Veil

by Aaron Overfield

  “Yup, it was gnawing at me. And in Jin’s notebooks he describes a method that seamlessly and artificially replaces all the neuroelectricity in the person doing the shadowing. It allows them to function while their Witness is performing a Veil. Not merely enough to keep them alive, you know? Enough for them to operate, like nothing had changed. When their Witness gets uploaded back onto their brain the artificial neuroelectricity is discharged as the original neuroelectricity gets restored.”

  “So Jin was awake when I left the lab?” she asked and returned with two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine.

  “Yup, and he was awake when you came back,” Ken answered. He stood and took the wine bottle and corkscrew out of Suren’s hand. She sat down, put the wine glasses on the table, and watched him uncork the bottle and pour them both a glass. She remembered how Jin was always the one who poured the wine, too. She wondered if pouring wine was something men assumed they were supposed to do, because they were men. Like carving the turkey.

  “Why would he leave that out? That seems like a good thing,” she wondered.

  “Can’t figure it out for the life of me,” Ken replied and sat down. He raised his glass and tilted it toward Suren in mock-cheers. She returned the gesture and they took a drink before Ken continued. “All I can figure is for the military, for spying, there was no reason they would need that ummm … feature in Veil.”

  “So he wouldn’t have been working on it in the lab.”

  “Exactly,” he agreed. “Same with the memory manipulation. Which is why those things are only in his notebooks.”

  “Well crap,” she laughed. “I think that deserves another drink of wine.” They took large sips and smiled at each other. “So are you going to include all the extra features from his notebooks?” Suren asked. Hearing herself say that caused her to laugh again before she added, “Listen to me, it sounds like we’re talking about buying a car.”

  Ken laughed back and drank more wine. “Right. I don’t think ‘feature’ is the best word, either. It sounded good at the time. But to answer the question, yes, I’m going to try to include as much of the total sum of Jin’s theories as I can. But,” he emphasized and raised his fork, “only if I can do it without losing too much time in the process.”

  “Losing too much time?”

  “Well lady,” he explained as the wine began to loosen them both, “we don’t know how far the military has come with whatever they got their hands on in Jin’s lab. It’s safe to say we know what they intend to do with it. However, we don’t know how far they’ve gotten with it.”

  “Does that matter?”

  “Oh, no. But I’d like to … how’d you put it … ummm … share it with the world. Before they get a chance to use it against someone. That’d probably really piss them off royally.”

  No matter how much they joked or played around since Ken’s arrival, nothing made Suren smile like that did. That, and the wine.

  With the combined research, theory and methodology of Veil, plus the periphery studies kept tucked away in the notebooks, Ken soon discovered there was little Jin didn’t map out concerning the nature of the brain. All Ken needed to do was compile everything into one logical, useable archive that could guide the development of the technology and all the ways it could be implemented. It was quite a feat and essentially the equivalent of a lifelong academic quest. The scope of Jin’s work included: postulating and transcribing an entire philosophy; producing schematics for a piece of technology capable of bringing that philosophy to life; writing a full textbook about how the philosophy and technology intersected; and then developing a manual detailing how to program and operate the technology correctly.

  Luckily for Ken, his old partner completed most of the work. All Ken did was separate it into categories, beef it up with missing parts from Jin’s notebooks and Ken’s own knowledge of the field, and organize it in a way that would allow Ken to access it efficiently. Jin and Ken had very different ways of going about things. While both were valid, without Jin there to passively demand they do things his way, to which Ken always acquiesced, he was free to do things his own way.

  In a little over two weeks, Ken finalized his multi-volume digital “Encyclopedia Veil” and, with Suren’s assistance, located the space for his lab. Getting the lab set up wasn’t as difficult as Ken predicted. When it came to the construction of Veil’s hardware and the programming of the system, Jin mapped out everything in great detail. All Ken needed to do was assemble all the parts.

  One thing about Suren he always suspected but never experienced personally was how adept she was at identifying and addressing someone’s needs before they even knew what they needed. He chalked it up to her studies in education but also recognized it must be something innate in her, something in her character. Even when it came to the lab, she obtained things Ken needed but that he never asked of her; she obtained things he needed when she probably didn’t know how to use them or, more likely, their purpose.

  Despite Suren’s immense helpfulness, it was nowhere near close to a replacement for Jin. That was one thing he didn’t know how Jin accomplished: Jin could do all the work alone. No help at all. That wasn’t Ken and Ken knew it. Part of being the heart of the team meant an aspect of Ken needed other people, if only to gauge himself. And, when working on the project, Ken didn’t simply need other people, he needed Jin.

  Suren insisted Ken stay at the house, so she could care for him while he worked day-in and day-out, often over fifteen hours a day. For Ken, living with Suren still wasn’t the same thing as having a partner. After long hours alone in the lab, Ken frequently became overwhelmed by waves of doubt, which left him feeling lost and directionless.

  When that happened, he wasted hours in the lab redoing work over and over. He would doubt one small piece of the process and would feel as though that one piece meant everything he was doing was flawed. It somehow meant Veil was flawed. Suren found herself performing a new role some evenings and spent a great deal of time providing Ken with reassurance and encouragement. Although he knew she’d never admit it, Ken could tell Suren pitied his insecurity and thought him a lesser man than Jin for it. He couldn’t blame her.

