by Eliza Green
Simon then witnessed the physical degradation reverse in each Elite before him. Each session had required the power to be replenished, which meant taking more power from the grid. But it appeared that while his machine needed power, the Nexus contained an infinite supply of energy.
However, for all his efforts, just twenty-four hours later, Tanya showed signs of her prior physical weakness again. Simon gathered alongside three human doctors in the Elite’s staging room, a large, circular space beyond the observation room with ten beds. Before the Elite reached transcendence, Tanya wanted them to lie in repose and think about how the treatments had altered their minds. Tanya had said it would prepare them to live without their bodies, which, if transcendence worked, they would no longer need.
Ten headboards followed the curve of the wall attached to ten beds, the ends of which pointed towards the centre of the room. Tanya shuffled around the unoccupied space, large enough to hold twenty people, while her assistants followed with her hover chair. It wouldn’t be long before she needed the chair again. The nine remaining Elites had joined the discussion and sat on their respective beds.
Simon stood alongside the lead geneticist assigned to herald in this great change: Dr Jameson.
‘This is ridiculous. The power from the grid isn’t enough. The reversal results are just temporary,’ said Tanya. ‘How much longer do we need before we can fully transcend?’
‘We need more time. The treatments are aggressive for a reason,’ said Dr Jameson. ‘If we slow the treatments down, we won’t push the mind to accept total transcendence.’
Tanya grunted. ‘So we’re stuck in these useless bodies for how much longer?’
‘Indefinitely,’ said Dr Jameson. ‘We can’t carry out more treatments on any of you until we’re sure your bodies can endure them. They alter your genetic structure, speed up ageing. If you are to beat this ticking time bomb, you must outrun the changes.’
Tanya pressed her gnarled fingers to her temple. ‘Simon, the power isn’t enough. It’s taking too long to repair all the Elites. How much can the machine store?’
‘We can try doubling it, but I haven’t been able to test it except for the amounts we’ve taken so far.’
Simon knew that taking too much would alert Bill Taggart and his ITF men and possibly lead to their experiment being shut down too soon.
‘Double, that’s all?’ Tanya groped behind her for the chair within her grasp. Her hand missed the edge; one of her assistants helped her to sit. She sighed when her backside found the seat. ‘Double gives us, what, two days of age reversal? Then what?’
Jameson stood with his hands behind his back. Simon remembered the man from some old World Government footage. He’d been the lead doctor to test a young Indigene who had been captured. Since then, Jameson had had his extensive knowledge of genetics upgraded, courtesy of the mind-mapping machine.
Rapid mind advancement had its perks.
‘The next stage of the treatment is extremely aggressive. I don’t know if two days of healing will work, but we can try. All we can hope for is to reach the stage prior to full transcendence.’
Tanya nodded, looking hopeful. ‘Okay, we’ll try that. But if it doesn’t work we may need to take a lot more power. The Nexus has proved to be a formidable healing source but it can’t do much if we only give it a narrow conduit to reach us through. We need more power and to widen that channel.’
Simon didn’t know how much power the machine could safely contain. He wasn’t keen on overloading it without testing it first. ‘If we slam too much power into the machine, we might break it. Then it won’t be of use to us. There’s also the risk the Indigenes will detect our access to the Nexus energy. If they figure that out, they might block our access to it.’
Tanya grunted. ‘We cannot control their actions but this is a matter of life and death.’ She hovered closer to Jameson. ‘We need the power to live, am I correct, doctor?’
Simon caught the small step back Jameson took from her withered appearance.
‘Yes. If the body dies before you complete transcendence, you will lose the consciousness forever.’
Tanya’s steely gaze cut to Simon. ‘See? We must try everything, Simon. You were always too cautious, even in your human form.’
And for good reason. His cautiousness had allowed Simon to survive in a world that harboured dangerous humans like Charles Deighton, and now Tanya Li. The power Tanya and the Elites could yield required him to keep pace with their plans. If he didn’t, he risked being left behind.
