MetaGame

by Sam Landstrom

  It was the heavy demand for variety in nectar production that drove much of the point revenue of House Monsa. Any new strain of nectar that, for example, offered a different taste, was metabolized more easily, or simply came from an aesthetically pleasing tree would find a ready market. Indeed, nectar trees were so common on earth-and increasingly on other planets and moons-that a house could expect to sell millions, if not billions of trees with every new variety it created.

  Beside the grove of nectar trees were the fast-growing poplar trees that set off a soft and even melodious groan as their trunks rose up nearly fast enough for the naked eye to watch in action. Although most dwellings were grown rather than built, the wood these trees produced was still used in a variety of classic products, from paper to furniture.

  While one could spend hours alone examining the astonishing variety of trees in Monsa’s gardens, there were just as many impressive varieties of flowers in every color imaginable and with equally impressive uses. There were flowers that emitted light at night, flowers that ate pesky insects (but not the helpful ones, such as collectors), flowers that were processed into all manner of drugs for both human and product consumption, and even flowers for the very old yet still profitable perfume trade. Pueet, their little hostess, explained in a clear voice. “The flowers in the inner sanctum are not for production use; they are just prototypes. We have many production labs distributed throughout House Monsa and her subsidiaries.”

  Although plants made up the bulk of the life in the gardens, there were more active denizens that walked, crawled, slithered, or flapped. The most conspicuous products were the general humanoid laborers sprinkled everywhere, their purpose to keep the garden tidy. They did most of their work using only old-fashioned hand tools rather than modern ones, as the doctor preferred the aesthetic of old-time gardening.

  Despite this handicap, the massive gardens were immaculately kept, and it was no wonder. The gardeners were remarkably productive, oblivious to the heat of the midday artificial sun and indifferent to the cold of night. They required only two hours of sleep per day, and when they slept they needn’t walk back to any sleeping quarters; instead, they would simply lie down under the shelter of some luxurious plant. Nor did such workers require breaks to eat because there was plenty of fruit and enormous, plump, and delicious bugs of all sorts, which they scooped up deftly as they worked.

  All of the workers were identical in appearance. They were hairless men with dark skin weathered by exposure, and every one of them carried around their neck a small blue vial containing repellant against the garden cullers. When Lyra pointed out the vials, Pueet informed them that when the workers got old or otherwise outlived their usefulness, the doctor would simply cut off their supply of repellant. However, such turnover was low since the food in the garden on which the workers subsisted was chock-full of goodies that slowed the aging process.

  Among the human-based products that attracted the most attention from the men in the party were the concubines. A full harem of women, spectacular in their nudity, lounged about in a silver-pooled grotto. They stared back at the voyeurs, some of them demurely, some intensely. Djoser asked if these prototypes required any further “testing,” volunteering for the job with a lewd smile. Pueet warned him to leave them alone, as the same traits that mimicked passionate love could easily turn to violence.

  Pueet went on to say how Sara, Dr. Monsa’s personal concubine, the one who the night before had stuck a fork in another dinner guest’s hand, was one of the doctor’s early and unsuccessful attempts in this line of work. “But Sara formed an imprint bond with Father, and despite her madness, he grew fond of her,” she said. “Well, maybe not exactly fond of her, but affectionately familiar with her over the years.”

  Pueet then informed the tour group that the concubines were not allowed out of their plexi cage. “We used to allow them to wander freely, but eventually they would get bored and try to seduce the garden workers or whoever else they could find. It was shamefully disruptive.”

  “What about rent-a-boys? Do you grow them as well?” Lyra asked while elbowing Djoser in the ribs.

  Pueet laughed girlishly. “Yes, although we lock them up also, away from the concubine protos. Otherwise they would simply wear each other out. In the early days we actually lost a few of them from exhaustion. We do still allow controlled visits for testing purposes.”

  Spurred by Lyra’s interest, Pueet showed them the rent-a-boy sphere. Like their female counterparts they were nude, exposing their perfectly shaped and muscular bodies. Upon seeing the visitors, some of the products whistled at Lyra and Pueet and shouted out invitations over one another. Others leaned stoically against the plexi as though posing. A few smiled shyly and hid themselves. Apparently, there was a type of man for all tastes.

  “I noticed you do not separate them from one another,” D_Light commented. “Do they get along so harmoniously all the time?”

  Pueet pointed to three small empty spheres off in the distance. “No, occasionally we get a violent phenotype or one whose copious sexual urges are misdirected at others in the cell. However, as you can see, the isolation spheres are empty now. We rarely make such rookie mistakes in our designs anymore.”

  “Misdirected sexual urges?” Djoser asked. “You do not make homosexual rent-a-boys and concubines?”

  “Oh, there really isn’t much of a market for those,” Pueet answered while twisting her mouth slightly. “The rampant genetic engineering of humans leading up to the time of the bottleneck-coupled with modern fetus incubation tanks-has nearly wiped that market out.”

  “Interesting,” D_Light said. “I had no idea.”

