It took a few minutes for me to be warm again. Don’t get me wrong, I was dressed appropriately… well mostly. But there had been a bit of a cold spell the last few days. On days like this, I almost wished that global warming had not been reversed quite so thoroughly.
It had begun even before the great war when the fusactor was introduced. If only China could have waited another decade or so for all of it to take effect.
It allowed the reclamation of greenhouse gases, reduced their new emission as well, and in combination with the grav coils and asteroid mining, it virtually eliminated most industrial pollution within a couple of years… after the war had ended.
Of course, that was in general a positive thing. Only on days like this, when a late October day was cold, wet, and essentially freezing, it was a bit of a drag.
Fortunately, the four f33 in the basement did not even need to run at 25% power to provide everything the fortress needed. Heck, just Monday I found Natalie and Christine sunbathing by the pool. Why, I could not understand. Especially as the cover might be transparent, for visible light that is, but it filtered around 90% of ultraviolet light.
We were a bit late for lunch, with all the introductions and revelations, but nothing too bad. It was a simple lunch anyway, that lent itself to be kept warm long.
Just a simple tomato soup, made from scratch by Natalie and Jacky. In addition to that, we would make fresh, toasted sandwiches. Nothing fancy, just simple things like ham, cheese, and such things. And freshly baked bread. To be honest, our consumption of flour had exploded over the last few months when people learned how to bake, but that was ok. It was the only stuff we still bought from the black market, just now in bulk.
I personally showed the platoon their rooms, I had decided to give them the rooms on the 4th floor, while the Lieutenant and his noncoms would get suites on the 3rd floor. The Lieutenant and the Sergeant each in one, and the two corporals would share a two-bedroom suite.
After some additional silent conversation with Warden, I decided to put the flight crew into the remaining suites on the 3rd floor. A two-bedroom for the two pilots, and a three-bedroom for the three technicians.
That meant I had only the 18 rooms in the west wing left open, and the other big suite on the 5th floor.
It was stupid, but I seriously considered adding to the building. Or maybe convert the unused offices in the north wing into another set of rooms.
When I showed Thomson to his suite, I encountered Major Burke again. Needless to say that he was not a single bit more pleasant.
“Ah, there you are. The rooms are adequate, thank you. Can you now arrange for us to be brought to this Enki-HQ you talked about? I want this whole assignment to be over as soon as possible.”
Adequate, huh? While I grew up in poverty, I knew quite well what counted as ‘adequate’ in the Commonwealth, and the suite he stepped out of was not it. Sure, it was not the height of luxury, but it was high-end.
But whatever. If he wanted to be in a snit, so be it. He would be out of my hair in a few weeks, and so I shrugged.
“I can. Or we can wait until after lunch if you want to eat with us. It is your decision.”
Burke only held his nose high. “Hmpf, the food is the same anywhere anyway, so no need to wait.”
Yeah, thought so. His loss. Well, it would still take around 20 minutes, maybe 30 before all the sandwiches were finished, so there was no harm in sending one of our pilots to bring them over.
“As you wish.” I messaged Warden so that she would call Ryan or Justin, whoever was free right then, to take the 675 to fly Burke and his people to Enki-HQ. Yes, I could have let them use the T240, but, well call me petty, but Burke’s behavior did not make me very generous.
“I’ve sent a message to my pilots. One of them will meet you in the garage to bring you over. Please call when you are done for the day and somebody will come and get you.”
He harumphed another time and turned around without any hint of courtesy. Well, he could play those games if he wanted. If he thought he could ‘put me in my place’ that way, I’ve been worked on by worse jerks.
I used that time to let the scientists know about lunch, while Lieutenant Thomas and his crew already knew about it.
On the way to the mess hall, I tasked Warden to communicate with Vandermeer about jacks for Wakefield and his group.
In the mess hall, I found it for the first time half full of people. To be honest, I had to stop at the door and calm myself down. Way too many people in way too small a space for my taste. I felt Ben’s hand on my shoulder when he gave me one of his half hugs, to help me over my… well anxiety.
