Revealing Eden (17 page)

But not for her mother, Eden recalled. Near the end she had refused to take it.

—I want to feel something, even pain
.

Naturally, she had cried all the time, which had embarrassed Eden. Her father hadn’t hid his displeasure. Grim-faced, he had left for the lab because random chaos ruled the world. If he could identify and catalog the chaos, he might establish order. That was all that mattered to him.

Alone, Eden had attended to her mother. For weeks she had puzzled over why her mother smiled, even as she cried. One day she’d found the courage to ask.

—Why are you smiling, Mother?

—Because I have hope
.

—For what?

—For love. For even more after this life
.

Years earlier, Eden had undergone the mandatory death experience and knew to expect only a calm black void. To appease her mother, she’d nodded vaguely.

—Eden, don’t you remember what Aunt Emily said? ‘Hope is the thing with feathers / That perches in the soul, / And sings the tune without the words, / And never stops at all.’

Nonsense, Eden now thought, brushing away her tears. For example, to which species of bird did Aunt Emily refer? Eden’s father was right. She needed to organize her chaotic feeling with logical thought.

And yet, she found herself longing for the warmth of Bramford’s body and the tingling excitement of his touch. She strained to listen outside, hoping to catch the sensual purring sound that drove her crazy.

Could a little bird called hope possibly sing for her?

Eden gathered the food Bramford had left; surprised that even in his fury he’d thought of it. It suggested that his mind was still more powerful than his raw emotions. Therefore, from now on, she would use pure objective reason to tame the primitive creature. No matter how wild he became, she would remain cool and objective. She wouldn’t give in to the base emotions that threatened to swamp her logic.

Mind over body would save her.

E
DEN TURNED in her sleep, enjoying what she thought was a fantasy on the World-Band.
I’m running across a beautiful, shaded, grassy field that slopes down towards an endless sky
. Then she heard a knocking sound and woke with a start. She took in the dirt floor and the thatched roof, her new reality coming back to her.

Then what was that? Eden wondered. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the sweet images. Slowly, they began to flicker in her mind.

Why, Bramford is chasing me. I laugh as he tumbles with me onto the grass. We roll like playful kittens. He’s smiling at me, really smiling. I’m so happy, I feel as light as a feather
.

Eden’s eyes flew open as she grinned. It was a dream, wasn’t it? She had been dreaming in her sleep—and at nighttime, too.

She recalled that long ago, before the aid of oxy, people were prone to such mental distortions. And yet, this dream delighted her. Her happiness in it felt almost real. Certainly, her romantic experiences with Jamal paled in comparison. The grassy knoll appeared more vivid than any heathery cliff she’d seen in Old England. In fact, the dreamy sensations of Bramford’s touch still lingered in her body.

Again, she heard a knock.

“Eden?” a man’s voice called.

She jerked to her knees and the blood rushed from her head. Woozy, she braced her palms against the ground. She heard the bar being lifted. The door opened and she blinked as daylight flooded into the tiny hut.

“Lorenzo?”

“Hola.”

Eden tensed, recalling the girls’ violent reactions to her white skin. The gentle warrior only smiled. Touched by his kindness, she smiled back.

Then she saw that he was naked except for a thin rope around his groin. She stumbled to her feet and leaned against the wall, her cheeks flush. Her brain sent out a jumble of distress signals—food, oxy, sleep.

Luckily, she recalled a few Spanish words she had learned whenever her sensors had translated.

“¿Mi padre?”
Eden said, concerned for her father.

“Okay,” Lorenzo said.

He handed her a coconut bowl filled with lumpy
chicha
. Once again, the sour smell repulsed her, though her stomach rumbled with hunger. Already, the torn, dirty dress was slipping off her frame.

Eden dipped a finger into the unappetizing mess, hoping she wouldn’t pull out a bug. She tasted it, tentatively. Like vomit, she decided, spitting it out.

Embarrassed, she stared at the floor until she heard a shuffling sound. She looked up to find Lorenzo gone and the door open. Had he meant to free her or simply forgotten to shut it? Eden dropped the bowl and dashed outside.

Lorenzo waited beside a stately royal palm, smiling as she came up beside him. No judgment or anger. Just acceptance. She thought she might cry again if he showed her one more ounce of kindness.

He led her through the compound, taking care to skirt the sunlit center. Eden walked gingerly, wishing she hadn’t lost her shoes. The dirt clung to her bare feet, filling in between her toes. And yet, the shaded earth felt cool against the soles of her feet, and somehow gave her a weighty feeling, like she mattered. She even found the temperature outside almost pleasant, and breathed in the sweet-smelling fragrances that laced the air.

Another day, and it hadn’t killed her. Not yet, anyway.

Eden heard a small child’s cry and turned to see a naked toddler standing in the vegetable garden. The boy tunneled under the arm of an Indian woman who looked up in surprise from her work.

Real food—maize, sweet potatoes, chili peppers and peanuts. What Eden wouldn’t give for her daily meal pills.

“Lucy y Carlito,”
Lorenzo said, nodding towards mother and child.

She smiled at them, but they simply stared. Were they also thinking of the dreaded Rebecca? Eden turned away with a deep sigh.

She followed Lorenzo round a bend onto a narrow path lined with giant bird of paradise plants. Huge flowers with dark blue beaks and spiked white helmets peered down at her like haughty women. Several yards ahead, Eden saw another clearing in the jungle around a wooden, dome-shaped structure. Thick, antiquated solar panels covered the roof over which a cloudless blue sky soared.

