The Forever Life (The Forever Series Book 1) Read online

  The three backup pilots sat with me, fidgeting. Major Turk McCarthy, the first alternate, noted I was ready, and teased, “So, big guy, it's still not too late to pass the baton to me.”

  I smiled. “No, but thanks. I think I'll run it to the finish line myself. Plus, you could live looking like me for all of eternity?”

  Turk said, “Suit yourself. I was just worrying about you.”

  “Do tell?”

  Placing a hand on his chest, Turk said, “I do, indeed.” He leaned in confidentially. “I've had a long time to think about this immortality thing, Jon. I have come to believe it will be a curse—a damn curse.” Sorrowfully, he shook his head. “As to looking like you, why—hell—I'd suffer that gladly to help a colleague. I'm just that kind of guy.”

  “A curse, you say? That doesn't sound so good.”

  Confidently, Turk said, “They never are, big guy—never-ever.”

  “So,” I asked, “what, you'd take that bullet for me?”

  “Yes I would, because you're such a good friend. You know I love you like both my brothers combined, right?”

  I nodded. “I did not know that. Wow, I think I may start bawling like a beauty queen who just won the crown.”

  “No need, and no time. Just strip that robe off and walk out that door.”

  “Hm.” I rubbed my chin.

  “What?” Turk asked.

  “I was wondering if this isn't just a ploy to see me naked again, Turk.”

  “No way. You're not my type. But—for the record—Carl here would like another peek.” He pointed to one of the other two others, who promptly punched Turk in the arm.

  That was, of course, the precise moment Saunders entered the room. “What the hell are you four imbeciles doing?”

  We staggered to attention as one. “Nothing,” Turk said. “We were just saying our farewells to Major Ryan, sir.”

  Saunders crossed his arms. “What, by injuring my most valuable asset on the day I need him the most?”

  “No, sir. Just friendly horse-play.”

  “Well knock it off. You three,” he indicated the three backups, “get to the Control Room, now. You,” he pointed to me, “need to report to your duty station.”

  “Sir.” The alternates saluted and snapped-to.

  I lingered and sat back down on the wooden bench. “If it's all the same to you, General, I think I'll hang out here a minute longer, to gather my thoughts.”

  With uncharacteristic nervousness, Saunders muttered, “Oh, yes. Fine, Major. I'll be up top if you need me.”

  I saluted. “Thank you, sir. I'll just be a minute.”

  Finally, I was alone. Four years of constant screening, testing, and training had bombarded my mind. Endless meetings, interviews, and review sessions have overloaded my senses. Solitude was finally mine—in the Men's Locker Room next door to the big machine which was about to suck out my soul. Oh well, I had to reflect, not Lake Tahoe in early spring, but it was quiet, save for the ubiquitous electrical hum. That sound asked nothing of me, nor did it judge.

  I actually looked forward to the impending transfer attempt. If nothing happened, I'd go back to my old life and regain control. If the experiment succeeded, my existence would be radically altered and I'd move on. Even if the process nuked my brain, at least the entire farce would be over. I'd pay good money to never hear that windbag Saunders shoot his mouth off again. Sure, if everything went as planned, he'd send me tedious messages for a few years. But, soon enough, General PissedOff would go the way of all living flesh—out of my new life. Amen to that.

  A quick check of the wall clock confirmed it was time to go. I looked up and closed my eyes. “Well, Mom and Pop, maybe I'll see you in about half an hour. Who knows,” I chuckled, “maybe never.” I laughed out loud. “Maybe both, come to think of it.” With that, I stood and walked to the passageway leading to the testing arena. I pulled the steel door open and stepped into the ten-meter hallway.

  Halfway down the corridor, near the blast doors, I could swear I felt a push back. It was as though the air was conspiring to stop me. Not the time to lose it, I chastised myself. Quit imagining signs and signals. After a few increasingly difficult steps, the illusion passed. I entered the work area, but couldn't help looking back at the passageway.

  Doc zipped to my side. “Over here, Major.” He pulled me toward the empty exam chair. “Please, be seated.”

