Chapter Text
Logan had no clue what came over Virgil to even pretend as though his ‘secret location’ was emotely within walking distance. It was about twenty minutes of walking before Logan found himself becoming skeptical. His hand twitched against the handle of his briefcase. His whole body ached from walking in stiff interview clothing and his briefcase wasn’t particularly light either.
Slowly the scenery began to shift. The walls of buildings began to smooth out, more windows reflected around them, colorful lights danced against any surface, crowds thickened the further they went, the commotion, the sounds, yes indeed; Logan noticed the changes. After another few careful steps behind Virgil, Logan came to a sudden realization.
“This is Oasis.” Logan abruptly said as the thought dawn on him. He lifted his head and scanned the surrounding area. High class Gemos strutted about as the roads stopped and the people roamed the open space lined with business and the few scattered trees. This was the world of highly modified Gemos, usually within the 10-35 percentile range of NON-modified genes.
The human body only has about 24,000 genes, only 22,000 are allowed to be modified, for ‘safety concern’ reasons. The most ‘important’ thing people listen for is the first number of someone’s batch. The higher that number is, the better. The percentage at the end, including the untouched 2,000 genes approximately, would be very low, but also redundant. It wasn’t odd for someone of high modification to only say the first number of their batch and the system used to modify them. Leaving out the percentage just made more sense for the common civilian, but to some like Logan, percentages were important.
“Good ol’ Oasis.” Virgil grunted as his thin, pale hands slipped into his contrastingly dark jacket. Logan recognized Virgil’s posture as that of a nervous teen. He would have humored the reaction to being in Oasis if he didn’t feel some form of nervousness as well.
Logan, instead, surveyed the people they passed.
Colorful in so many ways. Unnatural colors of hair, eyes, and even skin. All of it blurred past Logan as the awkward duo continued their journey. Green hair, pink eyes, ash grey skin, Logan shuddered at the misuse of genetic modification. Why make your children look like poorly designed alien characters to begin with? Logan felt as though genetic modification has stalled in a way, now allowing such revolting, flashy changes to DNA just to pass the time until the next big ‘Genetic Update’.
“We’re almost there. Sorry for making you walk so far.” Virgil quietly said over his shoulder as they continued through another large pedestrian plaza.
“It’s of no consequence. Did you by chance walk this far before seeing me?” Logan straightened his shirt collar, becoming very aware of the colorful spectrum of Gemos looking over at him.
“I usually bus hop from business to business. I didn’t mean to go that far, but I’m happy I did.”
“Bus hop?”
“Yeah, ya know,” Virgil shrugged towards thin sign pointing towards the nearest bus stop as they walked past, “take a bus to the next station, then take that bus to the next and so on.”
“Interesting… and why, pray tell, did we not simply ‘bus hop’ to… where ever we are going?”
“ ‘Cause I don’t remember what buses I took to get to GENET-IX.” Virgil shortly replied and shrunk further into himself.
Logan chose not to push Virgil any further. The poor shorter man already looked out of place against the colorful sea of Gemos as it was. He scanned the area for the third time until he ran into Virgil as the dark-cladded man stopped suddenly in front of Logan.
“My apologizes.” Logan responded to the small yelp Virgil gave out when they collided.
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Virgil rubbed the back of his head where it bounced off Logan’s chest. “We’re here.”
Logan paused in confusion for a moment. All that stood before the two of them was a single bush. Before Logan could enquire about it, Virgil lifted his arm and pointed off to the side to a particular building.
The slim design of the building let the tall, thin windows in the front to loom over the simple, but elegant, garden directly in front. It was easily the only building that wasn’t splashed with nauseating arrays of colors. The blank, slim, open building stood at attention, seemingly proud of its isolation from the other seamless display of the other buildings.
“Go ahead.” Virgil started, but added after Logan gave a glance of confusion, “I’ll be right behind ya.”
Logan started his steady strides toward the building, trying to look through the frosted glass to get even a hint as to who or what laid inside waiting. He heard Virgil’s boots scuff against the cement behind him. The moment Logan opened the door, he was immediately attacked.
A strong force slammed into Logan, obscured his vision and caused him to fall back. If Virgil hadn’t held him up, Logan would have collapsed on the ground. The force began to squeeze Logan’s chest, constricting him so tightly he swore he heard a rib crack.
“What the-“ Logan’s sharp tone caused the mass holding him to jump in surprise and immediately release him.
“Oh! Oh no. I’m so sorry!” The mysterious attacker stood at full height, a few inches taller than Logan himself, and gave an apologetic smile behind thick curls of caramel hair.
Virgil gave a mischievous snicker as he pushed Logan back onto his feet.
