The hangar was devoid of humans. Sky stepped onto the tarmac, wrapping her father’s swarm around his spacesuit.
A maya appeared. It was a contract; the VOL would grant her access to the city on the proviso that she agreed to the VOL constitution, and—given her unique abilities—that she promised to only read minds of those who consented, not otherwise.
In the absence of a better deal, Sky agreed.
A team of medics and their bots arrived, accompanied by the head surgeon of an eminent hospital. They erected a pop-up tent in which to examine her. Sky stripped out of the spacesuit so that medbots could scan and prod Tester’s frame. The head surgeon explained that a variety of companies had promised to pay the cost of her medical bills.
After giving Tester the all-clear, they provided Sky with a business suit for Tester’s body. Sky transformed her own maya clothes into a more formal dress.
When she left the medical tent, a CEO by the name of Rem Singh greeted her. Sky recognized Mr. Singh through her father’s memories; Tester had hacked and manipulated Rem Singh, among others.
‘Sammati,’ he said as he shook her (father’s) hand, ‘and thank you.’
Rem Singh took Sky-in-the-body-of-Tester to the VIP lounge where the spaceport’s grinning CEO and other equally grinning dignitaries awaited. They came in two varieties; banking and finance CEOs, and the heads of powerful families. Some of these elites remembered to express their condolences for her mother as they smiled for the cameras. Some even appeared genuine.
‘In gratitude for your service to freedom,’ Rem Singh announced, ‘we undertake to settle any law suit brought against you or your father.’ Self-congratulatory applause followed. The media cameras buzzed.
Singh leaned in. ‘Our insurers are also hunting down the members of the Som cartel who abducted you. However, it is unlikely that you’ll receive much in compensation from one of them in particular, given that you already took something from him.’ Singh finished the sentence with a knowing grin.
Men and women in shining mulitcolored suits began crowding around her, while Singh’s security detail kept them at bay. ‘I realize this is not the right time,’ he told her, ‘but there are a number of investors here who will offer you licensing contracts for the cure, and even for Geppetto itself. You’re about to become very wealthy.’
‘Licensing? But I didn’t create Geppetto.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Earth alleges that your memories are a fabrication. It is not claiming any ownership of Geppetto, though it is possible that it could do so at a later time.’
‘And what if they do?’
Singh laughed. ‘Let’s just say, our court won’t look kindly upon their case given recent events.’
The surrounding suits called out Sky’s name.
‘Don’t feel pressured to give them an answer now,’ Singh assured her. ‘I recommend you get yourself a good team of negotiators before you agree to anything. I can arrange that for you.’ He patted her on the shoulder and stepped aside.
The investors bombarded Sky with offers of advertising deals, exclusive sim contracts, and licensing rights to Geppetto. It was like a scene from the old Wall Street trading floor. Sky could hardly make out the individual offers. Were they not aware of the horrors she had just experienced? She retreated inside herself.
Singh’s right, her father said. Walk away. You need space. There will be time for this.
Sky raised her palm as if to shield herself. ‘Not now,’ she told the crowd, backing away. Rem Singh placed himself in between Sky and her disappointed suitors and assured them that there would be plenty of time for negotiations after Sky had rested.
Singh escorted her through empty corridors to an auto station, a bay for hover-vehicles. ‘I have arranged quarters for you.’
A hover-limo zoomed into the bay and landed. ‘A gift. Yours to keep,’ he said as the limo doors opened.
‘The ride or the limo?’
Singh laughed. ‘The limo, of course.’
Sky peered into the vehicle, stunned. ‘Uh… thank you,’ she said, though it sounded like a question.
‘Actually, the gift is from a former business partner of yours. You’ll have time to thank him after you rest.’ Singh offered his hand and Sky shook it, still clueless as to the identity of the gift giver. Rem Singh said goodbye and left Sky with her very first personal auto.