  While Ken wanted to claim he personally added a great deal to Veil, most of what he contributed was merely incorporating all Jin’s cursory, peripheral theories. Because of Jin’s unique focus and the pressures on him from the military, it was understandable how he’d let some theories regarding the potentials of Veil fall to the wayside. Perhaps he saved them so they could be revisited at a time when Veil was fully developed, accepted, and solidified. Maybe when it wasn’t some classified, top-secret project. Unfortunately, Ken lamented, Jin was naive enough to believe the military would ever let Veil, or Jin, out from under their thumb.

  Even if the use might lead to questionable ethics, Ken included Jin’s memory manipulation technique, which Jin’s test-Veil on Suren proved was a legitimate inclusion. Heck, Ken figured, a lot of Veil could be considered questionable—including Veil itself. Another addition was Jin’s theory that vibrations within the Witness could be singled out and muted or enhanced, such as the technique Jin included to mute physical response to prohibit unwanted bodily movement during the Veil process. Since much of it could prove quite beneficial down the road, Ken went ahead and included Jin’s theories on the different ways the vibrations could be muted or enhanced to achieve different desired results.

  Jin left out several types of those additions, due to his restrictions and limitations. Perhaps they were excluded because he lacked the time to explore and flesh out every single one. Without the same restrictions, Ken could assemble what he thought was the most inclusive, complete version. It was one he considered Jin’s true vision of Veil.

  Sure, he explained to Suren, some of those things might naturally evolve into the process down the road as the technology permeated society, but why not give Veil a nice, hearty send off? One of which the military would be proud. Suren gave it her big, happy seal o
f approval. Ken halfheartedly offered to title the entire project “Suren’s Revenge” but she declined with a grin. Encyclopedia Veil it was then.

  “Jin Tsay” was all Hunter needed. It was a bit confusing at first because “Jin Tsay,” the way Schaffer said it, sounded like one word, perhaps someone’s last name, “Gensay” or “Jensai” or any imaginable permeation of those syllables. Kind of like how, Hunter mused, pronounced a certain way, one might assume his name was “Ken Early.” He was pretty sure of one thing though: the name was Asian. Armed with the syllables of the name of an undoubtedly Asian doctor who researched in the field of neuroelectricity, Hunter was confident he had as much as he needed.

  Under intense scrutiny and perpetual surveillance, there was little he could do himself. He knew it wasn’t a matter of trust. He was certain he’d earned not only General Coffman’s approval but, more importantly, his trust. He saw to it. From day one, he concerned himself more with gaining the General’s trust than with any other part of the project. He knew without that trust, he’d be relegated to nothing more than another cog in the General’s wheel. No better than his other two “best guys.”

  So the attention wasn’t personal; everyone on the project was under the same surveillance, Schaffer and Pollock not excluded. And they knew it, too. Still, that didn’t make it any easier for Hunter. With his calls, messages, and computer all very likely being monitored, he needed to be creative in how he would access the outside world. It wasn’t as simple as going out and connecting to some wireless hotspot, or going to a library or internet cafe. Not only would that kind of movement raise suspicion, there was no guarantee any of those communications would be secure and not intercepted. No, he had to do it right under their noses and without any detectable gesture whatsoever.

  He couldn’t do anything inside the lab. While in the lab, Hunter couldn’t think about anything other than developing Veil, or he’d risk sending unintentional signals that something was up. He didn’t want to raise any red flags: anxiety, nervous eye-movements, or simply a change in body language that inevitably occurs when someone becomes too conscious of their body language. He needed to keep it completely out of his mind when anyone was around. So, the lab wouldn’t work.

  He was fairly sure there was one data network he could freely access: the data network through his cellphone. They might monitor the amount of his data usage as part of monitoring his overall activity but, even if they were monitoring the amount of his usage, they couldn’t monitor the content. At least, not with any kind of immediacy. Cellphones were not allowed in the lab and, although he spotted Pollock on his a few times, Hunter never so much as brought his phone with him. He used it some at night. The typical messages and calls, all quite normal. He surfed the internet a little, establishing what he imagined would appear to be pretty normal data usage for someone who was checking the weather, news, and sports scores. Not that he’d ever check a damn sports score in his life. Still, nothing out of the ordinary and precisely enough to establish a pattern of everyday, inconspicuous usage.

  There was one contact Hunter knew he could make using that data network. If somehow the military were able to tap into and monitor the content of his cellphone data usage, any communication with that particular contact would look about as suspicious as a game of Pong. Even to a trained eye, it would look like noise. The person already knew Hunter was contacted by the Department of Defense; he knew Hunter went there to work on some kind of project; he knew Hunter well enough not to ask any questions. Most importantly, it was someone Hunter could trust. The biggest kind of trust.

  Expecting a fourteen-year-old boy to look before they leap every time was like expecting them to use a condom every time. All anyone could do was teach him, send him out into the world, and cross their fingers. So, it was no one’s fault but his, and he knew it. All along he knew it and never blamed anyone else. He always tried, although sometimes unsuccessfully, not to be a victim. However, the accident was still very real and had very real consequences for Brock Elsbeth.

