However, Suren knew the Roy scene wouldn’t be the worst of it. She dreaded—a hundred times greater—the series of events that Peyton cautiously referred to as the “big thing.” Considering how Hunter believed her to be such a monster, Suren could hardly imagine how she would be depicted during the “big thing,” especially during the battle of the “big thing” when she sided with Ken and his decision to act as Veil Atoner. Although she had no choice but to accept what would be revealed, she didn’t necessarily have to look forward to it. Her only hope was that Peyton didn’t totally give up the reins to Hunter and allow him to gallop freely when writing the “big thing” into the Veillusion. If Peyton did so, Suren wouldn’t be surprised if Hunter depicted her with horns and a devil’s tail. And, knowing Hunter, a penis.
When that time came—when she got to the battle of the “big thing” in the story—Suren braced herself. Twenty-plus years of her regret and guilt were about to collide with twenty-plus years of Hunter’s resentment and blame. For the whole world to see. Suren knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but it was her penance. She was Hunter’s Lundy and how could he not want the world to witness how—
Wait.
Suren shifted. She wasn’t herself in the Veillusion anymore. Suddenly, she was Ken. She was Ken, and she was looking at herself and Hunter through Ken’s eyes. She was Ken, and she was listening to herself and Hunter. She and Hunter were angry. They were yelling. It was pretty much how the scene played out in real life, but from Ken’s perspective rather than her own.
Except … she and Hunter were both yelling at Ken; they were both angry with him. She and Hunter were trying to convince Ken not to do it: not to be the vAtoner for Jin’s murder. In the Veillusion, Suren and Hunter were both arguing that it was too risky, but Ken refused to listen to them. Ken refused to listen and told them he would act as vAtoner with or without their blessing. In the Veillusion, it was Ken who stormed out of the kitchen that day, leaving Suren and Hunter behind. Suren and Hunter … together.
Following that scene, Suren resumed the story from her own perspective. The remainder of the Veillusion played out pretty closely to how it did in real life. When she was returned to her own perspective in the Veillusion, it dawned on Suren that Veilers would all experience the battle of the ‘big thing’ from Ken’s perspective. For whatever reason, that was how Peyton and Hunter wrote it.
At the end of the Veillusion, which concluded with Suren informing the court that Lundy might just have up and died, she removed the collar and returned it to the table. Nearly ten hours had passed and as her mind returned to reality, ten hours worth of bodily exhaustion, thirst, and hunger flooded her in waves. Plus, she had to pee really badly.
Her mind was racing so much that, as she rolled herself back down the hallway toward her room, Suren didn’t take the time to gaze at the carpet in order to be reminded of Jin. Ignoring her considerably strong urge to go to the bathroom, she kicked open the bedroom door with her right footrest, rolled herself to her nightstand and picked up her cellphone. She tried her hardest to ignore her need to pee.
“Huh—hello?” the gravelly voice on the other end answered.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“No … no that’s ok, I’m up.”
Suren wondered why it was some people’s instinct to fib when they first woke up. It amused her. She also wondered why Peyton would be asleep so early in the evening.
“I’m sorry. I … I really wanted to ask you something. I finished it.”
“Finished … finished what?”
“The Veillusion. Vuh—Veil. I just finished it.”
“Oh, ok.”
“I wanted to ask you about … well, about the end. Close to the end, rather. The scene with Ken.”
“Yeah,” came the response. The voice sounded more awake and alert.
“Well, I—I just wanted to know, I guess. The scene, it was written from Ken’s perspective. It struck me. It was odd, I guess.”
“Yeah, it was his idea.”
“Whose idea? Hunter’s?”
“Yeah, it was Hunter’s idea. He said that’s how he wanted it. Hold on a second.” Suren heard what sounded like Peyton taking a drink of water. “Sorry, he … well, he said that’s how he wanted it. It wasn’t hard to figure out why, but he didn’t want to talk about it. He only said … well … he said—”
There was a long pause.
“Yes?” Suren pressed her.
“Well, he said he didn’t want to be you. He said if you were his Lundy, that meant he was Suren and he didn’t want to be crazy, old Suren. All he said was he didn’t want to be you.”
“I see,” was all Suren could think of to say.
“Yeah.”
“Ok, well. Thank you. For answering my question.” She paused and thought of what else she should ask. “Is this the only version of it now? Is this final? The final Veillusion.”
“Yes, definitely. That’s the only and final version. All the other drives were wiped and that one is it. It’s all that’s left.”
“Ok, well I do approve of it. I like what you did with Lundy. How he’s only a black space, kind of like a chalk outline of a body in a crime scene, but filled in with black. I liked it. Thank you for that.”
“They don’t really do that,” Peyton yawned.
“Huh?”
“In crime scenes, they don’t really use—” she started to say but decided it was irrelevant, “never mind. I’m glad you liked it though. And … and you approve?”
“Yes, I approve. Thank you, young lady. Now, go back to sleep.”
Peyton chuckled, “Ok, I’ll try. I was up all night after Veiling the vOlympics. I wanted to experience what it was like to win a gold medal.”
Suren kicked herself for missing out on the Veiled Olympics that year. It was likely her last chance.
