“Yolanda,” Martin’s voice said. “I feel like shit.”
Yolanda turned to face him. His face was sweaty too, while his hands were shaking ominously. “I feel worse,” she said. “And I think we’d better go to bed.”
Martin didn't even make crude jokes about going to bed together, she noted, as they staggered towards the barracks. He must have been badly dazed by the exam, just like the others. She was too tired herself to be more than mildly sympathetic, even though he would have found it harder than her. From what she’d heard, schools in the ghettos tended to be little more than gang headquarters or havens for drug dealers. Under the circumstances, it was astonishing that Martin had turned out even mildly civilised.
Just like me, she thought. My stepmother would have turned me into a slave if I’d stayed.
She was too tired to do more than throw herself on her bunk and go to sleep when she entered the barracks. Darkness descended on her almost as soon as she closed her eyes. It felt like only moments had passed when she awoke, but her implants informed her that she had slept for nearly ten hours. The sound of snoring from some of the other bunks told her that not everyone had recovered – yet – from the experience. Part of her mind wondered if she ever would.
Absently, she activated her implants and started to browse the datanet. It was easy to understand the dangers, she saw now, as torrents of information started to flow through her head. Everyone in the Solar Union seemed to have an opinion on everything, producing billions of blogs and websites on every conceivable topic. She still couldn't send messages outside Sparta, a restriction that made no sense to her, but she could read everything that wasn't behind a password. And there was a staggering amount out there free for the taking, without any password at all. She could literally drown herself in information.
She danced from topic to topic, following links that appeared in her mind. Some sites discussed matters on Earth, with attitudes ranging from absolute contempt to even a handful of people who wanted to go back and live on Earth. They seemed to attract no shortage of critics, all of whom asked the obvious question. Why didn't they go back to Earth if they wanted to live there? It wasn't as if shuttle tickets were expensive.
Out of a morbid sense of curiosity, she did a sweep for her stepmother’s name. Nothing appeared in the datanet, not even a missing persons report for Yolanda herself. Clearly, her family hadn't bothered to notice she’d gone. She disconnected herself from the datanet before she could start to cry, then placed her implant’s sleep inducers into primary mode and fell asleep. The next time she woke, it was mid-morning and a note was blinking in front of her eyes. She was due to meet the sergeants in four hours to discuss her future.
Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself out of bed and walked into the shower, scooping up a change of clothes on the way. If she was due to meet her fate, the least she could do was wash, wear a fresh uniform and eat something first. And then see if both Martin and she had made it through the barriers to further advancement. She honestly wasn't sure what she’d do if she was told she couldn't stay. Or, for that matter, what Martin would do.
And when, her own thoughts asked her, did you start to care for him?
It nagged at her mind as she stripped, showered and dressed. Martin wasn't the sort of boy she’d liked on Earth, issues of race aside. There seemed to be no reason to like him, apart from his determination to better himself. In many ways, they were kindred souls. She pushed the thought aside as she walked out of the barracks and into the mess, where the cooks had served something that actually looked edible. They must have been rewarding the recruits for enduring their first set of exams, she decided. There couldn't be any other reason.
The hours until she met the sergeants dragged. Martin was apparently still asleep, probably using his implants to ensure he knew nothing until he met his destiny. Yolanda sent him a message warning him to be ready, then forced herself to wait, skimming the news, until the time finally came for her to walk to the office. It was hard, agonisingly hard, to force her legs to work. They didn't seem to want her to go anywhere she might learn her fate. But, somehow, she made it to the office and stepped inside.
“Recruit Miguel,” Sergeant Bass said. “Be seated.”
Yolanda obeyed. Bass was alone in the office, something that bothered her. On Earth, no male officer – or teacher, or policeman, or anything else – would be alone with a woman, no matter their job. A single accusation of ... inappropriateness would be enough to destroy a career, even if the accusation was completely false. But the Solar Union had ways to get at the truth, the briefing notes had stated, and making a false accusation could – no, would – lead to criminal charges. Earth’s paranoia had no place in space.
“Your exam results were generally positive,” Bass said, without preamble. “You made some mistakes, of course, but generally you fell well within the acceptable brackets for starship personnel.”
Yolanda stared at him. “Really?”
“No, I’m lying because I’m a sadist,” Bass sneered. He met her eyes. “You passed. Congratulations. Now you have to decide about your future.”
He went on before she could say a word. “You also fell into the brackets for intelligence work, probably on Earth,” he added. “The SIA would probably be interested in recruiting you, if I forwarded them your file. And then there’s the prospect of logistics. It isn't particularly glamorous, but it does offer the chance to make a meaningful difference. But the choice is yours.”
Yolanda hesitated. She’d heard that before.
“If I insist on staying with my first choice,” she said carefully, “what would happen to me?”
