by Malinda Lo
Everyone turned to look at them again, but Reese noticed that Amber was the only one of the Imria without a smile on her face. She seemed pensive rather than happy.
Dr. Brand said, “I’m also very pleased to announce that we are going to make this procedure available to as many humans as we can.” A dozen questions were shouted at her all at once, and she held up her hands. “I will answer as many of your questions as I can, and my associates will be available during your tours to take your questions as well. Additionally, information on the adaptation procedure will be provided in the précis that you’ll receive later today.”
“I thought you said the procedure wasn’t one hundred percent safe,” one reporter called.
Dr. Brand nodded. “It is not. I must be honest with you. We were working very hard to save Reese’s and David’s lives when we operated on them, and for that reason we did not record everything as precisely as we would have in a controlled environment. Therefore, we are not going to make this procedure widely available just yet. First we will issue a call for volunteer test subjects. Those subjects will need to consider the potential risks very carefully. We do anticipate that some tests will not be successful, but we hope that the number of failures will be few.”
“By ‘failure,’ what exactly do you mean?”
“I mean,” Dr. Brand answered soberly, “that we do expect some test subjects to die.”
A thrum of tension rippled through the audience. “How many?” a reporter asked.
“We don’t know. We believe the fatality rate will be low. But we cannot be sure—not until we have done more tests.” Dr. Brand shifted in place and glanced at David and Reese again. “We believe that the successful test subjects will be between the ages of thirteen and eighteen. Adolescent brains are very different than adult brains, because adult brains have become specialized. In fact, the younger the subjects are the better, but we will not undertake testing on children. That is against our principles.”
“You’re going to do this to teenagers?” said an astonished journalist.
“We will only take volunteers. We believe there will be teens who are in situations where the potential for risking their lives makes sense. For example, teens who are suffering a life-threatening illness.”
“How will you find these teens?”
“We are working carefully to construct an application. We will let you know when it’s ready.”
Akiya Deyir stood and Dr. Brand moved aside so that he could approach the podium again. “Thank you, Evelyn. As Evelyn said, further information about the adaptation procedure will be made available to you later today. Perhaps in the interest of time, we could move on from this subject for now. Does anyone have other questions?”
“What about Amber Gray?” one reporter asked. “She was shot in that video, but she seems perfectly healthy now, only two weeks later. Did she use this chamber thing?”
Reese saw Amber raise her head to seek out the member of the audience who had asked the question, but it was Dr. Brand who answered it.
She returned to the microphone and said, “Our medical sciences are more advanced than yours. We operated on Amber after she was shot, but we also heal more quickly than humans. One of the prime advantages of making the adaptation procedure available to humans in the future is this lifesaving ability to heal.”
As Dr. Brand sat down, Deyir asked, “More questions?”
“In the video, it looked like Amber Gray saved Reese Holloway from getting shot, and then Amber appeared at the press conference in front of the Holloway house. What is Amber Gray’s role in all this?”
Reese remembered that the press gathered here didn’t know what she had told Sophia Curtis about Amber, because that interview hadn’t aired yet.
“Amber is a unique member of our Earth-based team,” Deyir answered. “She is Evelyn’s daughter, and unlike the rest of us, she was born here on Earth. Her role was to contact Reese after her return from the adaptation procedure and make sure that she was healing properly. Any other questions?”
An excited murmur rose from the reporters, and one said, “We want to hear from Amber herself. Can she tell us what she did to contact Reese? Did she see that bullet coming?”
Amber sat very still, making no move to stand. For one instant, she glanced at Reese, who tensed up.
“I’m afraid Amber will not be speaking to you today,” Deyir said with an apologetic smile. “She has undergone a major ordeal herself, and she won’t be making any public statements. Do you have any other questions?”
Reese let out her breath in relief. A buzz of frustration rose from the reporters in the audience around her, but it didn’t take them long to refocus.
“You said that you had a misunderstanding with the US government. Can you say more about that?”
“I’m afraid not,” Deyir said. “We are currently discussing the situation with your government and we don’t want to disrupt that process. We’ll let you know more details when we can, but I want to assure you that we believe we can move forward from this and form a solid and mutually beneficial relationship.”
“Are you behind the global phenomena of UFOs?”
“There are far too many UFOs reported for us to be the cause of them all,” Deyir answered. “It may be that some sightings were of our ships, but I estimate that is a very small percentage.”
One of the reporters shouted out a question that caused the whole crowd to fall silent: “Why do you look like us?”
The ambassador stood still for a long moment, considering the question. “For millennia—many more millennia than humans have known—we have been seeking answers to questions about our origins. The only thing we have learned for sure is that even we cannot know everything. We are born; we live our lives; we die. As individuals, we will never know—not truly—what we were before we were born. We cannot know if our consciousness was created during our gestation, or if it existed previously, scattered among the dust of the stars. We cannot know what happens to us after we die. There are places we are unable to walk, things we are unable to know.
