Pulling The Dragon's Tail (33 page)

Still it was a struggle for Nate to bite into
the ropes. He grew exasperated trying. Several times, a mighty
effort to telescope his neck forward just missed the thickly tied
ropes.

“You’ve got to try, old buddy.”

“Shut up!” said Nate hoarsely. With another
heave, and with Chad coordinating by swinging his hands backward,
Nate made contact.

“That’s it! You got ‘em! Tear into them!”

Nate pulled as hard as he could until his neck
muscles were about to pop. Then he let go.

“Hey they feel a bit looser. Try again!”

Taking some deep breaths, he reached for Chad’s
hands. Again he grabbed hold, and pulled mightily. A minute later
he had to rest again, mouth and jaw aching.

“I’ve got them free!” yelled Chad joyfully. He
tossed the rope down. Then he went to untie the ropes on his legs.
“Glad that damned Browning never was a Boy Scout or we’d be goners
for sure.”

Chad turned around and removed Nate’s gag.

Nate spat it out, hacking for a moment. “Untie
me!” he demanded.

Chad turned back and was busily trying to
override the controls. “Tell you what, Skip, I’m going to untie you
in a minute.” He looked out over the night sky and the mountains
below. The craft passed over the statue of Jesus a second time.
“Whoa! Were we that low the first time around?”

“You idiot! Isn’t it obvious?” screamed Nate.
“Herschel wants us both killed. He’s the serial killer! And here
you are trying to cash in on his murder spree! How much was my
friendship worth to you? Fifty thousand euros!”

Chad remained calm and eyed Nate carefully.
After all, he was still in control of the ‘copter. “Don’t think you
have any bargaining power, ‘ol buddy. By the way, thanks for those
good set of choppers. My compliments to your dentist. I’ve got the
only parachute as a back up, just in case I can’t stop the preset
program. But you were right ‘ol buddy about Browning.”

This time he stopped, turned around, and faced
Nate directly. “He did intend for us both to die with a gradually
descending flight path. According to the altimeter our next
approach will be our last,
your
last. Isn’t it interesting
that Jesus isn’t your savior anymore but in a funny, ironic way
you’ll get to meet him when you crash into the 500 thousand tons of
concrete bearing his unmistakable likeness?”

“I have only one thing to say to you,” grunted
Nate.

“Yeah!” grinned Chad.

“Nothing in the Eight Steps of CHOFA ever
advised me in such a situation like this.”

“So?”

“I’ll have to improvise.” With a mighty heave,
Nate broke the bonds that held his hands which he’d been gradually
loosening. He quickly reached for his feet, still bound.

“No!” yelled Chad. But instead of trying to hit
Nate, he reached beside Nate and under a console.

“Ah! That’s where it is,” yelled Nate. “I want
it!’

“The chute’s mine,” responded Chad.

Nate pushed his button on his wrist. “Dugan,
where are you?” Then he lunged for the chute but missed. “I should
have known you’d think of yourself first.”

Chad warned, “I don’t want to get into a tussle.
In this small craft, we might destabilize it.”

“After all your lies do you think you can pacify
me again?” scolded Nate. “I’ve trusted you far, far too long. And I
refuse to pay the ultimate price for my stupidity!”

Nate grabbed at the chute again, attempting to
wrestle it away from Chad. The small craft swung wildly in the
air.

Nate grabbed Chad’s neck and began choking him.
Chad relaxed his grip on the precious parachute. But before Nate
could snatch it, Chad regained his strength and whacked Nate in the
head with the parachute. The impact sent Nate’s head into the
window.

“Only three minutes before we crash!” hissed
Chad.

Nate rubbed his head and took a much needed
breather. “I’m ready to meet my Maker! Are you?”

Chad tried to punch him but missed. Nate tackled
him and wrestled him from behind. Chad elbowed him in the gut and
then spied a button on the front control console.

Nate saw what he was trying to do, and tried to
pull Chad away.

But it was too late.

Chad pushed the button. Nate quickly grabbed the
door handle on the left side of the ‘copter.

The opposite door swung open. The rushing air
pulled Nate part of the way out. He grabbed the back of the seat,
but his hand was slipping.

