Dream Drive Ch. 06

"We don't know that for sure," Vuntha said. "Boonta has certainly enlisted Katran's aid, which is an obstacle, but he wouldn't go as far as cheating."

"Bull," Jackson said.

"Jackson, with respect, I know Boonta better than you."

"Did you think he would try to muscle in on Drana?"

Vuntha's lips shrank. He shook his head. "I did not. But if he has feelings for her, then he presents competition that I must overcome with dignity. I cannot fault him for thinking her a worthy wife. I think the same thing."

"Vuntha, it's not about Drana." Jackson put an arm on Vuntha's shoulder and drew close. He glanced around them, checking for privacy. They were near the creek, a few dozen meters from the edge of the camp's tents. A few people milled about the tipis, but none were close enough to hear or see the equipment. Jackson looked back at his friend. "I haven't told anyone this, not even Shaka. Not yet, anyway."

Vuntha lowered his head, and his voice. "...what? What is it?"

"Boonta tried to rape Chaki."

Vuntha's eyes widened. He frowned, shook his head. "What? No. That can't be."

"I pulled him off her myself," Jackson said. "Ask Chaki if you want. She'll get why I told you."

"I just..." Vuntha took a deep breath. "What is wrong with Boonta?"

"Jealousy can do strange things to people, I guess," Jackson said. "I dunno. I'm not good with relationship stuff. But knowing he's got the motivation means I know he'll cheat." Jackson gestured to the duffle bag. "As far as I'm concerned, that opens the playing field up real wide. Anything goes."

"...I see," Vuntha said. "You want revenge."

"I didn't want to get involved," Jackson said, "but since he's forcing me into it, I might as well give him a serious ass-kicking. You in?"

Vuntha nodded. "I am in."

"That's what I wanted to hear." Jackson knelt down and dug for the jump trainers. "I want to make sure we've got these adjusted right."

"...er...what, exactly?"

Jackson waved his hand. "Give me your foot."

Vuntha hesitated a moment, then extended his foot. Jackson strapped the thin metal plates under the arc of Vuntha's sole and up the back of his ankle. When it was set, it looked like a cross between a flat sandal and a small shock absorber. "Good, that fits." Jackson did the same with the other foot. "Alright, give it a whirl."

"Huh?"

"Try jumping," Jackson said.

Vuntha went on his toes and jumped. He sprang into the air a few inches off the ground. He landed, paused; and then a bright grin spread over his face. He bent his knees and jumped again.

This time, he flew, easily three or four feet. He landed with catlike grace, the shocks taking the weight of his fall, and bounced again, still higher. "Whoa!" He flailed a bit, and his feet struck the ground hard. The trainers whirred as they balanced him, and he ended up crouched, knees bent, arms out. He stood straight. "This is incredible. I thought I was going to fall, and they just sort of..."

"They'll help you run faster, too," Jackson said. "Limited battery power, though, so you won't be able to use them like that for long. Better to save it for jumps, or a burst of speed. You can turn it off and on."

"Do I use your computing?" Vuntha asked.

Jackson handed him a small remote and instructed him in the controls. "Keep that in your pocket." Jackson looked at his feet. "I noticed you guys seem to switch out of shoes pretty frequently. Just make sure you wear moccasins over the metal if you've got them on. They wouldn't understand how it worked, but they'd make the connection."

"I understand. I'll do that."

Jackson kept digging. He left the hunting rifle, the nanocomposite body armor, and the pepper spray in the bag but drew out a few gemstones. It had taken most of the money he'd saved up to buy them all, but he didn't really care about money anymore.

"Where did you find all those?" Vuntha asked. "Are they common where you are from?"

"No. But because they're rare, people make a profession of digging them up and selling them."

"That one is..." Vuntha pointed at a gold ring set with a sparkling diamond. "Demons and dead suns, it's as big as a Gem-Flower. Shaka could store enough essence to heal three sick people!"

"Heh." Jackson lifted it up. The crystal sparkled in the light of the campfires. "Not bad, right?"

"Jackson, Vuntha!" Chaki's voice drifted over to them. Jackson shoved the ring in his pocket. Vuntha gave him a wink and a nod. In a few moments, she was there. "Shaka told me you two were conspiring against Boonta's latest idiocy. What is -" Her eyes flicked to Jackson's lighted foldout, the spiderbot, the other scattered gemstones, and the duffle bag. "What's going on?"

Vuntha's words came with a certain vengeful relish. "We are planning for the games."

