Night came again, and under cover of darkness, Quan refocused his consciousness on the solid world of his birth and, after a time, he materialized under the glow of a gibbous moon. The particles disappeared and his eyes dilated as he readjusted. Around him, the earth and plants were releasing pheromones, insects were scurrying on the ground. Stridulating grasshoppers and croaking frogs made music—an asynchronous cacophony. Their discord was annoying Quan and he shushed them. The noise stopped. Still in his chair and weary from his extended stay in the Braneworld, he closed his eyes and began to drift off.
Leaves behind him crunched and jolted him from sleep. He turned to see a curious coyote standing next to a clump of manzanita. Its eyes were amber disks in the moonlight. Quan rose from his chair and looked right through the animal, to its bones, its panting lungs, and its quickening heart. Eye to eye with Quan, the coyote bared its teeth and began to growl. Without warning, without any conscious intent, Quan’s animal instinct kicked in. He grew larger, his viewpoint lifting as his size increased. Something powerful in his subconscious was coming to the fore.
Hairs on the coyote’s neck bristled and the animal backed away, its eyes wide, opening its mouth as if in agony, whimpering. Then it collapsed and fell on its side. Quan reached out to touch the creature—so pathetically small. His hand seemed gigantic in proportion. He reached out a finger and nudged the creature. It didn’t move.
What he was seeing didn’t make sense. Looking at his hand in the moonlight, it appeared to be huge—and blue. His arm was blue, too. He looked around. Plants were muted green; tree trunks were muted brown. Nothing else was askew except the color of his blue skin. His limbs were muscular and huge, like those of a Titan, and there was a pattern on his skin—thin orange lines tracing out spade-shaped patterns.
What were these? Scales? And my fingers, no . . . not fingers. What is this? Claws instead of fingers? And curling around my feet . . . what is that? A tail? What have I become? Claws, scales, a tail? What? How?
Then he remembered the blue dragon in his childhood storybooks—a long-ago imprinted image—the manifestation of a memory rooted deep in Quan’s subconscious. As a little boy, he was fascinated with dragons, especially Chinese dragons. Chinese dragons were said to be magical creatures. They were born of water, able to shape-shift from clouds to rain, able to flow with streams and rivers, and able to take on any form associated with water. And, because all living things contain water, a Chinese dragon was capable of taking on most any form.
With a few giant steps, Quan crossed the compound, arriving at the laboratory. He stood, looking down at its roof, as if it was a scale model—too small for him to enter. Peering into the ground, Quan saw von Ang tending to his experiments, like a child playing with bits of circuitry and ceramic, uncertain of he might find.
Feeling very tired, Quan, huge and blue, retraced his steps and curled up under the big oak tree. With eyes closed, he became aware of something in his hand. His fingers were wrapped around it, and, without looking, he began to feel its shape. The shape was somewhat like a tusk with tiny ridges running down its length. It moved, and then he realized he was holding his thumb. He slid it away from his encircling fingers and felt its pointy tip. His fingers too were long and pointy. He poked them into the palm of his hand, then stretched them out again.
Opening one eye, the pixelated air around him gusted in shades of cobalt blue and purple. There were neon green streaks whipping across the landscape like flaming jump ropes, and the air smelled like a mixture of steel and mint. Lifting his head, he took a deep breath and looked down at his forearm. It was no longer muscular and covered with blue platelets. Now his skin was back to the color of pale almonds.
I must have been dreaming, he thought. I dreamt I was a dragon. So real.
52.
San Francisco International Airport
The air is full of seething particles. Quan enters the main lobby of the international departures terminal with only his passport and his lucky rabbit’s foot in his pockets. Dark figures of people fringed in white are standing at the foot of a large view field. He can barely make out the vibrating yellow annotation of outgoing flights. Moving in closer, he reads the list, looking for the Sino World flight to New Hong Kong. It’s there, fourth line from the bottom, scheduled to depart in twenty-two minutes from gate 27B. Flight duration is listed as seven and a half hours.
At gate 27B, Quan stands in the churning sandstorm, watching passengers board the 8:00 flight. At the gate, each person is bioscanned for recognition. He’s ready to do what he needs do and, after the last person steps onto the gangway and the gate attendant closes the door, it’s time—time to make his move. He walks as fast as he can around the outside of the scanner, past the gate, through the closed door, down the ramp, and through the hull of the aircraft. He’s onboard.
Searching for a place to rest, he looks in the private compartments of first class. To his dismay, each compartment is occupied. Moving along the sandy shapes, down the right-hand aisle of business class, that section also appears to be full. Continuing to where a bulkhead separates the business class section from the remainder of the airship, he observes that the last two rows on the other side are vacant. Crossing over, particles slipping through particles, he passes through everything in his way, seats and passengers alike. He takes up a seat in the last row against the bulkhead, a seat that does not recline and is therefore unlikely to attract anyone.
