Post-Human Series Books 1-4 (25 page)

2

With a 600-degree Celsius surface, Venus might have been hell, but James wouldn’t have had it any other way. H
is favorite part of the day was his approach to the planet and subsequent descent into the atmosphere.

It was roughly the same size as Earth, with only a few hundred kilometers separating them in diameter, but that was one of the few similarities it shared with its sister planet. Its atmosphere consisted almost entirely of carbon dioxide, and the resulting greenhouse effect made it the hottest planet in the solar system. The deadly heat made the existence of water on the planet impossible, but there was rain—a deadly sulfuric acid that combined with the heat to make Venus as inhospitable a place as any in the solar system—just the sort of challenge on which James thrived.

Once he reached the Venusian stratosphere, James set a course for the research lab on the surface. He smiled as he entered the thick, dark clouds and blasted through the acid and heat.

On the surface, in the research lab that was not so affectionately referred to as “The Oven” by the workers who inhabited it, Thel Cleland looked up from her work on the magnetic propeller and watched a tiny blue dot in her mind’s eye—the dot that signified the approach of Commander Keats. She had taken it upon herself to be there to personally greet him when he arrived that morning, so she’d been watching for him for the last ten minutes. “Look sharp, everybody. The boss is coming!” she announced to her two fellow workers as they prepared for the morning’s experiment.

“The boss?” replied Djanet Dove, smiling to herself.

Rich Borges smiled too.

It was difficult to think of Commander Keats as a “boss.” He was young, friendly, caring, and a pleasure to work with.

Thel stood and floated gently up toward the airlock. She was a tall, slender, dark-haired woman with a strong, athletic build. There was a certain unmistakable self-confidence in her every move, every gesture, every stance. At fifty, she felt she finally knew how to live; she’d earned her self-assurance. Of course, as with everyone else, the nans had kept her young—biologically, she was twenty-nine, and men of all ages pursued her relentlessly. She knew what she was looking for, though. She knew
exactly
what she was looking for.

The greenish glow of James’s magnetic field was visible for an instant before he emerged from the cloud cover. Weather moved slowly on Venus—there was rarely anything to obscure one’s view on the surface, and Thel was able to watch Commander Keats—James—completely unobscured as he approached the outer magnetic doors. Once inside, he disengaged his magnetic field and opened the airlock door.

Thel floated before him, smiling as he removed his helmet. She laughed and covered her mouth.

“What?” James asked, surprised.

Thel reached out and wiped the corner of his lip with the tip of her finger. “You’ve got egg on your face this morning, Commander.”

“Oh...thanks,” he said, his face coloring.

“No problem, Commander.”

James struggled to look into her eyes; it was difficult to look at her—she seemed able to look right through him, right into his soul. Did she know what he was thinking?

But I can’t control what I want to do—I can only control what I actually do
.

He turned away for a moment and noticed Rich and Djanet watching—not working—watching. “Uh...preparations are going okay, I hope?”

Thel noticed the changed look on James’s face and turned to see her coworkers as they sneaked quick glances upward, trying to look as though they weren’t looking. Her smile broadened. “Just fine, Commander. We’ll be ready.”

“Good, good. I...uh...I better go get ready.” James began to float across the lab toward the second-story doorway to his office but stopped when he noticed another greenish light emerging from the clouds. “Hey...it’s Old-timer!”

Old-timer, formerly known as Craig Emilson, arrived on the exact same trajectory as James had a minute earlier. He was dressed in an identical flight suit, as all the researchers were, and only his extra ten centimeters in height prevented dizzying déjà vu. After Old-timer entered the airlock and slipped off his helmet, he smiled at Thel, kissed her on the cheek, and vigorously shook hands with James. “Hey, good buddy!” Old-timer said, offering his usual, very familiar greeting.

“Good morning, pal!” replied James.

Old-timer had the polar opposite effect on James that Thel did; somehow,
he
put the younger man at ease. He was self-assured, just as Thel was, but there was something different.

“Too bad about those Canucks of yours, eh, Jimmy?”

“I’m impressed, Old-timer. It took you all of four seconds to bring that up.”

“Well, I’m not one for beating around the bush, especially when it comes to collecting on a wager. You owe me.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t forget.”

“What did you bet?” Thel inquired.

Old-timer and James exchanged glances.

“Would you like to tell her, or shall I?” asked Old-timer.

“I wouldn’t dare deprive you of your chance to gloat. The honor is yours.”

“Thank you, sir,” Old-timer responded, performing an exaggerated bow. “Commander Keats has agreed to join me this evening for...are you ready, Thel?”

“What is it?”

“For a beer!”

Thel gasped in mock astonishment. “I can’t believe it! You got
him
to agree to have a drink! I’ve been trying to get him to have a drink with me for three years!”

“Well, we can thank a certain Martian expansion hockey team for this miracle!”

“I still can’t believe they lost,” James said, almost pouting.

