The Patchwork Man

The Patchwork Man

Chapter One

         It was just another end of the day ritual; laugh, gripe, and rush to the Tubes after a longsuffering day. Amid the conversations punctuating the five o’clock exodus from the Harlan B. Purvis Center for Cybernetic Research, walked a nearly comatose, Dr. Aoki Taylor.

         “Oh, God, shut off my brain!”

As her coworkers scurried to the Center shuttle, Aoki opted to walk the fifteen minutes to the Tubes. After a contentious staff meeting, a consult from hell itself and an argument with the boss, she truly needed fresh air to clear her cluttered psyche. This was truly a day scripted by the old century wordsmith, Edgar Allen Poe. Aoki almost looked over her shoulder for the “nevermore” raven.

         “Onward to the freak show, I go.” She muttered as she reached the Tubes.

         Ah, yes, the Tubes! A new century marvel! No tracks; no harmful to the environment emissions and quicker than ever travel! It was humanity’s way of rushing to and fro guilt-free. A hard day can be forgotten listening to Tube chatter and watching the knotheads discuss everything from Dome news to who’s low banging who. However, Dr. Taylor wasn’t pacified by the noise; it just added to the chaos in her head.

         “Can’t this Tube come any sooner?” Aoki complained as the wait increased to ten minutes.

         Usually the tubetrain arrives every five minutes or so. Anything longer creates nothing but a headache for weary workers. Finally, the disembodied voice announced the tubetrain’s approach. As soon as it landed and opened its doors, Center workers rushed the doors like old century cattle. Aoki managed not to get trampled as she just found a seat before it became standing room only. Before takeoff, the disembodied voice of the engineer announced a change in the ordinary route.

         “Please excuse the delay. A problem has occurred and the tubetrain is being rerouted over the D.C. ruins. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

         Silence and palpable fear swept through the tubetrain. No one ever went anywhere near the old century ruins. “The Event” was aptly termed. It was not discussed, even in Old Century History instruction.

         “Isn’t there a different route they can take?”

         “I can’t bear to go near that, that place!”

         “No way am I going to be cursed by that mindsore!”

         Every expletive in the known universe was uttered as the travellers became increasingly nervous as the tubetrain neared the ruins. The Center’s location was in the D.C. Domes. The tube route always avoided the ruins. Aoki wasn’t moved. Her late grandfather was the curator of the old century section of the new Smithsonian. He often took part in the excavations in many of the ruins throughout the North American provinces. Aoki tagged along on some of his trips and was awed at what she saw and what the seekers uncovered. However, even the most seasoned seeker got chills viewing the level of destruction.

         “We are now over the ruins. Shielding will be employed until we clear the area.”

         Gasps were heard as the D.C. ruins were seen before the shields fell. Aoki did experience an odd chill viewing the ruins. She had been there many times and it fascinated her to have that happen.

         “Curious reaction, I must say.”

         Back on its assigned route, the tubetrain began stopping at its destinations and the riders disembarked with the quickness. After about twenty minutes, Aoki at last reached the Old Baltimore Tube Station. Tensions evaporated into the warm May afternoon as she exited the station and began making her runs. It was Aoki’s turn the host the bid whist game at her space and the tube incident made her late. Cordial hellos and other salutations welcomed her as she sprinted down B. Franklin Street. Aoki made quick stops at the post and Mr. Annan’s Organic Grocery before reaching the quaint dwellingspace she called home.          

         “Hi, Ms. Marjorie! How goes the day?” Aoki called out.

         Ms. Marjorie, the owner/manager of her dwellingspace was out front, watering her just-planted flowers. Having retired from the local restoration committee, Ms. Marjorie managed her menagerie of tenants in the dwellingspace her late husband willed to her.

         “Hello, sweetie! The day was well for me! Aren’t you a bit late? The game starts in about an hour.”

         “The tubetrain was diverted for some reason over the D.C. ruins. Anyway, I got some set up done before I left for work, so I’ll just finish up and be ready to go.”

         Putting down her water apparatus, Ms. Marjorie gave Aoki a motherly squeeze and sent her on her way. Aoki was alone in the world after the deaths of her grandparents. Her parents died many years before in the SoCal insurrection. Ms. Marjorie looked out for her tenant, wanting Aoki to know that she has a place in someone’s heart. Interrupting her ruminations was a strange cold wind blowing past her suddenly. She quickly prayed as most did when a premonition hit. Spiritual but a wee bit superstitious, Ms. Marjorie took no chances when ill winds appeared.          

         Meanwhile, Aoki hurredly jumped into the sonic wash and allowed the day to been cleansed off. After putting on casual gear, she finished her preparations and was almost ready for her guests when her pager chirped.

         “This is Dr. Taylor,” she answered immediately. “Is there a problem?”

