Hyper

by Lawrence Ambrose

  But the bigger surprise was that Ragnar thought I could play at that level.

  "You're serious?" I asked.

  "Since when have you seen me be not serious?"

  He laughed, and so did Meredith and Jim, though Meredith had a worried line between her eyes, as if she doubted the propriety or sanity of his comment about me.

  "Only the elite of the elite make it in professional sports," she said. "But Aiden has all the tools to make it as a scientist. I'd hate to see him distracted from that."

  "You mean, for example, like being treated as a lab rat and golden goose by CellEvolve?" Ragnar was smiling, but it was the toothy smile of a shark before it chomped on you.

  Meredith's smile was cool. "But then CE is also underwriting his education. Anyhow – and I don't mean to be a Debbie Downer, Aiden" – her smile warmed a little – "but that doesn't change my point about the probability of succeeding as a professional athlete."

  "What's the probability of being hyper?" Ragnar asked.

  "Low," she said in a grudging tone.

  "Exactly. You know as well as I do that being hyper improves stamina and other athletic abilities. It's not that much of a stretch that Aiden could make it in the NBA, is it?"

  "Right on," said Jim, with a nervous glance at Meredith. His gaze had been bouncing between the two as if he couldn't decide which archetype of beauty or charisma to settle on. "He has the speed and hops – and he sure as heck has the brains. If he keeps improving, why not?"

  I gave Jim a glum nod of thanks before facing the Kings' superstar.

  "Okay, Ragnar," I said, "being completely honest – do you actually believe I could make it in the NBA?"

  "Honestly?" He grinned. "I expect you to be starting alongside me two or three years from now. I'd only be twenty-five going on twenty-six. We could have a lot of good years playing together."

  It was a strangely beautiful fantasy. I was surprised by how much it hooked me. But I was determined to keep a rational perspective.

  "You're saying that because we're friends," I said. "I don't think you're being objective."

  "Ha, well, maybe you're right," Ragnar said with a laugh. "Maybe it's just a personal fantasy. But I've learned to trust my gut instincts, Aid, and my gut is telling me this can happen. And if I put in a good word for you with the front office, they would listen. I have a fair amount of clout with this organization."

  "No kidding," said Jim. "I wonder what they'd say if you did that?"

  "Only one way to find out." Ragnar flashed his Cheshire cat grin.

  "How would you feel about that, Aiden?" Meredith asked.

  I turned away from her pointed stare to the glare coming off the pool. I waited for my thoughts to coalesce. I sensed Meredith's "big sister" concern for my welfare, but it felt a bit patronizing.

  "I don't know," I said. "I've never considered it before. I know I don't want to give up science. I want to do something that makes a difference in the world."

  "Nothing to say you couldn't have both," said Ragnar. "I'm sure you've noticed that people's athletic careers only cover a small part of their lives. Plenty of time to do other things."

  "What are you planning to do when you're not playing basketball anymore?" I asked.

  "Surgeon," Ragnar replied with a straight face and no hesitation. "Or maybe an astrophysicist. Or I could open up a hyper bordello."

  "Or you could combine all three?" said Meredith, with a tepid smile.

  "Why not?" Ragnar laughed. "We don't have to follow the course that people set for us. Almost anything is possible."

  I sensed a subtext to my friends' exchanges, but the last thing I wanted was to get involved in sorting it out. I had enough relationship issues of my own.

  "Speaking of 'set courses,'" said Ragnar to me, "Merry's been telling me that CellEvolve's got a new miracle drug in development, the second coming of Revive..." I heard a thumping sound under the table, and Ragnar winced. Meredith was shooting him a warning glance that included an eye movement toward Jim. "What? It's a publicly issued drug."

  "Yeah, my mom mentioned it," I said. "They're calling it Reprise. My mom hasn't told me anything other than that it's based on Revive and is hopefully correcting some of its issues. I guess Max Emanuel and company will be selling it to investors at the Marion Ellsworth Retreat Conference in a few weeks, which Meredith will be taking me to."

