Stepping Stones

by Steve Gannon

  “You look.”

  “Fine. I will,” said Cameron, beginning to scroll through the cyborgs displayed in the table’s translucent surface.

  As Cameron perused the sex-surrogate selections, Jake once more glanced around the room. Across the crowded dance floor he noticed a female cyborg ascending a ladder that accessed a small balcony above the bar. Once there she began swaying to the background music, her nude body seductively shrouded in a holographic mist that rose and fell in colorful wisps, first concealing, then revealing—a flash of leg, the arch of her back, the smoothness of her breasts. Except for the slender steel control collar encircling her neck and the absolute, unfaltering perfection of her movements, Jake realized with a start that he might have mistaken her for human. Tearing away his eyes, he concentrated on his drink.

  “Hey, check out this one!” said Cameron, tapping the tabletop screen. “The Terry Series. Red hair, blue eyes, and legs that won’t quit.”

  “No redheads.”

  “Oh, right, I forgot. Tiffany has forever ruined you for redheads, you poor bastard. Okay, you pick.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Shaking his head sadly, Cameron continued his search.

  Ignoring his friend, Jake stared into the watery remnants of his drink, dejectedly mulling over the turn of events that had derailed his chance to leave Earth—at least for the moment. In that regard, he knew Cameron was right. He would get another chance. It might take years, but sooner or later the Company would open up another planet, and with Jake’s qualifications—degrees in both hydroponics and animal husbandry, a more than passing knowledge of mining, and the fact that he had already completed the Company’s fourteen-month colonization training—he knew he stood an excellent shot of being selected again the next time around, assuming he could find a willing partner.

  So why am I so depressed? Jake wondered. Is it losing Cam and Megan? Or is it that Tiffany had someone in the wings all along, and I was the last to know? Or is it that she terminated her pregnancy without even telling me?

  “Here we go,” said Cameron, again tapping the screen. “The Lara Series. Just released. Tall, beautiful, and not one red hair anywhere on their gorgeous nubile bodies.”

  “Sorry, Cam,” said Jake, shaking his head as he saw his friend pushing a button to summon a hostess. “I appreciate the offer. I really do. I know you’re trying to help, but I’m going home and sleep it off.”

  “’Scuse me a sec,” said Cameron, spotting a surrogate hostess approaching. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  Ignoring Jake’s protests, Cameron rose and conferred with the surrogate hostess, then returned. “Trust me on this one, pal,” he said. “Just follow the hostess over there. The fee is already paid, and this is exactly what you need. And Jake? Try to loosen up a little. It’s only a cyborg.”

  She couldn’t allow herself to be captured, for to do so would allow the information she carried to fall into enemy hands. She also knew she couldn’t outrun them. There was only one hope for escape—to conceal herself and wait for help. Using the precious seconds earned by the deaths of her offspring, she coiled her fields and entered a nearby bubble of space-time. Somehow, she had to survive.

  With a dazzling burst of light, she materialized among the stars. The Dark Ones would not be far behind. In her present form she would stand out like a beacon. Fighting panic, she searched for a place to hide.

  A myriad of galaxies filled the four-dimensional bubble she had chosen, each galaxy containing billions of stars. In the nearest of these stellar swirls she began her search. Her race had long known that rudimentary life existed in these lower dimensions—usually primitive molecular assemblies of nuclear ash from nova stars. Her plan was to cloak herself in one of these organic forms. A degrading prospect, but preferable to capture and death.

  Now it was her only hope.

  Jake stood in the hallway, watching as the surrogate hostess departed. He hesitated, trying to decide what to do next. A card slot and a single raised panel broke the otherwise featureless surface of the door before him. He’d originally had no intention of going through, but curiosity was beginning to get the better of him. Besides, Cameron had already paid the fee, which was nonrefundable. Why not at least check things out?

  Although suspecting he was making a mistake, Jake withdrew his wallet, inserted his ID card into the slot, and pushed the panel. The door swung smoothly inward. Again, he hesitated. Then, with a shrug, he entered. The door slid shut silently behind him, disappearing into the background.

