Unchanged

by Jessica Brody

  Mosima lets out a low whistle. “Thirty-seven days. That is mighty impressive. Our advance team took some spectacular captures of that womb, which we’re going to play for you now. Take a look.”

  For a moment, I’m actually kind of excited. Are they really going to show Dr. Rio’s lab? The one that’s been locked up for more than a year? But as the image in my Lenses shifts, I realize they’re actually showing the womb where Kaelen was grown. Not me. It’s housed in a newer, more modern lab in Building 1 that was dedicated to the Genesis Project after Dr. Rio betrayed the Objective.

  The cams zoom in on the large spherical capsule positioned atop a steel pedestal in the center of the room. They swirl gracefully around the breathtaking structure to give the audience a 360-degree view of the various tubes and mechanisms that make it work.

  I have vague memories of the womb I was created in—mostly from the first few weeks of my life, when they still weren’t certain I would survive, and I needed to be monitored twenty-four hours a day in Rio’s lab. I can say with certainty that the contraption I’m watching on my Lenses now is definitely an upgraded version from mine, which nearly makes me laugh. Kaelen even got a nicer womb than me.

  Of course, the chamber itself is empty now. At the time he was grown inside, it was filled with an orange gelatinous substance that served as his embryonic fluid.

  I admit, it does remind me of the giant globe I’m currently standing in.

  “Truly amazing,” Mosima chimes in, bringing the viewers back to the studio. “Now, that womb we just looked at, is it used only for ExGens or could it, perhaps, be used to grow a normal teenage or adult human being?”

  “Although we’ve only used this particular advanced womb to bring our beautiful ExGens into the world,” Dr. A replies, “theoretically it could gestate any fully grown human being in thirty-seven days. All you’d need is a piece of DNA and our systems would do the rest.”

  “Fascinating,” says Mosima. “So you previously mentioned that Kaelen and Sera were created from similar genetic blueprints. Does that make them akin to”—she circles her hand as she thinks—“brother and sister?”

  Dr. A lets out a hearty chuckle. “Hardly! Their DNA is as unrelated as yours and mine. They are in no way familial. All humans, in fact, share 99.9 percent of the same DNA. What Sera and Kaelen have in common is their perfected genetic sequence and robust enhancements. In essence, they are made from the same mold, but contain very different materials. At their core, however, they are quite connected. Which is probably why they fell in love so quickly.”

  Mosima reacts as though this is the first time she’s heard this piece of the story. Even though I know it’s not. “In love, you say?”

  Dr. A’s expression turns whimsical. I didn’t know he was even capable of whimsy. “Yes. Very much so. In fact, we created Kaelen and Sera to be partners. In life and in love. They are what I like to refer to as ‘Print Mates.’”

  “Like soul mates?”

  “Exactly. A scientific soul mate, if you will. Literally made for each other.”

  Mosima puts a hand to her heart. “That’s lovely. I can tell you are a romantic at heart, Dr. Alixter.”

  He lets out a sigh. “Guilty.”

  “So.” Mosima turns serious again. “Is it safe to say that you are the brains behind this project?”

  Dr. A pauses to reflect.

  I feel myself leaning forward in anticipation of his answer. Will he mention Rio? The man he destroyed? Who is now absentmindedly snipping hedges on the compound, completely unaware of his own lost brilliance?

  Will he give Rio any of the recognition he deserves?

  “It’s impossible for me to take all the credit,” Dr. A says, rubbing his chin. “Especially when so many talented scientists at Diotech headquarters contributed to the success of this project. But if we’re speaking exclusively about who did the actual scientific ‘grunt work,’ so to speak, of bringing these beautiful souls into the world, then yes, I suppose that would be me.”

  Something hot starts to bubble and burst in my chest.

  Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop.

  I can feel Kaelen eyeing me from the adjacent sphere but I don’t turn. This time, it’s me who stares straight ahead. It’s not fascination that holds my gaze. It’s not admiration. It’s not worship.

