He paced his apartment, only leaving to run on the treadmill downstairs. Anything to relieve the pressure in his chest. If he didn't return, what would happen to the project? What would happen to 202? He emailed Chassagne from a dummy account: don't contact me, don't try to meet up. They're investigating me.
Friday afternoon he got a phone-call. They had dug through his entire history, it seemed, and found nothing conclusive. There was nothing concrete to charge him with, and nothing to truly suspect him of. He could return on Monday. Chassagne's worker beetles had done their job and wiped the slate clean. He just had to keep it that way.
CHAPTER 19
Justine poured the hot water over the tealeaves and watched Casey, Sebastian and Dominic shovel down pancakes like their lives depended on it. On the stove beside her, the white tops of four more pancakes were beginning to bubble, and the delicious aroma of the frying cakes had permeated every corner of the apartment.
But Justine didn’t feel like eating. She flipped the pancakes and set the teapot next to Casey.
“You’re not hungry?” he said in her ear. His breath smelled of imitation maple syrup.
“I just… can’t.” She tried to smile, but it wobbled too much to be convincing. Casey knew her too well for that.
Dominic looked up and set down his fork. “Justine, I came here because I wanted to give you one last chance to bow out. I know they’ve been reviewing video footage of Monday, and I know you and Lisa have both been questioned. If you think it’s too risky, well, I can’t argue that MFP202 is any more valuable than you—or Sebastian, or Casey.”
Casey held her gaze with his gentle green eyes as he said, “You may be right, but as followers of Christ, Justine and I count our lives as already lost. We’ve made our choice.”
“Yes,” Justine said softly. “He’s right.”
Sebastian gulped down his mouthful of pancakes. “And I have made my choice as well.”
Dominic looked down. “This must be the last theft. I am also under close scrutiny because of my connection to one Jacques Chassagne. I'll have to find another way to save them.”
A measure of relief flowed through her. Justine flushed and looked away.
"Were you pleased with the first round’s results? Were they more 'human'?" Casey made quotations in the air, his fork still clutched in his left hand.
"The attack that Ryker and Saber orchestrated made a wonderful illustration of it, though not the illustration I hoped. I told Khalia this and I included it in my report—that we've been pretending that they aren't beings with will, intelligence and memory. Not that..." he paused and chewed his lip, "Not that I asked the management to see them as human. But there was significant discussion on maintaining trust with the MFPs, and cultivating their cognitive abilities through socialization."
"Oh, dear God," Justine said under her breath. "You make it sound so—"
"Well try to see it from my side!" Dominic dropped his fork and fixed his stormy eyes on her. "Three generations of gradual shifts in ideas led to this—led to me. Cloning animals as a food source, cloning humans to be tissue donors to save lives. Picking genes and making better babies who make better soldiers to save lives. Oh, you don't want to be a soldier even though you were specifically bred for that purpose? All right, lets make copies of you. Unethical? How's that unethical? They're no one's child. They have no one to mourn them. They've never had another life. Why, they're barely human. They'll save our lives."
"Dominic," Casey lifted his hand and opened his mouth to speak, "Dom..."
"So ask your daddy's daddy if we should socialize them and maintain trust." Dominic's face crumpled and he turned away. His wrath was expended.
Justine felt tears well up in her eyes. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't even been born when they began developing the MFPs.
Casey took one of her hands and squeezed her fingers gently. "There can be no swift resolution."
“If people could only see that… that these are humans, would they do this?” Dominic asked in a voice that rung hollow.
“People do awful things to fellow people,” Sebastian said.
All eyes went to him.
“That is true,” Dominic muttered with a hint of irony in his voice. He looked down again.
"So you concede?" Casey said with a wry twist to his voice.
"That I'm human?" Dominic lifted his gaze and swept it across the three of them. He stabbed his fork into the last piece of pancake on his plate. "Does it matter? Would anyone else concede it?"
