Chapters Thirty-two and Thirty-three

From the Personal Journal of Kai-Lee Fox Delta

There’s a lot to be said for a welcome distraction.

Not that Eran and I joined our lives simply to take our friends’ minds off our troubles, but everyone wholeheartedly embraced the chance to focus on something wonderful for a change.

Lu pulled the arrangements together in record time.  It was an impressive feat, considering the fact that twenty-four hours earlier she had been standing in Eran’s galley wearing purple leggings, a man-sized black tunic, chunky purple jewelry, and a stupefied expression.

“Are you serious?  You’re not.”  She eyed me doubtfully. “ Are you?”

I rescued the crystal cruet sliding from her slackened grip and set it on the counter next to the salad bowl.  “I’m very serious.  We’re going to do it tomorrow evening, and we want all our friends to be there.”

“Well, I never!”  She shook her head, obviously mystified.  “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?  Because we want you to share the moment with us.”

She dismissed my reply with a wave of her hand.  “Not that.  Why do it in the first place?  Wherever did you come up with such a tomfool idea?”

“It’s not a tomfool idea.  We’re in love.”  I was tempted to bolster my case by using Jordi and Lexi as examples—“Hey, we’re not the only ones!”—but announcing their relationship wasn’t my place.  Lexi had said they wanted to tell everyone, but with everything that had happened, they hadn’t announced it yet, and I wasn’t about to play the spoiler.

“You and Eran have always been fond of one another,” Lu reminded me.  “That’s no reason to go off the deep end, Kai-Lee.”

“We’re way past fond of each other, Lu.”  I sighed.    “Look, I know monogamy may seem kind of radical—”

“Kind of?”

“I thought so, too, at first, but the idea has definitely grown on me … us.  We both want this.”

“You can’t just up and ….  Tell me you’re joking.”

“Afraid not.”

“But our lives are so unsettled right now!  This is no time for rash decisions.  Ask Rune,” she added with a boy-will-he-give-you-an-earful nod, pointing her finger at me.

“Rune already knows and what’s more, he approves.  Besides, it’s hardly a rash decision.  Eran and I have been discussing this for more than a month.  We’ve thought it through, we know the chance we’re taking, and we’re sure.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “Rune approves?”  I nodded.  “Rune Gaspar?”

“Mister Security himself,” I assured her smugly.  “As a matter of fact, he was the one who suggested we do it sooner rather than later.”

That seemed to pretty much take the wind out of her sails.  She shook her head.  “Well, I never.”

“We’re not going to change our minds” I warned her. “ So, will you come?”

The thing about Luana is, she rebounds well.  Maybe too well.  She stared at me in silence for a couple minutes then announced abruptly, “We’ll have it at my place.”

I had obviously given her too much time to process.

“Wait a minute.  I only want you to be there.  I didn’t say anything about—”

“Don’t argue with me, Kai-Lee.  If y’all are bound and determined to go through with this crazy ceremony, I’m going to make things look nice.  And that’s that.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I protested, but she had already shifted into hostess gear and was no longer paying attention.

“I’ll have to clear off those four work tables,” she mused, hands on her hips and a far-off gleam in her eye.  “Zivon can help me put them against the bulkheads.”  She snapped her fingers.  “Burgundy tablecloths!  They’ll look positively elegant draped in burgundy tablecloths.  I can see it now ….”  She swept her right hand in front of her face, palm out.  “The tables aglow with candles, sparkling with Rune’s crystal and my white China.  Absolutely groaning with food—strawberries, grapes, some of that lovely Gouda, fresh-baked bread, grilled vegetables ….  I wish I could cook ….   Do you think Rune and Isidor are handy in the galley?  I’ll have to ask them.  A cake!” she exclaimed.  “We’ll need a cake of some kind.”

“Please don’t go to all that—”

“I’ll even polish the wood floors.”

“The floors?  Come on, Lu, there’s no need—”

“Well, of course there is.  How else am I going to get them to reflect the candle light?”

