Epitome

By Elisa O'Donnell

Genesis Velorum survived her mission into outer space and even managed to rescue one of her closest friends. But she worries she may have irrevocably damaged the friendship, and she doesn’t know what to do with her newfound knowledge. Everything she has based her world on is a lie, and she doesn’t know if she’s happy with learning the truth.

Captain Nicholas Swift has more in store for her. After christening her a GURU, he sends her and the other GURUs from Enigma on a very special mission. The mission’s length is uncertain, and Genesis worries they might never return.

But their special mission is not what it seems, and Genesis and the other GURUs soon discover Captain Swift has a secret mission that will affect all humankind...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elisa O'Donnell
• Release date: Jul 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310133725

Elisa O'Donnell

Elisa O'Donnell is a shrink, otherwise known as a licensed clinical psychologist.She likes to ponder the big picture stuff of life, knowing this will keep her busy for awhile and most certainly will keep her writing.

Book preview

PART I: The Return

1

I open my eyes and find myself flat on my back.

The high, white ceiling above me is unremarkable, yet I sense I am not in a familiar place.

Was I asleep? How long was I asleep? My body feels perfectly rested, but my mind, while groggy, is restless. I scan my surroundings and see a palette of calming blues, but there is something sterile feeling about this place.

It takes me a moment to remember, but then I do...

The Preparation Pod. Decontamination. It comes back to me in a rush.

I have just returned from outer space. I led a crew on a secret mission to rescue one of my closest friends, Danso. The mission was a success.

The who I am, what I am, and why are slower in coming, but they arrive. My brain is in a cloud, and I suspect it is due to the effects of a sedative. Hopefully nothing more.

My name is Genesis Velorum, I remind myself. I am genetically gifted or fit, deemed and labeled so in Enigma, the spacecraft world in which I reside. I elected to embark on a STAR, or Secret Travel and Recognizance, mission instead of becoming fertilized. Those had been my two options when I had turned eighteen-years-old a mere week ago. One week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. No matter how I think about the time frame, it is a lifetime ago.

Even more unreal is that just a few days ago, I had held the belief that Enigma’s inhabitants were the Earth’s only descendants. Nuclear war had wiped out human life on Earth, except for those who had been able to afford expensive, state-of-the-art underground habitations. My ancestors had initially survived holed up underground and had eventually transitioned into the second phase of the human race’s survival: the great exodus to Enigma, the spacecraft bunker designed to uphold life. Currently, Captain Nicholas Swift commandeers Enigma, a society based on the ideal of requiring all inhabitants to contribute equally to increasing the quality of life for all. Indeed, Enigma stands on the four pillars of LIFE: Longevity, Ingenuity, Fertility, and Equality. Except all inhabitants are not equal. Those deemed genetically inferior and labeled as unfit for breeding, also known as UFBs, are required to contribute more to Enigma to compensate for their inability to contribute to the gene pool.

But the gene pool is much larger than what exists solely in Enigma.

I am still trying to digest this news.

Last week, mere hours after my arrival to the Preparation Pod, where inhabitants are sent to train prior to their STAR missions, I had been introduced to the startling revelation that Captain Swift’s realm is not confined to Enigma, the only reality I have ever known. Indeed, he is the captain of a fleet. Enigma is but one of sixteen spacecraft worlds, and I am but one of the selected few who are privy to this information. The selected few have a name: the Geneticists Ultra Reality Union, or GURUs, an elite organization dedicated to improving and altering reality. I am not yet a GURU, but I have been informed there are plans to turn me into one.

I was not an active participant in the making of these plans.

Slowly, I sit up and swing my legs to the side of the bed. I find I am clothed in a soft white bodysuit, and there are slippers positioned on the floor. My feet slide into them, and I am glad to feel steady and strong when I stand.

Sheer white curtains cover part of the wall, and the round shape of a window glows with the promise of daylight. I push aside the curtain and am rewarded with sunbeams dancing through bright green leaves and gnarly tree branches. My view of the branches makes me think I am on the second floor, but when I look below, I see the tree trunk is unusually tall. In fact, it is so tall, I know this is not an act of nature. Genetic enhancement. Welcome to Enigma. It is then I also notice some of the branches originate from my building. I guess I am in a tree, too.

