Specimen(60)
“We have no idea what modifications Dr. Grace incorporated into his treatments,” Merle says. “There’s no telling what could have an impact on him.”
“I don’t think it was the shot,” Errol says. “These readings are FUBAR.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Fucked up beyond all recognition.”
“Is that your technical opinion?”
“That’s pretty much it, yeah.”
“Can you do anything about it?” Anna asks.
“Maybe, but without access to the drug treatments and the specs from this exact implant’s construction, anything I do will be temporary.” Errol presses against the device in my neck. “Do you think you could remove the implants surgically?”
“Not without killing him,” she says. “These are meant to be permanent.”
“Hell if I know what else to do. I’ll go over the diagnostic data, but that’s going to take time.”
“Make it quick,” Merle says. “We can’t lose him. He’s far too important.”
The flashes in my head increase. I can’t see. I can’t hear. A tidal wave of data inside my head smashes into me. Every memory I have ever had from the moment I was born floods into my head. A million scenes go through my mind, and then I see a brilliant white light. It blinds me from the inside until there is blackness.
Nothing but blackness.
Chapter 16
I’m fractured.
Inside my head, memories flow in and out like ocean waves, depositing bits and pieces of information on the shoreline of my psyche. Sometimes the pieces flow together and the pictures are clear, but usually there are only fragments—broken and disjointed.
The smiling face of my mother as she lifts me into her arms.
My sister, newly born, and my father instructing me on how to give her a bath.
Holding my sister’s hand as we walk to school and hoping none of my friends see us.
The deep ache in my heart when my father tells me mother isn’t coming home from the hospital.
The invasion of our land. My father and other neighbors meeting in secret. Men in suits followed by men in uniform coming to our farm and dragging my father away.
“Take care of Amelia,” he tells me. “Protect the farm. You’re the only son.”
I see myself kneeling on top of his unmarked grave, crying out, “I tried, Dad. I swear I tried, but I couldn’t stop them! I failed. I failed her, and I failed you.”
A man in a black robe, looking down on me from above.
“Galen Michael Braggs, you are hereby sentenced to life’s end. Your body will be turned over to the Mills Conglomerate Medical Center to fulfill your oath of loyalty in whatever manner they see fit.”
Fear. Unmitigated terror. I’m strapped to an operating room table. They won’t tell me what they’re going to do. I scream and scream, but no one listens.
As the memories ebb and flow, I’m aware of the world outside my head. I hear familiar voices, recognize scents, and see faces I should recognize, but I can’t make sense out of any of it.
“So, here’s what’s supposed to happen: there’s webbing—more like a chain link fence, really—that’s built around his existing memories. It acts as a set of pathways. Whenever his brain tries to access a memory, it hits the fence and is diverted back to the primary implant.”
“So all the information is still there?”
“Yes, but locked behind the fence.”
“So, what? The fence came down?”
“More like there’s a big-ass hole in it now. Everything is leaking through.”
“Is that why he’s nonresponsive?”
“I’m not inside there with him. I can’t tell you what’s going on in his head. I can only give you the results of the diagnostic.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Not with the current implants. They’d have to be replaced, if that’s even possible. I don’t think there’s any way to repair them. Even if I could, we still don’t have the right drug treatment. You can’t have one without the other. In the early trials, something like this happened. All those guys ended up incinerated. Fucking Mills.”
The sounds fade. The only scents are the stale odor of the blanket pulled up to my chest and my own body. I can’t move. I can open my eyes, but the visual input just buzzes around in my head, meaningless and vague.
Keeping my eyes closed feels better. Sleep comes, but it is as confusing and restless as being awake. There are images of a beautiful woman who holds me through the pain of transformation. The touch of her skin electrifies me. I know the woman is Riley. I want to grab hold of her and never let go, but the thought frightens me as much as it entices me.