The Tau Ceti Transmutation (Amazon)

by Alex P. Berg

  “Excuse me?” said Carl.

  “It’s something I hadn’t considered before,” said Gerrold to my pal. “Do androids have a qi? How does it manifest? Given my background, I had to defer to Valerie on her thoughts on the matter. I simply don’t have much experience with your kind.”

  The heat must’ve been getting to me. Gerrold’s idealistic, pseudo-religious arguments almost made sense. Almost. “Taoism, rebirth, qi. Got it. So what drove you and Valerie apart?”

  Gerrold shrugged. “Not sure. Like I said, perhaps she didn’t find the answers she sought in our teachings.”

  “What makes you think that?” asked Carl.

  “She started discussing other philosophies with me before she left,” said Gerrold. “Buddhism, confucianism, candomblé. Plus all kinds of others. Weird ones I’d never heard of.”

  “Weirder than yours?” I snickered uncontrollably at my own humor, even though it didn’t seem particularly funny.

  Gerrold’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

  “Did Valerie mention Veesnu by any chance?” asked Carl.

  “She did,” said Gerrold.

  “Ah. So…” The words sounded loud in my own ears, and they felt momentous. Important. I couldn’t put my finger on why, though. Possibly due to the acoustics of the sweat lodge.

  Carl glanced at me before turning back to Gerrold. “Have you seen Valerie since she left those few months ago?”

  Gerrold shook his head.

  “Any chance you’ve been to the city recently?” asked Carl.

  “Nope. Haven’t left this camp in years. Don’t have any reason or desire to.”

  “And I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of a place called Keelok’s Funporium?”

  Gerrold shook his head again. “Say…Valerie’s ok, isn’t she?”

  “She’s fine,” said Carl. “She had a break-in at her place, that’s all.”

  My tongue moved through molasses as I licked my lips, which felt inordinately dry despite the omnipresent steam. I laughed for some reason. “Hehe. Funporium…”

  Carl turned to me. “Are you doing ok?”

  “Me? I’m fine, dude. But could you tone it down? You’re being extremely loud.”

  “I’m speaking at a normal volume.” Carl glanced at Gerrold. “Do you use wood to heat this rock pit?”

  I chuckled again. “Hehe. Wood.”

  “Yes. A mixture,” said the dreadlock-laden naturalist. “Apple and mango from the orchards. Some mesquite. But we add a dash of something special to make the sweat lodge experience more relaxing. I was sure your friend would enjoy it once I heard about his family pedigree.”

  “You hotboxed the hut?” said Carl.

  My droid pal was on fire. Nothing but zingers. “Hehe. Box.”

  “Wonderful.” Carl shook his head in disbelief. “Can you help me get him dressed?”

  “Sure,” said Gerrold. “I suppose it’s my fault for not warning you.”

  “Guys, I can walk,” I said. “My legs are fine. They’re just HUGE.”

  I looked down. Strangely enough, they were.

  Gerrold and Carl helped me to my feet. We stumbled toward the door, and I wondered where in the world my clothes had gone.

  Gremlins. Must’ve been gremlins, I thought.

  From behind a fluffy cloud, Paige laughed at me. Or with me. I wasn’t sure.

  14

  I popped a couple Buzzkill™ brand sobriety pills into my mouth as I swiped the pack across the pharmacy counter scanner. I followed it across the scanner’s black maw with a tub of extra-strength antihistamine gel.

  The counter squawked at me as I tried to finalize the order. “Would you like to add a tube of Benzitol to your order? Rated number one in customer satisfaction for burns, rashes, and bites. Or perhaps a pack of virility enhancers?”

  I frowned and wondered what exactly the damn counter knew about me. “No. Paige, could you pay this dang thing and make it shut up?”

  My Brain fairy silently obliged. I took my things and left.

  On the sidewalk outside the pharmacy, I cracked open the tub of soothing gel and slathered a layer over my neck and arms. My skin prickled in response, but in a good way—the equivalent of eating ice cream for my sense of touch.

