The Matriarch Matrix

by Maxime Trencavel

  She shakes her head, thinking about something else, a question she has asked for so long. “I do not think we worship the same God, you, me, or them. I only know that Peter worships no god, and he is lost. How can the same God lead to so many different, disparate, and conflicting outcomes?”

  And Jean-Paul gently and carefully kneels and prays, for her lost soul.

  In the truck, Peter is fishing on his MoxWrap for buses, taxis, trains, and planes that could take him home from this desolate place of bombs, scorpions, and wild boars. No luck—he is stuck here. He searches for his photos of Sarah. Had he just shown her the type of love she was looking for, maybe he would not have been in this situation, alone and soon to be dead. As he searches his photo archives, he spots it. The answer.

  “Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul, the parchment. It’s the answer,” Peter yells, leaping out of Zara’s poor battered truck. “Look again. The Hs, they’re the same ones we saw all over Göbekli Tepe. An H just like the one above the giant with Zara’s pendant, two people holding hands. I saw this woman in my dream last night. She prayed at the object, surrounded by wild boar.”

  Jean-Paul looks again on his MoxWrap at the same parchment pictures and says, “That would be Enclosure C, populated by dozens of boar reliefs.” He ponders the third figure, pointing at a sixty-degree angle away from the tail of the bird star.

  “You may have something, Peter,” says Jean-Paul, who puts a reassuring arm around him. “Peter, you must remember your strengths. You are not here because of your behavior under fire. Most people would have reacted like you with bombs exploding all around them. Your reactions were normal. You are here because of your ability to do things like this, pulling together many disparate ideas, thoughts, and your dreams. In this, you are rare and valuable. You must always tell yourself this.”

  And the warm and fuzzy Peter needed to regain his inner spirit is sprinkled on his soul like a refreshing rain in the desert.

  “Jean-Paul, what does the parchment’s cuneiform say?” Peter asks.

  “It is a very ancient form of Akkadian dialect. We could not translate it. It may be coded.”

  “What do you mean, coded?” asks Peter.

  “The characters may have been scrambled. If it is, it is not a simple scramble, as our computing power could not discern the pattern,” answers Jean-Paul.

  “Priest, your EM unit has been damaged,” Zara yells from the back of her truck.

  “Yes, I saw the damage. The other one is still functional.”

  She walks over and says, “I have lost our perimeter sensors, and my security base unit is damaged as well. We are not in a good situation here.” She stares into his eyes and says, “Let us be blunt here, the mission is a failure. Those thousand-pound munitions could penetrate three to four meters into the ground, maybe more in soft soil. If there was an object, it is now destroyed.”

  Jean-Paul looks at his MoxPad+ and replies, “I am not so sure. If Peter’s dream was right, the object was in Enclosure C. If it was, I can verify how its presence there manifested on the EM signatures. His parchment might suggest the object was moved. That third figure is pointing for a reason. Perhaps the cuneiform contains the answer. Mais hélas, we cannot translate it. Merde.” And the good priest, swearing in French, belies the depths of his frustrations.

  “Then we are lost,” says Zara. “We should abandon the search, as this ridge we are on will soon become the battle line between the Kurds and the AC. Jean-Paul, who do you think bombed us? Twice now, once at Siirt airport and again here. I looked at Alexander’s historical satellite records, and five different nations had aircraft in the region at the time of the temple’s destruction.”

  “Given our conversation before, one might think the AC has been influenced by their ultraorthodox factions to destroy it as a non-Islamic religious site. But I do not think so. Someone does not want us to find the object.”

  Zara turns to look at the horizon, towards the smoking ruins of Göbekli Tepe. “Do you think it was Alexander?”

  Jean-Paul was going to give a reflexive answer, but stopped to ponder her proposition. “If he did, why would he send us all the way here, only to bomb us?”

  With eyes squinted, Zara replies, “Maybe he has already processed your information and knew the object was there. Think about it—who would be able to decipher exactly where we are at any time? He could have easily fielded a second or third team analyzing our data and your EM feeds. He could easily call up the Americans, the Russians, and have them both bomb us.”

  “Yours is a special relationship with him. Why would you distrust him?” asks the good Father.

