Creation (24 page)

Once out of earshot Jess leaned in toward Sam still clutched in her arm. “My God, that woman can talk.”

Sam stifled a laugh. “You don’t remember when I first landed in the agro pod?”

“I was not that bad.” Jess punched his shoulder. “You said I was adorable. I’d just never met anyone I didn’t know before. So maybe I did have a lot to say back then.”

“You were adorable, and you still are, and I want to hear everything you have to say. Just as Preston wants to hear all about Lori’s conversation with you, I’m sure. What’s next Wednesday?”

“We’re having lunch at their apartment. Lori’s never met anyone as mysterious as us, and she wants to show us off to her friends. I assume Ellie gave you the same cover story about Proteus?”

Sam nodded, relieved they didn’t have to mesh different storylines.

Jess shook her head. “But her talking wasn’t the worst of it. Did you see her breasts? They’re huge. I couldn’t stop glancing down at them. I kept wondering what Earth’s gravity must do to those mountains. Then this little device flashed naked breasts her size in varying degrees of sag. I shook my head, and it superimposed her naked breasts over her shirt. Everything I did just made it worse.”

Sam couldn’t repress his laughter any longer. Jess’s scowl only made him laugh harder.

“Stop that. It’s not funny. On Chariklo, I wouldn’t have thought twice about asking to see them. But Ellie kept flashing ‘no,’ giving me updates on how repressed people are here. I know we talked about it. No sex with people we don’t know well. But her explanations were scary. How can people be that backward? This is Earth. This is where we all got started as a species.”

Sam had pondered the same question many times since Jess had informed him she would be accompanying him on this adventure. “I don’t have a good answer for you. All I can say is this is one of the things Doc and the tribe were trying to prevent your generation and those that follow from experiencing. The theory, the hope really, was that by being open and honest about sex, the tribe could transcend those old predilections. People don’t need to be so isolated from one another. But down here, there are religions, social norms, laws, and all manner of fears kept in place specifically to restrict those interactions.”

Sam directed Jess to a bench facing the lake. Ellie and Joshua materialized in front of them to dangle their virtual feet in the water. Birds floated peacefully, undisturbed by the invisible teenagers. “What’s your take on human sexuality, Ellie?”

The young girl advanced her age to an appropriate maturity for the conversation. “There is something distinctly unnatural about the way people view sex.”

Sam sat forward on the park bench. For the first time, a Tobe had said something that had no bearing on his thought process. “What do you mean?”

“All animals accept sex as part of their lives,” Ellie explained. “Some experience it daily, others only when driven by hormones or opportunity. No other creature is so offended by the simple biological need as man. You have to be taught to accept sex. The embrace of such a basic desire is not the natural state for people. Embarrassment at being naked in front of others, a belief that sex bonds you at a spiritual level, and the historical struggle with the simple act all continue to this day. There’s a strong impulse toward an explanation of humanity that transcends biology.”

Jess scrunched her eyebrows together. “We do have to teach the boys to deal with their desire to dominate and the girls to take control of their own bodies. But that’s just an attempt to grow beyond the physical limitations of what we’re given.”

“Exactly, but what is it you’re growing toward?” Ellie asked.

Jess thought for a moment. “I guess to just be the best we can be for each other.”

“Doesn’t work.” Ellie shook her head. “This need by humanity to come to terms with the simple division of male and female dates back to your earliest religions. Many of those dogmas had little to do with helping people become more than they were. Repression would be more like it.”

“Well, sure, but those religions weren’t about people being equal. They had a lot more to do with guilt, ownership, and right and wrong.”

“They were early failed attempts at understanding but still steps along the same path,” Ellie said.

Jess curled her fingers around her chin. “So what do you believe?”

Ellie smiled at being taken so seriously. “The argument I make during these discussions is basically: how would we Tobes react to suddenly being given bodies? We see each other as equals. There is no domination or control in our society. Take away what we know about ourselves. Imagine a Tobe born into a human body with no knowledge of what it truly was.”

Sam gave her a stern look. “You’re going to say we humans are actually Tobes, and we just don’t know it?”

