Murder Genes

by Mikael Aizen

  Jay could see the traces of milky white running through the prism. He stared again helplessly at the town of Esperanza that had emerged in front of them. A whole town built with blocks of Crystal Onyx. Clear walls and sharp angles made the city glisten with color-split sunlight.

  And people were everywhere, rather, their images were everywhere. No matter where you stood the image could come up to the front within the huge Crystal walls of the city. Each wall collected the image of everything and put it in front of your eyes. And even from where he stood, Jay could see the smiles on their faces. It was incredible, and a bit mythical. Xiaos seemed pleased at his expression.

  "What does Essperanza mean?" Jay asked. His Spanish went only as far as "Si" and "No" and "Baño." Morir too, now. He looked at the Asian man who'd named a city in Spanish.

  "Hope," Xiaos answered. "It may sound odd, but Crystal Onyx symbolizes everything that we left behind. We understood that with Crystal Onyx, we could recreate--even in Morir--the world that we had left." Xiaos held his hand out and waved across the tiny town. "You cannot see 'straight' in Esperanza, but instead you see everyone around you, and yourself from many perspectives. Full transparency and full reflection," Xiaos said.

  He walked to a building, built from large Crystals. "The Onyx splits what you perceive into a hundred pieces, to see even more clearly. While it blurs lines, it has definite and precise barriers." Xiaos slapped the crystal with almost spiritual reverence. It hummed a deep, barely audible tone. Xiaos brought his head close to the Onyx and closed his eyes.

  For once, Xiaos didn't seem odd. Jay felt like he understood the peace the Onyx represented. It really did feel like he'd walked into an ancient, spiritual world. He saw wells, and gardens, people working together with primitive cranes to construct other Crystal Onyx homes while children played and their parents relaxed under the sun. They'd built a paradise within Morir. He couldn't even swear to himself, it was too incredible. "Fuck," Jay swore to Xiaos.

  "Yeah. Fuck..." Xiaos said back. It sounded like he'd never said the word before. Jay would've laughed except that before the sight of Esperanza, it was impossible to feel anything but awe.

  "Yeah fuck!" a voice piped. It was Ti.

  Xiaos frowned disapprovingly. "I'd like you to meet someone, Jay." He knelt and spoke to the twins. "Take our friend to Issak. Afterward, we'll take off those bells."

  When Xiaos mentioned it, Jay touched the bells hanging off his face. Strangely, right now, he didn't want to take them off. They represented something to him, the single crushed bell for Paul's life. Jay didn't know what exactly it meant to him, but he knew he didn't want to take the bells off right now. "I'd likke to keep them," Jay said.

  Xiaos paused. "After, we'll speak." He turned to leave.

  The twins grabbed Jay by either hand and began dragging him toward Esperanza. Jay looked behind and saw Xiaos Wayng, like James Bond, walking with big strides toward a building made from stacked stones. Not COMPLETELY transparent, then.

  Evo suddenly stood right in front of Jay, his arms crossed. "Tell us."

  "Tel you what?"

  "Tell us what you meant, 'be like a duck.' We don't get it."

  Jay laughed, the first genuine laugh in a long time. "You'll havve to think about it. But I'l give you a clue."

  Both visibly leaned forward.

  "It's something wit' what you see versuss what really is."

  Evo cradled his chin between the web of his thumb and finger while Ti simply gaped. The rest of the walk was silent, both twins brooding with serious knots between their brows. Jay remembered the first time he'd asked Kyle the same question. Kyle had bugged him for weeks before he caved in and told his son. Kyle had given Jay a thoughtful expression and it became a ritual between them, something they always said to each other.

  They approached a Crystal Onyx building that through the prism, Jay could see what looked to be a lab. It had jars and vials and contraptions that he didn't and never cared to know names for.

  "I know the answer," Evo suddenly said.

  "What issit?" Jay asked, surprised at the boy's confidence.

  This time, Evo gave him the secret look. "I'll tell you when you get out. Oh," Evo said, "Issak likes compliments." The twins crossed their arms and turned their backs to him. Ti copied his brother though he obviously continued to brood over the riddle.

