When Tower noticed that Biyu had found her rhythm he yelled, “level eight,” and the robot picked up speed.
After about half an hour her attention began to fade and the drone began to land a few more touches. “Okay Biyu, time out,” said Tower. The drone deactivated and floated out of the ring to its holding bay.
Biyu wiped her brow and looked at Tower for instruction. She was exhausted.
“Wind down with ten laps freestyle, and I mean a wind down. You are naturally hyper. Use the swim to relax and bring your heart rate down. When you’ve finished I want to analyse your opponent’s last match.”
She found him sitting in a small lounge in front of a large screen. She was still towelling herself dry and because the couch was cloth he tossed her another, drier towel for her to sit on. When she had made herself comfortable and crossed her legs he handed her a protein smoothie blended with delicious goob fruit, a real luxury.
“Okay, Simon Fallaci, the Tank…”
“The fucking Tank,” she spat. “What an arsehole of a name.”
“…from the south; enhanced strength and cardio-vascular; reinforced bone density. He’s fast but not that flexible. You can’t allow him to connect, especially with his left. His enhanced strength and bone density means it will hurt. This is what he did to his last opponent, the match that got him a bout with you.”
The screen lit up and showed the exact moment Fallaci swung his leg around fast and hard, hitting his opponent, Shinji Clark on his unprotected jaw, shattering it. The slomo showed the lower jawbone dislodge from the skull and three bloodied teeth fly out.
“They repaired Shinji but that was the end of his career.”
Biyu grimaced. That kick had been controversial. Fallaci had clearly intended to break his jaw. He could have aimed lower, but he had made a choice to hurt Shinji. There was an appeal but in the end the judges had ruled that it was legal. Many people thought the decision was political, deliberately designed to create controversy in order to magnify interest in the sport.
“He will attempt to knock you out in a similar fashion. He won’t hesitate to hurt you. He wants to create fear to psych his opponents out.”
“Won’t work with me. I plan to give him some of his own medicine.”
Tower glared at Biyu. “And I thought you’d been studying up on strategy, Machiavelli, Sun Tzu…”
“Yeah, so.”
“Fallaci is not stupid. He’s quite psychologically astute. He knows that this is all theatre. He’s made a particular study of the Roman gladiators and he has chosen to play the bad guy. He’ll get booed, but he’ll also get cheered. That’s why they allowed the kick…”
“It’s a theory…”
Tower shook his head. “C’mon Biyu, think it through. The stadium will be packed. That has never happened before. Fallaci is playing the anti-hero and everyone is talking about him. This places enormous pressure on you – which is also part of his strategy, to make you either afraid, or angry; to get you emotional so you’ll make mistakes. He wants you to try and take revenge.”
Biyu nodded that she understood. Humanity might have made significant leaps in its intelligence, but the brain was still compartmentalised. There was still a primitive part of the brain, the amygdala, that reacted viscerally to challenge and danger. She understood that her job as a champion athlete was to provide catharsis for the fans, to stimulate a stress response and then resolve it with a victory. It was theatre but as yet she was unsure how to respond to Fallaci’s tactics.
“Okay, so let’s look at his moves,” she said.
Tower said, “play” and she focused intently on his movements trying to get a sense of his rhythm, his style.
“His advantage is his physical strength. Yours are quick reflexes and stamina. You have to try and encourage him to expend his energy early so that he will tire and make mistakes,” Tower advised.
“Synthesise all camera perspectives,” she instructed her guardian. “And show me his opponent’s pov.”
The screen adjusted immediately and displayed a simulation.
“Smart idea,” nodded Tower. “I assume you’re looking for non-verbal cues.”
She nodded. “They all have them; usually it’s in the eyes. You forgot that other advantage I have. I’m good at reading micro-emotions.”
“Then best I leave you to it.”
She did not acknowledge Tower’s departure; her attention was firmly fixed on the screen. She had to admit Fallaci was good at masking his emotions, even at creating the occasional distraction, but eventually she began to see a pattern: the slight curl of his lip into a small smile and a narrowing of his eyes just before he was about to attempt a knock-out blow. But as she continued to watch she detected an even more vital visual cue: when he began to tire he allowed his line of sight to drop, as if he were unsure of his footing. She realised that if she struck at just this moment, she would catch him off guard.
She continued to watch the vid over and over, until every move and muscle twitch was locked in her memory. She understood that this would be a dance. He would parry and she would counter. If he wanted to play the bad gladiator, then let him. Surely he wasn’t expecting her to try and best him at the beginning? The more she integrated his moves, the more she understood her best option was to play the underdog. Let him land a few blows, let him and the crowd think she was defeated, and then, when she had drawn him out until he was tired, she would triumph and the crowd would love it.
Surely he had thought of that?
28
Nuku
The biological division of the Academy sat behind the environmental domes in the botanic gardens; a complex of laboratories, lecture halls and courtyard gardens featuring the most stunning examples of Eden’s complex flora.
“Ah, there you are,” said professor Bill Drake. “Just in time for morning tea.”
