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Analog Science Fiction and Fact Page 44

by January February 2018 (pdf)


  way from one system to another, under a vari-

  superficially happy people have a tightness to

  ety of names and faces, linked in this waltz of

  them that seems more appropriate to societies

  love and hate.

  teeming with prisons and gulags. Draiken has

  As they work their way from one painstak-

  been to enough of those to sense that right

  ingly obtained scrap of intelligence to another.

  away, but the trap door he already suspects

  As they work their way back to the puppet

  hidden in this place must be well-guarded, for

  masters who made them both what they are.

  he catches no other sign of it.

  He and Thorne check into a hotel sitting on

  By the time they reach a cylinder world

  a device designed to roll it to and fro in a man-

  named Liberty, constructed to take advantage

  ner that simulates a healthy ocean chop, from

  of a perfectly congenial star that somehow sur-

  some world with seas; he does not know how

  vived its evolution without acquiring any plan-

  much comfort she’s able to take in such a

  ets of note, they have taken on the appearance

  place, but for the man who’s spent decades of

  of a young man and young woman.

  his life fishing under a tropical sun, it’s as good

  Thorne designed their latest bodies and,

  as home. He spends hours on the balcony,

  though kind enough to provide him with peak

  overlooking a holographic ocean with storm

  f itness, had exercised substantial sarcasm

  clouds gathering on the horizon, breathing in

  when choosing their respective appearances.

  a f irst-rate chemical reconstitution of salty

  For herself she chose from the ancestral

  brine; not Greeve’s specif ic mixture of ele-

  African palette, giving herself deep brown

  ments, but it was close. She spends the night

  eyes and a complexion so dark that it seems to

  locked in the head, though whether from sea-

  absorb available light, a sharp contrast with the

  sickness or one of her black moods is not

  complexion she gives him, one so milky-pale it

  something he’s able to figure out.

  crosses the borders of albinism. She gave her-

  The next morning, they visit a little cottage

  self a f ierce gaze and him watery eyes. She

  beneath a curving sky, the checkerboard pas-

  looks regal, like a goddess; he, more like an

  tures of the habitat’s agricultural quadrant

  162

  ADAM-TROY CASTRO

  JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2018

  forming a lattice far above his head. The

  Silver grins. “I am more fortunate. I die be-

  wheel’s been built to rotate without a central

  cause it’s something I’ve decided to experi-

  hub, and so the altitude layer between the

  ence.”

  lands where the occupant of the cottage lives

  Thorne’s hatred for the old man is like a sea

  and that distant farmland is empty but for the

  threatening to overf low the walls erected to

  specks of fun-seekers in winged suits doing ac-

  contain it. “I would have been happy to

  robatics in the zone of low-g.

  arrange it for you at any time.”

  Thorne has led them to the man they’ve

  “A slit throat,” the old man twinkles. “A pro-

  come to visit, Silver. He is not much older than

  jectile through the skull. Some bot armed with

  they are, but for reasons of his own has decid-

  blades reducing this corpus to cubes of neatly

  ed to show his years. Unrejuvenated, he’s thus

  stacked meat. Even explosive decompression

  lived past the point where his body might have

  or incineration. These are all things I could

  been better off listening to entropy’s demands

  have had, a million times over, all by the single

  that it just fail and die already. He sits hunched

  expedient of eschewing any attempt at surviv-

  in a hoverchair, licking his withered lips while

  ing the fates my enemies would have chosen

  peering at his visitors through clouded eyes

  for me. That kind of death I have approached

  lined with blood-red rims. The eyes have sur-

  any number of times, and once or twice, de-

  rendered to their inevitable decay, becoming

  pending on your precise def inition, even ex-

  biologically blind, but he still sees perfectly,

  perienced. I’ve been brought back from the

  through nano-cameras that manifest as red dots

  brink any number of times, not always willing-

  f loating a millimeter above his unseeing

  ly. But the inexorable, marching decrepitude

  pupils. He speaks perfectly too. His body has

  that once all men and women faced as a possi-

  no voice other than a pathetic wheeze, but the

  ble future? That I have never faced—and I con-

  simulated baritone of his vocal prosthetic rings

  fess that the more I evaded all other

  with a presence more appropriate for the live

  possibilities, the more fascinating I found it. Do

  stage.

  you know what happens to time, when a man

  Knowing their mission, Silver has refused to

  can feel his life-force flake away and peel off ?

  meet them except in the presence of an at-

  Amazing things. Downright intoxicating

  tending bodyguard, who he’s introduced, with

  things.”

  some humor, as Edif ice. Between them,

  Draiken asks, “What about the pain?”

