The Individuality Gene

by G Sauvé

  “That’s so cool,” I mutter.

  “Did you say something?” asks Frost from up ahead.

  “Nothing important.”

  We progress in silence for a while before Frost embraces her role as tour guide.

  “Did you know we recently celebrated our five hundredth birthday?”

  “You’re five hundred years old?” I ask.

  Frost chuckles.

  “Not me, silly. The Colony.”

  “The Colony? What’s that?”

  “It’s the only remaining human settlement on the face of the Earth.”

  I think back to what Hermit told us. He claimed the Colony was only one of many human societies. Could he have been wrong? Or maybe it’s Frost who’s mistaken. All I know is there are tens of thousands of humans living in squalor and misery. Whether or not the Colony is all that remains of humanity’s free individuals is irrelevant. Still, convincing them to help will be difficult if they believe themselves to be the only remaining survivors.

  We progress in silence until we reach the top of the staircase. By then, I’m out of breath and sweating profusely. Unlike me, my companions are fresh and energetic. I suspect Frost is accustomed to such climbs, but what’s Kara’s excuse? Then again, I’ve seen her accomplish far greater feats without breaking a sweat. Why am I surprised?

  Frost leads us along a narrow, windowless tunnel. I can’t help picturing Jonn trying to squeeze his massive frame into such a slender passage. The thought brings a smile to my lips, but it fades when I remember the grey-haired soldier is no doubt spending his days mining, unaware of our struggles to free both him and the enslaved humans.

  We keep going until we reach a spiral staircase.

  “Come on,” says Frost. “We’re almost there.”

  She leads us down the staircase. Though I have no proof of this, I suspect we’re now making our way into the stalactite we saw earlier. My heart starts racing, but I ignore it and press on.

  We keep going until we reach a large room. Perfectly circular, it’s completely empty but for a few items of furniture. At the far end of the room stand three elevated throne-like seats. Made entirely of ice and chiselled with great care, each seat harbours a human.

  A large man sits on the leftmost throne. His body is so massive I can’t help wondering how he got here. The passage leading to this chamber is far too narrow for a man of his bulky stature.

  On the rightmost throne sits a woman so tall and frail it’s a miracle she’s still alive. She appears more tree than human and sways gently in an inexistent breeze.

  The central throne is occupied by a man who is neither too wide nor too tall. He’s no different than any of the thousands of other men I encountered since the start of this insane adventure, yet there’s something about him that inspires awe. Perhaps it’s the way he presents himself—head high, back straight, shoulders back. Perhaps it’s the immaculate nature of his white beard and matching hair. All I know is that I feel small and insignificant as soon as I lay eyes on him.

  I focus on the five empty chairs that face the imposing figures. Smaller than the thrones, they appear to have been designed to imbue their occupants with a sense of inferiority.

  The final details I take into account are the ‘tal lamps that jut from the walls and the dozen or so windows that make up the room’s perimeter. Beyond them, I can make out the cavern where Kara and I got our first view of the Colony, but I look away before my acrophobia is activated.

  “Frost,” says the central man. “What are you doing here?”

  “Snow,” says Frost, bowing her head and doing a curtsy. “I request an audience.”

  Snow—another strange, winter-themed name—studies us for a moment. I can tell by the way he looks at us he thinks we’re freaks. I can’t blame him. As odd as wrinkled skin and tree-like features are to us, rosy complexions and delicate features are foreign to them.

  “Who are these strangers?” he asks.

  “These are my friends,” says Frost. “Will and Kara came from a distant land to speak to you.”

  “What do they want?”

  “Why don’t you ask them yourself?” says Frost. I can tell by the way the leaders react that such a blatant show of defiance is frowned upon, but the affront goes unpunished. I suspect Frost and Snow have a history of butting heads, though I can’t quite figure out why.

  “Have a seat,” instructs Snow. Kara and I do as told, but Frost remains standing. The leaders say nothing, but their sour expressions tells me they’re annoyed.

