Acknowledgements
FOR MY MOTHER WHO, above all others, has been my best friend, my closest confidant, and my biggest supporter in all I do. I love her more than anyone in the world.
To The Publishing Circle and Quid Mirum staff, who have enabled me to bring my creative outlet to print and who continue to help me on my long journey as I improve my ability to tell the story I have in my head.
I also wish to acknowledge how lucky I am to have the friends and family, the environment I need in order to be in a position to pursue artistic endeavors. I work toward supporting the art community as much as I’m able to be worthy of their kindness and support.
Prologue
DESPITE AN ALARMING FLOOD of information coming from within the Sector he guarded, Seven swept an impassive gaze out over the city, his green eyes reflecting the magnificent and sprawling mass of buildings and lush vegetation. He acknowledged the data but did not act. Could not act. A Tech only interfered if the threat became too overwhelming to ignore.
In the rain, the city glistened as Seven gazed down from atop his cliff-side perch, admiring the beauty in his dispassionate way. Tall, sculpted spires of transparent steel cast out colored patterns in the faint light of the overcast sky. Large, ornate domes rose amidst the forest like gemstones in a sea of green. Seven watched various species of birds fly from canopy to canopy, deftly avoiding the flying vehicles, the floating barges, antigravity buildings, and the elevated passenger trains. Insects of all kinds busily harvested from flowers, cut away leaves, and churned the soil. The breathtaking city of advanced technology had found a way to blend itself with nature, adding to, rather than cannibalizing, the landscape.
As a species, humans now covered the whole of the earth and had unified under a single governing council as they explored the stars. Instead of countries, the world had been divided into nine Sectors to be watched over and ruled by a single council of thirteen. The Sectors, which divided up the continents, spanned vast geographical regions and were guided and protected by the nine Sector Techs—Techs like Seven.
Seven stared into the distance as the rain fell around him. Millions of details flooded through him, through the part of his technologically augmented mind he had set aside to process and control everything around him. With a thought, he sped up an ever-so-slightly off-schedule passenger train, adjusted the pressure of a chemical mixture in a faraway factory, and changed the light patterns of a congested airway to maximize traffic flow. In less than a millisecond and with such a small amount of mental power as to be negligible, he made these and billions of other decisions. In the time it took him to blink the airflow changed within several buildings, changes were made to vent heat into energy recapturing facilities, and adjustments were made to medical supply deliveries so they would arrive where most needed. Another blink and robots were dispatched to handle a breakdown in moving walkways; power rerouted around a transformer outage so lights simply flickered instead of going out.
With each throb of the vein in his neck, each blink of his eyes, a thousand commands were issued and obeyed, all instantly, all without question. His face remained expressionless as he watched the city below him.
Rain soaked his short dark hair, droplets running down the smooth skin of his face and falling from his jaw. From atop the building on which he stood, Seven could make out miles of the city through the fog and clouds. But he had no need for such a mundane form of sensory input. They entire Sector communicated its every detail back to him at every moment of every day. His mind diffused itself throughout all the processors in the Sector.
Merged with advanced nanotechnology, Seven’s mind had blended with the city and the city had become part of him. Effectively a humanoid AI, Seven’s technological enhancements augmented his ability to interface. Nanobots, robots the size of molecules, had become part of nearly every life form, embedded in every synthetic material. And they all reported back to him, obeyed any command he issued. Technology had interlaced the world around humanity with a means of controlling it. Often, these tiny machines contained the necessary data and instructions to impart information without the need for centralized storage.
In a way, the city owned him and Seven felt the constraints of this possession. While his thoughts controlled the workings of even the smallest of organisms, Seven had only passive control. Seven made the workings of humanity smooth and unnoticed by the population. He remained invisible, unseen. Under the strongest of edicts, he could not interfere in the lives of those around him, short of protecting them.
His narrowly defined role allowed scarce execution of free will. Not that he’d care to interfere, as the daily concerns plaguing the lives of the general public no longer existed for him. His role of servitude and his integration had him so immersed in the life of the Sector, he viewed his body as a mere mechanism for processing this control. He thought of his limbs as tools, much like his senses.
Most children raised to be Techs became hopelessly insane or lost all sense of themselves when integrated with the vast technology of a Sector, their minds becoming scattered like grains of sand in a windstorm. Low survival rates of potentials meant only nine Techs currently carried out the wishes of the Council and protected the Sectors. If more Sector Techs could be found, the Council could expand and the Sectors be paired down in size. As it was, the Sectors were too large, too unwieldy.
There were several promising replacements among the genetically modified and technologically enhanced children being tested and the Council hoped they could bring several more online. The outer colonies lacked a Tech, and their systems were painfully prone to issues because of this lack.
His chest rose and fell; blood flowed through his arteries. Seven’s awareness of his entire physiology lent him near perfect control—a peripheral awareness, intentionally controlled just as he controlled all else around him. Automated processes kept his musculature at optimal levels, kept his skin smooth and free of damage. Like all humans, Seven’s susceptibility to harm and age remained after his augmentation, but his supreme health, derived from his relative youth as well as his precise control over his own body, lent him an advantage. His lifespan would be longer, his aging slowed dramatically, his usefulness extended.
