The Lost Code (27 page)

I didn’t answer him.

“I mean, the skull just will not talk to anyone else. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“I know,” I said, thinking of the CITs strapped to those tables. “I saw.”

“Ah yes,” said Paul, “because you were in the lab. And so now we both know that this skull is only for you, am I right?”

Hearing him, I realized that maybe there was a chance here. . . . “Yeah, only me. I’m the only one.”

“Yes,” said Paul, like this was exciting him to his core. “And has it told you where to find it?”

“Find what?”

“The Brocha,” said Paul.

I tried to remember if Lük had mentioned that, but I was pretty sure he hadn’t.

“Ah, so your skull didn’t tell you about that,” said Paul. “I’m talking about the Brocha de Dioses. Well, that’s what
we
call it. It’s Spanish, from a priest’s translation of an ancient Mayan codex. I’m sure the Atlanteans would have a different name for it.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Well . . . that’s the mystery,” said Paul, “the big one. Brocha de Dioses means Paintbrush of the Gods. That was the priest’s translation anyway. It’s been very hard to piece together, but we believe it’s a machine, an ancient machine, one that could, well, save us all. And it’s located in the Heart of the Terra.”

Lük had talked about that. And, listening to this, I remembered what he’d said:
Someone has found our sin, and seeks to use it.
Maybe
this
was what I was being called to defend. To protect this Paintbrush of the Gods from Paul and Project Elysium.

“What do you mean, save us?” I asked.

“It’s fascinating, really,” said Paul, and it sounded like he really was fascinated, “and we can get into it more once we start the journey, but the Atlanteans found a way to control the forces of the earth, to literally change it to suit their needs. Their civilization was global and very advanced, in some ways not quite to the level of ours, but in others vastly superior.

“About ten thousand years ago, they were facing a climate change event, something like the Great Rise, which isn’t that uncommon if you look over a long enough record of history. But the Atlanteans were the first living creatures on earth with the intelligence to do something about it. They were facing a dramatic warming period, and, also like us, these were a people who lived primarily on the coasts, since they were master seafarers.”

I realized that this was the first thing I knew that he didn’t. Paul didn’t know about the airships. He probably thought that craft here in the temple was a boat. Which meant he didn’t know exactly what I was meant for, either.

“They were watching their cities submerge,” Paul continued. “So, to save themselves, they fought back. They created this Paintbrush of the Gods, and they used it.”

“But it didn’t work,” I added, remembering the ash-filled sky in Lük’s world.

Paul smiled, like I was his star pupil. I couldn’t help being interested in what he was saying, in the story of my people, and there was something intriguing about all this knowledge that Paul had. How much more could he teach me? But then I looked over at Leech. He was still out cold, his face pained even in unconsciousness, and I had to remind myself that he was Paul’s last star student.

“It might be more accurate to say that it worked too well,” said Paul. “Based on the evidence we’ve found, the Paintbrush of the Gods caused a cataclysm so great that it became the basis for all those flood myths around the world.

“The Atlantean civilization collapsed, and the greatest technology the world had known until this millennium was lost to ice and ruin. And yet . . .” Paul spread his arms. “Here we are, on the verge of discovering it once again. Only this time, think of it, Owen: we can apply our modern technology to the Atlantean model, and succeed where they failed. Do you see what I’m saying? We can
fix
the earth. We can save humanity.”

He smiled at me so wide, eyes sparking, that I could feel the infectiousness of his enthusiasm, like a virus that could get inside me, change me, but I fought to hold it back.

“Don’t you want that, too?” Paul said to me. “Think of your father, your life out there at Hub. Think of all the people suffering outside the Habitable Zone.” He glanced at Lilly as he said this. He must have known about her parents. “The diseases, the malnutrition. All those who have died. Even those living in the Edens. I’m sure you know that the domes won’t last forever. In fact, there’s precious little time left. Our species is at a crossroads. We can die out, or we can persevere.”

