“I FOUND SOMETHING INTERESTING when you were picking up the car,” Ears informed Peter as they started their route to Eugenie Driver’s location. “I’ve been querying the varint community. Discreetly, of course.”

“And?” Peter asked.

He was interested in any information on their harassers. Local police were too busy quelling the growing number of disturbances around town. These events might be as simple as a bar fight between two college students who had different views on how to handle the perceived threats, or as complex as varints versus non-varints, churchgoers versus atheists, or Conservatives versus Progressives. The mayors of most cities had implemented nighttime curfews, and concealed carry rights were suspended after numerous standoffs and killings between heavily armed groups in the streets.

The impact of the obelisk’s arrival was even worse around the globe. Authoritarian governments clamped down on citizens, many of whom were beginning to revolt openly, assuming they had nothing to lose since they all might die soon, anyway.

Strongly democratic countries also had their share of growing challenges with divergent narratives being amplified and exacerbated in the media. These differences were acted out viscerally on live video to the benefit of media ratings and advertising spend.

Ears sighed. “Brother, what’s left to like in the world? We were kind of getting along, even varints and nons, and we were making it work little by little. I felt humans and hybrids were adapting to the changes, despite the pace of change.”

“And?” Peter repeated, winding through the narrow streets of North Boston while keeping an eye on his rear-view mirror. “I don’t see anybody following. What interesting things did you find?”

“Huh, you could believe it might happen, and then it does.”

“Stop beating around the bush, dude.”

“The grippers. But actually, it’s the mechs, the guys on the far end of the robotic augmentation scale. Increasing numbers of those types these days. The body parts these guys are augmenting makes those old Marvel comics movies appear tame. At least in those cases, there were only a few devious machines. Nobody could foresee that reality would go Hollywood full throttle when Joe Blow on the street gained the ability to mech himself or herself. But I’m one to talk,” he admitted, referring to his penchant for augmenting ears onto his body.

“Ears, you never let augmentations get to you. I’m sure you were the same guy before you started your personal journey. Molli and I were lucky to find you along the way.”

“It’s too easy to flip to the other side, though, and perceive you’re no longer human. That you’re more advanced, like Homo superiorum or Homo mechanicum. My Latin’s not so good, but you understand.”

“I’ll say it again. And?”

“And I’m seeing vicious talk in the feeds. Threats against anyone stirring the pot.”

“I don’t see the connection. We aren’t stirring the pot, we don’t have a million listeners, and there are a few dozen other pods like ours.”

“With one big difference. We’re here in Boston, in augmentation-central across the globe, with the top scientists and engineers. It’s amplified in this town, therefore we get more notice.”

“Doesn’t make sense they’d be angry at us innocents, much less pissed enough to trash my garage and car,” Peter complained.

“I don’t understand, either. Perhaps we should get a mech on the show. By the way, I booked this guy named William, but we’re using ‘the Bard’ as his pseudonym.”

“Why that name?”

Ears wanted to show him a quick visual of the obelisk once again but was without his phone per their agreement, as was Peter. They were also unwilling to use the car’s internet system for fear of hackers who might track them.

“It’s this idea of these obelisk glyphs referring to nanobots invading the poor souls on that planet. William is a nano-robotic guru from a university I can’t even share with you. He proposes we fight fire with fire. I believe the Bard coined that term centuries ago.”

“Could be interesting. Our nanobots defending against alien nano invaders. Oh, here we are.”

They exited the car in front of a five-story brownstone and knocked on a large, wooden door. It was one of the more expensive parts of town on a dead-end street near the old North Church in Little Italy. The area was unusually quiet since most families were indoors, glued to the unceasing onslaught of shocking media reports.

A well-dressed, petite gray-haired woman answered, her small white poodle hiding timidly behind her legs. She wore glasses, non-auggies, and the wrinkles at her eyes and forehead spoke of many years of research in white lab coats. They settled-in for the twenty-minute interview.

“You will modify my voice, I presume?” she inquired.

“Yes,” Peter confirmed. “Molli, my technical guru, should show up any minute if you have questions on how we’ll do that. I prefer not to waste your time waiting.”

“Can you use your cellphones to call her?”

