The Last Science Fiction Writer Read online

  They entered a small alcove, a viewing area just large enough for the three of them. A vault door was on the opposite wall, but Marquand walked instead to a large, double-paned window. The room on the other side was pitch-black, save for tiny red and white lights of instrument panels and the faint blue glow of flatscreens.

  “The great problem of the exploration of space isn’t hardware-related,” Marquand continued. “For a long time, it seemed that way…we had to invent efficient means of leaving Earth, and once that was done we had to learn how to build space stations, and then how to use the resources of the Moon and Mars to keep ourselves alive. And so we did so, step by step, over the course of generations, yet the greatest single obstacle hasn’t been development of reliable spacecraft, but something much more obvious, yet nonetheless so subtle that we overlooked it for nearly a century.”

  Marquand patted his chest. “It’s this…the human body itself. Homo sapiens are perfectly suited for life on Earth, but our flesh betrays us once we venture in space. Our bones become brittle, our muscles too weak to sustain once we return to Earth unless we constantly exercise or build ships that spin to provide artificial gravity. Our eyes are adapted for only a narrow spectrum of light, and our lower limbs are almost useless in microgravity. So we surround ourselves with redundant layers of technology, praying that none of them fail, hoping that one day we…”

  He stopped himself, briefly shutting his eyes as if to gather his thoughts. “Hundreds of millions of years ago,” he went on, “an aquatic animal squirmed out of a stream somewhere on Earth and, for a brief seconds, learned how to breathe open air. Over the course of time, other creatures learned to do the same thing. All well and good, yet evolution is a slow process, taking eons to achieve its most favorable results. Yet we have the way to accelerate the process…”

  “And this is what you’re trying to do here,” Phil said. Behind him, he heard the click of George’s camera.

  “No.” Marquand shook his head. “We’re not trying anymore.” And then he touched a button on the console beside him.

  Ceiling panels on the other side of the window flickered to life, revealing row upon row of horizontal glass tanks. The closer ones were empty, their instrument panels dull and blank, yet the ones farther away were filled with a milky substance, and suspended within them were fetuses in various stages of development.

  “Superiors,” Phil murmured.

  “Personally, I prefer the term Homo astronauticus, but the rest of the team thought that Homo superior was a more apt term, so…well, yes, that’s their species name now. Or Superiors, for short.”

  “Oh, Christ…” George moved closer to the window, shooting from as many angles as possible. “I don’t believe this…I don’t friggin’ believe this…”

  “What don’t you believe?” Marquand asked. “That we’ve accomplished this?”

  George lowered his camera; there was horror and disgust in his eyes as he regarded the tanks. “That you’d take…that you’d take babies and turn them into…into these freaks…”

  “I don’t think you understand,” Marquand seemed puzzled. “These specimens were created in vitro…cloned from tissue samples donated by team members. They’re not the result of normal human procreation.”

  “Even worse,” George murmured.

  Phil was surprised. For as long as he’d known George, he’d never heard him express any anti-cloning sentiments. Perhaps he’d simply never expressed them to him. Marquand stared at them both, more appalled than embarrassed. “Go on, please,” Phil said. “You began with tissue samples…”

  “DNA restructuring began in the cellular stage of development, long before the specimens reached fetal stage. We spent the first three years designing a genetic blueprint, gradually perfecting it until we obtained the desired results.” Marquand typed into a keypad; anatomical charts appeared on the window. “Lighter bones with much less potential for long-term calcium loss. Skeletal changes such as double-jointed limbs and greater dexterity for the hands and toes. Greater respiratory capacity coupled with an improved cardiovascular system. Increased resistance to cancer, diabetes, rhinoviruses, and other common illnesses.” He pointed to a three-dimensional cutaway of an eye. “The eyes, of course, are an obvious feature…the cones of their retinas are more sensitive, their irises expanded significantly, making them capable of seeing in the dark.”

