The Reality Thief (Deplosion Book 1)

by Paul Anlee

  “It would be hard to get much lower than I am right now.”

  “If you don’t think it would be too risky, it could be helpful to have someone with a superior moral compass and a solid foundation in Our Savior, Yeshua, to monitor their activities.”

  “I can do that,” Larry said. “But I’m not a member of your Church.”

  LaMontagne smiled. “Never mind that. His spirit is strong within you, whether you know it or not.”

  Larry extended his palm that the dendy pill toward the Reverend. “What should I do with this?”

  The Reverend took the pill from his hand. “Leave it with me. I'll have it safely destroyed.”

  Larry’s immediate response was panic. He'd been struggling for weeks over whether he should accept Darian’s priceless gift. To have that choice taken from him so casually, only heightened his uncertainty. He searched the Reverend's face and found confidence, clearly written, along with something else he couldn’t decode, perhaps a bit of eagerness. It’s going to be okay. The Reverend is so much better equipped to deal with dilemmas like this than I am. Having come to terms with his decision, Larry let the sense of relief wash over him.

  “Please make sure you treat it like medical waste and have it incinerated. It’s too dangerous to flush down the toilet.”

  “Never you fear.” The Reverend laid his hand on the scientist’s shoulder and intoned, “Bless this man, this warrior, My Lord. Bless his sacrifice and give strength to his resolve. May he achieve an even deeper love for You through his service.”

  LaMontagne stood, leaned forward, and kissed Larry on the top of his head, a blessing that was oddly comforting to the scientist. He pulled a business card from his jacket pocket. “I have to go now, but here’s my private contact information. I will always be available for you. Don't hesitate to call me anytime, day or night. You are a brave man, Dr. Rusalov. Rejoice and do not fear, for God has smiled upon the sacrifice you make in His name.”

  The Reverend grasped Larry’s right hand in both of his own, shaking it with deep respect. “Do you know Dr. Lucius Pratt?”

  “In the Philosophy Department? A little. I met him when Darian first arrived at the university. We were invited to join them at the welcome lunch. Darian's postdocs, that is. Why?”

  LaMontagne pursed his lips. “Dr. Pratt is friendly to our cause, as you might have surmised.” Larry smiled and nodded, recalling the debate between Pratt and Darian over lunch that day. How could I forget? That was the most painful free lunch I’ve ever experienced, trapped there between the two of them while they sparred, and no polite way to duck out.

  The Reverend continued, “If you'd like, I could ask him to check in with you from time to time.” He held up his hand to quell any objection to being supervised that might be forming on Larry’s lips. “Don’t worry. He won’t be watching you. He’ll just provide a sympathetic ear when you need one. You can use him as a sounding board—but only if you want.”

  Larry cast his gaze at the floor. “As long as he’s there as my friend and not as your spy.”

  “No, nothing like that. You are undertaking a journey on our behalf at considerable personal risk, and I just want to make sure you have ongoing support close at hand. You will never need to face this alone.”

  Larry nodded his acquiescence. “Okay, I’ll speak with him.”

  LaMontagne smiled, more with his eyes than his mouth, and signaled his security people. The four of them continued lockstep down the stairs and out of the hall, leaving a bewildered young scientist watching them as they left. What did I just get into?—Larry wondered.

  Passing the abandoned refreshment table in the foyer, Reverend LaMontagne helped himself to a bottle of juice and opened the cap with a satisfying “snap”. As they entered the lobby, he sent his retinue outdoors to scout the main entrance for any possible threats. With his team occupied and no one in the nearly empty lobby paying him any attention, he popped the dendy pill into his mouth and took a swig of juice to wash it down.

  He beamed in appreciation of his incredibly good fortune, and in anticipation of the tremendous advantage that he had just been given on behalf of his church. Thank you, Lord, for steering events to this time and place, and for this glorious opportunity to enhance my capabilities in service to Thee. He continued to the exit where his car waited.

  33

  NCSA recording of a conversation between Dr. Lucius Pratt (Simon Fraser University, Burnaby, BC, Pacifica) and Reverend Alan LaMontagne (Austin, Tx, New Confederacy) November 14, 2037.

