The Empathy Gene: A Sci-Fi Thriller

by Boyd Brent

  When he regained consciousness, Martha was back on her chair and reading her book. David dared move only his eyes towards her. “You think your God would approve of this?”

  She put down the book, picked up a jug and filled a cup with water. She placed the cup against his lips. David shook his head and writhed in agony. “You will be rewarded for your suffering,” she said.

  “Re… rewarded. With what? Crucifixion?”

  Martha glanced at her Torah. “If I could swap … be in your place and do this for our Lord ... I would, in an instant. When God rewards you in heaven, then you will know. And you will remember my words.”

  “I don't deserve to suffer. Not like this.”

  Tears appeared in Martha's eyes. “You think our Saviour has not suffered?”

  “If I could help him, I would.”

  Martha reached for her Torah and hugged it to her chest, a look of awe on her face. “But you are. And you will.”

  David opened his mouth. And then closed it again. The door flew open and the man with the staff came in looking flushed. Behind him, Haystacks manhandled someone through the door – a captive covered by a blanket who wheezed like something inhuman. The man put down his staff, grabbed a chair and placed it in the centre of the room. Martha was ordered out. And the captive manhandled into the chair. Haystacks removed the sheet with a flourish to reveal a deformed and twisted creature with a hood over its head. It sucked furiously at the dry, hot air. The man with the staff turned to David. “This abomination fell as you said it would, close to where you fell. But as you can see it lives.”

  David observed the vessel sent to kill him. “You need to get him out of here,” he murmured.

  “Speak up!”

  “You need to get him out of here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if he gets a whiff of me it could spell the end of your plans.”

  “The abomination is no threat. As you can see, it is deformed. A cripple. It can barely stand.” He placed a hand on the hood covering its head. “I'm curious to see how it reacts to you.”

  David winced. “Don't do that.”

  The man glanced up at Haystacks. “Hold the abomination.” Haystacks wrapped his arms about the crumpled figure like he was giving it a bear hug. The hood was removed. A single eye gazed from a face of melted flesh. It focused on David. Man and computer programme from the future watched one other. David could almost feel the testosterone and God only knows what else being channelled into that hunk of twisted muscle. The next instant the vessel was on top of him, with Haystacks still wrapped around it. The bed collapsed and shrieks rang out but none as loud as David's. The vessel tried to rip out David's throat with its teeth but it had no teeth only gums. As it gave David a hickey, Haystacks was handed an iron bar. It took twelve blows before it finally slumped.

  Twenty one

  The crutches they'd provided for David were a good fit. They were supposed to be part of his cover – an injured relation of Christ in need of healing – but David needed those crutches. Once outside, he was to be taken through the streets of Jerusalem on a donkey. One of Peter's lieutenants, a small but vicious-looking man called Cain, was to ride tandem with a knife pressed to David's gut. Haystacks would walk beside the donkey, with a steadying hand on David's shoulder. Judas was to walk on the other side with the thirty pieces of silver in a pouch attached to his belt. These precautions against David trying to escape were unnecessary. His body felt as though it had been crushed, and any purposeful movement brought him only agony.

  Outside, the heat felt intent on cooking him. He was dressed in a black robe with a hood pulled low over his face. He could only see by tilting his head down and looking up. David threw back his head in an effort to remove the hood. The cry of pain from beneath that leper's hood drew sympathetic glances from passers-by. Judas yanked the hood back into place and helped him onto the donkey. Cain climbed on behind him, and David felt the edge of a blade against his stomach. Haystacks placed a hand on his shoulder and they set off. The blistering humidity was part of a trinity of new sensations for David. Happy, well-intentioned voices and activity made up the other two – cries of merchants selling their wares of clay pots and plates and jugs, fruit and fish and figurines carved from wood. The smells of spiced meats and cheeses made his mouth water. Chickens were packed into cages, and cats had gathered about them and looked on hungrily while dogs tethered to poles watched the cats. Mules and donkeys ferried people up and down the narrow thoroughfare. The white walls on either side were streaked with moisture, as if they too sweated. Above them windows were open and clothes fluttered on lines that spanned the thoroughfare, while children played hopping games below and old people played dice. Everywhere David looked, he saw kind, smiling faces. The sincerity of their laughter unlike anything he had ever heard – These people have an abundance of humanity – but many of those smiles vanished when they saw his party approach. The fear of a contagious man, or a reminder of the troubles brewing in their midst? The donkey felt strange under David, each step shunting him painfully left and right as its legs bore the weight of two men over uneven ground. The blade against his stomach cut into him whenever the donkey lost its footing.

