Unremembered (15 page)

‘What are you doing?’

‘Taking these off,’ he says casually.

I look down and see a thick metal cuff lying idly on the ground next to my feet.

‘But—’ I scan the room for signs of my attacker. Or attack
ers
, rather.

I see the two large men collapsed on the ground on the other side of the barn.

‘Are they –’ I swallow hard – ‘dead?’

‘Nah,’ the redheaded man responds as he releases the second shackle. I move my left ankle in a circle. ‘Just deactivated.’

He holds up a small black gadget, cylindrical in shape, with a single silver prong protruding from the end. ‘It’s the same one they used on you, actually.’

‘Deactivated,’ I repeat, silently remarking on the peculiar word choice.

The redheaded man rises to his feet. ‘The human brain is a complicated thing. We’ve learned a lot about it in the past hundred years. Mainly about how to manipulate it.’ He
grips the device between his thumb and forefinger and brandishes it towards me. ‘This is called a Modifier. You see, the brain functions on electricity. The Modifier sends electrical currents
to the centre of the nervous system, essentially putting the brain into sleep mode.’ He nods towards the unconscious bodies on the ground. One of them lies on his side, one leg twisted
awkwardly around the other, his left arm sprawled perpendicular to his torso. ‘They’ll be awake and good as new in less than half an hour. They won’t even know what
happened.’

‘But why?’ I ask him. ‘I thought – I mean, aren’t you
with
them?’

He bobbles his head from side to side, returning the strange brain-scrambling device to his pocket. ‘Yes and no. It’s . . . complicated. I guess you could say we are here for the
same reason.’

‘What reason is that?’

He laughs as though it’s a ridiculous question. ‘You, of course.’

Even though this is the very answer I was expecting, I still find myself wishing he had said something else.
Anything
else.

I glance over at the bodies, focusing on the one with the darker skin. Who jumped down from the hole in the ceiling and grabbed me. ‘I wanted to fight him,’ I say pensively, almost
to myself. ‘I really did. But I couldn’t. It was like . . . I didn’t know how or . . . I wouldn’t let myself.’

He sighs. ‘I’m afraid that’s my fault.’

I blink. ‘
Your
fault?’

‘Your DNA is imprinted with the instinct to run. Not fight.’

I squint at him. ‘What?’

‘I wanted to give you both, so you could at least defend yourself, but my request was denied. It was believed that if you had any fighting impulses in you, given your strength, it might
cause problems further down the road if you were ever to . . . well –’ he chuckles – ‘rebel.’

I stare at him in complete disbelief, hardly able to process what he’s saying.

‘So,’ he goes on, seemingly oblivious to my reaction, ‘I decided, for your own protection, I would at least give you a flight instinct. So you could safely escape any danger.
That’s why you probably feel a very strong desire to flee the moment you encounter any perceived threats.’

Speech doesn’t come easy. My tongue feels as though it’s too big for my mouth, but finally, in a barely audible voice, I’m able to ask, ‘Who
are
you?’

He bows his head, almost looking ashamed. Then he takes a deep breath. ‘I’m the person who made you what you are.’

What I am.

Not
who
I am.

The grim disparity between those simple little words makes me shudder.

‘And
what
am I exactly?’ I immediately flash back on the conversation I overheard between Heather and Scott before I left.

‘It’s like she’s a . . . she’s a . . . a robot.’

‘Am I human?’ I add, the words barely managing to escape my rapidly contracting windpipe.

He sighs, as though this, of all the questions in the world, was the one he dreaded the most. ‘The short answer is yes.’

‘The short answer?’ I repeat dubiously.

He bends down and frees my hands, then leans back on one of the rusty metal contraptions that looks like it hasn’t been touched in years. ‘You see,’ he says reluctantly,
‘it’s not as straightforward a question as you might think.’

I frown and shake my head. ‘I don’t understand. It seems like a pretty straightforward question to me.’

‘Let me ask you this,’ he begins pensively, folding his arms across his chest. ‘If a human being – a man – were to lose his arm or his leg in an accident and it was
replaced with a prosthetic – an artificial limb – would he still be human?’

I rub my left wrist with my right hand. The shackles left a reddish mark around my tattoo that quickly starts to fade. ‘Yes, of course.’

