Human (46 page)

Alex took a deep sigh. “It’s the age old argument, isn’t it? Whether advances in the human condition brought about by hobbit experimentation are undertaken at the expense of human character. Do unto others…”

They continued walking for a few minutes in silence as they each considered those words. Orrin followed the line of buildings, hoping he was still on the right track. The courier pushed the cage behind them as they walked, content to keep to himself.

Finally, Alex spoke again. “I don’t like what I do, you know. I enable pain and death everyday. But if I didn’t do it, imagine how much worse their lives might be. The animals in labs get the raw end of the deal, but at least I can make sure they get food and water, vet care and pain relief while they’re being used. I make the corps accountable. You don’t want to know some of the cases I’ve had to deal with, Orrin. It’d make your stomach turn. It’s a hard line, but I’m making a difference.”

Orrin nodded. “What are the chances it’ll change for them?” he asked.

Alex considered for a moment. “Pretty slim I’d say. I mean, there’s been a push for legislation to extend basic human rights to them for some time. They’d have the right to live, the protection of individual liberty and the prohibition of torture. Same as us. To extend our rights to non-human primates would ensure invasive research practices are more regulated and in some cases, certain practices would be outlawed.”

“So why not do it then?” Orrin asked.

Alex shrugged. “Well, the argument goes back and forth in parliament, never any closer to a resolution,” he said. “Giving them human rights would likely affect human welfare, as in
sapien
welfare. Obviously, the benefits to human medical research could be severely stunted as potential new discoveries are shunned in favour of civil rights. Does the greater good to human society outweigh the cost in hobbit and primate lives in laboratories?”

“Surely they’ll need a lab alternative at some point though? Computer simulations, tissue culture, that sort of thing,” Orrin argued. “In my reality, I mean, um, from what I understand, most apes are on the brink of extinction anyway aren’t they?”

“Absolutely. But that weighs against them just as strongly. Most politicians advocate that the remainder of apes including hobbits, still alive, should be used for human medical advancement while they’re still a viable resource.”

“A viable resource, hey?” Orrin shook his head. That term had once been used on him.
So clinical.
He inclined his head toward the steel cage rolling behind them down the path. “So what’s happening to this
viable resource
then?”

Alex flicked through his folder of paperwork. “It’s publicly accessible information so I guess I can tell you. Twelve-year-old male. Bred in captivity - looks like this one’s a brain study. Greyson has an extensive research grant and runs a pretty strict lab. Apparently we never have any problems with his treatment methods. Aside from the obvious of course - his resources need to be euthanized for the protocol to work. He’s got a bunch of PhD’s in there analysing the magnetite in their frontal lobe, trying to figure out how it all works.”

Orrin stopped walking. “Why on earth do they have magnetite in their brains?”

Alex looked up at him, more surprised than before. “I’d have thought you’d already know, being a physicist and all.” He frowned at Orrin’s blank look. “Magnetism. For their navigation, of course. They have homing capabilities like a pigeon, an amazing directional sense. Not to mention the high amount of cryptochrome proteins in their eyes and sinus bones – they’ve got magnetoception all sewn up. It’s some sort of synchronistic development from evolving in South East Asia. All that metal that’s getting ripped out of the continental shelf; we only found it because of the hobbits. Colonials discovered them and their hardwired connection to the deposits underground, then mined the bejeezus out of it. If it weren’t for those hobbits, half of the planet would be missing its electricity right now.”

Orrin was stunned.
Hard-wired connection to the metal deposits under South East Asia.
He felt like his mind exploded and had no idea what to do with the new information. There was something so tantalizing about the idea that an animal, human, whatever- had evolved such an intimate connection with metal. And not just any metal, but
magnetite
, the elusive crystals thought to give animals the ability to sense the polarity of the Earth’s magnetic field. And the Earth’s magnetic field, now
that
was something Orrin could get excited about.

Miraculously, they had paused in front of a sign welcoming visitors to the Department of Anatomical Sciences. The cage behind them jolted on its trolley and a quiet whine came from inside.

“The tranquilizer’s wearing off,” the courier offered.

Orrin stepped closer to the cage and saw that the ends of five small fingers had curled through the wide mesh opening on the top, gripping the crossed wires. Again, a soft whine came from the black hole inside the cage and Orrin could just make out the shine of eyes looking up from the dark.
Twelve years old.
Orrin felt sick. He turned to Alex who was eyeing the building laboratory directory.

“Will he feel it?”

Alex’s grim expression returned and his shoulders sagged under the weight of responsibility once more. “Absolutely.” He shook Orrin’s hand and laid the other on the top of the cage. “But I’ll do what I can for him. I always do.”

The physics lab was empty when Orrin returned. He was relieved. Dale’s confidence in their ability to recreate the energy shifts seemed desperately hinged on Orrin’s own. Those times that Orrin inevitably felt he’d hit another wall, Dale floundered and it took all of Orrin’s remaining energy to drag him back up to keep working. Exhausted and sick of being under an emotional microscope, Orrin collapsed into his office chair.

There was no doubt in Orrin's mind that Ivy was the catalyst for some monumental shift in human evolution.
Homo floresiensis. Hobbit.
The very name itself was absurd, but the reality of their impact was devastating. They had brought environmental ruin into the twenty-first century and social chaos onto the streets. For all that he'd tried not to think of it, the blood on that river stone came back to plague him.
What did they do to you?
Orrin shuddered at a new vision that swum before his burning eyes. Ivy bound and helpless, a sacrificial blade bearing swiftly upon her throat in primitive appeasement to some archaic idol
. Jaysus, no. She would fight. Wouldn’t she?

