by Richard Gohl
At the time of the disaster many of the old world elite vanished and their riches were “taken over,” almost as if to say “finder’s keepers,” usually by those with the information, power, and money to simply stake a claim. It was the same old story: surviving wealthy players simply collected assets, commodities, and shares that weren’t actually for sale, just by being in the right place at the right time. Only the rich could afford the new therapy. They cashed in and became the Nano-peans or Napeans, forever altered. They set up mountain cities with walls to keep out the others, and a jagged roof to keep out the sun.
This population had already assumed ninety percent of the world’s wealth and, in paying for the implementation of the expensive N.E.T., most of that wealth had gone to a very small percentage of the world’s population: Service Officials. These elite who understood and managed the new therapy couldn’t, or wouldn’t, explain it to the rest of the world. On this account many survivors rejected the Napean N.E.T. proposal and went underground out of the sun, to eat and grow hydroponically, living and dying as humans had always done.
The Napean population, denied reproduction, soon reached a plateau or, with the euthanasia option, went into a slow decline. But those that had settled the underworld continued to reproduce, refashioning their culture in a subterranean existence.
Relations between the two groups were kept to a minimum, but resentments bred resentments. On one hand, Napeans had made all the sacrifices and embraced the future; the “subs” were just a burden and a drag on the environment. On the other, Napeans were unnatural: one individual using up multiple lifetimes while keeping “real people” as an underclass for slavery and child theft.
Humans had always been good at holding those different from themselves in contempt.
Chapter 3
From Shane’s Window
THE LOFTY MOUNTAIN city was one of only sixteen Napean cities on Earth. It was as far south as possible to avoid the northern heat, while staying above water level. The foothills on the Western side of the Range were the high tide mark, and the city extended east from the mountain ridge. In Asia and the Americas there were some thirteen other Napean cities.
Shane lived with his wife Mia, in the Spiral precinct in the southeastern section of the city, adjacent to the Belair Gate. From the upper window of his house he had quite a view. The incandescent white haze of the sun bled out its pale fury onto the already over-baked hillside landscape to the east. The environment was still quite beautiful in its decrepitude.
The random structures of the city were enclosed by huge jutting, sloping, terraced, three-centimeter-thick “Lunatex,” a type of silicon, glass. From a distance the city looked like a giant amalgamation of crystal made from smoky topaz. This glass prevented the people from being burnt alive, yet provided light and a view out to inhospitable terrain, a golden sky, and the unpredictable weather. In reality, the sky was white, but from behind the smoky glass, it looked golden brown. In this light the occupants were suspended like insects in an amber time capsule.
A company called Intelava revolutionized architecture with laser projection building. To build, a laser blue print of a structure was beamed onto a location. Then molten moon dust was drawn up into the blue print, from the bottom creating a solid, strong, and detailed frame onto which other layers of the building were projected. Digital designs of any nature could be projected into the air, forged into reality by running high tensile molten Lunatex along the lines—any shape, anywhere.
Internal cavities were filled the same way. Bombarded by meteorites for millions of years, the extremely dry, fine lunar soil was made up of rock particles, mono-mineralic fragments, and various kinds of glasses, including agglutinate particles—all perfect for laser projection building. Moon dust had been harvested over a century for that express purpose. Using the power of the space vacuum, moon dust was hovered up in bulk and carried across to half a dozen of the space stations above those cities that had taken to this form of building. The man in the moon had been sent into early retirement. The mining company was quick to recognize a wonderful advertising opportunity. The moonscape now featured the company logo: a colossal “I,” for Intelava.
A problem with this method of building was that subsequent building layers did not always fuse sufficiently with previous layers. Molecule integrity scans determined where this had happened, and Subs performed the dangerous task of laser welding buildings where fusion had not occurred sufficiently.
Shane could see in the distance today’s selection of Subs coming up from underground and in through the Belair gate below and to the east, to begin their daily work.
Most Napeans occupied themselves in the virtual worlds of information, entertainment, spirituality, or extreme pursuits. Shane worked closely with the Peoples’ Service in security. He was proud to say that he’d killed many Subs attempting to steal, hijack, or perform various other acts of terrorism on the Napean population. He used a laser bolt pistol. Forty-eight hours of shooting before recharge. Not that this was required, of course. In the unlikely event of a “flat battery,” an emergency charge gave the user an extra twenty-four hours of solid use. The last twenty years had seen the end of laser “beam” weapons. Although more destructive, they posed a greater risk to the wielder. Beam guns shot a continuous arc of blistering laser energy capable of cutting concrete. Unfortunately, they had a tendency to “lock” and fuse with a target, causing meltdown at point of origin. In other words, the person holding the gun melted.
Shane watched Subs as he had done nearly every day for a hundred years. He felt sorry for them; it was too late for them to change now. They were trapped in a subsistence underworld. But there was no humility in them; they all shared the same stubborn outlook on life: “Napeans are unnatural!” What’s natural anyway? thought Shane. It’s natural to want the human race to survive. Some of us will and some won’t. That’s why I’m here and they’re there. Evolution.
