“Young lady—” Suren raised her hand.
“Ms. Suren, please,” Peyton interrupted, “you said you always give youth a fair listen. Please.”
Suren quickly capitulated. She had to admit, seeing her name circling that brain more than caught her attention. She couldn’t help but wonder what it stored. Had someone been secretly recording her neuroelectricity?
Is that why the girl came there? Did someone find a way to access and record consciousness remotely and clandestinely? She supposed it was worth finding out, and it didn’t appear as if the young girl intended to tell Suren what was in the box.
After she gave the girl considerable time to sweat, Suren made her decision.
“Roy,” she sighed and held up her hand.
Roy pried himself off a couch and retrieved Suren’s vCollar from a pouch in the back of her wheelchair. He placed the collar on Suren.
“You … you aren’t ported?” Peyton was shocked.
“No.”
“Oh.”
Peyton pulled a vCable out of her duffle bag. She plugged one end of the cable into the back of the glass skull and flung the other end across the table toward Roy. He attached that end of the cable to a vTech adapter and then cabled into Suren’s collar.
“I’m going to start it around the middle,” Peyton announced as she fumbled to take her phone out of her pocket. While looking at her phone and fidgeting with the touchscreen she added, “There’s not enough time for you to Veil all of it.”
“What do you need that for?” Suren asked, pointing at Peyton’s cellphone.
“Oh, I can control the vBrain with it. There’s an app for it. I can control my vPort with it, too. It’s like having a wireless host, but with the vBrain—the artificial brain—I still have to punch in your VSN, even if you’re tethered directly. Added safety, you know? Port-to-vBrain connections can lead to Veil rape these days if you’re not extra safe,” she frowned, still fidgeting with her phone.
“Yes, I’ve heard,” Suren frowned back, although she was happy technology was still making some advances. Veil applications for cellphones. Suren was amused.
Cute.
“Plus,” Peyton continued to ramble while tapping on her phone, “it can like update all your statuses on the intercloud, like when you begin or end a Veil. You know, like on Facecloud and Chirpulus. Or, it will recommend certain people to Veil, or certain Veillusions you might like. A lot of people compete on all kinds of different cloudsites to see who has the most people shadowing them or who has Veiled the most people, that kind of stuff. My friends compete over how many people watch their Veillusions. You know, the whole social-networking side of Veil. Which is funny since Veil is one huge social network, if you really think about it.”
“Fascinating,” Suren lied.
“Ok, it’s set. All I need is your VSN.” Peyton glanced up.
“It’s three.”
“Oh! That’s right. Duh. Everyone knows that. Sorry for asking, it’s a habit.”
“Quite alright,” Suren shrugged. She was suddenly perturbed that everyone knew her VSN. She wondered if she should have it changed.
Both devices beeped.
“All ready. They’re connected. Just touch the button on your port … I—I mean on your collar … when you want to start shadowing it.”
Suren chatted with Peyton for about ten minutes while her Veiling of the vBrain took place. Peyton informed Suren that there was no need for her to Veil what was in the box for too long. She simply wanted Suren to get an idea of what it contained, so they could discuss why Peyton came to see her. Ten minutes should be good enough, Peyton noted.
They talked about where Peyton was from and which Veilementary and vAcademy schools she attended. Peyton also giddily disclosed that her grandmother still possessed an original, first-generation vCollar. Not only that … she actually let Peyton touch it a few times.
“Pretty vintage. It was sooooooo cool,” Peyton added with a big smile.
The devices beeped again to indicate the Veil was ready.
“Veiltime or realtime?” Suren asked.
“Oh … please, realtime. Definitely realtime.”
“Roy?”
Roy checked Suren’s collar and verified it was set for realtime.
“All good,” he announced.
Suren slowly reached up, pressed the button to begin the upload of her Witness and closed her eyes.
After the usual chills, goose bumps, and kaleidoscope of colors subsided, Suren found herself transported back nearly forty years—to Ken’s lab. It was the day when, for the first time, she, Ken, Hunter, and Brock sat around one of the tables in the lab and discussed Veil. It was the day they all met for the first time. The day Hunter made his infamous, treasonous escape from the military.
Suren’s eyes shot open. Peyton was staring at her with anticipation. Suren immediately shut her eyes.
Suren was herself. Inside the experience she entered, Suren was in the role of herself. She could see everything from her own perspective, from her own place in history. Things looked and sounded remarkably accurate. The young girl obviously went to great lengths to research and reproduce the scene. Peyton achieved her goal and did so with astounding precision. Suren could see and hear Ken, Hunter, and Brock; each of the men Suren experienced in the Veillusion was an almost perfect duplicate of the real man.
However, more masterful than that was how accurately the scene mirrored Suren’s memory of that historic day. It was overpowering and dizzying. It was remarkable. It was unbelievable. For the first time in over twenty years, Suren was shocked and awed. The scene in the Veillusion became so overwhelmingly evocative that it created a momentary feedback in Suren’s brain; her mind struggled to reconcile the Veillusion and her memory of that day, as if her brain couldn’t differentiate the two.
