The Valkyrie_Genesis

by LK Walker

  I slide the play bar along a little further and the thirty-something-year old is telling the doctor how the game is progressing. Doctor Abrams has shuffled down in his seat, his notebook sits next to him. He hasn’t bothered to pick it up. I don’t bother checking the last of the videos. It’s unlikely I’ll learn anything new, other than maybe what Kaleb is suffering from. I already know it’s some sort of anxiety disorder. I think of his pale, worried face and imagine him trying to deal with the aftermath of the quakes.

  I still have no idea what’s provoked JT’s and my dreams and now we will be over eight hundred miles apart. That’s not going to make it any easier to figure it out. The worst part of this trip is, I want to have a nap, but there’s no way I’m doing that without a sleeping pill and they don’t mix well with driving. When we pull into our next rest stop, I buy a strong coffee and take my turn back behind the wheel.

  Chapter 17

  “Eli.” I scuttle after him. My high heels are twittering on the concrete floor, my legs restricted in their stride by a slim-line pencil skirt. Somehow, I manage to run him down.

  “It’s arrived.” A few army personnel are standing nearby. I add a “sir” to keep it formal, but there’s no keeping the excitement out of my voice. Normally Eli would frown at me for talking to him so casually in front of his people. Right now, he doesn’t care. He gets the look on his face, the one he had when he was a kid opening a big present at Christmas. His eyes are as big as pancakes and are perfectly in keeping with his enormous grin.

  “Take it to your office. I will be there in a minute,” he says to me before turning his back and hurriedly talking to one of his officers.

  I’ve only been working at my new government job for a week. Mostly, it involves organizing and filing. The place was practically empty when I arrived and supplies have been dribbling in steadily since then. The building looks new. It has the typical concrete slab and mirrored glass office block look, but on a large area of land and I can’t help wondering how they found such a private site at short notice.

  The non-disclosure I had to sign with my employment agreement seriously piqued my interest and, even with so little going on, I haven’t been disappointed.

  Eli’s under pressure to get his S.I. chip working. I know it will replace the mobile phone but it does more than that. It will have GPS and calling ability along with a whole heap of other functions running on what he says is a pretty grunty processing unit, for the size of the chip. Eli doesn’t elaborate much more than that, maybe so it doesn’t freak me out too much. The thought of an implanted chip horrifies me and excites me in equal measure. I hide the horror. This is my brother’s project and he is infatuated with it.

  Eli is part of a small team that designed and produced the chip for implantation into live subjects, although they are yet to acquire the equipment to complete the final touches that make human trials possible. There is no doubt they will succeed and the candidates for the chip implants are already being vetted.

  In my hand, I hold the next step towards the project’s fruition. The courier has dropped off a small parcel with ‘Elijah Sullivan’ emblazoned on the front. The package is light, like there’s nothing inside. This is what Eli’s been waiting for. He’d said it would be coming today and had provided strict instructions to find him immediately when it arrived. It’s the first batch of the S.I. chip hardware.

  I’ve beaten Eli back to my office and I’m impatiently waiting at my desk, swinging on my swivel chair like a five-year-old, when he appears in the doorway.

  “Open it,” he instructs.

  Without hesitating, I grab the tag on the courier bag and tear it off, freeing the contents, spilling them out on the desk. Each chip comes in its own sealed, antistatic, plastic bag. I lift one up and hold it to the light to get a better view. The chip is tiny, about quarter of an inch in length and thinner than a credit card.

  “And you insert this under their skin?” I ask.

  “Right here.” Eli points to the fleshy part half way between his ear and where the spine meets the skull. “It transmits data to a receiver in the ear and you can use it to talk.”

  “Why there?” The thought of injecting anything into my head is a little repulsive but, going on the success of this project so far, my fears are not shared by the majority.

  “Lots of reasons. The main consideration is temperature. Near the base of the skull, here, is one of the warmer parts of the body and the chip runs on body heat, to hold its charge.”

