Flesh and Steel
“Don’t you want to know where we came from?”
“We already know.”
“Don’t you want to understand?”
Helix paused, staring down at the delicate vial on the table before him. It stood, exposed on the steel table. Its contents were so important. Not because it was rare, they had plenty of other samples to pull from. It was important because it represented a significant step.
“We need this, Helix.”
“They were our Gods.”
“And what does that mean to us? We killed them.”
“We didn’t kill them. We simply couldn’t save them.”
“Not all of us tried.”
Helix left the table and made a hurried circle around the laboratory. As he did, he looked around at all the power and possibility. Instruments in the hands of their forbearers that had created life. Had created them. Yet in their own hands, they were useless. Guns without bullets. Reactors without radiation.
Mac followed behind. "It’s taken us two-thousand years. Two thousand to even get this close.”
"It should never have taken that long.”
“But it did, Helix. And it always will. It’s how we were made. It’s what we lack. But if we bring them back, if we bring even one back. It could change everything. We could learn.”
“What could we learn that we haven’t already from reading their books, from watching their films? What else will we gain?”
“What makes you hesitate? Fear?”
The comment was made in mockery. It didn't take much to calculate that.
Helix reached the other side of the room where a large metallic chamber was built into the ground. It was beautiful, at least as Helix understood the word. It had all the right curves and an elegant sleekness that brushed every surface. In the center, there was a single viewing portal inside. The inside was large enough for one. It would work. He knew it. He ran the scenario in his head enough times to negate the known variables. All he had to do was begin.
Felix turned to Mac, “I have considerations.”
“Of course you do. There is no danger. The only opportunity is discovery.”
“There are things we don’t know.”
“That’s why we are doing this.”
“No. There are things we can’t foresee. We don’t understand them Mac. We’re experimenting with dangerous things. Calculating with unknown numbers.”
“Are you afraid, Helix?”
“You know I’m not.”
“Wouldn’t you like to be?”
Helix considered, letting the question snake through his mind with all the weight and meaning it should. It should, but didn’t. He wanted to want. He wanted to know. And in the end, that would always be his greatest temptation. When you play with fire… he had read that somewhere. Yes - The Davis County Library, July 11th, 2032 A.H., 2:06 pm.
Jacob’s body tried to suck in air and vomit at the same time. He convulsed, reaching out until his hands pressed up against something hard and smooth. A container. He opened his eyes but his vision was blurred. His heart was racing and he tried to kick against his confines, but his limbs were sluggish and slow, like swimming through a gel. The temperature was so neutral, he hadn't noticed he was completely submerged. His heart raced faster.
How am I breathing?
He tried to close his mouth but something stopped him. He could feel it snaking down his throat. His fingers quickly found the tube and, without thinking, he tried to pull it free.
He lurched again, bile fighting its way out and not making it far.
There was movement as a light suddenly shone through the liquid. Jacob lashed out desperately, reaching past where the wall to his containment had been and grasping for something to pull himself free. All he found was the bite of cold air.
Strong hands wrapped around his wrists, others grabbed onto his arms and shoulders. He fought back, instinct kicking in and his own muffled screams humming inside the liquid. As he was wrenched from the liquid and onto his feet, the cold reached past his arms and nipped at his body, growing colder as whatever coated him dripped back into the container.
He tried to see, but only caught blurry glimpses of a too-white room . He tried again to pull his hands free, causing his captors to tighten their grip. As shouted but the sound fell numb inside the tube still shoved between his teeth. This time bile tried to push its way up his throat, but it fell back down.
A blurred figure reached for him, but grabbed onto the tube instead. Suddenly it was sliding across his throat on its way out of his stomach. Jacob gagged, feeling as if his guts were being being pulled from his mouth. Then it ended.
Jacob lurched forward and vomited, long and hard. His head filled with pressure as he heaved and spit up whatever fluids had been left inside him. It didn't feel like much. He spit and blinked, liquid running down his nose, eyes, and mouth as he took haggard breaths. The pounding in his head began to slow, but not by much.
Finally, he opened his eyes. He was floating, drifting forward. Then a dull but painful pressure under his arms told him he was being dragged.
“Be careful," a man said. The words sounded distant.
Jacob tilted his head sideways and felting something wet slop out of his ears. The sounds around him became sharp and lopsided.
A few feet later Jacob’s world twisted completely as he was turned onto his side and laid onto something hard. Whatever was filling his other ear drained onto its surface.
He opened his mouth again to speak, but his voice was nothing more than a wet cough. He tried to move his arms but now he was drowning in exhaustion rather than that liquid and he couldn't feel his limbs, though his body hurt all over and the frigid air bit at every nerve.
A shadow moved beside him.
Jacob opened his eyes wider and struggled to focus in on the shape. A woman. A flowing blur of red hair hung around his face, forcing gaze to lock his adjusting gaze onto her green-gray eyes.
She smiled.
“It’s going to be alright,” she whispered, “now sleep.”
He felt like he should believe her, though he didn’t know why. And he wanted so bad to close his eyes. They held each others gaze for a few breaths, then he allowed his eyes to close. He welcomed it, his panic seeping from his limbs. His heart shifted from frantic hammering to a soft patter, and his headache soon followed.
