Fiction: Harken, a very short story.

I wrote a short story once for a rather open ended synthetic biology assignment in college, April 2012. I enjoy it now because the setting is super reminiscent of Altered Carbon, which I loved. I got there first. ;-)

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The sand was warm and a cool breeze brought with it the scent of the ocean. The only resident of this tropical island lay on his back, legs wet with the tide coming in. His eyes fluttered open, the calm of the beach shattered by his sharp gasps for breath. He rose to his feet, wobbly legs barely maintaining his balance. He was panicked, but gradually he gained his composure as he surveyed his surroundings.

“Here again...” the man muttered. “Fucking hell, that didn’t go well.”

He plopped back into the sand. “How much longer?” he screamed into the empty air. No reply came, and the man resigned himself to waiting. It was a pleasant lobby, but he found it frustrating.

He had died. He knew that for a fact now. This has happened before, once in Istanbul, once in Montreal, and now in... It took him a minute to piece his memories together. He had found his target, a scientist by the name of Karrigan. He had gone rogue, had developed some nasty weaponized bacteria that an extremist group of irish liberation agents were going to use in a strike against the monarchy.

They had captured him. Unbidden, bits and pieces of the torture and interrogation came floating back up. He rolled to his side in the sand and retched reflexively, his whole body shaking with the horrors he had been subjected to. He was trained for eventualities such as that, but that didn’t make what had come next easier. They had killed him. Slowly, piece by piece they had taken him apart, and he had died. He didn’t remember dying, but waking up here, on this beach, proved that had happened.

As he slowly pushed down the horrific memories, his nausea subsided.

“It’s coming back then?” A woman’s voice, like silk, spoke from behind.

He was startled, bolting upright he beheld a gorgeous woman. She was wearing a white shift that wafted gently off of her body as the wind played through her hair. He replied: “Yea it’s coming back. How much longer til everything is put together?”

“We pulled you out of a river. It took a bit more work than last time. They are almost done.”

“And the mission?”

“After you didn’t report back, teams were dispatched, they got Karrigan, but the contagion was already distributed. Karrigan is willing to work with the counter development team, but we had to promise full immunity from prosecution.”

“Fuck.”

“Harken, you did what you could.”

“I know, but I fucked up, and people are going to die because I got caught.” Harken replied dejectedly.

“You died trying to help them, they couldn’t ask any more.”

Harken took in the avatar, she was beautiful, with flowing long hair. Her hair was a light blonde, almost white. Her eyes seemed to shimmer in the light, changing from blue, to green, to grey with the tilting of his head. She smiled, a coy and playful smirk breaking across her face. Her eyes smiled too, a bright and cheerful expression that Harken couldn’t help but become infected by.

They had done some work, she was far more beautiful than the previous iterations he had encountered. Her body was likely based off of some gorgeous and famous starlet or another. Her skin was tanned, as if she truly did live in the sun on this beach.

“Is there anything I can do to help pass the time?” The woman asked, suggestively, obviously aware of Harken’s assessment.

“No thank you, what else can you tell me about the mission?” Harken replied, a bit more gruffly then he had meant. He felt rude for a moment, but the ridiculousness of being rude to a construct in a simulation made him chuckle.

“After you were found to be MIA, a full strike squadron was dispatched. Karrigan surrendered immediately, and gave up the locations and names of every contact in the organization he had ever encountered. They are all dead now. Unlike yourself, they won’t be rebuilt.”

“How much work am I waiting on?” Harken knew they wouldn’t have plugged him in until they were nearly done, but it could still be a potential process of weeks while the final touches were put on his internal organs and getting his new skin to a suitable condition.

His nervous system was obviously intact, even though he was hooked up to this simulation instead of his actual body. They would have already finished their debriefing, reading directly off of his neurons and their arrangement all of the details of Harken’s experience.

“You had about two weeks to rot at the bottom of a river, so we had to start from almost scratch. We used all of the pregrown tissue we had available for your genetic profile. We’ve regrown your kidneys and liver to the modified profile that you were using before, so feel free to continue abusing alcohol as you were.”

“Hey! An important part of my cover...” Harken muttered in reply.

“The sensory organs have received minor upgrades, but you shouldn’t notice any major difference in your modification utility. This is the testing process of your nervous system, and thus far all lights are green. Between what we were able to retrieve and your last scan you shouldn’t have any gaps, but feel free to inform us if you encounter any holes in your memories.”

