Chapter One: Prologue – Tia

 “The first time I saw a super human was during the 2044 Summer Olympics.” 

The weekend had been like any other.  Pen’s folks had gone away again, and she’d invited a few of her best friends over to hang.  I let Austin drive me, because tonight I wanted to get tipsy – at the very least.  Austin, or Az as I affectionately called him, wasn’t just the truest friend anyone could ask for, he was also my safety net.  He’d be sure to get me home and let nothing bad happen; he’d even protect me from myself.  It was Saturday, so we could stay all night; I’d told my father that I was sleeping over at a friend’s.  But by one a.m., most of the guests had cleared out – wimps. 

Pen was cleaning with Miko.  I had tried to help but was ordered away, so I was sitting with Az at the kitchen table.  Loora sat with us, along with a few of the other guests that didn’t know when their welcome had been worn out.

“The Olympics?” Daniel stared at me. I think he was a little further gone than I felt.  He smiled, his dry lips looking in danger of cracking.  “You watch the Olympics?”

“I did.” My voice was quieter as I tried to suppress the emotions that went with that simple statement.

Austin gazed at me with worry, but asked casually, “So, who was the super human?”

I smiled, touched by his concern, and avoided the look in his eyes by answering, “Reginald Doe.”

“You think he was ‘super’ human?  I thought he was just a talented human.”

“Oh, come on... Every event he competed in, he took home the gold!”

“I heard there was quite a bit of debate surrounding that,” Daniel put in.

“Yes, there was...” I nodded, feeling my equilibrium wobble with the movement – maybe the last drink hadn’t been such a good idea.  I checked Austin in my peripheral vision, which was hard to do, being this drunk, but I knew if I needed him, he’d have my back.  I continued talking, trying to act normal. “First, he was a late entry.  A complete unknown – a nobody who took the place of the former gold medallist that had died just months before the games opened.”

Daniel added, “Didn’t his trainer say he stumbled across Reginald at his local gym?”

Again I nodded, forgetting how it threw me off balance. “That’s right, his trainer: J.R. Edgewater - he claimed it was a certified miracle!”

“But Reginald underwent extensive drug and enhancement testing.  He was clean,” Austin argued.

“Clean as far as they knew.” I paused for dramatic emphasis, or perhaps to regain my train of thought... “But Edgewater pulled every string he had to get Reginald into the games.  And on top of that, Reginald was allowed to compete in more events than any one participant has ever been allowed to enter before.”

“Still doesn’t prove he was ‘super’ human,” Austin objected.

I crossed my arms. “He won, didn’t he?  He was in thirty-eight out of the forty-six events for athletics, and he took home gold for every one.  That’s thirty-eight wins – that’s got to be super human.”

I might have felt more smug if I didn’t need to lean so heavily on the back of the chair to keep myself upright.

“But that still doesn’t prove...”

I cut Austin off. “Reginald Doe was named Athlete of the Year...”

“Of the millennia, really,” Daniel interjected.

“That’s right...” I nodded yet again and had to pause while the room stopped spinning. “But then he disappeared!”

“Didn’t his manager demand a worldwide search that came up empty?” Daniel was enjoying the conversation; he’d moved his chair closer to me.  His unblinking gaze unnerved me.

I looked on my other side toward Austin. “It doesn’t make sense any other way... Reginald refused to sign contracts with companies like Nike and Kellogg’s, though he was being pursued by all the top name brands to sell their products.  He could have been a billionaire eight times over.  Instead, he did one teensy TV interview for some small budget news company and then became a recluse.  He lived at some obscure address where people would see him come and go for a few months – then poof, he was gone.”

“But that still doesn’t make him a ‘super’ human.” Austin stared me down.

I shrugged. “You think what you want – I’ll think what I do.”

Az smiled. “Do you think it’s time to go home?” His eyebrow rose as if in challenge.

“Probably,” I admitted.  The last drink I’d had was still setting in, and if I didn’t leave soon, I wouldn’t be able to walk without assistance.  Then I’d have to stay the night, which was something I was trying to avoid.

Miko escorted me to Austin’s car. “You sure you can get her home, Austin?”

“Don’t worry Miko. I’ve got it covered.” Az flashed his winning smile.  Really, he had become quite the looker now that he’d let his blond hair grow back – it suited his baby blue eyes better – but sometimes I missed the more dangerous-sounding him.  In the past, he wouldn’t have been so mild mannered with Miko.  Probably better this way - no more write-ups or disciplinary school for my friend.

