I stopped a few feet from my friends, and they, wordless and apprehensive, studied me until Gamble asked, “What has happened, Gemma? You look . . . different.”
“Do I?” I heard Gamble from a distance. I was turned inward, listening to the mites as they spoke—and they had much to tell me. “Hearing” them felt simpler. Less “them and me,” more “us.”
While the nanomites spoke, I tried to take an internal inventory. My mind seemed much more attuned to my physical workings, and I glimpsed bodily functions that were, in many ways, abnormal. Accelerated. I didn’t query the nanomites on what I suspected, because their answers would have been irrelevant.
What was done was done and could not be reversed.
I think my friends could tell how preoccupied I was. As I focused on what the mites were saying, my companions held whispered deliberations.
Dr. Bickel, his observations slow and thoughtful, said, “If the nanomites freed all their printed fellows, I calculate that the nanocloud is much larger than it was before—on the order of seven times the previous size.”
He struggled to reach a conclusion and put it into words. “Hmmm. Yes. See here, if we rightly consider the increased size of the nanocloud and factor in the conjoined computing functionality of all its members, we would be mistaken to view the nanomites in terms of mere ‘additive’ strength.”
“Additive strength? Explain, please,” Zander demanded.
“Certainly. I’m saying that rather than supposing the cloud to be stronger than it was previously simply by the addition of seventeen trillion nanomites to its original three trillion for a total of twenty trillion or more, we should, instead, ascribe exponential wherewithal to the nanocloud.”
“You said the cloud is ‘seven times the previous size.’ Does that make the nanomites ‘seven times’ more powerful than before?”
“That is multiplicative. I said, exponentially greater: that is, not seven times its original might, but seven to the seventh power. Approaching a million times more powerful.”
“What? But, what does that mean for Gemma?”
“The sheer numbers are one matter; we must wait and see how those numbers affect Gemma. The more concerning issue is how the nanocloud—the gestalt of the whole—functions in that exponentially greater manner—and how their greater functions impact Gemma.”
“But . . .” Zander didn’t finish, and I felt his eyes on me.
Changes. I glimpsed those changes. Felt them. The mites had called them “alterations”—deeply fundamental modifications at the molecular level. Put that way, they sounded horrific. Experientially—what I was experiencing—those changes were not horrific or scary. They were . . . powerful.
We. We were powerful. I was still figuring out how much and in what ways.
But what would Zander think? Would he be appalled? Would he pull back from me in fear? In disgust and loathing?
Then I remembered, and my heart fell. I would never have a life apart from the nanocloud. As part of the nanocloud, I was no longer my own being.
Did Zander’s feelings matter anymore? No.
Zander started to come closer, but I shook my head, and he stopped. I looked down and sighed before answering his earlier question.
“Dr. Bickel is right; the nanomites did cut and activate all the printed mites on the wafers, and very few of them died in the process.” I glanced up at my friends. “Counting the nanomites that survived the Taser’s shockwave and the damaged mites they were able to save and repair, the nanocloud numbers at close to twenty-one trillion.”
Cocking my head, I drew on newer, updated numbers and corrected myself. “The exact count as of this moment is 21.786 trillion.”
I stared at Zander. Only hours before, this man had declared his love for me—and I for him—and we had sealed that declaration with a kiss. What must I tell him under these changed circumstances?
“I’m so sorry, Zander.”
He licked his lips and chose his words with care. “Why are you sorry? What have they done to you?”
“They kept me from dying.”
Zander’s relief caused him to swallow. “So, you’re all right? They’ve healed your body?”
I looked down, then away, and wiped a hand across my eyes to hide the moisture that leaked from them. Tiny flashes and flickers followed my fingers.
“I’m glad that they saved your life and all, but what’s that?” Gamble demanded, coming closer, drawing even with Zander. “What’s with the sparky stuff?”
“The nanomites had to make . . . additional modifications.”
Gamble shifted from one foot to the other. “Additional modifications? You mean, modifications to you?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Why did they need to make more changes?”
Zander and I ignored Gamble’s question and locked eyes. I wouldn’t have been surprised had Zander’s gaze bored a hole through me, so intense and penetrating was his look.
And angry.
He pinched his lips together so as not to give voice to his anger.
Gamble, however, wasn’t finished asking questions. “The mites haven’t made you invisible again. Have they decided that they don’t need to keep you hidden?”
Wondering the same thing, I focused within. When I received the answer, I shrugged. “It isn’t necessary at this moment. When it is needed, we will hide ourselves.”
There it was. That “we” business. Again.
My friends’ expressions signaled how creepy I sounded.
Gamble was like a dog worrying a bone. He kept prodding me. “What changes, Gemma? Be specific.”
“Too many to list. And I haven’t figured them all out, but . . .”
“But?”
I stood straighter. I had agreed to the alterations. I had accepted the conditions those changes implied—those “deeply fundamental changes at the molecular level.” I had chosen to accommodate the nanocloud, because to not accept their offer meant certain death.
In a strange way, I hadn’t been afraid to die at that point—not that I was looking forward to it, mind you—but the terror that had grabbed hold and shaken me so hard earlier? Well, it was gone. In its place dwelled a whispered promise.
I have placed you in my hand, Gemma. You are safe there. No one can take you from me.
Jesus.
What Jesus had spoken to me in my despair held like an anchor dug deep and cemented in my soul. His assurance, his firm and sure pledge, had driven out the terror of death. I was surprised at the love that had replaced the terror.
