Digital Venous

by Richard Gohl

  “Don’t get too close Wing—be ‘one of them’ sure,” Jeffery said, indicating quotation marks with his fingers, “but when the time comes for disembarkation we must be focused.”

  “On what?” asked Shane, “What is actually going to happen?”

  “The first carrier will take 200 Subs to an area we know to be some form of heath or savannah and start unloading settlement machinery and building materials.”

  “You’re going to need a balance of us and them on that first carrier,” said Shane. “You know as well as I that the best operators of Lunatex equipment are on the Subs’ A

  deck. They go down first and get started,” said Jeffery.

  “That’s why many of them were selected remember?” said Pato. “A-list will be published just prior to landing…”

  “It will be quite prestigious!” Pato was excited.

  “Really?” said Shane unconvinced. “What if they don’t want to go first?”

  “There won’t be a choice,” said Jeffery.

  There was a pause.

  “…so you plan to bring the old prejudices to the new world.” asked Shane. His direct sarcasm hit the mark. Jeffery was annoyed.

  “You see this is precisely why decisions are made by an informed few.” He out-turned his palms to include Pato and Magellan. “We’re trying to involve you in the process but there is no place for panic.”

  “Is this the only reason you brought them? As alien bait?” said Shane remaining placid. “Alien bait!” said Jeffery looking at Pato . They both laughed fruity “ho, ho, ho” style

  laughs. When Jeffery had won his breath back he continued: “Subs represent our future, there are many reasons why they had to be a part of this…”

  “… like a control group.” Added Pato.

  “not so much a control group …” said Jeffery, eyes widening, at Pato then at the others in their turn.

  “Reasons?” asked Shane imagining Ryan being attacked by a giant triffid. “Reasons suchnas?”

  “More questions?” said Jeffery feigning laughter. “We’ve thought about all this, planned it out so that people like you could just get on with doing what you do best.”

  Shane ignored the remark. “Have you trained them, prepared them in any way?”

  “You don’t need to be trained to fly or land an orbital troop carrier—it’s fully automated,” said Pato.

  “Anyway,” cut in Jeffery, “decisions need to be made—we are in charge of that. You’ve been given your answers.”

  Shane had made up his mind about what he was going to do. He started to walk out. “Just one more thing, Wing?” Jeffery grinned.

  Shane was too disgusted to respond.

  “We need to minimize their alcohol consumption—we don’t want a bunch of inebriated impotents as envoys to our new planet,” Said Jeffery, “and a reminder: tonight is renewal signal night—and all Napeans will be refreshed, signal going out at ten. So make sure all Subs are locked down at 9. We don’t want any surprises.”

  “All I can say is that you better get some Napeans on that first drop or your peaceful little run may come to an end. You supervise them for two years and then suddenly say, ‘Now you’re going out—all by yourselves—onto an alien planet!’? It won’t work.”

  “You do seem very… protective of them,” said Magellan. “What happened when you were taken by them?” asked Jeffery. “You understood their struggle?” said Pato.

  “No, none of that. It’s about the future we need to be sharing risks. Burdens,” said Shane. “That’s true,” said Magellan. “But there’s an issue of trust that makes them a risk. The

  past weighs heavily on some and revenge is, despite what you say, a means of dealing with it.”

  “You should talk more often—you’ve really got a way with words,” said Shane.

  “I was just waiting for the intelligent part of the conversation to begin before I joined in,” said Magellan.

  “All I’m saying,” said Shane finally, “is that there’s an opportunity here—over one hundred years of violence. Bury the hatchet...” Shane turned his back and walked out, thinking how hard it was to know whether or not anything he had said would make any difference.

  Chapter 59

  The Weapon

  DESPITE FULLY UTILIZING his personal facilities—bathing, external networking, mind-washing and physical strengthening unit—Shane still had trouble sleeping that night. He thought about visiting Ryan and Alia, but was worried that Ryan might see through to what was worrying him.

