Then new horrors found us. The people we hoped would help shield us, exposed us. The gene that ran through Zen’s blood turned on him. Our serenity became a nightmare in the blink of an eye.
I’d like to think that maybe we could have done things differently. Maybe if my abilities hadn’t been revealed, maybe if I’d been able to find a cure for Zen’s illness and bring it back to him here, maybe if I had never met Kaelen, never learned about the Providence from Dr. Maxxer, never watched so many innocent people die, then we would have been able to stay. Our fantasy of spending the rest of our lives together buried in the past might have lasted.
I know that’s only wishful thinking. I know that five hundred years in the future, there are problems that won’t simply go away. There’s a corporation wreaking havoc on people’s lives, and there are souls that died because I couldn’t stop it from happening.
There is one battle I still have to fight. There is a monster I still have to destroy. And I have to do it in the present. In the time where I belong. I can’t keep running away and disappearing into the past. The past is not where this war will be won.
I know Zen will hate what I’m about to do. I know he would never approve of me doing it alone. But alone is the only option.
Carefully, I remove his arm from my body and sit up. I pull the injector from my pocket and secure the first vial I brought into its reservoir.
He doesn’t flinch even when the pressure of the tip pinches his skin.
I wait for the drug to enter his system. For his sleep to become deep and dreamless. The Releaser works better on him than it ever did on me.
When I’m sure that he won’t wake, I wrap my hand around his and I take us back. Back to reality. Back to the present.
The bed in Zen’s tent creaks as our weight materializes upon it. I close my eyes and count to ten while the dizziness and nausea subside. Then I remove the second vial. The one I stole from the Medical Sector before I came here.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him as I attach the vial to the injector and position the tip against his vein again. “We can’t travel the universe forever. Sooner or later, we have to come home.”
I release the serum that will repress his transession gene, save his life once again, and turn time back into a highway.
Like it is for everyone else.
I bend down and brush my lips against his, stealing one last kiss. From my pocket, I withdraw the small silver cube drive. There was a time when Zen buried it deep within the earth with a message for me to find. With a promise to return to me. Now it’s my turn to leave something for him.
I place the cube in his palm and close his warm fingers around it. Slowly and carefully, I trace the symbol of our eternal knot across his hand and the tops of his knuckles. Once, twice, again.
Two hearts, forever intersected. In a loop that never ends.
“Fall in love with me in a different world,” I whisper.
And then I vanish.
I can’t stay. I was never meant to stay.
70
LEGEND
Once upon a time, there was a brilliant scientist named Dr. Rylan Maxxer. She discovered that human beings could travel through time and space with a single tweak to their DNA. A transession gene.
But she was convinced that the people who hired her to develop this gene would use it for the wrong purposes. So she injected herself with her creation and disappeared into the past. That’s when she stumbled upon a secret organization called the Providence: a collection of the most powerful people on the planet. A secret society that has been around for centuries. Their number one priority has always been to maintain control over the human race and keep the power in their own hands.
At one point, not so long ago, when they felt that control might be slipping, they invested in a small biotechnology company called Diotech. Although Diotech launched many important experiments, the Providence really only cared about one.
The Genesis Project.
The creation of two superior life-forms that would serve as promotional tools for a new line of genetic modifications to be released into the marketplace. Little does the public know, the enhancements will do more than just enhance. They will control. The injections will be laced with undetectable stimulated-response systems that can be activated whenever the Providence wants. Humankind manipulated at the touch of a button.
This is the story Dr. Maxxer told me when I was brought to her submarine in the year 2032.
This is the story she devoted her life to.
And for the past year I’ve believed it was exactly that—a story.
The rantings of a lunatic.
What do I believe now? I’m not sure. I know that Diotech is not what it seems. I know that Dr. Alixter has lied to me, manipulated me, and used me in a game bigger than what I can see.
When I think back to everything that’s happened over the last few weeks, crucial moments stand out more prominently than the rest.
Dr. Alixter’s mysterious conversation in the early morning.
Dr. Maxxer’s death in the year 2032.
Countless reports of people who suffered at the hands of a corporation that has somehow always managed to be vindicated from the consequences of their mistakes.
Seemingly protected by an invisible, all-powerful entity.
If I list the evidence I have, the truth is almost obvious.
The Providence is real.
They are out there. They are watching. They are maneuvering us like pieces on a chessboard.
But I still don’t know for certain. I still have never seen them with my own eyes. Never heard their voices with my own ears. All I’ve witnessed is the destruction others claim was left behind by their hands.
If this organization is as secretive, as unknowable, and as powerful as Dr. Maxxer says it is, then I may never have the ultimate proof that it exists.
It’s something I have to choose to believe.
Or not.
Dr. Maxxer died trying to track down the Providence. Trying to destroy them. But how do you destroy an enemy you can’t see? How do you defeat a monster that has the ability to hide in plain sight?
The answer is you don’t. You can’t.
