The Ghost Brigades

  Jared weaved with her. ::But I feel like I almost know so much,:: Jared said. ::Like I knew it once but now I don’t.::

  ::Before you are born, the BrainPal conditions your brain,:: Curie said. ::It helps set down neural pathways common in all humans, and prepares your brain for rapid learning and processing of information. That’s why it feel likes you know things already, because your brain has been prepared to learn it. For the first month of your life, everything feels like déjà vu. Then you learn it, it gets stored in your actual brain, and you stop using your BrainPal like a crutch. Because of the way we are, we can gather information and process it—and learn it—several times faster than Realborn.::

  Jared stopped, partly to let his mind unpack everything Curie had just said to him, but partly because of something else. Curie, sensing he had stopped, stopped as well. ::What?:: she said.

  ::That’s the second time you’ve used that word. “Realborn.” I can’t find out what that means.::

  ::It’s not something they put in your BrainPal,:: Curie said. She began walking again and motioned at the other soldiers on the walkway. ::“Realborn” is them. They’re people who are born as babies and have to develop over a very long period of time—years. One of them who is sixteen years old might not know as much as you do now, and you’ve been alive for about sixteen minutes. It’s really an inefficient way to do things, but it’s the way it’s done naturally and they think that means it’s a good thing.::

  ::You don’t?:: Jared asked.

  ::I don’t think it’s good or bad, aside from being inefficient,:: Curie said. ::I’m just as alive as they are. “Realborn” is a misnomer—we’re really born too. Born, live, die. It’s the same.::

  ::So we’re just like them,:: Jared said.

  Curie glanced back. ::No,:: she said. ::Not just like them. We’re designed to be better physically and mentally. We move faster. We think faster. We even talk faster than they do. The first time you talk to a realborn it will seem like they’re moving at half speed. See, watch.:: Curie stopped, appeared to look confused, and then tapped the shoulder of a soldier who was walking by.

  “Excuse me,” she said, and she used her mouth to say it. “I was told there was a commissary on this level where I could get a really excellent hamburger, but I can’t seem to find it. Can you help me?” Curie was speaking in a voice that mirrored to a close degree the voice Jared heard in his head…but slower, slow enough that for the briefest of seconds Jared had a hard time understanding what she was saying.

  “Sure,” the soldier said. “The place you’re thinking of is a couple hundred yards from here. Just keep going the direction you’re going and you’ll hit it. It’s the first commissary you come to.”

  “Great, thanks,” Curie said, and started walking again. ::See what I mean?:: she said to Jared. ::It’s like they’re retarded or something.::

  Jared nodded absently. His brain had unpacked the concept of “hamburger,” which lead to an unpacking of “food,” which caused him to realize something else entirely. ::I think I’m hungry,:: he said to Curie.

  ::Later,:: Curie said. ::You should eat with your training mates. It’s part of the bonding experience. You’ll be doing most things with your training mates.::

  ::Where are your training mates?:: Jared asked.

  ::What a funny question,:: Curie said. ::I haven’t seen them for years. You rarely see your training mates once you’re out of training. After that you’re assigned to wherever they need you, and then you integrate with your squad and platoon. Right now I’m integrated with one of the Special Forces platoons that decants soldiers as they’re born.::

  Jared unpacked the concept of “integration” in his brain, but found he was having a problem understanding it. He tried working through it again but was interrupted by Curie, who kept talking. ::You’re going to be at a disadvantage to the rest of your training mates, I’m afraid,:: she said to him. ::They woke up integrated and are already used to each other. It might take them a couple of days to get used to you. You should have been decanted and integrated at the same time as they were.::

  ::Why wasn’t I?:: Jared asked.

  ::Here we are,:: Curie said, and stopped at a door.

  ::What’s in here?:: Jared asked.

  ::Shuttle pilot ready room,:: Curie said. ::Time to get you a ride. Come on.:: She opened the door for him, then followed him inside.

  Inside the room were three pilots, playing poker. “I’m looking for Lieutenant Cloud,” Curie said.

  “He’s the one who’s currently getting his ass kicked,” said one of the pilots, who tossed a chip into the pot. “Raise ten.”

