Let us work together for the common good.
40.
The remodeled Charles de Gaulle Airport shone brightly, with white marble supports that curved organically in all directions, soaring three stories overhead. Crystal pendants of every shape refracted light from the glass ceiling and transparent tubes crisscrossed through the space, transporting people from one section to another on moving walkways.
Quan was waiting on the ground floor when he caught a glimpse of a woman wearing a long white summer coat in the arrival tube above him. It looked like Sealy and a minute later lift doors opened on his level and she stepped out.
Seeing him, her mood lifted. She smiled and her pace quickened.
He held her in a tight embrace and their embrace continued as disembarking passengers streamed past them like schools of fish around a river rock. He kissed her cheek and said softly, “I’m so happy you’re here. It’s been too long.”
“I know,” said Sealy. “I’ve missed you more than you know.”
“How are you? Let me see,” he said, looking at her middle. “You aren’t showing yet.”
“Just a little,” she said. “This coat conceals nicely.”
“And you’re feeling okay?”
“It was a long flight. I’m tired but I’m okay,” she replied.
They strolled to an outdoor area where a chauffeur from the hotel sprang into action, opening the doors of a sleek black limo-glide. After loading her suitcase, the driver offered sparkling wine or water and spoke in French to the traffic controller. A little after 1:00 in the afternoon, their craft merged onto the glideway and struck out for the heart of Paris.
“Remember the last time we were here?” asked Quan.
“I do. We had lunch at an outdoor café on Boulevard Saint-Germaine and the weather was perfect, like today.”
“It is perfect, isn’t it?
“Your conference went well?” said Sealy.
“It was something we had to do and I’m glad it’s over. I just want to relax with you. Maybe we can go to some of the places we used to. What would you like to do?”
“Honestly? A nap would be nice. Then maybe the museum . . . but not too much walking.”
Having Sealy by his side felt familiar and warm and yet there was a gulf between them—he was not the same. The Quan she knew no longer existed. That pleasant housing had grown into an estate with a thousand rooms.
Above Hotel Le Meurice, the limo hovered, waiting for a tour bus to depart. Then it descended and softly touched down. Attendants bounced into action opening doors and carrying luggage.
Inside the suite, Lotus embraced Sealy and Gaston greeted her with cheerful formality.
“We should let her rest,” said Quan, putting his arm around her. “The bedroom is this way.”
Sealy removed her coat and lay down on top of the king sized brocade bedspread. Gazing at the filigreed plaster ceiling. a feeling began to surface. There was something strange in the way she was treated by those in the other room. They were almost too friendly, as if she were an outsider, someone they had just met for the first time. She had been so moody lately. Perhaps, she thought, it was just hormones. Glad to be laying down, soon she fell asleep.
She emerged from the bedroom two hours later and wanted to know everything. She asked about the new center in California and about the work they’d been doing.
Lotus was effusive, telling about their housekeeper and the old farmhouse, the ocean and the beautiful new structures.
“Even though the location is kilometers away from the closest town, everything is new, including a state-of-the-art medi-bot system with an AI system that is better at diagnosis than any physician. The only downside is that we don’t have a NutriSynth system, and frankly, I’m getting tired of Mexican food.”
It wasn’t long before the topic of her transference came up. She did her best to illustrate what the experience was like and finished by saying, “Describing the path is nothing—walking the path is the thing. Isn’t that right, Quan?”
“The experience isn’t easy to communicate, but I think you express it as well as it can possibly be described,” he replied.
“All of you have done this?”
“All of us, including Gregory McGowen,” Quan confirmed.
Sealy understood now, it was their affiliation with the experience that set them apart from her. They had done what nobody else had. And, in her condition, it would be impossible for her to become part of their alliance.
A bellman came to the salon to set up for dinner. He removed a vase from one of the sideboards, reached under, and triggered a latch. The sideboard automatically articulated, extending into the room like an accordion. He finished with a white tablecloth and utensils wrapped in soft white serviettes. Waiters brought trays covered by silver domes and set them on another side table. A bouquet of delicious scents filled the room.
“I’m starving,” said Sealy.
Quan helped with her chair.
A basket of fresh bread was set down and appetizers of pan-seared foie gras.
Von Ang watched Lotus spreading pâté on a second piece of bread.
“What?” she said, “I’ve never tasted anything so good. This just became my favorite food.”
Von Ang lifted his wineglass and said, “A toast—to all of us together again and to all the good reviews we received at the conference.”
Quan looked at Sealy. “And to my lovely banlu.”
Noticing how withdrawn Sealy was, Quan asked, “Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m okay. I understand you’re all involved with this new discovery. It’s foreign to me and I’m feeling a bit like an outsider.”
“If it weren’t for the government interference, we could have all stayed in New Hong Kong,” said Quan. “Now that the research has been made public, I think my work in California is nearing an end.”
