dV711Wyv

11988
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5The American physio spoke excellent French, and used it generously without pausing for breath.
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7"I'm a huge fan," she gushed at him, as he sat down on the side of the bed, looking at the coiled veins on his smooth, brown thighs. "I fell completely in love the second I laid eyes on your beautiful spirometry graphs. And for someone so young! Magnifique! I bet France will love you almost as much as I do." She tilted her head. "If that's even possible, of course."
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9Her television was hanging on a bracket in the corner - muted, it made no sound save for a subsonic whine, but the ticker-tape captions scrolled along, word at a time - the IOC repeated its statement that Johnson's record, including his previous world record time of 9.83s in/ 1987/, can/ no/ longer/ be/ officially/ recognised/ in/ light/ of 
10
11"Did he tell you? You mentioned you hold your breath while running, right? Your lungs are extremely large and efficient for your body size. Your blood is supplied with more oxygen than your red blood cells can even hold. What's more, you told me it has always been this way. I suppose I could ask you why you chose to go with running rather than swimming or something, but the important thing is that you have the capacity to fuel your body through extreme endeavours, programmed from birth into an accident of your DNA. There's no wonder you're so good. You were born with that capability inside you. And, hell, if the IOC keeps insisting doping is against the rules, then all we're really measuring is innate ability, and you have that. You deserve a world record more than they do."
12
13But it was impossible nowadays - Cold War science and misplaced patriotism creating a Prisoner's dilemma. He remembered watching them in the Olympic park - sprinting place to place, eyes yellowed, subsonic voices raised too loud over things that mattered too little. They were talented, and trained, and transformed - transhumanist demigods, not limited by their own human bodies any more.
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15"So if it makes me so amazing," he said to her, "then why can't I compete against them?"
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17She crossed the linoleum floor, creaked into her chair, and began tabbing through his records on the Amstrad. For the first time, she was quiet. He could tell from the back of her head that she was frowning.
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19"Hmm. You genuinely haven't been using anything, have you?"
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21"I keep away from steroids," he agreed, shrugging. "I've seen what it can do to people."
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23Plus, it was all he could do to afford a physio on his coaching salary, let alone regular courses of black market drugs from a reliable source.
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25"Plus, the IOC will get one sniff of something anabolic in the Olympic Village urinals and mount a full offensive, and nobody wants that. But still, I'm surprised. There are other options - like EPO, which I think would work very well with your physiology, and we aren't going to give the IOC our testing method for another ten years or so - maybe a little longer if that path turns out to be interesting, but if you ask me we did enough research on it in the 70s -"
26
27"'We'?"
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29The American physiotherapist spun around in her chair.
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31"I represent a grassroots organisation," she said, carefully, "dedicated to furthering a dream of global peace and harmony. A hundred years ago, your countryman Pierre de Coubatin made that the goal of les Jeux olympiques, after all. We share an ideal, and that makes it an ideal platform for us."
32
33"You're a charity?"
34
35She shook her head.
36
37"Nothing like that."
38
39"Corporate?"
40
41"Well, I personally have a corporate sponsor, but no. Think of us as an organisation of citizens, concerned with the way the world is going. Come on. Don't look so unimpressed. We're here to help everyone, by helping you."
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43She didn't seem like an athlete or even an ex-athlete to him - too awkward in personality, ageing too fast, and this whole thing reeked of criminal enterprise. But no-one else was interested in helping a no-name athlete, one who did well in the national competitions but couldn't even qualify for the real 100m
44
45"I've got one thing I need to know," he said, after a little thought.
46
47"Go on."
48
49"I need to know if you can make me win. Because if you can make me win," he insisted to her, striking his hands together as he spoke, "so that I can carry on running, which is all I want - then I'll do anything."
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51The American physiotherapist laughed, [total wham line goes here]
52
53==
54
55He fired his trainer via fax, with the American physio standing over him while he did it. As the sheet of paper coiled back around in the machine, he felt a twinge of guilt - he hadn't known him well outside of running, but he was honest, and kind.
56
57The reply came back in very neat handwriting, letters pondered over. The words were puzzled, and terse, but accepting. A sudden memory of the way he had felt when his trainer had put a hand on his sweat-soaked back, congratulating him on a great session, tightened his throat; but then he looked up at the physio, and realised from her smile that he was done. An odd sensation of finality swelled inside him, and he grinned at her, relieved.
58
59"Thank you," she said. "I know it's hard, but trust me, you won't need him ever again."
60
61"Are you going to bring in someone else?"
