Cohesion Lost

by Justin Tyme

next class tonight,” Doctor D said, “but I’ll stick around to hear what they say.”

  “What class?” I asked. I handed Doctor D his pad. National security would contact me using mine.

  “Epidemiological Models.”

  “Interesting,” Haji said. “Tell us more.”

  “I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

  “We’re all biology students,” Damisi said. “It fascinates us.”

  Doctor D’s eyes brightened and he spoke in a hushed intense tone. “There are a handful of parasites, microbes, and viruses that don’t cause the host to spread them in the typical manner.”

  “Like sneezing,” Damisi said.

  “Exactly. Sneezing: what an ingenious method. This world is filled, absolutely filled to overflowing with potential viral hosts. Every time one of those thirty billion people sneezes, they spray forty thousand infectious aerosol droplets. But rabies, ah rabies, is even more insidious. It doesn’t just tickle your nose to get out, it rewires your brain so you’re hydrophobic, you salivate, you become aggressive, and you bite a new host. Just before it kills you, it hitches a ride on your saliva to get into the next host’s wounds.

  “Hydrophobic?” Haji asked. “What advantage would rabies have in making its host fear water?”

  “That’s easy,” Damisi said. “Drinking would flush out or dilute the pathogen.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Do we have access to the rabies virus here in our labs?” Muna asked.

  “Are you kidding?” Doctor D said. “No. Even the national center supposedly destroyed its samples ten years ago. There has not been case of rabies for over fifty years. It takes... hold on.” He pressed his index finger to his earlobe. “Yes.” He closed his eyes and signed. “I’ll be right there.” He opened eyes and lowered his hand. “Sorry. Your physician wants me upstairs to sign forms. Hopefully I’ll be back before National Security calls. I want to hear what they say.”

  He left and for the next fifteen minutes we debated whether it was ethical for the university research labs to have access to contagious pathogens. Finally, a message popped up on my pad stating that security bot B911 from the Department of National Security was calling. I took the call and the bot’s holographic image appeared above my pad. It was even more generic than the medical bot. It had a cylindrical head topped with a military cap, two pinprick eyes, a barrel chest, and it barely moved its head when it spoke. It was able to analyze the data immediately, and just as immediately denied our submission because my mental condition made me a suspect source. Yes, the security bot could go into the university’s system to verify the claim, but it would take several days to authorize the entry. No, it could not be done sooner, because our source was suspect.

  I threw up my hands. “So before you can verify it, we have to verify it?”

  “Do not pursue this. Neither this security bot nor the Vantu Department of National Security encourages or condones civilian investigations. I’m sorry, but because this has been suggested, I must transfer you to our legal department. If you need to contact me in the future, my link has been sent to your terminal. Have a safe day.” The bot flickered and the holographic image of a uniformed man appeared with patriotic music and subtext for the hearing impaired. It was a recorded message that began, “Hello, and thank you for contacting the Department of National Security. Your participation is ...”

  Click. I terminated the link.

  “Well,” Haji said, “we could save the world if Tenbu wasn’t mentally disabled.”

  “I’m going back in,” I said.

  “How,” Damisi asked.

  “However Muna got in. She met me in my simulation to try to get me out.” I looked at Muna. “How did you do it? It wasn’t normal. You weren’t the main character and you didn’t believe it was real.”

  “Doctor D got me in as an admin. That’s what he does to verify the upgrades are working.”

  I nodded. “I’ll ask him to let me back in as an admin.”

  Haji scoffed. “Do you think the big D will do that? Just get the surgery and be done with it.”

  I cast to Muna alone, If I run into Jana, how am I going to explain you?

  Muna smiled. Very carefully, she cast, and then aloud she said. “Actually, I was thinking that we would all go in.”

  “It might be too dangerous,” Damisi said. “What if the staring man kills us?”

  “So you believe me!”

  “I’m just saying it’s a possibility.”

  “How could he kill us?” I asked. “I died in the system and I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure you died?” Damisi asked.

  Doctor D walked over to us, out of breath. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Yes,” Haji said. “The National Security bots are bureaucrats and Tenbu is nuts.”

  “Stop it,” Muna scolded.

