Veil

by Aaron Overfield

  Ken wasn’t about to question Hunter’s sudden, additional requests regarding the Veil between him and Brock. Ken knew Hunter had certain plans, and he gave Ken no reason to doubt him. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was obvious he and Brock shared a close friendship, and Brock trusted Hunter. So, when Hunter requested that Brock be left totally unconscious for the duration of the shadowing and placed on life support, Ken consented.

  Ken also didn’t object to Hunter’s second request, which was for the upload of Brock’s neuroelectricity back onto his brain, after he shadowed Hunter, to be conducted in realtime. By default, the upload process would usually take only a few moments, what Ken dubbed “Veiltime.” That Veiltime upload would leave the shadower with a compressed—but complete and perfectly clear—memory of the experience. However, through a realtime upload, like the one Hunter requested for Brock, the shadower would experience everything in exactly the same manner as their target subject. Moment-by-moment, second-by-second.

  Still, Ken wanted to clarify it with Hunter and make sure he understood.

  “In doing it that way, if Brock shadows you for, say, eight hours, and we upload back onto him in realtime, the upload will take eight hours to complete. You do realize you’ll have to sit there for eight hours while Brock relives every second of the shadowing?” Ken asked.

  “I understand, yes,” Hunter acknowledged. “That’s precisely how I want it done. I want him to experience everything exactly as I did. I want it to be real for him, not merely a memory or an impression. I’ll sit with him as long as it takes. I don’t care.”

  “You got it,” Ken replied. He wasn’t about to question it. It wasn’t his place to. He began to walk toward the examining bed, where Brock was already lying, but Hunter grabbed him gently by the arm.

  “Thank you for this,” he gushed in a whisper and motioned in Brock’s direction with a tilt of his head. Ken smiled and nodded. He then took his place by Brock to begin the procedure. Hunter took his place on the opposite side of Brock and sat in a chair positioned by the examining bed, parallel with Brock’s head.

  Hunter smiled at Brock, whose contorted body was covered by a sheet. “Here we go bud, hope you’re ready. Everything will be fine. Trust me and relax,” he assured his friend.

  Brock purposely blinked once, which indicated “yes.”

  “We’re ready,” Hunter informed Ken.

  Ken did a final check of the life-support equipment, to which they’d hooked up Brock, and verified everything was operating normally.

  “Everything looks good. Here we go,” Ken informed them. He stepped closer to Brock and pushed a button on the side of the collar-like Veil prototype that wrapped around the back of Brock’s neck. Ken then supported Brock’s head; he kept it raised off the bed enough to prevent it from obstructing the device’s operation. The Veil beeped and a sheet of electrode-infused silicone slowly extended from the base of the unit. The silicone snaked up the back of Brock’s neck, ascended along his scalp, and completely covered his head, until it came to a stop at his hairline. A row of small lights across the base of the unit lit up sequentially as Brock’s neuroelectricity, his Witness, was downloaded into the prototype Veil collar.

  When the last light was lit, the Veil beeped again and the silicone sheet contracted back into the base. The lights at the base of the unit remained lit, which indicated Brock’s neuroelectricity was stored inside the device. Brock remained unconscious; they supplied him with enough artificial neuroelectricity to keep him alive but not enough for him to gain consciousness.

  Ken nodded at Hunter, who removed the Veil from Brock and placed the collar on his own neck. Ken gently lowered Brock’s head, until it came to rest on the pillow. At the same time, Hunter pushed the button on the side of the collar and the unit beeped. After the silicone sheeting covered Hunter’s head, the lights in the base went out sequentially, but in reverse, as Brock’s Witness was uploaded onto Hunter’s brain. When the last light went out, the Veil beeped yet again and the silicone contracted back into its base.

  “It’s done,” Ken announced. Brock was still unconscious, and his vital signs were normal.

  Hunter didn’t feel anything. He was expecting to feel some kind of … well … something. A buzz, a shock, or some kind of static electricity in his hair. He wasn’t quite sure what he thought he’d feel, but he was expecting to feel something.

