The Hands We're Given

by O E Tearmann

  Awkwardly, Kevin set down his tab, feeling his rush of enthusiasm drain away. "I understand it's not everyone's interest, the hist vids. Really, I just came in for some downtime. Put on any old thing." Uncomfortably, he pulled off his glasses, cleaning them with the kerchief from his breast pocket. To his utter disgust, he could feel a blush staining his high cheekbones. Of all times.

  Aidan's voice was quiet when he spoke. "Actually, I think the hist vid would be interesting. Uh, if you don't mind."

  Kevin glanced up, blinked nearsightedly, and slipped his glasses back on with a half-smile.

  "Um, sure."

  Lifting his tab, he keyed in the vid. The blue flag and its yellow circle of stars came up on the screen, followed by the three bold letters inside their boxes.

  "Health. It has been the preoccupation of humanity since our inception."

  Kevin felt his body relax as the British-accented voice washed over him. A British accent had always relaxed him. His mother had been a British citizen, and the one thing she'd absolutely refused to give up was the BBC.

  Their family had paid premium fees to keep her dual citizenship and get an international media subscription when he'd been small, and his father had splurged on a hacker's services to unlock the programs that Cavanaugh Corporation had blocked. It had been worth every penny. Watching these programs after school with his parents had been how Kevin had gotten his real historical education.

  The beginning of the vid ran through ancient history, through the archaic medical techniques of the World Wars, the appalling medicine and the advances discovered in the Middle Eastern Conflicts and into the discovery of CRISPR that kindled the era of personalized medicine. Kevin's face set as images of old America flicked on the screen.

  "The issue of genetically-tailored medicine caused the final collapse of the former United States' democratic bodies known as the House and Senate. Periodically gridlocked for decades on issues as varied as the funding of education, the management of civil defense and the laws governing immigration, the United States Senate and House had suffered from inaction and an increasing rate of assassinations on members throughout the twenty-first century. Research today suggests that shootings early in the twenty first century were committed by unstable and disgruntled members of the public. But as the act became normalized, some American corporations began to disguise politically-motivated killings as the actions of the populace."

  Kevin's fists clenched in his lap as the vid went on.

  "During this time there had been numerous failures to pass national budgets due to partisan in-fighting between the two major parties in existence, often concerned with the funding of medical aid and the lawfulness of many health services in the country. These led to government shutdowns of ever-increasing duration. In 2065, the government failed to agree on a budget for over eleven months. By the time a weak bill was passed, the country had descended into the chaos known as the Dissolution."

  On the screen, images of the Dissolution flicked by in a bloody montage of destruction and hopelessness.

  "In a widely-publicized attempt to restore order, the company then known as Eagle Security Services erected fences around several suburbs in Illinois and began to police them in exchange for direct taxation. Other large firms and corporations did the same for their employees. In exchange for safety, employees and residents of a patrolled area were asked to sign contracts with these new entities. Privately-owned businesses following the philosophies of each founder and board of trustees soon bought up most resources," the host continued implacably over images of gated communities and EagleCorp office buildings, "until America became, over the course of the next ten years, the country we know today. Seven main Corporations eventually monopolized every facet of American life and now run them according to seven separate sets of guiding principles. Far from its egalitarian roots, America has become one of the world's strongest warnings against the abuses of human rights. Asylum seekers regularly arrive today in Canada, travelling overland, or on the shores of Europe and Japan in stolen boats and hidden in the cargo bays of planes. They embark on harrowing journeys, fleeing the corporations who seek to punish those with genetic 'flaws' and lifestyles deemed unacceptable by the specific Corporation they are indentured to. In the year 2100, the United Nations revoked the right of the United Corporations Of America to sit on the Council. The CEO of Cavanaugh Corporation had publicly allocated funds to find the genes responsible for homosexuality in order to add the gene cluster to the list of undesirable traits to be edited out of the genomes of future children. In recent years, there were signs that Cavanaugh might be taking a more humanitarian route, but in the wake of the deaths of Mr. Craydon, the progressively-leaning hereditary CEO of Cavanaugh Corporation, and his family, Cavanaugh has strengthened its adherence to their stated eugenic goals. The deaths of the Craydon family are believed by reputable sources to have been an internal Corporate assassination. Many international bodies do not condone their actions, but Cavanaugh Corporation holds the patents on most major breakthroughs in medicine including-"

  The screen flicked out of existence. Standing sharply, Kevin set aside his tab and crossed the room, grabbed up the darts and began to throw them with mechanical precision.

