Digital Venous

by Richard Gohl

  “Miss, why do they all look the same?”

  “We’ll get to that later. But right now we’re going to look at some of the history and science behind N.E.T.—and Ryan stop me at any point to correct me. OK?” she smiled softly at Ryan and he nodded.

  Claire turned on a machine that projected huge words onto a screen at the edge of the dome. “N.E.T.: Nano Enzyme Therapy.”

  Claire spoke to the class. “N.E.T. was in trial mode before the holocaust. Does anyone know what caused the holocaust?

  “The Napeans?” said Dieter, one of the more attention-seeking boys. There was a burst of sniggers as many turned to look at Ryan’s reaction to the slur.

  “No,” said Claire, unfazed. “The sun burnt a hole through the planet’s atmosphere, killing many and making living on the surface, and of course food production, impossible. N.E.T. replaced their need for food. The body was fooled into thinking it was receiving nutrition—meaning that eating was no longer necessary.” Claire paused and looked around the room.

  She continued. “Life was also extended by N.E.T. cellular decay. Viruses and disease became things of the past.” She paused again, letting it all sink in, and then posed the question:

  “Is it true that all Napeans look the same? Dieter?”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “Incorrect. You must have only ever looked at the males, Dieter, because women are different.” More sniggers. Claire knew the joke would quiet him down for a while. She continued.

  “When NET was trialed at the turn of the twenty-second century, scientists understood the specific needs of each part of the body thoroughly and completely, right down to a cellular level—but the minute differences between each person were so huge that they could only develop therapy for one human body.” Claire saw a hand raised.

  A girl sitting in the third row asked, “Whose body did they use—and is he still alive?”

  “Good questions, Davina. The first I can answer: the Napean man on whom all others were built was a thin, six-foot, twenty-year-old computer programmer from Shanghai. As to whether he is alive today, I don’t know.”

  A ripple of whispers went around the class. Davina also asked: “And who was the female?”

  Claire read from her notes: “The female cells were taken from an average-sized twenty-seven-year-old doctor, originally from Tel Aviv.” Again, this information caused a degree of excitement across the open space.

  “Where’s Tel Aviv?” Again it was the boy, Dieter. Everyone laughed. Even Ryan smiled. Dieter quite enjoyed the attention of being the fool.

  “Not such a silly question, Dieter, considering it doesn’t exist anymore.” The boy looked from side to side, nodding his head receiving imaginary accolades.

  “Tel Aviv was the capital city of Israel, wiped out in the CME some two hundred and seventy years ago.”

  “Miss?” asked Dieter.

  “Yes.”

  “Will Ryan turn into a Chinaman?” Many of the students laughed behind hands and some again looked around to see the Napean boy’s reaction.

  “Racist words like that are a thing of the past. We live in a post-apocalyptic mélange of different peoples…”

  “A poster of who?” asked Dieter.

  “Don’t worry too much; we haven’t done that topic yet. As I was saying, genetically, Ryan’s genes stay the same but will be masked by those of an Asian male, yes. Of course, all humans have almost exactly the same genes anyway….” The teacher moved through the class and stood behind them before continuing.

  “I’ll wait until there’s silence. Thank you. So to conclude, these were the original two people from which all other Napeans were created. There was nothing special about them other than that they were both extremely healthy, intelligent, physically fit people who happened to be available at the time.” The students gazed at the images of the Napean male and female.

  “So N.E.T. was only developed to treat two people. To take the therapy you had to become one of those two people—to fit the treatment. Get out your pencil and write down these final concepts, please:

  1. Over time as trojan lattice DNA invaded each cell nucleus, covering the real nucleus, people turned into the clone male or female. N.E.T. allowed the body to operate using the cloned cells and the nano-enzymes. To answer your question, Donna, a process called pluripotent stem cell fusion covered peoples’ genetic differences. Entire enzyme renewal treatment for these cloned cells was readily available because embryo cloning had become widely practiced.