His love felt . . . Well, it felt complete.
Perfect.
Oh, yeah: Perfect love casts out fear. Aunt Lu had whispered that line over me as a child when I’d suffered from nightmares and the wounds of rejection. So many things she’d said in years gone by were surfacing, bubbling up and making their way from the deep wells of my memories into my present needs.
Jesus.
I smiled a little to myself. Who’d have thought? I’d done all I could do, run as fast and as far as I could go, put as much distance between him and me as possible—and it hadn’t counted one iota.
Jesus.
I’d bad-mouthed him, derided him, ridiculed him, and pushed him away—and yet, when I was falling, he’d reached out and rescued me. Every method I’d employed to keep him out of my life had not mattered.
At the lowest, the frailest ebb of my tide, he’d saved me.
And I had been afraid of what the nanomites had said they must do, terrified of going through the alterations they had described, appalled at what those changes implied. But at the very moment of decision, that other voice—not the nanomites, but Someone of newer acquaintance—had spoken his reassurance.
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.
The wonder of it—of him—was higher and sweeter than I could have imagined.
He has plans and purposes for me? I hadn’t stopped to consider what that meant.
“Gemma?”
I knew Gamble and Zander were waiting for me to answer—from a distance I heard them—but I’d closed them out while I pondered those hours when I’d debated the nanomites’ offer, the assessment they had presented.
We submit that only one tolerable choice exists, Gemma Keyes.
I had consented to their offer so I could live—but not only for my own benefit: I needed to live for Emilio’s sake. Soto had warned me. I will find you—but first I’ll find those you love.
Maybe I wasn’t afraid to die, but Emilio’s life was another consideration altogether.
Then, even with Jesus’ assurances in my heart, I’d further delayed giving the mites permission to proceed. I’d taken time to mourn for what would be lost: Zander.
“Gemma.”
I looked up. “Yes?”
Zander touched my hand. “Where did you go?”
“Just thinking.”
“Why did you say you were sorry a minute ago?”
Zander is a brave man; I knew he preferred to face life head on, with no sugarcoating. Still, a flicker of fear found its way to his question.
Comprehending that our conversation had gone in a personal direction, Gamble cleared his throat and stepped back. He joined Dr. Bickel, and they looked on as silent witnesses to our painful exchange.
“I-I’m sorry because I told you that I loved you, Zander.”
“I told you first, Gemma. And I do. I love you. And I know you return my love. Now that you have given your life to Christ, there’s no reason for us to withhold our love and commitment to each other.”
I lifted my chin, having already cried, grieved, and worked my way through this conversation many times before giving the nanomites the go-ahead. I knew what I had to say. I was prepared.
“No, I’m afraid there is a reason, Zander, and I’m so sorry.”
He stiffened but remained calm. “A reason we can’t be together? What reason? Tell me.”
I nodded. “You know what Dr. Bickel said before, how the nanomites and I were irreversibly joined, that if they died, I would die, too.”
“Yes, but—”
I placed a finger to my lips to gently shush him. “Please. There’s more. You need to understand the choice I made and why.”
Hands on his hips, he glanced away and then back. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“So, the nanomites. They freed all the printed mites, and the nanocloud has grown much larger. You saw them. When I told you that they’d called me to a confab, that they’d asked me to meet them over here, you asked me how they could be over here if they were inside of me. Turns out that their numbers couldn’t all ‘fit’ inside of me. Some of them remained in me to keep me alive, but they . . . that arrangement was only temporary. Could only be temporary.
“You see, the mites require a human host—for lack of a better word—but in order for the nanocloud to function at its optimal capacity, the nanomites must be together. They hate being separated; they need to be together, and they need a human to provide a hospitable environment, but they couldn’t all fit in me.
“At the same time, because they view me as one of their tribes, they could not accept that I would die—anymore than they would consent to the death of another tribe. So, they offered me the only alternative they could: They offered to further mutate my body to accommodate the larger nanocloud.”
He shook his head. “No.”
I sighed softly. Patiently. “Zander, if the mites had left me, I would be dead. At this moment. Dead. Do you get that?”
He flinched a little, but said nothing. I let him ponder the facts. After a few moments, he asked, “Can you explain what they did, Gemma?”
This was the part I dreaded, the place where the ugly truth would be spoken.
“You know how bones grow?”
“Yeah, I think so. Some cells grow new bone; others break down the older bone to be replaced by the new.”
I nodded. “The nanomites needed a means of fusing themselves to areas of my organic physiology. They broke down . . . and destroyed segments of my molecular structure and reassembled it. Added their nanotechnology to it.”
Zander’s fear became apparent. “So . . .”
“So, I can’t have a regular, normal life, Zander. I can’t have a husband, can’t be a wife . . .” My voice dropped to a whisper he couldn’t hear, “or a mother.”
My words strengthened. “I am part of the nanocloud; I will never be alone, never be separate from them. We are six tribes, one nanocloud.”
Zander was, as I had expected, appalled—and I understood his revulsion. If it hadn’t been for the reassurances I’d heard via that small but powerful voice, if that Someone hadn’t assured me that all would be well, I might have elected death instead.
I stared into his horrified face, and added the kicker. The clincher.
“I’m not really human anymore, Zander.”
Zander shook his head and refused to surrender. “‘Not really human?’ I can’t accept that! And what does that mean, anyway?”
I bent cold, heartless eyes on him, ending all debate. “It means we can’t be together, Zander. Ever.”
~~**~~