Hon 101- SciFi
Soulless
Genetic
discoveries were being made at a rapid rate in the early 21st century. Unfortunately, they began to move faster than
the governing forces. A genetic
laboratory, Phasma Corporation, based in the small
town of
While
CEO Marshal Bellows, now Saint Bellows, paid the fine, he did not halt his
company’s research. Instead he began
appealing to other countries, attempting to find a safe haven for his
experimentations. All the world powers
ruled against human experimentation and Saint Bellows was forced to move his
corporation to an uninhabited island several hundred miles from the island
state of
The
experiments with human cloning resulted in the creation of biologically
functioning human bodies that were “dead.”
The heart pumped, the lungs breathed, but there was no functional life
to the body. The scientists narrowed
this down to a specific gene that they titled the ‘soul’ gene. Try as they might, this gene was so detailed
that it could not be replicated.
By
isolating the lack of it in the cloned humans, they were able to locate it in
living humans. This eventually allowed
them to transplant people into different bodies. This became a lucrative business for the
scientists, eventually tuning the island into a unique nation of its own; the
first National Corporation.
The only focus of
the entire nation was to produce prime bodies for purchase and habitation by
the monetarily elite. This single island
off the coast of
Seeing
that they were becoming dependent upon this small island, the
With
the promise of eternal life, everyone wanted to befriend the small island. The Phasmasian Unit
became the heaviest form of currency in the world, having a
In addition to this,
they had become the center for a new form of religion: the religion of
science. With the advent of soul
replacements, older individuals could buy young, healthy, and attractive clones
and be implanted into them.
What
need is there for promises a spiritual eternal life for the cost of worship
when you can have physical eternal life for the cost of a mere $4 billion every
40-60 years?
Thus
began the Religion of Phasma. The scientists were the secret to living
forever. Intelligence will always
prevail over raw strength, because physical stature can always be purchased,
knowledge must be worked for. In this
new religion, only the strong survive.
The
world became a bubbling cauldron of accelerated Darwinism, with the little
Attractive
looking individuals were picked from a young age and physically trained to
become clone donors, instantly awarding them free replacement bodies for
life. Children showing an aptitude for
learning were drilled mercilessly into being more intelligent than their neighbors,
in hopes that they could earn a salary good enough for eternal life.
Greed
had become the primary driving force in the world. Most people believe that if you want
something, then you should take it, and if you’re strong enough to obtain it,
then it was meant for you. The world was
ruled by an oligarchy of celebrities and scientists, with everyone else as
simply the peons that would do the dirty work until they died poor. Much like feudal
Above
all else, the great statute of Phasma ruled supreme,
“Those with worth may live forever.”
Eldwin Herbst knew all of this. This had become his world. He was only a baby when the scientists had
first revealed their discovery. In fact,
he was born in
Eldwin Herbst remembers well the Half-Hour
World War. He and ten
others. They were the only
casualties of that war. While there was
never a shot fired in that brief threat of nuclear holocaust, 11 Americans lost
their lives. Not by conventional means,
though. The 11 agents that were captured
on Phasma were allowed to return home, but they were
denied permission to ever purchase a body for themselves or their immediate
family. From that day on, Eldwin and his wife Alyssa were dead. That is, until he received the letter in the
plain brown wrapping. In that letter was
life.
Eldwin Herbst’s new body felt amazing. It was like driving a brand new sports car
off the lot after trading in a 20-year old station wagon. Herbst felt a small twinge of nostalgic pain
as they carted away his 86-year old home, but his new muscles and flesh quickly
overtook that feeling. He was told that
the body was an Alexius model, from the world famous 3 time gold pentathlon
winner, Alexius Seltovich. It sure felt like it.
Herbst
felt like he could conquer the world, which was good, because that was just
about the cost of this new body. He was
still not certain who had hired him, but he was fairly sure that he was meant
to never know. He even speculated that
there might be multiple countries involved in this endeavor. All he knew is that he was 86-year old man in
a brand new 20 year-old body in a hotel in
The
small grey cell he was waiting in had the feel of an interrogation room. The door opened and a small man stepped
in. He pulled out the chair on the door
side of the table and sat down, beckoning Herbst to follow suit. Herbst wondered at how many times he had been
that man. He did as was suggested.
“Eldwin T. Herbst?” the man asked. Herbst nodded. “…a very German name.” Herbst nodded again.
“And
what shall I call you?”
“Of course,” the man chuckled. “You’re former CIA. You know how this works; the less you know, the better. Just
call me…Red.”
Herbst nodded, “Let’s get down to business,
Red. What do you require from me?”
Red
chuckled again. “I was told you were an
expert. It shows.” He passed a manila folder over to
Herbst. “I am here to answer any
questions you may have.”
Herbst opened the
folder and looked carefully over each document, being certain to notice and
memorize every possible detail. When he
was finished he looked up at Red.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Travel?”
“Phasma Airlines.”
Herbst thought for a moment.
“Why me?”
For
the first time in their conversation the little man known as Red seemed unsure
of how to answer. He rubbed his fingers
along his bushy burgundy mustache.
“We
had all the equipment we needed,” he motioned to Herbst’s
body, “we just needed someone who knew how to use it,” he motioned to Herbst’s brain.
“I’m honored,” Herbst mumbled with a
smirk. The truth was,
he really was. He just wondered if 10
other ex-CIA were hearing the exact same spiel.
Herbst was sitting in his barely too tight
seat, wondering why they didn’t bother to upgrade him to first class. They bought him a new body for over four
billion dollars and they couldn’t spare an extra hundred on an upgrade for a
more comfy ride. Go figure.