  Jay shrugged, limping into the building, slowly with his hands trailing the side of the Onyx. Once he was close, he became disoriented by all the split images. He imagined it was possible to get lost in a straight hallway, here. He wondered if the people here came to be used to the constant shifting and distorting images. Jay stepped wrong and his leg complained as he stumbled. The jingle of bells by his neck clung loudly, differently, sharper and more apparent in the Onyx hall. He caught himself flat against a wall, and within the Onyx he saw one of several of his reflections. Seven bells, one crushed.

  It was strange how it hit him. There was a calm and then just as suddenly there was a choked up vacuum. He'd killed a man. Accident or not, he was still responsible. Jay assumed he'd felt nothing because he hadn't time to rest and consider what he'd done. That because he'd been running for his life, his mind hadn't time to face what had happened.

  It did now. And he'd assumed right.

  Pain. Not guilt or sorrow, but emotional pain. A real agony worse than being shot through the teeth. He'd killed a man in cold blood. And now, "I had to" didn't matter any more. Jay knew that he wasn't invisible or in private here, but right this moment, he needed to be alone. He fell to a seat and crossed his legs. To mourn.

  "Hey hey hey! What's going on?" A nervous voice jabbered.

  Again, God, what gives? Jay didn't lift his head right away. Instead, he sighed and said under his breath. "Leav me alon', will you?"

  "Yeah, gotcha boss. But... you're kinda in my way."

  Jay looked up. There was a skinny man carrying a very bulky...bazooka? Jay fell backward, his legs and arms out like a dead bug.

  The man dropped the bazooka, Jay dodged and it barely missed his head. Jay yelled. Clambering to his feet.

  The skinny man twitched and scratched the back of his head. "Sorry," he said.

  "You mustt be Issak," Jay said.

  The man wiped his hands on his jacket, leaving damp lines streaked on the material. "Yes, yes I am. Who are you?"

  "Jay." He held out his hand. Issak looked at the hand for a second and as if making a spontaneous decision, shook it. It was still damp. "What'ss that?" Jay asked. Maybe it wasn't a bazooka, maybe it just looked like one. After all, who would carry around a bazooka and drop it?

  Issak gave him a strange look.

  It IS a bazooka.

  Issak waved at the thing. "Would you mind helping me? I'm taking it to the lab."

  Jay bent to pick up one side.

  "Thanks!" Issak said, leading the way.

  Jay picked up the rest of the bazooka by himself. Karah's sewing had done well for his leg. Even shaky and achy, he could feel the strength returning. He followed the man. It was heavy, but not nearly as heavy as he would have suspected.

  They walking into a lab, the room that Jay had seen earlier from outside. It was a small room with a few pieces of furniture. Picnic table, lounge chair, pool table. Beakers and glassware sat on the pool table, most with powders and mineral-like sand in them.

  "Put it on the table," Issak said.

  Jay looked at the table, there wasn't space.

  "On the table!"

  Jay dropped the bazooka on the table. Glassware broke, sand spilled, it was a mess.

  Issak turned on him. And smiled. "My name's Issak. I'm a physicist, chemist, tech guru, psychologist, explosive engineer, and general smart-guy."

  Jay looked at the heap on the table. Explosive engineer was the scary one. "Hi," Jay said.

  Issak looked disappointed. He put his back to Jay. "What do you want?"

  "I don' know."

  "Really? REALLY? You're wasting my time because
...you don't know why?" Issak whipped his palm at the table. "You come in here and break all my stuff and interrupt my experiments, havoc and chaos, and you don't know why! God save me! At least respect a genius' time."

  "You mus't really smart," Jay said in monotone.

  Issak brightened. "Yeah I am. Thanks for noticing. Now, how can I help you?"

  "I don' know," Jay repeated. The man was a quack. Heavy metal poisoning or something.

  "Oh, that's OK. Let's find out." Issak rubbed his hands together. "First, who sent you?"

  "Xiaos."

  "General Xiaos Wayng?"

  "...Yeah. Genneral Xiaos."

  "Hmmm. You must be new then?"

  "Yeaah." Isn't it obvious?

  Issak snapped his fingers in success. "I knew it! He must want me to teach you."

  "Teech me?"

