Athena's Choice

by Adam Boostrom

  Informally divided by the placement of furniture, the cabin’s main room contained two separate spaces. On one end sat the kitchen. That end contained a shiny, black, countertop food-printer; two lev-chairs; and a small, self-cleaning kitchen table hooked into the floor. On the other end sat the living room. That end possessed a couch located next to a family-sized 3D projector. Wide windows bordered the main room on three sides. The fourth side comprised an interior wall, which served to separate the main room from the cabin’s two private bedrooms. On what little wall-space the room did enjoy hung a dozen oil paintings, depicting the nearby lake at sunset, in various shifting hues of pink, teal, and apricot. Next to the paintings grew lilies planted inside specialized grooves.

  Bee-lining directly to the food printer, Athena retrieved from within a toasted, probiotic, cream-cheese bagel that had been freshly printed to meet her body's nutritional and bacterial needs. Breakfast in hand, she seated herself at the kitchen table. With a swirl of her finger, she activated her news-app. Immediately, recent headlines took up center stage on her display:

  Current Most Popular News:

  Top story: Lazarus Genome Stolen! — *Dismiss*

  Top story: Hurricane Headed directly for Atlanta! — *Dismiss*

  Top Story: “18 E. Mars” co-stars dating in real life! — *Select*

  Athena bit into her creamy breakfast and savored its flavor. Simultaneously, she read from her display the only news of the day which interested her in the slightest.

  After their rocky beginning in episode one, few would have guessed the sudden chemistry to develop between good girl, Chambray, and bad girl, Madison, but the two have been spotted out together at 2 of Mars’ poshest restaurants…

  At the conclusion of her breakfast, Athena set her empty plate onto the kitchen table. In response, the table guided the plate to a hole located directly in its center. From there, the plate passed down through the floor to be cleaned by an underground dishwasher and then carried back up, through seamless connections, into the food printer’s storage space. As usual, Athena did not bother to watch the mundane process.

  Instead, she headed over to a section of hidden, in-wall cabinetry. From inside, she pulled out a fresh canvas, a brush, and an assortment of paints: all the supplies she would need for her morning’s work.

  As she had done countless times before, Athena made her way outside, down a stone path, and to the easel parked by the water’s edge. She seated herself facing the lake, and prepared to paint the morning away. Unlike all those other mornings, however, instead of recreating the picturesque scene before her, Athena’s brush breathed new life into an image not previously present in her world — save for the vivid picture forcing its way onto her mind’s eye. Her strokes were swift as she skillfully worked to outline, color, contour, and shadow. Gradually, the haunting ruin of a mysterious, crumbling building came into view.

  The NAU Times

  January 20th, 2091

  ‘Lonely Hearts’ Storm Capital, March in Favor of So-Called ‘Project Lazarus’

  CHICAGO — (AP) — On the fortieth anniversary of the death of the last man on earth, approximately two hundred and fifty thousand women took to the streets of the capital today. While blocking numerous major intersections, they chanted slogans like, “Right the Wrong!” and “Cure Men Now!” as they marched en masse to a rally at the North American Freedom Monument.

  The peaceful protest served as an attempt to raise further support for a potential government program tasked with finding a cure to the ubiquitous Y-Fever. Although no one has died from the Fever in over three decades, everyone alive today is still a carrier of the disease. As such, returning men to existence will require first finding a Y-Fever cure.

  While originally intended as a term of derision, the sobriquet “lonely hearts” has been embraced by the group in recent years. About the name, congresswoman Jane Chen, a leading figure within the pro-man movement, noted, “If our opponents choose to mistake our honest vulnerability for weakness, then that is their disadvantage. We know who we are, and we’re not afraid to say how much we long for the return of our husbands, sons, and brothers.”

  Surveys conducted last week indicate that support for the so-called ‘Project Lazarus’ has been growing of late. While only 30% of respondents in 2080 thought that resurrecting the male gender was “important” or “very important,” today that number has grown to over 50%.

