It felt like a blink instead of a dreamless slumber. My fragmented mind tried to question just how long it had been. A day? Two weeks?
The traveling pod was far from comfortable. Getting out of it became a struggle as my spine was stiff, nearly collapsing to the floor due to the weakness of my muscles who had been asleep for far too long. Limping over to the small refrigerated supplies, I immediately grabbed three small bottles of Stimuli, squeezing every last drop and swallowing it all. Three bottles usually did the trick. It wasn't long after that my vision was no longer blurry and I could observe my home for the next few months.
The bedroom was quaint, which was perfectly fine with me. It wasn't the lonely penthouse I was used to, a penthouse I hardly spent any time in. This was just enough room for a bed and a desk to work from, although most of my work would be spent in the lab. Given the amount of payment for traveling to this Colony, I had the feeling the lab would be quite substantial. At least the shower and bathroom seemed spacious which pleased me.
This wasn't my first time traveling between colonies and nor would it be the last. I thought I'd get used to it all by now and not feel so sick, but my body was a bit different than most. The trauma I already experienced, continue to experience, sometimes became even more aggravated with these long travels. The Stimuli seemed to help, but not as fast as I liked.
What I wouldn't give for a warm cup of coffee, maybe that would help. Such luxuries and pleasure would have to come later. There was work to be done.
How quick this morning would be was entirely reliant on me. I knew from the start that upon landing, this mission would be unique as I would be one of the briefing members. Lectures in front of curious students or other cadre of scientific caliber were normal. Lectures in front of an entire mission group was something else entirely, because it meant there would be plenty of people questioning my presence here. I would question their presence as well, but it wasn't my job to hold others accountable. All I could do was my own work, and do it as best I can.
Cold sink water would have to replace coffee in the meantime, splashing it against my face. My fingers glided over the familiar, webbed indents into my skin around my lips and jaw. Sometimes I had dreams that the scars weren't there. Sometimes my mind delved into a place wondering what my life would be if I never received those scars. Perhaps my work would not be as relevant. Perhaps that penthouse I lived in wouldn't be so empty. I could still feel the way it burned, the chemicals etching into my dermis all the way to the muscles, eating away like acid. The disfigurement still caused pain, and not that of just the psychological and emotional. The ugliness was a symbol, one I couldn't forget, one I needed to cure.
I had to focus on something else. Now wasn't the time to get lost in those scars again. Masks were common in the more figurative sense. In this day and age, humanity was alienated by individuality. Masks created uniformity. Only for me, the physical mask around my lower face certainly made me stand out. Applying the pain relieving cream, I let the mask settle in, breathing in and hearing my filtered breath exhale almost like a machine.
Like most masks, this one was of my own design. It allowed me to manipulate it all with the small chip in my brain connecting it. It could create oxygen in hostile environments, it could filter toxins, and most of all, control the subtle pain neurons that stunned my brain. It was now a part of me, more than just a piece of clothing or an accessory, but rather like an additional organ I didn't have to think twice about for it to function.
The only way I could remove this mask permanently would be if my work became successful, if the ultimate hypothesis could be tested, tried, and become true. This mission could unlock the key to it all.
I could see from the corner of my eye, the monitor on my desk blinking a subtle red, hinting at incoming messages and transmissions. It was time to start the day and dive straight into work. I took one last glance at the mirror, my emerald green eyes always outshining against the black of my short hair, ending just around the area of my jaw. Perfect to keep short, but just enough length to tie up if needed. Despite feeling like shit, with the mask on at least, I didn't look like shit or the faintest disheveled.
Black was the primary color of my wardrobe, since it always seemed to clash beautifully with a white lab coat or equipment. Very rarely were there few pieces of attire with green to match my eyes, my second favorite color. But that was for special occasions. Day one in this colony didn't feel very special, despite what my anxious breathing suggested. Despite knowing I would assist in a briefing, I knew attire wouldn't matter to the rabble. A black long sleeve and cargo pants would simply have to do. Attire would mean nothing when I knew everyone else would be staring at something else in wonder.
