“So soon,” Al said, almost stunned. “They just finished the interviews two months ago.”
“They want to start training people, give them a chance to adjust to the idea, before they go.”
Al hesitated. He was almost afraid to go over to the computer link-up in the corner of the cafeteria and find out the decision. “You look happy,” he said to Dmitri, trying to gain a few seconds to think. “I don’t have to ask you…”
“Only because I am both a selenologist and an engineer, as well as being an experienced administrator,” the Russian replied, a smile spreading across his broad face. “If I had not dabbled in different fields, I doubt they would have considered my feeble mind.” Dmitri was being too modest. He had a dogged and persistent mind, combined with an attitude that one could master anything in time. He had done some first-rate work and was now “dabbling” in astrophysics, using some vacation time to come along for the seminars. A slow but deep thinker, Dmitri often caught things quicker minds overlooked.
“You’ll be on board eventually,” Al said confidently. “I’ll make you a bet.”
Dmitri responded by taking Al by the shoulders and gently propelling him toward the computer. “Go, my friend, and see if we may be shipmates.”
Al walked over to the computer and slowly began to punch out his number and private code. Don’t get upset, he told himself, trying to prepare for a possible disappointment. Even if you’re on this list, you’re still a long way from boarding. A red light on the small flat console began to flash. He spoke his name aloud, then made his request.
The computer console hummed for a fraction of a second as it noted his face, fingerprints, and voice pattern, a precaution in case anyone not authorized by him was retrieving the information. Privacy violations were severely punished in theory, often by depriving the offender of access to computers for an extended period except for necessary transactions. Such a law had been the only way people in much of the world could accept the accumulation of vast amounts of data about themselves. In fact, it was often difficult to catch some of the cleverest violators unless one was willing to spend days poring over computer records or hired a service to do it, an expensive proposition. The smartest criminals, with the aid of accomplices inside police offices or other agencies authorized to get certain information, could gain access. Even if a violator was caught, the case could be tied up in the courts for months.
The screen in front of him lit up as words began to appear, one letter after another. He took a deep breath.
SWENSON, ALBERT.
ACCEPTED FOR PRELIMINARY LIST
PROJECT STAR FLIGHT
He sighed. Only one more hurdle to go. They have to take me, they can’t let me come this far without taking me. He almost laughed. Sure they could. The entire procedure of selecting the interstellar travelers, with its forms, delays, interviews, invasions of privacy, and committee members who had occasionally popped up unexpectedly to talk informally with applicants, might itself be a test.
He turned and waved at Dmitri, smiling as he did so. “Come to my room later,” the Russian shouted to him. “Rita Morales and I will be having a party then for the elect.”
Al nodded as Dmitri left the cafeteria. He had a feeling that the seminar scheduled for that evening would be held in a distracting atmosphere. Hopefully, those who had been chosen and those who had been rejected would settle down enough so that the meetings would not be a total waste of time.
He hesitated in front of the computer console for a moment. What about Simone? He had to find out.
Simone had given him her code and had authorized him to use it. He had reciprocated. He had never used hers and knew she had never requested information about him. Exchanging codes had become the true test of love and friendship for many people. If hard feelings developed, it was easy to withdraw such authorization simply by notifying the computer or, in a few cases, changing one’s code as well.
Al had never given his code to anyone but his family and Simone, although he knew people who trusted a fair number of friends with theirs. The Chinese, of course, often took pride in giving theirs to almost everyone, at least on the moon. They had nothing to hide, it seemed, at least from their own people, and would have been under great suspicion if they did not make their codes readily available, particularly to eminent officials. The Russians were discouraged from giving theirs to anyone who was not Russian; Americans, as in everything else, varied in their attitudes. The Japanese were somewhat more circumspect. One couple on Luna, the Fukudas, both medical technicians, had been married for fifteen years and had never exchanged codes.
He punched out Simone’s code, then identified himself and made his request. She would not mind this time, not on something as important as this. He had a feeling that, if she knew about the list, she had already found out his own status.
The computer hummed. He tried to prepare himself for either possible answer but he could not keep from hoping. His stomach knotted. Letters appeared on the screen. He scanned them quickly, completely unprepared and bewildered by what he saw.
TRAN, SIMONE. COMMITTEE UNDECIDED.
CASE TO BE APPEALED.
FINAL DISPOSITION WITHIN ONE MONTH.
PROJECT STAR FLIGHT.
“Precisely because the existence of identical twins breaks and seems to challenge the great law of the biological uniqueness of the person, it accentuates that uniqueness and calls attention to it.”
—Jean Rostand
HUMANLY POSSIBLE
“…it is clear that genetic engineering will produce radical alterations in a very few centuries at most. Changes will not be gradual, but explosive; we are on the verge of a sharp discontinuity in history.”
—R. C. W. Ettinger
MAN INTO SUPERMAN
“Nature which governs the whole will soon change all things which thou seest, and out of their substance will make other things, and again other things from the substance of them, in order that the world may be ever new…”
—Marcus Aurelius
MEDITATIONS
“I shall endeavor to drive from him the swarming and fierce things, those
flies, which feed upon the bodies of men who have perished; and although he lie here until a year has gone to fulfillment, still his body shall be as it was, or firmer than ever.”