  “I saw one of them blink. It…she…looked like she had a second pair of eyelids. Is that to protect their eyes in strong light?”

  Marquand smiled. “Yes, but that’s only a secondary consideration. This is actually our most revolutionary achievement.” He pulled up another image; fine wires led through a tiny socket in the nape of the neck, connecting to a tiny package within the back of the skull. “See this? A microprocessor nanosurgically implanted within the cerebral cortex. Technically, it’s called a MINN…Mnemonic Interfaced Neural Network…but we call it an associate.”

  “A computer in the brain?”

  “Yes. One gigabyte onboard memory. But more importantly, it enables the children to interface with computer systems within their environment…Sosigenes’s own AI, for instance. We’ve just begun tutoring them in how to use them. Once they become proficient, they’ll be able to converse with AIs in two ways. A subcutaneous vocal implant in their inner ear and lower jaw…we’ve already begun testing those, with positive results so far…and also what we call an eyes-up display.”

  Marquand’s hand moved to his own eyes. “When they blink rapidly three times, as they’re learning how to do, the inner eyelid comes down and they’re able to see what appears to a hologram. In reality it’s a personal computer screen, displaying information relayed to them from their associate. Coupled with subcutaneous implants, this gives them direct verbal contact with any computer linked to MINN system.”

  “So, you mean if I had one of these…”

  “You can’t. It has to be installed in the brain while it’s still the early fetal stage.”

  “Okay, but if I did, and I asked…oh, say, which way to the men’s room…”

  “And then you’d blink three times, and the associate would show you a map on the eyes-up. Or it could display a spacecraft control system and lead you through a step-by-step procedure of how to use it. You can even load information into a terminal, and the children will be able to call it up at will, then download it to wherever they want.” He pointed to Phil’s pad. “Like having one of them imbedded in your brain, ready to be used at any time.”

  “Sick.” George took another picture of the lab. “This is really sick.”

  “Why do you say that?” Marquand peered at him. “Because we’ve tinkered with the human body?”

  Mariano didn’t look at him. “You said it. I didn’t.”

  “But we’ve been doing much the same thing for nearly a century, beginning with the advent of cardiac pacemakers.” Marquand shook his head. “We’re on the verge of a new era…a time when humanity will be able to live in space as if it evolved there. Within two or three generations, humankind will be utterly transformed.”

  “Uh-huh.” George turned to aim his camera at Marquand. “So I take it that you think Wells was on the right track. With The Island of Dr. Moreau, I mean.”

  “Wells was ahead of his time.” At first, Marquand seemed reluctant to having his picture taken; then he relaxed, and struck a pose next to the window. “But he couldn’t have foreseen what we’re doing here. This is Moreau raised to the next level.”

  “Sure. Moreau to the second power.” George snapped the picture. “But you’re forgetting how the story ends, aren’t you? Moreau’s creations…”

  “I think that’s enough for now.” Marquand’s smile faded. “No doubt you’ll want to rest before the rover gets here.” Stepping past them, he opened the door. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you back to your quarters.”

  Phil was tired; he hadn’t slept very long before Vladimir had awakened him, and he knew he had to get some sle
ep. Yet as soon as he was alone again, he found himself sitting cross-legged on the bed with his pad in his lap, working on his lead:

  Mare Tranquillitatis, the Moon; Jan. 27, 2052 (UMI)—The existence of a new race of genetically-engineered humans was made public today by a senior scientist involved with the project. Known as homo superiors, or “Superiors” for short, they are the result of a secret three-year program aimed at developing…

  There was a quiet knock upon the door. Phil barely had time to fold the pad and shove it beneath the covers before the door opened and Laurent Marquand stepped in. “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said. “I saw your light still on, and thought this might be a good time to have a talk.”

  “I was about to take a nap, but…sure, what’s on your mind?” Phil shifted a little on the bed, making sure that the bulge made beneath the covers by the pad was hidden by his body.