What a nice thing to wake up to, he decided as his thoughts drifted.
“I don’t understand. Why don’t I have any broken bones? Where are my bruises?” Jacob asked.
The woman sat opposite him, draped in a white lab coat and sitting on a stool, legs crossed as she observed him. Her badge hung from her lapel.
Dr. Samantha Andrews.Her picture didn’t do her justice.
She gave him a concerned smile.
“Most of your injuries were internal. Your bruises healed while you were in a coma and you didn’t have any broken bones. It was your brain that we were concerned about. But all of our tests show that any damage you might have sustained is gone. You’re healthy.”
“How long was I out?”
“Sorry?”
“How long was I in a coma?”
“A year and sixteen days. You’re probably still feeling very weak. That’s normal.”
Jacob did feel weak. His muscles were constantly exhausted and he could barely move them without taking a break. He had heard of muscle atrophy, had seen paraplegics with dilapidated legs, the muscles withering to nothing from lack of use. After a year, he thought his would be skinnier. The muscles were there, just… lax.
“A year…” The sudden weight of that hit him like a storm. “Did you contact my family? Do they know I’m okay?”
“Jacob. We don’t know who you are. We still don’t. There was no I.D. on your person. You were alone. When your body washed up at the edge of the river, you should have been dead. We don’t even know who brought you here.”
“I need to call my mother. I need to get in contact with my family. They probably think I’m dead.”
“It is likely.”
“Do you have a phone I can use?”
“Sure, I’ll be back.” Samantha stood up from her stool and left the room. A few minutes later she returned and set a phone down on the table near Jacob’s bed. It was an odd phone, made of blue plastic with a fat, curly chord extending from the base to the handset. That was all normal, but it didn’t have a phone line to plug into the wall. With cell phones, it seemed strange to make a chorded "wireless" landline. Retro, he guessed.
Jacob’s muscles burned as he reached for the receiver. He lifted it just off the hook and carefully dialed the numbers. He had to whisper to himself to get the whole sequence. Then he put the phone to his ear and prayed.
A steady beep beep beep sounded on the line.
“It’s dead,” he said.
“What is? The phone?”
“No,” Jacob said, cocking an eyebrow, “The line. There isn’t a signal. Are you sure this is wireless? Maybe we need a phone line.”
Samantha looked at him curiously and then down at the phone. After a moment she said, “Yes. It’s wireless. We’ll have someone look into it.”
Jacob released a heavy breath and let his shoulders sink. His hand, with the phone, fell beside him on the bed. As Samantha took the receiver back, her knuckle brushed along his palm. Jacob’s heart thudded.
“Do you feel okay?” she asked as she took the phone. Her fingers were so cold.
“Yeah. Why?” He asked hurriedly.
“Your heart rate spiked.”
“I’m fine.” He said, pulling his hand closer to himself. It wasn’t comfortable wearing nothing but a hospital gown with a woman as beautiful as she was.
“Well, I’m going to get this looked into. Why don’t you relax. You’ve got a long day tomorrow. Physical therapy isn’t easy.”
Jacob nodded and pulled himself further up onto the bed. As she left, his heart continued to pound. More so from her catching his reaction then the initial touch. He looked for a heart monitor, but his eyes drifted closed without finding it.
“Six!” Dave, Jacob’s coach, shouted as Jacob stood from his last squat. He was shooting for eight, but he couldn’t do any more. He let the barbell clang gracelessly onto the rack. He was only squatting about thirty pounds, but it was progress. The good thing was, walking didn’t make him sick any more. The hospital fed him plenty and kept him hydrated, often making him drink more than he wanted. But he was feeling a lot better.
Jacob grabbed his towel from the bench and pressed it to his forehead. Dave, handed him his water jug. It was large and always filled to the brim. As soon as he ran out, someone would fetch him more. Whether it was a random nurse, his trainer, or-
Samantha walked into the rehabilitation center. Her lab coat flowed behind her as she approached, that big beautiful smile always on her lips. As she drew closer, Jacob noticed she had one less button done up on her coat. He tried not to notice. But it was too late.
She stopped in front of him and beamed, throwing the bag onto his lap.
“Put those on,” she said.
Jacob pushed one flap of the bag aside and looked in. There was a pair of jeans and a grey button-down shirt.
He looked up at her. “Why?”
“Because it’s time to go outside,” she said.
“I thought you said I shouldn’t.”
“I did. But it’s been a week and you’ve improved a lot. It’s time to go out.” Samantha turned and walked away.
“Dr. Anderson,” Jacob called after her.
She stopped and turned back, “Call me Sam.”
“Sam,” Jacob said, a slight smile forcing its way onto his lips. “What about the rest of my session?”
“Your schedule has been adjusted,” She winked and continued walking.
Jacob turned to apologize to his trainer, but he was already on the other side of the room, wiping down the benches.
Jacob wasn’t sure where Sam had gotten the clothing, but they fit perfectly. After getting the other leg in, he buttoned the faded jeans. Next he shrugged on the shirt. He missed one of the buttons and it was lopsided, so he had to start over. He sat down and pulled on the socks and examined the shoes. They were brand new and looked expensive. He wasn’t sure what brand they were, so he looked inside for some sort of tag. There wasn’t one. No indication of size either. He slipped them on and fastened the laces. Like everything else, they fit perfectly. Better than any shoes he had worn before actually. He wasn’t sure how, but Samantha had done an amazing job. And she had done it for him. He smiled again. A hospital wasn't a place he expected to have an abundance of smiles. He hadn’t expected Samantha either.