She embraced him just as he stood up from his desk. “How’s Hildegard?” she asked looking down at the carnivorous plant on the corner of his desk.
“Ask her yourself,” he said pulling away from her embrace.
She bent down and allowed the plant to smell her. It reacted by hissing with pleasure, its rudimentary olfactory system remembering her scent as linked to a source of food. “Pleased to smell me Hildegard?” she asked as she stroked the base of its stem.
“Here,” said Bill. “She’s due for a feed.” He reached into a drawer and removed a glass flask, handing Nuku a red leaf insect.
She placed the insect in Hildegard’s green and yellow striated feeding tube and the plant snapped the lid shut, letting out a subtle hiss of air to indicate its pleasure.
It was a short walk to the canteen: Bill was excited to see her and was rushing to fill her in with some of the gossip, mostly the changes in relationship status of their colleagues: who had left a circle, joined one or accepted a new member; who had become pregnant or was planning to.
There was already a group waiting for her, large enough to need to pull some tables together and grab chairs from other tables. “You go over Nuks; I’ll get your order. The usual?”
She nodded yes (moon tea and a chib doughnut), kissed him on the cheek with friendly gratitude and turned her attention to the group, most of them her colleagues, with a few new faces, including to her surprise, Isla Campbell, who had saved Nuku a seat next to her.
“I understand you’ve already met Isla,” said Zlata De Silva. “Allow me to introduce you to two more promising young biologists, Stefan Yuen and Stoya Abramovitch.”
She looked at their smiling faces as they reached across the table to shake her hands, both bird-eyes, no doubt from the north, both young and beautiful, both unabashedly naked, eschewing the formality of sarongs.
She sat at her chair with Isla smiling broadly. She couldn’t help but notice some of the looks on her colleague’s faces, suggesting that they knew that Isla had formed a crush on her, which she found a little embarrassing.
What followed was a lively conversat
ion that mixed gossip with professional news. Nuku was asked about her experiences and discoveries on the Tiangkok peninsula and her colleagues filled her in on some of the new advances: an increase in the speed of genome analysis, a new phylum of plants that used primitive lungs, a new family of walking plants discovered on the north continent, and most intriguing of all, a new species of burrowing animal that early tests indicated was the most intelligent animal on Eden. “Like Earth dogs,” added Zlata excitedly. “They’re cute too,” she added, which renewed a discussion on whether or not to breed animals for domestication, an issue on which she was somewhat neutral, leaning slightly to an anti-instrumentalist view, whilst understanding the emotional need of humans to anthropomorphise animals.
After about two hours the informal gathering wound up with some people apologising that they were already late for other commitments and clearly regretting that such a convivial and informative get-together had to end. She understood. She had missed her colleagues and such exchanges.
“Do you have any commitments?’ asked Isla as Nuku kissed Zlata goodbye. Somehow she had expected this question.
“Um, no, I’m free for the rest of the day.”
“Good, I want to show you something.” She lowered her voice. “Confidential, not everyone here is cleared…”
“So I gathered, given it didn’t come up in the discussion.”
Isla smiled a little too eagerly, still Nuku thought, she was cute.
Their departure signalled the end of the gathering, except for Zlata and Bill who seemed engaged in a more personal and intense conversation.
“Have I missed something?” Nuku asked looking back at Zlata and Bill.
“Oh, that; a professional and personal disagreement; Bill disagrees with Zlata over a question of taxonomy, boring really, and he knocked her back on a sexual proposal.”
Nuku laughed. She knew Zlata would not like either rejection.
Isla’s office was accessed by walking through two courtyards; one featuring a magnificent weeping kraken tree from the eastern continent, its large white flowers in full bloom and releasing a heady fragrance; the second featuring water filled, iridescent globes from the great desert, the iridescence a protection from the harsh sunlight, reflecting it away and creating a dazzling display of light.
There was nothing remarkable about her office, just a few personal objects, a photo of what she assumed was her circle, another of her family and a small erotic statue of two women entwined.
“So, what’s the big secret?” asked Nuku as Isla directed her to sit at her desk in front of her screen.
“Not too many have seen this. It’s vid from the planet I’m going to. I’ve been granted permission to allow you to see this,” she said pulling a second chair beside Nuku.
Nuku thought this was curious. Why would Isla be the one to show her this? Unless of course, Isla had made a specific request in order to impress her. In which case she didn’t know whether to be flattered or concerned at such an assertive ploy.
The vid began and Nuku was immediately impressed. Like most people she had seen vision of old Earth and Pangaea, so she was used to seeing how different life could look on other planets, but nothing had prepared her for the sheer scale and majesty of this new planet. There were massive mountain ranges and deep canyons and rifts, which Isla explained were the result of a particularly active tectonic plate system. There were large forests of giant trees and vast plains of tall grasses, with the fauna equally large, each adapted to its niche: a large panda like creature with pincers that protruded from its jaws so that it could cut through thick, bamboo-like grass; mammoth creatures with long necks that were a cross between a brontosaurus and a zebra, giant bird like creatures with six gossamer wings.
