Unremembered: Undiscovered Part 10

I opened my mouth to disagree but quickly decided against it. There was no use arguing with her. She was right. And wrong at the same time. That was exactly who I used to be. Someone who was afraid of his own emotions, like a coward afraid of his own shadow. Someone who fought so hard to hide from anything that felt real.

But I wasn't that person anymore.

I had found something to fight for. I had found something to feel for.

I had found Seraphina.

But obviously Xaria didn't know about that. Couldn't know about that. The only thing she saw was Lyzender Luman, the boy who had closed himself off to the world. Who found cheap thrills breaking into labs and stealing genetically altered bunny rabbits.

She didn't know the person I had become. The person Seraphina had brought out of me, my layers slowly peeling away until she found something worth loving.

She didn't know Zen.

And as much as I longed to explain it to her, I knew I never would be able to. I knew I had to let her go on thinking that she was right about me.

"I'm sorry," I offered one last time.

She nodded again and pushed the chair back, standing up. "Me too. I'm sorry I ever felt sorry for you. I'm sorry I ever tried to help you." She stormed toward the door of the lab. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

I sat alone in the darkness, the room illuminated only by the monitor that sat before me and the memory cued up on the screen, ready to show me what they stole.

Ready to show me what was worth stealing.

I let Xaria's pain and heartbreak flow through me, cringing at the bitterness it left in my chest. It's the way it has to be, I told myself. If I had any hope of fulfilling my promise to protect Seraphina, there was no other way it could be.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the guilt to sink into me, knowing I would always carry it around wherever I went. But also knowing, with sadness, that it was a price I was all too willing to pay.

Then I opened my eyes and pressed Play.

17: Protocol.

The images that filled the screen were disturbingly surreal. Everything was shown through my own eyes, and yet I was so removed from it, sitting in this cubical, watching it on a screen. It was like playing a virtual simulation game, except I had no control over my avatar. I could only sit back and let it happen.

Unlike real memories, the Revisualization was crisp and vivid, without the hazy filter of time. It played out before me like a movie I'd starred in. In another life. Another world. A forgotten dimension.

I swiped my fingertip across the sensor. It flashed green and the door to the lab clicked open. I glanced around the huge s.p.a.ce filled with screens and processors and complicated equipment I didn't recognize.

The far walls were lined with cages, each one housing a small white mouse. Several were dead.

I started to move toward the helpless animals, gaining speed and intensity with each step.

On the wall next to each cage, a monitor indicated the status of some kind of experiment. I chose the closest one and studied the lines of text.

Project White Flower.

Subject: 341.

Latest update: Failed to transesse two minutes forward. Gene malfunctioning. Expected termination within four hours.

I turned my attention to the poor, helpless mouse. "Sorry, little guy," I said aloud to the empty lab. "You don't have much time left."

His nose wiggled in response, as if he understood.

I glanced at some of the other screens. All of them had similar status reports. "Failed to transesse two minutes forward."

I hit Pause on the monitor.

Failed to transesse.

What did that mean?

Transesse wasn't a word I was familiar with.

And Project White Flower? I'd never even heard of that. Which meant it was at least a C7, possibly higher.

I pressed Play.

A sound echoed in the empty lab and I spun around.

A custodial droid glided into the room, her creepy human top and wheeled-machine bottom made me shudder.

She spotted me. Her head tilted curiously to the side, processing. I shut my eyes tight, knowing she would be attempting to scan them. I turned around and slid a NanoStrip onto my eyeball, blinking it into place.

When I spun back toward the droid, she continued to stare at me, her creepy dead eyes unblinking. After a moment, she seemed satisfied that I was supposed to be there and went about her work, tidying up the lab. A sweeper protruded from the back of her wheeled base, brus.h.i.+ng up dust and debris as she went.

I waited until she had disappeared out the door before popping out the retina strip, tears blurring my vision. I blinked rapidly then turned back to the mouse. The one who had less than four hours to live. I carefully eased open his cage, captured him in my hand, and lowered him into the pocket of my sweats.h.i.+rt.

I inched to the left and began to open the next cage, but a voice stopped me.

I ducked behind a tower of machines and waited, listening.