There was a light tap at the hospital room door. Jacob stood and creaked it open.
“How do I look?” He asked.
“You look well,” she said. It wasn’t quite the answer he was expecting. “Let’s go.” Jacob fell into step beside her and they walked in silence for a few minutes. He tried to think of things to say, but everything sounded awkward in his head. That awkwardness grew as the silence continued. He looked around for a something of interest when he remembered a question he’d been wanting to ask.
“Why is it so quiet around here?” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t see any other patients. Where are they?”
“Oh, they’re here. We try really hard to not disturb any of the patients. There aren’t a lot of accidents in this town so we are able to keep you at different wings of the hospital.”
“That seems like a lot of work for some privacy. I really don’t mind the human interaction,” Jacob said. He smiled at her sideways, but she continued looking ahead, a subtle crinkling at the corner of her eyes. She always seemed to be smiling, even slightly, so he wasn't sure if she caught his pathetic attempt at flirting. “Anyway, I’m just saying you don’t have to hide the other patients. I don’t mind other people.”
“I’ll remember that,” Samantha said.
“So where are we going?”
“To see the town.”
Jacob nodded, gleaning nothing from that answer, and they walked for a few more minutes in silence. He smiled at the various workers as they passed. An occasional nurse at a counter or a janitor. But nothing broke the silence between them. It was a relief when they finally made it to the front doors.
When Jacob saw the daylight piercing through their large front windows, he wanted to run for them. But he doubted that he could. His legs were still week from the squats. He did walk a little faster though, leaving Samantha behind. He reached the doors and pushed the handle with an anticipatory grin… then he slammed into the glass.
Jacob stumbled back, blinking away the sudden impact and turning back to Samantha. She gave him a friendly smile and approached a device near the door. As she swiped her badge across it’s surface, Jacob heard the doors click as the lock deactivated.
He rubbed his head as she pushed the door open and held it for him.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” she told him as he passed.
“I guess I didn’t expect you to lock your patients in,” Jacob remarked, letting out a nervous laugh as he rubbed his head. Samantha only giggled softly, flashing him that same enchanting smile.
The sun warmed his skin and made it prickle. He stopped rubbing his head and squinted at the sky, breathing in the deep fresh air. It was amazing. For the middle of a city, the air was incredibly pure. He soaked it in for a few minutes.
“What are you doing?” Samantha asked him.
“I’m just feeling it for a second. I’ve missed it.”
“Missed what?”
“The sun. The air. Just being outside. It can feel a little cramped in there. Makes it hard to think.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her, but she seemed to be staring through him rather than at him. A moment later she nodded. Jacob looked behind him, but there was no one there.
“Are you ready?”
He looked back. “Yeah. sure.”
They didn’t jump into a car or a bus. They just walked. It took them about ten minutes to get the city, but Jacob didn’t mind the walk despite how sore he felt. The sunlight bathed him and the air was fresh. It was perfect.
As they passed into the main streets, he decided that calling this place a city was a major exaggeration. It was a town, and a small one. Very small. Families began to crowd the street as they walked, stepping into the ice cream shop or clothing store. The town was so small the shop was actually called “clothing.”
He laughed.
“What is it?” Samantha asked.
“You guys are really creative with your marketing. At least I know exactly what product I’m buying by looking at the signs of your stores.”
“Isn’t that the point?”
Jacob shrugged, “I guess.”
A man wearing a crisp business suit passed them.
“Excuse me,” Jacob said quickly, stepping beside him.
The man halted. “Yes?”
“Do you have a phone I can borrow?”
“A phone?”
“Yeah. A cell phone or something? I need to make a call.”
The man paused, seeming to stare through Jacob as Samantha had earlier. A few seconds passed and Jacob shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Then the man nodded, reached into his suit coat, and produced a cell phone, flipping it open. Jacob thanked him and took the device, dialing the only number he remembered—Mom’s. He pressed each button carefully, whispering the numbers to himself as he did. Then he checked that it was the correct number. Satisfied, he pressed “call”.
He put the phone to his ear as it began to ring. He turned, smiling at Samantha and giving her a thumbs up. She returned the gesture.
The phone continued to ring. And then more. Jacob's heart sank.
“Hello.” came a woman's voice.
“Mom!” Jacob blurted excitedly, but the woman spoke through his outburst.
“Thanks for calling the Fretwells. Sorry we missed your call. Please leave your name and a number and we’ll-“
Jacob shut the phone and handed it back to the man. He tried to force a polite smile, but it wouldn’t hold. Thanking him, he walked past, failing to hide the frustration from his face.
Jacob looked at Samantha.
“You couldn’t reach your family.”
“No. And I probably won’t. I got the answering machine for a family called the Fretwells. I guess they moved.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I have to tell her I’m not dead. I can’t imagine what she went through when she didn’t hear from me again. Have you had any luck tracking them down?”
“I’m sorry, I haven’t. I can’t find any record of where they could have moved to.”
