by Sean Platt
CHAPTER 40
SIGN HERE, PLEASE
“Sign here, please.”
The clerk, as formal and officious as a staff lawyer, ran a finger up his touchscreen, moving the text on Ephraim’s tablet until another yellow-highlighted thumb box came into view.
“Can I at least read it first?” Ephraim glanced at Elle, sitting beside him on the opposite side of the man’s big desk.
“Of course.”
Ephraim scanned the legalese above the thumb box. Pages and pages. He’d already been given a comprehensive manual on the Tomorrow Gene therapy which he’d flipped through on the tablet for an hour before giving up.
Jonathan might’ve been able to make sense of the explanations for how it worked (along with the requisite warnings and precautions), but Ephraim couldn’t. The fact that Evermore disclosed as much as it did in the manual was, in itself, comforting. He didn’t have the background to know what he was getting himself into, but he couldn’t claim that Evermore wasn’t telling him.
The legalese made even less sense. It was as if they’d taken the manual and added legal jargon to turn the incomprehensible completely indecipherable.
Ephraim touched his thumb to the box without reading, stalling for time. Until he scrawled his signature at the contract’s end, none of this was official. Maybe between then and now, the solution would magically reveal itself.
The clerk/lawyer scrolled again. “And here, please.”
Ephraim pressed his thumb.
“And here.”
Ephraim paused with his thumb hovering above the new box. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this.”
“Then you shouldn’t sign it.”
Ephraim looked at Elle.
“I can’t advise you,” she said. “I’m sorry. The laws are very specific.”
“What’s the point of all of this? I thought there were no laws here?”
“There is Eden law,” Elle said.
“But I couldn’t sue you if I wanted to.”
“It’s more about us agreeing that we understand each other,” Elle said. “Clarity and transparency is something Mr. Connolly insists upon. If you sign the contract, you’re saying you understand what we’re going to do and what you’re being asked to pay and that you’re not to divulge anything that happens here.”
“But the law doesn’t bind us — either of us — anywhere but here.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
Yes, he’s a lawyer, not a clerk. What kind of law he practiced was up for grabs.
“So why bother?”
“It’s an agreement in good faith,” Elle said. “A statement of trust between you and us.”
“If you trust me, you don’t need the contract.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Todd,” the lawyer said, “but these are the rules.”
“What if I don’t sign it?”
“Then we can’t give you the Tomorrow Gene treatment.”
Ephraim looked at Elle. He wondered if he’d developed Stockholm Syndrome, or at least if he’d been fooled into seeing Elle as the Good Cop to the lawyer’s Bad Cop. Not long ago, Elle was someone he’d wanted to run from. Now, faced with this lawyer and his contract, she felt like a lifeline.
“I don’t know,” Ephraim said.
“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do.” Elle patted his hand. “This isn’t about coercion. We’re making you an offer. We’d never, ever want anyone to feel like they were being forced.”
“People line up for this treatment,” Ephraim said.
“Honestly, yes.”
“Can I talk to Altruance and Sophie before I do this? Either one is fine. If I could just—”
Elle shook her head. “I’m sorry. They’re already under.”
“They’ve already started treatment?”
Elle nodded.
“How long ago?”
Elle looked at the lawyer. He tapped his screen. “Forty minutes ago for Mr. Brown. Fifty-two for Ms. Norris.”
“Fifty-two minutes!” Ephraim looked at Elle. “We … we’ve barely been here that long!”
“Your tram docked one hour and fourteen minutes ago,” said the lawyer.
“You had more questions and concerns than they did. That’s why your procedure is taking longer,” Elle said. “Nobody’s blaming you.”
“I didn't say you were blaming me.”
“Everyone takes things at their own pace.”
“What about the other people we saw?” Ephraim directed the question to Elle. Together, just before they’d entered the Enchanted Forest, they’d watched a second tram pull up, and another party greet a set of fresh arrivals to the Pearl.