Shane yelled out to his wife, bringing up an ongoing moral debate: “Y’know, darling, you wonder why I have no problem sleeping at night…”
“I never said that!” she yelled back from the atrium.
“Well, that I’m not consumed with guilt over the things I’ve done…”
“It’s your job and I respect you for that!” answered Mia.
“Yeah, but… I mean, it’s the hypocrisy I can’t stand.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “They…”
“Subs?” Mia clarified.
“Yes. The attack on Friday was all about our lack of care for the Earth… but I don’t see what they’re doing to help.”
“I know, darling. They have old-fashioned beliefs,” he agreed.
Shane was a dog with a bone: “How can they not want to help find a new world?”
“Don’t pretend you care about any of that!” said Mia.
“Well, they still need help from us. We made all the sacrifices.”
“Tell me about it!” said Mia.
“Look at them streaming in here like insects asking us for help!” He waved his arms out at the window as he looked across to where the real workers were coming in.
“Leave them alone, darling –they’re not hurting anyone. They come in here to do our dirty work!” Mia replied.
The Peoples’ Service had long taken the credit for “tolerating” different responses to the environmental change. The Service suspected that Subs might play a role in the evolution of the species yet.
“All right. I’m going to Belair Gate; what are you doing?” Shane asked her. Mia was a typical Napean-looking female without the usual augmentation or body sculpting: a hundred and seventy centimeters tall, well-built, brown hair, hazel-cultured eyes, and a strong nose.
“Try not to kill anyone today, darling,” she said with a wry smile. They kissed. “You know me—only the naughty ones,” said Shane.
Shane arrived at the Gate and sat up high, observing the entry of the Subs in electro telepathic communicati
on with his guards on the ground. He was the Captain; if he saw anything untoward, he let them know. As one of the earlier Napean converts, Shane’s experience made him a highly valuable employee. There was nothing he hadn’t seen.
Chapter 4
Free Time
NAPEANS HAD A lot of free time, yet found themselves to be busier than ever.
After the general introduction of N.E.T. in around 2200, it had only taken twenty years for food to be forgotten—with the absence of cooking shows and body weight programs in the media, a huge gap was left in the collective consciousness.
Political leadership was virtually impossible to organize with such widespread use of telepathy. Individuals tried but just couldn’t build up any power or momentum. It was ironic that in a society where everybody had a “voice,” political action seemed impossible.
Capitalism, also, had run into several major problems: Napeans no longer needed basics like food or medicine; everything they wanted, they could get for free. Like a tired old hawker, capitalism depended on selling things that no one wanted.
Society had experienced the commodification of every action, activity, and object. All aspects of life from the bathroom to the bedroom had been a commercial opportunity, and eventually people just got sick of it. For a long time there had been the circular nature of the “demand” or “tolerance” for these items. But after about fifty rotations of the cycle in several hundred years, people became bored with the variations on the same tired old products. And as the product was inextricably linked to the process, capitalism fizzled, and when status became determined in other ways, the dollar lost its mojo. Money still existed, but was no longer the driving force it once was. It was a problem, because a common political solution had often been to “let the market decide.” Indeed, a great many socio-political decisions had been determined by this principle.
So Napeans existed in a little vacuum, not making any big decisions, their only obligation being to allow the nightly occupancy of their mental real estate while they waited for the discovery of a new and better world. And as rent they were all paid a small pension.
Napeans had a lot of spare time and had become the most pleasant, the most sociable, cosmopolitan, and chatty population to have ever graced the planet. Because of their homogeneity, their affectations and mannerisms grew to be accentuated.
Fashions and trends moved so quickly through the Napean world that groups of people could be following ideas completely at odds with those in another part of the planet. For example, after years of godlessness, the Los Angeles Napean population was going through a hyper religious phase. This was influencing clothing, music, and the massive telepathy industry. The entirety of their population was spending twelve hours a day in prayer and meditation, and some were promoting the salvation and inclusion of Subs in Napean affairs.
Beijing Napeans had all developed an obsession with the color white. Their cities were white, their clothes were white, and their bodies were white. To achieve this, the skin could either be bleach-dipped or tattooed using a process called Zumi-wash where the body was three-dimensionally scanned, punctured thousands of times, and then painted in a glossy white liquid, turning the skin to alabaster.
The same fashion trends applied to game groups to which Napeans could subscribe. They made contributions to a communal fund, for which they were provided with regular updates and the latest software. Anyone could contribute to the development of a game. Sometimes, it went the other way—simply by playing the game, a user could generate an idea and would automatically be remunerated for it.
The game designers became very good at targeting things that the Napeans couldn’t have. They dreamt of freedom, youth, children, and death. Playfulness was highly prized but an anathema to modern Napean life. Most people were old; they had no playfulness, but were extremely sentimental about a time when they had. Many spent hours each day walking around in pleasure centers, playing character games where they lived double, or triple or quadruple, lives as different, more innocent people.
