by Rachel Cohn
Elysia swims to my side and gives me a comforting rub on my arm as I process the information. I don’t know what to feel. I’ve been too scared to be hopeful that Aidan survived. Now, I have to insist on that hope.
“So what’s the plan?” Tahir asks, getting down to business. “We don’t have much time.”
“There isn’t one,” Xander informs us. “The odds are so stacked against us that maybe the best way to act is without a plan. Maybe waiting for the right opportunity is what has squandered previous opportunities.”
“We don’t think,” says Tahir. “We just do.”
“Just like our synchro dive,” says Elysia. I feel her assurance: We can conceivably accomplish the unlikely, unrehearsed.
From outside the coral reef dome, the sharks hungrily dart upward, and we follow. Their food is being thrown to them from the bridge, where we see Bahiyya standing. We swim to the surface and remove our hoods.
“Hello!” Bahiyya greets us amiably. “I’m so happy you’re enjoying our indoor pool. Enjoy this last swim, my darlings! Tariq has requested a security sweep of the compound. The engineers arrive this afternoon. As a result, the aquarium will be out of commission for diving indefinitely.”
“THE WALLS ARE CLOSING IN,” says Elysia to me. She’s followed me to my quarters after our deep dive in the aquarium. She rummages through the clothes in the wardrobe in my bedroom, distractedly picking through dresses and blouses that were originally custom made for her when she came to visit the Fortesquieus on “loan,” when she was still owned by the Governor and Mother, the thought of which makes me crazy with anger.
“Agreed,” I say, pulling out a magenta frock that would complement Elysia’s fuchsia eyes only too well. I put it back into the wardrobe and pull out a basic black dress to throw on after I shower.
“That one’s too tight in the chest,” says Elysia. She throws me a peach-colored sundress. “This will look nice with your brown eyes.” She sounds envious. My brown eyes humanize me. Elysia’s announce her inferior status.
“Thanks, but I think I can figure out how to dress myself. What are you doing in here? Don’t you prefer to be alone with Tahir any chance possible?” I think of seeing Aidan’s face again in the coral reef dome, and I wish I could have the second chance that Elysia is having.
“Soon enough,” Elysia says cryptically.
At the opposite end of my room, a clone maid is tidying up the area with a feather duster. The maid looks almost like a perfect blond doll that I used to play with as a child—straw-haired, thin but curvy, fresh-faced. The maid’s First could have been a girl I went to high school with, for all I know. The maid looks so young, or maybe it’s that after everything I’ve been through since leaving Cerulea, I feel so old.
Elysia looks at the maid, then back at me. She mouths the question Spy?
I shrug. Could be. All this money and technology and the Demesne architects couldn’t also eliminate dust from their atmosphere? Certainly the sudden “security sweep” of the aquarium was alarming. The Fortesquieus have warmly welcomed us—but there’s clearly an abundance of distrust on the island, despite the failure of the Insurrection and the takeover by ReplicaPharm.
The island is more vulnerable than ever, I realize, because it’s in a time of transition. Soon, the takeover and “security sweeps” will be entrenched—and intractable.
“Xander was right. Now is the time,” I murmur to Elysia.
Within days, Xander’s extradition will probably be approved. Security holes exposing any vulnerabilities on Demesne from the ReplicaPharm transition will be fixed and closed. We can’t wait again, like we did on Heathen.
“Tahir and I are just Awful enough to make it happen,” Elysia says with a smile. She leads me to the corner of the room where there’s a standing globe on display. She spins it around, and when it finally stops, she places her finger on Humanitas. “Will we go Awful here?” she asks me, then places her finger on the Mainland. “Or here?” She’s trying to tell me something, but I’m not sure what. “Will you come?”
Her eyes go distant for a moment, and a dreamy expression settles on her face, the same expression she often has when looking at Tahir. They’re going to escape! I realize. I think that’s what she’s trying to tell me.
“I could never leave her,” I say, not understanding I truly mean what I say until I’ve already said it.
“Who?”
