Unchanged (26 page)

I shiver at the thought of leaving this bed and the warmth of my new thick blanket. “No, thank you.”

“C'mon,” he urges. “It'll be fun. Well, maybe not like
fun
fun but it'll be good for you to get out of this tent, stretch your legs, breathe some fresh air. I'll introduce you to some interesting people.”

The thought of possibly gathering more intelligence about Paddok's plan of attack is what eventually convinces me to mutter my agreement.

I clank my cuff against the bed frame, reminding him that I'm not exactly free to roam around.

Sevan snaps to attention. “Oh, right.” He pulls a key from his pocket but doesn't completely release me. He unlocks the cuff from the bed and swiftly fastens it to his own wrist.

“Now you can't go anywhere without taking me with you,” he jokes.

I glare at him.

“Look, it's not for me,” he explains, nodding toward the outside. “It's for them.”

He gives my wrist a tug. I brace for the cold and peel the blankets from my body with my free hand. He helps me out of the bed, offering his shoulder for me to lean on as we shuffle toward the door.

“It's warped, isn't it?” he asks.

“What?”

“Being a Normate.”

“Are all of you this helpless?”

He laughs. “Not all of us.”

“This is what Dr. A is trying to prevent, you know? This kind of weakness.”

Sevan pulls back the tent flap and guides me through it. “Dr. Alixter is trying to prevent a lot of things, Sera, but human weakness isn't one of them.”

 

41

INCENTIVES

“How long have you been a part of this?” I ask Sevan as we hobble into the center of the camp. I lean on his arm way too much but he doesn't seem to mind. So far, he's kinder than anyone else has been to me since I got here. We've only been outside for a few minutes and already I've gotten half a dozen repulsed glares.

“For a while now.”

“Dr. A never knew?”

“The only people who knew are here right now.”

I think back to the last time I saw Sevan. At our hotel in Atlanta. “You destroyed my memory files, didn't you? After that last scan? That's why I was out so long.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “We were so close to extracting you. If Dr. Alixter got wind that anything was amiss, we wouldn't have been able to go through with the plan.”

“Why?” I ask, doing little to hide my disapproval. “Why would you deceive him like that?”

Sevan smiles. “You and I are acquainted with two very different versions of Jans Alixter.”

I scowl. “And what version are
you
acquainted with?”

He doesn't answer. Instead, he points to the man who shoved the shotgun barrel in my face yesterday. He's sitting at one of the wooden tables in the dining area, chomping ferociously on a chunk of deer meat. When he sees me, he eyes his shotgun leaning against the edge of the table. “That's Jase Plummer. He's from New Orleans. Three years ago, his baby daughter died during childbirth. Not even a minute old.”

I recoil. “That's horrible. Why didn't they use an artificial womb?”

“They did. Diotech-manufactured. Their doctor convinced them it was the safest option. Little did they know, the womb they ordered was part of a faulty batch that shouldn't have been released into the marketplace. Diotech failed to test it properly. About three thousand babies died that month. Jase's wife killed herself shortly after. By pumping her veins full of Cv9.”

Cv9. A heavy sedation drug. Ten times stronger than a Relaxer.

Also manufactured by Diotech.

“You can't be sure that Diotech was responsible for the faulty wombs,” I argue. “A lot of other factors could have contributed.”

Sevan snickers darkly. “You sound just like the Diotech lawyers. Dr. Alixter was able to pin the blame on one of their distributors, claiming that the wombs were damaged in transit.”

He points in the opposite direction, toward a man working on the engine of a hovercopter, presumably the same one that was used to transport me here. “That's Davish Swick. Former owner of Swick Worldwide, the transit company that used to handle the bulk of Diotech's distribution. The company was obliterated after Diotech claimed they were responsible for the death of three thousand babies. The case went to trial. Diotech won. No surprises there. Some might argue it was because Swick really
was
responsible for the faulty wombs. Others—like, say, a Memory Coder who was in charge of altering the memories of the technicians who tested the wombs—would probably argue differently.”

