The SubVersion Complex, Chapter Four

Here is the fourth chapter of The SubVersion Complex. Enjoy and leave your comments below!
 
This book is intended for a more mature audience, so be advised. 

Missed Chapter 3? Click here! 

╗ FOUR ╚

THE LOVER DRUG

Perry's lay almost directly west of the city, tucked away in the midst of the older town of Sterling and sharing a home with a multi-acre strip mall that had once dominated the area's shopping district. The heavy traffic here had long since died away along with the elderly population, and most of the nearby establishments sported only boarded up windows and vacancy signs. Perry's singled itself out as an oddity, therefore, by sitting almost on the edge of the inhabited city but not quite falling off into the no-man's-land that constituted the old suburbs and countryside.

Anna had heard the horror stories along with everyone else: the outer suburbs and the country were to be avoided at all costs. Central Admin issued warnings concerning the city's dark edges along with the daily newscasts. Every day some new tale of suburban or countryside woe: a horrible public suicide by fire, a murderer on the loose, some crackpot who had somehow acquired a gun or other weapon and was killing people just for the fun of it. The last of these was by far the most widespread. Anna personally knew two people who had been killed by these crazies. “Bored killers,” the police called them, and they popped up everywhere. Nobody could figure out why exactly, just one day the random person would snap and start killing. The most frightening thing was the rapidly increasing number of people that snapped.

Those warnings, and those stories, made up the bulk of the local news. No wonder everyone crowded into the cities to escape. Crowding closer to the mother hen that was Central Admin and its promises of safety.

Perry's thrived somehow, though, right on the penumbra of order and chaos. Maybe the universal taste for alcohol brought people together in a way that other things did not. Maybe a touch of class in a decaying world gave people hope for the future. Whatever the reason, people came, people drank, and people liked. And Perry's thrived.

The place was only a third full, it only being a Thursday night, and the usual crowd sat idly at different tables or at the long curved mahogany bar that formed the convergence point for the entire floorplan. A couple of lonely businessmen sat by themselves at one half of the bar and a gaggle of women they were too afraid to talk to sat at the other half giggling to themselves. A lesbian couple occupied a dark corner in the back, and in the front at their own table sat Anna and Jesse.

In a tinkle of crystal and expensive brandy, they touched glasses together and toasted her promotion. Anna gazed into the translucent brown liquid in front of her for a long moment before shrugging, taking the glass and upending it into her mouth in one gulp. Jesse stared at her in disbelief.

“This stuff is expensive!” he protested. “And since when did you start drinking like that?”

“Just proves you were not paying attention all those times I drank at home,” Anna replied, setting the glass down on the table with a satisfactory clack. The brandy burned an exquisite trail down her throat and into her stomach, causing her to glow. Her cheeks were flushed, she knew, and the rest of her body would soon follow. Probably not a good idea to get drunk with Jesse around, but tonight she didn't really care.

Jesse leaned across the table. “So, if you're working for Central Admin, does that mean you'll be getting a gun?” he asked.

Anna's brow furrowed. She understood the question even through the growing alcoholic haze but it took several seconds for her to formulate her thoughts. A gun? Her? “I-I don't know,” she said uncertainly, regarding her empty glass with a vacant stare. “Officer Holloway and Officer Garnham wore them. But they said I'd be working with another wing of Central Admin, so I don't know.”

Jesse sighed and leaned back. “Somehow I think working with computers and 'transfer protocols' doesn't exactly put a target on your back. Not sure why you'd need a gun.”

More like 'Not sure why they'd let me have a gun,' Anna thought ruefully. She had heard enough of the news to know she wanted the protection of a gun. But for years firearms had been illegal if one didn't work for the government.

She motioned to the bartender for another tumbler of brandy, and when it arrived she sipped it rather than throw it back. It was good brandy, and she quietly rejoiced that he was the one paying for it. Served him right. She licked her sticky lips and looked up, and noticed that Jesse was staring at her. Or rather, his eyes were aimed lower than her face, and she recalled through her increasing buzz that she had worn her little black dress tonight. His gaze was firmly and obviously affixed to her plunging neckline and was not going anywhere.

She shifted in her seat, half-consciously crossing her sparsely covered legs with vague embarrassment. As stupid as it was, turning Jesse on in increasingly obvious and pandering ways seemed to be the only exciting thing left in her sexual arsenal these days, but even this felt wrong. She knew going out tonight was a mistake, and she racked her brain for a good subject of conversation. Abruptly the image of Mr. Vickers materialized in her mind's eye and the whole uncomfortable exchange she had shared with him came back as well.

“I had a talk with Mr. Vickers when I got home,” she said.

Jesse's eyes shifted reluctantly back to her face and he chuckled. “Some stupid moralization again?”

“Yes,” Anna replied, the recollection filling her with vexation and anger. “The 'devil's work,' he called it. Some stupid shit about the Versions and human dignity and manufacturing children.”

Jesse laughed out loud and took another swallow of his brandy. “That's rich!” he barked in his humor. “What the hell does he think it was like before HomoGen came along? This planet was a crawling carpet of people without dignity.” He bent close to her across the small table. “We're the good guys, Anna. The responsible ones. Ha, if he's so old he should remember how bad it was back during the overpopulation period!”

Anna frowned and remained silent for a moment, a disturbing thought crossing her fuzzy mind. She tapped her glass with her fingernail. “He was alive then, we weren't. All we know about the overpopulation period we've been told. Told by others.”

Jesse cocked his head. “So?”

“So I just wonder...” she trailed off. The words and the thought died simultaneously and she was left with a bad taste in her mouth. She took a quick swig of her drink to compensate.

Jesse eyed her warily. “Don't tell me you're turning skeptic now. You know the history is solid: the bodies, the pictures. My old case worker's family had to help clean up that cesspool. They told me some nasty stories about it. Rumor had it their whole town devoured itself for lack of space. Be grateful we've moved beyond the worst.” He laughed again. “I prefer Perry's food to human flesh any day.” His joke so tickled his tipsy brain that he sat chuckling to himself for an uncomfortably long moment.

Anna didn't share his jollity. Her own drunken thoughts had drifted again to something the old man had said. A tear glistened in the corner of her eye. “He brought up my parents.”

