The Pain Colony

by Shanon Hunt

  Layla could barely contain her excitement. She was chosen. Finally.

  “As you all have been told many times over the course of your induction, the pure have a special place in our society. They have a duty and a moral obligation to lead the impure. They have a social responsibility to uphold and encourage the values of the Colony. And above all, they must comply with the requests of the Father and his leadership team. You are here today because you have proven ready to take this step. I am so proud of each one of you. Come.”

  Sister Mia stood and opened her arms.

  Layla moved into Sister Mia’s embrace, as did the others. She didn’t know why, but she was crying. She turned her head and saw that Jonah was crying too. Sister Mia held them as they held each other, for several minutes. Layla didn’t know if she’d ever felt such love, such a sense of family, of unity.

  Of purpose.

  ***

  “As trainees, the next several months will be quite taxing for you,” Sister Mia said.

  Layla hadn’t known what happened during purification, but she hadn’t thought it would require months. She glanced at Sofia, who shrugged back.

  “I’m sure you have all expected that becoming pure is just a magic injection,” Sister Mia continued. “Most incoming trainees have that impression. But I can assure you, there’s so much more to it than that. It’s what we call the conditioning process.”

  They followed Sister Mia, down past the river and into the grasslands toward the mountain.

  “Your days will be filled from the moment you awaken to the moment you sleep. Your schedule will be tight. Strict. Every day, you’ll train your body, mind, and spirit. You might think you’ve already experienced the most difficult part of the purification process, but no, this next step will shape who you will become here at the Colony or outside the Colony. How you progress over this next stage will determine your calling from the Father.”

  Layla replayed Sister Mia’s words as they silently continued along the path. She was ready to do whatever would be asked of her.

  Several minutes went by before Sister Mia spoke again. “We’re coming to the trainee center, which is a special campus reserved only for conditioning and readiness for purification. For the next several days, I will introduce you to the many individuals who will be supporting you through your conditioning. Our trainees, which now include all of you, are our highest priority. We have world-class physical trainers and educators here who’ve given up their careers and lives in the impure world to develop our pure society. I want you to reflect on that. I want you to understand just what a privilege it is to be in this elite group.”

  Layla was too giddy to clear her thoughts long enough to thank the Father.

  Sister Mia stopped at the door of a small building, which she opened with a key card. They entered into a small, unimpressive lobby with three elevator doors along one wall. Sister Mia pressed the call button. An elevator. Layla couldn’t remember if she’d been on an elevator.

  The door opened and they all shuffled into the small space. Layla felt a familiar stomach-dropping sensation as soon as the elevator began moving.

  Okay, ready, Butch? One, two, three … jump!

  Her father’s voice in her head startled her so much that she stumbled backward. Jonah caught her just as her tailbone touched the floor.

  “Are you okay, Layla?” Sister Mia asked. “What happened?”

  Layla chuckled and rubbed her tailbone, trying to appear nonchalant.

  “She probably doesn’t remember how to ride an elevator.” Nicole was trying to be helpful in her garish way. “Right, Layla?”

  But Layla could only grin ear to ear, flooded with joy at the memory of riding up and down the hospital elevators a dozen times with her dad. She wanted to close her eyes and relive it a while longer, but the door opened.

  They stepped out of the elevator into an enormous room.

  “Holy cow!” Jonah said.

  “This is fantastic!” Isaac turned in a full circle.

  Sophia was significantly less impressed. “A gym? We have to exercise?”

  “Every day,” Sister Mia said with a nod, “and you’re all going to love it. Sofia, I once said the same thing. I was skinny my whole life and never felt like I needed to exercise, but this actually became my favorite part of the conditioning. It will make you feel amazing, with endless energy and strength.”

  A deep voice with a strong accent thundered from behind them. “Look at you, Mia, my girl, so strong. This, best part of conditioning. First and best.”

