In the projection, Eve appeared fully dressed in sea-green scrubs, and sterile cream-colored gloves. “You’re doing great, Charlotte,” she said. Her demeanor was professional but warm. Patiently, she explained everything that would happen and coached Charlotte through the painless birthing process.
It seemed odd to Athena that she had never seen this recording before. Not only that, truthfully, she had never even given a thought to its existence. In her mind, she had always been alive — and yet here was the proof of her gooey entrance into the world.
“Congratulations, Charlotte. You did great. She’s perfect,” said the projection of Eve minutes later, as she handed a naked infant to the projection of Charlotte.
Adult Athena gazed into her own, unmistakable, newborn eyes and felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach.
Toward the end of the recording, Dr. Antares herself even made an appearance. Although, she didn't stay for long — just a quick check-in to make sure that the delivery had been a success.
“Hey, mom, I have a question,” the now-grown child interrupted. “Why didn’t you ever have any more kids after me?”
“Well, honey, because…being a mother is hard work. Really hard work. It takes time. A lot of time. And patience. And effort. I didn't know if I had enough of all those things for more than just you. I wanted to focus all my strength into you. I wanted to make sure that if you ever needed me, I could always be there for you.”
“Stop,” Athena pleaded. “You’re going to make me cry.”
Over the next several hours, the Voshes continued to exchange recordings and reminisce. They laughed excessively until Athena received a series of notifications on her display:
Moderate build-up of amyloid-beta plaque detected within your frontal lobe.
Effective thoughtfulness has dipped below 60%.
Sleep is required to remove the toxins.
With a swipe of her finger, she dismissed the messages. “Hey, mom,” she said. “I have to leave soon.”
“I know,” sighed Charlotte. Her lower-lip extended out past her upper lip. “Oh, before you go…I’m trying to clear out your room so I can use it for something else.”
“Something else?!” asked Athena, incredulous. “Like what!”
“I have a life of my own, you know!” teased her mother. “I had one before you were born, and now that you’ve moved out, I’ll have one again. Anyway, over there on the desk is a box of your stuff. Take whatever you want to keep. I’m going to recycle the rest.”
Athena approached the box and entered into the memories of her childhood. Within it, she found her colorful elementary school finger-paintings, her telekinetic play-doh kit, and her Rainbow Ruby dolls. Her mother had even saved a plaque emblazoned with her high-school’s motto:
Children must be taught how to think, not what to think.
At the bottom of the box lay a small, pink, sapphire object toward which Athena’s eyes gravitated. It looked about the size of a fingertip, smooth and hard. Its shape resembled a ribbon, spiraling upward. Almost instantly, she recognized it as the Helix corporate logo.
“What is this?” asked Athena, holding up the unusual item.
“Oh, that,” replied her mother. “The clinic sent it home with you when you were born. It’s the complete digital file of your genome. Helix sent every baby they delivered home with one. I used to hang it on the post of your crib while you slept. But then medicine advanced. The science became outdated, and the file was no longer needed in the event of an emergency. After that, I just lost track of it.”
Charlotte walked over to the box of memories and pulled a piece of black cord from the bottom. “I never understood why they didn’t just email me your file. But you have to admit, it is pretty.”
She magnetically attached the piece of black cord to one end of the spiraling ribbon, creating a pendant necklace. “There," she declared, wrapping her creation around her daughter’s neck. “Science ages, but jewelry is forever.”
Susan B Anthony High School
Athena Vosh Report Card
Grade 12, Fall Semester
Self-Awareness…..………………………………..………B-
Morality……………………….…………….…………………A
Oil Painting………………….………………..………………A
Skepticism…………………………………………..………..C
Empathy.…………………………..……………………….…B-
Physical Education…………….….……………………A-
Personal Data Law…………….………..…..…………..B
June 10, 2099
29
On the return trip to her PS guest apartment, Athena checked her messages. Yet again, Nomi had not made any attempt to reach out. Unless, of course, the massage from the previous night counted. Did that count? Athena decided that it did not.
By forming an “N” shape into the air, Athena brought up Nomi’s phone number on her display. For a minute or two, her finger hovered into space, just above the call button. Then the city-car arrived at its destination, and Athena swiped away the contact screen.
Up in her apartment, she toggled her space to its night-mode and lay herself down to sleep. Around her neck still hung the pink, sapphire Helix-pendant, glimmering into the dark.
June 11, 2099
30
Sometime in the night, Athena awoke to the sound of a loud banging against her apartment door. From her bed, she air-swiped, and the door slid open.
Nomi rushed inside, wearing a large brown fur coat. “The home of the buffalo,” she said. “You’re not going to find it by looking for it.” Her head bobbed up and down. “It’s not where it is. It’s where it’s not.”
Athena sat up in her bed. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s not where it is,” Nomi repeated. “It’s where it's not.” Her eyes began to flicker quickly from left to right, as if she were staring out from the window of a train. She opened her mouth and held it open. A loud, rolling, thundering noise emerged from the back of her throat.
“Am I dreaming?” asked Athena.
Nomi bent down on all fours. She began grazing from the plastic floor. She spoke again, but this time, her voice sounded much deeper.
