Could it really be as simple as wanting power?
Sachi was motivated by a sense that we were given reincarnation in order to act as the world’s guardians. This drove her to acquire power – she didn’t want power as an end in itself, but as a means to an end. It was possible that Imelda held similar motivations. It was possible she wanted to use the power of Benecorp to steer the future toward something more desirable.
Or she is as much of a nihilist as you and will fuck over the world just to make things more comfortable for herself, Evita said.
That was the thought that kept coming back to me. Jiang Wei’s ability to make deals with drug cartels and Yakuza, to experiment on children and enslave people to make Shift. It all rang as a desperate attempt to do what it takes to make immortality more bearable for themselves.
But I still couldn’t figure out the end-game. These immoral concessions might be necessary to achieve that comfortable life, and to become the author of the planet’s future…
…but to what end?
Calvin Lind wanted to live forever. It was possible that Jiang Wei – Imelda – just wanted to understand how reincarnation works. Why it happens to her, and not others. Those were questions I also found perplexing. I could understand going to such extremes to find answers.
Not that I would…but I can understand how they got there.
But what does Shift have to do with any of it?
I had a possible answer to that question, but it was an answer I was afraid to think about. It hit too close to home. It had to do with something Akira had talked about. The delivery system for Shift. It was a small polymer ball – a dendrimer – that could have several different molecules attached to the outside. In the case of Shift, it had molecules that allowed for the complex to cross the blood-brain-barrier, entering into specific types of neurons, and then editing specific genes inside those neurons. But this delivery system wasn’t exclusive to the drugs. It was possible to hack a person’s genome with just about any kind of edits someone could think of. Akira had worried about mind control, but it could be used for other things.
Other things, like if someone figured out how reincarnation works…if someone figured out a way to hack someone’s biology so that they are reincarnated after they die. Possibly having to do with the molecule found in those of us who are reincarnated.
It didn’t appear that Benecorp had yet figured out how reincarnation works, or how the molecule was connected to it. But like Akira, they seemed to think the molecule was important for recapitulating the phenomenon.
Or it’s the only route anyone knows how to take at this point.
Unfortunately, my plan counted on Benecorp making progress on reincarnation. That put me in a position similar to Sachi’s form of utilitarianism – sacrifice a few to save the many. In this case, letting Benecorp continue to experiment on a few people – cutting open their brains, getting them addicted to Shift – in order to achieve immortality for everyone else. It’s easy to make that calculus from a corner office in some Dallas skyscraper, but when in the presence of the kids who have had their brains experimented on, or were forcefully addicted to Shift, the decision to sacrifice a few in order the save the future isn’t so easy. Especially since there was no guarantee it would even work.
There has to be some other way to find out…I need Sachi on board.
But more than that, I need Akira to stay with me. To not leave with Masaru. I need someone who can figure out how to do this without sacrificing human lives. I can’t do this myself.
But it has to be done. If the future is to be a better place for everyone, there truly is no other choice…
As all these thoughts swirled in my head, I eventually fell asleep, only waking up when the shuttle arrived back in Cortez.
Chapter 20
“She’s two and a half now,” Masaru said, sitting on the floor as Yukiko played in front of him, the cane across his lap, “she still doesn’t speak well.”
“She hears too many languages,” I said, sitting up on the couch next to Laura, “we take for granted that everyone has an earpiece to translate for us. But Yuki hears all of us speaking differently.”
A wan smile spread on Masaru’s lips, “she does speak a strange mixture of Japanese, German, Spanish, and English. Do you think it matters, since if she just uses a jumble of them, our earpieces will still translate it for us?”
After returning from Denver, I had tried to get ahold of Bita to ask what she knew about Gopal still being alive. Unfortunately, Bita was in India to attend his funderal and meet with relatives. There was no telling when she would return, if at all. The remaining Bitter Brews of Bengal was up for sale.
The story of the Easter Emancipation was still on the collective minds of the former states of America, but began to be overtaken by the response to it, mainly in the CSA. The financial crisis became a bigger topic in the speeches than the human trafficking ring, although Gabriel Mitchell still made sure to keep going with his rhetoric about the moral decay that he was going to cast out like money lenders, but now incorporating the looming economic depression into this narrative. The enthusiastic support for Mitchell made it clear that his handful of opponents didn’t stand a chance. Even in the LoC the topic waned. More mundane affairs took priority.
That was no different with us. Masaru wanted me to speak with him and Akira. I already knew what it was about. Akira was finishing something in the lab while we waited.
“But what will her earpieces translate to?” I asked, “sort of an interesting experiment. As people move about the globe, getting past language barriers and intermarrying with people who don’t speak their language, children will grow up with mixed languages. Then they reproduce with someone else with a mixed language, giving their children a strange mixture of four languages. This keeps going for several generations until everyone’s making grunts and noises.”
Masaru looked both amused and horrified by this. “How do you think Yuki would react to having earpieces placed in her ears?”
