Intended Extinction by Greg Hanks Read Free Book Online Page A

the world become free from the chains of Edge once and for all. We ask that you read the directions within this Note, detailing how a Collector is used, where your stations will be, and what you can do if you have any problems. Join the effort and help us with the cleanse. Thank you, and remember, here at GenoTec, we are always coming up with better ways to save your life.
     
    Archturus Slate, CEO
     
    There was a long pause after we finished. I kept replaying the words in my mind, trying to satisfy my confusion. Tara scrolled down, revealing the directions.
    “So we’re Volunteers now?” I asked. “Is this how they recruit?”
    “It’s kind of exciting.” She reached into the box and pulled out a Collector.
    “This seems like a job GenoTec could do from within the—” I looked at the Note again, “— Vaxinators anyways. It’s like they’re keeping tabs on us or something.”
    She furrowed her brow, and then smiled. “Are you serious?”
    “Never mind, I know it sounds stupid.”
    She studied me. “I know it’s all come so fast,” she said, “and maybe we’ve all just been slaves to Edge so long that we can’t understand when GenoTec finally has something concrete.”
    “No, it’s . . . never mind. I guess they already have tabs on us.” I looked over the directions one more time, completely embarrassed and a little mad.
    Tara continued to look at me with her icy blue eyes, smiling curiously as if she wanted to unlock the vault to my soul. I realized then that we hadn’t really gotten to know each other. It was all business. Maybe that would change.
    For the next while, we went over the directions. We were to collect together, never to use another Vaxinator that wasn’t on our list—to keep things “orderly.” We would place the nozzle of the Collector into the specified socket on the Vaxinator and it would claim the data. After that, the info would be automatically sent to GenoTec. Then, to reset it for the next station, there was a glyph on the touch screen.
    Our places to visit were labeled with a corresponding mini-map. We were asked to collect from the Turnmont, a restaurant called Brankas, and two other prestigious high-rises: the Excelsior and the Constitution. Just as the letter described, we were to collect every week. The last paragraph detailed what we should do if something went wrong.
    “If you are experiencing difficulties with your Collector,” I read aloud, “if it gets broken or lost, please contact a GenoTec Support Volunteer to help you resolve the matter.”
    There was a small, square icon with a picture of a phone behind a “G.” They were just one tap away.
    “I wonder what problems they might have, it seems pretty simple to me,” said Tara, pulling out the other Collector and setting it on the table before me. I lowered the data sheet and grabbed the cylindrical device. I handled it carefully, feeling the intricate nozzle, the sleek metal, and the crystal touch screen.
    The Vaxinators hadn’t arrived yet, and I had a beautiful woman standing next me—who I was supposed to stick with for the next few months. I think it was time I laid some groundwork.
    “So where you from, Tara?” I said, setting down the Collector.
    “My hometown? Hartford. I left for Manhattan when I was about ten,” she looked sad for some reason. “I’ve been here ever since.”
    We talked for what seemed like hours. Our conversation felt easy and comfortable. We were about to become collecting buddies, so we ought to know last names, at least. Her story was simple, yet compelling. Tragically, her parents both died when she was young, which was the reason she had said she left Connecticut. The pain and sorrow associated with an event like that would have thrown me overboard. But she held strong. She was a fighter.
    “I can still remember the place where I used to play,” she reminisced. “Back behind my home there was this huge tree—probably dead by now. It overlooked this beautiful