by Talis Jones
“Tria, could you help me locate a file, please?”
Without hesitation she springs up from her seat and walks over. “What are you looking for?”
“Dr. Mehen dropped off some of ZoiTech’s research to me earlier and I’d like to have Python’s vaccine notes to compare it with.”
Her gaze falls heavily over me as she assesses my request. “So you can really decipher it?”
I shrug. “I’m going to try.”
With a smug smile she nods and turns to the computer, scanning my badge to log in. “You won’t find anything in there,” she tosses over her shoulder. “Dr. Convici is adamant nothing be written down anymore and our computers are on isolated servers with internal network access only.” With a few quick strokes of the keys, files labeled V3.711-Project Janus begin popping up on the screen. “No printing access either,” she adds.
“I see,” I murmur unhappily.
“Looks like Dr. Mehen upgraded your access. Welcome to the team,” she smiles. “Here.”
Taking the offered tablet, I offer a thanks.
Tria waves it away. “Use it to take pictures of what you need, but they’ll automatically disappear in twenty-four hours. Security protocol. Anything not uploaded to the mainframe gets wiped.”
I frown. “Why not just pull up the files directly on the tablet?”
“Because you’d rather avoid a digital trail,” she says shrewdly before returning to her station. “You have clearance to view the data but I think you’re looking for something and screen time monitoring is triggered when you access project files. Don’t linger.”
Silence fills the space between us until I finally manage to pluck a few words from my brain. “I’m not trying to sabotage anything…” I stumble.
Tria looks back at me. “I know or I wouldn’t have helped you.”
Uncertainty has a light coating of sweat dampening my palms, but I decide to accept her statement. Sitting down before the computer I scroll through the data and snap a few pictures of arrays that look…odd. Van might think I’m ready, but I still have some more learning to do and at the moment whatever is bothering me feels just out of reach.
Suddenly I lurch forwards practically burning my eyes with the screen’s light they’re pressed so close. The notes occasionally refer to something called V3.713-Project Poppy. Checking to see that Tria isn’t watching, I pull up the search bar hoping I have access to whatever this is. With curiosity-fueled fingers I type in the project designation and new images fill the screen. At first glance they appear similar to the formulas and notes in Project Janus, but again something itches the back of my brain. I don’t bother to study them too long as Tria suggested. Quickly snapping pictures I close out of the windows. Once the screen is blank I tuck the tablet close to my chest and prepare to leave for my private office.
“If you need any help with those,” Tria offers without looking up from her microscope, “ask Arcus.”
I halt. “The Android?” Distrust coats my words at the thought of a robot programmed to be loyal to Python having any access to my questions.
At this she does turn to me. “He’s a person and he will help,” she promises.
Giving her a stiff nod, I try not to run in my eagerness to analyze the images stored on my tablet knowing I only have twenty-four hours to do so. I pass a rowdy group of technicians in high-spirits after their lunch break and keep an even stride towards my office. Only once my door is locked do I let out a full breath.
With avid interest I begin swiping through the photos on the tablet quickly putting together that Python plans on designing two different variants of the vaccine: one for the non-affected and one for the affected. Presumably the non-affected vaccine would work to block any change in exposure, meaning no powers, no madness, no death. The vaccine for the already affected would likely work to keep a second blast from devolving them into Aggressives.
Still, there is something in the arrays that has me…bothered.
Just then I hear the lock in my office door beep and in comes Remi and Win.
“Glad to see your bribery didn’t bite you in the ass,” Win grins. “I would’ve felt bad if I let you die for a piece of cake.”
I purse my lips. “Would you have?”
“Alright, it’d be close, but I’m sure I would’ve felt a little bad at least.”
Remi smacks Win’s head. Gesturing towards the tablet on my desk, he asks, “Van send that to you?”
“Nope, I used it to sneak a few pictures of the vaccine they’re working on,” I share.