“Who? Mr. Vickers?”

“Yeah. I could have wrung his neck,” she blurted, her lip beginning to tremble. “I don't bring up his wife, why does he have a right to bring up my parents?”

“Aw, do you want to talk about it?” Jesse asked in a concerned tone. He slid his chair over next to Anna and she pressed her face into his shoulder.

“He can go to hell for all I care,” she sobbed. “I won't miss him. In fact, I'd trade him for my parents any day of the week.”

Jesse was silent. He had been an orphan for as long as he could remember and the thought of parents did little for him. “Well, if it hadn't been...that, it would have been the geriatric exam for your parents. They'd already be turning sixty-five and going to a home anyways.”

“You're a real comfort,” Anna replied bitterly into his shoulder. “The worst thing is, I'm already halfway to sixty-five. Someday I'll be found unfit. Unloved. Have I really done anything worth noting yet to justify keeping me here longer?”

Jesse chuckled and put a hand on her bare thigh. “Worth noting? Probably. And you are not unloved as long as I'm around, baby. Sixty-five is a long way off yet, enjoy the ride while it lasts. Speaking of enjoyable rides...”

Anna pulled away from his shoulder and cast him a foul look through tear-and-mascara-stained eyes. Then the look melted away as desperation possessed her. “My house tonight,” she demanded forcefully, grabbing her coat and turning for the door without waiting for Jesse to follow. He got the hint, hurriedly paid the bill and followed her out to the car.

But all that night, even while making vigorous and empty love to her empty man, the conversation with Mr. Vickers haunted her. However, her drunk mind eventually faltered and spiraled, and the day's proceedings and Jesse's body above her disappeared into a black hole of nothingness.

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

An insistent electronic beep echoed through her subconscious and Anna mentally groped her way toward it, beating away the ethereal visions of the night with clumsy hands and heaving chest. Light filled her room, burnt her eyes, knocked hard against her brain. Her temples pounded and her skin glistened with sweat. It was morning, and a horrible hangover gripped her.

She rolled over painfully and grabbed her commex to silence its infernal beeping. The words Doc Appt blinked cheerfully on the screen. In a sudden rush, she remembered Holloway's warning about her fertility appointment and realized she had set her alarm for it during her inebriated ride home last night; she had done it even in the midst of Jesse's crude petting and heavy breathing. It took a moment for her to wonder why she operated better drunk than sober. A bad sign. Turning into an alcoholic like her parents.

Damn, not my parents again.

Shoving the memories aside, she pulled a bottle of pills from the bedside table and tossed two into her mouth. The lozenges dissolved in an invigorating fizz on her tongue and the drugs began working immediately. Sitting up, the nausea only briefly assaulted her stomach before sinking sullenly into the background. The pounding in her head subsided and she turned around to see if Jesse was still there.

He was not. The imprint of his body remained in her bedclothes, though, and the debris of last night's indulgence lay scattered randomly about the room. Anna blinked and grimaced. It must have been fun; she couldn't quite remember. Although if the soreness between her legs was to be believed, he had had the lion's share of said fun. She dressed quickly in a comfortable sweater and slacks and walked into the bathroom to fix her hair, and was immediately assaulted by the stench of Jesse's cologne. Swearing to herself, she grabbed a hair clip and exited the house as quickly as she could manage, shoved the whole episode from last night out of her mind, and grumbled her way into her car.

During the entire drive she wondered why the joy of yesterday's announcement failed to register the same with her today. The euphoria was gone and all that was left was the fear of the unknown. She had had a brief glance at the schedule Officer Garnham had given her and it looked grueling: the orientation lasted two weeks and ranged all over the spectrum of intensive activity. However, the item that stuck out the most from her cursory scan of the schedule was at the very beginning of the list. It simply said “09:00 to 12:00 Monday @CATC, Level 2. Bring hearing and eye protection.” Now that the alcohol had worn away from last night she had a sneaking suspicion of what it might mean, but she dared not speculate about it even to herself.

The car pulled up into the parking lot of the Becker Clinic exactly five minutes before her appointment time, and Anna hopped out and rushed madly for the door. They were sticklers for patients being on time, these clinicians, and the punishment for violating that inviolable rule was to run the gauntlet of stares from the other patients as one made one's way to the back of the line. Therefore, Anna picked up her pace and attempted to take the porch step in stride. The attempt failed, her foot caught on the edge and she fell sprawling onto the concrete. Pain seared through her shins and hands and up one elbow; she cried out in pain and tried to stand.

From out of nowhere a pair of hands appeared and grasped her under one arm. Big, powerful hands, pulling her back to her feet in one motion. She blinked through her pain and looked up to see who it was that had helped her. It was a man; a very tall man, wiry and broad-shouldered, with mid-length dark hair sprouting from under a cap and heavy stubble on his chin. He smiled at her as he set her back on her feet and his dimpled face crinkled pleasantly around his sunglasses.

Anna blinked again and suddenly felt shy. “Thank you...”

“No problem at all,” the man replied. His voice was raspy and just as pleasant as his smile. “You might want to slow down just a bit. Although,” he chuckled, motioning to the doctor's office, “for a couple of skinned hands and knees you certainly did pick the right place to fall.”

Anna laughed and winced simultaneously, gingerly rubbing her arm. The man held his hands out to her, as if to catch her if she fell again. “You're sure you're all right?” he asked with some concern. Anna nodded hesitantly.

“I think so,” she replied. She was on the verge of asking his name but the urgency of the pending appointment shut her up. Instead, she smiled a genuine smile at him. “I really have to get inside. I'm sorry.”

“By all means,” the man said, grabbing the door handle from where he was standing and pulling it open. Only then did Anna realize how long his arms were. She thanked him and limped inside to the reception counter to confirm that she was signed in for that day. The receptionist confirmed her name on the list and silently waved Anna towards the nearest exam room door. With a nod of appreciation Anna slipped into the exam room and shut the door behind her.

It smelt clinical. Probes and lights hung on their respective racks and hypodermic needles crowded a jar on the table nearby. She hopped up onto the exam table and felt the paper crinkle under her. A generic print of an ocean stared at her from its cheap frame on the opposite wall, and a small computer sat idly on the table.