The only thing you can hope to do is take away its power. Take away its fuel. Figure out what it feeds on and obliterate it.
Then maybe it will die in the very place it’s been hiding.
* * *
When I open my eyes, I see my own face. It’s staring back at me from a large ReflectoGlass. At first, I don’t recognize it. The eyes are too old. The mouth is too stern. The posture is too upright.
But there’s really no mistaking that it’s me.
Behind me is a rackful of dresses and pantsuits. A wall of dazzling custom-cut and nanostitched fabrics. In front of me, on a long tabletop, is a collection of beauty enhancers. Creamy skin ointments, nanoconcealers, and vivid eye tints.
I am inside a dressing room.
It belongs to the woman who is sitting in the nearby chair, reading a Slate.
She startles when she sees me. As I expected. I’m not sure she’ll ever understand how I magically appeared in front of her without ever touching the door.
“Sera,” she says, recognizing me immediately. “What are you doing here?”
I step toward her, keeping my shoulders back and my confidence high. “I want to go back on the Feed. Today. Right now.”
She laughs like this is all a big prank that someone put me up to. “Okay. Do you have more to say about Diotech?”
I don’t join in on her laughter even though every single one of my uploads on social etiquette tells me it’s the appropriate thing to do. “Yes, Mosima.” I pronounce her name with purpose. With conviction. “I have a lot more to say about Diotech.”
71
LIGHT
“We’re live in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6…” Seres’s accented voice slips into my ear as the hovercams whiz above my head. Right now they’re all pointed at Mosima, who has promised
to introduce me. Soon, they will be turned to me. They will be feedcasting my face to the nation. They will be transmitting my story.
My true story.
Not the one Diotech made up to fool the nation. Not the one Dane softened and polished to help improve my likability. I don’t give a flux who likes me anymore. And I have a feeling no one will like me after they hear what I have to say.
“5, 4, 3…”
Just like during my previous appearance on the segment, the last two seconds are omitted, but the lamps and cams don’t appear to need them. And neither does Mosima. The light directly in front of her flicks on and illuminates her warm, shining face to the world.
“Welcome to The Morning Beat on AFC Streamwork, your number one source for breaking news and real-time world updates. I’m Mosima Chan.”
She pauses as the cams navigate around her, finding her from another angle. I wait in the darkness with my heart in my throat.
“We have a special guest this morning. An unexpected special guest. You’ve seen her before. Right here on this stage actually. And you’ve been seeing her for the past few weeks all over the media. She’s here with a special message for our viewers. Please help me welcome back Diotech’s own ExGen Sera!”
The hoverlamp that’s been waiting patiently before me activates and suddenly I’m in the spotlight. In that very moment I’m struck by how lonely it feels to be here on this stage. Not just because Kaelen and Dr. A aren’t with me.
This is a different kind of loneliness.
The kind that runs deep in your veins. That echoes against your bones when you’re trying to sleep at night.
The kind you were born with. And will die with.
Even though Seres, once again, warned me not to, I look straight into the hovercam that settles in front of me as Mosima launches into the interview.
“I’m glad to see that you’re okay, Sera. I read that Diotech headquarters had a little bit of an accident the other day. Something about a faulty foundation causing a building to collapse.”
I continue to look straight into the cam, into the eyes of the viewers, as I utter the first of many disheartening truths. “That was a lie.”
Mosima is completely caught off guard. She coughs slightly. “Excuse me?”
“There was no foundation problem. Diotech was attacked. Many people died. Including several that I loved.”
Out of the corner of my vision, I can see Mosima deliberating on how to proceed. A digital press release was obviously sent out about the collapsed building, and this is a far cry from what was in it.
I’m sure Mosima Chan is used to breaking-news stories, but this won’t be like anything she’s ever broken before.
She’s about to get the exclusive of her life.
“Are you saying Diotech lied in their press release about the building?”
Gaze forward. Don’t blink. Don’t waver.
“Yes. And that’s not all they’ve lied about.”
Another long, pensive pause as Mosima gathers herself and her thoughts. I expect her to ask something thoughtful and profound but all she says is, “Please, go on.”
“The compound was attacked by a group of people led by a woman named Jenza Paddok. This same group of people was also responsible for the unexpected halt in the publicity tour last week. The tour was not cut short, as it was reported, because Dr. Alixter was sick. It was cut short because I was kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped?” Mosima repeats in disbelief.
“Yes. By Jenza Paddok. Jenza, like every single member of her team, was wronged by Diotech. Jenza’s son, Manen, along with fifty-one other children, was killed because a drone released a canister of deadly nerve gas in a school playground.”
“You’re referring to the incident at Hillview Elementary School a few years back,” Mosima confirms. “I was told the drone collided with a bird, causing it to crash-land in the school playground.”
“That’s what everyone was told. It was another lie. Diotech had developed a new variation of the nerve gas. But before they could sell it to the military, it had to be tested on a myriad of life-forms—plants, dogs, lizards, adults, children. That drone was sent to that school on purpose.”
