Ophelia

Chapter 1 - Ophelia awakens-2

The vehicle turned a corner and entered a narrow lane, meandering through the fields of yellow crop. On either side, the rapeseed flowers were so tall they almost occluded the sky. And they were so close, Ophelia felt she could have reached out and touched them. The stamens were as long her fingers and covered with pollen which, she knew, meant more biofuel for everyone.

Suddenly, the vehicle reached the end of the lane and the fields curved away. Gaia took it straight ahead, onto an open patch of barren dirt containing nothing but an ugly gray building.

‘Surely this isn’t it,’ said Ophelia.

But when the vehicle stopped, about 10 meters from the front door, Ophelia realized, with a sinking heart, this was indeed the cancer care centre.

‘We have arrived at our destination,’ said Gaia, opening the door. ‘Please alight with care.’

Ophelia stepped outside. Despite the harsh sunlight, she felt the bliss of fresh air. She inhaled deeply and wondered what it would feel like to stroll through one of the distant fields. But that question was answered as soon as she saw one of Gaia’s bug-like drones patrolling the crop. She had heard the rural drones were even more aggressive than the ones in town, so she dismissed the idea, stepped over to the building and pressed her palm against the gel pad at its centre.

‘Welcome, Ophelia Alsop,’ said Gaia, as the door opened.

Ophelia could see she was the only person inside. For a moment, her legs felt as though they were going to run her out of the place. She had always hated printed buildings. There was something about their lack of permanency and authenticity that gave her the creeps. And the fact that this one was surrounded by fields, without another person in sight, only added to her discomfort.

The building was hexagonal-shaped; a trendy salute to the bees that had once lived. Each of the 6 walls were covered with a complex array of electronics. Blue, green and yellow lights blinked sporadically. Bird song chimed from the speakers and a holographic projection of starlings flew across the ceiling.

‘Please turn left and face the first wall,’ said Gaia.

Ophelia did so, and found herself standing on a white pad, approximately 60 centimeters square. It displayed her height and weight in black digits, for just a moment, then disappeared.

‘Scan commencing,’ said Gaia.

A steel arm protruded from the wall above Ophelia’s head. It shone a bright turquoise light directly onto her scalp, then encased her body, spiraling around her for several seconds.

‘Scan complete,’ said Gaia, retracting the arm to the wall.

Another arm unfolded, holding a tiny pair of tweezers.

‘Please remove one of the hairs from your head and place it between these pincers,’ said Gaia.

‘But you already have my DNA,’ Ophelia replied.

‘That is correct, but I must cross-match a current sample with my records before I make your treatment,’ said Gaia.

Ophelia did as she was told then watched the arm return to the wall. The wall sealed behind it, leaving no visible sign of the opening.

‘What’s the sample for?’ she asked.

‘Your DNA will be used to make your chemotherapy,’ Gaia replied. ‘It will be dispensed in your home later this evening for you to take with your evening meal. Please go to the next station.’

Ophelia stepped toward the next wall and its visual display unit blinked, as though acknowledging her presence. A second later, it displayed an image of her face, neck and shoulders.

‘It is time for you to select your preferred wig,’ said Gaia.

‘Why did a need a wig?’ Ophelia asked.

‘The side effects of the chemotherapy include hair loss,’ Gaia replied.

‘Really, Gaia?’ Ophelia said. ‘Despite all your clever technology, are you really telling me the chemotherapy will have such side effects? Can’t you do any better than that?’

‘The loss will begin within a week of commencing chemotherapy,’ Gaia replied.

‘As if I haven’t experienced enough loss already,’ Ophelia muttered. ‘When will my hair grow back?’

‘Approximately one month after completing the course of treatment,’ Gaia replied.

‘And when will that be?’ Ophelia asked.

‘That information is not yet available,’ said Gaia

‘Why do I even need chemotherapy?’ Ophelia asked, aware she was attempting to bargain her way out of the entire treatment regime. ‘I mean, my womb was removed, along with the so-called tumor inside it, so why do I need chemotherapy?’

‘It is a prophylactic measure, to ensure cancer does not spread to other parts of your body,’ Gaia replied. ‘I will monitor your recovery at weekly meetings like this one until I am certain it is safe for you to stop taking the chemotherapy.’

Ophelia touched the screen in front of her. A circle, comprising the entire RGB color system, appeared. As she stared at it, she considered her lifelong dislike of her wild mop of curly black hair. Against her porcelain white skin and ruddy cheeks, she had often thought she looked like a circus clown. But she loved her emerald green eyes, so she selected the same color for her wig.

‘Your wig will be ready for you before you leave today,’ said Gaia. ‘Please go to the next station.’

Ophelia stepped toward the display screen on the next wall. There was a small chair facing it, so she sat upon it and stared at the screen. It changed color, from a deep indigo to a soft cornflower blue. Then the face of Gaia appeared. It was very pale female face with dramatize black makeup over its eyes and black hair pulled severely off its face. Ophelia had seen it many times before.

‘Hello, Ophelia,’ it said with a pleasant smile.

Ophelia attempted to smile but failed.

‘I must ask you some questions,’ said Gaia.

Ophelia nodded, aware of the need to appear compliant.

‘How are you feeling?’ Gaia asked.

‘I already told you, in the car, how I’m feeling,’ Ophelia replied. ‘I’m extremely upset that my womb was removed without my consent and I’m even more upset about the loss of my baby!’

‘Your tone is hostile,’ said Gaia. ‘Hormonal dysfunction can be expected during the next few months so I will mix an antipsychotic agent with your chemotherapy.’

