Slaves of Pangaea: The Second Nick Wolfe Sci Fi Adventure (Nick Wolfe Adventure Series Book 2)

by Ross H Henderson

  In one of the farming facilities, the lights went out during a routine systems check. When the lights came back on, Josh’s arm was around Gretchen protectively. Her smile was more from happiness than relief, and the two stayed close for the rest of the tour.

  The cavern was at least 20 feet high and many acres across, with crops extending farther than they could see. They couldn’t see the livestock, but the animals could be faintly smelled and heard. Large hydroponic trays hung from the rafters. Growing plants without soil was apparently not a problem for KronosKorp and its employees.

  When he could remember to do it, Wolfe dutifully wrote notes in his notebook the way a reporter or a researcher would do. The rest of the time, when Gretchen asked him if he wanted to write anything down he would say something like, “I’m not going to forget something like this!” Later in the day he would just smile and point to his head as if to say, “I have it all right here.”

  The trio lingered in the farming area and it seemed like they might break for lunch when Gretchen asked if either of the men had any questions.

  “I was hoping to see your medical facilities,” Wolfe said.

  “I’m afraid there’s not much to see there. I mean, it’s a good hospital, but it’s still just a hospital. Probably nothing you haven’t seen before.”

  “So the value proposition of living forever, injury and disease-free comes from a “good hospital?”

  “Well, not exactly, but I’m not allowed to show you that part. Lots of proprietary secrets behind those walls.”

  Wolfe responded, “To be honest, I had intended to make that a focus of my story. Space travel, space colonization, terraforming—it’s interesting, but it’s been done to death. Immortality—now there’s something everyone can relate to.”

  “Let me talk to Mr. Kronos. You’re scheduled to meet with him tomorrow anyway. Maybe we can view the facility together.”

  “I’d like that. Thank you, Gretchen.”

  “No promises, but I’ll do what I can.”

  Chapter 7

  Rik Kronos was a man in control of everything in his world but himself. He spied on Pangaea’s inhabitants and its visitors, keeping tabs on hidden screens in his estate. He hesitated calling it a mansion, even though the whole island belonged to him and everyone knew it. His paranoia made him unpredictable and often dangerous. His genius, coupled with his unflinching belief that he was doing what was best for mankind, often made him a monster. He could easily forgive himself for being cruel or thoughtless in the day-to-day dealings in his life—he was saving the world.

  He was in his late forties by now but still had a full head of jet-black hair, slicked back, and a goatee that made him look devilish. He had a thick frame and was on the pudgy side, but his customary black pants and blazer were tailored so well that most people wouldn’t notice.

  While he was interested in cloning and genetics, his true passion was cybernetics: augmenting humans with technology. He was a programmer at heart. By now, machines made what you told them to make, and there was little need to know the how chip itself was made, only the need to communicate effectively with the computers that made it. Kronos spoke the language fluently.

  His interest in cybernetics developed quickly after Kronos attended a medical conference when he was 25 years old. The event focused on implanting a new type of computer chip in the brains of patients with Alzheimer’s disease. The chip served as non-degradable memory, and eventually could help these patients retain their memories for as long as they lived. In the rare event of a malfunction, memory could be restored relatively easily with a new chip, as long as uploads were made to it on a regular basis. If this was done, almost all memory could be restored with computer-guided laser surgery that took about an hour.

  Kronos lent his abilities to the company, a subsidiary of BioMek Horizons called Souvenir Solutions, and was made a senior partner within a year at the age of 26. This was about a year and a half after he attended his first cybernetics conference.

  The program was a success within a few years, effectively making Alzheimer’s disease extinct, an inconvenience that required a little planning and an hour-long surgery, the way LASIK surgery once all but eliminated the need for glasses. Souvenir Solutions made billions worldwide. The rights to the medical procedure were opened up five years after the technology was developed in much the same way prescription medicines might be shortly after they’ve been developed, but there was no such provision for the programming of the chip, which is where the medical miracle took place. It left doctors in a position where they could be licensed to do the procedure, but were still beholden to Souvenir Solutions to supply the chips.

  Souvenir Solutions became an upstream supplier; they were free from doing the surgeries and from assuming risk against malpractice suits. With this they were really able to concentrate on research, development, and marketing. In addition to repeating their magic with ALS patients and many with brain and spinal injuries, Souvenir Solutions also held the biggest cybernetics conference in the world every year.

  Eventually, the secrets of the chip were found out and even improved on, but by now the surgery and the chips themselves were so commoditized it was hardly worth the effort to steal the information. The Brain-Chip procedure had run its course as a generator of significant revenue. By now the chips were just like so many cellular phones. Souvenir Solutions were finally victims of their own success, though it was a lot of success, and everyone involved with the company became millionaires.

  Tristan Evans himself made millions, but he barely noticed. To him it was just another company he had invested in. He was aware of what they accomplished, but by this time he was more concerned with how this procedure could be used to train soldiers or otherwise be weaponized.

