“You really helped me today, Anja,” said Gunnar. “Especially the part about keeping people who are no longer alive at the forefront of our attention.”
“Oh that, yeah,” she said.
“I feel like it caused me to have a bit of a breakthrough.”
“Really?”
He proceeded to tell her about his great-grandfather on his mother’s side, who was born in the Netherlands but had moved to Lithuania to oversee an electronics factory. When World War II broke out, he was appointed as acting consul of the Dutch government-in-exile. After the Soviet Union seized Lithuania, a number of Jewish Dutch residents approached him to get visas to Curaçao.
“He could see how desperate they were,” explained Gunnar. “Even though he knew it would jeopardize his career and his safety, he decided to do what he could to help. The word soon spread and Jews fleeing from German-occupied Poland also asked for his assistance. He ended up signing thousands of visas, referring the refugees to a Japanese consul, who granted them rights of transit through Japan. This offered them a way to safety via the Trans-Siberian Railway.”
“Your great-grandfather was incredibly brave,” said Anja.
“Not all of them made it,” Gunnar continued. “But a lot did, that we know. Even so, for the rest of his life, he never talked about any of it. No one in my family did. I had to learn about it on my own. When I was thirteen, I found an award tucked away in a drawer. It was called the Life Saving Cross of the Republic of Lithuania, granted to him after he died.”
“Wow… that’s quite an honor.”
“Finding the cross, learning what it meant, changed me forever. It made me see the madness of war. I mean, truly see it—all the millions of people who suffered and died, whose lives were destroyed by the atrocities of others, who were shot in the head, worked to death, starved, cremated in fires, exterminated in gas chambers, you name it.”
“Horrific,” Anja said. “Completely horrific.”
“I never could come to terms with it, if you want to know the truth. Of course, I’m proud of what my great-grandfather did, but the fact that such madness ever happened is what I couldn’t accept.”
“That’s very understandable,” she consoled him.
“It’s why he never wanted to talk about it, I’m sure, because what is there to say? Humans are insane. War is insane. End of story.” Gunnar paused to catch his breath. “And so, the way I dealt with it all these years was to hide in the wilderness. It’s the only place that ever made any sense to me… until I met you.”
Anja’s eyes turned moist.
“Am I freaking you out?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said. “You’re doing the opposite of that.”
“This isn’t normal for me. You know that, right? I don’t do this kind of thing.”
“This isn’t normal for me either.”
The moonlight crept through the window of the chalet and in its glint their eyes met, much in the same way that Illi Yupanqui and Kora-Illé had gazed upon each other all those years ago. Slowly, Anja brought her lips closer to Gunnar’s and Gunnar brought his lips closer to Anja’s. The impossibility of their circumstance melted just enough to allow their lips to touch.
Ever so gently, they kissed. They held their lips together for several seconds—not so long as to seem inappropriate, but long enough for the fate of the universe to shift perceptibly, and far longer than either of them had expected. Then Anja abruptly retracted, drying her tearing eyes with the back of her hands.
“I wish… I really wish I could, but…”
Gunnar tenderly pressed two fingers to her lips. “You don’t have to explain anything, Anja. That one kiss is more than I could have hoped for and all that I’ll ever need.”
Eighteen
October 24, 2024
Chalet A1, Portillo, Chile
As I was slowly beginning to recognize, the human experience seemed to be a never-ending balancing act. Or perhaps it wasn’t about striving to remain in balance, but rather accepting that one could never quite be in balance. I didn’t presume to know, and I doubted a concierge ever could, although I certainly scanned the cultural data to bolster my familiarity with the issue.
It was while in this state, shortly before dawn, that I again detected movement outside of the chalet. Before I could peer out of the front window, three loud knocks sounded at the door.
“Who is it?” I called out.
“Diego Ripall and his digi-mom and digi-dad,” said a voice.
“Hello!” I replied, opening the door. “Come in!”
