Adaptive Consequences Read online

  Anton squeezed his bulk in a collusive huddle. ‘But first, there’s a pressing task,’ he said coolly.

  Kau mirrored, and leaned in.

  ‘A sensitive one. In every sense,’ Anton eyeballed him. ‘It’s restricted information. You’ll need to sign an NDA, but it also requires… delicate handling. I understand you managed the relocation of the Chirchir family during the fourth-stage migration. From the East African Province, to here, correct?’

  ‘Yes, I know the Chirchirs pretty well,’ Kau upgraded his shrug to an enthusiastic nod. It was a coup if Anton had heard about it. ‘That was a slightly complicated case.’

  ‘So I heard. The Chirchirs didn’t want to migrate and barricaded themselves in their home. For six weeks straight, crucifying the three-week record. You were the guy who convinced them that leaving was for the best.’

  Kau stifled a smile. He was proud of that case. They’d started out mistrustful, antagonistic. But after two weeks of his involvement, he’d turned it around. No need for injunctions and Governance ruling. That was the first time he’d known he wasn’t just doing his job but doing it well.

  ‘I need you to convince them of something again,’ Anton had said, his throat choked out the last few words into a growl. ‘I can’t tell you the details yet – I know, I know,’ he said, putting up his hands. ‘But you have to trust me on this – I need them to trust me too.’

  Something had twinged in Kau; like he was playing spot the difference, and something was off, but he couldn’t see what. Had some part of him known then, that he’d be holding a bag with the remnants of an orphan’s childhood?

  Anton still hadn’t answered him when they reached their target destination – Ghetto West. Kau hazarded a look outside, he’d never been to the Ghetto before. It resembled some of the refugee camps he’d seen at work, post-destruction, pre-migration. Long-term transient living.

  ‘You need to tell me what’s going on. How am I supposed to convince her to co-operate when I don’t know what-’?

  Anton’s hand went up to silence of Kau. ‘All you need to know is there was a unique incident. As obstinate and obstructive as the Chirchirs were with you, they were worse with my team. The parents had weapons, there was a scuffle, they had to be disarmed.’

  Anton opened the door and heaved himself out; the Intuimoto reverberated.

  Kau joined him outside, the late afternoon sun thankfully starting to burn out.

  ‘Project Epomenzoic will be an undeniable success if you can convince her to work with us.’

  Kau had never heard any mention of Kodi in their Project steering meetings, but he knew it wouldn’t be well-received if he probed Anton on it further. It didn’t make sense; a teenage girl and a mass migration program. Where was the connection?

  Men and women started to file out, dressed in black, jumping like fleas out of the wagons, only with more menace. Their feet pounded on the ground, maybe fifty of them or more, thud after thud, all to retrieve one girl.

  Anton whispered something to one of his underlings, and the men and women began to arrange themselves; eight, maybe ten to a group. ‘I know it’s frustrating,’ he said and turned back to Kau. ‘But I can’t tell you any more than that. You don’t have the security band clearance…yet. But keep on doing good work like this, and you will.’ Anton dipped his head as though he should be grateful for the consolation prize. Anton must have seen the apprehension in Kau’s eyes, as he added, ‘I…we’ll look after her. It’s not in our interests to do otherwise. Fuck, Kau, I’m not a monster.’

  Kau snapped himself back enough to remember he was standing in front of his boss, one of the most influential people in the UA. One of the worst people to make an enemy out of. ‘Of course, not… Sir.’

  ‘Wait for us here, Anton ordered. ‘You have the journey time from here to the UA base to get her compliant.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Your job is done. Your security clearance goes up, and so does my trust in you.’ Anton smiled and squeezed Kau’s shoulder. He hollered for everyone to ‘move out,’ and the groups trooped off like sniffer dogs tracking a scent. They moved quickly, dispersing amongst the tin-can mob-homes, covering ground till it seemed like they were everywhere. How long would it be before they found her; was Anton a man of his word? Kau had thought so, but was there any honour amongst thieves?

  He threw himself back in the car, and so he didn’t feel utterly useless, looked at the contents of the bag again. He pulled out a Pix of Kodi and her parents, their smiles wide, playing Mancala or a similar board game, but like a dog with a bone, there was a question his mind was reluctant to drop.

