The Complete Atopia Chronicles

13





Identity: Jimmy Jones



“REGARDING OUR PROJECT, there is something I need you to do for me in return,” I said to Dr. Ganger. We were back on another walk through the hydroponics 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 we passed. He stopped to inspect one large, ripe tomato hanging in its branches.

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

He let go of the tomato and turned to look at me. This was a highly unusual request, but then again, to become immortal, to secure his fame forever, this was worth anything to him.

“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 between you and I.”

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 just stared at him impassively.

I didn’t want Patricia knowing I wanted to do research work with Hal. She’d never liked him, and I didn’t want to create any more problems. On top of that, the project Hal and I were discussing was something Patricia didn’t know I was involved in.

As the lead on conscious perimeter security, my plate was already full, but I had a growing passion in the next evolving step of the pssi program—conscious transference. We were still a ways off, but we were slowly 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 all of 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. Then they’d 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.

Hal 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, you know,” he added, watching me, fishing for something. I grew impatient. Before I could say anything, he beat me to the punch.

“Sorry Jimmy, I don’t mean to test you—old habits die hard,” he laughed. “I very much appreciate this. 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 replied sarcastically, obviously no fan of the Killiam clan.

I let it go. “Good, I really want everyone to be there.”

He nodded, returning his attention to the tomato plant.

“Anything you say, Jimmy.”

I nodded goodbye and clicked out of that sensory space. I was really looking forward to the launch.