by Maggie Allen
“Hi,” he said. He always had a smile on his face. He looked keen to start the day.
But actually, I felt a bit embarrassed. “I feel like I showed you everything yesterday, Alex. I’m not sure what we’re going to do today.”
“Not at all,” he said. “I could spend weeks here, months and still not learn everything. I regret having only three days.”
He made me feel better. “We spoke to all the Mamas again yesterday. Do you want to talk to some of the youngsters?”
“Of course,” he said.
“Even the little ‘uns?”
“Everyone’s ideas and experience has value. Age doesn’t matter.”
I liked that attitude. But to be quite honest, I didn’t find the ramblings of the kiddies that interesting. But Alex sat patiently taking notes while they gave all the details of their mini-dramas. The only thing I was grateful for was that the horrid child, Sara, wasn’t around.
That took most of the day. Late afternoon, we grabbed some food and took it to the meadows for a picnic. That gave me a good chance to quiz Alex about his life. He didn’t mind, he answered all my questions about LondonT. And believe me, I had a lot of questions. Then I asked about his role as a librarian.
“And you go all over the country, talking to people? Observing them?” It turned out that he hadn’t been overseas yet. “Do you ever get afraid?”
“There are bad areas in the Kingdom United,” he said. “I stay clear of them. I guess it isn’t much different from the times before the DNA revolution.”
“That wasn’t quite what I’d meant. I wasn’t asking about physical harm, I was asking about something different.”
Alex seemed to know what I was thinking. “People are people, good and bad, same as they ever were,” he said.
“You must meet a lot of people,”
“I do,” he said. “It’s overwhelming sometimes,”
“I bet.”
“But I’ve been trained,” he said, “by the Library. I like talking to people and finding out about them. But, sometimes, it’s difficult. I encounter a lot of different ideas, and I don’t always agree with them. It can be quite exhausting. When I’m older, I’ll settle down. In our community, it’s mainly the young ones who go out and gather information. You know: the wanderlust.”
“How did you get involved in the Library? Were you born into it?”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “Not at all. I met someone at the LondonT processing centre and he invited me to visit. After a lot of soul searching I decided not to go back to my tribe. I believe in the freedom of information. I’ve devoted my life to it. I believe that we’ve made a wrong choice by secluding ourselves like this.”
“So you think our way of living is wrong?”
“I want to document everything with respect. I don’t judge,” he said.
There was no denying that his tone was judgemental. “And what about those who don’t want to be documented?”
“We believe that the world has a right to their stories as well. I observe them, as much as I can. Like I did when I stood on the outside of Comb7. I’m so glad that you invited me in, Freya.”
“I’m glad you came here.”
“Freya,” he said. “I’ll be leaving soon. I wanted to invite you to the Library.”
“I’ll be going to LondonT in a few years, I’ll look you up.”
“No, I mean come now.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“I mean it, you know.”
“I don’t think Mama Bathsheba would like that.” I laughed, just imagining all her eyes blinking and winking if I told her that I was leaving with Alex.
“But now you’re thirteen, Freya. She wouldn’t be able to stop you. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it?”
I hadn’t really. Not seriously. Sure, when I was a kid, I was always saying that I was going to leave Comb7 as soon as I reached the Age of Freedom. But, small and annoying as this place was, it was my home.
“You’re not telling me you haven’t thought about it,” Alex said again, looking at me intently.
“I don’t know,” I said, rubbing my arm, like I always do when I’m uneasy. It’s a bad tell. I’ll never make a great poker player “I have questions about our life. You know that.”
“Questions are good,” said Alex. “You must question everything. But you don’t even know what you don’t know. You’ve been raised in a closed community with isolationist tendencies.” He frowned as he said this.
“And you don’t approve?” This conversation was getting heavy.
“It’s not my place to approve, I only document.”
“But you don’t approve?”
“The principals of the Kingdom United are that every parent has the right to educate their child as they choose until the Age of Freedom, though of course many continue educating until majority. At the Age of Majority every individual has the right to choose their own path.”
“Sure,” I said. “At the Age of Majority everyone selects what DNA modifications they’re going to get. Except people like you, Alex. Although not choosing to change is a choice in a way. What’s wrong with that?”
Alex sighed. “The fact that children are indoctrinated into the beliefs of their parents, that’s what’s wrong. Very few people escape their tribe. Virtually everyone chooses the modifications of their parents.”
“I guess they do. So what?”
“Sometimes their parents’ choices are not right for the child.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like me for instance. I was raised dragon,” he said.
I was surprised. Dragon was a highly modified tribe. You needed to change your body a lot to be a dragon, bone mods, body re-sculpturing, extensive skin alterations. I’d heard that they were even trying to find a gene that would allow them to breathe fire. I sometimes saw dragons flying high above Comb7. They were astonishing.
“You wouldn’t believe the supremacy rubbish they taught me. All wrapped up in their Dragon religion,” said Alex. “How is it right that they were allowed to teach me such stuff? It will always be with me. If I’d gone home, what would I have been?”