  Once in place, the doctor began affixing wires and sticky patches all over my body. Most instrumentation went on my head. We had drilled that step a hundred times. It seemed to go much quicker this time. I casually noted the covered android, wires streaming from under its shroud, seated in an identical chair three meters away.

  “When are you guys going to let me see the robot, Doc?” I batted my eyelashes, and added, “Now seems as good a time as any.”

  He shook his head. “We feel it is best if you do not see the copy. As you know, we don't want to engender some unanticipated emotional response that could interfere with the transfer process. That's the same reason we will not allow you to meet the functioning android, nor allow him to see you.” He shook his head wearily. “We're breaking completely new ground here, Major. Perhaps we're overreacting, or perhaps we're naive, but this is how it will be.”

  “At least tell me one thing, Doc.”

  “What?”

  “Is he as handsome as me?”

  That drew a rare giggle from the doctor.

  “I know, silly question, right? No way he could be.”

  It seemed as if he was going to respond with something institutional, but instead he said, “Of course, you are the more handsome of the pair, Major. Here, place this in your mouth.” He shoved a sensor down my throat and tapped my jaw shut.

  Very soon, all was ready. I was wired six-ways-to-Sunday, and so was the dummy. Ten million lights flashed chaotically from all directions. Technicians, engineers, and photographers, all in dust-free suits, scurried around like hungry mice. The doctor checked his watch and confirmed it agreed precisely with the countdown clock high above the two exam chairs. Five minutes until the facility would be locked-down and backup power took over, fifteen minutes until my destiny was revealed. I looked up to the panoramic windows of the Control Room. Saunders leaned on the sill, chewing his pipe stem like a butcher's dog his bone. I could see the alternate pilots sitting near him. Turk waved his fingers at me as a goodbye.

  The transfer floor smelled of antiseptic, and the air felt cold against my face. Sounds of anxious tension bounced from wall to wall. The pounding of my heart dueled with those of the machine that pulsed all around me. The taste of ozone and fear fouled the air. I felt tingly…then I felt nothing…

  **********

  “…nnnnn?”

  “…aaaannnnn?”

  “… jor Ryannnnn?”

  My cheek stung. Someone was shaking my shoulder and slapping my cheek.

  “Major Ryan?”

  Light rammed past my eyelids and stormed to the back of my sockets. Painful illumination exploded in both eyes.

  “Major Ryan, are you all right?”

  It was a man's voice. No…yes, a man. I struggled to make out the form. A man with a pencil-thin mustache bounced in and out of focus. De Jesus! It was Doc, calling to me. I tried to raise my head, but was immediately stopped by the restraints. I attempted to sit up, with equal futility. More restraints. I relaxed into the chair, helpless.

  “Major Ryan, can you hear me? It is Dr. De Jesus. Jon, are you alright?”

  There was something odd in his voice, in his tone. Jon? Doc never called me by my first name.

  Something had gone terribly wrong! Was I dead? No, that's silly. I could hear him and my face hurt from the pounding it had taken. I had to be alive. My head was spinning like a gyroscope, and I felt like a jet fighter in a dead-stall.

  The vision of De Jesus shot sideways out of sight. Strong arms grabbed both my shoulders and shook me like a rag doll. A man's voice yelled, but…it was different
. Louder.

  “Ryan, wake up. That's an order, son.”

  General Sandy. No, General Sanderson…Saunders. It was Saunders, trying to get me to wake up. Wake up? I was awake. My eyes were exploding, my nose was on fire, I was so…

  “Why, you see, Professor, that's all it takes. A little elbow grease and the boy's as right as rain. Aren't you, Ryan?”

  I replied, “Yes, sir, I am, sir.”

  And I was. What was all that about? I'd felt like I was being used for experimental tortures in hell, but suddenly I was perfectly fine. Better than fine, actually. I felt…really good.

  De Jesus muscled back to the center of my vision. “Major Ryan. If you understand me, close your right eye.”

  “Doc, wouldn't it be a lot easier if I just told you I can understand you?”

  “Yes, of course.” Chagrined, he looked to the general, then back at me. “Are you in any pain, Major?”

  “No, Doc, just my ears ’cause you're still shouting.” He smiled sheepishly. “Are you okay, Doc?”

