Altered Reality

by Eliza Green

  Robbie shuddered. ‘So why do we eat food at all if it isn’t really necessary?’ he asked.

  ‘Because it’s the one pleasure we humans still have,’ Joel said. ‘Never tasting food again—even replicator food? Now that would be almost as torturous as having to listen to you ramble on for hours with your mind numbing questions.’

  ‘Are we the only ones awake right now?’ Robbie turned to look around him.

  ‘Yes, it would appear so,’ Susan said.

  ‘Who are you? Who’s that other person with you? Why are we restrained?’

  ‘You need to calm down. Stop struggling. It won’t do you any good. My name is Susan Bouchard and that’s Joel Taylor to my right.’

  Susan watched Robbie for a moment; this experience was probably more frightening for him than for her or Joel. They had seen many things at the genetic testing facility in Toronto, where they’d both worked for the past three years. Their lab had recently commissioned a series of genetic trials to better understand the limitations of the human genome. The trials had been designed to target people like Annie Weber, who carried genetic abnormalities that normal nanoid treatments were unable to fix. While gene therapy had eliminated defects in human genetic code, seven per cent of the population still responded poorly to the treatment. Their trials set out to understand why seven per cent of the population seemed to be resistant to the nanoid delivery and repair system. Susan’s role had been to recruit and test volunteers; Joel was an analyst. Susan had been hired mainly because of her ability to connect with people. She’d always had that gift, even as a small child. If she could calm Annie Weber, she could console a frightened young man.

  ‘It’s going to be fine,’ she said soothingly. ‘You’ll only hurt yourself if you keep struggling.’

  ‘Okay,’ Robbie conceded through sniffles.

  Susan allowed a few moments of silence to pass while she waited for Robbie to settle, take it all in, get used to the strangely lit space.

  ‘Shit, I just thought about a cup of tea and now that’s all I want,’ Joel suddenly said, licking his lips.

  Susan threw him a dirty look. ‘So Robbie,’ she said, ‘you seem a little young to be on the transfer list.’

  ‘That’s what I was thinking,’ Joel said. ‘Did your family transfer with you?’

  Susan had been wondering the same thing.

  ‘No, I transferred alone.’

  ‘Are they already located on Exilon 5?’ she asked gently.

  ‘No. They’re still on Earth. Why?’

  Susan drew in a quick breath. It made Robbie start crying again. She ignored him.

  ‘I don’t understand, Joel. The transfer programme isn’t supposed to break up family units. Why the separation?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, Suse,’ Joel said. They both knew the transfer programme was supposed to move government employees, skilled workers and labourers first, to help normalise the cities.

  ‘This looks like a stasis room, but a modified version of it. There’s an extra tube here—the green one,’ Susan said, nodding down at her arm. ‘That isn’t necessary to keep people in suspended animation.’

  ‘Yeah, the same thing crossed my mind,’ Joel replied. ‘Are you thinking accident or design that we’re awake?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t believe in coincidences.’

  ‘What are you two going on about?’ Robbie said through his tears. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Easy kid,’ Joel said. ‘We don’t know exactly.’

  ‘Are we on the passenger ship?’

  ‘No,’ Susan said.

  ‘Are we in stasis?’

  ‘No. It’s a little too sterile for stasis, I think,’ said Susan.

  ‘Exactly!’ Joel said. ‘I couldn’t put my finger on it. So what the hell are we doing here? Why have they got us trussed up like animals?’

  Susan’s previously calm and soothing voice had a new edge to it. ‘Well, if I knew that we wouldn’t be debating the issue.’

  Robbie sniffed. ‘When are we getting to the new planet?’

  ‘Oh God,’ Joel groaned. ‘I sense another Annie Weber in our midst. Susan, you take this one. You’re good with the crazies.’

  ‘Joel!’ Susan scolded him. ‘He’s just a kid, and he has a right to ask questions.’

  Joel grunted.

  ‘Stop talking about me like I’m not here,’ Robbie moaned. ‘Where are we?’