  Thunk.

  Bad enough Cavanaugh Corporation had incentivized people to decide what human perfection looked like, discard what didn't fit their picture and shape their children's bodies accordingly. Shape him accordingly. Decided for him how tall he was. How much collagen was in his joints. Bad enough they'd shaped his bone structure. Bad enough they'd decided what his skin color should be and adjusted him to suit their standards.

  Thunk.

  Bad enough that they'd decided they knew what 'perfect' looked like and shaped him to match. Bad enough they discarded anyone who didn't match their goddamn standards like defective parts off an assembly line.

  Bad enough that they'd planned his life out for him while he was still in the womb.

  Thunk.

  But, if his parents had let them, they would have done even more. They had decided what human perfection behaved like as well. They would have reached inside his mind and shaped who and what he was, decided for him who and what he would want.

  His parents were the reason he had his own mind. His parents had held onto what they believed. They'd stood up for those beliefs. They'd tried to change the Corporation for the better.

  Thunk.

  Which was why they were dead.

  Thunk.

  Behind him, the couch groaned as Aidan stood. "Um…"

  Kevin kept his eyes trained on the board. The center of the bull's-eye was full. He aimed the next four at the inner circle.

  Thunk.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Fine, sir," Kevin replied shortly. Stepping forward in three strides, he yanked the darts out of the board.

  "Because you look pissed as hell…"

  "Sorry, sir," Kevin replied, wishing with every fiber of his being that the man would leave him alone to get himself under control. "Just had enough for one night. Only so much I can take."

  "Of the Corps?" Aidan's soft voice asked behind him. Kevin stepped back, took aim.

  "Among other things, sir."

  Thunk.

  Thunk.

  "Kevin? My name's Aidan. And I need to know what's going on with you."

  Kevin dropped his eyes, staring at the darts clutched in his hand. "It isn't easy hearing yourself described as an undesirable element in need of editing out of existence." The words came out with clipped precision. "I wasn't expecting it tonight. Wasn't prepared. Apologies." For a moment, he closed his eyes. Even telling this much of the truth might have unpleasant consequences, but he had to say something at this point. The whole truth most certainly wasn't an option.

  "I'm of the Grecian persuasion, if we're being polite," he stated quietly.


  The soft intake of breath seemed amplified in the room's quiet. He glanced up with a storm in his grey eyes, ready to face his new commander's reaction.

  "It's not something that affects my duties," he added, hearing the sharp note in his own voice.

  "No," Aidan replied, his voice unexpectedly gentle. "I don't expect it would."

  Kevin held his eyes. "Is this going to be a problem, sir?" he asked, wearing his polite mask like armor. He could feel his body tensing. If this man took issue as Commander Quinn had… Well. They'd dealt with Quinn. But if they rejected another commander then Sector would-

  Aidan gave a startled laugh, making Kevin blink as a baffled half-grin enlivened the man's face. "Wait, you thought I was going to… Look, Kevin, I seriously don't give a damn who my crew sleeps with as long as it doesn't cause issues. I don't want domestic disputes in the field, that's all."

  Kevin felt every muscle in his body relax, his knees weakening for a moment. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to smile. "Thank you, sir- Aidan. Thanks. And sorry about that. Just now."

  Aidan shrugged, shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking at the dart board. "'Grecian persuasion," he muttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "I like that. Might use it sometime, if I can."