I stood there. I didn’t know what to say. Did I want that? Maybe. Lük had said that trying to use the power of the Terra had destroyed their civilization. That I was supposed to protect it and keep that from happening again. But Lük couldn’t know about modern times. If Paul was right, and this Paintbrush could be improved . . . I thought of my dad, the nebulizer, his coughing, only getting worse the more time he spent underground. What did Lilly think? I wanted to ask her.

As if giving me her answer, Lilly suddenly hissed at Paul, “You killed Anna!”

Paul frowned at her. “Actually, I heard from Cartier that
you
killed her when you pulled the plug on her life-support system.”

“How could you do that to her? To those other children?” Lilly spat. I could hear her anger raising the pitch of her voice, could feel her shaking beside me.

Paul shrugged. “They were necessary sacrifices in the pursuit of knowledge,” he said coldly. “We had to understand the mechanism of the gill growth. Had to understand what other changes were happening inside. We knew that Anna and the others weren’t
the one
, and we had no idea when, if ever, our Owen would appear, so I decided to enlist their help as trial cases—”

“She wasn’t a
trial
!” Lilly shouted. “She would never have agreed to let you do that to her!”

Paul winced and made a motion to Cartier, who grabbed Lilly, putting a gloved hand over her mouth.

“Lilly, dear, you remind me of my
father
with your small-minded belief in some moral code. He was a founder in EdenCorp. Finding Atlantis was his thing, but when we discovered the existence of the Paintbrush of the Gods, and the board of directors asked him to lead the search for it, he refused. He said it was wrong to tamper with the earth, to muddle with nature. He thought that we should listen to the ancient warnings. When, the truth is, everything we
do
tampers with the earth. We are part of nature, its crowning achievement. We
are
nature.”

Paul stepped close to Lilly, his electric eyes reflecting in her own. “Do you know, my father
refused
to open the antechamber we’d discovered in Greenland, the one where his evidence pointed to the Paintbrush being located? All that knowledge, right
there
, and he wouldn’t do it, because he thought it was too dangerous. He was
scared
. So you know who did it? His son. I went into the temple and opened the antechamber myself and came face-to-face with a Sentinel and lost my eyes. And that’s when the board of directors knew I was the one who should lead the search. Because I would do what was necessary.

“Like with your friend Anna. By the way, a lovely girl, full of life—too much life, it turned out. She
hated
what was happening to all of you. So she came to me and wanted to know if there was anything she could do to help figure out what was going on. It was nice of her to offer, I thought.”

Lilly surged free of Cartier’s hold. “She didn’t know you were going to do
that
to her!” Her eyes were watering, her voice thick with rage. Cartier grabbed her again.

Paul turned away from her. “Probably not.” He looked back at me. “But what’s one life when billions are at stake? And Owen, you don’t have to worry, I’m not going to cut you open or any such primitive thing. I want to
follow
you. I want you to say you’ll help me, say we’ll do this together. And then we can start our journey, to find the Terra, the heart of Atlantis. We need to stop letting
nature
do whatever it wants and
be
nature. Please. Don’t you want to do the right thing here and save the human race?” His mouth turned down in a strange way, like he was trying to look like he cared, and yet his mechanical eyes were still boring into me, as if he was trying to see through my skin to the Atlantean inside.

And I
did
want to save humanity from the Great Rise, be the savior of our species. I did want better lives for everyone, my dad, even me.

“You’ll be a hero,” Paul added.

I felt the energy draining out of me. And I wondered: Paul was making this sound like a choice, but was it? I couldn’t really say no to Paul, could I? Wouldn’t he just force me to do what he wanted anyway? Though Lilly would never agree, it seemed like there was really only one answer. If I said yes, if I worked with Paul, I could keep us both safe. And as we figured out what the Paintbrush of the Gods really was, then we could decide what to do. Saying yes would buy me time. Buy us time. But what if the chance never came? What if I provided Paul with information, and it was all he needed to get to Atlantis and that was that?

