Unchanged (7 page)

For the past few months, Dane has been extensively preparing us for our interviews and public appearances. We've received countless uploads on effective media strategies, body language, the art of conversation, and social etiquette. Not to mention a full pod's worth of archived press interviews with important people.

I can now speak with eloquence, walk with poise, and make witty banter for hours on end. But it doesn't mean I don't feel like a fraud when I do it. And it doesn't mean I'm actually
ready
for the entire world to know my face.

My feet feel heavy and uncooperative as I walk the perimeter of the empty cottage. My eyes don't want to follow my path around the house. They drift. They are drawn to one place.

To the empty patch of dirt where the bench used to be.

Where the boy and I used to leave each other messages.

In just one night, a new dandelion has managed to sprout up in place of the one I destroyed. It's a strong weed. A rebellious fighter. Despite all of Diotech's advances in horticulture—despite all of Dr. A's attempts to squash it from existence—it still grows.

A memory instantly wells up inside me, too strong to hold back, too powerful to control. The anguished guilt that accompanies it nearly doubles me over. There's nothing left to do but close my eyes and let the memory overtake me.

“Did I ever tell you about our bench?” Lyzender says, trying to squeeze my hand. The sickness in his veins reduces his efforts to a meager muscle spasm. “It was made of white marble. In your front yard.”

His body is racked by a cough that leaves a smear of blood on his lips. I pluck a tissue and dab at the crimson droplets.

“Every morning when you woke up, you were supposed to bury something under the bench. It was your signal to me that you remembered.”

“Remembered what?” I ask.

“Me.”

I press my lips together, stifling a shudder. “How did you find the strength to do it so many times?” I ask. “Why did you keep coming back when you knew I'd look at you like you were a stranger?”

He closes his eyes and then whispers, “You never looked at me like I was a stranger. That's how I knew they could never win.”

My eyes snap open and I look toward the open gate. I should leave. I should walk away and never look back.

That is, after all, the real reason I returned here today, isn't it? Because I was hoping the walls of my former prison—the remembrance of my former crimes—would motivate me to do the right thing. To
be
the right person.

But now that I'm here, every dark corner of my mind is lit with curiosity. Every part of my body is drawn to the spot on the desert floor that represents my treasonous acts. As though my old self is calling to me, inviting me back.

I fight it, but not hard enough. The
want
is too powerful. It overpowers the
should
. The defect buried deep within me is strong today. Stronger than I've ever felt it.

I have to know.

I can't leave here not knowing.

My feet find their own way. My waning resolve pulls me to my knees. And before I can give my mind the opportunity to dissent, I am digging.

I am digging.

I am digging.

The dirt is hard and tough and cakes painfully under my nails as I claw and scrape at the ground. The earth is so compacted, I find it hard to believe that anyone has buried anything here recently.

So why are you digging?
a voice somewhere inside me asks.

But I don't have an answer.

Something simply compels me to dig.

Dr. A doesn't believe in hunches. He says they are for unscientific people who would rather trust in nonsense than learn how the world works.

But I don't know how else to explain the sensation that's coursing through me. The certainty overtakes me like programming overtakes a drone.

There is something here. I know it.

Yet the hole is now more than a foot deep and I have come up with nothing. I glance at the sun rising in the sky. They will come looking for me soon.

What will Dr. A think if he finds me here, literally digging up a past that I'm supposed to forget?

But I can't stop now.

Not when this conviction is pulsing through me like sweet fire. Not when I've never felt so alive.

My fingertips are bleeding but I keep going. Any wounds I inflict on myself will be healed by the time I return to the Owner's Estate. I feel like one of the wild dogs I sometimes see roaming outside the compound walls, ripping at the dirt in hopes of finding food.

Then my hand hits something. Something solid.

I dig faster until I've completely excavated the buried object. It's a small wooden box. I hastily brush the remaining dirt away and gasp when I see what's carved into the top.

Like a memory etched in wood.

The symbol.

Our
symbol.

“It means eternity. It means forever.”

I remember how I always liked it. The endless loop of the eternal knot. The way it almost looks like two inverted hearts, crisscrossing at their cores.

My fingers are thick with numbness as I feel for a latch and pop open the box.

A single object is housed inside. I recognize it immediately. The smooth sides, the clean, precise edges of the metal, the way it glows green when I swipe my fingertip across it, activating whatever is inside.

It's a cube drive. Exactly like the one Lyzender stored my stolen memories on when we ran away.

Exactly like the one Kaelen had when he came to bring me back.

But how did it get here? Buried more than a foot below the earth?

Drives aren't normally used on the compound. Not when the Diotech network allows us to wirelessly transfer data between devices and server pods.

I remember the last time I saw one like this. It was in the year 2032. I had taken it from Kaelen. I had used it to show my foster brother, Cody, all my memories. So that he could see for himself what my past was like.

This was when I still believed Diotech was the enemy. When I was still firmly under Lyzender's spell.

And then what?

What happened to that drive after Cody accessed my memories? I don't remember seeing it again. Kaelen and I left. Did we bring the drive with us? I certainly didn't. And I don't recall Kaelen having it.

It must have been left behind in Cody's house. In the guest room where Lyzender lay sick and dying. Where Kaelen administered the Repressor that disabled Lyzender's transession gene, cured his illness, and trapped him in time forever.

That was over eighty years ago.

Which means …

A ping flashes across my vision, disrupting my thoughts. It's a message from Kaelen, asking where I am.

I return the now-empty wooden box to the hole and shove the pile of dirt on top of it. I do my best to smooth out the small mound that I've formed, even attempting to resurrect the fragile dandelion that was tossed aside during my excavation. It looks lopsided and sad when I'm finished.

