A shiver runs through me and I pick up my pace until I’ve put a considerable distance between me and the building. It always feels so sinister to me. Thinking of all the memories that enter those doors and never come out. Innumerable bytes of data removed from people’s minds and stored in a pod somewhere.
How many dreams were forgotten in that place?
How many kisses stolen? Loves removed?
It’s almost as though every time I enter those labs, I can feel the memories clinging to the walls, trying so desperately to stay remembered.
Every once in a while I have to go inside. When Dr. A orders a random memory scan. Other than that, I try to stay clear of it.
I hang a left toward the entrance to the gardens, but before I reach it, I hear the distinct sound of footsteps behind me.
I slow to a stop and turn around, looking for the source, but once again, there is no one there. The path is empty. Most of the scientists are still at work.
“Hello?” I call out.
No one replies.
My first thought is that one of the media crew from outside the gates somehow bypassed Director Raze’s security team and is hoping to get a glimpse of me.
But if that were the case, why would they hide from me?
I wait, watching for flickers of movement, but the compound is still.
Feeling uneasy, I spin, focusing on every detail around me. I can hear someone breathing. Maybe fifty feet away. A hundred at most.
I start moving again. This time, I don’t limit my pace. I run. As fast as my genetically enhanced legs will go.
But I don’t get very far. The second I set foot in the gardens, someone tackles me to the ground.
3
MATED
The attacker moves so quickly I barely have time to process what is happening. One minute I’m standing upright and the next I’m lying on my back, a massive body pressing down on me. I grunt at the impact of my head slamming against the ground.
I open my eyes and blink. A face comes into focus. Oval shaped, framed by a fringe of silky dark blond hair that falls across his forehead, veiling his vibrant aquamarine eyes. An impish grin curves his perfect pale pink lips.
“Kaelen,” I say, relieved, releasing a nervous giggle.
“Jouw reflexen zijn traag.”
Translation: Your reflexes are slow.
So he’s switched to Dutch. This morning it was Arabic.
“I wasn’t prepared to be attacked in the middle of the garden.” I defend myself in the same tongue without missing a beat. Kaelen thinks he can trick me, switching languages throughout the day. He hasn’t succeeded once.
“Exactly my point. You should always be prepared.”
I groan and plant two hands on his chest, attempting to shove him off me, but he doesn’t budge. He’s stronger than me. He always has been. He’s the second generation ExGen, while I’m the first.
He likes to joke that he’s an improved version of me.
I like to joke that he’s just a watered-down copy of an original masterpiece.
He smirks at my effort, enjoying watching me struggle. Then he grabs each of my hands in his and pins them down next to my shoulders.
“What are you going to do now?” he goads, keeping with the smooth Dutch.
I puff out a breath, pretending to resign myself, letting my muscles and limbs slacken under him, before launching another escape attempt.
Kaelen only laughs as he continues to restrain me without much effort. “Pitiful.”
“You’re stronger than I am!” I cry. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“You can kiss me back.”
“Wha—?”
And then his lips are on mine, stopping the word from ever being completed. His kiss isn’t soft or tentative. Kaelen doesn’t do soft or tentative. Kaelen does fierce. He does eager. He does commanding. His lips part mine as he releases some of his body weight against me.
He lets go of my wrists and I immediately reach for his hair, loving the way it feels between my fingers. Softer than human hair is supposed to be. I pull him closer to me and he responds instantly by deepening the kiss, reading my body language perfectly, the way only he can do.
The way he’s always been able to do.
We are fluent in every spoken language on earth. But it’s the silent language between us that we speak best.
That’s what happens when you’re Print Mates—created from two complementary genetic blueprints. You can almost feel what the other person is going to do before they do it.
Dr. A says it’s like soul mates but without the heartache. Print Mates are scientifically proven to be compatible matches, while the concept of “soul mates” is just an idea invented by humans a long time ago in an effort to explain the unexplainable.
There’s not much in today’s world that is unexplainable.
Dr. A has made sure of that.
Taking advantage of Kaelen’s distraction, in one swift motion I pull away from him and roll myself to the left. He collapses into the space I just vacated, landing on his stomach with an oomph. Before he has time to process it, I’m on my feet, flashing him a teasing smile.
He grins at the challenge, leaps up, and chases after me. But this time, I have a head start. And I need it. Kaelen is not only stronger than I am, but faster, too.
We weave deftly through the meticulously trimmed hedges and immaculate flower beds of the garden, two blurs of color and laughter. The flowers are in bloom yearlong on the compound, despite the heat and inhospitable growing conditions of the desert. The Agricultural Sector is to thank for that. As well as for the life span of the blossoms once they’re cut. Flowers used to die within days. Now they can brighten someone’s home for months without showing signs of withering.
It’s one of the few advancements made by Diotech I can truly appreciate. Hovercarts and DigiSlates and long-range mutation lasers can certainly make life easier, sometimes even safer. But they don’t do anything to make the world more beautiful.
Eventually Kaelen catches up to me by bounding effortlessly over a hedge taller than both of us. He seizes me around the waist and pulls me back to him, wrapping his strong, chiseled arms around me so I can’t break free. When his lips find mine again, my knees nearly give out.
