Dues of Mortality

by Jason Austin

  “No offense, Doc, but you really look awful,” Xavier said. “When was the last time you slept?”

  “I’ve gotten in a...a...few winks over the past couple of days, but n...not a lot. I guess it’s just one...of those things y...you...you have to compromise when you’re being hunted by killers.” Kelmer jerked at the end of his thought and his hand shot outward. It knocked his ceramic cup off the edge of the table and it shattered onto the floor.

  Everyone paused for a moment.

  “Tell us about it,” Xavier said.

  As Kelmer went about cleaning up, Xavier's wandering eye fell onto, what he could only describe as, a “collection of gadgets” set on a metal supply shelf to his left. The largest of these was a simple black obelisk of sorts, no more than a foot in height and with at least three different lens structures built in. Maybe it saw through walls or something, he thought. In his childish curiosity, he pressed a large eye-catching red plate located on the base of the object. It made a soft whirring sound that lasted about three seconds, followed by a click. Xavier grew nervous and pouted in Glenda and Kelmer's direction. They were completely oblivious to his adolescent meddling as Glenda was cooling her tea and Kelmer was sweeping broken ceramic shards into a dustpan. Unsure if he’d damaged anything, Xavier casually moved away from the shelves. The imaging unit went unnoticed as it whirred softly again and several small lights encircled another lens.

  “So Wallace is the one you...we are running from?” Xavier asked. He thought it best to pose his inquiries from a distance so as to give Kelmer an illusion of intimacy with Glenda. She appeared to be the blanket to Kelmer's Linus, and Xavier didn’t want to risk any further ruffling of the man's already dangerously thin feathers.

  Kelmer’s red eyes widened. “Y...yes.”

  “Why is he trying to kill you?” Glenda asked.

  “Obviously, b...because of what I know. Or what he thinks I know.”

  Xavier sauntered across the room toward another large cabinet and nonchalantly flipped open one of its doors. “Well, either way, I think it’s time you...ah!” Xavier dove sideways. Shit! Somebody’s in there!

  Glenda nearly fell off her stool and Kelmer froze solid.

  Xavier spun on a dime and looked for the closest object to use as a weapon. He stopped when he got a second look at the figure inside the cabinet. “The fuck?”

  Richard Kelmer walked over and peered into the cabinet. A disembodied mirror image of Glenda's handsome companion stared back at him from inside. Mostly the head and shoulders; Xavier had stepped out of range before the device had captured the complete image. “You weren’t...by...by any chance playing with my prototype, were you?” he asked wryly.

  “Prototype?” Xavier quizzed.

  “Yes. I...It’s a prototype of a portable holographic projector.”

  Xavier was amazed. “That’s a hologram? It's so real.” He went to touch it and his fingers pierced the image, with nary a disruption. It was full featured and completely clear, even in the bright light of the lab. It was more like looking at a bust of himself in a wax museum. “This is too much.”

  “It was one of my uncle’s d...designs.” Kelmer said, with a hint of pride. “He made it mostly out of s...spare parts from the solar generator.” He then walked over by the image inducer and picked up a four-by-six-inch, hand-held touchscreen with a small 3D outcropping. It had been activated in unison with the projector.

  Xavier recognized it right away. “A remote control,” he said.

  “Y...yes.” Kelmer said and handed it to him.

  “We used something like this during basic training exercises. But the images didn't look anywhere near this authentic.” Xavier dialed in commands with Kelmer's remote, manipulating the holographic head inside the cabinet. It looked like it was wondering where the rest of its body was hiding. “Army's been waiting for years to have a model they could implement in the field. Ideally, a soldier could use the image to draw out the enemy without breaking cover. You haven't tried to patent it, make a profit?”

  “The image still tends to waver in sunlight. It works best indoors and at night. Plus the unit has power problems. Only lasts a few s...seconds before the diodes burn out.”

  “Still looks awesome.”

  “My uncle was a b...brilliant man. Even his throw-away projects were ahead of their time.” Kelmer hit a switch on the inducer and the image evaporated. “But it's not really my field.”

  “Well this house sure was ahead of its time,” Glenda remarked. “How did you end up with it?”

  “The government sometimes enlists the aid of 'gifted' people on certain projects. I...I did some code cracking for them when I w...was in college. They owed me a favor.”

