Sequence

by Darren Wearmouth

  Tucker, to his credit, was doing a good job of buying time, but it didn’t help Jacob get out; they were right there in the damned doorway.

  “Nah, it’s okay,” Tucker said. “It was just an idea. Okay, grab your stuff and I’ll lock up behind you.”

  “Cool, thanks, Tuck. Just don’t breathe a word of this to Murphy, will you? I was supposed to have submitted this file to Gray and the board before they headed off this morning, but I forgot. Only came to me when I’d got home after my shift. It’s crazy how that works, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” Tucker snatched a quick glance into the room and seemed confident when he could no longer spot Jacob. “Sure is, but hey, with Gray’s research and stuff, perhaps that’s one area he’ll fix. It’d be cool to have a perfect memory, right?”

  “I think the doctor has loftier goals than that, Tuck, but yeah, it’d be good.”

  The young researcher finally turned her back and entered the room. Jacob instinctively pushed himself back against the wall, trying to be as small as possible. When he looked up, he noticed the smearing on the glass of one of the cylinders. Shit! He prayed she wouldn’t notice.

  She strode into the room, shivering, but remained focused on the end of the room and continued to walk past the cylinders, only hesitating a touch, making Jacob hold his breath and tense every muscle as though his very will could push her on past.

  But she stopped and looked back at Tucker. “Has anyone been in here after the last shift?”

  “What? No, no one that I know of. You’re the only one I’ve seen since everyone left for the night. Why?”

  “The monitors are on. I thought I’d turned them off.”

  “Must be that memory thing,” Tucker said with a nervous laugh. “Perhaps the party was on your mind, distracted you for a moment.”

  “Maybe,” she replied, heading toward the desk.

  Jacob worried that he might have left something on the screen that wasn’t supposed to be there. How could he have been so casual? With the amount of spy films he’d seen, he should have been slicker at this.

  A silent breath of relief eased from his lungs when the researcher switched off the monitors, grabbed a file from a desk drawer, and strode past Jacob. “I got it! Now maybe I can avoid Murphy’s lecture in the morning. You have a good night, Tuck.”

  “Hold on. I’ll see you out.”

  Tucker turned, letting the door close behind him. Not again, Jacob thought. This time he sprang from his position and grabbed the door before it could shut. Tucker looked behind him and mouthed the word, “Wait.”

  When the two had turned out of the corridor, Jacob finally left the room, resisting the urge to collapse to his knees from the tension and the cold. Thankfully the office area was a great deal warmer and the stabbing pains in his joints began to ease. In the distance he heard a door slam. A minute later Tucker came around the corner.

  “Dude, what the fuck was that?” Jacob said, wanting to punch Tucker’s stupid, smiling face. “You locked me in. I could have died in there.”

  “I’m sorry, I panicked, and before I knew it, Kerry was there. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, no thanks to you. Let’s get the hell out of here before anyone else decides to just appear out of thin air.”

  ***

  Jacob held his hands over the Ford’s meager heaters. He’d get more warmth from a panting dog. The radio station was set to some awful sports show. He reached out and switched it off as Tucker returned from locking the gate.

  The car’s dashboard was littered with old take-out food cartons and mega-gulp cups. His feet crunched against greasy burger wrappers.

  For someone who wanted to ‘fix cars like his pa,’ Tucker didn’t look after this one too well. Tucker slumped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. He checked the gear, switched on the headlights, and pulled away from the facility.

  As they drove down the gravel path that made up the road, a heavy silence developed.

  The Explorer’s lights cut a slice through the dusk, shining against the row of pines to the left and illuminating the scrubland to the right. Jacob had put his bike in the back. His sore legs were thankful he didn’t have to ride back in the dark; one never knew who might be watching.

  As they drove back toward the Fairfax Frontier, the only bar in town, Jacob stared at Tucker’s face in profile, then at his eyes in the rearview mirror. The similarity was undeniable. To double-check he glanced down at his SLR and flicked through the couple of shots of the cryo-tube.

