“The question every sentient mind asks itself at one point or another: Why do I exist?”

“The answer’s here on the Beagle?”

“Yes and no. We named the sub the Beagle in honor of another famous ship of the same name.”

“The ship that carried Charles Darwin around the world—when he formed his early beliefs, what became the theory of evolution.”

“That’s right. We believed that Darwin’s theory was only half of the true picture of the nature of humanity—that the full truth was even more shocking.”

“And you found evidence of your theory?”

“Yes. We called our work the Extinction Files. We believed that by studying the genomes of extinct and living species, we could finally unravel the greatest secrets of the human race. What we found was… it was something none of us would ever have imagined.” Lin paused, as if considering what to say next. “But we needed more data to confirm our theory.”

More data, Peyton thought. “In the cordons, they took DNA samples from every patient.”

“I was only told that the data would be collected, not how. Nevertheless, right now, somewhere in a Citium lab, those billions of genetic samples are being sequenced. If we can obtain that data, and combine it with the samples down here, we’ll finally know the truth.”

“What are you telling me, Mom?”

“There’s a code—buried in the human genome. And if our theory is correct, what it leads to will change our very understanding of human existence.”

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

In the days after the X1-Mandera pandemic ended, the South Australia Relief Alliance, or SARA, was inundated with refugees seeking help. Luckily, they had a new staff member.

Andrew was thankful for the work. It kept him from thinking about what had happened and what he had done. He would never forgive himself, no matter how many patients he treated, how many lives he saved. For the rest of his life, he would carry a debt that could never be repaid.

Charlotte had tried to get him to move on, but he couldn’t. She insisted that time heals all wounds. He wasn’t sure he believed that. But he wanted to.

He stepped into a patient room and closed the door. His prosthetic arm held a simple attachment, his other hand a clipboard with the patient’s name. His own name had been something of a dilemma. Andrew Shaw was technically dead. And if anyone ever came looking, he didn’t want to be found. In that sense, the remote, outback aid camp was the perfect place for him. All there was to do here was work and spend time with Charlotte. They had a lifetime to catch up on.

“Hi,” he said. “My name’s William Moore. I’m the attending physician today. How are you feeling?”