The Last Great Dying

Uniques were by design tall, thin and hairless and Demenko never ventured far from the mould. A middle-aged male with a lean white face, his sallow complexion was only accentuated by a pale scalp.

He looked unwell as he followed the approach of Asylum in the on board monitor. The rapid descent through the lunar gravity field only inflamed the tumours in his gut causing him to grimace. His intestines were shot through with tumours, a developing case of what uniques called the Wasting. The doctors said he would need a complete transplant eventually, both small and large intestines, as the tumours were quickly winding their way down to his rectum. In spite of the collapse of the breeding program they assured him there would not be any problem with a donor. His office alone guaranteed him a priority position in the queue however quality was another matter altogether. The Wasting was an insidious infection like a weed. As impossible as it was to detect the cause it was equally impossible to tell where it was going to appear next.

Time was another factor. If he left it too late, another couple of months or so, he couldn’t be guaranteed a programmer to code the procedure. The operation itself was commonplace but the Bureau insisted on a dedicated programmer whenever a high ranking surgeon went under anaesthetic. One of the many layers of security measures associated with being the new Deputy Surgeon of Imbrium. For the time being anyway.

Given the ever-increasing mortality stats he wasn’t expecting a sudden run on demand so he resigned himself to the low level pain and discomfort until he returned to Imbrium. A couple of weeks at most he imagined. By then, he reminded himself, he would be in possession of a cure or at least have a knowledge of how to find it.

The pressure alarm sounded as the outriggers touched down. The shuttle eased down into the landing bay. The sunlight disappeared as the platform sank below the surface and the bay doors closed overhead.

The cargo airlock swivelled shut behind him as he pulled himself down the gangway. Another hatchway opened, the lights came up and he was presented with a long passageway.

He rarely felt comfortable travelling outside Imbrium’s gravity well. G-forces similar to earths were an expensive infrastructure investment though the founding fathers insisted on using the birth planet as a standard. Besides a few other regional cities most of the facilities outside Imbrium could not justify the cost.

Full spectrum lighting running overhead lighted his way. The passage walls were lined with structural insulation plates and inset conduit. The only noise besides the travellator treads was the soft hum of the air recyclers. The strip lights were filtered for the unique eye, made sensitive by a century of underground living. Once he got used to the thin air expelled by the ventilation system the passageway reminded him of any other corridor in Imbrium.

At the end of the travellator a red gatehouse cut him off from the rest of the corridor. It was decked out in armour like a metal-coated plinth. Automated weaponry mounted on rotating barrels identified him as a possible target. The protruding muzzles convened on a point located in the middle of his forehead.

Demenko moved front and centre. “Deputy Surgeon Demenko to see Doctor Gravus,” he said.

Please remove all clothing.

“No,” Demenko responded simply.

The muzzles flexed.

No possessions are permitted beyond this point.

“Where are you Gravus,” Demenko called out to the surrounding walls. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

A panel opened in the distance. Demenko recognised the figure pulling towards him. Gravus was the manager of the breeding program. He was not the candidate Demenko would have chosen, that was Jaeger’s decision. Unsurprisingly, Gravus was part of the director’s extended family.

“I am sorry, Deputy Surgeon, I was expecting someone else from your office. I didn’t realise …”

“I want to see it,” Demenko cut him off abruptly.

“Of course Deputy Surgeon.” Gravus hovered, uncertain what was expected.

“Now.”

The Doctor hurriedly led the way. “I apologise for the delay,” he explained. “Our security uses a near field system to communicate with your ID tag but as the Bureau doesn’t,” Gravus searched for the right word, “avail itself of any interface, and quite rightfully so, our systems failed to recognise you.”

“The rest of Imbrium appears to cope,” Demenko hinted at another possibility.

“A surgeon’s secrets are too confidential to store anywhere outside the workings of his own mind,” Gravus offered by way of a concession.

“We both know my position has no bearing on your security system, Doctor.”

Gravus acknowledged the reproof. The Mill’s security should have been upgraded years ago. Something more secure, more efficient, to reflect the sensitive nature of the program. But there were other demands more pressing which didn’t appear in the public accounts. Gravus was certain Demenko knew about the handouts to the local families but his position prevented him from acting. Corruption was endemic, far beyond the redemption of any one office, even the Office of the Surgeon General.

Gravus took them down a series of long passageways, repeatedly checking behind him. The silence was so unbearable he had to speak.

“Did you know, Deputy, that we keep the makings of up to ten humans in cryo at any one time? We keep the stem cells in banks buried below the facility to protect the biomaterial from surface radiation.”

“I helped commission the design of the facility,” said Demenko. “I am aware of the storage provisions.”

“Of course, Deputy Surgeon.”