I had no idea.

As it turned out, the ambience was perfect.  And I have to admit, Lu’s thoughtfulness meant a lot to all of us.  When all was said and done, she created a warm, peaceful, loving oasis—a temporary retreat from the unstable, unfriendly world beyond her portal.

She finished decorating a few hours before the ceremony, then hustled over to my quarters to help me get dressed.  I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t actually need help getting into my new sapphire-blue tunic and slacks—probably because my conscience was pinching me.  I could have confided in Lu sooner … about Eran and me, I mean.  If I had, she would have had more time to plan and wouldn’t be running herself ragged now.  Don’t ask me how I arrived at the brilliant conclusion that letting her to do more would make up for it; I obviously wasn’t thinking straight.  If I had been, I wouldn’t have over-compensated by letting her buff my nails and apply my makeup.  I did draw the line at bright blue eye shadow and red lipstick, though.  I wasn’t feeling that guilty.

“This lipstick makes me look like a clown.”

“Hmm.  It is a bit much on you.  All right, we’ll go with the clear gloss.”

“The eye shadow is a bit much, too.”

“But it matches your new tunic.”

“I’m telling you, Lu, blue eyelids just aren’t natural.”

“I wear this eye shadow, Kai-Lee Fox.  Do you mean to sit there and tell me—”

“Not natural for me,” I hastily amended.

“Oh.”

Fortunately, time ran out before we got to hair.  Oblivious to my relief, Lu apologetically explained she needed to “put a wiggle in it,” if she was going to get herself dressed in time to greet her guests.

Eran picked me up about an hour after she left.  I’ll never forget how handsome he looked in his celery-colored tunic and black slacks or the way his eyes lit up when he saw me.

“You look amazing,” he murmured, cradling my face between his palms.  He kissed me softly.  “Exquisite.”  Kissed me again.  “And I love you very, very much.”

“I was about to say the same to you,” I smiled.

His hands brushed down the sides of my neck and over my shoulders, coming to rest on my upper arms.  “Ready?”

“Yes,” I said, laying one hand on a stomach suddenly assaulted by butterflies. “I’m ready.”

The ceremony itself was brief, simple, and profoundly moving.  In a word, it was perfect.

Surrounded by our friends, we faced each other, hands joined.  I hadn’t expected to be nervous, but I was.  Actually, I was unbelievably nervous.  I don’t even know what words I used, exactly.  I can only hope I said what I wanted to say the way I wanted to say it.  I must not have done too badly, because Eran listened intently, a tender smile playing about his lips.  By the time I fell silent, his eyes were moist.

Then it was his turn.  He cleared his throat.  “The sight of you, the sound of your voice, the mere thought of you … eloquence comes hard.  I could say I owe you my life, Kai-Lee.  Through you I found my life, and through your love I find my life complete.  It seems I’ve always loved you; it seems each day I love you more.  From this moment forward, there will be no one for me but you.  We’re one, you and I.  If you mourn, I mourn.  If you rejoice, so will I.  I promise to stay by your side, to hold you close to my heart, to esteem, cherish, and protect you for the rest of my days.”

By the time he was done, we were both misty-eyed.

Afterwards we sealed our commitment with a kiss, another custom I had read about during my research.  Historians traced the evolution of the nuptial kiss back to man’s earliest days, most characterizing it as an outgrowth of the gesture used to seal legal contracts and such.  Call me a hopeless romantic, but the lesser-known theory that melted my heart described the kiss as an exchange of “the breath of life,” the act that completed the spiritual union between man and woman.

When I mentioned the custom and its possible origins to Eran, he had smiled and run a finger down my cheek.  “Symbolic of the breath of life, eh?  I’m rather partial to that particular brand of symbolism.  Let’s do it.”

After the kiss, everybody crowded around us, hugging, kissing cheeks, slapping backs, and shaking hands.  For the next two hours, we ate and talked and laughed, avoiding disturbing or painful subjects by unanimous, unspoken consent.  Isidor read a sonnet he composed for the occasion, and Lu showed us the sketch of a portrait she planned to do as a gift.

