Hyper

by Lawrence Ambrose

  I know you're probably thinking "Why would I want to get involved with this kid?" I won't try to argue you out of that. I'll just say that I'm not your normal guy of this age (I guess that goes without saying, being hyper!). I'm frustrated with people my age on many levels. I long for a more adult connection, especially an intelligent, more intellectual kind of woman. I was very impressed with that part of your profile.

  I hope that you will respond to my letter and be willing to meet in person soon.

  Best,

  Microbiologist2020

  I sat back for a few moments, wondering if I should write more or amend anything. The temptation to write a long essay describing my life and thoughts in greater detail tugged at me, but what would be the point if she rejected me immediately because of my age (which was fairly likely)? There'd be time for that later, if there was a later.

  I sent the email.

  Chapter 24

  MARCUS SALLINGER (CELLEVOLVE DIRECTOR of Personnel and Material Acquisitions) sent an email the next morning listing twenty-two possible lab sex-partners. No real time to check them out before school, sadly, but I saw enough to know that none of them were on my saved list – which I'd sent to them last night. That list had excluded G7755. I'd decided whatever developed between us, if anything, would be off the books.

  I had a lot of trouble focusing in school as I looked forward to checking out CE's list. I was barely civil to our tennis coach, Mr. Beckham, when he approached me in the halls after the final bell, hoping to enlist me on the Jefferson High tennis team. He'd noticed me knocking some balls around with Jim after school the day before on the schoolyard tennis courts and believed I might have a "natural talent." If anything about me could truly be called "natural." I didn't slow my fast stride to the parking lot, forcing him to half-sprint alongside me while breathlessly extolling the fabulous joys of tennis and ignoring my "I don't think I have time." My last words to him before I shut my car door were "No thanks, Mr. Beckham."

  My mom was still at work, and Mel wasn't home, so I raced straight to my room and logged into my email account with the sense of opening a much-anticipated birthday present.

  CE's selections were a great-looking bunch, predictably, with a few who stood out for me, but their profiles were kind of a let-down. Acquisitions obviously used different search criteria, and the women sounded pretty boring for the most part ("If you're looking for the time of your life, please contact me," "I can handle your very best and make you cry for more!", "Your every desire is my sacred mission").

  But then maybe Acquisitions' goal was to find willing and discreet women, not my romantic ideal. I foresaw a problem staying turned on by women who proclaimed themselves to be my mindless sexual slaves. I'd just have to work on channeling my inner mindless horny teenager.

  I emailed Marcus to go ahead with the vetting of their women and the list of women I'd sent them. I was about to sign off and shoot some baskets at the nearby park when another email came in – this one from the Hypersphere website and G7755!

  This was it. I opened the email.

  Dear Microbiologist2020,

  Thank you for writing me. I confess to performing a bit of research online – as well as speaking to a co-worker – and learned that there is one known hyper residing in Jefferson. Your description of yourself matches the description of I have for this hyper fairly well: a senior with academic and athletic gifts attending Jefferson High named Aiden Stevens. Is that you?

  That Aiden Stevens is listed as being between 16 and 17, so there is a minor discrepancy there. The word "minor" has special significance, since 'intimate contact' with a minor carries a rather stiff jail sentence. It is also illegal for you, which I'm sure you noticed when you spent several weeks in a detention center.

  D'oh! I dropped my head into my hands, not even wanting to read the rest. How could I have been so dumb not to have seen the obvious possibility that she'd check up on me? Even if she hadn't been in "news media," anyone with half a brain could've figured out who I was from my generous clues. I resumed reading with a heavy heart.

  I'm not judging you, Aiden. I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to be you right now. You have to just hang in there for another two years or so. But even then, you would be considerably too young for me.

  Best of luck in what I have no doubt will be a bright future for you.

