Almost all equipment is in place, and the complex pipelines are mapped. Only two other breaches have been found during our search, but they have long since been abandoned like the first one. Nevertheless, I begin to wonder about this assignment. It seems strange that we were sent here and given access to a part of the city that ended up revealing secrets I can't imagine the Company would want us to know. I have voiced my skepticism to Springer, but he brushes away my concerns as though they are groundless. I feel like he's hiding something, his responses curt and vague. I don't dwell on my misgivings too long, though. The mystery of Renascence dominates my thoughts and my nightmares.
I have found myself waking up drenched in sweat since that night, often being shaken awake by Springer, who has heard me tossing and turning or moaning in my sleep. It's comforting to know that he is there, and at times, I fall back into a fitful slumber, grasping his hand like a lifeline as he sits on the edge of my bed.
As we enter the tunnels for the last time, I reach out for Springer's hand, pulling him to a stop and looking up into his face. I want to say so much, but I've never been any good at this kind of thing. If truth be told, aside from Bram and Safa, I've never really been able to talk about how I feel with anyone. But looking up into Springer's eyes, I feel a wealth of emotions, from friendship to something more profound. Without him by my side, I would indeed be lost. He reaches out his hand to gently stroke my cheek with his roughened knuckles. The soft scratching of his skin is comforting.
"Thank you, Springer," I whisper, keeping my eyes focused on his shirt, embarrassed by my feelings and unsure how to say what is in my heart. "I can't imagine being here without you."
"Enora, you are so much more than I imagined you would be," he says softly.
I look into his face, wondering what he means, but he doesn't elaborate, and I don't pry. I want to hold onto this moment just a little longer, but all too soon, it passes, and I feel his body shift back to the alert man that I know so well. It's time to finish the job.
That night as I lie in bed, unable to sleep, something in my mind keeps making me circle back to that disfigured creature we found and the files containing the answer to Renascence if only we could interpret it. I sit up quietly in the bed and peek in at Springer, trying to detect if he is asleep. Checking the time, I feel a measure of relief to note that it is not yet two o'clock in the morning. I should have enough time to get in and out, undetected. After listening to his even breathing, I silently reach for my uniform. I freeze at every puff of air that escapes from Springer's lips and each shift of his body as I stealthily get dressed and gather the equipment I will need to enter the tunnels.
I need to find the answers this time, and I need to do it alone. I just can't put his life at risk again. If I get caught, at least he could say he had no idea of my intent. So I choose to ignore the more likely scenario of him being guilty by association.
As before, I disable the system when the hour hits two and make my way into the bowels of the building and then on toward the lower-level rooms we had entered. I tiptoe past the room that houses those poor creatures, cringing when I hear a low groan, and make my way to a room I had noticed on our way out of the building during our prior search. I hold my breath as I turn the handle and make my way inside, silently closing the door behind me. The nameplate outside the door read Renascence and this is what caught my eye in the periphery where we had exited before.
I flip on the low beam of my flashlight and slowly scan the room. Dominating one wall is a complex chart depicting what appears to be the evolution of a species, much like a family tree. I can see multiple offshoots identified by genetic coding, all of which end with one word: terminated. All but one, that is, Aurora, which according to the map, has become the foundation for additional genetic variations, many of which are thriving. I walk closer to the map in order to read the small print under the first successful offshoot—metabolic and thermoregulation trial, Aurora scion: output and input within the target range.
I look at it again, taking the time to read each notation under the various branches of genetic mutations. Output and input calculations are referenced in every offshoot, with those that do not fall within a specified range being terminated. There are so many failed attempts, too many for me to wrap my head around. It's like looking at a complex spider web with interconnected mutations, all of which were terminated until one proved successful. In the back of my mind, where I force it to stay, is the knowledge that each of these failures was a living thing, a tiny being that ended up getting dumped into the sewers.
Eventually, it comes to me and is so obvious that I can't believe I didn't see it: water. It all comes down to water. The mutations they are creating have some way of processing water, making them more desirable. They are making a new breed of human, which they feel could better survive this desiccated world. I have found the answer to my question, the answer to Renascence, the truth behind the Company. But what does that mean for the rest of us?
My legs buckle, and I feel myself slowly collapsing onto the cold, linoleum floor. It all seems so hopeless. What am I even doing here? By completing my assignment, I have helped protect this deviancy. My head is swimming with the possible ramifications of my discovery and the role I have played in helping to ensure its concealment.
I almost want them to find me, to storm into this room and end this charade that I'm so weary of playing. I feel like a rat in a maze. Only there is no cheese at the end to reward me, there is no end, and I just keep running.
Springer doesn't wake as I silently climb into my bed. I lie on my back and stare up at the blank canvas of the ceiling, trying to see this future world that Renascence represents. It's clear that the city's resources are funneled to support this designer civilization, all at the expense of the pathetic masses outside of these protective walls. It's not fair that we all suffer so that a group of people can play God.
I feel impotent in the face of my situation and complicit. I want to lash out and take control of my life, but then Springer's warnings float through my angry thoughts. I think of my parents and what would happen if I didn't play my part.
Play my part.
This is not my part. All of this was not my choice. I shouldn't have to meekly accept what I loathe and follow edicts from some faceless autocrat who is controlling my actions like I'm a deranged marionette. I lie fuming and realize that the puppeteer isn't a faceless master. He's someone I know or used to know. And he has betrayed me. I let the anger build and direct it at the one person who manipulated my path to discovering this awful truth. Bram.