I still cling to Kade, savouring every moment of his touch, knowing soon we will be torn apart and I will be forced into the Transformation of The Human Condition – TRANSHUMAN.
"Tanya, you are the beginning of the future." Said the spokesperson for The Three Surgeons. His voice was clear and concise, his presence unseen. Yet he has the same condescending tone of my father – even though I know it isn't him. He continued, all bright and breezy as if they were privileging me with the greatest favour, "A future wherein life will no longer be finite, but as infinite as the universe itself," he espoused, with a cheer at odds with our fear.
I'm filled with regret for the insanity of my actions. I should never have locked Kade into Saferoom#3.
I should have known they would use my weakness to control and twist our life's narrative – and I know they've not worked alone to achieve this.
My rage surfaces and I lift my head from Kade's neck, "Promise me you'll find out who betrayed us, the snakes who gave them access to the codes?" I implore, whilst shaking his shoulders.
Kade pulls me back into him, hugging me tight to quash my trembling, "Tan, now's not the time to talk of revenge. Don't let our final physical moments together be filled with rage." When his hug tightens further, I feel my rage subside and my body melds with his.
I wish this moment could be infinite.
But of course it can't be.
The man's voice booms back into the space – "Tanya, please disentangle yourself from Kade," he says, with an authoritarian assertion.
My rage answers for me, "NO!" I shout, clinging to Kade like a limpet.
His voice drops, "If you do not do as I ask, then Kade will be taken into your Transitional Theatre and immediately disposed of," he says, calmly.
Kade whispers in my ear, "Let go Tan, hear him out."
I peel myself from Kade and stand next to him with my head bowed. It is clear many are observing us, but it is this unseen presence that continues to be their spokesperson.
His voice enters our space again – "Please listen carefully. From the time I utter my last word today, you will have thirty-three-minutes-three seconds of physical time left together. When that time expires, our people will arrive and take you both into the Transitional Theatre wherein a highly skilled team of Surgeons and H+ Experts will begin preparing Tanya for her Transition to Transhuman."
During a pause, Kade and I exchange nervous glances before he continues – "Kade will be taken into a specially constructed booth, wherein he will be forced to observe the entire procedure. Although this is a procedure that is most complex, I shall talk you through the initial stages in simple terms."
During his second pause, Kade takes my hand – "Firstly, Tanya will be prepped before being anesthetised. Our team of Three Surgeons will then proceed to remove Tanya's brain. This is the most important and risky portion of the procedure. Once Tanya's brain has been isolated and handed over to our Transhuman Transitional Team (H+). Only then will all of Tanya's organs be harvested by the auxiliary team, who will begin the process of recycling Tanya's physical body in its entirety."
On his third pause, Kade puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into him – "It is estimated that this whole procedure will take 24 hours to complete. But of course this will only be the beginning of Tanya's transition to Transhuman. It will perhaps take years before Tanya becomes fully transcendent."
When he speaks again, Kade and I are mindful of his last word so we can gauge our final minutes – "But our ultimate hope is that Tanya will be enhanced beyond humanity. And you Kade, will be the inaugural physical person to have a relationship with the world's first Transhuman. A relationship that will be observed studied and recorded for the future good of Humankind."
When he pauses again, Kade jumps in, "So we're being used as subjects in an experiment, for another of your Clinical Trials?" he asks.
His answer is swift, "Put crudely, yes."
Kade squeezes my hand.
It's a series of long squeezes that speak to me.
It's Kade's code to communicate he's realised something: an idea, an insight, a plan has popped into his beautifully brilliant mind.
I remain rationale as the spokesperson continues his speak – "I shall be taking leave of you within the next few seconds."
Our ears prick up, ready for his final word that will give us our achingly short final time – "Please use your final physical moments together wisely – and remember, from the time of my last word you have thirty-three-minutes-three seconds before the commencement of Tanya's transition."
That's it.
His voice has gone.
My eyes glare at the large clock on the wall and I watch the second hand count down three seconds.
I glance at Kade, "We've got a half-hour and three minutes left," I say, flinging my arms around him.
He whispers in my ear, "Tan, we de-railed their first Clinical Trial, we can do the same with this one."
I pull back – "HOW!"
He puts his finger to his mouth, "Shhhhhh, they're watching, listening." He kisses his hand and puts it over my mouth, "Don't say another word."
Kade glances at the clock, then around the space.
He grabs my hand, and in it I feel the energy coursing through his veins.
He pulls me toward a cabinet, opens it and retrieves a pen and paper.
He places the paper on the table and pulls off his sweatshirt.
He pulls me tight into him.
He bends us both down and places his sweatshirt over our heads.
He creates a cosy cocoon that offers privacy from prying eyes.
Then he begins to write, his words scribing speedily across the page.
I focus and read – 'We know someone's betrayed us, I have no clue who. But someone is saving us and I have a clue who that might be.'
He puts the pen down.
I pick it up and scrawl, 'Who?'
Kade picks up the baton – 'Whoever that man's voice belongs to.'
Incredulous about where Kade's going, I grab the pen, 'Are you serious? You heard him, he's working for them.'
Kade continues to scribe, 'What he said at the beginning and at the end. I believe he's offering a route to saviour in the time we have left: thirty-three-minutes-thirty seconds.'
The pen's mine again, 'I don't understand?'
I give him back the pen and see urgency in his flourish – '333 – there's a message in that number.'
I snatch the pen back, "What's the message?"
Kade snatches a look at the clock before returning undercover and scribbling – 'I don't know, but we've got 24 minutes to figure it out!'