  Top scientists, however, tried to urge caution, reminding the public of the difficulty inherent in any attempt to find a cure.

  “It is a lot easier to scramble an egg, than to unscramble it,” said Dr. Grace Antares, head scientist and CEO at Helix, a world-renowned research facility. “We’ve studied the Fever, and it needs to be known, this is not just some common-cold. The military-men who created that virus — mistakenly thinking they could control it — genetically-engineered it to kill in twenty-six different ways. That’s how it was able to achieve such complete lethality. That’s why curing every method of its infection, addressing every line of its attack will be so difficult. We have to make sure that there are no unintended consequences for the women who still carry the disease today. In fact, we still don't even know why some women fell victim to the virus while the vast majority appear to be completely immune. If we’re not careful, if we don’t take the time to fully understand what we're dealing with here, a lot more lives may be lost before a single man is born. At some point, we may need to ask ourselves as a society: is the cause of resurrecting men really worth the risk?”

  June 8, 2099

  4

  “I don’t care how smart the stupid AI is,” complained Captain Bell, unmoved from her desk all morning. Adorning the walls of her private office, countless commendations, government medals, and civic awards offered proof of her distinguished career in service to the department of Public Safety. “Why can’t the machine just tell us what makes this Vosh girl so goddamn important? Why does it think we can’t recover the Lazarus Genome without her?” Captain Bell’s pale cheeks flushed bright red.

  On the other side of her desk, the captain’s commanding officer leaned forward from her lev-chair. As she moved, several of the medals pinned to her uniform began to clink together.

  “Absolutely, Bell. I hear you,” declared the Public Safety Chief Commissioner. She crossed her legs, and leaned back. “But you know how hard it is to get authorization for an inquiry like that. If the most powerful AI on earth has calculated that explaining to us its reason for highlighting the Vosh girl may endanger lives, then we must take the intelligence at its word. Request denied.” The commissioner flicked her hand to the side, dismissing Captain Bell’s formal petition to access the internal logs of the planet’s most famous supercomputer.

  “Besides,” the commissioner added, “I believe we are still capable of completing a proper investigation on our own — without help from the machines. Are we not?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied the captain. “I will not let you down.”

  Other than the noises made by the two women, not a sound could be heard inside Captain Bell’s hermetically-sealed office. The din of the surrounding world had been completely blocked out.

  “Speaking of which…” the commissioner continued, “where are we on this case? The CEO of Helix — Dr. Antares — she’s a very good friend of mine. If someone stole her genome, I want them found, and I want them brought to justice.”

  Captain Bell took a minute to clear her throat. “Yes, ma’am, that’s understood. I have three teams working it.” She swiped her finger into the air, sending the chief commissioner a full-write-up of every detail that she was about to explain. “My best people are still tracing the initial hack into the Helix mainframe. It looks like whoever stole the code for the Lazarus Genome hid their location by using about two thousand proxy servers first. But don’t worry. We’ll find the source.”

  The commissioner nodded calmly.

  “A second team is going through the recordings of e
veryone who’s spoken out publicly in opposition to Project Lazarus — that is, anyone who might have motive to steal the genome in order to prevent men from returning. Obviously, that includes all the members of ‘Women First,’ but they are far from the only anti-man group out there. You’ve also got your ‘Never Forgetters’ down in Florida, and the ‘VMR’ group out west — that last one stands for ‘Violence, Murder, and Rape.’ According to them, that’s the sum total of the male legacy. Any one of these groups could have had the means to conduct the genome theft, but none of them have any history of serious law-breaking, aside from some minor arrests for disorderly conduct.”

  The commissioner kept nodding.

  “And team three…” Captain Bell paused for a moment to vigorously roll her royal blue eyes, “team three has been assigned to bring in that Vosh girl for me.” She shook her head.

  The commissioner recrossed her legs. “Excellent, Bell. Keep me posted.”