“Not well,” Laura said, her listless gaze on the oblivious child, “I tried. They were too big, I think. Maybe if you could find some kid sized ones.”
“What language do you think would be best for her to learn?” Masaru said without taking his gaze off his daughter.
I shrugged, “I don’t know. The world is getting to a point where it’s hard to hide from other languages. Depends where you plan to take her after you leave.”
“I guess we could go with Japanese,” Masaru said, looking to Yukiko, who continued playing, blissfully ignorant to our conversation, “you know, just to keep our heritage.”
“I can start speaking Japanese around her,” I said to Masaru in Japanese.
“After you leave?” someone said, “where are you going?”
Masaru and I both looked to the doorway, finding Akira there. She looked almost as tired as Laura often did. Her short hair was a rat’s nest, unwashed for over a week. No makeup covered her pale face, exposing dark rings around her eyes and worry lines at the corners of her mouth. Her clothes – a t-shirt and sweatpants – were wrinkled from having been worn for several days straight. Once again, I was reminded of myself as Marcy Riviera near the end of my previous life.
Masaru pulling himself to his feet with the cane. I exchanged glances with Laura. She gave me a subtle nod – I had warned her what this meeting was likely to be about.
“Yuki,” Laura said, pulling herself off the couch, “let’s go find something to break.”
Akira’s eyes narrowed, watching Laura lead her daughter to the stairs.
“I’m guessing you’re all talking about me behind my back again,” Akira said in a low voice.
“We’re happy to talk to your face,” Masaru said, leaning on his cane, “but you’re always in the basement.”
She exhaled slowly, “did you call me up here just to tear into me again?”
“No,” Masaru said, taking a couple steps toward his wife, “this really is
about how to move forward from here,” he glanced at me before turning back to Akira.
“I’ve been looking into Kansas,” Akira said, her tension somewhat relieved to be talking about work, “there is a lot of internet activity there. With all their startups they always have a lot, but there’s more than usual. I think it’s a good place to-”
“That’s…not really what I meant,” Masaru said, “I think our part in all of this is…well, it’s time to move on.”
“I don’t understand,” Akira said.
Masaru glanced at me again before continuing, “I think we need to give our daughter the kind of life she deserves. What we’re doing…this is no way to raise a child. And you…you need a break from all of this.”
“You don’t know what I need,” Akira said, “and Yukiko is fine. She is-”
“She is traumatized,” Masaru said, “you sleep down here now so you don’t know. She can’t sleep unless she’s in our bed. She still has nightmares. And her speech problems…it’s more than just hearing different languages all day. She stutters and-”
“Is this about the plan?” Akira asked, glancing at me, “you don’t like what Eshe and I are doing and you want to stop us, is that it?”
“I am against this plan,” Masaru said, “but I am not working against you. I’m not going to lie. This misguided plan factors into my decision. But it ultimately comes down to what’s best for our family. For Yukiko. And for you.”
“After all we’ve done you want to step aside and let Benecorp win?” Akira asked, “if it wasn’t for us, those children would still be enslaved.”
“I don’t want to stop helping completely,” Masaru said, “but there are ways we can help that’ll still let us give our daughter a normal life. We don’t need to take such an active role and put ourselves in-”
“We’re not leaving,” Akira said.
Masaru stood quiet a moment, flustered by the finality in Akira’s tone.
“Eshe,” Akira said, looking to me, “you don’t agree to any of this, do you?”
“Akira-chan,” Masaru said, “this isn’t his-”
“I don’t,” I said, Masaru looking at me angrily, “I’d rather you all stayed. I don’t know how I’ll do anything without you two. But…it’s not my decision.”
Masaru’s expression softened before he looked back to his wife, “I think you know I’m right about this. You know it’s what’s best for our family. For our health. And for-”
“At the expense of the world,” Akira said.
“The world has fared without us for a long time,” Masaru said, irritated, “which it may not if humans are given an unnatural ability to live forever.”
“It is about what we’re doing,” Akira said, “but you haven’t offered anything better to-”
“I’me leaving,” Masaru said, “and I’m taking Yukiko with me. I want you to come, too, Akira-chan. Because I love you and I think this is what’s best for us.”
“You’re not taking my daughter,” Akira said, stepping closer to Masaru.
I got up off the couch, approaching, not knowing if things might come to blows.
“She’s not staying with you,” Masaru said, “you don’t even spend time with her anymore.”
“Now you’re calling me a bad mother?”
“No,” Masaru said, “I think you’re going through a terrible depression. That’s understandable. And that’s one of the reasons I think you should come with me and-”
“You’re not taking my daughter!” Akira shouted, eyes damp with tears.
“Then come with us!”
“You want me to choose between my daughter and the rest of the world?” she asked, “how can you be so cold, Masaru?”
“Being cold would be standing by and watching you spiral further into despair,” Masaru said, “and watching our daughter lose her mother right before her eyes.”
“This is emotional blackmail,” Akira hissed, looking to me, “you’re going to let him do this to me?”
