Paradigm 2045- Trinity's Children

by Robert W. Ross

  Sokolov frowned, considering that for a minute, then said, “So, the special coffee we are paying extra for is actually an inferior version created due to a previous, but now non-existent, scarcity of pure coffee?”

  The server shrugged apologetically, then asked, “Would anyone else like more?”

  Both Damien and Charlotte nodded and their server turned to go. Misha reached out and gently grabbed his arm, then turned back to the others. “Before he goes, I want to make sure neither of you want any more of those donuts?”

  The server looked confused, then said, “But ma’am, the beignets come as an order of three. Did you want more than that?”

  “It’s Marc, right?” asked Misha. He nodded and she continued. “Marc, I just wanted to save you another trip. I want three of those little donuts. The beignets. I also don’t want either of those two thinking they can have any of mine.”

  Marc tried to suppress a smile. “I see, ma’am,” then looked meaningfully at Charlotte and Damien.

  “I’ll take three,” said Damien and he felt Omandi’s eyes on him, then added, “for myself,” then turned to Charlotte with a smile.

  She sighed. “Since apparently I’m the only one with a normal metabolism, and can’t get through another whole order, I’ll just stick with the coffee.”

  “I’ll add an extra one to your friend’s order,” offered Marc, “free of charge. I trust he’ll let you have one then?”

  “Thank you,” said Charlotte with a smile. “I wouldn’t count on it, but he’ll probably comply if I make it an order.”

  The server left and Misha leaned forward. “Why would you say that?”

  “What?” asked Charlotte with feigned innocence.

  “You know very well, what.” Misha affected Omandi’s Kenyan accent, “he’ll comply if I make it an order.” She shifted back to her normal voice, then growled, “We could have just stayed in the uniforms Linnea made for us if you were going to talk like that.”

  “Then maybe,” began Charlotte, “you two will show a bit more consideration for those of us without either android or hummingbird-like metabolisms.” She frowned at Misha then spoke in a comically exaggerated Russian accent, “Waiter…ask if others want donuts. Misha not share.”

  The security officer grimaced. “Leave the languages and accents to Sorenson, sir. You made me sound like a concussion victim.”

  “Look,” said Damien and pointed across the narrow street. A middle-aged woman and teen girl exited the doctor’s office and angled off toward the adjacent parking lot.

  “Is that the last one?” asked Misha. “Damn it. I really wanted more of that inferior coffee.”

  “No,” replied Damien, “There were three others that had entered earlier.” He pointed again. Both Charlotte and Misha turned toward the large picture window that took up much of the office front. The curtains were partially drawn, but they could easily see two young adults and a child of perhaps six or seven.

  Misha set an elongated tube on the table and aimed it at the window, then handed a small tapered device to both Damien and Charlotte. She held up an identical object and made a point of showing them how she inserted it into her ear. They shared a quizzical look, but then followed suit. Misha rested her hand terminal on the table and tapped through several menus. A moment later a zoomed image of the doctor’s office appeared on Misha’s hand terminal and they could hear a conversation in near perfect clarity.

  “Thank you for seeing us, Doctor Carpenter,” said the woman, her voice thick with relief.

  “Think nothing of it, Mrs. Jamison. I’m just glad you were able to make it in tonight, and please call me Rick.”

  Omandi lay her hand over Misha’s hand terminal and stared at her security officer. “What are you doing? We are not going to spy on this doctor’s patients.”

  “We are not spying,” retorted Sokolov, “we are gathering intelligence. I want to get some idea of this guy’s abilities. Why is he here so late? What makes him tick? If you don’t want to listen, that’s fine, but I’m not letting you walk into a building, with limited exits, while knowing nothing about the genetically engineered person within.”

  “She does have a point,” offered Damien, “and it is not as if we are going to exploit that family with the information.”

  Omandi looked unconvinced so Misha pressed her advantage. “A good captain takes solid counsel when offered. I don’t tell you how to convince people to do things they don’t want to do. You shouldn’t tell me how to keep you alive, and us safe, unless there is a damned good reason.” Sokolov paused a moment then asked, “Do you have a damned good reason?”

