We entered a cluster of cabins and small artificial ponds – the steam suggested they were heated – and a large log building known as the Lodge, all tucked into the tall fir trees. It was beautiful and private but also kind of creepy – like one of those small, isolated horror movie towns where the people hide dark secrets usually involving sacrificial rites or inbreeding.
Meredith stopped at the Lodge and everyone disembarked. Some staff greeted the passengers, but Merry led me away to a nearby cabin. Some of the cabins were as big as large homes, others more condo-sized. Ours was of the condo variety.
A thousand square foot two bedroom condo with a Jacuzzi, indoor gym, stone tile showers the size of large walk-in closets, big-screen OLED TVs linked to computers in every room, a kitchen lined with oak cabinets and stainless steel appliances and a butcher block island in the middle. Funny how almost everywhere I went shamed my house. My mom could easily afford to upgrade now, but showed no interest in that. Maybe she hoped our humble abode might help keep me "grounded"? If so, she must be profoundly disappointed.
Meredith and I looked over the itinerary, spelled out in the pamphlet left on the dining room polished oak table. The activities centered around the evening dinners, where various bigwigs including Max Emanuel, famous futurist Bob Siegren of Siegren Visions (creator of the most advanced virtually reality systems in the world), and my tutor and renowned molecular geneticist, Peter Lacey, and former FDA Commissioner turned CE Chief Information Officer, Miriam White, would be speaking. A concert featuring the improbable duo of John Denver and Jim Morrison, both personal friends of Max Emanuel, was slated for the second night. Pool parties, local hikes, boat tours of Lake Shasta, and even a tennis doubles tournament filled out the schedule. No hint of investment meetings. I guessed those would come later in more private settings.
Meredith poured herself a glass of wine and read through my talk, which was scheduled for tonight. I'd been working on it off and on throughout the week – mostly off – and was semi-satisfied with it. It revealed the basics of my "transition" without getting into the grotty stuff.
"Hmm," she said, leaning back from the table where she'd spread out my three pages. "You do realize your talk is scheduled to last thirty minutes? If you just read this you've got maybe a bit over five minutes."
"I know, but I thought I'd just open the floor to questions. And if no one's interested..." I smiled at her and attempted a sly wink which probably looked more like a tic because in truth I was nervous as hell about this so-called talk. "Maybe they won't ask me to ever speak again?"
"True," said Meredith with a soft laugh. "Based on this, I don't think you'll be in much demand on the talk circuit."
My smile crumpled. My sense of indulging in clever sabotage changed to a feeling of inadequacy.
"I could do better," I said, hearing the defensiveness in my voice. "But why should I? You know they practically blackmailed me into doing this, along with that contract extension."
"I know. They don't deserve your best or to know the real you."
"I can't believe I signed on with these people for another four-plus years. I was so looking forward to being free – to doing what I want to do with my life."
"Do you have a clear idea now what that's going to be? God, please don't tell me pro basketball."
"I don't know. I'm so sick of everyone charting out my life for me. I just want to make my own hopefully not too stupid choices, Merry."
She laughed. "Ya. I know something about what that's like, trust me. I was groomed to be a Baxter Pharmaceutical Princess from infancy. Imagine my parents' disappointment."
"But you're doing pretty well, right?"
"Not by my family's standards. You should hear the many joke variations about my 'high-priced escort service.'" She added with a grim smile, "Though I've been known to punch my brothers or people in my family for saying that shit."
"I'd say they deserve it." I hesitated, not sure I should say what was on my mind, but what the heck. "But I don't think Jenny did."
Meredith nodded, her smile resigned. "I've been waiting for you to bring that up. I admit it was a dumb move – if for no other reason than she could've smacked me into next Sunday. But also because it wasn't my place and I had no right. Ragnar has pointed that out to me more than once, as you might imagine."
"I wondered," I said. "Look, Merry, I get it. You thought she was exploiting me because she's older or whatever. But I agree with her that being hyper changes things."
"It's a nice excuse for her to avoid personal responsibility."
