A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons (10 page)

“Your exam results were generally positive,” Bass said, without preamble.  “You made some mistakes, of course, but generally you fell well within the acceptable brackets for starship personnel.”

Yolanda stared at him.  “Really?”

“No, I’m lying because I’m a sadist,” Bass sneered.  He met her eyes.  “You passed.  Congratulations.  Now you have to decide about your future.”

He went on before she could say a word.  “You also fell into the brackets for intelligence work, probably on Earth,” he added.  “The SIA would probably be interested in recruiting you, if I forwarded them your file.  And then there’s the prospect of logistics.  It isn't particularly glamorous, but it does offer the chance to make a meaningful difference.  But the choice is yours.”

Yolanda hesitated.  She’d heard that before.

“If I insist on staying with my first choice,” she said carefully, “what would happen to me?”

“You’d go to the starship training complex and start work,” Bass informed her, shortly.  “If you passed all the tests, you would be a fully-qualified starship crewperson, ready to be assigned to a starship.  And, if you failed, there would probably still be jobs for you in the civilian sector.”

He gave her a thin smile.  “This isn't Earth,” he said, warningly.  “You get to reach the heights you can scale, through your own work.  We won’t force you to take training for a job you think you will hate.  All we ask is you show commitment to the job you wanted to earn.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Yolanda said.  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to qualify for starship duty.”

“What
I
mind doesn't matter,” Bass said.  He tapped the terminal in front of him.  “You have the ability to become a starship crewperson, therefore you will have the chance to qualify.  All we can offer you is that chance.  Good luck.”

He rose to his feet, then held out a hand.  “You will have a week’s shore leave, which you may spend anywhere within the Solar Union,” he added.  “After that, you will be expected to report back to Sparta for the next stage of your training. 
Failing
to show up will result in disciplinary action at the very least, Recruit Miguel.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Yolanda said.

“I will also give you a word of warning,” Bass said.  “You grew up on Earth, so you may find the Solar Union a little ... garish.  There will be much to astonish you, much to shock you, much to offend you ... and not everyone will have your best interests in mind.  Be careful what you say or do.”

He smirked.  “We had a woman from Earth throw an absolute fit because she visited an asteroid where everyone is legally obliged to carry a weapon at all times,” he said.  “She felt utterly unsafe just seeing everyone carrying weapons, even though she was never in any danger.  I don’t think she got any sympathy and you won’t either, if you do something similar.  It will look very bad on your record.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Yolanda said.  She hesitated, then leaned forward.  “Is it
safe
to carry a loaded weapon on an asteroid settlement?”

Bass shrugged.  “The general rules are simple,” he said.  “You can do whatever you like, as long as you don’t harm non-consenting persons or do anything with a strong chance of harming non-consenting persons.  Most settlements have strong rules against accidental discharges – I believe there was a person on Mars who was put outside the airlock for shooting at the dome protecting the settlement.  We do not feel inclined to tolerate fools.”

Yolanda nodded, then left the compartment.  Martin was waiting outside.

“They said you were in there,” he said.  He was grinning from ear to ear.  “I made it!”

“So did I,” Yolanda said.  She paused.  “You’d better stay in touch, you know.”

“I certainly will,” Martin said.  “Do you want to come on shore leave with me?  It isn't as if we have anyone else to go with, is it?”

“I ... yes, I think I will,” Yolanda said.  She hesitated.  Going anywhere alone with a boy would have been a terminally stupid idea on Earth.  “But separate rooms, if that’s all right with you.”

“It’s fine,” Martin said.  “I do understand.”

He smiled.  “Besides, this way I can bring a girl back to my room, if I find one.”

Yolanda grinned.  “You think you would?”

“Have you seen the adverts online?”  Martin asked.  “They do things I didn't even
know
were possible.”

“The datanet is not for porn,” Yolanda protested, although she was giggling too hard to sound properly stern.  “Is it?”

“The most popular sites are all pornographic,” Martin countered.  He held out a hand.  “Come on, please.  I don’t want to waste a moment of our time.”

Chapter Ten

Despite urgent shipments of viral counteragents from the United States, Europe and Japan, AIDS-VIII has claimed the lives of over ten thousand South Africans, mainly teenage boys and girls.  The spread of a mutated form of AIDS, according to doctors, was aided and abetted by contaminated medical equipment supplied by local manufacturers.  They have yet to rule out the possibility of terrorists being involved.

However, in a speech, the President of South Africa urged people to look to traditional cures, rather than modern medicine ...

-Solar News Network, Year 51

“You’re new here, aren't you?”