  “No,” Omandi said with a sigh, “but I don’t like it.”

  Misha shrugged, “I can live with that, since I didn’t like you coming along at all. Damien and I could have handled this, but you said, ‘no,’ so it was no.” Sokolov tapped the hand terminal which caused both picture and sound to resume.

  Doctor Carpenter sat on the floor watching the young boy as he played with some seashells stored under the table that was located between two couches. He looked up at the woman who was obviously the boy’s mother and said, “No, I think you are right. Autism spectrum disorder with co-morbid bi-polar.”

  The two parents shared a look of astonishment and the father said, “My wife has been researching for months, but every other doctor has told us she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. They just keep giving Davey more drugs.”

  Rick gestured to the boy and he came over to sit down next to the doctor. “Davey,” he said, “how are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” said the boy, then held up a shell. “Can I keep this?”

  Rick smiled. “Of course you can. That’s what they're for, but the sea shells know this is their home. They will be sad if you take them away without giving them a chance to say goodbye.”

  The image fuzzed and jumped for a few seconds. Misha looked up and grumbled as several people walked past the office window, momentarily disrupting the imagery. It stabilized and all three of them leaned in to get a better look.

  “What’s he doing?” asked Damien. Omandi looked at the android with an incredulous expression and he gave her an apologetic smile.

  Charlotte said, “Damien, it was Howard-Prime who edited Carpenter’s genome and you are asking me what the doctor is about to do to that little boy?”

  Damien inclined his head. “Both statements are true, Captain. Unfortunately, I have no memory of Doctor Howard’s eugenics program. I strongly suspect, he excised memories related to Richard Carpenter’s gifts so we could experience—” he gestured to the screen, “this, together.”

  The three watched as Richard said, “Davey, put down the shell a moment because you and I are going to have a shell-going-away party.” The boy did. “Good, now hold your hands up like this.” Carpenter lifted his hands so that both palms faced outward. The boy mirrored the gesture, but the doctor pulled his hands back slightly. “No, we don’t want to touch, at least not yet. Just hold your hands up like you were before and remain very still.”

  The boy looked back at his parents who both nodded with anxious encouragement. He smiled, then turned front again. “I like this game, Doctor Carpenter.”

  “I’m glad, Davey, but you can call me Rick, okay?”

  “Okay…Rick. I like this game. What do we do now?”

  “Just keep your hands like that, and close your eyes.” The boy did. “Good, now tell me when you start to feel something.” Rick moved his own hands closer.

  “What’s he doing?” asked Damien again and both women glared at him.

  “Holy shit,” said Misha a second later and snatched up the hand terminal to look at it more closely.

  “Hey!” yelled Omandi, “Put that back down I—”

  Misha turned the display around so it faced Damien and Charlotte. “Look,” said the security officer, “I’m not one for getting freaked out about much of anything, but” she jostled the hand terminal meaningfully, “this
is seriously fucked up.”

  “It appears to be some kind of self-generated energy field,” said Damien. “It is enveloping both Carpenter and the boy.”

  “But not their hands,” added Omandi. “Isn’t that strange? The field seems to emanate from his hands and then wrap around both Carpenter and the boy.”

  “I feel something,” said Davey.

  “Good,” replied Rick with a smile, “tell me what you feel.”

  “It’s like when my foot falls asleep. It’s all pin prickly. Is that right, Doctor…I mean Rick?”

  “Yes, perfect. Now I don’t want you to be scared Davey because—”

  “I won’t be scared, Rick. Daddy says I’m the bravest boy he knows. I’m a fire fighter you know. Daddy says I sometimes have fires in my mind and that I’m the only one who can put them out. Firefighters don’t get scared.”

  Rick glanced up and met the father’s gaze. His eyes were filled with tears that threatened to flow and he gripped his wife’s hand with white knuckles. The doctor gave him an encouraging nod, then said, “Your dad is right, but I’m going to try and put that fire out once and for all. Would you like that Davey?”

