TWELVE

 

The notebook lay on my chest, my fingers clenching it tightly.  I looked up blankly at the dark ceiling.  I hadn’t been able to will myself to open it.  All the things I couldn’t remember, all the dreams that haunted me, the answers were all inside and I couldn’t make myself look at them.

I squeezed my eyes closed as I remembered smelling the steel beneath me, of hearing the drill.  Feeling my head and realizing all my hair had been shaved off.  I had dreamed of running endlessly.  Dreamed of a pair of earthy eyes watching me through an observation window.  It was West, I knew that now.  He had seen everything they had done to me.  The only person I had actually known my whole life, and I couldn’t remember him.

I didn’t sleep that night.  I just stared up at the ceiling, trying to dredge up memories I couldn’t recall, memories that were recorded by someone else’s hand on the pages I held.

Morning came, casting a grey hue to the space around me.  I didn’t leave my tent, couldn’t make myself even get out of my bed.  But it was one of those very rare days I didn’t have any duties.

As I heard Eden begin to stir, a plate of food was pushed under the flap of my tent and then I heard footsteps retreating.  I reached for it, eating what was there without realizing what it even was.

The food in my system seemed to boost my commitment to unlock the past and I finally opened the pages.

The notebook seemed thinner than it should have been, like there were pages missing.  It was in pretty poor shape though, many of the pages barely clinging to the metal spiral that kept them all bound together. 

West was right, the pages about me were located in the middle.  The notes in the beginning of the notebook may as well have been written in another language.  It was scientific and talked about a lot of different alloys, programming, words I didn’t understand.  I could only guess that they were about the design for making me what I was.

The first entry was dated from when I would have been roughly four-years-old. 

 

It feels so impossible that my last entry was only six months ago.  Given last week’s visit from the military, it seems the past few years were so distant and so much easier.

I assumed this was where the pages went missing from.  The pages previous to this entry were of the mathematical, formula type.

NovaTor has been approached by a branch of the military to develop some new technology.  The government has been kept aware of what we have been researching in regards to TorBane the last few years.  But no one is supposed to officially know about the Eve project.

Last week three men came to us with a separate project.  They themselves had been working on something to make soldiers stronger, faster.  It is a chip.  It would be implanted in the brain and it overrules tiredness, pain, and emotion.  You couldn’t ask for a better soldier if you could take out those factors.  I suppose maybe the last one is debatable.

They have been doing human testing with the technology.  They had five subjects.  But they are running into complications.  Where these soldiers don’t feel pain and don’t get tired, they either collapse from exhaustion because their bodies become depleted, because their body is still functioning normally, their brain just doesn’t tell them to slow down, or they break and injure themselves and don’t realize it until they are completely immobilized or dead.

But they heard about the Eve project.  About the regenerative capabilities.  About the ability to heal.

They want us to combine the two technologies.

And they’re offering money that is hard to refuse.

What concerns me is the blocked emotion.  I know what it could do to a young girl’s development.  And I question what a life without emotion would be like.

They don’t want just one test subject.  But how can I in good conscious give them more than that?

I never understood the concept of blackmail fully until recently.  Such a dark, malevolent thing.

After digging around and questioning my staff, they discovered the full details about the Eve project.  How it wasn’t exactly approved or fully documented.  They threatened to report us and get the entire TorBane project shut down.  But they’ll keep quiet if we do their testing.

I have no choice but to turn the Eve project over to them.

 

I was a blackmailed science project.  I was a freak.

Had I been with my family before that?  Had I even had one, ever?  Maybe they had picked me out of an orphanage.  They could have found me in the trash for all I knew. 

The next entry was dated two months later.

 

Our entire team has been working with the military on the chip.  The development and technology is good, but it isn’t fully ready.  It isn’t quite fine-tuned.  A person’s emotions are bound to develop around their blocks and eventually the block will become undone.  They need the ability to do adjustments without having to physically go back into the brain each time.

