The Other

by Matthew Buscemi

Sahaan did his best to tower over her, frowning. “What have you done to him?”

  She bit her lip. “We have injected him with a common sedative and a solution of nanites programmed with our best software for combating the de— nanite-bodied.”

  “What will it do to him?”

  “If he has any other nanites in him, it will destroy them.”

  Sahaan did his best to make his eyes spit fire. “What’s your name, doctor?”

  She finally seemed perturbed. “Anati Paape.”

  “And your supervisor?”

  She gave the name of a senior medical official in Mayor Samaapt’s government.

  “You had better hope, Dr. Paape, that Charles suffers no ill effects from these injections.”

  The male doctor, who’d been snarling, stepped forward.

  “Why are you protecting him? Let’s just disassemble him and be done with it.”

  Dr. Paape turned her head and had begun to reprimand him, but Sahaan cut her off. “We are not animals! We do not kill people trying to communicate with us just because we are scared of them! How dare we be so proud of our humanity, of how different we are from the nanite-bodied of a century ago, when we would stoop so low as to murder someone because they are different from us. And you call yourself a doctor? If I were the Reclamation Medical Consul I would have you thrown out on the street. Get out of here! The both of you. Paape, you stay.”

  Paape turned and glared at her two of her subordinates. With a swift tilt of her head toward the door, they were up the stairs and gone.

  “Dr. Ekeer—”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Paape! All I want to know is, presuming his biology is human, is there anything you can do for him right now that will stabilize his condition?”

  Dr. Paape took a long breath in and a long breath out. “If he is biologically human, then the second injection will be innocuous. The nanites only destroy other nanites. I would not want to try to wake him from sedation. It would be best for that to run its course. If he does not wake up naturally in four hours, then he will need medical attention. He needs to be monitored by an anesthesiologist during that time. You’ve just excused one.”

  “It’s going to stay that way. Thank you, doctor. You can go.”

  When she was gone, Sahaan called down one of the soldiers, and, with as much calm as he could manage, gave him instructions to request that the Citrine Central Hospital’s most morally upright and politically neutral anesthesiologist be sent to the bunker immediately, to be paid double for their time.

  He then sat down, looking at Charles’s unconscious form, splayed out on the bed, little swabs of cotton pinned to arm with medical tape. “You hang in there,” Sahaan said, hoping it would help.

  ~

  Within thirty minutes, the anesthesiologist arrived, a young man named Upayo Gee, who could not have been more than five years out of medical school. He seemed more nervous than Sahaan would care for in a doctor, but who, once Sahaan explained the situation, seemed to calm considerably and got to work on his patient.

  After a battery of tests, the doctor announced that Charles’s condition, presuming he was indeed biologically human, was completely normal, and that all that remained at this juncture was to wait for him to wake up.

  “You saw it, didn’t you?” Dr. Gee asked. “They said on the news you were there when he formed out of the wall.”

  Sahaan nodded. “One of the most incredible things I’ve seen in my entire life. Also one of the most frightening.”

  “Doesn’t seem like you frighten easily, though. The whole Aavee administration is like that. It’s too bad we can’t just have another term of his leadership.”

  Sahaan smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I really do. But those are the rules. How do you feel about Una?”

  “I’ll vote for her, of course.”

  “But?”

  “Well, she feels kind of… entrenched. A bit too old guard. People are looking for something new, something different. An end to this weird limbo we’re stuck in. We’ve got walls all around us, and we can’t expand them any further, but we can’t pull them back either. It’d be nice, for once, to just not have walls. To not have to worry about the nanite-bodied. But the world isn’t that simple.”

  Sahaan realized they were both staring at Charles now, watching his chest rise and fall, watching the medical display that Dr. Gee had hooked up to him and listening to its faint, repetitive blips.

  “It might not ever be simple,” Sahaan said. “But we need government to be competent enough to navigate its complexity. So that we don’t end up with murdered emissaries. I was so stupid to leave him alone here.”

