“I don’t know. I know Director Faust is among them. Oh, Monica. Susan is dead.”
“Who?” Her eyebrows narrowed in confusion. “The woman you worked with?”
“Yes. She talked about objecting to this change to the Council and suddenly she is in an accident. Dr. Faust just left here. He might as well have said I’d be following her if I showed the slightest agreement with her thinking. He was fishing for information. I was going to shower and didn’t have my bio-suit on, which is the only thing that kept him from reading my emotions like an open book.” He shuddered. “He had the audacity to imply I might join him in his play for power by accepting a new research position. As if all this new money would overcome my horror.”
Monica sat back in her chair, eyes wide. For a moment, she simply bit her lip again. Then, sweeping back her hair, she got out of the chair and put it back on the rug in the living room. She turned back and grabbed him by the hands, yanking him to his feet. “Get in the shower. Get cleaned up and dressed. Now. We have to go.”
“Now? What? No! I’m too upset. I need to lie down.” He slumped back against the wall, intending to sit back down. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Her voice became iron and she reached out and prevented him from crumpling onto the floor. “No. You aren’t. Not now. Get ready to go out immediately.” Then, in a more conciliatory tone, she said, “You should be understandably upset about Susan, but you’ve got to come to the movie with me. You’ve got to show your new position and the money you’ll receive are enough to push your suspicions aside. He’s not stupid. He’s going to know you suspect something and he’s looking for a reaction. If you go out with me, it shows you don’t care enough to raise a fuss. You will hint, eagerly, at a new position. Make it convincing, Jason. Talk around it like you really want to tell me, but don’t give away any secrets. Don’t mention Susan at all. Not talking about her will seem slightly suspicious, but it is better than you breaking down.”
He stared at her, feeling numb.
“Go! Get your ass in gear.” She pushed him into the bathroom and pulled off his towel. He dutifully started the water again and got into the shower.
Through the open door, he heard Monica moving around the living room and then the clinking of dishes put on the counter where the cleaning robots could come remove the stacks and deal with cleaning them. He kept his shower brief, opting to rinse more than anything.
Jason finished and went to his room to put on clothes. When he emerged, still toweling his hair dry, Monica was standing in the middle of the living room near the low table, clutching the papers Faust had brought over and left for him. Her eyes darted rapidly across the pages and Jason saw her face grow increasingly alarmed.
“Monica? What’s wrong?”
“How long have you been working on this?”
Confused, Jason said, “What? I haven’t yet. The packet is what the Director left with me as a pretense for coming over.”
She lifted her eyes from the paper and looked at him with what appeared to be an accusatory glare. It caught him off guard. “Have you read any of this?”
“No, I just pretended to look at the papers when Faust handed them to me. Why?”
“This is a nightmare! It keeps getting worse.” She strode around the table and the couch, handing him the synopsis.
Jason started reading.
“They want you to figure out how to overcome the hormonal side-effects of permanent longevity.”
He started to shake. The synopsis was more detailed, but it essentially said the same thing.
“The side effects. Jason, they have figured out how to stop aging. They need you to fix things so they can live forever. According to what’s in this document, they plan on only giving this treatment to the highest officials. The Council. They are going to elevate themselves to a permanent imperial position and retain their positions until they die. Which may be never, if this research is true. They’ll give the anti-aging drug to their supporters. If anyone doesn’t agree, this paperwork implies how the changes can be reversed. So, you get the treatment if you go along with them, and have it taken away if you go against their will.”
Reflexively, Jason said, “Reverse it? Aren’t you reaching a bit here? They can’t possibly have been dumb enough to give their secrets away in those papers.”
“I’m going to hit you.”
He took a deep breath after staring at her for a moment. “Okay, maybe I should start paying more attention. Your intuition is probably right.”
He got dressed quickly, taking only a moment to steel his emotions, affecting his professional calm.
They linked arms and began talking about what movie to see before they left, getting into the conversation. It took a while, due to the sheer amount of emotions and anxiety, but eventually they walked out, chatting and laughing. Their actions were a bit forced, but it was the best they could do. Jason kept dropping hints about his research position, but gave no details, only conveyed his excitement.
On their way out of the building, they ran into a woman everyone referred to as “Mom”, an older woman who lived in the same building and who seemed compelled to treat everyone around her as if they were her children. Mom often hung out on the walkways near the building, talking to everyone, handing out motherly advice. She would fondly reach up to brush hair out of eyes, comment on her “children” needing more sleep, and a slew of other matronly comments.
Mom was tending the small garden in the front of the building. Mom refused a bio-suit, claiming technology progressed too quickly without proper vetting and that the suits frightened her. Instead she wore a simple sundress with her hair pulled back in a bun. For some reason, the sight of Mom made Jason smile a genuine smile.
For a while, he had thought Mom psychologically unbalanced and perhaps in need of a mental evaluation. Possibly, she suffered from dementia, he thought. He’d even gone so far as to ask other residents to help him commit her, have her treated. He’d been met with stony opposition and a few veiled threats, which surprised him.
