He Without Sin

by Hyde, Ed

  David wants to use me for direct contact with Al and Bee on a regular basis.

  He filled me in on what he’s trying to achieve. Although the native populations are essentially on the right track, some better, some worse, he thinks he sees a way to make a significant change for the better with just a few tweaks in their code. As he told me, Alpha is actually the offspring of modified parents. The modifications targeted brain function and capacity primarily, if I understood him right. Specifically, he altered code to match the template more closely as regards the related functions of speech, cognitive ability, and memory.

  Now, each of these assets blossoms through use and I have been tasked to mentally exercise Al and Bee as much as possible during the next years (due to their treatments, they will be around for several hundred years, barring accidents) and verify the coding has taken, so to speak. If it pans out as expected, David plans to let them procreate and build up a population that will eventually dominate.

  I am not comfortable at all with this plan, for any number of reasons.

  As far as the larger picture goes, David swears he only made small careful tweaks and that the result was verified by the analyzer as being closer to ideal. I need to talk to Carol about this. Doc would have strong opinions too. I already know what Grigor would say.

  Damage

  “I can’t do it,” I say to David. I can tell he’s shocked at such a black and white statement, especially from me. I have thought about his idea of working directly with Al and Bee—it’s not for me.

  “Alright, what’s the problem? What do you mean?” he replies. He puts down his genie and I can see the map app on the screen. Grigor or someone up at the ship has finally successfully deployed a handful of transceivers. It means any of us can now know precisely where we are on the planet and David can plot the locations of everybody on the ground. Should have been done long ago. David sits and kicks the other nearby chair over to me.

  I am little apprehensive since I fear triggering his ‘Mr. Means’ side, but somehow I don’t think it will pop up this time. I sit. The screen over this part of the bio camp work area is transparent, or nearly so. The blue sky is clear—it’s a beautiful day.

  “It’s just not me. I don’t have the training for it. My background…”

  “Yes, I know. Physics. The poetry of nature, as you once called it back at the Academy. Electronics is your primary field.” David closes his eyes and stretches his neck side to side, back and forth. “Jason, you were cross-trained on a number of disciplines for just this sort of reason. Was it not clear from the beginning that everyone would be asked to stretch their comfort zone?”

  “I don’t mind stretching; I just don’t want to stretch too far. You want and need real results. There must be someone else in the crew who can do this right. Look at Dylan…”

  “No, no, no. First, Dylan’s fine. Love ‘im. He can help you out, ok, that’s fine. He really is a genius with the language, but I am not going to dedicate him to this more than part time. You’ve got to be able to tell me you’re willing to at least stick your toe into this, and then tell me if it’s going to work for you.”

  David stops talking. We sit for the next few seconds in silence. I’m a team player. “Ok. Alright. I’ll think it through; I’ll get through it,” I say finally.

  ______

  “Say, that Carol is something special. I like her a lot.”

  “You are correct sir; she’s a doll!” Dylan is right about her, and I can see that his comments are both genuine and innocent. “What made you think of her out here?”

  We are just finishing what I call a patrol of the bio area outside of the central landing and work area. We are now walking towards the valley entrance, generally following the stream down. One of our A/V units has crapped out and I need to locate it for repair or replacement.

  “Oh, I don’t know. We disagree on that ‘big picture’ business but she does have a sincere empathy for the people here. She doesn’t see them as simply specimens, or gene carriers, or, worse, as insignificant precursors to ‘real’ people; no, she thinks of them as ‘real’ enough already. I like that. She’s right too.”

  “But you agree with Grigor—hands off?”

  “No, not totally. I say look around—it’s beautiful. Talk to the people—they’re human. We’re done. We did a good job. Let’s go. Amara’s done. Next planet.”

  “You did a good job back there, by the way. You’ve got a real skill with language,” I say, referring to the impromptu meeting we had with David’s subjects a few minutes ago on our patrol.

  At one point, we were about to make one of our stream crossings and there, right across, I saw Al looking at us. I froze, but Dylan took it in stride. He made a hand gesture, which was returned. I did the same, but got nothing—I’m the new guy. Al looked to his left, upstream, and I knew that Bee was around but never caught a glimpse.

  I am good enough now to catch the gist of the language and heard Dylan basically say ‘Hi. You look good. This is Jay,’ pointing at me. One syllable names are easier, he says. No response from the other side except Al looked me over some more. He, Al, sort of nodded towards us, gave another hand signal and was gone.

  “You know you don’t need your weapon at the ready like that. They are scared of us and really don’t know what to make of us being here,” he says, giving a nod to my open holster. “I know you see how they react to us, even just now. They were quite subdued and willing to humor us. Respectful.”

  I don’t respond but continue to walk to the nominal position of the camera. I can only think that Dylan’s stance on this issue is foolish. We see these natives that look so much like us; we want to believe they think like us. I’m not so sure, at least not yet. The fact that they do treat us differently than they would another of their own is proof that we can’t let our guard down, in my mind. Besides, there are no doubt other reasons we may be thankful for having ready protection out here.