  “It’s not your fault our mayor is a reactionary.” Dr. Gee tapped his foot.

  “It’s my job to think of these things in time.”

  “What will you do about the rest of tonight?”

  “I’ve got a friend coming in from Portal City. Another member of the cabinet. … Doctor, there’s one more thing I need to ask you. Before Charles wakes up.”

  “Yes?”

  “So far we’ve been assuming that Charles is biologically human. Have you seen anything so far that would suggest otherwise?”

  Dr. Gee shook his head silently.

  “Thank you.”

  They continued talking on an off for about three hours, Dr. Gee sharing stories from his time in medical school, which, Sahaan had guessed more-or-less correctly, he’d completed three years prior. Sahaan also told stories about Lachel and Jaan.

  Finally, Charles began to stir, and Dr. Gee once again got to work, watching all of his vitals. Charles’s eyes fluttered open, and he shot up in his bed, breathing heavily.

  “Easy now,” Dr. Gee put a hand on Charles’s shoulder.

  Charles jerked away from the touch.

  “Dr. Ekeer?!” Charles called out.

  “I’m here, Charles.”

  “The doctors…” Charles’s eyes darted around.

  “This is Dr. Gee. The other doctors are gone.”

  At that, Charles calmed significantly. Dr. Gee reached out again for Charles’s shoulder and guided his torso back down toward the bed.

  “I’m sorry about that, Charles,” Sahaan said. “I won’t leave you alone again.”

  Dr. Gee gave Charles water and some crackers, then took his blood pressure. He later had him take off his shirt and checked his lungs with a stethoscope. The medical instrument blipped throughout, and when Dr. Gee was done, he turned it off, and told Charles he could remove the patches from his arms, legs, and chest where it was connected.

  “You’re fine,” Dr. Gee announced, much to Sahaan’s relief.

  Charles smiled as well. “Thank you, Dr. Gee.”

  “Just doing my job.” Dr. Gee proceeded to pack up his equipment, letting Sahaan know that he could be called back at any time if Charles’s condition were to change.

  Sahaan thanked the doctor, and returned to his seat at the table. Charles stretched, got out of the bed, and joined him.

  “You hungry?” Sahaan asked.

  Charles nodded.

  Sahaan looked up at the guards, who acknowledged the request and took to their handhelds.

  “How long has it been?” Charles asked.

  “About three and a half hours.”

  “I definitely didn’t mean to sleep that long.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “They sedated me?”

  Sahaan nodded.

  “Anything… else?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was it?”

  “Nanites. Programmed to destroy all other kinds of nanites.”

  Charles frowned, but nodded.

  “Yeah,” Charles said. “That won’t do anything.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Charles nodded again, more vigorously. “Oh, yes. Physically I’m just like everyone else here.”

  “You seem pretty certain of that.”

  “I remember that that was the idea. We were pretty
sure it was the only way to make communication possible. And it’s also why I have trouble remembering things.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Like I said, we don’t talk like this. I mean, we do talk, but not with sound. It’s data transmission over RF. Digital radio signals. It’s faster, but, in my opinion, inelegant. And… well… damn, how can I explain? Oh, okay. So, you’re Dr. Ekeer, right? Doctor is your title?”

  “Yes.”

  “The word for ’doctor’ in the kind of speech I’m describing isn’t a word at all. What I would do, if I had the title of doctor, is attach a provisioning file to all of my speech acts, and the file would contain my credentials. Others would return a digitally signed copy of that provisioning file to me in their responses. If someone wanted to be really rude, they could refuse to digitally sign the provision or even omit it from their communication. This would be the equivalent of me refusing to call you ‘doctor’ and just using your first name. Or saying, ‘hey, you.’”

  “I’m astounded you can speak our language at all.”

  “I… solved that somehow. What’s frustrating is remembering the general shape of my life, the events, the contours of emotion, but specific conversations, pieces of data, is all a blur. Just thinking about it—” Charles stretched out his arms and released a wide yawn. “—makes me sleepy.”