She stepped inside and took a seat. It was spacious. There was no driver compartment. A thin android sat opposite her—instead of a head, the android had an old-fashioned flat screen which was lowered and inactive. Along the top of the screen were the words “Ahmadi, Lysander & Brine”.
Lysander. The name was familiar, at least to her father. Thomas Lysander was the company head, known for using screen communications because he was paranoid about being hacked.
For good reason, Sky thought.
She saw more of her father’s memories… a meeting between Rem Singh and Lysander. It appeared Lysander had orchestrated the hit on the Som cartel.
‘Former business partner, indeed,’ she smiled.
The limo rose and began to wind its way through the domes. Sky turned on the news to hear Earth’s reaction to recent events; Earth’s security council had denied Sky’s memories were real. It argued that offworld entities had hacked Sky and planted false memories to cause enmity between Earth and the VOL. Federator Two-Eagle had taken full responsibility for the “planted memories” breach and had offered her resignation to the Security Council.
Two-Eagle’s resignation was little consolation to Sky. The federator had ordered the death of Winona Marion and countless others before her. The federator deserved a sanction more proportionate to her crimes.
This is not the end of it, Sky told herself. Two-Eagle’s time would come, and Sky was determined to make it sooner rather than later.
There was no news on the Tellinii-infected patients at Detroit General Hospital, the ones Sky had healed. She was unable to access the hospital via the net.
Nothing in Earth’s newsfeed suggested that any Earth citizen had witnessed Sky’s memories.
VOL commentators painted Earth as the totalitarian villain—while Sky, Winona, and Billy-Jay were the freedom-loving heroes. But for Sky, it was not a simple matter of good and evil. She could understand the logic that had resulted in her father’s actions. The NIA agents who had hunted her had little choice, too. For Sky, life had become a series of causes and effects; everyone, everything, bouncing off each other in accordance with laws—the programmed code of the universe—and blaming each other for the collisions.
Some in the VOL media were in a frenzy. ‘Earth has breached the Declaration,’ they cried. ‘The breach of an agreement must be rectified or sanctions imposed.’ Legal experts debated whether Earth’s breach meant that the VOL was automatically in a state of war or whether the VOL had to withdraw from the Declaration for war to resume. Protesters chanted, ‘Terminate the Declaration. Seize their assets.’ VOL prime investors had scheduled an urgent meeting and there were multiple reports that warships from Mars and surrounding colonies were heading to Apollo.
Though Sky had sparked this fire, she felt utterly helpless in the midst of it. She did not want more people to suffer as a result of these intra-solar powerplays. Some of her mind-kin opposed the cries for war, some did not care, while others thought it a necessary evil.
‘Driver,’ Sky called.
‘Yes, madam?’ the limo replied.
‘I’d like to take a detour before we go to my quarters.’
‘Certainly madam, where do you wish to go?’
‘The Catacombs.’
19:2
The limo landed at the Catacombs auto station. Sky’s mind-kin had already broadcast her intentions, so when she exited the limo she met a cordon of android security guards who were holding back a crowd. Two of the guards had swarms circling their feet, making them appear as if they were walking on storm clouds.
The memories of her last visit to
the Catacombs weighed on Sky’s mind. Though she could not recall the act itself, she knew—as did everyone else—that she had murdered Som Razer’s tertiary back-up bodies. Her mind-kin assured her it had been a virtuous act. She did not agree, but she decided to put her concerns aside for the moment and focus on the task at hand.
The guards escorted Sky to the center of the Catacombs, filled with the living; parents, family, lovers and friends, silent and hopeful, huddled along rows and columns of infected. Most of the crowd were better dressed and fed than what Sky recalled of the Ground dwellers.
Some of her own mind-kin were among them, in person; these stood out like family. She allowed them inside the circle of guards and greeted them with silent embraces.
Sky surveyed the Catacombs, with rows and levels of stasis patients. A portion were victims of the Tellinii virus. She thordered Geppetto to heal them.
