"Sergeant Strum," a voice said.
"Who's there?" I asked, and spun around. In so doing, I lost my balance and fell on the couch.
"Sergeant, please remain where you are. I will join you in a moment. I just have a few questions. Do you know who you are?"
"What?"
"Do you?"
"Sure, I'm Sergeant Mathew Strum, assigned to the IIEA Lunar Habitat School. Who are you?"
"Do you know where you are?"
"Arizona, or at least I was in Arizona."
"Why are you in Arizona?"
"I'm being trained for a hitch on the Moon. Who the hell are you?"
"What is your last memory?"
"I was...I was in a void. In a hospital. I was in a vehicle…we were under fire. No, wait, we were in an LPC, Goldman freaked out. Walker was there, he—Walker? Susan! Where is Susan?" Now, I was getting upset. "I want some goddamned answers!"
"Sergeant, calm yourself. I have some bad news for you; Petty Officer First Class Susan Myers did not survive the injuries she suffered in the accident."
Those words hit me like a bullet. At first, the site of the impact goes numb and you lose the ability to move. After a while, the pain starts. My mind disengaged, and I felt as if I were not part of what was going on in the room.
"What happened to her?" I whispered.
"Simply stated, she was declared brain dead and her body was allowed to expire. I'm sorry."
I lowered my head until my chin hit my chest.
"Sergeant, how does that news make you feel?"
"What?"
"Are you sad? Distraught? Are you perhaps angry, and prepared to strike out at something or someone?"
"I'm...listen, why don't you get off the PA and leave me alone?"
"Sergeant, I am not on a public address system. I am speaking directly into your mind."
I looked around myself, and then said, "I'm not in the mood for jokes. So, one more time, Mr. ESP, who the hell are you?"
"I am Doctor Ferdinand Rios, Head of Bio-Cybernetics here on JILL. I'll give you a few minutes, and then I'll join you."
The voice went away. I was alone again. I had never felt more alone in all my life.
My mind was just blank. No, that's not true. I could see Susan's face, clearly, like watching a video. That's no exaggeration; I could literally see her face in my mind as clearly as if the memory were happening all over again right before my eyes. I had never before been able to recall a memory with such absolute clarity. There she was at the table, introducing herself. Here, she was mad at me. In the next memory, she was mouthing words to me through our Ess-CEPS helmets, and then she slapped her butt. There she was above me in the half-light of my cubicle. Her lips parted her eyes wide. I felt her nails dig into my shoulders, and watched as she slammed her eyes closed and tossed her head back. I remembered lying next to her, gasping for breath, and just looking at her. She was so beautiful. Something stirred in me that night I had never thought possible. There was a name for it, but I couldn't bring myself to contemplate that word.
I remembered being under the control panel of the LPC as she and I simulated running the diagnostic on the LPS. She had rubbed her gloved hand over the arm of my suit and smiled at me. She had me switch my coms to Colt frequency and she said to me, "We made magic Matt, and now, you're stuck."
"Stuck?" I had asked.
"Yes, now I am always going to be with you. No matter where you go or what you do, you will always remember me."
The knock at my door aroused me from my melancholy daydreams. "Come," was all I said.
The door opened and a man entered in an old-style civilian suit, with lapels on his jacket and cuffs on his pants. He appeared to be at or about fifty years of age. He wore a small mustache and cod hair, what used to be called a soul patch and before that a goatee. His neck and the right side of his face were tattooed. He closed the door but remained standing near it. I wondered if he was armed. I sat there looking blankly at him.
"Are you all right, Sergeant?" he asked.
I recognized the voice as that of Doctor Rios. "I just...wait a minute; you said you were head of Bio-Cybernetics?"
"Good, you are starting to figure it out. Sometimes, it takes the brain a while to fully adjust. Cognition is—"
"Hey, buddy, I think you'd better sit down and start from square one," I demanded.
"There is so much to tell—"
"Doc, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. I'm not going to bite."
