“Fine,” Celestia said.
“Hello, Zeriphi,” said Doug.
“Doug. I remember you.”
“And I remember you.” Doug looked from Zeriphi to Celestia. “Where’s your brother?”
Zeriphi answered, “Paddon’s watching Zander.”
Doug nodded as he returned his attention to Celestia. “Are you going to show me around the colony again today?”
“Mommy says I have to go to school, but we can have breakfast together and I can see you after.”
“Okay.”
Celestia lifted her arms, indicating that she wanted him to pick her up. As he lifted her, he was surprised again at how light she was. It was easy to forget that Mars’ gravity was only thirty-eight percent of Earth’s. She probably would seem heavy back home.
He walked beside Zeriphi to the mess area, Celestia’s arms around his neck. His daughter pointed out the hybrid plants lining the tunnel—blueberry, raspberry and blackberry—and she identified each variety by pointing out the differences in their leaves. He found her knowledge astounding even though he knew how important learning was to the Escala.
Zeriphi walked stiffly, saying nothing. Was she letting him bond with Celestia or did she have nothing to say to him?
The mess area was about half full—Escala gathered in clusters by age, the older Escala sitting at one table, a group of male teenagers at another, another group of female teens at the table beside them, then a few families sitting by themselves. It looked normal and for that reason seemed out of place.
Doug collected his food tray while Zeriphi got one for herself and their daughter. Settling beside Celestia across the table from Zeriphi, Doug mostly watched Celestia eat. He managed to choke down some berries and bread, made with a variety of grains grown in an aquaponic bay. But he had little appetite. Nor did Zeriphi, it seemed. She ate no more than he did.
Even Celestia picked up on the mood of the two adults and quieted down, finishing her meal and giving Doug a brief squeeze before wandering off to school.
For a moment after she left Doug said nothing. He just looked at Zeriphi.
“I’m sorry, Doug,” Zeriphi said.
“For what?”
“I thought I could handle you being here. I thought, now that I’m with Paddon, that your presence wouldn’t bother me.”
So she and Paddon were a couple.
“I’m not here to win you over,” Doug said, trying his best to sound sincere.
“I know. But your being here reminds me of Zod. I can’t focus on my work. I have no appetite. I want to lie in my bed and wait for death. I realize that’s my problem, not yours. But it’s how I feel.”
“I wish you had told me before I left Earth that this might be an issue for you.”
“I honestly didn’t think it would be.”
“Well, I’m stuck up here for the next two years. Do you want me to see if I can live with the miners for the rest of my stay?”
To his surprise, she seemed to be thinking about it. After a long moment, she said, “That won’t be necessary. Paddon can handle your visits while I’m in the lab. Wellon will handle your physical exam today. What are you going to do after that?”
Doug had no idea how to answer her. He’d thought, of course, about what he ought to do to keep himself busy while he was here on Mars, but he hadn’t come up with a good plan, other than to win over Zeriphi and get to know Celestia. But apparently Zeriphi was sickened by the sight of him.
Before Doug left Earth, Devereaux had suggested he compile a record of the Escala and what they did. He had nodded his agreement, with no intention of following through, but now he thought that might be a good idea.
“I want to talk to Quekri,” he said, “about documenting the Escala journey to Mars—how it came to be, what you do in any given day, what your plans for the future are. A lot of people on Earth would be interested in learning that.”
“That seems like a good idea,” said Zeriphi. She looked away and Doug turned to see Dr. Wellon standing at the entrance. “Looks like she’s ready for you now,” Zeriphi added.
Doug nodded. He got to his feet and stood for a moment with his tray in his hand, but he had no idea what to say to her, what might make her feel better, so he walked away, depositing his tray in the washer/recycler by the entrance.
“Hello, Doug,” Dr. Wellon said.
“Hello? Not ‘I remember you’?”
“That’s a more formal greeting. I prefer hello for casual contacts, if that’s okay with you.”
“It’s fine.”
“Shall we?” Dr. Wellon gestured for Doug to walk with her. “Devereaux told me about your project, documenting our experience.”
“When did he do that?”
“Some time ago,” Dr. Wellon replied. As they walked along the tunnel to her office, she said, “Do you have a separate camera or will you be using your PlusPhone?”
“Um . . .”
“I’ve got a tri-camera you can use if you like. It gives a better 3-D effect than a PlusPhone, though it still won’t give you a high-quality holo-projection image.”
“Thank you,” Doug said. “That’s very kind of you.”
“You’re welcome. Though I’m doing it more for Zeriphi than for you.”
“For Zeriphi?”
“She doesn’t wish to hurt you,” Dr. Wellon said as they reached her lab area.
The room, or cave, was about fifteen by twenty feet, with equipment lining every wall. When Doug entered, Dr. Wellon pushed a button and activated a shimmer light behind him, blocking off the tunnel from the room. She selected a scanner from a shelf.
“I’m sure she doesn’t,” Doug replied.
“She told you that she finds it painful to be around you,” said Dr. Wellon.
“Yes, just now.”
“Good. Best to rip the bandage off straight away. Now let’s have a look at you.”
