Halfskin Boxed

by Tony Bertauski

  “I know it hurts,” he heard the doctor say. “But the results look good.”

  “I’ve got another generation that will be ready for testing in a couple weeks,” Cali said. “I’d like to inoculate Nix, starting with a spinal tap—”

  “Let’s be patient. I expect…”

  Nix couldn’t understand what he said.

  He pushed his ear against the door.

  “I got to be honest,” Cali said, “I’m little worried. He says his body tingles…”

  The sonar box—

  Heavy.

  His insides stepped off the elevator and dropped to the center of the earth. The box—pressed against his stomach—was the only thing holding Nix on the ground, and when it left his hand, when it tumbled from his fingers, he zoomed like a helium balloon cut loose.

  His stomach fell out.

  The room spun.

  And the buzzies went electric.

  His bones vibrated like over-modulated components, emitting heat waves that elevated his temperature. He was being electrocuted from the inside.

  Black edge—

  Floor—

  Door opening and a deep breath and a hand on his arm—

  A salty warm rush into his throat—

  And the room—

  ______

  He smelled green, like when he cut the grass.

  He was on the ground with trees overhead. Vines strangling the trunks. Sunlight filtering through the leaves.

  A bird called.

  Something jumped in the branches.

  “Cali?” Nix sat up.

  This was weird. This was… he was just in Dr. Merrick’s office and now they were… camping?

  He stood up. He felt a little numb, but it wasn’t the bad kind. It wasn’t anything like a buzzy. It was just… dull. Couldn’t really feel stuff, could hardly smell it. There was a path that wandered between the trees. It was narrow and weedy. Nix didn’t feel scared or alone. Not like he should. He felt good. Felt solid. No buzzies.

  He just wanted to know where his sister had gone.

  So he took the path. He followed it to the end. He heard something roaring. It sounded like a big truck. He saw an opening and a blue sky. The roar was deafening. He felt it in his chest, vibrating all over him. He slowed and carefully stepped to the edge of a cliff. He looked down hundreds of feet to see…

  The waterfall in the picture.

  The lagoon was born when Nix was eight.

  All he had to do was close his eyes.

  27

  “Momma?”

  Avery’s voice was tiny. So far away.

  Cali’s eyes hurt. She’d been squeezing them closed for… how long?

  She didn’t hear Avery return.

  Didn’t hear the machines beeping.

  Only heard the words shooting into her mind. Over and over. Over and—

  “Momma?” Avery tapped the back of Cali’s hand.

  She opened her eyes.

  It was so bright.

  Her daughter was kneeling on the other side of the bed, leaning on the railing. She could see all of Avery’s silver braces that lined her teeth. She was smiling. And pointing down at the bed. Something smacked.

  Nix’s lips were moving.

  Cali leaped to her feet. She stopped from grabbing his cheeks. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. They ran up and down her sides and over the bed railing. She leaned over and felt his rotten breath on her cheek. It felt wonderful.

  “Nix,” she whispered.

  His eyelids batted back the light, rapidly fluttering. His blue eyes peered through the slits. It took a few moments to process the big face hovering over him. His lips cracked when he smiled.

  “Hey.” He squeezed weakly.

  Cali squeezed back. “How are you?” she asked.

  “Better than I look.”

  Cali nodded. She knew what he meant. “Good, good.”

  [We don’t have much time,] she thought to him.

  He heard it. His new breeds picked up her thoughts like a radio wave, transmitting them like spoken words. Still, he was surprised. His eyes bulged slightly. It took a moment to comprehend, to understand what the hell just happened.

  She waited patiently. Let him calm down, form his own thoughts.

  Cali sat down and gave him space. He smacked his lips, calling for water. Cali handed him the cup and stuck the straw between his lips. He only took a drag off it. His head was too exhausted to stay up and drink more.

  He was going to need all his strength.

  “Where’s Avery?” The words scratched his throat.

  Cali wiped her cheeks and pointed to the other side of the bed. Nix turned his head slowly. He lifted his hand for her to take. Avery’s hand looked so small in his.

  “Does it hurt?” the little girl asked.

  “You look so pretty.”

  Avery bowed her head, smiling and giggling. Her bashfulness evaporated in seconds and she jumped up to show Uncle Nix her new shoes, demonstrating them with some swift dance moves.

  “I missed you,” Nix said.

  “Then don’t sleep so much,” Avery sang.

  He watched her dance some more and tell the story about the flowers she found in the lobby and used them to decorate his bed, that he would’ve loved them, but her mom made her clean them up.

  Nix listened patiently. A good uncle.

  [You’re 49.9%,] she thought.

  He turned back to her. He worked his lips, closed his eyes and focused.

  [I know.]

  While Avery began telling another story—this one about a prince that went to save his sister from a red dragon—Cali sent her escape plans.

  He closed his eyes, nodding.

  28

  Dr. Erickson had been the chief physician of bionanotechnology at Northwestern Memorial Hospital since the wing had been dedicated to the science of biomite healing.

  That was seven years ago.

