Spirits of the Earth: The Complete Series: (A Post-Apocalyptic Series Box Set: Books 1-3) by Milo Fowler (paper ebook reader .TXT) 📕

found a way out, and I've got Hawthorne on the run. I have her undivided attention as she staggers backward, swinging her arm at me and shouting to stay back. Like she thinks I've got the plague.

"How about giving me a tour of the place, Chancellor?" I smile at her. You seem to know your way around.

The door behind me slides shut, and the corridor dumps us into the middle of a long hallway that curves out of sight in both directions. But unlike the room I just exited, closed off from everything, these walls and doors are made of glass, exposing what appear to be research laboratories. Inside, every piece of sophisticated equipment and every person in a white lab coat is clear to see as they go about their business.

They stop and stare at us, all of them with identical faces. They look exactly like D1-436 without its helmet: young versions of Solomon Wong.

"Help me!" Hawthorne spins on her heel and charges down the hallway. She throws open the first glass door she reaches and rushes inside, grabbing the nearest clone by the lapels. "There's something seriously wrong with that one!" She points at me, her eyes wild. "She's a dust freak or-or some kind of mutant!"

Dust freak? Really, Chancellor? If I was snorting that stuff, the effects would've worn off long before now. I pull the lab door open and follow her inside.

"She's in my head!" Hawthorne shrieks, shoving her way past the placid clone and knocking over an expensive-looking piece of equipment. As it crashes to the white tiled floor, she staggers onward, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. "How can she do that?"

Tell your boss I want to speak with him, I project toward the eight clones in the lab. My telepathy didn't work with D1-436, but maybe this is a different batch. Right now.

"What seems to be the problem?"

I turn to find another Solomon Wong standing at the door. But unlike the blank-faced clones, this one smiles like the version I saw on the wall screen when I arrived: grandfatherly, yet without any wrinkles or grey hair.

"You're their creator," I blurt out the obvious. Then I gesture at his duplicates who stand rooted—not going about their business, but not interfering with mine.

"Yes. I am responsible for thousands of lives in Eurasia, including your own. I was there at the birth of each member of the Twenty." His voice is a resonant baritone without a hint of humility. "I am a creator of life, Sera Chen."

"But we're not in Eurasia."

"No. We are not." He watches me closely. Intrigued, for some reason.

"We're in a ten-story underground tower…in a forbidden zone."

His smile broadens. "I like to think of Futuro Tower as an Ark."

The reference is lost on me. Explain, I project into his mind.

He raises his eyebrows, mildly impressed. "I heard that your biological parents exhibited certain rare abilities, but I had no idea these gifts transferred through their DNA. Of course, this leads me to wonder about the children currently growing up in the Ten Domes. Will they, too, exhibit such amazing talents when they come of age?"

Sooner. I wasn't even born yet, and I was already communicating with Margo, mind to mind. What ever happened to her? Did she manage to sneak into Eurasia like Erik's biological parents?

"Sooner!" he echoes aloud. "Fantastic. They will become marvels, as will their children and their children's children. One day, Eurasia may find itself overrun with superhumans. But by then, discord will have torn the Domes apart. Their well-structured society will no longer exist." He sounds like he's already seen the future, and he's resigned to it. "The fuse has been lit. The attack on Hawthorne Tower and other government centers across the Domes have shown the malcontents how powerful they can be. Now they know what they are capable of."

"You have to stop them!" Hawthorne cries, taking a step toward him.

"There is no stopping human evolution. Or de-evolution, as the case may be." His tone and expression are perfectly calm—in stark contrast to the Chancellor's. "But there are ways to work around it. This facility is our way to preserve the present while the future unfolds. It is here that the Twenty, along with every advancement we have ever made in science, technology, medicine—everything that has made Eurasia great—will be kept safe from the dangers threatening the Ten Domes."

"I have to go back…put my house in order..." Hawthorne murmurs, looking confused all of a sudden. "Where am I, Solomon? How did I get here?"

He smiles at her as one might an aging parent. "You should return to your quarters, Chancellor. Get some rest. This has been a trying experience for you, I imagine."

She stares blankly at him and shuffles past us, out into the hallway. She knows her way, disappearing out of sight around the corner.

"Not exactly herself, is she?" I note. Don't tell me you've cloned her, too.

He gives me a knowing look and extends a hand toward his duplicates. They return to their duties as if they were never interrupted.

"Unlike humans, clones can be modified as they grow and mature. They can be programmed, for lack of a better term. Of course they are not machines. They are biological organisms as close to human beings as anything could be. But there are no disgusting addictions, no bizarre physical abilities, no reproductive issues. They are easily replaceable! And if, for some reason, these anomalies rear their ugly heads, we decapitate them." He mimes cutting with his fingers. "We edit the clone's DNA and neural synapses, and it proceeds with its life none the wiser. It continues being the best version of itself that it can be."

I glance around the lab, then at the identical rooms lining the hallway. So many Wong clones. "You're planning to replace everyone in Eurasia?"

The good doctor laughs. "You haven't been listening, Sera. Eurasia is a lost cause. This facility, this Ark, is the future. When Eurasia, that wonderful