  Two men stood outside a grand door. They wore uniforms that David had seen at the Coliseum back on Goliath, and had swords very much like the one he'd taken from Gull's previous vessel. Romans. The street wound its way up a gradient that grew ever steeper and every now and again David caught a glimpse of blue sky and hills where grand buildings shone white in the sunlight. Three Roman soldiers came around a corner on the heels of a man dressed in red robes with silver trim about the cuffs and neck. He wore sandals with broad straps that climbed to his knees, and held his nose high as if all about him were below.

  When at last they reached the top, they entered a terracotta city where the paving was flat and the buildings were ornate and spotless. They turned off the main thoroughfare into a side street barely wide enough for Haystacks to walk alongside the donkey. Judas was forced to fall back and walk behind. The alleyway came out into a square dominated by a white building with no windows and a small black door that looked like an afterthought. The square was packed with people – followers of Christ who huddled together in groups and spoke in muted voices. Around the edges of the square, Roman soldiers looked on impassively, their hands resting on the pommels of their swords. People rushed over to speak to Judas. Desperate for news of Jesus, they jostled and raised their voices. Some tried to get a look at the face of the sick man on the donkey, but were pushed back by Haystack's reaching arms. Judas told them to clear the way for a sick man. “A friend of our Lord in need of healing! A leper!” This information stemmed the crowd's enthusiasm somewhat. On either side of the building's small door, a centurion stood guard. Beyond that door the man who many believed to be the Son of God awaited.

  One of the guards tapped on the door. A square the size of a man's hand opened and a face appeared. He cast his gaze over David and the men with him. The door opened and Haystacks lifted David down from the donkey. The crutches had been tied to the donkey's side, and Judas untied them and thrust them under David's arms.

  Inside, the corridor was lit by candles whose reflections flickered in mirrors of varnished copper on the opposite wall. David was led down the corridor to a door on the right-hand side. Inside, a Roman officer sat with his feet up on a desk. His eyes quickly found the purse dangling from Judas's hip. Judas unhooked it, stepped forwards and handed it to him. The officer felt its weight and released it with a thud onto his desk. The sound evidently pleased him. He smiled at David and said, “So this is the man.”

  “Yes Commander Saron,” replied Judas. He pulled David's hood from his face.

  Saron took his feet off the desk and placed his elbows on it. He stood up and walked around his desk and stood toe-to-toe with David. “The likeness is strong, and you have not exaggerated the injuries to his face.”

  “His injuries are similar to our Lord’
s. We made sketches.”

  “Very forward-thinking. You have a name?” Saron asked the badly beaten man before him.

  David's lips and tongue felt three times their normal size. With some effort he swallowed and said, “David.”

  “You are a relation of Jesus of Nazareth?”

  David shook his head.

  Saron looked at Judas. “A sense of humour?”

  Judas shook his head.

  Saron looked into David's barely open eyes. “You understand what is required of you?”

  “To die?”

  “To die on the cross. But you do this in the service of your Saviour?”

  “He is not my Saviour.”

  “Is he not?”

  “The choice has been made for him,” said Judas.

  David looked at Saron. “Are you going to murder an innocent man?”

  Saron rubbed his hands as though anticipating a win at the races. “If the gods have decreed that that is to be your fate, then who am I to argue? If you are still alive after thirty-six hours, I will instruct a guard to cut you down and remove your head. How does that sound?”

  “Like you're all heart.”

  “Sarcasm? I suggest you get him out of here before I start to like him.”

