by Mikael Aizen
A few million DPRK throats screamed in horror.
Hunter pulled a gun, and started shooting everyone. Immortal Leader's generals fell like flies. One of Jay's guards rushed Hunter, the guard died just as quickly. The sledgehammer giant turned toward Jay, clearly intent on smashing Jay's skull into bits. Just as the hammer lifted, Jay rolled backwards. The huge man went over Jay's head, right into the gap in the wall that Immortal Leader had left.
He hit the bars running through the wall and an electrical zapping sound and a shaking scream lasted a fraction of a second before the smell of overcooked flesh and smoke took its place. The hammer fell to the side and the blackened corpse fell from the hole right onto Jay.
Jay shoved at the hot flesh, failed. He crawled on an elbow and two knees, trying to get out from under the weight. He didn't have the energy to pull the stake out. Didn't have anything, anymore. Jay collapsed, spent. He saw that he'd maybe made a foot from under the burnt corpse.
When he looked up again, Hunter was standing over him with his gun aimed at Jay's head. Again. The five generals lay in a circle around them.
"Just get it over with," Jay said. "I'm tired of this view." He didn't even have the strength to say it louder than a gurgling whisper. It'd be quick this way, at least. He let his head fall back and roll to the side.
He saw Chris, the upper third of him, laying in the dirt. The ribs that were left poked out like spikes of a blowfish and his eyes were blinking. Slowly. Once. Twice. He looked at Jay, and a small smile appeared. And then he didn't blink again.
Jay looked back up at his executioner, into the barrel of Hunter's gun. It was like an endless, dark tunnel that called to him. Bade him enter. Offered rest.
He missed Kyle. Goodbye, son.
"Don't kill him." Karah's voice.
"Get out of the way."
"No. I won't."
A sigh. "Move, or I'll shoot you too, darling. I love you, but not that much."
A new voice. Jinn? "But you won't shoot me. You need me, don't you? That's why you didn't shoot me when you shot everyone else. If you want to lead the remaining DPRK, you'll need me to translate."
Hunter's voice mused with a touch of exasperation. "What god made this man so lucky?" There was a click. "All right, you two win. But I suggest you pick him up and get the fuck out of here before I send the missile over."
"When?"
"Now."
Jay felt his armpits and his legs lifted. Something knocked against Jay's foot. He forced his eyes open. Jinn was wearing a gun. And Karah... "Karah," Jay groaned.
Hunter was walking away from them, toward the--his--soldiers. Karah's eyes were frozen on Jinn's gun.
"Karah, don't..." Jay mumbled. It seemed like only she heard him, because Jinn was still looking the other way and Karah's hand started to shake.
Jay could hear the millions of mourning voices, the same sound his heart was making.
Karah's hair suddenly tickled his face, she whispered harshly in his ear. "I'm going to do it. He, of all of us, should die. So I'm going to kill the bastard now, Jay. No more watching the world die around me."
"Not worth...it." Jay sighed.
"Worth it," she whispered back.
"I forgive you," he said.
She stared at him.
"My bell, you can...have it. No more...killing."
She lifted something in front of Jay with a finger. His bells. "Thank you, Jay." She squeezed the bell between her two palms, crushing it. "But it's my turn to act."
Jinn briefly glanced at them.
He'd murdered, he'd killed, he'd made excuses. By anyone else's book he was a murderer. But if he could choose, right now, he wouldn't be a murdered. Bells or no bells, right now and for the rest of his life he wasn't a murderer. That was his fucking choice now.
Karah, who'd never killed anyone, was making the wrong choice. She'd been in the right the whole time, not him.
She kissed him and sighed. "You've inspired me, Jay. All this time you did what was necessary. Fighting to save as many as you could."
NO. But Jay couldn't say anything. He didn't have the strength. Jay closed his eyes.
"Jinn. Help me hold him for a second," Karah's voice said.
"What's wrong?"
"He's too heavy. Come here."
Jay's legs were lowered to the ground. He felt his body dropped. His head hit something and he heard shouts.