  "Educate you, lecture and enlighten. I do it all the time." Issak took his arm and swept the pool table. He pushed the broken glass and sand into the pocket holes and grunted as he pushed the bazooka straight onto the floor. It hit hard and Jay winced. Dear God he hoped it wasn't loaded. "Let's get started. Sit." Issak pointed at Jay.

  Jay walked over to the lounge chair and sat. He leaned back. Issak stopped pointing at him when he did.

  "From the beginning, then," Issak said. "The Code is a big lie."

  Jay sat up.

  "In fact, it's so much a lie, that it's true. Sort of. There is a gene they've found and named, but they named it wrong. The Murder Gene, should be named the 'Instinct Gene'. And everyone has it. Everyone. Except they've tagged one expression of it rather than the other expression. In other words, because everyone has it, you can't actually breed it out or 'Genocide' it out."

  God fucking damn. Jay raised his hand.

  Issak gave him an annoyed look and kept talking. "In Morir you get four types of sub expression: Murderers, Thrillers, Survivors and Protectors. Within the sub expressions are sub-sub expressions. There are very few people with only the sub expression. The authorities are right, we don't have choice, but they are wrong because the gene they've tagged is not the Murder Gene. You might be a Survivor type by your looks." He raised an eyebrow at Jay's numerous wounds. "So you kill if you're threatened. General Xiaos is a Protector type. He has no choice but to protect other people just as you have no choice but to survive."

  "What aboutt the Murderer sub expresssion-type-thinng?"

  "What about them? They kill. It makes them happy."

  "You said there are veryy few pure sub expresssionss. I could be a Murdererr Survivor." Killing to survive. It'd make sense.

  "If when you are threatened, when you have overwhelming stimulus, you perform better, faster and sharper?"

  "Yeah.” That's why pain didn't stop him?

  "Why are you interrupting me?" Issak said suddenly.

  You're telling me my instinct is to kill to survive and no matter what I have no choice. Just like before when they told me I have The Code. I don't have any more choice than I do now. "Just keep going," Jay said.

  "The combinations of the four types makes things confusing. For example, a Protector Thrill type would protect someone only because of the feeling it gives them to live on the edge. When they protect someone, behaviorally, they'd wait until the last moment in order to increase the risk and excitement. For them, it's not as much about protection as the excitement of protecting someone. Thrill."

  "How doo you know all thiss?"

  "I'm a geneticist. And I'm a genius."

  You didn't say you were a geneticist the first time. "I'm impresssed," Jay said dryly. As crazy as the man was, his theory made sense. Karah who'd sewn him up was a Survivor then. And Bitch, that boy who liked being chased, would be a Thrill type. "So, iff all the kilers and fihgters are in here, and after the Gene War..."

  "Exactly," Issak snapped his fingers. "Where's our military? Who's defending us?" He grinned. "Haven't you ever wondered why they built Morir so large?"

  Jay opened his mouth.

  Issak waved a hand. "Moving on. My theories are my own."

  "Bu..."

  "Moving on," Issak said again. "Next question."

  "Howw about you? What aare you? Your subtype."

  "Me?" Issak put a thumb to his chest. "None. The government put me in here because of my theories. They were scared of me."

  "So you don't have The Code."

  "Nope. It's easy to fake. Remember, everyone's positive, just to what extent and which degree. It changes depending on what concentration of the solvent you use. If things don't go their way, they'll up the 'sensitivity' by increasing the concentration."

  Whoa. "Whoo is 'they?'" It sounded like the government, or the UN. But who did Issak think had caused all this?

  "The Church of course."

  "The Chuurch," Jay repeated.

  "Yes."

  "Kay."

  Issak grinned. "Any questions?"

  "Plenty."

  Issak frowned. He looked at a make-believe watch. "Look! We're out of time. Get out." Issak knocked on a wall, the Onyx hummed and he pointed at Jay as if to someone watching. Half a minute later, the twins came in.

  "The duck looks very calm on the surface, but he's kicking under the water. That's the answer," Evo said immediately.

  "That's correct," Jay responded, taken aback.

  Evo grinned and Ti grimaced, glaring at his brother. "C'mon, let's go," Evo said, leading the way.

  Jay watched the two interact. He felt as if he saw the world differently, with a clarity he'd never had. And not only in Morir. How many types of people were there? How much of it was coded and how much of it was choice? How deep did the rabbit hole go?

