Shaw smiled again. “Ah, beautiful. A perfect world. We are on the same wavelength, Jon. Because that is what I’m striving for. A better place, for all of us. And I think your work can be a part of it. Because despite the fact that we are deep beneath the earth, I still have eyes and ears open up top, and it’s not looking good.”
“It’s hard to get a complete picture,” said Jon. “As one person. It’s tough to watch the news and know what to believe.”
“My information is unfiltered,” said Shaw. “And multiple man-made crises are coming to a head, all at the same time. Frankly, humanity cannot persist at this rate. The dangers are escalating, and soon we will be at the point of no return, at least on a human timescale. Much faster than many anticipate.” Jon thought to Maya, still up there, struggling. He tried to push it out of his mind. Out of your control, Jon.
“But not yet,” said Shaw. “Not yet. And as long as I breathe, I will do what I can to pull us back from the brink. To do what our world’s governments have been unwilling, or unable to do. To implement real change. To save us, quite frankly.”
“That’s why I’m here,” said Jon.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” said Shaw. “Because I see so much potential in your work, Jon. I know you must suspect that I brought you here for personal reasons.”
Jon’s eyes went back to Shaw’s metal arm, his fingers still moving.
“The thought has come up,” said Jon.
“I won’t lie to you,” said Shaw. “I want my arm back. But I imagine your son’s disability has driven you and your research. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” said Jon, images of shattered glass and broken metal floating through his head. He pushed them away, blinking.
“And I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” said Shaw. “Extra fuel, extra motivation, is what separates the good from the great.”
Jon thought to the sleepless nights, the long hours at the lab. He met Shaw’s eyes.
“I want my arm back, Jon,” said Shaw. “Just like you want Tommy’s legs back. But I see so much more than that. Imagine a world where there are no lasting injuries. Imagine a world where we regrow limbs, heal bullet wounds. A world where injured organs regenerate. We can conquer trauma.”
“That sounds great, Mr. Shaw, but in return, I don’t want to lie to you,” said Jon. “I don’t know if we have the time for it. I’ve worked for years, and I’ve just gotten to the point where I can begin testing. It could be a long time before I get any real results, especially in humans.”
Shaw shook his head then, emphatically. “I reject that.”
“There are limits—”
“Not here, Jon,” said Shaw. “Not here. You are not alone. A lot of people we’ve brought here have had trouble shaking these preconceptions about their work, about their research. They’ve been taught their whole lives, been educated about reasonable limits of science. About hypothesis, and tests. About the time needed to find good results. And I reject it.”
“Good science takes time,” said Jon.
“We don’t have time, Jon,” said Shaw. “But what we do have is resources. Infinite resources and cutting-edge technology. You will see once you get to your lab. But I want you to change your mindset, Jon. Think outside the box. Don’t worry about conserving resources. Think aggressively. Maybe even a little recklessly. There are no committees down here, and no politicians telling you how to do your research.”
“I’ll try my best,” said Jon.
“That’s all I ask,” said Shaw. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“I have a lot of them, but most of them are simple things, like how do I do my laundry,” said Jon.
“Operations is almost always the answer,” said Shaw. “I want you focused on your work, not on chores.”
“Then—can I talk to my ex-wife?” asked Jon. “Can I tell her we’re safe?”
Shaw paused and looked at him, pondering an answer.
“That’s a harder question,” said Shaw.
“Sabrina said it’s up to you,” said Jon.
“She’s not wrong,” said Shaw. “The buck stops here, so to speak. We keep a strong grip on transmission to the outside. I’m worried about leaks. I’m concerned about our research being used for ill. I know that we have moles down here with us, spies. And controlling the means of communication is one of my weapons against them. I trust you, Jon, because like I said, your research is driven by personal reasons. But others, they can’t be trusted so easily. You can write letters to her, Jon, to anyone, and they will be sent. Know that they will be read before that, but the only reason they would be denied is leaking information. As for calls, or video—that’s impossible at this point. It leaves too much room for error.”
“I just want her to know Tommy is safe,” said Jon.
“I will make sure she knows,” said Shaw. “Most have stronger feelings about their privacy.”
“I just want to work,” said Jon. “And none of your requirements seem that outlandish.”
“Another reason to trust you,” said Shaw, smiling again. “You recognize the need for some control. Any other questions?”
“I don’t think so,” said Jon. “Not right now. I’m sure I’ll have more.”
“I can’t say that I’ll always be available. I don’t meet with everyone privately, but I wanted to talk to you in person. And if you’d like to speak again, I’ll try and find the time.”
“I appreciate that,” said Jon. “I can’t imagine how busy you are.”
“It keeps me alive,” said Shaw. “Before you go, I want to challenge you, Jon. I want you in the special projects lab. I want you there, but this is a meritocracy. You have to earn it. But I believe in you. I believe in your work. If it succeeds, if you succeed, it will become a part of my plan.”
“Again, I’ll do my best,” said Jon.
“Do whatever is necessary,” said Shaw. The fingers of his metal arm flexed back and forth. “This arm is rope. It’s an incredible technology. In some ways, better than my actual arm ever was. It’s strong, flexible, and incredibly responsive. But in the end, it’s rope. It’s not flesh.” Shaw held it up.
“The next time I leave this lab, I will have my right arm again,” said Shaw. “And your boy Tommy will walk alongside me, on his own two legs.”
4
When Jon returned, Tommy was playing video games on the big screen in the living room. He wanted to check in with him, but he thought it best to give Tommy some time to adjust before they talked about anything. He was also just tired himself, after the long flight, and seeing a new place for the first time.
Their luggage was already waiting for them, and he unpacked his clothes, putting them away, and reading up on policies and FAQs, all present on his new tablet, locked to the Shawnet. It answered most of his questions, at least the ones that related to living his day-to-day life.
It didn’t have answers about how to reconnect with his son after pulling away from his mother at her behest.
It didn’t have answers about how to live in a panopticon.
It didn’t have answers about how to make his research work on real life humans.
He looked out at Tommy, playing a game, sitting in their new living room. Jon wanted to go out there and talk to him, and ask him about his fears, and tell him about his, and his feet moved toward him, to sit down next to him. But then his heart was seized by a terror, a great abounding fear that he couldn’t name or grasp, but was there, one he had forgotten in his absence.
He wanted to open up with his son, but the thought debilitated him. It exhausted him, just the thought of it. His time apart from Tommy and Maya had erased the heft of the emotional labor, of the simple act of caring so deeply. Of being around Tommy, his boy he loved so much and had injured so fundamentally. The constant reminder of an act he had worked at erasing since the night it happened.