  Judas took hold of David's arm. “What happens when Jesus turns up alive and well?” said David.

  Saron looked at Judas. “Then this man and his followers can claim another of those miracles they're so fond of.”

  “Does that seem just to you?” Saron went behind his desk and sat down. He opened a drawer and dropped the thirty pieces of silver inside. “You think I care? You think anyone of rank or importance cares? The execution of one false prophet is the same as any other. I am assured the other is to be taken to the port at Jaffa and put aboard a boat headed east. And now I must get on. Leave him with your Messiah for thirty minutes. Then exchange their clothes and get out of my prison.”

  Twenty two

  David was assisted down a winding stone staircase. The ground at the bottom was covered with straw, as though animals and not people were kept here. A few candles burned, and between their pools of light the darkness hung like so many blankets. Doors ran down both sides of the oblong space, and a Roman guard stood before a wider door at the far end. The guard accompanying them led them to the door on the left-hand side.

  David looked at Judas and saw that his face had changed. He looked pale and his hand trembled as he drew it through his beard. “Wait … I must talk with Him first,” he said. The guard unlocked the door and told Judas he had three minutes. Judas slipped inside and closed the door behind him. David stepped towards the door, but could hear no voices within. The guard turned him around and severed the ropes that bound his hands with a knife.

  When Judas emerged, he looked like a man who hoped he'd done enough but doubted anything could be enough. The guard told David he had thirty minutes alone with his healer. David hobbled inside on his crutches, and the door closed behind him. A single candle flickered in the centre of the underground cell. There were two beds either side of it, pressed against the walls. A man sat on the bed to David's left. Only his legs and lap were visible in the dying candle light, hands interlinked as though in contemplation. David could hear the man's lungs drawing air sluggishly as though every breath hurt. He willed him to lean forwards into the light, but he did not. David made his way to the other bed on his crutches and sat down.

  The men faced one another, shrouded in darkness but for the tiny pool of light between them. Jesus separated his swollen hands and placed them on his knees. He said, “They tell me you fell from the heavens, and that we could be twins.” As if each had read the mind of the other, they leaned forward into the outer edges of the light. David looked at the beaten face of the man opposite, into eyes darkly ringed and sunken yet filled with compassion and suddenly… hope. It was a strong but kind face – a face eerily like his own. “Who are you?” he asked.

  The reply was so full of certainty that it bordered on hypnotic. “You know me.”

  David shook his head, shook away the certainty. “I've heard about you. I don't know you.”

  “I am the Son of the Father. Come to absolve mankind of all sin. Through me men will be delivered into paradise at the end of days.”

  “I fell from the end of days. And there is only darkness and suffering there.” Jesus nodded and leaned back into the shadows. “For those who don't seek my Father through me? Their fates are foretold in Revelation.”

  “A few thousand years from now nobody will even remember you.” Memories came to David. No. Not memories, but information that Gull must have discovered inside their duplicate of the Event Helix – seepage relayed to David by an over-enthusiastic tree. David listened to his thoughts for a moment and said, “People are going to kneel before images of your tortured body and worship an image of your suffering. They will light candles and engage in ritualistic acts: eat your flesh … drink your blood. Millions of innocent people are going to be tortured and murdered in your name. Is this what you intended?”

  “My message is love and forgiveness. The words you speak are abhorrent. They are the serpent's words.”

  “They are the truth.” Jesus lifted his legs onto the bed and hugged his knees to his chest. Time passed, and then in a voice laced with acceptance he said, “My Father has sent you with news of what might have come to pass. But your presence here … it has changed things.”

  “Why? Because you'll have more time? Time to make your message clearer?”

  “You are not here to provide me more time, David.”

  “Really? You're to be taken from here to a port at Jaffa, and placed aboard a ship headed East.”

  “That is what my followers have been led to believe … but, in truth, I am to be taken to a relation of Saron, a nephew who is gravely ill, and in need of healing. In return for this kindness, Saron has agreed to have me crucified tomorrow, but as a common man, and not as the Son of God.”

  “I said he was all heart. And what's that going to achieve?”

