by Sarah Porter
“That sounds right?” I tell him. More or less, anyway.
“Ah. Perhaps your passage here from other spheres will allow you to bring us some sorely needed perspective. It was not a virus, you say, that sparked your existence. Your reasoning seems apt. What then?”
It was a mistake to mention my dad; it just makes everyone resent me. “There are parasitic algae that can do the same thing a retrovirus does: they invade cells and write over sections of DNA. But because algae are a lot bigger, scientists could engineer them to copy whole chromosomes from whatever animal they infected first, then when they moved on and infected people, they could write those chromosomes over big chunks of human DNA. In theory, that could have been how it happened.”
It’s just a theory. Since the scientists at Novasphere who worked on the project were murdered and their computers were burned, it doesn’t seem like anyone is ever going to know the details.
Rowan looks impressed and gives me a quick thumbs-up, curling his fingers into his flipper. So even if we were arguing last night, he’s still my friend, anyway. Gabriel doesn’t look up from the table, but I notice his mouth tighten as a flare of red shoots through his cheek. What’s aggravated him this time?
“Algae,” Dr. Jacoway muses. “Algae. Yes, that’s better. The crash of the waves, the inexorable drag of the tides, Aphrodite herself emerging from the foam. And the chimeras appeared, as we know, here on Long Island, a spit of land caught between sea and sea. Perhaps indeed we may find that all of you are a dream cast on our shores.”
Gabriel lifts his head up, scowling. He’s never quiet for this long. “Are you for real, Dr. Jacoway? Aphrodite? That has nothing to do with anything. We’re not some dream. We’re the new reality.”
At my old school nobody ever would have gotten away with being so rude to a teacher, but Dr. Jacoway just bobs his head and flaps his arms with this slow, vague beat. The breeze from the open window stirs his gray scribble of hair. He looks pretty absurd, but no one’s laughing now. All at once there’s a sense in the room that whatever is happening is crushingly serious.
“A fair objection, my angel Gabriel. But. Watson and Crick, Gabriel. Their discovery of the structure of DNA.”
“So they discovered it.” Gabriel isn’t even pretending to show respect. Dr. Jacoway has his problems, but he’s much too nice to be treated this way. “We know that.”
“They considered a number of structures DNA might have. There was more than one possibility, you see. But they pursued the famous double helix because of its beauty. Because it was a spiral staircase fit for life itself to climb, like a lady elegantly ascending to nature’s present multiplicity. Their intuition proved correct. Beauty is what led them to the truth, Gabriel. May it do the same for us.”
No matter how bad the blue creeped me out last night, I have to admit that it’s always been beautiful: as changeable and wild as moonlight on water, but smart, playful, and so free. And leading me to the truth was probably exactly what it wanted to do. I just couldn’t handle it. My legs tense with the urge to run straight back to the woods. I need to go there alone as soon as I possibly can. Search for whatever it wanted me to see.
Gabriel’s fuming, the static on his skin speeding up and shifting green and orange. “I don’t think the truth is beautiful. It’s usually ugly as dirt. What was so beautiful about your friends getting their brains blown out?”
Dr. Jacoway’s friends? What is Gabe saying?
“Will you think me heartless, Gabriel, if I tell you that it was? It’s no use to pronounce to me how ugly it ought to have been. I was there. I saw it for myself. The supernovas of gore on the windshields, the hands clawing at glittering asphalt, the sun reflecting on the pool of my own blood as I neared death. I have never been the same. I know far better than you can how my mind was shattered that day, and what wonderful people were lost. But in my own grief, in my own brokenness, I still see stars.”
Chapter Seventeen
I CAN’T RUN out on class or chores without everyone noticing. I go through the motions for the rest of the day, scooping hot laundry from the dryers and folding tiny shirts. This time I get a stack of Indigo’s clothes, their backs covered in brownish burns from her tentacles. Marley scowls nearby, never making eye contact. She’s folding clothes like her hands are almost too heavy to move.