Dr. Wellon held the scanner to Doug’s torso and studied it, humming softly: a tuneless hum that was almost a purr, like some giant cat.
Doug stood still, not certain if he was allowed to speak. His previous physicals had been more intrusive, with more instruction from the medical techs as to what he should do.
After a long moment, Dr. Wellon removed the scanner and said, “Hmm.”
“Is there a problem?” Doug asked.
“You have the Susquehanna Virus,” Dr. Wellon said.
Doug felt like he’d just been punched in the stomach. “But that’s impossible. Two doctors checked me out before I boarded the MineStar ship and I was cleared.”
“That may well be,” Dr. Wellon conceded, “but you have it now.”
“How could that have happened?”
“You may have contracted it on the ship.”
“But the MineStar workers were all cleared too.”
Dr. Wellon nodded. “I wonder how good their analytical equipment is.”
“You mean, one of the miners might have been infected and they didn’t catch it?”
“That’s a possibility.”
“Am I going to die?”
“Eventually,” Dr. Wellon said. “Not for a good long while if I have anything to say about it. I think it’s time we paid the miners a visit. We have to see how many of them are carrying the virus before they spread it around and infect everyone.”
“But aren’t you immune?”
“So far. Viruses have a nasty habit of mutating, and the Susquehanna Virus is more mutable than most. I’m not sure if that was part of its design or if it simply evolved that way, but it’s quite pesky.”
“Do you think there’s a chance I’ll end up like Devereaux—trapped in a robot’s body?”
“Not everyone is a candidate for that kind of transfer,” Dr. Wellon replied. “Devereaux’s mind was extremely pliab
le. He possessed very little rigidity in his thought processes.”
“What about Celestia? Could I have infected her?”
“I’ll have Keelar check on that,” Dr. Wellon replied.
“Will I have to stay away from her?” Doug shivered.
“For now,” Dr. Wellon said. “You can communicate via holo-projection, of course, and there won’t be that annoying time lag because you’re both here on Mars. But you should probably stay away until I can be certain you’re not a contagion threat. Why don’t you come along with me? You know the miners, at least a little. They may allow me to run scans on them if you’re with me, though I think I know what I’m going to find.”
“I guess that means the end of my project.”
“Not at all. You can still film us via holo-projection. And Keelar and I will still maintain contact with you. We’ve both been transfused with a manufactured variant of Jeremiah’s blood as an experiment, so we’re likely even more immune than the others.”
Chapter 8
Jeremiah entered Devereaux’s lab, noting again the lack of security. A few tiny cameras and sensors were all that stood between Devereaux and the outside world. In addition, Devereaux’s lab contained a relative paucity of equipment. He wondered how Devereaux was able to make so many discoveries with so few experiments running but he supposed the great man was able to build upon other people’s preliminary work.
“Hello, Jeremiah,” Devereaux said. He gestured to the room’s only chair. “Here to discuss the treatment?”
“Partly,” Jeremiah replied as he sat. “I also think these God hackers may be trying to distract you. And there’s a faction within the government that believes you’re behind all this.”
Devereaux smiled. “Yes, I’m aware of them. Vice President Rodriguez is leading the charge. He believes I’m an abomination. You too, of course. I don’t want you to feel left out. At any rate, they want to shut me down and see if the attacks stop.”
“And if they do?”
“They’ll keep me shut down permanently. Even if the attacks continue, they’ll argue that I could have programmed them to go on after being disabled and they’ll refuse to believe it’s not me.”
“They’re afraid of you.”
“I’ve tried not to give them reason to be. But now that my mind is encased in an organic computer, I can do many things at the same time. They don’t understand me, so they fear me. Unsurprisingly, it’s mostly the same people who attacked me while I was human.”
“Have you gotten any closer to tracking the hackers down?”
Devereaux shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’ve connected to many different systems in the past few months. It’s possible I acquired some kind of virus during one of those connections and that’s how they were able to compromise my security protocols.”
“If the God hackers can infiltrate your protections, what other systems might be vulnerable? Could they hack into the DOD computers and launch nuclear weapons?”
“I don’t know. It frightens me a little.”
“Well, what’s the solution? Do you need to disconnect from every system?”
“I’ve already done that,” Devereaux replied. “I’ve got a few computers running diagnostics at the moment.” He gestured to a handful of data cubes on his desk. “Hopefully one of them will provide some answers.”
“But in the meantime . . .”
“In the meantime, why don’t you want me to help you?”
Devereaux fixed Jeremiah with a silent stare. He looked so much like his old human body, and yet he held himself with an inhuman stillness. No breathing, no blinking of the eyes, no movement of hands or fingers: he could be a statue.
Jeremiah got to his feet and walked to the window so he could look out at the James River. “Why did you set up shop here in Richmond?”
“What’s wrong with Richmond?” Devereaux asked.
“Why not the CDC in Atlanta or a lab in DC? What made you choose Richmond?”
Devereaux smiled. “I spent a few weeks here every summer as a boy. It reminds me of better times. Now why don’t you want me to help you?”
