The Immortality Game

The robot whisked the bag away and headed for the tarmac. Marcus followed at a leisurely pace. As he stepped into the cool darkness outside, he saw two floodlights illuminating a tall rocket half a kilometer away. A queasy feeling gripped his stomach as he thought of blasting off in that tin can and speeding halfway around the globe in less than two hours. He’d never ridden in a rocket, but he had viewed enough launches on the Web—and even simulated one once—to know that he wouldn’t enjoy this experience.

He looked at the small car waiting to take him to the rocket and decided to walk instead. Maybe the cool air will settle my stomach.

«Come to the capital for the first time and I don’t even get to see it,» he muttered to his father.

«You can see it on the way home.»

Marcus scowled. «If I get to come home.»

«How did I ever raise such a pessimist?»

«By being smarter and more famous than I could ever hope to be, and then dying just as I was beginning to think I could live with that.»

«Son, I’m sorry I left you. I really never meant to. Look at you. You haven’t set foot outside in ages. Stop a moment and look at the stars.»

«How do you know what I see?»

«You have any idea how many cameras there are in this city? I can extrapolate a lot from the views I get. I can’t get a good look at the sky, but I can tell the stars are out.»

Marcus stopped and examined the sky. It really was beautiful. Other than the slight glow of the city to the north, the sky was clear, aglow with millions of diamond pinpricks.

«You see the big one?»

«Can’t miss it.» A point of light bigger than any of the stars glowed at the very apex of the night sky. «The Plymouth?»

«Yep. They put it in orbit directly above the city so they could always see their future.»

Marcus had seen the generation ships a few times, sometimes from the window of his apartment and others using the Web. A dozen years ago, the Chinese had started the first one after the Hubble-Yi VII telescope had given a 97.8% certainty that a planet twenty-three light-years from Earth was habitable. The President of America West, Mormon trillionaire Trev Johnson, was the primary stakeholder of the second. Though construction began less than eight years ago, it was rumored that it might be ready to go before the Chinese ship. Marcus shuddered at the very thought of spending a lifetime trapped on a ship in the vague hope that one’s descendants might find a literal New World on the other end. And even if one ship did manage to colonize New Eden, as the Mormons were calling the planet, what would happen if the Chinese ship also survived the trip?

«Amazing how something so pretty can also be frightening,» Marcus said, and began walking toward the rocket again.

«Frightening? I’m excited to see the new world. I hope it will be suitable for humans.»

«You going to sneak aboard somehow?»

«I keep trying. They don’t leave connections open long enough for me to get all my data through, so I’ve taken to slipping myself through in modules.»

«Whatever makes you happy, as long as you don’t try to take me along with you.»

«You’re not Mormon, Marcus.»

«I’m not a diplomat either, Papa.»

Moscow

Sunday, June 8, 2138

11:25 a.m. MSK

Zoya rolled when she hit the ground, but her right elbow hit too hard, sending pain lancing through her arm. The exercise sims she used nearly every day kept her in pretty decent shape, but she wasn’t prepared for something like this. Adrenaline pounded in her head as she regained her feet and took off running toward the parking lot exit. She cradled her elbow with her left hand, hoping it wasn’t badly injured.

She heard a shout, and over her shoulder she saw one of the cops run out of the entrance door of her apartment block. Zoya fixed her eyes on the old Prospekt Andropova ahead and ran as fast as she could. Hardly anyone used ground cars anymore, so she easily avoided the few big supply haulers and buses as she crossed the street. When she reached the other side, she risked a look back again. The cop was chasing her, though he was slower than she was, but she saw the other cop and the short mobster jumping into their vehicles behind him. Damn! You won’t have much time now. Which way?

To the right was the refugee camp at Kolomenskoe, and left was the old metro station. The metro offered the best chance to get away from the vehicles, so she ran that way.

She focused on the entrance to the metro, steadfastly refusing to look back over her shoulder as she ran. There was a tingling in her spine, and she imagined one of the sky cycles or the police cruiser swooping by to cut her off at any moment.