Broken Pixels (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 4) (8 page)

“No, I wouldn’t say it’s something we see every day. What exactly is going on?” Mara asked.

“As far as I can tell, no one knows. There are ridiculous rumors that someone is using the Sig-net to spread a disease throughout the valley, but, of course, that’s impossible. You can’t transmit an illness electronically via a signal.”

“Sig-net? That’s the signal infrastructure you people use to communicate?” Mara asked.

Dr. Canfield nodded.

“And someone is using it to spread a disease? What kind of disease?”

“There is no disease. It is impossible to pass an illness across the net. And why would anyone create and transmit anything both digital and malicious? It’s ludicrous. It looks to me like some maladjusted teenager with not enough supervision got bored and made a mess she doesn’t know how to get out of. Unfortunately a lot of people are getting hurt, thus the extraordinary number of returnees coming to the repository.”

“They know who is causing all this?” Mara asked.

“Last I heard, the news streams weren’t reporting a name, but they had a fuzzy video capture taken from the central dispensary downtown, just before it blew up.”

“So, assuming the security people get this delinquent anarchist girl, it’s just a matter of going and getting Cam’s head, right?” Mara asked.

“Assuming we can get it in time. The cranium has been separated for at least two weeks and is deactivated except for its locator. The longest a cranium has been separated from someone’s body and successfully reintegrated was seventeen days, so it’s fair to say we are running out of time, if we haven’t already.”

“And no one can go get it?” Mara asked.

“The authorities are aware of Cam’s situation and are tracking the locator, but, as you saw on your way here, they may have their hands full for the time being. We could be forced to fabricate a new head.”

“Meaning Cam will lose a big chunk of who he is,” Mara said.

“Psychologically it’s unlikely he will fully recover from the loss, but, with support, he can have a good life.”

A muted tone sounded three times rapidly from the Plexiglas wall, and a soft female voice said, “Dr. Canfield, please report to receiving.”

She stood next to the table and said, “Please stay here until I get back.”

Mara held up a finger. “Didn’t that map indicate that Cam’s head was located downtown?”

The doctor said, “Yes, that’s the latest location we have.”

“Is it possible for you to show us the picture of this anarchist girl from the dispensary when you get back?” Mara asked.

“That’s simple. Here it is.” Dr. Canfield tilted her head toward the Plexiglas wall as she walked out.

A blurry image appeared in a window on the wall.

Sam said, “It’s Abby!”

“No, it’s the Aphotis,” Mara corrected. “It’s here, and it’s downtown with Cam’s head.”

Mara rubbed her palms into her eyes. A part of her hoped she would be able to scrub away the image of Abby’s face that persisted on Mara’s retinas. It wasn’t working. Mara was just making Abby’s face look splotchy. Blinking, Mara placed her hands on the table and looked at Ping, making a conscious effort to avoid staring at the freeze-frame video shot displayed on the wall.

“How did that creature get here? After our last encounter—when I used the Chronicle to drive it from our realm—I assumed it would end up in Sam’s old realm, since her Chronicle originated there.”

“That may be true, but, if she and the Chronicle survived the explosion and returned to Sam’s former realm, nothing prevents the Aphotis from crossing to another realm subsequently. You said it was using the abducted passengers from Flight 559 to navigate to realms that it considered safe, correct?”

Mara nodded.

“Clearly it used Cam’s head to do the same, and it ended up in this realm, albeit two weeks prior to our arrival. It would be interesting to know if that was intentional, if the Aphotis has figured out how to control the timing of its entry into a realm.”

“Why would that be so interesting?” Sam asked.

“First, it would indicate that it was possible to do, and, second, if the Aphotis purposely arrived two weeks before us, it’s possible that it ‘followed’ us to this realm to continue its battle with Mara.”

“Yeah, but those passengers were abandoned between realms. Remember the black smog that lingered inside the Chronicle’s bubble? Why abandon all those people but keep one guy’s head?” Mara asked.

“I don’t know. I suppose there is only one way to find out,” Ping said.