“I-”
“Don’t bring him into this,” Masaru said, “this is about us.”
“I’m not leaving,” she said.
“I want you to think long and hard about that decision,” Masaru said, “because I will take our daughter with me. Our door – and my heart – will always be open to you when you come to your senses.”
“You’re…you’re unbelievable,” Akira whispered, wiping tears from her cheeks, “you’re…”
Masaru reached a hand up to touch her, but she pulled away, a look of disgust on her face.
“You hate me,” she whispered, “you hate me, don’t you?”
“You know I don’t.”
“Yes, you do!” she said as the emotional dam burst.
Akira fell to her knees, planting her face in her hands. Masaru reached toward her, but she crumpled to herside, curling up into the fetal position, sobbing.
“Akira-chan…”
“I’m…dis…gusting…”
“You’re not,” he said gently, wincing as he dropped to his knees beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t recoil this time.
“I…I…I want t-to just die…” she sobbed.
Masaru rubbed her arm. His legs quivered, supporting his weight as he leaned over her.
“You’re an amazing woman,” Masaru said, “you’ve been through so much.”
“I c-can’t…I can’t take it anymore…why does it h-hurt so much?”
“Akira-chan,” he said, just above a whisper, “you’re such a strong person, but you can’t do this alone.”
“Akira,” I said, walking closer, “I think Masaru is right. I think…you need to figure out how to help yourself before…before you can think about how to help the world.”
She raised her head and looked to me. “Eshe…”
“He’s right,” Masaru said, “you need to get better before anything else.”
Akira stared at me, silent except for sniffles, for almost a whole minute. Tears continued streaming from her eyes. It was difficult to guage what she was thinking. Finally, she spoke.
“I’m…tired,” she looked to Masaru, “I…I want to go to bed.”
Masaru forced a smile, “of course, Akira-chan.”
He brought himself to his feet before bending down and lifting Akira. She stayed limp as he gritted his teeth, lifting her frail figure. Even in her diminished state, it was still more weight than Masaru could handle on his crippled leg. Yet he managed to start shuffling forward, gasping every time weight went on his bad leg. Akira’s eyes now looked off into the distance, focused on nothing, as her husband, fueled by love, managed to carry her up the stairs.
I stood alone in the living room, looking down at Masaru’s cane where it lay on the living room floor.
I’ve lost my best assets…but at least that part is over with.
“I’m alone,” I said, walking slowly along the sidewalk toward downtown.
I had to get out of the house for a while. Too much was happening. Too many raw emotions. But most of all, it was now official. They were leaving me.
You know why that is, though, don’t you? Evita asked.
“Because I…I’m the one who left…who left Sachi…”
Because Masaru is selfish, Evita said, he cares more about his messed up little family than he does the rest of the world.
“I wish they weren’t leaving, but…Akira won’t be any good to me in her state, anyway.” A couple coming out of a restaurant gave me a curious glance.
But you don’t think he’s doing the right thing, do you?
“No…I don’t.”
But you’re going to let him do it.
“I don’t have a choice.”
But you do, Evita said, there’s something else going on here that you’re too scared to admit. Something your right hemisphere thought of during a split-brain episode. You might call your right hemisphere evil, but you know it’s true.
“You mean…”
The rea
son Akira is in the state she’s in, Evita said, is simple. Someone tampered with her brain implants after the Christmas Crossing.
“I don’t know that,” I said, weaving my way through pedestrians as I entered downtown.
What else could it be?
“Lots of things,” I said, “maybe she really is just depressed?”
Something she could fix with her brain implants, Evita said, you have to eat least admit that something is wrong with them, even if nobody tampered with them.
“If that’s true, she would have to know something’s wrong with them.”
“Something wrong with what?” a voice startled me.
Major Riviera stood next to the silent construction equipment, an M249 light machine gun slung over her shoulder. The place where Laura and I were when the bombing occurred. I arrived there without even realizing I’d been heading that way. The loose, short sleeved uniform that Riviera wore indicated that she was on duty. A look of curiosity pulled her muscular face taught. Sweat beaded on her shaved head in the hot June sun. Faint bruises and cuts in the latter stages of healing remained leftover from the Easter Emancipation. It was still difficult to believe that Rosy, the sweet little niece from my previous life, had become this imposing woman. Yet I couldn’t help but feel some small sense of pride knowing that she had grown up to take on something important.
As if you had some part in that, Evita said.
“Just talking to myself,” I said, taking a few haphazard steps toward her.
Riviera’s face relaxed a bit as a smile grew on her lips, “I used to know someone that did that quite often.”
“Someone from around here?” I asked.
Her smile faded somewhat, “no. My aunt, from when I was younger.”
“She’s not around anymore?” I asked.
“Not for quite some time,” Rosy said.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, now only a few feet from her.
“It happens,” she said, “to be honest, it wasn’t that much of a surprise to anyone.”
“Why’s that?”
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