"Now you're getting it," Jackson said. He reached into the duffle bag again. He felt like an old-fashioned magician, going into a top hat and pulling out rabbits. He withdrew two books. "These are for you, Chaki."

Chaki's face lit up like fireworks when she saw A Brief History of Time. She took up both the books. "This other one...mathematics! For beginners! Jackson, thank you!"

Jackson rubbed the back of his neck. "Sure."

Chaki stepped up to him and kissed him, a brief nip on the lips. "I shall have to make this gift up to you."

Jackson idly rubbed her arm. He wanted more than that, but Shaka seemed to be summoned like an angry spirit every time he tried to be close with Chaki. "Don't worry about it."

Chaki gave him a slow smile. "I won't." She leaned a bit closer and whispered so that Vuntha couldn't hear. "I'll just let you wonder about all the things I could do to you."

Jackson clenched his jaw and started wondering.

"Kissing in public without a chaperone?" Malaki's voice asked. "Chaki, you're really getting out of hand."

Jackson directed the spiderbot to tuck itself under the duffle bag and snapped his foldout shut. He didn't want to give away any of his surprises. They all turned to face three unwanted guests - Boonta, Katran, and Malaki.

Chaki stormed forward, moving to meet them halfway. Jackson and Vuntha exchanged a look and stayed close behind her. "Boonta!" Chaki shouted. "You've been avoiding me all evening. What do you think you have done?!"

"I think," Boonta said, "I have proposed to your friend, Drana."

"Indeed you have. Now tell me why I should not rip your throat out with my bare hands!"

"Open threats, too?" Malaki asked. "Have you abandoned every shred of propriety?"

Vuntha snorted. "You walk with Boonta, and you lecture Chaki on propriety? Shame on you, Malaki."

Katran looked at Vuntha. "Do not speak to her like that."

"Katran, you have my respect," Vuntha said, "so I will hold my peace. Do not expect the same for others."

"Others are not my concern," Katran said. The lanky warrior waved a hand dismissively. "Just keep your wagging tongue from my wife-to-be."

"Boonta," Chaki said, "you are toying with Drana for your own selfish ends. If you wish to fight Jackson, challenge him to a duel with the auspices of the spirit guides at the Meet. Do not drag others through your own selfish mud."

Boonta folded his forearms together. "You rejected me, Chaki. You have no right to command me to do anything."

"I would hope that common sense would be command enough!"

"It is," Boonta said. "Drana has always stood in your shadow. You have never seen it, have you? The spirit guide's apprentice, Chaki. Favored by all the women of the tribe as a model for the younger girls. An adept dancer. Popular with her friends, accomplished in her skills, and even trained to hunt alongside the men, something few women ever do. Wonderful, beautiful, perfect Chaki."

"What are you getting at?" Chaki said.

Boonta shrugged. "I was swept up in it as well. Have you ever considered for a moment how hard it is to be the best friend of an infallible perfectionist? Of course not - you aren't the friend. You never saw that side of Drana, did you? Perhaps you were too busy, buried under the heaps of praise."

Chaki's hand brushed her hair back. She shook her head. "Drana and I - we are not like that."

"Is that so?" Malaki said. "Drana herself expressed disbelief you had turned down Boonta, didn't she? I remember her saying it myself. Frankly, I agreed with her. Your indecision is Drana's opportunity. And who are you to speak, after you rejected him?"

"Your rumors and speculation will not shake our friendship," Chaki said. She looked at Boonta. "And you will not succeed."

"I am glad you rejected me." Boonta spread his arms wide. He stared at Chaki, his brown eyes almost black in the dark. "Your rebuff granted me the good fortune of showing me the bright star hidden in your shadow. Drana gave my proposal a cautious and wise answer. I will prove my valor in the games, and we will be wed. I'm not sure what arrogance of yours leads you to think that you may interject yourself between us. Our relationship is our business." Boonta's stare turned into a smug look. "Or perhaps, now that it is beyond reach, you are coming to a new appreciation of that which you so haughtily disregarded?"

"I would rather crawl on the ground and consume slugs for the rest of my life than have any further relationship with you, Boonta, son of Yukatan," Chaki said. "Does that make my appreciation clear?

Boonta's lips drew back over his teeth. He stepped forward. Jackson angled himself between Boonta and Chaki.

Boonta pivoted towards him, but Katran grabbed his shoulder. "Boonta," he said, "leave it for the games. I think Jackson's participation is assured."

