by Jade Kerrion
“Kav!” Kir shouted.
“What?”
“Cover your nose!”
Fascinated, Jem watched in silence as more ships sailed forth from the mainland; the armada reformed. They were going at it again.
Kav wailed. “I can’t cover my nose. See! My hands are behind my back. I can’t cover my nose with my hands behind my back.”
“Use your hands, damn it,” Kir said.
“You told me not to use my hands in here. I’m gonna sneeze again…I’m gonna…AH CHOO!”
The fleet dissipated. It never reformed.
Jem covered her mouth, the muffled sound trapped between a chortle and a sob. “Oh, God, I can’t watch.”
“Stand all the way back here.” Kir physically picked up his brother and moved him out beyond the asteroid field. “Jem, are you okay?”
She swallowed the chuckle. “It’s so bad. I thought that we’d figured out the art of planetary management, but no, we’re still careening from crisis to crisis.”
“You don’t sound or look mad,” Kir said carefully.
“I’m not. I’m resigned.” She giggled again. “Just imagine how the events must have seemed to that country. A massive armada shows up on your shores, and suddenly, bad weather takes it down. A few years later, another armada shows up, but once again, it’s consumed by bad weather. If that’s not a divine wind, nothing else is.”
“You’re taking this better than I thought you would.”
“Practice,” Jem said with a straight face.
SimOne cut into their easy banter. “Alert. An alien vector was inserted at 35°N, 103°E”
“What?” Jem turned sharply back to SimOne.
“Where did it come from? Who inserted it?” Kir asked.
SimOne stood very straight; she stared at something apparently only she could see. “It came from Kav Davos.”
“Get it out,” Kir ordered.
“Negative. The alien vector cannot be removed.”
“Track it, then. I want to know where it goes. What is it? A humanoid?” Kir asked.
“Negative. It is an enterobacteriaceae.”
“Damn it.” Jem paled. “Give me a population map, SimOne.”
The world map unfurled across the astral screen. The disease spread, flowing out of the heart of Jem’s empire, toward the west and south. Dark patches faded, thinning out, sometimes disappearing completely.
“Oh, my God…” Jem whispered. “They’re dying. They’re dying all over.”
SimOne’s quiet voice cut through the silence. “The eastern empire’s population plunged from one hundred and twenty million to sixty million. Serious depopulation and permanent change is occurring in the economic and social structures of the southern empire. People are fleeing the disease and carrying it with them.”
The decimation did not stop at the water’s edge.
“Why is it crossing the water?” Kir demanded. “How can it do that?”
“Ships,” Jem said. She pressed her lips together, but could not hold back the quiver in her voice. “The bacteriaceae are carried on vectors—animals and humans—and they’re crossing the water on ships.”
The disease tore through the countries of the west. Black gave way to emaciated grey. “The western countries are losing between thirty and sixty percent of their population,” SimOne reported.
Jem could not think. She could scarcely breathe.
“Surely there’s a way to stop this,” Kir insisted.
“Plagues usually die out, eventually,” Jem heard herself say softly. She did not recognize her own voice. “They’ll die as they move up north, where it’s too cold to sustain much life.”
“We can’t just wait—”
Jem shook her head. “There’s nothing else we can do.” Helplessness clawed at her, its cruel talons shredding the illusion of the simulation. Her people were real—of course, they were real. She had created them. More importantly, she had touched individual minds, her own heart and mind thrilling at the contact. Her people were real, and in that moment, they were dying by the millions. She blinked back the tears that swarmed into her eyes; she could do nothing to help them.
“Kir?” Kav called out softly.
Kir held out his arm to his brother. “Come here.”
“Did I do that?” Kav asked hesitantly, closing the distance to his older brother.
Kir said nothing, but held Kav close, his touch gentle.
Jem looked at their planet, its diseased population struggling to survive, and then over at the two brothers. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Let’s go, Kir.”
He looked up at her, puzzled. “Go where?”
“We’re taking Kav to the doctor now. There is no time to waste.”
Jem hated hospital rooms. She hated the memories of quietly beeping machines valiantly keeping her father alive against the odds. Her teeth clenched against the nausea churning in her stomach. She leaned against the wall, trying to take up as little space as humanly possible.
The hospital room was large and smelled of cleaning alcohol. The sheets on the bed were pristine, except for Kav’s muddy shoeprint imprinted on a corner. She had tugged off Kav’s dirty shoes and placed them in a corner of the room. Kav sat on the bed; he wriggled his fingers and toes and fidgeted as if an insect had crawled into his shirt, but otherwise he had submitted to the doctor’s examination with a cheerful smile.
The doctor smiled down at Kav. “I think you’ll be staying with us for awhile.”
“Really? Do I have to stay here?” Kav turned his most pitiful expression on his brother.
Kir was unmoved. “Yes, and I’ll be here with you most of the time.”
“You promise?” Kav asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“And if he can’t, I’ll be here,” Jem promised.
The doctor shut down his astral workstation. “A word with you, Mr. Davos, and you too, Ms. Moran.”
