Adam's Apple and the Infinite Regress Read online

* * *

  When Adam returned to the ship with Sir Edwin in tow, Layla greeted them both with a smile. “It looks like you had a productive trip after all.”

  Looking around, Adam saw they’d been beamed into a little conference room. There weren’t any guards in sight, though he didn’t doubt there were some waiting on the other side of the closed door. Still, as long as they weren’t within kicking range, he could relax a little. “It turned out better than I feared it would,” he replied.

  Sir Edwin promptly offered Layla his hand and introduced himself. “You are a sight for sore eyes, young miss,” he added. “It has been a long time since I had the privilege of being in the presence of such exquisite beauty.”

  Adam rolled his eyes. This guy was laying it on pretty thick. Sure, Layla wasn’t bad looking at all, but he wasn’t tempted to write any sonnets about her either. His eyes strayed back to her to confirm this point, and he noticed that her long brown hair was no longer in a ponytail, leaving it to cascade gracefully down her back. She wore form-fitting black pants and a fitted green t-shirt that complemented her eyes nicely. Her smile, a direct response to the excessive flattery, lit up her face and was a wonderful change of pace from the snide, dismissive attitude he typically saw from her. She stood with a hand on her hip, lending her a sense of confidence that didn’t seem overwhelming.

  Suddenly, Adam’s stomach went MIA as a tingling sensation replaced it. When she wasn’t joking about having him chemically castrated, or ordering him around without offering any clue as to what his fate might be, she was more than good looking. Much more.

  The realization left him feeling more than a little cross. This was bound to make life more complicated, and he could’ve hardly believed that possible.

  “I think you might be trouble,” she replied playfully.

  Sir Edwin smiled. “On the contrary, I live to serve, and I pledge to serve your cause in any way I can. If I can contact my brothers in arms, I am certain they will join me here. We’ve been waiting for a chance to be bold.”

  “Our hosts will be pleased to hear it.”

  A guard soon appeared to escort Sir Edwin to a meeting with The Great Orator. He gave Layla a deep bow before exiting the room, leaving Adam with an impossible act to follow.

  “He’s sweet,” Layla said.

  “He’s also odd,” Adam added, unexpected venom lacing his words.

  Layla laughed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “And what’s that mean coming from you?”

  Adam ruffled. “You barely know me. Yes, you rescued me from a messed up situation, and I’m grateful for that, but that doesn’t make you an expert on me. Since I got here, all you’ve done is tease me, ignore me, and refuse to trust me.”

  Layla took a step back, her eyes appraising him. “Maybe you’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Adam’s jaw dropped. He cocked his head to the side, studying her right back. “Really?”

  * * *

  The Great Orator announced that the rest of the Knights of the Order of Knitting would rendezvous with the fleet in the next couple of days. After that, they would all travel together to the rebel base. It sounded like a solid enough plan. Not that Adam had much of a choice either way. If he didn’t stay where he was, he’d have to sit alone at the fringe of everything he’d ever known until he died. No thank you.

  Even with his lack of options, Adam couldn’t deny that some things were getting better. Layla seemed to take his complaints to heart, because she was waiting for him outside his quarters the following morning. “Would you like to have breakfast with me?” She actually smiled as she made the invitation.

  Adam swallowed as a solid mass seemed to appear in his throat. He definitely didn’t like this new affect she had on him. “Sure. As long as my dignity isn’t going to be the main course.”

  She slid her arm through his. “I promise I’ll be nice.”

  Is she planning something? Adam wondered. Or is she actually being nice for the sake of being nice?

  The galley on the Vaaldeen flag ship was several times larger than Layla and George’s little ship. It was filled with hundreds of Vaaldeen crewmembers and a handful of other species. A steady background hum filled the space as people engaged in meaningless chatter before heading off to their morning posts.

  Once they had their breakfast of gray nutrient mash and a greenish tinted protein drink, the two of them sat at an empty table together. “You know,” Layla commented as she stirred the mash, “the Vaaldeen people actually consider this garbage to be the finest cuisine.”