We’ve brought on Dr. Erik Beeson.  He’s young, just two years out of his doctorate program.  But the boy is brilliant.  I’ve read many of his papers over the years about the brain and wireless capabilities.  And after speaking to him I have no doubt he is going to be the perfect addition to NovaTor Biotics.

He is currently fine tuning the chip.

I feel as if I’m turning into the devil.  And I’m dragging the Eve project down into the fiery pits with me.

 

Three months later:

 

Surgery is scheduled for tomorrow.

 

Two days after surgery:

 

Operation was a success as far as we can tell.  Chip was implanted and project Eve transferred to recovery room.  Currently under observation.  Being kept under sedation for the first three days and then we shall see what happens.  Under normal circumstances, recovery could take up to a month, maybe longer.  But considering Eve’s capabilities I expect less.  Vitals are showing signs of recovery already.  Brain activity is steadily increasing.

 

What he didn’t know was that the sedation had taken longer than they had expected.  I had relived those horrifying moments of paralysis in my dreams.  I had heard the drill.  Thankfully, I must have been finally pulled under before they bored into the back of my skull.  Or if I hadn’t, I didn’t remember that part.

Seven days later:

 

Subject I began to awaken five days after surgery.  Eve was sluggish at first, appearing confused and unsteady.  Coordination was obviously thrown off.  Things changed rapidly by the next day.

An assistant went to check on Eve and to give her the morning rations.  Subject was startled awake and attacked the assistant.  We heard the racket and opened the door to find Eve on top of the assistant, fingers gripped tightly around her neck.  The assistant wasn’t breathing.  Upon seeing us enter the room, subject leapt at us, attacking with force far beyond what a normal five-year-old should be capable of.  It took three of us to wrestle her onto the bed and secure her down.

Aggression was extreme for the next few days.  We waited for things to even out.  The fusion of the chip and the human brain is bound to be fought.  The implant is placed in an area of the brain where emotion stems from.  The brain is trying to attack itself, manifesting as aggression.  Programming will be adjusted to fix the problem.  I suppose this shouldn’t be a surprise considering her previous condition.

Adjustments automatically given to II.  No complications.

 

Problem.  That was what my reaction to being altered was.  It was a problem that I hadn’t liked what they had done to me, that I had tried to fight back.

“Eve?  Are you alright?” 

I jumped violently when I heard the voice from outside my tent.

“Yes, Gabriel,” I said, trying to steady my shaking voice.  “I just needed some time to myself today.”  Was I lying?  What counted more as time to yourself when you’re learning what happened to you in the past that you can’t remember?

He hesitated, catching my out-of-character response.  “Okay,” he said, drawing out the word.  “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” I said, shrinking into my bed.  I listened hard until I heard his footsteps fade away.

My hands were shaking as I looked back at the notebook.  I suddenly felt like I had to keep this a secret, as much as West had felt he had to.  I didn’t want anyone to know what was in here.  The past it contained exposed what I was, what I was capable of.  It exposed the fact that I wasn’t completely human.

But West had read it all.  He knew everything that was written here.  And he hadn’t been afraid of me.  He hadn’t run away.

I shook my head.  West was a distraction I couldn’t afford.  I didn’t like to admit it, but that’s what he was.  A distraction.

An entry from several months after the chip had been implanted:

 

Thus far the chip has been successful in overriding limitations as designed.  Endurance has been increased.  Exhaustion has been overruled.  Tied to this is increased strength.

Phase II of the experiment is progressing well.  It has been fascinating to see the differences. 

 

The shock of reading what was continued on those pages should have worn off.  It didn’t.  Things continued to get more twisted and terrifying.

 

And unexpected side effect of the chip implantation has occurred.  I have been aware of the fact that everything project Eve is able to do should be impossible.  The strength, speed, increased eyesight and hearing capacities.  This has evolved beyond the capability of the military’s chip and TorBane.