“We’ll be just outside the door, Kav,” Kir said as he followed the doctor from the room. He held the door open for Jem to pass through and then shut it behind them. He looked up at the doctor. “Well?”
“Bacterial pneumonic infection. It’s a good thing you caught it when you did. Kav may look perfectly healthy, but his lungs were in bad shape. The physical symptoms look like a common cold, but by the time they emerge, it’s usually too late; the infection escalates very quickly from that point. I’ve put him on a treatment plan that should take care of the symptoms and the cause. It will take us at least seven to ten days to be sure he’s fully recovered, and we’d like to keep him here the whole time.”
“All right.” Kir nodded. “Is there anything we need to watch out for? We’ve been around him.”
“Your blood tests came back clean, for now. I’ve sent the alert to your personal devices. It’ll test your blood periodically and alert us at the first signs of bacterial infection before it affects your lungs.”
“Okay. Thanks, doctor,” Kir said. He raked his trembling fingers through his tangled hair and breathed out heavily.
“How did you find out that he had pneumonic infection when he had no symptoms?” the doctor asked.
Jem’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “He sneezed and killed off about thirty percent of our planet’s population in the world simulation program.”
The doctor’s eyes widened. “Ah, the world simulation program. That would make sense. The effects of the bacteria would have escalated exponentially in a simulated world. It’s a good thing you caught on so quickly to the possibility that something was wrong.”
“I didn’t,” Kir said, looking over at Jem. “She did.”
“Kav is lucky you were around, then. All right. I have to finish up with other patients. I’ll be in to check on Kav at least twice a day, and the nurses know to call me if there’s an emergency.”
“All right. Thanks again, Doctor Janus.”
The doctor walked away, leaving them in the corridor outside Kav’s room. Kir blew out his brea
th. “Wow. I…thank you.”
Jem touched Kir’s hand gently. “He’ll be all right.”
“I know. You caught it in time. I could have lost him, and I don’t know how I would have…Thank you.”
Jem flushed. “You’ve said that once already. We’re all good.”
“About the planet…I’m sorry.”
“Me too, but it’s okay. Kav is going to be all right.”
Kir dragged his fingers through his hair again. “I never would have thought all those dying people on our planet could actually serve a purpose other than to bear testament to our stupidity or carelessness.”
Millions of people had paid the price to save one life, yet looking at Kir, Jem could not bring herself to regret the heavy cost. “You better go back to Kav. He’ll be wondering where you are.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
“Will you be able to survive on hospital food, or should I bring you something?”
“I’ll be fine. You’ve done more than enough for both of us.”
They stood staring awkwardly at each other for a long silent moment until Kir finally turned and went back into Kav’s room. Left alone in the corridor, Jem sighed and slowly turned away. It had been a hell of a day.
10
The Renaissance was a cultural movement that spanned roughly the 14th to the 17th century, beginning in Italy in the Late Middle Ages and later spreading to the rest of Europe. As a cultural movement, it encompassed a flowering of literature, science, art, religion, and politics, and a resurgence of learning based on classical sources, the development of linear perspective in painting, and gradual but widespread educational reform.
– Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia
* * *
Jem knocked on the door of the hospital room and peeked in.
“Jem!” Kav shrieked.
At his enthusiastic greeting, Jem relaxed into a grin. She walked into the room, with Rio at her side. “Hi, Kav.”
“Did you bring something new for me?”
“I sure did. Hi, Kir.” She offered Kir a smile as he stood up to meet her. “This is Rio Loren. Rio, Kir and Kav Davos.”
“Hey.” Rio smiled, extending his hand in greeting, first to Kir and then to Kav. “How are you doing?”
“Kav’s better,” Kir said. “He’s been looking forward to your visit all day.”’
“Good. Hi, Kav.” Rio stepped closer to the bed. He grinned and reached out to ruffle Kav’s hair. “I wanted to meet the guy who has gotten Jem so worried.”
“You’re not worried anymore, right, Jem?” Kav looked up at her.
“No, I’m not worried anymore. You’re recovering so fast. I brought puzzle books. Do you want to—”
Kav bounced on the bed. “I love puzzle books.”
“I would never have guessed that,” Jem said dryly. She looked over at Kir. “I’ve got him, if you want to take a break.”
“I’ll buy you a drink,” Rio offered. “You look like you could use one.”
Kir hesitated briefly and then shrugged. “Sure, sounds great.”
Jem flipped open her astral workstation and handed Kav a stylus. “All right, Kav. Where should we start?’
An hour later, Jem looked up when the door opened to admit Kir. “Where’s Rio?”
“He had to leave for class.” Kir’s gaze darted to his sleeping brother. “Your boyfriend seems like a nice guy. Your fiancé, I mean.”
“He is,” Jem said and then dropped the topic altogether. It felt odd talking about Rio, especially to Kir. “Hope it was a good break.”
“Yeah, I needed it. Staying in this room all day would drive anyone crazy. Thanks for coming by. I know you don’t need to, and you’re not a big fan of kids, so I doubly appreciate it.”