Ear and Peter glanced at each other. They didn’t plan to expose the trouble that seemed to be following them.

“We’re in the media, yes, but we’re all on media and device diets, so she’s inaccessible,” he fibbed. “We’ll use this little Sony recorder. It should pick up the interview without issue, then we’ll get back to our laptops and use software to disguise your voice. Sound okay?”

“Fine,” she assured them. “Let’s get to business.”

Peter avoided the usual introduction, assuming he and Molli would dub that in before setting the interview up to stream. He started the Sony.

“Can you briefly cover your background and areas of knowledge?”

“No,” she responded. “You’ll need to trust my expertise. I know people, and my connections are at the highest levels. I’m not just talking with my hairdresser about these things, mind you.”

She didn’t smile at that comment.

“Well,” Peter offered, “let’s do it without that background info, then. Because your field is genetics and gene drives, we’ll use the name Eugenie. Eugenie Driver, if that’s okay.”

“Nominally creative, but fine with me.”

“Eugenie, the world seems to be spinning in disarray since the obelisk arrived a few weeks ago,” Peter started. “How will gene drives help us through this immediate challenge?”

She signaled her poodle to jump next to her on the opulent white couch arrayed with red roses and gold thread.

“Let’s assume the threat is real and imminent for a minute. If that’s the case, we’re likely doomed.”

“Why is that?” Peter queried.

“There won’t be enough time to elicit an effective response. Remember a few decades ago when the Republicans wanted to erect a huge wall to keep Latinos from crossing the border? They barely got started on it after four years. Definitely nowhere near as fast as planned. Besides, these aren’t only a few hundred beleaguered Latinos searching each day for a better place to live in peace. This is beyond our scope of imagination, and no border wall will help.”

“Are you saying it’s too late to try to respond to an alien threat?”

“By no means. In testing the obelisk and its carbon protector, the scientific community determined it is not from Earth. If true, and if the deadly threat is speeding across the stellar turnpike on its way here, then we must create a window of opportunity through which you, myself and others can escape, or at least fight back.”

“You mentioned an effective response. What is the effective response that genetics can provide?”

“It’s not genetics per se,” she volunteered. “That’s far too broad. Yet, the solution does include gene drives.”

“We’ve seen gene drives come of age in the most recent years, and we might agree there are multiple secondary effects – not all good, either. Look at the ability in the new accelerator or scroll tech to implement lasting changes instantly in extant individuals. Observe the ready availability of geedee kits for grade schoolers, for example. Kids making genetically modified bacteria. Many predict multiple accidents are waiting to happen,” Peter warned.

“But we, society, are controlling that to a fair degree,” she insisted. “We continue to police black-market proliferation of the more volatile scroll capabilities. We keep tabs on homemade, unlicensed crap code that creates unfortunate off-target consequences like the poor hybrid souls we see hobbling along the streets. At the same time, we are researching various means of counteracting and reversing most deleterious effects of bad geedee tech. That aside, I didn’t admit you into my home to discuss that which is known and being worked. I need to discuss what is possible when pursuing the unknown.”

Peter could see she was getting defensive on the topic. Avoiding that deeper pit, he followed her lead.

“The unknown what?”

“The unknown but advantageous regions into which gene drives can propel humanity,” she proclaimed, casually petting her dog.

“Okay, discussing where humanity could go sounds a little philosophical for a science show. Can you elaborate on what you mean?”

She placed her glasses on the coffee table between them.

“Accelerator or scroll technology has shown us emergent properties that we can neither predict nor imagine beforehand. Mind you, we’ve seen evidence of the more obvious body enhancements and modifications in the last few years, from superhuman strength to vastly improved cognitive capabilities in the elderly. The positives and negatives are intertwined, as is typical in life, and passing judgment on what should be done with this tech simply depends on one’s perspective. But back to the point. I am proposing we let gene drive accelerator technology go.”

Peter cocked his head in question. “Go? Go where?”

The lady cupped her hands together. “Go wherever it needs to go.”

He was surprised at her nonspecific response. “You mean remove a few federal and global regulations on the technologies?”

