‘Not sure, but I plan to analyse it as a potential super-adhesive. I’ve got sausages, hash browns, and eggs. You think that’ll be enough to keep you going until lunch?’
‘I’m going to be sitting on my ass for hours and you’re going to stuff me full of calories? I’m going to look like a blimp by summer.’
Annette narrowed her eyes at her younger friend. ‘I don’t believe you realise how much energy thinking hard takes. Your brain uses a fifth of your body’s calorific intake. It’s a massive energy hog. This’ – she pointed her spatula at the sausages – ‘is brain food.’
‘Okay, what’s Mickey’s excuse?’
Bark!
‘Quite right, Mickey,’ Annette said. ‘You tell her. Anyway, he’s coming to the workshop with me so he needs brain food too.’
‘And he’s going to be a big help, I’m sure.’
‘He’s very good for bouncing ideas off. Besides, I’m cooking sausages. How much work do you think I’m going to get done with him making big, sad doggy eyes at me for the rest of the day?’
Sarah pushed herself upright. ‘Now that is a really valid point. I’ll get dressed and eat your brain food. I bet I won’t use half of it.’
~~~
Queens Higher School was about three kilometres from the new apartment. It was a modernised upgrade of an old college which had been there for over a century. Various plaques around the place suggested that education on the site went back to the nineteenth century. Now it had two buildings, one for the eleven to eighteen age group, and one for adults, though some of the facilities were shared. Sarah was attending the adult section, working to get her basic skills up to spec.
‘You’re nervous,’ Annette said as they stood outside the main doors.
‘No,’ Sarah replied, ‘I’m–’
‘It wasn’t a question. You are nervous.’
‘Okay, yes, I’m nervous. What if I can’t do it? What if–’
Annette sighed. ‘Sarah, we both know you’re smarter than you like to make out. You’re fully capable of grasping some basic educational courses so long as you don’t have boys to worry about. I’d imagine you’re over that distraction this time around.’
‘Unless there’s someone really hunky in there.’
Watching a man with thinning hair and a nose you could have used as the centreboard on a schooner walk up the steps, Annette said, ‘I think you’re probably safe.’
‘Yeah… Well, wish me luck.’
Annette shook her head. ‘You don’t need luck, just application. Have a good day. Learn something.’ She watched Sarah troop up the steps into the building and then turned to leave. ‘Come on, Mickey. We have our own work to do.’
~~~
The workshop was really starting to come together. The first of the nanofabricator units was up, running, and busy making the subassemblies Annette would put together to make a second unit. Mickey had a basket beside Annette’s desk and was generally happy to lie in it, watching her work, though he did act as a reminder to pull her head out of whatever project she was working on every so often. That was far from being a bad thing. In a spare moment, Annette had painted the walls a steely grey, which was not exactly pretty but it did look better than rough concrete. At some point, the upstairs section would get a facelift too.
Annette, with the help of the suitcase fabricator, was currently working on a fairly simple project, if one Annette thought important for her new role in enclave society. Alison had sourced a supply of a very fast-acting sedative which Annette was planning to use to subdue targets without much danger of death. To make it as effective as possible, she was adapting her normal rounds to use a thinner, harder penetrator which, she thought, ought to be able to inject the sedative into flesh even through quite dense armour.
To get around the relatively low-velocity rounds her pistols fired, Annette had designed her bullets to use the last of their rocket propellant to blast the penetrator into the target on contact. It was a bit like firing a captive bolt, but without the captive bit. The new rounds did the same, but in place of a programmable density penetrator, there was a high-density, needle-sharp dart filled with sedative.
Annette squinted at the firing mechanism she was working on and considered using some of the sedative on herself. Her headache was, once again, annoying her and seemed to be getting worse. Mickey eyed her with his chin resting on his paws as she took more headache pills.
