Difference between revisions of "Russian Roulette With Handwavium"

Latest revision as of 16:34, 23 April 2011

The Jason:

I straightened up from where I'd been repotting one of my latest experiments, hands going to my lower back as I tried to stretch out the stiffness. Everything looked good so far; unless something totally off-the-wall showed up, I'd soon have a new cash crop plant to sell to the Martian terraformers. They'd loved the Mars-hardy cotton that I'd worked up - everybody needed clothes, and t-shirts were such a fan staple that cotton fabric was always in big demand. Now we didn't need to rely on the 'danes for it. I was looking forward to seeing their reaction to 'cool,' my wool/cotton hybrid: wool fibers grown in bolls like cotton - no sheep needed. And Lachesis would be happy, too. I'd gotten a good price for the cotton, as well as a discount on whatever I bought for myself, and I should be able to wrangle the same for this. She'd love having wool to play with in her weaving.

The pot went back into the chamber for Martian-tolerant seedlings, and I hooked up the monitor clip to one leaf. Another leaf got the music clip, and I chuckled softly to myself. I could have made a fortune if I'd sold THIS idea. Most biomodded plants seemed to respond to music; my opinion was that people had so gotten used to the idea that plants responded to music that it had become a dominant meme...and handwavium seemed to respond awfully well to memes. To thought in general, to be honest, but give it a good meme and it really took off. I'd guess that at least eighty percent of all plant mods responded to music at some level or another...and the actual number might be even higher. This could drive you crazy if you had to listen for too long. On the other hand...plants don't have ears; they just sense the vibrations. And the clip I had didn't play the music audibly. Hooked up to a stem or leaf, it relayed the vibrations of the music directly into the plant, no air-driven transmissions needed. This was highly useful for maintaining one's sanity, and a necessity for my mining plants - no air means no music, unless you used something like this. Since I'd recently started to sell mining plants to fen who wanted to try their hand at asteroid mining but who weren't sure about the whole mining concept, I'd gone ahead and posted the specs for the clips to the Net. Might as well do my bit for preserving people's sanity - what little we fen had, at least.

"All right, Clotho. Everything's set. Have you found anything specific for this batch, yet?" I sealed the door to the chamber, and watched the outside gauges as it set the interior conditions to the current ones for Mars.

Clotho's cheerful soprano came from the speaker nearest me. "Nothing yet. They respond somewhat to 'Dixie', but nowhere near as well as the actual cotton did. Ready for me to try the brute force approach, and run the library?"

I shook my head. "Not quite yet. Try Lehrer's 'I Wanna Go Back to Dixie' first, then....hmm...maybe the Baarmy Sheep of the Lake District. If neither of those work, then run the library, concentrating on anything sheep or cotton related first. I know there should be at least a few things, between the filk and Lachesis' weaving songs. Hell, they might even like the Hooligans. Try that one as well."

"Will do. Off for lunch?"

Nodding, I was already stripping off my gloves and headed for the door. "Yeah. Time to get a bite to eat. Let me know if anything unusual shows up, or if we hit a good match, music-wise." I smiled at her affirmative, and headed to the kitchen. Rummaging through the refrigerator, I pulled out the stir-fry I'd made the day before and sat down at the table to eat. "Hey, Lachesis? Anything going on?"

She answered as I took my first bite. "I'm finishing up the latest bit of weaving I'm doing, and the drones are going through the living areas for the daily cleaning. Atropos just brought in the latest harvest from the asteroid. We've nearly got a full bin now - worth cashing in, I'd say, lad. And a good time, as well. There's a new email for the Nation - Fate says that someone's called Convention."

My eyebrows went up, and I hastily swallowed the last bite I'd taken. "Convention? Wonder what's up.....? Tell Fate I'll be forward as soon as I finish lunch." From the nearest speaker came, "Aye, will do." With that, she went silent and I went back to eating - a bit more hurriedly than I might otherwise, since this sounded interesting. Putting my dishes into the dishwasher and starting it up, I headed forward to see what was going on.

As I entered the cockpit, Fate's voice rang out, in a HORRIBLE Japanese accent. Have you ever heard a Greek chorus try this? It shouldn't be missed, that's for sure. "Kevin! Come see! Much bad Engrish here, ah so!" I snorted and sat down in front of the monitor. "That bad, is it? All right....hit me." The screen flashed on, and as I read over the message, I groaned. Great ghu, how had this bunch gotten ahold of an alpha version of the original Babelfish program...and why in the world had they inflicted it on some poor innocent computer? I dashed off a quick reply to let them know that the Jason would be attending, then sat back and brooded for a bit...long enough to catch Fate's attention, anyway.

"Something on your mind, Kevin? About Convention?"

