“The process has started,” he heard Tshering say and when he opened his eyes she was kissing Freja and stroking her face - both looked radiant. Close by he heard Pema giggling and Alice whispering, obviously having just witnessed their lovemaking. He did not care. All he could think of were the stories his mother told him of apsaras, the river nymphs who seduced men for the pleasure alone. Hadn’t every civilised culture created some form of paradise where demi-gods and nymphs frolicked uninhibited in lush, idyllic surrounds?
65
Biyu
She struggled to lift her head. She felt a dull pain in her fingertips and her face. She gradually became aware of lying naked on a hospice bed, her arm attached to a drip.
“Is the pain bearable?” asked her guardian. “If not, I can increase the blockers.”
She grunted that it was bearable because she hated the sensation of being doped up.
“What time…?” she started to ask before she drifted back into unconsciousness.
The girls had been given permission to accompany her. It was their first excursion into the capital, granted because they had finally learned to control their chromatophores, although Torv had been sent along to monitor them. They whispered with excitement as they caught the first glimpse of the golden dome of the Congress building and the blue waters of the ocean.
“Well done,” said Torv. “Not a hint of emotive colour shifting.”
“She’s right,” Biyu agreed.
“The exercises worked…”
“The scans showed an increase in neural connections…”
“That govern conscious control…”
“Our prefrontal cortexes have developed…”
“At a rapid rate.”
Biyu smiled. “You can become citizens soon.”
“Theoretically…”
“In absentia…”
“We will be on Earth…”
“On assignment…”
Biyu was nervous as they walked up to Zoe’s apartment. They had talked long distance and Zoe said she was open to the modifications, but she wanted to meet the girls in person before deciding. It was hard to guess whether Zoe would be excited or alarmed, the girls were so different a muted reaction was unthinkable.
Zoe was waiting at the door, Suresh standing at her side. Biyu waved and then looked nervously at the girls. Their skin colour was stable and with the wigs and the sarongs, they looked just like any other Edenoi.
She could tell Zoe was nervous as she got closer. She had a particular expression of mild fright, especially before she was about to perform that was almost comical. Zoe grabbed her tightly, “So, this is really happening?”
“Yes. In a few days you’ll be a mother.”
Suresh stepped forward to embrace her. She was relieved that he had stepped up to take on this responsibility. Who better to act as a father than one of her best friends?
“S, this is magnus Torv…”
“Amy,” said Torv as she stepped forward and extended her hand.
“Uniform and all,” said Zoe looking at her purple sarong and officer’s bracelets.
“We have to wear them out in public,” said Biyu. “Now that the secret is out.”
“It certainly attracts attention,” said Torv.
“And these are the girls, Sun, Mae and Riku.”
The girls stood forward. “Pleased to meet you…”
“It’s an honour…”
“We’ve heard so much about you…”
“But how do I tell you apart?” asked Zoe.
“You can’t…”
“Unless we adopt different shades…”
“We are clones…”
“Sort of…”
“So don’t worry.”
“I see,” said Zoe. “Well then, come in. Suresh and I have prepared some refreshments.”
The mood was subdued and awkward as they arranged themselves in Zoe’s small apartment.
“We have seen some of your performances…”
“You are very talented…”
“Flexible,” said the girls to start a conversation.
“Thank you. Training and enhancements…” she said.
There was a moment of silence as people helped themselves to food and drink. Biyu looked at Zoe. It was obvious she was anxious to see the girls’ enhancements in action, but was being too polite to demand a demonstration before they had had a chance to eat.
“So I understand Biyu has mastered weaponry,” Suresh asked, unaware of the competition between Biyu and Torv.
Torv swallowed part of her sandwich quickly. “Yes, it’s why she was chosen.”
“But you must be skilled to be her trainer?” he asked, offering her a compliment.
“Aren’t you in charge of weapons training?” asked Zoe.
“Yes…”
“And you are how old?” asked Suresh.
“Thirteen, just about to turn fourteen…”
“And a magnus already, impressive.”
Torv blushed. Suresh was clearly flirting, trying to lighten the mood.
“And the girls are?” he asked.
“Eight,” they said in unison.
“You are tall for your age…”
“Our physical development…”
“Is enhanced…”
“We are twelve comparatively…”
“Entering puberty…”
“Riku has ejaculated…”
Zoe and Suresh’s eyes widened. They had been told of the girls’ gender assignment.
“I can show you…”
“When?” asked Biyu. “This is news.”
“Torv knows…”
“She was there…”
Biyu looked at Torv who shrugged her shoulders and then looked at Zoe who seemed confused. “Have you? You know?”
“Fucked?” asked one of the girls.
“Biyu?”
“Yes…”
“Once…”
Zoe arched her eyebrows and crossed her arms, indicating a hint of sexual jealousy.
