Vivification

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/44092023.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Fandom: Avatar (Cameron Movies)
Relationship: Jake Sully & Tom Sully
Character: Tom Sully, Jake Sully, Others to Be Added As they Appear in the Fic,
General Frances Ardmore
Additional Tags: cloning, Medical Experimentation, Resurrection, Identity Issues,
Dehumanization, (so to speak), Body Horror, Medical Torture,
Claustrophobia, Claustrophobia as Torture
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-01-06 Updated: 2023-01-08 Chapters: 7/? Words:
13794

Vivification
by Jennie_D

Summary

"Jake Sully cares about family, huh? Well then, fine. We'll give that traitor family."

Thomas Sully wakes in pain.

He gasps for breath, trying to fill his lungs. His eyes ache against harsh light. His arms, his
hands, his fingers, his nails felt sore, felt stretched.

Felt wrong.

Notes

Starting yet another fic, but after I saw the movie this one wouldn't get out of my head.
Cameron really has a way of introducing minor elements that I find incredibly interesting.
In this case, it's the recoms, since I was very curious about their status? I mean what are
they, under law? Are they considered people with rights? Or are they considered RDA IP?
This does not come up in the film since all the people the RDA cloned seemed all too
happy to follow the RDA's orders but what if that wasn't the case?

Also, now that resurrection / cloning is on the table in these movies, that really ups the
potential for very mean things the RDA can do with it.
 Chapter 1

Tom awoke to pain.

He gasped for breath, trying to get the air to fill his lungs. But something was wrong, they
wouldn’t fill properly. It reminded him of growing up by the chemical plant, of being trapped, of
being shut in a train while it filled with flame and smoke.

He gasped faster and faster, trying to catch his breath, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t, and his breath
came ever faster.

Tom swiped at his eyes, eyes that ached against harsh light. His arms, his hands, his fingers, his
nails were sore, felt stretched, felt wrong.

They looked wrong too. Something…something…

He retched once, twice, then began to choke on sick. He desperately tried to turn his weak head to
the side, to save himself. But he kept gasping, gasping between retches, sucking sick back into
himself, coughing…

He was vaguely aware of a commotion around him, of a tube in his throat, of someone yelling with
authority, of a needle pricking at his arm. Then of coolness rushing through his veins, of calmness
that didn’t belong to him, of sleep.

In his last thought before he lost consciousness, Tom wondered why his hands looked blue.

When he woke next, stirring slightly from sleep, he felt steady. He knew the feeling didn’t stem
from him, Tom had been drugged often enough to know what it felt like. And he’d been sedated
plenty of times when brain mapping for the…for the…

The thought drifted away.

He lifted a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, trying to will the blurriness out of his eyes. He
froze when his hand crossed his line of sight.

He stared at the skin there, at the shaded blue bands that stretched across unfamiliar fingers.

It was wrong.

And it wasn’t just the strange skin; the scar he’d gotten in undergrad was gone, as was the mole
that had been on his thumb as long as he could remember.

These weren’t his hands.

And yet he wasn’t fully shocked by this. These weren’t his hands. And that wasn’t unexpected
because…because…

The thought crystalized. Because of the Avatar program.

Because he was going to study. He was going somewhere…far away. Another planet. No, a moon.
Pandora, that was it. He was going to study, and to be a diplomatic bridge with the locals, so he
needed a body, a body like theirs.

More and more of it came back to Tom, a kind of relief flooding in. There was nothing wrong,
nothing horrifying, nothing like he’d feared. He’d just gotten a shock when waking in this body,
he’d been warned that could happen. They had contingencies for it.

But then he frowned. The contingencies involved waking him up in his real body, not sedating him.
So why was he strapped to a hospital bed?

Tom tried to cast around his memory, think through the events that had led to this moment. He’d
been…he’d been…

A door opened. A woman in a lab coat walked in, staring down at a clipboard in hand.
“Ex-excuse me?” Tom asked, voice hoarse and muffled by a breathing mask. “What’s going on?
What happened?”

The woman didn’t answer.

“I’m not trying to - I’m sorry for bothering you. I’m just trying to piece things together.”

She was checking some dials across the room. She still did not answer.

Tom’s eyebrows knit together. “Hello? Hello can you hear me? Please tell me what’s going on.
Please.”

The woman moved towards him, but only to check his IV bag.

“Please, please talk to me. Please. Is something wrong? I just want to know what’s happening.”

Her hand brushed his to check the needle where the IV was connected. He reached out and touched
her fingers.

For the first time she paused, meeting his eyes. She quickly looked away.

“I can’t talk to you without my supervisor present,” she murmured.

“But wait, I-”

The woman turned another dial, and rapidly Tom felt himself losing consciousness once more.

He tried to cling to himself, tried to force his eyes open, clenched his palm tight hoping pain would
keep him alert. But he lost the fight quickly, and found himself drifting away.
When Tom struggled to consciousness once more, he made out the blurry figures of people. Lots of
people.

He startled, tried to push himself up in bed. But he was lashed down too tightly for his arms to
move much.

“Good morning,” one of the people greeted. “How are you feeling?”

Tom tried to answer, but the breathing mask was now too constricting, he couldn’t form words.
With a mounting panic, he realized there was a new tube stuck up his nostrils as well, making it
harder to breathe.

He could feel his heart hammering, heard some beeping nearby get louder and louder.

The person who had spoken looked annoyed. “Clara, get that off him. That should have been done
before we woke him up.”

“Of course, Doctor Andrews,” said a voice, and suddenly there were hands on him, pulling the
tubes out, loosening the mask, making it easier to breathe. Tom licked his lips. They were dry,
chapped.

“Please,” Tom gasped out. “What’s happening? Please.”

The lead here, Doctor Andrews, looked at Tom assesingly. “I am going to ask you a series of
questions. These questions are meant to get a sense of your current mental functions. Do you
understand?”

Tom nodded. “And then you’ll tell me what happened?”

Doctor Andrews looked down at a tablet. “What is your name?”

Tom swallowed. “Thomas Patrick Sully.”

“What is your birth date?”

“August 24, 2126.”

“How old are you?”

“21.”

At this, the doctor paused and noted something on the tablet. “Where were you born?”

“Boston, Massachusetts.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Dorchester, Massachusetts.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“I did my undergrad and masters at Harvard, then got a PhD in alien biology at the University of
Cassini.”

“Have you spent time living off-world?”

“I just told you I went to the University of-”

“Just answer the questions in a straightforward way.”

Tom huffed. “I lived for 18 months on the Lunar southern pole while studying at the University of
Cassini.”

“Do you have any living family?”

“My brother, Jake.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Last year, at our grandfather’s funeral.”

“Please state that year, for the record.”

“Why do I need to-”

“Please state that year.”

“2147.”

Doctor Andrews made another note. “Where does your brother live?”

“I’m…I’m not sure, he’s drifted around since he lost the use of his legs. Last I heard he was in
Charlotte, North Carolina.”

“Who were your legal guardians growing up?”

“Our grandparents, Liam and Patricia Sully.”

“What happened to your parents?”

Tom paused. “That’s a bit of a personal question, don’t you think?”

“Just answer the question as asked.”

“I mean, I don’t really feel comfortable answering in front of all these-”

“Answer the question.”

Tom decided it wasn’t worth it to fight it. “My father died in a chemical plant accident when we
were six. My mother was sentenced to a mining colony in the asteroid belt after she was convicted
of felony theft. We got word she died there when we were about fifteen.”

Doctor Andrews nodded. “What would you say is your most traumatic memory?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“I’m not answering that. You have no right to ask me-”

“Mr. Sully. These questions are designed for a scientific purpose, and if I reveal to you the nature
of that purpose, it may affect your answers. As a scientist, I would expect you know that an
experiment cannot be sacrificed simply to appease individual curiosity.”

Tom bit down on his dry lip. His teeth caught a bit of skin, worried at it.

“Fine. When I was a kid, I was caught underground in a train fire near Park Street Station. I almost
didn’t make it out alive.”

“Does this memory have any lingering effects?”

Tom peeled the bit of skin off his inner lip with his teeth. He tasted the barest amount of blood. It
tasted slightly wrong, not quite coppery enough.

“Claustrophobia, pyrophobia. Pretty typical.”

“Where are you currently living?”

“Cambridge, Massachusetts.”

“Why?”

“I’m studying at the biolab mockup there, preparing for my next project.”

“And what is that project?”