  The procedure had proven to be useless as a training tool. The memory of the trainer using many weapons worked perfectly and quickly. Months, even years of training could be completed in an hour. As long as the skills being learned didn’t involve something beyond the physical capabilities of the trainee, they could do it instantly and as effectively as the expert. The problem was that it was difficult to separate the implanted memory from the real memories of the subjects, who would shift from their own identity to that of their instructor while their brain tried to make sense of these foreign memories.

  The Chip-Train program was scrapped and the company was sold to Kronos for practically nothing. Evans knew Kronos might innovate something else, but he no longer wanted to spend any time or money of his own to make it happen.

  Chapter 8

  With the Chip-Train program shelved, Rik Kronos turned back to the general public to see what kind of use they might have for his brain-chip. He decided on using the chip as a combination wireless link and mental hard drive for the Internet, which had seen exponential development, creating more space and speed than ever. Despite a public that was perpetually hungry for information, demand could not keep up with the supply. There was more than enough space for Kronos’ vision to come to life.

  The chip was great for research. It could be used to gain instant access and recall directly into the brain of the user. Terabytes of storage would be made available. The competitive advantage of someone with the whole Internet in his head was too great to ignore. Soon everyone had to have one. This was the perfected form of the Internet: all the knowledge without the trolls. Programs could also be uploaded to project sights and sounds directly into the user’s brain on demand, usually by an implant in their wrist, but sometimes in the eyelid. With this addition, someone could imagine different colors in a room; turn a wall into a movie screen-sized television or monitor; dial up virtual pets that seemed to walk around in the room; conjure beautiful people who could “inhabit” the room and talk about any subject with the same knowledge the user had access to; talk dirty to the user; or answer general questions like the weather forecast, sports scores, or stocks.

  Whether this technology would be used for work or as a pair of ros
e-colored glasses—or both—didn’t really matter. The newly formed KronosKorp was once again making money hand over fist. Once in a while, someone would catch a computer virus. The user’s internal security software would fight it off with no noticeable problem 99.4% of the time. But when it didn’t, the person affected would simply shut down mentally, their own brains having atrophied to the point of uselessness. These hapless souls would be feral and frightened at first, but they were quickly reduced to little more than zombies wandering aimlessly, barely breathing, unable to remember anything except that something was wrong. They were pitiful creatures.

  These people were made to disappear. They were either sent to mental institutions or simply eliminated, depending on the resources and will of their families. Either way they were never seen or heard from again. They were inconvenient, and ultimately frightening: this could happen to anyone. This was difficult enough to bear, but anyone who thought about it hard enough would realize they gave their intellect away to their brain-chips—they let the Internet do all the heavy lifting for too long, and they themselves were just dumb terminals accessing a hard drive they had nothing to do with creating. Most of their thoughts were literally not their own. And what if someone decided to manipulate that information? History could be something that never happened and they wouldn’t know the difference. No one read books anymore but once a book or magazine was printed, it could not be changed at the whim of someone who knew how to use a computer against someone being used by one.

  But this didn’t happen often. Even those few who knew the truth didn’t dwell on it. It was just too easy to enjoy the convenience and benefits of having a computer brain. It would help some people achieve, and others to not mind so much if they didn’t succeed. There were, of course, people who didn’t embrace the new technology, who ended up being the strongest mentally since they didn’t sell out their own imaginations. These people were the ones who saw the need and joy in raising families. If any generation of children were born to travel among the stars, they were born to these exceptional families.

  And Rik Kronos would show them the way.

  Chapter 9

  Gretchen had not intended to give Wolfe and Taylor a demonstration of the medical abilities of KronosKorp, but she was called away on short notice as a terraformer in training broke his arm after falling off a wall on the confidence course. The recruit was new, so Gretchen was asked to make sure his medical records and contracts were in order. Once Wolfe heard about this he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Ostensibly, that was the kind of story he was after; he would have raised suspicion if he just walked away from Kronos’ secret to immortality. If he couldn’t have the secret, he needed to at least ask for a demonstration. Gretchen figured Nick’s story would be just enough to show the outside world what they could do in Pangaea. The PR would be unbelievable; Kronos would have people and money flowing in from all corners of the world from new believers wanting to live among the stars and to live forever.

  Peter Bailey hadn’t been in Pangaea a week before breaking his arm, falling awkwardly from the top of a 10-foot wall on an obstacle course. Despite a gruesome compound fracture, Peter was holding up well. Knowing he would be back to 100% in an hour kept him in high spirits. He didn’t stare much at the bone sticking out of his forearm, but was not afraid to do so. The young recruit was wheeled into the operating room. Wolfe and Taylor were in hot pursuit, but were stopped by two large orderlies. “We’re supposed to be in there too,” protested Taylor.

  “Sorry, sir,” the first orderly replied, “but no medical personnel are allowed past this point.”

  The visitors complained loudly, but were denied entrance. Walking away, they decided to have a look around. Despite all the technology, the hospital was fairly empty of staff and patients.

  “I guess with the quick procedures they do, there is no need for beds,” deduced Taylor.