Davish Swick watches me with distrustful eyes as we pass.

Next, Sevan points to a short raven-haired woman carrying a wicker basket full of clothes. “Leylia Wong. She was a scientist on the verge of a miraculous breakthrough that would have allowed us to use our waste as fuel. It would have solved the energy crisis and the pollution crisis, but her lab was suddenly shut down. Without warning. Her funds were cut. When she tried to move her research to her own garage, she found all of her files had mysteriously vanished from the SkyServer. Maybe it's just a coincidence that Diotech was about to announce the four-trillion-dollar implementation of the nationwide MagLines, a project that would have been rendered completely irrelevant if Leylia's research had seen the light of day.” He shrugs. “Or maybe not.”

He gestures toward a stout, unkempt man exiting the food tent where I stumbled upon the dead animals last night. “And that's Nem Rouser. His family owned a small cattle ranch in Montana for almost two hundred years. Until Diotech released a new line of synthetic meats and all the cattle ranches were shut down.”

I shake my head. “Now you're stretching the truth to try to make a point. Diotech
had
to create the synthetic meat because the cows were dying from Bovine Liver Disease. I learned about it in an upload
you
gave me.”

Sevan shrugs. “Chicken or the egg, I suppose.”

I frown. “What does that mean?”

“It means, it's just a little suspicious that Diotech had the synthetic meats ready to launch into the marketplace
right
as the BLD crisis hit.”

“Are you claiming Diotech purposely spread liver disease to the cows?”

He raises his eyebrows, mocking me. “Wouldn't that be scandalous?” Then he points toward a bulky, muscular man walking in the direction of Paddok's tent. Although
walking
is a nice way to put it. It's more like a rickety hobble. His shoulders are hunched forward and one of his feet drags heavily and lifelessly behind the other.

“You probably never met Olin Vas during your time on the compound.”

“Okay, okay.” I stop him, not wanting to listen to another devastating story. “I get it. You all have a reason to hate Diotech. It still doesn't mean—”

But the breath is knocked out of me when Olin, having heard his name, turns to look at us. I have to stifle the scream that bubbles up in my throat at the sight of his face. It's the most ghastly thing I've ever seen. The left side is completely deformed. Like someone stretched out the skin and rearranged his features. His eye droops past the tip of his nose. His left ear is completely gone, and his hair on that side only grows in small tufts, leaving behind giant bald spots that are patched in ugly red sores.

Not unexpectedly, he gives me a scowl and pushes his way into Paddok's tent. I'm grateful for his disappearance. I'm not sure how much longer I'd be able to look at him.

“That is how Diotech treats its ex-employees,” Sevan says. If I didn't know any better I would think he was actually
enjoying
my reaction to all this.

“He worked for Diotech?” I ask in disbelief.

“Agent Vas used to be on Director Raze's security force. Until he was framed for one of the director's mistakes.”

Director Raze makes mistakes?

Well, underestimating Jenza Paddok was certainly one of them.

“What was it? The mistake?” I ask.

“You,” he says casually.

“Me?”

“The first time you and Lyzender attempted to escape.”

A hint of acid stings the back of my throat.

I know about this. It was one of the erased memories that was restored after my return to the compound last year.

Lyzender convinced me to run away with him. He showed me captures of snow-capped mountains and exciting foreign cities. He made me absurd promises about being together forever. And like the fool that I was, I believed him. I went blindly.

That was before Lyzender discovered the existence of the transession gene. We attempted to escape by boarding a delivery van exiting the northwest gate. We were tracked down a few miles outside of the compound after they did a satellite scan on my implant.

I always wondered how we were able to slip out under Raze's careful watch.

Was it because he was being careless?

Did he really blame his mistake on that poor man?

“His punishment was genetic mutilation,” Sevan explains. “Not one of the products Diotech advertises to the public.”

