ROMULUS (The Innerworld Affairs Series, Book 1) (9 page)

There was one other person he needed to find, too. Although he hadn't seen José, he assumed his associate was nearby and hoped he would not be too hard to locate. As annoying as José was at times, Victor couldn't just leave his amigo behind.

* * *

Doctor Xerpa's fingers danced over the icons, keys and dials on the control panel. From her position on the raised platform, she observed her technician and the Outerworld patient, José, immobile on the aluminum bed. Large metal clamps held him and all hair had been removed from his head and face, making his rolling eyeballs appear even wilder. His mouth had been taped to shut off the constant stream of obscenities.

Her attempts to converse with him had failed, in spite of her using his own dialect, and she felt that the Board's decision to fully reprogram this one was justified. He was more animal than human.

Doctor Xerpa had been in medical school a century ago when this method of conversion was used on any new arrival who showed the slightest reluctance to behave in a civilized manner. Now the drastic measure was only approved for the most incorrigible cases.

The tech opened a drawer located in the pedestal workstation next to the man's head. Selecting a small needle with a green bubble on one end, he smoothly inserted it behind the man's left ear. José's eyelids drooped a second later. While the green liquid dripped from the bubble, the technician made several adjustments on the viewing screen until it clearly displayed the patient's brain.

As the doctor stepped down from her station, the tech removed the tape from the man's mouth then turned to her. "The patient has reached the necessary level of unconsciousness, Doctor Xerpa. Everything is ready for you."

Xerpa immediately replaced him at José's head and chose twelve six-inch needles from the rows of implements. She connected each needle to a different colored wire. Instantly, the tips flared brightly.

With steady hands, she expertly punctured the bald head with the first needle, effortlessly pressing the white-hot point through the skull. She stared intently at the screen as she concentrated on the needle's route deep into the brain. Only when she was satisfied that it had reached the precise target did she release her firm hold and switch off the light in that needle. She carefully repeated the process eleven more times in separate areas of the brain before she relaxed.

"You are truly an artist, Doctor," the technician offered with an unmistakable note of awe in his voice. "I've never had the privilege of observing a stage three before. Plenty of ones and twos, but not a three."

Stage one proved very effective in correcting minor personality deviations and neuroses without seriously interfering with intelligence or memory. The more powerful stage two eliminated certain negative memories found to be at the root of a person's antisocial behavior. But Xerpa knew that one of the unfortunate side effects with stage two was irreparable damage to the subject's innate intelligence.

Doctor Xerpa invited the tech to observe the final steps of the conversion process. He happily followed her back to the control panel as she briefly described the data that would soon be streaming into the man's brain.

"A completely new identity has been developed for this man, including a history of his life to date. Though small pieces of memory are taken away in stage two, in this procedure, all existing thought is wiped out and replaced with the personality and memory we have created for him. When he awakens, he will have no recollection of his former life. This reprogrammed man will step into our world believing he was born here, ready to take his place as a productive citizen in our society."

"What are the Board's plans for the other one?"

"You know the Board members were all hand-picked by the governor and most of them share her liberal sympathies about the rights of the transplanted Outerworlders. In spite of the evidence, they hesitated in making the decision to reprogram this man. They were even more reluctant to use this procedure on the other man as he possesses an unusually high level of intelligence. Therefore, they have decided to discount his criminal background and violent tendencies. We will be working with him using stage one and counseling. If he cannot be rehabilitated with a few sessions, the Board will reconsider their recommendation. If he responds positively, he will be given the opportunity to enter our society. At any rate, we'll know by the end of the week."

Doctor Xerpa touched a button then stood back. The only visual proof that something was happening to the body on the table was a spastic twitching of the fingers and toes. Five minutes later, it ceased.

After removing the needles from José's skull, she gave her tech a final instruction. "Call the cosmetic surgeon. The patient is ready for him."

Chapter 5

After everything they'd been told and witnessed in the last hour, the top floor of the five-story Administration Building provided a much needed dose of simplicity for Aster. The large room had pale yellow walls and was minimally furnished with several rows of neatly made-up cots with yellow, green and blue plaid blankets. Each cot had a small nightstand and lamp on one side.

But it was the scene outside one of the many windows that captivated her attention. How could it be sundown if they were in the center of the Earth? A lovely garden filled with flowers fronted the building. Tiny twinkling lights illuminated the trees and lilac bushes that lined the walkway leading to a street. A fiery orange sun with a surrounding white ring had begun to set on the horizon of a lavender-blue sky.

Oona joined her and explained that the plants were from all over the universe and that the sun and sky had been simulated to help the transplanted Noronians feel at home. She added that the design of the buildings and the layout of the city of Car-Tem emulated the great cities of their home planet as well.

Aster watched the sun's last rays create iridescent rainbows on the nearby buildings, which appeared to be constructed of clusters of crystal prisms. Across the street a group of children were playing. One boy threw a ball into the air and the others aimed lights at it. When a light hit the target, the ball lit up like a sparkler. A little dog chased the lights back and forth. Two girls whizzed by, balanced on small boards that seemed to be a blend of a surfboard and a magic carpet.

Aster could not help but appreciate the view and be somewhat comforted by the happy children. She had always longed for such a carefree existence. But was life here as peaceful as the scene implied? Karl had not seemed very pleased with his lot in life. Had she and the others only traded the terrors of the hijacking for this confinement—a room from which she could look at the world around her but not touch?

