The Dream Thief

by Leann M Rettell

  “Exactly, perhaps we have already lived a human life, and this is our eternity.”

  Malcolm couldn’t help laughing. “This is heaven?” If anything, it was hell—wanting food but being unable to eat, lust without release. It was an eternal punishment.

  “We never age, never get sick. We heal from any wound, and pain only lasts mere minutes. Ask humans, and they will tell you that is heaven.”

  “You say the ancient names are true. You have no way of knowing if those are our true names.”

  “They are our first memories. Waking up in our regeneration spots knowing only our name. If we didn’t have one, why would that be the only thing we knew when we were created?”

  There was no answer. There never would be. Who knew why they simply appeared one day out of nothing, fully grown, un-human, with the ability to speak every language, and with the knowledge of the history of the world, but with no memory of being part of it before that moment. This was way before humans recorded time other than markings on cave walls. It took centuries for them to find each other, and it took even longer to start writing down their own history and start the Cave of Scrolls.

  “Why are you calling me? Why now?”

  “Felt like the right time, brother.”

  His usual response would have been to roll his eyes, but this time Malcolm wondered, had someone or something really intervened? “Has Stephanie asked you to come here and meddle in my affairs?”

  A horn honked over the phone, wherever Obadiah was. Malcolm pictured him outside, sitting on a bench waiting on a bus. The sight left a strange tinge of contentment. The thick dark clouds above Avient Pharmaceuticals darkened further by the minute, a sure sign of a storm approaching, in more ways than one.

  “No brother, I haven’t heard from Aelia. Would you like me to call her? Or join you?” He didn’t mean come to Chicago and eliminate the target; he was asking if Malcolm wanted help. A wave of gratefulness and true sense of brotherhood settled over him like a warm blanket, and the monsters slipped into a deeper slumber.

  “No, not yet. You know what’s going on?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve asked my…friend to help. She’s human. Perhaps I should’ve gotten one of us, but it’s too late now. Except for what Aelia wants to do.”

  “Yes, I heard. Very unfortunate.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s kills me that my only option is to let Debbie do all the work. I’ll be waiting around.”

  The growl of a diesel engine roared through the phone. “My ride is here, but your solution is simple. There is enough tech in this day and age that you could rig her up with it and be right with her the whole time through cameras and microphones.”

  Malcolm pondered his words. Realizing the brilliant idea of using technology to be able to assist Debbie. “That’s a great idea. Thanks.”

  “Glad I could help. Good day, brother. Call if you need me.”

  “Wa—”

  The line went dead.

  Malcolm stared at the phone, feeling like an idiot for not telling him about Stephanie going crazy.

  21

  According to Debbie, the interview had been a slam dunk, which Malcolm assumed meant it’d gone well considering they gave her the go-ahead to start Monday morning. The two of them spent the rest of Friday and Saturday in bed, sometimes sleeping, most of the time not, with small breaks so Debbie could eat. He waited until Sunday to spring on her his latest plan with the cameras. As expected, she hadn’t taken it well, and she made him promise to fly them to New York as soon as this was through to see a Broadway play. It was the least he could do for forcing her to play James Bond and wear hidden cameras and microphones. She threatened evisceration if he made her look stupid, like she was talking to herself, or crazy.

  Getting the cameras ready took longer than expected, but at least he’d thought to order them right after his conversation with Obadiah. Omar had also pulled a few strings to get everything they needed set up and working before Monday morning.

  Malcolm listened and watched from the hotel room while Debbie completed HR training. She yelped as he spoke into her earpiece during a bathroom break.

  “Hey gorgeous!”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Her hand flew to her chest.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, where did that come from?”

  “Okay new rule.” She whispered, her words laced with venom. “Turn this crap off when I go to the bathroom!”

  "Why? Worried I'll hear you fart?"

