A Couch in the Sky
"That sounds like a certain shout out! How have you found settling into Zygon, Han- your branding has come everywhere with the team, so what's it like with the fame and visibility you're getting?"
Hyeon-Ae had been doing a bang-up job so far of ignoring the shenanigans that may or may not have been going on in the background, either out of sheer obliviousness of the spectators, or simply playing into her straight-shooter phenotype with full passion. She instead smiled warmly at the question. ”Well! I am happy to connect with all of you from outside of Korea, yes? In Korea, it is almost reverse, sometime, you know? I am a little known for what I did before, and now I have an opportunity to meet and share my passion with more people. I love meeting people and learning about how different everyone is, and still love the same sport.”
--Children of the New World--
--2081--
--Pyongyang--
“Maybe a psychopath?” the mildly corpulent man asked thoughtlessly, dabbing at his forehead with a synthetic napkin before stuffing it back into the chest pocket of his off-white orderly uniform. On the other side of the one-way glass, a set of children played with toys of various quality, engaging each other. Most were Korean, Japanese, or Chinese, but a few were of nationalities exotic to Greater Korea. In the corner sat a solitary dark-haired girl, not quite glowering at the others, but seemingly watching them without moving a muscle.
“Nope. Genetic markers and private emotional reactions don´t support it.” the mustachioed man beside him replied, lifting a mug to sip at his coffee-like drink.
“Indeed,” the woman next to the two men chimed in, pushing up her glasses briefly. “The test screening for these kids weeds out anything substandard. Genetic social deficiencies were ruled substandard after the Hongkong gene-edit debacle. Anything that slips through the cracks or develops is caught by the daycare folks, or by our machines.”
“Then, she's just creepy?” The overweight man asked with a little less guile, frowning to himself. “The other kids are doing just fine.” His comment earned him a snicker from the other man, and the woman exhaled a little sharply that may have been something reminiscent of amusement. The jab at the girl´s expense was shortlived, when a fourth, older voice piped up from the back.
“Not quite. That is what high compatibility looks like, my good friend.” his crotchety voice resounded in the enclosed lab space, turning heads immediately.
“Director! Welcome, I didn´t hear you enter-..” the woman shot back as she turned, clearing her throat quickly and once more adjusting her glasses, this time with nervous energy.
The old man, a balding man with sinewy, mottled skin that made him look at least one-hundred and fifty, raised his hand as he steadied the other on his cane. Despite bulky, primitive cybernetics owing to a different decade, and a metric ton of anti-aging measurements owing to the rumors around the lab - the director still looked like he had one foot in the grave. According to some, that's how he'd looked for the best part of thirty years. Hard to know if he was getting older, or just refusing to die. He lifted a crooked hand to gesture towards the glass, and the three gave the room another glance. “They are children, of course, and children will play. It is in their nature to be selfish and pursue levity,” he crooned with an unstable voice. “But she is different. Why not ask her?”
The chubbier man glanced between the group of children on the other side of the glass, happily indulging in flying toy rocket ships and outfitting dolls, testing puzzle pieces, or wearing buckets as hats, save for the lonely girl in the corner. He glanced back to his immediate superior, and the mustachioed man gave him a light shrug and gestured for the console. Frowning, confused, the man leaned forwards to push the loudspeaker button. “Nine-Four-Alpha. Why do you not play? This is reward time.”
There was a brief pause in the room, briefly highlighting the collective creepiness as they observed every child turning still and listening, some staring straight at the mirror-glass as though they could actually see them on the other side. The obese man shuddered involuntarily and let go of the button for the intercom, reminded briefly of whatever hackles he´d had to throw away when he took this employment. The moment subsided as swiftly as it had come - as soon as the children identified that the question was not for them, they returned to what they were doing, as eager to ignore adults as any other child. The girl in the corner looked up and at the glass still. “I’m resting so I can do better on the next evaluation. Thank you for taking an interest in me, sir.” she responded in perfect nouveau-Korean.