“Oh, c’mon! Don’t look so down, champ! You’ll enjoy it! The nans will fix up those brain cells overnight! I promise, you won’t do a speck of damage to that noggin of yours.”

“Is that why you don’t drink, Commander? Afraid you might lose an IQ point?” Thel asked in jest.

“I just don’t see the appeal. I like thinking. I enjoy it. Why would anyone purposefully impair their ability to do it?”

Old-timer and Thel looked at each other for a moment before they burst out laughing. “Hopefully you’ll find out at the pub with me tonight,” Old-timer replied before adding, “You ready to fire up the
Zeus
this morning?”

“Can’t wait.”

Old-timer, like everyone else, was twenty-nine biologically, but he was chronologically 110—the only centenarian on the team. He moved like a young man and had the libido of a young man, but one could tell after only a few moments in his presence that he was a senior. Something seemed to happen to people once they reached a certain age: They seemed to recapture their joy of life, and they often got along best with the younger generations.

“Are you ready, Old-timer?” Thel asked.

“You know I am always ready for an-y-thing,” he replied, leaning in toward the younger woman, putting his arm around her and raising his eyebrow saucily. Only Old-timer could take such liberties with her.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone,” James said, smiling. “I’ll be in my office for a few minutes. We’ll commence at 9:30 a.m. Pacific. Let everyone know.” James met Thel’s eyes one last time; she could still see through him.

Inside his office, James removed his flight jacket and set his helmet down next to his desk. The office was sparsely decorated, with just a desk in the middle of the room and a couple of chairs. He meant to replicate a plant, but kept forgetting. He hoped Thel would pick one out for him, since she likely had better taste than he did.

A sudden flash appeared in the corner of his vision, activating his mind’s eye. It was Inua Colbe, returning his call. James sighed when he saw the other man and took a moment to collect himself before responding flatly, “Keats here.”

“James? James, I just watched a rather unpleasant message on my phone. What’s the matter with you?”

“I could ask you the same thing. You used my name on a broadcast.”

“And?”

“I know how they think, Inua. I know how the mind works. I know how it works better than anyone. They’ll feel a connection to me, and I don’t want that.”

“Calm down, James. Calm.”

James folded his arms.

Inua reassessed. “How long has it been since we’ve been golfing together?”

“Two years,” James replied, sitting down behind his desk.

“Two years? Two years? Holy...that time with our wives in Arizona? That was—”

“Yes, two years.”

“My, how time flies. Listen, we should go again.”

“Golf? Please tell me you have something better to offer than that.”

“I’m not offering anything,” Inua said, suddenly indignant. “Remember, James, I’m the guy that got you Venus.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, there are still a lot of prominent people down here who want you removed. A faction in the Governing Council thinks the Hektor plan is more practical than yours.”

James smiled. “I agree. Without question, the Hektor plan is a much more practical way of blowing up Venus. On the other hand, if you want to terraform her—”

“You’re being belligerent.”

“Then fire me, Inua.”

“Look, all I am saying is there are a lot of people down here with multiple PhDs who disagree with you.”

“But
you
agree with me. The Hektor plan is lunacy, and you know it. Smashing an asteroid into Venus to get rid of the atmosphere isn’t going to accomplish anything other than destroying the planet. You have to have a little more finesse than that, Inua. Jesus Christ! You know this.”

“I did you a favor. Don’t bust my balls just because I needed you to do me a favor in return.”

“I’ve done enough favors. All I asked was that I remain anonymous. Was that too much to ask?”

A new strategy flashed into Inua’s eyes. “What are you afraid of, James? You’re afraid you’ll be famous for a little while?”

“Exactly.”

“Let me let you in on a little secret. Fame is a sham—a total sham. It’s spectacle. No one who’s famous deserves it. They’re only famous because the public needs to believe that there are people worth idolizing—it’s the malady of the herd.”

“I know this, Inua.”

“Do you? That’s interesting. And do you also know we’re forecasting a 210 IQ for the general public within a decade?”

James did not respond.

“That’s right. 210. The people will have reached
your
level.”

“Based on my model?”

“Based on your model. You. The man who knows fame is a sham. Do you think the general public will care about you then, once you’re just like them?”

For the first time in his life, James felt the need to throw up.

“You’re going to live forever, James. Up against forever, ten years of fame won’t seem like much.”

“No. No it won’t.”

“There. You see?” Inua was smiling now. “Even with that big soppy brain of yours, old Inua can still teach you a thing or two. Now try to relax, my friend, and try enjoy the notoriety, okay? And let’s make sure we get together for some golf soon—maybe next week, once people are used to the new upgrade and the PR tour is over. What do you say?”

“I-I hate golf. I’ll take you to a hockey game.”

Inua laughed—it was hollow—a salesman’s laugh. “Okay, old friend. Okay. Goodbye.”

