Unremembered (Unremembered #1)(38)

Speech doesn’t come easy. My tongue feels as though it’s too big for my mouth, but finally, in a barely audible voice, I’m able to ask, ‘Who are you?’

He bows his head, almost looking ashamed. Then he takes a deep breath. ‘I’m the person who made you what you are.’

What I am.

Not who I am.

The grim disparity between those simple little words makes me shudder.

‘And what am I exactly?’ I immediately flash back on the conversation I overheard between Heather and Scott before I left.

‘It’s like she’s a . . . she’s a . . . a robot.’

‘Am I human?’ I add, the words barely managing to escape my rapidly contracting windpipe.

He sighs, as though this, of all the questions in the world, was the one he dreaded the most. ‘The short answer is yes.’

‘The short answer?’ I repeat dubiously.

He bends down and frees my hands, then leans back on one of the rusty metal contraptions that looks like it hasn’t been touched in years. ‘You see,’ he says reluctantly, ‘it’s not as straightforward a question as you might think.’

I frown and shake my head. ‘I don’t understand. It seems like a pretty straightforward question to me.’

‘Let me ask you this,’ he begins pensively, folding his arms across his chest. ‘If a human being – a man – were to lose his arm or his leg in an accident and it was replaced with a prosthetic – an artificial limb – would he still be human?’

I rub my left wrist with my right hand. The shackles left a reddish mark around my tattoo that quickly starts to fade. ‘Yes, of course.’

He nods. ‘And what if he lost all his limbs and had four prosthetics – two arms and two legs – would he still be human then?’

I shrug. ‘Yes.’

He twists his mouth, causing his red beard to ripple. ‘OK. Now he goes blind. And his eyes are replaced with small cameras that send signals to his brain to tell him what they’re seeing. Is he human?’

I nod hesitantly but don’t reply.

‘And he needs a heart transplant. So doctors give him a synthetic heart. It’s manufactured in a lab but it works the same way as an organic heart. Is he still human then?’

I shift uneasily in my seat, not liking where this is going. ‘I suppose so.’

‘And then his brain melts down but doctors are able to download and copy all of his memories and experiences on to a computer. They build him a synthetic brain that will function exactly like his old one.’

‘Are you talking about me?’ My voice is quivering and my eyes are misting with tears. ‘Are you saying I have a synthetic brain and heart and cameras for eyes and prosthetic limbs?’

‘Shh,’ he soothes, pushing himself off the contraption and hurrying towards me. He kneels down again at my feet, looking up at me. And once again I can’t help but remark upon the kindness of his eyes. ‘No, Sera. I’m simply giving you a very extreme example to show you how complicated a question it is.’

I feel my whole body deflate with relief.

‘What makes us human?’ he asks. ‘Is it our hearts? Our brains? Our senses? Our limbs? Ask a hundred people and you’ll get a hundred different answers.’

I peer down at my legs, remembering how fast they carried me through the trees. So fast my pursuer couldn’t keep up.

‘What are you saying?’ I ask hoarsely. ‘How does this apply to me?’

‘Sera,’ he begins gently, ‘you are so special. Unlike anyone. My greatest creation of all time.’

‘Creation?’ I repeat. My lips feel numb as the word stumbles out of them. ‘What did you do to me?’

He takes hold of one of my hands, rubbing a rough thumb over my skin. ‘I made you perfect.’

My mouth goes dry. I try to swallow but it only makes me gag. I try to speak but words won’t form. It’s probably for the best. I’m not sure what I would say anyway.

‘You are the first human being in the history of the world to be created entirely by science. The most flawless sequence of genetic code in existence. Everything that our species has been craving – beauty, strength, intelligence, resistance to disease – has been engineered in you.’

His words haunt me, causing my lips and fingers to tremble. I shake my head, wishing I could scream at him to stop talking but I can’t. And so he goes on.

‘Researchers have been working on the science of synthetic biology for years now. It’s the creation of life from scratch. Synthesizing in a lab what Mother Nature has been making in her backyard for aeons, and then improving upon it. But no one had ever progressed further than a few single-celled organisms. That is, until us. Until . . . you. You are one of a kind. A scientific miracle.’

Infuriation rises in my chest. I don’t want to be a scientific miracle. I don’t want any of this.

It’s the anger that finally revives my voice. I open my mouth to express my grievances aloud but I never get the opportunity.

A booming voice echoes from the entrance of the barn, startling both of us.

‘GET AWAY FROM HER!’

I turn to see Zen walking slowly towards us, a heavy determination in his step. His arms are stretched out in front of him and cradled in his fingers is a device I’ve never seen before. It looks to be made out of some kind of black metal and it’s shaped like an upside-down L. There’s a round barrel with grooves in it that sits in the middle.