The Carduchians turned to flee. Another boulder smashed into the ground some ways behind me. Men screamed as the resulting projectiles exploded outwards. A shard fell to the ground beside me, rolling several paces ahead. The rearguard general Xenophon shouted something I couldn’t hear.
I gripped the throwing strap of Kleon’s javelin, stopping to aim. I wound my arm back, threw the long projectile, and watched it sail through the air. The sharp tip found a target, burying itself in the back of a fleeing Carduchian’s leg. The young man dropped his sling as he went sprawling to the ground, bellowing. I started running again, watching as the disorganized Hellenes chased the harrying barbarians away.
When I caught up to my target, he was attempting to crawl away, dragging his right leg behind him, trailing blood on the ground. I grabbed the end of the javelin and pushed down on it. The young barbarian shouted in pain, no longer trying to crawl away. Supporting my weight on the javelin, I crouched down by him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been born of your people,” I said, talking in Persian in case he spoke it. The young man didn’t seem to understand. Another boulder fell into the pass somewhere further away, the ground vibrating beneath my feet, men shouting. “It’s strange to me that I could easily have been on your side of this conflict. My friend’s spear hit you in the same place one of your people hit him. I could have spent tonight lying by your side as you died, remembering past battles.”
The man stammered something in his unfamiliar language.
“It was only by accident of our birth that you and I ended up on different sides of this,” I said, still hearing shouts and cries of pain behind me, “or was it?” I shook my head, watching as the man struggled weakly to free himself, “I still don’t know. Being here, in this one world, seems as pointless as being in this forsaken mountain pass. But…what else is there to do? I do this because I have no choice.”
Xenophon came running back toward me with his hoplites, trying to catch back up to the disorganized column. The men gave me a strange look as they approached. I tore the javelin from the barbarian’s flesh.
“You die now only because I was born a Hellene rather than somewhere else,” I said, “so whose life was more meaningless?”
I thrust the point of the weapon down into the back of the man’s neck, feeling it crunch through bone, hitting the ground beneath. He choked, blood squirting from his mouth as I pulled the blade back out of his throat and rejoined the others in running back up the narrow pass toward the others.
Chapter 48
My breaths came out in little clouds as I helped Darren carry a large box down the driveway from his truck, my left-hand throbbing under the weight. It contained the chair for the new brain scanning instrumentation.
About a month had passed since we left Florida. Nobody chewed me out as much as I had anticipated about the Atlanta incident, but there was a noticeable subdued atmosphere.
Even Yukiko had seemed to notice, waddling over to us in her thick winter coat, a longing look on her face. We carried the box into the shed that Darren used to live in, each stopping in turn at the debugging device, the jets of air cold on my exposed skin. Yukiko ran to the back of the shed where Masaru was hooking up some of the electronics.
Akira and Masaru had come back down into the LoC to help set up the new lab after Laura and I drunkenly destroyed the previous one. Even Masaru looked pleased to be back amongst friends. He wouldn’t admit it, but Akira said it was him going stir crazy being alone out in the wilderness more than her. As a result, he took to traveling a lot, going on the road to do his podcast and go on other people’s shows.
While I had Akira in town, I wanted to have my brain examined to look at the implants Benecorp installed. I had Doctor Taylor help me find the top-of-the-line brain scanning instruments. We were now setting it up in the shed.
“Thanks,” Akira said without looking as Darren and I brought the box into the shed.
Akira was inside with Doctor Taylor and Aveena, the three women quiet as they went about hooking everything up.
Doctor Taylor had a gleam of sweat on her forehead despite the cold, her mousy face determined, gray hair pulled back into a pony tail, still wearing hospital scrubs. She had come right to the house in the morning after a night shift at the hospital.