I push myself to my feet and slip the drive into my pocket.

I take off at a run, leaping effortlessly over the concrete wall that used to hold me in. That used to protect me from my own rebellious spirit.

The entire time I run, I think about the small cube banging gently against my hip. A hard drive that once held all of my memories.

Does it still? Or is there something new stored inside its sturdy metal walls?

Something that someone wanted me to find?

That has been buried for nearly a century.

 

13

LEAVES

I sprint across the empty field and cut through the Agricultural Sector. Normally I try to steer clear of the creepy cottonwood tree in the corner for fear that its gnarled, twisted limbs will reach out and grab me. But today, I don't have time to make my usual wide arc around it. I still duck my head and avert my eyes as I pass it, but just as I'm about to clear its last outstretched branch, I hear the far-off sound of a little girl screaming.

I slow and turn around, the piercing noise coming to a halt as soon as I do. That's when I see the man standing beneath the tree, his red-handled shears dangling from his limp hand, as if he had been in the process of trimming the tree but then simply stopped mid-snip. My rib cage tightens around my heart, threatening to squash it like a bug.

Rio.

My eyes dart back in the direction I was running. I could keep going. Pretend I didn't see him. But he's already staring at me with those stony eyes. Like he's expecting me to say something. I consider pinging Kaelen and asking him to come help me. He's always so good with Rio. So composed. Unlike me, who turns into a useless mess in his presence. I know Kaelen would only be disappointed if I summoned him, though. He thinks I should be able to handle this. And he's right. I should. But now my hands are shaking and my mouth has gone bone dry and Rio is still just standing there, mouth slack, arms at his sides.

I steel myself and take a few steps toward him and the unnerving tree, holding my breath while I walk, fidgeting with my fingers. I do exactly what Kaelen would do. I force a smile that I hope looks genuine and I say, “Good morning, Rio.”

But something is wrong. He doesn't answer. He always answers Kaelen. He always returns the salutation and mutters something about how many hedges there are around the compound. Not today, though. In fact, he doesn't even move. His eyes are still fixed forward. Not on me anymore, but on something in the distance behind me. I steal a glance over my shoulder but see nothing of interest. When I turn my attention back to him, his trimming sheers drop from his hand, clattering to the ground.

“Rio?” I can hear the quiver in my voice.

When he still doesn't respond, I wave my hand in front of his face.

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

Is he alive?

If it weren't for the fact that he's standing up, I would safely assume he's not. He looks like a bot who simply ran out of power halfway between locations, waiting for someone to come by and juice him up.

I step in front of him and suck in my breath as I brave a glimpse directly into his eyes. He doesn't register my existence with so much as a blink. I can feel my stomach tumbling as I search for something. Anything. A flicker of recognition. A gleam of the man who used to be there. Who risked everything to help me escape with Lyzender. Who came to find me in the past. Who betrayed Dr. A at the price of his mind. His faculties. His life.

But I don't see any of that. I only see a shell of a person. A man who's been replaced by a hollow void.

I shudder and step back, bowing my head once more and returning to the path. But a hand on my arm makes me shriek. It's squeezing so tight, the blood flow is stanched.

With horror, I look up to see Rio's face inches from mine. The emptiness in his eyes is gone. Replaced with something intense. Something crazed. A determined wildness that reveals too much of the whites around his irises.

“Sariana,” he says, his voice tight and full of warning.

Sariana?

I glance around. Who is he talking to? I'm the only one here.

I try to pull away but his grip is strong. I could rip through it and break his hand but his mouth starts to move again, stopping me. His lips flutter without making a sound.

It takes me a moment before I realize what's happening.

He's trying to tell me something.

“L-l-l-l-l—” More saliva comes out than actual noise. It drips down his jaw.

“Rio?”

“L-l-l-l-l—” I can almost see the struggle on his face. I can almost hear his mind screaming in frustration.

I gently pry his fingers from my arm, shaking it out to restart the blood flow.

I move away, but he reaches out and grabs me again. This time by the wrist. My gaze lifts to meet his just as the word comes spilling out of his mouth. “Leave.”

 

14

SEQUENCED

When I arrive home, two hovercopters are parked outside the Owner's Estate. Crest is ordering around a harried team of valets and housemaids who are loading the luggage and boxes for our tour.

Crest stops to give me a wave and then notices my hands. They're caked in dirt. “What on earth have you been doing?”

“Digging,” I say, knowing I can't lie to Crest. It's no use even trying.

I fear she's about to ask why and I won't have an answer to give her, but fortunately, one of the valets trips over a floating hovercase, kicking it open and spilling garments onto the grass. Crest groans and looks to the sky, as if asking it for help.

I use this distraction as my chance to get away, bounding up the porch steps.

“Clean yourself up!” she calls after me, not even bothering to turn around. “And change into the travel clothes I laid out for you.”

I sigh and mutter my assent. Even my travel clothes are coordinated. Crest says once I leave the compound, I will be in the public eye. Everywhere I go, I have to look breathtaking, be on my best behavior, and never appear bored. “ExGens are the epitome of a sparkling, charmed life. You must look vivacious at all times.”

I was tempted to joke that I think Dr. A omitted the “vivacious” gene when he created me but I didn't think anyone would appreciate the humor except me.

As promised, when I reach my bedroom, I find a shimmering black bodysuit waiting for me on the bed.

I remove the cube drive from my pocket and place it on my bedside table. I don't have time to shower or bathe, so I simply scrub the dirt off my hands and arms, watching it wash down the drain in a light brown swirl of soap bubbles and mud. I find myself hoping that the extra-strength Diotech cleanser will wash away more than just the dirt on my skin. Maybe some of the dirt on my conscience as well.