Intended Extinction (22 page)

I took my stance at the back of the room. I remembered what they had told me. Focus. Tuck. Eyes open. Breathe. I stared down the wall at the other end of the chamber and took off, leaving trails of fire behind. I bounded across the floor and sent the signal to my brain. I hadn’t completed this one before. This was it.

I brought my arms forward as quick as I could, leapt up into my attempted gainer and tried to throw myself into a spin . . .

My shoulder hit the padded floor and I crumpled to a lumpy heap.

In the distance, I heard startling applause.

Expecting—more like
hoping
—to see Tara standing at the entrance, I looked up from my collapsed state only to find Vane approaching.

“Don’t worry,” he said amiably, “those ones are the hardest, in my opinion.”

I brought myself up and felt embarrassed.

“You still have a month left, Mark. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

My breathing was heavy and my legs couldn’t find the energy to keep me aloft for too much longer. He stepped closer to me and narrowed his eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. Up close, Vane looked older, gaunter and yet just as intimidating.

Before I spoke, I noticed a tiny crease in his hairline. “Just training,” I stammered through wheezes.

“No, you’re not.” He waltzed around me, peering at my red skin and multiple bruises. “Vexin really worked you, didn’t he?”

I tried to collect myself. I felt drained now that he was here.

“Why are you really here, Mark?”

I looked at the floor, wondering if it would be worth it to say anything. If I kept quiet, he would think something was wrong.

“I’m not really sure. Something’s just—er—gotten into me.” I started to walk back to the entrance. I picked up my chest piece just as Vane hit me with a searing dart.

“It’s Tara, isn’t it?”

The words echoed and found resonance in my bones. I gripped the collar of my chest piece and turned to face him.

“That’s the real reason?” He stepped closer, delving deep into my mind.

It was quiet for at least a minute. His perceptions of my emotions were even greater than my own.

I blurted out my thoughts, unsuccessfully keeping them at bay. “I just feel like we haven’t spent much time together.”

He thought for a moment, his gaze locked onto mine. But there were no words of comfort to follow.

“You’re improving, Mark,” he said. “Maybe it’s best not to tamper with that.”

I didn’t reply. What was he saying? Was I to forfeit my relationship with Tara for the sake of Genesis? Or did he mean I shouldn’t worry about it? Either way, I didn’t appreciate it. Granted, I was focused and working extremely hard, but couldn’t I have my cake and eat it, too? Tara meant a lot to me, and I wasn’t about to let this get in the way. For the first time, Vane had become an annoyance.

He paced the floor, lifting his head in a contemplative way. “Have you ever heard of the great philosopher, Ayn Rand, Mark?”

The name sounded familiar, but I didn’t bother to rack my brain. “No,” I said blankly. He was about to begin one of his “lectures.”

“Shame,” he said, pacing back. “She was most well known for her theory of objectivism and a few classic novels. Anyways, Rand once said, ‘The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.’ You need to understand, Mark, that you can do anything in this world. What you’re doing now is a direct slap to the face to every disparaging thought or negative person you’ve met in your life. There is no authority big enough to have claim over your own story. Even if it is your own mind.”

I didn’t know what to say. Usually during one of his monologues, Dodge would have some kind of witty comment. But when Vane tried to inspire me alone, it felt creepy. I think I was just annoyed.

“Just remember, Mark,” he continued, stepping forward, “we’re all entitled to creating our own destiny. Those who try to deny us that right—GenoTec—are the ones who lose that entitlement and should be destroyed. You are entitled to create yourself. And no one is allowed to stop you.”

The strange advice seemed to float through me. I didn’t understand. I remembered where I had heard that philosopher’s name. The only books stocked in Quarter’s bookshelf were ones authored by Rand. He must have had some strange obsession with her.

We exited The Break together, talking along the way. Better fighting techniques, overcoming mental blocks—things I wasn’t necessarily interested in at the moment. He left me for Celia as we passed through Central, and I headed into Quarter.

The near scalding water from my shower felt nothing short of heavenly. After cleaning myself, I entered the Quarter’s VitaCab, an MRI-like machine that helped the body recover from exterior, and some interior, damage. Located in a small annex in between dormitories, the VitaCab used invasive mechanics and biological agents to cleanse, repair, and strengthen the body’s regeneration process. Lying upon the vibrating surface always made me feel sleepy as the dousing, warm procedure healed my broken frame. In a matter of minutes, I could exit the annex feeling like a million bucks.

However, my body had started to develop little side-effects from using the ‘Cab too much. I would start shaking randomly, or feel a rush of energy run through my body, making me feel dizzy. I told myself the benefits outweighed the negative aspects, though.

Tara, Justin, or Vexin weren’t anywhere to be found in Quarter, so I spent dinner alone, finishing up some left over oatmeal from a few days ago. As I ingested the slimy mess, I noticed Bollis’ tablet lying on the other end of the table.

I quietly initiated the device and started to surf the web. Most pre-Edge sites were still active, they just hadn’t been updated in years. GenoTec provided the electricity from centralized locations like Manhattan or Miami, using turbines manned by Volunteers. In turn, networks could be powered and maintained. However, the only updated sites were ones ran by GenoTec, and a few from various hackers and authorized citizens.

