Standing on Quicksand

by Ric battaglia

The Indian fusion incident

  Darn, why did it have to be the Taj Majal again? Always the Taj Mahal, he thought with exasperation. He was so familiar with it that he sometimes wandered the compound in his dreams. You would think it was the only part of India that was worth visiting. The foreigners wanted to see one of the few remaining “wonders of the world”, hear the echoes throughout its reverberant shells, view from different angles the light reflecting off the iridescent marble inlaid with semi-precious stones, and get the sensation of touching the intricately carved bas reliefs inspired by nature. The clients saw only what they wanted to see. They never got to smell the foul odors on the wind that occasionally wafted over the compound from the River Yumana or neighboring slums that had crowded the government protection zone long ago, in the dead of summer. Nor did they ever get a chance to feel the blazing sun, so scorching at times that at times it caused even him, a native, to sweat profusely and occasionally short circuit a sensor. The clients were of many nationalities but most were westerners with the occasional Japanese or Chinese. No matter which country or culture all of them were captivated by the idea of immersing themselves in a part of history long since eclipsed. Imagining what it would be like to commune with a long lost era not plagued with the current troubles. To drown themselves in the romantic idea surrounding the legendary love of the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan for his third wife that was the impetus for creating the memorial. All the time convincing themselves they were experiencing another culture, if only at arm’s length.

  “Sahil, who did you get” an inquiry by a friend standing next to him broke his momentary trance. Sahil had just picked up his wooden chit from a clerk behind the long counter and was staring at the giant chalkboard covering most of the opposite wall of the huge rectangular room, which resembled a train terminal with its flurry of activity and bustling of crowds.

  Plank catwalks stuck out from the wall at the base of the giant chalk board with a gang of young boys scrambling back and forth on it erasing and inscribing new figures at various locations in the expanse of cels per directions from the clerks below. Spears of sunlight cut thru a vast vault of windows at his back revealing motes of chalk dust floating thick in the air as Sahil studied the chart spread out over the chalkboard. He wanted to double check the number etched on his chit, 235, with the inscription on the board, next to which was written his assignment: TM 0930 567KJ8.

  “It is the Taj Mahal, again” he replied with a slight shake of his head.

  “Oh that is good, I have it as well” stated his friend cheerfully overlooking the negative overtones in Sahil’s voice, “Would you like to split a bike-shaw? I hear it is going to be a very hot day and I’d hate to use all our energy walking there, besides we can get better suits this time for sure and possibly even return for a second assignment”

  Sahil would normally turn the offer of a bike-shaw down as he was trying to save as much as possible so his mother, sister, and he could all continue living in the one room flat they currently called home. It was really no more than a squat on the top floor of a five story ruin which passed for a building but it was safer than the streets. But today was special and he would need every ounce of energy later. “You are right energy must be conserved today, I will gladly accept your offer”

  After writing the 6-digit code of his assignment on his hand they headed out into the busy street. The harsh, bustling activity assailed them as they exited the Placement Center. It was like being inside the clatter and cacophony of some immense engine, even though ironically there were no such machines within earshot. Very few combustion vehicles existed any longer and when there was it most likely ran on alcohol or steam. The thick, pungent scent of tarka and ghee sizzling with onions and spices filled the air from venders starting their stews for the day. His friend quickly flagged down a bike-shaw and they were lost in the churning tide of traffic headed towards the Taj Mahal.

  “Have you ever taken someone from the Espanola peninsula? Today they gave me a client from there.”

  “Yes indeed, I have several times”

  “Could you switch with me I am quite nervous as to what they will expect.” Even though it was against the placement center’s regulations and they could have their license revoked most guides who were familiar with each other often switched clients when it suited their fancy. There were any number of reasons a guide might want a substitute, sometimes guides did not have experience with the host countries language or customs, or they did not want to be guiding in the hottest time of the day, or they traded up for a client they thought would tip better or tip at all for that matter. Typically if anyone else but his friend had asked him he would have discounted it automatically

  “What time is your tour?”

  “It starts at 1100”

  “Oh I apologize that I cannot; I have an interview downtown at 1600 for a possible corporate assignment”

  His friend’s mouth dropped a little and eyes grew wide, “When were you going to tell me, after you move out of this slum. This is great. How did you get this interview? Was it your uncle?”

  “Yes it was from my uncle that I found out about the opportunity but it still took some courage to apply as I am not sure I am qualified.”

  “You should not say things like that. Laksmi will never smile upon you. You know that she only smiles on those who smile themselves. You are one of the best guides I know.”

  “Thank you for reminding me, my friend. Yes, but I am afraid this work would be something different altogether”

  “I’m sure it will be just fine, you know the suits inside and out” he paused “but I have a word of advice” encouraged his friend and leaning in close “When you are interviewed you must listen carefully to what they are asking and only answer that particular question, no more. Do not freely offer more or these foreigners will trick you. They have a way with the use of their language that can be easily misunderstood. My older brother was tricked in such a fashion.”

  “Thank you for your encouragement and advice” Sahil replied with a slight bow “Now back to your original matter, while I cannot take your client I can give you some advice about how to better serve them”

  He commenced to give his friend some sound advice on subtleties and nuisances of clients from Espanola. Sahil had always prided himself in this regard so much so that other guides often came to him for advice. He liked to think that the gods were somehow involved and had whispered in his parent’s ear what they should name him after he was born, for his name translated in English as ‘guide’.

  They reached the guard house of the Taj Mahal compound, showed their chits to the armed guards standing watch and walked through the ornate gothic arch to a side room, next to which hung a neatly hand-painted sign reading ‘ REA Changing Room’.

  They had arrived much earlier than the other guides who would most likely be walking from the Placement Center and so would have their choice of suits to pick from. They handed their chits to the attendant who nodded approvingly before hanging them on a wall of nails. Sahil and his friend spread out to evaluate the suits that were hanging from the racks along the sidewalls. The task was made more difficult by the fact that all the suits were in varying states of disrepair. Sahil found one where he could still read the REA 3.1 emblem on the chest over the heart, this was a promising sign as it indicated that it had not been used enough to have it worn off and would most likely still have most of its systems in good working order. It was nine o’clock and it would take him the full thirty minutes to put his suit and headgear on and have them calibrated properly before his client would be expecting him on-line.

  A throng of young boy attendants come to him begging to be chosen to help him put his suit on for a few rubies. He was not annoyed with them as many were because he had been such a suit-boy when he was young, working his way up the ladder. He picked one and was guided to an open area within the locker room where he could stow his belongings and cloths.

