Awakening (17 page)

The man’s gaze finally fell on Devak. The GEN mouthed silent words,
Help me
. Then he convulsed, a brief ugliness before lying motionless, his half-open eyes unseeing.

As the tech tossed the datapod on a nearby workstation in disgust, she spied Devak. “What the denking hell are you doing here?”

In for a half-dhan, in for a dhan.
Devak pushed the door open and stepped inside. “I’m lost.”

He took a quick look around. At the end where he’d thought the beds might be placed were rows and rows of gen-tanks, and in several of them Scratch-marred GENs floated. Tubes crisscrossed their bodies, leading out of the tank to a clear box filled with pale yellow liquid. The GENs were motionless— sedated? Was that yellow liquid an experimental treatment for Scratch?

One of the enforcers left off manhandling the GEN and confronted Devak. “You don’t belong in here.” The enforcer had a hand on his shockgun, but as he noted Devak’s diamond bali, he dipped his head. “Young mar, you’ll have to leave.”

“Sorry, wrong room,” Devak said. “I was looking for Akhilesh’s lab.”

An impatient voice at the door claimed Devak’s attention. “There you are.” A pale-skinned minor-status woman in a medic’s tunic gestured out to the hall. “Your great-grandfather is downstairs.”

“Sorry.” Devak took a last look at the bank of gen-tanks, the peculiar yellow liquid, then followed the medic.

The minor-status woman led him back down the stairs, then to the fourth door down. Inside this first floor lab, Devak saw that as head of GAMA, Akhilesh was far more well-funded than Guru Ling. His lab was quadruple the size of the one in which Junjie worked, and bustling with techs. There was even more equipment than he’d seen upstairs, workstations along the walls and in the middle of the room, with comfortable-looking float chairs for the techs.

Akhilesh glanced over at Devak and nodded in greeting, then returned his focus on something a tech had up on a computer display. Devak could see some of the same colorful DNA patterns Junjie had been showing him, but from that distance it was impossible to make out any details.

The medic nudged Devak toward the curtains on the left side of the lab. “In here,” she said curtly, all but pushing Devak behind the curtain.

Pitamah lay in a reclining float chair, his eyes closed. The medic blathered on about being careful with his greatgrandfather on the trip home, that he should insist on Pitamah getting some rest and a good night’s sleep. Devak only listened with half an ear since his great-grandfather would do what he wanted, medic’s instructions or no.

Finally the woman left, and Devak leaned close to Pitamah, whispering, “Are you awake?”

Pitamah’s eyes slitted open. “Barely. Haven’t got a denking bit of strength left.”

“They brought in a Scratch victim. Still alive.” He explained how he’d followed the enforcers to the second floor and what he’d seen.

His great-grandfather’s gaze sharpened on his. “Could you tell if the ones in the tanks were alive?”

He thought back to that sickening view of a dozen or more tank-bound GENs, their bodies filled with tubes. “Why put a dead GEN in the tank?”

“To experiment, I suppose,” Pitamah said. “I don’t like it either, but we need GAMA’s help in tracking down a Scratch cure. Our friends can’t do it all.” Pitamah had taken to using coded language whenever he couldn’t speak openly of the Kinship.

“So there aren’t beds for the Scratch victims who are brought in alive?” Devak asked.

Pitamah’s gaze hardened. “That’s why we bring as many as we can to safety.” His great-grandfather squeezed Devak’s shoulder weakly. “I’ve spoken to Akhilesh about his treatment of GENs, and he swears he’s working to improve the way his staff handles them.”

“You couldn’t tell that from what I saw upstairs.”

“Akhilesh doesn’t command the Brigade,” Pitamah said. “But he does do a great deal of good. My treatment. Research to ensure healthier GENs, including finding a cure for Scratch.”

Except according to Junjie, Guru Ling was the only scientist working on that. But maybe Junjie didn’t know everything that was going on in here or upstairs.

Pitamah drifted off to sleep just as Junjie came looking for Devak. “That curry house should be open.”

Devak glanced at his great-grandfather. “Should I leave him?”

“He usually sleeps a couple hours after a treatment,” Junjie said.

