Re: Gen

RE: GEN

  By

  Kevin Carneglia

  Chapter One

  “This is the last time I’m telling you, young lady, you’re not leaving the house in that body!”

  Maureen Burns stared her 14-year-old daughter down from behind the kitchen table, sipping her usual cup of Earthbucks Coffee. Centara, her daughter, had apparently chosen to take the form of the easiest girl in the moon colony before going to school that morning.

  The particular body Centara occupied was about 5’4”, with elegant jet black hair and milky white skin stretched over a sculpted form. Centara’s older brother, Arlen, eyed his sister’s heels from the table while he downed his last piece of toast. Though only 16, Arlen felt a primal need to look out for his baby sister, even if the way he did it wasn’t always the most kind. “Seriously? Madbad, sis.”

  “Go upstairs and change, young lady.” Centara rolled her eyes and stormed upstairs, making sure to slam each stair extra hard. Before his sister was even halfway upstairs, Arlen could hear her undoing the zipper to the body she was in. Her mother sighed audibly. Teenagers. Even on another planet they’re the same, she thought. She turned towards Arlen, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “And you, mister, don’t you have programming homework to do?” Arlen sighed. He was in his first year at the Atlantis Technical Institute, but already had a bad case of Senioritis. He longed to explore what lay beyond the moon colony. As far as Arlen was concerned, he was only going to stay in school until he’d saved enough money for a warp-ship. He’d been hoping the start of winter break would be just that--a break--but so far, no go.

  Reluctantly, Arlen pulled his OmniLink from his pocket. He looked at the small spherical device; he hadn’t charged it for several nights and was hoping the battery might “conveniently” die. Much to his dismay, he found there was one bar of battery left; enough to do homework, but not enough to play games or goof off. With a sigh, Arlen glanced at the device:

  “‘Load video: ‘Lecture 11’” Arlen tried to pretend he was listening to the pre-recorded lecture on downloading human memories into portable devices. He was distracted by the sound of his sister coming back down the stairs. This time (and solely, Arlen thought, to prove a point,) she was in the body of a slightly short girl with red hair and freckles. The girl had thick black-rimmed glasses and was smiling awkwardly.

  “Is this better, mom?”

  “Much. I put three more credits into your account for food today, okay? Have a great day, sweetie.”

  “Thanks, mom.” Centara kissed her mother’s cheek and bounded out the door. Arlen, who was now virtually melded into the couch, began playing music while he did his homework. Even as the band Supernova’s latest single, Meet me on Mars, blared its harsh chords through his OmniLink, Arlen couldn’t help but think of the fastest way off the planet. At least it’s better than listening to stupid lectures, he thought. He made sure nobody was around and exited out of the lecture, bringing up instead a search page for Warp-Ships.

  They were sorted by price, from highest to lowest, so Arlen thumbed to the second to last page. He glanced at the third result from the right, the Parthenon. Hmm…fifteen hundred credits…he might be able to afford that if he took back his old summer job at the Memory Factory. Then again, he never did feel fully right about manufacturing memories. Still, he needed to leave this place so he could have his freedom.

  Arlen’s thoughts were cut short by his mother re-entering the room. He quickly pulled the video lecture back up, only to see the screen display a message in huge blinking letters: “Battery Low. Charge Soon.”

  Arlen always found it interesting that the OmniLink, which was primarily responsible for the new dialect of BleepSpeak, often made requests in the Old Language.

  Arlen feigned interest as his teacher rambled on about Elvis Presley, some long-dead rock star. Apparently, Presley’s friends had managed to upload his consciousness onto a server, which was run by a WorldCorp subsidiary named Enigma Corporation. Not that Arlen particularly cared; his plan to live forever was to keep switching bodies, as most of his family had done. No surgery, no aging, and, eternal life provided they kept changing bodies. What could be better?

  Suddenly, a notification popped up. Arlen looked the text over twice to make sure he’d gotten it right. When he was sure the text was correct, he felt a shiver down his spine.

