The corporations learned four things:
1) The chips are insanely fine and complex to the point that any attempt to reverse-engineer it would be Impossible. (Yes, with a capital “I”)
2) Samurai are really hard to kill.
3) Corporations are not, nor are CEOs and Shareholders.
4) A warpath of Samurai is F’n scary.
Every now and then, some corporation forgets those lessons. Looks like it's time to remind them."
--Thandbar interview 2043 just before the market collapse of 2043, which was caused by the instant total dissolution of 6 of the top 500 Mega corporations.
***
My presence must have set off the automatic door alarm, because my father opened the door without my knocking. “You know you can just come on in, right?” He had a gentle smile and an arm already outstretched for a hug.
Shorter than I, we shared the same dark hair and eyes that people frequently called hawk-like. I’d always been told that people were afraid of him, mostly by kids of people under his command. But I’d always been able to see the kindness beneath the steel, even when I was the target of his fierce gaze or biting wit.
I clung to my dad, taking reassurance in his strength and kindness. “It’s been a hard day, and it all just hit me.” I answered him, not quite deflecting the question.
We released each other, and Dad showed me in. “Want to talk about it?”
“Yes, but we should see Mom first. I’ve got a surprise for her. One that you will want to be there for.”
He raised an eyebrow at me before gesturing to lead on.
We passed by the small modern kitchen and through a living room decorated in an open postmodern style. The floors were uncluttered with wide paths, and I remembered Dad yelling at me for leaving things lying around where it could be a tripping hazard. He still had the same firm but quiet voice he’d used to discipline a pair of unruly children, though it was more often aimed at his fellow officers these days.
We found Mom in her working lounge, seated in her favorite chair. She counseled people online, providing a supportive ear to talk to while dealing with their problems. Many of her clients felt more comfortable with seeing her even if she couldn’t return the favor, so she’d had her office decor designed for comfort. The soft couches and easy chairs combined with the simple decor were designed to put people at ease.
As we entered, she was just taking off her earrings. They provided location information for the cameras and microphones in the room, ensuring clear sight lines and good camera angles. Removing them signaled that not only had she finished the call but her workday too.
“Hey Mom,” I announced as I entered, as we always did. She looked tired, or maybe down. “Tough client?”
She smiled and turned to my voice, with her head cocked to the side as she often did. “Sometimes people forget that healing takes time, and it’s hard to convince them to trust in the process.” She sighed and ran a long-fingered hand through her pixie cut, dirty blonde hair. “We live in an age of medical miracles that happen overnight, but the mind and emotions are not so easily healed. But enough about me, how was your day?” She held out her arms for a hug, and I knelt into her comforting embrace.
--I’ll need a medical scanner. You can get it as a hand tool or on a drone. Either will do well.
I half smiled, fully aware of the irony in what I had planned. We broke our hug, and I sat back on the footstool before her and took her hand in mine. “I met a couple of new friends today. One is very smart and has some interesting ideas. From them I learned something about myself medically, and it had me worried about you. Apparently it’s inherited. They lent me a way to scan you and make sure you’re safe, if that is okay?”
As I looked at Dad, I’m sure my eyes twinkled. With a raised finger to my lips, I warned him.
"Purchased: Shoban MedGen Scanner Drone.
Cost: 200 Remaining points: 7,379”
A midsized box appeared silently on the floor. The lid had a seven-sided design on it, forming a slight dome. I lifted the lid, and a drone crawled out. The upright cylindrical body had 4 legs under three arms, all spaced evenly around its body.
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Dad jammed his fist into his mouth as his eyes flicked between the box, the drone, and me. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I nodded slightly. His eyes filled with surprise, hope, and longing as he stepped up behind me. “I think you should let him, Sally. This drone looks different from most.” He encouraged my mom without a hint of excitement reaching his voice, but his hands gripped my shoulders tight, transferring his trembling excitement to me.
“What’s involved in the scan?” she asked, her brow furrowed in concern.
--The drone’s going to crawl over her, it won’t hurt. I’ll know most of what I need in a few minutes. It will touch her skin, though.
“A bot will just crawl over you and probably have to put some items against your skin. It may feel a little creepy, but it should be quick. This is some top-of-the-line stuff they’ve provided.”
“If it’s going to find anything that Dr. Sievent missed, it better be good,” her flippant reply was timed with a wave of her hand. “But if it will put your mind at rest, then they can do it.”
“Thanks. Here it is coming now… I’ll hold your hand throughout.” The drone climbed up on her lap and reached up higher to her neck and face. It probed a number of places, working down from forehead to waist. A couple of minutes later, the scan was complete, and the little bot moved off to the side.