  “Must’ve taken you years to get all this in here and running.”

  “Almost three, to be exact. Originally, this area was going to be just another w...wine cellar w...with a couple of extra rooms for storage. But he kept modifying the solar batteries even after the design phase. By the t...time they broke ground, the batteries were operating at well beyond their original design and capable of storing twice the p...power supply. Seattle was the perfect place; with the infrequent sunny days and the power problems they’ve been having in the hydroelectric arena because of climate warming, he was certain the project would have solid support. He never was cynical enough, I guess.”

  “Wow. So he had all this room left over and just decided to turn it into a lab?”

  “No. The lab was my idea. I...I’ve done a few minor upgrades to the batteries myself over the years. As I said, engineering isn't exactly my field. But what I did do gave me room to expand. In fact, I’ve pretty much m...managed to duplicate most of the necessary features of the labs at Millenitech so I’d be able to do the same work here and still have the privacy I need. I even...”

  “Doctor...” Xavier interrupted. He was truly impressed with the accomplishment, but detailed tech talk accompanied by a speech impediment was the absolute definition of cruel and unusual punishment. “We’ll be sure to recommend that it’s featured in Home and Garden dot com. Right now, we just need to know why Wallace is after you and what it all has to do with Glenda.”

  Kelmer dropped his chin, embarrassed. He did have a tendency to prattle on when it came to his work. However, in his defense, Glenda had always made him especially nervous. Even now, as he stood across from her with far more pressing concerns on his mind, he felt the full weight of the myriad insecurities he'd had whenever he was alone in a room with her, running drills on the periodic table of elements. She made him feel like the slobbering fourteen-year-old who couldn't control his newly empowered sweat glands. He shook his head, trying to think past it all. He thrust his hands into his armpits and leaned against the table.

  “When I was eighteen, my uncle suffered a severe cerebral hemorrhage that left him physically and mentally handicapped,” he said. “I...I witnessed him go from an engineering genius...at...at the top of his field to a frail wisp of a man, who wore a diaper and could hardly...feed himself.” Kelmer sank like an anvil. “He was like a father to me. When my real father couldn't have cared less, he was the one who inspired me to respect and appreciate science.” He raised his chin and recovered. “I wanted to know how it was that the brain—the most advanced computer on earth capable of performing and maintaining all of its functions at the level it does, could just...stop. Most of all, why him? P...People with far more serious brain injuries have recovered to virtually fully functional lives; why...w...was my uncle different? For that matter, why d...did some people recover from certain illnesses, like cancer while others suffered and died within months of their diagnosis? Why did some people with...spinal cord injuries learn to walk again while others with less traumatic injuries never stood up at all? Was the theory of mind over matter really that much more powerful than medical science knew? If that was the case...then what if it were possible to stimulate and direct that same...cerebral focus? I...it led me to develop and test some new theories a
bout how an individual brain relates to its body’s function. However, a lot of those experiments involved the increased availability of high-yielding stem cells, c...cloned tissue. When cloning therapy started to become a more practical means of treatment, I figured I had an opportunity. I wanted to go a step further from just replicating new brain tissue to replace the damaged tissue. That p...procedure’s results were too limited and unreliable. My idea was to use the brain’s previously untapped power. I...it was a long shot, but I was getting close; closer than anyone else had ever come.”

  “Doc, I really don’t mean to sound rude here, but it’s got to be getting pretty dark outside,” Xavier said. “We’ve already been here too long.”

  Glenda gave Xavier the look to back off. Considering the hell they'd gone through just to get to Kelmer, indulging him this bit of peccadillo was the easiest part.

  Kelmer threw up a hand, discouraging anymore interruptions. “I...I was still primarily on staff at Case Western when Millenitech first showed interest in my work. Their department had the most..s...state-of-the-art equipment and the financial backing that I needed to make some real breakthroughs. Wallace threw a great deal of money behind his cloning and gene technologies. Rumor had it that he was also using cloned fetuses in his research.”

  Xavier finally looked interested. “That would be pretty damn hard to do, considering the cloning of human beings is illegal.”

  “Yes. I...it is. Isn’t it?” Kelmer said rhetorically.

  “And that little proviso didn’t matter to Wallace?”