  “That’s going to be so weird.” I’m proud of him. By the looks of the huge smile on his face, he’s proud of himself too.

  “We’re working on all sorts of accessories to go with it. In the field, this is going to give our guys huge advantages.” Eli has mentioned that he’s designing these primarily for Army personnel, but it’s hard to believe that’s as far as they will get.

  “What about the general public? They’re going to lap this up.” That makes him smile even more.

  “They’ll have to wait.” He scoops up a couple of the chips off my desk. “I need to go show these off. Can you keep a close eye on the rest of them?” he asks.

  “No problem.” I take the remaining S.I. chips, place them back in the courier bag and add them to my top drawer of stationary. While my eyes are averted, I tell Eli what I’ve wanted to say for a while, “I’m not sure I’ve thanked you for getting me this job. So, thanks.”

  “You deserve the job, Cara. Your last boss was too selfish to tell you, but his efficiencies skyrocketed after having you assigned. I doubt they would’ve let me bring you in otherwise. In their view, they were getting the best person for the job, not my sister.”

  He winks at me and hurries out the door. I’m not sure if I do deserve it but I have taken a step up in the world. I now have my own office. Eli explained that, with all the confidential information I’ll handle, I need my privacy. He has to be making it up. Everything going through this building is confidential, not merely what I deal with. No complaints, though. I even have a window. It looks out on the facility’s bare grounds which are yet to be landscaped. There are a few newly planted trees and a whole bunch of concrete buildings in the distance. But who cares, I can see the outside world.

  Gazing out the window, I contemplate the possible uses of the chip technology. Eli hasn’t mentioned what else they’ll be using it for in the armed forces, other than communications. He refuses to say more.

  He’s good at keeping secrets.

  My phone starts blaring in my handbag. My office is too quiet for the intrusion. I fumble through the junk—stray receipts and notebooks crammed in there. My phone’s screen is lit making it easier to find. The caller ID tells me it's JT. We’ve kept in close contact since I left. He’s still in San Francisco assisting with the post-quake recovery. Life is very different there now. The power to his house was only restored yesterday and he’s still using the port-a-loo that the relief workers dumped on the corner of his street. He’s been helping the neighbors during daylight hours, ‘relaxing’ at night. Without power, I’m not sure what that would entail. But tonight—tonight will be different. JT has expended his supply of sleeping pills.

  There is excitement in his voice. “Have you decided yet?”

  He wants me to join him in his nocturnal adventure. We’ll be miles apart, but somehow, he thinks if we both dream, he won’t be alone. I have to keep reminding him that we’ve never seen each other in our dream world. Maybe it’s a construct that we’re both forced into, not an actual place where we might bump into each other. JT suggests that we could have forgotten seeing each other, or perhaps it’s only by chance we’ve never crossed paths.

  Either way, my dreamless, sleeping-pill nights aren’t helping me solve the problem of who is screwing with our heads. I want to know as much as he does. My decision is further convoluted by my embarrassment at the thought of facing Zander, now that I know he’s probably not my brainchild.

  “Yes.” I reluctantly agree to join
him. “I hope it’s a good idea.”

  “Perfect. I’ll call you tonight before bed.” He hangs up without another word. The thought of going back into my dreams twists my stomach in knots. I remind myself it might not happen. It’s not like I dreamed of Zander every time I went to sleep. At least, I don’t think I did. There’s no way to be sure.

  There’s another reason I say yes to JT. The timing seems too good to pass up. Jack returned to San Francisco this morning to sort out what is left of our lives there, maybe find my car, if I’m lucky. The accountancy firm he works for agreed to transfer him to their Seattle office if he deals with all his current clients first. He’s been granted access to the building he worked in pre-quake to retrieve all the paperwork. He’ll be gone a couple of nights and I’ll have the house to myself. If I wake up screaming again, Jack won’t be there to get worried. And I won’t have to explain why I’m calling JT all through the night. I think our relationship already makes Jack uncomfortable. For the few short weeks I’ve known JT, the amount of time we spend on the phone is a little weird, especially since Jack doesn’t know the true reason for our connection. JT suggested I tell Jack about the dreams, but I can’t, I don’t want to. Not until I’m sure about what they are.

