Tier Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Cindy Gunderson

  I steel myself and open the door.

  “Eric,” she says in a rush, gripping my arms and pulling me to her. “I was so worried.” Scanning my face, her expression changes from relief to concern. “Maybe I still am worried,” she admits. “You look awful.”

  I laugh at the brutal honesty. “Val, I don’t—so much has—I don’t know where to start,” I stammer, whether out of nervousness or exhaustion, I can’t tell.

  “Can I come in?” she asks, and I motion for her to enter. Noticing for the first time the bag of portions on the counter, I quickly begin to unload while she takes a seat.

  “Ugh. It stinks in here. Can I open a window?”

  I nod, laughing.

  “Please tell me what’s going on.” she pleads as she pulls the pane open. “I haven’t heard from you and you haven’t been in the fields. I asked Kip what was going on, and he claimed you were sick, but I haven’t ever seen you take a sick day. It seemed off. I probably shouldn’t have come over here unannounced—”

  I pull her into a hug, cutting her off. “It’s okay, Val. I am so grateful that you care.” Rubbing her shoulder, we move in tandem to the kitchen chairs. Tal joins us, sitting across from Val and she smiles.

  “Val, Kate’s alive,” I say and her eyes widen. “Tal and I—a friend we know from Tier 1, he...ambushed us today—”

  “In a good way, kind of scary. But good,” Tal interjects. Val’s eyes dart from me to him and back.

  “He took us to a rehabilitation center and treated us. I don’t know how he did it, but he reversed some adjustments that had been made without our knowledge,” I explain.

  “What kind of adjustments?” she asks in confusion.

  “Memories that were taken or altered. Tal and I—we aren’t from here. We are Tier 1, but they needed to keep us hidden after—well, after they decided to take Kate.”

  “They took her? Why would they do that? And how?” she asks, her eyes wide.

  “It’s a long story,” I start.

  “I’ve got time,” she says, leaning back and crossing her arms across her chest.

  “So...you have this whole other life,” Val says when I finish.

  I nod.

  “Had,” Tal says. “It’s gone now.”

  “Tal—”

  “No, Dad. What are we supposed to do with this information? We can’t tell anyone, they’ll assume we’re crazy. And we have no way to find out where Mom is. Or Bentley.”

  “I know we don’t, but don’t you think Nick has something up his sleeve?” I ask. “He made it here to us, he must be figuring it out.”

  “That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in the man who paired with Mom,” he teases.

  “Wait, Nick was the one who gave you your memories back?” Val says. “Why would he do that?”

  I exhale audibly. “I don’t know. I woke up here and didn’t have a chance to ask. And Tal, please don’t use that tone. Nick is obviously trying to help—”

  “Or make us more miserable,” Tal says.

  “Don’t take your hurt out on him,” I say gently and see Tal’s eyes gloss over. “I am terrified, too. I don’t know what to do, but we will figure something out. That’s what we do.”

  “I can help,” Val announces. “I have some clearance in Tier 1. I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to find anything, but I can at least try.”

  “Val, you don’t have—”

  “I want to, Eric. This isn’t right.”

  “But it really might be,” I argue. “We are in this situation because I was selfish. This research—this pairing—was necessary and I blew it.”

  “I disagree,” Tal pipes in. “If you’re right and Nick is trying to help, there has to be something going on in Tier 1. Something that would make him second guess the decisions he made.”

  Pondering this, I stand to stretch my legs. “It’s possible,” I admit. “Though I can’t imagine what that would be.”

  “Let me look into it,” Val says. “I can send you a message by tomorrow night if all goes well.” She stands abruptly and walks toward the door.

  “Val,” I say, following her. Lowering my voice, I whisper, “I’m so sorry. You mean so much—”

  “It’s ok, Eric—”

  “No, it’s not. I know what it feels like to be replaced.”

  She nods. “I care about you. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t wish things were different, but caring for someone doesn’t mean that you only ‘care’ when life goes your way. I’ll check into this and let you know,” she says hurriedly, throwing her hair over her shoulder and turning before I can stop her.

  “Hey, Eric, what are you doing here?” Matt asks, looking me over disapprovingly. “Are you okay?” he asks, stepping out onto the path.

  “Are you free for a walk?” I ask.

  “Sure, I guess,” he answers, his eyebrows furrowed. “Just let me turn off the stove.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt, if you’re cooking—”

  “No, it’s fine, just a second,” he assures me, retreating back inside. Maybe this was a bad idea, I think, rocking on my heels. With all of this bouncing around in my head, a disturbing thought occurred to me. Matt has been my mentor since I was a kid. He’s been involved in my life every step of the way. Does he know? Was he a part of this, or did they take his memories away, too?”

  “What are you cooking?” I ask, smelling herbs. “And how do you have basil this time of year?”

  Matt laughs. “I dried some when it was harvested a few months ago.”

  “Smart.”

  “Where do you want to walk?” he asks, following me away from his unit.

  “Doesn’t matter to me. This way?” I point and he nods. “I just wanted to talk and it’s easier for me to do that when I am moving.”

