by Perrin Briar
Her father could never die in such a prosaic way. His destiny was to die the way he had lived – with fireworks and a blaze of glory. None of the family took notice of such rumors. There had been many like them before, and he always returned from the grave. Much to the chagrin of some family members. Most notably Lucia, Susan’s sister. Though she was only a mouthpiece for her scum-ball husband Reginald. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Susan shook her head to dispel such negative thoughts. They were disrupting her positive energy.
Susan entered her bedroom and opened her wardrobe, drying her hair with a towel and tying it back with a scrunchie. She wasn’t one for shopping or collecting trinkets or shoes or bags. She dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
It was thanks to Rosario that Susan learned of normal people and their everyday struggles. She saw through the difficulties they faced and identified the opportunity it presented for a fulfilling life – a life where you got out whatever you put in. It appealed to her.
She’d seen firsthand what a life of privilege could do to a person, to a family. The Scotts had more skeletons than they had closets to hide them in, all attributed to the fact they never had to work a day in their lives. Susan firmly believed a few knocks, blisters and bruises were essential ingredients for a happy life. Life was not about getting everything you wanted, when you wanted. It was about fighting for what you got, standing on your own two feet before the world and declaring you were here, that you were alive and meant something. It was a life she had been desperate to give Amy.
But Amy would never live the life Susan had hoped. Some days that fact reduced her to tears.
The house was still quiet. Susan creeped across the hall to the second bedroom. This was the one room in the apartment that was messy. A plethora of multicolored toys were heaped along the walls.
The bed had a solar system mobile above it with all the planets arranged in order. Amy was fast asleep on her back with her head to one side, in a land of dreams of her own making.
Susan smiled at her daughter, pride seeping from every pore. How could anyone leave her? She was beautiful. How a father could want no part in how his daughter was brought up or raised, despite living in the same city, was beyond Susan. She knew his reason, but she couldn’t understand. He’d presented an ultimatum for Susan and their relationship, but she wouldn’t listen to him or it, and so they had parted ways.
When Susan had given birth to Amy she’d immediately begun looking for a nanny like the one she’d had, like Rosario. Susan could never have been a stay-at-home mother. She admired women who could, but she didn’t want her life to be controlled by one person, no matter how much she loved her.
She searched and searched, interviewed one applicant after another, but no one had the down-to-earth wholesomeness that Rosario had. And then the thought occurred to her:
Why not simply ask Rosario?
She’d been taking care of a pair of boys when Susan approached her. The boys were almost fully grown now and wouldn’t need her for much longer. If Susan didn’t mind waiting a few months, she would be happy to take the job. A few months waiting for a lifetime of excellent teaching and lessons? It was a no-brainer.
Susan agreed to all of Rosario’s requirements. She wanted every Sunday off, and a week’s holiday in the summer and winter. Susan offered to pay for all the holidays as a thank-you, but Rosario kindly refused.
Everything in Susan’s life she’d earned herself. She didn’t have much because she didn’t need much. An uncluttered life is a life where the problems stand out a mile, Rosario had told her. Susan had taken her advice to heart, and lived a minimalist lifestyle. It was easier to enjoy the simple things when you had nothing to complicate it.
Susan went downstairs and ate some lightly buttered toast. She stared out the window, thinking about nothing in particular. The doorbell rang. Susan opened the door to find Rosario on the front step.
Her once luxurious black hair was now unkempt and fraying, with thick gray and white strands at the temples. Her face was wrinkled with lines that only came with raising other people’s children. She’d put on weight in recent years, having always been so proud of her slim figure. But she still had the warm temperament of a woman born to be a mother.
She had three sons of her own. The tragedy was that while she was working, taking care of others’ kids, she wasn’t at home enough to take care of her own, and so a rift developed between them. She’d lost contact with them long ago. It was a part of Rosario’s life that Susan didn’t like to think about.
“I might be late tonight,” Susan said.
“No problem,” Rosario said. “She’s still upstairs?”
“Fast asleep,” Susan said.
“I might catch a few winks too, then,” Rosario said. “While I can.”
She never needed sleep when Susan was a girl. She was always full of energy, always rushing around, carrying out tasks and jobs, never letting anyone do anything she couldn’t do herself. It was a relief to be able to leave Amy with someone she could rely on.
Susan put on her helmet and pushed her bike outside. She breathed in a deep lungful of air, smiled, and climbed on. It was the start of another beautiful day.
There was one piece of advice from Rosario, tucked deep in the corners of Susan’s mind, that was as far from her thoughts as the drifting clouds, and yet it was that nugget of truth that would come to sum up the next twenty-four hours in Susan Scott’s life:
The darkest of days come from the brightest of moments.
Susan, blissfully unaware, pedaled happily into the new day.
6:32 am
Charlotte was nicknamed the Queen’s City, in honor of Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, who became the Queen of Great Britain just seven years before the town’s incorporation.