"You've made them concede it all your life. Has anyone ever questioned your humanity? When did you first question it?" Casey leaned in toward him, his green eyes alight.
Dominic's face fell and his eyes went distant. "I don't know." His fork clattered to the table. "Adam and Khalia were present when I emerged from the biochamber. I still remember Khalia's face—younger, less thin, less worn, with her curls escaping from her hairnet. Funny how I can remember it so vividly now that I think about it." He rubbed his chin and his mouth twisted into a half smile. "About a week later Adam came alone to examine us. He took me into the exam room. I watched his every move. I was so curious. And when we were done, he laughed and looked me in the eye and told me exactly where I was going." He pressed his lips together. "He's a coward and a bully. He likes to pick on the helpless. To this day, I don't think he's looked me in the eye again, but you can tell these things from the eyes."
They all fell silent.
Justine wiped her eyes and got up, reaching for the plates. Sebastian got up and began filling the kitchen sink to wash them.
"So it took me all of a week to wonder what was wrong with me," Dominic said finally. Justine paused in place. "I was always curious. I wondered why the operators wore different clothes, and why they could talk to each other but we couldn't, and why they looked each other in the eye but I got slapped when I tried. I wanted to know where their dormitory was, and soon I found out they came and went, and that there was a world out there. I didn't know what it meant to be sold and fight and die, but I didn't need to know. Adam's voice, and that sneer on his fat face explained it all." Dominic's lip curled. "How could I know that he looks at everyone like that? Huh!" He dropped his face into his hands and dragged his fingers across his eyes. "He looks at Khalia like that too, and that's why I couldn't sell her out. Because I know what it means to be completely alone."
"Yeah," Sebastian said. His hands were in the dishwasher, and his eyes were full of tears. "Don't you think it's time you learned what it means to be accepted?"
__
The shakes had taken over Justine’s limbs. She sat on the sofa, shivering, as Sebastian finished brushing his teeth. Casey came in the door, stomping his boots and rubbing his hands together, after seeing Dominic out. He saw her.
“Ah, Justine,” he said, with a tired smile. He kicked off his boots and pulled her off the couch into his arms. She pressed her cheek against the rough wool of his jacket and sighed as his lips trailed kisses down her neck into her collar.
“Sebastian isn’t in bed,” she whispered.
“He will be in a moment.” He kissed her cheek, and her mouth. “I love you, Justine,” he mumbled against her lips. “Whatever happens, don’t forget it.”
"I love you," she sighed, sagging against him. "Case..."
He pulled her into the bedroom and shut the door. Outside, Sebastian called 'Goodnight' and Casey lifted his head and said, "'Night, Seb."
"We won't rescue anymore," Justine said into his shirt. The tears spilled out of his eyes. "This is it. This is all we can do."
"I know."
"Did we do any justice at all? All those thousands of MFPs, just like Dominic, all completely alone." She gripped his arms. "And we rescued six!"
Casey slid his fingers under her chin and lifted her face to his. His green eyes were sorrowful. "At least we got the chance to do something, Justine. I-I've prayed for the chance all my life, the chance for Casey Freedman, the worker, son of a drunk
, to do something worth remembering."
She shook him gently. "You've done much that was worth remembering."
He laughed breathlessly, and lowered his mouth to hers.
"No, Case," she leaned back, "I'm serious. There are so many in this community that love you. And think of Sebastian."
Casey released her and raked his hands through his hair. "I wish it didn't matter to me, Justine. I just want to let go of that need to be somebody. I want to call myself enough."
"You've always been my hero." She reached out for him, and Casey folded her into his arms. He could feel tears burning in his eyes.
__
Khalia lay curled up in a ball in bed. The curtains were open and the cold street-light shone across the grey covers. She stretched and stared at the pale mark on the night table. Her phone lay right beside it, and as she watched the screen went dark. It had been a minute since she'd set it down, after fiddling with it for ten minutes, fighting the urge to text Dominic. A sleepy buzz had fallen over her from a fresh dose of oxy, but there was no euphoria.
