by H C Edwards
“Ah, Misao. You are back. I’m afraid I’m going to have to postpone hearing your report for just a little bit. I’m not feeling all that well at the moment and could use a brief respite.”
Indeed he did not look well at all. His skin was pale and sweaty, and his left hand appeared to tremble slightly as he reached up to wave at the door sensor.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but this can’t wait,” Misao said, again stopping him with her voice. “I need to talk to the council.”
Councilman Talbot sighed as he looked back at Misao.
“It’s always good news these days, it seems.”
“Not this time, I’m afraid,” Misao responded.
“Follow me to my room. My couch is calling but there is a conversation we must have at the same time. You can tell me your bad news and I can tell you mine, and then we can decide best what to do.”
The Savior
.
Is she aware?
On some level, yes. The sedatives were inhibiting the new vaccine so we had to do away with them. She’s drifting right now, partly here, partly in the Cloud.
She knows that I am here then?
She does…only…
Only?
Well, she’s aware to a certain degree. Drifting the Cloud even on a contained level is difficult to explain. What we have is a hyper altered state of consciousness, slightly similar to that of a person under hypnosis. The part of her that understands what is happening here is akin to her subconscious.
She won’t remember any of this when you bring her back?
She won’t recall this specifically, or if she does it will be as one recalls a dream. Right now she is on a conscious level far removed from here.
So she doesn’t feel the pain?
Precisely.
How are you certain?
We are monitoring her spinal neurotransmitters. If she were feeling anything we would see the movement on the dorsal horn right here.
I only agreed to this because you assured me she wouldn’t feel…the changes.
A promise I intend to keep.
Her color is off.
The hue is a side effect of the genetic restructuring taking place. The blood cells become saturated with-
I don’t need to know the specifics; just that it works.
This time it will. I’m certain of it.
How many of the others have received the vaccine?
All of them.
Keep me updated.
Of course.
And Hugh…
Yes?
Don’t fuck this one up.
“I want to see the cloud, Mom.”
“Well, Sweetheart, that’s not really possible. The Quantum Cloud is invisible.”
“What does invisible mean?”
“It means that you cannot see it.”
She thinks about it for a moment, letting the concept sink in.
“Do you mean like the stick bugs?”
Her mother smiles proudly down at her.
“Almost, Claire. The stick bug uses camouflage, which is a way of hiding by blending in with what’s around you. If I painted you all green and had you lie down real still in the grass, you would be camouflaged, but you would still be there. I could see you and kiss you and tickle you!”
She squeals from the attack.
“STOP IT, MOM!” she yells through the laughter.
After a few seconds it subsides, but she hasn’t forgotten her previous question.
“So what does invisible mean?”
“Well, invisible is when something is there but cannot be seen or touched, but is still real.”
“Like the Cloud.”
“That’s right, Sweetheart. Just like the Cloud.”
“What is the Cloud?”
“Well now, Love, that is very difficult to explain.”
“Try, please.”
She laughs.
“Ok, I’ll give it a shot. Let’s see…um, well, the Cloud is like a really big box, a place that stores all of our memories and thoughts, our personalities, everything that we are and have been.”
“How does it do that?”
“Every citizen has a chip near their brainstem, right here.”
She points to the base of her neck.
“It’s like a very small computer. Every couple of hours it sends information to the cloud.”
“From a person’s brain?”
“That’s right. Every thought we have or every feeling we experience is sent up to the Cloud for storage.”
“Why do they do that?”
“So that one day when a person dies their memory profile can be put into a synthetic.”
“Oh, you mean a QUBIT right, Mommy?”
“That’s right, Sweetheart.”
“So that means you can live forever?”
“Some people believe that, yes.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long time.
“Why are you so quiet, my Love?”
“I was just thinking…forever is a long long time right?”
“There is no time in forever.”
“So…what if you got tired of being alive forever?”
“Well, a lot of people do, and then there are a lot of people who don’t want to come back at all.”
“What do they do?”
“They sign a document that says they do not want to be in the Cloud anymore and then they are erased from it, so that they have only the one life.”
“So that means when they die…they die forever?”
“Yes, Love.”
“Then they go to heaven.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I was just wondering what I did to deserve such an amazing little girl.”
“I’m a big girl, Mommy. I’m three now.”
“I know, Sweetheart.”
“Claire, am I boring you?”
She looks at her father’s bemused expression and flashes him a half smile.
“I was just…what does Grandpa call it…woolgathering?”
He chuckles.
“What were you thinking about?”
There is a long pause in which she considers lying. She knows he’ll see right through it.
“Mom,” she finally replies.
“Ah…I see.”