“They’re under, too.”
The lawyer tapped his screen. “Thirty-six minutes, thirty-four minutes, and—”
“Nobody takes the tour? Nobody asks questions? Everyone else just lays down and goes to sleep?”
“There is always some reticence,” Elle says. “There is always an initial moment of fear.”
“But they go.”
She nodded.
“Nobody has any doubts about any of this.” It was a statement more than a question. Ephraim looked to the lawyer, who was no help at all. Then back to Elle, who looked almost sorry for him. “Nobody thinks it’s worth figuring out before submitting to a process that shuffles all your fucking genes like a deck of cards?”
“Mr. Todd, You’re just more inquisitive than most of our guests. Everyone is different.”
“How is that possible?” He looked hard at Elle. “How often does someone have these questions?” Elle opened her mouth, but Ephraim waved his hands to clear the air and gave her a more specific question. “How many people take an hour to look around before committing?”
Elle looked uncomfortable. She and the lawyer traded glances. “Nobody, honestly. I don’t think it’s ever happened.”
“I don’t believe that!”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Elle said, holding up a pacifying hand. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. I wouldn’t have even mentioned it if you hadn’t asked, but—”
“What if I want out? What if I want to call this off and take the tram back to the Retreat?”
“If you’re uncomfortable at all, I suggest you do that,” she said. “No hard feelings on either side. It’s just a service, like any other.”
The lawyer tapped his screen, possibly deciding this transaction was over.
Sure. Call it off. Relinquish your VIP status.
But then what? Would they kick him off Eden? Send him to Eden jail? And what of Fiona? Or Jonathan?
“Wait,” Ephraim said. “I’m not saying no. But I want you to set me up so I can see a before and after.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I want you to take a sample of my blood or hair or whatever you need before you put me under. You showed me the little foot lockers for our belongings, right? I want the ‘before’ put in there. I want to set the combination myself, so there’s no way you can get into it while I’m undergoing treatment.”
“You can set your password, and make it as complicated as you want, ideally an entire sentence that means something to you. Those boxes can’t be opened without drilling. But the question is, what—?”
“Okay. You do that. And we’ll put my ‘before’ samples in the box. Then when I’m done, I want you to take an ‘after’ sample.”
“Why?”
“I want to compare them. Or even better, I want to have someone on the mainland do it. I want to be able to verify that you’re not doing any weird shit to me. Messing with my DNA in ways you weren’t supposed to.”
“Mr. Todd, we always—”
“And I don’t want you rewinding decades like Sophie or Altruance. Just make me a little bit younger. Five years or so. Got it?”
“Whatever you want,” Elle said, trading confused glances with the lawyer. “You’re the guest.”
Ephraim nodded, his heart banging against
his ribcage. He was agitated, but at least he finally felt a modicum of control. “Do that, and we have a deal.”
“Mr. Todd,” Elle said, “this procedure isn’t one we want our guest to undertake if they have even the smallest degree of—”
“I don’t,” Ephraim said, “as long as you agree with what I said.”
There was a long, still moment. Elle looked at the lawyer, asking unspoken questions. The lawyer nodded.
Then Elle broke the silence, her eyes fluttering as if trying to reset whatever had happened. “Yes, of course.”
Ephraim sat back, his breath heavier than he wanted it.
The lawyer tapped his screen. Then he reached forward and nudged the tablet toward Ephraim.
“Sign here, please.”
CHAPTER 41
YOU'LL BARELY FEEL A THING
Elle escorted Ephraim across another expansive green lawn, through another perfectly manicured garden overlooking another gorgeous view of white sand beaches below.
He was already numb to the beauty. He tried to see it as he walked a step behind her, but during their quiet crossing of the grounds, he kept having flashes.
Flashes of Jonathan.
Imagined flashes of Altruance and Sophie and God knew who else, asleep in their glass coffins, rolling back years like a film in reverse.