Suren clinched her eyes and shook her head in an attempt to reorient herself—luckily, it worked.
Inside the Veillusion, her head turned and she was suddenly looking at Ken. Instinctually, she put her hand out to touch him, although consciously she knew it was futile. It was only a Veillusion, albeit an incredibly accurate Veillusion. She was astonished. She became emotional but would not allow herself to cry. She held tears back with every ounce of strength, even going as far as resurrecting the full extent of the Great Widow Tsay persona she long since buried.
Inside the Veillusion, she found her thoughts and emotions—the thoughts and emotions of the Suren she was back then—were replaced by a vague blurring of those two senses. The young girl obviously wouldn’t be able to know what was in Suren’s mind or heart at the time, and it would’ve been offensive if she made up those things and fictionalized them. Instead, Peyton created only impressions of how one would assume someone in that situation would feel, and in place of Suren’s thoughts were narrative structures that were necessary to propel any story. It was a story after all; it was only a Veillusion. But, everything was there: the sights, the sounds, the smells, the sensations. Everything.
Suren opened her eyes. The girl was a commanding Veillusionist. There was no doubt about it. She looked at Peyton and smiled before closing her eyes again.
Initially, Suren couldn’t imagine how the young girl got so much information and detail Suren didn’t understand how the girl could know enough to recreate the experience so accurately. As the scene played out, it slowly dawned on Suren how the lives of the Tsay Trustees were at one time the object of so much intense attention, examination, and scrutiny. It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine someone could piece together nearly all the lives of the Trustees with all that information floating around out there. Even so, Peyton’s Veillusion of the history and story of Veil was devastatingly clearer and deeper than any Veillusion Suren experienced. Near the end of the ten minutes, Suren realized how that achievement was possible and why the young girl came to see her.
She struggled to pull herself away from the seduction of the Veillusion and had to force herself to remove the collar
before the ten minutes ran out.
Suren slowly and gracefully placed the vCollar on her lap. When she spoke, she was looking down at her lap and not at the young girl. Suren spoke with a steady, firm voice.
“You want to store it. You want to store neuroelectrical patterns so you can make Veillusions like this, but you knew how us Tsay Trustees felt about that. You know our position on it. Everyone knows our position—which is why you created this particular Veillusion. So we would see. So we would see our story and ourselves. So we would change our minds.”
Taken aback by Suren’s tone and candor, Peyton struggled to explain.
“Hon—honestly, yes. In a way. But, that’s not the only reason. It’s also because of these.”
She reached for the duffle bag. One-by-one, Peyton pulled out four other black boxes and set them in her lap. Each box was inscribed with a name of a remaining Tsay Trustee.
Suren’s eyes darted up and met Peyton’s.
“You see, I wrote the same Veillusion from each Trustee’s perspective. I presented each of your stories. The details of all five Veillusions inside these boxes are identical, except each Veillusion comes from a different perspective. Each box tells the entire story of Veil from the perspective of a separate Trustee—as much as possible. The world could experience the history of Veil … the entire Veil story, Ms. Tsay … through the lives of all the Trustees. All of you.”
Not usually one to tip her hand so easily, Suren let out a small gasp and quickly covered her mouth. Her mind was racing.
Hell’s bells and buckets of blood, did that girl really, really know how to dress things up.
Peyton continued to argue her case. She became confident, relentless, impassioned. She began to remind Suren of Ken.
“You saw how much detail I was able to include. You saw how much depth it could have. I can give them almost the real thing. The real story. All of it.”
“I—I don’t even know what to say.” Suren bowed her head and shook it. She looked at Roy for some support or guidance; however, he dozed off while the Veil was taking place and neither of them noticed.
“Well, I know my mother and my grandmother and billions of people around the world want this story. They want this experience. And I guess I finally reached a point where all I could do was take this risk and show you how it could be given to them. Yes, you’re right. I took that risk for the exact reason you said. But the point’s the same.” Peyton picked up the black box marked “KEN” and shook it. “This is what Veillusion could be, damnit. This is what I want to be able to create. It’s like who I am. Who I was meant to be. Right now, I can’t do it. And, no offense Ms. Tsay, but I can’t do it because of you.”
“Answer one question … young lady,” Suren lowered her voice. She said the words ‘young lady’ in a tone she hadn’t meant. The words came out too harsh, too punishing, too frightening.
Peyton dropped her hand into her lap. Ken’s box tumbled off her palm and onto the seat. She eyed Suren. The poor girl looked defeated.
“Ok.”
“What are you asking me for? What do you want? Let’s get right down to it.”
“I want to be able to store artificial neuroelectrical patterns to create Veillusions. But that’s all. I agree that’s all that should be allowed to be stored. And only for Veillusions. Ms. Tsay, I want to store artificial neuroelectrical patterns, so I can give the world Veillusions like the one you experienced.”
Suren rested her head back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. The time had finally come. They always knew the wolves would be back for Veil and the time had come: the wolves were at the door. The girl wasn’t a wolf by any stretch, but she was a harbinger of what was inevitably to come. They always knew it would happen.