  He and Ryan had communicated earlier in the day. The boy seemed genuinely happy—but then, Ryan had turned out to be a social child and, surrounded by the air of positivity present among the real people, he was enjoying other children and adults alike. He had never been the type of child to complain or to ask for things he couldn’t have.

  At midnight Shane went back up to the Service deck—he was allowed past a number of guards at various stations, and finally his iris was scanned and he entered the Service level.

  None of the officials were sleeping. Magellan was performing a time scan, looking eight days into the past to where the last known position of Laos, Tokyo, or Seoul fleets had been recorded. The telescope was so powerful that it could lock in on a distant position, and the lens could perform a reverse automatic focus. It would reverse zoom and then lock and focus on any object not in an orbit. The chance of finding them this way was remote, but worth trying. It was like a night search for a small boat on the ocean, using a flashlight that could shine for a thousand miles.

  Jeffery was in the adjacent lab. Using a big screen he was watching himself perform some intricate operation using micro-gloves to manipulate the genetic material of some kind of cell. Pato was in the same lab but just sitting, possibly using the network—Shane couldn’t tell.

  Shane approached Magellan’s doorway. “Don’t you ever sleep?” asked Shane. “No, actually.”

  “That explains a lot. Maybe you should try it sometime.” Magellan replied: “You’re still worried about the landing?”

  “After all those years of Telesync you found out nothing more than that? Tell me the rest,” said Shane.

  “Okay,” said Magellan, the other two Service officials turned and looked. Magellan signaled to Pato and Jeffery with thumb and third finger, indicating to turn on their ETP. They knew what he was going to say.

  There is life down there—we had thousands of images come back. Six or so photos showed creatures—a group of three, followed by a another of twelve. And a later image of the same location showed them all to be gone. That’s all we know. They look to be wild animals similar in type to those that used to roam the Earth thousands of years ago.

  Shane: Thank you. Wild creatures? Like wolves or…?

  Magellan: Clarity not sufficient to tell. They were hunched over walking on four legs.

  An image appeared in Shane’s field of vision. He saw a green hillside, ancient Earth, he thought. As he studied the picture he noticed three small shapes in the bottom right corner—possibly in motion, walking forward; it was hard to tell. A second image showed the same location but without the hunched over, dark shapes. A third photo showed a group of twelve. Clearly the same type of animal—dark grey, some more a dark brown in color. Shane guessed they looked wolfish—but their legs were thicker, and their heads were not elongated, but more spherical in shape. The pictures were too grainy to see much more detail. Except that it was obvious that the animal slightly in front of the rest was standing on two legs.

  Shane: Aliens?

  Pato: Obviously.

  Magellan: But what you see there is all we know about them. They might actually just be out walking but normally drive vehicles and live in cities.

  Shane: You saw cities?

  Magellan: No. We saw grassland, forest, water—possibly fresh, possibly not…

  Pato: The point is, we just don’t know.

  Sensing Shane’s feeling of betrayal, Jeffery added: So that is why w
e have a defense system prepared. It is silent, it is directional, and it is very clean.

  Pato: It’ would have revolutionized conflict on Earth. We were given the formula just before we left. Santiago Service developed a whole new…

  Magellan: It’s very dangerous. We haven’t tested it, in the field… so to speak.

  Pato: But they did—it’s so simple…

  Magellan: … So destructive.

  Shane was fascinated by weapons. He couldn’t help asking, How does it work?

  Jeffery was amused: Oh no, this one’s strictly need-to-know.

  Shane’s disapproval was felt by all.

  Jeffery: It’s a means of backup. It destroys axon nerve fibre. Effective on anything evolved enough to have axon nerve fibre. Aggression and violence have a marked resonance. Its particular is picked up though a scanner, which then activates the frequency.

  Pato: Any creature with an intention to kill…

  Shane: isn’t that suicide? You yourself have an intention to kill! Can’t you just warn, threaten, and give us enough time to just run away?

