Altered Reality

by Eliza Green

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again and turned to head for the door. ‘MOUSE, please keep monitoring their vitals.’ There was a new strain in her voice.

  ‘As you wish, Doctor,’ MOUSE replied.

  ‘Felicity?’ she called out.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Are you finished with the checks?’

  ‘Yes. Everything is fine.’

  ‘We’re leaving. Now.’

  Susan caught the urgency in Caroline’s voice. She listened until she could no longer hear their footsteps. When the door sucked shut, the room fell eerily quiet again until the sound of Robbie’s sobbing filled the room.

  Caroline Finnegan nearly tripped in her hurry to get out of the holding room. Her legs almost went from under her. Once outside she leaned against the wall for support, struggling to hide her unsteadiness from her assistant. Felicity instinctively grabbed her elbow when it looked as though the doctor was about to faint.

  Caroline knew her behaviour would have seemed puzzling to the girl. Felicity was accustomed to seeing Dr Finnegan, the professional research scientist, with a cool and detached demeanour. She had never seen her boss so shaken before.

  ‘Is there a problem, Doctor?’ her assistant asked. ‘You seem … distracted.’

  Caroline forced herself to meet the young girl’s eyes and smiled. ‘I’m just a bit lightheaded. Probably need to eat something, that’s all.’

  ‘Let me get something for you,’ she offered.

  ‘No!’ Caroline said abruptly, but quickly backtracked when she saw her assistant’s expression. She knew she was acting out of character. ‘No, thank you,’ she added in a gentler tone. ‘I can get something myself. You’ve more important things to do. I need you to get back to the lab and help Julian process the results from our current batch.’ Caroline shot her a look that told her not to ask questions.

  ‘Yes, Doctor.’ Felicity nodded and left immediately.

  ‘Thank God she is gone!’ MOUSE said. ‘Awkward!’

  Caroline never quite knew where to look when speaking to the sentient programme. ‘What are you talking about, MOUSE?’ she said to the ceiling.

  ‘Well, I could tell you were experiencing some difficulty in the room a few moments ago. I could sense the adrenaline rising in your body. Felicity’s presence was obviously making it worse.’

  Caroline leaned her back against the wall and shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her lab coat. She sighed heavily. ‘Do you have a problem with Felicity, MOUSE?’

  ‘Well, nothing a personality transplant and a comb through her hair would not fix. Why do you ask?’

  ‘No reason,’ said Caroline dismissively. She was sick of MOUSE’s pettiness.

  ‘What is up with you anyway?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You are acting weird, Dr Finnegan. You cannot hide anything from me. I see and hear all.’

  Caroline decided to come clean with the sentient. ‘I know that woman in there.’

  ‘That much was obvious. Is she—was she—a friend?’

  ‘I knew her to see, that’s all.’

  ‘So, why are you so cut up about it? What is she to you?’

  ‘I’m just surprised,’ Caroline said. ‘I worked with her.’ She wondered how she would feel if she ever found herself the subject of genetic experiments and shuddered. ‘MOUSE, why are there two government employees in the next room and a kid that’s too young for this programme?’

  ‘I don’t know, Doctor. Perhaps Mr Deighton felt the DNA net needed to be cast wider.’

  ‘I received top-level assurances that the programme would be restricted to those who had previously used the manipulation clinics. That way, any tests we carried out would be masked by the earlier work and remain undetectable.’

  MOUSE finished the doctor’s sentence. ‘And if we test anyone outside of those criteria, we leave a clear trail for others to see what we have done, if they know where to look.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  The antagonists eager to expose their operation would be ecstatic if they discovered they were able to trace the experiments the government was surreptitiously conducting. Few people, if any, read the small print when they opted for the latest genetic treatments at the lab; one of the clauses stated that they could later be handpicked for new genetic trials.

  But something else was bothering her that she didn’t want to share with MOUSE: she had only agreed to the programme on the basis that she and her team would have immunity from the secret tests. Now, having discovered fellow researchers in her holding room earmarked to be her next test subjects, she couldn’t be sure of anything.

