Variations on Humanity

by Paul Eslinger

  Fifteen minutes later Sam and Trixie were still answering questions. An ambulance had arrived and loaded the body of the attacker and one of the paramedics had taped Sam’s inch-long cut.

  One of the policemen stepped close to Sam. “I have more questions. Sit in the back of my squad car until I finish talking with the ambulance driver.”

  “I’m fine out here,” Sam responded.

  The policemen shook his head and pointed imperiously. Sam finally walked over and slid into the back seat of the police car. Trixie joined him, but they left the car door open.

  Just then, Keene’s voice came over Sam’s earpiece. “Something isn’t adding up. We can’t match these policemen with anyone at the local station.”

  “They got here too quick,” Sam shot back quietly.

  Both policemen moved over to the squad car. One of them slammed the rear door, hitting Trixie with the armrest. The policeman jumped in the front, started the squad car, and pulled out of the lot.

  “Where are we going?” Sam asked. There were enough small holes in the partition between the front and back seats that he could talk with the driver.

  “To the station.”

  “Why?” Sam shot back.

  He bit back his next comment as Keene spoke over his earpiece. “Unless they turn right at the next corner, they aren’t taking the most direct route to the local station.”

  Sam brought his hand up and covered his mouth when the police car continued straight at the next intersection. “What can we do? We’re locked in the back seat behind an armor partition.”

  “Marlee is following you, isn’t she?”

  Sam twisted and looked back. He could see Marlee’s car on the street. “Yes.”

  “Dulcis hacked into the car computer. We’ll shut down the engine, lock the front doors, and unlock the back doors. That will give you a few moments to run to Marlee’s car.”

  “Tell me when.” Sam uncovered his mouth and took Trixie’s hand in his. “Get ready,” he whispered.

  She looked up with concern on her face. “What?”

  “Run to Marlee’s car.” Even as he spoke, the dash lights on the car died and the engine quit.

  Sam watched the cursing driver pull towards the side of the street and stand on the brake.

  Trixie turned and looked out the back window. She shook Sam’s shoulder. “Marlee is getting close,” she hissed.

  The police car was moving slower than a walking pace when the dash lights flashed briefly and then died again. Sam heard door locks engage and felt the back door move slightly. He shoved and the door swung open. He lunged from the car and managed to keep on his feet. He extended his hand while trotting beside the car and tried to drag Trixie out.

  They were in Marlee’s car, accelerating away from the scene, when the police car driver finally managed to get his door open. He gestured and waved his pistol, but he didn’t shoot.

  “Whew,” Sam said and slumped back in his seat. “I didn’t expect that.”

  “Neither did I,” Marlee said. “We need to improve our security.”

  “I agree,” Sam said. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. “I wonder if Enzio Martin caught up with us. That kind of operation fits his profile.”

  Once back in Marlee’s command center, Sam and Trixie helped her troll for information on the attack. They hacked into the computer network for the local police station, knowing as they did so that others could do the same thing. The dead man was French, but he was a drifter without any known connections to the military or the underworld. The police car had been stolen from the lot. The prints left by the two police imposters weren’t on file. Without the capacity to poll the entire web and correlate huge volumes of data, the three investigators didn’t fare any better.

  Chapter 17 – Armor Package

  Three days later, after spending time improving the security functions in Italy, Sam and Trixie arrived back in Jetmore. Rhona and Keene followed them to the nursery when Nanda insisted on checking Sam’s injury.

  Rhona watched Sam unbutton his shirt and pull it back. “You’re wasting your time,” he said.

  “Probably,” Nanda agreed as she ran a portable scanner over his chest. She pulled the scanner back and touched the incision site with her fingers. “Looking good. The soft tissue is completely healed. The scar will fade in another week. Bone heals a little slower. You’ll be totally healed within the week.”

  “Thanks, I like this medical approach.” Sam paused and then fingered his arm. “The scar from the knife cut Rhona patched up previously has also disappeared.”

  Nanda looked around at the three humans. “There is one other thing we could do.”

  “What is that?” Rhona asked when Sam simply cocked his head to one side.

  “Sam was lucky. An inch further to one side and the knife would have penetrated his chest between his ribs. It would have cut through his aorta.”

  “Oh…” Sam let out a lungful of air slowly, sounding like a deflating balloon. “That wouldn’t have been good.”

  Nanda shook her head. “You would have died.”

  Rhona’s interest in Nanda’s earlier statement grew stronger. “What else can you do?” she asked.

  “I started studying human DNA on my first visit to Earth. It was more robust then. It seems like the changes to the current human genome resulting in short lifetimes were engineered rather than the result of mutations. I wonder…” She closed her eyes and her voice trailed off.

  Rhona mentally filed the concept that someone else, possibly another species, had engineered changes to human DNA before she verbally nudged the ancient Abantu. “Nanda, you said you could do something else.”

  “Sorry.” Nanda opened her eyes. “Anyway, some of the early humans were quite proficient with knives, swords, and arrows. I started thinking what I could do–DNA-wise–to protect against primitive weapons. It took a while, but I came up with a solution while we were traveling on Ceres, mostly because Nana let me play with the planetary AI. You need an endpoint and a sequence of implementation steps.”

