Unchanged (41 page)

Seemingly
protected
by an invisible, all-powerful entity.

If I list the evidence I have, the truth is
almost
obvious.

The Providence is real.

They are out there. They are watching. They are maneuvering us like pieces on a chessboard.

But I still don't know for certain. I still have never seen them with my own eyes. Never heard their voices with my own ears. All I've witnessed is the destruction others claim was left behind by their hands.

If this organization is as secretive, as unknowable, and as powerful as Dr. Maxxer says it is, then I may never have the ultimate proof that it exists.

It's something I have to choose to
believe
.

Or not.

Dr. Maxxer died trying to track down the Providence. Trying to destroy them. But how do you destroy an enemy you can't see? How do you defeat a monster that has the ability to hide in plain sight?

The answer is you don't. You can't.

The only thing you can hope to do is take away its power. Take away its fuel. Figure out what it feeds on and obliterate it.

Then maybe it will die in the very place it's been hiding.

*   *   *

When I open my eyes, I see my own face. It's staring back at me from a large ReflectoGlass. At first, I don't recognize it. The eyes are too old. The mouth is too stern. The posture is too upright.

But there's really no mistaking that it's me.

Behind me is a rackful of dresses and pantsuits. A wall of dazzling custom-cut and nanostitched fabrics. In front of me, on a long tabletop, is a collection of beauty enhancers. Creamy skin ointments, nanoconcealers, and vivid eye tints.

I am inside a dressing room.

It belongs to the woman who is sitting in the nearby chair, reading a Slate.

She startles when she sees me. As I expected. I'm not sure she'll ever understand how I magically appeared in front of her without ever touching the door.

“Sera,” she says, recognizing me immediately. “What are you doing here?”

I step toward her, keeping my shoulders back and my confidence high. “I want to go back on the Feed. Today. Right now.”

She laughs like this is all a big prank that someone put me up to. “Okay. Do you have more to say about Diotech?”

I don't join in on her laughter even though every single one of my uploads on social etiquette tells me it's the appropriate thing to do. “Yes, Mosima.” I pronounce her name with purpose. With conviction. “I have a
lot
more to say about Diotech.”

 

71

LIGHT

“We're live in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6…” Seres's accented voice slips into my ear as the hovercams whiz above my head. Right now they're all pointed at Mosima, who has promised to introduce me. Soon, they will be turned to me. They will be feedcasting my face to the nation. They will be transmitting my story.

My
true
story.

Not the one Diotech made up to fool the nation. Not the one Dane softened and polished to help improve my likability. I don't give a flux who likes me anymore. And I have a feeling
no one
will like me after they hear what I have to say.

“5, 4, 3…”

Just like during my previous appearance on the segment, the last two seconds are omitted, but the lamps and cams don't appear to need them. And neither does Mosima. The light directly in front of her flicks on and illuminates her warm, shining face to the world.

“Welcome to
The Morning Beat
on AFC Streamwork, your number one source for breaking news and real-time world updates. I'm Mosima Chan.”

She pauses as the cams navigate around her, finding her from another angle. I wait in the darkness with my heart in my throat.

“We have a special guest this morning. An
unexpected
special guest. You've seen her before. Right here on this stage actually. And you've been seeing her for the past few weeks all over the media. She's here with a special message for our viewers. Please help me welcome back Diotech's own ExGen Sera!”

The hoverlamp that's been waiting patiently before me activates and suddenly I'm in the spotlight. In that very moment I'm struck by how lonely it feels to be here on this stage. Not just because Kaelen and Dr. A aren't with me.

This is a different kind of loneliness.

The kind that runs deep in your veins. That echoes against your bones when you're trying to sleep at night.

The kind you were born with. And will die with.

Even though Seres, once again, warned me not to, I look straight into the hovercam that settles in front of me as Mosima launches into the interview.

“I'm glad to see that you're okay, Sera. I read that Diotech headquarters had a little bit of an accident the other day. Something about a faulty foundation causing a building to collapse.”

I continue to look straight into the cam, into the eyes of the viewers, as I utter the first of many disheartening truths. “That was a lie.”

Mosima is completely caught off guard. She coughs slightly. “Excuse me?”

“There was no foundation problem. Diotech was attacked. Many people died. Including several that I loved.”

Out of the corner of my vision, I can see Mosima deliberating on how to proceed. A digital press release was obviously sent out about the collapsed building, and this is a far cry from what was in it.

I'm sure Mosima Chan is used to breaking-news stories, but this won't be like anything she's ever broken before.

She's about to get the exclusive of her life.

“Are you saying Diotech
lied
in their press release about the building?”

Gaze forward. Don't blink. Don't waver.

“Yes. And that's not all they've lied about.”

Another long, pensive pause as Mosima gathers herself and her thoughts. I expect her to ask something thoughtful and profound but all she says is, “Please, go on.”

“The compound was attacked by a group of people led by a woman named Jenza Paddok. This same group of people was also responsible for the unexpected halt in the publicity tour last week. The tour was not cut short, as it was reported, because Dr. Alixter was sick. It was cut short because I was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” Mosima repeats in disbelief.

“Yes. By Jenza Paddok. Jenza, like every single member of her team, was wronged by Diotech. Jenza's son, Manen, along with fifty-one other children, was killed because a drone released a canister of deadly nerve gas in a school playground.”

“You're referring to the incident at Hillview Elementary School a few years back,” Mosima confirms. “I was told the drone collided with a bird, causing it to crash-land in the school playground.”

“That's what everyone was told. It was another lie. Diotech had developed a new variation of the nerve gas. But before they could sell it to the military, it had to be tested on a myriad of life-forms—plants, dogs, lizards, adults, children. That drone was
sent
to that school on purpose.”