People dined, drank, and made love while he stood in the rain high above the nearest city, staring out toward the dimming horizon as the sun set. He would continue to exist until his ability to function in this role became no longer possible, then he would be replaced. Children born with Tech abilities were so incredibly rare, Seven might serve this Sector for a century. Longer, if his mind and body held up with assistance from augmentation and a proper replacement could not be found. Currently, the probability of finding a replacement remained low. Even if they found one or more potential replacements, the child would then need to be capable of receiving the necessary implants, the proper technological augmentation, and would need to remain sane when fully integrated.
Seven watched the world below him move with clockwork precision, subject to his will. For a moment, the merest fraction of a second, he felt a pang of longing. Sadness? Loneliness? He did not know. Emotions were one thing he had no control over and no real understandable connection to, something with which he had no experience. They had no place in his assigned existence.
His jaw tightened slightly, and his eyes softened with an echo of an unknown pain. But only for one moment, then he became devoid of expression once again.
Seemingly uncorrelated data flared in his mind like a dire warning, seizing his attention firmly. The information he’d been ignoring became relevant, disturbing, as his incredible mind unraveled hidden patterns. A series of events and the related data posed a dire threat to his Sector, to the Council itself, which entrusted Seven to protect them. He fe
lt the familiar touch on his mind of other Techs as they, too, saw the dangers. An uncharacteristic uncertainty echoed through the Techs.
Seven’s eyes suddenly became focused, troubled. With the smallest of frowns, he turned his head to gaze westward.
One
DOCTOR CARLISLE FAUST WATCHED from the observation room as his test subject, Hans Amir, struggled against his bonds, arm muscles tensing until the veins rose in corded ribbons.
Amir raised his head from the table, straining his neck to look at the door, and shouted in a hoarse voice, “Hey!” He cocked his head to listen for a response.
Faust ignored him, waiting for his three colleagues to arrive.
“Hello! Is someone out there?”
Faust nodded to each of the doctors as they entered the observation room, chatting amongst themselves and mostly ignoring Faust other than to return his nod. He’d become accustomed to their lack of engagement. As soon as everyone had arrived, he said, “We have a lot of work ahead of us, but our tests have yielded some incredible results. As you can see, the subject is almost entirely transformed.” Faust enjoyed the surprised reactions to seeing their handiwork. “You’d hardly know Amir came to us only weeks ago.”
“Let me out of here! You can’t do this!” Amir thrashed violently against his bonds, actually moving the heavy table on which he lay. His hospital gown bunched up to his knees as his legs kicked against their straps. He struggled until his breathing became strained from futile attempts to escape. Sweat spun off his dark hair. Finally, with a snarl, he slammed his head back onto the pad of the table. He growled, flexing his massive chest and arms one last time, then lay at rest, breathing heavily.
“Shall we?” said Falk. “I’d say ladies first, but our subject appears a bit distraught. Perhaps it is best if we enter together.”
The doctors nodded nervously and made small noises of agreement as the door slid open.
Faust led them as they shuffled forward, quiet now, with only the sound of their white lab coats rustling as they moved. Three robots attended them, two of which carried an array of lab equipment, while the other wheeled in a stainless-steel table.
Amir raised his head and shouted, “Finally! Let me out of here! You can’t just keep me in here. Are you insane? If the authorities find out about this, you are all going to lose your medical licenses.”
As he yelled, the robots set up gear around his table.
“Are you listening? I’m going to have your fucking licenses. Let me go!” He started struggling again.
Faust forced himself to remain calm, inwardly annoyed at the shouting. With the slowness of age, he moved toward the head of the table.
“Mr. Amir?”
“Yeah, asshole. Suddenly you can hear me? Get me off this fucking table.”
“Now, now. Can you please calm down for a moment? Yes? Good. My name is Doctor Faust and I’m here to finish up the experiments. Some of the experiments have resulted in memory loss, so you will see us as if for the first time. But I assure you, we have been working closely with you for weeks.”
“Experiments?” Amir said blankly. “I don’t want to finish anything. I’m done with this whole thing, you slimy bastard. You can’t strap me to a fucking table and leave me alone. Take this shit off!”
Faust was losing patience, taxing his ability to keep his facial expressions neutral. “Please try to control your language. I can see you are agitated, so you don’t have to shout. You are probably having a reaction to the hormones. You’ve grown quite wild in the last few weeks.”
Amir laughed a rough, guttural laugh. “Wild? I’m fucking livid! You’ve got me tied to a table and stuffed in a room by myself and I have to piss so bad my eyes are swimming. How about shutting your stupid hole and getting me out of here?” When he got no response, he added, “You’re already in big trouble. I’m going to sue you right after I punch you in your stupid smug face.”
Faust had grown tired of feigning patience. “Mr. Amir, please listen to me. Surely you must be able to tell that you are experiencing a heightened sense of rage. Your testosterone levels are extremely elevated. You would not normally be this upset, and we have restrained you because you are potentially dangerous. We aren’t sure you wouldn’t harm one of us. We have to try to lower your hormone levels.”