He gestured, as best he could with his arms bound, to his blue hands. “I’ve been accepted into the
RDA’s Avatar program, as a contributor to their zoology and botany team.”

“Who accepted you?”

“I believe I’m meant to be working for Dr. Grace Augustine. Is she here?”

“When was your last training session?”

“It was…” Tom paused, trailed off. He suddenly wasn’t sure. “I think…I think it might have been
last week sometime? We were going over brain mapping, preparing to go into an fMRI.”

But no, that wasn’t right. “Wait, no, I think I actually did go into the fMRI, but that was…that was
a later appointment…when…”

“Let’s try something else. What do you and your brother have most in common?”
“Well, we’re both stubborn I guess.”

“If you had to say your brother had a weakness, what would it be?”

“I mean, he can be kind of impulsive? What is this about?”

“Would you say you and your brother have a good relationship?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him.”

“Tell me a good memory you have of him.”

“Um…we used to love going to old Fenway with Grandma when we were kids.”

“Tell me something you said to each other the last time you saw him.”

He huffed. “I’d prefer another line of questioning, please.”

“Answer the-”

“No. I already told you it was a funeral, I don’t want to relive that. I can tell you something else.”

Doctor Andrews raised his eyebrows. “Fine. Can you tell me what today’s date is?”

And then Tom was left wandering again. “I…I’m not…I don’t know.”

“Can you tell me what month it is?”

“It’s…it’s February I think? No…wait no St. Patrick’s Day happened, I went out for that. Maybe
it's April? Maybe?”

“And what year is it?”

“It’s 2148. I’m sure of that.”

Doctor Andrews nodded. “Just one more question. What is the last thing you remember?”

He tried to cast his mind back, tried to find a specific spot where everything ended. But it was all
scattered, every time he tried to think of his last memory he thought of a later one, of an earlier one.
His mind twisted like a spiderweb caught in the wind, trying to find an answer.

Doctor Andrews was noting down his mindless sputters as if he’d given an actual answer. “Clara,
adjust the IV drip please. 20 additional cc’s.”

Panic seized him. “Wait, no, I don’t want to go back to sleep. Can you tell me what happened? I
know I’m in an Avatar body, but why? What don’t I remember?”

Doctor Andrews left the room without another word. His team filled out behind him as Tom’s
eyesight faded.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for a long while. When he was awake, he tried to beg the
techs and nurses attending to him for answers.

They never spoke to him. And he was never kept awake for long.

It was disorienting, frightening. What could the purpose of keeping him in the dark possibly be?
Why couldn’t he remember what happened? If he was in an Avatar body, he must be on Pandora.
But he couldn’t remember medical prep, boarding the spacecraft, entering cryo, none of it.
Something must have gone wrong. But then why hide it from him? Why go to such lengths to keep
him in the dark? He could think of no good reason for it. He’d been clear on the parameters when
he’d signed his RDA contract, and nothing like this had been buried in the fine print.

Something was wrong. Really, truly wrong.

He needed to have time to think, to get his head together.

But for that, he needed to be awake for more than a few minutes.

So Tom picked at the IV on his arm, pulled out the needle as quickly as he could. He had to strain
to reach it with his arms strapped down, and pulling it out was painful. But he didn’t make a sound,
made sure no one heard him.

It bled, a little, when he pulled the needle out, though not as much as he feared. Still, he couldn’t
leave an obvious mess for the nursing staff to find.

So he leaned over, reached as far as he could, and lapped up the blood with his rough tongue. It
was truly, deeply disgusting. But still, he’d happily exchange disgust for a little bit of knowledge.

When his arm was relatively clean, he put the tape back over it, taped the needle on the top of his
skin rather than within it.

He leaned back, relaxed in bed. And slowly, he felt his mind begin to clear.

A few things became obvious right away. One, this was not the lab he’d been told he’d be working
in. He didn’t recognize any of the personnel, even though he’d been briefed on the entire staff of
the program. And the technology looked different, somehow more updated than anything he’d
seen. Which made little sense since the RDA had the best of everything but…still. He hadn’t even
known holograms of such high resolution were possible.

Tom cast his eyes around, trying to take in what he could. The look of the room was distinctly
military, from the vaguely green blankets on the other beds to the stenciled lettering above the
doors. There was a small spinning medical hologram of what looked like his own Avatar body on
the far side of the room. The brain was highlighted and enlarged for visual study, specifically the
equivalents of the hippocampus, neo-cortex and amygdala.
He bent down a bit to brush a hand to his forehead. There were accompanying sensors plastered to
his skin.

Someone entered the room. He kept his eyes hooded, half closed, hoping his wakefulness wouldn’t
be noticed.

Luckily, the tech didn’t seem to notice the medical hologram. Instead, she went to a computer
nearby, seemingly preparing a new piece of equipment.

The computer readout came to life, bringing up a desktop. There was a date on the upper right
corner. When he saw it, Tom bit down on a scream.

The date read May 5, 2171.

 Chapter 2

Tom was reeling, his mind turning over and over and over.

It was 2171. Nearly 25 years had somehow passed, without him even noticing.

Had he spent too long in cryo? Had his body been damaged beyond repair? Is that why he was in
an Avatar?

Oh God, Jake probably thought he was dead. He’d never even had a chance to tell him that he was
planning to move 4 light years away. Jake was almost 50. Was he married? Did he have kids? He’d
probably never know.

Maybe Jake didn't think he was dead. Maybe Jake thought Tom had just faded out of his life, had
chosen never to speak to him again after the fight at Grandpa’s funeral.

He didn’t know which option was worse.

Tom had never even had the chance to say goodbye. Yes, they hadn’t been close since they were
kids, but Tom at least should have had the chance to say goodbye.

He tried to breathe evenly. It wouldn’t be good to have a panic attack, not now.

He suddenly smelled stale sweat. His right ear flicked, a strange sensation that made him flinch.

He could hear someone. Someone was walking down the hall.

He laid back, feigning sleep. However, immediately upon entering the room, the steps stuttered.

Damn. Whoever this was, they clearly knew how to read the medical hologram layout.
“I know you’re awake,” a deep voice said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop pretending.”

Tom opened his eyes. A woman in her late 40’s stood across from him in a pair of scrubs. She
looked at him, concerned, clearly trying to project some sort of maternal vibe.

Tom was not buying it. Especially since, he realized with a jolt, he and this woman might in truth
be about the same age.

She looked at this arm, at the askew tape holding down the unattached needle. “Mr. Sully, did you
pull out your IV? I must admit I’m surprised, I figured a scientist such as yourself would
understand the need for supplemental nutrients during stress.”

Tom stared her down. “My medical information is being withheld from me. I have a right to know
what’s going on.”

“Mr. Sully if you’d just-”

“I was perfectly cogent when speaking to Doctor Andrews, and yet I was still sedated against my
will. My arms are being restrained for no clear medical purpose. I know my rights.”

Her gaze cooled. “This is being done for your benefit-”

“In that case, please get a medical professional who can explain to me the nature of my injuries.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You can. Or you get me a lawyer who can advocate on my behalf.”

“Mr. Sully, we can’t get you an attorney.”

“No? Am I free to leave?”

The woman just looked at him, face like ice.

Tom refused to be intimidated. “You cannot keep me here without telling me what’s going on.”

She cleared her throat. “Let me see what I can do.”

Tom tried to feel a bit comforted, settled, as she left the room. It didn’t stick.

Countless hours later, a man in a suit entered the lab, flanked by a mixed cadre of people in
business casual and lab coats.

The man was short, and had the distinct look of someone who was pissed he had to take time out of
his day to deal with something irrelevant.

Tom’s eyes narrowed. Well too damn bad. This guy could make time to talk to him.

“So,” the businessman said. “I hear you’re up and asking questions.”

“What’s going on?”

“Straight to the point then,” the man said with an annoyed sigh. “Good, at least this won’t take a
ton of time. Okay. You’re on Pandora. You’re in an Avatar body. The link is permanent, you
cannot go back into your human body.”

Tom felt all the blood drain from his face. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s hard.” The man didn’t sound sorry at all. “But you can still have a fulfilling
life here at this RDA complex, and we are more than willing to make that happen for you. To give
you a life, a purpose, a job that will make a real difference.”
“But I didn’t…I didn’t agree to this. I read my paperwork front to back, twice. There was nothing
like this in the contract.”

The businessman rolled his eyes. “And if I told you we did it to save your life, then what? You’d
rather be dead?”

Tom was silent for a long moment. “I want a lawyer. I want a lawyer now.”

