Mercury - Part 18

Part 18 – People of Earth

CONTROL 194, 08/01/2023
(Two figures sit across from each other at a table. One is a middle-aged man, the other is a human girl who appears to be about six years old.)
RESEARCH ASSISTANT: "Hello, Terra. How are you feeling today? Do you feel able to do some experiments with us today?"
TERRA: "I'm tired, but I think I can. Who am I doing this against?"
RA: "You're being tested against Mercury."
T: "Oh. I don't like Mercury's experiments. They're too hard. Maybe test me against Venus? Or Uranus?"
RA: "I know they're hard. They are supposed to be. We don't expect you to do as well as it. Just as well as you can. You usually do better than Mercury, anyways."
T: "It's not trying very hard. I feel bad for Mercury."
RA: "Why? Mercury is intentionally difficult."
T: "Nobody likes it."
RA: "Of course not. It disrupts for the sake of disrupting."
T: "It's really smart, but really sad. That's what Uranus says. It just-" (coughs a few times)
RA: "Are you okay, Terra?" (gets up from his chair to check on Terra)
T: (strained) "It just wants to feel free." (coughs violently)
RA: "Let's finish this later, maybe after some rest..." (reaches to turn the camera off)
***
I sat at the controls of my spaceship, strapped in and staring blankly at the viewer as my ship automatically piloted itself back to Luna. I had referred Daniel and Lewis to Nova Seven's establishment should they ever need to flee their home, since she had ready transportation and was pretty amenable to the request. After tying up those loose ends, Samara and I got off planet as quickly as possible. I just had to monitor the autopilot to make sure we wouldn't get into any collisions (though that was actually pretty unlikely, given how dreadfully empty space is).
"So, Samara," I said, breaking the relaxed silence that had been ongoing for awhile into our trip through space, likely because we were still both calming down from our experience on Mars, "I didn't see any Red Triangle people back in the Designer Genes facility."
She raised her brow for just a moment before looking over at me, "No? I must have been mistaken, then."
I chuckled softly and shook my head, glancing over for just a moment before returning my eyes to the viewer, "I think you told a little fib, that's what I think."
"Did you think that maybe you were supposed to be the Watcher because you're good at it? Here's some advice, Darryl: You're a pro, so do what you're pro at. It was very sweet of you to worry about me. It just wasn't best for the mission."
I nodded at her. I felt a little bit ashamed of myself for having decided with my emotions instead of my reason. "Sorry for that. I never would have normally made that mistake..." I said, my eyes flicking towards her.
She shook her head and reached to touch my cheek lightly with the back of her hand, "I'm just glad to be finished there. It had a really creepy feel to it."
I nodded at that, though the building wasn't any creepier to me than any other industry, and I wondered what was underlying Samara's discomfort. I let the silence linger for a little while, mulling it over, before asking, "That Erikson guy, he seemed to think you were someone. What was that about?"
Samara pulled her hand slowly away from softly stroking my cheek and put her hands together close to her chest, "Mercury, that's what he called me. Mercury is..." she sighed and offered a weak shrug, "a relic, someone from the distant past, someone irrelevant to the world now. She's dead. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
I looked at her for a few seconds, nodded and reached over to rub her shoulder softly, "Yeah, I think I do."
She looked down at my hand for a couple of moments and said, "When we get back to Luna, after we're done at that soup and sandwich place you're so looking forward to, I'll come over and help you clean up your apartment."
***
LUNA NEWS REPORT 10/11/2068
(An androgynous ocelot recom of fifty years of age, though appearing to be the age of twenty five or so, is standing in front of a podium on a stage wearing a white dress shirt, suspenders and a tie. In the background, sitting on a chair, is an androgynous looking cheetah recom of the same age and apparent age, wearing a pair of black slacks and a purple blouse.)
NEPTUNE: "Hello, and thank you everyone for coming to see me speak in these troubling times. There will be more hardship in the years to come, but I sincerely believe that this too will subside. As you all know, since you're here or watching this, I've just recently been elected into a position on the Lunar Council, a position that some say I am too extreme for, too radical. And too fuzzy, perhaps. (Some laughs from the crowd) But as per my election, mine is a voice of the people of Luna, one voice of many. I am optimistic that a positive future can await us all. This speech may seem unusual, since it is not going to be addressed to the people who elected me and I will instead be talking to some other people that we should all have in mind."
NEPTUNE: (turns to look directly at the camera, and speaks the first three words very emphatically) "People of Earth! I do not speak to you as the poet or the playwright. I do not speak to you as the slave or the statesman. I do not speak to you as a worker, a founder, a husband or a builder. I do not speak to you in any way that you may have ever recognized me. I speak to you today as an equal."