  Both images were blurred, but there in the tube, staring back at Jacob, was the exact likeness of Tucker. They’d cloned him!

  The security man reached out to switch on the radio, but Jacob pushed his hand away from the controls.

  “Hey,” Tucker said. “My car, my rules, man.”

  “We need to talk, Tuck. I need to know this is definitely your last day. You’re not working out a resignation period, are you? You’re not going back for anything?”

  “No, I’ve quit, what’s this about?”

  “I just don’t think you should have anything to do with these people again. They’re bad news, Tuck, real bad news.”

  “Look, I don’t go in for all that conspiracy stuff. I don’t mean no offense, I know that’s kind of you and your pals’ gig, but I believe what I can see, you know?”

  “It’s what I saw that worries me. In the cryo-lab, they’re…” How the hell could he get it across without activating Tucker’s conspiracy-theorists-are-nuts buttons?

  “They’re what? If they’re freezing organs and stuff, I get it. It’s Gray’s thing. It don’t bother me much. If it’s good for us, then why worry about it?”

  They left the gravel track and headed onto the turnpike that led to the Frontier. The road was straight as an arrow for the next nine miles and not a single car could be seen, yet that didn’t stop Jacob from looking in the mirrors to ensure they weren’t being followed.

  “They’re not just working on organs, Tucker. It’s well beyond that. Well beyond what even I thought they were doing.”

  “You found your evidence? Proof they killed your friend?”

  “Not yet, Tuck, but there was something else. I really think you ought to see this, but probably best if we wait until we get to the Frontier; you might need a drink.”

  In truth, it was Jacob that needed a drink, especially one served by a particular barmaid. He needed a friendly face right now.

  “Fine,” Tucker said, still oblivious to the gravity of the situation. “But in the meantime we’re having the radio on so I don’t have to listen to any more crazy theories.”

  He switched on the radio. An inane voice blared out some pointless opinions on some college football drama.

  Ten minutes later they pulled up outside the bar.

  Tucker swung the Explorer into an empty space in the parking lot. The old pink neon sign flittered intermittently, casting flashing light onto the hood. One of the local drunks staggered out the door and nearly slipped on wobbly legs. The sound of REO Speedwagon blared out behind him before turning to a low rumble as the door closed.

  Tucker turned to open the door.

  Jacob grabbed his arm. “Tuck, wait, you need to see something first.”

  “Aw, man, I just want to grab a bite to eat. Can’t this wait?”

  “No. Look at this and tell me what you see.”

  Jacob pushed the SLR to Tucker’s chest with the LCD screen showing his doppelganger in the cryo-tube. It took Tucker some time to realize what he was looking at. His eyes grew wide and then squinted as he scrutinized some fine detail.

  “Wow,” he said. “You’re telling me Gray’s freezing people?”

  Jacob shook his head. “Not freezing them, creating them. And not just any people. Don’t you see a resemblance?”

  Surely he could recognize himself, Jacob thought. Despite the image being a bit out of focus and the smeared frost on the screen making fine details hard to ascertain, it was still so clearly
Tucker.

  “Should I?”

  “Look closer.”

  Yet another shrug before Tucker handed back the camera. “I don’t understand. What are you suggesting?”

  “Jesus Christ, Tuck! It’s you, for fuck’s sake. They’ve modeled you. What’s there to not understand? Look at it. How can you not see it?”

  “It’s… someone, I’ll give you that. It ain’t me.”

  Jacob couldn’t believe it. The comparison was indisputable, but then he’d seen this delusion before: his mother’s refusal to admit his father was a drunk and a cheat.

  “I can’t convince you if you can’t see it with your own eyes,” Jacob said. “Despite that, you have to admit, Tuck, that making clones of people isn’t right. You think the government and human rights organizations would give the green light for such a thing?”

