The Individuality Gene

by G Sauvé

  “I-I didn’t t-think it was that bad,” I mutter.

  “It will be worse if you don’t apply the cream,” says Hermit.

  I glance at the jar in my hand. The horrible smell no longer bothers me. I now see the salve for its curative properties.

  “Will it heal me?” I ask as I apply the cream. The numbness that once accompanied my injuries has begun to fade, and pain is now rearing its ugly head.

  “It will halt the degeneration,” says Hermit, “but it can’t bring back to life what is already dead. You may lose your nose.”

  That’s the last thing I want to hear, but there’s nothing I can do about it, so I choose not to dwell on it. I apply the salve to my injuries. By the time I’m done, the meal has been served, and Hermit and I join Kara at the table.

  We eat in silence—luckily for me, the soup doesn’t appear to contain meat—for a while before I notice the pain that once plagued me is gone. The cream did more than halt the decay of my skin. It stopped the ache, leaving my skin feeling warm and tingly. I don’t know if that’s a good thing, but I choose to believe it is.

  Kara asks our host a few questions about his lifestyle. I expect him to be secretive—people who choose to live as recluses usually do so out of dislike of others—but Hermit seems all too happy to tell us his story.

  “I was a slave once,” he says. “I lived in a vast cavern deep belowground.”

  Kara and I exchange a look. This is the first I’ve heard of someone escaping the sentinels and reaching the surface.

  “There were thousands of us, forced to work in mines for the benefit of—”

  “How did you escape?” interrupts Kara.

  Hermit doesn’t seem pleased by the disruption but answers the question.

  “I found a secret passage, a back way in and out of the facility.”

  My friend and I exchange a hopeful glance.

  “Where is it?” asks Kara. “Can you show it to us?”

  “Go back? Never!”

  Hermit’s relaxed expression gives way to a look of panic. Oblivious to it, Kara keeps pushing.

  “Please,” she insists. “My father is a prisoner of the sentinels. With your help, we can free him. We can free all the humans.”

  “No!” refuses the man, now so upset his hands are shaking. Noticing his distress, Kara decides to change tactics.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “You don’t have to go back. Just tell us where the secret passage is.”

  Hermit shakes his head.

  “Please,” begs Kara, but the man has now grown silent and refuses to speak.

  “We should leave him alone,” I say.

  Kara nods.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, but Hermit ignores her. He sits in his chair, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth. I don’t know what happened to him, but it must have been traumatic. In time, we may be able to convince him to give us the location of the backdoor entrance, but for now, the best thing to do is leave him alone.

  “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go see Snowball. I bet he’s lonely.”

  Kara nods. We make our way to the first cavern and find Snowball chasing his own tail. He keeps going for a while before noticing us, but as soon as he does, he rushes forward and tackles us to the ground. At first, I think he’s trying to devour us, but then I realize he’s just playing.

  Kara and I spend the next few minutes frolicking with the prehistoric bear. As it turns out, he’s just a big, clumsy child who wants to play and get his stomach rubbed. I welcome the distraction, but Kara seems preoccupied.

  “You’re worried about Jonn, aren’t you?”

  She nods.

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Truth is, I’m not, but I don’t say that.

  “I spent over a month in this time. I know how it works.”

  Kara nods but doesn’t seem convinced. The next few minutes are spent in silence. I begin to wonder if perhaps resetting would be the easiest solution. Not only would it get rid of my frostbite, but it would allow us to reunite the team. Of course, there’s no guarantee Avalon was telling the truth when she claimed I was trapped in a time loop, but what motives could she possibly have to lie? According to her, fixing our mistake is impossible. Keeping us ensnared in a perpetual loop would not only allow her to perform her deeds unhindered, but it would punish us for interfering in her affairs. Still, the prospect of taking Avalon at her word makes me nervous.

  I’m debating whether or not to open a portal when Hermit joins us.

  “I’m sorry about what happened,” he says. “I don’t usually talk about what happened. I guess I still have unresolved issues.”

