Neurotopia

by Tony Mohorovich

  Dante hovered nearby. ‘I should have let you rest. It was unkind of me to show you so much, so soon. Please forgive me.’

  She wanted to run, to put as much space between her and this man, and all of them connected in their unnatural union. But where could she run to?

  ‘We’ve quarters available, usually reserved for new members. The cable car will take you to the dorm; it’s just one stop away.’ Dante pointed and a maya path appeared, leading to a multi-story dwelling a few hundred meters up the lava tube. ‘Accommodation’s free. Stay as long as you like.’

  The cable car arrived, as if on cue. ‘I can escort you to your room…’ he said.

  Sky turned her back and boarded the car alone.

  ​10:4

  The image of a ward full of infected telepaths appeared again and again in Sky’s mind, like the clickety-clacking of the cable car’s wheels. How she wished she could bury her head into her body. Instead, she buried it in her hands and stared at the faux-wooden floor.

  ‘Sky.’

  A woman’s voice, from a seat to her right. Sky found a pair of kind eyes nestled in the folds of aged skin. ‘Do you really believe telepathy is unnatural?’ The woman seemed more hurt than offended.

  ‘Actually, it’s very natural,’ an old man said, a hand resting on the woman’s lap.

  Another voice, from the other end of the car, ‘We’ve been evolving toward telepathy ever since we were single-celled organisms.’

  ‘Reaching out to each other to share our own lonely subjective experience.’ (The elderly man again).

  ‘We’ve used body language…’ (the young woman opposite),

  ‘… languages of the tongue…’ (a boy),

  ‘… images…’

  ‘… the written word…’

  The voices came from all around her, but they spoke with a consistent tone and rhythm. With each new speaker, Sky spun to make sure their lips were moving, for fear that the telepaths might be inside her mind.

  The dorm building was near enough. Before the cable car even began to decelerate, she hopped to the open doorway and leapt out. She landed at an angle, on one leg, then rolled on her side and grazed her shoulder. She did not feel the pain.

  But the voices continued, and this time they came from an approaching crowd. They were all Olon, of different shapes and sizes; seven of them, robed like priests, faceless male and female bodies (and a couple of neophytes who had not yet transitioned), their maya-features flipping, ‘… the internet; sharing our lives through social networking… publishing our thoughts as they come to us…’

  She could see the dorm.

  ‘… faster… ’

  ‘… faster….’

  ‘… and faster…’

  She was at the rose garden; the thorns blocked a direct route.

  ‘Until finally, we can fulfil our desire to share each other’s subjective experience…’ (The gardener with a fist-full of soil).

  The dorm entrance was only meters away. No more people. No more voices.

  ‘… in the most perfect and intimate way possible…’

  She thordered the doors open—they did not budge. She pushed them with such force that they bounced against the foyer walls.

  A child, a thin young girl with curled hair and eyes in awe, stared up at Sky, ‘… by connecting our brains.’

  Sky hopped around the child and made for the front desk. A man sat there, feet on the counter, watching a maya show. He spoke without looking at her. ‘Ms. Marion, you’re in room two on level three. Let me know if you need—’

  Sky took the stairs, two steps at a time. When she found her room, she slammed the door behind her and searched the quarters for any unwanted guests. Finding none, she wedged herself between the front door and the floor.

  Her hands shook with cold.

  She had been a fool. If the telepaths had the cure, they would have used it on their own kin. They knew of Geppetto, but they believed it had come from Earth. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe another telepath colony had created it. Maybe Geppetto was just a rumor, just another mad conspiracy. Maybe the telepaths were lying about everything.

  What did it matter? Her mother may already be dead. Sky might join her soon, and if not, the telepaths would drive her insane, like the victims in her childhood sims; the brainbenders would hack her until she obeyed their every command or her eyes would pop out of her sockets.

  Okiro.