The sound of chimes alerts me to someone’s imminent arrival. I turn just as a door materializes in the seamless blue wall across from me.

A familiar face. My best friend, Warble, smiles and is a reassuring sight.

Genesis, she greets me, I wanted to be the first to welcome you back. In fact, I told Cabel I would have it no other way.

Cabel Wheelspoke. A GURU whose influence is certain but the scope of which I cannot yet judge.

I am glad you are the first, I say, and as I speak, I realize I no longer harbor a grudge toward Warble for initially keeping her GURU status a secret from me. Good. It had been annoying being angry with her.

I ask, How long was I asleep?

Less than seventy-two hours. We kept you in a suspended state while we ran the required tests for biological and chemical hazards. You should be happy to know you cleared all assessments.

This makes me wonder aloud, Are there some in my crew who have not cleared all tests? I had led a crew of three UFBs on my STAR mission. My brow wrinkles as I consider any one of them not faring well.

All in your crew are perfectly healthy. They have cleared all tests but are still in a suspended state due to additional decontamination procedures.

I know what this means. My crew members are being given memory illusions, a technique invented by the GURUs to alter an inhabitant’s remembered perceptions of an event. In other words, memory illusions change an inhabitant’s past, and, therefore, also alter their present reality.

To say I am wary of memory illusions is an understatement.

Warble shares, Danso is also being kept in a suspended state. In response to my questioning look, she adds, Not for the same procedures as for your crew. His tests indicated low grade levels of radiation exposure. Not enough for alarm, but his body is undergoing DNA and cell cleansing to ensure all affected areas are treated.

So he doesn’t yet know what happened. I feel a twinge of guilt. My crew and I had rescued him, and the mission is considered a success, but we had used deception and had stormed his crew by surprise.

Not yet; in due time. She adds, The cell cleansing will also erase his genetic enhancement—the one that caused his desire to protect me. It will not be regenerated.

Prior to my going on my STAR, I had learned Danso’s genes craved a pheromone only Warble produced. The GURUs had created the enhancement as a measure of protection. Apparently, it is no longer deemed necessary.

Warble continues, Danso will remember events exactly as they happened. As you learned prior to your departure, Cabel means to make both you and Danso GURUs. Thus, your realities now belong to you—you are exempt from memory illusions. But she wryly points out, Of course, neither one of you are yet actually GURUs, so I suppose he could have made an argument to provide both of you relief from your most recent missions.

Relief?

I speak plainly. I am satisfied with not being provided such relief.

I dare not voice my doubts aloud about memory illusions, not in this place where every spoken word, if not every strand of DNA, is surely monitored. My feelings about memory illusions are strong enough that I am hesitant to embrace the idea of being made a GURU. But now, after all I know, is there any other choice?

Do you not believe I would protect the integrity of your memories? Her question hints she is mildly offended.

I know you would do whatever is in your power.

Then you must begin to believe that I—and you—have more power than we dared to conceive of in Enigma.

Power. A concept of which I have very little understanding. As a fit inhabitant, I have been afforded more privileges than the UFBs in Enigma, but this has never made me feel powerful. Perhaps it has made me feel less powerless than the UFBs, but powerless nonetheless.

I ask, And what, or who, grants us this power?

We do, she responds. Others may have made plans for us—for how they want to use our genetic gifts—but they could not breed out our free will. They could not breed out what makes us human.

I sense her strong conviction, her belief in her own words.

Correction: I don’t just sense it; I know it. My intuition gene, the genetic gift for which I have been bred, leaves no room for error. The pheromones and chemicals human beings naturally emit keep no secrets from me. I am still growing accustomed to this. If learning last week of Captain Swift’s fleet was not enough to forever alter my world, learning of my genetic gift has guaranteed it.

Except I was not really surprised about my gift. That is the irony of it all: I had intuition about my ability long before I knew there was a reason for it.

My response is slow in coming because while I trust Warble’s confidence, I don’t yet share it. I say, I hope to someday understand the extent of our power, and what it means to have it, but I do not think all forces at play have yet been revealed to us.

She nods, agreeing, Yes, and these other forces will not be found on Enigma, so it is wise to be cautious. She adds, We no longer belong to mainstream Enigma. Our future now includes more possibilities than what Enigma offers its inhabitants.