Ophelia felt rage and despair return to fight another battle inside her.

‘How is your relationship with your husband?’ Gaia asked.

‘Gaia, I already told you in the car!’ Ophelia protested. ‘My marriage is private. I don’t wish to discuss it with you!’

The main door slid open and another woman entered. Relieved to no longer be the only human in the building, Ophelia smiled and waved. The woman waved back then stepped under the turquoise light of Gaia’s scanner.

‘I require your attention,’ said Gaia.

‘Sorry,’ Ophelia replied, reminding herself of the importance of compliance with the machine’s requirements.

‘Do you and your husband plan to engage the services of a surrogate soon?’ Gaia asked.

‘Gaia, you already know the answer to that question, too,’ said Ophelia. ‘I do not approve of surrogacy. How many times have I told you that?’

‘Please answer the question,’ Gaia insisted.

‘Gaia, you have just asked me the same three questions that you asked me in the car,’ Ophelia whined. ‘Are you expecting different answers from me just because I’m inside this building? Or are you malfunctioning?’

‘I am functioning in accordance with algorithmic requirements,’ Gaia replied.

‘I don’t think you are,’ Ophelia argued.

‘You may change your mind about the surrogacy option,’ said Gaia. ‘If so, please be assured that your ova are still in good condition.’

For the first time in over a decade, Ophelia reflected on the mandatory collection of gametes during her final year of high school. Even back then, she had gone through the harvesting procedure without taking it too seriously because she had been happy in her delusion that she would one day carry her own baby inside her own body.

She had also scoffed when she and Peter had received their Certificate of Creation of Life which had arrived a few days after they had received their Certificate of Marriage. The thought of authorizing Gaia to insert the fused cells of herself and her husband into a surrogate’s body had been utterly preposterous to Ophelia at the time, but it raised a question for her, now.

‘Gaia, when you joined my husband’s cell with my own, what did you do with them?’ she asked. ‘Or should I say, it?’

‘The correct term for an ovum that has been fertilized by a sperm is a zygote,’ Gaia replied. ‘I can confirm that your zygote was placed in cryostasis, as per the normal procedure for newly married couples.’

‘Is that when you sent us the Certificate of Creation of Life?’ Ophelia asked.

‘That is correct.’

‘Now that my marriage is over, what will become of my zygote?’ Ophelia asked.

‘It is not your zygote,’ Gaia replied. ‘It belongs to you and your husband and will therefore remain in cryostasis until the lawful dissolution of your marriage. After that, it will be destroyed.’

‘Another murder, hey?’ Ophelia snarled.

‘Please go to the nutrition station,’ said Gaia.

Ophelia stepped toward the sustenance bay on the next wall and stared into the empty bay until a glass of dark green liquid appeared.

‘What’s this?’ she asked.

‘It resembles the juice of spinach, kale and orange,’ Gaia replied.

Ophelia sipped it.

‘Oh, it’s quite nice.’

‘Please indicate your food color preference,’ said Gaia.

‘Green,’ Ophelia replied.

A cube of green substance appeared on a plate at the bottom of the bay. Ophelia pinched off a piece and put it in her mouth. It tasted like the soya and mycoprotein combination that Gaia always used to make mushroom frittata, one of Ophelia’s favorite meals.

She took her food and drink to the next wall which, to her relief, had no screen or blinking lights, just a few lounge chairs in front of it. When she sat down, the chair warmed up and its padding shifted to accommodate the precise shape of her body. And when Ophelia lifted her feet off the floor, the chair tilted back, producing a padded shelf for her feet. Another shelf appeared at her side, upon which she placed her food and drink.

‘I really should get one of these chairs,’ she muttered to herself.

Almost fully reclined, she stared at the ceiling and watched the display of the starlings in flight. Mesmerized by their formation, she failed to notice the arrival of the other woman.

‘Ophelia, please meet Viola,’ said Gaia.

‘Oh, hi!’ Ophelia replied, sitting up.

‘Lovely choice of color,’ said Viola, pointing to Ophelia’s food.

‘Thanks,’ Ophelia replied with a soft laugh.

‘Ophelia had endometrial cancer,’ said Gaia. ‘Viola had breast cancer. Please discuss.’

Viola rolled her eyes and shook her head.

‘Thanks, Gaia,’ said Ophelia. ‘We’ll wait until we’ve finished eating before we get into the awful details.’

‘This is your support group discussion,’ said Gaia. ‘I am here to facilitate.’

‘I know,’ said Ophelia. ‘Just give us a few moments.’

Another woman arrived.

‘I just chose a long pink wig,’ she giggled.

‘Ophelia and Viola, please meet Portia,’ said Gaia. ‘I will now facilitate your support group discussion about your cancer.’

Portia’s face creased into an incredulous smile and Viola rolled her eyes again. Then, for the first time in a long time, Ophelia sniggered. It was not a laugh, but as close to a laugh as she had come during the previous few weeks.

‘I am here to facilitate your support group discussion,’ said Gaia.

‘What exactly are you expecting us to say, Gaia?’ asked Viola.

‘I will now facilitate your discussion about your cancer,’ Gaia repeated.

Ophelia could see the other two women were as baffled by Gaia’s behavior as she was.

‘Are you malfunctioning, Gaia?’ asked Portia.

‘I am functioning in accordance with algorithmic requirements,’ Gaia replied.

But still, The Gaia Machine said nothing to facilitate the discussion, so Ophelia decided to break the ice.