Unforgotten

by Jessica Brody

  “Fine,” I say. I gesture toward the living room. “He reminds me so much of you.”

  Cody smiles, sipping his wine. “It’s funny. I see myself in him more and more every day. It’s strange when you have a kid. Because they pick up so many of your personality traits without even trying. It’s buried in their genetic code…” His voice trails off and his gaze darts from me to his wineglass.

  I’m suddenly curious. “Are you saying personality gets passed down in your DNA?”

  Cody glances anxiously toward his wife and son in the next room. It’s the first time we’ve talked about who I am since I let him watch my memories. “W-w-well…” he stammers, keeping his voice low, “that’s, you know, the common belief. There are many theories. It’s hard to say.”

  “It’s okay, Cody. You can tell me.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Here’s the strange thing. They’ve found personality genes within the human genome. But you…” Once again, he looks too nervous to continue.

  I raise my eyebrows to encourage him.

  “Well, because your DNA was manufactured by a computer, without a parental source, I don’t know where your personality came from. You should technically behave like a robot. But you don’t. Which means you must have gotten it from somewhere.”

  That’s exactly what Alixter told me. That it was believed I would behave like a machine. That I wouldn’t have much of a personality. But I did. And that’s why Rio had a change of heart about me. Why he agreed to help set me free.

  So what went wrong? Where did my identity come from?

  Was it possible the scientists were mistaken about where someone’s personality comes from?

  “Dad!” Reese calls from the next room. “I can’t steer it on my own!”

  “Coming!” Cody flashes me an apologetic look and then returns to the game.

  I watch as their normal Wednesday carries on innocently through the night. As though the world is not crumbling to pieces outside the window. As though a dangerous superhuman from the future is not out there somewhere searching the city for me. As though there is nothing more important in life than a five-year-old and his game.

  I attempt to soak in their laughter. Let it saturate my skin. Maybe somewhere, deep within me, it will settle and stick and weather the storm that I know is far from over.

  I try to capture their happiness and swaddle myself in it, hoping it will help me create my own bubble. Like the one Zen lived in for so long. I use it to try to block out my thoughts, drain my mind, silence my fears.

  So that I won’t have to wonder whether or not I’ll ever have this.

  Whether or not I’ll ever be part of a real family.

  So that I’ll never have to face the answer. The truth.

  That, most likely, I won’t.

  The harrowing reality of the situation hits me without warning. Collides into me like a planet.

  This idyllic, carefree Wednesday night is borrowed. Temporarily on loan. It will never be mine. Because I will never be able to sit in a room and not wonder if someone is waiting on the other side of the door to take me away. I will never be able to listen to a child’s laughter without turning my other ear toward the too-silent night. I will never be able to sleep without dreaming of machines that saw your heart in half and scientists who want to surgically remove your soul.

  In the end, no matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter whether or not I save Zen’s life, I will never be free of them.

  Diotech will always be lingering outside my window.

  Waiting for me to reveal myself.

  While Cody and his family are still distracted by their game, I quietly rise from the couch and steal down the hallway to the guest room. I creak open the door and slip into the darkened room, lit only by the soft white glow of Cody’s computer. I ease the door closed behind me, rest my forehead against it, and shut my eyes, listening to the reassuring sounds of Zen’s breath and the pulse of the machines monitoring his life.

  Then, climbing into bed next to him, pressing my body as close to him as I can, I cry into the solid, unyielding surface of his cheek.

  41

  ASSAULT

  Water pours into my lungs. Warm and stale. Tasting of flesh and desert dust. I have no choice but to let it in. Let it spread. Replacing air with liquid. Heavy, gasping breaths with silence.

  I try. I really try. Thrashing. Kicking. My arms just above the surface, punching the air. But it’s useless. Nothing connects. My attacker is too quick. Too attuned to my limitations.

  The fight is over now.

  I open my eyes, struggling to see through the lingering ripples. The splashing has stopped. His face becomes clearer as the water settles. But still not clear enough. All I can make out is the determination in his eyes. The rage that contorts his features. The look of a madman.

  His large hands continue to press against my shoulders. Pinning me to the hard surface of the bathtub floor. If I could speak I would tell him that he can let go now. I already have.

  The light starts to flicker. The blackout is coming. I long for it. I welcome it with open arms. At least it will end this unbearable burning in my chest. This throbbing in my temples. That look in his eyes.

  The shadows creep in, like a thick, heavy veil. I feel the pressure lift from my shoulders. His task is complete. My weightless body begins to float upward. Toward the surface. Toward the light.

  As I break through, I see his radiant aquamarine eyes piercing the darkness and I know.

  I’ve always known.

  * * *

  I wake tangled in the sheets and drenched in sweat. It would seem my morning routine has not changed since I left the Pattinsons’ farm.

  Warming daylight streams through the window, illuminating the guest room of Cody’s town house, reminding me of where I am, of everything that’s happened.

  Zen is still sleeping peacefully next to me, seemingly undisturbed by my nightmare and the thrashing that most likely occurred as a result. I wonder if Cody slipped Zen more of whatever drug he used to subdue him last night.

