The Individuality Gene

by G Sauvé

  “Thank you,” says my girlfriend. “For everything.”

  I did what my father would have done. I helped those in need.

  Thinking of R’ha reminds me I have yet to tell her the truth regarding her father’s illness. I consider coming clean, but I see no point in opening old wounds. A’lara grew into an alien R’ha would be proud of, and that’s all that matters.

  “What will you do now?” I ask.

  I will go home.

  “To the center of the Earth?”

  She shakes her head.

  I will return to Kra’lor. My mother lives there. I look forward to seeing her again.

  The thought of A’lara being reunited with her mother brings a smile to my lips. The last time I saw them together, A’lara was but a child.

  “I hope you’re happy,” I say. “Thank you for all that you have done.”

  You’re welcome.

  We share a farewell hug, then my friends and I lead the humans along the final leg of their journey. I look back just as we reach the first bend and wave at A’lara.

  She doesn’t wave back, but her voice invades my mind one last time.

  Good luck, she says. Take care of the humans.

  “I will,” I promise.

  “Did you say something?” asks Jonn.

  I shake my head, and we continue our journey. Higher and higher we climb until we reach a massive door. It towers high above us, dwarfing us with its greatness. To its right stands what appears to be a series of lockers, within which lies a wide assortment of winter clothing. There are thick jackets and insulated pants, padded boots of varying sizes, and a wide range of hats, gloves, and scarves. The design is different than the clothing I’m accustomed to, but the basic principle is the same. I thus waste little time selecting an outfit.

  As I get dressed, I ponder the reason for such clothing being here. No self-respecting alien would leave the center of the Earth. As for the sentinels, they are impervious to cold, so the need for winter clothing is superfluous. There is but one logical explanation. The clothes date back to a time when humans were still masters of their own fate. It stands to reason some of them would crave fresh air, thus the need for winter clothing. Still, I can’t help but wonder—

  “What are you doing?” asks Jonn, interrupt my train of thought.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why are you putting on more clothes?”

  It takes me a moment to realize my friends have never experienced extreme cold. Growing up in a climate-controlled city has its advantages, but it also keeps you from experiencing all the surface has to offer.

  “It’s cold outside,” I explain as I slip into a pair of snow pants. “You need to dress warmly.”

  Kara doesn’t question my reasoning. She picks an outfit and slips into it. It’s so snug she’s forced to remove her glove gun, but that’s of little concern now. The war is over. Freedom is all that lies beyond that door.

  Unlike Kara, Jonn refuses to comply with my request.

  “I fought dinosaurs,” he says. “I can handle the cold.”

  “No,” I say. “You can’t.”

  Jonn glares at me.

  “I’m a grown man. I don’t need some kid telling me what I can and can’t handle. You got that, Won’t?”

  I shrug. “Suit yourself. Just don’t come crying to me when you’re freezing your butt off.”

  Jonn snorts.

  The next few minutes are spent in silence. Soon, Kara and I are ready to take on the rigours of the glacial winter.

  “What about them?” she asks, nodding to the humans. They stand nearby, staring at us with interest. Like Jonn, they have never before experienced winter colds and thus find our oversized clothing perplexing.

  “Their skin is thick,” I say. “They should have no trouble handling the cold.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It doesn’t matter. There aren’t enough clothes for everyone.”

  “You’re right,” says Kara.

  “Yeah, yeah,” says Jonn. “Can we move this along? We don’t have all day.”

  “We don’t?” I ask, but a glare from Jonn convinces me this is no time for mischief. “All right,” I say. “Are you ready?”

  My friends nod. Taking the lead, I approach the oversized door, remove one of my gloves, and press my palm to it. Nothing happens for a few seconds, then a loud hissing sound fills the air as the door splits open and retreats into the walls.

  I step back, put on my glove, and watch as more and more of the outside world is revealed. The first thing I notice is the cold. It burns my lungs and bites at my face. My breath turns to ice and falls to the ground. The second detail I take into account is the vast expanse of snow that stretches before me. There are hills and valleys, yet every centimetre of the landscape is coated in snow. It’s both beautiful and terrifying. The sky is blue and devoid of clouds. The sun shines, but its rays do little to warm us. Basically, the outside world is exactly as I expected. The only thing I failed to plan for is the army of metallic humanoids that stand before us.

  Sentinels.

  Memory 42

  C onfusion washes over me. It seeps deep into my bones and infuses my muscles. It encases my heart, forcing its thumping to slow. It cripples my reflexes, rendering me useless. I just stand there and stare at the sentinels, wide-eyed and jaw-dropped.

  They number in the hundreds. They stand a dozen per row, perfectly immobile. Their eyes are alive with yellow light, a perfect match to their glowing chests. Their hands hang by their sides, but it’s only a matter of time before they rise and energy blossoms from their palms.

  “Should we retreat?” I ask. My voice is soft, barely more than a whisper.

  Jonn shakes his head.

  No one speaks for the longest time. Even the humans remain quiet. In the end, it’s my girlfriend who shatters the silence.

  “We should try speaking to them,” she says.

  “Excuse me?” blurts Jonn.

  “We should talk to them, try to negotiate a peaceful surrender.”

