Chr. 1/46
It is one of those cold, crisp clear mornings when the reddish brown sun slowly and unwillingly wrestles with the sleepiness. I am sitting on a Boeing 787 about to take off on a 12 – hour flight to Hawaii. And, no, I am not flying all the way over there for the reason you think. I have to make it in time to my own presentation about the new Genenorg Software program. I used to hate science, when I was just three years old and my mom was ten years old, however now I am 25 years old in a new context and a new life…
I am not supposed to remember the alternate past – neither the reality nor that this past is fake. But I do. And where is he now, the one I love almost as much as life and what I stood for?
I guess I will start at the beginning, sharing my life with you, my imaginary audience. I will silently tell you everything (do not listen if you get depressed easily) – but first my fake past…
I was an only child. Both my parents passed away when I was four years old, and I lived, until I was 15, in an adoption center. Finally, a couple from New York adopted me, and I found two healthy parents and myself in a stepfamily complete with a stepsister. I was supposed to be happy, but I was missing the family I never had. I do not remember much about my "real" family (partly because I never knew these people) and partly because I was "too young" (no one believed my crazy stories, and thought that I was traumatized after my parents' deaths). All I remember now about my dad is that he had short curly black hair, and used to laugh a lot. All I remember about my mom is that she was a principal in a middle school, and a strict educator who would get furious if I did not hold my pen correctly. I remember the screeching car that tumbled down that cliff anyway – with all three of us inside. I remember thinking that it was the best roller coaster ride I had ever had.
My guess is that all three family members died in the car that fateful evening, and somehow I was confused as their child and was believed to have survived. I remember seeing that photograph, and the poor child looked strikingly like me. When I was transferred into my new life by the fourth dimension in which my real body could not stay, I had to have a past. So I took over the memories of this child… And when the vortex spit me out into the bushes in front of that adoption center, one of the few people standing there was a distant family friend. I instantly got integrated as one of the surviving members of the Barrera family (but all my previous memories stayed with me as well). The family friend could not take care of me because he was a drug addict, who struggled with his wife's breast cancer problem as well (yes, I hacked into one of the computers at the center, and luckily, never got caught).
The new family was preoccupied with their jobs, and adopted me to entertain Sydney on the weekends while they worked. Sydney, although she used to be an A+ student, was slipping socially, struggling with depression, and I even noticed her cutting her wrist once. She is now 27 years old, but used to be one of the girls who wears long straight hair that is dyed blond every week, and was one of those people who only think they are popular. Now, she almost disappeared from my parents' lives, being remembered mostly as one of these victims, a cute little girl remembered smiling in a cheerful, faded photograph. She became influenced by drugs only to get pulled downwards in life's unforgiving whirlpool. I am the only one who communicates with her, and she did fix her life to some degree. She went to a rehab center somewhere in California, and now works as a manager at a grocery store, several shifts a day, trying to pay the debt for her apartment.
I never really knew my stepparents, because they are almost always working. I keep thinking that this is also an addiction to some degree. They have a lot of money, a great house, and could take a day off at any time. My stepfather works at a big company called Nanopoint. Nancy will not tell anyone where she works, but she probably works in the government, most likely the CIA, looking at her behavior when she is around, and her ability to talk so that no one else will hear. I used to have to run from the CIA, but they are not looking for me anymore, not being controlled by Them.
I grew up okay; I found it easy to get good grades since I was taught everything – kindergarten through college – in the first ten years of my real life, except biology. But that was not necessary, because I was born knowing more than most scientists, and however well I tried to conceal this, I think they knew. I quickly learned the art of hacking into computers as well, and then discovered I could speak in yet another language besides Chinese, Spanish, and English. This was what they called the "genetic code." While I found it to be cool to be able to command cells to die, grow into tumors, and know the functions of all the chemicals inside them (but not the names), my mother told me to use this language as rarely as possible, never giving me a reason for this.
Both my real mom and I were basically living allusions to the only halfway – shaded – in world of life, part of which were meanings which could be seen by the naked eye, with the other meanings having to be deducted. While my name here is Shelby Barrera, it used to be Diane Okazaki. My mother's was Riana. Riana Okazaki. I was not born from her, however the end result was the same as if I was naturally born. This is because she was in charge of creating all of the genetic material normally inherited from a mother, including the *mtDNA (she copied her own) and some parts of my **satDNA. It might seem strange to you, my dear imaginary audience – a seven year old able to type someone else's DNA into a computer, and do this so that it works. Well, almost. Both times, my mother's and my own genetically engineered blastulas mutated. What was strange is that all the cells in the blastula mutated the same exact way, starting from the mtDNA and continuing to the nuclei.