After a soft knock on the door a woman entered, wearing a long white coat and smiling widely when she saw her patient. Her face was pensive and petite; her eyes, skin, and hair all dark. A stethoscope hung around her shoulders and a tablet was in her hand. A plastic nameplate clipped to her breast pocket read Dr. Becker Criste. “Annalise! Good to see you again! What has it been, six months?”

Anna laughed and swung her legs from the table like a child. She liked Dr. Criste; the little woman almost made this semi-annual visit pleasant. “I was on time this time.”

Dr. Criste chuckled. “That's good. Although I'm guessing you had some help being so this time.” Anna's embarrassed smile was all the affirmation needed and the doctor laughed. “It's no matter, everyone needs the help every once in a while.” She pulled a small blood tester from her pocket and sat down close to her patient. “I am going to try to make this quick this time, if that's all right with you. I have so many other patients to see today it's not even funny.”

Anna sat still as Dr. Criste touched the device to her arm and pressed the button. There was a barely audible puff and a pinprick of pain and it was done. The results of the test began to rush across the screen of the computer on the table and Dr. Criste wheeled her rolling chair over to have a better look. The look turned into a longer look, and a frown crossed her face. Anna frowned as well and craned her neck to see the data.

“What's wrong?”

Dr. Criste turned and looked seriously at Anna. “You like to cut things close, don't you?” she said cryptically.

Anna was confused. “Cut what close?” she ventured.

“From the looks of it, you've had sex three times just this week.”

Anna groaned. “I'm sorry, I keep forgetting.”

Dr. Criste sighed and gave Anna a pout. “Anna, we talked about this. Sex in the last one or two weeks of your injection cycle is dangerous. You're at the outermost limits of its protection. I don't want to see my favorite patient catch the bug. You got lucky this time, it looks like. But please, please don't do it again.”

Anna's spirits sank. “I'm sorry, I really am. Can we schedule any less than six months at a time to make up for it?” She knew that the clinic could not, for health reasons but more importantly because they would never get to all their patients otherwise.

Dr. Criste confirmed her suspicions with a shake of the head. “No, honey, sorry. Six months to the day, that's how it goes.” She rose from her seat. “Ready for your shot of Lover Drug?”

“Not really, but who ever is?” Anna replied, attempting mirth. Dr. Criste's smile returned briefly and she pulled a vial from her other pocket and took a needle from the jar on the table. The label on the vial read “AnnexEstros.” The lifeblood of the new responsible generation, it was the most powerful contraceptive/contra-STD drug on the planet and Anna had been dosing on it since puberty. She held out her arm, which was duly swabbed with alcohol and pierced with the long hypodermic needle. With one long push of the plunger the pale blue fluid entered her bloodstream and she felt the familiar tingling in her extremities that was characteristic of the drug. Slight dizziness made her vision blur for a minute or two, then cleared up and left her feeling normal.

She smiled and hopped down from the table. “Anything else, Doctor?”

Dr. Criste sighed. “That's all, Miss McLean. And remember two things. The first: no sex for at least a day until the drug is thoroughly distributed again.”

“And the second?”

“The second is we need to grab a coffee at some point and just chat,” was the laughing reply. “Now scoot!”

Anna exited the exam room in better spirits than when she had entered and flitted lightly to the front door. She suddenly recalled the mystery man that had picked her up and her heart skipped a beat. Just the half-minute they had been together she had started to like him. She paused for a moment, then burst outside and glanced around in the futile hope that he was still hanging around. As she expected, he was nowhere to be seen. She sighed and climbed back into her car, trying not to speculate too deeply about who he might be.

As she pulled out of the parking lot she failed to notice a much older vehicle pull in and begin to follow at some distance behind her. Behind the wheel was the mystery man.

Read Chapter 5 here!

The SubVersion Complex, Chapter Three

Here is the draft version of Chapter Three of The SubVersion Complex. As always, this is for mature readers so read at your discretion. Enjoy!
 
 Miss Chapter 2? Click here!

╗ THREE ╚

THE OFFER

Two Central Admin personnel stood waiting in the doorway behind Jesse, a pair of the most completely opposite people Anna had ever seen: on the left, a towering and obese man with a severely receding hairline and a cheerful smile; on the right, a short and spindly woman sporting an unruly shock of dyed-blonde hair and a frozen expression. One radiated warmth, the other cold; like an inviting campfire standing next to a glacier. In each of their right hands they carried tablet commexes and, as Anna recovered her composure, she noticed both wore sidearms strapped to their belts.

“We are not interrupting an aural-dosing session, are we?” the man remarked in a pleasantly deep voice. “I saw the headphones and I just assumed.” Anna blushed in deep embarrassment at the suggestion and stood up to greet him properly. The man stepped forward and held out his hand to her. “I am Officer Sam Holloway. Good to meet you, Miss McLean.”

Anna shook his hand vigorously, a little too vigorously whilst cringing inwardly at the awful first impression she had made. “Good to meet you, Officer Holloway,” she replied. “And just so you know, I am not an aural-head. I just do music.”

Mr. Holloway split open in laughter as he released her hand. “We know that already, your file says nothing about you being an aural-head. It was a joke, Miss McLean, a joke,” he said reassuringly. “We wouldn't hold it against you even if you did, since it's legal. Although,” he added, leaning in conspiratorially, “I've been told one should never try the heavier stuff. It has been known to induce seizures.”

Anna failed to see the implied humor in the remark. Her own cousin had endured a seizure during an aural-dosing session and had not been the same person since. However, she decided it would be best to leave the subject alone and she turned to the woman and held out her hand. The woman responded with her own hand and the two shook awkwardly.

“I am Officer Terry Garnham,” the woman said frigidly. “Please, let us sit and get to business.”

They all sat down, and the two Central Admin officers set up their tablets on the table in silence. Anna noticed Jesse fidgeting next to her in his chair and she cast him a dirty look to shut him up. He failed to get the hint, however, and Anna rolled her eyes in frustration. Thankfully Mr. Holloway was ready quickly and he leaned forward from across the table. “Shall we begin, then?” He held out his hand to Jesse. “The reports, if you please, Mr. Atkins.”

Jesse produced the e-paper sheet and Mr. Holloway took it from him with a strange solemnity, tapping it to zoom in on the text. He pulled out a pair of old-fashioned glasses and perched them on the end of his nose, but it was clear he was not really reading the paper.

