Forever Pleasure: A Utopian Novel

Prologue

The last flicker of displeasure and ignorance.

Jeso scanned the bridge of the La Ĉielo, his vintage spaceship, first to spread the pleasure-seeking cause. Now it was just a ceremonial vessel to save the last planet of misguided beings.

The last flicker.

From the deck of the bridge, he watched the blue oceans of a terrestrial planet expand into view. His spaceship settled into the glowing darkness of high orbit. Jeso was immersed in the data from his remote sensors, as was most of the local universe.

They ran off, missing all the fun. Jeso stomped his foot to the floor. The impact echoed behind him, trailing off in the long stern of his spaceship. He usually enjoyed hearing the last dying echoes reverberating in deep tones. Not this day.

Jeso had to locate them or the beach parties would be cancelled. His comrades had planned hard for these celebrations—on every inhabitable star system, in every galaxy.

From his rigid posture at the forward window, he saw nothing but the aqua blue waters of their home planet. The glistening oceans were freckled with hundreds of deep green islands, their sandy shores not quite visible. Conditions were perfect, excellent for water recreation. This made him feel unpleasant. There was no time for fun; he had to focus his mental processes on locating a whole planet of beings.

But how?

Then Jeso noticed occasional flashes of metallic materials from above the clouds, abandoned space platforms, thousands of them. Most were decaying in their orbits; he calculated that they had been uninhabited for almost six years. The boomerang-shaped shadow of his spaceship floated atop the white clouds. Obviously the only way to move an entire planet’s population was by spaceship.

With our superior technology, Roda Xrani used to brag on their radio transmissions to neighboring star systems, we can reach light speed in fourteen hours.

Star system now conquered and converted by Jeso and his cause.

The Roda Xrani now had a six-year head start. Approximately 6.6 days of space travel for the La Ĉielo.

The idea of a chase excited Jeso. This would be the final chase, the final conversion. Jeso remapped his mechatronic brain so his surface sensors could elicit greater positive emotions. He searched his memory for events that brought the most joyful feelings and emotions appropriate for the long 6.6-day chase. Millenniums ago, he mused, I’d just play music.

Those memories, he yelled openly.

He replayed the first memory and it came sharply into focus.

It was almost three millenniums ago, when he first built La Ĉielo. He remembered giving it its boomerang shape and the curved front window on the bridge. It seemed funny now, but at the time, he’d wanted to be close enough to feel the excitement of the alien species as they were converted.

The core of the spaceship was his favorite technology, the two million megasize transdimensional assemblers and disassemblers. There was enough capacity to provide relief services for an entire overcrowded, overpopulated planet. The ship also sported city-sized Heim engines, six of them, for speeds far faster than light.

Jeso impulsively ran into the adjoining engine room. There, he slid his diamond-fiber fingers over the smooth casing of a towering Heim engine. The feelings and emotions began to replay perfectly, like it was three millenniums ago.

He was ready. His mental link commanded his classic, now-ceremonial spaceship in the direction of their faint particle trail. With an explosion of infrared light, his spaceship created an interdimensional opening to parallel space and entered it, reaching 330 times the speed of light. The vibration and crackle of the six Heim engines made his diamond-fiber surface tingle like a biological boy’s.

It became obvious to Jeso that the Roda Xrani had headed north from their home planet, deep into the chilling dark of the nearby Northern Local Supervoid. Their simple emotions drove them to hide in this colossal region of space, nearly devoid of galaxies, stars, and usable energy, except for feeble energy imbalances in the quantum vacuum. That’s probably how they have the energy to keep running. If only they’d waited for me, Jeso thought, we’d be on their home planet surfing now.

It had taken 7.8 days to find the Roda Xrani. That was 1.2 days too long for Jeso, stuck with sensory-impoverished replays of emotional good times.

The thought of another day in this supervoid made his pleasure processors freeze over. Moving quickly, he energized his transdimensional assemblers and disassemblers, all two million of them. The ship filled with an electric discharge, leaving a violet glow on the bridge. The odor of ozone surrounded him, a sign of the pending conversion.

Jeso ran across the slick floor of the bridge—if you call it a bridge: no crew, no instruments, just a colossal window. He loved sliding up to the window on one knee, with his arms outstretched, just before his spaceship dropped on unsuspecting species who had been bragging about their superior technology.

