Rift by Richard Cox Read Free Book Online Page A

out there. By God, I’ve—
    â€œCameron, are you dressed?”
    â€œI am!”
    The door opens a moment later. Standing before me are a female transmission attendant and two familiar-looking suited men. All watch me rather quizzically, as if I’m some sort of special exhibit at the zoo.
    One of the men, the older of the two at perhaps sixty, steps toward me. His navy suit is obviously tailored and probably set him back five thousand dollars. He is taller than I am, larger, and even his smile and extended hand strike me as imposing.
    â€œMr. Fisher,” he says as we shake firmly, “I’m Stanley King, vice president of research and development for NeuroStor. Behind me is Ted Lloyd, Arizona district manager. On behalf of NeuroStor, we’d like to welcome you to Phoenix.”
    â€œThank you,” I answer. Behind them stands the transmission attendant, a short young woman who this Mr. King apparently did not find worthy of an introduction.
    â€œHow do you feel?” he asks.
    â€œGreat. I didn’t even realize it was over until she spoke to me over the intercom.” I nod in the direction of the attendant.
    â€œWonderful,” King says in a commanding baritone. “This test seems to be a success. We are most pleased.”
    â€œI should thank you for the opportunity to volunteer,” I say to him. “I think this will turn out to be one of the more important experiences of my life.”
    â€œMay I ask why?”
    â€œBecause if the technology proves to be economically feasible, I think it will revolutionize human culture. I think it has been an honor to contribute to the project in some small way.”
    â€œGood,” he says. “Very well.”
    â€œI guess it’s time to run your tests?”
    â€œOf course,” King says. “Let’s get started so you can be on your way. Mr. Lloyd, will you escort Mr. Fisher into the examination room?”
    I follow him out of the terminal and into a hallway identical to its counterpart in Houston. Now gathered in the small examination room: the two suits, the nurse (older this time, but also much thinner), and me.
    This is it, I suppose. The tests. Did I make a mistake? Will I pass, or did the transmission alter me in some way? I know I should be nervous, that everyone in this room probably expects me to be awash with fear, but again I get the feeling that something inside me has changed. Confidence has replaced doubt. Confidence that I am a man who can face the world the way I see fit, and if I choose to believe the transmission procedure sent me through intact, that is my prerogative.
    â€œHow do you feel?” the nurse asks.
    â€œFine. No different.”
    â€œDizziness, nausea, numbness or tingling in your hands or feet?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œTaste or smell anything funny?”
    â€œNo. At least not now.”
    â€œWhat do you mean by ‘not now’?”
    â€œWell, in the transmission portal—when the scan began, I guess—I smelled something a little strange. It was kind of a sweet smell, like air freshener for your car.”
    King looks up as I mention this, and then glances at Lloyd, the district manager.
    â€œDo you smell it now?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI’ll make a note of it in the report.”
    â€œIs that something you expected?”
    The nurse shakes her head. “You’re the first volunteer I’ve examined. I wouldn’t know.”
    I look wordlessly to King for an answer. He offers nothing, but the look he gave Lloyd certainly didn’t appear to be nothing.
    We work through the physical exam, and vindication surges through me as the results appear to be the same as before. My balance is still fine, my tactile sensations, and all the rest. She runs through the vision examination next, and again I don’t notice any change compared to before the transmission.
    â€œWhat do you think?” I ask. “Any