“I wanted to plant the idea of growth into the player’s experience,” said Korliss. “I don’t know if spending my time like this with the Entertainers is the best method of helping our species… but it’s… certainly… one method.”
They watched Didi’s battle in uncomfortable silence.
Finally Korliss said, “Your child, how’s he doing?”
“Got all his arms and legs and no serious diseases,” said Sevrik. “He’ll be taking gene therapy for tanner’s hide, which would have gone undiscovered a few years ago.”
“Hm. And you, Didi?”
While Didi’s character backtracked and lured the wolf rider into a cluster of boulders that would limit his maneuverability, Didi said, “I’ve been toying with the idea of creating a new department. It would work alongside the DoS, but with greater focus and an emphasis on results. I would call it the Department of Research. I believe it would hasten our progress and introduce a little more competition and vitality into the system. I would be the de facto Head of the DoR, since I made it. I don’t think I have the political savvy to be Head of the DoS - but it would be results that count in the DoR, and that I can do.”
“And what results have you been producing lately?” said Korliss.
“I’ve been doing a lot of work studying the human and demonic genome. There are still a lot of puzzles. A lot of things we don’t understand.” He sighed, then said, “There’s a lot to do. The work continues.”
Korliss turned away. His expression hardened. “Are you moving into law enforcement?” he said to Sevrik.
Sevrik shook his head slowly. “As a Colonel with combat experience, I could do that, easily, and get a pretty cushy position. But the power-potential tapers off too quickly. I’d be working around tenured officers and defective humans all day long. I want to stay in training and work around people with potential. Even though...”
“What?”
“I don’t know,” said Sevrik. “Nevermind.”
Finally Didi trapped the wolf rider in a narrow ravine, then climbed atop a boulder and lopped off the rider’s head. The wolf frenzied and fled from the area, leaving Didi with a bag of loot to sort through. There was little fanfare in the victory, only the lonely sound of the wind across the frozen earth.
“It seems as if we are all doing well,” said Didi, turning to his friends. “We are advancing in our fields. We are ‘growing in power’, I guess. But. But.”
“But the excitement is gone,” said Sevrik.
Korliss’s head snapped in Sevrik’s direction. The Guardian returned his look. Finally Korliss turned away, his face to the window, his breathing labored.
“We did something wrong,” Korliss said quickly.
“What do you mean?” said Didi. “We’re doing everything we set out to do. Some days are just… a continuation of the day before. Sometimes the work is just that: Work. We’re getting older, Korli. Sometimes-”
“No,” said Professor Korliss, “there was a time in our lives when everything felt right, and because it was right, it was exciting. We were exploring our potential in a way that few humans ever do.”
“Aren’t we still doing that?” said Didi.
“Didi, we have to admit that we don’t yet understand the true nature of reality, the true nature of the human experience. We grasped a few of the rules, and we followed them, we stayed true to our original intent... but we did a lot of it unconsciously.”
“But we discussed everything,” said Sevrik. “I don’t see that we did anything unconsciously.”
“Then let’s discuss this now!” said Korliss. “Why are we not happy?”
Masks of surprise clung to the other two for a moment, then fell away. Didi nodded and set down his controller. Sevrik pumped his fists at his sides.
Korliss turned away and paced the room for a moment. “We never allowed a politician into our circle,” he said.
“Of course not,” said Sevrik. “They’re simpletons! They crave power for the sake of power itself. You were just talking last week about your colleague who’s gotten into trouble for his idea that a surprising number of politicians lack qualities that most would consider innately human.”
“Exactly!” said Korliss. “We’ve always respected power, and the pursuit of power, but we never sought power for the sake of power. The three of us are too intelligent and too self-aware for anything like that.”
“Then, Korliss,” said Didi, “what do you think we should be doing?”
“Look at what we’re doing now,” said Korliss. “In addition to my teaching and studying, I helped make a game with my philosophical ideals at its core. Sevrik made a child, a human in his own image. Didi, you’re about to create a new department with a new focus.” He paused, then said, “You see? We three have all made something. We’ve given vent to some creative drive within ourselves!”
“We couldn’t have made anything,” said Sevrik, “if we didn’t have power. I couldn’t afford a child, Didi wouldn’t have a chance at changing the system, and you couldn’t have gotten into bed with the Entertainers if we didn’t have power in the first place.”
“That’s true,” said Korliss. “Don’t think that I’m attacking our struggle for power. I’m just trying to get our minds around this idea of creation. I’m beginning to think that it’s just as important as our… our quest for power. In fact, it may even be the very reason for that quest.”
“The alliance,” said Didi, almost under his breath. When the others looked to him, he said, “We’ve created little things, on our own. But the very thing that’s made us happiest in life... is our alliance with one another.”
“And we’ve ignored our alliance,” said Professor Korliss. “Our alliance is stronger than the individual parts we contribute to it - but we unconsciously followed our creative principle and created little things on our own.”
Immediately the three drew up chairs close to one another. They felt the fire of the old days coming back.