“I’ve been cataloguing as much as I can, using what we know to try and predict the dangers we might face, especially in predicting what strategies predators might use on such large beasties.”
“You haven’t seen any using remote probes?”
“Some, but only the most obvious: a large bird that preys on the young of certain species; a large snake-like amphibian that lurks in water…”
“Python?”
“Yes, sort of, but larger, with a dog-like snout, shark-like teeth.”
“Ouch!”
“Yes, well we won’t be hanging around those river banks, but that’s on the large northern continent, we’re going to a large island that seems far more benign.”
The vid changed to display a dense temperate rainforest filled with curious, multi-coloured tubes and filaments. “We think this is a new type of fungi, which seems to have evolved into the niche usually taken by plants.”
“Fascinating, you must be excited.”
“I can’t wait, but that’s not all. They’ve discovered three new habitable planets and I’ve been told to expect news about more soon.”
“So lots of work for an exobiologist?”
“Lots of work for biologists and geologists in general,” added Isla. “In fact we may face a shortage very quickly.”
“So they’re fast-tracking people?”
Isla seemed offended.
“I didn’t mean you,” Nuku added quickly.
Isla paused to consider her reaction. “You seem taken aback by my age. It’s okay, I’m used to it. It’s a generational thing. I guess I’d be surprised if four and five year-olds started getting doctorates.” She smiled to try and lighten the mood.
Nuku smiled in return. “Well, that may be sooner rather than later, if Tshentso Jayarama is any indication of where humanity is heading.”
Isla laughed. “Yes, freaky. I’ve never met her but I’ve seen vids of some of her speeches – so young, yet so wise.”
“Look, I know all the logical arguments, but even you will have to admit such rapid change does contradict a natural biological drive to treat children differently. You of all people ought to know that evolution is uneven.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh come on Isla. Body of a child, mind of a sophisticated adult playing adult games of seduction.”
Isla seemed startled by Nuku’s bluntness. “I’m not sure I know…”
“Yes, you know very well what I mean. What did you really hope to achieve by asking me here? When were you going to ask me?”
Isla lowered her eyes in admission that her ruse had been uncovered. “When I thought you’d accept. I thought if I could prove that I was your equal.”
“Yes?”
Isla’s face reddened and she became angry. “Nuku, you can’t imagine what it has been like for me. My psycho-sexual development was ahead of my peers. There are more and more of us - in my case I have a hypersensitive nucleus accumbens. This means I am preternaturally hypersexual, a teleiophile, attracted to adults. I can’t easily relate to my chronological peers…”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”
Her anger was turning to tears. “When I was younger, before I became a citizen and gained full sexual rights, I was tested by theraputae and was subject to an assessment by a justice. I had tried to seduce an adult, not once, but three times. The third time drew the attention of the authorities.”
“Your guardian?”
“Of course, they watch everything. The first time the adult gently rebuffed me, knowing of course that our guardians were watching. Nothing was said. The second time the guardian intervened with a caution. The third time, well, they took action.”
“And what happened?”
“I was embarrassed. I was poked and prodded and my head stuck in a magnetic resonance imager.”
“And they diagnosed a hyperactive nucleus accumbens…”
“And other related psycho-sexual parts of the brain, an epigenetic side-effect of my precocious intellect.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I thought I was a freak, well, I was a freak, but in the end the thera and a justice ruled that my hypersexuality was natural and not due to pathological ideation. There’s even a paper on it. The AI was informed and
attempts were made to find me suitable adult partners.”
“Suitable?”
“Those who could accept my precocious sexuality without judgment or a paedophiliac counter response…”
“Who would treat you as an adult?”
She nodded. “I was six, attaining citizenship at age eight was a relief but even then many adults are just not attracted to preebs.”
“You can’t force sexual attraction, even between adults…”
“I know,” she said quietly. “Nor can you deny it, the effects of repression are now well understood.”
Nuku nodded. It was now orthodoxy. Human sexuality was about more than reproduction. It was a reward system and a way to recover from the effects of stress. Repression created stress, which released a cocktail of harmful hormones: cortisol, norepinephrine, adrenaline. Extended repression lead to a number of harmful physical and psychological effects, not the least of which was post-traumatic stress disorder. The pleasure hormones were by far the best antidotes, the body’s inbuilt rebalancing system. She understood why the thera and a justice had granted her an exemption to the under-age restriction.
“I gather you had the standard symptoms of a suppressed libido?”
Isla nodded. “Depression, anxiety, which inhibited my learning and socialisation trajectory.”
“I see, I’m sorry.”
“It’s still not easy. I’m often rejected.”
“But your circle?”
“Have been fantastic, but they’re changing, I’m changing. They want a parenting agreement. Of course I can’t conceive, but they want me to sign as a co-parent.”
“And you want to explore other planets…”
“And they’re not biologists, mechs mostly, robotics, materials science,” Isla attempted a pathetic smile and Nuku laughed.
Paradise Reclaimed Page 18
