by Robin Roseau
“I understand.”
“Rejuvenation is one of the biggest topics,” she said. “It’s not the only one, of course. Economic concerns will be dominant, and political even more so.”
“Political?”
“They are fresh members of the Empire,” she said. “They may fear what is to come.”
“Why would they fear us?”
“Change can be frightening,” she replied. “They are a very trusting people, but they know that not all people can be trusted. They trust Cecilia Grace, their new governor, and with good cause, too. Oh, you’re going to love Cecilia. She’s amazing, truly amazing. But they must trust you as well.”
“I’m not sure I understand. What has this to do with my face?”
“With this face,” she said, gesturing to the image rotating slowly, “you will at times be called beautiful. They know about rejuvenation, and they may wonder.”
“I see.” I didn’t really, not yet.
She spoke in English for several moments. A second face appeared, and then as Aunt Anna spoke, some of the changes she’d talked about took place. The rotation stopped with both faces oriented towards Aunt Anna and me.
“This is what you think I should do,” I said, indicating the second face, the far more perfect face.
“You asked about your job. We’ve talked about how the people will be curious but perhaps also nervous.” She gestured. “Imagine for a moment I am Talmonese. We’ll play a game. You are wearing this face.” She indicated my normal face, the one I had worn most of my life. She smiled. “You are very beautiful, Maddalyn.”
“I am?”
“Yes. I have heard about something called...” She hesitated, then spoke the word haltingly and in English, “Rejuvenation.” Then she reached out, not quite touching me. “Is this why you are so beautiful? I have heard your doctors can do anything.” Then her voice changed. “Remember, you’re wearing your natural face now.”
I nodded, understanding. “You’re right,” I said. “The doctors can do so much. But this is my natural face.”
“Governor Grace says that she’s a hundred years old, but she looks younger than you do. How old are you?”
“I am as old as I look,” I said. “Forty-four.”
Aunt Anna frowned and shook her head, then used her normal voice. “Maddalyn, you just told me that you are seventy-eight.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You told me your age in Frantzland years. This could be the most difficult transition for you. You have spent your life thinking in terms of years half as long as anywhere else. Do you know your age in terms I might understand?”
I’d had to calculate my age in Tarriton years, so I nodded. “I am as old as I look,” I said. “I am twenty-four years, as you could years on Tarriton.”
“Okay,” she said. “Good, although that will lead to more confusion. Almost none of us worry about translating to local years for our ages. Most of the settled planets circle G-type main sequence stars with similar habitable ranges to Sol.”
“The difference between years is relatively small.”
“Frantzland is definitely an outlier,” she replied. “Yes. Which means?”
I thought to what I said. “Most people aren’t going to care about how the years are measured. They’re going to assume I mean a local year.”
“Yes.”
I nodded. “I understand, Aunt Anna.”
“Good. Now, let us try this face.”
She gestured, and I studied the woman I could be for a moment. And then she said, “I have heard the doctors can do anything to us during rejuvenation.”
I thought about my answer. And then I jumped ahead to a conclusion. “I want something to show them, but not something drastic. I want them to know the real me. Maybe later, the next time, I should change something more obvious than my hands, so the people who already know me can see.”
“You see? A good decision, and one you made yourself. You asked how it would matter to your job, and you offer a good reason to keep your natural appearance.” She said something in English, and my alternate face disappeared. “Now, you will be living under the sun.”
A portion of me cringed, but then I nodded.
“And so we will improve your body to prevent the ravages the sun can cause. And we will boost your immune system.” She talked for a few minutes, discussing invisible changes. I thought about everything she said and agreed. But then she said, “Do you wish to tan?”
“I do not understand.”
“When exposed to UV rays, production of melanin increases, resulting in a browned tone.” I stared at her, not understanding what she was saying. Aunt Anna looked at my expression and smiled. “In some cultures, a tanned skin is a sign of good health. In others, pale skin is a sign of affluence, a life that is spent away from hard labor under the sun.”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“We can adjust your body’s reaction to UV rays.”
“I thought we already discussed that.”
“We discussed the negative reactions, such as skin cancer. Tanning is neither negative nor positive. It just is.”
“They can make me immune to this effect.”
“Yes. Or increase the effects.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You will be living with people who spend much of their time under their local sun.”
“And they’ll all be this strange color.”
“It isn’t at all strange. It is quite natural and exceedingly common on most other planets. Do you know what you wish?”
“I suppose I should fit in,” I said. But I was uncomfortable with my answer.
“That is one answer,” Aunt Anna replied. “Maddalyn, when you look in a mirror, what do you want?”
“Shouldn’t I fit in?”
“Do you think you need to look like everyone else to fit in? Do you believe when you speak, and they hear your accent, they will forget you come from another world? You will fit in or not fit in on your own merits, not on whether you tan from the sun.”
“I think I want my familiar face,” I said. “Is that a good answer?”
