Epilogue

Theo

Aheadache feels like it is splitting my brain apart. People are talking above me, breaking my brain in two. I'm lying on a hard surface in a white room that smells like bleach. Bright lights glare down from above, making me squint.

"Professor?" I blink up at a beautiful woman looking down at me with wide, worried eyes. "Are you there, Professor? Did the host accept?"

"I'm still working on integration," my mouth replies in a voice that isn't my own. "He's a surly one. Impulsive. Not ideal. Normally, the host is prepared and accepting. But I will make do."

"Oh, thank goodness," the woman blinks, and tears fall from her eyes onto me. "I was going to offer my host for your embodiment if you didn't…"

"That's inappropriate," I say, but it's not really me who's saying it. "Get a handle on your emotions, please. There is work to be done." A shudder of revulsion travels through me. I'm aware that there is something taboo about what she just offered.

"I'm sorry, but I thought you were dead." She stares down at me with big brown eyes, full lips, and beautiful brown skin that looks as smooth as the sky on a clear day.

She was there when they killed me, I realize. She was there when you killed me. You're still alive. Half alive, anyway. I scream in pain; the voice in my head is unbearable. But I'm not screaming. My mouth is firmly shut.

I sit up and look around. There are sleek, unfamiliar contraptions lining the walls, their purpose unclear to me. Three women and three men stand around me wearing unusual green—jumpsuits, the voice in my head provides. They're all too good-looking. Too tall. Too healthy. Genetically enhanced. What is genetically enhanced? I know what it is. The murderers. They killed me. No, I. You. Me. We're the same now. It is best if you accept it. I contain multitudes, the voice in my head explains. Shut up! I try to exclaim—but the words never leave my mouth.

"Eva," I manage to make my voice come out. "You killed her?" My voice clarifies, "The young woman with me. What happened to her?"

The beautiful brown woman—Ava is her name—tells me, "It was unusual. It seems a destruction stole her away. She's likely dead. He killed three of our people." Her voice sounds like a river on a hot day.

"Interesting. Unexpected," I say. But it isn't me.

The Magus must have finally come for Eva. But I don't think he would kill her. But what would he do with her? What did he want with her? He didn't want me to have her.

"I just had an epiphany," I say. "Integrating with this native Earthling will be an unexpected boon. I will know his knowledge, and we no longer must concern ourselves with interrogating any other Earthlings."

Wait—if you're not from Earth, where are you from? I try to say it, but my mouth is glued shut.

I answer myself. Mars, of course. We are Martians, come to return to Earth to claim what is ours.