“Lower them? Why are they so high in the first place, huh? What the hell did you do to me?” Amir strained against the bonds again, muscles bulging. “What’s going on? I volunteered for a simple sleep deprivation experiment, not some goddamn Frankenstein show. Now I find myself losing parts of my memory and wake up on a goddamn table ready to piss myself! How long have I been in here?”
“Mr. Amir, you really must try to control yourself. We haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Faust didn’t bother to suppress his expression of amusement. “We have been testing several experimental drugs in the last few weeks. Other than your high hormone levels, we’re quite delighted with the results.”
Amir gaped at him for a moment. “What the fuck are you talking about? I have to pee, so unless you plan on one of your assistants whipping out my dick so I can take a leak, how about if you get me off this table and we can talk about this bullshit later? Like across the table from the police.”
“You really must stop swearing, Mr. Amir. It’s becoming tiresome. Unless you cooperate, I have no intention of letting you off the table in your current condition. If you persist, I suppose we could catheter you again.” Behind Amir the robots were nearly finished setting up the various trays and analysis tools.
With an effort, Amir visibly relaxed, letting some of the tension out of his body.
“Much better. Yes, excellent.”
Amir glared beneath his lowered brows. “Okay, see? I’m calm. Now, I seriously have to pee.”
Faust motioned, and two of the robots moved to the side of the table, deftly untying Amir’s bonds, but holding his arms.
“These attendants will take you to the restroom where you may relieve yourself. They will also restrain you while you are near us. For our protection, you understand.”
Amir looked ready to commit murder, but he let himself be guided off the table and led into the restroom. As he entered, the other doctors moved over to Faust. They watched as the restroom illuminated, revealing Amir behind the one-way mirror.
“Remarkable,” said Doctor Elizabeth Anderson.
“And in so short a time,” said Doctor Claire Ashcraft.
As soon as the robots released Amir, he tore off his hospital gown, trying to throw the garment over one of the robots to blind and then try and disable it. The robot deftly pulled the robe out of his hands while the other robot pinned him against the wall. Amir nearly overpowered the robot, pulling it off its mechanical feet, but the robot changed tactics and pinned Amir’s arm behind his back, forcing him face-first against the wall.
Realizing the futility of his actions, Amir stopped resisting and waited. Finally, in response to its programming, the robot released him, and both robots stood back. With a glare, Amir moved over to the toilet to relieve himself. Before he got there, he looked down at his arms. He seemed entranced. He stepped closer to the mirrors, looking himself over, a position which had him facing the on-looking physicians. He seemed genuinely stunned. “What the hell? Oh my god! This is crazy!” He touched the glass where the reflection of his face stared back at him.
Dr. Claire Ashcraft stared admiringly and unashamedly at Amir’s naked form. “He’s certainly well developed, Elizabeth. You did a nice job on his cosmetic genetic alterations.”
Dr. Elizabeth Anderson wore a proud expression, clearly delighted at her accomplishment.
Faust detected a hint of lust in Elizabeth’s eyes. Entirely unprofessional, he thought.
Elizabeth gestured to the one-way mirror. “Thank you, Claire. I got a bit carried away with some of his anatomy, as you can see. Specifically, the male organs. I wasn’t sure just what details we could alter with the nannies and the chemical changes
we imposed.” She laughed. “I know quite a few men who would pay handsomely for this particular alteration.”
Claire chuckled. “Yes, and we’ll charge a premium for that enhancement, of course.” The other doctors laughed along with her.
Amir finally noticed his overgrown male anatomy and stared at its mass. He grabbed himself, hefting the enlarged organ to get a good look.
Faust ignored his personal disgust with clinical detachment. “What about his internal organs? Do we have the lab analysis yet?”
Doctor Earl Reprate cleared his throat and Faust hid his disdain for his dyspeptic-looking colleague.
“Yes,” Reprate said in his high-pitched voice, grating on Faust’s nerves. “Astonishing, really. The results are better than we hoped for.” He fidgeted slightly, averting his eyes from Amir, who continued to admire himself. Reprate cleared his throat. “He’s in perfect condition. All of the major organs are extremely healthy, and his brain tissue is reproducing cells at a high rate. He could sustain a large amount of damage in a short period of time and survive unscathed. The improved nanobots are capable of considerable repair. Even his scar tissue could be eliminated if we provide the right instructions. The technology, however, is at its current limit. It will take time to make the necessary adjustments for an individual to have conscious control. Right now, everything is operating with simple reparative instructions from the nanobots. His own body is providing instructions that are . . . problematic. We need to figure out how to prevent the host from unconsciously making changes now that the nannies are transmitting complete data that he doesn’t consciously know how to handle. Uncontrolled thoughts can result in the nannies interpreting them as instructions. He might end up with a tail or dream about being a lobster and wake up with claws. Amir currently has no control over what his own body will do with his thoughts or emotions.”
Reprate ran his hand down the front of his white doctor’s smock and Faust could see the small man nearly puff up with pride as he continued.
Sector Seven Page 1
