The Amber Project: A Dystopian Sci-fi Novel (The Variant Saga Book 1)

by JN Chaney

  She didn’t know what to do. The prospect of keeping tabs on Terrance was enticing. As James had said, Terrance was the first of her Amber children to live, the only survivor. None of the others had made it beyond the first trimester. When the boy was born, everyone knew they’d entered uncharted territory. During his first few years, doctors came and went, examining and re-examining, but after a time they stopped. They’d begun to relax but not Mara. She never stopped worrying, never let herself forget any of the other failures. And now she had a chance to keep an eye on her little boy—something that none of the other mothers could claim. The real question was should she take the offer? And if she did, what would happen if the rest found out?

  She’d be shunned, ostracized. All her years of garnering respect and prestige would be thrown away. She’d be a laughing stock.

  So what if she was? It wasn’t like Mara had any real friends anymore, and soon enough, she’d be retired. All the gossiping fools in the city meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

  James had certainly given her a lot to think about.

  The train station was nearly empty when she arrived, with the exception of a young woman and a teenage boy. Mara recognized the girl as one of the newer mothers, not fresh out of the academy, but new enough that she’d yet to sign a contract. She wore a small purse over her left shoulder—blue with a black trim, the kind they sold in the plaza nearby. The boy, on the other hand, was a stranger. Near the back of the platform, dressed in dirty clothes (probably from the slums), he sat silently on the bench. What was he doing all the way in Central? He didn’t have anything with him, at least as far as Mara could see. Was he visiting someone? Why so late?

  The train soon rolled in, filling the platform with thunder and a swirl of hot air. As it came to a stop, the raggedy boy on the bench rose and made his way closer to the other woman. The girl, intently staring at her pad’s screen, paid him no mind.

  The doors slid open, and Mara approached the one closest to her. She watched as the boy and the girl both entered through another door down the platform. The train was completely empty, aside from the three of them.

  Mara took a seat close to the front. The boy inched closer to the girl, who still had her eyes glued to the pad. As he drew near, the doors began to close. Suddenly, he launched himself at her, snatching the purse from her shoulder and dashing back to the platform. The girl screamed and fell back, catching herself on the handrail and dropping her pad.

  Mara snapped to her feet and ran to the girl. “Are you alright?” she asked.

  “He took my purse!” she yelled, still on the floor, pointing at him through the glass.

  The train rumbled as it began to move. The boy stood and watched as it left the platform.

  The girl kicked the floor with her heel, cursing. “Jerk! That was my only purse.”

  Mara helped her stand. “Relax. At least you’re okay.”

  “My mother gave it to me, though,” she said, her voice quivering. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  Mara didn’t know what to say. The girl could file a report, but the chances of her getting that purse back were basically nonexistent.

  Mara leaned against the window, and watched the buildings begin to slide away.

  As the train passed through the tunnel between Central and the neighboring district, the cab’s lights flickered, and finally dimmed.

  Mara folded her arms, and she closed her eyes. She tried to clear her thoughts, to set everything aside, but she kept picturing the look on her son’s face the last time she’d seen him when she’d said goodbye.

  She trembled. What’s wrong with me?

  She put her forehead on the seat in front of her and felt the warmth of the blood as it rushed to her cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to forget about the boy she’d sent away—the son she’d given up all for the good of her race.

  “Please don’t die,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Please just stay alive.”

  Chapter 4

  Archer’s Personal Logs

  Play Audio File 06

  Subtitled: Initial Testing

  Recorded August 22, 2316

  ARCHER: I can’t believe the level of stupidity I’ve had to deal with on this project. Just because I’m twenty-nine, it doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about. And yet that’s the perception around here. My ideas are constantly ignored, not because they’re flawed, but because of my youth. My vigor. My passion.

  I went to Doctor Mayhew yesterday afternoon with an idea, but he rejected it outright. Oh, yes, he nodded along the same way he always does, but I could tell he wasn’t listening, and I knew what the answer would be even before he opened his mouth. What an arrogant fool. I swear he’s already turning senile. And I used to think so highly of him.

  I suppose it doesn’t matter. What truly matters is that I record what I know to be the solution. I need to get it all out. I need to have proof that it was mine first, just in case the old fool steals my idea or if something happens to me. I need the record to show the truth.

  So here we go:

  Regarding compound R2-16V, commonly known as Variant, the airborne catalyst, I, Doctor William Archer, present my findings and hypothesis.

  As the record shows, the solution originally proposed was to modify the cell membranes to block the foreign bodies before they had the chance to infect the cells. Despite all attempts, the results were always the same. Moments after the initial injections, the germ-lines of the embryos appeared to be stable, but a few hours later, the accelerated replication of the cells would ensue. As the cells began to replicate, they would change, sometimes drastically, until eventually deterioration would set in. This process consistently resulted in the death of the cells. Before even a full day, the human cells became completely dead, while the catalyst remained intact, ready to move on to the next organic compound it could find.