A trace of the old world colonialism style still remained, and it always made Susan relax, putting her in her place in the great scheme of things. Some of the buildings had been around for centuries, and would be around for a lot longer yet. Susan and her life were but a blink of an eye. Susan let out a breath with a deep sigh of satisfaction.
The city was already clogged with traffic, horns making soft mewling noises like conversing nightlife. Susan cut through Freedom Park, slowing to swerve around joggers and mums pushing prams. They all wore the concern of a busy life on their brows, rarely taking the time to look up and admire their fortunate situations.
The trees and foliage thinned as Susan approached the wide open space. Here, Tai Chi classes took place, as well as short plays and other performances on summer evenings. Right then, a group class was working on their yoga postures on special mats. Susan squeezed her brakes and pulled to a stop to watch.
“Looking good,” she said.
One of the yoga practitioners at the front of the class, a larger man called Steve, beamed at her. He had a large square chin and thick moustache.
“You know how I like to get my yoga on,” he said. “Focus on my chakras.”
Susan eyed the instructor, an attractive twenty-something in perfect shape. She bent over, exhaling, and all the men in the class eyed her rump with hungry eyes.
“I can see you’re focusing on something,” Susan said.
“You’re just jealous,” Steve said.
Susan shrugged.
“I can’t deny that,” she said.
“Don’t worry, me and the lads still find you attractive,” Steve said. “At least a seven.”
His comment was met with nods of agreement from the others.
“Thanks,” Susan said flatly. “I think. I’m going to work. Some of us have important things to do.”
“Will you quit gabbing?” a fresh-faced young man called Oaks said. “Some of us are actually here to improve ourselves.”
Steve rolled his eyes.
“And she’s about to do the downward facing dog,” another man said.
“See you, Susan,” Steve said, eyes focused and leering at the instructor.
Susan hadn’t once heard any of them complain. They were grateful to still have their lives, and for the care they received. They were a rare breed, brave beyond compare, both a pleasure and an honor to work with. Even if they were constantly fixated on sex.
Susan took her helmet off and approached the crossing on foot. She waited for the lights to turn red and the cars to stop. People were heading to work, the city choked with salarymen and women.
An ambulance screamed in the distance. The drivers pulled to one side and let the ambulance pass, its siren deafening. The moment it came to a stop in front of Charlotte General, the paramedics leaped out, pulled the backdoors open, and placed the stretcher on a trolley.
Susan crossed the road but didn’t approach the hospital. Instead she pushed her bike along a path that wound around to the back of the building to the Research and Development Center. She tucked her bike into a stand and attached a bike lock around the back wheel and frame.
The building was made of glass and metal, in the modern space-conscious design. The main atrium was a tall gherkin with a circular garden in the center. There were few people around at this time in the morning. They operated on a flexi-time system. Employees could come and go as they pleased. A happy workforce was a more productive workforce. At least, that was the theory.
Susan pressed a button for the lift and waited. It was made of glass and slid silently on cables. She hated it. Looking through the walls always made her feel like she was going to fall. It slid into place and Susan got on.
She pressed the button for the fifth floor. There were a total of six floors in the building, including the basement. The doors began to slide closed.
“Going up,” the elevator’s calm female voice said.
“Hold the lift!” a voice said. “Wait!”
Susan hit the hold button. The doors slid open again, revealing a mussy-haired and round-bellied man in his mid-twenties. He had a full-face beard. His glasses were black with thick lenses, very much in vogue. The fashion statement was purely accidental. Phil wore them because he’d owned them for ten years. Everyone’s in fashion at least once in their life, and these days it was Phil.
“Thanks,” Phil said.
The glass doors slid shut.
“Ready for the presentation today?” Phil said.
He always managed to say the wrong thing. Susan had been trying to keep her mind off it all morning.
“Thanks for reminding me,” Susan said.
“Sorry,” Phil said, genuine apology in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” Susan said. “Being reminded of it doesn’t stop the fact it’s still going to happen. Yeah, I’m ready.”
She stiffened as the elevator drew higher, the ground falling away.
“I’d be really nervous if I had to give it,” Phil said. “But you’re always so calm. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Does it help to be nervous?” Susan said.
“No,” Phil said. “I suppose not.”
“Then being nervous can only get in the way,” Susan said with a smile. Another of Rosario’s tenets.
Phil’s brows drew down into a frown. He pursed his lips, in deep thought. Some people never changed much from when they were children. Phil looked just as he did as a child, only a larger version.
The elevator came to a stop. The doors opened. CHILDHOOD DISEASES was written on the wall in a flowing font. A man in a suit got on the elevator and smiled pleasantly at Phil and Susan. He didn’t know either of them. He pressed the button for the third floor.
“Going up,” the elevator voice said.
Phil was silent as the elevator began to move again. He glanced over at Susan, opened his mouth to speak, and then thought better of it. The elevator came to a stop and the man in the suit got off.
