Chris Pikul

Adonis

Cold ached tired young hands. The sharp, electric kind of cold that comes when submerging half-frozen hands into warm water after braving frost for too long. At least, that was the first feeling Adonis had before realization set in. This was not a frigid sensation, this was overwhelming heat; a torridity that the human mind is not capable of understanding. Flashes of autumn sunsets on Earth drown the situation momentarily as colors of ember and amber dance across tear-filled gray eyes. The projection room may have been synthetic, constructed to instill some sort of special pride and patriotism, but it nevertheless left a stark impression on a young Ganymedian.

"I've done it" creeps quietly from thin lips. A phrase meant for internal narration, but being of such pride and consequence forces itself projected verbally. Adrenaline courses through gravity-weak veins as determination pushes both conviction and concentration through the tuffs of flame being birthed from the very skin of their person. The autumn warm fire begins to evolve. Shifting in hue to blues and whites as it feeds off the power projected in confidence from it's master. Heat intensifying as panic returns with the licks of flame traveling up arm, bering ever closer to the heart and soul of their creator. The phrase changes and escapes again, reborn into a new emotion, "what have I done?". Self preservation kicks-in as the motor functions command the fire be flung from it's surface. Flicking hands wildly to no avail, expands to flailing arms as if to eject some clinging stowaway. The fire seems pleased with this burst of energy, growing brighter and cackling with laughter as it consumes more of the precious oxygen atmosphere.

Over 150 years have passed since humanity decided that natural evolution of their species was going to be unacceptably slow. For the results they wanted, and were unaware they needed, they would have to take things into their own hands. Mars taught them that. Europa saw the dissolving of cultural norms like "countries", and "family names". Titan brought back corporate structure and clandestine aspirations. Manifest destiny birthed the Ganymede colonies, which in turn started the "Expansion Wars". Enceladus was established to fulfill two primary missions. First, to prevent further expansion outwards to the remaining Saturn moons. And secondly to prove that research could provide tools great enough to deter further escalations.

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic", from the classical writer Arthur C. Clarke would summarize the policy. The Eden Corporation supplemented this idea with "...and magic is indistinguishable from Gods, to heathens without either". Thus the funding and establishment of Eden Research Facility 532, Enceladus was born. Colloquially referred to as "Manhattan" by the scholars who called it home, and life. Management found it an endearing title to days past, but locals knew it to be a short form of the historical name "Manhattan Project".

On this smooth, desolate, sub-zero moon exists a monolithic port of entry. An out of place feature on an otherwise featureless landscape. Partially mirrored surface of angular architecture colored quite purposely to be as bland and colorless as possible. Featuring four large round pads of high-strength salt-encrusted carbon- concrete expanding from a central polyhedron hub by opaque covered walkways. The center of this hub containing three massive shafts capable of carrying enormous volume and weight downward through the thick, icy crust that makes up Enceladus' surface. Delving ever deeper these shafts eventually break through the imposing glacial shelf, giving way to a pitch-black void of fluid salt. An ocean of terrifying solitude houses the true "Manhattan" that is ERF-532. Terminating into another central hub, the shafts become the arteries that keep this neutral-buoyancy facility connected to the surface and beyond. A featureless surface of Tantulum-Steel curved panels protect the soft precious innards from the crushing corrosive power that is the Cassini Ocean. A large entryway provides transportation hubs, and amenities for recreation to those who call this home. Thirty-Five Down, as it is known. Quite simply because it sits thirty-five kilometers below the surface.

In a windowless room, as all rooms are here, on the northern arm of ERF-532, there exists an unlikely sight for not only this facility, but this moon. The normally gainsboro-gray colored walls are alight with warm amber tones as three individuals study in shock as one of them battles their own discovery. Adonis stands center, a tall lanky figure compared to their Earth-born counterparts. Alabaster skin and gray eyes featuring little to no hair outside of a covering of blonde vellus hairs. Genderless in their neutral distillation of the perfect space-pioneering humans; as far as the procreation and generic scientists envisioned before the deployment of the Second Ganymedian Generation. The other two specimens are of younger design in comparison, but feature many of the same features as most everyone else on this moon do including Adonis. Like the color of the walls in Adonis' laboratory; undistracting and uninspiring is the theme here on Enceladus. But in the current circumstance, this room is both distracting, and inspiring.