  G7755

  I slumped back in my chair, my breath wheezing out. The worst part was that I knew she was right. I was being an idiot. Yet I hated being dismissed, treated as some dumb kid, even if I definitely was one. And as I chewed on that gnarly bone a logical counterargument gradually formed in my head.

  I had been granted an exemption by the Reproductive Safety Agency. Only under CellEvolve's "supervision," true, but if a problem did arise it I had no doubt they could massage it away with the RSA document.

  Before I really knew what I was doing I typed:

  Actually, I have a legal waiver from the Reproductive Safety Agency now. It's part of an experimental program I'm enlisted in.

  I tapped send and sat back scratching my head and wondering what I was up to now. Had sex once again lowered my IQ or was I simply naming a logical truth?

  I was startled by a reply from G7755 appearing in my mailbox. That was quick.

  Okay, Aiden, I'll bite. What experimental program are you enlisted in?

  I emailed her that if I told her I'd have to "you know what."

  Would you mind going to the chat program here?

  Yes! I'd hooked her – for the moment. I signed into Hypersphere Chat. She was waiting for me.

  MB202: Hi! I'm here.

  G7755: Thanks. How are you doing today?

  MB202: Not bad. Sorry I wasn't truthful about my age. I've been getting really tired lately of being limited by it.

  G7755: I understand. We're all limited by our ages in some way. By the way, I wasn't completely honest about my age, either. I'm actually twenty-eight, only a month or so from being twenty-nine. I never got around to changing my age after I'd first registered last year. ;-)

  MB202: Have you had any luck meeting hypers?

  G7755: Not so much. But I'd rather talk about you and your research project.

  MB202: It's a proprietary secret, and I've signed non-disclosure forms, so I can't really talk about it.

  G7755: Then you can't prove it's true?

  I rubbed my head hard, trying to summon some clever solution. I couldn’t very well show her a copy of the RSA document...or could I? I could blank out the parts of it that named CellEvolve, but leave the rest of it – including my name – intact...

  MB202: I could. But we'd need to meet in person.

  G7755: Is this a trap?

  MB202: We can meet in a public place.

  G7755: Can I ask what would this proof would be?

  MB202: An RSA document. I would have to black out some stuff, but I think it would convince you.

  G7755: Does this involve the CIA?

  MB202: No. But the people running the program do take security pretty seriously.

  G7755: At sixteen? Does this program have to do with you being hyper?

  MB202: I could tell you but then I would have to...well, you know.

  A minute or so passed. I assumed she was thinking it over.

  G7755: Okay. I'll accept that for now, Aiden. Maybe we could meet somewhere and talk about it?

  I wanted to ask if I had her interest because I was involved in an experiment or because she could be 'intimate' with me without facing possible jail time, but I didn't want to risk ruining everything.

  MB202: Okay. Any suggestions?

  G7755: Ackland Park? It's about halfway between Sacramento and Jefferson.

  MB202: I know where it is. That's fine by me.

  G7755: Tomorrow, after school?

  MB202: I get out at 2:30 tomorrow. I couldn't believe this was actually happening! I could be there by three.

  G7755: That will work. I'll be waiting on a bench
by the main parking area. And please don't forget the waiver document.

  MB202: I'll have it with me.

  G7755: I'm looking forward to meeting you.

  MB202: Me, too.

  G7755: Goodbye, Aiden.

  MB202: I don't know your name.

  G7755: I'll properly introduce myself tomorrow. Bye.

  MB202: Okay. Bye.

  IT WAS fairly quiet on Highway 80 to Sacramento – a relative calm before the rush hour storm. Not a lot of cars in the Ackland parking lot, either. I found a spot only a few spaces from the young blond woman on the bench at the edge of the greenbelt. She raised a hand in tentative greeting when I climbed out of the car.

  It was hard to make out her features with her Kings cap and sunglasses, but when she stood the sculpted body filling out her jeans and blouse identified her as the woman in the Hypersphere photos. I was surprised by her height. I doubted I had more than two inches on her.