Demenko could feel Gravus struggling to summon another point of interest to entertain him. It irritated him when people sought to occupy his time with small talk. He recalled the occasion of their first meeting in Imbrium. Although the two men were roughly the same age Demenko noted the unusual suppleness of the other man’s body, surmising correctly, and as further enquiry later revealed, the good doctor had never seen the inside of an operating theatre in his entire life. He would have everyone believe that his body parts were all original specs. Working in the Mill as the Program Manager meant he had his choice of genetic sequences. No charge of course, no record of withdrawal, no apparent deficit in the accounts, no ripples in the cryo pool of rare stem material. Perks of the job, endorsed and approved by Director Jaeger, himself a regular visitor to the facility.

“Some people think we keep the human specimens in a cataleptic state like the Gunners but nothing could be further from the truth. We have a permanent cohort of ten active samples. When we lose one of them we replace it from cryo, like for like.”

”I’m only interested in one.”

“Of course, Surgeon. The problem is we see the human as a genetic dead end. We don’t think of it as a species in its own right, merely a stepping stone to ours. Now of course with the Wasting, I hope that might change.”

“The human is one step higher than a mutant, nothing more,” Demenko countered, “It is a commodity that we code for our benefit. That is the sum total of its worth.” Demenko turned a pointed gaze directly at the other man. “Is it much longer?”

Gravus had to look away to avoid the piercing stare. He stood back as a partition in the wall dropped away. “Allow me to introduce Number Six,” he said.

Demenko was startled by the appearance of a naked figure standing on the other side of the partition.

“It’s shorter than I imagined.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, not that.”

The muscular body was tightly wrapped in a dusky olive skin. Watchful eyes brooded under tresses of curly black knotted hair tied back in a ponytail. A calmness resting across his shoulders spoke of resignation.

“He looks healthy,” noted Demenko.

“We set a schedule of exercises to maintain his physical health. As you know, microgravity wages a constant war with muscular definition. It is even more so for the human.”

“Can it see me?”

“No but he knows you’re watching. I told him someone very important was coming today.”

“You talk to it?”

“Only through the therapist. It has never seen me, never seen a unique for that matter. It’s part of his conditioning.”

“But it understands?”

“Oh yes. From the very start Mr Gape’s foetal profile displayed complex cerebral development. His gene coding for intelligence was significant, well beyond the norm of the other samples.”

“You gave it a name?”

“His position in the cohort was Number Six but the Lab Techs took to calling him Gape. It just seemed to stick.”

“That’s nice.” Demenko regarded the other man vacantly.

“The samples spend two years in the accelerator tanks. When we take them out they’re partially paralysed for the first couple of weeks, sometimes months. There’s little or no response to neural stimulation. But Mr Gape here was compos mentis almost straight away. Mouth, eyes, even his nostrils, everything was open wide and gapping at the world around him. Everything fascinated his childlike brain.”

“Are you telling me he is aware?”

“I’m sorry Surgeon.” Gravus did not understand the question.

“Is he self-aware? Is he self-conscious? Does he know what he is?”

“What he is?” Gravus was surprised by the question. “We assembled what we believe is a human brain but we don’t know how to make it human. How do you build a human consciousness? How do you build a framework on which to hang memories and perceptions? I don’t know how a unique understands his own uniqueness so how can we expect this creature to understand his humanity.”

“I ordered a human, Doctor, is that one?”

“I believe it is the closest approximation we could achieve.”

“You told Jaeger you could build him a human. That there was enough ancient DNA to build one. Were you correct?”

“Deputy Surgeon, Mr Gape, he is an extrapolation.” Gravus stumbled anxiously through the words. “We assembled him out of almost nothing. All we had were a few strands of code to work with, only a tiny part of the entire human genome. We had to guess at the sequence of over thirty thousand genes that make up his DNA. We had to imagine the sequences that join them together, the evolutionary highways that lead to this point. And then we had to reverse-engineer one hundred and fifty years of unregulated deconstruction.”

“I’m only going to ask you this once, Doctor. Is that a viable host?” The displeasure in Demenko’s voice was alarming.

Gravus looked like he was about to burst into tears. “I’m so sorry. There’s no way of knowing until he becomes infected.”

Demenko was beyond losing his patience now. If it wasn’t for his family ties he would seriously think of putting a bullet through the Doctor’s head. “So what do you know so far?”

Gravus gathered himself together as best he could before answering. “He walks, he talks, he thinks in linear patterns.”

“You’ve just described the basic functions of a Gunner. I’m entrusting the future of the unique species to this creature, I’ll need something more than that to convince the Chamber especially your benefactor, Director Jaeger. Convince me we’re doing the right thing.”

“Quite so, Deputy Surgeon.” Gravus fell silent trying to think of the right words.

“Now, Gravus,” Demenko urged.

“It’s correct to say we use a similar process in the manipulation of genes but we assemble Gunners. We use polymer frames to form the skeleton. We grow the organs in the accelerator and we assemble the finished product into a moulded pattern. The federal gunner program is a manufacturing line. We build high quality machines that learn to survive by themselves.”

“How is he any different?”

