Shades

by Eric Dallaire

  **Lazarus-440: Handle with care. Property of IRS**

  **WARNING: Biohazard**

  “Doctor, your patient is awake,” the nurse called out, summoning a crowd of unfamiliar and familiar faces. Dr. Okono, garbed in a clean white lab coat, entered first. A pair of male nurses trailed behind. They poured over the digital readouts from machines attached to my body. Then came the familiar face of Barnaby, wearing a new jet-black suit, silver-tinted sunglasses, and his usual stoic mask. Behind him shimmered the v-casting form of Erasmus. He glided across the room, his hands folded, and his face bearing an expression of relief. Vanessa entered next with a look of happiness and love. She approached, kissed my forehead, and held my hand.

  “There is one final injection to administer,” Dr. Okono said. “It's an immunosuppressant, a necessary precaution so he won't reject this serum treatment. It has to be in the neck. Jonah, this will only sting for a moment.” He waited for approval. Barnaby looked to Erasmus, who nodded in consent, and Dr. Okono pulled forth a long syringe with a bluish-tinged fluid. He bent over my bed, drawing near to my head. The syringe pierced the flesh of my neck, just missing my carotid artery. Then Dr. Okono tapped his white wrist-com. I assumed he was monitoring my vitals. The TauK Network interface appeared, and I realized he sent me a private message.

  <>

  “All signs are stable,” said the attending nurse, pointing to a holographic x-ray of my body, showing alternating updates on my circulatory, nervous, and endocrine systems.

  “Better than stable, in fact. They're perfect,” corrected Dr. Okono. “All signs of cellular degeneration are reversing. The serum is working.”

  Only visible to my eye, a different looking interface, tinged with a soft blue lettering, appeared with a welcome assessment of my health.

  <>

  “Praise to Him. Thank you for your gift Dr. Okono,” whispered Erasmus, invoking the sign of the cross with his hand. “How do you feel, my son?”

  “Like I've been to hell and back,” I responded, flexing my hands to increase circulation of my blood.

  “An apt description,” Erasmus agreed. “You have done a great service for your country and for many lost souls.”

  “Thank you,” I muttered, still sore and feeling a pounding pain in my limbs, despite the doctor's upbeat appraisal of my condition.

  “Speaking of souls,” I asked, “what about Dr. Okono's research? What about the shades and the serum? What's going to happen?”

  The room went dead silent. Everyone exchanged glances. Erasmus looked up, and Barnaby frowned.

  “We convinced the Lunar Senate to stall Tomoe's rocket launches temporarily,” Barnaby answered. “A summary of Okono's research is currently under review at our highest level of government. The corporations have hired their own teams of experts and lawyers. They have already attempted to discredit Okono--”

  “Our brothers and sisters of the New Church are also evaluating the research,” Erasmus interjected. “There are dissenters among us too, but I am confident truth will prevail. We will not support any further shade development if the research is verified. Which I suspect it will be.”

  “This is an extremely delicate situation.” Barnaby added, “Before the IRS takes an official position, I'll need to deliver a full brief to the Deputy Chief. Then committees will form to order more reviews and referendums. This process…it will take time. Regardless of what Earth's decision is, the moon cities and the system colonies may invoke their autonomy. They will resist any changes to the status quo.”

  “And Gabriel?” I asked.

  “We are pursuing charges against him. Goliath Corporation's Board of Directors has suspended him as CEO pending an inquiry. They are cooperating with the Lunar Senate, but as expected, they blame Spenner for the entire scheme. Gabriel will face sanctions, maybe, but putting him in prison will be...difficult. Especially with his family's veiled threats of secession.”

  “Most difficult indeed,” Erasmus concurred.

  “Which brings us back to you, Jonah,” Barnaby said. “Your serum is different than the shades. Your body and soul are intact…but you will need more injections until your formula is perfected. If ever...”

  Barnaby pushed an old-fashioned manila folder toward me. It spoke a volume that he still kept paper files in an age where a youth today would look at a sheet of paper and admire how thin the super-computer looked.

