BEYOND EXTINCTION - Even the concept of truth is a lie Page 6

  "Stop! Stop!" Alice shrieks at the mob but Jack goes straight for the men with the flames. He swings the garden stake across hands holding something alight and ready to throw.

  "Bastard!" shouts a man. "Numie lover!" hollers a second, a face he recognizes from one of the pubs. Then they are on him, punching, kicking, pushing. He goes down, grunts in agony as a boot drives into his stomach, another glancing off his face.

  "This is it," Jack thinks as another kick connects with his head and a fourth man takes careful aim at his face. But it is not the end for him. Troopers from the Center leap from vans and attack the mob with shattering violence. The fighting is over in minutes, though some of the mob will be in the hospital for months.

  "I thought they were going to kill you," says Alice, holding him, trying to help him up, but he collapses.

  *

  It is afternoon in Galen's working office and, unaccountably emotional, he is seething as he scan-reads the reports. Aapeli, one of the two eldest children, has been kept in Dorchester Numan Hospital and Aleksi is staying there with him. Three other children and Daleksi have been treated and released. Jack, kept in the village hospital overnight, is about to be sent home by the Google ambulance delivery service. Unless Ali collects him.

  Galen turns his angry blank face on Mikos, the bruised and cut researcher who replaced Patti. Ali looks on, still shaken by the night's events, still determined to collect Jack regardless of Galen's demand for her to stay at the Center.

  "In the event of a mass action by local humans," he tells Mikos, "your role is to inform me, Ali or Security before it happens – and continue your emotions research by going with the mob. As an observer. At the back. By the time you informed me, it was too late to protect our people. If it was not for Jack Janus, Aleksi and his family could have been burned to death."

  Mikos sits and waits. He knows he got it wrong. He knows that the collection of extraordinarily powerful data on emotions had gripped him, controlled him with an insatiable greed to get it all recorded. Even today, he cannot shake the feeling that it would have been worth letting the attack go on for the sake of the insights into the emotions of the bitter clash.

  "His report is illuminating," says Ali, her calm voice gently feeding a positive to Galen in his own style of thinking.

  "Yes," says Galen curtly, offering no easy words even for Ali. "Exceptional data already processed through the ministry to everyone working on the numan2 problem."

  "This was Mikos's first assignment. He made mistakes but his work is beyond even the levels achieved by Patti."

  "His mistakes are your mistakes too. You did not prepare him adequately. You were taking your human animal pleasures with Jack while he faced his first big test alone. Bestiality is despicable, but neglect of duty is unforgivable."

  Ali recoils as if she has been hit. She is stunned by Galen's venom and, almost as much, by her rising temper. Mikos stares at the floor.

  "Schedule a context briefing for Mikos," says Galen. "What is happening in the federated states of Britain, Europe and the Americas. Plus the climate change projections of declining land availability, and food shortages as they exacerbate the numan2 rebellion. And the security reports on human attacks against numan families. I want him to go beyond the filtered data of university and our own induction courses."

  Galen, making new rules as he goes, holds her with his gaze. He tells her in his quiet, steel-rod voice, "Mikos is our leading emotions geneticist now. He needs to understand the danger we are facing. The situation is getting more violent and less predictable every day. It has reached us here in the safest part of the country. He is on the frontline. We cannot afford mistakes like last night."

  *

  Chapter 4

  It is the end of the line. No jobs. Not even cleaning numan lavatories or walking their dogs. Seems having my work card marked by the spookpolice is enough to frighten off any employer. And Paula will be sixteen in a couple of months. Another spookpolice problem to face.

  Mark sits in his living room, worrying about the future, worrying about Paula. What am I going to do with her?

  Her story shocks him. She was sentenced with her family to work on the Welsh tea plantations four years ago when her father was caught stealing vegetables to feed their family. Her mother and father were sent to one center, she does not know where, and she, her sister and baby brother were sent to a plantation in the south.

