“Maybe,” Sachi said, “I’ve been pretty busy.”
“I can tell.”
“How is your split-brain thing going?” she asked, looking somewhat impatient, “is it still a problem?”
“It still happens,” I said, “about once a week or so. I’ve become more-or-less used to it by now.” I sat quiet for a moment, taking a sip of coffee, and then asked, “So, how did you get all this stuff, anyway?”
“I inherited a lot of it from the cartel,” she said, her interest returning, “and I’ve bought quite a bit of shit once I got here. The cartel was rich as fuck. When you’ve inherited all that money, it’s easy to buy shit. Especially in a place like this where money talks very loud.”
“And how did you get all these people to follow you?” I asked.
Sachi smiled, “I’m surprised you haven’t thought of it before. What often finds a following for any movement?”
“Shared culture? Ideology?”
“Exactly,” she said, “Ideology. I’ve given them something to believe in. That was my biggest mistake in Mexico. I didn’t have shit to unify people.”
“What ideology would that be?” I asked.
“Liberation.”
“Liberation from what, exactly?”
“Oppression,” Sachi said, sitting back in her chair, “tyranny. Social and financial inequality. You name it. People eat that shit up.”
“That’s cynical,” Akira said, “are you saying you don’t actually believe in any of that stuff?”
“I do,” Sachi said, “and I do actually want it for the people who follow me. I really do. But there has to be a certain…cold pragmatism about it. Because people need to be willing to die for a cause that’s bigger than them. And for shit they’ll probably never actually experience themselves. And the loftier the goals, the more willing they become.”
“That sounds like fascism,” I said, “with you as dictator.”
“It’s a means to an end,” Sachi said, “and I can’t think of a more efficient way to do it. Can you?”
“Your plan requires people believe in you,” I said, “that they follow you. How is that sustainable?”
“Uh, hello? Because I’m immortal,” she said, “that’s the sustainability.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if people could be moral independent of you?”
“You and I both know that won’t happen,” Sachi said, “humans are hierarchical creatures. This ridiculous anarchy experiment won’t last. Neither will democracy. People want someone who has the answers. Someone to lead them. They crave it. As immortals, you and I can actually supply those answers.”
“Meaning the real ‘ideology’ you’re supplying these people,” I said, “is to follow you and you will lead them to prosperity. Just like every revolutionary and strongman throughout history.”
“That’s what all fucking ideology boils down to,” Sachi said, standing up and leaning over the table, “someone pulls some stupid philosophy out of their ass – or they just straight up conquer people – and then everyone else falls in line. I don’t really give a shit what people actually believe as long as I can use it to get people to work towards a common fucking goal. The foal of making a better fucking world for everyone. Especially for you and me, who are going to have to live in this shitty world for a very long fucking time. I mean,” she scoffed, “why are you even arguing with me? What is it you’re trying to accomplish here with your ‘Christmas Crossing’ and ‘Easter Emancipation’ shit?”
“I might’ve hit some hiccups,” I said, “but I’m not feeding people a bunch of lies just to make the world a better place for us.”
“Yeah,” she said, standing up straight, “you’re feeding them ‘truths’ that’ll make the world a worse place for everyone. Truth is worse than a lie if it makes people fuck everything up,” Sachi leaned over the table again, “you and I both know the truth, and it keeps us up at night. The world is a shitty fucking place full of stupid fucking scared apes that’ll torture and kill each other for almost nothing. The first night we ever talked we told each other stories about some of the most horrible shit we’ve ever been through. I was raped of Berlin in nineteen forty-five. You were raped in Nanking in nineteen thirty-seven. We both saw what the Mongols would do to people. The Han. The Romans. The Mayans. The Assyrians. We’ve been through too much shit for you to be this naïve. Every belief is a fucking lie. So why not give them a lie that’ll at least make the world a better fucking place?”
“Can all you two do is fight?” Akira asked, scowling.
“That’s rich coming from you,” Sachi snapped, “you were always my biggest critic, yet you went along with all of it.”
“That’s why we left,” Akira said.
Sachi was about to snap back, but stopped herself. She cleared her throat and sat back down. After taking a big breath, exhaling slowly, she said, “I’m sorry, I…I don’t mean to be such a bitch. I have to admit, when you all left, that…hurt me. A lot.”
I sighed, “I didn’t do it to hurt you.”
“I know,” Sachi said, “I know…and I understand why you did it. Mexico was…growing pains, to put it lightly. And your leaving helped me see that. I think that’s partially what hurt so much about you leaving…realizing you were right. I can be a bit of a bitch at times. It took losing all of you to make me realize I was fucking up. But that’s the benefit of immortality. I won’t forget this lesson.”
“And I understand what you’re trying to do,” I said, “and…I agree with your premise. On the nature of humanity. I think there could be…” Akira and I exchanged glances, “I think there could be another way to fix things.”
Sachi raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “I’m listening.”
“You’re right that our immortality gives us a…a special insight,” I said, “we can remember lessons. We’re forced to think about the future. To think ahead. Not be so short-sighted. I thought…” Akira and I exchanged glances again, “what if everyone had access to immortality?”
