Velvet Dogma

chapter 12



Their three-block walk to the D-pens where Rebecca's grandmother was waiting to die went unmolested by police, Black Hearts or gravBoarders. It was just as well, because Rebecca felt like giving up. If the police wanted to put her back in prison, then she'd let them. If the Hei Xin wanted to take her organs, fine. She'd been released from prison a little over twenty-four hours ago and she wanted nothing more than to return. If that wasn't an indictment on what society had become, she didn't know what was.

Kumi had tried to explain the logic behind the organ levies during reintroduction."The world isn't the same as it once was. Overpopulation, starvation and disease have bred a new class of people. Basically, unless you're born with a waiver, you're body doesn't belong to you. You have a responsibility to take care of it, because when you die, your parts go immediately to help others in need. While you were under, you were surveyed, and the results were passed to the Global Allocation System to be catalogued and tracked. In the tragic event that your heart stops, collectors will come and harvest your organs in less than thirty minutes."

Rebecca's couldn't disagree more. Her body was her own. "That's not right!"

"Isn't it?" For the first time, Kumi seemed to lose her cool. The words came rapid-fire with a trace of East Asian accent. "How would you like it if your daughter died because she didn't have a donor match for her kidney and all the while people are allowing their kidneys to be buried with them?" Before Rebecca could respond, Kumi continued. "How would you like it if you needed a blood transfusion and your perfect match decided that she wanted to be cremated and in doing so guaranteed your death? Is that fair?"

"But my organs are mine!"

"Even when you die?" Kumi had shaken her head and clucked her tongue. "I know. The question is unfair, especially to you. The argument over ownership occurred in 2024 when it was deemed that clinical death was the end of organic ownership with rights referring to the previously contracted subscriber. In the early days that subscriber was the government. But governments being what they are were unable to handle the situation. So private contractors evolved."

"What you're saying is that someone owns me now?" Rebecca asked incredulously. A sick feeling spread from the pit of her stomach.

"Not at all."

"Then what? They own part of me? They own a piece of me? I don't understand."

"When you die the Pacific Autonomous Resource Allocation Syndicate owns your remains. They were the highest bidder." Kumi leaned in. "You have no idea what your organs are worth. You haven't been subjected to a lot of the toxins the rest of us have. For all intents and purposes you're like a newborn and ideal for transplant."

Rebecca had been feeling her ire rise throughout the conversation. It had been more than a decade since she'd been able to demonstrate her anger. She felt the heat of her emotions color her face. Her eyes widened as her lips curled into a snarl. Anger rose like a snake.

Kumi backed away holding her hands out protectively. "Whoa. This isn't my fault, Rebecca. This is just the way things are now."

"The way things are? You mean that the world has decided that the best course of action is to allow people to be harvested before their bodies even become room temperature?" Rebecca delivered the words as evenly as she could.

"It's not like that," Kumi insisted.

"Then what is it like? Jesus. Damn." Rebecca ground her teeth. "One thing I forgot when I was locked up was how messed up the world was. And to think that I'd imagined it better."

"But it is better." She saw Rebecca's answering sneer and hurried to add, "You'd think there'd be a hurry to harvest the organs. That was the initial fear when the laws were passed, but that's not how it is. If anything, healthcare has improved. I read that you had to pay to see a doctor before you went away. No more. Now everyone is provided the same service."

"Provided their organs are transplantable."

"There is that, of course."

"Of course." Rebecca crossed her arms.

The irony of that conversation struck Rebecca as she stood in front of a sign that read *Sunset D-Pens* with the words Helping the Young Through Sacrifice scrawled neatly beneath. The sprawling low-slung building looked more like a K-mart than an old folks' home, nothing like she'd expected.

When she'd been little and a Brownie they'd gone to some of the homes to help the elderly, play games with them and sometimes to just sit and talk. She remembered the buildings as usually being dark brick, with lots of aromatic wood, carpeted floors, carefully manicured green grass, immaculate flowerbeds and meandering sidewalks wide enough for wheel chairs. Old men had played shuffleboard. Women rocked in chairs on the shade of the porch.

This place looked more like a retail outlet, a place where at any moment the intercom would announce a sale on livers or a run on spleens. Heavily tinted floor-to-ceiling windows comprised the entire front of the building. Red metal walls met a dark gray roof that peaked just enough to urge rain away. Cars filled the parking lot. Drink dispensers stood ready to serve near the double entrance doors. If the inside was anything like the outside, how impersonal it must be.

She turned to Andy who He shrugged helplessly, looking none too happy. "I don't like it either, Bec. This is a horrible way to go."

"They're literally waiting for her to die, aren't they?"

"Yes."

She set her teeth against her lip and scowled. "Monsters."