Miko still seemed troubled. “What if she needs a hand getting into her house?  You can’t carry her without breaking the law.”

Austin’s smile stayed in place. “Technically I can, if it’s for medical purposes...but don’t worry, I won’t cross any boundaries.”

“You gonna get her sister to help then?  Samara might blab about Tia being drunk.  Her sister can be a bit of a tattle tale,” Miko persisted.

“You worry too much, Miko.  It’ll be fine,” Az said as he started up his hover car.

Miko looked at me. “You sure you don’t want to sleep over here?  I know Pen wouldn’t mind, she’s got an extra sofa.  It could be like a slumber party.” I could see the hope in her soft brown eyes.

“Na,” I said, shaking my head – then I had to swallow down the queasiness.  “I’ve got something to do tomorrow...  I mean later today.” I stifled the foolish giggle I felt slipping up my throat.  “I’ll see you on Monday.”

She agreed and stepped away from the car so that Austin could take off.  I closed my eyes.

The car slowed as Az pulled into our building’s garage after what felt like only a few minutes, but Austin left the motor running, so the buckle was still locked.

“T?” I looked over to see his eyes boring into me.  “We’re alone now.  You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

I opened my mouth and burped, then hiccupped.

He continued to stare.

Slowly, the feeling I had been trying to keep down all night crept over me.  “I remember 2044 for a different reason.”

He popped the car into park and slid over the seat next to me.  He gathered me into his arms as the first of the tears started to slide down my cheeks.

“I miss my mom,” I moaned.

I felt him nod and place a kiss on the top of my head.

“I was only fourteen.” My words came out in that strange staccato way they do when you are crying so hard that you can barely breathe.

“It wasn’t fair,” Az agreed.

That’s what I liked about him; he didn’t try to convince me that I was lucky to have survived at one in a thousand odds; he didn’t point out all the cool things I could do now that the disease had altered me; and he didn’t tell me that today was supposed to be a joyful day.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he whispered into my hair.

I wasn’t worried – I never worried when I was with Austin. 

I cried, like I did every year, and he held me, like he had from the moment I’d gotten home from the hospital.  Breaking all the rules, just like he always did, and risking a return to that horrid disciplinary school, all for the sake of me.  He was the best friend I could ever ask for.

As the tears ran out, he added, “Happy birthday, T.”

I didn’t feel like going home – Father wasn’t expecting me until Sunday afternoon anyway.  I let Az carry me to his house, and it was only after he’d placed me on his bed that I opened my eyes – yup, that last drink had been a very big mistake.  A mistake I’d now made three years in a row.  Austin brought me water and a bucket for ‘just in case.’ I shuddered at the thought, but this year I was luckier than the two previous.

“Talk to me,” I begged as he sat next to me and rubbed my back.

“What about.”

“Anything.”

“How ’bout Daniel.”

I groaned.

“Tia, he still likes you.”

“And...” My body had stiffened against Az’s hand.  It had been two years since we’d had a dating contract – one of my bigger regrets.

“And nothing.” I heard the smile in his voice.

“What about Loora?  She likes you, you know.” I turned a little to look at him but shut my eyes against the spinning room.

“I noticed.” I could hear the displeasure in his voice.

“So?  What’s wrong with her?”

“Na, she’s got too many piercings.”

“Two eyebrow rings isn’t much.”

“Don’t forget the one above her lip.  So three, but you know me, T; I don’t go for girls with that look.”

I sighed. “I guess it is a little turn of the century – I’ve heard that look might be coming back in.”

Az scoffed. “You’d think everyone would think twice about it.  I mean, all you have to do is talk to your grandparents and see the effects of the tats and piercings in your sixties, and you’ll have a good reason not to do such silliness.”

He made me laugh.  Then silence set in.  I opened my eyes and looked up into his face. “But how come you haven’t dated anyone?”

He shrugged.

“You know Loora isn’t the only girl who’s interested in you.”

“No one meets my high standards.” He brushed back my hair.

“Well she’s out there, waiting.” I smiled and closed my eyes.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered softly.

I wished they had been, and after a Saturday like that, I didn’t expect anything good to come of the Sunday that followed.

