Origin

by Jessica Khoury

  They see me and wave, and Aunt Harriet whispers something to him and then bounces toward me. Uncle Antonio watches for a moment, then continues into the lab building.

  “Pia! Hullo, dear! What are you up to?”

  “Sketching.” I hold the papers close to my chest.

  “May I?”

  “Well…all right.” I hand her all of the pictures except Eio’s.

  She nods and hmms over them, taking particular interest in Uncle Antonio’s. “They’re pretty good. A little…dry…but good. You’ve got to add emotion to make them great. Like the Mona Lisa.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Probably someone your Uncle Paolo doesn’t want you to meet. What’s that?” She points at the paper still in my hands.

  “Oh, nothing…it’s not done yet.”

  “Let’s see it!”

  I almost refuse, but then my will weakens. I guess some part of me needs to share him with someone, and of everyone in Little Cam, Aunt Harriet seems least likely to go running to Uncle Paolo with it. But I won’t tell her who it is. Not that. That’s too private.

  She takes the paper and nods at it for a while. “Now that’s more like it. Emotion.”

  “You think so?” I look over her shoulder.

  “Oh, yes. I wouldn’t turn this in to whoever’s in charge of you today. Might lead to questions. My, my, he is a hunk, isn’t he?”

  “A what?” The word is new to me.

  “A hunk. A…” She gestures vaguely at the picture. “A hot guy.”

  I look at Eio’s face again. My cheeks grow warm.

  “That’s the kind of face a girl wants to wake up to, if you know what I mean,” sighs Aunt Harriet. “So who is he?”

  “His name is Eio—” I slap a hand over my mouth. Pia, you idiot! What was that? Talk about a lack of self-control…I have no idea what made me say it. Maybe the need to share is stronger than I’d thought. If I were alone, I’d smack myself in the head for being so stupid and reckless.

  I now have Aunt Harriet’s full attention. She turns to face me squarely, one eyebrow raised nearly to her frizzy hairline. “Oh?”

  “Please, just give it back. It’s nothing. My imagination, that’s all…”

  She hands it back, but a smile is creeping across her face like a red caterpillar on a leaf, slow but determined. “Quite an imagination for a girl who’s barely seen a man under thirty.”

  “Not true,” I protest, but the weakness in my voice is unmistakable. I am seven kinds of idiot, I am. “You won’t tell?”

  “I’ll add it the box under my bed labeled ‘The Secret Confessions of the Immortal Pia.’ Good Lord, girl, don’t look so mortified. There’s not actually a box.”

  I gather up the rest of my drawings and wonder how I can get rid of them. There’s nothing incriminating about my father’s face, but I’d rather forget this whole episode altogether. Anyone could pull them out of a trashcan. What I really need is fire.

  “Here, give them to me,” Aunt Harriet commands.

  I’m so flustered and paranoid that I give them to her. She casually glances around, but we’re still alone. Then she crosses to the fishpond and drops the papers into the water. In moments, the images are blurred beyond comprehension. They might as well be harmless pictures of fern leaves.

  “I didn’t mean to draw him,” I whisper. “I was just doodling. Not paying attention.”

  “Typical of a daydreamer,” she says, gathering up the wet, ruined papers. “I had a friend in school who would stare out the window all through history class, absently doodling curse words across her exams. Needless to say, she failed the class.”

  “I’ve never studied history,” I comment blandly, though the fact is completely irrelevant to my current predicament. I’ve never been in so many predicaments in such a short time in all my life. I worry, a little madly, that I’m doomed to live an eternity of rapidly accumulating secrets and dilemmas. How much tension can a person hold before they burst?

  “I need a swim,” I conclude, but then I remember the plants I’m supposed to be drawing, and my misery doubles.

  Aunt Harriet studies me as if I were a jigsaw puzzle missing all the corner pieces. I feel like a jigsaw puzzle missing all the corner pieces.

  “What you need,” she says at last, whispering because Clarence is trundling past with a bin full of dirty towels, “is to think back on the offer I made you a few days ago.”

  It takes only a second for me to connect the dots. I sum her up warily, wondering where the catch is. “So you still need an ‘assistant’ to help you with your research?”