“One of the things we have been unable to determine—that we will likely never be able to know—is the exact nature of how our species came into existence. We can approximate, of course. Some of your own theories about the origins of life are similar to ours. We can talk about proteins and amino acids or chemical stews or bacteria traveling the universe in asteroids. All of these—or perhaps none of these—are possibilities. What we do know from our travels throughout the universe and our research over time is that life, whenever and wherever it emerges, is always a miracle. The odds are stacked against it. Though we have found other life-forms—small, single-cellular organisms are plentiful—there are very, very few intelligent species out there. We have found evidence that others have existed, that they came into being and flourished and disappeared. We know that we are not the first, and we will not be the last. We know that life turns in a cycle, just as it does for each individual. Each species, each civilization is born, it flourishes, and it dies.”
Akiya Deyir looked out at the audience seated in front of him and smiled a thin, strange smile. “So, the answer to your question, I’m afraid, may not be very satisfying, but it is the truth. As Evelyn said, there is no coincidence. The fact that we have found you humans; the fact that you look like us; that we could be your siblings—it is a miracle. And we are grateful for it.”
CHAPTER 10
In order to tour the Imrian ship, everyone at the press conference was divided into groups of six, and each group of six was packed into a long SUV to make the five-minute drive from the visitors’ center to the landing spot. Reese, David, and their parents were ushered into the first vehicle, bypassing even Senator Michaelson, and their guide was Dr. Brand. It was clear that the Imria were trying to make Reese and David feel special. Akiya Deyir greeted them personally before handing them off to Dr. Brand, but Reese was wary of them both. She noticed that neither attempted to shake her or Da
vid’s hand, though they did shake their parents’ hands when they were offered. She didn’t know what she would have done if they had tried to touch her. She was nervous about their ability to sense what she was feeling, and she wasn’t sure if she could block them.
Most of the brief drive was along a wide, paved road with spectacular views of the bay on the right, but the final descent to Camp Reynolds—the abandoned nineteenth-century army post where, Dr. Brand explained, there was enough room to land the large spacecraft—was down a bumpy, gravelly road that probably hadn’t seen this much traffic in years. Through the SUV windows, Reese caught flashes of the giant ship in the spaces between pale yellow farmhouse-style buildings. Reese was the first to climb out of the SUV at the bottom of the road, and when she opened the door, the triangular ship was crouched on the ground scarcely fifty feet away from her. Its dull black walls rose smoothly into the sky, and even this close, she couldn’t see any seams or windows. The shorter end of the triangle took up the entire width of the upper portion of the field, which sloped downhill toward the bay, and the nose of the ship pointed at the water like a giant arrow. Boarded-up, whitewashed buildings lined the left side of the field, dwarfed by the vast ship, and the juxtaposition of the nineteenth-century houses with the futuristic spacecraft was jarring. Reese felt as if she were trapped between times: the human past on the left, the alien future poised to swallow it on the right.
A ramp descended from the rear of the craft, and Dr. Brand headed toward the ship. “Please follow me,” she said.
Reese knew the media was obsessed with guessing how futuristic the spaceship would be, and Julian had pestered her with dozens of theories of his own. As she stepped onto the metal ramp, she thought, This must be the future. Her anticipation, though, was laced with trepidation. She also remembered the way the spaceship had moved, silent and fast, a black shark in the sky. It was frighteningly far beyond human technology, and here she was, walking deliberately into the belly of the beast.
The ramp led into a bare, utilitarian space; the floor rang hollowly beneath Dr. Brand’s heels. All along the walls, clear plastic cases held silent erim, their eyeless heads unnervingly motionless. Reese felt the collective shock that passed through her and David’s parents as they saw the robotic soldiers.
“Don’t worry,” Dr. Brand said. “These are erim, our soldiers, but they are not active right now. They would not harm you.”
“They shot the Blue Base soldiers,” Reese blurted out. “I saw them die.”
“They did not die,” Dr. Brand said in surprise.
“I saw them get shot too,” David said.
“The weapons that the erim fire are not guns like the ones your soldiers used.” Dr. Brand went to one of the cases, and when the plastic slid open, she removed the snub-nosed weapon attached to the erim’s side. “This is our equivalent of a stun gun,” Dr. Brand explained. “I cannot fire it myself. If I did, I would collapse. Only the erim can fire it because it emits a charge that disables biological organisms.”
“How long does it disable them?” David asked.
“For several hours. They would have awakened in perfect health, though they would be a bit groggy at first.”
“So the Blue Base soldiers are alive?” Reese said.
“As far as I know. They may have been injured by the explosion, but not by our erim.” Dr. Brand replaced the weapon, and the door slid shut. She gestured toward the hatch in the wall that led into the interior of the ship. “Shall we begin the tour?”
Through the hatch was a short steel corridor—an air lock, Dr. Brand explained—that opened into a triangular atrium at least three stories high. Overhead, perforated steel walkways crossed the open space, creating a star pattern through which white light shone. Glass-and-steel balconies wrapped around the atrium, and on the bottom level—where Reese and the others were standing—was a floating globe that looked exactly like the Earth. It was suspended in midair with no visible support.