  “Ah…that’s better,” I said.

  Carl stood next to me, grinning. “So apparently copious amounts of sweating, mild smoke inhalation, and a tetrahydrocannabinol high aren’t good remedies for bee stings.”

  I didn’t take the smile as a slight. I knew Carl better than that. He was just glad I’d survived our harrowing trip to the country with nothing more than a few bumps and a headache—one that was rapidly disappearing thanks to the pills.

  “Not so much,” I said. “Although they’re the perfect recipe for a wicked one-two punch of dry mouth and belly riots. I feel like I could eat an entire bison and guzzle roughly its same weight in water. Come on. Let’s get some chow.”

  I prodded Paige for restaurant recommendations, preferably those specializing in juicy, charred meat patties served between buttery, toasted buns. My Brain mate suggested a burger joint a few blocks away called You, Me, and Umami. Feeling the need to stretch my legs after suffering through another pair of lengthy cab and tube rides, I suggested to Carl that we walk.

  Tau Ceti sat low in the sky, probably not more than a sleep cycle and change away from the horizon. For the time being, though, it continued to do a stand-up job of roasting me with its rays.

  “So, uh…did I miss anything back there?” I asked.

  “At Gerrold’s little slice of heaven?” asked Carl.

  I nodded.

  “You never blacked out, if that’s what you mean,” my partner said. “But I can’t vouch for what you might’ve missed as a result of Mr. Stein’s unique choice of incense.”

  “Mind filling me in? Paige’s not much use to me at the moment.”

  I take offense to that, she said.

  “You know what I mean.” As useful as Paige was, she depended upon my body’s sensory inputs for information. When hopped up on psychoactive drugs, the sensory streams in the organic portions of my mind tended to get crossed. For all intents and purposes, Paige had also been as high as a kite for the past couple hours.

  Yes, but unlike you, I have Carl’s feed of the events to go on, said Paige.

  “Why don’t you ask me what you’re curious about,” said Carl. “I don’t know the precise moment you transformed from somewhat goofy Rich to drop your pants and run around screaming Rich.”

  “I did that?”

  Carl shrugged. “To be fair, the pants were still damp. When they touched your skin, you claimed eels were trying to make love to your thighs, though you used a more crude turn of phrase.”

  I ran a hand across my face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Nope. But it’s alright. Several of the female members of the camp made positive remarks about the appearance of your legs. Apparently, you’re very ‘gazelle-like.’”

  “Comes from years of kickboxing. The muscle tone doesn’t go away easily.” I sighed. “Oh, well. Not like I’m ever going back there. At least I put on a show, right?”

  Carl nodded.

  “So, back to Stein,” I said.

  “What about him?”

  “Do you think he’s involved?”

  Carl shook his head. “No. He seemed genuine. Pupil dilation was normal—at least at first, before the effects of the cannabis smoke began to affect him. All signs point to him telling us the truth. The fact that his and Valerie’s relationship ended recently seems to be circumstantial.”

  “And you don’t have any reason to suspect he holds a grudge against Valerie?”

  “To the point where he’d travel to the city, break into her apartment, and rifle through her things?” Carl gave his head another sharp shake. “No. And to what end? To get something back from Miss Meeks? The man has nothing worth taking, unless you’re particularly fond of mangoes, honey, or marijuana.”

/>   “That’s what I thought, but I was hoping you might’ve seen things differently.” I wiped at my neck. The medicine had done its trick, but the hot sun combined with the residual layer of gel was making it sticky. “At least the trip wasn’t a total wash. We learned Valerie’s in the midst of a bicentennial, existential crisis, and she’s trying to fill the void within her with mystical mumbo-jumbo of any flavor. It might explain her odd behavior earlier today. I’ve heard about strange cult practices before. Indoctrination. Some verge on brainwashing. Although, I have to admit—I’ll be disappointed if you’re wrong and Valerie is just a nutbag suffering from religious hallucinations.”

  Carl tilted his head and gave me a look. “Even nutbags, as you call them, tend not to be lucid one moment and confused the next.”

