Page 34 of Ghosted in Arkadia
“I need more files,” I say, placing my tablet down on Killian’s desk after spending a week on the first set he gave me.
“Woah. Look at you. Reading like a big girl,” James teases. “Cathy would have killed to see this.”
The dark jest lands hard, making my chest tighten and my lips pull into a frown for a moment before I manually correct the expression. But not before James notices.
“You good Blackwell?”
“Sorry,” I mutter, shaking my head and doing my best to remember what it’s like to be mateless. Dark humor and violence, that’s how we cope. “All this adulting must be fuckingwith my sense of humor.” I chuckle, trying my best to remember how I used to be.
“Here.” Killian holds my tablet out with a curt smile. “Have a go at some of the technical terms.”
I take the tablet back to my desk, sitting down and diving straight into the new files before I can fuck up any more interactions that should be easy to navigate. When I open the first folder, I see a chaotic mess of strange symbols and code and finally understand what Killian meant by technical terms. I look up at Killian, but he is busy studying files on his own device. Rather than risk another scene by asking questions, I glance back down at the unfamiliar words on my screen.
Cathy would have waited just to see the look on my face.
In the labyrinthine recesses of my mind, I have unearthed a revelation that transcends the boundaries of conventional morality and scientific orthodoxy. Behold, the unholy communion of complementary DNA segments, a symphony of genetic discordance that beckons me into the abyss of discovery.
The foundation of this heretical doctrine lies in the precise alignment of nucleotide sequences, each a testament to the boundless potentiality of molecular manipulation. Within the tangled helices of DNA, I have glimpsed the faint whispers of genetic destiny, encoded within the very fabric of existence. It is a revelation that threatens to consume me whole, yet I embrace it with fervor akin to that of a zealot embracing divine revelation.
But what of the euphoric ecstasy that awaits those who dare to traverse the chasm of genetic convergence? Ah, it is a siren song that beckons me ever closer to the precipice of madness. I postulate that this euphoria arises not from mere neurotransmitter release, but from the transcendence of mortal limitations through the fusion of complementary genetic deficiencies.
As I stand upon the precipice of revelation, I am reminded of the immortal words of Prometheus, who dared to steal fire from the gods themselves. Like him, I shall defy the constraints of mortal wisdom and seize the flames of enlightenment for myself.
Let the annals of history bear witness to my audacity, for I am the harbinger of a new dawn, where morality bows before the altar of scientific progress. Behold, as I descend into the abyss of genetic convergence, for there can be no salvation without first embracing damnation.-AL
That is the first document, and the closest to something akin to words. The following dozen pages consist of symbols and sketches along with formulas written in the margins. They didn’t teach this type of science in the school I graduated from.
I rub a hand over my eyes, hoping to scrub some words from my mind just to think straight again. Glancing up, I notice it’s almost lunch, a welcome reprieve. A ding sounds from my tablet, catching my attention rather than watching the slowly ticklingclock on the wall. An e-mail from the forensics department. My throat tightens and I swallow hard, staring at the notification.
His name could be in there. I could be one click away from finally knowing my soul mate’s name.
“Kira.” I jerk at the sound of my name and find Killian looking at me. “Lunch,” he says, pointing toward the clock on the wall.
Captain’s door swings open and he heads through the station with a determined gaze, out of sight in mere moments and without a word. I look back at the email notification, my fingers itching to open the file.
“Looks like he’s got plans for lunch. What about you, princess?” Killian asks, but I don’t look up from the screen.
“I’m good here.”
“I was hoping to snag lunch out today,” Killian adds.
“Here.” I grab the cruiser’s key and dangle it in the air between us. “I assume you know how to program the autopilot.”
“You feeling alright, Blackwell? First, you’re reading, now you’re offering to let someone else drive the cat?” James asks, making me look up from the notification.
I pull the keys back to my chest. “I was just testing everyone. Gotta make sure I’m still your favorite source of entertainment since the hive raid has gotten so much attention.” The answer feels vaguely like something I would have said, but it takes James a few moments before a lazy smirk stretches across his lips.
“Like we could ever forget your dumpster fire existence,” James says in a loving tone before heading to the door to go get lunch with Tommy.
“Did you have someplace in particular in mind for lunch?” I ask, turning to face Killian. His mirrored glasses stare back at me, his lips pressed thin. He didn’t know exactly how I acted before the fuckery of my mate affected me so much.
“Do you like sandwiches?”
“Sure,” I shrug, powering off my tablet with a heavy sigh. The email will have to wait for now.
“You don’t have to drive me around.”
“We’re partners.” I give him a small smile. “Besides, no one drives the cat but me.” I smile wider, feeling a bit more like my familiar self. “But you can still program the autopilot for me.”