  “That’s it?” he asked Ken. His body was stiff, and he looked straight ahead. For some reason, he was afraid to move. He noticed he was whispering, too. He wasn’t sure if he was whispering to keep from disturbing Brock, which was ridiculous, or because he’d never experienced having someone else all up inside his head, which kind of creeped him out. It was like he could sense a ghost sitting right next to him, staring at him, but as long as he didn’t look over at the ghost, it wasn’t really there.

  “That’s it,” Ken assured him.

  “Ok. This is it. Here we go bud,” Hunter said out loud, that time in less of a whisper. He put his hands on his knees, took a deep breath, exhaled, and removed the Veil.

  Hunter stood, placed the collar on the chair, and faced Brock. He put a hand on top of Brock’s head and rubbed it gently; he bent over and spoke to his unconscious friend. He whispered again, but not in fear of rousing him. He whispered because what he had to say begged to be whispered.

  “I love you, Brock. You are my best friend. You are my brother,” he professed, as tears trickled and then streamed down his cheeks. His entire chin quivered and his voice, still at a whisper, lowered an octave. “You are the most important person in my life. You always have been. I’d be nothing without you. You’re my moral compass. You’re my conscience. And now that you can actually hear it, you’ll find out for yourself how you’ve become like a voice inside my head that guides me. I love you so much.” He leaned down and kissed Brock’s forehead. Before that moment, Hunter had never once, not even casually, told his friend he loved him. He said it one more time. “I love you.”

  Hunter then left the lab without saying another word.

  The first thing he heard was snapping. Someone repeatedly snapped fingers next to his head in an attempt to wake him. Or to annoy him. As he opened his eyes and regained consciousness, his head moved back and forth, and he heard Hunter’s voice.

  “He’s waking up. How quickly do we have to start the upload?”

  “We can start it whenever we want. But, I figured he’d want to be fully awake before we started, so I increased his artificial neuroelectricity,” Brock heard Ken say. “Besides, he’ll need some dual neuroelectricity running through him during the upload since we’ve chosen to do it this way. In realtime I mean. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be actively aware of what he’s experiencing through you. He wouldn’t be himself; he would be you the whole time and wouldn’t resume being himself at all until after the upload was complete. If any of that makes sense.”

  “Makes sense, doing it in realtime like this is completely different; I know that. I understand how it works. At least I hope I do by now. The usual way, the Veiltime way, the process happens very quickly and the person gets left more with an impression or memory of the experience. They don’t experience everything second-by-second; they’re left with a memory of what it was like to be the other person. Also, doing it this way, Brock still has to be aware enough to experience what happens during the upload.”

  “Exactly,” Ken nodded.

  “Brock? Bud, you awake? Are you in there?” Hunter asked and leaned closer to Brock’s ear. “Is there anybody in thereeeeeeeee?”

  Brock was irked. He moaned and blinked once, very pronounced.

  Hunter laughed and looked at Ken. “Ok I think we’re about ready to start the upload. Let’s sit him upright.”

  Ken cranked the lever at the end of the bed to raise Brock’s head and torso. Hunter steadied Brock until he was sitting mostly upright but still leaned back slightly.

  “You ready bud?” Hunter asked.

  Brock blinked on
ce, which signaled he was ready. That time Brock was excited, not annoyed. Hunter took the Veil collar from the chair where he placed it earlier, sat down to face Brock, and wrapped the collar around the back of his own neck. He reached into his pocket and removed a small notebook and pocket watch. He pressed the button on the side of the collar. After he detected the two beeps, which signaled Brock’s Witness had been downloaded from him, he removed the collar and attached it to Brock’s neck.

  Hunter looked at Brock, smiled, and once again pressed the button on the side of the collar. He supported Brock’s head so the collar could do its job. A little under a minute later, after the sheet of silicone snaked its way over Brock’s head, the Veil beeped to indicate Brock’s Witness would begin to upload back onto his brain. Hunter slowly and gently lowered his friend’s head; Brock closed his eyes and braced himself.

