“Does your predicament bother you in the slightest?” she asks us. “Having been born on a research compound with no chance of ever having a normal life?”
I hear the question but my mind is still trapped in the previous one.
Where do we get our personalities?
Kaelen and I are so different. He’s ambitious and charismatic and optimistic. And, as it turns out, might possibly have a disturbing violent streak. While I’m … I don’t even know what I am anymore. I’ve been too many different people to keep track. The dutiful prisoner. The escaped convict. The amnesiac supermodel. The truth-seeking skeptic. The loyal lover. The heroic savior.
And now, the defective traitor trying to redeem herself.
Deep within all of those personas, is there something that might tell me who I really am?
Is there a common denominator I can cling to?
“No,” Kaelen answers Mosima’s question, drawing me back to the interview. “We don’t mind what we are. We are fortunate to have been given such gifts. Our lives are enriching and fulfilling. We have everything we could ever want.”
“Including love,” Mosima adds with a wink to the viewers. “Dr. A was just telling me before you came on that you two were genetically engineered to be perfect matches for each other.”
“That’s right,” Kaelen answers, tightening his arm around my shoulder. “I’m head-over-heels in love with her.”
Mosima practically swoons right out of her chair.
“And you feel the same way?” she asks me. “At least I hope you do. Otherwise, we’re in for a very awkward interview.”
I laugh, knowing it’s the appropriate thing to do. “Yes. He is the perfect person for me.”
Mosima sighs into the cam. “Doesn’t that just melt you? Let’s take some questions from the viewers. Larn, do you have a few good ones lined up for us?” Mosima pauses to watch something on her Lenses. “User Jennz122 from Portland, Maine, has posted a question on the comment bar. She asks, ‘If it doesn’t work out between you two, Kaelen, would you ever consider going on a reality show to find a wife?’”
Kaelen and Dr. A laugh in unison. I don’t find anything particularly humorous about the question. “Well,” Kaelen says jovially, “fortunately I won’t have to worry about that. Sera and I are bonded for life.”
“Yes, they are! Thanks for your question, Jennz122. Who’s next?” Another pause. “Oh, this is a good one. We have a question from user SZ1609.”
The breath traps in my lungs and for a second the world loses color. Loses shape.
It’s a coincidence. It has to be.
There are only so many combinations of numbers and letters out there.
I peer at Dr. A and Kaelen to gauge their reaction. Neither one of them seems to have caught the significance.
Not that I would expect them to.
S + Z = 1609 was our secret code. Lyzender’s and mine. Even if Dr. Alixter saw it on a memory scan, I doubt he would recognize it here. It’s too out of context.
But not for me. Despite my efforts, I can never seem to shove the dark-haired boy out of context. He’s always right there, lingering behind my subconscious, like shoes peeking out from under a curtain.
“This question is for Sera,” Mosima goes on. “Our viewer wants to know, ‘If you’ve never left Diotech headquarters, how can you know for certain that Kaelen is the perfect person for you? What if there’s someone else out there who could possibly be a better match?’”
My blood turns to ice.
It’s him. It has to be him.
But how? How is that possible? He’s supposed to be trapped in the past. He’s not supposed to be here.
I know Seres told me not to look directly into the cams, but I can’t help myself. My head slowly turns—as though acting entirely on its own—and I stare straight into the object hovering in front of my face.
A shiver passes through me. It’s almost as though I can feel him staring back. As though his liquid-chocolate eyes are reflected in the lens of this tiny cam.
“The viewer asks a very good question,” Mosima goes on, oblivious to my reaction. “How can you possibly be sure you are right for each other when your exposure to the rest of the world has been so limited?”
There’s no way I can answer. I can’t even move my lips, let alone form coherent sounds.
Thankfully, Dr. A swoops in to rescue me, stealing the audience away with his unrivaled composure and articulate speech. “Let me ask you this, Ms. Chan,” he begins. “How many times have you been in love?”
She looks taken aback and her face colors slightly. “Well, that’s a rather personal question, Dr. Alixter.”
He tilts his head, leaning forward in his chair. “Fine. I’ll put it another way. How many times has the average person been in love?”
She considers. “Two, maybe three times.”
“And how many times has the average person had their heart broken?”
“Countless, unfortunately. Or maybe that’s just me.” She turns toward her viewers and cackles.
“What if you could love without the risk of ever getting hurt?” Dr. A goes on. “What if you could love with a one hundred percent certainty of being loved in return? With no jealousy. No insecurity. No doubt. Sera and Kaelen’s love was perfected by science. They will never hurt each other. They are incapable of doing it. Just as you are incapable of flying.” He leans back in his seat. “I don’t know about all of you at home, but I’d take that over meeting someone randomly on the SkyServer any day.”
Mosima wobbles her head from side to side. “You do make an excellent point, Dr. Alixter. I can tell from the influx of comments we’re getting right now, it seems there are many viewers who agree with you. And some who don’t. But let’s move on, shall we?” She focuses back on us. “So, you lucky lovebirds. You are physically flawless, built like superheroes, and have brains that rival today’s computers … and you’ve found your soul mate by the age of eighteen!”
