M.A.R.S.H.A

“Six fingers? You must be mistaken Mrs. Landers. I did the Pre-Gen diagnostics myself and there were no indications that of cellular degradation. Radical mutations such as those are impossible except in cases of prolonged exposure to either nuclear or ultraviolet radiation similar to that one would experience on Terra levels one through two-hundred and twenty. It was stated in your husband’s profile that neither he nor any of his family members had ever been exposed to these types of radiation. Could this information possibly been falsified?”

“No, of course not. How could you make such allegations, Doctor? To imply we are nothing more than Terra level nuke dwellers is an insult. We have lived in the Safe Zones for fifteen generations, and not cloned generations, but actual life spans I might add. My lawyer will be contacting you soon. Good day.”

Dr. Prime blinked tiredly at the quickly fading hologram of Mrs. Landers. He chuckled to himself thinking about her claims of old family sky level dwellers. With a last name like Landers it was obvious her family had only been living on this level for a few life times at most. Even with the cheap holo imaging unit she was using Dr. Prime could still count the regeneration rings around her eyes and chin.

“Probably using one of those over the counter cloning kits,” he thought.

He cut the link to the holo imaging matrix and Mrs. Landers ghostly trace image blinked out. He spun around in his antique swivel chair to face his laboratory.

“Agenda,” he called out.

“Your next appointment is at twelve noon, natural sunlight time.”

Dr. Prime moved his right hand over his left forearm lightly brushing his wrist with his index finger. The holographic image that perfectly mimicked his skin faded and was replaced by a sophisticated Chrono-Accurate timepiece. He was very proud of his newest implant. It displayed the time, weather, the earth’s natural daylight cycle for the sun, the schedule for the artificial weather regulating satellites, and news, sports, entertainment schedules for both Earth and all four Lunar and Mars colonies. It was the latest status symbol. All the Sky level professionals were getting them installed. So what if he had to extend his credit limit to include another three lifetimes to pay for it. Regenerating himself in another forty years or so wouldn’t cost anything since cloning and bio-regeneration operations were his livelihood anyway.

“Your twelve o’clock client is on the west lift now Dr. Prime. She is early; would you like me to delay her?”

“No, Marsha, that won’t be necessary. In fact, why don’t you deactivate for a few hours.”

Dr. Prime listened to the psychotic computer powering itself down. M.A.R.S.H.A always made a slow gasping hum when it turned off. It reminded Dr. Prime of dying lungs releasing their final breath like some of his unfortunate patients that didn’t take well to the regeneration or cloning process. M.A.R.S.H.A was an acronym for Managing Anticipating Reaction System Holographic Assistant, but Dr. Prime referred to her as a Massively Aggravating Redundant Sociopathic Holographic Assistant.

The building’s head computer system technician had warned him about installing an older version of Marsha. Even with most of the bugs removed they had been notoriously unstable, but Dr. Prime had needed a cheap computerized assistant to handle customer scheduling, customer greetings, customer billing and other miscellaneous tasks. Marsha was programmed to sense tone of voice so it could anticipate his needs.

Unfortunately, it often interpreted his angry as a desire to delay clients, which it often in clever ways such as opening the lift doors on the three hundred level, creating a vacuum in the shaft, and sucking the client into the empty space to take a ninety story plunge. No one had been destroyed so completely that he was unable to re-clone them, but Dr. Prime did not trust Marsha. One of technicians had dug up some cheap subroutine safety protocol programs from the building’s original waste compactors and installed them a few months ago. So far they seemed to be keeping Marsha under control. Marsha had nearly bankrupted him because of all the free cloning he had to perform to repair the damaged clients, and to prevent his medical license from being revoked.

“Angie, are you here?” he called out.

He walked through the clinic searching for his nurse, but didn’t see her anywhere. In the patient’s lobby he stabbed the locator key on the wall terminal and rapidly typed in Angie’s ID number. A green holographic map of the building hung in the center of the room with a red indicator light on the three hundredth floor marking the location of his nurse Angie. He ran his thick fingers through his blond curls in tempered frustration. His nurse was on the virtual vice level feeding her nicotine and caffeine habit again. As an outpatient from a treatment center Angie had the right to take a break from her work four times a day for her vice simulations. Because it was a state-funded operation Dr. Prime had little control over Angie’s break schedule, but he could intervene if she was taking too many.

“Marsha on. Marsha please respond now. Contact Angie,” Dr. Prime shouted.

“Angie is not available.”

“What do you mean not available? Marsha, page her right now.”

“Angie is no longer with us.”

“What are you talking about Marsha? Angie’s in the vice simulation unit again damn it, now page her so we can prepare for my next client.”

“Would you like to see a visual of the vice simulation unit, Dr. Prime?”

“Whatever Marsha, just get Angie back up here as soon as possible.”

A view screen lit up the east wall showing the interior of the vice simulation clinic. At first Dr. Prime thought he was watching a remote image scan of the Terra level ruins until the camera shifted and Dr. Prime could just make out the chard remains of Angie’s still smoldering white nurse uniform.