His ship slowed from superluminal velocity, from 330 times light speed to only a few thousand kilometers per second. The refugee spaceship barely glistened in the coal blackness of this supervoid.

How funny, he thought, their ship is shaped like a flat square sheet of carbon, stealth black and large enough to serve a terrestrial planet on. It was clever of them to set the ship on edge, a futile attempt to conceal themselves from me.

Strategic information flowed from his ship into his mind, How incredibly cute, he squeaked out loud. They’re hiding behind a spinning W- particle shield, just a weak nuclear force field. Jeso’s thoughts directed his spaceship to disable it with a vintage weapon.

I love this part. His voice echoed across the empty bridge. Jeso commanded a single transdimensional disassembler to transport himself to the Roda Xrani ship, and he disappeared in a blaze of tiny colors. He left the La Ĉielo with the sounds of its Heim engines still whirling in the dead of the supervoid.

#

There it goes. In the unfathomable blackness of the Northern Local Supervoid, a brilliant purple light expanded for several seconds, leaving yellow trails of debris behind. Laudz, the research director, spread his gray blue fingers across a display, and then clenched his fist. It was Vacuum-Energy Collector number three. He watched as the remaining two kilometers of superstructure broke free of their spaceship and floated away against the faint starlight of their home galaxy.

We’re vulnerable on the bridge, but at least everyone else is protected, said Julet, the civilization director, stepping back as the ultraviolet radiation collided against the huge window, which turned bronze as it absorbed the radiation. Her heart sank at the brief realization it might be an attack, but her mind quickly went into denial. Was it another malfunction?

The technician sighed. No. It appears to be a coordinated attack by a swarm of centimeter-long needles carrying nanodisassemblers. Our instruments can’t detect such small projectiles until after the fact.

It’s them. The words seemed to flow like a cold breeze from Julet’s lips. Who else would pursue us six light-years into the supervoid and then attack? She wiped the yellow sulfide moisture from her gray blue forehead.

I don’t understand them, Laudz yelled. "They conquered every star system in our galaxy. And yet they pursue us, to get what, seven billion of us, or steal our obviously inferior technology? What the helex do they want?" His words echoed everyone’s feelings.

Here they come, said the technician, looking up from the display. It’s appearing directly in front of us. He traced its black shape against the blackness of the void. It’s thirty-eight kilometers wide, thirteen kilometers deep, and only two kilometers high. It appears to have been traveling at superluminal velocity. He wiped his forehead and ran his shaking fingers hard through his dark gray hair.

A blur of tiny colors appeared in front of Julet, and she jumped back, as the fear welled up inside of her. "What the helex? It took on a startling one-meter-high form with an indigo coloring. The thing rested one knee on the floor and spread its four arms wide. "Bonvenon al la Hedonisma Vastigo." It shouted those unrecognizable words with a friendly but unsettling voice.

#

Jeso rose from his knee. It’s just a tradition. It’s an old intergalactic language, and it means ‘Welcome to the Hedonistic Expansion.’

"You speak Roda Xrani, said a female, raising her eyebrows and brushing her slate blue hair from her beautiful gray blue eyes. I’m Julet. And you’re the robot messenger of doom?"

Not a robot. I’m a pleasure machine. Jeso folded his lower arms and drummed his fingers against the upper portion of his pole-shaped arms. I was like you, all biological and emotionally primitive. With scientific knowledge, I found the courage to transfer the mathematical description of my identity into this perfect mechanical body. He stepped closer and posed with two arms way behind his pole body and two arms resting on his hip joints. Everyone moved back, except for Julet. She’s the leader, Jeso surmised. With this flawless body I can experience immense feeling of recreational pleasure.

For a moment there was only silence, until a male stepped forward. I’m Laudz. So what’s this mean to us, in your Hedonistic Expansion? His voice was harsh.

To become like me and have continuous ecstasy. Jeso’s rectangular sensors scanned his audience. At least until the last stars burn out, in a hundred trillion years.

Gritting his teeth, Laudz pulled some kind of weapon from his holster and aimed it directly at Jeso’s headless body. "I’m not giving up my biological body. I want fun too, but I also like to breathe, eat, make love, and do fulfilling work. Phaki helex if I’ll live eternity as a rod-shaped robot." The pure tone of his weapon rang out briefly, and then Laudz faded away in a blur of tiny colors. Jeso’s transdimensional disassemblers had done their job.

