The Second Sphere (The Three Spheres Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  The world discovered that breeding and infinite life were a dangerous cocktail. The population exploded under the centralized world government, which was required to manage the Source’s enormous infrastructure and the advertising needs of corporate entities. Although the power of transfer reproduction was eventually removed from newer models, by that time, there were seventeen billion of us.

  We settled the moon and Mars about fifty years apart, in 2200 and 2250 respectively. The Three Spheres Government (TSG) was conceived from the expansion, a gargantuan bureaucracy needed to deal with interplanetary resource management and peacekeeping.

  Yet, despite what should’ve been a natural enticement, the adventure of a lifetime, the fulfillment of science fiction prognosticators, the outer two spheres weren’t an easy sell. Go for a visit? Maybe. But to live? There were questions about just how pleasant that might be.

  A well-crafted campaign for settlement followed. TSG billed the outer two spheres as adventures. And of course, there were generous incentives for those who wanted to go. As the earth hemmed and hawed, deciding how she would deal with the human infection, the trickle became a good stream. Propagandists deemed those who went first pioneers and heroes sent to conquer and settle untamed lands. But, of course, as the infrastructure solidified and life became normalized, corporations got their fingers into lunar and Martian society, and existence became much less pleasant.

  The constant bombardment from advertisers was a pain for any transfer. But on the moon and Mars, the attack of the sales pitch was horrific. At home, on earth, even if ads ran through my head, I possessed the ability to move freely. On the moon, walls and arrows directed my movement. But worse, commercials told me what I needed and wanted out of a life that I just couldn’t let myself leave.

  Chapter 4

  The high died quickly, and for a moment, my throat constricted. I felt the world falling on top of me as the Love fled from my synthetic body. I needed real air, some space to run free. I dosed again, inhaled deeply and felt my worries slide down the base of my spine.

  ‘Get a little closer, don’t be shy. Get a little closer; just make sure that you’re dry! Mantrix Deodorant let’s you get a little closer.’

  The entrance to the Sector 35, Area 12 train station was chaotic, filled with people headed to work. I grabbed the throwaway by the arm, pulled her close to me, and held her hand tightly. Someone could be watching.

  To our right, I saw a few bot cops—rather thick, tall, pill-looking things on wheels, lazily patrolling the far end of the station. The chances that they would do anything were small. Most weren’t programmed to detect throwaways. But still, I clenched my teeth. As I stepped in front of the gate, a light flashed across the chip in my neck. The composite-metal gate opened and I pulled her after me. I turned to see if the bots followed. They didn't.

  We waited for a train going up moon. Next to us stood perfectly coiffed men and women. Some were at the Source nodes, which lined the wide columns supporting the station, trying to fit in a bit of rejuvenation before a long day of work. Others got sales pitches or something of the sort, and were too absorbed to notice the throwaway and me, and barely raised their eyes as the train whooshed into the station. We got on the last car and managed to get a seat by the door.

  Our fingers entwined and I thought it better to keep them that way. Across from us, a blonde woman wearing a tight black suit and lightning colored pumps noticed us. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the throwaway, trying to figure out if she was legit. When her eyes moved to mine, I blasted her with an icy stare. Mind your own fucking business, I thought.

  At Sector 60, Area 19, we got off. Pro Green Revolution graffiti, all rounded, mashed together, angry slogans calling for decentralization filled the walls of the hallway. Bits of non-recyclable trash peppered the ground. The sector smelled of depravity and sickness.

  To our left was a group of hard, hungry men. They wore standard issue outfits of leather and denim, their hair painted various colors of the rainbow. Their transfers were old, worn, the skin slipping along the base of the chin and under the eyes. Leaning against the outer wall of an apartment building, hands jammed in the pockets of their pants, this early in the morning, they were probably GR groupies. I didn’t have time for a full interrogation and sure as hell didn’t feel like kicking that hungry dog. They watched us move, trying to find any sign that we might have something they wanted.

