“Can I see her?”
“No. But you will see the others when you give birth—that is, before they’re taken away.”
Pretending to go along with the program was more difficult than I thought it would be. “I’m not having any more babies, especially now.”
“But you have to. It’s part of the plan.” He smiled. “Insemination will occur against your will, but we don’t want it to come to that, do we? Everyone else on the team has accepted the plan. You need to do the same.”
“What about Travel? Where is he?”
“The team is still having trouble convincing him that we did the right thing. He’s currently in isolation, but he’ll be moved back into his apartment by this afternoon.” He was lying. I wasn’t fooled by his sick words and fake charm. “He’s confined on the eighteenth floor for the time being.”
There was a ding and Dr. Pickford entered, his forehead shining and his eyes blinking wildly. “Sorry I’m late.” He threw an apologetic, yet worried look at Dr. Little. Dr. Little’s brow wrinkled like he could read Pickford’s mind, their personalities as synced to each other as their Liaisons, making me continually wonder whether or not the two men had been brothers in the past.
Anger swelled over the edge of my heart like a flood, throwing the team’s lies and deception like trash along a riverbank of disgust. “You can both go to hell.”
“That’s no way to talk to the men who are in charge of your future,” said Little, interlocking his fingers and resting them on his gut.
“You mean the men who are going to help Gifford make this the most influential region in the world,” I sneered, remembering the conversation I overheard in the hall. “What are you going to do? Deny them of fertile females?”
He chuckled. “Good guess. You’ve continued to prove you’re smarter than you look.”
Screw you! “When can I be discharged? I want to go home.” Home. This wasn’t my home. My home was a world full of hunger, disease, and other unpleasant conditions, but at least there we were free—free to love whom we wanted, free to have children with whomever we wanted, and free to keep them.
The seven deadly sins did not die with the plague, they just went into hibernation, waiting for the right moment to return, for Pandora’s Box, my cryonic chamber to reopen.
I was their Excalibur, the missing link to their salvation, and once President William Gifford had me under his jurisdiction, he couldn’t resist plucking an apple from the tree of knowledge and taking a bite. Travel and I were their Adam and Eve, but this was no Eden. There was no place like home, and clicking my heels together wouldn’t help.
“You can return to your apartment today if you like. It’s important that you return to a routine of normalcy.”
“Then I’d like to go now. I want to be there when Travel’s brought back.”
“I’ll make the arrangements.” Dr. Little tapped his L-Band.
“Actually, you won’t be seeing Travel, Miss Dannacher,” interrupted Dr. Pickford. “I just came from his cell. That’s why I was late. You see, um, he just asked for my permission to leave the program.”
“What?” Dr. Little appeared genuinely shocked, but Pickford had to be lying. Travel would never leave me—at least not like this.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” continued Dr. Pickford in a fake fatherly tone and a curled lip. “He asked for amnesty and the right to leave the project. He promised to sign a contract guaranteeing his silence, and I agreed, promising to compensate him for his contribution to the program thus far. He plans to leave the region immediately.”
“The region?” I tried to sound surprised.
“Yes, he needs time to think. He’s going to visit his brother in Region Three and then move to a non-disclosed location.”
“I don’t believe it,” I countered.
“Oh, believe it. You will not be seeing Mr. Carson ever again, but don’t look so sad. You still have friends. You have us.”
Oddly enough, Dr. Little sat there appearing as stunned me. He didn’t say another word as my plan of escape expanded into a plan that included not only Gifford but the demise of Dr. Pickford and Dr. Little.
“The arrangements have been made,” Dr. Little announced as he looked up from his L-Band. “You may go back to your apartment.”
The two men stood in sync, and as they left my room I heard Pickford say, “You’re needed on the eighteenth floor.”
Putting on the same pants I wore when I arrived in the delivery room gave me little warmth in a room chilled with deception and fear. The waistband snapped into place, readjusting to my slightly smaller size, but the front panel sagged and wrinkled, missing what it had stretched out to hold.
Kale and a SEC met me in the hall. She smiled and nodded, her cheeks puffing up like she was holding her breath.
“Cassie, it’s so nice to see you again.” She laced her stubby fingers together and gave me a slight bow.
“Thank you” was the only thing I could say.
My nose and cheeks felt oily, and the clean shirt against my sweat-caked skin felt as unnatural and awkward as leaving the hospital room without my baby. I was so sore from giving birth that my first steps were like that of an old woman, hobbling in pain, making anyone who saw Kale and me walking side by side think I was doing a cruel imitation of her stride.
I focused on the audible rhythm of her walking and tried not to think about Travel, who was suffering somewhere within the walls of GenH1, but it was impossible. With each blink, my lashes batted tears down both cheeks.
“A MED’s going to be stationed in your room with orders to dispense a limited amount of pain reliever to you at your request. It’ll also record the times in which the pills have been given and once their effect has expired, it will ask you if you need another dose.”
“So, it’s going to stay in my apartment?”
“Yes, it’s customary during any home-recovery period.”
