Primelife

By Robert Golino

  

Can humanity survive in the perfect world?

New drug Primelife promises heaven on earth: Unending life and a society where everyone's needs are provided for.

But things are not quite as they seem.

Stuart Deadman is a brilliant theoretical physicist, but virtual reality is offering him something the real world can't.

Sofia Nicoletti is a woman desperate to have a child in a society that forbids them. Her strong maternal instincts ultimately prevail, but not as she imagined.

Ben Donaldson is an ordinary citizen thrust into the center of a political crisis.

And Karla Hoffman is an enforcement detective investigating an unsolved double murder. As she peels away the layers surrounding the case, she uncovers a disturbing government secret.  
The unintended consequences of Primelife are slowly emerging, and the promise of utopia may not be enough to save the world from tearing itself apart.

 

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Golino
• Release date: Dec 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386840176

Book preview

Dedication

FOR BARBARA,

WITHOUT YOUR ENCOURAGEMENT I would still be working on the first chapter.

Acknowledgement

THE COMPLETION OF THIS book could not have been possible without the participation and assistance of my family and friends. I greatly appreciate and want to acknowledge all who have given me so much help and support.

SPECIAL THANKS TO

Heather Nelson, Rachel Daniel, Michele Mann, Jody Pike,

Laura Golino De Lovato, Erta Matson, Brenda Peyton,

Doreen Trenholm, Jennifer Miner, Michael Golino,

Jeff & Laurie Prather, Ivana Pozajić Jerić,

Giovanni Triboli, Valeria Pizzolato, Rusty Kraemer,

Laura Perkins.

COVER DESIGN BY

Michael J. Golino

EDITING BY

Ivana Pozajić Jerić

Preface

I HAVE BEEN AN ARDENT fan of Science fiction since I was very young, but over the years I feel the genre has changed. The profusion of post-apocalyptic science fiction novels has left no stone unturned. Every conceivable method (human or alien) of pillaging, enslaving, and nuking our dear planet has been told and retold. Aliens with incredible technology seem to have nothing better to do than to come to our planet just to make our lives miserable.

In most cases this sub-genre has more in common with fantasy than with science. And while there are some very good stories based on science and technology, inevitably the drive and drama of these stories are centered on the personality of a megalomaniac who wants to use technology to rule the world. These stories miss what might be a more compelling vision about the dangers of how new technology is taking us into the future.

No doubt, the post-apocalyptic genre is very popular, but what I find so interesting is the world we actually live in is the exact opposite. Millions of diligent, and extremely smart people work every day (with the best of intentions) to create new technologies and medical breakthroughs, hoping to make the world a better place. These hardworking scientists and engineers are focused on eliminating hard manual labor, improving our health, and extending our lives.

Primelife is the story of new technologies where science has triumphed creating what was always considered to be a perfect world. But what is perfection? Perhaps it isn’t the world everyone expected. What are the unintended consequences of creating and then trying to live in a perfect world? Primelife brings to life one possible future where perfect isn't so perfect.

ROBERT GOLINO

CHAPTER 1

CITY OF ARIES, MARCH 15, 2417

BEN DONALDSON HELD firmly onto the handrail as he slowly climbed the wrought iron staircase bolted to the outside of the Central Agency Building. The staircase had been built for aesthetic effect, not for regular use; the steps were narrow and irregular as they followed the curves of the building that spiraled up to the dome at the very top. Despite the difficulty, Ben decided it was the best way to avoid the security station on the transition floor. He needed to get up to his office without anyone noticing he had grown old. The wind made the climb much more difficult for him, and he began to wonder if he had the strength to keep going. When he finally reached the top, he stopped to catch his breath and to admire the panoramic view of the city of Aries spread out below him, the alabaster towers gradually diminishing in size as they faded into the horizon.

Ben was now an old man at a time when age no longer had meaning.  His lean body, bent with severe atrophy, cast a solitary shadow against the smooth white exterior of the building.  While he rested, he leaned against the railing and gazed out at the sunset. The day had worked its way toward evening, then began to toil toward night, the last rays of light turning bright hues of crimson as they surrendered to the darkness.

The universal battle of light and darkness had performed this solemn ritual every day of his life.  Some things never change, he thought, but now he was ready for a change: a transformation of body and spirit leaving behind everything he had ever known.  Ben had been born here in Aries, and here he would die, but fate had taken him on a path he could never have imagined. He looked out across the city one last time, then with the slowness of extreme old age, he pulled open the door to his office and shuffled his way across the room.