I think about the genetic disguises Kaelen and I were given when we left for the tour. But that was different. A few small tweaks, a few
temporary
imperfections. That man's face is ruined forever.

My voice is shaking. “You mean, they…”

“Sent a scrambling signal to his DNA? Yes. The same way they were able to program your DNA with the genetic implant that held your tracking code. His DNA has been programmed to make him look like that. It's quite a painful process. Having your face rearranged while you're still awake.”

I reach down and touch the smooth, flawless skin of my wrist, where the black line used to be. “You changed mine. Why can't you fix him?”

“It's too extreme,” says a voice behind me. I spin to see Paddok standing there. She's still dressed in her green pants and gray sleeveless shirt, but her skin appears to have been recently cleaned, which makes me wonder if there's a water source nearby. “Trust me, we've tried. We don't have the technology, and it would simply be too painful.”

I remember the unbearable agony that twisted my bones and clawed at the inside of my arm when they removed my implant. And that was only a little black line.

“Diotech doesn't just discharge you,” Sevan tells me. “They mutilate you. They destroy you. So you never forget.”

“What is she doing out here?” Paddok asks.

“I thought it would be good for her to see the camp. Learn why we're here.”

“You're wasting your time,” she tells Sevan, her distrustful eyes lingering on me when she says it. “She's gone. Alixter's brainwashing is far too deep.”

I want to argue but I'm suddenly at a loss for words. Besides, what can I say in response to that?

That I'm not brainwashed?

That Dr. A is not the monster she thinks he is?

That all of these people are making it up? Fabricating stories about loss and heartache and pain just to have a valid reason to take down Diotech?

Paddok flashes me a tight-lipped smile before disappearing into her tent.

I think back to the capture I saw of Paddok emerging from the courthouse. The one where Lyzender was hiding in the crowd. The digital docket announced that her case had been dismissed.

What was the case?

Why was she fighting them?

I'm about to ask Sevan this very question when something catches the corner of my eye. Or rather some
one
.

He's tall and slender, standing with his back to me, talking to the man Sevan identified as Davish Swick. It's not his body that catches my attention, however, it's his hair. Blond and unruly, a mess of tangled curls. He turns his head ever so slightly to the side and I'm able to see the profile of his narrow face. His achingly
familiar
face.

I feel a squeeze in my chest. My mind is playing tricks on me. That's the only logical explanation.

Because it's the year 2117. If he were still alive, he would be one hundred and seventeen years old. But this boy—this young
man
—can't be older than twenty-five. And yet it's him. I know it's him. His nose, his cheekbones, his hair are identical to the boy I once knew. The boy who used to blush when I looked at him.

As I call out his name, my thin, frail voice nearly vanishes into the air. “Cody?”

He turns. And that's when my legs finally give out from under me.

 

42

HERITAGE

The impact of my sudden fall knocks Sevan off balance and, with his wrist still handcuffed to my own, he nearly tumbles down next to me. He manages to catch himself just before hitting the ground and bends to help me up.

I'm rambling now, barely making any sense. Words are spilling chaotically from my mouth. “How is he here? He can't be here! Did he give himself the gene? Why would he do that? Is he looking for me? Did he come with Lyzender?”

But that's impossible.

The Cody who reverse engineered the transession gene for Lyzender was thirty-two. This man is way younger than that.

Did Lyzender transesse back in time to give a younger Cody the gene?

As these thoughts tumble around in my head, the man stares at me completely dumbfounded. As if he doesn't even recognize me.

“Why is he looking at me like that? Doesn't he remember me?” I stab an accusing finger into Sevan's chest. “Did you recode his memories?”

“Sera,” Sevan says sternly, placing his palms on my cheeks and forcing me to look at him. “It's not him. It's not Cody.”

“Yes it is!” I scream. “It's him! It's Cody Carlson. My foster brother. He's just older. Or younger. Or I don't know but it's him!” I try to turn my head to look at the man again, but Sevan holds me in place.