  Pratt: Hello?

  LaMontagne: Dr. Pratt, this is Alan LaMontagne.

  Pratt: Reverend LaMontagne! Please tell me we were not in any way involved in what just happened.

  LaMontagne: Dr. Pratt, you are aware this conversation is automatically being recorded, right?

  Pratt: Yes. Yes, of…of course. I’m just in shock.

  LaMontagne: Understandable. But you can rest assured that the Church had no involvement with the shooter. He acted alone for whatever personal reasons he might have had. His actions are between him and God, now.

  Pratt: Thank you. That is good to hear. Have you heard how Dr. Leigh is doing?

  LaMontagne: We do not have any news yet. It’s no secret that we would view it as the Justice of Yeshua should his prognosis turn unfavorable. It is unfortunate, nevertheless, that one so young and so bright should be called to account for his actions before the Lord.

  Pratt: It is sometimes shocking to see how swift and terrible His Justice is [sighs]. But Darian did bring this injury on himself. He has never made any effort to temper his impetuous research or its implications.

  LaMontagne: No, he hasn’t, has he? Which brings me to the reason for my call.

  Pratt: Oh?

  LaMontagne: It seems that Dr. Leigh has been engaging in some very questionable human research in his spare time.

  Pratt: What do you mean?

  LaMontagne: You are aware of his involvement with the dendy research at Neuro Nano Devices, the company his mother founded?

  Pratt: Yes, everyone’s aware of his research.

  LaMontagne: Actually, there are several lines of that research that very few are acquainted with. But that's not important right now. Did you know that dendy lattices can be grown from engineered RNA introduced into one’s system using a viral transmission vector? It would appear that Dr. Leigh has managed to procure or manufacture a vector quite similar to the one responsible for his special lattice.

  Pratt: That is surprising. I would have thought that would be illegal.

  LaMontagne: It certainly is. Intelligence-enhancing lattices are strictly forbidden. Neuro Nano assured the FDA that all copies of that particular vector were destroyed, and that there isn't a single synthesis company that can legally recreate it. Nonetheless, Dr. Leigh has shared with his three lab assistants that he has that virus. Furthermore, he offered it to them.

  Pratt: What? That’s outrageous! He can’t do that.

  LaMontagne: Legally, Dr. Leigh can’t force them to take the pill. Simply being in possession of it is strictly against the FDA ruling. Unfortunately, the punishment for obtaining, offering or using banned medicinal substances has been weakened since the dismemberment of the former United States of America, particularly in Pacifica. He would face no more than a small fine. But the real news is that two of his team members have already ingested the vector; only one resisted the temptation.

  Pratt: Oh, my goodness. Do you mean to say there are now three humans with enhanced intelligences at the University? As if one wasn’t trouble enough.

  LaMontagne: I presume it will take some amount of time before any significant behavioral differences are observable. But you are quite right. One such person in the entire world is a blasphemy to the Lord. Three is an abomination.

  Pratt: I should report this to campus authorities.

  LaMontagne: I'm not sure that's the best course of action. The university has been quite thrilled to have a single enhanced-inte
lligence Professor. Imagine their glee at discovering they have three.

  Pratt: So what can we do?

  LaMontagne: Well, as luck would have it, I just finished having a very interesting conversation with the only member of Dr. Leigh’s team to refuse the pill.

  Pratt: Who was that?

  LaMontagne: Dr. Larry Rusalov. I've just spoken with him and he has been touched by the Divine Light. Despite a life dedicated to the perversities of science, he has not turned away from Our Lord. He believes deeply that there is something fundamentally wrong with Dr. Leigh’s theories, and he has faith in the Creator.

  Pratt: That’s remarkable.

  LaMontagne: Indeed. Furthermore, he has agreed to keep us apprised of the activities and progress of Dr. Leigh and his team.

  Pratt: Reverend LaMontagne, I’m surprised that we can condone such action.