  “Why are you here?” asks the white-haired man.

  I glance at Kara. She gives me a slight nod, indicating I should take charge. I don’t relish the prospect of trying to convince Snow to go to war, but I don’t have a choice. I take a moment to gather my thoughts, then get to work.

  “We need your help,” I say. “The Kra’lors—aliens from a distant planet—have enslaved the humans. Tens of thousands of them are forced to toil away in filth and misery, mining ros’tal crystals they never get to use. Guarded by powerful robots called sentinels, the humans are struggling to survive. They live miserable lives and die young. They have never known joy or freedom. Only pain and despair. But there is hope. My friends and I are working to free them, but we can’t do it alone. We need help. Your help.”

  A short silence follows my speech.

  “How dare he speak to us in such a manner?” booms Snow. “How dare he insult us by assuming we don’t know about the Kra’lors and the sentinels?”

  Oops. It seems as though my speech had the inverse effect. Instead of convincing the leaders to help, it turned them against me, against my goal. Luckily, Frost comes to my rescue before the situation degenerates further.

  “I’m sure that’s not what was intended,” she says. “I suspect Will was merely trying to convey his message in the clearest way possible. Isn’t that right?”

  I nod.

  The wide man and the tall woman throw me suspicious glances, but I couldn’t care less. Snow is the one I must convince. If he agrees to help us, I have no doubt the others will follow.

  “Very well,” he says.

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  A heavy silence settles upon us. I hold out for as long as I can, but the stress of uncertainty eventually becomes too much for me to handle.

  “Will you help us?” I ask. “Will you help free the enslaved humans?”

  Snow studies me for a while.

  “No,” he says. “We won’t help.”

  I knew pleading the enslaved humans’ cause wouldn’t be easy, but it never occurred to me the free humans would refuse to help. Until now.

  “E-Excuse me?” I mutter.

  “We won’t help,” repeats Snow. He stands and starts pacing. “Why would we? No one ever helped us. We survived because we were strong, because we had no other choice. Why would we risk all we have created for the sake of a few poor souls?”

  “That’s not—” I begin, but Snow cuts me off.

  “They got what they deserved.”

  I glance at Kara. She shrugs.

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “No one deserves to live a life of servitude.”

  Snow chuckles.

  “Is that so?” He comes to a standstill before me and peers deep into my eyes. I nearly fold under the assault of his icy stare, but I have come too far to give up.

  “Yes,” I say. “Freedom is a right, not a privilege.”

  Snow scoffs.

  “Let me tell you a story. Then we’ll see how you feel about the enslaved humans’ supposed rights.”

  He returns to his throne and begins his tale.

  “It all started a little over five hundred years ago, not long after the Kra’lors took control of Earth. Their mining operation was causing the planet’s surface to cool, and facilities were being built to house the humans. But space was limited. The Kra’lors organized a lottery, and those who were selected were given a place to outlive the coming cold.”

 
Snow grows silent for a moment, lost in thought.

  “Not everyone was so lucky,” he continues, his voice now bitter. “Our ancestors were cast out, forced to survive the cold as best as they could. Most died. Only the strong survived. They banded together and formed the Colony, doing whatever it took to survive. With time, the pain of losing their friends and families was forgotten, but the injustice they were forced to endure was passed down from generation to generation. So I ask you: why should we help those who denied us assistance? Let them fend for themselves like our ancestors did. Let the strong survive and the weak perish.”

  Snow’s anger now makes sense. His logic may be skewed, but I understand why he despises the enslaved humans.

  “It’s not their fault,” says Kara. “The humans who denied your ancestors are long dead. The slaves that toil away in the mines may be their descendants, but that doesn’t make them guilty of their sins. They were born into this life. They never asked for it. Don’t they deserve to be happy? Don’t they deserve to be given a second chance?”

  Snow’s furrowed brow unfolds and, for a brief moment, I allow myself to believe Kara succeeded in convincing him to help. But then the anger returns and all hope is lost.

