by Eliza Green
Isobel recalled having a vague dislike for replicator food, but she couldn’t be sure if that was her Indigene half-talking. Would the reversal treatment change her attitude to human food, to humans in general?
The peace treaty that covered Exilon 5 had come into force in the last seven years. District Three elders Stephen and Serena had made some progress with the humans over that period of time. In 2163, a war between the Indigenes and World Government leaders broke out on Exilon 5. Both sides had suffered casualties, but the peace treaty grew from that war. The new agreement gave Indigenes access to exclusion zones where they could hunt without interference. The treaty, set up to protect the Indigenes and their districts on Exilon 5, was extended to include a promise to reverse the genetic alterations carried out on any Indigene who requested it. It had taken years to perfect the reversal treatment and when it was finally made available, many Indigenes had asked for the treatment. Isobel hadn’t understood their yearning until her own human memories trickled back on their own. It was her disconnect from them that had fuelled her desire to understand more about her former life. For weeks, she had toyed with the idea of becoming human once again. But the idea of the treatment terrified her.
A rumbling noise above District Eight sent tiny shudders through the floor and her mattress. The humans were building on the surface to accommodate those who had come from Earth and settled in the last seven years. Over half a billion people had been transferred before the ships had stopped coming. But with new cities came new problems. The human builds had begun to encroach on the Indigenes’ territories again, inching closer to their environmental bubbles that marked out the protected hunting grounds. The peace treaty designed to protect Indigene territory stood on shaky ground. Stephen and Serena did their best to keep abreast of changes amid a new world, and to keep elders in the other districts updated on the progress.
Isobel turned to her side and tried to ignore the noise. The memory of her husband drifted further away. She opened up her mind and the memory returned to her, but it wasn’t as strong as before. She had to know more. This man had loved her once. Who had she been before she became Isobel?
A dark swirl of black existed in the place where her husband’s face should have been. She didn’t even remember his name. ‘Would you like to order from the machine, miss?’ he had said, pointing to a square black object on the counter. He had draped a white cloth over his arm. She remembered asking for something.
He slid a plate of food in front of her. She lowered her head to inhale. It smelled of rock and cold and humidity: her private quarters. She touched the plate. Her fingers passed right through it to the ground. The man and the memory faded. She grasped at both again but they slipped away.
‘No.’ Isobel sat up and grunted. Her heartbeat thrummed against her ribs. She stood up too fast and her dizziness sent her back down onto the mattress. She tried again, a little steadier this time. Her quarters—a single room with a mattress and a table with a few items—closed in on her. She couldn’t catch her breath in the small space. She strode over to the door and rested her head against the cool metal. Her frustration slipped away, leaving her only with embarrassment. ‘I’m more than this,’ she said. ‘I can feel it.’
She yanked the door open and stepped out of her quarters on the top floor of a three-tier accommodation block, a circular space deep underground.
She hesitated on the top step. ‘I need to know who I am.’
A shadow moved below the stairs and she jerked back. ‘Who’s there?’ Speaking out loud gave her a sense of control that telepathy did not. Lately she had experienced a drop in privacy levels in the district. Others imposed upon her their excitement about genetic reversal and when it might happen. The shadow moved and part of a white robe flashed. Isobel relaxed. She should have known it was her. She navigated the stone steps with the grace of a dancer. Margaux stepped out from the shadows and entered the circular space.
The elder from District Eight smiled. ‘Hello, Isobel. I hope I’m not intruding.’
‘No of course not, elder.’ Isobel could sense Margaux’s attempts to communicate telepathically. But yet the elder always spoke out loud. Isobel wondered what it would be like to hear only one set of thoughts—her own.
She waited for the elder to speak. Margaux’s gaze became distant and she looked off to the side. Isobel had become used to her strange ways.
Gabriel and Margaux, husband and wife, were the elders in District Eight. Apparently Margaux had been instrumental in preventing a war with the humans. It was her insight—so often overlooked, others had said—that had given the Indigenes the edge when the war for power had occurred eight years ago. She had seen what Serena could do before even Serena knew.
Isobel moved in front of her, causing Margaux’s gaze to sharpen.
‘I’ve been watching you, Isobel. Gabriel said I shouldn’t, that I was intruding on your life. But I told him it was necessary.’
Isobel had felt a presence in the tunnels for a while, but she hadn’t been certain someone was there, until now. ‘For how long?’
Margaux chuckled. ‘I always wondered about you, about why you didn’t question where you came from.’
Isobel had wondered the same thing. ‘Because I couldn’t remember anything.’
‘And now?’
‘I’m starting to remember bits and pieces. It’s still unclear.’
Margaux touched her arm, a move that felt too intimate from the perceptive elder. Isobel stepped away, but when Margaux shot her an irritated look she stepped back in. The elder’s cold hands cupped her face.
‘I sense there’s something you won’t allow yourself to see. In your past.’
‘Like what?’ She could barely remember anything about her old life.
‘Something you’d rather forget.’ Margaux closed her eyes. ‘It’s why you haven’t spoken up before about wanting to change back into a human.’
Isobel jerked away from her. ‘I never said I wanted to change. Who said I did?’