Chapter Two: Prologue – Teig

Personal Log: May 2049

I am good at my job.  The best.  I should be... I’ve been doing it for almost a decade, that’s longer than most.  They used to say it was because I was the boss’s son.  That wasn’t it at all!  No.  No one understands how hard it is to be the boss’s son.  My secret is simple: no attachments - no complications.  It is just a job, best to get in and get it done.  It makes it easier to move on...and we are always moving on.  It makes it easier to stay detached when things don’t go well.  No matter how much ARM claims that they are reducing the risks, they still don’t have good odds.  I don’t know...maybe I’m getting soft?  Maybe I’m getting lonely...eight years of no attachments is a long and lonely existence.

I did try the alternative, and that wasn’t any better...  I had thought it worked when I was younger, naïve, and idealistic.  When I believed that what I was doing was for the better good.  The good of us all.  It was my parents’ dream, their vision, and I would have followed and trusted in them until the end of time.  I was completely blind.  Stupid.  Then it all changed.  Can’t go back...no matter how hard I wish it.  What happens now that I’m not so sure of this whole program?  This is where having my mother as my boss makes my life harder.  What if I don’t believe her words: “Son, everyone knows, to be a good chef you have to break a few eggs.  No one cries over the eggs when they are enjoying the cake...”

Too bad one of the eggs had to be my father.  True to her character, Mom never faltered in her belief about what we were doing – of the cake we were creating.  She spoke at his funeral like he was a veteran of war.  Decorated, celebrated for his sacrifice to the project.  Yet his sacrifice would never be known to anyone but those of us in the project.  That was the worst – his sacrifice was considered such a great act by my mother, to those in the project, to the whole stinking company.  So if it was so great, how come no one could talk about it? 

That’s when I had a crisis of faith.  Because that’s what it had become, my faith – no, my religion.  My cult.  I had been brainwashed to believe in it.  Losing my father helped me to discover that, and after that I wasn’t so sure of it.  My true feelings didn’t mirror my mother’s perfect vision.  But what good did recognizing it do?  I couldn’t go back – now I hated what I had to do.

It didn’t matter, though, they wouldn’t let me stop.  I couldn’t get out.  I was in, in for life, maybe longer?  I didn’t have anyone whom I could confide in.  My mother was the boss.  My only friends were all stuck in it too.  There was no one left for me.  Nothing I could do.  And everyone riding my ass about being the boss’s son, like that somehow made my life easier...  Doesn’t matter.  Wouldn’t have mattered even if I had an army of family or friends outside.  I was in, and once someone was in, the only way out was in a body bag.

So, I did my job and stopped thinking as much as my brain would allow me.  No attachments – no complications...  Not as easy as I try to make it.  The heart gets involved.  The brain, my brain, can’t overlook those things I try to make it.   All the eggs that break in the process; eggs I broke by doing my job.  I did have the lowest mortality rate – I wasn’t so quick to pick my candidates.  I always did my homework.  I tried.  I try.  I continue to try harder with each...

Personal Log: Saturday May 22, 2049

I got my new assignment this morning.  Barely back from the last – one day home.  Now I have orders for Monday, two days away.  I’m getting too old to keep doing this...and I had made plans for this Sunday!  Cancelled, of course, by ARM...how I despised my life! 

Clay Winston High School, I remember the first time I worked it, seems like another life time...  Of course, I have worked it twice now. It seems odd that they put me back there so soon.  I thought I’d have another year before they sent me there again... I wonder how much it has changed since I was last there.  I don’t expect much – school buildings don’t usually change in three years.  But I’ve changed, so much I hardly recognized myself anymore.

I looked at my face in the mirror, still foreign to me.  Too young, too perfect for my life; I ought to have wrinkle lines from the permanent scowl I wore.  But I had to look appealing, since it made my job easier.  If I looked like a brooding, crotchety old man, I’d never make it onto the school grounds.  I hated this face!  It didn’t respond the way it should.  I tried to frown, yup, there it was, another way to control me.  The layer of fat above my brows had been thickened to smooth out my worry lines, giving my forehead more texture and making my eyes look like they were set deeper into my skull.  My top lip was pulled back further now, making my pale lips more pronounced, paler and thinner than they used to be, before this all started. 

I had taught myself not to notice my eyes, even though they noticed everything now.  I still hated those unnatural irises.

My cheeks looked like someone had chiselled away all my fat...that was almost the truth of what had been done.  They had taken the original shape, and any defining blubber I had left, and sucked it right away.  It felt like they’d sucked out all the innocence I had left.  I missed the fat. Now my cheeks always felt cold.  They also felt brittle and breakable.