  “Badly kicked,” said one of the others, and threw in his own chip. “See your ten.”

  “Your words of scorn would hurt so much more if we were actually playing for money,” said the third, who by process of elimination would be Lieutenant Cloud. He dropped in three chips. “I see your ten, and raise you twenty.”

  “This is one of the drawbacks of having an all-expenses-paid tour of hell,” said the first pilot. “When everything’s paid for, they don’t have a reason to give you money. Call.”

  “If I knew I was going to be working for socialists, I never would have signed up,” said the second. “Call.”

  “Well, then, in addition to being dumb, you’d also be dead, wouldn’t you?” Cloud said. “Talk about being alienated from your labor. You’d be alienated from everything. Also, you’d be out a couple hundred dollars on this hand.” He spread out his cards. “Snake eyes and a trio of snowmen. Read ’em and weep.”

  “Aw, crap,” said the first pilot.

  “Thank God for Karl Marx,” intoned the second.

  “That’s the first time in history that has been said at a poker table,” said Cloud. “You should be proud.”

  “Oh, I am,” said the other pilot. “But please don’t tell my momma. It would break her Texan heart.”

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Cloud said.

  “Lieutenant Cloud,” Curie said. “Sometime this century would be good.”

  “My apologies, Lieutenant,” Cloud said. “I just had to finish up some ritual humiliation. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Not really,” Curie said, and nodded to Jared. “Here is the recruit you need to take to Camp Carson. You should already have the orders and clearance.”

  “Probably,” Cloud said, and paused for a minute as he accessed his BrainPal. “Yeah, it’s here. It looks like my shuttle has been prepped and fueled too. Let me file a flight plan and we’ll be good to go.” He looked at Jared. “Taking anything with you but you?”

  Jared glanced over to Curie, who shook her head. “No,” he said. “It’s just me.” He was mildly startled to hear the sound of his own voice speaking for the first time, and how slowly the words formed. He became acutely aware of his tongue and its movement in his mouth; it made him vaguely queasy.

  Cloud took in the exchange between Jared and Curie wordlessly and then motioned to a chair. “Okay, then. Have a seat, pal. I’ll be with you in a just a minute.”

  Jared sat and looked up at Curie. ::What do I do now?:: he asked.

  ::Lieutenant Cloud here will shuttle you down to Phoenix, to Camp Carson, where you’ll join your training mates,:: Curie said. ::They’re a couple days ahead in their training but the first few days are mostly just for integrating and stabilizing personalities. You probably haven’t missed any real training.::

  ::Where will you be?:: Jared asked.

  ::I’ll be here,:: Curie said. ::Where did you think I would be?::

  ::I don’t know,:: Jared said. ::I’m scared. I don’t know anyone but you.::

  ::Be calm,:: Curie said, and Jared felt an emotional sense come from her to him. His BrainPal processed the wash of feeling and unpacked the concept of “empathy” for him. ::In a couple of hours you’ll be integrated with your training mates and you’ll be fine. It’ll make more sense then.::

  ::Okay,:: Jared said, but felt doubtf
ul.

  ::Good-bye, Jared Dirac,:: Curie said, and with a small smile turned and left. Jared felt her presence in his mind for a few moments longer until finally, as if Curie suddenly remembered she left the connection open, it shut off. Jared found himself revisiting their brief time together; his BrianPal unpacked the concept of “memory” for him. The concept of memory provoked an emotion; his BrainPal unpacked the concept of “intriguing.”

  “Hey, can I ask you a question?” Cloud asked Jared, after they had begun their descent to Phoenix.

  Jared considered the question, and the ambiguity of its structure that allowed for multiple interpretations. In one sense, Cloud had answered his question by asking it; he was clearly capable of asking Jared a question. Jared’s BrainPal suggested, and Jared agreed, this was not likely the correct interpretation of the question. Presumably Cloud knew he was procedurally capable of asking questions, and if he previously was not, he would be now. As Jared’s BrainPal unpacked and sorted additional intepretations, Jared found himself hoping that one day he’d be able to hit upon the correct interpretation of sentences without having to do endless unpacking. He’d been alive and aware just over an hour and already it was tiresome.

