“Fixed things? Fixed things? What things? What did you fix?” Peter yelps.
“You certainly are not the Western romantic hero type. The kind who wakes up in the morning next to his lady love and hugs her with poetic musings about how much last night meant to him,” she says with an alarming giggle as she sits up in bed.
Sitting up with her, he rubs his eyes, his temples, and replies, “That’s part of this curse of our nights. We don’t remember anything.”
“Really? Not even great sex? The throes of the most ardent passionate flames igniting the innermost desires of eternal bliss?” she jests as she strokes his cheek.
Confused, fogbound, and very frightened, Peter pauses as he scans her. Pajama buttons open up top, showing beautiful pale skin above her bust with no sign of flush. “You’re playing the femme fatale with me again. Aren’t you?”
She giggles again. “I will as long as you keep reverting back to that boy who does not think he is heroic enough to wake in the morning with a woman he called the most beautiful he ever met.” She reaches over and rubs his forehead in that special way.
He closes his eyes and savors the moment. She knows. How does she know to do this? And then he feels her hand opening and slithering through the buttons of his pajama top, then the warmth of her palm on his chest, over his heart as she rubs in a way he has never felt—other than yesterday, from her.
And his respiration slows, the fog of his night begins to clear. Palm still on his heart, his head is guided by her other hand into her neck, her hair, and the scents of her, still with that touch of jasmine, fill his nostrils. And time slows.
Minutes pass. Or was that hours? And he finally mumbles, “Illyana. I cannot. Illyana, I cannot.”
Somewhat perplexed, Mei shakes her head. Grimaces. Then puts his head to her chest and says, “Gaze upon me. Listen to my heart.” His breath quickens and she says, “Illyana. You can. You can.”
He only mumbles, “No, I cannot. I cannot kill.”
Mei can only shake her head again, at a loss for what to do now. Shaking her head yet again, she looks to the ceiling. For inspiration? For her divine ancestors? She inhales deeply and then gently brings his head up to hers and open-mouth kisses him.
Peter’s body goes limp in her arms. And he mutters, “Nanshe. Nanshe. I love you so much.”
Taking the cue, Mei says back, “I am Nanshe and I love you too.”
And Peter replies, “Not that time of the month. But the other time. Time to make a new baby.”
She hugs him, lightly. His lifts his head up higher as if to see if it is safe to emerge. She musses his hair and smiles, giving him the reassurance he needs. “What were you seeing? I am very flattered you would like to start a family with me. Usually it takes a guy a few to several years before he is willing to take that step, if ever,” she muses, hugging him again.
His eyes roll right, then left, then down as he angsts. What do I tell her? I saw her in my dream. She asked me to make a baby with her. She’s the one.
Mei sits next to him as she says, “You have proven my point that afflicted men need only be touched in a certain way to activate their residual memories. As you will soon find out, Alexander adamantly believes otherwise. He believes that I needed to have had sex with you last night in order for you to have your visions, your primordial flashbacks.”
Remembering what Pappy said, Peter nods in agreement with Mei. And then his MoxWrap sounds. And before he can do anything, Mei has touched it, sending a holographic image in front of them. And there is Samantha, turned away from them as she is brushing her hair, ready for bedtime. “Peter, I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. I hadn’t heard from you since I left you at your place. How is your head doing? Any of the symptoms the doctor said we should watch for?”
And she turns around and gasps, eyes not on Peter but on Mei, with her pajama top opened and her cleavage showing. “Oh my. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please, forgive me,” she says as her hand reaches to tap her MoxWrap off.
“Don’t go,” says Mei, buttoning her top. “Please. You must be Mrs. Gollinger. Peter has told me so much about you.”
Trying to straighten her hair, Samantha says, “I hope not only the bad parts. I may be a helicopter mother, but I only mean the best for him.”
Mei hugs Peter, who is back into deer-in-the-headlights mode, as she replies, “I am sure you will be proud of him. He has been a complete gentleman with me.”
Samantha’s eyes are no longer fixed on Mei but on the wall behind her head. Mei looks behind her and says, “Oh, the MoxWorld logo. Peter, why don’t you tell your mother the good news?”
