Merged

by Jim Kroepfl

  “I’ve been told I have less than a month.”

  “I am sorry to hear that, but we need to wait and see if the other Nobels start to exhibit life-threatening symptoms.”

  “What we need is a success story,” Richard says.

  “I assure you, I’ll provide it.” Sarah turns away and coughs into her handkerchief again.

  Orfyn

  “They’re going to unmerge me,” Lake tells me.

  I know it’s the only way to make sure Sophie doesn’t do any more damage. Lake will only get worse, and Sophie might take over her body. I’ve been repeating to myself all the reasons why she needs to go through with it, and now that it’s really going to happen, I want to beg her not to.

  We’re only beginning.

  I pull my eyes away from the rose garden Lake saved and look up. The sky is a dense wall of gray nothingness. “How did you get them to agree to it?”

  “Actually, you gave me the idea. I …” She looks down at her hands. “I threatened to kill Sophie.” Her voice is a whisper. “I didn’t know what else to do.” She starts scratching lines in the wooden bench with her fingernail, and a tear slides down her cheek.

  “You had no choice, Lake.”

  She shrugs. “I’m just relieved I never had to try.”

  I should be proud that I was the one who came up with the solution, but it’s why she’ll be leaving The Flem. “Does Stryker know?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know how to tell him.”

  “He’ll understand.”

  “I hope so.” She doesn’t look convinced.

  I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind Lake’s ear, something I’ve always wanted to do. Her hair feels like silk. “Don’t take this wrong, but you’re acting more like yourself today.”

  “They’re giving me a dream-suppressing drug. I suspect as a period … No, that’s not right. A precaution against my harming Sophie. They told me I could only stay on it for a short period before I start experiencing continuous hallucinations, which is why I need to unmerge as soon as possible.” She looks at me with a burning intensity. “I’m so angry at Sophie. Sometimes I think I could actually do it, which only makes me angrier because she’s turned me into that person.”

  “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”

  Lake wraps her arms around herself. “How did it come to this? I wanted to save people, and I ended up threatening to kill someone.”

  “You did what you had to do to save yourself.”

  She shakes her head as if to push out an unwelcome thought. “Was I that bad?”

  How do you tell the girl you love the truth? “What do you remember?”

  “The last few days were so strange. I’d be doing something like eating breakfast, and the next thing I knew, I’d find myself in the rose garden with no memory of how I got there. But in my mind, it all made perfect sense, and I created these elaborate justifications for why I kept losing time.”

  A part of me has been hoping it really was only exhaustion, but I’m pretty sure Sophie was breaking into her awake-life and trying to take over.

  Lake places her hand on mine. “I promised I’d start coughing … I mean, confiding in you, so I need to tell you what Sophie wants to do.”

  Lake describes Sophie’s plan to sterilize billions of people. In the rare times when Sister Mo watched the news, I’d hear her quoting Philippians: What shall it profit a man, should he gain the whole world, but lose his own soul? What kind of person would Lake turn into if she spent the rest of her life with Sophie in her head?

  “You have to unmerge,” I say, finally accepting the truth.

  Lake leans her head against mine. “I know. But if I do, I’ll never see you again.”

  “When I get out of here, I’ll come find you.”

  “I won’t remember who you are.”

  I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer. “You’ll fall for me all over again.”

  She grins. “You are irresistible.”

  “And persistent.”

  “Some would call it stalkerish.”

  “Hey, whatever works.”

  “It works,” Lake whispers as her lips touch mine.

  As we get lost in each other, I vow to find Lake and remind her about art and clouds and medieval curses all over again.

  Orfyn

  Bat is in a well-lit diner on a dark city street. Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks. He is wearing a hat like the other characters, though they aren’t barefoot. Or wearing stained pink bathrobes.

  “We’re unmerging,” he states.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You need to go through with the procedure.”

  The Darwinians told us Alex got so bad, they had to act quickly and unmerge him. I hope he didn’t think no one cared enough to say goodbye. We didn’t get the chance. And after what Marty’s and Lake’s Mentors pulled, they don’t deserve to keep living in their Nobels’ bodies. But unlike them, Bat is the least controlling guy I ever met. I am not letting this happen.

  “We’re just getting started,” I argue. “We can’t quit now.”

  Bat wiggles his fingers, and the color of the girl’s dress changes from orange-red to periwinkle. He thinks more creatively than anyone I’ve ever met. And because of him, I’m starting to think that way, too. He’s a great Mentor.

  Bat slogs to the front of the painting and puts his hands on his hips. In the greens and oranges of the night scene, he looks like an obscure 1940s superhero: weird, well-meaning, and wired-a-world-away from everybody else on the planet.

  “Your friends are suffering from their Mentors’ diseases,” he says.

  I want to believe the tension in his voice is him playing up the drama of the four diners in the painting. “Not all of them. Stryker and Anna are okay.”

  “You sure?”

  “Bat, I feel great.”

  “Let me see your hands,” he orders.

  I hold them up. “They’re fine.”

