The Rebirths of Tao

by Wesley Chu

  Roen

  Timestamp: 2571

  It took me a while to realize that my head was empty. Tao was strangely silent. At first, I thought he was – I don’t know – sleeping or something. Maybe he was just letting me rest. I tried to speak to him; asked how he was doing. He didn’t answer.

  After a day of silence, I thought he might have been injured as well. I did get busted up pretty good after all. At no point did I ever think that my best friend was no longer with me. That would have to mean that I was dead, right?

  * * *

  Roen brought up the evening dishes and found Jill and Rin relaxing over a glass of wine. The scientist was the only one currently allowed in the farmhouse. Sachin had vouched early on for her, and the scores of documentation she had already handed over were one of the first things the Keeper had verified. Her defection was the real deal, and now an army of Prophus scientists were poring over each and every file.

  Roen grimaced at the mound of dishes piled up in the sink. He and Jill had an agreement; if one of them cooked, the other cleaned. One of the stark realities of being a secret agent that people never realized from movies and books was that there was no cleaning service on secret bases. It was great that they lived hidden on the edge of a forest, but acquiring monthly supplies for the operation without attracting attention required a feat of logistics that Nathanael Greene, who incidentally had been a Prophus, would approve of.

  The worst part was, even though the rest of the refugees were still technically his prisoners, Roen was currently acting as the prisoners’ butler, bringing them food and sundries upon request. While all had agreed to turn to the Prophus cause, they hadn’t earned his trust yet. The information they had provided him could prove valuable, but their intel had to be checked and cross-referenced before he really believed they had changed sides. If verified, Roen and Jill would have scored a trove of sensitive intelligence. Until then, he couldn’t be sure the prisoners weren’t double-crossing the Prophus, so they had to stay in their cells. There was no way he’d let them near his family, so for now, he was relegated to butler duty.

  Jill finished her glass of wine and shook it at him. Roen obliged and brought over the eight-dollar container of chardonnay they had stacked by the crate in storage. “Madam,” he purred in an exaggerated fashion. “Your box.” He motioned to Rin who raised her glass as well.

  “Thank you, Alfred,” she answered, craning her neck up to kiss him. “Now, my grapes.”

  “We’re fresh out, but I believe we have a box of raisins.” He put the box down and headed out of the kitchen.

  “Hey, what about the dishes?”

  “Cameron’s training right now. I’ll do it after he goes to bed. I want to talk to Tao for a bit.”

  “Likely excuse, mister.”

  As he left the kitchen, he heard Jill tell Rin, “God, I love that man.” It made him feel good. The two of them had gone through a rough patch years back when things had really turned south for the Prophus. Roen had left Jill and newborn Cameron to follow the rumors of the secret Quasiform project, and though his suspicions were proven correct and the scale of the secret Genjix project was even larger and more terrible than anyone could have expected, Roen knew he had been wrong listening to Tao and abandoning his family.

  He had spent the next few years intent on repairing their damaged relationship, and now, even in these dire times, they were stronger than ever. It was a massive hole in his heart that he had finally filled. That left only one other hole, one that had no fix.

  He went to the attached garage, where the gym and training room was located. There, in the center of a padded area, his fifteen year-old son was flowing through a complex Chen t’ai chi straight sword form more smoothly than he ever could, even at his peak. Roen couldn’t help but smile watching the motions. Cameron was a prodigy. Tao’s ego must be bursting at the seams.

  “Hi, Roen,” said Cameron.

  “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Dad?” Roen growled.

  “Sorry. Tao’s words,” he replied, not breaking form at all. White-snake-spits-out transitioned to black-dragon-swings-tail. “We’ve been working on getting better talking as one person.” Luo-Han-subdues-dragon flowed into black-bear-turns-backward.

  Roen wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of that. Tao inhabiting his son was a prickly point. He had dreamed of passing Tao along to Cameron, but had thought it would happen when he was at the ripe old age of eighty something, preferably on his death bed.

