CHAPTER 72
Somewhere near Isla de Alborán
Mediterranean Sea
David tried to process what Kate had said. “You’re—”
“An Atlantean,” Kate insisted.
“Look, I…”
“Just listen, okay?” Kate had regained her breath.
A knock came from the door.
David grabbed his gun. “Who is it?”
“Kamau. We’re T minus one hour, David.”
“Understood. Anything else?”
A pause.
“No, sir.”
“I’ll be out shortly,” David called to the door. He turned to Kate.
“What the hell is going on?”
“I remember now, David. It’s like a flood, like a dam has broken. Memories. Where to start—”
“How do you have the memories?”
“The tubes—the Immari thought they were healing pods. That’s only half of what they are. They heal, but their main purpose is to resurrect Atlanteans.”
“Resurrect?”
“If an Atlantean dies, they return in the tubes, with all their memories, just as they were before they died. The Atlantis Gene—it’s more than what we think it is. It’s a remarkable piece of biotechnology. It causes the body to emit radiation, a sort of subatomic download of data. Memories, cell structure, it’s all collected and replicated.”
David stood there, unsure of what to say.
“You don’t believe me.”
“No,” he said. “I believe you. Trust me, I believe you. I believe everything you just said is true.” His thoughts drifted to his own resurrection, his rebirth, both in Antarctica and Gibraltar. He sensed that she needed him. She was going through something he couldn’t begin to understand. “If anyone in the world believes you, it’s me. You heard my story—my resurrection. But let’s walk through it. First things first: how could you have an Atlantean’s memories?”
Kate wiped the sweat from her face. “In Gibraltar, the ship was damaged, almost destroyed. The last thing I remember was going back into the ship. During the explosions, I was knocked out, and my partner… he grabbed me. I don’t know what happened after. I must have died. But I didn’t resurrect. The ship must have turned it off—either because it was damaged or there was no escape. Or maybe he turned it off—my partner.” Kate shook her head. “I can almost see his face… He saved me. But… somehow I didn’t return in the tube. In 1919, my father put Helena Barton—my mother—in the tube. I was born in 1979. The tube is programmed to bring the Atlantean back to the moment it died. It grows a fetus, implants the memories, then matures the fetus to the standard age.”
“Standard age?”
“About my age now—”
“The Atlanteans don’t age?”
“They do, but you can disable aging with a few simple genetic changes. Aging is just programmed cell death. But it’s taboo for the Atlanteans to disable aging.”
“It’s taboo not to age?”
“It’s seen as… oh, it’s hard to explain, but a sort of greed for life. Wait, that’s not exactly right. It’s that and it’s a sign of insecurity—forgoing aging signifies clinging to an unfinished youth, as if you’re not ready to move on. Forgoing death implies a life unfinished, a life one is not happy with. But certain groups are allowed to disable aging and maintain the standard age—deep-space explorers being one group.”
“So the Atlanteans—” David hesitated. “You’re… a space explorer?”
“Not exactly. I’m sorry, I keep using the wrong words.” She held her head for a moment. “Will you see if there’s some kind of anti-inflammatory in the bathroom?”
David returned with a bottle of Advil, and Kate took four and dry-swallowed them before David could object to the dose. She’s the doctor, not me. What do I know?
“The two of us, we were a science team—”
“Why were you here?”
“I… can’t remember.” She rubbed her temples.
“Scientists. What kind? What’s your specialty?”
“Anthropology. What would be the closest term? Evolutionary anthropologists. We were studying human evolution.”
David shook his head. “How could that be dangerous?”
“Primitive world research is dangerous work. In case we were killed in the field, we were programmed to resurrect so we could resume our work. But something went wrong with my resurrection. With me, it implanted the memories, but it couldn’t advance me—my unborn body was trapped inside my mother. These memories have lingered in my subconscious for decades until now—until I reached the standard age.” She slumped onto the bed. “Everything I’ve ever done has been driven by these subconscious memories. My decision to become a doctor, then a researcher. My choice to develop a gene therapy for autistic individuals, it’s simply a manifestation of my desire to correct the Atlantis Gene.”
“Correct it?”
“Yes. Seventy thousand years ago, when I introduced the Atlantis Gene, the human genome wasn’t ready for it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Atlantis Gene is extremely sophisticated. It’s a sort of survival and communications gene.”
“Communications… Our shared dreams?”
“Yes. That’s how we were able to access it—to communicate subconsciously via subatomic particles, radiation, passed between our brains. It began when you were in northern Morocco and I was in southern Spain. It’s because we both have the Atlantis Gene and we’re linked. Humans won’t be able to use ‘the link’ for thousands of years. I gave humans the Atlantis Gene so they could survive. The survival aspects were the only goal. But it spun out of control.”
“What?”
“The humans, the experiment. We had to make periodic genetic modifications—changes to the Atlantis Gene.” She nodded to herself. “We used gene therapy retroviruses to make the modifications—yes, that’s it: the endogenous retroviruses in the human genome, that’s what they are—fossils from past gene therapies we gave the humans, the incremental updates.”
“I still don’t understand, Kate.”
“Martin had it right. It’s incredible. He was a genius.”
“I—”
“Martin’s chronology of Atlantis Gene modifications—they don’t stop at twelve thousand five hundred years ago.”
“Right…”
“His ‘missing delta’ and ‘Atlantis Falls’ refers to the destruction of our ship and my science team’s demise. The end of our changes in the human genome.”
“So that means—”
“The changes went on. Someone else has been interfering with human evolution. Your theory was right. There are two factions.”
Dorian closed his eyes. He could never sleep before battle. They were only hours from Isla de Alborán, from capturing Kate and taking her to Ares. When he freed the Atlantean he would finally discover what he truly was, who he was. He felt nervous. What would he learn?
Dorian tried to picture Ares in his mind’s eye. Yes, he was there, staring back at him, a warped image reflecting off the curve of glass—an empty tube.
Dorian stepped back. A dozen tubes spread out in a semi-circle. Four held primates, or humans. It was hard to tell.
The doors behind him opened with a hiss.
“You should have never come here!”
Dorian knew the voice, but he could hardly believe it. He turned slowly.
Kate stood before him. She wore a suit that was similar to his, but different. His was a uniform. Hers was more like the coveralls of someone working in a sterile research facility.
Kate’s eyes grew wide when she saw the tubes. “You have no right to take them—”
“I’m protecting them.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“You put them at risk. You gave them part of our genome. You underestimate our enemy’s hatred. They will hunt every last one of us.”
“Which is why you should never have come—”
“You are the last of my people. And so are they.”
“I only treated one subspecies,” Kate said.
“Yes. I realized that when I took the samples. That species will never be safe now. You need my help.”