Origin

by Jessica Khoury

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  If he’s following me, I never know it. I run too fast, leaping logs and boulders as if they were anthills. My feet barely touch the ground; I’m flying. Flying away, flying home, just like the bird Eio thinks I am. But contrary to his words, I’m not flying back to my cage. I’m not. Or if I am, it’s only for a time. I must prove to them that I’m ready.

  Yes. That’s exactly what I must do. Can’t stay here any longer. Should have listened to Uncle Paolo, should have listened to my own head. Not the heart, but the head. He was right. He’s always right. The heart leads to chaos. It regresses. The mind is the only way forward to reason and order.

  And I almost gave it all up. Weak, stupid Pia! I almost surrendered my dream—my purpose in life—for what? A kiss? And I was so close. Another moment and I would have given in, lost myself to the tidal wave of emotion.

  But at the last minute, Eio pricked his finger, and the blood flowed red. You can bleed, Eio, and I cannot. That is your weakness and my strength. It is the reason I must fly away, and you must forget about me. Please, please forget about me.

  I am sorry. Wish I’d never led him on. Wish I’d stayed in my place, on my side of the fence, and kept my eyes glued to a microscope, where they belong.

  But now I have the chance to change all that and to do what I didn’t have the courage to do before. I am strong enough, Uncle Paolo, and I will show you. Uncle Antonio was wrong, so wrong. I’m ready. I’ll do what you want, be what you want, fulfill the purpose for which you created me. I’ll create the immortals, and maybe, years and years from now, I’ll find a way to forget everything that happened tonight.

  My destiny is to live. Anger pounds through my veins, propelled by the beating of my wounded heart. Of all people to betray me—Uncle Antonio? If he’s so certain of some dark, terrible secret behind Little Cam, why hasn’t he burned the place to the ground? Destroyed the research and the immortal rats? Why does he linger, never giving voice to his true feelings? How long has he felt this way? I can’t do what he asks of me. Fulfilling my dream means I have to get my hands dirty—so what? Everyone here has had to do the same thing at some point. As Uncle Paolo said, it’s necessary. For a moment, back in the jungle, I almost gave in. I imagined getting in a boat with Eio and leaving my world behind forever. That was weakness. I nearly lost my grip on who and what I am—and what I must do with my life—for good. Now I must prove that it won’t happen again. I must be strong.

  The trapdoor is so well hidden that even my memory is fooled for a moment. Then I see it, and I tear away the leaves and rip open the door. My steps through the tunnel are much surer this time; I reach the other end quickly.

  Once I’m outside the powerhouse and in Little Cam again, the wave of adrenaline that carried me here fizzles out. It’s still night, and everyone is asleep.

  But maybe not everyone.…

  I tiptoe across the grounds to A Labs and peer around the corner of the building. There it is. The window of the elysia labs on the second floor, still yellow. Uncle Paolo is up working late.

  Good. I have to keep going. If I stop now, I may lose control again, might give in and go back, beg Eio to hold my hand and take me away.…

  Stop that thought there. No one is stirring inside the glass house. Mother’s room is quiet, but she’s always been a soft sleeper.

  My room is dark, so I turn on a lamp. I hope Eio’s not standing outside, watching me with those big, sad, blue eyes, but I can’t think about him. Can’t worry about him. Eio is his own person, and he’ll have to take care of himself. Let him run to Uncle Antonio.

  I yank open my sock drawer more roughly than is necessary. The syringe is still there, the needle as sharp and bright as it was this morning. I pick it up and cradle it gently in my palms. Not much longer now. I can almost feel the fabric of the lab coat brushing against the backs of my legs.

  I stop in front of the mirror and stare at myself, a pale, wild-eyed girl with the wind and leaves still in her hair from running through the jungle. With a little face paint, I might pass for an Ai’oan, except for the paleness of my skin. This is it. I’m going forward, and I’m never going back.

  Setting the syringe down, I stay only long enough to brush my hair and change into a clean pair of clothes. White, wide-leg pants and a simple white tank top. White clothes to go with my white lab coat. White for purity of purpose and clarity of thought.

  White for death.