  Chapter Two

  Centara found herself shoved up against locker number 115 at Atlantis High School. She looked down at the OmniLink hanging from her skirt, hoping someone would respond soon. She eyed the fist of MaryAnn Simms as it neared her face. Centara ducked swiftly, causing MaryAnn to hit the locker…hard. Something told Centara she’d made a bad choice of body. She ran as quickly as the body’s stubby feet would allow, hoping she’d get away. Another one of MaryAnn’s crew trapped her suddenly; Great, she thought, Just Great. She tucked away her glasses and prepared for a savage beating.

  Before her face met with the girl’s fist, Centara heard the door of the gym nearby thunder open. She dared for a moment to open her eyes, and saw a large muscular man standing there. Would he defend her?

  The man jumped towards MaryAnn, pulling her fist away.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m Arlen. I don’t like you picking on my sister.”Centara beamed brightly. He got my message! And not a minute too soon. She had to chuckle at the fact that Arlen took the time to change into a muscular body before getting to the school. With little effort, Arlen peeled the bully off of Centara. He pushed MaryAnn against a locker on the opposite side.

  “Wh-what do you want from me? I only have ten creds on me.”

  “Keep your money. All I want from you is to swear you or your gang will never lay another finger on anyone here. No matter what.”

  MaryAnn quivered, and was only able to manage a small nod. Good, Arlen thought. While he wouldn’t mind shaking her down for a few extra credits, that was far from his point in coming here. He smiled as he thought of how proud his cousin would have been that Arlen was using his body for good.

  MaryAnn’s cohort lowered her fists and backed away from Centara. Arlen nodded slowly. Centara put her glasses back on, breathing a sigh of relief. The other bullies fled the scene suddenly, causing both Arlen and Centara to laugh. Arlen went up to his sister.

  “You alright, Cent?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Centara gingerly brushed the hair out of her face. She looked up at Arlen and grinned as the bell rang to declare the end of the school day.

  “Finally. Did you hover here?”

  Arlen nodded. While his hovercar was not the best of the day, it did okay getting him from place to place. He motioned for Centara to follow him to the parking lot.

  “Thanks for saving me back there. Those girls are madbad.”

  “No problem. Do they pick on you all the time?”

  Centara shook her head. She opened the window and allowed the wind to blow her hair in all different directions. Life just seemed so pleasant today, now that she’d been saved from the girls.

  “Nah. They just saw the body I was wearing and thought it’d be easy to take my lunch money.”

  “Noobs. Probably don’t have anyone that cares enough about ‘em to give them money.”

  Again, Centara smiled. She took a moment to look over the body Arlen had chosen, so muscular he barely fit in the seat properly.

  “Does mom know you took this body out for a spin?”

  Arlen chuckled. They’d inherited the body three years ago when their cousin, Jeff, died during one of the first light speed test flights. Their mother was still very protective of it even though Jeff had already passed away.

  “Nope. An
d as long as we get back by like 3, she won’t figure it out, either,” Arlen said.

  Centara flipped through the radio stations, hoping to find a victory song. An ad peeked through the static suddenly, and Arlen lunged for the dial.

  “Keep it here for a second.”

  “Think you can’t buy a ship without blowing every credit you own? We’re here to change your minds! John’s Merchant and Warp-Ship Emporium has sales on everything in inventory this Friday through Sunday only! Come visit us at 181 John Lennon Skyway, across from Clone Depot!”

  Arlen became so lost in thought that he nearly missed the stop droid up ahead.

  “Arlen!”

  Arlen slammed on the brakes suddenly, causing several hovercars behind him to slam on their horns.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Go back to Earth, you noob!”

  Despite the fact that Arlen was tempted to remind them of an earthly gesture often invoked while driving, he simply continued on like nothing had happened. Everyone here’s so ignorant, he reflected.

  “Thanks. Guess I owe you one.”

  “Nah; you already saved me once.”

  Arlen nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a sign droid displaying a message in flashing yellow letters:

  Exit 110-John Lennon Skyway and Atlantis Visionarium.

