The Genesis Code

by Lisa von Biela

  Thoughts and emotions kept ricocheting off the inside of his skull. Mark could almost feel them smashing and pounding at the bone, bruising his brain with their cruel trajectories. He clapped his hands to the side of his head in a desperate attempt to still them. The turmoil was so bad he couldn’t even decide which catastrophe to focus on first.

  Terry’s lonely, pathetic and untimely death gnawed at him. What had happened? And how alone in this world must he have been that no one—not friend, not family—even realized he’d died? Mark felt ashamed to realize in all the hours they’d spent working together, he had no idea if Terry had brothers or sisters, any family at all. All he knew was that he wasn’t married. Beyond that, they’d confined their discussions to work and work-related topics. OneMarket must have been his entire existence.

  If you could call it that.

  And if he didn’t want to wallow in guilt and vicarious misery for Terry, he could torment himself over that memory lapse last night. For those few minutes, it was as if he’d never even met Terry. There was just nothing there, not so much as a thread of memory. An emptiness, like a chunk had been neatly carved out of his brain. How ironic—Sheila feared the Alzheimer’s in her genes, yet he was the one to have the lapse. Thank God he had finally remembered.

  But what if he hadn’t?

  Would he even have realized the loss? And would it happen again—or get worse? The idea of his memory slipping away, possibly even without his knowing it, took root in his mind and began to grow. As it did, Mark started to understand Sheila’s Alzheimer’s terror at a newfound and unwelcome level.

  Trying to shuck off a growing feeling of doom, he turned to his computer and searched the newsletter for more on Terry. Earnings news, stock price updates, some more new hires. Nothing at all about Terry. Apparently he no longer mattered to OneMarket. At first he chided himself for being at all surprised. Then he looked around his cube.

  Piles of work. Enough work for the equivalent of three people. All on his shoulders. For the price of his salary and benefits, he’d given himself up to OneMarket. And up until he resigned, so had Terry.

  And for what? As soon as you’re off the payroll, you don’t exist. The least they could have done was acknowledge Terry’s death. As outrage gripped him and bloomed, Mark realized he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything until he got this off his chest. Not knowing what he was going to say, and too furious to care about the consequences, he stood, shaking with anger. Then he went to confront Reyes.

  CHAPTER 45

  Evan Cleary sat in his office, shifting his gaze from his computer screen to his phone, then back again. He’d tormented himself for twenty minutes, analyzing and reanalyzing his course of action. He knew what he wanted to do, but Tyler’s words still burned fresh in his ears, holding him back.

  He could read Weston’s mind. Or so he said.

  Evan wouldn’t put it past the bastard to exaggerate or outright lie to protect his experiment. But if Tyler wasn’t bluffing, he could monitor any contact Evan had with Weston. And surely he’d be on the alert after their argument the other day. He could plant whatever he damned well pleased into Weston’s mind to undermine—or pervert—Evan’s attempts to help.

  He stood and paced back and forth in his closed office. The physical movement helped him think his way out of problems before; he needed it to help him now. He’d left his house that morning resolved to remove Weston’s implant as soon as possible, both for the young man’s health and to use it as evidence to expose the secret program. But in light of Tyler’s claims, he hadn’t yet worked out how to do it without putting Weston in further danger.

  As he paced, ideas flew into his mind, and he discarded them almost as quickly. Too tricky to arrange. Too likely to catch Tyler’s attention. Too dangerous for Weston.

  He replayed his confrontation with Tyler in his mind, and then it struck him. He’d told him he’d just examined Weston. A follow-up check would look routine. Certainly, if he kept himself to a simple script, he could call Weston to see how he was doing. Even if Tyler eavesdropped on the conversation—or on Weston’s thoughts about it—there would be nothing to raise his hackles.

  He sat down and punched in Weston’s extension.

  “Weston here.”

  “Yes, Mark, this is Dr. Cleary. I was just calling to see if you’ve had any improvement with the medication.”