"They think they're doing a service," he said, then quickly held up his hand when she started to retort. "Not that I'm defending them Bec, but I thought you might want to know. I used to date a girl who worked at one of these places. She loved the sense of duty the job provided to her. She really felt that she was doing a service, recycling the organs of the dead and providing them to the living."

"But what about the dying? What about my grandmother?"

"They're supposed to be taken care of right until—"

"—they get pushed over the cliff." She crossed her arms defiantly.

"I've heard stories," Andy admitted. "Let's hope this place is on the up and up."

Rebecca still had the idea that she might spirit her grandmother away. She'd planned on staying with Olga—presumptuous, but necessary—but that wasn't an option any more. She'd worry about that later. Now she needed to see what was going on, and how best to rescue her grandmother. Worst case scenario, they'd all be on the run.

"We need to be careful when we go in." He touched her elbow. "We're not going to have a lot of time, anyway."

"Why? What's going to happen?"

"I'm not sure. We could have an hour or a minute. It depends on who's looking for you and how badly they want you. There's the police to remember, but what about the Black Hearts. Are they willing to go public? Can they hack into the D-Pens?"

"Wait," she said anxiously. "You're going too fast—slow down."

"This is a facility that's regulated by the Global Allocation System. See their logo?" Andy pointed to a sign etched into one of the windows. It had and image of a scalloped flat earth with the letters G.A.S. over the top. "There are sensors at all exits to ensure their patients don't just up and leave. Likewise, when anyone with a levy enters, it records the date and time, as well as the health of the organ."

"So when I go in—"

"—there might be bells, sirens and dancing bears." His grin was a little thin. "But I doubt it. My guess is that whoever wants you will come and get you themselves."

"I never thought about it," she said slowly.

"That's why you need me, Bec."

She twisted her mouth into a mock frown. "It's about time you started pulling your own weight." Then she was heading for the door. He caught up to her just as she reached it, and together they entered. The door sssked shut behind them.

They stood in an enclosed entryway. Faces with wraparound glasses peered down at them from windows high on the wall. An intercom came to life.

"Input Levy number."

"Require voice override," said Andy.

"Levy number not recognized," came the computerized voice again. "Input Levy number."

"Command voice override." He rolled his shoulders to release the tension.

"Levy Number—zzzt —May I help you?"

"Sure. We're here to see—"

"Agnes Navarro," she supplied.

"We're here to see Agnes Navarro."

"Are you family?"

Andy glanced at Rebecca. She shrugged her shoulders and nodded. He addressed the door. "Yes. Her granddaughter is here."

"Hold a moment." Then the voice was gone.

He looked at her and swallowed. "This could be it."

A sudden noise startled her, the sound of gears grinding to life. Then the door opened. They stepped through and walked over to a chest-high administration desk. Three tiled hallways intersected in the admin area. A few patients shuffled along the walls. In the center hallway rested three portable beds, as if they were waiting for someone. Three women stood behind the counter. All wore dark gray, military-cut, pant suits with Chinese collars. All wore PODs. The nearest one, the owner of the voice, held out a POD for Rebecca to take. "You can view Ms. Navarro in this."

Rebecca stared at the POD like it was a big hairy spider. There was no way she'd take it. She couldn't.

"Ms. Mines is on probation and restricted from anything but Class 1 Automations."

The woman holding the POD grinned, then dropped her outstretched arm. "You're serious."

"Always."

The woman subvocalized as she accessed her POD. When her attention returned, she asked, "What did you do?"

Rebecca suddenly felt more than a little embarrassed. She didn't want to answer that. Was it any of this woman's business anyway?

"Her crime is still classified, and won't be de-classed until 2080. Can we hurry this up?" She loved Andy for his officiousness.

The woman glanced from Rebecca to Andy then lost herself in the POD. "What is it with this family," she mumbled to herself.

Rebecca still heard her. "What does she mean by that?" Rebecca whispered, to Andy.

"They tried to put David through the same rigmarole, so he hacked his records and invented a criminal history," he answered in a loud voice.

"He did what?"

"Otherwise he'd have never seen her, never been sure he was talking to a construct or your grandmother. It was the only way to see her. He used to joke about it all the time. There, look."

A slim man nearly a head shorter than Rebecca approached. He wore white gloves and the same type of gray military-cut suit the others wore. His black hair was crew-cut, his sideburns long to his chin. His lips were pursed in bureaucratic disdain.

"Ms. Mines. I am Mr. Singh. Come with me."

She and Andy started forward, but the man held up a white-gloved hand. "Just Ms. Mines, please."

"But we're together," Andy pointed out.

"Not in this facility, you aren't." The small man stared back nonplussed. Clearly he was ready for an argument. Rebecca read his body language and said, "It'll be okay, Andy. I'm just gonna see my grandmother."

