With a blink, you were here. The room was small and filled to the brim with barrels, crates, and lockers. One of the crates had crashed over and spilled its contents of dehydrated food packets all over the floor. Many of the barrels were on their side and the crates and walls looked banged up. As you took a step you stumbled; the floor was at a tilt. Readjusting to the inclination you headed towards the sole door at the front of the storage room. The doors opened automatically for you.

The hallway was sterile. The walls were perfect white plastic, the floor faux-tiled and the roof metal grating with hanging lights. This wasn’t a building; this was a ship. Opposite the door you exited from was another door, this one did not open for you. To your left there was a sign indicating the main deck, and on the right a sign for the laboratory. With little knowledge you turned left. With each step your footfall echoed in the perfect silence. Near the end of the hallway, you noticed the first imperfections on the plastic walls. The walls were covered in singed marks and holes as well as deep scratches. One of the cords hanging up a light had severed – the light dropped down and turned off. On your right side there was another room with a sign that read, ‘Break Room’, and in front of you was a silver door. There was a key card reader to the side, but you did not have a keycard. The door to the break room was ajar.

Tracing your finger along the scratches in the wall, you inched your way towards the break room. You peered in to find a man laying face down on the floor. Your heart leaped into your throat as you stumbled backwards. He looked injured. You focused on steadying your breathing. Question after question ran through your head, but every answer was another unknown. You tried to make yourself ready to step back in. With your heart still beating out of your chest, you forced yourself back towards the door. You bumped it open with your foot. As it glided open, you took in the room.

It looked like a regular break room. There was a sink, a fridge, a coffee machine, and a table. The table was flipped over and the chairs were thrown to the side, one of their legs having been torn off. There were broken mugs on the ground and a large gouge through the farthest wall. There were splatters of blood on all surfaces, and a large pool was coalescing under the man. He was wearing a lab coat, and his back was torn up. He had three scratches that reached deep under his skin, and large circular stab wounds. You didn’t have to check his pulse to know he was dead, and you didn’t need to check his wounds to know he was killed recently.

You felt sick and doubled over. You held your mouth trying not to throw up. The door slammed as you yanked it open and fled, but you instantly regretted it. As you ran down the corridor you couldn’t help but ask yourself what did that to him.

Who else is here?

More than cognizant of the noise from your running and deep breathing you felt your panic begin to rise. You slowed to a walk, your head spinning. You glanced behind you. Nothing but hallway. You kept walking until you got to the laboratory.

Ahead of you was a set of automatic double doors. One of the doors had been knocked off its rails and thrown to the ground. The other was shifting from open to close. You stepped over the broken door and noted more scratch marks. You were in an air lock. In front of you was a massive vault-like door that led to the laboratory. The top metal had been bent over and a gap had been created. The gap looked large enough for a human to squeeze through, but it was too high up to reach. It dawned on you that these vault doors weren’t to keep people out, but to keep whatever was inside in. Only when you took a step back did you notice a glass tablet tossed on the ground. You picked it up and examined it. It was rectangular and see through, and one side has a white plastic handle with a button. You pressed the button and the screen on the glass turned on, illuminating your face.

Lab Log #5:

Ides of October, year 2263

HMS Genesis - CENSORED Branch

Dr. David Johnson, ID #41029382

They say that when life gives you lemons, you’re supposed to make lemonade. Unfortunately, we have not had success working out some of the issues. When designing the subjects we picked and chose our traits and removed those considered unnecessary. The incomplete list includes boredom, claustrophobia, libido, and most emotion.

We were unsuccessful, as the subjects are observed acting agitated, especially during feeding.

One thing has been constant during all our tests, they continue to attempt to speak. We have yet to figure out what they’re trying to say, and hopefully in our next edition we will reintroduce the speech gene. Perhaps I’ll ask the techs to add some more parrot. Luckily, the subjects remain placid, and theoretically happy.

