by Scott Rhine
“I guess that’s about as much as my treatments can do for you I’m afraid. Some people are just going to be better, their brains more suited to the activities of a pilot. Nature plus nurture trumps just nurture every time, my friend.”
“So I’m done? I won’t need any more treatments?”
“Seems that way. Thanks for the business. Tell your friends.” Tyler waved goodbye to Omar and turned back to his terminals. Omar hesitated before leaving, an itch in a corner of him mind. After a long moment, Tyler turned back to him, the edge of a smile almost hidden. “Something else I can do for you, partner?” Tyler asked.
“I was just thinking. You can’t possibly afford to have all this gear just for a few flight school failures. It wouldn’t be cost effective. What else do you use it for?” The man’s grin widened and his eyes lit up.
“I thought you’d never ask. I am purveyor of experiences of all kinds. For some people, like you, these experiences help them acquire a useful skill. Others desire something more, something their own lives do not give them. Adventure, excitement, love and hate are all at my fingertips. My simulations can allow you to step into any life you choose. From artist to murderer, I can provide any experience you desire, all at reasonable rates. Interested?”
“No.” Omar turned sharply and left, leaving the grinning man behind him shaking his head. Omar heard the man’s voice echo down the hallway from the open door.
“Let me know when you are.”
Omar managed a full week of flight school before he returned to Tyler’s workshop. The man didn’t question his change of mind or ask about flight school. Instead he simply started to get the gear set up.
“So, what kind of experience are we looking for today?”
“I don’t know. I just need something to take my mind off of things for a while.” Tyler grinned once more, a look Omar was beginning to hate, as much as he felt anything for the man.
“I’ve got just the thing. Believe me, you won’t be disappointed. This is one of my best sellers. Some people come here just for this sim alone.”
Omar settled into the pod. The simulation began and Omar felt a sense of peace and tranquility come over him. He was at home, not his home on Keikruit but a sense of home pervaded the scene nonetheless. He heard children playing and felt the soft fabric of the chair in which he sat with one idle hand. A scent caught his attention, a mix of pastries cooking and a light perfume hanging in the air. Omar heard a feminine humming coming from the kitchen, a half remembered tune from his past.
In the simulation, Omar rose and walked to the kitchen. A woman stood with her back to him. Her long auburn hair pulled back into a single ponytail that bounced lightly as she moved from one task to another. She wore clothing alien to Omar but somehow familiar as well. Omar stood quietly watching the woman, deep and pervasive emotions flooding his mind. Omar had believed he knew love when he had met Veronika but now he realized he was wrong. This passion was so strong it threatened to overwhelm him but in the simulation the man seemed unaware of its intensity. He simply walked up to the woman and slid his arm around her waist comfortably.
The woman turned, startled. Though the woman’s face was unknown to him he felt joy at the sight of it, captivated by her beauty and the subtle imperfections that only made her more beautiful to him. Omar felt happier than he could recall ever being, either on his homeworld or in the Fleet.
The woman, his wife, smiled and batted his arm away playfully, telling him that the children were around. At their mention, two children ran into the room, a boy and a girl. They looked to be the same age, perhaps five or six. The boy was chasing his sister with a reptile of some kind in his hands. The girl shrieked as she ran, her fear of the creature more feigned than real. In the simulation, Omar chided the boy lightly. As the two ran from the room Omar was again almost overcome by the sheer joy and love he felt for the children.
The simulation ran for some time, a perfect evening in the life of a simple family. Omar came back to his reality slowly, the residue of the other man’s feelings virtually dripping from him. Tyler seemed dirtier than Omar recalled, his workroom dingy and worn. Omar felt empty in a way he could not describe. Tyler nodded lightly to Omar, who left without a word.
The world he knew, life aboard the Damascus, seemed hollow. There was a barren and lifeless quality to his actions that Omar had not felt in a long time. Wherever he went, the ship either seemed antiseptic or dirty. Omar wandered aimlessly for a long time before deciding to return to his quarters and sleep.
The next day felt little better. Omar found no release in his daily tasks, finding them pointless and irrelevant. Even the idea of rising in rank seemed to have little value. Still, he had no alternative, at least none that he could see. This was the live he had chosen. Omar held out for three days before returning to Tyler’s cramped little room and lying silently in the simulator. That night he lived the life of an artist, a painter. The sense of elation at seeing his ideas coming to life on a canvas filled Omar with longing.
Omar did not want to go back again. He resolved to find another way. He bought paint and canvas of his own and tried to create art. The blank canvas taunted him as he struggled to find something he wanted to paint. He realized quickly that he was trying to live someone else’s dream, to capture some part of the happiness he felt in the simulation but lacked in his own life.
As the weeks passed, Omar settled into a dark routine. He rose, worked throughout the day at his piloting skills and at the end of the day if credit remained in his account, he would return to Tyler’s dingy workroom. Not all of the dreams he experienced there were uplifting. Some were filled with sadness, violence or both, as the experience of a child lost in a warzone whose parents had both been killed by an errant missile. It did not matter what it was, Omar devoured them all, eager to feel something beyond his own empty existence.
