The Atopia Chronicles (Atopia series)

13

 

 

 

Identity: Jimmy Scadden

 

“Regarding our project, there is something I need you to do for me in return,” I said to Dr. Granger.

 

We were back on another walk through the hydroponic farms. He’d wanted an update and confirmation of our deal to put him first in line for the conscious transference project.

 

“I want to be put into the research groups on memory and addiction.”

 

“Consider it done,” he agreed with a smile. Dr. Granger held out a hand to pass it through the green leaves of a plant nearby. He stopped to inspect one large, ripe tomato hanging in from its vines.

 

“And I’ll need to get root access to Shimmer,” I added, “and your own pssi system.”

 

He let go of the tomato and turned to look at me. I could see the doubt turning behind his eyes, but then again, to become immortal, to secure his fame forever.…

 

“Yes, but with some provisos,” he replied slowly. “I’ll need to understand the details of what you want to do, but yes.”

 

“Of course,” I agreed. “You also understand we need to keep this private, just between you and me.”

 

He narrowed his eyes and smiled.

 

“I don’t want Patricia to be a part of this,” I explained.

 

“Isn’t she like a mother to you?”

 

He was trying to measure an emotional response from me, but I merely stared at him.

 

Patricia had never liked Granger, and I didn’t want to create any more problems by making it public that I was working with him. As the lead on conscious perimeter security, I had a growing passion in the next evolving step of the pssi program: consciousness transference. We were still a ways off, but we were evolving ways to understand how the ethereal mind hovered somewhere within the physical cage of the brain where the seat of consciousness and our sense of self came together.

 

Immortality, or something approaching it, was close at hand.

 

Soon enough, as pssi flooded the world and mankind began flittering between gameworlds and sensorgies, an upgrade to their monthly pssi package would feature an option for conscious transference.

 

Transfer from what? They will ask. From my old body? That thing I haven’t seen in a year?

 

And in an instant it will be done, the age-old dream of immortality realized with as little fanfare as the click of a button. They’ll leave their bodies to collect dust somewhere in the corner of a garage like an old television set, eventually to be thrown out.

 

In this context, ceding executive control to pssi was like offering up your eternal soul.

 

Granger really shouldn’t be quite so trusting, no matter what the possible gains. He was lucky he was dealing with me, and not someone else.

 

“She loves you,” he added, watching me, fishing.

 

I flashed with irritation, but before I could say anything, he beat me to the punch.

 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to test you—old habits die hard,” he laughed. “I very much appreciate working with you. Consider me at your disposal for anything.”

 

“Are you coming to the Infinixx launch tonight?” I asked.

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He rolled his eyes, obviously no fan of the Killiam clan.

 

“Good.”

 

He nodded, returning his attention to the tomato plant. “Anything you say, Jimmy.”

 

 

 

 

 

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