I just stared at her. She nodded again, her smile turning rueful.
"Ya, I know. I'm not excusing you of all responsibility, Aiden. But I know from personal experience that it's possible to resist a hyper's charms."
"Are you talking about me? Or Ragnar?"
"Both." She let out a short laugh. "We did sleep together without anything happening, if you remember. And I'm more than capable of putting Ragnar on hold if we clash."
"I didn't think it would be possible to put someone like Ragnar on hold."
"It's more than possible. Despite all his 'blessings,' I'd trade them all for a man who looks at me with love in his eyes."
I decided not to comment. I had no idea if Rag loved Meredith or what his feelings toward her were. They seemed to have some adversarial thing going. Maybe they just argued when I was around. My main worry was that they were both my friends and I didn't want their issues to come between me and them.
I stood up and stretched. The forest beckoned like a liberation through the windows.
"I think I'll take a run," I said.
"It's raining."
"I brought a rain jacket. And it's not cold outside." I felt as if I was talking to my mom.
"Okay. Well, have fun. See you later."
My first breath of rain-freshened air washed away my anxieties about this evening, and my body responded with its usual fusillade of endorphins and adrenaline and a general high on life buzz as I sprinted up a path leading out of the resort.
I whizzed by a few hikers – maybe from the resort or from some other wilderness area – pushing myself until my thighs and lungs started to burn. Not an easy thing given my off the charts VO2 max. I passed another runner: a lanky, bearded guy in his twenties or early thirties. He seemed to take my pass personally and picked up his pace, slowly gaining on me, huffing and puffing, until we encountered a steep rise and he dropped off with a snort of disgust.
I loved to run up hills. It was almost as good as squats at developing jumping ability. I was up to a 31" standing vertical and a 36-37" max vert and aiming for a 36" standing and 42" max. I was actually on course to being an elite athlete! At least by those measurements. Ragnar never tired of pointing out there was much more to being an athlete than raw numbers. He'd say: "A lot of guys could run and jump with Julius Erving, but who could execute those incredible aerial displays in the course of a game with someone guarding them?"
I reached the top of the crest. A few hundred meters below lay a perfect cliché of a "blue sapphire" or some other gemstone: Secret Lake. Blue at the center shading into green near the shores, encased in a circle of boulders and granite speckled by patches of sandy-gravel beach. Several kayaks and inflated rafts lay lined up on the nearest shore.
Also, there was a tent canopy stretched over part of the nearest beach under which twenty or thirty naked men and women were either having sex or heating themselves by a centrally located fire pit.
I jumped as the long-haired bearded guy I'd left in the dust came staggering up beside me.
"Man," he gasped, his eyes widening as he traced my stare to the beach, "did I just stumble into paradise or what?"
"I don't know." I squinted down at them. "Who are those people?"
He shaded his eyes. "Aren't they from the conference? I think I recognize a couple of people. Wait a minute – isn't that dude getting a blowjob by the shore Max Emanuel? And that other guy with the grey-streaked black
hair...Marv Gundy?"
"I think you're right." As totally unbelievable as it was.
I also recognized the long grey ponytail and skinny body of my of my molecular genetics tutor, Peter Lacey. It was freaky – on more than one level. But aside from the propriety of a public orgy or the weirdness of seeing Max Emanuel and several older men naked and screwing like satyrs, there was the near-certain statistical improbability of so many male conference attendees being in rut at the same time. Astronomically improbable at their ages.
"Has to be a demonstration," said the bearded guy wonderingly. "They said we could choose to sample Reprise if we wanted. Just have to sign a non-disclosure-no legal recourse paper first."
"What?" I turned to him in a daze. "I never heard anything about that."
He squinted at me. "You are from Ellsworth, aren't you? You came running down the resort trail."
"Yeah. I'm actually a guest speaker tonight." I couldn't take my eyes away from the debauchery below.
"Oh, right. You're that hyper-dude, aren't you? Explains why you blew me away on that hill." He thrust out a hand. "Josh Brightman."
