“What is this place? What’s in all these tanks?”
She glanced at me, and she seemed reluctant to speak. Taking in a deep breath, she finally spit it out. “This is a vault of the past. Central—the people who run it, I mean—they’ve seen fit to keep a repository of various minds they consider worthy of preservation.”
“Minds that are…” I looked around, and a chill ran through me. “You aren’t saying these are people or something? I thought they were some kind of fish-aliens.”
“Most are human.”
“How can they fit inside these little tanks?”
“Extraneous body parts have been discarded. Only the intellect has been preserved.”
“What? Holy hell… are there brains in there? That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it?”
“Not just brains. It depends. Some have heads, eyes. That one you were tapping at has some hair left. Didn’t you see it drifting around?”
I stared at her, then back at the tank. She was right. That movement—it could have been a floating lock of hair.
“Are they dead?”
“They are only partially aware. They sleep most of the time. When a consultation is required, we awaken them.”
“Holy bejesus…”
She led me through the tanks, which lined long twisting passageways, to the back of the place. There, she worked on a computer console. A face came up on the holotank—an entire disembodied head. The man was kind of old-looking. He was balding in front, and he looked at us like he could see us.
“Who disturbs my work?” he asked.
“Holy shit…” I whispered. “Is he in one of these tanks?”
“Shut up, James. Dr. Demikhov? Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you. I can see you. What do you want?” the hologram said with a distinct Russian accent.
“I need some advice. You’ve worked on many projects involving medical experiments. Have you ever tried to revive a being without a body scan?”
Demikhov squinted at her, then at me again. “I know you as Floramel. Please call me Vladimir.”
“All right, if it will help—Vladimir.”
“I’m lonely at times,” he said. “It’s always nice to talk to a woman.”
Floramel’s face tightened. She was trying to smile, but she was failing at it. “About my question, Doctor?”
“Yes, of course. Has this creature never been scanned? Can’t you use an old scan?”
“Normally, we could… but he left Earth’s service. He was purged.”
“I didn’t know that,” I interrupted loudly.
They both looked at me.
“Excuse me, Floramel, but who is this person?” Demikhov demanded.
“He’s an assistant. He brought the case to me.”
She began to explain, and as she did so, the weird scientist-head became interested. He seemed to find the problem fascinating. It was surely creepy to me. The finger in Floramel’s cup was less freaky than this dead scientist guy we were talking to.
“A curious problem… it will take some work to grow a body from a small sample. Normally, we scan it while it is complete and therefore filling in the lost parts is child’s play.”
“Of course, Doctor, but what recourse do you suggest in this particular case? Is it hopeless?”
“No, no. Not at all. I’m not the best authority, however. You need a cloner.”
“Cloning is illegal!” I exclaimed. The other two gave me another sour glance, but they didn’t answer directly.
“Speak with Dr. Jianskui. He was a renowned specialist in illegal cloning before the Galactics came along to ruin everything.”
“All right. I’ll try to reach him. Thank you… Vladimir.”
“Floramel, one more thing: if you are successful, I would be interested in studying the process myself.”
She tilted her head and regarded him quizzically. “How so?”
“I’m surprised you don’t see the connection. If you could create a full body-scan from a scrap of material… well… perhaps a person such as myself could benefit from the same procedure.”
Floramel studied him for a moment. Her face was expressionless, but if I had to guess, I’d say she was close to horrified at the idea.
After a few rough moments, she forced a smile. “That would be a wonderful thing. We’ll look into it—if we’re successful.”
The ghostly hologram faded from view. I grabbed Floramel’s arm as she began punching in a new search.
“Who was that spooky guy?”
“That was Dr. Vladimir Demikhov.”
“I know that much. What did he do? Why is he in a tank down here five hundred levels under Central? Did his dog shit on some prime minister’s lawn?”
“He died a long time ago—technically. He was preserved by the soviets in the nineteen hundreds as a possible source of ingenuity in the future.”
My mind and my eyes boggled. “What? The nineteen hundreds? So he’s like… two hundred years old, or something?”
“Something like that. But not really. Think about him as a man who has been revived—in part—but after being dead for a century. He didn’t live for all that time, he was in limbo.”
“Wow… After a full century of being dead, somebody brought that poor bastard back as a turd in a tank? That’s rough. Are you going to help him out, someday?”
“What?”
“You said you would, if we were successful.”
Floramel’s eyes were downcast. “Hegemony would never allow it.”
“You’re probably right. Who’s this next guy? What was his name—?”
“Dr. He Jianskui is my name,” said the new hologram that had swum into view. He spoke with a Chinese accent. “Who wishes to consult with me?”
“I’m Floramel, Doctor. I’m a tech-smith. This man is my assistant.”
Jianskui looked her over, then me. He had a piercing stare.
“I’ve been mistreated,” he said. “I won’t help anyone until a new body is found for me.”
Floramel forced yet another smile. “We’re working on that, Doctor. In the meantime, perhaps you can help us.”
“I will not. You are my captors. You aren’t here to help anyone but yourselves.”
“But this