“Will it cure me?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s one reason. Plus, I didn’t feel like myself when that happened to me.”
“The scans indicate that you experienced a massive rush of hormonal activity, including a surge of adrenaline and dopamine. I realize that seems like a contradiction, but somehow that combination made you feel almost invincible—not that different from the way I feel right now.”
“That’s all true,” Jeremiah conceded. “But it felt artificial too, as if some outside force had taken over my body. I was afraid of what I might become.”
Devereaux nodded. “If we did this, the feeling might not be exactly the same. There would no doubt be a period of orientation, but I suspect you would soon feel incredible, better than you’ve ever felt in your life. Almost like Superman.”
Jeremiah smiled. “I never wanted to be Superman. I still don’t. You once told me that pain was good, that it was an indicator I was still alive.”
“True. But I was trying to cheer you up when I said it.”
“So you lied?”
Devereaux shrugged. “It was true to a point. But there are other, less painful ways of feeling alive. We both know you’re dying. It will take a few years, but the mutagenic changes your body is going through have turned against you. The cancer will get worse and I can’t stop it. Every treatment I try only alters the DNA of your cancer cells.” Devereaux gestured toward a blank screen, probably the one he’d used during the recent meeting with CINTEP. “Why haven’t you told them?”
“They would only worry.”
“Sooner or later they will find out.”
“Later is better.”
“You’re not thinking of killing yourself, are you?”
Jeremiah smiled. “I think about it every day.”
“It would harm me, not to mention Curtik and Sophie and Zora.”
“Think how much you could learn from studying my corpse.”
“I should have plenty of time for that. This robotic shell, if properly maintained, should last for hundreds of years, and even if it doesn’t, I could easily switch to another one.”
“Couldn’t you just plug your consciousness into an organic computer?”
Devereaux shook his head. “Remember, the mind-body connection is too strong to permit prolonged existence as a mere computer. There needs to be some sort of body to engage the world and maintain a connection to it or the mind will eventually dissipate or deform.”
“Could you put me into a robotic shell? Never mind. I don’t want that.”
“I could,” Devereaux said, “but you’re a much more physical being than I was. I don’t know how successful the transition would be.”
“Plus, if I were in such a body, they would try to use me.”
Devereaux nodded. “You would be a greater weapon and a greater threat. The solution I offer might not extend your life, but it would make your last few years more pleasant.”
“They’d still want to control me.”
“Of course,” Devereaux said. “But I believe I can ensure that doesn’t happen. A few tweaks here and there should guarantee your will is completely your own.”
“That’s not why I’m worried. I hadn’t thought much about that. I was more concerned they’d compel me to work for them by threatening Curtik and Sophie and Zora.”
Devereaux smiled. “Funny. That hadn’t occurred to me.”
“I won’t do it,” Jeremiah said.
“I understand and I’m sorry, Jeremiah. I already sent information on the procedure to Dr. Poole, thinking you might change your mind. I’m sure she’ll be discreet with the knowledge. She would never force the procedure on you.”
Jeremiah shook his head. “How could you? We don’t know how secure her interface is. And you know what these people are capable of. Hell, they’re doing it to you now. They want to shut you down because of your differences.”
“Mere talk.”
“And as I recall, you weren’t too happy when they transferred your mind into an organic computer inside a robot.”
“I’ve since had a change of heart,” Devereaux said.
“I haven’t. I don’t want to be fixed. And I believe that if they find out I’m dying, they might change me without my consent. It happened to me before, as you know. Eli made me an Escala without my knowledge.”
“Dr. Poole is not Eli and . . .”
Devereaux stopped all movement. His hand, which had been gesturing, remained in that position. His eyes stayed open, staring straight ahead. In that moment he no longer looked like the Devereaux of old. He looked like the robot he inhabited—nothing but a shell.
“Professor,” Jeremiah said. “Professor.”
Jeremiah rushed to Devereaux’s side, realizing as he did so that he had no way to determine whether Devereaux was okay. There was no pulse to check, no respiration. He snapped his fingers in front of Devereaux’s eyes, then grabbed Devereaux’s wrist. It felt like it had the last time Jeremiah had touched it: warm and yielding slightly, as if it were made of real flesh instead of neo-skin, and it moved without resistance, as if Devereaux were asleep.
Jeremiah pulled out his PlusPhone and engaged the scanner but all he got were bioelectric readings telling him Devereaux was alive inside the robotic shell. He wished Quark were here. The big Escala would know what to do.
Disengaging the scanner, Jeremiah issued a reboot request before calling Lendra.
“Jeremiah,” Lendra said when her face appeared on the screen. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Devereaux. He’s gone into some sort of catatonic state and I don’t know what to do about it. I need Curtik and Zora here ASAP.”
“They’re on their way. I’ll send Dr. Poole too. I mean, I’ll ask her to assist. Who else knows about this?”
“I have no idea. He claimed he had disconnected from the outside world, though he was still running several data cubes to diagnose how he received a message from God that couldn’t be traced. Perhaps one of them offered an access point for a cyber attack.”
The Susquehanna Virus Box Set Page 129