Their games could be played any place—any time. All a person had to do was access the game area via “Iris Navigation,” a contact lens sitting permanently in the eye. It was one of numerous pieces of hardware carried around in the Napean body. The IN lens was a transparent screen, allowing simultaneous normal vision, on which a number of connection points could be accessed and connected remotely with a number of information systems, internally and externally. An arrow seen on the lens was controlled by moving the tongue across the roof of the mouth. Commands were activated by holding the arrow on a desired item. Someone could be looking at a map, reading, or writing while looking you in the eye and having a conversation. A little rude, maybe, but common enough. IN allowed Napeans to use the Service information system to access goods and, most importantly for the Napean government Service, connected people to the Telesync network—mandatory during sleep every night. The Napean body was a self-contained library, communication network, memory bank, and mobile health center. Napeans could request and access free health checks via IN. At any rate, bodily chemical analysis was completed by the Service on a nightly basis during Telesync.
A Napean could have one eye on reality while the other was elsewhere. Sitting on a train, walking down the street, or even during sex, a Napean could be in more than two places at once. In the virtual world, extreme activities such as kill sports, bondage, obliteration drugs, warfare, and anything involving high risk were more popular than ever and almost completely safe.
In his spare time, Shane was so far gone into the ETP game world of sex and the plethora of Memorex games available that he could hardly remember, from day to day, what was his latest novelty. A new pleasure in the game world, with someone you didn’t know, could keep him busy for weeks.
He took drugs, which were freely available—not physically, but the experience of them. You could take anything you wanted. Although they were side-effect free, it was easy to get “lost” in a morphine haze or disappear into an amphetamine high that could last for weeks. Shane’s preference was for the downer style, clean obliteration variety. It made him forget everything; the world retreated behind a giant luminescent sheet. No worry, anxiety, or pain. Although a prodigious sleepwalker in his younger days, as an adult Shane could never even remember his dreams. The drug gave that back to him. A wake-up call—a pre-programmed alarm—had to be built into the drug experience so one could emerge, hours later, feeling fine, if a little stiff.
Over the years Shane had known people over who had “left the building”– friends who said they were leaving work and then disappeared—forever. Eternity via obliteration was not illegal. In fact, the Service encouraged it. If you don’t like eternity here, go find your own, they seemed to say. Euthanasia was free and readily available on the first of every month and, not just as a last resort, but as a perfectly legitimate response to life.
Chapter 5
Motherhood Implant
NO LONGER WAS youth wasted on the young. People did not become grumpy with age. Now youth was exclusively in possession of the aged. They had been awarded a charmed existence; healthy and young, many of them loved to stand out from the crowd.
Because each Napean man looked like every other Napean man, and every woman like every other woman, they went to great lengths to distinguish themselves. Body augmentation was widely practiced through skin implants, tattooing, hair implants, scarring, plastic surgery, and pigmentation. And it was a strange phenomenon that, for example, at a party in a room full of Napeans (all genetically identical), each person knew who the other individuals were. To you and I, they all would have looked the same. But whether it was the voice, the demeanor, or “the look,” or a combination of all three Napeans never seemed to get one another confused.
Traditionally, human beauty had been about the most average. But when “average” was universally imposed, it wasn’t long before the definition became very broad. A host of physical alterations became popular. Finger rem
oval or extension was performed to provide sleekness or a look of grace. Acid tattoo dips made any part of the body whatever color one desired. Some Napeans ordered a hormone cocktail and grew opposite-sex organs. Ear removal was quite common and apparently had little effect on hearing. Beak-like nose augmentation was thought to be attractive. There was a style in itself known as angularisation. This could involve a suite of enhancements such as elbow and shoulder cap insertions, shin, foot, forearm, and finger elongation—they all served to make people look more spidery. It was beautiful, if that was your thing.
Napeans who wanted to make themselves look like animals was nothing new—lions and horses had always been very popular, but later ideas included insects—spider, praying mantis—and birds and reptiles.
On a social level, this physical sameness and their reliance on ETP led to a particular style of humor becoming widespread among Napeans. When a Napean was talking they tend to over exaggerate their facial expressions to compensate for the sameness and to break out of their anonymity. The ability to give or understand subtle facial expressions had become lost over time. Many jokes then revolved around saying something that was patently untrue and watching the other person struggle to establish the fact. Poker-face jokes.
Although a great many of the physiological problems associated with being human had been solved, evolutionary hangovers still persisted. For example, millions of years of evolution had ingrained a need in humans to reproduce, and with that came a whole array of behaviors such as nurturing. Evidence suggested that in the case of a female, motherhood was a one–off drive, meaning that it could be satisfied with a single experience of motherhood.
Hence the development of the motherhood memory implant. A series of highly detailed, individually tailored programs were given to the woman over a period of three weeks in which she grew to remember the birth and rearing of an infant.