(The crowd cheers loudly. The camera pans over the crowd of mostly recoms. The camera focuses back on Neptune as the cheer dies down enough for him to speak)
NEPTUNE: (emphatically, again) "People of Earth! These are trying times for us here but they are even more trying for you. We sympathize with your struggle and we wish for the future to be once again bright. And that is why I am offering advice to you today. There is still time for you, like there is time for us, to build long, prosperous lives, to create a world that our children will want to be a part of and that we can be proud of. There is still time, but I fear that it will trickle away and fade into nothingness. You are fighting a war which has been brewing for a long time, this is the third world war and I fear that when it is done there will be no more world left, only a radioactive wasteland. The weapons have elevated from your guns and your planes to chemicals and biological agents and then onto nuclear technology. Your Ogres have failed, your Dragons slain. The stakes are now higher than ever and the game is impossible to win by anyone who dares to play."
NEPTUNE: "People of Earth! I stand before you as a testament to the life creating powers that you possess, but this is a power that has been used and abused for naught but tyranny! Recombinants and humans alike have experienced the worst with your latest war, whether it is the reluctant sons and daughters of humans who must take to the battlefield or it is my people, the sons and daughters of humanity itself who have their wills stripped from them and are re-imagined as killers and monsters. People of Earth! I stand before you to tell you this: Make your peace or become but a history lesson in the future of your colonies. Stop playing your deadly game of posturing, politics and religion. Not even your space colonies will be able to be your saviours by the time you are done. I do not want to look back and remember how you made this choice for an Apocalypse War."
(The crowd roars with cheering.)
***
We arrived back in Errol Olne's shop, right where we first received our mission, after finishing the cleanup of my apartment. It took such a long time. I never thought it was possible to clean a home so thoroughly, but Samara's discerning eye didn't allow her to leave any grime untouched. We had put all of our information on a password protected data stick, since that was the most compact and secure way to do it. Thankfully, Olne's back room was still clean from our last visit. I didn't want to do any more cleaning or even watch Samara do any cleaning anymore. We both sat, patiently waiting for the clock to tick down to our exact meeting time.
"Wait for it," said Samara, as the minute hand clicked to indicate that there was just sixty seconds to our meeting time. She had one leg crossed over the other, the scent of lemon from her candy easy to pick up in the air. Only a few seconds later, I heard footsteps approaching and the door swung open.
"Thank you for being here," said Errol Olne as he passed through the doorway and stood before us. "I can only assume that your mission was a success." He put a file he was carrying under his arm down on his desk and leaned back to examine us, waiting for one of us to speak.
I reached to hand him the data stick and said, "It was successful, yes. Tammy managed to figure out the encryption key based on all the info that we picked up. We have the Sol Series files in duplicate. We have also fished out some other info from the Designer Genes computer, and our price for that is negotiable, but the information isn't going to be free. We will provide you a full mission log, though."
Olne listened for a few moments and then nodded his head, "Noted. We'll discuss the further information when we come to that." He pulled a small black PDA from the inside of his suit jacket and connected the data stick to it. He dragged a finger across the screen, moving it in a way that would have made no sense to anyone not viewing the display. He paused for a moment, letting his finger hovering over the screen. "Neptune's journal..." he said, something that sounded almost like wonderment creeping into his voice. Errol looked up at us and said, "You found his journal? This is more than I ever would have expected you to obtain. Why do they have this?" He shook his head and opened the file on his desk, flipping through the pages.
"You two did good work. I'll review these to make sure there aren't any gaps, and I'll pay you the expected fee, and whatever extra I decide I want access to," said Errol. He pulled out a few pages, each of which was inside heavy plastic sheet protectors. "I will consider you both for any future work that I need done."
I nodded slowly and glanced over to Samara, and then said to Errol Olne, "There was one problem. The presence of one human, Erikson was his name-"
"Erikson?" repeated Errol Olne, "What did he look like?" In response to this question, Samara loaded up a picture of him from her PDA and flipped it so that Olne could see. He nodded and said, "Interesting. I'm surprised he's still alive. He must be over two hundred years old by now..."
"Two hundred?" I repeated, while Samara quietly returned her device into a pocket in the vest she was wearing. "How is that even possible? As far as I read, humans were lucky to reach even half that age! I just thought he was just crazy."
I looked over to Samara for another moment or two. She was being so silent. I wondered idly what she might have been thinking about.