The monitor I then sat in front of came to life, my own little workstation connected to the same chip that controlled most of my equipment. I didn't have time this morning to perouse through old findings or former lectures. Immediately a video message appeared, clearly filmed prior to landing here, and thus the mission began:
"Good morning, Doctor Deveraux. I'm Zee, your Virtual Assistant for this mission. I will be the one assisting in cataloging your data, your video logs, and any questions you might have with your sponsor: The Science Bureau of Humanity, or rather SBH. Do you have any questions before I begin?"
Before I could shake, nod, or release a thoughtful sigh, Zee immediately began talking again. As much as I could hate interacting with people, some days like this one, virtual assets really could get on my nerves. However, even I had to admit, the data was much better read by someone like Zee rather than some corporation secretary who saw statistics and biological hypotheses as a foreign language. This work was a stretch, a risk of funds that people who ran these corporations hardly wanted to take. But given my past research, and our ultimate goals aligning, this mission was worth the cost.
"By now, you have arrived at Colony -001, better known as Colony Negative, the supposed origin of all colonies, the birthplace of our civilization. The search for Colony Negative began in 5203, hundreds of years ago when research indicated all genetic material that we know of stemmed from one original point. It wasn't until six months ago, this planet was confirmed as the point of origin. You will be one of the first of many to fully explore Colony Negative, a privilege only less than one percent of the Colonial population could ever hope to imagine.
"While this mission is similar in objectives compared to those in your past, this mission is considered highly classified. Your mission is to collect data and tell us what that data means. This mission is already shared amongst the leaders of the crew and you will brief the rest of the staff later this morning about such data. The details of your mission, however, must remain a secret. Your objective is to gather the biological and cultural evidence that pinpoints the genetic makeup of humanity. It is believed Colony Negative could be the key to unlocking the potential of peace, a mutation that can remove all violence, aggression, and devastation in our worlds. Your data could provide the materials to create such a mutation.
"Be advised, the other men and women accompanying you into this Colony have their own objectives. Despite attempts to obtain more intelligence for you, we are unable to provide any details as to what those objectives are. Should you ever find out the details, we advise you to let them continue as long as you can keep collecting data. Should anyone begin interfering with that process, please log that information so that we may intervene if needed. Everyone aboard your station will feel most important in terms of their mission, but we assure you Doctor, your research is of utmost priority.
"However, do attempt to socialize. Your reports show indication of unwillingness to work with others, which ultimately skews your data. Despite the differences in missions, it would not hurt to get along with those around you. After all, this is all for the good of humanity. Should any personal problems arise with those around you, do inform Security and with us, and she will hopefully manage the situation. We do hope you enjoy your stay at Station Evolution, and welcome to Colony Negative!"
The cheery high pitched voiced assistant immediately disappeared and I couldn't help but rub my already sore temple. The fact this was highly classified didn't concern me, it was the fact they could see my reluctance to really work with others. Others in my field weren't difficult, after all, we were all creatures of similar habit: in love with data, not so much people. It was everyone else that seemed to irk me. Engineers, politicians, therapists...and most of all military. Sponsors loved to protect their assets and research with trigger-happy soldiers, who ironically enough, were usually the primary issues with their grand design.
A world with peace. An entire universe filled with love, prosperity, and harmony. No wars. No fighting. No greed. A perfect utopia for every colony and the future to come. It was the aspiration of every great civilization, and only studying the past could push us all one step closer to such a goal. My own motivations played a part, but like any human, I too was unstable, biased, and most of all, filled with a capacity of violence. I had control of my urges, though, unlike most people. I found sanctity in all forms of life, and that couldn't change, despite everything that's happened.
Another video pulled up before I could pull away, this time not recorded but live feed. I smiled bittersweetly at the sight of long black hair, the only distinct difference between my genetic copy and myself. Twins were such a rarity these days. Yet that only made our bond a bit more special.
"Jack, you're looking a bit spry this morning!" Angelique smiled widely, "You didn't throw up this time, did you?"
"No. Not this time. I made sure to drink at least three Stimuli to avoid that," I smiled in return, feeling a bit of warmth despite the slightly unwanted call.
"How are you?"
"Good," I lied, "Just trying to push through this morning. You know how it is. Briefings, beginnings, and ultimately trying to figure out who to avoid and who might prove most useful to my research."
"Well, I know you'll do great in your brief. You always do great at explaining these kinds of things," Angie laughed softly. While she was just as bubbly as Zee, she wasn't as annoying. I could never find my sister annoying, not anymore.
