Short STory: The Man Who Did Not Exist

Conspiracies, epigenetics, and linguistic junctures--all in one short story! 

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​The story is up to you, my friend!

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The Man Who Did Not Exist

“Who is he?”

“Our systems show nothing. We can’t tag him, can’t track him. He’s a complete ghost. Without the security cameras, we’re blind.”

“Have you tried facial recognition?”

“I’m running it now, but the system is getting nothing.”

“So you’re telling me that he has no tracker, we have no genetic records on him, his face has never been seen before, and he somehow managed to gain access to the fourth floor of the most secure facility in the world?"

“I don’t know what to say, sir.”

“How did he get in?”

“That’s the weirdest part, sir. I went back into the camera feeds and… Well, see for yourself.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Yes, sir, I know that, but that’s the only information I have.”

“Men don’t just appear from air. Replay that. There must be some trick.”

“Yes, sir, but I can tell you… I’ve replayed it. Over and over. This guy just appeared.”

“Where is he going now?”

“Well, that’s obvious enough. He’s not even making an attempt to avoid the security cameras or to hide the fact that he’s here. He’s heading to cafeteria in B wing.”

“The testing wing? He must be after one of the Approved.”

“Maybe he’s on the black-out list for a foreign nation? They’ve been after the Approved for their own programs.”

“Even black-outs have some information on them. Plus, none of them can just zap into existence in the middle of a secure facility. This guy is different. Consider him Threat Level Red. I want this ghost caught.”
​
“Yes, Mr. Larrow.”

---

“Hey, Dennae, who is that guy? He just came in from the restricted door, but he’s not dressed like one of the Evaluators.”

“Who?”

“The guy in the unbuttoned plaid shirt over the green T-shirt that says ACHE LEANS LATE. What the heck does that even mean?”

“Huh. He’s a character, isn’t he?”

“Looks like he’s late for something too. Keeps looking at his watch. Hey, do you know him? He lit up when he saw you just now.”

“I have never seen him in my life.”

“Well, don’t look so interested. He’s heading this way.”

“Howdy, folks! Can I sit next to Dennae?”

“Who are you?”

“Nice accent. Brooklyn? I’m partial to Brooklyn.”

“Your name, punk!”

“They call me Figgy. Like figment of imagination. Cute, huh? Scoot over, bud. I need to chat with Dennae.”

“What if I don’t move?”

“Oh, well, then I’ll plant you in the floor. But that might hurt a bit and I think you’d prefer to finish your lunch, don’t you?”

“You? Plant me? Kid, you’re barely five feet tall.”

“Really? Do you think I should tell my parents or just hope I can grow a few more inches before they notice?”

“You’re nuts and I don’t like you.”

“You don’t like nuts? Or maybe you have an allergy? That would stink. Pistachios are my favorite.”

“Dennae, keep this guy busy. I’m going to talk to security.”

“What? But… Brad!”

“Chill, Dennae. I’m sure Brooklyn will be back. In the meantime, I’m here to rescue you. After you’ve finished your lunch, of course. Lasagna is not a thing to waste.”

“Rescue me from what?”

“Rejection.”

“Rejection from what? I haven’t even been Evaluated yet.”

“I know, but an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”

“What?”

“A stitch in time saves nine.”

“Huh?”

“Seriously, do you know none of these idioms?”

“No, I… I mean…”

“Okay, I’ll say it more clearly: When you are Evaluated, you’ll be Rejected from the program. And that’s very bad news.”

“No one gets Rejected. It’s not pass-or-fail.”

“Oh, you’re definitely going to be Rejected. And I’m definitely going to rescue you. Come on, eat up.”

“I need some explanations, Fig Newton.”

“Fig Newton? Cute. I like a girl with sass. Okay, explanations. Tell me, what do you think you’re being evaluated for?”

“Every sixteen-year-old gets Evaluated for natural aptitudes and genetic predispositions. After the Evaluation, they’ll assign me a career that best fits my aptitudes and preferences, and pick a spouse who will result in our offspring having the most likelihood of carrying on those traits. Well, if we can have kids. Most people can’t.”

“Mhmm. Very eloquently put—practically textbook—but wrong. Very wrong.”

“What?”