  At the time of its dedication, he was excited about the future of humanity. He’d seen too many things go wrong. As a doctor, good came with bad. But medicine was so much more complicated than it was in the old days. Now there were lawsuits and unrealistic expectations and insurance… those were not the reasons he chose medicine as his profession. He wanted to help people, wanted to give them a second chance. But they needed to help themselves.

  Too often, that was not the case.

  When bionanotechnology was introduced, he was skeptical. Machines that imitate human cells? That’s science fiction, not reality.

  But all that changed.

  All that changed when he witnessed the simplicity that occurred at the microscopic level, that these miniscule artificial cells were programmed like stem cells to transform into anything inside the human body. He’d witnessed miracles.

  He was not a religious man, but there was no other word for it.

  Miracles.

  But humans have a way of corrupting everything meant to be good and proper. In the few short years that Dr. Erickson oversaw the development and implementation of biomites to save faulty organs, to restore sight, and repair damaged bodies, he became embroiled in the politics that went along with it.

  He opened his office door and was reminded, bluntly, of such corruption.

  “Why are you in here?” Dr. Erickson said.

  Marcus Anderson stood in front of a large saltwater fish tank. He bent over and smudged the glass with his finger, pointing at the anemone.

  “Amazing how a clownfish survives, Dr. Erickson. It hides in the poisonous tentacles, resistant to the sting itself.”

  “Evolution is amazing.”

  Marcus turned. “And God’s grace.”

  Dr. Erickson dropped his clipboard on his cluttered desk and sat down. The office was dimly lit, chiefly from the tank’s light. He kept his office that way intentionally. It was a place of respite, a secret room from the hectic matters only a few short steps outside of it. It was remarkable how it could be disrupted by a diminutive m
an such as the one still fouling the tank’s glass.

  “Can I help you, Mr. Anderson?”

  The small man straightened up as best he could—the bump between his shoulders vaguely noticeable—and came over to the desk. He didn’t bother sitting. He fished a Jolly Rancher from a dish and unwrapped it.

  “I came to inform you, Dr. Erickson, that I will be overseeing a biomites shutdown this afternoon.”

  “I hardly see how that involves me.”

  “It will be conducted on this wing, in a room at the end of the hall.”

  “That is against hospital policy.”

  “You’ll have to make an exception. The subject is incapable of transport. Unless you can reduce his biomite population, it will be conducted on these premises.”

  Marcus sucked on the green block of candy, rattling it over his teeth from one cheek to the other.

  “We cannot oblige, Mr. Anderson. There is a Hippocratic Oath that we take seriously here at Northwestern Memorial, and I intend to uphold it. I will file an appeal to suspend Nixon Richards’ shutdown until he is able to walk out on his own.”

  “And die somewhere else?”

  Dr. Erickson rapped his fingers on the desktop. “I don’t approve of shutdowns anywhere, Mr. Anderson.”

  “And neither do I.”

  Dr. Erickson’s expression was blank.

  “Doctor, the fact is, you have no choice in the matter. There is nowhere to request a stay of shutdown, no one to hear your plea. The Halfskin Laws are executed whether you and I approve of them or not. When any person reaches 50% biomites, he or she is shut down. I am sorry for that, I am. But the world has been warned; they make their choices. They have to take responsibility for their actions. If they don’t like the consequences, they shouldn’t seed themselves.”

  “What about those that need them to survive? Accident victims, genetic disorders, you name it. Life happens to them and they receive biomites to survive only to be told there’s a law that forbids it?”

  Marcus leaned over the trash can and spit the candy out. It banged the bottom.

  “We have to have order, Doctor.”

  “You should reconsider your policy.”

  Marcus stretched his chin and straightened his tie. “Perhaps you should consider your own policies.”

  “And what policies would those be? That I want health and well-being for the people that come here?”

  “You’re turning people into machines.”

  “We’re using technology. Prescription glasses, hearing aids, medicines… no difference.”

  Marcus nodded. “Does your computer have a right to life, Doctor?”

  “My computer?”

  Marcus nodded at the monitor. “Shouldn’t you consider its feelings before you unplug it one of these days for an upgrade?”

  “A computer was never human, Mr. Anderson. It has always been a machine.”

  “The past doesn’t define who we are. It is only now. We were not meant to live forever, Doctor. There are limits to our survival. Perhaps death should not be held in contempt. Without it, where would we be?”

  Dr. Erickson leaned back, sighing. His hope in the human race continued to wither. Especially when speaking to a man like this. A man with power.

  “We’ll be conducting a shutdown this afternoon, Doctor. We prefer to keep it quiet. You may attend, if you like.”

  Marcus filled a paper cup with water, the water jug chugging with air. He crushed the cup and dropped it into the trash.

  “Neither of us can stop it,” he said. “Whether we want to or not.”

  Dr. Erickson decided the man’s smile indicated he not only didn’t want to stop it, he looked forward to it.

  He felt no less deflated when Marcus left the office. Just more hopeless.

  29

  Cali folded the last of Avery’s shirts and squeezed it into her bag.

  Her daughter was curled up on the chair. They needed to get out of the hospital for a lot of reasons. And they would. In three days, they would be somewhere else where there was fresh air and freedom.

