Michael Sullivan - Hollow World

“I plan to introduce the proposal under the allowance for reintroducing an indigenous species.” Pol walked slightly ahead of everyone else, sweeping around the glassy pools, the orange toga slapping Pol’s calves.

“You’re not serious? They’re humans,” Rex said.

“Most certainly an indigenous species to the surface of the planet, don’t you think?”

“But you’ll be opening the door to a two-class system. This runs contrary to everything we’ve tried to achieve. History is filled with examples of humanity killing and enslaving others because of their differences. We’ve nearly eliminated all that, which has reduced divisions between people to a fraction of what they used to be. Now you want to undo everything?”

“But think of Ellis Rogers, here,” Pol insisted. “Think how lonely he is. We aren’t asking for a nation, only a single woman that he can find happiness with.”

Ellis felt like Frankenstein’s monster, with Igor pleading with the doctor for a wife.

“But the potential for children…”

“She can be sterilized,” Dex said. The Firestone resident surgeon looked odd without the Amish duds, and could have blended in with the rest if not for the lack of fingers. “I can handle the procedure myself. We don’t even need to involve the ISP if that’s an issue. I only need the pattern.”

Rex looked uncomfortable. “I’ll consider it, but I can’t make such a decision alone, obviously.”

“Which means you won’t do it?”

“There has to be a consensus.”

Pol looked disappointed, and turned to Ellis. “Have they been treating you poorly?”

“Poorly!” Rex said. “Of course not.”

“Perhaps we should let Ellis Rogers answer that.”

“Ah—well,” Ellis began. Rex and some of the others looked ashen. “Everything is wonderful and all. I’m just concerned—well, I just realized I don’t know how long I’ve been here.”

Pol began to nod. “You’ve been time traveling again, Ellis Rogers. I brought you here just about a month ago.”

“ A month? ” Ellis was stunned. “But—I thought—someone told me a transplant was a walk-in procedure.”

“It is,” Rex assured him. “The month was the time it took to grow the organs. For most people, we have what they need banked, or if they’re unusual—though very few are—we just look up their pattern and build the tissue needed before they come in. Then it’s just an hour or two procedure. But you’re unique. We had to sample your DNA and build from scratch. To avoid the unpleasantness and stress of waiting a month with your body hooked up to support, we kept your brain locked in stasis.”

“A month,” Ellis repeated. What about Pax? Does Pax know where I’ve been? Or does Pax think I no longer care? A month!

“Now that you are better, Ellis Rogers, I wanted to let you know that I am setting up a world tour. The rumors that ignited when you first visited me have exploded during your stay here. Everyone wants to see you and hear you speak.”

“Why?” Ellis asked.

No one answered. They all looked at each other, dumbfounded.

“Why?” Rex asked. “Ellis Rogers, as I just mentioned, you’re unique.”

Ellis shrugged.

“In Hollow World”—Pol took over—“that makes you extraordinary. A symbol of hope to some.” Pol looked at Rex and a few others gathered beside them. “And concern to others.”

Ellis saw Rex frown. “The Hive Project will not steal individualism. Its purpose is to eliminate misunderstandings similar to the one we are experiencing at this very minute.”

“Clearly, as I didn’t mean to suggest anything other than that some people might see Ellis Rogers as a rallying point for an anti-Hive agenda.”

“The Hive Mind will be the greatest leap forward for our species since the opposable thumb. The single advantage humans possess above all other creatures is our minds.” Rex’s voice heated up, growing more passionate. “Every major advancement has been a direct result of amplifying the contributions of that organ. Language allowed the transfer of ideas, writing boosted that transfer, the printing press scaled it, and the Internet took it global, unfettered by restrictions. Each of these inventions has coincided with a boom in species advancement—and all those will pale in comparison with the limitless possibilities of our whole species functioning together for the first time as one harmonious entity.”

This was obviously a sore spot in an ongoing debate, and the concise, speech-like argument impressed Ellis as having the familiarity of something often repeated if not actually rehearsed.

Rex went on as Pol listened with a polite but unmoved expression. “Standardized language was a major advancement, but any language is limited by its inability to precisely convey thoughts. Misunderstandings and even intentional deceit have always introduced conflict. We’ve managed to eliminate most of the violence associated with these, but we’ve only been treating the symptom—not the disease. The Hive will finally cure us.”

“One might argue,” Pol said as if he were on the floor of the Roman Senate, “and many have, that death also cures many illnesses. You can eliminate poor eyesight by merely plucking out a person’s eyes. And there’s the question of whether a salmon would be cured of its need to swim upstream if it were turned into a bird. Or would the salmon simply become extinct?”

“Has a caterpillar ever complained about turning into a butterfly?” Rex asked.

“If only we could ask.”

“Ah.” Rex looked smug. “Once more the limitations of language!”

Pol smiled. It was not a friendly expression.

“But I was told the Hive Project was a failure,” Ellis said. “That you’ve been working on it for centuries and haven’t got anywhere. Isn’t that right?”

Rex frowned and nodded. “Just too many possibilities, so many combinations, and we’re working blind. In the past, random mutations offered examples to work from. We’re convinced it’s possible, because the history of our species is littered with stories of humans with extrasensory capacities, but we’ve never managed to map the DNA of an authentic telepath, because we’ve eliminated natural selection. The random event can’t happen anymore. We don’t even know what we’re looking for. There’s a few sequences of genes we’ve never fully understood, and we’ve tried randomizing these in recent patterns, but you’re right. The Hive Project is little more than a dream at this point.”

“We all have our problems to deal with,” Pol said with an inflection that was less than sympathetic. Then, turning to Ellis, he added, “As I was saying, I have been scheduling a tour of the world and with your permission would like to kick it off tomorrow, if you are feeling up to it.”

“So soon?” Rex complained.

“Unless there’s reason to suspect Ellis Rogers is not fully recovered, that something went wrong with the—”

“Of course nothing went wrong!” Rex said. “We just hoped to have a bit more time.”

“You’ve had Ellis Rogers for a month. The rest of the world wants to see him, and I’m certain Ellis Rogers would like to see the rest of Hollow World. But all that will begin tomorrow. Now you have a speech to give.”

“A what?” Ellis asked.

They were approaching the center of the Grand Cathedral where a small stage had been erected. Portals began popping like flashbulbs; in minutes the great hall was flooded with a sea of faces. All looked at him.

“We were hoping you’d say a few words to the associates here,” Rex said, the eager look of a child in the administrator’s eyes.

Ellis watched as more and more portals popped. This had been arranged, timed. Some sort of notice or memo sent. He wished they had asked him. As the audience assembled, murmuring like some giant boiling pot, he felt obligated. He couldn’t say no.