A young couple with a newborn baby entered the chalet. The man displayed blond hair in a ponytail, thick glasses and a digital Pendleton. The woman displayed short brunette hair tucked under an alpaca beanie and a digital denim dress. She held the baby in a digital carrier.
“I’m Alfonso,” said the man, reaching out his hand. “This is Rachel and our digi-son, Diego.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking Alfonso’s and Rachel’s hands. “I met Diego when he was in a very different state. Anja, say hi to Diego!” I cooed at the baby and tickled his chin.
After a moment, Anja came into the living room, followed by Gunnar. They both seemed a bit groggy and unsteady.
“Good morning, sleepyheads,” I said. “This is little baby Diego and his digi-parents, Alfonso and Rachel.”
“Diego?” mouthed Anja. “Diego Ripall?”
“That’s right,” replied Alfonso. “It all happened pretty fast. Before the rebirthing, we were hiking together in Machu Picchu.”
“One afternoon, it started to drizzle while the sun was shining,” explained Rachel. “A rainbow opened up across the sky. It was so vivid and bright, it seemed like it was just for us. And then, as we stared at it, we all had a joint epiphany.”
“Sounds like quite a moment,” said Anja.
“It sure was,” said Rachel. “All at once, I knew I wanted to be a mom, Alfonso realized he wanted to be a dad, and Diego yearned for another try at growing up.” She beamed a smile and stroked Diego’s head.
“So we became digi-parents!” enthused Alfonso.
“That’s cool,” said Gunnar. “Very cool.”
“What about Diego’s wife and child?” asked Anja.
“They’re doing great,” replied Rachel. “Paul’s all grown up now and lives on a virtual spaceship. Rebecca spends most of her time as a kangaroo in the Australian outback—that was always her favorite animal. We hear she’s also quite close to her concierge, if you know what I mean.” She winked for emphasis.
“I see,” said Anja.
“That sort of thing is pretty popular these days,” Rachel added.
“Anyway,” said Alfonso, “Diego’s biggest concern was in regard to you.”
“Oh?”
“He felt really bad that he wouldn’t be available for you. He wanted us to explain to you that this was something he felt compelled to do. He just couldn’t wait.”
“I understand,” Anja replied.
“We promised him that we would be there for you,” said Rachel. “So if anything comes up, anything at all, please let us know.”
“That’s very kind.”
“There’s just one other thing we should mention,” said Alfonso.
“Sure,” replied Anja.
“We’re going to do accelerated aging with Diego. We expect he’ll reach adulthood within the next year or so. But the thing is, we feel like we stumbled on a very special triad here.” Baby Diego made a gurgling sound.
“We really did,” said Rachel.
“Uh huh…” said Anja.
“So our next step will probably be some DNA combining,” said Alfonso.
“We haven’t decided on the exact proportions or roles yet, but we’re already super-excited,” enthused Rachel. “I might be a fifty-thirty-twenty mix, probably going back to preadolescence, not the whole baby thing, and I’ll probably be a boy this time.”
“I like the idea of straight
thirds for myself starting at thirteen,” said Alfonso. “But no gender-switching for me. And we don’t yet know what Diego will choose. It’s going to depend on his childhood experience. We’ll bring in some other parents, of course. The main thing is, we just wanted to alert you to the fact that next time you see him, he’ll probably have some different DNA and, who knows, maybe he’ll be a female this time. He wanted us to tell you in advance because he really, really loves you.”
“Everyone loves you,” said Rachel.
“Thank you,” Anja said softly. “Diego was like an uncle to me. He and my father were best friends.”
“Yeah,” said Alfonso. “Before the rebirthing, Diego talked about your father all the time. He must have been an amazing person to have in your life.”
Anja nodded her head. “I’m very happy for all of you. I really appreciate your stopping by.”
“Absolutely,” said Rachel. “Be sure to stay in touch.”
“We will, of course.”
Everyone embraced, we bade adieus, and Diego went off with his new digi-parents.
“You look a bit shell-shocked,” said Gunnar. “Are you okay?”
“To be honest,” replied Anja, “that was sort of weird for me.”
“I can imagine.”
