Lee separated herself from Xiang, rubbing her eyes. She shook her head as though trying to clear some cobwebs. She felt a wave of warmth roll through her body, and she nearly lost her balance.
“What do you mean?” Xiang asked.
“I’m sorry, Xiang, but something is wrong with me. I need to go sit down.” Lee slid her hand and wrist around Xiang’s neck for support. Xiang helped her back to their table, where she slid heavily into her chair.
“What’s wrong?” Xiang asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t feel right.”
“Here, drink some water. That will help.” Xiang poured some more water into her glass.
As they waited for Susan and Phua to finish dancing, Lee’s condition seemed to deteriorate. The feelings of numbness and of being outside of herself worsened. Her heart rate was elevated, though she wasn’t sure if it was just because of her increasing worry or due to something else entirely. Finally, Susan and Phua returned to their seats.
Lee looked at Susan, who smiled back with a peaceful look on her face. Susan didn’t seem to notice anything wrong with her.
“Xiang, something is wrong with me.”
Xiang’s demeanor seemed to change now. Finally. “How so?” Xiang seemed to say, although she wasn’t hearing him so much as reading his lips.
“I need to get some air.”
“Let’s go find a better place,” Xiang said.
All three of them were looking at her, still relaxed and smiling. Xiang was waving at her with his left hand, exhorting her to follow him. She almost fell when she rose from the booth, but Xiang was there to catch her.
She got her bearings and started to walk weakly alongside Xiang, leaning into him. Susan and Phua were walking ahead of her, looking back at her, still smiling broadly. All smiles for Phua and Susan. Members of the Chinese elite. Living the high life. Not a care in the world.
She followed them through the spacious dining room, fighting to stay alert. They continued into the cavern tunnel, leaving the vocalist and band behind, and followed it for a few moments. Susan was ahead of her, waving urgently back to them and pointing somewhere. She said something and began laughing hysterically.
Xiang and Phua led her a little further into the tunnel before making a quick turn down another, smaller tunnel. Her vision continued to deteriorate and she felt more and more outside of herself. Phua now joined Xiang in supporting her. She was vaguely aware that the two of them were now supporting all of her weight.
“Let’s just stop here,” Susan Meng seemed to say in slow motion. “…won’t make it outside from here.”
They’d entered a small alcove lit by a series of lanterns on the walls. The entire alcove was painted in a mural of a Chinese cityscape. It was mostly black and white with odd patterns of color and Chinese characters in the mix. There was a white sofa with a thin mattress on top. With the exception of the opening for the entryway, the sofa curved around the entire perimeter.
Lee felt overwhelmed by a sense of warmth. Susan and Phua were looking at her attentively, their expressions alternating between that of mild concern and a sort of odd joy. They began peppering her with questions. She felt very calm now and, somehow, obligated to answer the questions.
Do you have a lot of Chinese American friends?
What do you think of China?
Do you like Chinese food?
Would you consider yourself a religious person?
Such strange questions.
Wasn’t that vocalist fantastic? Such presence.
Have you read much about Mao?
Are you a fan of Chen Guongchen?
What do you think about socialism?
The mural spun around her as though she was in a giant washing machine full of multi-colored clothes. The questions in her mind seemed to spin, as well, as the colors of the mural bled together and some of the black contours in the design began to swell. Susan, Phua, and Xiang’s pale faces examined her intently, in an eerily detached way—like little scientists. Their white faces made them seem like porcelain dolls. She felt the weight of their stares and a sudden, intense, and surreal sense of astonishment for a split second. Am I playing them, or are they playing me? Then she blacked out.
Lee woke and found herself lying on her right side. Her vision was still blurry, but she could see the white bench perpendicular to her field of vision. She rolled onto her back. The mural with the splotchy colors was still blurry, though the spinning had ceased. She sat up, blinking her eyes. Her vision cleared after a few seconds. She still felt unbalanced and felt the beginnings of a headache. Oddly, the mural design seemed to relax her. She was alone. The muted sound of music came from the tunnel. Where’s Xiang?
