“How do you know my name?” He wonders if Aris ever mentioned him to her friend.
“She listens to your music all the time. There’s a song she has on rotation. The one that sounds really pretty.”
“Luce?”
“Yeah.” Benja chuckles. “You know, it’s usually the fan who does the stalking.”
“And how about my other identity?”
“That one was pure, unadulterated accident. One of the times I saw you, I decided to follow you. Then I realized we were going to the same place.”
“The meeting,” says Metis, “Was that why you asked me how to get your old lover to remember their past?”
“She was your lover, wasn’t she?” Benja asks.
“Yes,” Metis says and immediately feels lighter. The secret had been weighing heavily on him.
Benja shakes his head. “You’re such a hypocrite.”
Metis feels blood rushing to his face. Benja does not hold his punches.
“She really likes you, you know? I mean, she hasn’t told me about you. That’s why I know you’re different from the other guys she dated. Plus, she hasn’t gone out with anyone else since the gift market.”
Metis feels his heart growing in his chest.
“So, what are you going to do?” Benja asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You know, to get her to remember?”
“I’m not. She’s entitled to her life.”
“A hypocrite and a moron. And to think I admired you.”
“What would you have me do? Take off my clothes and break into her house?”
“For the record, I broke into the house before I took off my clothes.”
Metis shakes his head. “Do you care about anyone but yourself? There are consequences to every action, and you’ve already put yourself in a bad situation. I’ll be damned if you drag the rest of us down with you.”
Benja’s face reddens. He mumbles, “No one knows about you guys.”
Metis narrows his eyes. “Does Aris?”
Benja says nothing.
Metis speaks slowly so the words would sink in, “You have no idea how precious Absinthe is. The authorities would destroy it the first chance they get. It must be protected.”
“What’s the point of protecting it if you can’t use it to its full potential? Why not give it to her and spare yourself the pain?”
“It has to be her choice. You can’t mix your past and present.”
Benja scoffs. “Yeah, yeah, I heard that crap before. You can’t be with her because your love is honorable and pure. That’s such bullshit. You’ve been stalking her, pining for her just as I’ve been for my lover. You’re not honorable. You’re petrified.”
Benja gets up from the couch and begins to pace with his arms wrapped around his middle.
“You know what pure love feels like? It’s like having a star burning in the pit of your stomach, consuming you from inside. You can’t eat, can’t sleep because there’s a hole inside you that demands to be filled. Nothing will satiate it but that person. You’d do anything. Anything. Just for the chance of getting a glimpse of your love.”
Metis’s fists clench into balls. “Don’t you dare lecture me on love. You’ve found out you have an old lover when? A month ago? I remembered mine near the beginning of this cycle. You’ve lived with that hole inside you for a fraction of the time I’ve been living with mine. The difference between us is restraint.”
Benja laughs bitterly. “Restraint. What does that get you?”
“And what does acting on your obsession get you? A night at the police station sure feels just like the warm embrace of a lover, doesn’t it?”
They stare at each other, each unwilling to back down. Metis feels like punching a wall or Benja’s face.
“Look, you brought me here because there’s something you want. Just spit it out.”
Benja sighs. “Absinthe. I need enough for the rest of this cycle, seeing that I won’t be allowed into the meetings any longer.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me if I don’t give you what you want, you’ll give up my identity to the authorities?”
Benja laughs. “No, only to Aris.”
Metis’s blood runs cold.
Benja continues, “Look, I don’t want the police to meddle in our affairs any more than you do. I’m not going to turn in the maker of Absinthe. And for good faith I’ll even throw in a sweetener.”
“What?”
“I’ll convince Aris to take Absinthe,” Benja says.
Metis presses his back against the window behind him.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be her choice. I can be convincing. If she still has memories of you, you two can live happily ever aft—I mean, until the next Tabula Rasa. If she doesn’t, her life will be no different than it is today, and you can walk away knowing you’ve done everything you could.”
“Why do you want to do this?”
He smiles. “You mean besides having my own supply of Absinthe?”
“You could have stolen it from me and not gone through this trouble.”
“That’s a thought,” Benja says and shrugs. “Too late now. Besides, I’m kind of curious.”
Metis stares at him. The handsome man still has his arms wrapped around his stomach as if letting go would mean spilling out his insides. Benja’s eyes gaze outside, into the pit of darkness. Metis feels sorry for him. And himself. They are both stuck like rats on the tar of this life.
Thane waits despite the biting cold wind stabbing his exposed parts like tiny pointed knives. He adjusts the knitted hat on his head and looks up at the high-rise building where Benja lives. A man went up with him—the first guest Thane ever saw him bring to his apartment. The man looks familiar, but Thane cannot pinpoint where he has seen him before. He is not in the file of suspects.