  “I learned the hard way to trust no one. And so have my people,” says Zara. “And for the record, I do not trust you either. Why would the pope let you leave the Order? I can easily see that your interest here is to remove the object from world’s access and secure it for the Vatican. Know I have my eyes on you.”

  Trying to make light of the situation, Jean-Paul jests, “I am deeply relieved you do not think His Eminence ordered the bombing of an important religious site.”

  “But I do think we need to be very careful in our use of any connective tech,” says Zara. “I will give you until tomorrow to examine your data. Only pull the satellite EM data you need, and do not allow your devices to interact with Alexander’s fuller system. We can trust no one.”

  Zara looks at Peter, who is fixated on his MoxWrap and says, “If I had to bet, the Chinese used the AC to bomb us both times. If it’s not Alexander, then the person who would have the most access to his systems, other than the two of us, is Mei.”

  Jean-Paul raises his hand, ready to defend his Chinese protégée, but Zara stops his interjection. “I know you think the world of her, for more noble reasons than does our silly Peter. But let us be objective. How do we exclude her from being the mole? And if she is the mole, is not Peter’s family in danger?”

  Respecting her logic, Jean-Paul reflects and says, “You did not tell Peter, did you, that she was assigned the security detail for her family?”

  “No, I thought knowing so might have distracted him. He has the most difficult time staying focused to begin with.”

  “Then we should contact her,” says Jean-Paul. “She may possess more information on the parchment, which would help us determine if the object was moved from Göbekli Tepe. And we can scan her to determine if she is any threat to his family.”

  Zara smiles at the good priest. She likes how his mind works. Same as hers. She calls for Peter to come over.

  “Remember when I told you a trusted team had been dispatched to ensure your family’s security?” asks Zara.

  Peter nods yes, so anxious to see Mei again, he would say yes to anything.

  “Mei is leading this team. Someone who you trust implicitly. I am going to contact her to assess the situation there. Jean-Paul will ask her about the parchment. And you can briefly talk with your family. Here are the strict operating rules. No discussion of the object, other than that we are searching for it. No discussion of our location at Göbekli Tepe or otherwise. I have activated location obfuscation tech so they will not be able to find us. Violate any of these and you will lead us to our deaths. Bombs could fall again within a matter of minutes of you slipping up. Can you follow these guidelines to the letter, Little Boy?”

  Peter looks to Jean-Paul, then back to Zara. He takes a deep breath and nods yes.

  “Okay, here we go. Jean-Paul, ready on scanning her responses,” Zara commands.

  Using her MoxWrap, Zara connects with Mei, only showing her a headshot with a view of the sky above to hide their location. “Mei, are you in a secure place to talk?”

  With no makeup or earrings, simply in a black t-shirt and ponytail braided with a metallic design, Mei answers, “We are very secure here.”

  Zara asks, “How is the op going there? Peter was fretting about his family.”

  “I was worried about you three. I saw the bombings near the target. Are you intact? Is
the temple intact?”

  With her mission face on, Zara replies, “Mei, we believe we have been compromised. As such, I cannot discuss our details, other than that the three of us are very much alive.” She looks at Jean-Paul, who is monitoring Mei’s biometrics, voice, and body movements against her norms in his database. He gives a thumbs-up.

  Zara asks, “Is there anything abnormal on your end? Is there any reason to believe we have been compromised from your and Peter’s time in San Francisco? From his family?”

  With an equally serious face, Mei responds, “Negative. Only Harlan, myself, Alexander, and Jean-Paul had access to Peter’s interview. Harlan is on a special assignment. His job interviewing possible affliction candidates came to an abrupt halt when we verified Peter. Have only talked to Alexander once, confirming our security details here were in place. I’m with Peter’s grandfather and his sister. I’ve checked out the doctor who was overly interested in Peter as well. She may be legit. However, she is not to be found around here, so I’m not completely sure of her. Something about her going to Boston for her book. She had access to the parchment. I have a team in Cambridge following her every move. My other security detail is with his mother. Everyone’s fine.”

  Without a flinch, Zara goes for the jugular. “Mei, who did you talk to in China? What is it they want from us?”

