by Shawn Davis
MATERIAL PROFILE #1;
SUBJECT 9582 DONALD BLAKE, 6’2”, 180 POUNDS, AGE 25
OUTSTANDING PHYSICAL CONDITION
SUBJECT CONVICTED OF BREAKING AND ENTERING PERSONAL RESIDENCE - MARCH 2054 - SENTENCED-FRUMP PENAL COLONY APRIL 2054-JANUARY 2058.
VOLUNTEERED FOR PROGRAM-JANUARY 2058
NO PREVIOUS SERIOUS MEDICAL CONDITIONS, NO FAMILY HISTORY OF HEART DISEASE OR CANCER,
ESTIMATED LIFE SPAN; NINETY YEARS.
MARKET VALUE; $22,000, 000.
FOR MORE DETAILED INFORMATION, CLICK ON MEDICAL HISTORY.
Rayne went to the bottom of the page and clicked on MEDICAL HISTORY. A doctor’s report for the patient, Donald Blake, filled the screen. The report contained a long list of diseases and then the words TESTED NEGATIVE beside each. Rayne scrolled down the report and found a detailed listing of Mr. Blake’s family history of illnesses and diseases. The list went all the way back to Blake’s great-grandfather. Rayne scrolled down to the end of the report and read HEALTH RATING; 99.8th PERCENTILE, PRICE: 22 MILLION U.S. DOLLARS. His mind spun with confusion.
What the hell is going on in this place? Why is a convicted criminal’s medical history listed in this computer? What does the dollar amount at the end mean? Had Blake volunteered for an experimental operation? Was 22 million dollars the price for it? How would a convict come up with that kind of money? Why would a convict need an experimental operation if his health was listed in the 99th percentile?
Rayne had an endless list of questions, but no answers. He didn’t lack imagination, but he was having trouble putting all the facts together. Going back to the main menu, he checked the listing for #2. Again, there was a long list of health traits for a convict named Herman Wheeler, who was imprisoned for embezzlement in the Frump Penitentiary from 2052-2058. Mr. Wheeler was in the 99.4th health percentile and had a market price listing of 21.8 million dollars.
Rayne checked out number three on the main menu list, discovering a health list for another convicted criminal listed in the 98th health percentile with a market price of 21.2 million dollars. With these facts, he was finally starting to put it all together.
These people must be for sale. The first listing contained the individual with the highest health rating and the corresponding highest market value price.
Going down the list, the prices declined as the health ratings declined. Rayne congratulated himself on figuring out part of the mystery, but he still had plenty of questions.
Who are these people being sold to, and why?
A chill slowly crept up his spine, prickling up the short hairs on the back of his neck. His subconscious had already deciphered the mystery, but his conscious mind had yet to catch up.
Rayne clicked on the SEARCH icon. His trembling fingers typed some letters into the rectangular white space next to the icon. He typed slowly as if he was in a dream, KENNETH BAXTER. As he prepared to click ENTER, his finger hesitated above the button.
Surely, I’m wrong.
Peter clicked ENTER. His subconscious knew what was coming, but still the shock hit him like a battering ram. His entire body was enveloped in chills. On the right side of the screen was a full-body picture of his recent acquaintance, Ken Baxter. On the left side were the following words;
MATERIAL PROFILE #426
SUBJECT 10,420 KENNETH BAXTER, 5’11”, 165 POUNDS, AGE 34,
EXCELLENT PHYSICAL CONDITION
SALESMAN FOR ORIONTECH CORPORATION OCTOBER 2049-MAY 2058, MODEL CITIZEN, NO CRIMINAL RECORD, PATRIOTIC SUPPORTER OF PROGRAM
VOLUNTEERED FOR PROGRAM - MAY 2058
NO PREVIOUS SERIOUS MEDICAL CONDITIONS, NO FAMILY HISTORY OF HEART DISEASE OR CANCER
ESTIMATED LIFE SPAN; EIGHTY TWO YEARS
MARKET VALUE; $19,800,000
FOR MORE DETAILED INFORMATION, CLICK ON MEDICAL HISTORY.