  “Were our ancestors given a second chance?” he snaps. “No!”

  He crosses his arm.

  I sigh, defeated.

  We failed. The thought repeats over and over, and time loses all meaning. It’s not until Frost approaches Snow’s throne that I emerge from my cocoon of guilt.

  “Don’t do this,” she pleads. “Don’t repeat our ancestor’s mistakes. Don’t let anger and hurt blind you to what’s right.”

  I expect Snow to cast her aside, but he sighs and nods.

  “Very well,” he says. “We will consider all facts before reaching a final verdict.”

  He glances at his fellow leaders, and they nod.

  It takes a moment for me to realize what that means.

  It’s not over. We still have a chance.

  “Show our guests to their quarters,” says Snow. “They will be staying with us until a verdict is reached.”

  Frost nods and leads us out of the room. I pause at the foot of the staircase and glance at Snow. He sits on his throne, glaring at me. I’m not sure what kind of power Frost has over him, but I hope it’s potent because I doubt he will change his mind on his own.

  “Do you and Snow have a… history?” I ask once we’re out of earshot.

  Frost chuckles.

  “You could say that. He’s my husband.”

  That explains a lot. Not only does Frost’s willingness to disrespect the leaders now make sense, but I also understand how she managed to convince Snow to delay voicing a verdict until all angles have been properly examined. I’m not sure if the delay will work in our favour, but I have faith.

  Frost leads us to the Colony’s topmost level. We pass by dozens of houses, all of which have been carved into the same block of ice that makes up the building’s structure. It’s not until we reach a building that stands apart that I know we have reached our destination.

  The inside of the dwelling is vast, a fact that’s made obvious by the presence of not one, but two guest bedrooms. Most surprising of all is the fact that every piece of furniture, every single item present in the dwelling is made of ice. But I forget all about that when I spot the bed. It looks rather uncomfortable, but the mere sight of it reminds me how exhausted I am.

  “It may take a few days for a verdict to be reached,” says Frost. “In the meantime, make yourselves at home.”

  I plan on doing just that. But most of all, I’m looking forward to enjoying a little downtime. Truth be told, I’m in desperate need of a break.

  Memory 56

  C ome on!” I call out. “It’s fun.”

  I perform a sharp turn, my skates lifting a cloud of ice shards. Pumping my legs, I glide toward Kara, who’s struggling to remain upright. In all the time I’ve known her, this is the first time I see her struggling with anything. I’m so accustomed to her being an expert at everything it feels good to finally be better than her at something.

  I skate circles around her, giving her tips and tricks to improve her technique.

  “Don’t lean forward too much.”

  “You have to angle your feet, or you won’t move forward.”

  “Turn. Turn! TURN!”

  Kara slams into a tree. Losing her balance, she falls on her butt and glides a short distance before coming to a stop. She seems dazed.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, skidding to a stop next to her.

  “I’m fine,. I just don’t understand how you can glide along so effortlessly.”

  I beam at the compliment.

  “Let me show you,” I say, offering her a hand.

  She takes it, and I pull her to her feet. She sways for a moment before gaining her balance.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “Take my hands,” I instruct.

  She hesitates but does as told.

  “Just follow my lead.” I begin slowly skating backward. She struggles to keep up, but my support allows her to test out various techniques without fear of falling. It takes a while, but she eventually masters the basics.

  “That’s it,” I say, releasing her. “You’re doing it. You’re…”

  My voice trails off when she misjudges a turn and loses her balance, but she glides across the icy surface with a high-pitched squeal of delight. I’ve never seen her have so much fun.

  “That was amazing!” she yells as soon as she comes to a stop. “Did you see? I did it.”

  She’s grinning like a child on Christmas morning. It’s nice to see her in such a good mood, but deep down I know the joy is only superficial. Like me, she’s worried about the fate of the enslaved humans. Not to mention her father.