  "You and a few others," said Meredith. "I'll be driving some potential investors up there with us. About the same arrangement as before – we've got a cabin reserved for us."

  "Gee, I wouldn't mind spending a long weekend up there with you in that cabin." Ragnar stuck out his lower lip. "But I'm not invited."

  Meredith responded with a short laugh. "Talk about a bull in a china shop. Not that CE wouldn't love you as their poster boy, but I don't think they'd appreciate you telling everyone how evil CellEvolve and other corporations are."

  Someone's cell – not mine – rang. Both Meredith and Ragnar reached for theirs, but it was Jim who dragged out the ringing phone.

  "Oh, shit," he muttered before answering. "Mom?"

  Jim's growing frown made me think the news wasn't good.

  "Okay, Mom. Be there as soon as I can." He ended the call with a sigh and faced us. "Her car won't start. She needs a lift to work."

  "She can't drive your car?" I asked.

  "It's a stick." Jim shrugged tragically. "Sorry guys. Sorry, Aid."

  "That's okay," I forced out. I'd been really looking forward to this evening, damn it. "I'll take you home now."

  "It's just she's afraid of missing work," said Jim. "I'd say screw it, but her parole officer has already got on her case about keeping a job."

  Ragnar nodded – he knew some of the story with Jim's mother – but Meredith's brow knotted with concern and surprise. Jim's mom, Teresa, had been struggling with alcohol for years since his father died suddenly of liver cancer. She'd recently collected her second DUI, and her driving privilege was limited to work and other critical outings – and required one sobriety test a day at the Jefferson PD. When I complained about my family situation I often stopped my ungrateful thoughts by thinking about him and his mom.

  We were both standing up when Meredith announced, "I'll take him. You two" – she smiled at me and Ragnar – "would probably like some time alone anyway."

  I hesitated, glancing uncertainly from Jim to Ragnar.

  "That's cool by me," said Jim. "Thanks, Meredith. My mom really needs a mom – a mom and a dad – if you know what I mean."

  "From what I've seen a lot of parents could use parents."

  "Okay, uh...thanks for the seats, Ragnar. Great game." He nodded to me. "See you at school, dude."

  "Good luck with your mom."

  They walked off – Jim glancing back at me with a "What's going on?" uncertain smile. Ragnar chuckled under his breath. I couldn't tell if it was an annoyed or amused chuckle, and his bland smile didn't give him away.

  "Hungry?" he asked.

  "Definitely."

  "I'll get the steaks going. The rest is about ready."

  I accompanied him to the massive stainless steel grill on its own elevated cemented podium. He twisted a couple of dials and removed a plate of one-inch thick steaks. A vegetable smell issued from its bottom oven compartment. Corn? Artichokes?

  "I caught you by surprise with my vision of your future NBA greatness?" he asked.

  "Yeah. You were always encouraging, but I never thought you seriously believed I had that much potential. I'm still not sure you're really serious."

  "Hey, well, I'm not saying you don't have a long ways to go or that I know where you'd end up." He slapped our steaks on the grill, giving me a rueful smile. "Right now I'm just hoping you don't get any taller than me."

  I smiled at him. "I'm only six feet. But in the NBA, even if I get taller, I'd just be an average athlete, unlike you."

  "Look at Steven Nash, or Stephen Curry. You're as good physically as they are, probably better. It'
s not all about leaping ability or speed. A lot of guys can jump out off the planet and still can't do shit in the NBA. All you need is to meet the basic physical requirements of running up and down the floor and jumping high enough to avoid getting too many of your shots blocked. The rest is skill: shooting accuracy, assists, making the right play at the right time. The mental part of the game, and that's where I think you could kick ass."

  I found myself half-nodding along with him, wanting to believe.

  "I guess I could keep practicing and see where I end up," I said.

  Ragnar shook his head. "To reach the point I'm talking about, you'll need to do more than some casual practicing, Aid. You'll need to make a total commitment: live and breathe basketball, study tapes of games and players, and not just of today's players. Study the classics – Jordan, Larry, Magic, Russell, West, and Chamberlain. Those guys knew some things."