  It’s an emotion I only recognize once it’s fully coursing through me, boiling my blood and souring my tongue.

  Disgust.

  Suddenly I feel as though I can’t breathe. The curved walls of this egg are closing in on me. I glide my hands against the surface, searching for a lever, a button, a latch. Anything!

  I can’t do this.

  I can’t do this.

  I push against the glass, checking the integrity of the construction. But I already know it’s synthoglass and that means I’ll never be able to break through.

  And even if you could, a voice in my head demands, where would you go?

  They’d find you.

  I brush a fingertip across the genetic implant—the tracking device—on the inside of my left wrist. The voice is right. The satellites would locate me in seconds.

  But I’m not trying to run away. I’m not trying to escape again.

  I’m trying to get home. Back to the compound where I belong. Back within its safe walls and the anonymity of its isolation.

  Are you okay?

  A ping flashes across my right Lens. It’s from Kaelen.

  I glance over at his sphere to see he’s still staring at me, concern etched into his face. He must be able to sense my panic. I want to reach out to him, to fall into him, let him wrap me up in those strong arms. He would make everything better. If he were next to me now. If I could touch him.

  I’m about to send a response when the interview beneath us suddenly comes back into focus.

  Mosima is speaking. “Well, you must have seen the droves and droves of protesters outside of the studio this morning when you flew in?”

  Dr. A sighs. “I did, indeed.”

  “I’ve never seen such a strong opposition in all my life. Is it safe to say you have a few enemies out there?”

  Dr. A smiles wryly. “Yes. It saddens me greatly. But what important figure in history who sought to do things differently wasn’t met with resistance? It took Christopher Columbus seven years to find a country willing to financially back his new route to India. Everyone thought he was crazy. Martin Luther King Jr. was killed trying to change the way we think. Would I love for everyone to be on my side? Certainly. Will I stop moving forward just because they aren’t? Of course not.”

  “Well put, Doctor,” Mosima approves. “I think the question on everyone’s mind, however, is … why? Why create these two superhuman ExGens? Are you saying that we normal humans aren’t enough?”

  “Not at all,” Dr. A is quick to reply. “I’m simply of the opinion that if we can become better, why don’t we?”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  Dr. A crosses his legs and leans back in his chair. He’s ready for this question. It’s the one he’s been preparing for from the very beginning.

  “Look around you, Ms. Chan,” he says in a relaxed but formal tone. “The world is at war. We, as human beings, are at war. With disease, with climate changes, with natural disasters. Last year the POK virus wiped out two million people across the globe. Two months ago, Hurricane 981 wreaked havoc on the east coast. Mother Nature is trying to destroy us. We have to evolve. And fast. We don’t have time for natural evolution to take its course and make us stronger and more resilient. We won’t last that long! The next step in human evolution is through science. We have to fight back. And the only way to do that is to make ourselves stronger and more resilient. To become more like Sera and Kaelen, who you will soon meet and marvel at for yourselves. I created them to show humanity what our true potential is. To show us that we don’t have to lose these battles. We can adapt. We can fight back. And more important, we can win.”

  Dr. A has managed
to affect every single person in this studio and, I’d venture to guess, in the world as well. Mosima sits back in her chair, staring openmouthed at him. Activity in the control booth has died down. The technicians appear to have been lulled into a semitrance. Even Crest and Dane—who have heard this before, who work to achieve this every day—are visibly moved by Dr. A’s conviction.

  And me.

  I feel every muscle in my body unclenching. The bitterness in my mouth dissolving. The heat in my blood gradually simmering and cooling.

  Dr. A’s passionate words have reminded me of why I’m here. Why we’re all here.

  The Objective.

  I don’t think he’s ever described it so eloquently before. So persuasively.

  This is what it all comes down to. Saving the human race from extinction. If it takes a few small lies to get us there, who am I to complain?

  Who am I to judge Dr. A for a little necessary manipulation? If it saves us in the end, it will be worth it.