“Uh, Ma, I interviewed with Mr. Murometz yesterday. It’s been such a whirlwind. He offered me a job and we’re flying to MoxWorld’s EU Headquarters to meet with him personally. I should have called you, but it’s been nonstop since yesterday morning.”
Eyes affixed again on the woman sitting next to him, she says, “I’m proud of you, Peter. I knew one day your special gifts would take you far. But…maybe we can talk privately about your situation?”
Taking the cue, Mei rises to get out of bed, saying, “Please, Peter, I’ll take care of things in the forward galley while you two talk.”
But to her surprise and his mother’s, Peter’s hand grabs hers and pulls her back down. “Please, Mei, given what you’ve been tasked to do, to know who I am, you should hear what my mother has to say.”
And Samantha nods approvingly. “Why, Peter, that’s the boldest thing I’ve ever seen you do. The change looks good on you.” She then looks back at Mei and asks, “I should ask about your new job, but you know me. What I really wanted to ask is about your friend.”
With a stroke upon Peter’s left dimple, Mei replies, “Please let me explain?”
And he nods; his head keeps bobbing up and down as his mind races.
“Mrs. Gollinger, I wish we could have met under different circumstances. There is so much I would love to discuss with you. My name is Mei.”
Samantha politely smiles as she asks, “And Mei, if it isn’t too forward to ask, what is your interest in Peter?”
Pursing her lips, Mei answers, “I can only imagine what you might thinking. The two of us here on a bed, in pajamas.”
“Very tasteful matching ones, I might add,” muses Samantha.
“I am interested in Peter’s genetics. You see, I lead Alexander Murometz’s genetics initiatives. Well, I know I don’t look the part right now, but I am vice chairman of the board for MoxBioGenetics.” She turns to check in with Peter, who has his bewildered face on, staring at her with his head tilted.
Mei gives him another one of her disarming smiles. “Your son is a very special person. He has a rare ability to see people, read people, and touch their inner dreams. I wish I could explain more about what MoxWorld is doing and what he will do within MoxWorld, but if it is not too rude of me, I would like to know more about you.”
Pulling her blond hair in front of her, Samantha smiles back as she continues to brush. “Of course, my dear. A woman always wants to know more about the mother of the man she shares matching pajamas with.”
Mei stifles a giggle, squeezing Peter’s hand. “If it is not too personal, I was wondering if you have a little bump at the base of your skull?” She moves her hand up to the back of Peter’s head and rubs. “Peter has one right here.”
Lips tilted to one side, one eye squinting as she glances up and down at this vice chairman woman in silk pajamas rubbing her son’s neck. “I don’t know whether to be scared for my son that you have found out about my family’s little bump after only one night with him, or ecstatic that my son followed my advice to find a nice eligible woman in the new company he was joining. Tell me, Mei, which one should I be feeling?”
He knows that look. The one that almost scared Sarah away the first lunch he dared to arrange with his mother. What he can’t understand is how she could ask such decisively intrusive questions and get away w
ith it. Whenever he does this, he just gets into more trouble, especially with men.
But the chivalry she taught him takes hold of his senses as he places his hand atop Mei’s. “Both, Ma. Mei is a very special person, not just a special woman. She’s also a professor of medical genetics who’s genetically tracing the roots of our oral traditions.”
He glances at her, smiles, and squeezes her hand. “Most importantly, she’s helping me deliver on my promise to Pappy to solve the mystery of the Reindeer People, the tail of the bird star, and the object.”
The proud mother nods. “Well stated, my dear editor. Please remember what I said about a good woman while you chase your promise.”
Her eyes turn to Mei’s. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mei. I trust my son’s taste in women. You are quite lovely. And smart. Please accept my open invitation to lunch at my home when you return.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Gollinger,” Mei politely replies. “I will take good care of your son for you, and we will have that lunch when we return.”
Samantha blinks her eyes at her son, smiles, and signs off.