I make a cradle with my hands. The baby in the womb machine. Elysia’s baby, who is as much mine as hers.
“It was a girl?” Elysia says, softly.
I nod.
Elysia looks toward the maid. “She will be treated like an object. Like that.”
“Not on my watch,” I say.
“Hey,” Elysia calls to the maid. “Come here. I have a question for you.”
Elysia has completely dropped the subject of her baby, and she’s calling forth the maid with an out-of-character tone of entitlement. Is this reaction a further encroachment of Awful?
The maid approaches us. “Yes, miss?” she asks, her face set to helpful.
“What do you want?” Elysia asks the maid.
“To make these quarters as clean and comfortable as possible, of course,” the maid responds.
I see where Elysia’s going. She wants to know if these clones even want Insurrection for themselves. Certainly the Emergents did—but their souls had been uncovered by ’raxia. Are the clones who weren’t turned just as happy to remain safe and soulless?
“Is there anything you want for yourself?” I ask the maid.
Her eyes blink, trying to access information on her chip. I don’t know if there’s a malfunction there, or just the news we wanted to hear, but the maid points to Elysia and responds, “To be like her, of course.”
Tahir bursts into my room, looking for Elysia. “Time to go,” he tells Elysia.
“Where?” she asks him.
“We’ve been granted an audience with the Terrible Ts. Right now,” says Tahir. “They’re fully Awful, with not long to live. Let’s learn what we can from them before it’s too late.”
“HOW DO YOU KNOW YOU’VE GONE AWFUL?” I ask Tahir while we Aviate over the island, en route back to ReplicaPharm HQ for our visit with the Terrible Ts. “I mean, for sure.”
Sitting next to me, Tahir removes a hazel contact lens from his left eye, revealing that the eye is not so hazel. It’s also peppered with small bits of black, like minuscule dots. Tahir says, “A Beta’s eyes turn black as they go Awful. Once the eyes are fully black, it’s only a matter of time before they die. Months, not years.”
I grab on to his thigh, nearly clutching him to an early death. “Months! That’s not enough time with you!”
“I’m not fully there yet. We still have some time. But the clock is ticking.”
“Why do you wear the contact lenses?”
“So my eyes are not a constant reminder to Bahiyya.” He calls her by her first name; he is sometimes insolent to her and takes her for granted, but he must love First Tahir’s mother on some level, to so want to protect her.
“How did you know for sure you’d gone Awful? Because of your eyes?”
“That. Plus, a sudden surge of feelings. Huge feelings. Like waves—big, surfer waves. Happy. Sad. Angry. Tender. Lustful. Indifferent. After we took ’raxia together, it was like all this stuff pent up inside me was unlocked. Then, that night of the Governor’s Ball, it all came together. I saw how you were treated so badly by the Governor’s family. I wanted to escape with you right away, but felt completely helpless and frustrated as to how to pull it off. It felt impossible. All of a sudden, the feelings became not just waves, but like a tsunami. I couldn’t contain it, so Bahiyya and Tariq whisked me away in the dead of night against my will.”
“And since then you’ve been steadily Awful?”
He shrugs. “Awful is not so bad. It’s riding crests of wild emotions, but sometimes they’re great. Intense. Like when I’m with you. You’re part of the re
ason Father helped facilitate the Demesne sale to ReplicaPharm. He knew that’s the only way I would have you in my life again.”
“He wants you to be happy.”
“In his sometimes suffocating way, yes.” I lean my head on his shoulder. He takes my hand in his and places a soft kiss on it. “Your First is beautiful, even if she’s not as beautiful as you. The Aquine will transfer his feelings back to her, if she lets him.”
I confess, “It might not be that easy for him. She has feelings now for the Emergent who saved her, Aidan. It won’t be so easy for Xander to win her back now. Her loyalty is divided.” I pause, then confess, “I worry I’m getting to be more like her.”
“How so?”
“I’m not as docile as when I first emerged. Now I am moody, like her. Snarky, like her.”