  "I'll cut you off." The toilet flushed, and her body moved at an awkward angle as if she was trying to avoid him seeing into the toilet. Geez woman, just because I don't pee doesn't mean I don't know what it looks like. But he chose not to say it. She washed her hands then looked into the mirror. Pretty, as always, but she didn’t look like herself. Her lips pressed into a thin line with a scowl etched on her forehead.

  Distraction, he decided, was key in this moment. “My eyes are closed. Are you done yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Next you’ll be seeing Dharma.”

  “I know, and I know what I’m doing. Stay out of my head. I’m already nervous.” She stopped mid-sentence when the door opened. He saw Debbie touch her ear pretending to be talking on an earpiece. Debbie flashed a smile at the elderly black woman who came in, and when the woman disappeared into a stall, Debbie gave him an evil look through the mirror.

  The HR man took Debbie down to the subfloors. The equipment flickered during the elevator ride, but as soon as the doors opened, the sound and video popped right back up on screen. Omar assured them the signal could penetrate through the depths of the ground, but Malcolm hadn’t been positive and bet the man a steak dinner it wouldn’t work. He owed Omar that steak dinner after all. “We’re a go,” he whispered into the microphone rigged up to Debbie’s ear, disguised like an earring. The tech was so fancy no one else could hope to hear him, but he whispered anyway. Debbie’s head moved in a slow up and down movement, letting him know without her speaking that she’d heard him loud and clear. Clear, anyway.

  Dr. Knight’s lab held more natural light than the over-bright fluorescents that filled the rest of the subfloor. He supposed this benefited the plants she experimented on. Each green growing tree, bush, or flower looked like a hidden monster to him. He knew this misconception was due to his knowledge of the future, and it’d be stupid to think that plants, by themselves, were evil. But then again, one of the little devils would destroy the world with the help of Dharma Knight.

  Said destroyer sat with her back to Debbie. The blond woman’s hair sat atop her head pulled back at the nape of her neck in a messy half bun, as if she’d worn it down and then pulled it back in haste. She focused on various soil samples laid out in a series of slides on the table beside her. The computer on the desk ran through what looked like a series of complex mathematical equations. Debbie inspected the lab. The little video monitor showed three main rows of plants on raised tables running down the length of the room, a good twenty-five feet. Dark rich soil filled each table and plants in different stages of growth had been divided by a white rope.

  To the front, the work stations held various computers, filing cabinets, microscopes, and some other contraption that Malcolm had no name for the first time he’d been there. He’d searched for it online after he left. It was called a SPECT microscope—some high-tech gizmo that allowed one to see things at the molecular level. Dharma also had ways to examine the genetic structure of the plants, but Malcolm had no idea where or how she did such a thing. He hadn’t been aware that gene mapping had been going on until this mission. Sure, he’d heard of it from time to time on the news, but he thought it’d been only for humans and something about a cloned sheep. He’d had no clue scientists worked on it for other species.

  A young, brown-haired man looking no more than twenty-two sat at another desk, not paying anyone the least bit of attention. He wore blue scrubs, same as Dharma. He bent over some sort of plant. The vile thing had bee
n stripped from the soil, and its roots hung like disemboweled intestines. Earbuds nestled inside the man’s ear canals. He sliced the roots into tiny pieces and placed them on slides and petri dishes. At the third and final desk sat an older woman flipping through slides on the microscope like a pro. She tossed a strand of still dark hair threaded lightly with silver behind her. She glanced up at Debbie with a severe expression spreading over her olive-skinned face. Her whole demeanor screamed no nonsense.

  The HR man cleared his throat, snapping both Malcolm and Debbie back to the present.

  “What is it?” Dharma barked, without looking up.

  “I’m sorry to bother you Dr. Knight, but I’ve brought your new assistant.”

  Dharma swiveled on the chair with microscopic glasses perched on the end of her nose. There was a light attached to the strap around her forehead, and Debbie turned her head away, shielding her eyes. “Yes. Debbie. I remember. Sorry about that.” Dharma turned off the light and removed the glasses. “Done with all the paperwork already?”