  Pueet nodded. “Yeah, House Yi-LingYu specializes in that niche market, and Father does not think the potential profits are worth the extra R amp;D it would take to challenge Yi-LingYu’s strong position.” Pueet sighed. “I’ve thought of putting a line together myself. It would be a fun game, but I do not know if I will ever get around to it.”

  Pueet then took the tour party to see House Monsa’s most advanced and expensive product line, the analysts. Like Hal, the analyst they had met the night before, the male analysts looked very similar to the common garden worker products in that they were hairless, and they were remarkable only in that they did not resemble anyone in particular. It was as though they were merely templates of a person. The women analysts were hairless also, making them somewhat repulsive to D_Light. The analysts were one of the most driven products. When looking into their eyes one might at first think that they were dull, given their blank stare; however, in reality they were simply in a state of unbroken trance. They were so committed to their thoughts that nothing in the silly “real” world mattered a pin to them.

  Like Hal, many of the analysts had tubes that sprung up around them like wet quills of a porcupine, the skin folding circularly like an anus where the tube interfaced with their body. Nectar, drugs, and other substances that D_Light did not ask about flowed in through some tubes, and dark liquid waste trickled out of others. Unlike the ebony tans of the garden workers, the skin of the analysts was nearly translucent from their subterranean existence. Their domicile was deep within a windowless dro-vine mound. They stood in long bays, one after the other. Their mind interface chips were hooked directly to machines, but this apparently did not provide enough input because their otherwise minimalist bays had dozens of monitors which displayed a great deal of things that D_Light could not even guess about. Pueet told them that the monitors were as much for those supervising the analysts-the proctors-as they were for the products themselves. Since these analysts were prototype models, it was important for proctors to observe, measure, and validate their work.

  The proctors also appeared to be products. One proctor was another of Dr. Monsa’s cloned daughters, identical to Pueet, Love_Monkey, Curious_Scourge, BoBo, and every other “daughter” they had seen, except that this one had a dark ribbon in her hair. The girl ignored the tour group as she scanned the monitors,
and the analysts, likewise, were oblivious to her. Another proctor was an analyst himself, presumably a graduated one. This one was walking along with his tubes hooked into a hovering machine that trailed behind him, always staying just close enough to stay out of his way while still maintaining some slack.

  Pueet explained that most of the analysts were playing ultra-complex strategy games against one another, as well as against others outside House Monsa. “It can be expensive to hire independent agents to pit wits against our prototypes, but it is necessary to vet the optimum designs. Those consistently successful might be grown for commercial production.”

  “What about those that fail? Do you destroy them?” Djoser asked.

  “Soul no! They are too expensive to design, grow, and train to just throw them away. Instead, we sell them at a steep discount to houses that could not otherwise afford them.”

  As repulsive as the analysts were, D_Light knew that he was in the Fort Knox of the modern world. If you had a tough problem, a quandary of great magnitude, the best thing you could do was set one of these babies loose on it. They were the greatest weapons a player could get hold of. D_Light would have loved to get one of these for himself-even a reject-but such merchandise was way out of his price range. Individual players did not buy analysts. Only major families had pockets deep enough to own even one.

  D_Light was a little surprised that he and his teammates were trusted to be here, seemingly unguarded. D_Light and Djoser were armed, and Lyra herself was a 120-pound weapon. One madman with a blade could slit one throat after another. No doubt the analysts would just stand there like cows in the slaughterhouse, he thought. Billions of points of damage could be done! D_Light had no such insane intention, nor could he imagine this of anyone else on his team. Perhaps some analyst had already foretold this fact beyond all reasonable probability, which is why they were here.

  Pueet ushered them on. “There is much more to see, more than you can see in a day. More than you could see in a lifetime.”

  The party was well worn out by the time they stumbled in for dinner. Dr. Monsa was present, as was Sara and her rent-aboy reject playthings from the night before. Several of the clones were there. Djoser did not remember which was which, but Moocher, with his precise memory, identified them by their distinctly colored bows and told him the present company was Curious_Scourge, BoBo, Love_Monkey (who was apparently back from the groksta), their guide for the day, Pueet, along with a new daughter who had not yet been introduced.

  As usual, the clones surrounded Lily and her nubber. The nubber was carrying a few worse-for-wear flowers in one paw while holding onto the hem of Lily’s dress with its other. Lily’s dress was a frilly thing covered with flower prints and lace, similar to the ones worn by the clone girls.

  Djoser had only seen flowered dresses on women (or men) who were making fun of themselves. The antiquated fashion and its supposed virtue was a joke to any mainstream player. Nevertheless, it suited Lily. Djoser marveled at the perfect skin of her arms, throat, and face, such delicate proportions. And the natural innocence and sincerity with which she carried herself was captivating. She had been designed perfectly for her purpose.

  He imagined what it would be like to hold her down on her back, screaming and thrashing under him. How he would forcefully penetrate her. And as he violated her, he wondered what it would look like when he bit into her pale, flawless skin, first her forearm as she tried to fend him off, then her neck, followed by her cheek. And just as he was finishing, he would stab into one of her beautiful blue eyes and pry it out. What would that be like? How would I feel? Such an experience would be like none he had ever had before in his eighty-seven years of existence.