  I can’t help wondering what happened to cause such severe emotional scars, but I know better than to ask. Still, there’s something that’s been bugging me.

  “I have a question,” I say, hoping my inquiry won’t set him off again. “How did you manage to escape? Why weren’t you affected by the compliance drug?”

  Hermit beams proudly.

  “I’m vegetarian.”

  That explains it. It also explains the lack of meat in the soup.

  “I have another question. Why aren’t you like the other humans we met? You’re a true individual. Aren’t you?”

  Hermit frowns.

  “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?

  I don’t answer. I just stare at him, unsure how to react. His response not only proves the fallacy of Avalon’s claim regarding humanity’s evolutionary leap, but it leads me to believe there may yet be hope for humanity. If Hermit was able to evolve, then so can everyone else. It may take a few generations, but in time, all of humanity can grow into the true individuals they were always meant to be. I don’t know if that means the whole “individuality gene” thing was a lie, but I honestly don’t care.

  “Are there any others like you?” I ask.

  “Individuals?” asks Hermit.

  I nod.

  “Of course. There are dozens of human colonies scattered throughout the wasteland. The nearest one is less than a day’s journey from here.”

  My heart leaps with joy. For the first time since the failed rebellion, I allow myself to believe the timeline can, in fact, be reset to its proper course.

  “Who are they?” asks Kara.

  “They are descendent from the humans who were refused access to the housing facilities the aliens built for us after it was discovered the excavation of Earth’s core would cause a planet-wide ice age.”

  I’m surprised by how much Hermit knows about the history of this time. I should probably be suspicious, but the truth is I’m too excited to care. A plan is beginning to form in my mind, and the last thing I need is to get distracted with mere trivialities.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask my friend.

  She nods.

  If we can convince the free humans to help us, not only will we be able to liberate the slaves, but we can rescue Jonn and fix our mistake in one fell swoop. But none of that will happen unless Hermit agrees to lead us to the human colony.

  I share my plan with Kara, and she agrees it’s the most logical next step for us to take. The hard part will be convincing Hermit to cooperate.

  “Will you help us?” I ask. “Will you lead us to the human colony?”

  Hermit hesitates for a moment before shaking his head.

  “I have vowed to spend the rest of my life here. I can’t leave this place.”

  “Please,” begs Kara. “The entire fate of the enslaved humans rests on your shoulders. Would you deny them your aid?”

  As always, Kara is the personification of eloquence.

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help,” says Hermit. “I just said I can’t accompany you.”

  “I don’t understand,” I admit.

  “Snowball will take you to your destination. He knows the way. Stick with him, and you will be safe.”

  I can’t believe it. Moments ago
, all seemed lost. Now, I’m hopeful that history can be set back on course. As an added bonus, we have a guide that’s both capable of navigating the snow desert and protecting us from the many dangers I suspect stand between us and our destination.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I admit.

  “Your thanks will suffice.”

  “Thank you,” I say, but it feels insufficient. “Is there anything we can do to repay you?”

  “Free the humans. That’s all I ask.”

  “We will,” I promise.

  We spend the next hour or so with Hermit. He draws us a map and explains the exact route to take to reach the colony. He even gives us his one and only pack and fills it with supplies. There’s food and water, as well as the stinky cream I applied to my injuries. According to him, I must reapply it twice a day for a full week. This will keep the damaged skin from deteriorating and ensure no more damage is sustained.

  Once we’re clear on the road to take, we get dressed and return to Snowball’s den. Getting him to abandon Hermit isn’t easy, but after a long belly rub by Kara and a few tasty treats from me, he agrees to follow us. We thank Hermit one last time, then head off.

  Memory 49

  W e trek across the snow desert. Our progress is slow, but the map that lies within our travel pack keeps me from worrying. Kara and I both memorized our itinerary, and nothing short of a natural disaster can stop us.