  "I already watch tapes, old and new." I shrugged. "But making a total commitment – well, I'm not ready to do that."

  "Then..." He raised his shoulders and gave me a mock-sad smile. "Research scientist it is."

  That kind of pissed me off, but I kept my mouth shut. I knew he was right – you don't become one of the best at anything without committing a lot of time and effort – but I didn't appreciate his equation: Do it my way or you'll fail.

  "So what's new with you?" Ragnar asked. "Staying out of trouble?"

  It struck me then that Ragnar was the only person I could talk to about that Friday night and that I'd sorely wanted to talk about it.

  "Not quite," I said with a small smile.

  He laughed and shook his head as I told him about my little police-evasion adventure.

  "It's funny," he said, after I'd finished, "for a guy with a sky-high IQ, you sure have a way of almost shooting yourself in the foot."

  "I know." I hung my head. "But maybe something good came of it?"

  "That Georgia Selby chick?"

  "I don't think I'm at much risk with her." I hesitated. "She's the only woman who's ever almost matched me, Ragnar."

  "Right. The one woman who can equal our sex drive – the mythical hyper Holy Grail."

  "It didn't feel much like a myth that night."

  "For that night, maybe. But the night after that, and the night after that – not so much." Ragnar pursed his lips as if considering whether he should say more. "It was that way with Meredith at first. The closest I'd ever come – "

  "Okay, I get it," I cut him off, not wanting to hear the details.

  Ragnar chuckled. "I get it, too. Merry is like your older sister. She's a good lady – my favorite so far. But one problem is that because she's thirty-one she kind of sees herself as my older sister, too. You might've noticed a bit of tension in the air between us today."

  "Yeah. I noticed she wasn't happy when you started talking about CellEvolve and Reprise."

  "She was worried about polluting Jim's innocent ears or violating some rule of propriety, I guess. Bax Pharm has a stake in what happens with Reprise. It has some mysterious anti-MES program of its own. Anyway, as you know, I'm not into all that secrecy bullshit. And sometimes she acts like I'm a little kid who needs to be shushed, which I really don't appreciate."

  "Did she kick you under the table?"

  "You noticed." His smile wilted. "Another more basic problem is that she can't match my sexual energy but wants me to be completely exclusive to her."

  "But I thought that's what you wanted – to be with that one special person?"

  "Really? When did I ever say that?"

  "Well, you said you were being tired of being thought of as a human vibrator..."

  "Doesn't change the fact I'm a 'special needs' person, man. We both are. And one woman can't meet those needs."

  "There's always Melatin or Normex. And, uh, going solo."

  "We both know those things don't cut it."

  "I've been going without for months until that night," I protested. "I don't think we have to be ruled by our basic urges."

  Ragnar flashed me a knowing smile. "And how were those months?"

  "Well, like, uh..."

  "Hell?" He laughed.

  I laughed with him, though my laugh was more pained. "Yeah. A little like that. But I didn't see a lot of good options."

  "Maybe Georgia Selby could offer one. She would never dare report you, and as a major corporate lawyer must know how to handle herself." Ragnar stroked his chin. "She does sound interesting, I have to admit. I've even frequented Narcissus clubs once or twice myself. Classy operation."

  "Do you think I should call her?" I'd been debating that for the last few days.

  "Nope. That puts her in the power position. You need to establish from the start who's in charge. Wait for her to call you, and if she doesn't, forget about her and move on."

  "Move on to what?"

  "Good question. Let's discuss it over some brain food."

  We returned to the table with our steaks, corn on the cob, grilled potatoes, and a tray of fresh fruit. He popped a pair of beers and slid one over to me.

  "To women." He held up his beer.

  "Yeah." I tried to lift my dour expression. "Women."

  Ragnar reached across and patted my shoulder. "We're not cursed, dude. We're the winners in the genetic lottery. And you'd don't have to resort to hanging around outside a nightclub surrounded by cops. Have you ever heard of the Hypersphere? You could find a dozen discreet, gorgeous women who would love to be with you."