The large penthouse office was at the very top of the tallest building in Aries. Twenty-four years ago, Valerie White, the Assistant Director, had shown him the office for the first time. Ben had just been named Aries’ honorary First Citizen, and had been assigned the office as part of his commission to produce the report on the Crisis of 2393. That first day, Valerie had the window coverings drawn open for him, revealing the magnificent view of the city below. She had also brought a bottle of champagne to wish him success with the report, and to celebrate the event that would become the sole focus of his life.

The report was finally finished. His doubts and second thoughts about how it was done had long since vanished. Once he had made the decision to stop his Primelife drugs and had begun to age, his attitude had changed. He was confident the report would produce the desired result; the long years of work, the research, the interviews, had all been well worth the effort. 

Ben crossed the expanse of the office to an over-sized desk which sat squarely in the center of the room. He laid out twelve neatly labeled VR journal packets on top of the desk. He also left a handwritten letter addressed to Director Alex Fullson, and a small glass case which held a curious instrument that had been doubled over and partially crushed.

Ben looked at the desk with satisfaction, then turned and sat down, his small shrunken frame dwarfed by the over-sized chair. He opened a lower desk drawer and took out a primitive iron cup and a small copper flask of Surgate hemlock; these traditional ceremonial items had been a gift from his Surgate friend Ethen. He picked up the flask and poured himself a drink. His hands shook with anticipation, and he needed both hands to keep the flask steady.

He stared at his hands with their loose wrinkled skin and swollen joints; they seemed foreign to him, as if they belonged to someone else. He remembered that it wasn't long ago that he had attended a Surgate celebration of life and had seen old hands like his for the first time. He picked up the cup with the confidence of having done it every day of his life, and emptied it in one quick motion. He set the cup down, and by the time his head had reached the back of the chair he was dead.

CHAPTER 2

HOPING HE ROTS IN HELL isn't going to help, the Assistant Director said.  She was gingerly sipping her hot coffee to avoid scalding her lips. Ben made sure that everyone will see the report, she continued. Right now, you have a chance to go public to get ahead of the release and try to minimize the damage.  You don't have much choice.

So that's the best we can expect? The Director asked dryly. He sat slumped over in his chair rubbing his eyes from lack of sleep.  At five in the morning the authorities had been informed of Ben Donaldson's death. It was now almost six, and the Director’s entire staff had been called in for an emergency meeting.  Director Alex Fullson stood up and stretched. He was a tall muscular man with strong features and a full head of thick black hair. He was in the Prime of Life, as it was called, but then, everyone was in the Prime of Life.

Valerie had been his Assistant Director for twenty-five years; still, he could never figure out her agenda. She was the most competent person who had ever worked for him. She oversaw the day-to-day operations of the Director's office to the point where Alex had become just a figurehead, but he didn't sense in her any ambition to further her career. Even though this seemed odd to him, he nevertheless had confidence she would defend the Director's office and his administration.

OK, what do we know for sure? Alex asked, as he tried to wake himself. He had spent the night with another new lady friend, and was only now coming to realize the severity of the situation.

We don't have much, she began.  we know Ben died last night at ten o'clock from Surgate hemlock. Valerie took a few more sips of coffee. And that's not good, she added sarcastically.  The medical examiner estimates he must have stopped his Primelife drugs about twenty years ago. His body would have aged slowly at first, then during the final years, the aging would have accelerated. It appears he was on the verge of organ failure; the Surgate hemlock finished him off.

That means he must have stopped his Primelife drugs not long after he began working on the report, Alex said.

It looks that way, Valerie replied. Enforcement surveillance video from yesterday shows Ben wearing a hat and carrying a large bouquet of flowers to hide his aged face as he came into the building. He also wore a long coat to hide his shriveled body. To avoid the security station at the transition floor, he climbed the steel staircase on the outside of the building

Alex looked up at Valerie in disbelief. He climbed up what?

Look Alex, Valerie continued. He wanted to die in that office; he was making a statement.  We don't know much else.

Why hadn’t anyone noticed that he had aged? Alex asked. Someone must have seen him.