After a while, he discovered Mom really didn’t believe any of the people she tended to were, in fact, her biological children. She wasn’t confused or forgetful. She had simply assumed the role of a mother figure and it suited her well. She constantly worried over her neighbors, noticing small things about the stresses in their lives. Mom would appear with cookies, a hug, or just to engage in conversation. She watched her adopted brood all the time, making comments about behavior and generally encouraging her “children” to act responsibly. Mom defused a lot of tense situations, sometimes simply by showing disappointment when someone began to act rude or began posturing. Occasionally, seemingly without concern for her own physical well-being, she would stride into the middle of an altercation and take both people by an ear. Anyone who got angry or objected to this chastisement quickly became overwhelmed with people who backed her up. You might get out from under a painful ear gouging, but you could not escape her influence.
Mom smiled as they walked out of the building, waving. But her wave stopped short and a frown marred her pretty face. Dropping her gardening gloves, she walked over to them.
Her brows knitted. She assessed them with her light blue eyes. A sad expression clouded her face and she touched Jason on the temple lightly and squeezed Monica’s shoulder. “Things will be all right. Mom’s here and she’ll watch over you. Don’t worry too much.”
Jason stammered and laughed hollowly. “Everything’s fine, Mom. Really.” Suddenly he felt paranoid about being too transparent. If Mom kept talking and this conversation picked up momentum, his carefully crafted façade would crumble. This, combined with his worry over the fact she could read them both like an open book, made him in a hurry to get away. He prided himself on empathic and intuitive assessment of others, but Mom seemed to possess an unearthly ability to see a bit too clearly.
She gazed at him a moment, then smiled. “Don’t lie to me, honey. I’m likely to turn you over my k
nee right here and spank you. We both know I’ll have all the help I need.” She flicked his ear and then laughed, her voice calm and kindly despite her threats. “I hope you have a nice time tonight.” She patted his face. “It really will be okay, dear. Things will turn out for the best.”
He smiled back at her and nodded, opting to keep quiet. But he did feel better, and she seemed to sense the improvement in his mood. She turned and walked back to her gardening spot and picked up her gloves, her disheveled bun bobbing on top of her head as she got back to work.
Five
JASON ENJOYED THE MOVIE, despite his insistence all movies were the same old plot, churned over and over by the industry. Grateful for Monica’s insistence they go out, he thanked her and conceded he had been wrong. The enforced gaiety of the evening translated to lightening his dark mood and, by the time he came home, he felt as if he could go to work and hide his real emotions.
They made plans to see each other the next day under the pretense of drinks at her place. He emphasized their plans should be flexible since he wasn’t sure what time commitment his new work would require, once again alluding to the new position without giving anything away. Monica pretended to be exasperated with him.
She assumed a captivated expression and said, “Oh wow. Your completely vague promotion sounds vaguely special. Or not? I can’t tell. I wish you all the . . . what’s the word? Luck? No . . . what I meant is, ‘you’re a schmuck.’” She sniffed loudly and lifted her nose in the air. “Besides, I don’t really care. You keep your little secrets.”
When he got home, he breathed a sigh of relief and sank down onto the couch to review the documents he’d been provided.
As he pored over things, he began to realize the work involved addressed a lot more than just longevity.
The papers before him painted a picture of physical modification, restorative powers that defied everything but death, and enhancement possibilities that would vault the current biology of mankind toward something nearly superhuman. The progression of man’s increasing love affair with technology would transcend evolution. Especially on the nano scale.
Jason felt a chill. The elite would suppress the masses. Up until now, only the Techs could endure advanced body modifications and nannies altering their systems, and even then, almost every single Tech had died or lost their mind. Those few who survived were not autonomous, but instead enacted complex instructions handed to them. Their modifications were made over time, and externally controlled. What was being planned would give immediate control of the entire process to the individual, with no restraints, creating the kind of superhuman who could manipulate everything around them.
Realizing the time, he brushed his teeth, a quaint and archaic practice which had been replaced by a fluid that contained minerals necessary for tooth repair and provided his nannies with an electrically charged medium to scrub his mouth clean. The act of using the product triggered the operation, which would interfere with taste and the first phase of digestion for thirty minutes after rinsing with it. He enjoyed the sensation of brushing, however, along with the clean flavor of the paste. You can’t control me in every way, he thought, almost angrily scrubbing his teeth as he stared at himself in the mirror.
• • •
The next day, as the reflectors pivoted to catch the daylight and shine it into his room at the prescribed time, he woke. His windows, which had slid open slightly to let in fresh air and a light breeze along with soothing sounds of nighttime insects, were slowly closing. The curtains near his bed billowed pleasantly before they came to rest.
An attendant robot had set out his biosuit, freshly cleaned and ready for him, and the same robot began removing his bedding for its daily sterilization.