“The truth is in the library,” she boomed. “You must find the truth to save her. You are almost out of time.”
Nomi began galloping around the room. She lowered her head and sprinted into the apartment's curved window. On impact, both she and the window shattered into a million pieces. As shards of flying glass fell out of view, a new scene emerged. Once again, Athena found herself standing in front of the deteriorating, vine-covered, six-columned library. Beside her stood the familiar man dressed entirely in buffalo hides.
“Our home has been deleted,” he rumbled. “You cannot find it by looking for it. You must search for where it is not. You must find the truth to save her.”
As fast as she could, Athena turned and ran into the building. Swiftly, she crossed its debris covered floor, descended into the basement, and walked up to the exact spot where she knew she would find the book. With great care, she pulled it from the shelf. Its title burned with fire: Original Sin is Real.
Inside the book glowed an image of Nomi, completely naked, staring out from what looked like an idyllic garden. An apple rested in her open hand. Her honey-colored eyes begged for attention. As Athena stood holding the book, the picture of Nomi spoke to her. “You’re still not getting it, A,” she said. “Why you? Why does it have to be you?”
June 11, 2099
30
Incoming Call from Valerie Bell
”Wha? What? I’m up. I’m up. What?” Athena mumbled horizontally from her bed.
“Get dressed,” ordered Valerie on the other end. “You’re meeting me at the hyper-loop station in half an hour.”
Morning light rushed in as Athena toggled her room to day-mode. Sh
e made her way over to the window — a designated safe space so that she would not get trapped within the transforming furniture — and told Aasha to form the room into a kitchen. As the empress mattress melted into the floor, it was replaced by a deluxe-sized food printer standing next to a small table with four chairs.
Athena looked out the window and down to the street below. The city bustled. A rushing river of delivery drones, several meters above the ground, almost completely obscured the view of the pedestrian sidewalks beneath.
For breakfast, Aasha prepared a bowl of oatmeal mixed with grasshopper-paste and topped by brown sugar and cranberries. Eagerly, Athena slurped it down and rushed out the door. She made it to the hyper-loop station with minutes to spare.
“And a good morning to you, Ms. Vosh,” greeted Captain Bell on the platform. As always, the captain was dressed in her impressive Public Safety uniform, looking every bit as commanding and authoritative as the first minute Athena had laid eyes on her. When she reached Athena, the captain brushed a fleck of dirt off the shoulder of Athena’s less-impressive, loaned uniform.
“Where are we going?” asked Athena. She fought against a sleepy yawn.
“East,” announced Valerie. The captain used a firm hand to guide Athena to the other end of the hyper-loop platform. “This Lazarus case just keeps getting weirder. Last night, I got a secure message from a Dr. Prim Nagaraj, professor at MIT. She said she needed to speak with me at once — and she insisted that our entire conversation take place off the record.”
“Off the record? Like, you mean, in person?”
“That’s correct. You and I are on our way to meet her now.”
A mini-biography appeared on Athena's display:
Dr. Prim Nagaraj
b. November 14th, 2058 in Mumbai
Immigrated to the NAU in 2080.
Graduated from Harvard Medical in 2086.
Named chair of the MIT Genomics Department in 2092.
“Should I have heard of this woman before?” Athena asked.
“Yes, probably,” sighed Valerie. “In an ideal world, where scientists get the credit they deserve. She’s one of the brightest minds alive.” The captain flicked a set of articles concerning Dr. Nagaraj onto Athena’s display.
“Now arriving!” shouted the hyper-loop platform with an accompanying echo. From out of a nearby, vacuum-sealed tunnel, a massive train silently glided into the station. Athena couldn't see all the way to the end of it, but the silvery train must have comprised thirty or more bus-sized pods. As it came to a stop, holographic assistants appeared on the platform and inside the cars. They ushered people to their seats.
“All aboard!” called out one of the holographic assistants. “Next stop, New Boston!”
The NAU Times
April 17th, 2091
MIT Star Finds Hope For Revolutionary Cure
Colorado Springs, CO — (AP) — In the forty years since white nationalists detonated a pair of nuclear warheads just north of Greeley, Colorado, no one has dared to venture into the area’s 3000 square kilometer exclusion zone. All that changed this year, however, when a team of researchers from MIT, led by the affable Dr. Prim Nagaraj, set off on an expedition there this Spring.
“I was just sitting in my office one day,” reported Nagaraj, “when it hit me. If the vegetation around places like Chernobyl or Greeley can survive radiation that extreme, then the plants must have an extraordinary ability to repair damage to their own cells. It got me thinking: maybe we can learn something from this?”
Equipped with heavy radiation gear, Dr. Nagaraj and her team traveled to Colorado and spent four weeks taking samples from over 60 different species of plants. Back at their lab in Massachusetts, they analyzed the level of DNA decay. The results amazed them.
“These plant genomes show almost no signs of disrepair from the destructive alpha radiation which continues to kill off all animal life in their vicinity. The speed with which they can heal the breaks in their own genetic code is extraordinary,” added Nagaraj. “If we could replicate this kind of healing in humans, we’re not talking about a cure for one or two diseases. We’re talking about a cure to end all cures.”