  I climb out of the bed and tiptoe into the kitchen. The house is completely deserted. Zen and I appear to be the only ones here. In the kitchen, I find a plate of food sitting on the counter and a digital note typed next to it.

  Went to the lab to run some tests.

  Be back soon.

  —C

  I didn’t notice it last night but the countertop appears to double as a giant screen. I spend a few minutes playing around with it, marveling at its functionality. I can drag the note across the large surface with my fingertips, rotate it in any direction I want, make it bigger or smaller by pinching my thumb and forefinger together or moving them apart. I can layer it over photos and documents that are scattered throughout, creating virtual stacks.

  One of the digital items catches my eye. It’s an orange-and-white gradient square with a single row of black numbers running across it. On the top it reads Magnum Ball Lotto with a date from last week. Unable to make sense of it, I return it to the pile and scroll through a collection of photos.

  After the novelty of the countertop screen wears off, I slide onto one of the stools and start to eat the breakfast Cody left out for me. Once again, it’s delicious. Some kind of fluffy egg dish mixed with various vegetables and cheeses. The covered metal dish it’s served on has somehow kept the meal warm. I’ve nearly devoured all of it when a small blue bubble appears on the screen below the plate.

  It’s a message from Cody.

  Are you awake?

  I click on the button labeled “Reply” and a keyboard appears. I drag it to the right, away from my plate, and type out a response.

  Yes.

  After pressing Send, I watch the word disappear and rematerialize as a green bubble under Cody’s question. A few seconds pass before Cody’s next message pops up in blue.

  Can you come to the lab? There’s something I think you should see.

  Panic floods through me.
>
  He’s found something.

  Something about Zen.

  I haven’t even finished chewing by the time I’ve transessed into Cody’s lab, steadying myself against the wall as the small wave of dizziness fades.

  Cody jumps upon seeing me. “Wow. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that.”

  “What is it?” I ask, my voice frantic. “What did you find?”

  “Were you able to eat the breakfast I left for you?”

  He’s stalling. Putting off bad news. “Cody.” My tone is dripping with desperation. Begging him.

  Please don’t make me wait for this.

  He seems to understand. “Okay,” he agrees, and takes a deep breath. I swear I can feel every particle of carbon dioxide that he exhales hitting my face like a million tiny drops of acid. “Well, I finished running all the tests.”

  Cloudiness starts to curtain my vision. “And…”

  It’s the only word I can manage to get out. One syllable. Three little letters. A universe of mass riding on it. I swallow, wetting my parched throat, but it does no good. The moisture evaporates instantaneously.

  Cody scratches his chin and beckons me over to his desk. He points to the large ultrathin monitor that sits atop it.

  He inputs a numeric password to unlock the screen. His fingers fly rapidly over the keyboard, but my eyes catch the series of seemingly random digits as he enters them.

  7123221157778

  The screen flashes and then reveals a collection of data that I don’t understand. Lines and lines of letters and values that make no sense to me. Cody points to one column and says, “This is the code of a normal human genome.” Then he points to the column next to it. “This is a breakdown of Zen’s DNA.”

  The discrepancy jumps out at me immediately. I point to a line in the data. “That one is different.”

  Cody nods. “Yes.” He taps the screen, enlarging that section until only a small subset of letters is visible. “This is the reason Zen is sick.”

  My mouth falls open and I gaze up at him. “Because of his DNA?”

  “Because of this one gene in his DNA. I’ve never seen a gene like this in my research. It’s very complex. Definitely man-made. And Zen’s body is attacking it.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “It would seem the gene is too powerful and his immune system is treating it like a virus. It’s trying to get rid of it. Essentially his body is destroying itself.”

  “But what is it?” I ask, panicked. “Why would Zen have a gene that no one else has? He’s just a normal…”

  My voice trails off. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Rio warned me. He warned me when he gave it to me. He told me this could happen. And I ignored it. I blocked it from my memory. Until now.

  “If something goes wrong and you have no way to disable it, the gene could destroy you. Slowly eat you alive from the inside out. You wouldn’t even know until it was too late.”

  It’s why he gave me the locket in the first place. So that I would have the ability to turn the gene on and off. But Zen didn’t have anything. I knew I would never get him to trust Rio enough to allow him to install something similar in his genetic code. Which means his gene has been active this whole time, slowly destroying him.

  “It’s his transession gene,” I reply numbly, almost forgetting that Cody is in the room with me. “It’s killing him.”

  “That was my conclusion, too,” Cody admits softly, and I realize that he must have seen those memories: the one where I learned about the transession gene and the one where Rio told me about my locket.

  But wait, I think. What about Kaelen?

  He doesn’t have anything that activates or deactivates his gene. At least, not as far as I could tell. Why isn’t the gene making him sick? Was Zen’s gene somehow faulty? Did something go wrong when it was implanted?

  Regardless of what the problem is, there’s obviously only one way to fix it.

  I grab Cody’s hands, squeezing them urgently. “You have to deactivate the gene. Just take it out. I don’t care if he’s trapped here forever, at least he’ll be alive.”