Two scientists in white lab coats had entered the room-a woman and a man. They were sipping coffee out of SynthoPlastic cups from the commissary. It was obvious from their relaxed body language and easy speech that they hadn't seen me.

"I'm telling you, the woman is nuts," the female scientist a.s.serted.

"I don't know," the man admitted. "I mean, if it works, it'll be pretty amazing."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me Dr. Maxxer has gotten to you, too. This whole place has gone spastic. I mean, time travel? Seriously? What does she think this is? An H.G. Wells novel?"

I hit Pause, my breathing starting to quicken.

Time travel?

Project White Flower is about traveling through time?

Is that what the status updates were referring to when they said Failed to transesse two minutes forward?

Curious and slightly nauseated, I pressed Play.

"I'm willing to buy in to Dr. Maxxer's theory that it's possible," the man said.

The woman set her coffee down on a table and swiped her fingertip across one of the nearby screens. It glowed to life. "Well, it's not like she would ever tell us if she was right. Dr. Alixter would be the first to know. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if we're sent to the Memory Coders the second this project is finished."

Just then my attention was snagged by a white blur. I looked down and noticed that the mouse had climbed loose from my sweats.h.i.+rt pocket and was scurrying toward the scientists. I dove forward to catch him, my hands closing around his small body. I scrambled to push myself back up but slipped, knocking my chin on the ground.

Stars danced in my vision.

When I looked up, both of the scientists were standing over me. An alarm started to blare through the room. I jostled to my feet, returning the mouse to my pocket, and made a dash for the exit. They didn't bother to follow me.

They knew it wasn't their job.

They also knew Director Raze and his security team would be here any second.

And they were right.

I'd barely made it into the desert air when I was surrounded. Agents closed in from all sides.

I pulled the mouse from my pocket and crouched down to set him on the ground. If I was going to be captured, at least he could be free.

He took two steps before stiffening and collapsing onto his side.

Dead.

Tears instantly welled in my eyes as the agents approached. A Modifier flashed in my vision, and then the world faded to black.

I was about to hit Stop when suddenly I heard voices.

I swiveled around in my chair, searching for the source, convinced I was about to experience a strange dej vu from my stolen memory. But then I realized the voices were coming from the Revisualization monitor.

Through the blackness of my semiconsciousness.

That's when I noticed the time code on the file. There were still three minutes left.

I tilted my head toward the darkened screen, listening.

Two people were arguing. The clarity of their words was compromised by my nearly comatose state, but I recognized the first voice as my mother. The second voice took a moment longer. Because I hadn't actually heard it in over a year.

A chill settled into my spine when I finally realized who was speaking.

It was my father.

"There's nothing I can do!" my mom insisted. "The protocols are in place for a reason. I can't just rewrite Diotech laws."

"He's only a kid," my dad whispered back, anger souring his words.

"Who broke into a C9 laboratory."

"I've heard what these memory wipes can do to the brain."

"They're perfectly safe," my mom argued.

My dad grunted. "You can stop this. You choose not to."

"That's not true! I have no power here."

"Talk to Alixter. Reason with him. Or ask Havin to step in and make an exception. He's just as much in control around here as Alixter. Besides, you two have gotten awfully chummy lately."

My mom's breathing was suddenly labored. She was trying to control her temper. "Don't start with that again. My relations.h.i.+p with Dr. Rio is completely professional."

My dad ignored this. "If you let this happen, you're siding with them over me. You're choosing this place over your family."

"I'm sorry you see it that way." My mom's voice was tight. She didn't sound sorry in the slightest.

There was a long, angry silence. "If you won't do this for our son, then I'm leaving. For good this time."

"Don't give me ultimatums!" my mom screamed. "I told you, I don't have a choice! I can't stop this."

"You can," my dad insisted with audible sadness. "You just won't."

My mom sighed. I heard heavy footsteps echoing down a hallway, getting farther and farther away.

"Initiate protocol," my mother called to someone.

Then everything went deathly silent.

18: Enough.

I didn't expect to find anything under the bench the next afternoon. After our failed escape a few days ago, I was pretty convinced they would be wiping her memories nightly. Which was why the small tangle of twigs that had been fas.h.i.+oned into an eternal knot, half buried in the dirt made my heart swell with relief and joy.