Convergence

by Marita Smith

  “Go!”

  Sara and Ming flashed past Kara, knocking her to the ground where she spun on her butt.

  “Jesus,” Kara wheezed. She raised her walkie-talkie. “They’re headed your way, sis.” She pushed herself to her feet. Eva bounded through the underbrush, Fletcher keeping pace. Robyn watched them until they disappeared from view, her spoon poised centimetres from her mouth, forgotten. A flicker of green light shrouded Fletcher’s skin. High-frequency electromagnetic radiation. Catherine had told her what Ariana had done in Beijing, produced a force field like the one Fletcher had created that had encased the van and reflected bullets.

  “Moving fast,” Kara added over the walkie-talkie, staring at the rustling forest in their wake before turning to Robyn.

  “Morning.” Kara dropped onto the bench beside her.

  “What’s all this?” gesticulated Robyn with her spoon. Eli and Jacob walked beside an ornamental flowerbed, Una rocking on the walker’s shoulder. All three walkers, right here, together. Eli’s aura was red, Catherine had said. Red, green, blue. Robyn frowned at her bowl. After a physics class one afternoon, she’d had an argument with her mother about primary colours. Her mother had insisted they were red, yellow and blue. To an artist, they were. But the primary colours of light were red, green and blue. Together they made white light. It felt like there was something there, something buried deep in her mind. Robyn tried to coax it out but was met with a solid wall.

  The walkie-talkie crackled and emitted a loud thud. “Jeez, you found me already,” Kate moaned. “It’s a tie. Stop the clock, sis.”

  Kara pulled a stopwatch from her pocket. “Four minutes, twenty-two seconds.”

  “Nine kilometres in four minutes? I can barely run a kilometre in five.” Kate sucked in air. Over the walkie-talkie, it sounded like a vacuum cleaner choking on a small animal.

  Kara grinned into the walkie-talkie. “Good work, guys. Take five.”

  Robyn stared into the forest. “Kate’s out there somewhere?”

  “Padded suit. She looked like a marshmallow driving out there in the truck.”

  Sure enough, Robyn heard the thrum of a vehicle, faint but audible.

  “Thought we’d keep everyone occupied and away from the shit storm in there.” Kara cocked her head toward the open door. “How long before you guys rip each other to shreds?”

  Robyn choked on her muesli. “That’s not fair,” she spluttered. “Though it’s tenser than I would have hoped,” she allowed.

  Kara rolled her eyes. “You’re all too similar. Obsessed. Possessed, even.” She lifted both hands in mock surrender. “In a good way, don’t get me wrong. We’ve come this far.”

  “I just can’t read Derek. Or Catherine.” Robyn put down her bowl. “I better get back in there.” She was terrified to see Catherine again, still furious at Derek. Plus she had nowhere to hide.

  “You know, for a smart person, you can be really blind,” said Kara.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way they both look at you, Robyn. How can you not have noticed? They’re both smitten. Jeez. Multiple discovery, or whatever you scientists call it, but you’ve got them both hooked.”

  Robyn stared into the milky depths of her muesli. Derek and Catherine like me?

  “I … uh …” Robyn’s mind raced. Derek’s touchy-feely hand-holding. Catherine nuzzling into her neck. Is Kara right? Is that why she’s so damn angry at both of them?

  “So?” prodded Kara. “I never thought about it, but maybe that’s why you’ve been off the dating wagon. You never met the right girl.”

  Robyn didn’t trust herself to speak. Gay gay gay. She didn’t know if her parents would ever speak to her again. An image of her mother worrying her wooden rosary beads made her stomach clench upward to her ribcage.

  “It’s okay, you know.” Kara shrugged. “If you were. And screw your parents. You’re well and truly an adult now, Robyn.”

  Had she been ignoring a part of herself? Robyn closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of Catherine’s weight against her back. She’d never felt that rush of heat with Levi, or Travis. Or Derek, she realised in a rush.

  Ariana skidded out the door. “Hey, Kara? Would you mind driving me back to the beach?”

  Kara got to her feet. “Sure thing, kiddo.” She turned to Robyn. “Good luck in there.”

