Chaos Cipher (8 page)

‘
What in the
world is…?’ she whispered leaning in.

‘
What is it?’
he asked, approaching to see the scans.

A wall screen
was not far away and she threw the image onto the wall, the
Quantic-W applications responding to her arm’s movement, sent the
readouts live while recording the baby.

There
displayed the sonic-resonance imaging of the new-born’s physiognomy
and they saw the mutation, a long prehensile tail. Sonja reached in
and pulled away part of the linen to see the tail coil and move
around the blanket.

‘
It’s an
Olympian Genetic,’ Boris had heard Sonja whisper. ‘It’s not
human.’

Immediately,
Boris turned his head to them, stepping into the light and studied
the image carefully.

‘
Uh-ho,’ he
uttered crestfallen. ‘That’s not good news.’

‘
What will we
do?’ asked Dak.

‘
Put that
thing back where you found it.’

‘
Boris!’
Sonja shouted.

‘
What?’ he
shrugged. ‘Those things spell trouble Sonja.’

‘
Those
things?
’ she snapped
angrily. ‘For heaven’s sake it’s a baby.’

‘
It’s an
Olympian!’ Boris interjected. ‘It’s an off-worlder, a cosmonaut, a
creature that isn’t supposed to be here…’

‘
That’s not
the history of the Olympians and you know it,’ Sonja barked
protectively. ‘They were kicked off the planet for being Olympian
the way we were
kicked
out of the Atominii for our humanity.’

Sonja reached
in and lifted the frail baby into her arms and smiled
affectionately. Her motherly impulses buoyed as the baby uttered
and wailed for the first time, unhappy to be disturbed from its
sleep. Moved by the whimpering Sonja hushed softly into its ears as
she took the baby into her bosom and bobbed lightly on her
feet.

‘
We can’t
take him back,’ she told Boris.

‘
People are
going to find out,’ he said.

‘
Maybe not,’
Dak realised. ‘What if we can surgically remove the tail? It
shouldn’t be difficult.’

‘
For all you
know,’ said Boris, ‘that could kill it anyway. Do you know anything
about Olympians?’

‘
I know a lot
about anatomy,’ Sonja frowned. ‘He won’t be much different from you
and I.’ and she pondered aloud, considering the option. ‘Remove the
tail.’

‘
Can you do
it?’ asked Dak.

‘
I don’t see
any physiological reason why not,’ Sonja said looking again at the
scan. ‘No major arteries. The difficult part will be making sure
the nervous system around the ala and sacral hiatus are properly
managed. I wouldn’t want to risk him having any spinal defects.’
Sonja caught a glimpse of the child’s opening eyes and she shook
her head. ‘What if it grows back?’

Boris was
nodding in agreement.

‘
Are you
going to explain to him later that we must mutilate him again to
keep living a lie and all because we were dishonest from the
start?’

‘
Right,’ Dak
sighed. ‘You’re right.’

‘
These things
are deadly,’ said Boris, ‘you’ve seen what those Blue Lycans can
do. We all have! We don’t know enough about the Olympian race,
there’s a reason they’re illegal.’

Dak’s eyes
flared as he regarded Boris and he folded his arms
confidently.

‘
You wanna
talk to me about race?’ he challenged. ‘I know something about
discrimination, my white brother. Those Olympians were mutilated to
begin with, their genes mutilated, their figures distorted, as
though denied their humanity, all in the name of deep-space
hibernation projects.’

Boris,
increasingly uncomfortable, muttered something unintelligible and
shifted on his leg.

‘
I’ve lived
with enough stereotyping in the hardlands to recognise what follows
once a person is dehumanised. But you need to remember, Boris.’ He
reminded him. ‘The human race is
one
race, not a different set of
species. A lot’a folk don’t like hearing it, a’right, but it’s
gotta be heard.’

‘
We are a
home for those who need one,’ Sonja added in agreement. ‘We don’t
struggle here for anything. We make happen what is possible and
turn nobody away. Why should we start now?’

There was a
long silence, but Boris felt the need to push again, just to be
sure.