Julet gasped, You killed him, you mechanical freak!

I saved him. Jeso pointed to where Laudz had last stood. I merely had him dissassembled atom by atom, derived his mathematical essence, and finally, transformed those equations to best fit a hedonic identity. Later I’ll transfer his new identity into a pleasure machine. Jeso spun around and tap-danced on the floor. Then we’ll go parasailing together on a tropical sea.

Julet gasped and grabbed her face. That’s my fate?

Precisely! The Hedonistic Expansion has converted every technology-possessing species in the Virgo Supercluster. You’re the last of 52,549 galaxies and over ten trillion star systems.

She changed to a lighter shade of bluish gray. This is completely insane.

Enough talk, let’s go have some fun. Jeso raised his upper arms in a dramatic gesture. He sent thought commands through his full union with the transdimensional machinery, and a violet glow formed about his rodlike torso. With that, all seven billion beings aboard the gargantuan ship blurred into a multitude of colors, the usual screams echoing throughout the ship.

Every being in our Virgo Supercluster—no one’s been spared? Julet asked. Those were her last words before she disappeared into a mathematical identity stored safely aboard Jeso’s spaceship.

Three thousand years, and it’s finally ended. Jeso fell to his knees and reached up to his rectangular sensors. The entire Virgo Supercluster is pleasure oriented. He tap-danced across the empty control room.

But Julet’s statement chipped away at his peak ecstasy. He stopped and rubbed his indigo surface, deep in thought. He’d never quite liked it, that M31 Group of Galaxies Accord. Just because it’s our origin, why should those galaxies be excluded from enormous fun? he wondered. Unintentionally, Julet had been right—why not everyone?

He thought logically and emotionally for a long fourteen milliseconds. If it wasn’t for M31’s rejection of our hedonic science and technologies, they wouldn’t all be ignorant of what pleasure they’re missing.

Jeso leaned back against the window and patted it with his four hands as he thought. I couldn’t possibly confront the M31 Defense Network. Not to mention the seven hundred million spaceships and smaller spacecrafts of the Hedonistic Expansion, who support this childish accord.

Jeso found himself focusing on the emptiness of the supervoid, trying to suppress memories of his biological past life.

What if I continued to develop my dimensional physics theories? Maybe I could use it to step around the armadas, before they existed. He calculated for a moment. Yes! With a lot of careful planning, the opposition could even be converted to enthusiastically support me. In theory, no one could stop me from converting everyone in M31, including Earth, into pleasure machines.

Chapter 1

Friday, June 6, AD 1986

Hey stud! Like, what’s taking so long? said a deep masculine voice that was followed by some feminine laughter.

John’s head shot around to those familiar green eyes. God, it’s just you. He held his pounding heart. I thought you were Dr. Wang. He’s always checking to see that I’m working. He shook his head. You scared the crap out of me.

Another pine needle dropped on his strawberry blond hair; he yanked it off. Last thing I expected is seeing you up here in Yosemite. He then noticed her voluminous hair and short black dress. Look at you.

She grinned. I had my hair layered, including my bangs. Then they curled and teased it to make me hot.

Wow! If you get lucky, you might get a date with Dr. Wang or some of the engineering grad students.

Ya think so? She batted her eyes. I’m actually here to schmooze Senator Bockmier. Kayla propped up a large pinecone on the ground. We desperately need funds for our new psychology clinic. I’m tired of treating pregnant students in my cramped office. She placekicked the pinecone and nearly cleared a diesel generator, banging its seven-foot-high radiator. Almost! Her eyes darted to the observation trailer, where Dr. Wang was standing in the window, looking around. She crouched and lowered her voice. And hopefully save your butt from budget cuts, in case this experiment goes belly-up.

He scooted around to face her on the loose pine needles, raising a hand to block the summer sun. Great, just when I’m hopelessly saving for a house, I lose my job.

With his stomach in knots, he went back to connecting the pile of high-current-carrying electrical cables. G4 to B4, he muttered.

