by Eliza Green
She answered the young man. ‘Our stomach acid breaks down food enough so our bodies can absorb its nutrients. The body then gets rid of what it doesn’t need. It’s likely the compound they’re giving us is small enough for the blood stream to absorb it. They use the same technique for stasis—it reduces body waste. The only thing you should be excreting right now is urine.’
Robbie shuddered. ‘If they can do that, why do we eat?’
‘Because it’s the one pleasure we humans still have,’ said Joel. ‘Never tasting food again—even replicator food? Almost as torturous as having to listen to you.’
The young man looked around him. ‘Are we the only ones awake right now?’
‘Yes, it would appear so,’ said Susan.
His eyes cut to her. ‘Who are you? Who’s that other person with you? Why are we restrained?’
‘Struggling won’t do you any good. My name is Susan Bouchard and that’s Joel Taylor to my right.’
Susan watched Robbie for a moment; this experience was probably more frightening for him than for her or Joel. They’d seen many things at the genetic testing facility in Toronto, where they’d both worked for the past three years. Their lab had recently commissioned genetic trials to better understand the limitations of the human genome. The trials targeted people like Annie Weber, who carried genetic abnormalities that normal nanoid treatments could not fix. While gene therapy had eliminated defects in human genetic code, seven per cent of the population still responded poorly to the treatment. Susan’s role had been to recruit and test volunteers to understand why; Joel was an analyst.
Susan also had the ability to get people to do what she wanted. If she could calm Annie Weber, she could console a frightened young man.
‘It’s going to be fine,’ she said. ‘You’ll only hurt yourself if you keep struggling.’
‘Okay.’
A few moments of silence passed and Robbie settled.
‘Shit, I just thought about a cup of tea and now that’s all I want,’ said Joel.
Despite the situation, Susan smiled. ‘Robbie, you seem a little young to be on the transfer list.’
‘Just what I thought,’ said Joel leaning forward. ‘Did your family transfer with you?’
Susan wondered the same thing. The transfer programme was supposed to move government employees, skilled workers and labourers first with their families, to help normalise the cities.
‘No, I transferred alone.’
‘So they’re already located on Exilon 5?’ she said.
‘No. They’re still on Earth. Why?’ Susan frowned. ‘Why does that matter?’
She didn’t answer him. To Joel she said, ‘That goes against the terms of the programme. Why the separation, do you think?’
‘I’ve no frigging clue,’ he said.
She looked around her. ‘This place looks like a stasis room, but a modified version of it. And this green tube’—she nodded down at her arm—‘isn’t necessary to keep people in suspended animation.’
‘Yeah, the same thing crossed my mind.’ Joel looked around. ‘Is it by accident or design that we’re awake?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t believe in coincidences.’
‘Where are we?’ said Robbie.
‘We don’t know exactly,’ said Susan.
‘Are we on the passenger ship?’
‘No.’
‘Are we in stasis?’
‘No. It’s a little too sterile for stasis.’
‘Exactly what I was thinking!’ said Joel. ‘So why the hell are we tied up like animals?’
Robbie sniffed. ‘When are we getting to the new planet?’
‘Oh God.’ Joel rolled his eyes. ‘Shut him up, please.’
‘He’s just a kid, and if it helps him to ask questions...’said Susan.
Joel grunted.
‘Stop talking about me like I’m not here,’ said Robbie. ‘Where are we?’
‘My guess is we aren’t going to Exilon 5,’ said Susan. ‘I reckon we’re still somewhere on Earth.’
‘But why are we here?’
She had no answer for him. ‘What did you do before you were called to transfer?’
‘I work... I mean, worked as a trainee in a food replication company.’
‘And your father?’
‘He works in an obsolete technology processing plant. Why?’
‘Doing what exactly?’
‘He’s an engineer.’
‘No, I mean, specifically?’
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘Building stuff, I guess.’
‘Is it high end stuff? Does he work with the garbage processing plants or does he build autobots? Help me out here.’
‘Eh, I don’t know.’
‘Try to think. Please.’
Robbie looked up in thought. ‘I think it’s all high end stuff, like military hardware, software.’
Susan let that sink in. ‘Okay.’
‘I can hear the wheels turning over there,’ said Joel. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘The work we do has to be linked somehow,’ she said. ‘The boy is quite intelligent’—Joel grunted—‘His father works in a high tech company. We appear to be important people with the same genetics.’
‘You think this has to do with genetics testing?’ said Joel. ‘But that’s our role.’
‘Yes, but our tests concentrate solely on people with genetic anomalies—that the government regard as misfits. You and me, and this young man here, don’t fall into that category.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘It can’t be a coincidence that we’ve been rounded up like sheep. A group of genetically similar people have been brought together—but for what purpose, Joel? I thought nothing of it when Deighton changed the transfer selection criteria. But now I can’t stop thinking about early twentieth-century human trials—a Nazi dictator and his doctor, Josef Mengele—except in this century, we use volunteers. We don’t test people against their will.’
‘Josef Mengele?’ said Robbie.
