by Sean Platt
“How many fights do you think we had about bacon and Pop Tarts?”
“Surprisingly many. And to think — we might have had harmony in our house if Mom had just taken my bacon out of the pan a few minutes earlier than yours. Not a hard problem to solve.”
Jonathan inhaled, exhaled, and looked toward the patio doors while taking his first crispy bite. “Yeah, well. Cooking was the least of her shortcomings. ‘Bout the only thing she ever cooked needed a lighter and a spoon.” Another long, slow sigh. Then Ephraim watched Jonathan set their past aside as his face reset.
“Look. I know we didn’t exactly part on great terms. And I guess we’re not going to see eye to eye on this whole thing. You want to fight about it, cool. We can tussle. But I was wondering if we could maybe get to know each other again first? It’s been a long time. We could use some catching up.”
Ephraim shook his head, also looking away. “I’m too tired to fight.”
“Maybe you’ll get your strength back. You’re still recovering.”
“I’d rather use my new youth to go surfing. I don’t want to waste it arguing with you.” Ephraim took another bite of bacon. Then he added, “Fun as it is.”
Thirty seconds of silence, broken only by the chewing.
“Do you want to know why I didn’t get the Tomorrow Gene myself?” Jonathan asked.
“No.”
“It was because I always hoped we’d have a chance to catch up again. I figured that when we did, I could show you that my reasons weren’t entirely selfish.”
“I thought we weren’t going to fight?”
“I just wanted you to know.”
Ephraim nodded. They shouldn’t keep talking Tomorrow Gene, Eden, Wallace, or anything remotely relevant to the present. The problem was, their shared past wasn’t much better.
There had been plenty of arguments, and there’d been the tragedy involving Damaris. And through it all there was their junkie mother, poverty, Jonathan’s relentless drive to improve his station versus Ephraim’s insistence on minding his responsibilities. Technically they’d both left their mother when it became clear that a happy ending would be coming never after. But although Jonathan had washed his hands of her quickly, the need to care for their mother despite her shortcomings had racked Ephraim with guilt until the day he’d learned she’d been reduced to uncollected ashes.
“What’s it like here, Jonathan?”
“It’s nice. I don’t always stay on the Denizen, though. The rules say that nobody comes here, even guests. Wallace and I are the only exceptions.”
“Where is Wallace? Can I meet him?”
“Maybe. He’s a strange man.”
It felt like a dead end. Ephraim backtracked.
“So you hop around all the islands?”
Jonathan nodded. “I take a strange pride in them. Evermore built the place, and in the beginning ‘the Evermore Corporation’ was only Wallace. When I came here, ‘Eden’ wasn’t much more than a temporary seastead home half the size of an oil rig. It was big, but even ‘big’ feels small when you realize you can’t go anywhere else. I was afraid to go ashore because … you know.”
He peeked at Ephraim, noted their truce, and continued.
“When the barges started to come in and backfill sand onto the reef, I watched it happen like a man having his home built — which was, when you think about it, true. Little by little Wallace made this place into what it is now. I take pride in it. I want to see it all.”
“Even the islets? Even the places nobody’s allowed to go?”
Jonathan gave Ephraim an appraising look. He seemed to be wondering if this was a jab or an accusation about Eden’s famous secrecy — and possible nefarious intentions.
“Everywhere, yes.”
“Hmm,” Ephraim said.
Another long spell of silence.
Finally, Jonathan set to break the quiet. Ephraim could tell by his dark, lined face that he was about to say something uncomfortable — clearly something he’d been considering saying, knowing it might not be well received.
“I’ve been thinking. You’ve been here for three days now.”
“Three days?”
“Asleep through most of it,” Jonathan agreed. “I’ve had plenty of time to think. About you. About us, as brothers. About what it must have taken for you to come here. Someone sent you. Didn’t they?”
Ephraim tried to think fast, but Jonathan beat him.
