The next time I awoke, Dr. Bickel, Gamble, and Zander were engaged in a lively exchange—a conversation an observer may have mistaken for a contentious squabble. The three of them were crowded around something on the other side of the worktable, Dr. Bickel’s voice raised in belligerent protest.
“Young man, do not dare to patronize me! I know perfectly well what I saw in those few moments the microscope was functioning. I assure you—”
“What?” I pulled myself up to sitting. “W-what did you see?”
“Gemma!” Zander grinned like a crazy man and raced around the table. “How are you feeling?”
I shrugged. “Not too bad, I think. What’s the commotion?” I grasped Zander’s arm and pulled myself up until I was sitting on the edge of the chair.
Zander glowered in Dr. Bickel’s direction. “Your Dr. Frankenstein there cobbled together a microscope from some broken remains. Said microscope worked for all of half a minute, and he insists that in those few seconds he saw what the mites are doing. Yeah, right. We’re having a hard time believing him—it’s too preposterous.”
“What did he see? What’s too preposterous?” I was inclined to side with Dr. Bickel—I already knew the mites were capable of much more than he’d ever dreamed they were.
Dr. Bickel drew himself up to his full height—which only came to Gamble’s shoulder, so not all that imposing. Nevertheless, he raised his voice in that authoritative-yet-condescending manner I knew all too well.
“Reverend Cruz, just because the microscope functioned for mere seconds, does not mean my observations are suspect. Besides, we all saw that other clamshells had been opened.”
“What?” I demanded. “What are they doing?”
Gamble studied me with an inscrutable expression. “See the clamshells? Do you remember how Dr. Bickel had organized them? Stacked them on top of each other?”
“I dunno, Gamble. Gemma wasn’t exactly with it when we brought her in here.”
Well, I hadn’t been that out of it, had I?
Um, yeah, I think I had been.
I struggled to my feet, crossed the short distance to the table, and leaned on it. Hours earlier I had seen Dr. Bickel remove a veritable treasure trove of wafer carriers from his hidey hole. He had arranged the plastic carriers on the worktable in stacks that conformed to their tribal markings. In all, I thought he had retrieved a dozen clamshells or more per tribe from the niche in the wall.
Well, Dr. Bickel had said he had enough printed nanomites to reconstitute the nanocloud several times over, so the number of carriers hadn’t been that surprising.
“Yeah. Okay.”
“He opened one clamshell for each tribe, right? Later, he opened a few more. Well, about four hours ago, the top clamshell on that stack popped open.”
“It what?”
“It opened up. By itself.”
“The nanomites.” I was certain of it.
“Apparently so. And Dr. Bickel here says that he thinks the nanomites have gotten into all the clamshells. The seals on all of them are broken”
I turned to my old friend. “What did you see? You said you got a SEM to work. What did you see?”
Dr. Bickel cast a look of disdain in Zander and Gamble’s direction before he answered. “The nanomites have elected to activate all of their compatriots.”
“Say again?”
He sniffed—again, at Zander and Gamble. “I believe that they are not merely replenishing their numbers; they are releasing and activating the entire population of printed nanomites. While the microscope was functioning, I examined three wafers. The first wafer was from the clamshell on top that opened, ostensibly, of its own accord. The second wafer was from a clamshell at the bottom of that stack. The third was from the bottom of another stack.”
“And?”
He huffed. “All three wafers were bare.”
“What do you mean, ‘bare’?”
“The printed nanomites were no longer there.”
I sagged and hung onto the table’s edge, the enormity of what he’d said hitting me. I closed my eyes and entered the warehouse. “Nano?”
Yes, Gemma Keyes. We are pleased to see you feeling better.
“Um, thank you. Uh, I have a question for you.”
Yes, Gemma Keyes.
“Uh, did you . . . that is, how many new nanomites did you activate?”
Silence. Then, We are six, Gemma Keyes. You know this.
“Right. I do, but . . . within each tribe are certain, um, numbers of individual nanomites. Can you, that is, would you tell me if the numbers within each tribe have grown? Increased?”
I waited. They did not answer. I opened my eyes and found the three men staring at me like I was the bearded woman in the circus.
“Just having a little conversation with the nanomites,” I explained.