Devak could see the logic in that, so he and Junjie headed out. The curry house was close enough it wasn’t worthwhile to unplug the AirCloud from its dock to drive. So they walked, dodging heavy vehicle and pedestrian traffic as lowborns and minor-status trueborns headed home from work. The moment passersby, trueborn or lowborn, saw Devak’s diamond bali, they gave him plenty of space on the walkway. Junjie they jostled against, even one or two lowborns bumping against Devak’s friend.

Devak told Junjie what he saw upstairs. About the GEN who’d died right in front of him.

“That’s Akhilesh’s main lab, where the real work gets done,” Junjie said. “I know he’s been sequencing Scratch up there, seeing if there’s a genetic component. Something to explain why some GENs get it and others don’t. Why lowborns and trueborns seem immune.”

“Then he is helping with a cure.” Devak body blocked a lowborn from barreling into Junjie.

“More like he’s studying it to death,” Junjie said. “Guru Ling is actually testing vaccines.”

The curry house was packed, but when the lowborn owner saw Devak’s diamond bali, he booted out two customers who’d barely finished their meal to offer up their seat. The place was steaming with body heat despite the chill outside, redolent with cinnamon and cumin. Devak splurged, choosing a bowl of curry with thinly sliced prime-grade drom and a scoop of rice. He would have paid for the same for Junjie, but his
friend insisted he preferred curried vegetables and kel-grain.

Stomachs full with good curry and plenty of hot tea, they made their way back through quieter streets to the lab. Junjie cradled a box of gulab jamun, a favorite of his that Devak had insisted on buying.

Pitamah was waiting in GAMA’s lobby, so Devak returned his visitor tag and said good-bye to Junjie there. Pitamah’s energy had improved, so he walked to the AirCloud rather than Devak bringing it around.

As they drove past the lab on their way to the skyway, Devak got a glimpse of someone just arriving at the GAMA lab. As they continued on, Pitamah turned in his seat to look back. “Is that Hala?”

Hala was one of his great-grandfather’s old friends from back when GENs were first engineered. Hala was Kinship, and along with the old medic Jemali, had helped rescue the lowborn children who’d had GEN circuitry installed in them through Devak’s father’s despicable scheme.

Pitamah settled back against his seat. “What business would Hala have with GAMA, I wonder?”

Then his great-grandfather fell asleep again, leaving Devak to brood over what he’d seen on the second floor.

J
ust as Junjie turned from giving Devak a final wave goodbye, Hala Hamia creakily pulled open the GAMA lobby door and stepped inside. The guard, Deha, smiled at the elderly high-status trueborn, even as she scowled at Junjie. Junjie suspected that Deha, minor-status like him, resented his higher-paying, more respected position as a genetic tech. She liked to make Junjie wait before she’d buzz him through the security door.

But with Hala here, she quickly snapped a bracelet with its visitor tag around the old man’s wrist, then hit the door’s release button. Tucking the carton of gulab jamun under his arm, Junjie jumped to open the heavy inner door. He stepped aside as Hala walked through, then proceeded slowly behind the old man as he walked to the last door on the left. Junjie waited a few more moments to make sure Hala gained entry to Akhilesh’s private office, then he entered Guru Ling’s lab.

Junjie heaved a sigh of relief once he was in his familiar workplace. He always felt so awkward around high-status trueborns. Except for Devak, of course, who Junjie had known
since they were second-years rolling around in the mud together. But even when his family had been demi-status, Junjie never quite knew what to say or how to act around high-status like Zul and Hala and Jemali. In a way, they seemed almost godlike by comparison to someone as lowly as himself.

Junjie returned to his computer, setting the carton aside on his workstation. He should have been done for the day, but he wanted to spend a little more time puzzling out Gemma’s dual identity. Plus he had the call to make once Guru Ling left, and this lab was the most secure place he could make it.

Junjie found a clean Petri dish and served himself one of the small, syrupy dough balls from the carton of gulab jamun. It had been hard to let Devak pay for dinner and this small treat, but it also wouldn’t have been fair to his friend
not
to take the gift. Devak never lorded his status over Junjie. Sometimes he’d let slip his dismay that Junjie was now minor-status, like the day of the Qaf sector explosion. But that was more Devak seeing injustice in Junjie’s fall.