  “That serum that's keeping you alive isn't cheap. And...” He paused for emphasis, opening the file to a spreadsheet highlighting itemized costs. It was a hefty bill for my hospital stay tacked onto an astronomical fee for the experimental serum coursing in my veins. “You owe your government. We need you to help us with a few more jobs to pay off your debt.” Realizing that he sounded too gruff, even for Barnaby, his tough countenance softened. Then he sighed. “The truth is, you're one of the best. We need you, Jonah. The world needs you. Especially if we hope to make changes on Earth and on the moon...”

  Ever uncomfortable with his counterpart’s tough approach, Erasmus walked toward me with arms outstretched and a genuine look of empathy. “There are so many lost souls.” His v-cast projected form flickered ever so slightly from the movement across the room. “Many of our trusting flock have been wrongfully sentenced to infinite service by the schemes of Gabriel and Ms. Gozen. These innocents…they must be set free. I know the work will be hazardous, but you will be well compensated. As for Vanessa, no matter what you decide, we would appreciate her counsel in the coming Reformation.”

  Barnaby and Erasmus continued to discuss details of their plans for me and how there would be big changes coming for both Earth and space citizens. However, it became difficult to focus on them. Their voices quieted but their mouths continued to move. The entire room blurred around me. As they talked, Dr. Okono communicated with me through the private TauK Network.

  “I injected you with an update to your serum,” he said for my ears only. “The genetic coding in your serum is being re-programmed, so that Barnaby and Erasmus will not detect it. The first formula they administered to you was imperfect, requiring expensive, constant injections with progressively larger doses. Even with constant treatment, you would have died within two years. My new serum will correct those flaws. At this moment, the new injection I gave you is modifying your code to repair several critical bugs.” It was difficult to put into words how receiving a software patch for my body felt, other than strange. Closing my eyes and focusing my mind, I responded using the TauK Network.

  “Will I live?” I asked Dr. Okono, aware of how stupid that sounded only after the thoughts became words in the private network.

  “You will die eventually, like all of us are meant to...but it will not be due to a defect in my new formula. God willing you will die of natural, old age. And when you do, my research, my damn cursed work, will die with you. Finally, this update also adds an important new feature improvement.”

  “What do you mean by 'feature'? I asked. Then another message flashed before my eyes.

  <>

  His final update to my ShadeOS was also the last. Dr. Okono removed my digital leash. He had set me free.

  “The obedience algorithm, the ShadeOS, a core function in all serum formula…it was an integral part of your first treatment. However, at this moment, my update to your system is changing that. I give you a new Operating System. I give you back choice.” When those words sunk in, I smiled. A sense of freedom and joy came over me.

  “How can I repay you?”

  “Live. Love. Choose. Help people as you see fit,” he answered. “Barnaby wishes to compel you to do more work for the IRS. They will want to retire the shades whose timers had been extended for unlimited afterdeath. After that, maybe they'll want to save even more of them. One day, I hope all of the shades will find rest, so my name will not be stained forever
. Perhaps their objectives will align with your desires…or not.”

  I nodded, taking a moment to grapple with Dr. Okono's message. Should it be my job to speed around space retiring overdue shades? Maybe as payback for a second chance at life, I needed to do more good? A rival thought encouraged me to abandon all responsibility and escape with Vanessa to the Lunar Spire. We could begin a new life.

  “Whatever your decision, it will be the right one, and you will be free,” Dr. Okono said with a warm smile. “I wanted to thank you for saving me and resurfacing the truth of my research. You can call me here if you ever need me again.” A soft tap on my shoulder broke my concentration and the link to the TauK Network. Barnaby noticed my inattentive expression and looked irritated.

  “Are you listening, Jonah?” Barnaby asked. “For a second there I thought you passed out on us. Now, where were we--”

  “Perhaps we should let him sleep,” Erasmus suggested. “He has endured so much. We can speak with him in the morning.”