  "Hi," she said, extending her hand. "Aiden Stevens, I presume. I'm Jenny Green."

  "Hi. Nice to meet you."

  Her handshake was warm and firm. Short blond hair poked out from beneath her cap. Fine blondish-brown eyebrows framed the top of her sunglasses. Her lips were full and light pink – I couldn't tell if she was wearing lipstick – and her teeth were predictably white and flawless as she smiled. She smelled nice. I wasn't sure if it was perfume or her natural odor.

  "Nice car." She nodded to my BMW. "Your parents let you borrow it?"

  "No. Actually, it's mine."

  "Oh." She paused as if debating whether to ask me more, but then just smiled. "Do you want to sit? Or maybe walk?"

  "Walking sounds good."

  "I'm not much of a sitter myself." She turned to face the park. "Nice out today. And not many people."

  "Yeah. It's cool."

  "You're quite a handsome young man."

  "Thanks." I smiled at her. "For not calling me a kid."

  "You're probably growing up in some ways faster – or at least different – than most of your peers."

  "Different, definitely."

  We started walking along a path winding between oak trees into the park. I maneuvered to her left side so that the breeze would carry my Andrydox-free pheromones to her pretty, slim nose. Unlike with Xandra, I wanted to make my strongest chemical impression on her. As a mere sixteen year old boy in her eyes, I had to use my best "asset."

  "When did you change?" Jenny asked.

  "Just eight or nine months ago, I guess."

  "That's kind of late, isn't it?"

  "Yeah. Most hypers change at puberty – around 12 or thirteen."

  "Must've been quite a shock."

  "That would be an understatement." I shook my head and smiled at the insane uproar of those first few days. And things hadn't gotten any saner, it seemed. "It was as if I'd stepped into a parallel world."

  "A world of every teenage boy's fantasy?"

  I noted her knowing smile with a far more lukewarm one of my own. Pretty much everyone, except maybe my mom and Ragnar, assumed that.

  "I guess," I said. "Though maybe it's sort of a 'be careful what you wish for' kind of thing."

  Jenny Green laughed softly. "Have you read 'Hyper Life' by Jeremy Lighthouse?"

  "No. I haven't heard of it."

  "It's an autobiography of a hyper guy – a Native American Sioux – describing what he went through. It was a kind of double shock for him, because he was living on a reservation and it thrust him suddenly into white society and a whole other socio-economic bracket."

  That snagged my interest. "What happened to him?"

  "Ha, well, in a nutshell, he went on a crazy binge of sampling women, spending time in jail, and finally becoming a professional baseball player. And you'd never guess which team."

  "I don't follow baseball much, sorry."

  "The Cleveland Indians."

  "Holy shit." I laughed loud enough to scare some doves from a nearby tree. "That's pretty crazy."

  "That's what being hyper often allows you to do – live the big, crazy dream."

  "Is he still playing baseball?"

  "Oh, yeah. He's only my age, still at the top of his game, I hear. I don't really follow baseball, either."

  "Is he...uh, like married?"

  "He lives with four women. Or he was at the end of the book."

  I glanced at Jenny. Her voice and face struck me as carefully neutral.

  "One thing I'm curious about," I said. "Why do you want to be with a hyper?"

  "You mean, aside from the usual reason?" She was smiling.

  "Yeah..." I released a nervous laugh. "You just don't seem like someone who's that, you know..."

  "Desperate?"

  "Right. I was going to say 'simple.'"

  "Thanks. Anything but simple. Or so I've been told."

  We angled off the path to the side of an artificial lake. A cluster of ducks carved lines across the smooth surface. The day was so still that our movement seemed to be generating the only breeze.

  "I wasn't quite honest about more than just my age," she said. "I also wasn't straightforward about my motivations. You noticed I listed 'news media' as my employment."

  "Yeah. I assumed you work for a newspaper or some online site."

  "I'm actually an investigative journalist."