  “A final act of humility … of self-sacrifice, it will purify my spirit, and enable me to better guide the spirit of humanity towards my Father's kingdom … and amend the wrongs that you have brought news of.”

  The two men sat in silence for a time, and then David said, “That's how you interpret the reason for my being here? As an opportunity to die in obscurity? As a common man?”

  “It is.”

  “Are your followers aware of this?”

  Jesus sighed. “They would only attend my crucifixion, and worship me upon the cross as a subject worships a king. This can no longer come to pass.”

  “And how do you intend to hide it from them?”

  “My party is to be intercepted before we reach Jaffa. I am to be taken into custody, and crucified in obscurity on the morrow. Just as you are to be crucified in my stead.”

  “Listen to me. From my perspective, I cannot die tomorrow. If I do, then the spirit of humanity is going to die with me. I must survive to outlive a being without compassion … a hybrid of man and machine that seeks to usurp humanity.”

  Time passed again before Jesus replied, “You believe that you are the Messiah?”

  “Of course not. I'm just the last of my kind.”

  “The last?”

  “The last man to possess empathy, a conscience … and a desire to fight for what they stand for. And not for the promise of a reward in paradise.”

  “Why do you fight, David?”

  “Why? Because I believe, as did the millions of empathic and tolerant people who came before me, that the alternatives are unacceptable.”

  Jesus nodded. “I do not doubt the sincerity of what you believe, but you are here. In my time. Where men who desire the same are plenty. Therefore, your burden has been lifted.”

  “I wish that were true, but that's not how time works. I've seen it. Everything that ever occurred already exists, like a painting with many dimensions. Time
as we perceive it is just an illusion. So, the way I see it, it doesn't matter where I've been relocated to in this painting … I'm still the last.”

  “The way you see it.”

  “You think a humble death is going to alter how selfish and ambitious people behave centuries from now? People who will twist anything to suit their own ambition?”

  “I am the Son of God. With His help there is nothing I cannot achieve.”

  “And if you're wrong? If I die in your place and the light of humanity is extinguished forever?”

  At that moment the flame between them dwindled further. David watched and related to its struggle, willed it not to expire and plunge them into darkness. The candle clung to life somehow, as David had. “We are in God's hands,” replied Jesus. “Let His will be done.”

  The door opened and Judas and Simon entered. “It's time to exchange clothes, my Lord,” said Judas.

  Jesus stopped in the doorway, and over his shoulder he said, “Trust me, David. Things will be different now.” The door swung closed and the draft extinguished the candle.

  Twenty three

  David was alone in a cell and dressed in the bloodied, filthy robes of Jesus Christ. He sat on Christ's bed in darkness. I might as well see things from the Saviour of mankind's perspective. He interlinked his fingers as Christ had done and awaited some kind of what? Epiphany? A vision to show me a way forward? Maybe death will provide the way? No. That would see me exit the painting … leaving only Goliath at the end of days.

  A hand clasped his shoulder and shook him awake. “Get up. Sirius is waiting. It's time for your final rehearsal.”

  “Rehearsal?”

  The soldier grabbed a fistful of David's tunic and pulled him to his feet. He clapped his hands in irons and lead him from the cell. They went to the rear of the dungeon, where a sentry stood before an arched door. The sentry pounded on the door which opened to reveal two guards on the other side. David was led between them into an underground passage. The narrow passage rose on a slight gradient towards a speck of sunlight a hundred metres away. The speck grew wider and brighter until they walked under an arch and into an arena where soldiers were training in fierce sunlight. David raised his hands to his face and squinted at men slashing and parrying with wooden swords. He was led to the centre of the arena, where a man stood with his back to him. Sirius. Sirius was talking to four men with chains slung across their shoulders. One jutted his chin at David, and Sirius turned to face him. The commander of the prison guard stood with his feet pointing out and his thumbs in his belt like a pseudo king. He had no neck to speak of, and atop his massive shoulders sat a pale and doughy face whose large brown eyes twinkled sardonically. He threw his arms wide. “Behold the son of God!”