Spirits of the Earth: The Complete Series: (A Post-Apocalyptic Series Box Set: Books 1-3)

by Milo James Fowler

  "Why not bring all three of us here?"

  "You are my only objective, Enforcer Chen. Other security personnel were tasked with escorting Erik Paine and Arienna Dogan, just as additional units were tasked with escorting the other seventeen members of the Twenty."

  Drasko's headshot must have interfered with Erik's reprogramming, causing the clone to revert to its original directive. That's the only thing I can attribute this change in behavior to.

  The aerocar touches down with a soft bump, and D1-436 cuts the engines. As the landing pad and the tower it's attached to begin descending into the ground, an eight-leafed plasteel aperture closes above us, shutting out the sun's light and heat. Sudden air jets strike the aerocar's exterior as beads of neon blue along the walls and ceiling illuminate what's now an underground hangar.

  Once we stop moving, the artificial wind ceases, and a message pops up on the aerocar's console: WELCOME TO FUTURO TOWER — DECONTAMINATION COMPLETE. Turning to face me, the clone punches the manual release for the cockpit doors, and they both float upward.

  "I will hold onto this for now." It keeps the shocker in its left hand. "Please exit the vehicle and make your way to the elevator."

  Why do I get the feeling I'm your prisoner?

  I watch the clone's dark eyes for any sort of response after sending that thought toward it. D1-436 just stares blankly back at me. The blood on its face has congealed, but the head wound looks nasty and will require stitches. Assuming clones get stitches.

  Damaged ones might get recycled.

  I pause before stepping out. "Will I meet the Creator here?"

  The clone's face twitches into an awkward smile. "Yes. Once the Twenty have all been gathered, the Creator will meet with you to discuss your Ascension."

  That doesn't sound ominous at all.

  I climb out of the aerocar and make my way across the plasticon floor to a pair of polished elevator doors. The clone follows. Our footfalls and the tick-ticking of the aerocar's cooling engines echo throughout the otherwise silent hangar.

  D1-436 opens a covered keypad beside the elevator and enters a code I quickly memorize. Habit, I guess. No reason I'd need to remember it. My priority should be getting out of here, not getting back in.

  I stuff my hands into the pockets of Erik's jacket and step inside as the elevator doors slide open. The clone remains on the threshold as I pivot to face it. We make an odd pair: an injured clone and an out-of-uniform law enforcer.

  "This is as far as I am allowed to go," D1-436 says.

  My gaze wanders to Drasko's shocker in the clone's hand. Why did Drasko follow me into Dome 10? Watch your six, he said. Referring to himself, showing up out of the blue to shoot me in the back—or to someone else? He took out both security clones on the roof, made it down into the building, and somehow knew exactly where I'd be. That hologram-hidden room posed no obstacle for him. Makes me think he's been there before. And as crazy as it sounds, that Trezon guy might be an associate of his.

  What about Erik—why would he go there, knowing those were the types of people who'd tie him to a chair and beat the crap out of him? He said he wasn't a terrorist or a dust freak. But that place reeked of both.

  "You will be safe here." The clone's monotone is quiet, either trying to reassure me or itself. "We will not meet again, Enforcer Chen."

  "And here I was, almost beginning to like you." I palm the button to close the doors, and they slide shut, blocking the clone's injured stare.

  There are no other buttons on the panel, so I guess I'm just along for the ride. Alone with my thoughts as the elevator glides down the subterranean tower. Reaching the seventh floor, it stops automatically. The doors slide open, and I'm greeted with what appears to be a waiting room.

  Unlike the dusty, sun-blasted exterior and surrounding wastes, this space looks like any doctor's office you'd find in Dome 1. Spacious, well-lit, filled with a couple dozen white lounge chairs separated by glass end tables. On each table is a drink and a meal, most of them half-drunk and half-eaten by those reclining in the chairs. Their glazed eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling and their pleasant expressions tell me they're currently enjoying some sort of VR program. The Linkstream wouldn't be available outside Eurasia, so they must be linked-in to whatever VR is offered by this Futuro Tower.