  Jake surveyed his surroundings, grudgingly admitting that the holographic illusion in which he found himself looked authentic down to the last detail, giving the impression that he had stepped from the plastic and steel of the twenty-second century into some long-extinct tropical paradise. Overhead the sky was gradually darkening to the deep purple of dusk; in the west a crescent moon hung low on the horizon.

  Jake shook his head in amazement. Everything seemed so real—a soft touch of wind on his face, the musky smells of the rain forest, the clean white beach beneath his feet. Resisting the impulse to take off his shoes, he moved to a stand of palms bordering a small lagoon nearby. Upon arriving, he sensed movement to his right. He turned, peering into the glade.

  As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, Jake could make out the outline of an elevated platform, supported between two towering mangroves. The structure appeared to have grown from the very forest itself—woven vines and roots composing its legs and frame, the latter supporting a bed of dried ferns and moss. And standing beside it was the most hauntingly beautiful woman Jake had ever encountered.

  Eyes lowered, long auburn hair framing her lovely face and spilling over her bare shoulders, she made her way toward him. Her torso was lean and trim, her breasts high and full. As she neared, Jake realized with a tinge of surprise that she was nearly as tall as he.

  A moment later she stood before him. She wore a small pair of gold earrings and a stainless-steel cyborg collar around her neck, nothing else. Jake found himself at loss for words. This wasn’t what he had expected. She seemed almost . . . human. There was still the control collar to remind him she wasn’t, of course. That, and something absent in her pale blue eyes—eyes that dilated slightly as she spoke. “Client: Sheridan, Jake. Service billing prepaid by Gilbert, Cameron E., credit card number 17634022714413220812.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Jake grumbled, belatedly realizing that his sarcasm was undoubtedly wasted on a cyborg.

  “What is your desire, and how may I assist you in fulfilling it?” the cyborg asked, her voice soothing and melodic.

  “My desire? Actually, I’m not even sure what I’m doing here,” Jake replied, not accustomed to speaking with a female whose eyes were nearly on a level with his—especially one showing as much bare skin as this one, even if she were a cyborg. “My buddy thinks . . .” Jake stopped, suddenly feeling foolish to be explaining himself. “What’s your name?”

  “Lara Series number eight-five-one, or simply Lara if you wish,” the cyborg responded. “Do you have a particular fantasy in mind?” When Jake didn’t reply, she continued. “Are these surroundings to your liking? I can change them if you want. It’s possible to simulate a desert oasis, a luxury penthouse, a mountain cabin with a warm cozy fire—anything you want.”

  Jake ignored her offer. He’d had a lot to drink, but he wasn’t that drunk. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked, trying not to stare.

  “Cold? Oh, I understand. You would like me in something less revealing.” Lara touched her collar. An instant later a peach-colored negligee with high, V-shaped cuts up each side materialized on her body. The silky fabric clung to her seductively, doing little to conceal her figure. “Better?” she asked with a playful spin that caused the holographic garment to flare around her thighs.

  Surprised to find himself attracted, Jake remained silent. He knew that the cyborg was no more real than the other surroundings in the holochamber, and that he wo
uld probably regret staying longer. Still, he made no move to leave.

  “I sense your discomfort,” said Lara. “It’s a common reaction of humans unaccustomed to the presence of cyborgs. Perhaps you would feel more at ease if you knew something about me.”

  Again, Jake said nothing.

  “Like you, I am composed of flesh and blood,” she continued. “My body is fully operational; I eat, sleep, eliminate waste, and perform all the physiologic functions. Also like you, I am capable of experiencing both pleasure and pain. The main difference between us is that certain cognitive centers in my brain have been replaced with photonic circuitry—neural structures that are under the direct control of a central processor in this building. In addition, where you have a spleen, I have a self-contained energy source sufficient to power my bioelectric components for the remainder of my life. There are other changes, but they are insignificant.”

  Already aware of the differences between humans and cyborgs, Jake had listened to her with growing impatience, but toward the end something caught his attention. “What do you mean, for the rest of your life? You can die?” he asked.

  “Of course. My body ages like yours, although at a considerably slower rate.”