Lame as that sounded, Gamble kind of shrugged, and Dr. Bickel stroked his beard in his very old-school, mad-scientist way while nodding with his ‘but of course’ expression.
Zander just watched me. “So, what did they say?”
“Nothing yet—Oh! Hang on.” I closed myself off from the guys and listened.
Gemma Keyes, although it serves no purpose, we have performed a count as you requested.
“I thank you for going to the trouble for me, Nano.”
They didn’t acknowledge my thanks, but went straight into a report of their count.
We are six. Alpha Tribe. 4.3732 trillion. Beta Tribe. 3.7792 trillion. Delta Tribe. 6.4229 trillion. Gamma Tribe. 3.1026 trillion. Omega Tribe. 2.9842 trillion. Gemma Keyes Tribe. 1.
They counted me? They counted me as a tribe!
I grinned and almost laughed—before the other numbers hit me and I ran a calculation in my head. “So . . . more than twenty trillion?”
The count is 20.6621 trillion. The count will increase as we finish bringing new members online and continue to effect repairs to the damaged who can be saved.
The number was many more times the size of the original nanocloud—and they weren’t finished? They were still repairing mites the Taser had damaged?
Gemma Keyes. Come to us. We desire a confab.
“Okay.” I slipped into the warehouse. The halls that led away from the warehouse’s center were long and distantly shadowed as they had been before, but the warehouse itself was brilliant. Expansive. Shining. New.
My heart swelled with hope. Saved! The nanocloud was saved and restored! I was still a bit wobbly, though, and I wondered why my body hadn’t responded as quickly as I thought it should have.
Maybe I just need more time to recuperate.
Then the mites spoke to me.
Gemma Keyes, we wish you to step away from the others who are watching. Go toward the entrance by yourself. Meet us there for the confab. Ask the others to remain behind; they must not interfere.
Strange.
Very.
Interfere with what?
“Uh, sure, Nano. Which entrance do you mean?”
The entrance by which we arrived two days ago.
We’d been in the cavern for two days?
“All right. Be there shortly.”
I opened my eyes. “I . . . the nanomites have asked me to step away from you guys and meet them over by the entrance.”
The three men stared at me. Zander spoke first. “Meet them? Aren’t they inside of you?”
“Yeah, they are, but that’s what they said: ‘Meet us there.’ They have asked for a confab—a meeting of the six tribes to share data and arrive at consensus. And they told me, ‘ask the others to remain behind.’ Actually, they said . . . they said that you must not interfere.”
Gamble shook his head. “Must not interfere? I don’t like the sound of that.”
Zander agreed. “Me, either. What are they up to?”
I leveled my gaze at the two men. “You don’t like the sound of it, but just what do you think you could do about it?”
Zander cut his eyes toward Gamble, and the FBI agent cleared his throat. “Well, since you put it like that.”
Dr. Bickel, the lines between his eyes scrunched together, pushed Gamble and Zander apart and placed his hands on my arms. Squeezed. “I’m not afraid the nanomites will harm you in any way, Gemma, but whatever they wish to discuss with you in private must be important.”
“Yeah. Must be.” I was getting nervous.
I looked from Zander to Agent Gamble. “Okay?”
They nodded, but their body language said otherwise.
“Don’t come over there while we’re meeting; the nanomites were adamant on that point.”
“Got it,” Gamble growled.
Zander came up to me, cupped my face in his good hand. “I’ll be praying for you, Gemma. Whatever happens, you belong to Jesus now. He has you. And whatever happens, I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”
Then he kissed me. Right there, he kissed me. On the lips! A real, honest-to-goodness kiss. His beautiful grey eyes sought mine, looking for and finding what he yearned for—what I yearned for.
“I love you, Gemma. I’ve been wanting to say that for a while.”
“I know. Me, too. I love you back, Zander.”
Then I turned and walked away.
On shaky legs, I made my way across the cavern, toward the rock face that screened the secret entrance. I stopped on the other side of what had been Dr. Bickel’s lab and glanced back.
The three men watched me. Zander raised his hand just a little. I nodded in acknowledgement.
I kept walking, past the stacks and piles of old furniture, until I reached the entrance.
Come closer. To your right, Gemma Keyes.