“That is a good answer,” she said. “Did you wish to discuss anything else?”
“No.” I gestured. “This is what I want. Is this all right, Aunt Anna?”
“This is perfect, Maddalyn,” she replied. “Thank you for being flexible.” Then she turned to the technician and spoke at length.
* * * *
Waking from rejuvenation was becoming a familiar feeling to me. I lay still for a while, staring at the ceiling, before I lifted my hand to my face.
I smiled. I was back. Tears formed in my eyes.
Berdine had done more to me than made me a laughingstock. She had taken away my trust and innocence. But now, looking back, I think Aunt Anna recognized this, and she knew the right therapy for me, even if I didn’t even recognize a need for therapy. Of course, that’s not what I thought about.
I did think about what Berdine had taken from me, things I didn’t think Aunt Anna could cure. But I felt my face, my familiar face. I lowered my hand to my chest, finding my breasts were back to their normal size. Then I lifted my hand again and just stared at it.
I’d spent the first portion of my life with pudgy hands. I now had hands that were slender and delicate, and I thought they were beautiful.
And then there was a female face looking down at me, speaking English. I had learned a few words. “Water?”
“Ja.” Then I thought about it. “Yes. Please.”
It took perhaps a half hour to move me from recovery to a room. There were two beds, but I would have the room to myself. I was sleepy and spent much of the day sleeping. It wasn’t for another day before I fully woke when Aunt Anna came to visit.
I smiled up at her. “Thank you, Aunt Anna.”
“You are very welcome, Maddalyn,” she said. She caressed my cheek. “How are you doing?”
“Sleepy,
but happy.”
“Good.”
She didn’t stay long, but before she left, I said, “Did you change your mind about an implant?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Shouldn’t I be able to talk to it?”
“Oh. It is inactive until you have been trained. It can be quite overwhelming at first. They will begin teaching you in a day or two, once you are physically steady.”
“In English?”
“Ah. No. Herr Parsons will help you, and your implant speaks German.”
“It does?”
“And English, of course,” she added. “And it has a dictionary for Talmonese, but only from English. We’ll talk about that when you are through recovery.”
She stayed a little longer and then left. I was asleep shortly after.
* * * *
“Guten Morgen, Frau Herschel.”
“Guten Morgen, Herr Parsons,” I replied, looking up.
“I am to take you to activate your implant,” he said, continuing in German. He patted the wheelchair he was pushing, then set the locks and moved to my side. Herr Parsons steadied me as I made my way to the chair, settling into place then looking up at him.
“Thank you.”
I managed to avoid laughing as he bustled about me, tucking a blanket here and there. “This place is always too cold,” he said. Then he handed my tablet to me. “You’ll need this.”
“Thank you for taking care of me, Herr Parsons.”
“You know, if I am going to push you around, perhaps you could call me Devon.” He used the du form of you, which was quite informal, rather than the far more proper Sie.
I thought about it then nodded. “Certainly, Devon. I am Maddalyn.”
“Maddalyn,” he repeated. “Well. Shall we go?”
Devon stepped behind me, turned the chair, and wheeled me from my room.
“Were you born on Frantzland, too?” I asked him.
“No,” he said. “I was to be placed there.”
“For my Aunt Anna?”
“No, actually. I was born here. Your aunt stole me, in a way. I was working for a company that wished to open businesses on Frantzland. There were six of us taking an immersive course in German and in Frantzland customs. Anna came to talk to us. I asked a few questions, and somehow I attracted her notice. She looked me up and invited me to dinner.” He laughed. “I thought it was a date.”
“Oh, my.”
“I was quite puzzled by the conversation, and at the same time, entirely entranced by Anna.”
“I know what you mean.”
“By the time the meal was over, I’d have agreed to anything she wanted,” Devon admitted.
“Only you thought she wanted a personal relationship.”
“She drove me home, and on my doorstep asked me, ‘How about it?’ I thought she was inviting herself in for some fun.”
“Oh, no.”
“So I invited her in. She shrugged but accepted my invitation and then asked, ‘Did you need to think about it?’ I asked what was there to think about, and loosened my tie.” He offered a laugh. “She took on the strangest expression and then said, ‘No, no. Devon, I am offering you a job.’ Before I could even answer she continued, rushing out the door, ‘Come see me if you’re interested.’”
“How long did you wait?”
“I ran after her and said, ‘Working for you?’ She turned around and said, ‘Yes, a professional relationship.’ And I asked when I could begin. ‘Tomorrow.’ I’ve been with her ever since. I don’t know what I’ll do if she ever retires. I can’t imagine working for anyone else. She’s tried three times to promote me, but each time it would be away from her. I keep refusing.”
“I don’t blame you,” I said. “I wanted to stay here, too, but she said she needs me on Talmon.” I thought about it. “I’d do anything for her.”
“She breeds loyalty,” Devon declared. “Here we are.” He turned me. A door opened as we approached, and he pushed me through.
