Unforgotten (25 page)

Cody laughs and swings the boy back and forth. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Daddy,” the boy says, and then he starts talking so rapidly, I can barely follow. “You’ll never guess what happened today at school.” He doesn’t give Cody a chance to guess; he just keeps talking. “This one girl, Rhi, she brought her frog to show-and-tell and Mrs. Beecher doesn’t like frogs. She thinks they’re slimy. But Rhi’s parents said she had to let her bring it anyway because Mrs. Beecher can’t say who can and can’t bring things, unless they’re dangerous things like knives and snakes. So Rhi brought the frog and this boy, Brayden, he was supposed to put the frog back into its aquarium, but he didn’t close the door all the way and the frog got loose and it climbed into Mrs. Beecher’s hair and she was screaming and flapping her arms so crazy.” Reese is waving his hands in the air to demonstrate his story and Cody has to continually duck his head to avoid being slapped in the face. “And everyone was laughing, except Mrs. Beecher, who was screaming, and no one would help her because it was too funny.”

When the boy finishes his story, he draws a long breath. I think he used up all the oxygen in a five-mile radius.

Then he turns and seems to notice me for the first time because he lets out a small yelp and goes very quiet. “Who’s that?” he whispers to Cody.

Cody laughs and takes a step toward me. “This is my friend Seraphina. Seraphina, this is my son, Reese.”

I paint on a bright smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Reese.”

But Reese, miraculously losing his ability to speak, turns and buries his face in his father’s shoulder.

“Aw, c’mon,” Cody coaxes. “Don’t be shy. She’s very nice.”

It takes a moment, but eventually Reese emerges from his hiding place in Cody’s shirt and turns to look at me. He stuffs two fingers in his mouth, but Cody immediately pulls them out.

“Do you know how to play Super Suds Sub?” Reese asks.

“Uh.” I look to Cody for help.

“It’s a virtual sim game,” he tells me. “His favorite.”

“You get to drive a submarine,” Reese explains eagerly.

I look to Cody for a definition of the word
submarine.
He seems to understand my silent request. “A vessel that travels deep underwater.”

“Yep,” Reese goes on, his face lighting up like a lantern as he cuts his hand through the air. “They go really deep in the ocean.
Zoom! Zoom!
Really fast! And it blows soap bubbles and you look at fishes and play musical instruments!”

“Wow,” I say, widening my eyes. I’m reminded of little Jane Pattinson and the way her features illuminated when I told her the story of the magic princess. My heart pangs silently for her.

“That sounds fun,” I reply. “But unfortunately I don’t know how to play it.”

Reese looks like I’ve just murdered his entire family.

“But,” Cody says, coming to my rescue, “maybe after dinner you can
teach
Seraphina how to play.”

Reese’s eyebrows rise hopefully as he glances at me for confirmation.

“I … I would love that.”

I’m relieved to see that this has evidently erased all the harm that I may have caused. Reese bounds from his father’s arms and dashes into the living room. “I’ll load it!”

“After dinner!” Cody calls.

“I’m just gonna get it ready!” Reese yells back.

Cody sticks his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, I hope you didn’t have any plans tonight. He’s pretty hard to say no to.”

“He’s very”—I search for the right word—“interesting.”

Cody chuckles. “Thanks. Coming from someone as literal as you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

A sudden panic floods through me. “It
was
a compliment!”

“I know.” Cody bumps against my shoulder. “I’ve definitely missed you.”

A smile breaks out over my face. It feels good. “I’ve missed you, too, Cody.”

40

NORMALCY

Ella was right. Cody is an amazing cook. Maybe it’s just because I’m so incredibly famished, or maybe it’s because Mrs. Pattinson’s cooking was so bland and flavorless, but this chicken is the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted. Even better than the grilled cheese sandwich Cody’s mom, Heather, made for me on my first night at their house.

It’s so rich and succulent and full of delicious spices that I can’t even begin to identify.

“So,” Ella says, taking a sip of her wine, “Cody told me you were a friend of the family back when he was a teenager?”

Cody gives me a clandestine nod, indicating that she hasn’t, in fact, been told the truth about me.