  Tucker just stared out of the window. Jacob let the silence stretch out, hoping it would allow the burly guard to use his brain instead of his brawn to see what was literally staring him right in the face.

  “I’m not so hungry after all, Jake. I think I’m going home.”

  “Tucker, you have to believe me, Gray and his people are evil. I really don’t think it’s safe for you here. Do you have some family out of state you could go to?”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m nobody.”

  “I’m serious,” Jacob said, trying to reach some inner part of Tucker, some part that would understand the danger he was in. “Just go somewhere, anywhere, let this all blow over.”

  Tucker turned to Jacob and smiled. “I like you, Jacob, but you’ve spent too long reading conspiracy theories online. Your friends have fed your paranoia for too long. I’ll be fine, really.”

  Tucker leaned over and opened the passenger door. Jacob waited, trying to think of something to say to warn Tucker, but if he couldn’t even recognize himself right there in a photo, what hope did he have?

  As Jacob left the car, he dipped his head back inside and said, “I tried, I really tried. Even if you think I’m a crank, consider running, getting out of town. Even if there’s a one percent chance I could be right, you have to take it.”

  “Uh-huh, thanks, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m tired. Don’t forget to get your bike out of the back.”

  That was that, then, Jacob thought. At least he’d tried. He closed the door, took his bike out of the back, and watched Tucker reverse out of the lot and into the darkness.

  If Jacob followed his mother’s beliefs, he’d say a prayer for him, but he didn’t. Instead, he hoped he’d survive long enough to see sense and run.

  Jacob placed his bike behind the dumpster and headed into the bar.

  He really needed a strong drink.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  6:30 p.m., Day 1, Washington State

  Surveying the generically dressed business people around the room, Gray couldn’t help but think his synthetic creations were superior, or at least more equipped for the future, with purer motivations.

  Both species would be the benefactors of received opinions and information; the key difference was the rate of evolution. With improved communication and storage capabilities, the synthetics would quickly advance.

  Where they’d leave Homo sapiens, he admitted, wasn’t really a concern of his. They were the past. Living dinosaurs.

  A number of hands shot up to ask a question. Devereaux pointed to his left. “You, sir, the gentleman with the green paisley tie.”

  “I’ve got to say, I’m finding this a little difficult to believe. How is it even possible?”

  “I’ll take this one,” Gray said. “What’s so hard to believe about it? Science has been moving in this direction for a decade. There’s nothing unusual about a BCI. Genome manipulation has been carried out for years; you’ve probably eaten genetically modified crops, their sequences altered to withstand adverse weather or certain pathogens. Have you heard of Snuppy the dog or Dolly the sheep?”

  “I’m still not getting you.”

  Gray breathed out heavily. “The point is, with new information-storing biopolymers, we can improve the existing framework and wipe out all of the hereditary weaknesses and faults. This capability brings in a new trait to the existing build. We don’t have to deal with that. We just take the best parts and transcode them with our next generation-sequencing tools. Does this answer your question?”

  “Not really, I was talking about the clones—”

  “They’re not just clones,” Gray interrupted. “I haven’t simply created a genetically identical copy of an existing human. The breakthrough is in the XNA integration.”

  “So what are the differences?” somebody shouted.

  Devereaux stepped forward, in line with Gray. “In field trials to date, we’ve tested the synthetic human to a performance level to around ten to twenty percent better strength and durability than their non-XNA-chipped equivalents.

  “Imagine you are bidding for a large infrastructure project. How many more clients do you think you’d gain, or keep happy, with a ten-percent increase in productivity? Your staff costs would also be significantly lowered, and our boys won’t join a union. You’re also buying loyalty.”