The last time she'd seen Dom, he'd been marching from Caspian, flanked by two security guards. He'd glanced at her and shook his head.
"Don't protest," he'd said when he was packing up his things, "Don't make them look at you, too."
She had already fumed to Adam, "This will jeopardize the project. His computer is clean. His phone is clean. What do you want from him?"
Adam leaned in close, smelling of coffee and cabbage soup, "Oh, and you're so good at sniffing out traitors."
Actually, she was. That was the horrible, terrible thing. She was holding all the information she needed to fix it.
It was deja vu.
"Oh Jeremy," she breathed. Tears burned, and she shut her eyes to hold them in. "I wanted it to work out. I didn't want them to know, but..."
She saw it again, behind her watery eyelids. It was the night before Jeremy's magnum opus: a strike among the workers at Caspian to demand a benefits package. It was the end in a long series of tiny sabotages Jeremy had led, things he'd designed to 'soften' Caspian up, to delay production. He'd misplaced key equipment parts, he'd fried a control panel, he'd even poisoned MFPs. And now his troop of operators and mechanics were going to bar the gates. They'd be there when Sebert's car rolled in in the morning.
She'd been trying to ignore his growing exultation. She had her laptop at the dining table, and her bottom was already sore from the metal chair seat. He paced through the house like a caged lion, ranting, his hands riving the air. She would respond now and again with a 'yes' and 'I see' as nausea grew in her belly. This would be the end of her, the end. And Jeremy was happy about it.
"Khals."
She sucked in a breath as his hands clamped around her shoulder. His fingernails bit through her t-shirt into her flesh.
"You aren't listening." He shoved his face in front of hers. "You're working. Working for them. They've always been the most important thing, haven't they?"
"J-Jeremy." She touched his cheek but he slapped her hand away.
"Self-absorbed bitch!" His hand cracked across her face. "You can never fail to point it out—I'm nothing. Well, you wait and see."
He was gone. Her shaking hand reached toward her lip and came away bloody, and in that moment she just couldn't do it anymore. She called Caspian. The next day, Jeremy was dragged out and shot by the police in front of his loyal band.
Dom would be back at Caspian in the morning. They'd be watching, but for now he was getting away with everything. Everything could go wrong, but she had all the information she needed to stop him.
Khalia picked up the phone again and lay back against the pillows. She flipped it over and over in her hands.
But it was anger that made her turn Jeremy in, and try as she might she couldn't work up the same fear and boiling indignation against Dominic—not even if she summoned the feeling of being slammed against the wall of the lab. All she saw was desperation in his eyes, and then again the grief when he'd looked at her in the hospital, telling her he didn't want her to be hurt any more.
It killed her to see him every day, to keep him at a perpetual arm's length.
Tears dropped from the corners of her eyes. "You're far more human than Jeremy ever was."
CHAPTER 20
“Ready?”
Dominic leapt inside his skin.
“What?” Khalia stepped up beside him and tugged on her wine-colored skirt. She eyed herself in the mirror and adjusted her earring. Her hair was ironed absolutely straight.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” He fiddled with his cuffs. “Your hair has been straight for the last three weeks. It was so beautiful curly.”
She glanced at him. Her eyes were bloodshot.
They walked side by side and silent into the board room where the representatives were already waiting.
__
“Good morning, Saber,” Justine said.
“Good morning.” Saber was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed and ready even though it was only five minutes after the MFPs were required to rise.
Justine smiled weakly. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
__
Casey leaned his head against the frosty window of the bus and shut his eyes. The bus was oddly quiet that morning, the only sound the turning pages of Sebastian’s book. Plato.
Justine filled his thoughts—her warm body in his arms when he’d awakened that morning, her trembling voice as she read through the Psalms, and how calmness had come over her as she read, and her gentle kiss and the look in her blue eyes as she shut the door.
Dear Jesus, take care of her. I let go.