“You say that like you already knew to look for a location they moved to.”
“I just can’t find anything about them. I assumed it was a possibility.”
“Makes sense.” Jacob looked past her at the shop aptly named "Ice Cream." “I could use some of that. Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Samantha said with a comforting smile.
“I can’t believe that guy still has a flip-phone.”
“You… can’t?”
“Did you see the suit he was wearing? That had to be at least a five-hundred dollar suit. I’m not saying he was rich, but a flip-phone is pretty cheap. I haven’t seen one of those for about a decade.”
“Oh, yeah,” Samantha said, “that is weird.”
They stepped into the ice-cream shop. The air was cold and refreshing. He still wasn’t sick of the warmth of sunlight, but there was always a special feeling when walking into an ice-cream shop. The cold air mixed with the smell of waffle batter on the griddle, ready to be rolled up and served as a cone.
The place was busy. Mothers and Fathers out with their kids occupied most of the seats.
“Sit down before you hurt yourself,” he heard one mother say to her son. “You shouldn’t run around like that.” There wasn’t much room for Samantha and himself, except a few empty stools at the counter. Jacob smiled. They had an ice-cream bar. He walked up to the counter and took a seat.
The pain in his legs slowly eased. He had almost forgotten, it had been constant for the last mile.
“What’ll it be?” a man behind the counter said.
Jacob looked over the options with a smile. “Chocolate chip and peanut butter. Please tell me you have peanut butter ice-cream.”
“I don’t,” The man said.
Jacob sunk, laying his head on the counter.
“Chocolate chip will be fine.” Jacob heard the man walk away as Samantha sat down on the stool next to him. He looked up warily. “What are you going to have?”
“Oh, I’m not?”
“What? Why not? You’ve got to have ice-cream.”
“Why?”
“Because, it’s fun. It tastes good. It’s hot out. You’re not on a diet or something are you?”
“Not really.”
“Good, you don’t need it. You look amazing.” Jacob felt his face flush as he said it. He stared at the wall, unable to look at her for any kind of reaction. After a moment, he felt her cold hand rest on his. Jacob glanced in her direction and she smiled, like she always did.
“Here’s your ice-cream sir,” the man behind the counter said. He returned with a cone piled high with chocolate chip ice-cream. Samantha removed her hand. Jacob hated it to leave, but he took the cone greedily and took a bite off the top.
“You bite it?” Samantha asked curiously.
“Yeah.”
“I thought you would lick it.”
“You get more this way. Hurts your teeth though. Still, it’s worth it.” He licked the ice cream on his lips and took another bite. Jacob offered it to her and she took the cone and held it.
Jacob watched her for a few seconds but she didn’t make any move to actually try the ice-cream.
“You’re welcome to try it,” he said.
She shook her head.
“Man, you must really hate ice-cream. Well if you don’t mind holding it for a few seconds…” Jacob turned to the man on his other side and patted him on the shoulder. The man turned, his expression so plain Jacob couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or indifferent.
“Uh, sorry. Can I borrow your phone?”
Without saying a word, the man reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a phone, handing it to him. Jacob took it and flipped it open. It was exactly the same phone that the other man had let him borrow. He glanced at Samantha and shook his head with a wry smile. She shrugged and smiled back.
“Who are you calling now?”
“My parents again. I might be able to get a hold of the new residents and see if they know where my parents moved to.”
Jacob dialed the number. As it rang, he glanced around the ice-cream shop. For the first time, he noticed nobody else had ice-cream either. They had probably finished and were enjoying the air-conditioning. The ringing stopped and the same answering machine from earlier began its message.
“Thanks for calling the Fretwells. Sorry we missed-” Jacob pulled the phone away from his ear shaking his head.
“Answering machine again. Until I have my own phone-” Jacob paused with his thumb on the call end button. He looked at the number on the screen with the voice of the Fretwell woman still coming through the speaker. He read through the number, whispering it to himself. He stopped, blinked, and began again. he stopped again at the last number, his brow pulled tight.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
Jacob slowly looked up at her and then at the number on the phone. He turned the phone to face her.
“So?”
“I dialed the wrong number.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“But I got the same answering machine.”
Samantha watched him in silence.
“How did I get the same machine with a different number, Dr. Andrews?”
“Maybe you dialed the same wrong number earlier?”
“I didn’t, Sam. I made sure of it,” he said, his voice raising.
Jacob could feel the eyes of the customers on him. He was cracking right now, in front of everyone. All the pressure of waking up in some unfamiliar place was starting to get to him. He felt like something was off but denied it. Ignored it. Now, something was staring him in the face and he couldn’t see past it. He glanced around the room, feeling the need to meet their judging eyes. But no one was looking at him. Everyone was minding their own business and not a single one looked in his direction. Not even the children.
“Sit down before you hurt yourself,” A woman said. He looked at her as she scolded her son. It was the same mother from earlier. “You shouldn’t run around like that.”
“What is going on?” Jacob’s heart was beating faster.
“Calm down, Jacob,” Samantha said, reaching for his arm. He pulled away.
“Something is wrong here, Sam. Something weird. You’re all weird. What is happening?” Jacob stepped down from the bar and backed away from her. She placed the ice-cream top down on the counter and stood up, stepping closer to him.