“I liked what you said in class,” I try, after a while. “I mean, I don’t think it’s actually like that. But it was still interesting.”
She gives me a sidelong look, like I might be making fun of her, but I guess whatever she sees in my face helps her trust me a little.
“I wish I’d kept my mouth shut! When I was at home, I never thought about anything like that. But here there’s nothing else to do, and suddenly I can’t stop all these horrible ideas from coming in my head. I need to stop thinking so much.”
“Why shouldn’t you think about everything that’s happened? There’s a lot to figure out.” I take a deep breath. At home, I know, we never would have had anything to do with each other, maybe said hi in the hallway at most. I would think she was bland and boring, and she’d probably think I was a weird know-it-all. Here, though, she must be feeling really alone—and anyway she’s starting to change. Maybe into someone I could sincerely like. “It’s cool that you’re trying to understand stuff!”
“Ada?” Marley asks. Is her lip trembling? “You don’t think having thoughts like that means there’s something wrong with me? I almost feel like there’s something happening in my brain. And then, my parents were always taking me to doctors, way more than normal, and I wonder if they knew—that I was messed up somehow.”
I give her shoulders a quick half hug; I got dragged to doctors a lot too, and learning that Marley was as well nags at me, like it might mean something. But right now what matters is showing her some support.
“If there’s something happening to you, I think it’s probably positive. Like, it was hard for you coming here, but now it’s making you stronger. That’s all.”
Marley manages a smile, and after that I notice she’s working a little more quickly.
The whole time I’m pouring in detergent and loading the machines, I can’t stop wondering about Dr. Jacoway. Did he really survive the massacre at Novasphere? Everyone seemed freaked out by what he was saying, but no one acted surprised; they obviously knew the story already. So why did he ask us where chimeras came from, when he might be the only person alive who knows the whole truth? Or was he so devastated that he lost part of his memory? He definitely acts like he might have some kind of brain damage.
The second the clock hits five, I tell Marley I have to get to the bathroom and then I dash out, up stairs and around bends; it generally takes ten minutes or so for everyone to finish whatever they’re doing and drift to the lobby or the beach. As I step out the front door, my hair swirls in a gust smelling of trampled wildflowers and pine.
I want to reach the woods before anybody sees me. I can always say that I was just going for a walk, but what if someone tries to tag along?
As long as I’m in view of the windows, I walk slowly, watching the coils of red heat tangling with the wind, which is aqua and silver and a blue like dusk, but brighter. Every sunbeam striking the grass and leaves scatters a violet fringe over the air. The metallic buzz of insects carpets the ground. I sit to glide down the same grassy hollow as last night.
Once I reach the tree shadows, I stop and glance around. Three of the smaller kids are skipping rope near the main entrance, then the hill streaks down filled with nothing but daisies. Red smolders everywhere, it’s so hot out, but there’s nowhere much anyone could hide in the meadow. I wander along the wood’s edge for a while, trying to find the exact spot where the blue led me in among the trees. It’s probably annoyed with how I acted last night, so I have to assume it won’t be coming to help me out. I’m on my own.
It all looks so different in daylight that I can’t be sure, but I think I recognize a branch bent like an
elbow. Maybe the woods here don’t go too far back, but it’s just hitting me now how unlikely it is that I’ll find whatever it is I’m looking for. It could be as small as an ant; it could be hidden under a root; I’ll probably walk right past it and have no idea. The shadows thicken until it’s like walking through green glass shading up to ruby where the rising heat gets trapped by the branches. It’s cooler in here, quieter, with no sounds but a few rustlings and the swoop of bird song.
The rustling is a tiny bit too cautious, too conscious-sounding, for an animal.
I had a feeling that this was going to happen. Gabriel and maybe even Ophelia are getting too paranoid about me to let me just wander off on my own. I crouch down pretending to look at a ruffled yellow mushroom, then glance around. The heat today is pretty good camouflage, but in the shade it’s not body temperature, and there’s an upright shape back there that’s a touch brighter than its surroundings. Whoever it is, they’re trying to hide behind a spruce.