  “What endpoint?” Rhona prodded when Nanda paused again. Nanda usually gave crisp explanations, but she seemed to be fumbling for words.

  “You can grow armor.”

  The statement intrigued Rhona. A parade of insects and armored dinosaurs marched through her mind. “Grow? Grow what kind of armor?” she prompted.

  “Subcutaneous armor,” Nanda replied. She activated a display screen with a verbal command and turned towards it. “It would be impervious to puncture wounds and small arms–up to about the energy level of a 0.50 caliber round.”

  Nanda gestured at a holographic figure that appeared in the air. The representation was so good it looked like a real person. “There are a couple of things in the package. First, a thin layer of flexible armor grows just under the skin. It is porous enough to support blood flow, but unlike human-build bullet-proof vests, Keene couldn’t cut through it with his favorite knife.”

  She reached out and touched Rhona’s arm with her finger. “There won’t be any gross differences or changes in the way the skin looks. The same goes for the skin response to an easy touch. However, you won’t be able to depress your skin over soft tissue as far as right now.”

  “That doesn’t sound bad,” Rhona remarked.

  “There’s a side benefit for women.” Nanda patted her own breasts with both hands. “You’ll never have to worry about sagging.”

  Rhona smiled. “Even better.”

  Keene made a beckoning gesture while he pointed at the hologram with the other hand. “What’s the second part of the package?”

  Nanda gave another command and the hologram changed to display muscles, tendons, and bones. She pointed to several places while she talked. “The tendons and ligaments will be stronger and the tendons will root deeper in the bone. The bone de
nsity will increase slightly and it will be much stronger than your current bone.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” Sam paused and cleared his throat. “But, have you actually made the changes in anyone? I’m beginning to think I’m a lab rat.”

  “Suspicious, Sam?” Nanda chuckled. “However, you’re correct. You would be the first to make the changes. I watched the video of your knife fight in Italy captured by your shirt button camera. I’m going to make the changes to myself even if you all decline.”

  Rhona had watched Sam in one knife fight and she had viewed the video of Sam’s latest encounter. She had no desire to be on the receiving end of a knife cut, but that brought up different thoughts related to her medical training. “What happens if a person needs an appendectomy?”

  “That shouldn’t happen,” Nanda responded.

  “I know you possess better medicine than I am used to, but I was just wondering.” Rhona’s thoughts passed over her wedding plans and that brought other things to mind. “What about a Cesarean Section?”

  Nanda pressed her lips together, looked thoughtful for a moment, and then the corners of her mouth lifted. “The armor is hard to cut, not impossible to cut.”

  Keene chuckled. “Would you take a diamond-studded abrasive saw to it?”

  A wry look came over Nanda’s face. “That’s close to the truth. I’ll need to develop new surgery tools.”

  “Can you patch a cut job?” Sam asked.

  “That’s easy,” Nanda retorted. “You just…”

  “Whoa, whoa.” Rhona held up both hands. “We don’t need all of the technical details right now. But, can you stick a needle through the armor?”

  “We can inject through it, but not with a needle.”

  Rhona closed her eyes and she could still see the knife point flashing towards Sam’s chest. She turned a mental divide. She was already letting Nanda tinker with her body, and so far, she liked the results–liked them a lot. Without them, she would be dead or at least lack half of her kidney function–most likely in a wheelchair. She took a deep breath. “How long does the treatment take?”

  “About two years.”

  Trixie had been silent since they arrived in the infirmary, but she spoke up. “I’ll take the treatments.”

  “Count me in,” Sam added quickly and Keene echoed his words.

  “What the heck,” Rhona muttered, feeling rushed, but willing to take almost any action that could avert another stay in the infirmary. “I’m in, too.”

  “We can start right now,” Nanda said as she began issuing technical commands to the hovering AI. Moments later, she moved over to the injection machine and leaned against it. “Here goes.”

  Soon, Rhona was rubbing both of her deltoid muscles. The now routine DNA treatment went into one and the new armor injection went into the other. The injection sites felt smooth by the time Keene had received his shots. “I need to go for a run,” she said.

  “I’ll join you,” Keene said.

  “Me, too,” Sam added. He looked at Trixie. “Do you want to join us?”

  “No thanks,” she replied. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Once in the tunnel, the runners headed towards the region the mining equipment had used. The aedificium was almost finished lining the tunnel to the manufacturing complex with metal, but occasionally dust from the installation activities was bothersome to the runners. A thin strand of overhead LED lights provided just enough illumination they didn’t stumble.

  Rhona ran between the two men at a moderate pace so they could talk. Sam ran to her right, and he was in much better shape than when they had been hunting for Keene. No grey lurked in his short black hair or in his beard. Rhona glanced at him. “The DNA treatments are really helping you.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted. “I’m feeling great.”

  “I watched the video of your latest knife fight.”

  “I didn’t do too well.”

  “Wrong.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam demanded.

  “You stepped out of the way several times when those two men tried to gut you. You didn’t even get a scratch.” Rhona took three deep breaths before continuing. “Your reflexes are a lot faster than before.”