He presses his hands into the small of my back, sending tingles up my spine. I squeal and press my tongue into his mouth, tangling it around his. I can feel him smiling against me as he pushes back, playfully jockeying for control of the kiss.
“Hello, Sera. Hello, Kaelen,” a voice says, startling us out of our embrace.
I open my eyes and turn my head away from Kaelen’s searching lips. When I see who’s standing there, a glacial chill runs through my veins, erasing all evidence of Kaelen’s warmth.
I was so consumed by our kiss, I didn’t even hear him approach. And apparently neither did Kaelen. So much for his reflexes.
“Hello,” Kaelen replies cordially, smiling toward the man who stands next to a nearby shrub with a pair of red trimming shears dangling from one hand while the other waves wildly in our direction.
Uncomfortable, I quickly fight to disentangle myself from Kaelen’s grasp. He tries to draw me back toward him, murmuring in silky Italian, “Tranquilla. Stai calma.”
He always shifts to Italian when he’s trying to calm me. Or when he’s trying to sweeten his words. He knows the soft vowel sounds help soothe me.
But I can’t. I can’t be in Kaelen’s arms with him standing there.
I can’t even bear to look at the slack-jawed man in the yard with his ill-fitting clothes, unkempt auburn beard, and dust-covered shoes.
“He doesn’t understand what he just saw,” Kaelen assures me.
He thinks this is about the kiss. He thinks I’m embarrassed by our public display of affection. If only it were that simple.
“It’s a nice evening, isn’t it?” the man says in his clumsy, awkward cadence, oblivious to our struggle. “Not too hot for May.”
> I brave a glance in his direction but his vacant stare sends a shudder through me and I have to avert my gaze again.
Kaelen steps in front of me, offering his body as a shield. “It’s almost dark,” he tells the man. “You should head home.” The way he addresses him is the way everyone on this compound addresses him. Like they’re communicating with a small child who was born without the ability to comprehend the world.
When the man speaks again, he fumbles with the shapes of the letters, as though he’s forming them for the first time. “I just thought I’d get a head start on tomorrow’s work. There are a lot of hedges around this place.”
“There are,” Kaelen agrees gently. “But maybe it’s time to call it a day. It’s getting late.”
The man stands eerily still as he stares back at Kaelen. It’s almost a full ten seconds before he responds. “Is it now?”
“It is.”
I eye the entrance to the Residential Sector, not too far from here. I could run. Keep running until I’m home. I could slam the door, push against it with all my strength.
“Tranquilla,” Kaelen repeats. “He won’t hurt you.”
Of course, I know he’s not going to hurt me. The poor man couldn’t hurt a fly. It’s not pain that I’m afraid of. It’s looking into his eyes. It’s seeing the emptiness that stares back. It’s knowing what brilliance used to be there.
It’s knowing that he’s a traitor. Like me.
Just not as lucky.
I got a second chance.
He got … this.
An artificial brain cobbled together with nanoprocessors and synthetic metal. A new life that is insulting in comparison to the one he used to have.
“We have to punish our enemies,” Dr. A once told me. “Otherwise, how will we stop more people from betraying us?”
“What time is it?” the man asks, gazing up at the few stars that have started to appear, as though they might provide the answer.
“It’s almost eight,” Kaelen says.
The man’s mouth hangs slightly ajar as he lets this sink in. “Is it now?”
“It is,” Kaelen confirms. “So you should probably get some rest, right?”
I bury my face in Kaelen’s muscular back, silently willing the man to obey. To leave. His warped face is already going to haunt my dreams tonight. I don’t need that nightmare spilling over into my last few waking hours, too.
“I think you’re right,” the man eventually agrees. “I should probably go home.”
Yes. Go. Please.
“Good night, then.”
“Good night,” Kaelen echoes.
I can’t bring myself to talk.
Because I’m a glitching coward.
I steal a peek through the crook of Kaelen’s elbow and watch the man drop his trimming shears at his feet before turning to walk away. They embed themselves in the grass, red handles up. I finally emerge from behind Kaelen.
Just as the man turns back around.
“Sera,” he says, staring right at me with his dead eyes.
I freeze on the spot. Swallow. Force myself to breathe. Kaelen bumps me on the shoulder, urging me to respond.
I clear my throat and coerce my tongue into motion. “Yes?”
The man smiles. It’s a disconcerting facial contortion that never reaches his eyes. “It’s nice to see you.”
I can feel Kaelen watching me. I can feel the stars watching me. Waiting for my reaction. Waiting to judge me for it.
Dr. A wouldn’t be happy if he knew how much this upsets me. He would call my queasiness weak. He would say I still have the blood of a traitor running through my veins.
I have to prove him wrong.
I stand up straighter, puff out my chest, and in my most affable, detached tone, I say, “It’s nice to see you, too, Rio.”
4
REMINDERS
They have landscaping bots on the compound. They’ve had them for years. And they’re much more efficient and productive than any human gardener. But Dr. A wanted to make an example of his former business partner, previously one of the most gifted scientists on the Diotech compound. He wanted everyone to see what happens when you cross him.