“Yeah, I heard you’d said something like that before. You realize we’re like 4 million miles away
from the nearest ambulance chaser, right?”

“You can’t just shove someone into a strange body against their will!”

“You make it sound like we killed you, but here you are, walking and talking. We even made you
taller. You should be thanking us really.”

“I can never go home! I’ll never be able to see my family again!”

The man snorted. “Well, I wouldn’t put money on that. But please, believe me, we saved you
because we have an important job for you to do. You could have a real impact on humanity here,
could save the world even.”

Tom scoffed.

“Hey, don’t knock it kid, we really do have an important purpose for you.”

“Whatever it is, it can wait until I’ve spoken with a lawyer on Earth.”

“Seriously, do you know how difficult it is to reach Earth from here? How long it takes? How
absolutely fucking expensive it is?”

“I don’t care. I’m not doing anything for you until I have some representation.”
The businessman’s face darkened.

A few of his lackeys glanced at each other. “Sir, do you want us to establish a link-”

“No, for fucks sake, we’re in a financial hole with this already. We’re not wasting money calling
Earth to make blueberry Lazarus feel better.”

Tom glanced up sharply. “Lazarus?”

“Oh you caught that, great.”

“You claimed the RDA did this to save my life. What did you mean?”

The man was quiet for a long moment. Eventually, he sighed, and arranged his face into an attempt
at sympathy.

“Look, usually there’s a video that does this part, and I have no idea how to deliver this kind of
news. So I’m just going to rip the bandaid off. Tom Sully is dead.”

Tom felt the blood drain from his face. “What?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, you got mugged and murdered back in August of 2148. I’m sorry about that. I really am.
Would have saved us all a lot of trouble if you’d been with the RDA from the start.”

The words barely skated over Tom’s consciousness. “I can’t, I can’t be dead. I can’t be. I’m not
dead.”

His breaths were coming fast, too fast.

The businessman’s brow furrowed. “Hey, if we pump up the oxygen into his mask, will that have
the same effect as a human? Will it calm him down some?”
“I am human,” Tom gasped, holding onto that simple truth like a lifeline. “And I’m fine. I don’t
need…I don’t need that.”

The businessman shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

Tom looked around wildly. “If I’m, if I’m d…if I’m dead, how am I here ? How am I awake?”

“Well, we already had your DNA workup for an Avatar body, we keep extra DNA samples in
storage indefinitely. As for your mind, it’s kind of incredible. The RDA was able to rebuild your
memories through all the mapping they did of your brain all those years back. You had plenty of
brain scans during your prep time, more than enough data to work with. Though I guess for
whatever reason the team had issues bringing the last few months fully up to snuff, but whatever.
Long story short, you’re a marvel of modern science.”

Tom’s breaths were still too shallow. “I didn’t want this,” he whispered again. “I didn’t ask for it.”

The businessman came over and patted him on the shoulder. “Look at it this way. Not many
people get a second chance at life. And you have the shot to do something really important-”

“No,” Tom said suddenly, flinching away from the touch as much as he could. “No, I don’t want
this. I don’t want to be some lab rat.”

“Believe me, you’re far more valuable than a lab rat.”

“I don’t want this. You can’t do this to me without my consent.”

The man started to look annoyed again. “So…what…you want us to kill you? Just throw that
expensive body of yours into the garbage disposal?”

Tom gulped. “I don’t know what I want, except that I didn’t ask to be part of this. I didn’t sign any
consent forms. And so I do not want to cooperate until I have a fuller picture of my rights.”
“Rights? Jesus fucking Christ, rights ? Do you want to know something about your rights, kid?”

One of the man’s assistants tried to capture his attention, get him to stop speaking, but the man
shook him off and charged on. He pointed his finger directly at Tom’s chest.

“You say you didn’t sign consent forms? The hell you didn’t. Tom Sully agreed to give the RDA
indefinite use of all intellectual property gained from the Avatar program. And guess what? That
intellectual property includes those old brain scans and your cloned DNA.”

Tom’s heart dropped to his feet. “So that…that means-”

“Sound it out kid, I hear you’re smart.”

He could barely form the words. “Does that mean I’m RDA property?”

“For all intents and purposes, yes. We own your body. We own your memories. We own every
thought in your head. All of it was put together by our science teams, and is therefore ours to do
with as we like.”

The horror was swallowing him, he felt like he was drowning in it. “You…you can’t…there’s no
legal precedent. You can’t do this.”

“If you want to try to sue, go ahead. Good luck reaching a lawyer without use of our comms, which
we will not allow you access to.”

What was he going to do? Oh God, what was he going to do?

The businessman slapped him on the shoulder again. “Don’t look so depressed, kid. As I said, it’s
not all bad. You’re going to help us save the world.”
 Chapter 3

They left him alone in the dark a long time after that. Tom wasn’t sure if this was an intentional
tactic to intimidate him, or if they’d just momentarily forgotten he was there.

He tried to sleep, but rarely moved past a doze. It was hard to truly rest with the straps cutting into
his arms, with the knowledge of his status bearing down on him.

Tom’s mind cycled with potential solutions, with ways out of this. He repeated back to himself
pieces of his training, things he’d been taught about the RDA, their structure.

He wished he’d paid more attention to those lessons in the past; while training he’d always found
learning about the RDA as an organization dull. He’d wanted to skip straight to the science.

Jake used to say that, for all of Tom’s smarts, he could be a real dumbass. Maybe he’d been right.

Still, he did think of a few options.

“I want to talk to the UN representative.”

The nurse entering the room paused in the doorway. “Well hello to you too.”

“Every offworld outpost is required to have a representative from the United Nations present to
ensure international law is being followed. I want to talk to them.”

“Okay. I’ll pass along your request.”

“I want to talk to them now.”

The nurse sighed. “Look, Mr. Sully. I just came here to let you loose for a few hours. Dr. Andrews
wants you to get a look at the facility, at our work here. Stetch your legs, get a sense of the mission
you’ll be helping with. I have clothes for you, there’s food waiting in the commissary. Do you want
to get up, or wait here?”

Tom shifted under the straps. He felt ridiculous, like a little dog, easily swayed from his purpose by
the promise of a walk. “And after the commissary, can I speak with the UN representative?”

“I’ll bring your request up the chain.”

After a long moment, Tom nodded. “Alright then. I’ll go.”

The nurse came over to unstrap him. She seemed friendly, smiling. Tom couldn’t help but notice
the taser tucked in her belt.

Half an hour later, Tom was up, decked out in the most massive pair of scrubs he’d ever seen.
Doctor Andrews had returned, was talking at length about how he couldn’t wait for Tom to see the
work they were doing here. Andrews was far friendlier than he’d been during the question and
answer session, and much kinder than the horrible businessman from yesterday. Tom wondered if
they’d decided to have Andrews play the good cop, to win Tom over.

There were several people with him, most of whom didn’t speak. Tom wasn’t sure they were there
to guard him, he didn’t see any visible weapons. But their eyes seemed to track every movement he
made.

No one had given Tom shoes. That felt ominous.

Tom shuffled along, unused to walking in this body. His equilibrium felt all off. He’d been warned
in his initial training that this could happen, so he knew the science teams likely knew it would be a
possibility. Yet it was hard not to notice the irritation on everyone’s faces when he moved too
slowly, when he stumbled.

It was hard not to be impressed by this place. The complex was huge, much bigger than the old
Hell’s Gate building he’d been assigned to initially. Tom supposed 30 years of continuous
development would do that. Andrews wouldn't stop bragging about the giant 3D printer they'd
assembled to speed building, and it was admittedly fascinating to watch it in motion.

This place was substantial. An achievement.

Perhaps too much of one.

A glasslike roof was being constructed over the whole complex, presumably to preserve the
Earthlike atmosphere inside. There was some beautiful housing, better housing than Tom’d ever be
able to afford in Boston. There were shops being built, restaurants, a theater. It was a bit
ridiculous. What was next, a Pandoran theme park?

The biology lab, however, was like something out of a dream. 10 different floors, the most
beautiful equipment he could imagine. Tom wanted to spend days here, get lost in it.

“And, while most of our research is dedicated to Pandoran wildlife,” Doctor Andrews was saying,
“We are also working to improve growing conditions for Earth based crops here. Come, take a
look.”

He guided Tom to a large room filled with smaller cylindrical drums. There were more than Tom
could count.

“Now, typically many Earth based crops struggle to grow in the lighter gravity. But we’ve
managed to replicate Earth’s gravity in each one of these little micro-environments. Come, take a
look.”