‘They nicknamed him the Angel of Death,’ Susan explained. ‘During World War II, Adolf Hitler ordered Mengele to create an Aryan master race of blonde-haired, blue-eyed people. The doctor fixated on pregnant women and twins, and brutally butchered both so he could identify the genetic code that produced twins.’
Joel snorted. ‘Yeah, he and Annie Weber would have made a lovely couple. I read reports that he’d practised medicine in Candido Godoi in Brazil, where there were unusually high twin birth rates. But the reports were later disproved.’
‘What does some doctor who died centuries ago have to do with us?’ said Robbie. ‘Are you saying we’re going to be butchered?’
Joel ignored him and looked at Susan. ‘Okay, say they’re genetically testing us, what are they testing for? Some particular trait?’
‘Intelligence must be a key marker for them,’ said Susan. ‘We know the new treatments have limited success in those with sub intelligence. After that, I’ve no idea.’
‘The kid here is very young,’ said Joel. ‘Not that intelligent, though’—Robbie cursed at him—‘Any thoughts?’
‘Lack of empathy? Maybe the differences between our adult brains and his juvenile brain interest them. He’s not quite an adult yet, despite his age. If it were me testing, I’d check for it—how genetic manipulation affects brain activity in adults with an active medial prefrontal cortex, as opposed to juveniles without one.’
‘Do you two work here, or something?’ said Robbie. ‘Is this some joke?’
She wished it were. ‘No. Joel and I are lab technicians, working for a subsidiary group of the World Government. We administer and monitor results in humans when new genetic code is added.’
Robbie swallowed, as though that terrified him more. ‘So what’s going to happen to us?’
This was new territory for Susan. ‘I have no idea.’
14
Two weeks had passed since Anton had arrived at Dr Caroline Finnegan�
��s facility and she had first spoken to him. His continued lack of cooperation frustrated her. She had tried everything to get the Indigene to open up; his mind was the key to understanding the evolution of the second-generation Indigenes. Even pretending to be his friend hadn’t worked.
The shock treatments she’d administered had kicked him out of his daze, but left alone he would disappear again. With Deighton calling once a day asking for an update, she had no time to babysit him. Failure risked her team being stranded on Earth. For Felicity, Julian, and hopefully her favourite gardener’s sake, she needed to crack Anton’s genetic code.
Her early use of programmed nanoids to add new genes to an animal’s DNA had caught Deighton’s eye. It had led to a job at the World Government. Now, the pressure of the job was getting to her. Deighton was being tyrannical, demanding results when her patient was being less than cooperative. The secrets of evolution lay with the second generation. She just didn’t know how to access them yet.
The Indigenes had been originally designed to live on Exilon 5’s harsh atmosphere. But the voluntary genetic testing programme had been too radical to attract volunteers. That’s when the World Government forced people into the programme, made the genetic modifications without their consent and wiped their memories of any previous existence. Caroline had disagreed with their methods of ‘recruitment’, but not many had listened, or cared.
She watched her team bustle about the laboratory in an almost chaotic fashion. Felicity flushed red when Julian thanked her for a tray of cultures she’d just handed to him. Caroline smiled at the interaction. Felicity, with her untidy black hair, and Julian, with his Scandinavian blond hair and good looks, weren’t exactly a perfect genetic match.
When another argument unfolded between Felicity and MOUSE, Caroline thought about dropping in on Anton again. She hated using shock treatment on him, but it was the only thing that got a reaction from him.
‘You’re a genetic scientist first, a moralist second, Caroline.’ It’s what her father had told her at the beginning of her career. She’d pursued science to improve life; that improvement involved some testing on unwilling subjects. Genetic treatments were in high demand. But those treatments didn’t happen without a few regrettable casualties.
Two things weighed on Caroline’s mind: Deighton’s demands that she succeed and the arrival of new test subjects who were being held in a secure room two floors below. She couldn’t keep them indefinitely.
Felicity and MOUSE continued their argument.
She’d heard enough. ‘Cut it out, you two. MOUSE, come with me.’
‘Gladly, Dr Finnegan,’ said MOUSE.
She grabbed a DPad from the centre island and slapped the doors open with her palm. The sentient program’s voice filled the corridor as it followed her. But Caroline heard little of what it said.
Without pausing, she entered the room where Anton was being held. She had lost her early fear of the entity. Deighton’s control over her future worried her more.
She scrolled through a selection of stories on the DPad about Earth’s most recent history and picked out one reporting the first changes to Earth’s atmosphere.
‘I want to show you something.’ She held the DPad up for Anton.
He turned his head in her direction, but didn’t look at her. ‘What do you want, Caroline?’
She wasn’t sure how she felt about Anton using her name. Too personal. Using the hologram feature, she projected one story in front of him.
Forecasters have reported stark changes to the atmosphere on Earth. Reports confirm that the ozone layer has depleted but the force field, recently activated around the Earth, holds steady. Sources say the deteriorating air quality is not bad enough to cause widespread panic. However, the World Government has ordered mandatory breathing masks to be put into worldwide production, effective immediately. Charles Deighton, CEO of the World Government, said: “While we admit the statistics do not look good, there is no reason for panic. We have everything under control.”