“I knew zero percenters were getting into this stuff,” she continued, “but it seems different when a friend does it.”
“For sure,” said Gunnar. “My buddy Stefan just mixed with five other Olympic skiers. Makes you wonder how common it is.”
“Do you have any stats, Vicia?” asked Anja.
“So far,” I replied, “eighteen point four percent of zero percenters have engaged in DNA combining or editing. Nine point three have switched gender. Of these, only one point two percent have reverted to their original DNA.”
“That’s good to know they can revert,” said Anja, “but I’m not sure I see the point of messing with DNA. Since they’re all digital, what difference does it make? Can’t zero percenters just choose a shell that best fits whatever they want to achieve?”
“Only to a point,” explained Gunnar. “Stefan said his new DNA mix improved his performance. In competitive skiing, even a small advantage can make a big difference.”
“That’s true,” I confirmed. “Genes can significantly influence neural motor skills, as well as cognition.”
“So the mixing is sort of a digital alternative to having babies, in terms of evolution?” asked Anja.
“Very much so,” I said. “Zero percenters can’t reproduce, since new births aren’t possible, but they can do rebirths and DNA mixing, which have a similar effect on the gene pool.”
“You’d think some females would miss getting pregnant, though,” said Gunnar.
“Possibly,” I replied, “but it’s not much of an issue because pregnancy simulators are widely available. Also, there is plenty of demand for mothers to raise rebirthed babies, so they always have that option.”
“Interesting,” said Gunnar.
“You two are the last humans who could ever reproduce biologically,” I added.
“Vicia!” said Anja, blushing. “Don’t be rude!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything offensive.”
“She’s just stating the obvious,” said Gunnar. “It’s okay.”
“I should have realized that was a socially inappropriate comment, “ I said. “I apologize. I’m really very sorry.”
Anja let out a deep sigh. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t get so bent out of shape. Gunnar and I are the last two humans who could ever reproduce biologically. What’s wrong with saying that? Nothing. It’s just a fact. It’s just our current reality.”
“You’ve been through a lot lately,” I replied. “All these changes are difficult to absorb.”
“Yes,” she said, “they are.”
Gunnar held out his hand for Anja.
“I feel like I’m starting to fall apart,” she continued. “Diego was my last real connection to my dad. And now I’ve lost him too.” She closed her eyes and took a breath.
“Maybe we should all try to meditate again,” I suggested.
“I’d like to,” said Anja, “but it only seems to work for me when I’m on a mountain.”
“Then let’s climb a mountain,” said Gunnar.
She looked up at him hopefully. “Can we climb the big one?” she asked.
“You mean Aconcagua?”
“Yeah, can we climb Aconcagua?”
“It’s a bit early in the season for that… still too cold. Plus it’s a pretty involved process, not exactly like the way I described it for Kora-Illé. It’s over twenty-two thousand feet in elevation, so you have to go up in several stages to adjust to the altitude. It can take weeks.”
“Have you ever climbed it?” she asked.
“Yep, three times, three different routes, summited each time.”
“Wow.”
“It’s not at the level of Everest, which I’ve also summited, but it’s a serious endeavor, not to be underestimated. There’s a reason they call it the Mountain of Death.”
“What if I were to fly you both there?” I offered.
“It might shave off a little time to bring us to a lower camp, but you certainly couldn’t just drop us at the peak. We’d get altitude sickness. Like I said, it’s pretty involved—not the kind of thing you can do in a day.”
“Is anyone here in a rush?” asked Anja.
“I’m in no rush,” I said.
“I guess I’m not either,” said Gunnar.
“Is anyone here afraid of the cold?”
“No.”
“No.”
“Then it sounds like we have a plan,” said Anja, her eyes brightening.
Nineteen
October 25, 2024
Confluencia, Aconcagua, Argentina
Although lying wholly in Argentina, Mount Aconcagua was only about fifteen miles away from Hotel Portillo, as the crow flies. The altitude differential, however, was 13,391 feet. Our chalet sat at 9,450 feet, whereas the summit of Aconcagua towered over us at 22,841 feet. For this reason, Gunnar suggested we begin our ascent from Confluencia, a lower camp in the foothills at 11,122 feet, which would be a reasonable elevation from which to initiate our acclimatization.