  The menagerie is, of course, deserted. Uncle Jonas has left the door unlocked as usual. I flip on the row of lightbulbs overhead, and one by one they flicker and sputter to life. The animals, most of which were sleeping, give grunts and growls of irritation at being disturbed.

  I stop at Alai’s cage and look in, feeling sorry I’ve neglected him lately. I’ve neglected a lot of things that used to be important to me.

  “Hey, boy,” I whisper, though there is no one to overhear. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll take you out, maybe tomorrow.”

  He lifts his spotted head and looks at me, and for a second I’m startled at how human his gaze seems. Is the reproach in his eyes because of my neglect…or something else? He stays silent and doesn’t come to the door.

  My resolve a little shaken, I continue on to the ocelot cage. Jinx is curled up, still slumbering, but Sneeze’s little head and bright blue eyes peep open from over her spotted haunch.

  Subject 294, I remind myself. That is all he is.

  The syringe feels as heavy as iron in my pocket as I open the door of the cage and go in. Should I do it in here, where Jinx can see? Or outside, in front of Alai and everyone else? That’s ridiculous. They’re just animals, Pia. They don’t have feelings.

  I shut the door behind me, the metal bars as cold as ice in my hands. And neither should you.

  Sneeze’s body is warm and soft. He’s used to being handled by Uncle Jonas, so he doesn’t mind when I pick him up. Jinx lifts her head and twitches her whiskers, but when she sees it’s me, she yawns, baring sharp fangs, and lies back down. So unaware. So innocent.

  Just animals.

  I decide to take him out of the cage. If his mother senses I’m about to harm her offspring, she’ll go berserk.

  Against one wall, Uncle Jonas has set a metal table, where he grooms and treats the animals. It’s covered with scratches and claw marks, and I even see where something has bitten into the edge. I set Sneeze down and rub my hand along his back. He arches it and purrs, rubs his head against my hand. You’d never even know he had FIV.

  I pull out the syringe, feeling Alai’s eyes boring into my back. My hand shakes violently, and then my arm. I drop the syringe and it clatters, making me jump. Thankfully it doesn’t break. I pick it up and have to hold my wrist with my other hand to stop it from shaking. Instead, my breath begins to rattle, like Roosevelt’s just before he died. I feel like one of the maracas the Ai’oans make when they fill empty gourds with dried beans and shake them as they dance.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I chant under my breath, not knowing if the words are for me or Sneeze. The kitten blinks, yawns, and stretches, extending his little claws in front of him.

  Just do it, Pia; don’t think twice. Stop thinking. Just do it and be done.

  I hold the syringe and tremble, but my knees are going weak. I can’t stand. I scoop up Sneeze and sit cross-legged on the floor.

  Have to prove…no right and wrong…progress, regress, reason, chaos. Life and death.

  Sneeze sniffs the syringe, then rubs his head and ears over it, purring, liking the smooth, hard feel of it.

  You are the pinnacle of human perfection.…There is no greater good than you, Pia…really the greatest and most noble form of compassion.…

  He tries to jump away; there’s a cricket scuttling by, and Sneeze wants to pounce on it. I hold him back.

  You must do it; you must prove to us that you’re ready.

  I pinch the skin on the back of Sneeze’s neck into a roll and fight to steady the violent trembles i
n my hand. In his cage, Alai is on his feet, pacing back and forth, eyes watching, tail twitching.

  You can’t have regrets, and you can’t hold on to guilt. You must kill Subject 294 and be able to leave it in the past, do you understand?

  “I don’t,” I whisper, and only then do I realize there are tears pouring down my cheeks. “I don’t understand.” Alai paces, back and forth, back and forth, eyes like Eio’s, so sharp and alive and full of knowing.

  It is necessary.

  “I can’t!” I throw the syringe aside and scoop Sneeze up, burying my face in his fur. “I can’t do it,” I whisper. “I’ll never be strong enough.

  I hear a thump and look up in surprise to see my mother standing in the doorway, watching me.

  “What—what are you doing here?” I stammer. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “Weak,” she says.

  “What?” I squeeze the kitten tighter to me.