Signed, supervisor, Dr. Dave Johnson

You noticed, attached to the back of the log, a key card. Reluctantly retracing your steps, you returned to the silver door and successfully buzzed in. You stepped into the bridge of the spaceship. The bridge was a large area with stepped desks, at capacity fitting around ten deckhands and a captain. At the front of the deck was a large monitor set up with a control panel. No matter what button you pressed, there was no response on the panel. Nonetheless, the display was still on. It was open to the last report: Ship has crash landed…, planet Matratheo 7 …, no SOS signal…, Planet quarantined…, DO NOT SEND HELP …, No onboard human presence…, Ship engine disabled. As you read each word the situation began to sink in. Desperately you scrolled down on the console and got to another log.

Lab Log #6:

7 days before the Kalends of November, year 2263

HMS Genesis - Environment Branch

Dr. Connor Greeman, ID #44258102

Looks like experiment Eden is over. Late last night one of the lab technicians was doing evening measurements and feedings and got too comfortable. He was injured by subject #1 and sent to the infirmary. From my medical report: "Patient’s hand has suffered major puncture. The hole goes through the palm and out through the back of the hand." The hands of the subjects are long, and the nails sharp which caused the injury. I would posit the cause being due to an overabundance of predator genes, but I am no gene scientist. All I know is that they’re dangerous, and the board back on Earth agrees. We have official orders to terminate the three subjects and to halt work on Generation XIV.

As for my project, I still have the go ahead. From my research, the ecological harm the subjects could impose is truly great. If they can reproduce, they surely could overpower all local fauna. From simulations, they would have no natural predators, and from gene editing done to reduce their food intake, they wouldn’t need much to survive. In all ways, unintentionally we have created the ultimate invasive species. The ultimate bio hazard. They cannot be allowed to be let lose. I cannot let nature die in the face of science.

That being said, I have overheard conversations from Dr. Johnson. He wants to keep them alive but sedated. Let us all pray he pulls the plug before it is too late.

Signed, physician, Dr. Connor Greeman

Just then, you heard a sound. You swiveled your head but saw nothing. The deck was not well lit, and your eyes scanned the room for the source of the disturbance, unable to quell the unease in your stomach. Against better judgment you took a few paces forward. You noticed something move out of the corner of your eye. The back of the deck led to two hallways, one was the way you came, the other was towards the offices and sleeping quarters, a sign read. In that hallway the lights were out. Focusing your eyes in the dark, you tried to get a better look down the hallway. Just then you heard a low growl. Freezing dead, you noticed a humanoid figure a way into the dark. As eye contact was made it stood to full height.

You could make out its silhouette. It looked hairless and naked, its limbs were emaciated and long. The eyes were larger than a human’s and a ghostly red that almost glittered in the darkness like a ruby cat. The creature walked in a slink with its arms out in front of it like a gorilla. It tilted its head and took a step towards you as you slowly backed up. Its head emerged from the darkness and something from the core of your humanity screamed. Its face was wrong, its forehead too small, its eyes too large, its nostrils flared and the lips too long. The gray skin was pulled over the hard bone. The lips parted to reveal a thick set of gums with thin teeth.

By pure instinct you turned and ran, but you noticed another like it in the hallway you came from. You were trapped. The two humanoids approached you slowly, like a cat stalking its prey, but also like a scientist studying a specimen. Your eyes darted around the room in search of any escape, like a trapped animal you felt the panic building. You know the damage these things could inflict… Just then, you noticed it. At the back of the deck just reachable on the roof was an air vent, just large enough. You dashed towards it, leaping over the desks and chairs as the subjects hunted after you. You ripped open the vent cover and pulled yourself in.

The inside of the vent was pitch black and moving filled your nose and lungs with dust. You scuffled along, your body pressed against all four sides of the venting. Scrambling as fast as you could, your knees banged against the bottom, your back scratched against the roof. You could feel sweat drip off your body, and you heard the cacophony of metal banging behind you as the creatures climbed into the vents after you. The vents curved and you took right after left in random search without a thought but to distance yourself. A glimmer of light jumped out right below you before the vent gives out. The vent cover you crawled over smashed open, and you tumbled out onto the floor.

With a cough you cleared your lungs and throat and stumbled upright, fighting a growing headache. You were still functioning, and the metal banging had let up. The room you found yourself in was lit was filled with turned off computer monitors and lockers. The locker doors were all open and the insides ransacked. You peaked into each of the lockers, most contained security officer outfits, and all their holsters were empty except one. You picked up the laser blaster and checked the charge; only a single shot was left. You made your way over to the desk. Atop it was another glass log.

