by LK Walker
I wrap my arm around Zander and give him a squeeze. He relaxes a little. I feel safe with Zander and his computer next to me. He leads me into a bar and we sit at a high table far away from anyone else. A projection comes up from the table, as it had at the compound cafeteria. How many weeks ago was that? Zander’s hand moves through the projection, ordering us drinks.
“You were right, the people out there with an eye covered, they were talking on phones.”
Even though it sounds fantastical to me, I immediately know what I’ve seen. “Eli’s project—it took off?”
“That’s a bit of an understatement.” There is a hint of humor in his eyes.
“People didn’t mind plugging metal into their heads then?”
“There was a bit of resistance at first. Once the tech was upgraded to be comprised of mostly organic components, that’s when most people got on board. The implications in the health sector were the biggest motivator. The Si chips are life savers.” Zander pronounces it ‘psy’ as in psychology, rather than using initials like Eli had. “The chips constantly monitor the body for signs of infection, or ill health and then send an alarm to the owner letting them know if there is anything untoward. Early detection has been critical to saving millions of lives. The manufacturers also use the chips to provide researchers with the data they need to identify and define diseases and that’s led to the discovery of a vast number of cures. You’re still living in the stone age when it comes to medicine. You may as well have had witch doctors treating you, the way doctors pushed pills down everyone’s throats.”
“That sounds incredible.” And the advancements do sound amazing. That much real time data must have made huge inroads into modern medicine. “So, why is it I still hate the thought of brain tech?”
It’s embarrassing to admit it, I don’t like my own brother’s invention, even though I’ve been proven wrong by the masses. It still seems like a bad idea, putting technology like that into people’s heads. I prefer it where I can see it. I should admit I’m wrong since its doing so much good.
Zander looks like he’s having an internal argument. His face is screwed up and he’s baring his teeth. “In case you do remember any of this when you wake up, you never get one. Don’t change that. Trust your instincts, Cara.” He is looking me straight in the eye. His gaze is unwavering.
“Can I assume you’re not going to elaborate any further.”
Zander gives me an apologetic smile before a young man places a drink in front of each of us. I’m still frustrated by the lack of answers, but at least I get to look around, outside of the retirement village. I decide to give him a free pass on this one. He’s told me what I need to know, it’s more than I would have expected.
“Beer. At least some things don’t change, aye?” There are a plethora of bubbles sparkling up through the amber liquid. I pick up my glass and salute Zander with it before taking a swig. Zander is watching me with an expression I don’t fathom.
The taste registers. It’s not real beer. It’s somehow sweet and bland.
“I take that back. You’ve screwed up beer.” I rub my tongue along the top of my mouth, trying to chase the taste away. If spitting was polite in public, I’d be doing that too. Zander has a wide grin on his face, amused by my reaction.
“They changed the recipe.”
“I noticed. Why did they change it?” I bang my glass down and a small wave of the brew splashes over the side and onto the table.
For a moment, I think it’s going to be another question he won’t answer. Instead, he shrugs. “They created a means of ridding the body of the after effects of alcohol.”
“They made a hangover cure?” That’s got me oddly excited.
“There’s a special ingredient in the beer which binds with the alcohol and while you’re drinking only the beer, it does nothing. At the end of a big night you consume another drink. Everyone calls it the chaser. It binds to the ingredients in the beer and makes the alcohol in your system inert. You sober up in minutes.”
“They didn’t need to make the chaser. The taste alone is sobering.”
That makes him chuckle. “They couldn’t get around the new ingredient’s effect on the flavor. Although I’ve tried your beer and I’m going to have to disagree that yours was better.”
I study him for a while. “Thank you for answering a question, even if the answer was suitably vague.”
“So, what do you think of it all?” He deflects any further discussion on restricted topics, evidently opting for a more generalized conversation.
“The future’s not too different. But enough to make me uncomfortable.” I try to ask a few more questions about Eli and Jack, but they are quickly dismissed. Mostly, I sit and watch people through the bar window, walking down the street, in their own lives. Fashion has changed, clothes are oddly muted in color. They make way for elaborate hairstyles and body art. Zander offers up a few words in explanation of the skin designs. I don’t understand much of what he says, but the gist of it is that the body art is a manipulation of the skin pigments. It doesn’t last long, only a few months max before it disappears. He points out a booth over the road where it’s done, it looks much like a hair salon.
Some of the vehicles have their windows set to transparent, I can now see the people in those cars as the glide past. No one uses a steering wheel, other than the one man employing it as a stand for the electronic device he is reading on.
“Excuse me,” Zander says before blackness slides across his left eye. He has a short conversation with whoever is on the other end before his eye clears again.
“It’s time we got you back.” Zander empties the rest of his glass and stands up, heading towards the door. I follow him without another word.
Chapter 23
Zander takes me back to the retirement village. No one is worried by our presence. They must think we’re visitors.
Back in the apartment, the table is covered in a scattering of cables.