Chad saw his opportunity. He smashed Nate’s
finger tips with his foot.

Nate gasped in pain and let go.

Suddenly he was falling. At the last second, he
grabbed the edge of the open door.

Chad pushed the button again. This time the door
slammed shut, pinning Nate’s left hand in the door jamb.

Spying the running board in the air just below
him, Nate wrenched his left arm out of the door and simultaneously
grabbed the running board with his right hand.

A familiar voice sounded in Nate’s dataport.
“Skip! Listen to me!”

“Dugan?”

“At my count of three, open the door and
jump.”

“I’m already hanging outside for dear life!”

“In that case, Skip, on the count of three, just
let go.”

“You can’t be serious!” His left arm ached and
felt broken.

“There is no time to argue, Skip!”

“Why jump to my death?”

“There is a lake below, your only chance, a
window of five seconds.”

“How do you —?”

“Three, two, one, jump.”

And Nate did the most logical thing. He trusted
his CCR. He didn’t even have time to pray.

Es smiled sweetly from her bed in the fifth
story hospital room overlooking the thickly wooded hills of rural
West Virginia. “Welcome to Extropia. I’m so glad you’re here safe
and sound. It’s so wonderful to see you again, Nate, Campbell,
Thatcher, and Dugan.” She looked at each of them fondly as she said
their names.

Nate immediately sensed something was different
about Es. She lie unmoving on the bed. Her nutations, the constant
head movements, had completely ceased. And there was emotion in her
voice.

Likewise, Thatcher, Campbell and Nate were also
glad to be there. Moments after Nate jumped into the lake, the
helicopter crashed just as Herschel had planned it. Chad was
presumed dead. They reasoned that Herschel presumed that Nate was
also killed.

Two transhuman colleagues of Es, Pleth and
Davida assisted Dugan in locating and rescuing Nate from the lake.
After caring for Nate’s injuries-severe bruising on his arm and
fingers, Pleth and Davida transported them all to Extropia, the
world headquarters for the transhuman movement.

The transhuman (TH) movement was dedicated to
pushing the extreme integration of flesh and technology. This
overall philosophy, called extropianism, promoted the continuous
improvement of the human condition via human-induced evolution. The
hundred acres of the Extropia complex included a theme park,
research facility and the hospital where Es was currently a
patient.

Her bed rested at a forty-five degree angle,
with her body covered up to the neck. An oxygen tube ran into her
nostrils and an IV tube port was on her upper arm. Her
short-cropped dark brown hair hung wet from sweat and fever.

“Thank you for coming. But—” and Es’s face
contorted in pain, “—I feel the need to apologize for neglecting my
duties. If not for the heroism of Davida and Pleth, my
self-loathing would know no bounds. I am so sorry!” She choked back
a sob, sniffed hard and tried to continue. Looking at the CCR, she
said, “Oh, Dugan I so wish I could reach out and pet you.”

Thatcher shifted his position from one foot to
another. He stared at the transhuman. Es held her breath, appearing
to be ready to sneeze, but tears burst forth instead. Campbell
spied a box of tissues and dabbed one under Es’ eyes.

“Thank you. I am so embarrassed. It seems that a
side effect of the surgery has been mood lability. It has been
awful.”

Nate handed another tissue to Campbell, who
dabbed Es’s eyes once more. “Are you making up for lost time?” he
asked.

“I am recovering adequately. These tears are
only a side effect of the surgery and nothing more. However,” and
she sniffed again, “perhaps this time I went too far. During the
healing process I must give my body the optimal healing
opportunities to integrate the circuitry. I am immobile, and I do
not like that.”

“You’re paralyzed?” asked Campbell, feeling
curious about exactly what kind of surgery Es actually had.

“No, but it feels like I am. I’m very weak.
Maybe I should have listened to Dad.”

“Dad?” asked Campbell.

“How long will your recovery take?” interrupted
Dugan.

“The doctors say one to two weeks. I start
physical rehab in a few days. But I don’t know how much longer I
can hold out.” She closed her eyes, lips quivering. Deep sobs
rolled over her face. Campbell again wiped her tears. Thatcher and
Nate looked at each other, feeling both embarrassed for Es and
confused as to how such a powerful, self-assured person could be in
such a condition.