62
63"I'm afraid confidentiality is a problem," she said, combing her fall of red hair behind her ear. "The substances you are going to use are such a huge breakthrough that if my collegues got wind that I was even performing research, they'd put two and two together and know what I am doing. I'm afraid you cannot go public, but in a while, after we understand what is happening to you better, you can hire a new trainer, if you like."
64
65He nodded. The Alps had a strong running community due to the need to altitude train. If he could find someone recently fired by their protegee, he could snap them up.
66
67"So what's so special about this drug?"
68
69"We've understood the principle for a long time," she said, "but until this most recent breakthrough, it's been little more than science fiction. Imagine if, instead of having to dope with a single substance like EPO or steroids, you could dope with multiple substances, simultaneously, and safely? Instead of having to take regular shots or tablets, the amount in your body would self-regulate and adapt in real time based on your body's condition. And, on top of that, imagine if you could do that untraceably, using only hormones and bioactive chemicals produced naturally in the body, and in doses well within ordinary human ranges. It's the Holy Grail of doping technology, and completely unstoppable by the IOC. If it became public knowledge, it would become literally impossible to compete without doping, and with the playing field such levelled, soon people will have to change their opinions. The Greeks started the Olympics three thousand years ago to celebrate human beauty, and now, as we move into the last decade of the Twentieth Century, we would find ourselves celebrating transhuman ingenuity. They say it's a matter of time before the Paralympians start making all the records, right? Why not pull that date a little closer? I'm not going to live forever, you know."
70
71She laughed.
72
73"Anyway, in order to do this, we needed a drug medium of some kind - something that could be subverted in such a way to make it behave in the complicated ways that we need it to, and something capable of moving autonomously inside the body without having to wait for the bloodstream. My first idea was building a designer molecule with two 'legs' that allow it to 'walk' along the inside of the body using chemical reactions, but this was nowhere near fast or versatile enough. So we looked at bacteria, and after ten years we were able to use genetic modification to create a new form of E.coli that carried substances in its body and released them under certain conditions. But they were bulky and fussy - they would not cross the blood-brain barrier, for instance, diminishing its utility - and on top of that, they tended to make both our test animals and test people ill because of its rapid reproduction and the way the body's immune system freaks out whenever exposed to it. But now, we have the answer; it cannot be rejected due to its ability to infiltrate cells, it can travel around the body at will, and it responds actively to the body's condition - a genetically-engineered virus."
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75"Isn't a virus just as dangerous as bacteria?"
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77"Not if its behaviour is controlled. We have created a whole family of these, which work in a kind of team to control, regulate and perfect bodily functions. Each particular virus is like a gear in a machine. Together, they act as your body's personal mechanics, going wherever needed to boost performance. There is no chance of it being detected - as I said, they only use chemicals already available inside the body, and due to their efficiency, will not use large enough amounts to indicate that anything at all is wrong."
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79"This sounds too good to be true," he grunted, working fingers through the coarse roots of his hair. "So what do you call these viruses?"
80
81"Nanomachines."
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84
85==
86
87The alpine air breathed sweat away from his skin, as he ran - he was always training a little, always noting his own performance for the sake of future improvement, but for the most part, he was running for the sheer joy of moving his body. His rubber soles bounded off loose tufts of stubbled mountain grass, sharp white stones, splashed in stagnant pools of rust-coloured water. His heart thudded between his ears, each beat sucking nanomachines around his body.
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89Eventually, he reached the outer wall of the compound, and collapsed against it, palms sticking against the rough brick, and then dropped down to his knees to sit against it, grimacing with pleasure. He looked down at his ankles - a vein, not visible at rest, had swollen, the shape of the threads in the corner of his vision when he stared at the white mountain sky.
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941992
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96He had not been talking to the others in the Olympic Village, even to the other French athletes. It seemed fairly obvious to him that if he did so, they would be able to tell somehow from his actions or voice or motion tics what he had been doing. The newspapers insisted the atmosphere was different to 1988, celebrating the new feeling of togetherness now that the wall that divided a city had been torn down, taking with it the curtain that divided the world; a single German team where there had once been two, and a South African team of many colours where there had once been one. But to him, it felt like everyone was huddled together, whispering secrets, backstabbing, cheating, and staring at him, seeing the trillions of machines he was smuggling in within his body.
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98On the first night, he sweated so hard that his sheets stuck to his skin, and in his half-awake mind it was a weight on his chest, crushing him down too hard to run. Eventually he peeled himself up, and sat at his table, listening to the early birdsong and the hushed whispers of athletes around and below him. He touched a nanomachine tablet to his tongue, and it slid effortlessly down his throat. He knew that after three minutes it would start to adjust his body to the temperature, but he waited thirty, and sweat was still pooling in his eye sockets, drops hanging off his lashes. Without any other choice, he strapped on his shoes, and went out to run around the Village in the moonlight.