“I’ll paint your faces, one in profile, the other facing front—sheer portraits that overlap.  These other images—equations, the pyramids, a carbon atom, this round twentieth-century timepiece with a numbered face—will sort of … float through your features and into the background, symbolizing the joining of your lives.”

Overwhelmed by both the artistry and the love it represented, “By the Sage!” was the best I could come up with.

Eran said, “I can’t wait to see the finished product.”

“Well, if you had given me a little more notice, I could have had it ready for tonight.”  Lu smiled mischievously.  “Now you’ll have to wait for it.”

As for what happened later, when Eran and I were alone ….

If you had asked me yesterday, I would have told you I knew everything there was to know about sexual relationships.  I was sure I had experienced everything possible in that regard.  Who knew?  I can’t describe, let alone understand, exactly what happened between us—how a simple caress became so much more than a physical touch.  His kiss was like strong wine.  And when he whispered my name?  It was a one-word symphony … or a prayer.  For the first time in my life, I lost myself—body, mind, and spirit—in someone else.  Of course, it wasn’t just anyone, it was Eran.  I was his, he was mine, and before long, it was impossible to tell where his pleasure ended and my own began.  The effect was explosive.

This morning we both agreed our sense of intimacy is almost overpowering.  This newfound togetherness ….  It’s hard to describe.  I have to keep reminding myself this is only the beginning, because I can’t imagine feeling any closer to Eran than I do right now.  It will be interesting to see where we go from here.

We discussed that and about a hundred other topics over oatmeal scones, heaping bowls of mixed fruit, and steaming mugs of Eran’s favorite English breakfast tea.

He complimented me on my new, floor-length ice-blue robe.  “That silvery-bluish color brings out your eyes.”  He grimaced.  “And honesty compels me to say it’s a charming substitute for that lime green monstrosity.  Which, by the way, I hope never again to lay eyes on.”

I, on the other hand, didn’t tell him he looked adorably scruffy with his hair messed up and his face bristling with blond whiskers.  I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure he would understand.  I wasn’t sure I understood.  I had seen him tousled and unshaven on plenty of other mornings, but this morning was different.

Maybe we wanted to savor the unexpected newness of it all, or maybe we were in no hurry to wade back into the fray.  Whatever the reason, we took our time with breakfast, lingering at my pint-sized, square kitchen table for a couple of hours at least.  The subject of customs surrounding monogamy came up again as we were finishing our meal.

“So your name would have changed to Kai-Lee Symon?” he asked.

I nodded, swallowing a bite of scone.  “The custom goes way back and cuts across a lot of cultures.  The woman often adopted the man’s surname, sometimes for legal reasons, sometimes social.”

“Tom and Anna Fox,” he nodded, sipping tea.

“Right.  But changing your name to your husband’s wasn’t nearly as common by then.  The practice started to die out in the mid-twentieth century.  Very few women were changing their names by the time the Foxes married.”

“Why do you suppose she did it?”

Spearing a last fat strawberry, I shrugged.  “Maybe she loved him the way I love you.”

“Lucky man.”  His lips curved softly as he shook his head.  “You humble me, Red.  What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“I’m sort of new at this business,” I replied smiling, “but I don’t think anyone deserves love.  It’s more like … a free gift.  Maybe that’s what makes it so amazing.”

“You, my darling, are wise beyond your years,” he decided and polished off his scone.

Still smiling, I picked up my tea, then paused.  “This is nice, really nice.  I wish ….”

“Go on.  You wish …?”

“I wish it could be like this every morning.”

“You’re saying you wish we could live together.”

My smile wobbled as I put down my cup.  Reality was intruding despite our best efforts.  “Guess you think I’m unforgivably greedy, huh?”

“Not in the least.  I admire a woman who wants it all.”  He reached across the table to clasp my hand.  “I want it, too, Kai.  You must know that.”

