Tales of the Symbiont Safety Patrol (SYMBIOSIS)

by Samuel King

Still, her face remained blank.

  "At nineteen, your whole life is ahead of ya, Sweetheart. You can do anything, ya know. It's a new world."

  Finally, comprehension. She gulped and trembled for just an instant. "Ohhh… Yes, yes, I know. I just wanted to thank you again. I probably won't be back. I've got so much to do."

  He wilted but resisted the urge to embrace her. "Well, I hope you stay in touch." He couldn't stop his voice from breaking. "Let me know how you're doin'."

  "I'll try. Like I said, I'm going to be very busy." She hesitated and smiled—a very sad smile. "With my new life."

  "You're gonna do just fine, dear."

  "I know." She extended her hand. "Thank-you again, Mr. Doh… Jimmy."

  He accepted her hand, biting his lip. Almost over.

  She took a hesitant step towards the door, started to take another, but stopped in mid stride. "Could things have been different?" she asked over her shoulder.

  "Different?"

  "If I hadn't been a—"

  "Oh, Christ no, kid!" he exclaimed. He took hold of her arm and spun her around. "As God is m'judge, I swear it ain't nothin' like that." He embraced her for nearly a minute, stroking her recently cut hair. "I'm gettin' married in a month," he said, finally.

  "Really?"

  "I wouldn't lie to ya, darlin'."

  After extricating herself from his embrace, she smiled, suddenly looking far older than her nineteen years. "I'm so happy for you, Jimmy."

  "You'll see. You'll find someone, too."

  She nodded, looked at him one last time then walked briskly from the room.

  He waited for several minutes before checking the control room, not trusting himself to budge until he was sure she had left the house. Finding only the attendant there, he breathed a sigh of relief, only to have it aborted by guilt and… to his dismay, pain. He shook it off and headed for the stairway and the first floor, back to the material world and away from the "troubles".

  In the hallway he passed a forlorn looking young man standing in the door of the temporary shelter, his face full of questions. Hopefully, Joel would have his answers—perhaps Helen. He most certainly did not. All he did have was the next operation and Kate, and for that, he considered himself blessed.

  + + + END + + +

  5. Growing Pains

  Cassie Roberts glanced at the wall clock twirling a cluster of thick brown hair with her finger. Late again. Of course the professor was always late, which explained why the steering committee meetings of the New England Emancipation Society never started on time. As usual, she was the only one bothered by the delay; Joanne and Peter Mason, the other punctual members, couldn't have cared less. In fact, they were forever chiding her for being impatient.

  Impatient? As a construction project manager, punctuality was important, and she failed to see why her insistence on it was viewed negatively. Unfortunately, she had lived with the injustice her entire life. Only Grandmother Cassie, for whom she was named, understood, being an "impatient" woman in her own right. She had laughingly blamed it on her own Grandmother Cassie. A scientist, she was said to have been a stickler for both punctuality and precision. Just blame it all on Great, Great Grandmother Cassie.

  "Alright," she complained. "It's ten after. Can't we get started?"

  "Have patience, Cassandra, have patience," Joanne replied in a patrician manner that was the essence of disdain. Born of old Boston money, she was tall and stately and never left any doubt as to her station in life—but always with manners perfected over generations.

  "Always in such a hurry," Joanne's husband, Peter, chuckled. Less tall and less stately, his Boston "blue blood" lineage was all that remained of a once powerful family. He had married well.

  "Time is money," she replied. "I've got a busy schedule."

  They smiled and nodded tolerantly, somehow managing to convey their absolute intolerance of the work-a-day young woman. Her election to the committee, by an organization consisting largely of academics and their wealthy admirers, had obviously upset them, but it came as no surprise to Cassie. She had something most of the organization's members lacked –but appreciated: a burning passion for their raison d'etre. Much of that passion could be traced to Rebecca, an artificial and also her best friend—a best friend who needed help.

