Remember (29 page)

Someone comes down the hall, wearing formal clothes for
Zensation
. She chose a simple black dress with a long, black jacket, which flies back showing a dark blue lining, matching the neat micro-bows on her flats. The Agent approaches me (it must be her).

“Hi, I’m Jenna.” She extends her arm in a handshake.

“I’m Conor Abby. You’re from the GGC, right?” I just confirm the appearances.

“Yes, I have a table reserved for us. Ready to go, Abby?”

Her choice of Abby must mean something.
“Yes.”

We go to the entrance of
Zensation
. A screen situated in the entrance arch covered with a thin layer of dust says
Welcome to Zensation, a Japanese themed restaurant with sim bar.
She puts her hand on the screen, so it says
Verified as Jenna Montclair. Thank you for your reservation.
We go into
Zensation
and find our table. She slides off her coat revealing the wide open oval back of her dress and no sleeves. Her hair circles the back of her head and juts out at twelve points. I take the other seat of the small candle lit table.

“You might as well order something. The company is picking up.” Jenna takes a sip of water.

“Water is enough for me.”
I look around the empty table, except for the water glasses, one candle stick, two menus, and two cloth napkins.

She starts entering something into her tech. Actually I just see her moving her finger across her forearm. This must be the location of her tech screen. She doesn’t pick up the menu.

“Abby tell me about yourself.”

Good, direct questions.
“I work at the Stephens Institute. It is up and to the right.”
While I talk, my mind busies itself with observations.
My eyes flit over her deep red hair.
“Before that, I was a lab scientist.”
One lock of her hair falls next to her almost transparent forehead, spiraling into a spring.
“That was during my doctorate years. They try to pack 12 years of learning into 6. Never any time to waste.”
The lights glint off her mahogany glasses.
“I do have the education to be a physician. That would just be too much. It wasn’t possible to be a physician while completing my education.”
Her full rounded lips contrast sharp features everywhere else. The confidence of wearing almost no makeup reminds me of every woman here, but still surprises me at times.
“That is everything.”

A plate descends down in front of her from a ceiling plate transport lift. “Good. Do have anything to ask me? I’ll go ahead and start eating now.” She drapes the napkin across her lap.

I take a sip, thinking of a question.
“How did you start working at the GGC?”

Jenna grasps the lacquered chopsticks and selects a place to start eating the dark-brown noodles. “I was given a job after graduating, making calls to potential employees and trying to set up recruitment meetings. I want to work my way up to interviews.” She dips the noodles into a warm broth then into her mouth, catching any drips with the same broth cup.

“That sounds like a big change.” I watch another customer receive their meal.

“When did you start working for the Stephens Institute?”

“About 3 months ago.” I move my glass where my plate would be.

“When did we approach you? It is just for verification purposes.” She takes another mouthful.

That must be a coded question. When did the Agent recruit me?
“It was 2 months ago.”

A glass of clear liquid with a coin node drops down. “Why are you interested in joining the GGC?” She sticks the node on the inside of the edge of her wrist.

“The Stephens Institute is just a little slow. At the GGC, I have access to people who can make a real difference. Anything at the Institute, takes years to make any change.” I swallow a sip of water.

She drinks a little from the sim liquid. “Are you continuing your education?”

This must be about my training.
“I just finished a 5-week course on kinesiology. It gave me so much information. I look forward to using what I learned.”

She almost finishes the drink, in a few gulps. “Everything sounds good. If you’re a good fit, I’ll call you before Wednesday. How does that sound?”

“Good.”

Jenna finishes up her food, dragging the last few noodles into the broth. “I just have some paperwork for you to fill out. We can go to my office and get it out of the way.” She drinks the remaining broth.

“Sure, we can go do that now.” I return my half empty water glass to its place.

Jenna scoops out the last few noodle strands and eats them. Then, puts her chopsticks on the plate, takes the napkin from her lap to dab at her lips, and puts it on the table. She adorns the jacket. We leave
Zensation
, walk away from the Institute, and continue along the hallway. A hallway intersects this one, but we keep going straight.