  “This was the point I was getting to,” Gray said, raising his voice. “DNA is constantly mutating; we can’t do anything about that. XNA is effectively alien to a lot of corruptive strains. We can deal with unknowns as they come along. One thing I cannot give you is concrete information because we have no historical data. You can be assured that XNA-enhanced humans will not have genetic-based diseases, and the evolution process is ongoing. I think we should be talking about the short-term benefits…”

  “What kind of evolution? How many of these things have you got? Who knows about them?” a woman shouted from the back corner of the room.

  “Who’s that?” Gray whispered.

  Devereaux ignored his question. “I’ll take your queries in turn. XNA Industries is striving to create the best possible products to suit you. If you provide the right kind of investment, we’ll focus our research and development team on your project. In terms of numbers, we have eight synthetics at the facility and a number on field trial with an influential agency.”

  One of the main reasons why Gray targeted Devereaux in the first place was his friendship with the director of the NSA, Leonard Hatfield. Their connection stretched back to their college days. After researching potential investors, it stuck out like a beacon.

  Possible direct access to a government agency through an old friend and business partner: it was perfect for his plans. Bring them in early while keeping the approach low-key.

  “Only eight? You don’t sound like you’re in a position to roll this out, even if you get permission,” the lady replied to murmurs of approval.

  “Actually, it’s not that difficult to ramp up our operations. We have room to expand our current overseas facilities and have other properties around the world available for use. It’s really not that hard to get your hands on the resources to do this, but you need the technology and understanding to make it happen. That’s our secret,” Gray replied.

  “No, but you can’t create these things overnight, can you?” the woman said.

  “These things, as you put it, are flesh and blood, the same as you. Of course they can’t be created overnight, but they can be created to your specifications, we’ve already worked through a number of iterations.”

  “Iterations? What exactly do you mean?” an angry man’s voice from the back row shouted. “If one of your synthetics wasn’t up to scratch, did you melt him or her down, then try again? Come to think about it, you didn’t just stumble across the perfect form; what kind of experiments took place?”

  “I want to know what he means by ‘receiving data.’ I thought he said they were flesh and blood,” another voice called.

  Although his exterior was calm, inside Gray was fuming. Naturally, he’d had to experiment to get to a stage where the creations could be showcased. The earlier part of the p
rocess at the structural and organism level was easy to cope with, but as the synthetics became more real, so did the horror of his failures, which only made him more determined to get things right. He didn’t like to be reminded of it, and he certainly didn’t like his integrity questioned.

  “What the doctor means is,” Devereaux said, “we have a strong ethical approach. Sure, during any technical creative process, you don’t always come up with the perfect design out of the gate. But we were confident with our techniques and it didn’t take long. I can assure you that nobody suffered.”

  Apart from Gray.

  Devereaux clearly hadn’t considered what he’d inflicted on Gray through the constant pestering through phone calls, emails, and turning up uninvited to the Alaskan facility, during which time he’d stomped around, asking questions.

  All it would take was a buy-in from a global giant, and Devereaux’s purpose would expire. The plan would be implemented regardless. Gray just didn’t want him on his shoulder once XNA Industries gained traction.

  “What kind of sums are you asking for?” asked an older man from the front row. “I don’t see any short-term return on investment, even if you can distribute.”

  “I’m glad you’ve inquired, Mr. Wilson,” Devereaux beamed. The head of Northern Technologies was a main target. “It really depends on what you want from us. If it’s a product, we’d start working immediately on a solution, on receipt of a conditional purchase order from you. We want to take away the element of risk and ask for no up-front money. Just a commitment based on successful approval from official channels.”

  “And if I want to try out your robots?”

  Gray bit his lip at the slur of the term ‘robot’; the bait had been cast, and now they seemed to have a big nibble.

  “We’d supply you with four XNA-enhanced humans on a trial basis,” Devereaux said. “We would regularly monitor their performance and ensure their welfare is being taken care of. Again, the same applies. No up-front costs, just a conditional PO with the same constraints attached. I understand the main concern might be a government blockage, which is why, as said previously, we have two on trial with an official agency.”