  This glass ball isn’t a prison. It’s a display case.

  And we are the key to everything.

  The Objective is the only answer.

  Anyone who opposes it, who stands in its way—Dr. Rio, Lyzender, Pastor Peder, all those protesters outside—should not be trusted.

  So when I hear Mosima say, “Well, after that inspiring speech, I think it’s time to bring out our special guests,” I am no longer outraged.

  I am determined to be the powerful face of the next generation that Dr. A created me to be.

  When I feel the plank beneath my feet begin to rumble as the sphere prepares to lower—to deliver me to the world—I am no longer hesitant.

  I am ready.

  I am fearless.

  23

  REBIRTH

  The studio goes dark again as we start our descent from the sky. The fanfare begins the moment we clear the rafters. Multicolored lights dance, artificial smoke wafts into the air, music blares. It is a spectacle like I’ve never seen on Mosima’s show before.

  And Kaelen and I are smack in the middle of it.

  I hold still, trying to maintain my composure. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Kaelen for cues. He looks stoic in his open-legged stance, arms to the sides. I emulate his posture, reminding myself that this is second nature. Don’t think, just react instinctively. Everything I’ve ever needed to survive the next thirty minutes has already been uploaded into my brain, wired into my skin, programmed into my blood.

  When the spheres are only a few inches from the ground, the doors unseal and we step onto the stage. Kaelen’s hand finds mine almost instantly. Mosima rises to make grand sweeping gestures toward us. “Look at them!” she’s shouting over the thrumming beats. “Just look at them!”

  As instructed, we take our seats on a love seat as the music dies down and the lights return to a simple, daylight white.

  “Closer together,” Seres’s voice booms in my ear, causing me to jump.

  Kaelen must have gotten the same order because we simultaneously move toward each other until I’m practically in his lap. He drapes one arm around my shoulder and I place my hand on his leg.

  I check my Lenses to see what we look like to the audience but apparently they’ve deactivated that view. Maybe it’s too unsettling to see your own capture playing back while you’re sitting here.

  But whatever we’re doing must be working because Mosima looks exuberant.

  “Aren’t they divine, everyone?” She’s speaking into one of the countless DigiCams that are buzzing around our heads like a swarm of bees. I have to fight not to swat them away.

  She turns to Dr. A, who is seated to her left. “You weren’t exaggerating, Dr. Alixter. These two are something special.”

  Dr. A beams. “Aren’t they?”

  “Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable.” She focuses back on us. “So tell me. Is this terribly overwhelming for you two? I’m told that you’d never left the Diotech headquarters before yesterday.”

  Dane’s words race through my mind. A warning that was repeated over and over in the days leading up to this moment.

  “Whatever you do, don’t mention your failed escape.”

  “It’s certainly different,” Kaelen says.

  “What’s been the craziest part of your journey into the outside world so far?”

  “The hyperloop,” I say, my voice cool with just a tinge of playfulness. “That was pretty warped.”

  I steal a glance at the control booth and catch sight of Dane nodding. I knew he’d appreciate my use of modern slang. And apparently Mosima does as well. She seems positively tickled by my response as she says, “I agree. I’ve never liked traveling that way. I just gobble down a Relaxer and blitz out. But you probably don’t even get motion sick, do you?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Kaelen says.

  “We don’t get sick,” I add confidently.

  My tone, my eyes, my posture. It’s exactly as we rehearsed countless times with Dane and I’m actually surprised by how easy the poise comes to me now. Even if it feels like I’m wearing clothing that’s three sizes too small.

  “That’s right,” Mosima chimes. “That’s what my notes tell me. Fascinating. Simply fascinating. So you’ve never experienced even so much as a common cold?”

  “No,” replies Kaelen.

  “Well, then that means you’ve never experienced the bliss of a nighttime cold Releaser!” She cackles at her own joke, as does Dr. A.

  “Sera and Kaelen have been created with immunity to all known diseases,” Dr. A puts in. “A luxury we hope to be able to offer the general public very shortly.”

