Read Human Again: A Dystopian Sci-Fi Novel (Cryonemesis Book 1) for Free Online

officer in the nearby air force base.
    “Hi mom, what's up?” I put her on speaker and tried to be as calm as I could, knowing it’s not a good time to stress her with thoughts about war.
    “Hi, where are you? They're calling everyone in, did they call you?”
    “Yeah, I'm on my way to dad, he'll take me to Tel Aviv.”
    “Listen, I hear that this time it's going to be big. I can't talk on the phone but there's more action than usual.”
    “I know, we can't sit quiet after two kidnappings in two weeks.”
    “Right, don't be a hero, ok? Be safe.”
    “I will,” I said, realizing that that is the exact opposite of what I was expected to do. My unit mates were the heroes; we were the stuff you see in movies. Go in, do the job, get out; clean and silent. Nobody knew we were there. Invisible.
    “I got to go hon, talk to me when you can.”
    She hung up. I didn't tell her I loved her, nor even thanked her, and didn't even say goodbye. She was called on a job, and I also had a job to do. I didn't think about death in those moments. I was filled with a mixture of adrenaline and fear. This was the real deal, the stuff I was training for, for almost two years. I hate to say that but I was somehow excited that shit was going down and I would get some real serious action. I believed it was going to be the same as all the small operations and surveillance hideouts that we used to do. Maybe even slightly bigger and more important. We might even find our soldiers alive, although we rarely do.
    I was wrong of course. I went home, showered in like two minutes. Put on my uniform and picked up my M-16 and my army duffle bag and drove to pick up my dad. He waited for me outside the main gate. I let him drive because I was too nervous to drive any more than I had to. He was wearing his overused checkered blue shirt and had his reading glasses in the front pocket of the shirt. He wore green Crocs sandals. He usually didn't talk much but I could see he was uneasy. We started driving to Tel Aviv where I was supposed to get on a bus that would take me to the base next to the Lebanon border.
    “Did you call mom? She’s worried.”
    “Yeah I did but she had to go. Everyone is preparing.”
    “This time it’s the real deal.”
    “I know.” We were so used to having small incidents we didn’t think of them as real.
    We kept in silence for a few minutes until we got on the highway. I didn't know what to say that wouldn’t sound too dramatic or too scared. He turned on the radio. The news said that the Air Force had started to attack in Lebanon, and that Hezbollah was firing rockets at northern cities. Then he turned the volume down and started talking after a long sigh.
    “When will people stop fighting over imaginary inventions like borders and nations, and start fighting for the actual development of the world?” He asked.
    My dad was a soldier like the rest of the Israeli men and women, and wasn’t a pacifist. He even fought in the first Lebanon war of 1982. But ever since he got into studying genes he had changed. He always reminded us about how tiny and insignificant our daily lives were in comparison to the potential of our evolution, and how we should appreciate our lives more.
    “Maybe one day you can remove the fighting gene from people,” I said.
    “The potential to fight is in our genes but the implication is strictly in the mind. And that is the hardest part to change.”
    “I am sure you will find the way if you look for it.”
    “That’s not what our funds are for but that's actually an interesting idea.”
    “Right, I forgot that prolonging the life of rich people is more important because they can pay for it.”
    He laughed.
    “It’s not only for rich people; in the short-term maybe, but not in the long-term. Like any invention, it was expensive in the first days, before it became a mass product. Only kings had toilets once. You're a king now.
    I laughed; it was a tiny release from the stress that started to