  Despite how these appeared in their
second-hand state the REA suits were very complicated pieces of technology. The suits official title was ‘Remote Experience Apparatus’ or REA for short. They consisted of a skin-tight jumpsuit made of two layers of thin, stretchy light-grey fabric. Woven into these layers were tens of thousands of electro-magnetic nodes spaced at varying distances depending on the body location. The boy helped with the suit, laying it out as a butler might for a wealthy aristocrat with the gloves next to the booties and headgear. The client also wore a similar suit and thru an on-line computer-link could send signals to corresponding nodes on the host suit thus stimulating the host to mimic their actions. If the client raised his hand and pointed the host’s suit would send corresponding signals to stimulate certain muscles thru tiny electro-magnetic currents in the nodes and coax Sahil’s arm to rise and point in a similar pose. If the client walked in-place in a certain direction the host would likewise be coerced into walking in that particular direction. After getting the suit and booties on the boy held out the gloves one by one for Sahil to more easily slide his hands and connected the pig-tail connector to a corresponding one on the suits sleeve. The palm of the glove, having the tightest spaced nodes, had an extra feature of being able to transmit feelings back to the client so that they could, thru the assistance of the suit, simulate the feeling of touching something thousands of miles away. And finally with Sahil in a seated position the boy wrapped the suits hood tightly over Sahil’s head and lifted the head-gear up into place. It was commonly referred to as the “crown” because it loosely resembled a metal band with devices sticking out the bottom and top. The crown comprised of tiny cameras located around the host’s forehead that could transmit 180 degree forward picture to viewing goggles worn by the client. Surround sound could also be transmitted thru microphones and corresponding ear-buds on the client suit. The client usually listened to a pre-recorded audio tour guide but occasionally communicated directly with the host thru a reverse speaker/microphone. A small eye screen also hung down in front of Sahil’s right eye conveying to him computer information. The entire apparatus was connected to a small power pack/processor located at the small of Sahil’s back with enough energy for the 2-hour tour.

  With the suit connected and in place Sahil stood up to ready himself for the Diagnostic Test that needed to be run next to check the initial functionality and connectivity of the suit. He tightened his muscles and girded himself for when this program ran sometimes the nodes that were short-circuited would sting and burn like a spark hitting his bare skin. This is perhaps why the process was often referred to a ‘fusing’ the suits together.

  Once the Diagnostic was complete Sahil was then ready to uplink to his client via the wireless WAP nodes that had been carefully hidden thru-out the compound with just minutes to spare at 9:29. He knew from several of the digits in the up-link code he had written on his hand that the client was from North America. This was pretty typical because after the drying up of the world’s oil reserves transportation around the globe slowed to a crawl. Therefore if you wanted to not only see but experience a World Heritage Site such as the Taj Majal it had become too expensive and time consuming for most to travel to them for leisure. That is where the REA suits come in. The best option was to go to a REA center near you and thru the suits, at a modest fee, you got to control the movements of someone like Sahil on the grounds of the Taj Majahl and experience it surreptitiously. This had been tried with robots but it never quite felt the same, perhaps because the robots movements never quite felt fluid or maybe in part it was the thrill of controlling, albeit momentarily, another human being.

  This is what Sahil found himself doing that humid morning, giving a guided tour and following the impulses coercing him to wander thru the symmetric shelled structure of the palace, tilting his head at the behest of the client to show the light play off the iridescent marble, and feel the intricate stone carvings. Sahil always thought it was odd that what his clients mostly saw were hosts in REA suits milling around in their suits like light-grey manikins wandering alone. Rarely did you actually see a real live person not dressed in a REA suit anymore. He knew some of his fellow countrymen thought that the whole thing was rather demeaning, to essentially be controlled by some wealthy foreigner just to make a few hundred rupees. That is probably where the derogatory term ‘SLAV’ came from referring to the REA host. Sahil saw it more as a stepping stone to greater opportunity but it had not yet materialized so he had tried to not let it get him down. Perhaps the interview he had later in the afternoon would be what he had been looking for, to put all the experience with the suits to some better paying job. He tried to stay positive, there was much going for him like being good at reading the impulses from the suits and making it seem effortless took a certain knack that he seemed to have.

  As soon as his tour ended he quickly took his REA gear off and replaced it in the changing room. This time instead of changing back into the shabby cloths he had on earlier he changed into the best pair of cloths he owned which were not much different but were at least washed and his mother had sewn any holes closed. By now the changing room was packed with other guides trying to pick thru the remaining suits for the best one since it was a first-come first-pick basis, a small argument had even broken out about who was going to get the suit that Sahil had just hung up.

  “I saw it first” said one, “ Sahil promised it to me, didn’t you” countered another but before the man could turn to ask, Sahil was already out the door, down the steps, and headed towards the bus stop. The bus was crowded as it always was and so he had to balance on a ledge that was mounted to the exterior side of the bus with his left arm slung thru a strap bolted above the windows. No one was allowed to ride on top anymore as it was filled with solar cells to add supplemental power to the slow moving steam engine. It took longer than expected to reach the train station, get a ticket, and fight thru the crowds. By then the only place that was available was standing room between the cars and so he climbed up and joined the other unlucky passengers, and a crate of chickens. It would not be a pleasant ride, Sahil had hoped to find a place inside to avoid getting to sweaty and dirty en-route. With any luck the clouds would hold the unrelenting sun at bay. The train ride took about four hours with all the stops and Sahil had somehow nodded off several times even with the noise and anticipation. As the train approached the city, the business district, with loosely spaced towers, became quite clearly visible thru the smoky haze. He could easily pick out the building that was his destination with the giant eye emblem and the sides all clad in shimmering gold of its crystal film photovoltaic facade. Sahil knew that even here in the city that brown-outs or black-outs were a typical, an almost daily, routine unless you had the acreage, either horizontal or vertical, and access to technology to harvest the sun. He thought how ironic it was that the sun can be so hated by some for the hot, humid climate with which it punishes them and others worship it for the abundant energy source that it offers.

  He made his way as quick as he could from the train station to the tower of the Energen Corporation. It always seemed to be looming up ahead and he may lose sight of it momentarily but its distinct shape would always reappear silhouetted in the sky. Fortunately he arrived early and had just enough time to treat himself to a chai-tea from a local cart vender. It would perhaps refresh him a little after the tiring train ride.

  He entered the building through its glistening glass.

  “There are no beggars allowed, you will have to leave.” He heard the harsh tone of one of the security guards.

  “I am not a beggar, I am here for an appointment with a Mister Aiter”

  “Oh, I’m sorry man, we get beggars in here all the time looking for handouts” apologized the guard” I’ll go ahead and ring him if you can wait over there” referring to some stone benches near the entry doors. It was somewhat cooler inside and Sahil welcomed the respite

  It was only a few minutes before a man in a light cotton suit approached him and stretched his hand out and ti
pped his head. “Sahil is it, I’m Mr. Aiter, we’re ready for your interview if you’ll follow me” Sahil shook his hand and accompanied him thru the security checkpoint.

  “Sorry about all the security, you can’t be too careful these days”

  “It is no inconvenience, I understand” stated Sahil in a rather apologetic tone as if he had something to apologize for. He stood stiffly in the magnetic resonance cel to have a full body scan.