“When you were born, you got your heel pricked, right?”

“Every baby does. It’s to test for PKU.”

“Partially. They take some of the blood and put it into a genetic database. Now they know your entire genetic code. They vaccinate you as a baby too, don’t they?”

“Of course.”

“The vaccines are more than just vaccines. They’re solutions with nano-trackers that become part of your bloodstream. That’s how the doctor always knows your temperature, pulse, and blood pressure—and how the authorities always know exactly where you are.”

“What?”

“Want to know why your every electronic device is coded directly to your preferences and tastes? You’ve been tracked ever since you were born.”

“Okay, Mr. Conspiracy Theorist, so what’s all this about Rejection?”

“The Evaluators couldn’t care less about your aptitudes. They’re after your genes. Well, sort of. Heard of eugenics?”

“The idea of a ‘master race’? An ‘ideal human’?”

“You’re one smart cookie, Dennae.”

“You’re saying I’m going to be evaluated for master genes and I’ll be rejected because my genes are inferior?”

“Oh no, not at all! That was what the old eugenics programs thought. But they didn’t factor in epigenetics.”

“Epi-what?”

“The human genome is huge. Enormous! And there’s lots of information coded into your DNA that isn’t being actively used, but it’s still there. Imagine a building with a bajillion doors. Some doors are open and some doors are closed. It’s like bees.”

“Bees?”

“The queen bee and the worker bees have the same genetics, but when the queen bee is growing up, she eats the royal jelly, which opens up all these genetic doors. The worker bees don’t eat royal jelly through their development, so they don’t become special like the queen. Tada! Epigenetics.”

“I’m lost.”

“Maybe you understand academic better. Epigenetics is about how your genes express themselves. Sometimes you’re born with certain doors open. Sometimes an event opens a door or slams it shut. So the things that make you you don’t just rely on what genes you have, but whether your genes are expressed or not expressed. Open or closed. Theoretically, you are filled with genetic possibilities.”

“And this affects eugenics?”

“Heck, yeah! The new Evaluators realize that it’s more than just finding the perfect genetics. It’s about creating the perfect genetics by closing and opening doors.”

“And what does this have to do with me?”

“Ever wonder why so few people can have children? Oh, I’m sorry. Sore subject, huh? You’ve probably always doubted you’ll be one of the privileged few. Well, there’s good reason for doubt. All the people allowed to have kids…”

“Allowed!”

“Oh yes. The ones who haven’t been secretly sterilized.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Wish I were. The unsterilized few are the pillars of the new eugenics, the attempt to create a human race that is smarter, stronger, faster, and more long-lived. Remember when there used to be people who were mentally or physically challenged? Me neither. We’re too young. Anyway, the International Department of Human Improvement got rid of the people with Down’s Syndrome and cerebral palsy and autism and congenital disabilities. Then they weeded out the people with genetic disorders and predispositions to cancer and heart disease and diabetes and all those diseases. Now the Evaluators are on Stage 3. They’re refining the genetic pool even further based on epigenetics. What are the genetic possibilities of the people who remain? Can certain enhancing characteristics be ‘turned on’ and harvested for the next stage of refinement?”

“You’re freaking me out.”

“Why? I’m going to rescue you, so you’ll be safe.”

“You’re saying I’m going to be rejected in the next stage. They’ll put me to work, but they’ll make sure I can never have kids.”

“Except that won’t happen. You’ll have tons of kids and… Well, finally! They’re here. And you didn’t even finish your lasagna.”

“You should go, Figgy.”

“Why? I just got here.”

“What are you doing?”

“Handcuffs. Making sure we don’t get separated. Don’t worry, it’s old technology. They won’t know what to do with it. Should hold ‘em up for a while. Howdy, fellas! What’s with the gloom-and-doom expressions?”

“Sir, I need you to come with me.”

“You need me? Sounds dire. I’ll come right away.”

“Not the girl.”

“Trust me, you need her too. You just won’t know it for… Oh, about forty years.”

“Unlock the girl.”

“Can’t. I swallowed the key.”

“Captain Bryant, we don’t have time for this. Mr. Larrow wants the man in his office now. Take them both.”

“Yeah, take me to your leader!”