He glanced up at the smoke and heat detector in the corner of the room, then cautiously moved to the chair at the desk and sat down.
"I will be brief, which means I will also be blunt. Do you recall the accident?"
"Yes. Barney went nuts. He drove us up a crater's rim where an explosion rolled us down. Who all survived?"
"Stabsunteroffizier Dolphus Kappel, and Air Force Sergeant Pete Walker. Petty Officer First Class Myers and Staff Sergeant Barney Goldman died. I am sorry."
"I've lost friends before, Doc. Go on," I said, trying to sound hard-core.
"You were very severely injured. You have access to a full copy of your medical report if you care to read it. You were dying. You had only hours left. The decision was taken to save your life, but not your body."
"What?" I looked at my hands.
"Sergeant, you are now a Cybernetically Enhanced and Uploaded Human Being."
He sat there and very clinically explained, briefly, the procedure to me. It's called a whole brain emulation. He explained how it retained memory and personality, how a virtually identical prosthetic body was constructed, then my brain, or parts of it, were placed into the body; then the computer program that contained me was loaded back into the brain. He explained the acronym C.E.U.H.B., was pronounced "SUB".
"So, Doc, is this me—or a simulation of me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Am I the real Matt Strum or a recording, as in leave a message after the tone?"
He looked at me very closely then leaned forward. "What, exactly, do you mean by real?"
I would have taken a deep breath if I breathed. "I'm talking about my spirit, my soul. Am I human…or am I a machine?"
"The fact that you even ponder this question confirms you as a human being. No machine would ask that. I am no theologian, Sergeant, but I believe all that has happened to you is the replacement of your damaged and dying body with a new cybertronic prosthesis. It is still you, in your own mind, for is this not where every one of us resides? In our minds?
"Sergeant, let me explain a bit to you about your new body. You are now stronger, faster, and possess specializations only available to non-SUBs through the use of additional instruments; night vision, for example. Your body is made of materials that make you nearly indestructible. You'll feel no pain if you don't want to, you'll not grow hungry or thirsty, and you'll never tire.
"You can endure extremes of hot and cold. You don't need air, you can—"
"Can I fly, Doc?"
"What?"
"Do I get a cape?"
"You see, you still possess a keen since of humor."
"Yeah, right. This must have taken quite some time?"
"The accident was eighteen months ago."
"Oh, my God! Like being in a coma."
"Not really, Sergeant. You see, were I to lapse into a coma for eighteen months, it would be time lost to me forever. But you have a new cybertronic body. For all practical purposes, today is your birthday. And you have a life expectancy of more than ninety years as of right now. But with anticipated upgrades, well, the sky's the limit."
"You said you head up Bio-Cybernetics here at JILL. I'm on the Moon?"
"Yes, you noticed the lower gravity when you rose from the sofa."
"Were you watching from the camera in the smoke detector or can you monitor my thoughts as well as speak into my head?"
"Camera?" the doctor asked, feigning ignorance.
"Oh, come on Doc, I watched your eyes."
&nb
sp; "No, we cannot read your mind but we can determine your location within the base and receive telemetry on your condition. As regards that ability to speak inside your head, there is a system inside JILL that was specifically designed for the SUBs and robots here. It is called Ismay's Code.
"All SUBs, robots, and computers speak English as well as several other languages and dialects; you'll find them in your memory awaiting activation. But with Ismay's Code you can all communicate directly with one another much more quickly in a multi-layered form, by means of Ismay's special computer language."
"Ismay?" I asked.
"After its inventor Mr. Cabot Ismay who developed the code and associated systems back in 2025. This form of communication takes place silently by means of a wireless network set up throughout the facility, and it extends several kilometers around JILL, as well.
"Sergeant, you have a lot to learn about your new capabilities. We shall discuss them and bring them online in the morning. You don't require sleep any longer, but I do."
"Before you go Doc, there's no bathroom in here, where do I—"
"Sergeant," he laughed, "you no longer require a bathroom."
