Veil

by Aaron Overfield

  “Well, high praise from one of your peers, wouldn’t you say doctors?”

  “Certainly, Anderson—and we agree. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t agree with Dr. Goss. It certainly wouldn’t have happened without the man sitting next to me, Dr. Kenneth Wise. And, let me also take this moment to state that this remarkable, life-changing technology wouldn’t have been possible without the absolute genius of Dr. Jin Tsay, who cannot be here with us today because, unfortunately, he was murdered in an attempt by the United States government to steal this technology from him.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dr. Kennerly. Now … now … ummm … now, Dr. Kennerly, it’s safe to say that you and I share both a professional and personal relationship. A friendship. And this is the first I’m hearing about this. Sounds like we don’t have the whole story. Ummm … sounds like this is deeper.”

  “That’s true Anderson, and in time the whole story will come out. The truth will come out. I don’t say this to shift focus from the technology we’ve brought here tonight, I simply wanted to send a clear message to those out there who took part in Dr. Tsay’s death. They know who they are. They know that we know who they are. And our message for them is: We won. You lost. You—lost.”

  “That’s correct, Anderson. What Hunter, uhhh—Dr. Kennerly said is absolutely true and accurate. Jin Tsay was a close, personal friend of mine. A dear friend. And, in us coming here tonight to share his technology with the world, well, that technology comes with a message. Like Dr. Kennerly said. And, might I add that us being here tonight, us bringing this to you, well we’re doing it all for Jin Tsay. And for his wife, Suren. This is for you, Suren. This is for you and your Jin.”

  The three men in the General’s office heard as, off-camera, and obviously unscripted, a woman in the studio squealed with excitement and clapped. The General’s fists were clenched so tightly that he lost feeling in them. Until then, he was lost in the words he heard over the speakerphone, but the squeal of Tsay’s wife broke him.

  It was only a brief squeal, but he swore he could recognize her voice perfectly. That same voice from that same bitch shrew of a woman who called him so many months ago, after having the gall to pay him a visit. As if he couldn’t have her ass killed like he did with her damn husband.

  At that point, the General had two distinct thoughts.

  Hunter Kennerly is a fucking dead man talking.

  We need to stop paying that bitch on Jin Tsay’s contract. Now.

  “Ok, well, like I said, it sounds like we don’t have the entire story here,” Anderson continued on and paused for a greater span than one might expect to find during a television broadcast. He shuffled papers in front of him and stared off beyond the camera into the studio before he continued, “I guess that’s a story for another time. Like you two said, tonight is about the technology you’ve brought here to share with the world.”

  “Yes,” Ken and Hunter agreed at the same time.

  “And share it with the world is what we intend to do. Although I consider Dr. Jin Tsay, his widow Suren Tsay, and Dr. Ken Wise to be the primary owners of this technology, it is their intention to share it freely with the world. In memory of Jin Tsay, they simply want the world to have the opportunity to experience it firsthand.”

  “And the only way to understand it is to experience it. I think Dr. Goss and I can agree on that?”

  “Oh yes, Anderson,” Dr. Goss nodded emphatically and smiled. He appeared genuinely astonished.

  “Dr. Goss and I had the opportunity to experience firsthand the technology that Dr. Wise and Dr. Kennerly and … Suren, is it? Yes—Suren—brought to the studio with them tonight. After the break, all you viewers at home will get to see what transpired in this studio for the last two hours, as myself and Dr. Goss took this jaw-dropping technology for a test drive. Before we leave for our break, Dr. Wise, can you tell us what this device is called?” Anderson asked as he lifted the futuristic, shiny, black acrylic device, which was sitting in his lap. He presented it to the camera and placed it on the table in front of him and his guests.

  Although the General and two whitecoats in his office could not see the device Anderson Cooper held up, they knew, for the most part, how it looked. And although they could not see the look on Hunter Kennerly’s face, they all knew how big of a shit-eating smile he gave the camera as he spoke his next words.

  “Certainly, Anderson. The device you’re holding in your in hand … the technology that each of us in this studio is certain will completely change life overnight for everyone after they hear about it on your show—well, it was created by Dr. Jin Hosato Tsay—and he named it ‘Veil’.”

  As the General’s phone flew across the room—before it crashed into the wall—the three men heard the famous last words.

  “There you have it, ladies and gentlemen: Veil.”

  PART II - VEILED

  "veil is a garden weeder."

  12

  PLUNGE

  She descended the damp, narrow staircase, which echoed the loud buzzing of a neon sign attached to the transient hotel next door. The only other sound was the sharp but watery tap of her shoes as they struck the wet concrete. She was dressed in white from head to toe. From her white wide-brimmed hat to her white high heels. She grew accustomed to wearing ridiculously oversized hats. They provided one more barrier between her and the world; they were one more act of defiance and impenetrability in the face of so much unsought adoration and publicity.

  She took another step down, looked up, and watched as the visible remainder of tires from the limousine in which she arrived gradually disappeared above her head. She took another step down, and the tires disappeared completely. She found solace in knowledge that her driver would wait for her in the same spot until she returned. One of the few people she came to trust, Suren about had to mace her driver to get him to let her go down there alone. When her first foot hit the landing at the bottom, and as she reached for the doorknob, she felt a twinge of regret for not allowing him to escort her.

