“Have you been getting sufficient release?” he asked, although he could tell by the tension in her voice and her stance that she had not.
“Some, mostly self-stimulation, sometimes I coax some of the boys into mutual oral, a little penetration, but they’re just boys. I am not having sufficiently strong or frequent enough orgasms with the consequent release of endorphins and dopamine… It is a growing distraction…”
“And that distraction is caused by?” It was something she should know.
“Increase in adrenaline and testosterone.”
“So you would accept that you are in an agitated state?”
“If you mean horny, then yes.”
He smiled at her blunt response. “Well, what can I say? I must grant your request.”
He moved forward and placed his hands on her hips. She was almost shaking with the sudden rush of adrenaline. He released her sarong and it fell around her feet.
“Remember to breath deep into your stomach. In time you will learn how to control the flow of hormones and regain equilibrium.”
“Are we beginning now?”
“Of course, it was what you wanted from the moment you decided to make your request. I may have been somewhat distracted, but not that much. Jamoon balm? Really, you must be more observant of your impulses.”
She blushed and he released his sarong. Of course it had occurred to him that he was to leave for the capital in the morning and this changed everything. The Common could not have foreseen his apprentice’s request and it was a sufficient enough reason to seek an exemption, or at least ask that his apprentice accompany him so that such critical training could continue.
10
Akash
When Shunyata’s share value broke all previous records, he announced his shock resignation and retired as the richest man on the planet. Following the example of some of his predecessors he announced he was setting up a network of charitable foundations to tackle environmental problems and to support education in Third World countries, including a scholarship program for the intellectually gifted.
He also started to spend more time in Bhutan as the disciple of the new Peling Tukse, who many believed was the reincarnation of Pema Lingpa, one of the five terton kings – the holders of the spiritual treasures of the Nyingma sect of Tibetan Buddhism. It was when he was at the Lahlung Tekchokling monastery, the ancestral home of the Peling Tukse, that he unexpectedly met the young Rinpoche’s older sister Tshering. They were married shortly after.
To many in the West he was now a lost cause, a genius who had gone off the rails and embraced the incomprehensible metaphysics of medieval Buddhism. They were not to understand the close links between his mother’s beloved Kashmir Shaivism and the origins of tantric Buddhism, or that the monasteries of Bhutan were an invaluable repository of ancient texts.
Nor were they to understand that Bhutan would be the perfect cover for his continued research. He and Aviva had been thorough. No one was paying attention to Bhutan. It had no resources, a rural economy and was of no strategic importance to anyone. It did not have diplomatic relations with any of the major powers and only India, Bangladesh and Denmark bothered to maintain residential diplomatic missions. It was considered a backwater, an oddity, and it was perfect. Not a single national or corporate security agency was interested in Bhutan and no one would think it odd that an Indian was doing business there.
It was off the radar.
Using his money and connections he bought an old monastery and converted it into a hotel for tourists and hikers. During the renovations he built a secure bunker to house a command centre. He also donated money to the Royal University of Bhutan and established the Lady Tsogyal Institute on the outskirts of the capital Thimphu, with departments in mathematics, physics and computing sciences. Simultaneously his network of charities and businesses began seeking and recruiting the best and brightest from around the world. He was increasingly regarded as a rich hippie engaged in feel-good fringe projects.
Meanwhile, under the control of Jing and Eva, Shunyata diversified, buying shares in two aerospace companies, one Brazilian and one Indian (with close links to the government owned Hindustan Aerospace Corporation), as well as several startups working in new materials, grapheme circuitry, robotics and nanotech. Science and technology writers speculated that Shunyata was taking a logical step into robotics and indulging in the vanity project of commercial space tourism. Instead Shunyata surprised everyone by returning to quantum supercomputing and designing secure, unhackable networks (integrated across multiple platforms) and announcing contracts with several major government, university and corporate agencies.
The truth is he had made a substantial breakthrough in the physics of the void and he was not about to let any nation or corporation find out. It had all happened in an intense month of manic, hallucinatory insights. He would work for long periods then collapse for days. Those close to him were worried that he was showing the signs of bipolar disorder. Word started to spread that he had gone mad.
With all the power of quantum computing at his command he started to run some of the more complex equations in quantum mechanics and quantum cosmology. There was something wrong with the theory of dark energy and matter, and of relativity. He kept returning to the theory of Hilbert Space: of ether, of quintessence, of the void.
Then he had it. It was beautiful, elegant and simple – and very, very dangerous. He had understood the nature of the void and how to manipulate it. Theoretically it meant three revolutionary things based on the understanding that energy was information: limitless power; the ability to transmit limitless data instantaneously across vast distances and, most dramatically; the ability to jump from one spacetime location to another, also instantaneously. In simple terms you slipped into the space in-between quanta - in more complex mathematical terms you folded spacetime back into the void from whence it came.
The first demonstration occurred in the new physics lab at the Royal Bhutan University. His hand-picked team generated a void field around a perfect sphere the size of a ball bearing and it disappeared into what appeared to be a small, momentary black hole. All the mass and energy that was contained within the void field disappeared. This created the first problem. As it disappeared the surrounding quantum field tried to adjust by rushing to fill the void. It was in fact a surprisingly powerful implosion that nearly destroyed the lab. He was in South America at an ecology conference when he heard. He flew back immediately, complex calculations racing through his mind.