  Jared considered his options and after a period of time that seemed long to him but seemed to be imperceptible to the pilot, ventured forth with the answer that seemed most appropriate in the context.

  “Yes,” Jared said.

  “You’re Special Forces, right?” Cloud asked.

  “Yes,” Jared said.

  “How old are you?” Cloud asked.

  “Right now?” Jared asked.

  “Sure,” Cloud said.

  Jared’s BrainPal informed him he had an internal chronometer; he accessed it. “Seventy-one,” Jared said.

  Cloud looked over. “Seventy-one years old? That makes you pretty old for Special Forces, from what they tell me.”

  “No. Not seventy-one years,” Jared said. “Seventy-one minutes.”

  “No shit,” Cloud said.

  This required another quick moment of interpretational choices. “No shit,” Jared said, finally.

  “Damn, that’s just weird,” Cloud said.

  “Why?” Jared asked.

  Cloud opened his mouth, closed it, and shot a look at Jared. “Well, not that you would know this,” Cloud said. “But for most of humanity it’d be a little odd to be having a conversation with someone who is only slightly more than an hour old. Hell, you weren’t even alive when I started that poker game back there. At your age most humans have barely got the hang of breathing and taking a dump.”

  Jared consulted his BrainPal. “I’m doing one of those right now,” he said.

  This got an amused noise out of Cloud. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard one of you guys tell a joke,” he said.

  Jared considered this. “It’s not a joke,” he said. “I really am doing one of those right now.”

  “I sincerely hope it’s the breathing,” Cloud said.

  “It is,” Jared said.

  “That’s fine, then,” Cloud said, and chuckled again. “For a minute there, I thought I’d discovered a Special Forces soldier with a sense of humor.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jared said.

  “Don’t be sorry, for God’s sake,” Cloud said. “You’re barely an hour old. People can live to a hundred without developing a sense of humor. I’ve got at least one ex-wife who went through most of our marriage without cracking a smile. At least you have the excuse of just being born. She had no excuse.”

  Jared considered this. “Maybe you weren’t funny.”

  “See,” Cloud said, “now you are telling jokes. So you are really seventy-one minutes old.”

  “Seventy-three now,” Jared said.

  “How is it so far?” asked Cloud.

  “How is what so far?”

  “This,” Cloud said, and motioned around him. “Life. The universe. Everything.”

  “It’s lonely,” Jared said.

  “Huh,” Cloud said. “Didn’t take you long to figure that one out.”

  “Why do you think Special Forces soldiers have no sense of humor?” Jared asked.

  “Well, I don’t want to suggest it’s impossible,” Cloud said. “I’ve just never seen it. Take your friend back on Phoenix Station. The fair Miss Curie. I’ve been trying to get a laugh out of her for a year now. I see her every time I transport a gaggle of you Special Forces down to Camp Carson. So far, no luck. And maybe it’s just her, but then from time to time I try to get a laugh out of the Special Forces soldiers I’m transporting down to the surface or bringing back up. So far, nothing.”

  “Maybe you really aren’t funny,” Jared suggested again.

  “There you go again with the jokes,” Cloud said. “No, I thought it might be that. But I don’t have any problems making ordinary soldiers laugh, or at least some of them. Ordinary soldiers don’t really have a lot of contact with you Special Forces types, but those of us that have all agree that you have no sense of humor. The best we can figure it’s because you’re born grown-up, and developing a sense of humor takes time and practice.”

  “Tell me a joke,” Jared said.

  “Are you serious?” Cloud said.

  “Yes,” Jared said. “Please. I’d like to hear a joke.”

  “Now I have to think of a joke,” Cloud said, and thought for a moment. “Okay, I thought of one. I don’t suppose you have any idea who Sherlock Holmes is.”

  “I do now,” Jared said, after a couple of seconds.