“Print Mate,” Dr. A corrects her.
“Of course. Print Mate. Gotta get my Diotech lingo down.” She guffaws. “You are clearly the envy of everyone on this planet right now. Can we get a little kiss from you two?”
The request startles me but I don’t have time to process it. Kaelen is already turning his mouth to meet mine. His eyes are already closing. Suddenly all I can think about is Lyzender. Could he really be out there? Watching us on the Feed right now?
“What are you waiting for?” Seres barks in my ear. “Kiss him already!”
He’s right.
What am I waiting for?
Even if Lyzender is out there—which I’m still convinced is impossible—he shouldn’t matter to me. He doesn’t matter to me.
All that matters is here in front of me. Leaning in to kiss me right now.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I can feel his lips before they touch me. Like they have their own energy. Their own atmosphere. When our mouths meet, I’m suddenly transported to another world. Where Kaelen and I are alone and there aren’t billions of people watching this intimate moment between us.
Where SZ1609 is just an unfortunate coincidence of letters and numbers.
Everything in our past is erased. Our flaws are unremembered.
But the sound of Mosima’s “awww” breaks through my mental barrier and I feel Kaelen smiling against me. His hand grazes the side of my face before he pulls away.
“Our comment bar is exploding right now!” Mosima tells us. “That was so special. I’m pretty sure you two just warmed every heart in America. Mine included. Can we play that back, Larn?”
My Lenses flash and I can now see what the world has just seen. Kaelen and I coming together the way we’ve been engineered to do.
They’ve slowed the capture way down. It takes forever for his lips to reach me. But when they do, I feel the kiss all over again. I feel it in my toes. In my stomach. In my carefully styled strands of hair.
I’ve never actual
ly seen myself kissing Kaelen before. Now it’s easy to see the effect it has on me. The way my eyes willingly sink closed, as though they don’t care whether or not they ever open again. The way my mouth reaches for his, forever hungry and forever satiated at the same time.
All of this plays out in front of me like a silent song. A perfect symphony.
“It’s easy to see from this playback that Dr. A is right,” Mosima observes. “You two are positively meant for each other.”
“Yes,” I say softly, knowing the whole world is listening. “Yes, we are.”
24
INVITATION
The pop of the champagne echoes through the entire Hospitality Suite as Dane fights to catch the overflowing liquid in tall, narrow glasses.
Champagne flutes. I access the correct terminology.
He offers a half-full glass to me and I take a tentative sip. The fizzy drink tickles my tongue and throat as it goes down. But overall, I enjoy the taste. Even Kaelen takes a few sips. I never see him drink alcohol.
Dane raises his glass in our direction. “You two were spectacular today. The audience loved you. AFC reported it was one of their most-watched segments of all time.”
I immediately notice the discrepancy in his statement. Most-watched segment. Not highest-rated or most-positive viewer reaction. I have yet to be able to view the playback on my Slate, but I have a feeling if I’m ever brave enough to watch it, I’ll find more than a fair share of negative comments in the side bar. Particularly if the group of protesters who waited for us outside the studio is any indication of how much the audience “loved” us.
The mass of bodies seemed to have quadrupled in size since we arrived. Thankfully, we didn’t actually have to maneuver through them. We took off from the hovercopter landing pad on the roof of the building and were able to fly over them. But I did notice the pilot subtly dodging a few unidentified projectiles that were launched in our direction.
Kaelen told me not to look but I couldn’t help it. I stared down at them from the window of the hovercopter, feeling the deep-seated hatred they cast up at me from so far below.
How can you feel such strong emotion for someone you’ve never met?
“They don’t hate you,” Crest reassured me once we arrived back at the hotel. “They hate what you represent. What Diotech represents. It’s just like Dr. Alixter said during the interview: you can’t change the world without making enemies.”
As I gazed down at their irate faces and the loathsome messages that flashed on their handheld screens, I willed myself to be stronger. I prayed for the resilience and thick skin that Dr. A promised the world I have.
That they could soon have, too.
But the sights below me and the emotions they stirred up hit too close to home.
I was suddenly back in 1609, strapped to a wooden stake as the ruthless flames of misunderstanding and fear clawed at my legs, burned through my clothes, and scorched my skin black.
They hated me then. They hate me now.
This was supposed to be the place where I belonged. This was supposed to be the time period where I would finally be accepted for who I am. Where I didn’t have to hide. Now, all I want is to bury my head under the blankets and do just that.
Hide.
“To the Objective!” Crest chimes in, and everyone raises their glasses, clinking them softly against one another. I follow suit. Kaelen catches my eye as he holds his flute up to meet mine.
“You were wonderful today.” The lilting Italian runs off his tongue, a melodic song in my ears.
I tap my glass against his and take a sip. “You have to say that,” I tease, keeping with his chosen language. “It’s in your DNA.”
He smirks and I lean in to kiss him. The champagne tastes better on his lips than it does from my flute. When I pull back, Kaelen is grinning at me. I take another drink, draining the glass.
