Spirits of the Earth: The Complete Series: (A Post-Apocalyptic Series Box Set: Books 1-3) Milo Fowler (different e readers TXT) 📖

Damaged ones might get recycled.

I pause before stepping out. "Will I meet the Creator here?"

The clone's face twitches into an awkward smile. "Yes. Once the Twenty have all been gathered, the Creator will meet with you to discuss your Ascension."

That doesn't sound ominous at all.

I climb out of the aerocar and make my way across the plasticon floor to a pair of polished elevator doors. The clone follows. Our footfalls and the tick-ticking of the aerocar's cooling engines echo throughout the otherwise silent hangar.

D1-436 opens a covered keypad beside the elevator and enters a code I quickly memorize. Habit, I guess. No reason I'd need to remember it. My priority should be getting out of here, not getting back in.

I stuff my hands into the pockets of Erik's jacket and step inside as the elevator doors slide open. The clone remains on the threshold as I pivot to face it. We make an odd pair: an injured clone and an out-of-uniform law enforcer.

"This is as far as I am allowed to go," D1-436 says.

My gaze wanders to Drasko's shocker in the clone's hand. Why did Drasko follow me into Dome 10? Watch your six, he said. Referring to himself, showing up out of the blue to shoot me in the back—or to someone else? He took out both security clones on the roof, made it down into the building, and somehow knew exactly where I'd be. That hologram-hidden room posed no obstacle for him. Makes me think he's been there before. And as crazy as it sounds, that Trezon guy might be an associate of his.

What about Erik—why would he go there, knowing those were the types of people who'd tie him to a chair and beat the crap out of him? He said he wasn't a terrorist or a dust freak. But that place reeked of both.

"You will be safe here." The clone's monotone is quiet, either trying to reassure me or itself. "We will not meet again, Enforcer Chen."

"And here I was, almost beginning to like you." I palm the button to close the doors, and they slide shut, blocking the clone's injured stare.

There are no other buttons on the panel, so I guess I'm just along for the ride. Alone with my thoughts as the elevator glides down the subterranean tower. Reaching the seventh floor, it stops automatically. The doors slide open, and I'm greeted with what appears to be a waiting room.

Unlike the dusty, sun-blasted exterior and surrounding wastes, this space looks like any doctor's office you'd find in Dome 1. Spacious, well-lit, filled with a couple dozen white lounge chairs separated by glass end tables. On each table is a drink and a meal, most of them half-drunk and half-eaten by those reclining in the chairs. Their glazed eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling and their pleasant expressions tell me they're currently enjoying some sort of VR program. The Linkstream wouldn't be available outside Eurasia, so they must be linked-in to whatever VR is offered by this Futuro Tower.

They're the Twenty, of course. Or the Seventeen, once I take a moment to count. I recognize half of them from that DNA search I ran, which started me down this winding path in the first place.

Three chairs sit empty. I assume one's for me, one's for Erik, and one's for Arienna, wherever they are.

The room has no doors or windows. Only the elevator as an access point. I step out onto the white tiled floor, my boots making their presence known. No one stirs or acknowledges me. I try clearing my throat. Nothing.

"We have a new arrival!" One section of wall across the room slides aside to reveal a large screen, and on it, Dr. Solomon Wong himself smiles broadly, welcoming yours truly. Round-faced with shining eyes, there's no evidence as far as wrinkles or grey hair that he's old enough to be our grandfather. From what I've heard, he's the grandmaster of genetic manipulation, able to stop the aging process for those who can afford the treatments. And, of course, he created the security clones tasked with protecting the Chancellor and Governors, as well as their interests, across Eurasia. So Dr. Wong is no stranger to any citizen, though few have ever met him face to face. "Please, make Sera Chen feel at home, my children!"

All at once, the eyes of everyone present snap into focus, locking onto me. The Seventeen rise as one from their comfortable chairs and walk toward me in their white bodysuits with friendly smiles frozen on their faces. Within moments, they have me surrounded.

Instinctively, I retreat a step. The elevator remains open behind me, but I have a feeling it won't take me anywhere else.

"Welcome, Sera Chen."

"We're so glad you're here."

"Good to see you, sister."

Their voices merge together as everyone speaks at the same time. Then, realizing how overwhelming the situation must be for me, they laugh in a self-deprecating way and start apologizing instead.

"You must have many questions."

"We know, it's a lot to take in."

"Come, sit down, let's get you up to speed."

Two of them take me gently by the hand and lead me to one of the empty chairs. I allow myself to be led. No one seems to be in any sort of hurry, and there's no way to tell from the drinks and meals who's been here the longest. If the security clones were sent simultaneously to collect us from every dome, it stands to reason many of them could have been here since this morning.

"Let's introduce ourselves," one suggests, and they start rattling off their names. On a good day, I might have remembered more than half, but not right now. There's too much going through my mind; I can't even begin to sort it out.

I send out a telepathic question, hoping at least one of them will be able to answer: Why are you here? But all seventeen of them have functional augments, as evidenced by their VR activity when I arrived.