Why bother clicking on MEDICAL HISTORY? I have all the information I need. The Body Bank is a massive storage facility for the bodies of “volunteers,” who will eventually be sold on the open market. With the prices so high, only the wealthiest people could afford them.
Rayne imagined an elderly multi-millionaire scrolling through the computer files, searching for the perfect body. When he found it, all he had to do was come up with the cash. Somehow, this government had been able to perfect an unprecedented system of brain-transplantation from one body to another. A wealthy, elderly person could purchase the younger body of a convicted criminal in order to increase his or her life span. When the new body eventually wore out, he or she could purchase another. In effect, a multi-millionaire could purchase virtual immortality. Barring any unforeseen accidents, he/she could exist for centuries. It was the ultimate triumph of the rich over mortality.
But what about Baxter? This still doesn’t explain Baxter. All the listings in the Body Bank, which I’ve checked so far, consisted of convicted criminals. How does Baxter fit in?
Rayne’s mind flashed back to his gruesome discovery in the sewers.
The decaying bodies in the sewers wore prison attire. The physical condition of most criminals is not ideal for a body transplantation program. Criminals are known for having a live-fast, die-young lifestyle. Most of them smoke, drink, and do illegal drugs. These negative activities wreak havoc on a person’s body over time. Only some criminals are suitable for the Body Bank program; rare specimens who are in healthy physical conditions; those people who don’t abuse their bodies. Those criminals who are unsuitable for “the program” are eliminated. After all, what good are they? Even if criminals work while they are in prison, there are high security costs to keep them there. The only way for the government to cut its losses is to eliminate those who are not physically fit. The remaining healthy criminals are then given a chance to contribute productively to society; a chance they squandered during their earlier lives. These criminals are able to redeem themselves by extending the lives of the wealthiest, most important members of the community. In a sick way, it all made sense.
Rayne buried his face in his hands and tried to clear the terrible images of decomposing corpses in his mind.
There has to be another explanation. This is too outrageous. Surely, the government wouldn’t use peoples’ bodies like vampires; sucking the life out of them just to benefit the wealthiest in society? Even criminals have rights, don’t they?
But that still brought him back to Baxter.
Why would a productive, contributing member of society like Baxter be put into the Body Bank program?
Rayne thought back to the corpses in the sewers.
Maybe the government has simply run out of healthy criminal bodies? Maybe the supply can’t keep up with the demand? Are there more elderly rich people demanding their chance at virtual immortality than there are bodies to satisfy them? If so, have they set up a system where they occasionally ensnare a middle class member of society to meet the demand of the nation’s wealthiest citizens? Maybe it is just simple supply and demand? The Medical History section of the computer had Baxter listed as “NO EXTENDED RELATIVES IN COUNTRY, FEW COMMUNITY TIES. Baxter was the perfect candidate for the Body Bank because he didn’t have any extended relatives who would be concerned about his disappearance. There were no relatives to lobby the police for an investigation.
It all worked with incredible efficiency. The proper candidates in the population were found and invited to Virtual-world along with their less healthy or more socially “connected” counterparts. The targets disappeared after traveling on one of the park’s many rides. It was simply sheer luck that I followed Baxter and his family onto the roller coaster and saw what happened.
Chapter 22
Cold Reception
Rayne decided he wasn’t going to find any more answers at the computer terminal. With an extreme effort of will, he stood and stretched his stiff muscles.
I have to keep going. I can’t let this bring me down. I have to complete the mission. Now more than ever. There is more at stake than Campion imagined.
He
eyed the door at the back of the computer room.
So far, I only have a theory. I have to confirm it.
Rayne walked to the back door and ran his hand over the wrist scanner. The door rushed open and he stepped in. There were four levels listed on the elevator panel, so Rayne randomly punched the button for level 2. His stomach dropped as the elevator shot up one floor and came to an abrupt halt.
Well, at least it wasn’t a long ride.
The doors slid open and Rayne found himself on one of the many catwalks circling the mammoth warehouse chamber. Stepping out of the elevator, he observed a long line of gleaming glass tubes extending down the catwalk. He approached the closest eight-foot tube. It was set into a steel base loaded with various switches, buttons, and gauges. Hoses and wires traveled from the side of the metal base into slots on the back wall. A number was engraved into the metal base above a control panel in the center of the machine.
