He nods. “Okay. About?”
“The ad, the Unveiling, the name of the collection. It makes it seem like people can pay to be exactly like Kaelen and me, but they can’t. With the number of enhancements being offered they’ll never even come close. Isn’t that … lying?”
Dane laughs a little. “No, it’s marketing. You never give them exactly what they want. Otherwise you lose all your power. Ad firms have been doing it for years with strategic lighting and airbrushing and digital models. You show them what they can’t have, then you turn around and sell them the next best thing.”
I struggle to follow his logic. “And you’re sure that’s what people want? To be more like Kaelen and me?”
Dane places a warm hand on my cheek and offers me a mirthless smile. “The truth is, Sera, people want what Diotech tells them to want.”
8
THREATS
We take our usual seats in the formal dining room. Dr. A at the head of the long rectangular table, Kaelen and I seated to his left, and Dane and Raze on his right. Crest is never invited to dine with us. She says it doesn’t bother her, that she’s far too busy managing Dr. A’s schedule to sit down to a meal, but it bothers me. I’ve just never articulated it.
Luly, the kitchen maid, delivers our customized meal choices and Dr. A turns his attention to Kaelen and me. “Dane and I have some excellent news about the Unveiling.”
My whole body tenses and I remind myself to take deep breaths. Stay calm. If the nanosensors running through my veins right now detect any abnormal rise in my heartbeat, Dr. A will know. An alert will go off on a screen somewhere in the Medical Sector. He’ll get a report on his Slate later tonight and he’ll match the time stamp with the hour this conversation took place.
This is what I’m here for. This is my role in the Objective. To show the world how Diotech products can improve their lives. He can’t know that the very thought of fulfilling my duty makes my system go into hyperdrive.
I start to count by 89s, opting for a prime number to keep my mind engaged.
89, 178, 267, 356, 445 …
“What’s the news?” I force myself to ask, cringing at how strangled my voice sounds.
Dane grins wildly. “Take a look.”
He turns to the wall screen behind him and gives it the command to resume playback. Suddenly, Mosima Chan, the most famous Feed journalist in the country, is in the room with us, her hologram springing to life as she begins speaking in great earnest.
“This is Mosima Chan, bringing you this breaking-news stream. I can now officially announce that on May 8, 2117, AFC Streamwork will be feedcasting the first exclusive live interview with the offspring of Diotech’s revolutionary scientific breakthrough, dubbed the Genesis Project.”
I choke on the small piece of synthetic steak that I just popped into my mouth, causing Dr. A to shoot me a venomous look.
“Excuse me,” I say as I swallow water from my goblet.
“Eighteen-year-olds Sera and Kaelen, referred to as ‘ExGens’ in an official Diotech digital press release, will be right here in this studio in only two days. Up until this point, neither Sera nor Kaelen has been seen by anyone outside of the highly restricted Diotech headquarters located in the east Nevada desert. Diotech has been keeping a close wrap on the project, refusing to release even a single still capture of their faces.”
The comment bar on the side of the screen is going absolutely warped. I want to issue the command to slow it down so I can catch a glimpse of one of the viewer comments but I’m afraid of what it might say.
Dane deactivates the screen a moment later. “Mosima Chan is going to kick off our publicity tour!” he announces, the goofy grin still plastered to his face.
Suddenly I have trouble breathing. The thought of being in her studio, our faces feedcasted to the world, paralyzes me. I remember watching her live interview with Eean Glick after he returned from Neptune. The viewer counter was at over eight billion. I feel my pulse start to race.
534, 623, 712, 801, 890 …
“Isn’t that amazing?” Kaelen asks.
“Amazing,” I manage to echo. But the room has already started to spin. It’s becoming too real. Too fast. Mosima Chan. A twenty-eight-city publicity tour. Billions of eyes trained on us. Judging us. “Are you sure we’re ready for all that?”
I suck in a surprised breath when I realize I said that aloud. I had intended it to stay in my head. But now my uncertainty is in the open and I immediately regret it.
