The Individuality Gene Page 11

  She doesn’t hesitate. Diving between the robot’s legs, she scrambles to her feet and makes a run for the exit. A ball of sizzling energy whistles past her ear and slams into a nearby clone. Shielding herself from the resulting human shrapnel, she dives for cover just as a second energy sphere speeds past her. Now safe, she focuses all of her energy on running. It’s not until a third glowing orb flies past that she’s forced to change tactics once more. Veering to the left, she drops to the ground and slides beneath the nearby row of fattened clones. Moments later, she’s back on her feet.

  Finding the exit is hard, but not as hard as losing her pursuer. Glancing over her shoulder, she spots the robot barrelling toward her at full speed. She ducks an incoming sphere and keeps running. The next time she looks, a second robot has joined the first. Two more energy balls blast past her. By the time she finally reaches the exit, nearly half a dozen robots are in hot pursuit.

  Kara bursts from the fattening warehouse. Ignoring the cloning machines, she dives for cover and, crouching to stay out of sight, makes her way toward the exit. It takes a while, but she finally reaches it. No sooner has she done so than her pursuers catch sight of her.

  Kara bursts through the doors as yellow energy lights up the wall around her. Working her legs like they’ve never been worked before, she high-tails it down the narrow corridor, reaching an intersection just as her pursuers start shooting again. What follows is a frenzied race for survival as she wanders the maze of rooms and corridors that make up the underground facility. It takes forever, but she finally manages to lose her pursuers. Or so she thinks until she turns a corner and comes face to face with a robot.

  “Oh, come on!” she groans. She stares at the glowing palm and waits for the blast of energy and the accompanying loss of consciousness, but it never comes. Then the palm grows dark, and the robot topples forward. She stares at it for a while before noticing the shape standing behind it.

  It’s an alien.

  They stare at each other for a while before Kara decides to speak.

  “Why did you save me?” she asks.

  The Kra’lor doesn’t answer. It merely raises its hand, revealing the familiar yellow glow.

  Drowned! thinks Kara. I’m about to get shot.

  Memory 22

  J onn’s plan failed. The tip of the pickaxe hovers mere centimetres from the robot’s skull, useless. A powerful hand encircles my friend’s wrist, keeping him trapped.

  He glances at me. I shrug.

  Releasing the pickaxe with his trapped hand, he tries to free it from its metallic prison, but the robot’s grasp is too powerful. Changing tactics, he attacks the automaton with his free hand.

  The pickaxe never reaches its destination. Moments before the tip makes contact with the robot’s head, its free arm shoots out and knocks the improvised weapon from Jonn’s hand. It clatters to the ground with a dull thud.

  Jonn and I exchange another glance, but the look of worry that fills his eyes soon turns to pain when the robot flicks its wrist.

  “AAAAAHHH!” he bellows as his arm takes on an unnatural angle. I can’t tell if it’s broken or twisted. It doesn’t matter.

  The torture lasts but a few moments. The grey-haired soldier crumbles as soon as he’s released and whimpers softly as he holds his injured arm. I never thought I’d see such a thing, but I even badasses like Jonn have their limits.

  The robot aims its palm at my friend, and a glowing orb appears. It grows brighter and brighter until I can’t stand to look at it. I look away, but that doesn’t mean I give up. I scan my surroundings, but the nearest pickaxe is metres away. There’s no way I can reach it in time to help Jonn. Acting on instinct, I grab a stone fragment and throw it at the robot. It bounces off harmlessly, but it’s enough to distract the automaton.

  Its head pivots and its dead eyes focus on me. For a brief moment, I fear the ball of energy that was meant for my friend will be propelled in my direction, but the robot’s gaze remains on me for brief seconds before returning to Jonn.

  I grab another rock and take aim. I’m just about to throw it when the three remaining members of our team take action for the first time since the start of the altercation. Working as one, they attack me. It happens so quickly I don’t have time to defend myself. One second I’m trying to save my friend; the next I’m being pinned by two short but powerful men while the third pries the rock from my hand.