I jumped into a GenoTec site and began catching up on some details. After only a few minutes, the Quarter doors opened and Justin waddled in, looking thoughtful.

“I was wondering if everyone had left me,” I said, glued to the screen. He crossed behind me and dove into the fridge.

“I. Be. Is. Helping Cel Cel,” he said like a robot.

“Did she get mad again?” I asked.

Since Justin had proven his proficiency in electronics and computer jargon, Celia often became frustrated when the boy tried to help.

Justin shrugged it off. “Bah,” he said, “she cray! I’m too
smooth
to be hated.”

He took a seat next to me and began to chow down on some leftovers. While I scrolled over a bunch of miscellaneous crap, he spoke through mouthfuls.

“Dude. Ha’ you seen Pwimawy waitwee?”

“Dude,” I mimicked. “Swallow your food.”

He choked down the biggest chunk of gristle I had ever seen.

“Have you
seen
Vane’s room? Like, eh-vah?”

“Vane’s room?” I looked up from the tablet. “Why are you asking about that?”

He started making a castle with his mashed potatoes and said, “I just neh-vah seen inside.”

“You know, he
is
cooped up in there a lot.”

“Yeh’see dat’s what I be playin’ at, home-slice skillet.”

His random voices and impersonations were just a part of everyday living. I wasn’t really bothered by it anymore. I expected it.

“You should sneak in and see what’s inside.”

His head lifted in realization. “That’s it, Marky. . .”

I smirked. I would pay him to try.

“I’m gonna do it, Mark-tot.” He stood upon his chair. “And I’mma find me sum tresha!”

“You do that. Let me know how it goes, okay?”

Justin was coping pretty well with the whole Underbed experience. He had already been living alone for a month in Neurolics, so it wasn’t too new. He just had a group of people to annoy now, instead of a small virtual intelligence named Jones. As far as training went, Vane forbade any sort of extensive stuff for the boy. Simone was out of the question, and sparring—well, who would want to spar with him? He was eleven. Plus he might have gone for the groin, or poked out our eyes. Justin familiarized himself with a few weapons, but nothing too extreme. In fact, the spaz didn’t really want to explore his talents outside of the computer room. I was kind of glad, but Celia groaned every time Justin came romping up Central’s pedestal stairs. Still, she knew he could be valuable. It was a love-hate thing.

After Justin and I had a nice round of banter, I decided to relieve Celia of Justin duty and replaced him in Central. The night was a bit boring, working with numbers and strange sentences. Deciphering codes was extremely challenging. Our main project at the moment was the surveillance cameras, littered throughout the Jersey City building, and the Manhattan Branch. Once we had joint control, it would allow us to move like insects, crawling right beside the enemy, undetected. The huge problem was the intense code maze. Each section of the Jersey City building had different sets of cameras, all with unique codes and systems. There were firewalls, anti-hacker protocols, and a whole slew of advanced security protocols in place, renewed every other week. It was exhausting.

“So tell me about you and Dodge,” I asked, filtering through pages of irrelevant code.

“I knew that was your plan from the start, Wenton,” she said, adjusting her glasses.

We were spaced out on either end of the pedestal, working on separate sections of the Jersey City building. Her relationship with Dodge was the cause of many of our conversations. She hated it.

“C’mon!” I prodded. “What’s new? Give me details.”

“Why do you want to know so badly?”

“Because! Romance in the Underbed; there’s nothing like it.”

She smiled and kept working. As we hit another stride of connected dots, something crackled from behind her.

“Cel!” said a distant Dodge. “You there?”

She swiveled around and pulled up a map onto one of the big screens.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Um,” he hesitated, “we might have a bit of a problem.”

Celia fiddled with a few more controls, while Vane emerged from Primary. I had a feeling the boss was completely wired into every communication, because his response time was always uncanny.

“What’s the problem, Dodge?” asked Vane, jogging up the steps and staring up at the map, displaying two red dots.

“We just received intel that a Roger . . . Celement is running the operation to snuff Genesis.” He then spoke to Bollis in a low tone. “Did I say that right?”

“Celement?” repeated Vane.

Celia and I were stuck to the screen.

“Isn’t he—he’s bad news right?” asked Dodge.

Was Dodge chomping on food? What were those two doing up there?

Vane didn’t answer for a moment. He paced back and forth, his head bowed.

“Hello?” said Dodge, raising his voice over a gust of rattling wind.

“Yes,” said Vane finally, “yes, he is bad news.”

“We could try to take him out while we’re up here—”

“No, no,” answered Vane. “Just come back. If Celement is on our tail, then we don’t have much time left.”

“You got it, boss,” said Dodge, disconnecting from the server.

“Who’s Celement?” I asked.

Vane looked up at me with those cold, inhumanly black eyes, and said, “One of Repik’s toads. A bounty hunter. He’ll never stop until he finishes a project. He’s going to find us. We’ve got to get moving.”