It still took me nearly half a minute to build up the will to go in there. It had taken me weeks to get used to the eight other people who, at that time occasionally, shared this big room with me. Right now, we were with 45 people in it.
Still, I had to tough it through. Jacky was busy cutting the bread while Natalie was giving the last polish to the soup. Fortunately, we had planned this meal with the guests in mind, and had even built in some slack, so there was enough for all of them.
I led Thomson, Reynolds, Longobardi, Ingridsdottir, the Wakefields, the Vaughns, as well as Oliver and his wife who still remained nameless to the counter.
“Today’s lunch is relatively simple. A bowl of tomato soup and a sandwich you can build yourself. We have several variants of lunch meat, some fish, young cheeses, cream cheese, vegetables, pickles, and relishes. We can toast the final product for you if you want to.”
Mrs. Wakefield frowned, not disapproving but confused.
“Why so many variants? I mean does it really make a difference what color your processed mush has?”
I snorted.
“Processed mush, I have to remember that one. And no, unless you want this processed mush, nothing here comes from a replicator.”
Before Mrs. Wakefield could answer, Olliver interrupted with:
“Ick. Please don’t tell me that this is this primitive stuff that is all the rage right now. If you offer real food, please show me to the replicator.”
I raised my eyebrow, and saw Jacky wilt, while Natalie turned red, and not the embarrassed version, but the angry one. Before either of us could react though, Dr. Vaughn scornfully talked to her colleague:
“Oh, stop embarrassing yourself, Ollie, and more important us! We all already know you are an idiot, so you don’t have to prove it again and again. Now as I see it, those nice young women have prepared some food for us, and I intend to actually try it. If you don’t that is most likely your loss, but don’t make us others look bad with your behavior.”
Olliver turned a similar shade of red as Natalie and nearly exploded:
“You are not the boss of me, Sarah! I will thank you for keeping out of it.”
I knew that I was not quite the definition of interpersonal grace and friendliness, but sheesh, there seemed to be some bad blood here.
“It is your decision. There is a high-quality food replicator there on this wall, behind the cabinet doors.”
I pointed to the wall where we had hidden the barely used replicator.
“And I would appreciate it if you kept your opinion about food to yourself. Especially as you will learn that you are in the minority here.”
He was still very much red, and still not in an awkward way, but he simply huffed, grabbed the hand of his wife, and pulled her towards the replicator. To her credit, she looked less than enthused by the turn of events.
I on the other hand continued to the people gathered around me:
“As I was saying, this is real meat, real cheese, real vegetables. That means everything has its own taste. Be careful as not everything goes with everything else though. Those of us who are a bit more experienced with this type of food will help you out of course, but you have to ask.”
Mrs. Wakefield looked over the spread of possible ingredients and then back at me.
“But… how? I have looked into what real food costs. And it is astronomical. How can you afford to prepare all that?”
I smiled:
“For one, we did not prepare it for you. We prepare it in batches and use it up over the course of a week or so. Normally it is in the fridge and when you want a sandwich you cut the bread and prepare it for yourself.”
I tilted my head.
“And the only thing we bought is the flour that was used to bake the bread. For the rest, I told you about the new cloning tech. One particular property of it is that it has no toxicity buildup. That means vat meat is now working and fully consumable. We can also clone plants, like herbs or vegetables. Or fruits, if you want them. That means this… “
I pointed to the counter:
“is only marginally more expensive than the food from the replicator. More work, yes, but only the bread did cost any money.”
Dr. Wakefield looked at the food and frowned:
“How can you be sure that there is no toxic buildup? Wasn’t it the case that it had been discovered only years later?”
I smiled and shook my head.
“I will explain later how, but I am 100% sure that it does not poison you, or us. Trust me, this food is safe. But let’s be real, even if it wasn’t, as you said, the toxicity was only discovered after years, because the singular meal had so little impact. So, one meal makes no difference.”
