Clay (20 page)

The dogs are outside the utility shed. Occasionally, they put their noses to the bottom of the door, sniffing Paul’s presence.

He’s buried in the sleeping bag Cali tossed at him late the night before. Although spring has arrived, the nights are still cool in the mountains. The circuit board gives off some heat, but not enough. The concrete is an unforgiving slab. His hips ache.

Biomites are not invincible. They are perfect replicas of organic cells, refined to avoid degradation and programmable by thoughts, but the red blood biomites still needed oxygen.

They still suffer.

He was awake through most of the night. The wind picked up around midnight. Pine needles blasted the outer walls.

How could this have happened?

The last thing he remembers, with any clarity, is standing inside the warehouse, staring at Jamie, helpless on the lounger. The memories before that—getting up that morning, attending his niece’s birthday party the week before, fishing off the pier with his brother—are faint, like stories someone told him

Are they real?

From time to time he lifts his hands, turning them over, wondering if they are his or just replications. Wondering if this body contains any clay at all. Wondering who is in the warehouse, who is in this shed.

Wondering…
Am I a brick?

He doesn’t feel any different than before the warehouse. Those memories tell him this is what reality is supposed to feel like. If that’s really his body in the warehouse, who is he now? If he’s a brick, why hasn’t he betrayed Cali? That’s the biggest mystery. It’s the proof to which his sanity clings:
If I’m something other than clay, why haven’t I done something?

It gives him hope that this is all a dream.

But why leave his body to be discovered?

Unless she wanted me to see it.

The dogs begin to whine. The door is yanked open and morning light stabs through the darkness. Paul throws the sleeping bag over his head.

“Come inside the house,” Cali says.

“They might be looking for me. M0ther might have lost me in the storm. I can’t take the chance.”

“She doesn’t lose contact. The damage is already done.”

“We don’t know that.” He rolls over, squints. “We don’t know anything.”

She hasn’t slept either. Her frizzled hair is a halo in the slicing light. A rogue wave tingles through him. She’s doing a mental scan, looking inside him, again. Could she make him come inside? Could she assume control of his actions like before?

He’s tired of being manipulated, of losing free will. He thought he freely rescued Jamie, but now it seems he was tricked into making those choices. M0ther wanted him to do it. She made him do it.

I can’t trust my thoughts. I can’t trust anything.

“Leave me alone.”

She drops a tote bag and kneels next to him. The dogs come inside, sniffing. She pulls food and water out of the bag. Paul sits up to drink, watches her remove a black case from the bag and unroll it. Syringes, tubes, and a stethoscope-like instrument are inside.

“Where are Nix and Jamie?” he asks. 

“Gone.” The news is delivered in dead, hollowed-out words. “They took your car.”

She takes a syringe from the pack and finds several alcohol wipes. He watches her tear the packets open, wondering if Jamie is hiding somewhere on the property. Nix must’ve figured out where a fabricator was located, but why would she go with him?

“I’m going to take samples to analyze, find out what you’re made of. I should’ve done this when you arrived.”

Paul works his arm out of the sleeping bag. The air outside is frigid on his bare skin. Cali wipes down the inside of his arm and expertly finds an artery with the needle’s tip. The dogs watch the tube fill with red blood. When biomites were first available, they maintained their gun metal color. Today’s strains didn’t just operate like cells; they look every bit like them. Only close analysis could see the difference.

Cali takes two samples, quickly packs them away. She leaves the food on the floor. The dogs scamper out.

“I didn’t make Nix and Jamie leave,” Paul says.

“I know.” Cali stops in the open doorway. “I did.”

She remains still, staring at the soggy ground. She wants to say more. Paul can feel the weight of her thoughts. How long has she lived this way, with no one to confess her troubles to?

She closes the door and seals out the light, leaving Paul in the green glow of the circuit board. He feels around for the food, finds it on the very hard, very cold floor.

Part Three

Reality is relative.

The Birthright

Deena Flannigan adjusted the bed when her husband, Duane, came in the room with their baby. Gregory Allen was eight pounds two ounces. Her husband laid the bundle on her lap. She was too weak to do anything else but hold her baby boy.

“He’s finally here,” Duane said, stroking his wife’s forehead.

It felt like they’d been trying for a decade. They could’ve solved their infertility and conceived on the first try if they embraced new technology. Deena and Duane were old-fashioned.

The way God intended.

“He’s beautiful.”

One second Deena was laughing, and the next she was crying. She was aware that the roller coaster of emotions was just beginning. Her body was dumping all sorts of hormones into her bloodstream. There was a cure for that, too, but she’d work through it. With pleasure comes pain, she always said.

Deena’s roommate was on the other side of a blue curtain divider. The roommate’s family had arrived an hour earlier and made no effort to contain their enthusiasm. Deena tried to sleep through the new mother’s talk about the painless miracle of childbirth.

“Claire fell asleep,” her husband had said. “Right in the middle of it.”

Deena experienced the gift of birth in all its glory. There was nothing painless about it.

Duane crawled in bed with Deena. Gregory Allen was nestled between them. They didn’t need words to experience their miracle.

