“I’m not talking about this,” Andreas interrupted, raising her hand to stop him. “As human-like as your behavior may be, you are still a ration. You’re the property of this facility, and it is my duty to learn as much as I can about you.”
“I’m not a thing!” Ayn shouted, bolting upright on the platform as his body began trembling with sudden rage. “What else could possibly matter beyond the fact that I have the same feelings that you have?”
Andreas felt a flash of fear race up her spine at the sight of the ration’s darkening face, and she took a step back, glancing towards the cabinet that held the prods. The ration scoffed.
“I stand corrected, I don’t have the same feelings that you have,” it sneered. “You’re afraid of me because of what you’re capable of, but I’m nothing like you. I could have killed you last night, does it matter that I chose not to? That I have no desire to do to you what you would so easily have done to me?”
“Of course that matters,” she stammered, edging farther away.
“No, it doesn’t. Nothing matters to you except your research, you proved that with David, but even your regret isn’t enough to make you see past your ignorance. You’ve done all of this because of the pain you feel about betraying him—what about the pain I feel knowing that Amber is out there alone, that I’m not with her? I love her the way David once loved you, yet I’m still just a thing to you!”
The ration’s words dripped with bitterness, and Andreas could feel the sting of truth in its accusations.
“That…that was different,” she insisted weakly, but even as she spoke, part of her knew that she was lying to herself. She set her jaw, forcing herself to focus. “I can’t change what you are, ration, and I certainly can’t ignore it. I made a vow as a scientist to remain objective no matter what.”
“If you were truly trying to be objective, you wouldn’t have a problem acknowledging the fact that you’re wrong,” the ration retorted. “I’m living proof that everything you believed about the program is a lie, but it’s your lack of objectivity that is preventing you from admitting it.”
“That’s not―”
“True? Yes, it is. You’re supposed to evaluate the evidence in front of you, but instead, you’re clinging to some preconceived notion that a bunch of idiots decided should be fact. My existence destroys the very foundation of what the ration program was supposed to be, and anyone who was truly objective would have no problem admitting it―David had no problem admitting it.”
“I don’t care what David believed, I’m not going to abandon my work!” Andreas snapped. “I’m not going to sacrifice myself for some foolish cause just because he did, I won’t give up that easily!”
The ration gave her a long look, then it shook its head.
“The fact that you think facing the truth means giving up proves my point,” it said, its tone deflating. “It’s late, Andreas, and I’m tired. Not that you care, but you and I both know that you can’t hold a conference if you don’t get any sleep. You have all the answers you can get for tonight, I’d like a break if you can manage to show a little compassion for your test subject.”
Andreas saw tears well up in the creature’s eyes as it stood to its feet, and she glanced away as she sighed.
“It is late,” she agreed. “I need to work on my outline for tomorrow, anyway.”
The ration moved towards the labcoats that hung on the wall, gathering them up and placing them on the floor in a corner of the room. It sat down and drew its knees up to its chest.
“A blanket would be nice,” the ration said, shivering as it wrapped its arms around itself. “Unless that’s too human for you.”
“I think I have one,” Andreas answered, moving into the storage room. She dug through a drawer filled with emergency supplies until she located a blanket, then she stepped back out into the lab and handed it over.
“Thank you,” the ration muttered, quickly covering itself up as it leaned back against the wall. “Good night, doctor.”
Andreas heard the ration sigh as she turned to leave, and this time, she couldn’t ignore the guilt that filled her heart.
It’s not human, she reminded herself, reaching for the light. It’s an animal, Monica, nothing more.
“Are you okay?” the ration asked, jolting her from her thoughts. Her hand was still frozen in place on the light switch, and she glanced over her shoulder.
“Would you like the light left on?” she asked quietly.
“Yes, I would.”
Andreas walked out of the lab and pulled the door shut behind her. The lights in the facility were already off, and she kept her eyes focused on the footlights that lined the stairs as she made her way down to her room. She frowned; she could feel a strange sense of shame weighing on her shoulders, and it took everything in her power to focus past it.
She reached her room and stepped inside, pausing as she glanced at the notes scattered across her floor. The conference needed to be her only priority, nothing else mattered. She sat down on her bed, grabbing a notebook as she tried to plan out what she would say, but as she began writing her outline, she couldn’t ignore the quiet echo of the ration’s words that burned in the back of her mind.
“I love her the way David once loved you…”
Tears instantly filled her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands as a sudden wave of uncontrollable sobs wracked her body.
“I’m sorry, David,” Andreas whispered between halting breaths. “I’m so sorry.”
†‡†
DAY SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Andreas tossed and turned throughout the night, her thoughts tormented by the ration’s words. She never would have expected that such depth was lurking in its mind, and the realization bothered her. Even worse was its brutal honesty—it almost seemed like it knew her better than she knew herself, and its willingness to so openly call her out on the very things she wanted to hide made her feel exposed.