  It took him a long time to reconcile with the reality that his old friend was no longer with him. He still hadn’t gotten over it, and while he loved his son more than life itself, he couldn’t help but feel robbed of his years with Tao. Being jealous of your teenage son felt wrong, but Roen couldn’t explain it any other way. He longed to have Tao back in his head, not only for the friendship, but for his mentor’s wisdom and assurance.

  When he was with Tao, Roen remembered being decisive. He never second-guessed himself and always felt that he, with Tao’s input of course, made the best possible decisions when presented with difficult choices. There was an empowerment to that confidence, and he loved feeling that way every day he lived his life as a host. Now, it was missing, and like a recovering addict, he longed to find and feel that confidence again.

  When Cameron had still been figuring out who this new voice in his head was, Roen had tried to be there to smooth the transition. However, as with most young children, Cameron had taken the new change in his stride. Within a few months, Tao speaking in his head had felt as natural as everything else in his life.

  Now, Roen was pretty sure that he was only the third most important person in Cameron’s life, after Tao and Jill. How could he compete, after all? With Jill, it was the way it should be. She had been there for Cameron when Roen had had to leave them. She had always been the better parent, anyway. She deserved to have more of the boy’s love. Tao jumping in front of him for his son’s affection and priority hurt. The truth was, though, how do you compete against a voice in his head with him all the time?

  By the time Cameron was five, against the wishes of both of his parents, he began training to fight, first in boxing, then in Shaolin Fist and Fanzi Fist, and then in t’ai chi, Ba Gua Zhang, and Hsing Yi Quan. Basically, his son had learned more martial arts in a few short years than Roen had in a lifetime. By the time he was six, he had shot his first gun. Now, at fifteen, Cameron was well on his way to becoming that rare Prophus equivalent of an Adonis Vessel, and it worried his parents. This was the last thing they wanted for him.

  Even worse, his son being a host so early made him a very vulnerable target, especially with the invention and miniaturization of the Penetra scanner. Not only were the Genjix after them, but most of the advanced countries on this planet were as well. These days, their enemies flanked them on all sides and numbered greater than they had at any other time in their history.

  “Let’s see what you got,” Roen said, lunging halfheartedly with a stick. Swordplay was not his strong suit; there wasn’t much call for that in their line of work. Still, Tao insisted that it was an important part of the boy’s training.

  Cameron switched out of his form, parried Roen’s thrust with his sword, and pressed the attack. Roen danced out of the way, circling to his right and beaming with pride as his son moved with the skill and instinct of a master swordsman. They clashed a few more times, each blow just short of hitting its mark.

  Roen was always surprised at how fluid and natural his son’s movements were. In a few years, when he grew into manhood, Cameron would become one of the finest hosts the Prophus had ever had, his father had no doubt of that. That fact also terrified Roen. Cameron already acted much older than his fifteen years, and he carried a seriousness that was eerie for someone so young. Blame or praise for that could be squarely put at Tao’s feet.

  “Not like you came out so well-adjusted yourself,” he muttered under his breath.

  Then the unthinkable happen
ed. Cameron slipped under his guard and jabbed Roen in the thigh. It didn’t sink in deep, but a sword was a sword – Tao believed in training with semi-sharpened weapons – and a moment later Roen found himself sitting on the ground, trying to stem the flow of blood trickling down his leg.

  “Sorry, Dad,” Cameron piped, not sounding sorry at all. “Tao says you should pay attention when there are sharp objects about and also that your footwork has gotten sloppy.”

  “Well,” he replied, “you tell Tao that maybe teaching kids to stab their parents is a bad idea.”

  “Tao says you shouldn’t be such a sore loser and a big baby.”

  “Big baby?”

  “And sore loser,” said Jill, joining in on the conversation. Roen and Cameron turned to see Rin and her standing at the doorway, wine glasses in hand. “And bleeding all over the floor.”

  “Tao wants to know if you feel old now,” said Cameron. Then he added, “Because he says you should.”

  Rin walked up to his son and stuck out her hand. “Hello, Cameron.”

