Unchanged (43 page)

I try to comfort her but it's never been my strong suit. I end up silently patting her on the back. I won't tell her everything is going to be okay because those seem like empty words that have no meaning.

“Sera,” she blubbers. “I'm so lost. I'm so confused. I don't know what to think. Everything is falling apart. They're storming the walls outside. They're trying to get in. I don't know if Raze can hold them back any longer.”

Startled, I pull her away and shake her so that she'll focus on me. “What? Crest. Pay attention. What is happening?”

She sniffles, attempting to compose herself. “Your feedcast. It's … people are so angry. They're rioting outside the compound. They're trying to climb the walls. They're flying over in hovercopters and dropping people down. I don't want them to be angry at me. I didn't know! I swear I didn't know!”

She starts to cry again.

“No one is angry at you,” I assure her. “No one blames you for any of this. You were just doing your job. How many people, Crest?” She shudders, her gaze drifting. I shake her again. “How many?”

“I don't know,” she cries. “A thousand. Two thousand. Too many to count. I can't even see them all. Eventually, Raze darkened the VersaScreens so we couldn't see out. How long do you think he can hold them off?”

This is bad. This is very bad. Director Raze is already short on soldiers after the bunker explosion. He already sent the police away. If enough people decide to storm this place, I don't think he can fight them off.

“Listen,” I tell Crest. “You need to get out of here. Can you get to a hover?” Her eyes glaze, like she's lost in a daydream. “CREST!” She blinks her attention back to me. “Get to the Transpo Sector. Find a hover. Get as far away from here as you can. Do you hear me?”

She nods vaguely. “What about you?”

“I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. I'm strong. Remember what you said to me? That night in my room? I'm stronger than I give myself credit for.”

She nods again, uncertain. I feel myself panicking. She has to get out of here. She
has
to. I can't handle one more innocent person I love dying because of my choices. And Crest is as innocent as they come.

“You look terrible,” she says vacantly, reaching out to run a fingertip through my unwashed hair.

A hint of a smile breaks onto my face. “I know.”

“You need a bath. And a body scrub. And a hairbrush.”

“Can you do me a favor?” I ask her.

“Yes.”

“Can you go to my room and get my brush, and my body scrub, and all of the other things you think I might need? Then can you get in a hover and take them somewhere far away from here?”

“Where?” She sounds so small. So traumatized.

“Anywhere. A hotel. An island. Anywhere you want to go. Then you ping me when you get there, okay? You ping me the address and I will meet you there. I will break out of this place and come find you. Do you understand?”

Another nod. I can see a hint of focus returning to her eyes. A purpose filling her sunken cheeks. I've given her a task and, most important, she believes it's real.

I reach out and pull her into a hug. I kiss her cheek, right atop a looping tat of a woman walking through what's left of a bloody battlefield. Then I give her slight push. “Go. Now. I'll see you soon.”

She gets to her feet and walks to the door, pounding on it to be let out. “Don't say anything to anyone,” I tell her.

“I won't,” she whispers as the door opens.

I can deduce from the noise and commotion outside this room that rioters have already gotten inside the walls I once thought were so impenetrable.

The walls that were built to protect me.

As I watch Crest disappear behind the door, I pray that she can make it out of here safely. I pray that she'll find another life that makes her happy.

I pray that someday she'll forgive me for lying.

 

76

END

The next time the door opens, several hours later, it's not anyone I recognize on the other side. A mob of eight men charge into the room, drag me to my feet, and carry me out.

I don't struggle.

I'm transported down a long corridor that I recognize as a hallway of the Publicity Building. I was right. I was being held in one of the testing cells. The din from outside is growing louder the closer we get to the exit. As soon as we're through the doorway and into the heart of the Administration Sector, I hardly even recognize the compound anymore.

It's been completely overrun.

There are people everywhere. Not just thousands, as Crest speculated, but tens of thousands at least. Every available space has been filled with bodies. Incensed, thrumming, chanting bodies. When they see me hoisted into the air by the arms of the men carrying me, they only get louder. They cheer and applaud my capture.

I could break free in an instant but what would be the point? I'd never get anywhere. I'd be rushed and squeezed to death by the mob.

As the crowd continues to chant, I'm carried into the Residential Sector. I'm overwhelmed by the smell of sweat and fire.

Right then, a loud booming voice rattles the air and shakes my bones.

“Aha! The second one has been apprehended!” The words are slightly distorted from whatever speaker system they've managed to rig up, but I recognize his chilling voice. His crisp, sharp cadence.

Pastor Peder.

I twist in an effort to see where the voice is coming from, and that's when I catch sight of what's become of the Rec Field.

It's so crammed with people, I can't even see the green surface of the synthograss below. At the far other end, still a hundred yards away, a makeshift stage has been erected. Peder stands atop it, his arms outstretched toward me.

It's hard to get a good view from my awkward position sprawled out above the sea of heads, but behind Peder I can make out two large transparent globes hovering thirty feet in the air. They look almost identical to the ones that were used during our first interview with Mosima Chan.

And to my horror, staring out through the thick synthoglass of the ball on the left, is Kaelen.

That's when I start to struggle. But I quickly discover it's no use. There are too many people. Too many hands. They pass me forward, a progression of rough, eager fingers poking my back and spine and legs until I arrive at the stage.

Kaelen is pounding on the glass, screaming something but I can't hear it. None of us can. The synthoglass is too thick. Even if I could hear him, the sound would be drowned out by the raucous shouts from the horde.

I finally make out what they're saying.

“Ex the Gens! Ex the Gens!”

They want us both dead. I didn't need a chant to figure that out.

The egg on the right is lowered and I'm jostled inside. The clear surface seals around me, locking me in. At least it's quiet in here. At least I no longer have to listen to them.