Martin looked up.  The small cafe had seemed a good place to sit down, after spending a week exploring Ceres.  It rested in the middle of a park, where children played without fear of being kidnapped, raped or accidentally gunned down by gangbangers fighting their enemies.  Part of him feared open spaces, but the rest of him found them welcoming, despite the lingering fear he was making himself a target.

“Yes,” he said, carefully. “And you are?”

“I'm a Denier,” the man said.  His voice was curiously flat, without even a hint of emotion.  “Can I convince you to join us?”

“I have no idea what a Denier actually
is
,” Martin said.  He’d seen no shortage of weird ideas in the week they’d spent on the asteroid, some of which had made absolutely no sense to him.  “What do you
do
?”

“Emotion is the great curse of mankind,” the man said.  He sat down facing Martin and nodded to him.  Up close, his face was curiously blank, as if he couldn't do more with his lips than talk.  “Just imagine how badly humanity messes up when emotion is involved.”

Martin frowned.  “They do?”

“Yes,” the man said.  “My name is Ninety-Seven.  It is a simple number, with no emotional resonance at all.  I have no emotions.  They were removed from my mind through brain surgery.  If I see a pretty girl, I feel nothing for her.”

“That sounds awful,” Martin commented.

“It is nothing of the sort,” Ninety-Seven insisted.  “When you see a pretty girl walking past, your eyes automatically turn to follow her buttocks as they sway invitingly.  You are distracted from greater things by thoughts of taking her to bed.  When you are kissing and cuddling with a girl and she says no further, your emotions push you to override her will and force yourself on her.”

“I have never forced myself on anyone in my life,” Martin said.

“But you could,” Ninety-Seven said.  “Your emotions might lead you to rape.  Or to do something else you would regret.  Anger, fear, hatred, disdain, contempt ... they are all emotions and they push humans into making mistakes.  Emotional reactions are dangerous and so we banish them from our bodies.  I feel nothing towards you, either positive or negative.  You may join us or you may not and I would still feel nothing.”

“It sounds like a bland life,” Martin said.  “You would never know the pleasure of success ...”

“Or the pain of failure,” Ninety-Seven pointed out.  “We would feel nothing, whatever happens.”

Martin looked up at the park.  The first time he had set foot on the asteroid, he had been disturbed at seeing the landscape curving up and around into the distance, as if they were walking on the inner side of a football.  Now, he was almost used to it, although he did keep his eyes lowered to the ground.  It was easier to tolerate, he suspected, if someone was born in such an environment.  But they might have similar problems on Earth.

“This place is fantastic,” he said.  “But you wouldn’t see that, would you?”

“We can appreciate what humanity has built,” Ninety-Seven said.

“But you wouldn't feel the urge to change anything either, if you grew up in the shit,” Martin said, after a moment.  He looked back at the emotionless man.  “You’d just ... accept it and move on.”

“Which is something humanity needs to learn,” Ninety-Seven said.  “How many problems would be left behind, powerless to harm us, if humanity just accepted them and moved on?”

He paused, then went on.  “Divorced from our emotions, we are safe from being led astray,” he added.  “You would not enjoy such freedoms.”

“But I also wouldn't enjoy the ability to be myself,” Martin said.  “I might as well be a robot.”

“You’d be free of your emotions,” Ninety-Seven said.  “That wouldn't make you a robot.”

“But it might as well,” Martin said.  “I
like
feeling things!”

Ninety-Seven leaned forward.  “Everything?”

Martin hesitated.  He recalled – he dwelled on it every night – the frustrations of growing up in the ghetto, of knowing that life was cheap and that a single false move could get him killed ... and that no one, really, would give a damn.  Perhaps it would be better to feel nothing, rather than fear and hatred ... and resentment, the resentment he now knew had been used as a tool to keep his people under control.  And yet, if he had felt nothing, would he have wanted to leave and made it happen?  Would he have befriended Yolanda if he hadn’t liked her on some level?

“I think emotions are what give us our drive,” he said, finally.  “The good ones reward us and the bad ones push us forward.”

“So you reject our offer to have your emotions surgically removed,” Ninety-Seven said.  “Do you know what I feel about that?”

“Nothing,” Martin said.

“Precisely,” Ninety-Seven said.  “I may not have the satisfaction of knowing I’ve made a convert, but I also lack the disappointment I might otherwise feel in you.”

He rose to his feet, then cocked his head slightly.  A contact code appeared in Martin’s implants, inviting him to visit their website or even send a message, if he wished to learn more about the Deniers.  Martin wasn't sure if they
were
deniers, in any conventional sense; they didn't
have
emotions, rather than just denying their existence.  It was almost as if he were denying being a woman.

“I’ll check out your website,” Martin said.  “But I make no promises.”

“I do not expect you to make any promises,” Ninety-Seven said.

He bowed, then retreated into the crowd.