“Figgy, you’re insane.”
​
“Dennae, that’s without doubt the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

---

“Who are you?”

“Figgy. Like figment of the imagination.”

“You think you’re funny?”

“I don’t know. Am I?”

“Why are you here?”

“Well, they sent me because I don’t exist.”

“Who sent you?”

“The International Department for Human Improvement.”

“We’re the IDHI. And we certainly didn’t send you.”

“Not yet, you haven’t. But you will.”

“To do what, exactly?”

“Rescue Dennae. You’re going to reject her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. You’re going to evaluate her, reject her, sterilize her, and realize forty years too late that she has the only cure to save the world. Are you familiar with the phrase ‘The dose makes the poison?’ Many poisons, when used in a small enough dosage, actually act as medicine. It’s a scientific fact.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Poison. Obviously.”

“But what…”

“So here’s the problem. You’re going to find out that Dennae has a certain so-called ‘flaw’ and consider her unfit for procreation, and only find out forty years later that that exact ‘flaw’ makes her immune to a certain very deadly virus that is killing off all your supposedly perfect stock—excuse me, subjects—excuse me, human beings. I’m here to make sure Dennae can save the world. But you’re not going to listen to me. You even told me you wouldn’t listen to me. Hence the mission.”

“To rescue Miss Dennae?”

“I practically already have.”

“Huh?”

“I told you, I was sent because I don’t exist. I wasn’t born in this time, which means you haven’t pricked my heel or pumped me full of nano-trackers. Which means that I’m not in your system. Which means that I can’t be tracked or controlled. Which means that that little backdoor program you created to control people in case of an emergency won’t have any effect on me. Which means that when I activate it, I alone will remain functional. Which means I’ll get away with Dennae while you’re on the floor wondering how I knew about the backdoor program in the first place.”

“You’re crazy, kid.”

“No. Just ADHD. They brought back some of the old ‘problems’ when they realized they have uses.”

“Okay, joke’s over. I want straight answers to my questions now.”

“Hang on, I have a question first. Did anyone stop to wonder why I didn’t just spawn in the cafeteria? Ha, that makes you nervous, doesn’t it? It’s because the hallway is quiet. I needed quiet so that the computer system would hear my voice clearly when I spoke the secret code. Wanna know what the code is? I’ll give you a clue. You’re looking right at it. Come on, it’s obvious!”

“What? That stupid message on your T-shirt?”

“See if you can figure it out.”

“It’s nonsense. ‘Ache Leans Late.’ It's obviously just a diver… Aaaah!”

“Ouch, that was a hard fall, buddy. Dennae, it’s okay, I’ve got you. Don’t be afraid. The paralysis will wear off as soon as I get you back to the future. Mr. Larrow, sir, it was delightful to meet your younger self and all your cronies. I’m instructed by your future self to tell you that you have a lot to learn and that, if you take the time to read the message in this envelope that I’m tucking so comfortably under your arm just now, you might still have time to do something truly worthwhile for the human race.

“Okay, Dennae, now let’s head back out into the hall so we have a clear departure route. The time aperture closes in… Oh, thirty seconds. No fear—I won’t drop you.

“So while we get to the departure point, I bet you’re wondering what just happened back there. Okay, I lied. I didn’t create a code. I just needed Mr. Larrow to think I did. And I spawned in the empty hallway because it’s the safest place to spawn—no chance of accidentally materializing in the middle of someone else.

“So what does my shirt mean? In linguistics, it’s called a juncture, the relationship between two consecutive sounds. For some reason, no matter how sophisticated we make computers, they really struggle with distinguishing between sounds the way the human ear can. That’s why autocorrect comes out with ‘house the why funk heads’ when you’re using speech-to-text to ask, ‘How’s the wife and kids?’ So I just triggered Mr. Larrow to speak the password for the emergency protocol. ‘Ache leans late’ becomes ‘A clean slate.’ That’s what Mr. Larrow was looking for in IDHI, a new start to the world. But I think he needs a new start to his goals, don’t you? A clean slate for the IDHI ideology.

“Ah, feel that tingle in your spine? Just relax and let the time aperture close over you. It won’t hurt, I promise.
​
“See you in the future, Dennae. You’re about to save the world.”

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