“That’s a funny way of describing the time when people would mess with a clone’s DNA as if it were a cake recipe instead of the fundamental matrix of a person,” Joanna said sternly. “It was not a good time. Bathtub baby incidents were cropping up, along with hearings on the ethics of DNA hacking and the even more questionable ethics behind mindmap hacking. One of the greatest technologies in history was outlawed because of opportunistic fatcats and outlaw hackers with no principles. Is that ‘golden’ to you?”
Hiro remembered the stories from history class, having been born after the Codicils were in place. Bathtub babies was the term for children born with undesirable genes, the wrong gender, or a disability. The parents would record the DNA matrix and the mindmap, then pay extra for a hacker to change the gender or disability, or even—he remembered with discomfort—to make a mixed-race baby favor one parent’s race over the other’s. Once the new, shiny, perfect clone was programmed, the parents would “dispose of” the damaged one and wake the new clone.
It went beyond children. World leaders were kidnapped and modified to fit a rival government’s needs. Lovers were modified to fit a partner’s needs. The sex trade grew in leaps and bounds. Eventually the penalty for hacking was death.
“I don’t mean that the bathtub babies were good. But if something needed to be fixed, something genetic and deadly, then the hackers could do it instead of forcing someone to die from MS over and over again, right? The really good ones could modify a sociopath, I heard. And the Codicils put an end to that, to all the good hacking. I understand why they did it, but it seemed like overkill to ban all hacking.”
“Loopholes would have been found if we allowed even a little bit through. Even after the laws passed, some hackers went underground and kept working. You can’t catch all the roaches.” She sounded bitter. She put her hand on the captain’s and patted it twice. “I was never for the pointless killing of an older clone in order to benefit a newer one. And it happened far more often than the history books say it did. I will do all I can to protect this one.”
“You may need a guard,” Hiro said.
“Katrina’s upset, but I don’t think she’ll act. She has other things to worry about, after all,” Joanna said. She sighed and checked the reading of a blood sample a diagnostic machine had taken. “All vital signs are steady. She’s suffered some severe head trauma. Honestly. If we were back home, we’d activate the DNR and just euthanize her. But we need her alive for now.”
“Playing God isn’t as exciting as you’d think,” Hiro said. “Why can’t we just take a mindmap of her brain?”
“And put it where?” Joanna asked. “We don’t have a hacker on board, and it’s even less ethical to grow a new clone just for her memories, which are likely damaged. Where does that put our captain, then?”
“Probably pissed as hell at us. Then she can recycle us and replace us with clones of herself,” Hiro suggested.
Joanna smiled. “There you go. Seriously, without IAN to watch her while I rest, I’m going to need to sleep in here. Can you give me a hand making up the other hospital bed?”
Hiro started looking about the medbay for linens, but found none. “I guess there will be sheets in storage. Or I’ll see if they drifted down the hall or something.”
Joanna nodded, focused on the captain’s clone again. “Thank you.”
“Doc?” Hiro asked as he snagged a chair with magnetic casters on the legs and slid it across the floor to the captain’s bedside.
“Mm?” Joanna said, looking at the readout of the numbers again.
“You never said whether you had met a previous clone of yourself,” Hiro said.
“Actually I haven’t. My lives have been fairly boring. I like it that way.”
“Until now,” he said.
“Until now,” she agreed softly. “At least our cargo is safe. Otherwise the mission is pointless.”
“True!” Hiro said brightly, and then realized how ridiculous he sounded. “Kinda like finding a diamond in a pile of shit.”
The intercom above their head crackled to life with the captain’s voice. “All crew to the cloning bay. Now.”
He sighed. “Why do I think the pile of shit just got a little deeper?”
Depths
Hiro missed swimming.
He knew it was ridiculous, given that whatever had happened, his last memory of Earth was only a few hours ago in his time line. The last time he went swimming, according to his memory, was a week ago. But this body had never touched a pool or ocean, and probably never would. He’d thought about the freedom of swimming several times after waking up. Diving down into the black water, away from the horrors that surrounded him. His mood, his quips, felt like autopilot while he submerged inside himself.
Like all older clones, he understood how to deal with his own death. It no longer shocked him; he’d experienced it in many ways.
But he’d never killed himself. He couldn’t imagine why he had done so this time. So he dove.
He resurfaced when Wolfgang grabbed his arm roughly. “Pay attention, Hiro,” he said.
Paul and Maria stood at the two cloning bay terminals, Paul still looking ill and shaky, Maria’s lip bloody where it looked as if she had bitten it.
The captain faced them, her arms crossed.
“While we have basic computer use and access to navigation, we have some serious problems. IAN remains offline. Our logs—all logs, personal, medical, command—are gone. No backups.” She took a deep breath. “And we have discovered sabotage here in the bay itself. Beyond the apparent erasure of all our more recent mindmaps, we can’t make any new mindmaps. And the cloning bay’s software has been wiped. It’s just a big empty computer attached to some vats. No new bodies.”
They were silent, letting this sink in.
Hiro continued to sink.
“This is death,” Joanna said from very far away.
“Yes. Unless we can figure out how to fix these machines, we’re all dead at the end of these clones’ lifetimes,” Katrina said. “Now. Options.”
Hiro’s ears were buzzing. He wanted to move, to run, to find a weapon and take full revenge on anyone and everyone. His fists balled up.
Wolfgang took a step toward Paul, and the smaller man looked up from the terminal in alarm. “Fix it.”
“I’m doing what I can,” Paul said, his voice stronger as he tapped on the terminal. He was in his element, apparently, and getting a bit more energy.
“Our first goal is to get IAN online,” Maria said. A drop of blood had fallen onto her chin.
Hiro stared at that drop of blood. It centered him. It felt like all that had gone wrong that day was contained in the drop of blood. He stepped forward and dabbed at her chin with his sleeve.
“You’re bleeding,” he said quietly.
“Oh. Right. So I am,” she said. “That’s the least of our problems right now.”
“But it’s one that we can fix.”
She gave him a quick glance, then turned back to the terminal. “Fair enough.”
“Maria,” Katrina said. “Do you have experience with reprogramming an AI?”
Maria paused, then looked up again. “No, Captain.”
“Then if you’re not going to help here, go to the kitchen and see if the sabotage has reached that far. We’re going to need food soon.”
Maria frowned as if she was going to argue, but when she saw Wolfgang’s face she nodded once and left.
The captain ran her hand over her face. “Now, Wolfgang. We need to talk.”