  How could Kodi possibly help with Project Epomenzoic?

  * * *

  His father was waiting for him outside in one of the UA base car parks, leant against his Intuimoto, a faint smile grew on seeing Kau. The son felt as though he was being picked up from school, except it had always been his mother who’d collected him. He felt reassured seeing his stoic, dependable father. More than he’d like to admit.

  Fan looked at him with a face he usually reserved for work, a mixture of concern and caution. ‘Anton messaged me… said you might need a lift home as your car was stuck out West? Said I should meet you here,’ his father said, and the car door on Kau’s side swirled open. ‘Where have you been…?’

  Kau shook his head and hoped his father wouldn’t pry anymore, lest he had to remind him it was restricted information.

  Kau knew he must have looked in a bad way, because his father put an arm around him for a semi-hug. ‘Eat with us tonight, your mother will be so happy to see you.’

  Kau nodded silently and programmed his Intuimoto to journey back to his parent’s house. He breathed into his hand again – he didn’t smell of whisky but found himself wanting one. He needed something to quieten the overwhelming voice that said he’d just crossed a line he could never come back from.

  CHAPTER 10

  21st September 2037 – Week 3 (Day 20) of the study

  ‘Okay, let’s go with another image,’ Jun said, her eyes left the monitor to find Odgerel, who was playing with the material on her long, flowing dress. The voluminous fabric over recent weeks had begun to swallow her, till she looked as she was today, a phantasm of burgundy and teal. The illum wall behind dwarfed her; the white walls had retreated, and the room looked bigger than it had in weeks.

  Delun tied the blindfold around Odgerel’s face again and motioned back to the image generator. They checked if Odgerel was ready. She nodded, stiffly.

  ‘Relax,’ Jun said in a soothing voice, though she felt her own heartbeat climb.

  A new picture flashed up on the illum wall behind Odgerel. A placid scene of a wind farm off the east coast of the Russo-Chin Province. Uncomplicated, it could be communicated easily. Sweeping creamy-potato plains interspersed with vortices-turbines, more imposing than a forest of Redwoods.

  It was simple imagery for someone of Odgerel’s skill to conjure, but her face contorted. ‘Nothing. It won’t come.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Jun asked though she knew it was true.

  The response flung from Odgerel’s mouth like paint splattering on a canvas. ‘Yes.’

  The breakthrough they had been on the cusp of had not so much broken through, it had just broken. Odgerel’s metamorphosis over the last week had been like the waning of the moon, and today was the final wink. Since the conference with Dr Wei and Jun’s colleagues on Sunday, followed by her biopsy on Monday, Odgerel had steadily declined. They’d given her lighter duties and less tests, but it was unmistakeable – Odgerel’s P-EP seemed to be fading.

  When Odgerel had talked about Jun’s future son, her spine had seized, like the god of death Yanluo himself had drawn his finger down her vertebrae. The possibilities seemed exponential. Now the idea that Odgerel could pre-empt anything looked like an elaborate hoax.

  It wasn’t just Odgerel that had metamorphosed; Jun had as well. The fist of fear had grown; its scrawny claw ballooni
ng to a boxing-glove, landing a punch every time Odgerel didn’t respond, or her neuro-data depleted. And now again, today. Was Odgerel doing it consciously? Despite the depreciating results, Dr Wei still wanted to extend the study. Somehow, Jun was supposed to convince Odgerel it was the right thing to do, when she wasn’t convinced herself.

  ‘Let’s go again,’ Jun called to Delun, and then more softly to Odgerel, ‘Just one last try, Ms Zaye, then we’ll finish, I promise.’

  Odgerel shook her head. ‘I can’t. You know I can’t.’

  It was true; she felt it was impossible too. Jun asked Delun to shut the equipment down and to try and find Dr Markov to update him – it would be best if Odgerel were relieved from that evening’s tests. Even Markov had to agree that Odgerel needed a break this evening; data-capture would be futile.

