His scent is intoxicating.
His mouth is debilitating.
His touch makes me forget.
He looks at me, his eyes wild and unfocused. “You completely warp me.”
I flash him a coy smirk. “You have to say that. It’s in your DNA.”
“And what glitching good DNA it is.”
This makes me laugh. Kaelen opens the front door and starts up the stairs, keeping his hand firmly secured around mine. I stay close to him, hoping the anguish of the day will gradually fade with every step.
But as we reach the landing of the second floor, I begin to realize, with a profound disappointment, that it will take more than a flight of stairs to erase the demons inside of me. I could climb to the moon and I would still feel my fears following right behind me like a dark shadow.
An unwanted passenger who was never invited. And never leaves.
11
RELEASED
That night, I dream of Rio countless times. I watch his skull being sawed open over and over again. I’m trapped behind thick synthoglass, high above the sterile white surgical room. I stand idle and motionless as they carve out his brain, which has turned black and rotten, and replace it with a sleek and shimmering artificial substitute.
In the last dream, I finally fight back. I bang against the glass but no one even bothers to look up. They work tirelessly, replacing the top of his skull, sealing his skin around the incision with flesh-colored nanopatches.
I yell and cry and bang harder.
“They can’t hear you,” a voice says behind me. I whip around and he is there. The boy from my memories. The one I’ve tried so hard to forget. His dark eyes are cold and untrusting.
“Zen.” I murmur his name softly. So no one else can hear.
“They’ll never be able to hear you.”
I wake up screaming.
A body is there to calm me. Lips whispering soothing words into my ear. A hand brushing back my damp hair. The only time I sweat is when I’m trapped in a nightmare.
I blink against the darkness and the lingering images in my mind.
“Shhh, it was just a dream.” Crest sits on the edge of my bed, continuing to stroke my hair.
Her presence calms me. It always does.
It’s not part of her job—chasing away nightmares. But she knows I have trouble sleeping. And her room is, unfortunately for her, next to mine, so she can hear the screams.
My ragged breathing gradually begins to subside. I turn my head to see the empty space next to me. Kaelen left a while ago. Not long after we entered my room, he kissed me like he wanted more, but I told him I couldn’t give him more. Not tonight. I told him I was anxious about our departure this morning and needed to be alone. He tried to hide his disappointment but I read it on his slightly downturned lips, in the subtle wilt of his shoulders as he left.
“There you go, my sweet pearl,” Crest encourages. “It’s okay. Just a dream.”
I sink down under the covers as she opens the top drawer of my nightstand. She riffles around until she finds the injector she keeps there. “Just one dose,” she tells me as she clicks a vial of pale blue liquid into place. “To help you fall back asleep. You need your beauty rest.”
I smile at her joke. I would look the same no matter how much sleep I got. But Crest likes to say it’s why she comes in here. Why she cares so much about whether or not I’m sleeping. I secretly think she likes taking care of me. I think this semiregular nightly routine is one of the ways she combats her loneliness.
She places the tip of the injector against my arm. I feel a slight pinch of pressure as the Releaser enters my system. The drug usually works fast and I pray that tonight will be no exception.
Crest pulls the blanket up to my chin. “Have I told you about Jin’s eyelashes?”
I shake my head.
It’s a lie and we both know it. She’s told me about every part of his body so many times even I’ve lost count. But it makes her happy to talk about him so I let her. Tonight, apparently it’s his eyelashes that are monopolizing her thoughts. Two nights ago, it was his wrists.
“They are the most thermal shade of dark green,” she begins dreamily. Her gaze drifts to that place on the wall just above my bed. Always the same spot. As though his capture is playing on a constant loop on the wall screen behind me. “Don’t ever let him look at you from beneath them. If you do? Flux, it’s all over. I’ve broken promises because of those lashes. They can turn a good girl bad in three seconds flat.”
I giggle as my eyes start to close.
Crest bends down and kisses my forehead. “Don’t let those nightmares frighten you, pearl. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
The sleep is coming on fast. I hear the drawer of my nightstand opening and closing as Crest replaces the injector. She stands up and walks quietly toward the door.
“And if you ever realized how strong you really are,” she whispers to the darkness, “we’d all be in trouble.”
12
UNEARTHED
The Releaser wears off in a few hours, like it always does. My system is too strong for the injector’s maximum dose. When I wake the next morning, the sun hasn’t yet risen. The clock on my wall screen reads 5:07 a.m.
The night shield on my windows is active and I give the command for transparency so I can see outside. The real one. Not the simulated plantation backyard that Dr. A programmed as a default.
The dark façade lifts and I see the back of the Transportation Sector hangars, where they make prototypes for the next generation of hovers and repair all the carts that roam the compound. I admit it’s not the nicest of views. It’s no wonder Dr. A chose the digital veneer that he did. But the sight of it grounds me.
So many aspects of our lives are artificial. Holograms are projected onto our screens. Fictional stories are streamed onto the Feed. Our DigiLenses transform the world around us with virtual programs and apps. Every once in a while, it’s nice to get fleeting glimpses of the real world.
