A Promise to the Faceless

By D A Barr

A sci-fi, space opera novel set in a dystopian future Earth. Discover this world as you experience it through the eyes and minds of those who call this place home.

This book combines high plausibility science fiction with high drama. This dystopian Earth holds a human population of just under 1 billion, and falling, with a growing population of "non-humans", anthropomorphic chimeras, to manage. This story also holds elements of mystery and discovery, learned as you experience this place alongside the characters within.

As one reads each chapter, you may find common ground with that character, you will learn the harsh realities of life in this place and time. You gather another piece or two of the underlying puzzle, of how this world came into existence. New questions could be presented; some of which may have been answered in a previous chapter. Some questions will tantalize you until the end.

The science revolves around two major aspects; genetic engineering, now lumped into the blanket category, "bio-engineering" in the book, and mind uploading, or mind transfer. Here in this place and time, organic, biological beings are being engineered, grown, and programmed to serve as slaves to those humans who can afford them.

The world, and its static economy, are run by a plutocratic oligarchy. Only the wealthiest of all can afford to buy a seat on "The Board". No individual can stand against them, but each individual member fears one person above all others, Martin Boardman. He holds formidable power. No one has yet found out why Martin is always one step ahead of the competition.

In brief, this sci-fi, space opera novel is a story of a place just beyond our own horizon, of a time as close as tomorrow, as told through the lives of ten people who live here.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9780998635026

Book preview

Prologue

The planet and its people had their share of problems before this. Humanity had already done enough damage to put themselves in jeopardy; then came The Tainting. Slow to reveal itself, it traveled the globe inside human hosts. Within just a few years, practically all species of land based, placental mammals died of the infection. Only the most isolated of places were spared. Most if not all of the surviving mammals proved infertile, or worse, fertile but genetically damaged.

Within the first two years alone, the human population plummeted from over nine billion souls down to less than two billion. Most offspring were deformed beyond what was survivable. Those who lived beyond infancy were viewed as monsters, as tainted.

An even more immediate problem, The Tainting had passed onto insect populations. Those insect species that underwent full, three-stage metamorphosis died during their pupal stage. Flies, mosquitoes, fleas, and other pests virtually became extinct. Unfortunately, so did bees, wasps, ants, butterflies, beetles, and other insect pollinators.

The plant life that depended on them began to suffer. The shortest-lived among them, the annuals, began to disappear as their naturally sewn seed stock quickly depleted.

Nature abhors a vacuum. Grasses and other wind born pollinated plants thrived. Grasshoppers made the first bid at replacing the mammalian grazers, and locust swarms once again became a common sight. Termite colonies pulled stems underground and, for a time, grew unchecked to cover vast areas of grasslands with their earthen citadels.

Birds and reptiles, dragonflies, mantids, bugs, and arachnids did their best to fill other voids left behind. Life would go on, but not on a timetable that could suit humanity's needs.

Famine quickly spread throughout the remaining human population. Food was the most precious resource. Arable land once again became the prime currency of the powerful. As many of the world's governments had been physically beheaded by the population crash, most were powerless against the well funded and well armed land grabs made by the world's major corporations.

The inevitable deployment of stockpiled weaponry resulted in vast swaths of land being either sterilized from air bursts, or poisoned by ground strikes. Largely underpopulated, and there being little strategic value in their destruction, most cities were left untouched. The vast majority of missiles launched were detonated in flight, far away from any populations. The worst appeared to be over.

By the time open fighting had ceased, the period known as The Corporate Wars had seen an additional nine-hundred million human lives taken. Among the wildlife of the planet, extinction of entire species became commonplace.

Toward the end of the fighting, an organization comprised of the wealthiest and most powerful people on the globe announced their planet wide control of governmental affairs. They have ruled unopposed for the last eight years. Whatever they originally called themselves was soon forgotten. Now, everyone knows them as The Board.

From the beginning, tucked away in small laboratories scattered across the globe, small teams of scientists and medical professionals worked furiously to keep humanity alive. Physically isolated from the rest of the world to prevent possible contamination and often in competition for resources, each team struggled to find workable solutions to present to their investors.