Now, however, a more difficult task lays ahead. The flight is going to be over seven hours and, though he proved he can remain in the altered state longer, what will he do to occupy himself? He won’t be able to listen to music or read and most concerning of all, he won’t be able to fall sleep. He can’t risk losing concentration and sliding back into his native dimensions.
Airship takes off and Quan encounters a sensation he is totally unprepared for. The airship is moving away from him. Particles are streaming past and he has to concentrate on maintaining his location with respect to the ship. He rivets his attention to the outlines of windows and storage compartments to hold his position. The forward thrust of the aircraft is hidden from the other passengers but it’s visible to him. Particles are streaking through him at a ferocious rate. To maintain his position, he has to match the speed of the airship. It requires extraordinary effort.
How long can I keep this up? How nice it would be to travel the way I used to travel. A private cabin in first class, that’s the way.
His consciousness goes to parts of his body. He can feel his heartbeat, his lungs expanding and contracting, his extremities, and his meridians of energy. He follows nerve impulses as they ascend to the brain and he enters the connectome that holds it all together. Somewhere inside him he finds a way to fix himself with respect to the aircraft. In the same way he can bring his clothes with him into the other dimensions, he has brought the armrest.
I’m able to do this and the more I know, the stranger it seems. Millennia ago, our species went through a cognitive revolution. That separated us from all other species. Billions of neurons connected in a pattern that gave rise to “mind.” Our higher consciousness was born. Consciousness is capable of such complexity—capable of staying in the Braneworld while hanging on to this airship. What will it be capable of in another hundred years?
Hours pass and Quan holds onto his armrest. He intensifies his effort several times when it feels like he is losing his grip. As the hours drag on, it becomes increasingly more difficult for him to concentrate. At a few minutes before seven in the evening, the craft comes to rest at the terminal. His arm is on fire from holding on for so long.
Passengers begin to disembark. Beyond fatigue, Quan continues to keep himself in the other dimensions, hidden from view. He rises from his seat and walks out into the terminal,. Every molecule of him is crying out to relax and be free of the Braneworld.
Outside, in the churn of vibrating particles, he can barely make out the shapes defining a dock where people are waiting in l
ine for a conveyance that brings glides up to the surface from under the tarmac.
He makes his way past the taxi-glide station, He can’t risk identify himself and paying for a taxi. He can’t use his wrist disk to call someone without signaling his arrival to the authorities. At the end of the taxi stations is the Customs Office and the beginning of the commercial loading docks. Exhausted, he waits; and, after what seems like a very long time, a rectangular package belted with red nylon straps comes out on a conveyor. A bot picks it up and carries it to a waiting corporate glide. It’s a package that Quan prearranged to be sent from California on the same flight he boarded and the glide is from the Jintao Corporation.
Quan quickly jumps into the glide before it lifts off.
At the penthouse, the arrival tone sounded and Ning operated the entry door optics. Outside a Jintao company bot was there to deliver a large package addressed to Sealy. She instructed the door to open and told the courier to bring the package inside. The bot completed the delivery and returned to the glide. The door returned to opaque and Ning turned around.
“Welcome home, young master,” she said. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Her words startled Quan and, letting go of the Braneworld, he materialized in front of her.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Your father told me you would be here soon.”
“He’s here?”
“No. He talks to me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“You asked if I knew where he was and I answered correctly. I do not.”
Exhausted, Quan managed to ask one final question. “Did you see me enter the house?”
“No. I heard your breathing.”
Quan felt older than he wanted to feel and he found it hard to think about anything more. Too exhausted to question her further, he decided to resume the conversation after a shower and a good night’s sleep. His last words instructed Ning not to tell anyone of his presence, including Sealy.
The next day, at the breakfast counter, Ning ladled congee into a bowl and poured a cup of green tea for the young master.
Lifting another spoonful of the thick porridge, he said, “This is very good congee. Did you do something special?”
“It is the way I prepare it every time.”
“It’s very good.” Taking a sip of tea, he said, “I think I need something stronger. This morning I’d prefer English black tea.”
Ning obeyed and made a steaming pot of dark tea, setting it in front of him with a small pitcher of milk.
“It’s good to be back home,” he said.
“Yes,” said Ning. “And this is a very good home to be back to.”
After finishing his last sip of tea, he said, “I want you to com Sealy and ask her to come to the penthouse. Tell her a package arrived for her. Say you don’t know what it is, but it must be important. If she asks you to open it, tell her you’re forbidden to open anything addressed to someone else.”
Quan retreated to his bedroom and, while dressing, he thought about how isolated he was. He wasn’t able to venture out of the penthouse unless he entered the other dimensions. He couldn’t use the internet, nor com anyone. It wasn’t even advisable to activate his wrist disk inside the penthouse for fear that somehow his ID would be transmitted to the outside world. Even Ning had more freedom than he did.
In mid afternoon, a soft bell tone sounded announcing the arrival of a glide, and moments later someone was at the rooftop door. Ning opened the door for Sealy and said, “This way. I’ll show you to your package.”