“It’s okay. I know the answer. I’ve kept tabs on you, Ephraim. I couldn’t help it. I know you haven’t become the industrialist here on ‘stress leave’ that your official Eden record claims you to be. I know you’re eking out a small but respectable life on the mainland. You couldn’t have fabricated all you did on your own. I saw your lenses. I saw the detail in the falsification trail. I think I know who sent you, but it hardly matters. The point is nobody would bankroll your visit here just to give you closure. Maybe you came here to find me. But whoever backed your trip? That’s not why they sent you.”
“Look, Jonathan …”
“It’s not important. I don’t care why you came. The only person who might care is Wallace, but I’m not planning to tell him.”
Ephraim watched his brother. Where was this going? It felt genuine. Not like a threat, which it might otherwise easily be.
“If you’d like,” Jonathan continued, “you can go home. Take what you’ve discovered back to whoever. That’s your business. I don’t think you have anything proprietary on Eden anyway, and as I’m sure you’ve figured out, the NDA doesn’t hold water off this island. You can tell your sponsor what any Tomorrow Gene guest knows. It’d just mean we wouldn’t let you come back here, but I imagine you don’t care. Over a few years, if you don’t get booster treatments, your body will regress to its true age. But again, so what? You didn’t plan to leave Eden younger than you came anyway.”
Ephraim waited for the rub. His brother was building to something.
“I guess what I’m saying is, you can complete the mission you came here to do. I won’t stop you. I don’t know how impressed the world will be with what you have, but that’s your business. That’s Choice Number One, the default option. You can leave now, go home, do whatever, and don’t come back. That means the end of us, by the way. Not because I’ll be angry, but because Wallace won’t let you back to Eden — and my circumstances, considering I’ve spent so long digging myself a hole, make it impossible for me to leave.”
“Or?”
“Or you can stay here.”
Ephraim laughed.
“What is there for you out there anyway, little brother?” Jonathan said. “I’m sure your job is easily replaceable. You don’t have kids. And you’ve never been married. But even your cover story holds up for people here, without having to tell them the truth. Since your supposed wife left with your supposed kids, we’ll say you were distraught and decided to stay on Eden.”
“And the fact that we just so happen to be brothers? It’s obvious, just looking at us.”
“We’ll come up with something. Maybe you knew I’d come here and that’s what put the bug in your ass to visit Eden someday, too — not to conduct espionage to find me, but just as an idea. You respected my work, so when your company sent you to de-stress somewhere, this was where you wanted to come. Eden is a destination, Ephraim. People of means come here for a variety of reasons.”
“How would you say I’m affording my stay?”
“We can say the company paid for your initial visit, which is already on the books. Then we happily reconciled and I invoked nepotism to keep you here. No charge. Wallace won’t mind. He’s a family man himself.”
“He is?” As far as the world knew, Wallace Connolly was a confirmed bachelor. All that mattered to Wallace, supposedly, was Eden and his work. It was impossible for Ephraim, based on public perceptions, to believe Connolly cared about anything outside a lab.
“It’s an amazing place to live, Ephraim. You could work with us, even.
Or not; I don’t care. I’m just tired of being alone.”
“What about Elle?”
“I’m not the one fucking her. You are.”
Ephraim wanted to say, I am? But that was a weird question for another time.
“I meant, what about the fact that she knows how this all happened? Won’t her version of things contradict your story? You already said she’d have to know after all she’s seen. She’s not stupid.”
“It’s not a problem, Ephraim.”
“Why not?”
“It’s just not. So what do you think?”
“That it’s absurd.”
“But why? I’m offering you a chance to live in paradise. For free. With your brother. Not in the same house, but nearby. What do you have back home, Ephraim?”
He didn’t want to say it, but the answer was clear. Nothing. Worse. Less than nothing, now that he’d found Jonathan. For years, single-minded pursuit of answers had been the fuel in his tank. But now, after he went back and reported to Fiona, Ephraim wouldn’t even have his mission to drive him. He’d know the answers; he’d know Jonathan was alive, well, and living an ideal life in the tropics. There’d been no foul play. He couldn’t even use his newly freed time to plot revenge on Evermore because the company had done nothing to earn revenge. He’d have nothing for every day that followed.