"Oh." That fact dawned on me slowly. Then another thought blasted through my head and I bounded to my feet, and almost hit the ceiling with my head. I very quickly started to undo my robe.
"Relax, Sergeant Strum," the Doctor said. "Everything is as you remember it. Did I not tell you that your new body is virtually identical to your original body?"
"I guess it's that word virtual that worries me."
I took a peek anyway. "Ah, Doctor, does it work?"
"You will not feel the need to urinate."
I shot him a look. He smiled. "Yes, Sergeant, you are fully functional."
After a brief pause to reflect, I asked, "Why?"
"For your own mental health. Extensive studies were conducted, and it was determined that certain functionalities were necessary in both genders to maintain the individual's mental health. Early bodies were designed for specific functions. We had forgotten that we had placed whole human beings into them. As a result, the individuals could not cope with the drastic changes and,” he paused a moment and took a breath, “one consideration to remedy the problem was to remove that part of the emulation that…well, the result would not have been human. The concept was to produce a human with the ability to go anywhere—deep space flights, prolonged missions under the seas, the possibilities are endless. Also," he paused, "the designers had to look ahead to the future and possible economic considerations."
"Okay, ya lost me."
"There exists a certain marketable value to the many technological—" he paused again, and when he continued he looked and sounded embarrassed. "Well, you are an outrageously expensive breakthrough in countless technologies. The possibility of a future return on the investment had to be considered. The IIEA's accountants considered all marketable possibilities, and since the mental health issue was going to require certain— stop looking at me that way, I'm a scientist!"
He collected his dignity, cleared his throat, and then continued in a much more serious tone. "One other thing—the existence of the SUBs is classified crypto, you understand?"
"Yes, why is that?"
"Two reasons. One, you are as yet a DARPA project being beta tested here. Not even all the military personnel up here are in the know."
"I suppose the possibility of weaponizing us has occurred to you?" I asked.
"Of course it has. The vast majority of SUBs have come to us out of the ranks of the military. What we hope, what we count on really, is that with the SUBs remaining human and possessed of free will, they, themselves, will object to that action. Another plus is that all the military SUBs come from armed forces dedicated to higher ideals, men and women who have volunteered their lives for the preservation of life and freedom. We scientists are keeping our fingers crossed.
"The other reason for the secrecy is—this is a bit more difficult—there exists, even among those who work with SUBs on a daily basis and have been in the project for years, a certain prejudice. You're difficult to explain to the general population. You're stronger, faster, think quicker, will live longer; so, you're a threat, you see. You make us feel inferior and people don't like that, so we find it necessary to denigrate that which frightens us and makes us feel less than superior. Human nature, my boy. SUBs are not perceived as true people. Many still see you as a machine—and machines were made to serve humanity. So, until we believe humanity is ready to accept SUBs, you are to remain a secret."
"That sort of explains the name SUBs, doesn't it?"
"How's that?"
"SUB, doctor—as in sub-human."
He paused a moment. "The general population of JILL know there are a number of androids up here. They know you are hard to spot and most don't care. Those who do, will identify you by the surface of your skin, you don't perspire. We promote the android story as a convenient cover. Just be aware that androids are also seen as robots and not shown any real consideration. I'm sorry, that's just the way it is."
He paused again, then continued. "You will be required to undergo periodic physiological evaluations for the foreseeable future. However, if you ever feel the need for one, a psychologist will be instantly provided for you. Please do not hesitate to avail yourself of—"
"Sure. Thanks, Doc."
Chapter 5
Reunion
The doctor departed, leaving me in the room alone again. I sat quite still for, I really don't know how long. I sat watching my memories of Susan. A sorrow the depth of which I had never known swallowed me whole. I had lost something special. Something I would never get back. Something irreplaceable.
