Knowledge is Power

I reeled inside. Down was up and right was left – yet again.

I recalled that Blue-inspired image of chickens flying helicopters with their bok bok bok whump whump whump. I resolved to calmly accept that situation if I witnessed it. Nothing should surprise me now; I told myself sternly. That was the lesson I really needed to learn about this Perfectly Crazy World.

Get stronger. Disassociate. Get outside yourself.

Somehow, I held it together. I read in blocks, breaking them up with bouts of deep breathing and pacing round the room. I sang songs to myself, quietly.

I cuddled the plushie tiger and smelt Blue on it – that really helped. It prompted my brief return to bed, and I really got a strong scent of her on my pillows…

Blue, would you be impressed with me now? Would you be cheering for me?

I knew she would. She’d be telling me to keep it together. Dr Fisher would be – well, nuts to what he’d be saying!

Heartened and strengthened, I started reading again, the information fitting around the historical scaffolding Bobbi had provided me with.

‘Adem Bernard McGrath was born on the 22nd March 2006. His mother was Phoebe Iris Aldridge, an American concert pianist hailing from Vermont. She first met Gavin Enda McGrath in Belfast at an event for peace, staged just after the signing of the Good Friday Agreement (1). He was a history professor at Dublin Central University. They lived in the Ranelagh area, presumably until Dublin’s obliteration in 2040, and had a second child, Cecilia Harmony, on the 10th April 2009.’

I felt a profound sense of loss and bitterness again.

‘At around 10pm on the 8th January 2025, there was a break in at their residence. At the time, Mr and Mrs McGrath had gone out to attend a university function. The raiders expected an empty house, but they were confronted by Cecilia and began attacking her. Adem was grievously injured protecting her, rendered comatose with little prospect of reawakening (2).’

I skipped on:

‘Over 1,000 participants in the project were stored cryogenically. As the Greater Wars continued, it proved difficult to adequately maintain the condition of the participants, thus the lion’s share of resources had to be allocated to those who looked the likeliest to survive, presenting a great moral dilemma to Kazikawa and his team, who ‘never ever intended to play God’ (12). At this point, the team disavowed ever beginning cryogenics again on new candidates, believing it to be an ‘unachievable and undesirable dream, and denial of death as a fundamental part of the Human Condition’ (12). By 2050, there was only one survivor – Adem McGrath, whose body and nervous system was deteriorating also. Because of Kazikawa’s promise to Adem’s father, he reluctantly decided to preserve Adem’s life at all costs (13). The brain and core nervous system was removed from Adem’s former body for preservation, and by employing cutting edge DNA techniques and AI-enhanced stem cell technology, a new body was grown for him in an ‘artificial womb’ – effectively, a ‘petri-dish for humans’ (14).

‘Kazikawa’s influence as a founding father of the New Societies in terms of reconstruction, conservation and therapy-based ethos has been well-documented (14, 15, 16). However, after his death in 2058, instructions were left to proceed with Adem’s reintegration for the evolving New Societies. He believed that Adem could prove to be ‘a vital link between the past and present, emphasising how far they had come, and maybe what might have been lost over the years along the evolutionary journey, if anything at all’ (17). Considerable funding was ring-fenced for the completion of the project, as well as providing for Adem’s future should he survive, as well as transparency obligations to the media (agreed in contract with Adem’s father) by periodically updating them regarding Adem’s state of health (see ‘Adem: Symbol of Hope for the New World’, and ‘Adem: Not A Dirty Little Secret’) which began just before Kazikawa’s death (18).

‘Adem’s body took more than 62 years to grow in the artificial womb, aided by (and inspiring) accelerated research into genetic engineering. The process was complete in April 2117, and further reintegration began in earnest. As of today, press releases and interviews show that its success has been proven, though Adem’s future is not entirely guaranteed, and it is believed that he will need an extensive period of readjustment before he can enter society. Dr Fisher, head of the Phoenix Project and Associate Director of the Kazikawa Hospital, New City (19), has repeatedly appealed for calm and patience as an eager media and populace speculate about Adem, and his thoughts on our society today seen from his different perspective. Many outlets have, traditionally, branded Adem ‘a miracle’; The Sect (20) have described him as “a conceptual and biological abomination that should have been terminated long, long ago.” (21)’

I took another brain break, back amidst the comforting scent still present on my bed. I tried to review the bits that I hadn’t known before, since my new body had been grown.

The articles had displayed pictures of a younger me alongside recent photos released to the press of my new body. I wasn’t exactly ugly before but – talk about an upgrade.

Although still distrustful, I felt a little kinder towards Dr Fisher and the Phoenix project. Maybe their hands had been tied by honouring a promise. The anger I felt – it wasn’t their fault. My dad had decided that I needed to live on. It really was against the odds that I had survived at all.

Should I be grateful? So far, there were few things I felt grateful for. I took a deep inhale and caught Blue’s scent again. And I could walk again. That was incredible, I’d never take that for granted!

Suddenly, I felt pressure low in my body, building in intensity. I needed – the toilet! I wasn’t connected to tubes in the bed or under my wheelchair anymore. Looks like another part of my body is going to have to get into gear.

I shot into the small ensuite and sat down. Upon posterior pressure, a blinking AI console lit up instantly. Calming music began, and a deodorant began wafting. Oh boy. Ouch!

A traumatic hour passed, with not much happening but pain. Plus lots of deep breathing practice. In the end: success. I’ll skip the details of my crash course in stomach cramps. And even worse: bladder cramps. I was trying hard to muffle my howls. I hoped that this scenario wouldn’t play out every time I went.

I wish I had a manual for reintegration.

I walked circles around the main room, slightly bent over, holding myself low for comfort while the soreness wore off.

It was now about 4am. Could I take in more information? Did I want to?

I clicked on a video, which was all about the ‘Legend of Adem’.

It was pretty much a documentary with a little backstory, some video archive of my mother and father at University events, school performances with me and my sister, extracts from television reports around the time of the attack which ‘shocked a community’ and my family being interviewed after I was in a coma. My father was gruffly adamant – “He’s a hero, he deserves a chance at life, and that’s what we're going to give him” – they were then shown at the Supreme Court, fighting a medical decision to switch off my life support, and won that. I guess I must have got my determined rebelliousness from my Da. Sochiro Kazikawa then was interviewed, mentioning that he would be doing everything in his power to help his great friend.

There was a shot of Kazikawa in the hospital room with me comatosed, looking thoughtfully at me; the camera then trailed to my sister. I wished she was with me. Now. What would she think? Would she – no – she would never think I was an ‘abomination’. Ever.

The video rolled on, focusing on Kazikawa, making him appear God-like, shown as a venerable Lenin and George Washington figure rolled into one. The video explained why, graphically depicting global ruination from the Greater Wars. Seven billion people. Starved, shot, radiated, bombed.

Seven billion dead, and yet I lived. Why.

The development of the ‘Adem Miracle’ concept over time was then shown. I couldn’t help but laugh inside: All these people are going to be so disappointed! There were pictures of many commenting, saying ridiculous things like ‘He looks gorgeous!” and “He survived for a reason,” but then the video focused on The Sect, who clearly weren’t going to be sending me happy birthday cards.

I shut the console down. So, I knew it all, or pretty much. I have money? I have fame? I can walk – and use the toilet? What next?

What next was: as had become my wont, I collapsed in a heap on the floor. I had pushed myself too hard, yet again. And this time, an alarm did go off.