Margaux chuckled as if someone had just whispered a joke in her ear. ‘You did, silly girl. You can’t keep the truth hidden from me.’
Isobel’s heart quickened. ‘I’m not hiding from anything.’
Margaux relaxed her expression and mood. ‘Your mind says otherwise. There’s something you’d rather forget.’
‘What?’
Margaux shrugged. ‘That’s for you to tell me.’
A rising anger heated Isobel’s cold skin. ‘I thought you were supposed to know everything.’
Margaux smiled and headed for one of two tunnels leading out of the circular area. ‘Contrary to popular belief, I don’t know everything. Will you take a walk with me?’ Isobel’s hesitation prompted Margaux to turn round. ‘Please.’
Isobel followed her. ‘Where are we going?’
But the elder just hummed a tune, causing Isobel to sigh. The elder’s moments of lucidity never lasted long.
☼
She followed Margaux to the core of District Eight, a large cavernous space that connected all the tunnels. Isobel heard chatter in the meeting and teaching space. Not the usual telepathic murmurings, but the sounds of Indigene conversation. The odd, collective noise bounced off the walls and the high ceiling.
‘I suppose I should practise the art of speaking out loud,’ said one as they passed. The World Government on Earth had given them all files, including Isobel, detailing their human lives. Other than what her file said, which wasn’t much, Isobel knew nothing of her human life, except for what she remembered. If Isobel had the treatment done, she might not only regain her human traits, but her lost memories too. She expected to lose her Indigene skills such as the ability to communicate telepathically.
Isobel scanned the room that contained a mixture of ages. But the further into the space she walked, the more she determined the older Indigenes had come because of a curiosity than to practise speaking out loud. She sensed their resentment at the changes.
They now called the first-generation Indigenes, or elders, originals: humans altered and transferred to Exilon 5 nearly sixty years ago. The second-generation were the children born from two original Indigenes, like Stephen—District Three’s youngest-serving elder—and Anton, his closest friend and confidante. The others came after, like Serena, a product of human and second generation descent. In the beginning Isobel had no clue which label applied to her, and without a memory of when they’d turned her, she’d assumed she was a second generation. But Gabriel had explained her file that said she’d been altered on Earth eight years ago. She had arrived a month after Serena.
‘You are what we call a first generation, once removed,’ Gabriel had explained. ‘Your blood test shows the doctors changed you with a basic genetic mix, not with DNA from a second-generation Indigene as was used to create Serena.’
Many cherished their Indigene identity, including Isobel, but not everybody embraced the changes that the peace treaty had forced upon their way of life. Stephen and Serena encouraged any Indigene, still unsettled after the changes, to consider the improved reversal treatment.
Margaux moved at a pace through the core, forcing Isobel into a fast walk to catch up. She saw Gabriel up ahead, leaning against the rock, watching the room. She had expected Margaux to go to him, but then she walked straight past and stopped at a female with her back to the room. The female, who spoke to another, seemed to sense Margaux behind her. She turned with a wide smile on her face and hugged her.
Isobel stopped and stared. What was Serena doing here?
She watched Serena, with her strange blue eyes and genetically perfect features, nod at whatever Margaux said to her. Isobel’s discomfort increased when Margaux turned and pointed at her. Serena’s gaze followed her finger. She froze when both of them walked towards her.
The males in the room perked up in Serena’s presence, while the females stood back from her. She had that effect on Indigenes. Her skills promoted desire in the younger second-generation males, but not so much in the first-generation onlookers. Isobel waited while one of District Three’s leaders approached her. There was no sign of Stephen.
‘Isobel.’ Serena’s smile had dropped away. ‘Margaux tells me you want to change into a human.’
Isobel faltered for a moment. ‘I... I don’t know.’
‘Well in case you do, I’d like to explain to you how the process works.’ Serena looked around her. ‘Could we talk somewhere a bit quieter?’
Isobel nodded, not feeling like she had a choice. Margaux led them to the soundproofed Council Chambers and left them alone to talk. Serena closed the door and looked around the space belonging to Gabriel and Margaux with a desk and a bookshelf. Then she turned to Isobel. ‘The process of reversing the genetic anomalies is straightforward, these days, but the changes that arise can be hard for some to bear. It’s not for everybody. Do you remember anything about your past life?’
Isobel nodded again. ‘It’s sketchy.’
Serena perched on the edge of the desk. ‘I can help, if you’d like me to. But it’s just a temporary fix. My help will only partially draw out the memory already there, as long as we’re both touching.’
Isobel hesitated for a moment. The sketchy memory from earlier had left her frustrated. She was curious enough to try. ‘Okay,’ she whispered.
Serena stood in front of her. ‘Hold onto my hands. Concentrate on the memory you struggle with the most.’
With Serena’s help, Isobel felt the tightness surrounding the last memory loosen a little. Her husband, with a swirl of black for a face, stood by the replicator machine. ‘Chicken or fish?’ he said.
‘Umm...’ For some reason, her human self felt irritated that they were staying in. ‘I guess chicken.’
He pressed some buttons and slid the plate of food towards her. She could see shapes now that she hadn’t before. The plate felt warm and solid to the touch. Heat radiated from the chicken.
