Living in Syn

by Bobby Draughon

  She looked toward the ceiling and said, "I never should have spoken to the professor about you."

  Mission said, "You what? You interfered and then lied to me about it? Why would you do that to me?"

  Susan exploded back. "Because I knew how much it would mean to you."

  "If I didn't earn it, it means nothing. You know what? At least before I let you cloud my judgment, I was pretty much illusion free. Okay? I knew I would end up like Miller someday, beaten to death and left with the garbage in the alley. But at least I pay my way. I don't ask other people to solve my problems. That's all I had. But you've even taken that. And why? I mean, what am I? An ornament for your dashboard? A pet to replace your mechanical friend?"

  Mission immediately regretted that. It hurt Susan. "You bastard. I just wanted to help you."

  "Don't you get it? If I didn't earn it, I don't want it. I don't play the lottery. I don't want money unless I earn it! And I don't want any goddamned job they create for the doctor's pet. When you get Paradox, tell Matlin I need to speak with him. If he's not available, I'll transmit a letter. But I'll be a tracker tomorrow. The only way this could get any worse would be to die still carrying this phony title."

  The door slammed shut with brutal finality. Susan started to cry, burying her head in her pillow. She would never admit, even to herself how much she wanted this to work. But he alternated between treating her like a glass figurine and a cold hearted bitch out to skewer his heart and roast it over a spit. And she betrayed her prejudices against the working class at every turn. The biggest mystery was why she kept trying. Best to focus on the work. He would lose interest soon enough and this mess would end.

  37

  The tour added more testimony to the efficiency of Atwood and his city of New Angeles. He showed them the locator ID number on every room. The first letter indicated the hub, which could be A, B, or C. The following digits indicated spokes and tracks on the surrounding wheel, enabling one to easily navigate through the station.

  He had them watch a fifteen minute safety video with an explanation of procedures in case of a fire or a breach in the hull of the city. He showed them the indicators present in every room and sprinkled through the hallways that turned red if the air quality reached unacceptable levels. And he provided emergency numbers and detailed several routes to the med tech facility.

  They met the scientists (except for Dr. Mendoza who was working for the next two weeks with a team on Titan) and glimpsed at their work. They performed geological surveys all over Triton, and looked at new methods of refining the mined ores.

  They talked briefly with the manufacturing team. Early on, the team members realized it would be foolish to use the titanium mined there to build space station components. It brought a much better price on earth where lightweight materials fetched a premium. Thus the team's first goal was to shift a small part of the mining operation over to a focus on iron ore. This would allow them to refine on site and to produce high strength steel for space stations. They had started construction on a fourth hub with plans to dedicate most of the space to manufacturing. Their visions were impressive.

  Next they visited general services. Greg Benton was a bundle of energy as he handled calls coming in constantly from the various areas under his control. His blond hair appeared to take at least an hour to sculpt into such a state of perfection. His clothes crackled crisp and bright with sharp creases. He took them to see the law enforcement section and meet the shift captain. They currently held two employees, both on public drunkenness charges stemming from rowdy behavior at the bar. They wore the miner's coveralls and hung their heads. This would cost them any bonus they might have earned for the quarter.

  After that, they visited the med tech station. One man sat in the waiting room and a nurse was visible behind the window. Mission walked up to the window and introduced himself.

  "I see you're not too busy right now. I bet it's a welcome change from the crowds that are usually in this place."

  He smiled back at Mission. "Yep."

  Mission looked around the room, but couldn't find what he looked for. Everyone else was already waiting on him, so he left.

  Atwood took them to the last stop on the tour, the rooms set aside for diagnostics. Something seemed wrong. The rooms were simply two living quarters with an adjoining door. They would be adequate in terms of power supply and computer networking connections, but all this should already be in place. Mission started to think about what they hadn't seen on the tour. The mining operation, the refining plant, the manufacturing complex in progress, a non-denominational chapel, the exercise facility, and ... and the maintenance shop for the syns! That's why these rooms didn't make sense to him. They should already have rooms to take care of ongoing care and repair.

  Jeff Taylor had told him that the syn hookers on Io stayed so busy, they had to be serviced once a month to replace the fluids. He couldn't remember the maintenance schedule for mining models, but he was willing to bet it ran something like every 300 mining hours to check fluid levels in the elbows and knees and to realign the spine.

  Maybe that shop was too busy to deal with yearly diagnostics. Over 1000 syns, an average of six visits a year, meant 110 to 120 visits a week to the shop. That didn't sound like a killer workload. And they had to size the facility bigger. A mining accident like a cave in couldn't wait for a shop geared to take patients two or three at a time.

  And what about the mining and refining? Why didn't Atwood show them the operation? Mission debated whether to ask about it. If something was going on, it would alert them to his suspicions. On the other hand ...

  The Dick said, "Hey, Atwood. You showed us the salad and the after dinner mints, but no steak and potatoes. You know? Why didn't you show us the mining?"