  Susan sighed. ‘My guess is that we aren’t going to Exilon 5. I reckon we’re still somewhere on Earth.’

  ‘And?’ Robbie wasn’t going to be fobbed off like a child.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What about the rest of it? Why are we here?’

  ‘What did you do before you were called to transfer?’ Susan asked him, trying to change the subject.

  ‘I work … I worked as a trainee in a food replication company.’

  ‘And your father?’

  ‘He works in an obsolete technology processing plant. Why?’

  ‘Doing what exactly?’

  ‘He’s an engineer.’

  ‘No, I mean, specifically?’

  ‘I don’t know. Building stuff, I guess.’

  ‘Is it high end stuff? Does he work with the garbage processing plants or does he build autobots? Help me out here.’

  ‘Em, I don’t know.’

  ‘Try to think. Please.’

  ‘I think it’s all high end stuff, like military hardware, software.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I can hear the wheels turning, Suse,’ Joel interrupted. ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘The work we do has to be linked somehow,’ Susan explained. ‘The boy is quite intelligent’—Joel grunted—‘His father works in a high tech company. So we’re all important people with the same genetics.’

  ‘So you think it’s to do with genetics testing? But that’s what we do,’ said Joel sounding a bit miffed.

  ‘Yes, but our tests concentrate solely on people with genetic anomalies—that the government regard as misfits. You and me, and this boy here, don’t fall into that category.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘It can’t be a coincidence that we’ve been rounded up like sheep. Here we are, a bunch of genetically similar people who’ve been brought together—but for what purpose? I didn’t make anything of it when Deighton changed the transfer selection criteria recently. I keep thinking about the early twentieth-century human trials—a Nazi dictator and his doctor, Josef Mengele—except in this century, we use volunteers. We don’t test people against their will.’

  ‘Who’s Josef Mengele?’ Robbie asked.

  ‘They nicknamed him the Angel of Death,’ Susan went on. ‘During World War II, Adolf Hitler ordered Mengele to create an Aryan master race of blonde-haired, blue-eyed people. The doctor had a serious fixation with pregnant women and twins, and brutally butchered both so he could identify the genetic code that produced twins.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, that mad psycho. He and Annie Weber would have been perfect for each other,’ Joel said, snorting. ‘I read reports that he’d practised medicine in Candido Godoi in Brazil, where there were unusually high twin birth rates. But the reports were later disproved. They reckoned that he’d actually been testing in Rio de Janeiro all along, where twin births were easier to hide and Candido Godoi was an elaborate smokescreen.’

  ‘What does some doctor who died centuries ago have to do with us?’ Robbie whined.

  ‘Are you saying we’re going to be butchered?’

  ‘Shut up for a minute, kid—the grown-ups are talking,’ Joel snapped. He turned to Susan. ‘Okay, so if they’re genetically testing us, what are they testing for? Some particular trait?’

  ‘I reckon intelligence is a key marker for them,’ Susan said. ‘We know the new treatments have limited success in those with sub intelligence. After that, I really couldn’t guess what they’re planning to do.’

  ‘The kid here is very young,’ Joel said. ‘Not that intelligent
, though’—Robbie let out a string of expletives—‘Any thoughts?’

  ‘Lack of empathy in teenagers? Maybe the differences between our adult brains and his juvenile brain are of interest to them. If it was me doing the testing, it’s one of the things I’d check for—how genetic manipulation affects brain activity in adults who have an active medial prefrontal cortex, as opposed to teenagers that don’t.’

  ‘How do you know all of this?’ Robbie narrowed his eyes.

  Susan sighed wearily. ‘Joel and I are lab technicians, working for a subsidiary group of the World Government. We administer and monitor results in humans when new genetic code is added.’

  Robbie swallowed hard. ‘So what’s likely to happen to us?’

  Susan had to admit she didn’t have an answer for that one. This was new territory for her. ‘We’ll have to wait and see,’ was all she said.