Guns didn’t win wars; planning and strategy did.
‘The Nexus wasn’t the least bit phased by the volume of people it had to heal,’ said Tanya. ‘In fact, it seemed to want to do more.’
Simon felt his caution stir, in the pit of his stomach. ‘The Nexus is organic. We must be careful how we use it. We cannot control it like the power in my machine, should anything go wrong. I would warn against giving it access to more power without testing.’
Tanya seemed to consider it; Simon held his breath. The other Elite sat in silence on the edge of the beds, hunched over and watching the discussion. Their eyes shifted from Simon to Tanya and back. Simon couldn’t read the Elite’s minds, nor could they read his, but he was sure they could communicate telepathically with each other.
‘Okay, we start with double for each of us,’ said Tanya after a moment. Simon released his breath. ‘We’ll take it from the main feed to New London.’
Simon nodded. He’d won this argument for now. ‘We must proceed slowly. If we take too much in one go, Bill Taggart could shut off the power to the city and our access.’
Tanya grunted as she hovered in her chair. ‘He wouldn’t disable the city like that. Too many things rely on power. The food replicators for one. Their Light Boxes for another.’
‘The latter is not a necessity,’ said Simon. ‘The humans are adaptable. They can live without many things. They can learn to live without power. We must give them no reason to try.’
In the infancy of the transfer programme, the World Government had wanted to create a simpler version of Earth on Exilon 5. That version began with no technology to pollute the minds of the people, as had happened on Earth. They would start again. But illegal tech had flooded the market and infected the minds of the people until Exilon 5 had become no different to Earth. The world was too far gone to change things now.
One of the Elite turned towards Tanya. She appeared to listen.
‘Seven wants to know if we’ve ruled out storming the closest district. We could demand access to their Nexus.’
Tanya shook her head as if her mind were being pulled in different directions. Another Elite’s attention was on her.
‘No, you’re right,’ she said, then turned to Simon and the doctors. ‘Six says we must not storm the district in our current state. We would be unable to overpower the Indigenes.’ Tanya huffed out a breath. Simon saw the effort it took for her to speak aloud in her current form. ‘We must be stronger before we try. At least fifty per cent more than we are now.’
Simon ran through the options available to them. ‘Say we steal more power from the grid and Bill shuts off access. That’s our access gone. The second option is we allow him to build a separate solar grid that will give us whatever power we need—’
‘We don’t have time for that option,’ interrupted Tanya. ‘I’m not prepared to wait months to transcend.’
‘Okay, the third is we make it impossible for them to disconnect our power cable without blowing the supply. I used responsive materials to design the cable. Responsive materials can take commands. If I program our cable to remain connected to a power source, it would take more than a few engineers to remove it.’
‘There’s a fourth,’ said Tanya. ‘We widen the conduits to the Nexus and access more of its power.’
Simon still had the knowledge of a geotechnical engineer. To access the Nexus, he had drilled three precise and narrow holes that punctured the area where t
he largest concentration of gamma existed.
‘To be honest, I’m surprised they haven’t noticed we’ve accessed their Nexus,’ said Tanya.
‘When they connect to the Nexus they do so subconsciously,’ explained Simon. ‘If the Nexus is redirecting some of its reserves to find our machine, they may not even be aware of that action.’
Tanya shook her head and smiled. ‘Isn’t it ironic that the Indigenes were once the species closest to extinction? Here we are a new species with such advanced minds that we could cure all known illnesses. But our bodies weaken us to the point where none of that matters. If this doesn’t work we may not see out the rest of the week. You’re lucky we still need you, Simon.’
Her chilling statement put Simon on high alert. Since the machine had become operational and the Elite had increased their efforts to reach transcendence, he had wondered what his role would be when it was all over.
Tanya stared at him, which prompted him to say, ‘The only option readily available is to take more power from the New London grid.’
‘There’s one other option we have yet to consider,’ said Dr Jameson.
