The Unhappening of Genesis Lee

by Shallee McArthur

  Someone stepped out of the car.

  “Why, Genesis Lee,” Matthews crooned. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  He smiled, wide as Liza Woods, and winked at me.

  29

  O heart, how fares it with thee now,

  That thou shouldst fail from thy desire . . .

  —Alfred, Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam IV

  “We are so stupid!” I hissed as we marched down a hallway in handcuffs. A holo-projection of a trendy, professional woman glided along the wall next to us, chirping about the many life-improving technologies Ascalon had to offer.

  “Gena—” Kalan started.

  “No, we were stupid! We should have known he’d have guards!”

  I wrenched my arms in their handcuffs. The guard holding the cuff chain grunted as his finger twisted in it. Good. He deserved it for being such an idiot that he didn’t know the man he worked for spent half his time masquerading as a Populace.

  We’d rushed into the city, thrown ourselves into a brawl, and all we got for it was caught. And now Matthews knew that we knew who he was.

  Because we were so stupid.

  The guard shoved us into some kind of private lounge room and I got a look at him for the first time.

  It was Detective Jackson.

  Of course it was.

  “We’ll hold you in here for a bit. Matthews is doing the press conference now, but wants to question you afterward,” Jackson said. His voice was softer than his motions, almost apologetic. The light of full recognition glinted in his eyes.

  “You remember me?” I asked, startled.

  He frowned. “Of course.”

  “But your Link bud . . .”

  The tip of a Link bud poked from one of his ears. Proof that he was more than just a pawn.

  My lips quivered in anger. “Your Link buds aren’t connected to that SLS. You’re in on the disappearances, the Link thefts. Everything.”

  “How do you know about the machine?” Jackson crouched the tiniest bit, his shoulders hunching like he was ready to spring. “Don’t you say a word to anyone. That SLS is worth a few sacrifices. The things we can do with it . . . it means everything for our future.”

  “Worth a few sacrifices? Like me? He erased me, Jackson.” I looked into his face that had so much presence in my Links. “He wiped out every memory of me from every mind in the city.”

  Jackson reeled back like I’d hit him. “He what? When?”

  “Today.”

  He rubbed his forehead, then turned away. His uniform pulled over taut shoulders. “Gena, I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t, I would never . . .” He spun, stepping toward me. “This is insane, it’s exactly why I’m involved. Matthews is the only one with the know-how to pull this off, but he’s nuts, obsessed. I’ve got to make sure the SLS is used for the right things.”

  “So you get to decide the ‘right thing’ for everybody?”

  “You don’t understand this well enough to lecture me.”

  Now, where had I heard that before? No wonder he and my dad were best friends.

  “That SLS is destroying lives,” I said.

  “That SLS is saving lives,” he said. “It’s the most important thing we’ve ever created. We still haven’t managed to find a way to duplicate memories—”

  I snorted.

  Jackson glared. “It’s not like hitting ‘copy and paste.’ But we’ve found a close substitute. With the research Drake has done, we’ll be able to merge our memories without worrying about the taint of another person’s mind. Backups, Gena. For people like Cora. Merge memories with others, then use the new SLS to trigger the brain to see it from our point of view. No danger, no side effects.”

  He clasped his hands, shaking them at me slightly. “There are so many applications. Wouldn’t you give anything to be with your grandmother again?”

  I blinked, sickened by the realization that I no longer knew if I wanted that. I wanted her as I remembered her, but she wasn’t who I remembered. “What does that have to do with it? An SLS can’t raise the dead.”

  He leaned forward, excitement lighting his face. “It can . . . sort of. We could take the memories of the dead and make them part of us. With us all the time.”

  “Merge memories with the dead?” I gaped at him. “Is that what you want out of this?”

  I couldn’t imagine anyone going for that idea. Just because I liked to visit the Memoriam didn’t mean I wanted Grandma living inside my head. Especially now.

  Except the Memoriam was gone, Grandma lost. If I had the chance, would I save her memories from the flames by taking them into me? My chest contracted with the pain of losing her again, and I didn’t know. Whether or not her memories had burned, I’d lost her when I learned she wasn’t who I thought she was.