Once he finished training, Omar began to fly missions for the Damascus. After a year, he could not recall how many enemy ships he had fired on or destroyed. All that mattered was a return at the end of the day to Tyler’s dreams. The world had settled into something resembling a comfortable existence. It seemed that he could continue in this way forever.
The Damascus was a big ship, housing over three hundred men and women. As Omar did not engage in social activity he knew less than fifty by name, even after almost two years. Some areas of the ship he had seen only a few times. So it may be that Veronika had been on board the entire time he had been stationed there. Fighter pilots worked under a separate command structure than the main ship’s complement. It could be that she had never seen his name or had forgotten him. After all it had been nearly five years since their brief couplings.
Still, it was inevitable that she would find him someday. He wished it could have been anywhere else. Omar had been dreaming in Tyler’s rooms, for the man had expanded his operation and now had multiple pods. By unwritten agreement none of his clients spoke to each other, each ashamed of the secret they shared. Later, Omar could never recall what the dream was about, only that it had provoked feelings of curiosity and exploration in him. He was startled when the dream ended abruptly. He opened his eyes and found armed soldiers milling about the room with Tyler being led out in cuffs.
“What is going on here?” He asked, hearing how his voice cracked. One of the soldiers turned to him.
“This man’s operation has been determined to be detrimental to the successful operation of the Damascus and is being shut down. You will be detained long enough for us to get a statement and then released. No charges are being leveled against you and this incident will not be included in your permanent record.”
“I don’t understand. There is nothing illegal here.”
“Sir, legality is determined by the XO. This business has resulted in a perceptible lowering of crew morale. Mr. Tyler can and probably will apply to be transferred to the Westinghouse where he can resume his activities. They have less stringent rules of conduct. You may visit hi
s business there when conditions allow.”
“But that means only when we are in a system where the ships can be connected. That might be months from now.”
“Can’t say as to that, sir. Will you please come with me?” Omar allowed the man to lead him to the security station. There he was placed in a holding room. When the door opened, the last person he expected to see was Veronika. Omar noted that she had been promoted.
“I had to see it to believe it.” She said. “When I saw the report I guessed someone had killed you and taken your identity. I’m not sure which surprises me more, that you’re a fighter pilot or a drug addict.”
“I’m not a drug addict.” Omar replied, his tension showing in his voice.
“You damn sure as hell are. As part of this ongoing investigation your finances were examined. You’re one of Tyler’s best clients. An average of half of your income is funneled straight into his pockets. That is the action of an addict.”
“It’s not a drug. It’s a simulation.”
“Is that what he told you?” Veronika sighed. “Drugs are anything that gets you high. Simulations like this stimulate activity in the brain and endocrine systems. A strong enough simulation and it gets the user high as an orbital platform. That man Tyler had hacked the simulation software to stimulate the user far beyond the safety protocols allow. Given your expenses you must have been getting high every night. What gives?”
“What do you care?”
“I care because it’s my job. An addict or two can be overlooked. Once the numbers rise to the levels Mr. Tyler was operating at, morale starts to suffer. I have to ask, what drove you to find happiness in a simulation?” Omar searched for an easy answer and could not find one. He struggled to put into words what drew him back to Tyler’s den over and over again.
“They remind me of who I was, before I joined the Fleet, before I lost the ability to feel.”
“Lost the ability to feel? Has life aboard the Fleet been so bad?”
“I took gene treatments to correct my DNA. I hadn’t felt a thing since that day, not till I met Tyler. I didn’t even know what I had lost.”
“You absolute idiot. Why would you do that to yourself? And why spend so much on sims when you could just pay a doctor to reverse the process?” The words hung in the air for a long while.
“I was afraid I might end up killing myself if I went back to how things were before. I was nearly there when I started the treatments.”
“What could have been that bad?” Omar stared at Veronika, incredulous. Could she really not know?
“You were.” The words sounded hollow, without the inflection true emotion would have given them. Instead they were simply the truth. “I gave up everything I knew to join you in the stars. It might have been a foolish dream but it was the only one I had. When you laughed and dismissed me, it crushed that dream. I didn’t know where I was going anymore. Nothing seemed to matter. After the treatments, I gained clarity. I could see a path to something else.”
Veronika seemed at a loss for words. Her expression softened, reminding him of how she had been on those nights so long ago. She floated to Omar and took his face in her hands and brought it close to her own, a tear forming in one eye. Omar looked at her impassively. After a moment, her face hardened and in an angry flourish she slapped him and turned away.
“You’re going to try to make this about me! I never asked you to come here. I didn’t walk you to a head shrinker’s office and ask to program all your emotions away. I didn’t make you an addict. You can’t pin this on me.” Omar watched as she began to shake slightly. “It’s not my fault!”
“You’re right.” He agreed. “Every stupid mistake I’ve made has been my own fault. I walked myself down this path. I don’t blame you for my current condition.” Veronika had her back to Omar so he couldn’t see what she was thinking. Her reply, when it came, seemed out of place.
“It’s ok, Omar.” She said. “I get it. Listen, maybe I’m not to blame but it doesn’t mean I can’t help. Let me get you to a doctor, a real one, not one of the hacks from the Westinghouse. I’m sure there’s someone on the Damascus who can get your head on straight again. I’ve got to go, paperwork and all. Do your debriefing and go home. I’ll be in touch in a day or so.”