  “How much slower?”

  “I was cloned and brought to full physical maturity over a period of eighteen months. I am now three years old. Barring accident, I will remain physically unchanged for the next one hundred and ninety-seven years, after which my body will rapidly deteriorate.”

  “And then?”

  “My photonic brain, which has a potentially indefinite lifespan, will be removed. If deemed appropriate, I will be given another body. If not, I will be deactivated.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  “No. Why should it?”

  Surprised, Jake thought a moment, then laughed aloud, struck by the ludicrous situation in which he found himself. Here he was in a fantastic albeit illusory paradise with a willing, whiplash-gorgeous although equally illusory partner, and somehow he had managed to turn the conversation to thoughts of mortality.

  Maybe Cam is right, he thought. Maybe I do need to loosen up. At any rate, I can’t leave yet. If I return to the bar this early, I’ll never hear the end of it from Cam. “Okay, Lara, or whatever your name is,” he said. “Are you programmed to give a massage?”

  “Anything you desire.”

  “Fine. That’s what I want. And that’s all I want. Just a massage.”

  Though still plagued by the suspicion he was making a mistake, Jake followed the cyborg to the arboreal bed, stripped to his shorts, and lay facedown on the soft, mossy surface. Despite his uneasiness, he felt his body quickly relaxing as her strong fingers, slippery with fragrant oil from a vial she withdrew from beneath the bed, began kneading the muscles of his shoulders and neck. Next her hands traveled his back and legs, maintaining a deep, steady rhythm. Jake closed his eyes, feeling himself drifting into a comfortable, if slightly inebriated, sleep.

  “Turn over,” Lara commanded twenty minutes later. “I’ll do your hands and arms next.”

  Jake rolled onto his back. Lara knelt beside him on the bed, her long legs tucked neatly beneath her. Taking his left hand, she began working his fingers and knuckles, the web of his thumb, and the cords of his forearm.

  A warm breeze drifted in, redolent with the sweetness of tropical blooms and the lush smells of the jungle. Jake looked up, noticing that the cyborg’s auburn hair seemed to gleam as it fanned over her shoulders onto the fullness of her breasts.

  “Does this feel good?” Lara asked without glancing up.

  “Ummm,” Jake murmured. Then, easing up on one elbow, “Listen, I’m curious about something you said earlier.”

  “Yes?”

  “That bit about feeling pleasure and pain. When you make love, do you experience, uh . . .”

  “Orgasm? Of course. As I said, I’m fully functional. Here, let me demonstrate.” Before Jake could object, Lara swung a long, perfectly proportioned leg over his hips and straddled him.

  “No, wait—”

  “It’s all right,” said Lara, gently pushing Jake’s shoulders back onto the bed. “It’s not necessary for you to respond if you don’t want to. I can do it all.” Then taking his face in her hands, she kissed him. Jake could feel her breasts trailing lightly across his chest, her nipples hard and erect, and whatever he had been about to say was suddenly forgotten.

  Slowly Lara began moving her hips in small circles, the warmth between her legs tantalizing, first pressing into him, then releasing. Taking her lips from his, she arched her back, exposing the long white curve of her neck and the thrust of her breasts. Gradually her flimsy nightgown turned from silky peach to fiery red, then became diaphanous, insubstantial, and finally disappeared altogether.

  Still gently rocking, Lara lowered her head. Slippery from the massage, her hands explored Jake’s shoulders, his arms, his chest. Her breath coming in increasingly ragged gasps, she intensified her tempo. And as she did, Jake felt himself responding. Reaching out, he ran his palms over the smoothness of her breasts. Gasping with pleasure at his touch, Lara closed her eyes. A sheen of perspiration glistened on her shoulders. A bead of moisture trickled down her chest, tracing a wet rivulet down her flawless skin. Abruptly, Jake felt her stiffen in a series of prolonged, delicious shudders, and a low sweet moan escaped her lips.

  Running his fingers through her hair, Jake marveled at its softness. Again Lara brought her mouth to his, her lips softly insistent. He sensed his desire swelling, whatever reservations he’d had earlier dissipating like smoke in a windstorm. Lara shifted slightly. Still holding his lips with hers, she reached between her legs and gently guided him inside.