We are reviewing security video to see if there is any other info, but he hasn't used the office for several years, and so far, we haven't been able to find anyone who has seen him recently. Rumor is, he spent the last couple of years in Europe. In the past, he had a number of assistants, but he hasn't had any for quite some time. Ben has been working on this report for almost twenty-five years; so much time had passed that no one expected he would actually produce anything.

I know, I know, Alex mumbled. He was only now beginning to assess the political damage to his administration. As First Citizen, Ben was entitled to a government-sponsored funeral. The last one in Aries was more than 120 years ago. It was the result of a high-speed transport accident where several government officials had died. Ironically, it was that incident which opened the way to Alex's political future.  But this was completely different, an old wrinkled body in a public ceremony would be political suicide.  Even worse, it appeared that Ben had embraced the Surgate culture.

Alex turned to Valerie, Have you found anything in his report? he asked abruptly.

Well, she began, then paused to take a few more sips of coffee. It's still too early to say. I have someone skimming each journal trying to get a quick overview, but it's not a documentary report of facts and figures. It took him twenty-four years because he wanted to recreate certain historical events.  Evidently, he took the time to find out the details of the people involved in the crisis, and perhaps interviewed them himself. The report is in a virtual reality format, done as a series of personal histories, but we haven't been able to understand the connection between them. It must be a new art form of some kind.

Alex suddenly felt flushed with anger. He sensed the sarcasm in Valerie's voice.  He was the one who had commissioned Ben Donaldson to make the definitive report on the Crisis of 2393. It was Director Fullson who announced in public speeches with much fanfare that Ben would make the report a new art form.  Now he was going to pay the price.  He wasn't upset with Valerie, he was furious at his own foolishness.

In any case, Valerie continued, it doesn't appear it's a Surgate conspiracy, even though he died of Surgate hemlock.  As I said, he is trying to make a statement, we just don't yet know what that statement is.  It's not a coincidence, she began, when a staff member interrupted to give her an update.  She turned and the two spoke in whispers.  Alex looked over at her and wondered how it was possible that she was perfectly dressed, her hair done up, and nothing out of place, at that hour of the morning.  She was a very attractive woman, and the Primelife drugs had preserved her youthful appearance.  However, for reasons Alex didn't understand, she downplayed her looks, always dressing conservatively. She also never spoke about her personal life, which was unusual; most of the women he knew flaunted their sexuality and boasted about their relationships.

Valerie turned back to Alex and continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted.  It's not a coincidence that we were alerted to his body early.  He is giving you a chance to come out first and notify the public. We don't know the report's conclusion, or how it will be received, but we can hedge our bets. If we come out and acknowledge the report as an independent work of Ben Donaldson, throw in a few of your political slogans, you know, about equal access of information, freedom of expression and belief, and so on, it won’t look like you are hiding anything.  This way you can distance yourself from the report, we can assess the situation after we have seen it, and go from there.  In my estimate he has arranged to have the journals come online in a couple of hours; that doesn't give us much time.

I imagine, Alex replied, you already have a statement prepared.

Valerie looked over to one of her staff for confirmation.  It should be finished in a couple of minutes, she said. Would you like to review it?

No, it's not necessary.  Alex knew she was right, it was the only option he had.  He also knew the statement would be appropriately vague, yet with an air of confidence, as if the report had always been scheduled for today. Go ahead and go with it. he said, then slouched back in his chair with an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

For the last twenty-four years Alex had boasted that Ben Donaldson's report would vindicate the Urban Federation Coalition, and implicate the Surgates as a subversive element. Alex believed the Surgates had been responsible for the catastrophic failures of the SCE space program in what became known as the Crisis of 2393. Not all Urbanites agreed. Many considered the Surgates to be simple country farmers who had refused to join the Urban Federation for religious reasons. They didn’t see them as a threat.

As years went by, journalists continued to question Alex about the report. He would always reply that Ben was working hard, and it was sure to be finished soon. In reality, he never believed Ben was capable of producing more than a compilation of old news that would soon be forgotten. Ben had no training in investigative journalism, and with all the perks of First Citizen, Alex believed he was in no hurry to finish. He simply didn't understand Ben's connection with the Surgates. Ben had lived in Aries all his life; he had most likely never even met a Surgate traditionalist until he started his report. Was it possible he had converted to Surgism?

CHAPTER 3

IT LOOKS LIKE BEN WANTED to give us a head start, Valerie said, as she handed Alex copies of the journal packets. We know the report is coming online shortly, nevertheless he left us copies; he must have had a reason for it. If you want to take advantage of it, you had better get going.