“I was in a hurry when I left.” Zander adds the laptop he’s been grasping tightly all this time to the chaos. He then begins to gather up the cables, systematically reattaching the equipment. “I couldn’t let anyone find this place intact. I had to dismantle a few things before I came looking for you.”
“I did wonder what took you so long.”
I wander into the kitchen and look around. Unlike the world outside this room, I could be in my own time.
“Is this place retro?”
“Yeah, you could call it that. The last tenant can’t have been into anything modern.”
I open the fridge, there are a few bottles of beer in the door along with a few of water. The shelves are dotted with products too. I pick up a bag on the top shelf and it appears to be a type of oat biscuit.
“Help yourself to whatever,” Zander calls over his shoulder. “It’s all our stuff. Have another beer, since you liked the first one so much.”
“I’ll pass.” I poke out my tongue at the memory. “It tasted disgusting and I didn’t even get a little beer buzz.”
There is a brief silence before Zander turns to look at me. “Of course. Your brain is not fully linked to this body. It only gives you sensory feedback. Your organs back home aren’t being flooded with alcohol, so the alcohol has no effect on your brain. Hang on, I’m getting a call.” Zander presses his thumb and little finger together right before his eye darkens. For some reason, I hadn’t considered that the phone would need to be answered, but that movement appears to trigger the slide to come over. My curiosity gets the better of me and I sit on the table next to Zander and take the hand he used to answer the call and rest it in my lap. There’s nothing distinctive about either finger that would suggest it would have any ability, outside what a normal finger can do. They are all flesh and fingerprints. Zander taps them back together but leaves his hand where it is, allowing my continued inspection. I run my nail over the skin but can’t feel anything out of the ordinary.
“The techies’ll be h
ere soon to re-calibrate the computer so everything will sync without a hitch.” His voice is low and his breathing is heavy. I’m late to realize how intimate my touch is. “Do you want to know anything else, while we wait for them to arrive?”
Perhaps I can use this to my advantage. “Tell me about Eli.” I run a finger over the end of his thumb, tracing from his pad down to his palm as if I’m still searching for whatever made his comms unit work. I add a little sexual intent to it, leaning in closer. I feel bad manipulating him like this, using his feelings against him, but I now know that this world is real. And if that’s real, then I have to believe Eli is in trouble. My fear for him is growing.
“I can’t tell you any more about him.” Zander’s voice is weak.
“You don’t have to tell me it all, only enough so that I can make an informed decision.” I play with his fingers as I talk, unable to meet his eyes. Flirting was never a skill of mine and I know I won’t be able to carry on if he can see my, already blushing, face. His hand closes around mine and squeezes before he takes it away.
“Don’t do that,” he says.
I’m worse at flirting than I’d suspected. Subtlety has never been my finest attribute. I look up and his brow is furrowed. “If we’re going to be friends, you can’t manipulate my feelings.” There is a touch of anger in his eyes.
“Sorry.” And I really am. The look he’s giving me makes me feel dirty. “I need to know what’s going on with Eli. I promise I won’t spill a word of it when I get back.”
“That’s not the problem. Whatever we tell you could affect your behavior. We can’t screw with time, otherwise, you might not get to us in one piece,” Zander says.
“Tell me something. Anything. If you really do need me to become a permanent fixture here, you need to give me some incentive. Right now, all I’m seeing is a few new toys I can play with. It’s not enough.”
Zander starts to blink more frequently as his eyes shuffle gently, left and right and his brow crinkles. Finally, his forehead relaxes. “I have an idea.” His eyes become focused again. “There might be a way of telling you more.”
“Then do it.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. It might not work. We’ll need to wait until the others get here. They can’t be too far off.”
Zander keeps working on the wires, so I leave him in the lounge by himself and head to the bathroom. I can’t stop looking at Vera, her pale blue eyes looking back at me, unflinching. Could they soon be my pale eyes?
My face feels greasy, in need of a wash. There’s no facial cleanser in the cupboard or under the sink but there are towels. I grab one out and hang it over the corner of the vanity. I use the hand soap to get a little lather on my face, give it a rinse and pat it dry. Tugging at the hair tie on my head, I yank it out and let the hair fall around my shoulders, combing knots out with my fingers. She is beautiful. I recall the perfect skin under my shirt and the tattoo that peeked out at me last time I looked. There’s no panic this time and I take my shirt off, so I’m standing in front of the mirror in a bra. Funny that it doesn’t feel naked when it’s not your body. There’s no real attachment to it at all. I take a few steps back. It doesn’t help, I can’t see the whole tattoo in the small mirror. The bedroom might have something bigger.
As I walk into the bedroom, I hear the front door open. Zander’s friends have returned. They welcome each other warmly and chatter amongst themselves, although I can’t quite make out what they’re saying. There was little talk when I was in the room with them and I assume if I walked in now they’d go quiet again. I can’t decide—if I choose to make this body my permanent home, would I always be an outsider or are they simply scared of letting some future secret slip? Either way, I don’t feel like being engulfed in uncomfortable silence right now.