  I stop and point, waiting for Dylan to see what I see.

  “What the…?” he says.

  We found the unit alright. It is lying on the ground in the open, case broken.

  I pick up the components; some may be salvageable.

  “This didn’t fall and get this much damage, it was thrown or crushed deliberately,” I opine out loud but mostly to myself, and the thought reminds me immediately of the possible danger of getting too friendly or close to the natives. I scan carefully around to try to locate the sensor mount in order to know if that has been broken as well. It takes a few moments, and we both spot the marked tree and mount at almost the same time.

  “There it is. It’s bent, but attached.”

  “I see it. I’m going up,” I say as I begin to ascend. This unit was not hidden well enough. The location is easily spotted and accessible. The small power module is part of the base and still shows life. I obviously can’t install the new cam in the same location and so remove the mount and secure it before descending.

  “Hey!” comes a shout from higher up in the tree.

  I almost lose my footing, startled at the voice above my head.

  “Hey! Get out of here!” it says again.

  Try as I might, I see no one above. But then, I see it. Someone has already installed a new unit about a body length higher and more well-hidden than the broken one.

  “Yes, you!” and there is some not-so-well-muffled laughter as well.

  I climb down and drop next to Dylan. “Some jackass is playing games. Not funny; I could’ve broken my neck.”

  “I know the voice. It’s Lester,” Dylan replies, keeping his voice low and his back to the cam.

  Without thinking further, I immediately try to reach Lester on my genie. It picks up on his side, but there is no sound. I don’t wait for him to say anything. “What the hell are you trying to pull?” I ask bluntly.

  “You should see your face! We got a great shot of you. What did you think—a man eater about to jump on your head? Look up and gimme that face
again, will ya?” More laughter.

  I’m very tempted to use my weapon, for the first time on the planet, on the cam but think better of it; David needs these cams for his work down here. Besides, it’s not the equipment at fault.

  “I could’ve broken my neck because of your stupid stunt.” And I disconnect without further comment. At this point, I know I’d better cool down before I do or say something I shouldn’t.

  “Thanks a lot, Dyl,” Lester says accusingly through the unit’s speaker.

  We head back to bio camp.

  “Now, what exactly happened out there I wonder,” I say to Dylan, curious to know what he knows.

  “What do you mean? Lester is just like that, he thinks he’s funny. See what I have to put up with?”

  “No, not that. I mean what happened to the original cam, and who installed the new one? Why and how is Lester on one of them? I thought David had all these links down here on a private channel.”

  “Wesley has a private channel too, you know.”

  I stop at these words and Dylan stops too. Of course I know Brachus has his own private channel; I set it up. But what is going on? Why would Brachus want to have a separate cam unit in David’s bio area?

  “Yes, you are right. He has his own channel, yes…” I concur tentatively and pause.

  “Look, I’m not on the ‘inside’ with these guys, Wesley and Lester I mean. Or even Tracy. Neither is Aileen or the rest. They are their own little group. I mind my own business as much as possible,” he says, evidently sensing that I want more information. “Wesley spends a lot of time down here with David, helping David, but I don’t know what he’s up to, really, any more than you do.” He pauses as we continue walking and I try to puzzle it out. “I do know he spends as much time with the others as he does with David’s new project—you know—Al and Bee.”

  “Wait. Others? What others? Do you mean other natives, like those you talk to?”

  “Yes and no. I mean others from David’s program here.”

  I stop again and wait for Dylan to turn and face me. “I thought there were only the two. He wants to test them, and educate them I guess, to see if they are learning and remembering and then let them go ahead and populate the planet; isn’t that what you understand?”

  “That’s what I know too, but there were others. Al’s parents—he had those two in. Didn’t he tell you all this? Those two were the best of the bunch, but there were others.”

  “Yes, you’re right. He told me. And Bee is from Al himself… Say, speaking of that: Isn’t that just wrong? Assuming they start to reproduce. It’s like mating with yourself. Won’t that cause a lot of undesirable characteristics, genetically speaking?”

  “I know what you mean, but I think there are techniques… Actually I don’t know, but David thinks all is OK. Talk to him about it, or somebody who knows more than I do. I do know he is wrong about one thing though.”

  I wait for the explanation but it doesn’t come. “Yes?” I prompt, but still nothing. “Anyway, you were saying there were or are others…”

  “Are.”

  “Others that David has worked with? But I’ve only heard about the two. What’s happening with them, where are they?”

  “They are not here in the bio enclosure. They were sterilized and released. Put out. Only…”

  “Only… what?”

  “Only they are reproducing. I’ve seen the results.”

  Dylan, modified natives released, David, Lester, what else? Almost too much.

  Dylan confessed to me that he thinks David’s attempt to improve native stock is misguided. Not only misguided but doomed to fail.

