Life is a Beautiful Thing (4-Book Box Set)

by Harmon Cooper

  “Walliburton.”

  “I should have known that. And the cost?”

  “Look, you don’t have to pay me,” she says suddenly. “Just meet me again soon. I like you.”

  “Seriously?” I ask. I watch as her eyes flicker under her bangs. It’s strange to think that she’s recording everything that happens with those eyes and simultaneously monitoring my vitals. I shut my eyes and quickly open an incognito window on my iNet screen to investigate the price of a Walliburton escort. Pricey!

  “Expensive, huh?” she says. I open my eyes to see Yeshi tilting her head again. As her head tilts, her bangs fall to the right side of her face.

  I gulp.

  “Well, consider it an early birthday gift … ” she says. “But only if you promise to meet me again.”

  THIRTEEN∞

  Rinchi opened the door to the Humandroid flat that she shared with Yeshi and another escort named Anna. Dr. Richard Hewman, the clever designer of the first Humandroid back in the 40s, knew that having the Humandroids recharge via a standard electrical outlet would eternally marginalize them. A PhD in Robotic Biomimicry from MIT, Dr. Hewman had his first breakthrough while doing research in Berlin with a team of German scientists specializing in xenotransplantation.

  The story goes that Hewman fell asleep after getting drunk off a bottle of homemade glühwein given to him by a grad student. Unbeknownst to him, the grad student had actually given him glühwein dosed with lysergic acid diethylamide, otherwise known as LSD. According to lore, Hewman slept through most of the hallucination and awoke with a host of acid-inspired ideas. As he came down from his trip, he scribbled fifty pages of notes on a yellow legal pad next to his bed. These notes would contain the programming language and biological necessities that would go on to finalize the last step of humanity – the creation of Homo machina.

  Early Humandroid models wore glasses with solar cells on their rims to charge themselves. The glasses would generate energy, which would enter the Humandroid from small reactor cells behind their ears. To recharge, the Humandroids would need to wear the glasses for at least six hours a day depending on the model.

  For the next ten years, as Humandroid technology progressed, Homo machina could easily be spotted because their glasses blinked subtly as they recharged. Moore’s Law also applied to Humandroids – it took time for the technology to improve upon itself but it didn’t take that much time.

  It was Richard Hewman’s wife, Olivia, who had thought of the next way for Humandroids to be recharged. She suggested that he think of a way to have them recharge during a sleep cycle. Assisted by a Japanese start-up company called SleepSound (スリープサウンド) that was trying to find electronic cures for insomnia, Hewman was able to develop a way for the Humandroids to recharge during a six-hour sleep cycle.

  With the help of two French researchers, Hewman figured out a way to also produce energy through what he jokingly called robosynthesis. Like plants, Humandroids exhaled oxygen and inhaled carbon dioxide, which some argue, has become instrumental in combating global climate change. They also took in six ounces of water per day, administered in two ounce increments throughout the day. The hydrogen in the water served as another fuel source. The six-ounce daily intake was calibrated to be the exact amount necessary as not to produce waste.

  Richard Hewman himself died mysteriously after an explosion in his laboratory rumored to be caused by one of the many pollute cigarettes he chain smoked. Around the world, statues of Hewman next to the first Humandroid, Eve, were erected. A group called Humans for Hewman was started with funding from the FCG and EU to provide Humandroid aid workers to impoverished countries.

  As the Humandroid workforce was implemented into society, Humandroid recharge facilities (referred to as Humandroid flats) bloomed across the globe. The flats were lit by motoglass cylinder tubes that hung from the ceilings and walls of each room. Usually, the facilities were made from the shells of early twenty-first century low income housing units.

  Rinchi’s building was one of these Humandroid flats. It was an eight story building that spanned half a city block, housing six thousand Humandroid workers. There were maintenance facilities on the first floor, which included the shower and grooming services. Walliburton and other contractor offices were on the top floor. The Humandroids lived in groups of three in small rooms on the interim floors with shared showers at the end of each hallway. Humandroids didn’t need privacy – their only housing needs were beds, showers, proper lighting and clothing.