He began to delegate some things to Celia, and I approached again.

“What do you mean, ‘get moving?’ ”

“I know I told you two months, Mark,” he said, sparking fear in my chest, “but our objective begins now.” He looked up into the ceiling and told Aiya that there would be a debriefing tomorrow morning. Everyone was to meet in Primary at eight o’ clock sharp.

It was really happening.

I couldn’t
sleep
that night. Every time I tried to close my eyes, little hands would rip them back. It almost burned to keep my lids closed for more than ten seconds. I was scared. I was skittish. I was so unsure about the future that I could have screamed.

I got up, took my Adrenoprene pills, and scuffled into the bathroom. I threw water on my face and looked at the changed man standing before me. My black eye was healing from yesterday. My lips were chapped. I flexed in the mirror, feeling my muscles ache with each strain. That was a good sign. It meant the VitaCab had worked. I cupped more water and doused my head again. As the droplets of warm liquid rolled off my nose and cheeks, I felt disconnected from my body for the first time as a member of Genesis.

I sat on the toilet seat and sighed. I needed to recuperate. I couldn’t self-destruct now. This was the moment I had been training for. A full month of grueling exercises and bone breaking growth had been spent for this. Behind all of the lies I had created, I knew the reason I was feeling so out of focus was because of one freaking girl.

The Underbed had driven us apart. I hated to admit it. I felt like she was accepting the wedge, though. I, on the other hand, was stuck to stand in the same emotional stance since the beginning. I was scared I was going to lose an opportunity to discuss my feelings with her.

The Underbed may have corrupted my internal destiny, but I was still Mark Wenton, the confused, contemplative cynic. I was determined to straighten things out before it was too late.

I showered and got ready, cinching my Undersuit harder than before. The air escaped my lungs as I clamped down my chest piece. I stretched before exiting my chamber, noticing the clock on my interface module. 4:43
am.

I trotted out of the dormitories, passing the giant mirror, and made my way for some “Medi-B”, as we called it. Medi-B was a form of forced homeostasis contained within tiny, liquid pods. It was required the day after using the VitaCab. Without taking the substance, the healing that occurred within the ‘Cab wouldn’t last. Essentially, Medi-B was the sealing agent.

As I followed the curve of the hallway, I noticed the kitchen light was ablaze. I crept up to the wall, hearing hushed voices. I got as close as I could and crouched.

“Can’t we just skip this stupid Vista mission?” said Dodge. “I mean, is it really going to help?”

Dodge? When did they get back?

“Of course it will,” snapped Celia. “Axxiol is responsible for half of Jersey City’s security. Without—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I just—you guys saw the video. It’s not something I
really
want to deal with. Especially with this Celement dude tracking us.”

“Well, we need to do it,” Celia concluded. “You need to stop letting your feelings get in the way, Dodge.”

“Well,
excuse me
,” he retaliated. Then he started teasing her and making her feel uncomfortable. “This body’s all I got, babe. If anything happens to it . . .”

I could only imagine what actions he was doing.

“Stop it,” she said, annoyed.

Then I heard Bollis’ gruff voice cut the air. “If we stay together,” he said, “things will work out. We’ve just got to keep our minds focused.”

Celia sighed and muttered, “Celement’s really ruined everything.”

“Bollis is right, I guess” said Dodge, calming down. “Vane knows this guy, too. He can get us through it.” He started rummaging through a bag of chips.

“Do you think Mark and Tara are ready?” asked Celia.

Every word was magnified in my ears.

“They’ve done exceptionally well,” said Bollis. “I would be more confident if they got the full two months, though.”

“That’s just how our lives are, dude,” said Dodge. “Unfair, risky, stressful. I’ve got no problems with them. Have you
seen
Tara’s targets lately?”

“They’re good. They really are good,” added Bollis. “We need to watch them, though. Regardless of their progress here, they still haven’t been out there.”

“I guess it really doesn’t matter, does it?” said Celia. “If Celement is coming, there’s nothing we can do. It’s probably better for them this way anyways.”

There was a long pause.

“What about Justin?” asked Dodge.

“He’s been more useful than I expected,” said Bollis. “But I imagine he’ll have to stay with you, Celia. Through all of this.”

“I figured as much,” she replied, not too excited.

They finished their conversation and left to Central, instead of rounding the corner to find me. Once they were out of earshot, I carefully stepped into the kitchen. I noticed Bollis’ tablet on the table. The screen was alight with a recently played video. I checked to listen for any oncoming voices or footsteps. I tapped “play.”

The camera was showing a large room similar to Central, sitting in tranquility, untouched. At fifteen seconds in, a torrential banging shook the camera on its hinge. Sparks started to fly. From one of the corners, a piece of metal burst open. More sparks issued from the hole. Then out of nowhere, ocean water started to gush into the room, dropping two dark figures, obscured by the flow. The camera started shorting out. Something moved in the rising water. Through the choppy video, an object poked above the depths. A terrifying, vibrating screech filled the chamber. Then the audio cut out and the video stopped.

It was the last known footage of the Corrupt Vista.