The Sentient

by Nadia Afifi

  Amira frowned.

  “We touched on it at the Academy,” she said. “But it wasn’t anything proven and so complicated…. It’s the idea of being in a universal consciousness outside of the body, right?” She gasped, and understood Barlow’s leading question. “It’s the Conscious Plane that the Cosmics believe in.”

  “Exactly. Consciousness is tied and connected to the body but still a separate entity, this much we know. What we have failed to prove either way is whether consciousness can exist permanently outside of the body. However, we have compelling evidence that consciousness can shift in and out of the body from time to time. In layman’s terms, they are sometimes called ‘out-of-body experiences’. There are signs that a visceral, traumatic experience makes these disassociations from one’s own physical body more likely. Scientifically, what may be happening is a temporary merging of our personal consciousness – stored in our brain structure – with a wider conscious plane separate from ourselves, a plane that interacts with the material world around us in ways we can observe through quantum study.”

  Though she did not understand the direction Barlow was going, Amira sat transfixed. She had experienced this phenomenon more frequently than she would have liked. It happened when she stood over Valerie Singh on the night the Trinity attacked. It happened in the Carthage, and again in Victor Zhang’s house. And it happened for the first time, with unmatched and visceral power, at the Gathering. The charred floor beneath her swayed with this sudden realization, that her ability was not accidental – it was born in this house. The house where Barlow and his team ran the first Tiresia experiments – with the tacit approval of compound Elders.

  “I’m this way because you did something here,” Amira said in a shaking voice. “During the Gathering, when you knew there would be people nearby who could be exposed. I was near this house over ten years ago when something happened to me. I floated above the ground. I thought I was possessed.”

  Barlow nodded with interest.

  “Do not grieve for yourself, M. Valdez,” he said with uncharacteristic softness. “You had the ability for out-of-body experiences long before you crossed paths with this house, but the Tiresia undoubtedly enhanced its effects in you. You are correct. We released Tiresia in a unique way – not through swallowing a liquid or inhaling a gas, but through the remarkable light apparatus that runs through this house. The details will astonish you, if you ever let me explain them to you. It changed you. You can exist at a level of consciousness that many spend years trying to attain. It is a gift, to be one of the sentient.”

  “How?”

  “We discovered that Tiresia can also cause this separation of consciousness,” Barlow continued. “But rather than the conscious waves just flitting in and out of the body, part of it can remain detached from the body for a longer period of time, until it merges with something else it is directed to.”

  “I don’t understand,” Amira said, but her heart quickened slightly.

  “You don’t, but you’re starting to see what this means,” Barlow said with growing excitement. “It means that if administered properly, your consciousness can exist where it is now, inside your own body, but also somewhere else outside of the body. A pathway to immortality, where the end of the body is not the end of your existence. Amira Valdez, no concept, no theory being toyed with in Aldwych or the spaceships spinning above us is more important than this one – the extinction of death.”

  “What you’re talking about isn’t new,” Amira said as calmly as she could manage. “It’s been talked about for years, figuring out how to permanently move our consciousness into robots or computers, so we can keep existing outside of our bodies. No one is close to figuring that one out, though, which is why the science now is all about prolonging life as much as possible, not changing what life is.”

  Barlow laughed.

  “An answer right out of a textbook. Forgive me, M. Valdez, I don’t mean to trivialize your argument, which is correct in the essentials. Robots and computers are a pipe dream; no one knows how to steer something as intangible as conscious existence into a machine, beyond the crude warfare you demonstrated earlier. But a body that is genetically identical to its host…that is a more feasible matter to be tried.”

  And finally, Amira understood. She stood up and looked out the window at Rozene, who was nestled on a patio lounger with the baby asleep against her chest.

  “You – you transferred Rozene’s consciousness into the clone while she was pregnant,” Amira said. “That’s why you gave her and the other subjects the Tiresia. So the baby will have Rozene’s consciousness in addition to its own. The baby will have part of Rozene in her.”

  “That’s one possibility,” Barlow said patiently. “It was done early in the pregnancy. It’s possible that Rozene’s consciousness will dominate the infant in development, so that she becomes practically Rozene reborn. Or the child may have an identity of her own but absorb some of Rozene’s memories and perceptions as she develops. I will admit I was very curious to see what would happen immediately after the birth. It’s too early to tell. Will the infant retain Rozene’s thought patterns, personality, even memories? Will she be linked mentally to her mother beyond the usual bond? The possibilities are endless.”

  “But you figured you’d just try it and see?” Amira exploded. She was shaking with anger; of everything she could have imagined, she did not expect this. It was no wonder that Barlow had enemies in Aldwych, but he had also grossly betrayed Valerie Singh’s trust, turning her final accomplishment into something dangerous and unethical in the extreme. She paced for a moment, her anger swelling as Barlow waited calmly.

  “Why are you telling me all of this?” Amira asked.

  “Because we need each other, Amira Valdez,” Barlow replied. “You’re invested now in this girl’s safety and have your own welfare to consider as well. In the course of your brief career at Aldwych, you have already attracted the attention of some very powerful, very dangerous people. I can protect you from them. Unlike Dr. Singh, brilliant as she was, I know how to use the Cosmics and their endless infighting to my advantage and continue my work.”