From here, I can barely see the edge of the vast field that separates the rest of the compound from what used to be the Restricted Sector and I’m instantly reminded of my run with Kaelen last night.
Something happened in that field, I know it.
Something they don’t want me to remember.
I climb out of bed and quietly dress, careful not to wake the rest of the house.
I hurry down the tree-lined path. My speed is somewhere between human and ExGen. Not quite a blur, but definitely a pace that would draw attention. Good thing no one is around to notice.
It isn’t until I’m halfway through the curved, polished buildings of the Aerospace Sector that I realize where I’m going. It’s almost as though I didn’t even have a choice in the matter. As though some invisible force was pulling me back here all along.
The small white cottage looks exactly the same as when I left it yesterday evening.
How can I feel so different when nothing has changed? When the grass is still overgrown? When the gate is still unlocked? When this sector that used to be restricted—that once held a foolish, disobedient girl—is still abandoned?
Soon the sun will rise. The compound will wake up. The hovercopters will arrive to take us from the compound. Tomorrow Kaelen and I will be introduced to the world for the first time. We will be on display, like merchandise. We will show the people what they want.
“As soon as they see you and everything that you can do,” Dr. A once said to me, “they’ll be lining up at the doors to pay for whatever it is you have. They’ll be begging to be more like you. That’s how you save a species.”
For the past few months, Dane has been extensively preparing us for our interviews and public appearances. We’ve received countless uploads on effective media strategies, body language, the art of conversation, and social etiquette. Not to mention a full pod’s worth of archived press interviews with important people.
I can now speak with eloquence
, walk with poise, and make witty banter for hours on end. But it doesn’t mean I don’t feel like a fraud when I do it. And it doesn’t mean I’m actually ready for the entire world to know my face.
My feet feel heavy and uncooperative as I walk the perimeter of the empty cottage. My eyes don’t want to follow my path around the house. They drift. They are drawn to one place.
To the empty patch of dirt where the bench used to be.
Where the boy and I used to leave each other messages.
In just one night, a new dandelion has managed to sprout up in place of the one I destroyed. It’s a strong weed. A rebellious fighter. Despite all of Diotech’s advances in horticulture—despite all of Dr. A’s attempts to squash it from existence—it still grows.
A memory instantly wells up inside me, too strong to hold back, too powerful to control. The anguished guilt that accompanies it nearly doubles me over. There’s nothing left to do but close my eyes and let the memory overtake me.
“Did I ever tell you about our bench?” Lyzender says, trying to squeeze my hand. The sickness in his veins reduces his efforts to a meager muscle spasm. “It was made of white marble. In your front yard.”
His body is racked by a cough that leaves a smear of blood on his lips. I pluck a tissue and dab at the crimson droplets.
“Every morning when you woke up, you were supposed to bury something under the bench. It was your signal to me that you remembered.”
“Remembered what?” I ask.
“Me.”
I press my lips together, stifling a shudder. “How did you find the strength to do it so many times?” I ask. “Why did you keep coming back when you knew I’d look at you like you were a stranger?”
He closes his eyes and then whispers, “You never looked at me like I was a stranger. That’s how I knew they could never win.”
My eyes snap open and I look toward the open gate. I should leave. I should walk away and never look back.
That is, after all, the real reason I returned here today, isn’t it? Because I was hoping the walls of my former prison—the remembrance of my former crimes—would motivate me to do the right thing. To be the right person.
But now that I’m here, every dark corner of my mind is lit with curiosity. Every part of my body is drawn to the spot on the desert floor that represents my treasonous acts. As though my old self is calling to me, inviting me back.
I fight it, but not hard enough. The want is too powerful. It overpowers the should. The defect buried deep within me is strong today. Stronger than I’ve ever felt it.
I have to know.
I can’t leave here not knowing.
My feet find their own way. My waning resolve pulls me to my knees. And before I can give my mind the opportunity to dissent, I am digging.
I am digging.
I am digging.
The dirt is hard and tough and cakes painfully under my nails as I claw and scrape at the ground. The earth is so compacted, I find it hard to believe that anyone has buried anything here recently.
So why are you digging? a voice somewhere inside me asks.
But I don’t have an answer.
Something simply compels me to dig.
Dr. A doesn’t believe in hunches. He says they are for unscientific people who would rather trust in nonsense than learn how the world works.
But I don’t know how else to explain the sensation that’s coursing through me. The certainty overtakes me like programming overtakes a drone.
There is something here. I know it.
Yet the hole is now more than a foot deep and I have come up with nothing. I glance at the sun rising in the sky. They will come looking for me soon.
What will Dr. A think if he finds me here, literally digging up a past that I’m supposed to forget?
But I can’t stop now.
Not when this conviction is pulsing through me like sweet fire. Not when I’ve never felt so alive.
My fingertips are bleeding but I keep going. Any wounds I inflict on myself will be healed by the time I return to the Owner’s Estate. I feel like one of the wild dogs I sometimes see roaming outside the compound walls, ripping at the dirt in hopes of finding food.
