by Eliza Green
The connection rang and rang. Eventually, Jenny answered. ‘Hello?’ she said cautiously. ‘Why are you calling me from an unidentified number?’
‘I apologise for the anonymity. My name’s Bill Taggart. I’m an investigator working for the World Government.’
Jenny’s expression brightened considerably. ‘Here to offer me a job? I knew it wouldn’t take you long.’
Bill hid his surprise. How could she know the reason he was calling? A new panic gripped him until he realised his mistake. ‘I’m sorry. No, I’m not calling to offer you your job back.’
Jenny’s face fell and there was a sadness in her eyes that seemed to age her.
‘Well, what do you want then?’ she snapped.
‘I have a proposition for you,’ Bill said.
She laughed without humour. ‘The last time I spoke to a government employee, they were giving me my marching orders. What makes you think I’ll want to talk to you?’
‘First of all, you should know that I’ve placed a disrupter on this call so it can’t be traced. I’m not calling you on behalf of the World Government.’
Jenny looked at Bill closely. ‘I can’t imagine what you might want from me, Mr Taggart,’ she said slowly.
Bill nodded. ‘I can understand that. Is it fair to say that you don’t have a high opinion of the government?’
‘I guess,’ Jenny said, shrugging.
Bill leaned in closer. ‘Well, what would you say if I asked for your help with something illegal that would really piss them off?’
‘I would say you’re full of crap,’ Jenny scoffed. ‘Nobody goes against them and gets away with it.’
‘What if I told you that there’s a whole bunch of shit going on behind closed doors that the public has no idea about? What if I said that your assistance would go a long way to help right some wrongs? Would that change your mind?’
‘Excuse me, Mr Taggart—’
‘Please—call me Bill.’
‘All right … Bill. You must have mistaken me for someone who was born yesterday. I don’t know who you are or what your game is, but I smell a large rat. If you’re assuming that I’ve hit rock bottom and that you can somehow use my grievances with the government to discredit me further, you’re sadly mistaken.’
‘You misunderstand me. I’m not looking to discredit you in any way,’ Bill said. ‘I’m contacting you because I believe that what they did to you was a mistake. I know you were dismissed for stealing a craft out of HJA nearly three months ago. I’m sure you had good reason for that.’
Jenny became angry. ‘I didn’t steal anything! I was forced to take it. If you’d done your homework, then you’d have known there was a stowaway on board.’
‘A stowaway?’ Bill said, remembering Laura’s observation—that Jenny had lost her job around the time Stephen had appeared.
‘Yeah, some strange-looking man forced me to activate the force field around the craft, while his friend was being chased all over the place. I had no choice but to take him where he wanted to go. It was either that or—’
‘Did the man threaten you?’ Bill asked, a little surprised. He couldn’t imagine Stephen being aggressive.
‘Just verbally. Not physically.’ Jenny’s shoulders relaxed as she recounted the incident. ‘He just seemed too scared to be some raving lunatic—and I’ve transported my fair share of lunatics over the years.’
Bill raised an eyebrow.
‘I used to transport prisoners before I got into courier services,’ Jenny explained. ‘When it comes down to it, I find that desperate men tend to do desperate things. Wouldn’t you agree, Bill?’
Bill noted the sarcasm. ‘So, you were the pilot who took the man to Sydney?’
‘Yes, I was—although I don’t remember telling you where I took him.’
‘I have your file, Ms Waterson. I also have some knowledge of the incident you’re referring to.’
Jenny became wary again. ‘Who are you?’
‘I told you, I’m a World Government investigator. What was your stowaway’s name?’
‘I don’t remember. Why does that matter?’
‘Ms Waterson— ‘
Jenny put a hand up. ‘If you want to continue this conversation, please refer to me as Captain. I’m still an accomplished Grade Four pilot, work or no work.’
‘My apologies, Captain’—Bill bowed his head respectfully at the screen—‘You see the man you shuttled to Sydney that day was looking for me. He’s a product—and an innocent victim—of the World Government. He’s part of their dirty little secret.’
‘That’s where I know you from!’ Jenny said, snapping her fingers.
‘Excuse me?’
‘He was asking for you when he kidnapped me. I didn’t make the connection until now.’ Jenny frowned. ‘So who was he? And why did he want to find you?’
Jenny listened intently as Bill gave her an abridged account of events, explaining who Stephen was and introducing Laura, who hovered in the corner of the screen. He then went on to explain why he and Laura needed her help now. ‘Will you at least consider it, Captain?’ Bill said.
‘I’ll think about it, but nothing more. You’re asking a lot from me,’ said Jenny looking drained.
‘I’m about to ask even more of you. I need to know within the next forty-eight hours. It’s important that we get moving as quickly as possible. You can’t tell anybody about this conversation, not even family members. I’ve masked my signal. If this reaches government ears I’ll deny everything.’
‘Well, it’s not like I’ve many friends left in government. You needn’t worry about that.’
‘Contact me using this code,’ said Bill holding up his DPad in front of the Light Box.
Jenny picked up her own DPad, finger poised.
