Shine: Season One (Shine Season Book 1)

by William Bernhardt

  “We’re already there,” Harriet said quietly.

  Thank you very much. “Can you tell us anything else, Harriet? What’s going on in the world that concerns us?”

  “I can’t get a signal any more.”

  “That’s because of our ingenious electronic signal-dampening blanket,” Gearhead said, jumping in. “Mnemo and I got it up and running. Stole the parts from that electronics store near the In & Out. No one can detect us down here, not with any existing technology that I know about. But the blanket also blocks wireless signals. That’s why Harriet isn’t getting anything.”

  “Maybe we can sneak her outside late at night. Disguise her.”

  “Sounds risky to me,” Mnemo said. “And we’re getting off topic. We’re supposed to be picking a leader. It’s Aura. I don’t think there’s another choice. She’s a beautiful person.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a crush on her,” Dream said.

  “Sounds like you’re jealous,” Tank said sotto voce.

  “Could we please stay on topic?” Mnemo said. “Honestly. Have none of you read Robert’s Rules of Order? A motion has been made that Aura be elected our leader. Do I hear a second?”

  “Second,” Twinge said.

  “Any other candidates?”

  No one spoke.

  “Discussion?”

  Didn’t seem to be any.

  “Then we can take a vote of acclimation. All in favor.”

  Some of them said Aye.

  “All opposed?”

  Silence.

  “Good.” Mnemo sat down. “You’re the leader now, Aura. Take over.”

  She pushed herself awkwardly to her feet. “Well…I’m not sure what to talk about first.”

  “Explain your big master plan,” Dream said. “All leaders have big master plans, right? Tell us how you’re going to get us to freedom. To Ohm.” She snickered a moment. “And stop the people who are trying to kill us.”

  “Yeah. That I don’t know. But here’s what I do know. When I went to Santa Monica, where Perfume…you know. Something was definitely not right.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, for starters, Perfume wasn’t really a Shine. So even if Shines were dangerous—which they’re not—she couldn’t have blown up the joint. And if she didn’t…”

  “Someone else did,” Twinge completed. “But who?”

  “I can’t be sure. But I know who was there. Stirring up trouble.”

  “The SSS.”

  “Right. I want Gearhead to make reconnaissance runs. Scout out the SSS headquarters downtown.”

  Mnemo sat up straight. “That’s too dangerous. She’ll get caught.”

  “We’ll all get caught if we sit around not doing anything to help ourselves. We need intel. So let’s see if we can get some.”

  “I’ll do it,” Gearhead said.

  “Unacceptably risky,” Mnemo said, even louder than before.

  “This is war,” Tank replied. “We can’t afford to be Safety Suzys in a war.”

  “On a brighter note,” Gearhead said, “I have something for all of you.” She opened a small box and pulled out several pairs of lightweight e-glasses and wristwatches.

  “These things are incredibly expensive,” Aura said. “Did you steal them?”

  “I borrowed them. So I could improve them. We can return them later. If we must.” Gearhead distributed them to everyone in the group. “Harriet doesn’t need them to receive messages, of course, but she might want to send a verbal message. And there are several other apps I’ve packed into those glasses stems. More than just net and cloud connects. You’ve got GPS tracking with satellite capacity—but the readers themselves cannot be tracked. They leave no IP address. You got encrypted texting and calls. Completely untraceable. Universal computer access. I’ve given us all secure email addresses and a bulletin board where we can exchange messages. High-powered camera. Hell, you’ve even got a decent flashlight.”

  “Corkscrew?” Dream asked.

  “Working on that. Anyway, you should carry this stuff with you at all times.”

  “I will.” As soon as I figure out how to use it. Tech was never her strong suit. “Thank you, Gearhead.”

  “Thank Mnemo. She researched the specs. I just figured out how to retool them using bobby pins and watch batteries and whatever else I could find.”

  “You two make a good team,” she commented.

  Mnemo and Gearhead exchanged a glance but said nothing.

  “Why do you both—” She stopped mid-sentence.

  They heard something.

  The sound of movement. Upstairs.

  “Who would be in the library this time of night?” Dream whispered.

  Someone who shouldn’t be, obviously.

  More sounds. Steady movement.

  No doubt about it. Those were footsteps. And they were drawing closer.

  A door creaked.

  Someone was in the stairwell.

  “Defensive battle stations,” she whispered.

  “Which are what?” Tank whispered back.

  Yeah. Would’ve been better to work that out in advance. “Tank, you take point behind the stairwell door. Twinge, I want you to position yourself behind that tall stack of boxes to the left. If the intruder looks hostile, hit him with the worst case of piles he’s had in his life.”

  “Eew.”

  “Just do it. Gearhead, you got that weapon you’ve been working on?”

  “Still just a prototype. Untested.”

  “Be ready to test it. If necessary.”

  “Understood.”

  “Dream, scan his brain as soon as you can. See what you can learn. Mnemo, take cover in my office. We may need you later.”

  “But—”

  “And take Harriet with you.”

  “Very well.”

  Unbelievable. They actually listened to her.

  The footsteps grew nearer. It would only be a matter of seconds.