Possibilities. Warble uses the word as if it is a good thing. Right now, however, possibilities equal uncertainties, and my next question points to one giant uncertainty:

Now that I’ve returned, where will I dwell if mainstream Enigma no longer holds my future?

She admits, I suppose that depends on factors not in our control. Still, she inquires, If the choice was yours, where would you want to dwell?

What are my choices? I ask myself. Do I want to stay here in the special pod of the GURUs? Do I want to go back to the dwelling where I grew up? My heart says, Yes, but my head replies, Not possible.

Too much has happened. Even if I wanted to make it work, I know I could not simply reintegrate back into my old life. Amazingly, I am accepting of this fact. I terribly miss my younger twin brothers, Lugo and Hugo, now thirteen-years-old, and I wish to live as a family again, but I could not face them and my mother each day, knowing what I now know and not being able to share it with them.

Warble says, Perhaps what you thought you might want is not what you want, after all.

I am honest. I know what I want, but I also know it is not possible. I cannot dwell in Enigma and go on as if nothing has happened…as if I don’t know what I now know.

And what if you could go back?

Her question lingers with an underlying question. I answer it.

No. I will not be relieved of this burden because of my own selfish desires. I will not accept the implied offer to ‘do me a favor’ and allow a memory illusion to erase my hard won knowledge.

You understand I am not the one who is asking the question.

Of course, I reply, nodding, and suspect Cabel Wheelspoke is behind it.

Warble knew what my answer would be because she knows me well, and yet she had to ask it. Is that power? Yes, but not Warble’s.

She shrugs. What does it matter anyway? The possibility of either you or me dwelling in mainstream Enigma is gone.

Yes, I reply, surprised at the certainty in my voice, Enigma now has no place for either of us.

I think back to when Warble had first disappeared from my life in Enigma, back to when Danso and I had believed she was hiding in the UFB pods, and we had held the hope we could rescue her…back to when we had believed Enigma was all there is.

So you never intended to return, I state, alluding to Warble’s reassurance to us, back then, that she would return to Enigma when the time was right.

My promise remains. I will return when the time is right, as will you.

She steps away from our conversation and toward the wall to inspect a framed picture, the lone decorative item in the room. Only it is not really a picture. The scene keeps changing, and I quickly catch on to what we are viewing: the sixteen spacecraft worlds in Captain Swift’s fleet.

The scenes depicted are from the viewpoint of outer space. I recognize Enigma, of course, because I have always lived here. But I also recognize it because the spacecraft worlds are not identical. In fact, some are clearly larger or smaller than Enigma. This surprises me because of Captain Swift’s mantra of equality. Apparently, each spacecraft world in his fleet was not created equally, at least not equally by size.

I ask my friend, Have you been to any of the others?

Not yet, she replies.

Not yet. This is not the same answer as ‘no,’ and I sense her trepidation.

Perhaps that will be our next adventure, I say, testing the reason behind her feelings.

Adventure, no. I can’t see her eyes, but then she turns to face me. Mission, yes. You, Danso, and I are tasked with making contact with some of the others.

The others?

She nods, Other GURUs.

Do they, like us, know about the existence of Captain Swift’s fleet?

No inhabitants from Enigma know of Captain Swift’s fleet except for Enigma’s GURUs. As for GURUs dwelling on other spacecraft worlds, I don’t have the answer, Warble replies.

And how many of us are there? Us. This new way of thinking about myself, as a GURU, is going to take some getting used to.

I have asked that very question and have never received a direct answer. She suggests, Perhaps you can try asking Cabel, yourself.

I hope to have the opportunity soon, I say. Cabel can count on more than just that question from me.

You will have it soon enough, she replies. We are scheduled to meet with Cabel this evening in his private quarters. She consults her BAND, or Broadband Arm Network Device. Actually, in just two hours.

I am pleased by this development. Danso, too?

Unfortunately, no. He will not be finished with his treatments in time for our meeting. She adds, I anticipate our being able to see him tomorrow.

I am disappointed, but at least the wait will not be long. I am anxious to apologize for the deceptive tactics used to rescue him and his team. Although the tactics had not been of my own choosing, it was still I who had carried them out.

Warble informs me, I will leave you to refresh yourself, and I will meet you back here at 1750 hours.