Dr. A’s hand slams down on the table, startling everyone, and sending his liqueur glass flying over the edge. It crashes a few feet away and shatters into pieces. That’s when I know for sure it’s real crystal. The synthetic kind never would have even cracked.
“Of course, you’re ready.” His icy blue eyes narrow in my direction. “Do you really think I would send you out into the world before you’re ready? Do you still doubt me so much?”
“No,” I’m quick to say while internally berating myself for my stupidity. “I don’t doubt you at all.”
Luly is back, having heard the commotion. She eyes the mess. “I’ll call a bot.” And then she’s gone again.
“We have pushed this back long enough,” Dr. A continues. “We have spent the last year preparing you for this. Giving you access to countless uploads. Teaching you the popular slang and euphemisms. Training you to behave more like normal human beings so you wouldn’t come off as creepy robots in the public eye.” He turns to Dane. “That’s what you said they needed. This was your idea.”
Dane has always been better at appeasing Dr. A than any of us have. Especially me. “They’ve come a long way,” he assures him gleefully, resting a gentle hand on Dr. A’s arm. “If it weren’t for those exquisite faces, I would believe they were just Normate teenagers off the street. I definitely think they’re ready.”
“I am very confident we can do this,” I rush to say, still trying to cover for my horrendous misstep. “I want to serve the Objective.”
Kaelen squeezes my hand. “We both do.”
I flinch when out of the corner of my eye I see the cleaning bot silently enter the room. Those things always unnerve me with their humanlike top half and wheeled bottom. This one is designed to look like a man. They’re tasked with various chores around the compound. All the things real people don’t want to do. Mostly janitorial work. Cleaning. Basic maintenance. And of course, there are the med bots, who help around the labs. The faces of the bots are so convincing, so flawless, you’d almost believe they were real. That is, until you look into their eyes. No matter how advanced Diotech’s technology is, they can never quite perfect the eyes. There’s always a void there. A soullessness that strikes you deep in your gut.
Looking a labor bot in the eye is a mistake you only make once.
I focus on my plate as the bot clears away the broken glass, sucking it up into its base, mopping the spilled liquid with an extension that protrudes from the bottom, and then giving the wood floors a shiny polish to finish the job.
Director Raze, who up until this point has been silently enjoying his synthetic pork chop, swallows and says, “You do realize, Dr. Alixter, that the added media attention will give Peder and his people more fodder. He’s not simply going to go away.”
I wince at the brazenness of his comment. Particularly so close on the heels of Dr. A’s last reaction to skepticism. But Dr. A simply waves his hand at this, as though it’s hardly a concern worth talking about. “Peder is a raving lunatic with no real claims. He’s crazy. No one takes him seriously.”
“If he manages to get enough support in the public eye or—”
Dr. A stands up, pushing his chair back and tossing his napkin down on the table. “That’ll be all for now, Director. Thank you.” He turns to Dane. “Ping Crest with the final tour schedule.” Then he stalks out of the room, leaving a plate of barely touched food behind.
Dane gets up a moment later and follows him, leaving the three of us to finish our meal
in awkward silence. I’ve never had much to say to Director Raze. The truth is, he scares me a little, with his tall build and domineering stance. The way he sometimes looks at me like I’m a piece of synthetic meat he’d like to devour. But I assume those same intimidating qualities also help to keep the compound safe. So maybe I’m supposed to be afraid of him.
It’s only after Luly has cleared the plates that I have the nerve to ask, “Director, do you really think Peder is a threat to us?”
He stands up, dabs his mouth with his napkin, and winks. “Don’t worry, princess. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”
“But you said—”
“Just let me do my job and you’ll be safe.” There’s an edge to his tone that makes me feel the opposite of safe.
Once he’s gone, Kaelen, seemingly unfazed by the previous confrontations, stands up and grabs my hand, pulling me out of my seat.