“It’s not practical. It’s crazy.”
“Goddammit, Ephraim, just step outside of your fucking box for a second!” Between them, he’d always been the creative thinker while Ephraim colored inside the lines. “You’re stuck inside yesterday’s thoughts. Throw that away for a minute and think. What’s the situation? What makes sense? To do what you’d planned to do, or is it to consider what I’m telling you right now?”
“I don’t know.”
Jonathan held up his hands. “Okay, you know what? No rush. And you’re fresh off a full-body treatment. So, yeah, let it percolate. Don’t decide now. Stick around for a while. Suspend judgment entirely and just be here. Relax. That’s what you’re supposed to be doing anyway, right?”
“Sure.” Ephraim nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”
Jonathan nodded back, and Ephraim noticed something curious in the gesture. Jonathan was nodding mostly to himself. Seeing it, Ephraim felt bad for him. Ephraim had been alone, but at least he’d had hate and revenge to drive him. Guilt had been Jonathan’s constant companion. He wanted Ephraim to stay and forgive him. He maybe even needed it.
“Good,” he said. “Thank you.”
“I’ll try to keep an open mind. I promise to think about it.”
Even more relieved-sounding, Jonathan said, “Great. Perfect. Because man, I can’t lose you. I already lost one sibling. I don’t think I can take losing her little brother, too.”
“Do you mean me?” he said. “‘Damaris’s little brother’?”
“Who else would I mean?”
Ephraim tried on a too-small smile, then held it until Jonathan began clearing plates.
The scrambled eggs were untouched, but Ephraim wouldn’t be partaking. He wasn’t all that hungry anymore.
Because Ephraim had been older than Damaris, not younger.
CHAPTER 47
FISHING
Ephraim’s Doodad pinged again. He’d forgotten to silence it, despite reminding himself.
Jonathan looked up. “Who keeps messaging you?”
Ephraim thought fast. “It’s Altruance Brown.”
“So now you’re buddies with Altruance Brown?” Jonathan pointed, rising from his seat. Without thinking how it might look, Ephraim tipped the phone’s screen out of view. Jonathan hesitated, then continued. “Hey. Ask him if he can get us Gators tickets. Center court or I’m not going.”
Ephraim saw Jonathan’s smile and forced himself to return it. But it wasn’t easy. After the kitchen incident, Ephraim had rationalized Jonathan’s gaffe as a slip of the tongue. But later, in the living room, Ephraim asked a question: How old were you when Damaris died? And Jonathan had known immediately.
He’d been nineteen, three years older than Damaris. It was harder for me, being fifteen, Ephraim had said, while Jonathan nodded with sympathy.
But that was all wrong, too. Ephraim had been seventeen and Jonathan twenty when Damaris died at sixteen.
Jonathan returned his attention to his tablet.
Ephraim raised the Doodad and read the message from Fiona.
Urgent. Need to talk. Call immediately.
He’d already taken a chance when he’d sent a simple OK later in response to Fiona’s previous messages. To this one, he replied, Soon. Just typing the few letters and hitting Send made Ephraim nervous. He felt like he’d be caught and crucified for something he was barely doing.
“Altruance wants to hook up,” Ephraim said.
“Really? That’s great. We can head to the Retreat if he’ll host. Or hit a restaurant.”
“He only invited me.” Ephraim made a regretful, sorry face. “I can introduce you to him later, though.”
“Oh.” His expression drooped. “Okay, sure.”
“Do you mind? If I leave the island, I mean?”
“What do you think, that you’re a prisoner?”
“Of course not. I just—”
“Go wherever you want. You’re my guest.”
“I didn’t want to be rude.”
“You’re not being rude.”
“You’re sure?”
Jonathan nodded. “I’m just happy to finally have a chance to spend some time with you again.”
Ephraim pressed his lips in a parody of a smile.