“What are we going to do, Eran?  How are we going to hide this?  Even if we don’t live together, our feelings for each other have got to be written all over our faces.  What if we give ourselves away?”

“We won’t.”

“I hope not, because things are bad enough as it is.  Everybody’s already against us.  Against you and me and our friends, I mean.”

“Not us, Red.  They’re against what we stand for.”

“The truth.”

“Yes.”

I reached across the table to take his hand.  “Love like ours shouldn’t be outlawed, Eran.”

“No, it shouldn’t.”

“But it is, which brings us back to my first question:  What are we going to do?”

He lifted my hand to his lips.  “We’ll figure it out.  We belong to one another now.  Whatever we do, we’ll do it together.  Whatever has to be faced, we’ll face together.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts.  Let’s not borrow trouble.  Just let’s take one day at a time.  All right?”

“All right,” I agreed with a sigh.  “One day at a time.”

“That’s the spirit.”  He kissed my hand again, before releasing it.  He picked up the teapot, touched a hand to its side, and smiled.  “Still hot.  Would you like another cup?”

“Sure.  Why not?”  I leaned back in my chair, watched him pour, and wondered if this was the right moment to tell him about my journal.  The decision to tell him had been easy; opening my mouth and going through with it was something else again.  How would he react?

“Sugar?”

“Mm.”

“Is that, ‘Mm, yes?’,” he asked politely, “or ‘Mm, I’m thinking and didn’t actually hear a word you said?’”

That got my attention.  I smiled apologetically.  “Sorry.  You’re right:  I was thinking.”

“Ah.”  He poured his own tea.  “About?”

“About a surprise I have for you.  Sort of.  Talking about taking one day at a time reminded me.”

“I’m all ears, Red.”

“I’ve been … well …”  I hesitated, feeling ridiculously self-conscious.  “I’ve been keeping a sort of … uh … a sort of a journal,” I confessed haltingly.  “For a while.”

The cup stopped halfway to his lips.  He set it down slowly, his eyes bright with interest.  “A journal?”  I nodded. “I take it by ‘journal’ you don’t mean a scholarly publication.”  I shook my head no.  “A … personal memoir, then?  Like a diary?”

“Uh-huh.”  I barely resisted the urge to squirm.  “Like a diary.”

He whistled softly.  “I don’t want to be a wet blanket, but in view of the fact that everything we think and most of what we’ve done is either against the Protocols or about to be, isn’t writing it all down a bit risky?”

I nodded.  “That’s what Rune said.”

Eran’s eyes widened.  “Rune?”

“He found my journal when he was spying on us.  He did admit it was a novel idea, though.”

“A novel idea.”  He closed his eyes.  “Lovely.”  He opened his eyes again, his expression growing sober and concerned.  “Listen, Red, if Rune thinks this journal you’ve been keeping could prove dangerous—”

“Oh, he doesn’t.  Not anymore, I mean.  Not since he encrypted it.”

“Rune encrypted your journal.”  Eran raked his fingers through his hair, a man clearly struggling to keep up.  “Well, that’s a relief, I suppose.”

The scene wasn’t turning out to be quite as romantic as I had pictured it.  I decided to get things back on track.  “I haven’t told anyone else, but I wanted you to know about it, because I love you, and I wanted to share something that’s important to me.”

His troubled gaze warmed and softened.  “Thank you, darling.”

“I didn’t want there to be any secrets between us.”

“I agree, and I love you for it.”

“I love you, too.”  I toyed with my fork, working myself up to the big finish.  “So.”  I lifted one shoulder. “Do you want to read it?”

Ω

Chapter 33

Coming back to history was like coming home.  I didn’t expend much time or energy wondering whether my passion for history was encoded, learned, my choice, or all of the above.  The Alpha helix was a fact of life.  It wasn’t the only fact of life anymore, but it was undeniably part of me.  I discovered I could live with that, because genetic commonalities with Kai-Lee Alpha notwithstanding, I was blazing my own trail.  My self-concept was evolving daily, complete with a fascinating assortment of non-programmed interests and talents, including gardening and journaling.  Ten days ago in front of six witnesses Eran and I had stepped way out of prescribed bounds.  In other words, I had broken the approved mold and thrown away the pieces.  Realizing I could live life on my terms and enjoy history, too, only made freedom that much sweeter.

