“Wow, so these are all robots?”
“Naw, more like drones. There’s someone in the NEG for each of these guys. They’re being operated remotely. They have one for practically everything. Think of them as drone worker ants for us queen bees living the highlife in the Biosphere.”
“What’s in it for them?”
“Well, for starters, they get the same pampering when it’s their turn. More importantly, this is how they earn money for game credits in the VSMs and to gamble in the Life Lottery”
Andron and Cygnus are whisked along a pedestrian transport toward Center Town. Their outfits are a little silly, but everyone’s wearing them. They have silver shoulder pads that point sharply out to the sides and plunge in a V in the front and back.
The rest is black, except the large silver belt buckles that look like they came from a 1970s truck stop. All wear gBracelets that Cygnus explains have a person’s everything and are connected to everything. Regardless of natural eye color, everyone has one glowing green eye. These are contact lenses serving as computer monitors. The women all wear skimpy outfits. At least the men have their genitals on the inside in this setting.
“Why is everyone so attractive and young, apart from having no Eden Marks?”
“A couple of reasons. To make sure brain tissue stays fresh when you are plugged back into the NEG again, forty is the maximum age up here. As for attractiveness, you can design your body a bit before you are born, as well as get rid of genetic-based diseases. You can also pick your parents.”
“Well, that would explain it…
“Something sure looks familiar about this place, though.”
They arrive at Center Town. The atmosphere in the Biosphere mimics a warm sunny day. The blue dome above them looks like sky. There are plenty of trees, birds and insects. Glass towers reach up everywhere with different themes.
Drones and humans crowd the street, a lot of the humans have martini glasses. The place is lit up everywhere, with huge LCD lights and 3D advertisements. Various tube trains crisscross above, while moving sidewalks ferry everyone along on the ground.
“What’s with all the martini glasses?
“Everyone here is chasing some kind of high, I guess.”
“I got it now…this place reminds me of Las Pecado.”
“That’s because it sort of is.”
“How so?”
“This used to be Las Vegas.”
Chapter 14:
The Lovers
Andron is studying his face in the mirror.
He’s seen medical reports in court where doctors comment on whether someone looks their stated age. Most doctors would report that Andron looks a decade older.
He looks like what he is. A lonely old man.
He wonders if his face would have fewer lines in it, his eyes less sullen, had Astrid had not been taken from him so many years ago.
He wonders if his reflection wonders.
Andron’s receptionist flags him down on his way to his office. She hands him a pink note.
“She says she’s a writer with NewsPeriod.”
Interview requests from major media were less frequent but still trickled in, to the delight of his staff. He crumples the pink slip like the rest of them and nearly tosses it in the can, but the name catches his eye.
Naomi Felder.
It resonates with him for no particular reason.
He decides to look her up.
“Wow…she’s quite the rocket.”
The images show a woman in her late-twenties with a lean frame, long brunette hair, emerald green eyes and full lips. She has her hair pulled back in most of them, to go with her half smile and modest makeup.
Skimming some of her articles and noting a journalism degree from a top-tiered university convinces Andron that she’s more than a pretty face. She has a recent piece on using high-end MRIs to imprint knowledge into the brain:
Look Mom, I Downloaded My College Degree Into My Brain
“Well, we are not able to do that quite yet,” says Dr. Wastabe, an fMRI researcher with Anston University, “but it might soon be used to help brain injured patients to recover knowledge and for athletes to improve their performance.” An fMRI images cerebral blood flow associated with various thoughts. Once patterns associated with these various thoughts are mapped, patients can be induced to replicate them through cortical stimulation. Being able to influence or imprint thought patterns into the subject is a goal, though not presently possible.
This is how Dr. Wastabe explained it, but does this mean that this could be used for brainwashing and mindreading Big Brother style? “Any technology can be abused,” answered Dr. Wastabe (which wasn’t a very comforting answer), “but we are focused in our facility on using the technology to help the injured recover and to be able to enhance human learning.”
So we will be able to download a university education straight into our brains? “Maybe in the distant future, but that would likely require microchips that can function as neuro-receptors.” As exciting as enhancing my brain power with computer chips sounds, I’m not quite ready to become part robot. Instead, I opt to stick my pumpkin into the fMRI for a demonstration.
Since no contrasting dye is needed, an fMRI is non-invasive. The only known complication is claustrophobia. I can relate as it wasn’t exactly pleasant being conveyed on a slab into a tube, wearing something resembling a football helmet. The machine is also very noisy with all its buzzing, clanking and shaking about. Once settled, I was asked to visualize various shapes and other such tasks while the machine peered into my brain.
I didn’t come out any wiser but I was able to see that my thought patterns associated with what I was imagining matched the thought patterns of other test subjects. That and I had a strange compulsion to give Dr. Wastabe a backrub. Okay, that didn’t happen but I was left with a sense of awe at what the future might hold for human intelligence thanks to Dr. Wastabe.
—Naomi Felder
Andron dials the number.
