“I think it was because the city leaders determined it was dangerous to have the Servers gather together and start talking about the unfairness of their condition, and even start riots, causing a social upheaval of our society. You know, the online courses started a long time ago, but they were for working people who appreciated keeping their day job while studying at night in the comfort of their home.”
“It might have been true for them because they were living on their own, but not for us, so young and vulnerable. How can we make good citizens and learn how to socialize or care for each other when we never see one another?”
“That is a huge problem of our society. It alienates people and thus, we become very self-centered and addicted to the only social media we have at our disposal: the Digi and the broadcasts from all over the city, the reality shows, the games, the virtual reality and so on.”
“And they forget to have their own dreams and to pursue them and they get depressed and impatient with anything that keeps them from escaping in the virtual world. I see your point, and I can see how harmful it can be.”
“I wonder how come you never got addicted to the entertainment.” Daniel felt his scientific curiosity aroused.
“We had only two large screens in the house. Mom and dad were always watching, and since they basically ignored me unless they needed me for various chores around the house, I started to read books, and I got a passion for the world they created in my mind, so I never really craved the shows. What about you?” she asked.
“My parents were very competitive and they did not allow David and me more than two hours of Digi or net watching per night, so we could finish our homework. After that, they gave us their own homework; they said it was to help us to excel in anything we pursued. Turned out to be a good thing, after all.”
They sat there in silence for a while longer, seated under the tree, and Daniel felt at peace, as if he had finally found his home, with Mel so close to him, enjoying their newfound intimacy.
30
Daniel was sitting at his old desk, having finished looking over the latest lab report fresh from the analyzer for the third time. He had come back to his old office, not because he had missed it, but because he desperately needed to find out more about the food coming from the processing plant.
Could this be true? It’s hard to believe someone would do that to the people. Maybe I’m wrong. But no, the results are clear. The proof is in here. What’s happening to our world? He felt exhausted by so many days of intensive research and tests, leading the team of researchers and lab technicians Tom had put at his disposal.
Daniel had called Tom and David to join him as soon as possible because the latest test showed some very disturbing evidence. Unfortunately, it was worse than he could have imagined, while confirming the suspicions he had raised all along.
His thoughts moved to Mel and her transformation, like a chrysalis turned into a beautiful butterfly. She’s so smart, she should be a teacher. She’s a natural. Can she possibly love me? It had felt so good to hold her in his arms. He wondered if he was in love. He’d never felt like this before. But then, he’d never had time or patience for anything but learning. He thought about helping her get into college.
He tried to shake off his personal feelings and once again concentrated on the job at hand.
He heard a knock and turned to see his brother and Tom at the door and motioned them to take a seat, his eyes moving back to the report in front of him, as if the results had magically changed to reveal a better outcome.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you back in your lab,” David confessed, lowering himself into the nearby chair. Tom took another chair and came to sit closer to his young friends.
“I have to say I’m happy too, but not for the reasons you might think,” Daniel replied. “I feel I have a purpose in life, and I can make a good difference. I tried to remember old lessons from school and I had the chance to partner with some good friends from the old days to study the composition of our food. Thank you, Tom, for helping me bring them together. We found some interesting facts. As a starting point, do you know where our food is coming from?”
“From the food processing plant, where else?” David seemed perplexed by the question.
“Exactly. A fully automated facility that nobody has entered for as long as anyone can remember, as per my investigation. I asked myself how come even I didn’t have the curiosity to find that out before. No matter now. The food comes pre-packaged, it’s sold to the Servers and sometimes the Professionals, too. Right so far?”
“Yeah, they buy it online or at a market, so what’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that the food recipes of the autonomous factory have been altered. We found new chemical compounds in the food we tested that were never part of the original package. The latest tests we conducted show modified glutamic acid.”
“What does that mean?” Tom asked with concern in his voice.
“The original glutamic acid has very little taste, yet when ingested, people think the food they’re eating has more protein and tastes better. It does this by tricking their tongue using the umami taste.”
“What’s umami?” Tom seemed unaware of the term, which was surprising coming from a highly educated Elite man, Daniel thought.
“It’s a little known fifth basic taste, totally different from sweet, sour, bitter or salty.”
“What is wrong with that?” David intervened, obviously unfamiliar with the details of this particular item.
“People become addicted to food containing this substance,” Daniel explained patiently, knowing that he had to try and be clearer for the benefit of his guests. “But the main point is that glutamic acid is a neurotransmitter that the brain uses to trigger various processes in the body. Thus, the cells get overexcited to the point of damage or death, causing brain damage to varying degrees, triggering or worsening depression, learning disabilities, headaches, fatigue, and disorientation.”
“You said it’s a mutated or modified compound?” asked Tom.
“Which could mean that the effects could be magnified many times over,” Daniel replied. “We will conduct more research to test our hypothesis, but we have already seen manifestations of depression and complacency among our citizens. I’m afraid they might be linked to learning disabilities, which is something very commonplace among the Servers nowadays, according to a statistics report I ordered a week ago.”