  The door atop the balcony clanged open, and new soldiers entered, one carrying a tray. The soldier with the tray descended and sat it down across from Charles. Atop it lay a steak, a salad, a small jar of sauce, and a glass of sparkling water.

  “Set that here,” Sahaan ordered the guard, who looked up at the balcony.

  “I said, put it in front of me,” Sahaan said.

  The soldier complied.

  Sahaan noticed multiple guards on the balcony pull up their handhelds and begin muttering furiously into them.

  “I’m going to sample everything,” Sahaan said, taking up the silverware. He cut himself a piece of the steak and held it up. “I mean it,” he called up to the balcony. “If there’s any reason I should not put this steak in my mouth, it would be best to tell me now.”

  “Sir,” one of the guards called down. “Please hold a moment.”

  He walked down the stairs, approached the table, then whispered in Sahaan’s ear. “We are mostly certain about these cooks. Mostly. But if you want us to be absolutely sure, we will need to call someone else in.”

  “Please do that,” Sahaan whispered back.

  The soldier took the tray back with him.

  Charles stared across the table at Sahaan, his expression difficult to read. Not upset. Perhaps disappointed. But only somewhat.

  “Do the nanite-bodied handle fear any better than us?” Sahaan asked as casually as he could.

  “From what I have seen,” Charles said, “No. They— we haven’t figured out how to evolve out of that one yet.”

  Sahaan tried a weak smile. “Something we still have in common, then.”

  ~

  A new dinner was delivered about an hour later. Sahaan taste-tested everything, but this time the guards didn’t stop him. He handed the meal over to Charles, who at first eyed it warily, then picked up a fork, holding it around the base with his fist. He stabbed into the steak, pulled at it at a bit, then took up the knife in a similar grip and began stabbing at the meat. He kept at that for about a minute, then gave up on the silverware entirely and proceeded to stuff the steak into his mouth with his hands.

  Sahaan wondered out loud about meal etiquette amongst the nanite-bodied, to which Charles replied that none of them had needed to eat in over a hundred years. They had multiple ways of recharging instead. One could do so wirelessly, which was something akin to fast food. A “real meal” consisted of injecting oneself with packets that provided energy of varying frequency and modulation patterns.

  Charles grinned over his new steak.

  “What is it?” Sahaan asked.

  “Well,” Charles wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I remember thinking about this beforehand—you know, having to eat. To be perfectly honest, I found the concept a bit… revolting.”

  “I take it the experience of it has proved somewhat better than that.”

  “Taste is amazing! I love it.”

  “There are a lot of different foods you can try.”

  Charles furrowed his brow.

  “Yes?”

  Charles finished tearing through the steak with his teeth, chewed, and swallowed. “Just something… I’m not sure. My main reason for coming here was to make contact, of course. But there’s something else…” He shook his head and tore into the steak again. His expressive remained pensive while he chewed and swallowed. “I can’t remember. Maybe something to do with my job?”

  “What was your job?”

  A long silence while Charles tore into the steak and chewed again, looking off over Sahaan’s shoulder. After he swallowed, he sat for a long time. “A scientist, maybe. Something like that. In a sense, we’re all programmers. But I worked on the code that organized the information in a database. I think it had something to do with atoms.”

  Charles finished up the last of the steak, then paused, his eyes wide with surprise, then all at once he released a loud belch. He put a hand to his chest and looked at Sahaan with a concerned expression. “Was that normal?”

  Sahaan almost laughed. “Yes. But… well, people usually hold it in.”

  Charles frowned, and Sahaan worried that he’d insulted him. But then, Charles interjected, “we gave up too much.”

  “Do you mean the nanite-bodied quest for perfection?”

  Charles nodded. “I have to admit, there are perks. If only I could give you the experience of our internet. I’m not sure it’s even describable with your words.” Charles shook his head. “What’s your job, Dr. Ekeer?”