  “That’s a very scary thing you just did,” Cloud said. “All right. Here’s the joke. Sherlock Holmes and his sidekick Watson decide to go camping one night, right? So they make a campfire, have a bottle of wine, roast some marshmallows. The usual. Then they bed down for the night. Later that night, Holmes wakes up and wakes up Watson. ‘Watson,’ he says, ‘look up at the sky and tell me what you see.’ And Watson says, ‘I can see the stars.’ ‘And what does that tell you?’ Holmes asks. And Watson starts listing things, like that there are millions of stars, and how a clear sky means good weather for the next day, and how the majesty of the cosmos is proof of a powerful God. When he’s done, he turns to Holmes and says ‘What does the night sky tell you, Holmes?’ And Holmes says, ‘That some bastard has stolen our tent!’”

  Cloud looked over at Jared, expectantly, and then frowned after Jared stared back blankly. “You don’t get it,” Cloud said.

  “I get it,” Jared said. “But it’s not funny. Someone did steal their tent.”

  Cloud stared at Jared for a moment, and then laughed. “I may not be funny, but you sure the hell are,” he said.

  “I’m not trying to be,” Jared said.

  “Well, that’s part of your charm,” Cloud said. “All right, we’re entering the atmosphere. Let’s put the joke-swapping on hold while I focus on getting us down in one piece.”

  Cloud left Jared on the tarmac of Camp Carson’s skyport. “They know you’re here,” he said to Jared. “Someone is on the way to get you. Just stay put until they arrive.”

  “I will,” Jared said. “Thank you for the trip and the jokes.”

  “You’re welcome for both,” Cloud said, “although I think one was probably more useful to you than the other.” Cloud stuck out his hand; Jared’s BrainPal unpacked the protocol and Jared stuck his hand into Cloud’s. They shook.

  “And now you know how to shake hands,” Cloud said. “That’s a skill to have. Good luck, Dirac. If I fly you back after your training maybe we’ll swap a few more jokes.”

  “I’d like that,” Jared said.

  “Then you better learn a few between now and then,” Cloud said. “Don’t expect me to do all the heavy lifting. Look, someone’s heading your way. I think he’s for you. Bye, Jared. Stay clear of the lifters, now.” Cloud disappeared back in his shuttle to prepare for his departure. Jared stepped away from the shuttle.

  ::Jared Dirac,:: said the rapidly approaching person.

&
nbsp; ::Yes,:: Jared responded.

  ::I am Gabriel Brahe,:: the other man said. ::I am the instructor assigned to your training squad. Come with me. It’s time to meet the others you’ll be training with.:: As quickly as he reached Jared, Brahe turned around and started walking toward camp. Jared hustled to follow.

  ::You were speaking to that pilot,:: Brahe said as they walked. ::What were you discussing?::

  ::He was telling me jokes,:: Jared said. ::He said that most soldiers don’t think Special Forces have a sense of humor.::

  ::Most soldiers don’t know anything about the Special Forces,:: Brahe said. ::Listen, Dirac, don’t do that again. You’re just adding fuel to their prejudices. When realborn soldiers say Special Forces don’t have a sense of humor, it’s their way of insulting us. Suggesting we’re less human than they are. If we don’t have a sense of humor we’re like every other subhuman automaton humanity has made up to amuse itself. Just another emotionless robot for them to feel superior to. Don’t give them a chance to do that.::

  After Brahe’s rant was unpacked by his BrainPal, Jared thought back to his talk with Cloud; he didn’t sense that Cloud was suggesting he was superior to Jared. But Jared also had to admit he was only a couple of hours old. There were a lot of things he could be missing. Still, Jared felt a dissonance between what Brahe was saying and his own experience, small though it might be. He ventured a question.

  ::Do Special Forces have a sense of humor?:: he asked.

  ::Of course we do, Dirac,:: said Brahe, glancing back briefly. ::Every human has a sense of humor. We just don’t have their sense of humor. Tell me one of your pilot’s jokes.::

  ::All right,:: Jared said, and repeated the Sherlock Holmes joke.

  ::See, now, that’s just stupid,:: Dirac said. ::As if Watson wouldn’t know that the tent was missing. This is the problem with realborn humor. It’s predicated on the notion that someone’s an idiot. There’s no shame in not having that sense of humor.:: Brahe radiated a sense of irritation; Jared decided not to carry the topic of conversation further.