“Feeling better?” he asks, clearly referring to the meltdown I had in the gardens earlier.
I nod. “Much.”
“Good.” He cups my face with his hands and draws me to him. Our lips crush together and suddenly I can no longer remember what I was worried about two seconds ago.
“What do you want to do now?” I ask.
His lips burrow against my neck. “I have something in mind.”
I giggle. “What’s that?”
“Something you won’t be able to do in that dress.” Then he intertwines his fingers with mine and pulls me urgently toward the door.
9
SENSE
Kaelen gives me a head start. We both know I need it. I bow my head and run straight into the night. The wind tangles my hair, destroying Crest’s updo in a matter of seconds. But she won’t care. Evening meal is over. Dr. A has retired to his rooms. We are alone.
The compound is quiet, everyone tucked into their respective corners of the Residential Sector. This is the only time Kaelen and I can really stretch our legs. I head east, cutting across the center of the Agricultural Sector and into the barren field that lies beyond it. If I were to turn right, I would end up back at the cottage. But right now that’s the last place I want to be. Even the thought of it sitting out there, empty yet full of memories, reminds me of all the things I don’t want to think about. Like Rio and his vacuous eyes. Like the boy and his stupid dandelions.
Like me and my weaknesses.
So I continue straight, plunging deeper into untamed pasture, the wild shrubbery scratching my ankles. Leaving my wearisome thoughts farther and farther behind with every lightning-fast step I take.
I can hear Kaelen’s nimble footsteps close behind me. He’s gaining. I push harder. Faster. My muscles never tire. My lungs never burn. This is what being an ExGen is all about. The speed. The stamina. The unparalleled senses.
I sniff the air, breathing in the tangy desert. But there’s another scent that catches me off guard—a sickly, putrid odor. It causes me to slow, gradually at first, then slamming to a stop as I catch a stronger whiff. Kaelen pulls up next to me. I watch his reaction. Judging by the confusion on his face, he smells it, too.
“We should go back,” he says after a moment, and I swear I see comprehension flash in his eyes.
I take a step, inhaling deeply. “What is that? It’s almost like … like…” My body grows cold when the recognition hits. I remember that scent. It rose up from my own limbs as the fire consumed me. That was in another world. Another time. But the smell hasn’t changed.
“… burning flesh.” I finish the thought, all emotion drained from my voice.
Kaelen gives my arm a tug. “C’mon. Let’s go. We shouldn’t be here.”
But I brush him away and stride purposefully forward, letting my nose guide me until I find the source. I stop dead in my tracks and stare at the spectacle laid out before us, no more than a hundred yards in the distance.
A large transparent structure has been erected in the middle of the field. A freestanding glass cube with no ceiling. Inside, a deadly fire roars.
I watch in horror as a scientist in a white lab coat guides a blindfolded woman toward the entrance of the chamber. Another scientist standing nearby presses a button on his Slate and a door in the glass wall slides opens. The fire doesn’t try to escape. It’s being controlled. Limited to the boundaries of the small room.
The first scientist removes the blindfold from the woman. She stares blankly into the flames. Not a drop of fear registers on her face. The second scientist presses another button on his Slate and the woman advances toward the open chamber.
Without a flicker of hesitation or even a flinch of concern, she walks straight into the fire. It consumes her instantly, the blistering flames wrapping around her slender body and yielding her motionless and silent in a matter of seconds.
I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out. That’s when I realize Kaelen’s hand is clamped over my lips, blocking the sound.
“Sera,” he whispers urgently. “We have to go. Now.”
I try to speak, but he won’t allow it. In a blur, he lifts me with one arm, his other hand still firmly secured over my mouth. I don’t struggle. I let him carry me away. As we vanish into the darkness, I hear a voice behind us. It’s coming from the nightmare we just witnessed.
“Excellent work,” it commends the scientists. “I believe we are ready.”
There’s no doubt in my mind that the voice belongs to Dr. A.