1 – The Cursed Miracle

[11 years since The Tainting, December 3, 0515hrs, outside of Toronto.] The woman watched the microscope's monitor screen and smiled. It worked! In this fifth copy of a copy, the embryo was not only alive, but organogenesis was well under way. The tiny canine heart was beating strongly. Everything seemed perfect.

A handsome and imposing East Indian woman in her early forties, Amita Sharma looked up from the screen and called out, Bobby, your attention.

Over the computer's speaker, a female voice. Yes, Amita.

Put me in touch with Kayin Musa.

The computer voice replied, Right away, Amita.

Soon, a sleepy, female, Nigerian accented voice came through, Good morning, Amita. You are certainly up early. Kayin's voice echoed slightly within the lab.

Haven't been to bed yet. Amita took a sip of her tea. It looks like we managed to stabilize the genome. Copy number five is stable and growing. Do you have the numbers yet?

Let me see. . . Oh yes, genetic drift appears to follow the pattern that Martin predicted. This subject indicates a 0.00002 percent drift from the original host template. We might discover small changes in brain growth patterns, or the like, but likely no visible abnormalities.

A small cry issued from a bassinet, nearby.

Amita smiled and turned to check on her infant daughter, Gloria. The precious product of one of her few, viable ova and a long-dead sperm donor, the girl still slept soundly. Amita asked her colleague, How's the progress in the growth chamber?

Kayin replied, The latest batch of growth medium seems to be quite an improvement over the previous one. The test subject is still alive, and gaining mass. I can see fur developing.

Smiling at the good news for a change, Amita took a deep breath and let it out. Thank you, Kayin, sorry to wake you.

Just don't make a habit of it, OK?

No promises, goodbye. Amita turned her attention back to the microscope's screen. She had often thought to ask Kayin to share quarters, but had so far talked herself out of it. Amita knew that her work would always be the center of her life, and that brilliant, vibrant, ebony skinned woman deserved better.

Their small company's funding was running out; The Board's grants had dried up and smaller investors had grown impatient at the lack of progress over the last few years. This good news might have arrived just in time to save her business.

Her baby began to cry. Amita walked over to the food refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of formula, and placed it in the microwave oven to warm. When the tone sounded, she pulled out the bottle and walked over to her baby's bassinet. Shh, my darling, Mother's here.

* * *

Three years had passed. With renewed enthusiasm, investors had been practically throwing money at Amita and Kayin's company, Humanity Beyond Better. Shortly after her and Kayin's proven success in growing cloned, human babies outside of human wombs, her employee, Martin Boardman, and his friend and outside business partner, neuroscientist Hannes Karlsen, arrived in her office with an amazing breakthrough.

Here's the setup, all laid out. Hannes brought up an image on the largest screen in Amita's office. His blue eyes, blond hair and tall, thin frame marked him as pure Scandinavian as one could find, these days.

Hannes played a short video clip of rats and pigs selecting a target, solving a puzzle, or quickly negotiating a maze. By channeling it through our proprietary supercomputer interface, and the other ancillary technology we developed to go with it, we can now transfer an animal's personality into a clone of themselves. Tests have repeatedly shown us that there is no appreciable loss of autonomic functions, motor control, or memories.

Excited at having her own news to share, Kayin said, "I think I broke past the size barrier; the new design should be able to maintain a stable, uniform environment large enough for anything smaller than a horse. Upscaling the placental interface should pose no problems.

Martin's been helping me with another idea I've been working on, as well. I think we figured out how to trick the body into extending its rapid growth period indefinitely. We're still working on the best way to suppress the hiccup that pops up about the time the body reaches puberty, but it looks like we could start growing human clones clear to young adulthood.

Tests on human volunteers came next. Geriatric and terminally ill subjects soon found themselves in healthy, young copies of their own bodies. Provided that their minds were still sharp, or at least relatively intact, people could now have their personalities transferred into fresh reproductions. This new cloning and transfer technology had given those who could afford it the option of extending their own lives, indefinitely.