“Hi,” I call. I’d assumed at first the shape was Gabriel, but now I’m wondering if it’s too thick for him. “I can see you, so you might as well come out.”
Rowan gives a theatrical sigh and walks around the tree. “Sorry, Ada. Now you’ll really think I’m a dork.”
I’m so completely disappointed in him that for a moment I just stare, and he bends down to tug at a loose branch that got caught in his shoelace.
“I didn’t think you were someone who would do this. Like, spy on me? Rowan, come on!”
“You could give me the benefit of the doubt. That I have a good reason for it, and that I’m—as much on your side as I can be, considering what I am. I remember what you did for us, Ada. That means a lot to me.” He raises one flipper-hand as if he were reaching out to touch the stitches on my forehead, though he’s still too far away.
“But not to Gabriel,” I say. “It doesn’t matter to him at all. Not to Ophelia, either.”
He walks closer, shaking his head. He doesn’t really have a neck, so the movement makes his fur bulge out above his shirt.
“Ophelia’s on your side, too. As much as she can be. So, hey, where are you heading, anyway?” He grins, but his eyes look sad.
“I’m out for a walk.”
He grimaces. “You know, I’m not Gabriel. Just because he’s my friend doesn’t mean you have to act like I’m some kind of extension of him.”
“If you’re following me, you’re probably reporting back to somebody. But I don’t even know where I’m going, so that wasn’t a lie.”
I sound defensive. Do I really think I owe it to Rowan to tell him everything?
Rowan tips his head, considering that. “Okay, so I am. Reporting on you. But not to Gabriel, and not because I want to get you in trouble. Believe it or not, I’m trying to keep you out of trouble.”
I turn to walk on, and Rowan stays close beside me, just as if I’d gone exploring with him on purpose. He’s not really built for moving quietly through woods, and his sneakers shuffle and snap twigs way more than mine do.
“If it’s not to Gabriel, then it must be to Ms. Stuart.”
“Good guess. She thinks you might be hiding something important. So, if I follow you, then I can tell her that you were just sitting on a log and daydreaming or whatever. Not—doing anything she’d be upset about. See? I’m on your side.”
“What does she think I’m doing?”
“Maybe sneaking out here to have long conversations with some invisible entity? Think of how you’d feel if you’d been looking for something for thirteen years, and you suspected that the one person who might have the ability to see it had decided to keep it a secret. You’d be seriously pissed. And she’s smart to be suspicious of you, anyway. I haven’t said anything to her, but I’m almost positive you’ve seen things here and just pretended to have no idea. Right? Are you going to come out and say it, or should I?”
I guess I’m not surprised that he knows so much. He stops with his hand on my shoulder, and gently tugs me around to look at him. His pink face gleams with sweat—it must be terrible having fur in this weather—but his gaze is warm and honest.
“If I say it, will you decide to trust me?”
“I already trust you. Really, Ada. The problem is more everybody else.”
“You’re talking about the hole in the fence,” I say. My heart starts drumming crazily, just from hearing myself admit that much. “You’re talking about how you leave the grounds whenever you want, even though we’re all supposed to be locked up here. And if the people outside ever saw you swimming around free, they would smash down the gate for real and kill as many of us as they could.”
I almost say that he must have some huge reason to put us all at risk like that or he would never do it, but I stop myself. I’m not about to mention anything about his pet sea monster, either.
Rowan stares into my eyes for a while, looking for anything I’m still hiding. I gaze straight back. I’m better prepared this time, and after a few moments, he nods.
“I honestly don’t worry too much about anyone out there noticing me. When I’m in the water you have to get right up in my face to know I’m not a seal, and I don’t let that happen. What are you, forty-five, forty-six? I’m only, like, forty-one. Seal is a big part of me. I want to make sure you really understand that.”
I can make out the wall now, the gray stones shining through the trees up ahead. I probably shouldn’t blame Rowan—I wasn’t going to find whatever it is anyway, not without the blue here to guide me—but the sight of that wall weighs on me. It’s hard not to feel like a failure. A few white birch trees gleam like searchlights behind him.