No one is safe from punishment. Not even the cofounder of the company.
I doubt anyone is as disturbed by the sight of him as I am though.
Dr. Havin Rio was the lead scientist of the Genesis Project, the official launch of the Objective, and the project that brought me to life on June 27, 2114. And later Kaelen, on December 19, 2115. But Dr. Rio was long gone by the time Kaelen was created.
He was more than just my creator, though. He lived with me in the cottage for the first months of my life. At one point, I even referred to him as my father.
Then he committed the ultimate betrayal.
He helped set me free.
Just like Lyzender, the boy in my memories, he developed feelings for me. As though I were his real daughter. And he put those feelings before the Objective.
Now he pays the price every day.
The memory starts to billow inside of me. Like a tropical storm brewing, bending the trees until they look like they’re about to snap.
“You saved my life,” I whisper in his ear as I hold the tiny vial in my hands. The transession gene that would allow me to travel through time. The key to my escape.
I feel his body sag. He wraps his arms tightly around me. “It was the least I could do.”
The recollection of our mutually treasonous words makes my stomach twist. Every time I see him wandering around the compound with those trimming shears, I’m reminded of our mistakes. At least he can’t remember his part. At least he doesn’t have to marinate in the guilt every morning when he wakes up. Like a dirty, lukewarm bath.
But I’m grateful for the mercy Dr. A took on me. I was swayed by temptation—corrupted by a boy with maple eyes and a crooked smile—and Dr. A saved me. He gave me a second chance.
Kaelen guides me to a nearby bench and I collapse onto it, my body a trembling, shaking mess.
I shouldn’t react to reminders of my old life this way.
I should be able to shut that part of me down. Put the Objective before everything else.
I should be more like Kaelen.
And I try. I swear I try. But somehow I’m still flawed. Even after my rehabilitation. I just can’t seem to shut it off.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Kaelen is crouched at my feet, his hands on my knees. “Guardami.” The soft Italian returns as he commands me to look at him.
I am shaking so hard, I can’t hold my gaze steady. Everything is convulsing. Inside I’m screaming.
Pull yourself together!
Stop this NOW!
You are no longer weak!
But it’s as though I’m screaming in an empty room and no one is listening.
Where are these emotions coming from?
“Look at me,” Kaelen commands again. This time he grabs my chin and holds it steady. It might be the only part of me not trembling.
“He’s nothing. He doesn’t matter anymore. What is this about? Why are you reacting this way?”
“I … I … don’t know.” My voice is shattered. Barely recognizable.
It’s the truth, though. I don’t know. I don’t understand why his mere presence turns me into this quivering mess. It’s like every time I see him, I open up some kind of poorly covered chasm inside of me. Some tunnel to the past that I can’t disconnect myself from. He’s not my father. He never was. He’s just a scientist who got too close. Who broke his vows to the Objective.
“He’s … he’s…” I go on.
“He’s irrelevant. He’s a traitor.”
I nod.
“And you are not.”
“I … was.”
“Not anymore.”
I nod again.
“Dr. A fixed you. He gave you another chance. You should be grateful.”
I try to keep my teeth from clattering. “I … I … am.”
; “Good. Now use that. Use whatever you’re feeling right now to reconfirm your commitment to the Objective. You are not the person you used to be. You are not a traitor like him.”
The way he says “him” I’m not sure if he’s referring to Rio or to the boy from my memories. The one who helped me escape. But I know better than to ask. It doesn’t matter anyway.
I’m not like either of them.
“Okay?” he asks me.
I take in a shuddering breath. “Okay.”
He leans in and places a gentle kiss on my lips. “Good.” He wraps his fingers around mine and gives me a tug. “C’mon. Let’s get back. Evening meal starts in a few minutes.”
5
WATCHFUL
The Residential Sector is large and well landscaped. It’s where most of the compound employees spend their free time. In the center there is a complex of five tall apartment buildings connected to the rest of the sector with landscaped pathways. These are the housing units for the scientists, employees, and their families.
Kaelen and I live in the Owner’s Estate with Dr. A and his staff. It’s a beautiful house at the back of the sector that was modeled after a pre–Civil War Southern plantation.
I’ve heard some people complain about how out of place it looks among the ultramodern architecture of the rest of the compound, but Dr. A doesn’t seem to mind. Plus, he’s placed VersaScreens in every window, so when you peer out from within, it looks like the house is surrounded by green meadows and cherry blossoms.
When we reach the entrance to the sector, a MagBall game has commenced on the Rec Field. The few teenagers who live on the compound—children of Diotech employees—like to play it in the evenings, after the weather has cooled down.
They all stop and stare at us as we pass, letting the silver oblong ball linger in the air, untouched and unguarded. A few of them whisper to each other.
I have grown accustomed to this reaction. It’s become an everyday occurrence.
It doesn’t bother me.
“You and Kaelen are so special,” Dr. A likes to tell me. “You will elicit awe and envy everywhere you go. You were kept a secret for so many years. Give the Normates time to get used to the idea of your existence.”
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