Poor Peter. He stares at the end of the bed, shaking his head. He turns to Mei. “Vice chairman of the board? Where in the ‘who am I’ discussion did I miss that?”
“The same place that your family’s definition of a good woman disappeared into,” Mei replies, gently tapping the back of his hand. “You still owe me what you can recall of that dream. You know. That baby-making one.”
He turns to her, his eyes fixed on hers. “Only if you explain what’s really happening here.”
She takes his hand into hers and shakes. “Deal. Now, what was going on in your head? What did you see?”
He nods and then feels her hand with his thumb, rubbing in circles. “A man and woman. Together. In the way that my grandfather described. And she with him in the ways in which you touched me.”
A pause as he gazes into her eyes. Dreamy-like.
Snap. Snap. Snap. Mei clicks her fingers in front of his face. “Don’t go there. We’re not those lovers.”
“But we are,” Peter pleads. “You’re the one in my dream. You’re the one my grandfather described. You’re the good woman my mother described.”
She puts on her disarming smile, which sags into a flat line. “My mother would be in heaven hearing you say that. But we need to stay focused here. We have a mission to complete.”
Flat line on his mouth, Peter gazes down again. “And your turn, what is that mission, Ms. Vice Chairman of the Board?”
With a rub on the back of his neck, in that special spot, she replies, “In your head, in your dreams, are the images and emotions of what happened a long, long time ago. Somehow, in your DNA, hidden in the ninety-eight percent of your genes that are normally dormant, that knowledge was coded and passed down from one person to another, just as the oral tradition was passed.”
“Why me? Why am I seeing things now?” laments a confused Peter, gently touching the spot on his head that Ape Man hit two days before.
“We think—that is, I think…my hypothesis is that the five-sense algorithm I used on you apparently helps activate the expression of those dormant genes,” Mei replies in a very professorial tone. She then glances to a syringe resting on her dresser. “And if you could forgive me, I injected a genetic vaccine into you last night. One which would activate those genes.”
Eyebrows raised, Peter feels both his shoulders, searching for any sign of being injected. “What am I? Your guinea pig? They eat guinea pigs in South America.”
Mei rolls up her left sleeve to show a minute red spot. “Silly, I vaccinated myself as well in San Francisco. We both have activated dormant genes. Do you think just any man could make me moan from my feet? We are both genetically special, and now genetically enhanced such that the five-sense algorithm can have maximum effect.
“That is why Alexander made me vice chairman of his prized MoxBioGenetics unit. With the power of his amassed scientific talent, I now had access to the resources needed to fully activate what is repressed in your head.”
“Your hypothesis? What other hypotheses are there?” asks a pondering Peter.
“Alexander fervently believes the afflicted man and woman must have intimate sex with fluid exchange. Fortunately, the former Jesuit priest you will meet this morning has a much more mature point of view. One of us is correct,” Mei, the professor, the scientist, and the executive, states simply.
“I’m still not comforted by all of this. I feel like a lab rat. All of this, last night, is all about you finding out if you’re right, isn’t it?”
She buttons up his pajama top. “Last night was all about a very special man who adeptly stepped around the outer persona I was asked to wear. About an even more special man who may have stepped around my outer persona protecting me from the brutality of a man’s scientific and business world.”
She takes his hand into hers, very warm and soft, and then touches his left dimple. “A man who might meet the definitions of what my mother told me a good man was, who I let have his way with my beloved feet and calves.”
Peter finally smiles. “And what did happen between us last night?”
A giggle, a smile, and soft eyes. She answers, “I’ll tell you after we have that lunch with your mother. Of course, first we’ll have to meet my mother, with whom you will have to take her ‘good man’ test.”
She laughs again, and that persona she spoke of reemerges. “But in all seriousness, I personally believe in Alexander, his goals, and what the results might mean to all of us. Not only you and me, but a lot, I mean a lot of people. He has my complete and utter obedience in this matter. So if Alexander tells me it is essential to our mission for me to be close to you, to nurture you, then I will.”