  2. Nano cells then delivered unipotent stem cell enzymes to the many and various locations in the body, creating organs that appeared to stay locked in one developmental phase. That’s why everybody looks the same and stays the same!

  For instance, geneticists could see the DNA plan for a liver and make one. Once they had done this, they could supply that particular liver with a constant supply of enzymes to keep it in a state of regrowth, renewal, similar to what ordinary cells do but without the inbuilt decay.

  To keep a body supplied with enzyme, nano cells swim around in the ‘blood’ and deliver the appropriate chemical to the desired site. What we don’t know is the level to which, each month, plasma is cleaned and new nano-enzyme therapy cells are infused.

  Ryan put up his hand. “Ryan?” Claire asked.

  “Our blood gets refreshed every month. It comes through Telesync.”

  “Can you explain more?” asked Claire.

  “My dad explained it to me. There is one cycle per month. The body works best if it goes through a period of starvation and then feeding. Over… er… thirty days, the body goes through one hunger cycle. Every thirty days the Service generates the fresh stuff.”

  “Wow! Thank you, Ryan! And for you how will this happen?”

  “I don’t know how well I can pick up Telesync from down here…” Davina couldn’t help herself, and blurted out, “Could you die?”

  “My dad said it wasn’t known for sure what would happen if a Napean tried to become real again. I can eat small amounts, so I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Again the children of the class seemed to find a lot to say about this. They began busily chatting to each other.

  Claire’s voice penetrated the noise: “Thank you! Thank you, everyone. Ryan, you’ve been amazing in sharing such personal information with us here today—give him a round of applause, please, everyone!” As the clapping died down, Claire added, “Tomorrow, Ryan has agreed to speak a little more about his life in Napea, how he survived, and what he hopes to achieve in the future.”

  From off to the side Ryan heard a student say, “Freakshow!” He ignored it, just glad that the lesson was over, intending to cancel his “speech” tomorrow. He looked around the dome and with great relief saw that Madi waiting for him over at the roadway. No one would ever touch him with her around. As he stood to leave, Claire came up to him and said, “Today was fantastic for everyone in this room, including me. Thank you! And sorry about the rudeness of some of my students.”

  Ryan smiled. “That’s okay.”

  “Are you actually hungry?”

  “No, I tried to eat at Ginny’s but… my throat just seems to be closed.” Madi came across. “How’s the star attraction?”

  “What’s going to happen with the cell refreshment?” Claire asked the question of both of them.

  “We have until next week,” said Madi.

  Mark Luhrman stood on the mezzanine level of nearby bar, listening and watching…

  Chapter 36

  Suspicion

  THE NIGHT AFTER the meeting, Wez met with Mark at a small bar. He wanted to apologize for excluding him from the group. Mark said he understood.

  “Actually,” said Mark nonchalantly, “I bumped into one of the team leaders from Blackwood gate. He offered me a place on the team last night—just a couple of days’ work.”

  Mark explained to Wez that he needed the money to excavate his own place. “I want to settle in this area,” said Mark. “S
tart a new life.”

  “Private excavation? Expensive,” said Wez. “Where I am there are spare rooms—apply to the co-op and you can take one, even two.”

  “Okay, yeah, thanks. But I still need the money and I’ve booked two days’ work.”

  “What, you got SCID?”

  “Yeah, yeah…” Mark lifted his sleeve showing the scar where the ID tag had been inserted. A faint outline of the metal could be seen under the skin. Mark continued, “I’ve done total of probably three months’ work up there in building. They only ever give you two days at a time. They don’t like anyone to become too familiar with the scenery.”

  “Is that thing, like, permanently inserted or…?”

  “Oh yeah, has to be,” he lied.

  “We’ll catch up with you when you get back.”

  Wez was sure Mark was genuine. But Madi had planted that seed of suspicion. Wez had a friend of his own in that Blackwood gate group.

  I’ll ask Tong to keep an eye on him up there, he thought.

  Once in through Blackwood gate, into Napea, Mark pretended to march to the work site with all the others but managed to stay at the rear and slip away unseen—at least by the other workers. Two of the guards were in Shane’s pocket.

