Origin by Jessica Khoury Read Free Book Online Page A

destiny of which I’ve dreamed for years: creating others like me. My own kind. Immortal, perfect people who will in turn help create even more of us. In time, we’ll no longer be an isolated group hidden in the jungle, but a
race
. Thinking of that day almost brings tears to my eyes, I want it so badly.
    It’s all part of the plan that Dr. Falk wrote out a century ago. Well, most of it’s part of the plan. The Accident wasn’t anywhere in the plan, but it happened anyway.
    If it wasn’t for the Accident, Alex and Marian would have had a baby girl. When they ran from Little Cam, Marian was pregnant. That baby girl was supposed to have been bred to my Uncle Antonio, and
their
son would have been my “Mr. Perfect,” as Dr. Klutz put it. Then we would have started the new race together. So much for Dr. Falk’s great plan.
    Alex and Marian died, and my immortal mate died with them. So now I have to wait for Uncle Paolo to make onefrom scratch. And he can’t do that until he decides I’m ready to help. Which means I must pass more Wickham tests. The thought destroys the little appetite I had, as I remember the quivering heartbeat of the sparrow in my palm.
    “I’d like to see San Francisco,” my father says dreamily as he plays with a shrimp on his plate.
    “That’s ridiculous,” says my mother. “You’re never going to see San Francisco. Your place is here, in Little Cam.”
    I look from one parent to the other, wondering suddenly if they ever looked out their windows the way I look out mine. I wonder if they hate the fence like I do, and if the jungle calls to them too. They have been outside, of course. My father sometimes goes with Uncle Antonio to collect specimens, and my mother has even been as far as the Little Mississip. One day Uncle Paolo will let me out too, but it’s so
hard
to wait.
    “Uncle Will,” I say as I help myself to some fresh plantain, “have you ever seen a map of the world?” I ask him and not Mother because I already know what she’ll say.
Of course not, Pia. That’s ridiculous
.
    But I see that even Uncle Will is growing anxious with the turn of the conversation. “No, Pia. No.” He says nothing more, but he wipes his mouth, throws his napkin on the table, and stands up. “I have some tests to run in the lab.”
    I watch him go, wishing I had a lab to run off to. All I have is my glass room. It’s times like these that I almost wish I hadn’t stopped them from plastering my walls, however fond of the view I am.
    My glass room is wonderful for looking out, but not very good for hiding.

FIVE
    T oday I am seventeen years old.
    Seventeen birthdays down. An eternity of them to go.
    Evening falls, and I take out the dress Dr. Klutz picked for me. When I stand in front of my mirror and see it on me, I feel breathless. No matter what I think of Dr. Klutz, I can’t deny that the dress is beautiful. It does match my eyes, like my mother said. My eyes are the same blue-green of the rainforest. I pin strands of my hair above one ear and let a few fall across the sides of my face.
    I would never have known about parties were it not for Clarence the janitor. One night while I ate dinner in the dining hall, he forgot I was sitting nearby and began recounting what his life had been like before he came to Little Cam. No one is supposed to talk about their past lives. That’s the first rule here, the one that everyone must read and sign on the day they arrive. But sometimes they forget, and I hear stories. Clarence talked about the day he met his wife at a party withdresses and tuxedos and cake. After his wife died in a car accident, he left everything behind to come here.
    It was a sad story, but it made me dream of parties. When I asked Uncle Paolo for a party with dresses and cake, he wanted me to tell him where I heard such stories. I told him that I’d read about it in the dictionary, which was a lie, but he let me have the party. Sometimes I wonder why everyone else seems so timid