  Jun peeled off the electromyogram and heard Dr Wei’s voice as she did it, ‘human tissue has a fantastic capability to self-heal, our budget does not – be careful!’ How he frustrated her. He would probably baulk at her suggestion of cancelling Markov’s tests. For someone with his intellect, his lack of reason was astonishing.

  Odgerel’s mass of black curls had been restrained and knotted, like buttons across her head. Odgerel still wore her blindfold, and Jun was thankful she didn’t have to look her in the eye as she removed the electrodes. Those eyes had been like white pools on the first day, drinking everything in. Now they were shallow as puddles, drinking absolutely nothing. The silence rolled like a thick sandstorm, and Jun racked her brain for something reassuring to say. She replaced the crown of electrodes in its receptacle, but nothing would come.

  ‘What have you done to me?’ Odgerel covered her face with her hands and began to cry, soft sobs behind the blindfold. Maybe she didn’t want to see and be seen either.

  It was almost impossible not to reach out and apologise, admit that she too was confused and concerned. ‘For what it’s worth, I don’t believe it’s anything to worry about. You’re tired, and it’s been a heavy week…’ she said as casually as she could, hoping to reassure her. It wasn’t a complete lie. It had happened to Subjects before, that the stress and tiredness had wrapped around their capabilities, choking them at the source.

  Odgerel pulled off the blindfold but turned away just as quickly to face the illum wall.

  Unease coiled round Jun’s throat. She was thankful Odgerel wasn’t looking at her for what she was about to say next. ‘I need to talk to you about something – we need to extend the study.’ Jun paused, waiting for a response, but Odgerel didn’t give any. ‘I know it’s not what you want to hear. You’ll obviously want a break, recharge your batteries-’

  ‘I’ve been patient. I’ve done everything you asked. I’ve let you monitor me day and night. I’ve let you put needles in my brain and body take tiny pieces and cells of it away,’ Odgerel said, her voice grew louder. ‘None of you can be trusted! You say one thing yet do another. I want to go home! My family needs me, my little Solo needs her mother.’

  Jun looked to the observation glass; she wondered if Markov were behind there, or Dr Wei, watching, and did they care? ‘You know how appreciative we are…’ she said softly, realising how hollow it sounded as she spoke.

  ‘I never saw my powers as a negative until the UA forced me here and now, I’m trapped,’ Odgerel waived her hand towards the one-way glass.

  Jun tried to reach out to her, but Odgerel’s movement had been swift, stalking towards the corner of the room opposite the illum wall and bench. It was one of the only areas in the lab where you were out of view from the observation glass.

  Jun paced through the door into the passage and checked the observation room; no one was in there after all. She found the camera and microphone feed switches and turned them off, then locked the door behind her. She didn’t want them to record the conversation she was about to have.

  ‘Odgerel, you offer the blueprint for organic augmentation to engineer a superior brain, the likes of which could define the future of us as a species,’ she said urgently.

  ‘I don’t want to be responsible for your neuro…Franken­stein­ing,’ Odgerel said quietly and shook her head like she was closing the door on a room of secrets. ‘Evolution is natural, let nature lead and we follow all in good time.’

  But this, Jun thought, was how humanity had evolved since they became a civilised society. Utilizing the resources available, and those you’d developed, to advance yourself and the world. They’d had to dig deep quickly. Fast-track and mature their thinking to mitigate their earlier mistakes. Neuroscience had been responsible for some of the most significant breakthroughs of their time. Odgerel had to understand how important she was. ‘Out of respect for the exceptional tool you have inside of you, we must learn from it. If we don’t learn and apply, well, stagnation is death.’

  Odgerel slid down the wall and wrapped her bamboo-thin arms around her body. ‘I didn’t have a choice in coming here, Dr Jun. Low-level threats about my family, how much ‘better off’ we would all be if I came. So I did, and now I’m trapped,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘You don’t have to stay. You can always leave if you want to,’ Jun said and joined Odgerel on the floor.

  Odgerel snorted.

  ‘I believe in the importance of what we’re doing, but I understand you need to put yourself first. It won’t be easy, but you can leave, it can be done. I will make it happen,’ Jun said. Dr Wei would make it difficult, but she wouldn’t keep someone against their will.

