She pretended to pick at her nails, but saw his face screw up in consternation as he considered his options. It’s not like he could forbid her to ask questions; that would be strange, and would draw questions from others.
She raised an eyebrow. “Look, what do any of us have to hide anymore? That’s the whole reason I’m intrigued, Dr. Heil.”
“Please, call me Darryl,” he interrupted. He pulled up a stool as well and leaned against it.
Fi smiled to herself when she saw his resignation. Her method always worked. Vinegar first, honey second, and voila, conversation. “Darryl,” she softened her tone. “Here’s the thing about you that doesn’t add up to me. You seem to carry an awful lot of guilt. So much that you can’t even really be around other people.” He grunted in discomfort, but did not disagree. “But we all just heard Stan say that your research was stolen from you by someone at Prolifix, and then misused by the DoD. That’s not your fault. No one can blame you for that.”
Her eyes flicked to the corner of the room where a well-worn cot stood piled with sheets. He really did sleep in here? Wow, she’d assumed that was just a rumor. This guy was more tortured than she thought.
She changed tactics. “I mean…who was this person who stole your research? Was it your boss, or a jealous colleague?”
Darryl snorted. “Both. Her name was Angela Jacobs. And at one time, for some completely inexplicable reason, I was in love with her.”
He hung his head, and Fi felt an unexpected wave of guilt. Maybe it wasn’t her right to have Darryl’s story. Wasn’t it enough that he didn’t intend to cause any harm? That it was this Angela person’s fault that his research fell into evil hands? It must have been terrible to feel so betrayed by someone you loved.
“Darryl, I’m sorry. Truly. But then, why won’t you tell your story? No one can blame you for being betrayed, for being used. You were a victim,” she said, and Darryl choked.
“Victim!” He smacked the table beside him, and Fi jumped, shocked by the change in his demeanor. He stopped and pressed his lips together, his fingers nervously wrinkling the lab coat over his thighs and then smoothing it again. “I was hardly a victim, Fi. They didn’t just use me, I used them.”
“You mean Prolifix or DoD?”
She was so confused. How on Earth could he have used either of them?
“Prolifix.” The word came out like it nauseated him. “You see, Fi, I wasn’t really a botanist, so much as I was a geneticist.”
He took a deep breath and cocked his head. Fi could sense that talking about science was having a calming effect on him. His hands had relaxed, and he was meeting her eyes now.
“Louis tells me that you’re quite the bio-prodigy. He says that you’ve already begun master’s level work on plastids in his lab. Is that true?”
She flushed in surprise and nodded. Darryl whistled…a low, friendly sound.
She felt herself relax and returned his smile. “Don’t be too impressed, I’m still like a freshman in high school for physics.”
He waved his hand. “Don’t knock it. As my mother used to say, ‘You have a gift.’” His smile faded at the mention of his mother. “Anyway, back to your question. I used Prolifix to get funding for the type of research I wanted to do. Their corporate needs overlapped with my line of study, so I took the job. Even though I knew they’d use it for greedy corporate purposes, I felt justified. It was just the way this stuff was done at the time.”
“What do you mean, your line of study?” she asked, confused. “What were you really studying, if it wasn’t how to speed up seed germination?”
Darryl’s gaze darkened and his fingers began to work his coat once again. “I belonged to an underground group of researchers. We dubbed ourselves the Jacob’s Ladder Institute, but it was meant to be a joke,” his voice wavered, and he looked away. “Most of us met in grad school, at conferences. We were always drawn to each other’s talks because we shared the same…rather unique beliefs and goals. Eventually we made those beliefs and goals sort of official within the group.”
“What are you talking about, Darryl? A research group?”
Fi was trying to be patient, but now it just seemed like he was rambling.
