by R E Kearney
Robert’s mouth drops open. He is stunned by Dame’s proclamation and totally unprepared to fulfill her demands. “But, I’m here and they’re there. And, what about the other women…the surrogates…their birth mothers? Certainly, they would be better nurturers than me.”
“When they cut their umbilical cords, they cut their ties to these children.” The voice of Dame Gutefrau arises from somewhere outside the view of the photophoretic-trap recorder.
“Special children require…no demand, special care…and these are very, very special children.” As she approaches Pion’s position, Dame’s voice grows clearer.
Being careful not to touch Pion or invade her space, Dame appears behind her. “Besides, the SPEA women who volunteered their wombs to carry the embryos to term…the embryos Shengwu created from you…did not volunteer to be their mothers. They did not agree, and I certainly did not ask them, to toss away their plans, their careers and their dreams and dedicate the rest of their lives to rearing a child to whom they have absolutely no relationship.”
Balking, Robert shakes his head in dissension. “Now wait, what about Shengwu? After all, she’s responsible…”
“She must stay in Puerto Rico, but that does not matter. Physiologically and psychologically, Shengwu is capable of creating children, but not capable of caring for them. So, Robert, by default…by genome editing…through no choice of your own, really...you are the one and only true parent for these twelve, transhuman toddlers.” Dame begins to step away, but stops and returns. “And that’s why Shengwu edited your RNA, ensuring you are capable of living another one hundred and fifty years. So, you will be here to father them for a long, long, long…time. Poppa.”
“But, not by myself. Pion will continue leading the way, won’t she? I’m not doing this alone?” Trepidation etches Robert’s face.
Dame motions with her hands for Robert to remain calm. “Yes, my plan is that Pion continues. I am entrusting Pion with developing and training the mental processes of…of…I hesitate to say it, but possibly a new human species...perhaps, humanity’s future. Because by being autistic, she will encourage your special children to grow up without the usual pressures and stresses that neurotypical parents can unknowingly subject their children to.”
Motioning toward herself, Dame relates her personal reasons. “Because, Robert, I lived the painful experience growing up different, myself. My parents tried to force me to be normal and to conform. They tried to force me to socialize, eat normally, behave normally. It was terrible: I grew up in fear and trauma. I do not want these children to suffer as I did and I trust Pion will ensure that they will not.”
“But, what shall I do?” Robert shrugs his shoulders. “What can I do? I’m not there. I can’t be there. People are starving. If I don’t hunt down the criminals behind Limos Lives, thousands could die.”
Dame frowns with disgust. “Oh, Robert, you know as well as I do that love is all about chemistry and nanotechnology. Leave it to us. All we have to do is tickle the correct part of their amygdala with a nano-electric spark at the prime time and they will adore you forever. Then you mind meld, as often as possible until you become a major part of their neocortex. Be there for them and they will be there for you. You must become as one. United, you will thrive and survive.”
“So, your plan is to shine a light on some of their specific neurons according to MIT’s optogenetics and, voila, I become father of the year?” Robert quips with disbelief.
“That’s our plan my man. I am entrusting you to help them develop humanness – empathy, emotions and divergent thinking abilities.” Unexpectedly, the normally, serious Dame jokingly scolds him. “Oh…and Robert…absolutely no more syntho vino-outs. When you drink now, you’re not just drinking for yourself. You’re drinking for a dozen drastically underage children - simultaneously contributing to the delinquency of many minors. That’s a hangover headache none of us needs.”
MEMORY LOSS
Allie Hooya is dead. Suicide or murder or murder-suicide or murder to facilitate suicide, nobody knows. Allie and nineteen more dead humans lying in puddled brains and blood are discovered in an apartment in central Paris. Police Nationale answering a concerned citizen’s summons found the twenty bodies in a circle on the apartment floor. The right hand of each corpse is glued to the grip of a pneumatic pistol pointed toward the crater in the next victim’s skull.