That shield she cloaked herself with had deflected Orrin's prying questions so skilfully he’d almost missed her talent for it. She had let him stumble around her instead, hidden and safe in her own mind, always the objective observer.

No, not always.

Her blanket of self-protection mocked the rebellious passion that had burned in her eyes during that rally.

A shield it was, but shields could be thrown down. Passions could be ignited and flames cast. There was fire inside of her.

And Orrin knew.
She would fight.

He considered going home for the night, but not seriously enough.
What’s the point?
Here he could work. At home he would be plagued with nightmares, failing again and again. He needed something to distract him while he worked. Orrin looked around. Fallen from the side of his desk onto an old oscilloscope, Orrin noticed his headphones.
Music.
It was as good a distraction as any.

Orrin pulled his phone from his pocket and thumbed through his playlist.

. He sucked in a breath and felt the chill that raced his spine. He'd forgotten.

Ivy had pushed her fringe behind her ear and he'd watched, wishing he had the nerve to reach out and do it for her. The cello case was balanced on her foot, almost standing as tall as she.

“Did you have an audience in here or something?”

“No, I just like practising in here sometimes.” Ivy had shrugged, blushing. “The acoustics are good and there's an audio recording facility set up for tutorial sessions. Students use it so they can slacken off in class and download the sessions later.” Typical. Orrin laughed as she continued. “When it's quiet, I record my cello practice so I can play it back at home. It helps me pick up mistakes.”

“I bet there aren't any. Mistakes, I mean.”

And he had done it. On a whim later that night, he'd logged into the tutorial room audio files and downloaded the track before it was deleted.
Le Cygne - The Carnival of the Animals.
And it was beautiful. Orrin didn't know much about music; he'd never played an instrument. But he'd listened to Ivy's cello sing against its bow and was sure he was hearing perfection. He'd played it a few times over, then gone to bed and forgotten it. Until now.

As he touched the play button on his phone, he almost thought it wouldn't work. That this one final thing, undisputed evidence that he had known her and touched her, would disappear as well. But
no
. The recording began. Strings humming softly under a bow. A few notes and plucks to tune.

Then Ivy.
That haunting melody that took him right back to her kitchen as if it were yesterday, where she had closed her eyes as she played, lost in the music. Her fingers had danced on the neck of it and Orrin was transfixed, holding his coffee as it went cold, unable to look away. He'd never understood music before. He'd enjoyed it, appreciated the artistry, of course. But finally, Orrin suddenly understood it. Ivy's soul and fire were resonating within the cello's song.
The Carnival of the Animals.
Her passion and purpose.
The Animals.

It had survived. Of course it had, his phone had been with him, in his pocket. It had been protected, as he had himself. And he had never been more grateful for small mercies. More than the river stone or amulet, this was truly Ivy.

Orrin listened to the track on repeat for an hour. Unlocking his desk drawer, his hand closed over her amulet. Removed from its archaeological wrappings, it should have been stone cold against the locked metal drawer, but instead it radiated heat like warm skin. He couldn’t let it go.

The sky grew dark unnoticed. Trapped in his tiny office, Orrin sank back into his work, looking for that elusive link that might explain how the bizarre measurements his laboratory had undergone could unravel Ivy's disappearance.

A shrill ring tone jolted his attention from the computer screen. It was past midnight.
Dimitri Angelis.
He thumbed the receiver in relief.

“Dimi?”

It was all Ivy could do to hold herself back. She clenched her jaw as Krue regaled the entire tribe with his tale of her duplicity, revelling in the shocked whispers and panic he provoked. As much as she itched to grab Krue and shake the truth out of him it would only serve to validate his lies. Gihn held the amulet tightly against her wrist, acting as translator.

“How dare you!” Ivy finally yelled, towering over him. “I saved your life! That karathah hunter would have killed you without a second thought. I nearly died to save you and this whole tribe and you’re still questioning my loyalty?” Ivy was livid. “I've already lost everything. It was
you
that brought
me
here, Krue.
Your
people! You stole my life by doing it and now you thank me with accusations! Perhaps I
should
join the karathah; at least they might appreciate me!” The minute the words left her lips, Ivy regretted it. A collective gasp echoed through the crowd and for a moment, Ivy imagined many were seeing her as she really was; an outsider and Homo sapien, and not the saviour they’d received her as. No doubt some of them, like Krue, saw only a threat in her presence, but for the most part, the hobbits accepted and perhaps even loved her. She scowled at Krue who looked spitefully gratified at her outburst. Ivy took a calming breath. She addressed the group at large.

“The karathah hunter that we found at the hot spring has been poisoning the water. He has been deliberately killing your hunters for many moons with this plant.” Ivy held up the bowl and Rosary Pea seeds that the man had left by the waterhole. “Kyah and I fought him and chased him away, but he left his belongings behind. I brought them to you to prove what he did.” She shot an angry look to Krue. “I will explain how he did it to anyone who wants to understand, but the most important thing to know is this; the Swift Death is over. No more hunters will get sick and die from it, as long as you do as I say.”