  JL Skyway? The ship place! He smiled and turned to Centara suddenly. “You don’t mind if we make a little detour, do you?”

  “But you said you have to return Jeff’s body by three!”

  “Oh well; I guess I’ll just have to deal with mom when I get home. Just tell her it’s not your fault. I’ll take all the blame.”

  Chapter Three

  Dr. Ulysses Morrow walked the halls of Enigma Corporation slowly. Odd for them to call me this time of night, he reflected silently. The dimmed hallway was exactly as he’d remembered; pictures of past Enigma and WorldCorp presidents hung along the corridor, as if saying “we’re watching you.” Morrow hadn’t worked with Enigma Corp since the end of the Last War, when they’d secretly offered him one of the first Immortalization surgeries in exchange for his services. Morrow still wasn’t sure he wanted to be dealing with the shady corporation again, but when a man like Eric Sibelius called, one did not very easily deny his requests.

  Sibelius, as always, sat in a massive black leather chair, his back to the arching window that overlooked the Memory Factory. The Director of Implantation was a quiet man, and yet instilled a fear in those he did business with.

  “Good afternoon, Dr. Morrow. Glad you could make it. Please, have a seat.”

  Morrow did so, noticing the pictures of past WorldCorp presidents had all been removed from the office. He wondered if this were by accident or design, but didn’t dare ask. Sibelius opened his laptop, which projected its view onto a virtual screen above his head. Morrow saw him bring up a chart that showed data from 2015 to the present day, but what data, he wasn’t sure.

  “The population of the moon colonies, as you can see, has been rising steadily since 2015. In fact, it’s risen much faster than we expected…”

  “Well, that’s great.”

  “Unfortunately, not exactly. Now that anyone with enough cash can become immortal, the death rate is incredibly low. Frankly speaking, Doctor, there’s too many people to handle.”

  Morrow recalled the Last War they’d fought on Earth, a war between the WorldCorp’s founding fathers and rebels who desired a return to their Pre-Impact governments. He’d worked for the WorldCorp, engineering biological weapons to help them triumph. Now, he feared the Director might want his help doing so again.

  “I see. So, what’s your solution?” he asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

  “We need you to get back into the business. Start making bioweapons again.”

  Bioweapons. The very word sent shivers down his spine. Sure, he’d made a living doing it back in the days before The Impact, but he’d cost thousands of lives in the process. Morrow had vowed never again to make bioweapons, no matter how much he was being offered. And yet, he didn’t have the courage to tell Sibelius no.

  “Well, you see, the problem is-it’s just that…”

  “Spit it out, Doctor.”

  “With all due respect, these weapons did horrible things to people in the past. Gave them horrible diseases and such. I really didn’t plan on--didn’t want to, that is--go back into making them.”

  Sibelius stroked his grey beard slowly. Morrow couldn’t tell if he was about to be punished for not doing it, or coaxed into obeying Sibelius once again. Sibelius remained calm, giving Morrow hope that torture wasn’t the next step.

  “I can pay you 5 million credits.”

  Morrow gasped; he’d never been offered a sum like that in his entire career. On the other hand, Sibelius had made most of his profit using illegal and underhanded techniques. Was it really right to take blood money to do this job? Morrow thought of his family; he could retire and spend more time with them. It was a tempting offer….

  “About how many weapons would you need?”

  “Once we get the diseases spreading, shouldn’t be so bad….I’m shooting for only three thousand.”

  Morrow raised his eyebrows; to eliminate so many people with a mere three thousand weapons seemed an ambiguous goal, even for Mr. Eric Sibelius. Then again, Morrow had made only seventeen hundred for the Last War, and they’d done significant damage. As if reading his mind, Sibelius interrupted:

  “My men are well-trained in spreading the diseases. They’ll make the best use of your weapons, of course. So, what do you say?”

  Sibelius extended his hand forward. Now was the moment of truth; did he sell his soul to the devil once more? After all, he was sure Sibelius was the devil, at least in some form. Morrow sighed; if he did not give Sibelius what he wanted, it was likely some other scientist elsewhere would.