  Draiken and Thorne would normally be confi-

  “Pain was offered as an option. I took on a

  dent about being able to take out any merce-

  single day’s worth, just to see what it was like.

  nary, but Edif ice gives them pause: she’s a

  The answer was of course ghastly. I said that I

  towering monolith of a woman, well over sev-

  would choose to wither and die without it. No,

  en feet tall, with arms that cross over the chest

  my friend; I assure you I’m quite comfortable.”

  like pythons locked in a battle to the death.

  “That’s too bad,” says Thorne.

  Her default expression establishes that it mat-

  Her hostility makes perfect sense. She’s ex-

  ters little to her whether she continues to

  plained to Draiken that Silver was, many years

  stand by her charge’s side, saying nothing, or

  ago, her jailer and torturer. Once upon a time,

  lurches into action to break the bones of any-

  alliances had shifted and she had found herself

  one foolish enough to threaten him.

  abandoned on ground where she’d counted on

  Draiken has encountered and occasionally

  being protected; what had ensued for her was

  even beaten thugs her size, not without taking

  months of incarceration under Silver’s control,

  damage himself. He would, if necessary, at-

  enduring attempts to shift her loyalties by

  tempt it again, but who knows what enhance-

  every means of
psychological torment at his

  ments this behemoth has? It’s wiser to refrain,

  disposal. What she experienced was very simi-

  so he does.

  lar to what Draiken had once endured in an-

  Silver explains his condition with a simple,

  other facility, but he’s always sensed, from the

  “I’ve decided to try dying.”

  broken being she is, that she came much clos-

  “Interesting,” says Draiken. “Most people

  er to personal destruction than he ever did.

  don’t treat that as a lifestyle choice. Most of the

  What’s most ironic is this: though they spent

  people whose lives you’ve destroyed weren’t

  much of their careers working for what they’d

  offered other options.”

  imagined different sides, the politics of the era

  BLURRED LIVES

  163

  ANALOG

  had been so f luid that they still have no idea

  cated to go into, it became necessary to turn a

  whether their respective imprisonments repre-

  dedicated mother of three, wife of a man who

  sented the malice of two opposing blocs, or

  opposed our political agenda, against their

  just one.

  young children. She entered our treatment

  Silver must have the answer. But though he’s

  center a sweet woman devoted to their happi-

  agreed to see them, after the bartering of

  ness, indulgent of their whims, and f iercely

  much proof that they are the people they pro-

  protective of any perceived threat to their well-

  fess to be, this is not among the intelligence

  being. A few weeks of dedicated therapy later,

  that he’s agreed to share.

  a little adjustment to her perceptions and

  “Your problem, my friends, is that you seek

  moral referents, and she left us dedicated to

  the wrong thing. You want the specific people

  the proposition that they were hateful vermin

  who once opened up your heads and attempt-

  and that every ounce of joy and self-respect in

  ed to tinker with what they found inside,

  their little lives was a contagion to be eradicat-

  when in fact many of them have died or

  ed with unrestrained mental cruelty, never to

  moved on to the other things. For the most

  be inflicted where their father could witness it.

  part, they are beyond your justice. In most cas-

  He never learned of this sabotage. But his life,

  es, you cannot even have the specific organi-

  as he’d known it, had been subtly destroyed.

  zations, when so much time has passed that

  “Ah, what wreckage had manifested by the

  the governments they represented have either

  time they were grown!”

  fallen or been subsumed into others. Their

  Draiken comes damned close to breaking

  heirs operate within an entirely separate set of

  the man’s withered neck with a single blow.

  borders now. You can damage them, I sup-

  Only the knowledge that this is likely the reac-

  pose; perhaps even stop one or two. But per-

  tion Silver wants stays Draiken’s hand, and like-

  sonal satisfaction, of a lasting kind, is not in

  ly Thorne’s. They need more from this man.

  your future and not worth seeking. It’s also ir-

  “Alas,” Silver continues, “our power was not

  relevant.”

  wholly reliable. It was limited by factors that in-

  “Fine,” says Draiken, over Thorne’s visible, if

  cluded the talent certain subjects possessed for

  silent, objections. “What is relevant?”

  resistance. You two, for instance. You both left

  “Well, let us put it this way: The history of

  your respective periods of imprisonment,

  Mankind has long been an exercise in power-

  changed only to the degree you allowed your-

  ful people exploiting the malleable nature of

  selves to be.