“I am glad to see HomoGen's willingness to produce its own reports for the Government, even though Central Admin already had a copy,” Officer Holloway remarked matter-of-factly. “I was more interested in seeing that willingness from the two of you.”

Anna and Jesse exchanged puzzled looks. Officer Holloway smiled and continued.

“Your Version numbers are right on target, the budget is still within the proper range, and the system is secure,” he said pleasantly. “We could not have asked for a better report.”

“But that's not the reason you came,” Anna replied bluntly. “Did we miss something?”

“No.” Holloway smiled. “I came to make you an offer. Both of you in general, but you in particular Miss McLean.”

Anna's heart thumped. This was unexpected. She leaned closer to him and kept her hands flat on the table to prevent them from shaking. “An offer?”

Holloway laughed again, a deep belly laugh. “Don't act so alarmed, Miss McLean! I'm not here to take you in.” He chuckled. “I'm not sure if you are aware, but your superiors send us a weekly report of your progress and your skills, and you have duly impressed. Your programming expertise is off the charts, and your skills adapting to new digital languages is unprecedented. No, we are here to make you an offer. An offer of new and more challenging employment.”

The thumping of her heart increased and Anna blinked. “Employment? With who?”

Holloway leaned back in his huge leather chair, apparently satisfied that his announcement had produced the desired dramatic effect. “With us, Anna. Employment with us. With an arm of Central Admin.”

Anna sat stunned, with her mouth hanging open and her hands still flat on the table. Holloway looked like he had expected a similar reaction and he continued without giving her a chance to respond. “HomoGen is doing good work in the fertility field, but babysitting Versions is child's play for you. The Versions already have their training schools and teaching programs and, quite frankly, we think you need more of a challenge. You've already helped us invent the Cure. Now we need your help perfecting it.”

Anna looked over at Jesse, who looked as stunned as she felt. He held his hands up, pleading ignorance. She looked back to Officer Holloway. “Perfecting it how?” she murmured in astonishment. Holloway turned to the woman next to him and gestured with his head. She nodded and began to speak.

“The human egg harvesting and human development part of the equation is close to perfect,” she said, “thanks to your excellent work. Along with HomoGen, our own facilities are producing Versions at or very near population replacement levels.” She tapped her tablet commex's screen several times, then turned it to face Anna. Anna twisted her head to look and saw a dynamic graph plot lazily updating across the display. She instantly recognized it as a population graph line, but also noticed another line beneath the first one.

“What is the plot below it?” The line she referred to was black and was angled much lower than the population graph drawn above it.

“That,” Holloway answered with a sigh, “is our problem.”

“Yes,” Officer Garnham continued, “That is our indoctrination and skill set input protocol.”

“English please?” Jesse cut in curtly.

Holloway chuckled yet again, and Anna realized that the sound irritated her. He turned to Jesse. “It's the rate at which we are educating the Versions that we've already produced,” he explained. “We are having an enormous problem keeping up with it.”

“Boosting the growth rate of Versions is proving helpful to the population side of things, but not the education side,” Officer Garnham said, casting Jesse a miffed look. “The host families are getting their Versions 'half-baked,' so to speak.”

“Precisely,” Holloway concurred.

It was Jesse's turn to chuckle now. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “So I marketed the growth rate boost to you people so well that it's now a problem?” he asked with affected incredulity. Officer Garnham cast him a dark look.

Holloway was more forgiving. “Correct, Mr. Atkins,” he said. “And this is where your colleague comes into the story.” He saw Anna's attention perk up at that and he turned back to her. “We have a brand new program that needs your particular expertise. Have you heard of the Dexworks Corporation?”

“I have not,” she replied.

“They hold all the patents for reactive computer technology,” Holloway explained with a flourish of drama, “and they are currently developing a way to educate the Versions directly.”

Anna's heart leaped. The Holy Grail of computing had landed with a roar right in her lap. She recalled with a vivid flash the news report from several years ago (back when the news channels still reported interesting news) about reactive computing: a direct mimic of the structure of the human brain so faithful that it enabled programmable thought. The only problem was finding a fool-proof way to transfer the data from the computer to an actual human brain. So far such a feat had eluded even the smartest neuroscientist. If it could be done, however, the possibilities were staggering. Entire blocks of knowledge could be programmed directly into a person's brain; whole skill sets downloaded and set in motion deep within the neural tissues. Languages learned overnight, doctorate degrees' worth of research acquired instantly. Giddiness spread over her as she mused in awe.

Holloway regarded her with satisfied amusement. “I see you already know what is at stake here,” he said. “It would eliminate our education costs virtually overnight.”

“Yes it would,” Anna said dreamily. “A perfection for the ultimate Cure.” She attempted to focus again. “Has Dexworks found a way to transfer from computer to brain?”

“They have, and they need you to design the transfer protocol for doing so,” Officer Garnham said. “If you say yes you can start next week.”

The female officer's bluntness only accentuated the explosive effect her news had on its subject. Anna blinked several times, then looked back over to Jesse. His face reflected her surprise. He bent close to her and whispered, “I think this is the part where you say 'yes.'”

She held her hand out to Holloway in a daze and managed to stammer out a whispered “yes.” Holloway took her hand and shook it with another of his laughs but Anna had forgotten that she ever thought it was obnoxious. The room had become a cloud underneath her, and the air seemed similarly rarified. She grasped Holloway's hand hard to keep from floating off into the joy of her own mind.

“So that's settled then?” Officer Holloway asked, a rhetorical question at best since Anna had begun jumping and laughing after he had managed to release himself from her grasp. He looked to Jesse. “And Jesse, you will be taking over Anna's administrative responsibilities here as soon as she leaves. We've already spoken to your superiors and they've pre-okayed any change.” He smiled. “I was confident you would say yes.” He suddenly checked his commex tablet again. “And Miss McLean, I see that your semi-annual fertility appointment is due tomorrow. I'd try not to forget that.”

Anna's stomach dropped a little and the emotional high she had been riding froze. She had forgotten all about it. Now that she thought about it she hadn't even put the appointment into her schedule. She nodded wordlessly at Holloway in answer and he seemed satisfied.