Though the planet's human population continued to decline, the death rate among the wealthiest people was now rapidly approaching zero. Humanity Beyond Better had become the most profitable corporation of all time.

With this new found power, Amita bought herself a position on The Board.

* * *

[Year 18, November 7, 0722hrs] Hello, Amita. It was Kayin on the screen. For a late riser like Kayin, it was very early in the morning.

Why so early? Is something wrong? asked Amita, at her breakfast table. She took a bite of her toast.

I just. . . we just thought you should know; Hannes and I have decided to move in together.

The words hit Amita like a brick to the head. Admittedly, she had done little to keep Kayin close, but this news struck her harder than she expected it would. I'm happy for you, Kayin.

Thank you, Amita. We were both worried that you might not take the news well.

You were right, She paused to reign in her emotions. but I must admit, I offered you little incentive to be with me.

I'm sorry to hurt you, but on that point I agree. See you in the lab, later?

Sure, Kayin.

* * *

[Year 24, August 26, 1429hrs] Amita sat behind her intricately carved, solid oak desk and watched one of her company's clients, Gerald Blumfeld, as he walked into her spacious office and sat down in the plush chair opposite her.

Glancing nervously at the camera on the wall behind the desk, Mr. Blumfeld said, Thanks for squeezing in this meeting on such short notice; I'll get right to the point. Every year, it's getting more and more difficult for me to find workers to replace those who have the skills, but who are, quite frankly, getting too old for the job.

What are you proposing? asked Amita. She glanced at a viewing monitor of the nursery, to check on her daughter and her elderly nanny, Misha.

Mr. Blumfeld shifted uncomfortably in his seat before answering, Three of my oldest employees approached me with a request. They have asked for clones, in exchange for a fifteen year work contract. If I were to agree to this, and provide housing and subsistence in lieu of wages, this idea makes good financial sense.

Amita steepled her fingers in front of her and frowned. That sounds suspiciously like the same indentured servitude practiced throughout the colonies, over three-hundred years ago. This is technically illegal. I'm sure you know that.

Of course. I also know that you hold a lot of clout with The Board. I understand that, like myself, many of them are clients of yours. I'd like you to suggest to them that the laws in question be rewritten to allow for voluntary indenture. Just think of it; the work force will get younger and stronger, there will be fewer older people needing expensive medical care and drawing retirement, and everyone on The Board will profit from it.

Have you discussed this with any other business owners, Mr. Blumfeld? Amita studied the man's face as he relaxed, a bit.

After mopping his sweating brow with his handkerchief, Mr. Blumfeld said, Yes, several agree with me, but none are willing to go on record as I just have. He pointed to the camera. I did record my employees' request, if that will help.

Amita stood up and walked from behind her desk to her office door. Send me that information, and don't be surprised if The Board asks for your employees to testify to this, in front of them. Good day, Mr. Blumfeld. She opened that door.

Now more at ease, Mr. Blumfeld quickly stood up and exited. He nodded his head to her as he walked past. Thanks.

Sometime later, after The Indenture Act had been announced to the public, Amita and her hand servant walked from a clothing store and stepped into her self-driving limousine.

They found themselves forcefully ushered inside by a large, powerful man, who then sat next to Amita. No alarms, please. I'm just here to talk, but you must hear me out. This person had a strange, synthesized voice.

Amita could now see the small vibrator secured to their throat. The assassin wore latex facial appliances. A false face, passable from a distance.

Understanding that she and her hand servant would have been dead already, if death was the assassin's goal, Amita did not activate the vehicle security system.

After the vehicle pulled into traffic, Amita asked, Who hired you?

Now there's a funny story, said the assassin. Unknown to them, two different religious sects hired me to give you this message. I'm double dipping; I trust you won't tell them.

What is the message?

In short, they're not happy with you hijacking their souls. The mere concept of the poor being able to opt out of death is reducing the number of followers at an alarming rate. Your gig is bad for their business.

