by Jeff Wheeler
Grandfather’s interruption was timid. “How did you know that your mind would be lost, but could be recovered?”
I willed myself to continue as I felt the surging pressure of more cells attacking me with purpose. Pulling my limbs close to allow passage through the artery, I wished I was closer to my destination. “That was the most difficult part of my coding. Many failed experiments on cloned mice showed that behaviors taught to the creatures were lost upon shrinking. Any time a substantial modification of DNA took place, the memories and cognitive process were disrupted. Ultimately, I turned to the field of neuropsychology for the answer. That’s also the path that led me to the protocols. I found that if the subject was prepared ahead of time, with a series of keys and prompts that connected to specific memories, the mental recovery was not only possible, but accelerated. This became readily apparent with the first human testing in New Zealand. Our first hobbit took months to recover his memories. I knew that shrinking a person down to the size of an insect, or smaller, would cause far greater trauma to the mind.”
“And, you knew it was likely the subject would be confused about where it was and perhaps even who it was?”
“Yes. The first hobbit, believed he was actually a hobbit in Tolkien’s Middle-earth. I suppose he was so obsessed with the writing, that when he was transformed, his restructured mind created a reality that made sense. I had no idea I would think I was an astronaut, but I knew I would not likely be myself when I woke up. One thing I do not know is how long it has been since I initiated my transformation.”
The cells jammed against me, dying, clogging the pathway ahead. This was dangerous, not only for me, but for Grandfather as well. If I did not reach my destination, his immune system might kill me and block an essential artery in the process. Spinning to create space, I looked down, hoping to find a means of propulsion. I kicked my legs and found they were limber and chuck full of fast twitch fibers. I lurched ahead, clearing my path.
Grandfather felt my anxiety. “What is happening, Levi? What’s wrong?”
I lied. “Just a minor hitch on my transportation, Grandfather. No need to worry. Please go on.”
Grandfather’s tone sounded unconvinced, but he continued. “One week. I would have appreciated a little more warning and preparation for what was happening, Levi. You only spent one day with me to explain what you were doing and obtain my consent. Were you worried that I would change my mind?”
I was swimming like I had a propeller in my legs, but the white cells seemed like an endless curtain ahead of me. At least I was making progress. “Not really. I was more worried about the safety of my technology. I have all of the programming bio-locked in my computer. Nobody but me can access everything, but I still worried that others would try. Grandfather, the possible applications for this technology are endless, and many of them are very dangerous.”
“You didn’t tell me that your programs, formulas, data, etc. were all locked away on your device!” Grandfather’s tone was heated. For him, that was unusual – about as common as a rabbit playing harmonica.
“I do not trust others with this technology until I am able to secure accords regarding the ethics to govern its use.” The curtain in front of me thickened and I began to slow. I did not want to damage any more cells, but if I stopped, I would have no other option.
“Something’s not right, Levi. Your heartrate is a snare drum.”
I was about to lie again, to keep him calm, but then it hit me. I needed more pressure. “Grandfather, your white blood cells are attacking me, and threatening to stop me altogether.” I let my mind apprehend the pain my body was feeling and share a portion of it with Grandfather. Behind me, a wave of pressure built and I surged through the blockage. “That’s it, Grandfather, don’t get too upset. But, your blood pressure is keeping me going.”
“I’m not done arguing with you about your decision to keep the programming secret. What if you had not awoken, Levi? I would have had no chance to restore you if I could not have gotten into your computer! You would have been lost forever!”
I laughed. “Some scientist you are, Grandfather. I have discovered the solution to the greatest dilemma facing humanity – technology that may save billions of people, but you worry over the loss of one life.”
“That’s because I love you.”
The sincerity of his words hit me like a bowling ball to the gut. I think I may have cried if I had tear ducts. I hoped I was getting close as I was beginning to slow again. “Grandfather, if I had not awoken and recovered my mind, I would not have been able to be saved. The only way to restore me fully is to reach your neurotransmitter at the base of your brainstem, and connect to your computer, then through it access my own computer. I was able to program into the DNA the basic ability to communicate with my host neurologically, but to transmit a connection to a computer still requires a bit of hardware. When I shrunk, my neurotransmitter was left behind.
“That was why it was essential that I develop protocols that I could use as keys to unlock the doors to portions of my memories, but which would allow me to make those mental connections myself. Had you tried to simply tell me everything, my mind would likely have rejected it – like when I believed you were AI. The most successful way to restore the memories and intellect was to pre-program the brain and allow it to heal on its own with a progression of triggers to stimulate the recovery.” Within a cluster of white blood cells, I neared the Circle of Willis Artery, and quickly sped to the brainstem.
“Levi, you said before that you solved the space exploration/alternate world approach with this technology. How is that possible?”