  After the checkpoint they took an elevator ride up to one of the many upper levels. All the walls and spaces that they passed thru were quite clean and almost sterile. To Sahil this was in stark contrast to the grime, trash, and pollution outside in the city. Even his own one bedroom apartment could not compare, no matter how much his mother and sister cleaned, it would never come close to looking as clean as this place. He wondered if all of America looked this pristine.

  They finally arrived at a small interior office with only a grey tinted glass table in the middle and some simple chairs around it. It really looked more like an interrogation room than an office. The wall opposite where Sahil sat had on it several screens, cameras, and data ports in it, none of which appeared to be on. Soon after another man dressed in a dark suit came in and sat directly opposite him with Mr. Aiter standing just behind the man’s left shoulder.

  “Sahil Goist, age 26, single, all this data seems pretty straight forward” he stated without even looking at Sahil but instead glancing at a digital display on the surface of the table. He touched a point in the table and reduced the display. The man took out a cigarette from his inside jacket pocket and lite it. Tapping his index finger on the table edge the man looked sternly at Sahil. “I can learn a whole lot of useless facts about you from a computer but that doesn’t tell me if you would be a good fit for us.”

  Sahil wasn’t sure if there was a question buried in the statement or not but he decided to wait.

  “How long have you been a SLAV?”

  “I have worked in the suits for about five years now and before that refurbished them for about two years” Darn it he was already not paying attention and had not followed his friend’s advice, he must remember to only answer the question that was asked and no more.

  “Have you ever used HUSH?”

  It was hard to avoid contact with some effect of the drug, Sahil had known several guides who had gotten addicted to it and were summarily banned from the Placement Center. He saw it in the eyes of the people begging for a few rupees in the street when he walked home at night. A few small puffs or licks to slow the world down, that is all it took. While he had been offered it several times and had had opportunities he had never tried it so he could answer a truthful “No, I have never used it”

  The man tapped a few points on the table screen and glanced at them quickly. From his angle the glare kept Sahil from seeing what the man was looking at.

  “Good, you’re telling the truth at least”

  “How can you know?” replied Sahil nervously.

  “Evidently the suits you have worked with don’t have Lie-Dee. It is a form of lie detector that uses body heat, facial recog, and retinal dilation to determine with a high accuracy if you’re lying. You see those cameras there” he gestured with his cigarette to the cameras on the wall opposite Sahil,”you’re being watched. “

  Sahil looked nervously at the cameras now. How ominous they suddenly appeared

  “Have you ever worked with strength enhancements?” continued the man taking a slow drag from the cigarette.

  Sahil knew of strength enhanced suits but also knew that only the military had been able to pay for the modifications. He had heard a few times that these models were available on the black market. He had seen what a friend had told him were two black market strength enhanced suits fight it out in a brutal kick-boxing match once. This friend of his liked to bet on it and dragged him along. Sahil was astonished how much it affected the characteristics and was glad he was not the one getting beaten to a pulp. He figured that perhaps this was why the man was asking the question to see if he had any connections to the black market and underworld so he answered “No , only the basic systems”

  “What models are you most familiar with?”

  “Mainly the REA 3.1”, good that is a clean and concise response.

  Aiter leaned over and whispered something into the man’s ear and the man nodded. Sahil was not sure if this was good or bad but it made him nervous. He could overhear the man's whispered response, “I'll have to explain it to him. We have few options if he wants this set-up on such short notice”

  “Are you currently engaged?” attention was directed again towards Sahil.

  “Engaged sire?” tilting his head.

  ”Are you currently available for an assignment?”

  “The Placement Center has me on file” hesitant, not sure how to respond.

  “No, you mis-understand me. I mean tonight, we have an assignment for you tonight, if you'd like it” the man took another puff from his cigarette and tilted his head upward slightly blowing the smoke out slowly “Are you up for it?”

  “Most definitely sir” This was more than he had hoped for. His skin began tingling.

  The man rose from his chair, “You do understand that it will require a strict confidentiality agreement? Anything you see, hear, experience is not to be discussed with anyone?” He stated, casually placing his left hand in his pants pocket.

  Before answering Sahil eyes fell on the butt of a gun sticking out from under the man's jacket. ”I believe I understand” Sahil squeaked out with a gulp.

  “Well,” hitting another spot on the table top a 6-inch diameter metal hoop rose up from a crack in the table immediately in front of Sahil.” Why don’t you slip your wrist thru there and my associate here will be sure to get you set up with an account so we can transfer the funds upon completion of the assignment. By placing your wrist thru you are also swearing to the confidentiality standards”

  “We'll see how you do.” The man put out his cigarette on the tabletop and turned to leave without further acknowledgement. Sahil felt obligated to also rise in place, “Thank you so much sir” ingratiating himself with a slight bow.

  “You’ll do just fine” the man slowly replied before exiting the room.

  Mr. Aiter nodded at the hoop and stepped up to the table tapping a whole host of squares. “Your hand?” raising his eyebrows. Sahil dutifully slipped his hand and wrist thru the hoop so it could read his vital information from the digi-chip in his lower right fore-arm.

  “While that is being processed I think we better get you down to the changing chamber and get you oriented” checking his watch, He led the way to the door and started down the hall with Sahil closely in tow.

  “We have just enough time to get you oriented, plus there are a few features that you seem unfamiliar with. Don’t worry about not having any experience with Lie-Dee, you won’t be activating it anyways, the Master is always in control if it. What about FFS? Any experience with that?”

  Sahil was having a hard time concentrating, everything was happening so quickly. He would like nothing better than to get oriented in more ways than one. The maze of corridors and stairs that he was being led thru were dizzying. He had only seen a few people the entire time he had been there and he wondered to himself where everyone was. Sahil suspected that these corporations were either very secretive or sparsely staffed mostly working thru the suits from across the world. “I’m sorry sir I do not know what ‘FFS’ is?”

  “It’s Thin-film facial screen, but don’t worry about that either as it is pretty easy to work” Mr. Aiter threw out rather flippantly. “You’ll be the Host to one of our agents who will also give you directions”

  “A secret agent sir?” After he had said it he realized how silly it sounded. It was obviously the recent string of Bollywood movies that had infiltrated his subconscious.

  Mr. Aiter let out a little laugh at the seeming innocence, “No, just one of our sales agents who needs to
conduct a meeting on rather short notice. You know you really are rather lucky, this meeting request came in an hour ago and all our usual Hosts are already on assignment.”

  “Yes sir, I am very grateful” reflexively giving a slight bow.

  They stopped and Mr. Aiter stood in front of a blank section of wall that had a small rectangular black glass section. Sahil had just now noticed that he had seen no doors on the current level they were on and he thought this odd until Mr. Aiter slid his fore-arm in front of the black glass and punched in a numbered code on the keypad that had become illuminated in the walls surface. The wall to the pads left, almost in front of Sahil, de-materialized revealing a portal to a room. In the room along the left wall were brilliant new suits, the latest models in dark grey and the associated head gear on a shelf above. Sahil could only stop and stare, like gazing into a treasure room. He realized that just one of these suits cost more than Sahil had ever earned in his many years of work and it still probably would not be enough.

