“Who did you shadow?” Hunter asked.
“I don’t know. Neither of us knew. Didn’t Pollock tell you that part?”
“Oh, no … he didn’t.” Hunter had to think quickly. “It didn’t dawn on me to ask. His version was so boring. I didn’t want to hear more.”
“I bet. What a fucking tool,” Schaffer smirked.
“Right.”
“But yeah, the subject was chosen at random, and we weren’t supposed to know who he was. He didn’t know what the project was about. We created a partition in the lab so he couldn’t see us and we couldn’t see him. He didn’t know he was being shadowed. We wanted the realest, truest experience we could have. The subject still doesn’t know he’s been Veiled. I could probably figure out who he was by piecing together enough information, but his actual identity—his name—didn’t get disclosed during my shadowing.”
“Interesting,” Hunter said and flipped over onto his back. That time he positioned himself like Schaffer, with his hands clasped across his chest while staring up at the ceiling.
“I wish I could explain it. It can’t be put it into words. Afterwards I felt like I was at this point. Like right before history. Like history was about to start, and I got a taste of it before it actually started.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, really. It felt like it was something so massive, so grand that it can’t possibly be contained. I felt like the experience I had could change everything for everyone. That’s what was so frustrating about hearing Pollock’s version of his Veil. He acted like it was some friggen virtual reality video game. When really … I mean … fundamentally it’s life changing.”
“Did you say friggen again?” Hunter quipped and elbowed Schaffer in the ribs. They both laughed.
The situation wasn’t too bad. He’d done far more and far worse for much less in the past. Hell, he slept with a girl once, so he could steal one of her Prodigy CDs. Back when people still had CDs. Back when The Prodigy was still underground and not an embarrassment to have in his music library.
He would’ve preferred sleeping with Pollock. Pollock was at least attractive and built and short. Short guys were usually packing and Pollock sported a decent looking bulge. Besides, he was pretty certain with the right amount of effort and the right kind of coaxing, he could’ve had Pollock.
Eh, there was just too much highway to travel to get things with Pollock moving in that direction. Too much buddying up, too much drinking together and hanging out, too much talking about pussy and sports—all to get Pollock comfortable in that way. The way that made straight guys comfortable because, if they were messing around with another straight guy, then for some reason it was somehow magically so much less “gay” that they still got to consider themselves “straight.”
Good lord, the nuances of masculinity were oh so predictably common.
For Hunter, all guys were so easy that it was boring, and guys like Schaffer were the easiest. Sure, he could eventually get the information he wanted from Pollock. There was no doubt about it. But, Pollock was so dense that Hunter would have to work too long to conjure up the kinds of conversations that would eventually divulge the information Hunter was seeking. And all that work after already having to work so long just to get his dick down Pollock’s throat. It simply wasn’t worth it.
Time is of the motherfucking essence, faggots.
Schaffer, on the other hand, fancied himself as smart and insightful. He approached every conversation as a way to prove and affirm himself. No conversation would seem forced with someone like that. You could bring up anything, any time, and if they questioned it or seemed suspicious, there was always a way to turn it back around on them. You could fly guys like Schaffer like a “friggen” kite. And the whole time you were flying them, all you needed to do was sit there and blow wind up their ass because they were too busy making everything about themselves anyway.
Jesus, Hunter thought, if anyone ever Veiled me, they’d think I was one sick fuck. The thought amused him.
“I’m messing with you. It really does sound incredible. You’re right, life-changing. Who knows, maybe it’s the future. You were so damn lucky to get to do it,” Hunter buttered Schaffer.
“Yeah, I know. And I was thinking the other day. You know how when we used your device and it extracted both subjects’ neuroelectricity from Subject Two?”
“Yes. Of course I know,” Hunter responded flatly.
“I mean, it’s not about that, but it got me thinking. I was wondering, when you upload the Witness of the person who will be performing the shadowing, why doesn’t the brain of the subject they’re being uploaded onto … ummm … like…” Schaffer stumbled. His words weren’t able to keep up with his thoughts.
“How come the subject’s brain doesn’t absorb the information in the shadower’s Witness?”
“Exactly!” Schaffer snapped his fingers and pointed at Hunter.
“That’s actually a good question. The theory states that, although a Witness can receive information from any brain, a brain can only receive information from a Witness it created, from its own neuroelectricity. Each Witness has a distinct signature, a fingerprint if you will. Like a lock and key. A brain will only accept information from a key that perfectly fits its lock.”
“Ok, can’t say I understand why that’s the case at all, but I understand what you’re saying,” Schaffer conceded.
“Hell, I don’t understand why the brain does half the shit it does. But to me it makes sense as a system overall,” Hunter genuinely sympathized.
“I guess it makes sense. I guess I have to believe in it, since the design works. One more thing and that’s it, I swear.”