  Chapter 11

  During the sentencing phase of the capital trial of Westin vs Stewart, 229 F. 3d 180 (9th Cir. 2040), the Prosecution argued that the attempted murder of four-year old Allice Carmikle should result in a sentence against Westin as if the attack had been successful. The Prosecution stated that with the predispositions associated with The Code within Westin's DNA, the preemptive punishment of an attempted murderer to the full extent of the law would prevent another attempt and thus potentially save a future victim's life.

  The Prosecution was struck down.

  Within a year, the Defendant escaped and a massive manhunt was launched. Five other lives were taken before his recapture.

  -Clemmence, Dan. "Criminal Prevention Laws. The Birth of New Justice." The New York Law Journal. Vol 92, No. 1, pp 18-24, 2018.

  The school bell rang and students trickled in. No one was taking a seat and Kyle felt uncomfortable sitting alone. But he kept watching the door. A few more students entered, some girls glanced at him and giggled. He waved but they turned their backs.

  The teacher walked in and locked the door behind her.

  Callie wasn't in this class then. Kyle sighed. He knew the chances were small that she'd be in his same class, but he couldn't help but hope. Especially since he was in the lower grade than he should be. Del had said he'd fallen behind and needed to be in the younger kids class. For all Kyle knew, Callie didn't even go to this school even though it was the only school in the area. Maybe she was home schooled. Maybe she went to a girl school somewhere else.

  The teacher rapped the board with her chubby knuckles. It made dull knocks instead of sharp raps. "All right class. Sit down." The kids mumbled and shuffled, it took maybe two minutes for them to sit. The teacher didn't seem to mind. She looked bored and just as uninterested in starting the class as the students.

  "Did you all read last week's assignment?"

  Some students nodded. Most didn't.

  The fat teacher slowly sat in her big, black leather chair. She toed a metal stool out from under her desk and used it to prop her feet, lounging back. "Show me your tablets."

  The kids raised rectangular picture frame pads as the teacher pointed a laser at the tablets one by one. When she did, the glass pane center glowed green on some and red on others. When they glowed red, the teacher tap
ped on the clearboard behind her, leaving a sloppy glowing red dot behind each time she tapped. Kyle hadn't been anything but home-schooled by his dad, and he'd never seen clearboards used in a class before. Pretty cool. He'd seen a lot of things in the city that used lots of technology, not like where he used to live.

  The teacher's laser hovered on Kyle's chest. "Where's yours?"

  "I don't have one," Kyle said.

  There was a unified groan from the kids around him. "Why not?" she asked.

  "I'm new. It's my first day."

  "And you forgot to bring your tablet." She gave him a dim, corner of the eye look.

  "I don't even have one."

  "I'm sure you don't. OK, class," she clapped her hands, "extra physical education today." Another groan from the other kids. Kyle didn't understand, it seemed like physical education would be more fun than sitting. Then again, most the kids were fatter than him. Maybe it was hard to move with that extra weight on them. Kyle was lucky to be skinnier, he'd always been able to run faster than most.

  Someone threw something wet into the back of Kyle's shirt. There was giggling, but he forced himself not to look back and ignore the other kids. He shook his shirt and felt the wet roll down and off his back.

  Del had warned him to be good. She'd knelt down and looked him in the eye and asked him to be on his best behavior. He'd promised. It wouldn't be good for her to keep worrying about him. He'd put her through enough with the accident he'd caused. Plus, with this being a school, Kyle was sure there would be a library where he could find out more information about Murderer City.

  The teacher was talking again. She clicked a button on a remote control and the clearscreen began playing a video with images that came out of the screen like they were in front of Kyle. The screen spoke about blobs carrying other blobs to places where they could copy themselves and become little humans inside a dish. It hadn't been nearly as cool on Kyle's computer back home. The video talked about how certain parts of the blobs--DNA--could decide what made a person like they were. From the size of their hands to what they'd best be in their future. The teacher paused the screen and said that her genes and her resulting 'epigenes' made her a good teacher. She seemed proud of this. Someone snorted in the back and more giggling erupted. The video went on for a while, explaining how a guy named C.H. Wadd-something and another guy John Fuller got together and studied a bunch of stuff that made the discovery of The Code possible. Kyle yawned.