Are they friends? Lovers for the night? Thane does not know. But there is a chance that he is Benja’s supplier. And for that chance, no matter how tiny, Thane waits.
He looks up at the clear sky. This cycle is flashing before him like a meteor. It seems like it was just yesterday when he woke up in the hospital after Tabula Rasa. For almost four years he lived a simple life—assigned a name, a job, and a place to live. If only they had assigned him a lover too; life would have been better.
He has been spending too much time this cycle searching for someone to share this life with. Too many times he has sat across from strangers trying to force a connection, wasting moments on empty conversations.
He thinks of Aris. She is his missed opportunity. He wonders whether he will see her in their next life.
A little more than three months, and it will begin. Another chance to get it right. A rebirth. He can shrug off this old cocoon and become someone different—whomever he wants to be. But will he change? Will the next life be different, or will he simply be the same Thane with another name and another job?
Will he work for the Interpreter Center again? Will Apollina still be there? She seems a permanent fixture of the place, like its walls and its Dreamcatcher. What about Professor Jacob? How many cycles have they been chasing after the drug that makes people think they can remember their past?
Thane does not understand its allure. Why would anyone want to relive their old life? The endless possibility of the future is much more enticing than the fixed and immovable past. It’s no different to him than the broken and abandoned items in the storage room at the museum.
A rush of wind funnels through the buildings and knocks him off balance, sending chills through every molecule of his body. He thinks of his apartment and its warmth. He glances up at the tall building. There is no sign of Benja or the man.
Thane turns toward the direction of his home. A movement from the corner of his eye catches his attention. He looks back and sees the man who went up with
Benja exit the door of the building. The man pulls up the collar of his jacket to cover the sides of his face and crosses the street.
Where have I seen you before?
Thane decides to follow him. They walk through block after block populated by restaurants and bars still busy with the late-dinner crowd. Callisto never sleeps, especially now, when everyone is out spending their entertainment points before they lose them at Tabula Rasa.
The air is filled with the sounds of chatting, laughter, the scraping of plates, and glasses clinking. People weave by like schools of fish. Thane concentrates his attention on the back of the dark-gray jacket so he will not lose the mysterious man in the masses. He has gotten better at following—“spying,” as the Interpreter calls it. The trick is to have patience and focus. Thane has both.
When Thane looks up again, he finds himself on a familiar street. The man stops in front of a building and walks through its entrance. Thane sucks in a breath in surprise. He hides behind a couple going in the same direction and follows.
The man enters an elevator. Its door closes before Thane can get in. He jumps into the one next to it.
“Which floor?” a voice of an AI asks.
Thane thinks quickly and decides on a number. The one he knows well. He hopes he is wrong.
When the elevator door opens, the wind outside pushes against him as if warning him to stay. He pushes back and gets out. The soaring promenade is empty. When he does not see the man, he sighs in relief.
Just as he is about to turn back, Thane notices him. The dimly lit figure sits on a bench, his eyes staring up at a building down the path. Aris’s.
The temperature is near freezing this high up. The man huddles in his jacket. Around him are shadows of leafless trees and scraggly bushes. It’s a lonely image, like a black-and-white photograph Thane once saw in an art museum.
On this barren walkway, there is no place to hide. Thane doesn’t want to risk being seen. He peels his eyes off the solitary man and turns away.
Who are you? And why are you here?
Chapter Fourteen
A series of loud knocks startles Aris from sleep. She was in the middle of dreaming the same dream that has been haunting her. Bright light. The sound of the ocean. The feel of warm wind blowing in through a window. The dream has been increasing in frequency and vividness and leaves her feeling ragged each time she wakes.
She runs to the door and opens it. Benja’s haggard face greets her.
“What are you doing here? What time is it? Is something wrong?” she shoots out questions without waiting for answers.
“Let me in. Please,” he says and pushes himself through the crack of the door before she can protest.
She glances at her watch. December 19, 3:06 a.m.
“It’s three in the morning!” she says.
His eyes zero in on the dining table, where a shiny object sits. He walks to it. The copper helmet is surrounded by a mess of tools and wires.
“What is it?” he asks.
She wishes she had put it away. “Nothing. Something from work.”
“Why do you have it at home?”
“I’m trying to figure out what it does.”
She took it from the Tomb so she can have more time with it. It’s not like Thane would notice a piece of junk missing from a storage room. Still, she can’t help but feel a little guilty for having it.
Benja moves to pick it up.
“No! Don’t,” she yells and rushes to it. “It’s fragile.”
A part of its shell is open, exposing the intricate interior. She has been trying to work out a way to turn it on. It needs a power source. Everything does. But there is no switch or button to jump-start it to life.
“What is it?” he asks.
“A transmitter of some kind, I think. It’s old. But the technology is pretty advanced.”
