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Authors: B. Wulf

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BOOK: Synthetics
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“So much for subtlety and secrecy,” he said, removing his suit jacket and running his hand over his balding head. “What do you guys want? My shout.”

“I’ll have a mocha Frappuccino,” Kate said.

“Same.”

“You kids and your poncy drinks.” He ended up ordering two hot chocolates for us, and a black coffee for himself. “I forgot the names so I got you kiddies these.”

I’m twenty years old and as my Granddad always used to say, ‘if you’re old enough to die for your country then you’re old enough to be called a man.’

“So what’s this all about?” asked Kate, “Why have you been following us around.”

Jones smirked. “Everyone has been following you three around. You guys are the talk of the town. Where is the other one by the way?”

“He doesn’t get out much anymore,” I said. My hot chocolate was bitter. I liked it sweet.

“He probably feels like a third wheel,” suggested Jones.

I smiled. Kate rolled her eyes.

“So talk,” she said, “What do you want?”

“Secretary Cosworth wants to meet you three.”

“Then set up an appointment through CANA,” said Kate.

She had little dimples when she got irritated.

“See that’s the thing,” said Jones, “He wants this meeting to be on the down low.”

The down low? I couldn’t believe that a forty something, balding, white guy just said that.

“He just wants to check in, see how you guys are doing,” he continued, “He’s quite a nice guy when you get past the…”

“So, why are we a matter for Homeland Security?” interrupted Kate, “We are not terrorists.”

“Well not as yet,” said Jones, “We just want to be kept in the loop.”

“Not as yet?” said Kate in disbelief.

Agent Jones shrugged.

“You want us to spy for you?” I asked.

“No, nothing like that. Secretary Cosworth is actually very good friends with Doctor Neumann. They play bridge together at the…”

“Then why don’t you want Sasha to know?” Said Kate.

Jones thought for a while and then shrugged.

“What the hell,” he said, “CANA is under surveillance as a possible threat to national security. You can’t develop this kind of technology and not get the government at least a little concerned. When Doctor Neumann started this internship, we got real interested. It isn’t like him at all. Like I said, we just want to be kept in the loop. No spying, we just want to know how you kids are getting on.”

“It’s just an internship,” I pointed out. I didn’t think it wise to tell him about Frederick. It almost scared me to think that I might be developing loyalties.

“Maybe it is,” said Jones, “But then maybe it isn’t. When are you guys free? It would be good if the other one could come along as well. What’s his name?”

“Stuart,” said Kate, “I don’t think we will be free for a while. We’re going on assignments.”

“Work experience,” I put in, “I get to go overseas.”

“Right,” said Jones looking at me like I was a freak show, “I guess I will be in touch then.” He got up and put his jacket back on. “Stay safe kiddies. You will be seeing me around.”

I gingerly got to my feet. My ankle was killing me. I wondered if I could get the cane fixed.

“And you,” said Jones, pointing at me, “You need help.”

I smiled and we both watched him leave.

“I think that was sweet that you stood up for me,” said Kate.

I don’t think my smile could have gotten any bigger.

“Even though it was completely unnecessary and you pretty much started it.”

Ouch.

“No wait, you definitely started it. You’re a moron Fletcher,” and then she smiled. “I mean that in the nicest possible way of course.”

“Right,” I said, “Possibly a heroic moron?”

Without replying she pursed her lips, took my arm and helped me along the street towards CANA. Life was still good.

 

 

Chapter 7

 

The next two weeks were possibly the two best weeks of my life. In the day I would assist in the lab, doing an assortment of interny things, and then at night I would get to spend time with Kate. We went to movies, saw musicals, explored the Washington nightlife, danced, laughed, cried; I was happy. But every day I saw Stuart less and less. He spent most of his time in his room, or worked late and went straight to sleep after. He started to look thin and haggard, like he hadn’t been eating or sleeping. Every night he had a different excuse why he couldn’t hang out.

But I had different things on my mind. It was nearly time to leave for wherever it was I was going. I had to go before Stuart and Kate, waking up at four in the morning to catch a six o’clock flight.

When the day came I was a wreck. I couldn’t bear leaving, but I had a responsibility to fulfill the internship, which meant going on this stupid vacation. I woke at three in the morning, next to Kate, kissed her on the cheek and headed back to my room to pack. I had found the determination to get it over and done with. Time usually passed faster when you weren’t wallowing in self-pity.

Half an hour later I met Cole, who was waiting in a black Mercedes out front of CANA and tossed my bag into the boot.

“Morning sunshine. Did you remember your toothbrush?” said Cole with an impossibly cheerful grin for this time of the morning.

“Yes Dad,” I replied sarcastically before realizing that I hadn’t packed one. I would just have to pick one up at the airport.