  “Right-o.”

  I stare at the tops of my white sneakers, wondering if I’m as translucent as it seems. “How did you know?”

  “That the boy in the picture probably has something to do with your disappearance?” She twists her lips wryly. “Oh, Pia, I know how a teenage girl’s mind works. It wasn’t so long ago that I was a teenage girl myself, you know.” She giggles. Giggles. Like one of the little girls in Ai’oa. “Once, in high school, I had three boyfriends at the same time. I remember a few nights when I had three dates in a row.” She giggles again. “And, you know, not one of them ever found out about the others. I was that good.”

  “Boyfriends?”

  She blinks. “You…don’t know what a boyfriend is? Oh. Oh, Pia. Darling. You are sheltered, aren’t you? A boyfriend is a…you know…a guy that you like and who likes you back. Well, more than likes.”

  I stare blankly.

  “Oh, never mind. That’s a lesson for another day.”

  Boyfriends. Huh. That’ll be something to ponder later. I imagine having three Eios and decide Aunt Harriet is definitely nuts. One is hard enough to keep up with. “So…if I get permission to spend a few days a week with you…”

  “And if you were to disappear for the better part of each day…”

  “They might never even know.” I reason it over like any good scientist would. “It would be tricky. I’d have to know exactly what you were doing every minute I was away, in case someone asked. We couldn’t even once let an error slip.”

  “Easily done. As you’ve no doubt noticed, I’m an excellent liar.”

  “Would they even let me? After all that’s happened…”

  “There is one thing, Pia, that may always be relied upon when it comes to scientists like the ones in Little Cam.”

  “Yes?”

  She grins and taps a finger to her nose. “Pride.”

  According to Aunt Harriet, Uncle Paolo and the Immortis team are so blinded by their success in creating me, they can’t imagine me willfully crossing them. They’ve always been on the lookout for accidental corruptions of my mind and character, outside influences that would distract from my destined role as head of their team. But the thought of me purposefully thwarting their rules is as unfathomable to them as the idea of a paramecium waving its fist at them from beneath the microscope, refusing to be observed any longer, and marching off the slide.

  I’m not sure I agree with her, but I go along. After all, her refrigerator idea worked out neatly enough. Perhaps there’s more to Aunt Harriet than I initially gave her credit for. Whether I like it or not, she’s fast becoming my closest confidant in Little Cam. And also the greatest threat to my future as a scientist—at least that’s what Uncle Paolo would say if he found out about all the things she’s said and done. Why, then, am I not running straight to him right now, confessing everything?

  I suspect the reason has much to do with the fact I unconsciously drew Eio’s face on that paper. I dream of my immortals, yes…but can’t there be room in my heart for more than one dream?

  We walk through A Labs, looking for Uncle Paolo. The thing I’m learning about Aunt Harriet is that she backs up her words with immediate and bold action. No sooner did I agree to accept her offer than she started charging off to make it final.

  We find him—and the rest of the Immortis team—in none other than my own lab. My mother pores ov
er several spreadsheets on the counter. Dr. Haruto Hashimoto, a severe but brilliant Japanese biochemist, greets us with his characteristic frown. Drs. Jakob Owens and Sergei Zingre smile warmly; they’re the nicest of the team. I always feel a little swell of my own pride when I see them all together in their crisp white coats. My team. The minds behind my existence. I owe them everything, and one day I will be one of them.

  As I look around, I find myself studying the structure of their faces and the colors of their eyes, comparing them to Eio’s. Does he belong to one of you? My eyes flick back to Uncle Jakob, who is probably the most unpredictable of them all. It’s definitely not Uncle Haruto.

  “Pia, we were just about to send for you!” exclaims Uncle Paolo. “And Dr. Fields, hello. What brings you to us?”

  “I need to talk to you, Paolo, if you please,” says Aunt Harriet.

  “Of course, what—”

  “Alone.”

  He looks a little stunned, but he nods, and they step into the hall. Meanwhile, I’m left with the rest of the Immortis team. I think of what Eio said the first night we met, about family being more than just blood. I look around at these scientists who raised and mentored me, and I think I know what Eio meant.