  It’s been nearly a week since we arrived at the Colony, and Snow and his fellow leaders have yet to reach a verdict. I spent the first few days worrying, but Kara convinced me to take advantage of the respite to have a little fun. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve finally managed to cut loose.

  “You did great,” I say. I offer her a hand, but she refuses it. Using her newly developed technique, she plants the tip of her skate into the ice and uses it to right herself.

  “You’re a quick learner.”

  “Soon I’ll be better than you,” she teases. Kicking off, she skates toward the nearby forest. “Catch me if you can!” she calls as she vanishes into the mass of glowing trees.

  I chuckle.

  “Challenge accepted,” I mutter as I propel myself forward. I enter the forest, still a little creeped out by the fact that it’s basically a massive cemetery. Like the enslaved humans, the citizens of the Colony celebrate their fallen comrades. The forest of ice stands at the very center of the human society, illuminating them with its glow and enchanting them with the jingling of its crystalline leaves. Skating through it is both a magical and an eerie experience. But I forget about that when I realize Kara is pulling ahead. Pumping my legs harder, I quicken the pace and close the gap between us.

  “You won’t catch me,” teases Kara as she veers to the right and vanishes behind a tree.

  “Yes, I will,” I reply as I dash in pursuit. I could easily catch her, but I’m having so much fun I let her think I’m barely keeping up. I grow closer and pretend to miss, then pull back for a bit. I repeat this process over and over until I get the distinct impression Kara is purposefully slowing down.

  She wants me to catch her.

  I surge forward and, in my excitement, miscalculate my angle of approach. Dodging a branch, I lose my balance and slam into Kara. She crumbles, and I topple onto her. We skid across the ice for a moment before coming to a standstill.

  Time slows as I peer into Kara’s eyes. They’re so blue, so beautiful. But there’s something else there, something I haven’t seen in a while.

  Desire.

  As impossible as it seems, I could swear she wants
me to kiss her. We’ve been down this road before, yet I can’t help feeling like this is different.

  I go for it. Her lips are so warm, so soft. I wait for her to recoil, to push me away, but she doesn’t. She draws me in. I can feel her love, her longing. I match it, and the world fades away. But, like all good things, it eventually comes to an end.

  I pull away and peer into my friend’s eyes. The love remains, but there’s something new, something dark.

  Shame.

  “We can’t do this,” she mutters. Slipping out from under me, she leaps to her feet and glides away. I watch her go, pangs of longing washing over me. It’s not until she vanishes behind a massive glowing tree that I feel the urge to follow.

  I scramble to my feet and rush in pursuit. I progress quickly. Too quickly. I should have caught her by now. Slowing, I look around, but there’s no sign of the girl I love.

  I lost her.

  I keep searching for a while before realizing I’m wasting my time. Giving up, I retreat to the forest’s edge and find Kara making her way across the vast cavern. I call to her, but she doesn’t respond. Hoping to intercept her, I rush forward but fail to catch her in time. Leaving the skating rink without first removing my skates is forbidden as the blades would damage the ice and weaken the entire palace. Or so I’ve been told. I don’t believe it, but I know better than to risk the fate of our mission on such a triviality.

  I skid to a stop and begin unstrapping my skates. By the time I’m done, I have come to the conclusion that Kara returned to our temporary residence. I thus rush to the nearest stairwell and scale the steps three at a time. I reach the apartment in record time, but I’m too late to intercept my friend. However, I do arrive just in time to see her enter her bedroom and close the door. Well, “door” may be kind of an overstatement. Due to the icy nature of the dwelling, curtains are used instead of doors. While easily bypassed, they are considered sacred. Opening one without permission is a grave invasion of privacy.

  I approach the curtain with the firm intention of apologizing, but I can’t seem to find the right words. Perhaps it’s because I’m not sorry for what I have done. Kara wanted me to kiss her. It’s not like I forced myself upon her. Then again, she’s only doing what she thinks is best. Still, I can’t help wondering what it will take to convince her we belong together. But I forget all about that when I catch sight of my reflection in a nearby sheet of ice.