The Fox Inheritance

by Mary E. Pearson

  I don't like the way she talks about Dr. Gatsbro. If not for him, we would still be there, in the place we don't even mention because just a few words about it can make us both go dead for hours. Even though he can be suffocating in his own way at times, Dr. Gatsbro is the one who saved us.

  Hey, you're the one who wanted to crush his head like an egg.

  I jerk away and stop walking. "Stop it, Kara. Stop going where you shouldn't."

  She smiles. "I don't know what you're talking about, Locke." She grabs my hand and pulls me through the door, her new shoes clicking on the marble as we walk down the hall. She turns at the stairs.

  "Not his study?" I ask.

  "No, the solarium. I guess he wants a more cheery, casual setting. Does that help put you at ease? Maybe the visitor is a gardener, or an orchid specialist, or something earthy. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  "Yes, maybe I would. You think that's it? Dr. Gatsbro does love his orchids."

  "Absolutely."

  The solarium is on the other side of the house, a long walk down two hallways and past several rooms, most of which hold various artifacts that Dr. Gatsbro has collected. One room is full of doorknobs. Glass doorknobs, brass doorknobs, wooden doorknobs, some that look as common as the ones that we had in our house on Francis Street. They are on display in suspended gravity cases so you can see them from all angles. Another room, much more interesting, is filled with books, the real kind that I remember. The kind with paper and bindings. They are in glass cases, not for reading or touching, only for admiring.

  We turn the last corner and walk through the double doors that lead into the solarium. Now that I'm here, I find I'm less anxious than I am curious. A visitor. Finally. Their backs are to us when we enter. On hearing our footsteps, Dr. Gatsbro turns around and the visitor follows his lead.

  "Ah! There you are! Come in, come in, Kara and Locke! Come meet our special guest." Right away I guess he knows nothing about gardens or orchids. He wears a bright blue tunic that falls past his knees. Beneath that are billowing white pants. Even for someone like me who can barely distinguish one shirt from another it's obvious that his clothes are impeccably tailored from a fine fabric. He holds his hand out to shake ours. He takes Kara's first and lifts it to his lips. He lingers. Kara coyly pulls away.

  "A pleasure, Mademoiselle Manning."

  "All mine, m'sieur."

  He takes my hand next. "And you are Locke Jenkins." He holds my hand, squeezing, not hard, but like he is trying to feel for something beneath my skin--something like bones.

  "Yes, I know. I'm Locke. And you are?"

  "Forgive me," Dr. Gatsbro says. "Kara and Locke, please meet my friend Mr. Jafari. Let's go sit. Greta's brought us some refreshments."

  Kara and I sit together on a wicker settee, and across a low glass table, Dr. Gatsbro and Mr. Jafari sit in large, comfortable wicker chairs.

  "Where are you visiting from, Mr. Jafari?" I ask.

  He hesitates, glancing over at his host. Dr. Gatsbro nods his okay, and Mr. Jafari turns back to me. "I'm from Tunisar. Are you familiar with my country?"

  "We haven't visited there--yet," Kara answers. "But we'd love to. Isn't that right, Locke?"

  "Yes, of course," I say. "It was once part of India, wasn't it?"

  "Yes, that's right, and also China, but a long time ago."

  "What brings you to the States?" I ask.

  He offers another sideways glance, and Dr. Gatsbro takes over. "He's heard about some of the work I'm doing, and after visiting my labs in Manchester, he wanted to know more, so I invited him out here to the estate. I've told him a little about you two, but I think he'd like to hear more about your remarkable journey. Kara, dear, would you mind?"

  Kara tilts her head and smiles sweetly. "Of course, Dr. Gatsbro." The well-rehearsed song and dance begins. In almost the same word-for-word review as this morning, Kara begins, her hands gesturing at all the right moments, Mr. Jafari, hanging on every word, mesmerized by details, but more than the details, mesmerized by Kara. When she stands for effect and walks to the nearby table of orchids, his eyes never blink as they follow her. Her pauses are near perfection, delicately cupping a butterfly orchid and lowering her thick lashes like she is in deep thought. Mr. Jafari leans forward, literally on the edge of his seat.