Tanya turned her chair to face him. ‘And that is?’
The Elite had perked up, Simon noticed.
‘We know full transfer of consciousness is not possible yet, but Charles Deighton transferred a copy of his personality and memories into the young Anton’s body eight years ago.’
Simon frowned. ‘You want to preserve the Elite’s minds in the Indigenes?’
Jameson shook his head. ‘Not the Indigenes, but younger bodies than theirs. That could ensure the Elite are strong enough to reach transcendence. We must preserve the mind. Otherwise, this will be for nothing.’
Tanya seemed intrigued by the idea and, judging from their almost imperceptible smiles, so too did the rest of the Elite.
Simon feared where this conversation was headed. ‘I think we should try the power idea first.’
Tanya waved her hand dismissively. ‘We can try, but this is looking like the better option.’ She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘How old are you, Simon?’
‘Fifty-two in human years.’
‘And would you say the extensive testing has strengthened or weakened your body?’ Tanya waved her hand again. ‘No matter, Jameson can determine your physical prowess and that of other Conditioned, isn’t that right doctor?’
Jameson nodded. ‘We would need to match the right mind to the right host.’
Tanya’s laugh came out soft and feathery. ‘I wouldn’t fancy my copied mind living in an unbearably dull host.’ She glanced at Simon and added, ‘Don’t look so worried, Simon. We would only be sharing your mind. Temporarily.’
Nothing to do with transcendence felt temporary. This wasn’t what Simon had signed up for when he agreed to be altered. A longer life in a stronger body—that’s what Tanya had promised. He’d viewed the Elite’s achievement of transcendence as an end to his contract with the former board members. But if he heard right, Tanya would use their mind-mapping machine not to transfer skills to his already overworked mind, but a copy of an entire consciousness. Could his mind take it? Or worse, would the intrusion destroy what little peace he needed to function?
When Charles Deighton had hijacked Anton’s mind, Anton had almost lost himself to the more dominant personality. That’s what Bill Taggart had said and Simon saw the same potentially happening to him.
His mind was not the strongest. And assuming Tanya had Simon in mind as her host, her more aggressive one would prevail. He would become a casualty in Tanya’s pursuit of transcendence.
He’d been okay with the idea when Tanya risked her own life.
But now? He needed outside help to preserve what remained of his humanity.
18
The blinding sun made Marcus’ eyes water. He wiped away the tears with his sleeve, but it only made them water more. Through blurry eyes, he examined the blistered hands that clutched the shovel Ollie Patterson had given him. Ollie had told him he’d run out of gloves. Bullshit. He’d seen him put a pair in his pocket earlier.
A giant hole. That’s what Ollie wanted him to dig. Alone. He couldn’t see the reason when they had machines, diggers even, that could save him from sweaty, manual labour. The same machines the other men used to transport bulkier building materials from one location to the other.
Not by hand. By machine.
Marcus stopped and straightened out his back, stooped after a morning of digging dirt. This was the same work he used to do for Gaetano, except his holes had been the size of a body. This one couldn’t fit a body lengthways. He’d have to bend it to make it fit.
This useless hole had no purpose other than to punish Marcus. He’d seen Ollie and Harvey chatting about it, glancing his way when they thought he didn’t notice. He had, and he’d even asked Harvey about it.
‘Dig a hole? What the fuck for? What have I done?’
‘Nothing,’ said Harvey. ‘And that’s the problem. You laze around when the other men get to work. You’re late to the job and you talk back to the others. In a word, you’re a liability. But Ollie can’t get rid of you because the ITF assigned you to this job, so you’ll dig holes until you learn some respect.’
Marcus tossed the shovel to one side and sat on the pile of dirt he’d been working on all morning, yesterday evening and into the night. He’d been supposed to do recon with Clement last night, but Ollie had assigned the Indigene to someone else. Clement had asked him to spread a lie among their group that the Indigenes wanted to switch allegiances permanently to the human side. Clement said it was to lower Harvey and Ollie’s guard around them. Not his first preference, to help an Indigene, but Clement had promised him something neither Harvey nor Ollie had: a chance at power. He’d spread the rumours among the other men at dinner last night.
