Webster called them back to the table for the drinks.
This time Falcon sat down, or at least folded down his undercarriage.
Dhoni said in a rush, “I know there’s every chance I won’t see you again any time soon, Commander—”
“Howard.”
“Howard. I do recall you got out of that clinic as fast as you could—how did Doctor Bignall put it? ‘Like a delinquent kid who’s finally old enough to steal a car.’”
Webster barked laughter. “That’s you, Howard.”
“But I would urge you to come in for regular checks, refurbs and upgrades to your prosthetics—and medical attention to your human core. But while we’re here,” she said doggedly, “while I have the chance, I want to show you a new option.” She patted the box. “This is a virtual reality extensor kit. While we’re here it’s interfaced to the ship’s Bosun and to the global net.” She took out two metal discs, each the size of a new cent. She handed one each to Webster and Falcon.
“Neural jacks,” Falcon said.
“You got it,” Webster said. His own hand hovered at the back of his neck.
“You, Geoff? You’ve got one of these sockets? Virtual reality is for kids’ games or training simulators.”
“Like hell it is. I’d have no idea what my kids and grandkids spend their time doing without this hole in my neck. Besides, half the world’s business is done virtually now. Even my Bureau’s. And, unlike you, I always treat myself to upgrades.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked. And you never told me you have an interface. Surgeons installed it while they were hacking your brain stem, did they?”
“It was a necessary component of my treatment. The destruction of my spinal cord—”
“That was twelve years ago—”
“It needs upgrading,” Dhoni said quickly. “But this smart new kit is downward-compatible.”
Falcon stared at the bright coin. “Virtual reality? What’s the point?”
Webster leaned forward. “Look, Howard. I think I see what the doctor’s getting at. We live in a good age. The world’s at peace. No borders, no wars, and we’re driving towards our goals of eliminating hunger, want, disease—”
“So what? And why the VR jack?”
“Because, in this nascent utopia, there’s no place for you,” Webster said brutally. “That’s what you think, don’t you?”
“Well, it’s true. I’m unique.”
“That can’t be changed. The medics saved your life, Howard, but in a radically experimental way. You were a one-off. And as the Earth recovers from the depredation of the past, people are becoming more—conservative. Machinery is fine, but it has to be unobtrusive.
“If your accident happened now, you wouldn’t be treated the same way. You’d be kept on ice until biological replacements could be prepared for your broken body parts. I’m talking stem-cell treatments, even whole lower brain and spinal cord transplants. They’d have made you human again. Machines are machines, to be kept separate from humanity.”
“And so I’m the only true cyborg. The only living symbiosis of man and machine.”
“Hope tells me there’s nothing that can be done to change that for you now, physically.”
Dhoni seemed about to reach for Falcon’s hand, but she pulled back. “But there are other options.”
“This, you mean? To escape into artificiality?”
Webster shook his head. “There are whole virtual communities, Howard. And once you’re in there you can be fully human again. You can do things—well, hell, all things you can’t do now. Run, laugh, cry—make love—”
“It’s the real world for me, Doctor Dhoni. That, or give me an off switch.”
Hope flinched.
Webster said, “Damn you, Falcon.”
Falcon rolled back from the table, straightened up, and left.
* * * *
When he’d gone, Dhoni said, “I suppose I should apologise. I didn’t mean to spoil the evening.”
Webster’s look was rueful. “Oh, we were making a fine job of that by ourselves. But I guess a virtual substitute for life was never going to be enough for a man like Howard Falcon . . . ‘Some other time.’”
“I’m sorry?”
“That’s what he said, as he was about to leave Jupiter. He looked over at the Great Red Spot—the mission planners ensured he had stayed well away from that—and he said, “Some other time.” The control team up at Jupiter V heard it clearly. It’s the kind of line you stick on a T-shirt . . .
“But in a way he has a point. About Jupiter anyhow. His mission in the Kon-Tiki was heroic, but he only scratched the surface. The planet’s full of structure—we think. Literally anything might be found down there. Jupiter is an ocean of mystery. And since he got back from Jupiter he’s already been seeking funding for follow-up missions. One reason he’s showing his face here, I think.”
Dhoni nodded. “But all this is a denial of his personal reality. How can we help him?”
“Damned if I know. Damned if I care, right now.”