  Bat steps closer and spends a long time examining them. “I didn’t plan on telling you this, but I had ALS. It wasn’t supposed to affect us after I separated from my body.” He flutters his fingers. “I couldn’t use the keyboard anymore.”

  To create his video games, he needed to be able to type.

  “I couldn’t control my tongue.”

  Voice recognition software would’ve been useless. His games were the only thing he had in his life. I look down at my own hands. If they give out, I won’t be able to paint anymore. I’d be Kevin, but I’d no longer be Orfyn.

  “We don’t know if it will ever affect me,” I say.

  “I won’t take that risk.”

  Bat waves his hands, and the name on the sign switches from Phillie’s to Bat’s. He nods in satisfaction. I love watching him in the paintings. I don’t want this to end. Bat spent the last eight years alone, and now he has me. We’ve been together every single night for the past month. He can’t let me leave. We’re all the family each other has.

  “To be great, you have to follow your own dreams, not someone else’s,” Bat says. “I created my games because I wanted to see if I could. I would never have tried if someone told me how to do it.”

  “You’re not like that,” I say.

  “You need to be working on your own art, not my latest one.”

  “You have a new game?”

  He spins around. The tie from his bathrobe swirls around him, his grubby toes grab the blue-white city pavement, and his unshaven cheeks tighten in a huge smile. “Crimson Frog.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He grins mischievously. “You’ll find out one day.”

  I look around the Bat Cave, trying to accept that this may no longer be my home. “Can I think about it?”

  “It’s not your decision. It’s mine.”

  I stomp to the screen so we’re nose-to-nose. “It’s my brain. I get a vote, too!”

>   “Don’t fight me on this, Orfyn. I’m doing what’s right for both of us.”

  I cross my arms. “I won’t tell them you want to unmerge.”

  “You don’t think I planned for that? After the file in my health record activates, they’ll unmerge us, believe me.”

  Since Bat’s real house uses my palm print for access, I have to believe him. “Bat, I don’t—”

  “You should get going.”

  “Can we wait a while before doing it?”

  Bat leans his butt against the restaurant’s window, giving the customers a special view. “It’s already in motion.”

  My heart feels like it’s shriveling into a raisin.

  “And don’t worry about Rosa,” Bat says. “I made sure she and her mother have a good life.”

  “Then you were the one who caused them to disappear.”

  “I had the means to help them, and I thought it was about time they caught a break. Meeting you was the best thing that could have happened to her.”

  She’s okay. The worry I’ve been carrying all this time evaporates. “After I unmerge, I won’t remember any of this. Or you.”

  “Don’t you love those times when something happens that jogs a memory you think you’ve forgotten?”

  “Are you saying I’ll remember you?”

  Bat spreads his arms wide, exposing his belly. “I’m pretty unforgettable.”

  I have to smile. “True that.” I take in Bat’s basement—my favorite place in the world. “You’ve taught me so much. Not only about art, but about not being afraid to be who I really am.”

  “Then stop copying other people’s work and start creating your own.”

  “I will. I promise.” My eyes fill with tears, and when I blink them away, Bat is standing next to me with outstretched arms. I fall into them, and we hug for the first and last time.

  “I love you, Bat. Thank you for choosing me.”

  He wipes the sleeve of his bathrobe across his runny nose. “I get to love you forever.”

  Lake

  I stroll down our wing, taking my time to appreciate the painting on each Nobel’s door. There’s now a new one. But instead of Stryker’s hometown, Orfyn painted the seven of us at the Jamaican party. The inaugural class—including Jules. Orfyn still wants to believe Jules thought she was helping. He’s that kind of person. In the painting, everyone is having a wonderful time, even Anna. Orfyn portrayed me painting with my hands, which makes me wonder once again why I allowed my prejudices to override my feelings for him.

  So much lost time.

  He finished my abstract painting, and we hung it on my wall. It stops me in my tracks every time I pass it, but they’re not allowing me to bring it with me. After I’m back home with Grandma Bee, there can’t be any reminders about my being here.

  I touch the figure of Alex. Deborah teared up when informing me that he successfully unmerged a few days ago and is already back home. It’s comforting to know how much she cares about us, that we weren’t merely specimens in an experiment. It gives me confidence that she’ll ensure they go through with it and unmerge me. And knowing Alex survived is making it easier for me to face the risks a second time.

  I hope some part of him remembers how important it was to him to find a renewable energy source. I’m not worried about losing my passion to cure Alzheimer’s; I’ll have Grandma Bee as a constant reminder.

  The dream-suppressing drug is helping, but I’m experiencing thoughts that I know are Sophie’s. Deborah says they won’t continue after I’m unmerged. I still get angry when I think about Sophie’s betrayal, but strangely, I miss her at the same time. There’s a hole in my life that our work used to fill. Alex was right. It’s better to forget about what I’m giving up.