  Atwood was a skilled manager and nothing betrayed any feelings toward Denman as a person or an efficiency analyst. He peered over his glasses and said, "Well, Dick ... that's a tall order. You see, my assignment is to first and foremost, see to this group's safety. The prospect of putting on pressurized suits, going out on the surface, covering terrain at 1/6 gravity, quite different from gravity boots I assure you, through zero visibility methane gasses, and climbing down into the mining operation, is fraught with danger. But I can show you video clips of the mining process."

  Denman had his hand on the back of his neck and he shook his head vigorously. "No. No good. I coulda looked at the video from my desk back on Earth. I have to see the real thing. Do we understand each other?"

  Atwood's expression took on more focus but his voice remained quite even. "I understand you quite clearly. I will try to arrange a visit during our lightest shift."

  Mission jumped in. "I’d like to make the visit as well." Major Pierce and Montag echoed his sentiments. Atwood paused for a moment and then said, "Well, well. A crowd of thrill seekers." He turned and exited the room.

  Susan said, "We can set up the rooms and be ready to begin diagnostics in two hours. No, we haven't had lunch. Three hours."

  Mission looked carefully at the opposite wall and asked, "Have you set up the call we discussed?"

  "Yes, the station will establish the connection at 2:00."

  "Will Matlin be there?"

  "No, he's at a science conference in Seattle and hasn't checked his messages in three days."

  Mission walked over to one of their crates and punched the combination that released the locks. He looked at the equipment without enthusiasm. He didn't know why but he felt sure the diagnostics would tell them nothing. But they had to go through the motions. And that's how he felt just now. He was going through the motions.

  38

  The call connected as promised. Even with state of the art relay stations, there was a 21 second delay. This yielded some very positive effects. First, no one interrupted. There was no point since your interjection didn't reach the other party until their thought was finished. Second, it forced you to organize your thoughts before speaking. You wasted loads of time by j
ust blurting out thoughts that required refinement, or greater detail.

  Elliot understood immediately what Mission and Susan looked for. He promised to enlist help from the other lab fanatics, and to test any possibilities on a factory model.

  That business concluded, Mission said, "Elliot, I understand that the professor isn't available."

  Elliot nodded. "Right. He won't be back for almost two weeks."

  "Who's acting in his place?"

  Elliot looked puzzled. "Jack. Jack Wellborn. He always runs the day to day stuff."

  Mission nodded. "Okay, I'm going to transmit a memorandum now. Would you see that Jack gets it?"

  Susan's knuckles turned white from gripping her chair seat. Her lips quivered. She couldn't stand it anymore. "Mission, please don't. Please."

  Mission turned around to face her and shook his head. "I don't have a choice, Susan."

  He brought the memo up on the screen for a minute.

  November 1

  Professor Fenwicke Matlin

  Paradox Research and Development

  The purpose of this memorandum is to submit my resignation, effective immediately. I wish to revert to my status as an independent working for Paradox on a task by task basis. As to my current work, I trust you to make an equitable arrangement for my services. Paradox has always treated me fairly and I am confident that you will continue to do so.

  I hope my resignation will not inconvenience you or the company's operations. I will always regard the position offered me as an honor without equal.

  Sincerely,

  Mission

  He transmitted the file and one brief sob escaped Susan's lips. Mission looked at her and then spoke softly.

  "Susan, I didn't do this to hurt you. I did it because I have to."

  He held out his hand and said, "Come on. We've got work to do."

  She wouldn't take his hand, but she did stand up. She wiped her face with a tissue, and they moved over to the diagnostics area.

  Five hours of diagnostics exhausted them all except Montag. They finally settled into a routine and then killed themselves trying to make decent time. They checked the list and marked the names as each synthetic reported. Then Susan put on plastic gloves, opened the back of the head, and initiated diagnostics. This required about twenty-five minutes of dedicated brain processing. Next one of them would connect a datalink between the brain and the storage cell, and download the file. Then Montag would swab the broken skin with antiseptic, tape the area shut, and send them on their way.

  They looked at each other thinking the same thought. This was only five hours. Tomorrow they would do nine or ten.

  Mission said, "Can we make the gravity shoes workout at 7:00 tonight?"

  Carson said, "Yeah, that way I can hit the sheets early."

  Susan said, "I don't think I can make it."

  Mission never looked back as he answered, "Suit yourself."

  Now even Montag wondered what was going on between them.

  Meanwhile, Dick Denman sat down with Arthur Atwood. Denman put his feet up on Atwood's desk and lit a cigar.

  Atwood was irritated. "It is illegal to smoke anywhere in this city."

  Denman smiled. "I think you're going to overlook it."

  In the privacy of his office, Atwood no longer felt restrained by the responsibility of his office. " I see no reason to drag this out. What is it you want?"

  "Right to the chase. You really want me out of here don'tcha?"

  He swung his feet back to the floor and leaned over the desk, resting his elbows on the polished surface. "To tell the truth, I got two agendas. The company has certain needs with regard to this operation. And, I have some needs of my own. You might have heard ... I have some legal expenses to pay." He blew a smoke ring with the utmost confidence.

  Atwood's face was impassive. "What does the company want?"