  “And what do you get by me helping you?”

  “I think you have an idea of that already, but you’re afraid to articulate it. You are an impressive holomentic reader and therapist, which will undoubtedly come in very handy as we observe mother and child. But you have other things to offer. I’ve observed it firsthand, when you completed your test on the Academy’s Placement Day. I watched you through an observation room, and understood what had happened, even if the Academy didn’t. And your remarkable show of power with Victor Zhang’s creations a few hours ago confirmed what I have suspected – you are special in your ability to manage your conscious mind and to escape its trappings within yourself. Your mind can wander where it needs to, and even sense things before they occur. Preconjecture. I saw you in the prism room – you knew the fire was coming before it happened. It is that ability that I am particularly interested in. We will need it, to prevent our shared enemies from using Tiresia for their own purposes.”

  Through Amira’s swirling thoughts, Elder Young’s face emerged, snarling under phosphorescent blue light. He aimed to do what Amira had done with the robots, but on a larger, deadlier scale. Using Tiresia gifted by the Cosmics, Elder Young planned to control the compounds, mobilizing their congregants into a single, conscious entity under his control. An army. Men, women, children – all marching in unison, puppets to one man’s will. Amira shuddered, imagining such an army marching on Westport. Did the Cosmics realize the plague they could unleash on the world, giving such power to the Trinity Compound?

  Amira turned away and walked along the remaining wall in Zhang’s den. Pictures, certificates, newspaper clippings all detailed a long life rich with accomplishments and a mind to legacy, but Zhang ended it in a compact freezer while most of his trophies and prizes melt
ed in the heat. Was this all that was left in the end – a fading collection of souvenirs, or in Zhang’s case, the passing of knowledge to the living, who may use it for any purpose, however noble or cruel?

  Barlow spoke again.

  “I know you think I’m a monster for what I chose to do. Perhaps I am. History will judge. I have done unconscionable things in the past that I regret deeply, and though you may not understand it now, this is part of that atonement. But there are other monsters out there, Amira, bigger and more dangerous. To defeat them, I must persuade the Cosmics that my vision for Tiresia is the correct one. If I succeed – if we succeed in this, and let Rozene and others live countless lifetimes from body to body, there will be no price too high for what humanity will reap. It is evolution in its final, most perfect conclusion, and we shall be its engineers.”

  Amira faced Barlow and thought back to their first unsettling encounter at the Academy. It took him little time to understand her, but he remained an evasive and suspicious presence for Amira from the moment they first shook hands and he gave her that cryptic, appraising look, as though he could mentally strip her bare and see the facets of herself she did not care to reveal. She had that ability too, to find the dark corners in people’s minds, and he valued her for that. Though she could not trust him, she would have to grow to understand him. Perhaps Perkins had summarized him best – Aldwych demands the dedicated. None seemed more dedicated than Tony Barlow, but Amira could perhaps influence the means he used to gain his ends.

  “You’re in charge of Pandora now?” she asked.

  “I am.”

  “Then if you want me to help in your consciousness transfers, or use me as a guinea pig, you’ll need to keep me on Pandora as well. I want Rozene away from Aldwych, and I don’t want the birth announced until she’s ready.”

  “I cannot guarantee such a thing,” Barlow said with a dryness that was reminiscent of Valerie Singh. “The cloning method works, and believe it or not, there is a huge demand to put this technology to market. But I’ll see what arrangements we can make for her well-being.”

  “No deal,” Amira said firmly. “If you want my cooperation, that’s my price.”

  They negotiated further and after Amira explained her plan, one that had been brewing since Rozene gave birth, they came to an agreement, or at least a détente for the near future.

  Hadrian arrived with the abandoned all-terrain from the valley. He was covered in grease, ostensibly from fixing the engine, and in high spirits.

  “Excellent,” Barlow said. “M. Valdez has identified our next destination. We need to take a detour before returning to Westport.”

  Westport. The city would no longer be the same refuge she knew before, when it represented endless possibility. Its glamor and sheen had been stripped away by harsh truths and secrets. But amid the charred remains of a great scientist’s refuge and the sounds of a new life letting out its first cries, she understood now that Westport was not just a place she called home but an idea, a vision for a better world, and though imperfect, it was one worth fighting for. And they would have to fight, from both outside and within.

  They prepared to leave. D’Arcy helped the children into the all-terrain vehicle. Maxine and Lee climbed to the top, both struggling to find signals for their Eyes. Hadrian woke Rozene up as Amira returned to the ashes for a final attempt to activate one of the computers. Failing, she was ready to leave the decimated den when she noticed a map on the wall. It was burnt on one half but still readable. As she looked closer, Amira noticed pins and marks on the map, which spanned greater North America. Three large pins had writing in red marker next to them, naming three compounds.

  The Remnant Faithful. The Trinity. The Children of the New Covenant. Three communities, about to be united as a single force against everything Amira stood for. And in the space in between all three, a red circle with another word.

  The Gathering.