Real flashes of Fiona’s message with its warning. Ephraim was well-versed in reading between the lines, so he was reasonably certain that her text boiled down to Trust nothing and no one. And to think, Fiona called him paranoid.
Flashes of monsters, of dead twins, of men with black beards in pursuit. All of which felt like dreams in the bright sun of a new daytime.
They entered a building Ephraim had noticed before with a glance, charming white-stone architecture without any glass. Small, pretty, and out of place. A fountain out front filled with koi, but no windows. The front door was plated in tile, and at first Ephraim thought the entrance was made of stone as well.
Inside, the light was all artificial. No skylights. It wasn’t dim, but after the bright sun it took his eyes a while to adjust. There was a minuscule entrance foyer with room for little more than a desk clerk. Beyond that was a room replete with the sounds of running water. Inside, Ephraim saw that the ceiling appeared to be raining into a large pool that occupied most of the room’s center, crossed by a single walkway, where entrants were destined to get wet.
There was also a ten-foot-wide circle of solid ground (tile again) outside the pool. Elle took him halfway around it, ending up across the chamber without crossing its center.
Ephraim could barely find his voice. “What is this place?”
“Preparation.” She said it like the name of a destination, not a state of readiness.
She pushed an unmarked door open, and they entered a dim chamber off the pool room that, judging by the other doors around the edges, may have been one of many identical rooms. A single chair stood in the center, tilted slightly backward, with an attached metal footrest like a barber’s chair, mounted to the floor by a thick metal pole beneath the seat. A tidy-looking man with small round glasses stood beside it. Smiling, of course.
“Have a seat, please,” Elle said.
“I thought you were taking me to the Enchanted Forest. Isn’t that where Altruance and Sophie are?” Ephraim didn’t know why, but this was suddenly very important. Sophie and Altruance would both be unconscious, naked, sprawled in glass boxes, wearing all sorts of sensory headgear — maybe floating in broth for all he’d seen. But Ephraim wanted them near him. For comfort as they dreamed together.
“You need to be prepped.”
“You didn’t mention prep before. Sophie didn’t say anything about prep.”
“Sophie had never been through this procedure before today.” Elle smiled. “But I assure you, she did the same.”
“And then what? You’ll carry me over to the Forest? Naked?”
“The details are unimportant, Mr. Todd.”
“Bullshit. The building you showed me was in the other direction. Why would you prep me all the way over here if I’ll end up there?”
There was a pricking sensation on his right arm. Ephraim looked over, ready to swat an insect, and saw the man in glasses moving away with a syringe.
“What did you just inject me with?”
“Please. Just sit.” As Elle indicated the chair, Ephraim watched the man squeeze the syringe into a small vial, then use a Sharpie to write on it.
He hadn’t injected anything; he’d taken the “before” sample Ephraim had requested. But how had the guy drawn blood without searching for a vein? Or had he even taken blood? Maybe he’d taken skin cells. Or hair. Or flesh. Maybe the thing he’d used wasn’t even a syringe. Ephraim looked at his arm and saw a tiny red starfish just above his elbow joint. He felt the dull ache.
He took the vial and slipped it inside a miniature version of the lockers Elle had shown him earlier. He asked Ephraim to set a password and Ephraim did while the other two turned away.
It locked when he was done, with the sample inside. But no matter — if Evermore could open the box without Ephraim’s permission (likely and impossible to disprove), he’d have plenty of “before” genetic markers out in the world. His hairbrush back home, for instance, was full of Original Ephraim.
Elle was gesturing toward the chair. “Please.”
Reluctantly, Ephraim sat. Elle handed him a tablet.
“More manuals about the Tomorrow Gene?” Ephraim asked.
“One final NDA,” Elle answered. Her long, lily-white finger reached for the tablet and ticked its screen sideways. Another dense legal document appeared.
“I’ve signed like six NDAs since coming to Eden. And you just told me these documents don’t mean anything in the courts of any country anyway.”