‘It’s just a headache,’ Annette told him. When that just got her a mournful whine, she added, ‘It’s not that serious. I’ve had way worse than this.’ She got the distinct impression that Mickey was suggesting that self-delusion was a pitiful thing to see in an intelligent woman, but her diagnostics were indicating nothing major. There were a few protein build-ups being worked on, but they were unlikely to be the cause of her pain. ‘I’ve got a hangover,’ Annette stated firmly. ‘That’s all it is.’
Mickey did not look impressed.
~~~
Sarah walked down the steps from the school’s main entrance with a weary look on her face. She smiled when she saw Annette and Mickey waiting for her, and skipped toward them, dropping to her haunches to give Mickey a hug.
‘Who’s a good dog?’ Sarah said, grinning. ‘Have you kept Louise company in her dusty workshop all day? Have you? Yes, you have.’
‘My workshop is not dusty,’ Annette said, smirking. ‘You could eat off most of the work surfaces. Good day at school?’
Sarah straightened up and nodded. ‘I think so. I wasn’t struggling to keep up. You were right about the food though. I was ravenous by lunchtime.’
Nodding curtly, Annette turned for home. ‘Told you. Any potential distractions in class?’
Falling into step, Sarah shook her head. ‘It’s mostly older people who missed out on their education during the plague and war years. I don’t think I’ll be in any danger until I move on to Sky City. The older boys in the junior section might try it on from the looks I got a couple of times, but they’re way too young for my tastes.’
Annette laughed. ‘Some of them are probably less than a year younger than you are.’
‘Only according to the calendar.’
‘Which is how most people measure it.’ Though Annette had to admit that Sarah was probably far older as far as mindset and experience went, even if she did not always seem to act like it.
‘I did meet a couple of nice people,’ Sarah went on. ‘I don’t think I’ll lack friends.’
‘Somehow, I doubt you ever do. You’re a likeable person.’ A twinge of pain shot through Annette’s right temple, causing her eye to twitch. More painkillers when she got back to their apartment…
‘Thank you and right back at you.’ Sarah glanced at Annette, her grin shifting to a look of concern in an instant. ‘Louise? Are you okay?’
Annette stumbled as a wave of nausea passed over her and her vision dimmed. ‘I… Just a hangover. I–’
There were sounds after Annette’s vision cut out: Mickey barking, Sarah’s shriek of ‘Louise!’ For a few seconds, the noises persisted and then they too faded into nothing.
20/4/2117.
The first thing Annette noticed was the scent. Disinfectant, some sort of vaguely floral air freshener, and that weirdly specific, sick-people smell unique to hospitals. There were sounds too to indicate that she was somewhere medical; primarily that was the sound of a heart monitor beeping in time to someone’s pulse, probably her own.
She opened her eyes and confirmed her initial diagnosis. She was in a small hospital ward: four beds set in a square, though only one of the others was occupied and that occupant was wired into so much machinery that it was clear they would not be waking up any time soon. Annette frowned: she was in an intensive care unit.
There was no sign of her clothes or her gear, so she pressed the buzzer for attention and waited. It did not take long before a nurse appeared, took one look at her, and vanished again before Annette could speak. A couple of minutes later, the
nurse returned behind a doctor Annette did not recognise.
‘I’m Doctor Amhurst,’ the man said, walking toward Annette and raising a penlight before remembering that pupil dilation tests were going to get him nowhere. ‘We weren’t really expecting you to be conscious so soon.’
Annette gave a shrug. ‘You figured out what happened?’
‘Uh… Not really. We detected some unusual blood clotting and treated you for that. We were scheduling MRI and CAT scans for tomorrow. I’d still like to–’
Annette had pulled up her own diagnostics as soon as he had said ‘not really’ and she cut him off as the headlines came into view. ‘That won’t be necessary, Doctor. I have several cybernetic implants, as you’ll have noticed, and I have a rejection problem. Your scans aren’t going to reveal anything I don’t already know.’ There had, indeed, been an undetected clotting problem. Undetected until it was almost too late. The diagnostics suggested that she had been minutes from a fatal stroke. Trying to keep her concern from her face, Annette said, ‘If you could get someone to take the IV and catheter out, I’d like to get home.’