“You’d go to the starship training complex and start work,” Bass informed her, shortly. “If you passed all the tests, you would be a fully-qualified starship crewperson, ready to be assigned to a starship. And, if you failed, there would probably still be jobs for you in the civilian sector.”
He gave her a thin smile. “This isn't Earth,” he said, warningly. “You get to reach the heights you can scale, through your own work. We won’t force you to take training for a job you think you will hate. All we ask is you show commitment to the job you wanted to earn.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Yolanda said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to qualify for starship duty.”
“What I mind doesn't matter,” Bass said. He tapped the terminal in front of him. “You have the ability to become a starship crewperson, therefore you will have the chance to qualify. All we can offer you is that chance. Good luck.”
He rose to his feet, then held out a hand. “You will have a week’s shore leave, which you may spend anywhere within the Solar Union,” he added. “After that, you will be expected to report back to Sparta for the next stage of your training. Failing to show up will result in disciplinary action at the very least, Recruit Miguel. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Yolanda said.
“I will also give you a word of warning,” Bass said. “You grew up on Earth, so you may find the Solar Union a little ... garish. There will be much to astonish you, much to shock you, much to offend you ... and not everyone will have your best interests in mind. Be careful what you say or do.”
He smirked. “We had a woman from Earth throw an absolute fit because she visited an asteroid where everyone is legally obliged to carry a weapon at all times,” he said. “She felt utterly unsafe just seeing everyone carrying weapons, even though she was never in any danger. I don’t think she got any sympathy and you won’t either, if you do something similar. It will look very bad on your record.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Yolanda said. She hesitated, then leaned forward. “Is it safe to carry a loaded weapon on an asteroid settlement?”
Bass shrugged. “The general rules are simple,” he said. “You can do whatever you like, as long as you don’t harm non-consenting persons or do anything with a strong chance of harming non-consenting persons. Most settlements have strong rules against accidental d
ischarges – I believe there was a person on Mars who was put outside the airlock for shooting at the dome protecting the settlement. We do not feel inclined to tolerate fools.”
Yolanda nodded, then left the compartment. Martin was waiting outside.
“They said you were in there,” he said. He was grinning from ear to ear. “I made it!”
“So did I,” Yolanda said. She paused. “You’d better stay in touch, you know.”
“I certainly will,” Martin said. “Do you want to come on shore leave with me? It isn't as if we have anyone else to go with, is it?”
“I ... yes, I think I will,” Yolanda said. She hesitated. Going anywhere alone with a boy would have been a terminally stupid idea on Earth. “But separate rooms, if that’s all right with you.”
“It’s fine,” Martin said. “I do understand.”
He smiled. “Besides, this way I can bring a girl back to my room, if I find one.”
Yolanda grinned. “You think you would?”
“Have you seen the adverts online?” Martin asked. “They do things I didn't even know were possible.”
“The datanet is not for porn,” Yolanda protested, although she was giggling too hard to sound properly stern. “Is it?”
“The most popular sites are all pornographic,” Martin countered. He held out a hand. “Come on, please. I don’t want to waste a moment of our time.”
Chapter Ten
Despite urgent shipments of viral counteragents from the United States, Europe and Japan, AIDS-VIII has claimed the lives of over ten thousand South Africans, mainly teenage boys and girls. The spread of a mutated form of AIDS, according to doctors, was aided and abetted by contaminated medical equipment supplied by local manufacturers. They have yet to rule out the possibility of terrorists being involved.
However, in a speech, the President of South Africa urged people to look to traditional cures, rather than modern medicine ...
-Solar News Network, Year 51
“You’re new here, aren't you?”
Martin looked up. The small cafe had seemed a good place to sit down, after spending a week exploring Ceres. It rested in the middle of a park, where children played without fear of being kidnapped, raped or accidentally gunned down by gangbangers fighting their enemies. Part of him feared open spaces, but the rest of him found them welcoming, despite the lingering fear he was making himself a target.
“Yes,” he said, carefully. “And you are?”
“I'm a Denier,” the man said. His voice was curiously flat, without even a hint of emotion. “Can I convince you to join us?”
“I have no idea what a Denier actually is,” Martin said. He’d seen no shortage of weird ideas in the week they’d spent on the asteroid, some of which had made absolutely no sense to him. “What do you do?”
“Emotion is the great curse of mankind,” the man said. He sat down facing Martin and nodded to him. Up close, his face was curiously blank, as if he couldn't do more with his lips than talk. “Just imagine how badly humanity messes up when emotion is involved.”
Martin frowned. “They do?”
“Yes,” the man said. “My name is Ninety-Seven. It is a simple number, with no emotional resonance at all. I have no emotions. They were removed from my mind through brain surgery. If I see a pretty girl, I feel nothing for her.”
“That sounds awful,” Martin commented.