  There was a long pause, then, “Excuse me?”

  Evan frowned. Maybe he was distracted. “This is Dr. Cleary. I just wanted to see if your stomach problems had improved.”

  Another long pause. “You must have the wrong extension. I don’t know any Dr. Cleary.”

  Now it was Evan’s turn to hesitate. What’s going on? Is there someone with him? Corporate cubicles weren’t the pinnacle of privacy. “Is this a bad time to talk? I can check back later, or you can call me when it’s convenient for you.”

  “Look, I think you’ve got the wrong extension. Who are you calling for?” A hard edge of annoyance crept into the voice.

  “For Mark Weston. Isn’t that you?”

  “Well, yes, but…” A muffled groan, then a softer voice. “I’m sorry. I remember now.”

  How could he forget like that? It had to be the implant. Evan had figured all along that a device like that couldn’t possibly be devoid of side effects. You just don’t screw with people’s brains—

  “I’m sorry. I forget things sometimes. I’ve been working long hours lately, and I’m a little tired.” Weston gave a nervous laugh. He didn’t sound like he believed his own story. “Yes, my stomach is doing better, thank you.”

  Mindful that Tyler might be absorbing this entire exchange, Evan reluctantly let the lapse lie for now, until he could think of the safest way to pursue it. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Let me know if it recurs, or if the improvement doesn’t continue,” he said lamely.

  Evan set down the phone, then slammed his fist on his desk. Weston’s memory lapse made it even more urgent that he get that thing out of him, but how? Not quite knowing where to begin, he turned to his computer and started checking calendars. Weston had a sprinkling of meetings in the early afternoon.

  Then he checked Tyler’s calendar. Aside from the usual patient load, the schedule showed him in a meeting already underway—a meeting with no title. Evan clicked to see the other attendees. Fred Cline, Maria Jenkins, Jeff Reyes, and Harris. With HR and Legal involved, it had to be something to do with Genesis, but what?

  Trembling, Mark pressed his hands to the sides of his head as if he could force his brain to work normally. Too much, too much! Everything was falling in on him at once, and he had no one he could confide in. For a minute there, he had no idea who was calling him, and no clue what he was talking about. He couldn’t believe the doctor didn’t pursue his obvious lapse. Maybe they were too busy to care that much about current employees, either.

  He tried to slow his breathing, to step back from the edge of panic. Think! But that only made it worse. As Mark thought of who he would normally go to when he needed to talk and get another point of view, he realized just how lost he was.

  No way could he talk to Sheila about his memory glitches. The chasm between them had grown too wide. Besides, she had enough legitimate worries for herself; he didn’t dare add to her burden.

  And he sure as hell couldn’t go to Toni Hanson—not on a professional basis, and certainly not on a personal basis. He’d stayed away from her since that night, wanting to make sure nothing further came of their tryst. He’d never cheated on Sheila before, and he still couldn’t quite believe he’d really done what he had. No, he didn’t dare risk contacting her again for any reason.

  He couldn’t go to anyone at OneMarket about it. They might set a flag in his file somewhere and dump him as soon as they could for whatever reason they could make up. If something was wrong with his memory, his ability to think, then he would be of no use to the company. OneMarket wouldn’t tolerate underperformance, no matter the cause.
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  Friends? He hadn’t seen any of his friends, let alone called or emailed them, in months. They’d given up trying to contact him. And his family wasn’t even an option. His mother lived out in Maine now. He couldn’t raise something like this on a phone call—he’d worry her to death. And his brother was on some overseas assignment, incommunicado for the time being.

  Mark could now see how Terry had died unnoticed. He’d slid into the same trap, a little at a time, until one day, he had no one. And when he left OneMarket, he was as alone in the world as he could be. With horrible clarity, Mark realized he’d followed right behind Terry, cut adrift from everything but the work.