  “It’s really not fair how pretty you are in this,” BoBo said to Lily as she pinched the fabric of Lily’s dress.

  “Do you seek her approval with your exclusive chitchat simply because she is comely?” the good doctor nearly shouted across the table.

  “Father, don’t embarrass me,” BoBo hissed between clenched teeth. “I was merely making an observation.”

  Dr. Monsa spoke to the group with a weary voice. “A weakness in my girls. Although they are old enough to know better, they share the primitive trait of desperately wanting to please those who appear to be worth pleasing. Notice how they gravitate toward the Caucasian girl and not the lovely Lyra?”

  Lyra was startled by hearing her name and turned away from Djoser to listen.

  “You are sooo embarrassing!” Curious_Scourge lamented.

  The doctor ignored her remark and said, “My girls have always found beauty in things that resemble themselves. I used to think it was vanity, but perhaps it is something more primitive. Like attracts like. Conceivably a useful feature in our early evolution, but a bothersome vestige in this modern day. I haven’t tracked down the genes responsible for this vestige. It is rather complex.”

  BoBo pounded a small fist into the table. “My Soul, can’t I just have a conversation and you mind your own business?”

  “But I too am merely making an observation,” countered the doctor.

  BoBo’s face flushed. “An observation? You think I like her just because she is a pretty white girl. You think me so simple? Maybe I find her fascinating for the same reason you do!” BoBo grabbed Lily’s hand which sat limp, cupped in the little porcelain hands of the child-woman. Lily’s face was pale and her eyes glistened.

  “Because of what she is,” BoBo said. “What a rare event it is to have a specimen like her in our domicile!”

  BoBo stroked Lily’s hair with one hand. “Or maybe it isn’t just the fact that she is white like me or that she is a camper, but that she is a woman? I can see in her my approximate future. Oh, but wait…no such future awaits me because someone trapped my sisters and me forever in a prepubescent shell!” With that, BoBo stood, sending her chair backward and over with a crack on the hard stone floor, and then she stormed off.

  BoBo’s dramatic exit sparked an end to dinner. The other girls fell in with BoBo’s lead and stomped off with their sister. Lily asked to be excused with her teddy bear. After snacking all day in the garden, D_Light could not eat another bite, and so he excused himself as well. Walking down the path, he discovered Lily, who was talking to her bear. “What a silly boy you are,” she said as the nubber tried clumsily to climb a tree from which oval milky fruits hung overhead.

  “Deja vu,” D_Light said. “Have you noticed that dinnertime here is really awkward?” he asked.

  Lily laughed softly. “Yeah, maybe I should just pack a picnic for my dinner tomorrow night.”

  “That sounds good,” said D_Light. “Maybe I could join you and we could watch the pretend sunset together.”

  Lily smiled and nodded. And then, abruptly, she walked up to only a few inches from his face. “D_Light, why don’t you tell me about yourself? Tell me about how you grew up.”

  D_Light felt the urge to either step back or step into her, but he remained where he was. “I…sure, I’ll have-”

  “I don’t want to talk to your robot,” she said with a note of irritation. “I don’t want it to send me anything. I want to hear you say it.”

  D_Light agreed and suggested they take a walk. The pair wandered along a winding path and out into the vast garden below. They had no destination, the only goal being to put distance between themselves and the others. As they walked, D_Light told Lily about his birth, how he was grown in a nursery, although he, of course, could not remember this. He told her how he and thirty other children were raised by a variety of child-rearing gamers and that his nursery mates would come and go-a typical childhood.

  Lily asked many questions related to this. “Where was your mother? How did your caretaker manage so many?”

  D_Light told her how it was wasteful for a bio-parent to take care of a child. Their time could be better spent doing something productive. On the other hand, a nursery grinder, also known as a “naga,” as his foster mother was called, could score very high in the
Game by raising large quantities of quality players. Many immortals started out as nagas.

  D_Light was surprised by the plethora of questions about his bio-parents. Yes, he knew who they were, but it did not matter. They received a small percentage of the points he scored, so he was important to them, but not vice versa.

  Lily then explained how mothers in her tribe raised their own daughters. Of course, many daughters lost their mothers to “the running time,” at which point a foster mother would be selected from the tribe. D_Light thought it was a poor design and cruel to have the campers carry their daughters to term in the womb. He knew that humans used to do this and that sideliners still often did, but he always thought it absurd. It was always a mystery to him how mammals managed to survive throughout the ages carrying their unborn like that. Slowed down and vulnerable, the fetus was nothing more than a bonus meal to some hungry predator. Even worse was the way they delivered the infant. Sadistic is nature!

  Artificial night was falling and the photoflowers were beginning to bloom, spawning soft globes of light in an otherwise darkening garden. There was a statue of a nude, curvaceous woman looking over her shoulder at a brook that gurgled though a grassy clearing. The pair sat on the grass and regarded the statue. Smorgeous suggested that it best matched examples of Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love and beauty, and D_Light announced that this was, in fact, who the statue depicted, as though he had known this himself.