“How do I know I can trust you?” I asked.

Paul smiled. “Fair question. Here’s the answer: because I’ve never lied to you.”

“Mmmm!” Lilly thrashed her head free of Cartier’s grip for just long enough to shout, “This whole place is a lie!”

Paul sighed. “Technically, it’s more like a distraction, to allow the discovery of a greater truth.” Paul looked at me again. “You’ll find, in the big game, that sometimes this has to be the case. But it doesn’t change the fact that I never lied to you directly. And you have my word, Owen, if you say yes, I will keep you informed, protected, and well taken care of from now on.”

I thought back, and he was right. He’d never lied, not to me, not directly. But the story about Colleen, and the camp as a whole . . . The lies were everywhere else.

“Well, Owen?” asked Paul. He put his hands out toward me, palms up. “Time to choose.”

Owen.

The siren had appeared. She floated on the far side of the room, behind Paul. I glanced at Lilly. She was staring at me with wide eyes.

I looked back at the siren. She gazed at me, intently.
You must be true to the Terra.

What does that mean?
I thought to her.

Qi-An is always two. All states occur in pairs. To know truth is to know both.

To know both sides?

To see both.

I didn’t know what she meant. What two sides? Was this about the choice to work with Paul or not? About Lük telling me to stop Project Elysium, and Paul asking me to help it? So, me saying yes, or me saying no . . . Or maybe this was about Paul. About seeing both sides of him. Because I knew what I’d see if I said yes. He’d treat me like his new favorite son, and I’d use the skull and tell him everything. And as terrible as it sounded, part of me actually craved that. I really believed that Paul would protect me if I was his most valuable asset. And I could even understand his rationale for the gruesome things we’d seen in the lab, how he saw it as hard science in the quest to save the planet. And yet . . .

What was the other side of Paul? Had I really seen it? Could I trust him? Did he really have such noble goals? He wouldn’t tell me, and I couldn’t make him, but I could say no, and see how he reacted.

And maybe more than that, there was Lük, my . . . brother? Telling me not to help this man. Telling me that I needed to do the opposite. It was what Lilly wanted, too. What did I want?

I wanted to be true. I wanted to see truth.

Yes
, said the siren, and I thought I saw approval in her eyes. Looking at her right then, I suddenly wondered something else. Because Lük had never talked about her. . . .
Who are you?
I asked her.

She disappeared.

Paul’s hands were still out in that helpless gesture. Had even a second passed? It felt like it, and I thought about what I’d say.
Yes
was a deal with the devil, but also safety, at least for a while.
No
was . . . what? The only thing I was sure of was that it was truth.

“Well,” I said, “I think my answer is no.” And then I watched.

Watched Paul’s eyes flicker at me, the pupils getting smaller. Watched him sigh and shake his head slowly. Watched his expression turn hard. His gaze left me, like I was no longer important. He looked at the officers beside me and made a slow single nod.

They grabbed me by the arms and moved me toward the skull.

“Hook him up,” said Paul with a wave of his hand, and just like that, I had become another object, a test subject.

“No!” I shouted again. I struggled, but it was no use. Each officer had me by an arm, and they moved my hands toward the skull. The white-coated technician appeared and started attaching electrodes to my forehead. I thrashed my head, but he grabbed me by the chin and held me firm.

I’d said no, and seen the truth: that there really was no choice, after all. No was really yes. But at least by saying no, I had been true to myself, true to the kids who died. True to Lilly.

“Administer the sedative,” said Paul. “Let’s bring in the board. They’ll want to see this.” He turned to the wall, where a video screen hung dark. He touched the corner and it illuminated. A message blinked:

[
ESTABLISHING LOW-ORBIT CONNECTION
]

And then a room appeared, the camera at the far end of a desk, and the seven gray-haired heads of the EdenCorp board of directors all leaned forward.