At least I had my original hair back.  I had to go too long without my natural curls and was glad that the twittery teen-driven fashion industry had decided that they were back in style.   I got to have black hair, because my profile said I hadn’t been seen in it for long enough.  Another reason to be happier - at least I didn’t have to go through the monthly regimen of bleaching it. The smell made me choke and gag.

I dreaded to think of what they’d change once I was done with this assignment...

Trying to hold onto my sanity, I reminded myself that I was due for a vacation...that was if nothing got in the way.  I mean, what were the chances of another disaster happening that they needed my help for?  It had been three years in a row.  Mom promised I’d get my holiday this time.  I didn’t put any stock in Mom’s promises, but I had to hope...I was already going a little crazy.

I thumbed through the chart.  Clay Winston High had a student body of 7037. With that kind of attendance, I should be done in four months. Counting holidays, it should take me to the end of September, mid-October at the latest.  I was glad they had switched all schools to the yearlong calendar; it made my job easier. 

Then my vacation - three months off.  That was my driving force now.  A vacation by the ocean, I’d decided.  Somewhere that was warm and sunny and had room service, maids and staff to wait on my every want...and it would be warm. My cheeks would appreciate that.  I kept posters tacked up all around my room.  I had a screen saver with tropical paradise on it.  I could do this.  I could do this, then get my long-deserved vacation.

I took a deep breath.  Being home sucked.  Seeing my mom was even worse. How I hated her face... How I envied her that she got to keep it. 

I had enjoyed my last two years overseas.  It had happened so suddenly...yes, I was finished my last assignment, and all my recruits had passed the initiation.  Whoever doubted my skill would have to eat their words again.  But I had thought I had one or two more years in those other districts.  The call had come late on Wednesday night; I was on the plane Thursday. 

That had been another of the downsides of getting ordered home so quickly – being put on the same flight as my recruits.  It hadn’t helped with my motto: no attachments... I never remembered their names.  I didn’t like to recall them by their chart numbers. It was a bigger truth that I didn’t want to be a part of.  I only called them by the number they represented to me.  Two hundred and thirty-three.  That was her number. Once I found her, I had now condemned two hundred and thirty-three kids to a life in the company...

She had spent the whole flight jabbering my ear off, she was so excited.  I shook my head, trying to wash away the memory of her: her sweet voice; her hazel eyes, scared (though she was trying to hide it); her wavy brown hair bouncing around her face as she nodded vigorously.  I’d been the one who found her.  I’d convinced not only her, but her whole family, a mother and father... and a little brother – they would all miss her.  I’d pretended to be her friend...just doing my job.

The message of her failure flashed bright across the screen.  No matter how many times I saw these announcements, I still mourned.  That she had been my pick made the pain cut deeper.  They hailed her a brave soldier lost in the battle that we waged to better our world.  I just kept thinking about her face, round, kind, trusting...  I shook my head again.  I could hear my mother’s greetings as we deplaned in our own private hanger.

It was appropriate that she stayed businesslike, no matter what the circumstance.  I was one of the first off, and she met me at the tarmac, barely giving a nod.  “Teigan,” she’d said.  I could have been any one of her employees.  That I was her son, that we shared DNA, meant nothing to her.  It was loyalty that mattered most.  I was her least loyal, and she made it clear that she knew this. Maybe it was my relationship with her that kept her from pulling the plug on me.  Some days I wished she’d just do it and get this wretched life over with.

She turned to the volunteers then and addressed them, giving her cheery introduction to the program and a rundown of what to expect over the next few months.  I tried not to notice that they’d brought home one hundred and eighteen.  I tried not to realize that I’d personally discovered the most out of the eleven other recruiters on this mission.  Tried but failed.  I also tried not to see that over two thirds were girls.  Young girls who were giving up their lives for our cause, promises that they’d eventually discover to be false.  Eventually - but not today.  Today every face was filled with hope and excitement, the thrill of being discovered.

I ducked out.  I’d heard it all before. I’d said most of it myself at one time or other.  Besides, it was all lies anyway.  I knew their lives would be nothing but pain until they’d adjusted.  Perhaps not as severe as my own. I’d been told that part had improved...but painful nonetheless.  That would be if they didn’t die first.  I gave a shudder, slamming my laptop shut.

Tomorrow I’d be moving out of the bunker - that was good.  I really hated being so close to the project.  That was the nice thing about this job.  At least for a few moments each day, I could pretend I was normal, just pretend.  There was absolutely nothing normal about me.