The construct shuddered, losing visual coherence for just a moment.

“Do you have any other specific questions, they need to take the simulation offline. You should be plugged in to your new body soon.”

“No thank you, I think I’m up to speed. I presume Grant will be there when I wake up?”

“He has been working closely with the rebuild project, he looks forward to speaking with you.”

“Alright, feel free to take it offline then. See everybody when I wake up...” Harken looked back into the sea, taking in the soft sound of the waves lapping on the beach. The world gradually went black, and time stopped.

The next time Harken experienced his eyes fluttering open was an entirely different experience. His body screamed in pain, every nerve in his body was reporting searing agony to his central nervous system as they connected for the first time. He convulsed, his new muscles shaking and pulling against the series of restraints that kept him tightly to the table.

He shouted, streams of gibberish pouring out of his mouth as he gradually adjusted to his new larynx. The first word he managed to get out clearly enough to be understood was “water”. He repeated his plea, over and over again, to the vague shapes surrounding him. His new brain hadn’t adjusted to his new eyes fully yet. It wouldn’t take long, they had been engineered to work with one another, but for the next few minutes he couldn’t make out the individuals that filled the room.

Someone brought him a glass, and he turned his head to sip the fluid, making attempts to express his gratitude, but his voice was making just further gibberish. The water was delicious, his mouth was dry and fuzzy.

A shape that Harken had identified as a nurse came with a syringe. His vein burned as the sedative was pushed. He slowly relaxed his body back from what he had realized was an oddly contorted struggle against the restraints. He mumbled more gibberish under his breath, and gradually fell to a fitful sleep.

His next awakening was much more pleasant than the last, but perhaps less pleasant than the one before that. Thoughts of the woman on the beach gave him a slight smirk as he opened his eyes. He found himself in a white room, eyes, muscles, and nervous system working much better than when they first woke him. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pushing his call button to let his caregivers know he was up.

A moment later a rather pleasant looking chimera, possibly made with some hybridization of human and dog dna came bounding into the room.

“Awake and well?” The beast spoke, adjusting the drip of his intravenous infusion. His smile was warm, Harken had always enjoyed canine chimeras.

“Yes, thank you, is Grant on his way?” Harken asked.

“He has been sent for, would you like dinner?” The nursing chimera, who Harken had now identified via his nametag as “Growler”. A corny pun, but some chimeras were given the opportunity to name themselves, and canine chimeras weren’t exactly known for their brilliant wordplay.

“Yes. And water, lots of water.”

“Yes sir.” The chimera smiled and bounded back out of the room.

Harken smiled, Grant had probably arranged his care, he knew Harken enjoyed canines. Chimeras were a brilliant thing as Harken saw it. He honestly didn’t understand the protesters who rallied against creating them and using them for menial tasks.

Most of the larger corporations grew their own. They were not quite human enough to qualify for human rights, and modifications of their neural structure made them perfect servants. They literally gained pleasure from completing their intended tasks well; they were built for it from the ground up. A masterwork of synthetic biology, blending life from what nature and evolution had created, mankind had become masters of their own genetic code.

Grant came into the room with a smile on his face. A bit carelessly, nearly knocking over the pole with the IV hanging from it, he knocked Harken’s breath out his chest with the vigor of his hug.

“Easy man, dammit Grant you’re gonna snap all the new hardware.” Harken said with a smile, not fully able to contain his amusement.

“Glad to see you back in one piece son, I was really afraid we lost you.” Grant sputtered, tears welling up in his eyes.

Harken had been pieced together from ideal DNA contributors. Made from scratch to serve in the counter synthetic biological terrorism unit for the government of the United American-European Union. The CSBTU had built him, but Grant had raised him. There was no DNA connection between them, but Harken had only known a happy childhood because of Grant and his wife.

“After those bastards got you, I had every team that I could get my fingers into mobilized.” Grant spoke quickly, pacing in the limited space of the hospital room. “I don’t know if they would have been willing to reactivate you without the information you had gathered on the last mission... It’s bad Harken, with what’s happening in England right now, they have the entire country on quarantine until they develop a treatment. It’s a brand new black plague, they’re calling it the plague of darkness. Karrigan took endemic bubonic plague out of some arizona rats, gave it a custom virulence like you’ve never seen. Threw in resistances to every antibiotic we’ve got on the market, and most all of the ones in development. It’s tearing through their populace right now.”