  Layla wheeled around as a six-foot bodybuilder strode toward them. He was dressed in form-fitting white shorts and a tank, definitely not Colony attire, and he had the largest biceps Layla had ever seen. His spikey neon-yellow hair stood two inches straight up, and Layla wondered if that could be his real hair color.

  Sofia’s smile told her that Sofia was about to have a miraculous change of heart about the gym.

  “Welcome to my training center,” he said, articulating each word carefully. His accent was thick. “My name is Dimitri. I am lead trainer. Congratulations to you. Your lives will change much in next months, starting here with me, yes?”

  Layla glanced at Sofia, who was practically drooling, and smirked.

  “You wonder my accent, yes? I come from Russia. I was professional bodybuilder and boxer, and I train others for top competition. One year ago, I come here to Colony to develop new trainees to be pure.” He glanced down at his flip chart and gestured at them. “Who starting today? Nicole, Sofia, Layla. My new girls.” He sized up Sophia and Layla. “You are too skinny, like small girls. Children. I will fix.” He looked at Nicole. “You, good. Built solid. But not so much dessert, yes?” He winked at her, and opened his arms to the men.

  Isaac and Jonah introduced themselves as Dimitri squeezed their biceps. “Good muscle tone, but I will make better. Tomorrow you begin physical conditioning first thing. Today I show you my gym, yes? This way.”

  He led them to a large area with treadmills, bikes, and other equipment that Layla had never seen. He moved into the center of the section, stepped onto a treadmill platform, and faced them.

  “This is cardio center. Each day, you come here. You do one hour cardio training exercise of your choice: bike, treadmill, elliptical, AMT, rower. Each machine with fitness monitor. We record data each day to see progress for you.” Dimitri flattened his palm across his chest, and his face changed from excited to somber. “The heart is most important muscle in body. Your heart become stronger each day. You push yourself harder each day.”

  He stated this as though it were law, nonnegotiable. Layla wondered if she could handle Dimitri’s gym. She’d never really done much exercise except yoga, and he didn’t seem like the type to appreciate a good backbend.

  He led them to a well-equipped free weight area. “And you do weight training every day, one and half hour. Why, you ask? Because pure have special responsibility. Pure must be stronger, more physical than impure in poisoned world. Powerful. Superior.”

  He flexed his bicep, and Sofia sighed audibly.

  “Yes? Understand? You must be extra, extra strong with top health to be ready for pure.” He seemed to want to make this point very clear.

  “Your training begin tomorrow morning. I will be here to guide you.”

  And with no goodbye, he turned and walked away.

  ***

  Layla filled her lunch tray with turkey and mashed potatoes, even treated herself to a slice of pumpkin pie, and walked over to the picnic table where her group sat. Sofia had everyone’s attention as she animatedly acted out a story.

  She liked Sofia a lot and was thrilled that they would be roommates. They’d laughed and joked while trying to scoot the heavy bureaus to reorganize their new room. Sofia told stories about her job organizing the Colony’s enormous brand-new shipping and receiving building, and Layla explained the secrets to making delicious salads. She admired Sofia’s even temperament and relaxed, confiden
t style, so different from her own shy, nervous demeanor. Maybe Sofia’s personality would rub off over time.

  She sat down and took a large drink of cucumber-infused water.

  “I’m looking forward to the fitness program,” Jonah said. “I was a wrestler in high school, and I was pretty good. Well, until I got mixed up in drugs.”

  “You were an addict?” Nicole asked through a mouthful of Italian bread.

  He nodded. “Not something I’m proud of. It was always so hard for me to make weight, so I started taking drugs to control my appetite. You know what they say about gateway drugs. Long story short, I ended up in a drug den, high on heroin.”

  “Is that where you met the Colony recruiters?” Sofia asked.

  “Sure is. I see it as perfect serendipity. If I hadn’t been there, the recruiters never would have come across me. I’m not embarrassed by my poisoned life. It was just a step in becoming something better. I told Dr. Jeannette that when I’m pure, I want to join the recruiting team. Help others who were just like me.”