I sighed, and nodded. "Not quite directly...but yeah. That decision I've been putting off. I...think it might be time to try it." I'd been feeling my age, lately. I know I'm not that old in years - just into my forties - but as the old saw went, it's not the years, it's the mileage. Diabetes. Congestive heart failure. High blood pressure, high cholesterol. The start of arthritis. My weight, and all the problems that came with it, including the sleep apnea. Lowering the gravity a little had helped, but...it just kept adding up, and things weren't as much fun as they used to be. A year or two ago, I'd be really looking forward to Convention. Now...I still wanted to go, but it was more a chore than a joy. And given the implications of the excitement a month or so back...well, being exhausted most of the time might not be a healthy idea. I'd been hoping the researchers in the 'danelaw might've been able to come up with a perfected version before I needed to do it, but that wasn't looking likely. Time to play Russian roulette.

Fate spoke softly, "If you're sure....Clotho says the Tree has a few ripe apples." I nodded quietly. "Tell the others, would you? I'll probably need a large tarp as well. I've got some idea how this might affect me, and no sense making a mess. I'll talk to you all back in the living quarters, after I've gotten the apple." She was quiet as I left the cockpit, and both Lachesis and Clotho were silent as well as I went for the Garden.

Every good Garden should have a Tree in it, right? Mine was no exception. A small apple tree stood in what I knew to be one corner of the Garden, though the illusion made it look as if it were near an outcropping of stone. I checked and found one that looked ripe, then picked it and headed back to the kitchen. Sitting down at the table again, I plunked the apple down before me, and stared at it for a few minutes. It was pretty enough: a pale golden skin, almost like a Golden Delicious, though rounder than one of those. The faintest hint of an actual metallic golden gleam would clue most into the fact that the apple wasn't ordinary, however - that, and the dark imperfections on the skin. They were small, but definitely there, and I kicked my subconscious. It had been going non-stop when I'd been working on this idea, and the handwavium had latched onto the idea like a drowning man might a liferaft. Small black Greek letters were quite visible against the gold, spelling out Kallisti. All in all, it was quite an appropriate bundle for an agent of chaos, and that's what it was. Laced through the fruit was enough biomod-ready handwavium to induce a modification in a person. All you had to do was eat it...and take your chances.

Lachesis broke the silence. "So, lad....are you going to go through with it, then?" She sounded rather subdued. After Clotho, she was the most upbeat of the remaining Sisters, so she probably wasn't happy.

I breathed a sigh, and nodded. "I think so. I've been waiting a long time for something more controlled, but it doesn't look like it's going to happen anytime soon. And...I'm tired. I feel so OLD all the time now, and I want a change. I want to be healthy again, to have something actually resembling energy. I mean, I get by OK, but..." I shrugged, "...it's time. Might as well do it now. With luck, the changes won't be too severe, and if it works, I can actually enjoy Convention. If not...we can cross that bridge when we come to it. Worst case....you girls go to see Fred or Megan. They'll take care of you." That drew what sounded like a muffled sob from the speaker - Clotho - and her voice was trembling as she spoke, "Dad...."

Lachesis spoke up again, "It won't come to that, Da." I shrugged again. "I certainly HOPE not, but best to consider the possibility." Atropos added her two cents at that. "Forget the possibility. I REFUSE to clip your thread, Father. Go through with this if you want - but you WILL get through it." Her voice sounded tight, grim. Ah, my girls. Most of the time we didn't dwell on the relationship, but they were the closest thing that I'd probably ever have to children. Fate sang softly through the speakers. "Do what you have to do, Father, if it's what you wish. Come back to us renewed." I swallowed hard at that, and nodded. "I plan to. Go ahead and plot a slow course in to Phobos, Fate, and start us on our way. Get us there just at Convention time; I'll probably need a bit of time to get used to whatever this does." I could hear the faintest of hums in the background as the drive came online, and Fate answered. "We're on our way, Father. I'll work on the course as we go." I nodded, and then got up from the table.

One of Lachesis' mobiles had brought a large tarp in, and I spread it out. I weigh a lot, and if this worked anything like I wanted it to, the extra mass had to go somewhere. I wasn't sure what would happen, but I might as well prepare for a mess. I could easily envision likely scenarios, and a tarp would take care of some of them. I stripped down all the way, putting my glasses on the kitchen table, then took the apple back to the tarp and sat down in the middle of it. "Wish me luck, girls." They all chimed in for best wishes, though they certainly didn't sound happy. Too worried for that, at least for now. I took a deep breath, and started in on the apple. It didn't take too long to finish off. There wasn't a core, since I hadn't planned on this variety to reproduce that way...and removing it gave me a chance to pack even more handwavium into the fruit. I settled back, stretching out...and felt myself start to fall asleep immediately. I knew that, whatever might happen next, I probably wouldn't want to be awake for it...and I'd designed the apple with a natural sedative effect. Hopefully, by the time I woke up, everything should be over. One way or another. Time to see just how good of a jason I really was.