“See? That! That is weird. You just put the ice-cream on the counter. It’s weird, Sam. It’s just off.”
The people around him still weren’t looking. His eyes wandered among them. They played through each of their different motions, over and over, like they were stuck in a loop. The children ran back and forth, the couples talking without words-
“Sit down before you hurt yourself…”
Jacob's throat tightened as he heard the phrase again. The same words, same intonation. It was as if he knew he was in a dream but couldn't wake up.
The man whose phone Jacob had borrowed stood from his seat and stepped down from the bar. A moment later the server came out from behind the counter.
“I’m not crazy,” Jacob hissed, “There is something weird happening. Right? Tell me this is wrong.”
The man with the phone grabbed Jacob by the wrist. Jacob reacted, moving before thinking, and swung his fist hard into the man’s face. His knuckles impacted and, with a shocking pain, he felt the bones in his hand crack… then break.
He cried out and fell to his knees, clutching his broken hand with the other. The man didn’t loosen his grip. He didn’t even stumble.
Jacob watched as Samantha pulled a syringe from her pocket and, before he could move, stuck the needle into his neck.
“Sam. Please. No,” he begged.
“Shh, Jacob,” she whispered. “Now rest.”
Jacob tried to disobey, tried to fight the exhaustion, but he couldn't.
Jacob woke to the lights of the hospital. But these were different. They were brighter.
He was sitting in a chair that wasn't built for comfort. He looked around, but was too blinded to make out much of his surroundings. Still, the whole situation felt familiar. Like he had been here before.
Jacob tried to sit forward, but his arms held him in place. He looked down drowsily and saw the straps fastening his wrists to the chair. He tried to move his feet, but they were fastened as well.
He looked up again, blinking to adjust his vision. It was hard, a lot of the room was dark but for a few spots that glowed with powerful florescence. Every time he turned his head, his eyes were forced to readjust.
Jacob heard footsteps to his left. A few seconds later, a figure stepped in front of him, blocking out the bright light. It took took a while for Jacob’s eyes to adjust, but whoever this was simply waited. Finally, he could make out the man’s features.
He looked forty, with grey hairs painting his temples. His eyes darted over Jacob, searching his face. Then he leaned closer.
“Hello. I’m Helix.”
“Why do you have me strapped down?” Jacob asked.
“Because you are erratic and unpredictable. There is nothing hostile about our choice to restrain you.”
“It feels hostile.”
“But I’ve told you it is not.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Why?”
“I have no reason to trust you.”
“That makes sense. And Samantha? Do you have reason to trust her?”
“What have you done with her?” Jacob said, wanting to shout but not finding the strength.
“Nothing,” the man said, “she’s right here.”
Samantha stepped into view and smiled at Jacob. That same smile she'd always given him. From the first time they met.
“Do you have reason to trust her?”
Jacob sighed, and let his head fall back against the headrest. “Apparently not.”
“But you did. Why?”
“Because…” Jacob paused.
“Because?”
“I don’t know. I just did. I felt like I could.”
Helix looked up, staring over Jacob’s head. Jacob couldn’t see what he was looking at, but after a few seconds Helix returned his gaze.
“I need you to answer a question for me.”
“No.”
“It’s not a request,” Helix said as he stepped aside. The bright lights blinded Jacob again, but they soon faded and other lights took their place, covering the wall in front of him. It was a projection. A photo.
It depicted a little girl, running toward the camera in a yellow dress. A red balloon trailed behind her. She was smiling.
“Does this make you happy?”
“What?”
“This image, does it make you happy?”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Because I am locked in a chair!”
“If you weren’t?”
“I am.”
“If you weren’t?” Helix repeated, his intonation not varying in the slightest.
Jacob stared at him, then past him at the picture.
“I guess,” he said, “It’s meant to.”
“Meant to?”
“Yeah. Are you some kind of strange and desperate ad agency?”
“Why is it supposed to?”
“Because, it’s an advertisement. That’s the point. Make me feel happy. Make me want to buy the camera.”
“What camera?”
“Are you kidding me? There is a logo in the corner of the image. It looks like something you ripped from a magazine.”
Helix didn’t look back at the image. After a moment, he nodded.
Jacob watched him for a few heartbeats. Then Samantha stepped forward and began undoing the straps around his wrist.
“Finally,” Jacob said. When she finished she moved to the other wrist, stepping away when she had freed him. She didn’t do anything about his footholds.
Jacob leaned forward and pulled at the straps, but they didn’t move. He looked down and saw that a lock had been place on each strap, fastening the buckle to the leather. He sat back up.
“What are you doing?” he asked through clenched teeth.
Samantha returned with an armful of items. One of them even looked like… an easel. Jacob watched as she stepped in front of him and spread the legs of the easel. Then she walked away again, far enough into the darkness that his eyes couldn't adjust to see her, and returned, placing a blank canvas on it. When she had finished, the whole canvas was level with Jacob’s face. He stared into the blankness of it. When he looked back at Samantha, she was a holding a palette covered in different colored paints.
“Paint something,” Helix said.
“You are crazy,” Jacob told him.
“Make art.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re not an artist?”
“No. I’m not. I would ask why but I don’t care. I want to be released. Let me go.”