  “Me? Yes, I'm…but I wasn't just…I mean to say…”

  My eyes sprang wide open. I asked, “You weren't just what, Doc?” I stared at the doctor a moment. “What, you weren't just dead? Did I die, Doc? Is that what all the fuss is about?”

  “Major, there will be plenty of time to discuss all aspects of your…experience,” said the doctor. “But, those matters are best deferred until later. For now, I need to ascertain that you are funct…er, in proper health.” He reached over and loosened the restraints on my head, then released my chest and arms. I was still held in the chair by waist and leg straps. “There. See if you can sit.”

  Fluidly, I sat up. I smiled at him. “There, see. Nothing to worry about. I'm none the worse for wear. Hey, were you able to try the transfer yet? I seem to have a gap in my memory or something.”

  Only then did I notice the other chair, the one I'd been strapped to initially, was empty. I angled my head that direction. “Why the hell'd you move me to this chair? This's where the puppet sits. Aren't we a little old for musical chairs?”

  Doc went ashen. He rested his hands on his knees and began hyperventilating. I asked if he was okay, but he didn't respond. He just kept hyperventilating, all the while he was losing more color. Finally, his trembling hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of nitroglycerine. He fumbled the cap open and slipped one under his tongue.

  I asked sharply, “Doc, you want me to get you a doctor?” I tried to stand to do just that, but was prevented from doing so by the restraints.

  Finally, he was able to pat my forearm and weakly say, “I'm fine now, Major. Not to worry. I seem to have experienced a bit of shock, that's all.”

  “So,” I asked, “can you tell me why I'm sitting where the robot was, not where I started out?”

  “Well, you see, Major…eh. Well, it's like this…in essence…” He stammered badly. That couldn't be a good sign.

  From the side, came the strong, clear voice. “Because you are the robot, Major Ryan.” It was Saunders. I turned and saw a huge smile on his face.

  I was really pissed. “General, with all due respect, this not funny. You have subjected me to every test and scenario in the book. But this one borders on the cruel. I have to protest.” This horse's ass figured he'd see how I might react when the transfer was actually attempted. He had them knocked me out and put me in the android's chair. Son of a bitch!

  “Cruel now, am I?” He scanned the room quickly, and stepped over to an open medical cart. He removed a packaged needle and syringe and tore it open. After removing the cap from the needle, he walked back to my side. “Let's see how cruel I really am, shall we?” With that, he stabbed me firmly in the back of the hand.

  Belatedly, the doctor yelped a protest. “No, wait, General. You…” He stopped when it was clear his appeal was too late.

  “Ow, you son-of-a-bitch. That hurt.”

  Saunders pointed to my hand. “Look at your stupid hand, major-robot. No blood!”

  I raised my hand to eye level. The needle was stuck in my flesh, it smarted, but he was right. There was no bleeding. I asked, “How did you pull off this parlor trick, Saunders? You an amateur magician on weekends?”

  “That will be about all the insubordination I am willing to brook, Major Ryan—or whoever you are now. I will remind you but once. You are technically still an officer in the USAF. I am your commander and you will act accordingly. Do I make myself clear, son?”

  I barely heard the general's words. I just kept staring at the painful but bloodless wound in my hand.

  Into that gap jumped the doctor. “Gentlemen, please!” the doctor said. “Let us all calm down and allow cooler heads to prevail.” He placed himself between Saunders and me. “We have just created a miracle. Let us not spoil it with harsh words or posturing. General Saunders, as scientific director, it is within my power to have you removed from this room. Please do not force me to do so. You must, I demand, stop badgering my android. And, you are absolutely forbidden to do him any further damage or I will have you arrested. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Harry?”

  I whistled in amazement. “I musta been out quite a while, Doc. When did you grow those big testicles of yours?” I thumped him soundly on the back. “I'm proud of you, Doc. Glad to call you my friend.”

  TWO

  After the general left the area, De Jesus rested his hand on mine. He had a very soulful look in his eyes, almost sad. “Major Ryan, this is not a trick or a test. Please trust me on this. We have completed the transfer process. Everything has gone as well as can be expected.”