  “At the time, it didn’t much matter to me either. I...I thought the government was just creating laws against something it didn’t understand...against something it f...feared. God knows it wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “But when you discovered the rumors were true, you still went along with what he was doing?” Glenda asked.

  “He gave this great speech about being scientific pioneers,” Kelmer said. “He said we would be not just revolutionaries, but ‘evolutionaries.’ He said that we would...b...be the company that would help usher in a new era of human existence, where p...pain and suffering would be a thing of the past—a world where nobody had to worry about being incapable anymore.”

  “Incapable?” Xavier said. “Sounds more like code for inferior. You couldn’t see through that crap?”

  Glenda hit Xavier with the look again. Apparently, his great instincts about women drained the swamp, leaving nothing when it came to men.

  “I was t...t...t...trying to help people!” Kelmer said defensively. “And even if I wasn’t...” He looked to his feet in abject shame. “Well, I guess we all can’t be like you. Of course, I...I don’t suppose you would know what it’s like to have people look past you like you don’t e...even exist, to be pushed aside, laughed at.”

  Oh, yeah, right, Xavier thought. Like a bum on the street who people actually make a physical effort to step over, afraid that they’ll see something of themselves? Nah, he wouldn’t know anything about that. “I wasn’t trying to pass judgment, Doc.”

  Kelmer let it go. “I...I thought Millenitech...I was doing the right thing. I...I did only want to help people, but the experiments adopted so much more profound procedures. It—cloning a person—became more taxing than I thought. At first, it was just experimentation. But as we developed the process further and further...”

  “You couldn’t ignore the fact you were creating people,” Glenda said.

  “I knew they were just...mindless shells,” Kelmer sighed. “But they were still...so...perfectly human. I began to think, what if they were alive...somewhere in the deepest part of what we had created; somewhere we couldn’t see or detect by any means? What if their souls were fighting to get out, screaming for air?” Kelmer turned green, sinking almost to a whisper. “What if by not connecting all the wires, we were just condemning one innocent soul after another? What if we were...m...m...murdering them before they even had a chance to live?” He paused for a moment, realizing he’d just confessed crimes that expanded well beyond the statute of man. “For a while, I...I still thought I was doing good work. I was until Wallace...” Kelmer trailed off like he didn’t know what else to say.

  “Wallace had other ideas for your work, didn’t he?” Xavier asked.

  “I...I wanted to create a means for patients who were unable to manipulate their m...muscles due to brain damage, to recover faster and with fuller results,” Kelmer proclaimed. “After years of hard work at the university and Millenitech...I came up with this.” He picked out a palm-sized metal box from one of the security cabinets. He then delicately removed from it a small device with four tiny prongs, which were linked together, forming an oddly shaped spider-web design. “I...It’s a cerebral implant. The absolute latest in biomemetic alloys. When placed in a specific area of the brain the cluster of micro-circuitry interacts with it to restore voluntary muscle control.” Kelmer lifted a finger like he always did with his students. “Here, let me show you.”

  Chapter 42

  Bonaparte carefully scanned the perimeter through his night-vision as he cowed behind the cover of the broad full-bloomed maples surrounding the property. Why did the damn place have to be so far off from the trees? he thought. He and Pedro would have to close in eventually and that meant a good twenty-second trot across open ground. And Bonaparte didn't care that there were so few windows. Shit, it only took one to get spotted or even popped if there were sentries. He'd learned that the hard way, back when he was working for the cartel. According to Gabriel, the threat of an armed response was minimal, but it was up to Bonaparte to be prepared. That asshole, had some nerve, Bonaparte thought. It wasn't enough Gabriel had to ruin he and his partner's trip to Vegas, but he had to insult them too. I swear if wasn't for the money.

  Bonaparte positioned himself behind another, tree, closer to the forest's edge. He pulled out his MAG and doubled checked it's firing settings. At its lowest setting, or velocity, Bonaparte's custom-built 3mm could fire forty rounds of ammunition, with the stopping power of your average 9mm pistol, before the rails were too warped to fire and the clip had to be ejected. However, at its maximum setting, it could fire up to ten rounds with each capable of destroying the engine block of a semi. Needless to say, Bonaparte couldn't wait until the technology was such that it allowed him to bring down a passenger plane with a single shot. That wouldn't matter with this bunch, though, he thought. Instructions were to keep it clean. Bonaparte would eliminate the targets without breaking a sweat and be back in bed with Pedro before eleven.