I smile warmly back at her. “That’s right.” Even though the words out of my mouth might be dishonest, my smile is genuine. Cody’s wife has an infectious joy about her. It’s hard
not
to smile.

“You must have been very young then,” she calculates, “because you don’t look much older than a teenager now.”

“She’s twenty-five,” Cody is quick to put in.

I nod. “That’s right.” I know exactly why he lied about my age. I can’t possibly be a teenager. That would mean I wouldn’t have been born in 2013.

“You look so young,” she remarks, swallowing a mouthful of chicken. “And so incredibly beautiful. I’m sure you get that a lot.”

I feel my face warm and look down at my plate.

“I mean, truly stunning,” she goes on. “Like a model.” She turns to Cody. “Which reminds me, did you
see
the new billboard that went up next to the market? I swear the women in those clothing ads are looking thinner and thinner. It makes me want to stop eating completely.”

“Babe,” Cody says, giving her a warm look. “You know models aren’t real people. They’re computer generated.”

She takes another sip of her wine and sighs. “I know. It should be illegal, though. How am I supposed to shop for clothes when the department stores are filled with digital projections of
synthetic
people who don’t have a single curve or wrinkle?”

Cody and I share another glance. Thankfully, he changes the subject, asking Reese more about the incident at school today.

After dinner is over, Cody and Ella do the dishes, and Reese takes my hand and leads me into the living room, thoroughly explaining everything I need to know in order to become a master at the virtual sim game called Super Suds Sub.

The game is magnificent. It’s not played on a regular TV screen, but rather in a digitally simulated world that completely surrounds you.

I stand next to Reese, with controllers strapped to each wrist, steering a giant, unwieldy vessel through an underwater universe as Reese uses his controllers to identify passing sea creatures.

The projected steering wheel in my hands has physical weight and resistance. The fish blow bubbles that float by my head, making popping sounds in my ears.

“Isn’t it cool?” Reese asks.

But I can’t even respond. It’s beyond cool. It’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.

We play again and again. Even Cody comes in and steers the submarine for a while and Ella stands in the back of the craft and plays a holographic piano, matching notes to color-coded keys to give us more fuel and make us go faster.

After a while, I excuse myself and sit on the couch, watching the Carlson family of three moving around an invisible underwater landscape. From this angle, outside of the digital projection, it looks rather ridiculous. Cody maneuvering a steering wheel that doesn’t exist, Ella tapping her fingers rhythmically on invisible air, and Reese dancing with an imperceptible dolphin.

Cody emerges from the underground kingdom a few minutes later. “Take over command of the ship, Captain,” he calls back to Reese, and disappears into the kitchen to refill his wine. I follow him and he asks me how I’m holding up.

“Fine,” I say. I gesture toward the living room. “He reminds me so much of you.”

Cody smiles, sipping his wine. “It’s funny. I see myself in him more and more every day. It’s strange when you have a kid. Because they pick up so many of your personality traits without even trying. It’s buried in their genetic code…” His voice trails off and his gaze darts from me to his wineglass.

I’m suddenly curious. “Are you saying personality gets passed down in your DNA?”

Cody glances anxiously toward his wife and son in the next room. It’s the first time we’ve talked about who I am since I let him watch my memories. “W-w-well…” he stammers, keeping his voice low, “that’s, you know, the common belief. There are many theories. It’s hard to say.”

“It’s okay, Cody. You can tell me.”

He takes a deep breath. “Here’s the strange thing. They’ve found personality genes within the human genome. But you…” Once again, he looks too nervous to continue.

I raise my eyebrows to encourage him.

“Well, because your DNA was manufactured by a computer, without a parental source, I don’t know where your personality came from. You
should
technically behave like a robot. But you don’t. Which means you must have gotten it from somewhere.”

That’s exactly what Alixter told me. That it was believed I would behave like a machine. That I wouldn’t have much of a personality. But I did. And that’s why Rio had a change of heart about me. Why he agreed to help set me free.

So what went wrong? Where did my identity come from?

Was it possible the scientists were mistaken about where someone’s personality comes from?

“Dad!” Reese calls from the next room. “I can’t steer it on my own!”

