Free The Dream Widow by Stephen Colegrove Page A

fine.”
    “If you need me, press that new symbol, the triangle,” said Jack.
    The static popped into silence and Reed shook his head.
    “The things I have to deal with ... Wilson, you’re in charge for the rest of the day.”
    He stood up and stuffed a portable viewscreen, stylus, and writing pad into a leather satchel.
    Wilson shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “But what about Jack?”
    “That’s where I’m going.”
     
    REED LAY FACE-DOWN on a treatment bed in the Tomb’s medical area. Spider-arms zipped across the ceiling above him in flurries of silver metal.
    “Whatever happens, stay awake,” said Jack’s voice. “And don’t move. You’re strapped down but just in case ...”
    “Fine.”
    A needle jabbed Reed’s neck. Tiny, high-speed drills whirred to life behind his head.
    “Now,” said Jack. “Nobody wants to hear the sausage being made. You’d probably like a little distraction at this point. I searched through the old databases down here and found an audio file you might enjoy.”
    “I thought all of that data was corrupted. Old formats that can’t be read anymore.”
    “The official records and most of the other stuff, yes, but I found a few audio files that I was able to convert. I’ll turn the speakers up.”
    The air crackled and a hiss filled the room.
    “Listen, Greg––that’s just how it works,” said a male baritone. “We can’t let any of the implanted team leave, especially the ones in the control group.”
    “You could have told them,” said another man. “People change their minds.”
    “I understand. Believe me, I understand. But until we discover what happened with Rogers and Fong, we can’t remove any implants. And I don’t want anyone walking out of the base with them. If the Chinese–”
    “All right, you don’t have to tell me.”
    “I think I do,” said the first man. “You don’t have the right attitude for this project, Greg. I’ve never thought that.”
    “In that case, it’s good thing I don’t give a damn what you think,” said the other man.
    “Fair point. I don’t have a doctorate from M.I.T.––a mouth-breather from Quantico like me shouldn’t get any respect from someone like you. But let’s kick our personal feelings to the curb, Greg. What you’re working on is greater than the Manhattan Project, the moon landing, or any other human achievement. It’s more important than the freedom of a few individuals. It’s more important than the freedom of anyone, you and me included.”
    “The ends do not justify–”
    “Don’t throw that self-righteous garbage at me,” said the first man. “We’re sending men and women to the stars, man! We’re expanding from this stinking mudball into the universe. This is the beginning of the greatest age of humanity. Implants to make us like superheroes and hiber-sleep chambers to cross the vast ocean of stars. If we found a tribe in the Amazon who’d built an orbital laser it would be less impressive than what’s about to happen.”
    “What’s about to happen ... you watch what’s about to happen. The control beds are getting bleed-through from the other test subjects. If we launch them into space and turn them into a pack of gibbering madmen, what’s that worth?”
    “It’s worth all the lives of our sweating, struggling ancestors,” said the first man, “Because this has to happen. Our destiny is out there, and not here.”
    The recording broke apart into white noise and stopped. Behind Reed’s head and out of sight, tiny drills whirred at high speed.
    “Is that it?” asked Reed.
    “I’ve got more,” said Jack. “Case studies from the control group those bozos were talking about. Also a few more on the reactor systems. Hope it doesn’t put you to sleep.”
    “No chance of that.”
     
    THE STUDENTS CHATTED in the corridor of the rectory as Wilson took them one-by-one to the treatment room. He connected diagnostic cables to each teenager and watched columns