  Jeffery: Your pacifism is misguided. At no time in history has a population moved in on foreign ground with a handshake and a smile.

  Magellan: It can be set to just pulse and paralyze—impulses which scramble synaptic messages. Like a stun gun.

  The four men moved into the central area of the Service deck, gravitating toward the front window of the ship. They all looked forward out into space.

  Magellan: So Shane, now you know everything and you know the people better than we do. What do we tell them?

  Shane: How long until we get there?

  Magellan: At this rate, fourteen months.

  Shane: Over a year! You guys could build your own planet by that time… Jeffery: Someone’s already done that for us—two perfect planets. Magellan: So what do we tell them?

  Shane: I’ll go down, as captain, as a leader, but you must show me the weapon. Shane inspired confidence in the Service officials. In regard to the Subs, he could do things and go places which were, to them, a mystery. They could never understand how Subs lived or what they thought—they didn’t even understand how Napeans lived their lives. It had never been their concern. It was because of this that their language of governance revolved around the pleasure principle for Napeans and threat management for Subs.

  Shane wondered how the aliens would respond.

  Chapter 60

  The Tooth

  IT WAS CLEAR to Alia, Madi, and the medico Sylvana that Ryan was becoming more real than Napean, but that he was benefitting from cell renewal downloads every month. He was eating regularly, if only in small quantities; he was effectively both real and Napean.

  He had sustained a growth spurt but his previous downhill slide towards tall Asian male had slowed and it seemed some of his original looks were becoming more prevalent.

  Five of them sat in Alia’s room.

  “Dad, you must eat too. Here, try this apple.”

  “I can’t swallow—I tried,” said Shane. “Tried what?”

  “I tried to swallow some water a few weeks back.”

  “What happened?” asked Ryan.

  “It wouldn’t go down.”

  “I had to try a few times before anything went down,” said Ryan. “The more you try the easier it gets each time. I can nearly eat anything now.”

  “I know you can…” said Shane. “I’m stronger too.”

  “I know you are…”

  “Here you go, then.” Ryan handed the apple to his dad. Shane looked at it, rubbed it up and down on his uniform a few times. Then, slowly, he brought the apple up to his mouth and “scrunch!” He took a bite.

  “Well done, Dad! You did it!” Ryan yelled.

  “Ryan, shhh!” said Madi. “Your dad’s not even s’posed to be in here!”

  “It’s okay,” he said, chewing. “Two guards are…wait,” he said, putting his finger in his mouth. “What the f—?.” He pulled out one of his lower teeth. It had cracked off on the apple.

  “Oh no! Dad!” said Ryan, concerned. “Oh no!” echoed Sylvana, smiling. “Whoops,” said Madi.

  “Maybe your teeth aren’t used to it,” said Alia.

  “Thanks for that free appraisal, Doctor Obvious. Do you do general check-ups as well?” laughed Madi.

  “Shut up!” said Alia. “Shane, are you okay?”

  “It’s fine…” said Shane, still shocked. “It’s been a while since I used them…”

  “Quick, grab a glass of beer to put it in,” said Madi.

  “You don’t put it in beer, you moron!” said Sylvana. “You’ll damage the nerves.”

  “You must put it in something,” said Alia, “so that…”

  “Milk,” said Sylvana. “Until we get it fitted in properly.” Shane was shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head slightly.

  “No, don’t worry,” he said. “A new one will grow back. I’ve done it before.”

  “Grow back? How?” said Sylvana.

  “When did you try and eat before?” said Ryan.

  “No. I’ve had my teeth knocked out a few times—by real people, mainly; once by another guard. I don’t know—it’s just technology. You bust something and it fixes itself or if it’s seriously busted, you can get a new one. Teeth grow back.”

  “I know. Mine grow back,” said Ryan. “The new ones are even better than the old ones!”

  “Well that’s different—they’re your baby teeth. I’m talking about adult teeth.”

  “So what happens?” asked Sylvana.

