CHAPTER NINETEEN
The artificial sun and sky felt real, and the sounds of the garden made Dr. Andalon imagine he were upon the surface of paradise instead of deep underground in a medical laboratory. Eden was beautiful. The smell of budding flowers and the slight buzzing of bees completed the feeling of reality. He sat upon a stone bench very close to and across from the children. They stared up with eagerness and waiting smiles, ready to answer his questions.
“How does it work?” David asked. “Is it as simple as breathing?”
“You mean,” Adam replied with a smile, “is it an inherent ability that we picked up on naturally and mastered as we matured?”
“I forget,” the doctor said, “that despite your outwardly ten-year-old appearance, you have the capacity and vocabulary to understand the science of your…” He trailed off. This entire experience was new—the ability to directly question and analyze responses from his subjects. His experiences with the primates at MIT left him with a bad habit of simplifying his vocabulary.
“Our what, David?” Eve inquired. Her question was polite and her features friendly when she asked, but David could sense an underlying distrust beneath the surface. Or was it unspoken worry or disdain?
“I spent my entire career working toward this day, even constructed the descriptive language regarding the science, but I’ve reached a loss of words. Do I call it an ability? A specialty? A power?”
The children shared both a look and a smile before Adam replied, “We refer to it as our craft.”
“That’s a very unusual description,” the doctor noted. “Is this because you work and weave the air like artisans?”
“That,” the boy responded with a smiling nod, “and more.”
“We do not manifest the air around us. It is like clay in the earth before gathered by the potter and placed on her wheel,” Eve added. “We shape what we feel around us. Watch.” Her hands slowly waved in the air between them, swirling a pattern that seemed to build upon itself. Slowly, a floating pirate ship coalesced and hovered in place with sails flapping and filling with breeze. Atop the crow’s nest flew a jolly roger flag.”
“It’s beautiful,” David remarked as he instinctively touched his hand, the one he had shaken with Adam’s manipulation when first introduced. “Why did you choose a pirate ship?”
Eve smiled. “It’s from a book we read a few months ago. It was about a magical place stumbled upon by pirates. During their misadventure, they found themselves cast away upon a new and fascinating world of opportunity.”
“We both loved it,” Adam explained, “with all the colorful characters and the imaginative world. We both got lost in the author’s story. It was an escape when all we’ve known is this laboratory.”
“What’s its name?” David asked. “The ship they sailed upon.”
“Estowen,” answered Eve.
“What does that mean?”
“To us?” Adam asked. “Opportunity.”
David reached out a finger and touched a sail, finding it resembled the canvas in texture as well as appearance. He again remembered the shimmering feel of Adam’s handshake with the ethereal palm and shuddered. “When I touch it, the sensation is strange, oddly foreign. Does it feel the same to you when you weave?”
“No,” Eve calmly replied, as a teacher explaining a concept to a novice. “How do you know fear, Doctor Andalon?”
“Fear is instinctual. We see, hear, or feel things out of place or unexpected, and those stimuli trigger sensory alarms within our bodies.” His eyes met hers. “Is that what it is? Your powers… your craft… so it is instinctual?”
She allowed Adam to respond. “Not at all, David. Describe the senses heightened in that state of fear, after the sensory alarms trigger.”
“Pulse quickens along with blood pressure and cortisol and adrenaline release. Breathing rate increases, and blood vessels to the lungs and muscles dilate.”
“And what are our minds doing when all this happens internally?” the boy asked.
David answered immediately. “The body prepares for danger by either fighting, running away, or freezing.”
Eve nodded. “Yes, that’s the physical and mental response, but only instinctually. Imagine if another chemical response occurs, one triggered by the heightened levels of cortisol and adrenaline. One that triggers your congenital ability to manipulate the elements.”
“That was the purpose of the Mendel Project,” David said, his mind returning to his lab in MIT. With sudden realization, he remembered the injections of epinephrine and the response by both batches. “So the epinephrine triggered Felicima’s ability to craft the flame around her, to wield it against me?”
“It played a hand, yes,” Adam agreed, “but her aggression suggests she was prone to anger or hostility. More likely, the hot emotion of rage was triggered by fear when you shattered the glass.”
“Hot emotion…” David’s eyes grew wide. “Are you able to manipulate fire when you are angry?”
“Certainly not we,” Eve promised. “But all emotions can be either hot or cold.”
“Or warm,” Adam added.
“Or warm,” she agreed.
“I don’t understand,” the geneticist admitted.
The nine-year-old children exchanged a look and Eve giggled before explaining. In a voice full of maturity and speaking with authority, she said, “Emotions vary not only from person to person, but from situation to situation. When you were angry in the lab, you were hot.”
“So anger is hot, and love is cold? Is that what you’re saying?”
“It would be better if you did not interrupt me, doctor, or we’ll be here all evening. Please don’t do that again,” she commanded with a harsh air of superiority.
David’s mouth shut instantly. Something other than her words, but in the way the child had spoken, had sent chills down his spine. From that point on he listened intently.