“Oh yeah?” Win asks eagerly. “Think you can help finish it?”
My brow furrows and I lean back with a sigh. “I see the direction they’re going with it, but…”
Win groans while Remi tenses from head to toe. “But what?”
“I was looking into your conspiracy thing and…”
Now Win’s face is alert and both cousins have their attention nowhere but on what I’ll say next.
“I don’t know,” I breathe. “There’s something bothering me but I can’t figure out what. Maybe I just need to keep working on catching up and it’ll click or…” I rub my face, reluctant to accept the help. “I could ask Arcas.”
“He’s a cool dude,” Win nods appreciatively. “Always down to help whether it be small pranks, big pranks, medium pranks–”
“How about complex levels of biochemistry, neurology, Python conspiracies…?”
“He’s your guy,” Remi assures me.
“But he’s an Android,” I insist. “They’re programmed to respond to their owner and I don’t want either Convici knowing what I’m asking.”
Remi snorts. “You really need to get out of your office more and socialize.” Seeing my confusion he continues. “Arcas isn’t owned by Python or anyone in it. He’s a contracted third-party. Part of a group, actually. He’s friends with Agent Paladin which is how Python got the hookup, but he has nothing in his programming that’ll make him squeal to anyone.”
“Except Yosef,” Win corrects.
“Right,” Remi agrees. “Except him.”
Being around people still has me edgy with paranoia, general discomfort, and I’d simply rather be in my cozy pajamas resting my bones or working on a project. Still…I used to have fun once upon a time. Embarrassed by the utter hermit I’ve transformed into since prison, I ask, “Who?”
Win rolls his eyes. “You’ve seen him before. He’s always here when Paladin is. Tall, dark, looks like he wants to stab anyone who even thinks about sitting at his lunch table?”
A vague image surfaces in my mind. “Ah. So he’s allied with Paladin who’s allied with Jester and we can trust them.” My summation comes out sounding more like a question, but in my defense I had almost three decades of science and technological advancements to cram into my brain leaving little room for making friends and keeping up with the latest gossip and business-place politics. That’s what Win and Remi are for.
“We’re saying you can trust Arcas,” Remi promises.
“Fine, let’s go,” I give in. “Maybe while he’s analyzing these notes I can make some headway with Xi’s.”
We head towards the security wing and find the Android person in question lounging in a chair tossing popcorn into the air and catching them in his mouth while behind him computer screens hum and shine doing…computer things. The only thing I understand are the camera feeds though they don’t seem to be from this building…
“Don’t loom if you’re trying to snoop,” he chastises.
“I’m not snooping,” I snap. “Or looming.”
Spinning around in his chair he grins and I take in the damage on his face revealing the tech within. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the infamous wonder.”
I try not to punch him. “Why, because I’m a terrorist?”
“Nah,” he waves, “because you’ve been here for two years and we’ve not met once. Those antisocial skills of yours are very impressive and I’m usually gifted at wrig
gling my way into everyone’s lives. What’s your secret?”
“She’s the Horseman,” Win snickers dramatically and I smack his arm.
“Habits die hard,” I sneer.
“Popcorn?” he offers, holding out the bag.
“We’re here for a favor,” Remi intervenes.
“An interesting favor?” Arcas asks.
Awareness of Python’s surveillance has me hesitate.
“Don’t worry,” he smiles. “This is my dominion. Our ears only.”
I nod. “A favor I can’t have you reporting to anyone outside of this room,” I say sternly.
Arcas takes us in and something must show because he suddenly sits up, his face wiped of the easy-going humor it held before. “Tell me what it’s about and I’ll tell you if I can make that promise.”
“It’s about the vaccine. I need you to look at something and tell me what you see.”