  “I guess. Not without help, in any case.”

  We’d reached the restaurant. I found us an empty table. The menu flashed on the counter—scrolling images of grilled meats crowned with towers of cheese and toppings. Suggested pairings hovered underneath, most of them fried. I had Paige send in an order for the fattest, juiciest burger the joint offered as well as a tall glass of water, a pitcher of beer, and a jug of cola that would surely give me diabetes if I wasn’t so genetically sheltered from the disease.

  Carl seemed up for conversation, but between my lingering headache, the pack of rabid coyotes gnawing at my insides, and the lingering feeling of foolishness I felt over exposing myself to a clan of unBrained free spirits, I wasn’t in the mood for much talking. Besides, I needed time to mull over my thoughts—most of which centered around Valerie and only a few of which involved her bulging chest and curvaceous hips.

  What was her game, anyway? If she’d been lucid, why would she lie and pretend not to know us when we found her at the bakery? What was she covering up? And why would she seek us out in the first place if she didn’t want us digging into her past?

  The burger came and I feasted, filling my belly with savory mouthfuls that validated the place’s namesake and washing it all down with alternating gulps of sweetened and fermented beverages. Once sated, I headed back to my place with Carl for some much needed shuteye, unfinished thoughts still swirling around my melon.

  15

  My head pounded, the melodic rhythm of my mind’s inner drunken blacksmith taking his frustrations out on the beaten steel sides of my skull.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  I stuffed my head further under my pillows and hoped more sleep would solve the effects of my previous day’s beverage choices.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Are you going to get that? said Paige.

  “Get what?” I mumbled.

  The door, she said.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Come to think of it, the thumping wasn’t coming from inside my head. It was a sound—one I could hear with my actual ears and everything.

  “Wait…are you saying someone’s at the door?”

  Ding, ding! said Paige. We have a winner!

  I pulled my head from its synthetic down cocoon and glanced at the windows. Following my gaze, Paige undimmed them, revealing a mellow, natural light. Twilight wasn’t more than a few hours away now.

  “Why is someone here now?” I said.

  Good question, said Paige. You could ask.

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “And why aren’t they using the chime?”

  Paige clicked her tongue at me electronically. Another quality question. One I can’t answer because I don’t read minds. Except yours, of course.

  I pushed my feet off the side of my bed and lifted myself upright, my head swirling in response. Apparently, while the thumping was real, so too was my hangover. I grabbed a few more Buzzkills from the pack I’d laid at my bedside and chased them with a long draught from a glass and pitcher combo I’d left beside them. Then I sat and contemplated my existence while I worked on perfecting my blinking skills.

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Ooh. Five this time, said Paige. Someone’s getting antsy.

  I yawned, stood, and threw on a lamb’s wool robe over my skivvies. “If this is a solicitor, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind. And where the hell is Carl? I got him for purposes such as this.”

  Technically you inherited him, said Paige.

  I waved my hand in the air to dismiss her, despite the fact that she wasn’t actually there in the room with me, and headed out of my bedroom. From there, I hooked a left down the hall onto my wrought iron, spiral staircase—a feature I’d added to give a touch of elegance to my place, since living in a three-story penthouse with an atrium and a sitting room wasn’t ostentatious enough. I clattered down the steps two at a time as the Buzzkills took effect. I reached the front as another round of thumping began.

  In a fit of impulsiveness and annoyance, I instructed Paige to flick the door open.

  She did. It flicked. And I gaped.

  Standing before me in tight paisley leggings and an egg yolk-colored halter top was none other than Valerie Meeks, her knuckles raised in mid-knock.

  “Um…hi,” she said.

  I blinked a few more times, absorbing Valerie’s curves and trying to make sense of the day. Although the Buzzkills had done their trick, they’d done nothing for my grogginess. I should’ve popped some stimulants, too.

  I tried to muster the cream of my wit. I failed. “This is my apartment.”

  “I know,” said Valerie.

  “Why are you at my apartment?”