I like the way the bubbles warm me. Loosen me. They have a rare ability to heighten some senses while dulling others. I notice the more I drink, the easier it is to forget things I don’t want to remember. Block questions I don’t want to answer. Like:
Who is SZ1609?
I suddenly realize why so many people drink alcohol. It’s a self-administered memory modification. It numbs the parts of yourself you don’t like. The parts you wish were different. For a brief moment, it turns you into the person you want to be. And the person everyone else already thinks you are.
But I have a feeling it won’t last.
I have a feeling, with my ExGen blood, I will be cheated out of several hours of forgetful bliss.
Kaelen grabs me by the hand and starts to pull me toward the hallway. “C’mon,” he whispers.
My feet feel sluggish and heavy as I follow him. “Where are we going?” I try to replicate his whisper but I just end up giggling instead.
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. As soon as we arrive at the door to his suite, I know. “Will you come inside?” he asks, bending forward to brush his lips against the curve of my neck, sending tiny shivers down my arms.
“Are you asking me because you have to? Because it’s coded into your—?”
Kaelen stops my question by pressing his finger to my lips. “I’m asking you because I want to.”
Without turning around, he swipes the panel on the wall. The door unseals and he backs inside, keeping his burning gaze on me the whole time. His hand tugs on mine. His eyes beg for me to follow him.
His smile makes it impossible to say no.
25
UNWELCOME
Kaelen’s suite looks identical to mine, except reversed. The bedroom is where my living room is, the bathroom door is on the opposite wall. But everything is different once we’re both inside it. And I have a feeling everything will forever be different once we leave it.
Kaelen takes both my hands in his and kisses me gently on the nose. Then on the cheek. Then on the mouth. My lips part and I inhale him. Inhale the promise of being with him. Of joining back together with him. Like the way we started. Two people created from the same beginning.
His hands slide down and find the hem of my dress. I lift my arms over my head to help him remove it, but he surprises me by ripping apart the fabric instead. I giggle as the tattered dress slips to my feet. “Crest will not be happy with you.”
“I don’t care about Crest right now.”
“I thought you liked that dress,” I tease with a mischievous smile. The champagne is making me bold. Improving my ability to make jokes about things I only understand because of a series of uploads.
“I like it better now.” He casts his eyes down the length of my body. He does little to hide his fascination with my bare skin and the sparse undergarments Crest made me wear.
“Fair enough.” I reach up and easily resign his shirt to the same fate as my dress. The frayed pieces fall from his lean, muscular torso, revealing beautifully sculpted shoulders, defined chest muscles, and skin softer than anything I’ve ever felt. I run an exploratory palm across his collarbone.
And then he’s devouring me. His lips kneading against my neck. My shoulder. His tongue tracing lines in the grooves between bone and muscle. We stumble toward the bed, the downy fabric of his comforter absorbing our fall. Kaelen is on top of me, his weight bearing down on me. Two bodies creating fire against each other. His mouth reaches for mine. When our lips collide, a surge of electricity passes through me, lighting up every skin cell and every nerve.
“Do you know what comes next?” I whisper, suddenly feeling foolish and naïve. Seeing two strangers in an upload is one thing. Working out the logistics yourself is another.
“I know what comes next.”
Suddenly his hand is on the inside of my thigh. I gasp in surprise. In delight. I’m starting to think Kaelen’s uploads were slightly more thorough than mine. My body responds to his touch immediately.
Made for each other.
His lips reach for mine again as his hand starts to move. My breath sh
udders. I close my eyes.
And I see his face.
Not Kaelen’s.
His.
Lyzender’s.
“I’ve just been waiting a long time for this,” he says, gazing tenderly down upon me.
“For what?”
“For you to feel … well … for you to feel ready, I guess.”
I shut my eyes tight and try to push it away but the imagery is too strong. Or the champagne is too weak. It’s a battle and the memory is winning. The guilt is standing by, ready to consume me and splinter me apart from the inside.
“Something that will bring us closer together. As close together as we can be … it’s not really something I can explain. I mean, I could … but I think I’d rather just show you. It would be more meaningful that way.”
I want to cry out. I want to scream for him to go away. Get out of my mind. Get out of my thoughts. You’re not welcome here anymore.
But there’s something about his intense eyes that I can’t chase away. No matter how hard I try. No matter how much I want to.
The sickness starts to bloom inside of me. The unrelenting shame that always accompanies his memory spreads like a deadly virus. It will consume me. It will double me over in wretched agony.
“Stop!” I shout. Kaelen jerks up, regarding me with concern.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head. I want to tell him that it wasn’t him I was shouting at. It was Lyzender. It was the image of his face bubbling to the surface whenever it pleases. Regardless of where I am, who I’m with, what I’m doing.
I just want to be left alone!
I push Kaelen off me. “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice trembling beyond recognition. “I can’t do this.”
I launch out of bed and am halfway across the suite in a nanosecond. I’m fast but Kaelen is faster. He always has been.
He’s in front of me before I can blink. His strong hands gripping my arms. His eyes full of questions. “What’s going on? Is this because of what happened on the platform yesterday?”
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