  Epilogue

  Baja

  The long stretch of beach in the heart of the Baja peninsula remained secluded and untamed, the lap of the dark Pacific waters and rustling palm trees in harmony after sunset. The drought along the American West Coast scared away most residents generations ago, as small towns and even larger cities witnessed an exodus motivated by thirst and a desire to escape the cruel summer months, leaving long stretches of Baja primarily for the wealthy and reclusive.

  Dr. Mercer’s house was on such a stretch of land, quiet and relatively undeveloped on either side, though there was a small fishing village several miles away where groceries and other essentials could be obtained. The Gradient line also ran to San Diego, providing a convenient route to Westport and other transportation hubs.

  Rozene loved the ocean. She greeted Dr. Mercer warmly and the robot Henry with bemused cordiality, but took the earliest opportunity to rush out onto the sand and watch the sun slowly dissolve over the Pacific, the baby resting on her arm.

  The baby had a name by the time they reached the Baja peninsula – Nova. Rozene stumbled across it during her research. She was drawn immediately to the sound and the meaning, since the child signified new beginnings. The concept of a nova in deep space, a star bursting with sudden brightness, also had a romantic appeal. Amira liked the name and Barlow ceded it was ‘fitting’, adding that Lucy Dunning, the founder of the Academy in Westport, had a partner who was a renowned sculptor, Nova Kidane.

  While Rozene lingered along the shore, gently dipping Nova’s tiny feet into the water, Amira and Barlow talked with Dr. Mercer. The professor had reacted with delight when Amira called him from a gas station in northern Mexico, finally able to recharge her Eye. Before they parted, he had mentioned his newly-constructed home in Baja, a haven even more isolated than his refuge in the mountains, and that is where he’d fled after the attack on the Soma. After reassuring him that she was alive and safe, Amira explained the basics of her plan.

  The arrangement was logical from a purely transactional perspective. Rozene would provide Dr. Mercer with purpose and much-needed company in his retirement years, while he would give Rozene and her child support, safety, privacy and non-invasive observation. Barlow talked in more detail with Dr. Mercer about the type of observation to document and report back to him in Aldwych, carefully avoiding the exact nature of what was done to Rozene during the pregnancy. Better, Barlow explained earlier to Amira, for Dr. Mercer to be a non-biased observer until something significant occurs, if it even does occur. It was possible, he conceded, that his attempt to shift Rozene’s consciousness had failed completely, and that would be evident before long. Amira doubted that.

  Amira looked outside at Rozene, laughing with her feet in the water as she gently swung the baby from side to side over the moon-lit waves, feeling a fierce pang of guilt that Rozene, too, was in the dark about Barlow’s experiment. Despite this, Amira agreed to remain silent, at least for the immediate future. Rozene needed, above all things, a period of peace and normalcy.

  At the house, Amira was at last able to use Dr. Mercer’s computer to transmit the evidence from the holomentic disc. With Rozene safe, Dr. Mercer said with a smile, Amira’s name would be cleared, although she would still need to address her escape from the police station.

  With his leg bandaged but healing, Lee stretched across the couch in Dr. Mercer’s living room, watching Rozene through the screen door. He reacted similarly to Hadrian when he held Nova, relieved at her apparent normalcy while also scanning her carefully for some tell-tale sign of artificiality. There was none to be found. Nova looked and acted like any other newborn. She was, all in all, a remarkably unremarkable baby, with wide eyes and an unsmiling, inquisitive face in those sparse moments when she was not sleeping or wailing.

  After Rozene came back inside, Dr. Mercer and Henry showed her around the house, leading her upstairs to the room that she and Nova would occupy. They made an odd group; an elderly professor, a robot, and a young wom
an carrying a baby who would soon become the most famous and discussed infant on Earth – for some, an abomination to be feared and for others, a tentative, exciting step into a bold and uncertain future. The news could not be hidden, Barlow warned Amira. They had to announce the success of Pandora, which would inspire attempted replications, and soon enough the initiation of the cloning industry as the Soma made its services (though not its patented technology) available to the public. Rozene would avoid the brunt of the public scrutiny, her location a closely guarded secret among the small group in the house, but at some point, mother and child would have to show their faces to the world.

  Amira walked out onto the patio, took in the cool breeze and the salty smells of the deep ocean it carried, and tried to push the future out of mind.

  Hadrian sat outside on a lounge chair, tightening the bandage around his shoulder. He nodded with a tired smile as she approached.

  “Taking off already?” she asked. “Getting back to the ship?”

  “The remaining kids’ll be fine without me for another day, love, even without Lee keeping them in line,” he said. “No, I need to get back up to NASH. Need to report officially that I’m alive and kicking and find out what happened to my crew.”

  Amira nodded. She had forgotten after the chaos of their crash in the desert that the NASH security crew was in pursuit of them as well, though the point where they lost the chase was unclear.

  D’Arcy joined Amira on the patio.

  “You ladies try to stay out of trouble for the next couple of days,” Hadrian said pointedly. And with that, he stood up unceremoniously and walked toward the dark street. His footsteps faded as they crunched along the gravel driveway, and Amira fought the urge to call out a final goodbye. She would miss him. The air had already shifted, less charged somehow, in his absence.