  We headed to a rickety building across the sector hall from the station. There were no bot cops around or much of a sign of TSG’s presence. I pulled the throwaway through the front door and into the lobby, which smelled like burning plastic. There were large, fake, potted plants. A bot was behind the front desk. As we passed, I realized that it wasn’t on.

  When we got to the 87th floor, I led her out into the dimly lit hallway and to the right. There, I knocked on the second door. I looked around for any sign of neighborly concern. Fortunately, it was early.

  The door opened, and there before me was Cody Beans, dressed only in a pair of black boxer shorts. He had a strangely pale complexion, long, blond dreadlocks, and had, apparently, been at the Source just moments before.

  "Orion?" Cody said, his voice soft. He stood to the side and I went through the door with the throwaway still on my hand. "Didn't think you'd be here so early man," Cody mumbled as he dragged himself into the living room rubbing his eyes. The small, dirty, one room apartment was full with throwaways, from wall to wall. A sickly sweet, artificial smell filled the room, which Cody used to cover their presence, as well as the recycling, which probably hadn’t been taken out in a few weeks. To our right was a kitchenette, the counters covered in take-out containers.

  “You hear about New Mumbai?” I asked.

  “Been Sourcing man. No. What?”

  “Bomb.”

  “Yeah?” He swallowed a breath and pushed it out between his teeth.

  I nodded. “You hear anything?”

  Cody shook his head. “Nothing. You did just wake me up out of a session. But damn …”

  “What?”

  “Things are heavy.” He leaned back against the wall next to the kitchen and crossed his arms.

  “You think they weren’t before?” We stood for a moment staring at each other.

  "How was she?” Cody asked, nodding at the throwaway. “You wear her out? Or you get too much of that Love in you, just pass out?" Cody liked to mess with me, as though we were friends. But we weren’t. He gave me information, free throwaways, and a discount on Love credits; I kept his ass out of jail. I ignored his taunt and moved around the living room, eyeing the stock.

  “Just browsing,” I said.

  "What’d I tell you about this one? Whoever programmed this throwaway, he's a fucking genius. Pussy's tight, too," he said.

  "How much do I owe you for the Love credits?" I asked.

  "You paid the whole thing last night, Orion.” He smiled. “Damn, you were fucked up! Thought I might have to get you a bot escort with the way you were swaying." He chuckled. "You coming by tonight? You want Cristina again? I can hold on to her. Or you just need the credits?"

  "It’s been a while since I’ve stayed away, hasn’t it?" I asked rhetorically. The apartment started to smell dense. Or maybe I’d spent too much time there.

  Cody rummaged through a pile of clothes on the floor. When he stood, my eyes moved from his face to the black tee shirt that he’d just put on, which was stenciled with the supposed symbol of the Green Revolution, an oddly shaped earth with the word Mother above it. I decided that it was time to leave.

  “You’ll work on getting me something about New Mumbai?” I asked. “My boss will definitely want a bone.”

  “If I hear something, you’ll be the first to know,” Cody said.

  “Okay. I’ll see you.” I edged my way toward the door.

  "You know where I'll be," Cody said before I left.

  Out in the hallway, I stopped by the elevators to catch my breath. The walls closed in on
me. The drive was in my hand, then it was against my chip and a couple credits worth of Love hit me.

  Even out. Just even out.

  I caught the train back down moon feeling pretty good. When I got off, the silvery Laslow Building stood before me. The structure rose into the sky, towering over the surrounding edifices. Thousands of people crisscrossed the halls that intersected at that point, heading to work. For a moment I thought about not going inside, just blowing off the whole damned day. But responsibility gave me a shin kick.

  A couple held hands as they walked along a light-filled path. The camera swung around and there was Mickey Mouse, a big, plastic, black head and a smile. ‘Make memories the old fashioned way. The new luxury suites at the Lunar MariottDisney.’

  In the sterile lobby, I got in line to go through security. We were getting one hundred threats a week so I didn’t mind the slow movement and invasive image technology. Inch by inch, I moved closer to the scanner, watching it to see whether anyone going through ahead of me would set it off.