  “Yes, Doctor.” Debbie’s voice rang out, sounding slightly strained. He couldn’t believe it. Dharma intimidated her. He wondered if it was because she was going to doom the world or because she was an intelligent, driven woman.

  Dharma’s face relaxed in a smile; the first Malcolm had seen. It lightened her face, making her appear her real youthful-self. The smile stripped away the severe mad scientist, and left her, well, human. His earlier considerations of terminating her roared their ugly head. The guilt shamed him. Dharma slipped off the chair, taking Debbie’s hands, “Did you have a nice weekend?”

  “Yes, it wasn’t bad. You?”

  “I came in for a bit but was able to take Jamie to the park.”

  Malcolm chimed in over the headset. “Jamie? Who the hell is Jamie?” He missed what Dharma said to the HR assistant, but during the distraction, Debbie looked into the mirror hanging behind Dharma’s desk, she shook a quick “no” at him. He got the picture, stay out of her head. Observe, but back the hell off. The look said take notes and I’ll tell you later.

  “First things first. I run a tight ship in my lab. Most people don’t think about it, but plants can get bacteria and funguses. I don’t need any of my babies getting your germs. Not yours nor anyone’s. Street clothes are off limits. We have these boring scrubs and lab coats for you to wear while you are here. They stay here and do not go home. I have told HR and frankly the CEO, but they ignore my orders and come in here wearing whatever.”

  “Oh, okay.” Debbie’s voice tilted with a splash of happiness. Scrubs and lab coats weren’t her usual airy, gypsy attire, but she would take anything over business casual clothes. She asked, “Can I wear tennis shoes?”

  “Yes, except you’ll have to wear booties. I wanted everyone to wear surgical caps, but let’s say I was told in no uncertain terms that no one would work here anymore if I pushed that one. So, no surgical caps. Yet.” She turned her head with the last word adding a wink.

  He caught Debbie’s smirk in the mirror. He couldn’t believe it! Debbie liked Dharma. How was she ever going to sabotage her when she liked her? Leaving the lab, Debbie followed Dharma through the overly white halls to the back part of the lab. She pushed open a tan door. Everything inside the locker room had a faded-out appearance. The same tan color surrounded the room along with little lockers about three feet high, one stacked on top of the other. Two wooden benches lined the center of the room, and bathrooms were on either side. Built-in shelves lined the left side and held pale, baby blue scrubs. Dharma led Debbie to the shelves, pointing a finger. “Small is at the top, medium next, then large, extra-large, and at the very bottom a few 2X. Though I doubt you’ll need those.” Dharma twisted and pointed to a row of boxes on top of one of the lockers, “Over here are the lab coats and booties. You can change here. We’ve given you locker number twelve. Your key is in the lock. Keep that with you. At the end of the day, you’ll throw the used clothes in this blue bin. Wear a new pair each day or if you leave for lunch. Speaking of which, did you bring anything?”

  “No, not today.” Debbie gazed around the locker room.

  “We have a cafeteria on the second floor. Employees get a ten percent discount. Not that the food is fabulous, but the onion rings are pretty spectacular. If you bring your lunch, there is a small break room on this floor.”

  “Oh, I saw it. The man from HR showed me before he brought me to you.”

  “Good. Debbie, do you live far?”

  “No, I’m pretty far at the moment, so I’m staying with a friend until I can move closer.”

  Dharma nodded, looking at a watch on her wrist. “How about you run out and get some lunch. If you don’t live that far, you can switch out your shoes. Most of us come in jeans and t-shirts. You might want to keep something like that…” Dharma gestured to Debbie’s outfit, “in your locker though, like I do, for when we have meetings or if you have to run an errand or something. Be back at 1:30, then we’ll get started.”