  "Oh." I took a moment to decide if I should be annoyed or impressed. "So...your ad, meeting me...is this about doing a story? A story on hypers?"

  "Right. I'm hoping to write a series of articles about the hyper experience or something along those lines. I'm sorry for luring you here under false pretenses."

  I didn't answer right away. A flash of irritation and disappointment smacked me. But really, what was I expecting? She'd already said she wasn't interested in a relationship with someone my age, just as any sane person wouldn't be.

  "Why did you want me to bring the RSA exemption then?" Annoyance clipped my voice. I made an effort to mellow out. "I mean, you know, if you just wanted a story."

  "Well, you never know where a story will take you. Would you mind showing the waiver to me?"

  Hope blossomed in my chest, seconded by a pleasant prickling lower down. Cool it. This was just business for her. I dug out a copy of the two page document which I'd artfully blacked out as needed. She held it up in the sunlight.

  "Hmmm... It looks official. It says the exemption was granted to you, but there appear to be some conditions, which you've blanked out along with whoever conducting this 'research program.'"

  "They're kinda picky about their privacy," I said.

  "You can't tell me who's directing the research?"

  "No."

  She studied the document some more. "Of course anyone with even basic Photoshop skills could create this."

  I swallowed down a fresh helping of irritation.

  "Would you mind if I held onto this? Look it over more later?"

  I had a moment of panic. Could she use some form of forensics to detect the blacked-out areas? I didn't see how that would be possible. I'd first blacked it out and then made a copy of the blacked out copy, so there wouldn't be any chance of detecting letters under the black magic marker.

  "Don't worry, I just wanted to check out the logo and the wording. I wouldn't be able to tell what's under the black marks."

  "Oh. I guess you could take it, then."

  "Thank you."

  She folded it into her back pocket and we resumed walking. I hoped I hadn't missed something in giving it to her. It bothered me that I didn't understand exactly why she wanted it.

  "Do you really think I might've made that up?" I asked. "It's not as if I'd have to lie to have sex."

  "I know. Please don't take offense. I suspect you're telling the truth, and I'm sure you had a thousand pages of women to look through." She gave me a sly smile from one corner of her mouth. "Did you make other dates while you were cruising the Hypersphere?"

  "No. You're the only one I contacted."

  "But you saved
a bunch of them, didn't you?"

  I shrugged. "It was the first time I'd really checked out the Hypersphere. It was kind of...unreal."

  "Like being a kid in a candy store?"

  "Maybe a diabetic kid." Images from the night before swirled through my head. "If you actually started eating all that sugar it could make you pretty sick."

  "I'd guess it wasn't all that fun in the juvenile detention center. I know Jeremy Lighthouse wasn't too fond of his experience. The level of frustration being kept isolated from women was pretty extraordinary. Though I suppose it might not be too bad if you were a gay hyper."

  "It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. But then I wasn't there that long, thanks to Ragnar."

  "Ragnar?"

  "Ragnar Norquist. I don't know if you follow basketball..."

  Jenny Green stopped walking and stared at me. I couldn't make out her eyes, but her gorgeous mouth was gaping.

  "You're talking about Ragnar Thor Norquist?"

  I was so enjoying the shock in her voice.

  "Yup. I guess you follow basketball then?" I was grinning.

  "You're telling me that Ragnar Norquist personally intervened in your detention sentence? I didn't see any mention of that online."

  "I just ran into him at a Kings game, got his autograph, and mentioned I was a hyper, too. We became friends later. He says we hyper brothers should stick together."

  "Ah." She seemed at a loss.

  "Are you a fan?"

  "Are you kidding? I don't think I've miss any Kings game since he came into the league. I have to admit that I've always been fascinated by hypers. They almost always have this bigger-than-life glow. They're like the personification of what it means to be successful."

  I smoothed back my hair and smiled at her. "Do you think I have a bigger-than-life glow?"

  After a measured stare, she gave me a dry smile. "You're working on it."