Complete Atopia Chronicles (2 page)

That was a relief. I guess I knew I wasn’t really having a heart attack, but it was good to hear anyway. The terror had been real enough at the time.

The doctor’s bald pate reflected the overhead panel lighting like a shimmering, sweaty halo above his radiantly clean lab coat. A stethoscope hung uselessly around his neck. He leaned forward over his veneer mahogany desk and clasped his hands, bringing them up to support his chin in what I assumed was his thoughtful pose.

“Are you still smoking?” he asked.

Stupid question.
Of course he knew I was still smoking. This was some kind of tactic to convince me to quit. I hated it when people were manipulative.

“Yes, I am still smoking, but I stay fit.”

He shrugged and shook his head, sensing this was a fight he didn’t want to get into. He looked at his notes.

“Well, this could be fixable via medication,” he suggested, but I cut that short.

“Look doc, thanks, but no thanks, I’m on a strict organic farmaceutical diet,” I explained hotly. “I need to limit the medications.”

Something about him reminded me of the endless string of men my mother had dated after she’d driven my father off. My parents’ relationship had been doomed from the start. Trying to mix a Greek and a Scot was a surefire recipe for disaster.

“Stress and anxiety are the big killers,” explained the doctor. “Olympia, you really have to take care of this.”

They’d had me as an excuse to try and justify their relationship, an excuse that hadn’t worked despite their best attempts to argue and fight their way through it. And with a name like Olympia McIntyre, I’d never felt like I fit in anywhere growing up, least of all at home. I’d taken my mother’s name, Onassis, as an adult. It was the only thing I wanted from her anymore.

“Olympia, are you all right?” asked the doctor. He’d noticed my attention wandering.

“Yes, yes,” I shot back. “There must be something else, what about some more nanobots?”

“Those still use medications,” he explained. “Mostly they’re just delivery systems.”

“So I have to figure this out myself,” I declared, rolling my eyes and shrugging theatrically, “meditation, relaxation...”

What a load of bullshit, I didn’t need to add.

“Yes, that would probably work best in the long term, but I’m not so sure this would work in your case.”

Now it was his turn to shrug, and hopelessly of course. The sheer magnitude of his uselessness almost overpowered me. I sat speechless for a moment while we stared at each other.

“So what are you suggesting then?” I asked, trying to keep whatever process this was moving along. My impatience grew. Why couldn’t he just fix me the way I wanted so I could get on with my life? It was always up to me to fix everything, to come up with all the solutions.

“Look, Olympia, I think we have something perfect for you, but I was just weighing the other options.”

“So?”

I shook my head and waited for his inspiration. He struck another irritatingly thoughtful pose.

“Stress and anxiety are deeply rooted problems in society,” he replied calmly, “while they respond to drugs, these don’t correct the underlying issues. Medical science has found ways to fix most major diseases, but the mind is a tricky thing.”

“I agree, so what are you saying?”

I was about to lose it. How in the hell did this guy get his medical degree? I just wanted to get on with my day and he was launching into some discussion on metaphysics. He adjusted himself in his seat, clearly miffed I hadn’t let him dive off onto whatever tangent he was about to wander off on.

“There is a new synthetic reality system that we’ve been testing with select clients,” he began, raising his hands to fend off my objections, “before you say anything, there are no implants, not really anyway. You’ve already used the delivery nanobots, and this is just one step further.”

I wagged my head slightly. “Okay...”

“All you do is swallow a pill with a glass of water. Nanoscale devices called ‘smarticles’ in the pill diffuse through your body and attach themselves to your neural system. They’re able to modify signals flowing through your neurons…”

“Look, I don’t need the details,” I interrupted, shaking my head again. I hated technical mumbo-jumbo.

He stopped and looked at me before continuing, “Okay, but if you ever decide you don’t like or want it anymore, a simple verbal command deactivates the whole thing and it washes back out of your system and is excreted. It’s as simple as that.”

Excrement. Several ideas linking the good doctor to excrement sprang immediately to mind. He smiled, but now I smiled back. I was excited. I’d suddenly realized what it was he was describing.

