Chapter 8
There had been some ‘social’ fall out for putting Sherry on the do not admit list. She was well liked by the staff, and it was used as further evidence Emmitt was not right in the head. He overheard one nurse at the station saying that’s why he’s a quadriplegic- God was saving the world from a future psychopathic serial killer. The thing was, even if he told the direct truth about a thing, because of age, he was dismissed. Because of his ‘delusion’ that he would walk again, he was called stupid. And ridiculed, “I thought you were going to walk? Can’t you wipe your own ass, yet?” Contrary to popular belief, not all nurses are nice. Contrary to popular belief, not all children are easy to get along with. If he was able to defy them more overtly, less passive aggressively, he would have been diagnosed with “Opposite Defiant Disorder.”
Still, occasionally volunteers came to visit people in the nursing homes. One lady, by the name of Oracle, a local ‘psychic’ celebrity, came in one day. The nurse was not going to introduce her to Emmitt, their irritable, devil child, but Oracle entered and she and the nurse found Emmitt out of bed, on the floor, and injured from having fallen. The nurse called for help and staff came running. They likely came quicker due to the celebrity and the floating cameras. Maybe not, but he suspected that and spun it that way. They could be sour ass, mean bitches, but they still did their jobs when it counted.
“Don’t touch me!” Emmitt snapped. “Let me do this. I am going to walk again, damn it.” It didn’t take much effort to put him into bed, but he flipped again, even as they were transitioning him from the floor and they had nearly dropped him. The Nurse practitioner sedated him with Ativan, and called for the mobile x-ray. When it was all said and done, and he finally came to, his arm was in a cast again, and, he was secured. No one understood how he had managed to turn himself over, much less go the distance needed to fall out of bed.
They were not happy. CEO, local administration, Nurse, Nurse Practitioner, and now the Doctor. Funny how cameras change things.
“You can’t use physical restraints!” Emmitt said. He was angry, but not yelling.
“The fuck we can’t,” the Nurse said.
Patel shook her head. “No, he is right.” “We got to keep him safe,” the nurse said.
“Put his mattress on the floor,” Patel said. “We’re not doing that,” the CEO said.
“It’s not against the health code,” Emmitt said.
“I am not bending over to wipe your ass!” the Nurse said. “You will wear the restraints, or a full body cast. You decide.”
“You are violating law. Further, you had no right to use chemical restraints. That, too, is against the law,” Emmitt went on.
“Your arm was broken, we sedated you to fix it,” Nurse practitioner said.
“I am quadriplegic with no sense of pain, do you really think that will be a good argument with the board?”
“I thought you were having an epileptic fit,” the Nurse Practitioner said.
“Do you want to keep your license?” Emmitt asked.
“What’s it going to take to keep you in bed?” the CEO asked.
“Rehab me,” Emmitt said. “Give me stem cell therapy. I don’t know. You have tech that can help me speed my recovery. Give me a full body Tens unit.”