  Mark shudders at the thought. He cannot make sense of it. She is convinced her sister and brother were stolen by the numans.

  The soft click of Paula's key in the front door draws his attention, and then she is in, dripping water off the raincoat he had searched out and bought for her.

  "I'm so pleased to be home, Mark!"

  "I have some hot food for you," he says cheerfully, and she flings her bony body onto him and kisses his lips.

  How can I break it to her? He gets her food and listens with half an ear to her happy chatter as she wolfs down her meal. She is going to be devastated when I tell her what I have done.

  "What has happened to your old home, the one where you were living when you met me?" he asks.

  "You're not going to kick me out, are you, Mark?" she panics.

  "No, of course not," he says. "It's just that I don't know what's going to happen."

  "We can just live together and be happy. You do like me, don't you? I try to do everything you like."

  "Yes, Paula, of course I like you. It's very nice living with you."

  "Good," she says, which sounds like a closing of the subject.

  Mark tries to work out how to move the conversation on. I can't upset her by causing a scene but I can't let this go on. I'm already in trouble with the spookpolice and I can't afford to be caught with an underage work-illegal. I'm even open to being accused of immorally living off her earnings. With my savings gone, I soon will be living off her. FedOz is the only option.

  "Paula," he says suddenly, unthinking, the words tumbling out, "have you ever thought about emigrating to FedOz?"

  "No," she replies in a tone that suggests he is crazy. "All the children know they will be killed if they go to FedOz."

  "Numans don't kill children."

  "Yes they do! All the children know that they do! I am frightened when I am working at The Plantation. You should see how that numie bastard eyeballs me! He wants to kill me! I don't trust him."

  "Okay, Paula," he says. "It's just that I haven't got much money left and I can't get a job. I might have to emigrate. At least, that way I'll be able to start a new life."

  "No! They'll kill you. Stay here with me. What will I do if you go?"

  Mark, trapped by conflict as usual, withdraws into himself. I'll tell her later that I've signed on for an emigration cruise – and that I've agreed to sell the house through a numan agent.

  "We can be very happy together," she says, cuddling him.

  *

  "I've got my own personal guards here in the hospital – two of your fine young men from the Center – and they tell me that troopers are watching my cottage," Jack glumly tells Alice.

  "We take care of our own," says Alice. Especially you.

  She is facing away from the rest of the ward at the crumbling, underequipped Abbotsford Village Human Hospital, with its six beds, part-time staff and a local nickname of "the vet's surgery." The sooner I get him out of here and home, the better.

  Half an hour later three armed troopers salute Alice as she drives Jack through the gates to his cottage. "Welcome home, sir," says Hubert, the door, as he lets them into the cottage.

  "I'll make you some tea," Alice says.

  "The servant can bring me a gin and tonic," Jack tries, knowing he is on a loser with Alice watching what he drinks.

  "Coffee, maybe," rules Alice. "You're on medication."

  "Okay."

  "And I want to make it myself. So I know how much caffeine goes into it."

  "Okay," he repeats, but this time there is a smile in his voi
ce. It has been a long time since anyone has wanted to look after him.

  When she returns with his coffee, she finds him predictably restless with his mediamat on the table next to him. "Did you get up and get that?" she frowns.

  "No. Honest. It was here on the table. Really. That coffee smells wonderful."

  She laughs. She loves the way he uses language and tones. The way he admits his guilt by using words to deny it in a tone to make her laugh by admitting it. This is a skill numans never possess. I must write it for the Center. Even if writing about Jack does make me feel guilty.

  "Aleksi's wives and children want to call in to see you later. When they get back from visiting Aapeli at the hospital. Do you feel up to it?"

  "Yes, of course," he says. "They must be feeling terrible today."

  "They're okay. Shaken up. Minor injuries."

  She pulls her chair nearer him, reaching over with her coffee to share his table. "You like Aleksi and his family, don't you? You hate the numan takeover of the human world but you risked your life for Aleksi and his family."