He nods once. “How about I tell you first and my crew second?” he offers. Arcas reads between the lines of my hesitation. “We aren’t Python. In fact, we have half a mind to bring it down. Well, not Python per say, but Liz Convici? Hell yeah. We sort of hate her and thirst for her elusive blood.” Setting aside his snack, he sits back in his chair and tents his fingers together. “So now that I’ve told you that life-threatening piece of info, how about you tell me yours.”
Handing Arcas the tablet, I dive in. “I accessed the vaccine files and took some pictures. There are two variants, one for the affected and one for the non-affected, but there’s something off about them. It could just be something I haven’t gone over yet in my research, but Remi and Win have been hearing things, maybe nonsense things, but…” I trail off unsure of how to explain.
Arcas looks up from the photos. “But there’s an itch on the back of your neck you can’t seem to scratch.”
“Basically,” I nod.
“This wasn’t my specialty,” Arcas gestures towards the formulas glowing on the screen. “Since contracting with Python, however, I’ve been able to upload lots of useful skills.”
“So you’ll take a look?” I press.
“I’ll take a look,” he agrees. “Here’s hoping it’s just a cure to prevent anyone from turning into an Aggressive, yeah?”
Morbid curiosity peaks. “What were they like?”
Arcas lets out a harsh laugh. “Horrible. I’ve seen the vids. Luckily that particular plague rose up like a wave and died out pretty quickly.”
“Vids?” I ask then realization hits me. “Oh right, you weren’t manufactured yet,” I say, gesturing towards his marred face.
Discomfort twists in his eyes and my own go wide with shame.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” I rush.
Arcas shakes his head. “I just don’t like being reminded of what I am: a walking computer program.”
I tilt my head. “That’s basically what humans are too, just our computer hard drive is squishy and gross to look at.”
Arcas cracks a smile. I can’t help but reflect on how human-like he is. He, not it. Dottie was an early model used at ZoiTech and there was no question what she was. Even those eventually brought into the prison security system weren’t so…alive. Their speech, their movements, their behavior…it wasn’t human. Arcas, however, I’d never guess if he didn’t have those scars.
Nothing left to do but linger, I turn to leave.
“Can I ask,” Arcas calls after us.
I pivot, waiting for his question.
“What will you do with what I find?” His face is blank, keeping his thoughts behind the question hidden.
“If it’s simply something I forgot or haven’t learned yet, then I’ll learn it and move on,” I answer.
“And if it’s something more…?”
“I have always and will always help people, Arcas,” I vow slowly. “I’m here to help develop a vaccine, I’m here because the key is in Dr. Xi’s notes that are encoded, I’m here to do a job and then I’m walking out of here to be free.”
“People still believe you’re guilty, you know,” he responds with a sharp look in his eye. “Rehabilitated maybe, but guilty.”
I smile. “I don’t care.”
With that I walk out, Remi and Win behind me, praying that all Arcas finds is that my education is still lacking.
Twenty-Two
Deciphering Xi’s notes pushes Arcas’ assignment out of my head for the rest of the day, the night, then my morning is interrupted by a knock on my office door.
“Come in,” I say absentmindedly, my voice command unlocking the door.
“Morgan,” Remi chastises, hurrying to the door to intercept whoever’s there. “You have to check before letting someone in.”
His words go in one ear and out the other as Arcas shuts the door behind him.
“Arcas?”
“Hi hermit,” he grins. “Wanna join my friends and I for lunch today?”
For a moment I stare at him at a loss then he arches an eyebrow and I catch on. “Sure.”
“Excellent,” he beams, rubbing his hands together happily. “Where’s Win?”
“Taking a walk,” Remi answers breezily. “We don’t love confined spaces.”
Arcas nods. “Well be sure to extend the invite to him when he gets back.” With a salute, he leaves and my eyes ignore the camera in the ceiling corner instead latching onto the desk clock.
A gentle tone emits through the speakers signaling the cafeteria open for lunch and I drop everything for once eager to eat rather than work.
Carrying full trays, we find Arcas waiting for us and follow him to a dingy table shoved into the back. Leaning close to him I whisper, “What about the cameras?”