  “Because you weren’t at your office.”

  Her logic was unassailable. I was not at my office. “Fair enough. What I meant was, why are you here at all? My memory is a bit fuzzy thanks to a couple pitchers of fermented barley and hops and an all-expenses-paid trip to the land of the magic fairies courtesy of your ex-boyfriend, Gerrold, but I seem to remember you telling me to get lost yesterday.”

  Valerie wrung her hands, and her head shrunk back into her neck ever so slightly. I felt a twinge in my heart, despite the fact that I’d been the one on the receiving end of an epic tongue lashing mere hours prior.

  “I know,” said Valerie. “And I’m really sorry. Truly I am. I wish things could’ve gone differently, but the past is the past and what’s done is done. Know that I never meant to hurt you.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it,” I said.

  She shrugged.

  I blinked again. I felt like I was suffering through an epidemic of that particular bodily function. “So I’m guessing since you’re here you remember who I am?”

  Valerie nodded, her strawberry blond curls bouncing like cute little hair springs.

  “You still haven’t told me why you’re here, you know,” I said.

  “I need you back on the case,” she said.

  I stood there, eyebrows furrowed, looking at her and not telling her that I hadn’t actually quit on her case after she’d told me to do so.

  Apparently, she took my silence as confusion. “As I said, I’m incredibly sorry about yesterday. People were watching. There were things that couldn’t be said in public.”

  “Things?” I said. “What things?”

  “Information. About the people involved in this case,” said Valerie as she glanced over her shoulder furtively. “I wish I could say more, but in fairness to the people involved, I can’t.”

  My brain hurt, similar to the way it used to the morning after a kickboxing bout. “Wait. Hold the horses for a second. Yesterday you came to me to get my help in investigating a break-in, something you claimed to have no knowledge about other than the fact that there was no record of anyone trespassing on your property. Then the evidence we found at your place—which was clearly planted by the way—sent me on a crazy trek ultimately leading nowhere, except when I got back your place had been tossed and you claimed not to know me. Now you’re telling me that was an act, and there’s people after you?”

  “Yes, exactly! The Diraxi.” Valerie looked over her shoulder again, as
if she heard noises.

  I leaned my head out the door and looked around. Val and her cute round tushy were the only ones in the hall. One of the benefits of the penthouse suite was not having to share the common areas with nosy neighbors.

  “Are you sure you’re doing ok?” I asked. “Do you want to come in and sit down?”

  The elevator behind Valerie dinged, signaling the lift’s arrival. I looked up in surprise, but Valerie nearly suffered a heart attack from shock. She emitted an unladylike squawk and bolted for the stairs.

  “Hey! Wait!” I called, the folds of my robe flapping open as I took off after her. “Why are you running?”

  She burst through the fire door and raced down the steps—at an alarming speed, I might add—calling to me as she ran. “I can’t say more. Go to the bakery. Pass code twenty-seven, forty-nine. Second drawer, left of the stand mixer. Should explain things. Sorry!”

  I stood at the head of the stairs for a moment, the stairwell breeze tickling my bare legs, before I remembered the elevator. I’m not sure who I expected, but Miss Crabbleman, my surly neighbor from downstairs, surely wasn’t it.

  “Lady problems?” she said.

  “What do you want?” I asked. “This isn’t your floor.”

  “I heard a thumping.”

  “Yes, we all did,” I said. “There was someone at my door. My door. On my floor.”

  “I’m aware of that. But apparently you’re unaware of the noise ordinances. If someone’s causing a disturbance at your door, it’s your responsibility to take care of it. You should be glad I didn’t call the police. I’d be within my rights, you know.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve taken care of the problem, as it may be.” I glanced back down the stairs. Valerie was long gone. I sighed and trudged back to my door.

  Miss Crabbleman stood rooted in place.

  “Well?” I said.

  “Nice calves,” she said, with a single raised eyebrow.

  “Go away.”

  I went inside and closed the door. Carl stood within, apparently manning the gates to my castle.

  “Where have you been?” I asked.