Officer Garnham handed Anna an envelope. “This has all of your transfer paperwork on it, as well as your training schedule and new security ID badge. I am your orientation officer for the foreseeable future. Contact me on Monday at the time on your schedule and we will start.”

With a garbled thank you Anna took the envelope, and the group made its goodbyes. With a final smile, Holloway turned to Anna and pointed at her playfully. “You are going to do great, Miss McLean. A great service to society.” Without waiting for a response he and his compatriot exited, leaving Anna and Jesse alone in the conference room.

A stunned silence held the room captive for several moments. Finally Jesse shook himself. “I haven't seen you smile like that in days,” he remarked as he gathered his things. “It's sexy.”

Anna, despite her joy, managed a scowl at him. “That's because you haven't given me that much to smile about in a long time.” With a sudden thought she poked him in the shoulder. “I can't work the rest of today with this kind of news hanging over my head. I'm going home now.” She turned to go but Jesse grabbed her arm.

“Wait, how about we grab drinks tonight to celebrate? Someplace special?”

Anna recoiled inside. “I don't know. I'm not speaking to you. And I drink better at home alone...”

“Oh, come now Anna! You just got the promotion of your life and you don't want to get even slightly drunk in public?” Jesse pleaded. Anna bestowed a wry look on him.

“Tempting, yes, when you put it that way,” she ragged.

“I'm paying,” Jesse suggested desperately. “The best vodka, rum, or whatever the hell works for you these days. I'll pay it.”

Anna sighed. Her resistance levels to bad personal choices must have fallen shockingly low. Good news must do that to me, she thought ruefully as she made up her mind. “All right, fine, pick me up at seven-thirty. And cut back on the cologne this time, maybe?”

“If I remember,” Jesse replied with a laugh. Anna glowered at him and stalked out, to the elevator again, down to the parking garage level, and out to her car.

She frowned as she climbed into her vehicle and pressed the start button, listening moodily to the soft gurgle and whirr of fuel cell plumbing coming to life. After tapping “Home” on her nav system the autodrive took over, gently guiding the car out of the underground garage and into the filtered morning sunlight. She barely noticed the fluttering fall leaves and fiery colors as the car sped ever closer to the Potomac; her mind was fixated elsewhere. Just as well; the beautiful trees belied the adult shoppes located behind them, Jesse's obsession and an ever-encroaching force on Anna's dignity. She used to not mind them, now she hated them with a passion. They didn't even have the decency to keep their wares indoors where she didn't have to see them. Products and provocatively-dressed dummies spilled out onto the sidewalks with signs announcing various deals. She refused to notice them and let herself wander.

It was not to be for long. The car suddenly slowed and finally ground to a halt behind a wall of traffic that snaked in an unbroken line into the distance. Anna swore colorfully; she was almost surprised that her good mood could have left her so quickly, but traffic exerted a soul-draining effect on her from which she had never found a proper escape. She sighed, flipped the radio on and settled back into her seat with her eyes closed, letting the news and talk channel funnel into her brain as the autodrive did all the work.

“Good morning to you citizens across the nation! I am Josef Goodman with the latest breaking news this morning! Today's top stories...”

The broadcast played on and on in the background, an occasional item piquing her interest to the small degree that it ever did. She only ever half-listened to the stories these days. They had of late assumed the repetitive character of an outside world gone mad: war, violence, threats, political instability. All stories from abroad too, not a great many local tales; an active avoidance of most things local. At first the rush of foreign bad news had made her vaguely fearful. Fear quickly turned to petulance, and now in its place all that was left behind was just a strange numbness.

A commercial now blared from the radio. In earnest tones a sensuous woman's voice narrated the script: “Be a part of the Cure, and leave the work to us! Our newest Versions are the best ever created: smart, well-behaved, tailored to you. Enjoy sexual activity free from fear; build your family with our help. Join the HomoGen Initiative.” Even Anna had to cringe at the overbearing sales pitch.

The commercial ended. “In other news today,” Mr. Goodman continued in his faux interested tone, “the Vatican has, yet again, released a statement condemning the Reunited States for its stance on reproductive issues.” After a pause he continued: “The text of the condemnation singled out the HomoGen Initiative for specific criticism, calling it 'immoral and destructive.' This is the fifth such condemnation the Vatican has directed towards HomoGen in half as many years, ever since the project unveiled the extent of its human egg-harvesting processes and showed the first Versions to the public.”

Different popes, same old tired pronouncements, she thought dismissively. Distracted, she glanced back out the window and was surprised not only to have moved quite a bit since she last looked, but also to be staring almost directly into a police cruiser's flashing lights. She blinked at the bright blue strobes and her stomach sank. So this was the reason for the delay. She cut off the autodrive and resumed her station at the steering wheel, only to remember that she ought to have her license and papers in order to show the officer when it was her turn. Grumbling, she snatched her purse from the passenger side seat and rummaged through it.

The police officer finished with the vehicle ahead of her and came striding towards her car. Before coming to her window, he pulled a scanner gun from his belt and pointed it at her license tag. A beep and a check of the screen on the device and he appeared satisfied. He continued to her window. “License and registration and security paperwork, please.” His tone was both urgent and tired.

Anna complied, and after a quick check the officer was again satisfied and even a little surprised. “Thank you, Miss McLean. Good to see a sensible Party member out here at this time.” He turned to leave when Anna decided she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.

“Officer?” she asked tentatively. “What's the reason for the stop? This can't just be routine traffic stops.”

The officer stopped, turned, and hesitated. “It's classified, Miss McLean.”

Anna's shoulders fell. The authorities felt it their duty to be tight-lipped. All the damn time. She tried again. “Is it a missing person case?”

The officer's face contorted and his tone darkened. “I'm sorry, Miss McLean, I can't satisfy you there. All I can say is that we are running an operation for Central Admin and that it is classified. Have a good day.” He turned and walked to the car behind Anna's and continued his work.

It must be a missing person case, Anna thought. He as much as admitted it. She shrugged and, putting her arm out the window into the cool air, proceeded to pick up speed as traffic began to move again over the Potomac. However, she had been cut off from her exit and had to take the next available off ramp to her neighborhood. Finding herself on relatively unfamiliar roads, she reset her autodrive and let it take over.