__
“Many of our proposed changes are actually environmental changes—from the brain stimulation cycles of the late-stage biocribs, to the living quarters of the protoypes after emerging. We found that the MFP prototypes showed a higher ability to think independently, but this also can manifest as greater aggression. Upon further review, we decided that this was actually an asset. As you saw in our tests, when trained, they are excellent strategists.” Dominic’s voice rang with authority. Khalia found herself gazing at him with admiration. He gripped the clicker with one hand, gesturing with the other. Every representative was taking furious notes.
“Have the first prototypes been disposed of?” the Dutch representative asked as Dominic finished. “Or will you be keeping then to see how their temperaments mature over time?”
“We intend to keep our second round of prototypes for a longer period of observations, but as it is, we have completed our final tests, and the last prototype was scheduled for rejection this morning.”
__
“There has been a little change in plans, Saber,” Justine murmured to the MFP as she escorted him down the hall. He marched along the hallway, shoulders squared, looking very, very much like Dominic—complete with the stern, composed expression. “Dominic has been required to do a press conference. Lisa is going to be the rejection operator. I will give you to her while I process the paperwork, all right?”
Saber nodded. They passed by two guards who eyed him and gripped their guns a little tighter. Saber didn’t give them a second glance. Though, he probably didn’t know what a gun was, anyway.
Other than the two guards, the hall was deserted. The operators were at the other end of the facility. A batch of MFP1’s was shipping today. Her soft rubber-soled shoes made no noise, but Saber’s sent echoes down the empty hall.
Lisa looked up as she came in. She was arranging syringes with shaking fingers.
“Y-you take the blood sample,” she said. “I don’t think I could find the vein.”
Saber held out his arm, and Justine cut out his chip, inserted the needle and drew the sample. She slipped the vial into the envelope labeled ‘MFP202 rejection’ and picked up the sheaf of rejection forms.
“You can verify them when you get back. Go, quickly.”
“Okay. C’mon, Saber.” Lisa opened the engineeri
ng corridor and pushed Saber inside. The door clanked shut behind her.
Justine walked over to the HMI and set the incinerator to ‘normal’. It would go through its usual cycle, lest anyone check the output graphs. Then she turned over the first sheet and furiously began filling it out. Her fingers didn’t shake at all. She was calm.
When she was done she looked up at the clock on the HMI. The incinerator had ramped up to full capacity. That meant five minutes had passed.
Shouldn’t Lisa be back?
Justine’s breath quickened. Should she go down the corridor? Wait?
It was a long walk. Everything was fine. She paced for five more minutes. Lisa didn’t return.
“Oh, Jesus. Oh, dear Jesus.” Justine felt her throat swell and her lungs turn to lead. “Oh, dear Jesus.”
If something had gone wrong…
If something had gone wrong, she was supposed to leave the rejection area. She picked up the sheaf of papers and the envelope. Whatever happened, she could not be in the rejection room if someone came looking.
Everything was probably okay. Lisa would be able to find her. She would be able to sign the verifications.
The guards weren’t at their post in the corner. Somewhere, a long way off, someone yelled.
“Oh, no. Oh, no!” She broke into a run, but something forced her to slow down. “Oh, dear Jesus.”
“Hey! Justine!”
Justine jumped and spun around. Jeanna, one of the operators, was walking toward her. “Hey, Justine…”
“C-can you sign these check-by’s?” Justine extended the paperwork toward Jeanna. “I can’t find Lisa. She was supposed to be helping me.”
“No, Justine. Something’s happened.”
__
The final handshake had been made, and Dominic turned to leave the room. As he did, Khalia slipped back in. Her face was pale. She waved him over.
She put her mouth close to his ear. “Dominic. Was someone supposed to take 202 today?”
The breath was gone from his lungs. He couldn’t reply.
“Dominic.” Her hand brushed his shoulder. “One of the operators was caught sneaking an MFP out of the plant. She, the MFP, and her accomplice were all shot.”
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