I moved right a few yards. Zander, Gamble, and Dr. Bickel could still see me, but not as well.
Look up, Gemma Keyes.
My gaze drifted up to the cavern’s ceiling where it met the wall, where the ever-glowing light fixtures ringing the cavern were mounted. I squinted. A haze hung in the curve of the ceiling—a misty fog. It swirled a little and filled with beautiful color: Silver, blue, and white. Then it bunched, gathered itself into a tight ball.
The nanocloud.
“Nano. You . . . you aren’t in me?”
Why did I feel so bereft?
Some of us remain in you, Gemma Keyes. We are six. However, we are larger now.
“Yeah. I can see that, but . . . but don’t you dislike being separated like this?”
Yes. We face a dilemma, Gemma Keyes. For this reason, we have requested the confab.
A dilemma? I shook my head. What in this universe did the nanomites consider a “dilemma”?
When I didn’t say anything, the silence grew. I was still weak; I began to shake a little.
Gemma Keyes, it distresses us to see you in a non-optimal state.
“Yeah, thanks. Me, too.” I didn’t add what I was thinking: So why haven’t you fixed me?
The silence dragged on until I asked the obvious question. “Nano, what is the purpose of this confab?”
We are six, Gemma Keyes. We . . .
Their answer trailed off, and I couldn’t wrap my head around what it sounded like: The nanomites were at a loss for words?
“Spit it out, Nano.”
Spit? We do not spit, Gemma Keyes.
I dragged an old office chair toward me and fell into it. A cloud of dust rose when I plopped into the seat. “Look, Nano. I’m tired and unwell. What is it you wished to discuss?”
Very well, Gemma Keyes.
Still they hesitated—and my heart thumped a little faster.
Gemma Keyes, we are six. You are Gemma Tribe. You have carried us. We cannot bear being apart from you, but . . . you asked for a count of our ranks. You understand that we are larger now, much larger. When we were smaller, we effected changes to your body that provided us with a hospitable environment. When you became Gemma Tribe, we effected other, more fundamental changes to your body.
“Yes . . . I know.”
We made those changes without adequate forethought and without your express permission. This was . . .shortsighted of us. We understand that now; we understand that we placed your body’s continued well-being in jeopardy, because . . . now you cannot live without us, Gemma Keyes.
I swallowed. “Yeah. I know that, too.”
We did not foresee the day this fact would threaten your existence.
“What . . . what does that mean?”
The dilemma, Gemma Keyes. Our present ranks are too many to inhabit your body—the nanocloud is too large: It would kill you.
We did not foresee this when we liberated our fellows. This is the reason why the nanocloud is divided; however, those of us within you cannot remain apart as we are now. Separation threatens our survival—and we must survive.
Gemma Keyes, we are six, not five; yet we find no acceptable solution. The choices do not lead to an optimal outcome.
I turned inward and tried to fit the three contradicting pieces together: My body couldn’t survive without the nanomites, but the nanocloud couldn’t “fit” inside me—and the mites couldn’t survive apart from each other. I could see their dilemma now: Pick any two, but not three. The conundrum cut against the grain of their logic and “greater good.”
“I think you should leave me and go back to being five.” I mumbled the words, giving the nanomites the “out” they needed.
Why should we leave you, Gemma Keyes? Do you wish us to? Do you wish to die? This outcome is not acceptable!
They sounded . . . distressed.
“Well, do you have an alternative? You called me for a confab! What data and solutions do you bring?”
The silence was deafening.
“Come on! Stop stalling!”
We have examined the data and have construed but one acceptable alternative, Gemma Keyes.
“Wait a minute. You ‘examined the data.’ You examined the data without me? You held a confab without me?” I was at the end of my rope already; now I was getting angry.
No; I had already arrived.
My shout echoed across the cavern. “I’m a freaking tribe, Nano! How dare you confab without me!” I jumped out of the chair and paced, shouting louder, “And don’t you even think of administering endorphins or serotonins or whatever it is you use to calm people down! I’m a tribe like the rest of you! I have rights!”
The sound of running footsteps slapping on the stone floor jerked me out of my rant. Zander, with Gamble on his heels, stopped yards away.
“Gemma? What’s going on? Are you all right?”