  They're the Twenty, of course. Or the Seventeen, once I take a moment to count. I recognize half of them from that DNA search I ran, which started me down this winding path in the first place.

  Three chairs sit empty. I assume one's for me, one's for Erik, and one's for Arienna, wherever they are.

  The room has no doors or windows. Only the elevator as an access point. I step out onto the white tiled floor, my boots making their presence known. No one stirs or acknowledges me. I try clearing my throat. Nothing.

  "We have a new arrival!" One section of wall across the room slides aside to reveal a large screen, and on it, Dr. Solomon Wong himself smiles broadly, welcoming yours truly. Round-faced with shining eyes, there's no evidence as far as wrinkles or grey hair that he's old enough to be our grandfather. From what I've heard, he's the grandmaster of genetic manipulation, able to stop the aging process for those who can afford the treatments. And, of course, he created the security clones tasked with protecting the Chancellor and Governors, as well as their interests, across Eurasia. So Dr. Wong is no stranger to any citizen, though few have ever met him face to face. "Please, make Sera Chen feel at home, my children!"

  All at once, the eyes of everyone present snap into focus, locking onto me. The Seventeen rise as one from their comfortable chairs and walk toward me in their white bodysuits with friendly smiles frozen on their faces. Within moments, they have me surrounded.

  Instinctively, I retreat a step. The elevator remains open behind me, but I have a feeling it won't take me anywhere else.

  "Welcome, Sera Chen."

  "We're so glad you're here."

  "Good to see you, sister."

  Their voices merge together as everyone speaks at the same time. Then, realizing how overwhelming the situation must be for me, they laugh in a self-deprecating way and start apologizing instead.

  "You must have many questions."

  "We know, it's a lot to take in."

  "Come, sit down, let's get you up to speed."

  Two of them take me gently by the hand and lead me to one of the empty chairs. I allow myself to be led. No one seems to be in any sort of hurry, and there's no way to tell from the drinks and meals who's been here the longest. If the security clones were sent simultaneously to collect us from every dome, it stands to reason many of them could have been here since this morning.

  "Let's introduce ourselves," one suggests, and they start rattling off their names. On a good day, I might have remembered more than half, but not right now. There's too much going through my mind; I can't even begin to sort it out.

  I send out a telepathic question, hoping at least one of them will be able to answer: Why are you here? But all seventeen of them have functional augments, as evidenced by their VR activity when I arrived. None of them are aware they possess dormant supernatural abilities.

  And phrased that way, it sounds kind of crazy even to ponder such a thing.

  "Did he bring us here?" I nod toward the screen where the live-captured image of Dr. Wong beams at us like a proud parent, tilting his head to one side, then the other.

  "The Creator?" One of my siblings looks over her shoulder at the screen and nods serenely as if she's a devoted follower. "Yes, of course. We are so important to him, Sera. He has argued for years that we should be better protected, in case of a situation just like this one."

  "What situation?" I frown. "Martial law is in effect across the Domes. The terrorists have been contained."

  The Seventeen murmur among themselves, shaking their heads slowly at my ignorance.

  "Now that these dangerous individuals have brazenly acted out against the Governors, and attacked the Chancellor's own tower, they will
become emboldened. Today's uprising is only the beginning. It is foolish to think law enforcement can protect citizens from the hatred these so-called patriots have been stirring up in the outlying domes for years. Things will only deteriorate into more violence, going forward. We cannot allow ourselves to be caught in waves of unrest. We are the Twenty. There is no reason for us to remain in such a hostile environment."

  Sounds like she memorized that word for word.

  "So you just left Eurasia—flying outside the Domes into this forbidden zone and risking contamination?"

  "We are safe here, Sera." Three of them think it's a good idea to pat me on the arms and both shoulders. Like that will calm me down. "Dr. Wong knows what is best for all of us. He has seen the future and our place in it. The Domes have been governed by politicians and military-minded individuals from the start. It is time for science and logic to rule Eurasia. And we will rule alongside the greatest scientist who has ever lived!"