  The boy nodded, but frowned a second later. “Will I still be a firefighter?”

  “Of course,” said Rick, “you will just be fighting fires outside your mind. Is that ok? I can only help you if you want me to, Davey.”

  “It’s ok, Rick. Sometimes the fires are too hot and I can’t stop them. I’m mean to mommy and daddy. Sometimes, when the fire is really hot, I even want to hurt myself.”

  Omandi reached over and squeezed Misha’s hand. The security officer sniffed and wiped at her face. “Fucking kids,” she murmured, “can’t stand to see kids hurting. It’s a weakness, I know.”

  “It’s a strength,” Charlotte whispered.

  “Look,” said Damien.

  Doctor Carpenter gripped the boy’s hands in his own and the aura around the two brightened and pulsed. “Why aren’t the parents reacting?” asked Omandi.

  “The radiation he’s emitting isn’t part of the visible light spectrum,” said Damien. “The hand terminal is tuned to a broader frequency.” Both Misha and Charlotte stared at the android. He gave them a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I know until I know it. Had you asked that question before, I would have told you, but you didn’t.”

  Misha grimaced. “I can see you are going to compete with James for who annoys me the—”

  “It’s gone,” said Omandi. “The energy field. It’s gone.”

  Doctor Carpenter continued to sit on the floor, but leaned back against one of the chairs. Davey rubbed at his temples and stood while his parents looked first to Rick and then to their son.

  “The fire,” began Davey in a small voice, “Mom, Dad, the fire. The fire in my mind, it’s…it’s gone out.”

  Doctor Richard Carpenter accepted one final hug and handshake from the two elder Jamisons, then knelt down so he was eye level with Davey. Rick slipped a shell into the boy’s hand but Davey looked worried and whispered, “I never knew I could feel this way, but will it come back, the fires I mean?”

  Rick shook his head and smiled. “No, Davey, they are gone for good.”

  He didn’t seem convinced. “But how do you know?”

  Carpenter patted the boy’s hand and said, “I found where the fires lived, Davey. I saw them and I took them. You see, that’s why they can’t come back, because I took them, and once you leave they won’t know where to find you.”

  The boy threw his arms around the doctor’s neck and squeezed. “Thank you,” he said, then took his parent’s hands as the three headed out a side entrance to the nearby parking lot. Rick smiled and started to close the door when he saw Davey turn and call out to him. “Doctor Carpenter, I was just thinking about the fires. I know you took them, but where did you take them?”

  “Someplace safe,” said Rick, then gave a heavy sigh as the door clicked shut.

  “I bet that takes a lot out of you,” said Charlotte from behind the doctor. “Ever heard of TANSTAAFL?”

  Rick turned and stared at the three people who stood past his small office and within the cozy examination room beyond. He shook his head. “Tanstaafl? No, can’t say that I have, but it’s late and I’m very tired. If you—”

  Omandi raised a hand and offered a welcoming gesture. “It’s an acronym. TANSTAAFL. It stands for Their Ain’t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch. I’ve found that to be a universal truth, even for genetically engineered faith healers like yourself. I’m Charlotte Omandi. These are my colleagues, Misha Sokolov and Damien Smith. I can tell you that all three of us are very pleased to meet you.”

  Doctor Carpenter walked toward the trio, and Misha gestured to the main entrance. “You should keep that locked, Doc. You never know what kind of people may come through an open door.”

  He nodded. “I suspect you’re right at that. He squinted at each of them in turn. I certainly wouldn’t have expected to meet two of my Howard siblings and an android.”

  Chapter 23

  A Daemon's Gambit

  “Well,” chuckled Damien, “I, for one, didn’t see that coming at all.” Both Misha and Charlotte shot him similarly flat expressions and he grinned, “Well, I didn’t.”

  Doctor Carpenter reached up and cupped the android’s face with one hand. He closed his eyes a moment and whistled softly. “Remarkable.”

  “Please, Doc, stop. You’re going to make me blush,” said Damien.

