Page 42 of Human Reform
“I had minimized my old CE files and pulled up the more recent modification I’d discovered days ago—the one that someone on Planet Alpha had created.”I pointed to both screens, the code patterns flowing in parallel streams.“Laying them side by side, the similarities became glaringly obvious.They weren’t related modifications.They had been crafted by the same person.”
Daxon’s breath caught.“Someone who worked for CE is now here,” he whispered, echoing my earlier realization.
“Yes, and working from the inside,” I confirmed.“And since the patterns matched, I used the original architecture to create this countermeasure patch—one that will override both modifications by using their own methodologies against each other.”
His hand squeezed my shoulder, a gesture of pride that shouldn’t have made me feel as warm as it did.“Brilliant work, Alora.”
I forced myself to focus as I completed the code for the patch prototype and then ran it through the simulation environment on my offline system.My heart raced as the program executed, processing each line of my creation.
The results flashed across the screen: AGGRESSIVE PATTERNS AND REWRITING NEUTRALIZED.FAILSAFE CODE PRESERVED.MEMORY CORE INTEGRITY COMPROMISE DETECTED.
“No, no, no!”I slammed my fist against the desk.“Dammit!”
“What happened?”Daxon’s voice tightened with concern.
I pointed at the results, frustration burning behind my eyes.“The patch works.It would purge the glitches caused by the modification made to my original code, essentially eliminating the violent episodes.The patch would also stop the rewriting of the reprogramming code and keep the failsafe code from failing.But it would also cause core memory loss similar to amnesia.I don’t know to what extent, but it would erase… something.”I swallowed hard.“Basically, you’d forget.”
Daxon’s face shifted into that maddeningly calm expression I was beginning to recognize—the one that meant he’d already made a decision I wouldn’t like.
“I’ll volunteer as the test subject.”
“What?No!”I spun my chair to face him directly.
“We need to know the extent of the memory loss.Perhaps it’s minimal—inconsequential compared to the risk of continued violent episodes and the ultimate reversion back to cold, calculating weapons.”
I stood up so quickly that my chair rolled backward and hit the wall.“Inconsequential?You could lose everything you’ve learned!Your emotions, your personality, your experiences…” My voice dropped to a whisper.“Us.”
His jaw tightened.“My duty is to this colony first.To their safety.”
“Of course it is,” I spat, Tim’s bracelet suddenly feeling heavy on my wrist.“Why would I think anything else?Why would I think that—” My voice cracked.“That I would matter more than your damn duty.”
“Alora—”
“No.”My hands were shaking now.“I can’t lose you.Not after… not after everything.I already lost Tim.I can’t?—”
“This is necessary,” Daxon cut in, his voice steady but his eyes flashing violet.“If it means protection for everyone on Planet Alpha, I have to do this.”
“Even if it means forgetting me?Forgetting us?”I could feel the tears threatening to spill over.
His hesitation told me everything I needed to know.
“Right.Colony first,” I muttered.“Silly me for thinking I might actually matter to someone for once.”
I pushed past him, needing to get away before I completely fell apart.The corridors of the security center blurred as I rushed through them, ignoring the curious looks from Tegan and Sage at their workstations.
I burst out into the humid air of Planet Alpha, gulping it down as if I’d been drowning.My feet carried me down the stone pathways away from the security center, away from Daxon and his self-sacrificing nobility, and away from the pain of realizing I’d let myself hope again.
I found myself in a small clearing surrounded by the vibrant flora of this alien world.Dropping to my knees in the soft moss-like ground cover, I finally let the tears come.They burned hot trails down my cheeks as I sobbed, anger and grief mingling into something raw and primal.
Tim’s bracelet glinted in the dappled sunlight.“You’d like him, you know,” I whispered to my absent brother.“He’s stubborn.Loyal.Infuriating.”A choked laugh escaped between sobs.“But he’d die for what he believes in.Just like you.”
I cried until I had nothing left, emptying myself of everything I’d been holding onto since Tim disappeared, since I left CE, and since I woke up on this strange world three days ago.
And then, like a switch being flipped, the grief transformed into something harder, something with edges.
“No,” I said out loud to the jungle around me.“Not this time.”
I pushed myself to my feet, wiping the tears from my face with the back of my hand.I wasn’t going to let Daxon sacrifice himself—sacrifice us—without a fight.
