Only Superhuman (17 page)

Emry glanced over at Santiago, but he seemed engrossed by his reflection in the punch bowl. “I see. And does this new regime of yours intend to give up fetal experimentation on germ-line mods?”

Hanuman gave a dainty chuckle. “Ahh, the staunch Troubleshooter, standing up for traditional ethics. My dear, you must consider the ramifications of where we are! Out on the frontier, a realm freed from the conventions of law and tradition. Out here, everything is fair game. Everything is tried.”

“Even it it means hurting people. Enslaving minds. Endangering children.”

“Hmm, yes, it is true that when old ethical limits are abandoned, some will do harm. But nonetheless, old ethics must be challenged. There was a time when ethics would have forbidden any genetic or bionic enhancement of humans, or even the most basic research into the field. How many lives would have been lost if those ethics had not been cast aside? How many children would have died of genetic diseases? How many elderly who thrive today would have long since wasted away in agony? How many people in need would have gone unsaved because their rescuers lacked the enhancements needed to reach them in time? Sometimes it is an ethical obligation to push beyond old ethics, even at the risk of allowing harm to be done.”

“So basically you’re saying you do still use babies as guinea pigs.”

“Oh, come now, we’re both too intelligent for propaganda, my dear. The reality is that prenatal engineering is no longer as reckless as the naysayers would claim. True, there have been some infamous failures among groups like the Wellspring. Indeed, I think you were acquainted with such an individual once, if that dreadful movie about you is to be believed.” She winced. “But they failed only because they lacked the more advanced techniques the Vanguard has to offer. If this new alliance comes to fruition, it will make those techniques more widely available and allow safer gengineering systemwide.”

Emry remembered she was supposed to be receptive to all this, and tried to look impressed. She glanced over at Hanuman’s companion, Selkie, but the young woman seemed to have nothing to contribute beyond draping herself around Hanuman’s shoulders and occasionally giggling at his pithy remarks. Emry subvocalized. Still, she could identify. At least Selkie was able to be more honest about her job.

Zephyr replied. Emry suppressed a grimace.

Hanuman was continuing. “You may be interested to know, by the way, that we had Vanguardian assistance in our recent revolution. I came here personally to plead with President Thorne and was able to persuade him to bring the Vanguardians out of retirement, if you will, as a force for positive change.”

Emry was guardedly intrigued, but hesitant to trust any Neogaian, particularly one who had named himself after a trickster god. According to her briefing files, “Hanuman” had formerly been Jahnu Kwan, an eccentric Australian billionaire of Indonesian descent. He had helped found the Neogaian movement upon relocating to orbit, partly out of an interest in genetic enhancement to compensate for his physical slightness, but largely out of anger at the damage that the human-induced rise in global sea levels had done to his ancestral homeland. So his claim to have been uninvolved in the former regime was not one she was ready to take at face value. “I see. So this whole new Vanguardian openness was your idea?” she asked, not entirely masking her skepticism.

“Oh, hardly. I was simply fortunate enough to come to President Thorne at a time when he was on the cusp of making the decision for himself. If anything, my dear Green Blaze, I suspect your own heroic example provided far more inspiration.” He stared at her admiringly. Well, at part of her. The diminutive, stooped Neogaian’s eye level was more or less Emry’s nipple level, and he was taking full advantage of the fact. Emry didn’t object, since anything that distracted him could be useful in probing his true agenda. Just so long as his own probing remained verbal only—a message he got loud and clear when he tried snaking his tail up her dress and got it stomped on for his trouble.

However, Hanuman maintained his debonair slickness as they continued to discuss the ethics of the research being done by the represented parties—such as the efforts of the Moreau Foundation to grow DNA-based AIs inside the skulls of cloned animal bodies. The flamboyantly plumed parrot that perched on the Moreau delegate’s shoulder was a prototype, introducing itself as a Personal Digital Avian. “Now, many of my fellow Neogaians are outraged at the Moreau Foundation’s work. They despise the idea of AIs that can exist in the wild as animals; they see it as one more imposition of humanity upon holy nature, another violation that must be cleansed if the Earth is ever to be restored to purity. But my party sees it differently. Humans are not about to give up all our technological advantages, our cyber assistants, our luxuries and amenities. I accept that, even if many of my more, er, impassioned comrades do not. But if we can remake those technologies into a form that can coexist with nature, that can live the life of a parrot, say, or a horse or a dog, then technology itself becomes a part of nature, and we can reconcile ourselves with nature in a way that requires no violent revolution or rejection of modern benefits.”