  He eyed the ring on Sibelius’ finger; it bore the symbol of a giant serpent that appeared to be swallowing the sun whole. Sibelius is not to be trusted, a voice in his head told him. Against his better judgment, Morrow extended his hand to Sibelius and they shook.

  Sibelius nodded to the man standing guard near the door. “Smith will show you to your room. We start work tomorrow. You won’t regret this, Doctor.”

  Somehow, as Morrow allowed himself to be led out of the room to the second floor, he couldn’t help feeling Sibelius was wrong.

  Chapter Four

  The inside of the Ship Emporium was much smaller than Arlen had expected. On the side walls, two video screens sat projecting ads that shouted things like “Come to Venus for Spring Break!” and “Upload your memories to Enigma.com, get a free OmniLink! (While supplies last).” Arlen stepped into the room. A small podium sat before him, carrying a fingerprint scanner and a keypad. A short bald man approached them.

  “Hello, welcome to John’s Merchant and Warp-Ship Emporium! Kindly place your finger into the scanner for security purposes.”

  Arlen hesitated for a moment; he’d seen many scanners claiming to be for ‘security purposes’ that really took the user’s personal information and created ads tailored specifically for them. More out of politeness than wanting to, Arlen placed his hand on the scanner. Much to his dismay, a computerized voice stated:

  “Burns, Arlen. Most recent purchase history: OmniLink Car Charger, Memory Downloader, Body Change Machine.”

  Damn! Arlen pulled his finger away angrily. The video screen changed to reflect an ad for Memory Downloaders that were shipped directly from the moon colony Triton. Arlen ignored the annoying theme music and began perusing the shop’s selections.

  “Anything specific you’re lookin’ for, son?”

  Arlen recognized that kind of speech; it came from the Lower Lands. Arlen had relatives there whom he hadn’t spoken to in years because of the ideological differences the Lower and Upper Land natives had; most Lower Landers didn’t believe in things such as body switch
ing, cloning, or memory manufacturing, while many Upper Landers defended these techniques and even made their living that way.

  Arlen jumped as if just realizing the man was there. He looked back at the salesman slowly, hoping to give the guy time to forget Arlen had just reacted oddly to him.

  “I’m looking for a warp-ship that’s decent, but not too expensive. Is there maybe like a used one I can try?”

  The man looked around the shop for a moment, and then pointed to a slightly dented copper ship towards the back. He motioned for Arlen to follow as he walked over to it.

  “This baby’s been through Solar Storms and Meteor Showers alike. Used to belong to Dr. Glasse ‘fore he gave it up to pursue writing full-time.”

  Arlen recalled learning about Dr. Glasse. His philosophies on cloning and other similar techniques had made a big impact on the WorldCorp’s leaders. While Arlen had never cracked Dr. Glasse’s books open, he had a great deal of respect for the man’s philosophy.

  “How much?”

  The man chuckled before answering, which Arlen thought might be a sign he couldn’t afford it. Finally, he looked the ship over and pointed to it.

  “I must’ve forgotten to put the sign out. It’s yers for a mere 2,000 creds.”

  Arlen paused to consider the offer a moment. He did have about 1,000 credits left over from last Christmas, but he was also planning on throwing down the 25 credit fee to enter the Starlight Follies. Maybe if he got a loan… The feeling of Centara nudging him in the ribs brought him back to reality.

  “Um, can we put this on layaway? I want to see what my parents think first.”

  “Sure, no problem. I’ll get ya the paperwork.”

  The man went to the backroom, and Centara turned to Arlen, her eyes narrowed in a motherly glare. Arlen was hoping she wouldn’t simply walk back to the ship and strand him here.

  “What?”

  “Are you completely rogue? Mom will never let you have one of these things. She barely likes the idea of us flying at all.”

  Arlen bit his lip. He didn’t much like remembering the hover car accident his father had died in, and while he always felt bad worrying his mother, Arlen felt her fear of flight was somewhat uncalled for.

  “I know. I’m not really gonna ask mom. I just need the bank to give me money so I can…”