I shook his hand. Wait a minute! The Josh Brightman, founder of –
"Sparrow Communications," he said with a knowing smile. "Squawk, squawk."
"Oh," I said, feeling foolish and a little shaky. Sparrow.com was only the dominant form of communication in the social media next to YourWorld. Joshua Brightman was a living internet legend at the ripe old age of thirty. "Nice to meet you. It's an honor. I'm Aiden."
"Nice to meet you, too, Aiden. I've never met a hyper. Shit, man, you're all lit up."
"My sweat must be reflecting the light."
Josh laughed. "Yeah, right, man. But it's cool. Luck of the draw and all."
We redirected our focus to the scene below. I could feel the first inescapable tendrils of desire.
"So they didn't tell you about the free Reprise samples?" Josh asked.
"Nope."
"Guess they didn't figure you'd be interested in them."
I wasn't sure what Dr. Eberhart and CellEvolve were thinking in leaving out that little detail. Was she worried I would change my mind about attending? I couldn't see why.
"Do you want to try it?" I asked.
"Maybe on my own. Not with them."
I had the most disconcerting image of myself – an unspeakable essence of myself – powering the men's bodies below. Until that moment that thought hadn't occurred to me.
"What are you gonna do?" Josh asked me.
"Finish my run, I guess."
"Mind if I join you?"
"Nope. Not at all."
ON THE Lodge auditorium stage I faced my demons – a network of tables filled with illustrious people like Marion Ellsworth, VR mogul Bob Siegren, and Max Emanuel himself – all eyes fixed on me with smiling or curious expectation. I would've imagined them naked but that was now unnecessary. Especially with Max Emanuel and his entourage at the central table nearest the stage.
I stared down at my three pages. They struck me now as dull footnotes to my life. I was filled with the urge to transcend them. I wanted to entertain the crowd – to make them think. Or maybe, considering what I'd seen at Secret Lake, to warn them.
From the middle of the conference room, Meredith met my eyes and nodded. On another table, my new friend, the bearded uber-internet entrepreneur, Josh Brightman, raised his bottle of beer to me. I recognized several women from the Rocky Mountain Conference in Aspen – interestingly or perhaps predictably, only a few of the men – including Aphrodisia's Allison Bern, the ageless Nietzsche-quoting Asian beauty and her blond German lover, Chrissie Hayashi and Elise, and the redhead from Goldman-Sachs whose name I couldn't remember.
I also recognized the "Great Man" himself, Marion Ellsworth. Marion Ellsworth Jr., actually. A cadaverous man with a disconcerting mane of grey hair who was pushing one hundred, in part because of numerous heart transplants and other exotic medical care, according to Omnipedia. As one of the richest humans in the world, I figured he could afford the most advanced health care imaginable.
And then there was Dr. Martha Eberhart – the first time I'd spotted her here –sitting not far from Merry in the middle tables, her glacial blue eyes drilling into me with cold expectation. That was when I decided to change my talk.
"At CellEvolve, we've been trying to cure MES," I said. "Ideally, make all men hyper or close to it. I guess right now I'm thinking: be careful what you wish for."
A mildly appreciative chuckle rolled through the room. Meredith was smiling, but her raised eyebrow perhaps counseled caution.
"Becoming hyper was the last thing on my mind," I said. "If you'd asked me, I'm sure I would've turned down the idea. I liked my life. I studied and learned new things on a daily basis. I was good at a lot of subjects. I really didn't know the meaning of the word 'frustration' until one day a girl whistled at me in the library and soon I was filled with this bizarre, aching, all-consuming desire – a desire that has never ended to this day. I understand that boys felt something like that on entering adolescence, and they still do for a few days every month or two or three, but from what I've read I'm pretty sure that what I felt – what I feel – exceeds normal adolescent feelings by an order of magnitude.
"There are, of course, some obvious positives. My stamina, both mental and physical, has gotten way better. I can exercise or study for hours without getting tired. I haven't gotten sick since transitioning. Even my old allergies are gone. I stopped needing glasses. I'm much stronger and more athletic and I recover faster from physical stress and injuries. Pretty cool improvements.