One by one, the term Tellinii disappeared from the medical manifestos. Gasps of joy echoed throughout the Catacombs.
The stasis patients began to wake, drowsy and confused. Some could not recognize the loved ones who now fawned over them.
The first time Sky had attempted to drop her memories into the VOL, into the minds of telepath reporters, Federator Two-Eagle had traced and hacked the recipients with the Tellinii virus. The virus had spread to others in the telepaths’ networks and infected over two hundred more before it was contained. Only seven survived. They were brought to the Catacombs. Geppetto had infected them and, now, thanks to Sky, Geppetto had healed them.
Each renewed life helped stem the bleeding from Sky’s own loss.
As she walked through the crowd, she spotted the Bellringer, Dr. Yukawa, sitting in his whirring exoskeleton on top of a stack of cubicles. He had what Sky assumed was a smile; it was difficult to tell because his overall demeanor had a distinctly wistful air about it. Sky blinked and he was gone.
Once Geppetto had cured the last of the patients, an emptiness tugged at her. Her mind turned to those she had left behind on Earth, still infected, and those who had already succumbed to the virus’ final stages. She was powerless to help them.
An android approached her security cordon, its spidery legs click-clacking. Sky recognized it as Mym Mento’s assistant. Its legs had been repaired or replaced. The machine said nothing. Instead, a figure appeared from behind it, a mature woman aided by a walking stick. She was less than a meter tall. Even so, Sky recognized her as Mym Mento.
Mym clutched the hand of a revived patient, a man of ordinary height who shuffled about with a look of bewilderment. Sky made her way to the woman, who spoke first, ‘I’m sorry for—’ but Sky shook her head, putting an end to an unnecessary apology. Sky kneeled down and embraced her. Mym was warm and smelled of frangipani flower. This was Mym Mento in the flesh, the woman behind the walls of technology. Tears welled in her eyes. ‘You proved me wrong, girlie.’
A mother and child reunited.
Sky had healed all she could. What she needed now, most of all, was to escape. To escape from the memories of her suffering. To escape from a body that was not hers. From a mind that never was. With the last of her mental energy spent, Sky collapsed.
But there was no impact with the cold floor. Instead, she felt arms and minds around her. Her mind-kin had sensed her condition and caught her as she fell. They carried her. She was theirs and they were hers. They would care for her now.
Sky dipped into the deep well of her mind-kin and surfed their thoughts as she once had Detroit’s citizens’. Only this time, the experience was mutual.
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Okiro woke to white.
Blinding white.
Voices.
Baritones. Men?
What were they saying?
Chuckling.
What were they laughing at?
He felt a hand on his. A soft hand.
The glare eased, as did the voices.
Two figures, side-by-side. One much smaller than the first. Squeals. Smiles.
‘Penny?’
A kiss on his cheek.
‘Elsa?’
His young daughter was sitting on the end of his hospital bed.
‘See Momma, I told you he’d be back soon,’ she beamed.
Okiro tried to recall how he had come to be here. The memory was on the tip of his tongue… ‘What happened?’
Penny sat beside him, ‘The doctor said you’d been infected with a neurovirus.’
‘How?’
‘In the line of duty, apparently,’ Penny said with mock pride, teasing him. ‘But they won’t give us any more details.’
‘It’s classified,’ Elsa beamed. ‘Are you a spy, Daddy?’
Okiro laughed and gave her a wink, ‘Don’t tell anyone, okay?’ Elsa clasped her mouth with one hand and responded with vigorous nodding. He put her arms around her and gave her a squeeze.
He tried to recall what had happened… he had been in a hospital, perhaps this very one. He had come to visit Sky. He saw her… that can’t be… he saw her hack two NIA agents. He had picked up a taser and stunned her… and that was it, he could remember no more.
Okiro could hardly believe his own mind. What had happened to Sky? Had the brainbenders got to her? None of this made any sense.
