CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Brooke Andalon found her husband hard at work in the hologram. David analyzed the DNA strand with such keen focus he never heard the door open. Or, rather, he was still so angry that he had ignored her out of spite.
Sam Nakala looked up from a collection of petri dishes and offered a supportive smile. He was such a sweet kid.
“We need to talk,” she said to her husband.
“I’m not ready,” he replied without flinching. It had been the latter.
“We’re trapped together in this bunker for a long time, so you’ll have to discuss it with me at some point.”
He refused to meet her eyes and instead zoomed in on a portion of the helix. “I can find ways to avoid you, even down here. I’ve got enough work to last me several decades now.” He paused, then sighed. Exasperated, he asked, “Give me one good reason to forgive you.”
She did not hesitate, revealing a secret she’d held for several weeks with hopes of perfect timing. “We’re having a child and I’d like to resolve our issues before he or she is born.”
David paused in his work. They had tried for years to overcome sterility—both his and hers. After nearly a minute, and in a quiet voice, he asked, “The injections worked?”
“Yes.” She gestured at the lab. “Just as your theories worked here, they worked on yourself. You reversed your genetic code.”
Dr. Andalon, despite the jeers by the MIT faculty, was a genius. He understood genetic sequencing more deeply than any who came before him in his field, and his innate ability to isolate and read encoded traits had allowed him to take sequencing to a new level. He understood that simple gene mutations contributed to sterility in both males and females. His side work with MRNA had isolated those mutations and found a way to force his own body to rewrite its code. He stood and hugged his wife.
“I love you,” he told her.
“I betrayed your trust,” she responded.
“If it wasn’t for you,” he replied reluctantly, “we’d have lost everything, and all our research would have been wasted. In a way, though I’m still mad, this lab never would have happened if it wasn’t for you.” He placed his hand on her belly. “And this baby changes everything.” Brooke kissed her husband deeply, appreciative that he finally understood her actions.
When they finally pulled apart, David lit up, suddenly remembering a point he wanted to share. “I need to show you something.”
“What is it,” she asked, her inner scientist taking over.
“Look at this code.” He climbed into the hologram, zooming in on a strand.
“That means nothing to me,” she said.
“It means everything to the experiment. It means we were correct. All of this time we were right!”
“Correct in what?”
“Batch Alpha had abilities but also higher intelligence.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Consider Adam and Eve. They’re only ten years old but intellectually superior to any college student I’ve ever taught—even at MIT.”
“I’ll agree to that,” she said.
“That was my manipulation in Batch Alpha. I pushed their volume for intelligence quotient to the highest level I could obtain.”
She frowned, trying to follow but not keeping up. “But how does that explain Batch Bravo? If Felicima used pyrokinesis, how does that compare to Batch Alpha’s aerokinesis?”
“The emotional instability of higher intelligence explains it all.”
“David?”
“Yes?”
“Dumb it down for me.”
“In 2017, researchers concluded higher IQs are associated with mental and physical disorders,” he explained. She shrugged, silently urging him to continue. “Which means by increasing their IQ, we also increased their potential for emotional instability.”
“The screaming?” No one had noticed Sam had entered the lab. They turned at this voice. “Felicima and her brothers and sisters were prone to aggression and easily stimulated.”
“That’s right,” David agreed.
“But what does that have to do with the Alphas,” Brooke asked.
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“When did they create the airburst that knocked us out?” David smiled while waiting for her answer.
She paused, remembering David’s drunken outburst. “When you threw the vial across the room.”
“Exactly! They reacted violently to my tantrum.”
“So you agree it was a tantrum,” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.
“Not fully, but yes.” He paced as he reasoned out the scenario. “I had just given both batches a shot of epinephrine. They were primed for hot emotional response.”
Sam, who appeared as confused as Brooke, asked. “What do you mean?”
David pointed toward the main lab. “What did you first notice about Adam and Eve? What stood out the most?”
“They’re calm,” she observed.
“Eerily so,” agreed Sam.
“And what powers did they reveal?”
“Telepathy,” said Brooke.
“Aerokinesis,” said Sam.
“Controlled aerokinesis,” David corrected his assistant. “Adam formed that wisp of air into a corporeal hand I was able to grasp.”
“Firm handshake,” said Brooke, suddenly understanding.
“Now,” continued David, “imagine having that power but also pumped full of epinephrine.