Still, he wondered if someday even Devak, once he grew older and became as exalted as the adult high-status trueborns Junjie knew, would let their friendship fade. Junjie was surprised Devak hadn’t abandoned him already. But their connection still seemed strong.

One overly-sweet gulab jamun was all Junjie could manage, so he took the other three to Guru Ling’s office. She was packing up to leave, her expression preoccupied but not overtly unfriendly, the way the security guard Deha’s always was. Usually, with her brilliant mind and brusque manner, Guru Ling reminded him of his father, dead more than a decade. Now, with her long black hair loose from its braid, the messy
strands and her clear exhaustion softening her face, he could nearly see his mother.

“Would you like to take the rest?” Junjie asked, opening the carton to show her.

She shook her head. “Thank you, but too sweet for me. Garud-mar enjoys them.”

Akhilesh might be demi-status through happenstance, but he scared Junjie just as much as any high-status. Still, it couldn’t hurt to take him an offering. That would give Guru Ling time to be well and truly gone, and Junjie would be alone for his call.

They departed the lab together, Guru Ling turning left toward the entrance and Junjie right toward Akhilesh’s office. Junjie turned to watch her go, wondering not for the first time if Guru Ling used pub-trans because she didn’t
want
a lev-car, or because, like Junjie, she couldn’t
afford
one. She might be minor-status like Junjie, but she deserved enough salary to buy at least a used AirCloud or WindSpear.

Junjie heard the rumble of conversation and realized the door to Akhilesh’s office was ajar. That made it a little easier. It would have been more intimidating to knock on a closed door.

Junjie lifted his hand to tap at the door, when Hala’s words froze him. “These are
adult
GENs whose cells you’re altering? Not the under-fours?”

Akhilesh’s answer was an inaudible buzz. He must have been on the other side of the room, maybe behind his desk.

Hala spoke again. “And these have been successful changes?”

As Akhilesh’s voice blurred again, Junjie remembered his
datapod. He’d installed a tiny amplifier and receiver in it, handy both for gathering gossip for the Kinship and for his other compatriots.

Junjie dug the datapod from his pocket, thumbed on the amp/receiver, and held it up close to his ear. Hala’s voice would be too loud, but now Junjie could hear Akhilesh.

“ . . . several trials,” the GAMA head said. “Some failures, but it’s to be expected.”

“And you’re using upload programming?” Hala blasted out. “Not the tank?”

Upload programming to alter GEN genetics.
Junjie was so astounded by that revelation, he nearly missed Akhilesh’s response.

“With the problems we’ve encountered creating and gestating GEN embryos, we need a reproducible method to repurpose adult GENs, to alter their skill sets when possible to address critical needs. In fact, we’re considering re-engineering selected GENs . . .” Akhilesh’s words faded out, and for a moment Junjie feared his device had failed. But then the GAMA head continued, his voice taking on a dramatic flair. “ . . . to allow them to reproduce.”

Junjie couldn’t suppress a gasp, but luckily, Hala had responded with the same surprise, and neither Hala nor Akhilesh seemed to have heard Junjie’s inadvertent slip. Junjie looked around the hall just to make sure once again that he was still alone.

“Can it be done?” Hala asked, excitement clear in his tone. It was well-known amongst the Kinship that Hala fervently wanted GENs to have the freedom and ability to procreate.

“I believe it can, and must, if we are to keep the GEN
supply steady,” Akhilesh said. “Unfortunately, there’s been a problem with my most promising subject.”

“What kind of problem?” Hala asked. “Surely it’s something solvable.”

“Ah, well.” Akhilesh cleared his throat. “The GEN girl was in the midst of alterations. She’d volunteered, mind you, expected changes. But agitation was a side effect of one stage of the treatment. She panicked one night when she was alone in the lab and slipped out. Sadly, she’s not only gone missing, but I’ve heard from sources she may have contracted Scratch.”