  ‘Is there something else bothering you, Doctor?’

  Caroline wished her vitals weren’t so easy for the sentient programme to read. ‘For once just drop it! You don’t have to know absolutely everything. Not everything needs to be analysed and discussed.’

  ‘I am sorry, Dr Finnegan, but I am programmed to monitor the team’s vitals. Your heart rate is pumping unusually fast. Do you need medical assistance? Should I call for someone—or help you myself?’

  ‘Damn it, MOUSE. Would you please just go away? You’re driving me mad.’

  ‘No need to be rude. I am only trying to help,’ said MOUSE, sounding offended. ‘I would have expected this attitude from Felicity, but you Doctor—you have always been so nice to me. Perhaps if I just check—’

  ‘MOUSE! Please, go back to the lab.’ Caroline desperately needed five minutes alone. ‘Go back to the lab. That’s an order.’

  ‘Fine. FINE. I am going.’

  There was a click and then silence—MOUSE had gone.

  Caroline trembled with abating anger as if she had been subjected to her own shock treatments. She tried to steady herself. She found this new change in protocol deeply unsettling. How could she be sure Deighton wouldn’t turn on her once he had the answers he needed?

  She was able to do her job most effectively when she was clinically detached from the test subjects. It was her father, also a genetic biologist, who had taught her how to survive in the ever-changing cut-throat world of genetics. She recalled the first lecture he’d ever given her.

  ‘You’ve picked a profession that goes beyond the one or the few. Always keep that in mind,’ he had said. ‘The primary goal of genetics is to improve human life, not destroy it, but in your line of work, you may be asked to do things that you’re not comfortable with. You will have to face difficult moral decisions. Figure out how to detach yourself from your subjects as you learn all you can from their physiology. Your goal is to reach the end line with as few casualties as possible. That includes yourself.’

  She had found his advice difficult to take in at the time, but the longer she worked in twenty-second-century genetics the more it made sense to her. She adopted his advice as best as she could in an effort to protect herself from the harsher realities of her work.

  This was the first time in her career that Caroline found it difficult to remain impartial. How could she when she knew what MOUSE and her team would confirm in an hour’s time? She had a sinking feeling that the perfect genetic subject they were looking for was someone she’d just been talking to in the holding room.

  She tried to regain her composure before she returned to the laboratory. When she was almost there, she cursed loudly when she heard MOUSE complaining to her team about how she had refused its help. The room fell silent when Caroline walked through the door.

  Felicity was the only one to take a step towards her. ‘How are you feeling, Dr Finnegan?’ she asked, her shoulders slouched in the usual unattractive way.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Caroline said, before adding, ‘And if everyone is finally finished gossiping maybe we can get back to doing some real work.’ Her voice had taken on a fresh edge.

  Her three assistants looked sheepishly at the floor.

  ‘I would not have mentioned the incident to them at all, Doctor, if I had not been worried about you. It is my job,’ explained MOUSE.
/>
  ‘Okay, well it’s over now. I shouldn’t have snapped. But now, I need to know the results. Have you analysed them yet?’ Caroline asked, business-like and professional again.

  ‘The woman’s genome structure is the strongest out of the three and most likely to accept the changes we are proposing to make. She is the best candidate we have,’ MOUSE said.

  Caroline felt sick. ‘What about the others that haven’t been tested yet? Is it possible that we might find a stronger pairing?’ She already knew what the answer would be but it was worth a shot.

  ‘Possibly,’ said one of her male assistants, ‘but we don’t have time to check, Dr Finnegan. We’re on a tight deadline. It could be months before we find another person that fits all the criteria.’

  ‘We are ready to move now,’ MOUSE insisted. ‘Why not this one? Is it because you know her?’

  The others looked at Caroline with curiosity and she felt her heart pound in her chest. Silently she cursed the sentient programme a second time.

  ‘You’re right, MOUSE,’ she said slowly. ‘She is the best, but I want you to test the younger male too. Let’s get going. If the tests are successful, then Felicity—could you contact Mr Deighton immediately. He’ll want to be here for the results.’