Alex grabbed the packets and left the meeting room. His head throbbed from lack of sleep. It had been nearly dawn when he got back from his date; he had made a point of never staying the night. I have an important early meeting was his standard excuse, and it always worked. He was, after all, the Director of Aries.

He had been home only a few minutes when Valerie called. There was no time to shower. He brushed his teeth, splashed some cold water on his face, and changed his shirt. He knew he still smelled of her perfume, but wasn’t going to worry about it. Why today? He asked himself. Twenty-four years, and he picks today. Alex knew it wouldn’t have mattered; any day an Urbanite died as an old man would be a bad day for him.

Now, he just wanted to get back to his apartment and view the report. Alex left the meeting room and started down the main corridor when he was surrounded by friends and colleagues pushing in to ask him about Ben.  He was taken aback at how fast news of his death had spread. How the hell did they know? He glanced further down the corridor hoping to slip through, but instead saw media personnel streaming in from the hallways.

Alex was a master at working a crowd; his strong charismatic personality always made him the center of attention. His political career was built on his quick wit and humor, and his ability to make people feel important. But now the situation completely baffled him. No doubt he had misjudged Ben Donaldson; until he had a chance to view the report he wanted to avoid making any comments.

I forgot to tell Valerie something. Alex called out, and back-tracked to the meeting room. Valerie was at the far end with one of her aides opening a glass case. What’s that? Alex asked.

We’re not sure, Ben left it on his desk with the journal packets, it’s some kind of instrument, but it’s been crushed. He brought it with him when he moved into the office. When I asked about it, he said it would be included in his report.

Alex barely glanced at it. I need to find another way out of here, the main corridor is flooded with media.

Jeff, hey Jeff, Valerie called out. Help Alex get safely out the back way, he’s in a hurry.

Jeff was a large solid man with big square shoulders, but his boyish face didn’t go with his body. And his nose; his nose didn’t go with his face. He must be new here; Alex was sure he hadn’t seen him before. He would have remembered him; his nose had obviously been broken and not properly reset.

This way Director, you can take the service elevator. Jeff led Alex through a back room and down a hallway.

I would take it all the way down to the ground floor, he suggested. No one will expect to see you down there.

Thank you, Jeff. Alex said, as he entered the oversized elevator, That’s a good idea.

The elevator doors closed and Alex couldn’t help but wonder why Jeff had left his nose that way.  Plastic surgery was routine and available for the asking. Didn’t everyone want to look their best? The elevator dropped down quickly. Alex felt his stomach jump into his throat, and his mind quickly turned to his own problems.

Alex had never needed to use a service elevator. As Director of Aries, one of the largest and most important cities in the Urban Federation, he had access to all the transport corridors. Friends and aides would often travel with him in the Director’s plush executive shuttle, never leaving the upper levels of Aries, where they could go from tower to tower through the advanced infrastructure that tied the city together. He enjoyed being in control and the center of attention, but now he sensed a political shift was at hand. No one had seriously challenged him in the last two elections. They’ll never take us down, Alex boasted to his staff after the last election. His method of developing political allies had created a strong network. Anyone of importance owed him not merely favors, but their political lives. How was it possible that Ben Donaldson, a political nobody, was single-handedly about to end his career?

The service elevator came to an abrupt stop that left Alex light-headed. He stuck his head out and saw that people were gathering and talking loudly in the main lobby. Ben’s death, that’s what they would be discussing. Why else would they be up at this hour? To avoid them he turned and hurried down a side hallway leading outside to the plaza. He needed to be alone to collect his thoughts. Hardly anyone was outside that early, most people used upper level corridors and transports, so Alex found quiet anonymity in broad daylight in the center of the city.  To clear his head and shake off the sluggishness from his late-night carousing, he decided to walk through the middle of the plaza. He crossed the center section that was ornately landscaped with small shade trees and flower gardens, and where the paths converged at a small pond with a fountain in the center. He marveled at how beautiful and peaceful it was in the early morning. All the other times he had been there were during political rallies when it was noisy and crowded.  Hundreds of feet above him was a footbridge that spanned the central plaza. That was the place, he remembered, where Ben Donaldson had first been cast into the limelight.

Ben had been caught up in the middle of the Crisis of 2393, and emerged as a hero. He claimed it was simply a coincidence, and that he was