“I mean remove all regulations, young man. There’s no time for a detailed explanation. As I indicated a minute ago, we will undoubtedly face aliens with advanced technologies beyond anything imaginable. Planning for what this might look like is beyond our cognitive capabilities today or even centuries in the future, augmented or not.”

Peter was still confused. “I’m not entirely getting the picture.”

“I’m proposing to loosen all artificial restrictions we’ve placed upon our future selves. Aided by these amazing new technologies within our grasp, let’s allow Darwin’s natural selection to run its due course.”

“You’re suggesting we remove global restrictions on all tech, across the board? Genetics, AI, artificial life, and the assortment of other recent discoveries?”

“I can’t state this more clearly. For humanity and its future derivatives to survive this threat, we must play catch-up immediately. We must expand our cognitive and physical realms far, far beyond the existing human state. Good things will naturally come about from that, as well as more effective defenses.”

“You speak of natural selection. Gene drives and scroll accelerator technology aren’t exactly nature, right?” Peter asked.

“Wrong, young man, at least in the eyes of this beholder. Consider how we discovered CRISPR tech in the first place. It was a bacterial capability where genetic material was sliced from an invading virus then incorporated into the organism’s own defensive capabilities. We adapted and enhanced it for our own use and have greatly advanced generations of this tech. That’s a derivation of nature.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“You’re suggesting we find aliens and incorporate their DNA? I mean, what if they aren’t DNA-based?”

“No, you’re missing my point, Peter, so I’ll repeat. Any sentient alien life form we encounter will be far beyond our limited mentality. This implies we must elevate to a new level of thought, of existence, of who and what defines the essential nature of humanity and its derivatives. I am arguing that we must do as the bacteria did. We must rapidly evolve ourselves in this period of severe threat to our species, enabling new concepts for defensive and growth capabilities. And we should not be reticent or timid, considering the challenge. We must explore every possibility to advance genetic and cognitive acceleration in humans and hybrids, across the board.”

Peter sat back to consider her proposal, knowing he could edit-out the pauses. “In other words, we should give the world freedom to do whatever it wants to with regard to human cognition, machine and data connection capabilities, and hybridization?”

“We can’t be naïve. If this country doesn’t do it, then other countries will. In fact, I am certain some are doing it now, throwing their inhibitions aside and damning any international agreements. We know this activity is happening now and simply choose to ignore that reality. Many countries were on this path even before the obelisk arrived. Its appearance only hastens the inevitability.”

“Wait,” he demanded. “Beyond what others are doing, I want us to focus on the implications. Are you implying that humans must evolve into a different realm of what is humanity?”

“Aren’t we there now? It’s only a matter of time and degree. We will come to this obvious and painful and wonderful realization at a date not long from now, assuming we get the chance before any ruthless, but not toothless, aliens arrive.”

She laughed at her own joke, but Peter and Ears stayed dead serious given the topic.

“Hmm,” Peter responded, “and where does this stop?”

“Good question,” she replied, almost giddy. “I don’t know where or when, but all technology naturally plateaus. Look at the universe, galaxies, solar systems, and planets. We aren’t finding solar systems with a hundred planets orbiting a star, right? An elephant can’t be a thousand times its size. There are natural limits on capabilities driven by sheer physics or natural selection. I’m suggesting we use this known technology, the same tech that has done so many good things for humans and varints thus far, to be the enabler that gives us a better chance for survival if attacked.”

Peter sighed loudly and looked at Ears, who himself was a product of geedee tech. “Eugenie, this has been a very intriguing discussion, and we appreciate your insights. However, we’re reaching our time limit. What else might you add for our listeners?”

“Just this. We can consider other defense strategies and spend many trillions of dollars preparing for something that may or may not come to annihilate us. But if we don’t expand our mental and visionary capacity as a species, as a group of beings inhabiting this planet, then we stand little chance in eliciting a proper defense. I’m proposing we supercharge our fighting capacities by augmenting our mental and physical abilities with genetics, AI, and synthetic biology, among other things, then let nature take its course. All within the realm of key constructs.”

“Hold on. Let’s extend a minute. What key constructs do you mean?” Peter wondered.