“We have enhanced psychosexual abilities…”
“We can show you…”
“Not now,” said Torv. She turned to Zoe to apologise. “They emit strong pheromones. It stimulates the release of human hormones.”
“They can drug people?” she asked, not sure whether to be alarmed or fascinated.
“It can be very invigorating,” said Torv. “Hard to resist. But they can also stimulate fear and anxiety…”
“But we are not doing that now…”
“It would be unethical…”
“No…”
“We must let you know…”
“It would be unethical…”
“Unfair…”
“I see,” Zoe looked at Biyu for some form of emotional support.
“They won’t mind me saying they take getting used to,” she said pulling Zoe in close for a comforting hug.
Zoe sighed. “There’s a lot happening right now.”
“If it’s any consolation, everyone is dealing with a period of rapid change. Earth, new planets, technological change,” said Torv sympathetically.
“Do you want to see us use our chromatophores?”
“We’ve prepared a performance…”
“A performance?” asked Biyu.
“Yes, we have been practicing with music…”
“We sing…”
“And dance…”
“But there isn’t room…”
“Sing? When did this happen?” Biyu asked.
“We have always sung…”
“But it was undisciplined…”
“Play track,” one of the girls instructed as they quickly dropped their sarongs and took off their wigs so Zoe could see them as the really were.
Gentle music filled the room as the AI fed a prepared backing track through Zoe’s home system. As the coda set the mood, the girls started to slowly shift colour. Then to everyone’s surprise they sang a beautiful melody in pitch perfe
ct, three-point harmony. As the music built, they shifted colour in time to the music, the patterns becoming more elaborate as the music built in tempo and harmonic complexity.
Zoe was entranced by the display.
Everyone clapped when it ended and the girls smiled and clapped along, allowing their emotions to dictate a random change of colour.
“That was… Wow… Can you communicate using your skin colour?” asked Zoe.
“Yes…”
“But if you mean…”
“Can we assign specific meanings to colour combinations…”
“It can become a language…”
“With further practice we will be able to create shapes…”
“Squares…”
“Circles…”
“Polyhedrons…”
“Maybe glyphs and letters…”
“But it will require a shift in cognitive capacity…”
“Chromatophore resolution…”
“It may be up to the next generation…”
“Possibly your children…”
“If you consent to the modifications.”
“Wow, a whole new art form,” exclaimed Zoe, her head racing as she realised the implications. “The body as a canvass, changing the patterns each day: expressionist, impressionist, fauvist, the possibilities…”
“We hadn’t thought of that…”
“Art has not been our interest…”
“Maybe your children will be the first…”
“Skin artists…”
Zoe looked at Biyu. It was clear her mind was made up.
“Do you want to see Riku’s penis now?”
“You should see…”
“So you know…”
“I’m here baby…”
The voice seemed to drift in the distance. Biyu opened her eyes and squinted. Her guardian sensed her discomfort immediately and the lights dimmed.
“You slept a long time…” It was Zoe’s voice.
“The procedure is invasive, but it was successful.” It was the strategos’s voice.
Biyu blinked and her eyes came into focus. She could make out four figures standing by her gurney, Zoe and Suresh on one side, Torv and strategos Shimazu on the other.
“The baby…” she mumbled through a dry mouth.
Her guardian informed Zoe of her discomfort. She put a straw to Biyu’s mouth and sipped a sweet fluid with the same viscosity as saliva. “Successfully fertilised and implanted. Both are dividing rapidly. Apparently I’ll have a shortened gestation. Won’t get too big either.”
She attempted to sit up but it seemed as every bone in her body ached. The bed sensed her movement and the back raised itself to help her sit. She looked down at her torso and inspected her limbs. There were no scars and only her fingers were bandaged.
“The bruising will last a few days,” said Torv. “I wouldn’t recommend trying out your new equipment until then.”
“You get to rest,” said Suresh.
Biyu sighed. “Boring.”
“Um, well, physical rest,” said the strategos. “Once the drugs have worn off and you are alert, there are more reports to assess, data to digest.”
“Ugh, I hate being inactive. Can’t the thera speed up the process?”
“They already have babe,” said Zoe.
She tried to smile but it hurt. She reached for Zoe’s hand and to draw her in for a kiss. She was surprised when Zoe pulled back. “I wouldn’t. Your face is swollen and tender.”
“Think double black eye and fat lip,” said Torv.
She thought of asking for a mirror but realised she didn’t care. Bruising healed and inflammation subsided. She sighed. “Okay, rest it is then. Not meaning to be rude but can I have time alone with the mother of my child?”
“Are you dismissing your strategos, magnus?” Shimazu teased.
“Yes ma’am.”
Shimazu laughed. “Well fine then. I’ll see you in a week when you have mastered your internal weaponry.”
“A week?”
“Yes, a week. The schedule is accelerating.”