The CEO took Patel outside the room. ‘Is he going to walk?’ ‘No.’ ‘Explain how he flipped himself off the bed.’ ‘There is always the possible of small recoveries, but no one walks again after sustaining the injuries he has.’ ‘No one?’ ‘I can’t say absolutely no one. It’s not statistically significant to raise false hope.’ ‘You only need one, spontaneous full recovery to say it’s statistically relevant.’ ‘The state is evidence based. They will not authorize experimental treatments on a child. They won’t authorize any treatment just because a person wants it. And if you go with hope, you want be getting your contract back. Care to fund it out of your own pocket? It’s not coming out of mine, and I am not going against best practices unless you and the state authorize me to do so.’ ‘I can’t legally keep him in restraints.’ ‘Put his damn mattress on the floor.’ ‘They still have beds with rails in them?’ ‘He can lower the rail.’ ‘How’ ‘Brain tech.’ ‘Turn that off.’ ‘Cause that’s not against the law. Patient burns to death in bed because he couldn’t lower the rail.’ ‘Fuck. I am tired of seeing his name on reports. Can we transfer him to a state hospital?’ ‘Based on what? Being an idiot?’ ‘He’s delusional.’ ‘He does not qualify for a mental health diagnosis.' ‘You have rapport. Get him under control. Give him an antidepressant and see if that sweetens him up.’ ‘He’s not depressed.’ ‘How the hell is he not depressed?! I’d be depressed? Where the fuck is his television?’ ‘He doesn’t want one. And he does not endorse psychiatric symptoms that would reflect a mental health diagnosis. I can’t medicate without symptoms.’ ‘He’s lying.’ ‘I’m a Doctor, not a lie detector. If he’s lying, he is using discernment. That means he’s functioning like a normal human being. I have ordered sleep studies. His sleep patterns are within normal parameters. We measure his food intake. His appetite is normal for his activity level. There has been no unexplained weight loss or gain. He denies suicidal ideation, he denies past attempts. He denies homicidal ideation. He has been angry, but has never once threatened to harm anyone, not even an idle threat in jest.’ ‘He tells people to go fuck themselves.’ ‘That’s not a threat.’ ‘He’s delusional. Surely he hallucinating.’ ‘He is in bed 24/7, no guests, no family, and staff minimizes their interaction with him.’ ‘Because he’s an ass.’ ‘He’s a child. If he isn’t trying to manipulate the social world, then he’s dead. We are his parents by proxy, but no one is stepping up to that role.’ ‘Can we adopt him out?’ ‘Now, who’s trying to manipulate the system? Should I give you a mental health diagnosis? You and your staff need to come up with a resolution because he is not going away and he is not going to walk again and you need to raise this human being who lost everything to be a decent adult. Any failure here is ours, mine, yours, and every staff that’s steps in this room. It is my medical opinion, all of you need to grow the fuck up and stop ignoring this problem.’
The CEO glared at her, made a decision, came back in the room. “Put his mattress on the floor.”
“Seriously?”
“By god, if he is determine to have some mobility, and he wants to wiggle across the floor, fucking let him,” the CEO said. He turned and left. The next day he had visitor. “Need some help?” she asked.
“If you read my chart, you’d know what I want,” Emmitt said. “Are you CPS, or State Health come to tell the hospital they’re violating code by putting me on the floor?”
“Neither,” she said. “My name is Janet Gates. I am a Doctor. I hear you want to walk.”
“You’re not related to ‘the’ Gates, are you?” Emmitt asked. There was a Doctor Bonita Gates in his Garcia mind. There was no way they were related- but maybe she was the granddaughter or great granddaughter of the computer genius Gates.
“Does it matter?” Gates asked.
In his ear, only he could hear it, “This is not the same universe you remember. It’s all changed.”
Emmitt recovered. “Why would anyone so famous come see me?” “We have a mutual friend. Oracle,” Gates said.
“I don’t know anyone named Oracle,” Emmitt said. That was true. Emmitt didn’t.
“How badly do you want to walk?” Gates asked.
“I am going to walk again,” Emmitt told her.
“So, you’re going to kill yourself trying,” she translated.
“Yes,” Emmitt said.
“If it’s okay with you, I am going to take over your care. If you want to walk again, by God, I will help you,” Gates said.
Emmitt laughed. “Good luck with that.”
“It’s not luck,” she said. “I am related to the Gates family you’re thinking of. I am rich. Even in this modern era of moneyless society, I am bizarrely rich. I transcend any concept of wealth. I am going to adopt you. My lawyers will beat the state lawyers. Not that they will try.
The state doesn’t want you, you’re a liability and potential PR nightmare. No one can deny that I can provide better care than the state. You’re only 9, but if you say you don’t want this, I will honor that and walk away.”
“Fuck that, I want this. I am going to walk again,” Emmitt said.
“Good for you,” Gates said. “Give me a moment while my people talk to your people.” “How did you hear about me?”
“I told you. Oracle,” Gates said. “She’s my personal psychic adviser and she says, you’re the one.”
“Who isn’t the one? We’re all the one. I am not Neo, this is not the Matrix. Well, it could be. I think Bohm is right about the implicate order…”
“I am impressed. Probably why Oracle turned me on to you,” Gates said. “I am going to adopt you. I am going to see you walk again, or die trying. I am going to change your world.” “Fuck me,” Emmitt said.