At her questioning glance, Lorenzo explained.
“Padre.”

Eden’s step quickened. She peeked inside the door to find a rudimentary laboratory large enough for three or four workers. Light streamed in through the tinted panels, bathing the room in soft, amber hues. A few crude wooden desks, gathered in the center of the room, housed old-fashioned boxy computers and hand-held microscopes.

A big step down from the sophisticated laboratory of REA, Eden thought. And yet, her father already seemed at home. He sat at the main desk, against which a crude crutch leaned, deep in conversation with Bramford.

The beast’s naked back was to the door. Eden’s stomach somersaulted as she traced the line of his muscles. Just hungry, she told herself.

A slight twitch of his head told her he had registered her presence. But her jailer ignored her. Probably too ashamed to face her.

“Daught!” her father said, turning to her.

“Hello, Father.”

In just one day he’d grown feeble. Pain clouded his eyes. His face had a waxy cast. He looked sharply away. Probably to spare her from his weakness.

“What’s that?” Eden said, pointing to a patch of yellow-stained goo that covered his wounded leg.

“An herbal poultice,” he said. “Maria prepared it. I expect it will draw out the toxins.”

“You’ll assist your father here, Eden,” Bramford said over his shoulder.

If she had hoped for an apology, she realized he wasn’t going to offer one.

“Does that mean I’m freed from prison?” she said.

Her father began to blink rapidly, though he continued to avoid her eye. “Prison, Daught?”

“Didn’t you know? Either our host thinks I can escape this hellhole or he’s a sadistic beast.”

Bramford jerked around, trapping her in the crosshairs of his gaze. “I’ve seen what you’re capable of, Eden. Just don’t forget, I’m watching you. Do you understand?”

“I understand that your power has driven you berserk.”

He growled menacingly. His eyes blazed with hot light. A secret smiled tugged at Eden. She might be powerless, but she sure could get under his skin. She strolled past him, inches away, and flicked her hair against his chest.

Go ahead, do something
.

Instead, his anger softened to a frustrated moan. Her heart skipped a beat and she wobbled onto a stool.
So much for mind over body
.

“She understands,” her father said, his gaze unnaturally fixed straight ahead. “Don’t you, Daught?”

She could have been killed in the jungle for all he knew. But let’s not upset the prized prototype. And why wouldn’t he look at her? With a sick jolt, she realized that her white skin embarrassed him. She stared at the ground, wishing just once he’d accept her for who she was.

“I understand very well, Father.”

He wiped his glasses on his shirt and resumed his conversation with Bramford. “You see, you present the full capabilities of
Homo sapiens
as well as the leading animal’s characteristics, namely the jaguar—”

“But can you reverse the process, doctor?”

Her father hesitated, checking his notes. Eden’s urgent, heartfelt response surprised her.
Say no, Father
.

“An interesting question,” he finally replied. “Even at stage one the projection for reversal was slim. In your advanced adaptation the mostly likely outcome will be the demise of the subject.”

“What you’re saying is a reversal might kill me?”

“Correct.”

“Otherwise, I’ll remain like this…” Bramford grimaced. “This animal?”

“Exactly. An amazing interspecies adaptation.”

Eden resented the feverish glow in her father’s eyes. Far from ruining their lives, the accident had provided him with the opportunity for scientific investigation and possible glory.

“This isn’t what I bargained for,” Bramford said.

“Can’t you appreciate the advantages?” Her father looked disappointed as the question hung in the air. “Well, the choice remains with you.”

Bramford walked to the doorway and stared out. A trio of chestnut-mandibled toucans,
Ramphastos swainsonii
, sat perched upon a long branch that slashed in front of a tangle of trees, like a restraining cordon. The birds turned their huge bills to one side and stared at him. Their croaking sounds seemed to echo Eden’s anxiousness.

Bramford began to present his argument to the feathered jury. “If even a slim possibility of reversion existed, then I assume the possibility of accelerating a transformation may also exist. Since I don’t wish to remain in this half-state, which reminds me…” His voice faltered and the toucans swung their bills to the other side. “But if I could fully adapt, perhaps I wouldn’t know the difference. Can you do it?”

“What? Speed up the adaptation?” Her father almost
spilled off his stool. “Yes, of course, it is possible to optimize the procedure. However…”

Bramford pivoted to face him. “What?”

“I cannot guarantee that the subject will retain his analytical faculties. However, if we postulate acceleration, factoring in your current state of adaptation and, of course, your particular genome…”

Eden leaned forward as he hesitated. “What is it, Father?”

Bramford summed up the situation. “Either I risk death to regain my humanity or I lose it altogether and become a full-fledged animal. Is that it?”

“Very well put,” her father said proudly.

She winced at his lack of sensitivity. But if Bramford felt the sting of it, he didn’t react.

“Allow me to show you,” he added.

His fingers danced over the keyboard, trying to keep pace with his thoughts. Once more Bramford turned to study the landscape. The slump in his shoulders caused Eden a twinge of pity.

“There,” her father said, with a satisfied nod at the screen.

She edged beside him and gasped at the image of a super jaguar. Dark fur covered the large, muscular body that now walked on four legs. Mother Earth, it even had a tail. The only remnant of humanity showed in the creature’s discerning eyes.