“Seals are awesome,” I say, but I’m not really focused on him now. “It’s one of the best animals you could get. I have no idea what I am.”
“Ms. Stuart thinks you might be part mantis shrimp. Even though they’re not native here. One could have escaped from an aquarium, maybe.”
It takes a second for that to get through to me, but when it does, I almost fall over. The ground seems unstable here, somehow. “Part shrimp?”
“Mantis shrimp. And they’re actually really cool,” Rowan starts to say. “They—”
Beneath my feet the earth gives way. Rowan shouts and lunges for my arm, and misses, but his momentum sends him stumbling forward. I go skidding on my back down a steep slope covered in rocks that roll away whenever I grab at them. Rowan is right behind me, flailing. He accidentally kicks me in the face.
I land hard with all the breath knocked out of me. I barely manage to fling myself out of Rowan’s way, and he still thumps down on my legs. Then we’re both lying panting in a twilit cave. Light filters from the hole we fell through and rebounds off the craggy walls around us.
“Ada? You’re okay?”
“I think just bruised. Plus you’re crushing my calves.” He gives a half laugh and heaves himself off me. “How about you?”
“Bruised. The fur helps some.”
The light isn’t just coming from outside. And it’s a touch too blue to be daylight.
Several yards away from us, there’s a dip in the cave’s floor, and something in there is glowing.
Rowan notices how my attention has turned away from him. “Ada? Do you see something over there?” He squints. “It’s so dark back there. I can’t see anything. You seriously can?”
“It’s not that dark for me.” I get up, stiff from how banged up I am, and walk over. There’s an irregular pool sunk into the stone, maybe five feet across and three feet deep. The blue is crumpled up beneath the glassy surface as if it were sleeping. Its glow floods the water up to the brim, and passing quivers cast webs of shine onto the walls.
But the blue isn’t all that’s in there.
Chapter Eighteen
THIS IS it. This is what the blue wanted me to see. Somebody—Ms. Stuart? Dr. Jacoway?—must be in the middle of a horrible experiment. Just like the blue said, they want power, though I can’t begin to imagine wh
at they’re planning to do with the things in the pool. There are dozens of them, all jostling and slithering over one another, their skins various shades of waxy yellow and whitish green. They look more or less like insanely oversize tadpoles, but their faces are human, scrunched like the faces of just-born babies, and the legs starting to emerge by their tails end in tiny human feet. There are swollen purplish dots where their eyes should be; maybe they haven’t opened yet.
I can’t hold back a shriek, and Rowan comes stumbling over, stubbing his toes on rocks that seem obvious to me. “Ada? What is it?”
What can I say to him? Rowan is so sweet and easygoing that it’s really hard to remember how dangerous it might be to trust him. I can never tell him about the blue, for one thing, or what it mouthed at me. He probably wouldn’t understand why I think Ms. Stuart wanting power could be a problem.
On the other hand, if he starts fumbling around in the pool or carries one of those things back to the light, he’ll find out for himself what made me scream.
“There’s some kind of kimes in there,” I say. Now that I’m over being startled, I kneel down to watch them, and Rowan fumbles a hand to my shoulder and kneels next to me. “But not like us. Not nearly as—human.”
Rowan stares down intensely. “My eyes are adjusting. I can see things moving. Do you think I’ll hurt one if I pick it up?”
That’s why I can’t help liking him, even if he is spying on me—because that’s the first thing he thinks about.
“Maybe it’s okay for a few seconds? They’re like tadpoles. They shouldn’t be out of the water for long.”
Rowan nods. “I just want to see. If we had a flashlight I’d never disturb them. But I kind of have to know what we’re dealing with.”
I don’t want to risk him touching the blue. It’s a weird sensation, more like a buzzing field than like solid matter, and he’ll definitely wonder what’s going on. “Let me do it. I can see them better. You might hurt one by accident.”