The Complete Atopia Chronicles

3



“NOTHING MORE THAN a simple panic attack,” said the doctor.

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.