  Perching myself on a metal stool, I smile and tap Uncle Sergei’s clipboard. “So why were you looking for me?”

  Uncle Haruto answers in his stern tone, “We should wait for Dr. Alvez.”

  “Aw, Haruto, give it a rest,” drawls Uncle Jakob. “She’s as much one of us as you are. There’s no secret here.” He turns to me, ignoring Uncle Haruto’s disapproving scowl, and winks.

  “We’re going to have guests,” he says.

  “Guests? Who?” I sit up straight, heart quickening. “People from the outside?”

  Uncle Jakob nods. “From Corpus.”

  “What’s that?”

  Uncle Haruto hisses warningly, but Uncle Jakob rolls his eyes. “Paolo was gonna tell her anyway. What’s the harm? Corpus is the company that keeps this place running, Pia. They fund the research, send new scientists like Dr. Fields when we need them, stuff like that.”

  “And now they want to see you,” Uncle Sergei says. “Corpus has not been to Little Cam for nearly twenty years, and now they are coming. It will be extremely important that we give our best impression. They don’t like what they see here, they shut us down”—he smacks the table—“just like that.”

  “Shut us down?” The room suddenly feels cold. “They would do that? But—”

  “Pia, Pia,” Mother interrupts. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course they won’t shut us down. Because you’re going to show them that there is nothing in the world more important than Little Cam.” Her eyes catch and hold mine. “Right?”

  I know she means Right, I’m going to show them, but the look she gives me almost seems to ask, There’s nothing more important than Little Cam…right, Pia?

  “When will they get here?” I ask, averting my gaze from her all-too-penetrating stare.

  “Three days,” Uncle Jakob replies. He looks around the lab, which is cluttered with old papers and empty coffee mugs, and sighs. “We have a lot of work to do.”

  “What work?” asks Uncle Paolo, as he and Aunt Harriet step back into the room. I watch her for some clue as to what the outcome of their conversation might be, but her face is blank.

  “He told Pia about Corpus,” Uncle Haruto says, throwing his hands in the air. “I told him to wait for you.”

  Uncle Paolo sighs and gives Uncle Jakob a hard look, but Uncle Jakob just shrugs. “Fine, then,” Uncle Paolo says. “It’s told now, and that’s what matters. Pia, we’ll all be busy the next few days, cleaning this place up and preparing for the guests. We’ll need Antonio’s help, so your usual lessons will be canceled. Instead, I’ve decided to assign you to Dr. Fields for now, at least until everything gets back to our normal schedule.”

  “Oh,” I say casually. “Okay, then. If you think that’s best.”

  He nods crisply. “Of course. I’d been thinking about it for a while now, anyway.”

  Over his shoulder, Aunt Harriet gives the slightest of winks.

  SEVENTEEN

  “Welcome, Pia!” Aunt Harriet says with a wide smile as I stare at her lab. It’s in a building of its own, a small structure hardly bigger than Clarence’s gardening shed; it used to hold spare Jeep and truck parts, which they moved to the garage to make room for Aunt Harriet. The place is a wreck. Papers are pinned haphazardly to the wall, cages with mice and rats are stacked in tilting towers in the corners, and nearly a dozen microscopes are lined across a long table in the center of the room. Aunt Harriet appears to be moving from one to the other with the speed of a bee buzzing from flower to flower. I wonder how she can possibly be learning anything of importance in all the clutter and confusion.

  “So, what are you doing here?” I ask as I pick up a bleached lizard skull I nearly stepped on when I entered the room.

  “Here?” She gives the room a frazzled glance.

  “No, here. In Little Cam. Why are you here at all?”

  Aunt Harriet frowns. “I’m a biomedical engineer, Pia.”

  “Yes, I know that. But what’s all…this for?”

  “Ah. Well, before I came to Little Cam, I worked for a company that researched cloning. You know what cloning is?”

  “Yes,” I reply, a bit insulted. “I know what cloning is.”

