Special. Like. Enhancement.
The words expanded, filling all his senses. Pol pushed it away, revolted, then he slowly drew it back and faced it. Unlikely as it was, it was the only answer to his problem. The Enhanced got good apartments, privileges, status; everything she wanted.
Arguing against his fear he told himself, “You’d work less hours, no more shifts and rotas. You’d live easy, if they took you. And you’d still be you. You’ve never been a snob, or bad to people, and Enhancement couldn’t force a person to be antisocial. Hell, your neighbours always have been. You just hear about the worst, that’s all, cos face it you don’t travel in their circles. Exec down to Tasker, people are still people.”
In the coming weeks he reached some tentative conclusions. At his level most of what was ‘known’ about Enhancement was mere rumour, not to be relied on. But there was a slogan. “Anyone can ask” the Company advised repeatedly on all the public walkways—but they didn’t even air recruitment programmes in the Tasker levels. The only thing he knew for sure was folk like him were first in line to be ‘dispensed with’ as the company described it.
A friend of his had been dispensed with. Pol still saw him sometimes. He didn’t want to end up on subsistence, cleaning washrooms, growing dull and vacant. Yet one error by some tired tech was all it took. The risk was always there and he was only ‘viable’ as long as he was tagged as healthy.
Backward and forward; good and bad; he’d settled nothing, scared of losing her but still unable to persuade himself to a decision. Till the line inspection.
No one knew that it was coming; the foremen hadn’t pushed them to work faster, or look more efficient. No one knew except maybe Execs up in their towers. But the shielded window up above them lifted slowly, with a muted whisper almost hidden by the hum of autos and the rattle of the loadlines. It was mid-shift, everyone was busy, but there was a moment’s silence he could almost taste between the rows of macro-units. Then each man and woman bent assiduously, faking blindness.
Enhanced. Not one but two. They stayed some time. Pol saw them up there looking, asking questions. When they finally began to turn away the people round him breathed much freer. Only Pol stood rigid.
He’d forgotten to keep his head down, half the line away from where they’d loomed, his wits gone begging, staring upward. Even at that distance one of them had noticed it. A glossy head swung back to face him, mirrored visor baleful. Then the man raised one gloved hand, and slowly raised his visor, and as if compelled Pol pulled away his shielded helmet. Cool, black eyes met Pol’s wide blue ones. Time, existence, stumbled. Then recovered.
Nothing actually happened. The Enhanced replaced his visor, backing from the window. Once they left there was a buzz of talk, but Pol stood silent. When a neighbour spoke to him he jerked, looked blankly at the other man then stepped away and left his station, stripping off his dense protective suiting. “Feeling sick,” he told the foreman. It was half true.
After a sleepless night he dressed with care in the best of his Tasker issue then, six hours before his shift was due to start, he rode the ramps and walkways to the Company’s headquarters. Two long hours of unfamiliar travel, questions, disapproving glances, while the spring inside him coiled tighter. There, a gate guard raised his eyebrows. Entering Execs looked curiously sideways and he felt too big, too clumsy. Still, tight-lipped, he moved to enter.
“You got a pass?” The guard looked unbelieving.
“I heard anyone could ask, about Enhancement.”
“Yeah?” The brows rose higher. “Well, that’s what they tell me. This’ll lead the way. But don’t stray, boy, or you’ll be arrested.” The guard stood back and watched him fumble with the unfamiliar handset. When he finally stepped through an Exec with a senior rating patch called, “Morning, Joff,” in passing then, as loudly, “What’s he doing here?” The door guard muttered something. “What, a Tasker?” Stifled laughter, light and careless. “No chance.”
Pol flushed red at the appalling breach of manners but he didn’t dare protest, his feelings weren’t important here. He went the way this finder took him, yellow if he got it right and red if he went wrong. Commanded by a colour.