  These experiments were being conducted under the presumption that the solution was to strengthen and modify the cell membranes, blocking the catalyst before it could even enter. It was a theory based on centuries of traditional science. And it failed. Why? Because deep down in the back of our minds, we are fundamentally afraid of change.

  But Nature operates on change, on adaptability. If we cannot adapt, we cannot progress. And if we cannot progress, we will die. If we can accept this fundamental truth, we can move forward.

  First, we must accept that the cell membranes are going to be invaded, regardless of any modifications that we make. After hundreds of different scenarios, this has always happened. What I propose, instead, is a forced cellular adaptation, a complete redesign of the cells. The catalyst’s only goal is to modify the organic tissue, but if we beat it to the punch, if we change the cells so that they’ve already modified—a variation that is both Variant and human—the catalyst will move right through the tissue, ignoring it completely. It will essentially look at the cells, see that its work has already been done, and move on.

  The end result of this will be a new race, a new breed of human, but it will be one capable of survival. We’ll be able to breathe the air again; we’ll be able to walk the Earth again. The next stage of human evolution is before us.

  We just have to get out of our own way.

  End Audio File

  April 09, 2341

  The Academy, Central

  It had been twenty-four months—two rough, exhausting years in this pit of a place they called the academy.

  Terry’s eyes burned with sleeplessness. Nearly an hour had passed since the last group left, John being among them. Mr. Nuber had gathered them together in a hurry, threatening referrals to anyone who wandered off or trailed behind. When the class finally arrived at the quad, the nurses called the first two groups in. The rest waited.

  Of course it wasn’t the first time this sort of thing happened. A year in a place like this was no less unpredictable than the first day. They were still pushed around, taken fro
m one appointment to the next with little to no explanation. Even when it seemed like things were settling down, when a few weeks passed by without any interruptions, something always happened that turned them all on their heads.

  Terry sighed, hunching over to rest his head on his knees. It was a little after four in the morning, three hours before the alarm normally went off. It’s too early for this, he thought, but he knew the adults didn’t care. All that mattered to them was that the children were on their feet and ready to go.

  The room they waited in was shaped like an octagon, with nearly all of its sides connected to other, smaller rooms. These rooms, Terry had learned, were originally intended to be labs and offices back when the city was still supposed to be a scientific research outpost. Now, however, the rooms had been converted to storage units, filled with broken hospital equipment and old desks. Terry often wondered what places like this would have been like had things not gone the way they did. How many discoveries might have happened here? How many wonders born between these walls? How many miracles?

  So much for good intentions.

  “This is so stupid,” Alex barked as he continued to pace. His voice jerked Terry’s mind back from the edge of oblivion. “Why are we even out here?”

  “You know as much as we do,” Mei answered. She sat next to Terry, swinging her short legs below the bench. “Why do you care so much?”

  “Because,” he snapped, “I have to know.”

  Mei nodded while he continued to walk around. Terry knew she could argue with him now, tell him he was being stupid or impatient, but it wouldn’t do any good. He’d only get worse. That was the problem with Alex. Instead of learning how to handle his problems, other people had to handle him.

  Mei turned to Terry. “Hey,” she said, placing her palm on his back. “You alright?”

  “What’s wrong Terry?” Alex asked, approaching them. “You gonna cry?”

  “No,” Terry muttered.

  “Looks like it to me,” he snickered. “What a baby.”

  “Leave him alone,” said Mei.

  “You his mother now, too? Guess he needs one since he’s so little.” Alex kicked Terry’s shoe. “Poor little boy can’t talk for himself, huh?”

  “Leave me alone,” said Terry.

  “Or what, huh? What you gonna do?”

  Mei leapt forward off the bench. “I’ll tell Mr. Nuber if you don’t stop it.”

  “Like I care,” snapped Alex. He pushed Mei. She shuffled backwards, nearly falling. “Goober Nuber doesn’t scare me.”

  Terry gripped the edge of the bench. If Alex came at him, at least he’d have a bit of leverage. “Leave us alone.”

  Alex stepped closer. “What did you say, turd?”

  “I said stop it.”

  “Or what? You gonna do something?” He kicked Terry hard in the leg.

  The pain shot through Terry’s limb and into his gut. He squeezed the metal lip of the bench, trying not to make a sound. He wouldn’t give Alex the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt him.

  “You like that, huh? Feels good?”

  “It’s great,” said Terry, biting his lower lip. He forced a smile.

  Mei stomped the ground. “Stop it, Alex. You’re acting stupid!”

  “Stupid? I’m not the one who likes getting hit. Right, Terry?” He kicked again. Same spot, same leg.

  Terry flinched but suppressed the need to scream.

  “I wanna know why little Terry’s got two moms. How’d you get so lucky, huh?” He pulled his foot back, readying the kick.

  Here it comes, thought Terry, tightening his grip and anticipating the pain. But as Alex’s foot began to move, Terry slid to the side, avoiding it. Alex’s ankle smashed into the bench, and he let out a sharp cry. He fell forward, cursing repeatedly. Terry scrambled away from him, leaping from the bench and toward Mei.

  Alex’s face went red immediately as he gasped heavy breaths, clasping his ankle with both hands. “You idiot! You made me hit my leg.”

