I shuddered at the thought of altering my face. But for the mission, I’d do it.
“No,” Lingyi replied. She sounded angry. “We can’t risk medical records of any kind on Zhou. And we’ve invested too much money and time into his identity. We proceed as we have planned.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “I trust you. Jin would never think to look for the kidnapper among his yous. Right under his nose. Play the part, and you’ve got this.”
Somehow, that didn’t make me feel better; then the projection wall went blank behind me, and for a moment, we were pitched into darkness.
I closed my eyes anyway, and the afterimage of Daiyu floated there, burned beneath my eyelids.
None of my friends said it aloud, but it didn’t need to be said.
What I was attempting to do wasn’t just dangerous.
It was suicide.
? ? ?
Late afternoon and the sky was tinged with gray haze so thick, you’d think if you swiped your palm through the air, you’d be able to grab a handful. Victor and Lingyi were still working on my rich-you-boy identity, fine-tuning my records online and securing a bachelor pad. I wanted to enjoy these last days of freedom, even if I never left my dank rented studio without a cap, face mask, and sunglasses on—covered and unrecognizable. I was meeting Arun at his lab on campus before we headed out for dinner. I hadn’t been back to the National Taiwan University since we had found Arun’s mom in her office. Remembering vividly brought back my friend’s rage and grief, something that he still struggled with. He was quiet more often, his easygoing manner and conversations at times falling away midinteraction.
I never knew what to do in those moments, other than rushing on where he had left off, as if his grief could be carried away by my aimless prattle, as if my words could fill those huge, empty spaces.
I entered the massive concrete-and-glass building where the science and technology labs were situated and signed in with the security guard at the desk. Arun had arranged for my building access. I messaged him on my Vox after I gained entry, because I wasn’t as familiar with this building, which was riddled with many corridors and turns. But he didn’t respond. Apprehension gripped me suddenly, a sense of déjà vu like ice down my spine.
My hands grazed the places where I hid my knives, their weight and solidity grounding me, my senses going into hyperfocus. The white lights overhead were too bright, washing the corridors in that disinfected glow that reminded me of hospitals and death. All the thick doors were closed, though I could hear muffled conversations behind some of them as I walked past. Finally, after pacing the circumference of the sixth floor twice, I found Arun’s lab. The door was shut, and I knocked, anxious enough now that I couldn’t stand still.
“Come in,” Arun said, and I let out a breath of relief to hear his voice.
I pushed the heavy door open and found Arun slumped on a stool, his elbows resting on a large black lab bench. He wore a bright yellow lab coat over jeans, and his orange hair wasn’t spiked, but tied back in a ponytail. The chamber was ringed on either side with computers and large pieces of equipment I didn’t recognize. There were three more lab benches cluttered with bottles and tubes. A low hum filled the space, coming from the ventilators and machines, and was devoid of any noticeable scent.
“Am I early?” I asked, pulling a stool up next to Arun.
He gave a dejected shake of his head. “They died.”
My pulse picked up immediately. “Who died?” My words sounded like a shout in the empty laboratory.
“My monkeys.”
Arun tapped on his Palm and the far glass wall screen lit up with a recorded image. It was muted, showing Arun in his yellow biohazard suit, with his head completely covered. He was facing a wall of six clear cages, with a monkey in each one. The monkeys all lay inert on their cage floors. They had brown fur, the fuzz around their faces reminding me of baby animals. I thought they were dead until two of them were seized with uncontrollable shudders, their mouths forming black circles in a silent scream, large brown eyes staring up unseeing into the lurid light. My arms goosepimpled, and I smothered a shiver. I was glad there was no sound.
“These monkeys were genetically engineered to have as similar a respiratory system to us as possible. I had given them avian flu and injected them with my latest antidote a day after they began showing flu symptoms,” Arun said. “H5N1 is a particularly virulent strain with a sixty percent fatality rate. But none of the monkeys survived. The nanobots went rogue, and my antidote killed them all.”
“You’re creating an antidote for the flu?” I asked in amazement. I knew Arun was smart; he came from a family of eminent research scientists, but this was groundbreaking.
“Not just for the flu,” Arun replied, rubbing the spot between his black eyebrows. “I’m creating nanobots to specifically target viral replication. It stops it in its tracks, then the body’s immune system takes over and wipes out any lingering viruses.”
“That’s incredible.”
“Only if I can get it to work.” Arun pounded on the lab table twice with his fists. “I thought I had it this time. And look what happened.”
The wall screen showed the monkeys twitching in their cages, a few jumping as if they were getting electrocuted, before blood seeped from their mouths and noses, darkly saturating the fuzz around their tiny faces. Then their small bodies finally stilled.
“Two of them even bled from their eyes,” Arun said, sounding hoarse.
I swallowed, feeling sick. “Gods, I’m so sorry.”
“Before my mom died, I had told her I’d do this. That I wasn’t an ecologist and I couldn’t be an activist or spokesperson like she was for our environment, but I’d try and curb the illnesses at least. If I could get this to work, meis could live longer, have healthier lives—”
“You can’t give up.” I bumped my fist against his, which was curled tight in frustration.
“Never.” Arun gave a shake of his head, the familiar fire returning into his dark brown eyes. “I’ve just got to refine the nanobots to inhibit viral transcription. I’m so close.”
We left the science tech building fifteen minutes later. Arun had taken off his lab coat and was wearing an orange shirt beneath that matched his hair. I had to blink if I looked at him for too long. The color was brighter than I had ever seen from our pale sun. We had picked a hole-in-the-wall cafe that served delicious steamed dumplings and buns.
Walking through the campus, students on bicycles zipped past us on their way home or to an evening class. Lingyi was waiting at the main university entrance and gave a wave when she spotted us. Looking ready for spring, she had pulled back her hair with a bright green headband, and her white pants had giant pink blooms on them. She hugged us both, smelling of vanilla, and said, “Victor can’t make it. He’s meeting a client.”