As it was, I couldn’t have picked a better time to dive back into my work.  With so much to hide and so many people snooping around, I had developed a fall-back plan:  Keep a low profile.  It sounded simple, but keeping a low profile without seeming to keep a low profile wasn’t all that easy.

The highly charged, scarily fluid situation aboard the Janus was a double-edged sword in that respect.  On the upside, since everybody was on edge, I didn’t have to paste a business-as-usual smile on my face and act like I didn’t have a care in the world.  Emotional distress was okay and even expected, but only certain kinds of distress and only to a certain degree.  Which brings us to the situation’s downside.  Every concerned Colonist was warily eyeballing every other concerned Colonist, ready to report “possibly unstable behavior”—or what passed for it in the minds of the beholders, anyway—at the drop of a hat.  Given the delicately balanced performance this unsettled atmosphere demanded, going back to work seemed like a good way to stay out of trouble.

So there I sat, alone in my quarters, researching various peoples’ bids for personal freedom.  Maybe I can dust off a strategy or two, I mused.

I was admiring the brilliance of Mohandas Gandhi’s nonviolent, civilly-disobedient independence movement—and wondering how he would have handled the whole Alpha-Genesis issue—when the computer announced, “Alis Jayson would like to be admitted.”  I spent the next ten seconds at a complete loss.  Then curiosity got the best of me, and I hurried out of my study and across the salon to find out what she wanted.

“Doctor Jayson, come in.”

Except for an almost girlish fringe of bangs, her blond hair was pulled back and coiled in an elegant knot at her nape—the style emphasizing a heart-shaped face and slashing cheekbones most women would die for.  A long-sleeved lavender tunic cropped at the waist and a pair of tailored black slacks accentuated her trim, athletic build.  She looked like a woman who had it all together, an impression only slightly marred by a hint of redness in those light blue eyes and the fine, tense line of her lips.

“Please, call me Alis,” she said as the portal closed behind her.  I’m sorry to drop in on you so unexpectedly.”

“No problem.  I’ve been up to my ears in research since breakfast.  I could use a break.”  I had never considered myself the most perceptive person alive, but when she meandered over to the chessboard and lightly fingered the Saracen queen, I sensed she needed time.

“I’ve never seen an actual chess set,” she murmured.

Even though she wasn’t looking at me, I shrugged.  “I can’t get into the virtual version.  I’m into tactile tactics … need to touch my pieces while I plot my next move.  Besides,” I added with gleeful relish, “there’s nothing quite as satisfying as holding a captured knight in your fist.”

She nodded absently and continued to wander around the salon.  Finally, she turned and smiled.  “I like your decor.  It’s … exotic.”

“Thank you … I think.”  I smiled back to let her know I was kidding.  Wanting to set her completely at ease if I could, I headed toward the galley, explaining over my shoulder, “I could use a glass of iced tea.  How about you?”

“Iced tea would be wonderful.  No sugar,” she qualified.

“Iced tea, no sugar coming up.  Have a seat,” I suggested.  “I’ll be right back.”

She raised her voice so I could hear her from the other room.  “You must be wondering why I’m here.”

“The question did cross my mind,” I admitted, taking two tall glasses out of the cupboard.

“Rune Gaspar sent me.”

My fingers froze over the touch screen on the beverage unit.  “Rune sent you to see me?”

“Yes.  I got the impression you would know why.”

“Really?”  I bit my lower lip and frowned in thought as I set one of the glasses in the slot designated Cold and punched in the settings.  The only reason Rune would send someone to me was if they ….  But Alis Jayson?  Well, if it had happened to Ke-Ling, I guessed with a mental shrug, it could happen to anyone.  I picked up the glasses and turned, startled to find her standing four feet away.  I hadn’t even heard her come into the galley.