Other Scientists expressed skepticism in the hope for such a grand panacea. Celebrity-scientist Grace Antares pointed out: “It’s true that Dr. Nagaraj has discovered something interesting. But we’re talking about two completely different forms of life here. I hate to state the obvious: but animals are not plants. Our waste is literally their food, and vice versa. I very much doubt that the lessons of healing are transferable.”
Dr. Nagaraj’s MIT team hopes to publish their results before the year is out.
June 11, 2099
31
Atop the heights of the Massachusetts arrival platform, Athena could make out the tips of buildings in both Bostons. To the east, the tilting skyscrapers of old Boston stood wilting under their own weight and the constant attack of the rising tides. To the west, the gleaming pillars of New Boston glistened in the morning sun, their tops surrounded by dozens of construction drones pulling them ever higher.
“This way,” ushered Valerie through the crowded hyper-loop station to a line of waiting city-cars.
En route to MIT, Athena posed a question to her captain. “I know you said Dr. Nagaraj wants an off-the-record interview, but are you really going to give her one? There’s no way for her to know that one of us isn't still recording.”
Valerie’s face soured in response. “According to the Personal Data Act of 2063, Ms. Vosh, it is an arrestable offense to record someone against their explicit wishes. Even if it weren’t a crime, the damage it might do to the trust placed in Public Safety would far outweigh whatever short-term benefits we might enjoy.” Captain Bell’s eyes flashed an annoyed glare. Moments later, the city-car came to a halt in front of MIT’s inspiring new campus.
The walk to Dr. Nagaraj’s office passed through manicured courtyards and popular campus locales. Lime green footprints weaved their way through the new quads, close to the “pi” dorm (a ten-story building constructed in the shape of the Greek symbol for circular perfection) and the new administration building (constructed in the shape of two atoms in the midst of a nuclear reaction). When they were a hundred meters away from their destination, Valerie instructed Athena to discontinue recording, which she did.
“Are your contacts off?” asked the captain impatiently.
Athena nodded.
Valerie looked around for any other obvious recording devices. Seeing none, she pulled Athena aside. “Now that we’re off the record, I can tell you the truth. If I had my way, then yes, abso-fucking-lutely, we would record this woman without her permission.” Again, Valerie looked in both directions to make that sure no one could see them talking. “But Public Safety foolishly places its demands for personal protections above its desire for results. That means that just a single slip-up on my part could ruin my entire career. Privacy rights are everything to this organization. Everything.” With grave sincerity, she looked directly into Athena’s eyes. “So the next time you get a bright idea, remember that every word we say gets recorded forever, and don’t ask me with our contacts on if I’m going to knowingly break the law. Ok? Got it?”
Athena nodded.
The NAU Times
October 3rd, 2084
CDC: Longer Life Expectancy & Lower Mortality in Every National Region
Chicago — (AP) — Fresh data released this morning point to the nation’s continued prosperity. Mortality rates are at their lowest levels ever recorded: only 436 deaths per 100,000 citizens. Infant mortality was under 1 death per 1000 live births. Heart disease, cancer, and stroke all claimed the fewest number of victims ever recorded. For the thirteenth straight year, there were no gun deaths.
The only blemish on the otherwise stellar report could be found in the category of “Intentional self-harm (suicide).” That figure increased from 18,375 to 20,563. Leading psychologists have debated the cause for this increase. Most
agree that it stems from a general feeling on the part of some women that life without men is not worth living.
The Collins White House commented on the report, saying, “This is a wonderful result, but we must never rest on our laurels. We want next year’s numbers to be even better.”
June 11, 2099
32
Like a Matisse collage, Athena found the office of Dr. Prim Nagaraj to be both colorful and unique. The room possessed a burnt-orange felt carpet and black-glass walls. On one end rested a worn couch that faced a pair of high-backed, throne-like chairs. Behind the chairs stood a clutter-covered desk, and behind the desk, imbedded within the wall, sat a large saltwater aquarium glowing in shades of aquamarine.
Dr. Nagaraj greeted the captain and Athena as they arrived. Enthusiastically, she shook both of their hands. She thanked repeatedly them for coming.
Dressed in a black pencil-skirt and a spider-silk blouse, the doctor’s outfit complimented her healthy brown skin. Her amber-colored eyes appeared massively large. Her wavy black hair fell past her shoulders.
With Athena and Captain Bell safely inside, Dr. Nagaraj used a sweeping arm motion to lock down her office. Her door closed. A wifi-blocking magnetic field enveloped the room.
The doctor invited her guests to seat themselves on the couch. As for herself, she took up residence in the belly of one of the large high-backed chairs. “And how was your trip up here?” she asked. “Enjoyable I trust?” She forced an unconvincing smile.
“Dr. Nagaraj, please,” replied Captain Bell curtly. “I have no love for pleasantries. What do you want?”
The doctor’s galvanic skin response spiked when faced with Captain Bell’s directness.
Athena rushed to comfort her. “Don’t worry,” she hushed. “Everything you say will stay just between us.”
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