The God Codex

16. Survive

"The world is dying," I say loud enough so those in this room can hear me. "Not only are the streets filled with bodies from the initial blasts, but homes are filling up as well. At this very moment, thousands continue to die from radiation sickness. Give or take a month or more, and there will be no complex life left on Earth, so I beg you. Forget your tiredness and hunger for a few more days and help me. Not everyone stranded on the surface has had fatal exposure, so we can still save them."

I turn, eyeing the fifty-plus geniuses the Sentries collected that night. "You are here because I brought you here. Any other time, you would not even know this base existed. It is not a holiday. It is not even a haven for you to ride out this disaster and emerge on the surface a survivor thirty years down the track. You're here because you're the brightest in your fields, and we could extract you in time to save your lives."

"Make no mistake." I turn to Zeke, his hand still hovering over the keyboard. "Right now, our survival as a species depends on what you do here in this lab in the coming days. For the past nineteen years, CodeTech has developed a military-grade nanotech interface. It's the only reason you see these soldiers able to walk into radioactive zones and rescue survivors, from homes, offices, or bunkers where they hide, dying an excruciating, slow death."

I feel a sense of resignation as I say the next bit. I did not come here to give a lecture today. Why can't they sense the urgency I feel?

"We have granted you access to all our vast data, research, and tech, in the hope you can help us help the survivors. They are relying on us. We are no longer just trying to keep our soldiers alive, we are trying to save humanity."

"But what you're asking is impossible, Dr Amour. Shielding tech for radiation using injectable nano-tech?" One doctor, a middle-aged woman with an olive complexion, looks baffled by the memo in her hand. "It will take us months, if not years, to develop."

I sigh at that moment and massage the bridge of my nose and whisper one word, "Camouflage." Within moments, I hear gasps echo across the room.

"Dr Amour?" someone near me hisses in shock.

"Camouflage," I repeat the word out loud, holding my hands out for them to see. I even do a turn around the room so they can all get a glimpse. The skin on my hands shimmers a shade of gun-metal black. In fact, at this moment, every inch of my skin is the same. "I call it nightshade. A handy trick for our men and women in covert missions. No one sees them coming in the dark."

I walk over to the biology end of the lab, and men and women part like the sea for Moses — scared and intrigued. I find a scalpel and hold out my palm, and whisper, "Shield," — before I slice my palm open.

Hands fly to mouths. Screams and shouts and gasps escape them. But nothing. There is not even a scratch on my palm, let alone a gaping wound or blood. "Shield. Another handy coding that protects and makes these soldiers near bullet-proof. It's the reason they can go out there at all right now. The tech is already there, Dr Fernandez. All I'm asking from you is to make it do more than just shield. I want you to make it holistic, think of the whole body, not just the surface. I am asking you to speed up human evolution so that we may survive past this Dark Age."

I return my skin to normal and replace the scalpel back where I found it.

"These soldiers are already bulletproof, self-healing, programmable; equipped with sat-nav communications, and ability to monitor their own vitals, and maximise their energy usage." I point at the handful of soldiers standing at attention on the other side of the room. "Now, make them safe from radiation and the horrid things it brings."

The oncologist in the other corner of the room stares at me in awe. "You mean, make them cancer-free?"

I nod. Yes, the soldiers can go out for rescue missions, but only for a fraction of time before radiation sickness gets them too. In the past month, several have shown signs of mutations and cancer. They too are now dying.