  “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you, Eric. You haven’t answered me in days.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” I answer. “Some things came up this week and I haven’t really been myself.” We turn the corner and cross onto a path that leads through a small park behind the distribution center.

  “How are things going with Val?”

  “Well,” I answer. “We are good friends, I think.”

  Matt smiles. “Nothing more than that?” he teases, nudging my arm.

  “Matt, what do you think about the Tier system?” I ask, and he stops walking abruptly. Turning, I face him.

  “What are you talking about?” Matt asks.

  “I’ve just been thinking a lot about it. Some friends at work have been talking about their dissatisfaction with life around here.”

  “Really? Huh. I don’t know how to answer that. I guess I haven’t thought about it,” he says, walking again.

  “They talk about wanting opportunity. Have you ever tried to qualify for Tier 1? It seems like you have the numbers to make it happen,” I say. “No trauma like I have to hold you back.”

  “I think I could be close,” he answers, “but I’m happy here. I don’t feel the need to take on more responsibility.”

  “You’ve never wanted to have more variety in life? More opportunities for growth?”

  “No, I guess not,” he says shaking his head.

  I change the subject to his service assignment. I’ve gotten what I came for. There’s no way Matt grew up Tier 2. Completely satisfied with life? Never wondering if there is something better? That sounds like the only other Tier 1 person I know here. Me.

  Arriving back in front of his unit, I thank him as he walks toward his door. “Hey Matt, do you really think I should move forward with Val?”

  He shields his eyes from the sun, squinting. “What have you got to lose?” He slowly turns and walks through the door, closing it behind him.

  Heading home, my mind spins with new information. If Matt is Tier 1, has he been put here to basically babysit me? Help me transition? He is obviously receiving special treatment. That did not smell like dried basil. I nearly laugh out loud at the ridiculousness
of making an assumption about Matt based on herb possession, and yet in my mind, it stands. It doesn’t prove whether he has been involved in any of this, but it definitely makes me suspicious.

  Shaking my head, I chastise myself. He would have only been doing what was asked of him, as everyone does. There is no fault in that. Somehow, I am still not convinced that I understand what is going on. Though I remember the order of events, I still can’t settle on whether I acted appropriately or not. One thing has been cleared up for me definitively, though: Tal is, and always has been, destined for more. I have to find a way to make it up to him.

  88 Nick

  As promised, the presentation is loaded and ready to go in the auditorium when I arrive. Tamara might be the person I feel most guilty about reversing. Though, I only took away information regarding the trials, leaving everything personal intact. Still. She has contributed immensely to our success and now she won’t be able to take credit for it.

  I am shocked by the number of people already here, milling around, or already planted in their seats. The Director promised a regional audience, but this can’t possibly represent only our region. Unless other community members have also been invited?

  “Are you ready?” I hear a woman say behind me, and I spin around.

  “Oh, hey, Grace. Yes, I think so.”

  “We are all extremely excited to hear your results. Talking with a few Committee members from down south, it sounds like the side effects we have witnessed are not isolated incidents. Initially, I wasn’t sure that other territories were—well, that they had progressed to our same level, using reversal proactively.”

  Using it to protect yourselves, you mean? I think it, but don’t say it. “You feel like other territories are also using reversal more extensively?”

  She nods. “Sounds like it. With all of this new research, we weren’t the only ones to run into...unwilling participants,” she says slowly, a wan smile on her lips.

  “Well I hope this will be helpful for all. I would hate to waste anyone’s time when they have traveled so far to be here.”

  “We have representatives from every territory in the union. And—” she pauses, glancing around. “I didn’t want to make you nervous, but Carole Berg is here.”

  My face blanches, the blood rushing in my ears. With eyes wide, I can’t make myself respond.

  “Nick? Are you okay?” Grace asks, eyebrows furrowed.

  I take a deep breath. “Yes, that just took me off guard. Nobody informed me that I would be presenting to everyone. The union, really?” Beads of sweat begin to form along my hairline as my mind attempts to process this. “Wait, why would Carole—”

  “Apparently she has been very concerned with the reversal reports. She has been hopeful that your research would provide some insights.”

  “How does she even know about my research?” I ask, incredulous.

  “We report every project from our territory,” Grace answers matter-of-factly. “Did you think it was off the books?”

  “I mean, yeah, I figured it was just my own thing.”

  “We have to account for resources, Nick,” Grace scoffs.

  “But if we are utilizing excess—” I start, the wheels in my head turning frantically. “Wait, does that mean that every territory is doing this? Is this change in protocol for Committee members union wide?”

  “What did you think? That we were the only region in this situation? Resources are centralized, Nick. We are all in the same boat.” She gives me a quizzical look, then laughs out loud.

  “Sorry,” I say, “of course that makes sense. I think my nerves are getting to me.”

  “Well, I will leave you be. I don’t want to add to it,” she says, a smirk still lingering on her face.

  “Thanks,” I say, my voice disappearing behind her. I push down panic, my fingers and toes numb and cold. In my mind, I had envisioned a very small scale version of tonight. Now, faced with the reality that I will be going for broke in front of the entire union leaves me in shock. And Carole Berg? I’m a dead man. There is no way that this will fly.