10
GAPS
I wake up in a chair. My hands are shackled to the armrests, my brain is fuzzy. It feels like my head has been stuffed with cotton. I blink and look around. It takes me a moment to recognize where I am. The VersaScreens that surround me are powered down, leaving the four walls a muted black.
I’m inside the memory labs.
Sevan Sidler’s familiar voice comes through a small speaker by my ear. “Hi, Sera. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I mumble groggily.
I do what I always do when I wake up in this room: struggle to conjure the last thing I remember.
Crest did my hair. I went to evening meal. Dr. A got angry and smashed a crystal glass. Dane told us about our upcoming appearance on Mosima’s show. Kaelen and I went running. And then …
Then there is nothing.
Then I woke up here.
I know exactly what this means. One of my memories has been altered. Probably erased. It’s not an uncommon occurrence. It happens fairly often, actually. Often enough that it doesn’t warp me out like it used to. Over the past year, I’ve come to terms with the fact that memory modifications are in the best interest of everyone, and, above all else, in the best interest of the Objective. I trust Dr. A’s judgment. That’s why, with me, they no longer go through the trouble of coding artificial memories to replace the ones they remove. I’ve accepted the fact that there are some things I just don’t need to know.
But tonight, after everything else that’s happened, I feel curiosity trickling its way into my thoughts.
The time flashes across my Lenses: 01:42 a.m. When Kaelen and I left the house after evening meal it was after ten. What happened in those three hours? What did I see?
The restraints holding my wrists release and I stand up and flex my fingers. One of the VersaScreens splits open and I walk into the hallway where Kaelen is waiting, a beatific smile on his face.
“Ça va?” He asks me if I’m doing okay in French.
“Oui,” I respond. The fog in my brain has already started to lift. In a few minutes, I will be sharp and alert again.
Sevan pops his head through the doorway that leads to the control room. That’s where he sits at a computer all day as the cryptic code of Revisual+, the language of memories, streams across his screen.
“Have a good night, you two,” he says, his usual cheerfulness not at all affected by whatever memory he took, or the fact that it’s now the middle of the night and he was most likely woken from sleep to perform my alteration.
“You, too,�
� I reply, and follow Kaelen outside.
We walk back to the Residential Sector in silence. I want to ask so many questions. I want to ask what happened. What they stole. Did they alter his memories, too? Or was it just mine? But I know that I can’t. It goes against all the rules. All the protocols. And even if Kaelen does know the answers, he’s not allowed to tell me.
We are so close in so many ways—bonded by the very life that runs in our veins—but Diotech always comes first.
The Objective always comes first.
I fight to draw out even the smallest strand of what was removed from my mind. What I might have seen. How it might have made me feel. Hoping, beyond reason, that some remnant of the past few hours might still be lingering. Hiding somewhere in the back corners of my brain.
But Sevan is good at his job. There is nothing left.
I don’t even notice that Kaelen has stopped walking until I feel a rough tug on my arm and I’m suddenly spun around. He brings me crushing against his chest as he urgently captures my mouth with his. His kiss is hungry. Desperately redemptive. For what, I don’t know. But like always, I lose everything that once stood guard in my mind. My knees start to buckle.
Kaelen has a way of consuming me with his kisses. Rendering me useless. Stealing everything from me. Almost as effectively as a Memory Coder.
When he pulls away, I’m wobbly, leaning against him for balance.
“Can I come to your room tonight?” he whispers into the skin behind my ear.
All I can do is nod against his lingering lips.
We run. Hand in hand. Up the manicured pathway of the house. With nothing at our backs but desert wind and lost memories. This is us. This has always been us. An undeniable pull toward each other. An invisible force field that pulses in the spaces between us, holding us together, connecting us with the same heartbeat.
A thrill of nervous energy fuels my legs as we spring up the porch steps. A fierce longing to be close to him thrums through me as he pauses before the front door, wrapping his strong, chiseled arms around my waist and pulling me into him.
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