He nods. ‘And what if he lost all his limbs and had
four
prosthetics – two arms and two legs – would he still be human then?’

I shrug. ‘Yes.’

He twists his mouth, causing his red beard to ripple. ‘OK. Now he goes blind. And his eyes are replaced with small cameras that send signals to his brain to tell him what they’re
seeing. Is he human?’

I nod hesitantly but don’t reply.

‘
And
he needs a heart transplant. So doctors give him a synthetic heart. It’s manufactured in a lab but it works the same way as an organic heart. Is he still human
then?’

I shift uneasily in my seat, not liking where this is going. ‘I suppose so.’

‘And then his brain melts down but doctors are able to download and copy
all
of his memories and experiences on to a computer. They build him a synthetic brain that will function
exactly like his old one.’

‘Are you talking about me?’ My voice is quivering and my eyes are misting with tears. ‘Are you saying I have a synthetic brain and heart and cameras for eyes and prosthetic
limbs?’

‘Shh,’ he soothes, pushing himself off the contraption and hurrying towards me. He kneels down again at my feet, looking up at me. And once again I can’t help but remark upon
the kindness of his eyes. ‘No, Sera. I’m simply giving you a very extreme example to show you how complicated a question it is.’

I feel my whole body deflate with relief.

‘What makes us human?’ he asks. ‘Is it our hearts? Our brains? Our senses? Our limbs? Ask a hundred people and you’ll get a hundred different answers.’

I peer down at my legs, remembering how fast they carried me through the trees. So fast my pursuer couldn’t keep up.

‘What are you saying?’ I ask hoarsely. ‘How does this apply to
me
?’

‘Sera,’ he begins gently, ‘you are so special. Unlike anyone. My greatest creation of all time.’

‘Creation?’ I repeat. My lips feel numb as the word stumbles out of them. ‘What did you do to me?’

He takes hold of one of my hands, rubbing a rough thumb over my skin. ‘I made you perfect.’

My mouth goes dry. I try to swallow but it only makes me gag. I try to speak but words won’t form. It’s probably for the best. I’m not sure what I would say anyway.

‘You are the first human being in the history of the world to be created entirely by science. The most flawless sequence of genetic code in existence. Everything that our species has been
craving – beauty, strength, intelligence, resistance to disease – has been engineered in you.’

His words haunt me, causing my lips and fingers to tremble. I shake my head, wishing I could scream at him to stop talking but I can’t. And so he goes on.

‘Researchers have been working on the science of synthetic biology for years now. It’s the creation of life from scratch. Synthesizing in a lab what Mother Nature has been making in
her backyard for aeons, and then improving upon it. But no one had ever progressed further than a few single-celled organisms. That is, until us. Until . . .
you.
You are one of a kind. A
scientific miracle.’

Infuriation rises in my chest. I don’t want to be a scientific miracle. I don’t want any of this.

It’s the anger that finally revives my voice. I open my mouth to express my grievances aloud but I never get the opportunity.

A booming voice echoes from the entrance of the barn, startling both of us.

‘GET AWAY FROM HER!’

I turn to see Zen walking slowly towards us, a heavy determination in his step. His arms are stretched out in front of him and cradled in his fingers is a device I’ve never seen before. It
looks to be made out of some kind of black metal and it’s shaped like an upside-down
L
. There’s a round barrel with grooves in it that sits in the middle.

The redheaded man rises quickly to his feet. ‘Lyzender,’ he states calmly, as though he expected this encounter.

Zen continues to approach us, stealing a curious glance at the unconscious men on the ground while keeping the device pointed firmly at the redheaded man’s face. ‘Step away from her,
Rio.’

I glance between them, confused by their exchange. ‘You two know each other?’

They both ignore me.

‘This isn’t necessary,’ says the man Zen addressed as Rio. ‘You can put the gun down. We’re both on the same team here.’

‘Like hell we are!’ Zen shouts. He takes a step closer to the man and shoves the black object in his face.

Gun.

Gun.

I rack my brain for a definition but find nothing.

‘What is that?’ I ask, standing up and walking towards Zen, my eyes glued to the object in his hand.

‘Sera, be careful!’ the redheaded man warns me, reaching for me. But Zen forces him back with another wave of whatever is in his hand.