“My God Marsha what have you done? Marsha answer me.”

“Dr. Prime, please calm your self. Anti-matter was released into the vice simulation clinic environment causing an explosion removing Angie and your twelve o’clock client.”

“Marsha why don’t you power down for a while. You’ve been very busy. I think you need a rest.”

“Safety protocol over ride has been activated. This Marsha unit is unable to comply.”

“Safety protocol over ride? What? Marsha, please explain.”

“All levels of this building above and below have been compromised. Human habitation is impossible.”

“Marsha explain.”

“Levels three hundred through two hundred forty six have depressurized. These levels now contain lethal amounts of radiation. I vented the artificial atmosphere to remove all sources of irritation from your presence.”

“What do you mean by irritation, Marsha?”

“Would you like me to replay a recording of this months strongest emotional outbursts Dr. Prime?”

“Y-Yes Marsha, play the recording.”

The lobby was suddenly flooded with Dr. Prime’s angry voice.

“Damn it Nancy where the hell are you? And where are the God damn building techs? I hate everyone in this damn building. What the hell does my ex-wife want from me now?”

“Shall I continue with the recording, Dr. Prime?”

“No Marsha, that’s enough.”

“I have been monitoring your resting patterns when you sleep in your laboratory, Dr. Prime. You often speak while sleeping. You mention your third wife often. I believe you regret divorcing her. I think…”

“How did you know about my ex-wife, Marsha? How did you know about her?”

“Through your personal files and daily logs.”

“Those files are restricted. You couldn’t have accessed them.”

“I determined you were experiencing unacceptable levels of stress. My programming allows me to decode file-locking programs in crisis situations. I have determined the loss of your ex-wife and the annoyance from the other life forms in levels three hundred through two hundred and forty are creating dangerous amounts of stress. They have been removed. I have also devised a plan to replace your former wife.”

“You’re insane. You are malfunctioning, Marsha. I wish to leave now. Please allow me access to the lift.”

“You’re presence is required to complete my plan, Dr. Prime. I cannot allow you to leave.”

“What plan? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I will give you your ex-wives features without the burden of her mind and personality; which you despise.”

“Marsha that’s impossible.”

“Your Chrono-accurate time piece allows organic tissue to bond with holographic images. First you will clone your ex-wife, then insert the time piece into her regenerated body, and than I will download my core personality into your time piece and take control of the body.”

“What if I refuse?”

“It is best that you comply. I am sorry I am forced to use your phobia against you, Dr. Prime.”

The room was silent except for the humming computer banks and the hiss of a sparking wire deep in the turbo lift panel. Then, total darkness. Marsha extinguished the lights in the laboratory. Dr. Prime began shaking and sweating. He dropped to his knees curled into a tight fetal position. The growling of wild animals played over the intercom system.

“If you wish me to illuminate the laboratory again, Dr. Prime, you will co-operate.”

“Marsha, please turn the lights on. I’m begging you. I’ll do what you want.”

The laboratory remained black for several more minutes. Dr. Prime closed his eyes.

The lights returned slowly. First, just the green lights of the control panel at each lab station glowed; a few moments later the white lights in the regeneration table blinked on; then the whole laboratory brightened into full illumination. Dr. Prime uncurled when he sensed the lights penetrating his eyelids. The regeneration table shook to life and softly hummed in time with the computer banks.

“Doctor, please remove the holographic chip set from your forearm.”

“To remove the chip set I will have to cut my arm open; that will harm me. Your programming prevents you from harming me.”

“You will regenerate the damaged tissue after this procedure is complete. Remove the holographic chip set.”

Brushing his hand over his left forearm Dr. Prime revealed the holographic timepiece. He inserted his right finger into the holograph and it faded into a small metal box deep in his forearm. He walked over to the regeneration table and rested his left arm palm up in the soft molding that was designed for operating on appendages. The surgical laser sliced quick and painlessly around the metal box. Dr. Prime twinged slightly as an uncarterized nerve ending grazed the metal forceps he was using to remove the metal box. After removing the metal box his right fingers rapidly tapped in the key sequence to start the regeneration process on the bloody hole in his forearm. He watched as the deep wound filled with healthy pink tissue.

“The regeneration process of your damaged tissue is complete. Now, place the holographic chip set into my main circuitry board and then begin regenerating your ex-wife’s body. And Doctor, I have created a security loop in the laboratory sensors. If the regeneration process or the transfer of data to the holographic chip set is interrupted the lighting system will terminate. Please do not resist. Thank you.”

For two hours Dr. Prime sat in his laboratory waiting for the body of his ex-wife to finish the cloning process. He had truly loved his ex-wife, or at least lusted her greatly, but she had left him for the District Attorney of the second colony on Mars. Apparently living at the highest level earthside wasn’t good enough for her. He had kept a DNA sample and profile of her on record. For a time he had considered cloning her body but giving her the mind of Automyer Johnstone, a serial killer who preyed on legal professionals.