  Sam nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

  Rhona barked out a short laugh. “I was actually thinking about something else. What were the last three attacks we’ve faced?”

  “Knife attack in Italy,” Sam said immediately.

  “Someone tried to run you off the road,” Keene added. “Someone took a long-range shot at me when I visited Dodge City a week ago. They didn’t know about the armor on the vehicle.”

  Rhona pushed back her hair. She had forgotten the tie she used to hold it back when she ran. “Yep. The one before that, someone tried to kill Helen Pratt. Before that, someone killed Glenn and injured Helen.”

  “What are you thinking?” Keene asked.

  “Assuming the attackers in Italy were after Sam rather than Trixie or Marlee, all of those attacks were on humans. Humans who have a close association with the Abantu in Jetmore.”

  “That’s interesting,” Keene remarked. “Do you have a favorite hypothesis?”

  “I was thinking about your old boss.”

  “Nah,” Sam blurted. “I can see him coming after the three of us, but not Glenn and Helen.”

  “Why not?” Rhona asked.

  Sam shook his head. “The attack on Helen by the nurse doesn’t fit his profile.”

  “Maybe not,” Keene replied. “Is that a gut feeling or have you done some checking?”

  “Trixie and I–mostly Trixie–did a profile analysis of the person behind the attacks. Rucker’s profile doesn’t seem to match with the attacks on Glenn and Helen.”

  Rhona shook her head. “Why are we only considering one attacker? Why not two, or three?”

  Keene shot a look at Rhona. “Do you have a suggestion?”

  “I have four suspects.”

  “Who are they?” Sam demanded when she paused.

  “Your old boss, Scott Rucker. Air Force General Jack Breneman, Enzio Martin, and Senator Anthony Harper.”

  Keene nodded as their feet flashed along the tunnel bottom. “Breneman has a temper, but why bring him into this?”

  “What would he gain by killing us?” Sam asked.

  Rhona sucked in a deep breath. Their running pace was a lot faster than she had anticipated, certainly a lot faster than her old goal of five miles in thirty minutes. However, she had enough breath to keep talking. “He must not know about the Karthi Index. He must think he can get one of his people on the inside. Besides, I embarrassed him in front of the president.”

  “That’s a thin line of reasoning.”

  “Maybe,” Rhona countered. “Do you have any hypotheses?”

  “Of course,” Sam said and rolled his eyes. “Rucker’s profile matches with the attacks on all three of us.”

  Keene shook his head. “I don’t disagree, but Martin’s profile would seem to match all of the attacks.” He glanced at Rhona, “Why Senator Harper?”

  “None of his political or legal attempts to dislodge us have been successful. He may be stepping up the ante.”

  “Okay, but I wish we had the computer power to track down more supporting data.”

  Rhona’s forehead furrowed. “Are you getting dependent on the computers?”

  “They can collect and correlate huge volumes of data,” Keene replied. “However, Dulcis actually has rudimentary analysis algorithms, at least for problems with humans.”

  “Are you offering to write new ones?”

  Keene grinned as he wiped the sweat from his face. “Not me. I’m basically a head knocker. However, I plan on asking Dulcis to find us a programmer or two.”

  “What does Laura say?”

 
“She may not agree. I haven’t asked her. However, we need more people. Maybe we’ll find the right person when looking for other skills.”

  Sam laughed. “Do you think you can outwit Laura? I don’t…”

  Rhona interrupted. “That’s an interesting topic. Sometimes I think so, like when she muffed the things on your trip to Italy. Other times, I realize she has more long-range plans going than I can even visualize. Dulcis helps her keep track of details. What will she be able to do when the new AI comes online?”

  “Should we be worried?” Keene asked.

  “I don’t think so, but I plan to retain my skepticism.”

  “Good,” Sam said. He took a few deep breaths. “I’ve been working with Trixie. We’ve designed a network of sensors we can deploy around the edges of the embassy.”

  “Super sensors?” Rhona asked.

  Sam’s smile was so wide Rhona could see the back of his throat. “Light-years ahead of what we had in our van,” he said.

  Keene shook his head. “Do you need workers to install them?”

  “Of course.”

  Rhona rejoined the conversation. “Dulcis compiled Karthi scores on a huge number of people. We should be able to recruit more workers.”

  Keene sucked in a big breath of air. “I did some research on the scores. Laura won’t let us directly hire anyone below the 99th percentile. Anyone in a leadership position has to be at the 99.9th percentile or above. We’ll need those scores for millions of people.”

  “I knew she was picky,” Rhona replied. “I didn’t realize she was that picky.”

  “I’ve been thinking about this index thing,” Sam commented. “Not all the people at the top levels are saints.”

  “We know that,” Keene responded. “We’re in that group and we’re all killers.”

  “We defended ourselves when we attacked,” Rhona protested. “That’s different. We didn’t go out to cause mayhem on a lark.”

  “Agreed,” Sam replied. “She is looking for stability combined with a sense of fair play.”

  “She also wants people with backbone,” Keene added. “I checked the scores on a few people I know who I thought would score highly, but they let other people push them around. They didn’t score in the top ten percent.”