"You're damn fucking right," Jackson said.

"Yes, don't waste your energy," Malaki said to Boonta. "A slut like Chaki doesn't deserve the effort."

"What did you call me?" Chaki hissed.

"You heard me. Kissing Jackson without a chaperone?"

"Spare me. It was but a warm greeting."

"Certainly there is some leeway," Malaki said, "but you do it as a habit. You follow him around like a dog without a master. And Jackson is hardly blameless. You two are acting like animals in heat. Everyone is talking about it."

Chaki's hands were clenched into fists; her shoulders were drawn up, tense. "I have the strangest feeling," she said, "that Malaki is doing most of the talking."

"Well, perhaps you're right." Malaki put a hand to her mouth and chuckled. "After that little argument that woke a third of the camp, I suppose your marriage is a little...uncertain, isn't it? All that public affection and not a single promise to show for it. You bring shame to your family."

Chaki's lips worked. Her eyes scanned the ground. She said nothing.

Jackson put a hand on Chaki's shoulder. "Malaki, what the hell are you talking about?"

Malaki frowned. "What?"

"Chaki and I are getting married at the mountain," Jackson said. "Right, Chaki?"

Chaki's head slowly came up. Jackson met her gaze. Chaki's eyes shimmered a bit. A weak smiled fluttered over her face.

Her bond was flared.

Her coals were burning. There was a warmth Jackson had never felt before radiating out from her. It bathed him like starlight. The rest of the world seemed to blur, and it was just him, and her, standing alone, sharing a singular moment.

The smile came to his face unbidden. He wrapped his arm the rest of the way around her shoulders. "What?" he asked. "You look surprised about something."

Chaki's lips shifted a bit. She opened her mouth, shook her head slightly, and then closed it. No words.

He didn't need to hear them. He could feel them.

Jackson looked back at Boonta. "Oh, flatface, you're still here? Take your friends and beat it. We're busy."

"Jackson Vedalt," Boonta said. "I am going to crush you in the games. Mark that well."

"Uh-huh."

Vuntha stepped forward and pointed at Boonta. "Boonta," Vuntha said, "I have never had a quarrel with you, but today, that has changed. You have treated my friends with dishonor for the sake of satisfying some idiotic selfishness. I thought better of you." Vuntha shook his head. "I will not allow it to pass without challenge. You will have to depend well on Katran to deal with Jackson in the games, because I will occupy all of your attention, and then some. I promise you that."

"I will crush you, too," Boonta said, "if you stand in my path. And then I'll make good on my promise to Drana while you watch, bloodied and covered in dirt."

"You'll make good on nothing," Vuntha growled.

"I've had enough of this posturing," Katran said. "Boonta, we needn't have come. Jackson will be in the games."

"That's why you're here?" Jackson said. "Yeah, I'll play your game. Now fuck off."

"When the time comes," Katran said, "we will speak with spears. Malaki, let's go." A still-ruffled Malaki fell into step with her warrior. Boonta spared Jackson and Chaki one last, biting look, and then moved to catch up with them.

Jackson didn't shift his gaze until he was sure they were well and gone into the camp. "I don't think I've ever wanted to hurt someone this badly."

"Not even Charles?" Chaki asked.

Jackson snorted, shrugged. "Yeah, but Charles...it's not the same. Boonta does it because he can - because he thinks that makes him tough, feared. He's an impulsive idiot. Charles knows better than that. I respect him, in some ways."

"You never told me about that. You and him."

Jackson didn't say anything. Chaki looked at him a moment longer, but when he didn't answer, she glanced back at the camp. "What he said about Drana...perhaps there was some truth there. I must speak with her."

"Why don't you do that?" Jackson said. "Vuntha and I have some work to do."

"Alright. I will." Chaki turned and kissed him on the cheek. "...thank you, Jackson."

"I was stupid, before," Jackson muttered. "I'll...try to keep it together."

"No." Chaki took up his chin with the tips of her fingers. She looked into his eyes. "Do not bury your true feelings. Even if they concern things I may not like."

"...okay."

"I shall see you again." Chaki let her hands linger a moment, then turned and walked away into the camp.

Jackson followed her movement, taking her in. She was beautiful. Tall, slender, but with a graceful curve to her body; all the proportions were right. Her hair looked black against the fires of the camp.

She glanced back over her shoulder, saw him watching her. She tossed her head and ran a hand through her hair - that was for him. And then on she went.

Vuntha sighed behind him. "You are a lucky man, Jackson. Though Drana is right for me, I think."