‘Don’t write it down. I need you to memorise it,’ Bill said.
Jenny took a few moments to commit the seven-digit code to memory. Afterwards, she said, ‘I’ll contact you soon’, then disappeared from his screen.
Laura’s face replaced Jenny’s. ‘Well, that went better than I expected,’ she said. ‘You were a little less tactful than I hoped you’d be.’
Bill had to agree. ‘What do you make of her?’ he asked.
‘Well … she’s a woman with principles, and she might be willing to help if it’s for the right reasons.’
‘Do you think she’ll go for it?’ Bill asked.
‘I guess we’ll find out in a couple of days,’ said Laura, glancing at her watch. ‘My lunch break is almost over. I’ll have to go. Let me know if you hear anything from Jenny.’ She logged out.
Chapter 17
Two weeks had passed since Anton’s arrival and Dr Caroline Finnegan had first spoken to him, and his deliberate lack of cooperation was frustrating her. She had tried every trick in the book to get the Indigene to open up to her so she could understand what made him tick. Even being his friend hadn’t worked. In the end, Anton had remained uncooperative at best.
The shock treatments she administered pulled him into reality, but as soon as she left him alone for any length of time he slipped away again to some mental retreat. Caroline didn’t have time to babysit him; she needed to keep going with her research. Charles Deighton was impatient and failure was not an option. Failure meant being stranded on Earth, and that would be a death sentence. She couldn’t do that to her team. She’d crack Anton’s genetic code if it was the last thing she did.
She recalled how excited she’d been after Deighton had offered her the job of studying the genetic structure of the Indigenes. It had been during her early years in an inferior laboratory that she had first used the programmed nanoids to add new genes to an animal’s original DNA. That had led to this rare opportunity to work on the Indigenes. Now, as she struggled to find the code for the additional genetic differences between Indigenes and human, she began to wonder if the job was worth risking her life for. Scientists elsewhere had already perfected the genetic grafting process; she neede
d to look at the trickier elements that went beyond simple evolution. Anton was proof that the human body could expand its genetic structure; but just as the physical body had altered, so too had the powers of the Indigene mind. Her team continued the hunt for the next step in the evolution process.
The information from the other laboratories had allowed Caroline and her team to skip over the preliminary steps and dive right into the detailed work. What they understood so far was that the Indigenes’ cell structure had mutated because of the race’s relocation underground. But what was most interesting was that while the relocation had physically altered the original Indigenes, who had looked like humans, the most significant mutations occurred in the genetic code of the generation that followed; they no longer resembled the race that had been created only fifty years ago.
The scientists involved in the creation of the first Indigene had understood the risks if their efforts were unsuccessful. The human race needed Exilon 5 to stand any chance of survival, and they needed to be able to live in the harsh atmosphere there. If they couldn’t mutate into Indigenes, their future was bleak. At the time, Caroline had understood the World Government’s urgency when they’d ordered the genetic testing programme to begin in earnest. It was initially set up as a voluntary programme, but so radical were the experiments that there were no volunteers. Instead they resorted to taking people out of their current lives without permission, making the genetic modifications and wiping their memories of any previous existence. Like others who knew of the programme’s darker side, Caroline had her reservations about this method of ‘recruitment’. But the World Government could not come up with a better solution to the problem.
Amidst the chaos in the laboratory, Caroline leaned her back against the central island and crossed one foot over the other. She noticed Felicity flush red when her colleague Julian thanked her for a tray of cultures she’d just handed to him. Caroline smiled. Physically very different people—Felicity with her untidy black hair and Julian with his Scandinavian blonde hair and good looks—she imagined what their babies would look like. Humans had made rapid progress as far as genetics were concerned.
In the early days of genetics, when an error occurred in a gene containing two exons, the most effective treatments used a synthetic RNA strand, or a ‘message’, containing a piece that could bind to the intron next to the defective exon. The intron and the defective exon were spliced to create a mature mRNA. But the process never repaired the gene, only the ‘message’. Treatment for patients was part of an ongoing cycle because the ‘message’ only dealt with the problem of the defective protein being translated. The treatments helped to prevent the defective protein from interfering with the functionality of the repaired protein. In modern day genetics, they had found a way to repair the gene permanently by using nanoids to splice the defective gene with a repaired gene. Later on, the nanoids helped to create the first hybrid—adding additional genes with new functions.
As Caroline watched her team pore endlessly over the data and listened to the verbal tennis match going on between Felicity and MOUSE, she thought about dropping in on Anton again. She didn’t like using shock treatment on him but it was the only thing that seemed to work. The shocks were mild in comparison to some of the barbaric testing the other facilities had performed on the Indigene.
An internal voice reminded her of what she was: a genetic scientist first, then a moralist. The reason she’d got into science in the first place was to find ways to improve life. To do that, she needed to study and run tests on subjects. Finding solutions to the world’s worst health problems, ageing and organ replacement/regeneration didn’t happen by magic, no matter what the naysayers claimed. Then there was the cosmetic side of health—nothing to do with prolonging life, but the demand for it was overwhelming, and profitable. Genetics was good for everyone.
