“That must have been a Grand Photia…” Malin whispered, her mouth hanging open.
She hadn’t really expected the conflict to escalate that much. And, although the curiosity to know what that monster computer had to say gnawed at her inside, she moved away from her partner and went to guard the entrance door; the enemy, be it the Cyclops or the military, could be ready to arrive.
Juzo also turned.
“No,” she stopped him. “You focus on that Totem and get what you have to get out of there as soon as possible.”
With the pressure of the moment on his head and the blood pounding in his temple, Juzo returned to the computer screen and, trying to forget the danger ahead, focused on what it said.
> PROJECT TIMELINE:
>
> — GENETIC ASSIMILATION THERAPY (GAT)
>
> Status: Completed satisfactorily.
>
> Last entry of the Totem: Log GAT.95988.
>
> — BINARY PROTEIN PROJECT (BPP)
>
> Status: Cancelled.
>
> Last entry of the Totem: Log BPP.765.
>
> — BINARY ATAVISTIC PROJECT (BAP)
>
> Status: Cancelled.
>
> Last Totem Entry: Log BAP.8005.
>
> — BROGA.
>
> Status: Active.
>
> Last Totem Entry: Log BROGA.35
>
> —BRUN.
>
> Status: Active.
>
> Last Totem Entry: Log BRUN.445
It was a list of the projects stored in the machine’s secret memory, and next to each name, a flashing light script inviting him to press it. There were the answers. He was going to go for the first one, the only one of the projects that had been completed—and satisfactorily, according to what it said there—but he didn’t know how much time he had before the enemy knocked on the door, it was better to get down to business.
In the rush, he almost pushed the second title, not the third; both were very similar. Then he remembered that, according to the printouts in his backpack, the project he had been a part of was the Atavistic, the second ‘Binary’ class project. He supposed the Binary Protein had been experimenting on the twins before them, the babies who hadn’t survived that Primary Plasma the records mentioned, so he pressed the third dash.
A new and very extensive list was displayed in front of him. It didn’t take long for him to recognize what they were: the same logs of the files, from BAP.0001 onwards. BAP.0002, BAP.0003, BAP.0004… He entered the first one and read it. The first disappointment. The log was uncensored, however, only listed as project director: Dr. T. Perhaps, later on, Rigel could shed some light on who Dr. T. could be or have been. ‘Recording...’ continued to flicker in the lens of his monocle. He only hoped to get out of there alive to have the opportunity to deliver the recording to the detective.
He went to the second log, then jumped to the fifth, and from there to the seventh. There were many and time was pressing.
Three-dimensional images of him and his twin appeared, full-bodied and nude, portraying them through the years as he progressed through the records. Images that, due to their sharpness and detail, could well have been recreated using photographs of them. There were also data ranging from height and weight to biometric measurements and the heart condition of each one, as well as endless incomprehensible codes.
As the information passed through, his eyes grew wider and wider. He went to the last entry, BAP.8005, the resignation letter written by Dr. T., the project director. He read it and the sensation of his blood pounding in his chest was so intense that his breathing became heavier and heavier.
He needed to remove the doubt. He pressed the light button at the top of the screen that said BACK, and entered the previous project, the Protein Binary.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
He wanted to stop time to review each piece of information carefully, to assimilate what he was reading, to give his brain time to not only understand what he was seeing, but to accept it, but there was no time. He could hear the combat in the dome, just behind those walls, and he knew that at any moment it could all end.
His teeth gnashed. His jaw clenched so tightly that even Malin heard it from across the room.
“What does it say?” she asked. How bad what that Totem said could be for someone as stoic as Juzo to have such a reaction. She wanted to run to her friend and see it for herself, but she held her spot.
Juzo ignored his partner and pressed the light button that read COMPLETION. There he recognized a text that he had also already read in the files, which talked about the reunion of the twins.
> …The mobilization, according to the director’s order, has been programmed for the date: Maiden 2, year 585 of the Imperialist era.
Although the Totem had a bit more information to offer and, following that text, a string of simple illustrations reminiscent of instruction manuals followed. His throat was so dry that he had a hard time swallowing. What he saw now was exactly that, the instructions to follow to complete the circuit of the Project.