  But Cody shakes his head regretfully. “I can’t. Like I said, it’s complex. Tightly interwoven with the rest of his DNA. There isn’t a scientist alive today who would be able to remove it. We’ve learned a lot more about genetics in the past few decades, but this is something else. Something I’ve never seen before. A human being’s genetic code is like a complicated tapestry. You pull one string the wrong way and the whole thing falls apart.”

  “Are you saying there’s nothing you can do?” My voice is rising now, chock-full of growing despair. “That we’re supposed to stand by and watch him die?!”

  Cody grimaces and reaches out to touch my hand.

  “No!” I screech, brusquely pulling my hand away. “I won’t do that. There has to be a way to stop it from killing him!”

  And then suddenly I feel a thin layer of ice coating my skin as I retrace Cody’s words. As they chime restlessly inside my brain like bells gonging.

  “There isn’t a scientist alive today who would be able to remove it.”

  I don’t think he realizes how right he is.

  “I know who can disable the gene,” I say, my voice sounding like it’s coming from far away. Somewhere deep in the future. Eighty-three years to be exact.

  Cody’s eyebrows shoot up. “Who?”

  I draw in a long breath, feeling it energize me. Renew my hope. There’s only one person in the world who knows enough about the transession gene to save Zen’s life.

  “The woman who created it.”

  42

  DEDUCTION

  I pace the length of Cody’s lab, memories and numbers and data streaming through my mind like rain. This discovery has suddenly turned everything on its head.

  The gene is what’s been making Zen sick. Not some mysterious disease.

  And if Kaelen was telling the truth, and he knew all along that it was the gene, then he must also know how to turn the gene off, essentially leaving me with two options at this point. And the second one—the one that requires me to give Diotech what they want—is completely out of the question.

  Which means I have to go with option one. It means there’s only one person who can help me now.

  “Her name is Dr. Rylan—”

  “Maxxer,” Cody finishes, his voice rigid and remote.

  Once again, for some reason, her name sends an unexpected flare of anger blazing through me and I’m forced to stop pacing and grab on to something to steady myself.

  What was that?

  It was like a hot rage. As though I’d stepped across some kind of invisible battle line into enemy territory and could feel the resentment lingering in the air like smoke.

  But just as soon as it came, the sensation is gone.

  I study Cody’s indignant expression. “So you know.”

  “That I met her and she erased the entire day from my mind and replaced it with a bogus memory of something that never happened? Yes.” His eyes are locked on a fixed point across the room. His jawline is taut.

  I can tell that he’s angry. And suddenly I know that this was the memory that finally pushed him over the edge. The reason he ripped off the receptors and stalked out of the room.

  “She did it to protect you.”

  “She had no right to make that choice for me!” he growls back. “No right to mess with my head like that.”

  “I know how you feel,” I relate. “There was a point when I had more fake memories in my head than real ones.”

  Cody grunts and crosses his arms over his chest. “And that thing she used to knock me out. What’s it called again?”

  I pull the black device from my pocket and plunk it down on the countertop. “A Modifier.”

  Cody hisses out a breath as he stares at the contraption sitting in his lab. He bends down and examines it without daring to touch it.

  “I don’t know exactly how it works,” I offer
. “I just know that it does something to your brain waves and basically puts you to sleep.”

  Cody shakes his head. “That’s messed up.”

  “Yes,” I agree. “But right now, Dr. Maxx—” I stop myself from saying her name, feeling the strange fury start to bubble up again. “That woman is the only one who can help me. Who can help Zen. I have to find her.”

  “Well, do you have any idea where she could be?”

  I throw my hands in the air. “No! That’s the problem. I don’t have the first clue. She could be anywhere. You saw how much trouble she went through to keep her whereabouts a secret.” I gesture toward the Modifier still lying on the counter. “That’s the reason she deactivated us both in the first place. So we couldn’t see where she was hiding.”

  Cody suddenly goes very still. It almost looks like his body is starting to withdraw into itself.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Cody?”

  He doesn’t respond. Just keeps staring at an unidentified point across the room. I take a careful step toward him, almost afraid that if I move too fast, I might startle him.

  But in reality, he’s the one who ends up startling me.

  He suddenly soars into action, darting to the wall behind me, which I now see is a giant, virtual whiteboard. He clears away all the existing scribbles of notes and symbols with a sweep of his hand and plucks a pen-like device from a nearby magnet.

  “Cody,” I begin warily. “What are you doing?”

  But again, he doesn’t respond. He just starts scrawling.

  At the top of the space, he writes Invents Transession and draws a circle around it.

  Then clockwise down to the right, he writes Cody’s memories erased. Circles it.

  He continues in an arc with the phrases Hidden Location, Implanted Memory Map, and Capable of Disabling Malfunctioning Gene, until he’s formed a complete circle.

  “Don’t you see?” he says, tapping the empty center. “This Maxxer woman is the one common factor in all of this.”

  He scribbles Maxxer in the middle of the circle and underlines it twice.