Martin shook his head, then looked at the others as they walked past.  Most of them were human, although he’d had to check his implants a few times, as they didn't
look
human, sporting green or blue skin purely for amusement.  Others were definitely
alien
, looking thoroughly out of place even in the Solar Union.  Martin had felt a chill running down his spine the first time he’d seen an alien, something utterly inhuman.  Now, he rather thought he was used to seeing them.

The asteroid perplexed, amused and bothered him in equal measure.  There was no suspicion, no fearful glances from one person to answer; the residents
trusted
each other, even though it would have been suicidal, on Earth, to trust anyone outside the family.  They didn't fear being raped, or having their children snatched off the streets, or even forced to pay bribes to the local police force merely to avoid being arrested.  The children playing in the park were largely unsupervised and yet they were fine.  They seemed to get along fine despite possessing all the colours of the rainbow, or wearing clothes that ranged from the enveloping to the sparse.  No one would have dressed their children like that on Earth.

And yet ... the kids had a zest for life he could only envy.

So did their parents, he suspected, and the rest of the asteroid’s population.  There was no fear; instead, there was a determination to be themselves, to live and grow and build a community that actually worked.  The more he looked at it, the more he envied the children the opportunities they were handed on a platter.  They would never face discrimination based on anything, but ability.  And even the less able would not be forced into jobs they couldn't handle, purely to meet some recruitment quota ...

He smiled as Yolanda sat down next to him, wearing a long white dress that set off her dark hair nicely.

She smiled back.  “Penny for your thoughts?”

“If I ever have children,” Martin said, “I’m going to raise them here.”

“You were certainly practicing last night,” Yolanda said.  “I hope you were careful.”

Martin felt his cheeks heat.  Last night, he’d picked up a girl in a bar and taken her back to the hotel room, where they’d spent hours just making love.  And, the following morning, she’d kissed him on the cheek and then walked off, without even leaving him her contact code.  He wasn't sure if that was a tacit statement he was awful in bed or a reflection of her desire to have fun, but avoid entanglements.  She’d certainly not acted as if she was interested in anything he had above the waist.

“The nanotech sees to contraception,” he said, embarrassed.  “There was no risk of getting her pregnant.”

“Good,” Yolanda said.  She tapped the terminal on the desk, ordering a drink.  A moment later, a robotic waiter appeared, carrying a large glass of coke.  “You probably would have to pay child support here, if you got someone pregnant.”

Martin sighed.  There had been thousands of horror stories told at school, each one designed to suggest that having a child could ruin your life.  In hindsight, he couldn't help wondering if they’d been designed to further cripple the community or merely to dehumanise girls and children ... or to prevent the young men from finding proper jobs.  Legal jobs might come with all sorts of legally-mandated benefits, from health care to insurance, but they also automatically took money from their workers’ salaries to pay for taxes, child support and legal penalties.  And then people wondered why the underground economy grew far faster than the legal one.

“I think I would have to make the decision to have a child,” he said, slowly.  “The technology is freeing, isn’t it?”

“It can be,” Yolanda agreed.  “Back home ... one of my stepsisters caught something very nasty from a guy.  It was ... somehow, it was my fault.”

Martin blinked.  “How the
fuck
was is your fault?”

“I have no idea,” Yolanda said.  “But she had to go to the doctor and my stepmother was a right pain about it for weeks.  Not that she took it out on the silly bitch, of course.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Martin advised. 

He waved a hand to indicate their surroundings.  “The kids here are happy, free, safe and have thousands of opportunities,” he continued.  “Why would I
not
want my children to grow up here?”

“I can't think of a good reason,” Yolanda said.  “They’d just have to be careful what they signed.”

Martin nodded.  That was the downside of the Solar Union, the automatic assumption that adults could handle their own affairs.  Which was, he supposed, better than presuming someone incompetent out of hand, but it still caused problems.  Signing the wrong document could have all kinds of legal repercussions.  The courts didn't seem inclined to assume that someone didn't read the whole document when they damn well should have done before they signed it.  Throwing out a contract seemed to happen very rarely – and only when one party broke the handful of legal protections signed into law.

“Or ate,” he added.  On Earth, there were strict laws concerning what food could legally be fed to children.  There were no such laws in the Solar Union, although they were hardly necessary.  Nanotech could ensure that children could eat anything – and that they could avoid allergies and other issues that tended to cause legal problems elsewhere.  “Or quite a few other issues.”

He smiled at her, then sighed.  “Where do you want to go for our last night of freedom?”

Yolanda sighed.  There was no way to avoid the fact that they would be going to different sections of Sparta when they returned, Yolanda to starship training and Martin to the Solar Marine Boot Camp.  They would exchange messages, of course, but it wouldn't be the same.