  The room's holo system hummed, breaking the silence. "Attention," it announced. "Remote link established." Several seconds later, "Transport in progress." The system continued to hum for several seconds, until Dr. John Weston, professor of history, stood before them.

  "Good evening, all."

  Finally.

  She conveyed her greetings after Joanne and Peter and received the customary cool reception in return. Don't kid yourself, brother. You go to work everyday, just like me. You're just older—much older.

  At thirty-two, she was the youngest member of both the steering committee and the organization as a whole. At sixty-eight, Dr. John Weston, the late arrival, was the eldest. Wearing a polite smile, Cassie nodded as the professor eased into the chair reserved for him.

  Joanne convened the meeting, and for the next forty minutes they discussed the ‘old business' of the committee: ongoing contacts with like-minded groups, fund raisers and legislative activity. Cassie endured the mind-numbing chatter, trying to gather her wits as she waited for Joanne's call for ‘new business'. The other members of the committee were sure to push back when she introduced her topic—and push back hard. Still, she owed it to Rebecca to at least try.

  "New business?" Joanne asked at last.

  Her husband, Peter, cleared his throat. "This Phantom thing is getting out of hand," he said. "It seems they're in the news every other week."

  "Misguided fools," the professor muttered. Joanne's disapproving look echoed his sentiments.

  "People are starting to associate them with the legitimate emancipation movement, and it's hurting us," Peter continued.

  "Well, they don't hurt anybody," Cassie offered.

  "Not yet," Joanne replied. "But they're breaking into people's homes and businesses. How long will it be before they do hurt someone?"

  "When they do, it'll set us back years. Just like John Brown," the professor said.

  Cassie chuckled. "John Brown? Isn't that a bit of a stretch, John?"

  "Absolutely not. He irreparably hurt the abolitionist movement. Many people, those undecided or on the fence about the slavery issue turned away from it after Brown's violence. It also hardened the resolve of southerners, convincing them that abolitionists in particular and many northerners in general were prepared to use violence against them. He was a fanatic who only managed to get a lot of people killed."

  "I don't know if John Brown was right or not, and frankly, I don't care," Cassie said. "It's unfair to compare him to the Phantom, that's all. He's saving symbionts, and he hasn't hurt any humans in the process. That's all I know."

  Joanne intervened. "Perhaps, John, your analogy, whatever its merits, is a bit incendiary. We can disagree with this Phantom, disavow his actions, without likening him to a nineteenth century lunatic."

  "Maybe he was just ahead of his time," Cassie mused.

  "And maybe he made the Civil War and over six hundred thousand deaths inevitable," the professor replied, angrily.

  "Alright, alright," Peter said. "Let's all calm down. My only intent here was to suggest we bring a resolution condemning the Phantom to the organization at-large, and if it's approved, to issue a public statement."

  "Why don't we vote on it and get past this rancor," Joanne said, smiling.

  Cassie sighed. "Why bother? I'll stipulate the vote is three-one, in favor."

  "Very well, Cassandra. The motion is carried. I'm assigning Peter to draft the resolution. Any objections?" When no one spoke, Joanne said, "Then Peter will draft the resolution and submit it at the next meeting. Any other new business?"

  Furious with herself for getting involved in the Phantom debate, Cassie turned to the professor. "Yes, but first of all I'
d like to apologize, John. I'm afraid I was over zealous in debating your point."

  With a condescending smile just shy of a sneer, the professor replied, "That's quite alright, Cassandra. Passion is one of the blessings of youth and one of its curses. Because my owner wanted a colleague, I was denied those blessings and spared those curses, but I certainly appreciate your advocacy on behalf of my people."

  There's my opening! "And that's exactly why I hoped you would be particularly interested in my friend Rebecca's problem."

  "Well, I—"

  "Rebecca has a problem?" Joanne asked.

  "Yes, her owner died two weeks ago."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. He was a good man and a friend to this organization," Joanne said.

  "Unfortunately, his wife doesn't share his views about symbionts. She's planning to give the holo system, including Rebecca, to her brother who has absolutely no regard for them whatsoever. Rebecca's terrified."