Caroline flicked to another story, many years later, which reported the discovery of Exilon 5. Deighton was quoted as claiming the discovery was a gift from God himself.
We are thrilled with this discovery and personally, I’m delighted with the tireless efforts of the government to secure a future for the people of Earth. It appears as if the planet will support human life. It will be our salvation.
Finally, she pulled up a report from a lead scientist on the creation of the first hybrid, dated well before the story on Exilon 5 broke. She watched Anton as he read it.
We are working on an Indigene prototype. The physical changes are still minor, and cognitively, it is not developing as fast as we’d hoped. I’m not sure if the additional genes work in the way we hoped they might. The genes appear to attach to the bottom of the DNA strands, but disengage a few days later. For this to work, the genes must fuse with both strands.
She lowered the DPad. To her disappointment, Anton didn’t react.
‘I want you to understand where you came from, why you’re here and how you can help us,’ she said. ‘We’re not trying to hurt you, only to utilise your knowledge to create a better future for humans. What I’m about to show you is a picture of old Earth, as seen from space.’
She flicked to a blue and white image of the planet and pulled it out of the DPad. The 3D hologram rotated in the air.
Anton looked at the projected image.
‘And this is Earth as it is now.’ She swiped left on the DPad; the image changed to a grey, dead lump of rock.
Caroline waited for a response, but the Indigene’s expression didn’t flicker. She kept going; something was bound to resonate with him. She selected different pieces of footage showing the loss of entire ecosystems, overcrowding, and Earth’s general demise. She finished with footage of Exilon 5 showing the biodomes where the animals lived, and new technology that eliminated the need for fossil fuels.
‘We’ve changed,’ she said. ‘With your help we can turn Exilon 5 into a better Earth.’
Anton looked lazily at her. ‘What does this have to do with me?’
‘Your planet—the one we gave you—is healthy. Ours is past saving. Our species must transfer to Exilon 5, but also avoid the mistakes of the past. We need to know how you’ve survived in a much-changed atmosphere. Has the planet altered your physiology? How advanced is your brain? We can be of benefit to each other.’
‘You tried to eradicate us with your explosions,’ Anton spat out. ‘How does that benefit me?’
‘We know our two species didn’t meet under the best of circumstances, but some members of our society are hot-headed. There are others, like my team and I, who wish to change things for the better, with minimal interference. That’s where you come into it.’
Her plan to get Anton talking was working. This was the most engaged he’d been since she’d first spoken to him. She hoped MOUSE was monitoring Anton’s vitals and recording brain activity.
Anton clenched his hands. ‘Our race has nothing to do with yours. We are not the solution to your problems.’
Caroline half smiled. ‘I know Deighton has told you about your origins: the first generation of Indigenes came from humans and here you are, a second generation with remarkable abilities. Allow us to learn from you so we may avoid the mistakes of Earth.’
Anton stared at her. ‘What are you talking about? We didn’t come from you.’
‘We’re wasting precious time, Anton.’ Caroline sighed. She had no idea what Deighton had told him. ‘What I’ve told you is the truth.’
A restrained Anton propped himself up on his elbow. ‘How is that even possible? I can see your brainwaves. They differ to ours. I was one of the few ready to accept your presence on Exilon 5, but your barbarism and brutality have changed my mind. I now understand why so many of my kind barely tolerate you.’
‘Explain to me the differences you see.’ Caroline drew closer to him. ‘Tell me how you’re able to see and process
that information.’
Anton lay back down and focused on the ceiling. ‘I assume your plan is to kill me. Make it quick.’
‘I promise not to hurt you. Just tell me what I want to know. After we’re finished here, you’ll go home.’
The Indigene laughed once. ‘Liar.’
Caroline stepped back from the table. Another round of electroshock might loosen his tongue. ‘I know you have little reason to trust me. I was not the one to conduct countless experiments on you over the last few months.’
He slid his gaze to her. ‘Yet you have no problem shocking me.’
The look in his eyes fuelled her feelings of guilt. She shook it off. ‘The fate of our people—the same people your first generation once came from—rests in your hands. Please say you’ll help.’
Anton focused on the ceiling once more.
MOUSE interrupted. ‘Dr Finnegan, may I speak to you privately?’
‘Not now, MOUSE. I’m in the middle of something.’
‘I assure you, it’s quite urgent.’
Caroline watched the Indigene for a moment. His lips were pinched and he was refusing to look at her. She huffed and left the room.
Outside, she slumped against the wall. ‘This had better be important.’
‘He doesn’t trust you, but as soon as you mentioned Exilon 5, his serotonin levels spiked.’
She straightened up. ‘Does he believe anything else I’ve told him?’
‘No.’ That only confirmed what Caroline already suspected. ‘He has no loyalty to humans. He thinks you’re lying.’
How could she make Anton understand?
She shoved her hands into her pockets with a sigh. ‘He has to know how important he is. Given human history, in five hundred years we’ll be looking for a new planet all over again. We’re at the peak of our evolution, but crucially, they’re not. Something else has altered their design to make them superior to us. I have to know what triggered that change and how we can replicate it.’
‘Perhaps you should tell him that? You might find him more cooperative.’