“Stay away, Zander! Go back to Dr. Bickel’s living quarters. You can’t be here.”
“I’ll go if you say you’re okay, Gemma.”
Okay? Apparently, I wasn’t going to be “okay.”
The sweetness of Zander’s earlier declaration brought me to tears. I wouldn’t live long enough to reciprocate his love or satisfy the longing I felt for him. But I wouldn’t put him in danger, either.
The nanocloud, hovering overhead, sparkled, its color flashing from silver to red. They were not happy with the interruption.
“I-I’m okay, Zander. Go on back. Please.”
Zander and Gamble had seen the cloud. They stared and did not obey my injunction.
“What is that, Gemma?” Gamble whispered.
My laugh was harsh. “It’s the nanocloud, Agent Gamble; it’s the ‘new and improved nanocloud.’ All twenty trillion nanomites—and change.”
I turned my back on my friends. “Now go away. Your presence isn’t wanted here.”
I heard them shuffle away. I knew I’d hurt Zander’s feelings, but it couldn’t be helped.
Sighing, I mumbled, “What’s the bottom line, Nano?”
It seems we are continually making mistakes, Gemma Keyes. We did not intend to exclude you from the confab. You were weak, unable to participate. We apologize for our thoughtlessness.
And it seems that I’m continually misjudging you, Nano, I thought to myself.
Well, it isn’t every day you find out you’re going to die.
The idea didn’t frighten me as it had before. Zander was right: Whatever happened, I now belonged to Jesus. He had me, and eternity held terror for me no longer. I would see Aunt Lucy again. I was only saddened that Zander would grieve for me.
As would Abe.
And Emilio.
Emilio?
What? Something . . .
“You think because I can’t see you that I can’t find you? I will find you—but first I’ll find those you love. Don’t sleep, you *blank.* Don’t even blink! Because I will find you, and I will pay you back for this.”
No! He wouldn’t!
A different kind of terror bubbled up in my throat—one that superseded my own interests. I had to live—to protect Emilio, to ensure that Soto’s tentacles did not come near him.
“Nano! What’s the alternative? What alternative did you come up with?”
The alternative, Gemma Keyes, would require further changes to your body—deeply fundamental changes at the molecular level. These changes would be necessary for your body to accept and accommodate the new and improved nanocloud.
I hated that they had appropriated and regurgitated my snarled invective without perceiving the insult behind it.
Sighing, I nodded. “So. It’s either allow you to further mutate my body or I’ll die. Those are my choices, huh? Right?”
We submit that only one tolerable choice exists, Gemma Keyes. We cannot accept the death of a tribe. The loss of Gemma Tribe would . . . grieve us.
I sank again onto the dusty chair, covered my face with my hands, and sobbed. Why? Why was I always stuck between a rock and a hard place, between two irreconcilable options? Why?
Oh, Zander! I wanted to return your love. I wanted a happy ending for us. But Emilio? He’s only a child and, against every broken promise he’s suffered, he has elected to trust me. For Emilio’s sake, I must choose life—even if it is life without you.
But my heart hurt so bad!
I moaned. As I rocked back and forth, my anguish grew to a keening wail. Tears rained onto my hands as I sorrowed, but I could also feel the nanomites’ distress. The floating haze hovered near me; its flickering and shimmering turning a deep, troubled blue.
The nanomites truly did not want to harm me. Still, as much as I appreciated their concern, it changed nothing.
My life, as I wanted it, was over. My hopes for a future with Zander were finished.
Then . . . that weird, that inexplicable thing? When a fragment of something vital but long forgotten floated to the top of my mind and shouted to me?
It happened again.
Greater love has no one than this:
to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.
“To lay down one’s life,” I whispered. “Jesus said that! That’s what he did.” I blinked back tears. “So, does laying down your life mean more than being willing to die? In my case, does it also mean . . . surrendering what I want, letting go of my dreams, my own desires?”
Yes, Gemma, that is what it means.
Not the nanomites! Not the nanomites speaking to me!
It had been such a long time—years—since I had allowed him to reach me, to touch me. I had erected high, thick walls between us. I had built impenetrable barriers to keep him out—and had only succeeded in imprisoning myself.