  An unexpected knock sounded at the door. Both the captain and the commissioner looked to their displays to see the projected image of the knocker: one of Captain Bell’s junior officers.

  “This won’t take a minute, ma’am,” apologized the captain. With a two-fingered swipe, she opened her door. “What is it?” she asked of the intruder.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, captain,” the junior officer stammered, “but the heli-car we sent to pick up Ms. Vosh has almost arrived. Would you like me to notify her of it?”

  Slowly, a sly smile fell over the pale face of Captain Valerie Bell. “No, officer. Please do not notify Ms. Vosh at this time…” Her grin expanded mischievously. “Do not notify that girl of anything. Have the car wait for me to finish speaking with the commissioner. This is a job I want to do myself.”

  The NAU Times

  August 14th, 2094

  Project Lazarus a “Go”

  CHICAGO — (AP) — “And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with grave clothes… And Jesus said unto them, loose him, and let him go out into the world.”

  — John 11:44

  Today, in a landmark vote, the Congress approved legislation to legalize and fully fund the hotly-debated research-effort to re-sequence a Y-Fever-immunity into the human male-genome. The successful vote paves the way for a reintroduction of men into society. Supporters of Project Lazarus hailed the vote as a breakthrough for all humanity. “Today is a victory not just for lonely hearts, but for everyone,” announced Jane Chen, Speaker of the House. “As humans, we’ve been incomplete for 43 years. Today, I say, let the healing process begin.”

  Critics of the measure called the vote a clear over-reach of power and vowed to appeal the legislation within the courts. “No body of women on earth has the authority to resurrect a species that was responsible for causing its own extinction,” declared Mirza Khan, speaking on behalf of the opposition group, ‘Women First.’ “Men had their chance at life; and it is a matter of record what they did with it. The dead should be left to rest in peace.”

  In the aftermath of the tumultuous vote came speculation about which research facility would win the coveted government contract to build a Y-fever-immune ‘Lazarus Genome.’ Chicago-insiders pegged Helix, the world-famous research facility, as a runaway favorite.

  Date: August 1st, 2098

  District: 15th Northeast

  Housing Locale: Algonquin Forest Zone

  Permit Number: 6630-6938

  Renters: Athena Vosh, Nomi James

  Lease duration: 1 year

  Type of Lease: Standard Rental

  1st renter’s occupation: N/A

  Main source of income: Citizen’s Benefit

  2nd renter’s occupation: Choreographer

  Main source of income: Employment

  June 8, 2099

  5

  Deep in the heart of the Algonquin woods, Nomi James popped a blue oxygen pill, and pushed the pace on the last kilometer of her morning run. The pill sent a shooting burst of O2 straight to her quads, quenching their thirsty burn from lactic acid. Darting through the tangled branches of a recently fallen tree, Nomi ducked below a low-hanging spiderweb, before powering up a final hill. Moments later, she emerged, glistening in sweat, in the clearing of a remote, lakeside cabin. For several minutes, she bent over, hands on knees, struggling to catch her breath.

  As she panted in place, Nomi’s short, brown hair spiked with sweat in multiple directions. Like everyone else her age, Nomi’s appearance had been altered at conception to improve the agreeability of her features. She had beautiful brown skin overlaid on top of a stunning frame. Her honey-colored eyes were the optimal width apart, her small nose and wide smile perfectly in proportion.

  More than just a pretty face, though, Nomi had been endowed with gifts that went beyond skin-deep. While every newborn birthed in the 80’s had received minor gene-edits to improve intelligence, in most cases, those edits ended up having no effect. In Nomi, however, the edits had resulted in her gaining an exceptional amount of added intelligence, particularly emotional intelligence. She may have been only nineteen, but she possessed the wisdom of a ninety-year-old. She knew herself in ways which others could only dream.