  "Good lord," Peter sighed. "That's unfortunate."

  "Unfortunate?" Realizing her voice had risen, Cassie said, "I'm sorry if I seem a little… excited. But my best friend thinks she's in real trouble. She's met this guy, and despite his brother-in-law's philosophy, he's never accorded her even the slightest recognition of being a sentient being."

  "Well, why does he want her?" the professor asked.

  "I don't know that he does. The wife just wants to get rid of the system. I've asked her to give or sell Rebecca to me, but she won't. She wants her brother to have everything. To tell you the truth, I think she resents Rebecca."

  "Oh, for God's sake," Peter muttered, shaking his head. "What's wrong with the woman?"

  Joanne said, "Well, I'm terribly sorry to hear about Rebecca's trouble, Cassandra. I hope things work out for the best."

  Cassie gripped the arms of her chair. "I was hoping for a little more than your best wishes."

  Joanne stiffened. "Such as?"

  "I don't know, but something. We're on the steering committee of the largest emancipation group in the northeast. We've got contacts all over the country. If we can't help a symbiont in need then who can?"

  "Be reasonable," Peter said. "You know we never intervene on behalf of individuals. If we did, that's all we'd ever do. There'd be no time for legal or legislative activities—to say nothing of public relations."

  "We make that perfectly clear to all new members," Joanne huffed. "There are other groups that handle individual cases."

  "Don't you think I've been to them?" Cassie asked. "They've tried, but the wife won't budge. She's determined to give the system, the whole system, as she says, to her brother. Period. And no amount of cajoling from some very persuasive people has changed her mind."

  "Then what are we supposed to do?" the professor asked.

  "Whatever we can," Cassie replied. "We're a large, influential organization. There must be some kind of pressure we can bring to bear."

  Joanne stroked her chin, staring at Cassandra for several seconds. "I know how you feel, dear," she began. "But we decided a long time ago to approach the subject of emancipation in a certain way, and I think that way has paid enormous dividends. We have good friends at all levels of government, friends we'll lose if we start advocating for individuals."

  "I bet you wouldn't feel that way if John was in trouble," Cassie snapped.

  "That's not fair," Peter said.

  "Well, it's true isn't it?"

  "No," the professor replied. "It's not true. I wouldn't want this organization to violate its principles on my behalf."

  "That's easy for you to say now, John, sitting in that easy chair. I wonder if you'd feel the same if your life was in danger."

  "Enough!" Joanne shouted, glaring at Cassie. Afterward, she seemed to regret the outburst and struggled visibly to calm herself. The room fell silent. After ten seconds that seemed more like a minute, she said, "You should apologize to John, Cassandra. That remark was uncalled for and has no place in this committee."

  "Apologize? For telling the truth?"

  "Apologize for insulting a colleague… And it's not the truth. No matter how much you wish it were otherwise, we simply don't have the ability to affect individual cases. What would you have us do? Get one of our friends in congress to lean on this woman? Do you really think that would happen?" When Cassie failed to respond, Joanne demanded, "Well do you?"

  "No, I guess not," Cassie said softly. "I was just desperate."

  It seemed Joanne was right. Despite its powerful friends and allies, the NEES was particularly unsuited to intervene in individual cases. That being the case, there was nothing left to be done through legitimate means, which left her with very little choice.

  "I'm sorry, John. That remark was unfair," she said.

  The professor acknowledged her apology with a nod, and when the meeting resumed, he had new business of his own. The troublesome question of the Phantom was set aside, and a sense of cordial decorum returned to the proceedings. Rebecca and her problem were consigned to the sad but growing list of such problems they all hoped to solve one day through legal means, playing by the "rules".

  Cassie remained silent. She marveled at how fortuitous the debate about the Phantom had actually been, and as her fellow committee members droned on, "he" and others like him loomed large in her thoughts… people who didn't play by the rules. She'd known such people once, and if the "rules" were so capricious as to place Rebecca at the mercy of her owner's brother-in-law, perhaps it was time to reach out to them.