  “Well, how am I to know what they do and don’t tell you? I suppose you’ve never heard of Dolly the sheep—”

  “Dolly the sheep. Born the fifth of July, 1996, and died of progressive lung disease on February fourteenth, seven years later—”

  “Okay, okay,” Aunt Harriet waves a hand. “Enough. I get it.”

  “You’re the one who cloned Dolly?” I regard her with newfound awe.

  “Well…no. Actually, I had nothing to do with Dolly. But I did work in the same facility, and I saw her a few times, so…Anyway, I was pretty good at my job, and so they asked me to come down here. They never said exactly what it was I had to clone—at least, not until a few days after I arrived. Since then, of course, I knew all about the true purpose of Little Cam—you. So now they want me to research the possibility of cloning immortals.”

  “Cloning immortals,” I whisper. “Of course. It’s the perfect idea. We could—”

  “Bypass the five generations of sitting around waiting, yes, yes. Exactly.”

  “Is it possible?”

  She spreads her hands. “That’s what I’m here to find out. Of course, my job would be much simpler if someone would just tell me the whole truth behind this place.”

  “You mean the old wing in B Labs?” I ask.

  “That,” she replies with a twitch of her brow, “among other things. For example, what is this ‘catalyst’ everyone talks about but never produces? If I knew what it was that makes elysia safe to drink, I could progress in my research by absolute bounds.”

  “They haven’t told me, either,” I confess. “It’s one of the reasons I want to be on the Immortis team so badly. They’ll have to tell me.”

  “Well, until old Harriet’s likewise proven herself, looks like I’m also to be in the dark. Oh, here, give me that.” She crosses the room and takes the lizard skull out of my hands, then perches on the edge of her table—the only place clear enough for sitting in the room—and turns the skull over in her palm. “Don’t you find it strange how mysterious all of this is? First this catalyst, then that hallway.”

  I nod, wishing I could disagree instead. “I’m sure…I’m sure it’s all for a good reason, though. The secrets and the lies. There must be a reason or Uncle Paolo would tell us both the truth.”

  She studies me closely, as if curious what my skull looks like. “You really think so?”

  “I…of course.” I don’t miss the moment of hesitation, and I can see that she doesn’t either. But Aunt Harriet just pushes back stray frizz from her eyes and sighs.

  “I guess all will be revealed in t
ime, eh? Likely it’s all some kind of dramatic display to make them feel important and mysterious. Don’t be fooled by all the rigidity and sterilization, Pia. Scientists are showmen at heart—only more boring and with bad eyesight.”

  I nod uncertainly. “So…how exactly am I supposed to get out of here?”

  “Oh, yes!” She jumps up, tossing the skull into a half-unpacked box of safety goggles. “I nearly forgot, caught up in all that cloak-and-dagger tripe. Come on, let’s see if the coast is clear!”

  The gate is only a stone’s throw from Harriet’s lab, and the stand of trees in the middle of the drive provides an excellent screen between it and the rest of Little Cam. The drive is empty, and the gate is attended by one lonely guard. He sits outside the fence, with his back to us. We stand in the doorway of the little lab, leaning against the frame and trying to look nonchalant.

  “What about him?” I ask. “And how will you open the gate?”

  “It’ll be opened for us,” is her confident reply. “Come on.”

  I follow her across the drive to the spacious tin-roofed carport under which the Jeeps are parked. She walks down the line of vehicles until she reaches the last one, which she taps on the hood. “Here it is. Every day, at lunchtime, one hulking guard will drive out to Falk’s Glen to change shifts with another hulking guard. Same thing happens at dusk. Simply be on the Jeep heading out and come back with the afternoon shift, and you’re golden. Of course, we can’t use this method every time or you’re bound to get caught. We’ll just have to play it day by day. There’s more than one way to skin a tapir.” She laughs.

  “There’s nothing to hide under,” I point out. “Do you have some canvas or blankets?”

  “Psh! Use your head, Pia. Of course there’s something to hide under.” She pats the hood of the Jeep again.

  Her meaning dawns in a flash. “Oh…”

  “Oh, come now, it’s even better than my refrigerator idea!”

  I kneel and peer at the undercarriage of the Jeep. There are certainly plenty of ways I could wedge myself in.