  Adam’s lip curled. “Suddenly my own cooking doesn’t seem so bad.”

  She laughed, though she didn’t say anything. She stared at her gastrointestinally insulting breakfast, stirring it so the film that kept trying to form over the top broke around her spoon. The silence lasted so long, in fact, that Adam even considered taking a bite of his breakfast just to avoid feeling awkward. When Layla finally spoke, she sounded apologetic. “I think your trip to Jupiter Station proved that you’re brave and trustworthy, so maybe I should tell you how I ended up working with the rebels. You wanted to know when we first met, and I probably owe you that.”

  “I’d love to know, but I don’t feel like you owe me anything,” Adam said. “You saved my life.” As well as my manhood, he added silently.

  She shrugged. “If we’re going to be friends, I should tell you anyway. It all started when I began working for the Motorbike Missionaries.”

  Adam whistled. The Motorbike Missionaries had chapters on many Federation worlds, though they weren’t a legal organization by any means. The group flagrantly violated any law that got in the way of their objective: making money peddling their unique product. This product was something that practically everyone, minus the most masochistic individuals, sought out on a regular basis. Contentment.

  People often assumed they had to acquire something specific to find contentment. A financially fruitful job, perhaps. A family. Maybe a regular dose of physical pleasure. (There were certainly services that could provide any desired kind of carnal knowledge for a price, though most were illegal.) And while any of the aforementioned things could bring about a certain level of contentment, they also had their corresponding price. Keeping that dream job meant dedicating a significant amount of time to work. Having a family required money, stability, and yet another commitment of time. That’s why many wait a good number of years struggling in a career before starting a family. People may become frustrated and fear they’ll never reach their goal. Others, however, lack the social graces to even dream of getting a date in the first place. And for them, the enjoyment derived from the available (in spite of their illegality) “pleasure services” quickly faded into discontentment once more.

  By injecting nanobots into the customer’s brain, the Motorbike Missionaries provided a sense of satisfaction for a longer period of time than any drug or aphrodisiac. The nanobots were programmed to work on specific areas of the brain. When they worked properly, they stimulated those areas, creating a deep sense of serenity in spite of what life had to offer.

  “I liked knowing that my work made people happy,” Layla said. “The Federation declared us dangerous. I guess they didn’t like the power we wielded We rode in on motorcycles and made life worth living for those who felt hopeless. We were daring. Rebellious.”

  “Meanwhile, the Federation must have been breathing down your necks.” Adam remembered seeing news reports about sting operations intended to capture the missionaries.

  “They were, but we took that as a sign that we were doing the right thing. Besides, government agents weren’t our biggest threat.” Layla gave her gray meal one last look of disgust before pushing it to the center of the table. “There were other operations out there looking to give people a good time. We were a threat to that. Our nanobots were designed to wear down after a year, so people needed to purchase replaceme
nts. People didn’t want to give up their happiness, so they gladly paid for more. We gained money and influence, and the Naughties decided they needed to stop us. They targeted my chapter in particular, since we were the largest.”

  The Naughties were the largest escort business in the sector, providing beautiful men and women as dates to anyone who could afford them. Rumors circulated about some of the less legal aspects of their business model. However, the Naughties serviced a lot of prominent politicians. That helped them dodge plenty of legal issues.

  Unfortunately for them, the rising popularity of the Motorbike Missionaries threatened to render them impotent.

  “One night we were attacked while riding through a backwater town. The Naughties were there with all sorts of weapons: rifles, grenades, swords, nunchucks. Anything they could use against us, they had. They even paid the local townspeople significant amounts of money to join in on the attack. Everyone in my chapter was killed, and I was captured. I thought I’d die in the Naughties’ hands, but the Federation swooped in and took me.” She laughed, though it was the kind of incredulous laugh that tries to deflect the absurdities of life. “Magistrate Bibble saved my life.”