It was not long before the car suddenly bumped violently and recovered, and Anna shook from her reverie long enough to glance around for the cause of the bang. She realized the road had turned from smooth suburban pavement to the much older and badly maintained asphalt surfacing, and the road was now riddled indiscriminately with potholes. She switched off autodrive and took the wheel again, deftly navigating a path through the broken pavement.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the homes lining the street. They were all older homes from the early twenty-first century, a sad parade of huge homogenous dwellings now fallen into a serious state of disrepair. Vinyl siding hung loose from the exterior walls, cracks spread spidery fingers across masonry, holes pierced the glass in the windows. No cars sat idly in driveways, no sprinklers sprayed and no children played. The yards exploded in messes of overgrown weeds and unkempt grass, the mailbox doors hung loose from their hinges. A dead neighborhood.

Honest regret twinged in Anna's heart as she watched the crumbling edifices pass her by through her closed window. A shame that her work many times led to this sort of scene. A shame that the world had become so grossly overpopulated. But then, it had been the human urge for centuries to populate willy-nilly and hers was the generation to wield the responsibility to curb that. To clean up the mess, to tidy the world away. For the sake of humanity's future, of course. And the children.

Her breath sucked in and the regret suddenly dried away as she drove by the last house before her neighborhood. It rotted in an even more dilapidated condition than the rest, but that was not the reason for the surge of anger that welled up in her heart. Rather, it was the graffiti painted across the sagging front door in garish lettering: LET THERE BE LIFE.

She cursed the police for taking her out of her normal route but it was too late to switch directions. She attempted to calm her anger until she saw the words again, painted on the concrete pillars of an approaching overpass: LET THERE BE LIFE. Mocking her, leering at her. Challenging her. As if her work didn't bring about life. She knew it was Verité's graffiti, and her hatred of them boiled up in her breast. She switched her music on and let it begin its mind-numbing pounding.

Finally the car left the derelict homes and troubling paintings behind, and far more upscale homes came into view. Mostly Party members' homes and those of their associated lawyers and attendants. And then there was hers, a wide brick affair cloaked in beautiful thick green ivy. Her parent's old home, her home, the only home she had ever known.

The car slowed to pull into the driveway and Anna groaned as she saw a man wave to her from the next yard over. He was an older man, early sixties, with close-cropped gray hair and the slightest stoop. He began making his way towards her as she parked and gathered her things. She hurried her pace to get out of the car and inside the house as quickly as possible, but he was quick for an old man. It wasn't that she hated him; on the contrary, he could be sweet when he wanted to be. But he was strange.

“Mornin', Annalise!” he called out to her in a good-humored voice. He always called her by her full first name, she never knew why. Even when she had told him long ago that her nickname was Anna, he had smiled and said, “I'll remember that, Annalise.”

“Good morning Mr. Vickers,” she replied as agreeably as she could. Her generous mood had recovered to a degree; promotions did that for a body. She even added to her standard greeting with a “What are you up to?”

He smiled a pleasant crooked smile at her and shrugged. “Enjoying the birds, the trees, the air, the autumn. The only time all year that this entire street turns orange and red. Feels like you're looking down a hallway with fire springing up from both sides and arching over your head.”

Just strange, Anna thought. She nodded and was about to turn to go inside when Mr. Vickers cocked his head and gave her a puzzled look.

“You're home mighty early,” he remarked. “I don't usually see you arrive home 'til at least five-thirty.”

Anna hesitated, but realized that none of what she and the Central Admin officers had spoken of earlier had been deemed confidential so she relaxed again. “I got a promotion,” she said simply.

“A promotion, eh?” he replied, scratching his chin. “And what sort of promotion might that be? Higher up? Higher out? Deeper down? What does that mean with your company?”

Scratch that. I do hate him. Anna gritted her teeth and inwardly willed the old man to shut up. He was the only one who ever gave her grief for her work, and now just from his tone she could feel his gentle criticism coming. The images of the paint on the doors flowed back into her brain and upset her equilibrium again. “I am transferring out of HomoGen completely,” she offered ambiguously, hoping he would accept it and let her go.

“Oh, is that so?” Mr. Vickers said in some astonishment. He added almost cheerfully, “Giving up the devil's work or simply transferring to another post to do it more efficiently?”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Anna said in irritation and turned away. Her goodwill from the morning was now officially spent. She started up her sidewalk but still heard his voice behind her, following her.

“Versions are people, Anna. Real people. How can you devote your life to a company that desecrates people so?” His voice was mild, but insistently pleading. Like it had been every other time she had to listen to his drivel. Before, he had only brought it up every once in a while. Now it seemed like every day.

She stopped, turned on her heel and strode back to the driveway, coming face-to-face with the elderly man. Her breath pulsed rapidly in her anger and her words tumbled out sharply one on top of the other. “Maybe they are truly human, and then again, maybe they're not. But consider this: I actually give a damn what happens to this species of ours, so much so that I get up every morning and go to work just to make sure that we continue. Is that not good enough, even for you? How is that the devil's work, if there even is such a person as the devil?”

“The day HomoGen turned to manufacturing women's children outside of them; that was the day they started doing the devil's work.” He looked at her sternly.

Anna glared back at him, blood surging to her cheeks. “Every Version we make,” she pronounced slowly, irascibly, “has a place. Every one of them has someone to go to, to take them in and to care for them. Every Version is wanted.”

“So if it happened that they were not wanted, then what?” the man asked.

“There has never been a Version that someone didn't want,” Anna answered quickly, reflexively.

Mr. Vickers stared her straight in the eye, and his voice became very soft. “Do you have a father and a mother, Annalise?”

Anna blinked and frowned in confusion. “Yes...no. You know I don't.”

“But you did?”

“Of course I did!”

Mr. Vickers smiled faintly. “And, while they were still around, did you ever ask them why they were your father and mother?”

Anna's anger faltered amidst her discombobulation. She had no clue what he was driving at. “Why would I ask them that?” she wondered aloud. “There was no specific reason. They just were, I suppose.”

“I can guarantee you that was not the answer they would have given,” Mr. Vickers said in his soft tone.