“This ship is built for interplanetary travel,” Dr. Brand said as she crossed the atrium. “So there are no real luxuries here; everything is made to serve a purpose. The lights here simulate sunlight, as there are no windows on this craft.” She paused next to the globe. “This is a three-dimensional map that can show your Earth, our home planet, or anywhere else in the universe, depending on where we’re traveling. Currently you see the Earth.”
Reese walked across the floor—it was covered in slate-gray tiles that absorbed the sound of their footsteps—and stared at the globe. Clouds moved slowly across the surface, and she could make out the ridges of mountains running down the spines of the continents. “How does this work?” she asked, her voice sounding hushed in the multistory atrium. “It’s just hanging there.”
“It’s a holographic projection,” Dr. Brand said.
Reese caught David’s eye as he followed Dr. Brand across the atrium. He grinned slightly. “Way better than three-D,” he whispered in Reese’s ear as he passed her.
Dr. Brand left the atrium through an archway, entering a corridor with dark, metallic walls. Tiny white lights ran along the seams at the top and bottom. They passed sealed doorways on either side, and came to another brightly lit triangular atrium that had a globe hovering in the center. “This is our home planet,” Dr. Brand said. “Kurra.”
It was very similar to Earth, with blue oceans and white clouds, but the shapes of the landmasses were different. There were few giant continents; instead there were many smaller islands scattered across the blue.
“Here is my home island,” Dr. Brand said, indicating a landmass shaped like a crescent. Several dots of light shone along the edges of the island. “Makkas.”
“It’s beautiful,” Reese’s mom said.
Dr. Brand smiled—a real, genuine smile—and Reese suddenly recognized Amber’s face in her. “It is,” Dr. Brand said. “At this time of year, all the flowers are in bloom, and our artisans make perfume from the blossoms to scent our homes during the rainy season.” She turned away and headed toward the corridor. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the bridge first.”
They went down another corridor that ended in a locked hatch. Dr. Brand pressed her hand to the door and it opened into a small, round room with matte metallic walls and a shiny black floor. Once they were all inside, the door slid shut again and the room began to rise.
“The ship has three levels,” Dr. Brand explained. “The first level is for common spaces—the dining hall, recreation areas, and the kitchen, as well as ship administration. Level two is for labs and offices. The third level contains all sleeping quarters and private spaces, but it’s also where the ship’s bridge is accessed. This elevator goes directly to the bridge first, and after you’ve seen that we’ll proceed back down to the first level.”
When the elevator came to a stop, the doors slid open to reveal a triangular room with a circular table at its center. The table’s surface was a hard, polished black, and above it another globe was suspended. This one showed a star system, hovering like a tiny spherical universe in midair. A man who was seated at the table slid his hand across the surface, and Reese noticed something flicker out of sight, as if a computer screen had been shut off.
“Welcome,” the man said, standing to greet them. He had light brown skin and dark hair, and he was dressed in what looked like a flight suit made out of black synthetic material that resembled scuba gear.
“This is Hirin Sagal,” Dr. Brand said, “the captain of our ship.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Sagal said.
He reminded Reese of Malcolm Todd. They had similar features—sharp cheekbones and an angular jaw leading to a pointed chin.
Dr. Brand went to the table and touched the surface. A light shimmered beneath her hand, and the two facing walls rippled to show the entire vista of San Francisco Bay, just like a window. “This is an image of the view outside,” Dr. Brand said.
The image was so crystal clear that Reese had to walk right up
to it to convince herself it wasn’t a real window made of glass. She saw sailboats on the bay, the sunlight glittering over the brownish-gray water, and Sausalito in the distance.
“Is this table a computer?” David asked.
“Yes,” Dr. Brand said.
“How does it work? There are no keyboards. Is there a screen?”
The captain answered, “The surface can become either, if you wish. But typically we issue commands to the computer via touch and neural instruction.”
“You mean through thinking?” David said.
Reese joined them at the circular table as Sagal called up a display in the surface that showed a diagram of the ship. There were tiny blips in the nose of the triangle that Reese realized must represent the eight of them in the bridge.
“It is done through thought, yes,” Dr. Brand said, coming to stand beside Reese. “Voice commands may also be used, but of course, not in English.” She said something in Imrian and the windows darkened, returning to blank metallic walls.
“The thought commands—how are they relayed to the computer?” David’s father asked.
“It is similar to the way we share consciousness. The computer surface,” Dr. Brand said, indicating the table, “receives our instructions via touch.”
“If I touch the table can I make it do something?” Reese asked, leaning over the image of the ship.
Sagal stepped toward her and she withdrew her hand. “I would not recommend it,” he said.
“It does require a certain amount of control,” Dr. Brand said. “I don’t believe your thought processes are focused enough yet. Most humans have quite chaotic thought patterns because they’re not accustomed to sharing them with others. But even our children, when they are young, do not have control over their thoughts, and until they learn that control, they use voice commands. A confused thought pattern simply won’t work.”
“How do they learn to control their thought patterns?” Reese asked.