Mosima leans back in her chair. I can't help but notice the skepticism painted on her face. “These are some pretty weighty accusations, Sera. Do you have any proof?”

“Yes. I have the memory files of the Diotech employee who programmed the drone. This particular memory was erased from his mind so he could never reveal the truth and never testify against them. I also have the archived memory files of every high-ranking employee and scientist who ever worked at Diotech.”

I hear a quiet gasp and it takes me a moment to realize it didn't come from Mosima. It came from someone in the control booth. Maybe everyone.

“Well,” Mosima says, sounding slightly winded, “I'm sure we'd all love to get a look at those files. Perhaps Seres can—”

“I'm not finished.”

Mosima blinks wide-eyed at my brazenness but allows me to continue.

“Jenza Paddok and the majority of her team were killed during the attack on the compound, along with several Diotech employees. Jenza is only one of the thousands of people whose lives have been destroyed by this corporation. Mine included.” I lean forward and pin my gaze on the small floating object that hovers so effortlessly before me. I try to imagine the faces of everyone I've ever met and everyone I've ever lost, condensed into that tiny blinking red eye. “But it is my hope, that with your help, she will be the last.”

 

72

UNBLINDED

“In June of 2114 I was created by Diotech Corporation. I was manufactured in a lab to prove the supremacy of science and to show all of you how much better you could be with the help of the genetic modifications that Diotech is scheduled to release over the course of the next year.” I glance at Mosima, then back at the cam. “But you already know all of that. What you don't know is
why
they're doing it.”

I hear a commotion through the speaker Seres placed next to my ear. I peer up at the control booth. Someone—a man in a suit I've never seen before—has burst into the room. Mosima's eyes are darting nervously between him and me.

I focus back on my audience. I wonder how many viewers are watching right now. Five billion? Seven billion? All of them?

“Diotech doesn't want to make you prettier, or stronger, or faster, or more impervious to disease. Diotech wants to control you. You see, inside every genetic enhancement of the ExGen Collection, there will be an untraceable piece of nanotechnology. When triggered, this technology can manipulate your actions and your thoughts. It has the ability to control everything you do and say.”

The man in the suit is shouting at the technicians now. “I have twenty-five angry Diotech lawyers on my Lenses threatening to sue our asses into the ground if we don't shut her down right now!”

“No.” It's Seres's voice that answers him. But he's not in the booth. He's down here on the stage floor with us. “This is your producer speaking,” he yells at the technicians. “I order you to keep this transmission hot.”

I steal a glance at Seres, the bald Eastern European man with the countless swirling nanotats competing for attention on his head. He's no longer watching the stage. His eyes are cast upward, to the booth above. He's fighting back. He's probably risking his job to keep me live.

But it will only be a matter of time before Diotech wins again and my face disappears from people's screens. I have to get through this as calmly and quickly as possible.

My stomach is gurgling, threatening to dispel its contents over this polished stage floor. I take a deep breath and will myself to keep talking. “I know you're probably outraged to hear what I'm telling you. But the truth is, I don't blame Diotech for what they've done to me. And what they're trying to do to you. I blame
you
.” I pause, letting my accusation sink in. “Yes, all of you out there watching. When you trust something so blindly that you don't even question its motives, you give up your power to it.

“Diotech is the most successful corporation in the world. It reigns over everything else. But only because you put your faith in it. You purchase its products and buy into its claims and want so badly to have the things it promises you.

“When Kaelen and I came on this stage two weeks ago and showed you how beautiful you could be, how fast you could run, how sharp your mind could become, you didn't doubt it. You asked how you could get it and how long you'd have to wait. Diotech knew what you wanted and you proved it right. You chose to make it a god. But gods can only survive if you believe in them.”

“If you don't cut this transmission RIGHT THIS GLITCHING SECOND,” the man in the suit bellows in my ear, “I will fire every single one of you!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Seres bounding up the stairs. A moment later he appears through the synthoglass of the booth. An argument commences but I try to block it out as I battle to keep going.

I'm starting to feel woozy. Disoriented. A hundred sights and sounds swirl through my mind at once.

The dying light in Rio's eyes as I held him in the wreckage of the compound.

The rage in Pastor Peder's face as he called me a soulless monster.

The sorrow in Paddok's voice as she whispered a prayer to her departed son in front of the bunker door.

I can feel Mosima next to me. Watching me. Stunned into silence. But still wanting more. I struggle to find my next words. To put order to the chaos that's reigning in my head. To transform muddled emotions into syllables.

When I speak again, my voice has softened. Almost to the point of breaking.

“A very brave woman once told me, ‘We all need to believe in something. It gives us a reason to get up in the morning. Something to fight for.' I never believed in much. I always thought it would make me weaker. I was told science had the answer to all my questions, and therefore, I didn't need to ask any. I was given thoughts to think and truths to memorize. I was brainwashed by Diotech, too.”

Up in the booth, both Seres and the man in the suit are screaming into opposite ears of the poor technician whose shaking hands are poised precariously over the control panel.

I close my eyes for a brief moment. Somewhere out there, Kaelen is watching. And Dr. A and Director Raze and maybe even Zen. As I pull the last ounce of strength from the depths of myself, I try to forget everyone else. I speak only to them.

“Belief doesn't have to make us weaker, though. It can make us stronger. But there has to be a middle ground. At some point, we have to think for ourselves. At some point, we have to believe in what we already know and ignore the rest. Faith is only evil if it's used to control you. But it doesn't have to. It can enlighten you, too.”

“For the glitching love of Christ!” I hear the booming voice in my ear. I glance up just in time to see the man in the suit launch his body toward the control panel, knocking the technician out of his chair. Seres lunges after him, trying to pull him away. But it's too late. The man's hand must reach its designated target because just then every light in the studio dies and I am returned to the darkness.