  “Yeah, but where are the doctors?” Wolfe asked.

  “There are definitely some pieces missing.”

  While walking down one of the bright, white hallways they ran into Gretchen.

  “There you two are! I’ve been looking for you.”

  “We thought you were in the operating room.

  “Nope, I don’t get to go in there either. There’s nothing to see in there anyway. From what I understand, they just sedate the patient in there and cart him off to one of the operating theaters.”

  “I don’t suppose my esteemed colleague and I could get in there and watch?”

  “I’m sorry, no. Only Mr. Kronos, his medical team, and final year medical students are allowed in there while the procedure is going on.”

  “What about after?”

  “I can get us in the theater once the procedure has been confirmed successful.”

  The operating theater rivaled that of any medical school or hospital in the United States. The main differences were the closer proximity of the seats to the operating table, and the soundproof glass between them.

  “I can’t hear anything,” said Taylor.

  “Normally they do have an intercom piped in, but it appears to be malfunctioning.”

  “I didn’t think anything malfunctioned here.”

  “Accidents happen, even on Pangaea, Mr. Taylor, but as you can see, we are quick to make repairs.”

  Peter Bailey was still groggy, but coming around. He was completely naked, and orderlies were gently sponging him dry. He was glistening, almost shiny, as if he had been sweating the whole time. The floor was noticeably wet too.

  “They do know it was his arm that was broken, right?” smirked Taylor.

  Gretchen replied, “I don’t pretend to understand the process, but I know it works. Observe.”

  Then, seemingly on cue, Peter sat up and looked at his body, then at his arm as the doctor was apparently telling him what had happened. He looked slightly disappointed for a moment, but then started to nod his head comprehendingly.

  “Sometimes there is some disorientation after the procedure. It can last for a few minutes, or for a day or two. It just depends on the patient. In this case I’d be surprised if he isn’t back to training tomorrow.”

  At that moment, a large figure entered the room, instantly recognizable by his appearance and demeanor as the one and only Rik Kronos. He started with a safe assumption, “I trust you were impressed by our medical technology.”

  Wolfe, acting the part of the scientific reporter said, “Mr. Kronos, this is incredible. It is such a pleasure to meet you. I have so many questions.”

  “Fire away, Mr. … Wolfe, is it?”

  “Yes. How is this possible? How do you deal with an injury like this? Where’s all the blood?”

  Kronos put a hand on Wolfe’s shoulder to help reassure him.

  “It’s all in our Genetic Reconstruction procedure. We simply employ an army of microscopic nanorobots to repair and regrow tissue, muscle, nerves, and bone at the genetic level.

  “And since the genetic map is that of the patient, there’s no danger of rejection by the body as there would be with a transplant. Just amazing! My editor is not going to believe this. Can we see more?”

  “Of course, Mr. Wolfe.”

  Wolfe started with questions and hypotheticals that he hoped would yield more than just the nuts and bolts of Kronos’ technology.

  “I’ve heard different things about KronosKorp’s ability to heal the human body from things ranging from injury to old age to death itself. What do you say about this? Are there any limits? After what I have just seen I’m wondering more than ever.”

  Kronos chuckled and replied, “Well, we haven’t had to deal with old age yet, but there’s no reason to think we can’t beat that too. About everything else, yes. We have beaten every injury and disease we’ve come up against.”

  “What about brain disease?”

  “What about it?”

  “I believe you can heal brains, but what do you do with a recruit with a fully healed brain with no memory? I don’t th
ink even you can re-grow memories. What do you do in a case like this? Does the patient go back home to live a different life?”

  “Not at all, Mr. Wolfe. You are probably aware of the brain chips that contributed greatly to my fortune. While they are known for helping revive the Internet and linking people to it, their original use was to help Alzheimer’s patients retain their memories.”

  “Of course. I should have known. I’m guessing these chips are updated regularly, then?”

  “Exactly.”

  Wolfe was getting tired of hearing himself doing the wide-eyed reporter act, but he knew he was getting what he needed to get to the bottom of this situation. He still felt like there was something missing, a trick of some kind.

  “Well, I am just astounded, Mr. Kronos. It’s just amazing what you’ve been able to accomplish here. These are quantum leaps in technology and medicine the Western world wouldn’t reach for a hundred years otherwise.”

  Rik Kronos smiled, “We haven’t even started the tour yet.”

  Kronos and Gretchen accompanied Wolfe and Taylor to an elevator. Once all were on board, Kronos pulled out a key, put it in a keyhole below the buttons, and turned it. A mechanized voice said “Genetic Laboratory,” and the elevator went down about ten floors, by Wolfe’s guess.

  The doors opened directly into a cavernous room, not unlike the subterranean farm sites they had seen earlier, except only the front hundred feet was well lit. There were a few operating tables and some medical equipment off to the left, but the other three quarters of the lab was made up of computer equipment: column after column of 20-foot-tall towers containing an untold number of servers each. There had to be thousands of them. Near the front to the right, opposite the medical stations, there were 20 workstations neatly arranged, but there were only two people working there at the time.