There were months of excited meetings late into the night. It was a young Iranian particle physicist, Nasrin, who had taken him outside into the crisp Himalayan air to suggest this meant it could be used as a powerful new weapon. If one could push a specific amount of mass out of the void into normal spacetime, the displacement of quanta would cause a damaging explosion, not unlike a small, controlled nuclear explosion. “Theoretically,” she whispered, “this explosion could be sent to any spacetime location instantaneously; theoretically, provided you had the precise location, you could explode an individual brain.”
This made him sick. He contacted Aviva immediately. It meant they had to tighten their security even more. He was almost prepared to pull the plug. It was understood that no one could ever be allowed to use it as a weapon.
It was two weeks later as he stood out in the cold Himalayan night staring at the crystal bright stars on a moonless night, that he resolved to continue. There was too much at stake.
A month later they continued to the next experiment in a reinforced bunker. Again they generated a void field and the sphere disappeared, only this time it reappeared a second later in a brilliant flash of radiation across the electro-magnetic spectrum. Their measurements confirmed that their calculations were right. The amount of energy released was directly related to the mass of the sphere. This presented another problem. The next experiment involved a sphere of greater mass and there were no facilities in Bhutan to contain it, but he had alr
eady considered this possibility. Six months later the Indian Space Research Organisation launched a GLSV rocket from Sriharikota, carrying a satellite to enhance Shunyata’s satellite network. It was also carrying a sphere with the capacity to generate a void field. No one noticed the implosion in the near-emptiness of space but a team sent to the Vainu Bappu observatory in Tamil Nadu noted a flash of light two hundred thousand kilometres out from Earth as the sphere returned. They sent the results immediately to Bhutan where there were cheers and congratulations.
Later that night Aviva contacted him via their secure network. A young French research assistant, Jean Fabierre, who had recently returned to Paris to visit a sick relative, had been seen talking to someone connected to a low-level Chinese embassy official.
“There was no sick relative,” said Aviva.
“Are you sure?”
“We have recordings of him asking for a substantial sum.”
“What’s the level of the breach?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “The highest.”
“Has there been an exchange yet?”
“No, just preliminary negotiations.”
“Motivation?”
“It would seem to be a combination of stupidity, ego and greed.”
He felt sick to his stomach. He knew what happened next.
“Okay, you know what to do.”
The next week a young man wearing a hoodie confronted Fabierre. The man demanded his wallet and his cell phone and threatened him with a knife. When he handed them over the man stabbed him in the heart suddenly and efficiently without a word. He died in the street. The police said that witnesses saw a common robbery. His wallet was discovered a week later on the train tracks at Chareton le Pont, emptied of cash and credit cards. The final police report said it was one of three muggings that week, no doubt by a drug addict desperate for his next fix. Aviva reported that the Chinese had made discreet inquiries but were satisfied with the police report.
Shortly after, anonymous rumours about Shunyata started to appear on conspiracy theory websites. Aviva was prepared and the disinformation department gleefully joined in, carefully distracting the bloggers with false information to suit their particular fantasies and prejudices. In time there were several competing conspiracies, none of which bore much semblance to the truth.
11
Biyu
She rose early and rode to the gym, the full moon of Psyche her only light. She noticed the first glow of sunrise as she came out of the forest to open playing fields lit by floodlights. Already athletes were out practicing and she waved at a group of older children doing dribbling runs on the football field. It had been the first sport to develop a competition (all it required was an open grass area), followed by volleyball, although most of the traditional sports were played purely for enjoyment. As the population grew these too would find enough players to mount a full competition.
All the codes were unisex. The sports in which men or women had the clear advantage were never as popular. Football was the most obvious, even on old Earth. As women started to take the sport more seriously they developed the necessary skills within a few generations. It seemed that the only reason they had been weaker was because they had never previously been allowed to play, and with enhancement the best on this planet were as fast and strong as the men. Currently the best player was Tara Genzo, a striker with the Gliders.
When she entered the gym she headed straight to the weight machines. She barely paused before starting her routine. It was imperative that she maintain a specific heart rate. She pushed, heaved, squatted, lifted and pressed, using every muscle, concentrating most on her upper body. Then, beaded with sweat, she gulped down isotonic fluid and strapped weight resisters to her ankles and wrists. She told her guardian to set them to the required resistance and then began a series of stretches, kicks and punches, fighting against the inertia. It was tiring and her muscles burned, but she was angry and wanted to push through to the calmness of exhaustion. She finished her session at a punching bag, pounding it with her fists and feet.
“Whoa, slow down Biyu.”
She turned to see one of her coaches, a tall male athlete appropriately nicknamed Tower.
“What?” she argued, thumping the bag.
“Calm down. Your guardian alerted me that your aggression level was too high.”
“Fucking dobber,” she spat.
The guardian remained silent. It was only acting according to the program she had agreed would be set to monitor her system.
