Supermen: Tales of the Posthuman Future (79 page)

New British writer Eric Brown, with more than fifty short-story sales to his credit, is one of the most prolific authors at shorter lengths currently working in the field. He has become one of
Interzone's
most frequent contributors, and also appears in markets such as
Spectrum SF, Science Fiction Age, Aboriginal SF, Moon Shots,
and many others. His first book was the collection
The Time-Lapsed Man and Other Stories,
which appeared in 1990; his first novel,
Meridian Days,
appeared in 1992. His most recent books are the novels
Penumbra
and
New York Nights.
Here he shows us that no matter how high up the ladder of evolution we might climb, we should never get so high as to lose sight of those coming up behind…

*

On the eve of my five-hundredth rebirthday, as I strolled the gardens of my manse, a messenger appeared and informed me that I had a visitor.
"Severnius wishes to consult you on a matter of urgency," said the ball of light. "Shall I make an appointment?"
"Severnius? How long has it been? No— I'll see him now."
The light disappeared.
It was the end of a long autumn afternoon, and a low sun was filling the garden with a rich and hazy light. I had been contemplating my immediate future, quite how I should approach the next century. I am a man methodical and naturally circumspect: not for me the grand announcements of intent detailing how I might spend my
next
five hundred years. I prefer to plan ahead one hundred years at a time, ever hopeful of the possibility of change, within myself and without. For the past week I had considered many avenues of inquiry and pursuit, but none had appealed to me. I had awoken early that morning, struck with an idea like a revelation: Quietus.
I composed myself on a marble bench beneath an arbor entwined with fragrant roses. The swollen sun sank amid bright tangerine strata, and on the other side of the sky, the moon rose, full yet insubstantial, above the manse.
Severnius stepped from the converter and crossed the glade. He always wore his primary soma-form when we met, as a gesture of respect: that of a wise man of yore, with flowing silver-gray hair and beard. He was a Fellow some two thousand years old, garbed in the magenta robes of the Academy.
We embraced in silence, a short communion in which I reacquainted myself with his humanity.
"Fifty years?" I asked.
He smiled. "More like eighty," he said, and then gave the customary greeting of these times: "To your knowledge."
"Your knowledge," I responded.
We sat and I gestured, and wine and glasses appeared upon the bench between us.
"Let me see, the last time we met, you were still researching the Consensus of Rao."
"I concluded that it was an unworkable proposition, superseded by the latest theories." I smiled. "But worth the investigation."
Severnius sipped his wine. "And now?"
"I wound down my investigations ten years ago, and since then I've been exploring the Out-there. Seeking the new…"
He smiled, something almost condescending in his expression. He was my patron and teacher; he was disdainful of the concept of the new.
"Where are you now?" he asked. "What have you found?"
"Much as ever, permutations of what has been and what is known…" I closed my eyes, and made contact. "I
is on Pharia, in the Nilakantha Star-drift, taking in the ways of the natives there; I
is in love with a quasi-human on a nameless moon half a galaxy away; I
is climbing Selerious Mons on Titan."
"It appears that you are…
waiting?
" he said. "Biding your time with meaningless pursuits. Considering your options for the next century."
I hesitated. It occurred to me then how propitious was his arrival. I would never have gone ahead with Quietus without consulting him.
"A thought came to me this morning, Severnius. Five hundred years is a long time. With your tutelage and my inquiries…" I gestured, "I have learned much, dare I say everything? I was contemplating a period of Quietus."
He nodded, considering my words. "A possibility," he agreed. "Might I inquire as to the duration?"
"It really only occurred to me at dawn. I don't know— perhaps a thousand years."
"I once enjoyed Quietus for five hundred," said Severnius. "I was reinvigorated upon awakening— the thrill of change, the knowledge of the learning to be caught up with."
"Precisely my thoughts."
"There is an alternative, of course."
I stared at him. "There is?"
He hesitated, marshaling his words. "My Fellows at the Academy last week Enstated and Enabled an Early," he said. "The process, though wholly successful physiologically, was far from psychologically fulfilled. We had to wipe his memories of the initial awakening and instruction. We are ready to try again."
I stared at him. The Enstating and Enabling of an Early was a rare occurrence indeed. I said as much.
"You," Severnius said, "were the last."
Even though I had been considered a success, my rehabilitation had required his prolonged patronage. I thought through what he had told me so far, the "urgency" of his presence here.
He was smiling. "I have been watching your progress closely these past eighty years," he said. "I submitted your name to the Academy. We agreed that you should be made a Fellow, subject to the successful completion of a certain test."
"And that is?" I asked, aware of my heartbeat. All thought of Quietus fled at the prospect of becoming a Fellow.
"The patronage and stewardship of the Early we Enstated and Enabled last week," Severnius said.
It was a while before I could bring myself to reply. Awareness of the great honor of being considered by the Academy was offset by my understanding of the difficulty of patronage. "But you said that the subject was psychologically damaged."
Severnius gestured. "You studied advanced psychohealing in your second century. We have confidence in your abilities."
"It will be a considerable undertaking. A hundred years, more?"
"When we Enstated and Enabled you, I was your steward for almost fifty years. We think that perhaps a hundred years might suffice in this case."
"Perhaps," I said, "before I make a decision, might I meet the subject?"
Severnius nodded. "By all means," he replied, and while he gave me the details of the Early, his history, I closed my eyes and made contact. I recalled I
from his studies on Pharia, and I
from Titan. I
I gave a little time to conclude his affair with the alien.
Minutes later I
and I
followed each other from the converter and stepped across the glade, calling greetings to Severnius. They appeared as younger, more carefree versions of myself, before age and wisdom had cured me of vanity. I stood and reached out, and we merged.
Their thoughts, their respective experiences on Pharia and Titan, became mine— and while I