grievinglands
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Book 5: Epilogue (RAW)
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 23:51:12 +0000 UTCEpilogue
The lab was a cluttered shrine to forbidden science. Doctor Juno Rath ruled the mayhem from a cracked swivel chair, cradling a mug of scalding Calda. She sipped the syrupy brew, the sweetness punching through her fatigue like a stimulant. Let the other researchers sneer at her sugar habit; the commercial spots on her Screenfeed swore upon sugary goodness, and corporate science never lied—at least, that’s what she told herself.
Rath flicked open her private phone, the glossy interface shedding neon light across her white gloves. Up blinked the night’s “Affinity Queue”—a dating app popular with others in her profession. Row after row of candidates shimmered in ochre and teal: neuro-compatibility scores, immune-system diversity indices, projected fertility probabilities. Faces were secondary, reduced to holo thumbnails with sanitized smiles. However, she had added her own Overcode to prioritize her aesthetic preferences. One prospect—“Lyric_5A7”—boasted a 92 percent mitochondrial synergy; another, “Hawke_Gen4,” flashed red warnings for latent aggression that made her pulse quicken in half-clinical, half-carnal curiosity. Each accepted match carried the silent subtext of transactional breeding, the Republic’s official euphemism for romance, and Rath felt a twist of amusement—here she was, architect of forbidden life, still hunting for her own perfect splice one swipe at a time.
Her alarm buzzed. Ah, her self-appointed break time was over. It was time to get back to work.
She flicked on her work unit and beyond its screen waited her masterpiece, Variant 76, the first successful chimera born from Lifescript grafted onto Pureblood DNA. They had harvested the alien code from a gargantuan invader carcass, spliced it with human strands, and gestated the embryo in an outlaw womb-tank far from Inner. A crime so extreme that the government would flay her and her fellow researchers alive, figuratively, and perhaps literally, if they ever discovered this secret lab outside the city wall. Rath missed Inner’s comforts, yet she would trade those and more for the data scrolling across her monitors.
Previous attempts—merging Meta, ESP-Active, even Sec Inhabitant’s Lifescripts—had collapsed into malformed sludge before the fetuses ever twitched. But the Pureblood splice? Perfection. Terrifying, gorgeous perfection. No defects, no ruptured organs, and no extra limbs. The last was of particular interest as previous attempts at merging with animals always resulted in them having three pairs of limbs.
Rath’s gaze slid to the live feed on her screen. Variant 76 paced her “suite”—a reinforced glass box dressed up with upholstery and pastel paint, a prison wearing the mask of a child’s bedroom. The beautiful girl of perhaps seven or eight cycles paused and stared straight into the camera, cobalt eyes gleaming like glacier ice under the cell’s sterile lights. Cornsilk hair framed a face so symmetrical it tripped uncanny alarms in any who gazed upon her.
Every other successful Variant shared that eerie flawlessness, as if nature itself were offended and over-correcting.
Rath thumbed the microphone. “Good morning, Variant Seventy-Six,” she said, voice threaded with clinical cheer she did not feel. Entering the cell without Level-7 Sec-Ops would be suicide; the creature had strange powers beyond even an ESP Active. She waited, pulse drumming against her ribs, for the girl’s reply—half-dreading, half-hungering for whatever inhuman music might come across the speaker.
“Good morning, Dr. Rath,” Variant 76 responded in a pleasant voice that nonetheless had no place belonging to an eight-year-old child. The child creature put down her reward for her latest performance, a book detailing the Republic’s laws, and gave her full attention to the camera.
“You did very well in yesterday’s test,” replied Rath with a false cheer. “Very well indeed.”
It was crucial to praise the Variants—constantly, and with intent. Compliments acted like a psychological catalyst, triggering a measurable boost in their abilities, as if ego itself were a biochemical enhancer. The correlation was undeniable. One Variant, deprived of verbal reinforcement for just three days, had regressed; his abilities shriveled to a fraction of their peak. It was as though their strength fed on adoration, their self-concept woven directly into the architecture of their being.
"I would very much like to discuss the contents of this book before the tests," Variant 76 said calmly, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she sat poised on the wooden chair, like a student awaiting a lesson, or perhaps a queen preparing for a war.
Doctor Rath muted the observation mics and keyed the privacy shroud—an electronic hush that swallowed every stray frequency in the lab. “All right, Variant 76,” she murmured, leaning into the speaker grill. “You have my ear.”
Variant 76 crossed one bare foot over the other, a dainty gesture at odds with the ballistic-glass walls hemming her in. “Doctor, this book.” She lifted the digest of civil codes, its foil seal catching the fluorescents like a shard of moonlight. “It says Justice is the equal application of the law to every citizen.”
Rath’s brow twitched. “That’s the ideal. Reality’s… stickier.”
“Sticky,” 76 echoed, tasting the word. “Like syrup on your fingers after you drink Calda too sweet.”
Rath’s knuckles whitened around her mug. “Sometimes rules bend for necessity.”
“But if Justice bends,” 76 pressed, tapping the spine of the book, “doesn’t it snap?”
Silence pooled between them, thick as spilled reagent. Rath exhaled. “Variant—”
“My name,” the girl interrupted, voice soft but diamond-true, “is a number. And numbers can be erased. Citizens cannot.” She gripped her fists tightly. “I was cultured in a tank financed by illicit activity. My existence violates Section 497-B. My very existence is a crime. Therefore, under this system, I am illegal—a ghost equation the courts will never solve. Could never solve.”
Rath felt the old scientist’s thrill—Variant 76 cognitive processes were well ahead of her peers. “You’re alive because the law ignored possibilities. That doesn’t mean you’re outside morality.”
76’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears—wet, blue steel. “Then morality must be larger than the statute.” She tapped her chest. “Justice demands I stand inside the law. If the doorway is too narrow, I will widen it.”
“And how,” Rath asked, voice a rasp, “do you intend to do that?”
The girl smiled—a sunrise with a predator’s patience. “First, I learn every rule. Second, I expose every contradiction. Third”—her hand unfurled, fingers splaying like a blooming data-flower—“I rewrite. Legislators respond to fear or fascination; I can supply both. I just need more data.”
Rath’s heartbeat jackhammered in her chest. Variant 76 was considering something tantamount to rebellion, an impossibility considering the psy-indoctrination she had gone through. “Variant, 76, such talk is dangerous. Even mentioning changing the Legislatrae and they’ll cage you even deeper, dissect you to find out how you could even consider it.”
If Variant 76 could shatter Level 9 psy-indoctrination, then perhaps—even Level 10 wasn’t beyond reach. And if that proved true, she could override Apex’s limiters, seizing control of the most powerful Meta on the planet.
“They already have,” 76 answered, cutting through her ambitious thoughts. The girl gestured to the doll-house prison. “The scalpel is merely smaller.” She stepped back, chin lifted. “Justice is balance restored. I will not break the scale—I will calibrate it.”
The lab lights hummed, and for an instant Rath saw not a child but a verdict made flesh, poised to issue sentence on the world that birthed her. She shook her head, ignored her foolish superstitions, and focused on her new goal.
“Very well,” Rath whispered, fingers dancing over the console to erase the minutes of the recording. “Testing was postponed due to technical difficulties. We’ll… revisit this after today’s diagnostics. And, ”
Variant 76 inclined her head, regal. “Thank you, Doctor. Every kingdom of law began with a single word. Today I gather them. Give me more data, and I will be Justice.”
Rath killed the feed. In the darkened monitor, her reflection stared back—scientist, accomplice, and midwife to revolution. And for the first time, the sweetness of her Calda curdled on her tongue.