  ****

  In some respects Joey hadn't changed much since high school. His choice of clothing, his hairstyle, his general demeanor—all that of an up and coming hipster. Problem was, at thirty-three, Joey was "up and coming" no longer, and the affectations that had set him apart fifteen years earlier were but sad reminders of a teen's misbegotten aspirations. As he leaned idly against a building in one of Boston's seamier neighborhoods, even his boyish good looks had deserted him.

  "Hey, hey… Look who's slummin' it," he said as Cassie approached him.

  "Long time, Joey," she answered, planting a kiss on his cheek.

  "Tell me about it, babe. It seems like forever since you dumped me."

  "Dumped you? That's not the way I remember it," Cassie protested. "You're the one who had better things to do than finish our senior year."

  "Yeah, and you should have come along for the ride, Cass. We would have been beautiful together."

  She shook her head, laughing. "That was never going to happen, Joey, and you know it. You should have come along on my ride. College was okay, but you would have made it a lot better."

  "College… Talk about things that were never gonna happen."

  "Star crossed."

  "I guess." He studied her for several seconds before asking, "So, what have you been up to?"

  She shrugged and told him about her career, asking the same of him, and for several minutes they ambled along the crowded street, talking like the old friends they had once been. After stopping at a local market, they bought coffee and continued to chat, but before long, their disparate paths brought them to opposite sides of a vast chasm, and the conversation petered out. They simply had too little in common to sustain it.

  After an awkward silence, he asked, "Well, what brings you down this way, Cassie… besides a trip down memory lane, that is."

  "The Phantom."

  "Who?"

  "You know, the artificial who's making all the trouble."

  He laughed. "That's just a bunch of hype. You know how the press gets a hold of something and makes a big deal about it… A couple of guys get together and boost some one's holo system, and poof! Before you know it, you've got a phantom."

  "I don't think so," Cassie countered. "This guy is doing some very specific things, big things."

  "Yeah? Then what do you want him for?"

  "I've got a friend who's in trouble," she answered.

  "What kind of trouble?"

  She explained Rebecca's situation
to him, but afterward he seemed little moved. "Gee, that's a shame, Cass, really," he said. "But why do you think this guy is gonna help you?"

  "I know people, Joey, important people, and I can give him things he can't get anywhere else, things that will make him bigger than ever."

  He seemed lost in thought and didn't answer at first, even as they continued to walk. "That's pretty serious talk for a college girl," he said after another minute.

  "Maybe, but I'm involved in this artificial business, and trust me, this is a serious guy."

  "Yeah, well, if that's the case, you're never gonna find him."

  "No, I won't. That's why I came to you."

  "Ohhh. I get it now," he said, chuckling. "You figure I know every crooked operator out there."

  "Well, don't you? I remember when you used to know everybody worth knowing. At least that's what you said."

  He rubbed his chin for several seconds, staring off into the distance. His attitude seemed to change, and when he next looked at her, he was no longer smiling. "Still do," he said. "But that kind of access costs money, Cass, even for old friends."

  "That's okay, Joey. I figured it would. How much?"

  "A thousand." When she didn't respond, he added, "To start."

  She retrieved a small wafer from her jacket pocket. "Here's a bank credit for a thousand. If you need more, just call. I'm listed."

  He seemed to be troubled and averted his eyes again, shaking his head slowly. "Well, this is what it comes down to, huh?" he said, finally accepting the wafer. "Look, I'm not gonna promise you anything, but I'll give it my best shot."

  "Please."

  "Yeah, yeah, I will," he said.

  "You know, Joey, we should—"

  "We're done now, Cass," he said, kissing her cheek. "You did what you came to do, now you should get out of here." His face grew dark and for just a moment, profoundly sad.

  "How long—"

  "Look, if he can be found, I'll find him, but if you don't hear from me in a week…" He shrugged. "It's the way these things go." He hailed a passing cab, and when it stopped, he took hold of her arm and pulled her toward it. "Let's go. Slummin' time is over."