  Karl Lower, head of building security during morning hours, stood on the other side of the scanner and watched me go through. He nodded at me once I’d been certified.

  “You here early working on that game seven? TSBA?” he asked. Though I had no proof, I imagined that Karl had once been a man of generous proportions. But since I’d known him, he used a nice selleck.

  I grunted. There was no need to confirm or deny why I was at work.

  “I knew they shouldn’t have held the championship in New Mumbai. I told my neighbor, I said, that’s a dangerous place. See what happens when you get a lot of people there? You think you’re going to show the GR who’s boss by having the biggest sporting event in the Three Spheres at a threatened target? Course they’re going to bomb it.”

  “Yeah,” I said. Karl’s small talk was about as endearing as a cold sore.

  “Yeah, bunch of pricks, ruining my game. I was up late for that, ya know?” He paused and scratched the back of his head. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is to take an enhancement and watch the Wolves win the championship. Is that too much? Now I wait who knows how long until they can find time to reschedule it. Bunch of assholes,” Karl muttered.

  “I hear you,” I said.

  “Promise me you’ll get those pricks, Mr. Cox,” he said. He pointed at me with an accusatory finger.

  If only ‘getting those pricks’ was a matter of determination. I put my head down and trod slowly away from him without saying another word, knowing that I could never promise anything of the kind, that the Three Spheres were too complicated for one side of this seemingly never ending war to win outright. By the elevators, I waited with a small crowd to go up into the sky. Being out of advertising range was the only thing I had to be happy about.

  Thanks to the Green Revolution, my day would be miserable.

  Chapter 5

  At Floor 63, I shoved my way off the elevator and into the ostentatious reception area. On the far wall, the silver words Laslow Intelligence shimmered. Several uncomfortable white couches formed a u-shape to my left. They were empty. The place smelled like disinfectant.

  “Morning, Hildie,” I said to our receptionist bot who hovered behind a chest-high link-up station. She tilted her wide, metallic head to the side and smiled.

  “Good morning, Mr. Cox,” she said.

  I stood in front of the main entrance to our office, a non-descript black door, and thought in my code on the keypad. A beam of red light from a sensor in the door flashed over my neck and I heard a loud click.

  As I went into the office, I realized that the maze of cubicles where our analysts normally sat was empty. It was only when I looked to my right that I understood why. Just like any person, those in the intelligence field like to be in front of a screen when tragedies happen. About thirty people gathered around the far wall, watching reports from New Mumbai pour in.

  The images were strange colors and printed words. Voices filled in the content of the story. Fires burned. So-called durable plastics melted. The Three Spheres’ Joint Security Forces were lead on the investigation. They closed sectors, kept reporters out of the blast radius. Those in the impact zone were detained, held for cleaning, thoroughly interrogated.

  If you ever wanted a job screwed up, you asked the government to do it. That’s something I learned when I worked for them years ago.

  Estimates of the dead seesawed between figures. Some of those interviewed said twenty-five. Others said a thousand. No one was sure, and I knew that no one would be sure for at least another few days, if not a week. I speculated that this wasn’t any different than the normal GR bombings that we saw every few months on Mars and occasionally here on the moon. My guess was a body count somewhere in the neighborhood of 1500.

  I felt a thump on my shoulder and turned. There before me was Bryant. His lips curled into a rather unpleasant sneer; his eyes narrowed to two lines. He was a handsome transfer, with bristly dark hair and a plug for a nose. He tossed his head to the side, twirled away from me, and left. I presumed that was my signal to follow him.

  Bryant had more than 450 years of experience behind him in various military and intelligence capacities for several government entities and at Laslow. He was a guy whose sense of duty was so great, I was certain that if he ever chose not to renew his Transfer, he’d ask to have his chip interred somewhere in the Laslow Building. Bryant had been my boss for the past fifty years, since I’d been on the second sphere.