He opened the door to one of the cylinders. Tom had to crouch to see inside of it.

“You see?” Doctor Andrews was saying, surrounded by purple flowers and lit by pink grow-lights.
“Perfect, despite the gravity concerns.”

Tom’s nose picked up on something. It was odd. With his new body, the scent was familiar, yet
also different. He reached out to pluck one of the flowers.
“Careful,” Andrews said. “Don’t walk in. Your new body might have difficulty with the gravity.”

Tom had no desire to walk into one of those regardless of gravity issues. Instead, he just reached
out a long arm, feeling for a moment like his fingers were moving through molasses. He plucked
the flower, and brought it to his nose.

“Is this saffron?” he asked curiously.

Andrews chuckled. “Well spotted! It is indeed!”

Long after they stood and moved to a different part of the lab, Tom twisted the flower in his
fingers, wondering.

Potatoes were one thing. Growing those off-world had been pretty much standard since the early
Mars missions. Rice made sense, lots of colonies grew rice. Onions, beans.

But saffron? Saffron was a luxury spice. It took a lot of room to grow for very little output. Why
bother with saffron?

These little oddities began to stick out to Tom more and more as Andrews took him around. He
noted the bio lab had excessively large viewing areas, almost more like a zoo than a laboratory.
They passed a space where supposedly a small museum would sit eventually, but it was expensive
to take things through space. Why would anyone waste money bringing Earth artifacts here?

“Doctor Andrews,” Tom said cautiously as they made their way through microbiology, “I can’t
help but notice this facility seems designed to house a much larger cadre than is currently present.
And some of the spaces here seem a bit…frivolous for a strictly scientific or extractive mission.”

The Doctor hummed, looking a bit sad. “Well, yes. While we are excited to get this place
humming, there is a rather significant tragedy behind it. I suppose it’s best you know now.”

Andrews ran a hand over his face, breathed out low. “The situation on Earth has deteriorated
significantly in the past 25 years. It’s become a necessity to establish a lifeboat.”
Tom's eyebrows hit his hairline. “A lifeboat? Are things on Earth really that bad?”

Andrews nodded. “It’s tragic, but yes, I’m afraid they are. We need someplace where humanity can
reestablish itself. Somewhere we can bring people, preserve our cultures, our science. Somewhere
to build a future.”

“And you think that place is Pandora,” Tom said slowly.

“Absolutely, Thomas, absolutely. This is the best place for humanity to start anew, revive itself.”

“But that doesn't make sense,” Tom blurted.

He cursed himself the second the words left his mouth. Typical Tom Sully behavior. Smart enough
to figure out something was off, not smart enough to keep quiet about it.

The man's eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

There were a million reasons it didn’t make sense, but Tom said only the most obvious reason
aloud. “I just mean that it’s logistically impossible for humanity to establish itself on a planet
where we can’t breathe the atmosphere.”

“Ah, of course. Well believe it or not, we have thought of that. We’re experimenting with some
terraforming solutions, with altering the makeup of the atmosphere.

Tom stared. He tried his best not to react too strongly. “Wouldn’t that…kill off the existing
wildlife?”

“Oh no, oh that is absolutely not the goal. It's minor terraforming. Our aim is not to change it that
much. Pandoran species and Earth ones can find a comfortable balance. You notice, for example,
that once you’re used to your new body, you’ll mostly be able to survive in an Earth-like
atmosphere, only needing to take occasional sips of your breathing mask.”

A flash of irritation cut through him that he couldn't quite bite down on. “But that won’t be
possible for most-”
“Ah! Dr. Pantev! Here’s one of our biologists now," Andrews was gesturing excitedly at a small,
withered looking man. "Here, tell Mr. Sully here about the successful terraforming tests you’ve
been running.”

The doctor in question cleared his throat. “We’ve had some great success balancing nitrogen and
oxygen that we think could benefit both humans and the local fauna.”

“There, you see!”

Tom looked at the other doctor. Tom had seen that look before; on grad students, on people
working for startups. It was the look of a man goosing the data, telling his boss exactly what he
wanted to hear.

God, would that have been his fate if he’d lived out his contract? Would he just have become a
pathetic yes man?

"So you see, you've been brought back for a purpose," Andrews was saying. "A noble purpose, the
most noble purpose. We are here to save humanity itself, to save our species from extinction, to
build a future for the next generation. And I, for one, am proud to have you be part of it."

Tom gave an answering smile. It felt too tight on his face.

A few hours later, Tom was led back to his room. He asked again to speak with the UN
representative, and was again brushed off.

At least they hadn’t strapped him down this time. That was a small mercy.

But he was still locked in.

Tom looked at the door and swallowed. Despite how artificially kind Andrews had been, it was
impossible to forget his conversation from yesterday. It was impossible to forget his status here.

And this mission he was assigned to, this supposed mission to make Pandora a new home for
humanity…it was absurd.

There was no way to find the balance they were looking for, no way to keep Earth and Pandoran
species both afloat. Small changes in the atmosphere could lead to ecological collapse. That was,
after all, exactly what had happened to Earth.

It was either a lie for the RDA to cover their ass with the public or a way to trick Tom into helping
them. Or both.

Tom turned on his side. This was a mess.

A thought cut through his mind. Maybe he could find a way to fix it. Maybe he could do some
good here.

Maybe he could endure the surveillance and the suspicion and living in the wrong body. Maybe he
could even forget how wrong he felt, how he was both alive and dead at once.

After all, it could be worth it. Anything would be worth it, to save humanity.

Tom thought of Jake. He’d probably moved back to Boston by now, was probably raising a whole
gaggle of kids. He’d always talked about that, had always been more interested in the idea of
family than Tom himself had.

If he squinted, Tom could picture Jake’s kids. Sandy red hair and dancing eyes, screaming and
laughing and getting under each other’s skin. Jake was probably taking them to Sox games and
basketball and the old Revere beach, just like grandma used to do with them.

Wouldn’t anything be worth it to save his brother? Save his family?

It was a tempting fantasy.

And yet nothing the RDA had told him made sense.

If they were genuinely looking for a terraforming candidate then Pandora was a terrible idea. It
was too far away to make the cost of transporting required materials worth it for any large scale
project.

And then there was the existing wildlife. Even if the RDA did intend massive die offs of local
flora and fauna, even if they were just trying not to tell him that to get him on board with the
project...the presence of existing life was still a hindrance to terraforming. There was no way to
predict how existing bacteria, for example, would react to the presence of new organisms.

It was very likely familiar plants and foodstuffs could be made toxic in new environments without
careful supervision. One of the other guys he’d been training with for the Avatar program had
actually co-authored a paper on that very subject specifically as it related to Pandoran / Terran food
hybrids. So there was no way they didn't know about that possibility. They'd had access to that
paper for the last 20 years.

Besides that, hadn’t Mars already begun their own terraforming project? It was big scientific news
when Tom was in his PhD program, poised to change the world and the way people thought about
planets. And while the last months of Tom’s real life were still a blur, he could have sworn he
attended some seminar or conference or party celebrating the melting of the Martian ice caps.

Yes, Mars was a 200 year project, but still. Putting everyone on Earth into enhanced cryo for the
next two centuries while waiting for that to complete was…well it’d be impossibly expensive and
even more impossible logistically, but it was still cheaper and more logistically sound than
shipping everyone 4 light years away.

Hell, he could think of a hundred things off the top of his head that made more sense. They could
start a project to terraform the Moon. The initial objections to that had been mostly political, but if
Earth was really in that much trouble, surely those political objections would disappear.

They could expand space station building. The colonies around the asteroid belt and Venus were
already nearly self-sufficient; it wouldn’t take much additional funding to bring them the full way.

Hell, there was even the famous argument for running terraform technology on Earth itself. It was
controversial, and the effects were not entirely predictable. But again, if Earth were really in as
much trouble as they claimed, then why not? Most scientific testing indicated that it could be a
temporary stop-gap to bring down carbon levels to a manageable level, and the time it bought
could be used to develop a more comprehensive plan.

And that was without even going into the truly wacky solutions. Like that insane Norwegian
scientist, the one who wanted to clone humans into tiny bodies to cut down on resource use. Even
his idea made more sense than Pandora. After all, Tom was now living proof you could clone a
consciousness. Why not try it?

Why not try any of the more sensible ideas, why not try to work with the nearby planets in the
solar system rather than moving everything 4 light years away?

