Project Eden

Chapter 5

"I'm sure you're tired," Zach says, "so I'll give you the tour of the rest of the compound in the morning."

I chuckle at the imagery his statement brings to mind. "The Compound. It sounds so dystopian when you say it like that. Are we going to dig for secrets that will get us killed by the evil government?"

He humorlessly raises an eyebrow at me before stepping into the hallway. This time he walks away without holding the door for me. Ouch. Someone is testy.

I trot along behind until I catch up to him, down yet another hallway.

With how large this place is, it doesn't surprise me that it takes a few minutes to walk to the residential wing of the complex. The silence isn't awkward, but that changes quickly once he opens his mouth.

"If you don't mind me asking . . ." He pauses. I can almost see his thoughts trying to form themselves into a question, but his brain isn't quite sure how to put them into words. This is going to be a dandy.

"Ask away," I say. "There's very little that you could say that would hurt or offend me. Seriously, go ahead."

His forehead crinkles into a dozen smaller frowns as he drums up the courage to ask. "What's it like being in a new body? The physical aspects must be a dramatic change from one clone to the next. And the way each brain processes thought and information . . ."

He doesn't finish the question, but he doesn't need to. It's something I've pondered many times.

"It's odd, at least at first," I tell him. "Different arms, different legs. Kind of like cognitive dissonance, except physical. I learn to adapt pretty quickly, though, since I have to use the new body to move and do pretty much everything. It's kind of like how a newborn foal learns how to walk and then run in a matter of hours after birth. There isn't another option."

He nods, not so much in agreement with what I said, but more for the mental analysis he undoubtedly just concluded. I've never met anyone who reminded me more of a sentient android than this guy.

I pick at a loose thread on my scrubs that had been tickling my arm. When I look back up, Zach staring at me as though he could see through my new body and directly into my soul. I redirect my gaze to the floor, walls, anything other than his intense gaze.

"It's trickier with the brain," I say. "Every DNA donor is rigorously vetted for both physical and emotional health. Any type of mental illness or psychosis—or even a family history of such—receives an immediate rejection. But more than that, they seek out women who are intelligent, quick-witted, creative."

Zee nods along as I speak, and I can practically see the motors running in his mind, processing the information and compartmentalizing it. What's really odd is that I'm beginning to understand him and the way he thinks.

I brush off the thought. It doesn't matter whether I understand him or not, because I won't be around long enough for it to matter. In a few days I'll be somewhere across the globe on a different mission, and he'll be just another name and face stacked in a far corner of my mind where I won't be tempted to be sad or miss him. It keeps me from being unbearably lonely: focus on the now, don't obsess over the past, and perhaps most important, don't pin any hopes on the future. It usually works well enough, but there's something about this guy that I don't think will fade quietly once we part.

He keeps his eyes on me, a steady gaze but not quite seeing. When his pupils sharpen back into focus, he blinks and looks at me again as though startled. Once his concentration is back on this planet, he nods again. "Makes sense."

"That part is kind of obvious," I say. "When it comes to the actual living inside a totally different human being . . . I can't find the words to explain, not even to myself. But if you consider that each human body is a unique amalgam of chemicals, hormones, vitamins, minerals, and plenty of other things, you'll realize that those things don't necessarily make us who we are. They might influence it in various ways, but I'm always the same person—me, my consciousness—even though the brain chemistry is different every time.

"Some things come naturally to an individual body, but there are other aspects that I can control. I create the same muscle memory in every clone based on how I walk and move. So my posture, stance, gait . . . if someone watched closely enough, they would recognize the same movements and mannerisms in each version of me, albeit with slight differences for height and build."

Zee taps his chin with his index finger. "Interesting."

With most people, that statement would come across as dismissive, but Zach—he's truly intrigued. Once again I'm struck by his utter sincerity. He's almost too genuine to be real. In some ways, I hope he stays that way, ignorant of the outside world and its evils, and lives in the safe nest he's built for himself. Sadly, working for LAB is the antithesis of a peaceful existence.

"For the most part, adjustment to a new host body is fine," I say. "But juggling a new balance of hormones can be . . . Well, if you had sisters growing up, you should be able to cope with the mood swings of the first day or two fairly well."

The look of abject terror on his face is so good I can't help but laugh. He scowls before turning to leave, but I grab his arm before he can get far.

"FYI, your questions were not even remotely inappropriate or offensive."

His smile is sardonic yet sad at the same time. "Just wait."

Now he has me intrigued.

When we finally reach my temporary bedroom, he opens the door for me, then follows sheepishly behind after I enter. "Bed. Dresser. Closet. Bathroom."

I turn to look at him, smiling inwardly at his discomfort. Zee certainly doesn't know how to act around girls. I wonder if he's ever had a girlfriend. The thought pulls my smile outward and onto my lips. "Thank you. I'm pretty sure I can figure out the rest."

He rubs the back of his neck as he visibly ponders what to say next. "The clothes and, uh, other—"

Now I laugh. "It's okay. I've done this before. The wardrobe is tailored specifically to my new body, so I know you weren't creeping around playing dress up."

He looks visibly relieved. Unsurprising, as he's not the first tech to get flustered when it comes to discussing the specifics of acquainting myself with a new body.

"I'll let you sleep and . . ." He practically dashes for the door. I laugh briefly before turning to look at my temporary home. Since I'm already bedecked in scrubs, I brush my teeth and hair before turning down the drab blue blankets on a surprisingly comfy bed. Within moments my body succumbs to blissfully numb unconsciousness.