  She stepped inside, removed her oversized sunglasses, and put them in her purse. She looked up from her purse and found herself nearly blinded by the huge, glowing white letters emblazoned across the base of the wall-to-wall, U-shaped counter. The bright letters were contrasted against the sleek, shiny black material covering the entire surface of the counter and every other inch of the large room. She recognized the black acrylic immediately; it was the same material from which the original millions of Veil Collars were made.

  Suren sneered at those three offensive words stamped across the base of the counter: “BLACK MARKET MEMORIES.”

  Considering all the other memory dealers she visited in the last two years, Suren was a bit taken aback by the appearance of the store. She expected to walk into the kind of slum one assumed they’d find in a basement shop next to a rent-by-the-hour hotel. What she found instead was the spectral antithesis of an old Apple Store. The shop was sleek, sharp, minimal, clean, and completely black except the white letters of the store’s name. Definitely not at all what one would expect from a retailer of illegal merchandise. She suspected that she might’ve finally found the place.

  Finally.

  A young girl, probably no older than nineteen, stepped out of a nearly undetectable, pitch-black doorway. She wore all black except for large, glowing white letters that lined the contour of her left shoulder. The letters matched the style of those on the front of the counter and spelled out what Suren could only assume was the girl’s name: “ABIGAIL.”

  “Oh.” The girl sounded startled as she stepped out and saw Suren standing in front of the door, looking all ghostly. “Hi!”

  “Hello,” Suren replied timidly.

  The girl stepped forward and pressed a button on the countertop in front of her. Eight monitors, embedded in the tops of the U-shape counter, lit up in succession from the ones closest to the girl to those nearest Suren.

  “Sorry about that.” The girl sounded embarrassed. “I didn’t think
anyone else was coming in tonight.”

  “Oh … I … I can come back.”

  “No, it’s ok. We don’t close for another,” the girl checked her wrist, “twenty minutes, anyway. Take your time.”

  Suren nodded her head.

  “Are we in an extro or intro kind of mood tonight?” the young girl asked.

  It became a common question at nearly all retailers, in respect of a shopper’s preference to be assisted by a clerk or of their desire to simply be left alone. Respect for the individual shopping experience was of utmost consideration, especially in the Veil Industry.

  “Intro,” Suren said sheepishly. “Always intro.”

  “I’ll leave you to it then. Let me know if you have any questions.”

  “Thank you,” Suren whispered from underneath her hat and again nodded in the girl’s direction.

  Suren approached the monitor closest to her and sat on a black stool whose solitary leg artfully arched from the base of the counter. She turned her body so her crossed legs and torso were facing the front of the store where the young lady stood; her upper body was turned toward the counter. Looking down at the monitor embedded in the countertop, Suren pushed the selection on the touchscreen that said, also in the same style as the store’s name: “BEGIN.”

  Two options appeared before her. One indicated Suren could choose from a list of names and the other indicated she could choose from a list of event types. Suren selected to choose from a list of names. She was then directed to either begin typing a name or scroll through a list of the store’s available names.

  Suren used the on-screen keyboard and began typing: “J-I-N” space “T-S.”

  By the time she got to the letter “S,” Jin’s name appeared at the top of a list of options. She clicked on Jin’s name and a list of additional options appeared: Conception - Pregnancy - Birthdays - School - Events - Achievements - Special Occasions - Adult - Other

  Out of curiosity and with a surprised smirk on her face, Suren chose, Adult. A new screen popped up that stated, No Entries. Suren smirked again, that time pleased and not so surprised. She clicked “back.” Suren presumed the memory she hunted for would be listed under Special Occasions, so she selected that option. A new screen popped up with three categories, none of which reflected the memory Suren sought, so again she clicked “back.”

  The third time, Suren selected the Other option. When she did, two further categories appeared, one titled Random Encounters (Unverified Identifications of Individual May Be Included) and another titled simply, Death. Suren’s pulse spiked noticeably; she hesitated while she stared at the memory marked Death.

  Two years since she started to hear whispers of the rumor. It had been two years and not once had that word show up in any memory dealership. Slowly and with a shaking finger, she touched the screen. The monitor beeped and the screen flashed red three times along with a pop-up message that stated, See Manager For Access. Reflexively, she touched it again, the way one tended to push an elevator button, although the button was already lit. The monitor emitted the same beep and the same message appeared on the screen.

  After she detected a beep for the second time, the girl at the end of the counter headed to where Suren was seated as she asked, “Is there something I can assist you with, ma’am?”

  “Ummm … yes, apparently I need to see a manager for access.”

  “Ah yes, most of our,” the girl nervously cleared her throat, “adult memories do require prior authorization,” she announced as she approached Suren’s monitor. She glanced at the screen and saw Suren wasn’t attempting to access the Adult section, but rather the section titled, Death.

  “Oh … I assumed, well … you just…” the girl backtracked.

