“—I don’t understand—”
“Consciousness transfer,” Mansfield says. “We’ve understood the technology for a while now, but the problem is, there’s nothing to transfer a human consciousness into. You can’t overlay a human mind on top of another; a few people tried, in the beginning, and the results were disastrous. And other mechs don’t have the capacity to contain anything so… intricate. So subtle. But you do, Abel. Once I wipe your mind completely clean of its existing consciousness, I can transfer myself inside and pick up where you left off. Except this time I’ll be strong, young, and well-nigh invincible. I can’t wait to get started.”
Abel sits motionless, expression unchanging, as the realization sinks in.
He is… a shell. Only a shell. Nothing he has ever thought or felt matters. It never did. Not to Burton Mansfield.
This is his extraordinary purpose. This. Everything he is, everything he’s been and done, will be erased in an instant. Or maybe it won’t be an instant—maybe it will take a long time as Abel lies there, feeling more and more of his consciousness slipping away—
“I thought this through,” Mansfield continues. “I was careful to make sure you wouldn’t mind. Your prime directive tells you to take good care of me, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.” Should he have said father? He can’t, not now. “I always want to protect you.”
That wins him a satisfied smile. “Now you’re protecting me from the greatest danger of all—from death. Don’t you think that’s wonderful? Of course you do. Your programming tells you to.”
And it does. It does. Even as Abel struggles with this knowledge, something deep inside him takes satisfaction in the thought of keeping Burton Mansfield safe forever, shielding him within his own skin.
But his thoughts have evolved, these past thirty years. He’s had ideas and feelings that have nothing to do with his programming. He’s had experiences Mansfield could only dream of. Abel remembers Noemi’s voice saying the words that meant so much to him: “You have a soul.”
And also: “Burton Mansfield’s greatest sin was creating a soul and imprisoning it in a machine.”
His body is not a prison. It’s a vehicle. Mansfield will scoop Abel’s soul out and pour his own back in.
“I understand,” Abel replies. He can’t think of anything else to say.
This satisfies Mansfield. “See, I knew you would. We’ll have a delicious dinner tonight; I’d like to treat this body before I discard it forever. Then later on, we’ll head down to the workshop and get started.” His smile widens. “This day will go down in history as one of the greatest scientific achievements of all time. Burton Mansfield defeats death. Worth another Nobel, wouldn’t you think?”
A cough rattles in Mansfield’s throat, then another. As his shoulders shake with the hacking, Abel braces him gently, holding the old man safe while the Tare hurries in from another room. He can’t do anything else. First and foremost, he takes care of Burton Mansfield.
“He needs an oxygen treatment,” the Tare says briskly. “I’ll see to it immediately.”
“The last time for this damned nonsense, at least,” Mansfield wheezes.
Abel nods as he gets to his feet. There’s no reason not to walk away, not while the Tare is tending to Mansfield. So he walks downstairs, into the workshop.
His birthplace, and the place he will die.
What else can he call what’s about to happen, if not his death? Abel’s body will go on, but his body was never what made him special. It was his soul, the soul only Noemi could truly see. That will be destroyed.
The tanks bubble and hiss as Abel walks between them. Now that the sun is setting, the stained glass windows no longer show to good advantage. They’re only dark. Two chairs are settled near a bright corner that could easily be mistaken for a reading nook—but the equipment stored behind them tells a different story. This is where Abel will be invited to take a seat and give up his soul for Burton Mansfield.
I must protect Burton Mansfield. I must obey Burton Mansfield.
What will slip away from him first? His memories of the thirty years in the pod bay? That might not be so bad. The languages he’s learned? Or will it be a feeling?
It hits Abel then—his love for Noemi will be pulled out of him. Destroyed. The love itself will no longer exist.
Protect Burton Mansfield. Obey Burton Mansfield.
Abel turns to look at the opposite wall of the workshop. There’s the back door that leads to the garden, the one he and Mansfield walked through only a brief time ago. Nobody activated the security lock.
Obey Burton Mansfield.
But Mansfield didn’t order Abel to submit to the procedure. He expects it, wishes it, but he hasn’t commanded it—and that loophole in Abel’s programming makes all the difference.
Slowly he walks toward the doorway, expecting to be stopped at any moment. Not by the Tare, not even by Mansfield, but by something deep inside himself, some other fail-safe that will keep him from abandoning his “ultimate purpose.” Instead he keeps going, slowly closes his hand around the knob, and opens the door.
Outside, not so far away, London’s crowds bustle along. They’re just down the hill, not far past the iron gate. Abel can hurdle that in a moment, if he can only begin.
One step.
Then another.
He looks back at the house, at the workshop where he was born, and remembers rising from the tank to look into Mansfield’s delighted face.
Abel turns around and begins to walk, then to walk faster, and finally to run as hard and fast as he can.
35
GENESIS HAS FEW PRISONS. ONLY INDIVIDUALS GENU-inely dangerous to those around them are denied freedom. Other wrongdoers are expected to work for their atonement—sometimes hard and thankless labor—and their movements are controlled via sensor, kept close to work and house. But for the most part, they stay at home. The Elder Council says people are more likely to amend their behavior when they have some chance of retaining their place in their community.
Privately, Noemi’s always had doubts about their system of justice. Maybe she’s bloody-minded, but it seems unfair to her. Some criminals get off too easily, in her opinion.
But now—staring up at London’s Marshalsea Prison—Noemi thinks she could never sentence someone to live in anything as gray and forbidding as this.