Hearing that last word placed her back into her comfort zone. Immediately settling behind her business face, Amita opened negotiations, Will they settle for a cut of the proceeds?

One has already considered a price. With a gloved hand, the assassin lay a card on her lap. The other didn't think to provide one. I'll pass on your offer.

The assassin then pressed the car's nearest call button and said, Drop me off, anywhere up here.

Once the assassin stepped out of the car and closed the door, Amita allowed herself brief eye contact with her hand servant; silent acknowledgment of their recently shared experience. She then pressed the call button and told the car, Home, by the fastest route.

That was the last time that Amita traveled anywhere without bodyguards.

* * *

It happened at Gloria's sixteenth birthday party. Nearly three-hundred guests were enjoying themselves at Amita's expense. Dozens of the hotel's indentured staff were in attendance; their stark white uniforms stood out among the crowd. Gloria mingled among the invited guests, as she had been taught to do. The young woman was now mature enough to begin cementing alliances with those who she would one day call her peers.

Now in her late fifties, Amita took a break from playing the role of gracious host, and stepped out onto the balcony at one end of the hotel's ballroom. She breathed in the cool night air as she watched Martin Boardman pass through the crowd, catch her gaze, and turn to approach her.

Standing at about 180cm tall, and younger looking than his claimed fifty-one years, this physically handsome yet always frumpy man remained something of an enigma. His DNA profile listed him as ‘of indeterminate Euro-African descent’. Unquestionably brilliant, and well spoken, Martin had applied for a minor lab technician position a few years after Amita's business first opened its doors.

He was something of a recluse, and always seemed to have the sniffles, hives, or some other allergy related symptom. The man often wore a medical mask and surgical gloves, and was wearing them tonight. Though he had been in her employ for nearly sixteen years, this was the first time in Amita's memory that Martin had accepted the general invitation that she always extended to her employees, for functions like this.

Walking next to Martin, and wearing no collar or leash, was a rather striking canine, a timber wolf, female.

Martin stopped in front of her, so did the wolf. Martin said, Amita, meet Willow.

Nonplussed, Amita replied, I haven't seen a live timber wolf since I was a child. I didn't know you had access to a genetics repository. Which one is it?

Martin shrugged his shoulders. You know I'd never give that information away. It's not for sale, either. Willow's proof that I have a source; that's enough for now.

Amita wouldn't expect another to willingly give away power like that, especially not this man, but one could always hope. She said, The fact that you're here at all is surprise enough, Martin. Though you've always been welcome to these parties, why are you here now?

Above his mask, Martin's eyes smiled. You've met Willow before. Remember the Yorkie pup, that little male among those first successful transfer subjects?

That was, what, six years ago? I thought I had you destroy those animals. Amita squeezed the handrail and looked out on the city skyline.

The wolf growled for a brief moment. Amita turned her head. Martin looked down and gently placed his hand on the wolf's head. Let the past stay in the past, Willow. He then turned to face Amita. I took him home, instead.

In disbelief at what she was hearing, Amita turned to face him and asked, Are you telling me that you successfully transferred that dog's mind into this body?!

Yes.

That's impossible. Except when using an exact clone, every attempt we've made at transferring personalities into another body has resulted in catastrophic failure. At best they became catatonic zombies.

Still smiling with his eyes, Martin pulled something from his pocket and handed it to her. It resembled a small, porous lime, constructed of titanium.

Amita asked, What's this?

While petting Willow on the head, Martin replied, I call it a ‘core’. It's a synthetic brain and interface; one that can be formatted to upload any personality, and adapt itself to any vertebrate body that it can fit into. Let's call these bodies ‘shells’, to avoid confusing them with direct clones. The core you hold is empty. Only I know how to build its interior and the required interfaces.

She asked, What's the capacity of this one?

One that size equates roughly to that of the human brain. Willow is smarter than any canine who has ever lived. Martin squatted down and looked into the wolf's eyes. Isn't that right, Willow?

Smiling back at Martin in canine fashion, Willow said, Ahh.