  We ride Snowball, his massive frame rocking from side to side as he advances. His huge feet keep him from sinking into the snow, which allows us to progress at a rapid pace. Now that Kara and I are back to being just friends, we don’t have much to talk about. I enjoy the feel of her body pressed against mine and the tightness of her arms around my waist, but I know our closeness has nothing to do with love. The kiss we shared yesterday meant nothing. I thought we were dying, and I pressed my lips to hers in a gesture of farewell. Odds are, she doesn’t even remember it.

  It takes a few hours, but I finally think of a topic of conversation. By then, the mountain range toward which we have been trekking has grown quite close. A few more hours of travel should allow us to reach its base.

  “Why does Jonn hate Kidd?” I ask. “He isn’t a people person, but he seems especially annoyed whenever Kidd is around. Why is that?”

  “I’m not sure,” admits Kara. “I think it’s because of Kidd and Avalon’s relationship.”

  “They were a couple? What about Loxx? Isn’t he Avalon’s ex-husband?”

  Kara chuckles.

  “Kidd and Avva’s relationship wasn’t romantic.” The use of Avalon’s real name tells me she’s referring to the person she was before her son died. “He was her mentor. He taught her everything he knew. She was his pride and joy, the only assistant he ever agreed to train.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Few do. All people seem to care about are the atrocities she has committed since becoming Avalon. They have forgotten all of the great things she did for them in the past.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “She was the one who discovered time travel.”

  That’s true. I keep forgetting about that.

  “She’s also the one who invented the Virtuality Trainer.”

  I shiver at the thought of it, but I can’t blame the VT for what happened to me. Avalon was the one who tricked me into giving up my powers. The machine itself had nothing to do with it. Still, the Atlantean Council used the incident to discontinue its use. I feel bad that Kidd will never get to release the simplified version he was working on, but I believe the council’s decision was for the best. While useful, such technology could become dangerous were it to fall in the wrong hands. Perhaps one day the VT will be re-released, but for now, it’s better it remain a mere memory.

  “What else did Avalon invent?” I ask.

  “It’s impossible to tell with absolute certainty as she never cared for fame and gave up credit to most of her creations. All I can say is that nearly all of Atlantis’s recent technological advancements were invented by her or Kidd.”

  Giving up credit? That doesn’t sound like Avalon. Then again, no one is completely evil. Avalon may be obsessed with altering the past and saving her son, but deep down—very, very deep—she’s just like everyone else. She has hopes and dreams, visions of the future, and a longing to better the lives of the people around her. But that doesn’t change the fact that she has committed atrocities that can never be undone—or forgotten.

  “I don’t understand,” I admit. “Why does Jonn hate Kidd?”

  “Kidd grew fond of Avva over the years. He became protective of her and started thinking of her as his adoptive daughter.”

  “And?”

  “And then it happened. The fire.” She falls silent for a moment. “After that, she was never the same. She became obsessed with changing the past. Kidd tried to help her, but she was no longer the woman he had known. When she turned evil, everyone who had once cared about her rejected her. Everyone but Kidd. He refused to believe she had gone insane, choosing instead to trust in her inherent goodness.”

  “Kidd thought she could alter the past without completely changing the flow of time?”

  Kara shakes her head.

  “He thought she was misguided, that she could be saved. He still does.”

  That doesn’t sound like Kidd. He’s analytical. Risking his reputation in a vain attempt at helping a loved one doesn’t fit his profile. Then again, he did that exact thing when he gave Jonn the necessary information to blackmail the Atlantean Council into allowing us to pursue Avalon. But who did he do it for? Us or Avalon? I doubt our replacements would have thought twice about killing her. By allowing us to take her down, he was protecting her. As much as I like him, I’m no longer sure where his allegiance lies. Perhaps Jonn is right in choosing not to trust him. But only time will tell.

  We progress in silence. There’s still much I don’t know, but every once in a while a little piece of the puzzle falls into place, and I get a better understanding of the greater picture. Perhaps one day this insane adventure will actually make sense.