  Cameron took her hand. “Hi, Chisq. Tao and you crossed paths shortly before the original Inquisition. He was surprised when you took the side of the Genjix.”

  Rin smiled. “It was a difficult time for us all. I didn’t realize the Prophus had an Adonis program.”

  Roen scowled. “Yeah, the entire program is standing right in front of you.” He stood up and tussled Cameron’s hair. “All right, Lizzie Borden, time for bed. Fall asleep fast; I need to talk to Tao.”

  Cameron sheathed his sword. “Sure thing, Roen. Just give me five minutes and I’ll be out.”

  “Stop calling me by my name!” He watched as Cameron put the sword away and exited the garage. He turned to Jill. “I swear that damn Quasing has too much control over him.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Really? Sounds familiar.”

  Roen’s face turned a shade of red. “That was different.”

  “Yes, the fifteen year-old seems more mature.”

  Jill had long ago forgiven him for the years in which he had abandoned her and newborn Cameron to go chasing Genjix rumors. In the end, even though he was credited with blowing the lid off Quasiform, he realized the price his family had paid for his absence was still too high. She took satisfaction in watching him squirm every time she brought it up, more so for his own guilt than anything else.

  Rin’s eyes trailed after Cameron until he was out of the room. “He has the presence and the demeanor, though I don’t think he would have made it into the Hatchery.”

  “Why not?” asked Roen

  “To be honest, he’s not beautiful enough. The Adonises at the Hatchery are physically exceptional.” Rin blushed. “Sorry, no offense intended.”

  “You just called my son ugly. How do I not take offense to that?”

  Jill pointed at Roen. “Well, look at what genes Cam had to work with.”

  “That is true,” Roen acknowledged with a shrug. They both chuckled. He pursed his lips at Jill and she patted his butt. Rin rolled her eyes.

  A little while later, Roen went upstairs into Cameron’s room. The lights were on and his son was reading The Phenomenology of the Spirit.

  “That’s some dry bedtime reading,” he said.

  Cameron put the book aside. “Just passing the time until you get here.” He lay down on the bed. “Okay, I’m going to sleep now.”

  “I’ll come back in a few,” Roen said.

  “No need. Like you and Tao always say, a good agent knows when to sleep.” And just like that, he closed his eyes and was out.

  Roen waited for about a minute until he was sure Cameron was deep asleep. His son had learned from an early age to fall asleep right away. “Tao?”

  Cameron sat up and blinked. Right away, Roen could tell by his son’s face that he was no longer in control. Roen knew both his son and his best friend well enough to tell which was which. It was the many small things that changed. There was stiffness to his movements, and his face became more solemn. When he looked at Roen, his eyes lingered as if he was staring at something far away.

  Tao threw the blanket off him and stood up. “I know what you’re going to say. I had nothing to do with the selection.”

  “Really? He decided he was going to read Hegel for the hell of it?”

  “Ask Faust. Hegel was Galen’s host after all.”

  “Go figure. A stuffy Quasing was in a stuffy German philosopher.”

  Together they walked out of the bedroom and headed down the hall toward the second-floor balcony. Roen stopped by the mini wet bar just inside the door and pulled out a bottle of scotch and an empty glass. Together, they went to the deck. It was a daily ritual between them, one they had seldom broken over the last decade. Roen poured himself a half glass of the peaty scotch and inhaled the scent of smoke and wood. He held it out for Tao to smell and then took a sip.

  “You should just let me drink it,” said Tao. “I miss the complexity of a good scotch.”

  “Sorry, Tao. Cam isn’t allowed to drink until he’s thirty. Maybe forty.”

  “You know, many of my hosts drank young, even as children.”

  Roen took another sip. “And look how they turned out.”

  “Do you want to compare?”

  “Not really.” Roen changed gears. “How’s his training coming along?”

  “Exponential as always. He stabbed you in the leg today, did he not?”

  Roen lifted his glass up toward the sky as a toast. “I knew my son would one day surpass me. I just didn’t realize he’d do it before he could drive.”