  “You were always weak, Pia. Soft. Emotional. Incompetent.”

  “I—I’m not! It’s just, he’s a kitten. What’s the point—”

  “The point,” she replies, striding toward us. She’s still dressed, so I figure she was never in her bedroom to begin with; she was probably working with Uncle Paolo in the lab. “The point is that this is what Paolo asked of you. He is a great scientist, a brilliant man, and you should be honored to work beside him.”

  “I am—”

  She reaches down and lifts Sneeze from my grasp. “You get it from your father, Pia. Certainly not me.”

  “What are you doing?”

  She bends over and picks up the syringe. “What you couldn’t do. Paolo has poured his life into you, Pia. You mean everything to him. I won’t let your weakness cost him his place in Little Cam. Not after everything he’s done for us. You will become who he wants you to be, but he doesn’t have to know that we cut a few corners.”

  “What do you—no!”

  It’s too late. She drives the needle into the roll of skin and fur. I clap my hands to my ears, trying to block out Sneeze’s whimper. Alai growls, and Jinx sits up, her hackles raised. Even the Grouch joins in, starting up his terrible long roar, lips protruding in a wide O. The other animals, roused and excited by the commotion, begin squawking, barking, growling, chattering. Too much noise! Stop, stop, stop!

  “Stop!” I cry out to both my mother and the frantic animals. Sneeze is weakening. His tail stops swinging, his paws stop trying to bat at a lock of my mother’s hair, his eyes lose their curious luster.

  He goes still. Mother tosses him to the ground beside me, the body making a sickening thud, and I recoil in horror.

  “There,” she says. “I do the dirty work, you get the credit.”

  “I won’t! I’ll tell him what you did!”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” She grabs my hand and presses the syringe into it. “You wouldn’t want the little cat to have died in vain, would you?”

  She holds my gaze for a long moment, then turns crisply and leaves the building, letting the door slam behind her. I stare after her, wondering if I even know her at all, as a sob rises in my throat. My heart convulses and tears begin falling down my cheeks. How could you, Mother? I think back to the night of my birthday party, of how safe I felt in Mother’s arms during that brief, unexpected hug.

  Was that moment a lie? I think it must have been. There was certainly no maternal warmth in her eyes tonight. The memory of that gentle embrace, which I’ve carried with me like a blanket, has been ripped away and shredded.

  She said she would do anything to keep Uncle Paolo in Little Cam, and she proved it. My mother has never been close to me. Her focus has always been on Uncle Paolo and the Immortis team, on her figures and sums. But I always felt I understood her, at least. She is the kind of scientist Uncle Paolo wants me to be, governed by cool reason and utterly focused on the task at hand. I’ve always admired that about her.

  But right now I only hate her, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for so many things at this moment, most of all for the body in my hands.

  “Oh, Sneeze,” I weep, bending over him. “Sneeze, Sneeze, Sneeze, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I look up at Jinx, barely seeing her through the blur of tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.…”

  I can’t stop crying. If this keeps up, someone will hear the racket the animals are making and come investigate. I can’t be seen like this. I must be ready, must be strong. After all, I’m one of them now. My dream is coming true.

  Above all, consider the cost, Harriet’s voice haunts. Ask yourself what it is they are demanding of you. Ponder who it is they want you to be.

  “It’s a little late now,” I say aloud. “It’s done. It was…necessary.” But why? No. I can’t think like that. It’s done; it’s over. I have to make myself accept that. I can’t bring Sneeze back, but, like Mother said, I can’t let his death be in vain.

  I stand up, Sneeze’s body much heavier than it was before, and place him on the table. Then I go to the sink by the macaw cages and wash my hands. I cover them in soap, scrub and scrub, then rinse, then do it again. I wash my hands over and over, and I have to force myself to stop.

  Then I go back and wrap Sneeze in a blanket, probably the same one Uncle Jonas wrapped him in when he was born. His head peeps out, eyes glazed over and still. Cradling the bundle in my arms, I drop the empty syringe into the trash and head for the door. Sneeze is heavy, so very heavy.