“How we doing, Claire?” A nurse pushed a cart into the room followed by a professionally-dressed woman. They smiled at Deena then disappeared behind the curtain.

“When can I go home?” Claire asked.

Laughter ensued. “Pretty soon. Let me just have a look.”

The nurse went through a standard examination of the infant while the family made silly baby sounds and teased the nurse for taking so long.

“What’s his name?” the nurse asked.

“Billy Junior,” the father spouted. “Just like his daddy.”

“William,” the nurse added. “That’s a strong name.”

Deena could see through a gap between the curtain and the wall. Billy sat next to Claire, the baby in his arms.

“Well,” the nurse said, “this is Marian Fletcher. She represents the Biomite Augmentation Program. She’ll be serving as witness to William’s birthright. If you can just look this over and confirm all the information is correct. Do you have any questions?”

“Yeah,” one of the family members said. “You can shoot the leftovers in me.”

Laughter. Ms. Fletcher and the nurse didn’t find it funny. Claire handed a tablet back to the nurse.

“Thank you,” Ms. Fletcher said. “Just to confirm, you qualify for the basic biomite subsidy which includes language, memory, and sensory enhancement as well as current disease immunization. After the first year, if approved by a doctor, you may seed William with a neural booster.”

Billy tickled the baby’s lips while singing a goo-goo song.

“Please be aware that biomite augmentation is monitored by the government. If, at any time, William’s body exceeds 49.9% biomites, he will be considered halfskin and lose his human rights. Are there any questions?”

“You know how many times I’ve heard that?” someone said.

The tablet came back to Billy and Claire while someone mocked the Birthright Augmentation Memorandum.

“Claire,” Ms. Fletcher said, “if you can hold William.”

Billy handed the baby to Claire. The nurse moved into position on the opposite side of the bed and turned William on his stomach. The baby struggled in his wrappings, started to whimper. Billy told him to hush up.

“Damn, that thing looks wicked,” someone said.

The nurse kept the tool hidden. “I’m going to place this at the base of his skull. He’ll feel some pressure for about two seconds. We can expect his body temperature to rise. If there are no complications, he’ll be back to normal in an hour.”

She didn’t hesitate.

The seeder looked like a shiny gun. The blunt tip went flush against William’s neck, just below the hairline. Seconds later, it was over. William was not happy. Neither was Billy. His son needed to man up.

While they attempted to calm the child, the curtain was pushed aside. The nurse rolled the cart to Deena’s side of the room with a well-rehearsed smile. Duane stood up.

“How are you this morning, Deena?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

Ms. Fletcher moved to the foot of the bed while consulting her tablet. The nurse introduced her.

“We’re not seeding him,” Deena said.

The other side of the room got quiet. Duane pulled the curtain all the way to the wall.

“I see that,” Ms. Fletcher said. “I just need you to answer a few questions before you waive your son’s augmentation birthright. You do realize that the current strain of biomites is non-replicating.”

Gregory Allen squirmed in his mother’s grip. Duane held her hand.

“You’ll have to confirm that you understand what I’m saying.” Ms. Fletcher paused.

“We understand,” Duane said with a bit of Southern accent, “but we do not agree.”

“Duly noted. And you also understand that by refusing to seed your son he will not have the same biological and mental enhancements as 98% of the human population. He will also require immunizations. He will have to be registered as unseeded clay.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The nurse signed off on the tablet and handed it to Deena. She and her husband acknowledged their refusal to poison their precious gift with false idols. Ms. Fletcher directed them to several screens that positively identified the parents by retinal scan.

“Idiots,” Billy sort of whispered.

“That baby’s going to grow up stupid,” Claire whispered.

Deena and Duane pretended they didn’t hear them. They’d heard comments like that all their lives. Deena hugged little Gregory Allen while Duane finished confirming the waiver. When Ms. Fletcher and the nurse left, it was just the three of them.

They were 100% God-given organic cells.

Or, as Billy would say, they were clay.

Before Jamie’s father left—or, rather, when he was taken—he brought her to the mountains. They had hiked up Mount Rainier, high enough to see the spring flowers on the hillsides like bright carpet. He took the binoculars from his neck and pointed towards the stream.

“Look near the big rocks.”

Jamie fumbled with the binocular’s barrels, squeezing the hinge until both her eyes were centered over the eyepieces. The world was fuzzy green. Awkwardly, she spun the dial until, slowly, shapes emerged and edges sharpened. Colors expanded into rich hues of verdant green and crisp blue. She swung them toward the boulders where he was still pointing. There, she saw deer sipping from the stream.

The world was so alive.

Later, when she became a teen, when she learned how to tweak her biomites, when she sold half her clay to biomite seedings in search of the wonder, she lost her sense of aliveness.

But now it’s back.

She’s 52.1%. There’s no going back.

M0ther’s gaze is palpable, like a giant invisible eye sweeping over the earth, staring at her through the lens of binoculars, searching for evidence of her transgression—her digital finger caressing the switch on Jamie’s life. A twitch is all it would take.

But those are thoughts. M0ther is watching her no more now than before she was halfskin. Or can she just feel it now? Is she more sensitive? Are her senses becoming…
more
?