  “I’m not an expert, but there are different types of cells that are carried to different locations for healing. We have nano cells, which can sense something wrong with the integrity of the frame. For a tooth, unipotent cells are directed to the gum and a new version of what is supposed to be there is grown. It makes new teeth.”

  “How long will that take?” said Madi.

  “About three weeks.”

  “Here, Dad. I’ve chopped it up small for you—try a small piece.”

  “You are relentless!” He took a small piece of apple and carefully started chewing. “Check those guards again,” said Alia.

  As part of his new Iris network, he had a complete map of the ship and comrade radar. “Two guards are outside the Garden 11 bar. We’re fine.”

  “How did you get Ryan to become a Napean?” asked Sylvana.

  “He had an initial large dose of N.E.T., and then regular transfusions from me when he was small. That’s all you have to do.”

  “Can you do it with an adult?” asked Alia. “Yes, but it takes a lot longer.”

  “Fascinating,” said Sylvana.

  “Dad, are you going to come back tomorrow?” asked Ryan. “If I may.” Shane looked at Madi and then to Alia.

  “It’s fine with me,” said Madi. “We’ll have something nice and soft for you to eat.”

  “All right, then,” said Shane. He kissed a finger and touched Ryan’s head. “Goodnight.” As Shane walked out, Madi said to Ryan, “Bedtime.”

  “I love these beds,” he said, jumping onto his bunk. “Goodnight.” He pushed a small button near his overhead light switch and a faint shimmering luminescence shrouded the length of his bed, blocking noise and light. He soon fell asleep.

  “Are you okay?” said Madi to Alia. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

  “You just seem a little… slow, distracted… or something.”

  “Oh,” Alia said vaguely. “I just need a good…” Alia’s voice trailed off slightly. “You need a good night’s sleep, is what you’re trying to say…” Madi smiled. “I need a good night’s sleep,” agreed Alia. “I don’t think I’ve had one in years.”

  “I think you do too,” said Madi, smiling still.

  “We all do,” said Sylvana and laughed.

  Chapter 61

  The Sickness

  SHANE AND CHARLES worked together regularly and they often talked privately about Shane’s conversations with J, P, and
M. These conversations were valuable to Shane because Charles was naturally a “moderate,” and advocated deliberation and caution before action.

  So despite Shane’s new intimacy with Madi and Alia and the small meals they were regularly preparing for him, he had not passed on what he had learned about the settlement plans; why worry them when he was going to change those plans anyway? He was pretty sure how they would react if they found out they were scheduled to be used as guinea pigs on the new planet.

  Charles knew about Shane’s eating, and he had been kept up to date on Shane’s progress. Ryan, of course, had been the real pioneer, and continued healthy. But as Charles had been keen to point out, Shane had been a Napean for a very long time; his body may not be able to revert back to the ancient means of nutrition. However, even Charles had noticed that Shane had begun to revert back to an older version of his physical self. Only small things were noticeable: a lightening of the hair and eye color, the shape of the nose. Even his bones had started remembering the old code—from his shoulders to his chin, there were slight changes.

  The two Napean guards were working together. They had finished supervising a “dump run”—everybody now knew, of course, that such supervision was merely a formality, but likewise everyone had a role, and those roles seemed to work so were maintained.

  Unrecyclable waste was dumped every fifty hours. Various large mobile containers had to be moved and attached to evacuation vents, and unwanted material was jettisoned.

  As for real workers, three men and a woman maneuvered a waste vat into position,

  Charles climbed the three steps up to the control panel on the wall, which activated the suction facility. But he didn’t get that far. As he leaned into the step his whole body toppled forward; it was if his legs and arms had stiffened. It was all he could do to turn his head as the side of his face grazed across the top step. Shane leapt forward in an attempt to catch him but it all happened too quickly.

  The workers stopped what they were doing. Several of them moved over to help Charles regain his feet but for a few seconds he couldn’t move. Shane pulled on his arm. “Charles! You okay? C’mon, let’s get you up again…” But Charles just lay there staring down into the floor.