KINRU

by Stuart J. Whitmore

  "I suppose not," he finally said awkwardly. He took a quick sip. "After all, the government probably doesn't have much to work with."

  The old man nodded, his smile fading. "True. It makes one wonder what they really know, what they think they know, and what they were really hoping to accomplish with that rendering. Still, I think this is all relevant to you and your situation."

  "Right," Anhukarr said. His stomach felt like a giant knot. His hunger was gone, and he wished he'd skipped having anything to eat or drink. Once again, he was forced to acknowledge that his control over things was not only gone now, but probably had been only illusory for an undetermined amount of time. "I cannot know what all you know," he finally said, forcing himself to move forward, "but I am curious if, based on your unique knowledge and perspective, you might have some advice for me. I admit I am floundering, where recently I thought I stood on solid ground."

  The old man took another piece of their shared snack and chewed thoughtfully. "What do you know about Rann Deryala?" he finally asked.

  Anhukarr scowled. "Enough to dislike him, but not a lot of detail."

  "You do know that he is friends with Rann Pillane, yes?"

  Anhukarr found it difficult to keep his voice down. "Yes, that much I did know."

  The other man took a slow drink. As he moved his glass away from his mouth, he met Anhukarr's gaze over the top of his glass. "What do you think about the way he looks?"

  "The way he looks?" Anhukarr echoed, feeling confused. "I... I can't even picture him at the moment, so apparently his looks never really caught my attention."

  "That is interesting," the old man said again. "Perhaps something about his appearance bothers you, so you put it out of your mind?"

  Anhukarr shrugged. "I can't imagine what that would be. It's not like it would be traumatic, just because I dislike him and his politics."

  "Politics are one thing," the old man said after a moment, "but sometimes other things come up. Personal things. Not necessarily trauma, but things we find troubling. Come, there is something I would like to show you, but not here in the taplounge."

  Anhukarr looked surprised as the old man stood up. He hesitated, feeling wary and uneasy, but then he stood and followed the old man toward the exit. As they walked, he used his peripheral vision to watch the other patrons to see if any were paying extra attention to them. He was relieved to see that they all seemed busy with their own lives.

  When they were outside of the taplounge and on the elevated walkway outside, the other man gave a nod toward a nearby lift. He then moved toward it without a word. Anhukarr followed, partly out of curiosity but mostly because he didn’t know what else he could do.

  "This is relevant, trust me," the old man said once they were inside the lift and descending.

  "I have trusted you," Anhukarr replied, "but I will admit that this is pushing the limits of it."

  The old man nodded. "I understand."

  The lift stopped when it reached the street level. The doors slid open, and the old man promptly stepped out with Anhukarr following close behind. Nearby, Anhukarr saw a short stairwell descending against the wall of a building, leading to a simple metal door. The old man descended the steps, and after another hesitation Anhukarr followed him.

  "Now, before we go inside," the old man said, "I want you to look at two images and tell me what you think." He retrieved the small tablet again. "One is a photo of Rann Deryala. One is a photo of you." He held the tablet up for Anhukarr to see. "What do you think?"

  "That... That cannot be!" Anhukarr said in surprise. Apart from slight differences in hair and clothing, the two people looked the same. "I... is he my twin? What is going on here?"

  The old man shook his head slowly. "I think it's time we went inside," he said.

  As the man spoke, he put his hand on Anhukarr's shoulder in what appeared to be a comforting gesture. Anhukarr suddenly felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. A brief moment of dizziness later and everything went black.

  Chapter Eleven

  The urge to scream upon awakening went unmet as Birkran realized his mouth was filled with a gag. He inhaled sharply through his nose. His ankles and wrists were bound tightly enough to cause constant pain. He sat on a chair that offered no padding and was hard enough to be metal. The room was dark save for a small spotlight that shone directly in his face. He could hear movement but could not tell who or what was present with him. In the background he heard the rushing of air through ducts and some metallic thunks that he couldn't readily identify but sounded industrial.

  "It's about time you joined us," an unfamiliar male voice said. "We will make you more comfortable in a moment. Before we do, we want to make a few things clear. You will confirm you understand by nodding your head. Do you understand so far?"

  Birkran nodded his head. There wasn't much else he could do.

  "Good. Do you understand that we have complete control over you?" Birkran nodded. "Do you understand that if you resist us or try to escape, we will make things very uncomfortable for you?" Birkran nodded. "Do you understand that we are the ones to ask questions and we do not wish to waste our time telling you, repeatedly, that we are not here to answer yours?" Birkran nodded. "Will you remain silent unless spoken to, and keep your voice at a normal level at all times?" Birkran nodded again.

  Birkran felt movement against the back of his head, and suddenly the gag was removed from his mouth. It took all his willpower to not scream, but whoever was there with him had given him enough mental preparation time that he was able to remain silent. Panic still coursed through him, as did countless questions that he expected would go unanswered, but his thoughts were clear enough to keep himself under control.

  "How much of your childhood do you remember, Birkran?" the man asked.

  "A lot," he answered simply.