  Adam tilted his head, as if the change in position would help him make sense of this. “If he saved you, why are you fighting against him?”

  Layla grimaced. “I’m fighting against him because of what he asked me to do in return.”

  Rage flooded Adam’s chest as he imagined all the unsavory things Bibble may have demanded of her. This feeling rivaled the strength of the feelings he experienced when Bibble handed him his fate. “What did he want?”

  “He wanted to get his hands on the nanotechnology we used.” Layla sounded bitter, even deeply offended by the seemingly simple demand.

  This wasn’t the answer his indignant rage was looking for, so it drained away in its uselessness. “Why’d he want it?”

  “Who wouldn’t? The idea of buying happiness would appeal to anyone who feels like they can’t get it any other way.” Layla sneered. “Unfortunately, Bibble and others like him wanted it for more sinister purposes. His idea was to make the use of the nanos mandatory for all civilians. He figured he could cut down on crime that way, because most crimes are committed out of anger or a desire to have something you didn’t have before. The added bonus would also be that he could hike up taxes, grant himself a large pay raise, and pass a bunch of restrictive laws, thereby gaining more wealth and power, all without the people feeling the need to raise a complaint. He saw the contentment generated by the nanobots as synthetic, therefore inferior to the real thing, and he seemed more than happy to get ‘the real thing’ through whatever means he could.”

  “So, Bibble thinks you can’t buy real happiness through the use of nanotechnology, but you can buy it in every other way?”

  Layla snorted. “Yes. He displays his stripes as a true nutjob with that line of reasoning, doesn’t he? Still, it doesn’t even matter whether his reasons make sense or not. He wants people out of his way, and he sees the means to make that happen. It doesn’t matter to him if he has to do something reprehensible to get what he wants. As long as it benefits him and he can make it legal through the power he’s attained, he’ll do it. We have to do what we can to stop him.”

  “I learned this much from personal experience,” Adam replied.

  She looked sympathetic. “You were banished from existence over an apple someone else chose to steal and eat. It sounds stupid, but there’s reason behind it. Bibble’s been hard at work for quite some time now, looking to interpret law in a way that benefits him. Did you know that most of the expulsions have been retroactive, including yours?”

  “What do you mean? Are you saying I never officially existed at all?” That sounded utterly absurd.

  Layla nodded. “Yes. That also means your family couldn’t legally inherit your possessions after your exile. Even if you had a will, it’s been invalidated. Bibble is kicking people out of existence so he can take their things and sell them for profit. That profit is being used to fund his quest for the nanos, among other things. If he gets the nanos and successfully subdues the population, we’re all doomed.”

  * * *

  After his discussion with Layla, Adam wished he could focus on the fact that she was nice to him. He wished he could even indulge in a few fantasies about her. Not that he expected anything like that to happen, but having the freedom to do so would make him feel normal again. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the luxury of free time.

  The Knights of the Order of Knitting came on board, and they were anxious to get down to business. They all displayed a fondness toward Layla that mirrored Sir Edwin’s. This much was obvious when they gathered in a conference room for a meeting to bring everyone up to speed. Three senior Vaaldeen crewmembers were already seated around the large circular table. The knights, thirteen in total, were filtering into the room. None of them could sit without attending to Layla’s needs in some way, regardless of whether she had any needs or not.

  “Here, my lady,” one of them announced as he pulled out a chair for her. A different knight took over the duty of scooting her up to the table. Then another asked her if she needed a beverage, and another offered her a bag of pretzels.

  Meanwhile, Adam sat beside her, more than a little annoyed by the throng of chivalrous men in metal armor. They clinked and clanked as they bumped into the back of his chair, all of them seemingly oblivious to his existence.

  Adam leaned over to say in a not-so-quiet tone, “I’d offer you something as well, but it might be another ten years before I get my turn at wiping your chin for you.”

  Layla rolled her eyes.

  George sat on Adam’s other side, smirking at the entire display. “It’s rather ridiculous, isn’t it?”