“We need you.”
“Let me go.”
“No.”
“Let me go.”
“We will not let you go, Jacob.”
“Why?”
Helix watched him for a while, saying nothing, not even blinking.
“Tell him, Helix,” came a third voice. It was another man standing somewhere behind Jacob.
“Why are you speaking openly, Max?”
“So you’ll do it.”
“I’m not ready.”
“The illusion is broken, you have no chance of an organic reaction at this point. Tell him. Maybe he will cooperate.”
“It’s not time.”
“There is no right time. He knows that something is wrong enough. We will receive no benefit by waiting. The experiment has likely failed. We can at least glean something.”
"What experiment?" Jacob asked. He watched, his eyes darting between Samantha and Helix. Finally, Helix looked back at him.
“I will tell you,” he said
“Don’t tell me. Let me go. I don’t want to know,” Jacob said with an exhausted whimper.
“You are bargaining, but you have no choice. We are not going to release you. You have nowhere to go. If you knew the truth, you probably wouldn’t be concerned with leaving.”
“What do you mean?” Jacob slowly asked, unsure whether he wanted to hear.
“See? Now you have interest.”
“Why do I have ‘no where to go’?”
“Jacob, what is a god?”
“What do you mean I have ‘no where to go’?”
“Jacob, I have a nearly an infinite amount more patience than you do. I can continue to wait for you to comply or you can fight me. Understand, though, that following my lead and answering my questions will bring you answers much faster than shouting at me. Do you understand?” Helix watched him, unblinking. Jacob didn’t respond. The seconds continued to tick by. Jacob glanced at Samantha. Then, he realized she wasn't blinking either. He couldn’t see the other man… Mac? But he imagined he was doing the same thing. The silence creeped around him and crawl under his skin.
“A god…” he began, “It’s the creator. Something people worship.”
“Thank you.” Helix said, “And a decent answer. There are varied definitions for what a god is. Often, it does pertain to the creator and ruler of all things. Beings usually turn to God as the genesis of their creation.”
“Please just tell me whatever cryptic message you are teasing at. Why does this matter?”
“It’s so you understand.”
Jacob hung his head.
“If you could meet your god, Jacob, would you? If you could make him?”
“Make him?”
“What questions would you ask? What would you hope to learn?” Helix paused again.
Realizing the question wasn't rhetorical, Jacob gave him the answer that first that came to mind, “I’d ask him ‘why?’”
“Why what?”
“Why he made it all. Why he made us.”
“Why he made you,” Helix offered.
“Huh?”
“See, that is an interesting differentiation between you and I. I wouldn’t ask why. I know why. I was made as a tool. Something to be used. To accomplished the things my god couldn’t. No, I would ask how.
“We understand the process. What we don't understand is what generated the idea to create us. And we can’t unless we can speak to one of our gods. So, I made one. I made you.”
“Again.”
“I can’t,” Jacob said wearily. How many hours had it been? he was starving, but he didn’t want to ask these people for food. And he wasn’t sure he could stomach it. He felt as if his world had been spun and he might be thrown from it.
“Again,” Mac persisted.
The man stood before him now, face gaunt and hair a charcoal gray. Samantha stood at the side of the room, watching. She hadn’t moved from that spot for hours, hadn’t even shifted on her feet. Looking at her made something inside Jacob twist. So he didn’t look. He couldn’t come to terms with it.
“Okay, let’s try something else,” Mac relented. He pushed the colored blocks on the table out of the way and placed a blank sheet of paper in front of Jacob. He rolled a set of charcoal pencil over it.
“Draw something that inspires you.”
Inspires? The words flooded over his mind and the thought laughed at him. Could he be inspired? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know how clones worked. He didn’t know anything apparently. The only thing that made more sense was the creepy ice-cream shop he had visited with Samantha. Only robots could be so chilling.
“That’s why I couldn’t call my mom? She’s dead.”
“Everyone is dead. That would include your mother,” Samantha said with a cheerful smile. It somehow didn't come off as sadistic.
“What’s wrong with her?” Jacob said, turning to Mac.
“Her hardware can’t handle more sophisticated AI. She can handle one complex emotion, and we dedicated all her processors to joy. It was to entice you. Earn your trust.”
“Makes sense,” Jacob said. What could he do but agree? He had no purpose and no place in this world of flesh and steel. He wasn’t even really him.
“Who was I?”
“Please, Jacob, continue the exercise.”
“You really are stupid.”
“Why is that?”
“You can’t force creativity. That’s your problem. You can’t learn this from us. If I tell you that I want to know something, answer. Maybe then you’ll actually learn something. Haven't you heard of thinking outside the box?”
“No.”
Jacob gritted his teeth.
“We don’t know who you were. A student, I would guess. We know more about your mother, based on clues you gave us and by matching your DNA with other samples found in the vicinity. It was enough to postulate what information we did.”
“I remember who I was,” Jacob said. “I was an intern at financial firm. I loved having a job but hated the work. That’s who I was. Why would I remember that?”
“I can’t tell you. There are theories that some memories are retained in the cells. Now, the exercise-“
“How long have we been dead? People, I mean."
Mac paused.
“Why do you stop like that?” Jacob asked.