  “Wow, I never would’ve believed it,” Sofia said. “You always seem so well put together—and no, I’m not flirting. You’re not my type.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I think we all know what your type is. Yellow-haired Russian, maybe?”

  “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sophia gave a wave and changed the subject. “Isaac, did you do sports in high school?”

  Isaac shook his head and swallowed a bite of chicken. “I don’t think so. Maybe I did stuff when I was young, but I don’t have any memories of my past.”

  “Are you a renewed?” Jonah was incredulous.

  He nodded.

  Layla put down her fork, her interest piqued at the word memories.

  “What’s that?” Sofia asked.

  “People who don’t have any memories of their poisoned life. We came here for a fresh start.”

  “Like Layla!” Nicole pointed a finger at her.

  Layla shot her a look. She wished she’d never told Nicole about her lost memories.

  But Sophia’s attention was on Isaac. “What? You’re kidding. Why would you do that?” She stared at him, a forkful of watermelon in the air, seemingly having forgotten she was eating.

  “I had post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  She shoved her unfinished lunch to the side and leaned forward until her elbows were on the table. “Okay, stop right there. I want to hear this story from the beginning.”

  Isaac tossed his napkin on his half-eaten food, his appetite now ruined. “It’s not a very nice story, and I only learned it from Dr. Jeannette. Apparently our family lived in this bad neighborhood in Austin, Texas. I’d gotten caught up in a gang. One day, they killed a five-year-old girl who’d just moved into the neighborhood. It was a hate crime.” He shook his head. “I guess they were sending a message that whites weren’t welcome in our black neighborhood.”

  “Oh my god.” Sophia looked riveted.

  “So what the cops think happened is that I must have left the gang, or maybe I was going to turn them in, I don’t know. Dr. Jeannette says I wouldn’t even talk about it during hypnosis. But anyway, I guess they wanted to get even with me and deliver a message to others. They came to my house and killed my family.”

  Layla couldn’t believe how impassively he spoke.

  “When they found me, I was tied to a chair, badly beaten but alive. My little sister had been raped. My parents were beaten beyond recognition. The word ‘traitor’ was spray-painted across our living room wall.”

  “Jesus.” Jonah straddled the bench so he could face his friend.

  Isaac remained shockingly unemotional. “I ended up getting into the mess of social services, moved to a couple foster homes, bounced around for a few months. I hadn’t spoken a word all that time. I guess I was too traumatized or something. Finally, some caseworker called Brother James, thinking it might be the only way I could be helped.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Dr. Jeannette showed me a video of my intake.” His face clouded over. “God, I was so thin. My face was gaunt and ashy. I looked like I was just … just wasting away, like I was on the verge of disintegrating into a pile of dust.”

  He had a faraway look on his face, lost in the memory.

  “Anyway, so in the video, Brother James asked for my consent to remove the memory of my poisoned life. I watched myself just stare at him with a completely blank look on my face, like I wasn’t even in there. Finally he said, ‘Isaac, we need you to verbally give us permission to give you this treatment. You have to say yes. If you don’t consent, we can’t help you. But if you do consent, you’ll have the opportunity for a whole new life. You can have a fresh start.’ I croaked out the word yes. And that’s the story.” Now Isaac smiled. “The memory elixir saved me.”

  “The memory elixir,” Layla repeated, unaware that she’d spoken aloud until everyone turned to her. “I’ve heard of that.”

  She’d heard of it, but where?

  “Yeah, lots of people here are in the renewed cluster. It’s a miracle, a savior for anyone who’s had something horrible happen to them.”

  “But you don’t have any memory of it? You don’t remember your family at all, not even before that night?” Didn’t he have visions?

  He shook his head.

  “Then how do you know it’s true? How do you know all that horrible stuff happened?”

  Isaac looked at her as if she was crazy. “Because that’s what Dr. Jeannette told me. Why would she make it up?”

