The Individuality Gene Read online

  Jonn nods.

  “I remember.” He presses his hand to his chest and winces. “Where are we?”

  I shrug.

  “Where’s Kara?”

  I look around, but there’s no sight of my former girlfriend.

  “I don’t know,” I admit, feeling guilty for not thinking of her sooner.

  Jonn struggles to his feet and scans our surroundings.

  “We’re not alone,” he says. He instinctively reaches for his hunting knife, but the weapon is gone. Only the sheath remains.

  I follow my friend’s gaze and find a man standing nearby, staring at us. He’s short and stalky, with wrinkled, ashy skin, a thick beard and matted hair. His clothes are tattered rags. His face is haggard, and his posture is pitiful.

  “He’s not alone,” says Jonn.

  He’s right. There are dozens of humans scattered throughout the glowing forest. Identical to the ones we encountered in the past, all are dressed alike and look exhausted. Most are lying about, sleeping, but a few wander the forest, grim expression plastered across their tired faces.

  “What’s wrong with them?” asks Jonn.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at them. They’re filthy and thin. They look more dead than alive.”

  He’s right. Every last one of the conscious humans has the same emotionless expression. Glazed eyes. Slow, sluggish movements. There’s no doubt in my mind they’re being drugged.

  What does it mean? I study the humans once more and notice something Jonn missed.

  “They’re all men,” I say.

  “What?”

  “There are no women. No children.”

  “You’re right. What do you think it means?”

  I shrug.

  “At least now we know why Kara isn’t here.”

  I still have no idea where—or when—we are, but the fact that our surroundings are populated with males seems to indicate the humans from this time live in a society where men and women are kept apart.

  “What now?” asks Jonn.

  “I still have my ring. We could use it—”

  “We can’t abandon Kara.”

  “That’s not what I was suggesting. We can use the holo tracker to determine whether or not Avalon is in this time.”

  “How will that help us find Kara?”

  “It won’t,” I admit, “but the more we know about this time, the better.”

  Jonn says nothing, which is his way of agreeing.

  I’m about to activate the holo tracker when I notice something.

  A rolled up parchment. It lies nearby and seems so out of place I can’t help but feel drawn to it. My sense of unease grows when I find my name printed on it. Hands trembling, I unroll it and start reading.

  “What is it?” asks Jonn.

  It takes me a while to answer.

  “It’s a letter. From Avalon.”

  “What does it say?”

  “I haven’t read it yet.”

  “Then read it.”

  “I’m trying, but you keep talking.”

  Jonn glares at me but falls silent.

  I start reading.

  Dear Will,

  You failed. The assassination you prevented was a trick. My “assassin” was not trying to kill the first individual. He was the first individual.

  The woman you risked your life to protect was working with the Ros’tal Corporation. Ork tried killing her out of duty to his people, knowing her death would shock the humans into evolving and becoming true individuals. By saving her and getting Ork killed, you doomed the humans and irreversibly altered the past.

  Tricking you and your friends into doing my dirty work was fun, but it was only the beginning. You are now 500 years in the future. You can attempt to rectify your faux-pas, but nothing you do now can make up for your past mistake.

  Have fun,

  —Avalon

  I fall silent once I’m done reading. I’m both angry and embarrassed. Avalon played us, and we fell for it. Again.

  All that was once illogical now makes perfect sense. The older version of myself we encountered was, in fact, Avalon. Not only does it explain how he knew so much about Avalon’s plan, but it explains why the holo tracker led us to her. The only thing I don’t understand is how she knew about Grace. But I guess that doesn’t really matter now.

  The mind jacker we found was nothing more than a diversionary tactic, planted by Avalon to keep us from uncovering the truth. Even if Ork had revealed the true nature of his plan, we wouldn’t have listened because we would have assumed he was under Avalon’s control. Once again, she thought of everything.

  There are still a few things I don’t understand. For starters, how did Avalon send us five hundred years in the future? I thought it was impossible to travel within a single passing of Nibiru. But I guess that’s of little consequence now.

  “What now?” I ask.

  Jonn shrugs.

  “Try activating the holo tracker,” he suggests.

  I do, but as expected, Avalon is nowhere to be found.

  “Any other ideas?”

  “We explore. The more we know about this time, the better. With any luck, we can locate Kara and get the drowned out of here.”

  “Shouldn’t we fix our mistake first?” I ask.

  “We don’t even know if the past was altered. Avalon could have lied.”

  It’s possible but unlikely. Still, I refuse to give up until we have undeniable proof our actions altered the course of history.

  We pick a direction at random and start walking. We encounter hundreds of sleeping men. Dozens more are awake, but display signs of advanced exhaustion. Determining whether they are true individuals is impossible.

  We keep going until we emerge from the forest. The sight that stands before us is so impressive I can’t help gasping.

  We’re in a cavern. The sheer size of it makes me feel puny and insignificant. The ceiling hovers hundreds of metres above us and remains permanently bathed in shadows. The walls stand so far apart they vanish in hazy shimmers of earth and stone.