“The human genome follows natural selection. Number Six and the other humans are free-formed. The flesh, the skin, the muscles and organs – they all formed naturally. We edited in a select package of protein bundles to assist cell growth but we left the DNA to follow its own set of instructions. It’s amazing really.”

“It’s primitive,” corrected Demenko.

“True, Deputy Surgeon, there is an incomprehensible amount of risk.”

“Risk? What risk? What do you mean? Demenko was suddenly suspicious. Is there something wrong with him?”

“Well, yes. They’ve all got something wrong with them.”

“What’s wrong with this one?”

Gravus took a few seconds to answer. “Humans take a long time to grow. It’s because of the brain. It’s not such a problem in the gunner program, we’re not so concerned about the finished product. But when you free-form a human the issue of energy usage crops up. The human brain drains almost eighty per cent of the energy consumed by the body. It consumes so much that it slows the growth of the rest of the body. The only way to have a human sample ready in the time provided by the Chamber was to vastly increase the dosage of growth hormones and catalysts. The problem now is Number Six is conditioned to rapid growth.

“Is he going to die on me?”

We’ve seen it in other samples. All the samples to be honest,” Gravus corrected. “Aging is corruption. Rapid aging will only accelerate the process. It’s only a matter of time. His DNA will begin to break down. It’s an unavoidable result of accelerated development.”

“How long does he have?”

“Here I would give him six months. I don’t know on earth. It’s impossible to predict the effects of earth’s gravity on his condition. Ideally it should be beneficial, the species did evolve there after all.”

“As long as there is enough time for him to complete his the mission.”

“Yes Surgeon. There’s one more thing,” Gravus added nervously

“Really, just one?” It was like pulling teeth Demenko decided. The whole discussion about humanity and natural selection was nothing more than a rear guard action to cover for what was coming next. A tactical delay to plead his case while all the time presenting the program in a fetching light. The doctor had obviously not wasted his time in the company of Jaeger.

An image appeared beside the open panel. It was a view of a dormitory. There were two rows of beds. On either side Demenko could see the faint outline of four figures beneath the sheets. They were sleeping soundly judging by the snoring on the audio.

“There are inherent problems with all the samples,” said Gravus.

“What kind of problems?”

“Number Six’s awareness of the world around him is growing exponentially. In many ways we struggle to keep up with him.

“What kind of problems,” Demenko snapped.

“Signs of a psychological incoherence.”

“Madness?”

“We know from the gunner program that over time their state of mind deteriorates. Uncontrollable emotions, delusions. It eventually reaches an acute mania which renders them impossible to manage. They become destructive and combative, a real danger to those around them.”

While Gravus was talking something moved. Something in the shadows at the back of a dormitory. There was someone else in the room. Demenko could just make out a small figure moving slowly down the centre aisle. It was edging forward imperceptively, careful not to make a noise. Deft invisible movements. It was Number Six.

“All the samples exhibit a range of psychotic disarray,” Gravus continued. “Symptoms of agitation, compulsion, suspicion, explosive violence.”

“And this one?”

“He shows no signs of psychosis.”

Demenko watched as the figure stole up on the first sleeper. He didn’t know what to expect but it was nothing like he imagined. Number Six held what appeared to be a blade in his right hand. Poised silently he stabbed downwards, the left hand reaching in and covering the sleeper’s mouth. The sleeper shuddered but did not cry out. Number Six withdrew from the dim glow of the side light back into the darkness. The deed was done before Demenko realised it.

“There was a dispute over medication. The inmates call it ‘jack’. It’s a derivative of dopamine, a feel good enhancer. We encourage them to take it but in measured quantities. Somebody broke into the dispensary and stole a month’s supply for the program. We never found out who but we feel certain it was Six.”

“Does he take it?”

“He’s allocated medication along with the rest but he doesn’t take it. It never turns up in his urine sample. The others accused him of stealing their supply. He uses it to barter.”

“What for?”

“Chocolate, water, alcosynth, anything really. A number of attempts have been made on his life as a result. We had to intervene on a number of occasions but not for his protection as you can see.”

Seconds passed and Demenko wondered if Six had left the dorm. Maybe his mission was accomplished or maybe he’d lost his nerve. The thin silhouette reappeared further down the aisle. He was still there, edging cautiously forward

“He learns quickly. Adapts to new and unfamiliar situations. Something we haven’t come across in the other samples. But a higher level of intelligence comes with its own problems. The more complex the behaviour, the greater the vulnerability to disruption. We find the price for a higher IQ is often mental illness.”

Materialising on the other side of the dorm Number Six paused over another bed. The sleeper opened his eyes to see the figure staring down at him. Another downward strike into the chest. A shuddering jolt whipped through the sleeper’s body. He froze for a second then released a sigh.

A third sleeper was stirring, uncertain what had caused him to awake. He looked around the dormitory at the others quietly sleeping. He didn’t hear the figure slip up behind him. He tried to cry out but only succeeded in expelling a gush of blood through the open wound in his throat.