  "The complexities of our human nature," he replies, a truth within a quip.

  "Yes, I guess so. Lucky for the Aleksis." He's in no mood to rest and feel sorry for himself. He is itching to do something with that eager brain of his. "I think Max needs a run." They both grin because Max has heard and is standing expectantly, a silly look splitting his face.

  "I think he agrees," says Jack, roughing up Max's head.

  "Jack, I'm taking the rest of the day off to help you. If you don't feel like resting, why don't we relax here or in the garden and talk? If you can talk with your face injuries. You can outline your extinction argument for me and I can fill you in with what I know about numan expansionism and social practices."

  "Sounds perfect. I love romantic afternoons."

  *

  Patti takes stock of her DickTick alpha cabin. A huge bed, a settee and two armchairs, a low table, a dining table with two chairs, a mediamat and video area blending into the mahogany and fabric finish of the decor, a free refrigerated bar, a better shower room than her home in Abbotsford, and a balcony with sun loungers. Surely the Director had a hand in getting this for me.

  Even so, she is uneasy. The passengers are happy, very sure they have made the right choice, eager for the party cruise and their new lives in FedOz. The crew are jolly, helpful, considerate, everything they should be. But... There's another "but" every time I talk to one of the crew.

  They look and act human, but she can see the numan training, she can sense the numan thought processes. She has done too much work with emotions in her career to be unaware of the emotions around her.

  There's something not quite right with this cruise.

  *

  Galen is in his office suite and enjoying himself in his scatterball way. He has not played mediamat games since college but scatterball remains a metaphor for his chosen way of working. They can project as many balls as they like at me and I'll project them back into high-score targets.

  His body is as still as a dead human animal after dissection, but his mind is sparkling. Today he must assess the latest numan2 research and write a report for the World Council. Data from violence around the numan2 world needs to be factored into current research programs. He must watch Ali after slipping her a DNA update boosting her emotional and sexual responses to Jack, which will produce useful data on the animal roots of humans and numans. And soon I'll move my Galen-rebuild7 here from my Wight Island military lab – Ali can help supervise and evaluate.

  The Galen-rebuild7 experiment grips his mind the most. He has stripped down a numan4 to its genetic rootstock, rebuilt it with his own DNA, and then installed his own memories into its redundant genetic strings. The earlier rebuilds failed because I used too much cloning. This rebuild, on good rootstock, will correct earlier problems. I can examine how my memories, emotions and intellect work together without the instability plaguing the earlier trials.

  His thoughtful stillness breaks and he snaps into mediamat action. The mat is alive and set to show results on an office screen.

  "Problem," he tells the mediamat. "Numan2 populations through the world are nearing saturation. Extrapolate latest data and project date of saturation by region."

  He leaves off the patronizing computer voice installed by the ministry technicians and reads the screen: UK Federation, saturation July 2078; Combined European Federations, October 2078; North American Federation, November 2078; South American Federations, February 2079.

  "Professor Galen, the figures from other federated territories around the world are broadly similar," intones the system, its artificial intelligence overruling Galen to use the system's voice. "I have sent the complete list to your intray. You will see some exceptions."

  Galen ignores the voice. This is no time to argue with the system's artificial intelligence. It's as obstinate as the idiots in the military.

  "Now calculate the food supply in your quoted regions in the next six months and give it as a percentage of population demand," he orders. "Use the standard government assessment of minimum numan2 nutritional needs for the calculation."

  There is barely a flicker of a pause as the answer comes up on screen: "Food supply in those regions will average ninety-four percent of the minimum level required."

  Galen sits back. So, we have reached the crunch point for resources. Available food six percentage points under minimum demand. That is not all, is it? The big picture hides the areas where there is not enough food now. The flashpoints of conflict. Not just human against numan. But, for the first time, numan against numan. All competing to survive.