  It was not difficult for Mark to pass through Napea. There was a fifteen-minute walk before he met Shane in his office.

  “So what’s the news?” asked Shane, straight to the point.

  “I fluked it. Literally bumped into them. I very nearly got punched out by the… head honcho Amazon herself! Her name is Alia Borovski. Bokovski? I’ll have to check that. I saw her deck this guy I’d been talking to in the bar. Wow. She was something else. The guy was drunk, was being abusive, and she just slapped him into submission.”

  “Don’t get too fond of her. Keep going.”

  “They very nearly let me walk straight in. I’m not sure how many of them there are but you were right—they are mainly females. I’ve become close to the one guy in the group, Wez Carter. They call him fruitbat—wears little round eyeglasses, has these two front teeth… you know him anyway, right?”

  “Mhm,” Shane acknowledged, sitting back in his large chair.

  Mark continued, “There seems to be a crescendo of energy in the group—I could sense it in the way Wez was talking. He so wanted to involve me but the others wouldn’t buy it.”

  “You did all right.”

  “I get the feeling they’re planning something. There was a serious meeting and…”

  “Where was the meeting?” asked Shane.

  “Again, you were right. Blackwood.”

  “Where in Blackwood.”

  “I don’t know. The other females apparently got spooked and wouldn’t let me come. The meeting was to decide their next move,” said Mark.

  “So you have no idea what that’s going to be?”

  “No. They have been getting information from somewhere; that’s the driving force behind it all. We know roughly where they meet, and that it’s predominantly a female group.” Shane was thinking. Mark popped the question: “So when can I start my treatment?”

  “Let’s hold off for a few weeks—you don’t want to just disappear now and create a big drama. You’re so close. It sounds like they’re about to let you enter the inner sanctum. If you pull this off, you’ll be set up for life.”

  That night Wez met his friend, Tong, another real worker on the Blackwood crew who informed him that Mark had been rostered to work on buildings in a central sector of Napea called Australiana. A very wealthy group of Napeans was responsible for building ginormous apartments in the shapes of long-extinct native animals. Updates and upgrades, both inside and out, seemed to be forever underway—Mark had been due to work there for the day, had arrived, but then had disappeared for a few hours. Wez’s informant pointed out that this was not completely unheard of—workers did do it, (Some guards seemed to turn a blind eye to it) and when Mark slipped back into the working group later that day apparently no-one seemed to notice, not even the guards.

  “Any idea where he went?” asked Wez

  ‘Nah, too busy working on this giant crocodile. Bloody Napeans,” said Tong. Wez said. “Did he seem to know anyone else on the team?”

  “Nope, didn’t speak to anyone.”

  “Who’s the team leader of the Blackwood group?”

  “There isn’t one,” answered Tong.

  Wez put his head in his hands as he started to feel heat tingling through his temples. The informant asked: “Who is he?”

  “That’s just the problem—I’ve got no idea.”

  Mark had to swallow his pride and admit to the girls that afternoon that he had been mistaken; there was something wrong with Mark Luhrman. He told them the little he knew.

  “He’s definitely up to something,” said Bes.

  “Sounds dodgy,” said Madi, trying so hard not to say: ‘I told you so.’

  “Hang on,” said Claire, “did you bring him here on Thursday night—to the front door?”

  “No he waited at the pub.”

  They all breathed a collective “whew.”

  Alia produced the definitive idea: “Right well that’s it; we have no alternative—but before we do that we find out who he’s connected to.”

  Wez was feeling shattered with exhaustion from worrying about the whole thing. He could hardly compose a sentence. “What if he’s connected to someone extremely… extreme,” said Wez.

  “It’s up to you now,” said Alia. “Make it right. Play along—bring him here tonight. We’ll do the rest.”

