Chapter 2: Crossing Over
Pinstripe Revival
The transport shuttle’s compartment hummed with the particular frequency of guilt. A sound Kai had grown intimately familiar with during his extended assignment at the Reserve’s perimeter. The morning landscape blurred past through the floor-to-ceiling viewing panel. Groves of technology disguised as oak trees with metallic leaves catching sunlight with suspicious uniformity. Mechanical birds tracing predetermined flight patterns between the synthetic branches, and beneath it all, the endless sprawl of optimization. Every surface gleaming, every angle calculated, every breath of air calibrated.
Malcolm’s holographic projection flickered beside Kai’s seat.
“—Biological preparation protocols are not suggestions, Darcy. They exist because previous technicians made assumptions about their capabilities.” His image stuttered slightly as the transport crossed under the city center. “Interior decontamination sequence: full dermal cleansing, internal filtration, genetic marker verification, and psychological evaluation. You will submit to each stage without complaint.”
Kai nodded, watching a formation of surveillance drones bank gracefully around a monument near the capital. So precise they seemed to mock the messy reality of actual avian evolution.
“Of course, sir,” he said.
“Nothing about this assignment is standard.” Malcolm’s projection leaned forward, his pale eyes boring into Kai’s mismatched ones. “We’ve had too many techs not return.”
The transport began its deceleration sequence, and Kai felt his stomach tighten with anticipation. Soon. Soon he would cross over, but this time deeper than ever before, into a place where rumor outweighed fact in his world.
The Reserve’s outer perimeter station squatted like a metallic tumor against the dome’s smoothness. Constructed with a functional brutality and outfitted with weathered pragmatism. But something had changed since yesterday. The security guard who usually waved Kai through with bored efficiency now stood encased in full protective gear—respirator, sealed suit, the works. The guard’s face was invisible behind reflective shielding.
“Credentials,” the guard’s voice emerged mechanically filtered and nearly inaudible. Yesterday, he’d barely glanced at Kai’s identification; today, he scrutinized every detail with paranoid intensity.
Malcolm’s voice crackled through Kai’s comm unit as he entered the first decontamination chamber. “Your markers are flagging green across the board. Anyone else would light this place up like a holiday tree.” His compliment carried the particular condescension Kai expected from Optima. “You’re the only key that fits this rusty lock.”
The first chamber sealed behind him with the finality of a trap door. Jets of cleansing solution erupted from hidden nozzles, filling the air with the chemical scent of industrial purification. The liquid struck Kai’s skin like tiny needles attempting to thread. Chemicals dripped from his fingertips, chin and nose like too much paint on a canvas. The soaking husk that he was began to shiver before a jumper was thrown at him by a highly defensive tech trying to keep their distance.
“Proceeding to stage two,” an automated voice announced. The chamber floor began to usher Kai forward, carrying him deeper into the station’s interior and closer to the dome’s belly.
Here, the pretense of civilization fell away entirely. Exposed conduits snaked along corroded walls, while monitoring systems hummed with suspicious intensity. Everything suggested that emergency measures had been hastily implemented.
The second chamber flooded with ultraviolet radiation. Through the observation window, technicians in protective gear monitored readouts that spiked and danced with each heartbeat. One pointed at a display showing Kai’s genetic markers—those telltale signs of imperfection that made him valuable to the Guild yet suspect to everyone around him.
“Remarkable adaptation rates,” someone muttered through the intercom. “Almost like he’s designed for boundary work.”
Stage three required Kai to fit his head into a neural apparatus that dangled from the ceiling of the chamber. The delicate probes mapped Kai’s psychological state while flooding their consciousness with imagery designed to refocus his mind on the singular goal of revealing contamination or compromise. But as the machine probed deeper, Kai felt his thoughts drifting toward the specimens hidden in their apartment, toward the endless questions that drove them to collect fragments of unmodified life. The machine clicked in relief, and Kai removed it from his head, noticing bits of his hair stuck to the barbs of the highly unethical device.
“Psychological evaluation complete,” the voice announced. “Subject shows elevated curiosity indices but within acceptable parameters for extended boundary exposure.”
If only they knew, Kai thought, suppressing a smile. A technician handed him a specialized oversuit that was paper-thin compared to what they were wearing. There wasn’t even a face mask attached. It was as if they knew without a doubt that Kai was at a low risk of infection, or they simply didn’t care for anyone beyond this point. Perhaps a bit of both influenced the decision.
The final chamber represented the actual point of no return. Kai had never been this far inward before. The gate to his left was where his typical days began. Here, the last traces of the optimized world would be stripped away. Outside chemical residues, electromagnetic signatures, even the subtle pheromones that marked someone as belonging to civilized society. The process felt like molting, shedding an artificial skin to reveal something more primitive beneath.
As the chamber cycled through its final sequence, Kai caught his reflection in the polished metal walls. The inner door began to iris open, revealing a transition chamber where fluorescent light gave way to a softer glow. Beyond that threshold lay Earth’s last sanctuary for unmodified life, where evolution still followed its ancient, chaotic patterns.
Malcolm’s voice crackled one final time through the comm system: “Remember, Darcy—you’re there to fix the boundary systems, not to satisfy your botanical curiosities. The Catamores may be humanity’s genetic heritage, but they’re not to be trusted. Maintain professional distance.”
But as Kai stepped forward into the transition chamber, professional distance was the last thing on his mind. The air here carried different scents—loam and growth and the green smell of things deciding their own fates. His biology responded immediately, his heart rate increasing, and sensory awareness sharpening, as if he were back at the museum with his mother.
The final seal engaged behind him with a sound like a held breath being released. Ahead, through reinforced glass, a figure waited in what appeared to be administrative attire.
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