I remember the first time I stepped outside. The entire right wing of the lab was asleep, except for the workaholics, of course. But they did not pay attention to anything besides their work. I managed to make a key out of a paperclip for the first door, and I hacked in through the code on the keypad of the second door. Outside the main building was a dark abyss, which both scared and intrigued me. The wind seemed to come out of nowhere, as I opened that door. As some sort of a shower drenched me, falling out of a ceiling that was so far away and so big that I could not see it completely, I got confused as to how this could happen. A glowing hemisphere illuminated the giant room, and I was standing on plants, that were growing right out of the floor! Some of the plants near me were very big and had thorns on them, however after being prickled a couple of times, I managed to read the genome of one of them. It was Aloe vera, the same plant that was growing out of a green pot in the dining room. I observed that the plants covering the floor ended suddenly, a few inches beyond the giant barbed wire fence, and were replaced by sand…
Of course, now I know that what I had walked into was not a giant room. It was the Arizona desert, area 51, on a very un-rare occasion when the grass sprinklers came on. It is believed that at the other end, (if you continue north from the main entrance of the laboratory) you will encounter an alien crash – landing site. However, I went there, and now I can tell that there is no alien crash – landing site there. It is a truly genius trick that the laboratory at area 51 employed. I decided to go outside often, but I was always careful not to catch a cold or let anyone know that I was missing. I noticed that the light source kept changing shape, and deducted from previous knowledge, that it was the moon.
Great. The plane is delayed. I have a bad feeling about this, especially after learning of the 9/11 events. The security is now really good, though, thanks to the ones that tried to carry on bombs in their shoes, and to make them on the plane from different chemicals, for an attempt to light it later with a match in the tiny restroom. Even though there is less of a chance for terrorists to attack this aircraft right now, they have accomplished something anyway. Now people are horrified, and the security lines have been stricter than ever, making thousands uncomfortable and scared as they take off their sweaty shoes and step onto the gray floor already bearing the sweat of others before them.
I proceed to call the company, telling them I will be late due to the delay and saying that I will get to the meeting as soon as possible. I have no idea why it is held in Hawaii during the spring vacation time, when everyone tend to go to Hawaii or some other warm place, unable to wait any longer for a summer.
So, let's continue. I never went beyond the barbed wire fence. That is until I found that I could move from one place to another by visualizing myself in another place with immense concentration and closing my eyes (if I did not, the flash of space would give me terrible eye pains, mostly because a human brain is not adapted to such events). I discovered this after a very suspicious looking man approached me with what looked like a gun hidden behind his back. I started backing away towards the wall, probably what a normal six year old would do as well, because I had never been taught how to behave when my safety is concerned, and relied solely on the guard. The man drew a knife out from behind his back, and walked towards me. At this moment I wished that I would suddenly appear on the other side of the barbed wire fence, outside the right wing of the lab where I currently was. As the knife touched the left side of my throat, I felt a slight dizziness; the knife sliced all the way through my neck like it was not there, and I saw a blindingly bright white screen and fainted.
When I woke up, I was lying on the ground on the other side of the fence. My neck hurt, and when I felt it with my hand, I found that the knife only cut halfway, instead of all the way across. I felt sharp pains in my eyes as well, and my eyesight was badly damaged. After taking five minutes to wonder how the hell I got here, how the hell did I survive, and how the hell do I sneak back in, I tried to imagine I was back in the laboratory building, room 304, next to the wall. It did not work, so I guessed that the man mistakenly assumed me dead and left what remained of me here. I was somewhat hidden away from the people in the laboratory, so that they did not spot me soon, and the man could make his escape. I had to walk all the way around, only to come to a conclusion that the fence circled the whole building. I had to call for help somehow. Despite being afraid that the strange man will come back, I screamed for help, immediately feeling the excruciating pain in my neck.
Luckily, one of the guards outside noticed me, and I expected to be let back in, but the fat woman working on this shift did not recognize me. I was instantly asked millions of questions, most notably, "How did you find this place?" "Where are your parents?" "Where are you from?" followed by "You are not supposed to be here!" I did not have time to answer until her storm of questions had passed, and my answers were just helpless stutters, interrupted by pain. I had no idea where exactly the laboratory was located or whether I had any parents!