We were in a sort of examination room, filled with equipment I didn’t recognize. Devon barely got me settled before a technician entered the room behind us.
“Good morning, Ms. Herschel,” he said in English.
“Good morning,” I replied. “My English bad.”
He nodded, and then Devon spoke longer. After that, the technician spoke very carefully, but Devon translated everything.
The technician nodded, and then his eyes flicked back and forth a few times. I realized he was using his own implant. He stared for a minute or two before focusing on me. “Right,” he said finally. “You have a 27A, manufactured here, but all 27A’s are from the same pattern, so if you need it serviced, they can do it anywhere.” Devon translated, of course. “Let us start with an image.”
He gestured, and a hologram appeared in the space before us. I looked up and realized the projector was actually mounted to the ceiling facing downward. I didn’t know they could be mounted that way.
The hologram was me, sort of a see-through version. And then it changed, and I could see the new system. “So much?”
“Yes,” he replied. “This is not an advanced system, but it isn’t a simple Model 21, either.” The image changed for a moment to one that was far less intrusive, and then the original image disappeared.
Then Devon said for himself, “This is the base model for any of Anna’s employees who will be stationed away from state of the art medical facilities. It includes enhanced monitoring and can even enact repairs or keep you alive during a medical emergency.”
“Your implant has full details about itself,” the technician said. “For today, we are going to boot the core system and begin teaching you how to use it. It takes most people a few weeks to operate the basics and as many as two to five years to use their implant seamlessly. We do not recommend an upgrade until you become quite proficient in the use of what you already have.” He paused. “Well, let us begin. As installed, your implant is in stasis mode, powered off. It has a quiescent mode, which is powered up, but silent and consuming minimal power.”
“How do I turn it on?”
“There are pressure sensors under your skin,” he said. “It can actually be quite complicated. You must apply pressure to a majority of them. The first is here.”
He lifted his own left hand and then used thumb and forefinger of the right to pinch the skin of his left, right in the cleft between the left thumb and forefinger. “If you press lightly, you can feel it.”
I lifted my own hands and began to feel. Finally I looked up. “Oh,” I said.
He gestured, and on the hologram, I could the image had changed. My hologram image was seated in the chair, holding hands as I was, and there was a green dot at my left hand. I released my pinch, and the dot turned red. Then I played for a moment, turning the dot from green to red.
“There you go,” he said. “That one is typically the easiest to find. There are two here, one on either side.” He lifted his fingers to his head, about midway between temple and the tips of his ears. I did the same to myself, and the technician guided me until my fingers found the switches. On the hologram, the two switches turned green together.
In all, we categorized seven different points, each of them easily reached, but all spread about my body.
“Why are there extras?”
“In case one becomes defective or damaged,” he explained.
“Oh.”
“Once you activate your implant, after training, you will rarely deactivate it, so you will nearly never need to turn it on this way. But in case you do, you will need to know how, and until you are comfortable using your implant, it is best to leave it deactivated. Otherwise, it can cause headaches.”
“I understand.”
“You must activate four.”
“I only have two hands.”
“It is made awkward to avoid accidental activation,” he explained. “You can ask someone else to help you, or you can engage in a variety of convolutions. This
is one way.” He took a simple, plastic clip and clipped it over the pressure point on his left hand. He wrapped a rubber strap around his right wrist then added a small marble. “You can use anything, like a small stone.”
“Or ask for help.”
“Or ask for help,” he said. “Then you press your temples.” He lifted his hands to demonstrate. I nodded, and he removed the two pressure devices and gave them to me.
It took a moment, but I got the first two in place, but before I could lift my hands to my temples, he reached forward and grabbed them.
“Ms. Herschel, your implant will go through a boot sequence and a simple self-diagnostic. It will then power into command mode. It can be quite disconcerting the first time. Please ensure you are seated comfortably, and do not be startled.”
“I understand.” I squirmed for a moment, and then he released my hands. I lifted them into place and pressed the pads near my ears.
I knew the moment I had reached the right point, as there was a quiet “Bing” in my ears, and after a moment later I heard, “Booting...”
“You can relax now,” he said.
I lowered my hands and removed the pressure devices, handing them back.
After a moment, images appeared before me, first a simple logo and the words “Model 21A”, and then what appeared to be a see-through tablet screen. “Boot up Diagnostics” appeared with a progress and success indicator. That took about thirty seconds, and then my implant said, “Boot complete. Ready.”
“It says it’s ready,” I whispered. I turned. “Devon, I have an implant.”
“Yes, Maddalyn,” he said. “You do.”
“I have an implant,” I said again. “Just like people who are Somebody. I have an implant.”
“Yes, Maddalyn. I remember this day for me. I think my technician still remembers that I kissed him.”
I laughed. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” Devon said. “We dated for three months, but he broke it off when he began medical school. He said he couldn’t focus on me while learning to be a doctor.”
