“If I may,” Timothy continued. Apparently noting his audience’s impatience, he added, “I’ll stick to just the main points, I promise.”
The two divers exchanged a look, and Rodger gave a grudging nod. “Enlighten us, then. You’ve got five minutes.”
The hologram cleared its throat and spoke in a more professorial tone: “Way back in the late twentieth century, a theory known as punctuated equilibrium was proposed, to account for unexplained gaps in the fossil record. The radical new theory suggested that the plodding pace of evolution is occasionally ‘punctuated’ by rapid flurries of change, giving rise to new species in only an eyeblink of geological time. Hence the absence of fossils to account for their development.
“Hold up there,” Magnolia drawled. “How ’bout a translation for those of us who speak English?”
“Bear with me, please,” Timothy said. “It will all make sense very soon. The theory was controversial, to say the least, and after a while, even the founders lost faith in it.”
“That’s all fascinating, I’m sure,” Rodger said, nodding toward the ghastly creature in the capsule. So how does that get us from humans to that monstrosity in just a couple of centuries?”
The Timothy hologram gave a tolerant smile. “Well, it turns out that those daring scientists were barking up the right tree after alclass="underline" punctuated equilibrium does indeed happen—they just never found its triggering mechanism. But ITC’s scientists did find it—in some humble marine invertebrates known as bryozoans, which underwent a burst of evolutionary change back during the age of the dinosaurs, thus proving out the theory.”
“I hate to break up this thrilling lecture,” Rodger said with a theatrical sigh, “but we’ve got a mission to complete.”
“Sh-h-h-h!” Magnolia hissed. “This could be important.” She turned to the hologram. “Please don’t mind him. You were saying?”
Timothy picked up without missing a beat. “So ITC studied the bryozoans’ genome and found the genetic switch in their DNA that made this rapid evolutionary burst possible. Then they went way outside the box, using one of the millions of rapidly evolving viruses in a single cupful of polluted seawater.”
This is where it gets interesting,” Timothy said. “By splicing a specific strand of the viral RNA with the particular bryozoan DNA sequence, ITC’s scientists gave their modified humans the capacity to evolve rapidly—that is, mutate—to adapt to a hostile environment. But to the geneticists’ astonishment, the spliced-in bryozoan DNA and viral genetic material did something they could never have expected: it allowed the modified humans and domesticated animals to mutate within a single lifetime. Until then, mutations occurred only through sexual reproduction. But all of a sudden, genetic change that should take thousands of generations could occur within a single living creature as it slept in cryo-suspension.”
“The scientists were playing god,” Rodger said, thunderstruck.
“Indeed,” Timothy said. “Their genetically modified organisms—people as well as hogs, chickens, and other useful vertebrates—could respond immediately to environmental changes by evolving and mutating within their cryo capsules. Of course, the ITC scientists hedged their bets by leaving a small control group of human and canine capsules largely isolated from the sensors relaying the atmospheric data.”
“Yeah,” Magnolia said. “What could possibly go wrong?”
She raised her rifle at the glass and had flicked the safety off when a frantic voice came over the comm.
“Magnolia, Rodger!” Gasp. “Do you copy?”
It was Weaver, and he sounded as though he was having a hard time breathing.
“Copy that, Weaver,” Rodger said. “Where are you?”
“I’m trying to get to the command room at the top of the facility.” Static crackled over the channel as Weaver struggled to get enough air. “Pipe’s gone. I’ve got to find a radio to send an SOS to the Hive. Meet me at the command room.”
Magnolia looked at Timothy. “How do we get out of this place? We can’t go out the front door.”
He pointed to the top of the towers. “The Sirens accessed this room through the utility tunnels.”
Rodger thanked him with a nod as they turned to climb the towers. Timothy was just an AI, but his personality was that of a man, a real survivor from the Old World. Something about leaving him behind, all alone, felt wrong.
SEVENTEEN
“You’re never getting—”
The electromagnetic storm silenced Captain Jordan before he could finish his sentence, but Michael could fill it in: they weren’t ever getting back on the ship again.
But Michael had more immediate concerns. He had to reach the surface in one piece, then find the Hilltop Bastion and the other divers before it was too late.
He torpedoed through the black clouds, eyes flitting between Layla and his HUD.
They were at three thousand feet. The light-blue residue of a lightning streak lingered across his vision. To the east, a hundred feet above him, the light of Layla’s battery unit glimmered. He could hardly see her through the ice crystals that had formed around the edges of his visor, but he saw every inch of the electrical arc that flared across her flight path.
The bolt seized the air from Michael’s lungs. He resisted the urge to blink, terrified that in the millisecond his eyes were shut, his best friend and lover might tumble away into the darkness.
“Layla!” he yelled.
The maddening reply of static came over the channel. Ignoring the risk of crosswinds throwing him out of his dive, he tilted his helmet up to watch her. She was still plunging fast, which made her difficult to track. And like that, she was gone, vanished in the cloud cover.
“No,” Michael whimpered, staring at the spot where he had last seen her. “Layla, you can’t…”
He stared at the darkness, his heart aching. If something had happened to her, it was his fault.
“Layla!” he shouted. “Layla, can you hear me?”
He closed his eyes for a full second before snapping them back open to search again. His heart was hammering so violently, it seemed enough to throw him off course.
A few beats later, a faint glow emerged to the east. In the wake of blue, he saw the outline of a free-falling body, still positioned in a nosedive—something Layla couldn’t do if she were hurt or unconscious.
Michael exhaled and tilted his visor back toward the fort of black clouds. They weren’t out of this yet.
The wind howled around him, tugging and lashing from every direction. The numbers on his HUD were going haywire, flickering between two thousand and three thousand feet. He reached for a flare but thought better of it and brought his arm back to his side.
The sky was still a colossal static generator, and the quickest way through was by splitting it at a terminal velocity. Even without his instruments, he knew that he was moving at around 180 miles an hour.
Michael tried to calculate his exact speed and altitude based on the last reading. If he was correct, they were close to the edge of the storm. He searched the muddy clouds for the surface. There was no seeing through the black, however, and he risked another sidelong glance to check on Layla.
Thunder cracked and lightning rippled across the sky to the east—another immense storm brewing. The red zone wasn’t far now, and the Hilltop Bastion was right in the center of it.
Michael pulled his arms out from his body and fought his way into a stable position. Wind rippled his suit and whistled over his armor as he spread his arms and legs. Looking skyward, he saw Layla doing the same thing.