  “Won’t that be nice? And I’m told a simple cut on your finger heals in less than ten minutes, is that correct?”

  “That’s correct,” Kaelen says.

  Mosima looks into the cam hovering in front of her. “Ten minutes. Can you imagine? Not very fun for you cutters out there, is it?” She seems to find great humor in this and her high-pitched snort of a laugh grates on my eardrums.

  “So,” she goes on, her face serious again, “immunity to disease, obviously extremely good looks—which we can see. I’m also told that you have superhuman strength and speed.”

  “That’s right,” Dr. A answers for us. “Do you want to play the capture we took during their training session last week?”

  Surprised, I blink and turn to Kaelen. I didn’t know they had captured our training session last week. Did he?

  Mosima nods like it’s the best idea she’s heard all year. “Yes. Let’s do that. Larn, can you patch that in?”

  My Lenses flicker and a view of our most recent challenge course comes into focus. I watch as Kaelen and I, dressed in red training suits, take our positions at the starting line and he counts us off in Russian.

  “Odin, dva, tri.”

  It’s always Russian in the training dome. I’ve never asked him why, but I think the feel of it on his tongue puts him in a running mood for some reason.

  I watch us both sprint into the course, tackling each element with speed and precision. The footage contains a digital overlay of the virtual obstacles so the audience can see them the way Kaelen and I saw them through our Lenses during the challenge.

  In a span of three minutes, we outrun a high-speed train, leap five-hundred-foot chasms between the roofs of towering skyscrapers, swerve around MagCars on the expressway, and then at the end of the course, we have to lift a small hovercopter from the ground to rescue a dying child pinned underneath. I watch myself wince against the reverse pull of the electromagnets that were used to simulate the weight of the vehicle. My knees wobble and shake as I lift the virtual object from the ground, crouch under it, and, with the strength of my legs and back, hold it up so the child can be rescued.

  I remember this specific course vividly. After all, it was only last week. But it’s strange to be watching it from the outside. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen myself in action before. I really am fast.

  Of course, no
t as fast as Kaelen. He beats me to the finish line by twenty-two seconds. His superior DNA has always given him an advantage in the training dome.

  “Impressive,” Mosima commends, and then with a laugh she adds, “I wish I looked that good in a bodysuit.”

  There’s a pause that I assume is meant to allow her joke to resonate with the viewers. Then she turns to us. “And was that Russian I heard you speaking in that capture? What other languages do you speak?”

  “All of them,” Kaelen responds.

  “All of them?”

  “We speak every language.”

  Mosima peers back at the floating cam in front of her. Her eyes open so wide I’m afraid they might pop out of their sockets. “Stupendous!” she trills. “What a talent to have! And at such a young age! You’re both only eighteen, is that right?”

  We nod.

  “Kaelen, you were created at the age of seventeen, but Sera, you were sixteen when you were born, so you’ve been around a bit longer.”

  “Yes, I’m definitely older and wiser,” I say with a smirk.

  Kaelen tickles my waist, which causes Mosima to giggle even harder than me.

  “Isn’t he breathtaking, ladies?”

  Kaelen grins, revealing two rows of perfect teeth.

  “Simply ah-dorable.” She regains her composure. “So, how does it feel to have all those skills?”

  “I can’t really say,” I reply. “We don’t know any different.”

  “Touché!” Mosima replies with another chuckle. I can tell by her reactions that Kaelen and I are doing precisely what we’re supposed to do. Precisely what we’ve been created to do. We’re charming her. We’re charming everyone.

  But then why do I feel so horribly out of place up here?

  If this is what I was made for, shouldn’t I be enjoying it? The way Kaelen genuinely seems to be?

  “Dr. Alixter,” Mosima coos, “wherever do they get their dazzling personalities? Are those engineered in a lab as well?”

  Dr. A gives her a coy smile. “Now, now, Mosima, we can’t reveal all our secrets, can we?”