  Chapter 37

  Caught Out

  CATCHING MARK WAS easy—he was not a violent man and had no idea he was under surveillance. They led him on with a “screening” with Alia and Madi, then later an invitation to the next meeting. On the day of the meeting, they arranged for him to meet Wez at a small bar and made him wait. Bes sat near-by observing him making sure he was not communicating with anyone else. When it was clear he was alone, Wez turned up, greeted him cheerfully and led him across to the women’s house.

  They knocked on the door and as Alia opened it Madi said “Hi” with a big smile and hand extended, pulling him down to the ground where he was pinned to the floor with his arms behind his back.

  It was strange for Wez to see this person who he had believed to be a friend, suddenly lying on the floor. He felt the need for an explanation. “Sorry mate. You haven’t been honest with me. You’ve been involved with the Napeans. Time to talk.”

  “Who were you reporting to up there?” demanded Alia.

  “I wasn’t, not reporting, I’m a smuggler. I bring stuff in and out of Napea, medical stuff mainly.”

  “What do you take in?” said Alia “Porn mainly,” said Mark.

  “Oh that’s very medical! Porn!” said Bes. Claire exhaled loudly in disgust.

  “You dirty barstard,” said Madi, leaving a perfectly timed pause before asking “What type of porn?”

  Alia was furious. “Nice try. But Napeans don’t watch porn—they don’t need to! Their whole lives are a series of pornographic fantasies!”

  “Okay… call me a liar,” said Mark stubbornly.

  “I am!” said Alia, close to him now. “Now tell me”—she slapped him across the face—“who”—she slapped him on the other side—“you work for!” Her third slap coincided with the word “work.” Mark puffed and blinked. Alia hadn’t lost any air, speaking in a level voice. “Tell us what you were really doing or we will be forced to kill. You’re too great a risk—not just for us, but for all real people.” He wasn’t being non-cooperative—he was just stunned. Alia didn’t see this as being a factor.

  “Madi, grab the eyes out of the fridge.” Madi brought in exhibit A and B frozen in a bowl. “This is what happened to the last Napeans who weren’t willing to support our cause.

  Recognize those eyes?”

  “All right!” he finally blurted out. “I’ve been bribed by a guard, a captain. He knows about you guy
s. If you let me go I’ll feed him some false information and you can relocate…” Mark rested his head hopelessly on the floor. “For some reason everyone wants to kill me.” Mark was trying to evoke some sympathy. It backfired.

  “That’s because you’re a fucking traitor!” said Madi. “To your own people,” confirmed Alia.

  “It’s very sad.” Bes feigned emotion.

  “Well, he’s not going to tell us… and he’s a huge liability,” said Claire.

  “He’s also got a SCID on his arm—at least, that’s what he said it was. They can also be used as a tracking device.”

  “Cut it out of his arm now,” said Alia. Mark lost his cool. His eyes darted from one person to the next, searching for some sign of humanity. There wasn’t any.

  “Scalpel,” said Madi, with her hand extended towards Bes in anticipation. “Oh, not this again,” said Bes. “It’s messy.”

  “Wait! Please!” Mark hissed. “It just slides out.” Mark looked at Wez, who just shook his head. “Please. Untie my hands and you can have it.”

  “Don’t untie his hands,” said Claire. “It’s too risky. I don’t trust him.”

  “Are you serious?” said Madi. “I mean, look at him…” Face down on the floor, disheveled; Luhrman was more worm-like than usual.

  “Okay. Let him take it out,” said Alia. They cut the plastic tie around his wrist. Mark sat up rubbing his wrists. He gouged his thumb under the back end of the tag on the inside of his left wrist and with his index finger lifted a flap of skin at the front. It popped out.

  “Gross,” said Madi, smiling.

  “Okay, we need to hide that thing. Get rid of it,” said Alia irritably. “Not here. Stash it out on the street somewhere. We may need it later.”

  “Madi?” Ryan’s high-pitched voice came from down the passage. “What are you doing?”

  “Everything’s fine, darling, we’re just having a little meeting—you keep on with your game down there.” Although Ryan had experienced the latest in high-tech virtual games in Napea, he got just as much pleasure from the screen—style games he had been playing down in the real world even though they were some fifty years old.