She got out of bed and glanced at the clock. It was almost six in the morning, and she dressed as quickly as she could. Her notes were stacked up in a neat pile on her bedside table, and she gathered them up before hurrying out of her room. There wasn’t much time, and anxiety set her teeth on edge as she made her way to the lab. She stopped in front of the door and entered her code.
Ayn opened his eyes when he heard the beep of the keypad at the door, and he sat up, drawing the blanket around his shoulders as Andreas walked in.
“Did you sleep?” he asked, eyeing her as she stepped towards her desk.
She nodded.
“Yes.”
He frowned, focusing on the dark circles under her eyes. She was lying.
“Are you ready for the conference?”
“Almost,” Andreas answered. “I just need to go over my notes one more time.”
“You really think this is going to work?”
She shrugged.
“It’s the only chance we have, so I certainly hope it does.”
Ayn sighed, watching as she reached for a folder.
“You and me both.”
He studied her as she sorted through her notes; she seemed uncomfortable, almost as if she could tell that he was staring at her.
“You’re coming with me, by the way,” she announced, glancing up. “We can’t afford to hold anything back this time, you’re going to have to talk.”
Ayn raised a brow. He had been expecting her to say that, and he had his response prepared.
“I want clothing,” he told her firmly. She rolled her eyes.
“So you can try to escape?”
“No, because I don’t want to stand naked in front of a room full of people.”
“They’re scientists. It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. I may be the property of the resource center according to you, but the help I’ve given you entitles me to some dignity. I highly doubt my comfort will be given much reg
ard once everyone else finds out about me, so consider it a last request of your soon-to-be-dissected test subject.”
Andreas scoffed.
“They’re not going to dissect you.”
“If that’s really what you believe, I’m lucky you were smart enough to tell the difference between serum and a resolution dose.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. Ayn shrugged.
“It means you’d have to be an idiot to believe that.”
“They’re not going to dissect you,” she repeated. “I’m going to propose a five-year living study once the resolution order is taken care of, your mind alone makes you too valuable to destroy.”
“I think I’d rather be destroyed than spend five years being slowly cut into pieces,” he countered. “You’ve been dissecting me alive since I arrived here, and you and I both know that the others are going to want to join in. Will you give me clothes or not?”
Andreas met the ration’s gaze and sighed heavily. It was right about the help it had given her, and she didn’t want to risk upsetting it until after the conference.
“Fine, I’ll get you clothes,” she said, gathering her notes and setting them on the edge of her desk. “We’ll go over the plan when I get back.”
“Food would be great, too,” the ration called after her as she left. “I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon.”
She cringed. She had forgotten about that.
“I’ll give you a couple nutrition doses,” she answered. “I’ll be right back.”
Andreas closed the door behind her and hurried down the stairs to level fifteen. She stopped at the door marked ‘REQUISITIONS’; entry to this unit required a scan of her arm instead of a numerical code, and she placed her wrist under the flashing light. The door opened automatically, and Trisha, the requisitions officer, smiled in greeting.
“Good morning, Dr. Andreas!” she sang, her eyes brightening with curiosity. “I haven’t seen you here in forever, usually you send your assistant!”
Andreas returned the smile.
“It’s good to see you, Trisha. I’m in a bit of a hurry, I need to put in an immediate requisition.”
“Of course. Is your form filled out?”
“I don’t have time for that, I’m going to give you my override.”
Trisha raised a brow, eyeing her as she nodded.
“Must be important. What’s the code?”
“MA-142-213.”
Trisha typed quickly, then shook her head.
“It doesn’t look like that code is working,” she said. “According to the record, it was changed at seven this morning.”
Andreas cursed under her breath as she looked at the clock. She had missed it by three minutes, and cold dread rose up in her throat. Brenda was already starting the removal process.
“There must be a mistake,” Andreas said, rolling her eyes. “You know how the system acts up, especially now that we’re so short on server memory. It’s probably still trying to process the scan I just used to open the door!”
“Well, hopefully Base One will find a solution now that the salt mine is open,” Trisha replied. Her voice lowered, and she leaned across her desk. “Speaking of which, I heard that they still haven’t found the missing girl. They searched her room, there was a set of old settlement clothing hidden under her mattress!”
“Not surprising. Some of the new arrivals keep their clothes―”
“No, they weren’t hers! They were twice her size!”
Andreas tried not to react, but she couldn’t help the nervousness that flooded through her veins. She knew full well that getting clothing for the ration was a bad idea, but refusing would jeopardize the success of the conference. She wrestled with herself for a moment before deciding to go through with it; she could always take the clothing away after the conference, and it was too early in the day for the ration to try anything sooner than that.
Andreas forced a smile.