He had no weapons on him, with the exception
of his legs, on which 600 grams of Semtex were
strapped underneath his trousers. Herbst
was quite familiar with Semtex, a plastic explosive
comprised primarily of Pentaerythritol Tetranitrate, one of the strongest known high explosives,
with a R.E. factor (relative effectiveness factor) of 1.66. He remembered it as the most common terrorist
weapon of the early 21st century. He was
more concerned with what was in his hands, though. A small GPS device that he had been staring
at the for the past few minutes was now within 5
digits of his required coordinates.
He tapped the young lady who was napping
next to him and asked her if he could get out.
She replied with a groggy, “yes,” and shifted only slightly. After forcefully squeezing himself out, Herbst
began to walk down the aisle of the airplane, just as the pilot began to speak,
“We’ll be beginning our final descent over the
As Herbst continued moving down the aisle,
into first class, one of the stewardesses moved towards him.
“Excuse
me sir, but you’ll have to take your seat,” she said in her candy-sick sweet
voice. Her smile wavered when Herbst
refused to stop. “Sir. The fasten seat belts light is on. You need to take a seat.”
Herbst
pushed past her, moving steadily toward the front of the plane. All cordiality was now gone from her voice,
“Sir! I need you to—”
With a brief flick
of the wrist Herbst’s palm met with the lady’s
chin. There was a sickening pop as the
upper vertebrae of her neck separated and her tendons and veins snapped. She fell like a ragdoll
to the floor. Screams and chaos followed
her death, along with instant regret by Herbst.
This would complicate things.
Making
a mental note to try and control himself more, Herbst
continued moving to the front of plane.
He reached the cockpit just as the door was opening, and the co-pilot was
stepping out to check on the commotion.
His new resolve dissipated and he flat-palmed the co-pilot in the chest,
thrusting him back into the cockpit.
Herbst quickly grabbed the drink cart and propped it against the cabin
door. Then he reached into the steward
station cabinets. He found what he was
looking for quickly, a single emergency parachute.
He
was forced to kill two more “hero’s” as he strapped the back harness on. Then he readied himself, watching the ticking
numbers on his GPS device. At the
precise moment he popped the door open and was sucked out into the roaring
night sky.
Herbst
had always enjoyed HALO jumping when he was younger (High Altitude, Low
Opening), but even his new body couldn’t remove the fear he now felt as he
plummeted through black clouds toward a certainly fast approaching unseen
island. It had been 50 years since his
last jump. Perhaps those years had made
him sensible, perhaps paranoid, but whatever it was, he certainly felt his
heart pumping abnormally fast.
His
training availed, though, and he opened the chute mere miles from the ground,
landing perfectly on his target: the grounds in front of the nuclear power
plant of Phasma.
Herbst dropped from the open ceiling panel into the empty
hallway. He checked his memory and found
a map of the facility. He mentally
plotted himself. As soon as he was
certain of his location, his feet began to move, along with his mind. Of all things, it wandered to his wife,
Alyssa, who would, at this very moment, be receiving her new body. He shook his head and tried to keep focused
on the mission.
Down
the hallway, he should be heading south.
East through the employee break room, into the
women’s restroom. He pulled up his
trousers, revealing a thick layer of Semtex. He tore off a sizeable piece and began
applying it to the far wall. According
to the building layout, this would lead straight to the reactor.
When
the plastic was set, he took a long breath.
Once he ignited the explosives, there would be no break, and no turning
back. He knew the guards would be
swarming and he would only have minutes to set the rest of the Semtex and arm the timer.
This was it.
With
a click he activated the plastic explosives, and ducked into one of the stalls
for cover. The explosion was relatively
small, but enough to free a large chunk of the wall, and certainly enough to
wake every drowsy guard that was on duty that night.
He
crawled through the gaping hole and into the core of the power plant. With a precision that could only come from 15
years of CIA demolitions training, he began arming the room. In 6 minutes, the charges were set. He was preparing the time-detonator when the
door burst open. To say the least, it
was not quite what he expected.
He
was crouched to a mirror image of himself in triplet. It took him a second to realize why the three
looked so familiar, then it clicked. They were all Alexius models. Of course Phasma
would be defended by the best. Another
second later and he was engaged.
The
three guards could have easily outpowered him, seeing
as they were exactly three times his strength, but what they had in physical
force, he made up for in combat experience ingenuity. With sharp ducking and maneuvering, he was
quickly engaged in the middle of the group, making their firearms
obsolete. In the confusion of the
moment, he soon had them fighting themselves.
If it weren’t for their guard uniforms and his all black, he might have
even been able to sneak out without them realizing who was who.
In
the initial brawl, he got a few good punches in, took a hard kick to the chest,
and feigned one of the guards to kidney shot another into incapacitation. One down, two to go.
Herbst
was just sliding beneath one of the guards’ legs when the dumb brute reacted
faster than he had expected. With a
twist of the thigh, he caught the ex-CIA in a neck-squeezing headlock. Herbst quickly flung his knee into the
guard’s back, hitting solidly with a crunch, and freeing his head just before
the pinch had cut off blood circulation to his brain. Herbst was just rolling up to finish off the
guard with the broken back when he felt a fist hit his face like an iron
bat. The world flashed white but Herbst
forced himself to maintain consciousness.
He dropped to his knees, and through blood-soaked vision saw the third
guard approach him, readying for the kill.
It
was then that Herbst felt the primer, sitting conveniently next to his left
hand. He fumbled for the override
button, but only for an instant, still too quick for the guard to react.
Herbst’s last thought as he pushed the button was of his wife, happy in
her new body; probably the last new body to ever be issued from the now extinct
government of Phasma.
The
nuclear blast shook the island to the core, wiping out every structure, and
causing a 100 foot tidal wave to hit the coast of nearby