Mosima leans back in her chair. I can’t help but notice the skepticism painted on her face. “These are some pretty weighty accusations, Sera. Do you have any proof?”
“Yes. I have the memory files of the Diotech employee who programmed the drone. This particular memory was erased from his mind so he could never reveal the truth and never testify against them. I also have the archived memory files of every high-ranking employee and scientist who ever worked at Diotech.”
I hear a quiet gasp and it takes me a moment to realize it didn’t come from Mosima. It came from someone in the control booth. Maybe everyone.
“Well,” Mosima says, sounding slightly winded, “I’m sure we’d all love to get a look at those files. Perhaps Seres can—”
“I’m not finished.”
Mosima blinks wide-eyed at my brazenness but allows me to continue.
“Jenza Paddok and the majority of her team were killed during the attack on the compound, along with several Diotech employees. Jenza is only one of the thousands of people whose lives have been destroyed by this corporation. Mine included.” I lean forward and pin my gaze on the small floating object that hovers so effortlessly before me. I try to imagine the faces of everyone I’ve ever met and everyone I’ve ever lost, condensed into that tiny blinking red eye. “But it is my hope, that with your help, she will be the last.”
72
UNBLINDED
“In June of 2114 I was created by Diotech Corporation. I was manufactured in a lab to prove the supremacy of science and to show all of you how much better you could be with the help of the genetic modifications that Diotech is scheduled to release over the course of the next year.” I glance at Mosima, then back at the cam. “But you already know all of that. What you don’t know is why they’re doing it.”
I hear a commotion through the speaker Seres placed next to my ear. I peer up at the control booth. Someone—a man in a suit I’ve never seen before—has burst into the room. Mosima’s eyes are darting nervously between him and me.
I focus back on my audience. I wonder how many viewers are watching right now. Five billion? Seven billion? All of them?
“Diotech doesn’t want to make you prettier, or stronger, or faster, or more impervious to disease. Diotech wants to control you. You see, inside every genetic enhancement of the ExGen Collection, there will be an untraceable piece of nanotechnology. When triggered, this technology can manipulate your actions and your thoughts. It has the ability to control everything you do and say.”
The man in the suit is shouting at the technicians now. “I have twenty-five angry Diotech lawyers on my Lenses threatening to sue our asses into the ground if we don’t shut her down right now!”
“No.” It’s Seres’s voice that answers him. But he’s not in the booth. He’s down here on the stage floor with us. “This is your producer speaking,” he yells at the technicians. “I order you to keep this transmission hot.”
I steal a glance at Seres, the bald Eastern European man with the countless swirling nanotats competing for attention on his head. He’s no longer watching the stage. His eyes are cast upward, to the booth above. He’s fighting back. He’s probably risking his job to keep me live.
But it will only be a matter of time before Diotech wins again and my face disappears from people’s screens. I have to get through this as calmly and quickly as possible.
My stomach is gurgling, threatening to dispel its contents over this polished stage floor. I take a deep breath and will myself to keep talking. “I know you’re probably outraged to hear what I’m telling you. But the truth is, I don’t blame Diotech for what they’ve done to me. And what they’re trying to do to you. I blame you.” I pause, letting my accusation sink in. “Yes, all of you out there watching. When you trust something so blind
ly that you don’t even question its motives, you give up your power to it.
“Diotech is the most successful corporation in the world. It reigns over everything else. But only because you put your faith in it. You purchase its products and buy into its claims and want so badly to have the things it promises you.
“When Kaelen and I came on this stage two weeks ago and showed you how beautiful you could be, how fast you could run, how sharp your mind could become, you didn’t doubt it. You asked how you could get it and how long you’d have to wait. Diotech knew what you wanted and you proved it right. You chose to make it a god. But gods can only survive if you believe in them.”
“If you don’t cut this transmission RIGHT THIS GLITCHING SECOND,” the man in the suit bellows in my ear, “I will fire every single one of you!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Seres bounding up the stairs. A moment later he appears through the synthoglass of the booth. An argument commences but I try to block it out as I battle to keep going.
I’m starting to feel woozy. Disoriented. A hundred sights and sounds swirl through my mind at once.
The dying light in Rio’s eyes as I held him in the wreckage of the compound.
The rage in Pastor Peder’s face as he called me a soulless monster.
The sorrow in Paddok’s voice as she whispered a prayer to her departed son in front of the bunker door.
I can feel Mosima next to me. Watching me. Stunned into silence. But still wanting more. I struggle to find my next words. To put order to the chaos that’s reigning in my head. To transform muddled emotions into syllables.
When I speak again, my voice has softened. Almost to the point of breaking.
“A very brave woman once told me, ‘We all need to believe in something. It gives us a reason to get up in the morning. Something to fight for.’ I never believed in much. I always thought it would make me weaker. I was told science had the answer to all my questions, and therefore, I didn’t need to ask any. I was given thoughts to think and truths to memorize. I was brainwashed by Diotech, too.”