"You've always been the better people-person," I retorted with envy. She always had. She just had this way of people, of caring for them beyond just mere data. And people always seemed to love her, deemed her much more approachable than myself. She always received more attention from men, not like that ever broke my heart. She was the reason for my data, the source of my hypothesis. If only there were more people like her, who radiated like sunshine, this world would be a much better place.
Morning debrief begins in thirty minutes, please report to the main hangar as soon as possible. The overhead speaker blared over the video-com and I couldn't help but release a nervous breath.
"You're going to do great! You always have, always will. And, you'll have to let me know if there's any handsome gentlemen. Afterall, they tend to get a bit stir crazy, if you know what I mean, being so far from home," she teased.
I rolled my eyes, but couldn't hide the smile, "Will do. I'll talk to you later, Ange. I love-"
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The video call ended before I could finish the words. It didn't matter. She knew how much I cared about her. All of this was for her: the sweat, the tears, the dirt underneath my nails, all of it had to be for her. It wasn't something I could go the rest of my life without attempting to try.
Now, I just had to swallow my pride and nerves to get the rest of this morning over with. The beginnings were always the most difficult. Saying hello was so much harder than saying goodbye.
I was fortunate enough to snag a warm brew of coffee, sipping it between the small slits in my mask. By now it was second nature, muscle memory to drink with it despite the narrow limitations. It had taken weeks of spills and mess to really get it right. Just like any prosthetic, it took time to adjust. One thing I could never adjust to was the staring. Maybe that's why I disliked people. From a mere glance, I could get a sense of their character, of their impulses (or rather, inability to control them). It was often stares of bewilderment, followed by incredulous scoffs or even a nudge to their friend.
Hey, get a load of this idiot. What a fucking freak. I wouldn't even tap that with a six foot pole.
Very rarely did sometimes those stares fill me with a sense of power, but only when the mask intimidated those already with frail mindsets. Fear was powerful. It's why the quest for my mission was so dangerous and almost impossible. Even I could fall prey to its bias. And in order for this data to be perfect, I had to ignore the stares, the whispered comments, or the bewildered smirks of the men and women around me. Dehumanizing comments shouldn't persuade me to follow down their same path.
But as the room filled with more and more staff and personnel, it felt so much easier for me to shrink and hide amongst the number of bodies. For now. Soon enough I would have to stand in front of them all. The one thing that surprised me the most was the amount of weapons. Again, I was used to the presence of soldiers or police, but this was a good half percentage of the entirety of people in this room. The room was filled with this exhausting aroma of esprit de corps.
"Good morning everyone," a loud feminine voice broke through the chatter, silencing everyone, "I am Chief Security Officer of Station Evolution: Kylie Ruenova. Let me begin by saying, thank you all for volunteering for this specific, pioneering experience. Here, we are all trailblazers for all different aspects of life. Everyone here comes from all walks of life within the colonies, those in District Five, of course. While I do not expect everyone to get along, I must advise that this is not the place for breaking the rules. Crimes will be punished just as they are back in the colonies. So play nice. We are all one unit here. For anyone victimized by a crime, please report it as soon as possible to security and we will investigate.
"It is a pleasure to work alongside such distinguished guests with prolific careers. Should all go well, hopefully all of our names can be placed together in the textbooks of the future. This is our moment to make history. We all know our objectives. We do this in the name of District Five and all its Colonies. Our future and the future of our children rests on every shoulder in this room. Now, with that settled, we can turn our direction towards Doctor Deveraux who can explain just a bit more about why we are all here."
When CSO Ruenova glanced at me, so did everyone else's eyes. Again came the stares. I cleared my throat, which only echoed louder with the mask as I approached the front. Despite my fingers feeling like they were shaking, I kept my resolve. A five minute brief and that was it, nothing more. Of course there were bound to be questions given some of these people lacked the brain capacity for comprehension, but I would get there when it happened. I pulled a tablet out, displaying a projection of my minor presentation. Luckily, everything was already created by SBH and all I had to do was read between the lines.