“Great,” I scoffed. I decided once again that I hated bots, all bots. They were spies, ready to report and record my every move once I was home. At least I was free of the SEC watching my every move. It was relieved of its duties now that I wasn’t with child.
Kale laughed. “Think of it like a piece of furniture, a piece of furniture that’s there to help you.”
MEDs were not as human-looking as the RELAX units, but they were engineered to pacify and appease, ease and relieve. That literally was their motto. The heads of MEDs were capped with short, synthetic hair that was glossy enough to be mistaken for curls of metal string. When they spoke, their vinyl faces stretched in ways that human skin never could, and despite their realistic, faux irises, the dead look in their eyes made it clear that there wasn’t a brain of flesh mounted behind their plastic eye sockets.
“It’s only for a few days, and then the MED will be relieved of its duties.”
When we reached my apartment, she put her hands on her hips and said between breaths, “We should have taken a two-occupancy hoverchair.” She placed her hand on my back and divided her weight between both legs, taking a stance that reminded me of a rooted tree.
“No, I needed to walk. Walking helps me think.”
“And you have a lot to think about.” She patted my shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about things, too, and there’s something I want you to know—your baby has given me and this world new hope.” Kale’s globular face and globular words were so nurturing and motherly that for a moment I actually smiled.
“Now my children, and their children,” she continued, “will live in a world full of optimism instead of fear. Without you and Victoria, we’d be hit with another plague, the plague of anarchy. That’s our fate if we lose you: anarchy and then extinction.”
“I know, but—”
“I understand how you must be feeling right now, but in time, your heart will heal. I believe that, and you need to believe that, too.”
But she didn’t understand. She was incapable of understanding, limited by her inability t
o procreate. I knew right then that I couldn’t trust her.
“Thank you. I feel better now,” I lied.
“If you need anything, you give me a call.”
After a brief hug, she wobbled down the hall, and I entered my apartment and flopped down on the bed.
Chapter Twenty
“So, what brings you here?” I asked Dr. Little as I stood in my doorway later that day.
“Many, many, many things,” he said. “Can I come in?”
“I guess. You don’t have Claus with you, do you, or is he stuffed in your pocket? Because he’s not welcome here.”
“Rest assured, he’s not here.” The doctor laughed and his gut shook.
He complimented me on my quick recovery, and I told him I missed Travel and wanted to see him. He praised me for my contribution to the world, and I told him I missed Victoria and wanted her back. Both of my controlled rants were met with nods, and a, “Yes, I understand how you must be feeling right now, but we are not able to fulfill your requests.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Unfortunately the nature of my visit is to deliver some bad news.”
Bad news? What could be worse than what I’d already experienced?
“I regret to say that…” He paused and shook his head. “That Travel is no longer with us.”
My stomach dropped. “What do you mean no longer with us? I know he left the program. You already told me that.”
“What I mean is that Travel is dead. Such a waste, such a waste.”
“What? I don’t believe you.” I spoke in a harsh whisper. He had to be lying. This was another part of their game, another deception used to break my spirit and keep me tame in the world of clones.
Dr. Little was composed, well-rehearsed. His shoulders lifted and dropped back into place as if he were giving a salute instead of a one-sentence eulogy. With a stiff neck and eyes that didn’t blink, he said, “Oh, but you must believe. You see, he never made it to Region Three. The private mover in which he was riding malfunctioned. First it exceeded its hoverment, and then it collided with an unmanned supply transport. He died on impact. There was nothing anyone could do to save him.”
Travel dead, and I would never see him again? Yes, it was a lie. I twisted my egg ring around and around on my finger until it created a deep, pink groove in my skin, but the little egg nested on the crown of the ring did not budge. It would never break. It was infinitely intact, a solid reminder of my fertility.
“There will be a funeral,” he said as a lump of belief rose in my throat. “We’ll give you all of the details after the arrangements have been made.”
“No. I can’t believe this. Are you sure it was him?” I choked through a sob.
Dr. Little’s left cheek twitched under his left eye. He rubbed the spot with his hand and then spoke. “Yes, there is no mistake. It was him. Would you like to see the body?”
“Yes, I would.” I choked again.
“A viewing can be arranged. His body arrived here at GenH1 an hour ago. I’ll see what I can do.” Dr. Little tapped his L-Band and mumbled. “Dr. Bennett would also like to speak with you. He’s on his way here. He’s concerned about your well-being, considering what’s happened.”
“Good. I want to talk to him, but please leave. I want to talk to him alone,” I cried.
Dr. Little’s only reaction was a smirk. The only thing that man lived by was his L-Band. He had a passion for orderliness, authority, and control—not for his employees or his patient’s mental welfare.
When Michael appeared on the monitor, Dr. Little waited for him to enter my apartment before he slipped through the door, giving him a quick handshake and me a bow like he was actually sorry about leaving me in a state of grief.
“Is it true? Tell me the truth,” I said after we made our conversation free by tricking our L-Bands. “Please, tell me he was lying.”
“I wish I could. But, yes, it’s true.”