“Virgil! I- oh my goodness. I’m so embarrassed. This isn’t how I usually introduce myself, I’m so sorry, uuhh...” The man before Logan shuffled shyly, freckled cheeks glowing red. He pushed his silver, circular glasses higher up his nose and shoved a hand in Logan’s direction for a handshake.
“Hi! I’m Patton, Virgil’s dad!” Patton’s large grin was coupled by Virgil grumbling exclamation that they weren’t related at all.
“Logan Peirce.” Logan introduced himself. He didn’t want to draw attention to how flustered he was as well and gave a short shake to the, surprisingly, warm hand before him.
“We’re just friends.” Virgil stepped past Logan into the house.
“I’ve been told that I’m like the Dad Friend!” Patton gave a playful wink at Logan then turned towards Virgil to give him the large, overexaggerated hug that was meant for him. “I was worried about you, where the heck did you go?” Patton softly asked Virgil.
“I found us a new engineer.” Virgil gestured to Logan. Patton’s eyes widened, Logan almost took it as if Patton was surprised that Logan was capable of being such a thing.
“No way.” Patton breathed out the comment, before shaking himself from the awed expression spread across his face. “I-I wasn’t expecting- I’m sorry, one moment. Virgil could I speak with you for a second?” Patton gave a strained smile to Virgil as he partially dragged his friend across the wide room.
Logan took the moment to observe a chair that was placed by the door then decided to sit after his long journey. He placed his briefcase in his lap and watched as Patton harshly whispered to Virgil. Their conversation was spoken through gritted teeth and wide hand gestures before Patton sighed loudly and glanced toward Logan.
Logan immediately looked to the floor, busying himself with the newly formed scratches and dirt blotches on his dress shoes. He made a mental note to buff them whenever he got the chance.
“Mr. Peirce-“ Logan stood at the sound of Patton’s voice.
“Logan.”
“Oh! Uh, of course… Logan I wanted to thank you for coming out this far. I’m sorry for interrupting your day, but I truly do appreciate you making the trek!” Patton fiddled with his hands, twisting the ends of the sleeves to his sweater that was tied around his shoulders.
“To be honest, I had nothing better to do, really.” Logan straightened his glasses on his face.
It was odd. This whole situation was just… odd. Logan had observed every detail of the interior to the building he stood in, yet he couldn’t think of the purpose to such establishment. There was a small desk in front of the chair Logan had sat in creating a small lobby area immediately after the front door. However, it was the space after the desk that peeked Logan’s interest. Large columns of glowing, beeping consoles stood floor to ceiling humming along undisturbed. The outfit Patton wore was simple, yet semi-formal, the unusual placement of the sweater was off-putting to Logan.
“I’m not going to say this is easy. I’m sure Virgil has told you what happened to the… the last people that chose to help us.” Patton returned his gaze onto Logan. “But if you really want to help us, I really don’t want to turn you away. Lot’s of people are suffering and we just want to know why. If you can give us any clues. ANY …. We would be forever grateful.” Patton laid a hand on Logan’s shoulder.
“Surely, you don’t believe I’m going to change my mind after walking the entire way here. Do you?” Logan firmly asked and readjusted his briefcase in his hand.
“Wait. You walked here?! From where?” Patton’s hand dropped but the tone of his voice rose in concern.
“GENET-IX.”
“GENET-IX!!” Patton spun to meet Virgil’s eyes, “You walked all the way here?! Let me get you some water, I’m so sorry! I had no clue!” Patton raced off to a doorway hidden from view.
Logan exchanged glances with Virgil.
“Is he usually like this?”
Virgil shrugged, “You get use to it.” Then motioned for Logan to follow into the doorway Patton had just vanished into.
The room beyond the doorway was just as unique as the first section of the building. A narrow staircase took the pair down, below the main level, opening to reveal a large open room. Patton was busily working at the kitchen nestled against the stairs, reaching into cabinets and getting cups out to pour water. A large sofa pointed towards the wall-mounted television and a large dining table stood proudly as the center-piece to the room. The walls were covered in artworks and posters. The two doors that barely left visible through the posters, Logan assumed, were entrances to the bedroom and bathroom. It was very simple.
“Come on in! I’ve got your water for ya!” Patton rose the glasses up for them to see then set cups lightly on the dining table. Virgil grabbed his cup and watched Logan scan the room, again.
“You do that a lot.” Virgil commented after a single sip from his cup.
“Excuse me?” Logan rose an eyebrow in question.
“You do this thing where you,” Virgil gestured loosely in circles at Logan, “you spin around and scan the place like you’re a robot or somethin’. We aren’t gonna hurt ya, if you’re worried or anything.” Virgil brought his cup to his lips after he spoke, but watched Logan closely.
