Obsolete Protection, Page 2

new water recycler that he received in exchange for the old weapon.

  At last Marcus got off his ass and began to search his apartment room by room, looking for something, anything to end his misery. He could find nothing useful, “Think, think- no razor blades,” not since they had lasered out all his facial hair for his department’s CPU interface. Not even a kitchen knife could be found. How long have I been eating ration packs for? When was the last time I had real meat that I needed to cut?

  He thought about all the ways that people had killed themselves in the olden days: Stick my head in the oven? No, his stove ran on solar electric.

  Leave my car running in the garage? No, his Audi ran on hydrogen cells and batteries.

  How about overdose on some pills? Nope, no more prescription drugs- not after the pharmaceutical companies were sued into extinction and gene therapy cured all people’s ailments- the ones who could afford in anyhow.

  I could hang myself? No fucking way he would dare do that, it was a felony hate crime just to make a noose, and if he tried, his home sentry system would stun him and call the cops before he even got it around his neck.

  Drown myself? Now that was really funny- He lived in the desert and even if he had an old bathtub, it would take several months worth of water rations just to fill it up halfway.

  Marcus then laughed for the first time in recent memory, “What a world this is,” he cried out loud. “I couldn’t leave it even if I wanted to.”

  He then tried to convince himself that perhaps becoming a level-four-citizen wouldn’t be that bad. He would have to suck it up and ask forgiveness in the Cloud- beg the swarm to decrease his negative rating enough so that he wouldn’t be a pariah. He could then shop again at Wal-Mart or dine out in public. If he got enough positive votes, he might even reach level-two status and still be able to make a living by working; maybe even publish a sim-book.

  Could he do it though? Could he suck up to the people he detested so much- the ones who could no longer think for themselves?

  It was true the swarm loved to tear people down, but they also liked to build them up again, if one showed enough remorse and agreed to join their hive-mind of humanity. He didn’t think he could do it- bring himself to sign the Terms of Agreement and receive the implant that would use his brain as part of the living global hard-drive.

  Nope- he then decided he would forever remain unplugged- the swarm could go fuck themselves.

  Marcus did have one ‘post incident’ job offer to consider. It was a crazy idea- and yes, he qualified for the position during the short time he spent in the US Coast Guard, before the depression and the race wars- but it would be a drastic change in responsibility. His options were running out though, if he didn’t make a decision soon, his Amero account would have no credits left, and in less than a month he would starve to death.

  He entered his bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, noting how old he looked- difficult to believe he was once so handsome in his youth that girls would follow him home from school and try to peek in his windows at night. No, he was old and hard now, and at seventy-three-years-old, in his opinion, not much to look at. He hadn’t received his first gene regeneration treatment until he was forty-nine, which made his physical appearance that of a forty-year-old. He was young enough, however, to take this new job, and had another fifty or so years left of life. That was plenty of time to start over in a new place, where he wasn’t called names like butcher, murderer and baby killer. This job could offer him a new beginning; a chance to escape his troubled past.

  “Lisa, call T.J. Kenneth at USEA. Voice only please.”

  The computer, who he referred to by her female persona, chimed a confirmation tone, then a few seconds later a man’s southern accented voice came over the house acoustic system, “Marcus old boy, how are you sir?”

  “I have seen better days, but otherwise fine, I guess. Thank you for asking sir.”

  “Still using the halo communications, huh? What’s the matter, don’t want to share your brain with the swarm?”

  “Not going to happen- I just decided. How about you?”

  “Hell no, it is against my religion, although I hear the porn is great when you are plugged in.”

  “I am not that desperate... yet...,” Marcus added with a smile just for himself.

  “Please tell me that you are considering accepting the position.”

  “Well T.J., I have been thinking, plenty of time for that with everything going on lately, and I think I would like to give it a shot. I only hope I am young enough to adjust to space life.” Marcus paced back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back.

