Returning to Eden

Since Mary had announced her pregnancy, grandma took up knitting the old-fashioned way (she spent most of the time dropping stitches and cursing). She also did crosswords with Alfie and read from the collection of actual books left in the apartment, rather than a virtual scroll or a screen. She deduced that civilizations from the past had something rather rich that was missing from the AI world. Among the books were pregnancy books that Martha had lent to Mary, who was doing her best to avoid looking at them. She was afraid that learning about natural pregnancy and birth might terrify her more than she already was. Grandma had tried to encourage her, but her advice had fallen on deaf ears.

Mary had so far endured morning sickness that seemed to last all day, heartburn after every meal, excessive urination and irritating foot cramps that woke her when she slept. She didn’t think she could bear to learn about what else she might have to go through. Every time they went along to another physics class, her waist had grown some more. She had thought that this would excite her, considering how long she had waited to become a mother, but here there were no artificial wombs where she could see her baby grow and there were no scans either. She had no way of knowing if her baby was okay and a grappling fear that if they were discovered, the authorities would destroy her and her visible pregnancy. What with grandma and her knitting, Martha and her books and Jon and his over-enthusiasm for impending fatherhood no matter the danger, she found herself longing for the luxury of a bathroom, somewhere she could shut herself away for a relaxing soak and forget all her worries.

As she walked back from the truly horrid communal toilet (the sixth visit that morning), she found grandma still knitting and Jon reading a book of baby names.

“We should call him something really classic”, said Jon, as she entered the room, “Something biblical, like Soloman or Gabriel. Do you know, Solomon means peaceful? That would be perfect.”

Mary wrinkled up her nose at the suggestions, still trying not to gag at the unsavory wiff that had permeated the toilet block.

“Gabriel is my gynaecologist, I really couldn’t...and Solomon? C’mon!...what if she’s a girl, anyway?”

“My son isn’t a girl”, said Jon, smiling cheekily.

“Well”, Grandma piped up, “I’m knitting for both eventualities.”

She had managed to make a rather misshapen cardigan in pink and was now unravelling something that was blue.

“You could have two”, she teased, “What about Carlyn? That means ‘she has her freedom’ - very fitting for the circumstances, or you could call her Lily after me.”

Mary sighed, went into her bedroom and shut the door.

Grandma and Jon looked at each other.

“What’s wrong with her?” Grandma asked.

“Search me”, shrugged Jon, “This must be the pregnancy hormones I’ve been told about.”

At the University

In the several weeks since he had been there, Jude had integrated himself fully into university life. Just like with the police academy, he found the genetics course challenging and was only just managing to keep up, but he was well liked and had already gained the reputation of being the loudest, most wild person at student parties. Now, Damian Diabolik had told him, he must make his move to glean some proper intel. To do this he’d have to fake cancer. The force had given him false papers from the Ministry of Health, stating that he had untreatable cancer and ordering him to go to the hospice for removal of his microchip. The real ministry had done nothing of the sort, but the papers looked authentic enough to pass for genuine ones.

Cancer was still common in the AI age. While gene therapy had eradicated the majority of cases, there was still a large (and growing) number of cases of cancer that developed around the site where microchips were implanted. Even if therapy healed the problem, the cancer would normally come back when another microchip was inserted. After bitter past experience, the Ministry of Health now simply issued euthanasia orders rather than spending money on people who could not tolerate microchips. There was no place for such people in society. To exist without a microchip was not only illegal, it was also impossible. Without one, you could not buy food, travel or enter any buildings including your own home.

In preparation for his role as terminally ill cancer patient, Jude had drastically reduced the amount he ate in order to look pale and gaunt. He was hungry most of the time but found this only added to the realism of his act. If he lacked concentration due to hunger, he could blame it on illness. Today he sat outside Joshua Lord’s office, attempting to look upset, his fake hospice order crumpled in his hand.

“Come through, Levi”, Joshua gestured warmly, inviting him in.

Jude made his way inside, looking around him at the many electronic certificates and accolades that adorned the walls. Joshua was clearly a distinguished professor. Among the certificates were old oil paintings depicting beautiful scenery. This seemed oddly out of place. Joshua saw him looking at the paintings.