  “I’m on the president’s staff.”

  Charles’s eyes went wide. “The president? Of the whole Reclamation?”

  Sahaan nodded.

  “And the government is in Portal City?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you do for the president?”

  “I write most of his speeches. Whenever we have guests from other cities, I make sure that all the accommodations are taken care of. I advise him on policy. That kind of thing.”

  “Sounds like a hard job. I’ve never been able to imagine myself in politics.”

  “What are your politics like? Do you have a president?”

  Charles bunched up his brow. “That’s— No? I think? I’m not sure. Politics is hard for me to think about.” Charles yawned widely, not covering his mouth.

  “Do you have political parties?”

  Charles frowned, staring into space for many moments, then shook his head. “I’m not sure. Sort of. Probably. How about the Reclamation? I take it you continued a Veda-style government?”

  Sahaan nodded. “There are some differences, but basically, yes. We have two major political parties, Reconciliation and Guardian.”

  “Which are you?”

  “I’m part of the Reconciliation party.”

  Charles’s expression turned apprehensive. “Reconciliation because… you want to contact… us?”

  Sahaan nodded. “And Guardian wants…?”

  “More walls,” Sahaan said softly.

  Charles frowned.

  “Can you blame them?” Sahaan asked.

  “No, I suppose not. If I were… if I had been homo sapiens sapiens from birth, I would probably want more walls, too.”

  Sahaan silently remarked to himself Charles using the term homo sapiens sapiens instead of the old term homo sapiens inferus, which the nanite-bodied had lobbed around with wild abandon a hundred years ago during the hostilities, while Sahaan’s own ancestors had used ‘deranged’ to describe the nanite-bodied.

  “Not all of us do,” Sahaan remarked. “In fact, a sizable chunk of us don’t.”

  Charles nodded. He eyed the salad on his plate, looked at Sahaan
, then at the salad again. Finally, he said, “Can you show me how to use that utensil? The only other thing I can think to do with these leaves is put my face in them.”

  Sahaan let out a small laugh and proceeded to instruct Charles on how to use a fork.

  ~

  Sahaan and Charles talked for some time after Charles finished his meal. Charles detailed more differences between nanite-bodied and homo sapiens sapiens, such as not needing to sleep and extended lifespan. The nanite-bodied who Sahaan’s great-great-grandfather had spoken to were only just now starting to die of old age. Rather than becoming androids, they’d sought instead to perfect the biological. Immortality, it seemed, remained out of reach.

  In return, Sahaan gave Charles a rundown of his daily duties for the president. The topic of the election came up, and Sahaan told Charles about the Guardian candidate Abhiman Gadh, but left out the part about Charles’s appearance swinging the election in his favor.

  Another topic Sahaan avoided was that of his ancestry. Sahaan’s last name wouldn’t be noticeable to Charles, but his paternal grandmother’s maiden name would be. She had been the daughter of Mox Thiksay, son of Stok Thiksay, the one who’d been responsible for bringing the wall technology from Alterra to Asura, the one who’d made the Reclamation possible. Without the help of the Alterran government, it was widely believed that the nanite-bodied would have been able to break through the defenses of all the remaining military installations and convert their inhabitants into nanite-bodied. Even if Charles had chosen to give up his prior form and take a homo sapiens sapiens body, Sahaan wasn’t willing to take the risk of telling Charles about that particular piece of his biography just yet.

  The more they talked, the more Charles yawned and complained of feeling light-headed. Eventually, he insisted on lying down, upon which he promptly fell asleep and began snoring.

  Sahaan sat at the table, leaned back in his chair, and went over the evening in his mind. Charles was such a conundrum. The idea of meeting the nanite-bodied face-to-face had been part of the Reclamation’s cultural imagination for decades. Novels and television shows had explored fictional scenarios that had made it possible. Never had such stories imagined the nanite-bodied taking the form of human children with poor motor control and lacking table manners.