  I’m confused until I notice the rock is, in fact, the crystal I unearthed. That explains why the men attacked me—they wanted to preserve the ‘tal’s integrity. But why do they care so much about a dumb crystal? It’s not like they will get to keep it. But I forget all about that when a sizzling sound reaches my ears.

  I focus on Jonn just as the ball of energy slams into him. Yellow light envelops him, and he begins to convulse. The trembling lasts a few moments, then the glow fades, and Jonn grows still.

  Is he unconscious? Is he dead? I can’t tell, and honestly, I don’t really care. Seeing him lying there, unmoving, is all the motivation I need to convince me to take action.

  Pushing the short men aside, I scramble to my feet and rush toward the robot. I scoop up the pickaxe and swing it. The metallic man tries to block the attack, but it’s too slow. Its arm barely has time to move before the tip of the pickaxe slams into the side of its head. I expect the weapon to burrow deep into the automaton’s skull, but it bounces off. By the time I realize my mistake, it’s already too late.

  The robot knocks the pickaxe from my hands. It flies through the air, slams into the nearby wall, and falls to the floor. Now defenceless, I watch, petrified, as the robot advances.

  I fear I will join Jonn in whatever fate befell him, but the robot merely shoves me aside, heads toward the three men who cower in a corner of the tunnel, and snatches the ‘tal from their hands. Tearing the gelatinous pouch that protects it, it reaches into it and retrieves the crystal.

  Nothing happens for a few seconds, then the robot’s now barely glowing chest splinters like a stone wall under the pressure of water. The resulting metallic fragments come to life and slide outward. The hole widens until half of the being’s chest is missing. That’s when I notice it.

  A ‘tal lies within the robot’s chest. Unlike the one in its hand, the crystal is nearly extinct. The brilliant radiance that once accompanied it is gone. In its place stands a soft glow that barely lights up the automaton’s inner workings.

  I watch, stunned, as the robot reaches into its chest and removes the crystal. Discarding it, it replaces it with the new ‘tal. Immediately, the circuits, gears, and pistons that make up the being’s insides start glowing. The luminescence grows in intensity until I can’t bear to look. I avert my gaze, now barely able to see. By the time my vision returns, the robot’s chest is back to normal. Even its eyes are glowing.

  The sight reminds me of something R’ha once told me. ‘Tals are a potent source of energy. Clearly, that was an understatement. But I forget all about that when the robot aims its hand at me. I don’t understand what’s happening until the palm starts glowing.

  I’m about to get shot.

  Reconstructed Memory 4

  I ’m about to get shot, thinks Kara as she stares at the glowing palm. The alien that owns it seems indifferent to the young woman’s fear. It takes careful aim and fires.

  Kara prepares herself for an evasive maneuver as the glowing orb soars toward her. She’s about to dive out of the way when she realizes something.

  The Kar’lor missed.

  The shot soars past Kara with an arm’s length to spare.

  That’s odd, she thinks, but she forgets all about it when she hears the sound of metal hitting stone. She turns to find a robot. It lies before her, inert. Its eyes and chest have stopped glowing.

  “What…” begins Kara, but her voice trails off when she realizes what happened. The alien didn’t miss. It was trying to shoot the robot. Just like it shot the first robot that attacked her.

  “Thank you
,” says Kara. “You saved my life.”

  It was nothing, says the alien, speaking directly into Kara’s mind. The voice is soft, feminine. We can’t stay here, she continues. Follow me.

  She turns and walks off. Kara hesitates for a moment before following.

  “Where are we going?” she asks.

  Somewhere safe.

  “Why did you help me?”

  You needed help.

  “What—” begins Kara, but the alien cuts her off.

  Stop talking. We can’t afford to be discovered.

  Kara still has many questions, but she doesn’t insist. They progress in silence for a while before running into another robot. The alien shoots but misses. Luckily, the blast of energy hits the ceiling, and the robot vanishes in a cloud of dust and shrapnel. It’s not enough to incapacitate it, but it distracts it long enough for Kara and her guide to dive into a nearby room.