Flames erupt further from Adonis' arms as their two assistants realize that control of this experiment is quickly vanishing. "Perhaps we should conclude this run Adonis?" one speaks up. These words fall on deaf hears and the other assistant glances towards the emergency panel with careful consideration.

"I've got this. I created it, therefor I can control it". The words only exist as internal narration this time. Apparently lacking the conviction and confidence of earlier slips. Where the words fail, so does the fire. Seemingly starved of the energy provided through pride and naive conquest as the faults surface in the mind of Adonis. They look to notice the second assistants moves as they motion towards the emergency panel, arm beginning to reach for the end of this success.

"No!" Adonis yells, "I have this quite under control." they announce as the synthetic gray fibers of their over-skin begin to carbonize black from the flames. The second assistant halts their advance, but makes no intentions of returning to the first assistant's side.

"We've come to far to throw this away now. Juno! Ensure the spacial recording is focused on my arms!" Adonis commands. The first assistant, Juno, takes a second to absorb the command before turning their attention to a control pad in their left hand. With a slight twitch in the iris of Juno, the five spherical drones also occupying the room adjust slightly as they move centimeters at a time closer to Adonis' arms.

This new invigoration, confidence restoring itself as it breaths life back into the flames through osmosis. Feeling the power coming under control, Adonis dares to flex. Focusing on their dreams of one day gaining the admiration of their masters in management. To be, recognized, by those mentors. By the only people that could be considered parents to what can be conceptually considered an orphan. A ward of the company has succeeded where no other ward could. The ticket Eden has been looking for, a new generation of science and humans. A tear falls as overwhelming self-pride causes a violent eruption of blues, oranges, reds, and whites fills the room in an instant. A burst of inferno expels from Adonis' palms, sending a shockwave of heat into the room. The present research drones, which had gathered closer to Adonis are unable to bear the pressure. They emulate now, the cannonballs of ancient history's battles. Launched with incredible power, becoming projectile weapons not seen in centuries. Three become imbedded in the otherwise blank walls, now decorating the blank slates with shrapnel and minor craters. The other two find purchase in an otherwise unsuspecting assistant. In a flash too quick for human response, Juno's right leg succumbs to the 10 centimeter diameter drone. Blood streaks over the name plate embedded in the second assistants overskin. The name "Reitia" becoming obscured in an instant. Reitia looks to their co-worker, a natural reflex of humans to observe the facial expressions of others so they may base their own reactions on them. The look of crushing dread forms on Reitia's face as they discover there are no emotions on Juno to read. The second drone found a different mark, and has removed the ability for Juno to show emotion, or anything else for that matter. The nearly headless body falls backwards from the impact, landing abruptly on a char-coated black glass floor.

Realization comes to Adonis. Not realization of Juno, nor Reitia. But for their self. Realization that control is gone. Panic gives way to terror. One-hundred and five years. A century of study, research, determination to be more than the test-tube sample they came into this universe as. To be more than a first-name, and number. To be, a valued member of Eden. To be respected amongst their peers in this solar system, and the ones that come after it. Adonis feels the dreams slipping away like the ash his overskin is becoming. Eventual creeping disaster.

Terror has consumed the remaining living beings in this room, thirty-five kilometers deep, as the all-consuming void that is Cassini Ocean ensures those who forgot about her presence are made very aware. With a nerve wrenching creek the peppered walls of Lab 64 moan, but remain vigilant in their task.

Reitia comes to from the shock of both the explosion, and the sight of their now fallen comrade. Thirty-eight years they spent together in service of Eden. Thirty-eight years come to a close after a failed experiment by want-to-be narcissistic research lead. Such is life at the outskirt bases no body knows about; except those who need to know of course. A side-effect skill that tubers gain (those artificially made), is that death does cloud their judgement for long. After all, when you're one of millions made in the same facility on the same day, bred for purpose, as disposable extensions of humanity, the hive mentality becomes what you know most. The preservation is for yourself in hopes you become more than an instrument. "This has gone on far too long" Reitia thinks to them-self as they continue on their previous task of ending this experiment early.