  "Do you remember your parents?" Birkran nodded. "Do you remember your siblings?"

  Birkran shook his head. "I didn't have any siblings."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes," Birkran said. "I remember being an only child."

  "Do you remember your teachers?"

  Birkran paused. He wasn't sure how much detail they expected from him. "I remember some," he answered. "The few who mattered, the few who took the time to pay attention to my... special needs."

  "And you had all human teachers?"

  Birkran shook his head. "Not all, just most. My family could not afford much, but we also didn't qualify for assistance."

  "Too much debt?"

  Birkran nodded. He heard more movement but he still couldn't tell how many people were with him or where they were.

  "Do you remember the toys you played with as a child?"

  "Yes, some," he said, feeling increasingly confused by the line of questioning. Why would someone abduct him and restrain him only to ask about trivia from his youth? But he could not ask, he could only answer what was asked. That restriction increased his sense of panic, of being trapped, even though there was no physical component.

  "Are there parts of your childhood that you don't remember? Not in a trivial sense, nobody remembers everything, but are there parts where you feel there are major gaps, things you feel you should be able to remember but can't?"

  "No?"

  "Are you asking or answering?"

  "Answering. No, there are no times like that."

  "I see," said the man. "And how about your adult life? How much of it do you remember?"

  Birkran paused again. An honest answer was less comfortable to share. "It's much more recent," he finally said, "so of course I remember it."

  "I didn't ask you a binary question, Birkran, and you know it," the man said with a hint of a mocking tone. "How much do you remember about your adult life? Or, shall I say, how much do you fail to remember? How big are the gaps where you think you should be able to remember something but you can't?"

  "Big," Birkran said quietly.

  "Louder, Birkran."

  "Big. Very big."<
br />
  "Would you like to be set free now, to get off that chair and be unbound?"

  "Of course!"

  "Well, that's too bad," the man said, following his words with a coarse laugh. "We're not done with you yet, but we're done with you for now. We're going to put you to sleep for a short while, but we may have more questions for you soon, Birkran."

  The bright light from the spotlight faded shortly after Birkran felt something sharp jab into his arm.

  * * *

  "Rann Deryala!"

  The man's voice slowly worked its way through Corlane's foggy mind. He became aware of a bright light. When his eyelids flickered open he realized that there was one painfully bright light shining in his face amid a sea of darkness. As his mind processed what he saw, he also became aware of a gag in his mouth, and the fact that he was bound at his wrists and ankles on an unforgivingly hard chair.

  "Wakey, wakey, Rann Deryala," the man's voice came from his left. "We have some questions for you, but before we remove the gag to allow you to speak, we want to make sure you understand a few things. Simply nod your head to indicate you are following along."

  Corlane nodded slowly, still feeling groggy.

  "We have complete control over you. If you resist us or attempt to escape, we will make things very uncomfortable for you. You are here to answer our questions, and we will not be answering yours and you will not waste our time in attempt to change that. You will remain silent unless spoken to, and you will keep your voice at a normal level at all times. Do you understand?"

  Corlane nodded again, this time more abruptly. His thoughts were clearing, and although he was alarmed at being held prisoner he was also increasingly angry. When the gag was unceremoniously removed from his mouth, he was tempted to start talking immediately, but he held his tongue. Considering that this person or group had abducted a Rann, there was no telling what else they might do.

  "How much of your childhood do you remember, Rann Deryala?"

  "My childhood?" he said, feeling confused. "Well, not very much, I suppose. That feels like a long time ago, and I have a lot of important things to think about now rather than reminiscing about days long past."

  "Important, yes," the man said mockingly. "A junior Rann always has many important things to think about. Do you remember your parents?"

  Corlane gave a little. "Sure, I suppose I remember them, but we aren't close now."

  "Were you ever?"

  "No," he answered with a little shake of his head, "not really. Some children are close to their parents, but I wasn't."

  "And your siblings?"

  "Siblings?" Corlane echoed. "I didn't have any."

  "Are you sure? No brothers to fight with? No sisters to pick on?"

  Corlane shook his head. "No siblings. I may not have a crystal clear memory of my childhood, but I am positive I had no brothers or sisters."

  "And your teachers?" the man asked. "What about them?"

  "I have no specific memory of them," Corlane said. "Machine learning does not offer much personality to remember."

  "So you had no human teachers?"

  "No. Well, I guess there were a couple who filled in, but most of the time it was machine learning."

  "I see," the man said. "But you don't really remember the experience."

  "I have documentation, if you're trying to build a case that somehow I was not eligible to be elected," Corlane said.

  "Our motives are our business," the man said flatly. "What about your adult life? How much of it do you remember?"

  "What kind of... I mean, that's an odd question," Corlane said, feeling confused again. "It's current, not something I 'remember' per se."

  "Granted," the man said, "but are there gaps in your daily life, where you feel you should be able to remember something but you can't?"

  "Right, right, I see what you're getting at," Corlane answered irritably. "Yes, I have had some well-publicized absences from my work for my constituents, and I have tried to answer their queries fully and promptly."