  LaMontagne: His choices were his own. He also handed over the poison pill to me to destroy. Of course, I made sure right away that the pill met its proper end.

  Pratt: Yes, of course.

  LaMontagne: It would be helpful if you could meet with Dr. Rusalov every few weeks. Relay what the group is up to, and help him continue to hold to the Truth.

  Pratt: I will reach out to him right away.

  LaMontagne: The way of intellectualism has long been known for its temptations. His journey will be a difficult one, fraught with the peril of being blinded to the Truth by scientific theories.

  Pratt: Yes, too much wrong thinking can make it difficult to see the Light of Our Lord.

  LaMontagne: Fortunately, Dr. Rusalov has come to us in time. We can help him stay the course.

  Pratt: Very well. I’ll arrange to meet with him.

  LaMontagne: Might I suggest you make every effort to keep your relationship discreet? I don’t believe his colleagues would look favorably upon his discussions with you.

  Pratt: Agreed. I will invite him somewhere quiet, off-campus.

  LaMontagne: Thank you. I think that would be best. Please keep me apprised of your discussions.

  34

  LUXURIANT, VERDANT LIFE OVERWHELMED THEIR SENSES. Darak and Brother Stralasi settled gently on the gravel pathway and their protective sphere dissolved. Lush ferns, flowers, and tall grasses swayed welcomingly. Branches from the tall trees lining the trail stretched over their bare heads to shade them from the bright light above. The sound of trickling water from a small cascade feeding into a nearby stream caught their ears. Stralasi marveled at the fields of corn, wheat, and vegetables curving slightly upward. Wait a minute. Upward?

  Stralasi's eyes followed the evenly tilled rows as they receded up and away, into the sky. A little disoriented, he looked for landmarks by which to situate himself. Once he figured out the lay of the land, he was no less disoriented.

  They appeared to be standing at the bottom of an impossibly large cylinder of green and blue encircling a glowing tube of light. A soft breeze cooled his face and moved across the crops in waves.

  On the opposite side of the cylinder, past the dazzling light, he could make out a body of water. About midway up, he spied what looked like a herd of cattle grazing on tender shoots near the stream. Midway up. Massive cables, about a hand’s width in diameter, periodically stretched "upward" from the ground to anchor points along the central light tube. Phenomenal! He clapped his hands together in marvel and thankful prayer. There was more life visible in this tube than he had seen in any one place for ages.

  Darak stopped for a moment, as well, to take it all in. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

  “Where are we?”

  “This is the local Integration Lab.”

  “Where? I don’t see any lab.” Stralasi was familiar with clean rooms and stainless steel work surfaces where technicians tested food quality.

  Darak laughed and waved his hand, indicating the flourishing life around them. “This! The entire hollowed out asteroid. It’s all one giant laboratory for examining how well various genetic modifications work before the organisms are shipped to the planet’s surface.”

  Stralasi looked perplexed. “I don’t understand.”

  “I imagine this must be a lot for you to take in. Listen, we’re walking on the inner surface of a completely hollowed-out asteroid, which is spinning in order to provide a semblance of gravity to the garden inside. This side of the garden is completely Standard Life.”

  He waved to indicate the opposite arc of the chamber. “The far side is a replica of life that existed on Gargus 718.5 before Alumston was founded. Between here and there is a gradient, a mixture of the two life forms. The purpose of this entire structure is to test the modifications they make to plants and animals, and help them to best adapt to the environment on the planet.”

  “What do you mean, modifications?”

  “Well, Gargus 718.5’s native life is quite different from Standard Life, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, completely.”

  “A Standard Life animal would not fare very well there. It wouldn’t be able to eat local vegetation or hunt what few small native animals remain. Standard plants would be ill-equipped to deal with the unfamiliar mixture of elements. So they have altered the genes—what you might think of as the life force—of various Standard Life organisms, in the lab facilities on this asteroid in order to outcompete the native Gargus 718.5 life in its own environment.”

  “Who is this ‘they’ you keep talking about?” Stralasi asked, annoyed.

  “The Cybrids. They are quite skilled at many things besides fixing other machinery.”