  Sofia ran around the table to wrap her arms around Isaac, cooing how sorry she was for him. Nicole crawled over Layla to get in on the embrace.

  Layla got up and stepped out of the way. She eyed Isaac, who politely hugged the girls in return but didn’t seem in the least tormented by his own story. He didn’t feel the pain or the loss of that night. He didn’t have real memories. Layla didn’t join the group hug. She didn’t feel sorry for Isaac or his family.

  Dr. Jeannette had told him that tale, and she didn’t believe a word of it.

  Chapter 49

  “Okay, you guys, this is some crazy, weird shit. Are you ready for this?”

  Malloy cowered next to Garcia in a quiet booth in an unopen section of the Green Lizard Grill, apprehensively awaiting the results of Tyler Steele’s blood and tissue analysis. Garcia had a Skype window open on his laptop, and Jordan Jennings’ bushy head bobbed on and off of the video screen. Malloy hadn’t told Jordan the victim was a friend—it hadn’t seemed relevant—but now he feared that Jordan might be crass in reporting his findings, and he couldn’t risk reacting emotionally instead of analytically.

  Too late to worry about that now.

  “Go on.”

  “Okay, here we go. Most important: This victim is different than the others. He doesn’t have the mutated SCN9A gene the other patients had, so we did whole blood sequencing to look for anything unnatural. And you’ll never guess where we found some highly unlikely mutations.”

  He turned from the camera and typed something onto his computer.

  “Here it is. First, we noticed a mutation of the rs7294919 gene, which is on chromosome 12q24. This is common in older people and manifests as early Alzheimer’s disease, but because he was so young, we thought this was weird enough to dig deeper. We expanded our analysis to other genes associated with Alzheimer’s and found mutations in three more genes related to episodic memory and the largest Frankengene I’ve seen yet, a very strange rebuild of the KIBRA gene. Bizarre, right?”

  “So what are you saying?” Garcia asked. “Someone wanted to give Tyler Alzheimer’s disease?”

  Jordan shook his head. “It’s just my opinion, but I think this kid was a pincushion. I think he was being used for human experimentation with different genetic mutations related to episodic memory. Whoever did this sure did a number on this poor kid’s brain. Probably completely scrambled it. Who knows what was left of him.”

 
; There it was. Malloy recoiled.

  “See, here’s the thing. Neurons and brain cells, which were the target of these modified genes, don’t replicate like other cells. That means in order for the modified gene to work, you’d have to keep dosing again and again to eventually hit every cell.”

  Garcia turned to Malloy. “Like Lyle Richmond. He said he had to keep dosing Karen over a couple months, right?”

  “So in our analysis, we used PCR to measure copy numbers of each of these genes, and the copy numbers varied significantly. If we assume they were using the same CRISPR platform to deliver the modified genes, it looks to me like they dosed him with different drugs over the course of some time. Months maybe. They might have been adding on new genes to the original ones or mixing cocktails of multiple Frankengenes to see what would happen.”

  An image of Nazi human experiments flashed through Malloy’s mind.

  “Fucking why?” Garcia moved to the edge of his chair, his face flushed.

  “My guess is they were trying to figure out how to erase his memory, or aspects of his memory, without turning him into a vegetable.”

  “Did they? Did they turn him into a vegetable?” Malloy asked with a croak. He cleared his throat.

  Jordan shrugged off the question. “There’s more. The modified genes weren’t restricted to the brain. We found them in the blood, and that wasn’t the case for the other victims. The mad scientist seems to have refined his technology to transfect every cell type, and they delivered the drug systemically—intravenously, instead of through the port.”

  “What does that mean?” Garcia asked.

  “I’m not sure why they would do that. These memory genes are only expressed in neurons, in the brain, and the Frankengenes these guys created are far too big to cross the blood–brain barrier. It doesn’t make sense to inject them into the blood. All I can think of is that they were trying to prove that these megagenes can be delivered systemically with high uptake. Maybe they were just using this kid to see if there would be any toxic effects.”