  No doubt due to that heightened awareness, life had always just come easily for Nomi. During high school, when Athena would struggle with assignments, and fret over her class placements, Nomi preferred instead to ace her classes while frittering her days away subsisting entirely on reality television and ice cream — never caring if she even graduated at all. The existence of ‘Citizen’s Benefits,’ she realized, meant no one needed to worry about money or work anymore. So she never did. One time at dinner, Athena had asked Nomi for advice on ‘how to get other people to like you more.’ With a confused look, Nomi had simply replied to her, “I don’t get it. Who cares if other people like you?”

  It was perhaps a great irony, then, that only a year after school ended, Nomi found substantial financial and critical success. One day, motivated more by sheer boredom than anything else, she spent an afternoon designing a series of massage choreographies — operating instructions for the dozens of tiny massager-nodes implanted within her body. On a lark, she posted the choreographies to an online marketplace, and then forgot about them entirely. A month later, the marketplace had to contact her to ask where they should deposit the large sums of money which had accrued in her account. Her massages had become an overnight sensation, having been downloaded over ten million times.

  For most anyone else, the sudden fame and fortune would have brought about major lifestyle changes — but not for Nomi. She laughed at the thought of being a quasi-celebrity, and gave away almost all of her money to a tropical fish preserve in Hawaii that was promptly renamed “The Nomi James Lagoon.” Wealth, she knew, could only buy things she didn’t care about anyway. So what good was it?

  As her pumping heart began to slow, Nomi spied her oldest and closest friend, sitting by the lake, painting the afternoon away. Strands of Athena’s hair had fallen onto her face, and she had assorted splotches of green paint on her forehead that somehow made her more, and not less, alluring to behold. The mere sight of Athena’s youthful visage caused Nomi’s heart to skip a beat. She sprinted in Athena’s direction, and placed a large, wet kiss onto her cheek.

  “Ewwww!” cried Athena. “You’re all sweaty!”

  “What?” asked Nomi. She stuck her nose into her own armpit, and inhaled deeply. “Don’t you like it? I think I’m going to call this, ‘Eau du Nomi.’” She cocked her head back and laughed. “Maybe I should sell it online!”

  Athena giggled. “You probably could.”

  Wiping the sweat from her face, Nomi planted three more kisses onto Athena’s forehead, and then asked her, “So whatchu painting today, babe?”

  Tilting her canvas in Nomi’s direction, Athena proudly displayed her most recently completed work: a perfect likeness of the crumbling, vine-covered building from her dream. “What do you think?”

  As she viewed the image, copious amoun
ts of sweat re-formed on the top of Nomi’s forehead. Gradually, her face crinkled as though her tongue had tasted something extremely sour. “Ummmm, A?” she asked. “What the hell is this?”

  Searching for an answer, Athena opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before speaking. “I…I don't know? But I can't get the sight of this building out of my head.”

  Nomi tilted her gaze to the right, then to the left. Her lips pursed to one side. The image before her was all at once frightening and grotesque. The vines which encircled the darkened structure seemed to reach from out of the painting and pull the viewer into a suffocating grasp. The stone facade of the mysterious place seemed to be crying out in pain as it crumbled away.

  “Honestly, A,” confessed Nomi, “this is incredible. It’s so realistic. And completely unlike anything else you’ve ever done. Just looking at it is giving me the creeps.” Nomi took a step back. Then another. “Where’s it from? This place? You never paint anything that isn’t right in front of you. Is this somewhere you went when you were young?”

  Athena simultaneously shook her head and shrugged her shoulders in response. “Not that I know of. I can’t remember ever going anywhere that looked like this.”

  Desperate for a chance to avert her eyes from the disturbing image, Nomi covered her face as she wiped away the additional sweat which had formed there. “Did you ask Aasha about it?”

  Athena shook her head.

  Raising her voice, Nomi called, “Aasha! The subject of this painting here, please identify it.”

  The home computer remained silent for an unusually long amount of time. Finally, it replied: “Based upon the architectural style, and the level of decay depicted, this looks like the ruined remains of a building constructed around the turn of twentieth century.”

  “Ruined remains?” asked Nomi. “So this building isn't just a fantasy. It’s real?”