‘
But Sonja,’
he started, ‘these Olympian Genetics are illegal. They’re rated
more deadly on the Atominii listings than nukes. This isn’t about
race. Maybe it’s just their culture to be violent.’

‘
Ah Boris,’
Sonja sighed, ‘violent compared with who? Other humans? Do you
think violence is because of a culture or religion? There’re none
more violence than the Atominii. And who cares what the Atominii
say? They also believe we, so called precariats are not post-human
enough to have the right to access fresh water.’ And Sonja gently
eased the baby back inside his pod. ‘Anyone unable to survive in
the Atominii’s
luxurious
vanity and fame are reduced to being human at
best, which is bad enough. As though it’s some sort of sin or
punishment. They say what they want and why should we care? We owe
the Titans nothing and we’re doing fine here without
them.’

‘
Well I
propose we at least let our community know,’ said Boris. ‘I mean,
finding a baby is a great thing. But finding an Olympian puts a
different spin on it. People might feel threatened.’

‘
And why
should it put a different spin on it?’ she challenged further.
‘Would Cerise Timbers abandon me for having Japanese and Anglican
blood ties? Would they abandon Dak for being black? Would they
abandon you for being an ex-Atominii plutocrat?’ Sonja then smiled
warmly. ‘Taking in an Olympian is a middle finger to the Atominii
and its laws and to hell with them I say. I’m with Dak. There’s
only one race on this planet. Whether it’s wired with neurophases
or nanome upgrades or not. Call them what you want. In the end
we’re all people.’

‘
But you’re
giving them a reason to destroy us,’ Boris pressed further.
‘Sonja…this is a big issue. It affects everyone regardless of what
we believe to be right as a whole. Ordinarily I’d say of course
keep the kid, but this is not an ordinary situation. We have to
inform our local federation and let people know.’

‘
We will,’
she prudently assured, ‘right now. And I’ll remind people that we
are one race. The Atominii have us on their
damn
hit list anyway. Who is the
coordinator this season, is it Enaya?’

‘
Yeah.’ Dak
nodded. ‘Enaya Chahuán.’

‘
Let’s talk
with Enaya about informing East B’ One locals and register an
appeal to keep the Olympian baby. We’ve got a good argument Dak. We
don’t agree with the Atominii. They’re willing to condemn us for
our humanity, let’s remind them how they lost their
own.’

‘
What if it
comes to abandoning the child?’ Dak confidently opined, leaning
closer to her. ‘What if people don’t want to risk that?’

‘
We might say
no Sonja.’ Boris added.

‘
Are you
afraid?’ Sonja asked, regarding Boris with a mild disappointment.
‘Would you make a vote on abandoning this baby?’

Boris looked
at the baby, a melancholy indecisiveness causing his neck to
stiffen and he quickly shook his head.

‘
Course
not.’

Sonja
frowned, for the first time realising he was a bad liar and she
said it too.

‘
Alright so
maybe I’m a little nervous. But you’re right about one thing. We’ve
never bowed to the Atominii yet,’ Boris dithered. ‘Why should we
start now?’

‘
Exactly,’
Dak simpered. ‘I hope people will go for this. Olympian or not…this
is a baby. Nobody here would throw him to the wolves.’

‘
It’s just we
err…I’ve heard some horror stories about these things and…’ Boris
stared at the baby’s pod, ‘…I’ve never seen an Olympian Genetic
before.’

-5-

‘F
ifteen years?’ Enaya Chahuán
sighed, sitting back into her chair with dismay.

‘
That’s our
estimation, yes,’ said Daryl Sanders, a tall and mutually
experienced delegate in sociocratic matters. His black vest was
damp from the green-house humidity of the dome, his torn jeans
soaked at the hems. He’d just informed the local federal
coordinator about how much longer the city’s mining program is
expected to last, and the news wasn’t pleasant. Like Enaya he too
had served as one of the city’s civil coordinators, positioned in
several duties of administration and organisation. He was an older
man, very thin with white hair he liked to shave into a military
crop at the sides and fix into waxy spikes. Enaya was aware of his
militant past, something he’d left behind in the name of peace many
years ago. Daryl had always been a peace keeper, always willing to
fight for the good. Often, however, he’d fought on misinformation
and been led astray. It was something that had divorced him from
combat into diplomacy.

