Only Human (Themis Files, #3)(39)

We’re not as close as we used to be, but he’s still my friend. I won’t let him have the last word on this one, not if it means losing him. The Ekt won’t save him, but they also won’t stop me from doing it. I just need to cure cancer.

It sounds insane, but I think I know how to do it, sort of, on paper. Targeted therapy. We were making progress with the idea when we left Earth, developing drugs that target specific DNA mutations. That’s just what cancer is. Cells accumulate certain mutations over time and become more and more disconnected from all the mechanisms that are supposed to regulate them, including those that tell the cell to kill itself. At some point they stop caring completely and begin to divide uncontrollably. If I can identify the mutations responsible for Eugene’s cancer, and target the right cells…I know it’s easier said than done—humans have been trying to do just that for decades—but I’m certain it can be done here. They’ve done it. I’ve seen it.

The weapon they used against us on Earth did just that. It targeted certain DNA strands and made the cells do something that triggered an immune response against them. It’s like an airport sniffer dog. It can be trained to find different things—fruit, drugs, explosives. I need to train mine to find cancer and do the same thing it did on Earth. If I can get the same immune response, but only with cancer cells, Eugene’s body will cure itself, theoretically.

I’ll need all sorts of samples from Eugene, a way to sequence DNA from healthy and mutated cells. I’ll need equipment though it’s possible I already have access to everything I need. I don’t know what half the things do in the lab where they let me work. My biggest problem is that, even with all the lab equipment in the world, I don’t know enough about genetics. I have no idea what I’m doing, or how na?ve this idea of mine really is. I never thought I’d say it, but I need Alyssa right now. Short of that, I need to learn, fast, and figure out if this is even remotely possible. I’ll have to convince the Ekt I know more than I do, again. I hate being dishonest with them, but I’m not going to let my friend die.

I need to believe I can do this.





FILE NO. 2130


PERSONAL JOURNAL ENTRY—EVA REYES

Location: Kaarina Work Camp, near Turku, Finland

So close. We were almost there. We were stopped by local cops, who turned us over to the Russians.

Of course, they knew who I was. They plastered my picture everywhere. Déjà vu all over again. I think I might be the most wanted person here too. This is nuts.

“Bob” managed to convince them he was taking me to this camp. They bought it because we were so close, and no one would lie to get into a work camp. They even escorted us to the gate. He said he’d get me out, but I don’t see how he can manage that. They’ll talk to their bosses at some point, soon, and figure out who he is. Then they’ll come for me. I probably have a day at most, maybe two.

There’s got to be a way to escape. There are cameras everywhere, but there aren’t that many guards. There is no reason for them. These people aren’t criminals, they haven’t done anything. There are kids everywhere. Pretty much all the Muslims were sent in with their families. Some people even volunteered to come here. Their husbands and wives had a bit too much alien DNA, and they refused to let them go, so they came. This place is no prison. It feels more like a small village than anything else. It’s ironic, in a really sad way. There’s more closeness here, more love and acceptance, than anywhere else. White, black, brown, Christian, Muslim, all brought together by the greatest injustice of all. But they are together. If you’re in here, you’re welcome. I must be going out of my mind, but if I had to live anywhere, this is the first place I’ve seen since we came back where I feel I could have a life. That is until they start slaughtering those people.

They have me in a bunk next to this guy, Bilal. He’s just a year older than me. He—this is nuts—he studied plant biology in Helsinki. He worked in a bar to pay for school. There’s nothing special about him. Not his DNA. He’s not even Muslim. He’s a Hindu, but he was born in Pakistan, so…It’s pathetic. These people can’t even do racist right.

I hate this world. People are small. They’re ignorant, and they’re happy to stay that way. They make an effort to. They’ll spend time and energy finding ways not to learn things just to feel comfortable with their beliefs. The cops that turned us in, they weren’t scared of the Russians. They genuinely thought they were helping by turning us in. They were served this story that’s SO. OBVIOUSLY. BULLSHIT. But they swallowed it. They ate it all, and they asked for seconds. They’re happy to buy into this nonsense because they’re on the right side of things, and they have someone to blame for everything that’s wrong with the world. How cozy that must be, never having to question anything? I thought it would be different. I thought the world would have come together like never before after they were attacked. They’d been hurt. Everyone had. More than anything, they’d been hurt equally, randomly. None of the people who died did anything to deserve it. They were from all walks of life, rich and poor, from every religion. For the first time in history, there was a “them” everyone could point the finger at. That should have come with an even bigger “us.” If two kids get beat up by the same school bully, they have a reason to be friends. If I see millions of Chinese people go through the same horror I went through, I should feel some yokits sympathy for the Chinese, or I’m a whole new breed of asshole. It happened here. This insanity, it brought everyone here together. There’s a “them”: the numbnuts that dragged us here. And there’s an “us”: camp people. That’s how it’s supposed to work. That’s how it should be.