“Ah yes, my colleague and friend was a history professor, so some of his tastes rubbed off on me.”

“Was?”enquired Jude, his police officer brain going into interview mode, “Did he get a new job?”

Joshua didn’t answer, but smiled and clasped his hands together.

“So, you wanted to see me? I noticed you are having difficulty focusing in class? How are you finding university life?”

Jude sighed heavily and paused for the dramatic effect.

“The uni is great and everyone has been so kind”, he said, “But I’m going to have to leave.”

“Oh?” Joshua looked surprised, “I know you have been struggling to keep up, but you show great promise. I’m sure I can organise a mentor for you to help you catch up.”

“No”, Jude looked down and then dabbed his eyes, feigning a tear. Doing his best to appear choked up, he passed his Ministry of Health letter across the desk.

Joshua picked it up and looked it over.

“Oh, my goodness, Levi...I’m so sorry!”

Jude looked up, concerned that his eyes weren’t red.

“I’ve only got a week to live, I can’t believe it.”

Joshua studied his student’s face with compassion and returned the letter to him.

“And is that what you want? To go to the hospice?”

Jude’s heart began to race. Was this the moment he had been waiting for? He noticed there was no computer in Joshua’s office and he was relieved. At least it wouldn’t pick up his thoughts.

His palms were clammy from nerves.

“Of course I don’t want to go, but I am ordered to. Cancer usually returns, I am told.”

The silence that followed was palpable. Then Joshua spoke.

“If you don’t want to die, there is another way. I know a doctor who has been very successful in treating cancer, I could put you in touch?”

Jude was on the edge of his seat in anticipation.

“I am ordered to go to the hospice”, he repeated, with an air of defeat. He considered that acting may have been a good choice of career, had he not entered the police force.

“I can help you”, Joshua reinforced, “get you somewhere safe where you can be treated. If you are interested, we’d have to make the arrangements within the next day or two. Unfortunately, it means you won’t be able to continue the genetics course but I’m sure due to the seriousness of the situation, that’s neither here nor there.”

Later that day, Jude made his way back to his flat, an up town one bedroom loft, where he uploaded information about his encounter with Joshua to the constabulary’s computer system. This included a sound file from a recording device he had hidden in his clothing.

Yannis Rathmore called him back via video link on his TV set.

“Good work so far, MacDougal!”, he barked, “DCI Diabolik has instructed me to tell you that we aren’t making an arrest yet until we have more intel. Go along with whatever Joshua Lord tells you to do and update him each evening. If there comes a point where you ‘disappear’, you probably will not be able to get information to us without being noticed, so please hold off until the absolute last moment, where we will come in to make arrests. This is important, hold off even if you are off radar for weeks. We want as many people in this illegal operation as possible, to close it down forever, so just blend in as much as you can and learn as much as you can before you alert us.”

Jude gave Rathmore the thumbs up. Finally he was being given the kind of responsibility he had craved for years. He thought of the 30,000 silver credits they owed him for each day and realised he was already an exceedingly rich man. His loft was on trend for a single man in the city, with minimal furnishings and chrome fixtures, smart controlled heating, lighting and water, plus a bed you could tidy away into the wall at the push of a button. He had a small balcony with artificial plants, somewhere he could look out at the hustle and bustle of people and robots as they went about their day. He had tried to bring women back to his loft and thought the balcony would be an attractive place to share a glass of wine, but he never really seemed to hit it off with any of them, or they would make an excuse to leave. His place certainly wasn’t an embarrassment, although it wasn’t the most expensive pad you could get. He could only assume, then, that he was embarrassment to them. With all the money he would be paid on completion of his mission, he could get a lake house with a cinema room, swimming pools and the latest self-drive sports car. He hoped that would make him more desirable to the opposite sex and he might, at last, meet the girl of his dreams.