To her surprise, Andy hugged her. His strong hands pressed against her back. She could smell a hint of balsam. Say Hi for me. In a whisper he added, "She's in corridor three, room 42C. I'll be there when you need me." Then be backed away. He shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded at the G.A.S. man.

The man flicked his gaze disdainfully over Andy once, then turned. "Follow me, please."

A hospital had a certain momentum, nurses and aides and doctors coming and going, saving, prescribing, doing the things they do. Nursing homes were the same to a lesser degree. The patients weren't critical, but there were certain maintenance functions, drugs and therapies for instance, that had to be provided on schedule. Each place generated an energy equal to its output. Rebecca remembered standing in a hallway waiting to give a woman a basket of candy, when she knew something was in critical condition. No one told her. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary. But the energy of the hospital changed. The movement of the staff changed. These were things she could tell on a subconscious level. Just as she could tell that this D-Pens was nothing more than a human garage.

Mr. Singh had taken off at a quick stride and it took her a few moments to catch up. She wanted to ask him how her grandmother was doing, but his demeanor put her off entirely. He didn't seem to want to be trifled with. He was a gatekeeper, nothing more.

She noted the signs as she passed. 34C. 35C. She was walking so quickly she couldn't get a good idea what the rooms looked like, but she'd seen plenty of patients lying in beds. Nothing else, though. No couches or furniture, no TVs dropped from the ceiling. She intentionally slowed down, anticipating her grandmother's room.

"Follow me please," said Singh.

She ignored him and halted before the closed door to 42C. She watched as he continued on, trying to gauge if he'd do anything. He didn't even seem to notice where she was. She opened the door and slipped inside. But as she went to close it, a hand kept it from closing.

"What do you think you're doing?" Singh stepped between the door and the jam. He pressed his lips together and glared at her as if she were a child. "You need to follow me, Ms. Mines."

"But this is her room." She blinked innocently.

"Yes, but before you see her, we need to annotate some information." He was smooth, but not so smooth that Rebecca didn't notice his nervousness. Annotate information my ass! She thought.

"Tell you what, Mr. Singh. I'll have a word with my grandmother, then swing by for that." Her next words cut-off any argument. "I'm sure you understand. I haven't seen her in twenty years."

He knew when he was beat. She could see it in his eyes. He let go of the door reluctantly and nodded his head once. "You do that, Ms. Mines. I'll be waiting down the hall. We're expecting you." Then he was gone.

She pushed the door shut and pressed her back against it. Whew, that was close. She wondered where that little man had planned on taking her. Was there a squad of Black Hearts waiting in a room down the hall? It didn't even matter. She had no intention of keeping her appointment with him.

Now that she was in one of the rooms, she was able to examine it more closely. The windowless walls, ceiling and floor were a slick composite. Five beds were in a row along the left hand side. The right wall held a bank of display screens. Red, blue and green lights blinked off and on at intervals. She spied her grandmother's name and walked to the monitor. Gobbledygook code scrawled across the screen. Seven green lights and one red. What was that one for?

"Becky? Is that you?"

A thousand chocolate chip cookies. A hundred presents. A million kisses and love you promises. An age-spotted hand on her shoulder as her books lay scattered on the dining room table while she struggled to learn geometry, chemistry and algebra. The smell of her house sweater after it came off the clothesline. Lilacs.

"Grandma?"

"Yes, dear." The old woman's voice sounded tired and strangely muffled. "David said you'd be by to see me soon."

Rebecca turned and took in the sight of her grandmother in the bed. Her mouth opened slowly and tears filled her widening eyes. Her grandmother lay in a bed like none she'd ever seen, nor ever wanted to see. In fact, it wasn't really a bed at all. It was a platform with raised sides, into which some sort of plastic gelatin had been poured, clear enough so that Rebecca could see every detail of the old woman encased in the curious slime. Even her head was held beneath the gelatin. A facemask covered her mouth, fed by tubes that disappeared into the gelatin beneath her. The only thing above the surface of the gelatin were the twin PODs resting over her grandmother's eyes.

"I take it," came her disembodied voice, "that David didn't prepare you for this."

Rebecca's voice caught as she tried to speak. Affixed to the wall above her grandmother's head was a finger-long video camera angled towards her. A speaker was embedded in the wall beneath. "Why?" was all she could muster. Her emotions had been overloaded. She could barely breathe.

As she stepped closer, Rebecca noticed more detail that she'd missed earlier. Her grandmother's body was naked except for small machines affixed in several places, each coinciding with a major organ. The only empty spot was above her left abdomen which held nothing but a scar. Green lights blinked from the tips of each baseball-shaped machine.

"You've grown into a splendid woman."