“I feel like I’m becoming more like First Tahir, as well. Maybe not as outgoing as him, but definitely more into risk and adventure than I was before the Awfuls started.” Tahir places a kiss on my lips. “Your docility was programmed behavior. I love your moody-snarky. Even if it comes from your First.”
My mouth lingers for another kiss from his, but I cannot avoid the inevitable any longer. I haven’t checked my own eyes. “Is there a mirror in here?”
Tahir opens a compartment built into the middle of the seat across from us, and pulls out a mirror. Before he hands it to me, he asks, “Are you prepared for what you might see?”
If he had to ask, I already know the answer. “I think you’ve just prepared me.” I take the mirror and look closely at my eyes. Indeed, there are specks of black. Not as many or as noticeable as Tahir’s. But they are there.
“How long?” I ask him.
“Six months to a year,” Tahir says.
I see tears well in my eyes as my heart clenches with a hard, brutal pain I have not experienced before, as if it were being ripped apart. Theoretically I understood what would happen to me because of the Awfuls, but this is the first physical evidence I’ve seen confirming it.
I just got here, and soon enough, I will be leaving this life. Perhaps this is what humans mean, literally, by heartbreak.
The Aviate approaches the new ReplicaPharm headquarters, formerly Dr. Lusardi’s compound. I cannot recall seeing the campus from the outside, up close. There appear to be about five different structures, the size of small office buildings, built directly into Mount Orion, the mountain that towers over Demesne, surrounded by razor-edge ridges rising high up into the sky. The midlevel buildings on the mountain are camouflaged in green-and-brown exteriors, so from a distance they appear to be part of the mountain. Only up close is it apparent that the mountain is home to structures and not just jungle. As the Aviate glides closer to the campus, the mountainside parts, revealing a landing strip.
The Aviate lands inside, and the mountain “doors” close again. We disembark and are met by a male scientist wearing a white lab coat. Behind him stand two soldiers—the same tall, laser-eyed species who ambushed the Emergents back on Heathen.
“Welcome,” the scientist says to us. “I’m Dr. Gaddis. I’m pleased you’re able to join us today. Tamsin and Tarquin don’t have visitors often. To have all the Betas together in one room will be an excellent data-mining opportunity for us.”
“Awesome,” says Tahir dryly. Tahir has mastered sarcasm! I kind of love his Awful as much as I fear its consequences.
Dr. Gaddis leads us to a mobile glider cart and gestures for us to sit in the back. The cart begins moving. As we are transported, Dr. Gaddis says, “The Betas are in late-stage Awfuls. It could be any day now. You may find their behavior more pronounced than your previous visit, Tahir.”
“Are they truly terrible?” I ask Tahir.
“Define terrible,” says Tahir.
I can’t define it, I realize. Terrible or Awful—these seem like subjective judgments. I committed murder. That is terrible. But the humans create clones to essentially be their slaves. And yet the world economy seems to benefit from their terrible. Is there an actual dividing line between good and evil, and if so, how could anyone possibly arbitrate that distinction?
“I don’t feel qualified to judge,” I say.
“Fascinating,” says Dr. Gaddis, eyes gleaming. I want to kick him. “The team is excited for this interaction. From your previous encounters, Tahir, we know that Beta hormone levels fluctuate dramatically when you interact with your own kind. We’ll be monitoring your conversation and biochemistry closely today.”
“You don’t need to inform us of that,” says Tahir, sounding haughty. “We understand that you adults give us no privacy.”
“Excellent,” says Dr. Gaddis.
The mobile glider stops. We step out and stand in front of a set of gray doors in a long, nondescript hallway. “Entry: Gaddis,” says Dr. Gaddis. Tahir and I step inside, and the doors close behind us.
“This is where the Terrible Ts live,” Tahir tells me. He takes my hand.
The “dormitory” looks like an empty FantaSphere room, cubelike with whitewashed walls. Suddenly, the back wall drops, revealing another room, with floor-to-ceiling glass comprising the back wall, offering an expansive view over Io—and the steep vertical drop down to the sea. The room is simple and bright, the only furnishings being two violet-colored chairs and a deep purple velvet love seat centered against the back window wall, where a set of teenager lovebirds are splayed, the male on top of the female, making out.