  Brock immediately got chills and goose bumps all over his body. The darkness of his closed eyes tunneled with a stream of blurred colors and was quickly replaced by a nearly perfect reproduction of Hunter’s vision, looking straight ahead, approximately twelve hours earlier. It took a moment to adjust but as the sound of Hunter’s thoughts crystallized in Brock’s mind, he found it easier and easier to differentiate himself from Hunter. It was a weird sensation but he found it to be kind of neat. It was like experiencing a living, breathing movie inside his head. Or the impression of a movie. Not as clear as reality but so clear it looked, felt, sounded, and smelled real. It seemed completely real.

  He chuckled when Hunter thought about how it was ridiculous for him to whisper since Brock was unconscious. And then came the thought about the ghosts; that was something he could imagine Hunter saying. It was all so surreal … but real at the same time. And wow, the sound of Hunter’s thoughts. The voice. The voice wasn’t something he was hearing with his ears but rather was like the voice in Brock’s own head when he had thoughts. It was so interesting to experience. That was the only word he could think to describe it: interesting.

  At the beginning of the Veil, as Hunter rose and walked to him, Brock could sense the movement in himself. Although Brock knew he wasn’t actually moving, somehow he could feel the motion throughout his own body. Even though his mind knew better, he could still sense the movement. The feeling of movement. Movements he hadn’t felt in so many years. It gave him chills again.

  It was unsettling to see himself through someone else’s eyes. To actually see himself, his own form, the outline of his body through the sheet. It was disturbing, but not because he thought his body was ugly or damaged. It was disturbing because that were probably how people would experience it when they died and left their body but then looked back on themselves. It made Brock shudder. Not the chills but a downright shudder. At least, as much as his broken body could shudder.

  He was snapped out of that weird feeling when he heard Hunter say that he loved him; he heard all those words that Hunter spoke directly to him right before he left the lab. More than hearing Hunter’s words, he felt them all. Brock felt the meaning behind Hunter’s words and knew instantly that was the reason Hunter delivered them. As Hunter spoke, he felt each word echo in his mind in the form of Hunter’s voice. Each word was accompanied by such a strong feeling of love that it filled Brock up.

  It was Hunter’s love he was feeling. He was actually feeling Hunter’s love for him inside of himself. He could feel all of it; he could feel all its strength and truth and honesty and innocence. He could feel how it was deep and old, how it was unwavering and unconditional. He felt Hunter’s love for him so powerfully it filled Brock up until tears streamed down his cheeks as he lay there. He then experienced Hunter bend down and kiss his forehead approximately twelve hours earlier.

  In the lab, seated next to Brock and gauging his reactions, Hunter struggled not to weep as he watched Brock experience exactly what he hoped he would. Hunter lovingly placed his hand on Brock’s forehead to comfort him. He did so at precisely the same moment that Brock was experiencing him kiss his forehead inside the Veil. The compounding emotions of both moments, of both experiences, became too much for Brock. He opened his eyes and looked at his friend while tears poured from both men; Hunter lost his struggle not to weep. Brock released a set of loud sobs. He produced deep, guttural, primal bellows as he experienced firsthand, and in realtime, his friend’s love for him.

  “Shhh…” Hunter soothed him. He caressed Brock’s forehead and cheek with the back of his hand. “Close your eyes, bud,” he whispered through a quivering chin. Brock closed his eyes again. Hunter noticed that Ken, who sat at a station across the lab, was crying along with them.

  Brock experienced Hunter leave the lab, throw open the doors to the outside, and run down the street. In that moment, Hunter had no thoughts and didn’t say anything. He ran and ran and ran and ran and kept running. He ran as fast as he could. He ran down the entire block, crossed the first street he came to, and ran into a small park where he did flips and handstands in the grass. He even walked on his hands some.