Parisian judicial police investigating the suspicious deaths immediately locked down the apartment. They sealed the scene for security and silence. No external communications are allowed as the six member Brigade Criminelle under the supervision of their chef de groupe, cyborg Lea Chercheur and Commissaire, Pierre Veneur search for reasons for the bizarre, mass-murder-suicide.
“I must tell you that I find this grisly mess mystifying, Lieutenant Chercheur. I suppose it is a cult. Why do you think they killed each other in this manner?” Commissaire Veneur inquires as he squats near Allie’s shattered skull. “It’s inexplicable. If they all wanted to die simultaneously, then why didn’t they drink poison? That’s what cults do. So much easier and far less mess.”
Thoughtfully, sampling the room’s air with her left index finger, Lieutenant Chercheur silently studies the string of bodies through her spectrographic analysis visor. She bends over the head of a man for a closer analysis. She twists her head left and right, forward and back, so her cyber analytics system captures and considers each and every possible clue. Standing, she observes the other members of her Brigade Criminelle as they carefully measure and record bits and pieces of the scene.
After several minutes of careful consideration, Chercheur shares her thoughts. “Commissaire, I do not believe these individuals were seeking death as much as they were seeking demolition of self. They wanted to destroy their entity…their beings…their memories. We will need to conduct more analysis in the lab, of course. But, my field tests indicate that they simultaneously shot each other with explosive pellets…”
“…to scramble their neocortex and their limbic system, so we can’t recreate it!” Veneur claps his hands together with glee. “Incroyable! That’s what I’ve been thinking all along. Do you agree with me?”
“Oui, Commissaire.” Dutifully, Chercheur appropriately responds. “Also intriguing, my facial recognition identifies thirteen of the twenty victims as being of FUS origin. Expats employed by Association Agricole Urbane in their Ile-de-France vertical farms.”
“Commissaire! I have found a declaration.” Shouts a Brigade Criminelle member pointing toward thirteen words scrawled on the floor in blood.
Human time is done
Tyranny of machines is come
Death is our savior
CONFESSIONS
Morning arrives mean and menacing at AAU’s Parisian banana farm. Croyant, Mefiant and Honnete are worriedly waiting outside the AAU rooftop reflection room. They have been fidgeting together for an hour, questioning each other as to why they were ordered here. Robert arrives late, very late, and of a bristly mind. Lack of sleep, a throbbing, bruised shoulder and a flood of toddler thoughts bake his aching brain.
“Where are Grote and Allie? They were scheduled to talk to me before I interview you three.” Robert gruffly demands. Because of her drone attack, he is certainly not surprised that Allie is missing. However, he did expect to see Grote. He wonders if Grote and Allie were conspiring together.
Croyant, Mefiant and Honnete blankly glance at each other. Silently, they simultaneously shrug their shoulders toward Robert. Vacuous expressions grip their faces. They are innocently ignorant.
After vacantly gaping at each other for several seconds, Honnete clears her throat. “Yesterday, Grote instructed us to come here. We don’t know where they are. Actually, we don’t know why we’re here or who you are, either. Who are you, anyway?”
Vigorously massaging his forehead in an attempt to silence his neocortex and erase his throbbing headache, Robert explains himself. “My name is Robert Go
odfellow. I’m a cybercrime investigator from the Society Preserving Endangered Agriculture. You may know us as your AAU partner, SPEA. Anyway, I’m here investigating the multiple capital crimes against humanity of food crop tampering and destruction occurring in this and all of the other Ile-de-France AAU vertical farms.”
Shocked and stunned looks contort their three faces. Croyant nervously clears his throat. Tapping his right index finger against his lips, he swallows hard as he begins stammering. “P…p…pardon? Did you just say that you’re accusing us of…of…a capital crime? You’re talking about the death penalty, you know?”
Knowing their fear provides him leverage, Robert pushes his advantage. “Oh yes Monsieur Croyant, I am very much aware of the full penalty of Ile-de-France’s food laws. We are…after all…talking about millions of Parisians, including small, innocent infants, who could possibly die due to the treacherous poisoning of the food they depend upon for life.”