  They were silent again, but whatever tension had erupted between them began to pass.

  Odgerel shook her head. ‘I know you’re destined for great things and that I’m relevant in some way, which is also why I’m here. I knew I had to come to meet you. I might not agree with your purpose, but I believe in you. I’m not sure you asked for it, but I assume you want some commitment from my side.

  ‘If I commit to this,’ Odgerel added, and uncurled her arms from around her. Her eyes penetrated Jun. ‘Then there are some commitments I would like from you.’

  * * *

  It had been fortunate that Markov had called in sick with a fever. Out of the blue, and without a prognosis from his health chips. It gave Jun more time to process what Odgerel had said, and how to respond. She’d take as much time as she could get.

  In his absence, Jun had offered to complete the evaluation due for tomorrow, and Markov had begrudgingly sent her his results. Jun sat down on her kitchen-counter stool. She was glad to be in the comfort of her home, even if she did have work to do. The intensity of the day clung to her, and it wasn’t over yet. She had the evaluations to finish, and the anti-PSA meeting in a few hours and couldn’t afford to miss another.

  Jun forced herself to review Markov’s data again, cross-referencing it against hers – unsurprisingly, both showed a steep decline in Odgerel’s responses. What she needed was rest, not more tests. But Dr Wei had wanted more, and Jun had got more. More than she knew what to do with.

  When Odgerel had talked about commitments, Jun hadn’t been sure what she meant, as she had slid down the wall to join Odgerel on the floor.

  ‘You’re all observing me, but I’m also observing you. Dr Wei and Dr Markov are planning something that will do me harm. I had the feeling almost immediately when I came here. The awareness grew stronger. I felt that it would soon reveal itself to me, but then, as you’ve seen this week… it’s gone.’

  Blood rushed through Jun’s ears, and the sudden pressure of it throbbed. She thought of Dr Wei and Markov’s conspiratorial huddles, the changes in the program, and Dr Wei’s early liaisons with the Counsel. She tried to ignore the inner voice that had chewed and griped – her suspicions had been right.

  Odgerel carried on. ‘Dr Wei has often been in Dr Markov’s observations, but I’ve never seen him in one of yours. Most of the time Dr Markov will dismiss the other staff and tech Ai-ssistants, so often it’s just those two and me. Sometimes another doctor joins them – I don’t know his name �
�� they don’t introduce me. They do different kinds of testing, more practical-based stuff,’ she said. ‘Like guessing the imagery, but, different. I know they’re planning something that will harm me. I feel it. I was starting to get clarity on it, so I’d know what to do, but now, nothing.’

  Jun knew enough from Odgerel’s tests to believe her. At the very least, Dr Wei was keeping too close to Markov’s results, collaborating on the analyses and collating additional data – and what kinds of other tests were they doing? Jun closed her eyes and tried to sharpen her brain to give her answers. If she concentrated hard enough, they might just appear as they did for Odgerel.

  ‘Whenever I’m with Dr Markov, I take my panic button with me. I don’t want him, or Dr Wei, near me – I don’t trust them – and now my visions have stopped, I can’t protect myself.’

  Jun couldn’t believe they intended to harm her. They saw Odgerel as too valuable an asset. Markov’s pained comments about not trusting Odgerel and the Esposito case forced its way into her consciousness. She had no idea of the protocol of this kind of thing, or how Dr Wei would react. The impact would be felt across the team. ‘We’ll need evidence to prove anything…’

  ‘I don’t have any. But the recordings – unless they’ve switched them off like you have – that will have everything on there.’

  It would be too much to switch off the recordings continually, but Dr Wei was punctilious. Perhaps Pav might do her a favour and check it out, but it was a risk for them both.

  ‘The other Doctor?’ Jun probed. ‘Is he of Chinese descent?’

  ‘Yes. But he’s not the one in control, Dr Wei and Dr Markov are.’

  Dr Yeung wouldn’t miss out on an opportunity to rub his nose in something unpleasant if he thought it would further his career; it made sense with their behaviour of late. There would need to be an investigation of some kind, but perhaps Dr Wei would gloss over it, under the guise of hurrying the study through to meet his deadline.