“And what answer would they have given?” Anna asked, her irritation suddenly returning. “That I was useful to have, I suppose? That another girl in the world was a benefit to society in some way? You knew them before they died, you tell me what they would have said!” Her voice rose in unison with her frustration with the old man, and again she turned and attempted to walk away. Again that soft voice behind her.

“Annalise.”

She stopped, back still turned to him but waiting for what he had to say. No other word came though and she was forced to turn around just to see if he was still standing there. He was, and his face carried a look that she thought might have been compassion.

“Annalise, are you happy?” he asked quietly.

Anna stood motionless for several seconds, a dozen possible answers darting through her head. Her brain refused to process the question, though, and in a resolutely flat voice she replied: “Yes.” Then she turned for the final time, marched up her sidewalk, opened her front door and slammed herself shut inside. Away from old men asking awkward questions, away from her job, away from the autumn day, maybe even away from herself. She needed to be drunk.

Am I happy? Of course I am happy. Why wouldn't I be?

Read Chapter 4 here!

The SubVersion Complex, Chapter Two Revised

A couple people left comments for me about what they thought of Chapter Two, and they were all worth hearing. One of my readers suggested that, although they enjoyed the character development, they thought I gave a bit too much away about the Initiative right off the bat. Her suggestion was to show what Anna does and thinks through dialogue with another character. I think that was an excellent idea and it fit with my ideas for an edit. Plus I am trying to tidy up my prose, and the more layers of plot that happen at the same time, the better.

Another of my readers made the comment that I as the author showed which ideological direction I am biased toward too early, thus not allowing the reader to make his own decision based on the story arc. I agree, and the rearrangement of the text and significant rewrites should I think mitigate some of those issues.

Other changes were made simply for better storytelling effect.

Otherwise, enjoy!

╗ TWO ╚

THE HOMOGEN INITIATIVE

Sterilization was a dirty word. Cure polled much better.

Or so Anna had been told. Her expertise lay with computer code and systems tech, not with public relations and advertising buzzwords. However, as she stood and smoothed her business skirt in front of her office mirror and rechecked her makeup, she implicitly felt the difference. Sterilization was a word born of much darker times, and even the newer term liberation didn't quite have the same flavor. Cure had the effect of a necessary solution, which it most certainly was. Besides, the Central Administration Office had already anointed it as the central part of the national lexicon, and so Cure it would be called.

It was a good word.

It gave her selling power this morning, anyhow. Not usually the company's point man for customer presentations and company tours, the task had fallen to her anyways because of some scheduling fluke. No problem; it would be a pleasure to vacate her desk for an hour and give someone a tour. The file on her desk claimed the customers in question were a lesbian couple in their early thirties, finished with the twenties romantic fling thing and ready for a child.

At the least, she did not expect this to be difficult. At best, it would be enjoyable.

She touched her auburn hair, again, ensuring it was securely pinned back in her characteristic messy bun. She also fiddled with her name tag, straightening it: Annalise McLean, Senior Software and Systems, HomoGen, Inc. In the past five years the HomoGen Initiative represented the only thing that she had approached recently with any modicum of passion. If she was proud of anything, specifically of her work on anything, it was the Initiative.

Last look in the mirror, last check of her jewelry, blouse, face, shoes, skirt, smile. The smile... That was harder than the other things. It still would not fasten on with the same ease as her professional attire and expensive watch. Still, what she could muster should be sufficient for now. Besides, this wasn't a money-grubbing meeting with Central Admin, where she had to grovel and even show more skin than usual to grease the right palms. This was customer service, plain and simple.

She looked at her timepiece and noted it at eight fifty-eight and a half. Her meeting began at nine precisely. She snatched her commex and purse off her desk and exited her office with more than a hint of smugness.

In the gleaming white and chrome lobby downstairs, the lesbian couple sat and waited just as they were supposed to be. They were both slender blondes and dressed to perfection, with noses buried in their respective commexes when Anna rounded the last bend and willed her face to smile. She must have had some success with the exercise, for both of the women stood and smiled back and held out hands in warm greeting. Their names were Sara and Pearl and they wanted a child.

Anna began their tour with the lower floors, the laboratory showcase level of an almost decadently beautiful building. Her enthusiasm waxed ever greater as she showed off the facility and her subjects caught her spirit and explored with growing interest. From there they moved up several floors to the presentation level, replete with the appropriate conference rooms and curved window-walls looking down over Washington D.C. below. Finally they stopped at one of these windows and the two women spent a long moment staring out at the tiny cars and people below. Finally Sara turned around and leaned on the window rail, smiling at Anna.

“So why do you do this, Miss McLean?” she asked innocently.

“Do what?” Anna smiled back, masking her confusion.

“What you do, all of this.”

Anna swallowed and thought for a moment. She marshaled her sales pitch as best she could to the forefront of her mind and began. “We here are providing humankind, women especially, with a solution. A Cure, if you will. A cure from the way things have always been. I want to be at the cutting edge of that. We solved the problem of STD's successfully a long while ago, so it was only natural that we tackle the population regulation problem next.”

Pearl turned back from the window as well and eyed Anna. “And how successful has that regulation been? Just out of curiosity?”

“Overpopulation is now under control, overall.” Anna forced another smile. “Although our AnnexEstros intravenous shots take care of that pretty well. No, what we have done here with our 'Versions' is to truly perfect the art of reproduction without the pain and potential heartbreak.” Anna almost chuckled as she added, “Hell, you can even pick your child's hair color, eye color, skin color, and sex if you want. Every Version we make is to the exact tastes of the parent.”

Pearl smiled widely. “So there is never an unwanted Version?” she breathed almost reverently.

Anna nodded. “That is correct. There will never be an unwanted child ever again if we have our way.”

Sara shook her head. “You have done something really special, Miss McLean.” She chuckled and added, “And we are planning on being pretty specific with what we want. Although Pearl and I cannot decide on eye color to save our lives.”

All three laughed and Pearl put a hand on Anna's arm. “I want to thank you for giving us your time today, Miss McLean. I know you have a busy schedule and it was good to hear all this from you.”

Anna nodded. “Thank you. I am a woman, like you. I like to think I understand the challenges and the rewards of your situation. Rest assured, that as soon as you open your account here that we will begin work with your Version and will notify you of every stage of his or her progress.” A soft beep emanated from her hand and Anna glanced down at her commex. She tapped it and the screen lit up to reveal a new message. In the Sender box it read “Jesse Atkins”. She quickly swiped it with her thumb to reveal the words: “Get done soon, we are having guests. Be prepared to talk A LOT.”