“The constructs of humanity that are rapidly evolving. Consider a parallel to the days of Homo Sapiens, Neanderthals and Denisovans. Eventually, one wins out. As mental and physical capacities of what once was an unaugmented human race begin to explode with augmentations and similar variations, we must be aware of the inevitable incongruence that occurs when mixed breeds and intelligences are in proximity with each other. To do this, we might develop a common global construct for inter-species acceptance. Otherwise, the strongest will always come out on top and the others will naturally be sloughed-off. Effectively eliminated. Ultimately, the one on top may not even end up being a hominid, but may be a pure mech, non-hominid, or even non-biologic. The question is not whether we’ll get there, because we will regardless. It’s how, how quickly, and how humanely.”

Peter gasped. “Whew! That is another great topic. Since we must stop for now, we should come back to discuss this another day.”

She motioned for them to stay a moment longer. “One last comment, and it’s worth reiterating. Imagine a world of a hundred sentient species that started from the same root but are now significantly different from each other. We are accelerating to this new world of tremendous variations in humanity’s creations, protoplasm-based or not. This will engender inevitable disparities, disagreements and migrations of similar individuals that want to congregate together. I predict a rush of procreation or other means of dominion by the more powerful and successful species. Even attempts to limit the viability of the less viable, whatever that looks like. If we don’t self-annihilate before then, this is the certain destiny of our future Earth whether we like it or not.”

“Whew!” Peter exhorted. “And on that final note, I do need to close the podcast. Eugenie, we appreciate speaking with you and hearing your perspectives on this interesting topic.”

Peter closed the podcast, thanked the woman, and hopped back into the car with Ears.

“My God, how controversial this interview will be! Too bad Molli never showed,” he observed. “I wonder what happened?”

Ears shook his head. “With crazy sauce cooking in the big bowl of Boston beans, I’m worried about everything nowadays. She probably called but we don’t have our phones.”

“Yeah. Hey, there’s a great pasta place around the corner with its own imported Barbera vino. What do you say?”

“Perfecto!” Ears shouted. “But that means we’ll be incommunicado with Molli for that much longer.”

“She’s a kung fu expert who could waste me in a millisecond, so I’m assuming she can handle herself. We’ll bring her takeout.”

After eating, Ears and Peter drove back to the condo where Ears lived. It was well-guarded location with retinal scan on gate entry. Living there was not cheap for Ears, but it was a favorite location for wealthier Boston varints who were sometimes discouraged from living in other places, despite nondiscrimination laws recently passed to include varints.

They opened the door and rushed to grab their phones. Peter couldn’t find his in the spare bedroom.

“Ears, have you seen my phone?”

“No,” he responded. “Lost it again? I’ll call it.”

Ears dialed the number, and Peter located it under the couch.

“Hey, I see no messages from Molli.”

“Odd. She doesn’t show up for Eugenie’s interview, and no messages? I don’t see anything on my phone, either.”

Ears then voice-dialed her.

“Goes right to messaging. I told her so many times to change that damn greeting – lots of noise, bus going by, very loud, kills my ears. It’s her subtle effort to look busy, I suppose. I’ll hack into it and re-do.”

“This is so unlike her,” Peter muttered with a worried frown. “All this crazy crap is happening to me, and I’m hoping it doesn’t rub off on you guys.”

* * *

Molli sat in silence in the wooden chair she had tripped over a few hours before. She was tired of screaming and pounding the metal walls, and her palms were sore. Although her prison was pitch dark, she had investigated the walls thoroughly and was surprised at how smooth they were.

She estimated the room at eight feet by thirty feet. There was no doorknob or latch, and the only irregularity she discovered was a small rectangular door her captors used to place her in the room while she was unconscious. She could sense the subtle whoosh of air from a vent above but couldn’t determine how high the ceiling was.

Replaying the events in her mind, she whispered them to herself.

“I was at the drug store. Didn’t notice anything suspicious, and I’m trained to notice. I’m sensitive to this. Are you that thick-headed, girl? I’m overconfident, obviously, because I parked the car in a dark spot. Jesus, after so many years of training, and one mistake gets you. Stop it, Molli. Blame is not helpful.”