The conversation halted while waiters removed the dinner service and they moved to the lounge area in front of the fireplace. The hotel staff worked to restore the room to its former state. Once the they were gone, Sealy let the elephant out into the room—the issue that had been percolating inside her ever since she landed. Turning to Quan with a bit of aggravation in her voice, she said, “You haven’t talked about what it is that you can do. Lotus told me you can disappear.”
“You should show her,” said Lotus.
“In good time. I don’t want to alarm.”
“I’m not afraid, if that’s what you’re thinking,” said Sealy. “I want to see this.”
“Well alright then,” said Quan, rising from his chair.
Looking at the door, to be sure the waiters were gone, Quan gathered his mindfulness and said, “This might look a little strange to you.”
Dropping his arms to his sides, he closed his eyes and every atom in his body heard his inner command, knowing what they must do. His mind began to flicker, positioning the quantum structure of his body to move along the transfer axis. The shift was coming. Within the fine grain of his anatomy, an inextricable exchange was set in motion. Entering the pathway, he slipped from view.
Sealy pushed back into the sofa cushions and held her hands to her cheeks, eyes wide in astonishment. She reached a hand to where he stood. “He’s gone. Where is he?”
After a moment, Quan began to return, first as vibrating sands, then quickly becoming whole again. Fully formed, he opened his eyes. “See? There’s no way I could describe that.”
“I—I don’t know what to say. I don’t believe what I just saw,” said Sealy, holding her hand out to him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said, grasping her fingers.
“I don’t believe my eyes,” said Sealy. “I don’t understand this at all. Is it an illusion?”
“Isn’t it amazing?” said Lotus. “It’s real. He went to another set of dimensions.”
“It’s crazy. Tell me how it’s possible.” said Sealy.
“A very good question,” said Gaston.
“No one knows exactly how he does it.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Sealy.
“Look,” said Quan, patting his body. “Our bodies are made of particles and the particles are constantly cycling in and out of these dimensions. I just follow the flow to where it goes.”
Sealy scrunched her shoulders as if she felt a chill. “Yeow! Look, I’ve got goose bumps.” She rubbed her arms, looking to Lotus and von Ang. “Can anyone else do that?”
“I’ve been trying,” said Lotus. “But I haven’t been able to.”
Sealy looked side to side, trying to remain composed. She reached out from where she sat and put a hand on his knee. “That machine did this to you. Didn’t it?”
“The machine is how I learned to tap into what’s really a part of me. I’m preconditioned to be able to do this. It’s invigorating. I feel like a new person.”
“I was happy with the way you were before,” she said, looking down thoughtfully and feeling her belly. “What do you mean by ‘preconditioned’?”
“I mean the way my genes are expressed, may have something to do with it.”
“Then it’s possible our child will be affected as well.”
“Not necessarily,” said Quan. “And if it does happen, is it such a bad thing?”
“You didn’t show this to people at the conference, did you?”
“No,” said von Ang. “We all agreed not to . . . not until we understand it better.”
“I think it may be unique to me,” said Quan.
“But it might be heritable.” she asked while cradling her belly with both hands.
“Who can say,” Quan replied.
“Who else knows about this?” asked Sealy.
“Only the three of us and Mr. McGowen,” said von Ang.
“I’m relieved to hear that,” she said. “It’s not natural and I can’t imagine what others would think.”
When morning came, Sealy and Quan went for a walk. Leaving the hotel, they crossed through the tree-lined park to the river. Arm in arm, they walked to the edge of the embankment on a mission to find the love-lock they placed there many months earlier. Sealy recalled it was near a sign that said, “Welcome to the Champs-Élysées Port,” where the road split and descended to where the houseboats were tied up along the bank.
They found the dock road and the sign and, a few meters away, the little fence. There were hundreds of locks there, hanging from the crosslinks. There were combination locks and key locks of all sizes and shapes, some in bright metal and others in bold plastic colors. While they searched, behind them boats cruised up and down the Seine.
“I remember it was near this post,” said Quan. “Or was it that one?”
“I thought you put it about halfway between them.”
Side by side they searched for their heart-shaped brass key lock. In places, the locks were three deep and had to be lifted like petals on a flower to see the ones below.
“We were smart to put ours here and not on the bridge railing,” said Sealy. “They’re constantly removing the ones on the bridge because of the weight.”
“Maybe they’ve been removing these, as well,” said Quan. His wrist disk bipped. It was von Ang.
“Give us another ten minutes,” said Quan. “We’ll meet you at the museum.”
After carefully examining every lock in the area, they concluded that the city must have cleared the fence in the last year. Sealy looked at Quan compassionately. She was adjusting to his newly revealed ability. It was strange, but he was her banlu. He belonged to her and she to him—with or without a padlock in Paris.
“It’s all right,” she said. “Our memories are what’s important.”