—Homer
THE ILIAD
7
Interface: 2037
HIS sister’s call had brought Ed Swenson to the moon. He had sensed an undertone of urgency in her voice, an urgency that seemed somehow out of place with her stated reason for wanting him there. A family reunion, nothing more. She was working on a project, Al was there, Mike said he would come. Why didn’t he and Sheila join them?
Ed had been hesitant at first, but he was on his sabbatical and could do worse than spending time with the mathematicians on Luna while he visited. The M.I.T. orchestra would have to do without his violin and Sheila’s clarinet for a while. Sheila, a researcher in cybernetics, was overdue for a vacation anyway and could come with him.
There had been one small problem; his son Isaac. Ed had assumed they would leave the boy on Earth, but that had prompted a brief argument with Sheila. She had wanted Isaac to come with them.
Ed certainly could not blame her for that. Sheila, he knew, had always been closer to their son than he had. She, in fact, had been the one who decided to bear a child. But he must have wanted the boy too or he would never have cooperated with her and would not have married her after Isaac’s birth.
He had been the typical expectant father and had not minded the role at all. He helped Sheila with her exercises during her pregnancy and accompanied her to the geneticist, who had assured them the child would be healthy. He aided the paramedic and nurse during the delivery, rubbing Sheila’s back, encouraging her, almost sensing her pain himself. He remembered his first sight of his son; the head emerging from Sheila’s body, the tiny infant covered with membrane, the first cry. He felt only relief and
exhaustion at first until Isaac, washed and weighed, was placed in his arms. As he handed the baby to Sheila, he was suddenly astonished: our child. Such things happened all the time but it seemed a miracle to him then.
He grew to love the boy and enjoyed watching him grow, learn, and change. But he often felt awkward around Isaac, uncertain about how to treat him or talk to him. Isaac also seemed restrained; he had become a contented but serious child. He displayed an early love of music, not surprising in a child growing up in a musical family. At the age of four, he was already taking music lessons and learning to play his own tiny violin. But music was not a hobby or casual interest for Isaac, who practiced almost incessantly in his spare time. At six, he had decided to live with his teacher and other music students for four days a week. Although he came home every weekend and often for an hour or so after school, his decision had upset Sheila. Ed knew she had never fully reconciled herself to it.
Ed had at last agreed that Isaac should come with them to Luna, persuaded by the fact that the boy himself wanted to go. Isaac could do his schoolwork with the computers there as well as on Earth and would get a chance to meet different children. Sheila could spend more time with him. And I, Ed thought, can try to get over my awkwardness around my own son.
When they first entered their lunar hotel room, Isaac had been fascinated, exploring every corner. He now sat quietly in a chair while Sheila and Ed unpacked the few things they had brought. It was expensive to bring too much. Isaac had brought only his violin and some clothing.
The boy was watching Ed solemnly with his green eyes. Already, he looked remarkably like his father. Not surprising, Ed thought, smiling at Sheila as she put away some clothes. Sheila also looked like Ed, with almost the same green eyes, complexion, and facial features. Her short hair was brown as well, but with more reddish and gold highlights, which she had passed on to her son.
Ed sometimes wondered about her resemblance to him, or, more accurately, to his sister Kira, but he never speculated about it for long. It hardly mattered. He had, however, been startled by it when he first met Sheila Sonnefeld. A friend, Eric Bartlett, had introduced them at an orchestra rehearsal. “Meet the other Swenson clone,” Eric had said jokingly and except for her medium height, Sheila might almost have been one. He had loved her almost on sight, but because of the liveliness he had seen in her face, he was sure, not its resemblance to his own.
Temperamentally she was unlike him, more impulsive, more involved with other people. She had helped him conquer some of his shyness and brought some life into his quiet world. At times he wished their son was more like her.
He glanced at Isaac while putting away some underwear. “Maybe tomorrow you can go flying,” he said to the boy. “You can go over to the recreation center and get some wings to try out. That’s one of the advantages of lunar gravity, being able to fly around.” Ed paused, feeling as though he was patronizing the child. “Or you can go outside if you want, see the surface with a guide.” He closed the drawer in front of him and looked around their quarters. There was not an abundance of room, only two small sets of drawers set into the wall and one tiny closet. A computer console stood in the corner; Ed had insisted on a room with one. There was a round plastic table and some chairs, and the beds were pulled out from the walls. The bathroom, used by all the people in the six rooms nearest theirs, was down the hall with regulations concerning water use posted on the door in various languages. Each person had a certain allotment free, included in the room charge; a computer in the bathroom recorded every one’s fingerprints each time he entered the shower. Using more water was expensive. There was a small room next to the bathroom where children of guests could sleep; Isaac, if he wanted to, would probably sleep there when he made friends.
“Will you come with me, Ed?” Isaac asked quietly.
“Of course I will, at least if you want me to.”
