ten minutes of burying my load the entire crew would know, because Lara would let it be known, since she was territorial, and that would invite a shit storm of biblical proportions. Not because Andria wanted me back, but because Lara would rub it in her face, and the last thing I wanted was to find myself at the center of a catfight with the possible chance of being cryogenically frozen for thirty days, relying on one of those two felines to set me free.

  I avoid looking at her naked body as I backed out of the bedroom. “I’m grabbing a bite to eat. If you’re still here when I get back, I’ll find another place to sleep.”

  Leaving the suite, I jogged around the corridor twice before entering the galley, hoping to alleviate my “pitched tent.”

  Kevin Read was conversing with the Russian nuclear physicist, Egor Vasiliev at the dining table as I made my entrance. Andria was seated at the other end of the table, reading from her h-pad. She looked at me and I looked at her, her female instincts causing her eyes to linger over the front of my jumpsuit like it was a crime scene.

  None of this was lost on Kevin Read, who read the situation and immediately sought to control it. “Eisenbraun, order some dinner and join us.”

  “Can’t,” I said, waving to Dharma Yuan, who was reading at the snack bar. “Got a session with the doc.” I detoured to the food service area, ordered a chicken sandwich and soft drink pouch, then joined the Chinese therapist.

  “We have to stop meeting like this.”

  She looked at me, perplexed. “How do you mean?”

  “It was a joke. You know, last week … when you bailed me out. Anyway, it’s good to see you again. How are things on Alpha shift? What exactly do you do all day?”

  “Among other things, I meditate. As a Bodhisattva, I can register the biorhythms of the entire crew.”

  “Including me?”

  “Especially you. Your presence on this mission is causing chaos among the crew.”

  “Oh, well. I guess thirteen really is an unlucky number.”

  “The problem is theirs. Karma has dictated that you be here.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “How I know is not important. Why you are here is.”

  My peripheral vision caught Andria’s expression as she stood to leave the galley — a “follow me, let’s talk” look.

  “Sorry, Dharma, I have to run. When you find out why I’m here, be sure to let me know.”

  Pocketing my dinner pouches, I left the dining hall, hustling to catch up with my former fiancée. “Hey, Andie. I just wanted to thank you for letting me share your bed.”

  At that moment, Lara exited her suite, shooting me a nasty look as she walked by.

  Like I said — shit storm.

  “What’s with the squid lady?”

  “She wanted me to share more than her bed.”

  “And have you?”

  I stopped her from walking. “You know me, Andie. Lust is a primordial urge. I’ve always aspired to something deeper.”

  She smiled. “You’re such a dork.”

  “Maybe. But I’d never cheat on someone I love.”

  Her smile faded. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  I was about to reply when the Russian scientist approached. “You are assigned to me tomorrow morning. Lower level, nuclear reactor. Do not be late.”

  I waited for him to disappear around the corridor. “Friendly guy. And you call me antisocial.”

  To my surprise, Andria slid her fingers inside my palm. “I checked the duty roster, you’re free on day thirteen. Why don’t you join me aboard my mini-sub, I’ll show you how we intend to hunt sea critters on Europa.”

  She kissed me quickly then walked away, the taut backseat of her jumpsuit the only critter I was interested in hunting.

  14

  Ideas are more powerful than guns. We would not let our enemies have guns, why should we let them have ideas.

  — JOSEPH STALIN

  Day thirteen and somehow it seemed as if I had come full circle; Andria playing the huntress; me once more her faithful companion.

  I held on for dear life as she banked the two-man sub away from the seafloor like a teenager with a learner’s permit, the turbulence chasing the eight-foot octopus from out of hiding.

  “So? Are you going to marry him?”

  “We broke up.” The sub lurched violently as Andria chased after the frightened cephalopod. Adjusting my own eyepiece, feeling my pulse pounding, I focused on the black sea, which now appeared pea-soup green.

  “Don’t just sit there and crawl up into your brain — say something, damn it.”

  “I thought he was what you wanted?”

  “I was wrong.”