  They’re moving me off the Nobels’ floor tomorrow to begin the Blanking Phase, so I need to say my goodbyes today. A tie hangs from Stryker’s door handle, but that’s not stopping me on my last day as a Nobel. I enter his darkened room and hear rhythmic snores that sound like waves crashing onto a beach. I reach to shake him, then get a better idea. I clamp my hand over his mouth and watch as his eyes fly open in surprise. He grasps my wrist with his long fingers and easily removes my hand.

  “Not funny, Lake.”

  “Fair is fair.”

  He sits up and turns on the light. My eyes travel down his broad, bare chest. My heart doesn’t miss a beat, once again proving that he was never the one for me.

  “I’m starting the unmerging … the unmerging procedure tomorrow,” I say, sitting on the edge of his bed.

  “I know.”

  “Were you going to let me leave without saying goodbye?”

  “I’m not good with goodbyes.”

  “That’s the coward’s way out. And you’re not a coward.”

  He grimaces. “No, I’m a lot worse.”

  “Why would you say something like that? You’re one of the most courageous and caring people I know.”

  He shakes his head. “How can you believe that?” He throws off the covers and gets out of bed. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t remember any of this soon.”

  I march after him to the couch. “Then what does it hurt to tell me?”

  “You don’t want to hear this, Lake.”

  “I do. Please.”

  He stares down at his bare feet. “I was at that flash rally.”

  “The one where those people were shot?”

  “Passionate people who were trying to change the world. And I led three of them to their deaths.” He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “The part I didn’t tell you is, one of them was my girlfriend.”

  It feels like someone punched me in the stomach. Poor Stryker. I can’t imagine what he’s been going through, though I know he’d detest my pity. “She is why you chose to be here, and why you’re working to end gun-related violence.”

  He nods. “Her name was Alicia, and she was the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” Tears stream down his face. “I’ll never forgive myself for putting her in danger.”

  I move closer and tentatively place a hand on his arm. He doesn’t shrug off my touch. “No one could predict that someone would do something terrible like that.”

  His face is filled with anguish. “I was the one who purposely threw gasoline on volatile issues to get people to stand up and challenge the status quo. I loved how important people took me seriously, but I let my ego push things too far. I was naïve to think the protests I coordinated would remain non-violent.”

  I always thought it was an expression, but my heart truly aches. “Stryker, let me ask you this. Why did Alicia go to … that place? The race. No. The rally?”

  “I wanted to show her what I accomplished, and because of that, she got killed.”

  “She was there because she believed in your cause, and she believed in you. If she was as wonderful as you say, she’d want you to forgive yourself.”

  Stryker lets out a breath. “I promised myself I’d never get close to anyone again.”

  “I also think she’d tell you that you can’t keep pushing people away.”

  His near-black eyes meet mine. “I almost broke my promise with you.”

  I recall our one hug and how I felt like something was wrong with me. It was never about me. How many times have I misinterpreted situations because I didn’t have all the facts? I even convinced myself that someone was right for me because he fit the image I had in my head of the perfect boyfriend.

  “We’ve been good friends,” I say. “Other than the fact that you have an annoying habit of telling me what to do.”

  He smirks. “I may have been told that before.”

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” I hold out my hand.

  “That’s not a decent goodbye.” He wraps me in his endless arms. “I could have loved you, Lake. If things were different.”

  “I wanted to love you, too.”

  My tears blur Orfyn’
s face until he resembles a chalk drawing in the rain. “We’re going to forget each other.”

  His light brown hand holds my ivory one—the color of The Flem’s walls before he transformed them into works of art.

  “I’ll make sure we meet again,” he promises.

  It’s a sweet thought, but I can’t conceive how it will ever happen. Not only are we returning to our vastly different lives to do vastly different things, neither of us will have any memory of each other.

  We arrive at the oak tree, and Orfyn climbs to the lowest limb. He reaches out his hand and helps pull me up. We perch shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. I vaguely recall being here with him before, but I’m not sure when. Or why. How many other important things have I forgotten?

  The sky is clear. Thanks to Orfyn, I now prefer days with ever-changing clouds. I watch as a V of honking birds flies overhead. I can’t remember what they’re called.

  After the procedure, will I be able to recall the elements in the Periodic Table? Will I have the intelligence to unlock the secrets of chemistry? Will I look at a painting and remember how I’m no longer afraid to fall in love with an artist? Stop. I have to quit concentrating on the risks, because I can’t keep existing like this. I need Sophie to be gone.

  Think of what I can teach you.

  I’ve learned that sharp pain drives her out of my thoughts. I dig my fingernails into my palm.

  The saddest part is, she could have taught me so much. I’ve loved what I was doing at The Flem. Because of Sophie, I was working on experiments far beyond my age. And her lifetime of knowledge and experience would have continued to propel me so we could have done remarkable things together. I have to hope that once she’s been implanted into Bat’s program, the damage to her neurons is overridden and her brain patterns re-stabilize so she refocuses on her second life’s true purpose. Mankind still needs a cure for Alzheimer’s.

  It’s not easy to hope someone succeeds after they’ve sabotaged your dreams.