As they filed out Biyu turned to Zoe. “How are you coping, babe?” she asked, trying to smile.
Tears welled in Zoe’s eyes. “Happy, sad, exhilarated, scared.”
Biyu patted the bed, indicating she wanted Zoe to join her.
“Is there room?”
“If you straddle me.”
“You sure?”
“It’s only my face that’s swollen.”
Zoe hopped up and straddled her with the economy and grace of a dancer. She couldn’t kiss Biyu so she lay with her head on Biyu’s chest and cuddled her.
“Has Suresh been looking after you?” Biyu asked as she stroked Zoe’s hair.
“Yes. I can see why you and he are such good friends. He was a good choice for father.”
“And the circle is prepared to join a parenting agreement?”
Zoe lifted her head and stared into Biyu’s eyes. “I don’t like the tone of that question. You sound as if you are excluding yourself.”
“I just want to make sure.”
“In case what? You will be here for the birth?”
“And what if I’m not?”
“Biyu, you’re scaring me.”
“Sorry babe. It’s nothing. I’m not thinking clearly, the drugs. I don’t even know what time of day it is.”
“Evening,” Zoe said softly, knowing full well that Biyu had changed the subject.
“Open curtains,” commanded Biyu and the room began to be filled with the orange glow of sunset. Every room of the hospice had a view out to sea because the thera understood the healing property of beauty. “It’s gorgeous,” she sighed.
Zoe put her head back down on Biyu’s chest and hugged her tighter. As they lay there in the fading sunlight Biyu wondered about the child growing in Zoe’s womb. She had the feeling that her life would be quite different to hers in ways she couldn’t imagine. And Zoe wondered about the changes made to Biyu’s body and was afraid that the biomechanics would generate a corresponding psychological shift. She loved her champion athlete but Biyu was a warrior now, and that was a different matter altogether.
66
Li Li
She thought she might be falling a little in love with David. They had organised a social event to celebrate their impending departure and he was the centre of attention playing guitar and singing country, with Anne accompanying him on fiddle and back-up vocal. It wasn’t her kind of music – she thought it too sentimental - but somehow David made it sound good. Initially it seemed odd to her that an Australian Aborigine would turn to American country (a sub-genre called alt-country, as she would later learn) but David had explained that it spoke to a deep sadness in Aboriginal culture – the loss of connection to country – a word that had an emotional meaning well beyond the European understanding. As for Anne, well she was a country girl through and through, born and raised in Wyoming. The surprise had been her skill on the fiddle.
David saw her looking at him and smiled shyly. It was clear to her from the outset that she would have to make the first move. It was another cultural difference and it had been Akoi who explained that in Aboriginal culture it was considered rude to look directly at someone and that intermediaries would usually arrange relationships. Aborigines, it seemed, were concerned about being shamed, which, again, didn’t mean what it meant in English. Rather it was a complex social emotion that involved one’s proper place in the social order and one could be shamed in many ways.
So she had to flirt carefully, to learn to approach him indirectly and to understand that his apparent shyness was not a sign of his naivety or emotional innocence. The way he sang put a lie to that theory because he sang with considerable emotional depth and sensitivity, sometimes bringing people to inexplicable tears. Originally she thought it would be her task to get him to express himself - but lately she was beginning to think that he was gently leading her to go under the meaning of words and abstrac
tions to something deeper.
She looked around her. The way people had gathered in groups told her something about the factions that had formed amongst the support staff, some of whom were short-listed for the first wave of settlers. She considered factions dangerous and she had spoken at length to Anaïs about the best way to prevent them. Despite her young age Anaïs had an intuitive grasp of political psychology. She explained that each faction coalesced around a common interest or need. The trick to managing factions was to correctly understand the need and see that it was met.
“But surely ideology plays a part?” she had argued.
Anaïs had folded her legs under her in the chair, played with her long hair and thought for a moment. “People are usually attracted to an ideology because it promises to meet a core need. Discover the core need, meet it, and the ideology looses its grip.”
“But ideologies can have a powerful grip: fascism, communism, American libertarianism, religion…”
“Of course and often the need is belonging, coupled with fear. Exclusion, separation, ostracism – these are all powerful political mechanisms factions use to gain power over those it fears. We have talked about this before. Transhumanist politics must be radically inclusive, radically tolerant. It must transcend the old distinctions of tribe, race, nation, and especially economic elitism. This is why Eden provides a golden opportunity. If appearances match reality, humanity will soon face a period of resource abundance. Everyone’s needs ought to be met. It is scarcity that creates competition and creates winners and losers.”
“Maslow’s hierarchy of needs?”
“More or less, but that is simplistic.”
“Of course, but given that…”
“Well, to be even more basic: survival and meaning, two basic biological imperatives,” said Anaïs uncurling one leg and flopping it over the arm of the chair (she always managed to look as relaxed as a cat in any situation).
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