  The man made a snorting sound. "Ever the politician. You didn't answer the question. You're not on a stage nor being watched via wavecast, so just keep it simple. Are there gaps in your memory... no, let me rephrase that. How big are the gaps in your memory of your daily life?"

  "Big enough to be troubling," Corlane said, anger clear in his voice, "and big enough that I have been seeking medical help to discover and resolve the root cause."

  "And you're sure you have no siblings?"

  "Of course! Must we go back to what we've already covered?"

  There was a pause and Corlane thought he heard the man quietly sniggering. "We will let you get away with that question, although we won't be offering any answers. We choose the line of questioning, Rann Deryala. What do you know of Birkran Kinru?"

  "Nothing," Corlane said honestly after a moment of trying to make any kind of connection to the name.

  "Nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Very well. Have you had concerns about any specific individual interfering with your life?"

  Corlane snorted. "Other than at this moment, no."

  There was another pause. "Are you satisfied?"

  "With what?" Corlane asked.

  "Oh, sorry," the man said. "I wasn't talking to you. You will remain silent for now. So, are you satisfied?"

  "Mostly," a new, vaguely-familiar male voice answered.

  "Should we proceed with Anhukarr?"

  After a moment, the second voice answered, "I believe that would be wise. The partitions appear to be solid, but we must examine each angle to ensure there are no cracks. We have too much at risk to take unnecessary chances."

  "Very well," the first man said. "Rann Deryala, we are done with you now, although we may meet again and have further questions for you."

  "So I may leave now?"

  "So you may not ask us questions," the man answered, his voice a mix of mocking and venom.

  Corlane felt something sharp jab into his arm. Before he could look to see what was happening, the bright light in his face faded to match the blackness surrounding it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Birkran slowly awoke. When he realized he was alive and awake, the panic that coursed through him was stronger than any that he had ever felt before. He sat upright on the soft bed and looked around. He recognized his surroundings; he was in the nice man's resunit. The familiarity of it and the fact that he was alone did nothing to ease his panic this time. He remembered all too clearly the strange interrogation in the dark.

  He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood slowly. Nausea swept through him, but he forced himself to not vomit and to stay on his feet. He needed to move. He wasn't sure where, but he had to get moving.

  Birkran realized that soft music was playing. For some reason it annoyed him, so the control panel was his first destination. After silencing the music, he moved as quickly as his dizziness allowed throughout the suite to ensure that he was absolutely alone. Satisfied that nobody else was present, yet anxious about the prospect that he was being watched and listened to, Birkran answered the call of his stomach. Food, he reasoned, would help him settle down and think better.

  "I thought things were crazy before. I thought I was crazy before. Now, things make even less sense than before," he mused as he ate. The taste of the sweet breakfast food barely registered in his mind. "I can trust no one. Absolutely no one. I thought... I... This..." He stopped eating and stared down at his food. "What am I doing?" he asked himself, panic rising in his voice again.

  Leaving the rest of his food untouched, Birkran moved to one of the windows that offered a broad vista over the city. He knew that anyone on the other side of the window pane should not be able to see him, as long as the pane was doing its job correctly. It wasn't a matter of trust for him, though, but a sense of futility. What if everyone in the city could see him? Would it matter anymore?

  He stood at the window for a long time, watching the
movement of city life that seemed to proceed as normal, quite unaware that anyone in particular was watching it. As his food digested, his thoughts began to settle to a minor degree, and he realized that his sudden anxiety about eating was misplaced. He left the window and returned to his food, eating the rest of it as quickly as he could.

  "I need a plan," he told himself and then laughed hollowly. "A plan based on misinformation and ignorance, yes, that will serve me so well."

  Birkran sat down in a chair near the window where he had stood before. He gazed out over the city again, willing his stomach and his thoughts to stop spinning. What had been the purpose of the interrogation? Who had held him? Where had he been? How did he get from there to here? He was accustomed to not being able to piece together everything that happened to him, but being bound in the dark and asked strange questions about his past pushed it to a vastly more troubling level.

  As he sat staring out at the city, mulling over the questions they asked him and the overall experience, he started having visions, or fantasies, that it had been the nice man in the chair instead of him. At first he chided himself for the very thought, but that didn't make them go away. In fact, they grew stronger, almost as if they were memories rather than strange fantasies.

  "I will not go deeper into this hole!" Birkran snapped, anger at himself replacing some part of his panic and confusion. "I cannot remember another man's experiences, and it was me, not him, being questioned in the dark. Me! Not him! It was me!"

  He closed his eyes as panic started pushing the anger aside. Now, mixed in with fantasies about the nice man being asked the strange questions, he started envisioning himself as the scary man being interrogated. A moan escaped his lips as he felt his last grasp on sanity slipping away. More fantasy memories began to intrude, about things Birkran himself could not know about. Hacking through systems. Voting as a Rann. More visions, more notions that he was actually someone else. Two someone elses.

  "No, no," he moaned, slumping against the back of his chair. "No, I am Birkran. Birkran Kinru. I am Birkran! Kinru!"