At this moment, I decided to try to move from place to place again. I did not believe that the man would actually get a half – dead person past the guard, so it had to be my wish of moving beyond the fence come true. I closed my eyes and almost saw the freshly painted wall in room 304. Then, I felt the dizziness again. I heard the woman scream, then her scream faded away, and I opened my eyes to find myself back in the right wing of the laboratory.
I walked over to the end of the wing, still fearing another attack, and tried to tell the whole story to one of the scientists there. Soon the entire room was listening, but telling me to stop talking, because I would irritate the bloody gash on my neck even further. Dr. Kristen Steele asked me whether I am dizzy and I told her that I am. This was when I saw the room go completely dark, and lost consciousness for the second time.
The plane has finally started to move. I notice that a group of students, apparently from a middle school, were also in attendance on the plane. They are talking loudly, in their little groups, and still switching places to sit next to their friends. The smallest girl in the group, with light brown hair, started wailing loudly, and shaking with violent sobs. I realized that it was because her friend refused to sit next to her. I feel sorry for the little girl, yet I know that her story is only still unfolding.
The plane is picking up speed and is moving upward so fast that the middle school group screams. I have that typical sinking feeling one will experience during a rapid change in pressure. I will now take a nap, once the plane evens out, and continue the story of my life in about half an hour, when I wake up.
A woman's voice asks me something about purchasing a meal. I slowly open my eyes and realize that about three hours have passed. I say "no thanks," mostly because staying hungry for now will help fend off jet lag. I remember that I did not always have to sleep to get more energy. Back when I was Diane, I could stay awake nineteen hours each day. I could also move from point A to point B in a way that in my current life, I cannot (Otherwise, I would have skipped the entire plane experience and arrived in Hawaii on time). My dear imaginary audience, how would you feel if you lived a life that was almost magical, and then you had to suddenly change to the life of an average person? I want to go back, and this is part of the reason I am going through the stories from my life with you… But then I know there is a reason that my life was changed.
Most of my life was uneventful after the knife incident. I never heard of or met the man who did this to me, but since then I felt determined to learn why people would do something like this. I started to frequently hack into computers and learn about current events of the outside world, and the knowledge rushed into my unprepared mind. I found out that no one knew that genetically engineered humans existed, and people generally thought that the only thing current technology could achieve was to clone animals, like Dolly the sheep (whose remains are preserved in a museum as though the cloned sheep was the greatest achievement to date). I could see why someone would try to kill me: what if I destroy the world or something, and it just sounds wrong to go and program a human being via a computer….
I created a Yahoo mail account and used it to save a copy of the program that I made to help me look for files. I did not really make the actual program, but rather adjusted the Windows search option to hack into any Internet file, or any computer online at the time, by searching for backdoors. For fun, I made the program look different and display all of the words in genetic code, and found it to be a good thing, since only the top scientists and I could use the searcher. I added a protection of three passwords in genetic code at startup, and named the file containing the program "ATC," as in "Air Traffic Control" and also one of the "stop" codons as in before transcription. This would later prove useful, especially when I went back to retrieve my own files.
The fun started when they started to train me for warfare, as a bio – engineered weapon. I was taught something of a cross between kickboxing and karate, as well as how to use ordinary household items as weapons. My favorite attack was probably taking three chopsticks and throwing them so they spin around and then split off to hit the target. Chopsticks have a dull point, so all they can do is scare a person. A couple of darts could make it possible to pin the person to a wall, by the sleeves of their clothing, and stop them from whatever that was I didn't want them to be doing. My preferred defense is to grab the opponent's arm and quickly move it, so the arm gets dislocated and they can't put up much of a fight anymore. As you can see, I do not really like to hurt people, since my "favorites" don't torture anyone much. A doctor or another person present in the room at the time (if there is one) could put a dislocated arm back into place. A dart, if thrown correctly, will not hit any major blood vessels, but both techniques will slow down/stop an attacker or enemy. These are hard to learn, and I would have some scars to show this, except they all heal without a trace.