  A black resolve armors his mind – but, also, a new emotion sidles in: fear of the future. I should not feel emotions. What is happening to me? Has the numan2 emotions anomaly spread to me too?

  Another possibility slaps him: could his emotional instability be linked to his carefully calculated risk in experimenting on himself? Possible, but not likely. And besides, I need to take risks. If I can upgrade myself to numan6, the numan2 problem can be solved. I will be able to recalculate DNA upgrades in my head and do away with simulations.

  *

  Light is fading, the cooler hundred-degree humidity of evening embracing Alice and Jack as they sleep in garden chairs. Max nudges Alice with his cold wet nose.

  "What's the matter, Max?" she asks sleepily, shifting in the reclining chair and seeing Jack sprawled in the other one. "Wake Jack. He loves you."

  Max is not silly. He knows Jack loves him but he also knows Alice is more likely to get up and feed him. "Okay, Max," she sighs. "Food time. I know."

  She pushes herself from the chair, touches Jack's shoulder, and sees him wince from a bruise she has not discovered. "Sorry! Max is hungry. I'm going to feed him."

  By the time she and Max get into the kitchen, the servant is trundling out with iced lemon water. "So Jack's awake," she tells Max, who is more interested in his food.

  Ten minutes later, she is back with Jack. "No word from Baleksi about calling in to see us?" asks Jack. She shakes her head and he adds, "Maybe they are going straight home. If she hasn't called by 7:30, what about a slow walk with Max for a drink and something to eat at the UpSpirits pub?"

  "Sounds good, as long as you keep off alcohol. Do you feel like talking now?"

  "Yes. I'm fine. What shall we talk about?"

  "Your book. If I'm going to risk being beheaded in the Tower of London for giving you secret information, I should at least know why." She waits for his reaction. She cannot tell him that Galen has messaged her permission to reveal more figures and told her to do it urgently. "Get him to finish the book by the end of the month," he had instructed. Why?

  "I don't want to get you—"

  "You won't get me in trouble," she breaks in. "Galen wants you to have the latest population figures. He says that if you finish your book this month, he'll get reviews placed in every worthwhile publication. It will save you a fortune in paying
potential readers per download in the hope of getting it read. And the government will sit up if Galen thinks it's interesting."

  "Why would Galen do that? He hates you being with me."

  She is expecting this. "A reward, a kindness to thank you for saving Aleksi and his family. Now, come on, before Max hounds us out for his walk – tell me about your book."

  "Look," he says, "we are facing an existential crisis, but we can't change. Our animal natures are hard-wired into us. We see, we want. Mating to survive has turned into rampant irresponsible overpopulation and dead-end obsessions with non-reproductive sex and everything that can be hooked onto it: from selling car tires to doctorate research; from obsessions with personal looks to massive time wasting in fantasy and pursuing impossible dreams."

  Jack stops, reloads. He looks at her, bites his lip, gets a soft-edge version into his mind to protect her from shock. "Human animal nature functions on sex, greed, dominance and pleasure. It has always been that way. This is why civilization after civilization has grown and then collapsed. Those genetic imperatives build empires but, once built, they cannot be stopped and they descend into dead-end pleasure, overconsumption, conflict and exploitation by the strongest. Every successful civilization is rotting from the moment of its dominance. Today's crisis is just bigger: instead of another human civilization growing to its moment of dominance, the numans are replacing us – they are eating us from the inside."

  "This is the central argument of your book? It's too obvious to be a big hit, Jack. You need my help with how numans are doing it."

  She waits, sensing his stress. She fiddles with her voice recorder, making sure he knows she is recording everything. He knows I will make a transcript and give it to Galen. This is the unspoken pact for Galen's help.

  She needs to add something, something that will get him even more emotional and stimulate him to reveal his deepest thoughts. "I read a report recently that human focus on animal appetites, principally sex and food, accounts for seventy-five percent of human individuals' time. Related spending consumed eighty-eight percent of private, commercial and human governmental funds before numan administrators took control."