“Ok,” Hunter replied. He hoped it really was Schaffer’s last goddamn question, and not the beginning of an endless string. He spent entire days in the lab answering questions from Schaffer and Pollock.
“Why don’t the electrical currents mix? Like, why don’t they combine or join or whatever? I would think electricity would stream together if the currents got close to each other.”
“Well, we’re talking about a neural network here; we’re not talking about Proton Packs whose streams can’t cross each other or something like that. The Witness is a closed network. The Witness is self-insulated, that’s really the only way I know how to put it. I can barely explain it to myself,” Hunter finished in an attempt to indicate he was running out of answers.
“Frak, this shit is complicated. It makes sense after I think about it but, damn, it’s complicated as hell. It makes me feel friggen stupid. Fucking stupid, I mean.”
“I know right. He must’ve been fucking brilliant,” Hunter fished.
“Who?”
“The guy who created it, ummm … I can’t remember his name.” And then to throw him off, since he already knew Schaffer never worked with the guy, “It must’ve been crazy to work with him. Jesus.”
“Oh, Dr. Jin Tsay, yeah. I mean, no, we never worked with him, they just handed us the project. The General made us scrub the guy’s name from the whole thing. But yeah, we were definitely lucky. Veil is literally all I can think about since that day.”
“Gensay … that’s right.”
Having finally received the final bit of information he set out to get, Hunter jumped off the bed, turned toward Schaffer and asked, “So, you hungry or you wanna get off again real quick?
6
RECIPROCITY
They didn’t speak about it all day, which seemed odd. He figured neither of them wanted to be the first to bring it up. That made sense. It couldn’t have been comfortable. However, there was no reason for anyone to be embarrassed. Or feel uneasy. Not if they were going to have to work together so closely. Still, he didn’t want to bring it up. Thankfully, he didn’t have to.
“I want to thank you.”
“Thank me? What do you mean?” he asked and looked up from a set of papers. The same set of papers he repeatedly reviewed for at least an hour. Maybe
longer. Maybe he did it to avoid interaction. To avoid talking.
“Thank you for what you did. How you explained the Veil. What you showed me.”
“Oh,” he started. He suddenly realized what they were talking about. Almost an entire day passed, without any mention of it, so he wasn’t sure if it was too touchy, too soon. Too awkward. “Of course. Of course. I’m still trying to understand it all myself, to be honest. I mean, I have everything I need. But, I can’t wrap my head around it all.”
“Me either,” she sighed and placed a cup of tea in front of him. She was careful not to place it on the papers. She sat down in a chair next to him and talked while she gazed out a window across the table. “Now that I think about it, a few weeks before he—before Jin disappeared, I did notice he was acting differently. He seemed more loving. You know, he was paying more attention to me, being more affectionate. At first, I was worried. The stupid kind of worry a wife gets when her husband’s behavior changes,” she paused and took a sip of tea. “But I knew Jin, so I figured he felt guilty. He worried about me. Too much time with him away at the lab, not enough attention for me. An empty house with only me in it.” She paused again, not to take a drink but not on the verge of tears, either. “He wanted me to be happy. He worried about how happy I was. So, I figured that’s all it had been. I should have paid more attention. I had him right there. All that love, right there. And what did I do?” she stopped. She didn’t continue. Her question was rhetorical; he knew she already answered it to herself. That was probably all she did that day, over and over.
“You did what everyone does. You were just going on with your day-to-day life. You didn’t know what happened. You didn’t know what he experienced and how deeply it must’ve affected him. Changed him. How could you have known? You didn’t do anything wrong. You did what everyone does.”
“Yeah…” she sighed, uncertain.
“And besides, Suren,” he said her name so she’d look at him, “you’d already given him something. He was acting like that toward you precisely because of what you gave him. What he experienced through you. So don’t sit there and tell me that you didn’t give him enough. You gave him life. First when he met you, then when you married him and then once again, on the day he Veiled you. That’s when he knew what your love for him meant to you. You gave him more than any wife has ever been able to give her husband.”
A single tear streamed down her cheek, and she stared out the window again.
It wasn’t Ken’s goal to make her relive all that, so he changed it up and went for the extreme. “Fuck stupid ass children, I’d take what you gave him over having kids any day. Jin died a happy man. A happy man in love who felt loved in return. Who needs kids when you’ve got that?”
Suren cackled. Her expression lightened and she took another drink of tea. A little more that time, since it cooled some.
“I never noticed but my memory from around that time is so hazy. I don’t understand. Not simply that day, but around that whole time.”
“That’s one thing that was bugging me.” Ken perked up and moved some papers around. He dug one of Jin’s notebooks from underneath the stack and continued. “Because there was nothing about memory alteration within the official Veil documents, so I read through a bunch of his notebooks and there was a lot of ideas in them that weren’t in any of the Veil files.”