I spread my legs for balance as I'm hoisted into the air.

From here, I can see almost the entire compound. The glinting domes of the Aerospace Sector. The impressive hangars of the Transportation Sector. The vibrant flowers that line the walkways. Even the gnarled, twisted cottonwood tree. Where Sariana's life ended and mine began.

The sight takes my breath away. So many angry faces, I can't even begin to count them. They must have come from all ends of the earth.

Is Zen out there somewhere?

A breath of fresh air mixed into this madness? A single pinprick of light in the darkness?

Some of the compound buildings have been partially destroyed. Some are being raided now. The Owner's Estate behind us is ablaze. The flames are just starting to break through the VersaScreen windows and lap at the sides of the house. All I can think is that I hope Crest got out in time.

I hope she's not still in there searching for hairbrushes and nanopins.

Panicked, I turn toward the Medical Sector in the distance. It's by far the most impervious sector on the compound. The buildings are reinforced with synthosteel. The labs are secured. But what if they manage to get in? What if they find what I've done? They'll destroy it for sure.

Has Zen looked at the cube drive I left him?

Has he watched the memory I stored in there?

Or is he too angry at me for repressing his transession gene and leaving him behind?

I need him to access the contents of that drive. I need him to protect what's inside Rio's lab.

My globe prison comes to a halt as I reach my position alongside Kaelen. His body is turned to me, his palms flat against the curved surface of the ball.

I match his position, placing my hand against the glass. As if I could reach out and touch him. As if I could feel his skin against mine one last time.

My eyes lock onto his and in that moment, I understand. I know. We both do.

He doesn't hate me. He never could.

Just as I could never hate him.

Maybe Dr. Alixter was right all along. Maybe we really are incapable of hurting each other. Because as our gazes intersect and I feel that warm, familiar magnetism drawing me to him, even through this impenetrable glass, I know that all is forgiven.

And soon all will be forgotten.

Peder is speaking to the crowd now, riling them up even more. He's pointing vehemently toward us as we hover helplessly in the sky.

Part of me wishes I could hear what he's saying.

Part of me is grateful I can't.

Because in the end it doesn't really matter. I wanted to make people see the truth. I wanted to help build a new world. One where corporations like Diotech can't get away with deceiving people. With brainwashing people.

Looking out at this astounding spectacle, I guess I've succeeded.

Even if it wasn't in the way I envisioned.

Synthoglass is known for being airtight. Eventually we will run out of oxygen in here. It will take a long time, though.

But it soon becomes apparent they're not willing to wait.

I watch the silent green vapor seep out of the small canister that's been secured to the top of the sphere. It slithers menacingly toward me. Like a long, crooked finger, outstretched and beckoning.

“If it was deadly it would have been green.”

Kaelen holds his breath. I do the same. It doesn't seem to matter, though. As soon as the vapor reaches my skin, I cry out in agony. It burns. It suffocates. And as I watch Kaelen's face, his lips parted wide in a scream, I soon realize it disfigures as well.

As the gas boils and blisters my flesh, I almost have to laugh. I find their weapon of choice so disturbingly fitting.

The two most beautiful specimens of humans, born in artificial chambers not too dissimilar from these, dying an ugly, deforming death.

As I scream and writhe and try in vain to brush the vapor from my skin, through the green poisonous cloud that envelops me, high in the sky, I can just make out a hovercopter in the distance. Followed by a second, a third, and a fourth.

Do they hold more rioters?

Or do they hold help?

I turn to Kaelen to see if he's spotted them, but he's not looking up. He's looking at me. Fighting to peer through the thick green fog. Our eyes connect once again. I place my blistered, rotting hand against the glass. Slowly, agonizingly, I begin to play the chords of our secret language.

Index finger, fourth finger
=
G.

Index, middle
=
O.

Index, middle
=
O.

Thumb, index, fourth finger
=
D.

My muscles give out before I can finish and my hand falls to my side. As my legs crumple, and I hit the glass bottom of my prison cell in the sky, I can only hope that he was able to infer the rest of the message.

Now that I'm down, the vapor works hard to finish me off quickly. For that, I'm grateful. My damaged body convulses. My bones shrivel up inside my skin. My eyes feel heavy. The last thing I see before they shut forever is Kaelen. He's still standing. Still holding on. Still bracing against the pain. Even though we both know it will eventually take him, too.

His determination makes me smile.

He always was the stronger one.

 

77

AFTER

THREE HOURS LATER …

The captain shouts several orders at once as his hovercopter touches down upon the broken earth. The Neutralizers they sprayed over the compound cleared out most of the rioters, but there are still a few stragglers wandering aimlessly in circles, like zombies lost in their own shadows.

As he disembarks, he takes in the destruction that lies before him. A mansion burnt to the ground. Buildings torn open, like large, bleeding wounds. And two giant orbs, suspended in the air like soap bubbles, each encapsulating an unconscious body and a monstrous cloud of green gas.

“Get those glitching things down from there and get those people out!”

His subordinates run toward the hovering chambers, searching for the controls that are keeping them afloat. When they finally manage to lower them to the ground, the captain notices the boils and blisters on the prisoners' skin.

“Stop!” he calls out. “Don't open those yet. Someone get me a suit.”

The area is cleared and the captain, protected by a layer of synthetic rubber, opens the first chamber. He barely recognizes the girl. Her face has been almost completely deformed by the gas. Her flesh is corroded and her hair singed away in places, leaving behind rough and blotchy patches of scalp. It isn't until he lifts her swollen eyelid and sees the luminous purple hue staring back at him that he can start to piece together exactly what happened here.

He pulls a Slate from his pocket and scans for a signal. Two sets of nanosensors appear on his screen. They recount the sad conclusion to a story that started and ended within these walls. An ending he was too late to prevent.