  The next few hours are spent in silence. The rocking of Snowball’s large frame lulls me into a near-meditative state. I’m just about to fall asleep when an unexpected shudder shatters the boredom.

  “What was that?” asks Kara.

  I scan the vast wasteland. Nibiru hovers high above us, its red glow turning the snow pink. Aside from that, all seems normal.

  “I don’t know,” I admit.

  I remain alert for a while before the lulling motion of our mount makes me lose focus once more. My gaze drifts, and I take in the surrounding waves of rising and falling snow with a grain of salt.

  That’s odd, I think. I stare at the moving snow for a while before another shudder puts an end to my complacency. Unlike the last, this one is accompanied by a low growl.

  I perk up. Kara’s grip tightens.

  “Have you noticed the snow?” she asks.

  I nod and focus on the water crystals. The rolling motion of the displaced powder seems strange until I understand what’s causing it.

  “Something is moving under the snow,” I say.

  “What do you think it is?”

  “I don’t—” I begin, but Snowball’s frame convulses before I can finish. A low growl erupts from his maw, warning us of impending danger.

  “Get ready to defend yourself,” says Kara.

  Defend myself? I wonder. With what? We have no weapons, no hopes of defeating whatever creatures lurk beneath the snow.

  Snowball growls once more, the snarl so powerful it shakes his entire frame.

  Nothing happens for a while, then the displaced snow converges toward us. Spooked, Snowball breaks into a gallop, but our pursuers have no trouble keeping up. They speed alongside us, geysers of flakes rising in their wake. It’s both beautiful and terrifying. The only upside is that I can now determine how many creatures we’re dealing with.

  “Dammit!”
I mutter once the tally is complete.

  There’s no way we can defeat seven creatures. Then again, we have no idea what kind of beings they are. They may yet prove to be harm—

  An explosion of flakes erupts by Snowball’s left flank, and a strange animal emerges from the depths of the snow. It’s small, with a thin snout and narrowed eyes. Glistening strands of ice-like fur coat most of its frame. Striking each other, the scale-like tufts fill the air with a strange yet beautiful tinkling melody. Though strange, the creature isn’t entirely unfamiliar to me.

  It’s a fox.

  The small canid hovers above the snow long enough for me to name it. No sooner has it been dubbed an ice fox than it sinks back into the powdery flakes. But the retreat is only momentary. It reappears, travelling in and out of the powdery flakes like a dolphin through water. I watch, hypnotized, as more prehistoric foxes appear. They swim alongside us, accompanying us on our journey. Or so I think until Snowball starts growling.

  They’re not escorting us; they’re attacking us.

  The ice foxes nip at Snowball’s snowshoe-like paws. The bites are shallow, but they’re sufficient to upset the prehistoric bear. Snarling, he barrels on, desperately trying to outdistance the foxes.

  “We have to help him,” says Kara.

  “How?”

  Silence.

  “I don’t know.”

  The frenzied race continues, silent but for the clinking of ice fox fur and the occasional growl. The canids persist in their assault of Snowball’s paws, yet they seem more interested in tiring than injuring.

  “I don’t think they want to hurt us,” I say. As if to prove me wrong, the ice foxes pick that precise moment to escalate their assault.

  The nipping stops, but the leaping persists. Taking careful aim, the canids spit wads of saliva at us. Most miss, but a few make contact with Snowball’s frame. Exploding upon impact, the globs of spit encase whatever is within range in a thin layer of ice. At first, the ice plaques shatter almost immediately but more and more remain as the ice foxes focus their fire on the prehistoric bear’s legs. Soon, a permanent sheet of ice has appeared on our furry friend’s paws. Hindered by the weight and the restricted range of motion, Snowball starts decelerating. The slower he goes, the faster the ice casts form around his limbs. And the more ice clings to him, the heavier he gets. Soon, he starts to sink, making each step a struggle. But still he charges on, wobbling forward until the ice becomes too much for him to handle and he crumbles.