  "I've checked the Hypersphere out a little. It seemed pretty intimidating. And what happens when one of my dates finds out I'm only sixteen?"

  Ragnar shrugged. "That might scare a few away. But I don't see you having any trouble filling your quota."

  "The more women I saw, the higher the probability of being caught. Maybe they wouldn't tell, but their boyfriends or husbands might."

  Ragnar nodded, his expression turning reflective. "Good point. Almost all of them would have husbands or boyfriends. You'd have to be careful about where you hook up – make sure there are no witnesses or any possibility of an angry dude bursting in on you like with that college student."

  I rubbed the back of my head. The beer buzz and delicious steak weren't relaxing me as much as I would've liked.

  "You don't think that's kind of unethical?" I still remembered the horrified expression on Mary's boyfriend's face when he opened her bedroom door. "I mean, being part of that dishonesty? Helping them cheat on their boyfriends or husbands?"

  "That's why I love you, dude," said Ragnar. "You have honor. So make it a condition that they're single or in a non-exclusive relationship. Of course, they'll lie to you, but that will be on them."

  I let out a skeptical snort. He held up his hands.

  "I'm not trying to convince you to do anything, Aid. I'm just pointing out that you have options, safer ways of filling your needs. And unlike your mom, I know they're probably too powerful to keep entirely in check, no matter how strong your willpower."

  "I'm starting to believe you're right about that."

  "It's not ideal, but I say we embrace who we are. To hypers."

  He raised his beer again and I gave mine a half-hearted hoist.

  Chapter 23

  MY MOM CONFIRMED THAT Reprise was in the final stages of animal testing, with a minimum of side-effects so far. I actually had to work to pry those words out of her. It hit me then how close-lipped my mom had been about CE in recent months. In the past, we'd often shared quiet conferences outside of Melanie's bat-ears about the state of her research and CellEvolve politics, but those conversations had dwindled to a stray comment here and there and finally silence. I hadn't been much motivated to disturb that silence. A large part of me wanted CE and all its ominous mysteries to just fade out of my life and become part of a dubious past.

  It was only when Dr. Alan Blumenthal called asking me to come back to CE for a conference that my mom broke her silence.

  "Look, Aiden," she said, her eyes shifting away
from mine, "you have to understand that the breakthrough we made with you in my lab was handed over to Development" – CE's development division – "and from that point it's been mostly out of my hands. I've consulted with them a few times, but the development people had their own ideas – or their own orders – and weren't really interested in my input."

  "So what happened?" I was almost afraid to ask.

  "I don't know the details, but basically some serum production issues arose during the plasmid cloning process which they tried to eliminate or reduce by vectoring in a new genetic structure." My mom's lips curled in distaste or fear. "That's when I was cut out of the loop. My only clue about what's going on now is what I'm being asked to do in my lab, which is essentially to further distill our original samples to the purest possible state."

  Samples. The word raised some colorful images.

  "Do you know why Dr. Blumenthal wants to see me?" I asked.

  "I have an idea." My mom still wasn't meeting my eyes, which provided an unpleasant clue.

  "More samples?"

  She finally raised her gaze to meet mine. "That would be my guess."

  "When were you planning to tell me about this?"

  "When I knew for certain. I've let Alan know that I'm opposed to resuming that particular, um, project. His only response was: 'That's understandable.' I decided not to make a scene about it until it became a reality." She regarded me with cautious eyes. "How do you feel about that possibility?"

  I hated myself for the small tingling rush as I thought about it. It had been pretty incredible at first. Sexy girls servicing me like I was a prized stud horse. Then I started feeling more like a horse's ass.

  "I don't think I'd agree to it," I said. "One of the people committed suicide...supposedly. I don't want any more of that on my conscience."

  "It shouldn't be. She made her own choices, Aiden. She was thirty-three years old and you weren't even sixteen when you first met her. You're the innocent in all this, not her or any of the others."