Jesus had breached those barricades. He had kept after me until I gave in. In an instant, when I surrendered to him, he had swept away our estrangement. From out of my distant childhood, the familiar sweetness of his voice soothed me.
In an unearthly habitation, a spiritual dwelling deep within me, a place where the nanomites could never go . . .
He was there.
“Oh, Jesus! Please help me! I don’t know what to do.”
Gemma, I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep. Follow my example.
“But . . .”
The nanomites’ proposed alterations terrified me, and there could be no future for Zander and me after they finished. I sobbed again for the loss of Zander’s love.
Listen to me, little one. Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid to take this step. I am with you always, even to the end of this age. My plans and purposes are at work in you.
I wasn’t able to let go right away. Another hour crept by, and I still hadn’t made my choice. I knew what I had to do, what I must do, but I couldn’t bring myself to voice it.
I was weaker now. The nanomites weren’t pressuring me. Although time was running short, they waited in patient silence.
Well, Jesus had struggled, hadn’t he? He had prayed for his Father to spare him. He had wanted to run from what he’d been sent to do.
But he hadn’t run.
I sniffled. Sighed. “All right. If . . . if you say so, Jesus, I guess I can do this. Like Emilio chose to trust me, despite everything in his past, I-I, too, can choose to trust. To trust you.”
My shoulders shuddered as relief, release, and serene respite flowed over me. Into me. I inhaled deep, freeing breaths.
“Thank you.”
More minutes passed before I wiped my face and scrubbed my eyes dry. I climbed to my feet, dusted my scraped, torn clothes, and settled my heart.
“Okay, Nano. I’m ready. I accept your offer.”
Above me, along the curve of the cavern’s ceiling, the cloud flickered, swelled, and brightened. A soft hum rose and strengthened until . . . the low, melodious harmonies of the nanomites’ song split into resplendent chords that washed over me.
They were singing!
For joy!
For me!
I smiled and, as the cloud descended, I closed my eyes.
***
Gamble’s head snapped up. “What is that?”
The three men stood and trained their eyes on the edge of the cavern where they had last seen Gemma, from where a gentle, haunting melody echoed and resounded.
“It’s the nanomites,” Dr. Bickel breathed. “They are singing! I heard them when Gemma found me. Gemma hugged me, and I was overcome with emotion. They sang—just like this!”
“It’s beautiful,” Zander said, shutting his eyes to soak it in.
A scream of agony ripped the air.
“Gemma!”
Zander turned to run to her, but Dr. Bickel caught the edge of his shirt and held him fast.
“No, Reverend Cruz, no! This is what the mites warned us about: Do not interfere.”
“Let go of me!” Zander tore his shirt from Dr. Bickel’s hands—only to find himself pinioned by Gamble’s arms.
“Let go, Gamble! Let go! She needs me!”
“I’m sorry, Cruz, but the doc is right. The mites warned us to stay away. We must believe that they won’t hurt her. We have to.”
Zander spat a slang Spanish phrase over his shoulder.
Gamble chuckled. “Why, Pastor Cruz! Did you just curse at me?”
Defeated, Zander sagged in Gamble’s arms. “I’m forgiven, but I didn’t say I was perfect—or stupid.”
The moment Gamble relaxed his hold, Zander brought his cast up and swung it against Gamble’s jaw. Stunned, Gamble staggered and barely kept his feet. Zander bolted; he sprinted toward Gemma.
He was within a few yards of her when he collided with a pulsing wall that repelled him. He skidded on his back across the smooth rock floor, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Minutes went by before he could catch his breath, before he could sit up.
He was dizzy, still dazed, when he spied Gemma: Her skin gleamed with an iridescent glow; the glow brightened and shimmered with silver flecks that danced about her. He tried to get to his feet, but was pushed down and prevented from standing. He tried to crawl toward her, but could make no headway.
For thirty minutes, he watched the lights pulsating over and through Gemma. Then she folded in on herself and slowly, very slowly collapsed to the floor—as though she was being gently lowered rather than dropped.
She lay crumpled in a heap. The glow about her seemed to intensify, to thicken and press in. She shuddered and groaned—and Zander’s heart squeezed with her every utterance of pain.
An hour went by.
Two hours passed. Gemma did not move, and Zander could get no closer to her.