Then my hand hits something. Something solid.
I dig faster until I’ve completely excavated the buried object. It’s a small wooden box. I hastily brush the remaining dirt away and gasp when I see what’s carved into the top.
Like a memory etched in wood.
The symbol.
Our symbol.
“It means eternity. It means forever.”
I remember how I always liked it. The endless loop of the eternal knot. The way it almost looks like two inverted hearts, crisscrossing at their cores.
My fingers are thick with numbness as I feel for a latch and pop open the box.
A single object is housed inside. I recognize it immediately. The smooth sides, the clean, precise edges of the metal, the way it glows green when I swipe my fingertip across it, activating whatever is inside.
It’s a cube drive. Exactly like the one Lyzender stored my stolen memories on when we ran away.
Exactly like the one Kaelen had when he came to bring me back.
But how did it get here? Buried more than a foot below the earth?
Drives aren’t normally used on the compound. Not when the Diotech network allows us to wirelessly transfer data between devices and server pods.
I remember the last time I saw one like this. It was in the year 2032. I had taken it from Kaelen. I had used it to show my foster brother, Cody, all my memories. So that he could see for himself what my past was like.
This was when I still believed Diotech was the enemy. When I was still firmly under Lyzender’s spell.
And then what?
What happened to that drive after Cody accessed my memories? I don’t remember seeing it again. Kaelen and I left. Did we bring the drive with us? I certainly didn’t. And I don’t recall Kaelen having it.
It must have been left behind in Cody’s house. In the guest room where Lyzender lay sick and dying. Where Kaelen administered the Repressor that disabled Lyzender’s transession gene, cured his illness, and trapped him in time forever.
That was over eighty years ago.
Which means …
A ping flashes across my vision, disrupting my thoughts. It’s a message from Kaelen, asking where I am.
I return the now-empty wooden box to the hole and shove the pile of dirt on top of it. I do my best to smooth out the small mound that I’ve formed, even attempting to resurrect the fragile dandelion that was tossed aside during my excavation. It looks lopsided and sad when I’m finished.
I push myself to my feet and slip the drive into my pocket.
I take off at a run, leaping effortlessly over the concrete wall that used to hold me in. That used to protect me from my own rebellious spirit.
The entire time I run, I think about the small cube banging gently against my hip. A hard drive that once held all of my memories.
Does it still? Or is there something new stored inside its sturdy metal walls?
Something that someone wanted me to find?
That has been buried for nearly a century.
13
LEAVES
I sprint across the empty field and cut through the Agricultural Sector. Normally I try to steer clear of the creepy cottonwood tree in the corner for fear that its gnarled, twisted limbs will reach out and grab me. But today, I don’t have time to make my usual wide arc around it. I still duck my head and avert my eyes as I pass it, but just as I’m about to clear its last outstretched branch, I hear the far-off sound of a little girl screaming.
I slow and turn around, the piercing noise coming to a halt as soon as I do. That’s when I see the man standing beneath the tree, his red-handled shears dangling from his limp hand, as if he had been in the process of trimming the tree but then simply stopped mid-snip. My rib cage tightens around my heart, threatening to squash i
t like a bug.
Rio.
My eyes dart back in the direction I was running. I could keep going. Pretend I didn’t see him. But he’s already staring at me with those stony eyes. Like he’s expecting me to say something. I consider pinging Kaelen and asking him to come help me. He’s always so good with Rio. So composed. Unlike me, who turns into a useless mess in his presence. I know Kaelen would only be disappointed if I summoned him, though. He thinks I should be able to handle this. And he’s right. I should. But now my hands are shaking and my mouth has gone bone dry and Rio is still just standing there, mouth slack, arms at his sides.
I steel myself and take a few steps toward him and the unnerving tree, holding my breath while I walk, fidgeting with my fingers. I do exactly what Kaelen would do. I force a smile that I hope looks genuine and I say, “Good morning, Rio.”
But something is wrong. He doesn’t answer. He always answers Kaelen. He always returns the salutation and mutters something about how many hedges there are around the compound. Not today, though. In fact, he doesn’t even move. His eyes are still fixed forward. Not on me anymore, but on something in the distance behind me. I steal a glance over my shoulder but see nothing of interest. When I turn my attention back to him, his trimming sheers drop from his hand, clattering to the ground.
“Rio?” I can hear the quiver in my voice.
When he still doesn’t respond, I wave my hand in front of his face.
Nothing. Not even a flinch.
Is he alive?
If it weren’t for the fact that he’s standing up, I would safely assume he’s not. He looks like a bot who simply ran out of power halfway between locations, waiting for someone to come by and juice him up.
I step in front of him and suck in my breath as I brave a glimpse directly into his eyes. He doesn’t register my existence with so much as a blink. I can feel my stomach tumbling as I search for something. Anything. A flicker of recognition. A gleam of the man who used to be there. Who risked everything to help me escape with Lyzender. Who came to find me in the past. Who betrayed Dr. A at the price of his mind. His faculties. His life.
Unchanged Page 5