He pulls on a smile and slides through closed teeth, “On the fritz. They always seem to act up when I step into a room and have interesting things to say.”
“Convenient.”
“Very, isn’t it?”
Taking a seat sandwiched between Remi and Win, Arcas begins introductions. “You all know the Wild Cousins, but I have the victorious honor of introducing you to–”
“Morgan,” I interrupt, my eyes taking in the wary ones staring back at me.
“Yosef,” the young man introduces himself. He’s pure confidence, suspicion, and promise and he doesn’t offer his hand to shake. He rattles off the names of the others – Maddy a.k.a. Paladin, Castor, Nyx – then pins me once again with his gaze. I match his stare and after a tense minute he relaxes.
“So what’s this about, Arcas?” he asks. “A terrorist asks for your help and you don’t tell me?”
“She isn’t a terrorist,” Remi growls at the same time Win snarls, “Don’t you talk shit about my Auntie.”
“Whatever,” Yosef drawls coldly. “Arcas?”
“I trust her,” he insists.
Yosef opens his mouth to no doubt list my sins as if it isn’t beating a dead horse when Maddy intervenes. “Bones trusts her,” she says gently. “He invited her to stay with the Cai and you know he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t trust her.”
She must hold some sway because he clenches his jaw shut and nods at Arcas to continue.
The Android frowns at Yosef before addressing the group of us, his voice low. “Morgan finally got a peek at the vaccine they sprung her to finish and something caught her attention so she asked me to look into it.”
“And?”
“It is a vaccine in a way, but only by technicality,” Arcas begins. “The files are gone from the tablet so I can’t show you,” he says to me, “but I think you’re right that they’re two variants of the same project. The “vaccine” for the affected, also known as Project Janus, looks designed to suppress or reverse the change.” He looks at Remi, “Any special gifts it may have caused.”
Remi’s fists clench, but admits nothing. Losing his healing ability would surely feel like losing a part of himself. Why would they want to do that anyway?
“And for the non-affected?” I prod.
&nbs
p; Arcas sweeps us all with a severe look. “Project Poppy is a behavioral alteration drug on a neural level. True it will keep someone from devolving into an Aggressive, but it goes further. A dose of that and ‘fight or flight’ will become replaced with ‘Yes, master.’”
Maddy grabs Yosef’s arm while Nyx and Win react by sending their steak knives into the table. Remi and I turn cold while Yosef seems…unsurprised.
“The good thing,” Arcas adds in quickly, “is that they’re unfinished. I can see the aim, the potential, but they’re missing a target which means we still have time.”
“I assume for the affected it’s a two-step process,” Yosef thinks. “First, eliminate any supernatural advantage, then turn them docile rendering them completely incapable of fighting back at all.” He laughs humorlessly. “And all under the guise of a life-saving vaccine. It’s brilliant.”
“Excuse me if we are not all as appreciative as you over our impending doom,” Remi growls.
“Same story, different game,” Yosef shrugs. “Besides, we have Morgan don’t we?”
“I’m caught in a perpetual loop of déjà vu,” I breathe in disbelief.
Remi places a comforting hand on my arm.
“Let’s hope not,” Yosef replies. “Last time you cut the wrong wire.”
In a flash I have my fork pressed against his throat. “I suggest you don’t talk about what you don’t know, boy.”
“Morgan, please,” Maddy pipes up. “Everyone, we need to chill out before we start drawing attention.”
“I may not have deserved being put into prison, but I did survive it. Remember that the next time you think to piss me off.”
I settle back into my seat, glancing at the next table with employees enjoying their meal and catch an older man with his spoon of soup hovering halfway to his mouth, fear in his eyes targeted right on my back.
“I don’t get it,” I sigh in frustration.
Arcas frowns, “So the first vaccine–”
“I get what you said,” I snap. “I just don’t understand the why.”