  Rick stepped back appraisingly, then shook his head. “I’m never going to be much help to you, I’m afraid. My nanites can’t determine an optimal biometric structure for you, Damien.”

  “Then I will endeavor to remain uninjured, at least until we can update your little critters’ medical database.”

  Carpenter’s eyes widened in surprise, but Misha stepped forward and said, “Do me.”

  Omandi pulled her back. “Hold on. I’m trying to catch up here. All of you seem to know things that I clearly do not.” She turned to Damien, “and I thought all the Howard-Prime memories that might affect our future interactions were wiped.”

  Damien shook his head, “Not wiped, just not included.” Omandi squinted at him and her science officer raised a placating hand. “Fair enough, I’ll grant that it’s a distinction without a difference. Let me clarify. I have no Howard-Prime memories of Doctor Carpenter, but when he touched me, a swarm of nanites attempted to run a biological diagnostic on me.”

  “That’s why I want him to try it on me,” said Misha. “I have embedded nanites as well.”

  “You do?” asked the others in unison.

  “No, I’m lying,” scoffed Misha, then added, “how do you think I heal so quickly?”

  “I don’t know,” grumbled Charlotte, “my security officer declined to elaborate when I first asked.”

  “We were in a damaged aircraft, traveling near Mach one, and at less than a hundred feet off the ground. Satiating your curiosity wasn’t a top priority. You never brought it up again so—” Misha shrugged, then stepped forward again. “Do me.”

  Rick reached out and touched her face just as he had with Damien. “You are badly injured,” he said, voice laced with genuine concern.

  Sokolov shot Charlotte an embarrassed look, and gave a half-hearted laugh. “C’mon doc, I’m not that injured. In fact—”

  “Your liver and spleen are both compromised,” he countered. “You would be dead from those injuries were it not for the automated repairs made by your system’s nanite flora.” The doctor closed his eyes, concentrating and spoke as if to himself. “But they aren’t being very effective. I don’t understand why they would try and repair…no, wait, I see why. They are using a basic triage approach. That makes sense, if she hasn’t been resting, but if I can just get them to—”

  “Whoa, holy shit!” cried Misha, “Doc, what are you doing? Oh, that feels really—”

  “Lieutenant?” asked Omandi, and reached up to pull Carp
enter away from Misha, but she shook her head.

  “It’s okay, Captain. He’s not hurting me. In fact he’s…” Sokolov’s entire body trembled and her face became flushed. She stuttered and tried to catch her breath. “He’s directing my embedded nanites to…” she gave another exhalation of breath then locked eyes with Rick. “Doc, wow, you really should ask a girl for consent before you go inside her like that.”

  Carpenter lowered his hand. “Hmm? I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  Misha pitched her voice lower and gave him a somewhat predatory grin. “I said, that maybe you should have bought me dinner first.”

  The doctor stared at her for several heartbeats, then his eyes widened in alarm, and he blushed furiously. “Oh. Oh, no, you felt—”

  “Hell yeah I did,” said Misha, “None of your other patients were equipped with their own private nanite army, but when you took over mine, let’s just say it had some unintended side effects.” She winked at Rick and his blush deepened even further.

  “Enough,” said Omandi, “you two can compare nanites on your own time. Doctor Carpenter, can you please tell me the condition of my security officer?”

  “Uh, she should be fine now,” he replied shaking his head. “Misha and I both share a genetic enhancement that enables a symbiotic relationship with self-replicating embedded nanites. Hers are, for lack of a better description, hard wired to maintain health and vitality based on established medical constants. They operate autonomously and continuously.” The doctor opened his arms and gestured to himself. “My enhancement is slightly different. In addition to being able to sense damage in others, my sweat glands secrete nanites that I can control to repair specific damage based on my own direction.”

  Damien had been silently listening to Carpenter’s explanation as his gaze shifted from the doctor, to Misha, and back again. He noted how the flush had begun to recede from her face, and started laughing. “Oh, my. This is funny. I understand what happened. Since Misha has her own nanite flora, you took control of them didn’t you, Doc?”