  “I’m looking for this memory specifically.” Suren tapped the screen.

  “Yes, yes. Well, for that, yes, I am going to have to contact my manager. Well, the owner really. He’s the only one who can approve access to,” she cleared her throat again, “that kind of memory. I can’t do that. I’m—I’m underage. I can’t do that. Not even the adult ones.”

  “I understand,” Suren replied and sneered at the girl from under the brim of her hat. The girl hadn’t moved and was staring at the monitor. That time, it was Suren who cleared her throat. “So, the manager?” she prompted the young girl.

  “Yes—oh yes,” she replied nervously and shook her head. “I’ll have to call him. The owner. Excuse me for a second, please, Ms … Ms…” she fished for Suren’s name.

  “Go call him, young lady. Now.”

  She couldn’t hear everything the girl said over the videophone, only bits and pieces. The entire scene played out like some cliché from a crime show, all the way down to the bits Suren could overhear.

  I don’t know who she is … no, not that I know of … I don’t know but she’s just sitting here … ok, I’ll tell her … yes … ok.

  The girl ended the videocall and walked along the wall behind the counter until she returned to her position in front of Suren. She bent her knees slightly and pulled up a cable that unwound from a spool mounted inside the counter. When the wire completely unspooled, it clicked into place. The cable’s tip glowed with a blue light and Suren recognized it immediately. The girl eyed Suren, who stared back at her from underneath the brim of her hat. No longer sheepish as she’d been when she first entered the store, Suren was intimidatingly brazen. The moment she saw the word “death” on the screen, Suren felt she had the right to conduct herself however she wanted inside that store.

  “The owner wants me to prep you. He’ll be here soon. I just need to cable into your vPort,” the girl requested submissively. She was already positioning herself to access the back of Suren’s neck.

  “I don’t have a Veil Port,” Suren admitted bluntly and sounded as though the girl was absurd for suggesting she would.

  “You … you … don’t have a vPort?”

  “No. I have this.” Suren unzipped her purse and pulled out her personal Veil Collar. She placed it on the counter, covering the monitor. Unlike the vintage black acrylic collars Abigail had seen, Suren’s was pure platinum and, in what appeared to be diamonds, embedded on either side of the typical “VEIL” engraving across the base, were the initials, “JT” and “ST.”

  The girl let out an uncontrollable chuckle. “I—I … we don’t use those anymore. No one uses those. I can’t cable into that, ma’am.”

  She instinctually reached out to touch the archaic unit, simply because it looked so fancy, but Suren immediately snatched it up.

  “You mean to tell me a place like this,” Suren motioned around the store with a wave of her Veil, “doesn’t have a basic vTech adapter? You honestly expect me to believe that?”

  “Yes ma’am—I mean, no, I’m sorry, we don’t have one. Or at least … I mean … I’ve worked here over two years, and I’ve never seen an adapter here. No one has ever brought in—you know—one of those,” she stressed as she darted her eyes and nodded at the Veil Collar in Suren’s hand.

  “I’ll wait for your boss, if you don’t mind,” Suren huffed with disdain. She turned her entire body to face the rear of the store and placed her hands, which were holding the collar, on top of the white purse that rested on her lap.

  “Oh, of course,” the girl responded and checked her watch. “Of course. No problem. He should be here any second. He owns the entire building. He lives on the top floor.”

  Suren stared straight ahead and didn’t respond.

  “Do you mind, I mean … is it ok … well, I’m just wondering, where did you get that?” the girl asked.

  Suren wasn’t looking at the girl when she asked the question, but she was sure the girl was referring to the collar in her lap.

  “I’ve never seen one like it,” the girl added.

  Suren moved so slowly it frightened the young girl. She turned her head and peered directly at her from underneath the brim of the hat. In the same intimidating manner, she reached up and removed her hat so
that her long, straight, shiny black hair cascaded down her shoulders. Suren placed the hat on the counter, to the right of the monitor between her and the girl.

  The girl let out a breathy gasp and took a step back with one foot. Suren could only assume it was the sound and reaction of sudden recognition.

  “Young lady,” she said in a near whisper. “I suggest you leave my sight before your boss arrives. I also suggest you excuse yourself from this store as soon as he does arrive and then think long and hard before you ever set foot back in this place. History is not going to look kindly upon the people who take part in peddling this form of filth.” Suren tapped the monitor and added, “The Tsay Legacy will not allow it from you—people.”

  She said the word ‘people’ with such disgust that she almost felt guilty. She almost didn’t recognize herself. Almost.

  Shocked and speechless, the girl nodded and turned away from Suren as she headed to the pitch-black doorway at the rear of the store. As she walked away, Suren took notice of the girl’s vPort installed in the base of her neck. She was still close enough for Suren to read that twenty-three Witnesses were shadowing the girl. The vPort’s screen also indicated that the girl was currently shadowing someone as well. Suren fleetingly wondered who the girl was shadowing. A lover? A family member? A Veil celebrity? Or, as the girl would probably call them, a “Velebrity.”

  It didn’t matter. All that mattered to Suren was the reason she ended up in that store in the first place.