Hi, this is Naomi.
“Hi, Naomi. I’m Andron Varga. You called my office earlier.”
Oh, my God. Yes. How are you? I can’t believe I’m actually speaking to you. I’m a huge fan.
“Ha-ha. Okay. You can be a charter member of my fan club. Though meetings might be a bit lonely.”
Oh, you’re too modest. You may not know this but you’re a cult hero around here. Listen. I want to do a piece about your whole experience.
“Well, as you know, I’ve made my peace with your government and I am not at liberty to discuss much beyond that.”
No, hon, I want to focus more on the whole downloading a space virus thing and how it has affected you.
Hon? Part of Andron wonders if he’s being sweet-talked into a story and worries that he might end up blabbing too much.
Wonders if that’s her plan.
Hello?
“Yeah sorry. If you think it might be of interest then I don’t see the harm in an interview, provided we can work out some ground rules. But I have to warn you, I’m an average guy who otherwise has led a boring life. I don’t think it will make good copy.”
Oh, no, hon that actually makes your story more compelling and as to leading a boring life…I think you’ve previously had an unfortunate experience with outer space.
Ahhhh. The tell.
Andron stops himself from slamming the phone down.
“I really don’t like talking about that.”
It comes out louder than he intended.
Naomi backpedals in a cloud of save-the-interview qualifiers.
Shit, I’m sorry. I had no business bringing that up, Andron. I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about that at all. And I won’t use it my story if you don’t want.
“Hey, I’m sorry for snapping at you, I guess I’m still pretty raw about it and I shouldn’t be.”
I understand. We can play it completely by ear, Andron. But hon, I’m on your side. We don’t have to talk about anythi
ng you don’t want to. And if you want something to be off-limits, it will be off-limits, okay?
“Yeah, that’s okay. So when did you want to do this? I can make myself available later on this afternoon for an interview if that works.”
Um, actually, darling, I was hoping to come see you.
Darling?
“Come see me? That’s probably going to take some traveling on your part. But sure, if you think it’s worth it. When do you think that might be?”
My assistant has scouted out flights and a hotel for me. I’ll be there Thursday.
“Yeshua. That’s quick. Well, I guess I can make time. Let me know when. At least it’s still fall here and not winter.”
Yes, I’ve heard about your winters. But don’t worry. I’ll come by at ten.
“Ten a.m. would be fine. Do you need directions?”
Oh, don’t worry, I can find it. But give me your cell in case something comes up.
Andron gives her his number. They click off.
He gets a text from her.
Thanks for taking the time to speak to me Andron. I REALLY look forward to meeting you :)
Andron puts his phone on his desk and pecks out…me too.
Andron’s smiling but worries whether he’s being set up. Wonders whether he cares.
Cygnus is Cygnus.
“Nah, she checks out. I know you won’t tell her anything you’re not supposed to. Anyway, she’s fucking hot. You should totally try to tap that for the team.”
“Right, she’s going to be all for that.”
“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, bro. Bitches are all for successful older dudes with tragic pasts. Add a bit of space intrigue and you’ll be drowning kittens in those panties. You got to be more of a playa, Andi-O.”
That morning, Andron looks like a bad poker player with aces.
Your play, sir.
Really?
He tries to tell himself it’s a business meeting. YourealawyerforChistossakesgetagrip.
The call comes in shortly before ten.
Your play, sir.
There’s a Naomi Felder here to see you.
“Tell her I’ll be right out.”
Andron organizes the pads and pens on his desk at precise right angles for five minutes. Exactly five minutes.
He walks into reception.
And stops breathing. Or at least forgets how, when she looks up with her bright green eyes.
Green light go.
Christos.
Snapshots. A grey coat, cream sweater, black boots climbing to a tight grey skirt. Full on smile.
“Hello, Andron.”
Christos, the voice. Richer and deeper than on the phone.
He offers his hand.
“Delighted to meet you, Ms. Felder.”
Her nails glide across his palm. Andron’s balls tighten. She smells like vanilla and forest.
“Won’t you please come in, I’m the first door on your right.”
fuckshitballsbreathe.
She passes by close enough he can feel heat, she catches him watching, he sees the start of a smile as she turns.
“May I take your coat?”
“Oh, please.”
Andron takes her coat. He hopes she forgets it.
She settles in her chair and retrieves a pen and notepad from her purse. She opens it on her lap, clicks her pen and pauses.
Andron straightens. He leans back in his chair with his hands clasped together. He looks directly at her without smiling.
Aces. He’s not fooling anyone.
“Do you believe in God?”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that one.”
“Nevertheless.”
“I can’t say that I am a religious man, though my parents were. I don’t attend church, I guess.”
“That’s not what I asked, Andron.”
“Is this on the record?”
“No, it’s for me. I want to know you.”
Andron studies her face for irony or guile.
“Well okay. I don’t believe in a white-haired old man sitting up there in a throne running everything. I don’t believe in a heaven or a hell. And I don’t believe that our bodies contain more than the matter of which they’re made.”