However, it turned out that we weren’t going to a conventional airport with terminals and duty free shops. We arrived right on five o’clock at a sleepy little airfield about an hour and a half outside of Washington. On the airfield sat a private jet with the slogan ‘CANA, Tomorrow Today’ emblazoned on it.

“I hate that motto,” said Cole as we hopped out of the Mercedes and headed for the jet, “Doesn’t even make sense.”

I shrugged, “It’s better than ‘CANA, The Home of Mad Scientists’.”

Cole laughed and handed our luggage to a man in a very slick pilot’s uniform. “You still think this is crazy?”

I shrugged again, “Yes and strangely no. I’m kind of getting used to the idea.”

Cole cocked his head to the side and looked at me with wide eyes. He was wearing his Tweety Bird tie again. “I’ve been working here for fifteen years and I’m still not used to it.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have computer games to desensitize you to this kind of thing when you were growing up.”

Cole didn’t smile but just stood there looking contemplative. “After you,” he said finally, “Boy prodigies before old guards.”

 

***

 

Cole wasn't much fun on the plane. He didn’t seem to be in the mood to integrate. He played Sudoku and read magazines for the entire flight; antisocial much. We landed at what could easily pass for Santa Clause's holiday home. It was a giant winter palace, nestled amidst a sprinkling of evergreens. I saw the runway being cleared of excess snow just before we landed. It was a stroke of grey on a white canvas.

“You're going to like this place,” Cole assured me as we descended into the snow.

We were in Russia, or the Alps, or a million places in Europe. Cole wouldn't even tell me which continent it was. The location was black suit secret.

“See the manor?” asked Cole.

“Yes.”

“That's it.”

“True?” I replied.

I wondered if it had room service. It looked a bit fancy for twisted experiments to be haunting the halls. All I had to manage was to not get my limbs torn from my tender young body by a misfiring mechanical abomination, and I would be safe and sound, sipping Lemon n Paeroa at Mount Maunganui with Kate. I just had to wait it out till Christmas and then I was free.

I wondered if she would ever come back to New Zealand with me. I don’t think I could live anywhere else. This escapade abroad had made that clear to me. I missed the Waikato plains, the mournful calls of the ruru as I drifted off to sleep. I missed the west coast beaches; cliffs and dunes disappearing into the distance like the lace hem of a giant’s dress. You didn’t notice it all until it was gone. It shocked me to discover that I might in fact be a patriot.

The beaches of New Zealand couldn't seem further away from this place. I kept expecting Rudolph to come prancing out of the forest.

Strangely enough, I couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps this was the right thing to do. Perhaps I shouldn’t bail after the internship ended. Perhaps I could make a difference in this world. But then perhaps I was a twenty year-old drowning in the deep end.

 

***

 

The inside of the mansion looked like a time vortex had hit. The main hall had suits of armor on one side and Scientists in white lab coats on the other. Lots of delicate looking visages hung on the walls, painted by Da Vinci in my opinion. They sat right next to a giant LCD television screen that was showing CNN. A butler in full regalia, white gloves and all, greeted us at the door. He took our bags and directed us through a stained mahogany door.

“Now it starts getting interesting,” said Cole, nudging me with his elbow, “You're gonna like this.”

In the corner of the room, across a very miserable looking lion skin rug was an elevator.

“Time for a surprise,” said Cole as he swiped a card and entered.

I had already decided, as I got into the elevator, that I wasn't going to be surprised. It was pretty obvious what was under here. I would get a surprise if it was Chuck Norris having a tea party with the Seven Dwarfs. That’s a plot twist worthy of enshrinement.

The doors slid open and I was mildly surprised. We stood on a balcony overlooking what looked like the pentagon's main floor. Flashing screens and serious old men and women with determination and healthy work ethic painted on their well-groomed faces filled the room. They looked like ants scurrying about, following the hive mind's orders.

“This,” said Cole, “Gesturing out across the expanse, “Is CANA Research Center A21. This is where the really groundbreaking stuff happens.”

I didn't respond, being too engrossed with the display. I thought I detected a hint of sarcasm in Cole's words. He was smiling without his eyes, like most people I had met lately, and gripping the rail that prevented us from falling and squishing the ants below.

“Why is it hidden?” I asked finally.

“They all are, well all the interesting ones are; the technological secrets hidden in this place make the facilities very tempting targets. That is why most of CANA’s operations are housed covertly. We do not support specific countries, superpowers, or agencies. We support humanity.”

“So what are they all doing?” I asked, gesturing to the crowd of milling people.

Cole laughed. “I still don't know the half of it. They are doing what Sasha wants.”

“How?” I asked, “Where’s all the money coming from? You said that there are more of these? They are miniature cities.”