  “WWWOOOWWW” Sahil let slip out sounding like a religious mantra.

  Mr. Aiter slowly glided over to the wall of hanging suits and fingered one, “Wow indeed, they certainly have come a long way since those early military models.” Staring blankly off to the side, “And to think that tourism, not business, is now their number one user, seems like such a waste of a tool” he finished with a mournful tone.

  Sahil, with his mouth a gap, was still too stunned to respond.

  “Why don’t you get suited up, you can leave your cloths and things in the box underneath. Don’t worry they will be safe until your return” Mr. Aiter added, somewhat sarcastically. Sahil could tell from the tone in his voice that he did not think Sahil had anything valuable enough to be coveted.

  It was no time before Sahil was suited up and had on the crown. He hardly felt the diagnostic test being done as it was more like a subtle tingling. Despite it being a vastly upgraded model with new features he had little trouble getting a feel for it, literally and figuratively. Then Mr. Aiter gave him a few lessons in the new features that he might be requested to use which he picked up quite quickly.

  “OK, everything seems to be working” Mr. Aiter said standing back and accessing a wall console. “Here is the access code for your up-link thru the city’s cellular network. I have already unlocked the security protocol on the suit so you should be able to access it the same as you do your old 3.1. Also I have been instructed that you carry this satchel containing a couple of gifts. Your master will give you instructions as to their usage when the time comes. Good Luck”

  Sahil typed in the code and the up-link commenced. He always got a little of a rush as this point. The few moments when there was waiting for the connection to be complete, more so now because the entire experience would be new to him. He would not just be wandering around the Taj Mahal this time.

  The first thing the client did was to run his own diagnostics that would synchronize both suits together and take into account the time lag between transmission and reception locations. Within a short time Sahil was directed by the client, via the suit, back thru corridors and lifts to the street level where they caught a bike-shaw. Thank goodness he did not have to find his own way out of that building, he thought, for he would not have been able to. His master spoke to him through the-ear-bud.

  “I have not worked with you before and if I had my way I would have much preferred my usual SLAV but you will have to do.”

  “Yes sire” Sahil replied instantly struck by the Master’s stark honesty.

  “Now, do what I say and don’t hesitate, for the negotiations I am going to be entering may get a little tense. Are you good at impulse reading?”

  “Yes, sire I have been told I am very competent”

  “Good”

  They were carried to a part of town that was strange to Sahil far outside the city center. Darkness had set in and the methane street lights cast sinister shadows across the cityscape. Sahil exited the bike-shaw mid-block, adjacent to an alley entrance.

  He saw a well-dressed figure silhouetted down the alley and thought to himself that it was odd, he definitely looked out of place in this part of town. Could this be their meeting, would it be something as easy as the quick pass of information with this gentleman, that would be marvelous and he would thank Shiva. But the man disappeared into a door. The stench that wafted out of some of the trash cans was quite pungent. They proceeded down the alley and stopped in front of an otherwise non-descript door, he guessed that it was the same one the figure had disappeared into earlier. A small horizontal panel slide open at about eye height in the steel door and two glowing gold eyes appeared.

  “Tell him that ‘All golden flowers will wilt in the Fall’”

  Sahil saw on his eye screen that his client wished him to do the talking for now in native Indian. He hesitated at first not sure how it would translate but then repeated the phrase in Hindi as best he could. The golden eyes narrowed slightly and then the door was slowly opened. As if crawling out, the loud music within spread itself over the section of ally along with a spear of bright light.

  Sahil walked into a wide, well lite hallway and the door was closed and bolted behind him. There was a line of people waiting down at the other end of the corridor but most of his view was blocked by the large bulk of a Samoan. There were a good many of them known to have immigrated to find work as bodyguards or other forms of employment requiring a person of large intimidating stature. Sahil had heard that they supported most of their family back home and were fiercely loyal. The Samoan looked over his shoulder at a small man in a hat and loose fitting dark suit sitting on a stool with his back against the wall. The man was wearing dark glasses and had a handgun holster strapped to his shoulder.

  “A SLAV huh, not much to search then except maybe that satchel”

  He heard his client say to tell them that “We have an appointment with Mister Groueta. The satchel contains two gifts for him.” Sahil could feel his arms coaxed to hold the satchel open for the Samoan to look inside. This was the first that even Sahil had gotten a look at what was inside but even then he realized like the Samoan that it was pretty much worthless as the two objects inside were wrapped neatly in palm leaves and tied with hemp rope. One could only discern that one was bigger than the other and even the largest was no larger than the size of a loaf of bread.

  “Can’t tell what they are, they is all wrapped up.” muttered the Samoan in his heavy low voice over to the man on the stool.

  “Well then have it scanned and while that is being done check the source on this SLAV, I want to make sure he’s not just trying to slip in here for a good time because he found a fancy suit” he snarled back from his perch.

  Sahil removed the satchel and handed it over at his clients request so it could be placed in an alcove in the wall. The laser scan began and the Samoan inserted a USB plug from the wall into a corresponding tail at the back of Sahil’s headgear.

  “So Mister Groueta huh” said the man on the stool to pass the time “an appointment with the Slum King himself, you must be pretty important?”

  “Important enough to know my place” his client had Sahil respond.

  The man on the stool grew tense and straightened up which made the hair on the back of Sahil’s neck stand-up as well. “Does he check out, because I’d like nothing better than to kick this piece of trash out” the bravado was clear.

  The Samoan confirmed that the source code checked out and the satchel contained no metal or explosives. Checking the computer screen in the wall he also confirmed that the source was on a list of people being expected.

  “That is lucky” the man on the stool paused “for you. You better watch it in there SLAV, you may get more than an eyeful” he laughed at his own joke. Sahil took back the satchel and started down the corridor stopping very close to the man on the stool. While this made Sahil feel very uncomfortable, like he was invading someone else’s personal space, his client had maneuvered him into this p
osition.

  “Where can I find Mister Groueta?” his client had Sahil ask, again in his native tongue. It was hard for him to convey the tone thru language but he did the best he could.

  “Down the hall, across the club, behind the golden curtain on the right.” He said under his breath, waving permission at another Samoan at the club end of the corridor.

  The music was much louder out in the night-club proper and it was dark with pools of light where girls were dancing. You could tell there was activity going on in the darkness but much of it was left to the imagination. His client could change the view-mode on the cameras to infra-red to guide his actions but Sahil had to be content with his own eyes. The perimeter of the warehouse space vanished into the blackness, and there were curtains forming circles at the perimeter, like enclosed pods. Sahil guessed the curtains with vibrant lighting on them must be private lounges within the club proper.

