philosophy combined elements of eastern mysticism and western millennialism – a real fire-and-brimstone, the-end-is-coming kind of ideology. When the Angel Stations were first discovered, the Primalists decided they were there for the sole purpose of taking a chosen few out to safety amongst the stars, where God would get things right this time.
By this point, they’d grown powerful and influential, spreading outwards from Japan into America and Europe, using the pooled funds and knowledge of their richer members to make investments in high-yield research industries, particularly those reaping rich rewards from inventions linked to the newly discovered alien technologies recovered from other star systems.
It seemed that the Angels – or whatever they’d actually called themselves – had carried out genetic manipulation on an unimaginable scale. This much had been public knowledge for centuries, and had led to the development of Angel-derived technologies such as read/write bioware for recording memories and experiences by biochemical means.
Any of the worlds the Angels had visited, where life existed, they’d altered in some way, travelling between those worlds via great waystations that could carry them across vast interstellar gulfs in the blink of an eye: the Angel Stations. Identical strings of apparently ‘junk’ DNA had been found in species on worlds light years distant from each other.
And somewhere during the time that came to be known as the Hiatus, when the Oort Angel Station had nearly been destroyed by the scientists studying it, and contact between the scattered fragile colonies around other stars had subsequently been lost for almost two centuries, research into the Angel-altered gene sequences had continued unabated. Paradigm-altering discoveries about human DNA were then made, and it didn’t take long for some of the new theories to be tested out on human beings. If I’d known more about these things , thought Elias, maybe things would have been different .
It didn’t take long for Elias to realize what the old man was telling him. The Primalists had actually created Trencher, in a breeding programme designed to bring about a new Messiah – but a Messiah that would serve only the needs of the Primalist religion.
Elias had listened appalled to Trencher; appalled at what they had done to him, appalled that they had succeeded in so many ways.
‘I didn’t want any part of it,’ Trencher assured him. ‘And I told them so. They didn’t want to let me go either, but they had made us too powerful. The Primalists were going to kill all of us but one, but we rebelled. I rebelled. This was all a long time ago, Elias. A long time ago.’
More than three centuries ago, Elias realized. It was indeed a long time. He wondered if the old man would ever die, or if he’d just keep going. ‘You said ‘‘us’’?’
‘Sure, Elias, us . Three of us. Three supermen, and the Primalists couldn’t control any of us.’ The old man sipped again at his mint tea with merry eyes, enjoying the consternation, the confusion in the other man’s face.
‘But they didn’t breed me . We were all adults, all soldiers, when we underwent the treatments that made us the way we are.’
‘Dangerous,’ said Trencher. ‘How many of you now left with the power? Just you, you said? Pity. The rest weren’t strong enough to handle it, I suppose, not in the body or the head. Now they’re after you too.’
‘But the Primalists are still looking for you, right?’
‘Sure. They can’t necessarily account for me, and I could screw things up for them.’
‘What are they planning?’
‘Things.’ Trencher looked out to the rain as a bird flew by, navigating the cavernous spaces between the buildings. ‘Look at that, Elias. I swear, must have been years since I saw a bird flying down in here. Not so many of them left outside either. Things’re getting bad.’
‘What are the Primalists planning?’ Elias
By this point, they’d grown powerful and influential, spreading outwards from Japan into America and Europe, using the pooled funds and knowledge of their richer members to make investments in high-yield research industries, particularly those reaping rich rewards from inventions linked to the newly discovered alien technologies recovered from other star systems.
It seemed that the Angels – or whatever they’d actually called themselves – had carried out genetic manipulation on an unimaginable scale. This much had been public knowledge for centuries, and had led to the development of Angel-derived technologies such as read/write bioware for recording memories and experiences by biochemical means.
Any of the worlds the Angels had visited, where life existed, they’d altered in some way, travelling between those worlds via great waystations that could carry them across vast interstellar gulfs in the blink of an eye: the Angel Stations. Identical strings of apparently ‘junk’ DNA had been found in species on worlds light years distant from each other.
And somewhere during the time that came to be known as the Hiatus, when the Oort Angel Station had nearly been destroyed by the scientists studying it, and contact between the scattered fragile colonies around other stars had subsequently been lost for almost two centuries, research into the Angel-altered gene sequences had continued unabated. Paradigm-altering discoveries about human DNA were then made, and it didn’t take long for some of the new theories to be tested out on human beings. If I’d known more about these things , thought Elias, maybe things would have been different .
It didn’t take long for Elias to realize what the old man was telling him. The Primalists had actually created Trencher, in a breeding programme designed to bring about a new Messiah – but a Messiah that would serve only the needs of the Primalist religion.
Elias had listened appalled to Trencher; appalled at what they had done to him, appalled that they had succeeded in so many ways.
‘I didn’t want any part of it,’ Trencher assured him. ‘And I told them so. They didn’t want to let me go either, but they had made us too powerful. The Primalists were going to kill all of us but one, but we rebelled. I rebelled. This was all a long time ago, Elias. A long time ago.’
More than three centuries ago, Elias realized. It was indeed a long time. He wondered if the old man would ever die, or if he’d just keep going. ‘You said ‘‘us’’?’
‘Sure, Elias, us . Three of us. Three supermen, and the Primalists couldn’t control any of us.’ The old man sipped again at his mint tea with merry eyes, enjoying the consternation, the confusion in the other man’s face.
‘But they didn’t breed me . We were all adults, all soldiers, when we underwent the treatments that made us the way we are.’
‘Dangerous,’ said Trencher. ‘How many of you now left with the power? Just you, you said? Pity. The rest weren’t strong enough to handle it, I suppose, not in the body or the head. Now they’re after you too.’
‘But the Primalists are still looking for you, right?’
‘Sure. They can’t necessarily account for me, and I could screw things up for them.’
‘What are they planning?’
‘Things.’ Trencher looked out to the rain as a bird flew by, navigating the cavernous spaces between the buildings. ‘Look at that, Elias. I swear, must have been years since I saw a bird flying down in here. Not so many of them left outside either. Things’re getting bad.’
‘What are the Primalists planning?’ Elias
Similar Books