“I thought he might have referred me to you, because you could help me … deal with things.”

“Why don’t we just sit here?” I nodded toward the kitchen table.  Scrambling to gather my thoughts, I handed her a frosty glass before taking the seat across from her.

Her gaze was level and intent.  “Can you?”

“Let’s hope so,” I replied with a lopsided grin.  “I don’t even want to think about the lecture I’ll get if I make a liar out of Rune.”  I sipped, feeling mildly guilty about the fact that while she was drinking healthy, I had loaded my tea with sugar.  “Suppose you tell me how he got around to sending you, and we go from there?”

Her eyes swept my face; I wondered if she was sizing me up.  Whatever she read in my features must have convinced her to take a chance on me … or maybe Rune’s recommendation had already decided her.  Either way, her next words explained the momentary hesitation.  “Someone turned me in.”

I stared.  “You’re kidding.”

One corner of her mouth lifted wryly.  “Don’t I wish.”

“Do you know who?”

“I do, actually.  Doctor Hahona felt honor bound to come to me first.  He wanted to explain his reasons and express his deep personal concern for my psychological well-being before going to the authorities.”

“Doctor Hahona reported you?”

“You seem surprised.”

“I am.  I thought you two were friends, and he seems so … well … nice,” I stammered.

“We are friends … at least, I hope we still are … and he is nice,” Alis answered with a rueful smile.  “But he’s also a medical professional, and based on the criteria laid out at the assembly he felt he had no choice.”  She paused.  “He’s incredibly gifted and rarely misdiagnoses a patient.”

“Not even you?”

“I was one of his few slips, and he wasn’t completely off in my case.”  Leaning back in her chair, she sipped tea before continuing, “The way it appeared to him, I had become withdrawn in the weeks since Ke-Ling’s suicide and appeared to be displaying many of the symptoms associated with the so-called breakdown assumed to have led to it, mild depression and feelings of isolation being the most prominent.”  She bit her lower lip before confessing, “Ampah may have misdiagnosed the depression and misunderstood the withdrawal, but he was right on target about the feelings of isolation.”  Boy, did that sound familiar.  I nodded sympathetically.  “Based on his perceptions,” she summed up, “he had a professional, as well as a personal, obligation to report me.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed, but decided not to press the point.  “Okay, so much for his perceptions.  What was really going on with you?”
She tilted her head.  “Since Rune directed me to you, I would have expected you to know.”

“I could probably come up with a general outline based on my own experience, but I would like to hear how it was for you.”

“All right,” she agreed pensively.  She started to toy with her glass, gently turning it around and around.  “I wasn’t what you would call close to Ke-Ling,” she finally began.  “I guess you could say we were more than acquaintances but less than friends.  We also had a loose working relationship—every now and then he would consult me or I him … that sort of thing.  The point is, over the years I had enough contact with him to become absolutely convinced he was one of the most exceptional scientists I had ever worked with, as well as one of the most pragmatic, well-balanced individuals I had ever met.”

“I don’t think anybody would disagree with that, even now” I said.  “They would simply qualify your assessment by claiming he changed when his research hit a wall.”

“Wishful thinking isn’t a good approach … in medicine or in life.”  Alis took a sip of tea, then went back to turning her glass.  “I was stunned when he committed suicide.  Well, we all were, weren’t we?  It was a terrible loss.”

More terrible for some of us than others, I thought, but kept it to myself.