“No. We were more of a social group with shared beliefs. I don’t know, on some level it was all a joke like I said, the whole ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ thing. But on some level it wasn’t, because we acted on it. I took the job at Prolifix so I could do the research that the group wanted to do, that all of us wanted to do. We wrote it into our silly unofficial bylaws that all members of the Institute would use whatever means necessary to discover the Grail.” His hands waved loosely, like a marionette’s. “I can’t believe it led to this! We were just messing around, but then, we meant it too. We devoted our lives and our research to the ultimate cure, the Holy Grail of medical research.”
Fi was annoyed at this point. She wanted answers, not a bunch of crazy gibberish. “So what does that mean? The Holy Grail?”
Darryl’s mouth fell open as if he’d just realized that Fi didn’t understand. While he attempted to compose himself, his words came out in a stammer. “Well, I mean…we were…it’s not like we were the only ones.” His lower lip trembled. “There were others besides us who were looking for the cure. But we were wrong. We were all wrong.”
“Why?” How could seeking any cure be wrong, she wondered?
“The ultimate cure, Fi,” he moaned. “The cure for death. We were looking for immortality.”
Immortality? Did he really just say that? It felt like she’d been punched in the face. Her head swam and her whole body flushed with heat. The person whose discovery led to all this death was seeking…immortality? She lost her balance and slid off the stool, which clattered to floor. “Sorry.” Her hands trembled as she set the stool back on its legs. She tried to will herself to look up at Darryl, to reassure him, but she couldn’t do it.
“I’m sorry, Fi.” Darryl’s voice was flat.
Her mind raced in sickening circles. The cure for death, it kept repeating. No wonder he felt so guilty! He wasn’t just trying to make a buck tweaking corn; he and his buddies were seeking immortality. Jesus, it was unthinkable. It was like he was mocking her or something. Well, Fi, we were just seeking immortality…as if that were just a normal everyday research goal. Her hands grew clammy, and she felt like she was going to throw up, or pass out, or both. There was no slowing her thoughts. They screamed at her. Lawson was right! He was right!
“No, no. I’m sorry… sorry that I disturbed you.” She stammered as she backed toward the door. “I promise that I won’t bother you again.” She couldn’t bear to look at his face. The instant that the door to the lab pod slid closed behind her, she fled. Her heart pounded as she raced through the narrow tunnels.
It wasn’t until she stood beside the treadmill that she remembered she was wearing her slip-on shoes. The energy inside her buzzed, begging to be let out. She kicked off the shoes and stepped onto the treadmill in her bare feet. She hit the start button and laid on the speed, the beeping becoming steady as she pushed it faster. At six miles per hour, she waited for two minutes for her lungs to catch up, her mind racing ahead. It was important to steady her breathing, but her thoughts had her gasping.
“We didn’t mean any harm,” Darryl had called as she fled. “We wanted to end the fear and suffering of death…”
She could imagine it, the temptation of such a thought. What if death could be cured? Didn’t she want to live forever? What if she could just live a lot longer? What if Kiara could live longer? Oh God. Of course. Of course. Could it have been any more like Icarus? Her heart was already thumping out of her chest, but her hips pressed against the machine, her legs straining to go faster.
She punched the speed and felt better as the belt lurched and her legs turned over to catch up. The sound of the machine helped create white noise to compete with her thoughts, and the swing of her bones and rhythm of her breath took over. Corporate greed…that she
could understand. Someone wanting to make a buck. Wasn’t that the true evil in the world?
What would Papa say, she wondered desperately, suddenly angry that he wasn’t there to help her figure it out. But she knew what he would say. He’d say that science wasn’t wrong, that striving for more wasn’t wrong. But then, he was dead now, wasn’t he? And it was human beings that had killed him.
Her hips bumped at the machine again and she punched the speed higher, her bare feet flying over the tread. The frustration was pushing out of her with every breath, and through every sweaty pore. Even military incompetence or arrogance, she thought. She was prepared to handle that as well. That was really what happened, wasn’t it? But she couldn’t drive the repeating thought from her mind. Lawson was right. He was right. We reached too far. We wanted to be gods. We wanted to live forever. And we were punished. Punished.
