Less Than Human
Authors: Maxine McArthur
Copyright © 2004 by Maxine McArthur
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Contents
ACCLAIM FOR MAXINE McARTHUR’S TIME FUTURE
CRITICALLY ACCLAIMED SCIENCE FICTIONfrom MAXINE MCARTHUR
TIME FUTURE
“McArthur has arrived on the SF scene … [with] a rich prose and objective eye on the intricacies of human nature.”
—Peter F. Hamilton, author of
The Reality Dysfunction
“Rich in detail …
Time Future
shows that Maxine McArthur has an astute mind, a ferocious sense of detail, and the capacity to become one of the world’s
most distinguished SF writers.”
—
Nova Express
magazine
“With considerable talent, McArthur blends a well-researched technological and cultural background with elements of mystery
and crime drama, and characters that leap visually off the pages all into a gripping experience.”
—fictionforest.com
“
Time Future
is fascinating and Ms. McArthurs aliens are truly not human.”
—sciencefiction.com
Time Past
Time Future
For Toshihiro and Junko
Writing is a solitary task, but research and rewriting are not. Without the help and generosity of the following people, this
book could not have been written.
Thanks first to my agents Tara Wynne and Russ Galen, and editors Jaime Levine and Devi Pillai. Also to Arts ACT and Arts Council
Australia, which funded my 2002 Asialink Literature Residency in Asia, during which the last third of the book was written.
The Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies at the Australian National University gave me a General Staff Development
Award to go to Japan on that residency. Dr. David Austin of the Robotics Systems Lab, Australian National University, patiently
answered my clumsy questions and gave us a tour of his lab. The WRiters On the Road group—Rowena Cory Lindquist, Marianne
de Pierres, Margo Lanagan, Tansy Rayner Roberts, Michael Barry, and Trent Jamieson—offered invaluable critical advice. Mitsuhiro
Hayashi gave me his opinion about small businesses in Japan, Ben Dorman suggested useful sources of information about Japan’s
New Religions, and Robert McArthur and Tristan Norman offered technical advice. I am, of course, solely responsible for any
errors that remain in the story.
Last but never least, many thanks to my family, both in Australia and in Japan.
T
he white building towered over the surrounding jumble of shops and dwellings like the prow of a huge ship. It was a Betta,
the multistoried residential complexes that were transforming the cityscapes of Japan. The size and cleanness of the Betta
set it apart from the corrosion black concrete, sagging wires and ad-lib extensions of the old town. Here, it declared, is
the future.
As if the sight of the Betta were not advertisement enough, vid panels on every street corner extolled the advantages of living
there. No more tiny apartment crowded with junk, burbled the vid, as cinematographically superb shots of the Betta interior
rolled past on the screens. Get rid of all those appliances. In the Betta, the world’s first totally integrated living environment,
everything is built-in. Streamlined rooms with robotic helpers and digitally controlled shopping, cooking, and cleaning will
simplify your day. You can relax in one of the rooftop gardens or browse through the internal shopping mall if you get sick
of ordering your groceries online. Buy your piece of comfort and security now, before interest rates rise!
The late-afternoon sun beat down on four teenagers hurrying past the now-unused train station and through the deserted streets
in the old town. The teenagers were students, by the look of their bright clothes and the phone implants glinting in their
hair. They carried bulging supermarket plas-bags. They bustled past the grimy doorways, along the neat concrete paths and
landscaped gardens surrounding the Betta, and entered the main building.
They must have been residents at the Betta, because the elevator doors in the main lobby read their microchips, opened for
them immediately, and took them up to the sixth floor. They whispered as they walked down the corridors, nudging one another
uneasily past the closed doors that contained families eating meals, children doing homework, mothers scolding babies, dying
grandmothers, and who knew what else, for Betta walls were soundproof; past a couple of cleanbots, like automated vacuum cleaners
humming along the corridor walls; past the wall holos showing peaceful summer scenery, until they reached their apartment
door. They tumbled in, and the door swished shut behind them.
“I’m worried.” The shorter of the two girls lifted her plas-bag onto the kitchen bench and looked anxiously at the others.
“Niniel-sama asked me why I had to visit home today. I felt so bad lying to him.” She wore a short, sleeveless dress made
out of squares of different pink fabric. As she was round and tiny, the effect was of an animated patchwork cushion.
“He asked all of us,” said the boy with a line of nose studs and bronze circles of tattoos on his cheeks. He was all knees
and ankles, as some boys were. “That’s why this weekend was such good timing. Bon holidays give us the perfect excuse.”
“What if they find out?” the short girl persisted.
The other girl, tall and narrow-hipped, began to unpack groceries. Her green-checked trousers and white shirt were wrinkled
and stained as though she didn’t worry about appearances. “Tomoko, if you don’t want to do it, go back.” She called out to
the other boy who was in the living room. “I didn’t think we’d be able to get in here. How did you float the ID so the system
listened to us, Dai?”