  Her eyes squinting and mouth grimacing, Mei responds, “You do not trust me, do you?”

  “I do not trust anyone right now. Only Peter. He is too silly, innocently so, to be up to anything,” says Zara, putting her hand up to shush Peter’s objections. She looks at Jean-Paul, who gives another thumbs-up. “Miss Jasmine Fragrance, answer my question, who did you talk with?”

  “My mother, about her dress my tailor is making. My father, about fixing the car I bought him. And my doorman, about holding my mail,” Mei replies. “Are you happy now?”

  Jean-Paul gives another thumbs-up and taps his MoxWrap to switch the screen to him. “Hello, Mei. Were you able to interview the grandfather?”

  “Hi, Jean-Paul. I miss you. Yes, I have. He won’t talk to anyone except Peter. Not even to his granddaughter. Patriarchal bigotry at its finest. All he wants is for me to demonstrate my command of the algorithms on him.” Peter’s eyes bug out when he hears that.

  “Did he allow you to examine the parchment?” Jean-Paul asks.

  “Yes, I did a scan of both sides as you asked. I found inscriptions hidden on the back side. Likely wine vinegar ink to make the writing invisible to the normal spectrum,” Mei replies, putting the inscriptions up on her MoxWrap screen. “As you requested, I didn’t send them, out of concern about the security breach.”

  “Perfect. It’s a shift code key, as we suspected. A very complex and sophisticated one for that era. Good work, Mei, as always,” the good Father affirms. “I will switch you to Peter, who is anxiously waiting to talk with you again.”

  Zara holds Peter’s MoxWrap to show only his head and the sky and taps his device to show Mei, who has put her beautiful shining smile back on for Peter.

  “Oh, Mei,” exclaims Peter, who is near teary-eyed. “How I’ve missed you. I wish so terribly you were here…” And Zara steps on his foot before he can say where. Bathing in a sea of warm and fuzzies at seeing Mei again, Peter confesses, “I’m ready to come back and sit next to you, editing your genetics history papers.”

  “Peter, my special, special banana slug man. I miss you too. I’m heading back to your grandfather’s room. I have a special surprise for you waiting with him.” Mei winks with that special smile of hers, which simply melts Peter’s heart and warms something lower down.

  Now very curious, Peter says, “Surprise? Who could it be? My mother?” And then he imagines Sarah. Oh, how awkward would that be? And on the screen comes Michaela next to Mei, dressed in the same black t-shirt and braided ponytail. He notices his sister’s mark, though. They both feature metallic designs interwoven in their hair. So very Michaela.

  “Hi there, big bro. Your friend here is a real pip. How did you meet someone who’s so connected with the Shanghai-Paris Fashion Institute? She got the university to give me credit interning with her tailors here in Chinatown. She brought me here in that fancy jet of hers.” And Peter is relieved to see his little sister is doing so well and seemingly taken care of by his Mei.

  “And your friend here, she appears so eloquent, but she’s really very wicked. Oh, how she has told stories about your sexual exploits with her,” Michaela beams, with Mei just giving one of her sweet smiles next to her. Peter is highly embarrassed and gives a look of utter innocence to Zara, who has her not-so-nice face on.

  He says, “Michaela, you must understand. Mei embellishes things a lot. I mean, we never. I mean, never.”

  “You should have heard her go on and on at Ma’s house. By the way, your Mrs. Harrison dropped by. She says she is doing fine. Her husband agreed to amend their divorce papers so she doesn’t need to pay alimony to him. Funny what being charged with attempted rape does to a man’s perspective. You are her hero. Oh, yes. Her daughter decided to accept UC Santa Cruz’s offer. Personally, I can’t see why, but she was so impressed by what that school did for you, she said it was an obvious choice for her.”

  Peter asks, “Mei, our mother, she’s safe too?”

  “Yes, and she is so delicious. Just like you and your wonderful sister here. I’m more concerned about my security detail than her. She’s been trying to coax them into giving her leg massages, and they are scared. Not that your mother isn’t attractive. They’re worried about being worn out by her.”

  Zara finally snickers. She is starting to get the picture about this Gollinger family.