‘What’s wrong?’ Penny asked.
He smiled, ‘Nothing. I was just—’
‘They’re going to give you a medal, Daddy!’
‘A what?’
‘Medal of Valor, to be precise,’ Penny said with a hint of displeasure.
‘Medal of Valor?’ Okiro looked at Elsa with an exaggerated expression of surprise. She giggled.
‘And it had better be your last,’ Penny told him.
‘Believe me,’ Okiro said, ‘if I did risk my life in the pursuit of duty, it was entirely unintentional.’
Penny seemed to accept his apology—she kissed him. He realized she had been holding his hand the entire time.
Elsa bombarded her mother with questions about the medal ceremony. As they talked, Okiro could not shake the feeling that there was something out of place. What had happened during those minutes (or hours?) deleted from his brain? Something had been taken from him without his consent and it bugged him. Each time he tried to access the memories his mind went blank.
But there was something in that void… it did not have form or sound or anything; it was a presence. It was the same feeling he had around Sky Marion. Something told him she was at peace. Where this thought had come from, he did not know. It was as if he were inside her mind, experiencing her joy…
Perhaps one day he would piece it all together. But for now, Elsa snuggled under the covers and he held the hand of the woman he loved.
His family was safe, and that was all that mattered.
Acknowledgments
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading my novel. I hope the journey was interesting enough to justify your effort in getting here.
As a self-published (indie) author, I don’t have the marketing power of a publishing house. Instead, I rely on word of mouth (ideally telepathy, if you have the tech for it).
If you think a friend might like Neurotopia, please let them know. If you can find the time, please write a review, whether it be on the platform you accessed Neurotopia or another site. A single sentence from you can make all the difference to a new author who has five kids to feed (okay, it’s more like two.)
I have often wondered why I write make-believe, and why I wish to share it with others. Like most writers (or maybe it’s just me?) I am so involved in my inner world that my real-world human connections tend to suffer. Sometimes I feel like there’s a transparent swarm between me and everyone else. Writing may be a way for me to connect with others on a level which I have struggled to achieve in person.
Whether you enjoyed the book or hated it, I would love to hear your thoughts; what did you like, dislike, and how might I make the story better? Did you find any plot holes or character p
roblems? Did I mess up any of the science?
You don’t need a PhD in literary criticism to help improve a story, you’re already an expert; you are a reader and you had reactions and those reactions are good.
I am truly grateful that you have taken the time to journey through my mind. I would be honored for an opportunity to experience the world through yours…
ATTENTION
This is a brain-to-brain connection request from… TONY MOHOROVICH, [email protected]
www.tonymohorovich.com
WARNING: Connecting to an untrusted source may void your security and health insurances and result in neurovirus infection.
Do you wish to proceed (not recommended)?
Acknowledgements (my telepath colony)
NOTE: As this is my first novel, I will thank practically everyone I have ever known. If you don’t fall into this category, you’re about to be bored to tears…
Jasmine, for your encouragement, support, and patience over the years (as well as manuscript feedback and proofreading). Kasia and Laeto, for asking me when the book will be finished so we can buy stuff.
My mum (whose babysitting made this novel possible) and dad and brother Dennis, for family.
Dr. Paramjit Kaur, for your support and putting up with a creative son-in-law.
Speaking of family: Bernadette Arribe, Suneet Sandhu, Navneet Sandhu, Aonkar Padam, for asking how the book is going. Isabel Mohorovic, Surat Sandhu, and Simran Sandhu for being cute and so you can tell your classmates you’re in the acknowledgements of a book.
Lee Jessup, Screenwriter career coach, for instilling the value of writing craft, and for molding Neurotopia into an intelligible story. www.leejessup.com
Joel Naoum of Critical Mass Consulting, publishing guru, for giving me the advantages of indie publishing to the standard of a traditional publisher. www.critmassconsulting.com
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