  She held her breath. Please don’t let me screw up my first official mission as duly elected leader.

  And please don’t let it be our last mission.

  Five, four, three, two…

  The door opened noiselessly. A lone figure stepped out of the shadows.

  She hadn’t been sure what to expect. More soldiers. Dr. Coutant. Cops. Could’ve been anything. But what she absolutely did not expect was—

  A skinny Indian kid she’d known since grade school.

  “Taj!”

  65

  Aura hugged Taj for at least a full minute, and even then it didn’t seem nearly long enough. After the excitement cooled and everyone was introduced, Aura took him into one of the side corridors to talk.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you, natch. I was worried. Nice place you’ve got, by the way.”

  “It was the best we could improvise under the circumstances.”

  “Hey, it’s bigger than my room at home.”

  “How did you find me?”

  He allowed himself a small bit of preening. “Impressed?’

  “More like terrified. If you could find me, so can the umpteen zillion people who want to kill me.”

  “Not to worry. No one else is coming. I was very careful to make sure no one followed me.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Hey, my dad taught me how to ditch a trace when I was five.”

  “Apparently you have some of your dad’s detective skills, too. Are you gonna tell me how you found me or are you going to drag out the suspense a little more?”

  He swiveled a chair around, took a seat, and propped his feet up over the arm. “Easy as could be. I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t know what you were doing. But there was one thing I was absolutely sure you would do, soon as you had a chance.”

  “You were sure I would…?”

  “Call me.”

  “Is that a fact.” Taj could be arrogant, showy, evasive, relentlessly teasing. Enough to really
put a girl off. If she didn’t know it was all a show.

  “So how’d you find me already?”

  “Stole a gizmo from my dad that traces phone calls. Instant GPS location coordinates. The gizmo is tiny, uses nanotech, sits under the SIM card, and is almost invisible. But here’s an item of interest—when I went to put it in my phone, there was already one there.”

  “Someone was bugging you.’

  “Correct. So I replaced theirs with mine and put theirs in a phone I never use. The trace took a long time. Apparently your phone had some kind of special encryption—?”

  “Supposedly. This is what I get for trusting a guy with unmentionable diseases.”

  “I eventually found the phone in the alley where you left it. Then I haunted the area watching for you or one of your talented friends. And tonight I saw the one with the pink Mohawk sneaking into the library through a back door.”

  “Gearhead.”

  “Whatever. Followed her back here. Waited till the coast was clear.” He spread his arms in a flourish. “Presto! Here I am!”

  “You know what, Taj? I always knew you were smart. But you are…seriously smart.”

  “At last she notices.”

  “Except you haven’t explained why you’re here.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to help. Have you forgotten how long I’ve known you? No way I’m going to sit around while you’re the subject of a national manhunt. Er, girlhunt.”

  “National? Aren’t you exaggerating?”

  “You must not have tv down here. Did you know President Patterson gave a televised address last night to discuss ‘the fugitive Shine problem?’”

  “No.” She felt a hollow pit at the base of her stomach. “What’s the sitch?”

  “He assured everyone there was no need for panic. Which I’m sure he would do even if California were about to drop off into the ocean. He promised he would do everything possible to protect the nation. He specifically mentioned the ‘dangerous escapees from Antolina Island.’”

  “That’s me. Awesomely dangerous.”

  “He quoted the Declaration of Independence: When in the course of human events… Which he said means that American civil liberties are by definition limited to humans. And humanity is determined by DNA. And Shine DNA is distinctly different. And therefore, Shines are not human.”

  “Then what the hell are we?”

  “Hey—don’t kill the messenger. I’m just telling you what the man said. He’s triggered the provision in PA2 that calls for the formation of an Emergency Security Council.”

  “Which means?”

  “It’s about to be open-season on Shines. You will have no civil rights whatsoever. They can arrest you without a warrant. They can search your home. They can lock you up indefinitely without charging you.”

  She pressed her palm against her forehead. “How can they say we’re not human? We’re obviously human. We’re…more than human.”

  “It’s the ‘more than’ that’s bothering people.”

  She grabbed his hand. She saw goosebumps race up his arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine.” His face flushed. “Just, you know. Concerned. Is there anything I could be doing for you? On the outside, I mean?”

  She thought for a moment. “Does your father know anything about the SSS? Or their headquarters? Where their leader hangs? Or lives? That Reverend Trent?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “I think we need to pay him a visit.”

  “That would be insane.”

  “We can’t just hole up in the library till the end of time. Taj, could you be my eyes and ears on the outside? If your dad learns anything about the SSS, or anything else that might be of interest…perhaps you could pass that along?”

  “I could try. It’s not like he confides everything to his teenage son.”

  “Anything you can do will be much appreciated.” She drew close to him. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Coming out here, risking your neck. Offering to help. Not many people would’ve done that.”

  “Well, we are best friends, aren’t we?“

  She drew closer, wrapping him in her arms. “I think we’re more that that.” Pause. “I think we always have been.”

  “You—You think?”

  “I know.” She broke away from him. “Stay in touch as much as you can. And be careful. If people think you’re working with Shines—well, I can just imagine.”