The inside door of the bedroom cupboard is completely mirrored and for the first time, I can see all of me. I had noticed the ground was a little further away than what I’m used to, a bit like wearing high heels. Now I see why. I grab a handful of track pant material at the back of the thigh and pull it taut, so the charcoal pants are tight against skin. They are long legs, skinnier than mine and not enough muscle for my liking.
The tattoo peaks out from behind my elbow. Twisting my arm out of the way, I can see a long thin sword. The blade shimmers under the skin as I move around, almost glittering. I whirl around so my back is to the mirror, pulling my pants down so they sit below my hips. The tattoo is completely visible when I look back over my shoulder. It’s hard to get a good focus, twisting like this. I can see stylized feathers on a woman’s figure and she’s bathed in flames. The whole tattoo gleams as I move and I stand there, rocking my hips side to side, watching her dance.
“Cara, you good?”
“What is it?” I ask Zander as he strolls into the room. Stopping in his tracks when he sees my state of undress. “It looks like a burning woman.”
“It’s a Valkyrie,” he says.
I stare at it again and now that I know what it is, I can see it clearly. The colors are intense. The Valkyrie wings are a dark teal with a lace pattern filling each feather. There are another half a dozen whip-like feathers that spray out from her back, a blue fire surrounding it all.
“She’s Norse, right? She chooses who dies on the battlefield and takes them to Valhalla.” I make the comment, so he knows I understand what a Valkyrie is.
“They tell me that’s how you got your call sign.”
I can vaguely recall hearing that name each time I woke, never realizing it was meant for me.
“Vera had good taste,” I say.
Zander screws his face up a little. He still doesn’t like me mentioning whose body it truly is. Knowing that he had to call her parents, I guess he’s trying to disassociate me from her. It’s understandable.
“I’ve had a chat to the others. We’ve found a way to give you a minute of free time to ask questions.”
This sounds promising. I might finally get some answers. I’m nearly to the bedroom door when Zander puts his arm out to stop me. “Maybe put a shirt on?”
“You’re so fussy.” I give him a big grin before picking my shirt up and sliding it back over my head, letting it fall down, covering the tattoo. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” Zander drops his arm. We head back to the dining table where the two people from earlier are both intently looking at a projection near the computer. Zander had been re-installing it when I left the room and all the loose cables are now attached to something.
The two techies look up at me and smile but don’t say a word. Other than the few passing comments we have shared, I haven’t properly conversed with either the quiet man or the woman with the tie-dyed hair. It’s uncomfortable.
“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. My name is Cara,” I say, hoping they will return the greeting. I offer my hand for shaking and in return, I get a couple of strange looks. Zander pushes my arm down.
“Handshaking is archaic. Unhealthy practice. This is…” Zander pauses as if he’s forgotten their names. “Peche and Coby.” The two shake their heads. From where I’m standing, I can see the logo for a small black box next to the computer. The manufacturer’s name is Peche and Coby.
“Imagination isn’t a strong suit, huh?” I point to the box.
“Not really,” he replies.
“I take it, knowing their names could have serious consequences, blah blah blah.”
Zander’s nostrils flare at my insolence. “Their names aren’t important. Peche and Coby are able to secure the memories you have processed while you’ve been here. We can then go dark for a short span of time, and I mean short. You can ask a couple of questions and then we can wipe the conversation.”
“Why does it have to be short?”
“A small window is all we have to work with and we’re lucky to get that.” Zander’s body language suggests I should be impressed. “We need to pull it off between the wireless communications.”
“A little basic,
” the man dubbed Coby says. “You must understand Cara, a continual updating stream would be too laborious on the limited processor units we have. The mimic pins are not powerful enough on their own and don’t get me started on the power requirements for the main computer. We’re running on the dregs compared to what we used to have back at home base. Apparently though, our lack of hardware will finally provide a benefit.”
“Get over it,” Peche ruffles Coby’s hair. When she moves her hand his hair pings back and not a hair is out of place.
Coby runs his hand over the immaculate sheen. “Without the constant feed, we get a minute of “free time”, so to speak. We can override the system safety protocols allowing us limited access to the mimic pins. Before our precious minute is up, Peche here, will disrupt the data held in the mimic pins effectively deleting your short-term memory, before any upload sequencing occurs. We can then reinitiate the usual safety protocols.”
I ignore the talk on doing away with safety measures. “How is that going to help?” I’ll forget anything I learn?”
“You can record a short message. It can’t give away details about what we talk about, but it might give you enough assurance to make a decision, one way or another,” Zander replies.
“And this is the best offer I am going to receive?”
“None of us can think of another way around it.” Zander says.
“Better than nothing, I guess.” I know what questions I’ll ask. “You’ll need to do some fast talking to answer my questions.”
Chapter 24
“You promised to help Eli if he ever needed it and he does—he really does. You can’t let him down. You need to say yes. You need to come and save him.” The words come from Vera’s lips. A projection of her head hovers above the table. Both her speech and her face are agitated. She rubs at her eye sockets dislodging a tear or two.
Coby is not visible on the recording, but his quiet voice on the recording, “say something only you would know, to prove it's you.”