‘
The miners,’
Daryl loquaciously went on ‘are particularly concerned about the
graphite yield the robots have been digging up. Y’know, the
Atominii clients are demanding more from the digs at a rate that
reduces our product supply, and the crypto they’re dealing are
usually from volatile networks that decrease in value later.
Assholes are good at scams.’

Enaya knew
that the crypto-coin yield was savings for a rainy day. If the
Atominii were able to pull the city apart somehow, they’d have some
fiscal back-up to get the population to other safer societies in
the hardlands. But this news was disturbing and meant that they
were giving away their product to the Atominii with no assurances
for protection anymore.

‘
So our
savings will be useless?’ she asked.

‘Basically,
yes. If the Atominii destroy us then all that crypto-coin they’ve
invested in us will be worthless. But hey, at least it shows this
was a sincere investment. They don’t want us ripping each other
apart over this. They must be aware of our values,
right?’

‘
So what,’
Enaya smiled. ‘We don’t rely on it. We don’t need it. We have other
guarantees to safeguard our survival.’

‘
The thing
is,’ Daryl continued. ‘We think the Atominii states are demanding
more of our mining yield not because they need it, but to reduce
our usefulness to them so they can send in their extermination
forces.’ He hesitated to ask. ‘Do you think they know how much
we’re actually sitting on?’

Enaya didn’t
answer. The city was busy caring for itself as much as it was its
supplies. The security agencies worked very closely with the city’s
military, she was sure no spy drones had made it into the area.
Sure, but not certain.

‘
Has this
information circulated?’ she asked.

‘
Of course,’
he nodded. ‘The miners publicised their reports earlier
today.’

‘
Good,’ she
sighed, ‘we should keep people updated about this situation. That
product is the only thing keeping the Atominii off our backs. When
the Atominii believe it’s gone there’s nothing to stop them from
coming down heavy on us. We need to address this in the week’s
communal assembly. The last thing we want is a war, even if we can
leverage help from Talon’s Bay’s military.’

‘
We’ll blow
up the mines before those bastard Titans get hold of it,’ Daryl
promised.

Enaya stood
from her seat and sauntered across the stone floors of the building
to a panorama of paper thin computer screens stood supported on
tripods or parts of the structure’s walls, all displaying protocols
and glowing modules for each administrative decision made by the
city’s consensus.

The Federal
building was a tall structure, like a giant white stone parabola
designed to be overgrown with verdures, each floor modelled on the
Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Like most of Cerise Timbers
coordination buildings, East B’ One’s local Federation had no glass
windows and much of it was hollow with large openings and meeting
spaces suitable for assemblies of up to fifty or sixty people.
Verandas ledged out on the external sides and bridges and walkways
networked throughout, exhibiting multiple levels of marble floors
with balustrades from which to view the surrounding city or to
water patches of plants they had grown there. During winter
periods, this would all close up to insulate warmth. From this
building anybody could discuss and broadcast real-time engagement
into conversations to have their say, pitch ideas and provide
research results for public review. Assemblies were conducted both
in live audience and digitally and the building was open to public
use for whichever local organisation or administration or
individuals who needed it. Any local decisions were discussed
democratically, allowing for votes and updates to pass freely from
the attendees and committee members and everything was practiced on
a small scale.

The day was a
particularly hot one today, not unusual for the Siberian Summer,
and Enaya was wearing a long green dress that hemmed around her
ankles, the material temporarily changed to display the
coordinator’s insignia while she was in the building. She’d tied up
her short black hair to keep her shoulders cool; nothing felt more
irritating for her than having sticky skin and dry hair in the
prickly heat. Enaya had been a precariat for many years, but during
her time in the Megalo-Britai Atominii, she had been an academic.
Her parents emigrated from a war torn Palestine and she had never
forgotten the horror stories that came from her home. It was what
drove her into politics, a visceral need for justice, for fairness,
for equality. She, like many people in Cerise Timbers, saw that
humanity was a victim of hierarchical and unjustified authority and
bureaucracy, the process she aimed now to be a part of stopping,
but first she had to free minds.