Aveena was calibrating instruments, following protocols Doctor Taylor had sent. The transgenic’s bright pink eyes focused on the user interface in her ARs as she worked. Her neon pink hair flopped down over the right side of her head, brown roots showing. Her two lip rings, eyebrow ring, and nose ring were removed while working around the instrument’s powerful magnets, only a few plastic studs in her elven ears. She hadn’t bothered putting makeup on, making her look even younger than she was due to the puberty suppressing genes. Aveena had been staying at the house since I returned from the CSA, volunteering to become my part-time, unofficial lab technician. Her progress in setting up the lab was slow due to her active social life with the other transgenics.
Akira was working on the computer, installing software. Her tattoos were concealed under the old military bomber jacket, flair now sewn into it, as if she wanted to ensure it never went away again. I couldn’t help but notice how much she enjoyed setting up the lab. Even in the downcast mood of the group, she seemed at home. Yet I knew part of it was due to her brain implants. The optogenetics and direct current stimulation that helped quiet all the worries and regrets, depression and anxiety. Akira was essentially able to write her own personality.
With the three of them working together, the small shed was becoming another lab in itself, nearing completion. Cupboards and counters had been installed around the walls, further restricting walking space. Boxes that various computers and instruments arrived in lay on the counters, opened up. A space heater sat in the corner, working hard to keep the cold at bay.
After setting the box down, I examined my hand. Numbness had overtaken the middle and ring fingers, both vastly weakened from the gunshot wound, but it was slowly healing. The chromosome treatment helped move the process along fairly quickly.
Going back outside, I grabbed the pint bottle of Canadian whiskey from my coat pocket and undid the cap. Darren gave me a concerned look as we both started down the gravel driveway toward his truck. I took a mouthful of the liquor, swallowed quickly, wiped my mouth with my coat, and stowed the bottle back in my pocket.
“Imagine the cold probly flairs ‘er up somethin’ awful,” he said, watching me open and close my left hand.
“Heavy lifting was probably ill advised,” I said, following slowly down the driveway, shoes skidding over small stones.
“That firewater help?”
I shook my head. Darren got the hint.
“Shed needs some insulation,” he said, signaling over his shoulder, “thought about doin’ it while I was livin’ in there, but never got ‘round to it.”
I shrugged, “no use doing it anymore. Once we turn all that stuff on, it’ll probably warm right up in there, anyway.”
“Hm,” he said as we stopped at the end of the driveway. He took out a pack of cigarettes.
“So, is it strange?” I asked, putting my hands in my pockets.
“How’s that?”
“Being the happy one around here?”
“Things’re lookin’ up fer me,” he said, putting the cigarette between his lips, “gettin’ hitched. And now that Akira ain’t gaggin’ at the sighta me,” he lit a match, bringing it up to his cigarette, guarding it against the wind with his bionic hand, “I’ve graj’ated tuh mild contempt.”
“I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” I said, watching him savor the smoke, “she’s familiar with you. It doesn’t make anyone forget that you’ve sold children into slavery.”
Darren’s grin faded as he blew out smoke, “you reckon she’ll come tuh my weddin’?”
“You have to remember that you had Yuki in that trafficking house,” I said, “because I doubt Akira’s forgotten.”
; Darren was quiet for some time, looking down the road toward the neighboring house about a hundred yards away. His cigarette sat pinched between two fingers, burning without him taking a drag as he considered this.
“Who’m I kiddin’,” Darren finally said, “ain’t nobody gonna ever really thinka me as anything other’n a human trafficker.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Yuki probably won’t care once she grows up,” I said, giving Darren a slap on the back before heading back toward the shed.
As I walked, I took another quick drink of the whiskey. After putting it away, I could see Masaru peering around the corner of the shed. He was quite transparent when he had something he wanted to say.
God, I hope it’s not about the alcohol.
“Want to give me a hand?” Masaru asked when I got close.
“Sure,” I said and walked back over to him.
