Supermen: Tales of the Posthuman Future (47 page)

Standing beside him, Perfect said, "I took you on a course perpendicular to the galactic plane. Out and out, then around a black hole that sent us partway home again."

Ord was sobbing, tears flowing, tasting like a long-ago sea.

"We walked along that beach, yes. But we also crossed several tens of thousands of light years. Out, then back again. Which means that you can see some of what's happened since we left."

The Milky Way covered the sky. With new eyes, Ord could see every sun and world and lump of stone bigger than a fist— or so it seemed— and the Core was the brilliant horror that he expected, its detonation at its climax, radiations and expelled wreckage rushing outward in a withering, toxic storm. A baby quasar, only human-made. Worse than almost every reasonable projection made in Ord's long-ago youth—

—and by no means the worst of what he could see.

A tragedy, but one with calculable, endurable ends.

The greatest horrors were smaller, scattered through the galaxy's broad spiral arms. Ord couldn't stop seeing them, even when he shut his human eyes. Healthy suns exploded. Living worlds were reduced to dust. Unknown powers struggled against one another with a frantic, brutal violence. The Great Peace was collapsing. Old and fragile, it might evaporate totally before Ord could return home. And to accomplish what…? With or without Alice's powers,
what good could he do
…?

With a solemn voice, Perfect said, "Bless the dead!"

At Ord's feet was a knapsack filled with talents. In his left hand, a fine new spear tipped with a Folsom point. And in his right hand was a simple stone mug, the pungent odor of an old-fashioned liquor pervading the night air.

"Bless the dead," Ord repeated, with feeling.

The brothers touched mugs with a cool, almost musical sound.

Then, as Ord drank, Perfect told him, "I want to give you a talent. I don't have Alice's magic, but here's something you might appreciate."

Ord's mug became a nearly spherical ball.

Not heavy, not large.

It was a head, he saw. A Chamberlain head, complete with red hair and the piercing blue eyes. And emitting an enormous laugh, so pure and authentic that Ord couldn't help but smile for a moment, closing his hand over the sweet gift, knowing what it was and almost saying, "Thank you," before he realized that nobody was standing beside him anymore.

He squeezed the head until it vanished, becoming part of his immortal flesh.

Then Ord again looked at the Milky Way, realizing that most of it remained at peace, tranquil and inviting by any measure. And he managed to laugh in a quiet, hopeful way, picking up his knapsack now, thinking that all things considered, it was a lovely night for a little walk.

The future is usually thought of as being full of computers, microprocessors, nanotech, machines of every size and description— but as the posthuman condition continues to evolve, we may someday find ourselves leaving that kind of technology behind, consigned to the same trash heap of history that now contains the spinning wheel and the buggy whip. But, as always, such radical change will come at a price… and some people may be more willing to pay than others.

New British writer Liz Williams has had work appear in
Interzone, Asimov's, Visionary Tongue,
and
Terra Incognita.
She lives in Brighton, England.

The substance of the great life completely follows Tao.

Tao brings about all things so chaotically, so darkly.

Chaotic and dark are its images.

Unfathomable and obscure in it is the seed.

—Tao Te Ching, 21.

1

I've walked down Jiangsu Road almost every day of my life, ever since I was a little girl. Going to school with my brother Tso, my grandmother would hold our hands and together we'd look in the restaurant windows at the steamed buns and the egg rolls, at the flat, stretched chickens which Mr. Hsiun told me were wind-dried. I work in that restaurant now, and I know how the food's prepared, but I used to imagine all these poor hens blown about in a roaring gale until all their feathers had gone and they were stiff and thin. It's funny the ideas you get when you're a kid.

Grandma knew everyone then, and they'd come out of the doorways to talk to her. Sometimes we'd go round to see people and I'd sit with a Coke while Grandma fixed something or other: she was always good with machines. Now, no one talks to anyone, and my grandmother stays at home. It seems to me that many things have begun to change, down Jiangsu Road. The sunlight doesn't seem to reach it anymore, and last night when I came home from the restaurant, I looked up and saw the stars. I've never noticed them before above the city, because of the lights, but one night at my great-aunt's house out in the country, Grandma sat on the porch with me and pointed out all the constellations: the shepherd boy, the maiden, all of them. When we went home to Shanghai, I got a book and learned them off by heart. But these stars that blaze above me now are different and I don't recognize a single one.