‘I really think that you should stay in for further tests,’ Amhurst argued. ‘This was a serious attack. You may not be so lucky next time.’
‘I’m aware of that. I have… an appointment lined up with my cyberneticist to resolve the issue. I’m going to see if it can be moved up to a closer date first thing tomorrow.’
Amhurst did not look pleased, but he nodded. ‘I’ll have the release paperwork ready for you by the time you’re dressed.’
~~~
‘Are you sure you’re going to be okay?’ Sarah asked for the third time at the entrance to the school.
Annette smiled at her. Sarah had fallen asleep in their armchair the night before with Mickey at her feet, both of them waiting for news which came in the form of Annette walking in, apparently fine. Neither woman nor dog were entirely buying it. Mickey would not be a problem – he would worry when Annette set her plan in motion – but there was nothing much to do about that. Sarah, however, would want details and then worry all through the day.
‘I’m fine,’ Annette said. ‘I’m going to be very busy in the workshop today so if I’m not here when you come out, don’t worry about it. Okay?’
Sarah made a face. ‘Okay. But if you’re not home when I get back, I’m calling to make sure you haven’t blacked out again.’
‘Fair enough. Now, go have a good, educational day. And don’t tease the boys.’
That brought on a pout. ‘As if I would. You look after her, Mickey.’
Bark!
‘That’s my good nursing dog.’ Forcing a grin, Sarah turned and trooped up the steps.
Annette looked down at her dog. ‘Okay, Mickey, let’s get back to the apartment. You’re not going to like this, but it’s got to be done.’
Mickey looked back and gave a soft whine, almost as though he understood exactly what was going on. There were times, like this one, when Annette thought that Mickey was not so much a mongrel as some form of animal-intelligence genetic experiment. That, of course, was ridiculous. It was, right?
~~~
Well, if Mickey was, in fact, some form of hyper-intelligent super-dog, he refrained from passing comment as Annette settled onto her bed covered only in a sheet. He sat beside the bed, watching Annette’s peculiar daytime activities with a slightly bemused expression. It was the paler-grey, very shaggy eyebrows, Annette decided, which somehow seemed to make his face more expressive than that of a typical canine.
The mystery of Mickey’s brainpower was set aside as Annette prepared herself for the execution of Project Omega. All the necessary configuration and program files had been placed ready in a folder on her internal computer. All she needed to do was execute the software patcher, lie back, and let her systems do the work. The re-engineering was going to be extensive. She would sleep through pretty much the whole thing; she had made sure of that to avoid worrying about what was going on herself. There were things to worry about. There would be a period where her body was essentially devoid of any form of immune system. Not a long period, certainly, but you never knew what might happen and if the new nanomachines did not take properly…
‘No time for second thoughts, Mickey,’ Annette said. ‘You keep a watch for me. I’m going to be going to sleep for a while.’ Mickey replied with a soft whine and settled onto the floor with his chin on his paws. ‘Okay then. Here goes nothing.’ And Annette ran the first file.
~~~
Mickey was not pleased with the situation. While Louise had made reassuring sounds before going to bed, what had happened since was not reassuring at all. At first it seemed like she was just asleep, but then she began to shift under the sheet. He had looked up and moved closer, because it seemed like she was having a nightmare, but it had not been quite the same so he had backed off again.
Then he had begun to smell sweat and gone to check. His mistress was still now, but her body temperature was up enough that perspiration was soaking through the sheet. Mickey’s old master had had fevers, but never anything like this. Mickey knew of nothing he could do except to be there, and he had let out a whine of frustration before settling back down to wait.
Now it was different. Louise was shivering. The sheet was glued to her thanks to the hot stage earlier, but now her body was shuddering as if from cold. This was more worrying than anything. His last master had been like that on the night Louise had taken him home. Shivering, shuddering, and then there had been the stillness even before his breathing had stopped. That was not going to happen again! Rules about being on the bed were made to be broken, especially in dire emergency. Mickey climbed up onto the sheet and pressed himself as close as he could against his mistress. Sharing his heat had not worked on that fateful night, but maybe this time things would be different.