‘Apparently the ITF are closing in on a splinter group near New Melbourne. Looks like they’ve got a lead on the head of operations there.’
‘Bullshit. Who told you that?’ said one man.
‘I overheard someone talking about it.’
‘One of the Indigenes? They’d say anything to scupper this deal.’
Marcus shook his head. ‘A human with a vested interest in keeping this deal alive: Bill Taggart.’
The men had shown little reaction to Marcus’ news, but he was confident word would spread back to Ollie and Harvey.
That morning, though, he might as well have said nothing for all the good it did him. A hip flask would be nice right about now, with a hit of something to numb his aches and pains. But Ollie was a former evangelist or some other bullshit because the house was dry. Not a lick of booze to be found anywhere.
This job was a joke and Marcus would make Ollie Patterson pay for humiliating him. He was nothing more than a lanky son of a bitch with airs and graces that made Marcus want to puke. What he hated more than defectors were people who lied about who they were, who put on a show with some fabricated bullshit version of themselves to fit in with everyone else.
Sounded a lot like what Marcus did on Earth.
But his alter ego was about survival, not being a prick. Ever since Harvey had altered his face and turned him into Martin Casey, he could feel his real personality slipping away. He’d have to work extra hard to keep Marcus Murphy alive.
A vehicle sped past, forcing Marcus to his feet and to resume digging. He didn’t need to see past the tinted windows to know Ollie Patterson rode in the vehicle. While Marcus didn’t fear him, he continued to pretend to be the man Harvey had made him—a mild-mannered office worker with no balls, who was as dead as a dodo.
The vehicle stopped and Ollie got out. Ollie gave him a wave, which Marcus reciprocated with a salute. But what irked him more was seeing Harvey emerge from the other side of the vehicle.
The hierarchy only strengthened Clement’s accusations that the men didn’t care about Marcus. But Marcus had picked up a few things about lying cheats from working with Gaetano Agostini and his rabi
d son, Enzo.
Never show your hand to the enemy.
Ollie Patterson was a lackey and he hadn’t decided what Harvey was yet. Sure, he shunned the spotlight that Ollie occupied, but Marcus could see how Harvey pulled Patterson’s strings, especially at meetings.
Sweat trickled down his back as he tossed dirt from the hole to a pile behind him. What he wouldn’t trade for a long, hot bath, a case of gin and a knife to stick in Ollie’s gut until he squealed. But more than that, he would love to know where Ollie went while they worked.
When it looked like Ollie and Harvey were on their way over, Marcus removed something from his coat pocket and resumed his dig.
‘That hole is looking mighty good, Martin,’ said Ollie. ‘Keep it up.’
Marcus straightened up and looked the squealer in the eye. ‘How big do you want it?’
Ollie shrugged while Harvey looked elsewhere. ‘I’ll let you know when you’re done.’
‘Whatever you say; you’re the boss.’
He slapped Ollie on the bare arm, much to the man’s surprise.
Ollie glanced down at his arm and laughed, then walked to his car. Harvey didn’t react but when Ollie’s back was turned, he gave Marcus a quick thumbs-up and a smile.
What the fuck was that? It irritated Marcus that he couldn’t get a read on Harvey’s hot and cold signals.
Ollie and Harvey climbed into their vehicle. Marcus waited until the car drove back the way it had come in. He waited some more for it to disappear from view.
Marcus tossed his spade to the side and told the foreman he was taking lunch. He walked the mile back to the safe house. There, he collected his DPad and turned on the remote tracer. The tracer picked up the micro locators hidden in the almost invisible receiver Marcus had slapped on to Ollie’s arm—a gadget from the Agostini regime. He had until that evening to track Ollie before he washed the receiver down the drain.