  From the door, Rinchi slept on the bed in the right corner, Yeshi slept on a bed in the left corner and Anna slept on the futon across from Yeshi. Between Yeshi and Rinchi’s bed was a clothes rack chock-full of enticing garments – skimpy one-pieces, sparkly bras, satin night gowns in several different colors, sheer holiday lingerie, full-body fishnet outfits, two spreader bars, rope for suspension bondage and strappado torture, military fatigues, hanging pockets full of nipple clamps, collars, paddles engraved with triskelion emblems, Wartenberg wheels, a dildo shaped like the Eiffel Tower, crops, small electro-stimulation devices, butt plugs in various sizes, handcuffs, a muzzle gag, several animal masks, a leather gas mask, ball gags, a host of whips varying in girth, elf outfits, a dangling scold’s bridle, matching kimonos, wigs, mesh nighties, umbrellas, translucent raincoats, cowboy hats and various spandex get-ups. Even the most beastly forms of paraphilia were satisfied with their paraphernalia.

  Next to Anna’s bed were two folding chairs and a black filing cabinet full of illegal pollutes. It was a well-known fact that the best pollutes came from Humandroid escorts. Most were usually funneled into the States from other countries through Mexico, America’s favorite conduit. While illegal to transport banned pollutes, the Walliburton Corporation – which the majority of Humandroid escorts worked for – smuggled in illegal pollutes anyway, paying off officials with pollutes, sex and erotic-exotic vacation packages. To live in sin was to live in the late twenty-first century.

  “Your night?” Anna stirred on the other side of the room. She was lying on her side with her hand tucked under a pillow. Both Anna and Yeshi slept with pillows, something that Rinchi never could understand.

  “Met with Antimeria again.” Rinchi dropped her purse onto the floor next to her bed. “Then I came here and went to the therapist.”

  “How was that?”

  “Same stupid shit. Self-help nonsense made for humans which Dr. T is attempting to administer to me. Respect your life. Respect your job … this type of fascist crap.”

  “Is it really fascist?” Anna laughed. ‘such an angry droid you are … ”

  “Fuck you. How was your night?” Rinchi asked.

  “I ended up holding a knife to a man’s throat as he jacked off … ” A slight smile spread across Anna’s face. “After that he took me to a twenty-four hour McStarbucks and proceeded to eat three latte-flavored Big Macs and drink two extra venti vanilla frappes.”

  Rinchi’s face contorted. “McStarbucks? What kind of guys are you seeing nowadays?”

  “I guess he just wanted McStarbucks. He paid me for an entire night so I went along.”

  “How was … McStarbucks?”

  Anna shrugged. “A case study in twenty-first century human obesity. Plus, it smelt horrible in there, a mixture of greasy coffee grinds and irisin-enhanced synthetic beef. I contemplated shutting off my olfactory senses. I mean, I’ve done it before so I know it’s possible … ”

  “How do you do that?” Rinchi asked, pulling off her boots.

  “I looked it up on GoogleFace a few months ago. One of the lingual veins under our tongues – the red and blue striped one – is responsible for our sense of smell. If you pinch it, or what I did the last time was actually use a nail clipper to sever it, it cuts off your sense of smell. You have to be careful not to swallow the vein though. Otherwise, you’ll have to go to maintenance. Afterwards, I just soldered it back on myself.”

  The door slammed open and Yeshi sprung into the r
oom. She smiled at both Anna and Rinchi. “Hey droidies … ”

  “Hiya,” Anna waved.

  “You two will never guess what happened to me last night … ”

  FOURTEEN∞

  **The following conversation took place in Spanish two days after Nelly met Meme. It has been translated by the late José Alberto Del Castillo Cabeza Mercedes Acosta III for our monolingual audience.

  “Is this all of it?” Nelly asked Carloza.

  They sat in private café in Tijuana, a few blocks away from Paseo de los Heroes. She began thumbing through an oversized Louis Vuitton duffle bag. The duffle bag contained banned pollute packets from Russia, Bhutan, Argentina, Easter Island, Thailand, Egypt and Zimbabwe. The single duffle bag was worth twice as much as Antimeria’s aeros.