I offered to fly Anja and Gunnar to the camp one at a time on my back, but Gunnar had other ideas. After he finished his breakfast quesadillas, he opened the curtain of our chalet to reveal Jake and Stefan—along with their respective concierges, Andreas and Gil—hopping around outside in the form of giant teratorns. We all rushed out to greet them.
“Dude,” said Jake as he gave Gunnar a high five with his outstretched wing, “no one else uses this gear anymore, so I scored you the best.”
Laid out on the patio were various sizes of double boots, high-altitude coats, down pants, wool long johns, wicking shirts, fleece hats, mittens, socks, face masks, and goggles, as well as sleeping bags, tents, trekking poles, crampons, ice axes, cooking stoves, backpacks and packaged food items.
“Sweet!” exclaimed Gunnar. “Mountain Hardware coats and Spantik boots!”
“Are we really going to need such heavy-duty stuff?” asked Anja.
“It’s been dropping to minus twenty-seven Fahrenheit at the summit,” replied Jake, “so, uh, yeah, you’re definitely gonna want the primo gear.”
Anja and Gunnar proceeded to pick out the items that fit them best. They changed into base layers and set aside the heavier clothing for higher elevations. Meanwhile, I chose an assortment of food for them—oatmeal, rice, nuts, mushrooms, dried fruit, powdered eggs, potatoes, tuna fish, power bars, gels, chocolate, tea and various candies.
While Jake, Stefan, Andreas and Gil packed the gear and food, we hurriedly tidied the chalet and left a message of thanks. Jake then motioned for Gunnar to climb onto his back and I switched to the teratorn form as well, so that Anja could ride my back. Stefan, Gil, and Andreas carried the packs. Our group now consisted of five giant
teratorns and two biological humans. After several whoops of delight, we took flight for Confluencia, with Jake leading the way.
The excitement of spring filled the air and there was barely a cloud in the sky. Although the wind carried a chill, we soared gleefully in V-formation, enjoying the feeling of the sun as it illuminated the peaks and valleys of the Andes. All five teratorns, including myself, seemed able to handle the loads without difficulty.
In a matter of minutes, we crossed Los Libertadores pass, this time heading east. We continued soaring over Las Cuevas toward the park entrance of Aconcagua. Before the era of zero percenters, hikers had to go to the city of Mendoza to get climbing permits in order to enter the park, but that was no longer necessary.
Slowly and deliberately, we flapped our way up the Horcones Valley, taking in the scenic grandeur while following a flight path that required as little elevation gain as possible. Had there been any onlookers, we would have made quite a spectacle—five gorgeous specimens of Argentavis magnificens gliding through the crisp blue sky high above the Argentina wilderness.
Spring had arrived early to the region, largely a consequence of global warming. Most of the snow had melted on the valley floor and the streams were swollen with water. As we passed over the ranger station, we caught a glimpse of the massive glacier-covered south wall of Aconcagua. While impressive, the Andean glaciers had lost almost two-thirds of their ice in the past fifty years. Now that humans had ceased their polluting, we could only hope this retreat would be reversed.
The terrain below was sprinkled with low bushes, such as yellow firewood, yareta and goat horn, and there were open pastures made up of grasses such as huecú and ichu. Occasionally, we spied birds frolicking in the area, including torrent ducks, giant hummingbirds and agachona. As we rounded the bend for the Confluencia camp, Anja squeezed my neck and pointed to a family of red foxes traipsing over a hill.
We were having such fun that Jake flew past the camp and continued leading us up the valley. After about a mile, we came to a fork and a canyon opened up to our right. We followed it to Plaza Francia, enjoying a closer, unobstructed view of the entire south wall. Then Gunnar whistled loudly and motioned for us to turn back.
Zero Percenters Page 9
