Rale busied himself playing the dual roles for the next few days. The quiet, humble Rale kept himself occupied, eating at his desk and arriving early, leaving late, to maintain the facade of a keen, unassuming, and enthusiastic boy only too happy to be in his elements. The map recovery finished after another day, showing the multiple outposts scattered in the surrounding area, all downed and no longer populated by any significant numbers of people. He then delved into recovering the instruction manuals and old data for the scanners, purifiers, and generators in the hospital database sections. It was pretty dry stuff, really, and if he'd really worked hard, he could have fixed them all within a day or two, but to facilitate the gifted, mistrustful, conspiratorial other Rale, demure Rale worked slow but steady. It didn't matter how quickly he progressed anyway; Jenny was quite happy with him appearing to toe the line and nodding to everything she said.
He couldn't say the same about Kar-Lai and Grayson, the other two computer engineers who shared his room, though. Although they were careful to wipe down the surfaces and revert everything back to how he'd left it the day before, when Rale sat down again at the computer desk, the electric signals that flowed into his fingertips were different, disturbed, to how they were at the end of the day prior. He pretended to not notice, but the two pairs of eyes remained on him for at least thirty minutes as he checked for updates on the recovery program, deliberately not bringing up his backdoor program until they'd been satisfied he didn't notice they had snooped on his database. The signals that pinged back when he sent out a search showed wiped traces, but nothing was truly wiped on electronic devices. They'd tried to gain access to his already-recovered mapping files, probably to sabotage it, but he'd locked it to make it visible only and not alterable. They'd then tried to analyse the program he used to repair the files with such ease, but, as the actual tool was Rale himself, they found nothing of note. And, of course, they had no idea the second, hidden program was still running. They couldn't touch it.
The most innocent reason they would have for creeping on his stuff would be to see his secret in being so good at his job. The most sinister would be to sabotage his work or even to frame him for being in places he shouldn't be. It was likely the former, but Rale would be lying if this didn't make him irritated. He struggled not to wrinkle his nose in disgust or wipe down his desktop. There was nothing he hated more than people sticking their dirty fingers in where they didn't belong.
Demure Rale wouldn't be fixated on how he'd get revenge on the nosy buggers. Demure Rale wouldn't notice the trespassers and just get on with his work. So Demure Rale took over for the next few hours, but when the two adults had forgotten to be careful, Clever Rale took over. Going via the main database, Rale spied on the peripheries where the two adults continued to struggle. They barely made any progress over the past few weeks, judging by the pauses and failed attempts at deciphering their paths, but their goal was close. Possibly in about three or four days, they would reach it, and those files seemed to hold biological weaponry information. Likely stuff too important and confidential for someone like Rale. They seemed to hold encrypted old audio and video feeds, too, with a running recording of every hour of the day. It would be helpful if he needed quick access to this at a later date. He removed the encryption with ease. It wasn't like there was anybody out there who had the technology, means, or time to listen in anyway.
A smirk curling at his lips, he returned to the adults' destination and loaded the wall encrypting the information with a defensive response that, when breached, would trigger a reaction wiping the offending device's data and make recovery appear impossible. Revenge was a dish best served cold. Cracking his knuckles in anticipation for the next few days, Rale settled down and continued with his second, backdoor program. There was no power outage overnight and his second program had wormed its way into the corrupted, encrypted Project Lunation file under Daniel Suarez's name. He tapped on his screen, maintaining the veil of unravelling old instruction manuals on the abandoned energy generators downstairs, and opened the recovered file.
Project Lunation: March City.
Heading: Dr. Daniel Suarez, BSc,BMedSci,PhD
Proposal: Utilising bioengineering genetics on previous Project Lunation series to launch a virtual reality biome in response to splicer virus outbreak across continental Europe.
Aim: creation of genetically-engineered super-specimens for protection of the human species
Rale blinked, sitting back. Genetically-engineered superhumans. Michael had said it first, but seeing it on the virtual screen made it seem more like reality. It was as Rale had suspected: March City had a purpose and they were the produce. Their purpose was to protect these humans with the abilities as dictated by their genetic engineering.
He fed electric signals to unravel the rest of the file. The language was complex — biology was not his strongest field — but the gist of it he understood. March City users were created through the splicing of genes into an empty oocyte, with approximately half of them controlled for health and gamete agenesis. Per previous projects, gamete agenesis was a prerequisite in creation of embryos to reduce copulation urges and prevent unplanned genetic amalgamation and reproduction. The other half of the genes were randomised to combat selection pressure. That other half included ability genes, which explained why March City Users all had variations of the four classes of abilities.