Well, he could think of a few reasons. For one, the RDA didn’t have complete ownership interests
in Mars, or the Moon, or on Earth. Not like they did with Pandora.

But whatever, say he did take the RDA at their word. Say Pandora was truly the only option
remaining.

It still wouldn’t be ‘saving humanity.’ There was no way in hell that the RDA was planning to
bring billions and billions of people here. The cost would be astronomical, impossible.

No, the RDA would bring whoever paid top dollar for berths. Which meant the RDA was only
bringing the richest of the rich. Like there might be some laborers, some household staff, some
people to keep things humming along. But that would be it. If the Sully family wanted a way off
Earth, probably their only possible road would be as indentured servants for some billionaire.

And that was just an entirely different situation. Saving humanity was a cause worth dying for,
worth killing for. Saving the Branson heirs and Avona Vanderbilt and King George VIII…was
not.

Tom didn’t want to die for that cause, didn’t want to give any part of himself to it.

Because ultimately, it wasn’t even really about saving them. It was about making things easier for
them.
He suspected that was really the driving idea behind all this. Many of the other solutions, they
were hard. Would involve years of living in bunkers until terraforming finished, would involve not
seeing the sun for a long while, would involve backbreaking labor and investment and sweat. And
if Tom had learned anything from his years in the academic world, it was that people with money,
the people funding everything, they absolutely hated proposals that would take real work.

But this quick, minimal terraforming the RDA was promising? Well if it went as they planned
(which it wouldn’t, but that was beside the point) then it would be easy. The rich could just have
their mansions pre-built here, go into cryo for a couple years, and would wake up in paradise, some
servant ready nearby to hand them a cocktail.

A bunch of tourism companies had been trying to get their hooks into Pandora for years, and the
RDA had only managed to keep them at bay by claiming the planet was too valuable, needed to be
preserved for scientific and resource extraction.

Well, it looked like the RDA had finally decided to get into the space tourism game themselves.

The restaurants, the theater, the zoo. This settlement wasn’t a lifeboat, it was a resort.

It would make the RDA so much money.

And that wasn’t a cause worth lifting a finger for.

Tom turned again, scratchy green blanket twisting around his feet. He stared at the ceiling.

There was one thing he couldn't puzzle out. Why had they brought him back for this? He was
smart, sure. But he wasn't a genius, wasn't a truly great mind. He'd never done any groundbreaking
work. Hell, the work he had done in his very short career was all about preserving Pandoran
species, if anything he'd be a hindrance to their terraforming goal.

So why did they want him? Why had they gone to all this trouble?

He laid that whole night wakeful in the dark, trying to come up with an answer.
He didn't find one.
 Chapter 4

The next morning he wiped at his tired eyes. He needed to start getting sleep. Tom wasn’t certain
exactly how much rest Na’vi bodies needed, but presumably it was more than zero.

A lab tech Tom didn’t recognize came to fetch him, said he was wanted in one of the smaller bio
labs.

Tom again asked to speak to the UN representative. The tech said he’d see what he could do.

As he was led through the halls, Tom was once again flanked by two unobtrusive figures on either
side. Guards. They were definitely guards.

Eventually, they came to the room they were looking for. The guards opened the door and waited
for him to enter.

At least they didn’t follow him into the room. That was something.

A cheery woman about Tom’s age…well the age he perceived himself to be anyway…waved him
towards an examination table. He moved to hop up to sit on it before realizing that at his new
height, he didn’t need to.

“Hey!” she said. “I’m Doctor Franco, but you can just call me Poppy. You’re Tom, right?”

He nodded warily. “I suppose. As much as I can be, under the circumstances.”

She ignored that comment, enthusiasm never wavering. “It is so good to meet you, Dr. Sully. I
admit, I was so excited when Doctor Andrews told me he’d loan you out.”

Loan him out. Like he was a library book. “You wanted to take a look at the prize guinea pig,
huh?”

“I actually do research on the Na’Vi nervous system. There’s a paper of yours that provided a lot
of insight into my early research, and I very much wanted to discuss it with you.”

Tom paused for a moment, thinking. “Was it External Neural Pathways of Pandoran Wildlife and
Instantaneous Information Transfer ?”

The woman grinned. “That’s exactly it. The conclusions you draw in those final pages are
absolutely fascinating. Specifically the notions about utilizing similar neural pathways for other
types of information transfer.”

Despite himself, Tom bit down on a small smile. “I’m shocked you’ve read it, it was
embarrassingly basic. Neurology was never my primary field of study.”

“Well I mean, it’s difficult to study the wildlife of Pandora and not get a crash course in it.”

Tom laughed a little. “True. They’re all neurology.”

“Isn’t that the truth. But anyway, I was most intrigued by the last third, where you discuss potential
alternate use cases.”

Tom nodded. “Mimicking the neural whip in some sort of external device could open up new ways
of dealing with coma patients, getting insight into pain receptors-”

“You also mentioned something about using it to instantly pick up skills; languages, mathematics,
that kind of thing?”

Her smile was almost teasing, and Tom felt a bit sheepish. “Well that was pure speculation. I’d
watched that old movie about downloading Kung Fu one too many times maybe.”

She laughed a little. “Oh believe me, I’m familiar with catching inspiration from science fiction.
Could you take me through how you’d replicate the neural whip? I’d love to hear it straight from
you.”

“I’m mean if you’ve read the paper and this is your specialty, you probably know much more than
I can-”
“Please, indulge me.”

Tom nodded. “Sure, okay. Could you hand me a tablet, I need to create a model of a typical Na’Vi
queue we can use as a-”

“You have one on the back of your head.”

“Oh,” Tom said, more thrown than he’d like to admit. For a moment, he’d let himself forget his
current situation. “Of course.”

He reached over his shoulder and took hold of the long braid beginning at the nape of his neck.
He’d avoided thinking about this aspect of Na’Vi biology thus far. It made him supremely
uncomfortable having what was essentially a large part of his brain sitting outside of his skull.

Tom shook himself, and tried to get into his explanation. “Now, obviously, there are two key
portions here, the connective ends. The length in the middle is mostly junk biology. Well, not pure
junk, it’s not like our tonsils for instance. It does have a clear purpose in the wild; the length
provides space and distance for various organisms to connect to each other. But it’s not strictly
necessary, the same effect could be achieved with a much shorter length.”

Tom flipped the edge of his ponytail down revealing the curling pink neurons underneath. It was
strange, watching them curl on their own, hunting for a connection. He gestured towards the
neurons cautiously as he explained.

“So in Avatar bodies, the program was able to successfully mimic the neurons simply by cloning.
But the neurons found here are similar enough to ones found in the temporal lobe of the human
brain that combined cloning trending closer to human cells should be possible. I know traditional
means of neural information transfer are digital, not biological. That's how the consciousness
program in the Avatar program works. And I um,” Tom cleared his throat, “I also presume that’s
how my own…memory restoration was completed?”

Poppy nodded. “Yes, in cases like yours we use hard drives to store the consciousness until we
have a brain ready for implementation.”

Tom decided to skate by that existentially nightmarish piece of information. Later. He could focus
on the fact that his entire self was stored on some RDA hard drive and could be endlessly
replicated later.

“Anyway,” Tom continued, proud his voice didn’t sound too strangled, “This theoretical method of
information transfer would be more elastic than digital transfer. It wouldn’t require an empty host
brain, and in some cases wouldn’t even require sedation. Perhaps local anesthesia for skull drilling
for neural connection at the brain stem, but that should be all. If properly cloned, these neurons
should be able to connect directly to an active healthy human brain. Which could then, as I wrote
in the paper, offer more accurate readouts for medical professionals and give us a better sense of
how to repair traumatic brain injuries.”

He dropped his braid down to his lap. “Did I pass your test, professor?”

These last words were said a bit mockingly, but Poppy smiled. “You did. I admit, I asked partially
because I wanted to see how successful your consciousness transfer was. After all, I’d like a real
partner in this project, not some grunt that doesn’t understand the scope of what we're doing.”

She stood, walking towards a nearby closet, opening its door. “Now that I know you’ll fully
appreciate this, can I show you something?”

“Please,” Tom replied.

Poppy wheeled over a cart covered by a sheet. She removed it quickly, revealing a standard
computer screen connected to-

“Oh wow,” Tom said, feeling a little awed. “Oh wow, that is gorgeous. ”

And it was. The computer was connected to a replica of a Na’Vi queue, made of copper and
plastic. The idea he’d just been speaking of as purely theoretical was right there within reach. “Can
I touch it?”