In the great room, Quan got up from his seat and crossed to the entry area. The moment Sealy saw him, her hands went to her cheeks and she said, “I can’t believe it. You’re my package? What a great surprise!”
She laughed and embraced him. Kissing his cheek, she said, “I missed you so much.”
He began to back away and she said, “Don’t let me go. Just hold me.” A long moment passed before Sealy pushed him out to arm’s length and said, “I haven’t heard from you for ten days and now you’re here. You didn’t give me any warning. Not good. You had me worried.”
“I told you I’d be back.”
“You didn’t tell me when or how and Lotus said you disappeared days ago. What was I to think?”
“I’m done with all that. I’m here with you and that’s all that matters.”
He put a hand on her belly. “How’s our baby?”
“Baby and I are great and I’m thrilled that you’re here, but are you really here to stay?”
“Let’s sit,” he said.
They settled themselves on the circular sofa and Ning brought refreshments. Sealy had put on weight. Her cheeks were rosy and she looked so robust that Quan couldn’t stop smiling.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s been so long, I must have forgotten how beautiful you are.”
“Thank you for saying that.” She smiled. She was happy but there were so many questions. “Why did it take you so long to get back here? It’s been a week since you commed me. I had to rely on Lotus and she didn’t know where you were. I was worried. And she told me there was another explosion that blew up part of the highway. What’s going on there.”
“I know. So much happened just before I left. All I can tell you is that it’s been taken care of and the Center is protected. After Paris I wanted to wrap things up and come right away but I couldn’t. You know about the controversary with the Science Committee. My name was placed on a watch list. Now, the lawyers will clear things up but I couldn’t wait. So, I risked it and here I am.”
“And how, may I ask, did you get here?”
“I was a stowaway.”
“You did what?”
“It’s true. The invisible me hid in plain sight.”
She laughed, but her eyes told him she was shocked.
“You are here to stay? Your work in California is finished?”
“I’m here and I’m here to stay. Something happened that caused me to rethink my involvement there. It’s better for everyone if I’m not there.”
“You’re talking about the explosion aren’t you?”
“Things became very complicated.”
“So, what happened? And what does it have to do with you?”
“There were some very bad people trying to damage the facility. I think they were trying to get to me. Somehow, before they could get close, whatever they were doing resulted in an explosion and caused their death.”
“What! That’s horrible. And frightening. I’m so glad you weren’t hurt. But who were they?”
“Please, Sealy. Trust me. It’s going to be okay.”
“If they are trying to do harm, how do you know we’re safe? How do you know it’s over? I mean, if you can’t clear this up . . .”
He interrupted her and said, “This is an important time for us. I promise, these problems won’t touch us. You’re the only one who knows I’m here. You’ll have to stay with your parents for a while but long term I think we’ll live here in the penthouse—just not right away..”
“What about your father?”
“He won’t be coming back.”
“How do you know that?”
“He’s moved on and I believe he’s content where he is.”
53.
Liminal: occupying a position on both sides of a boundary or threshold; a transitional space; the middle state of a rite of passage.
Liminal. That’s what father’s ghost said. How crazy is that? But why not? Explore the other dimensions and have a family too. I can love my banlu and raise my son and disappear into the Braneworld everyday. Why not? I can be the nexus to the other realm—learn its mysteries and share them with the world. Why not? Be the nexus Be all I can be. After all . . . all is all.
In the three weeks that followed, Quan stayed in the penthouse, unable to interact directly with the outside world. He spent his days reading and watching the news with conferencing turned
off. He willed himself into the Braneworld whenever he felt and he consulted the wisdom of his father.
Sealy continued to stay with her parents and, every few days, she came to visit Quan under the pretext of designing a nursery. It was a ritual they agreed to continue until the arrest warrant was lifted.
The Jintao corporate lawyers continued their dialogue with the Central Science Committee and, as usual, the government demands were excessive and negotiations moved slowly. A month crawled past.
Von Ang added two research scientists to the staff and Lotus took over the job of managing the LONG website blog.
It was a mid-week morning inside the penthouse and Ning found the young Jintao reclining in one of the club chairs with his stockinged feet up on the table. The only light in the room came from a view field above him, angled to his line of sight.
Stepping into the study, she said, “May I interrupt?”
“It seems you already have. What is it Ningo?”
“One of the Jintao attorneys is on the com. He says it’s okay for you to take his call. The negotiations have concluded and you’ll want to hear what he has to say.”
Quan tapped his wrist disk switching to one-way view mode and accepted the call. Instantly a man’s face replaced the text he’d been working on. It was an unfamiliar face—a young man with black hair combed straight back and gold wire rimmed glasses pitched on his nose.
“Hello?”
The man spoke with a smile in his voice. “Hello there. I’m Jianguo Liu. I’m one of the lawyers working on your citizen status. This is an auspicious day and I’m happy to tell you that an arrangement has been finalized. Your residency need no longer be anonymous. All charges have been dropped and your normal freedoms are restored.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” said Quan. “I’ve been waiting for some good news. What kind of consessions were made? Give me the details.”
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