Isobel looked up at her husband, hoping her new connection with Serena would allow her to see more. But his face remained vague in definition.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Serena. ‘It will come back when the reversal process is complete. Are you ready for all that comes with it?’
Isobel felt more certain than before. ‘Yes, I’d like to try.’
‘Margaux says there’s a secret from your past that you’ve yet to discover.’
‘She said the same thing to me.’
‘How will you feel when you discover it?’
Isobel shrugged. ‘Depends on how bad it is.’
Serena, still touching her, looked lost in her thoughts. Isobel shifted nervously. Should she wait, or speak more?
Then District Three’s elder released her hands and studied the leather inlay in the top of the writing desk. ‘I guess we won’t know how you’ll react until you reverse. The process is simple enough. The doctors inject you with nanoids that reverse the original changes to your code. The process is quick, but the changes take a few days. You will experience excruciating pain as they navigate your body and undo the changes. You will feel conflicted: neither human nor Indigene. You will question your reason for doing this and beg for the process to be stopped. It can’t stop, not until the nanoids have finished their job. Any interruptions will confuse them enough that they’ll begin to make other changes. Devastating ones. What I’m saying is, if you do this, you must see it through till the end. Are you ready?’
Isobel huffed out a breath; hearing the process described to her made it real. ‘Can I change back if I’m not happy?’
Serena shook her head. ‘The reversal only goes one way. The nanoids don’t survive to be reused and there aren’t enough spares if reversed Indigenes suddenly change their minds.’
Never changing back? A new panic gripped her.
Why? She’d only been Indigene for eight years. She’d been human for far longer.
‘Will I keep any of my Indigene traits?’
‘Honestly? The process works differently in each body. You may keep some of your Indigene traits: your speed, your hearing, your physical appearance. Or you may lose them all. You might grow hair. You could lose your ability to see in the dark. You may even lose your personal ability to see into structures and identify weak spots. The main change will be the return of your human memories. In time, you’ll remember everything.’
Isobel paced the chambers. ‘I need to know who I was, who I am. But a part of me is terrified I won’t like what I find.’
‘I understand that, which is why this must be your decision.’
Isobel dragged her bottom lip through her teeth. The pull to discover her human side was too strong not to try. ‘When can we begin?’
Serena released a small breath, as if she’d been holding it in.
‘As soon as you’re ready. But first I’d like you to come to District Three, talk to someone there who has been through reversal. She might help you to understand the process better.’
‘I don’t need to talk to anyone. I’m ready now.’ Isobel wanted to remember.
‘If you’re sure.’
‘I am.’
‘Okay, say goodbye to your friends. Take only what you need.’ Serena walked to the door and turned the handle. ‘You won’t return here. Be ready tomorrow evening. We’ll travel by night.’
4
Isobel packed up her meagre possessions and stuffed them into the cloth shoulder bag given to her by Serena. She dressed in a long-sleeve cream top and matching trousers. She owned just two outfits that included a similar black set she was supposed to wear while hunting, although she had never been.
The next evening she said her goodbyes to the Indigenes she called friends and the district that had been her home for as long as she could remember. It had felt like a lifetime to her; thirty-eight years to be precise. But only eight years of those memories were real. The rest, a falsified smokescreen, masked her repressed human past.
Her bare feet navigated the uneven tunnels designed to
unsettle unwelcome visitors. A soft hue from a string of lights along the base illuminated the wall. She could see adequately in the dark; the lights were just decoration. But Isobel wondered if she might lose her exemplary vision after the reversal treatment. Water dripped from tiny fissures in the tunnel wall, making the floor feel both damp and cold. She relished the cool air. Her body, as with all Indigenes, overheated too fast.
Telepathic murmurings reached her, and she resisted the temptation to listen in one last time. The murmurs vanished when the other Indigenes moved out of range. Her heart ached; she’d taken telepathy for granted all these years. Now she could lose it altogether.
Isobel stopped at the exit door, her one final barrier to reach the surface. She gripped the three parts of her air filtration device in her hand: one part for each nostril and a larger piece for the back of her throat. Serena had told her she would not need the filtration device after reversal. For that to be true, the treatment would have to alter her lungs. She looked around one last time and drew in a deep breath. Then she slotted the largest part of the air filtration device into place at the back of her throat.
A beam positioned overhead scanned her body and the omega door slid back inside the wall. Her lungs burned as the filtration device adjusted to the oxygen rich air beyond the environmental controls of the district. She sucked in another breath and approached the steps leading to a hatch on the surface. She took them slowly, adjusting the position of the filtration device as she ascended. The rusty hatch creaked open and Isobel emerged in the early night-time. Serena and two human military females wearing gel masks waited for her close to the entrance. A large black military vehicle with all-terrain wheels and blacked out windows stood idle in the almost dark.
Isobel straightened up to her full Indigene height. She no longer had to hide from humans, not since the establishment of the peace treaty. The safe hunting zones that incorporated the entrances to their tunnels protected them from harm. It surprised Isobel that Serena had allowed two humans to get so close to their world. Her Indigene side urged her to run.