The entire glass surface was covered with a granular white substance resembling frost. Placing his hand a few inches from the smooth glass surface, he felt a numbing coldness in his palm. Rayne briefly touched it with his finger. He pulled it away as if he had burned it on a hot stove. The tip of his finger turned red and burned as if it was dipped in acid.
He pulled the facemask off his neck and wrapped it around his hand to protect it. Touching the surface again, he felt the extreme cold seeping into his fingers, but the mask protected him from getting burned this time. Peter rubbed the surgical facemask against a small section of the glass tube. His eyes widened when he realized he was forming a small, clear spot on the frozen glass.
Looking through the opening, Rayne found what he was afraid of finding. An abhorrent blue human face stared at him from behind the glass. The individual’s eyes were crusted over with ice, giving him a blank stare. He had expected it, but it still didn’t quench the wave of revulsion he felt upon viewing the blue, frozen face.
Cryogenic storage. They started working on it at the end of the last century. Apparently, it is now perfected.
Rayne looked down at the number engraved on the bottom of the glass tube: 318. Glancing left, he saw the one before it was 317. He walked to the right.
Rayne hadn’t gone far when he reached the end of the aisle and the massive wall containing the arched doorway he had originally entered through. The last tube in the aisle was labeled 399.
Tubes 400-500 must be in the aisle below me.
Retracing his steps back to the elevator, Peter rode down one level. On the ground floor, a long line of cryogenics tubes lined the wall behind the rumbling generator.
The good thing about this area is that, unlike the upper catwalks, the tall generator is blocking me from the view of the technicians.
Rayne followed the numbers on the cryo-tubes until he reached #426. He estimated where a person’s face would be in the tube and rubbed against the frozen glass with his facemask.
Several seconds later, Rayne found himself staring into the expressionless blue face of his old acquaintance, Ken Baxter. Like the other body, Baxter’s eyes were crusted over with white ice. His perfectly sculpted blonde hair was covered with a thin layer of frost. The frost covered his body like a bizarre skin disease. It looked like he had been frozen solid into a block of ice.
Cryogenic freeze. The ultimate biological preservative.
Peter checked the next cryo-tube in the line: 427, where he found Baxter’s wife. He checked cryo-tube 428, Baxter’s little boy. Rayne shuddered with revulsion as he glared at the boy’s ice-crusted eyes.
Rayne looked to the left when he heard heavy footsteps striking the floor. Turning toward the sound, he felt the blood freeze in his veins as he saw a blue gleam from down the hall. A Shock Trooper had turned into the cryo-tube corridor from the passageway through the generator. The Trooper saw him and began striding in his direction carrying an automatic rifle.
“What are you doing here?” the Trooper asked him through his metallic voice filter.
“Hello, officer, how are you?” Rayne said, unable to think of anything to say.
“What are you doing here?” the Trooper repeated, leveling his automatic rifle at Rayne’s chest.
I have to think of something fast or I’m done.
“Officer, I’m just checking to make sure this cryogenic unit is functioning properly. I was told there was a problem with it,” Peter explained with a forced calmness in his voice.
“Give me your wrist,” the officer commanded as he lowered his rifle to his side and grabbed Rayne’s wrist. The officer pulled a handheld scanner from his belt and ran it over the wrist code.
“Executive Level four. That makes sense,” the Trooper said. “But why are you dressed like a Med Tech?”
“I was repairing some equipment in an operating room, and they told me to wear these scrubs and mask to keep the room sterile,” Rayne replied. By this time, he had worked out an elaborate lie.
“Why are you still wearing Med Tech scrubs in here? I’ve never seen that before,” the Trooper said. “I need you to come with me. I want you to explain it to my shift commander.”
“Sure, no problem. I don’t have anything to-” Rayne broke off in mid-sentence as he swept his right leg behind the Trooper’s armored leg, while simultaneously pushing him violently in the chest with both hands.