The green eyes drill through the words.
“I didn’t ask you what you don’t believe in, Andron. That’s easy.”
So to speak.
“Okay. Okay. Truth?”
“Always and forever.”
“Lately I’ve been seeing God as something infused in everything, in everything without and within, in nothingness and in being. I guess I think of the universe itself as a being the same as we are. A being with consciousness and self-awareness. But, not a god who directs, or intervenes. One that is knowable by becoming aware of the connection we share with the cosmos in profound moments of awe. This god does not help, even if he could. It’s just something that can be accessed and perhaps is transformative in the process of seeking.”
Andron thinks he has this on good authority, based on what Cygnus has been telling him. Then again, Cygnus has been porn bombing him repeatedly. Still, she wanted his always and forever truth and this is the best he can do.
Naomi’s smiling. He has no idea why.
“Do you think we have souls?”
“Can’t you just ask me what we’re having for lunch?”
The green stars twinkle.
“Okay. The better question is what doesn’t have a soul? Dogs…monkeys? Not many would argue that. But most would draw the line at fish, insects and plants. I wouldn’t. I would even include rocks and minerals. What soul could a rock have? To that I would answer, what soul could a person have? Unplugged from the brain, there’s no facial recognition, memories, desires, thoughts, sensations or even a sense of oneself as something distinct from the environment. So all that’s left is blob, really. Who cares about being a blob?”
Shit.
“Tell me I didn’t just use my out-loud voice?”
“Yeah. That’s pretty depressing.”
“Well, I suppose being a blob wouldn’t be that dreary. If all things have a blob, then the universe has a blob and we are all part of the God Blob.”
They laugh. There’s a pause.
“So how did it happen, Andron?”
“You mean the virus?”
“Yeah.”
“I was sitting at home one night. It was winter. March first, to be exact. I was bored. I was drinking. I went to seek adventure on the Internet. I was intrigued by an ad about seeking extraterrestrial intelligence. I lent my modest computer to the hunt, downloaded some kind of program, switched it on and rejoined my rum and coke.
“I woke up to discover that I somehow managed to short-circuit the entire Internet. I can assure you, I barely know how to program my TV, much less hack into a computer or orchestrate a cyber attack. And I have absolutely no interest in helping anarchists, spies or terrorists.”
“I didn’t have you figured for an anarchist, spy or a terrorist, Andron. Do you think you succeeded?”
“Succeeded in what?”
“Making contact with another planet?”
“Who knows? That was a pretty strange virus. I guess they could never figure out what exactly it was or what became of it.”
Naomi stops taking notes, Andron looks up to catch her studying his eyes. He starts to smile but is stopped by the openness of her stare.
“Well, that’s enough for now.”
She closes her notebook.
“Can we continue this later? I am a bit tired from my flight and need to think up some better questions.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your questions and you hardly look tired, but sure. And here I was so enchanted by your awesomeness that I forgot to offer you a cup of coffee. But yeah, we can do this later, what time were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about four this afternoon?”
Andron pretends to consult his day planner. It wouldn’t matter what appointme
nt might have been there. It would have been scratched. Scratched through to his desk.
“Looks like I am free. So, see you here at four?”
“No. Here doesn’t work for me. I want to see you outside your comfort zone and more into mine.”
“Sure. What did you have in mind….a coffee shop…an early dinner?”
“I was thinking of my room.”
Gulp.
“…sure.”
The poker face isn’t happening.
“Which hotel?”
“I’m staying at the Juniper. Room 603.
“Don’t worry, Andron…I’ll find my own way out.”
She doesn’t forget her coat.
Andron stands up. She leaves. He sits down and writes on his notepad.
“Juniper – 603 – 4 – N.F.”
He nearly breaks his pen.
He can’t get any work done, so he goes home. He makes some sandwiches. They end up in the trash bin. He flosses his teeth. He brushes them twice. He swishes mouthwash. It makes his mouth drier. He wants to pop a couple pills but doesn’t. He shaves again. He takes a shaver and a razor to himself. Body hair clippings scatter to his bathroom floor. He feels twelve again. He showers. Almost comes drying himself off. He uses the toilet and then climbs back in the shower.
He changes his mind on the pills.
He feels stupider than ever.
He’s on the way out when the bank of speakers crackle.
How did it go?
Cygnus is using the FM deejay modulator.
“Pretty good. She’s really nice. She’s more interested in my experiences with the cosmos than anything.”
How was it left?
“We’re meeting again.”
I see.
Andron darts out of the house. He’s in no mood for Cygnus.
He stops at a drug store and buys some condoms. He shoves a couple in his wallet. Just like the ones that traveled with him for six years after he turned sixteen.
He laughs at himself.
He’s terrified. He’s excited. He’s smiling. His aces are showing. Cards are on the table.
Heads up.
Here comes the turn.
Here comes the river.
The Cygnus Virus Page 8