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Dr. Wakefield still looked unsure, but Dr. Vaughn looked all over the spread and then turned to me:
“You said you have meat vats and can clone plants… but where does the cheese come from?”
I shrugged, but still smiled:
“That is the result of my last steps in that trajectory. Ben here asked me to look into getting milk and eggs. That was in… July, wasn’t it?”
When I looked at Ben, he smiled and nodded.
“4th of July to be exact.”
So I continued:
“Well, as I said, that was in July. It took me a bit to create a bacterium that makes milk, and the eggs were a real piece of work, but in the end, I found a way to literally clone them. That means anything but grain products, which can not be economically cloned yet, we can make real food cheap and safe.”
I waved at the counter again.
“And much tastier.”
Dr. Vaughn looked at me incredulously.
“And you are still claiming that you are no good in biology? Seriously?”
I waved dismissively.
“Get real. Creating the bacteria was utterly basic. There are textbook examples that go step by step on how to have bacteria make proteins and enzymes. There are even computer programs that do the hard work for you. If anybody had bothered to try it we could have had milk for a hundred years by now.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she had no argument against what I had said. And for sure, there was no argument against it. Yes, the bacteria in question had to be a tad more complex than what we used for insulin, but come on, that was not that much of a problem.
I had by now created my two sandwiches. One with beef and a cheese sauce, some pickles, and tomato slices. I had stopped eating raw onions because they always gave me violent gas, and as such, I left them by the side.
The other was a simple toasted ham and cheese, with some cream cheese. I showed my guests how to use the toasting ovens so that they could make their own creations.
Olliver and his wife finally came back with a couple of much more ordinary replicator sandwiches. Yes, I had gotten the high-quality replicators some time ago, I mean, we could not have somebody make food from scratch for every single meal, and especially for breakfast the replicator was convenient, but it was just no comparison to real food.
At the table, Olliver scrunched his nose over what we others were having, while his wife looked envious. Sorry, but if she lets her man decide what she eats, it was her own dang fault.
The others were at first a bit cautious but then were devouring the food as if they had not eaten for a year.
Of course, Olliver wanted to talk shop, but I informed him that we would not talk about business at the table. A couple of times.
What we were doing though was finishing the introductions. Mrs. Wakefield had Ellen as her first name, while Mr. Vaughn was known as Charles. Olliver was Dr. Olliver Mitchell, while his wife was Sophia Mitchell.
It was not surprising that the folks from the Commonwealth who had gotten small portions and a single sandwich each quickly got seconds, and then thirds.
But finally, lunch was over, and while most of them were patting their bellies and looking at the large pot with the remaining soup wistfully, Olliver looked as if he had bitten into a lemon.
By then Warden had me sent the answer from Vandermeer. She had negotiated that the six researchers would get an ultra-jack with a cranial board for Ȼ1000 each, or around $2300. That was a bit more than our production cost, but on the other hand, it was insanely cheap for Vandermeer.
Warden, in all her efficiency, had already started a NADA to make the jacks. To be precise, she had tasked my three small NADAs to make the package for the scientists and my guard detail.
After we were making our way to the biology lab I spoke to them about it.
“I have contacted Vandermeer, and we came to an agreement. He pays a, significantly discounted, price for your jacks. We make a bit above our production costs.
We decided to provide you with the full package, including what we call the cranial board, which is essentially an implanted com. And before you ask, believe me when I tell you, it is worth it.
And just for your information, we sell this package right now for Ȼ3 million.”
Sophia spoke, nearly for the first time:
“Wait, Ȼ3 million? How can we ever repay that?”
I shook my head.
“Please, we sell it for that amount. But that is mostly for exclusivity. It costs us less than Ȼ600 to make it. And you have to pay nothing. Vandermeer is paying Ȼ1000 for each of you.”
Olliver though could not let it rest.