“I couldn’t get what he had done or the things he said in that broadcast out of my mind,” she continued.  “No man goes to the lengths he did unless he’s convinced beyond doubt he’s right.  And this wasn’t any man.  Ke-Ling was a model researcher—objective, intuitive, experienced, steady, determined, observant, imaginative.  By imaginative I mean he could conceive of possibilities before anyone else even remotely suspected them.  If the Known Span research could have been taken in another direction, he would have been the first to spot it.  In light of what I knew about his character and professionalism, when he said the Known Span couldn’t be breached, I was inclined to believe him.  “The more I thought about what he had said, the more sense it made.  Despite science’s best, most concerted efforts, death remains a part of life.  Whether we like to admit it or not, dying appears to be a natural process.  I began to ask myself if we hadn’t taken the wrong perspective all along—been so focused on the end of life we lost sight of life itself.  On another note, I started to wonder about what actually happens when bodily functions cease.  What happens to the individual consciousness inside the shell?  Metaphorically speaking, the Prime Tenet reduces physical death to the equivalent of shedding an old suit.  Dress the consciousness in a new one, and on we go.  Something told me it wasn’t that simple.”

“I don’t think it is either.”  I pondered everything she had said, then frowned.  “I admit fighting your way through to the right conclusions isn’t much fun.  But getting serious about life … and death … is a long way from being depressed.”

She traced a finger through the condensation on her glass.  “Yes, it is.  But I can see where my affect might have suggested depression to an outside observer.”

“So can I,”  I had to admit, and took a drink.  “So you suspected Ke-Ling might be right.  Where did you go from there?”

Her lips curved again.  “After I reviewed the literature on the identicalness of clones and combed through the Protocols?”

“The Protocols did it for me,” I put in with a nod.

“All the way, I’m afraid.  Came to agree with Ke-Ling on all counts.  About the time I decided to take his advice and live fully, Ampah reported me.”  She paused.  “Fortunately, he reported me to Rune.”

Remembering the heart-stopping terror that effectively paralyzed me the night Gaspar popped up at Ke-Ling’s place, I chuckled.  “I’ll bet you had a few bad moments before you found out he was on your side.”

“I was already kissing my psyche good-bye,” she drawled.  Her expression grew serious.  “I knew I couldn’t fool the investigators indefinitely, but I decided to make them work for whatever they got.  Sitting in Rune’s office I was so focused on keeping my answers vague yet believable, it took me an hour to realize he might working with me.  We danced around a while longer before I finally calmed down enough to pick up on the signals he was sending—he not only knew what I had decided, he had gotten there ahead of me.  I was floored.”

“Rune specializes in flooring people.”  My mind raced ahead.  “But what happens now?  What are we going to do about Hahona?”

“We,” she murmured, smiling.  “I like the sound of that.”

“Listen, Alis, I don’t know how much Rune told you, but you’re less alone than you think.”  When she started to ask a question, I held up a hand.  “Before we go into the details, fill me in on Rune’s plan.”

Her eyebrows rose.  “How did you know he had a plan?”

“Trust me, Rune always has a plan.”

“I already do trust you, Kai-Lee.  It feels good.”  Her brow furrowed in concentration.  “Like I said, he was working with me all along.  In retrospect, the session went like a carefully scripted play from beginning to end.”

“With Rune directing the dialog?”

“Exactly.  What I don’t know is how he knew what I would say.”

“He didn’t … couldn’t.  What he could do was try to control the interview by framing his questions in a way that would allow you to answer honestly—so the computer readings wouldn’t reflect any deviations from the truth—but without incriminating yourself.  With any luck, your instinct for self-preservation would fill in the blanks.  At least, that’s how he explained it to us a couple weeks ago.  I told you he always has a plan—or in this case, a script.”

“Thank goodness!  I only wish I had read his signals sooner; it would have saved a lot of wear and tear on my cardio-vascular system.  Of course to be fair, I was petrified and his cues were understated, bordering on oblique.  If I read him right, he was concerned about being monitored?”

“Oh, you read him right.  I used to think he was paranoid, but now that they’re on the hunt for people like us, I’m beginning to see things his way.  So if he was operating in full spook mode, how did he let you know what his plan is?”