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103The crowd screamed, and the noise was deafening - thousands upon thousands of tiny throats collected into a monstrous whole. He shrugged, attempted to ignore their eyes, but found himself staring up into the stands instead. On the front row to his right, scarcely ten metres away from him, he noticed the American physio, attempting to applaud without putting down the Cobi toy in her hand. Next to her was a striking man, tall and huge with combed-back grey hair. The spectator's remaining eye fixed him, and he looked back towards the track, shaking out his limbs.
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105"On your marks."
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107The nanomachines were keeping his heart from pounding harder than necessary, and he didn't feel it in his chest as the body-shaking death-rattle of four years ago - instead as a rhythmic vibration, doing little more than tighten his throat a little as he swallowed. Even his own body was hiding itself from him, keeping secrets, conspiring with the drugs.
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109He swaggered over to the blocks, and when his name was announced, turned towards the audience, grinned, and did a gesture with two hands that made the imposing man beside his physio turn frantically to her, and the rest of the audience give a burbling laugh, rising through the cheer like bubbles through champagne. 
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111He swallowed again. No good. Spat. Arranged himself on spread hands. Stared at the finish line.
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116"Get set."
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120His legs tingled - the flesh under the skin fizzy with blood. The crowd hushed, fading away, and leaving him inside his own skull.
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122He heard his heart like a timpani at the top of his spine - 
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124Lub-dub - 
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126BANG
127He fired his thighs. Foot against asphalt. Body straightened. Heel and toe rolling, like the tread of a wheel.
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129Coloured cloths bordering his vision, patriotic flags. Sweat-slick arms pumping, either side.
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131He'd had a bad start.
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133His legs pumped, powerful strokes, nuclear powered. He was a walking tank, between machine and man.
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135The screaming ecstacy of the crowd penetrated his consciousness just as he shot through the line.
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137He let his body grind to a halt. Around him, the world spun. He panted for breath - one… two… and then turned around to watch the last runner cross the line.
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139The runner for the US came up to him. His sweat-sticky arms wrapped around the curve of his neck.
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141"Well done," he said, in English, voice chattery and hysterical between his breaths. "Amazing. Sweet. God almighty, you're - "
142
143He lifted his eyes to the scoreboard.
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1458.58.
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147For almost that exact time, he stared at the numbers, trying to fit them into his mind, retracing the motions his body made in each of those seconds. And then the euphoria hit him, as if his runner's high had reached flashpoint and ignited in his chest.
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149He threw his long arms open wide, let the roar of the crowd soak into every bead of sweat on his skin, the sound throbbing around the kickdrum of his own beating heart.
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151The American physio was jumping up and down, waving a paper Tricolour on a stick, white hair tangled over her screaming face, but the man beside her was not celebrating like the rest of the crowd. Instead, he was standing neatly, applauding with gloved hands, a politician's applause, and he felt a sudden twist of outrage at the man for ruining this moment, this indescribable moment that belonged to him. He felt his flesh run cold. Dark creatures crawled outside the boundary of his vision; black, twinkling worms, sliding with each rattle of his heart.
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153He closed his eyes and fell, pulling himself into a sitting position on the asphalt.
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1558.58.
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157A new World Record.
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170His room in the French villa was dark, and even after turning on the light did not look more welcoming. He knew, with a burning conviction, that there was something lurking in the shadows, but shook it off - paranoia, stress-induced paranoia. At least here there were no reporters, no sponsors, no IOC workers drawing vials of his contaminated blood and finding it clean.
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172The feeling of winning after so long was not what he had been expecting. He had been imagining his life to end after this moment, like a movie cutting to credits. He did not anticipate having to exist after that moment, the moment where everything he had lived for would be released in an 8.58 second orgasm, and now that he did he felt emptied, and a little scared.
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174He showered, shaved his face which itched with his Barcelona sweat, shaved his legs for speed. The stench of his own body mushroomed up pleasantly in the steam, and he emerged and dried himself, feeling no more comfortable. Naked, he wondered back into his own bedroom, sat on the end of the bed, and turned on the little TV.
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176He himself was on it, grinning and flirting with an interviewer, in a conversation he genuinely could not remember. His face looked strange, poorly balanced for not being mirrored.
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178"It was perfect," he was telling her in English, grinning white teeth, scar-like veins showing through his temples. "I can't describe it. But it was the perfect emotion. Fear, pain, sorrow, fury, just all wrapped up in joy. I want to cry and to laugh and to rage and to scream all at once, all at the same time. I never want this feeling to end."