         “Dr. Taylor, this is Dr. Oppenheim. We are called staff back because of…an OPS occurrence. Please return immediately.”

         Dr. Oppenheim ended the link abruptly, riling up Aoki.

         “That plebe! He is going to learn not to cut me off and soon! And right before the game? The timing is so rank!”

         Aoki disrobed and again donned her work gear and headed out. She nearly ran her landlady over on the way.

         “Where are you going, Aoki? What’s the rush?”

         “I was ordered back to the Center. OPS occurrence? No way to get out of going back. Problem a security breach, again. I have melted off Purvis’ ear about the lax security. One day, something really wild is going to happen! Mark it! Access my livingspace and make sure the game goes on, okay?  I’ll return soon!”

         “Okay, dear. I’ll keep a light on!”

         Watching Aoki’s retreating figure, Ms. Marjorie wondered what actually occurred at the Center. Aoki had never been summoned back for a security breach. Before she could go to Aoki’s, the chime sounded and she went to the entrance. After opening, there stood two men and Ms. Marjorie already knew where they were from.

         “Can I assist you gentlemen?”

         “We are opening an inquiry regarding Dr. Aoki Taylor. We are authorized to search her livingspace and interview all those who have any acquaintance with her. Let’s step inside, Mrs. Jackson.”

         Ms. Marjorie moved aside to allow the OPS entry. It is never in anyone’s best interest to say no to the OPS; the consequences were always obscene.

         While the OPS invaded the dwellingspace, Aoki was about to walk into the lion’s den.

         Aoki wasn’t happy to return to the Center or the D.C. Domes. Working at the Center was one thing; having to go to the Domes is another thing entirely. Seduced by the sleekness and the status imparted to its residents, many would sell their souls to live in the Domes. Aoki once lived there but after the deaths of her grandparents, she returned to Old Baltimore and the livingspace they willed to her. Reaching the Center, Aoki was confronted with chaos.

         Okay, has the world gone absolutely insane! What is going on here?”

         Catching the eye of an OPS agent, Aoki was immediately grabbed and lead to Dr. Purvis’ office. Shoved into a chair, the lead investigator lit into her.

         “You were told why you asked to return, weren’t you?”

         “No, I wasn’t. What’s happened?”

         “Dr. Harlan B. Purvis was murdered at approximately 4:45 pm eastern province time. His corpse was found in the center of the courtyard at approximately 5:10 by security. You were the last person to see the Doctor alive and you had quite a disagreement with the victim. You will recount the argument. You will account for all of your movements after leaving the scene. I am obliged to tell you, until you are cleared, are under suspicion of a 187. Do you understand, Dr. Taylor?’

         When she nodded, another agent arrived and began recording the conversation. Aoki sadly recalled the last conversation with her mentor and friend. At the morning staff meeting, Dr. Purvis announced the government contract awarded to the Center. And thus began the disagreement.

         “After some intense lobbying, The Purvis Center has been awarded a prestigious contract that will position us to be a leader in cybernetic research.”

         “So, what do we have to do to fulfill the government contract? What are they asking for?” asked a suspicious Aoki.

         Dr. Purvis smiled broadly. He was obviously quite pleased with himself and had a ready answer.

         “We are going to apply the use of cybernetic technology to improve reproduction.”

         Aoki was speechless. Never had she heard something so preposterous. As an orthopedic surgeon, her focus was on assisting patients in healing skeletal injuries. How can cybernetics help a woman have children?

         “Dr. Purvis, while I agree that as scientists we should focus in researching ways to improve the quality of life, but, improving reproduction? What are you thinking? That is not what we do here!”

         Pacing angrily, the Doctor wanted to literally strangle his protégé. He understood Aoki had a reason to distrust the government because of what happened to her family. However, creating life was a new frontier and he wanted to be a pioneer. No one was going to oppose his ambitions, not even his dearest friend.

         “Dr. Taylor, this is a new frontier for cybernetic research. We’ll be on the cutting edge of creating new technological advancements. This is the proverbial golden goose! Don’t launch into some old century tirade about it.!”

         “Humanity is wasting away!” Dr. Purvis shouted.”Conventional methods aren’t working and we must explore any and all options! Why not use cybernetics to enhance mankind? What other choices are there?”

         Birthrates have held steady but were too low to replace the loss of life after “The Event”. Those living in the Domes had begun experiencing severe infertility problems, hence the government’s intervention into the reproductive affairs of the privileged. Aoki wanted knock some semblance of common sense into Dr. Purvis. What was the government’s ultimate goal? Why would they be concerned with the infertility issues in the Domes?”

         “The birthrates are climbing in the old cities, Doctor. Could there be some correlation between living plainly and living in obstentatious luxury? How about we study that before sinking government money into old century science fiction?” was Aoki’s terse reply.