Security Log #5:

1 day before the Kalends of November, year 2263

HMS Genesis - Security Branch

Bernard Taylor, ID #35272040

Security is at an all-time high. There are arguments among the scientists that we are not privy to hear, but I can hear the yelling - mostly Dr. Johnson. I fear we may have to step in. The security officers are nervous, some say that violence is going to break out. Needless to say, we did not expect this. I always thought we were giving security to the scientists from outside threats, but it looks like our job may be to protect the scientists from each other.

I sent out a standing order to keep a close eye on Dr. Johnson. Something recent seems to have made him quite upset, and he has been acting irrationally. If need be, we may have to have a talk with him about appropriate workplace conduct.

We will continue to be wary about potential threats. If anything is going on, then we should know. At least, that’s my opinion.

Signed, security officer, Bernard Callahan

After reading the log you noticed and pressed the power button. The screen lit up with security camera feed. You saw the main deck, the storage room, the engine room, then black screens from the offices. A pop-up alert appeared on one of the lower monitors. You couldn’t read the text, but it illustrated a button on the console. You hesitated but pressed the button.

The lights in the security room and on the cameras dimmed, then the lights sequentially lit up in the offices and the sleeping quarters. Scattered along the hallways were the corpses of scientists, security officers and others. At the end of the offices was a second entrance to the laboratory.

Before you could examine further, you heard loud banging on the door closest to you. Fear shot up your body as you looked for the closest entrance. You rushed to the further door and slammed your body against it. It didn’t budge. You ripped open the lock and threw open the door. In front of you was the door to the storage room. Both sides looked clear. The banging sound behind you only rose.

You ran down the corridor towards the main deck. Rushing past the desks you ran down the lit hallway to the sleeping chambers. You stepped over a few corpses along the way, all featuring the same distinct deep scratches. On one of the bodies, you noticed another log.

Lab Log #2:

5 days before the Nones of October, year 2263

HMS Genesis - CENSORED Branch

Dr. Bachmann, ID #43172592

Thus concludes the first week of the Eden experiment. The subjects have been doing well. Feeding by mouth has continued to have difficulties, it seems something has gone wrong in their genetic code. Sustenance by syringe works, but other methods are preferable. Other than those troubles, work has been without hitch. Our measurements have all been within the safety factor, even the aggression factor. This gives us great hope for the long-term effects, as their recorded performance is measurably better than non-edited human astronauts.

As stated, our microgravity tests are very promising. During deep space trials, bi-original humans have observed blood clots, muscle dystrophy, radiation sickness, and even blindness; all symptoms our subjects have yet to have. Our editing looks to have worked; all we need to do now is to work out the… issues.

Signed, head scientist of project Eden, Dr. Bachmann

Having made your way past the sleeping quarters you had reached the offices of the scientists and project leads. You popped your head in a few of the offices, but most of them had nothing of use. Most of the offices were trashed from fighting, and you didn’t have time to check each computer for answers. When you reached the door to the laboratory you attempted to key in, but it didn’t work. You cursed under your breath. Retracing your steps, you stopped at the biggest office. You opened the door and walked in. Sitting on his chair, slumped over desk was a dead scientist. He had a large stab wound in his neck. You grimaced, then approached. Hanging from his belt was a key card that you grabbed, as well as another log from his desk.

Lab Log #9:

4 days before the Nones of November, year 2263

HMS Genesis - CENSORED Branch

Dr. Bachmann, ID #43172592

They escaped. All three. The first cage looks unlocked, the others forced open. Maybe we underestimated their intelligence, they are human after all. Or perhaps Dr. Johnson finally went insane and let them out. Who knows, it doesn’t matter now.

Promptly after, security went into overdrive. Dr. Johnson tried talking to them, but that’s all I know, I wasn’t there at the time. I think Johnson threatened them, he must have done something to deserve being shot. Or maybe not. Who knows? Either way, if he let them out or didn’t, he paid the price.