  Turning around, I face the back of the stage. This is not me. Again, the Committee has turned me into something I’m not: small, unsure, insecure Nick. Does it really matter how many people are here? How many witnesses there are? Sure, it might exponentially increase the risk of negative consequences for me, but will it really decrease the likelihood of my plan working? Pondering on this a moment, I come to the conclusion that it may actually increase the odds. If everyone is privy to the details, there is less of a chance that someone will reach out with bad information, looking for a more beneficial solution.

  Taking a deep breath, I tell myself I am ready. I am ready to make a real difference, not only in the lives of my family, but also, hopefully, for our society as a whole. We can’t go on like this. I still have twenty minutes before start time, so I quickly exit for a washroom break. With all of this added pressure, I definitely need to at least feel physically comfortable.

  “Thank you all for coming,” the Director says, calling our meeting to order. “I know we have all been anticipating this presentation for a few weeks, so I will be brief, but I think it will be helpful for everyone to see some statistics before I turn the time over to Nick.” He winks at me, and I want to vomit. The screen lights up.

  “This chart is a compilation of information I have been collecting since Nick first reminded us of our reversal conundrum. Of course, we were aware that individuals sometimes suffered from headaches or struggled mentally after some of these procedures, but they seemed very few and far between. Certainly nothing that I was overly concerned about. Curious, I reached out to each of you, asking for numbers and the results were shocking. At least, for me,” he adds, pandering.

  “You can see here the total number of ‘extensive reversal sessions’. For ease of charting, I have lumped all sessions that lasted longer than six hours into this group, regardless of type of reversal event. In the future, we will analyze this more specifically, but you can see, these occurrences have drastically increased over the last year throughout all territories. Next to it, we see the number of individuals who have reported side effects, including headache, dreams, confusion, or lower mental performance.”

  The room is hushed, everyone’s eyes glued to the chart in front of them. The numbers show that nearly eighty percent of patients in that category have reported one these symptoms. My fists clench involuntarily. How did Berg allow this therapy to be used so irresponsibly? How did Committee members move forward into completely uncharted territory without even considering that this could be harmful?

  A hand shoots up in the center of the room. The Director, though visibly surprised, calls on the woman. She stands, slight in stature and striking. Her angular face is set off nicely by her soft, auburn curls.

  “My name is Jessica Fray. I serve on the Committee for Maine Territory. These numbers are shocking to me as well. In my experience, these extensive reversal sessions are few and far between—used for emergency only. Am I missing something? How are our collective numbers so high?”

  Faces glance side to side in the crowd, bodies shifting uncomfortably. Electricity seems to flow through my veins, sending a surge of hope into my being. Not everyone agrees with this, I realize triumphantly. There is obviously at least one individual who isn’t currently employing these tactics and many others who don’t want to admit to it. I force down a smile, not wanting to betray my feelings. Yet.

  “Jessica, great question. Not every territory has progressed equally in this technique, but there will be increasing need in the months and years to come. As each territory is comprised of different population groups, we would expect a different subset of complications from the changes we have experienced. If you haven’t personally encountered push-back from our recent initiatives, consider yourself lucky,” he says, and I hear a few chuckles rise from the audience. “I am sure Nick will discuss more of this in a moment, but thank you for your concern,�
�� he says, diverting his attention back to the group as a whole. Again, I force my face to remain neutral. He has no idea.

  “I’d actually like to turn the time over to Nick. As I shared in my briefing, he has been our lead researcher on this subject and I urge you to listen to his recommendations. Nick?”

  I nearly laugh with giddiness as I stand, adrenaline overloading my system. Deep breaths, I remind myself.

  “Thank you,” I say, standing and taking center stage. “Like the Director mentioned, the use of aggressive reversal therapy has been used more extensively and, Jessica was it? I promise I’ll comment on that more near the end of my presentation, but first let me share some of my observations. I’d like to get a bit personal. Hopefully that’s appropriate in this setting—I think it will give credence to the information I will present tonight.” Taking command of the dock, I bring up my first slide. A picture of Kate and Bentley explodes onto the screen.

  “This is my pair, Kate. We haven’t always been together. You are obviously all familiar with the groundbreaking research completed by Eric Hayes?” Heads nod, so I continue. “Eric and Kate were paired for years before I came on the scene. They had two children—this picture displays only one of them. When Eric’s research propelled pairings in each of our territories, Kate and I were one of only eight matches in our territory. I know,” I acknowledge the collective, sharp intake of breath. “Many of you experienced fantastic pairing numbers, but we weren’t so lucky. Our Committee, based on research and personality analytics, took action to separate Kate and Eric, pairing her with me instead. I am her genetic match under the TSG parameters. Obviously, this was an incredibly difficult transition and both Eric and Kate struggled to make it. This concluded in my first experience with an extensive reversal session—Kate’s. Allowing her to move forward without any memory of her previous life. When she began to suffer from all of the side effects that the Director already mentioned, I was troubled and, based on this scan, made the connection that prompted my research on this subject.” Her scan appears above me and I stand in silence, allowing everyone to process the horror that was her brain. Sweat trickles down my back, but I ignore it.