A few hours later, inside the Musée d’Orsay, the foursome were strolling through a section of Joseph Turner paintings. Quan pointed to a nebulous landscape entitled Norham Castle, Sunrise and told Sealy how it reminded him of the Braneworld. “It’s like that. The shapes are vague,” he said.
“Interesting,” she replied. “If this is what it looks like. I like the real world better.”
They strolled on and in another part of the gallery, Quan lagged behind, staring at painting by Georges Seurat. The small plaque next to the painting read, “La Tour Eiffel—Neo-Impressionist Pointillism—1889.” He stood there, transfixed, and the others came back to see what held his interest.
“See?” he said, pointing to the speckled painting. “You see? We’re not the only ones who have seen the other dimensions. This is spot on.”
Staring at the dots on the canvas, Quan began to see particles dancing on the surface of the canvas and his body began to take on a grainy appearance.
Seeing his form begin to change, Sealy said, “Oh my God. No. Not here.”
She shot a glance at Lotus, who seemed mesmerized, staring at Quan as he became more transparent. Luckily no one was looking their way. She put her arms around both Lotus and von Ang, pulling them in close around Quan.
Quan felt his entourage move in, shielding him from prying eyes. For a moment he forgot where he was. Vanishing in public view was a huge mistake. He quickly returned to normal, feeling foolish. “I didn’t intentionally bring that on,” he said. “I had no control over it. Looking at that painting is what did it. It was subconscious.”
“That isn’t normal,” said Sealy.
“We should go,” said von Ang, outstretching his arms to shepherd them.
Crossing the Seine under the Leopold Senghor bridge, Sealy had to stop and rest. From the railing, they watched the boats going up and down the river.
With his arms around her, Quan said, “It’s a funny thing. The subconscious mind is like the hand that arranges a pillow while you’re asleep. You have no conscious control over it but it knows what to do.”
“Do you realize how risky that was?” said Sealy. “Word travels fast and there are people who would do anything to be able to do that.”
“I know.”
Back at the hotel, Sealy lay on top of the embroidered bedspread propped up by pillows, and Quan sat on the edge of the bed.
“It scares me that you don’t have control over that thing you do.”
“That was the first time,” said Quan. “It was involuntary and I’ll be more careful. I just need to be more aware of things that might trigger it.”
“This is all very strange for me. I’m trying to adjust. I love you no matter what, but you’ve changed and . . . I mean, how are we going to live like this? What’s it going to be like?”
“I’m different from other people. I was born this way. I can’t help it. It’s part of my heritage. I’m still the same person inside.”
Sealy studied him for a moment, then said, “We have a lot to talk about, like where we go from here. We need to talk about where we’re going to live and what we’re going to do next.”
“Going back to Oxford is one possibility,” said Quan, “but we might have to consider California, where the lab is. I’m not sure it’s safe for me to return to China yet. The Central Science Committee has caused problems. I’ll have to check with our lawyers.”
“We have to be together when the baby comes.”
“Absolutely,” said Quan. “I’ll be there and we’ll do what makes the most sense.”
~~~
Sealy left Paris still feeling like an outsider. Watching her banlu vanish and reappear was life changing. It was something the outside world, the world she came from, could not possibly understand. Strange as that was, even in her condition, or perhaps because of it, this new reality was something she had to accept. It was part of her life . . . and perhaps the life of her chile.
Quan prepared to go back to California. He’d made difficult choices and there were still matters that were unresolved. Before leaving Paris, he spoke with Bledsoe one last time. Despite Quan’s letter in the conference daily and the plans posted on the website, Bledsoe seemed surprisingly jovial. He said, “It was fourth down and ten. You punted and I can’t say I blame you. Y
ou can forget about the endowment and your visas are still temporary, but I can do you a favor, if you cooperate.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“If you cooperate, I’ll do what I can to make your visas permanent. In return, we’ll want you and your people to be available in case we need advice building those machines.”
“That can work,” said Quan.
41.
With the Paris conference behind them and Sealy safely on a flight back to New Hong Kong, Quan boarded a flight to California with Gaston and Lotus.
After takeoff, Lotus began fanning through the latest news. Finding an article in one of the bottom-dwelling zines she said, “Listen to this one. ‘Scientists from the Brane Reseach Center offered no explanation of how the experiments were conducted. Could it be that their data is fake? It wouldn’t be the first time this sort of thing has happened. It’s shameful when a scientist does this sort of thing and it becomes the responsibility of their peers to look into the possibility. It results in valuable time taken away from their own research and . . . ’ I can’t believe this,” she said. “It’s crazy. They go from a hypothetical to a false implication. They make it sound like we’re guilty without offering any evidence.”
“It’s possible the CSC planted the story to discredit our achievement. It appears to be their modus operandi,” said von Ang.
“All the more reason to invite other scientists to the new lab to see for themselves,” said Quan.
“In spite of the disruption, as long as there are liability waivers I’ll be willing to give it a try,” said von Ang.
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