The mustachioed man sighed to himself and had another sip of his drink. “Creepy, like you said.” he intoned in full earshot of the director. The woman in the room in turn scoffed a little, looking both dumbstruck and proud at the same time. The larger man still looked confused, and lifted his napkin to dab at his forehead again before he got a scolding for looking sweaty. The old man just chuckled raspily, moving towards one of the few seats in the room, upon which the mustache-bearing foreman hurried to help him sit down.
“Perhaps little Hyeon-Ae is to you and to me, Mr Laoxing. Creepy,” the old man grumbled jovially as he spoke to and at the man helping him sit, before facing the room properly. “But she is better than both of us. She has recognized the futility of this, this-...” he continued, waving his hand in the air as he trailed off, trying to find a word.
“...Frivolity, sir?” The woman cut in.
“Frivolity, yes, frivolity. Good. This group is a little younger. They still need external motivation to perform above average. But that one there - she has recognized reward time for what it is.” The old man continued, gesturing towards the girl on the other side of the glass. “What did we tell them about the other children?”
“They are competing…?” the larger man replied a little uncertainly, only bolstered when the old man craned his neck in what could only be called a nod to someone who was blind.
“Yes, quite right.” he crowed back imperiously. “And they are being taught managerial skills, and resource logistics. I assume she has figured out that they are rivals in more ways than one, and there are more important things than having fun.”
“But, she´s a kid.” the portly man shot back a little incredulously.
“Is she? Developmentally, yes. But every child in there is already meeting-... urhh… Laoxing, where are they in metrics now?”
The mustachioed man stepped in with a quick clearing of his throat. “They´re performing to averages of the human population at age 16 physically. Age 13 mentally, on average. Seven-Eight-Beta, and Nine-Four-Alpha are performing higher due to increased editing procedures.”
“Mmh,” the old man crooned thoughtfully. “Not bad for nine-year olds, wouldn´t you say, old boy?” He chuckled, apparently talking to either himself or one of the two other men in the room. As none of the others knew which of it it was, they shared in the chuckle with a short, unsteady snicker. “When the exodus is ready, they will reliably outperform the average citizen on every level. A whole new class of people, not just in mind and body - but in soul.” He nodded to himself, and the woman nodded with him, clearly inspired. “They will be like our distant ancestors, unconcerned with the lackadaisy and debauchery of modernity, only interested in looking forward. To a utopia that we cannot imagine.”
The mustachioed foreman smiled faintly and sipped from his mug, looking mostly like he'd heard the speech a million times. The woman, ever the researcher, managed to look pleased with herself. The overweight orderly, in turn, scratched the back of his head, trying to wrap his head around the concept. He looked over at the playing children before looking back. “...If we cannot imagine it, how will they?”
As if expected such a question, the old man launched into a cackle that his throat could not support. “They are children of the new world, my good man. Predators among prey. A step toward divinity.” The mustache-man helped his elder superior back up at his nonverbal demand, and the crotchety old man wandered towards. No more questions were allowed - the spectre of infirmity loomed over the old director as he limped out through the door, followed closely by the foreman. The overweight man scratched at his neck, struggling with both the conversation and the implications.
He was jolted out of it by the sudden intake of breath and silent cursing from the woman beside her. Turning, he was presented with the same scene beyond the glass - two nine-year olds pushing and mumbling, hair being pulled, shirts being tugged. Fighting brewing. Before he could react, they were shouting, and the other kids were cheering and shouting and pushing in equal measure. Chaos, as kids are wont to engage in. The lady scientist beside him threw herself on the intercom to bark orders. But not to the fighters. “Hyeon-Ae, Leighton, Seo-Yeon! Break them up!”