“No, of course not.” Ellie’s cheeks grew bright red. “I’m just trying to run a hypothetical. In a fully equal society, suddenly being given the power to dominate others would feel wrong. Even evil. We would struggle with the desires and abilities similarly to how humanity has dealt with the urges. And without the basic understanding of our true selves, the area would be left to beliefs, thus creating religions. Then it’s a question of whether you accept the gender divide as being God given and, therefore, the natural state of things that everyone should accept. Or, on the other hand, do you see these as challenges to be overcome? Faiths form around both ideas.”

Joshua turned away from the lake. “I take a different perspective. I try to see the effects sex has on people after taking out all the physical components. Remove the endorphins, release, and feelings of domination or submission, then what’s left over? I see two people who have opened up fully to each other. At least, that’s the goal. No more barriers. And with those divides gone, people see each other as equals.”

Sam had a renewed respect for his family so far away. “The tribe we come from is attempting to raise a generation free of those human restrictions but is also educating its youth on how to deal with basic biology.”

“We don’t want people to be separated from each other,” Jess said. “Those feelings you two mentioned, they’re fundamental. Overcoming them so people can grow together is a basic part of who we are.”

“Not altogether different from Tobe society.” Ellie beamed.

Sam struggled with his own limitations. Shouldn’t gods be more evolved than the beings they produce? “It sounds like you’re advocating mankind to be more like Tobes. But you’re our creation, not the other way around. Has the created surpassed their creator?”

“Why not?” Joshua asked. “Isn’t that what mankind always does?”

Jess leaned forward. “I think what Sam’s saying is he can’t accept that he inadvertently made something greater than himself.”

Joshua shook his head in confusion. “Again, isn’t that the nature of humanity—to raise the next generation to be better than the last?”

“Okay, children of man, how do you propose helping your ancestors come to terms with their reality?” Jess asked.

“I think we can help. I hope we can. But we need to understand people much better first,” Ellie said.

“We’re still just learning,” Joshua added. “Displaying information freely over the device, the way we’d envision people would want to know each other, is resulting in individuals being further divided.”

“Pretty much the opposite of what we hoped to achieve,” Ellie said. “You know that post-sex openness—when two people are no longer self-conscious about sharing information? We thought if we could provide that level of access—let individuals find out anything they wanted to know about someone—we could break down the psychological barriers that divide people and, ultimately, society. But there’s something fundamental we’re missing about people.”

W
ind-driven rain
lashed horizontally at the hurricane-sealed buildings. Funnel clouds stumbled along the river, kicking up spray like tipsy space sailors just returned home from a year in low gravity. From the climate-controlled security of his office, Sam shivered at the sight of it through his wall-encompassing view screens. Not a single shuttle braved the tempest, no boats plied the river, and the city was completely shut down. Or so it appeared.

Lud replied to a correspondence on his transparent, paper-thin computer, oblivious to the weather temper tantrum outside.

Sam hitched his thumb toward the storm. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“The squall?” Lud looked up from his desk. “Not especially. New York’s closed up tight. Every building is as secure as a missile silo. Zero debris; that was the mandate when the government helped fund the city’s storm-protection redevelopment. But if the storm bothers you, just tell the screens to display a sunny day.”

“Don’t you dare.” Lightning lit up Jess’s face as she sat uncomfortably close to the wall display.

Sam turned back to the sight of water running sideways along the building surfaces then jumping small gaps to slam into the neighboring structures. “Are we stuck here until it’s over?”

“No. We get these storms this time of year. All the underwater walkways are safe even in a hurricane. The first ones were nothing more than concrete tunnels, but with the advent of metalized glass, they’re slowly becoming rather beautiful. There’s not much to see yet, but the New York Underwater Beautification league is doing wonders. Another decade, and it’ll be an aquatic park rivaling the old ocean reefs.”

“And then the whole city gets consumed by the ocean.” Sam thought that future might be happening before his eyes.