We’re all holed up in the canteen. The doors are blocked, and we raided the armory for laser blasters. People are worried about the vents, but there’s no way the creatures can fit through those. Either way we’re going to stay here until the ship lands and hope we can make it out. We’re all scared, but we’re hopeful. I plan to return to my office to grab my key card to the lab. Our Plan B may have to be our Plan A.

Signed, head scientist of project Eden, Dave, Dr. Bachmann

Your heart skipped on the word plan. Is there a way out? Whatever the answer, you knew you must get to the lab. Hands shaking, you keyed into the lab. Light green. You pushed the vault like door open before you felt a pair of eyes on the back of your head. You slowly turned to look behind you. Three of them. Without a second passing you dashed into the lab and slammed the vault door closed. The lock bolts clicked a second before a roar of banging started on the door. The whole door was shaking on the hinges.

Scouring the lab you noticed all the equipment. There were three empty cages, operating tables, equipment racks with syringes, liquids, and medicines. On the side of the lab closest to you was a laptop and a large rectangular metal frame with a circular platform at the base. There were foot thick cables running out of the back into the wall. It all looked very complicated.

The banging was ceaseless and without a moment of hesitation you rushed to the desk. Whatever Plan B was, there should be evidence… there had to be. You rushed to the operating tables, but there was nothing there. Turning to the cages, you spotted it. Thrown to the ground beside the first cage was a blood-stained lab log.

Lab Log #12:

Ides of November, year 2263

HMS Genesis - CENSORED Branch

Dr. Glen Edward, ID #43328794

We must have hit something because the ship jolted. Dr. Bachmann went to his office but never returned, soon after we were attacked. I managed to hole myself up in the lab, and I fear that I’m the only person left alive. If you anyone finds this log, let Earth know what happened here. The creatures can smell me, I know it. It’s only a matter of time until they get me.

I’ve been trying to get a signal from Earth, but communication must have seized when we crashed. It seems there’s only one way out, but it’s dangerous. In the lab we have a teleporter, it’s powerful and has enough charge to take me back to Earth, but I worry that if I teleport, these creatures will follow me out. I have a difficult decision ahead of me, but I think I know what to do. So I leave this log just in case anyone finds this ship. Please, tell Earth what happened.

Signed, last survivor(?) of project, Dr Glen Edward

The banging on the door reached a climax, and the whole door shuddered as a large thin arm ripped through the metal. Five other limbs reached out through the hole and began to tear into the door. The hole widened quickly as you rushed towards the laptop. You slammed the power key and booted in. Already up was the software for the teleporter, target selected: EARTH. Beside you the metal frame came to life and began to hum. You stepped up onto the platform as the vault door burst open. Your hand reached for the blaster with one shot. Did you press the button and teleport to earth? Did you shoot a creature? Did you shoot the teleporter?

The professor removed the headset from Smith’s forehead. He frowned and rubbed his head.

"How was the experience, Smith?" An assistant offered him a water bottle.

"What happened? Where am I? What year is it? What did I… what did I choose?"

The professor frowned. She made a note.

"Drink some water. One of the symptoms is mild discombobulation. You’re at the University of ML/AI in Boston. It’s still the year 2054. Please, take as much time as you need. I’m going to provide you with part B of the experiment so you may complete it when you feel ready."

"Thank you," Smith muttered feeling a little silly. The professor and assistant stepped out to talk. He glanced at the packet the assistant handed him. The first half was a news article and the second was a questionnaire. Smith scanned the title of the article, "Genetic Engineering breakthrough paves way for Deep Space Exploration in new research presented by team of researchers at the University of Genetics in Florida." He flipped the packet over and read the questions, "How does this article make you feel? What did you notice when reading? What are the benefits of this research, what are the possible downsides?" He stopped reading.

Driving home, something tugged at Smith. He parked his car and walked up the steps to his apartment. Once inside he looked at the pamphlet on his kitchen table. The bold title jumped out at him like it did when he first signed up, but something felt quite different about it now. "Participants needed for experiment on media literacy and artificial intelligence." He picked it up. "Participants will be shown a tailor-made feed from our new AI designed to increase media literacy and understanding. Takes 1 hour, 170$ reward." He threw the pamphlet in the trash.