“The twelve investors,” said Cole, “They form the CANA Board. You saw them. They're more wealthy than the Queen, with corporate empires spanning the globe.” Cole turned and started descending a flight of stairs. “Wealthy men are often the most afraid of death. That's how Sasha hooked them. He promised them immortality. There are others but those are the main ones. Sasha despises them all. He's scared they'll try monopolizing it. Turn it into a business venture. The truth is,” Cole paused and leant in close, “Sasha has become their prisoner. He needs them but they are all petty, selfish men and women who do not share his dream. This is meant to be a gift to all humanity, not just a select few.”

Money always complicates the best of intentions.

“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked, “Isn’t it private.”

“Because you need to know,” Cole replied simply, “Now come with me. I’ll show you where the Synthetic’s optics are calibrated. I started out in optics.”

I followed Cole down the stairs into the swelling morass of bodies and spent the rest of the day taking a guided tour. They all spoke in gibberish to me though. I only understood a fraction of it.

 

***

 

That night I sat at my laptop in a posh little bedroom in the chateau, wondering how they got all the equipment down to the underground lab space. There must be another exit, perhaps on the other side of the hills. I would have to look for it sometime. I was trying to think of something really romantic to send Kate in an email but my mind wasn’t cooperating. Instead I settled for something short and sweet along the lines of, ‘Jet lagged as. Cole is wearing his Tweety Bird tie again. Eeugh. Missing you pretty badly. I’m going to go to bed now because there is a chance that I might meet you in my dreams. Ps. Now that was cheesiness incarnate.’ It went on like that for nearly half a page. I was the master of using as many words as possible to say nothing at all. She would understand though. I would send a better one when I got a chance.

Smiling to no one in particular, I flopped down in the massive bed and fell asleep. I was still living the dream.

 

 

***

 

“I happen to quite like this tie. Sasha gave it to me.”

Isn't it funny how a specific arrangement of words can induce an involuntary physical response? My eyes widened and my jaw dropped slightly.

“I should have told you before,” said Cole, “We are monitoring everything coming out of this place. So remember to keep it PG, and sensitive information free.”

I felt outraged. My personal space had been violated! Before bursting out in a tirade of indignant rage I took a breath and realized I didn't actually care that much. I'd already come to the conclusion my privacy was a thing of the past. I checked the bathroom for cameras without ceasing.

“I understand if you're angry,” said Cole noticing my silence. He had been showing me through the Neural Transmutation Division. It was possibly the biggest of the research spaces. Once again I was out of my depth.

“I don't mind,” I replied, “You should meet my Mum. I'm used to it.”

Cole started fidgeting with his shirt cuffs. He did not appear to enjoy his job anymore than I enjoyed being his job.

“So why doesn't he have eight legs?” I asked, flexing my topic changing muscles.

“Who's he?”

“The dude we saw in the board meeting. Frederick, I think.”

Cole bit his lip before responding. “It's not that simple Fletcher. Think of a person recovering from spinal cord damage, say from a car crash, who is trying to regain the use of one of his limbs. Now imagine that we sew on another leg, with new nerve endings, axioms; the whole chabang; the brains going to have a hard time coping. We wanted the transition to be smooth. Shock was one of the biggest risks in the procedure. We wanted to fool the brain in effect.”

“So you can't control a flamethrower with your thoughts?” I asked.

“Perhaps in the future. It's hard enough as it is.”

“And you'll never die?”

Cole did not answer immediately. “Death is persistent. It always has some new scythe to cut you down.” Cole paused again. He started stroking the stubble on his jaw. “There is more than one way to die.”

“You don't reckon the Synthetics are immortal?”

“I assure you I am as optimistic as a pessimist can be. I simply do not know.”

Cole stepped aside for a trim woman who looked like she was on a mission from the queen.

“Why are you here anyway?” I asked, “Do Kate and Stuart get a handler on their field trip thingies?”

“Loquacious as usual,” said Cole, “No, I’m not actually specifically here for you. I came to retrieve something and bring it back to Washington.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s a need to know thing, and you don’t need to know.”

I shrugged. “Fine by me.”

 

***

 

I sat quietly beside Cole, watching a demonstration of the latest signal transduction methods. This involved staring at a readout while a little chip fired off a variety of pulses. Riveting stuff. Electronics had never really been my thing. It had surprised me that my masters in Neuroscience had not actually been particularly useful throughout the internship. The material we covered was just too broad.

“By the way,” murmured Cole to me, while taking notes, “About Kate…”

“Yeah…”

“I realize you have a relationship going…”

“Yeah…”

“And I would just like you to know that I approve.” He paused and looked at me. “You’re a good kid Fletcher, but I will break a large percentage of the bones in your body if you hurt her. She’s like a little sister to me.”

“That sounds reasonable,” I said, with a nod.

 

***

 

“Pack your things, we’re leaving.” Cole didn’t wait for a reply and started throwing my clothes into a bag. It was the middle of the night

“What’s the rush?” I asked, “It’s only been three weeks. Aren’t we meant to stay a month?”

BOOK: Synthetics
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