The two technologies have intertwined with each other I believe.  The chip has given the TorBane technology the ability to spread and evolve.  After sedation and a full body scan, hints of cybernetic enhancements have been detected throughout Eve’s body.  It is not just the brain, lungs, and heart that have been altered now.  It is the entire body.

Test’s I and II yield duplicate results.

 

I stared at my hand, willing my eyes to see the metallic fingers I had seen on the Bane, searching for any signs of alloys bonded to my bones.  My skin didn’t look any different than Sarah’s would have, no different than Gabriel’s or Morgan’s.  It was all inside.  That was the reason I was so much faster, so much stronger. 

This just brought up a whole new slew of questions.  There was a lot about these notes that I didn’t really understand.  I didn’t speak scientist.  But what had he meant by my brain, lungs, and heart being altered?

And that was when it finally hit me.  West’s grandfather was the one who had created TorBane.  Those letters on the cover that were worn out had at one time spelled NOVATOR BIOTICS.  It was his research and his creation that had led to the fall of humanity.  And I had been a part of that.  He must have given me the technology, and that was why the military wanted to use that chip on me.  I must have been among the first to get TorBane.  He had created the infection using the data he had collected from the experiments done on me.

I suddenly hated myself.

I forced myself to read through the rest of the pages.  It didn’t seem important to read them in detail anymore.  I had been experimented upon as a child.  And now here I was.  I was the way I was and there was nothing I could do to change that.

There were pages and pages recording the endurance tests I had been put through.  They continued to monitor my sleep habits.  It seemed I had required little sleep my entire life.  I didn’t even require as much food as normal people.

An entry from when I was ten:

 

As Eve’s brain has continued to develop and evolve, adjustments have been required in II.  Her emotions have been changing.  Fear and anger started to surface this last week, indicating our previous programming has been outdone.  As she continues to grow we will need to make more adjustments.

I did the tuning myself.  It is a complex procedure; the programming must be done precisely.  Emotion is something not easily blocked.  Modification must be dealt with carefully to not harm the brain and therefore, the body.  After I had the programming correctly written, the adjustments were interfaced with the chip.  The change was instantaneous.  Amazing, the control that is exacted through remote programming.

Subject is again devoid of emotion.

 

I stared at the last line for a long time, my insides feeling hollow and empty.  It was as if this man had reached through the pages and yanked all my insides out. 

Subject is again devoid of emotion.

It explained a lot.  How I didn’t panic when others did.  How I didn’t understand what was happening to everyone after Tye had died, how I didn’t recognize their grief.  How I always felt so disconnected from everyone around me.

I forced myself to read the last page that referenced directly to me.

 

Apparently the money has run out.  I’m finally being released from the military’s hold.  They want the Eve project maintained and will pay for that, but they are putting it on hiatus for a few years now.  This finally frees me and my team up to finish the TorBane research.  We should have the final strain ready for mass production within two years.  Maybe less.  It is time to move on from the Eve project.  All data needed in regards to TorBane has been collected from experiments done to project Eve.  Project is being handed off to Dr. Beeson for maintenance.  The next phase of TorBane testing is ready.

 

And that was the end of the entries about me. 

 

The sun started to sink into the western horizon and I still had not left my tent.  Another plate of food had been pushed under the entry flap as evening set but it remained untouched on the ground.

I imagined myself sinking through the ground, of burying myself into the earth and disappearing.  I had helped cause the end of the world.  Whether it was by my choice or not, I was a means to the end.  I was now meaningless, an experiment forgotten about, no longer needed.  I was a hollow vessel with no reason for still being.  They had gotten what they needed out of me and moved on.

Eden fell quiet, slumber sweeping over its inhabitants.  And still I lay there, my eyes staring up at the ceiling, yet seeing nothing.  My mind was blank, my insides hollow.  It felt better that way.  Should I fill back in, everything would collapse in on me.

I barely even heard the sound of feet outside before a dark figure entered my tent.  I knew who it was, even if my eyes couldn’t see his face until he raised the lantern and closed the flap behind him.

