Ramez Naam - Crux

They were silent for a moment.

“It’s like,” Jake started, haltingly, “the big picture, OK? It’s like the next step in our evolution. Going from one mind, to many minds, all linked… Group consciousness. That we’re just parts of. That’s the real posthuman.”

Sam looked into the middle distance. She loved these kids, but she wasn’t sure what she thought of that.

“There was this woman,” Jake said, “this PhD in the states, who used to write about this all the time. Her dissertation was about how we’re already group minds, how we’ve been evolving in that direction already – from animal cries to language to writing to the internet, and now Nexus. How it’s collective thinking makes us special. Ilyana Alexander.”

Sam stiffened. Ilya.

Jake noticed it. “You know her?”

“I’ve heard the name,” Sam said. She kept her voice neutral, let her muscles loosen again.

It seemed to satisfy Jake. He placed a hand on hers on his chest, gently stroking it. “She was arrested, they say. They say she’s one of the people who built Nexus 5. And she’s locked up, with no parole, no trial… For building this .” His thoughts took in her, him, the children, their potential.

“And these kids? In the US? The President invoked the fucking Chandler Act, Sunee. By law these kids aren’t even human in the States.” Jake sighed in frustration. “It’s a fucked-up world.”

Sam nodded, her thoughts far away. “It’s a fucked-up world,” she agreed.

Later, when Jake had fallen asleep, Sam lay awake, and opened herself, and felt the minds of the children, dreaming and breathing in unison. So very human, to her. And maybe more.

Nine minds that dreamt as one... She’d felt something like that, in Bangkok, in that loft, when she’d felt like she was part of the Buddha. She’d felt it that night, when she and Kade had fallen asleep together, had dreamt each other’s dreams. She’d felt it with Ananda’s monks, meditating as one mind.

But all of those had been temporary, fragile states. These children… they did it naturally, automatically. Was it really possible to become part of something larger? For minds to meld together for more than just fleeting moments?

The idea terrified her at some level. These were posthumans. Everything in her life had trained her to fear this. They’d sweep across the globe, outcompeting humans, enslaving them, driving her own species to extinction. The enemy, she would have called them a few months ago. An existential risk. Monstrosities.

But the reality… when she felt these children, when they played or cried or fought, or when their minds flowed together and embraced her into that whole...

Then something softened inside her, and she thought the future might not be so bad after all.

October was hot beyond all reason. The heat got to everyone. The children were more short-tempered, bickering with each other. Khun Mae was stricter and more prone to snap than ever. Even Jake seemed on a shorter fuse.

Sam brought in a harvest the second week of the month, while Jake made a run to get supplies from a friendly store three villages away. In the afternoon she sat and meditated with the children, guiding them through anapana and vipassana, the techniques of observing the mind itself, of quieting it. They struggled at first, their minds chaotic and pulled a dozen ways. But once they sat and brought their minds together, they fell into the unity she’d felt with Ananda’s monks, so readily, naturally, and deeply. It lifted her to some egoless state herself.

Nine children. One mind.

In the early evening she taught them English, sitting together in a circle, minds linked as they spoke the words that should have seemed strange, but which came off their tongues so smoothly. Jake’s comments echoed in her mind. They did learn so very quickly, each of them learning for every other.

Jake returned after nightfall, the pickup truck laden with supplies. They did chores with Khun Mae and the two other women, fed the children, put them to bed, and unloaded the truck.

Afterwards, they washed off the sweat and heat of the day in the small pond. The water was low from the drought, but there was enough to splash around in, to submerge themselves in. They emerged from the pond naked and pleasantly cool, and lay on the grass, hidden from the house by the copse of trees, bathed in the light of the full moon.

Sam put her head on his chest and stared up the stars. It was so peaceful here. So different from the life she’d known.

I should let him touch me, Sam thought. Let him feel my mind. Let him know who I am.

The thought frightened her. At first she’d kept herself sealed off from him as a security precaution. But now… Now she trusted him. So why hold back? Because she wasn’t sure how he’d respond if he really knew her… If he knew the things she’d done. The blood on her hands.

Maybe tomorrow , she told herself.

“Who are you, Sunee?” he asked.

She snorted, amused at the synchronicity.

“What, I don’t get to know?” Jake asked, mock offended. “You think I can’t figure it out?”

His fingers found her clavicle, the long line where she’d been cut open, years ago. “You have this scar,” he said, gently. “And these here…” His hand traveled down her belly, to the circular pock marks bullets had left long ago. “And you’re stronger than I am. A lot stronger.”

She rolled to look at him, her face a mask.

“And the kids… They don’t call you Sunee. They call you Sam. Who’s Sam, Sunee?”

She came up to her knees.

Not tonight, she decided. Maybe tomorrow.

“Who do you think I am?” she asked him, a smile on her face.

He grinned. “I think you’re a spy ,” he said, conspiratorially, a hint of humor in voice and mind. “You’re a secret agent .”

She smiled and put a leg over him, straddling his chest. His eyes roamed over her breasts and stomach, still wet from the pond, gleaming in the moonlight, and he made a low growl of approval deep inside. She could feel his desire for her rising in his mind.

“Who are you, really?” he asked, his hands coming to her thighs, moving up to her hips and waist, gripping her hungrily. “Who did you work for? How did you get those scars? What’s your name? ”

Sam lifted up off his chest, an impish grin on her lips, and moved herself forward until her hips obscured the lower half of his face.

“Why don’t you do something more useful with that mouth?” she said lightly, as she slowly lowered herself. “Then maybe I’ll tell you.”

Jake laughed.

And then he did exactly as she asked.

It was a good life. A peaceful life. She couldn’t ever remember being this happy.

9

CONSEQUENCES

Thursday October 18th

Martin Holtzmann woke with a gasp. An alarm was blaring. His skin felt clammy, drenched in sweat. The world was spinning. The room was on its side. His face was pressed up against something.

Where am I?

Then he remembered. The wave of pleasure. The opiate surge from his brain… The Nexus theft from his lab.

He groaned as it came together.

He was on the floor. He pushed himself up to one knee. The world spun more vigorously, then started to go gray. Holtzmann barely caught himself against the desk in time.

He waited there for a moment as the blood returned to his brain and the world stabilized ever so slightly. He felt starved for air and forced himself to breathe. He put a finger to his wrist and found his pulse faint and slow.

The finger on his wrist was blue from lack of oxygen.

I overdosed, he realized. I could have died.

The alarm was still blaring. There was a voice over it.