  Making his way across the room towards the gold curtain was uneventful as his Master guided his actions using infra-red. He was greeted by another Samoan where Sahil was prompted to say “I am Mister Hawthorne with the Ener-Gen Corporation, I have an appointment with Mister Groueta.” The Samoan parted the curtain allowing him to enter. This is definitely not what Sahil was thinking when he was informed that he would be a Host to a sales agent. What was he doing here in a night club in the slum area of the city? Was this real business or was the agent just going for a joy ride?

  Sahil felt the suits sensors coercing him into a ritualistic bow with his two hands praying in front of him. Within the curtained enclosure was a well-dressed man, thick mustache partially concealing the chubby nature of his face. He was reclining on a bed of cushions and pillows with two beautiful women, one on either side. Sahil’s attention was first drawn to the two women for they were dressed in tight fitting saris with the one on right having allowed her blouse to drape to her waist revealing her supple breasts. Both women seemed to have an air of listlessness. He then noticed that his client was requesting that he activate the thin-film facial screen and so he activated the screen on the visor and touched the sensor at his temple. It took a few seconds but the face of Sahil’s client appeared on a semi-transparent screen that had dropped down in front of his face. He had a hard time getting used to the fact that the man lounging across from him was now looking at his clients face and could not see his thru the one-way viewing film, but even more than that it was getting used to having the image of someone else's face literally just a few millimeters in front of your own.

  “I ask your forgiveness for not being able to be here in person” came his client’s voice thru micro speakers in his headgear.

  “Yes, I would have rather thought you'd have wanted to come down here instead of sending a SLAV. Afraid to come to this part of town?” the fat man guffawed glancing up at another Samoan bodyguard as if to confirm the validity of his joke.

  “Unfortunately I am no longer in India and the trip alone would have taken weeks. This seemed much too important to let it wait that long if you have what you say you have.” stated his client without skipping a moment.

  “Of course I understand” the man stated lazily. Sahil was so glad that the conversation had progressed in English and his translation services were no longer needed. He did not feel confident that he would have been able to follow the conversation, yet alone translate as rapidly or with the correct emphasis. “I would offer you some of our local rice liquor” the man said gesturing to the bottles and glasses on the low table in front of him “but I’m afraid it would be lost on your SLAV”

  “No offense, I understand” Sahil saw that his client was typing in a message on his eye screen emphasizing that he should only take the larger of the two packages out of the satchel, then almost immediately he felt his hands tingle and direct him to raise his hands to the Samoan guard and slowly reach his right hand into the satchel at his side grabbing only the larger of the two packages and bringing it out in front of him. The Samoan guard reached into his jacket and took a small step forward but was stopped by the raised hand of the lounging man.

  ” A gift for you” his client said placing it on the table. The man reached across and unwrapped the dried palm leaves from around the object to reveal a squarish bottle of amber liquid. “Some of the highest quality premium western whiskey”

  “Very nice” bouncing his head up and down several times. The man unstopped the cap and brought it to his nose to take a deep wiff “mmm by the angels share, it is so sweet’

  He poured a small amount into one of the empty glasses lying scattered about the table and once again brought to his nose.

  “Is this what you have been hiding in that giant phallus of a building across town?” he did not wait for an answer before holding the glass out to the woman relaxing on his left. “Here my little pretty have a taste of this.”

  In a bit of a haze the woman smiled a broad grin and leaned forward slightly tipping and taking the glass from him in the same motion letting the amber liquid flow into her mouth, she put the glass down and licked her lips methodically. Sahil suspected then that this was why the two women were acting so aloof. The women must be strung out on HUSH for this was one of the prominent methods for the drug to be ingested, by applying it to your lips like lip-gloss and then either licking your own lips occasionally to keep the buzz going or kiss and lick others lips.

  “I hear you may have something of interest relating to the subject we spoke about earlier”

  “Oh straight to business, that is what I like about you foreigners, always kindly dispensing with the local customs” the man said wagging a finger at him. “What do you think about that my dear” turning to the woman on his right who just giggled and began playing with his hair.

  “You eluded that this was important, that you may have evidence, so I thought I would not waste your valuable time any more than was needed.”

  “ Very kind of you, girls please leave us and have a little dance together, you know how I like it when you dance” The two women reluctantly left thru the back of the curtain circle, the latter one almost stumbling, barely able to keep herself upright.

  The man took his time in responding and sipped from a goblet that he had been drinking earlier. “Of course I have news, well I must say so myself, it is really more than just evidence, I got my hands on a stable sample”

  “A stable sample? We are talking about a cold-fusion reaction held stable within a containment shell?” Sahil felt himself having his head tilted as he leaned forward.

  “I thought it was something you may be interested in but it will cost you”

  His client seemed to regain a bit of his composure “An actual stable sample, how could you have managed such a thing, I won’t believe it until I see it, if you will excuse my disbelief.”

  “How could I have managed? Oh my how you underestimate my ability and connections. When have I failed to deliver for you before?” The man let this linger in the air.

  “The kind of compensation you would inevitably expect could not be delivered without confirmation”

  “I would expect nothing less” the man stated and leisurely leaned forward tapping in a code on a portion of the table top that was not cluttered with plates and glasses. Slowly a section of the table, a cube approximately 30cm square rose up from the surface immediately in front of the man. He reached in as it must have been open facing him and extracted a cube about 15cm square holding it in his palm. At first from this distance it only appeared to be a black glass cube with an iridescent shimmer, but as the man held it out and Sahil felt his hands reach out to take it his view changed. His client had Sahil gingerly clasping the cube between his thumb and forefinger and slowly moving it to see it from multiple angles. At this close range Sahil could tell the cube was far more complex than it first appeared. Not knowing anything about what he was looking at the best he could do to describe it would be a bright greenish-blue light in the center with intricate, constantly shifting patterns rotating slow
ly inside. The filigree of patterns seemed to be in multiple layers like there were multiple nested cubes inside one another and as they shifted the glowing light would be visible thru slits and cracks of the overlapping silhouetting patterns. He was almost too fascinated to feel the impulse to raise his left palm up and set the cube gently down upon it. As his fingers pulled away he noticed that the location where his fingers had been glowed with residual phosphorescence that slowly faded. Sahil’s gaze was still riveted to the cube, hypnotized by its strangely familiar shifting patterns, like he had seen them somewhere before, a spark of recognition that would not catch fire.

  “To think that the greatest scientists and physicists from around the world have been working on this conundrum of how to stably contain cold-fusion for decades and here in India of all places they found the solution” mused his client out loud.

  “Indeed” laughed Mister Groueta” you in the first world have left us to our own devices, practically abandon us and here we have found a way to harness the reaction”

  “It makes me want to cry. This could be a real game changer. The instability of cold-fusion reactions have long been known and all attempts have failed rather explosively. There is no telling how long this will hold or even if it will sustain itself” replied his client, returning his attention to the man.