“Sorry, Dad. You were saying that we couldn’t sustain in vitro gametogenesis because-“
“You know what?” he interrupts her. “I think I’m all scienced out. How about we talk about Mom for a bit?”
“It’s ok. I know you really don’t want to.”
She sees how the offhanded comment hurts him but she doesn’t take it back. He wipes a hand slowly down his face and nods as if he’s in agreement. She expects him to pick up their lesson again, except he doesn’t.
He wrings his hands before he responds.
“I…I owe you an apology,” he says slowly.
“For what?” she asks abrasively, hating herself for wanting to hurt him.
“For…being so weak,” he replies, his voice breaking on the last syllable.
She’s beginning to feel ill, like the time she was six and ate too much potato salad before going swimming in the Bay, back when things made sense as they only could to a small child.
“Dad…I-“
He holds up a hand to stop her.
“No more excuses. You deserve better than that. I…well, I thought it’d be best to not talk about her…”
He frowns, sniffs loudly as if to fight back tears.
“Better for you, better for me. I guess after awhile I started to believe that myself.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Like a drowning man misses the sky.”
“Did she…”
She bites her lip, uncertain how to proceed when she knows any answer will be painful to hear.
“It’s ok,” her father says. “There are no wrong questions today.”
“Did she
love us?”
Her father grabs her by the shoulders and turns her body until she is facing him.
“Look at me,” he says none too gently.
When she complies, his expression is intense.
“Never doubt how much she loved us, how much she loved you. You were her entire world.”
“Then why didn’t she come back to us?”
His expression softens.
“Oh…that question…”
“You don’t know?”
“I know, my little one…it’s just that…I kind of thought we had more time before this came up.”
“Dad, I’m seven years old. I’m smart enough to understand stuff.”
“There is a difference between being smart enough and being wise enough. You are definitely smart, a lot more than any child I have ever known, but that doesn’t mean you are wise enough to understand certain ‘stuff’, as you call it.”
“Mom would always say, give it a shot.”
He gives her a strange look, one she isn’t quite adept at deciphering. It begins to worry her until his face cracks into a grin.
Her father’s shoulders begin to shake then he throws his head back to the sky and laughs. When he again looks to her, he is wiping away tears from the corners of his eyes.
“Yes, she said that all the time. You have her persistence, that’s for sure.”
“Persistence is the key to hard answers.”
“Yes, she said that one too,” he responds sardonically. “Do you forget nothing?”
“I remember everything, Daddy…you know that.”
“I do...”
She reaches over, grabs his wrist, and gives it a squeeze, as she had seen her mother do so many times before.
“I want to understand, Daddy. Why didn’t she come back?”
He looks down at her hand holding onto him, his smile wistful.
“You know your mother’s will opted her out of the Cloud?”
It’s her turn to sigh.
“You’ve told me this before, Daddy. I want to know why.”
“Your mother believed in something not a lot of people believe in nowadays.”
“You mean in God.”
“That’s part of it, but not all. Your mother believed in the immortal soul, an amalgamation of consciousness, nature, and spirituality. These things are a testament to the Old World, in which people sought the answer to the meaning of life.”
“The meaning of life?”
He smirked.
“Let’s save that for another time. Suffice it to say that her beliefs did not adhere to the continued existence of a person’s consciousness past death, that once we have passed beyond this world we should not come back to it.”
“You mean she believed that once we are dead we should stay dead?”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“But what about the ones left behind? What about us?”
Her father grasped both of her hands in his, brought them up to his lips, and kissed them gently.
“Oh my love…your mother believed that death was only the beginning of consciousness, that once we passed beyond the realm of the physical, we would obtain a state of existence where all things once living came together as one.”
“Like heaven?”
“That…I don’t know. No one does.”
Her lips press together, brows constricting.
“What is it, Claire?”
“It’s just that…I mean…the Cloud is real. We know it is. But what you have told me…there’s no real proof…I mean, how do we know that Mom is right? What if there is no heaven? What if there isn’t a place we all go to? What if there’s nothing?”
“What if?”
“Then…” she choked on the word. “Then…she left us for nothing.”
“No, Claire…she believed we would all be together again. She knew it, just as she knew the sun would rise the next morning, even if she wasn’t there to see it.”
Her throat was closing up, the world becoming blurry.
“But how? How could she?”
He pulls her close to his chest, his strong arms enveloping her.
“Faith, my love…it’s called faith.”
“I have to warn you…the process is considered extremely painful.”
“I’ve read the reports, Grandpa.”
They are walking side by side along the banks of the reservoir, the warm sand between her toes, the sun on her back. It’s a breezy day, and with it comes the smell of salt and earth.