  ‘Two test subjects?’ MOUSE said. ‘Are you sure that is necessary? The female is the strongest genetic match.’

  ‘Yes, two,’ Caroline said firmly. ‘I want Deighton to have choices. Don’t argue.’

  Felicity shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other and ruffled her untidy hair with her hand.

  ‘Is there a problem, Felicity?’ Caroline asked.

  ‘I … shouldn’t someone more senior be contacting Mr Deighton? I mean, I can if you want me to, but I thought I should ask.’

  ‘No, you can do it.’

  ‘It’s just that—’

  ‘What is it, Felicity?’

  ‘I … I’m afraid of him. He gives me the creeps. I don’t like the way he looks at me.’

  Deighton gave everyone the creeps, even Caroline. She disliked him even more since she’d witnessed him order his driver to push a woman and her baby off the road with his car.

  ‘Don’t argue with me please. Just do it.’

  Felicity nodded meekly.

  The Galway team was cautiously optimistic as they contemplated what the results of the latest tests might mean. They had sacrificed so much—families, social lives, their mental health—to live underground in isolation from the rest of the world in order to do this work. A wave of excitement went through the group as they realised how close they were to attaining their goal. MOUSE cheered loudly as the assistants cautiously high-fived each other.

  Caroline struggled to share their enthusiasm. For so long, she’d looked forward to cracking the code for which Deighton had been searching. She should have been happy, but all she felt was a tightness spreading across her chest. She balled a fist and kneaded the area where the pain was worst.

  Once they developed the new prototype, there would be no going back. Caroline hoped she could live with the consequences of what they were about to do.

  Chapter 19

  The morning after Bill Taggart had called Jenny Waterson to ask for her help, she called him back, inviting him to dinner—in Brisbane.

  ‘I’m sorry, Captain, that’s not an option,’ Bill said. ‘It’s too dangerous for me to travel.’

  ‘If you’re expecting me to partake in illegal activity without having met you, you can forget it.’

  ‘Shit!’

  There was a long moment’s silence

  ‘Should I set another place this evening?’ Jenny asked.

  Bill reached Jenny’s apartment block at 7pm. Wary of security cameras, he was wearing a huge black overcoat, and a hat and scarf that between them covered most of his face. As an extra precaution, he’d brought a severed finger in a small box—something he’d picked up on the black market—and used it to gain entry to the building. When he arrived at Jenny’s door, she was waiting for him. The leisure suit was gone and in its place were jeans and a floral print blouse. Bill smiled when he saw her.

  ‘What?’ she said with a slight edge.

  ‘I see you’ve changed your hair back.’

  Jenny ran a hand over her dyed platinum buzz cut. ‘Seemed appropriate.’

  They shook hands.

  ‘I guess we can dispense with the pleasantries on the other side of the door.’ She ushered him in. ‘By the way, who’s Carl Benton?’ she asked as she pushed the door closed behind him.

  Bill frowned.

  ‘The name you registered under at the door.’

  ‘Oh, that,’ he said, smiling. He pulled the little box out of his pocket and showed Jenny the finger. ‘Just an alias. This way, they know what city I’m in but not who I’m meeting.’

  She winced. ‘Well, don’t stand on ceremony. Come on in. Take a seat. Can I get you something to drink?’

  ‘Beer, if you have it,’ said Bill.

  As he sat down his eyes wandered around the apartment. It was a different place to the one he’d seen the day before on the Light Box: gone was the clutter and mess. She’d been busy since they’d spoken. He removed a sound disrupter from his pocket and was attaching it to her Light Box’s hardware when Jenny returned with his bottle of beer.

  ‘Is that thing legal?’ she asked. ‘No—don’t tell me. Steak okay?’

  ‘No need to go to any trouble on my account,’ said Bill taking a gulp from the opened bottle.

  ‘I’m not. It’s replicated.’