“I am not that kind of mother,” Gates said, playfully. “Hang tight. Don’t go anywhere.
And don’t break your other arm. Yet.”
Emmitt began to cry. “Thank you!”
In Emmitt’s alternative history-fiction, Garcia was the pseudonym, and Jon Harister was him. He had been careful enough to change the names of his characters, because he had concerned they related to people in this Universe. He was Hornblower who was Captain Kirk who was Aeneas- an ancient character revitalized. He was incarnations of the archetype along a continuum.
According to Ancient Alien Theorist, Aeneas was actually a real person who was contacted by the Gods- AKA, aliens! Unlike the older version, where he was chastised for not wearing the pants in the relationship- on the reboot alternative, he was asked to grow up, give up his Electra complex, and be a mature adult. It was never supposed to be conquer and dismiss women- that was a 2000 year long fiasco for everyone. All women are the goddess warriors, and if you don’t believe that, get between a woman and her child and you may wish you had encountered a bear snake. Women aren’t just symbols for nature, they are nature. Being a mature male isn’t conquering nature, it is becoming one with nature. The love holding him back was the wrong kind of love. It had been nothing to do with her being a great warrior, but rather is inability to not be catered to. This was not just about him. There were two people in this equation. Dido had fallen into the wrong relationship with him, one of a caregiver, as opposed to a partner. Both parties had failed to become their ideal selves. In order for Aeneas to mature, Dido had to die to herself, and her need to serve. In order for the child to become an adult, the mother had to die. But in truth, for Aeneas to mature, he, too had to die. One must die to enter heaven, casting away childish things the way a worm casts away their body and adopts the wings of an adult.
‘They’ flipped the script with Wonder Woman 2017. Queen Dido, Wonder Woman doesn’t dies. Chris Pine as Steve Trevor dies. Trevor is Kirk, 2008 reboot. Aeneas is Kirk. The City on The Edge of Forever is Virgil’s Aeneid! There was the Trek connection, again. All roads lead to Trek. But flipping the script simply overcorrected the course to the other extreme. Males are not superior to females. Females are not superior to males. We are different. We are one. And this was the controversy his latest book had stirred up.
No one knew his age. Some said he was plagiarist. Some said he was a genius. Some said he was a scholar. Some said they were making a fuss about nothing and this too was just a fad that would go away. Even if they knew he was a child, he would not be considered a genius. Education was changed. Kids today were more tech savvy and much further along than he, in terms of academics. They were further along because they were allowed to pursue their interests, and a child allowed to follow their interest always became experts in that subject. High school was now elementary. An undergraduate degree was now the equivalent of high school. One masters was half a college degree. A PhD wasn’t what is used to be.
Five days went by before he was transferred. He had become to despair. A few of the nurses became crueler, which was the only thing that gave him hope: the increase in their cruelty meant an end was coming. He persevered. Since waking up in the hospital, he had not left his room. Not even in a wheelchair. When the medic team came in to move him, accompanied by Mrs. Gates, he nearly cried. There was no warm send off. Gates seemed disappointed that there were decorations or balloons. It was just another day. He savored every bit of his travels. The vibration of the air ambulance was fantastic. It was essentially the flying car that was promised by Popular Mechanics in the 1950s. Antigravity generators were now publicly available, had been with the US military since the 1960s. Cars with wheels were on the way out, and roads were in a state of decay because no one wanted to spend money on an outdated info structure. There were now places people could no longer drive to. Major cities had actually taken out some of the surrounding roads in favor of trees and parks. Uber-flight Public transit lifted anyone to where they needed to be, controlled by Fleet-Intelligence, a subset of ATC.
He was brought to a private home and made comfortable in a ‘clean’ room. Everyone was suited up. Gates was there, and a Doctor Goods, Medical Microbiologist.
“I don’t understand,” Emmitt said. “This is my room, or we’re going to do a procedure?”