“Fuck...” Harken dropped his head, fighting back tears as his voice cracked a bit.

“It wasn’t your fault Harken, we didn’t realize how far along in the project they already were. They had three separate facilities running day and night polymerase chain reactions. They were almost ready to distribute the contagion by the time you even got your leads on Karrigan. There was nothing you could have done...”

“Still, fuck... I was the agent in charge of that operation. My failure, my responsibility.”

“I saw your neural records Harken, you’re trying to beat yourself up over this, but you took more than your fair share up until your death. You did everything you could, and more.”

Harken stood, opening the closet in the corner. As expected, a fresh set of clothes waited for him. He dressed, a sharp suit and a pair of very sharp leather shoes. Exactly how the CSBTU wanted him to dress.

“You’ve got a new partner.” Grant spoke, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

“When do I go back on duty?” Harken replied, a confidence to his tone brought on by the new clothes that he didn’t truly know that he felt.

“Today, if you can handle it.”

“Let’s go then, no sense wasting time when there are rogue synthetic biology labs trying to end humanity..”

“Heh, a bit dramatic, but you’ll like your new partner, and your new case. He’s an interesting character, and the case in in Oklahoma, so you can consider it a really boring windy vacation...”

The two men made their way out of the facility, towards the headquarters building that towered over the campus. The hospital was a twelve story building, but it was dwarfed by the headquarters. All of the campus was classified to some extent or another. Harken himself was classified for that matter, an egg-mod. What he was wasn’t yet quite acceptable to the populace at large. Yet he fought, and died, to protect them from horrors they couldn’t comprehend, the amusement of which was not lost on Harken.

As they walked, the men talked.

“...from birth, yea, completely custom neurology. Heard his parents gave him injections daily as a reward system.”

“No way, so his reward pathways are all externalized?” Harken questioned, mouth agape.

“Yup, eats exactly what he needs to, doesn’t drink, literally gains no neurological pleasure from anything. His parents just gave him the drug to activate his reward pathways when he did well growing up. I guess he does it himself now, but he still follows a strict regimen of reward.” Grant gossiped.

“So Oklahoma you said?” Harken asked, getting to a more serious topic as the high security elevator took them towards the upper levels.

“Yea, you heard of the Eastborough Adventists? They are always picketing funerals and body modification facilities.”

“I’ve seen the news.”

“Well they are taking it a step further. One of the sons in the family dropped out of college only after studying deeply into synthetic biology. He’s not brilliant, but we are still concerned that he’d be able to hash together something troublesome. Not to mention, we’ve got some evidence that they may be putting together a lab, but I’ll let you evaluate that.” Grant finished his statements just as the elevator slid open, revealing the bustle of the computer interface level of the facility.

The system of the CSBTU used for their primary servers was one of the largest bio-technical machine in the northern hemisphere. Smaller computers made with grown neural networks were pretty common technology, but something most common users didn’t consider with neuron computing was scale. The combined biomass of the neural nets that made up this system was well over seventy tons. Safeguards were in place to ensure that the net did not gain sentience, it was a much larger concern than with the commercially available systems.

The trade-off to such a potentially dangerous system was its capacity. Their system was one of three that monitored all communications worldwide, and in the opinion of many, theirs was the best. The technological revolution reached heights previously unimagined once biological computing gained prominence. Computers no longer had to be built, they could be grown. And with some simple components and the right cells, every person could create their own hardware. Software was more complex, but was easily available on the heels of the existing world wide network.

Interfacing with this network was draining, and specially grown egg-mods were the most common operators. Sometimes a truly impressive birther with little modification would make it through the application process, but actually interfacing with a device of this magnitude quickly deterred most of the applicants.

They took three hour shifts, and Harken didn’t recognize any of the operators plugged in right now. His new partner was already there, speaking with a blank eyed operator as he trawled the depths of the databases. He guessed it was his partner anyways, he was dark skinned, dressed very conservatively. He stood awkwardly straight, with a face that displayed less emotion than most constructs. It seemed to fit with the gossip he had received earlier, so Harken decided to approach the man.

“Reggus I presume?” Harken spoke, extending a hand for a handshake.

“Yes, and you would be Harken. I am glad to see you are up and returning so soon. I have heard the process of rebuilding is quite unpleasant.” Reggus said as he returned the handshake, a bit mechanically. “I am sorry about the outcome of your last assignment. Despite that, I want you to know I do not regret my request to be partnered with you. Your record stands honorably, despite your latest failure.”