Scowling and faintly growling, Mefiant stands and steps toward Robert. Standing six feet and five inches, even Robert must look up to meet Mefiant’s eyes. Instantly, he realizes that this giant of a man is wearing a SPEA developed exoskeleton suit, so he warily backs away. Having worn a similar SPEA exoskeleton suit himself, he remembers the ten-times-human strength the special clothing provides. One punch from Mefiant would crush his chest. Robert flinches when Mefiant lifts his long, log-sized arm toward him.
Drooping his ham-sized hand across Robert’s shoulder, Mefiant pledges his assistance in his rumble-of-thunder voice. “I will help you find this forme la plus basse de l'humanité, Monsieur.”
“Moi aussi…uh, me too.” Without hesitation, Honnete pledges her assistance. “I also want to find this scum. My children will starve without the food we grow. I will never allow them to go hungry.”
Silently, Croyant nods his head signaling that he is also joining them.
Their three unexpected oaths of allegiance surprise Robert. When he arrived, he was prepared and expecting to interrogate them. Now, he is no longer investigating them, they are his investigation team. Too easy. Too eager. He is not certain he trusts them. But, since AGI is not sending him any warnings, he decides to believe them until he cannot.
“I suggest we continue our discussions inside the reflection room.” Robert directs his newly formed trio of sleuths into the adjoining chamber.
Croyant, Mefiant and Honnete sprint ahead of Robert to grab seats around a semi-private table near the end of room. As Robert approaches, he senses he is bringing three hungry puppies their dinner. Their eyes are wide open. They are leaning forward pressing their hands into the table. At any moment, he expects them to begin drooling and panting. He grins and chuckles at their childlike eagerness.
Robert sits and the three stretch toward him. Too close. Robert motions for them to back away. As if he has smacked them on their noses with a newspaper, they retreat with a whimper.
“Ok. I’ve provided you with some initial information regarding my reasons for requesting to meet with you.” In a low voice, Robert resumes his inquiry. “As you may be aware, somebody or some group poisoned the food crops at every AAU vertical farm in Ile-de-France…including your very rare bananas. So, who do…?”
“Hooya! Allie Hooya!” Honnete shouts, startling Robert. “It has to be her.”
“Yes, Hooya!” Croyant and Mefiant accuse in one loud voice.
“I see. So, you’re all three in agreement. Allie Hooya is guilty.” One by one, Robert assesses each of their faces. Not wanting to possibly influence them, he tells them nothing about his drone attack. Again, receiving no warning of any of them lying from AGI, he continues. “Why? Why would she want to poison your banana plants?”
Twisting in his exoskeleton, Mefiant first points at himself, then at Croyant and then Honnete. “Hooya poisoned the banana plants, because she hates us. She calls herself a Specieist and Reversionist. She loathes all cyborgs…all augmented humans…any individual not completely natural carbon. She detests our enhancements…any humane advancements.”
“She called me an unnatural, unhuman freak, because I have a NeuroLife brain implant and wear this exoskeleton.” Mefiant lightly tugs at his suit. “I’m a paraplegic. Without my exoskeleton and its connections to my brain implant, I cannot move. Without the silicone guide, covered in 3D-printed neuronal stem cells, implanted into my spine, I would have no control of my bowels or my bladder. I could not live.”
Honnete nods her head in agreement. “She called me a creation of Satan simply because I have artificial retinas, so I’m not blind. Croyant would be deaf if he didn’t have cochlear implants. But, it’s not just us, Robert. Everybody our age or younger…all biomechatronics…our entire generation and our children, she seeks to eliminate all of us. By starving us, everybody, if necessary. That is her Specieist goal.”
Robert’s eyes widen in wonder. “Why is she here? She should have never been allowed inside these facilities and certainly not allowed to supervise multiple locations. Is Grote her accomplice? Is that why…”
Croyant lifts his hand to interrupt. “I’ve been here longer than Mefiant and Croyant. I was here when Allie arrived. She was different then. Optimistic. Brilliant. She designed and developed several important improvements to our growth support and harvesting systems. But then, about seven months ago, she changed. She returned to the Federation of United States when her mother died. She was gone for two months. And then when she resumed her work…well…she was a different person. Angry. Hate filled. She was against everything scientifically developed or genetically engineered and improved…plants…people.”