“We’re going to kill all the bacteria in your body, and introduce tailor made colonies more attuned to your body makeup,” Goods said. “You’re probably going to be pretty miserable for the next couple days, but when it’s said it done- you will be host to the perfect blend of flora and fauna. You will have improved immune system. You will have an increase in memory. You will never smell bad again, regardless of how hard you work out. You won’t even need to get a shower. You can. Your new system is quite robust, but seriously, showering kills off the good guys giving the opportunistic not so good guys to take hold. People don’t smell. Bacteria smells.”
“You’re going to irradiate me,” Emmitt said.
“Yes,” Gates said. “We already have the cultures to replace your present bio-symbiotes. You will be given the equivalent of a fecal transplant. You will be fed replacement bacteria. We will spray some on you.”
“And this will help me walk again?”
“We don’t just treat the human being,” Goods said. “We treat the whole system. You are a microcosm of species. We are not just human cells, but a myriad of organisms living in a synergistic whole. If your system is healthy, you will be healthy. If your critters are happy, you’ll be happy. Critters sounds better than bio-symbiotes. Anyway, it also works in reverse. If you’re happy, healthy, they are happy and healthy. They’re going to increase your healing potential because it is in their best interest.”
“You cool with this?” Gates asked.
“Hypothetically, if I said no, would you send me back?” Emmitt asked.
“Let’s be very clear on this,” Gates said, seriously. “You are now my child. This is more than just legalities. I took you on. I made a commitment. There is nothing you can do or say that will dissolve that bond. You can test that if you like.”
“No need,” Emmitt said. “Light me up.”
The staff, Gates, and Goods departed the room. Nothing impressive happened. From a monitor, Gates spoke to him. “Okay. We’ll begin the transplant in a couple days. Andrea, your personal android will address any of your needs. Medical staff is monitoring.” Andrea waved from the window. ‘Fuck,’ he thought. She was damn cute.
He focused on his body, seeking any information his brain could collect. He didn’t feel at all unusual. He did get sick. He couldn’t believe how sick. And it became clear to him, he was thinking right. It was like being in a fever dream, seeing the world darkly. He knew that bacteria was necessary, for digesting food, but he had not considered how important they were for thinking. Bacteria make chemicals that prevent depression, enabling the brain to build and maintain structures. They make neural messengers that aid in cell to cell communication throughout the body. Hell, bacteria was the primary source of vitamin K for the human body. Without bacteria, there could be no human being. Bacteria were some of the first cells, they were foundational, and everything depended on them. After the transplants, things began to clear up pretty fast. The house was empty, they just moved in and took over. He was able to sleep better once they moved in.
He asked for information about procedures and got a history of gross. Fecal transplants. He found an interesting anecdote related to it. There was this one lady who had intestinal cancer, and it was determined that they needed to kill her bacteria, perform surgery, and then give her a transplant from a relative. The lady was thin, and had always been thin. The person from whom she was going to get the transplant from had always been overweight. The transplant was successful. Overtime, the lady gained weight. Reducing calories didn’t help. Exercising didn’t help. Medical intervention became necessary. No medical interventions helped curb her weight. There was now a correlation between bacteria and weight, which meant BMI wasn’t just about nutrition and exercise, but about the health of the colonies that live on and in us. Studies were done to confirm. When fecal transplants from fat rats to skinny rats were performed, the skinny rats became fat. When fecal transplants from skinny rats to fat rats were performed, fat rats became skinny. When the woman failed to get the Doctors to do the procedure again, giving her back her original bacterial colony, she went to China and paid them to do it, giving her bacteria from a skinny woman. By the end of the year, her weight was normal. She sent her family member who struggled with weight to have the procedure. After a year, her BMI was in normal range. “We are not our bodies,” he heard Bliss say. “We are not just our bodies,” he argued.
Home life consisted of meals with the family. Mr. and Mrs. Gates, two biological children, and two other adopted children, shared a minimum of one meal a day. It was usually the evening meal. No tech was allowed at the table. With one exception. Andrea was allowed because she assisted Emmitt eating. Also, it was clear, they did not treat her as tech. She was sentient. This was his first android experience.