She sat there for a few moments, her head in her hands. Get yourself together, Lyn. She tried to stand, but the mural started spinning again, and she abandoned the attempt.
She called out to Xiang, but there was no response. She sat there for a few moments in silence, trying to make sense of everything. She heard muffled footsteps approaching from the tunnel.
“Lyn, you’re awake!”
Lee rubbed her temple and forehead with her right hand. “How long was I out?” Lee asked as Xiang appeared.
“I dunno.” Xiang checked his watch. “Forty-five minutes or so.”
Forty-five minutes. “Where were you?”
“I’ve been here with you. You started to stir, so I ran to get some water for you.”
“What happed to Phua and Susan?”
“Phua was called to an emergency situation at work. He had to leave. He feels horrible about that.”
Lee felt a sudden burst of anger. “I had my own emergency situation here.”
“I know. I’m sorry. He felt horrible having to leave like that. What exactly happened? Whatever it was, it seemed to happen really fast.”
“I don’t know. I felt…numb. I felt like I’d lost my inhibitions. Like I was intoxicated, except it was more acute than that.”
Xiang frowned. “You’re sure it wasn’t just food poisoning?”
“I don’t think so,” Lee said. “Food poisoning makes you feel nauseous.” Lee’s stomach churned. “Actually, I do feel a bit nauseous.”
Lee attempted to stand again. Xiang stepped quickly forward to help. She was shaky at first, but the cobwebs seemed to clear rather quickly as she stood still for a few seconds. She began to walk slowly around the perimeter of the alcove, taking inventory of her body in order to verify whether or not something more sinister had occurred. Nothing that she could tell. She gripped her head again and rubbed her eyes. Her head felt like a hot iron was being run through it.
“I have a terrible headache.”
Xiang offered to track down some medication for the headache. While Xiang was gone, she speed dialed a taxi from her cell phone and checked the time. 12:18 a.m. Xiang’s forty-five-minute estimate of her period of unconsciousness seemed like a reasonable estimate. She was still confused about everything. Xiang wouldn’t be taking the taxi with her. She needed to go home, reset, and think.
Chapter 20
New York City
Tuesday, February 10, 7:49 a.m. EST
The following Tuesday, Lee cleared security and shuffled through the main lobby in the Brooklyn Ventures building where she worked. She studied the design on one of the Romanesque columns: a Greek god with a lightning bolt in his hand, a cherubic angel, a serpentine sea monster snaking its way upward. Her head grew dizzy as she scaled the column with her eyes, beginning at the base and working her way to the ceiling.
Inevitably her eyes were drawn to the 3D Modern Art sculpture, which was the centerpiece of the room. The design was something different every day, often something colorful in order to liven up the lobby. Today it was two young African women wearing brilliant, multicolored robes with matching headdresses and beaded necklaces, carrying stone jars. They seemed to be staring somewhere off into the distance.
She plodded her way through the lobby where, at the far end, only one of the two
white boards was being used. A man with scruffy white hair and a thin white beard was writing equations out on the board. He’d used multiple colors in order to distinguish some parts of the equations from others. Two men and a woman sat in chairs in a small semi-circle, discussing something with him. Their discussion was earnest, even heated. They’re passionate about their work, Lee thought. It was one thing Lee loved about working there.
She shuffled into the cargo elevator and pushed the button for basement level as she strained under the weight of her laptop and workout bag. She felt it decelerate and come to rest at the bottom, followed by the requisite buzz. The doors slid open and she exited into the hallway briefly and then into the darkened room where her desk was located, making her way along the center aisle. She again pondered whether the company was ever going to finish remodeling it.
“G’morning, Lyn,” said a voice emanating from somewhere behind a dual set of computer screens. Lee saw Tobyn Collier’s head move briefly out from behind the set-up.
