Andy climbed into the lorry and walked to the rear, undressing and disarming at the vat. Clara averted her eyes, sitting on the lorry’s edge, but the technician Debbie watched him shamelessly. Clara inspected the AMC’s terminal; she was unfamiliar with the programme which it ran, but knew of its capabilities. It was hard-coded to store all of the DNA information of anyone who calibrated: their DNA, a breakdown of their archetype and abilities, when they were Augmented, and sometimes information on their development. You couldn’t edit things from the console, but you could pry. Originally, the information was uploaded to the Bulwark Master Network which once monitored the development of Augmented technology on a rapidly advancing, global scale. However, the network had gone dark years ago, the information on its vast mainframe lost forever.

Andy stepped into the AMC’s vat and closed the door behind him. His expression was sunken. He glowered at Debbie as she activated the programme. Clara knew he hated to recalibrate. Based on his reaction, when she had first calibrated two days ago, she’d expected some harrowing battle with the self and subconscious, or some intense physical pain, but it had been none of that, rather it was peaceful and introspective. Perhaps that had something to do with each of their archetypes. Andy possessed a first wave Augmentation Serum–developed while the technology was in its infancy. Perhaps the AI assistance governing recalibration was more crude and invasive.

Conductive steam filled the glass chamber. Andy’s head lulled, he closed his eyes, but his fists remained tense.

“You should think about recruiting a gang.” Alister had climbed into the lorry and leaned against the exit, arms crossed, his head just about touching the ceiling. “It makes things a lot easier.”

“We prefer to work alone.”

“You will work alone, except, above everyone else. That’s the way the New Patricians operate. Sapes are excited to work for us, many see it as an honour. A fight for a greater purpose.”

“Sapes?”

“Homo sapiens. The lower rung on the evolutionary ladder.”

“Okay.” Clara looked away, unwilling to engage.

“You should consider joining the New Patricians.”

Clara knew the proposition was coming again, but still hadn’t fully prepared her response. “I’ll bear it in mind.”

Alister paused, then leaned forward in his chair. “You’re not being honest with me, Clara. And that’s okay, I suppose it’s normal in this world. But be frank with me. What do you think of our nation?”

“I think I don’t know enough to make a call.”

“Then learn more.” Alister smiled, rubbing the dirty-blonde stubble on his chin. “I hereby invite you to return with us to the Golden City. It is a day’s ride north, a little outpost we’ve been nurturing ahead of the arrival of the nation. You will be fed and quartered, free of charge, and when you wish to leave, you are free to go. Think of it as a holiday.”

Clara’s heart jumped at the prospect of luxury, but knew there was a catch. “Put the coordinates into my terminal and I might stop by.”

Alister’s shoulders sank. “What is out there that is more important than your future?”

“You see, that’s it.” Clara pointed at him. “That’s what I don’t like. The phoney language. My future? That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is my business.” Alister seemed like he would say something else, but shut his mouth and turned away. “The world is changing again, rapidly. Do you not want to be at the centre of that change?”

“You’re being vague. Everything’s always changing.”

“The world before the cataclysm… I don’t know if you remember it, but it was far from perfect. With all the problems in the world, all the war and pollution and civil unrest, humanity was at its limit. The cataclysm was a breaking point, it wasn’t random. It happened for a reason. The end of a dying breed, the Homo sapien. We rose out of the ashes, you and I, a new breed… Homo augmentus. We will rebuild the world, one little town at a time,” he lifted his arm to purvey Milltown out the back of the lorry. “Bring the world back under the rule of law.”

“Law,” Clara said. “Really?”

“Are you sceptical?”

“That’s a cheap word. Could mean a lot of things.”

“Our laws are based on the inalienable principles of nature. Survival of the fittest. Because without strength, there would be nothing left of the world. This conversation would not be happening.”

“You want to know something, Alister?” Clara bit her tongue, careful not to let her frustration get ahead of her; but if the New Patricians had examined her calibration specs, they likely knew already, and her point was just too juicy not to make. “I wasn’t Augmented until just a few weeks ago. What you’re saying about sapiens,” Clara jabbed the centre of her ribcage. “That was me, for nineteen years that was me. And it was my grandparents, and it’s James up there in his hut.” She nodded towards the hillside and took a step towards Alister, the anger rising inside her. “If I hadn’t injected the serum, would you say you’re better than me?”

Alister remained unmoving except to nod. “Yes. I am sorry, you are beautiful, Clara, but sapes are limited. Flawed.”

Clara raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? You’re not flawed?”

Alister bobbed his head to the side. “I am, but not in a biological sense,” he conceded, winking.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“You? You’re perfection?” Clara looked him up and down with derision. Behind her, the technician sniggered, then turned the sound into a cough.

“You do not think so? I am offended.” Alister laughed, shifting his stance, leaning over her. “It goes beyond physical features. It is science. The serum alters our reproductive organs. We pass on superior genetics, and ensure a future for humanity. The Homo sapiens caused the cataclysm, it is the responsibility of the New Patricians to rectify. Rebuild the world. Repopulate it with a stronger breed of humans. Homo augmentus.” Alister’s eyes lingered on hers, then drifted downwards, appraising her. “It is your responsibility too.”

“You mentioned already.” Clara crossed her arms across her stomach, feeling exposed without her combat jacket. She turned away from Alister, gazing out of the lorry into a thicket of bushes, anything to avoid encouraging him. “I don’t see very much difference. Okay, so there’s a weapon inside of us changing our DNA. We’re still just people. We all have the same needs. The same human flaws. We’re all going to die.”

