The Sowing

As we’re marched along, I can’t stop staring at him, wishing we’d never left that park we landed in. It was the only time since we’ve met that we were truly free and happy, if only for a short while.

We reach a flight of steps leading up to a triangular platform. In its center, a transparent, bubblelike container is suspended by translucent cables pulsating with glowing light and leading into a bank of flashing, oblong instruments. The bubble descends and splits open like a blooming flower, its interior large enough to encase a body.

My heart forgets to beat.

I feel like a cornered animal. My fight-or-flight instinct is triggered in a mad rush of panic and adrenaline, as if I were back competing in the Trials.

But Digory’s face is calm, resolute. He stares back at me with weary eyes, the hint of a reassuring smile on his lips.

The Fleshers prod us closer to the bubble. Cassius and Straton are already waiting there, the flickering light from the cables alternately bathing them in eerie iridescence, which gives their eyes an almost glowing effect, and shadows, which carve their features into hard edges.

I take a step toward Cassius. “Please. Don’t do this. He’s been through enough. Take me instead.”

My words break Digory’s calm façade. He grunts and pushes forward, trying to shield me with his body.

“L-Lucky.” His deep voice echoes through the chamber.

The sound of my name from his lips freezes me in place. It’s been forever since I’ve heard it. And all at once I’m flooded with joy and grief.

I press my body against Digory’s. He pulls me close and our lips press together; we relish our warmth in the coldness of this place. In this one kiss, there’s a lifetime of regret—for all that was lost and for what will never be. Hot tears sting my eyes, mingling with his. There’s so much I want to say, but the words don’t come…

The four Fleshers move in closer to us. I catch the gleam of their pincers poised to strike, and this time it’s me who covers Digory with my body.

“Digory, listen to me,” I whisper in his ear. “There are too many of them. They’ll kill us both if we try anything.”

His chest heaves and his muscles tense. Slowly, his body relaxes again.

“I’m a-afraid, Lucian,” he says, the words coming with great effort.

“Why?”

“Things they’ve done… to me… made me do… not the same person…”

I can tell that speaking is a monumental effort for him, but he’s determined to get the words out.

Reaching out, I wipe a tear from his eye and he clutches my hand to his face.

“Begin the final phase of the Ultra Imposer Program on Tycho.” Cassius’s voice is low, emotionless. He may as well be one of the Fleshers himself.

Two of the Fleshers grip Digory while the other two clutch me.

And then we’re torn apart.

“Don’t let them make you forget,” I call to him. “Never give up.”

This time he smiles. “Never forget you.”

Then he’s dragged into the bubble, his body shackled into a spread-eagled position. All of his muscles tense as the bubble seals shut, trapping him inside.

Cassius and Straton bark orders, but they’re nothing but muffled sounds in my ears as I watch the glowing nanotech fluid fill the sphere—crawling up Digory’s calves, slithering up the mounds of his thighs, tightening around his waist before swarming over his heaving chest and neck and engulfing his head.

Our eyes meet one last time—a look of longing and pain—before his face is immersed in the fluid.

I can’t breathe. I’ve never felt so helpless. All I can do is watch as his body writhes in the swirling mass of protoplasmic goo.

The minutes stretch into an unbearable blur as his body finally begins to still.

And then it ceases to move completely.

Straton studies the readouts. “He’s quite a strong specimen, but it appears his body isn’t rejecting the nanotech cells.” He looks up from the monitor, his face glowing in the reddish haze. “Assimilation has begun.”

The words strike me like a bullet. At first I’m dizzy with emptiness. But that’s quickly filled with rage. This time I won’t hesitate to kill Cassius.

Cassius nods. “Transfer Tycho’s body to a cryogenic tube and prepare it for transport, along with Talon’s medpod. It’s time for me to get back to the Parish.”

I catch one last glimpse of Digory as the Sanctum techs descend on the bubble to carry out Cassius’s orders. Within minutes, the fluid is drained from the sphere and Digory’s body is transferred into its new prison, a cryo capsule that’s loaded onto a glider transport and carried away, taking what’s left of my soul with it.

Straton glances at me, then back to Cassius. “What about this one? When can we begin the hippocampus stimulation phase?”

“This one,” Cassius says, “is not to be touched until I give authorization, as per our agreement. Understood?”

Straton can barely hide his anger. “Understood.”

I shoot a look at Straton and then Cassius. “Hippocampus is part of the brain, isn’t it? Why the hell are you interested in my memories? Does this have something to do with that Sowing Protocol?”