"No! You cannot do that!" Adonis proclaims. "After all the sacrifice!". Adonis feels it all slipping away. They know quite well what happens to "failed experiments". Control must be reclaimed, immediately.

"I. Just. Need. To focus..."

Terror is now giving way to hysteria as the rush of emotions feeds the doubt and hunger of fire further.

"Why won't you stop!?"

Reitia has reached the panel and has abruptly smashed in the emergency alarm featured prominently on the wall nearest the door.

"I'm so sorry" Reitia replies softly with tears welling. Adonis considers the words intended for them, but Juno most certainly did not. A deep bassy note fills the air and chests of all near by, complimented by a high pitched intermittent chirp. Reitia quickly exits the room, as protocol dictates, but also to try to leave the new past where it still is.

"NO! REITIA!" Adonis screams. They know the protocol better than anyone else, what comes next will be pleasant for none concerned. In quick order, the sound of boots quickly moving on hard floors echoing down drab hallways creeps into Adonis' ears. "There is still time" they reassure themselves. "It was just a false alarm" they lie to them-self. But the flames persist, greedily enjoying their buffet of emotion. The hysteria is boiling up. One-hundred and five years is about to come to a swift end over this. Fists clench as tightly as can be, willpower tries to extract every last ounce of effort, tears fall of cheeks and land with a sizzle on burnt fiber and glass.

"Just. STOP!" Adonis commands to them-self and their new consumer. The fire cackles back. Gritting their teeth to the point where mineral-lacking enamel cracks and begins to shatter, they make their final effort. Driving all the fear, hate, panic, pride, conviction, soul into the final thought and words.

"Please, please! Just go away" Adonis says with desperate defeat. And with that, the flames start to fade. The heat of fire dims, as the piercing ache of flame touched nerves begin to scream even louder. Adonis is shocked by the sudden jolt, bellowing out a scream of torture. The fire is leaving their hands, but so are their hands altogether. Fingertips have dissolved into nothingness. Like sand collapsing under it's own weight, shifting and sliding out of it's stoic shape. The dissolving appendages seem to be chasing the fire-line as it races up the hands. Not ash, not smoke, into nothing. As if their very reality was commanded to leave. The screams continue, but the crawling line of destruction does as well.

The boots arrive at the partially open door of Laboratory 64. Six officers clad in charcoal grey overskins bering emblems of Eden corporation security have arrived. Reitia has removed them-self from the immediate area, but stands nearby. Partially out of curiosity, but mostly out of protocol and duty. One of the officers glances down at their wrist-display.

"Observation says exothermic explosion. Target is considered dangerous." they announce to the rest of the team with authority. A pause stays the air with silence enveloping it. A couple seconds later, the same officer gives the word.

"Order to terminate confirmed... Action.". The door is opened swiftly.

Adonis stands mortified and in excruciating pain as they are slowly being consumed by nothingness, before their screams are silenced. The pain is over, and the costs have been paid. The officers have efficiently ceased the experiment.

Three weeks later a meeting at Eden headquarters on Titan has project reports being shared amongst ranking research managers. The eight individuals sit in silence as they pour over the documents through mental consumption using their personally affixed wrist-pads.

"The Adonis Effect is exactly what we've been looking for." one starts with.

"With proper stimulation and modifications to the neural pathways, we can impart to our chosen assets the ability to modify reality as it seems." they continue.

"Magic. Actual magic. May be the next step of Eden. It may be the final step."

All heads nod in agreement. The cost was worth it. When technology has conquered every other conceivable hurdle in reality, the next reasonable barrier to overcome is reality itself. Manifest destiny, paves way to Masters of Reality. In the wrong hands, it would quickly become cataclysmic. Good thing corporations have never accidentally released anything dangerous before.