“The changes you’re feeling might be small now, but in time, they will transform you.” Alister took a step closer to her. Her skin prickled, and her hand drifted towards her sidearm. “A woman like yourself is rare. There are so few Augmented people in this world, even fewer are female. You could play an important role, Clara.” His voice was soft. She could smell his perfume, subtly masking the scent of wine on his breath.

Clara jumped down from the lorry and paced on the roadside. “I’m not interested Alister, you can conquer the world without us.”

His expression transformed subtly, a bitterness touched his tone. “You would be like a queen. None of this dirty work.”

“Maybe I like dirty work.”

“What if we squandered this opportunity,” Alister continued, a heightened twist in his voice. “What if Homo augmentus was bred out of existence, the gene pool diluted by sapiens. It’s unthinkable.”

“Worse things have happened,” Clara said. “Humanity would survive.”

“In what state? Mongrels?” Alister’s face grew stern. “The imperative of our mission demands we surrender individuality.”

“In English?”

“What if you did not have a choice?”

Clara stopped pacing. Her eyes flickered over the man, scanning him for weapons. He was unarmed, but there was no telling what Augmented abilities he possessed. Behind him, in the dark of the lorry, Andy stood suspended in the calibration chamber unaware of the world around him. This was not the time for conflict, with Andy unconscious, and Alister knew that. That is why he had chosen this opportunity to harass her, while she was isolated and vulnerable. It would be a tactical choice for her to back down, submit somewhat, but that’s precisely why she couldn’t do it. If she gave an inch, Alister would take a mile. Rather than fold, Clara raised the stakes, resting her hand on the grip of her sidearm. She didn’t know if the calibration chamber was made from bulletproof glass, but she might be about to find out.

Alister faltered, staring at her, arms at his side. Beside him, the techie was oblivious, scowling at the AMC’s terminal. Clara took a slow breath, poised on the edge of striking, observing each moment as though it contained a lifetime of information. A warmth spread throughout her chest, throbbing in her injured shoulder. Static energy shot through her body, lighting up her nervous system, sputtering out of her fingertips as tiny blue sparks. She recited her Augmentation’s abilities. A Teslatic Burst could reach Alister from here, but the technician would be caught in the electrical energy too. And what if it damaged the AMC, caused the procedure to abort and hurt Andy? It was risky, and her pistol was more familiar.

Alister licked his lips “I’m joking.” He swung down from the lorry and joined her. “It is your choice, I am sure you will make the correct decision eventually. Let me put the Golden City coordinates into your terminal.”

“That’s alright.” Clara took her hand off her pistol, but contained the teslatic energy in her palm.

“I am not forcing you to come. It is better if you have options.”

“No thank you.”

Alister smiled stubbornly, but his eyes slumped. He laughed softly. “It is easy to find anyway. When the sun shines, follow the glow.”

Clara didn’t respond. She wore the awkwardness of their conversation like a shield. She’d had a bad feeling about Alister since the day they’d met at Haven Inn, and now she knew why. He was a manipulator and a supremacist. He did mental gymnastics to rephrase his primal desires as some sort of grand and noble quest to better humanity. Clara was just a resource to him, no matter if she was Augmented–the superior species–she was still just a woman, breedable. One step above Homo sapiens, one step below him.

“Why don’t you arrange our payment?” Clara said. “You don’t need to be here do you?”

Alister hesitated, his eyes swam in hers. “Of course. I will return, my lady.”

Clara grimaced at the my lady, but transformed it into a smile while Alister was looking. As he left, she returned her attention to the AMC’s chamber. Andy’s head was bowed, long black hair curtaining his face. “How much longer?” Clara asked the technician.

She ignored her until Clara climbed into the lorry and nudged her.

The technician didn’t take her eyes off her monitor as she answered. “He should be finished by now.”

“It always takes him a while.”

“This isn’t his first time though?”

“No, tenth or so.”

The techie scowled at the monitor. “Weird.”

Clara tried to decipher what was being displayed. One tab possessed a 3D model of Andy’s DNA, however, many of the adjoining text boxes were blank or contained error messages. “What’s weird?”

“It’s not reading right.” The technician turned away from the screen, fixing Clara with a frown. “Is your partner… He’s human, right?”

The question was so unusual, it took Clara a moment to respond. If there was something corrupted about their readings, then that was good news to her, so long as Andy’s calibration process wasn’t interrupted. The less information the New Patricians had on them, the better. “He’s human.”

“Software doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Homo augmentus,” Clara said, imitating Alister’s lofty way of speaking. “A new super-breed of evolved dickheads.”

The techie ignored Clara’s attempt at humour, reabsorbed in her console’s display. Clara had the sudden impulse to smash the computer monitor and pull the woman away–she was invading Andy’s privacy–but restrained herself. Afterall, it was her turn to calibrate next.

Almost an hour passed by the time Andy lifted his head and pushed the hair from his face. Moving slowly, he excited the chamber and towelled himself down, shoulders sunken, face a gloom.

“Are you okay?” Clara asked.

Andy grunted, struggling with the leg of his black jeans. Clara had the urge to help him dress, but knew it would only hurt his ego.

“Keep an eye out,” she whispered, undressing beside him. “Alister might pull something. Don’t trust them.”

Andy grunted again, fastening his belt. Touching the handle of his revolver, he sighed with relief. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he seemed to take a moment for himself. Opening them again, the spark of alertness had returned to his green iris. “I don’t know the meaning of the word.”