Prologue 7, Gene Clinic
Alexander takes a relieved step into the gene clinic, certain that whatever problem had caused that advert to assault him could be solved by the cybernetics department within. He pauses as a thought occurs to him; this visit would be the last time in many years that he would be welcomed into a high-end gene clinic like this.
It wouldn’t hurt to look around the clinic one last time so that he could truly commit it to memory, right?
Alexander smirks in acknowledgement of his flawless logic and begins to sweep his awed eyes across the clinic's physical lobby; this clinic is the only place he knows of that is as brightly lit as this.
The room is built using clean white panels; even his virtual overlay cannot detect the seams between them. The floor is also a baffling white material, and yet, much like the walls, it is so clean that it shines. Momentarily curious, Alexander sends a query to his virtual overlay, but instead of receiving a proper response, he is redirected to the clinic's network site.
In his mind's eye, he reads the site's description of the building materials for the clinic and becomes momentarily confused when he reads that the walls and floor of the building are made from a classified material that is claimed to be completely dirt-resistant.
Alexander mentally frowns at the virtual display.
‘Classified? For a semi-public building?’
Instantly, he chooses to dig further into the classification and gets the answer that he had half expected. The parent company of the gene clinic had patented the material and refused to elaborate further, apart from claiming that it was perfect for healthcare and public spaces.
With an annoyed sigh and shake of his head, Alexander dismisses the overlay and continues his inspection of the far too wealthy clinic.
Behind him he knows that there are opaque windows nearly identical to his apartment's looking out to the mega-tower beyond. Alexander knows that they are almost permanently set to be one-way, allowing the people within the clinic to look out but nobody outside to look in.
In front of him, near the centre of the lobby, sits a beautiful, uniformed woman at the wide reception desk, looking at her. Alexander is forced to acknowledge that she is so stunningly perfect that she must be a part-time advertisement for the clinic's capabilities in bio-sculpting. She is looking at Alexander with a knowing, expectant smile.
Alexander returns her smile, privately commenting that she would be giving him an entirely different look if his public overlay did not clearly indicate that he had an appointment.
Physically, Alexander begins to move towards the desk, but mentally he continues what will likely be his final inspection of this clinic; this time he focuses on the clinic's virtual presence.
While in the physical world the clinic lobby is a serene and quiet place, a place that looks like it was built for health and introspection, the virtual component of the lobby could not be more different.
The virtual lobby is filled; avatars of people are constantly leaving and entering. They hover near the virtual lights and ads that float freely on the walls and in designated spots of the lobby, clearly observing the clinic's services. A quick glance at them shows a jaw-dropping price for even the cheaper services on display, but Alexander's curiosity gets the better of him again.
On one side of the virtual lobby, Alexander sees the advertisements for bio-sculpting, the services that would mould a customer's body like clay into the form of their liking.
The services that permanently change a customer's hair colour or physical gender start at a relatively high price. Alexander himself had used these services for free to remove and alter some of the features that he had been less than fond of.
But those changes are entirely cosmetic, not something that impacts a person's genetics in the slightest. The truly expensive bio-sculpting services are the ones that are only available at a high-end gene clinic like this one.
Alexander starts to mentally stare at one such advert: the ability to have your genes changed so that even your descendants will look how you want them to.
The adverts fly across his vision; one of the more controversial services passes through his mind's eye: the ability to only have children of your chosen gender for up to two generations.
Alexander grimaced remembering the news when that particular treatment had been released. People had screamed all over the net that it would inevitably cause the extinction of the species. The clinics had to limit the number of guaranteed generations due to the massive fuss they had made, as public outcry and fears about the potential consequences of the treatment led to stricter regulations on inheritable genetic modifications.
However, the most famous, aggravating, and commonly used high-end gene alterations involve adding exotic features to enhance your dominant genetics. Alexander twitches as he looks at the advert, asking whether he wants his descendants to be guaranteed to look exactly like a fictional person of his choice.