Caroline left the bickering behind and went to check up on Anton. She really needed to get some answers about his DNA, and quickly: she had just heard that the new test subjects had arrived and were being held in a room two floors below. They couldn’t be kept indefinitely.
Armed with her DPad, she arrived at the room where Anton was being held. Before she went in, she spoke briefly to MOUSE. Then she walked confidently into the room. She’d lost much of her fear of Anton as the deadline loomed. She needed to give Deighton what he wanted, and quickly. Caroline was fighting for her own future.
On the DPad she scrolled through the list of stories about Earth’s most recent history and picked out a news story that reported on the first changes to Earth’s atmosphere.
‘I want to show you something,’ she said, holding the tablet up in front of Anton.
He turned his head in her direction, and without making eye contact, spoke to her in a strange, ethereal way. ‘What do you want, Caroline?’
An odd sensation rippled through her when Anton used her name. She projected one of the stories onto the ceiling of the containment bubble so he could read it more easily.
Forecasters have recently noted some alarming changes to the atmosphere on Earth. Reports confirm that the ozone layer has fully depleted but the force field, recently activated around the Earth, is holding steady. Sources say that the air quality is beginning to deteriorate, but not enough to cause widespread panic. However, the World Government has ordered that mandatory breathing masks be put into worldwide production, effective immediately. Charles Deighton, CEO of the World Government, said: “While we admit the statistics do not look good, there is no reason for panic. We have everything under control.”
Caroline flicked to another story, many years later, which reported the discovery of Exilon 5. Deighton was quoted as claiming that the discovery was a gift from God himself.
We are absolutely delighted with this discovery and personally, I’m very happy with the work that the government has done so far to secure a future for the people of Earth. It appears as if the planet will indeed support human life.
Finally, she found an internal report from a lead scientist on the creation of the first hybrid, dated well before the story on Exilon 5 broke, and kept a close eye on Anton as he read it. His expression didn’t change.
The prototype is being worked on as I speak. The physical changes are still minor, and cognitively, it does not appear to be developing as fast as we’d hoped. I’m not sure if the additional genes are working in the way we expected them to. They appear to be latching onto the bottom of the DNA strands, but disengaging a few days later. We need to figure out how get them to merge with both strands.
‘I’ve shown these to you because I want you to know where you came from,’ Caroline explained, her tone formal and detached. ‘I need you to understand why you’re here and how you can help us. We’re not trying to hurt you, only to study you so we can create a better future for the billions of people on this planet. What I’m about to show you is a picture of old Earth, as seen from space.’
Anton looked at the projected image above him of a beautiful blue and white planet.
‘And this is Earth as it is now,’ she said and flicked her finger across the DPad screen. The planet was almost unrecognisable—just a grey, dead lump of rock. This second image was probably what Anton had seen as the passenger ship arrived from Exilon 5.
Caroline watched Anton closely, hoping for a response, but there wasn’t a flicker. She selected different pieces of footage depicting the recent struggles for life on Earth, the loss of entire ecosystems, Earth’s general demise. She finished with footage of Exilon 5 that showed the biodomes where the animals lived, and the new technology that eliminated the need for fossil fuels.
‘We’ve changed,’ she said. ‘We’ve learned our lesson, and with your help we can make a real go of it on Exilon 5.’
‘What does any of this have to do with me?’ Anton finally said.
‘Your planet—the one we gave to you—is healthy. Ours is past saving. Our species needs to transfer to Exilon 5, but to avoid the mistakes of the past we
must know how you’ve managed to survive there without all the things that we seem to require. Has the planet altered your physiology? How advanced is your brain? I really feel that we can be of benefit to each other.’
‘You tried to wipe us out with your explosions,’ Anton said, this time with more conviction. ‘So, enlighten me—how is that of benefit to me?’
Caroline shook her head. ‘That was a huge mistake, we realise that now. I know our two species didn’t meet under the best of circumstances but some members of our society are hot-headed. There are others, like my team and I, who are only interested in changing things for the better, with minimal interference. That’s where you come into it.’
Her plan to get Anton talking was working. This was the most engaged he’d been since she’d first spoken to him. MOUSE was monitoring Anton’s vitals and brain activity.
‘Our race has nothing to do with yours,’ Anton said angrily, making fists of his hands. ‘We’re not the solution to your problems.’
Caroline smiled. ‘Deighton has told you about your origins: the first generation of Indigenes came from humans and here you are, a second generation with remarkable abilities. We need to learn from you in order to avoid repeating the mistakes that made such a mess of Earth.’
Anton’s eyes widened. ‘What are you talking about? We didn’t come from you.’
‘We’re wasting precious time, Anton,’ Caroline said, sighing deeply. ‘Whether you accept it or not, what I’ve told you is the truth. We need to move on.’
Anton became increasingly alert the longer they spoke. ‘How is that even possible? I can see your brainwaves. They are very different to ours. I was one of the few ready to accept your presence on Exilon 5, but your barbarism and brutality have changed my mind. I now understand why so many of my race barely tolerate you.’