She paced slowly. “I paid the lady at the register, and nobody was in line behind me. I don’t recall anyone else in the store due to this damn media frenzy. They are either out at a bar or in their homes watching screens and feeds. Stop these diversions and think clearly!”

After calming herself, she continued to slowly pace.

“I walked out to the car and saw nothing unusual. In a stupid hurry, I didn’t assume something could go wrong. I was almost to Eugenie’s in North Boston and felt overly concerned about the quality of the podcast using a tiny little recorder. I was worrying and not in the moment, as I always am.”

She hung her head. “Oh, God. Stupidity infinitum. I must not have locked the car! How could someone get in without the alarm sounding unless it wasn’t locked? I didn’t get that click when I pressed the fob button.”

She peered down to her feet in the blackness.

“Why are my shoes removed? They’ve done nothing to me that I’m aware. Must have used a knock-out drug. I don’t recall a rag over my face, but was there a hiss? Oh, yeah. I recall a hiss when I got in and an acrid smell – then I awoke on this cold steel floor, like a railcar without features. No, it’s not a railcar, but I know what this must be. It’s a storage unit; one of those transportables.”

Realizing this, Molli moved her hands along the long wall until she came to a place where it met the shorter wall.

“There it is. A seam.”

She then checked the area where the inner lock might be and sensed a barely noticeable, hand-sized ripple in the metal.

“They welded it, then sanded and painted over. Now you’re using your gray matter, girl.”

She sat in a lotus pose on the floor.

“Concentrate, Molli. Focus on one point. The calm and clarity of one point. Good, good. Okay, let the thoughts and fears sink. They used a knock-out drug, an aerosol. They’ll need to come back to get me, no doubt, for whatever purpose. How long can you hold your breath, girl? Start practicing. That one time was over five minutes, but your lungs were burning. What of those two people on that sunken boat in Thailand? They said they went ten, without training, but I know it can be longer. A swimmer also. I recall news about a Spanish swimmer who went over twenty minutes. I can do this.”

Molli kept very still. “Attune your ears. Stay very calm and burn little energy. Listen for change in the hiss from above.”

Time passed slowly while Molli was entranced, hyper-aware of every second. Her prison was silent beyond the sound of the incoming air. Then she heard a distant click, took a quick sniff, and caught an acrid smell.

“That’s it. Your last breath. Now, one point. One point.”

A few minutes passed, and her lungs were aflame. “I can go no longer. Must breathe.”

She heard a snap of metal at the small door, exhaled her stale air and laid back on the floor as if she had fallen there. She knew she lasted long enough for them to air-out the enclosure.

Light entered her closed eyes, and the telltale sound of mech motors embedded in flesh and bone filled the room. The mech crawled part of the way into the makeshift prison and dragged her out by the feet.

As soon as she was clear of the enclosure, Molli went to work. Looking her captor straight in the eyes, she extracted his larynx with a single, focused finger strike. As he fell, she watched him shake uncontrollably, suffocating in his own blood.

At the same moment she struck him, however, he whacked the right side of her back with one of his mechanically assisted arms. The pain was excruciating, and she fought to avoid passing out. Each breath was labored as she tried to inhale and exhale from her left, uninjured side.

Ignoring the pain, Molli searched her surroundings. She was in an unkempt, open field fully obscured by trees. Nearby was a small car with an attached trailer. A long, metallic air conditioning duct ran from the trailer into her prison. Scanning the field, she noticed a road leading between the trees.

“That little son-of-a bitch. Didn’t even see him clip me, he was that fast. I can’t get out of here alone, not in this shape. Won’t make it.”

The mech was face-down in the dirt. The blood had stopped flowing from his exposed throat.

“Cellphone,” she winced, “please have a cellphone. Don’t be a damn chipped mech. I need a real phone I can use.”

She crouched over and cried out from pain, then searched his pockets, finally locating an old iPhone.

“Thank God,” she whimpered, dialing 9-1-1.

* * *

Peter was pacing back and forth in the hospital waiting room. “We must see her. Please let us inside.”

The older woman, neatly dressed in her pink and white cotton hospital garb, finally gave him a nod. “They just cleared to visit. Both of you.”