A little over an hour from now. I look around my temporary recovery quarters and am about to ask the obvious when Warble speaks the word, Washroom. A doorway immediately materializes in the wall beside the bed, and I spot a sink and deep tub.

You will find your new uniform in the washroom closet, Warble informs me.

New uniform? It is then I notice a familiar symbol on Warble’s red jumpsuit: a small black and white fingerprint—the symbol of the GURUs. I wonder if my new uniform is equally adorned...

Warble departs, and I start steaming hot water running in the tub. Then, I check out the closet.

I find a set of black boots, and, as promised, a single jumpsuit style uniform. The uniform is bright green and black, and on the right shoulder, I spot the fingerprint. I had wondered how I would be christened as a GURU; obviously, with little fanfare and the simple provision of a uniform with a very special symbol.

But it will take more than a uniform to make me feel like a GURU.

2

I soak in the tub for almost an hour, so I don’t dilly dally when I get out because Warble is never late. The washroom is void of towels because it is furnished with the standard body dryer. I select the ocean setting and close my eyes. The scent of salt water surrounds me, and my skin and hair are gently dried and moisturized by a mixture of cool and warm breezes. I try to envision myself standing on a sandy beach, an experience I have never had and have only seen in pictures.

My new uniform is fitted but easy to slip into. As my arms glide into the sleeves, I catch my image in the floor length mirror. The young female inhabitant staring back at me is still not what I expect. Outside special areas only located in the Preparation Pod, inhabitants dwelling in Enigma are exposed to a variety of pharmaceuticals pumped into the air. One of the intended results is the alteration of perceptions, including the perception of others’ appearances. Last week, prior to embarking on my STAR mission, I had seen myself unaltered for the first time. Now, as I study my reflection, I acknowledge it is me, but it is a version of me that is still unfamiliar. I glow with supernatural health. My thick dark hair intertwines with strands of gold, my amber eyes are larger and radiate flecks of fire, my figure is athletic yet possesses female curves with which I am not yet fully comfortable. For a moment, I acutely miss my dog, Dagna, who would recognize me by scent and not be fazed by my new appearance. Would my mother, my brothers, recognize me? I shake the question away because this is not something to consider now, not when I have no clue of when I might, if ever, see them again.

To complete my new ensemble, I collect my boots from the closet. Contradictory to their solid appearance, they feel light as air. I examine the soles and discover a light tread in the pattern of diamonds. There are also unusual, metal pieces interspersed and embedded inside the diamond shapes. Gold in color, they are of various sizes, but each looks like a disc with a round hole in the middle. I have never seen something similar and don’t know what to make of them. I stop inspecting the soles of my boots and pull them on quickly because it must be close to time to go.

As if on cue, I hear the chimes. Warble steps into the room, and I am glad her appearance has remained familiar to me, unchanged despite the absence of chemicals. My friend has always been magnetically alluring. Her head is covered with hair that shines with a silver translucence, and her clear grey eyes dare you to look at the world differently. Her quirky sense of humor also remains unchanged…

It suits you, Warble says with a wink, in reference to my new uniform.

You and your puns, I shake my head, but I think it might.

Warble had used puns to name many of her musical compositions. Each year, her musical ability had been well lauded during Enigma’s premiere competition event, the Festival of LIFE. Now, I wonder what will become of her genetic talent, a talent compared to infamous composers of the past.

Perhaps other worlds may enjoy my music, as well, Warble says, as if reading my mind. I have always yearned for an audience outside of Enigma, to truly test whether my compositions move others, or if it is simply by default due to lack of other options.

I think they will stand on their own. I add, Unless inhabitants in other worlds have been bred in such a way to not appreciate music.

She cocks her head. What a strange idea. Isn’t music part of what makes us human?

Human. Not a term regularly used in Enigma. Inhabitant, fit, UFB—these are the labels to which I am accustomed. What does make us human? What makes me human?—my mind, body, feelings, thoughts? My ability to appreciate music?

I don’t have an answer for Warble, so I dodge the topic by asking, Do you really expect me to answer such a complex question when I haven’t eaten for days? My stomach audibly growls, and I needlessly add, I’m starving.

Warble nods. That is normal. Decontamination procedures require much energy. Cabel is well aware of this and will most certainly provide refreshments.

We use that as our cue, and we exit the recovery room. As we step into the hallway, I see that it is circular. It