“Hrmm, well, thanks, I will be glad to work with you too...” Harken replied, not quite sure how to take the compliment. What do we have so far?” He asked, gesturing towards the operator who sat uncomfortably still, awaiting the next query.

“Well I am convinced that the Eastborough Adventists do in fact have an operational synthetic biology lab. Eaton, the elder son of the family has sufficient knowledge to build such; based off of his school records and brief interviews with teachers and peers. I have just completed queries relating to purchases made from known and suspected associates of the family. A family friend, Doris Grandwall, has been making purchases of biological components, which is abnormal for her purchasing habits. I suspect Eaton to be in either the development stage, or approaching production of whatever contagion he may be developing.”

“Heh, sounds like you’ve done all my research for me!” Harken exclaimed, letting out a slightly incredulous whistle. “So what’s left?”

“At this juncture, I suspect that approaching and interviewing the family may be our best approach. Their home is a paramilitary facility, with the entire family maintaining an attitude of aggressive non-interaction with society outside of criticizing the modification cultural movement on religious grounds. Their last major movement involved the arrest of three elder family members who are currently being held for trial after a conventional bombing. Increased security and scrutiny of the family and associates have ensured no further acts of aggression.”

“So you think the lab is in their home?” Harken was impressed so far, Reggus was new to fieldwork, but had already gathered enough pieces to justify a decent case.

“Most likely, careful scouring of pertinent subject’s movements and satellite records give no other location with a higher likelihood.” Reggus responded, eyes blinking less than Harken was comfortable with.

“Let’s go then?” Harken turned and walked towards the elevator, Reggus followed closely with a precise gait.

The doors slid open soundlessly, and Harken pushed the series of commands that would allow access to the armory. They traversed the floors in silence, Harken was caught in thought, trying not to ponder the philosophical implications of being rebuilt that he had struggled with since the first time it had happen. The silence continued as the doors opened, revealing the CSBTU armory. There was three main sections, and the guards nodded reverently as he entered into the first.

The first section was the conventional concealable, street legal weapon section. Row after row of knives, pistols, and low powered rifles lined the shelves. Harken pulled down an underarm harness, reaching for a Colt 1911.

“You enjoy the classics then?” Reggus asked, putting on his underarm holster and mounting a Remington 2024.

“Yes, I enjoy the classics. Still listen to Bowie and Skrillex, all the oldies but goodies.” Harken replied as he checked the rail on his pistol.

Harken reached for an ankle mounted utility knife, shuddered momentarily as memories of his last capture jolted through his mind. If he had managed to hold onto his knife last time... He pushed the memories back down and strapped on the knife.

“Have you been in this armory before?” Harken asked Reggus. Reggus shook his head no, as he stood from mounting his knife. “Well this is the first section, conventional street. Next section is conventional heavy, explosive, RPGs, assault weapons and the like. The third section is counter biological, lets head over. Strapped, Reggus and Harken made their way through the sterile, slightly cold corridors that led to the third, unconventional section of the armory.

The entire area was chilled, and there were three separate DNA tests to submit to before they could gain access. The only items they were able to withdraw were fast acting counter weapons. Flamethrowers and de-oxygenators were the most common defense in the war against synthetic biological terrorism.

Some of the more flamboyant weapons available were sprays of antibiotic cocktails, designed to ensure destruction of most simple bacterias. Mutagenics, discretely entered into a lab, could cause uncontrollable freak mutations in a batch, killing not only the product, but also whomever it was that was creating them in a largely untraceable manner.

Harken pulled down a pack of small vials and a vaporizer, designed to deliver a protective layer of beneficial bacteria. Ideally overpowering and destroying any outside contaminant he may be exposed to.

They made their way back to the elevator, opening to the lobby. An air-car awaited them, and they would be in Oklahoma within the hour. The fuel crisis had been solved by biofuels, as bacterium that digested biowaste and excreted useable fuel became more common.

Harken sat down, letting the car’s computer navigate the mess of traffic over the country as they made their way. Harken steeled himself. His was a difficult life, but without people like him, the world would fall apart. When scientists in the late twenty-first century first sequenced the genome, they may not have envisioned the atrocities that could be committed with that knowledge.

They may not have envisioned people like Harken either. People created and recreated for a singular purpose. To save humanity, and what humanity had become, from those that would use knowledge to destroy it.