The thought then disturbed her.
Well that’s a bit morbid. Dig your own grave, why don’t you?
After she hung up with Peyton, Suren rolled herself to the bathroom. Along the way, she thought about herself and about what Hunter said. What Hunter said about not wanting to be like her. She was pretty sure Hunter knew his words would find their way back to her, but she didn’t doubt the truth behind his message. She couldn’t blame Hunter for not wanting to be her. She began reflecting on all the things she did—the person she allowed herself to become—all in the name of her love for Jin. She did things she knew Jin would be—
Wait.
Although she had to pee so badly she could taste it, Suren stopped rolling. She couldn’t believe she didn’t realize it sooner. She snatched her cellphone off her lap and placed a call.
“Roy!”
“Yeh-yes? Yes Suren? Wh-what time is it?”
“It’s around 8ish, why is everyone in bed so early? Geesh.”
“Suren, is there something I can help you with? You could’ve used the intercom, remember?”
“I know what’s missing! I know what’s missing from the story!” she ignored his question and yelled.
“Missing … story … what?” he mumbled, still half awake.
“I know what Hunter left out of the story! I know how they used me! I need you to go fetch him again. I know the plan!” Suren smiled into the phone. “Aren’t you excited? I know Ken’s plan.”
Roy rubbed one eye with the ball of his free hand. He was too tired for her shit. Besides, he didn’t want to know. He didn’t care.
“You know what Suren?” he snapped.
She didn’t like the tone of his voice and she normally wouldn’t be talked to like that, but she knew the question was angrily rhetorical, so she stayed silent.
“Hunter has a phone,” Roy barked. “Hunter has a goddamn phone!” he repeated and ended the call.
“Damnit!” Suren squeezed her phone and shook it above her head. She not only wanted to avoid calling Hunter herself, but Roy was totally ruining her dramatics. Totally. Damn him.
Before she could resume rolling
herself toward the bathroom, Suren peed herself.
…Damnit.
23
PATHOS
“I’m sleeping.”
“No you’re not.”
“How do you know?”
“I can tell by your voice.”
“Whatever. What do you want?”
“What did he call it?”
“Call what?”
“The plan.”
“That’s why you called me this early? To ask me what Ken called the plan?”
“Yes.”
“Ok. Fine. He called it Ken’s Clause.”
She repeated it to herself. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Sounds about right.”
“Is that all?”
“I want to see you.”
“Well, how’s it feel to want?”
“Hunter.”
“Suren.”
“Please.”
“Can’t you have Carter drive you over here? Oh, wait…”
“That’s cruel, Hunter. He was such a sweet man.”
“He was a crotchety, old homophobe. You only liked him because he called you Ms. Suren and carted your ass around.”
“Whatever. He liked Ken. Anyway, will you come over, please?”
“What about loyal Ol’ Yeller Roy? Have him bring you over here. Your house stinks.”
She considered that for a moment. It was a very brief moment.
“That’s probably not going to happen.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you then.”
“Fine, I’ll take a cab.”
Hunter laughed hysterically. He laughed for forty-seven seconds. He had to set down the phone so he could dry his eyes.
“The all High and Mighty, Her Majesty, the Great Widow Tsay is going to take a common cab? Oh, really?”
“Yes. If you’re going to force me, I will.”
“Oh, I’m going to force you. I have to see this bitch get out of a cab. And don’t bring that smell with you.”
Hunter hung up before Suren could respond.
Hunter regretted hanging up. He didn’t regret hanging up on Suren—hell no, is you crazy?—he regretted hanging up before getting an ETA out of the bitch. He had no idea what time she planned on getting there. If she really did plan on it, which she likely did. The bitch wasn’t one to make empty threats. Without knowing when Suren would get there, Hunter had to stay on the lookout for her.
He no longer had any need for security, so the estate’s main gates were always open; he left the second set of gates open as well, because barely anyone ever came to visit. Besides, he was too lazy and slow to walk over to the intercom anymore anyway. He wished he hadn’t hung up. While he truly did want to see the bitch step out of a cab and would wait on the porch all day to witness it, he also really wanted to know how much time he had. Hunter wanted to know how much time he had before he was forced to dress himself and interact with another human. If you could call her that.
Ever since he encountered that little black box with Ken’s name carved into it, Hunter consumed Peyton’s Veillusion every-single-goddamn-day. He always shadowed his own perspective inside the Veillusion. Always. That way, he could experience Ken through his own eyes and ears, like it used to be. He could experience “Hunter and Ken,” “Ken and Hunter.”
Once he got his obsessed, sweaty, gay, alcoholic hands on the final version, Hunter started streaming the Veillusion to himself over and over and over. The shit was pretty much on repeat. They should have added a “loop” button to the damn collars. Hunter streamed it so often that he considered getting a vPort installed. The vCollar became uncomfortable and irritating. He imagined it wasn’t long before it gave him a callous-necklace. He didn’t give a damn; he wasn’t giving up his Ken again.
Hunter pleaded with Peyton and downright begged her to include scenes of him and Ken touching or kissing, but the stupid, tattooed pixie of a girl refused. He explained to the cruel, miniature ragamuffin that all he wanted was to experience Ken’s touch again. Hunter needed to feel Ken’s flesh.