I thought of being a weapon as stupid and decided to run away, to see the world and try to have a normal life like everyone else I have read or heard about. I slit my wrist one night, let enough blood escape onto the floor, and then sealed it so the cut could heal. I then left some broken chairs, ripped up clothes, and other stuff, including a gun I stole from some police officer (I made sure he reported that before he got blamed for the "attack" on me). I saw to it that what I was leaving behind looked like a crime scene, and then I left, however I overlooked my necklace. The necklace that I wore from day one of my life, looked like a regular necklace, with a silver chain and the small pendant hanging off of it, however, it had my ID on the other side, and it contained a tracing device, a shocking device, (which sent about 1,000 volts of electricity down my spine when I moved in space then back during the attack, and this was why I passed out twice) and a tiny voice recorder, with a lot of memory. I could not take the tracer/voice recorder/control device off or disable it without a huge electrical shock going off, the size of which would probably leave me in a permanent coma.
I knew that if I were to move in space, away from here, I had to have seen my final destination. This is why I looked up Chicago, and for some unknown reason settled on Olive Park. This is a large, grass – covered area with huge paved circles and large paved roads in between. It is placed neatly on a semi—island surrounded by the blue—green waters of Lake Michigan on all the sides, except the small area where it connected to the rest of Chicago. If you walk a little further into Chicago, you will encounter several intertwined large streets, all bearing the name North Lake Shore Drive. But, I am getting carried away, my dear imaginary audience… I landed in the patch of trees and brush, in the middle of Olive Park. A large building was right in front of me, instead of one of the gray "olives." I found out, that first of all, it would have been a good idea to remember to put on warm clothing, because although it was spring, the cold wind made it feel like winter. Next, I located the entrance to the building, which was on the other side of it, to my left. The building was closed, so I decided to walk in the opposite direction, towards the multiple North Lake Shore Drives.
I do not know why I chose this location… Maybe it was because of the historical significance. Olive Park was dedicated to and named after Milton Lee Olive III, first African American to receive the Medal of Honor in the Vietnam War, for his bravery. He sacrificed his life to save others, using himself to stop the effects of an enemy – launched grenade.
For a month, I lived in Olive Park. This, of course, involved stealing food from nearby stores and sleeping on a wooden bench, sometimes being drenched by the rain or nearly frozen to death, depending on the weather. Despite these problems, I preferred living here and being free to being trained to be a weapon in Area 51. My favorite place was on the edge of the park, next to the view of the lake and the skyline of the tall buildings. When the sun set, the lake shone in very bright colors, and when it became completely dark, I could see the dots of light on the closest buildings. While my living status/condition was set as "homeless," I thought about my life, what I have learned from hacking into the main lab computer, and made the difficult decision that it is better off if the researchers and scientists that made my existence a barely – known reality never again worked on the project. I realized that even the government does not want to really know what is happening and chooses to deny that anything is going on at Area 51 at all.
I knew that they have ways of finding out my location and they would have gotten me back into the lab, however I remembered, and short – circuited the necklace by diving into the lake (at night, so there are no swimmers or divers nearby) and hitting it with a rock. I hoped to die and never be found, but I ended up in a hospital, because although I got an immense dose of electricity it still was not enough to kill me, and someone saw my "dead" body floating in the lake in the morning. I also had a bracelet, which I managed to take off and leave in the lake (later on I figured out that was just my I.D). I guessed that if I got rid of/destroyed everything I had but my clothing they couldn't find me.
I left the hospital after I woke up, every step being painful, and asked random people what the location of Olive Park was. Luckily it was nearby, people told me where to go, and some asked me where my parents are. I said nothing in return, and even ran away if the situation required that. Due to my ability to communicate with my cells, I healed quickly, after a week.
That was when I thought about a suicide plan for the second time. The plan was this: I find a poisonous plant and eat it, and if that does not work, I will steal pain reliever medication from a grocery store and take all of it. The plan never got to the second step, because I managed to find a mysterious poisonous bush with green berries, finding that it is poisonous to humans (or something similar to a human, like me) by reading its genome. For dinner, I had a mouthful of the sour green berries, and after approximately half an hour, I felt the results. My stomach and my head hurt, I obtained a fever, and then everything around me vanished…
* - Mitochondrial DNA – DNA found in mitochondria, inherited from the mother's side of the family. Mitochondria are membrane-enclosed organelles, which produce most of the cell's chemical energy in the form of molecules of ATP.
** - Satellite DNA – highly repetitive, and produces different frequencies of nucleotides than regular DNA. It is used for identifying people, because it varies greatly between individuals.