“It is nothing of the sort,” Ninety-Seven insisted. “When you see a pretty girl walking past, your eyes automatically turn to follow her buttocks as they sway invitingly. You are distracted from greater things by thoughts of taking her to bed. When you are kissing and cuddling with a girl and she says no further, your emotions push you to override her will and force yourself on her.”
“I have never forced myself on anyone in my life,” Martin said.
“But you could,” Ninety-Seven said. “Your emotions might lead you to rape. Or to do something else you would regret. Anger, fear, hatred, disdain, contempt ... they are all emotions and they push humans into making mistakes. Emotional reactions are dangerous and so we banish them from our bodies. I feel nothing towards you, either positive or negative. You may join us or you may not and I would still feel nothing.”
“It sounds like a bland life,” Martin said. “You would never know the pleasure of success ...”
“Or the pain of failure,” Ninety-Seven pointed out. “We would feel nothing, whatever happens.”
Martin looked up at the park. The first time he had set foot on the asteroid, he had been disturbed at seeing the landscape curving up and around into the distance, as if they were walking on the inner side of a football. Now, he was almost used to it, although he did keep his eyes lowered to the ground. It was easier to tolerate, he suspected, if someone was born in such an environment. But they might have similar problems on Earth.
“This place is fantastic,” he said. “But you wouldn’t see that, would you?”
“We can appreciate what humanity has built,” Ninety-Seven said.
“But you wouldn't feel the urge to change anything either, if you grew up in the shit,” Martin said, after a moment. He looked back at the emotionless man. “You’d just ... accept it and move on.”
“Which is something humanity needs to learn,” Ninety-Seven said. “How many problems would be left behind, powerless to harm us, if humanity just accepted them and moved on?”
He paused, then went on. “Divorced from our emotions, we are safe from being led astray,” he added. “You would not enjoy such freedoms.”
“But I also wouldn't enjoy the ability to be myself,” Martin said. “I might as well be a robot.”
“You’d be free of your emotions,” Ninety-Seven said. “That wouldn't make you a robot.”
“But it might as well,” Martin said. “I like feeling things!”
Ninety-Seven leaned forward. “Everything?”
Martin hesitated. He recalled – he dwelled on it every night – the frustrations of growing up in the ghetto, of knowing that life was cheap and that a single false move could get him killed ... and that no one, really, would give a damn. Perhaps it would be better to feel nothing, rather than fear and hatred ... and resentment, the resentment he now knew had been used as a tool to keep his people under control. And yet, if he had felt nothing, would he have wanted to leave and made it happen? Would he have befriended Yolanda if he hadn’t liked her on some level?
“I think emotions are what give us our drive,” he said, finally. “The good ones reward us and the bad ones push us forward.”
“So you reject our offer to have your emotions surgically removed,” Ninety-Seven said. “Do you know what I feel about that?”
“Nothing,” Martin said.
“Precisely,” Ninety-Seven said. “I may not have the satisfaction of knowing I’ve made a convert, but I also lack the disappointment I might otherwise feel in you.”
He rose to his feet, then cocked his head slightly. A contact code appeared in Martin’s implants, inviting him to visit their website or even send a message, if he wished to learn more about the Deniers. Martin wasn't sure if they were deniers, in any conventional sense; they didn't have emotions, rather than just denying their existence. It was almost as if he were denying being a woman.
“I’ll check out your website,” Martin said. “But I make no promises.”
“I do not expect you to make any promises,” Ninety-Seven said.
He bowed, then retreated into the crowd.
Martin shook his head, then looked at the others as they walked past. Most of them were human, although he’d had to check his implants a few times, as they didn't look human, sporting green or blue skin purely for amusement. Others were definitely alien, looking thoroughly out of place even in the Solar Union. Martin had felt a chill running down his spine the first time he’d seen an alien, something utterly inhuman. Now, he rather thought he was used to seeing them.
The asteroid perplexed, amused and bothered him in
equal measure. There was no suspicion, no fearful glances from one person to answer; the residents trusted each other, even though it would have been suicidal, on Earth, to trust anyone outside the family. They didn't fear being raped, or having their children snatched off the streets, or even forced to pay bribes to the local police force merely to avoid being arrested. The children playing in the park were largely unsupervised and yet they were fine. They seemed to get along fine despite possessing all the colours of the rainbow, or wearing clothes that ranged from the enveloping to the sparse. No one would have dressed their children like that on Earth.
And yet ... the kids had a zest for life he could only envy.
So did their parents, he suspected, and the rest of the asteroid’s population. There was no fear; instead, there was a determination to be themselves, to live and grow and build a community that actually worked. The more he looked at it, the more he envied the children the opportunities they were handed on a platter. They would never face discrimination based on anything, but ability. And even the less able would not be forced into jobs they couldn't handle, purely to meet some recruitment quota ...
A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons Page 10