  She wished him beside her. Would he miss her? Would he shed tears at her memorial? He would be the only one, for there was no one else in her life, except for her father. Such a waste, living in a void. Her life had passed without her making so much as a ripple in spacetime. Nobody would miss the invisible.

  Chapter 11

  Buried

  ​11:1

  Okiro smiled in satisfaction as the first waves of Penny’s climax tightened and released him. Her fingernails penetrated the flesh of his back. Delicious pain. In time, he withdrew himself and lay by her side.

  ‘What’s her name?’ Penny poked a finger into his ribs.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, pretending not be ticklish.

  ‘You’re going through a frisky patch; something must have set you off.’ She nibbled just under his jaw, giggling at the suggestion.

  Sky appeared in his mind’s eye, as if he had no choice but to answer the question. He had passed his findings on her case to the NIA but had heard nothing since. Yes, she had been in his thoughts. ‘Honey, you know my basal ganglia only has eyes for your rear end.’

  ‘Spare me,’ she turned her back to him. ‘Or is it his name?’

  Okiro chuckled. ‘If I was either naturally switched on by men or had sexual-orientation programming, you would have known long ago and we both would have taken full advantage of it.’

  She laughed, burying the back of her head in her pillow, exposing the front of her neck, which he kissed. She returned to him, her head on his chest, and her eyes pleading (demanding) an insight.

  ‘It’s just a little lust, that’s all,’ he said.

  ‘Name.’

  ‘You have to know every little detail, don’t you?’

  ‘It’s a flaw I’m willing to live with,’ she pouted. ‘Name.’

  ‘Can’t say.’

  ‘Your colleague Trinh? She is pretty—’

  He shook his head. ‘That was just a financial-year party fling.’

  ‘One of my friends, then?’ she poked him.

  Now he laughed. She frowned, apparently offended. ‘What’s wrong with my friends?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, trying not to dig his hole any deeper. ‘It’s just way off the mark, that’s all.’

  ‘A client?’

  He opened his mouth to come up with something dismissive, but it remained open for a little longer than he had anticipated.

  ‘One of your clients, you naughty man.’ Penny slapped his chest in victory.

  Beaten and cornered, he nodded. ‘Colleague and client. One of our scanners. It’s nothing. I’m just worried about her, that’s all.’

  ‘I thought you said it was just lust?’

  ‘It is.’

  She gave him one of those looks, with an upturned corner of the mouth that screamed gimme a break.

  ‘What do you want? An honesty scan to prove it’s just my penis? It’s nothing.’

  ‘Feelings are not nothing; are your feelings for me nothing?’

  He knew that a misstep here could result in a couple of days’ worth of silent treatment. ‘Of course not. It’s just that my life’s already full—and fulfilled,’ he was quick to emphasize, ‘—with you and Elsa and work. Where would I find the time for another love?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh please, where do you find the time for breathing? You’re just making excuses.’

  Okiro’s father had warned him not to marry a neuropsychologist, especially not a clever one.

  Penny brushed her lips against his, changing the mood. ‘I’ve tried to loosen you up, but it hasn�
�t been easy.’

  ‘I’m loose,’ he said, defensive.

  ‘How many girls have you dated since we married, hmm?’

  ‘A few.’

  ‘Properly dated, not just flings?’

  She had a point. Maybe he had just been content? Or busy. Maybe he was just an old-fashioned guy. ‘I’m not like you, Penny. You’re a sensual butterfly. If you didn’t have lovers, you’d drive me totally lunar. We can’t all be butterflies. Some of us are… woodpeckers.’

  She laughed. ‘Woodpeckers?’

  ‘That’s right, I’m a woodpecker, peck-peck-pecking at my tree, doing my thing, that’s where I’m happiest.’

  ‘That job of yours is the problem. You get switched on sifting through people’s weird thoughts. You’re in the voyeur brigade.’

  ‘Trust me, I don’t get to see the good stuff. Not often anyway.’

  Penny snorted, dismissive. Okiro caressed her arm.