Travel left the program, which meant he left Victoria and me, too, something I never thought he’d do. My heart melted. As my legs buckled, Michael caught me in his arms, bringing me to the floor to sob against his chest. As he held me, I shuddered, short spasms in a hiccup-like rhythm.
“But I’m here for you, Cassie. I will always be here for you,” he said softly, smoothing my hair with his hand. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll take you and Victoria away from here. I care more for you than anything else on this planet.”
“No, it’s too risky,” I said, pulling away. “I’ve already lost Travel. I’ll have to leave on my own.”
“I won’t let you do that. I could never leave you.” He held my head in his hands, his watery eyes filled with sorrow and affection.
“You can’t come with me.”
“And I can’t let anything bad happen to you. You mean too much to me. You still have no idea how much, do you?” He blinked and swallowed hard, and I shook my head no. “Before Victoria was born, I used to visit a very special place every evening before I left GenH1 for the night. Do you know what that place was?”
“No,” I said, my lips trembling.
“It was the botanical garden—your botanical garden. I went there after work before I went home. I sat in the same spot where you sat each day. I held your tools in my hand and dreamed we were there together. I kept track of your dig, watching for changes and counting the number of pottery pieces you unearthed each day.” He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out something small, something flat, but curved with jagged edges.
“You found a piece of pottery,” I said, holding out my palm.
“After Simon first took away your tools, I brought my own and continued digging for you. When your visits ended altogether, he ordered GROW to restore the garden to its previous condition. So that night, I went for the last time, and by the light of GROW’s spotter, I found what I hoped was the last piece.”
“So my dig is gone?”
“It’s gone. I’m sorry.”
My head hurt. My stomach ached like I was bedridden on the fourteenth floor all over again, but the piece of hard clay against my palm kept me grounded as the shock of Travel’s death sunk into my heart and became real.
“I’ll take you and Victoria away from here,” Michael repeated. “I’ll never leave you.”
“Not even if you had a choice like Travel did?” I asked, pulling away from Michael and wiping my cheeks.
“Actually, there’s more to that story if you’re ready to hear it. He didn’t die in a hover accident. He never planned to quit the program and start a new life in Region Three. He…he committed suicide.”
Suicide? That was even worse. “How do you know for sure?”
“My assistant Rynne called me this morning. He told me to meet him on the eighteenth floor. He said he couldn’t tell my why, that I just needed to see it for myself.”
“What did you see?” I sniffled.
“Travel, dead, his containment cell secured by a net of laser-electric beams. He held his wrists against the current until they burned, blistered, and bled. He bled out before anyone noticed.”
“Nobody was watching him?”
“An obscura was on him all night, but by the time a random check was made, it was too late.”
“But he would have never taken his own life. If he did, they must have told him something that left him without any hope.”
“They didn’t just tell him something, they showed him something: his reclone. It was still lying on a gurney on the other side of the electric fence when I got there.”
“But I thought you couldn’t clone a clone.”
“Oh, it can be done. It just doesn’t work, at least not yet. They usually die in infancy. But Travel’s reclone was different. In less than twenty-four hours, Simon’s crew grew his twin from an embryo, to fetus, to infant, to child, to teenager, the cells dividing so quickly, it produced even more debilitating side effects. Steroids gave the clone’s useless muscles bulk, and someone cut and styled its hair to
match Travel’s, but it never received a brain impulse. The poor bastard never had a chance.”
“But why did they clone Travel in the first place? What were they planning to do with it?” I pulled a pillow from the couch and hugged it hard against my chest.
“President Gifford gave the order to keep Travel incarcerated for life, something they didn’t want you or anyone outside the program to know about. They planned to give his clone injuries indicative of a hover accident and tell you and his friends and family that he was killed while on his way to visit his brother in Region Three. Then they could show you the body, give him a grand funeral, and it would be all over, no questions asked, while the real Travel remained here, forgotten in a cell.”
“So, they showed Travel his clone?” How could those doctors be so cruel?
“Yup. First they told him he was going to remain incarcerated for life. Then they showed him the clone and told him their plan as an added threat. It was obviously too much for him to live with.”
“But he didn’t have to kill himself. We would have found a way to make things right.”
“He didn’t know that. He didn’t think he had any options.”
“Suicide is never an option. Never, no matter what. Life is precious.” As much as I was tired of hearing that repeated every day, the clones’ motto was true, and for a moment, I was angry at Travel for giving up on life.
“And now it’s my job to falsify his death certificate and Clayton’s job to get rid of the reclone. Travel’s suicide has actually made their cover-up easier.”
“I have to find Victoria and get out of here. Now that I know what the doctors are capable of, there’s no telling what they’ll do.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The next morning, I awoke to the sound of footsteps, and for a moment, I thought it was Travel striding down the hall, taking long but quick steps, manly and coordinated like he always had a rock beat in his head. Sometimes he’d sneak into my apartment and order breakfast, so when I finally awoke, two sunny-side-up eggs would be smiling up at me.
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