  The cavern is split into two distinct sections. The first is a vast forest of glowing trees and soft, spongy moss. The second is bare stone. Chiselled by hand, the vast expanse is illuminated by hundreds of glowing torches. The yellow light they produce is reminiscent of the energy blasts the robots used to knock us out. Speaking of robots, hundreds line the perimeter of the cavern. They stand shoulder to shoulder, immobile. Their chests glow with great intensity, but their eyes remain dark.

  “What’s wrong with them?” asks Jonn.

  “I think they’re inactive,” I say.

  “Let’s find out.”

  He heads toward the nearest robot and waves his hand in front of its face.

  “Be careful,” I warn.

  “It’s fine.” He pokes the automaton in the chest.

  Nothing happens.

  “See. I told you…”

  His voice trails off when the robot’s eyes start glowing. Jonn stumbles backward but only makes it a short distance before the automaton grabs his wrist and squeezes. A strangled cry escapes my friend’s throat as a mask of horror spreads across his face. He struggles to combat his assailant, but the metallic man is too powerful. A simple twist of the arm sends him crumbling to the ground. The grey-haired soldier struggles for a while before giving up. Only then does the robot release him.

  Jonn crumbles, groaning in relief. I rush to his side and guide him away from the robot. Now that we’re no longer a threat, the automaton returns to its former state.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  He nods, but I can tell he’s in a great deal of pain. He glares at the robots, but his expression soon changes from pain to confusion.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. I follow my friend’s gaze to the line of robots and realize they’re no longer inactive. Their eyes glow with a fierce intensity, yet they remain perfectly still.

  “What’s going on?” asks Jonn.
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  “I don’t—” I begin, but a high-pitched sound cuts me off. It persists for a minute before fading.

  “What the drowned was that?” asks Jonn.

  I shrug.

  A few minutes pass before throngs of men come pouring out of the glowing forest. They emerge by the hundreds, shoulders slumped and feet dragging. But the sluggishness isn’t what worries me. What has my heart racing a hundred kilometres a minute is the sight of their eyes.

  They’re dead eyes, devoid of emotion and individuality.

  Avalon was right. We didn’t save the humans; we doomed them.

  Reconstructed Memory 1

  K ara awakes to a blaring alarm. Fully awake, she bolts upright.

  “Where am I?” she groans. She looks around, but all she sees are glowing trees, a carpet of moss, and dozens of women emerging from their slumber. Tall and sinuous, they’re identical to the females she encountered in the past.

  Kara scans her surroundings in search of answers, but all she gets are more questions. Where is Will? Where is Jonn? What time is she in? Answering those questions will require further investigation. Standing, she picks a direction at random and heads off.

  The walk lasts only a few minutes. Emerging from the forest, she finds herself progressing through a vast expanse of stone and dirt. Torches line the walls. Robots with glowing chests and matching eyes patrol the cavern. There are also thousands of women and children of both genders.

  “Excuse me,” says Kara, approaching an elderly woman. “Where am I?”

  The woman stares at her with dead eyes and says nothing.

  Kara gasps.

  “No. This can’t be.” She scans the crowd, hoping to be proven wrong, but everyone displays a total and utter lack of individuality. That can only mean one thing.

  They failed. The humans never evolved.

  The revelation hits her hard. Desperate for a distraction, she scans the crowd, but all she finds are dreary-faced, rag-wearing people. They wander around, aimless.

  I must find my companions, she decides. Together, we can figure a way out of this mess.

  Kara tries to get some answers, but the women remain oblivious to her presence. Even the children are unresponsive.

  What happened? she wonders. They seem worse than before. Whatever kept them from evolving seems to have made them even more senseless and compliant.

  It takes a while, but Kara eventually discovers the humans can speak. Their interactions are basic, but they appear to have retained some of their mental capabilities. It is, however, quite obvious that something major happened in their past that caused them to regress even further than—

  An alarm blares, interrupting Kara mid-thought. It lasts only a few seconds, but it’s enough to persuade the crowd to start moving. Unable to fight the mass of bodies, Kara is dragged along. The journey lasts a few minutes and ends with her reaching a series of gaping holes in the cavern wall. Each of the dozen breaches is guarded by two robots with glowing chests. They surveil the crowd, making sure no one is left behind. Hoping to pass unnoticed, Kara tries to blend in with the crowd, but one of the robots spots her just as she’s about to reach the breach. It advances through the throng of dirty humans, shoving them aside without care or consideration.

  Kara hesitates. Should she run? Should she fight? Should she pretend to be the frail young woman most strangers assume she is? By the time she makes up her mind, the robot has reached her, and escape has become impossible.

  The automaton grabs her arm and leads her out of the cavern. The crowd that fills the stone tunnel along which they now travel parts to let them through. It doesn’t take long before they reach a fork in the road. Turning right, they keep going. Every so often they encounter another intersection, and each time they do, the crowd thins a little more. Soon, Kara and her escort travel along a narrow tunnel in company of a dozen or so women. Unlike the others, this one appears to have been built, not excavated. There’s also a series of doors, each one marked with a different logo. A few remain unidentifiable, but most are easy to decipher.

  The laundry room. The kitchen. The slaughterhouse—this particular symbol is gruesome but unmistakable. With each new door they pass, the number of women accompanying them diminishes. By the time they reach the final one, only Kara and the robot remain.