  And then Peter hears his pappy in the background. He asks Mei, “Would it be possible for me to have a private conversation with my grandfather?”

  And Mei, still hurting from having so much fun, says, “Of course, Mr. Peter Gollinger. I have not had so much fun in my life until I met you and your gorgeous little banana slugs. Your sister and I will leave the room. I would like to say goodbye to you after you finish with Pappy. What a cute name you and your sister gave him.” And with that, she transfers him to Pappy’s MoxWrap.

  “Peter, my boy,” says Pappy, taking his oxygen mask off. “Your little friend is perfect.”

  “Pappy, you look good. Mei said you’ve been asking for her to demonstrate her command of her comforting skills. What exactly did you ask her to do?”

  “My boy, nothing she has not done for you,” Pappy answers slyly.

  “That’s terrible, Pappy. She’s young enough to be your granddaughter. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Peter, my boy, when you get to be my age, you must get your little pleasures in life any way, anytime you can. The end could come, and before you know it, you missed out,” his grandfather answers sagely.

  Zara is just smiling now. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in this family either. And Peter is more assured now that she is smiling.

  “Pappy, listen to me. This is very serious. Did you tell Mei anything you haven’t told me?” Peter asks with a concerned face. Zara nods that is the right question, as she still does not trust her, despite Jean-Paul’s high science metrics.

  “No, my boy. Those things are between the men in our family who suffer the dreams.”

  “Good, Pappy. Good. Remember when you told me about what you and your father did during the war?”

  “Yes, my boy. Why do you ask?” Pappy answers with apprehension in his voice.

  Peter peers at Zara, and with shame in his eyes, he asks, “Your father, my great-grandfather, he was a Nazi, wasn’t he?”

  Very surprised, his grandfather meekly answers, “Yes, he was, Peter. And not proud of it. Nor am I. How did you find out? You can understand why we don’t talk about this.”

  “How I found out isn’t important, Pappy. He worked in Himmler’s Ahnenerbe unit. He committed suicide so he wouldn’t face prosecution for war crimes. Am I not right?”
asks Peter with the most serious face that Zara has seen on him yet, no longer the little boy.

  Pappy glances down and nods.

  “What did he do that would have made him a war criminal, Pappy? I deserve to know.”

  Pappy stares at Peter with a grim face and says, “Peter, listen to me. He did nothing but be an archeologist studying our affliction. But his unit was not so noble. They committed heinous experiments on Ukrainians and Crimeans, looking for their so-called alien genes. My father even tried to save some of them. Please do not judge him, Peter. I can only hope that you can clear his name. Our family name.” And Pappy cries for the first time in Peter’s life.

  Pappy is clearly in distress and puts back on his oxygen mask, which he answers through. “Peter, please, you must find the object. Even if I die first, you must find it and show the world we were not criminals.”

  Realizing the truth and depth of what Alexander told him, Peter asks, “But, Pappy, you have his secrets, don’t you?”

  Taking his mask off, his grandfather replies, “When I die, Peter. When I die. Then you will know.” He puts his mask back on and asks Mei and Michaela to come back.

  Michaela screams when she sees her pappy. “Peter, what have you done to him? He’s dying. I’ve got to get a nurse.” And she runs out of the room.

  Mei comes on the screen. “Peter, he isn’t in good shape, but it wasn’t your conversation. He’s been deteriorating more quickly this week. He asked me to tell you he would die in peace if he knew you found the object. I know you cannot tell me what the situation is, but I thought you should know that.” She pauses as Peter internalizes that information. Zara squeezes his hand, the first act of true compassion he has felt from her since she first mended his head wound in that prayer room in Luxembourg.

  “Don’t worry, Peter. Your sister and I will take care of your pappy. Concentrate on what you and Zara need to do to find the object.” She gives him an air-kiss and signs off.

  Tears have welled up in Peter’s eyes. He looks at Zara’s hand in his and squeezes her back. She has seen a very different side of this little boy, this man who is only hiding his own deep hurts behind his silliness. She hugs him. A big deep bear hug. And he hugs back. The warm and fuzzies he has so been needing, finally here.