Sergei Lukyanenko - The Genome

“Basho. Sappho.”

“Which order do you recite them in, I wonder…”

“Chopin. Tchaikovsky.”

“Are we done with the poets, then?” asked Alex.

“Dante…” said the girl with a hint of doubt. “Gumilev. Bykov. Robespierre.”

“What’s that?” asked Alex, suddenly interested. Looked back at Kim. She licked her lips and started talking very rapidly.

“Churchill. Lenin. Marx. Gandhi. Gates. Dan Lao Wang…”

Alex lowered himself into a chair, closed his eyes, stretched out his legs. He was very tired. And the girl kept talking and talking, zooming through Earth’s history with the ease and precision of an artillery round. The list was slightly unbalanced in favor of music and poetry, but politics, art, architecture, and science were covered.

Seemed like Kim really was following the track of her metamorphosis. The facts loaded into her prenatally were now exploding in her mind like tiny bombs. Behind every name she recited was a whole image of the person, complete with dates of life and death, life events, paintings and poems, lines from speeches, rumors, maybe even films and archival videos.

All that was nice. But totally useless for a fighter-spesh.

Alex dozed off.

Several times he was awakened by silence. Kim would get quiet, and then start speaking in German, which Alex barely knew, then switch to Japanese, English, Russian, Chinese. She was long done with the names. Now she was simply holding conversations with nonexistent people. Conversations about nothing.

“Your offer is very flattering, monsieur…”

Then Alex would again sink into sleep. He was trained to rest sporadically, dropping off for a few minutes, waking up instantaneously to evaluate the situation, then going back to sleep. It was a very useful skill in his line of work. But no one had ever instructed him in World History. No spesh had any need for that.

“Yes, Your Highness…”

The pilot slept.

“Alex…”

He opened his eyes.

The girl was sitting on the edge of the bed, with a sheet wrapped around her. Her cheeks were hollowed, and her eyes shone feverishly. But she was fully conscious.

And not at all different.

“Where’s the crystal?”

Alex threw an indicative glance at the table. Kim jumped up, holding the sheet to her chest, walked toward the table, and took up the glass.

“In here?”

The pilot gave a silent nod.

Kim’s fingers slid into the water. Felt the invisible facets of the crystal, and her face immediately relaxed.

“Turn around… please.”

He turned around. When he looked back at her again, the glass was half-empty and no longer contained the crystal.

“I went through my metamorphosis?” asked the girl.

Alex nodded.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Kim laughed softly.

“I… I was so scared. An off-track metamorphosis can kill you, right?”

“It tried to. I didn’t consent.”

“Alex…” She immediately became serious. “Friend-spesh, I am grateful for your help. I will pay you back in kind.”

“I believe you.” Reluctantly, he got up from the chair. Last night’s impressions had already faded a bit. Only fatigue remained.

“Take a shower, and I’ll get us some breakfast, room service. You hungry?”

“Famished.”

“All is well, then.”

He searched her face for any traces of change. If only her eyes now had vertical pupils, or she had pointy ears… or there was any change in her skin tone and texture…

Alex reached over and patted Kim on the cheek. She smiled, accepting this display of affection without any embarrassment.

Her skin was just skin.

“Why does your Demon look so puzzled?”

Alex gloomily glanced at the tattoo.

“Because he’s stupid. Kinda like me. Go wash up.”

“Thanks.” She leaned toward him slightly, getting on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. Then, giggling, vanished behind the bathroom door.

“I just don’t get it!” said Alex bluntly. Was it possible that the metamorphosis did get off track after all? The psychological phase went fine, but the body remained unchanged? But her heart did move. And then there was that pocket under her ribs… Well, the pocket had been there before.

He went up to the computer screen and ordered a hearty breakfast for three from the hotel cafe. He had no doubt that Kim could handle enough food for two.

When she came out, looking refreshed in her cheap hotel bathrobe, the breakfast had already arrived. Scrambled eggs with mushrooms, boiled veal, tons of toast and juice, plus coffee—Alex had his own ideas about breakfast for a young spesh girl.

“Oh, I can’t eat all that,” protested Kim, catching a glimpse of the table.

“It only seems like a lot. Come here.” He unwrapped her robe, and the girl tensed up a little. Alex did not pay any attention to that. Touched her chest.

Okay, fine. Her heart was in the middle. Her lungs had probably equalized in size. Where her esophagus and trachea had moved was anybody’s guess.

“Kim, what were you supposed to transform into?”

“Something wrong?” she asked quickly.

“I’d have to know what’s right before I could tell you if anything is wrong. What were you supposed to become?”

“A fighter-spesh… I think.”

“You think?”

“No one ever told me much about it.” Kim kept looking down at his hand. “I think I was meant to be a fighter-spesh… I have… I mean, I had a friend… He was programmed to become a fighter… and… we had the same training…”

“Weapons, hand-to-hand combat, tactics and strategy?” Alex moved his hand away.

“Yes…”

“Weird. You know that a fighter’s skin, for example, changes in texture and takes on a grayish tint?”

Kim frowned. “I actually think that’s beautiful…”

“I won’t argue with you. But it didn’t happen to your skin. And you have no other signs of change.”

“Something went wrong, then? I’m not done with my metamorphosis?”

She was really scared.

“Maybe, maybe not. Every specialization has its own sub-categories. I am not an expert on fighter transformations… You’ll have to see a doctor. Sit down and eat.”

Kim ate fast, and that was not at all surprising. What was surprising was that she nevertheless managed to eat gracefully, even beautifully.

Alex finished his eggs, drank his coffee, and went over to the computer screen. His ship’s documentation was waiting there in the printer tray.

He started to read, fully expecting to be unpleasantly surprised.

But as he read, he grew more and more confused.

Mirror was an interstellar-class vessel built for versatility. Something between a pleasure craft and a passenger ship, it had a biodome, good rigging, very decent weapons, and a great set of engines. A dream of a ship. An up-to-six-member crew, and space for twice that number of passengers. All in all, this was not a contract Alex would have turned down even if he had a lot of time to really think it over. The rank of captain, and the right to pick his own crew…

“No one is this lucky…” he murmured.

“Alex, where did you get the money? Yesterday you were broke.”

“I found a job.” Alex folded the sheet, stuck it in his coat pocket. “Kim, where are you from?”

“Far away.”

“Okay. Do you have anywhere to go in this city? A place to live, a way to make some money?” Her eyes looked a little frightened.

“No. I mean, yes… but I’d rather not.”

“I see,” said Alex. “I have to leave for now. You can stay here. You can wait for me or just rest up and disappear.”

“I’ll… wait for you.” The girl lowered her eyes.

“Okay. Get your card, I’ll transfer some money over. You’ll need to change.”