The halfskin threshold was arbitrary, really. It was determined by the authorities. They said it was illegal to be 50%. Jamie had been 49.9% for last several months, a mere 0.1% from the trash heap. She and Charlie had done plenty of biomite booster seeds, but nothing she’d ever done had exhilarated her quite like the ones Nix put in her.

Why should everything feel so alive again?

She no longer wants to crawl out of her skin. Instead, she sits quietly. The air is sweet and crisp, the world no longer dirty and threatening. The metallic tang of char has melted away, leaving a clean, pure scent in her head, where reality is perfect just the way it is.

Nix’s special blend of biomites had greeted her with a lover’s gentle touch.

She slept until Tennessee. They stop at a rest area and stretch their legs. Jamie looks around like the acid trip is just beginning. The magic feels…
beautiful.

She rides the wave into Kentucky where the rolling hills give way to long stretches of unbending Indiana Interstate. She watches the corn fields run alongside the car, the long rows forming an endless array of legs that reach the horizon where silos gleam.

They cross into Illinois unceremoniously. The skies turn gray, but the terrain remains flat as the highway. Billboards race past in empty fields. Nix stares ahead, hands clamped on the wheel—a posture he’d maintained for most of the trip. It’s dark when they enter Chicago. The buildings are speckled with lights and the pavement is black.

Nix wipes his palms on his pants, the wheel sweaty. He gets off I-90 and enters the city. He turns onto Adams Street, heading toward Lake Michigan, where the streets are wide and the buildings are tall. Ridges of muscle bulge along his jaws, his teeth grinding back and forth. He keeps his eyes locked ahead until they approach a corner bank that’s a massive tower of black glass.

The car slows.

He looks up the reflective walls that reach into the night. The car behind them honks, but he doesn’t speed up. Jamie knows what’s in there. She knows what he’s thinking. The moment he seeded her in the bedroom, he began searching for the pill. The new strain of biomites buzzed inside her, integrating with her nervous system, consuming clay. His thoughts crept through her like tendrils in search of gold. She could sense his invisible touch chatter inside her.

And the pill spilled its secrets.

She doesn’t know how long it took him to do it. The transition into halfskin is hazy and euphoric. She barely remembers sneaking down to the car.

But she remembers what the pill said.

Nix doesn’t say anything as they pass the bank. He resumes his grip on the steering wheel like she wouldn’t notice his lapse into catatonic longing. They find a hotel near the lake. He tries to be a gentleman and get two rooms, but Jamie insists they sleep in the same room.

Because she knows the pill’s secrets, too. And she knows what he’s thinking.

***

Before the sun rises, Nix slides from the hotel bed and carries his shoes. His feet are silent on the carpet. His bag is already packed and waiting. He holds the door handle. Slowly exhaling, he turns it.

“You’re not going without me.” The lamp turns on. Jamie’s hair is spread over the pillow.

“The car’s all yours, Jamie. There’s a stack of cash next to the keys.”

“We had a deal, you bastard.”

He drifts back into the room. “Look, I’m sorry I got you into this, but you’re not coming with me.”

“Like hell.”

She tosses the covers off. Her t-shirt barely covers her white panties as she throws her legs over the side. Nix turns his head, but not as quickly as he should have. Already, she emanates the biomite glow—an unspoken beauty that possesses mothers-to-be and freshly seeded halfskins. It’s not like she wasn’t an attractive young woman before, but now that the edge of her charred state is flushed out, she dazzles.

“I know everything.” She pulls her hair into a ponytail, her t-shirt pulled tight across her chest. “I know where you’re going. I know all the known fabricators have been shut down except the one inside that bank. I know this is probably your last chance, so here’s what’s going to happen.

“I’m going to shower. When I’m done, you’ll shower. We’ll get some breakfast. After that, we’ll go shopping for clothes, something nice. We can’t go in there looking like halfskin junkies. We won’t get within a mile of that place if we do.”

She digs through the balled up clothes in her bag.

“Once we’re clean, full, and beautiful, we’ll go inside to make a deposit. You’ll bring that special vial of yours, the one with the quantum nixes, and make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

“This isn’t going to work.”

“Nix, don’t be negative. We need each other for this to work.”

“Jamie, I don’t need you.”

“Yes, you do.” She throws her bag on the bed. “You need me to not shit on your plans. Because if you leave me, I’ll go into that bank and make a mess. When I’m done blowing your cover, those tight-assed bankers will roll your ass into the street.”

She maintains a poker face, daring him to call.

“You’re halfskin now, Jamie. You’ve got to be careful.”

She holds an elastic band between her lips while retying her ponytail. “I’m going to take a long shower now. The bank doesn’t open for three hours. Get comfortable.”

She closes the bathroom door. The water begins running.

He thought, long before he decided to offer her the nixes, that peace would help her let go of Charlie’s memory, that she’d realize she didn’t need him. He didn’t want to bring her to Chicago. Maybe he should have parted ways earlier, left her in a hotel outside Louisville with money.

She would’ve found the bank on her own. Where else did she have to go?

Nix sits on the bed and waits for the shower.