  “All there, chica.” Carloza had his eyes closed so he could monitor the money transfer on GoogleFace. Two of his bodyguards sat in a booth across from them. One was a beast of a man, so large that he had to sit sideways in the booth.

  A burly bartender wearing Leaks used his dreadlocks to distribute pollutes at the bar. A single musician plucked at a harp in the far corner. Nelly could tell the woman was a Humandroid by the speed of her fingers. She was an older model, likely a retired NeunBolt from the 2070s.The synthetic skin near the corner of her left eye was replaced by a blue globe that flickered in syncopation with the song she played, a classic by Los Tigres Del Norte.

  Mexico had become somewhat of a haven for modified Humandroids, a situation constantly monitored by the FCG. Fear of a robo-terrorism had filled countless debates and had been the subject of restrictive legislations since Hewman introduced the first Humandroid in the 2040s. Upon unveiling Eve, Hewman was forced to enter federal protection after becoming the target of an extreme right wing anti-Humandroid group known as NOT IN MY AMERICA or NIMA.

  With the federal crackdown, Mexico became the obvious place for digital natives to live out their wildest tech-fantasies. The Modified Humandroid culture in Mexico had become so popular that the word Techback was coined to describe people moving to Mexico to mod Humandroids, smuggle Humandroids, or run Humandroid/human co-operative communities. It was believed that Techbacks would outnumber the natives one day.

  “Transfer’s coming,” Nelly assured him. “It’s a pain in the ass to transfer money out of my Liechtenstein account, you know that. So many damn stop measures. I put in the request an hour ago. It should be here within the next twenty minutes.”

  “No problem. How’s business?” Carloza asked as he opened his eyes.

  “Moving quickly. I mean … everything is going well.” Nelly smiled faintly. She was always suspicious when other drug dealers asked her questions about her business. “Yours?”

  “Fine,” Carloza answered, also wary to talk openly about his thriving pollute smuggling business. He was the kingpin of a large pollute smuggling ring, not the biggest in Mexico but definitely one of the most powerful.

  “Good.”

  “Switched bodies recently?”

  Nelly shook her head. “I was asked a few nights ago, the guy disappeared though. You?”

  “Yea, actually, I switched bodies two weeks ago. Nice time. Who cares if it was temporary? It was still fun. When’s the last time you switched?”

  “God, before getting married. I switched with a woman who was a retro hip-hop dancer. I kept her body for a few days. I almost stayed in it.”

  “I know the feeling. It’s a damn shame that you have to eventually switch back. You can’t stay; it’s not your body. That’s the problem with body-switching is that after about five minutes, you really think it’s your body, you really think you’re invincible. The guy … what the hell is his name?”

  “Which guy?” she asked.

  “The guy who patented it … or well, at least invented body-switching.”

  “It wasn’t a guy; it was a Russian woman named Evelina Khromtchenko.” Nelly smiled. “I know because I had a picture of her as my iNet background for a while. It was originally a life chip virus.”

  “Now that lady was a genius.” Carloza raised a finger to his nose and snorted something out. A yellowish green blob landed on the floor. ‘sorry about that. The dust around here will do that to you. Let me check on the transfer again.” He closed his eyes. ‘still not there.”

  “It’s coming, just relax,” she looked down at her Cartier watch.

  “Have you ever switched bodies with a child?” he asked.

  “Yeah right. People are too prone to do twisted shit … ”

  “It’s not quite illegal here in Mexico,” Carloza explained. “Technically it is, but the authorities look the other way if one has a wad of cash, so technically it isn’t. Techbacks pretty much rule the country. Mexico, land of the free! Actually, my switch a few weeks back was with a child. I was rolling around, dancing, jumping – doing all sorts of stupid things. You know, the kind of shit that kids do.”

  “What did the child do with your body?”

  “He went and got himself laid with my body! Can you believe that?” Carloza laughed, slamming his fist on the table. “I had to find the little bastard! He spent more money at the whorehouse in a single night inside my body than I usually spend in an entire week. Little fucker knew what he was doing. Youth these days, they never handle money well.”

  “Some do.”

  “You’re referring to yourself?” Carloza asked.