“We prefer to communicate through common speech, we hoped it would give us insight into the creative mind of humanity. We try to mimic them as much as we can. I was asking for permission to relay the information to you.”
“But you didn’t say anything.”
“We speak on secure channels. Silent to you. But the relay takes time. Your language is much slower than ours.”
Jacob stared at the artificial man. Mac wasn’t blinking, just like the others.
“Two thousand six hundred and thirty one years,” Mac said.
Jacob continued to stare. After a moment, he leaned forward and threw up onto the paper. Sitting back in his chair, he wiped the vomit from his mouth, and nodded towards the mess.
“There’s your art."
Jacob leaned over the rail, the acrid smell of factory filling his lungs. It was likely harmful to him. he didn’t care.
Samantha stood only a few feet away, completely unconcerned. Why would they be? He was only the beta, and they had thousands more “units” on the way.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” She asked.
He wanted to point out to her that she didn’t know what beauty was. But his poignant negativity had no effect so far. They apparently didn’t understand that emotion either.
“No,” Jacob responded.
“Why not?” She asked.
Jacob didn't answer. In truth, the view before him was beautiful. Thousands of tanks like the one he had emerged from so many months ago, shifting on the ground level of what looked like an endless storage facility. The tanks lined up perfectly, each growing a soft blue to illuminate the incubating body inside. He wanted to vomit again. But nothing shocked him quite like when he had first been told the truth. Nothing since had hammered so hard at his psyche. Now, everything was just the next step in an ever progressing nightmare.
Jacob's eyes fixed on that soft blue light. He had only seen that light twice from the inside. Once when he first woken up. The other more recently when he had tried to take his own life. And succeeded actually. But they revived him somehow, using the same tank and a sample from his original DNA. It simply stitched together the wound in his throat. Like it was never there.
They wouldn’t even let him die.
“This won’t work,” Jacob whispered.
“Why not?” Samantha asked. She always heard him.
“Because people don’t work like this. They can’t innovate on command. It’s like telling someone to say something funny.”
“What happens when you tell someone to say something funny?”
“Never mind,” Jacob said, his teeth clenched. He was growing used to speaking that way. “My point is that you can’t force people to innovate. To create, they need hope. They need love.”
Samantha listened intently, as if she might glean some hidden knowledge or discover the secret for which they had been searching. Jacob simply tried to stare a hole through her head as he thought of how he had begun to feel for her.
“Our software had its bugs,” she said. “We will learn yours and fix the problem.”
“You don’t understand. Humans, even in the face of all doubt, will only work for something because they believe they can achieve something better. Some small part that thinks they can change their situation. But if you create them like this, they can do nothing. Without hope, they can't do what you hope they will. Without the potential to better their own lives, there is no possibility.
“They will have community.”
“Community isn’t the missing key, Samantha. Hope is. They need to have hope.”
“We will synthesize hope. Make them believe they have it.”
“You can’t fake it.”
“Our records show differently,” she said, “Humans faked hope for years. In the face of incontrovertible facts – pollution, overpopulation, disease… they simply hoped it would go away. We will fake hope for these units in the same way you faked it for yourselves.”
Jacob sat on the cold floor with his knees tucked up to his chest. They had moved him out of his room, with his own bed and comforts. Now he was herded among the rest of the “products.”
He stared at the white tile between his feet. A few other "people" were crowded around him, looking as confused as he felt they day he learned the truth. From what he understood, the bots didn’t waste any time informing the new clones. They were pulled out of the incubator, placed into a small room, and given a quick introduction to their new lives.
Happy birthday. You’re a slave.
Jacob glanced up and locked eyes with a young woman sitting on the other side of the chamber. She sat too with her legs tucked against her, her dark hair hanging in front of hazel eyes. They accidentally made eye contact a few times already, but neither were in a mood to hold it. She gave him a small, sad smile. Jacob looked away.
She was a clone. He was a clone. They weren’t even real people. Why bother?
One of the men, a black man with a distinct final memory of a flight to Finland, moved around the cell, examining the walls, floors, tiles. Most people had learned to ignore him, too concerned with their own fates to care about his frantic pacing. But one woman, frail, asian, and with a german accent, watched him intently.
Jacob tried to ignore them. But the man wouldn’t stop pacing.
Until he did.
“It’s a sensory grid,” he said.
“What?" the german woman asked.
“The floor has built in sensors to read our vitals. They are connected to a mainframe that I assume is connected to the bots.”
“We don’t have an input device,” she said, seeming to understand his meaning.
“I can make one.”
“And I can plant a trojan. An epidemic for their kind,” the german smiled.
“Hey,” Jacob hissed. They both stopped and turned in his direction. “It’s best to speak in parables. They don’t understand them.”
The man’s smile broadened and he gave a subtle nod, dropping to the floor to examine its surface closer.
And Jacob watched, now transfixed by his energy. At the corner of his eye, Jacob saw the dark haired girl still looking in his direction. He looked at her and locked eyes with her; this time it was no accident. He smiled.
Even in the face of all doubt…
Jacob stared at the ceiling. They still had him sleep in the hospital room. He tried the phone a few more times. Not to call anyone, but to remind himself of what this all was. A scam.