  "I would think you could guess that. They want Paradox to come away with some very typical diagnostics. Very simple. No publicity, no problems."

  "I see. Fortunately, we both want the same thing. And what of your needs?"

  "Well, I need my account enlarged. It's funny ... the least little word to the Paradox team could break this whole thing wide open and that would be embarrassing to Pioneer. But for you ... for you it would be catastrophic. You know, we have a group of friends that got this whole thing started. And before they would let their involvement become public, well ... it's pretty frightening, isn't it?"

  "I didn't hear you mention an amount."

  "How much was your company bonus last year? About $500,000? Yeah, I think that's pretty close."

  Denman got up to leave. "I'll need to see the transfer record before we leave. You know, the company just loves this place. You beat projected yield and come in under budget, every quarter. How do you do it?"

  He laughed and walked out. Atwood pulled out a compact disc and contemplated it. "I recorded it all, you disgusting little man. Now please do something stupid that gives me a way to use this."

  He put away the disc and activated his com. "Yes, we talked. Only money, $500,000. If we need the time, we pay. If not..."

  39

  Mission tried to achieve oblivion through exhaustion. He pounded as hard as possible through every exercise. He pushed to the limit at every turn and jumped up after a crash like nothing had happened. Finally he wore Carson out, and then he forced Montag to race him. The final hour turned into an all-out blur, trying desperately to keep up with the synthetic.

  Dripping with sweat, he took a fast shower and shuffled back to his room. He turned on the vue screen and found a Fine Arts Presentation on the life of Ravel. Good. The first piece they played was his Piano Concerto for the Left Hand. His mood was perfect for the dark maelstrom of violins against the churning arpeggios on the low end of the piano.

  He searched through his luggage and found his contraband. Jose Cuervo and cigarettes. He drank. His head swayed appreciatively to Ravel's ballet, Chloe and Daphne. He drank some more. Now his piano sonata began. Its rippling rhythmic textures blended to form an entirely separate melodic thread. It always reminded him strongly of the seashore. He drank some more.

  There was a knock at his door. He picked the Glock up and then put it back down. Screw it. "Come in."

  Susan came in, her eyes tired and red. She wore black slacks and a white cotton top that made it obvious she wore nothing underneath. It was true. She was trying to kill him. She stood inside, waiting.

  Mission said, "Want a drink?"

  She didn't answer, but walked over and poured a shot in the only other glass. She downed it without comment. Mission lit another cigarette. She didn't even remind him it was illegal. She sat down on the bed as far away from Mission as she could.

  Mission motioned to the screen. "You like Ravel? He's my favorite 20th century composer."

  She had no answer. The first pianissimo strains of Bolero wafted through the room like the first rays of sunrise through the clouds. Mission said, "Why are you here? I've resigned. You've stepped out of the relationship before it even started. I won't try to force it. You're free. No loose ends."

  The tears in Susan's eyes were the only sign that emotion struggled to break free of her control. She said, "You are so goddamned stupid and stubborn. You don't understand what I want at all."

  "And you understand what I want? If you did, you never would have intervened with the professor."

  Susan's eyes flashed. "I understood that you wanted that job. And I tried to make it happen. I know helping someone you care for is way out of line."

  Mission exploded. "You don't know me. You have no idea what it's like for people without an education, without a professional life. I've never taken a handout in my life, and I'm proud of that. Sometimes I feel like it's the only thing I have."

  Susan nodded. "Fine. As a matter of fact, that's just like my father. The kind that finds it easy to give but impossible to receive. Well, this may come as a shock, but it's just as important to
be able to accept help. But you know why you don't want it? Because you're afraid it may obligate you to someone, that you might become part of a real relationship, instead of playing the part of a disapproving parent doling out an allowance."

  Mission stared at her in amazement. "Do you really believe that garbage? You're the one that can't handle a relationship. Do you really think I'm buying your one criticism of Paradox and we're through routine? You had doubts all the time and that comment was your ticket out."

  Now Susan screamed. "And I suppose you think there's not a problem when you make me so furious?"

  Mission trembled with anger. "Exactly. You are exactly right. You treat this like some mathematical equation where everything has to add up. Well this isn't math! And the fact that you make me mad as hell at the same time I'm in love with you is perfectly okay. That's the human paradox. Rich and complex relationships are built on dozens of emotions, many of them in conflict with each other."

  He put out his hands, spread them apart and then dropped them. "I don't worry about the conflict, because I know how I feel about you."

  Mission trembled from the adrenaline rush of his anger and Susan's eyes still flashed. Impulsively, he kissed her, and she responded. Before they quite knew what happened, their clothes fell scattered around the room. Afterwards, Susan rested her head on Mission's chest as he stroked her back.

  "Mission, could I please get you to reconsider your resignation?"

  "Look, Susan. I heard what you said about not accepting help, and a lot of it is true. But I can't change what I am overnight. I can keep working on a contract basis, and if it becomes clear that I can do an engineer's job, I'll reconsider. That's the best I can do."

  She kissed his neck and then whispered in his ear, "I know one thing you can do better."