  Robyn nodded. I need it.

  Terence washed his hands at the sink and pulled off his scrubs. “That should do it. Lie still while the local anaesthetic wears off.” Eli and Sara lay on their stomachs on the stainless-steel counter, Ming sprawled alongside Sara, her head resting on the girl’s hip. The dishwasher vibrated as it dealt with the breakfast dishes.

  Terence pulled his jacket back on and stuffed the scrubs into a bag. “I’d like to talk to you about your experience in Beijing. Anything you can remember will really help us.”

  “Whatever we can do to help, short of organ donation.” Sara sat up. “Ow, my neck is sore.”

  “Good,” said Terence. “That means the anaesthetic is wearing off.”

  Sara screwed up her face and ran a tentative hand across her neck. “Thanks for this.”

  Eli shimmied off the counter onto a stool. Una flapped down from her perch atop the fridge to alight on his shoulder. Terence knew it should still feel weird, but it was strangely normal having the animals hanging around. They just seemed to be extensions of the convergers.

  “You guys should take it easy today.” He realised as soon as he said it that neither of them would heed his advice. Sara jumped down from the counter with a snort and disappeared into the corridor. Eli trailed after her, taking a final wide-eyed look around the kitchen as the door swung shut behind him. It wasn’t until he reached the lab that Terence thought to wonder where Eli was from. He looked at everything as if seeing it for the first time. Somewhere rural, maybe northern China? He’d have to ask Eli about it later.

  Derek and Robyn stood side by side, hunched over a broad ream of paper. The gene sequences, Terence realised. He wondered if a truce had been forged. He flicked a glance to Catherine, perched on a stool off to one side. She looked better, he thought. Bruises across her cheek and bandages up to her shoulder, but more vibrant. Catherine gave him a weak wave and Terence brightened.

  “Hey, you’re looking better.”

  Catherine smiled. “Thanks, it’s good to be back.”

  Robyn’s head thrummed with possibilities. Derek had run the samples three times. The new convergers’ DNA didn’t change. As much as she was still angry with him, she couldn’t dispute the results.

  “It’s stable,” she said, pointing to the sequences. “The operon, it’s all there, but it doesn’t shift like the walkers’ DNA.” Terence murmured to Catherine, who smiled as she pushed her hair behind her ears.

  Catherine hopped down from her stool and jerked a stiff arm over the pages.

  “We should be able to screen for this,” Catherine said. “Sara and Jacob – they were the only survivors of Fang’s radiation treatment. Maybe they had these genes all along. Maybe the treatment just triggered transcription.”

  Robyn nodded, following along, doing her best to bury last night’s incident. “So there might be others with the same sequence, who could be potential convergers.” She tried to ignore the goosebumps rising along her arm where it brushed Catherine’s. She flushed at the memory of Catherine’s cheek against her neck. Focus.

  “And then what?” said Terence. “Could we find them?”

  “No. We’d have to do one better. We’d have to figure out how to activate their convergence sequence.”

  “What?” Robyn turned to Derek. “We have to do what? Even if we could, which I’m not sure we can, how could we force that on people?”

  Derek shook his head. “It’s the MRI that is forcing our hand, Robyn. Can’t you see? If we don’t figu
re it out before them, it’ll happen on their terms. You saw the chips. It won’t be just a genetic leap. It could be worldwide enslavement.”

  Robyn hesitated a beat as the reality sank in. She took a step back from the counter and Catherine filled the space, leaving Derek and Catherine side by side. They were so different – Derek’s firm stance, broad shoulders that tensed as he gestured over the sequences. Catherine was taller than him, Robyn realised. Her blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail revealed an expanse of neck.

  “Okay, so we need a vector. Something to transmit an activation signal.” Terence’s face was screwed up in thought.

  Derek tapped the sequences. “Yeah, but first we need to figure out what that signal is. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Catherine bundled up the gene sequences. “I’ll get started on the screening program.”

  Robyn’s head ached. Catherine looked annoyingly calm and collected as she headed further down the bench. Robyn felt like her brain might implode. Maybe Catherine had forgotten about last night. Maybe Catherine did that to every sexually confused girl she stumbled upon. Robyn rubbed her temples. She had to stop going around in circles before she went insane. Derek was right. They had a lot of work to do.