“But… how can you justify taking that much money if it only costs you around Ȼ600?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Because we are the only ones offering it. And I don’t know if you understood what I was saying, but this is the absolute top-of-the-line. This is aimed at CEOs, heads-of-state, corporate execs, very important researchers, and officials. We make it exclusive, and that is reflected in the price.”
“But… but that is not fair.”
I saw Dr. Vaughn facepalm, and Aaron Wakefield balled his fists and rolled his eyes.
I looked at Olliver for a moment trying to discern if he was serious. Unfortunately, he seemed to be.
“If you show me where exactly it is written that the universe is in any way fair, I might look into it. But my experience is that it is anything but.”
I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. While Justin moved himself discretely into a position from where he could quickly intervene, mirrored by Cpl. Ingridsdottir and the two men of her squad.
“But if it is so valuable, then everybody should have access to it.”
“Do you have any idea what makes it valuable? It is a better, faster version of the jacks we sell for a significantly lower price. Well, the jack that is. The cranial board is indeed exclusive, but everybody can do most of it with his com, even though it is external. It is a convenience and security feature. But you are entitled to your opinion. You don’t have to accept the implants if you don’t want them.”
That did obviously not sit well with Olliver, but there was exactly nothing he could do against it.
Not that I particularly cared about his opinion anyway. By now, he had proven to be completely disagreeable. I would work with him, to the extent that he worked with me, but that was it. I had significantly more sympathy for his wife, who I pegged as the suffering party in this marriage.
“The important thing is, in a couple of hours your implants will be ready, and then you have to decide on the order. The surgery takes roughly fifteen minutes, but we have to use Epzitecan, so it will put you out for at least 12 hours. And unfortunately, I only have three auto surgeons.”
Yes, I had used the industrial fabber and the NADAs to make the new version of my auto surgeon. I mean, why not? I have to test it don’t I? And another auto surgeon is always good, especially if we make it into an auto doc.
By then we had reached the bio lab. I am the first who concedes that my bio lab was not quite the most impressive. Nothing compared to my material science lab or my physics lab. But it was pretty functional, in my opinion.
In the lab, I gestured at the table.
“Now, I think it is time to talk about what we can expect. I promised to explain why I am convinced that the vat meat is safe to consume. Well, it all goes back to the CRS-free cyberware. Creating a way to protect myosynth from CRS was relatively easy. But it was expensive. The original prototype I created was using nanobots to transport modified stem cells of the recipient to the needed position.
But the whole process was so sensitive to outside influence that I could not use beamed energy. That meant the bots brought the cells where they were needed and essentially died there, integrating themselves into the biolayer. That burned around Ȼ260 worth of bots each day. For a simple cybernetic heart, the simplest I could find. And it took almost 40 days to get it done.”
Dr. Wakefield whistled appropriately, while Charles Vaughn nearly popped out his eyes.
“Obviously, that was not a permanent solution. Unfortunately, the obvious ‘solution’, using a cloning process to place the cells, did not work, thanks to the toxicity build-up. That… made me look into where this build-up actually came from, and, me being an engineer deep in my heart, searched for an engineering solution to my problem. What I found was an engineering tool to find the solution instead.
I have developed some new nanobots with the function of observing microscopic processes, like biochemical ones, and used those new bio-observation-units, or BOU to see what the cloning processes actually did, how they worked on a molecular level. I wanted to find a growth accelerant that would only produce acceptable levels of toxicity.
What I found was why all growth accelerants produce toxicity, and more importantly, how to circumvent the problem altogether. In short, the GAs, all of them, work by forcing the cell to convert part of their compound into bioenergy, while some other part triggers the division. The first part is… inefficient and generates waste products.”
I smiled into the round.
“You have three guesses where the toxicity comes from. Needless to say, after that creating a toxic-free cloning process was trivial. Instead of forcing the cell to convert chemical x into bioenergy, I use nanobots to deliver bioenergy in pure form.
No more waste products, and because the cell doesn’t have to work on converting it, it is six times faster than the fastest competition product. And there is no toxicity problem for using this process in meat vats.”