“Now?”
Ephraim nodded. “Can I take your boat? I saw the dock.”
“The tram is faster.”
“Really? That looks like a fast boat.”
“Take the tram. Trust me.”
But Ephraim had found a loose thread and didn’t want to let go. “You ever take that boat out on the open ocean?”
Jonathan gave Ephraim a strange look.
“You know. Marlin fishing and stuff,” Ephraim added.
“I’m not much into fishing.”
“We should go. Maybe tomorrow? I’ll take you. Do you have rods?”
“No. But maybe I can hunt some up.”
“And obviously, we can get to the fish.”
“Sure,” Jonathan said.
“The marlins. I mean marlins.”
“Okay.”
This was maddening. He didn’t like having to push so hard to find out what he needed to know.
“Marlins are in deep water,” Ephraim said. “You know. Out past Eden.”
“I didn’t realize.”
Fuck. Like pulling teeth. “The boat will go that far out, right?”
“Oh. I don’t know. It’s not really my boat. Eden gives them to all the Denizen guests.” He shrugged. “That’s Wallace’s domain. I’m head geneticist. Boats don’t have genes, so I don’t care much about them.”
Ephraim nodded and went for a glass of water. He wanted to hide his face and the expression that was surely stuck there. If the boats were given to guests, they’d have built-in limits. They might not have hard boundaries like Sophie’s, since Denizen guests were, by definition, allowed to reach the Denizen. But they’d surely have Eden navigation systems — the kind that could be remotely commandeered.
“Are there any big boats here?” Ephraim asked, prying too far.
“Like freighters? Sometimes, but they were used a lot more during construction. Most of our shipments come by plane.”
“I meant more like pleasure boats. But … you know. Capable of going out into the ocean.”
“Why are you so into the ocean all of a sudden?”
“Just curious. Because of the marlins.”
Jonathan considered Ephraim as he glanced back. “I guess islet 09 has some big boats.”
“Hmm.”
“Did you want to see them or something? Want me to call in a request to send one over?”
Ye
s. Because I can’t get onto a plane or summon my own. Because I need to sneak away undetected, and a boat that can’t be turned around by some eye in the sky feels like the only option.
“No, we can try yours first. See if it’ll get us out deep enough.” He forced a smile, then patted his pocket to make sure his Doodad was there, eager to place an urgent call the minute open air permitted. Then he looked at Jonathan, said, “Well, I’m off. Don’t wait up,” and started for the door.
He needed to duck away, find a spot away from the tram, and return the damn phone call.
But before Ephraim could exit, Jonathan stood.
“Hold up,” he said. “I’ll take you to the station.”
CHAPTER 48
IN THE PRESENCE OF STRANGERS
Jonathan walked all the way to the station with Ephraim, giving him no privacy to phone Fiona.
He hoped Jonathan would only take him part way. Or that there was an outer gate where they’d part ways, and Ephraim could call during the last hundred yards. Or failing that, maybe he could call from the tram.
But no, no, and no. There were no final hundred yards. The tram had three other occupants — two of whom, Ephraim thought, looked like the much, much younger versions of actors Elise Morton and Colton Thomas. And besides, once the tram left the Denizen’s shores, his window of open reception vanished. On the other islands, there would be only communication zones in which to chat — places that now struck Ephraim as obviously watched and monitored.
As the Retreat neared, Ephraim had an idea that seemed like it might solve the problem. He wouldn’t leave the tram. There wasn’t any need. He only wanted to hit the Retreat for Altruance’s sake, or so he’d told Jonathan. He could simply stay aboard and wait for the tram to recycle. Then return to the Denizen and place his call somewhere secluded now that Jonathan had gone home.
But the outbound tram refused to move after arriving at the station. Elise and Colton’s grandchildren and the other man disembarked. Two new women boarded — again, familiar as younger versions of famous old people. They were staring hard at Ephraim as the tram stayed put.
“Can I help you?” said a woman who looked a lot like classic Stephanie Thacker.
