Achilles choice

The honey-gold perfection of his body in motion, dismounting from the uneven parallel bars. The deceptively boyish manner which masked a startling clarity of thought. The dark blue of his eyes as he accepted the gold in memory of those who had died in its pursuit.

She remembered him as he stood four years ago, straight and tall before a Council-appointed panel, carefully explaining the mathematical model for worldwide air traffic control. He had revolutionized consumer aeronautics with that one talk. He had competed in four events, won three gold and one silver. She guessed that maybe fifty million female viewers would have had a baby with him then and there.

Why be sexist? Probably ten million men had considered it, too.

Donald Crawford had made it. He was one of the few whose gamble had paid off. Those fifteen to twenty per Olympiad were paraded before the public once or twice a year, with great ceremony.

Those who failed to make it at their first Olympiad smiled bravely and trained like fiends. Those who failed a second time..

Like Abner? presently died.

Chapter 3

“Test run,” Jillian said crisply. She slipped Beverly’s core into her desk console, and waited. And waited. Presently a distant voice said: “Jillian?”

“Right here, Beverly.”

“You just wait there a minute, sugar. I was in the shower.”

Making adjustments to the system, she meant. “I’ve got all the time you need,” Jillian said.

Holly was concentrating on her chessboard, but when Jillian broke away from the installation procedure, her roommate picked up the broken threads of their conversation. “So… where were we? Neurotransmitters?”

“Right.”

Holly ticked off names on her fingers. “Choline, acetylcholine, dopamine, all that crowd. The communications brigade. The thing you’ve gotta understand is that your survival is based on staying balanced between extreme states. It’s a weird equilibrium-“

“Just a minute. I’m starting to get something here.”

The visual field flickered, and Jillian was looking at her own face. The mirror-Jillian’s skin dissolved, leaving a glowing skull. Bone followed, until a disembodied brain bobbled in the middle of the field. A chair appeared beneath it, tilted onto two legs. The brain balanced on top of the chair. Incandescently brown eyes popped from the ends of the optic nerves.

“Beverly, that’s disgusting.”

“But roughly accurate,” Holly chuckled. “She’s trying. You must have a fun Void.”

“I’ll wring her neck. Anyway, you were saying?”

“Boost tinkers with the balance, makes your brain select performance over health.”

The field changed. The brain grew stork legs, began jumping through circus hoops. The hoops caught fire, and calliope music began to play in the background.

“I think Beverly is fully installed,” Jillian said wryly.

“Have her access the files on Boost.”

“All right. Test, Beverly. I need effects of Boost on the human nervous system.”

The field pulsed with blue fog. “Long and short term?” her Simulacrum’s voice asked.

“Yep.”

“Multiphasic. Most noticeably a massive release of androgenic growth hormones. This effect takes months.” As Beverly spoke, more crispness and personality filled her voice.

“Expect an increase in aggression and in coordination. There are mental effects. Clarity and speed of thought increased up to fifty-two percent. An average of twenty-five percent.”

“Thanks, Bev. That’s all for now.”

Jillian shut the unit down.

She scanned the room, and thought it small but comfortable. All of her clothing was stored away, chairs and tables rearranged, and it was starting to feel like home. With Beverly now installed, Jillian felt she was ready.

“What are you thinking?” Holly asked.

“I don’t know. Boost, maybe. It sounds so good.”

“And costs so much. For about eight years you’re a superman. It’s probably twice as good as any other ergonometric technique. Or any combination of techniques, for that matter. Then, surprise! Your own body eats you.”

“But you Boosted anyway, Holly.”

“Yeah, but I’m looking for loopholes. It’s a mug’s game for the rest of you. Cancer, epilepsy, acromegaly. You get just two chances to go for gold, Jillian. Achilles didn’t get much of a choice.”

Holly returned to her chess game. Jillian sank down into her chair, and listened to her thoughts for a minute. She had not yet Boosted. She’d have to choose soon.

The tale was told to three billion TV sets during every Olympiad. The gods had offered Achilles a short, glorious life, or. a long dull one. He chose glory.

Behind her, Holly screamed “Mate!”

While she immersed herself in her morning workout, Jillian watched the others in the gym. Their bodies had that telltale Boosted angularity. Jillian walked out onto the mat, her new judo gi crisp and just a little scratchy against her skin. Her black belt was knotted carefully, the white threads pale beneath the frayed surface. A worn black belt implied that the practitioner was more experienced.