“Anger alone is neither hot nor cold. The fury you exhibited was hot. It was aggressive and hostile—abusive even, considering the poor animals locked in cages. A moment ago, I displayed the cooler version of the same emotion, one that passively set you to silence. Instead of fury I exhibited irritation.”
David waited a moment while she paused, finally realizing she was allowing him to ask questions, and so he did. “I think I understand. When Felicima was calm and cool, she could manipulate flame in smaller, more controlled ways—like delicately lighting a cigarette or sparking kindling for a campfire. But when I raged, she panicked and defended herself with fireballs.”
“Exactly,” the girl smiled proudly then continued. “Her cool concern changed to terror due to the raised levels of adrenaline, made worse by your injections. The pitiful creature was overloaded and could not help but try to neutralize the threat she perceived.”
“Does it only happen that way with fear? When adrenaline surges?”
“No. There are many reasons cortisol and adrenaline can build in a body, causing an otherwise rational person to overreact. Take for instance trauma. What are the lingering effects of emotional pain within a person, especially when experienced at young ages?”
“That… I guess it varies from person to person. An abused or neglected child will be pensive, worried about building toxic relationships or anxiously expecting loss around every corner. They will have trust issues or worse, become explosive themselves.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Yes,” agreed Eve, “they will. Worse, they will have less control over their overall range, since their emotional quotient is lower than the social norm.”
David stared in shock. His eyes reminded him that he spoke with children, but his ears suggested otherwise.
She continued. “The same can happen with happy emotions. When you met Adam, he controlled the air in such a way that he could not contain his satisfaction at meeting you. What should have been a tickle in your palm became a powerful grip that became as real as his own.”
The boy nodded, smiling shyly at the revelation of his unmasked emotion. “I had so been looking forward to meeting you, I could no longer wait. You’ve been our hope for so long, the key to both our freedom and our future, Doctor Andalon.”
David looked around the garden, suddenly seeing it as more than a lab, but a lifelong prison for the children. “You’re unhappy here?”
“Not unhappy, for we are well taken care of. Dr. Yurik treats us very well, and General Braston pops in now and again to ensure we aren’t lacking in needs.”
“What about Senator Esterling?”
The children exchanged a look, and David recognized a mutual dislike for his friend.
“He means well,” Eve replied, earning a nod from her brother. “But we’ve seen his future and fear the monster he’ll become. His vision will lead to many more troubles for the world and society he hoped to change.”
“Have you told him this? You could guide him. I know Michael and he will listen.”
“I assure you he won’t,” Adam said with a frown. “Doctor, we are treated well and we are happy with our surroundings, but we crave more. I would describe our situation as being curious of life like all children.”
Eve added, “But just as caged as the animals who perished in the fire of your previous lab, we desire freedom.”
“So you are unhappy?” David paused, considering life spent entirely in Eden… in the lab. He looked upward, toward the artificial sky and suddenly found it confining. Like the biblical Garden of Eden, he suddenly understood the fall of original man as told in the story. “You want to leave the lab and enjoy free will to make your own lives?”
Eve spoke with quiet confidence that he shuddered when she said, “That’s not impossible for us now, doctor.”
“Not now? What changed?”
“You are here now, Father.”
“Father? You desire a family and parents? Then what? Normalcy?”
She nodded. “Doesn’t every child desire and require the same things from their parents?”
“Brooke and I are having a baby. Perhaps we can introduce our child as a playmate as he or she grows.”
Eve frowned and looked at her brother. A cool breeze passed between them and Adam nodded. He turned to David and said, “That would be ill advised, given what you suspect and what we know is true.”
“What I… How can you know what I suspect? My experiments worked and we are with child.”
“She is with a child, but it is certainly not yours.” Eve placed a reassuring hand on the doctor’s forearm and said, “You rewrote her code, but yours was not fully repaired when she conceived.”
“Are you certain?”
“You’ve doubted this child’s origin but have not challenged Brooke or sought the evidence so easily found. Why not?” she asked, “Why would a scientist not question everything? Why can’t you question if she took a shortcut?”
“Why would I? I love her. She has put up with an incomplete man for so long, and I guess I wouldn’t call her shortcut cheating or unfaithfulness. I’m actually relieved the pressure to make her conceive is finally off me. I was failing in my experiment and welcome the end result. I’ve come to accept that no matter whose child lives within her womb, it shall be mine.”
“Rest assured,” Adam said, “that she loves you very much. But that child was conceived out of wanton mistrust for your scientific knowledge. You are close to a breakthrough and must continue your work. You must succeed in your desire to sire your own ancestral line—that’s our hope for true freedom.”
David pleaded, “How do you know so much about me?”
The children grasped hands and reached for his. He accepted them without question, completing the circle.
“Close your eyes,” Adam commanded softly, “and meditate with us. Slow your heart rate by focusing on your breathing. In a moment you will feel your mind within the ether, the gateway to the Dream World we have created.”