  ‘You know,’ she said, staring into the distance, ‘you can never have too much love. Life’s too short.’

  He’d heard her say something like that once, but this time there was an edge to it.

  ‘Besides,’ her voice perked up, ‘I need a return on investment for that counter-jealousy programming. You know how much that cost me? Not to mention the week-long headache.’

  ‘Strange,’ he said, ‘I recall the male version being relatively cheap and painless.’

  Penny scoffed. ‘You’re all talk, Officer Mo-Levi.’

  He kissed her, then slid himself on top. They played again and soon he was inside her and they had forgotten all about their little disagreement.

  There came a knock at the door.

  ‘Mommy, Daddy?’

  Okiro rolled off and searched for his briefs. He whispered to Penny, ‘Next time, give her the sedative.’

  Penny whacked him across the arm, then called out, ‘One minute, honey.’

  When they were ready, Okiro thordered the door open.

  Elsa stood there, teddy in arm. ‘I heard some lady laughing. I think it was a brainbender.’ She frowned.

  ‘Come here, sweetie,’ her father told her, grinning at Penny. ‘I’ll protect you from that nasty brainbender.’ Penny shot him a silent rebuke as she finished laying a fresh bedsheet. The little one jumped up and burrowed in between them.

  Penny kissed her forehead. ‘You know you’re safe from brainbenders, don’t you?’

  ‘Good night,’ Elsa said. She curled into a ball and closed her eyes. Okiro exchanged a concerned look with his wife, then the adults secured the girl in their arms.

  *

  It was not long before Okiro was hovering on sleep. He was disturbed by an emergency call from the Neurosecurity and Intelligence Agency.

  With Elsa snoring, and Penny asleep, he eased out of bed and made his way to the living room, his heart pounding.

  This must be about Sky.

  He answered the call but no one appeared. Instead, there was a message:

  Please board the vessel.

  He heard a hiss, like the sound of a railpod but heavier and louder so that it drowned out the patter of rain. The room shuddered. A hopper drifted past his balcony, black against the blue night. Okiro followed it until it landed on the lawn below.

  He returned to the bedroom and gathered his clothes.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Penny whispered, half asleep.

  ‘Work,’ Okiro told her.

  ‘Surprise, surprise.’

  ‘It’s something urgent.’

  ‘Too urgent to handle on maya?’

  Okiro kissed her. He dressed in his uniform and took the elevator down to where the hopper had landed. A suited woman with her hair in a bun was waiting outside the hopper’s doors.

  As soon as Okiro entered the vessel, the doors closed and his Brain Operating System announced that he was in a network dead zone. Though the hopper’s engines hummed, the ship remained grounded.

  The woman who sat opposite him identified herself as an NIA employee. Before she could continue he blurted out, ‘Is Sky safe?’

  ‘I don’t have that information,’ the woman replied. ‘My job is to thank you for notifying the NIA of Ms. Marion’s condition.’

  Okiro looked around the cabin, unsure. ‘A call would have been sufficient.’

  ‘A call could have been tapped.’

  He frowned, ‘By who?’

  ‘Officer, this is a matter of global security. It is very important that you do not discuss Ms. Marion’s matter with anyone; it may jeopardize our chances of bringing her back alive.’

  What has Sky got herself into?

  The woman continued, ‘That is all I am authorized to say for now. In the meantime, we are providing you and your family with enhanced network security.’

  ‘My family?’ He felt a sudden lump in his throat.

  Okiro fired off anxious questions, but the woman kept trying to reassure him that his family would be safe.

  The hopper departed the way it had come.

  Okiro returned to his apartment to find little Elsa wrapped in Penny’s arms. Penny looked up, a question on her lips. He said nothing as he joined them in bed.

  He recalled the moment after the recent Tellinii hack, that night when the Neuronet had gone back online and he had found them at his in-laws, safe and sound. He could not remember ever experiencing a greater relief.