“I don’t understand,” Sachi said, “how would you accomplish that?”
“Benecorp is working on that right now,” I said, “and so are Akira and I. We’re discovering a lot of…of strange things about…well…”
“The very nature of reality,” Akira said.
“Anything that’ll help you make everyone immortal?” Sachi asked.
“We’re not sure yet,” I said, “it’s still a work in progress.”
“Benecorp probably already knows everything you know,” Sachi said, “and more. They still haven’t done it.”
“That’s probably true,” I said, “but we know where Jiang Wei reincarnated.”
“Excuse me?”
“She doesn’t know yet,” Akira said.
“Know what?” Sachi asked, leaning forward.
“Jiang Wei,” I said, “is also immortal. Like us.”
“Really?” she asked, sitting back in her chair, “interesting. And you know where he’s reincarnated? Does Benecorp?”
“Yes,” I said, “but they can’t get to her. Imelda. She’s being held by the Chinese government.”
“That doesn’t help much, then,” Sachi said, “Benecorp will eventually find some way of getting her.”
“I have a way of getting her,” I said.
“How?”
“With Goodwin,” I said, “we can access the CSA Director’s mansion. I’m going to get to the Chinese president during their GPFTA talks during Goodwin’s campaign.”
“And do what, exactly?”
“Force him to give Imelda to us,” I said, “I’m going to blackmail the Chinese president.”
“You have something on him?”
“Don’t need to,” I said, “I can make deepfakes.”
Sachi laughed. “That’s a ballsy fucking move. It won’t work, though. All these government officials and corporate people have software that can easily detect even the best deepfakes. If they worked, people would be using
them all the fucking time. Hell, I wanted to until Akira told me about the detection software…I’m guessing you haven’t talked with her about it?”
I exchanged glances with Akira before saying, “no, I only just thought about it recently after looking at what China wants from the GPFTA. I’m aware that we can’t just make up a story about the Chinese president diddling kids or something. But if we make the deepfakes something everyone already believes…have them talking about and plotting the extermination of minorities – the Uyghur, Hui, Tibetans, and so on – and the annexation of the southeast Asian peninsula and the Philippines in order to control the shipping passage needed by the GPFTA…”
“They still won’t negotiate with a bunch of terrorists,” Sachi said, “you’re a nobody to them.”
“I know people in the Indian government,” I said.
“Oh?”
“I’ll have Imelda handed over to them,” I said, “and my Indian contacts will hand her over to me in exchange for screwing up the GPFTA talks.”
“I thought India was on board with-” a smirk came over Sachi’s face, “ah, I see. You’re working with those nationalist people.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Sachi nodded, “sure, that plan could work. You might end up with Imelda. Where does that get you? Are you going to raise Imelda like a daughter and turn her over to your side or something? Get her to give you the goods on Benecorp’s little science project?”
“You think it won’t work?”
“Hell,” Sachi said, “you might even achieve all that. But it still doesn’t get you any closer to making everyone immortal.”
“Why not?”
“Because it can’t be done,” Sachi said, “this isn’t some science thing. It’s beyond that. We’re immortal for a reason. It’s a gift we were given. How it happens or why it’s us, I don’t know. But neither will you or Imelda or Benecorp or anyone else. There’s just no scientific explanation for it.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Sachi successfully shut down any debate – I wouldn’t be able to convince her of my plan if she believed the linchpin was unachievable. I looked to Akira, seeing the same realization in her expression.
“Well, I hate to interrupt this philosophical debate,” Akira said, “but I would be very interested in talking to Doctor Landon.”
Akira smiled, “yes. Of course. I’ll bring you to her right now.”
Chapter 34
“Why are you interested in Doctor Landon, anyway?” I asked as we made our way across the parched field toward one of the barracks. Sachi and Akira had to move slow so I could keep up, every step sending pangs through my body.
“Wasn’t really at first,” Sachi said, “except that her name came up on a list of names we acquired from Enduracorp. Then when we got here and found out you were interested in her, we thought she might have important intel.”
“What list of names?” Akira asked.
“Don’t know yet,” Sachi said, “except that they’re all scientists from around the world. They don’t seem to be working on any joint projects or anything.”
“From mid-sized companies?” Akira asked.
“Yeah…”
“We ought to compare lists,” Akira said.
“Sounds like a blast,” Sachi said, “I can send it to you now.”
“I’ll send mine.”
Both of them stopped walking, focusing on their Ars. My display told me that I received a file from both.
“Damn,” Sachi said, “yours has fifty-two. Mine was only fourteen.”
“Was it a competition?” I asked, opening both files side-by-side.
“I don’t know,” Sachi said, “but I lost.”
“All the names on your list are on mine,” Akira sais, “Enduracorp must be looking into this network, too.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know why they’re significant, would you?” Sachi asked.
“They don’t care for Benecorp,” I said, “which makes me wonder why they haven’t brought Enduracorp in on it. NexBioGen was running experiments on those children for Enduracorp.”
“Then maybe Enduracorp is in on it?” Sachi asked.