“It seems so obvious,” said Didi. “We dreamed of power in our fields when we were young and unconscious, then figured out the rules consciously. We walked the paths of power as few men have. Now, we must do the same thing with the creative principle.”
“So, we create something,” said Sevrik. “All of us, as one. But that begs the question... what do we make?”
“That’s easy,” said Korliss. “What is our highest value?”
“Pro-human!” said the others.
“That settles it, then. We make a person who... I mean, we shape a human being into our ultimate ideal. In essence, we create... a hero.”
“Amazing,” said Sevrik. “I can’t imagine what this means. But then again, I couldn’t imagine where the road would lead before, when I first set out on it. Let’s do it. Whatever it means, let’s do it!”
“But, what does it mean?” said Didi.
“It means,” said Sevrik, “that we each contribute to the making of a heroic human being!”
“Yes,” said Korliss, smiling. He could almost see tomorrow stretching out before him. “Yes. That’s exactly what it means.”
“It was no easy thing,” said Sevrik. “Fighting for power, acknowledging a feeling of emptiness, then stumbling onto the idea of creation. If things had gone differently, it might never have happened. We could have failed at a thousand points along the way. The important thing, I say, is to shape a human into the kind of person who is fully fit for… fit for power and creation.”
“I still don’t see how such a thing could be done practically,” said Didi, scratching his bald head.
“We teach him, uh, first, about strength,” said Sevrik, slapping a fist into his hand. “That’s it, that’s the very thing. Does it need any elaboration? We make a human being who’s a boon to his species, who shuns any sort of parasitism and generates creative energy on his own.”
“For my part,” said Korliss, “I could shape his mind into a self-aware program that constantly analyzes the games he plays,
and make sure that his demeanor is truly noble. Our project won’t be a sneak or a weasel. He won’t know how to crawl. But, Sev, he won’t be some kind of brute, either!”
“He’s got to be able to handle bullies,” said Sevrik. “I mean, dealing with Havenders and inspiring them is all well and good, but it’d be nice if our ideal human could actually go into the wasteland and help others by… you know, stomping the hell out of bullies and parasites.”
“We can figure out the details later,” said Korliss.
“For my part,” said Didi, “I could help alter his genetic coding.”
The others leaned back, jaws slack. “What do you mean?” said Korliss.
“Think about those stories you study and teach,” said Didi. “Think about that hero archetype that you love. The hero is always very strong, and can endure more than any normal human ever could. Would our ideal human not have to be… super-human?”
“I never thought of that,” said Korliss. “I mean, solid ideals can give a person an inner strength that can move mountains, really...”
“But what good are ideals,” said Didi, “when the body isn’t strong enough to be anything more than food for the flesh demons?”
“The demon,” said Sevrik. “Do you think... I mean, could we actually enhance a human so that he could take the fight to the demon?”
“It almost seems blasphemous,” said Korliss. “We’ve been living in the shadow of the demon for so long that you have to look at recorded history in the form of mythology to find any accounts of pre-demonic human civilization.”
“Bit this is all speculation,” said Didi. “We can’t really change a human being’s genetic code.”
“Oh.”
“That is... not yet.”
“Oh!”
Didi rose suddenly. “Sevrik!” he said. “Figure out the way your ideal human would move. Codify the limits of the human body which can no longer be tolerated. Korliss, figure out the way your ideal human would think. Codify his ideals. As for me, I’m going back to the labs. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
That night Korliss and Sevrik talked long into the night. They ordered wine. When Didi walked back to the apartment early the next morning, bleary-eyed and happily exhausted, he saw the two arguing loudly on the balcony. Complaints had been made and the Guardians had been called, but no one had enough authority to silence a Colonel of the Guardians and his drunk philosopher friend.
* * *
Thirty to Twenty-Eight Years Ago
They did not discuss the moral implications of genetic manipulation. How could they? Once they overcame the initial embarrassment of seriously discussing an idea fit for pulp periodicals, they could not turn their backs on the excitement that the idea produced. They were ambitious men coming close to the apex of their careers; what more was left to them, except to repeat what they had already done? For them, power was a means, not an end. To gain power and then enjoy the use of power was not an option for them.
The plan to create a hero gave purpose to their lives and their work. The Project consumed all of their spare time. On more than one occasion Colonel Sevrik Clash emptied his office of important personnel to take a call from a University professor who had absolutely no importance in the eyes of the Guardians. Strangely enough, their new obsession did not negatively affect any of their careers. Far from it. All three were extremely competent men who knew that details fell into place when the mind was focused on the future. Time and again, smaller men with less vision who focused on their careers and hammered away at minor details often tried to sway others against the three men; time and again the conspirators ended up developing reputations as jealous, petty ladder-climbers unable to compete through achievement. Speaking out against a certain Guardian colonel, the Head of the DoS/DoR, or the University professor soon proved to be an unhealthy career move.