They knew it would happen at that one particular moment: after Suren died; after Hunter died; after Roy died; when the Trustees were gone; when the Tsay Legacy was gone. When no one was left to fight against it, the Veil Apocalypse would come. Thing was, Suren figured, Peyton gave the best argument yet for cracking open the floodgates to release some of the pressure.
The flood was going to come; even Ken saw what was coming. Thirty-plus years ago he saw it coming for Veil. Thirty-plus years ago, Ken told the world how the Veil Apocalypse would come for them like a flood.
Veil’s floodwall will crack; it will crumble; it will one day tumble down.
One day, the Veil Apocalypse will come and drown.
Maybe the young girl was giving them a way to delay that. Maybe she presented Suren with a way to release some pressure from the dam and allow the Legacy time to devise a strategy. Even if for entirely selfish reasons, Suren wanted what that girl was offering. Suren wanted what was in all those little black boxes. Yes, yes, she desperately wanted to devise a plan. But, she really wanted what was in those dang boxes.
“Can you leave this here with me?” Suren lowered her head and asked the young girl in a near whisper.
“I—I can if you need me to,” Peyton bubbled as she fought back a smile.
“Please, leave the vBrain and two of the boxes. My box and the box for Ken.”
“Ye—yes ma’am, I can do that,” she smiled as she stood up and collected all her other belongings. She handed Suren the box labeled “KEN.”
As the girl’s arm got closer, Suren could make out the tattoo she noticed earlier. It was a picture of Nina Simone. Suren smiled broadly but quickly erased it. She frowned and shot at glare up at Peyton, as if doing so from over the rim of a pair glasses, like a schoolteacher.
“You’re not, under any circumstances to network any of these. If you do, the vNet will detect them, and they will be disabled.”
“I understand. And so will I. So will my port.”
“Yes, you will. It’s automatic, and the technology will be detected instantly. Not eventually—instantly.”
“I understand.”
“Return tomorrow at the same time. You and I will discuss the terms of how we will proceed. If I decide we will proceed.”
“Thank you Ms … Suren … thank you.”
Suren grinned and nodded her head.
“You can see yourself out.”
“See you tomorrow!” Peyton shouted as she all but skipped out of the room, leaving behind the artificial brain and two black boxes.
“Roy … Roy!”
“Uh … uh…” he mumbled as he slowly regained consciousness and stretched. “Yeh—yeh—yes?” he stuttered in that old Roy way.
“I need you to do me a favor.”
“Sure thing,” he said through a yawn. What he meant was, I’m yawning. So I’m obviously tired. So that should tell you that I don’t want to do you any favors. So don’t ask me.
“I need you to go get Hunter tonight.” I already know you’ll do anything I ask, whenever I ask.
“He … he won’t come. You know he won’t come.” Don’t make me go over to that man’s house. Please.
“He’ll come.” You’re going, Roy.
“He won’t.” Please don’t. I’m a good man. Please don’t do this to me, lady Suren.
Suren did feel a little bad. She knew Roy didn’t want to go over there. Who would? It was Hunter. No one in their right mind willingly subjected themselves to that man. Half of the enchanting magnetism he once possessed, which outweighed his abrasive personality, died with Ken. The other half died with Brock. Now Hunter was only abrasive and repellent.
Still, Suren needed him and she knew Roy would go get him. Some of the Great Widow Tsay must’ve still been bubbling up in her, because Suren was unrelenting.
“He’ll come. Tell him I’m dying. I’m dying soon. He will come then.”
“Uh … uh, ok.”
“And before you go will you get the oxygen tank out of the guest room? He always picked up on all the little things.”
“Sure thing.”
“You always did have a flair for the annoyingly dramatic,” Hunter huffed and shook his head. He rolled his eyes and huffed again. Too c
urious to resist, he got up from the chair to inspect the artificial brain and little box Suren just pointed out.
“You’re one to talk,” she wheezed and coughed. She knew the box with Ken’s name on it would seal the deal.
“What is it?” he asked as he picked up the little black box and examined it from all sides.
“You’ll have to Veil it for yourself.”
He turned his head in her direction, if only so she could see him roll his eyes.
“I don’t have time for stupid little games.”
“Hunter, just take it with you and you’ll see. You’ll come back, and we’ll talk.”
“How can you be so sure? That I’ll come back, that is.”
She reached under the covers as she told him, “Because, you’ll want to see this.”
He squinted and read the name on the box Suren was holding. She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist actually seeing Ken again, even if it was through her eyes. In that little black box, he was taking the perspective of Ken home with him, but that wouldn’t really let him see Ken. She was willing to bet her entire house that Hunter came back for that and that alone—even if it was to see Ken through her eyes.
Hunter picked up the glass skull and the box marked with Ken’s name. He headed toward the bedroom door.
“Don’t be so sure of that. Why would I want anything with your bitch of a name on it? By the way, next time you want to put on a little death play, you might want to make sure the oxygen tank isn’t empty. Dumbass.”
As Hunter walked out, Suren shouted his name.
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