“Consciousness Does Not Exist,” says Mehmet.
Jenna has just caught up to her lab partner as they glide along the main level-two conduit inside the Axle, his eyes betraying that his focus is not entirely fixed on his immediate environment. He is reading something on his lens.
“That sounds deep for this time of the day,” Jenna replies, by way of bidding him good morning.
“No, it’s the name of the lecture Maria Gonçalves is giving today. Really wish I could have seen that.”
“You’ll see it after you finish work. And you’ve seen a hundred. What’s special about this one?”
“I mean seen it live. She’s giving it in person.”
Okay, now she gets it.
“Seriously? Wow. When did that last happen?”
“When I was in diapers, probably.”
“Damn. Couldn’t you have swapped your shift?”
Mehmet fixes her with a withering look.
“Yeah, like that’s why I won’t be there.”
“Only the great and the good able to get tickets,” Jenna suggests.
“Tickets? You jest. Invite only. But on the plus side, they sent me my date for getting the new Gen-4 mesh. Four weeks today.”
“Way to go. I’m not even on the formal waiting list. I’m on the waiting list for the waiting list.”
“How come?”
“My own stupid fault. Dragged my heels because I wasn’t convinced it would make much of a difference, but that’s not what I’m hearing from the people who have got it.”
“No kidding,” Mehmet says, warming to the subject. “I was talking to Javier last week. He’s had his a month. He says the data retrieval is night and day’s difference. It’s like you just instantly know the information.”
“Yeah, I hear there’s far less of a watermarking effect. You don’t get that feeling like you’re peering over somebody’s shoulder at their worksheet. Guess I’m going to have to wait a while to experience it, though.”
They reach a six-way junction, both of them changing axis with a practised light tug on a handhold. Official protocol states that personnel are supposed to come to a complete stop before proceeding, but right now there’s nobody else around to bump into. That’s what she loves about working in the Axle. There never is. Compared to the wheels, it’s always practically deserted.
“Lateness appears to be a consistent theme for you at the moment,” Mehmet says. “I thought I was going to end up on my own here today.”
“Sorry. There was a problem on the static. They had a car out of commission, meaning a knock-on delay, and then the car I got from Faris was rammed.”
“Little flavour of home. When the static is busy like that, close your eyes and you could be on the subway train in New York City. Just need somebody to piss on the floor a few hours before, give it that authentic smell to recreate the full effect.”
Jenna yawns and stretches as they drift along the shaft.
“Late night?” Mehmet enquires.
“No, just feels like it’s been a long week. Late night tonight though. Gonna tear it up.”
“Got a date?”
“Only with one of those famous Sin Garden mojitos over on Mullane. Then maybe five more.”
Mehmet shakes his head, a wry smile on his face.
“What? You still think I’m crazy paying those prices?” she asks.
“No. I think it’s funny that somebody is getting a backhander purely for growing mint to supply those things.”
“Unauthorised botanical cultivation. Can’t imagine that’s what the Seguridad call a jump-seat offence.”
“No, but I’m sure some prick at the FNG would be able to tell you the exact expected yield in zucchini, or whatever, that they would otherwise be growing in that square footage of soil.”
“And what about your social life?” she asks. “I hear you’re switching phase on us.”
Mehmet looks bashful.
“Yeah, this guy I’ve been seeing. It’s getting serious. He’s on Meridian.”
“And you’re leaving all us sweet people on Atlantic for him? It really must be love.”
“I already got a lot of friends who are on Meridian phase. Been thinking of making a change for a while. This was just the final nudge, you scope me?”
Jenna fixes him with a look. He withers.
“Okay, it is love,” he admits.
“Knew it.”
“So what tests we running today?” he asks, conspicuously changing the subject.
Jenna smiles by way of acknowledgement. It will be a shame when he switches. She likes working with him.
The test chamber is now only a few metres ahead. The entrance is a bladed aperture at the end of the shaft, but inside it’s like a giant buckyball. She and Mehmet are both in synthetic pharmacology research, based out of Wheel Two. The firm they work for has a block booking on this chamber, studying the sustained effects of microgravity on certain artificial compounds.
“That’s weird,” she says, reading the security status on her lens. “The chamber is open.”
“It looks unambiguously closed to me,” Mehmet responds, confused.
“I mean it’s not locked. The team using it last can’t have closed up properly. See, these are the losers and wasters you’re about to throw your lot in with when you shift to Meridian.”
Without the security interface requesting an access code, they don’t have to stop outside. The aperture dilates in response to their proximity, so they can let their momentum carry them inside uninterrupted. Jenna executes a somersault to emphasise this fact, but as she spins upright again, she is tugged to a stop. Mehmet has grabbed the rim for purchase with one hand and taken hold of her shoulder with the other.
She looks at him by way of demanding an explanation.
Mehmet is staring into the vastness of the chamber, eyes wide: speechless, shivering, scared.
In zero-g, the gentle ballet of objects in motion can make anything look elegant.
Not this.
Glistening organs dance gently around each other in the bright expanse, like motes of dust in a shaft of sunlight. Intestines curl and twist between sections of limbs denuded of skin, muscle exposed like illustrations in an anatomy textbook. She sees an empty skull, the top sheared off. The brain has been removed, floating free amidst this carnal constellation.
Jenna is almost as much a geek as Mehmet for the work of the Neurosophy Foundation, but the one thing she never got is why they are pioneering memory erasure. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want that.
She does now.