I freeze in place. ‘What is it?’ I ask again.

‘It’s a gun,’ the man identified as Rio explains. ‘It’s a weapon that can be used to kill or severely injure someone.’

‘Oh!’ Zen cries out, rolling his eyes. ‘So suddenly you’re willing to teach her things.’ I can hear the sarcasm on his tongue. It’s bitter. I now understand
the definition.

‘I taught her everything she knows,’ Rio argues back.

Zen shakes the gun. ‘No!
I
taught her everything she knows.
You
ruined her life.’

Rio holds his hands up in a surrendering gesture. ‘I can see how you would view it that way, Lyzender, but I assure you—’

‘Shut up!’ Zen screams, transferring the gun to one hand and beckoning me forward with the other. ‘Sera, we’re getting out of here. Why don’t you wait outside while
I take care of
him
.’ He pronounces the word with an air of disgust.

I glance between them again, the seriousness of the situation starting to sink in. ‘No.’

‘Sera,’ Zen says, losing his patience, ‘this is not the time for you to argue with me. Please, just step outside.’

‘I don’t think you should hurt him,’ I say. I have nothing to back up my plea except for a nagging feeling in my chest.

Zen closes his eyes for a brief moment. ‘Sera, you’ve lost all your memories. You don’t know what I know. He’s evil. And selfish. He doesn’t have your best
interests at heart. He has only his own.’ He sighs. ‘Sera, he does
not
love you.’

Love?

The word takes hold inside my brain and doesn’t seem to want to let go.

‘He released me,’ I hear myself argue in response.

‘Because he wants to take you back there!’ Zen argues passionately. ‘And continue to destroy your life.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong, Lyzender,’ Rio interjects. ‘I only want to—’

Zen takes another step towards Rio, the gun now a mere foot away from his head. ‘I said SHUT UP!’ he yells. ‘Don’t try to confuse her again. It won’t work any
more.’

‘Stop!’ I shout desperately, holding my head in my hands. ‘Please. I need to think.’

Zen falls quiet and they both look at me. I massage my aching temples with my fingertips. This is too much information to absorb at once. I can’t process it all. I don’t know how to
make sense of it. I need to sort through it one thing at a time.

I begin with ‘How do you know each other?’

‘My mother works with him,’ Zen says, disdain dripping from his tone.

‘And where do you work?’ I ask Rio, but Zen is the one who answers.

‘At an evil corporation that has zero respect for human life. Something I didn’t realize until it was too late.’

Diotech
.

Rio closes his mouth and juts his chin forward.

‘What do you do for them?’ I ask Rio, but again Zen is the one who responds.

‘This!’ Zen motions to me. ‘This is what he does! He toys with people’s minds. He manipulates reality. He plays
God
. He turns human beings into . . .’

‘Into what?’ I ask feebly. ‘Into monsters like me?’

Zen’s harsh expression immediately softens and he moves closer to me, careful to keep the gun pointed directly at Rio. ‘No.’ He uses his free hand to touch my face.
‘That’s not what I meant. I’ve never thought that about you.’

‘Then what did you mean?’

‘I didn’t—’ Zen struggles to find the right thing to say. ‘I . . . just mean, you can’t ever go back there with them. I won’t let you. Because who knows
what they’ll do to you.’

Rio is mysteriously quiet. I assume he’s either hiding something or he’s given up trying to argue with Zen and his gun.

Or he’s silently acquiescing.

I step up to him, close enough to feel his strained breath on my face.

‘Sera,’ Zen warns. I hold up a single hand to silence him.

I peer deep into the redheaded man’s tired, hooded eyes. They’re a faded greenish-grey colour with tiny specks of brown. He holds my gaze. Tenaciously.

As hard as I try, I can’t find anything malicious there.

In fact, I only see the opposite. I see the way Heather looks at Cody. The way Kiyana looked at me.

Can you fake something like that?

I wish I knew.

‘Is it true?’ I challenge Rio. ‘Those things he said about you?’

‘Sera.’ I hear Zen groan behind me. ‘I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m not
him
.’

‘Is it
true
?’ I press, ignoring Zen.

Rio’s swollen eyelids drift to a close. ‘It’s true,’ he whispers.

I break eye contact and turn to Zen, who appears genuinely surprised by Rio’s admission.