The Trooper lost his balance in his heavy armor and tumbled backwards. He landed on his back with a heavy metallic clang, but still retained his grip on his automatic rifle. Rayne didn’t waste any time. He was on top of the Trooper in an instant, pushing violently on the helmet’s black faceplate until it struck the floor. He grabbed the helmet with both hands, slamming it repeatedly. Each time the helmet struck the floor, it sounded like someone was pounding a metal wall with a hammer.
Rayne continued slamming the Trooper’s head into the metal catwalk until the Trooper finally stopped struggling. Taking the Trooper’s electrical baton from his belt, he turned it to high voltage. He stood slightly away from the body and touched the baton to the metal armor. The Trooper’s body convulsed from the electric current. When he pulled the baton away, the trembling slowed and then ceased. The Trooper wasn’t moving.
Rayne glanced down at the Trooper’s black leather police belt and saw a large automatic pistol contained in a side holster and eight ammunition clips hooked to the other side. Bending down, he slid the electrical baton back into its holster. He quickly unbuckled the Trooper’s belt, unsnapped the holders, and removed the belt from the Trooper’s waist.
Rayne lifted his baggy scrub shirt and wrapped the police belt around his own waist. He had to tighten it a few notches to fit his body and tucked it under his scrub pants and shirt. Looking down at his mid-section, he realized no one could tell the belt was there with the long hospital shirt covering it, except for a slight bulge on his right hip from the automatic pistol.
Glancing around, Rayne was relieved to see that no one had noticed his handiwork. He didn’t want to waste time dragging the body away because he couldn’t think of a good place to hide it. He made sure his newly acquired police belt was well hidden before he stepped over the armored body and limped toward the passageway through the generator.
At least I have something to defend myself with now.
Peter approached the opening to the generator passage. He didn’t know how long it would be before someone found the Trooper’s body, but he intended to get as far away as possible. He figured he could continue to blend into the environment outside the colossal cryogenics chamber by wearing his hospital scrubs. Concentrating on the floor, he limped purposefully forward.
I have to get out of here. I have to inform Campion about the Body Bank. Maybe they can leak it to the press and bring the government down with the enormity of the scandal. No government that preys on its citizens can survive. The scandal will shock and unite the nation. The public will demand reform and vote the President and his cronies out of office. The whole situation can be resolved without any further bloodshe
d. Campion won’t have to launch her massive strike against the capitol city.
These thoughts caused Rayne to quicken his pace, despite his injury. His swollen ankle was throbbing with pain, but he figured it was only temporary.
Once I get out of here and back to the organization, Campion’s people will take care of it. She told me they have the most advanced medical facilities in the country beneath Hovercrafts International.
Rayne left the cryogenics chamber through the arched doorway and traversed the short connecting hallway until he reached the four-way intersection. Pausing for a group of med techs to wheel someone by on a stretcher, he continued straight ahead. He felt slightly nervous when he passed another Shock Trooper in the hall, but he relied on his disguise to get him through. The Trooper took no notice of him.
If he only knew what I just did to his buddy.
Rayne looked straight ahead as the Trooper marched past him with his heavy boots. He knew he was approaching the operating room after he passed the long, clear glass window to the laboratory. Continuing past offices and patient rooms, he finally reached the operating room doors.
Entering, he cut across the spacious operating chamber. He made a passing glance at the strange table with the large mechanical arm hovering above it. Reaching the elevator door on the far side of the room, he saw there was no wrist scanner next to it.
Apparently, they don’t care who leaves the Body Bank. They only care who enters.
Rayne entered the elevator and pressed the top button, MC Y48, which he recognized as the label for the maintenance corridor he was in beneath the Powerdrome. His stomach dropped as the elevator shot up like a rocket. The door opened, revealing a familiar steel corridor. He stepped out and jogged down the tunnel.
Will Campion appreciate that I discovered the Body Bank or will she be angry that I didn’t complete the specified mission? The Body Bank security forces are eventually going to discover the body of the Shock Trooper in the cryo-tube corridor. At that point, any further exploration of the underground complex will be impossible. How can I search for a way into the underground nuclear power plant when the entire security force is combing the place for me? It’s better to get out of here now, get the information back to Campion, and return another day to complete my previous mission. It won’t help anyone if I am killed before I can get information to the organization.