"Pretty, isn't it?" Cherry said as she came up to Aster. For once, her natural exuberance seemed subdued.

"Very. But I can't help wonder if it's only a three-dimensional picture put there to deceive us."

Cherry shivered. "I can always count on you to point out the gloomy side of things. C'mon. I made dinner."

Aster raised an eyebrow. "You? You don't even cook in your own apartment."

"Yeah, I know, but this was fun." She directed Aster to the kitchen where the others were already enjoying a variety of meals. Johnny was twirling strands of spaghetti covered in red sauce, Nick was cutting a thick steak and Sheila was savoring a bite of breaded fish.

At Aster's place sat a juicy cheeseburger, baked beans and an iced tea. Cherry knew Aster preferred that to a gourmet meal. She bit into the meat and tasted hickory smoke and the baked beans were flavored with molasses.

"Mmm. This is great. How did you do it?"

Cherry winked at her. "While you were being antisocial, we were learning about the facilities manager. It controls everything in your environment and provides whatever you need, just by your talking to it. And it can talk back too. Plus, it knows all about Outerworld foods. You just tell it what you're hungry for and a few minutes later,
zap
. Your order appears in one of those steel cabinets on the wall they call the supply station. Or you can choose from a menu of about a zillion choices. By the way, that's not real meat you're eating."

Aster choked and stopped chewing. Cherry had done it to her again.

"Oh, don't worry, kid. It's not ground bugs or anything gross like that. These people are vegetarians, that's all. But what's the difference, as long as it tastes like you expect it to? You get clothes the same way, by picking from pictures on the screen. And everything gets thrown away, recycled actually, when you're done. Can you imagine? No more cooking, dirty dishes and, best of all, no more laundry! What's more, if I earn enough credits, I can even buy an android like Perd over there to pick up after me! It's real hard not to get excited about a society that can give me all that!"

"What did you just say about Perd?"

Cherry tilted her head. "Didn't Oona tell you anything? While you were studying the landscape, Perd told us about them." She purposely chewed another bite of her salad slowly to keep Aster on the hook. "They're all androids, the caretakers I mean. But I distinctly recall Romulus saying he was definitely human."

Aster choked again.
Damn
. Even the mention of his name was upsetting. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and hoped no one else noticed it. One look at Cherry's smug expression told her she had not been that fortunate. Thankfully, Sheila misunderstood her embarrassment and attempted to explain.

"It's not so terrible if you think of them as highly sophisticated machines. Our caretaker told us they are used for dangerous situations as well as dealing with new arrivals."

Johnny cut in. "That man, Karl, must have been telling a few truths. It seems some people here might not treat us as kindly as our caretakers have. On the other hand, some new arrivals are not as calm as we are. Using robots, er androids, to break us in is their answer to the problem."

Aster was stunned. Oona, that sweet, thoughtful lady, not human? She felt the old anxiety creeping over her again. Was there nothing she could depend on? She fought her fear and allowed the conversation to flow around her until she could politely seek out the limited privacy of her cot.

It was not to be. Cherry immediately joined her, making herself comfortable on the narrow bed. She handed Aster a notebook. "This was the manual you were supposed to get in the meeting. Perd said it'll tell us a little bit about everything we need to know. There're more detailed manuals on everything over there on the bookshelf. Everything can be accessed on something they call a vidcom, which sounds a lot like a computer only more advanced, but they don't provide one in here. My guess is they don't want us to know too much all at once."

Aster opened the thin book and scanned the pages. The Table of Contents looked like an outline an anthropologist might use to study an ancient civilization—Career Selection, Clothing, Economics, Education... Reproduction. She felt herself blush and wondered why her well-disciplined mind had taken a leave of absence.

"How do you think they do it?" Cherry pounced on Aster's very thought.

"Cherry! Is that really the big question here?"

"Me?" she asked innocently. "And, pray tell, how did you know what I was referring to? And while I'm at it, how did you manage to come through the same shipwreck I did and still have time to bewitch the most gorgeous hunk of beefcake this side of heaven?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Aster tried to keep her roiling emotions out of her voice.

"Okay. Have it your way. But it's a wonder any of us got out of that room without being electrocuted by the sparks that were flying between the two of you."

Aster opened her mouth to deny the accusation but had to chuckle at the picture Cherry described. What was the sense of arguing about something so ridiculous?

"I'm going to try my hand at designing clothes with the supply station. Care to join me?" Cherry asked.

"All right. Just for a little while. They tell me I slept all day, but I'm worn out."

Besides, there were times when a little of Cherry went a long way. At twenty-nine, Cherry was six years younger than Aster, but in the ways of the world in general, and men in particular, she was decades older.

In spite of or because of their differences, they became friends the first day they met at The Mackenzie Foundation in San Francisco. Aster's grandmother had set up the organization as an endowment fund to keep her money circulating. Cherry had just been hired there as a receptionist when Aster started as a prospectus analyst. At that time Aster's job was to review applications for grants and determine whether the agency or individual was worthy of receiving funds for their project. Now, ten years later, she was the director of the board of trustees and Cherry was her unorthodox, but efficient, executive assistant.