She gestured towards it. “Go right ahead.”

He grabbed it eagerly, removing a clear plastic cap to uncover the neural connection. Cloned
neurons curled towards him, mimicking the actions of his own new neural whip.
It was impossible not to admire the work here, the craftsmanship. Fully realizing something that
had once only been an idea.

Tom noticed a slight sheen to the cloned neurons, a slight reflection on the light. He squinted a bit
and brought it closer, tilting his head to one side.

“Are these bioluminescent?”

“They are,” Poppy replied.

“And is that a holdover from Na’Vi cellular structure or-”

“No, this particular cart is not designed for use with humans in mind, it’s made to connect directly
to Na’Vi. Or Avatars more typically.”

Oh. That was somewhat disappointing, but understandable. “So this is a prototype then, proof of
concept?”

She didn’t answer, but he barely noticed, too busy staring at the movement of the exposed neurons.
He tore his eyes away for a moment to look at the other end of the machine, at the computer cart.
He gestured towards the screen. “I presume the screen would provide the medical readout?”

“No, actually. It’s running a basic information program. The aim is that the information in the
program would be uploaded into the mind.”

Tom’s breath stuttered. “Again, that part of my paper was pure speculative fantasy.”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t work.”

“We have no indication that the brain can receive digital-”

“Yes we do,” Poppy pressed. “You yourself are walking proof a brain can receive digital
information.”
“Yes but as I said, it’s not elastic. This brain was presumably completely empty of external
information when you shoved my consciousness into it. That’s how the Avatar program worked.
The brain needed to be empty of information for the digital transfer to take. This would just be
putting digital information into an active brain, potentially overriding what’s already there-”

“We don’t have proof of that.”

“We have proof that bond information transfers aren’t always safe,” Tom shot back. “Na’Vi youth
frequently have fatal brain hemorrhages when bonding with highly complex animals. That alone
suggests that incompatible information transfer into an active mind could be disastrous.”

“Well,” Poppy said. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”

Something snapped into place. Tom had gotten lost in this, in discussing the science, in feeling like
himself again. He’d forgotten his own situation.

“What do you mean?” he asked, dreading the answer.

Poppy gestured to the cart. “As I said, the program we’re running today is simple. If all goes well,
after connection the recipient should be able to recite Pi to 100 digits. The transfer should be
instant, and painless-”

“You’re planning to hook me up to that thing?”

She looked surprised. “Well, yes obviously.”

Tom swallowed. “No.”

“No, what?”

“No, I don’t want to do it. I decline to participate.”

“Dr. Sully, I’m afraid that’s not-”

“I woke up less than a week ago. There’s no way I’m healed enough to participate in testing like
this. It’d be like doing brain surgery on someone who just had a concussion.”

“Tom, I assure you that we’ve done the testing to ensure this will be safe.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Tom said, crossing his arms. “I still decline to participate.”

Poppy was looking irritated now. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“ I’m being unreasonable? It’s my brain! This could give me a hemorrhage, could make me
catatonic! I’m not taking that kind of risk!”

“I thought you were interested in the potential here.”

“Why are you even using me for this?” Tom asked, voice raising. “Yesterday I was told I was
brought back to help save humanity, how does this do that?”

“Well, we do all kinds of other research here. Cloning, life extension-”

“Great,” Tom said.. “Well, I don’t want to be part of it.”

“You’re being stupid,” Poppy said acidly. “I thought you were a scientist.”

“I’ve just gone through the indescribable experience of learning I died !” Tom yelled. “I died and
my consciousness was reconstructed from some dusty old files! Forgive me if I don’t want
anything else messing around in my head!”

Poppy’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Just, give it.”

She made a grab for his braid. Tom responded instantly, slapping her hand away, ears flattening
against his head, baring his teeth in an inhuman hiss.

She backed off, pale, looking afraid. She moved to the wall, clutching at some device there.

Tom closed his mouth, licking his lips. Where the hell had that response come from?

“Look,” he said, evenly as he could. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare y-”

The door burst open and guards flooded the room. Electricity sparked from somewhere, shuddered
through him, and Tom gasped, forced to his knees.

“Calm down,” someone was shouting. “Calm down!”

It was hard to be calm when everyone was shouting.

Someone pulled at his wrists, moving to cuff him. Tom found himself hissing again. Something
hard connected with the side of his face, stopping him. The electricity sparked once more, driving
pain to the bone.

He lost a little time after that. Next thing he knew, his arms were chained and he was being forced
to his feet, marched by more men than he could count in an unknown direction.

Well, he’d found the end of his leash. It was startlingly short.
 Chapter 5

They took him to a cell, some small glass thing in a larger concrete room. The moment the door
was shut behind Tom’s skin began to itch. The space was too tight, he hated tight spaces.

He began to pace the length of it, round and round, his tail whipping about back and forth, as
restless as the rest of him.

He couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep being led to and from and asked told to be a lab rat and
live without choices. He just couldn’t do it.

Tom felt his breaths coming quickly, struggled to slow them down.

Why did they need him? Why did they need him like this?

Was it for the neural research? It couldn’t be, Poppy had after all said he was being ‘loaned out.’

Was there something in his old notes, his old bio workups they needed? But then why hadn’t they
asked him any questions about that work? It must be related to that neurological work, it was the
only specific thing of his they’d asked him about.

But then why bring him back like this? Why in this body, if what they needed was his mind? Was
it just cheaper? Had they kept his old Avatar body frozen for 25 years, and had just thawed it out?

They kept telling him he would save the world but no one was telling him how.

It had to be the neurological testing. It had to be, nothing else made sense. Maybe they wanted a
scientist who understood the experiment to give a firsthand account, give greater depth to the
research. Poppy’s offhand ‘loaned out’ comment was likely just a bad joke, a subtle way to convey
she saw him more as a test subject than a person. God knows she didn’t see him as human.

He touched the side of his face and winced. They’d hit him hard. It would probably bruise.
He thought of dark purple splotches against blue skin and grimaced.

Well. He might not know much But there was one thing he was fairly certain of.

Whatever they needed from him, whatever function they needed him to perform…he couldn’t do it
sitting in this cell.

Which gave him some leverage at least, if only in non-compliance.

He needed to force a confrontation. He needed to push, get someone to say it, to plainly state what
exactly he’d been brought back for, why him, why in this body. He needed to get them to be at
least halfway honest. And then he could figure out where to go from there.

So he breathed out low, tried to acclimate himself to the size of the cell, not let it panic him.

The walls were not closing in on him, no fire was coming to claim him. It was just a room.

He sat himself down on the cold concrete and held himself calm.

And when a pair of guards came in, gesturing at him to get up and follow them, he was ready with
an answer.

“No.”

The guards just looked at each other. “Get up.”

“I’m not moving until I speak to someone in charge.”

“I need you to calm down.”

“I’m perfectly calm. I’m just not moving.”

“Do you want to be locked up in here?”

Tom lifted his head, meeting their eyes evenly. “I’m locked up everywhere I go. I’m locked into
my room, I’m locked into labs. At this point, location makes little difference. So I’m just going to
sit here, not doing whatever you want me to do, until someone is in front of me who can answer my
questions.”

“Get up or we’ll make you,”

He glared, drawing his legs in to sit cross legged. “Try.”

He was betting that the cell was too narrow for them to get a good grip around him, that this body
was too heavy to move without space to pull him up. Especially if they couldn’t grab him by the
ankles to drag him out.

When they simply stood glaring at him, he figured he’d been proven right.

“Fine,” one of them said. “Have it your way.”

As they shut the door behind them, Tom breathed out slowly. He hoped he hadn’t just made a very
stupid mistake.

He sat there for a couple hours, trying not to let panic fray at the edges of his thoughts. He tried to
distract himself. He drummed out piano concertos with his fingers, repeated old bits of poetry,
classed every Pandoran species he could remember by genus.

Occasionally he’d catch shadows of his reflection in the glass. He always flinched from it, eyes
skittering away. He wasn’t ready for that, wasn’t ready for the human self image he kept in his
head to be obliterated.
Finally, his ears picked up on the blissful sound of boots on concrete. He smoothed his strangely
long hair back and stood.

A woman in fatigues entered the room, flanked by the businessman and Doctor Andrews.

She was clearly military. He shifted a bit on his feet. He’d always been uncomfortable around
military people. He suddenly wished Jake was here to translate, make sense of things.

The woman looked at him impassively. “Thomas Sully? You were asking for a UN
representative?”