  “Got anything?” Bonaparte asked, tapping at the two-way's bud plugged into his ear.

  A gruff male voice carrying a South American accent hummed in reply through a thin band of static. “No. It’s hard to tell what’s going on through these small-ass windows. Why don’t we just rush the place?”

  Bonaparte pulled up a pant-leg and released the safety on the 380 Ruger he kept strapped above his ankle. “Not until we confirm all three. And it's even harder to hear you now, so better to have solid targets before we completely split up. Just give it a few more minutes, and then we’ll go.”

  “Alright.”

  ****

  Kelmer commanded the computer—one of many in the basement lab—and it began playing a recording of himself and three other people. One was Dana Holliman, and another a plump, brown-skinned woman in a nurse’s uniform. It seemed they were in the physical therapy ward of a hospital or something thereof, judging by the room’s accouterments, which included a barred stationary tread to Kelmer's right. They were positioned at the start of the tread, around a stoic man who looked to be in his mid-fifties or so, seated in a wheelchair. The man was slumped awkwardly in the chair with his limbs curled beneath him like dead vines. Languidly drifting eyes appeared to be his only signs of life. The on-screen Kelmer placed himself in full view of the camera as he presented the demonstration.

  “My name is...is Dr. Richard Kelmer, PhD, in microbiology, biochemistry and b
ioengineering.” He motioned left. “This is my assistant Dana Holliman of Case Western Reserve University with advanced study in biomechanical engineering,” he motioned right, “and licensed practical nurse Da'Vesha Brown.” He touched the wheelchair. “Our patient is one, fifty-four-year-old...C...Cassius Tyler of Cleveland, Ohio. Approximately three months ago, Mr. Tyler suffered a severe stroke, which damaged the basal ganglia region of his brain resulting in extensive loss of motor control, as is very common in stroke patients.” Kelmer held the same spider-web device up to the camera. “Less than forty-eight hours ago, Mr. Tyler underwent a unique surgical procedure, which involved the implantation of this biocompatible, n...neural control unit. This revolutionary implant is s...specifically designed to intermingle the sensory input of the cerebral cortex and translate it into specific functions within the motor cortex. The goal is to not only allow the patient to walk under his own musculoskeletal energy, but also perform at least some of the more common daily tasks of which he was capable before his stroke. I...It is my belief that should the implant prove successful, it would reduce a patient’s recovery time from similar injury by well over 80 percent and would, for all intents and purposes, eliminate any atrophy of the muscles, which usually...occurs in such cases. The implant is also designed as the bridgework between the brain and an intricate software program, which interprets bioelectric impulses and enacts them as physical movement.”

  Kelmer extracted a palmtop device from his coat pocket and fired up its 3D panel. “This control allows me to adjust the power input accordingly for the bioelectric stimulation. However, it is my hope that once the implant is adapted to the patient’s own brainwave patterns, the remote device will not often be necessary.”

  Kelmer inserted his fingers into the exploded panel and began manipulating the interface. The camera zoomed in on the paralyzed patient and after several overly-dramatic seconds, Cassius Tyler's head wrenched backward in a methodical snaking motion until it settled in an upright position. His back straightened and his shoulders aligned. His knobby knees parted and his bony feet flattened against the floor. His hands gripped the arms of the wheelchair and mightily pushed him to a standing position. Tyler's mouth was wide open. It looked like he was in the front seat of a down-sloping roller coaster as unbridled joy battled to express itself through his fallow shell. Such minor motion had become a painfully distant memory for him in just the three months he’d been an invalid. Kelmer continued to play his fingers inside the interface and Tyler’s left leg raised gently, quaking in the air. Kelmer worked the panel again, prompting Tyler to grab the support bars of the stationary tread. Then, languorously and wavering, Tyler began walking the length of the bars with the plump nurse facing his every step, looking poised to do a diving catch at the slightest urging. When he reached the end, Tyler did a proud about-face and repeated his journey until once again he was seated in the wheelchair. Not once, during the return trip, did he grab the support bars. After capturing the miracle, the camera zoomed out from a teary, swollen-eyed Tyler and progressed to a view of Richard Kelmer explaining the apparent success of the demonstration.