“What does it do?”
“That, I’m not sure. I think it may be for the brain. I think the wires are for transmitting information.”
“It reads minds?”
“That’s impossible.”
Benja scoffs. “Nothing is impossible. You, my friend, need to expand your mind.”
He bends down and peers at the helmet.
“Looks like a severed head,” he says.
He is right. The copper helmet with its cut wires resembles an amputated head. She touches the ends of the wires, feeling the sharpness of the metal pricking her fingers. They remind her of arteries and veins—transporters of blood, the life force in a human.
“What if it really does read minds?” he asks.
It is a far-fetched theory, Aris thinks. The mind is complicated. It is infinitely creative and deep. Thoughts are not linear like conversations. They are not bound by rules.
Aris imagines reading a person’s mind would be like sliding down a tunnel where different bends take you on tangent paths that lead to confusion.
“Or dreams,” he says.
“With you, it always goes back to that,” she says.
He answers with a mischievous smile.
“So, what’s going on? You didn’t come here to analyze my helmet.”
“You, my friend, are right,” he says, “I have a proposal.”
She narrows her eyes. “What kind of proposal?”
“The kind that will blow your socks off.”
“I don’t want my socks blown off.”
“Hear me out.”
She sits on the chair next to the table. He takes the spot opposite hers.
“Okay, speak,” she says,
“I want you to try Absinthe.”
“What!” Aris stands up, almost knocking the chair over.
“It will be a one-time deal.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m going to make a deal with you. In exchange for you trying Absinthe, just one teensy time, I promise to stop wanting to make my old lover remember.”
Aris is taken aback. Benja is obsessed with the man in the white hat. He is the one he wants to take Absinthe. Not her. Suspicion rises.
“Why would you want to do that?” she asks.
“I know you’ve been worried about me.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“I know I haven’t been a good friend to you, and I’m sorry. So I’ve been thinking about it. We only have three months left. Even if I can get him back, it won’t be permanent. I’d gladly trade it for your chance to experience what I did. I can’t describe what it does to me, Aris. I just had another dream. I saw life in the last cycle. Or maybe even more than one. It’s so much more than a dream. It’s reality. An enlightenment. I want you so badly to see as I do.”
Benja’s proposal sounds almost logical—or as logical as he is capable of being. Should she consider it? A chance to see the past is intriguing—if it works. If it does not, then she will at least have factual experience to support her argument against the drug.
But what about the craziness?
There is no way she will end up like Benja, she knows. She is too practical to waste her time on pointless endeavors.
A thought comes to her. Maybe she can buy some time. If Benja has some distance from his obsession, perhaps he will get over wanting to convince his old lover, or whoever that man is, to remember.
“Really? You want me to see it that much?” she asks.
Benja nods. “I love you, Aris. Don’t freak out. It’s not in the romantic way that grosses you out.”
He takes her hand, and she feels the smooth hardness of glass pressing against her palm. She opens it and sees a vial filled with green liquid.
“How did you get it?” she asks.
“I have my ways.”
Aris sighs. “I’ll think about it. Meanwhile, be good. Okay?”
Metis’s
fingers glide across the keys of the piano with the quickness of a rabbit running from a fox. He is being hunted by his own thoughts and memories. If he does not run, he will be caught and shredded to bits by sharp teeth and claws.
Aris’s face rises and falls in his mind. He had given up a small supply of Absinthe together with a vial Benja promised to convince Aris to take. If Benja is successful . . . He does not even want to think about it. He feels both hopeful and guilty.
He hears a knock on the door.
Aris?
His heart does a flip, and he jumps up from his seat.
He goes to the door and opens it. There is no one there. On the floor is a piece of blank paper. He pokes his head outside and looks side to side. The street of his neighborhood is still and quiet.
He picks up the paper and closes the door. In the kitchen he finds a match, and with practiced hands, he lights it and holds it under the paper. The heat from the fire burns the words, revealing them: “B @ IC.”
His heart falls to the cavity of his stomach. Many months ago, he held a similar message in his hand, but it was regarding Bodie.
His thoughts immediately go to Aris. Does she know?
Aris runs until her lungs are filled with acid. Her sides feel as if stabbed by knives. The lone white structure of the Interpreter Center stands before her, surrounded by the peacefulness of the trees and expansive lawn.
The grass under her is soggy. Her feet make squishing sounds at each contact with the earth. The cold air smells sweet, with a bit of musk from decomposed leaves and wet earth. The snow is melting.
Please let me get there in time. Please let me get there in time. Please . . .
Her conversation with Officer Scylla runs in a loop in her mind.
“I arrested him last night,” said Officer Scylla. “He broke into the same house he was found in previously and threatened to harm one of the men. His partner knocked Benja unconscious before I got there.”
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