  She takes a step forward.

  “This is a bad idea,” says Jonn, but Kara keeps advancing. The grey-haired soldier and I exchange a worried look, then hurry in pursuit.

  We advance until less than a dozen metres stand between us and the automaton army. Coming to a stop, Kara scans the sentinels and focuses on the nearest one.

  “Why are you here?” she asks.

  A robot steps forward. Jonn adopts a defensive stance, but he’s unarmed. So are Kara and I.

  The sentinel advances and hands me a rolled-up parchment. It’s identical to the one I found when Jonn and I first awoke in the glowing forest. Odds are, this one is also from Avalon.

  I stare at it, unsure what to do. Should I read it and play into Avalon’s hand, or should I throw it away and remain oblivious as to her involvement in our failed rebellion? In the end, the decision isn’t up to me.

  “What does it say?” asks Jonn as the sentinel reintegrates the ranks of the robotic army.

  I hesitate for a moment before unrolling the parchment. The words written upon it are few, but their significance is heavy.

  Dear Will,

  You failed. Again. Tricking you into altering the past was merely the beginning. I wanted you to witness the repercussions of your actions. I wanted you to try to rectify your mistake, to fix the past. And you did. But you failed. Nothing you do in this time can make up for your past actions.

  You are—

  I’m interrupted by a strange sound. Rapid and brutal, it reminds me of a jackhammer. But that makes no sense. How could a—

  “Dad?” says Kara. “Are you all right?”

  I focus on Jonn and realize he’s shivering. His body convulses, his arms and neck fully exposed to the elements. Though he claimed he required no winter clothing, the biting cold has seeped into him and proved him wrong.

  “I’m f-fine,” he mutters, his lips so stiff he can barely speak.

  I can
tell he’s lying, but the severity of our predicament keeps me from caring.

  I keep reading.

  You are probably wondering how I knew what you were up to. It was easy. The truth is, I have been watching since you first appeared in this time. The sentinels are equipped with recording devices. Everything they see is relayed to a central computer, which is located at the center of the Earth. This is also where their commands originate from. But that does not explain how I managed to control them.

  Infiltrating the sentinel command hub was simple. I replicated the Kra’lor who was in charge of the sentinels and took control of the entire operation. The rest was easy. I kept an eye on you and waited for the perfect moment to strike. I could easily have squashed your little rebellion, but I chose to let you believe you would succeed. But now I have had my fun, and it’s time for this to end.

  Until next time,

  —Avalon

  P.S. Duck.

  “D-duck?” stutters Jonn. “W-what’s t-that sup-sup-supposed to m-mean?”

  Under normal circumstances, hearing him stutter would be funny, but the intensity of his shivers keeps me from enjoying it.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe…”

  My voice trails off when, moving as one, the sentinels raise their arms. Yellow light blossoms from their metallic palms. Momentarily blinded, I do the only thing I can think of.

  I duck.

  The hard-packed snow knocks the air from my lungs, but that’s the least of my concerns. I barely have time to notice my friends are alongside me than the robots start firing. The crackling of ‘tal energy fills the air as dozens of glowing spheres fly over our heads. For a brief moment I allow myself to believe the sentinels missed, but then the panicked shrieks of terrified humans reach my ears, and the reality of the situation dawns on me.

  They’re killing the humans.

  I crane my neck and focus on the crowd just as it scatters. People dive out of the way, avoiding death by mere centimetres. Others aren’t so lucky and crumble in heaps of charred, mutilated flesh. But the unluckiest of all are those who aren’t immediately killed. They writhe in pain as their injuries slowly kill them.

  Panic reigns supreme. Those unfortunate enough to be standing at the front of the crowd desperately try to escape the onslaught of glowing orbs, but there’s nowhere for them to flee. The tunnel is packed with people, and the snowy expanse offers no cover. All who are unlucky enough to have tasted true freedom are slaughtered. As more and more of them fall, the crowd within the tunnel becomes aware of the danger. Desperate to reintegrate the safety of the underground facility, they retreat, but the size of the crowd ensures such a thing is impossible. Like their compatriots, they are mowed down by the robots.

  I stare, too shocked to react, as the sentinels advance. A steady stream of blasts erupts from their palm as they approach the tunnel. By the time they reach it, the visible portion of the crowd has fallen, leaving a thick layer of mutilated bodies where once healthy humans stood. Unaffected by this, the sentinels stomp forward and enter the tunnel. Deeper and deeper they travel until, with a final flash of yellow, they vanish. Moments later, trees erupt from the fallen humans’ bodies. They grow at an accelerated rate, blocking the tunnel entrance and blotting out the screams of the humans.

  A heavy silence settles upon the battlefield. Not a single one of the hundred or so humans who got to experience the outside world survived. Their bodies are gone, replaced by the glowing trees, yet the spilled blood remains. It seeps into the snow, turning it red. It would be beautiful if it weren’t so horrific.

  I stand and look at my friends.

  “Why didn’t they kill us?”

  “A-Avalon is e-evil,” mutters Jonn. It’s not really an answer, but it’s sufficient.

  I glance at Kara. She stares at the trees, unmoving. I grab her hand, but it fails to distract her.