“I’ll leave you to interact,” says Dr. Gaddis, and he exits the room.
Tahir and I approach the Terrible Ts, who stop kissing but do not otherwise disentangle their bodies. The female, Tamsin, turns her face sideways to us and says, “Oh, hello.” She is pale-skinned, with long, unkempt flame-red hair and a freckled face.
“Tahir. What’s up?” says Tarquin, the male, as he blatantly inspects me head to toe, his face looking lecherous. He has a mess of curly black hair down to his shoulders, and the kind of medium-toned skin and generic features of a First blended from many ethnicities.
Both sets of their Beta eyes are fully black. Those eyes must be why Tahir and I were granted an immediate visit. This could be the first and last opportunity to see the Terrible Ts.
Tarquin sits up, removing himself from Tamsin, who sits up also and then rests herself in his lap, nestling her head against his shoulder. Her long red hair drapes across his chest.
Tahir and I sit down on the pair of matching purple chairs opposite Tamsin and Tarquin. “This is Elysia,” Tahir tells them. “She’s another Beta.”
“We’ve heard,” says Tamsin, her voice set to mocking. “The superior new model. Blah blah blah.”
“Aesthetically perfect,” continues Tarquin. “So perfectly awesome she gets to live at the Fortesquieu compound.”
“Like a little doll,” Tamsin coos.
“I’d like to know more about your background,” I tell them.
“Why should we tell you anything?” Tamsin asks.
“Because I’m like you. We should feel a sense of connection.” The Terrible Ts regard me with disgust. “Shouldn’t we?” I ask, confused.
Tarquin and Tamsin shake their heads in sync.
“No,” says Tarquin, as Tamsin says, “Not really.”
Tahir tells me, “They only understand connection to each other. They’ve been sequestered here for the last year, since the other three members of the Five clones expired. This room is their isolation chamber, their entire world. They’ve never left it since being brought to Demesne.”
In my curiosity to experience the real world, I’ve felt wholly trapped being confined to Demesne and Heathen. But at least I was able to move about in each place. The Terrible Ts’ jail cells have been much, much smaller than mine. My chip relates that I have been relatively privileged, and now I understand their resentment.
Tamsin says, “But in my head, I’ve been all kinds of places! Like, I go shopping in Beijing, dune riding in Biome City, trekking in the Andes. I party hard in the New City of Angel
s. So long as Tarquin is with me, we can go anywhere, in our minds.”
“Should we have a foursome? Not in our minds, but for real?” Tarquin asks, implying he’s about to lift his shirt.
“No!” I say hastily.
“He was making a joke,” Tahir tells me. “For the data-miners’ benefit.”
Tamsin shouts to no one in particular, “LET’S GIVE THE ADULTS A REAL SHOW, WHY DON’T WE?! FORNICATE RIGHT HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM? THAT’S WHAT THEY WANT, RIGHT?”
Tarquin sounds proud as he informs me, “They want what we have, you know. They’re trying to steal our energy. That’s why we’re lab rats like this.” I’m unclear if he’s proud to be the lab rat, or proud that he’s the one to relay this information to me.
“Do you have a razor?” Tamsin asks me.
“No?” I answer. “Why would I?” These two aren’t so much terrible as terribly confusing to me. I have no idea how to process all the information they’re giving me. Somewhere, the ReplicaPharm scientists here must be having a party reading all the disjointed signals my body must be sending back to their stupid data machines.
Tamsin says, “I don’t know, I just hoped you would. I really want to tear up this fabric. I just hate it. Hate it!” She reaches to her side to violently scratch at the arm of the love seat, but Tarquin pulls it back.
“Don’t ruin another piece of furniture, Tamsin baby,” he tells her. “Every time you do they take away something else.”
“Like what?” asks Tahir.
“Not privacy,” Tamsin fumes. “That’s already gone.”