  Work keeps my apprehension at bay for the rest of the day. I fumble my way through the documents amassing on my desk, all marked for filing. I catch sight of a letter addressed to Eli with the golden army insignia embossed at the top. The confidential stamp is bright red next to the address line, and that one word has my complete attention. I would have filed it without looking if it didn’t have the big red stamp. I scan the letter’s contents. It discusses the financial backing for the project. From what I can make out, a corporate is interested in funding the human trials of the chip and whoever wrote the letter is inviting Eli’s opinion. I can recall him ranting a few days ago about companies manipulating research projects. This must have been the antagonist for that rant. With certainty, I can say Eli will have turned them down. The fact that they know about his work seems odd and the amount of money they are willing to invest is huge. Perhaps it won’t be all that long before the public gets the technology, whether Eli likes it or not.

  Chapter 18

  I’ve only been renting my new house for a week. The noises it makes at night are not the ones I’m used to. Without Jack here, I hear every one of them. I try to rationalize them, but my brain and my adrenal glands appear not to be communicating.

  To make matters worse, I’m even more nervous about ditching the sleeping pills than I thought I would be. Falling off to sleep is going to be quite a challenge. Dragging this night out is not what I had in mind. I’d prefer to nod off to sleep and wake up refreshed and ready for work, with nothing in between. JT is having problems sleeping too, but for different reasons. The aftershocks are still rattling San Francisco. The quake which struck an hour ago, would be classed as a major earthquake all by itself. I’m happy I don’t have to deal with those too.

  I do my best to relax, as much as I can, but it still takes a few hours before I can settle enough. Sleep is coming.

  When I wake, it’s with a gasp. Sweat leaches from my forehead. I move my legs. They’re covered in sweat too. The extra blanket I put on the bed to make up for Jack’s lost warmth is too much. I’ve overheated and had a nightmare. A real one. Nothing of the military camp. No Zander. The dreams were all my own, the images were distortions of my reality and completely illogical. I didn’t realize how disappointed I would be if I didn’t make it back to Zander.

  The sun is streaming in through the curtains. I don’t need to look at the time to know I’m running late for work. A quick clock-check tells me I have ten minutes before I need to be out the door.

  Yesterday, after JT had called me at work, I turned the volume right down on my phone. This morning, the alarm went off at the right time, but because it was muted I slept straight through the unobtrusive vibration. I curse myself all the way to the bathroom. I wonder if Eli’s chip will work as an alarm clock too, one that’s not so easy to ignore.

  My phone’s call log tells me I’ve two missed calls, both from JT, no messages left. There’s no time to call him now. I text him saying I’m running late and I’ll call him tonight.

  I’m not sure how many times during the day I pick up my phone and flick through to find JT’s number in my contacts list. Did he make it to our dream place? The wait is killing me. A couple of times I type out a text asking him whether he made it there, before deleting it and putting my phone away again. Deep down I don’t think I want to know the answer. If he made it, I’ll be jealous. But, worse, if he didn’t, I’m scared that we might not get back there.

  I spend the day working on budgets. Keeping a reign on project spending is difficult but today I don’t care. It is of little consequence by comparison. It has dawned on me that all I want to do is go home, I want to go to sleep, I want to go back to Zander. After all that time fighting sleep—what if this revelation has come too late? What if I can’t go back?

  *****

  “Did you get there?” JT doesn’t bother saying ‘hello’. His voice is stuttering as if he’s running. I hear keys rattling and a door slamming. He must just be arriving home. I’ve pulled over on my way home from work to make the call.