“Coming!” Cody flashes me an apologetic look and then returns to the game.

I watch as their normal Wednesday carries on innocently through the night. As though the world is not crumbling to pieces outside the window. As though a dangerous superhuman from the future is not out there somewhere searching the city for me. As though there is nothing more important in life than a five-year-old and his game.

I attempt to soak in their laughter. Let it saturate my skin. Maybe somewhere, deep within me, it will settle and stick and weather the storm that I know is far from over.

I try to capture their happiness and swaddle myself in it, hoping it will help me create my own bubble. Like the one Zen lived in for so long. I use it to try to block out my thoughts, drain my mind, silence my fears.

So that I won’t have to wonder whether or not I’ll ever have this.

Whether or not I’ll ever be part of a real family.

So that I’ll never have to face the answer. The truth.

That, most likely, I won’t.

The harrowing reality of the situation hits me without warning. Collides into me like a planet.

This idyllic, carefree Wednesday night is borrowed. Temporarily on loan. It will never be mine. Because I will never be able to sit in a room and not wonder if someone is waiting on the other side of the door to take me away. I will never be able to listen to a child’s laughter without turning my other ear toward the too-silent night. I will never be able to sleep without dreaming of machines that saw your heart in half and scientists who want to surgically remove your soul.

In the end, no matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter whether or not I save Zen’s life, I will never be free of them.

Diotech will always be lingering outside my window.

Waiting for me to reveal myself.

While Cody and his family are still distracted by their game, I quietly rise from the couch and steal down the hallway to the guest room. I creak open the door and slip into the darkened room, lit only by the soft white glow of Cody’s computer. I ease the door closed behind me, rest my forehead against it, and shut my eyes, listening to the reassuring sounds of Zen’s breath and the pulse of the machines monitoring his life.

Then, climbing into bed next to him, pressing my body as close to him as I can, I cry into the solid, unyielding surface of his cheek.

41

ASSAULT

Water pours into my lungs. Warm and stale. Tasting of flesh and desert dust. I have no choice but to let it in. Let it spread. Replacing air with liquid. Heavy, gasping breaths with silence.

I try. I really try. Thrashing. Kicking. My arms just above the surface, punching the air. But it’s useless. Nothing connects. My attacker is too quick. Too attuned to my limitations.

The fight is over now.

I open my eyes, struggling to see through the lingering ripples. The splashing has stopped. His face becomes clearer as the water settles. But still not clear enough. All I can make out is the determination in his eyes. The rage that contorts his features. The look of a madman.

His large hands continue to press against my shoulders. Pinning me to the hard surface of the bathtub floor. If I could speak I would tell him that he can let go now. I already have.

The light starts to flicker. The blackout is coming. I long for it. I welcome it with open arms. At least it will end this unbearable burning in my chest. This throbbing in my temples. That look in his eyes.

The shadows creep in, like a thick, heavy veil. I feel the pressure lift from my shoulders. His task is complete. My weightless body begins to float upward. Toward the surface. Toward the light.

As I break through, I see his radiant aquamarine eyes piercing the darkness and I know.

I’ve always known.

* * *

I wake tangled in the sheets and drenched in sweat. It would seem my morning routine has not changed since I left the Pattinsons’ farm.

Warming daylight streams through the window, illuminating the guest room of Cody’s town house, reminding me of where I am, of everything that’s happened.

Zen is still sleeping peacefully next to me, seemingly undisturbed by my nightmare and the thrashing that most likely occurred as a result. I wonder if Cody slipped Zen more of whatever drug he used to subdue him last night.

I climb out of the bed and tiptoe into the kitchen. The house is completely deserted. Zen and I appear to be the only ones here. In the kitchen, I find a plate of food sitting on the counter and a digital note typed next to it.

Went to the lab to run some tests.

Be back soon.

—C

I didn’t notice it last night but the countertop appears to double as a giant screen. I spend a few minutes playing around with it, marveling at its functionality. I can drag the note across the large surface with my fingertips, rotate it in any direction I want, make it bigger or smaller by pinching my thumb and forefinger together or moving them apart. I can layer it over photos and documents that are scattered throughout, creating virtual stacks.