~~~
‘Louise?’ As indicated, there had been no one waiting outside the school for Sarah and, as she had indicated, Sarah had her phone in her hand as she entered the apartment, ready to call if there was no one home. ‘Louise? You in?’
There was no reply from Louise, but there was a bark from her room and Sarah opened the door, looking in to see her friend lying under a soaked-through sheet with Mickey lying beside her. Sarah’s eyes widened and she was just about to dial for emergency services when she noticed the sheet of paper lying on the bed at Louise’s feet. Frowning, she picked it up and read the hand-written note.
I’m not dead! If you’re reading this, the process is taking a bit longer than I thought. Don’t worry and don’t call an ambulance. The hospital wouldn’t know what to do anyway. Hopefully, I’ll be awake to explain soon. Love, Louise.
Sarah looked at Mickey. ‘She’s been like this all day?’ Mickey whined in a manner which seemed to indicate that she had. ‘Why does she do this kind of thing to us?’ Another whine, presumably of agreement.
Not knowing what else to do, Sarah settled down on the opposite side of Louise from Mickey and prepared to wait.
~~~
The first thing Louise noticed when she became aware of her surroundings was the time: 16:48:32. Inwardly, she winced. Sarah would have arrived home and found her unconscious. Hopefully she had read the note before panicking. There was no sound of hospital monitors…
There was a lot of after-action reporting beginning to scroll across the inside of Louise’s eyelids. Some of the figures she was seeing did not look especially good, but they were all transients. Her body temperature had spiked and then fallen: there was a comment regarding the tissue repair those fluctuations had necessitated. The rise had been during the main manufacturing phase, when the mass of nanomachines had been created. The fall had been the result of the shutdown and replacement of the mitochondria in her cells. For a time, her body had been basically shutting down, but the system had coped. Aside from some lingering tissue repair and the tidy-up operation, her metabolism was running at normal levels.
Except that just about ev
erything was being run under the supervision of tiny robots: cellular replication and repair, immune response, energy production, oxygen transportation. Everything was computer controlled, run by machines designed to learn as they went with one, overriding directive: keep their host alive. Well, so far so good.
Louise opened her eyes. She looked to her right where there was a weight on her arm. Mickey was there, looking at her with worried eyes. His chin lifted when she turned to look at him, but he made no sound, as though he might be told to move if he drew too much attention to himself.
On her left, Louise discovered Sarah curled up beside her, apparently mimicking Mickey’s desire to be close by. Louise grinned… and realised that she was thinking of herself as Louise. She had been Annette when she started the process and now she felt much more like Louise. She had really left her old self behind now. There was a display available to her from her health monitors which told her exactly how much waste material needed to be flushed from her system, and when it was gone, it would be washing away the last dregs of Annette Barrington. Or that was how it felt. It also felt like Louise was probably going to develop hypochondriac tendencies given the amount of biological information she had available to her now.
Shifting her legs a little produced that disgusting feel of damp cloth unsticking from skin and a grunt of disgust which produced a sudden and immediate reaction. Sarah bolted up from the bed, eyes wide and staring at Louise. Mickey lifted his head and barked. Wincing, Louise started unpeeling the sheet from her skin so that she could sit up.
‘You’re awake!’ Sarah squeaked.
‘No,’ Louise replied. ‘I’m a zombie and any second now, I’m going to start looking for a way into your skull.’
‘Don’t joke about things like that! I came in and you were lying there and Mickey was beside you and we were both worried and I saw the note and–’
‘Breathe, Sarah. Your body needs oxygen, which it won’t get on a constant exhale.’
Sarah pulled in a huge lungful of air and set off again. ‘What on Earth did you think you were doing? You had both of us scared silly. I could just tell that Mickey’s been worried all day. What process? What did you do?’
Gunwitch: Rebirth Page 23