  This time, Kevin was the one who sucked in a breath, his brain stalling. Realization and mortification hit him like a tidal wave. Of all the people to lose it on, he had to take his anger out on someone who was dealing with the same problem. Idiot!

  He pulled his glasses off, polishing them industriously rather than look the other man in the eye. "It's rather a nicer phrase than what I… than what we usually have to contend with," he managed, holding his glasses up to the light once, twice, checking for blemishes on the glass.

  "I've heard a few," Aidan agreed. "Not in a while, though. And it's not… I don't want it to be an issue here. We've got enough going on."

  Kevin nodded. "It won't be a problem among the Wildcards. You know about Yvonne and Sarah, and there's me, and there's Blake. The rest of the base has always been very genial about it. Live and let live's our motto around here." Eyes on the blurry outline of his glasses, he smirked. "Well. It's actually phrased as 'it's my life, not yours, so butt out.'"

  For a moment, the room was so quiet that Kevin could hear the sound of cloth squeaking on plastic. Then his new commander sucked in a breath.

  "Good. Great. Thanks"

  Slipping his glasses back on, Kevin forced a smile. "Look. I owe you for the way I acted just now. Let me introduce you to something more congenial. Ever watched this classic movie Shrek?"

  Event File 16

  File Tag: Expertise

  Timestamp:05:00-4-9-2155

  It was well before dawn when Kevin checked his coding work and put in his contacts. He pulled on his Grid quality outfit, tucked his tab and his ID cards into his back pocket and slid on his riding gear over it all. Stepping down the hall, he knocked quietly on a door. "Yve? Time."

  Yvonne stepped out on silent feet, dressed for the ride and pale-faced in the dim orange night-cycle lights. "We good?" she asked, closing the door on her sleeping wife.

  Kevin nodded once, gave her a quick thumbs up and a smile.

  Wary of waking their base mates, the two members of the logistics division walked silent down the hall, pulling on their slick ponchos, helmets and gloves in the engine-lubricant scented gloom of the garage. They kicked their engines to life once they were outside and took off.

  They raced dawn down the long plateau, paralleling the I-70 Corridor as the highway grew from four-lane to six-lane, then eight. Stopping at a long-term storage garage on the outskirts of the Central Grid, they entered their forged Citizen Cards at the gate. The gate system dinged, displaying the readout: 'Now cleared for access to Storage Space 41B.'

  They rode up the ramp to the fourth floor, stowed their bikes and riding gear in the storage space that had opened for them, checked each other over and extricated the little Go car that Sector had given them the access info to.

  "Welcome, Jim!" the car chirped blithely as Kevin inserted his Citizen Card and let the car scan what it thought was his retina. He shot Yvonne a quick grin as she took the seat across from him in the upholstered bubble on wheels, pressing a grey box into the center of the console. The sound wave modulator plugged into the car's sound system, its codes finding every sound detection apparatus in the car and feeding them the sounds of music, pop-ups and occasional sounds of breathing, coughing or a sneeze. The devices were illegal, of course, but what wasn't.

  "A pair of contacts and a little code does the trick," Kevin remarked once the blue light flicked on in the grey casing of the sound box. "Perhaps you'll stop insulting my eyewear now?"

  Yvonne rolled her eyes at the old joke as the car slid smoothly out of its storage cubby and hissed down the exit ramp.

  "Anybody can wear contacts, show-off," she muttered, running her eyes around the space with the beginnings of a grin. "Hey, we got lucky. Look at this baby! Gotta be CSS Level at least!"

  "Nice enough," Kevin agreed offhandedly. "Check and see if there's a wet bar. We can celebrate on the way back home if so."

  Yvonne brought up the amenities tab on the car's HUD and grinned. "Rum, bourbon and something called… cog-nak?"

  "Cognac," Kevin corrected with relish, his eyes lighting up. "Now, that I'm looking forward to. You'll love it. If we didn't need to leave this car as we found it I'd take the bottle home with us."

  "If we're supposed to do that, we kinda shouldn't drink it," Yvonne suggested with a smirk.