  “Look at me,” I say.

  She doesn’t move.

  “Look at me!” I repeat, this time with more force. It takes a few seconds, but she finally tears her gaze from the bloodied snow.

  “It’s my fault,” she says, her voice cracking midway through the statement. “I could have helped them. If only I had kept the glove gun.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I say. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

  “I could have—” she begins, but I cut her off with a kiss. It’s meant to distract, not seduce.

  “There’s nothing you could have done,” I repeat once our lips part. “Do you hear me?”

  She nods.

  There’s a moment of silence before the helplessness of our situation becomes undeniable.

  “What now?” asks Kara.

  I sigh. “Avalon is too powerful. She can’t be defeated.”

  “That’s not true. There has to be a way.”

  “That’s what we always think, yet we end up playing right into her hand.” I hesitate for a moment before voicing my true feelings. “I think it’s time we accept the truth. We can’t win.”

  “Don’t say that. There’s always a way.”

  “No,” says Jonn before I can respond. “It’s o-over. We l-lost.”

  Hearing him admit defeat destroys what little hope I had left. The sight of Kara’s deflated expression tells me I’m not the only one affected by the grey-haired soldier’s defeatism.

  “We can’t give up,” she says, but her words sound flat, emotionless.

  “It’s a-already d-done,” says Jonn. “It’s t-time to go h-home.”

  “We can’t go back without Avalon. The team will be disbanded.”

  Jonn sighs.

  “Maybe t-that’s for the b-best. We t-tried, but m-maybe it’s time s-someone else get a c-chance.”

  Kara tries to protest, but she’s at a loss for words. In the end, she just nods.

  It’s settled. We’re going home. Well, sort of.

  After making sure the tracker is disabled, I close my eyes and create a mental image of Atlantis. Once it’s clear, I twist the two triangles that adorn my ring. Nothing happens for a few seconds, then a portal crackles to life before us.

  We stare at it for a while before Kara speaks.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” she asks.

  Jonn doesn’t answer. He approaches the portal and steps through. Kara glances at me, sighs, then follows him.

  I’m alone. I take a moment to scan my surroundings. So much pain. So much death. Yet it’s not the sight of the crimson snow that worries me. The words my older self once spoke echo throughout my mind.

  You’re the only one who can stop Avalon. If you fail, the entire world will be doomed.

  Was this what he was referring to? Our actions in the past started a chain reaction that led to the downfall of humankind. This alone should be enough to confirm Old Will’s claim, but what if this is only the beginning? So much has changed and it’s been mere centuries. What of the future? How was it affected by our actions? For all I know, the time I once knew no longer exists. There may not even be a future. But why would Avalon go through the trouble of manipulating us into altering the past if not to save her son? But, in the end, none of it matters.

  I sigh and step through the portal.

  Memory 43

  I appear in an old, decrepit park. Dead trees litter the paved path that stands before me. Dried shrubs and equally dehydrated flowerbeds can be found by the dozens. Even the grass is dead. The stream that once flowed nearby has long since dried up, and the lampposts that border the path are no longer operational. It seems as though this entire time is dead. But that’s not what causes my furrowed brow or perplexed expression.

  I’ve been here before. Twice. The first time was when my friends and I first appeared in this time. The second was when we led the human rebels to freedom. But that doesn’t explain—

  “Where are we?” asks Kara, interrupting me mid-thought. She and her father stand nearby, studying our surroundings.

  “I don’t know,” say
s Jonn, “but wherever we are, we’re not outside.”

  Déjà vu. The words form in my mind as I look up and take into account the stone ceiling hovering high above us. I stare at it for a while before Kara says something that heightens the strange sense of familiarity.

  “When do you think we are?”

  Jonn shrugs.

  “Who cares? Let’s find Avalon and get the drowned out of here.”

  Once again, I’m struck with an undeniable sense of déjà vu. Our presence here is perplexing, but the strangeness of our surroundings pales in comparison to my friends’ behaviour. Not only are they acting as they did when we first appeared in this time, but they’re speaking the exact same words, in the exact same order.

  “What’s wrong?” asks Kara, noticing my frown.

  I focus on her for the first time since my arrival, and a stunned expression spreads across my face. Her winter clothing is gone, and the grime that once clung to her skin as a result of weeks of hard work has been replaced by a healthy, rosy complexion. Perplexed, I focus on Jonn. He’s no longer shivering. In fact, his once raggedy clothes now appear whole. Hanging from his leg, tucked safely in its sheath, is his trusty hunting knife, the very same one that was taken by the robots upon our arrival.

  What is going on?

  I look around, and more details I failed to take into account are revealed. A thick layer of dust coats the floor. While far from unusual, it’s the uninterrupted nature of the grey dust that strikes me as odd. Not only did we have our first encounter with sentinels here, but tens of thousands of humans stampeded through here mere minutes ago. There’s no way so many people could have made it to the surface without leaving a single footprint.

  What the hell is going on?

  “Are you all right?” asks Jonn. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

  While favourable to the strange situation I now find myself in, passing out would accomplish nothing, so I focus on figuring out how we got here.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  Jonn frowns.