  “You okay?” Terence asked. It was just them in the big lab space now.

  No, not really. She’d seen how Terence’s eyes lingered on Catherine. She couldn’t talk to him about it, about any of it.

  “I guess,” Robyn said. “It’s a lot. I’m not sure about this.”

  “Me neither. But we have to try, right? We’re not like Fang, Robyn. You can trust us.”

  Robyn flicked her gaze to Derek, hauling reagents from the fridge in the glass-walled room. “I hope so. I just … at least it couldn’t get any more complicated, right?”

  “Uh, guys? There’s something we need to tell you.” Fletcher appeared in the doorway with Eli. “And I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

  Robyn’s stomach plummeted.

  Robyn rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to ignore the dull pounding in her skull. Fletcher had called it sun song. It sounded familiar. She kept hitting that block in her mind, as if she had a bank of repressed memories buried deep in there somewhere.

  “A solar storm, maybe. An onslaught of electromagnetic radiation. X-rays, charged particles, plasma. A big one hit Earth in 1859. A coronal mass ejection reached the magnetosphere and triggered a geomagnetic storm. That was before computers, electricity networks, the internet. It wiped out the telegram system,” said Terence.

  “What could it do today?” asked Catherine.

  Terence drummed his fingers on the counter. “It could wipe out all our technology. It’d take out the satellites first. Then it would fry the electricity grids. No internet, water, sewage, nothing. It’d be like the Apocalypse. Civilisation would be in chaos and it could take us decades to recover.”

  Derek shook his head. “See? I knew it would be something quantifiable. Maybe we’re just looking at this from the wrong angle.”

  “Oh, shut up, Derek,” Catherine spat. “Can’t you see this is bigger than that? You weren’t there in Beijing. I saw what Eli and Ariana are capable of. This isn’t in a textbook, all nice and neat. It’s happening right now, around you, and you refuse to see it.”

  Derek stared at Catherine in shock. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”

  Catherine tipped her head back in exasperation. “Yes, for the love of God, yes.”

  “Stop it, both of you.” Robyn stood, pushing the stool under the lab counter as she turned to Fletcher. Derek and Catherine stared at her.

  “You think we have just under a year? Ten months?”

  Fletcher nodded. “Yeah, that’s what Lenti said.”

  “It’s not a lot of time.”

  Fletcher shook his head. “No, it’s not.” He scuffed his shoe against the ground. “No pressure, but Lenti thinks we’ll need the others. The other convergers.”

  Robyn closed her eyes. “So we have ten months to come up with an activation dose.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” said Catherine. “It’s no-one’s fault,” she amended, flashing an angry glance at Derek.

  “And then what?” said Terence. “We can’t stop the sun.”

  “But maybe we can stop Nyx,” said Fletcher, his voice stronger now.

  Nyx. Robyn screwed her eyes shut, willing the memory to surface, but nothing came. When she opened her eyes, Derek and Catherine still stared at her.

  “What?” Robyn said, looking between the two of them. Derek stomped out of the lab, slamming the door shut behind him. Robyn felt like punching a wall – it would have about the same effect as trying to get through to Derek. This is all real, she wanted to scream at him. It seemed to come from deep inside her, the conviction that everything Fletcher said was correct.

  If they only had ten months, they didn’t need to squander any more time bickering. Robyn turned away from Catherine’s puzzled stare and squeezed her eyes shut. Colours danced behind her eyelids. Red, green, blue.

  25

  Screening

  Fang stood facing the tinted glass, assessing the activity on the lower floor. Scientists scurried around, aware she observed them from above. Lab rats, Fang thought. Her brother would groan if she told him, but he never had appreciated her humour. She wondered when she would see him next. The space below was barely more than a hastily converted warehouse, but it was operational. Even if it was in Sofia, Bulgaria.

  “Fang?” Vulcan tapped the desk impatiently.

  She turned away from the window. Vulcan’s office, she reminded herself. Fang sank into one of the armchairs facing the desk; it was made of some rich, dark wood.