“Some people are so lazy,” Phil said. “Taking the elevator for one floor.”
He shook his head. His necks wobbled. He could do with taking a few more stairs, Susan thought.
The third floor was ADVANCED WEAPONRY. The fourth floor was COMA RESEARCH. The fifth floor, Susan’s department, was VIRUS PREVENTION & ADVANCED ROBOTICS. Phil stepped forward, blocking the elevator doors with his girth, as if they were going to suddenly close. He waved Susan through.
“Thanks,” Susan said with a smile.
She paused, starting at the sight of the Advanced Robotics floor. Some of the injured patients were already there, being fitted with prosthetic and robotic limbs. It was a recent line of R&D they’d set up at Charlotte, but they were already making leaps and bounds forward.
The military was a rich and affluent provider of funds. They saw immediately the implications of being able to replace soldier limbs on the battlefield. They were also developing weapons that could attach to the robotic limbs, so soldiers would be able to return to the field and support their brothers.
Most of their subjects were civilians. They had three former soldiers: Steve, Oaks, and the third, a tough lady from Texas called Taylor. She wore a robot leg that could also function as a gun. She stood with it up on a walking bar, leaning over it to aim, and pulled the trigger.
Click!
“Itching to use live ammo?” Susan said.
“Damn skippy,” Taylor said.
“Live practice is next week,” Susan said. “Shall I add your name to the list?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Taylor said. “If you can get some ragheads to shoot at, it’d be much appreciated. Pay them back for my leg.”
Susan smiled.
“I’ll talk with the printers,” she said. “They might be able to get some custom cutouts for you.”
“Who was talking about cutouts?” Taylor said.
Susan laughed at Taylor’s joke. She stopped when she realized Taylor wasn’t smiling. Taylor wasn’t known for her sense of humor.
“Steve and Oaks are doing yoga in the park,” Susan said. “You weren’t up for it?”
Taylor rolled her eyes.
“Yoga’s for pussies,” she said.
An assistant helped Taylor down from the bar. She was relearning how to walk, forcing her body to do things it had forgotten. Taylor was in great shape, and was learning fast.
Sweat poured down the civilians’ faces, exhausted from the exertion. They wiped at their foreheads with a towel and got up to try again. Susan nodded at them as she passed. Phil looked at them shyly. He wasn’t good at being social.
They moved through the department, to the other half of the fifth floor. This space was largely empty, with workbenches full of advanced scientific equipment. It was the VIRUS PREVENTION department. One day it was going to change the world.
“Want a drink with me later?” Phil said.
“Maybe next week,” Susan said.
“One of these days ‘next week’ will actually happen,” Phil said.
“I’m sorry Phil,” Susan said. “I’m just not ready.”
“It’s been two years,” Phil said.
“I’m still not ready,” Susan said.
“Will you ever be ready?” Phil said.
“When I am, yours will be the first drink I accept,” Susan said. “How about that?”
Phil grinned, his mouth as big as his eyes, made larger by his glasses. He looked like the Cheshire Cat.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.
He turned to leave.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, turning back. “We’ve been getting a transmission from the New York facility.”
Susan frowned. She turned to look at the machine at the top of the room. One of Archie’s robotic arms was whirring away, working hard. They weren’t expecting anything from the New York Institute today.
“Any idea what it is?” Susan said.
>
“Not yet,” Phil said. “I asked for details, but they haven’t replied yet.”
Susan nodded.
“They’re probably just running a test,” she said.
Still, they would normally let them know ahead of time. She would have to check it out, just in case. A thick knot grew in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t help but sense something was wrong.
7:14 am
Archie made soft whirring movements as he picked out various chemicals from the shelf on the back wall and put them into a single test tube. It spun around, mixing them together.
The arm constantly moved, never taking a break, twisting and turning in combination, all but impossible with a human’s physiology. Archie was their sequencing machine. He could pull apart complex compounds and rebuild them using 3D printing technology.
The technology was advancing at a terrific rate.
In 2015 a 3D printer was shipped to the International Space Station with the purpose of removing any need to send any products up to the ISS ever again. It would save hundreds of millions of dollars every year.
If someone required a new wrench, the astronauts onboard would simply download the blueprints, feed it into the 3D printer, and it would fashion one for them. They could even create ad hoc changes and alterations as required. And it didn’t stop at tools. It could be used for all kinds of items.
The technology was still in its infancy, but it was already changing the way things were done. The possibilities were limited only by humanity’s imagination, a resource that could be mined indefinitely.
According to Craig Venter, an entrepreneur and pioneer in the genetics industry, it would one day be possible to ship bio sequencers to the surface of a planet we wish to inhabit, and then upload living organisms that would terraform the atmosphere to be conducive to humans. Such things previously only existed in sci-fi books. Now, they were real.
Archie was a sequencer capable of picking apart, backward engineering, and rebuilding any life fed to him. If God had created the universe, the human race would soon have access to his blueprints.