“Sorry about this. I miss counted this morning. It has been an exhausting day to say the least. Luckily, my office is next door.” She tucks that loose strand of hair into place.

“That’s fine. The exercise is good.”
I check if my pad is still there inside my jacket.

“It's just a little crowded this time of night.”

I don't know what to say with just a few people in the halls, so I ask for directions.
“How do we get there?”

“Have some patience, Mr. Abby.” She walks faster.

I keep up. “It’s doctor.”

We reach a stairway leading to a large depressed square. At the bottom, a mass of people form a line around the place. In the middle, frosted cubes each hold a table and chairs (a guess from the clear empty ones). At the top of the stairs, a sign says
Experimental: find your choice of food, drink, and location,
probably a sim restaurant with real food.

We head down the stairs into the congested throng, losing any pursuit. We try staying together, but I almost lose sight of her. I search for a sense of where we’re going. I lose her altogether. Someone grabs my hand, and then deftly switches to wrist. It's Jenna.

We move through the crowd, climb the next set of stairs, leave the crowd behind, and enter another hallway. The diagonal hallway from earlier joins up. We keep going straight as the closed businesses become offices. Only restaurants stay open past 8:30. We turn right and go halfway down the hallway. All the lights turn off. Just a faint light from the beginning of the corridor remains.

“Do you trust me?” Jenna's voice comes from the darkness, a distance away.

For some reason I can’t think of, I say,
“Yes.”

Her voice comes closer. “Just keep doing that.”

I feel a pressure on my collar and the front of my knee, slight and fleeting. I’m turned and pushed against the wall. Jenna moves uncomfortably close to me, evident by warm exhalations mixing with my breaths. She starts kissing me. I trust what she is doing. I want to for some reason, so I kiss back. Why? Her lips feel like silk pillows creasing mine. An overwhelming feeling of warmth overtakes everything else. The feelings of confusion and betrayal just below the surface come through, and I grab her shoulders, pushing her away. I see the reflection of the only light on her now dark glasses. Jenna positions her arms between mine and throws my arms off. The similarity to a choking counter makes me put my arms up, surrender, which means nothing in near darkness.

Jenna grabs my arm, pulling me forward into her knee at my gut.
Shit.
I collapse. And keep coughing. I hear her retreating footsteps on the tiled floor. I’m alone in the dark, on my hands and knees. Leaning back on my haunches leaves me kneeling. I wipe my tearing eyes from the intensity of that coughing fit. Wipe mouth. No need for anyone to see me like
this
(with her lip wax, smeared).

I stumble on the uneven surface near the wall. With just the corridor as my guide, it takes a while. I get closer and closer to the light, until I finally reach it, in what seems like forever. A look back shows the darkened hallway. The lights start turning back on. First the lights along the wall, then the rest. What was that about? She took me into a dark hallway and started kissing me. I shake off a fleeting sick feeling. Why didn't I stop her knee to the gut? The darkness and her night vision? Can't think about that now. I have to get back to cover.

I go the same way we came, messaging my gut, sure to be a bruise. The crowd adds security, a definite help. Anyone would lose track of me in here. Someone joined the throng. A few secs later, another person leaves the line, if no one looks too close. Stop holding the gut, tousle my hair, slip off my jacket, and limp. The stairs breaks any safety from a few secs ago, easy target. I leave the court and walk right past
Zensation
. The elevator affords some protection. A valid Stephens Institute id screens access. My apartment only allows me in. That’s the best.

Mon 8/14/17 1:48 p.m.

I
walk alongside the porch situated on a vertiginous, windswept tower. Marshaled on the left by the rippling, slightly reflective surface of pool water covering the iridescent electric blue bottom, some 6 feet below. On the right, a glassy railing wreathes the entire elevated platform that constitutes this porch. The rough, hewn sandstone under foot retains purity except for liquid infringement. The corner holds a dominating pot, harboring a mass of vines. Said vines jog and tumble down the jet black enameled urn onto stone walk and over railing. I gingerly prance around the excesses of vine, taking exception to plunging in water.