  “Any progress on the gene sequencing?” Vulcan leaned back in his chair. Fang wondered if Vulcan had made Derek feel quite so insignificant. Her cheeks burned as she studied her fingers.

  “Both Eli and Fletcher’s DNA is different.” Fang wasn’t sure how to say it without sounding like a nutcase. “It fluctuates. Each time I analyse the samples, it changes.”

  Vulcan snorted. “Impossible.”

  Fang pushed the folder across the desk. Mahogany, she decided, her fingers tracing the smooth whorls. Too good for the interim Chief Director.

  Vulcan flipped the folder open with an irritated sigh. He skimmed through the pages as Fang squirmed in her seat. The armchair smelled of stale cigar smoke; it clung to her skin.

  “Run them again. You’ve obviously made a mistake.”

  Fang’s cheeks burned. “That’s nine duplicate analyses so far, sir. This is no mistake.”

  Vulcan waved a hand at her, already turning back to his computer. “Come back with results. I don’t have time for this.”

  The dismissive gesture made her blood boil. Fang coaxed her files back into the folder and strode toward the door. Miranda had never treated her like this. She fumed as she descended the stairs back to the main laboratory. Somehow Sara and Jacob’s samples had been lost in the explosion; she hadn’t taken long-term samples for cold storage yet. Her fault. Fang dumped the folder on her lab bench. Everything seemed to be her fault.

  The clatter of glassware tinkled up and down the row. Fang’s neighbour tipped her head in a nod, then froze as she recognised Fang. The blonde scientist with the injured leg. “Fang?” the woman said, almost a whisper. “What are you doing down here?”

  Fang’s neck prickled with goosebumps. She knew Vulcan watched them from his eyrie.

  “Working,” Fang managed. “Just like you.”

  Catherine burst into the lab with wide eyes. “I think I’ve done it,” she announced.

  Robyn stared at her, not comprehending. “The screening test?” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and abandoning Derek’s spreadsheets. Robyn’s fingers itched to draw Catherine into
a hug, but she clenched her fists by her sides instead, remembering the self-satisfied smirk.

  Catherine’s smile wavered. Robyn felt a small thrill of victory.

  “What’s up? I heard shrieking.” Terence stuck his head out of one of the analysis rooms. Derek poked his out of the machine room. A pair of sentry meerkats.

  “Catherine. She may have figured out how to screen for the convergence genes.”

  Catherine waved the folder above her head.

  Robyn perched on the edge of a stool and gave Catherine her full attention, enjoying the way it made her jump. Take that, she thought.

  Catherine recovered. “Okay. So with Sara and Jacob’s gene sequences we know what we’re looking for, right?”

  Robyn nodded. “But we can’t sequence blood samples from everyone. It’s not practical. Each analysis takes hours.” It would take years to process even a small fraction of the blood bank.

  “Yeah. But because it’s mitochondrial, it’s linked to their energy production.”

  “Which we can monitor,” said Terence, nodding. “Go on.”

  Catherine sent Terence an annoyed glance. “I was just getting to that. Anyway, yes, we can monitor mitochondrial mass with an assay for citrate synthase activity. I found a spectrophotometer in the back of a cupboard in the machine room.”

  “Oh, so that’s why you pushed me out of the way,” Derek snapped. “I thought you just wanted to annoy me.”

  Catherine closed her eyes for a second and Robyn tensed ready to intervene, but the terse response didn’t come. Instead, Catherine pushed a ream of paper across the bench. “Sara and Jacob both have extremely high levels of enzyme activity. Way higher than any elite athlete.”

  Robyn stared at the numbers. Mitochondrial mass equalled number of mitochondria. More mitochondria, more energy.

  “Could it be so simple?” Robyn said. She felt dumb for not thinking of it, especially after seeing Sara and Fletcher sprint into the forest. Too fast. She frowned; she’d been thinking about the light, the colours …

  “The assay takes hours, so I’m not sure you could call it simple,” Catherine said, hands on hips. “But it means if we can get blood samples, we can assess whether someone is likely to have the convergence gene sequence without going to all the effort of gene sequencing. A shortcut.”