Tom nodded.

“Let’s make this quick, I have a packed agenda today.”

“Are you…are you the representative?” he asked, confused, looking at her fatigues.

“Due to ongoing conflicts, there is not currently anyone from the UN at this outpost. Someone will
be sent once the situation here stabilizes.”

He tilted his head. “But international law-”

“Mr. Sully, due to the open conflict we’re facing, the statute you’re clinging to does not apply. I’m
the highest authority on this moon, so please stop trying to speak to my manager and ask me what
you want to ask.”

That drew him up short. “Can I at least get your name?”

“No. Ask your question.”

Tom gulped and straightened up a bit. “I want to be cloned into a human body.”
The woman raised her eyebrows. “That’s a bold request. And not one you’re entitled to make.”

“I assume you put me in this because of cost concerns, or because you want my firsthand accounts
in neurological testing. But you don’t need my body, you need my mind. I will not take part in
dangerous neurological testing. I am still willing to lend my expertise, provided my demand is met.
Clone me into a human body, or I won’t help.”

The woman looked at him coldly. “You do realize that this cloned version of you would be a
different version of your brain. That you are essentially asking to die.”

“I’m asking to live in a version of my body that feels like my own.”

The woman squared her shoulders and considered him. “Ok. Request denied. Is there anything
else, or are we done here?”

Tom blinked. “Wait…you can’t just say-”

“Mr. Sully, there are much higher restrictions on human cloning than there are on cloning of other
organisms. I have no interest in challenging that just to appease you.”

“Then I won’t help you. Whatever you want me to do, I won’t do it.”

She looked at Tom as if he were the stupidest man who ever lived. “Mr. Sully, what exactly is it
you imagine we want you to do?”

He held his shoulders back, refusing to be intimidated. “I mean it’s a bit difficult to discern, since
no one will be honest with me. But based on this morning, I assume you want me to help develop
an organic method of neurological information transfer. Why, I don’t know. Maybe you want to
use mass cloning as a colonization path, maybe you want to help incoming ISV colonists better
understand the planet they’re moving to, maybe it’s some sort of frivolous recreational thing.
Whatever the reason, I won’t help you unless I’m put back into a body that feels more like my
own.”

There was silence for a long moment. “Well,” the woman said slowly. “That is a very interesting
theory. I can tell that brain of yours has been busy. Your request is still denied.”

“Then I won’t move,” he said sharply. “I won’t move one foot from this cell.”

She shrugged. “Fine by me.”

Tom froze. “What?”

The woman walked slowly towards the glass, “Mr. Sully-”

“It’s Dr. Sully, actually.”

She nearly laughed at that, huffing out a strangled little noise. “Okay then, doctor. First of all, what
you want is immaterial. Your body and mind are intellectual property of the RDA, and-”

“The DNA and brain scans might be RDA IP,” Tom cut in, proud he’d thought of this. “But I am
not. As a sentient being, I do have rights to self determination and a say over what happens to my
own body. Those laws were set down right after intelligent life was discovered on Pandora, it
should apply to me.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “You keep trying to lawyer your way out of this. If that’s how you
want to spend your time, fine, knock yourself out. It won’t change anything about your situation.”

“You can’t-”

“I am the lead officer on foreign soil during open conflict. I can do whatever I want, Sully,” she bit
back, her breath fogging on the glass. “You seem to be under the impression you have some
negotiating power here. You do not. And I will not stand for you throwing tantrums and wasting
RDA resources.”

Tom’s breath caught. “I won’t do your research. I won’t help you.”

“The research is a privilege. You should be happy to do it. I was against you participating, but I
was told,” here she turned to glare at Doctor Andrews, “I was told that it would be wasteful not to
use your mind. That given our limited personnel, it would be stupid not to use every scientist we
could get our hands on. That your insights could be an unexpected side benefit of this project.”

She turned back to the cell. “It’s becoming more and more clear that was a mistake. I don’t need
yet another insubordinate academic interfering with the mission.”

Tom searched the woman’s eyes, looking for something, any shred of truth, anything. “If you don’t
want me for my research, then what do you want? You went to all this trouble to raise a dead man,
you must have done that for a reason! You keep saying I’m supposed to help you, but you won’t
tell me how. How am I supposed to know what to do? ”

She did laugh now, snorting out an ugly sound that rang across the concrete. “ Do? Mr. Sully, I
don’t need you to do anything. You’re helping me just by sitting there.”

He searched for something, anything to say. “But-”

The woman pressed a button, and suddenly the glass wall was a mirror. The woman in fatigues
disappeared from sight, and all he could see was a massive Na’vi with his own face.

Tom flinched back. He screwed his eyes shut, sat back on the floor.

He put his head in his hands and tried not to cry, tried not to feel everything closing in.
 Chapter 6

They left him in that cell for a long time. Occasionally his ears would perk up at distant sounds,
hoping someone was coming to get him. But he heard no footsteps on concrete, no echoed voices.
He was completely alone here.

He’d overplayed his hand. Assumed they wanted him for his mind because, well, that’s what
everyone had always wanted Tom for. Since he was 10 years old and pulled out of public school,
put on the fast track because of his test scores.

He’d always been a little bit special, after that. Teacher’s pet, wanted by elite schools, scouted for
high value scientific programs. His mind was everything, it was who he was.

And now, somehow, that was gone. The respect, the prestige it had always bought him…that
meant nothing now.

He went over it all again, trying to find some answer, trying to think through everything the
military woman had said, had done.

I don’t need you to do anything.

They weren’t impressed by him. Didn’t even seem interested in him. Not at all.

It all kept coming back to his first theory, his coldest theory, the awful theory he’d spoken aloud to
the businessman a few days back.

Lab rat.

Which meant maybe…maybe he wasn’t the only one.

20 years had passed. Maybe Avatar cloning was easier now. Maybe the RDA was just cycling
through old files of old Avatar drivers, finding new uses for old data. Resurrecting them all to run
mazes and whatever.
Maybe there were a hundred other people trapped in Avatar bodies just like this, at various stages
of being broken, being made into ideal test subjects.

The air felt harsh in his lungs. He checked his breather. Readout was still green.

The size of the cell was getting to him. Partially because he was avoiding one full wall of it, trying
to cast his eyes away from his own reflection.

Tom tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. He should just get it over with. If this was going
to be his face for the foreseeable future, he should try to come to terms with it.

Plus, it would be a good distraction from the increasingly pinched size of the cell. Why not trade
one source of dread for another, right?

He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself, and turned to the mirror.

Tom forced himself to meet the yellow eyes steadily, to not recoil from the face that both was and
wasn’t his.

There were similarities, to be sure. Underneath the breather, his lips were mostly the same, and he
clung to that. His eyebrows. The shape of his cheekbones and chin.

The bridge of his nose was nearly the same too. But the strange flatness around the septum and
nostrils was not.

For a moment, he pulled the breathing mask down. Tom touched the tip of his nose, where blue
lighted a bit into an almost pink color. The texture was strange, nearly wet, like a dog’s nose. He
drew his hand back quickly, secured the mask on tightly.

His ears were too high. He flicked at one of them and it twitched, almost like a reflex, a shudder.

His dark hair hung in strings around his face, with the exception of the hair braided around the
neural whip on his back. That was standard, he knew that from his old training. A way to keep
people from accidentally brushing against the neural whip and hurting themselves.

He tried to brush the strings of his hair back, tuck it behind his ears. It seemed difficult with his
ears at this height. Maybe it was just the mask in the way, or maybe it was that he’d rarely worn
his hair long in the past. But still, it felt difficult.

Tom wondered if he could request a haircut, or if the RDA would also consider that too big an ask.

And then there was the strange blue striped skin. There were dots scattered around his nose, almost
like freckles. He knew in the dark these would be bioluminescent, but under the fluorescents they
just made him look pale and sick.

And he did look sick. There were heavy circles under his eyes, likely a symptom of the lack of
sleep. And his face was bruised, he could even see a little swelling around the jaw.

Strangely, these were as grounding as the familiar shape of his lips and eyebrows. After all, the
bruising and eye circles were directly related to his own experience, to things that had happened to
him.

Tom looked at the face in totality, trying to understand it as his. “I’m Thomas Sully,” he said to the
mirror.

He bit his lip and tried again. “I’m Doctor Thomas Sully,” he said, pasting on the smile he used to
use at college zoology conferences.

He caught a glimpse of oversharp canines. The smile dropped immediately.