  “You're right. Jonah, get some rest, and then set your affairs in order,” Barnaby said, rubbing his wounded arm. “In a week, you and I will be heading to Mare Nubium. We suspect there's a group of expired shades in the new colony…” His voice was firm and forceful. It was the tone of an order from a master, one that anyone coded with the serum would need to obey.

  I nodded, deciding not to divulge the change Dr. Okono made to my bio-chemistry. Tomorrow, I would walk out of the hospital room a free man. After a week, I would see if the serum's obedience protocol would activate and compel me to follow Barnaby's order.

  After everyone left to let me sleep again, I realized I was late for my lunch date with Vanessa. Sasha was kind enough to hack a VIP table reservation tomorrow night at La Vie, the finest restaurant atop the Lunar Spire. With minimal effort, she made sure the bill would be sent to Barnaby. I was sure he would find a way to expense it...

  CHAPTER 23

  Epilogue

  “Dawn, let the infant speak, let the child leap,

  Sunrise, let the boy fly, let the mother cry.

  Sunset, let the moonlight creep, let the father sleep,

  Dusk, let that man come back to weep.”

  - Excerpt from “Unto Dusk And Other Poems”, by Sasha

  >> DATE: October 23rd, 2039. One month after Louisiana mission.

  >> TIME: 10:52 PM.

  >> LOCATION: Mons Ares settlement, Mars.

  The red planet lived up to its name. Endless tracts of barren, rust-colored earth welcomed us while the slender deep-space shuttle descended. Unlike my last rocket trip, this time I enjoyed a comfortable paid seat like a typical passenger. Although the supply ship lacked first class luxury, I was able to enjoy the last of my smuggled beer and packaged dinner while the shuttle made a smooth landing onto the western hemisphere of Mars.

  “To health and new adventures,” Vanessa toasted. We both smiled and our glasses met, creating that pleasing clinking sound. It wasn’t the top of the Lunar Spire like in my dreams, but it was close enough for me.

  “I really appreciate that you came with me.”

  “Of course, Jonah,” Vanessa replied with a warm smile. “I wouldn't let you face this alone. I'm here for you.”

  We departed the shuttle with a mixed group of prospectors, engineers, and star-struck pioneer colonists, all of them eager to create a new life on the next frontier. Unlike these passengers, I was not here for a new life, and I was not staying long.

  At Mons Ares, the largest port on Mars, we walked beneath the domed town looking to hire a guide. The small town rested on a plateau, and consisted of a landing bay, a central defense tower, and a clutch of supply shops catering to the needs of settlers. Construction crews erected a steel barrier between the two sides of the nascent colony. Electronic displays suspended over the wall advised that shades were welcome on the west side, but not the east side. Perhaps these were signs of things to come? After a few inquiries, we found a miner who owned a ramble-rover capable of crossing the hard terrain of the Outer Boundary. Unlike the moon, Mars was years away from having an interconnected series of tubes and chutes.

  “It'll cost twenty-five-hundred,” said the guide in a gruff voice. I could barely see his thin lips through his thick salt and pepper beard. Fine red dust covered his once-white utility suit. “It'll take one day. You'll have to bring your own supplies…and I'm leaving in an hour. Mons Ares Control Tower is forecasting a big storm tomorrow. I don't want my ass twisting in an electric dust storm.” His eyes narrowed while he waited to see if the terms were agreeable.

  Two taps on my wrist-com transferred the money. Satisfied, he nodded and led us to his vehicle. Calling it a 'jalopy' would have been a kindness. Its dented, scarred chassis hinted at the treacherous terrain that vehicle had weathered. There were more patches than original tire showing on the wheels, micro-asteroid punctures covered the roof and hood, and the armored front bumper was bent from collisions with countless rocks.