  human perception to manipulate the teeming

  “But now, ah, now. The state of the art, as

  masses into acting against their own interests.

  pursued by multiple savants, has advanced to

  It’s always been possible to get individuals or

  the point where it might as well be a star drive

  entire populations to perceive the world in a

  compared to our old first-generation internal-

  manner that defies the direct evidence of their

  combustion engine.”

  own senses, in a manner rewarding those who

  Thorne’s reply is low and dangerous. “Such

  control the agenda: mind-control, for lack of a

  as.”

  better phrase, though for much of the exis-

  “Well, it takes differing forms, depending on

  tence of our species it has always been accom-

  the starting premises of the research. I’ll name

  plished through inexact tools like childhood

  one. On Xana, homeworld of the Bettelhine

  indoctrination, religion, peer pressure, adver-

  Munitions Corporation, there’s a woman cur-

  tising, military training, and, as in your respec-

  rently calling herself Dina Pearlman who has

  tive cases, the specif ic use of psychological

  developed a method of altering the pleasure

  torture.

  centers in the human brain, to instill upon crit-

  “Suff iciently advanced use of such tech-

  ical employees a fierce loyalty that utterly sub-

  niques is capable of molding people into en-

  merges any countering impulses like dignity,

  tirely new beings, capable of cheerfully

  personal ambitions, aesthetic preferences, or

  betraying what once they would have defend-

  what have you. The result, fiercely guarded by

  ed with every ounce of will.

  the Bettelhines, is a means of creating slaves

  “When it works, it’s really quite marvelous

  who find delight in obeying orders, no matter

  to witness. I remember, for instance, a case

  how demeaning. This is, incidentally, where I

  where, for reasons that would be too compli-

  found and, for lack of a better word, purchased

  164

  ADAM-TROY CASTRO

  JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2018

  my dear Edifice; on that world she was once a

  they engage in frenzied debate over how best

  celebrated athlete, competing for her own glo-

  to follow through. Part of the journey takes

  ry, but she made the mistake of acquiring

  place on local public transportation and none

  debts that she could not pay, and now she hon-

  of the riders with them see that they know

  estly has no concerns in life other than my

  each other, let alone that they’re conversing.

  well-being, and no source of satisfaction other

  They speak in what is not quite telepathy, not

  than my kind approval. If I told her to start

  quite subverbal communication via hytex:

  chewing on her fingertips and work her way

  rather, via a series of highly subtle microex-

  as far up her right arm as she could, before

  pressions carryi
ng compressed information

  passing out from blood loss, I assure you in full

  that they each decode by means of an algo-

  conf idence that she would. Is this not right,

  rithm running on real-time neural implant. It is

  Edifice?”

  a painful and unnatural exchange that they en-

  “You’ve got it, boss,” says Edifice.

  dure only because they know they are in the

  “You would comply if I asked you to do that,

  stronghold of their enemy and must be under

  would you not?”

  constant surveillance.

  “It’s my place,” Edifice replies.

  Translated, she asks him: “Do you know the

  Thorne shakes her head, sickened. “Charm-

  difference between us?”

  ing.”

  Translated, he replies: “I count several.”

  “There are other approaches,” Silver contin-

  “The key difference, then. I left all this be-

  ues. Now he commences ticking off examples

  hind. I knew that human civilization was run

  on his f ingers. “We have learned through an-

  by corrupt shits. I had no further need to serve

  other source, highly classified, of a technique

  them but also no faith in ever being able to

  known to a minor and now quarantined race

  find justice. I was happy to live out my years

  called the Caithiriin; another, only used among

  isolated in my pod. You’ve dragged me back to

  their own, to the Riirgaans. Rumors have come

  the world and to the wars, and out of perversi-

  to my ears of even more advanced techniques

  ty I followed you, but I find that I can do with-

  among the AIsource, and of other, lesser pro-

  out closure.”

  jects being pursued, here and there.

  “You can leave if you’d like. You’ve done

  “The genie is out of the bottle, my friends.

  more than enough, just getting me this far.”

  The powers that work on perfecting the trick

  Her eyes flare with hurt and rage. “And you

  are too numerous for even a couple of deter-

  don’t have to try this hard to be a bastard.”

  mined old killers like yourselves to ever incon-

  “I never misled you about how far I wanted

  venience. It’s like being a pacifist and striving

  to take this.”

  to end all war; a commendable cause, but one

  “You’ve also never had anything to pay me

  too large for the most well-meaning efforts of

  with except money—and that I only accepted

  even the most accomplished pacif ist. You

  before you revealed who you were. And yet,

 

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