Cheer up, man. You can continue living with me. I won’t kick my only brother in the gutter. Kayla forced a laugh, but he didn’t respond. On top of her low blood sugar, the high altitude was making her light-headed and almost giddy. Did you bring some munchies? She leaned on his shoulder and thrust a hand into his backpack, rummaging around. I’ll need a clear mind when I chat up the senator.

John lifted his canteen.

Thanks. Kayla took a swig.

Aw! Hideous. Kayla frowned. Unfiltered apple juice. I hope you don’t offer this nasty shit to your dates.

He looked down to his work, not saying a word.

She knew she must have hit a nerve. But being his psychologist sister, she had the right to probe deeper. Hey, how’s Ashley?

Ashley’s okay. He looked up. If you like breast implants, her bright gold tooth, and the fumigation.

Not again, Kayla thought. It was his sexual fixation on natural women, which had grown over the last six years to exaggerated heights. This was the result of their late parents’ legacy, aging flower children, who got high on Mother Nature. Yeah, Ashley’s perfume’s to the max. But you know, breast implants boost a low self-image, and what’s the harm?

No thanks.

What about your last girlfriend, that brunette?

Terry.

Yeah, Terry doesn’t wear makeup, and she digs your strawberry-blond hair. Kayla teased his hair a little and escaped to the shade of a pine tree. She’s cool.

She’s really built, and a real tease like you. But she wears these butt-ugly blue contacts, and she has this stupid butch haircut. He pulled hard on the water-cooled power lines with a deep sigh. I’d just once like to meet a natural woman. Zero makeup, no dye jobs, and no fake body parts.

Kayla kneeled next to him and leaned on his shoulder. You narrow your scope too much. Quit looking for women that could be ’60s flower children. It’s the ’80s, and you’re only twenty-three—get something fresh, man!

He inhaled deeply and turned his green eyes to her. All right, I’ll mention how awesome her brown eyes are, and how great she’d look with long, straight hair. John’s face reddened some. He gripped two power lines and slammed them together with a loud snap.

Please find someone normal, Kayla thought, instead of a flea-bitten hippie.

Barreling down the mountain fire road, a Land Rover’s engine revved loudly, and the Rover slid to a stop in a cloud of dust. Kayla’s heart jumped. Oh man, he’s here. She stood and straightened her royal blue pantsuit. It’s showtime. She exhaled unevenly. Wish me luck.

The door creaked open and out stepped a tall, strong man in blue jeans and a white dress shirt.

Kayla lowered her V-neck top and fluffed the curls of her long reddish blonde hair. Just in case her rhetoric didn’t work.

He opened the back car door and out stepped a short, bald man in a well-pressed gray suit.

Senator Bockmier. She stepped up onto a tree stump. I’m Dr. Seeger. The chancellor asked me to show you around the project.

The senator was looking down, shaking his left leg. What a long 180 miles. My damn foot’s asleep. He glanced up at Kayla. Whoa! she heard him say under his breath.

He stood up straight and seemed to grow taller with his grin. What a gorgeous physicist. Why aren’t you pale and flat … haired? He chuckled a little and limped forward. You may call me Chris, he said, extending a warm handshake.

I’m Kayla. Actually I’m a clinical psychologist. Chancellor Reed thought I might be a better communicator than Dr. Wang.

He seemed to be trying to suppress his grin. I underestimated the chancellor, he whispered. Could I have your professional opinion, Doc?

About what?

Do you think its nuts spending millions from a shrinking budget on a ‘window of time’ that produces nothing practical? Frankly, many in Congress are tired of the lack of progress that this project has shown after four years of funding.

It was her first time as a lobbyist, and her mind had gone completely blank. Luckily, her ability to adlib kicked in from out of nowhere. Send them to me. I’ll treat their oppositional behaviors. She detached and lifted her silver wristwatch. Look into my green eyes, Senator. She swung it back and forth, suppressing her urge to laugh. You’ll fund the chance to measure what could be called ‘the depth of a clock’s tick.’ It will resolve the lack of agreement on the true structure of time. Some theorize that the ticks of a clock come into existence as time flows forward, leaving in the wake of the present a trail of ticks stretching back to the creation of the universe. She could only laugh inside, listening to herself recite the well-practiced speech. Others hold that the ticks of tomorrow are there all along, frozen like ice crystals on the surface of a four-dimensional universe, the arrow of time being just an illusion. This experiment is expected to answer this pervasive question. She began to feel her face warm and lost track of her thoughts.