  “I’m under twenty-five so I consider myself pretty youthful.” The look on Nelly’s face was solemn and serious. She meant it.

  “Yeah, I guess you could say you understand wealth. Hell, you were smart enough to marry into it.”

  “Watch it.”

  “If I were you and had your body I would’ve done the same thing. But now you’re going to have a kid, things will change.” Carloza shook his head. ‘shit, you might have to say goodbye to this business of yours … ”

  “It’s cool to have kids these days. Everyone in Hollywood is having them. Twitter stars, musicians, bloggers, gamers – everyone has a child as an accessory.”

  “As an accessory? Well if you ever want to switch, let me know. I’ve always wanted a baby,” he said with a toothy grin.

  “In your dreams,” she said. “How old are you anyway? You’re too old to have a baby!”

  “A drug lord doesn’t reveal his age.”

  “You aren’t a drug lord … ”

  “You say apples I say pollutes,” Carloza nodded at his henchmen. Nelly got the point. “Let’s just say I’m between the ages of thirty-five and forty-nine. That’s good enough for you right?”

  “Sure.”

  “And call me what you will, drug lord, illegal pollute dealer … I increase my nation’s GDP with every one of these duffle bags I sell to your country. Mexico has been America’s favorite drug dealer for over a hundred years. It’s our national destiny to intoxicate your nation ¡Pobre México! ¡Tan lejos de Dios y tan cerca de los Estados Unidos! (Poor Mexico! So far from God, so close to the United States!) You and I, shit, we’re both playing our roles, Nelly. Pollutes are drugs whether you care to admit it or not.”

  “I guess they are … ”

  “You don’t think they are?”

  “They aren’t the same as other drugs.”

  “No drug is the same as another drug. Well, that’s not true but the point is ... Oh fuck the point, let me check the transfer,” Carloza closed his eyes. “Still no … wait something is pending.”

  “Have I ever fucked you over before?” she asked.

  “No, and that doesn’t mean you won’t in the future. One should always be prepared to get fucked over. It’s going to happen to me sooner or later. I’m waiting patiently for it. I’ll go out with a bang though.” He still had his eyes closed, waiting for the money to transfer. “With God as my witness.”

  “A bang? God will be there too, huh?”

  He nodded. “I always go out with a bang, and we will talk about God later. Ah good. The money has been transferre
d.”

  FIFTEEN∞

  Confession – I’m in a hotel room in downtown LA waiting for Yeshi. I’m wearing a white suit, sitting on the edge of the bed with my feet resting on a cretonne sofa chair. The four black lights above me are making the specks of dust and lint on my suit glow. It’s been a week since we met and as you can probably surmise by now, I caved in.

  I’m slowly nursing on the new Dior Carpet Bomb. It was this or Dries Van Noten Pineapple Bruises – too expensive for my tastes. It’s amazing what people will pay to consume. I inhale deeply. Exhale deeply. Repeat. Enjoy. Repeat. Enjoy.

  I couldn’t tell you why I’m here. I don’t know what has inspired me to contact the Humandroid again. Hell, for a few days after our first meeting I completely ignored her. She isn’t human, I told myself countless times. I even tried to live my life as normally as possible, going as far as cutting back on the pollutes. (Fat chance, I know.)

  Lo and behold, it didn’t take long for my clients to start looking like her. Every one of them morphed into Yeshi as I stared at them from across my desk. On Sunday, I decided to transfer money into her account. I was going to pay like a good capitalist and let that be it. The next day, I woke to find a single message from her. The message asked me to meet this week. I didn’t respond for two days.

  Yesterday was when I finally sent her a message. She replied within minutes and I booked a room. I could have just forgotten about all of this. That would’ve been the easiest route. One night, I was too twisted off pollutes and I fucked up. Close the book, open another. To start anew would have been the better thing to do.

  Another drag off Dior Carpet Bomb and I’m feeling stars. My peripheral vision is filming over; murkiness is calming my bones. I put my hand in my pocket and I knead my fingers along the freeze dried packet of my favorite pollute – Loathing Hunter with an Ayahuasca topper. LoathHunAyaTop for the neologists at heart.