Seeing and hearing Ken—experiencing him again—drove Hunter so crazy that it left him wanting to crawl out of his skin. Or crawl into the vCollar. Or cram himself into that little, black box. Ohhh he hated that stingy, tiny tree elf. She was simply being lazy; that was why she wouldn’t do it.
Give me what I want! Give it to me! You irritating little asinine Olsen twin.
In response to Hunter’s request, the stubborn goblin girl claimed that intimate, physical touch didn’t play out effectively in Veillusions, although no one really knew why. It simply didn’t work at all. Even basic touching didn’t register in the brain. It was the reason Veillusion porn wasn’t possible, although it certainly was in Old Time Veillusions. Hell, Old Time vPorn was a massive, thriving industry.
Shit, not just porn, either. Couples would often Veil each other while having sex, so they could experience what it was like to fuck themselves. Or, to experience the pleasure they provided their partner—maybe to learn what to do differently or better. The ways in which Veil altered the landscape of sex and sexuality were myriad. Veil’s ramifications ranged from deeply spiritual, life-changing sexual connections to unimaginable expressions of debase carnal depravity.
The annoying, little troll repeatedly denied Hunter his wish. She claimed that what he was asking for was simply impossible and no amount of arguing would change that. The issue was akin to how Flatline Veillusion scenes didn’t affect the brain like vFlatline memories. Or how the brain wouldn’t let Veil trick it into accepting another reality. The nasty gnome naysayer alleged that something about the mind simply wouldn’t believe it; Hunter’s brain would somehow know Ken’s touch was only make-believe. Every time that stupid smurfette opened her mouth and, one way or another, told him “no,” Hunter wanted to punch her right in her obnoxious hobbit pie hole.
“I’ll make myself believe it. We can at least try. Why not? Please, Peyton. Fucking please,” he begged. That was right, he’d make himself believe it. In the same way people did with Old Time Veillusions, he added. Besides, because it was the two of them—since it would be a personal Veillusion of sorts—maybe it would work. Maybe it would be different. Maybe his mind would believe it. He offered to pay her. He’d pay the teeny-weeny tribble more than she could ever imagine.
“I don’t want your money,” she laughed him off with a dismissive wave. Money wasn’t worth much those days. Not like it was way back in his day, she condescended. Any money that wasn’t funneled into the Veil Industry to deepen and expand it was used to resolve economic inequities and keep them balanced. In order to prevent exploitation, Amendment Three to the Right To Veil bill greatly limited any Veiling between people of disparate economic classes. Coupled with the equalizing, empathetic nature of Veil, Amendment Three brought about a huge push to end poverty worldwide. So, poverty ended. Quickly. Sure, capitalism still existed, Peyton conceded, but at least it was no longer some heartless, antisocial orgy of selfishness, self-importance, and oppression. Peyton proudly showed Hunter her “Ayn Rand Be Damned!” tattoo.
“I’m guessing this little impromptu show-and-tell on New Veil World economics, although misguided and misinformed, comes with a ‘but’?” Hunter scoffed.
“A ‘but’?”
“Yes, a ‘but’. Meaning, you don’t want my money but...”
“Ah,” she smirked.
“Yes. See. So, what’s Peyton’s ‘but’?” he pressed.
“Streaming.”
“You want streaming? For yourself?”
“Not just for me. I want streaming to be available to Veillusionists. Storage and streaming.”
“No. Impossible.”
“It’s not impossible. We’ve been using it to make this Veillusion. You’ve been using it every day and night to stream Ken to yourself. It’s not impossible.”
“I mean, it’s impossible to let that happen. It opens too many doors. Allowing storage was one thing, allowing streaming is another altogether.”
“It doesn’t have to be though,” she pushed. “Because I know what you’re worried about, and it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“How do you know it wouldn’t be a problem?”
“Only Veillusions could be stored, so only Veillusions would be streamed. It’s not like anyone would ever stream actual Veils. Not if real neuroelectricity couldn’t be stored. Without storage, to stream a Veil, everyone participating in it would have to be cabled into the vNet the entire time the shadowing took place. It’s not like people can Veil wirelessly or untethered, and no one is going to sit around and be tied to the network all the damn time. So, streaming would only be used for Veillusions. Only to stream Veillusions. Period.”
She made a good argument but there was no way. There was no way he could justify letting that technology touch the network, and there was no way he could talk Suren into it.
“I … I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Ok—ok, it’s fine. But if you change your mind, that’s my ‘but’. Streaming is my ‘but’.”
Peyton knew Hunter wouldn’t last long. She saw all the signs; he was completely typical. The instant Hunter touched her Veillusion and experienced Ken again, he became a vGriever: another one of those Veilers consumed by experiencing—over and over—the one they lost. That one person they could never let go of and the one loss they could never get over. Hunter became another one of those Veilers consumed by their grief, by their bereavement. Except, Hunter had it worse: all other vGrievers were limited to experiencing their lost ones through vMemories. With the help of Veil, bereft vGrievers became obsessed stalkers of memories.
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