"Morning. I am Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux. You can either call me Doctor Deveraux or Jack, nothing else. I am your lead biocultural anthropologist with the Scientific Bureau of Humanity from Colony 500. We have arrived at Colony Negative, the believed foundation of our ancestors. It is believed according to the evidence found in previously destroyed colonies from before, every single human originated from this place. It is my job to determine who these people were, why they left, who stayed behind and what was the foundation of their culture," I paused, seeing half boredom and half confusion on everyone's faces. What a great start. I suppose it couldn't get worse.
"Our genetic structure, while it has changed over the millennium, still resorts back to genetic findings here on Colony Negative, which is why we believe this to be the point of our origin. Data we can collect-"
My presentation was immediately interrupted with someone walking from behind me. And the presence alone must have held some sort of significance, given every single soldier stood from their seats with strict posture and erected attention. I couldn't hide my frustration, craning my head back to see a tall, broad soldier walking in. He didn't wear a similar uniform, but it was apparent from his military shaved brown hair and dog tag necklace he was one of them. Not like the muscles, or the pistol and sword attached to his hip didn't give it away either.
There was a towering confidence about him, his head held up high. Yet, there was almost a hint of dread in his eyes. It wasn't the weight of leadership that I read that concerned him, but something much deeper. Clearly, his mind was scattered. It wasn't uncommon for military minds to process one thing at a time, but it was clear from initial observation I couldn't judge him amongst his peers. He clearly rose above that, just how high was dependent on him. Hopefully his ego wasn't as inflated.
"At ease!" he shouted, seeing all the soldiers sit down as he walked over.
"I'm sorry, is there a reason you've interrupted my presentation?" I couldn't help but ask. My question immediately bothered him, astounded him really as his gray eyes met mine. His astonishment soon turned into slight amusement, a cocky smirk forming. His eyes scanned me, as if determining the proper approach to retort to my snarky question. I didn't mean to be brash. But I already hated doing this to begin with and being interrupted was only an additional sting to this whole operation.
"Apologies, Miss...?" he asked, extending his hand. I glanced down, seeing a hand twice the size of my own, arm littered with visible, strained veins. The nurses would certainly love him, even with the muscles making it harder to extract blood.
"Doctor," I corrected him, which didn't falter his egotistical grin, "Doctor Deveraux."
I didn't shake his hand.
"A pleasure, Doctor. And I apologize, I didn't mean to run late. I was unable to find a quality razor," he laughed, "I'm Damien Rok."
Damien Rok reeked of expensive cologne and a brief scent of aftershave. The nicks on his jaw certainly gave the appearance he was telling the truth, that he rushed his shaving to try and be here on time. No doubt the few weeks in the traveling pod resulted in a beard that went against military regulations.
"Please, do continue. Whatever you have to say sounds important," he smiled again, moving to sit in a chair right in the front row, crossing one leg over the other comfortably before glancing up at me.
As I was about to speak, a voice among the military men was louder than initially intended.
"Looks like we found CSO Ruenova's first victim, didn't take long at all."
The group erupted in that vicious, camaraderie laughter that was despicable. It was a step up from early school gossiping and teasing, something I was fairly used to growing up. It always held a sting to it, but unfortunately for them I wore an invisible armor impenetrable by their comments. Nothing could hurt as badly as the scars beneath my mask, and for that, I was grateful.
Instead, my eyes steeled, my posture that of annoyance. And that was enough for Damien, who also was laughing, to immediately clear his throat as our eyes met once more. CSO Ruenova seemed annoyed, perhaps having struggled with such overwhelming, not-so-hilarious forms of masculinity herself. She nodded back at me to continue, having to take the brief moment of silence to recall where my trail of thought went.
"My interest in all of this is data. And each and every single one of you will provide me data, one way or another. After this briefing, everyone is slotted a time with the medical professionals to complete physicals and blood work. This will eventually become clockwork once deployments outside this Station begins. We will monitor everything from brain chemicals to cellular activity before and after you return from your daily missions. That is the role, at least, of the scientific team I will overlook. Any incidents with them or questions should be directed to me or any other senior staff," I continued, taking another deep breath. For some reason, it was hard to focus with that grin still appearing in the corner of my eye.