Three gunshots in quick succession. Then a fourth.
Jay struggled to crack opened an eye.
When he did, he saw Karah crawling across the ground toward him. Guts and blood spilling from her stomach. She was smiling. Behind her was Hunter's body, blown open from the back. A gun in his dead hand. Karah's limbs gave out and she collapsed right beside him. She told him she'd done it, murdered Hunter like it was a good thing.
And then she wept a single tear that was enough to mean everything.
And then. She closed her eyes.
Jay lifted his head, the hardest thing he'd ever done, and kissed her tear away.
Jinn found the missile.
It was Jinn who found a way to blow the thing up, taking out half the DPRK army at the same time. It was Jinn who ended it all.
It was Jinn who saved the world.
Chapter 32
Murder is in the blood.
Like all genetic expression: hair color, eye color, and homosexuality, those with The Code are predestined to kill. Their bloodlust is not by choice. For many it is a matter of time before they give in to their natures while others relish their identities, thriving in the freedom that our world gives them.
They did not choose this path. Some are your friends and family. I know this and I grieve with you, but The Code will express itself--science has proven it.
We've no choice but to treat The Code as an illness without a cure, unrestrained since the times of Cain and Abel. The Code has limited itself thus far, throttling its own propagation in wars and conflict. But we can control this disease before it roots deeper into our genetic code. Sterilization, drugs, and other interventions have failed us. The murders continue. We must quarantine The Code completely and let it destroy itself for a lasting solution. This is our mission as a civilized race.
Though painful to consider, I urge you to think of the lives that may be saved.
Our world can be one without conflict, where death happens by nature and not by intention. How many people, how much untapped potential, how much heartbreak have we felt because of those carrying The Code? We can change this. Hitler and Stalin and Mao will never again exist in our world.
Our step is a giant step for all people across all nations. It is our next step in evolution. We unify across cultures and languages, across boundaries once and long unforgeable. For humanity's future. There is an answer to world peace:
Self-Genocide.
-Manuel L. Rafelee, President of the 122nd Session United Nations General Assembly, August 2065, Conference of the Mayors for Peace
Kyle was in a courtroom with a bunch of cameras all around him, handcuffs on his wrists. Clearscreens all around broadcasted the speakers. Kyle, the attorneys, the judge. And Andre Mollinda. "...continue, please," Mr. Mel said.
Kyle cleared his throat, looking at his own image. Studying it, seeing the cold killer that he was.
He tried to find words to explain what had happened to him right after he'd been kidnapped. After he'd been thrown in the truck that was really cold. After they taken him into a room and injected him with the epigenetically accelerating stuff. "It started as a game, with points," Kyle said. "They had a computer game where I could fight and hit other boys controlling their characters."
Mel nodded like he knew what Kyle was talking about.
"Except if I lost, I would be punished. People in white suits would come in and beat me in the places that I'd been hit in the game. They gave me food and water if I won, none if I lost. After a while, I don't know how long, they brought in real boys. Boys that I was supposed to hit
in certain places, an arm or leg at first, to get food. But this time, if I didn't hit them, or hit them too softly, they'd hurt the other boy. They'd cut off the other boy's toe or finger if I didn't."
The man asking him questions gave Kyle a disgusted look. A lot of the people in the courtroom had the same look on their faces. He stopped talking, but Mr. Mel waved at Kyle. "Continue, please."
"I didn't want them to hurt the other boys, so I'd hit them. But it got worse and worse, and then I was the one cutting off fingers and toes and hands. If I didn't, the people in the white suits would come in and kill the other boys. Each time I did what they made me do, I got food. Just a bite of bread and sometimes a sip of water."
"The other boys were from the government funded genetic exploratory research live tissue bank?"
"I think. I didn't know that at the time. All I knew was that they were other boys."
"That's horrible," Mr. Mel said. "This is exactly why this kind of research must stop."
Another man, one with a mustache--Kyle didn't know his name--raised his hand. "Objection. That comment has nothing to do with the current case."