“You’d lose control,” answered Sam, “and it would manifest crudely.”
“The airburst?” whispered Brooke.
“The airburst,” agreed David.
Everyone in the room considered the plethora of possibilities, but Brooke offered the first objection. “But we would have seen evidence of gamma waves from Batch Alpha, and we’ve had yet to observe that.”
“True,” agreed David. “That part bothered me as well. We should have seen those by now.”
“Yes, we did,” countered Sam. “I sent you an email the other night.”
Both David and Brooke turned, wide-eyed and waiting.
Dr. Andalon moved closer to his assistant and, in a low voice, asked, “What are you talking about?”
“The night before the lab burned, I observed a dual entry into gamma.”
David frowned. “Why didn’t you record it in the log?” he asked.
“I did, and you replied by email the next day and dismissed it, saying it was coincidental.”
“Sam,” David said, “I never sent that email.”
Both sets of eyes turned to Brooke, silently questioning her involvement.
Hers grew wide with understanding. “I didn’t interfere.” After they continued to stare doubtfully, she insisted, “I wasn’t aware of any gamma readings, I swear! I hadn’t passed anything to Stephanie in quite a long time, guys!”
David considered her words and quietly accepted, but Brooke would have great difficulty overcoming the lack of trust she had created between them. I just hope he doesn’t learn everything I’ve hidden, she thought. Or I really will lose him forever.
He turned to Sam. “Tell me what happened. From the beginning,” he said, “all of it.”
Both David and Brooke listened intently to the story, how his singing had raised gamma in Batch Alpha. “Even Felicima had relaxed that evening,” he explained.
After Sam had finished, David pulled up a screen. “Show me,” he said. “Where in the gamma range were their readings?”
“I don’t remember exactly. It was a while ago.”
“Guess then,” David said, bringing up a chart on the display. “Give me a place to start.”
Sam stared for a moment, then traced a line with his finger. “I’m pretty sure it was here.”
Brooke felt her heart quicken. A glance from her husband confirmed he had made the same connection. “This is while you were singing?” she asked.
“Yes. Felicima calmed and so did King and Lynette.”
“David?” Brooke demanded.
“I know,” he replied. “I’m as confused as you.”
Sam looked worried, like he had said or done something wrong. With nerves creeping into his voice he asked, “What does that mean? I could be wrong, but I’m fairly certain that’s where the readings were.”
David spoke quietly when he answered. “You did fine, Sam. This is simply bigger than we thought.”
“I know what it means,” Brooke explained. “Studies of combat soldiers with traumatic brain injuries were studied a few years back. The elevated gamma waves peaked in that range. This is a region previously only believed possible through deep and consistent practice of meditation.”
“What does that mean?” Sam asked.
“It means,” David said with a grin, “that Batch Alpha achieved telepathy and proved my theory.” He pointed toward a monitor watching Eden. Adam and Eve were sitting on a bench, facing each other and in a deep meditative state. “King and Lynette communicated the same way these children do. I want a full spectrum analysis of the children’s waves to confirm, but I’m confident what we’ll learn.”
Sam nodded, but still appeared confused. “What about the brain injury? What does that prove?”
“It proves nothing,” Brooke said, “but it explains Felicima. Brain trauma can occur with a single event, like striking your head during an explosion or with repeated injury—similar to concussions on a football field. Or, it can occur over time through sustained emotional experiences.” She took a deep breath then continued. “Children who are continually exposed to abuse, neglect, or violence in the home develop the same brain patterns as one that’s been injured during war. Add in sexual violence or trauma, and they might as well have survived a bombing themselves.”
David added, “Didn’t you say the others agitated Felicima?”
“I did,” Sam agreed. “She was terrified of them, as if things went on after we left the lab.”
“And the fire, David. Don’t forget about the fire and what you saw her do,” Brooke insisted.
Andalon quietly nodded, fully understanding his role. “When I was drunk that night of the fire,” he said, “I threw bottles, screamed, and scared every monkey in the lab. But that was after I had taken them from the safety of their cages and injected them with epinephrine.”
Brooke frowned, suddenly realizing a missed detail. “You told me you were trying to elicit a response. How, exactly, were you trying to accomplish that response?”
The darkness lurking behind her husband’s eyes crept in, either with remorse for his actions or satisfaction at the reward for his acts. When he answered he said simply, “I was cruel, Brooke.”