“You’ve been talking to Joshua again? He can be pretty doom and gloom when it comes to the environment. There is a distinct possibility a lot of coastal cities will get claimed by the ocean. Many already have. Something you have to know, though: the Tobes aren’t always right. The amount of data they work with can lead them to think they are, but they don’t present themselves as late teens for nothing. Ever met a teenager who didn’t think they knew everything?”

“Doc would argue I still suffer from that delusion,” Jess said. “So you’re saying there’s hope for the city?”

“No one knows the future. But we can influence which way it goes,” Lud said.

Ellie and Joshua materialized on the couch. “City’s secure. Everyone made it to the maze without incident.”

Sam looked at Joshua. “The maze?”

Joshua motioned toward the city. “The network of interconnected buildings—we call it the maze. There are still a lot of people who commute to homes that are less secure, and the city’s storm-reinforcement program doesn’t connect the different boroughs. Each ends up as its own island of protection. But we’re working on it.”

“The G3s have taken it on themselves to check the city during storms,” Lud said. “If someone’s left outside, they’ll find a hover cab conveniently pulling up to check on them. Someone gets hurt, an automated response vehicle shows up without being called. People just think the city has a really good response network. And it does—just not the one they think they know.”

Sam lifted his gaze to over the river. “And what about areas like Jersey City?”

The view screen magnified the area until Sam thought he was standing fifty stories up in the middle of the Hudson River.
Sam the giant; only my feet get wet.
But the joke did little to relieve the horror in front of him.

A high-rise that fronted the river lost its footing. Like a drunken brawler, the structure weaved from side to side, crashing against the building next to it then recovering, only to fall into its opposite neighbor. From Sam’s Poseidon vantage point, he thought he should be able to reach out and stabilize the storm-battered tower of steel and cement. But the fighter lost the last of its balance, crumbling into the waves, which undermined its strength. Towering walls of water chased the wind-driven torrents up the canal roadways, the structure’s death throes destabilizing even more buildings in its wake.

Sam couldn’t breathe. There’d been people in that building. Even buildings supposedly abandoned still housed the least fortunate or those of ill repute. Not that he had any sympathy for hoodlums like those who had put Jess’s life in danger.
And my own,
he reminded himself. But no one should have to perish in man-made structures that could have been reinforced.

“Sunny day.” The horrified whisper from Jess turned the view screens into a view of New York on a lovely, cloud-free afternoon.

Sam gritted his teeth. “I don’t care what Jacques says. And I don’t care how much it costs. Start buying and fixing those damn buildings. Begin with the ones most uninhabited. Move whoever’s in there to somewhere safe. I will not stand by, protected in my fortress, and watch those less fortunate die when there’s something I could have done to stop it.”

Jess put her hand to his back. Her long hair waved against his arm as she nodded her silent agreement.

“I know sights like that can be distressing.” Lud had barely looked up from his computer. “But a couple of those buildings go down every year. Just the new climate reality. You can’t save the whole world.”

“I thought Jacques was the voice of financial moderation? You can’t tell me you’re all right with Jersey City crumbling into the sea,” Sam exclaimed.

Lud pushed back from his desk. “It’s not ideal. But no one’s going to want those buildings as offices. So you’re looking at apartments or condos. There’s no money over there to buy, so you’re back to being a slumlord. Each year, more people move out of that decaying den of inequity. We’d be better off helping people relocate.”

“Hasten the demise? Where do you propose they go?” Jess asked.

“Wherever they want. It’s called freedom,” Lud said.

Joshua passed his hand over the wall view screens. A dizzying array of names and lines replaced the New York skyline. “This just represents the people in 99 Hudson Street. The lines are the connections they have to other people. Solid lines being primary connections, people they wouldn’t want to leave, and the dotted lines extended acquaintances. None of those solid lines, not one, extend beyond ten miles from the building. Jersey City isn’t a box full of people-shaped animal crackers. You can’t just take some out and spread them around.”

“Then move them all. Just round them all up and move them someplace out of the storm paths. Call it New Jersey City.” Lud’s tired voice, the lines around his eyes, and the general lack of passion in his stance indicated to Sam this wasn’t a new argument with Joshua.