Sometimes the people change, too. I walked down Jiangsu Road yesterday on my way to work, as usual. There wasn't a soul in sight, but just opposite
the entrance to the market, I turned round and saw that all the doors of the shops were open and everyone was watching me. At first I didn't recognize anyone, but then, to my relief, I realized who they were. They were the dead. I could see old Mr. Hsiun, who'd told me about the chickens, and who died about four years ago when we had that cholera outbreak. He was smiling and nodding at me, so I waved. Some of my relatives were there, too: I saw my great-uncle Leo. I went over to have a word.

"So you're still living here?" I said.

"Yes, yes, we're still here; we haven't moved," Leo said. "We heard your prayers. Thanks." He smiled at me, but there was nothing behind his eyes. He looked as two-dimensional as a paper doll, and then the wind shredded him into tatters, so I walked away.

The restaurant was still in its usual place, but the chickens that were hung up in the windows had gone and in their place were things that looked like rib cages; human ones, I suppose, but I'm not really sure. Anyway, after that it all melted away and I was back in the normal world and late for work. I'm trying to ignore these odd episodes; there are too many other things to worry about at the moment. I'm working double shifts at the restaurant now, because we spoke to the doctors yesterday and they said that we're behind with the payments for Tso's treatment. We can't very well abandon the treatment halfway through, so it's a question of either taking out a loan, which I don't want to do, or trying to catch up. I suppose we'll just have to manage. At least if one of us can get proper treatment, it makes things seem a little better, and it has to be Tso, because he's a boy.

2

My grandmother, as she sits in front of the flat eye of the old computer screen, tells me that I should put my faith in machines rather than the chancy flesh. Perhaps she's right; I don't know anymore. I'm just going from day to day at the moment: working at the restaurant, cleaning the flat, taking Tso to the hospital once a week. I took him up there this morning. They had him in the viral unit for almost two hours, while I waited outside. I tried to get tea out of the machine with a plastic chip they give you at the take-away, but it broke off and stuck in the slot, so I had to sit there, guilty and thirsty, while everyone gave me dirty looks. Then when Tso came out, we had to spend ten dollars on a taxi because he was still a bit groggy.

After that, I went to the restaurant and started my waitressing shift, but I was late again and they docked my wages. It's not been a very good day, today.

3

When I got back last night, Grandma was still up, sitting with her ear to the lifeless terminal. "You know what?" she said. "Sometimes, if I listen hard enough, I think I can still hear them."

"Who?" I asked.

"All those voices. In the old days, you could log on, you could talk to
people. Thousands of voices… out there, everywhere." She gave the terminal a shake, as if it needed only a little encouragement to get it going again.

"Yeah, you said." Grandma used to tell me stories about the e-net, but it didn't sound much to me. All you could hear was a lot of people and static on the other end of the line, crackling and bounced off a strand satellite. She never had a very good machine: only the little homemade portable. Well, those days were long gone and there was the future to think about now. I drew a deep breath.

"Grandma? Listen, a couple of days ago I stopped off at the market and spoke to Tony Tang. I don't know how you're going to feel about this, but he thinks he might be able to get me a cheap deal." I muttered the words, but I got her full attention. She gave me a beady look.

"What sort of cheap deal?"

"Well, you know… he thinks he could get me some equipment. Just some basic stuff…"

"And how do you propose to pay for it?" I wished I'd never started the conversation. I should have just got on with it and said nothing, but I couldn't tell her now that I'd already done a deal with Tony. A
fait accompli
, I think they call it.

Reluctantly, I said: "The thing is, I'm thirteen now. So don't really want to wait much longer, because, I guess it won't be long before I'm too old. To learn how to use the new technology. You know?"

