David Marusek: Mind Over Ship

“It was only later, after your father died, and the first cloned lines were being so shamelessly exploited that I helped to found your Benevolent Brotherhood to protect you kids’ rights. I turned Tommy’s early medical records over to Marcus, including those covering the prenatal repair, but made him swear never to reveal them. It could ruin your germline, even today. Especially today.

“So, there you have it, Fred, the big secret. If we didn’t fix Tommy, his life would have been a brief nightmare, and none of you would exist. But we had him repaired, and though his life was still too short, it was a decent, full, normal life. He had friends and girlfriends, was attentive to us, never got mixed up with bad influences, and he died serving his country. Your Original Flaw is a profound learning disorder, but it was permanently fixed.”

“And I might add,” Marcus put in, “that there is a zero probability of a ‘clone fatigue’ capable of reversing the repair in a mature brain.”

“So, do everyone a big fat favor, son, and get over it already. Quit acting so self-destructive. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“All right then. Be good; stay safe; I love you. Marcus, take me home.”

“I love you too, Mother,” Fred said as the apparition faded from sight. At first Fred felt such a rush of relief he fell back on the couch, drunk and dizzy, the happiest man alive. I’m not a bad man, he told himself over and over. Life was possible again.

After a little while, Marcus said, “There’s still time to board the Fentan .”

“Yes, of course,” Fred said, jumping to his feet.

“You’ll go then?”

The decision was suddenly easy. “Yes.” He looked around his cluttered stateroom. “I’ll just collect my things.” His bag was still packed and ready to go.

“Good. You’ve made the right decision.”

“Thank you, Marcus.”

The mentar signed off, and Fred grabbed his travel bag and went to the door. But he stopped before reaching it when another thought crept into his mind, something Marcus had told him about the hoax russ metaverse, how a mentar could reconstruct all of human media in a day. Was it possible that Marcus had made a counterfeit Agnes Russ in order to manipulate him?

All of the goodness Fred had so recently reclaimed leaked away in a moment. If the Original Flaw was such a goddamn deep secret, faithfully kept for a hundred years even from Thomas A., why would they reveal it to him? Promise me, Freddy, you won’t tell anyone . Yes, Mother. How brief his absolution.

Fred dropped his bag and just stood there, frozen in place again. After a while, when Marcus called back to check on him, he didn’t answer but staggered to his couch, his mind stuttering like a faulty switch. Then out of the blue, a woman’s voice spoke: “I suppose that in a dark room, even a dim bulb feels bright.”

“Mary?” The FUS was active, Mary was watching him. Her surroundings had changed; she was no longer in her Starke suite. He recognized their apartment. “You’re at home! Where have you been? Are you all right?”

She waved away his questions. “I only made this update to say good-bye, Fred. They wanted to biostase us, but we refused. I am mentally competent and so have the right to decide my own fate. My sisters and I have seen through the illusion of meaning. There is no meaning to life, Fred. There is no heaven or hell, no afterlife. And since we live in a society in which we are banned even from bearing children, there is no biological afterlife either. Knowing all this is killing my sisters, and it will take me, too, very soon.”

“You’re wrong! About there being no meaning, and about your mental competence. Obviously, you are temporarily insane, and as your spouse, I have the authority to —”

“You have no authority over me, Fred. I am my own person. Besides, you couldn’t change things even if you tried. Stay up there and do your duty. That at least has meaning for you. This is good-bye, Fred. This is the end.”

“Don’t talk like that! Listen to me!” But she began to slip away again into her darkness. “You say you updated the FUS in order to say good-bye. Obviously, then, good-byes mean something to you. Your feelings for me mean something.”

“If you must hold on to something, Fred, then hold on to that.” With those final words, the FUS made a holo salute and withdrew into a passive state, and all of Fred’s cajoling and arguments were so much noise.

The FUS holo showed a little of Mary’s surroundings; a pair of legs intruded into the holospace, and Fred zoomed the view out as far as possible. Another evangeline was sitting there, Cyndee, who had helped them leave the prison. A third evangeline in the room was probably Georgine, who he had not met. They were placeholders, not active sims, as was a jenny nurse who moved in and out of the holospace.

Fred paced his room trying to come up with a plan. He picked up his travel bag, but set it down again. Think! He ordered his genetically repaired moron brain — Think! But thinking, like all his not-thinking, got him nowhere. His brain was the wrong muscle. He picked up his bag. Love was the only answer. Mary needed him. He wasn’t helping her by staying; at least by going there was some minuscule chance of reaching her in time.

Someone knocked frantically at his door. Fred dropped the bag, made a fist, cocked his arm, and flung the door open. He threw a punch but pulled it back before it landed. Mando was at his door, in his service uniform, and it looked like someone had already punched him. His left eye was bruised and swollen half shut.

“Fred! Why are you still here?” Mando said. “Why aren’t you aboard the Fentan ?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Fred, Fred, Fred,” Mando said, pushing past him into the room. He glanced all around, saw Mary’s FUS and the spacefaring donald, spotted the travel bag. He picked it up and thrust it into Fred’s hands. “We must hurry.”

“Yes,” Fred said, “let’s go.” Fred swiped away the holos, and they left the room. In the hall, the walls on either side of his door had been marked with hateful words and glyphs.

“Forget about that,” Mando said and pulled Fred by the arm.

“Wrong way,” Fred said. “The spokeway lifts are that way.”

But Mando was insistent. “We’ll take a utility lift to the hub. The main spokeways aren’t safe.” He didn’t elaborate.

“Who hit you?” Fred said. “Was it a brother? Do you know his name?”

“It’s not important. Getting you on that ship is important.” He led Fred down little-used corridors to a service lift. They passed only a few startled dorises and aslams along the way.

“Wait a minute,” Fred said as the elevator doors opened. “Why are you in a TECA uniform?”

“Because I am on duty.”

“But why aren’t you on the Fentan ? You were supposed to board days ago.” Then the truth hit Fred. “No one would sell you another homerun. You sold me your own ticket!”

“Yes, and if we don’t hurry, it will all be for nothing. Come, my crazy friend.”

He tried to pull Fred into the elevator car, but Fred stood fast. “What about Luisa? Don’t you want to go to her? It’s your ticket, not mine. How dare you put my heart before your own?”

Pain flashed across Mando’s damaged face. “There is no time, Fred. When you are on the ship, call me and we will talk.”