At the Colliery Classroom

The colony students sat in a circle on their beanbags. Even the elderly were expected to today. Instead of sitting in their armchairs, Grandma and Alfie had full body beanbags that they were told they could lie on if sitting was too painful. As Grandma was a yoga guru, it didn’t bother her. She’d only sat in her armchair before because Alfie found it easier to sit in one and ever since they’d met, she had never wanted to be apart from him. Now they lay on the floor next to each other and she began to fantasize about marrying the man.

Mary shuffled about uncomfortably on her beanbag, wondering why the seniors would need full body beanbags for this session and wishing that she as a pregnant woman could have one too. When Lysander entered the classroom, they all discovered why.

“Good morning”, he smiled, “Today we are going to learn meditative techniques to alter our levels of consciousness. At higher levels of consciousness you will begin to have access to other plains of existence.”

A few people gave him eye rolls so he coughed and continued.

“There are certain people who have been excluded from this class because they are still very sceptical and they will need to study quantum physics further before they can progress. If there’s anyone here who feels like that, you have the option to go back to your apartment and engage in more reading.”

Most of the students quickly looked at the floor and remained quiet, not wanting to be sent out. Alfie sat up and raised his hand.

“Erm, excuse me, how is it we can access other existences by meditation?”

“Think of radio waves”, said Lysander, “If you turn the dial on an old fashioned radio, you will get one radio station, but if you turn the dial to another position you get another station. At the original position you cannot hear the second station, but it nonetheless exists. Meditation relaxes the mind and body so that you can hear/see the other station.”

Martha raised her hand.

“What about little John, here? We can learn to meditate but babies can’t. How do I get to take him with me?”

Lysander glanced at the baby with a look of pride in his eyes.

“Babies and young children are already open to the other channels as their rational mind and scepticism has not formed yet. They are pure love and they will go wherever the parent goes. Older ones may need some instruction but they are still more accepting than an adult.”

The door creaked and in walked a man that the students had never met before, with masses of curly blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. He was the tallest man that Mary had ever seen. She guessed he must have been seven foot, he surpassed Lysander who was very tall himself. Like Lysander, he had a warm glow about him and when he moved, no foot steps could be heard. He seemed to almost glide. He was dressed in a long frock coat and trousers set that seemed very dated and out of place. He carried with him an equally enormous harp.

Lysander welcomed him in.

“This, ladies and gentlemen, is Dalphon, and he is from the Ministry of Music. He has come here today to provide the music for our meditation session.”

Dalphon was an odd name to go with an odd character but when he began to play, the beautiful angelic sounds that burst forth from the instrument were nothing like Mary had ever heard before. She didn’t even know that any instrument was capable of creating such rapturous sound. As she sat against her beanbag, listening to Lysander counting down and his instructions for focused breathing, the blissful music seemed to make her feel as if she were drifting away on a bed of stars. It was such an intense feeling, she felt like crying.

At the end of the session, after they had been instructed to open their eyes, they sat or lay in a relaxed contentment, basking in the positive energy. Lysander spoke once more.

“Before you all retire to your rooms, I have an announcement to make. This afternoon we will be welcoming a new member to our community. His name is Levi Jones. Unfortunately he has cancer and was due to be executed so we are his safe house. Please do what you can to help him feel at home.”

He left the room and Dalphon began hauling his harp away. Jon approached him, offering some assistance as it looked so bulky and difficult.

“That music was outstanding, Dalphon”, he said, “Where did you learn to play like that?”

Dalphon beamed brighter than his glow.

“Actually, my full name is Sandalphon, but that’s a bit of a mouthful so I prefer Dalphon.”

Sandalphon? Jon cast his mind back to his religious history texts.

“Wasn’t that the name of the Archangel of Music?” he enquired, “The archangel of Music, Poetry and Prayer?”

Of course both poetry and prayer were banned as either frivolous or fanatical, so he had learned about them through books that he was supposed to have burnt.

Dalphon paused as if considering what to say. Then he awkwardly smiled and replied with a single word.

“Yes.”

“Wow!”, said Jon, “Your parents were very creative! I shall have to suggest something like that to Mary, we’re expecting, you see.”