  Jake closed his eyes. Waves of pleasure began building within, one upon another. There was no turning back, nor did he want to. Aware only of Lara, he abandoned himself to the ecstasy of her touch.

  Beginning her search, she extended the tendrils of her consciousness into the nearest galaxy, randomly selecting a tiny star on the far reaches of one of the swirling arms. She chose well. The third planet circling the sun there teemed with life.

  She had mere seconds before the Dark Ones arrived. She needed to find a suitable organism in which to hide.

  An instant later she made her choice.

  Jake’s passion crested and flooded and burst inside her. Lost in the moment, he circled Lara with his arms. Inexplicably, instead of returning his embrace as she was surely programmed to do, she began struggling, surprising him with her strength.

  Puzzled, Jake gazed into her eyes, recoiling from what he saw. Pain suddenly gripped him in a blinding fist of agony. A scream on his lips, Jake Sheridan descended a long dark tunnel into unconsciousness.

  * * *

  Darkness. And then . . . light!

  She tasted her new world, astonished at the richness of sensation she was able to perceive. Although nearly overcome by its complexity, of one thing she was certain: A weapon of some kind was being thrust into her. She was being attacked!

  Instinctively, she pushed with her mind. Hard. Her assailant screamed. She pushed again. With a shudder, her assailant fell silent.

  Fighting to control her alarm, she inspected the organism that had been attacking her. How had it known? she wondered. Sensing it still lived, she decided to question it later. First she needed to examine the primitive data banks embedded in her new form.

  Seconds passed as she assimilated the language, customs, and behavioral information contained in her body’s rudimentary memory. When she had completed her inventory, she knew she had made a grave mistake.

  Two mistakes, actually.

  First, the beings of this world—humans, they called themselves—considered the form she had taken to be no more than a bionic machine, property to do with as they chose. Worse, she couldn’t risk changing to another form. By now the Dark Ones had surely broached this dimension and would detect her if she did, even if the switch to a new body took only
an instant.

  Second, and more immediate—the cries of the organism she had subdued were certain to bring others. Lara glanced at the unconscious human, unsure of how to proceed. Before she could decide, a door slid open behind her. Rising from the bed, she watched as two additional humans entered. Quickly she touched their minds, questioning them without their knowledge—surprised that even creatures as primitive as they could exist without mind-to-mind contact.

  The cyborg technician, as she now knew him to be, moved to the unconscious figure on the bed. The other hurried to a hidden alcove and threw a switch, turning off the room’s holographic projectors. The illusion created by the machines abruptly vanished. Around them the tropical paradise reverted to a large rectangular room—translucent plastic walls, a simple bed, air-conditioning ducts traversing the ceiling, speakers and holo projectors mounted high in all four corners. A moment later a bank of overhead lights came on, flooding the chamber with harsh white illumination.

  The technician left the man on the bed and rejoined the other human. “What happened?” he demanded, staring at Lara.

  She had to say something. “The organism attacked me and then lost consciousness,” she replied, startled by the sound of her own voice.

  “Not verbally!” the second human ordered, pointing to an opaque panel on the far wall. “Put it up on the screen.”

  As she searched her host memory for an appropriate response, Lara realized that the technician was regarding her a bit too closely. “Organism?” the man said. “Is that what you called him?”

  When Lara didn’t reply, the technician spoke to a concealed audio pickup in the ceiling. “Hal, this is Collins. Run a diagnostic on eight-five-one. We may have a malfunction. I’ll help deactivate her from here.”

  Lara took a step backward.

  “Hold still,” the technician ordered.

  Ignoring him, Lara continued to retreat. Suddenly she felt a tingling in the metal collar around her neck, along with the presence of a primitive electronic mind accessing her host memory. They were trying to turn off her body. She could not allow that. Grasping her collar, she shifted a layer of atoms in the slim metal casing. A section of the collar dissolved in her fingers. With a clatter, the glowing photonic circuits enclosed within spilled like jewels onto the floor.