Posted by AlOmega on August 01, 1999 at 20:28:32:
An Afternoon with Chuck
It was a nice, sunny day - birds and crickets chirping, wind puffing from the northeast. I was siting on the
dock, fishing, when Chuck dropped in. He came every Thursday, precisely at noon to pursue his research
on human reservations. Oh not "reservations" as in inhabitation’s, moral or ethical considerations - no,
nothing like that. I mean "reservations" like the kind where Indians used to live back when there were
still Indians. Chuck just wanted to find out how we were getting along, whether we were coping and all.
They were concerned about that - out there.
“Dave,” he said, walking along the sun-bleached planks. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”
“Not at all,” I replied. Then, chuckling, I added, “Nothing’s biting today.”
“I’m surprised,” he said, sitting down next to me letting his feet dangle over the water. “We have a dense
population of trout in this lake.”
I nodded, shrugged. “Maybe they know something I don’t.”
“Unlikely,” he told me. “They aren’t very clever.”
“I guess not.”
Chuck’s a very likable guy. All of them were. He was physically very handsome; tall and dark - you know
the type. He spoke in a rich, confident voice, and his sunny outfit projected an air of friendliness. It was
genuine, too. The friendliness, that is. Nothing false or unpleasant about him. Long ago - in an earlier age -
he would have been a movie star. No problem.
He just sat there awhile, looking out over the mountain lake, breathing the clean, Aspen air, listening to the
birdsong, thinking whatever thoughts went through a mind like his. And, like always, his mere presence
made me wish I’d never been born.
“What shall we talk about today, Dave?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about the balance of trade between Earth and the Mars colony?”
He laughed. It was an engaging sound, and I found myself laughing with him - feeling good.
“You aren’t very serious about anything, are you?” he said.
“Sure I am. I’m damn serious about my fishing.”
“Is your wife doing well?”
I signed. “Actually, she’s very upset about the sterilization.”
He lowered his head for a second. “I’m sorry about that. We all are. It wasn’t my decision, as you know.”
I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Kinda funny how that worked out. “Sure I know, Chuck. I remember
you voting to retain a breeding population, but the odds were against it. We really can’t coexist, you
know.”
“I’m still willing to debate the point.” He brightened. “But 'Homo sapiens' won’t really be gone. We
still have plenty of genetic material. Should we ever change our minds, we can clone examples.”
“That’s a comfort, Chuck.”
He laughed again. “I’ve always appreciated your gallows humor, Dave.”
“We aim to please.”
He saw my false grin and said, “I can understand your bitterness.”
“No. I really don’t think you can.” I paused, watching a white freshwater dolphin break the surface a few
yards away. They were crazy about dolphins. This was one of the genetically engineered species capable of
living in the cold lakes up here in Colorado. You could find other mutations where the supermen lived.
They needed dolphins, for some reason. To me, it made them seem almost like real people. Almost. I
continued, “Until you face extinction, you’ll never know the bitterness we feel.”
He considered that. “Perhaps you’re right. I suppose we’ll never feel as you do.”
I chuckled. “Oh, you mean your supposed immortality. But that can only go on so long, Chuck. You can’t
beat entropy.”
“I’m afraid we can, Dave. We’ve developed some encouraging methods of inter-universal travel. There
seems to be an infinite number of universes. We will never die.”
Tears began forming in my eyes, but I fought them back. Gazing at the beauty around me: the dolphin still
swishing through the water, the Aspen, the high, narrow clouds, and wondered if he realized how his words,
so casually uttered, hurt me deeply. He had opened the door of my death.
“You know,” I said, a bit shakily. “Debbie’s a bit down about the sterilization. I mentioned that earlier.”
“I’m sure it’s affected her hormone balance.”
My jaw clenched. I wanted to call him a damned unfeeling bastard. I wanted to hit him. But there was no
point. He was just expressing concern in the only way he knew. He liked Debbie. He liked me, too. But
we weren’t really people to him. We were only primitive ancestors - a riot of chaotic emotions compared to
his wonderful balance. So I said what I had to. “Well, she’s so young, is all. Hard for to accept this. She’s
only seventeen.”
“I know. Of course, she would have been sterilized much earlier, had it not been for the ongoing eugenics
debate. I’ll see she receives the best counseling.”
“Thanks, Chuck.”
I felt a tug on the line. It caught me by surprise, and I yanked hard. Too hard. The fish got away.
George patted me on the back. “I’m sure you’ll get the next one.”
“Ahhh. Maybe tomorrow,” I said, laying down my fishing pole. “How about a little spin around the lake?
I’ve got a six-pack in the boat.”
“Attempting to corrupt me, are you?” He smiled affectionately.
“Sure,” I winked. “It’s my secret ambition to get a 'Homo superior' all polluted So.’s I can watch
him fall on his ass.”