  “I was wondering what you plan to do with what I’ve told you.” Although Phil gestured to the chair, Marquand preferred to remain standing. He closed the door behind him. “I hope you don’t intend to write a story about this.”

  “Well…” Phil was glad he’d taken precautions. “You invited me to bring my pad and George to bring his camera, and what you told us constitutes an interview. Little late to be having second thoughts, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not sure it is.” Marquand crossed his arms. “I believed that you’d treat this with an open mind. And to your credit, you have. But your colleague didn’t take this very well. It’s not hard to see that he thinks this is immoral.”

  “George isn’t writing the story.” Too late, Phil realized that he spoken in the present tense. “Or at least he won’t be,” he quickly added. “He just takes pictures…it’s going to be my byline.”

  “I understand. All the same, it makes me wonder if public disclosure may be premature, at least at this time.” As he spoke, Marquand’s gaze drifted around the small room; Phil wondered if he was searching for his pad. “Once news of this gets out, quite a few people may share his reaction. And although we’re quite some distance from most of your readers, I have to take the children’s safety into consideration.”

  “You don’t believe the Pax will protect you?”

  “Only a few of their leaders know about this. Tango Red was undertaken by GenSyn, not the Pax, and they may feel threatened by this.” Marquand raised an eyebrow. “After all, this is the next stage of human evolution. Image what might have happened if Neanderthals had opened the morning paper and discovered that Cro-Magnon man had suddenly arrived on the scene.”

  Phil couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image of a caveman squinting at a pad, perhaps with a cup of coffee in his hairy hand. A dark frown appearing on Marquand’s face. “I’m sorry you find this so humorous,” he went on, “but you must realize that you share some responsibility for this.”

  Phil stopped grinning. “No, I don’t. Not at all. I’m a journalist. It’s my job to report the news. My only responsibility is to be as fair-minded and objective as I can be. I didn’t set out to produce a new race, you did, and now that I know about it, it’s my duty to report it.”

  “But it wasn’t my intent to let you know…”

  “It wasn’t? I wonder about that. When we first met, you hinted that there were stories more significant than war. Maybe you were just making conversation, but you knew you were talking to a reporter…didn’t you think that would get my attention? And on two different occasions, one of your Superiors…your children, as you call them…got loose and visited me. If you’re so concerned about their safety, why did you leave their door unlocked? And isn’t it odd that you just happened to be around when George and I found them…”

  “These were accidents.”

  “No…no, I don’t think so.” Phil shook his head. “A secure research facility, and you let two reporters wander around. No, these weren’t accidents. You saw a chance to stage a news event…I saw the way you posed for George when he took your picture…but now you think you may have made a mistake, and so you want to put everything in reverse.”

  Marquand said nothing. His arms folded across his chest, he looked down at the floor. “I see…and you don’t think you owe me anything? Not even after having saved your life?”

  “I owe you fair and unbiased coverage. I would have done that even if you hadn’t rescued George and me.”

  “And there’s nothing I can say that would convince you to forget what you’ve seen? Just claim that this is an agriculture research lab?”

  “We’re way beyond that now. Like you said yourself, this is more important than the war.” Phil hesitated. “Since we’re laying down our cards, I’ll put down an ace of my own. It’s no coincidence that we crashed near here. George and I were accompanying an advance team of Marines assigned to check out this facility. They had intelligence reports about something at Sosigenes, but they thought…”

  “We were making drugs.” A faint smile that quickly disappeared. “How ironic. If I’d known, I might have shown you the labs on Level Two and dropped hints that they were being used for that purpose. The lie would have been less harmful than the truth,” He sighed, tucked his hands in his coat pockets. “But what if I were to tell you, in all truthfulness, that you are involved? That you do indeed have a personal stake in the outcome of this story?”

  “I…I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve deceived you more times than you realize, Mr. Carson. When you asked me about the bandage on your arm…” Phil glanced at his left elbow “…I told you, just as I told Mr. Mariano, that you’ve received intravenous glucose as treatment for dehydration. That’s an untruth. The fact of the matter is that I took something from you instead…”

  Phil felt his face grow pale. “Tissue samples.”