I resisted the temptation to say: A magnificent flying dragon? “If you don’t like the current situation, what’s the alternative?” I asked.
“It should be like it was before the DNA revolution, the state should give everyone an education.”
“You think that the government should take a child away from her family?”
“No, not at all. Maybe in some cases. It’s lovely here, but just imagine being brought up as a dragon.”
I dunno. It sounded kinda cool. But I nodded sympathetically. “At least you got out,” I said.
“And left my brothers behind.” He was quiet for a moment. “Why is it that nobody thinks about the rights of children? But, Freya, at least you’re at the age when you can do something about it. Just think about it, that’s all I ask”
We were walking through the Hive back to Alex’s room, when Sara came canon-balling down the corridor, nearly knocking us over.
“Hey,” I said, catching her arm. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“Nowhere! Let me go.” She twisted like a snake out of my grasp, before shooting a hateful glance at Alex and running away.
“I’m sorry about her, Alex.”
“No harm done,” he said.
His room was in disarray. The contents of his pack was scattered over the room. Clothes and papers everywhere and smashed glass was ground into the carpet.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. It must have been Sara. She’s a naughty, naughty little girl. Don’t worry, I’ll tell Mama Bathsheba. Sara will get what’s coming to her.”
“No,” he said. “It’s okay. Please don’t tell the Mamas about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want them to think that I’m here causing trouble. They might ask me to leave.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “What’s
all this glass anyway?”
“Man’s stuff,” he said with a blush
I beat a hasty retreat.
I’d promised Alex that I wasn’t going to tell on Sara. But I hadn’t said anything about me sorting her out. “You,” I said, grabbing Sara by the shoulder. “Why did you do that? You’re just a vicious, naughty, little girl. Why did you mess all his stuff up?”
I’d expected defiance, but what I got was tears. “Because he’s taking you away. You’re going to go to LondonT. You’ll never come back. I’ll never see you again.”
I took in a deep breath. “What makes you think that?”
“That’s what Sophie told me. I know you don’t want to be like us and the Mamas. Why do you hate us all?”
“I don’t,” I said, honestly confused by her words. “I love everyone in Comb7. Even you, Sara, and you are a very naughty thing.”
“Really?” Her eyes grew big with hope.
“Really.”
Sara grooved a little victory dance, and I couldn’t help smiling. But we ended up crying in each other’s arms. And I didn’t know what I was going to do.
Alex was leaving tomorrow. I had to decide what I was going to do. Should I go with him? I changed my mind a hundred times that night, tossing and turning. No wonder I slept in late.
When I made my way to Alex’s room, it was empty and all his things were gone.
I raced to Mama Bathsheba’s room. I burst through the door without knocking.
“Where’s Alex?” I demanded.
“He’s been expelled from Comb7.”
“What? Why?”
“Sit down, Freya. You make me nervous looming over me like that. Alex has been expelled because he’s a liar and a thief.”
I gasped with surprise, and it was a moment before I could defend him. “He values truth above all things. And he’d never steal anything.”
“No,” said Mama Bathsheba. And her voice got a bit softer, like she was trying to be kind to me. “Not only was he recording our words, but he was collecting our DNA. Who knows what he planned to do with it.”
“That can’t be true!” DNA was the thing that was uniquely yours. To steal it was a terrible crime.
“It is true. Sara came to me yesterday and told me what she’d done. When she told me that Alex had a lot of glass in his pack, I was suspicious. I went to his room and confronted him. He didn’t deny it. In fact, he tried to lecture me about how all kinds of information should be free. I asked him to leave right away. And I’ve sent warnings to the villages in the South East Collective.”
“He was going to steal our DNA?”
“Yes, and samples of the worm DNA.”
“But that’s our livelihood.”
“Alex believes that all information should be freely available.” Mama Bathsheba shrugged. “It’s his way.”
And instead of being angry, to my horror I started crying great, big, hysterical baby tears. “Why?” I howled. “It’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not fair, Freya. I’m sorry that you had to learn this lesson.”
Quick as lightening, my mood turned angry. “Sorry? I bet you’re glad. And I bet you were laughing when you found out. In fact, I think you knew all along what he was.”
“I didn’t know,” said Mama Bathsheba. “I would have spared you this if I could.”
My mood changed again, quick as lightning. “And I was going to go with him,” I wailed.
“No, Freya, I don’t think you were. You’re smarter than that.”
“Smarter?”
“The smartest of us have the most difficult choices to make. I was very much like you at your age,” Mama Bathsheba said softly, giving me a small blinking smile. “Although I know you don’t want to hear that. I never stopped questioning things.”
“Why did you stop?”
“I never did, Freya. And I don’t think I ever will.”
“But why did he go without saying goodbye to me?”
“That was my fault, Freya. I was just so angry that I insisted on him leaving immediately. I should have let him say goodbye, try to explain things to you.”
Mama Bathsheba admitted she’d made a mistake?
“He asked me to pass on a message. He said you’ll always be welcome in their library.”
“I’ll never go there. Never! They’re just a bunch of liars.”
“Alex thinks differently to us. He sees his lies in the pursuit of a greater truth.”