  Silence fills the air for a moment before the sound of footsteps reaches them. Kara waits for the door to fly open and the robot to burst into their hiding spot, but the automaton runs past, and the sound of its footsteps grows fainter until they can no longer be heard.

  We’re safe, says the alien.

  Kara breathes a sigh of relief and takes a moment to study her new surroundings. She and the Kra’lor are in what appears to be a storage closet. Barely big enough to stand in, it’s filled with an assortment of cleaning supplies. Some look familiar. Others are foreign.

  Kara waits until her breath returns to normal before asking the many questions that plague her.

  “Why did you help me?”

  I already told you. You were in peril, so I helped.

  “Aren’t aliens—”

  Kra’lors.

  “Sorry. Aren’t Kra’lors the ones who enslaved the humans? Aren’t they the ones who created the robots?”

  Kara’s questions are more than mere inquiries. They’re meant to test her theory regarding the global events leading to the enslavement of the human race.

  The alien sighs.

  It’s true, she says. We enslaved the humans, but that doesn’t make us evil. The actions of a few don’t reflect the beliefs of all.

  “What does that mean?”

  Not all Kra’lors agree with the way the humans are being treated. Some of us try to help. I do what I can to aid the humans. So did my father.

  “Did? What happened to him?”

  The alien’s shoulders slump.

  He died.

  “I’m sorry. I know how difficult it can be to lose a parent.”

  It wasn’t easy, admits the alien. His passing impacted me greatly. It made me who I am today.

  “When did he pass away?”

  Five hundred years ago. I was but a child.

  Kara’s eyes grow wide.

  “How old are you?”

  Age is irrelevant to Kra’lors. We don’t age as long as we have an abundant source of energy to keep us strong.

  Kara takes a moment to assimilate this new piece of information.

  “What was your father’s name?” she asks.

  The alien hesitates for a moment before answering.

  “R’ha.”

  A heavy silence follows the revelation.

  “A-A’lara?” stutters Kara.

  The alien frowns.

  How do you know my name?

  Kara hesitates. How can she claim to have known R’ha when half a millennium has passed, and she hasn’t aged a day? Not to mention the fact that she has yet to determine whether or not she can trust A’lara. Sure, she’s R’ha’s daughter, but familial bonds only go so far. After all, didn’t Kara’s uncle try to kill her?

  “It was just a lucky guess,” she lies, choosing to play it safe. Once she confirms A’lara allegiance, she can revisit the whole time travel thing. “Why did you save me? How did you save me? Can all Kra’lors shoot energy from their hands?”

  A’lara chuckles silently.

  It’s a weapon, she says, revealing her right hand. At first glance, it appears normal, but further scrutiny reveals it’s, in fact, a glove. The strange weapon is coated in small scales, which explains why Kara failed to notice it until now. Given what Will told her about R’ha’s shimmering ability, it’s safe to assume the glove’s scales vibrate whenever the wearer shimmers, allowing both to vanish.

  “It’s an impressive weapon,” admits Kara, “but it doesn’t explain why you saved me. And don’t pretend that you were just trying to be helpful. You wouldn’t have been armed unless you were trying to protect me.”

  It’s a long story, says A’lara.

  “I’d love to hear it.”

  A’lara hesitates, but nods.

  The story will make no sense unless I explain the history of the past few centuries. I hope you don’t mind.

  Kara can’t help smiling. She couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.

  “Please begin. I’m listening.”

  A little over five hundred years ago, Kra’lors travelled to Earth in search of ros’tal crystals. Do you know what those are?

  Kara nods. “They’re your primary source of nourishment, right?”

  They are much more than that. ‘Tals power our cities and our ships. Our society wouldn’t exist without them. But ros’tal crystals are rare. We came to Earth in search of them. The inhabitants were weak-willed and compliant and agreed to let us mine their planet. At least, that was the official story. In reality, the Ros’tal Corporation—the company in charge of mining—drugged the humans and tricked them into signing the mining treaty. My father tried to stop them, but he was killed before he could succeed. The excavation process began on schedule and, by the time the general population learned the treaty was invalid, it was too late to halt the operation.