Three children - the blond American boy, the dark haired girl from the corner - ‘Nine-Four-Alpha’ - and another Korean girl jumped in immediately. In seconds they'd separated the two kids who had been waving in the air towards each other with ineffective violence. They got them kneeling, and before long the two girls were more or less interrogating the two troublemakers on who started, what happened, and why, while the boy stood guard and defused others, who seemed to still the moment control was being asserted.
“They get punished as a group if they act out,” the woman explained beside him as she noted his staring at the situation. “Bit different from whatever rehabilitation division you came down from, huh?”
“Is this… okay? I mean… They're just kids.” He muttered uncertainly, wiping at his neck with his open hand. In the little playroom, things were returning to normal. The two kids had been separated, and the toys they had fought over had been distributed to other children. They were otherwise not being punished, it seemed; one of them talking to the two girls who broke up the fight, and the other already deep in a card game with the American boy. The situation may as well have never happened.
“We're building a better people.” She replied confidently, no small amount of pride bristling beneath the surface. We'll work for them soon, if we're lucky. Don't worry, Sanbeng. I'll put in a good word for you with our new masters.”
The portly Sanbeng smiled a little uncertainly as she laughed, unable to tell if she was serious or not.
Round 4 of Formula Anti-Gravity Racing
Saturday 15th April, 2094
Qualifying
Italian AGP
Strada Alpina
Marmolada, Dolomiti, Italia
1100 CET
“Sanbeng. You know I hate it when you stare into space like that. You look like a fool.” Hyeon-Ae barked curtly, stood as she was with her arms out in the paddock, two fussy Zygon engineering interns slowly but surely undoing the bulky exterior of her racing kit to free her of the last of her Qualifier run.
The overweight aide jolted out of whatever distant memory had him frozen, and he smiled apologetically at the racing pilot. “My bad, Hyeon-Ae nim. Great driving today!” He offered back in a manner most would classify as sycophantic. The praise earned him a glower and a murmur of consternation from the Korean pilot. “Right. So,” he rapidly continued. “You have a meeting with Marketing Manager Baek this afternoon. They took a chunk out of simulation time.”
“...Baek? I don't want to talk to him. I work better with Nayeun.” Han offered with a sharp frown.
“I know that-” Sanbeng offered with half-worried, half-explanatory tone, cut off abruptly as Hyeon-Ae started walking away the moment she was out of the racing suit, moving to take something to drink and say something to a passing engineer. Undeterred, Sanbeng followed and continued as if nothing had changed. “...but Manager Baek is here in Italy, and is planning a photographic campaign with the sights and such. It's greenlit already.”
“Ugh,” Hyeon-Ae responded firmly, sending him a halfward glance of dismissive disgust.
The aide briefly withered under her look before steeling himself to proceed. “While you're meeting the manager, I suggest bringing up the launch idea we discussed Wednesday… even if he is not your preferred partner, it is better if marketing gets on it straight away.”
“Mmh,” Han gave non-committally back. She was listening, of course, just considering other things at the same time. Mainly moving over to the big screens to see more closely how her time matched up with others.
“And after-” Sanbeng started, but paused when she glared at him.
“Are you going to be present?”
“Of course.” He nodded firmly in response.
Hyeon-Ae turned back to the screen, lifting a hand to touch her nail with her lips. Cassie beat her time. Handily too. Where did she go wrong? Why now? Another vector to worry about. And Baek, she needed a new attack vector for that smug snake. Not to mention whatever management was cooking up for this engineering meet she'd been alerted to right before the qualifier. So many variables. “Then just come get me when it's time, and brief me when it's relevant. I need to focus on this.”
Wordlessly, her rotund aide bowed his head and dipped away, both undeterred by her demeanour and knowing not to fight such a battle. Hyeon-Ae remained in front of the board. She turned to the nearest technician instead; ”When do we get Valkyrie’s data?”
“I believe they're on right after us.”
Frowning to herself, the Korean pilot slipped away further towards the lodges in search of Cassie. Time to have a small watch party, and a strategy talk.