"Now, my role is to deploy amongst you all with your various missions to collect cultural and evidence of the life that was here from before. Every little detail matters. Should smaller teams find anything you believe to be of significance, please document and take video or photographic evidence to give to me. Any signs of life, horticulture, artwork...anything you can find will be up to me to determine significance. And I greatly appreciate it if during your normal duties, should you find anything, to let me know as soon as possible," I exhaled, glancing around the room, letting the projection before me falter, "Does anyone have any impertinent questions?"
"Yeah!" A soldier rose his hand, after shouting of course, "What the fuck is a biocultural anthropologist?" Numerous cackling and giggling, much quieter than the laughter of before, still rose through the cracks.
"It's the study of human biology relating to culture, whether individualistic or that of a civilization. I use data to analyze behavioral constructs within a culture, how that culture shapes and defines a person, and most of all what that culture meant to a person in the past. Data of the past can be used to measure and quantify the effects of how our current and present culture greatly affects the political economy and wellbeing of colonists. Does that answer your question?" I asked, although I could tell from his furrowed forehead the answer was no, "Do I need to explain it in more childish terms?"
That question certainly seemed to strike a nerve.
Damien raised his hand, this time remaining silent until I glanced at him, nodding gently for him to proceed.
"So what is the data for? Surely you don't need data to hypothesize that everyone in this world has two eyes, a mouth, and a giant gaping asshole to shit out of," he asked, as seriously as he could. Clearly by more laughter around him, he was testing my patience as politely as he could get away with.
"You're right. What a perfect example of a giant, gaping asshole," I remarked, seeing it was the first time his smirk faded. And the laughter around him turned into howls, as their commanding officer was immediately shut down. This man probably got away with always getting the last word, which given his personality was some egotistical and cocky retort.
I could care less if I was already making a bad impression, despite the words Zee so encouragingly tried to uplift earlier. Yeah, I knew immediately I wasn't making friends here, at least amongst this military rabble.
However a small clearing of the throat in the back made everyone glance back at a man dressed in a clean polo and lab pants. More than likely it was someone assigned to the scientific team. Given his shy personality and the fear in his eyes as everyone glanced at him, he definitely had some sort of social anxiety. It was quite common in the scientific field.
"I...sorry, Doctor Deveraux. I'm a huge fan of your work. I've read all your publications," he spoke shyly, nervously rubbing his hands together, "for those that don't know, Doctor Deveraux is the reason cancer is eliminated. Through her work and data, scientists found the gene responsible for the greatest people killer in all human history. And that discovery ensures every human born since then will never have cancerous cells in their body, ever. All of us should be honored to work alongside you. Whatever you're here for, it must be important."
"Thank you," I replied genuinely, seeing the room grow silent. Cancer had been, well, devastating. It had taken various forms, and arriving to colonies only made it worse due to different geographical environments, new organic materials, and mere social division. Finding a sequence in that gene that mutated into cancerous cells was my proudest work, but not because of the result but because of what I learned. Years ago, it would have seemed impossible to have preventative measures for cancer, let alone cure it. I hadn't even been looking for something so significant at the time.
Cancerous eliminations only taught us more about the human body and its limits, but also potential. Even to a soldier who may have never experienced cancer in their life or the lives of those around them, they understood the importance and significance of my work. While I would not brag about it, it was nice that someone had recognized my work.
"Yes, he is right. Doctors Gage and Ross from SBH were the ones to eliminate the gene and mutation for cancer, creating the cure. It was found in my data originating from Colony 599, which was decimated nearly a thousand years ago. Colony 599 was a phenomenon of a peaceful society, a community based on working together, helping one another, almost as utopian as modern day society could allow. Colony Negative predates 599 by several thousands of years, meaning there is so much more that all of us can learn. Through the tragedy of the past, we may yet learn to create peace in the future. That is my mission, and I thank you all for being here to assist in your own ways."
As I was about to move from the center spot, Damien stood up, as if offering his seat to me. It was clear from the fact nobody else was leaving, a similar briefing would continue. And clearly, that of a more militaristic nature.
"I must ask before you conclude Doctor...if Colony 599 was so perfect and successful, why'd they die out?" Damien asked curiously, almost hoping that question would trap me. Wouldn't that just prove my research to be faulty? How could an almost perfect society that pushed for peace and ushered the community to support each other, how could something like that die out? Wouldn't their people and ideals live on?
"Men like you bombed it to smithereens..."