Standing up, Martin continued, "There is no reason why this technology can't be used for humans, as well. People can now choose what shell they want to wear, from all available human genome stock. They're no longer stuck with the one they started with.

I'm willing to share this technology with HBB. I only want two things from you.

While turning the sample core over in her hand, Amita murmured, If what you say is true, you've just become the most powerful person on Earth. She handed over the empty housing. What would those two things be?

Martin took the core and dropped it into a pocket of his wrinkled jacket. Full partnership for me and Hannes, and you will buy seats on The Board for both of us.

That's too much, Martin!

His face losing all expression, Martin said, I need your facilities and your contacts to get this ball rolling as quickly as possible, but we can and will do it without you if necessary.

With a wry look, Amita replied, So you're telling me that HBB can either ride this wave with you two as full partners, or drown in its passing.

Martin nodded his head. It's your choice. He then turned away and stepped back toward the party, and waved to Kayin and Hannes' adopted daughter, Phoebe; some twelve years old.

The dog glanced up at Amita's face, to meet her gaze for just a moment, then turned to join him.

Fuming, Amita stood leaning against the balcony guardrail. Her eyes bored into Martin's back, as they walked away and turned into the ballroom. The man even had the gall to stop and chat with Gloria, who smiled and exchanged pleasantries with him, as she petted that unnatural animal.

* * *

[Year 29, March 13, 1332hrs] During the Eighth Triennial Meeting of The Board, Amita addressed her fellow members, including Hannes and Martin, "I hope everyone enjoyed their lunch; I'll keep this brief.

As clearly lined out in this legislation proposal I drafted, all grown individuals, either not born as human and/or not residing in a human shell, shall be classified as ‘non-human’. Non-humans are to formally be granted only the rights of a pet; those of food, shelter, medical care, and engagement adequate to maintain good health. Non-humans may only exist in a subservient role, and they hold no legal rights.

Before Martin or Hannes could launch an argument, Amita added, Think of this as a preventative measure, people! Otherwise, the dominant role that humanity now holds, within the civilization that we built, will one day most certainly be challenged by one or more of these unnatural products of human creation!

The majority falling against Hannes', Martin's, and their allies' votes, The Board passed Amita's legislation in its entirety. As others congratulated Amita on their shared victory, her eyes followed Martin and Hannes, as they quietly exited the chamber.

* * *

[Year 32, November 24, 2123hrs] Shortly before bedtime, a call chimed, catching Amita in her parlor. The impressionist print above the gas fireplace faded to black to reveal a note in plain, white letters, Gloria online.

Amita activated the screen with her remote, and her daughter popped into view. Hello, Mother. Based on the view of the run down, old town street scene behind her, Gloria was not in Toronto.

Gloria, it's nice to see you. Where are you?

I'm outside the TechAdvance Building, here in old BC.

Amita asked, What's going on out that way. Anything I should know about?

Martin and Hannes have been showing me around the area. I've decided to buy some land nearby.

Why?

They've taken me through their new assembly plant; they're gearing up to expand output of their robotic servants line. Pollinator bot and hive sales alone take up most of their current plant's production capability.

Have you seen any numbers to back up your optimism?

Her enthusiasm undiminished, Gloria said, Mother, more than once you told me that, when it came to business, I could trust Martin's instincts. You said, and I quote, ‘He's made more of himself in less time than anyone else I know’.

Point well made. I'm listening; tell me your plan.

"First off, it's incorporated land; technically under corporate protection, but lies outside the local houses' spheres of influence. The old city limits sign along the highway reads a population of over ten-thousand; now it's only a store and two bars away from being a ghost town. The new plant and everything that comes with it will bring in thousands of jobs.

With the dirt being so cheap, I can't afford not to do it. All but a few of these houses are already empty. Martin and Hannes bought up the old downtown blocks when they founded TechAdvance, and set aside the old buildings for restoration. They've already leveled the burnt out, triangular building at the old highway junction. Crews are setting up to pour concrete. We'll use the space for farmers markets, and the like.

Amita knew of this place, but