  First, he says, at least some of the rejects—the supposedly sterile natives who were used by David in the early part of his testing and experimentation—are in fact reproducing. And not all of the results are benign. He, Dylan, has personally witnessed a strain of very large aggressive adults, about 25 to 30% physically larger than the average adult that we have recorded so far. They do not mix well with the untouched population and he has seen the gory results of one of their clashes.

  In the second place, again according to Dylan’s theory, David’s attempts are already doomed since Al and Bee have not begun to propagate, yet the others, the rejects, are, and are doing so at the normal high rate. This means David can say goodbye to a pristine gene set; it will never happen. The others will outnumber A&B (Al and Bee) and their offspring right from the start and by a large factor.

  He does acknowledge that only A&B are being given the t-treatments, and so will have a much longer time to reproduce than any other of the planet’s inhabitants but he doesn’t think it will matter. He thinks the head start of the others, and the fact that their supposedly inferior gene set will taint the pool going forward, will combine to ensure that David’s work is reduced to a waste of time. I tend to agree with Dylan on this point but I reminded both him and myself that David’s background is in this field and ours is not.

  Dylan’s last comments strike me as important and insightful. He says that the natives, before any of this current manipulation, are at a higher level of development than David or any of the team has given them credit for. He has seen their use of tools and has noted in some cases their rapid advance, culturally, during just the time that we have been here. He thinks, and here I agree completely, that there is no way to force cultural maturity, it has to develop on its own. David’s attempt to bring their genetic development along is one thing but to believe he can “manipulate” them into being civilized and mature is another.

  ABCs

  I casually ask, “David, are you aware of the broken cam and A/V transponder?”

  “Electronics fail occasionally and need to be fixed. Which one are you talking about?”

  “No, this one didn’t fail; it was smashed on the ground.” I began to see fire come into his eyes.

  “Alright, then the cams are not hidden well enough. It can’t be that difficult…”

  I interrupt him by showing him the mount that I had taken off the tree. “Look,” I said, “the cam unit wasn’t broken off the mount. See? It’s bent but you can see it was unscrewed. With the proper tool.” I don’t mention about the other cam being installed and, interestingly, neither does David. Why?

  ______

  Lester is in the bio enclosure on some errand for Brachus. I confront him about the incident out by the broken cam unit.

  “Quit screwing around. Somebody’s going to get hurt,” I say. I mean me almost falling out of the tree but hope he will interpret it differently.

  “Get over it, it was a joke,” he says. But he doesn’t move away.

  “I know one of you took the cam unit off the mount.”

  “Yeah? You don’t know anything,” he says and clams up. He crosses his arms and I get a good look at his pinky ring. It has the image of a face or skull set into the silver with deep red stones. He stands silent.

  “You can’t knock out one of David’s cams and replace it with one of your own, especially one that we can’t access since it’s on a private channel.”

  He looks at me with his slight sneer, rakes his hair straight back, and says, “Wrong. I can do whatever I want.” And he turns and walks away.

  ______

  I am in my bunk area trying one of the newly-approved fruits from our little orchard right outside the bio camp. Delicious. Really good. I have been preoccupied with Greg’s request and my determination to comply, but my comfort level is decreasing, not increasing. I do have some ideas about how to test for the cognitive functions of interest to David, but am dreading the actual implementation.

  I look up and see two of the crew approaching. It takes me a second to realize they are coming to see me.

  “At your service boss,” says Craig. I stand and discard the juicy remnants of my snack, wiping my hands dry. I’m still impressed by how young he looks. Aileen is with him. She looks tan and not as thin as I remember her.

  “Hi. What’s up?”


  “The Commander sent us to you. He said you’ll fill us in and put us to work.”

  I look at Aileen for confirmation; she nods, smiles, and says, “We hear you have a project. What can we do?”

  ______

  What a relief! I tell you, when David has his head on straight, he’s all right. It turns out that Aileen has experience in teaching, especially with the young. And Craig is willing to do whatever is needed. This is a huge burden off my mind. We discuss how to handle the natives and agree that for safety’s sake they both will always work together. We arrange to receive language training from Dylan.

  It’s cramped down here relative to base camp but I set them both up in our bare-bones ‘visitors quarters’ and they stow what few supplies they have brought with them. They walk through a brief orientation—Craig has been here, but not so Aileen—and then we head out, taking the usual precaution of first scanning the outside area. I stress the importance of being careful not to betray the location of the hidden door.

  “This area will work. We’ll set it up right here.” I take a look above and around. There’s a fine spot for a hidden cam. “You guys will be out here always together. I’ll monitor the cam should anything happen.” This spot is very near our small garden and can be reached from the camp in seconds if need be. “No matter, always carry your standard protection, just like out in the field.” I look at them both. “You both were out in the field, right?” I search their faces for signs of concern. None. Is it just me that feels exposed and vulnerable out here? I look around one more time, judging carefully how secure from surprise this position is.

  “Do you think this will take long? I mean the whole project—do you think it’ll take, what, days? …years?” asks Aileen.

  “It’s only results he wants. Certainly more than days, less than years. Most important is to see if you can document any improvement over the baseline… Dylan says he’s already talked to you…”