“I don’t mind some kids,” she said and was surprised to realize that she meant it. “I thought you could use a break, and we could use a chance to talk about the simulation before the next semester starts up tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to be able to get to class for another week or so.”
“I know, so class is coming to you. I’ve been working with SimOne over the past week, staying on top of issues on our planet and in the universe, and there are things you definitely need to know.” Jem pulled her personal device off her wrist, set it on the table, and then activated the astral workstation. “SimOne, are you there?”
SimOne’s astral image projected into the room. “Yes, I am ready. Good afternoon, Kir.”
“Hi, SimOne.” Kir sank down in a chair. “I guess there’s no getting out of this. So, what’s the latest news?”
“We didn’t want to bother you with it earlier, but I think we need to do something,” Jem said.
“That’s your standard response to everything,” Kir said. “I’m not sure it counts. SimOne, what do you think?”
The android spoke up. “The plague was especially devastating to the western countries, following centuries of intellectual stagnation. They had neither the knowledge nor the skills to treat the disease, and they were too enmeshed in their archaic beliefs to seek anything other than a supernatural explanation for the plague. As a result, they blamed and persecuted several minority groups for causing the disease.”
“Idiots,” Kir said.
“Exactly,” SimOne agreed.
“So, what are you proposing?” Kir asked, turning to Jem.
Jem sighed. “I think…we can’t win this simulation.”
Kir gaped at her. “What are you saying?”
“Kav’s sickness was a turning point for me. I think I finally understand what you’ve been trying to tell me. It’s not a game, and my treating it like a game was wrong. When Kav fell sick, millions of people on our planet died. Every one of them is an individual, just like Kav. We could go full out and try to win this game, or we can just focus on the people and the planet. We can get them to the point where we can be sure they’ll be okay without adult supervision through the summer, even if it means we won’t be able to win this simulation.”
“And you’re okay with not winning?”
“I have to be,” Jem said quietly. “I just don’t see how it can happen. We’ve lost so many people. We need to try something different. We haven’t that many extra people that we can afford to lose them through stupidity and unchecked human superstition.”
“How? Were you planning on talking to them in their sleep?”
“I’ve already started talking to them.”
Kir’s eyes widened. “What?”
“It was just a game I started several weeks ago. I wanted some of them to create cryptic books. I figured it would keep them busy in between wars.”
“You connected directly with them?”
Jem nodded.
He tilted his head to one side, the gesture challenging. “Was that another one of your unilateral decisions?”
She glowered at him. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of irony. My literary project is just a game, and it’s not damaging the planet. My point is, I’ve connected directly with our humans through dreams, and it’s not that difficult to direct their unconscious minds. We don’t have to manage everybody. We just need to go after a few key people.”
“Such as?”
“Their leaders. We target their nobility, their scientists and artists, their philosophers. We educate them. We take the raw material, give it stimulation, and then see where it goes.”
“See where it goes? Wow, I’d never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing with my empire? I don’t get involved in daily decisions. I step in when I think it matters, and it matters now.”
“Why?” Kir asked.
Jem bit down on her lower lip. “SimOne, tell him.”
SimOne’s astral image turned to face Kir. “A new dynasty has taken over the Shixar Imperium, and they are once again expanding the range of their influence.”
“We have an agreement with them,” Kir said.
Jem
shook her head. “We have an agreement with the team that manages the Shixar, but our planet does not have an agreement with the Shixar Imperium. I think we’ve seen enough instances of planets doing precisely what their managers don’t want them to do. I don’t think we can trust the Imperium.”
“And you don’t want to fly under the radar anymore?”
“At some point, our planet will stop flying under the radar. Would you prefer it stop flying under the radar now, while we are still around to guide it, or over the summer when no one’s around to keep it out of trouble?”
Kir nodded and conceded the point. “So, what is our goal? Get it up to space travel by the end of the semester?”
“That, and generally self-managing.”
Kir grinned. “That goal I can get behind.”
“There’s also another reason. SimOne?”
The android’s astral image appeared to inhale deeply before speaking. “I have not been able to track the anomaly at a macro level, but detailed analysis of sensor reports confirm that humans are interacting daily with it.”
“Uh…” Kir’s brown eyes narrowed. “What’s that in a language I understand?”
“The anomaly is embedded in the planet,” SimOne said.
“That’s impossible. This is a simulation. It’s a perfectly controlled, sterile environment,” Kir said.
Jem chuckled, the sound without humor. “You’re starting to sound like SimOne. I sent a note to the professor, asking him about it, and his reply was a single line…a question: How do you explain anomalies in our own world?”
Kir shrugged. “Obviously, I should have taken more classes in Philosophy. I’m not getting any of this. So, SimOne, you’re telling me that there’s no evidence of the anomaly at the macro level. The central command system can detect no traces of it.”
“Correct,” the android said.
“But humans are reporting anomalies daily, things they can’t explain, things that we haven’t done on purpose or by accident, and that can’t be attributed to the central command system.”
“Correct.”
“And then the professor sends back a cryptic reply?”