Jason performed his morning workout, which had become habitual and kept him in great shape. Then, he showered, taking time to relieve pent-up male tension which plagued nearly every male on earth in the mornings. Without a current sex partner, his libido could sometimes be a distraction during the day and taking care of things in the shower had become something of a morning ritual. He’d found himself occasionally flirting with willing male staff members at work when he hadn’t had time to take the edge off. Jason viewed his advances on male colleagues as unprofessional and put a halt to it. Monica had teased him at how boring and routine his life had become. She had more sex than most men and considered Jason a prude.
He ate quickly, taking no joy in the fresh fruit, yogurt cultures, and granola he normally enjoyed. He quickly glanced over the papers again while he chewed mechanically. His worry over the papers increased as he read them a second time.
Hurriedly, he swished tooth cleaning fluid around in his mouth, too much in a rush to rebel, grimacing at the bitter taste before he spit it out and went to gather his satchel. Mom greeted him with a wave and blown kiss as he jogged out of the building. She was talking with one of the local kids who always seemed to be in some sort of trouble. Jason guessed the kid might be, at most, seventeen. If he had parents, they’d never shown up in this neighborhood, so Jason had always assumed the young man might be homeless.
Mom had him firmly in her grip and her tone indicated she lectured him about something he’d done wrong. His head was bowed in acceptance, but he glanced up when Jason waved back to Mom. The guy managed to look sheepishly at Jason for a moment.
Jason suppressed a grin by biting his lips and then sipped coffee the house robot had put in a thermal mug and set out for him prior to his leaving the apartment. Jason had been in that situation with Mom before and the familiarity of her tone was more than a little amusing. For a moment, his deep concern and anxiety were forgotten.
Jason took another sip of coffee. His nannies permitted the stimulant as part of the approved list of drugs, so it wasn’t broken down immediately. Jason imagined he’d be cranky if coffee was ever banned. There would probably be a mass rebellion. People liked their coffee and alcohol.
The drug approval lists were another reason the biosuits had been met with some resistance. Most people preferred being able to use illicit drugs of some kind. However, since people could simply take the suits off, the general populace wore their biosuits most of the time. Among those who adamantly refused to ever wear them were the hardcore drug users, who were often consuming one or more substances that kept them high all day.
Jason hopped on several transports, including a sky-lift, rapidly passing coffee shops and boutiques at various levels of towering buildings. Some of the clothing stores proudly displayed women’s designer biosuits, some ridiculously elaborate. Robot stores of all kinds, diners, and theaters were mixed in with small schools, gyms, flower shops, and art galleries. He quickly, via the high-speed transport, made his way up and over to the city levels of the Medic complex where his offices were located in a massive and sprawling set of buildings.
This location and setup allowed quick and efficient transport of supplies, robots, building and trash materials, and personnel, among other things. Like the arteries in the human body, the interconnected underground transports were in constant motion, moving crucial materials to where they were required. Patients could be rapidly transported between hospital divisions within the Sector on levitations trains, trains belonging solely to the medical infrastructure. Most complexes were this way. The Mechanics had a similar distribution and transport system, with their own underground freeways crisscrossing the Medic transport, as did the education system, the government, the goods and services’ collective, and a host of others—all separated and all constantly moving in a fluid and efficient fashion. Jason had no idea how it all worked, but it did—because the Techs kept it running with an automated efficiency that only an AI could fathom.
He finally reached his workplace terminal and exited the magnetic trains. Rather than going directly to his offices, which were much closer, he entered several levels below the entry he generally used, his breathing pleasantly elevated from the long walk from the terminal. Jason smiled in greeting to the nur
sing staff and other doctors as he passed the medical cubes and stations, noting the concern and sadness on their faces. Clearly, they had heard about Susan. Jason projected calm, understanding, and empathy. His position as a senior Medic derived partially from his capabilities in understanding and administering medical technology and its uses in the biological system. His true talent, however, lay in emotional control of others, giving him an advantage in his profession. People trusted him, respected him, and often unconsciously sought him out as a beacon of calm and hope.
Especially today.
Small groups in the hallways and from nearby seating reflexively crowded around him, stopping short of outright touching him, and he raised his level of broadcast to the maximum extent of his capabilities. In short order the shambling and hollow looks began to fade, and people straightened their backs with new resolve.
Normally, he would not take the time to wander this level, talking with people and observing their work, but people needed him today. Even if he wasn’t actively pretending to overlook Susan’s death, his responsibilities as a senior Medic came into play. First and foremost in medicine, the people practicing must be able to perform their duties. It was Jason’s responsibility as a healer to ease the minds of his staff, to enable those around him to do their jobs. In this way, the small time spent calming and encouraging others yielded the greatest results for the whole.
His personal communicator sounded, but he chose to ignore it, completing his rounds. After another fifteen minutes, he finally wound his way up and back toward his office, checking his call log as he arrived. Faust’s name appeared on the log, accompanied by a message. As the door slid closed behind him, he set his satchel down and carefully removed and secured the documents it contained, taking no chances this work would be seen by someone entering his office in his absence. He walked around his desk and opened the bottom right drawer, carefully placing the research order inside and then locking it.
Sector Seven Page 7