  Catching her eyes, Kevin leaned back in his seat with an elaborate shrug. "I'm not above adding a little water to the bottle. I doubt our friend 'Jim' will notice."

  Yvonne grinned as the Go car joined the main traffic into Denver Central. "So where're we headed?" Yvonne asked as she eased back into the comfort of someone else's cushioned seat for the ride.

  Kevin tipped his head at the Go car's windshield, where the virtual map of their progress was playing out in real-time. "Down onto Sixteenth for the hardware, and then up into Commerce City."

  Yvonne pulled a face. "Again?"

  "I want to check in with Jazz about any new codes she might have on hand. That last one gave us an editing card solid enough to get me into the Sunshine system we've been banging our heads against for more than two years." Kevin smiled dryly. "At this rate, perhaps we should simply subcontract our coding out to her organization. She's getting surprisingly good."

  Yvonne gave him a level stare. "Subcontract. You're joking, right?"

  Kevin returned the expression with interest, one brow raised, and Yvonne waved a dismissive hand.

  "Okay, okay, I just hate that area, I-"

  "Jim, while you are on your way, would you like to stop for a macchiato? They have a sale today. Macchiatos for only 17.95."

  "Gah!" Yvonne yelped as their HUD flashed with the advertisement for the coffee chain and the voice filled the car.

  Kevin grinned. "You'll never adjust to pop-ups will you?"

  Yvonne sighed, glaring at the hologram as Kevin reached over and swiped left to decline, then hit the inevitable 'are you sure' prompt.

  "I don't care about the ones on the street," Yvonne defended in a mutter. "It's the ones that go off when it's quiet that get to me. Can you at least hit the mute?"

  Kevin checked the vehicle settings as the car drove placidly along its lane, bracketed by other cars doing the same. "No, unfortunately. I can turn down the sound, but it looks like Jim preferred his drinks to his peace. It's one of the cheaper systems. Can't block the ads."

  "Crap." Yvonne sighed, leaning back in her seat. Kevin glanced at their readouts. "We've only got six miles to go, only half an hour."

  Yvonne shrugged, then winced as another pop-up flashed on the screen. Kevin dismissed it. In the momentary quiet, Yvonne glanced at h
im, worry in her rain-colored eyes.

  "Did Laz ever apologize to you?"

  "I doubt he feels it's his duty to apologize to me on any subject," Kevin demurred, looking out the window at the buildings crawling past. He listened to Yvonne sigh.

  "Kev."

  For a moment, the silence stretched out. Kevin considered his options. At this point nothing he said would really help. He knew she worried about him and her cousin both, and nothing he said was going to repair that. Better to get her mind off it.

  "This'll help block out the pop-ups," he announced eventually, digging in his pocket for his tab. He didn't dare plug his secured and unregistered device into the car in order to use the speakers, but he set it on the dash and brought up his music program. Poppy synthesizer filled the car as Men At Work's 'Snakes And Ladders' started, and Kevin smiled thinly. Fitting, given their surroundings.

  His smile grew genuine at Yvonne's groan.

  "Oh I am seriously not spending half an hour listening to your weird oldies!"

  "You've got no taste!" he retorted in mock affront, grinning at his friend's dismay. Problem solved. The rest of the ride would be spent bickering over music. Given the options, not a bad outcome.

  "You have arrived," the car chirped, and the doors popped open in the frosted glass cubicle of their parking spot. Stepping out, Kevin braced himself.

  "Hi there, Jim and Caroline!" the painfully cheerful voice of the hologram set his teeth on edge as it flowed out of its inlaid generators in the glass, spraying color across the adjacent panels and displaying a cheerful blonde in a business suit in front of them. "Welcome to the historic Sixteenth Street Outdoor Esplanade. We're happy to have you today!"

  "I hate these things," Yvonne muttered, and Kevin shot her a warning look. They might have the registrations and Citizen Standing clearances to turn off the cubicle cameras on entry, but there could easily be audio bugs in the cubicle. Chattering right now was a bad idea.