  "... And finally, after two and a half centuries, the right person came along--someone with the resources, expertise, and vision--to give us a second chance, our very own Dr. Gatsbro."

  Mr. Jafari stands and joins her at the table, taking her hand in both of his. "What a remarkable journey, indeed." He reaches out and touches her cheek, his palm resting there. I watch Kara strain to maintain her smile. "Remarkable," he says again.

  She steps away. "Why don't you tell him the rest, Locke?"

  Mr. Jafari returns to his seat, and the spotlight turns to me. I know my performance won't be as flawless as Kara's, and I am not sure why it matters so much to Dr. Gatsbro anyway. I reach for one of the small lemon cookies Greta has brought us and stuff the whole thing into my mouth.

  "Locke?" Dr. Gatsbro prompts.

  I nod and wash the cookie down with some tea. I'm on. "Well, as Kara said, after a very long time, Dr. Gatsbro finally came along with the right technology and managed to restore our bodies." Use the word restore, Locke. It sounds more natural than create. "He used photos and videos to achieve perfect likenesses, so every detail of the restoration was an exact match." Except cowlicks. "He even used our retrieved DNA specimens to engineer our tissue so that we have our original unique identity." But we're not who we once were. We've changed. Especially Kara. Was it all those years of being trapped in a six-inch cube that changed us? Or maybe after so long, parts of us simply dissolved away. Could that happen? Or maybe parts of us just gave up, parts like hope and connection. Or maybe after so long it's natural for us to be filled with grief and anger about all that we've lost. We've lost everything but each other. When we woke, Dr. Gatsbro gave us a month to grieve before our lessons began. A month was not nearly enough.

  "And?"

  I look at my hand squeezed into a tight fist. I've lapsed again. Exactly what he warned me not to do. I look at Dr. Gatsbro and see the anger simmering behind his eyes. Focus, Locke.

  "Dr. Gatsbro used the latest generation of Bio Gel--BioTen--to accomplish all this, but then he took it one step further and reengineered it so we could return to a life that was completely normal."

  If you call being illegal normal. If having every inch of your skin look like you but not feel like you can be called normal. If 260 years of no breath, no light, no touch, and no hope is normal, then yes, I guess we're completely normal.

  "Truly remarkable." Mr. Jafari leans forward. "Tell me more about it, Locke."

  "Well, it's a lot like the original Bio Gel developed by Fox BioSystems. It's an oxygenated gel filled with microscopic biochips. They communicate and specialize very much like human cells do. When properly modified, the gel can replace all damaged body systems, actually communicating with intact cells to deliver everything they need for repair and--"

  "Were you always this knowledgeable about science, Locke?"

  Me? Never. I was bored by science in school. Can't you see I've been carefully coached, you moron? Dr. Gatsbro lifts his chin, anticipating my answer.

  "Yes," I say. "Science was always a strong interest of mine." I hear the weakness of my voice and how utterly unconvincing I am. After an uncomfortable pause and a glance from Kara, I try to recover. "The important thing is that we have our lives back--a second chance."

  Mr. Jafari smiles.

  Dr. Gatsbro takes over, apparently not taking any more chances with awkward pauses. He pours more tea and quickly fills the silence.

  "As Locke was saying, BioTen is much like the original, but of course as the tenth generation, it has seen many improvements. For instance, the original Bio Gel was quite susceptible to temperature changes. Not so with BioTen, which can withstand temperatures far above and below the
human standard. BioTen also doesn't have the input delay of earlier generations. Once the mind is uploaded, it is fully functioning. As for their actual bodies, they're not artificial in the sense that they are made of foreign materials. They are 80 percent human--far exceeding the current standard requirement. They even have blood running through their veins. Engineered blood, but still real blood. Every ounce of them is better and smarter and stronger because it is all bioengineered. Their bones, their flesh, digestive and nervous systems, all human-based and fused with not just BioTen but with the latest breakthrough--the one that's only available through Gatsbro Technologies. True, it's not legal yet, but that's just the point, it really doesn't matter. Under a standard microscan, the biochips even look like human cells. Kara and Locke could walk through any security scanner without causing so much as a blip. We call it BioPerfect. And because it's our own exclusive development and not under the constraints of government agencies, we don't impose end dates on BioPerfect the way the government does with BioTen. It's completely up to the recipient--a typical human age span of one hundred thirty years, or whatever the recipient requests."

