Free Infoquake by David Louis Edelman Page A

one of the classic moves of
natural law: the jump, a movement humanity had worked out through
a hundred thousand years of constant iteration. Yet the program bore
the indelible signatures of an artificial product: the curl of the toes at
mid-leap, the triumphant arching of the back, the pleasing whistle
where no whistle would otherwise exist. The sky drew nearer and
nearer, the ground now but a distant memory. Breaking free of the redwoods was already a foregone conclusion, and Natch had set his sights
on still loftier goals. Jump 225 would take him not only above the redwoods, but up into the clouds and out of natural law altogether. He
would achieve freedom from the tedious rules that had governed
human existence since the beginning of time. Down would no longer
follow up. Autumn would no longer follow summer. Death would no
longer follow life. The jump 225 program would accomplish all this,
and more.
    Then, just when his straining fingertips struggled for purchase on
the twigs hanging off the highest branches-when he could feel the
feathery touch of the leaves-when he had just gotten his first whiff of
pure, clean, unspoiled sky-the inevitable descent began.
    Natch could see himself falling in slow motion, as if he were
looking down from the pinnacle of the tallest redwood. He could see
his arms flailing and feel his lungs bursting every second of the way
down. The whistle of the jump had become the screech of gravity's
avenging angel. What mere seconds ago had been a triumphant jump
now turned into a horrible, agonizing Fall. How could he have been so
blind? How could he not have seen this?
    This was worse than not having jumped in the first place: the force of the impact would surely crush him, flatten him, destroy him. And
still he accelerated. Falling so fast now that he would actually crash
through the ground, down through the pulverizing rock, down to the
center of the earth, where nothing could ever rise again. He yelled his
defiance. He shook his fists. He railed at the trees, reaching out in a
vain effort to pull them down with him.

    A split-second before impact, Natch awoke.

2
THE SHORTEST
INITIATION

    Natch's forefather Hundible was an acquaintance of Sheldon Surina
and one of the earliest investors in bio/logics. He was a gambler, a
teller of tall tales, a drifter of unknown origin and unsavory character.
    But above all else, Hundible was a poor financial planner. His getrich-quick schemes sank like leaky boats, leaving him constantly
floundering in a sea of fathomless debt. Where he found the money to
invest in bio/logics, no one knew. Human biological programming
seemed an unlikely venture for Hundible; Surina himself, with his
prudish ways and supercilious attitude, seemed an unlikely partner.
Naturally, everyone assumed this new discipline was destined to fail.
    Yet it was Hundible who had the last laugh. His partner, the
skinny Indian tinkerer with the big nose, went on to revitalize science
and revolutionize history. The gambler's modest investment ballooned
a thousandfold and generated a large fortune. Hundible retired at the
seasoned age of thirty-three, took a high-society companion, and slid
contentedly out of history. If he had any interest in the great flowering
of science that his investment helped bring to fruition, there was no
record of it.
    Hundible eventually passed on. His wealth endured, for a while.
    Natch's ancestor was not the only one to stumble serendipitously
onto Surina riches. A host of rogues, early adopters, and cutting-edge
investors were handsomely rewarded for their early backing of
bio/logics. Lavish mansions and villas sprouted up around the globe to
serve their owners' whims-places where they could escape the harsh
moral strictures that had kept order since the Autonomous Revolt. The
bio/logic entrepreneurs deliberately sought cities that had largely
escaped the havoc of the Revolt: Omaha, Melbourne, Shenandoah,
Madrid, Cape