Peter and Ears hurried to her room. A detective was finishing with her and raised his hand up for them to wait. Closing the door, they both stood nervously outside.

When the door opened, the detective waved them in, and they rushed to her bedside.

“Stop guys, stop the fawning, and don’t touch the ribs. Five cracked.”

Ears grabbed an arm on her right, and Peter took her hand on the left.

“Is this a freaking tennis match? Can’t you guys get on one side?”

Ears scooted over to the side of the bed where Peter sat and grabbed her calf instead.

“Glad you’re alive,” they echoed.

“Me too, but not so for my little mech friend. You know, you can train at this for years, but you can’t train for taking somebody out. You feel bad, even for a mech. He’s still somewhat human, after all.”

“But he kidnapped you!” Ears yelped.

“Yes, but for what purpose?”

“Lung okay? Liver okay?” Ears inquired.

“They assume so, at least no internal bleeding. This new pain medicine is damn effective, but I don’t think my head is in a cloud.”

Molli then recounted the episode for them.

“And no news from the police yet?” Peter queried.

“Not that they can tell me. This guy had no priors. Dropped out of college in year three and was associated with mech groups on his socials. Jesus, I don’t need those guys on my tail. I still feel bad I took him out, just the same.”

“You’re alive, and that’s what matters,” Peter reassured her.

“This strengthened my resolve, though, for what we’re doing with the show. We can’t give up now because of this event or your car and garage incidents. The PD should figure out if these events are tied together. I sense something’s building here, something important. Could be the drugs, though, and they’re making me sleepy.”

Ears moved to the end of the bed to cover her exposed toes with a sheet.

“When is the boyfriend arriving?”

Molli rolled her eyes and sighed, “Tomorrow. Out on another business trip, as usual. Funny, though . . .”

“What’s funny about him?” Peter asked.

“Funny that when I was kneeling on the ground, waiting for the ambulance, I wasn’t thinking of Todd. He didn’t even cross my mind. I could only see you, Peter, and how you might react if I died.”

Peter was uncomfortable with the implications of her comment. “Not so pleased, and poor Ears would be forced to do the audio.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” she cried.

“My God, I forgot to mention,” Ears interrupted. “While you were in your steel cage there, we interviewed Eugenie Driver. I loaded it on our site. We already have two hundred thousand downloads even though the show doesn’t stream until later today! Big time pod stars.”

“Great,” Molli agreed. “Now, I’m laying here in this disgustingly thin gown that exposes how flat I am. Looking terrible, messed hair, drugged-up, bad breath, and taped ribs. I need rest.”

Ears did not want to leave her alone. “Can we guard your room?”

“My other friends are already on target with that. Both my cop buddy and kung fu brothers and sisters, so I’ll be fine. You boys go home and get the next one done without me. Who’s next?”

“AlexG, as in Mister Bell. Do you remember?” Ears asked.

Molli thought for a second, carefully brushing her hair back. “Yeah, he’s calling all friendly aliens. Sorry I’ll miss it, but I should be out of here soon. Not much these folks can do with broken ribs.”

“We’ll come in every day, every hour, or whenever you’ll have us,” Peter assured her.

“Not when I look like this, you won’t.”

“Molli, you are beautifully alive. That’s all we care about,” Peter expressed, squeezing her hand.

“Don’t damage the merch, as I’ve had enough broken bones for one day. Now, leave and let me sleep.”

As Peter gently placed her hand back on the bed, it occurred to him that this was the hand that did it, that killed the mech who kidnapped her. He couldn’t release the image from his mind – a sweet, thin, gentle hand, the hand on the audio mixer, capable of doing such damage to a human being, much less a loaded mech.

“Funny she mentioned seeing you when she was in trouble,” Ears quipped after they left her room.

“She’s delirious. Couldn’t you tell? We’ll get the real story when the drugs wear off.”

“People say your real desires are exposed when sedatives are coursing through your veins. Now, let’s eat lunch if you’re okay with hospital food. It’s cheap and easy.”

“Ears, bud, with five-star restaurants on every street corner in this city, you pursue the oddest places for food. But let’s try it,” he grunted as they turned toward the commissary.

“I can hardly wait for our next interviews,” Ears added.