  Bryant’s office was at the head of the hallway, a prominent display of his status as premier expert on intelligence and all matters related to the Green Revolution. Despite its grand size, he’d managed to fill his office with as much junk as he could. There were bits of circuit boards and old link-ups in the corners. There was a wall that was just for the rack, which his suits and dress shirts hung on, a requirement since he spent several nights a week in the office; and a few safes full of crucial evidence from past cases that probably needed to be brought downstairs for storage.

  Bryant motioned to a seat, went around his desk, and plopped in his chair. “Nice of you to join us,” he said.

  “Bryant--”

  His shoulders hunched at his ears. “When you get privileged information at the Source, I don’t expect you to take an hour to get in here.”

  “Yes, boss.” Bryant was regularly in a foul mood. But today, it appeared that he’d discovered a new pit from which to draw ire.

  “I expect you to do what I say, when I say it.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “You find anything?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Big crowd. Hard to pinpoint.”

  He leaned back in his chair and regarded me coldly. He looked down at my right side. I stared at him for a moment, unsure of what he saw. Then, he did it again.

  “Orion,” he said. I looked down and saw that my Love drive was in my hand. I hadn’t realized.

  “Sorry,” I said. Bryant’s eyes fell to his desk.

  “I don’t need this, Orion. Not now.” This was Bryant’s version of disappointment.

  “It won’t happen again,” I said, knowing that this was a sizable fib.

  “I’m about up to my neck with all of Rosie’s shit. She’s pushing her last days. I don’t want you going down that path, too.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Get it under control.”

  I wanted to obey him. In fact, there was nothing that I wanted to do more than stop. But kicking a habit like Love was neither easy nor particularly beneficial to my short-term mental health. Not if he wanted me pulling more eighteen-hour days.

  “I wanted you in early, because I wanted to talk to you about New Mumbai before we get into the day,” Bryant said.

  “Sure.”

  “Don’t know whether you’ve put any thought into this over the past hour or so.” He raised his head and rested his eyes on the ceiling.

  “Not a single thought,” I said.

  “Tch.” His hand d
ropped, thud, on to the desk. “Does it seem a little coincidental to you, Orion?”

  I shook my head. “Coincidental?”

  “We spent six months trying to stop a bombing at the Lunar Capitol, which we thought was going to happen today.”

  “And? The GR--”

  “Doesn’t it seem strange that we spent those six months chasing intel on a whole other case and another bombing happens on the exact same day?”

  “I’m not following,” I said.

  His brow wrinkled like a raisin. “What’s wrong with you, Orion? You doing too much Love? Too many happy thoughts in your head keeping you from seeing clearly?” Bryant pushed his torso halfway across the table. “Wake up, Orion!”

  “I’m awake!”

  “No, you’re not.” He adjusted himself in his chair, pulled it forward so that he was square up against the desk in front of him. “You’re the one who brought us this intel on the Lunar Capitol, Orion. Convinced us that we needed help from the Martian office.” Bryant put up three fingers. “Third piece of bad intel you’ve brought in the last six months.”

  I felt the synthetic blood drain from my face.

  “Let’s start with a bit about this informant of yours,” he said.

  Chapter 6

  A consortium of leading peace activists and human rights organizations founded the Green Revolution soon after development of the Source. It was a somewhat anarchistic experiment in popular resistance. Pierre Gonzalez, a former priest from Quebec City and the leader of the Peace Forever organization, and Tatum O’Donnell, an ex-professional football player and gay rights activist were the faces of the organization. They took the name of the mid-twentieth century agricultural upheaval that industrialized food production to ground the movement in the difficult position of working with technology while retaining a connection to humanity. Or so they said.

  They battled non-violently, all Kumbaya and give peace a chance, against the Source requirements and the coerced migration of those without power to the outer spheres, saying that individuals should have the right to create their own emotional, information hubs in this new environment, that we only re-created the failed social structures of past societies. These were ideas that the Three Spheres government didn’t find amusing, but not terribly threatening. The GR was a lot of buzz with no sting.