  “Well I’m certainly not going to let you walk out of here with it for testing” his laugh broke down into a hoarse cough.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Just a hundred thousand, that is all”

  Even Sahil knew that while several hundred thousand rupees was more than he would make in his lifetime it was not really a whole lot when exchanged for American dollars or even Chinese Yen ever since the exchange rates plummeted years before and never recovered. This did not seem like a whole lot of money.

  “A hundred thousand? Hundred thousand what” a tentative reply

  “Yes, a hundred thousand shares in your company of course. You didn’t think I was talking about this worthless currency I use to wipe my ass with, did you” the man laughed again, this time at his own joke “Once this gets out they will be worth ten times what they are currently worth.” Sahil’s mouth almost dropped open, he did not understand a whole lot about stocks and the way they worked, only rudimentary, but he could discern that it would be more money than he could earn in all lifetimes of reincarnations of the Brahma.

  “That is far more than I am currently authorized to offer” his client stated bluntly, setting the cube back on the table.

  “Well then why did you come if you were not prepared, ha” jabbed the man.

  “When we communicated you stated that it was the schematic model not an actual stable sample. Where are the schematics?” countered his client.

  “argh, the schematics, puuu” the man said spitting to the side “What good are the schematics if you have the real living thing in its place? Huh”

  Sahil could see thru the screen that a grin had developed on his clients face.” So you don’t have the schematics do you?” he slowly ascertained.

  The man looked away sheepishly.

  “Now how did you manage to get your hands on the living sample and not the schematics?” mused his client.

  “They were destroyed” admitted the man speaking to the side without looking back.

  “Destroyed? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, the ‘accident’ that my insider must have arranged was far more than he had anticipated after sending this cube on its way” he said gesturing towards the cube “That is all that remains after the explosion obliterated the facility. Even my insider was killed, ha if he hadn’t than I would have killed him myself, the worthless cock-roach.”

  “So how long will it take you to get the schematics?”

  “Did you not hear me, the facility was completely obliterated. The research was being conducted in the utmost secrecy and foremost security, so much so that all the information was held in that one location. It was like putting all the golden gooses in one coop, all it takes is one predator to kill the whole flock. Believe me I have made inquiries, the inspiration has been lost. Everything was destroyed, the lab, records, computers, the scientists and engineers, all gone. What you see before you is the only evidence left that it ever existed, take it or leave it, I could care less.”

  Sahil saw on the tiny eye screen that his client had activated the Lie-Dee to verify the Slum King was speaking the truth. Sahil could feel his hand being directed to reach up towards his fore-head and then stopped it short, realizing that his client must have been bringing his hand reflexively up to his own forehead in dismay and then quickly withdrawing it.

  “Without the schematics this cube is practically worthless, it may take years before the secrets of its structure are deciphered and pried from it. By then one of our competitors will have no doubt cornered the market.” His client gave a dramatic pause. ”I’m prepared to offer you 3 million rupees for it now, cash on the spot” Sahil felt his hands coerced into the satchel once more and withdrew the smaller rectangular shaped package that was about two-inches thick still tightly wrapped in palm leaves. The Samoan had placed his hand on his gun in its holster but did not step forward this time.

  The lounging man rubbed his stubble chin and pursed his lips. It seemed to Sahil that an eternity went by before he responded. ”You insult me with your offer, this is a live sample” the man stated gesturing once more towards the cube, still glimmering. “I should take it and offer it to one of your competitors, huh, perhaps a bidding war would rattle those purse strings of yours?”

  The tension in the air had become quite palpable even from half way across the world.

  The client still had Sahil’s hand grasping the rectangular package held in the direction of the man. “Are you sure you will not take my offer” enunciated slowly.

  “I understood your offer and it is perfectly clear that it was an insult” firmly stated the man.

  “If that is truly what you wish” before Sahil could tell what was happening his thumb on top of the package had been impelled to press down sharply and out of the short end of the package facing the man shot a projectile, a dart that struck him in the neck. His arm was then quickly coerced into rotating and shooting a dart at the Samoan standing behind and to the right of the man. Despite his bulky form he was far faster than one might think and had removed his gun with silencer from its holster and fired one shot as the drug in the dart was taking effect. The hulk fell forward into a heap on the couch.

  Sahil stood still even with electrical impulses from his client telling him to move. “Are you alright? Are you shot?”

  The client did not get an immediate response and so called again over the ear-buds with increased urgency, clearly pronouncing each word “Are… you… alright?”

  Sahil snapped out of it long enough to stammer “No I don’t believe I am injured, but ….” He found no words to comprehend what had just taken place. Thoughts swirled in his head. Were these men dead? Had he just been accomplice to killing them? He had imagined things like this might happen in the underworld but it was illegal, against all international laws, breaking the Treaty of Cairo under penalty of death, or so he had heard. After an especially poignant set of circumstances decades prior, before he was born, all countries where REA suits were used signed onto an international agreement that no host would be used to “violently cause injury to other humans or knowingly place hosts in harm’s way”. After the suits had been used in small military operations it became quite clear that they would lead to mercenary armies of untrained poor being controlled by wealthy nations. The latter half of the agreement referred to an extreme experience that had been cultivated in the maniacal minds of the outrageously wealthy looking for “the next big thrill”. Dirt poor people from the third world would be hired for a relatively small amount of money but a fortune to the poor person’s family. These poor would then be outfitted in a REA suit and be coerced to do bizarre stunts such as jumping to the
ir deaths off high cliffs or stand on train tracks as a train runs them over all for the client to get a rush of what it must feel like to be in such a situation. It became a dangerous pastime, so popular that many countries were in revolt if something was not done to protect their citizens from such unscrupulous behavior.

  Now Sahil realized that he may have participated in breaking this treaty and could possibly be sentenced to death.

  “Listen to me. We have to get out of here, don’t worry about them, they are just sleeping, the micro-darts were filled with a powerful sleeping agent.” stated the client clearly but with a stern tone, sensing the involuntary resistance thru the suit. “The loud music and activity in the club will buy us some time and with any luck they will not notice what has happened until after we are gone but we must be quick.”

  Sahil swallowed hard” Alright I am ready.”

  “First turn the FFA off and re-tract the screen, then do exactly what I tell you when I tell you” Sahil couldn’t think about what would happen if he did not follow the instructions for the danger know was quite palpable. He did as he was told

  “OK now” Sahil felt his motions being coaxed by the client, slowly at first. He looked and reached down to take the cube from its resting place on the table but his hand stopped short. The light surrounding the cube had grown brighter at the back side. Something was wrong. Moving around slowly to get a view of the other side of the cube it became clear why. A series of cracks radiating out from the edge had begun to develop.” Dam it” His gaze was shifted to the Samoan’s gun laying on the floor at the base of the couch were it had come to rest “He must have shot it as he was falling, his bullet must have ricochet off it” he could hear the client say to himself. “All these long years and to be so close just to have it ripped away at the last moment” he mused.