“Well, hopefully they can find the girl and get to the bottom of it. I’m short on time, Trisha, so can we―”
“They sent couriers to her settlement yesterday,” Trisha continued, glancing around cautiously as her voice grew even more hushed. “They should be back this afternoon, but you know what I think? I think she got lost and died somewhere along the way. Or worse—what if she’s still here? What if someone killed her and hid her body? You remember what happened eight years ago, with that new arrival from―”
“We’ve tightened our psychological testing thresholds since that incident,” Andreas answered, impatiently tapping her fingers on the counter. “No one here is a murderer, I can promise you that. Trisha, I really need to make this requisition and I don’t have time to work out this mess. Can you please make it happen for me? You know I’m in good standing, there has to be a server error.”
Trisha studied her for a moment, and Andreas held her breath as she tried to read the woman’s expression. After what seemed like forever, Trisha smiled.
“Of course, doctor,” she said. “Tell me what you need.”
“Pants, size nineteen. Shirt, size twenty-two.”
Andreas paused, trying to decide if she wanted the last item, then she sighed. The ration would likely be upset if she didn’t bring everything.
“And shoes, sole base extra-large,” she finished.
“Are you hiding a giant in that lab of yours?” Trisha laughed.
Andreas managed a playful chuckle.
“Wouldn’t you like to know!”
“The work you all do is amazing,” Trisha said as she finished typing and stood up. “We’re all grateful for the dedication of our researchers.”
“It’s nice to hear some appreciation,” Andreas answered, trying keep from snapping at the woman to hurry. “You’d be surprised how rare it is.”
Trisha disappeared into the back, returning a few moments later with a bag.
“Well, you’d hear it a lot more often if you wouldn’t wait so long between your visits to see me,” she said, setting the bag on the desk. “That’s everything, do you need anything else?”
“This should do it, thank you.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Trisha grinned, waving as Andreas turned to leave. “Good luck with your conference!”
Andreas’ heart skipped a beat, and she almost ran right into the door before managing to recover from Trisha’s comment.
“I’ll need it,” she called weakly over her shoulder. “Thanks.”
She clenched her teeth as she ran up the stairs, anger rising in her stomach. Trent had been given one simple instruction, and now she understood why her codes had been locked out―if Trisha had found out who really called the conference, Brenda definitely knew.
Andreas reached the door to her lab, but when she entered her code, the lock refused to open.
“Dammit!” she hissed, slamming her fist against the wall. Brenda must have reset her regular code in addition to her override. She fumed under her breath, trying to think of what to do, when she saw the handle turn. The door opened, and she sighed with relief―the ration had used the manual lock to let her in.
“They shut you out,” it mused, stepping back as she entered. “Still think your plan is going to work?”
The lab’s main door was propped open with a chair, and Andreas angrily pushed it out of the way, marching into the room and tossing the bag of clothes down on the desk.
“Brenda knows I’m up to something,” she snapped. “There’s no other reason for them to lock my codes out. I’ll get the nutrition doses―”
“I already took them,” the ration told her as it began to get dressed. “I read over your outline, too. It’s terrible.”
Andreas scoffed.
“I don’t care about your opinion―”
“Maybe not, but you should,” the ration chuckled sarcastically. “I want to survive this, Andreas, but I can almost guarantee that they’re
going to vote against you out of spite if you start off with what you’ve written.”
“What I’ve written is accurate!”
The ration paused halfway through putting the shirt on and turned to look at her.
“Despite the unrelenting opposition of my colleagues and their utter disrespect for both my position as a researcher and my theories, my unwavering dedication prevented me from abandoning the pursuit of this project,” the ration mocked in a high-pitched voice, perfectly quoting the introduction of her outline. Its tone dropped back to normal as it gave her a withering glare. “Really, Andreas? It’s no wonder none of them like you.”
“Like I said, it’s accurate!” she snapped indignantly. “None of them supported me!”
“And you really think now is the time to point that out? You want them to agree with you, not give them more reasons to hate you.”
Andreas crossed her arms and returned the glare.
“They will agree with me because they won’t want to be wrong again. That’s exactly what I said in the next paragraph―”
“Lead off with David,” the ration interrupted, making a face as it finished pulling the shirt over its head. It bent down to put the shoes on. “You need to introduce him from the start—the resolution order is based on Project Nine, so everyone should know right from the beginning that you’re proving that the board’s vote was wrong.”
Andreas’ voice died in her throat as she blinked in surprise.
“I’m sure the board members weren’t the only ones who thought David was crazy, so your best option is to play into that,” the ration went on. “Don’t say a word about being right―you need to tell everyone the exact opposite. People are more likely to admit that they were wrong if someone else goes first, so you need to go first. Present the fact that you betrayed David as evidence that you weren’t on his side, which will also lend more credibility to the work you’ve done to prove him right. They’re more likely to see your results as objective if they think you went into this in an attempt to validate his failure rather than to vindicate him.”
CENTER 82 (RATION) Page 32