She didn’t notice the figure approach until he was nearly beside her.
As the World Turns
------------- Asher -------------
Asher grew concerned when Fi didn’t return, but it was usually easy to track her down. Whenever he couldn’t find her, the gym was always his first thought. As he approached from the soccer fields, he could see her through the large windows, her hair swishing as she ran. He frowned. Why in the hell was she running now? He turned the corner and entered the gym through the rec room. He stopped dead in his tracks. Something was definitely wrong.
Fi was running in her black cargos and tank top, her bare feet flying as if wolves were chasing her. Her face was pinched, and he saw her stab at the machine panel and then nearly fall as the belt heaved forward. His breath caught and he ran to her.
“Fi. What is this?”
The question was out of his mouth before he realized that she hadn’t seen him coming. Startled, she tripped and had to grab the rails to steady herself. She lifted her feet above the racing belt and set them onto the foot rails. Asher reached over and punched the STOP button, and the belt immediately began to slow. Fi dropped her head, gasping, the sweat dripping off her nose.
“What’s going on?” he pressed.
There was no way to hide his concern. In fact, he wanted her to feel it. She was acting crazy. Fi threw her head back, still struggling to breathe, and shook it. She stepped back onto the belt and turned it back on. Was she kidding? Asher frowned and made a sound of protest, but she held up her hand.
“Please. I can’t, Ash,” she shook her head as she jogged. “Please.”
Though he was still worried, Asher stepped back and gave her some room. It was obvious that she wasn’t ready to talk about…whatever this was. But she wasn’t exactly running away from him either. He grabbed a plastic chair from the recreation room next door and dragged it into the workout room. Making it a point to do so in front of her, Asher settled into the chair with his arms folded. The message was clear. Whenever she went from “I can’t” to “I can,” they were going to discuss it.
He could see her nod and then turn away, her head down as she settled into a travelling pace. Asher was determined to appear patient while she ran. After the first half hour, he could see the change as it came over her. He’d run beside her for enough miles to see it hit her, the endorphin rush. Her breathing and rhythm would smooth out and she’d loosen up, her strides becoming natural, and her upper body still. At times you could barely tell that she was running, except for the movement of her legs. She ran with her chin lowered, her hair swirling behind her with the flow of her movement. Held loosely at her chest like a boxer’s, her arms pumped an efficient, loose pace to match her legs.
Even if one were to miss all of these signs, her eyes would have told anyone where she was at that moment, and it was her eyes that made his stomach twist with worry. They stared into the distance as if lost in a dream, yet there was a tightness at the corners…an occasional flinch, as if her mind had tread over a sore spot and then moved away again just as quickly. Whenever he saw it, he’d flinch reflexively as well, his apprehension deepening. No matter what was eating at her, he knew it had to be tied to the Truthers.
He knew that the entire conflict with them had been weighing on her. The five or six times he’d caught her listening to their broadcasts were only times that she knew she’d been caught. There had to be at least a dozen times that he’d caught her listening, but hadn’t wanted to confront her. It felt wrong, like he was accusing her of something, but of what? Of having doubts? Of being depressed? He could hardly throw stones in that department, especially considering the way that Fi put up with him listening to the lists every day.
But this was different, he thought, feeling torn. The Truthers were no good, no matter what their message. What if she believes in what they have to say? What would he do if she decided that she wasn’t on Eden’s side? He shook his head and groaned a little as he shifted in his seat. Now he wished he’d picked a different chair. This one was incredibly uncomfortable after…how long had she been running? He realized that he had no idea. He sighed and stretched his neck and settled in again, watching her run like a woman possessed…like a woman who wanted to keep running straight off a cliff.