She was quiet for a while, and then she said: "I Hua… we were talking about the old days just now. I can't help feeling that things were better then. Maybe I just don't understand this new technology of yours. I trained with machines, you see? Chips and neural nets and A-life, but things moved on so quickly. Two years after I graduated, Genreng Pharmaceuticals started to develop neuroviral interfacing— the bioweb, the Hsing-tao, whatever they call it these days— and I found out I was obsolete. I was too old to be put through the new program. Past it, you see. I was nineteen. And in the old days, at least you had the hope of another job when your technician career was over. I don't like this modern technology, Li Hua. I don't trust it, and I don't want you hanging round Tony Tang and his cut-price under-the-counter deals."

I said: "Okay. Look, I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning," and I left her staring at the blankness of the screen. I hate arguing with Grandma. It always makes me feel guilty, because I know she paid a lot of money for Tso and me. She wanted a child so badly, but she couldn't even have that. There was something wrong with her ova, some genetic thing, and they had to terminate her pregnancy. But fortunately, when they checked the fetus, they found its ova were fine, so they just fertilized two of them and transplanted them into a breeder and Grandma got Tso and me. That's all my poor mother was, a scrap of meat in a jar, and my father maybe less than that. I sometimes wonder if that's why I seem to be seeing ghosts all the time, being a child of the dead; but I know that isn't the real reason.

4

I went to see Tang again this afternoon in his shop at the back of the herbalist's. He was bent over the desk, doing something with a culture dish. He had one of those dried snakes that they make pills out of sitting on the desk and when he saw me, he rattled it at me, hissing.

"Cute," I said. I pulled up a stool and watched him as he worked. I drew a finger down the snake's skeletal spine; it felt as light and dry as air.

"So, did you speak to your grandma?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. Well, I tried. She wasn't very keen, to be honest. She's old-fashioned, Tony, you know?"

"Sure. She's an old lady. When she was your age, they just didn't do this kind of thing. Times change. Your grandma knows that." He paused, concentrating on the contents of the dish beneath the microscope.

"Do you still want to go ahead with our deal?" he asked.

I said: "If I decided to back out now, could I? I mean, is it too late?"

"No. No, it's not too late." He looked up, and his round face was earnest. "And you should know something, Li Hua; I wouldn't charge you for the equipment you've already used. I mean, I wouldn't do that."

"I know," I said. "It's okay; don't be silly. I want to carry on with it. Can I have a look at this?" I squinted down the scope while he held the microdermic. I could see the little blob, and the tip of the dermic penetrating it.

"That's all it is," Tony said.

"So how long will it take?"

"Ten minutes."

"Oh, okay, not so long, then. So I could go in on my way to work?"

"Whenever. I've made an appointment for you at the doctor's in Xiang Road. She's a woman; I thought you might prefer that." That's one of the things I like about Tony Tang; he's thoughtful.

"Thanks," I said. "What about tomorrow?"

"If you like. Stop in here on your way back, let me know how it went. You'll need more of the equipment then, anyway."

"Okay, see you then," I said, picking up my bag. I didn't want to tell him about the hallucinations, I was scared that he might think it was a bad omen and get cold feet. I left without saying anything.

"Keep the snake," he said, on my way out the door.

5

The session at the doctor's wasn't as bad as I'd thought. The doctor was really nice, and afterward she gave me a can of paracola, which she needn't have done.

"Do I have to do anything else?" I asked her.

"No, that's it. You shouldn't have any complications, but if you do, you come right back and let me know. You said your periods haven't started yet?"

"No, that's right." I said.

"Okay. It might have a slight effect, but there shouldn't be any problems." She helped me down from the couch. "There you are. You're all done."

6

I guess Tony might have felt a little sorry for me, because as well as the equipment, he gave me twenty dollars. Then at the weekend, it was New Year's and I made nearly 300 in trips. It was more money than I'd ever seen before. Grandma and I counted it up today, before we stashed it under the bed, and Tso watched us from the bunk bed, smiling. I'm so relieved. Now we can pay off the hospital fees and in a month or so, Tso can start work. I suppose I'm sorry, in a way, because we won't see much of him once he's got a job. Tso's doctor has been helpful; he says that he might be able to get Tso a place at an institute in Harbin. It's a long way away, but it's worth it.