  A little over an hour later, Debbie returned with tennis shoes, scrubs, a lab coat, and little booties on. Dharma introduced her to the other staff. Jerry was the young man with the iPod, and was working there while he finished his doctorate; he attended school once a week to touch base with his thesis advisor. Lynda looked strict, and, no doubt in her role as head lab assistant, she was, but she blurted out a teasing taunt when introduced to Debbie who laughed and gave a fast snarky reply in return without hesitation. The accountant, Celeste, a petite dark-haired woman who Debbie hadn’t seen earlier, shook her hand the firmest. Celeste kept track of how and where they spent all the funds. “We all want to thank your dad’s company so much for investing in us. I used to have to pinch pennies to get Dr. Knight what she needed, but now we’re home free.”

  The nasty demon of doubt bubbled up in Malcolm again at her words. Could he be responsible for the inevitable future, simply because he tried to stop it—a self-fulfilling prophecy, as it were? He prayed this wouldn’t be the case, but had no way to know.

  “As we discussed on Friday, your job will be to help any of us out.”

  “Okay. Um, can you tell me, in more detail, about each of our projects?”

  A smile played over Dharma’s lips and excitement danced in her eyes. Her passion for her work blazed bright for all the world to see, being both a blessing and, in this case, a curse. He hoped she wouldn’t be so blinded by it that she wouldn’t listen to reason if they needed to convince her.

  “We have many smaller projects, but our main babies that we’re working on, for at least the next year, are these. Triticum aestivum and Triticum durum. Aestivum is the main wheat plant grown in the US and is used for making flour. It’s commonly known as winter wheat. Their rate of growth from seed to harvest time is typically one year. With our genetic modifications, we’re working on cutting that time in half. Currently, it requires what is known as vernalization, or exposure to cold temperatures. I’m talking zero to five degrees Celsius in order for them to flower. We’ve blended part of the genome with spring wheat, which doesn’t require vernalization, and also produces less gluten, making a very nice all-purpose flour. Right now, manufacturers have to mix winter and spring wheat to produce all-purpose flour. Winter is too hard, and spring wheat is softer for cake flour.”

  She moved to a section of wheat plants in a different row of planters, not that Malcolm could tell much difference. “We’re also working with Triticum durum or hard wheat, which is used to make pastas. In all the wheat species, we’re trying to build in another series of genes that will cause a complicated course of biochemical reactions to convert their natural sugars to sucralose. It's the same molecule as Splenda. This will lower the glycemic index, making it a nice substitute for diabetics while still keeping the protein-rich portion. Right now, diabetics should limit their consumption of carbohydrates. If we are successful, then they will now be able to enjoy breads, pastas, and other baked goods for only a fraction of the carbs. Even in non-diab
etics, this food will be beneficial in helping maintain a healthier weight. Lowering the obesity rate in industrialized countries will decrease overall deaths, cardiovascular disease, and cancers.”

  Dharma ran her hand almost lovingly over the green leaves and stalks of her plants. She moved over to the next row of planters. “This is our corn plant, Magnoliophyta Mesangiospermae. The major species used in making corn syrup. In case you didn’t know, this was originally designed as a replacement for sugar and adding moisture to baked goods. Then it was processed to make high fructose corn syrup, and well, if you have been around at all in the last few years, you’ve heard how bad of a rep that has been getting. We’re trying to make it faster growing and more resistant to bacteria. At this time, corn produces an antibiotic substance known as dimboa, but it declines as the plants reach maturity. We’re modifying them to keep this throughout their lifetime. This one will remain the same as far as glucose index because we’re hoping to sell this worldwide, making it able to grow in a multitude of environments and conditions to decrease world hunger.

  “We’re doing similar things with our wheat plants. At some point, we estimate the food supply will have to be replaced when obesity levels are again on the rise, but this time in third-world countries. Eventually, we’re going for the sucralose versions worldwide and have plans to modify rice once we get the wheat and corn finished. But that is after we have ended world hunger. As nations thrive, we will already be prepared to intervene, halting obesity.” Dharma finished with gusto. Malcolm again admired her ambition, not that he followed everything she said, in fact, he may have lost focus for a little bit somewhere in the middle. He was glad he had decided to record all interactions in the lab to review later. He only wished the outcomes of the experiments would be as pure-hearted and well-intentioned as their creator, but he knew better.