Guests. A loaded term in her line of work. Her stomach churned whilst her brain processed the idea. It could bode well: perhaps Central Admin had sent emissaries who would provide more funding for the Initiative if they liked what they saw. Then again, it could be the same emissaries wondering about inefficiencies and wastage, and coming to deliver the bad news about a funding cutoff.

With profuse apologies she excused herself from the two women and began heading back to the elevator. She shook her head to clear away her consternation; she would find out everything about her surprise visitors in due course. Try as she might, though, the weight of her ignorance bore down on her and she rushed with a quicker step than usual back to the elevator and tapped the “Up” button.

Would the emissaries arrive with open or closed hands, with an offer or a verdict? She attempted to mentally divine the purpose of their visit but came up just as devoid of an answer as before. Unless she or her team had performed a task incorrectly, there was nothing she could think of to warrant an unannounced intrusion. Then again, it occurred to her that it may not even be Central Admin who was coming.

Ah, who am I kidding? she thought. It is always Central Admin. Their offices stretched vast feelers over the entire width and breadth of society, constantly tuned to the hum of human activity and always listening for the occasional discordant note. Of the fates of the discordant notes she was unaware, and she was firmly set on never finding out.

And why the hell was Jesse Atkins the one giving her this news? Her anxiety turned to annoyance as she remembered that she wasn't speaking to him this week. Flaunting their office romance to her friends was bad enough, but watching porn in her house after their own bit of naughty fun was the last straw.

The doors slid open and she stepped inside. Just as they began to close again a tall, slender man with a well-cropped goatee came rushing up and touched the doors to keep them open. “They are keeping completely tight-lipped about this one,” Jesse remarked as he slid into the elevator next to her, and he began stabbing the eighth floor button with an urgency that was not his wont.

“Good morning to you too,” Anna replied coldly. “It seems you pulled yourself away from yourself long enough to give me the time of day.”

Jesse grimaced at her sidelong. His long face was unusually focused for this time of the morning and Anna even imagined she could see a thin sheen of sweat cloaking his dark skin. His nervousness oozed out of him with almost the same intensity as his powerful cologne. The manly smell overpowered the tiny room and left the air almost unbearably pungent to breathe. She had a weakness for that particular scent in its proper dosage, but there was nothing even remotely erotic about the concentration of this stench. She coughed and theatrically put the collar of her blouse over her nose.

“Really threw that stuff on this morning, didn't you?”

“Maybe I could have gotten the percentage correct if you had let me come over last night,” Jesse countered. “I'd have had you right there to tell me when to stop.”

“You never know when to stop,” she replied. “With that or anything else. And you never do stop anyways, even when I do tell you.”

Jesse turned to look at her over his shoulder. “That's because you want it,” he said with a leering smile and a sultry look. Anna frowned at him and looked away, although her skin prickled; she could still feel his gaze probing her. He did that too much now, the long looks and the obvious mental undressing. The first couple times it had been sexy. Now it just reminded her of the porn shoppes he loved so much.

“So what do you know about this meeting?” she asked in a desperate attempt to fend off more of his unwanted attention. Jesse either got the hint or got bored, and he turned back to the closed doors in front of him before he answered.

“Central Admin. They're sending two of their top people. The subject matter? I have no clue but I can guess what it's not.”

“Is it budget again?”

“I don't think so.” Jesse scratched his chin. “They sent nothing on ahead, except for a request that you and I have the Project main quarter report available and be willing to answer any questions they might have. At least they are done acting like HomoGen is a private company anymore and are just giving us orders like they do with everyone else. Makes life so much easier.”

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open, and Anna stepped gratefully out of the cologne-soaked sweatbox into a long hallway. The opposite wall was constructed almost entirely from huge panes of glass and allowed prodigious amounts of morning sunlight to stream in. She crossed to the windows and looked down at the miniature city below in a distracted fashion. “I just hope they are not taking away our funding,” she said quietly.

“I don't think that's why they're coming,” Jesse reassured her. “Their request for info seemed perfunctory anyways. I think it's something else. Come on, I nabbed conference room two. You go in and wait, I'll be there in a moment.” With his hand a little too low on her back he guided her towards the conference room door and opened it. “And don't drink all the coffee before we start.”

“Ha ha,” Anna replied without humor. “And I find it funny that you give that decaf crap the name 'coffee.' You can rest assured it'll be full for you when you get back.”

Jesse opened his mouth to voice a snarky counter-opinion, then thought better of it, wordlessly turned and walked away. Anna meanwhile entered the room and found a home in one of the giant leather chairs surrounding the long table. Dim lights set at intervals along the walls cast shafts of soft illumination up to the ceiling. The table reflected them back from deep within its dark oiled finish and from the chromed video conference stations inlaid into the wood.

She tapped red-painted fingernails on the table impatiently, waiting for another human being to enter. The clock on the wall monotonously ticked away the seconds, the distant traffic outside noised its low rumble, and nobody came. The room remained silent and empty for much longer than she had anticipated. Her foot began tapping now too, her heel clicking on the marble floor in time with the clock. Finally her hand reached of its own accord to her bag and pulled out her commex. Her earphones followed and she was soon gratefully drowning in a sea of inner-ear sound. She still blasted the music like everyone else but her preference lay with artists from near the turn of the century. It was not stellar but also not bad in the same way modern music was bad. At least the early stuff used intelligible lyrics; the current music had casually dispensed with that component and gone for the heavy electronic sound instead.

Her music was a soothing drug, a cathartic exercise that staved off boredom and deep thought. As she listened her eyes slipped shut and she leaned back in her chair with a sigh of contentment. Her mind emptied and the sound flowed in, possessing her brain and matching her biological rhythm to its pulsating electronic one. She sank into its raging tumult and imagined herself at peace.

The tap on her shoulder shocked her back into reality and she came ungracefully bolt upright, ripping the music from her ears and stuffing the entire ensemble back into her purse. Jesse stood bent over her, his face nearly on level with her nose and an amused expression on his face. He smirked and motioned behind him with his thumb. “We have visitors.”