  Chapter 16

  Earth

  Inside his private Nottingham apartment, Bill Taggart connected a small signal disruption device to the Light Box hardware unit on his main wall and was suddenly reminded of the first time he’d gone to Laura’s apartment and exceeded her visitor quota. It had triggered a visit from the security officers, and if Laura hadn’t played along so well, the officers might not have bought his excuse so easily. Their kiss hadn’t been planned—but seemed to fool the officers, and him, well enough.

  She’d already filled him in on her idea to get young Callum Preston to manipulate the ESC’s sentient programme. Bill idly wondered if the boy had any experience in building devices. Ever since the creation of sentient programmes, many people had assumed their programming was simple and harmless, but the sentients’ ability to learn was extensive and quite sophisticated and they now had a range of behavioural responses that were as diverse as a human being’s. Bill made a mental note to quiz Callum about sentient manipulation.

  When the disruption device was finally in place, Bill looked up and air-punched in a code that corresponded with digits on the Light Box screen. While he waited for Laura to answer, he loosened his tie and took a few gulps of coffee from his mug.

  Her face filled the screen. ‘Hi,’ she said urgently but quietly.

  Bill frowned as he studied the space behind her. ‘Where are you?’

  Laura looked over her shoulder. ‘I’m in the cleaning closet on Level Four. One of the bloody roving cameras caught me on Level Two.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s safe?’

  ‘As safe as I’m going to get. I’ve never seen them use the closet. What scares me more is what the camera said to me: “We know what you’ve been up to. We will be watching you even closer from now on.”’—Laura imitated the camera’s tinny voice—‘That’s why I’m in here, shaking like a leaf.’

  ‘I’ve heard them say something similar to other people. You know how seriously they take their jobs,’ he said, trying to reassure her.

  Laura nodded. ‘Yeah, maybe you’re right,’ she said. ‘But even its tone of voice changed, like there was suddenly a real person speaking to me.’

  ‘Well maybe you should stay out of this.’

  ‘No!’ Laura said quickly, then added more quietly, ‘Forget what I just said. Everything’s fine. I need to do this.’

  Bill pursed his lips. ‘Just to be on the safe side, let’s keep this brief. Tell me you’ve found our pilot.’

  She hesitated and looked as if she was listening out for something. ‘I have. There was one name on the list that stood out from the rest,’ she whispered. ‘Jenny Waterson. I have her private communication code if you want to call her.’

  ‘Tell me about her first,’ Bill said. He watched Laura tap on her screen and tuck a stray lock of hair behind her right ear. Some information popped up in a neat little box in one corner of his screen.

  ‘Okay, Jenny Waterson. A pilot for twenty years,’ she read. ‘Worked for Calypso Couriers, a World Government subsidiary company. WG terminated her contract about eleven weeks ago. Strangely, her termination coincided with Stephen’s appearance.’

  Bill studied the small window of information. ‘Says here she’s a Grade Four pilot. What was the reason for her termination?’

  ‘According to records, she stole a spacecraft.’

  ‘Stole?’

  ‘Yeah. She wasn’t scheduled to depart, but she left with one passenger on board.’

  ‘Her name doesn’t ring a bell,’ Bill said, rubbing his chin. ‘So you think she’s our pilot?’

  ‘Better than the other candidates. They’ve all received some form of severance pay. Probably signed a document too. I wouldn’t bet on them giving up their severance to help us out.’

  ‘But no severance for Jenny?’

  Laura shook her head. ‘Not a penny. They’ve even gone so far as to blackball her from working with every other flight company. Her permanent record states that she struggles with authority and is likely to repeat her attempts at insubordination.’

  ‘Perfect.’

  Laura suddenly looked up wide-eyed. ‘Bill, I have to go. I’ll call you again at lunch.’

  ‘Send me her private communication code before you disconnect’—but Laura was gone. Then an electronic note appeared at the bottom of his screen; it contained the communication code.