He gulped, watching the adam’s apple in the mirror bob. Dissociation from the body was a danger
they talked about a lot in Avatar training. That was why, in the first few weeks especially, you
were not supposed to spend too much time in a body that wasn’t your own.

Well, Tom didn’t have that luxury. This was his face, now, and he had to get used to it.
His breaths were coming up short again. He needed to calm down, stop panicking.

Tom looked down at the breather. It was…off?

Why was it off?

He turned it over, flipped the power switch again and again and again. Nothing happened.

Tom began to truly panic now. He needed this to breathe, he wasn’t fully acclimated yet. He’d
need to take another sip of air soon. Why wasn’t this working?

A horrible thought occurred to him. Was it possible to shut down the breathers remotely?

No. No he wouldn’t think about that.

He used overlarge fingers to crack the damn thing open, to see if he could pick out something
physically wrong.

His breaths were coming faster. Damn it, panicking was not helping, it was getting harder and
harder to catch his breath.

Black spots began to dance at the edge of his vision.

No, no he could do this, he just had to cross these wires to get this working again, he just…

The world blurred and slipped from him, the breather tumbling from his hands.

Tom gasped back to consciousness. Someone was maneuvering his body, moving his arms up,
resting them on something cool.
Everything felt heavy, like a weighted blanket was being pressed down into his skin. Comfortable
at first and then…less so.

“Welcome back,” came an echoing voice. “You’ll be happy to know we’ve put a little Pandoran
atmosphere generator in your new accommodations. No more atmo issues for you.”

It was dark, wherever he was. Dark and, Tom shuddered to realize, enclosed.

“Gravity though,” the voice said mockingly, “Well that won’t fit you quite as well. I think
Andrews might have mentioned these, they’re each outfitted to be consistent with Earth gravity.”

Tom forced his eyes open, blinked the blurriness out of them.

"It’s a neat trick, great for growing food. Feels just right to me," the man was saying. "Like putting
on a pair of boots that fits. But for you...well the gravity might be a bit harder for you."

With a sinking stomach, Tom realized where he was.

He was in one of the little cylinders he’d seen with Doctor Andrews, the ones used for growing
Earth crops. It had been emptied out but for a pair of large hooks. Those hooks were being used to
hold his arms up, force him upright.

In a moment, they would shut the door, the only sliver of light, and they would leave him alone in
the dark.

“Wait,” Tom grasped, tongue struggling over the words. “You can’t. I’m claustrophobic, I have
a…”

“We know,” the man said blandly. “Thank you for volunteering that information, by the way. Very
helpful.”

Tom’s eyes darted around wildly, to the hooks holding his arms, already cutting into skin that felt
too heavy. “This…this is illegal,” he tried desperately, voice catching on weighted air. “Gravity
torture is illegal, it-”

“We’re facing an existential conflict. Everything is legal.”

He turned to leave, to shut the door.

“Wait, wait please!” Tom screamed out. “Please, I…you don’t need to do this, I’ll go back to my
cell, please.”

The man scoffed. “You chose this. When we brought you back, there were two paths laid out for
you. In one, you’d be part of the team, you’d play scientist, you’d follow orders, you’d help us as a
partner. But you decided you didn’t like that, so now we’re on the other path.”

“I...I can reconsider. We can talk about this, I'll help you."

The man turned away.

"Please," Tom begged. "Please don't, please!"

The iron door shut, and Tom was left in the dark.
 Chapter 7
Chapter Notes

Apologies to The Expanse for borrowing a torture method of theirs.

The dark was pressing in on him and it would squeeze Tom down into nothing.

Logically, he knew it was the gravity, the same gravity he’d felt his entire life, too heavy for this
new body. It pressed more, and more, and more with each passing second.

But it felt like the tunnel he’d been trapped in as a child, felt like smoke and flame shining in the
dark, getting stronger and stronger, so strong he could choke.

It was blurring his memory, his sense of time, making him go fuzzy at the edges. One moment, he
knew he was on the other side of the galaxy in an impossible situation. The next, he was 7 years
old again, listening to screams, scent of smoke strong on the air.

He tried to take himself out of it. Tried to drum Chopin on the wall behind him. Tried to remember
Shakespeare and Latin and all the useless things he’d learned at that stupid prep school.

That’s where it had all started. Where he and Jake first got separated from each other, began to look
at each other with something almost like suspicion. Where Tom had come to believe that Jake
didn’t care enough to try, and Jake had come to believe Tom didn’t give a shit about his brother.

That stupid school had led him here, had led him to Harvard and to his PhD and to the fucking
Avatar program.

The hooks were pressing into his armpits, gravity forcing them deeper deeper.

He wished he could go back to that day when the principal had called him in, when they had
looked at his test scores with pride and told him about his options. He wished he could go back to
that day and tell them all no.
Maybe he could. Maybe when he opened his eyes, when the darkness receded, he’d be back in that
room. And then he could leave, shred those test scores, live his life with Jake at his side, go to the
beach and get married and do all the things good people did.

A sound caught his ears and he felt them swivel, the sensation pulling him out of this dream.

No. He couldn’t go back. That boy was dead. Had died 20 years ago, for nothing.

God he wished Jake was here. He wished they’d never fought, wished he could see him one last
time, wished…

He’d been so stupid. So stupid to yell at Jake during their grandfather’s funeral. Jake had just
wanted to do right by grandpa, Tom should never have begrudged him that. He hadn't even been
mad at Jake, not really, just freaked out and worried and pissed about grandpa's death. But Tom
had said it all anyway and now it was done, was forever.

Jake had wanted to be a pallbearer. Had been willing to spend a quarter year's pay to rent an
exoskeleton for his legs, just for the day. So he could walk into the funeral and carry grandpa’s
body out.

But Tom had thought it was a waste of his money, had gone on at him about how he didn’t want to
heal, didn’t want to go to physical therapy, just wanted to get trashed in his shitty apartment and
feel sorry for himself. And Jake had bit back it was his own money, why did Tom even care, he
had no way of knowing what it felt like.

“No, I don’t,” Tom had snarled. “Because I wasn’t stupid enough to get my legs blown off fighting
for a bunch of corporate fascists.”

And Jake’s nostrils had flared, and he’d stared up dead into Tom’s eyes, and he’d said, “You think
you’re better than me? You’d sell your soul to Satan if he promised you the slightest bit of help in
your career.”

Tom found himself laughing, wheezing, gravity pressing into his lungs. Because Jake had been
right. Tom had sold his soul. He’d given his brain scans to the RDA to do with as they pleased, and
now he was in hell, in hell.
He was stupid. He’d been so fucking stupid and now he’d never see Jake again, never be able to
take it all back.

They’d barely looked at each other during the funeral. They’d sung an old song together at the
service, because that had been important to grandpa. But they hadn’t looked at each other, hadn’t
talked after the service, hadn’t spoken in the full year of life the real Tom had lived after that. That
stupid song had been the last time he’d heard his brother’s voice.

Tom coughed, and something wet his lips. It tasted like blood.

And then he was a child, and could hear the train coming. He would die here, die in the dark with
smoke and fire. He could hear the screeching of old trains, the screams of panicked voices.

No. No, that wasn’t where he was. He was…where was he?

The sound of a great metal door opening rang through his ears. A sliver of light poured in.

Bodies were pulling him from the hooks, a small penlight seemed to be examining his pupils. He
couldn’t focus on any of it.

There were voices, too many voices, voices asking him questions, and it was hard to focus on
them, hard to figure out what they were saying. They were arguing with each other, maybe.

A finger jabbed him in the chest, cutting through the cacophony. “Do you know who you are?”

He closed his eyes. “Tom Sully,” he wheezed out.

“And do you know where you are?”

He forced himself to focus. “Pandora, with the RDA.”

That seemed to meet with approval. “Yeah, he’s ready for his closeup,” he thought he heard.

"You think he looks rough enough for camera?"

"It'll do the trick."

His body was guided through hallways. Tom let them push him, feeling listless, half blind, unsure
of what was happening around him, unsure if he was even awake.

He was pushed into a chair. And now there were screens around him, recordings, more voices,
coming from everywhere.

And there was one voice that was…was…

It was garbled, as if coming from a radio, or an old comm. And it was strangely accented, an
accent he couldn’t quite place.

But there was a familiar quality to it, to the timber of the vowels, the abruptness of the consonants.
It was a voice he’d heard grow and change through thousands of days over a lifetime, a voice
nearly familiar as his own.

“Jake?”

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