Sergei Lukyanenko - The Genome

“Do you have complaints?” the system asked him with alarm.

“Yes I do! Tons of complaints!” Alex cut himself short, realizing that he was yelling at the simplest service program. “Okay. Remove geriatric sex from the list!”

“The social importance of gerontophilia is immense,” objected the system. “Its roots…”

“Never mind! Remove! Give me something else. But give me a synopsis first!”

For a few seconds, the system shuffled the possible options.

“An extremely interesting and unusual adventure…”

“Synopsis?”

“A middle-aged male accountant-spesh, who used to have a binary family, which had dissolved through no fault of his, works at the Imperial Committee for Lightweight Armaments. He is extremely shy, and that interferes with his sex life, as well as his career advancement.”

The system was silent for a moment, as if waiting for any objections. Alex shrugged his shoulders. It was a typical beginning.

“The head of the committee is a female coordinator-spesh. Completely absorbed by her work, she dedicates very little time to socially beneficial sexual activities. A socially and professionally successful male comrade of the accountant joins the committee team. He advises your character to become a sexual partner of the coordinator-spesh in order to get promoted and to satisfy sexual instincts. Does this suit you so far?”

“Yes, fine,” said Alex cautiously.

“After a series of comical and captivating adventures, the accountant-spesh manages to gain the love of the coordinator-spesh. However, as circumstances would have it, the character’s villainous male comrade informs the coordinator-spesh of the true motivations behind the accountant’s sexual activities. But that does not hinder the happiness of the two lovers. They form a solid, happy binary family and live together for a long time.”

Alex was silent, totally stunned.

“Does this suit you?”

“Do the committee members engage in sexual orgies?” he asked cautiously. “Is there a failed romance between the main character and his male comrade, which causes the comrade to betray him?”

“No.”

“Any sadomasochistic aspects of the accountant’s love with the coordinator?”

The system hesitated. “Hardly worth mentioning. The accountant splashes the coordinator with water from a decanter. The coordinator tosses a few print-outs in the face of the accountant.”

Alex had never had occasion to deal with such a plot in the past.

“That’s interesting,” he conceded. “Good… unusual, but good.”

“The duration of the plot is thirty-eight hours,” the system warned him.

“Can you speed it up?”

“Not recommended. The main intrigue of the plot consists of the slow and gradual development of the relationship between the two main characters.”

Alex shook his head. He didn’t have that kind of time.

“Remember this plot and offer it next time I enter. And now, I want to exit completely.”

“Exit completely,” affirmed the system. “Thank you for visiting. I’m always happy to serve you. Please come again.”

A dense, heavy fog billowed all around.

Having taken off his headband, Alex looked at the crystal suspiciously. If Edgar was to be trusted, he was supposed to have gained the ability to love by now. And, to believe all the books, movies, and simply ordinary people, love was a feeling that flared up instantly and knew no boundaries, no limits.

But he hadn’t managed to feel any such emotions for the granny!

Only revulsion. Revulsion?

He started.

The crystal was designed especially for astronauts. Experienced psychologists had carefully constructed the simplistic, though highly diverse, plots.

As soon as he had entered the elevator with the granny inside, Alex was supposed to have taken her into his “sphere of responsibility.” The catastrophe, which plunged him into a stressful but genetically pre-programmed situation, would then heighten his sense of responsibility to the max.

Yes, he had a duty to… well, not to fall in love—pilots were incapable of love, so nothing like that could be foreseen—he had a duty to be overcome with warm feelings toward the old lady.

What was supposed to happen next, according to the program?

A soulful discussion?

A shy kiss?

A raging sex scene on the elevator floor?

A mutual enjoyment of the birthday cake?

Alex imagined the naked, happily giggling granny, stuffing a morsel of chocolate into his mouth, and himself, trembling with excitement, licking the sweet cream frosting off her sagging breasts…

“Holy shit!” he yelled.

That could have actually happened!

Really!

And he would have had no unpleasant feeling upon leaving virtuality. It would have been just a curious, intriguing adventure, approved by doctors and by the Church…

How could this be?

He wanted to gain the ability to love, but had he instead acquired the ability not to love?

Or maybe these were just two inseparably linked halves of a whole? Could it be impossible to understand love without the ability to reject?

Alex paced the length of his cabin, his arms wrapped around his shoulders, as he strained to grasp at least some of his feelings.

Yes, he had already broken one of the commandments of a pilot-spesh.

The main commandment, perhaps. The boundless responsibility for everyone who happened to be around. So Edgar’s remedy was working—blocking his altered consciousness. And that was really frightening… just to imagine pilots capable of abandoning their passengers and crew to the mercy of fate!

He thought of Kim, Janet, Lourier, Generalov, Morrison, C-the-Third, and the Zzygou.

Suppose something goes wrong now… the ship’s in danger… what would he do?

No! No way! He wouldn’t rush to save his own life. He was still ready to fight till the end for this ship, its passengers, and its crew! Everything was okay!

Except… what was this dreary restlessness, this cold emptiness inside?

As if an unfelt biochemical blow had cut off something that used to dwell in his soul…

Or… pulled away the mist that had concealed a bottomless abyss?

“Looks like I shouldn’t have drunk this shit,” said Alex rhetorically. Took a hurried look at the Demon, his most faithful adviser and companion.

The little devil stood, his head lowered, his arms spread out. It glowered at Alex sullenly from under its brows with the same inner torment Alex was feeling himself. He didn’t have to look at the Demon anymore—it no longer had anything new to tell him.

“But this isn’t love!” Alex vehemently shook his head. “It’s the wrong feeling! This can’t be it!”

“No, this isn’t love…” came a jeering whisper of something invisible, something that used to be dead to the world at the bottom of his soul. “This is the absence of love…”

“Then what kind of goddamn joy is this?” Memory obligingly supplied dry, scientific definitions of love, as if he were clutching at something in the past, something calm and stable. “A steady feeling, accompanied by emotions of gentleness and delight…”

Alex fell silent, controlling his breath. Stop. No need to get worked up. He had drunk the blocker of his own accord. He wanted to test it out to make sure it wouldn’t harm Kim. He wanted to try feeling what he had always been deprived of.

Was the reason he was experiencing all these unpleasant emotions precisely because of the absence of love? Fine—there were two women aboard, a young one and a middle-aged one. And, if push came to shove, there were also the Zzygou and Generalov! And finally, if worse came to worst, there was a crystal with virtual characters. He’d get that love thing, one way or another. And after the blocker’s action wore off, that foreign feeling would go away, and everything would return to normal, to the way it had always been.