  To experience so such motion and to experience it so realistically, so quickly, and so freely was almost too much for those atrophied regions of Brock’s mind. It felt so incredible that his mind could barely handle the experience and was tempted to reject it. Brock felt like he needed to escape but quickly realized he was holding his breath. He reminded himself to relax and once he did so, once he relaxed and took a breath, he began to feel every motion.

  Brock felt every single beautiful, unrestricted motion through each fiber of Hunter’s muscles. Oh God, the motion. All the motion. Brock never wanted it to end. Motion, more motion. Movement. Electricity from muscles long since forgotten exploded throughout Brock’s mind and burst into full-body, orgasmic fireworks. Blast after blast after blast from sticks of Hunter-dynamite erupted underneath his skin. Brock could feel all of Hunter’s body; he could feel it.

  Oh-my-fucking-God—I-can-feel-it.

  Back in the lab, Brock was unable to contain himself and, with his eyes tightly closed, he let out a triumphant yell. It was an expression of satisfaction and conquest hinged on frustrations he harbored against his own body for over two decades. It came out like a battle cry and made Hunter, still perched at his side, beam and glow.

  Hunter knew where Brock was; he glanced at the notebook and pocket watch and knew Brock was at the park. Brock’s battle cry subsided and changed into a champion’s smile, which soon turned into a giggle. When Brock let out a big huff and tilted his head back slightly, Hunter knew exactly which part Brock was at.

  Out of breath, Hunter plopped on a patch of grass, fell backwards, and stared up at the sky while he took in deep breaths. He rested and watched the clear, blue Washington, D.C. sky. His racing heart slowed, as did the gasps for air from his burning lungs.

  After a couple of minutes Hunter thought, Welp, can’t waste any time, bud, and sat up. Hunter looked around at the few people in the park and added, Wonder if they think we’re crazy?

  In the lab, Brock laughed out loud and thought, They probably do, but who cares?

  Hunter got up and walked across the park toward his rental car, which was intentionally positioned nearby.

  On the way to the car Hunter thought, Ok bud, so we’re going to do this a little differently. Usually the person getting shadowed will probably go about their day, nothing different; just thinking what they would normally think and doing what they’d normally do. Well, today you’re not only along for the ride, we’re going to enjoy it together. You can’t talk back to me now, but that’s ok. If this works the way I’m hoping it will, I want you to open your eyes right now, look at me, and blink three times.

  Brock opened his eyes, looked at a grinning Hunter, and blinked three times.

  Hunter gave Brock a thumbs-up and said, “Let’s go.”

  Brock closed his eyes again. Hunter glanced at Ken, who seemed confused, so Hunter shook his head and waved him off. Ken took that to mean he shouldn’t worry.

  Hunter got in the car and s
tarted the engine. He rolled down all the windows and drove off. Brock could feel the wind in Hunter’s hair.

  “The good thing about being alone is I can talk out loud. The whole thinking thoughts in my head just for you thing is kinda creepy and foreign, so I’d rather talk out loud,” Hunter said. “I promise I’m not going to take up all your day by talking and will sit back and let you enjoy the good parts, but I wanted to do some of this together bud, me and you. The way it’s always been.”

  Brock nodded his head at that point and smiled.

  In the lab, Hunter knew what that meant and looked down at the notebook and pocket watch. Hunter was so excited he could barely contain himself.

  Hunter turned on the car’s stereo and played music he knew Brock liked. Brock enjoyed the ride. The music, the wind, and the position Hunter was in all came together until it dawned on Brock how, for the first time in his life, he was driving. He was actually driving a car. He could feel the motions of Hunter’s hands turning the wheel and the feeling of his feet on the pedals. The fact that he wasn’t actually in control of any of it didn’t matter to him. He could feel it; all he needed to do was let himself feel it. All he had to do was let himself soak up the whole experience and suddenly he was driving. Brock was driving a car.

  “You like that I bet, dontcha bud?” Hunter asked the breeze twelve hours earlier.