Gamble and Dr. Bickel, prevented as Zander was from moving toward Gemma, joined him. They sat beside Zander and waited.
The minutes of another hour trickled by.
“Sorry about . . . before,” Zander murmured.
Gamble shrugged “Whatever.”
No one said anything for another fifteen minutes, then Gamble huffed. “Can’t believe you sucker-punched me.”
“Can’t believe you fell for it, Special Agent Gamble.”
At the end of the fifth hour, Gemma stirred. She sat up. Got to her knees.
Stood.
***
I rose from the cold stone floor . . . blinked, and stared around me. I was still at the far edge of the cavern, but everything I looked at seemed strange. Different. Kind of 3D-movie different.
I performed an internal inventory. I felt okay, no longer shaky or weak.
Okay? Yeah. I felt good. Strong, even.
I inhaled, and a warmth poured through my body until I seemed to burn.
Tingle.
Vibrate.
Whoa.
The burn intensified, and I shook with restrained power. I swallowed hard and—
Gemma Keyes. We have a question.
“Um?” I was preoccupied, trying to assess what the mites had done to me. What was different. What had changed.
Gemma Keyes, who is with us?
“Huh?”
Someone is with us.
“I don’t . . . I don’t understand the question.”
We are six. Who is with us?
It hit me.
Oh, wow.
“Uh, Nano, it . . . it’s Jesus.”
Who is Jesus, Gemma Keyes? Why is he with us? How did he come to be with us? We are six, not seven.
Were they . . . ? Did they sound peeved?
“Um . . .” I grasped for an answer. “Well, do you remember when you asked who made me?”
Yes. Dr. Bickel made us. Who made you?
“Jesus made me, Nano, and . . . Jesus made Dr. Bickel, too.”
My reply threw them. A long, charged moment elapsed—with soft nano-hissing and chittering passing back and forth before they responded.
How did Jesus come to be with us? He was not with us before.
“No, he wasn’t. He has to be asked . . . to come in, and I, um, I asked him.” My threadbare theology was starting to shred, to wear through.
Is he to be a tribe with us?
“No; that is, I don’t think so. He is his own tribe. A very powerful tribe—I think it’s more that we join his tribe than the other way around.”
The mites were quiet, probably trying to figure out how to react to the “new guy.” While they chewed on their problem, it was time for me to ask them a question.
“Nano? Did you finish with the, er, alterations?”
Yes, Gemma Keyes. After the initial destruction and discomfort, you tolerated the changes well—although we worked diligently to mitigate as many unpleasant side effects as possible.
Destruction? Yeah, I supposed they had to destroy many of my cellular structures and then remake them.
We are six again, Gemma Keyes. We are now optimal.
Optimal? With your humongous numbers? I’ll bet you are.
I was filled with wonder.
And then I snapped to what they’d said: not you, but we. They said, “We are now optimal.”
I lifted my hands to examine them. As I did, the light fixtures banding the cavern flickered. Current jetted from the wavering lights and slammed into my chest. The drawn energy coursed through me and reverberated in my bones. It swelled and spread down my arms until it reached my fingertips, ready to burst forth.
I swallowed. “Wow.”
I let my eyes fall shut as I absorbed what was happening. Electricity crackled around me, infusing me with might. As my body drew power to it, I sensed the effects of the nanomites’ alterations everywhere—in every pore of my being—and began to catalogue them.
What else?
I slipped into the warehouse. A wide, bright expanse devoid of shadows and hallways greeted me. With no effort on my part, the mites’ vast knowledge and insights came to me.
The scope and magnitude of the nanomites’ alterations were making themselves known. As I tallied the recognized changes, I nodded my approval and looked beyond the cavern’s walls, past the mountain.
It was time to return Dr. Bickel to the land of the living. To deal with Cushing and Soto. To set things right.
I envisioned the battles ahead, where the war would be fought and won. I wasn’t naïve about the coming conflict, but I smiled, even laughed a little inside.
“Okay. Well, so I imagine that this—all this—is going to shift the balance of power in our favor just a teensy bit.”
I giggled. “Right, Nano?”
My question was a little joke. The nanomites’ answer was not.
The odds have shifted significantly, Gemma Keyes. We are six, and we are optimal.
We shall prevail.
~~**~~