"The downside is that your "hyped"-up desires can get you in trouble." I paused as some knowing chuckles rose from the group. My stay in the Woodvale Juvenile Detention Facility was probably common knowledge here. "They also derailed my life-plans. Maybe temporarily, maybe not. I've gone from dreaming of being a scientist to dreaming of being an NBA player. But the worst thing for me is that I made some bad choices which resulted in contractual commitments – including speaking at this conference – that will bind me for years. When you're hyper a lot of people, some of them pretty rich and powerful, want something from you. And being young, you're not in the best state to make foresightful judgments."
Those last comments drew a slight frown from Max Emanuel and some of his guests. Meredith's expression struck me as carefully neutral. Dr. Eberhart was watching me with her head cocked, as if to determine the best placement for a spear thrust or an artillery round.
"I think if it were up to me, I'd choose to be a normal in the old sense," I said. "I mean, normal sexually. I'd like to see normal function restored to all guys. With any luck we'll figure out how to do that. From what I saw out at the lake earlier today, maybe we have."
From what I could tell, the mood of the gathering was uncertain. Max Emanuel's puzzled half-smile was mirrored by many around him. They didn't know where I was coming from. A few people, including Josh Brightman, appeared somewhat approving. Meredith looked more worried than anything. Dr. Eberhart regarded me with her usual cool, bug-squashing reptilian gaze.
"Does anyone have any questions?" I asked.
No one even looked like they were thinking about asking a question. It was as if I'd spoken those words into a vacuum. And I had the sudden sense that question-asking abhors a vacuum.
I waited until the silence just started to get awkward before saying, "Well, I guess that's it, then. Thanks for listening." A pretty lame conclusion, but maybe a fitting conclusion for a lame talk.
I departed the stage to anemic applause. Well, screw them. I passed Max Emanuel on his way to the stage and he offered his hand for an obligatory shake, his smile more puzzled than disapproving. I headed toward the front doors as he announced the next speaker, former FDA Commissioner and now CE Chief Information Officer, Miriam White. She was talking about a CE's "glorious future" in a "market increasingly unfettered by obstructive rules and regulations" where it seemed a pharma
ceutical paradise would shortly unfold.
I pushed through the doors out into a cool, crystal-clear night. Looking up, I saw the clouds were gone and the sky was all stars.
Filled with my usual restless energy, I was tempted to go for another run, but the thought of bears or mountain lions lurking – I'd even read reports of Sasquatch in the area – discouraged that notion. Not that I believed in Sasquatch, which was surely a product of pseudoscientific thinking, but why take any chances?
I'd also promised my mom I'd call her my first night and let her know how things were going. I pulled out my cell as I headed for my cabin.
"How did the talk go?" was her first question.
"I kept it short and sweet," I said. "Well, really not that sweet. I just gave them the basics."
"That sounds fine. What more do they deserve? It's not as though you signed on as inspirational speaker. To be honest, I'm not sure why they even pressured you into going."
"Maybe they just wanted a token young person. I doubt any of the guys here are under forty."
"A token poster child, maybe."
We chatted for a few more minutes. I pointedly did not bring up what I'd seen at the lake. I couldn't see her taking that too well.
In the cabin, I was working up a good sweat with some deadlifts and bench presses when the doorbell rang.
"Evening," Josh Brightman greeted me at the door. "I saw you skip out an hour ago. I kept wishing I had the guts to do the same."
"And here I thought I was being a wimp for running away. You want to come in?"
"If you don't mind." He smiled as he entered past me. "I enjoyed your talk, by the way. Very succinct."
"Thanks. I'm not sure everyone appreciated that." We paused in the living room. "Do you want something to eat or drink?"
"I'm still stuffed with prime rib, but some coffee would be great."
I started the coffee machine going and grabbed a beer from the fridge to go with my sandwich. Life as a single dude sure could be sweet.
Hyper Page 39