“Jin was always writing in those things,” Suren chuckled. “It used to drive me crazy. He’d pull one out no matter where we were.”
“Trust me, I know. Before he met you, he’d pull them out at a bar, when I was trying to get us laid.”
“Oh, Ken!” Suren laughed and slapped at his arm.
“Oh come on, can you see Jin leaving a bar with a woman? Sleeping with her? A woman he just met? You know it never happened. Not once.”
“Not for lack of you trying to get him to though, I’m sure.” She put her hand on his shoulder and used it as support to stand up. She headed for the kitchen. “And I’m sure you left plenty of bars with plenty of girls back then. And a few boys, no doubt.”
“Hey now!” He darted his head around to see if she was joking, but her back was to him.
“I’ve heard stories, too. Kinky Ken they called you.” She kept at him. “Kinky Ken getting kinky with men,” she taunted.
“Now wait a minute, what does that mean?” He rose and turned toward the kitchen. He became sincerely riled rather quickly. “I never once in my life. With a man? Really—never!”
In the kitchen, Suren set down the cup of tea and buckled over. She covered her mouth, put her other hand on her stomach, and fought back a laugh.
“Oh that’s not funny!” he barked.
By the time Suren turned around she was in full laughter.
“Trying to get Jin laid, I should poke you in the eye,” she pointed at him, then grabbed a rag and snapped it at him playfully. He snatched the rag, used it to pull her to him, and they hugged innocently.
“You were his best friend, Ken.”
He kissed the top of her head, held her by her cheeks and looked her in the eyes.
“You were the only woman Jin ever loved.”
She hugged him again. She turned her head to the side and rested it on his chest. She didn’t know how her heart would ever stop bleeding over the loss of her Jin.
After a few moments, Ken grabbed Suren by the shoulders, pushed her back gently, looked in her eyes and asked, “Seriously though, did they really call me Kinky Ken?”
Suren escaped his grasp and danced around the kitchen. She laughed to the point of tears, while she sang over and over, “Kinky Ken, Kinky Ken, Kinky Ken…”
She eventually kicked him out of the kitchen so she could prepare dinner. He went back to the table and sorted through more of Jin’s notebooks and papers. When Suren brought out plates of food, Ken pushed aside the documents to make room for their dinner that, to a bachelor like him, smelled richer and more savory than any food any restaurant ever served. He knew Jin realized what a lucky man he was but times like that made Ken wonder if Jin ever truly realized precisely how lucky he was. Ken got up and went to the kitchen to grab utensils.
“So what I was saying,” he started up again, “before I was so rudely interrupted by your sick humor, was that there’s a lot of information in Jin’s notebooks. A lot. I’ve been going through as much of it as I can, trying to incorporate what all is there into the Veil files where it fits. He had a lot of ideas and theories he wasn’t able to test out, some of it that I think could prove useful. But anyway,” he went on as he carried the utensils to the table, “some of the stuff was about memory. How to use the Veil process itself to create markers in a subject’s brain and then later target all the memories between those markers with an amnesia-inducing chemical. All you’d have to do is give someone a shot or a pill and they’d forget whatever occurred between those two markers. It wasn’t included in the Veil stuff because it wasn’t relevant to the military. It was pretty clear that’s what he used to … well, you know.”
“Veil me.”
“Yes,” Ken tried to respond sensitively. “What he used to Veil you without putting you in harm’s way.”
“Well that’s one way to put it,” she quipped.
“Hey, I’m trying here.”
“I know, I know. So what’s it mean?”
“Honestly I don’t know right now, but I’m still going through a lot of it. I hope to get everything compiled into something I can use myself within a few days. The next step would be to find a lab where I can get started on the real work. I can’t use Jin’s old lab, obviously.”
“Obviously,” she agreed and took a bite of food.
“There were other notes, too, and one development Jin seems to have intentionally left out of the official Veil files. But, I could be reading into it, you know?”
Suren nodded while she finished chewing and then answered him after she swallowed and took a sip of water.
“Jin wasn’t an exceptionally cunning
man. He didn’t think like that,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, true. Secretive, sure. But, no manipulative forethought,” he agreed.
“Then again, I never thought he would’ve … to me,” she backtracked and looked at her plate while she toyed with her food.
“Totally different. Totally.”
Suren shrugged, got up from the table and went to the kitchen.
“Anyway, what was it?” she asked.
“Oh yeah, well, it was how he could accomplish your Veil without any outside assistance. Because, you know, he’d need to be on life-support at that point. Once his neuroelectricity was removed and transferred to you.”
Suren stopped. She didn’t turn her body but twisted her head and looked back at Ken.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah—I didn’t think of that,” she frowned. She thought about it for a moment and then resumed what she was doing.
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