His cane was leaning against the wall. He stood without it, supporting most of his weight on the left leg. Yukiko stood by, her small, curious eyes looking up at the metal transformer mounted to the wall that Masaru was working on, snot dripping down from both her nostrils.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I need you to hand some screws to me,” he said, signaling to the toolbox.
I nodded, knowing he didn’t really need my help, but that he wanted to talk to me. I strode to his toolbox and picked up the screws sitting in one of the partitions and started handing them to him one-by-one.
“How are you holding up?” Masaru asked, keeping his eyes on the work.
“I’ve been worse,” I said.
“I know people have been giving you a hard time about the whole Atlanta thing,” Masaru said, “I hope you’re not getting too discouraged.”
“In the long, sad list of my fuckups, this one ranks fairly average.”
“Sometimes recent is worse than worst,” he said, “how much have you been drinking since Atlanta?”
“Not a lot.”
He took a deep breath. “I just want you to know that both Akira and I still believe in you, even if we’re not around anymore.”
“That’s good to know,” I said.
“I know you don’t want to hear it,” he said, “but t’d be better if you at least cooperated with Sachi’s people.” He paused a moment, waiting for me to responde, but I said nothing. He added, “whatever you do, I hope you don’t lose what makes you different from her.”
“I…I don’t plan on giving that up,” I said.
“Good,” Masaru said, sounding hesitant.
“Was there something else?”
“Yeah…” Masaru said, “I…talked with Laura.”
“Yeah?”
“She…said something about moving up there with us. To the Republic,” Masaru paused to wait for my reaction.
“I see.”
“Maybe just for a little while,” Masaru said quickly, “I think she needs to get away from all this for a while, you know?”
“I…understand.”
Masaru continued working for some time, neither of us saying anything. Laura’s words kept running through my head. The things I experienced in your mind…even death was not as dark.
“You know, I was thinking,” Masaru said, forcing a smile, “everyone’s been a little down lately. What do you think about having another little get together? Yuki’s birthday is coming up in a couple weeks. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, “I’m sure a lot of people could use that now after both Wichita and Atlanta.”
“Good,” Masaru smiled, taking the last screw from me, “we’ll come down to the LoC for it. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it a lot smaller than the quinceañera.”
I smiled back, “anything else?”
“No, that should be good for now,” Masaru said, “thanks for the help.”
“Of course,” I said, strolling back around to the front of the shed.
I opened the door and stepped through the air jets. Warmth hit me after the air jets were done, but it was still only sixty-five Fahrenheit inside. I went to work helping Doctor Taylor and Aveena in assembling the chair and setting it up in the center of the room, taking up even more space. I almost had to walk sideways to get around it, crammed between counters on the front and back walls.
We spent the better part of three hours getting it all setup and clearing some of the boxes out of the way. Akira admonished me when I took the bottle of whiskey out, saying it might screw up the data. She wanted me to sober up. I didn’t know if it would affect the scan or not, but I obliged anyway.
Every time I looked at the chair, with the brain scanning electrodes, two things kept coming to mind. The first was the hallucination I had when Doctor Taylor tried her transcranial magnetic stimulation. The shapes often came back into my thoughts, even more so now that I was becoming afflicted with migraines. Migraines that both Doctor Taylor and Akira agreed were almost certainly connected to the implant I’d been given in Atlanta, and one of the biggest reasons I was eager to have a look inside.
The other thing I couldn’t help thinking about was the warning Colburn had given me after the implant was put into my brain. Nobody is sure whether your implant might cause problems down the line, so we are going to test right away. Every time my split brain came back together in the last month, I was convinced the implant was going to scramble my brains. Luckily that hadn’t happened yet, but my right hemisphere still tried causing trouble. The day I arrived back in the LoC, I had a split-brain episode. My right hemisphere seemed to want revenge for shooting my left hand. While eating, my left hand stabbed my right with a fork. It had hurt bad and required stitches but didn’t cause too much damage.