“You won’t be back here for a long time; even if the vaccine takes it’ll be months of tests. No work, contact with friends, no strolling in the gardens…walking on the beach.”
“I feel like you’re doing your best to talk me out of it.”
“Maybe I am,” he says heavily.
“Dad would have done the same.”
Her grandpa stops; places a hand on her shoulder.
“I wish he were here now.”
“You and I both,” she says, placing both hands on top of his.
They turn and continue walking down the beach, small waves lapping at their feet, the sounds of seagulls in the air.
“When do we start?” she asks.
“When you are ready. We have an entire experimental group; eleven others with similar genome possibilities, one generation down from a fertile set of parents.”
“Are any of them…”
“Only adults; volunteers, Claire. I promise you that, despite what grumblings you might have heard on the outer circle.”
She smiles at him.
“I believe in you, Grandpa.”
“Thank, my dear…I just,” he fumbles for words. “I don’t understand why you feel the need to be in this test group. If the results are positive we could have a new viable vaccine in months. Then you can throw your hat in, as they used to say.”
“I need to do something. You said yourself that my DNA has shown the most promise in preliminary tests. Dad used my blood as the basis for this new vaccine. I am the most logical choice we have, not to mention the best chance.”
“And if it doesn’t work then you would have suffered for naught.”
She frowns.
“We are all suffering, all afraid; the QUBITs as well, though they are better at hiding it. Even if it only works for me, we can synthesize a new vaccine from my blood. Each step brings us closer to the solution. My father felt that we were close, on the verge of a breakthrough. His team is certain of it, and after looking over the data I’m a believer.”
“You could die from it,” he replied gravely.
“There are worse things than dying.”
He rolls his eyes dramatically. She can’t help but laugh.
“There’s just one thing I need you to do for me,” she says hesitantly. “A little favor if you don’t mind.”
He stops in mid-stride and turns to her, eyebrows lifted in curiosity.
“Of course; anything at all.”
She reaches into her back pants pocket; withdrawing a folded piece of paper. She fiddles with it.
“There’s…a boy.”
“A boy?”
She smiles.
“Relax, Grandpa. It isn’t serious like that. I mean, not that I wouldn’t like it to be, someday, you know. He’s not like other guys, is what I’m trying to say.”
“I haven’t heard someone stumble this much over their speech since your father met your mother.”
“Well, it’s kind of complicated. He doesn’t quite…know…who I am.”
“Is he a figment of your imagination or you of his?”
She nudges him with her elbow.
“You’re a comedian.”
He sighs.
“I’m guessing you know who he is though.”
She smiles from the corner of her mouth.
“Yes. His name is Quentin.”
Her grandpa comes to a full stop, eyebrows raised.
“Surely you don’t mean Quentin Byrne?”
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“Maybe I do,” she said, raising her chin.
“And how did you two have the occasion to meet?”
“Does that really matter, Grandpa?”
“I’m more than mildly curious.”
“I just-“
She holds out the folded paper, expression resolute.
“I just need you to get this to him. And don’t worry, there’s nothing in there about what I’m doing. It’s only a letter.”
He takes the paper slowly and stares at it.
“Only a letter,” he says softly. “When was the last time anyone wrote a letter?”
He smiles sadly at her.
“You have so much of your mother in you, Claire.”
The letter disappears into his pocket. She hooks her arm in his and together they continue walking down the beach.
“Tell me something about her you haven’t told me before, Grandpa.”
Her eyes popped open, blurred orbs of colored light bringing instant tears. She blinked several times and tried to wipe them away but something was wrong with her arms. She couldn’t lift them; couldn’t feel them.
“Hello?” she managed to croak out.
The effort almost hurt. Her throat was like sandpaper, her tongue a piece of bark.
She opened her mouth to voice the salutation once more but choked on the dryness, producing a hacking cough instead.
The orbs of light were blinding and beginning to hurt her eyes. Again she tried to reach up but failed. There was a strap across her brow that prevented her from lifting her head.
“Someone please help me,” she whispered as loud as she could.
There was the hum of computers, blips and beeps; all around her the sounds of moans and whimpers, crying and pleading. The taste of copper was in her mouth, nose filled with the acrid smell of chemicals.
She felt panic, sharp and chaotic, and began to piston her body up and down, head thrashing wildly from side to side. Almost immediately the bonds holding her down gave way a few inches and she was able to yank out her left arm. It was heavy and detached, with only the sensation of needles prickling her fingertips, but it was enough to wrestle frenziedly with the strap over her brow until she finally forced it off her head.
Immediately, she batted away the goggles that were emitting the colored strobe lights, struggling into a seated position. The room she was in was dark, or at least dark compared to the flashing lights, and she could barely make out shapes past the spots in her vision.