She pauses, looking out the window at the morning skies as they pass over the English countryside. “There are limits, though. He has asked me to go beyond my limits. He will do the same to you too. Every person has to decide when they have reached their limit and weigh their limit against the importance, the value of what is challenging that limit. Sometimes limits change. You may find yourself in this very situation very shortly. You will have to decide on the spot what you will and will not do. You may have microseconds to decide. And the consequences of not deciding may be dire.”
Peter stares out the same window, reflecting deeply on what she has said.
“We’re an hour out,” says Mei, looking out the window with Peter.
“We need to get ready for your big day.”
She gets out of bed and tells him to use the shower and bathroom while she goes up to the galley to fix their breakfast. Peter finds a new set of clothes laid out for him—a long-sleeved button-down black dress shirt in a cotton-silk blend, with the softest thread count, the MoxWorld logo embroidered in raspberry on the pocket, matching raspberry cuff buttons, and much looser silk blend boxers and black dress pants. As he dresses, he frets about what is going to happen in Luxembourg.
He comes up to the forward dining galley, where Mei has laid out breakfast. She tells him to start without her as a lady needs a reasonable amount of time to get ready in the morning. So Peter catches the morning edition of MoxMedia WorldNews AM while eating. Rhonda is wearing an eye-catching low-cut coral cowl top, which brings back memories of his last moments with Sarah. She has neutral brown smoky eye shadow and coral lip gloss.
Rhonda annotates video of Turkish bombers being fueled and readied. What is their destination? Sanliurfa, where the AC forces are heading, or the newly declared Anatolian Kurdish State?
The news flashes to the Georgian parliament, where their prime minister is shown giving his agreement for Russia to station several armored divisions, several squadrons of fighters and bombers, and assorted landing ships and frigates within their borders. The screen cuts to footage of Russian T-50 fighters in the Crimea, taking off for their transfer to Georgia.
Sahir comes on screen, describing how the US president is reversing his country
’s previous stances, committing the US to honoring NATO agreements and defending Turkey. Stock footage shows F-35 fighters as Sahir explains that three squadrons of America’s top fighters are in transit to Incrilek airbase in southern Turkey.
Peter is astonished at how quickly the world has descended to the brink of world war as the news moves to the ongoing issues in the South China Sea. However, the object of his astonishment changes as his eyes bug out when Mei enters the cabin.
Matching Rhonda perfectly as if they had talked this morning, on top of a coral silk blouse, appropriately buttoned up to her clavicle, she wears a black suit jacket made of the finest vicuna, with raspberry buttons and trim, and a matching pleated skirt that extends down nearly two inches below her knees. Black silk stockings down to black patent shoes with a one-inch heel and a raspberry accented bow. And behind her sleek black-framed glasses, wireless around the bottoms of the lenses, her eyes peek out from under lids adorned with neutral brown smoky eye shadow. Her hair up in a tight professional bun, she asks, “Do you like, Mr. Gollinger?”
He smiles. “I think that’s you. The woman who you want to be and who you are.”
“Why, thank you, Peter,” she says as she touches her earlobes. “But I meant how do you like my earrings?”
His eyes become instantly smitten. Visual lust runs rampant when he sees on her ears, of all things, little yellow banana slug earrings with bright raspberry spots and eyes. Peter grows weak in the knees at seeing his mascot adorning her ears.
*
He stands in awe of the MoxWorld EU HQ campus, surrounded by much greater acreage than the US office, a clearing in the forest. This time, the dark monolith stands outside the front entrance, surrounded by a pool and fountain. But this monolith, a fourth larger than the one in San Francisco, dominates the senses. Is this how the man he is to meet dominates the world, by dominating the senses with something greater than all of them?
Mei leads him inside. As before, Peter sees no guards, no reception desk, only screens showing the different news anchors of MoxMedia broadcasting their stories from across the globe. The US Sixth Fleet is being readied in Naples to sail towards the conflict in the Black Sea. Peter looks at all the female news anchors, worldwide, who all dress in the same color schemes as do Mei and Rhonda, wear the same lipstick and eye shadow, same coral dress or top, same earring color.
The Matriarch Matrix Page 15