  “Well, Tenbu,” Doctor D said, “you did what you could. Let’s get that surgery.”

  “No,” I said with my newly found Alexander-boldness. “They didn’t accept my story. I need more proof. We want to go back in.”

  “The plexus beds are not toys.”

  “Alright then, I’ll contact a real person at National Security. These anarchists are not fringe political movement any more. If they can poison Benin’s water supply, they’re desperate and coordinated enough to release a pretty nasty computer virus. I have to prevent this!”

  “I don’t want to embarrass this university with prank calls to National Security.” Doctor D’s eyes narrowed and he worked his jaw. “I’ll let you in the simulation as admins, but,” he held up a finger, “if you don’t find him within one day sim-time, I’m pulling you out.”

  “Give us a week,” I said, “that’s less than a minute real-time.”

  “Alright a week. It’s a stupid idea, but if you’re hell-bent on harassing National Security or getting back in, I should set it up. I can guarantee your safety to a point, as long as you’re in contact.”

  “How do we get out?” Damisi asked.

  “I can create a macro,” Doctor D said, “that will monitor you and pull you out when you say ‘Doctor D, pull out.’ I’ll pull back the veil like I did for Muna earlier and you’ll be admins. That is, except for Tenbu. You should probably go in as Alex.”

  “Why?”

  “If your so-called staring man exists, then you’re the one he was after last.”

  “Will this be the same time I left?” I asked. “I mean, will I be bleeding on the pavement?”

  “Laying on it, yes. Bleeding, no. Everyone else will appear as bystanders and won’t have a veil. You’ll remember yourselves and look like yourselves so you can recognize each other. Tenbu, you will be the only one in character. You’ll look like Alexander Sevik, but if your medical condition holds out, you won’t forget who you really are this time. Your veil will be there but it will have holes.”

  Damisi hesitated. “I’m not sure about this, going back in with an anarchist.”

  Haji took a deep breath. “If you’re not going in, then I’m not...”

  “Don’t stop doing something stupid for my sake,” she said. “Act like real man.”

  “I’m in,” Haji said.

  “Yeah,” Muna said, “be brainless and submissive.”

  Scene 8

  We returned to the classroom. It was empty with no classes scheduled, and we watched as Doctor D reset the simulation entitled: “Alexander Sevik, Father of Cybernetics.”

  We all lay down on the plexus beds. I closed my eyes. Slipping out of my body and into Alex’s on the pavement, my self-identity began to ebb; my memories faded.

  I heard Doctor D’s voice saying, “Keep your focus, Tenbu. Don’t forget why you’re there. I’m only doing this once.”

  Scene 9

  Tomorrow was today, and the pavement was my bed. My head cleared. I blinked and stared up into the sky. The crowd had gathered around me, but there was no staring man. A woman in her late thirties, desperate
with fear, ran up, screaming for someone to call an ambulance. Was she the driver of the car that hit me? I felt fine, a little embarrassed, but physically fine. “I’m OK,” I said. I sat up and looked for the staring man in the crowd and beyond. There was Muna, Damisi, and Haji, each at different corners. They were also looking around, and none of them gave any indication that they spotted the staring man. The driver, now hysterical with relief, threw her arms around me, mumbling something about a miracle. That, I thought, remains to be seen.

  I got up and walked back to the corner that none of the others stood on. Passersby gawked. I waved them off.

  I saw Muna and Damisi make their way toward me. Haji was hopping impatiently, waiting for the light. He saw me looking at him and yelled, “He’s behind you.”

  The staring man must have understood, because when I turned, he also turned around and walked away from us. He was on my side of the street, so with our covers blown, I followed him as quickly as possible without running. He had a good lead and was half a block ahead. He looked over his shoulder and sped up but didn’t run. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Muna and Damisi were jogging and Haji had given up on waiting for the light and was dodging traffic. The staring man was almost to the next intersection. It wasn’t a main street, but it had its own traffic light. It was red so if he was going to cross it he would also have to dodge traffic. Instead, he turned up the street and disappeared behind the corner building. I ran with the others five meters behind. I rounded the corner ... and there he was, standing, facing us down like a cornered animal. He could