  Andria aimed her weapon’s laser target over her quarry, her index finger squeezing the pistol-like trigger by her right leg with her index finger. An explosion of compressed air belched out of the end of the submersible’s mechanical arm, blooming into a neon yellow net that engulfed the octopus in the split second it takes a frog’s snapping tongue to feed upon a fly.

  I watched the octopus struggling in the net. Andria startled me by entwining the fingers of her right hand in mine.

  “Ike, is it too late for us?”

  I laid my head back against the leather seat. “What about Europa?”

  “Come with us.”

  I smirked. “Six years aboard Oceanus with Commander Testosterone? Yeah, that should make for a real love fest. Imagine if I had slept with Lara. Would you be so quick to accept the Europa mission?”

  “Probably not.”

  I exhaled deeply. For days, I had played out this very scene in my head, the lovers’ chess game always ending in a stalemate. “I guess this is it then. Tomorrow night you guys get frozen, while I have a nice thirty-day chat with the computer.”

  “What about Kevin? Your report?”

  “I’m scheduled to meet with El Capitán later tonight — not that it matters. I’ve already decided to give your male shipmates a clean bill of health.”

  Andria turned away, her lower lip quivering.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “I screwed up.” Tears were free-falling down her cheeks. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “What if you told GOLEM that Kevin was the sociopath? Would you come with me to Europa then?”

  “Jesus, Andie.”

  She unzipped her jumpsuit six inches, then pressed my palm to her left breast. I leaned over to kiss her, only to be clenched by the cursed support harness. She snapped me free, and the two of us went at it, Andria engaging the autopilot with one hand, me with the other as I tore at the zipper of her jumpsuit, unleashing those tanned breasts …

  “Andria, report! Is everything all right?”

  She was on top of me, half naked, tearing at my jumpsuit. Panting, she reached overhead for the radio. “Everything’s fine, Commander.”

  “You engaged the autopilot.”

  “Just testing the system.”

  I sucked on a nipple, my fingers reaching to touch her below.

  “Your batteries are below eight percent. Return to Oceanus at once. That’s an order.”

  She slammed the radio back on its cradle and climbed off me, the two of us panting heavily. “Come see me tonight … nine o’clock in my cabin. I’ll cook us a real dinner.”

  “Nine o’clock. What’s on the m
enu … besides you?”

  “My favorite.” She grinned, pointing out the cockpit glass to the bundle of tentacles. “Calamari.”

  * * *

  I showered, packed, then watched the original Planet of the Apes on Lara’s micro-disc player, killing two hours. At 8:47 P.M. I left the stateroom and headed for the galley. The dining hall was empty, the lights dimmed to maintain a night-shift ambiance. Stepping up to the food selector, I scanned the beverage menu, selecting a wine cooler. “Four please.”

  “Alcohol is a regulated beverage. You are permitted two servings per twenty-four hour period.”

  “Two are for Andria Saxon.”

  “Crewman Saxon must order her own alcoholic beverage.”

  “Whatever … fine. Give me two wine coolers to go.”

  “Today is October 7, 2028. Cryogenic stasis is scheduled for October 8, 2028, at twelve hundred hours. Alcohol is not to be consumed within thirty-six hours of cryogenic stasis. Request denied.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” I turned to leave — coming face to face with Dharma Yuan. She was barefoot, her body cloaked in nothing but a longgua, a traditional Chinese surcoat once worn by a court concubine. The sheer, dark apparel was made of silk and gold-wrapped metal thread, ornamented with dragon medallions and a variety of Buddhist characters, including bats, which according to ABE, symbolized happiness. Over her heart, tossed in the waves of the sea was a light green disc representing the moon.

  She looked quite ravishing, but my attention was elsewhere.

  “Robert, we need to talk.”

  “Can’t it wait until morning?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I was hoping to get a six-pack to go, but the principal said no.”

  “I meant, why are you here on this training mission?”

  “I thought you were figuring that one out?”

  “I have been trying … channeling in an attempt to understand. The messages I have been receiving are quite disturbing.”

  With Andria waiting for me, the last thing I needed now was to engage Dharma in some wacky Buddhist philosophical diatribe. “If you must know, I’m here because the Pentagon was worried about the mental health one of the male members of Omega’s crew. Everyone checked out, so it’s all cool. False alarm.”