Ellen Wakefield downright beamed:
“Does that mean that we will get to eat food like today every day? Yay!”
That in turn made Dr. Wakefield facepalm and mumble into his hand:
“Only you, Ellen, only you.”
I waited if Ellen was giving a riposte, but she remained smiling and happy, so I answered:
“Not quite. We don’t make such an effort for every meal. Especially breakfast is much more humble, though that’s changing now that we have a consistent supply of eggs. Thing is, on most days there is freshly baked bread for sandwiches and you find butter, various young kinds of cheese, and cold-cut meat in the fridge. Just be so nice and give notice if something runs low. We also usually have something quick and easy for lunch. Though you often will find a soup. Those can be set up and eaten over a week or so. Dinner is when we do something fancier.
But back to the topic, I told you about the BOU because that is what I plan to use to tackle the Folly.”
Olliver sighed and grumbled:
“And how do you expect that to help us? Come on, tell us!”
Dr. Wakefield slapped the table hard:
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Olliver? Since we got on the grav ship you are complaining and bashing about anything and everything. That’s not you. Yes, you are not the most agreeable, but not to that level. So what the fuck has come over you?”
Olliver visibly sulked but refused to answer, and so Dr. Vaughn piped in with her colleague:
“Get a grip, man. This here? This is great. An opportunity that might never come again. So why are you trying so hard to make it fail.”
By now, Olliver looked angry, when he blasted out:
“Do I really have to explain it to you? I don’t want to be here!”
Charles Vaughn shook his head in disbelief.
“Then why are you here? This is a volunteer posting. Sarah and I talked for two days before we decided to come here. And we could have said no at any time. So, if you don’t want to be here, why have you said yes?”
Olliver snarled:
“They told you it is voluntary, but I was told that I would be on that ship or out of the project. Carstairs plainly told me that it was this or unemployment.”
Aaron Wakefield growled:
“Bob Carstairs is an asshole, but he doesn’t change this project from being voluntary. Don’t be stupid.”
“You are the stupid one here. Carstairs has the ear of Jellicoe, and Jellicoe can go to Vandermeer whenever she wants. None of us here has that kind of pull.”
Sarah sighed.
“That was the old days when Knowles did his best to hamper Revitalize. Vandermeer isn’t that way.”
“Believe what you want. But don’t come crying to me.”
I shook my head.
“Do I get that right, you are essentially sulking because somebody forced you to come here? How about this, you stop being a jerk to us about it and don’t try to hinder us and I’ll talk to Vandermeer about this.”
Olliver looked at me suspiciously.
“You think you can just call Nathan Vandermeer and talk to him about things like that? You?”
I snorted.
“During lunch, my VI called him and asked him about your jacks, and he answered. Personally. So yes, I think if I contact him and talk about it, he will at least listen. I can’t promise that he will do something but at least I can talk to him."
After a few long seconds, Olliver sighed and nodded.
“Fine. I’ll do my best.”
“Ok, then that’s out of the way. And to answer your question I ask you a question of my own, tell me, what happens to make a fertilized cell start dividing? Why does C3 increase the success of fertilization by around 50%? Why are K4 hyper fertile?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know any of this, and as far as I can tell, nobody knows. So why are you harping on me about it?”
“You are right, nobody knows the answers to that. Nobody can tell when a fertilized egg becomes a zygote and starts dividing. Nobody can explain how life starts. As far as humanity knows, it is magic in motion. A wizard did it.
And as long as we don’t know what should happen, we don’t know what in that process doesn’t happen after the Folly. And that is where the BOU comes into play. It will allow us to look at the fertilization process of various mammals to determine what should happen. It will show us on a bio-molecular level what proteins are involved, and what parts of the combined cell act as a starter. And it will then show us what of it isn’t present with humans nowadays.
And when we find that part, the cornerstone of the puzzle, we might finally find a way to beat the Folly. Because then we will know what we have to change to fix the damage.”