  “Only a few dozen people have worked on this project, and for various reasons not all of them were suitable donors. One of the problems we’ve had in working in such a remote location has been securing tissue from a wide gene pool. So when the opportunity presented itself…”

  “You’re out of your mind!”

  “A mad scientist?” A corner of Marquand’s mouth ticked upward. “Oh, please…but keep in mind that the next Superior born here may be your own genetic offspring, or George’s, just as much as Vladimir is mine.”

  Now he looked straight at Phil. “Do you feel as objective as you did before? Do you still think that what happens to them is none of your concern?”

  Without realizing what he was doing, Phil absently let his hand drift toward the lump beneath the bedcovers. “You’re right,” he admitted. “It is my concern…more than before.” Pulling aside the covers, he picked up his pad. “Which is why it’s important that I finish this story, and file it as soon as possible.”

  “I see.” Marquand let out his breath. “And the fact that I’ve locked out your net access…”

  “The rover will be here soon. Soon as George and I reach Descartes and we clear things with the locals, I’ll use their dish. It may take a while, but…”

  “UMI will still get their story. Of course.” Marquand walked over to the door, opened it. “I have to admit, Mr. Carson, you’re a man of integrity.”

  “Just a guy doing his job, Dr. Moreau…Marquand, I mean.”

  Again, the elusive smile. “So am I, whether you care to believe it or not.” And then he left, closing the door behind him.

  Phil slowly stood up, groaning as sensation returned to his cramped legs. He should have been relieved, but he wasn’t. It might have been a mistake to be honest with Marquand; he might not be mad, yet he was clearly committed to his cause. Even if he allowed him and George to leave Sosigenes, he could still prevent the story from getting out. He had contacts in the Pax, and they would be able to stop them.

  Yet Phil had to find a way to send a dispatch back to Earth. If only there was…

  He glanced at the desk terminal, and an idea came to him. It might not work, but it was the only shot he had. Ignoring h
is exhaustion, he sat down at the desk and continued writing his story. This time, though, he didn’t use his pad, but wrote on the terminal instead.

  If he worked fast, he might be able to finish before the rover arrived.

  Phil heard the atrium door open, but didn’t turn around to look. Squatting in the grass beneath a dwarf palm, he kept his attention upon Vladimir. The little Superior boy stood before him, waiting for Phil to throw the ball back to him. He would, but first they had to finish their game.

  “Simon says, ‘Send.’” Phil kept his voice low, hoping that he wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Mr. Carson…”

  “Send!” Vladimir chirped, and his eyes blinked rapidly three times.

  Phil let out his breath. He hoped Marquand didn’t hear that. “Catch!” he said, then tossed the ball into the air. Vlad raised his hands to catch it, then realized that he’d been duped and let it fall. “Ah-ha!” Phil laughed. “Simon didn’t say ‘catch’!”

  “No fair! Tricked me, you did!” Vlad bent down to pick up the ball. “Now my turn. Simon says…”

  “I’m sorry, Vladimir. Mr. Carson has to leave now.” Marquand stood at the edge of the clearing. “That’s a good game, though. We’ll play it again sometime.”

  Vlad frowned, holding the ball in his hands. “Play no more? Away, you go?”

  “Afraid so, kiddo. Gotta head back to where I came from.” Phil pointed to the crescent Earth hovering in the black sky above the atrium windows. “Earth? You know that place?” Vlad nodded solemnly; it was a world he’d never visit, but he saw it every day. “Don’t worry…when I come back, you can show me all the games you’ve learned.”

  The boy beamed at him. “Simon says…!”

  “Another time, Vladimir. We have to go.” There was impatience in Marquand’s voice, yet Phil was secretly relieved. If Vlad had repeated everything Phil had said during their game…“The rover has arrived, Mr. Carson. And I think your companion would like to depart.”