  He held his hands up as if describing a headline. “‘Benedict Arnold of the Human Race.’ Well, that’s one way to get immortality.”

  “That’s one way to get dead.”

  “Some people think that’s what happened to those boys who died in the so-called Getty plague,” Harriet said. “That they were Shine sympathizers. So the government took them out.”

  “I don’t want you to be the next victim, Taj. Of anything.”

  Taj grinned. “Just another of so many things we have in common, kiddo.”

  66

  Dr. Coutant knew she should be thinking of James Watson, the co-discoverer of the structure of DNA, but instead her mind kept drifting to James Whale, director of The Bride of Frankenstein. Estes’s laboratory was not nearly so primitive, electrified, or black-and-white. But the analogy still seemed appropriate.

  “I was not informed you would be using live test subjects,” she said, trying not to inhale her surgical mask.

  Dr. Estes did not look up from the gurney. Sweat dripped from his brow and the underarms of his scrubs were stained a dark black. “There would be no benefit in using dead ones.”

  Coutant marveled at how little the man seemed to have aged. She assumed the years passed for Estes just as they did for everyone else, but you couldn’t tell by looking. Maybe that was because he was already so old when she met him. Or perhaps his enthusiasm for his work animated him. Which was a nice way of saying that crazy people lived longer.

  At least he appeared to have his lab rats under control this time.

  “Where did you get the guinea pig?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Not obvious. But she had a strong suspicion. The Getty. “And the ones who were massacred?”

  “That wasn’t a massacre. That was a culling. Remember, what we’re attempting is a transplant, ultimately. A genetic one, true, but still a transplant. And the early days of transplants are always fraught with error. The first blood transfusions went horribly wrong, because people didn’t know about blood typing. Similar results from the first organ transplants. So it’s inevitable that in our first sweep, we would find that most potential test subjects are unsuitable. We released a gas that contained a trace sampling of the compound—with predictable results. It may be some time before we’re able to anticipate compatibility with any degree of certainty.”

  “Did you see how many men died? You must be searching for the rarest DNA combination on the face of the earth.”

  “Perhaps.” Estes picked up a scalpel and made a deft incision. Blood spurted for a second. “But then again—we only needed one suitable recipient. And we got him.”

  “How long have you been operating?”

  “Fourteen hours.”

  “And the subject has been conscious the entire time?”

  “We can’t put him out—that would affect his autonomic responses. Don’t worry. We’ve used a muscular numbing agent so he can’t speak or squirm.”

  “But he can still feel. And you’re…cutting on him.”

  “That is true.”

  “Could you numb the pain at least?”

  “Sadly, that would affect the test results. We have to be able to observe his biological responses on all levels.”

  Her mouth felt dry. “And…how is this not torture?”

  “Because it’s being done in the name of science. Do you think me cruel?”

  How honest should she be? “I thought you were cruel when you did this to rats. Now I think you’re…something else entirely.” She blew th
e mask from her lips. “You’re experimenting on humans.”

  “Human now, perhaps. Not for much longer, I think.” Estes pulled back the white sheet and revealed what looked for all the world like a corpse. Motionless. Hairless. Black circles around the eyes. Green tint to the skin. Naked, though most of the distinguishing body parts seemed to have been eliminated.

  But very much alive.

  “DNA grafting is not like transplanting a limb or an organ. Rewriting genetic code is much like inducing a computer program to rewrite its own operating system. It takes time. And occasionally you have to reboot. Which is what we’re going to do right now.” He laid down the blood-soaked scalpel, removed the microvisors from his face, and picked up a huge syringe, the sort she thought might be used to tranquilize an elephant.

  “I assume you’re using all the Shine data we fed you. All the DNA and RNA samples we took from Dr. Hope’s sleepy-time chair. All the observations we made when they were in the infirmary. All the data we recorded when they were eating, when they were sleeping. What we got from the girls beneath the stables. Before they were relocated as per your directions.”

  “Are we going to argue about that again?”

  “It was risky and indulgent and…sick.”

  “And useful. And yes, the data obtained in your underground stalag proved particularly enlightening. I’ve been able to adapt those little black bugs—the nanobytes—into a fluid self-replicating injection.”

  “Other researchers have found Shine DNA impossible to reproduce.”

  Estes continued cutting. “Do you know when we made the biggest breakthrough in cancer research?”

  “Enlighten me, Doctor.”

  “When we stopped focusing on the genetic structure of the organ infested with cancer and started focusing on the gene that drives the cancer. It’s the same thing here. Everyone else is trying to understand the origin of the Shine genome. I’m focused on duplicating it. I want to map the switches in the junk so we can produce the result we want.”

  “Is that wise? Or safe?”

  “What I’ve done,” Estes continued, “is fully sequence both the Shine cells and the normal cells and compare the two. I used our forty-two sequencing machines and four different supercomputers around the clock. I isolated the chromosome that makes all the difference, the one churning out huge amounts of a special protein that makes those Shines…well, shiny. And I’ve begun identifying the switches that trigger particular Shine reactions. Say, for example, the one known as Tank. Her powers seem like the most potentially useful to my backers.”