  An end date? Why didn't he ever tell us about that before? We have an end date?

  It's time we know, don't you think? Kara stands and smiles, her arms held out like she is taking in life with one big breath. "Perhaps Mr. Jafari would like to know about our end dates, Doc?"

  Dr. Gatsbro looks at Kara, reading the disaster in her smile as easily as I do. He is just now recognizing his slip. "Yes, of course," he says. He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. "Kara and Locke do not have end dates. Since they were unavailable to consult with prior to their restoration, we simply will allow the BioPerfect to run its own course, which we expect to be four to six hundred years. Of course, unforeseen traumas can still happen, which might shorten their lives, but they will never have to worry about disease or the natural progression of age."

  Mr. Jafari nods. "BioPerfect," he repeats slowly, like he is envisioning all that it might mean.

  We have end dates. Four to six hundred years. How could he not tell us that?

  "And their minds?" Mr. Jafari asks. "How did you get them to work with this technology?"

  "Minds are simply uploaded into a central datasphere and they immediately begin functioning, communicating with the rest of the BioPerfect just the way the brain communicates with cells and nerves in a typical human body."

  "No, I mean, does it all come through intact? After all that time? Nothing is left behind?"

  "I think the proof is before your eyes. We have two completely normal and fully functioning people."

  "Yes, I can see that." He turns to Dr. Gatsbro and says in a low voice that Kara and I can easily hear, "Was anything ... added?"

  Dr. Gatsbro reaches into his pocket. "Absolutely not. I understand your concerns, Mr. Jafari, and they are valid." He pulls out a scanner. "But Kara and Locke are as free-willed as you and I. There is not one bit of programming in them that would make them anything remotely like a BioBot. Be my guest." He offers the scanner to Mr. Jafari.

  Jafari doesn't take it from him and instead reaches into his own pocket. "I'll use my own, if you don't mind."

  Mr. Jafari turns to us. "May I?" Kara and I both nod. Dr. Gatsbro warned us the visitor might want to make sure we had no BioBot programming in us.

  He runs the scan on Kara first and then on me. "All I detect is an iScroll?"

  "Yes, I have an iScroll patch." I show him my palm.

  "So do I," he says, showing me his. "I just wanted to make sure that's all it was. I have one last question about the uploading." He steps closer to me and whispers, "All that time alone, the waiting. Was it painful?"

  Dr. Gatsbro intervenes, patting me on the shoulder. "No, of course not. There is no sensory input, so--"

  "No." Mr. Jafari swiftly raises his hand in a stopping motion. "I want to hear it from him." He lowers his hand and repeats, "Was any of it painful, Locke?"

  No light.

  No touch.

  Only my thoughts. All the steps that couldn't be taken back. All the wondering. All the guilt about what couldn't be undone. And then anger for a sentence that didn't fit the crime. Throw in some hopelessness, and it was like acid sizzling over eyes that wouldn't shut. Centuries of it that I could at least share with Kara when we could share nothing else. Painful does not begin to describe it.

  I look at Kara.

  Tell him. Tell him about our tea party in hell.

  I look at Dr. Gatsbro, his lower lip twitching, as he struggles to be silent the way Mr. Jafari requested. An image of my father flashes through my mind, my father biting his lower lip and struggling for words to tell me that my brother was gone and never coming home again. I was only twelve at the time. I didn't understand about leaving yet and the changes my brother's absence would bring. I didn't know about the power or the pressure yet. But I feel the pressure and the power of my reply now, like if I say the wrong thing, we might all disappear the same way my brother did. I can't see Dr. Gatsbro anymore--only my father trying not to break.

  I finally shake my head. "Sorry it's taking me so long to answer, but I barely remember it. Really," I say. "I guess it's like Dr. Gatsbro says. Without any sensory input, it's more like a dreamworld, or limbo. No pain. Sorry, I wish I could remember more."

  I'm convincing. For once, utterly convincing. I lift the corner of my mouth in the grin that puts Dr. Gatsbro at ease. It works with Mr. Jafari too. He smiles and nods. "Excellent," he says. I watch Dr. Gatsbro's chest and shoulders drop half an inch.