“Elevated testosterone: a stress reaction. You have to learn to self-monitor Biyu.”
She stopped and glared at him. Of course he was right. She bent over and gasped for breath. She could feel tears beginning to swell.
“You push yourself too hard. Maybe we need to reconfigure your genetic enhancements, less ball juice.”
She laughed. “Nah, I just haven’t been getting enough. My girl couldn’t come over last night and then there’s this section two shit. I may miss my match.”
“I wouldn’t let you fight in this condition. You’re likely to kill him.”
She nodded, reluctant to admit he was right.
“Shower; then I’ll book you a massage. See if we can’t calm you down.”
The showers were crowded with boisterous athletes. She found a shower away from the bodies, turned up the heat and pressure and closed her eyes.
She heard laughter and looked up to see that most of the bodies had left after quick showers, leaving a few stragglers and a small group of two boys and three girls indulging in some sex play. It was quite common to become aroused in the showers after a session. The adrenaline was up, the heart was pumping and the sensation of the water on naked skin was erotic. Most people just masturbated or helped others to masturbate, but sometimes things evolved into more serious sex play. Hadn’t the ancient bathhouses of Rome and Japan also been places of erotic dalliances? She watched as the girls encouraged the boys to penetrate each other. It was usually the girls who egged the boys on and it was the nature of male sexuality to succumb to their dares and teasing. She found the scene arousing as the girls giggled and urged the bigger boy to fuck the other one harder, taking turns to reach a hand under and squeeze their balls to try and make them ejaculate quicker. She instinctively reached to her groin but realised it would be insufficient. She needed a solid session to wash away the build up of cortisol and noradrenaline. She turned off the shower and walked dripping to the air dryer, noting that one of the girls had positioned herself in front of smaller boy and was giggling as she attempted to form a chain, eliciting even more laughter from the other girls.
“Biyu,” she turned to see an older woman smiling at her. It was Diana, a former athlete and now a qualified theraputae specialising in sports medicine.
“I suppose you’ve been informed,” she asked sheepishly.
Diana nodded. “Essentially you are wired, so, you know I know how to fix that. On the table naughty girl,” she ordered with matronly authority.
She smiled, gave her a quick hug and climbed up, with Diana slapping her hard on the arse with a loud thwack.
She had gone through this many times. Diana examined her muscles, ligaments and the position of her bones.
“You are tight in the shoulders: deltoid, infraspinatus, teres magnus and minor and you have a slight hip displacement. You are still favouring your left foot and consequently, your Achilles is strained, along with your soleus and peroneus. Had you continued you would have likely been in bandages and on crutches. Why didn’t you see me before this?”
She weakly shrugged her shoulders. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You must notice. Pay more attention.”
The session was straightforward and took an hour. Diana started with broad strokes to start to relax her muscles then she shifted to an erotic massage that brought her to a series of strong orgasms. When she was flooded with a corrective dose of the right stuff Diana worked deeper into all her muscles, finall
y unlocking the tension in her shoulders. She was left on the table to doze until she felt ready for the day, Diana’s job done.
She took a leisurely ride home, freewheeling where she could, taking the coast path and watching the sailboats and ferries on the bay. She really did feel foolish for allowing her aggression to gain the better of her. Kept at the right level it fuelled her competitive impulse, but when she passed the tipping point it became rage, pure flight and fight response, only in her case it was mostly fight. That might have been an evolutionary necessity in humanity’s more primitive past, but it also caused the prefrontal cortex to become confused with the effects of stress. The best athletes and warriors maintained a calculated calm and relied more on carefully considered strategy. Brute force and rage were for the poor foot soldiers used as cannon fodder. It might help them survive through sheer fear, but more often than not it guaranteed a brutal end. The smart ones made sure they were in the rear making the decisions.
It was late morning when she entered her apartment. She ate some fruit and considered what she would wear to her section two interview. It was a formal affair and whilst she didn’t have to wear a stitch she felt like dressing up and maybe staying in the centre for the evening. Zoe had suggested she join some of her aesthete friends and go out dancing afterwards. She tried on a few of her favourite sarongs, not that she had many, and eventually decided on a short, white, pleated gossamer sarong clasped by a gold and lapis lazuli pendant. Before she dressed she showered and coated her body with aromatic oil: every inch, including between her toes, the folds of her vulva and especially her anus, so that every part of her shimmered. She shaved her head to remove five days of stubble, leaving a five-centimetre circle of long black hair on her crown, which she brushed and tied into a ponytail. That done she applied primitive face paint: a broad red stripe from her left ear to her right, creating a band that made her eyes light up in contrast. She washed her hands and waited patiently for the body paint to dry whilst listening to one of her favourite violin pieces, swaying her hips and dancing through the apartment. Next she attached her jewellery: thick gold bands to her wrists and ankles and large gold earrings through her piercings. She considered a necklace but thought it excessive. She also thought she might wear sandals but instead decided on toe rings and matching finger rings. Finally, right before she prepared to leave her apartment, she put on the sarong, slung low on her narrow hips and split to her left thigh, making her look like some sort of hybrid ancient Egyptian and Amazonian Indian.
Paradise Reclaimed Page 5