  I swallowed. It wasn’t her fault. I couldn’t blame her for it, it wasn’t fair to her.

  She wasn’t fair to me.

  I crushed the voice in my head. Not going to think about it.

  “We can be truly connected to the ones we’ve lost.” Jackson’s arms drifted to his sides, fingers splayed like he could take an invisible hand. “We’d never have to say goodbye again. At least not really. We could learn from them even after they’re gone, entwine their lives with ours. Think how much more we could grow. It’s a kind of immortality, Gena, a kind only the Mementi can have. They could continue to live through us. And then we could live through others.”

  Bile scalded my throat. Grandma couldn’t fix her past or build her future through memory. Memory might live on, but she was gone. As perfect as our memories were, they were only a remembrance of things we’d done, choices we’d made. This, now, was where I did the things I would remember. This, now, was what counted.

  Jackson was like some kind of misguided memory necromancer. Who had he lost that hurt him enough to pursue something so revolting? My memories cobbled together conversations I’d heard over the years. His mother. One of the many first generation suicides when Jackson was eleven.

  “You’ll understand someday,” he said. “When you’ve lost someone that matters to you.”

  I’d lost everyone that mattered to me. And they had lost me. Jackson turned to leave.

  “Hey, can we get the handcuffs off?” Kalan demanded, his intense look in place. “We’re locked up in here anyway.”

  Jackson’s nostrils flared, but he unlocked our handcuffs. I rubbed my wrists through my gloves and Jackson left. A DNA lock beeped.

  I plunked myself into one of the high-backed chairs around a coffee table made from a giant, polished tree stump. Not the right kind of chair for lounging; it forced me to sit up straight. With a huff, I stood and paced. Pathways wound through actual gardens with thick, black dirt and leafy plants. Obnoxiously cheery holo-pictures of various scientists giving “thumbs up” next to their completed projects adorned the walls. Swooping steel beams outside created bars of shadows through the room. I pushed aside the branches of a small tree and peered outside. Tenth floor, and this was solid glass, not windows.

  Kalan collapsed onto a yellow half-moon sofa surrounded by ferns. “If he keeps us locked in this room forever, I call the couch.”

  Despite the forced lightness in his tone, his face was locked in a worried position.

  I shook my head. “He’ll take us to Happenings. I’ll become his newest comatose memory experiment, and you . . .”

  I swallowed, wondering what had happened to the real Liza Woods. I had a feeling any Populace who got in Matthews’ way would go the same way she did.

  “I won’t let them do that to you,” Kalan growled. “I’ll get us out of here.”

  I wouldn’t let them do anything to him, either.

  Kalan prowled the room, banging lightly on the thick glass and checking closets and cupboards. While he made his second futile circle, my brain clicked into action. Our phones had been taken. Elijah and Joss were in jail, with no idea we’d been captured. We had no one but ourselves. I pulled up a h
undred memories a minute. Everything I knew about Matthews, everything Ren had told me, everything I knew about Happenings and Ascalon. There had to be a way out of this. If there wasn’t, I’d make one.

  “This could work,” I murmured.

  “Huh?” Kalan paused in his examination of the lofty, inaccessible ceiling.

  “This could work, Kalan.” I sat on the tree-stump table, leaning back on my arms. “Think about it. If Matthews takes us to Happenings, which I’m like 99 percent sure he will, we’ll be exactly where we wanted to go in the first place.”

  “Yeah, but we planned on taking him prisoner, not entering as prisoners ourselves.”

  “But we’ll at least be there. And we won’t be able to get in through the front doors with all the rioters there.”

  “Happenings is equipped with a great number of back doors,” Kalan said dryly.

  Smart-aleck. “Exactly. They’ll be employee entrances, with DNA-encrypted locks. He’ll have to change to Liza to get through them.” Unless he thought to use a drop of Chameleon treatment on the scanner.

  Kalan leaned on the table next to me. “A memory of him changing won’t do much good if we’re comatose in the basement.”