  Besides his parents, the only person who remained at his side since the accident was Hunter Kennerly. People came and went. He knew that was a fact of life and had very little to do with his condition. He remained realistic and figured his limitations made a lot of things inconvenient for others. Youth often despised inconvenience, so when Brock grew up, friends didn’t necessarily stick around long. Still, no matter how great the inconvenience, Hunter Kennerly was the one person that stayed aboard from “childhood friend,” to “friend,” to damn near brother, to one day becoming his doctor and no exaggeration, savior.

  Everyone else was already in the water, so it really didn’t occur to him. No one was even paying attention; it was simply his turn to dive. It wasn’t like they were all daring each other to do it. It wasn’t that high off the ground and they all dived off the same spot hundreds of times before. Besides, they were fourteen, so of course, they were invincible.

  Hunter was already in the water below. He was splashing some girl and being flirtatious, which was funny because … well … because it was Hunter. He knew what Hunter was before Hunter really knew; it wasn’t any big deal. He didn’t think Hunter understood that girls took things seriously. Like flirting. Girls took flirting seriously. Very seriously. Brock used to fear one day, gay or not, Hunter was going to lead on the wrong girl. Anyway, it was Brock’s turn to dive.

  He explained it so many times it became an autopilot monologue: I was fourteen. It was a split-second. My head hit something solid, and I knew right away something wasn’t right. I saw all these stars and I sank to the bottom. One of the guys finally pulled me up, but I couldn’t move. That was it.

  Oh, and at the end he always made sure to stress how it all happened really fast, because that was how people usually wanted his story to end. As if they took solace in hearing how maybe at least he didn’t suffer too much because it happened so quickly. Like when someone instantly died in an accident. Well, at least they didn’t suffer. Right. Suuuure.

  Brock’s brain wasn’t broken, only his body. Technically—despite what people thought by looking at him—not his entire body, only his spine. He still had motor functions and sensations, just no way for his brain to communicate through his spinal cord with the rest of his body beyond his shoulders. He suffered no brain damage whatsoever, and although people pitied him based on his appearance, chances were he was more intelligent than them. Not Stephen Hawking genius or anything, but still.

  No, I don’t have whatever the hell Stephen Hawking has.

  Brock was never one to believe Hunter worked so hard on the career path he chose due solely on their friendship or because of the accident. Did it probably influence Hunter’s interest and guide his passions? Sure. That was possible and it made sense. However, long before the accident, Brock already knew Hunter was different and not only because of the way he would always check out guys. Hunter was crazy smart. Too damn smart for his own good, Brock’s mom used to say.

  For a period of time, she was right. Back when Hunter was really wild and out of control. Brock always saw how Hunter had a lot of demons. Ironically, more demons than Brock could ever imagine. He used to joke how Hunter had the kind of genius where he could become a brain surgeon or a serial killer, depending on which way the scales tipped. The joke was they both knew it was true. If anything, Brock liked to imagine their friendship was simply one of the things that helped tip Hunter’s scales in the right direction. The good direction.

  Hunter’s trial-and-error technology was crude and painful at first, but Brock was always his willing guinea pig. In the beginning, it started off with wires that were inserted into and protruded from Brock’s wrists. The wires were connected to a computer. Using a joystick-type device that detected movements from his mouth and tongue, Brock could control the computer and tell it to send electrical signals through the wires to Brock’s wrist, which caused him to move. His brain couldn’t send those signals through the spine like it was supposed to so Hu
nter used the computer and wires as a bypass. Hunter’s device worked and changed Brock’s life, along with the lives of hundreds of other quadriplegics. For Hunter, it still wasn’t enough.

  After years of unrelenting study, research, and development, Hunter came up with a device that could read and use Brock’s electroencephaloblahblahblahs: the detection of electrical signals emitted by his brain, which were recorded through his scalp. He could tap into the potential of those EEGs by forcing Brock to wear a device on his head, which back then looked like a colander with wires coming out of all the holes, not unlike how Brock’s mom looked when she frosted her hair.

  The device was attached to the computer and all Brock had to do, Hunter teased, was think hard enough and he’d be able to control the computer using nothing but his mind. In time, that was exactly what Brock did. And luckily, in time, Hunter came up with a design that didn’t make Brock’s head look so ridiculous in the process.

  Advancements in technology developed rapidly in every direction and Hunter was always there, trying to find ways to incorporate those things to increase the quality of Brock’s life. In time, with Hunter’s help, there was little Brock couldn’t do or accomplish. Sure, he required assistance with things like eating, bathing, using the bathroom, getting in and out of bed, and cleaning his house.

  But, things could’ve been worse. He didn’t require a ventilator to breathe. He could speak with minimal clarity if absolutely necessary, although he hated to speak because he hated his voice and hated to repeat himself. Plus, speaking made him run out of breath, and he was relatively certain his vocal cords pretty much atrophied since he never used them. At least, he hoped they atrophied, so he wouldn’t be expected to use them.