--Good news! Your mother is not in as much danger as you were. Her genes activated differently from yours, and they’re not going down the same path yours did. There’s some bad effects, though, and they should be addressed sooner. In particular, she is not as resilient against the effects of sleep deprivation compared to you. And I suspect she is having full bouts of insomnia more often.
I’d spent some time in my teen years worried about the fact that I could get by with very little sleep compared to others and studied up on it. And I still monitored myself carefully for any signs of the negative side effects.
--Yes, both can be treated. The blindness is easy; a simple nanite dose and she’ll be able to see in a few minutes, no retraining needed. The gene therapy would take more work and definitely should not be delayed long. There are decisions that you two need to make. You need to choose the means of doing the changes. And your mother needs to choose whether to complete the activation or to remove the DNA.
My sister, Jane, quietly joined us, having let herself in. “Hey, Mom,” she said to let Mom know she was there, then leaned over the chair and gave Mom a gentle kiss on the cheek. Standing up, Jane, ever the impatient one, stared at me under raised brows. One hand twirled nervously with a strand of her blonde hair, and the other hand rested steadily on Mom’s shoulder. Nineteen years of experience had taught both of us many tricks to hiding our emotions and deceptions from our mother, like diverting nervous energy away from any part touching Mom.
“Mom,” I started hesitatingly, “the scan showed two things. I’m going to address the second, so you know that my friend and I are serious about the first. Before I do that, I have to break a family taboo. We never talk about this, but I have to ask: if we found a way to get your sight back, would you want it?”
Mom’s eyebrows shot up for a moment in surprise as I spoke, then she scowled before answering. “Don’t tease your mother that way,” she spoke with a deep bitterness I’d never heard from her before, and I closed my eyes to fight off tears as she continued. “We tried and tried when you were little. And with each failure or rejection, I felt a bit of me die. A bit of hope crumpled until one day I heard how it hurt you two little ones. Jane’s innocent question, asked while I was out of the room, broke me." She paused, taking several deep breaths before continuing. "That’s when I stopped. It just hurt too much, and I refused, refuse still, to let this make me a bitter woman.”
I wished I could hug her and squeeze the pain away. Instead, I clung to the thought that she would see again soon if she just had the courage to try one more time. I grabbed her hand and squeezed tight, willing it to give her the strength to try.
Dad shifted uncomfortably behind me. “Love, as you said, we live in a time of miracles.” He spoke softly, almost pleading with her. ”We only needed access to a miracle worker.” His hands, already tight, clenched my shoulders painfully, and I winced silently.
“Are you talking Samurai tech? Where did you meet a Samurai?” Disbelief tainted Mom’s tone as she emphasized the last word, knowing how rare they were.
“I said I’ve made some new friends, and we’ve become quite close. It’s been a long day.” I half-smiled and winked at Jane. Over her shoulder, my sister’s eyes danced in a war between humor, excitement, and hope. She literally bit her lip to hold back her laughter. “So, if Merlin popped out of a dimensional hole and offered to heal you,” I had to pause and swallow down a spike of nervous fear that she’d reject me, “would you take it?”
She paused, finally taking my question seriously. Her hand started to tremble in mine, clenching and pulling, as if physically grabbing at a lost hope. When she spoke again, her voice was fragile and thin, barely a whisper: “I don’t dare ask for it, but if it was offered, I would never say no.”
I gently laid her hand out flat, mine pressed underneath hers. "Mama. I need you to trust me. Can you do that for me?" I whispered. She nodded, too scared to talk, too afraid her voice would break the spell. “Corie, with a box, please?”
A small box dropped into my mother’s hand, and hope filled her expression as she explored the box, hands still trembling. She ran them over the domed top with its seven-sided design, then fumbled at the lid. When it opened, she fumbled at the inside until seizing the inhaler. She spun it round and round, unable to right it in her excitement. I gently helped her right it in her hand and said, “Put it up to your mouth, squeeze, and inhale. It may feel weird for a bit.”
Mom, with my help, consumed the nanite healing compound and squeezed her eyes tight. My sister came around and knelt in front of the chair and took our mother’s other hand. Jane tilted her head, then tapped her temple. I shot back a look of both horror and thanks as I yanked the ugly data glasses off my face and stuffed them into a pocket.
Dad’s hands abandoned me as he shifted to Mom and grasped her in a tight hug from behind. Tears streamed down his face as he whispered, “Thank you,” in her ear and pecked her on the cheek. Mom leaned into him and clung to Jane's and my hands for several minutes. She twitched a couple of times at the odd healing sensations, then sighed and relaxed.
Finally Mom opened her eyes, and for the first time ever, after nineteen years, she looked at me. Her eyes drifted over me in amazement before locking on my eyes.
“Hi, Mom.”