“Simple.  He informed me—and anyone who might be listening—he intended to record his official report as soon as I left, but in the interest of sparing me additional strain, he was going to apprise me of his findings.  After questioning me and carefully evaluating the detector readings—which he would append to the report—he attributed my behavior to fatigue and stress, both of which are perfectly understandable reactions to current events.  He then had me record a personal affidavit, including my promise to take Somazine and contact my Adjuster if I didn’t feel better after a few nights’ sleep.  Rune said he also planned to note the fact that Doctor Hahona seemed unduly agitated, meriting closer surveillance, which would be conducted by none other than the Minister of Security himself.  The whole package would be transmitted directly to the Council.”

“Classic Rune—simple, yet devious.”

“Once the formalities were taken care of, he told me I was free to go but warned he would be checking up on me.  Sure enough, he stopped me in the corridor the next day, ostensibly to find out whether I had taken the Somazine as agreed.  I nodded, ready to assure him I actually had when he muttered, ‘You need to talk to Kai-Lee Fox.’”  She shrugged.  “And here I am.”

“Here you are,” I agreed with a smile.  “You said you thought I could help you ‘deal with things?’”

Moving her glass out of the way, she leaned forward, folding her forearms atop the table  “I’m almost sure of it now.  You’ve been where I am, haven’t you?”

I nodded.  “About four months ago.”

“How did you negotiate the change?”

“Not nearly as well as you have.  I fought it for weeks, almost killed myself in the process.  Even after I admitted the truth, I was afraid to give into it completely.”

Her blue eyes were alive with inquisitive interest.  “But no one was after you then.  Why were you afraid?”

“I was convinced it would destroy my life.  Talk about a complete one-eighty!  I’m giving life all I’ve got these days.”  I grinned crookedly.  “You know what they say about converts.”

“Giving life all you’ve got.  That’s what Ke-Ling meant by living fully, isn’t it?”

I smiled sadly.  “Yeah, except he never managed to get that far.  He couldn’t let go of what he had been, so he couldn’t embrace what he could have been.”  I drew a breath.  “My friends and I, on the other hand, are excited about exploring the possibilities, especially the ones we weren’t programmed for.”  I hesitated, searching for the words.  “Look, Alis, the way we see it, we’ve each got this one life, and it’s a quick trip in the cosmic scheme of things.  It only makes sense for us to wring every day as dry as we can, make each one count for something.  Granted, the latest protocol added a nasty edge we weren’t expecting, but it doesn’t change anything.  We’re determined to live well or die trying.”

Okay, maybe that was a little over the top, I realized belatedly.  Not that it wasn’t true, but it was just barely possible a “persevere even in the face of death” speech wasn’t exactly the kind of help Alis Jayson had been hoping for.  Nice going, Kai.  You could have at least eased her into the heavy stuff.

Since my attempts to read her now-pensive expression were getting me nowhere, I stood, grabbed our glasses, and sat them on the counter.  I turned toward the table, an apology on my lips.  “Listen, Alis, I didn’t mean to—”

“Thank you.”

I blinked.  “For what?”

“I thought I might be going overboard with this,” she replied.  “Now I see I hadn’t taken it far enough.  I wanted to live life fully but hadn’t gotten as far as figuring out what that meant or how important it was to me.  Actually taking steps … what was it you said? … exploring the possibilities?  Making every day count?  That hadn’t even entered my mind.”  A slow smile lit up her features.  “It’s exciting.”

“These days it’s also dangerous,” I felt duty bound to remind her.

“Hey, I’ve been to the interrogation room, remember?”  Her smile warmed her voice, but her no-nonsense gaze was direct.

Good enough.  She was going into it with her eyes open.  I let myself relax.  “That’s right, you’ve got a bona fide case number.”

“And don’t you forget it, sister.  Now, there’s something I would like to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“These friends you mentioned.  How many?  Who are they?  And when can I meet them?”

“Alis,” I said, moving away from the counter.  “You’re going to love these people.  Suppose we go into the salon and get comfortable?  Telling you our story is liable to take a while.”

Ω

©  2010, Kathy DiSanto, all rights reserved