  His earlier fury gone, replaced by a feeling of tumbling helplessly down a steep slope, Mark was relieved he hadn’t been able to find Reyes in his office earlier. He’d been so angry he likely would have gotten himself fired on the spot. Now he just wanted to blend in quietly and keep whatever options he had open until he could figure out what to do.

  CHAPTER 46

  Simon Harris’ normally marble-cool face was flushed. Everyone else assembled in his office wore looks of forced calm. Josh braced himself and hoped he’d prepared an adequate defense.

  Harris pointed an accusatory index finger and spoke through clenched teeth. “No one leaves this room until we get two things nailed down. One is how to address any questions we get about Simmons now that—”

  “He was no longer an employee. We’re under no obligation to say a thing.” Maria Jenkins pressed her lips together tightly.

  Cline cleared his throat and said, “Maria, normally I’d agree with you. But he resigned so recently. I think we have to consider that.”

  Harris glared at them both. “I want the minimum attention possible drawn to Simmons.” He turned to Reyes. “What’s our risk here? Who did he work with who might have any questions? Are we talking one or two, or whole departments of people who might ask after him—even though he’d already left the firm?”

  Reyes licked his lips and hesitated before answering. “Well, there were times his assignments caused him to meet with larger groups, but normally he worked most closely with Weston. I never noticed him particularly associating with anyone else. Our risk may be pretty low here if we can just cover ourselves for any questions from Weston.”

  “But don’t you think even those who only worked with him sporadically might think it odd that there’s been no mention at all of his passing?” Cline shifted in his chair as he glanced at Reyes.

  “What are you suggesting we say, Fred?” asked Harris.

  “Well, I’m not suggesting we say much, just a brief acknowledgement is all.”

  Jenkins folded her arms. “I just want to step away from this as much as possible. We don’t report anything on other ex-employees, and I don’t want to start with this one. Especially this one.”

  “But Weston may ask. He was as close as anyone to Simmons. I think we need to have something ready to say to him, if nothing else,” said Reyes.

  Josh stayed out of it, using the time to organize his thoughts for the battle he knew would be next. He took it as a bad sign that they were being so contentious about what he considered the less important question.

  “I can see your point.” Jenkins’ jaw was set. “But I still advise saying as little as possible. If he asks, you tell him you know nothing more than what’s been in the news. That’s it. Don’t volunteer anything. And nothing goes in any company newsletter. I want distance from this, and I want it treated as nothing special. Gives us a better position if the police come asking anything later.”

  Harris turned to Josh. “Speaking of police, how well were you able to conceal the incision?”

  “Not perfectly, since it was post-mortem, and there was no bleeding. But I did what I could. It’s helpful they didn’t find him for a week. The deterioration will help. I don’t think it’ll stand out too badly.”

  Harris scowled and shook his head. “Jesus. I hope you’re right.” He addressed the group. “Now for this next part, I needn’t remind any of you that not one word goes outside this room. Not one word gets put in writing, email, nothing. Do you have anything to add before we get started?” He glanced at Jenkins.

  “That about sums it up. I think we all know the gravity of the situation. I’d like to stress that there must be no record of this matter at all in any form. That includes even things like voicemails, titles put on any meetings in the calendar. Anything that could record any hint of this matter should be avoided, and not just from this point forward, but since inception.” She turned to Josh. “That means records and notes as well. The police could subpoena Simmons’ medical file, and I don’t want anything in there to alert them. If there already is, you’d better figure out a way to make it not there.”

  “I’ll double check that Dr. Cleary hasn’t let anything slip into the record, but I’ve already been careful to shield any entries with innocuous medical notations,” said Josh.

  “Good,” said Harris. “All right, we’ve danced around it so far, but just so Fred and Maria are also fully informed, we have reason to believe—but not proof—that Genesis may have contributed to Simmons’ demise. So now we need to look at the implications and decide what to do—short and long term.”