The judge sitting in a big chair and wearing a black robe nodded. "Please keep to the debate, Counsel."
Mr. Mel nodded. "Yes, Your Honor. I'm sorry I interrupted. Please continue, Kyle."
"At some point, they brought back some of the kids, kids that had been cut up really bad. Most didn't have eyes by now, or tongues, or anything except the middle part of their bodies and their heads." A woman in the background got up and left, but before she opened the door, Kyle saw her bend over and throw up. Probably because of her, several other people got up and left the room. Kyle kept talking. "They told me that I had to be merciful and kill the boys because they were in a lot of pain, and it was only right for me to finish the job, since I'd been the one to hurt them in the first place."
"My God..." Mr. Mel looked pale. He swallowed. "Then what? What did you do? Remember, this is your testimony and you are being broadcasted across the world. Your answers will be used for or against your case." They broadcasted trials now because hackers had gotten so good that they didn't bother hiding trials anymore.
Kyle shrugged. "I killed the other boys." There was a groan across the audience.
The mustache man had his hand raised again. "Objection. He killed experimental tissue, not other boys." He said it, but his face was just as pale as Mr. Mel's.
The judge spoke. "You can't object a testimony, Counsel."
Mustache man swallowed, clearly shaken. "Yes, your honor. My apologies."
"After I killed the other boys," Kyle said, "because they were suffering so much, they gave me a bite of meat. Like I was being rewarded for killing." Kyle paused and looked down. "I'm small, but I'm not dumb. I knew what they were trying to do. But I couldn't help it, I thought I didn't have a choice. So I ate the meat because I needed the energy."
"The energy for what?" Mr. Mel asked.
"After I killed a few of the other boys," Kyle emphasized the last word. "They put me in a jungle where I had to fight almost constantly. The other boys did, too. They never let any of us sleep, not unless we wanted to starve and die."
"A jungle?" Mel asked.
"Except that it wasn't a real jungle. It was a fake jungle. Anyway," Kyle continued. "I did this for a long time, fighting and getting food when I won. I always won because I was faster and stronger than the other kids. Probably because of the injection they gave me. Every once in a while, I would kill a boy because it was nicer to just kill the other boy than to let them suffer. When you're hungry for long enough, your stomach starts to eat itself, and it really really hurts, and then they can't win any more fights. It's easier to just kill them."
"You'd get meat if you killed one of these?"
Kyle nodded. "Yes, but that's not why I killed them."
"What happened next?"
"One day they made me kill someone I knew. One of the boys who had kidnapped me. I found out later that his name was Marke. I didn't want to kill him, so I waited for days until I almost starved. I'd hurt Marke enough to win, like I usually did, but they wouldn't let me out this time. Marke wasn't starving, he was new, not like the other boys. So he would survive longer than me without food." Kyle stopped talking.
"Then what?" Mr. Mel asked.
"...I killed him. He was the first one that...he was the first I killed to survive and not because of mercy. Even if he was in a lot of pain, I had to kill him to survive. There wasn't any choice."
Another woman sitting in the benches stood up and stared at Kyle, her mouth and jaw was shaking and she pointed. Her hand hovered at him for a few seconds and then it shifted to his right where Kyle knew Andre was sitting. He hadn't looked at Andre yet, he refused to. Not yet. "Murderer!" she screamed at Andre. "That was my son! My SON! Our boys were friends, WE were friends! How could you do this? You monster! It was a 'internship!'" Some men came to the woman, pulling her from the room.
Kyle heard Andre's bitter and cold reply. "That's the price of science, dear Cecea."
The courtroom got really loud. Everyone was standing and yelling and even though the judge's image pounded a wooden hammer over and over and he yelled for "order" over and over, it did no good.
"I'm not done yet," Kyle said.
Just like that, things got quiet again.
"Mr. Mel," Kyle paused. Weighing things. Hating it all. He'd thought about it and realized the problem with his revenge. "I deserve to die, I'm a murderer," he finally said.
If he wasn't guilty, Murder City would continue.