“Is that when she formed her Naturals only group - Preserving Human Purity?” Nervously, Honnete looks to her left and right and then lowers her voice. “Last week, she trapped me in a corner and threatened me. She told me that I will be one of the first mechanized, genetic deviants she destroys when the war between God’s natural-born humans and, as she called me, my aberrant, science created species begins. A war she claims is coming soon…very soon.”
Smack. A revelation rocks Robert. He blurts. “I’m wrong. This isn’t an Agromafia ransom attack. It’s much worse…far more dangerous. All of the simultaneous worldwide strikes make more sense now. Allie doesn’t want ransom. She and her followers do want a war.”
“And so she poisoned our bananas? That was supposed to start her species against species war?” Mefiant expresses his doubts. “I don’t see it, Honnete. Just don’t believe it.”
Robert shakes his head and raises his hand, palm toward Mefiant. “Don’t be condescending. Honnete poses a valid point. Remember, Henry Kissinger once said that if you control food, you control the population. For years, that system has been working. It’s how Ile-de France works. It’s how our world’s governments are surviving.”
Mefiant sneers. “So how does…?”
Robert explains his philosophy. “To maintain peace and stability, the world’s governing Elites have been supplying the world’s Sist masses with sufficient food and drugs…keeping them pacified and under control. But, when Allie and her followers or this Limos Lives kill the food, they also eliminate the Elites’ authority and the Sists’ contentment. The riot I was caught in at La Place de la Republique clearly indicates to me that Allie’s threat of a species war…could become…is becoming reality.”
“But a species war?” Mefiant continues questioning.
“Oh yes!” Robert nods his head. He calls upon another philosopher to support his statement. “A human species war is an inescapable reality, if you accept Georgy Gause’s Competitive Exclusion Principle. He proposed that two different species can’t survive occupying the exact same niche at the exact same time. In other words, complete competitors like nature-born, bio-pure human Sists cannot peacefully coexist alongside the new species of cyborg and transhuman Elites. Therefore species war. Just like Allie and her cohorts want.”
“So, you’re saying that Allie and her people…her follo
wers are seeking to start a species war here in Paris by creating a food crisis to cause a public uprising?” Mefiant is no longer contemptuous.
Robert nods. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying. Actually, I believe a type of species war is already occurring in the FUS. Only in the FUS, it’s the rural populations against the urban populations. And, it’s in the FUS, that I suspect somebody converted Allie. Which was why Allie started her crusade only after she returned. So, in league with or as followers of this unknown group called Limos Lives, Allie and her disciple agronomists attacked AAU to both spread their war here and fund their war, elsewhere. I am advised that Ile-de-France is just one of three locations under assault. This is international…worldwide. Her worldwide species war.”
Surreptitiously, Honnete points past Robert, as she whispers. “Here comes Grote, now.”
“Ooh, something is wrong.” Croyant adds in a low voice. “He looks ill.”
Stooped and ashen, Grote slowly shuffles to their table. Silent, he leans on the table, as if he would collapse if it was not there. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply…once…twice…three times.
Opening his eyes, Grote clears his throat and softly chokes out his words. “I have…it is terrible…horrible news. The Préfecture de police summoned me this morning. Allie Hooya is dead. The Police Nationale discovered her and nineteen others dead. They are still investigating and are not releasing much additional information, except that they are…were that is…all AAU agronomists and also…and I find this very strange, mostly Americans.”
Croyant jerks. His eyes flare wide in excitement. “That’s her group…or her society…Preserving Human Purity. Or perhaps, it was her purpose. In one of her weird rants, she once told me that nineteen deputies and their leader form a posse and that all of these posses work together with some high sheriff somewhere to protect and preserve their society and our species from the humanoid demons genetic engineers are creating. At least that’s something like she said. I thought she was telling me some story, not the truth, so I didn’t listen that well.”