Mara pressed her lips together in a grim expression and said, “Retrieve the head.”

“Exactly.”

Sam straightened in his seat, a look of concern on his face. “You’re not serious. We’re not actually going in the middle of that war zone, looking for some guy’s head, just to satisfy your curiosity about why Abby decided to keep it?”

“First, that Aphotis thing is not Abby,” Mara said. “Second, it’s not just about satisfying our curiosity. We were on the path to retrieving Cam’s head the moment Dr. Canfield said it might not otherwise be returned in time—we just hadn’t discussed it yet.”

Sam started to say something, but Mara held up a hand and continued, “I’m the one who made the decision to separate Cam’s head from his body. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be in that storage room in the hospital, probably with better odds of surviving intact. I’m also responsible for what is going on with the Aphotis. I went to Prado’s realm, brought back Suter and let him conduct the ceremony that took Abby and created this monster. So, I guess what I’m saying is, I have to do something to fix all this, for Cam and Abby. But that doesn’t mean you have to. As a matter of fact, it might be a good idea if I sent the two of you back.”

Across the room a throat cleared, and the three of them looked up. Dr. Canfield stood in the doorway. “Send the two of them where?”

“I know we haven’t convinced you that we’re actually from an alternate realm, but that’s what I was referring to,” Mara said.

“So you intend to send them to this realm where people keep their flesh and bones until they die, where synthetic bodies are not needed. Is that correct?” the doctor asked.

“That was the plan,” Mara said.

Ping interjected, “Actually that was not the plan. Sam and I never agreed to leave.”

“Yeah, we’re not going anywhere. We’re going after the head and the Aphotis,” Sam said.

Mara glared at him. “You just said you didn’t want to go traipsing through a war zone looking for a head.”

Sam glared back, mocking her. “What can I say? You made a convincing argument for staying.”

Mara rolled her eyes and turned to the doctor.

“Here’s another argument that might convince you to stay. Assuming—and I’m not saying I believe a word of it—that you are from where you say, it would be highly irresponsible for you to leave here and enter a place full of adult humans with organic bodies.”

“Why would you say that?” Mara asked.

“Because, by coming here, you have been infected with the pathogen that nearly caused the extinction of the human race. If you were to return to a world of biological adults, it is likely the disease would have the same effect there.”

Mara went pale.

“How certain are you of this, doctor?” Ping asked.

“The virus is airborne and quite pervasive,” Dr. Canfield said. “Just a couple breaths and it is in your system.”

“If everyone has a synthetic body, how can a virus survive without hosts in which to live?” he asked.

“The virus is very resilient and can live outside of a biological host for extended periods. All our children carry it as well, so living hosts are available.”

“I remember Cam saying that no cure has been developed for this disease because no one saw the need for it. Is that correct?” Mara asked.

“Technically we can eliminate the virus from the body using a cocktail of drugs called Quintivir, but it does nothing to build immunity to the virus or prevent reinfection. The drug was used before the synthetic physiology program was initiated, but repeated dosages proved too toxic over an average person’s lifespan. For many years it was used in lower doses on our biological bodies stored in the receptacles, but as our stasis technology advanced, it became unnecessary.”

“There is the remote possibility that this virus does not affect people from our realms. Is there a test to see if we are infected?” Ping asked.

“We can run a scan, if that would make you more comfortable,” Dr. Canfield said.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Mara said. “What do we need to do?”

The doctor walked to the table and took a seat. To no one in particular, she said, “Tactile scan for each biological occupant at this table. Scan for Human Dissoluendo Virus.”

The table glowed and hummed. On its surface, a backlit outline of a small hand appeared in front of Mara, Sam and Ping.

“Human Dissoluendo Virus?” Mara asked.

Ping frowned. “Dissoluendo is Latin for melt, as in butter melting.”

“As in human DNA melting actually,” Dr. Canfield said.

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Sam said. He pointed to the tiny handprints and said, “If we’re supposed to put our hands in those outlines, they won’t fit.”

“Oh. The computer assumed you were children since you are biological,” Dr. Canfield said. Her gaze drifted upward, and she said, “Adjust scan area for adult anatomy. Verbalize scan results.”