If he was guilty, Andre had won and proven his science.
But Pa was still in Murderer City. Kyle had to admit that he was guilty and then he had to convince everyone he was guilty.
"Everyone who died, except for Mom...I chose to kill. El, Ryant and Jess. I wanted to kill them."
"Why, Kyle?" Mr. Mel whispered. He would defend Kyle, but Kyle didn't want to be defended. He'd made his choice and he deserved his punishment.
"I killed them for revenge. Because I was angry. Ryant and Jess I murdered so that I could HURT Andre Mollinda. I'm AM a murderer."
"No, you aren't," Mr. Mel said, turning to the judge. "Not until we rule you are."
"You can't stop your witness from admitting to the crime," mustache man said.
"He just doesn't understand how he was manipulated, he's just a kid." Mr. Mel held up a plaintive hand. "He was manipulated and virtually forced to kill--"
"I wasn't! Stop trying to lie for me," Kyle said. He got angry. And it was true. It wasn't right for him to continue living without punishment when he'd killed other people on purpose. So many people died because of him. He should and needed to be punished.
"I have evidence that shows the contrary," Mr. Mel said. "Dr. Andre Mollinda's research clearly shows that Kyle, a boy without The Code, murdered within the bounds of his manipulative experiments. Kyle was made to murder and thus, he isn't a murderer but a tool."
Mr. Mel didn't understand what he was doing. "I wasn't manipulated," Kyle changed his wording, because it mattered. "Doctor Andre made me kill the experimental tissues but not the others. I chose to do that myself." Kyle paused. Here was when he had to admit the thing that he loathed. That Andre's experiments had worked to save all those in Murderer City. "Doctor Andre proved that a person without The Code is capable of murder. He proved that if I can be an exception, than so can others."
"What's your point?" Mel asked. He turned away like Kyle was stupid and like what Kyle had just said meant nothing. He wanted to scream at Mr. Mel. Andre had proven that The Code was wrong and that meant that people in Murderer City shouldn't be there because the opposite might be just as true. Pa should be let go. If he was still alive.
Mr. Mel was not helping.
Andre's voice suddenly spat out. He was nearly chortling in his success. Kyle didn't look but he knew that Andre would be beaming at him. "Isn't it clear? My son is saying that I've PROVEN that a boy, a chil
d is capable of killing under the right circumstances. I've proven that our system is flawed and I've proven that a boy without The Code is just as capable of killing as anyone with The Code. If there is a single exception, then there must be an exception to those with The Code. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? What about the innocents in Murderer City like my wife and Kyle's birth father?" There was energy in his voice as he spoke about his experiment. Andre was getting excited about his science again.
Kyle didn't want that.
He wanted Andre to suffer. But if he argued, he might hurt Pa, and those in Murderer City, too.
He had to let this happen.
"DAD is right," Kyle said. "I am a murderer, I killed three of his children without any help."
There was an abrupt silence, and then, "Yes, Kyle. You did indeed."
The man with the mustache lifted a finger. "One second, Dr. Andre." He held up a sheet of paper. "I have evidence here that Kyle has The Code."
Andre began laughing. A loud, crazy laugh.
"Oh really?" Andre said.
"Really," Mustache man confirmed. "Confirmed by the US government, officially and observed and recorded. Kyle's always had The Code."
Andre laughed some more. "I want everyone to pay close attention!" he bellowed. "The first time they tested Kyle, they found him innocent of The Code. I tested Kyle myself, and he didn't have The Code. My data proves it..."
"Your data was incorrect," mustache man said.
"No. It wasn't. I tested it several times, and confirmed it."
"The data found on your computer shows corruption that puts into question Kyle's genetics."
Andre kept on laughing. Kyle heard the sound of wood being slapped over and over again. "I didn't think you'd try this hard to hide it," he said. "I've backed up the unaltered information onto the secure servers of..."
"We aren't hiding anything, doctor. This is only the truth and the data. You're 'backups' are nowhere to be found. The NSSA has no record of your data."