  When I flip the lights off in the menagerie, the animals finally begin to fall silent. Except Alai. Even in the darkness, I can see his eyes glowing, and a ceaseless low growl vibrates in his throat. There is something feral in his actions, something terrifying. He’s more like a wild animal than the pet I raised and pampered.

  I am glad when the door is shut and it’s just me walking quickly across the grounds toward A Labs. Uncle Paolo’s light is still on. I’ll give him his Subject 294 and be done with it.

  As hard as I try to shut out every little thought, especially of my mother, one persists until it slips through my barrier and runs around my head like an escaped and frenetic sparrow.

  If this was only the test to prepare me…what must come next?

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Today we go to Falk’s Glen to get a vial of elysia.

  Uncle Paolo and the rest of the team—no one on the Immortis team wants to miss out on a day as monumental as this—make preparations as I sit by and watch. The happy congratulations of the team as they welcomed me into their midst are still fresh in my ears, along with Uncle Paolo’s pronouncement last night: in celebration of my new status as a member of the team, we will go to the glen and bring back enough elysia to make one injection of Immortis. A week ago, this would have had me giddy with elation. As it is, my excitement is mingled with dread. I have not seen Uncle Antonio since last night in the hut, and I’m not sure I want to. His words are still parading through my thoughts in bold, capital letters. Evil in Little Cam…I stare at my hands.

  “Are you ready to go, Pia?” asks Uncle Paolo.

  “Been ready,” I reply, patting my backpack.

  “We are loading up in five minutes!” he yells. Scientists scramble to organize their bags and equipment. Really, I don’t see why they need so much stuff. It’s supposed to be just a quick trip. Go in, get one vial of nectar, and come back.

  Ten minutes later, we load up. There are three Jeeps, though we could all fit in two if not for the baggage. The scientists pack as if they’re setting up a month-long field operation. My mother climbs up beside Uncle Paolo and gives orders to the others as they load their equipment. I watch her, but she doesn’t acknowledge me. She was there last night when I showed Sneeze’s body to Uncle Paolo, and she never so much as met my eyes.

  Uncle Paolo drives one Jeep, and Uncle Timothy assigns the others to two of his men, who also carry rifles. “For safety,” says Uncle Paolo. Uncle Timothy himself is staying behind.

  When the gates finally open and we begin rumbling out, I sudde
nly realize that this is the first time I’m leaving Little Cam with permission. I’ve been sneaking out so regularly, I’d almost forgotten it was against the rules in the first place.

  We turn the first bend in the road, and Little Cam vanishes.

  Uncle Jakob gives me a crooked half smile. “Welcome to the jungle, Pia!” he says.

  I give him a smile in return, then quickly look away so that he doesn’t see how weak it is.

  It’s only two and half miles to Falk’s Glen. We park on the side of the road and have to hike the last mile and a half because the road curves south to the Little Mississip, but the glen lies to the west. The jungle is steamy today, though not too hot. Still, every breath feels damper than the last. The scientists curse and pant, fighting for every step beneath the loads they carry, cursing at my mother when she yells for them to hurry up. Uncle Paolo shakes his head at them and resigns himself to waiting. He’s sweating like the rest of them, but he seems infused with an energy that defies the exertion. When I look at him, I swear I can see him trembling with excitement.

  It’s been eighteen years since the last vial of Immortis was made. The last would have been for my parents, a year or so before they conceived me. Uncle Paolo was here for that, but he wasn’t the one in charge. That had been a man named Dr. Sato, who retired not long after I was born. So this is Uncle Paolo’s first chance to make Immortis himself, to be the one overseeing it all.

  After he announced today’s excursion, I asked him why we were going so soon. None of the new subjects have arrived yet, and though I don’t know much about Immortis, I know it has to be used within a week of being made or it loses its potency. Uncle Paolo’s response was a surprise: “As it stands, Pia, one of the subjects is already here: me. Yes, I’m going to be participating in the Immortis project myself, and, as such, I will be receiving the first injection.” As far as I know, he’s the first scientist to nominate himself for that role. No wonder he is so eager; he has more invested in today’s excursion than anyone else—except, perhaps, me.