  “What can I say? I am good at what I do. He is ready to join the network as an operative. He has been for a while. You know that, right?”

  “Over my dead body, Tao. I mean that, like, literally – my dead body.”

  “You can only hold him back for so long. Remember, he is a host and technically outranks you.”

  “And I can ground him until he turns thirty, so I guess we’re at an impasse.”

  “We shall see. Do you have Sachin’s intelligence report?”

  Roen pulled out his tablet and handed it to him. “The good professor gave the data fob to Rin the day he died. I filtered out the info on Quasiform and the Council Power Struggle before sending the rest off to the Keeper.”

  Tao read through the reports, graphs, and summaries in only a few minutes, faster than Roen could ever go through them any more. When he finished, he flipped through a few more screens, then looked up. “What about Vinnick’s faction? How bad a shape is it in?”

  “Vladimir says he doesn’t think they can last the year. The old man’s just old. Last he heard, Enzo was taking a contingent up to Moscow. He thinks Vinnick might be throwing in the towel. That or laying a trap for Enzo.”

  “Shit,” Tao muttered as he finished reading the data. He put the tablet on the small table between their chairs.

  Roen nudged Tao on the side of the head. “Hey, watch your language. Don’t forget whose body you inhabit.”

  “I am the one saying it. Do not take it out on him.”

  “Well, I’d appreciate a clean mouth from my son. What’s the shit about anyway?”

  “According to this report, the power struggle has just about run its course.”

  “So what? Vinnick was almost as big a threat as Devin during his prime. Good riddance.”

  “Good riddance, yes,” Tao said, “but he has distracted Enzo for the past decade. With Vinnick out of the way, Enzo can refocus on completing Quasiform and destroying the world. Their little civil war bought this planet a few years. Now, you know that psycho is going to try to sprint to the finish.”

  The two of them went over the rest of the daily reports on Jill’s operations. By the time they were through, it was way past midnight.

  “We’d better wrap it up,” Tao said. “Cameron is going to be exhausted in the morning. I promised to take him to the forest to teach him tracking before he free-runs with Jill. He wants to be able to sneak up on de
er.”

  “It’s your fault for keeping him up way past his bedtime.”

  “Roen, fifteen year-old teenagers should not have bedtimes.”

  Roen, who was putting the stacks of documents away, made a face. “Yeah, about that. I think that’s something we should probably pow-wow about. His mother and I think you’re pushing him a little too hard.”

  “Funny. I thought I was going a little easy on him.”

  Roen got serious. “Tao, you’re pushing him harder than you ever pushed me, and he’s just a kid.”

  Cameron’s face looked equally serious as he stood up and towered over the sitting Roen. “That is because he has more potential than you will ever have. Do not take that the wrong way.”

  “My teenager has already outstripped my abilities. How should I take it?”

  “He is from your loins. Must be getting that potential from his mother’s side.”

  Roen held back the urge to shake Tao. “I mean it. Let him have a childhood.”

  “No, you listen, Roen,” Tao said, hands on Cameron’s hips. “You of all people should understand. If the Genjix win and succeed in Quasiform, humanity dies this generation. Cameron will be lucky to live to forty. If the human governments succeed, he’ll be hunted for the rest of his life. Either case spells certain death for your son. Your family has been amazingly fortunate the past few years in lying low while all our friends and comrades have fallen. These few precious years are the only ones where we can train him in peace, because otherwise he will train by fire.” Tao reached out, grabbed a fistful of Roen’s shirt and tugged. Jill was right; his son was getting strong. “I almost lost you because you were not good enough. I will not lose Cameron.”

  Roen scowled. The encounter with Jacob was a sore point for him. It had taken him years for the nightmares of that night to end. Now, he was conflicted between revenge on that psychopath and fear of crossing his path again. “Just… try,” he said finally. He headed back into the house, but paused to look back at Tao. “By the way, I wasn’t not good enough. I had already gone through a lot and wasn’t one hundred percent.”