  I dropped from the table. “So we just give up?”

  “Jeez, Gena, I didn’t mean that.” He ran a hand through his hair. “We don’t have many options if he takes us to Happenings.”

  The sound of the DNA lock made me turn. Matthews, smiling like a charming uncle, entered the room.

  “Ah, right where I hoped to find you,” he said. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  A voice chattered excitedly from the hallway. “I can’t believe it, Drake! It’s not perfect, but using this new SLS to share memories, then merge them back to us as a copy . . . it’s brilliant!”

  My father entered the room, beaming like I’d never seen before. I momentarily forgot to breathe.

  Kalan put a protective hand on my arm. Dad. He had taken my memories from me, my life. My relationship with Kalan. It served him right that he lost his own memories. I wanted to laugh in his face, but my eyes burned. It wasn’t fair. Why did his punishment hurt me more than it did him?

  Jackson stalked in and closed the door behind him.

  “This is Kierce Lee, one of our esteemed directors,” Matthews said. “Kierce, this is Gena and Kalan. They were hoping for a bit of a tour.” He winked.

  Dad smiled at us, still reveling in Matthews’ grand reveal. “Bad day for a tour, I’m afraid. Normally I’d be happy to arrange one for you, but with everything . . .”

  Kalan was right. We had to get out of here before Matthews dragged us to his lair. And Dad, whether he remembered me or not, might be our only shot.

  I’d sworn I would never talk to him again. But Mementi were nothing if not great liars, even to ourselves.

  “We don’t want a tour,” I said. “We’re here against our will.”

  Dad coughed, his smile fading.

  Matthews smoothed his hair, shaking a bit of dry skin onto his shoulders. As unconcerned as a cow in a pasture. Dad would forget this the moment he put in his Link buds.

  Control play, then. Matthews was trying to prove how much power he had over me. But the dear mad scientist had overlooked something. Emotional memories had a habit of hanging around.

  I stepped toward my father. “My name is Genesis Lee. My parents are Kierce and Hazel. But I’m afraid you’ve forgotten you have a daughter.”

  My voice broke on the last word. I’d basically told him in the attic I didn’t want to be his daughter anymore. Now, to him, I wasn’t. Why couldn’t I just hate him and be done with it? Why did it have to hurt so much that my own words came true?

  Dad gave a nervous laugh. “I do have a daughter, a few years older than you. I’m sorry, Drake, is she . . . ?”

  Matthews smiled. “Oh, she’s perfectly sane. A little pet of mine, very odd sense of humor.”

  Emotion. I had to appeal to his emotions. “You don’t remember. Matthews has taken your memories of me. But I’m real, I’m your daughter.” Please, please don’t let me cry in front of him. “I love powdered donuts with raspberry filling, because you always bring them for me after my dance concerts. They’re your favorite too.”

  Another cough. Behind him, Jackson shifted closer to him.

  This wasn’t fair. I needed to hurt him so he could help me, but despite what he’d done, I didn’t want to.

  Because it hurt me, too.

  “You never understood the way I love the stars, like Mom does,” I said. “But when I was thirteen and Mom was working a night shift, I almost slept through a meteor shower I wanted to see. You got up at three in the morning and woke me up. We watched it together in the backyard.”

  Those meteors flashed in my mind’s eye, shooting bright pain through me. Anger couldn’t hide the pain when I had to relive the moments where I loved him.

  “Stop it,” he whispered.

  Jackson’s neck muscles strained. This was his best friend. And Jackson knew I was telling the truth.

  “Please, Dad,” I choked out. “Matthews will take us away. He can’t let us go now that we know what he’s done, who he is. Please help me.”

  Jackson turned away. Dad’s mouth opened and closed. Was he feeling anything? Would he trust that feeling?

  He forced a smile. “Well. That’s—that’s . . . quite the story.”

  My hope collapsed. Dad wouldn’t trust anything he felt if he didn’t have memories to back it up. It didn’t matter if he forgot me after this or not. He wasn’t listening in the first place.