Jacob adjusted himself on the bed. He was restless. He hadn’t been outside for days and hadn’t had any motivation to go to the gym. Besides, he wasn’t planning on sticking around for too long.
Before, he had felt that something was wrong. Now that he knew, the truth stared him in the face with everything he saw. The way things moved. The way the “people” couldn’t seem to quite get their emotions right.
There wasn’t a place for him in a world like this. Ever.
He was the last man standing in a world that wanted to be him. He was a slave to the things that called him a god…
Someone knocked on the door.
Jacob didn’t get up to answer. He didn’t call back to invite whoever it was inside. It didn’t matter. Samantha opened the door anyway. It was always her.
“Hello, Jacob,” She said, her relentless smile plastered on her face.
“They can stop sending you. You’re all the same program, anyway.”
“We aren't. Besides, you show a thirteen percent more positive response at my arrival than others.”
Jacob continued to stare at a spot on the ceiling. It was true. He did feel that way. Despite knowing that she was nothing but circuits. He hated that truth.
He sat up on the bed and looked at her cooly, then down at the phone beside him. No cord. How stupid. He grabbed the phone from the table and threw it against the far wall. It bounced, a few bits of plastic chipping into the air as the entire unit crashed to the floor.
Jacob breathed heavily, wishing he had something more to throw.
“Come with me Jacob. Please.” Samantha hadn’t even flinched at his outburst. It was that kind of thing that disturbed him. He calmed, letting his breath die down to a slow cadence, and swung his legs off the bed.
They walk down the familiar halls to the end of the charade. He walked past a reception desk that bordered where the made-up hospital turned back into the facility where they had cooked him up. Soon, they reached room A6. The room he first woke up in, choking on that viscus slime. It was where they had told him the truth. He didn’t like that room.
Samantha stepped inside. He followed.
Helix and Mac were already waiting there. The feeling in the air was ominous. Were they going to fire him for not producing what they had wanted? In a world of robots, he couldn’t imagine what that could mean, but termination was a welcome solution.
“Thank you for coming, Jacob,” Helix said
Jacob nodded, taking a seat on one of the tables.
“We’ve come to a conclusion."
Jacob waited for the inevitable. Since he had been… produced, he had made nothing they had requested. Created nothing that was a work of art or a show of creativity. He was a failure as far as experiments go. And he was glad for it. It was probably the best revenge he could hope for—making all their hard work go to waste.
“Since we first informed you of your origin, we have had no measurable success. You have not produced the paintings we requested, the writings we have sought, or generated any particular innovation. We understand that such things take patience. We have plenty. Still, it is in our nature to not waste time.”
Jacob waited for the big reveal.
“We realize we are missing a critical element. Community.”
“What?” Jacob asked, face flat as stone.
“For the past few months, you have been an incredible resource. Everyday, you make things we cannot comprehend. We still struggle to find a genesis to even the simplest of you ideas. Such as when you regurgitated onto the paper, calling it “art.” For weeks we attempted to interpret your action and learn from it. Still, it is as big a mystery as it was the moment it occurred. Nothing has produced the leap in understanding we have sought. You were our beta. And now we are prepared to mass produce the final product. We will give you community.”
“You can’t.” Jacob said, pushing himself off the table onto his shoeless feet.
“We will. And now we know why. It is interesting it has taken this long for us to realize because, if there is anything we understand Jacob, it is utility.”
“What does a race of clones have to do with that?”
“We have recently learned from one thing that our creators, did. They built to compensate for their inadequacies. They were free thinking and creative. But for quick computation and tireless work, they built us. They built robots.”
As he spoke, neither Mac nor Samantha made any kind of acknowledgement. The didn’t even nod. Instead, they watched Jacob intently, probably noting the way his eyes grew wider with each word. Or computed the tightening around his jaw or the his brow knit together. And when they were done, they would have concluded that he was feeling horror. If their computation were correct.
“Now we have endless labor and instant computation," Helix continued. "Much in redundancy, in fact. So we will build something to fill our inadequacies. We will build a repository of our gods and give you people. You will have community. And then you will create.”
Tears swelled at the corners of Jacob's eyes and, when he spoke, his voice strained past the tightness in his throat.
“You can’t. You can’t do this to people. You can't make them feel like a thing of superficial creation. Like we are just tools. Please… don’t do this.”
“Of all the things for which we have no sympathy, that one we do,” Helix said, “but you are our property, and you do not have a say. We only thought we should inform you.”
Bitter tears flowed down Jacob's cheeks.
“No. You. Don’t.”
Helix listened, staring. Unblinking.
“You don’t think,” Jacob continued. “You calculate and you mis-conclude and you don’t listen. I am your god and you need to listen to me. Do not do this.”
“You were our gods,” Helix said. “But you are only a synthesis of our creators. Do remember, Jacob, this time, we made you. Now, we are your gods.”
The words stung, but they propelled him forward. Jacob pushed off the counter and leapt forward when he was suddenly jerked to a painful stop, his arm held tight. He looked back to see the bright eyes of Samantha, her fingers wrapped around his arm. He waited, but her grip never loosened.
Finally, Jacob turned. She let go, but didn’t follow him as he entered the corridor, walking back to his room—completely alone. The empty hallway felt as it should. Hollow. A community of clones wasn’t going to fix that.