The tiny handprints winked out, and larger ones formed on the tabletop.

“Okay, place your hands on the table and hold them in place for ten seconds,” the doctor said.

They put their hands within the outlines, and a light swept beneath them that reminded Mara of a photocopier. After a short wait, a soft tone filled the room, followed by a feminine voice that said, “Three biological occupants scanned. All positive for Human Dissoluendo Virus.”

“Does that mean we will melt to death?” Sam asked.

Dr. Canfield smiled. “Of course not. This is a repository. We are here to provide you with a healthy and strong body.”

Sam looked at Mara and Ping. “Why does that sound creepy to me?”

“I beg your pardon?” the doctor asked.

Mara patted Sam on the arm. “He’s concerned you were offering us synthetic bodies.” She laughed.

“Well, you can’t stay in those for much longer,” Dr. Canfield said.

Sam’s mouth opened and closed several times without any sound coming out, as he stared wide-eyed at Dr. Canfield, his face reddening. After emitting a noise that sounded like a blend of choking, throat-clearing and coughing, he said, “I will not let you turn me into a robot!”

The doctor looked appalled and replied, “I have no intention of turning you into anything, young man. We are all still human. The only difference between you and me is that I have a synthetic body that allows me to continue my life despite the virus, a benefit that you will be forced to avail yourself of, if you wish to remain alive.”

Mara glared at her brother and interjected, “He didn’t mean that crack about robots. He—all of us—were caught off guard by this virus business. It did not occur to me that we could be infected by coming here.”

“I’m still having trouble understanding how the three of you have survived so long after the onset of puberty,” the doctor said.

“I know you don’t believe us, but we’ve only been here for a few hours,” Mara said.

“That’s true,” Ping said. “That’s one factor that indicates the veracity of our claims to be from another realm. If we had been born here, we’d all have succumbed to this illness by now. Which brings up an interesting question. How long can we be exposed to this virus before we experience its effects?”

“It could be months before your health is compromised enough for you to be aware of it. Symptoms can be wide-ranging, depending on how the virus attacks your body. First-stage symptoms are related to the senses—blurred vision, ringing or buzzing in the ears, odd smells and tastes, and tingling skin. Those are indicators the virus is affecting the brain and nervous system. In the second stage, the musculature is attacked and will present with sudden contractions and spasms, affecting everything from a person’s mobility to bowel and bladder control. If the heart or diaphragm is involved, it can prove fatal. Stage three is indicated by the liquefaction of most internal organs.”

Ping took a deep breath at that and said, “Okay, assuming we have the means to transport ourselves to a place where this virus does not exist, if, prior to our departure, you were to give us a treatment of this drug cocktail, this Quintivir, we would no longer be contagious?”

“It would take about twenty-four hours after the treatment,” she said.

“Is there a virus-free place we could stay for that time period before we left?” Ping asked.

“Only the insides of the receptacles are virus-free. Theoretically I could store each of you in a receptacle for twenty-four hours after the treatment, but you would have to depart to your realm directly from there. Is that possible?”

“We could work something out,” Mara said. After a pause, she raised a finger and asked, “Exactly what is a receptacle?”

Dr. Canfield’s brows knitted together, the question striking her as odd. “A receptacle is the container in which our biological bodies are stored. They are vacuum-sealed cylindrical storage units made of transparent polytitanium. They look like giant test tubes.”

“You would store us in tubes for twenty-four hours,” Sam said.

The doctor nodded.

“I have just a couple more questions, if you don’t mind,” Ping said to the doctor. “You said it can take months for the virus to develop into the disease. Is treatment only effective prior to the onset of symptoms?”

“Treatment is only effective during the preliminary stage. Once muscle contractions begin, there’s a less-than-50-percent chance that the virus could be eliminated,” she said.

“So would it be safe to assume that if we don’t present these sensory symptoms you mentioned—the blurred vision, ringing in the ears, etcetera—then we still have time left to get the treatment before our health is compromised, correct?”