Tech wasn’t allowed at the table, but it was still there. Tech was everywhere. Smart AI assistants followed users everywhere, jumping from smart appliance to smart appliance. Conversations at the table were about things of interest, studies, humanitarian work, work, philosophy. Blessica- and Jejomar were fraternal, Filipino twins, adopted by the gates, ages 12. Savanah, eleven, and Jaden ten were there bio children. Blessica and Jejomar were skinny. Jaden was rather plump, and looked like his father Phil Smith-Gates. He had taken his wife’s name. Emmitt found a disconnect listening to the conversation, which was manipulated by the kids, with Mr. Smith-Gates modulating it as if he were the host to a television show. Mrs. Doctor Gates threw questions out. The topics ranged from the population problem, natural food production and distribution, ‘deep re-forestation,’ and Universal Basic Incomes. Emmitt listened. He cued Andria when he was ready for another spoon full. She contributed to the conversation, but tried to minimize correcting erroneous statements. She was connected to factual statistics, and so it was not always helpful to point out inaccuracies.
Jaden was pro population control. Savanah wanted to build more permanent housing, and not just pass out solar powered tents. One argument was advocating for a decrease in Universal Basic Income so people would be motivated to focus more on improving, instead of subsisting.
Blessica was absolutely opposed. She was an advocate for improved housing. “Income is joke. It’s outdated vestige of the crazy age, when people are measured by that. We don’t need it at all, except people still use that measure.”
“They need credit for services beyond basics,” her brother argued. “And they can earn that in the virtual world through game play and social interaction, or through participating in environmental services. We still have lots to clean up.”
“Three D printing can construct a house in four hours. Permanent structures benefit the environment, because it can convert human waste into fertilizer and feed that back into the environment,” Blessica said. “And if they have appropriate housing, their health is better. That’s a known fact. If their health is better, we spend less on human health care and can spend more on
Earth health care.”
“Not the point. If you give them house, you have to feed them, and if you feed them, they make babies. We’re at twenty billion people. Enough is enough already.”
“I think the birth rate is at all-time low,” Jejomar said. “Most city states now have an upside down pyramid…”
“So? Not like they’re working. Most people aren’t working,” Jaden said.
“Not true,” Blessica said. “Most the people are devoted to cleaning up the environment in their area. Some have it harder than others, but that’s real work.”
“If the population is aging, could we theoretically have a population too old to have babies?” Savanah asked.
“If we need more workers, we could just build more androids,” Jejomar said.
“No, I am saying, if we restricts births, humanity could go extinct,” Savanah said.
“Not likely,” Jejomar said. “We have eggs and sperm in cryogenics and artificial wombs.”
“But who would raise them? People will forget how to be parents.”
“That’s what AI’s are for,” Jaden said. “I am not going to have any children.”
“You say that now,” Blessica said. “Tell me that when you’re twenty.” “Emmitt, way in, please,” Mr. Smith-Gates said.
Emmitt finished his bite and stared at the table. There was silence.
“You were asked to weigh in, Sir,” Mrs. Gates said.
“I’d rather not,” Emmitt said.
“You’re a part of the family now. This is what family does,” Mrs. Gates said.
Silence followed. “Come on,” Blessica said. “We promise not to laugh.”
“Unless it’s funny,” Jejomar said. “Then all bets are off.”
More silence.
“We can sit here all night,” Mrs. Gates said.
“She isn’t joking about that,” Savanah said. That sounded like experience.
Emmitt sighed. “With all due respect to my peer…” Emmitt focused hard at the table and swallowed. “Sorry, my brother, I am fundamentally opposed to any policy that that resembles in any way, shape, or fashion population control,” Emmitt said. “That Avenger movie regarding Thanos culling half Universe’s population. That’s just stupid. He had a fucking magic bracelet and he couldn’t end galactic suffering by making more stuff? We have what? 10 to the power of 22 suns making more stuff. It’s not a stuff problem, it’s a location problem. We have the ability to travel interstellar. We need to move people. We need to bring stuff back. Or, here’s a Rodenberry idea, using the formula E=MC2, take a fusion reactor and a transporter and just make more stuff!”
There was silence.
“Jayden?” Mr. Smith-Gates said.