Upon reaching the outermost edge of this balcony, the subject of my wandering looms. Two people of exceptional quality tend to the urns, radiating such calm and contentment, contagious even to everyone around. Their presence fills me with a joy more than describable. Everything within my sensory envelope sharpens, coming into focus. Just aware of so much without looking at anything in particular, knowing the vines exude fuzzy sensory hairs from every inch. The water of the pool musical, an exquisite sloshing sound from the light breeze, unnoticed till now. The light and dark shades of sandstone climb through eyes into the most wonderful perception engine anywhere found. The gentle water trickling from watering cans held by faithful tenders chimes melodious. The watering ceases without warning, as my bliss tears away.

The two figures dressed in white, weightless garb reluctantly place their silver watering cans, perfectly balanced on the narrows of railing. They come around to me. Impossible to tell anything about them from this, their garb renders them to simple placeholders. The delicate features of one engage venturing a guess of female, apart from that, nothing.

“I’m Leon and this is Leanne. Welcome to sanctuary.”

Caressing my back and hands, these two guides of the light take me away to a future, my destiny. We embark on just the fulfillment of a long, labored journey, the last few steps, the culmination of my quest, the summit of my mountain, and my final test nears. Into the harsh reality of a wooden chair, enthralled by nature for how so many years, I enter. Reality means nothing but an illusion to those in the know. The strength of this moment sustains me through anything life has yet to dole out.

Leon in all his strength secures my arm on and against the chair to fight off my human tendencies in this time of peril. Full knowledge and dread of what’s to come lays buried somewhere in my skull just from reach. Leanne in her grace of motion and light of foot retrieves the water vesicle at this precise moment. The water dumping into the pool shatters my wonder, fear, and everything else save for this. A baton of silver being the goal, Leanne extends her arm deep within the recesses of the can probing for metal. It comes fished out with ease once in her grasp and the watering vessel returns to its tenuous perch upon the rail.

Leanne, at my side, snakes her arm between the two of us to land the spike tipped baton on my arm. The spike runs, pushed into my flesh with no utterance of pain. The once tepid force of Leanne grows to force grand enough to melt flesh into metal as my skin stretches to abide by this insinuation of silver. The, until now absent burning plows through me. My entire arm immersed in the lick of flame from within. The burning asks for my unwilling scream and I refuse. The pleading turns to begging as my resistance wanes. Through sweat and tearing eye I see my test at hand, the spike blackening flesh, testing my strength in the belief of illusion. The cool touch of Leanne saps away my pain in exchange for something sweeter. The burning resolves into the luxurious petting by velvet, satin, and silk in some combination, the delicately close touch of silver. The spike slowly withdrawn to the closing and healing of my skin all shows that Leon and Leanne are no longer with us.

I rise up from this throne of immeasurable pain to greet the oncoming test in the journey. Toppling spurned by the smallest of stones terminates in a watery sentence. The forthcoming deluge thwarted by some method, some mode, some force un-experienced still, transforming the very water underfoot. The expectation of landing in the coolly liquid aqueous solution ahead in exchange for the warmth, comfort of a mattress far removed from standard models resounds as the savior I’m looking for. Rolling to one distant edge delivers the just rewards for my misstep, the entanglement in the voluptuous vines. The indiscernible origin of my thoughts leads my polite request for freedom. The vines return my asking with a suitable reply of just a moment and my release. In a snake-like mannerism the vines unknot my trapped appendage. I get to my feet this time.

The wretched chair meets my need for fiery revenge. My thoughts bring just a hint of life lending the chair to prance across the mattress as a horse of wood. The wood creature hovers above my finger struggling for freedom. I force it around and around at a thoughtless speed. To my astonishment, a part breaks as the caricature returns limping to its place.

A cacophony of voices infringe on me, tuning out every instance near me. One individual utterance comes in focus sending the remainder to a sound vacuum within thought. The challenging echo requests acceptance of a formidable thrown gauntlet. Is my prowess sufficient to conquer even mastery over the very air? I take on this query with confirmation free from reservation, regret, and resistance. The rope descending form high above to this grounded location awaits my invitation. I take a hold of this flexible, slender rope by the loop that entwines my hand completely and inseparably.