Once the brain scanning instrumentation was setup, Akira, Masaru, Aveena and Doctor Taylor all stood in a tight circle around the chair for a few moments, admiring their work. There was still more to be done, but it was ready enough for the brain scan to be performed, which everyone was interested in seeing. After a few minutes, Masaru took a shivering Yukiko back to the house and I climbed into the chair. Doctor Taylor started hooking things up to me, Aveena handing her instruments she needed, while Akira worked on the computer to get all the programs running, her back turned to me.
“This instrument will allow us to get molecular resolution MRI images of the anatomy of your brain,” Doctor Taylor explained, “by pulsating focused magnetic fields like a combined three-dimensional carbon thirteen and nitrogen fifteen NMR. The computer will then be able to interpret the spin-spin coupling and the nuclear Overhauser effect and graphically reconstruct the aggregate molecular structures in your brain, giving a high-resolution distribution of different types of brain matter. We’ll also be able to see the architecture they implanted.”
“This won’t cause another hallucination?” I asked.
“After checking your hand this morning, Aveena and I tested your blood for the modified chemical,” Akira said, looking over her shoulder to exchange a glance with Doctor Taylor, who appeared skeptical. “There wasn’t any significant amount. About the level of background noise.”
“But what if this scan causes production of more?” I asked.
Akira turned around in the swivel chair, giving me a wry grin, “then we’ll know what causes the chemical to show up in the first place.”
I returned the grin, “ever the scientist. I just wish I wasn’t everybody’s guinea pig all the time.”
Akira had an apologetic look on her face when she turned back around, but said nothing. Doctor Taylor finished getting me hooked into everything.
“He should be ready,” she said.
“Excellent,” Akira said, “I’ll start the program.”
After a few keystrokes, Akira swiveled back around, all three women keeping their gazes firmly on me, waiting for something bizarre to happen. Brief panic came when ghostly shapes began appearing, dancing about my vision.
“I’m getting funny little flashes in front of my eyes,” I said.
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sp; “Phosphenes,” Akira said, “to be expected. The magnets are powerful enough to cause small shifts in the polarity of your neurons. After this, though, we’ll take a real-time look at the neural activity. Similar to the instrument I had in Mexico. Different neurotransmitters will show up as different colors on the monitor. This thing sends focused microwave pulses into your brain on a picosecond timescale and then reads the vibrational and rotational energy signatures given off the different neurotransmitters with extreme precision, watching for the differential of the bound and unbound molecules present. The computer then runs the data through an algorithm that gives me a color display.”
After a few minutes, the phosphenes went away. Akira was doing something on the computer for several moments before she moved a monitor to where I could see it. Doctor Taylor stepped beside her and looked at the monitor, both women huddled around excitedly. Aveena stayed by my side, raising her eyebrows, signaling to the two of them and smiling.
“The architecture is amazing,” Doctor Taylor said, “I can already see that it’s extended throughout cortex.”
“I don’t see it,” I shrugged.
“You can see these lines,” Akira pointed her finger at some lines going through my brain, the colorful tattoos on her wrist peeking out of the coat sleeve as she talked excitedly, “these are not the same density as brain tissue. Pretty much what we expected. The same polymer they used for Laura. I was able to get a sample from Laura’s implant. It’s a programmable smart polymer that can slowly spread from the point of implantation on its own, to make the surgery much less invasive. They probably only had to punch a small hole through your skull.”
“For like four days after they went into my head, everything was completely screwed up,” I said, “My movements, my vision, my thinking. Everything.”
“I’m not surprised,” Akira said, “growing polymers are not too uncommon, but they usually just grow through a particular cavity or substance. But this polymer has functional units attached that can autocatalyze the breaking and forming of bonds in a topoisomerase action, as well as simple movements of polymer strands similar to actin dependent motor proteins. This allows movement of the polymer chains, as well as alignment. Once the high energy molecules dissolved in the polymer are used up, the polymer solidifies and stays in that shape.”
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