“And this has been tested?” I asked.

This must be the new Atopian Cognix system we were pitching at the office. It wasn’t on the market yet, but I knew they were doing highly restricted trials. I brightened up. It looked like someone on top had given me the nod. Maybe I would win the account after all.

“The system has been in clinical trials for years now and is fairly well understood. I can’t give you the brand name, but that shouldn’t make any difference. Does it?”

I was sure he knew I knew what he was talking about, but he had to go through the motions anyway. I played along, knowing that all this would be reviewed by someone at Cognix as soon as I gave my consent.

“No, not really, but if you say it’ll help,” I replied, trying to conceal my glee. I wondered if he would be feeding me any of my own marketing spiel.

“One of the major modern causes of stress and anxiety is advertising.” He paused, knowing I was an advertising executive. “My recommendation is that you should use this system to remove advertising from your environment for a time, see how you feel.”

“Sure, that sounds like a good idea,” I agreed.

He seemed unsure whether I was being sarcastic or not, but could sense my mood lightening. He shrugged slightly.

“Anyway, I’d recommend that you try it out. Should I fill in a prescription for its usage?”

Absolutely you will. “So I’ll have complete control over it?”

“Of course.”

There was a pause while we looked at each other.

“Are you ready?”

“What, now?”

“Yes, now, if you’re ready...”

Another pause, and then I slowly nodded.

He stood, holding a small package in one hand, and then turned to pick up a paper cup that he filled from a small sink behind his desk. Walking around his desk he stood in front of me and leaned back on his desk, handing me the paper cup and a small white tablet.

“Just swallow this. It includes a sedative to help keep you immobile during the initial data gathering session. This isn’t required to activate the system. It’s simply a part of the trial program.”

I took the pill and paper cup from him. He looked me directly in the eye.

“Olympia, do you give your consent to give your personal data to the program?”

Of course I did. I nodded again.

“This includes background personal data, you understand?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“As a beta system, we won’t be able to activate it today. You’ll have to come back later in the week, but we can install it now,” said the doctor.

I took the cup and pill from him and studied them briefly, then popped the pill into my mouth and washed it down.

“Okay so now what?” I demanded, handing the empty cup back to him.

“Follow me,” he replied.

He stood up and led me out of his office and into a smaller room with a human–shaped pod in it. It looked like one of those old tanning beds.

“Now you need to completely undress,” he said.

I quickly and lazily complied. The sedative was already taking hold and my brain had started swimming peacefully. I laid down into the pod and the slightly gooey gel inside it conformed around my body.

“Now just relax.” He lowered the top of the enclosure.

I felt it suction onto me, completely enveloping my body. In a semi–lucid dream state I could remember feeling tiny fingers probing and tickling me, lights and patterns flashing in my eyes and sounds like some kind of hearing test. My muscles twitched as small electric shocks seemed to race back and forth across my body. Sweet and salty liquids washed through my mouth as my nostrils filled with acrid smoke, and the whole thing cycled hot to cold and back again.

I quickly fell asleep, and dreamt of flying above fields of golden daisies, with sunshine filling a perfect golden sky. I dreamt of babies with blue eyes, alive but never living, their blue eyes filling blue seas with blue pain.

4

“OLYMPIA…”

“OLYMPIA,” CAME the voice again.

I was floating, peacefully alone, and some pestering thing had broken the tranquility. My brain tried to ignore it, but then there it was once more, “Olympia?”

I reluctantly opened my eyes to see an angel hovering above me, an angel that strangely reminded me of my cat, Mr. Tweedles. No wait, not an angel, it was a nurse. That’s right. I was back at the doctor’s office getting that thing activated, and they’d sedated me again. I closed my eyes, bringing up a hand to rub them, and then opened them again and sighed heavily.

“Yes?” I responded groggily. Irritably.

“Seems like someone needed a little more sleepy time,” laughed the nurse. “Come on, I’ll get you up and dressed.”

I propped myself up on my elbows and frowned at her. “How long was I out?”