“That’s very interesting,” Emry said, silently adding,
if it’s true.
If Neogaia was truly being run by a moderate faction now, that was something to be encouraged. “But weren’t you the one saying that individual death is what keeps nature going?”

“Ultimately, yes, and we are wise if we accept that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t get the most out of our lives while we have them. I firmly believe there’s always a middle ground. A place where people can come together and reconcile their differences. Don’t you?” he asked, taking her hand in his and giving her a look suggesting that the place where he hoped to come together with her was back in his guest quarters.

She settled on a neutral reply. “Well, I guess that’s what we’re all here to figure out. Though I’m still unclear on just what this whole alliance thing is about. Is it just to share notes on our mods, or is there a bigger point?”

But Hanuman was looking beyond her and grinning widely. “Ahh, here comes the lady who can answer all your questions. Psyche has arrived.”

Emry turned to the far entrance—and realized that everyone else was doing the same. There had been no fanfare, no formal announcement … yet when Emry caught sight of the woman who had just come through the door, it became evident that she needed none. Emry had some firsthand experience with stopping traffic, but this woman could stop a colony ship. She was impressively tall, willowy yet voluptuous. Her legs stretched clear out of the ecliptic plane. Her warm mahogany skin made a striking contrast with the spun-gold hair that fell straight down her back, its ends just brushing the upper curve of her tight, heart-shaped buttocks. Her face had a classically perfect bone structure, with high, rounded cheekbones and brow. Her features embodied the best of every ethnic type: sleek, winglike epicanthic eyes with silver irises, low, rakish eyebrows that spoke of mischief, a wide, dainty snub of a nose, and an enormous full-lipped smile that radiated sunlike warmth. The backs of her hands bore butterfly tattoos whose ink iridesced like the wings of the genuine article.

Her outfit enhanced her stunning looks, mainly by staying out of their way. A deep-blue leotard covered half of her diagonally, baring her left leg and buttock and her right arm and torso. Crossing over it was a flowing half-dress of diaphanous silvery material, covering most of the parts the leotard didn’t but only marginally concealing them. In the low décolletage that was jointly created, a gold butterfly amulet dangled between her firm breasts. Double-helix bands adorned her bared forearm and lower leg.

Psyche. Eliot Thorne’s daughter.
That explained a lot. Like her father in historical videos, she was statuesque, confident, commanding the room with her mere presence. Yet she did it in a wholly different way, radiating friendly warmth rather than cool, forbidding authority. She greeted everyone she passed with enthusiasm and joy, taking their heads in her hands and kissing both cheeks as though she meant it. Then she chatted with them for a few moments, eyes wide and fixed raptly upon them as though each one was the most important person in the world to her, before moving on and repeating the procedure on the next.

“Enthralling, isn’t she?” Emry pulled her eyes away to look at Hanuman Kwan. “Ahh, yes, I see you’re not immune to her charms either,” the monkey-man said with a leer. “God, I love those breasts. Like clenched fists! And those proud, high nipples, they just snag you under the chin and pull you along after them. And she knows it, yes—she’s not afraid to use it.”

Emry could see what he meant. Psyche was playing the room like an expert seductress, her every word and gesture perfectly calculated. She’d even mastered a skill Emry hadn’t: being blatantly alluring to men without alienating women. Her warm, accessible manner defused her intimidating beauty. Emry reflected that could help with both sexes; some men were frightened off by a woman that gorgeous. But Psyche was coming on just strong enough for each person, tailoring her approach to fit.

It wasn’t what she’d expected from a woman who’d been touted as the pinnacle of mental enhancement. No cold, calculating intellect looking down from on high, but a warm, appealing, and frankly physical presence, defying all the stereotypes. But maybe that in itself was the result of careful calculation.