I looked away from him and drew my eyes back to the ceiling.

West stepped closer to me, set the lantern on the ground by the wall and sat on the floor facing me.

“Here,” I managed to make my throat work as I handed the notebook to him.  “Please take it.”

He accepted it.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I should have told him that none of it was his fault.  He had been a child after all.  It was his father and grandfather, NovaTor, not him that had done this.  But I couldn’t do it.

 “You still don’t remember any of it?” he asked quietly.

I barely managed to shake my head.

“I’ve thought about it.  Dr. Beeson, the one who took over your care and research, he was a kind man.  He didn’t approve of everything that was done to you.  When things started getting out of control, when TorBane started taking everyone, I think he let you go.  He made you forget somehow.  Probably with the chip.  He knew you would survive, that you could take care of yourself.”

I gave the smallest of nods.  “Why did he do it to me?  Why did your grandfather give me TorBane?”

West was quiet for a moment, as if recalling the past.  “I honestly don’t know how you came to be at NovaTor.  But I do know you were sick.  You were a brand new baby and you were going to die.  My grandpa wanted to do a human test with TorBane and he just went ahead and did it.  He didn’t tell anyone.  And you got better.  You were fine because of the technology.  And I think that’s why you can’t infect anyone.  You were given it at such a young age, it is just part of who you are.  Everyone else was given it as an adult so it overtook them.  But this is who you are, Eve.”

I nodded.  What had happened didn’t matter.  I was what I was.  What had happened wasn’t going to change, no matter the paths that had created it.

“Please say something,” he said quietly.

I turned my head slightly to look at him.  Tears traced patterns in the dirt on his face as they slid down his cheeks.  “I don’t think I can even do that,” I said as I watched one of the tears drop into the dirt beneath him.

West wiped his thumb across his cheek, before slowly extending his hand to my face.  His eyes burned and clouded at the same time as he wiped his damp thumb across my own cheek.  Borrowed tears.

“I can’t feel anything,” I spoke quietly through the dim light.  “I can’t feel emotion.  I’m hollow.”

West shook his head.  “You’re not hollow.  You feel things.”

I shook my head.  “He blocked it all.  He made sure I didn’t feel anything.  It became a problem.”

West scooted closer, shifting himself forward.  He reached a hand toward me, placing his palm on my cheek, his thumb traveling from my cheek to my lips.  I closed my eyes as heat tingled on the surface of my skin.

“You feel things,” he whispered again.  His hand trailed down the side of my neck, down my arm until his fingers intertwined with mine.

A quivering filled my stomach as I kept my eyes closed.  My entire body felt like it hummed as I smelled West’s presence, so close to me.  It felt as if I could sense every surface of his body, so acutely aware of him it was as if he was an extension of my own being.

West shifted again, the one hand still intertwined with mine, his other one coming up to the side of my neck.  And then his lips were on mine.

It wasn’t crushing like the first unexpected one had been.  This one saturated me slowly, hesitant in a way that consumed me.  It smoldered at first, heat rising with every passing moment, eating me up from my stomach outward. 

A tiny gasp escaped from my lips as they parted and I didn’t even realize what I was doing as my free hand knotted in West’s shaggy hair.  He shifted again, most of his body lying on top of mine.

I burned from the inside out.  My heart raced.  I wanted more but felt totally consumed by West, getting everything I needed yet feeling that it was not even close to being enough.

He pulled away just a bit, resting his forehead against mine.  His eyes were closed as he tried to slow his breathing.  “You feel things.” He said raggedly.  “I know you felt that.”

 

West fell asleep, his arms wrapped tightly around me.  His face seemed so peaceful.  He looked younger.  In sleep he didn’t have to worry about survival, feel guilt for the actions of his family.  

It took me a while to understand how I was feeling that night.  I was relaxed too.  Sluggish almost.  This was more than the fall of my defenses

I felt happy.

Maybe I did feel things after all.

Maybe I’d had my own evolution.