Project Alpha

Chapter Two

Blind ambition or scientific reality? Genetic start-up talks IPO.

SAN JOSE — In a surprise announcement this morning, The CEO of California start-up GENOSYM Technologies revealed initial paperwork has been filed for a public offering, aiming to raise $150 million.

The time for change isn't somewhere in our future. The time for change is now," said founder Scott Gaines. "With the proper investment, we believe GENOSYM will pioneer the breakthroughs of tomorrow, today."

***

I'd been naive. Happily, stupidly, blindly naive. Until the dreams started. Until the sensory overload leaked from my nights into my days. Until I freaked the hell out and my parents had no choice but to clue me in.

Dad reached out and squeezed my hand. "What you've been experiencing — the sounds, the visions, we've... been expecting it. You don't know how special you are, sweetheart. This is just the beginning."

My hand went limp in his grasp. "You knew this was going to happen? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong, Marin. You're perfect — exactly as we meant for you to be." Taking off his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It's okay, Mark." Mom kissed his cheek and sat down beside us. "It's time."

Dad turned off the car. I blinked and the memory dissolved. The parking lot was full of people milling around like bees inside a hive. I tasted blood; without realizing it, I'd been gnawing at my bottom lip.

"Ready?" Mom's blue eyes were kind.

"Does it matter if I say no?" I watched her lips turn down. "Kidding. I'm fine. Really." Cocking an eyebrow, I ignored the pitter-patter of my heart.

Mom scanned my face for an extra beat, then smiled.

"You're going to love it, sweetie — just wait, you'll see."

What other choice did I have? I'd wait, but I wasn't convinced I'd see things as she did.

Dad glanced at his watch. "The session starts in ten minutes. Come on, let's go."

Unlocking the doors, we escaped the car. With a deep breath, I followed my parents into the swarm that crowded the narrow path.

Together we climbed stone steps until we reached Mendel's front entrance. A large crest was etched above tall, transparent doors. Each quadrant of the crest featured an image: a musical note, the pi symbol, an eye, and a figure with its arms raised jubilantly to the sky. Underneath, the words ALPHA PACK INFINITUM were written in scrolling text.

Before I could take a closer look, a bell rang, the doors opened, and we moved inside.

Sunlight spilled across the atrium's marble floor. Under soaring ceilings, a company of attendants directed traffic, wearing navy blazers with Mendel's crest embroidered in gold on their chests. Motioning toward a glass-enclosed stairway, they urged us to congregate in the auditorium above.

Surrounded by unfamiliar faces, I stared at my feet to avoid eye contact as we climbed the polished steps. The crowd buzzed, hugging my sides, and I squirmed as a droplet of perspiration crawled down the back of my neck.

Smooth, Marin. Sweaty girl for the win.

My cheeks burned and I stuffed clammy hands into the pockets of my skirt.

Atop a sunlit hallway, we streamed into an intimate theatre, following ushers down to the second row. Wedged between my parents, I pulled out my phone.