         “No one would waste time on that! And anyway, we are talking about preserving the best and the brightest among us. Old city dwellers aren’t on that particular level.” Dr. Oppenheim snidely answered.

         “Had it ever occurred to you that perhaps living in the Domes is the actual problem? The Nobles breathe in purified oxygen; eat the best organic foodstuffs; have domesticons to perform everyday tasks; it’s not a surprise that this could be a possible result. How come reproductive specialists haven’t gotten the opportunity to tackle the problem? Or, how about those cloud-minded Nobles come back to Earth and try being mortal for a change? Maybe they can have viable pregnancies then!”

         “And maybe we should pray to an archaic God to give His blessings, too, Dr. Taylor?”

         The argument continued for the rest of the day. Before leaving, Aoki visited Dr. Purvis’ office to smooth his ruffled feathers.

         “Look, I don’t agree with you. The government wants something else and you may have signed our death warrant. How about you tell me what they really want?”

         Dr. Purvis sighed. He knew Aoki wouldn’t stop until she got answers, so, he decided to be honest.

         “Just between us, the infertility rate in the domed cities is growing. Carrying a fetus to term isn’t occurring and no one is sure why. The best minds have been working on solutions, but, to date nothing has reversed the rate. The government knows that we’ve working on improving the domesticons and they want us to create one that can carry a child to term.”

         For a moment, silence reigned. Then laughter rang out. Aoki couldn’t believe what she heard.

         “The government wants you to create a human incubator? Really? Dr. Purvis, was the credits that good to take on a fool’s errand?”

         Suddenly, Harlan felt very old and defeated. His own protégé, laughing in his face, wounded beyond belief. He wanted to make her understand that they were on the threshold of something wondrous.

         “This isn’t some science fiction fable! Look at what we already can do, Aoki. We already possess the means of constructing a cybernetic being; why not see if we can give it the power to carry life. Why not create a new Adam and Eve?”

         Shocked and more that a little concerned, Aoki wasn’t sure how to respond. How did they go from reproductive tech to creating a cybernetic being? Mankind was creative in the way he killed, he wasn’t known for preserving life. This was sacrilege of the highest order. Then a thought more troubling entered her mind.

         “Dr. Purvis, what have you done? You sound too sure of yourself. I mean, you can’t believe your own hype unless you’ve already…no! No you haven’t! It’s not possible!”

         Harlan stood up to escort Aoki out of his office. In a moment of friendship, he gave his protégé and uncharacteristic embrace. Returning it, she had a premonition sweep through her.

“Is this goodbye, Harlan?”

“Just for now. Goodnight, Aoki. Have a good eve.”

Now she realized that it was goodbye. Aoki wept silently as she finished recounting last eve’s

conversation. Dr. Harlan Bradbury Purvis, founder and director of The Purvis Center for Cybernetic Research was really gone.

         An OPS agent came in and pulled the interrogator to the side. After a lengthy meeting, the man returned.

         “How fortuitous for you, Doctor. The events you recounted were substantiated. You are free to go. You are to report to the acting director’s office for further instructions.”

         “Acting director? Dr. Purvis just died, why do this so soon?”

         “Not my area. Good morn, Dr. Taylor.”

         Dismissed, Aoki was led to Dr. Purvis’ office. Opening the door, she saw Dr. Oppenheim sitting at the ornate desk with several military types flanking him. Angered, Aoki was on alert.

         “Don’t bother sitting down, Taylor. This won’t take long. Because of the sensitive nature of the government contracts here, I, being Dr. Purvis’ right hand, was giving the task of running the Center. You are hereby terminated from your duties here, effective immediately. You will be given a generous severance package and a sterling letter of reference from us here at the Center.”

         “Well, that didn’t take long at all! You couldn’t wait to get rid of me, eh, Oppenheim?” This had to give you a hard one, didn’t it?”

         “It did and I thoroughly enjoyed it.” One of the military men handed Aoki a large box and snatched her swipebadge. “All the aforementioned items are in that box along with your things from your office. Good morn, Dr. Taylor, and I put in a great recommendation to human resources at Baltimore General. It seems they have a need for an orthopedic surgeon. Contact them soon.”

         Grabbed by the arm, Aoki was forcibly walked to the entrance of the Center and escorted off the grounds. Dazed, there was nothing else left to do but go home.

         As Aoki headed for the Tube Station, Dr. Oppenheim began searching Dr. Purvis’s office under military supervision.

         “Where did Purvis leave his work? We’ve gone through his research device and nothing about his project was found. You had better locate that reseach, Oppenheim or you’ll join the good doctor in Hell!”

         Oppenheim now wished he was leaving. He knew his life was hanging in the balance. Either Dr. Purvis hid his research or he stored it in his demented head. In any case, he was in trouble and nothing would save him from the dire straits he was now in. If he was a believer, Oppenheim would be in prayer, asking God to save him.