  Gingerly Sahil’s hands were guided down to the cube but as the tips of his fingers came in contact with the cube the reception from the up-link began to fill with static in his ear. He could just make out “…..don’t…work……signature gets stron……”

  The cracking cobweb on the surface of the cube had now begun to spread and more light seemed to seep out. Several of the hairline cracks had turned the edge of the cube onto different sides. Sahil withdrew his hand and the static seemed to lessen but was still present “The cube if ……unstable may cause interfere….. You have to get out of…….be cut…”

  Then the connection went silent. The signal indicator in his left eye screen went down to zero. This had never happened to Sahil before; he had never had the up-link signal on a suit got out spontaneously. He kept waiting for the electrical impulses to push his muscles and limbs, to give them guidance but nothing came, like a loyal dog told to stay after his master has left. What was he waiting for? Should he attempt to reestablish the up-link. All this internal debate while the cube began to crack even more, the soft green light now gave a distinct glow to the whole interior of the curtained area. What had the client said, ‘unstable’, maybe the instability of the cube was causing interference with the connection and if he could just get outside he could re-connect. That is what he must do, but he must be quick as the client had said. As he paused at the curtain seam he looked back at the cube and saw the cracks had begun to creep around the entire cube. He glanced at the gun, should he take the gun? No, he was already in enough hot water he decided.

  He parted the curtain and glanced out, the club did not seem to have noticed anything had gone wrong. The Samoan who had been at the curtain earlier was off to the side breaking up a disagreement and the music was as loud as ever. Many of these people were probably strung out on HUSH anyways, they would hardly notice.

  Sahil reminded himself that he must continue to act like he was under the control of his client or anyone who happened to notice might become suspicious. He slipped out, letting the curtain fall closed behind him and started around the circulation area towards the place he had entered. Even under his own control he could not avoid getting jostled several times by drunk partying men crowded around naked women giving shows.

  “hey SLAV watch where you’re going!!” one of them glowered. He was abruptly pulled back into the group he was with rolling glowing dice at the bare feet of a naked table dancer. He moved on with as much haste as he thought practical. The fact that the REA suit had a slight shimmer and shown distinctly in the black-lites did nothing but draw attention to him, rather than away. As he approached the entry corridor he slipped into the shadows for a moment and glanced back nervously at the curtained pavilion he’d left. There was a greenish glow coming out the open top and reflection off some of the structure above but if you were not looking for it this would easily get lost in the confusion of the club. He noticed that the Samoan guard had finished with the scuffle and was slowly returning to his former position at the curtain seam. He quickly ducked into the entry corridor and half-walked half-run towards the entry. Sahil stopped short realizing there was still the doormen to deal with. Fortunately the Samoan doorman was busy patting down some new customer against the wall, the man on the stool seemed to be looking on but it was hard to tell exactly where his attention was with the dark glasses on. Sahil nervously looked back at the end of the corridor, it was only a matter of moments before the guard realized what had happened and would send out the alarm. He had heard rumors the same as everyone of what the Slum King did to people who crossed him, and while he was only a REA host he was sure the vengeance would be taken out on him as an example. There was no way he could get out of this. Adrenaline bubbled over and he darted for the entry door, throwing the bolt and pushing it open as he hurtled out into the night. The alley outside was a stark contrast to the busy club and it only took a moment’s hesitation before he was running down the alley. Darkness and shadows concealed his path. It was all done without thought stumble running. He was a good ways down the alley when his lower leg came in contact with something hard sending him sprawling on the cobblestones, the crown hitting the ground snapping the visor and damaging the cameras. He crawled into an alcove behind some trash bins and piled garbage.

  Peeking out he looked back up the alley half expecting to see the Samoan guard upon him. The door to the club was still open, spilling light and sound out into the darkness of the alley. Silhouetted in the light was the figure of a man and he could barely hear the words he was yelling. Perhaps they had not noticed anything was wrong, that he was just another drunk SLAV. Then he saw the Samoan guard come bursting out and start yelling in a low rumble at the man in the alley. His head turned with the wide eyes of accusation in Sahil’s direction as he reached for his gun holster

  Sahil was about to pull his head back and spring from his hiding place to escape when it happened. His mouth dropped open, stunned, not believing his eyes At first it was a low rumble, the ground gave a slight shutter an instant before a huge explosion enveloped the center of the block were the club was located. Fire and debris shot out of the clubs entry door throwing the guard and silhouetted figure like rag dolls slamming into the opposite wall. A fire ball and smoke rose into the stillness of the hot night lighting it up like day-time for a moment. Even at this distance debris was raining down all around him. The initial blast had the tinge of a peculiar green color and he had no doubt that the cube must have caused it, or more accurately, been the explosion.

  Sahil seemed stuck to the spot, unable to do anything but stare as paranoia began to percolate. He knew he had to get as far from here as possible before any authorities arrived. An unattended Host out this late in this part of town, especially in the vicinity of such an explosion would only draw suspicion. After stumbling to the alley entryway he glanced suspiciously around verifying the only motion he could see on the street was blocks away, then he sprinted across the street and into the alley entry-way across, trying to stay out of the dim orbs of light produced by methane lamps lining the street. Thoughts assaulted his mind as he realized that there were many in the club who had seen and could recognize him. Wa
it, it was dark and the REA suit must make it very difficult to accurately identify him. It seemed plausible that only his client could identify him. There was no way the client was going to report this if there was the appearance he was more complicit. Were there any security cameras? He could not immediately remember. At the Taj Mahal, cameras were placed in highly visible and distinctive areas so as to discourage illegal behavior but in a club they could have been anywhere and with infra-red lenses. Panic began to set in. What should he do? He frantically tried to up-link and re-establish the connection with his client in hopes that he would know what to do, but something either with the disturbance of the cube or when he fell must have damaged the apparatus and it would not work.

  He was still wearing their state-of-the-art REA suit and could be prosecuted if found with it if picked up by the CSP, City Security Police. Even if he did have a contract with Ener-gen for tonight’s service that did remove the idea of being found guilty of trying to escape and sell the suit on the black market. It would not be the first time that had happened. There were even worse outcomes, although he had a hard time believing there could be something worse than 20 years in the hard labor camps, but he could be spotted and picked up by the powerful gangs that roam and claim to control this neighborhood. As often as they could get away with it the gangs would grab SLAVs off the street and repurpose the suit for some nefarious activity after wiping it clean and disposing of the individual in it. If that happened there was no telling where it could lead except that it would probably end in his death.

  ‘What am I going to do’, Sahil thought to himself, hunched over, head between his outstretched hands. The first notion he came up with was he should just wait here to be found via the embedded GPS and Ener-Gen personnel would surely be sent out to track him down and rescue him. This almost seemed laughable though and the chances of being picked up by CSP if he just stayed in one place, this close to the disaster, was far greater and painted him with suspicion. Anyways there was no telling if the GPS tracker was still working. Sahail glanced up at the same time he made the conclusion that his only way out, the only way to not turn a bad situation worse, was to successfully return to the Ener-Gen building. At the opposite end of the alley, framed in the night sky, was the glowing façade of the Ener-Gen building with the symbol, an eye with a lightning bolt thru it, clearly emblazoned amongst the stars. The one haven he could go to. The sanctuary that sang the sweetest song.