“I don’t think they are,” I said, “otherwise Enduracorp wouldn’t be looking into them. And they’d have the full list, not just fourteen.”
“I think their size is important,” Akira said.
“I know some men who’d disagree,” Sachi said.
Akira and I both looked at her.
Sachi shrugged. “It was a joke. My people would’ve laughed.”
We all started walking again.
“What I mean,” Akira continued, “is that they not only bring mid-sized companies in on it…they also don’t seem interested in getting bigger.”
“What makes you say that?” Sachi asked.
“One of Eshe’s contacts in the Anonymous Knights said NexBioGen had the most powerful supercomputer in the world,” Akira said, “which would make them capable of getting much bigger than they already were.”
“They’re using their smaller size as a disguise,” I said, “while still wielding a lot of power by distributing it over multiple companies in multiple countries.”
“That’s my hypothesis,” Akira said.
“But how?” Sachi asked, “and why? And wait, you have a contact in the AKs? I feel like I’m being left out in the cold here.”
Now you know how we always feel, I almost said aloud, but decided not to start another argument again. By the look on Akira’s face, she was holding back from saying something similar.
“A woman we rescued in Kansas,” I said, “who claims to be an Anonymous Knight. I have reason to believe she’s not lying, although I can’t say for sure if she’s telling the whole truth.”
“Sure,” Sachi said, “whatever. But it doesn’t answer what this happy fucking fellowship of science firms are up to.”
“That’s why want to speak to Landon,” I said, “amongst other things. Has Landon given you anything useful?”
“Not really,” Sachi said, “but until this point, I wasn’t sure what fucking questions to ask.”
We reached the barracks, Sachi nodding at the guard outside the door before leading us in. We walked past stacks of boxes toward the back, Sachi unlocking a door and sliding it open.
“You again,” Landon said, sitting in the corner of the dim room, a long chain shackling her ankle to the interrogation table bolted to the floor. A mop of messy brown hair tumbled down the sides of her pale face, the pantsuit hanging off her thin frame ruffled and dirt stained. Yet a hint of defiance poked through her defeated gaze.
“Feel like talking?” Sachi asked, carrying two foldout chairs into the room, setting them near the table.
“No,” Landon said, “but I guess I don’t gotta choice?”
Sachi smiled, going back out for two more chairs. Akira and I folded out the two already there and sat down. Landon slowly brought herself to her feet, the chain clattering as she walked over, taking one of the chairs as Sachi brought them into the room, deliberately unfolding it and sitting down across from us.
“I suppose you’re wondering what happened?” Landon asked, leaning forward and putting her elbows up on the table.
“That would be a good start,” I said.
“It was Dewitt,” Landon said.
“She ratted you out to the CSA?” I asked.
“Yes,” Landon said, “she discovered the hardware connected to our home offices. And she knew I was snoopin’ around, lookin’ for her.”
“Looking for her?” I asked, “you mean like breaking into her house?”
Landon nodded, “I’ve had conference calls with Dewitt. We video chatted a few times. But I never actually met her. Never seen her in her office. Never knew where she was.”
“What are you saying?” I asked.
Landon sat back in her chair, crossing her arms, “I don’t think Dewitt exists.”
“Doesn
’t exist?” Akira said, leaning forward, “what do you mean?”
“I think she’s an online alias for someone,” Landon said, “maybe Benecorp or the CSA intelligence agency or something. The person of Susan Dewitt is just a computer projection.”
“But why?” I asked.
“No idea,” Landon said, “maybe a way to shield their involvement in that child sex ring you people exposed?”
“Or it could be something NexBioGen was doing,” Akira said.
“I had no idea about the fuckin’ trafficking ring they were-”
“Not that,” Akira said, “something for Enduracorp.”
“Enduracorp?” Landon said, “I never had contact with ‘em.”
“Then why were you specifically named on a list Sachi’s people got from them?” Akira asked.
“No idea,” Landon said.
“Bullshit,” Sachi said, standing up, “you were the fucking CTO of your company. Don’t pull this ignorance horseshit.”
“If I knew, I’d tell you,” Landon said, “I wish I could tell ya what was goin’ on there, cuz that fuckin’ company turned my goddamn life upside down.”
“What about your project to cure Shift addiction?” Akira asked as Sachi sat back down with a sigh.
Landon smirked, “I guess your little hack worked, eh? Well, then, maybe you can tell me what they were up to.”
“Just answer the question,” I said.
“It was a contract with the PRA government,” Landon said, “very hush-hush. The PRA is secretive, especially when it comes to Shift.”
“Where’d you get the compound you were testing?” Akira asked.
Landon shrugged, “it was purified from cell cultures the PRA sent us. The sample was human origin. Someone they referred to as asset A.”
“That’s all you know?” I asked.
“It was,” Landon said, “but I started lookin’ into it when I began suspecting Dewitt. She was the one that got us the contract with the PRA.” She shook her head. “The project was way above our pay grade, but Dewitt was always good at gettin’ us that kinda stuff. Another reason I think she’s just an alias for someone much bigger.”
“What did you find about this asset A?” I asked.
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