  Twenty minutes later Bill had successfully hacked into Jenny Waterson’s Light Box. He found her sitting on the sofa with a chess board hovering in front of her. She looked a little too relaxed in her All Day Comfort leisure suit, a range of clothing made especially for the virtual reality addict market. Her apartment was messy, but she clearly preferred to spend her time exercising her brain than worrying about housework. He quietly observed her through her Light Box as she played chess with her avatar. She had unkempt brown hair and her face was smooth and pale. According to her file she was seventy-five, but looked no older than her mid fifties. The Glamour genetic package had worked well but her current hairstyle didn’t complement the rest of the work she’d had done. Bill glanced briefly at the photo on the DPad, in which she had cropped platinum hair and a smile.

  ‘Check,’ the avatar shrilled.

  Jenny slapped her hands over her ears, then studied the move.

  ‘You haven’t beaten me yet,’ she said, flicking her fingers over the virtual pieces that dangled in mid-air. The queen instantly changed position. ‘Queen takes your knight.’

  ‘This is futile, Jenny. You can’t beat me. I am a sentient programme—or have you forgotten?’

  ‘Well, why are we bothering to play then?’

  ‘Because you insisted on trying to beat me at least once. Don’t you remember?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Jenny replied, distracted. She studied the board for a moment.

  Bill zoomed in for a closer look. If the avatar tried to move the bishop to block her, she could be in trouble. Her king and queen were already behind enemy lines. She could use her queen to inflict damage on her opponent’s pieces.

  ‘I have you, and this time you’re going down,’ Jenny said, smiling confidently.

  The avatar rolled its eyes. ‘Sure. You have me right where you want me.’

  ‘I can see your next move.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Yep.’ Jenny ignored her avatar’s attempts to confuse her and kept her eyes locked on the game, waiting for the counter move.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure?’ the avatar teased.

  ‘Oh, stop stalling and just get on with it,’ Jenny replied, wearily.

  ‘If you say so.’

  The avatar moved its bishop to block her king. ‘Check.’

  ‘Ahaaa, you see, I saw that one coming!’ Jenny squealed. She moved her queen to take the bishop. ‘Check for you, too!’ The virtual piece flew off the board and disappeared. ‘Is that all you’ve got for me?’

  The avatar yawned for effect and cracked its knuckles. ‘Watch this.’ The knight took a step backwards before leapfrogging over her king to settle in a position beside it. ‘Check maaatey.’

&nbs
p; ‘That’s illegal!’ Jenny banged the table in frustration and knocked the virtual pieces to the floor.

  ‘No it’s not. Look in the rule book if you don’t believe me.’

  ‘Damn your programme to hell. I hate this game. And I hate you for being so arrogant about winning.’

  ‘I told you, you’re always going to lose when you play against a sentient programme. Want to try again?’

  ‘No,’ Jenny said sulkily, then added, ‘Something different—a card game. And do me a favour—turn off your predictability parameters. I want a fair go this time.’

  ‘As you wish, ma’am.’

  ‘Trying to press my buttons, I see,’ Jenny said, shaking her head. ‘No more playing fair.’

  An hour later, Jenny had lost her enthusiasm for cards, as well as her twentieth game in a row. Bill, slouched in his chair at home, yawned and rubbed his eyes.

  ‘That’s enough,’ Jenny finally announced.

  ‘So soon?’ the avatar asked.

  ‘I’ve got other things to do.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like clean up this apartment for one. It’s a pigsty.’

  ‘Jenny, someone is trying to connect,’ her avatar suddenly said, its tone more serious. ‘I can see a signature.’

  Bill sat bolt upright in his seat. The signal disrupter was beginning to lose its effectiveness. Jenny’s eyes narrowed as she studied the Light Box screen. She was staring straight at him. His heart pounded in his chest.

  Her expression didn’t change. ‘There’s no one there,’ she said.

  The avatar moved in for a closer look and started pointing something out to her. Panic and fear caught hold of Bill and he logged himself out of her Light Box.

  A half hour later, he connected with Jenny again, this time using the proper method. Laura listened in from her end, escaping during her lunch break to sit in the cleaning closet.