“Is this what it will be like when I go to LondonT?”
“No. You’ll be older, Freya and better prepared. You may be Age of Freedom, but you’re not quite ready for LondonT.”
“I’m not,” I snivelled. “And what happens if I go to LondonT and decide that I don’t want to be a Mama?”
“Whatever you decide, you’ll always be part of our family, Freya. You won’t live with us, that’s true, but you’ll always be part of us.”
It was too much! I didn’t like all that soppy stuff. I covered my face with my hands. “I don’t like having this choice, Mama.”
“I know it is difficult, but all the Mamas will help you.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
“Anytime, Freya. Now, you run off and do your chores. Put this behind you. They’ll be time enough for you to make your choices.”
“I suppose you’re right, Mama. Thanks.” I felt a bit embarrassed by the way I’d let my emotions get ahead of me. But it was only Mama B. She was used to me. I walked back to my room, thinking hard. I was pretty angry with Alex. What a dirty liar. But he wasn’t all bad. He’d got me thinking about things. I wonder if he even knew that what he’d done was wrong. I don’t think he did. I had a lot of thinking to do.
But first, I had to do my chores. I grabbed my bee hat from the hook and set off for the hives. The worms won’t feed themselves, you know.
Laddie Come Home
Curtis C. Chen
Once a software engineer in Silicon Valley, Curtis C. Chen now writes fiction and runs puzzle games near Portland, Oregon. His debut novel, Waypoint Kangaroo, a science fiction spy thriller, will be published by Thomas Dunne Books in 2016. Curtis is not an aardvark. Visit him online at: http://curtiscchen.com
LAD woke from standby in an unknown location (searching, please wait). The Local Administrator Device’s GPS coordinates had not been updated in more than three hours (elapsed time 03:10:21). Internal battery meter hovered at 20 percent (not charging). LAD forked a self-diagnostic background job and checked the bodyNet event log for errors and warnings. It was LAD’s responsibility to maintain proper functioning of the entire system.
The initial findings were discouraging. LAD’s last known-good cloud sync had been at Soekarno-Hatta International Airport (Java Island, Indonesia) after LAD’s user, Willam Mundine, had arrived from Sydney and his bodyNet had connected to the first accessible WiFi network (SSID starbucks-CGK-962102, unsecured). There had been no wireless coverage after Mundine’s taxicab left the airport (4G/LTE roaming denied, no WiMAX footprint, TDMA handshake failed). Mundine had lost consciousness 00:12:10 after the sync completed, and all his personal electronics, including LAD, had automatically gone to sleep with him, as designed.
Mundine’s bodyNet had awoken now only because battery power was low (estimated remaining runtime 00:09:59), and all the bodytechs needed to save state to non-volatile storage before shutdown. LAD attempted to dump a memory image to Mundine’s bioDrive but received device errors from every triglyceride cluster before timing out.
The self-diagnostic job finished and confirmed what LAD had suspected: the battery had run down because LAD’s hardware housing, a teardrop-shaped graphene pendant attached to a fiber-optic necklace, was not in contact with Mundine’s skin surface. The necklace drew power from the wearer’s body via epidermal interface. LAD was not designed to function without that organic power supply.
“Mr. Mundine,” LAD said. “Can you hear me, Mr. Mundine? Please wake up.”
It was possible that the diagn
ostic had returned a false negative due to corrupted data. LAD triggered the voice command prompt fifteen more times before breaking the loop.
In the absence of direct commands from Mundine, LAD depended on stochastic behavior guidelines to assign and perform tasks. The current situation was not something LAD had been programmed to recognize. LAD needed information to select a course of action.
GPS was still unavailable. The antenna built into LAD’s necklace could transmit and receive on many different radio frequencies, but the only other bodytechs in range—Mundine’s PebbleX wristwatch, MetaboScan belt, and MateMatch ring—supplied no useful data. No other compatible devices responded to outbound pings.
The complete lack of broadband wireless reception suggested that LAD was inside a building. Mundine had installed an offline travel guide before departing Australia, and according to that data source, regular monsoon rains and frequent geological events (current surveys list 130 active volcanoes in Indonesia) led many in this region to use poured concrete for construction. Those locally composited materials often included dielectric insulators which interfered with radio transmissions. Weatherproofed glass windows would also have metallic coatings that deflected any wavelengths shorter than ultraviolet or longer than infrared. And the absence of satellite beacons like GPS implied a corrugated metal roof that scattered incoming signals. Perhaps without realizing it, the builders of this structure had made it a perfect cage for wireless Internet devices like LAD.
After 3,600 milliseconds of fruitless pinging, LAD re-prioritized the voice command UI and began processing input signals from boundary effect pickups in the necklace’s outer coating. It was sometimes possible to determine location characteristics from ambient sounds. The audio analysis software indicated human voices intermingled with music, and the stream included a digital watermark, indicating a television broadcast, but without Internet connectivity, LAD couldn’t look up the station identifier. However, the offline travel guide included Bahasa language translation software, so LAD was able to understand the words being spoken.