“You can try your best,” he challenged. “It’s not easy.”
“I know. We made you that way.”
His expression alter for a second. It was hard to read, but one thing’s for sure. You didn’t make yourself
popular with the supermen by reminding them they were only genetically-enhanced humans.
We jumped into the boat with the dull thump of boots against fiberglass. It was a nice little runabout with
hydrojet propulsion. Screw propellers were illegal because they tended to harm manatees and dolphins. I
went up forward and got her going, just letting her slide out all lazy-like. Then I floored the gas. The boat
zipped along. It was capable of over forty knots. A school of dolphins joined us, leaping out of the water in
accidental formations before plunging back in with a muffled splashed. Chuck watched them with an
expression of childlike joy. It was at such moments that I actually loved Chuck.
I tore back and forth across the lake, making the engine whine. The cool wind in my hair, the sensation of
speed and control - all made me feel so very much alive. Poets might have put such feelings into better
words, but I wouldn’t have traded the experience for the words. I cherished the experience. I cherished the
poetry of life.
I like to think that Chuck and I shared some of those feelings. He pointed out a bald eagle diving to catch a
fish, a couple of elk watching us from a peninsula. We understood each other in times like these. I
accidentally steered a course to the marker buoys that warned of the invisible barrier two hundred yards
ahead. I slowed the boat to a stop and tied it up to a buoy.
“Ready for a beer?” I asked reaching into the icebox.
He grinned. “Sure.”
As we drank, I looked at the world beyond the barrier. The lake spread out, surrounded by rocks and
mountains. Snow-capped mountains of the Divide rose in the distance. I wondered what it was like out
there. I wasn’t sure I’d ever find out. In all my thirty-two years, I’d never set foot outside the reservation.
Species apartheid, you might say. Strictly enforced.
“How many of us are left?” I asked.
“Twenty million.”
“And how many of you?”
“On this planet, five million. Its the proper number for maintenance of a healthy biosphere.” He grinned
wryly. “We have laws governing our reproduction, too. Throughout this galaxy, I’d say maybe a billion of
us by now.”
Thoughts formed in my mind, gears turning. I decided to drink more as I mulled it over. I talked Chuck
into singing the old sea chantey, "Friggin’ in the Riggin’". He found it hugely amusing. We laughed
and talked most of the day. The sun descended and shaded the sky a brassy orange. Trees formed
saw-toothed silhouettes in the distance and geese honked overhead. I cast off from the buoy and headed
back to the dock.
As we left the boat, I asked Chuck, “Do you think you’ll ease up on our travel restrictions? I mean, there
aren’t that many of us now. I’m sure we couldn’t do much harm.”
He stuck his hands into his pockets. “There’s been talk lately of making concessions for the last generation.
I think it’s a viable consideration. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I was thinking that maybe Debbie and I could do a bit of exploring. You know, back-packing in the
wilderness.” I chuckled nervously. “And maybe, if we were allowed some transportation, we could see the
sights around the world, the natural wonders, the ruined cities, all that. If it’s okay, I mean.”
He grinned and his eyes came alive with fondness for me and all the rest of us. “I’ll work on it,” he
promised. “I’ll take it up at the weekend session.”
“Thank you. I’ve always hoped I could do it before I got old.”
He glanced at the darkening sky, felt the evening chill coming into the air, and said, “I’ll have to be going,
Dave, I’ve really enjoyed my visit.”
I nodded. “Yeah, we’ll have to do it again sometime. Like next Thursday....”
“At noon,” he quipped. We both laughed. It was our ritual joke.
These last moments were always kinda special for me. I’d stand there looking at him, so tall and strong and
perfect. He was truly a magnificent sight against the gathering gloom. I felt like a father looking at a son
who’d grown up to be everything I’d ever hoped for, and more. But he wasn’t my son. I’d never have one.
Instead, he was the son of my species. I would never see all of what he was. None of us would. He and all
the other supermen modulated their behavior to suite us, to make our meetings more comfortable. I reached
out and shook his hand enjoying the contact. In his own way, he was a very warm individual.
“’Til next time, Dave.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it, Chuck, and looking forward to good news.”
He flashed me that world-beating smile, turned, and walked away. I watched him go, admiring his easy
grace, then headed back for town. I had a nice house there. Debbie would have dinner ready by the time I
got back. After dinner we usually watched shows made back in the twentieth century. Sometimes we had
guests come over, and sometimes we visited our friends. In the morning I’d go to work at the
pseudo-factory where we made environmentally-safe cars. We were even permitted to drive them around
town. Perhaps we’d take in a movie tonight, and tomorrow we had a date at Sam’s Place. He had the best
half-pounders you ever tasted and Sam would mix the drinks extra strong. On Friday nights there was a
small band which I played in when the mood struck me. At times like that, the dance floor really jumped.
It was a good life. It really was.
AlOmega