One night, when Didi seemed flustered and distant due to his work with the flesh demon genome, Korliss asked to see the thing itself. Sevrik insisted on joining. Instead of explaining to his friends that they could not possibly understand the code just by looking at it, he immediately called for a car to take them to his underground office at the Department of Research. They sat in the darkness and stared at a large monitor which displayed bars of white, gray, dark gray, and black, all in sequence. Didi rifled through the endless string, sifted through electronic annotations, and forgot his companions. It was true that Korliss and Sevrik could not understand anything about the code, but still, they stood in awe to see the thing itself: The undecipherable story written by the mad god that created their world and designated humans as slaves, playthings, and food.
Professor Korliss watched his friend Didi gazing up at the monitor. He looked as if a great weight laid on him, and Korliss knew that Didi had already learned things about the flesh demons by studying their genome – and was keeping the information to himself.
He doesn’t want us to give in to despair, thought Korliss. He wants our minds active, unshackled!
“Didi,” said Korliss, “have you studied the Ancient idea of evolution?”
“Oh, yes,” Didi muttered. “I’ve studied every facet of the Ancients to which we have access. It’s still discussed in the DoS.”
“I don’t know about that one,” said Sevrik.
“Back when the Ancients ruled the earth,” said Didi, “their church and their scientific establishment were locked in ideological conflict with one another. Their church fought for a literal interpretation of their doctrine on the creation of the world. They fought and killed and tortured others to secure their power base and promulgate their official story that the world was created within a few days by their pantheon of gods. One theory that the scientists tried to popularize was their theory of evolution: The idea that life changed over time based on the survivability of random mutations in genetic code.”
“Which story won out?” said Sevrik.
“Neither. The church story was a direct insult to a species that enjoys the search for answers, and the theory of evolution became incredibly unpopular once it became obvious that mankind was no longer Mother Nature’s favored child. There had always been problems with it, anyway. It ignored the fact that death as a feedback mechanism cannot account for a conscious mind when an unconscious mind is far more fit when it comes to survival and reproduction. It ignored countless gaps in the fossil record. It ignored the “mutation as cancer” argument. It ignored the utterly mind-boggling complexity of the first step of life creating itself by relying on a miracle of its own. Neither idea can help us now. If we ask, where does rain come from?, then the Ancient scientists would answer that it comes from condensed moisture. Where do clouds of condensed moisture come from? From water on the earth that has evaporated. Where does the water on the earth come from? From rain. Each answer is completely correct; each answer is utterly blind to the mystery of the cycle itself. Not that we can return to a state of childhood and believe in creator gods. Their answer to the question would be like saying, ‘Rain comes from the concept of weather.’ You see?”
Korliss and Sevrik glanced at one another. “But we must find the answer,” Didi continued. “We must go further than anyone else has ever gone before, or we will face extinction.”
“Or we go just far enough,” said Sevrik, “to create someone who can answer that question.”
“One who is the answer,” added Korliss.
Didi turned to the two, then said, “Sevrik. Let’s go back to the valley. I need more answers. If the story of humankind is to continue beyond the demon’s, then I must devise a way to alter our story. I must rewrite our genetic code. It is the only path open to us.”
* * *
Twenty-Five Years Ago: The Makers of Mothers
In the dead of winter, Korliss and Sevrik watched Didi’s approach. They stood on an empty balcony overlooking a vacant shopping center. Cold wind whipped through a world of gray and black.
“We’ve come to a problem,” said Didi. “When we went b
ack to the valley, I found that I couldn’t rewrite the genes of a mature, complex being. There are simply too many cells to change, and no way to change even a fraction of them fast enough. The changed genes become “damaged” cells in relation to the rest of the body. They become a cancer, and the body rebels against itself. I also found... that I can’t create a new being from the ground up. To write code from scratch is too difficult. To create a medium that the code can grow within is nearly impossible, as well. If I move the work of the DoR in that direction, questions too hard to answer are going to be asked.”
“There’s something else that I’ve been thinking of,” said Sevrik, “and I think this applies to our work. Within the Guardians, I set a precedent for men going up in ranks at a young age. This worked for me; I was ready for the responsibility. However, many boys of late have put the Guardians in a rather awkward position. There have been scandals, abuses of power. Too much power has been given to those not ready for the responsibility required, and we’ve had to let several young men take a fall in order to save the institution.”
“What are you getting at?” said Didi.
“Just this: What if we create a superbeing that has no idea of his own responsibility toward others? What if he wields his power for petty reasons? What if he abuses the species that made him? What if... what if we create a monster worse than the demon?”
“I may have an answer for both problems,” said Korliss. “Didi, is there any way to control the development of an animal’s body by way of its genetic code?”
“Of course,” said Didi. “In a way, that’s all the coding is: Instructions that say which proteins are released at what time. There is no “muscle” or “speed” gene that is set to a certain level. There are only a series of proteins produced at certain times and under certain conditions. Some of these induce development in certain areas... areas like strength, speed, and such.”
“That’s perfect,” said Korliss. “That means we set up our Project so that it matures slowly. It starts out weak, as weak as a normal human. Only over time, and only through the rigor of experience, will it grow and mature into a powerful being. This way, Project may remember what it is to be weak. It will learn to sympathize with its frail brothers and sisters, and may be more likely to protect rather than abuse them. To abuse us, I mean.”