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180And the television flicked off.
181
182He started at the sudden silence, before realising that the remote control was in the hand of a tall, pale man with smooth, cropped silvery-blond hair. His lips were thin, and in front of him projected a striking, pointed nose that did not quite fit his face and that had definitely been broken a few times in the past.
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184Something was telling him to run away other than the usual drive to win, and yet he remained rooted to the spot, simply because he could not imagine how this man got here in the first place.
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186"They're calling you 'The Running Man'," he said. He had an unusual voice, not particularly low, but whispery and sharp. His face was pale, and curiously ageless.
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188"Who the hell are you?!" the Running Man said, and then repeated it in English, in case the intruder did not understand - "Who are you?! Get out!"
189
190"I don't think we're going to be doing that," growled an American voice, in English, from the opposite corner of the room. He turned to see the man from the crowd earlier, the man who had not celebrated.
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192The air prickled on his naked skin.
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194"I will call security - "
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196"Relax," said the man with the remote control, a tiny hint of force in his words.
197
198"How - how did you get in?" he jabbered at him, getting to his feet, pulling the bedclothes in front of his bare body as a makeshift shield. The man from the crowd stepped forward and smiled, eyes dipping down.
199
200"You're certainly built like an Olympian."
201
202The scenarios flashing in his head suddenly began reaching a wholly different set of conclusions. He bolted for the door.
203
204"No, don't misunderstand," the man with the remote suddenly called. "We're Olympians too."
205
206At this, he had to turn around.
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208"My name is Frank. I am a gymnast," said the man with the remote, "competing for Germany. I also perform in the Winter Olympics as a figure skater."
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210The Running Man found himself laughing.
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212"I assume the door was unlocked? How did you hide all that time? You must be… be stealth masters."
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214The older man rolled his eye.
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216"I'm Jack. I came fifth in the Men's 1500km Dog Sledding in Calgary in 1988."
217
218"Liar," the Running Man snarled. "That's not even a real event."
219
220At this, Jack's face seemed to crinkle.
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222"It isn't?" he said. "Too bad."
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224Even if he was young enough to realistically compete, thought the Running Man, they'd probably put him in the Paralympics instead, considering his disability.
225
226"You were in the crowd when I won," he said. "What do you have to do with my physiotherapist?"
227
228At this, Jack's eye flashed.
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230"She's not exactly a friend of mine," he said, carefully. He arranged himself and sat down on the side of the bed. "She and I have a long history together. It's complicated."
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232"Ah," nodded the Running Man, suddenly understanding. He had never had time for people outside of running, but he knew how such things were supposed to go.
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234"The Olympics are politically neutral territory where people from all over the world can come together in peace. There's friction pretty often, but that's inevitable. You can think of it as an official ceasefire," said Jack. "She invited me to attend them with her, claiming it was a peaceful gesture, but by bringing my friend along - " the Running Man took the opportunity to look at the other intruder, grim-faced and sullen - "I've violated the terms of the 'treaty'. I think she knows, but she also knows I know about her agent, so for now we're in - kind of a Mutually Assured Destruction situation. But I'm not stupid. I know this isn't just some little get together with someone who used to be a friend."
235
236"She was showing you off," Frank said. "Displaying her monster."
237
238"Monster?"
239
240Jack nodded.
241
242"You never achieved what you just achieved on hard work and physiology alone, did you?"
243
244Frank folded his arms.
245
246"She told you she was working for a disability therapy corporation, right? Boss had me look into it and it's hollow, a dummy corporation that exists only as an offshore account. The funds she's receiving aren't from profits or philanthropic donations; they're coming in from DARPA, and from a privately-owned company that DARPA is currently subcontracting - ArmsTech."
247
248"She's not a physiotherapist," said Jack. "She's a combat medic. And not just any combat medic - she's a known reformer of front-line medicine, as well as being one of the founding members of ArmsTech."
249
250"ArmsTech," the Running Man repeated, blankly, carefully running his mind back over the English words, confirming he didn't get any of them wrong. "I heard about them on the news. They supplied weapons to urban terrorists in my own country."
251
252"Yeah. They've also been responsible for more atrocities than anyone would be willing to admit." Jack scratched his moustache. "It's not like an innocent arms production company exists, but ArmsTech is worse than most. It's not run by profit-driven automatons chasing the market. They choose their battles based on politics. And it looks like you got caught up in that." He grinned. "Bad luck."
253
254A shudder travelled down the Running Man's shorn arms.
