The Journey of Rick Heiden
All Rights Reserved © 2019, Rick Haydn Horst
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I hadn't appreciated the disadvantage of the unfamiliar environment. The instant my eyes leveled with the marble of the third floor, I scanned all around me. The smell of cooked food lingered in the cool air. The cage jerked to a stop. I retracted the accordion door, and the empty room fell silent. I stood in a vestibule shaped like a 6-meter cube with 5-meter wooden double doors before me. Knockers of polished bronze, like the left and right forearms of a giant, hung on the mullion of each, their oversized fists gripping an orb. I rapped the door with the left knocker and waited.
Gabe cracked open the door. I noted that he hadn't adhered to the strict dress code; he wore his Trust uniform. In just shorts and shoes, I felt a little underdressed. He looked around the vestibule and then opened the door to let me inside.
Most of the third floor held a great room, decorated in a classical style, with marble and mosaics of mythological creatures on the walls and plenty of Roman furniture throughout the room. To the right, a table with ten chairs had the remnants of a meal on one end.
Amaré lay on a platform bed, tucked in a recess of the room. I rushed to him to find him in the same condition as Neal. Horrified, I clung to the side of the bed rather than hugging him, although I almost did.
"I found him on the floor of his home last night," said Gabe.
"Why?" I said aloud to myself.
"We need to talk, Rick."
I turned to face him and backed away. "Can I trust you? How do I know you didn't do this?"
"What can I say to convince you?" Gabe asked. "I am David's man. If he asked me to do something, I would do it. Amaré trusted you, David, and me most."
"What do you want?"
"I want to ask you for your help. I can't do this alone."
"How can I know you're honest?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I could tell you what you wanted to know at Laurel's lab. I know why the population declined when Aurum invented the Youth Enhancement. Why don't we sit?" He glanced at the seating.
I nodded. Cautious, I followed him. He sat in a chair while I sat on a lounge. "Okay, I'm listening."
"Aurum invented the Forever Young enhancement," he said, "and when it became available most of the population found it abhorrent and opposed the idea. The elders of the time, including my parents, felt it crossed a line they were unwilling to cross, even for transhumanists. Most of the younger generation wanted and received the youth enhancement, led by Amaré, Meridia, Dmitry, Dai, Ruby, and me. No one older than us received it, and the three of our eldest, Amaré, Meridia, and Dmitry, convinced everyone between the ages of 15 and 24 to receive it by their 25th birthday, and everyone between the ages of 25 and 30 received it. In reaction, the older generations at the time, convinced as many people as they could, including Aurum himself, to not get the enhancement and to side with them when they chose to stop having children. Those of us with the enhancement felt we had plenty of time and an enormous reluctance to have children of our own. This began an era of profound change for Jiyū. The population plummeted from 6 million to 500 thousand in less than 200 jears."
So far, his story comported with what Pearce had told me. I had one question. "Why did the older generation stop having children?"
"That's complicated." He leaned back, pausing a moment to gather his thoughts. "At the time," he said, "the people of Jiyū had already eliminated a great deal of struggle and uncertainty to life, and the elders knew humans require the change and growth that comes from occasional struggle as well as an element of uncertainty. It's part of the push and pull of positive and negative forces if you will. These are the things of which lives are made. It can result in harsh circumstances, but it's what keeps us motivated, empathetic, and functioning as people and as a society. They also recognized that endings had the same importance as beginnings. They believed that physically living forever would one day make life vapid and meaningless. They believed that adding a potential everlasting life to the box of contentment, harmony, and order, the population had already created for themselves would cause curiosity to diminish and that both discovery and innovation would go with it.
"They believed, with luck, we would come to realize our self-made purpose wasn't enough. The only genuine, sufficient change and growth that we could experience would have to come from forces outside ourselves to color the world we live in, providing contrast, thereby making life itself meaningful. They didn't want to condemn more children to what they believed would become a path to self-destruction, or worse, a life of mediocrity from living in a hellish perpetual serenity. Their decision to stop having children embodied their most honorable choice, and they concluded that maybe by doing so, it would teach us a lesson they believed we needed to learn."
"Isn't serenity a good thing?" I asked.
Gabe considered that for a moment. "Do you know why we can enjoy experiences?"
I shook my head, not knowing where he was going with it.
"We can enjoy them because they end, even if just for a while," he said. "People find a ride at a fairground fun, but would it remain fun if it never ended? Too much of any given experience, including living in serenity, is bad. Even parents, who love their children, require the contrast of time away from them to keep them a joy in their lives. Our elders wanted to teach us a lesson in moderation. Life devoid of struggle is anemic, as it became on Jiyū, but too much struggle is soul-destroying, as it has become for far too many people on Earth."
"So, what happened?"
"Much later, after Amaré became Prime, the population growth rebounded."
"Yes, I have already surmised what Amaré had to do to compensate for that problem. So, the elders were right in their assessment."
He nodded. "Yes. Despite our search for knowledge and inventive ways of thinking, we needed something else. Jiyū vacillated between excitement and a complacency that bordered on apathy for jears. Amare's efforts helped to lift us out of that cloud, and it lifted further when you and David returned from Earth with Amare and Aiden, but it hasn't lifted fully and not permanently."
"Amaré tried to tell me of the portal's importance," I said. "It is important."
He nodded. "The portal has helped to keep us from remaining complacent," he said. "Change comes in the form of occasional newcomers and news from Earth. When they arrive, things become different, if just for a while. Aurum knew Jiyū would have this ongoing problem. I have awaited the time when someone comes and effects such change a shift of consciousness occurs, altering life here."
"If you knew what Jiyū needed," I asked, "why haven't you done it?"
He shook his head. "I recognized the problem, but as a product of this world, I didn't know how to help correct it."
"What would you have me do?" I asked.
"Keep doing what you're doing," he said, "much of the change here centers around you and David." He leaned forward. "If you know how Amaré compensated, then you know about the Prime Sharer."
"Yes, where did you hear about it?"