“I wish you would.”
Ed, feeling relieved, smiled. “Then I will.”
“Let’s go flying now.”
Ed sighed. “You’d better ask your mother about that.”
“I didn’t ask Sheila, I asked you.”
“I think,” Ed said after a pause, “that you’re probably tired after your trip and you’ll be even more tired after we have supper with your aunt and uncle tonight. You should probably take a nap.”
“Sheila!” the boy said in hurt tones.
“Ed’s right,” she responded. “You sound like you’re getting cranky.”
“But I don’t feel tired.”
“I do,” Sheila said. “I’m going to take a nap myself. If you’re not tired, you can sit at the console and do some lessons.”
“I’ll take the nap,” Isaac muttered, climbing into one of the beds.
“Well go flying tomorrow, I promise,” Ed said to his son. He was rewarded with a smile.
As the passenger ship, approached the moon, Mike Swenson watched the face of Lilo Helziger. Lilo was copper and gold, her red hair twisted tightly on her head, her golden skin gleaming. It had taken her a lot of time and patience to get that skin; hours of timing her exposure to the California sunshine, trying to tread the thin line between paleness and leathery overexposure. She had succeeded, and Mike found himself hoping that the sunlamps used on Luna would enable her to keep her skin tone. Otherwise, he was sure she would leave quickly and head back home to restore it.
Mike looked away from her and watched the screen at the front of the vehicle. Cameras recorded the approach of the ship for the benefit of the passengers. He saw the moon growing larger; they would be landing in an hour. It was an awesome sight with its craggy mountains, deep craters, and black shadows.
He knew better than to awaken Lilo for this vision. She had quickly grown bored with the trip, although she had found the space station where they had stopped for a while amusing. She would probably find the moon equally amusing; for how long, he was not sure.
Lilo murmured something in her sleep, twisting her slender body slightly. She was a striking sight in her glittery blue and silver outfit, modeled on the tight overalls worn by space workers. Mike could see some of the other passengers sneaking glances at her. Even now, he found it hard to believe that they were married, had been married for almost two months.
Lilo Helziger had been trained to do absolutely nothing. Her parents, confronted by strict and confiscatory inheritance laws, had nevertheless managed to find a few loopholes giving their daughter part of their considerable wealth. Lilo was not wealthy; it was almost impossible for anyone to be that. But she was comfortably well off and was taking full advantage of the fact that she would never have to work again. She had been an actress for a while, acquiring more publicity than roles, before getting tired of the discipline. Her education, what little there was of it, consisted of short terms at various schools in which she had learned the art of faking her way through conversations on almost any topic. She was presently trying to remedy that lack of knowledge using their home computer. But he did not take these efforts very seriously.
He had met her a year ago, right after she quit her acting career. He had been a novelty, he knew, a physicist, prime developer of the experimental matter replicator which, when perfected, would change the world, making her own world of wealth and privilege, what little there was left of it, obsolete. He was one of the Swenson clones besides. There were still some news-fax people who did stories on the Swensons now and then, and a particularly embarrassing one had appeared on their thirtieth birthday lauding their various intellectual achievements. Lilo, Mike knew, had read that article when she was a girl, and it had made quite an impression. In marrying him, she had consummated a childhood infatuation. It was what he was, rather than the person he was underneath, that held her.
It had been her idea to get married, but he had gone along with it. They had done it quietly, although Lilo made sure that the event received maximum publicity afterward. Ed had been polite in his congratulations. Kira and Al, calling from the moon,
had been horrified and did a bad job of hiding it. Jim, of course, had not been heard from.
Why had he married her? Her sexual attraction for him had been strong and still was. She was young, not even twenty, and her youthfulness had attracted him as well. Oddly enough, he considered it a good match. Lilo did not bother him when he was working or reading, being absorbed in herself anyway, and he had to admit that being her husband gave him a peculiar sort of status. Their marriage, apart from bed, was more appearance than anything else, role-playing, but it was pleasant enough.
In a rational mood, he could plot its course. Lilo would enjoy the present state of affairs for a time, she liked charming his friends and colleagues and pretending an interest in their work. She was inventive sexually and helped him relax when he was tired. She had even taken a job at his research facility’s child care center, surprising everyone when she was put in charge of its recreational activities. But eventually she would get tired of that. She might want to travel more, have a child, or do any number of foolish things. She would become bored and leave him.
That was how it would go, but he was enjoying it now and by the time she was bored, he would be too. Lilo was not, apart from her public image and her beauty, a very interesting person. And it was, he thought darkly, a change from Sita.
He felt himself growing disturbed just thinking about his first wife. He would never become that involved with another person again, mired down in a constant struggle, needing to compromise, work things out, talk them over. And where had he gotten with all of it? Sita had just gone back to India in the end, leaving him depressed and unable to do his best work for months. Sometimes, when he was tired, Mike found himself almost wishing that Sita was with him, wanting to discuss something with her, try out some ideas. Those had been the best times for them. Lilo was not much good at kicking ideas around, but she went her way and let him go his.
Cloned Lives Page 28