"You like them short?"

"Well." Vuntha rubbed his nose. "I am not so tall myself. Besides, Drana has better curves than Chaki."

"But Chaki has the right curves."

Vuntha snorted and slowly shook his head. "I need more than a bare handful, Jackson."

Jackson made a half grin, then cleared his throat. "Let's focus. I quizzed Shaka on how the games work. All we have to do is stay a step ahead of them."

Vuntha glanced at his feet. He'd been smart - he hadn't moved much during the conversation, keeping the metal behind his ankles and out of sight of their adversaries. "I think, Jackson, that these alone will put us more than one step ahead."

The edges of Jackson's lips curled up in his small grin. "I know."

****

"The fact of the matter, ladies and gentlemen," Charles said, "is that Mentra reduces the immediate symptoms of Shakeman's Disorder by over 80% within the first two weeks of administration, and long-term use demonstrates full remission in almost 95% of cases."

Charles stood at the head of the table. He wore a navy blue suit. The lights were bright enough that the sheen of his neatly parted gold hair winked every time he moved.

He pointed his finger. A red laser shot from his Ftaps and onto the projected image of his presentation. He underlined the relevant numbers.

He gestured. The next slide flicked into place. It showed a graph; the left end showed a high spike, which then leveled out over time. "Moreover, our clinical trials have demonstrated in every case that the dose can be titrated. Mentra is best used in high doses at first." Charles circled the spike in the graph with his laser-finger. "As the brain gets used to the drug, the dose can be modulated to the level appropriate for each patient. A standard gene analysis of Cytochrome-P450 activity in a given patient can determine the Mentra degradation rate by the hepatocytes. We designed it to be an oxidation target with that in mind - control of the drug's removal from the body, to reduce side effects."

Charles turned his smile back to his guests. They all wore equally tailored suits and were preened for public display. Now that Mentra was firmly back in control of Ransfeld International following the patent lawsuit, they were here on behalf of the ICRB to negotiate prices for their various healthcare administrations.

Shakeman's Disorder was a problem that had sprung into being in recent decades. After the advent of close-interface electronics, many children were constantly exposed to digital devices from birth. In the same way an athlete's brain shifted to better accommodate his skills, a person's brain could shift to better interface with computers, especially virtual systems like the Dream Drive. Constant use of brainware, as the technology was collectively called, could induce similar shifts.

Normally, that adjustment was helpful; a person's brain could learn how to better comprehend and respond to devices, just the same as someone could practice and get better with a tennis racket. But prolonged exposure throughout the various stages of growth and puberty - while the brain was still in rapid development - had a dramatic effect on neuronal growth. The brain became neurologically addicted to the constant input stimulus. Prolonged cutoffs of that stimulus led to the same sorts of hallucinations that occurred with chronic insomnia.

In the worst cases, symptoms could present themselves within minutes of detachment from virtual reality. Most experienced headaches and double vision after a few hours which became progressively worse unless they plugged back in. There was also a strong correlation between Shakeman's and a variety of other mental disorders. Having a population that needed constant virtual access or otherwise be sick and unproductive was not a healthy state for any country.

Mentra had solved Shakeman's Disorder. Taking a leaf from the book of First-Wave Pharmaceuticals, they had marketed it as The Healing Turquoise Tablet. It consisted of custom made nanomachines, comparable to normal proteins in size, and resistant to digestion to allow for oral use. Once absorbed, they traveled to the brain, identified Shakeman pattern locations, and produced a low-level stimulus to keep the overactive neurons happy.

Saving the world, one tablet at a time. And making money to boot. That was efficiency.

"Our protein printers are at maximum capacity," Charles said, "but that is still the limiting factor on supply. It's difficult to risk capital on more production lines until we know how much we're going to need to make. The price is expected to decrease sharply once we're producing it in greater quantities." Translation: the more Mentra you order, the better your deal.

One of the men in the back raised his hand, then spoke. "Mr. Ransfeld, if I may."

"By all means."

"My name is -"

"Mr. Henry Durham, the representative from Ireland," Charles said.

Durham looked surprised. He drew himself up a bit, and cleared his throat. "Yes, that's right. You have a mind for names."

"That's what they tell me," Charles said. Ireland's representative was a bit low on the totem pole when you considered industrial giants like the United States and Germany; sometimes forgotten. But it was easy enough to memorize names and faces, and Charles had found that it was a much more subtle method of buttering people up than flattery.