ENHANCEMENT
The word was etched across the arch, he’d almost walked right under it, his eyes down on the finder. Now he looked around he faltered. Everything in here was hushed; discreetly lit and coolly spotless, a melange of pale textures. This entrance could have held a hundred folk like him, the glassy floor a lake to drown them. There was no guard this time, no barrier to stop him but it took him several deep breaths to find his courage, scared each breath might smear a shining surface. When he walked, his feet sent muffled ripples of sound around and outward. Ghosts of echoes eavesdropped when he faced the callscreen and his throat constricted.
“Welcome. Please state the reason for your visit.”
He’d almost blurted Vita, they’d have thought him crazy. “Er, I came to ask about Enhancement?”
“Are you considering application?”
“Well, I might be.” He should still be cautious.
“Please follow the amber line to an interview unit.” A thin stripe, glowing orange, surfaced in the floor behind him. No, it definitely hadn’t been there when he’d walked across it. Squaring line-built shoulders he marched down it, sinking deeper.
Inside the small white cubicle another disembodied voice took over. “Welcome. Please sit down and face the console.” Pol settled gingerly, eyes on the screen before him which became a live mosaic, more subtle colours, somehow reassuring. Or maybe, now he’d got this far the worst was over and his nerves had settled?
“Please sit back. The couch will adjust to your build and posture.” Consciously relaxing his bunched muscles, Pol followed the direction, trying to feel calmer. He had made the first decision. Sink or swim, he had gone this far.
“Thank you. The couch is programmed to handle all readings. If at any time these indicate you are unable or unwilling to continue this unit will terminate proceedings. This is a safety feature for your protection. Are you ready to commence?”
“Yes!” He’d gripped the arms then let go quickly, fearing it would tell against him, and he should have spoken softer. But the light dimmed and the cubicle had somehow managed to become a distant, insubstantial haze around him. Nothing but this couch felt solid. The voice sounded female. Dammit, don’t get sidetracked.
“Recording now. It will help this unit if you can relax more. Interview commencing.” Even before ‘she’ finished he felt a hundred ghostly touches. From the padded headrest tendrils wrapped across his neck and forehead, clinging on like cobwebs. Tiny silver filaments extended round his wrists and then there was a sudden, stabbing pain between his shoulder blades, though it was gone in seconds.
“Please do not be alarmed, small samples of blood and bone marrow have been taken. At the same time this unit has introduced a minute dose of an enhancing agent into your bloodstream. This may facilitate your own performance and at the same time measure your body’s ability to assimilate more treatments.”
Pol stared at the flowing shapes that shifted as the voice. He didn’t feel any different. Then he did. The outer layer of skin that held him suddenly felt dry and crusted, like the planet’s storm-blown surface. His perception tilted. Tremors, earthquakes, spread across his body. Super nova flared inside him, ice caps melted and a tidal wave of violent reaction drowned him.
The unit stayed silent until his breathing steadied then said cheerfully, “As required by law, all relevant information has or will be offered. Your initial reaction is favourable and does not bar you from proceeding. Do you wish to continue?”
Pol’s eyes felt wide, the air he breathed felt thinner. But he nodded.
“This unit has registered an affirmative gesture. Before your application begins you must also affirm your willingness to comply with directives on secured information.”
“What?”
“This unit is programmed to supply data on the Enhancement process, its history, development and current status; also to enumerate the benefits, or otherwise, of following said treatments. In order to safeguard this confidential data.” Here the voice slowed down a fraction. “This unit must be empowered, should your application ultimately fail, for whatever reason, to delete that portion of your memory retaining confidential data.”
Pol leaned forward. “Can you do that?”
“I am so programmed.”
“Is that legal?”
“Providing you affirm willingness.” Pause. “Failure to do so will terminate this interview.”
Another silence. Pol watched the screen, but nothing happened. No, of course not. He drew a breath, sat back again and spoke. “OK, I affirm my willingness to comply with your conditions. Will that do it?”
“Thank you. We may proceed.”