  “How many others have the device now? It’s just the one other resource, right?” asked Jenkins.

  “Just Weston. Right, Josh?” Harris glanced at him, his face still flushed.

  “Yes. Just Weston.”

  “Simple. Stop the program and pull Weston’s implant. The exposure is too great, both in terms of liability and bad press. It’ll be problematic enough if something is detected in Simmons at autopsy, but if something goes wrong with Weston…” Jenkins shook her head. “We just can’t have that.”

  Josh held his comments and listened to everyone’s concerns, preparing to counter them with rational arguments.

  “I have to agree with Maria. It’s the only approach that makes sense under the circumstances. I can’t even imagine the damage if this got out—and especially if something happened to Weston in the meantime.” Cline seemed relieved to side with Jenkins’ position.

  Reyes fidgeted in his chair before answering. “Well, while I agree with Fred and Maria—it’s the only thing that makes sense—I have a problem. Genesis does seem to work, and I’ve got some aggressive client deadlines to meet in the next few weeks. Weston is the only resource I have in the short term to meet those obligations, and I don’t think he—or anyone—can do it without the device.”

  “Shit.” Harris leaned his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “We have the usual financial penalties written into the contracts, right?”

  “Yes.” Reyes looked pale.

  “How many more weeks do you absolutely need Weston at this pace?”

  Reyes thought for a moment. “I believe just under four weeks. I can double-check and see if I can do something to shorten that a little, but I doubt it.”

  Harris shook his head and let out a frustrated breath, then turned to Josh with narrowed eyes. “If it weren’t for Reyes’ problem, I’d have you pull the device right now! Seems to me you missed something in the testing somewhere, but we’ll discuss that at a later time.”

  Josh opened his mouth to object, but Harris waved him off and continued. “I want you to keep a close eye on Weston until Reyes is through his critical period. If anything looks like a problem, contact me immediately and we’ll re-evaluate the situation. Then once Reyes’ window is over, I want the device removed immediately—no more implants until you figure out definitively what went wrong. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Josh decided to hold his comments for now. Reyes had provided the opening he needed to keep Genesis in place. And as long as it stayed in, the program stayed alive. Now he’d have several weeks’ reprieve to make his case to expand the program rather than stop it.

  CHAPTER 47

  “Cancel my appointments.” Josh Tyler didn’t even look at the
receptionist or wait for an acknowledgement as he strode quickly past the clinic’s front desk and toward his office.

  He slammed and locked his door and flung himself into his chair. He wanted to rage at those idiots, to scream in their faces how short-sighted they were. What technological advance was ever achieved without some risk? Whatever their claims of interest in progress and invention, they were all just cowards in power suits. Josh gritted his teeth, knowing he’d been wise to keep his mouth shut, at least for now.

  Despite the reprieve, he knew he was on a short leash. Any hint of trouble with Weston in the meantime, and the project was over. And he could not let that happen.

  Human test subjects were critical to his goals. His research had been thorough, but ultimately, no lab animal, no matter how close to the human genome, could substitute for the real thing. Now that OneMarket and Harris’ hubris had given him the lab he needed, he wasn’t about to let it slip from his grasp.

  But if they ordered him to remove Weston’s implant prematurely, he’d be doubly in the dark. He couldn’t autopsy Simmons to find the true cause of his death, and now Weston was his only in vivo subject. If there was a problem with the device, he needed time to identify and correct it in a real-life situation, or he’d be again forced to extrapolate from lab animal tests.

  If he could keep Weston implanted and resolve the problem—if there was one—then the program could expand throughout OneMarket as he’d envisioned. Harris could not argue that Genesis didn’t work; Weston was doing the work of three, and performing well from what Reyes had said.

  Once a significant portion of the OneMarket workforce was implanted, he could get whatever he wanted out of Harris. Because if Harris denied him any of his due, he and he alone had the ability to reprogram the devices in whatever way he chose.