  He held them tighter that night.

  ​11:2

  Sky sensed movement. Something shifted between her body and the bedroom door.

  < Ma’am? >

  The thing cast a shadow over her. Her arm moved, yet she had not intended to do so. The limb felt detached. When she looked at her arm, she saw that it was sheathed in a swarm. There was a gun in her hand. It placed the barrel to her temple and fired.

  < Ma’am? >

  Sky woke, curled up against the door, heart pounding. Her shoulder ached. She remembered where she was, in the telepath colony. She had seen their infected. When the gun had fired in her dream, she had felt a relief.

  < Sorry to wake you, ma’am, but I know you don’t like to waste too much time sleepin’ these days. >

  She sat up. ‘How long?’

  < Just over three hours. >

  Sky stared around the spartan room; a single bed, table, chair, floor. All printed from the gray crust of this crumbling Moon. The sleep had not solved anything; her mother was still comatose, at best, and the telepaths were still infected. Her thoughts crashed against her skull like trapped elephants.

  Dante had said that Earth had created the virus. Could he be telling the truth?

  Telepaths. Messing with your mind.

  Her world was upside down. Who could she trust? Nobody. Not even the ground beneath her. Nothing was solid here, or anywhere, anymore.

  < Ma’am, I can see your thoughts bouncin’ around. Now, I ain’t no therapy program, but I might be able to cut through the crap, if you know what I mean? >

  I could use the help, she thought.

  < I can’t tell whether these telepath folks are the honest kind or not. Frankly, if I was human, I’d be as nervous as a long-tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs. But that Dante feller reckoned you could help him. Looks like they want somethin’ from you. Somethin’ they can’t just take. Seems to me you’ve got a bargaining chip. >

  But what could the telepaths want from her? What did she have to offer? She had no idea. Whatever it was, it had been valuable enough to convince Dante to allow her into the colony without connecting.

  There was the scent of pungent food. She opened the door to find a tray on the ground, a thali, with a multicolored selection of grains and vegetables. She took the tray to the table and ate, cleaning the tray with a remainder of bread.

  Sky took the lift downstairs and approached the empty reception, knocking on the counter several times. A confused-looking clerk popped her head out from the rear office—knocking would be a novelty in a telepath colony. Sky looked directly into the clerk�
�s eyes, ‘Dante, I want your truth. All of it.’

  She would play their game.

  ​11:3

  Sky sat on the edge of a cliff. It was a protrusion from one of the lava tube’s walls, one which the telepaths had turned into a botanical garden. It had an expansive view of the colony. The open space eased her mind.

  She marveled at the ingenuity that had taken an ancient dried-out pipe of lava and transformed it into a living society of humans.

  Despite the height, there was no breeze.

  Her blinking locator arrow showed the whereabouts of her selected target, Dante, as he made his way across the colony toward the gardens. As he neared, her stomach churned. She switched off the locator and waited.

  It was not long before she heard his footsteps approach. They sat in silence for a time. Then he spoke.

  ‘When your synapses begin to align with a new reality, it physically hurts. The more entrenched the lie, the more it hurts to uproot it, the more you rail against it, until new grooves in your mind take shape and you accept your new reality. Nature’s programming takes time.’

  She fought back the urge to grab his thin frame and shake the truth out of him.

  I can do this, she told herself. She would let them come to her. She understood people; she had been in their minds for most of her adult life. She had seen these games of manipulation. If you want something from someone, don’t ask; just create an environment in which they convince themselves that it is in their interests to give it to you.

  ‘I don’t know what to believe.’ There was more truth in her words than she had expected. ‘You say Earth created the virus. Then why do we have a million infected?’

  Dante looked out over the colony, probably conversing with his mind-kin, deciding which lie he would answer with.

  ‘We infected Earth,’ he said.

  Sky replayed his words in her mind, but they failed to make any sense. ‘Did you just say—?’

  ‘We infected Earth,’ he repeated.