“They’re valid under Eden law,” Elle said.
“And?”
“And this one is different. Did you read the section, in the disclosure, about the continuity component of the Tomorrow Gene?”
“You mean the part where it costs like two hundred grand a year even after you get the treatment, just to maintain it?”
“That’s right. In order to keep you ‘in tune’ — telomeres insulated, sun and otherwise ambient damage repairable, free radicals scavenged, the works — we need a complete genome map as of Day Zero, which is today. It’s not impossible to create complete maps later, but we can never get a true Day Zero again once treatment is complete. It’s necessary for optimal results. This last document specifies that if you violate the nondisclosure agreement, Eden will autoclave your Day Zero samples and cut you from continuity. It means that you won’t just revert to your true genetic age with time, but that it’ll be nearly impossible to turn your clock back again in the future.”
“I get one chance. And if I open my mouth about what happens here, I blow it.”
“That’s correct, Mr. Todd. But I’ll remind you that Evermore doesn’t want you signing anything you aren’t one hundred percent comfortable with.”
Ephraim looked from the document to Elle. Then from her to the man with the tiny round glasses, who even now was lining severe-looking medical instruments on the silver tray beside his chair.
Everything is fine. Altruance and Sophie did this.
And what they said was true. If anything happened to Ephraim, his friends would speak up. Serving Ephraim was in Evermore’s best interests. And besides — he couldn’t go back now. He’d come this far. This was the only way. The only way to know about Jonathan. The only way to get off the island.
“After I’m prepped,” Ephraim said, “you’ll carry me to the other building?”
“You will be wheeled on a gurney. But yes, Mr. Todd.”
“Why do you prep here and not near the Forest?”
“This is just how it’s done.”
“And you’re saying Altruance did this. And Sophie. Already, just today.”
“Everyone does it, Ephraim.” Elle put her ha
nd on his, then another on his leg as he sat in the chair, perhaps too high up to be entirely appropriate. And had she just called him Ephraim instead of “Mr. Todd”? Why was she suddenly so familiar? Was it to comfort him through his descending unease?
There was no way out. Only through — and the way it sounded, only Ephraim had problems with any of this.
“Fine.”
Fiona’s text: We need to talk about what you sent. Call soon. JUST US. They know.
But Fiona wasn’t here. Ephraim had wanted to try calling again but hadn’t found a way. Maybe he should delay this. Stop it, make the call, and come back. But he doubted he’d get a chance if he tried later, and then he’d never know what happened to his brother.
And besides, Fiona probably wouldn’t answer. She’d been ignoring him for days.
He was starting to feel better. Maybe the doctor — if he was a doctor — had injected him with something after all.
It would be fine. He felt lightheaded. A good kind.
“Just your thumbprint on the NDA, then.” Elle’s hand moved to Ephraim’s. She lifted it to the tablet then held the tablet in the other hand as if he didn’t know how — or was unable — to do it himself.
Ephraim looked at Elle. She smiled. She was so very close. So very pretty. He felt dizzy, as if inhaling gas. Her skin was soft on his. She carefully folded his fingers under, turning his hand into a thumbs-up. Then she moved the thumb close to the tablet.
“This is standard procedure?” Ephraim’s words felt sluggish. He was having trouble forming them. It didn’t seem standard. But with this sudden onset of “feeling pretty good,” he cared so much less.
Elle didn’t really say yes. She was half pressed against him. Her answer came out more like, “Mmm-hmm.” Almost a purr.
He pressed his thumb to the glass, and a phrase above the box grabbed his attention. It was gone before he could read it again, but his mind knew what it had seen.
“The duration of this contract,” he said, looking up at Elle. “It says, ‘Until death or longer.’”
A new masculine hand took Ephraim’s other arm by the wrist and turned it veins-up.
“Just relax, sir,” said the man in glasses. “You’ll barely feel a thing.”