Cutting off my thoughts, though, Olne answered, "Back before the Apocalypse War and the end of old Earth, they developed a treatment that effectively halted aging. It was developed for the rich and the important, people they would want to keep around or people who could afford it. It's called UAG-7. There were a few humans who received the treatment and fled Earth before the Apocalypse wars. I had always thought that it only slowed apparent aging, but it looks like Erikson hasn't aged a day from when he disappeared. He helped develop the formula. I wonder..." The ocelot recom trailed off and shook his head. "It's no matter." He picked up the protected sheets and then asked, "How did you deal with him?"
Samara shrugged and said, "I basically stuck him with a date rape drug with slight retroactive amnesia properties and put him to bed. Check the details in the mission log."
He seemed thoughtful for a few moments and said, "I'll look over it. But before we part ways, I think there's something I think you should have Tamara." He handed over the sheets to her and she stared at them for a couple of moments. At that distance I could also make out what was on the page, but it was a jumble of letters, impossible to pronounce much less understand.
She traced a claw lightly along the surface of the plastic and nodded slowly. "Thank you."
"You can keep waiting in here for a bit, come out in about ten minutes so that it doesn't look like we're leaving together," said Errol as he headed towards the door.
We both nodded and looked back at the clock as Olne left the room. We waited for about a minute before striking up our own conversation. "So," I asked, "what are those? Looks like gibberish to me."
Sam tucked them under her arm and said, "Letters from an old friend. I'll tell you more about them when we get back to your place."
"Sure," I said, allowing her a bit of secrecy but still intensely curious, "I'm just excited that I've made it onto Errol Olne's shortlist." I hesitated for a moment and added, "How about you?"
"Nah," said Samara, smiling slightly, "I think I'm just going to check out art school for a little while..."
***
SECURITY CAMERA 1, BIO-TECH, 01/02/2025, 5:11 PM
(A six-year old cheetah recom sits in front of the camera wearing a bio-tech jumpsuit and a damaged headset. There appears to be some blood on its face. In the background, there are a couple of motionless slumped over bodies and a six-year old rabbit recom in blue Bio-Tech pyjamas sits against the wall by the exit door)
SATURN: (speaking emotionlessly) "Marker One is slightly damaged and dazed. Marker Two is destroyed. Marker Three is heavily damaged. Marker Four is damaged. Marker Five is intact. Marker Six is intact. Marker Seven is intact. One, Three, Four and Seven are together gathering supplies, security clearance and transport. Five and Six are giving a report of the final part of the game."
URANUS: (looks up from its sitting place) "Mars is dead."
SATURN: (eyes flick down) "Five and Six are now waiting for One, Three, Four and Seven to return. End game."
(Approximate one minute passes silently. A six-year old snow leopard recom peeks in.) "Come on, I just need to steal the security footage, and we're out of here. Don't you two wonder what it looks like out there? Come on!" (Mercury ducks back out.)
(Uranus stands up slowly, and Saturn rights itself. They both walk out of the door.)
***
Eleven months after we had met, I attended the production of the play Spade at the Cephalon Institute of Arts. Samara easily made it into the school, and she was playing the female lead in the play. I sat in the front row, and I admit that I think I had more butterflies in my stomach than she did as I watched her performance on the stage. She looked lovely, her voice was incredible and most importantly she seemed to be in her zone. Her presence on stage made it clear that this was the place she was truly meant to be. As the final curtain closed and the applause started to sound, I stood up and headed towards the backstage area.
One of the security personnel for the show, a tall bear recom, stopped me and said, "Hey, you can't go back there."
I shook my head and said, "I've got to get back there to talk to Tamara. It's important." He eyed me for a couple of moments and I said, "Really. It's urgent."
He sighed and shrugged, letting me by. It was always easy to forget how lax security can be at these university events compared to the security one encounters doing corporate espionage on Martian industry. I walked quickly down the corridor until I saw Samara, dressed up in the colourful but faded clothes of Spade's female protagonist. She spotted me out of the corner of her eye and raised a brow at me, "Darryl? What are you doing back here? I told you I'd meet up with you in the lobby."
In my line of work, you have to live life in the time you have. "Sorry, I couldn't wait, not after seeing you up there." You just never know how much there might be left. I knew it was kind of corny, but it was something I wanted to do. I reached into my pocket and said, "I have something for you."
She narrowed her eyes slightly and watched me suspiciously, "Is it a message? Or a letter?"
I shook my head and got down on one knee. "More like a proposal." Her eyes went wide as I produced the ring box. I glanced around to make sure nobody was listening and asked, "Samara Samuel Olmer, will you marry me?"
She stared at me for a few moments, seemingly unsure of what to say, before answering, "Yes. This is unexpected but... but yes!"
All in all, I think that went rather well.