“Now, this is where my withholding of the program files was perhaps a bit selfish. As a condition of me making all of my work available, I will negotiate a place on the first mission to colonize another world. I solved their biggest remaining problem. The first problem was the amount of time and fuel it would take to reach another planet. With genetic modification, aging is not a problem. Explorers now live the hundreds or thousands of years it will take to reach whichever world we decide to colonize. The renewable fuels, and conversion from the gasses, and radiation in space will provide the means to travel, but the space required to feed, hydrate and otherwise sustain a crew were insurmountable problems. Even if the crew were all put in stasis, the equipment needed to maintain stasis would be substantial, and the possibility that the crew would not be recoverable after being in stasis so long is a real concern.
“Yet, if the crew is shrunk down to the size of viruses, all can ride in one pilot, the plasma needed to restore the matter of the body can be incorporated into the structure of the ship, which would protect it from excessive radiation and extreme temperatures in space. More importantly, the computer modeling will allow the atmosphere of the new planet to be analyzed and the data calculated to allow the crew to be restored to a form genetically modified to live in that atmosphere.”
I approached the neurotransmitter at the base of Grandfather’s spinal cord, but could not get to it without fighting through an army of white cells and more of the lumpy duffel bags with millipede legs. Time was fleeting and options few. I channeled my inner Bruce Lee and whirred into motion, slicing through the first wave of cells and launching myself forward. Progress was slow and very painful. I imagined myself wading to shore in Australia through scores of box jellyfish. Somehow, I reached the transmitter and latched onto it. Once I touched it, I could feel the connection to his computer. I realized how much I had missed the connection to my own. Forcing the pain of the onslaught to the back of my mind, I connected to my own computer. Like a robotic octopus with nitro-fueled limbs, my mental probes clicked through the biolocks and coding to the regeneration program, and found it waiting to be executed with a simple command. Through the camera on my computer I could see Grandfather standing in my lab before a tub of pink plasma. He turned and sat in the chair. I was about to start the sequencing that would transmit the restoration code to my DNA.
G
randfather’s tone was concerned, “I am feeling a lot of pain through the link and my own head. Are you there yet?”
“Yes, it’s nearly over.”
“If my body attacks you when you enter, the test is still a failure is it not?”
I sighed. “If something goes awry in my restoration, my computer is now unlocked and the programs are available. I’m confident we can counter the immune system by coating me with a layer of the host human DNA. Then, the body will perceive the small intruder as tissue from the host. I worried that this might be a problem, but I did not want to add too many variables to the programming.”
“Always seven steps ahead, Levi.”
“I need to tell you two more things before I start the program. Grandfather, I love you; and I am very grateful you agreed to help me with this test.”
I clicked start.
Grandfather continued. “So, when do you think you are going to leave me for that long space journey?” The sadness had returned to his voice.
“Who said anything about leaving you behind? One of my terms will be that you are part of the team.”
“But I’m not a pilot.”
I chuckled, and it still sounded metallic and odd. “You aren’t, but by the time we leave, I will be. You get to do the downsizing next time.”
Grandfather started to argue, but the sequence kicked in and I began to grow. I slipped through the port at the base of grandfather’s skull, ready to land in the tub of plasma. That kind of convincing would require a face-to-face conversation.
About Brendon Taylor
Brendon is an attorney during the workweek, a writer when he can find time, a food and camping enthusiast often, a frustrated Miami Dolphins fan each fall, and a loving husband and father all of the time. He has been at Merrill & Merrill, chartered in Pocatello, Idaho, since he became an attorney in 1999, after graduating from Washburn Law School in Topeka, Kansas. He was an original founder of Deep Magic in 2002 and has written many articles, short stories and contracts since its inception.
HER GLIMMERING FACADE
By Eleanor R. Wood | 6,000 words
MY AUNT TOSHIKO disappeared two days after my wedding. She was beaming at the ceremony, seated beside my parents at the banquet, hugging my beautiful bride and welcoming her to the family. She waved us off on our honeymoon, cheeks flushed with champagne, her glossy black hair trailing from its bun. It was the last time I saw her.
Gia and I spent ten days basking in the glow of love and warm pearlescent beaches. Until I saw the lavender seas of Pathos 5 for myself, I didn’t believe the brochures. We stayed in a beachfront chalet overlooking a bay ringed by teal-forested mountains. Bright parrot lizards perched in the trees, lending their colour to the vista’s rainbow palette. We ate spicy fruits and fresh seafood and watched psychedelic sunsets. Gia taught me yoga; I taught her to surf.
Dad picked us up from the spaceport. He smiled and hugged us, but with quiet tension. He let us tell him about our holiday before he brought us fully back to Earth with his news.
“I hate to spoil your mood so soon, Carlos.” He threw me a sad glance from the driver’s seat. “Ma and I didn’t want to worry you on your honeymoon. But it’s Toshiko. She’s missing.”
“What do you mean, ‘missing’?” Gia asked over my perplexed silence.
“No one’s seen her in over a week. She’s not home. Her car’s outside. Her purse and phone are still in the house.”
I found my tongue. “Are you saying she’s been abducted or something?”