  “Why?”

  This planet is riddled with ‘tals, but the greatest concentration was located at its center. In order to extract them, the Ros’tal Corporation had to excavate the center of the Earth. While this made extracting ‘tals easy, it affected the Earth’s delicate balance. Temperatures dropped, and the entire surface froze. Within a few years, the planet turned into a frozen wasteland.

  Kara is mortified. She once believed she and her companions succeeded in stopping Avalon from altering the past, but the aliens’ enslavement of the human race and their inability to evolve seems to indicate otherwise. In fact, it’s quite possible they are directly responsible for the current state of affairs.

  The Ros’tal Corporation, continues A’lara, may have been power-hungry, but it wasn’t evil. At least not in the beginning. They built vast underground housing facilities and offered them to the humans to make up for ruining their planet. But space was limited, and only a fraction of the human population could be saved. A lottery was organized, the winners of which were awarded apartments in the underground facilities.

  “What happened to the losers?”

  No one knows. It’s possible they survived, but I suspect most died as a result of the planetary cooling.

  A heavy silence follows the revelation.

  “It sounds like the Kra’lors tried to help the humans,” says Kara. “What happened?”

  For a while, the humans and the Kra’lors coexisted peacefully. Unaffected by cold, the humans stayed near the surface. They went about their lives in the underground facilities they had been given. The Kra’lors stayed at the center of the Earth where it was warm, mining ‘tals and building a city for themselves. For a while, all was well, but then the supply of crystals ran dry, and the Ros’tal Corporation was forced to venture beyond the center of the planet. The problem was, the farther they travelled, the sparser the ‘tals were scattered. Hiring Kra’lor workers was no longer profitable, so the Ros’tal Corporation turned to the humans for help.

  “They enslaved them?”

  A’lara shakes her head.

  They hired them. Humans received a small wage and bonuses for each ‘tal found. It wasn’t much, but the humans were happy to help. They felt indebted to
the Kra’lors for their homes, so they worked in the mines while the Ros’tal employees lived cozy lives at the center of the Earth. They didn’t complain when the workdays were prolonged. Nor did they protest when their bi-daily breaks were abolished. It wasn’t until their wages were cut that they finally rebelled. By then, the Kra’lor workers had grown accustomed to their new, cushy lives. They built the sentinels and enslaved the humans.

  “Sentinels?”

  It’s what we call the robots.

  The name seems fitting. The robots are always lurking, always watching.

  “Why didn’t the sentinels mine the crystals?” asks Kara.

  They are powered by ‘tals, explains A’lara. Using them to mine would defeat the purpose. It was much more profitable to build a fraction of the robotic force it would have taken to mine and use them to enslave the humans. At least, that was how the Ros’tal Corporation saw it.

  A’lara stops talking. Kara still has many questions, but she’s too worried to voice them. What if she and her companions are responsible for what happened to the humans? What if their actions in the past led the humans down this path?

  A lot has changed since the humans were first enslaved, continues A’lara. Their life expectancy dropped significantly. Few are those who make it past fifty. With each new generation, the humans’ cognitive abilities diminished. Now, very few are capable of forming complete sentences. It doesn’t matter because they are also being drugged using the serum that kept their ancestors from rejecting the mining treaty.

  “Why are the men and women kept apart?” asks Kara.

  Inter-gender interactions were deemed a distraction. Also, each gender has its own set of duties. The men mine ‘tals while the women raise the children and prepare the food.

  “How are the children born?”

  Every year or so, the genders are allowed to commingle, and the resulting births are sufficient to keep the human population from waning.

  “That’s horrible.”

  A’lara nods.

  The only positive in all of this is that the humans don’t realize how pitiful their lives truly are. They have never known freedom, and due to their diminished intelligence, they have forgotten the stories of their ancestors. The life of old has all but been forgotten.