Dalphon smiled again, almost like a naughty child, and the two men hefted the huge harp through the door.

Later that Day

The rumble of the shaft lift could be heard in the far distance as a large group of people, Mary included, waited in the foyer to greet the new arrival. Peter, the Guardian of the Gate, entered some time later, with a rather scruffy, small man following behind.

“Everyone, this is Levi.”

Jude squinted to readjust his eyes to the lamp light and took in a sharp intake of breath as he gazed around him at the vast corridors, the extensive decoration and the sophistication of the place. It was much larger than he had anticipated and more well thought out. They had obviously been here for years. The nanobots in his brain absorbed all the imagery he was seeing and he hoped that later he would be able to upload these images to a computer to show the department what he was seeing. Cameras were no longer necessary because of this, but here, underground and with no computer access, he would have to store them in his memory files and wait.

Martha stepped forward with some keys in her hand.

“Hello, I’m Martha, I’m here to show you around and show you to your quarters.”

He looked at the baby in her arms and then around at another woman who was clearly pregnant. Were these people actually having children? Non-GM children without a cryogenics agency? He averted his stare from Mary’s abdomen and tried to suppress a shudder.

Lysander Lord, who normally disappeared after class, was lurking in the corner, looking solemn. His normally bright glow had dimmed slightly. Rather uncharacteristically he looked coldly and wearily upon Jude.

“Are you quite well? We heard you have cancer and you look as if you’re shivering. Perhaps you would like to see the doctor after you have settled in?”

Jude looked around at him and felt instantly unnerved but he wasn’t sure why. The strange man who had addressed him felt unsettling to him, as if he could see through him and knew who he really was. He emanated an out of place feeling of love, but also pity and sadness. Jude couldn’t understand why he was picking up on these emotions. He looked at his feet.

“Yes thank you, sir, I would like to see a doctor.”

He had nothing to fear from medical exams of course, since Damian Diabolik had injected him with HCG, the human pregnancy hormone, as well as colouring the skin around his microchip site and his chest a horrible grey colour. The presence of higher quantities of HCG in men indicated cancer and his semi-permanent make up gave him the appearance of having tumours too. It was the perfect ruse.

Martha patted his arm.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your cancer, but you’ll find the help invaluable here. We grow our own raw food and maybe we can arrange for you to get some sea air too? We’ll have you fit in no time!”

He nodded and tried to look appreciative.

“We’ve also paired you with a mentor who has successfully overcome cancer. We thought you would find this useful.”

A buxom firey red head in her mid-twenties stepped forward to shake his hand. Her hair was vivid and full, she had freckles on her cheeks and a warm smile. Jude momentarily forgot he was a police officer as he looked upon this fine specimen of a woman. She looked so healthy and full of life that it was hard to imagine that she had had cancer. She didn’t look like a criminal, either. Then Jude privately scolded himself, as he knew from his limited experience that criminals came in all shapes and sizes.

“I’m Aurora”, she introduced herself, “It means sunrise, you know. Anyway, I got cancer around my microchip, like you, so I got the death warrant. Who wants that at 24? So I came here and they fed me up on good raw food and I had trips to the seafront to breathe in the sea air. Gabriel excised the cancer for me and removed my chip and you’d never know now!”

She proudly showed her wrist, which bore a scar but no sign of cancer.

His mind was working overtime. She had just told him she had been outdoors to the sea front? He wondered how on earth they weren’t caught, but if he could get outdoors too it would provide him with the opportunity to use his mobile phone to contact DCI Diabolik. He had a generic mobile phone hidden in his clothing for this purpose but hadn’t yet formulated a plan of how he would use it.

As he followed Martha to his new living quarters and Aurora chatted alongside him, he was surprised to feel the slight pang of guilt. Aurora was a friendly woman, and beautiful too. Everyone had treated him with kindness. Then he shook his head, determined to see off the feeling. Sentiment wasn’t going to pay him or give him a promotion.

When they were out of earshot, Mary turned to her husband and said

“I don’t know what it is, but I don’t have a good feeling about him.”

At that moment she felt her baby move for the first time, as if to concur.