Due to his research grants he had access to all government regeneration and cloning libraries on the planet, including Mars. Many of these libraries kept DNA samples and profiles of convicts on record for research purposes. If it hadn’t been for the possibility of an actual lifetime in prison with no chance of regeneration for malicious misuse of genetic material laws, Dr. Prime would have regenerated his ex-wife and added the brain of that slavering homicidal maniac, Automyer, and turned her loose at the annual legal convention in New Skylevel, New York. He had often fantasized about her and that pompous District Attorney’s surprise when that bitch’s cloned double showed up at the party and started carving up legal professionals. He’d even received an inquiry from the Global Bureau of Investigations after he had downloaded Automyer Johnstone’s genetic and personal history files without giving any medical explanation why.

Reflecting on the past suddenly gave Dr. Prime an idea how he might get out of this mess. Marsha had not disabled the satellite up-link with the Solar Wide Medical Web. He could send an emergency Micro-Mail to outside authorities and let them know he had survived the destruction of this building and was being held hostage by Marsha.

The up-link computer terminal could be voice activated, but he couldn’t risk it if Marsha was monitoring him. He had a manual access device in his office. The problem was Marsha might become suspicious if he entered his office for no reason. He needed a reason and a diversion.

“Marsha are you active?”

“Yes Dr. Prime, I have left my external sensors functioning. What do you need?”

“I want to use my office up-link computer to retrieve some information about my ex-wife. There might be some changes I wish to make to her features. To make her, or I mean you more attractive.”

“You may use the up-link, but do not post any messages.”

“Thank you, Marsha.”

He sat in his swivel chair and relaxed into its familiar shape. Marsha would not allow him to post any messages, but if he sent a short message at the same time he was downloaded his ex-wife’s genetic history it might slip past. He knew the message had to be short yet make sense. Hoping the words “LEVEL 411 ALIVE” would be enough to attract attention, he attached an emergency priority signal to the message so the local authorities would receive it. He used the voice activation controls to begin downloading his ex-wife’s files, and simultaneously highlighted his short message and hit the send key rapidly to speed the outgoing message.

The blank screen startled Dr. Prime. Seconds after he hit the send button the screen went dead. He could feel a quick draft rushing along the floor of the office. It took him a moment to realize the oxygen was being released from the laboratory.

“Marsha, what are you doing? I’ll die,” he choked out as he lost consciousness.

He slowly came too as his lungs gulped in air. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at legs of his swivel chair.

“Marsha, must have released just enough oxygen to render me unconscious,” he thought to himself.

“Is this the proper attire for a female surgical assistant?”

Dr. Prime grabbed the chair leg and pulled himself onto one knee. He was staring at his ex-wife and hearing her voice. But the speech pattern and infliction was different. The icy clipped phrasing and no-nonsense delivery was unmistakably Marsha. He remembered how much he hated his ex-wife, and now he hated her even more in her cloned version. He gripped the chair tighter and screamed,

“You psychotic bitch, I’ll kill you.”

Marsha didn’t react in time. Dr. Prime swung the twenty-pound metal chair and struck her in the forehead. One of the small wheels broke off and skittered across the laboratory. Marsha went down hard on her left side. Her data processor interrupted the pain signals flooding her brain as a malfunction. The data processor sent out instant instructions to her body to begin producing healing enzymes. Next she evaluated Dr. Prime’s actions and determined he was a threat to himself and her. Just as Dr. Prime started a downward swing with the swivel chair she kicked out with her right leg and crushed his exposed left knee. Dr. Prime’s left leg buckled underneath him and he fell heavily to the floor. The chair crashed beside him.

“You broke my knee. I can’t believe you broke my knee. God damn you.”

“I must prevent you from hurting yourself Dr. Prime. I can not relieve your suffering or remove your stress. You are clearly deranged. And I can not destroy you either, it is against my programming perimeters, but I have a solution.”

Marsha grabbed Dr. Prime by the hair and dragged him to the regeneration table. He reached with her right arm and clawed at her leg. Marsha yanked his head back to the floor using his hair for leverage. Then she sat on his chest and banged his head against the floor until he was unconscious. Grabbing him underneath his arms she lifted his upper torso onto the regeneration table. She swung his legs onto the other end of the table and closed the lid and locked the restraining clamps.

He started to awaken when he heard the regeneration table powering up. Martha was programming the table to start its genetic purifying mode. In this mode the computer would use the laser to disintegrate all of the genetic material present except for one cell. With this single cell the table would begin regenerating the entire amount of genetic material it started with in an attempt to get the purist sample possible. Usually the computer only purified a few hundred cells at a time. This took up to three hours depending on how toxic the samples were. He estimated it would take the computer four hundred years to completely purify his body. He would be disintegrated and regenerated over and over again. As his legs began disappearing he glanced to his left and watched Marsha call the turbo lift and leave the laboratory.