It has to have been more than an hour already, he thought, as he lowered his head into his hands. He was done trying to impress her with the “stoic” act. Besides, she was wandering around in her own head anyway. There was no way she was paying attention to him. With his head in his hands, he wracked his brain for an answer. The only reason she ever runs really hard is because she’s upset. And the truth was that he’d never seen her run this hard, ever. So that had to mean that she was more upset than he’d ever seen her. He looked up and took a deep breath. She showed no signs of stopping. What could possibly be so bad that she would want to run until she was half dead of exhaustion? He sat back again and put his hands behind his head. Well, he wasn’t going to let her actually kill herself, but for now, he’d just have to wait.
After what seemed like forever, Fi sighed, punching the STOP button and coming to a slow halt along with the belt. Her eyes slid his way in a moment of guilty acknowledgment, before she finally looked down at the display panel. She gasped, and he rolled his eyes.
Yeah, no kidding, he thought, as he forced a smile. “So, what’s the damage?” His drawl was sarcastic, but he tried to smile like it was all just a joke. She stepped off the treadmill gingerly.
“189.” She sat down on the treadmill and dropped her head into her hands.
Jesus, three hours, Asher thought.
“Sorry,” she apologized, her head still down. Her voice was tired.
Asher rose from the torturous chair and settled beside her. She was drenched in sweat and shivering, whether from cold or muscle fatigue, he couldn’t tell.
Despite this, she managed a small, apologetic smile as she sat up. “I had to get this feeling out,” she explained. “I had to get it out of me, and you know the only way I can do that is running.”
He could tell that she felt truly remorseful for making him wait, and for worrying him, but her explanation left a lot to be desired. She couldn’t just avoid talking to him about this stuff anymore, not if she was going to go crazy and run like a maniac for three hours at a time.
He frowned. “What feeling? What is there to get out?”
“The Truth,” her mouth twisted into a wry smile, and his heart pounded.
No, please, he thought, please tell me that she’s not with them; that this is not about siding with the Truthers.
“That’s why Dr. Heil is so weird,” she said.
Wait, what? This was about Heil?
“That’s why he acts so guilty,” she continued wearily. “It’s not because he found the genetic sequence…it’s because of why he was studying it in the first place.”
Her tone was pure acid, and Asher found himself surprised. He tried to stop his mind from jumping to conclusions, but she was scaring him. Her expression was so strange, a mixture of tightness and anger. She kept swallowing, like she felt sick, and her
eyes burned.
“He was looking for a cure for death, Asher. He and a bunch of other scientists thought that mortality could be cured.”
Stunned, Asher’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.
Fi nodded and put her head back into her hands. “I know.”
His mind raced. Looking for a cure for death? She had to be kidding, or mistaken somehow. That was just crazy. But…no, no, he thought. There’s no way she just drove herself into the ground over a dream, or a hallucination. Heil must have told her that he was looking for a cure for death. He put his hand to his forehead in sudden understanding. Jesus, a cure for death. No wonder. No wonder she ran herself ragged. No wonder she’s losing her mind. He sighed. This was all they needed.
“Lawson is right, Ash,” her voice grew small. “The Truthers are right. The scientists were building Jacob’s Ladder to make us immortal. That’s what they actually called it. Jacob’s Ladder, I mean. He told me. They wanted to make us gods ourselves.” She gave a soft snort that shifted the sweaty curls hanging in her face. “Jacob’s effing Ladder.”
He couldn’t take it anymore. Her beautiful hazel eyes were filled with angry tears and behind them he saw…nothing. They were broken. He’d seen her deal with so much worse than this before in her life, but this had cut her to the core, and he knew why. It was because she felt the Famine so deeply. Maybe it was because her father had been a scientist, or maybe it was because she was one herself. Either way, he knew that she felt sort of responsible, in a way, even though that was ridiculous. For her to learn that it was the ambition of scientists who wanted to be immortal that had cost those billions of lives… He shook his head. To be honest, the thought turned his stomach as well. Regardless, he had to snap her out of it. She couldn’t keep dwelling like this or it was going to kill her, and that would kill him.
Seeds of War Page 15
