Sergei Lukyanenko - The Genome

He immediately put away the bonus-crystal named “100,000 Best Commercials, from the 20th Century to Today” that had been included by the thoughtful merchants of the entertainment industry. No, thanks.

Three more crystals remained—classical literature, music, and drama. Of course, it would be pleasant to sit on a porch near the ocean shore, sipping a cold cocktail, hearing the cries of the seagulls, and reading a good book. It would be just as pleasant to enjoy the same activity on a cold fall evening in an armchair by the warmth of the fireplace, listening to the drumming of the slanting rain upon the windowpanes.

And, of course, there was the “Sex Kaleidoscope,” an entertainment crystal approved by the Imperial Health Committee, as well as by the Church, for use by space-crew on long trips.

Alex thoughtfully twirled the crystal in his hand. He did, after all, want to check out what love was. And the “Kaleidoscope” was best suited for that purpose. Even without any love , Alex had derived plenty of pleasant emotions from that simple handbook of all the possible forms of sexual activity.

He pressed the tiny crystal into the resilient suction cup, then waited a moment, and relaxed. The world went foggy as it disappeared.

After the abrupt transitions of the virtual space created by Edgar, the “Sex Kaleidoscope” made a cozy, soothing impression. Through the mist, the walls appeared, a chandelier poured down a soft light, and a soft fluffy carpet laid itself under his feet.

“Welcome…” said a gentle genderless voice. “Would you like to choose your sexual role?”

Alex thought a moment.

“Okay… I am a man…”

“Accepted,” confirmed the voice.

“Not inclined to masochism, no interest in bestiality or xenophilia… and let’s not try homosexuality…”

“Accepted…”

“The rest is up to you,” said Alex with a hint of doubt. “Random choice.”

“Enter.”

A door opened in the wall. Soft, pleasant music could be heard.

A random choice of sexual adventures was the favorite game of astronauts, especially those on long flights, though a few awkward mishaps had taught Alex to make strict provisions for a few basic demands. It wasn’t exactly fun having to flee from a crowd of naked, muscular black men armed with chains and leather whips.

But this time there seemed to be no trouble. Alex’s body changed as he passed through the door. He got taller, gained a sizable belly, and his arms were now covered with little red hairs. He carried a small carton, which was obviously not empty, though not very heavy, either. In front of him was the empty elevator lobby of a skyscraper. Judging by the color of the sky in the window, it wasn’t on Earth. Mingling with the music came a calm, self-assured voice:

“My sex life has been regular and traditional. As a child and an adolescent, I paid my tribute to the fad for group sex. Upon passing my specialization and becoming a pastry chef-spesh, I entered into a normal tripartite family. But something has been bothering me and making me suffer. I’ve been feeling dissatisfied. Often during the night, I stand at the open window, watching swift Charon pass through the waning half-moon of Cerberus, and dreaming… of what? I have not been quite prepared to admit my inclinations to myself…”

Alex waited patiently, though the commentary was obviously going to be long and nebulous.

He stepped forward, and the voice stopped abruptly in mid-word, then continued at a faster, more energetic pace:

“I’ve come to the Fast Transit company office to hand-deliver a wonderful chocolate cake to the company’s vice president. He’s celebrating the one hundred and first birthday of his mother, the founder and the first president of Fast Transit…”

A soft push made Alex step toward one of the elevators. He could’ve resisted it, of course, but that would defeat the whole purpose of his being there.

The elevator doors opened with a melodious chime. Alex went in, and immediately felt that something was not quite right.

First of all, there was only one other passenger in the elevator: a small, gray-haired, elderly lady, wrinkled and stooping. She wore a shapeless brown dress, and a headscarf covered her thin, faded hair.

Secondly, the floor in the elevator was covered with a soft rug.

“Good morning, ma’am…” Alex forced himself to say. The granny said nothing, only nodded, tilting her flabby chin, and stared at the mirrored wall.

Maybe he’d still luck out? The elevator started to crawl up smoothly.

“My heart skipped a sweet beat…” triumphantly announced the commentator.

“Shit!” Alex hissed, clenching his fists.

“For some reason, I started thinking of my mother…” continued the voice musingly. “Those times when, as a youth, I’d come home late at night and climb into a bath, and then my mom would come in and, for a long time, she would slowly, tenderly wash my hair…”

Alex pressed his back into the corner of the elevator. No, he wouldn’t move! He still had his free will, after all!

“The elevator went on climbing and climbing,” the narrator said, commenting on the obvious. “And suddenly!”

Alex dug his fingers into the walls. But in virtuality, even his spesh reflexes failed him. The elevator halted, literally in an instant. He was tossed upwards, thrown against the wall, and hurled onto the floor. The cake carton was ripped out of his hands and smashed against the wall. Icing squirted out, and pieces of broken chocolate figures came cascading down. There was a nasty grinding squeak. The elevator stopped, swaying a little, as though it was being pulled up not by a gravitational field, but a common cable.

His own instincts played a bad trick on him. He couldn’t help perceiving what had just happened as anything other than a catastrophe.

And a captain’s duty was to take care of the passengers.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” Alex asked, kneeling beside the granny, who had dropped to the floor. Her puffy, reddish eyelids fluttered. The elderly lady glanced myopically up at Alex.

“Oh… sonny… my poor bones…”

“Do not move, ma’am.” He had forgotten that he was in virtuality… and a very peculiar one, at that. “The emergency systems will be triggered any minute now….”

But the elevator wasn’t about to open the doors.

“I’m scared…” the granny whimpered. She stretched out her arm, wrapping it around Alex’s neck. “I am claustrophobic, sonny. It’s a medical condition. A hundred and twenty years old is no joke…”

The unseen commentator gushed on, triumphantly:

“I looked and looked at her sweet, wrinkled face, bearing the traces of every year lived, every worry, every sorrow… And at that moment, I realized that I had never really loved anyone but these most wonderful of all human creatures, the embodiments of life’s ripeness and the highest expression of femininity—elderly ladies! And now, at long last, a bad accident leaves me all alone with…”

“I think I wet myself,” said the lady, coyly lowering her eyes. “But no broken bones!”

“Morons!” yelled Alex, throwing off the poor patient’s arm and jumping to his feet. “Hacks! If the elevator gear had failed, we would’ve been smeared all over the walls! Quit program!”

Even the emergency exit was realistically presented here. The doors flew open. A team of paramedics rushed in. The granny, still reaching for Alex, was carried off on a stretcher. A quick-moving youth in a waiter’s uniform scraped the remnants of the cake off the wall and stuffed them back into the carton.

Only after that came a tide of fog, and Alex found himself back at the starting place of the “Kaleidoscope.”