“Look. If we’re disturbing you,” offered
Campbell, “maybe we ought to go.”

“No, please stay! I don’t know what to do! I
have lost total control over my emotional circuitry. I’m sure I
will be demoted to a Phase Two Transhuman.”

“I’m sure these side effects will go away,”
soothed Campbell, “and your recovery will get you back to normal
again,” looking for support from the others.

“Sure,” offered Thatcher, “just hang in there.
So what exactly did they do?”

“I’m sure that you are all quite curious but
it’s not mysterious at all. I have had a full implant, only the
thirty-seventh one to be done; all of them here at this hospital.”
She began to sound like the Es they knew.

The others hesitated for a moment. Suddenly
Thatcher’s eyes flew open wide. He saw the sheet pulled up to her
neck, heard the term ‘full implant’, and blurted out, “A b-body
transplant?”

Nate made a mental picture of what that meant
and grew noticeably woozy. He breathed heavily and leaned against
the wall for support. He swallowed hard.
Would she go so far as
to transplant her head onto another body, perhaps a robotic one?
Was technology that advanced?
he wondered.

Es slowly turned her head to face Thatcher. Her
mouth opened wide and she let out a cackle. “You must think I have
been messing with your heads,” she said merrily. She roared some
more until tears came.

“Was it something I said?” asked Thatcher
innocently.

“Yes!” She smiled gleefully. “You thought full
transplant meant my head?”

Thatcher slowly nodded and made a slicing motion
across his neck.

“Thatcher Grady! You have just made my day!” And
she howled again.

“Glad to be of service to your mania, um, I
guess.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked at Campbell.
Oh,
well
, he thought,
it’s better than seeing her moaning and
wailing
.

“So, no one has, ah, messed with your head
then?” asked Nate.

She roared again in a spasm of laughter. ”Of
course not. That technology has not been perfected yet; not even
close to it. Full implant means a fully functional robotic heart
with artificial blood.”

“Oh! Is that all?” Thatcher teased.

“My goodness!” gushed Campbell.
“That’s…incredible!”

“For years I have been adding nanotech implants
into the bloodstream with the natural blood being replaced by
artificial blood and its components. The robotic heart is the final
step. Artificial blood has a much greater amount of oxygen and
immune system properties in it. All of this increases the
efficiency of my other robotic implants in the brain, and to my
bones and muscles.

“The robotic heart is titanium and will
supplement the functions of the artificial blood’s components. And
it is the crowning achievement.”

“I hope you took into consideration,” input
Nate, “that you might mess up what Dr. Hilliard put in place.”

Es replied, matter-of-factly, as always, “I was
assured it would not.”

“And how’d you determine that?” asked Nate.

“I took a calculated risk,” was all the
transhuman would say.

Campbell glanced at some medical papers nearby.
“I’m amazed that with the gift that you, Nate and the others have
been given, you still took that risk.”

“One thing you do not understand is that, for me
anyway—I cannot speak for the others—life is not to be lived
tentatively. Whether I live for a hundred more or and hundred
thousand more years, it does not matter as much as that I live it
fully. I am not in a contest to outlive the others in the Alpha
Group.”

All eyes turned to Nate. He grinned sheepishly
and added, “Well, I thought that whoever was the last to survive
would own Switzerland or something.”

Es smiled. “This attitude to live fully is at
the heart of transhumanism. Some may see it as foolishness, but it
is sort of a restlessness to see and do what is next, not to outdo
one another, but to promote the development of technology and
humanity’s growth.”

“I see.” Campbell was beginning to understand
more of the psychological underpinnings of both the transhuman
movement as well as the commonalities that the Alpha Group members
shared: grandiosity, adventure, restlessness, discontent with the
status quo, and obsessiveness. Then she realized that these must be
the same traits of her grandfather. And also, that they are the
traits that are exemplified in pioneers and explorers since the
early days of humanity. Her journey of discovery had uncovered part
of her grandfather’s true nature as she realized she was sharing
the company of two of his offspring.

“So tell me about Heaven on Earth,” Es asked
eagerly.