David took a moment to compose himself, with a look of consternation on his face. “What are you planning to do, then?”
“Well, we have to decide on the next step. I assume that means talking to the Elite who owns the food processing plant, and finding out who is behind this,” Daniel proposed.
“I’ll take care of that,” Tom said, taking command of the situation. “This is indeed very disturbing news. On the positive side, now we are getting closer to solving the mystery surrounding the happenings in the city. I’ll hold the owner of the processing plant personally accountable for everything that’s been happening. Do you have any idea how long we’ve been exposed to that chemical?”
“I don’t want to speculate,” Daniel tried to be cautious, “but the downward trend is very gradual, which could mean that what’s been happening here is not a recent development.”
“Yet the city mice in your experiment showed dramatic and immediate degradation,” David pointed out, somewhat confused.
“Let’s not forget that their lifespan is what, one or two years? The effects took place over several weeks. Their metabolism is much faster, and perhaps they are simply more sensitive to the chemical. I’m sorry, I am speculating here again.” Daniel stopped, realizing he was trying to defend his theory without backup.
“Agreed, let’s not jump to conclusions,” said Tom. “It’s clear that we have a dangerous chemical in our food, which also happens to be addictive, therefore people consume more food than they should.” Tom rubbed his chin in thought. “We may
have to move up that plan we discussed about the Scrappies living more off the land. And yet we can’t just remove our only food source from an entire class.”
David moved in his chair, looking somewhat impatient. “Guys, I also want to share with you some very disturbing news.” He stopped and took a long breath before continuing, as if a heavy load was on his chest.
“Do you remember when I mentioned the subliminal messaging inserted in ads? And the targeting of the subconscious mind to trigger a specific behavior to the advantage of the messenger?”
“I remember perfectly well,” said Tom. “I said that knowing that this is a possibility will give us a strategic advantage. Has there been a development? Have you found something more specific?”
“Yes, I have. I’d like to show you some of the clips I have and the images revealed in them.” David pulled out his tablet, turned it on, placed it on the desk, and tapped on one of the icons.
A commercial advertising an upcoming show appeared, featuring an attractive young woman. She was busty with long, wavy hair and wore a perfect white smile while explaining the rules of the new reality game.
At some point during the commercial, the bottom part of the image changed ever so slightly. They saw it only because David pointed to that in advance. The change was so fast it was easy to miss. It happened several times during the commercial.
“Now, look at the part with the changed hue. I’ll show it to you frame by frame, and you’ll be able to see the significance of it.” David tapped in a few commands. A freeze frame appeared on the screen and showed an image so burned in Tom’s mind, he had nightmares about it. It was the heavenly realm his wife, Lucia, had chosen over him and their son. The lush vegetation, the beautiful park with the great marble building, they were all there for him to see. Large words appeared at the bottom: I have prepared a room for you in my heavenly house. Come, beloved! Tom stood up suddenly as if his chair was on fire.
“What is this?” Tom exclaimed in horror. “It cannot be true!”
“But it is true. I saw the same image on the big screen at Happy Endings clinic, when I accompanied several of my relatives there, so I know what this represents: a call to end one’s earthly life, with the promise of eternal heaven. I know what Daniel says, that after death there is nothing, but I personally am an agnostic. In reality, no one knows for sure. But no matter what you believe, this is huge, Tom. Happy Endings isn’t just an empty promise, it’s mass murder. We have to stop it, and we have to do it now. How many more people will die thinking it’s their decision?”
”You’re right,” Tom agreed. “We have to take action. Let me talk to Serge first. In the meantime, find other examples to prove that this is indeed a conspiracy and I will take it to the city council. This has to stop.”
31
Tom met with Serge and discussed with his old friend everything that he found out from Daniel and David. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together at last. They decided that Tom would call a meeting with the city council and there he would reveal all their findings and order a formal investigation. The time for waiting was over. He had one more thing he needed to know before that. He had to find out who was behind Thomas.
With the tiny package containing one of the chips retrieved from his clone’s brain, Tom was finally on his way to see Dr. Jones at his office. The medical surgeon’s voice seemed pleasantly surprised on the phone, and he had welcomed Tom’s proposal for a meeting.
Better be ready to confront him head on, Tom was thinking. No point on beating around the bush. He wondered how he could make him talk, if he even had something to hide. I’ll just be straight with him, he finally decided.
The front desk nurse asked him to go to the doctor’s office on the main floor, second corridor on the left, and the last door to the right. Tom proceeded as instructed and in no time he knocked on the door and heard a voice, asking him to enter.
Dr. Jones greeted him at the door and offered him a seat in a luxurious armchair, in which Tom immersed himself with a sigh of pleasure.
“How are you, old friend?” Dr. Jones asked, and Tom felt himself smiling, thinking back to all their years working together.
“All right, thanks for asking. And how about you?”