"What have they done to you, grandma? Rebecca had watched her grandmother's throat move as she subvocalized into the mask, the old woman's words broadcasting through the speaker. She looked from the camera to the old woman and back, wondering which one she should address.

"You'll want to know that it doesn't hurt a bit."

"Not even—"

"Not at all. I'm happy here."

She swallowed. "How can you be happy?"

"I'm fed, taken care of, and these PODs take me away from here and put me in a place where I'm a pirate queen. Can you imagine? Pirate Agnes." She laughed. "It's so much fun. I can even feel the wind in my face."

So much fun. Rebecca felt as if she'd taken a hit of acid and followed the white rabbit down a pirate hole. I'm a pirate queen. What had happened to everyone? Were they crazy? So much fun. Or was Rebecca the crazy one?

"What are those things?" Rebecca's breathing had returned to normal, but she still couldn't put a coherent thought to words.

"Transceivers that broadcast the status of my remaining organs to nodes. Green is good. Red is bad." The camera angled towards her own body. "They took my left kidney last month. I don't even notice the difference."

Rebecca swallowed. She needed to get hold of herself. She didn't know how much time she had. Maybe all that Singh had wanted was to prepare her. God knows this wasn't like anything she'd expected.

"Grandma," she began. "I—" She couldn't finish.

"I'm not what you expected to see, am I?"

"No..."

"David should have told you."

"David's dead." As abrupt as it was, she couldn't think of any other way to say it.

There was ten seconds of silence, then emotion poured into the woman's voice "David." Finally she managed to continue. "What happened to him?"

"Oh, grandma. Everything's gone wrong—people are dying all around me. It started with David." Standing at the foot of the bed, Rebecca hung her head, closed her eyes and pretended she was back in her childhood home, standing in front of her grandmother in her paisley chair. She told her about Kumi and the organs, David's stroke, about the Black Hearts, the police and subsequent escape with the help of the gravBoarders, and finally Olga's death. Through it all the old woman remained silent, listening as her granddaughter poured out her heart. When she finished, Rebecca kept her eyes closed. She'd created a place where she could speak to her grandmother without being reminded of the body encased by the monitoring bed.

Finally her grandmother spoke. "At a time like this I wish I was out of here so I could hug you. Oh dear Rebecca, life has been so hard on you. First prison for doing what you believed in, and now this." She sighed. "Now this."

"What should I do? Where should I go?"

"They're going to chase you forever, you know. You need to find out why they're after you. Let me ask you, do you think it's because of what happened when you were arrested?"

Hacking? All she'd done was send out some exploitation programs. She'd been trying to get information, not hurt anyone. No, it couldn't be because of that. "No."

"Then look at those who died and figure out what they have in common. The answer is there in front of you."

"I suppose you're right." Rebecca opened her eyes shattering the illusion. "Do you think David died because of me?"

"No, No." Rebecca could imagine her grandmother shaking her head.

"Do you think he was murdered?"

"What do you think?"

"I think so. I don't know how, but it was just too much of a coincidence."

"Sherlock Holmes didn't believe in coincidence."

"I wish he was here to help me."

"You'll figure it out, dear. You're smarter than all of us."

"I don't feel smart."

"It doesn't mean that you aren't."

Rebecca had needed this more than she'd known. She felt her grandmother's love and goodwill wash over her, scouring away her self-doubts and recriminations. To speak with her meant so much. Even as she was nearly less than human, her grandmother was the only one alive who loved Rebecca unconditionally. And it was this sense of belonging that empowered Rebecca.

She giggled suddenly.

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing." She wiped tears that had crept into her eyes. "It's just...that I came to rescue you, grandma."

Rebecca could almost picture the old woman smiling. "Rescue me from what?"

She gestured around the room with her hands. "From this place."

"But I don't need rescuing. I want to be here."

"I don't pretend to understand."

"You don't have to. It used to be that old age came with aches and pains. The mind slipped away. Friends died. But not anymore. This is the finest retirement I could have. I don't feel any pain. My mind is clear. And instead of living out my days as old dumpy Agnes Navarro, I'm a Pirate Queen sailing the Barbary Coast, scourge of the sea and feared by all." She finished with a chuckle that Rebecca eagerly joined. "No. Don't rescue me. Rescue yourself."

Andy suddenly burst into the room. He held the door open. "Come on, Bec. We gotta go!" He wore a POD over his left eye and immediately began subvocalizing commands.

"Andy?" The camera swiveled to see the door. "Is that you?"

"Hello, Ms. Navarro. Sorry, but I need to take Rebecca away from here now."

"You take care of her for me?"

"I'll do that."

"And Andy?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"I'll see you on the high seas."

"Arg, Mam.”

"Yes. Arg."