  Bill followed her into the kitchen. Cupboard doors were ajar, items pulled out and left on the counter and cleaning products were lined up neatly on the floor. In Jenny’s efforts to clean up, the kitchen looked like a bomb had hit it. He put his beer down on the only clear space he could find on the countertop. ‘I’m taking a big risk being here.’

  Jenny turned round to face him. ‘And I’m taking an even bigger risk by considering your proposal and allowing you to use strange equipment in my apartment.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Bill said, taking another swig from the bottle.

  She gestured towards the replicator. ‘Help yourself.’

  Bill replicated another beer, this time a light one. He cracked off the cap and took a gulp.

  ‘Perhaps you could take some cutlery and plates out to the table in the other room,’ Jenny suggested, pointing first at a drawer and then at an unopened cupboard. ‘I’ll just order the food now.’

  Bill did as he was told, then waited in the living room with his beer. A few minutes later, Jenny appeared with their meals. They ate their replicated steak, hash browns and gravy without much enjoyment—replicated meat wasn’t very appetising.

  ‘What part of Scotland are you from?’ Jenny asked, picking her way through her food.

  ‘Edinburgh.’

  Jenny nodded. ‘My friend Stuart is Scottish too. Has a bit of a temper.’

  Bill smiled and shoved a piece of steak into his mouth. ‘You want to know if I have one too?’

  ‘I like to know the people I work for. I like to know what to expect.’

  He chewed quickly then swallowed. ‘Contrary to popular belief, not all Scotsmen are looking for a fight, but I will if it’s for the right reason.’

  ‘Is that why you need me—because you’ve a score to settle?’ Jenny asked, watching him carefully.

  Bill put down his fork. ‘On this occasion I’m just doing the right thing.’

  They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Jenny said, ‘I need you to go over everything you told me yesterday. I have some questions.’

  Bill patiently recounted the sequence of events that led him and Laura to seek her help. ‘So we need you to sneak us on to a passenger ship bound for Exilon 5 so we can warn the Indigenes about our government’s plans for them,’ he said finally.

  Jenny sat staring at Bill for a few seconds. ‘How much does the job pay?’ she asked.

  The question
took him aback; he hadn’t given it any thought. ‘We can’t offer you anything right now,’ he said.

  ‘Then I’m afraid we’ve a problem. I’m unemployed. I need to pay my bills. It costs me money to fly my personal craft.’

  Bill nodded. He knew she was right; he’d been a fool to assume she’d do it for nothing. Perhaps they could compromise. ‘Surely we could work something out,’ he said. ‘I’ve some savings. I could give you something immediately, and then make more payments in instalments.’

  Jenny mulled this over. ‘If you cover the cost of the flight, I can manage until we get back,’ she said eventually. ‘When do you need to leave?’

  ‘I’ve a few things to put in place first, but hopefully within the next week.’

  ‘Does the offer extend to me travelling with you and Laura?’

  Bill shook his head. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘And why not?’ Jenny folded her arms.

  ‘Look, the job is to enter our names on the manifest and take us to the passenger ship, nothing more. I don’t want to risk WG finding out about you.’

  Jenny unfolded her arms and an odd look crossed her face.

  ‘Why would you want to come anyway?’ Bill asked, curious.

  ‘Forget I mentioned it. If I do this for you, there’s something I must insist on.’

  ‘What’s that,’ Bill asked.

  ‘No lies. You tell me the truth. Always. It’s important to me.’ Jenny looked him straight in the face.

  Bill frowned.

  ‘Do you know what happened after Calypso Couriers fired me?’ she asked, and without waiting for a response she went on. ‘The World Government took away my nice two-bedroom apartment and dumped me into this bog standard one-bed. Then they spread lies about me so I’d have no chance of getting work in the future. I called into a courier company a few months back looking for contract work. The receptionist left the desk to cross-check my information and there it was on her DPad: my name at the top of a list of “Do not hires”. Meanwhile she came back and told me there was no work going for pilots without their own spacecraft. When I reminded her that I had my own craft, she said it didn’t change anything. There was still no work for me.’ Jenny’s expression hardened. ‘I’ve had enough lies to last me a lifetime.’