  Solomon Wong wants to usurp Hawthorne's throne.

  Drasko mentioned the possibility of a coup, but I dismissed the idea as a conspiracy theorist's nonsense. Now I'm not so sure.

  I can't allow myself to lose my cool. I'm a law enforcer, a professional. I know how to deal with irrational curfew violators. This easygoing bunch should be no problem.

  Taking a breath to steady my nerves, I dive in with, "Tell me about yourselves. Where are you from?"

  They take turns sharing, complete with smiles and coy little glances at one another. It's just as Erik said. All seventeen are from Domes 1 through 9, and those of us who happen to hail from the same dome never had an opportunity to run into each other, due to our strictly enforced alternating shifts.

  "What were your responsibilities, in each of your domes?" I put on a friendly mask that looks eager to get to know them better.

  By now the Dr. Wong screen has receded into the wall, but I'm under no delusion that we aren't still being monitored and recorded. This place has a clinical feel to it, and these people sure look like test subjects.

  I'm one of them now. Except for my attire and lack of augments, we're all in the same boat.

  Listening intently as they share their stories, I learn that my Dome 1 counterpart worked the day shift at an education camp, teaching the young. Arienna's night shift counterpart in Dome 2 shared her tree maintenance responsibilities along the dome's soaring plexicon interior. Erik's counterpart in Dome 9 was an agricultural planner, organizing the planting and harvesting of crops on a rotating schedule. The only dome not hosting any of the Twenty is Dome 10. For obvious reasons, having just visited the place.

  "Why have we been brought here?" I know what they're going to say. To keep us safe. But I need time to strategize while they repeat their pat answers. Seriously, they sound like they've been brainwashed.

  Maybe that's the purpose of the VR program they were enjoying earlier.

  How do I get through to them? How do you show someone the truth who has no frame of reference for it? With their neural implants active, they have no concept of the past. No citizen does. Only now and looking forward, that's the Eurasian way.

  So why take us out of Eurasia? Does Dr. Wong intend to expose us to the truth? That our parents were from an obliterated continent across the sea? How long ago did Wong have this facility built out here in the middle of nowhere—and for what purpose?

  We're on the seventh floor, but there are nine others. Ten floors. Ten domes. Connection?

  "Sera?"

  They're all staring at me. Probably because I'm staring at them, and I have no idea how long I've been doing that.

  "It's wonderful to meet you again. After so long apart." I force a smile. "Do any of you...remember growing up together as kids?"

  Here we go. Deep-diving into the truth. My first attempt is met with blank expressions and a few confused looks cast at one another. Then their responses cascade my way.

  "This is the first time we've ever been together."

  "All thanks to Dr. Wong!"

  "It never would have been possible without him."

  I feign my own bout of confusion. "But I was told by the security clones that Chancellor Hawthorne authorized our capture—" Wrong word. I try not to grimace at the mistake. "Collection, I mean."

  They look at each other and smile.

  "Would we have gone with them otherwise?"

  "Dr. Wong had to make it seem like an official act."

  "Once we arrived, he explained everything to us, of course!"

  In VR, I assume. But that won't work for me. "When do I get to meet him?"

  "Soon!" they cheer and laugh. "Once the final two members of the Twenty arrive, the Creator will reveal himself in real-time, and he will teach us everything we need to know about our Ascension."

  There's that word again, the one D1-436 used earlier. It's like they've all been programmed with the same phraseology.

  "Until then, Sera, let's get you a change of clothes and have you lie down."

  "You'll join us in VR, won't you?"

  "It's a wonderful program, Sera—you're going to love it!"

  They disperse, smiling back at me over their shoulders as they return to their padded lounge chairs. A girl named Lyria walks up to a nondescript section of the wall and places her palm flat against it. A drawer slides out, and from it she takes a white bodysuit and matching slip-on shoes. My new uniform.

  "Here you are, Sera." She hands them to me, neat and tidy like they were in the drawer. "You can change in that alcove, if you like."