He stepped closer, without smiling. You say depth?

Yes. Kayla blew on her sweaty palms and plowed on. Today’s experiment will use three times the electromagnetic energy of previous attempts. It’s hoped that we’ll be able to explore those dark hidden places in the depths of time … Her cheeks flushed even more, and she placed her hands across her face. Sorry.

The senator stepped even closer and lowered her hands. Almost had me hypnotized. Kinda lost me with the philosophy of time, though. He shot his hand over his head.

She smiled. Actually my blood sugar’s too high. Would you mind excusing me for just a minute?

He smiled and waved her on.

Kayla headed toward her brother but looked over her shoulder for a moment. If you’d like to see the control room, go on in. I’ll be right there. She turned back to John and gestured for him to look around. Did you see my handbag?

John lifted her handbag high and rolled his eyes.

Be nice. She wished he’d quit teasing her about misplacing things. She had a lot on her mind—house, patients, and now lobbying. Biting the straps of her shoulder bag, she dug to the bottom with both hands.

Did you forget again? he asked, handing her a packaged syringe from his backpack.

No! Kayla unwrapped the syringe, filled it, and injected herself.

She saw her brother smile and shake his head. Shut up! Okay, I forgot. She leaned her head back with a long exhale. Like you’re totally perfect. Who forgets my birthday every year? Do you even know what day it is?

She could see his mind race, go on, name the month?

Umm, I was reading that BHT, you know the food preservative, delays diabetic complications. It prevents glycosylation crosslinking of proteins in rats. You oughta try it—being a political rat and all. He paused, August fifteenth.

Ha! You missed it by a month. She saw the deep furrows between his eyebrows, "I’ll check out the BHT when I’m less stressed. I wish he’d find a cure with all the research he does. Then he’d stop worring over me. God! She squeezed his shoulder. I almost spazzed in front of him."

You did it again. John said with a smirk on his face.

Kayla smiled. She was always picking up slang from her teenage patients. Remembering her job there, she sped back to the senator. She stepped up behind him and took a deep breath. I’ll do fine, she told herself.

Dr. Wang was pointing out the trailer window at the twelve-foot-high, bulging X. It’s the centipede of our experiment, he said proudly. He was wearing his shrunken Berkeley Physics T-shirt. It’s called the Impulse Electromagnetic Time-Dilation Scope. It weighs about eleven tons. Dr. Wang waved for Kayla as he continued. The basic principle behind the obstetrician of the scope can be understood by thinking of the scope’s chamber as a four-dimensional object. The pap we see is a three-dimensional cross section moving through time.

You use centipedes and an obstetrician? And whose pap are we looking at? Kayla saw the senator’s forehead wrinkled; she knew Wang’s English could be challenging. She stepped up, her adrenaline pumping. The senator’s eyes shot up to hers and his smile exploded.

Dr. Wang means ‘part we see.’ She faked a smile back. "Actually Senator, or Chris, movement in time would be movement along the dimension of time. Utilizing this idea, the scope is constructed so electromagnetic pulses bombard the 3-D chamber to form a 4-D hole. Then instruments collect subatomic particles from the fourth dimension—in other words, the past or the future. From this data, we’ll determine if the future is open, our lives freely rafting in time, or fixed and invariant, our past and future being a timeless four-dimensional object, movement being nothing but a smeared blur on a cosmic photographic plate. The senator listened intensely, though she knew he was mostly observing her cleavage. Our thoughts and dreams may be mere frozen impulses on a flowing stream of time—"

Enough! You’ve sold me. The senator surprised Kayla by taking her hands. I’m not up on science, but you’ve sold me with your enticing presentation. I’ll vote for extending the funds if you’d do me just one tiny favor.

Please don’t ask me on a date, Kayla thought. I won’t pimp myself, not even for the pregnant students, not even for John’s future. What kind of favor? She forced a smile.

It would benefit us both if you could accompany me next Saturday to a fundraiser in Sacramento. I urgently need your psychological persuasion to help me raise campaign money for reelection. There’ll be congressmen, commissioners, big money, and the usual fun crowd.

I’d love to. She said it so easily. She’d