“I just find it odd. You seem to be so insistent that I come immediately and you made it imperative that it was time sensitive, but yet,” Logan paused as he twisted the cup on the table, “You don’t seem to be in that big of a rush then I previously thought.”
Virgil lowered his cup from his mouth. Patton began to play nervously with his sweater sleeves again. Neither seem to make a movement to say or do anything in response until one of the two doors in the room swung open.
The man in the doorway leaned heavily on the frame. Sweat beaded on his forehead and fear reflected in his dark eyes. He struggled with a voice, small whimpers escaped instead.
“Thomas!” Patton started to approach the new arrival, but Virgil firmly stopped him. Virgil replaced Patton’s effort with his own and ran to Thomas’ side. Thomas clawed at Virgil’s chest, finally catching his curled fingers in the fabric and pulling Virgil closer. Virgil struggled to support Thomas’ weight, trying to reposition Thomas’ awkwardly half-limp body into a more comfortable spot.
“I know. I know. I’m sorry. It’s ok. I’m back. Hi.” Virgil’s voice scratched, near to crying.
“That’s Thomas. He’s my little brother. He’s the fifth person to show symptoms. That we know of.” Patton waited until Virgil was able to help Thomas stand and slowly limp back through the door before continuing, “He just finally fell asleep before you came. We didn’t want to wake him. It’s been really tough, not knowing what’s going on. All we know is that people of bigger batch numbers are more likely to get… whatever it is. So far, no one’s survived and the longest anyone’s gone after showing symptoms- is…” Patton’s voice wobbled as tears slowly formed in his eyes. He gave a soft apology as he tried to wipe his eyes from under his glasses.
Patton gave a small hiccup and a deep sigh then resumed what he was saying:
“All we know is that people of higher batch numbers are more likely to get it. They only live for about three to seven days after showing symptoms. We’ve had other engineers look into it, but the moment it looked like they were about to find out what was wrong, they either ran off with the information or ended up getting sick, too. We’ve been trying so hard to help. There use to be four of us that took care of the others… Now it’s just me and Virgil.” Patton rubbed his arms to calm himself. It wasn’t a pleasant life to see the ones you love die one by one.
Logan could understand the pain that danced in Patton’s eyes. All they wanted was answers. A way to cure what ailed them, most likely, but also just the possibility of relief until the inevitable end.
“I’m guessing that you have a higher number than Virgil?” Logan gently laid his briefcase on the dining room table, careful not to hit the two cups that rested on the surface as well.
“20,000-LAN-15.” Patton let the batch number roll from his tongue, detached from the number altogether.
“15 percent untouched?” Logan skeptically looked at Patton. Patton did not appear to be a high-end Gemo. That low of a percent of unmodified genes usually lead to a wealthy family and a completely, horrifyingly manipulated human child, if it could still be called human. The only thing Logan would even guess to be modified in Patton was his height, but even then, it was still only two inches taller than average. Freckles could have been added. His eyes were a very rare and pretty emerald green. Perhaps it was his caramel curls that plummeted that percentage or, Logan nearly shivered at the thought, maybe it was-
“Genetic Diseases?” Logan played with the lock on his briefcase until he heard the satisfying click of it unlocking.
From the corner of his eye, Logan saw Patton startled by his guess. It was obvious now that Patton never encountered someone that could see that correlation between his ‘normal looks’ but high batch number.
“Yeah. I heard they were nasty and a lot of docs told my parents to give up, but they really kept rootin’ for me.” Patton gave a small, humorless laugh at the thought.
Logan hummed in response, lifting the briefcase cover up to reveal his neatly stacked and organized items within. He expertly filed through the papers and reached into one folder in particular. Logan gave the paper a nice flick, set it on the table and soon followed after it into a seat.
“Patton, I have never seen such a thing, never heard of it, never knew of it. The idea that something so big and life-threatening being kept from the public makes it seem all to ‘good-to-be-true’ and possibly fake,” Patton deflated as Logan spoke, “I haven’t even seen any official information or looked at single person who is or has been affected. However, that being said, I’m eager to work with you. So, if you have a moment, I would like to learn more about what’s going on.”
Patton brightened to the change of tone in Logan’s voice. Logan was more than interested at this point, he was invested. What else was there for Logan to do? He rather struggle and fight, but learn so much more than suck it up to the big wig companies. The constant denial of his work and commitment in the Genetic Engineering field has finally revealed his raw nerve, Logan’s untapped knowledge and thirst for more. Logan could basically taste the cold coffee from nonstop, week long, all-nighters and the bittersweet thought of waking up to a paper wad pillow just made Logan scribble even faster as Patton started to speak about the start of the possible end.