  The other man sounded genuinely pleased. “Don’t worry about that Marcus. This is great news. I will have my admin draw up the offer letter and shoot it over to you. And welcome aboard- I am afraid you won’t have much time to put your affairs in order; you are scheduled to depart on December thirteenth.- aboard the USS Freedom’s Chance. Captain Tucker is a good man, and you two should get along well, so to speak.”

  “Well, It’ll be nice to get away from the media,” Marcus said with a sigh as he peeked outside through an opening in his curtains. “They are leaving marks all over my synth-o-grass.”

  “It will be a new life, on a brand new world, and God willing, maybe we won’t screw this one up.” The man’s tone then turned from reflective to serious, “Marcus you heard about the latest plague forecast right?”

  “I heard the rumors,” said the other remorsefully. “But I don’t know any details.”

  “Well let me tell you, I am happy my family and I are headed outbound to the old Mars workstation to finish up work on the Reliant. It doesn’t look good my friend; this RU426 virus is the real deal.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Yeah,” the man said solemnly and was silent for several more seconds. “Its voracity is beyond measure, the way it attacks the brain and the body’s nervous system. The people I spoke to at CDC say hope is slim for anyone coming up with a vaccine in time. The ones who can afford it will have to start living in clean domes until they can find a cure. The rest of them, well… God help them.” T.J. sounded grim and after a moment of silence changed the subject to a lighter topic, “OK Marcus, if all goes according to plan, the Freedom’s Chance should arrive at SkyRa in a little over sixteen years space-time. You figure it will be about three years to make camp, with the USS Reliant arriving in system around twenty-sixty-three ST. You think you can keep everybody in line until we arrive?”

  He laughed, “Hmm, that all depends. Any of those new age whack-jobs gonna be on board?”

  “Only about half the ship’s complement, which should be around three hundred- mostly colonists though. They will be asleep for three-quarters the way there- slight chance they won’t wake up. We can always hope for a malfunction of the ship’s stasis system.”

  “You have a twisted sense of humor T.J. I think that is why we get along so well. Wishful thinking, but I have a feeling we are going to need all the healthy people we can right now. Who knows, maybe with enough time they will see the truth and join the Path of Light.”

  “Perhaps, I guess time is one thing both of us will have more of from here on out.”

  It was true what the other man said about time. Marcus did not know much about space travel, just what his daughter had taught him. He knew they would be traveling at somewhere around thirty-eight percent the speed of light- that would mean that time would theoretically be slower for the people on the ship as compared to people on Earth. So for each day he lived sailing through space, three or four days would pass on Earth. In addition, most of the crew and colonists would be put in a frozen stasis sleep and shot full of drugs to further slow down body functions. Aging happened to be one of those body functions that most people happily agreed to slow down.

  The stuff of science fiction was now commonplace, even for people stuck on Earth- that is, as long as you could afford one of the new home stasis casket
s. Between regeneration treatments, gene therapy, stasis units, and space travel, people were beginning to live a long, long time. Just like in biblical times he thought to himself ironically. The end will be like the beginning. But unlike the people who had once been charged with populating the Earth, most of the longevity customers were from the wealthy class; Hollywood big shot types, hell-bent on giving us the privilege to buy another crappy halo-movie or trying to get the attention of the swarm with mundane scandals that seemed to surround their vapid existence. Shame, but you didn’t hear about them prolonging the life of our best scientific minds as much as you did these attention mongers. It wasn’t enough that most of Beverly Hills and California’s wealthier citizens were spared any hardship from the recent wild fires that engulfed most of the state, leading to all his troubles- but now they were all cheating death as well.

  The other man cleared his throat. “I know I told you this before, but don’t listen to what those assholes on the Cloud are saying. You did what people wanted done- what had to be done- what other people didn’t have the balls to do.” He added, “It is just plain sad that now they don’t even have the common decency to say so.”

  “Thank you my friend, I appreciate it,” Marcus reflected for a few seconds. “I guess in the end only God knows if I did the right thing or not.