The connection was severed. James swiveled his chair around and faced the glass wall behind his desk. Outside was dark, hot hell.

3

James glided out of his office and toward the central dome of the lab. There, the other four members of the research team were sitting together near the base of the MP—the four-st
ory tall magnetic propeller that stood in the middle of the lab. It was about twice as thick as the coast redwood trees near his house in Vancouver and built primarily of titanium. Old-timer had taken to calling it
Zeus
and the name was appropriate; it was worthy of the gods. James activated his mind’s eye and quickly saw that the rest of the team was already signed in and were ready to begin monitoring the test run.

“Feeling lucky, Commander?” Rich called up from his seat next to the other researchers.

“Who needs luck when you have math?” James replied, jokingly.

“Who needs luck when we have
you
?” said Thel.

James smiled.

So many things seemed to be wrong in his life. He wasn’t sure exactly what they were—there was just a feeling—like something was slipping away. It wore on him.

Zeus sustained him. These moments made him happy. To accomplish something—something amazing—that sustained him.

His life had not been like other people’s. In a time when infants were born into the world with every genetic advantage known to science, James was exceptional. No one had isolated the genes that could create someone like him—at least not yet.

At the age of six, he designed his first robot. At the age of seven, he designed one that could translate French into English. By the time he was ten, he had programmed it to learn other languages and it became the first speaking universal translator on Earth. The robot was confiscated by the A.I. Governing Council later that year—only one A.I. was allowed to function on Earth—but the Council took note of its young designer, and were quick to put him to work.

James was offered a position in any government field he desired, and he chose terraforming. At that time, the terraforming of the moon was well underway, but a Martian project seemed decades, if not centuries, down the road. James changed all that when he invented the SRS—the Self-Replicating System. He designed dense programs for robots that would blast off to another planet and reproduce. “
Adam
”
was sent to Mars when James was only fourteen. By the time James was sixteen, Adam had used the available resources on the planet to reproduce 100 times. The resulting work force built a research lab that was ready for human inhabitants the following year. James began commuting to Mars soon thereafter and, only five years later, Mars had been terraformed. Now, fifteen years after the terraforming was complete, Mars had its own city—its own hockey team—and the bastards had beaten the Canucks.

Venus was a whole other matter—a planet that could be the jewel of the solar system if only its harsh atmosphere could be removed. The scientists on the Governing Council had their hopes set on a plan that had been designed almost half a century earlier. They wanted to use nuclear detonations to knock the Hektor asteroid into Venus, the theory being that the resulting explosion would destroy the carbon dioxide atmosphere. Then the crackpots wanted to attach a gigantic rocket onto Jupiter’s moon,
IO, and send it on a quarter-century long trip to Venus, where it would act as a sunshield and allow for the cooling of the planet. The whole process would take a century.

James’s success on Mars killed their plan, making it look needlessly elaborate in comparison. Now the pressure was on him to prove that his Venus idea could succeed as well, delivering results that were faster and better than those proposed by the Governing Council’s top minds. The first step was to send an SRS to the planet—it built the lab and the Zeus. The Zeus functioned on the same principles as the magnetic implants in everyone’s spinal cords; these implants created a magnetic propulsion and generated the protective fields that allowed people to fly—even through space. The Zeus would generate this same magnetic energy but would spin it like a propeller, creating a massive fan, thus forcing the atmosphere of Venus into space. The Zeus James would activate that day was just a prototype—a baby. If it functioned properly, James would signal the go-ahead to the SRS robots still on the surface to build another Zeus—one two kilometers high and the width of a football field, with the capability of removing the Venusian atmosphere in a matter of months.

It just needed to work today.

“Whenever you’re ready, James,” Old-timer said, smiling up at his young friend.

James was still floating about a dozen feet above the floor of the lab. “Okay. This is it. Keep your eyes on those meters. The numbers have to line up exactly as they do in the simulation. If you see anything amiss, you have permission to engage shut down. Everybody copy?”

“Aye, Aye, Cap’n,” replied Rich. The others likewise assented, albeit without Rich’s unnecessary seafaring pirate accent.

“Okay then. Let’s do it.”

The Zeus began to spin. It moved without noise, floating on magnetic energy. It quickly began to pick up steam. Before long, the movement caused the air in the lab to circulate into a breeze.

“Mmm...feels kind of nice,” Rich commented.

“Concentrate, guys,” James said, still looking straight up through the tinted roof of the dome.

The clouds were clearly starting to swirl. It was a magnificent sight. The clouds moved so slowly on Venus—to see them swirl as though a prairie summer storm were about to break sent chills down James’s spine.

“By God, I think you just worked your latest miracle, James,” Old-timer announced.

“It’s exactly to the computer model—to the decimal point,” Djanet reported.

“It has to be. I don’t want to take any—”

Suddenly, there was a flash of light—a crack of energy that went through James’s body before he lost consciousness. In the last second before he blacked out, he knew he was falling.