End point: based on results of previous projects, genetically-engineered specimens take approximately one human year to complete dependent development and seven years to mature and harness abilities; as such, at the end of seven years within March City, specimens will be removed for real-life application under supervision and will be terminated if expressing behaviours concerning and/or similar to the January City incident. In order to reduce waste material in apocalyptic conditions, any expunged matter will be recycled for subsequent cycle(s).
"Would you look at that?" whispered Rale, the inner conspiracist in him stirring with delight. But there was no Conspicuous Conspiracy for him to publish these findings here. He would have to keep this juicy information to himself until a point when it would come in useful.
Rale spent the next few hours rooting through the March City files. There weren't anything particularly riveting or groundbreaking outside of the basic components. There were talks of maintenance day to continue the fake reality illusion, a main omniscient program overlooking the specimens, implantation of a designated city coordinator to reinforce the laws and report back regarding concerning activities, and some details regarding risk of breach of simulated reality. Clicking into that revealed names Rale didn't know from before his time in March City, Kena's investigation into her brother going missing several years prior, and her pioneering the power-up of Users' abilities. A few of the logs were submitted by Lira, herself, but most were collated by observation from Central Administration filtering the yottabytes of information on a daily basis. Looking from this side of the fence, Rale realised just how hard this Daniel Suarez tried to maintain the simulated reality. Any User who posed a risk, whether that was accidentally reaching the mythical edge of March City after a wrong turn in Area One or someone like Kena actively seeking the outside world, were issued a warrant within minutes of the information being acquired and punishment passed within hours of the User being caught. All were terminated, aside from Kena, who faked her suicide.
Judging from how little Suarez cared for the Users' lives relative to the safety of his precious Project Lunation, Rale had a nagging suspicion the people here would be little different. They were 'specimens' and 'creations', after all. Not once did Suarez's proposal refer to any March City students as humans or people.
January City. Previous Project Lunation Series. Rale had wondered if March City was a standalone project. If their simulated reality was, well, simulated, surely theirs wouldn't be the only one that was faked. The March City dome was the only one he saw in Solim, but considering the scale of this outside world, vastly greater than that of March City from just the distance those search robots took them, it wouldn't be surprising there were other projects with other genetically engineered humans, just like them. It was a slight giveaway January City was named thus. There might be even more other projects. What if they were still alive? Chances were, in the small likelihood they were, the surviving Users would be outside of Candra. And there was no way Rale would risk venturing to the jungle out there.
He knew who would, though.
He got up from his computer with a groan, clicking his neck and lower back. He skimmed his finger on the touch keyboard. The first program continued to salvage instruction manuals. He discontinued his backdoor one for now, throwing his two roommates a dirty look. They remained immersed in their pathetic, ignorant trek to Rale's trap.
Rale sauntered out, pausing at the map of the place near the lifts. At the top was the hangar, where the robots and transport devices were stored. Prohibited access. Same for the eighth floor where the leaders' offices were. Ground floor was main entrance, but also prohibited for Users, strictly for chaperoned students and locals who worked in the fields. Rale took the lift down to the second floor where he had his bomb necklace fitted a few days back. He'd gotten used to the slightly suffocating feeling of imminent death around his throat. The sign indicated the floor was for storage: weapons, uniforms, other non-perishable resources. Food was on the floor below, near the canteen.
Various signs popped up along the way, stating the content behind the metal sliding doors. Rale paused outside one. The sign read electronic components. He placed his palm on the reader and, to no great surprise, it beeped and turned red. Access denied.
"Great," he said out loud, sighing.
"Need to get in?" said a voice behind him. Rale turned around. A middle-aged man with a moustache thicker than the hair on Michael's head stood before him. His eyes fell on Rale's neck and he immediately stiffened. "Soldiers aren't allowed in resources."
"I'm not a soldier," said Rale, not without a touch of irritation. "I'm a computer fixer. Just after some bits so I can work faster. Jenny Allan can vouch for me."
"Hm." The man appeared unconvinced, but after a pause, grudgingly swiped to let Rale in. He kept closer than was necessary behind, ensuring Rale didn't do anything dodgy. Rale grabbed a few tiny components and a micro-transmitter, stuffed them in his pocket, and left, not giving that guys a second look. Weapons. They were all weapons, nothing more.
Not wanting to hurry back to the computer room to yet bathe in more gloriously scathing and mistrusting looks, he took the stairs, one at a time. He paused when he was one floor up. Isolation ward, said the sign.
He'd pay Baby Transformer a visit, he figured.
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