255
256"So," he considered. "What does this mean about me?"
257
258Frank inhaled, sharply, and turned his head. Jack just frowned a craggy frown, the sagging skin in the orbit of his eye softening its stare a little.
259
260"You're the guinea pig for the very technology that they're going to use to make me redundant," he said.
261
262The Running Man opened his mouth, but there was no response he could make. These men, these two unaccommodating, magnificent, inhumans knew the secret that would end his career; and here he was, naked, listening to them talk about conflict and conspiracy and people who wanted them dead.
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264"Boss," said Frank, past him, "müssen wir ihn beseitigen? [Do we need to take him out?]"
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266"Nein. Er ist vielleicht ein Schwindler aber aber er wollte nicht mit hineingezogen werden. [No. Poor kid might be a cheat but he never asked to get involved in all of this]," Jack said, shaking his head. In English so that the Running Man could hear it, he said, "Besides, she implied the technology wasn't all there yet and might actually be doing more damage than good, particularly the emotion control."
267
268"'Emotion control'? What the -"
269
270Jack cut him off with an exasperated growl.
271
272"The bad news is," he said, "you might have brain damage."
273
274"Brain damage? She said nothing about the nanomachines doing anything to my brain. Nothing."
275
276"Didn't she say anything?" Frank asked, expression laced with concern. "You know about the blood-brain barrier, right? It's long been a challenge for pharmacology, but with nanotechnology, you can disperse medication to the brain. Theoretically you could use that to alter the brain's physical functioning, for good or ill. From the sounds of things, she hasn't worked out all the bugs yet."
277
278"Did you start to feel," started Jack, "that running became your entire life?"
279
280The Running Man looked at him, and found himself beginning to laugh, despite himself.
281
282"I'm an Olympian. What's different?"
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284
285The two men left the room - first Frank, tailed by Jack. Just before Jack closed the door, he re-opened it.
286
287"Kid, before I go, I need you to take this."
288
289The Running Man took it. It was a business card, very vogueishly-designed in sharp yellow and black. Presumably whatever killing, spying, political powergaming organisation these men were involved with spent a lot on the graphics design budget.
290
291"Hide it," Jack advised. "Don't show it to her. Your life may depend upon it."
292
293"Why?"
294
295"Those details on the card will take you to one of my agents. If you ever run into trouble, get in touch with him and he'll help you out and bring you to me. This might all blow over and you'll be able to live a normal life, but if something else happens - or if you find you can't bear it - don't hesitate."
296
297The Running Man flexed the card in between his forefingers, then, thinking hard, opened his medal box and slid it under the foam. It would do for now.
298
299Jack stood in the doorframe, looking unsure what to say. Then his wrist snapped into a salute, and the Running Man looked on as he said,
300
301"You and I have a lot in common, don't forget that. Citius, altius, fortius."
302
303Then he turned, and was gone.
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306
307
308The doctor from the IOC had an uncomfortably different manner to him than the American physio had had. He spoke French with a thick Belgian accent, in the mildly irritated tone of someone who felt his patient was wasting his time. The American physio had looked upon him tenderly, in a way that first seemed like concern, but that he now knew was amusement with a pet project. 
309
310"I have to confess," he began, before he could persuade himself not to.
311
312"Confess what?"
313
314"I was doping. I achieved my victory because of doping."
315
316The doctor curled his lips. "Obviously you were. But your test was clean, so if you like I can pretend I didn't hear what you just said."
317
318"You think I haven't thought about doing this? I'm not confessing because I care about the sport. All I care about is getting to run, and if I had to get a pair of superpowered, nuclear robot legs to do it, I'd do it." He felt his eyes burning with shame. "There were intruders in my room last night - "
319
320"Even with Olympic Village security? -"
321
322"Shut up! There were intruders! I think they were spies, or soldiers - an old man and a younger guy with white hair. I think they thought about killing me."
323
324He clasped his hands together.
325
326"Doctor, you have to understand. It sounds unbelievable, but there are tiny machines swimming in my blood, right now, and they're messing with my brain, controlling my emotions - "
327
328The doctor raised his hands, and his face greyed.
329
330"Tiny machines in your blood?"
331
332"Yes. Yes, you know about it. My physiotherapist put them inside me and I want them gone. I want them gone so that she knows she can't put them in the entire world and control it."
333
334The doctor stared hard at him for a while.
335
336"Have you ever been in the public eye before?" he said, in a new tone that was superficially soft, but carried the bite of steel.
337
338 "No. No, not before this."
339
340"It's possible the stress is triggering some latent paranoid schizophrenia in you."