  A greenhouse. That’s the symbol that adorns the last door.

  That doesn’t sound so bad, thinks Kara, but her views on the matter change when she enters the room and discovers the nature of the cultures.

  They’re not growing plants. They’re growing people.

  Memory 20

  D efeat washes over me, all-consuming.

  How could we have let this happen? I wonder. How could I have let this happen? I’m the one who trusted my older self. I’m responsible for all that has happened. Because of me, the humans never evolved. Because of me, their individuality gene remains dormant, never to awaken.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” says Jonn.

  I stare at him, stunned.

  “You screwed up,” he continues, “but we can still fix your mistake.”

  That’s more like it. For a moment, I thought he was being nice to me.

  “You think so?” I ask.

  “Of course.”

  “What about Avalon’s letter? She said the past was irreversibly altered.”

  The grey-haired soldier snorts.

  “She lied. Are you surprised?”

  No. I’m not surprised. But deep down I know Avalon would never have sent us here if there was even the slightest chance we could return history to its proper course. But what do we have to lose?

  “Do you have a plan?” I ask.

  “I have a few ideas, but first we must find Kara.”

  He’s right. Locating my former girlfriend is our number one priority. Once we’re back together, we can figure out whether or not resetting history is possible.

  “How are we—” I begin, but an ear-splitting alarm cuts me off. As soon as it fades, the crowd that has amassed around us starts moving toward the far end of the cavern. Unable to fight the current, Jonn and I are dragged along.

  The cacophony of stomping footsteps makes talking impossible, so I study the crowd. There are thousands of men. Tens of thousands. All look weary and bear the same emotionless expression. They wear rags and smell of despair and unwashed armpits. It takes all the strength I have not to gag.

  We keep going for a while before Jonn tries to get some answers. Speaking fails, but the threat of bodily harm proves quite effective.

  “Don’t hurt me,” begs Jonn’s target as the sight of his raised fist.

  We exchange a surprised look. This is the first time I hear one of the humans speak.

  “Where are we going?” demands the grey-haired soldier.

  “Work.”

  “What does that mean?”

  The man doesn’t answer. He stares blankly ahead until Jonn releases him then wanders off.

  We keep going for nearly an hour before we reach the far end of the cavern. There, the crowd is divided into teams of half a dozen individuals. Our group consists of the man Jonn interrogated, two other weary humans, and a robot. I can’t be sure, but the way it looks at Jonn makes me think it’s the one same automaton that nearly broke his arm.

  Our robotic leader guides us to a massive pen. Gathered within are thousands of large animals. Similar to rhinoceroses in size and appearance, the odd creatures are covered in a thick layer of long, silky fur. The imposing horns protruding from their large snouts and the thick armour plates that run the length of their spines tell me they would make mighty war beasts. My theory is confirmed by the presence of a bony protuberance at the end of their long, thick tails. There’s no doubt in my mind a single blow would suffice to kill a man.

  Two of our teammates grab a large harness from a nearby pile, enter the enclosure, and proceed to attach it to the nearest woolly rhino. They then usher the beast out of the pen and guide it to a field where
hundreds of wooden wagons lie in wait.

  “What is it called?” I ask, pointing at the large animal. Our only remaining teammate—the man who spoke to us earlier—eyes the robot for a moment before answering.

  “Rokk.”

  “They’re called rokks?” I inquire. I rather like the term “woolly rhino,” but “rokk” seems more fitting given the beast’s tail bulge.

  The man nods, and we progress in silence until we reach the nearest wagon. I watch as our teammates link the vehicle to the beast using leather straps. The wooden carriage is rather drab with its low sides and primitive wheels, but I forget all about that when I notice the four strange torches that are attached to it. There are no flames, only a soft yellow glow that seems to emanate from what looks like a small crystal.

  “That’s odd,” I mutter.

  “What?” asks Jonn.

  “Nothing.”

  We wait in silence for the wagon to be ready, then climb in. Inside is a mining cart and four pickaxes, which is rather odd seeing how our team comprises five members. The sixth—the robot—grabs the rokk’s reigns and leads the beast toward the nearby wall. I watch, amazed, as hundreds of wagons enter the dozens of tunnels that riddle the rocky surface. By the time we reach the nearest one, we’re among the few remaining teams.

  My heart starts racing as soon as we enter the tunnel. It’s so narrow the wagon barely fits. As for the ceiling, it’s so low the robot must travel in a semi-crouch. Even Jonn, his height augmented by the cart, must bow his head to avoid hitting the ceiling.

  We progress in silence, the torches strapped to our wagon the only thing keeping the darkness at bay. Ahead of us, I can make out more torches. Every once in a while, one veers off, venturing down an intersecting tunnel. Soon, only we remain. We progress through the darkness for a while before a glow catches my eye.

  It’s a tree. It glows softly, its branches swaying in an imaginary breeze.

  That’s odd, I think as we roll past it. How did it grow down here with no water and no light?

  I notice our teammates bowing their heads in deference, but don’t bother asking why. It’s not like they would tell me.