Finally, there was the fact gleaned from the Cloud that most of those in the party were not strong swimmers. They will stay together. They did not swim far.
She stood still and concentrated on the scent threads that came to her. There were thousands of them-threads from the water itself, threads from the algae scum on its surface, threads from the thick aquatic plants that grew up from the heavy mud below. But there was no trace of her prey, not yet. Although irritating because it distracted from her work, she would now have to send word to the Divine Authority of this recent development.
Katria swore out loud, catching the attention of the waiter product that was busily wiping down a nearby table. The waiter bowed and asked if he could be of further service. She waved him off without looking at him.
So the little shitters ran straight to the water, Rhemus blinked in. Well, two points to them for doing the obvious.
Katria chuckled despite herself. Good thing I contracted the seeker for the job rather than by the hour, she returned.
Yeah, just think, if it doesn’t catch them, we don’t pay a point. He paused. You made the right call. Don’t sweat it. Once a seeker gets imprinted, they don’t give up. It’s just a matter of time.
What Rhemus said was more or less true; however, there was an eventual timeout clause in the contract. House Xando knew better than to sign a contract that took one of their precious seekers indefinitely out of operation.
Forget it, Rhemus said. Kick back and let it do its job. What’s that you’re eating?
I’m not sure, Katria replied. I never like to know. I just want it to taste good.
And here I thought you didn’t like surprises, Rhemus teased.
Only pleasant ones, Katria answered with a grin.
Earlier, Katria did have a pleasant surprise, a gift from the OverSoul. Having offered the necessary prayers and point sacrifice, the OverSoul dispensed the divine inspiration she needed through her familiar. It was so simple. Like a judo master, she would use the demons’ own weight against them, and they were bound to fall hard. No matter about the stymied seeker. Perhaps it was a blessing, for now she would have the opportunity to see this divinely inspired plan come to fruition.
CHAPTER 22
Human genetic engineering started in the United States. This was a surprise at the time to those who speculate on such things. The expectation was that China would fire the first shot. China, a newly minted superpower, had both the means and a seemingly unhindered view on ethically problematic issues. Nevertheless, many historians believe that the catalyst for America’s plunge into “accelerated human evolution” was in response to Asia’s economic rise to power. The West did not want to give up their hegemony. As the American middle and upper classes’ grip over exclusive and high-paying employment continued to erode in the global economy, so did their qualms about tampering with nature. Parents had always wanted to give their children an edge, but then on the competitive international stage, “want” became “need.”
But let’s not be too harsh on these U.S. parents and their suppliers. Pandora’s box was destined to open eventually, and when it did, it did not even take a generation before nearly everyone in the world was saving their dollars, their yen, or their euros to level the playing field for their own child.
Improving the long-term health and attractiveness of their children was easy enough, but the real demand was for boosting intelligence. Historically, parents had always secretly hoped for a “gifted” child, and now this gift could be purchased.
Thanks to such market forces, it was only a few generations before much of the world was genetically homogenized. Now was the opportune time for a virus to strike. When the TerriLove virus exploited a weakness in our shared proteomic signature (one related to the nervous system, incidentally), it raged with abandon. We were like identical shafts of wheat, standing straight and immobile, awaiting the scythe.
Is it any wonder the OverSoul banned engineering on humans? Only through the seemingly random drunken walk of sexual reproduction do we gain the diversity needed to meet an unpredictable future.
I will find you. It is impossible to hide from me. You think you are clever, but your vanity is your undoing, Ascara the witch cooed as D_Light sank below the frothing waves.
It was then that D_Light woke, not because of the nightmare, but from the numbingly recognizable voice of his familiar. Master, your quest log has been updated.
Another nightmare? How is that possible? Smorgeous, analyze the dream…somehow. What’s that about my vanity?
Master, you have not experienced a dream state in the 23.4 minutes you have been asleep.
Not that again! What the hell is going on?
Master, you have another quest. You have made it clear that the MetaGame is your highest priority.
D_Light groaned. His head swimming, he cursed at his computer. He was sticky. He remembered where he was-remembered the lake-and wondered if he should go take another swim to wash off. Without waiting for permission, Smorgeous saturated his master’s optical senses with the quest log.
Quest: Seek out Dr. Monsa, great-grandfather of the House of Monsa. Dr. Monsa is the head patriarch of the House of Monsa. The House of Monsa is located at the following coordinates…
That is nearby, only thirteen kilometers from here, Lyra’s thought broke in. D_Light did not realize that Smorgeous had joined him into a blink with the nobles. Now the three of them were sharing thoughts as they reviewed the quest. It was more than a little disconcerting when his familiar shared his mind without explicit permission. Now he had to be careful to shield his thoughts in case something embarrassing cropped up in his head.
Finally, we get a softball, Djoser said. Go find a local immortal. What then? Say hello?
The doctor is by all accounts an elusive and unpredictable man, Lyra replied. Might not be so straightforward.
D_Light opened his eyes. Lyra stood over him, arching her back in a grandiose, catlike stretch. She spoke out loud, groggily and to no one in particular. “Let’s move out. We can work out the details on the way.”
After creeping out from behind the boathouse and through a yard overlooked by the large bay windows of an old-fashioned brick and mortar dwelling, they found their way onto one of the public trails. They walked quickly, trying to make good time. As they travelled they discussed how best to tackle the quest. According to what they could gather from the Cloud, the doctor would be very difficult to contact by remote means.
“Dr. Monsa is all about the biogames,” Djoser said. “He’s not going to talk to anyone that isn’t either a crack-shot wetgineer or otherwise on his short list.”
Lyra asked, “We will need to visit him in person then?”
Djoser nodded. “Yes, for outsiders like us, that would probably be the only shot at meeting him.” He frowned. “I blinked my mother about it. She won’t even try to arrange a meeting.”
“Same here,” Lyra said. “I tried to pull a few strings, call in a few favors, but nada.” Grinning, she added, “I think everyone who’s in the know is afraid of this guy. Afraid to piss him off or something.”