  Good boy, Locke. You're sure to get a good treat for that.

  I look sharply at Kara. I can't seem to shut her out today. She is finding secret ways back in.

  Jafari turns to Dr. Gatsbro. "I think perhaps we need to talk in more depth about the future of Gatsbro Technologies."

  "Of course. Kara and Locke must leave anyway for their studies with Hari."

  Mr. Jafari turns to us. "It has been inspiring to meet you both, and as we say in my country, I wish you long roads of sunshine and short paths of trouble." He gently bows and takes Kara's hand one last time, pressing it to his lips. Kara nods, acknowledging his kiss with a seductive smile and glance from beneath lowered lashes. She even manages to make her cheeks tinge pink, when I know every drop of blood running through her is as cold as ice. He takes my hand next, this time not searching for bones but looking directly into my eyes, perhaps looking for any last traces of regret. My year of study and 500 billion biochips have given me skills I never had before. I control every twitch of my face, every pause, every contraction of my pupils, to mask what he is looking for. It is not for sharing.

  "I hope we'll get to visit again, Mr. Jafari," I say. "Enjoy your stay in our country."

  Dr. Gatsbro puts his arms around our shoulders and walks us to the door. "Thank you for your refreshing insights, children."

  We're older than you, asshole.

  Kara reaches up and kisses Dr. Gatsbro on the cheek, looking over his shoulder at Mr. Jafari as she does so. "Our pleasure, Doc." She has never kissed his cheek before, and it throws him off, but only for a moment. He smiles and sends us on our way.

  Kara is right. We're not children. But we're not filled with the wisdom of the ages, either. Even after decades of thinking and thinking and thinking, I don't feel wise at all. It's other people who make us wise, and I haven't known nearly enough.

  Chapter 10

  Kara is unusually silent as we play boules. She is not usually one for games, but she immediately suggested a match on the lawn when we left the solarium, insisting that Hari and his lessons could wait. Miesha followed us out, bringing along drinks, even though Kara growled that we didn't need any. Kara watches Miesha more carefully than the ball, which she flings carelessly across the lawn.

  "Why did you even suggest playing if you aren't going to take it seriously?" I reach for a ball on the rack. Kara glares at me and then looks back at Miesha.

  "We have to
get out of here, Locke. Today." Her voice is low, and her lips barely move.

  I take aim. "What are you talking about? We can't just leave. When Dr. Gatsbro thinks we're ready--"

  She leans close, her voice a bitter hush. "For God's sake, wake up! He will never be ready for us to leave! Don't you get it?"

  I look at her and frown. I am tired of the theatrics. "Get what?"

  I begin to throw my ball, but she knocks it out of my hand. "We're floor models! That's why he brought Jafari here!"

  "Floor models? For what? Give it a rest, Kara." I take another ball from the rack and throw it across the lawn. It bumps Kara's out of bounds.

  She grabs my arm, digging her fingernails into my skin. Her voice turns flat and cool as she spits out her words. "You are so naive, sometimes you make me sick. You swallow every hook like a big, stupid fish. Why do you think Jafari wanted to know if it was painful? He wasn't concerned about you. He wanted to know what it would be like for him."

  Essential. It is essential he see how truly exceptional you both are.

  I flash back to the expectation in Mr. Jafari's eyes. I feel his hand searching for the bones in mine. My mouth opens, but I don't speak--I'm still trying to run back through clues. Is it possible?

  "Sometimes you are such a child, Locke! I'm leaving. Do you get that? I'm leaving."

  She turns and stomps away. I watch her walk back to the house.

  "What's Her High and Mightiness in a snit about now?" Miesha asks.

  I look at Miesha. Could it be true? We are nothing more than floor models? Trotted out on stage periodically to be shown off to potential customers of Gatsbro Technologies? Illegal lifelines for those who don't want to die?

  "Locke?"

  Exceptional. I'm four inches taller now than I was before. More muscular. No cowlicks. My teeth several shades whiter--and straighter. Green flecks in my eyes. Were they ever really there? I had assumed the differences were by accident, but Dr. Gatsbro leaves nothing to chance.