  That was the plan.

  She packed her belongings. Three days was longer than she wanted to wait. She was prepared to dash now, that morning, but Nix wasn’t ready. He could barely walk.

  He was asleep. And not in the lagoon. She made damn sure he wasn’t expending energy on his inner world. They needed every bit to restore his health. The new breeds couldn’t conduct a secret siege on his body, taking the place of the older biomites that compromised nearly 49% of his body. She was certain the new breeds could flush the old ones out, but since the hospital readers couldn’t see the new breeds, they would think his biomite population was declining.

  And that would lead to suspicion. That would not help.

  Everything needed to look normal. Nothing going on here. Everything was the same. Any close examination could bring her best-laid plans to a halt. There was no hope if that happened, so it was business as usual.

  Nix slept.

  Cali monitored him.

  Yes, she read him like a computer. Even she was surprised by the recent developments. Not only could she telecommunicate with Nix, but she was using them to wirelessly communicate with every wireless device in the vicinity. She was a wireless router that heard everything around her.

  Phone calls.

  Emails.

  Network servers.

  I’m a computer.

  It was all data streaming through the atmosphere, vibrating against her new breeds that downloaded and interpreted it all into words and sounds. But it was too much to understand. It was white noise, the chatter of a thousand voices, at first. That’s what she’d been hearing for the past few days and had thought it might be a malfunction. The new breeds were breaking down, they were learning. Evolving.

  She thought-commanded the new breeds to tune it all out. Perhaps, at some point, she could filter out what she wanted to hear. For now, she focused on her little brother, listening to his new breeds report his health and stats.

  Bones mended.

  Organs stable.

  No fever. Blood vessels healed.

  He could walk, but she needed more than that. It was going to take a lot to get out undetected. They needed time for him to heal. Stay too long, he goes halfskin. Leave too soon, there’s biomite failure.

  Sleep. Heal, my brother. Heal quickly.

  In the meantime, Cali discovered that she could access her computer through thought-commands. The new breeds made a connection through her secure portal. If she closed her eyes, she could see the interface as if it was a monitor in her mind. She arranged a hotel reservation at the Red Roof Inn. It was close to the hospital—too close—but Nix would need to recover. She arranged Hertz to deliver a car to the parking garage and drop off the keys to an alias.

  After those arrangements were complete, she explored the hospital’s network. The new breeds slipped easily past passwords, speaking the language of computers. She spied through a multitude of cameras like a thousand eyes inside her head. She knew who was on duty, where they were, what operations were scheduled and even what the cafeteria was serving.

  None of that did much good. Not now.

  She decided to stretch out. She jumped into the Internet and found Marcus Anderson’s home computer. He’d upgraded since she hacked his personal information a week ago, but she flew past it like a ghost. She opened his email, searched his voicemails, office memos, etc. She decided to download everything to her cloud storage.

  He’s the real threat.

  That man wouldn’t stop. She and Nix could leave the hospital and very few people would care. They might even elude M0ther. But this man, he would dog them to the end of the world just so he could watch them die.

  He needed to be addressed. Permanently.

  The door swung open.

  Cali jumped back from the bed. She blinked a few times, bringing her vision back online. The images inside her head faded slowly. There were two men stepping insid
e. Twins, at first.

  But now there was one.

  She focused on Marcus Anderson.

  He was smiling.

  30

  Marcus left the doctor’s office, cursing beneath his breath He never uttered such language, never made it a word, but he let the cursed thoughts settle, melting like dirty mints.

  Because he hated this place.

  He hated the smell of hospitals. The peculiar scent clung to his sinuses, coated the back of his throat, and swabbed his nostrils. It would take days to purge it. Even candy couldn’t mask its odor.

  He stopped outside Dr. Erickson’s office and placed a few calls. He had approval to conduct the shutdown in the hospital. There wasn’t an option, but it was nice to have others in the administration on board. The sooner he was out of Chicago, the better.

  He hit the door harder than he anticipated, his thoughts elsewhere. Cali was caught by surprise, kneeling next to her brother’s bed, hands folded against her forehead.

  She’s praying.

  It warmed his heart to see this godless scientist succumbing to prayer when times were dark and hopeless. All scientists came to the Lord when times became desperate. And if their heart was open, if they were prepared to admit their sinful ways, He might accept them into the gates of heaven. That was how good the Father was. He held no grudges, only love.

  She stood.

  “No, no. Don’t let me interrupt. Please.” He gestured to the bedside. “Continue.”

  “What do you want?”

  Marcus noticed the bag. None of her stuff was scattered around the room. “Going somewhere?”

  “My brother is healing. He’ll be transferred soon. I want to follow him… back to wherever you’re taking him.”

  “I see.”

  Marcus unbuttoned his coat, reached inside and let his hand rest for a moment. The woman looked so vulnerable, so afraid. She knew something was coming. He wasn’t there to pray, though.

  “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

  He walked softly to the bed, pulling his hand out of his jacket to reveal the biomite reader. He placed it gently on Nix’s exposed throat. A number appeared a moment later. Marcus knew what it would read. He was not disappointed.