Finally Psyche’s sparkling eyes fell on Emry, and she beamed with a joy that certainly looked sincere. “The Green Blaze!” she sighed in a warm, musical alto. “Emerald, hello! Hi!” She clasped Emry’s hands and her shoulders shook girlishly. “It is so wonderful to meet you! You’re like—oh, no, you
are
family! Welcome home!” Seemingly unable to restrain herself any longer, she hugged Emry and kissed her on both cheeks. Her skin was warm and amazingly soft. Her hair smelled like pumpkin pie and new-mown grass.

Sensing Emry’s tension, she pulled back, though one hand stayed on Emry’s arm. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get carried away. I know I can’t expect you to embrace us wholeheartedly right away, after the falling out we had with your dad. But I’m really glad you’re here, Emerald. It gives us a chance to start over.”

“Well, that’s what I’m hoping for,” Emry said. “And it’s really weird, meeting so many relatives I never knew about. Don’t tell me, you’re like, my aunt or something?”

Psyche laughed. “No. Well, maybe a little. Lydie Clement was my birth mother, but I’ve got a lot of genes from Thuy Dinh, some from Krishna Ramchandra, a whole mix. There might be a bit of Liam or Rachel in there somewhere. But not enough for us to be cousins or anything, I’m afraid.” She shrugged, sending a comely shimmer through the hair that fell alluringly over the right side of her face. “Our relationships are … more complicated than traditional ones. There’s some talk about abandoning last names altogether, and many of us already choose them for reasons other than parentage.”

“But Eliot Thorne is your father?”

“Ohh, yes. I’ve been so lucky. I couldn’t have had a better father, teacher, role model, friend.…”

“Designer?”

Psyche took no offense. “Of course. He literally made me what I am, in every way.”

“Well, my compliments to the artist.” She shrugged. “I guess I got lucky. I got my looks the old-fashioned way, from my mom.”

“Yes, I’ve seen some footage of her shows! Lyra was an extraordinary beauty. I can really see her in you,” Psyche said, a hand cradling Emry’s cheek.

“You’ve seen her shows?” Emry was genuinely impressed. “Not many people remember her work.”

“Well, it was a bit esoteric. And controversial in some circles. But I found it very inspiring. And very sexy,” she added, grinning. “I’d love to talk about it later on, if you’d like.”

“Sure,” Emry said, realizing she meant it. “I’d love that.”

“Great! I promise I’ll get back to you later on, and we’ll talk some more, okay?” She hugged Emry once more and stroked her hair as she pulled away. “It is so wonderful to meet you.” She moved on, her hand lingering in Emry’s before she broke free and turned her attentions to Kwan. “Hanuman, you old lech! How are you?”

“Basking in your resplendence, my dear. May I say your breasts look magnificent today?”

“Why, yes, you may!”

*   *   *

Though Psyche had created a first impression that was unexpectedly sensual, her conversation with the delegates quickly confirmed that her mental gifts were as spectacular as her physical ones. As some of the more skeptical delegates challenged her as to the value of a mod alliance or the trustworthiness of the Vanguard, she responded with cogent, compelling arguments expertly tailored to their priorities and agendas. “We all know the current situation is untenable,” she said to the group around her, which Emry had joined after refilling her buffet plate. “The Belt is too chaotic. Too many people suffer, too many are deprived of rights and protections, and it drives them to violence. And our ability to defend against such violence is too tenuous, too uncoordinated. Of course the Troubleshooters are out there putting their lives on the line every day,” she added, moving to Emry’s side and clasping her shoulder, “and it’s thanks to their amazing courage and resourcefulness that things aren’t even worse than they are. But even the Troubleshooters can only do so much. Imagine how much more we can all do, working together.”

Some were disinclined to see things the same way. “Violence is the natural state of things,” asserted Marcus Rossi, the delegate from Mars Martialis, a militant Martian sect that pursued so-called “warrior virtues.” The Martian outback, like the Outers, had its fair share of insular fringe communities. “It makes us strong and worthy. Those who need protection from it don’t deserve to live anyway.”