“Hmm...” she considered, “about two hours I’d say. Everything seems to be working perfectly. In fact we’ve just activated the system. Your proxxi will explain everything to you once you get home. I would have woken you sooner but you just seemed so peaceful.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for that,” I said, swinging my legs off the side of the pod as I sat up, pushing off her attempts to handle me. Shrugging, she handed me my clothes.

“I can take it from here, thank you very much,” I stated flatly and aggressively, waving her away.

She took a look at me and narrowed her eyes slightly, but then her smile returned and she shrugged again and began to walk out.

“I’m going to bring you in to speak to the doctor before you leave okay? He needs to have a final word,” she said as she went through the door.

I finished getting dressed and walked out into the hallway. The nurse was watching me carefully from a distance, studying me. Silly cow. I stopped at the doctor’s office and half hung my head inside, making sure he could sense my need to get a move on.

“So how do you feel?” he asked, looking up from whatever he was doing. “Please, come in.”

“No, I’m fine. I mean, I just want to get going. This was supposed to be under an hour, I’ve got things to do,” I complained. “So just tell me quick, what do I need to know?”

He paused.

“You have a very powerful new tool at your disposal, just be careful with it, and don’t activate any of the distributed consciousness features yet.”

“Distributed consciousness,” I snorted, looking back towards the nurse who’d positioned herself behind me in the hallway. I bet she had no idea what we were talking about. “Where do they get these ideas?”

“If you want to talk with me,” continued the doctor, and I looked back towards him, “just say my name and you will be instantly patched through to me, anytime of the day or night.”

With some effort, I managed to disengage my disgust from the sweaty reflection off his head.

“Great,” I replied impatiently. “Got it.”

“When you get home today and feel ready, just say ‘pssi instructions’ and you will get all the information you need from your new proxxi.”

“Perfect.” I felt almost cheerful, sensing an imminent exit. “I’ll be in touch.”

With the tiniest of waves I bid him goodbye, and marched off down the hallway and out the door, purposely ignoring the nurse who was watching me all the way out.

The air outside was crisp and fresh, and for the first time in ages I felt a surge of optimism. I decided to walk myself home from the clinic. I could use a breath of fresh air.

I stopped to light up a cigarette.

I’d decided that I hadn’t made a mistake with Alex. I really needed my space, to be alone for a while. He never supported or defended me anyway. In fact, my whole life it had always been up to me to defend my own place. Nobody ever helped me with anything.

Fall was in fully now, and the leaves on the trees lining the streets were turning beautiful shades of crimson and yellow. The air had a refreshing edge. I strode energetically along the sidewalks, enjoying myself, looking at everything around me.

I didn’t feel any different, and part of me doubted that whatever they had done would work as well as it was billed, despite that I was personally marketing it all. The crowds on the Upper East Side were dense but navigable, and billboards and holograms cluttered the view, but it still made for a nice walk. Eventually, I made my way home to the personal oasis of my brownstone walk–up.

Mr. Tweedles sprang at me as I entered, and began purring loudly as he rubbed himself against my pant leg while I closed the door and arranged my things. The cat had been my friend Mary’s idea, to provide some companionship. I’d grown fond of him, but the thing was just so needy. I shooed him away, hating the thought of all the hair he was depositing on me with each purring caress.

I immediately made for the bottle of wine on my kitchen counter that I’d opened yesterday and poured myself a glass. Collapsing onto my couch, I luxuriated in the taste of the earthy Tempranillo.

Sighing, I realized I had to review the installation instructions for my new toy. I might as well get it over with, but I had no patience for dealing with anything technical.

Rummaging around in my purse, I found a cigarette. I’d already gone through another pack. With all the technological wizardry you’d think they could invent an endless cigarette. I shook my head and crumpled up the empty cardboard packaging and threw it onto the table.

“Pssi instructions,” I called out, lighting up my smoke.

“System activated,” I heard from a voice that seemed to be inside my head. “I will now appear on the chair beside you. Please do not be alarmed.”