  She nods toward another section of wall that doesn't look like an alcove at all to my unaugmented eyes. I nod, slowly taking the items from her, using the moment to slip into her mind and visualize what she's talking about. Then I nod again.

  Apparently, this room is full of hidden nooks and crannies, all accessible by touching various points along the walls. Visible to anyone with active visual implants. An augmented reality overlay would make it a simple matter to walk over to any spot and activate it. But I have to improvise.

  From Lyria's memory, I'm able to navigate a course to the alcove she mentioned. I place my hand flat against the far left wall. Instantly, an arch forms with a recessed space that curves to the right. Lit with a soft blue glow, the space provides enough privacy for me to pull off Erik's jacket and my black bodysuit, as well as my boots.

  I don't like the idea of leaving them in this space. Where will they go when I step out into the room again, and this alcove disappears? But I've got to keep up the illusion that I'm just another member of the Twenty sequestered here with my fellow chosen ones, awaiting our Ascension. So I pull on the white bodysuit, slip on the matching shoes, and head over to the empty lounge chair beside Lyria. She's the only one not relaxing in her chair and staring at the ceiling with glazed-over eyes.

  "You look ready to ascend, Sera," she welcomes me with a broad smile. No irony whatsoever in her tone. "But for now, we will congregate in the Promised Land while we await the Creator."

  "I'm guessing we're not on the Linkstream." I nod toward the others reclining blissfully.

  She shakes her head. "The Link pollutes so many minds in Eurasia. Here, we are cleansed and purified from its influence. There is no perversion or violence, no filth to revel in—committing unspeakable acts we would never consider in real life. Here, the virtual reality is on a higher plane. There's...joy, Sera." Her eyes tear up. "Warmth and acceptance like you've never known. Real love that you can bathe in." She giggles like a little kid. "I know, it sounds crazy. But you'll see." She rests her head, and her eyes lose focus, that big smile frozen in place. "So many wonders..."

  I lie back in my chair and try to keep my eyes to myself. Then I point them at the ceiling like everybody else and manufacture a goofy euphoric smile. But I don't see any Promised Land or wonders, and there's no love to take a bath in. Just white ceiling tiles to match everything else.

  A glance toward the elevator confirms that it's disappeared into the wall like that alcove d
id. But I still have a general sense of where both are located.

  I refocus my gaze on the ceiling, feeling like a complete idiot. Realizing my fists are clenched, I relax my hands.

  How the hell am I going to get these people out of here? How can I possibly show them the truth? Without an EMP to disrupt their neural implants, there's no way. They seem content to wile away the hours in a VR stupor while they await Erik and Arienna's arrival—followed by Dr. Wong himself.

  This Ascension they believe is going to happen—is it a political thing? Will Solomon Wong set himself up as Supreme Chancellor, then assign a pair of us to each dome where we'll replace the Governors?

  If what Erik said is true, Wong was responsible for the birth of every person here—as well as the thousand children he created from our cells, spliced with those of their adoptive parents. Not to mention the clones he invented in his image to act as the Chancellor's private security force. All along, they've apparently been wired to do Dr. Wong's bidding at the drop of a hat. Why would a scientific genius want to mire himself and his creations in politics?

  What grander scheme could he have in mind?

  Part V

  Restoration

  21 Shechara

  21 Years After All-Clear

  When I see him for the first time, all I can think is… He has his mother's eyes.

  "Erik, this is Shechara," his adoptive mother introduces us to one another as we stand in the bright, sunlit kitchen of their farmhouse. "She's here on that temporary transfer program. You know how the Dome 6 Governor likes to do, allowing his citizens to work in other domes for a while. She'll be with us for a couple months, helping out around the place."

  "Dome 6," Erik echoes, giving me a nod to acknowledge my existence but not allowing his gaze to linger. Particularly not on my mechatronic eyes. He's tall and broad-shouldered like his father, and handsome, too. "I wouldn't have guessed." He flashes me a smile and wink as he bites into a crisp apple.