  “Why would Alum have provided such a beautiful place for Cybrids of the Da’ark, when his own people struggle to expand His Realm on the surface of so many inhospitable planets?”

  Darak sighed wistfully, as he took in the view. “That’s a very good question. When we first left Origin, we lived for generations in habitats just like this one and like the Machine Shop asteroid that we just came from. Living inside asteroids seems to have fallen out of favor among humans more recently.”

  “What do you mean, ‘When we first left Origin’? Were you there? Do you claim to be immortal like Our Lord?”

  “No. Nothing like immortal,” replied Darak. “I mean, the collective ‘we.’ When we humans, The People, left Origin, we shared these hollowed-out habitats in the Origin solar system with the Cybrids for a time. Eventually, we found other planets to inhabit. Humans colonized them, while the Cybrids stayed in the asteroids to tend the gardens, make things, and fix things. Eventually, people simply forgot there ever was a time when they shared space with the Cybrids. And now, it would seem, you’ve forgotten about them being anything but an enemy.”

  “The People and the Cybrids lived together at one time?” Stralasi was incredulous.

  “Yes. Over time, they came to be segregated by their different preferred environments. Humans require light, air, water, and food. Cybrids were better suited to exploring and exploiting other asteroids in the vacuum of space, without the inconvenience of gravity to impair their graceful cruising or oxygen to corrode their mechanisms.

  “Both groups enjoyed garden asteroids like this one when it came time to rest. It might surprise you to know that even Cybrids appreciate a park like this.”

  “But they’re just machines,” protested Stralasi.

  “They’re much more human than you think.”

  Stralasi looked doubtful. “They don’t look very human.”

  “Not externally, no,” replied Darak. “But their brains are based on the structure of the human brain. Their thoughts are very human, and they think of themselves as thoroughly human.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “We’ll visit their ‘inworld’ in a while; you may change your mind.” Brother Stralasi frowned. I doubt that very much—he muttered under his breath.

  The men passed from the covered path into dazzling artificial daylight. The Good Brother's head was still swimming from Darak’s lecture on Alum’s economic system. And now, this claim
that Cybrids and The People were on equal footing in the eyes of the Lord? He rubbed his eyes wearily, trying his best to unlearn a lifetime of prejudices and falsehoods.

  He lowered his hands. A Cybrid was standing no more than a few meters away. The machine appeared to be playing in the dirt. Its tentacles flew. First, creating a half dozen little furrows, pouring a little liquid into each track, poking small seedlings into the soil, and covering their roots with more soil and a firm pat. Its other tentacles extended the furrows ahead of the Cybrid’s hovering body.

  Stralasi turned to Darak and whispered, “Doesn’t it see us? Why hasn’t it challenged our presence?”

  Darak laughed. “For a master of meditation, you aren’t very relaxed, are you? There’s no need to worry, or to whisper. The Cybrid’s visual, auditory, and electromagnetic sensors all detect us. I have interfered with its internal processing and instructed it not to pay any attention to us. It sees us but will ignore us. We’re perfectly safe.” Something caught his attention at the far side of the field. “Ah, there’s what I was looking for. Come with me; let’s take a closer look at the heart of the operation.”

  They made their way across a field of manicured grass and stopped at the entrance of a small but busy structure. They waited for the next Cybrid to pass through the archway and fell in behind it. Darak practically bounded down the ramp and into the brightly lit corridor. Stralasi followed cautiously, reluctant to leave the luxuriant growth of the garden behind. To the monk's dismay, they were soon completely underground. He didn’t have long to sulk, though.

  Off the main corridor, a group of softly lit caverns nestled many more tidily potted seedlings. Some of the rooms were separated from the corridor by glass doors through which Stralasi spotted colorful birds and a host of animals ranging from small herbivores to large feline predators, all roaming freely.

  As they made their way along the corridor, Darak occasionally entered a habitat to caress the shoots and leaves, or tapped on glass doors to attract the attention of animals inside. For the most part, the animals were content in their activities and took no notice of the two men passing by.