  “Will this even go five miles?” Vanessa whispered, smirking. I nodded and we entered the rover through a dented side hatch. With a grumbling roar, the fat-tired buggy lumbered down the winding mountain path out of Mons Ares. The jalopy lived up to its initial promise as the most uncomfortable ride imaginable. With its shock absorbers beyond repair long ago, Vanessa and I felt every bump along the grueling ride.

  An hour into the trip, a video message from my mother flashed across my wrist-com. The news brought a wide smile to my face. The IRS agents had left her neighborhood. She thanked me for settling her bills. She concluded by saying she loved me, and that I needed to visit. Though I had a nagging doubt, Barnaby came through on his promise to clear her slate for my service. Now there was just one more matter to fix.

  Every few miles, the onboard computer chirped our travel time estimates, reminding me of Sasha. She left my wrist-com ten days ago on her search to find the White Djinn. The evasion code we wrote together would keep her safe from the datanet's tracker hounds, I repeated to myself. We agreed to rendezvous in another week, and pool our talents if she had not found Oscar. To take my mind off worrying about her, I chatted with Vanessa about what we should do for our next vacation. Touching my wrist-com, she displayed a brochure for a tourism company specializing in off-world adventures. This one offered halo-jumps down the central, vertical chute of the Lunar Spire. I told her, with regrets, that I was retired from jumping out of buildings. We compromised on visiting Paris.

  We watched the stars together for hours. The brother moons of Mars, Deimos and Phobos, perhaps curious about our journey, followed us as we scaled up and down red hills.

  * * *

  Swirls of glowing brown dust heralded the outer fringes of the coming storm. Pushing on, we drove to the next mining outpost on the furthest boundary of the settled territory. A rugged road, dug by the hands of a thousand shades, wove around the side of a massive rock outcropping and wound into a cave entrance. The rover's front lights illuminated the rough-hewn walls of the underground passage as we descended into the mine. A quarter-mile down, when the path slimmed too much, the guide stopped, and issued a stern warning.

  “Yer’ walkin’ from here,” he yelled over the echoing clatter of digging machines. “Get your business done in forty-five minutes. With or without you, I'm heading back to Mons Ares before that storm hits.”

  I gave a look to Vanessa, as if to say that I would be fine if she wanted to stay. She grabbed my hand, nodded, and followed me down to the last level of the cave. We passed another team of shades lifting large chunks of a black and gray ore.

  At the bottom, we found our target. Standing in the middle of a pack of other diggers, I spied a tall shade in shabby, tattered utility clothes. Despite an emaciated form, his wide back and long arms hinted at the more muscular body he possessed during his former life. His massive hands ripped a chunk of sparkling rock from the wall without any apparent strain. I watched for several minutes, transfixed with this being be
fore me. He worked with a dedicated purpose, doubling the output of all the others around him, a work ethic that afterdeath never quelled. My eyes focused on those large hands. I remembered them lifting me high in the air even when I was a teenager, supported by his strong back. When I was young, the gentleness of those strong hands comforted me with a touch to the shoulder after I had a bad day or the time I struck out at the plate during my team's playoff baseball game. Even in this sad state, my proud father showed the same drive that pushed him in life.

  I went to him and whispered a private conversation. I uttered words for grief, words for love, words for peace, words for hope, and words for forgiveness. Then his servitude and pain ended with one bullet. I shed no tears for this mercy.

  Vanessa and I walked out with plenty of time remaining to reach our guide. During the ride back, I considered my next move. I thought about helping the IRS full-time, saving shades cursed with infinite timers. Staring up to the sky, I considered David Solomon's offer for a job with Titan Tech. While thoughts of my future flitted through my mind, the dark pink surface of the Phobos moon skimmed near Mars’ surface. Deimos, twinkled further away, following its lunar brother. Those clockwork, celestial movements helped me forget my earthly concerns.

  For now, I wanted to enjoy my freedom with Vanessa. Under this alien sky, I took her in my arms and kissed her the whole way back to Mons Ares, turning an uncomfortable trip back into a time of wonderful bliss. I felt like celebrating. I felt like living.

  I had settled my debts.