  “That means it makes sense in my life right now,” Adam replied.

  “They’re trying to make up for the loss of chivalry in society, and in so doing, they’re being decidedly unchivalrous by jacking up my blood sugar levels to the point I might end up comatose before the end of this trip.” George paused as he tapped his chin. “Then again, that might not be so bad for me. We’re going to fail anyway.”

  Adam’s stomach knotted. His ribs still ached, reminding him of George’s previous predictions. “I thought your foreshadower could only see a couple of minutes into the future.”

  “That’s true,” George said. “That prediction is based on my natural pessimism, and it’s fortified by my cynical view of others. Unfortunately for us all, I’m usually right.”

  “Hmm.” Adam looked over at Layla, who had finally been attended by the final of the thirteen knights. “Why didn’t you use the contentment nanobots on him?”

  She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “I did. Nothing changed. As it turns out, George is perfectly happy being his normal, gloomy self.”

  Before Adam could comment, a circular hole irised open in the center of the table. Moments later, The Great Orator rose through it, seated in a golden chair. The platform holding the chair clicked into place, leaving The Great Orator to look down on them all. His back faced Adam, giving him a rear view of the feather plume. This side was also dotted with little yellow eyes. A few too many of them focused on Adam for his taste.

  “As we all know, we need to come up with a plan to stop Bibble from plundering our galaxy of all that is precious to us,” The Great Orator said. “He has already taken our home, but we will not cede that which is most precious of all.” A dramatic pause followed. “Our autonomy.”

  “Hear, hear!” the knights cheered in unison.

  “We must begin by answering the most difficult and important of questions,” The Great Orator continued. “That question is this: what name shall we give to this organization?”

  “Choosing a name is the most important decision we have to make? What kind of nonsense is that?” This vocal protest, so loud it made the whole asse
mbly draw back a little, came from George.

  Though Adam wouldn’t have stated it quite so brashly, he felt the same way.

  All eyefeathers turned to bear on George, though The Great Orator didn’t go so far as to turn his chair. “Word choice is everything. Public opinion is frequently swayed by choosing a strategic name. We must also label the actions of our adversary according to that same principle.”

  “But . . . this is a secret operation,” Adam objected.

  The Great Orator waved a dismissive hand. “It is only a secret for now. However, the galaxy will one day know of what we did here. Our actions will be inscribed on the pages of history books from every inhabited world. Those histories will be informed by our actions, yes, but also by our rhetoric. By choosing our name, we build our legacy.”

  “History is written by the winners,” George said. “If we fail, it won’t matter what kind of thought we put into this. Bibble will spin it to make us look like inept terrorists. Heck, he’ll try to do that the moment we make our first move!”

  Layla leaned forward, her eyes aimed confidently up at The Great Orator. “He makes a good, if somewhat gloomy, point. I’m all for honing our rhetoric, but we need to make sure we have a solid plan of action as well.”

  The Great Orator flipped a switch on the armrest, and the platform beneath his chair turned until he faced Layla. “Trust me, Ms. Garrison, that will be the second order of business. Perhaps you’d like to speed things along toward that end by proposing a name for our cause.”

  Layla sat back and stared intently at the ceiling as she searched inwardly for inspiration. “I can’t say how this would translate in your native tongue, sir, but I have a name that would mean something to my people.” She looked over at Adam and winked. “I suggest the name ‘Apple.’”

  Adam stared back at her, more than a little curious where she was going with this. “Why?”

  “It stands for the Alliance of Persons Pursuing Lifelong Existence. The title speaks to what happened to you through the acronym and by addressing your unjust banishment.” Layla spoke to the room, but she looked only at him. “What happened to you would frighten anyone. You did nothing. A crime was committed against you, and they came for you in your own home. If it happened to you, no one is safe. And now, even while you live, they’ve done all they can to erase you. This name gives us a clear idea of what’s at stake, and a living, breathing spokesperson that embodies it.”