Omar filed his statement numbly, uncertain. He returned to his cabin and tried to sleep. When Veronika called the next day, Omar almost didn’t answer. While he did not feel fear, he was apprehensive at the thought of a return to life with emotions. It felt like a regression, a return to old ways. He felt like he had progressed beyond the poor boy that had loved and lost. He was now a space pilot in the mighty Fleet. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to change. Without Tyler’s simulations though, his future seemed bleak and lifeless.
“Omar, meet me at this address.” Veronika’s message was short and to the point. Omar dressed and met her at the indicated location. The medical clinic was small and well appointed. It had the telltale markings of a professional work environment. Omar could not help but compare it to the dingy walls and haphazard wiring in Tyler’s rooms. The doctor examined him carefully, taking blood samples as well as a full scan of his brain.
“Without a baseline to compare it to, I can only guess as to the changes made to your body, Mr. Hadi.” The doctor said. “There are some genetic markers that are no doubt trace remnants of the techniques used. The work was clean at least, no loose threads lying around. You have the makings of a fine psychopath.”
“A psychopath?” Veronika asked.
“Yes, the parts of his brain where emotions are located have atrophied. I’m afraid that even if we reverse the gene therapy he might never regain full emotional range again.”
“But you can do something for him, right?” Omar was surprised to note a slight tremor in her voice.
“I can. There are a few adjustments I can make that should ameliorate the problem somewhat. I could do more but I would need a sample of his original genetics. Have you checked with the original doctor?”
“The clinic doesn’t exist anymore. The Westinghouse told me the doctor left the Fleet three years ago. All of his records were wiped during a data sweep and clean last year.”
“Well, unless you have a sample of your DNA somewhere else Mr. Hadi, I’m afraid our options are limited.” Omar shook his head. Where would he have samples of his DNA from four years ago?
“That book!” Veronika exclaimed. “You loved that book of verse. Do you still have it?”
“The Rubaiyat? Yes though I have not read from it in a long time.”
“Even better. Your DNA will be all over it in the form of dead skin cells. Doctor, you could use that, right?”
“I would have to examine it but yes I think that could work. Bring it in to me and I’ll let you know.” Veronika seemed so happy at that prognosis that Omar wished he could join her in the feeling. She turned and hugged Omar.
“You’re going to be all right!” She exclaimed. Omar embraced her lightly, apprehensive. After a moment she disengaged, an embarrassed look upon her face.
The book did have enough material for the doctor to reconstruct his DNA. At Veronika’s insistence, the doctor was able to acquire it with minimal damage to the book. Omar wondered at the time why she would bother saving the old relic.
The days which passed next were the longest of Omar’s life. His brain, long conditioned to only one solution in the search for pleasure, betrayed him at every turn. The withdrawal became existential in its severity. He even found himself halfway to Tyler’s workshop, his punch drunken mind thinking he might find something to relieve the void he felt inside.
At the end of an endless week, the doctor began to administer tailored treatments to reverse the damage. By this time Omar had recovered mostly from his initial symptoms. The doctor noted his condition and believed the best course was to begin as the treatments might help in the recovery process. Five days after his first treatment, Omar was sitting in his quarters, idly researching the hist
ory of the Fleet when he felt the shift in his mind.
He paused in his studies as he came across a picture of a landing field on a planet hundreds of light years away. The purpose of the picture was to show the Fleet fighters triumphant after a lengthy battle for dominance in the system. What Omar noticed though, was the sun behind the field. An older star, its orange glow filled the sky as it descended below the horizon. Streaks of light in a hundred colors ran across the heavens while a swarm of local birds flew in a maelstrom of kinetics and gravity. The picture seemed in that moment to be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and Omar sat back, jaw slack, tears began to cloud the image in his eyes.
In a flash, Omar was reminded of all of the sunsets he had watched on Keikruit. He suddenly felt very alone and very far away from that world. The moment lasted an eternity and then it faded and Omar was left sitting in his room, a picture of a fighter plastered on his wall. He shook his head and turned away from the viewscreen. His eyes caught on his copy of the Rubaiyat and he ran a finger lightly over the cover. It had been so long that he could not remember a single verse from the book. Omar opened it and began to read.
As he closed the book some time later, his tears having long since fallen and dried again, he thought of Eliot Nasi. That man who had given him a chance so long ago. He recalled their last meeting and saw it now in a new light. He could see how the changes wrought on him by the Fleet had hurt the other man. Omar sent the embattled officer, now the captain of the Westinghouse, a message consisting of two lines:
“To-morrow! Why, Tomorrow I may be Myself
With Yesterday’s Sev’n thousand Years.”
Omar made several changes over the next few weeks, his changing mental landscape caused unanticipated ripples in his outer world. Most importantly he found that he had immense amounts of free time. Pilots were only really needed in system. During transit, they were free to do as they please. Omar found his new freedom came with a deep loneliness. He tried to forge bonds with the other pilots but found them to be egotistical and narcissistic.