He had seen a worrying number of people who had obviously chosen this treatment; it was both wonderful and annoying to see anime characters now made permanently real.
"Phew", Alexander sighed, before turning his attention to the other side of the virtual lobby, where the augment adverts were located.
These adverts Alexander knows tend to come in sets, and Alexander had been lucky enough to get one of the most expensive ones. Alexander takes another moment to appreciate what he had been offered; Harvard had really paid for something that would usually be restricted for already successful businesspeople.
He glanced over the adverts, noting their targeted demographics. The cheapest augments are more about cleaning up junk and redundant data, quality-of-life improvements that are mostly noticeable as a person ages.
But the more expensive ones are honestly more outrageous, improving a person's strength, speed and agility, even their intellect. For anything that can be improved through genetics, there is a package available at this clinic. Alexander glances at one in particular that he had already gained, a life-extension treatment that slowed his ageing by half.
And of course, while most treatments are restricted to things that cannot be passed on to your children, the most expensive treatments guarantee that a customer's children will be born as beyond-baseline humans.
Online, genetic treatments that provide truly quantifiable advantages to the next generation have become infamous. There are claims, not just from bio-conservatives, that these treatments could create a genetic elite; some even warn that it might eventually lead to a genetic caste system, making the gap between the rich and poor even larger.
Alexander mentally grimaced as he considered that possibility. He thought that it wasn’t completely impossible, although his experience implied it wouldn’t be that clear-cut. Alexander was, after all, actively and successfully competing with people like Mike and Emily, who had already benefitted from such high-level genetic augments.
Alexander shakes his head as he dismisses his thoughts, having now arrived at the reception desk.
“Welcome back, sir; you have arrived just in time for your appointment," says the woman with a practiced smile. Katherine, his virtual overlay, tells him.
“Hello. Yes, I’m here for my final augment treatment.” Alexander told her, causing her to nod.
“Yes, the doctor will call you into room 7 in a few minutes. Is there anything else?” Katherine asks.
“I would like the doctor to look at my cyberware; I had some problems on the way here.” Alexander replied…?
Alexander briefly felt surprised as his attempt to speak failed. Unknown to Alexander, his eyes momentarily flash red, a spike of already forgotten pain lancing through him. Alexander is certain there was something he needed to say. Why can’t he remember?
“No, that is all. Thank you.” Alexander replied with certainty.
Katherine looked at him in confusion, having apparently noticed something; for a moment a question clearly began to form on her lips. But at Alexander's look of certainty, she hesitates and ultimately decides to move on.
Katherine nods in reluctant acceptance. “Then please wait a moment.” Katherine says uncertainly.
Time passes quickly; indeed, it is less than a minute before Alexander hears a partially familiar voice.
“Alexander! Come to room seven, please.” Doctor Takashi shouts in greeting, his virtual invitation pinging him in tune with his physical voice.
Alexander turns and sees Doctor Takashi, a middle-aged Japanese man.
“Doctor.” Alexander nods in greeting as he enters room seven.
The room is partially familiar to him, as he had been here before, but he cannot help but look again.
There are cabinets all around the room, and in its centre is an automated medical chair. Alexander knows that this chair can lock a patient into place so that they won’t hurt themselves as they are treated, with the soft but firm straps that would hold a patient's head and limbs, allowing no movement at all obvious to his experienced eye.
Doctor Takashi looks at him, amused at his apparent observation. “Taking in the sights, are we?” he says teasingly.
"Sorry, Doctor, I’m not likely to see like this again for a few years.” Alexander explains, embarrassed.
“It’s fine; many scholarship students do the same.” The doctor says in a kind but dismissive tone before continuing with an order, “Now, lie down, and we can get this finished.”
Alexander moves to the medical bed and lays down, mentally preparing himself for the augmentation.
The chair instantly conforms to his body as it physically locks him in place. He looks up at the lights with mild regret at what he knows is coming next.