Gia squeezed my hand, in fear or reassurance.
“We just don’t know. The police haven’t found anything unusual. They’ve traced her last known movements, and nothing seems out of the ordinary. We’re just waiting for news. Any news.”
The honeymoon glow was already a fading memory. While my wife and I had been on an exotic planet, captivated by each other and its surreal beauty, tragedy had befallen my family. Toshiko wasn’t my aunt by blood. She was my mother’s dearest friend, and I’d called her “Aunt” my whole life. She’d always been there for me, in her warm, levelheaded way. She used to take me to basketball practice, let me hang out at her place after school, listen to my woes about unrequited crushes. She’d encouraged me to study engineering. She’d introduced me to Gia.
“How’s Ma?” I could imagine her anxiety.
“Much as we’ve all been. Searching. Alerting missing persons sites. Uploading posters. Worrying for her friend. But she can’t wait to see you.” He smiled at me in the rearview mirror, but I couldn’t smile back.
“You okay, bear?” Gia asked me, caressing my palm the way she did when she was worried. Sorrow had replaced the joy in her green eyes.
I put my arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
Dad took the skyway route—more traffic than the road, but faster. When he pulled up at home, Ma was sitting on the front porch, book in her hand as ever, beside a jug of blackberry wine and a tray of snacks to welcome us. She threw her arms around Gia and me in turn.
“How was your honeymoon, my loves?”
We smiled and told her of the wonders we’d seen, but I was distracted. Gia sensed my impatience and took Dad aside to show him our photos so I could sit with Ma.
“Dad told us about Aunt Toshiko.”
Ma’s face fell, and she reached for my hand. “There’s been nothing, Carlos. No news at all. Not even a hint as to where she’s gone. It’s as if she vanished into thin air.” I heard the hitch in her voice.
“Have the police spoken to her family?” She had few relatives, but her elderly uncle lived nearby and she had a brother in Japan.
“They haven’t heard from her. Her poor uncle’s fraught with worry. I feel so helpless. I can’t think of anything else to do ...” She broke down in tears and I held her, feeling numb.
I visited Toshiko’s house the next day. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Her hanging baskets decorated the cottage with clusters of colour and bustling aromas, while her roses bloomed red, pink, and orange in their beds below. I stood before her front door and had to believe it was all a mistake. Surely she was inside, preparing food or weaving on her loom or designing some miraculous technology to be shared only when she’d got it just right?
But when I let myself in, the house was silent. Only the ticking of her clocks broke the stillness, like tiny ripples on a pond. I walked through the rooms, watering her neglected bonsai and picking up fallen petals from an orchid. Her rear garden was as lush and bright as the front, but she wasn’t sitting at her patio table calculating ratios or pruning potted trees. Her absence rang loud in the silence. I opened her patio doors and let in the sounds of birdsong she couldn’t hear, and I finally knew that she was gone.
I let the dread wash over me. Every memory I had of Toshiko assailed me at that moment. I longed for her to breeze through the door and laugh at our foolish worries. After a while, I longed for her to appear so I could chastise her for terrifying us all. But I knew she would never do that to us, and my tears flowed with fear that she might never come back.
My phone chimed. When I answered, Gia looked up at me from the screen and halted whatever she’d been about to say.
“Oh, bear. Don’t do this to yourself. Come home?”
I wiped my face with one hand. “I’m coming back now.”
“Good. I love you.” She smiled sadly and hung up.
As I locked the front door, a wave of dizziness hit me. I stumbled against the porch frame and struggled to get my bearings as the world whirled about my head. It passed after a moment, leaving me light-headed. By the time I got home, I was ravenous.
“It’s just the shock and worry,” Gia assured me as she cleared away the supper dishes. “Have an early night and see how you feel tomorrow.”
I kissed her and apologised for not helping clean up. Sleep sounded great. I dozed off wondering why I still felt as though I hadn’t eaten in days.
* * *
“Sorry to hear you’re not f
eeling too good, sport.” Dad looked concerned.
“Probably just something I picked up on the trip home. Space flights are basically germ dispensaries, right?”
“Plenty of bed rest!” I heard Ma’s voice from the background. Dad pointed his phone at her, and I had a glimpse of her shaking a finger at me before he came back on screen. I had to smile.
“The police want to speak to Gia and me. Apparently, we’re the only ones from the wedding they haven’t interviewed yet.”
“Well, it was the last occasion Toshiko attended. They’re trying any lead available.”
“I know. It makes sense. They might come by today, although I’ve told them I’m not feeling great. I’m sure we’ve got nothing new to tell them, but everything helps, I guess.”
“You bet. Heard you went by her house yesterday.”
“Yeah.” I closed my eyes against a new onslaught of vertigo. “Yeah, that was tough. Had to see for myself, though, you know?”
“I know. Listen, bud, you look pale. Get some rest. We’ll talk again later.”
I waved good-bye and bent my head between my knees, fighting unconsciousness. I lost and blacked out.
