“You’re talking about a symbiotic relationship,” Phillips said.
“Yeah.”
“So the organism benefited from inhabiting the dead tissue.”
Reese held up a finger. “First, you can’t think of the ichor as an organism because it isn’t. If you start thinking of it like that, you’ll start assuming it has the same weaknesses, but it doesn’t.” No, the ichor was perfect. An absolutely flawless sample of what life once was or could be.
The engines on the jet raised in pitch and the plane jostled. Vibrations of wheels rolling over tarmac ran up Reese’s legs.
“All right, then what did the ichor and the subjects get out of the cooperation?”
The plane shuddered as it lifted into the air. Reese clenched his eyes shut.
“Are you afraid of flying, Dr. Dante?” She chuckled.
Maybe Reese would get airsick and throw up. If he did, he planned on aiming for her shoes. “It’s the takeoff.” The plane evened out faster than Reese expected. He slumped in his seat and opened his eyes.
At least Phillips wasn’t smiling.
The runway lights shrank into nothing in the darkness outside the window.
“The benefits, Dr. Dante, what were they?” Harrington waved down one of the attendants and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and left.
“For the person, I suppose the benefits were being alive, being stronger, faster, and damn near indestructible. The longer the ichor remained in the body, the more cohesive the connection.”
“And the benefits to the ichor?” Phillips said.
Reese scrubbed his chin. “We were never really sure. At first, we thought the hosts might be vectors. But the ichor isn’t contagious. After that, the only thing we could think of were results similar to the host. Putting it in a body let it experience life like an organism and not like whatever it is. It seemed to thrive off of the physical stimulus organic tissue could give it.” And the ichor proved to be a glutton for anything pleasurable. “We think it’s why it wouldn’t bind with lesser mammals. Their brains weren’t complex enough. It stayed in primates the longest but purged within weeks. Human tissue, especially the human brain, seemed highly compatible. It knew the difference, too, even on a single cell basis.”
“You make it sound like this stuff was self-aware.”
“It was self-aware, but again, not in the way we define it. And it had no problems communicating its wants.” Needs. Desires.
“It spoke.” She made it a statement.
“Yes and no.” Reese licked his lips, and the cracked skin stung. “Remember how I said it could communicate with itself. Whatever means it used had transferred to the betas.”
“You make it sound like…”
“Telepathy?”
At least she didn’t call Reese a liar. Which was more than he could say for a few of the project heads at New World Genetics.
“Yeah, telepathy. Empathy. At least that’s how we interpreted it at first.” Seeing the Alphas and betas together had changed that.
“And later?”
“We concluded it was all technically the same entity, just divided into different people. It didn’t like being separated either. If we tried to keep them apart, physically apart, the betas would eventually turn psychotic and self-mutilate. Or they’d Phase out and never come back.” Neither one had to ask the question. “If you’re having a hard time believing they could talk to each other with their minds, you’re gonna have an even harder time believing what Phase is.”
The attendant returned with a tray of drinks. “Have we balked on anything you’ve said yet?” Harrington passed one to Phillips, then offered one to Reese. He took it, and Harrington collected one of the glasses for himself.
Reese sniffed the tumbler. “I don’t normally drink.”
“Neither do I.” Harrington downed the glass. “Explain what Phasing is, Dr. Dante.”
Reese sipped the liquid, and it seared his throat. “We thought—” He coughed. “—it was a misinterpretation. The hieroglyphs. We thought—” He took another sip. “I have no idea why we doubted it. I guess believing something like that—”
“Dr. Dante?”