The room lights up physically and virtually as the built-in sensors focus on Alexander, a display of his body's status floating off to the side.
“It looks like your previous treatments have properly settled.” The doctor comments as he looks at the readings, “In fact, you're in the top percentile for reception. I said it before, didn’t I? You have great genetics." he compliments, his tone professional.
“You did.” Alexander acknowledges, “You also said that I wouldn’t get much benefit from any of the higher-grade treatments.”
“And you wouldn’t.” Takashi chides, “I know the news has said differently, talking of a genetic elite and superhumans, but those treatments are for some very specific edge cases.” He goes on to explain, "For the most part, they are encouraging certain personality traits and modes of thought that I would have preferred to be banned." Takashi shakes his head in dismay. “It’s part of my contract that I don’t have to administer those treatments.”
“Basically, the result of those treatments creates an individual who is just shy of being a functional sociopath.” He continues to speak with the disdain in his voice, clear. “Perfect for a CEO in waiting, wouldn’t you say?” he asks rhetorically.
“I suppose so.” Alexander replies doubtfully, uncertain if the super-rich were really aiming for genetic sociopathy. To Alexander, that sounded like a terrible idea, and he hoped someone must have warned them before they created a treatment plan to ensure an outcome like that.
Doctor Takashi laughs at his doubt before saying, “Enough of that, let’s get to the procedure.”
He reaches to the side for a syringe filled with an unidentifiable goop. Alexander glares at it knowingly.
“Now, this procedure is going to hurt a lot.” The Doctor says sardonically.
Alexander throws him a look. “Shouldn’t you say, ‘Just a bit’ there?” he asks.
“Well, I prefer not to knowingly lie.” The doctor replies jokingly, “Brace yourself; you know this is going to hurt," he continues seriously.
Alexander tries to nod his head, but the restraints stop him, and so he instead braces.
The doctor inserts the syringe into Alexander's neck and pushes the medical nanomachines into Alexander's bloodstream.
Alexander's body locks as liquid pain flows through him in waves. He clenches his jaw painfully, gritting his teeth, completely determined not to scream like last time.
Alexander opens his mouth and exhales before he throws his mind into the virtual world, causing him to physically blackout.
Time passes, and Alexander comes too.
Immediately he notices that he is no longer restrained by the medical chair. He looks at the doctor to ask how things have gone, but before he could open his mouth, the doctor spoke first.
“You really could do with a bit less stubbornness, you know? The treatment went well, superbly even.” The doctor comments wryly. “But I’ve never had a patient so determined to make me go grey.”
Alexander takes some steadying breaths before answering, “The treatments wouldn’t be as effective if you drugged me or I were unconscious. Right?”
“That might be true, but it’s not something that we advertise for good reason. Seeing what happens does not make it better on my end.” Said the doctor, “Is a fraction of a percentile really worth experiencing the pain of having your genetics rewritten? Most people would say no after the first go around.”
“I’m not most people.” Alexander says with finality, standing as he did so.
Alexander needed to succeed; he absolutely had to.
“Obviously not.” Takashi agreed, shaking his head. “It has been an experience knowing you, Alexander. I wish you luck with your career," he says, smiling.
“Thank you, Doctor.” Alexander says, before turning to leave.
“I got a message from Katherine; she said you looked like you wanted to request something else but didn’t?” The doctor called just before Alexander left.
Alexander turned and looked at Takashi, frowning.
That’s right… his cyberware problem. Alexander opened his mouth and said with relief, “Yes! Please, there is something wrong with my cyberware.” Once again, Alexander felt pain lance through him, his eyes flashing red. He had to ask for help. Why can’t he remember?!
“Ah no. It was nothing." Alexander said confidently.
Doctor Takashi looked at Alexander and frowned. “Something private maybe? Fine, I won’t pry.”
“Thank you and goodbye." Said Alexander with a strange finality before he turned to leave again.
The doctors’ concerned eyes followed Alexander as he left the room, wondering what Alexander had meant with a tone like that.