It took a moment for David’s mind to settle, he had so many questions burning within. But the boy’s voice was soothing and melodic, coaxing him into relaxation. With eyes shut, he focused on the darkness before him.
“Good,” the boy said. “Gaze upon the darkness but focus on the many flickering lights instead. Look for their pattern as you would a constellation in the night sky.”
He did not understand the instructions at first. The darkness was the same as every other time he had closed his eyes. But slowly the pattern came into focus. The stars in his mind’s eye were beautiful once he noticed them. Alluring and drawing him forward. The sensation was like something out of a science-fiction movie, as if he were navigating space in a slow-moving craft.
“Look for the wormhole,” the boy whispered, “you’ll see it on your right as we come around the bend.”
Skeptical, David complied without expectation of an outcome, but continued to play along. When he saw it, the wormhole was exactly where the boy described. After a sweeping feeling of turning, he experienced vertigo as his perspective shifted. The stars completed their shift on their own, orienting against a dense darkness that appeared within a tight circle of brightness. The children seemed to rush into the void, beckoning and inviting him to pass through.
“I see it,” he said with excitement, careful not to open his eyes and lose the moment.
“Then let’s leave this world and enter our own, Father.” Adam insisted.
Father? Their continued use of the term made him feel both unsteady and incomplete. Were they a reward for his hard work over the years? Figments of what he could never bestow upon a woman?
David felt a tug in his chest and abruptly lurched forward in his mind. The gravity of the vortex was blinding as stars passed by. His first thought was of leaping into hyper-space in the Millennium Falcon, a holdover from his childhood spent watching his favorite movies and playing games with his friends. This sensation was just as he imagined that experience would feel in real life.
Abruptly, he stood upon a firm blackness, no longer focused on the backs of his eyelids. He blinked, looking around as the two children smiled at his sides, each holding his hand and ready to lead him forward.
“This is our potter’s clay as we see it,” Eve explained.
As she spoke the ground warped slightly, shimmering and shaking but not in such a way to make him feel dizzy or ill. She waved her hand, deepening the ripple enough that a structure formed ahead. The building was his laboratory from MIT. All around, similar buildings emerged just as they had in real life. Even the bushes and trees were as he remembered.
“Why are we here?” he asked.
“Simple,” Adam said as he held the door open. “You have questions, and we have answers. Come witness our salvation.”
Every detail of the corridor was intact, just as it was before the fire. When they reached the door to the lab, David read the words, Mendel Project. Just as the night of the accident, someone had scribbled in black marker and added the words, but not for long. He felt the knob and turned, stepping inside. Every detail was the same as the night the dean pulled funding, down to the bottle of vodka and including the cages and the sounds of distress from Batch Bravo.
“How did you reconstruct this moment?”
“Because we were here, doctor, in the room with you on the night it happened,” Eve said.
“We often watch you, learning about ourselves and deciding what kind of father you would be,” Adam explained.
“Father?” He wondered if he was worthy, suddenly remembering his tantrum in this very room. He wasn’t ready for fatherhood. Despite Brooke’s condition, he did not deserve the title. “I’m no father. I’m not fit. I’m too focused on my work. I’m prone to selfishness and brooding.” He touched the bottle of vodka, finding it corporeal and surprised to find he could actually grasp it—drink it if he desired. “I lose my temper too easily.” He desired it now.
“But you’re the father of Andalon, David.” Eve’s words made him turn. “The work you did in this lab has been inside of you since first understanding genetics. Your life’s work has been both for the creation of life as well as the enhancement of the mind.”
Adam added, “Your seed did not contribute to our creation in the artificial womb, but your dream conceived the idea and others made us reality.”
“What will happen to us,” Eve asked, “when Senator Esterling and other military leaders realize we are more powerful than any weapon they possess? That the two of us could topple an army singlehandedly if challenged?”
Alarm suddenly consumed David’s brooding. He knew Jake and Michael would destroy his experiments the moment they suspected the children were a threat, especially if they became uncontained. He clenched his jaw, holding tightly the realization he would someday have to set the children free.
“Yes,” Adam read his thoughts. “That is correct. You will someday release us all.”
“All?” David did not understand. “The other embryos haven’t been developed. That stage isn’t set for trials.”
“Then you must encourage that stage sooner by promising Senator Esterling a way to control us,” Eve demanded. “Give him a need for more like us and a way to use our power.”
“But first,” Adam added, “you must ramp up the enhancements you’ve made to yourself and others. We will need all powers to awaken if you are to sire a nation.”
David felt bile rising. Anxiety twisted his stomach and he wanted to retch. He pleaded, “How do you know what I’ve been doing in secret?”
“We told you, Father.” Eve said. “We’ve been watching you for a very long time.”
The room shimmered as they broke the connection. David Andalon abruptly found himself sitting alone on a stone bench in the Eden Lab. Looking around, he realized the children had already risen and gone, leaving him alone to ponder their fates.