As I reviewed my memories, I came across one that really hit me. Susan leaned in real close to me, laid a fingertip gently on my right cheek and slowly drew a line down to the corner of my mouth; then looking into my eyes she said, "You're only human, you know," I repeated that last portion several times. "You're only human, you know." perhaps I had lost a lot more than I realized. Just what does it mean to be human?
I froze a picture of Susan in my mind, a picture as clear and real as if she were standing there. I drank in that blond hair and those dazzling blue eyes. I felt all the right emotions, but I did not feel the pinch in my sinuses or the gathering of saline solution in my eyes. Seemed I was incapable of crying.
I struggled to pull myself together. I had to get my mind in balance, so I decided I'd go see what there was to see. After all, I was on the Moon.
As I stood, it dawned on me that my every movement was being watched. I walked to the corner, reached up to open the smoke detector and locate the camera. The detector did not want to open or come off the ceiling, so I exerted additional force. With one hand, I crushed the apparatus as though it were made of paper.
As I stood there marveling at my own strength, my eyes fell to a set of curtains on the wall to my immediate right. I pulled them apart to discover a sort of large porthole much like those on a ship. Out this window, my eyes beheld an amazing sight—the surface of the Moon, and it was nothing like I had imagined.
There were, of course, thousands of craters of every size, sharp jagged mountains, and low, rolling hills. It was the colors that surprised me. I thought it would all be a uniform, pale gray color, but I could see gray in every possible shade and several shades of brown and tan.
Off to the left, I could see another dome with its lights blazing. For couple of hundred meters around this and all the domes there were countless tracks in the dust where the soil was disturbed by the construction of the base and by the countless sorties of LPCs that had driven around the base since. Every mark made in the lunar dust would remain forever.
To my right, I saw a trail in the dust that all the vehicles seemed to follow, leading off and over the horizon
Above it all, stretched the ebony sky and its explosion of stars. The unblinking eyes of time.
I went to the closet in the bed
room to see if there were any clothes. I found several duty uniforms, and one dress uniform, all my size. On my way out of the room, I stopped to check my appearance in the mirror above the chest of drawers to make sure I looked okay. The uniform of the LCDD looked like the Army's uniform, but was a monochrome, medium gray rather than camouflaged; that was understandable. I was about to turn and leave when my reflection stopped me. I was looking at my face, my face. I seemed unchanged. I touched my cheek, the same cheek she had touched. It felt the same to me, but something was different. It was my skin. There was no sheen to it, it lacked luster. Well, if that was the worst of it—
I opened my mouth and looked in, my teeth were perfect, no fillings, nothing. I pulled my shirt up and discovered all my scars were gone. My body was unblemished. Initially, this upset me. Every scar had a memory associated with it. The spot where that bullet broke my rib there in the Blood Archipelago, the scar on my leg from my last jump at Fort Bragg, the spot on my arm where I was stabbed with a pencil in high school by Tommy Alexander. The sight of the blood had made him sick, I remembered…
I turned away from the mirror, not sure I wanted to look into it again, and exited my room. I was in a hallway not unlike a nice hotel back home, with several doors all exiting into the corridor. To my left about six meters was a set of elevators. Inside, I discovered that the barracks building I was in had three floors. On the ground floor, I exited the elevator onto a sort of large, arched porch with fake plants here and there. Just beyond the porch stood a statue of General Rose, who had spearheaded the drive to establish a base on the Moon. He was killed during JILL's second phase of construction. The statue was made of moon rock and bronze. It was a very nice tribute.
Once out from the overhead cover of the porch I found myself standing under the huge metal dome of my new home. The building I just exited was doughnut shaped, running all the way around the inside wall of the dome. About every one hundred meters, there was a porch like the one I just left. In the center of this doughnut was a little forest, where real Earth trees and plants were growing. There was also a little waterfall, a small pond, and a stream. All the water was of course a computer generated holograph, water is too rare a commodity up here to just let it spill over rocks. Not only was this area aesthetically appealing, it added to the breathable atmosphere.
The Battle of Broken Moon Page 6