“Good morning, Tobyn.” She took a silent but deep breath as she flopped her workout bag and the FBI laptop on the floor and flipped on her computer. She watched the multicolored noise appear on her screen, which coalesced into the familiar image of Galileo Galilei. She sat down at her makeshift desk, staying only long enough to check her email. Leaving her bag behind, Lee grabbed the FBI laptop and made her way out into the hallway running along the perimeter of the basement. She passed the elevator and walked a few more paces before turning left and down another hallway. This segment of the hallway was always blinking in and out of darkness due to the perpetual flickering of one of the overhead lights. She approached and entered the room with the portal set-up.
After placing the laptop on an adjacent desk, she slid on the torso netting and sensors, stepped onto the walking track, and placed the HUD onto her head. She pressed the ON switch and, after a short delay, her view exploded into a three-dimensional panorama of color. She was standing again in the nexus pad within the Grand Cathedral. This was becoming her favorite part of the day.
She made her way past Newton and the apple tree and along the central corridor to the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. As she ascended, she watched the throng of the avatars move within the courtyard below her through the transparent walls. She exited onto the third floor and made her way to the Sponsor kiosk.
One of the other attendants, who went by the name Antoinette, greeted Lee as she entered the kiosk. Antoinette’s avatar was that of a young woman fashioned after Marie Antoinette, the famed French queen who was guillotined in 1793 for treason.
Antoinette, Lee noted, had expressed her pride at her avatar, which she’d designed herself. This was, she’d explained, the hip version of the queen. The young brunette was dressed in black leather pants, a black leather jacket over a teal tank top, and teal-colored high heels. “Modern, but tasteful,” Antoinette had explained. “They didn’t call her the ‘b’ word for nothing,” she’d said, “but I love her anyway.”
Antoinette had asked Lee to stay in the kiosk for a while, as they had a run of customers. Two hours later, she finally broke free of the kiosk and headed back down to the Grand Cathedral.
She’d made it halfway to the central fountain when her earphones pinged and she was prompted by a female avatar. The avatar introduced itself as Professor Saul in Madrid. Dr. Saul reminded Lee of a program she’d submitted to the polymaths to automate a complex spreadsheet. Lee let her know that she was on her way to the polymath kiosk and would follow up with it immediately.
Lee had made it just past the central fountain when another avatar slid out from behind one of the giant columns. The avatar, which was wearing black glasses and a white robe, was that of Indian civil rights leader Mahatma Gandhi.
MahatmaGandhi: HELLO.
Lee: WHO ARE YOU?
MahatmaGandhi: NO ONE OF IMPORTANCE. A FRIEND AS ALWAYS.
Lee: WHAT DO YOU WANT?
MahatmaGandhi: NOTHING. JUST PLEASE BE CAREFUL. WE WOULDN’T WANT TO WORRY ANYONE.
Lee: WHO ARE YOU?
Lee included an angry face emoticon after the question.
MahatmaGandhi: BE CAREFUL.
The avatar had no further response. Gandhi passed her by and continued on back toward the main fountain. Lee kept moving to the far end of the cathedral until she arrived at the polymath kiosk.
Lee: HELLO, SIMON.
Shelby: HELLO, LYN. HOW CAN I HELP YOU?
Lee: HEY, SIMON. I ORDERED AN AUTOMATION PROGRAM FOR DR. SAUL AND AN ANIMATED GIF FOR DR. PATTERSON AT NYU. WAS WONDERING IF EITHER OF THEM IS FINISHED.
Shelby: PATTERSON, YES. SAUL, NO. SHOULD HAVE SAUL DONE BY END OF WEEK.
Lee: OKAY, THANKS SIMON. CAN YOU JUST EMAIL THE GIF TO PATTERSON? SHE NEEDS IT PRONTO.
Shelby: NO PROBLEM.
Lee: THANKS. LATER.
Digital Lyn Lee continued along the perimeter corridor for a while, traveling counter-clockwise until she was next to the main fountain again. Here, she was pinged a second time. Digital Lee rotated around to see Wu Xiang approaching.
Wu: HELLO, LYN.
Lee, still feeling uncertain about the incident at the Four Corners, hadn’t wanted to talk to Xiang just yet, but he’d already spotted her.
Lee: HELLO, XIANG.