  “No,” I reply. I’m still disappointed and I manage to portray it in my tone.

  “Oh. Sorry.” That’s it. That’s all JT says.

  “You did. Didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. But it wasn’t like usual. I woke in a different room to normal and I had to stay in the room the whole time. I wasn’t allowed to leave. They wouldn’t say why. And Kane wasn’t there either. That was the only upside.”

  I waited for him to elaborate but he wasn’t forthcoming. “And.” It was like pulling teeth.

  “I remember less than usual. I had hoped you’d been. That you could recall more of what was going on.” He blows out a big breath, the sound makes the small speaker in my phone crackle. “Cara?”

  “Yeah, JT?”

  “I woke up worried. Not terrified or anything, just a bit scared. But I can’t remember why. I wish I could tell you more.” He sounds apologetic.

  “Were they under attack again?”

  “It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t thrust out of sleep or anything—not like last time. When that happens, I can remember every friggin detail of that place. No, this time I woke normally as if it were simply a dream. Most of the details disappeared as soon as my eyes opened. I felt safe—but with a whole lot of anxious dumped on top.”

  “I’ll try again tonight. I gotta go.” I hang up and stare at my phone for a while. The screen times out, reverting to black, and I see my reflection staring back. Two deep lines are folded between my eyebrows and my mouth is screwed into a tight ball. Why did JT make it back and not me? It takes a minute to get over the ‘poor me’ mentality before the real question buzzes to life. What is there to be afraid of?

  ******

  Tonight, I struggle to slip off to sleep. JT’s words rummage around my head. Why would he wake up worried? How do I relax when my mind is already on guard, fearing the worst? I raid what alcohol we have in the house—Malibu and vodka. I add two shots of each to a glass of pineapple juice and down it in one severe guzzle. It burns all the way until it reaches my stomach. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to invade my blood stream. My cheeks begin to glow and my muscles lose a little of their tension. It’s a start, at least. The rest is up to me. Back in bed, calming myself is easier. Relax, I repeat over and over in my head.,

  “Cara,” I hear Zander’s voice before my eyes open, his touch caresses my arm. It’s gentle, even with the calloused skin of his palms. When I open my eyes, I’m disorientated. JT said he had dreamed of a different place, but before I ended our chat prematurely, I hadn’t thought to ask more. The room is much smaller than the white laboratory-type room I usually wake in. Here the walls are covered in big, strongly colored florals on a white background, dimly
lit by a lamp in the corner. With the right light and a little less wear, it would be bright and homely. Here and now, it looks depressed. I can see the corner of the wallpaper coming away at the top join, flopping lifelessly. The theme is accentuated by the dank smell that dwells here. It’s musty, as if the place has been shut up for some time.

  There’s furniture in the room that suggests I might be in a lounge. A black painted coffee table is off to one side. The table’s surface is chipped and shows the original light brown wood underneath. A couple of pale blue arm chairs, with wear patches on the bottom cushions, are crammed into a space next to the table. Everything’s been pushed up hard against the far wall behind me, no doubt to make way for the bed I’m lying on. There’s an older man, maybe in his forties, with hair slicked over to one side, occupying one of the chairs. He’s tapping furiously on a keyboard that appears to be simply a light projection. A screen is suspended in the air in front of him. I’m guessing its holographic and I have this urge to go over and pass my hand right the way through it to see what it feels like.

  “This isn’t where I usually wake up. What is this place?” I ask.

  “The base was compromised. You were there when they tried to incinerate us. Since then we’ve been on the run.”

  As I sit up and flick my legs over the side of the bed, Zander holds both my hands in his. My hands have a soft thin material covering any sign of flesh. Raised black dots are positioned at regular intervals all over them, back and front.

  “Who found us? Who the hell are ‘they’?”

  “We have a lot to explain.” Zander strokes a thumb tenderly over the back of my gloved hand. The material does little to lessen the sensation. I rip my hands from his grasp.