“Easy,” the boy named Dai called back. “I just told Iroelsama…”
“But he’ll tell Niniel!” wailed the short girl, Tomoko.
“No, he won’t. I said I wanted to take some things I’d left at my uncle’s place, but my uncle doesn’t approve of the Children,
so I had to get in while he’s away.”
“This isn’t really your uncle’s place, is it?” said the slim girl uneasily.
“No, of course not.” Dai chuckled. He was small and sturdy, with a round face that looked too large for his body. “The owner’s
on our movie chat group, and he told us he was going away. Used his e-mail addy as an alias, would you believe? I traced him
from that.”
The boy with the tattoos raised his hand solemnly. “Hey. Before we start—no matter what happens, we keep this secret, right?”
The girls nodded, and Dai said, “Right.”
“And it’s not like we’re doing anything wrong,” added the tall girl. “We’re just practicing early so that when we get to be
novices, we’ll be really good. Right, Tsuneo?”
The boy with the tattoos nodded, although his expression was uneasy.
They ate the noodles with absentminded haste, then gathered in front of the wide computer/vid screen in the living room. The
short girl passed around blue capsules, which they all swallowed.
The gawky boy with the studs and tattoos, Tsuneo, rummaged in a stylish backpack.
“Who’s going first?” He held up two spray cans.
“Do we have to do the paint?” the tall girl complained. She tugged at the neck of her T-shirt as though it was too tight,
then reached up and pulled off her hair, tossing the wig onto the sofa with a flourish. Her head was shaved smooth, except
for a gleaming phone implant.
“I thought we agreed,” said Dai. He was squatting in front of the computer panel in the riving room wall, attaching wires
to its external ports. “To get into the spirit of the thing.”
Tomoko giggled and snatched one of the paint cans. “I’ll go first. But you have to promise to go next, Dai.”
Dai shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” The slim girl watched Tomoko disappear into the bathroom.
“Lissa, it’s the stuff they use in the theater.”
Lissa pouted. “I want to have incense, too.”
“We didn’t bring any.”
“Why not?”
“Why do you always argue when you’re high?”
They grumbled at each other until Tomoko came out of the bathroom, carrying her pink dress and hiding her silver-painted body
behind a towel. Dai went next, then Tsuneo, then the tall girl Lissa. By that time they had abandoned the towels and were
all giggling at each other’s silver nakedness.
“Tomoko and I go first, like we decided.” The boy Dai, gleaming like a stocky gnome, knelt in front of the monitor and fitted
biometal attachments onto his fingertips.
“Is that what the novices use?” Wide-eyed, Lissa watched Tomoko do the same.
“They get permanent ones,” said Tsuneo.
Wires ran from the fingertip attachments to the wall computer and also to some hand computers they’d brought with them.
“Are you ready?” Tsuneo said, his hand on the start switch of one of the handcoms.
Little Tomoko coughed. “Can you turn the aircon colder, Tsuneo? I’m really hot.”
Lissa nodded. “Yeah, it’s making me breathless…” She pushed herself back on her heels, one hand to her throat.
Tsuneo clicked the air conditioner right down.
“Come on, you guys, let’s get going…” Dai clutched his chest midsentence. “What’s… wrong?”
“I haven’t started the program yet…” Tsuneo’s voice dissolved in paroxysms of coughing. He started to crawl to the kitchen
for water, but his breath ran out and he couldn’t find more. The last thing he heard was Lissa’s choking cry as she fell.
The last thing he thought was,
What did we do wrong?
To: E. McGuire, Mechatronics Research,
Tomita Electronics Co.
Sender: A
Subject: Re: catching up
Eleanor-san
I am glad that you found ray notes on artificial synapses interesting. I have been engaged in some private research on the
matter and believe that my “angle” is one that will provide scope for further development. I would like to discuss this personally
with you in the near future. You tell me that your current integrated systems project will be reviewed soon. Perhaps after
that? I can take leave and come to Osaka, so tell me when I should book the train.
E
leanor blanked her personal com screen with a frown. Akita’s requests for a meeting were getting hard to ignore. She hadn’t
seen him since he left the company, twelve years earlier, and that was how it should stay. He’d given her a couple of ideas
to use on her robot, but he’d always struck her as being a little too on edge, even in those days. The last thing she needed
now was to be distracted by personal relationships. Not now that she was close to results with the Sam project.
The robot Sam had four gangly metallic limbs, an almost nonexistent trunk, and an oversized, upside-down triangular head with
huge camera eyes. Multicolored wires twisted in and out of the limbs, and its battery pack gave it a hunch. But it stood by
itself and was learning to navigate. She wanted it to walk across the room and pick up a beaker from the bench. It should
recognize the bench on the far side of the lab from the perceptual map she’d helped it build over the past two years.