  And Matthews knew that. Fury burned the tears from my eyes.

  Matthews chuckled from behind me. “Dear Gena, I do believe you’ve upset the poor man. Tell you what, Kierce, we don’t need a tour after all. You mind giving the news reports a listen and sending me an update on reactions to my announcement?”

  Dad backed up, nearly bumping into Jackson. “Of course. Right. Nice to, uh, meet you both.”

  He took another step back, his eyes still fixed on me.

  “Kierce,” Jackson said quietly.

  “Right.” Dad left the room, slipping in his Link buds. I watched him go, more angry than sad.

  But still a little bit sad.

  Jackson flung a hand at the door. “Was that necessary?”

  Matthews clucked his tongue. “It is always necessary to establish who is in charge.” He nodded to me. “And it was a noble effort, dear, but a lost cause. Kierce is far too good at talking to people and far too busy to listen to them. A little like my own father, actually. Always too strict in his judgments. A bit bitter about his new talents, like so many of the first generation. Bitterness stunts progress, remember that, Gena.”

  Kalan slid his hand into mine and squeezed it.

  Matthews clapped his hands together. “Well, my work here is done for the moment. I’ve finally given the people what we’ve been promising for years. Or at least the first stage of it. Now, would you care to join me in a little ride to see how Happenings is fairing?”

  He opened the door.

  “Cuffs again, please, Jackson.” Matthews smiled. “I’ll be taking these young people home.”

  The leer on his face when he said “home” made me shiver. My new home would be a basement lab at Happenings.

  Kalan’s would probably be a grave.

  30

  . . . Dragons of the prime,

  That tare each other in their slime,

  Were mellow music match’d with him.

  —Alfred, Lord Tennson, In Memoriam LVI

  Havendale looked like a ghost town through the car window. Debris and glass littered the empty sidewalks. Damaged trams leaned on their tracks. Broken chairs and tables decorated the gardens in front of the Low-G Club. Palm fronds waved in the breeze, tossing shadows over the destruction. As for the destructors themselves, they’d vanished.

  “The department has cleared a lot of the streets.” Jackson sat in the driv
er’s seat with the car on auto-drive, addressing Matthews next to him. He tapped a touchscreen in the center console, his fingers flowing like he played a delicate instrument. A transparent police report lit up the windshield. “Arrested over thirty in the last few hours. Most areas report being calmer. The National Guard has been put on hold unless things heat back up.”

  “Finally,” Matthews said. “This has been ridiculous. I never expected Mementi to fight.” He sighed. “Even the backup announcement didn’t bring people to their senses as much as I’d hoped.”

  I played with the Links around my neck. Insanity didn’t require a response.

  “They’re reporting an estimated 30 percent of the Populace left the city, at least temporarily,” Jackson said, still scanning the report on the windshield. “No solid count on that, though.”

  Matthews crossed his arms. “Good. We’ll be free to pursue our continued development with less interference.”

  The car whipped around a corner, and my stomach lurched.

  “Development.” Kalan snorted. “At the expense of a few comatose lab rats locked up at Happenings.”

  Matthews turned to face us, annoyed. “Everything comes at the expense of something else. Some things are worth sacrificing for. Even I’ve had to make sacrifices to be myself as well as Liza.” His fingers brushed his paper-thin cheeks.

  Wait. Something was wrong. If he was impersonating a Populace . . . “How have you been hiding your Link buzz as Liza?”

  “Ah, very nice attention to detail, Gena.” He sounded pleased. “As myself, I keep some nonessential Linked memories in my pocket to create a buzz. Of course, I need my real memories at all times, even as Liza, so I had to find a new material. Something like skin that wouldn’t give off a buzz, though without the emotional baggage. I found something similar.”

  Similar to skin?

  “Bone.” He lifted an arm so I could see it from the back seat. A white Link bracelet peeked from beneath his cuff.

  I recoiled. It couldn’t be human bone. He wasn’t that depraved.

  Or maybe he was.

  “But what does it do to your memories?” Testing new linking material was dangerous.