  “You tried to hit him first,” said Mei.

  Alex cradled his leg with his hands. “I wasn’t even hitting him hard. He knew I was kidding!”

  The door on the other side of the room suddenly opened, and Mr. Nuber walked through. “What the hell’s going on out here? I can hear you kids all the way inside.”

  Alex got up from the ground. “It was nothing, Mr. Nuber,” he said quickly. “I fell. That’s all.”

  “You fell?” asked the teacher. He looked at Mei. “That right?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Mei.

  Nuber stared back at Alex. “What’d you fall on?”

  “I tripped over my shoe and hit the bench. It’s not a big deal.”

  “I swear if I have to come back out here, you’re all getting referrals, you hear me? I don’t want to hear anything out of you. Alex, sit down on that bench.” He shot a look at Mei and Terry. “And you two, go sit over there and be quiet. No talking.” He stormed off, back toward the hospital doors, slamming them as he exited.

  Terry didn’t dare look at Alex as he marched to the other side of the atrium. I bet he’s mad, thought Terry. I should’ve taken the beating and let him do what he wanted. But it was too late for that now. He couldn’t change it. All he could do was prepare for the next fight, whenever it might come.

  Mei furrowed her brow. “What a jerk. If John were here, Alex never would’ve done that.”

  She was right, of course. John was the toughest kid in class. If he’d been around, it never would’ve gotten so far. But he couldn’t protect them forever, no matter how hard he tried. Eventually something was bound to happen. Terry had to learn how to stand on his own feet. That was how you became a grown up.

  Nobody talked again, not at the risk of upsetting their teacher. Even Alex stayed quiet.

  Footsteps filled the quiet atrium as the receptionist returned from down the hall. “All of you come with me,” he said, snapping his fingers at them. “You’re the last group for the morning.”

  The students rushed to their feet. He led them through the double glass doors, stopping when they reached a group of men in white coats. “I’m afraid we have to separate you all now,” said the receptionist. “These other gentlemen will escort you to your individual rooms. They’ll ask you a series of questions and run some tests to see if you’re in good health.”

  One at a time, the men approached the children, taking them each through a separate hallway. There appeared to be one adult for every student.

  One of the men approached Terry. “This way, young man,” he said, motioning to another glass door to their left. “Your room is through here, third door on the right. Come on.”

  Terry followed him toward the back of the hall. Along the way, he watched as many of the other children entered their own rooms. As they arrived, the man checked his pad, tapped the screen and muttered to himself.

  “Is everything okay?” asked Terry.

  “The doctor will be right with you. Wait inside, and it won’t be very long.”

  “Why did they bring us here?” asked Terry.

  But the man didn’t answer. Instead, he nudged Terry into the room by his shoulder, closing the door.

  The room was small but not at all cramped. There was enough room for two chairs, a bed, and some cabinets. The walls were bright and uncommonly blue. In all the time that Terry had gone to school, in all his many months spent at the academy, he’d never seen a wall with such a color to it.

  After a moment, the door opened. To Terry’s surprise, a woman with glasses entered. She looked at him and smiled. “Hello there,” she said. “What’s your name?” She wore the same coat as the men in the hall, only there was a bit of red on the collar and an extra pocket near her waist. She had her hair in a bun behind her head, the same as his mother often did.

  “I’m Terry.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Terry,” said the lady. “My name’s Doctor Sanders. This is wh
ere we get to talk.”

  “Talk about what?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s nothing serious. We’re just going to talk about school. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good,” she said, sitting in the other chair. “Now, Terry, why don’t you tell me a little about how things are going for you? Are you getting along with your classmates? Any complaints to speak of?”

  Terry had more than a few complaints about school. The food, the teachers, the other students, the way they dragged them out of bed in the middle of the night so a lady in a white coat could ask him a few silly questions. There was plenty to hate, but somebody else, one of the other students, would probably say the same things. Why should he be the one to talk about it? Better to speed things along so he could get on with his day. “No. No complaints.”

  “Are you sure? There’s nothing at all?”

  He shook his head.

  “Well, alright,” Dr. Sanders said. “Let’s get on with the physical. You’ve had one of these before, I’m sure, so I won’t bother explaining, but if you have any questions you can certainly ask.”

  They went on with it for a while, the doctor poking and prodding, asking questions as she went. She inquired about each of his classmates, how they all treated him and what he thought of them. She asked about how Terry was coping with the school and the change in scenery. She even wanted to know how the blue walls made him feel.

  “Fine, I think,” said Terry.

  “Do you know why they’re blue?” asked Doctor Sanders.

  “No.”

  “Well, because the sky used to be that color.”

  Terry considered this. “But not now,” he said, remembering how Variant had made the color different. “The pictures they showed us in class were purple.”

  “Right. Now the sky’s purple. It’s a shame, really.”

  “What are those white things at the top?” asked Terry.

  “Those are clouds. Of course, I’ve never seen a cloud, personally, but the historical vids all say there used to be all sorts. Big, small, thin, fat. A little like people, I guess.”