Wu: DON’T WANT TO TALK LONG. I’M SORRY ABOUT THE OTHER NIGHT.
Lee: HOW ARE YOU?
Wu: VERY WELL. CAN I CALL YOU TONIGHT?
This was a little out of the ordinary. To this point, Xiang had only called her on a handful of other occasions. The purpose of each of the previous calls was solely to coordinate a date that had already been arranged.
Lee: THAT WOULD BE FINE. EARLIER IS BETTER.
Wu: OF COURSE. TALK TO YOU TONIGHT THEN.
Lee: OKAY.
Short and sweet, Lee thought. Lee continued back up to the Sponsor kiosk. Antoinette was still there and seemed happy to see her as another line had formed for their services. She spent the remainder of the day ruminating on Xiang’s call and her meeting with the FBI on Wednesday.
Chapter 21
New York City
Wednesday, February 11, 7:49 a.m. EST
On Wednesday Lyn Lee pulled open the door to the Brooklyn café, bells jangling as she shut the door behind her quickly in order to keep out the cold air. As usual, she headed to the rear of the dining area, where she found Frank already seated. Frank had her laptop computer placed in front of her, and she was typing away at something. But she ceased when she saw Lee approaching and greeted her with a nod of her head.
Lee slid into one of the purple-colored booths, the same one they’d used on at least two previous occasions.
“I think Agent Reardon’s going to drop by this morning.”
“Agent who?”
“Agent Reardon. He’s the guy who was with me in your initial interview.”
Lee smiled. “I know. I remember. I was wondering if I’d ever see him again.”
“Let’s start by going over the portal activity. Any new developments?”
“Nothing new, really. Same names keep popping up. Drescher. Owusu. Abrami. There were two names that I thought I’d mention that matched the list you gave me.”
“Oh? Which ones?”
Lee pulled a small notepad out of her purse, the same one she’d been writing her environmental observations in.
“The first is Dr. Jie Wang. She’s working on Project Hertz, which isn’t a cloaking project itself, although I’d consider it an ancillary project. She’s based out of the University of Tokyo.”
“Okay. And the second name?”
“The second name is Dr. William Beck. He’s Project Magus and here in New York. He’s been snooping around some of the more sensitive files and inquiring on how to get access to them.”
“When did Beck’s avatar start showing up?”
“Since the beginning of this week. He’s been in and out every day this week.”
“Okay, sounds good. Anyone
else?”
“None.”
“Are thing’s going okay with Xiang?”
Lee felt a gnawing at the pit of her stomach. She’d been fighting with herself all week as to whether it was worth mentioning the incident at the Four Corners. She had a hard time believing Xiang would’ve knowingly done her harm. She wouldn’t be stating the truth by saying that every detail of the three of them—Susan, Phua, and Xiang—hovering over her and asking all of those questions was clear to her. The details weren’t clear because of her state of health at the time. This fact was there, and it wasn’t going away. Even so, it almost didn’t seem real, as though it was just a vivid dream. In fact, she found that she’d literally fought with herself in order to convince herself that it had really happened.
“There was something that happened last Saturday night,” Lee said.
“Go on.”
“Well, Xiang took me to dinner at a restaurant in Manhattan called the Four Corners.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Frank said. “High-end place in Midtown. Underground?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Go on.”
“So Xiang invited a couple of his friends to meet us there—a male and a female. It was just normal conversation most of the night. Xiang invited me to dance. But then I started to feel really strange.”
“How so?”
“I’m not sure I can describe it. It felt like I was intoxicated, but more acute. Like I was outside of myself.”
“Loss of inhibition?”
Lee took a deep breath. “Yes, I guess so.”
“How long did you feel that way?”
“For quite a while longer. Maybe a couple of hours. It started after Xiang’s friends arrived. It got a lot worse during the dance.”
“And what happened then?”
She had Frank’s full attention. “Whatever it was, I had progressed enough that I needed to leave the dining area. When they returned to our table, I told them I felt ill and needed to get to a restroom.”
“And then what?”
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