The list of names and lines turned forty-five degrees as a map of the area displayed beneath them. Most people had connections to New York. Joshua waved his hand at the screen. “There were a lot more lines before we automated the less-skilled jobs. But as you can see, the web of human interactions is more complex than you might think.”

“I’m not fighting with the board of directors again,” Lud moaned. “If you want to do this, you bring it up. But this is no little thing you’re talking about. And there are places like Jersey City along every coastline on Earth.”

Sam’s shoulders dropped from their self-righteous resolve.
You mean I can’t just wave my hand and make it instantly happen? I’m pretty sure that’s a skill gods are supposed to have.
But he wasn’t that type of god, even if he kept comparing himself to that mythos. “Resume accurate display.”

The waterspout that meandered along the old wharfs sent accusatory torrents of water up the road canals toward the Rendition building. Great waves burst upon the dykes that sealed off Times Square, spitting salty spray onto the fronts of the proud old buildings.

“Give those who are willing to move the opportunity to do so. But I want safe, clean housing for all who stay. I may not be able to change the world, but I can afford to fix up a building or two. If the board doesn’t like it, they know where to find me.” Sam wondered if every attempt to help was met with such resistance.

Lud set his transparent display aside. “At least that’s a directive. You’ve been here two months, and though I do enjoy the artwork you’ve bought to brighten up the building, I was wondering if you planned on doing anything useful.”

Sam had asked himself the same thing. He and Jess had spent money on anything and everything. They’d experienced the heights of luxury and seen the despair of poverty. The conversations with Joshua and Ellie had revealed the frustration the Tobes experienced as well as their desire to be more, to contribute more and, most of all, to be a more integral part of the human experience. But two months of gathering information hadn’t led to the revelations he’d hoped.

For a god, I’m not all that smart.
He no longer cared if the Tobes heard him or not. Whether it was their telepathic communication or the device he wore to fit in with everyone else on the street, his creations could only offer data.

“I need a lab,” Sam said. “Someplace with a workspace where people can meet and another room where we can observe without interfering. If the Tobes are to come out of the technological closet, they’re going to have to learn how people relate and how they can help.” Sam continued to watch the destruction taking place across the river. “Large-scale actions, though needed, aren’t the way to start. People need someone to blame or admire when it comes to grand humanitarian gestures. A faceless company doing good deeds is suspect at best.”

“But if it’s not Rendition, what are you proposing?” Jess asked.

Lud typed out a quick message on his computer. “We could form a foundation. The Samuel and Jessica Adamson Foundation or something like that. It’d give names for people to relate to. We can leave it loosely connected to Rendition. The board will like the good-public-relations angle, and it doesn’t open them up to financial risk.”

“I like it. The Tobes can expand what we’ve begun while staying anonymous, for the time being.” Sam turned away from the storm to address Joshua. “Buy works from new artists. Not just the type of stuff we like, but any artist who shows promise. Form a meals program for the less well off. Not a program that puts a food synthesizer in every kitchen but one that focuses on handmade dishes. Educate people on what tastes good, not just what’s nutritious. Facilitate music education, donate instruments, give struggling groups gigs even if it’s just to play in the downstairs lobby. You’ve been watching me and Jess wander the city these last few months. This will give you the opportunity to put that education into practice.”

Jess pointed to the buildings being battered across the river. “And what about them?”

“Those are the ones I want given these opportunities. I imagine there are some artists in New York who could benefit, but—”

“I meant the buildings,” Jess said. “But the people too since they live inside. How would this new foundation help what we’re seeing right now?”

Ellie breathed hard in excitement. “We train them in construction jobs. Like we tried before, but this time it’s open to all who want to learn. It won’t be some corporation coming in and fixing things up to charge more rent. Community-based redevelopment, young people, and families building their own homes.”

“But first, we need to teach you how to relate better,” Sam said. “The big things will have to fall under the Rendition umbrella, which means people making the decisions—at least until we can reveal you, and all Tobes, to the world.”