“Well, I’m fine now, once I got over the disaster at the cloning facility. Such a pity, all the destruction. All that work in vain now. We have to start all over again, I’m afraid.”
“I was never a big fan of the work being done there. If we’re starting over, perhaps we should focus our efforts in making life better for everyone, instead of just the Elites.”
Jones frowned. “I’ve been conducting research on various cloning techniques at that facility for years, my whole life’s work is gone. What really happened, Tom? Who destroyed the clinic?”
“You heard the announcement. There was an accident, an explosion caused by some pressure vessels, probably oxygen tanks.”
“Accident, my ass. There was no accident. It was sabotage, you must know that. You can be honest with me. We’ve known each other since you still needed your mother to help blow your nose.”
“Yes, we’ve known each other for a long time. And since you mentioned it, you can be honest with me too. Did you know that I had a clone?” Tom’s eyes bored into the old man’s eyes, unwavering.
“Of course I didn’t, you never ordered one,” the doctor replied, holding his stare.
“Yes, we both know that, and yet someone broke into my genetic material bank and stole one of my embryos. Did you know about that?”
“Is this a simple question or an investigation? Because I’m not comfortable with your tone, Tom. I’m old enough to be your father.”
“Sorry, doc, I didn’t mean to sound like I’m accusing you of anything. The fact remains that I went through a very rough time lately. For the last four months, the Thomas you’ve been working with was a clone that stole my life away from me.”
The doctor seemed taken aback. “How did that happen? That’s outrageous.”
“I’ll tell you later. It’s dealt with and done now. The clone is dead. And I had an autopsy performed on it. It’s why I’m here talking to you.” Tom took a chip from his pants pocket. “We discovered this implanted in his brain. Do you know what this is? And what it’s for?”
Dr. Jones got up from his chair and came close to Tom’s armchair. He grabbed the chip in his hand, looked closely at it, and then he gave it back to Tom.
“I haven’t seen anything quite like it. Do you have a lead?”
“No, that’s why I came here first. I want to go to the medical device manufacturing plant, maybe they built the product.”
“That’s a good idea, Tom.” The doctor stretched leisurely, then said, “I feel like having a scotch, you look like you need one more than I do. Care to have one?”
“Sure. Neat, please.”
The doctor went to the bar obscured in one of the cupboards, and poured two generous glasses of scotch, one neat and the other on the rocks.
The old man is getting soft, needing ice in his drink nowadays, Tom thought, while receiving his glass with his open hand.
They both raised their glasses to each other’s health and Tom downed the drink he loved, which was especially enjoyable coming from the doctor’s coveted stash. There was always something special about that scotch. This time, though, there was something amiss with the taste and Tom wondered briefly what it was before Jones began talking again.
“Now, Tom, let me explain some things to you,” the doctor said, taking a seat on the edge of his desk, facing Tom.
Tom signaled the doctor to go ahead.
“Do you remember my son, Arthur?” Tom remembered the doctor’s son who had died more than ten years before in an accident. “He was the best man I’ve ever known,” Jones continued. “Arthur had a dream, a big and generous dream. He wanted to escape the limitations of our city. He was always sort of claustrophobic and he felt the constraints of the city and the ever present mist mo
re acutely than the rest of us. Since we couldn’t expand the outer world, he thought of expanding the inner world, as it were. Oh, how smart he was, my Arthur. Nobody came even close to his genius.”
Tom remembered a different Arthur, a schizophrenic man, always watching his shadow. Still, he acknowledged the fact that the man had been brilliant. A lot of the games and virtual reality shows had been designed by him, and even at present, all the software was based on the platforms Arthur had developed, based on modularity and scalability.
“Arthur had dreamed of a connectivity of all the minds in the city, a network that would enable the memories and thoughts and feelings to be shared by everybody, so that no knowledge would be lost, no life would vanish without a trace. It was his way of securing a means of everyone living forever.
“His dream was so grandiose... but the society we lived in had so many undesirable elements, such mediocre minds, and such lack of depth and breadth of thought. It was beyond the capacity of the computer databases to store all the information, and rather useless in some cases.” Jones stood up to look out the window.
“Instead of trying to save everyone, his idea turned to saving the best minds. Eventually he determined, based on statistical methods, that the civilization he dreamed of establishing was unsustainable, given the number of people.” He turned to face Tom.
“Euthanasia thus became an integral part of his plan, along with the creation of the network of minds, living for the most part inside the virtual reality of the computer. Can you imagine living in a world where you could go anywhere you’d like, not restricted by mist or walls or anything at all? It meant creating programs that would allow the people to travel to exotic places, copies of the original ones that perished together with the earth we had lost, plus completely new ones, even going to distant constellations and immersing yourself in the stellar dust, if only in your imagination. He invented a computer chip that could be implanted in the brain, thus connecting everyone forever. The problem was that the existing human being has a hard time adjusting to a new implant, foreign to their organic material of the brain.” Tom was starting to feel drowsy, but Jones kept talking.
Elysian Fields Page 15