  “Very reassuring, Doc. What, maybe you left my teen-years behind?”

  He gave me a humorless grin. “At least your strange sense of humor transferred accurately. Very shortly, I will wheel you into the main lab. There, we can do a complete scan of your circuitry and a full set of diagnostics. Then, we can begin testing just how accurate a copy we made. But for now, I wish to speak plainly and from my heart.”

  “Absolutely. Give it to me straight.”

  “Major Ryan, you are an android. You are the first of your kind, a completely new species. Válgame, Dios, you're not a new species. You are a new form of life.” He wiped his forehead. “I suppose the issue as to whether you are technically alive will be debated hotly.”

  “You and your brainiac-friends can debate all you like, Doc. But please do it later, after I'm well out in space. For now, I'll state for the record I am alive, as alive as I ever was. So, make sure everybody treats me like I am.”

  “Of course, Major. I'll treat you the same as I am already treating the…” He let that thought trail off. After a sigh, he added, “Some things are best left unsaid. For now, it is important for me to know you believe you are The Transplanted Man. You're a good officer and a good friend. It would hurt me if I failed to convey this fact.”

  Okay, I'm a robot. Buzz, buzz. Klaatu barada nikto. “No problem. I know you're telling me the truth. Is the original me okay, too?”

  He tapped his index finger against his lips to signal silence. Then, he asked, “Before we head to the lab, one question, Major, if you will indulge this old scientist.”

  “Sure. As long as it's not too personal.”

  Surprised, he squinted at me, and said, “Too pers… Ah, you're pulling my leg again, aren't you?”

  I pointed at his face. “I had you for a minute there.”

  “Major, how do you feel? I mean to say, what does it feel like?”

  What did it feel like? I wiggled my fingers and toes, and looked way up, then down. My high school English teacher was Mr. Pearl. I positively hate Brussels sprouts. My ex-wife farted almost every time we made love, one of the many reasons she became my ex. The room was cool and buzzed electronically, like before they flipped the switch. I wasn't hungry, but an In-N-Out burger sure sounded good.

  “Honestly, Doc, I feel normal. If no one told me the switch worked, I wouldn't know I wasn't the old, human me.”


  For a moment there, the doc's eyes looked, I don't know, disappointed. But maybe it was a trick of the light. Not too convincingly, he said, “That's good to hear, Major. After all, that was our goal, wasn't it?”

  “It sure was mine…and mine too.”

  He pushed my chair the thirty meters to the main testing and assembly room. Odd. In the years I trained, retrained, and re-retrained in this underground vault, I'd never seen this area. Guess there was never a need. Up until then, I wasn't a robot. In the entire lead-up to the transfer, they'd actually told me precious little about the android unit itself. I was reassured it would be lifelike and that I'd be perfectly comfortable. But, come to think of it, how would they know that? Man, was I ever trusting. You know The Big Lies? I will respect you in the morning. The check is in the mail. I'm from the government and I'm here to help you. I prayed to God the newest Big Lie wasn't, Trust me, you are going to love your android body. Oh well, a bit too late for buyer's remorse. There was a “no return” policy on this puppy.

  The doctor walked over to a workstation and returned with an oversized electric cord that had a small adapter at the end. It was like a USB plug, just slightly thicker.

  “Lift your right arm, please, Major.” Okay, odd request for a man holding a power cable. No problem. I raised my arm like I had a question. “Thank you.” He poked a finger in my armpit, which didn't tickle like it should have. The rest of my skin functioned exactly like it always had before. He finally said, “There it is.” Then he pushed the adapter into my armpit. I felt a soft click, then a brief warm feeling. “Perfect. You may lower your arm for now, if you like.”

  My first lesson in being a robot took place. It required zero effort to keep my arm aloft, but I could sense my shoulder muscles tensing as they did their work. In fact, I quickly realized it didn't matter physically either way, whether I kept it up or down. My new muscles weren't going to fatigue. How cool. Or how frightening. Actually, how both. I knew anyone who saw me would think it strange of me to hold my arm up, revealing an electric cord plugged into my axilla, so I lowered my arm.