  He quickly popped out on the next street and happened to instinctively flag down a lone bike-shaw as it was most likely the quickest way back across town. As the bike-shaw wheeled to a stop adjacent to him he saw the black wireless box on the back of the pedal bar and realized his mistake. He can’t pay, let alone get authorized for, a ride on the bike-shaw without his uplink, not wearing a REA suit at least.

  “Sorry, change of mind, we’re going to walk tonight,” quickly waving on the driver who moved along after casting a suspicious eye.

  He began to weave his way across town, guided by the occasional glimpse of the giant Ener-Gen eye. The phosphorescent symbol on the façade would stay lite for most of the night, using the previous day’s sunlight as stored energy but it would begin to dim as the night wore on. If the waning beacon were to get lost in the early morning clouds he may not be able to find his way back. This is how worry slithered its way back into his thoughts as he crept on the edge of shadows.

  Was there any record that he had been at the club or had it all been destroyed in the explosion, he could not be sure one way or the other. He now remembered that there had been a security camera in the entry vestibule. His only hope was that the feed had been stored locally and thus destroyed. What about the security men that had been out in the alley at the time? Were they dead? If they weren’t would they be able to identify him?

  If there was some question in his mind earlier if he had violated the Treaty of Cairo when shooting the men with “sleeping” darts than there was no doubt now as he realized how many dead there must be. The authorities would surely be out scouring the area for clues and there now seemed several streams of incriminating evidence leading back to him. All they needed was a scapegoat and, ironically, the grey suit gave him the subtle shade of a real goat. It almost made him want to laugh if the circumstances were not so dire.

  Sahil tried to stay at the edge of shadows to avoid any hint of attention but he suspected that even the shadows had eyes. Once he held his breath waiting several aggravating minutes while two men silhouetted at the end of an alley whispered in the shadows. He thought he would be accosted for sure by these gang members so his SLAV suit could be stripped down and sold on the black market. The gangs had technicians who knew how to strip out the GPS tracker and on-line transmitter before selling the more valuable parts.

  The night air grew chill as the Ener-Gen eye grew larger in his view. Soon, despite several close calls Sahil found himself across from the glass entry he had entered many hours before in search of a job. He could see in the glowing interior the man he knew as Mr. Aiter, in his off-white cotton suit, pacing back and forth inside.

  “What a relief. I watched the whole encounter via the relay but then the transmission when out and the GPS went all haywire so we had no tracking capability on the suit.” Mr. Aiter belched forward as Sahil timidly stepped through the glass doors.

  “I’m sorry sire, there is possibly damage to the suit” squeaked out of wide-eyed Sahil apologetically.

  “No worries” brushing off some debris on the suit and visually inspecting it, “I think we can chalk that up to extraordinary circumstances, hell I’m just happy to have the suit back. You did just well. Follow me and we’ll get you changed and on your way.”

  In the elevator on the way up Sahil started “But what I, what we did? It was …”

  “Don’t worry SLAV, there is no evidence,” interrupted the businessman in a reassuring tone reminiscent of that used for talking to children “the uplink approval was via a false feed and the account is nearly impossible to trace. There is no one who can associate you with what happened, except us” then looking away he mused more to himself than Sahil in particular, “Boy it was unfortunate that the sample was lost though. It would have offered a hope for the future, practically the key to unlimited energy. If what that man said was true there is no way of even knowing what inspired the design of the containment cube, let alone find out how they were able to hold the reaction stable, well we’re shit out of luck.” Then as if remembering his place Mr. Aiter turned his head and barked, “You keep your mouth shut about what happened. Remember that non-disclosure statement or there will be consequences.”

  After changing back into his street cloths and slinging his travel sack over his shoulder Mr. Aiter guided him back to the entry, which was still quite void of activity being the middle of the night. Before turning and heading off Mr. Aiter put a hand on Sahil’s shoulder and looked him in the eye, “You did good tonight, we’ll be in touch about future assignments. If anyone gets in touch with you, confronts you with questions about last night you deny everything and then get in touch with me” he said while flicking a business chip to Sahil, “OK”.

  “Yes, sire, I will” came obediently thru a deep breath.

  “Now besides being able to use that chip to contact me you can use it to get a ticket on the next train home. Now I have some damage control to do, Good luck” Mr. Aiter stated before sending Sahil off into the night and turning back towards the security checkpoint.

  Sahil was just able to get a ticket on the last night train to leave for Agra. Exhaustion overtook him and he fell into a fit-full rest. When he came to it was still dark outside and he noted that he was near his station.

  Sahil, still exhausted, made his way thru the night streets to his apartment building near the Taj Mahal compound. Dragging himself up the five flights of stairs and reaching the landing he hesitated. He didn’t want to go in right away, afraid he would wake his mother and sister. Instead he went up one more flight
to the roof terrace where the slight breeze might bring some clarity to his thinking, settling his nerves about what had happened that night.

  He put his head in his hands leaning on the parapet. The Taj mahal was visible a short distance away all lite up with the solar-cel powered LED spot lights. Sahil gaze was drawn to it with a muted stare like a moth drawn to an electric bulb but then something in his brain began to click, like a bubbles popping or an electrical pulse fussing wires together, connections were being made. The deja-vu feeling he had had in the night club gazing at the cube.

  There was something about the Taj Mahal’s shape, it’s symmetry, intricate carvings, and overlapping volumes. Sahil’s familiarity with it had been fused in his mind. The energy cube, that he had just been holding in these very hands a short time ago, and the palaces shape merged into one. He raised his hand, palm up, so that from his perspective the glowing temple seemed to sit on his palm. The physical memory that his fingers held after tracing the bas relief pattern on the stones on the interior and exterior of the palace during his many long tours all came flooding back to him. Could it be possible? Then came the realization that the structure of the containment cube that had sat in his very hands earlier in the evening, which had been the salvation of all the energy problems that had plagued the earth, was seemingly all inspired by the natural designs within the Taj Mahal itself. The solution had been staring them in the face, revealed with each dawn, and only he now knew this secret. He slumped against the wall dazed, under the weight of possibilities and what to do with such knowledge, wondering if he was dreaming of the Taj Mahal as he often did, just as first light cast a glow on the horizon and the street below began teetering to life.

  Afterword

  That brings this series of stories to an end. Hope you enjoyed then as much as I did creating them. There were about half dozen more tales that are partially finished or in the early stages of conception that I could not get to before the deadline for publishing this, which was my half-century birthday. Perhaps they will have to wait for a later publication. I have also experimented with self-binding them, my first fora into that kind of endeavor, so you’ll have to excuse them if they came out crude.