Then a small hatch was revealed in the panel, next to the monitor, and out of it protruded a cylindrical metal object the size and thickness of a cigar. The Totem was offering it to him. He recognized what it was thanks to the illustrations, but he didn’t take it; doing so would have been accepting his fate.
With a trembling hand, he continued his hasty investigation. He left the Binary Atavistic Project and entered the next directory: the project called BROGA, which was still active. A three-dimensional image of the A60-R8 Cyclops was portrayed on the screen, along with the list of corresponding entries. Fists clenched, sweat running down his cheeks, Juzo poked at them, one by one, just to confirm what he suspected.
“What does it say!?” Malin insisted from afar. “Juzo! What—?!”
An abrupt silence caused a huge void. The fight behind the gate was over.
----------------------------------------
The echo announced footsteps coming that way, and nervousness bit Malin’s stomach.
“I hope you’re done there...” she told his friend. She put her arms down, tensing her muscles, and stretched out her hands, preparing to draw what she had to defend herself. Her fingers contracted and sparkling threads of light wove spheres of pure energy around them.
The experience she had gone through to become a Grenadier had been horrible and she did not like to remember it, but the phrase, ‘Every cloud has a silver lining’ fitted this situation perfectly. Had it not been for that, she would now have nothing but bare fists to defend herself with; and it was easier to lose a weapon to a blow than to lose your hands, right? Although, she feared she would need much more than Photias to face what was coming.
Her former comrades were dead on the other side of the wall; she knew it, and that pride of belonging that started boiling inside of her made her hate the android hard. Oddly enough, Malin felt that in addition to defending Juzo, she must avenge the soldiers.
When the door opened, she fired one of her Photias straight into A60’s face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “No androids allowed in here.”
----------------------------------------
Standing in front of the Totem, Juzo looked over his shoulder at his opponent. Broga. And beyond what he had just learned, for a second, he had the illusion that Broga would recognize him somehow and that the confrontation would be over before it began. But when Broga advanced as if they were part of the enemy, worry marked his face.
That everything would go wrong, and they would end up just like the scientists in that operating room or the geology students in that cave, dismembered and unrecognizable, had gone from being a mere possibility to an inescapable fact.
No. There was still hope. Broga was visibly damaged and bleeding oil; had he had the intent and ability to blow them up with an electromagnetic bomb, he would have done so by now. Good, that allowed him to finish what he had started.
He didn’t want to let Malin fight alone, but there was no other choice for now. He took one last look at the enemy, handed over guarding the rear to his friend, hoping she didn’t suffer the same fate as the Imperial squadron, and returned his focus to the Totem.
There was no time left to review the latest and still active project, the one that said BRUN. He had already learned enough, though. The secret console had already revealed its greatest treasure, and it was at his fingertips. He gulped, and hoping he was doing the right thing, reached for the cylinder that had emerged from the dash hatch.
But when he removed it, the data on the screen disappeared, giving rise to a series of intermittent purple and reddish flashes that blinked in a pattern, as if it were a Morse code message. When he realized what was happening, it was too late; his eyes had not only already captured the message, but had fallen prisoners of it.
The screen stopped flickering and went dark.
Juzo put the metal cylinder in his jacket pocket, pointed his gun at the Totem console that held so much information, and with a blaster shot, blew it to pieces.
The giant computer was left with a smoking hole in the center.
It wasn’t until the blackened remains of the destroyed board broke away from the rest of the Totem and fell to the floor like an excised appendage that Juzo realized what he had just done. Why the hell had he done it? Had the fury aroused by discovering that secret blinded him that much? On second thought, perhaps it was better this way; with the board destroyed, no one else would have access to that information. Besides—
He took a step back, but his legs lost so much strength that they nearly left him on the ground. A dizziness had just shaken him, a strange tingling that ran from his head to his feet several times. It was as if his entire body had collapsed, leaving his soul still standing, waiting for it to fade into the air, having nothing solid to cling to.
The sensation lasted a few seconds, eternal seconds; until it stopped. His eyes were heavy, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep, and he blinked rapidly to get rid of that veil that clouded his mind.
There, a moan called him to look back. Malin was engaged in combat against Broga.