Incarnate- Essence

by Thomas Harper

  Or you’re just telling yourself that so you can feel less guilty, Evita said.

  “No,” I said, “but I have some other things I want to look into down here. I figured I could take over while I do.”

  She shrugged, standing up and grabbing the vodka bottle, “suit yourself. Just getting ready to run Western blots anyway. I fucking hate those things.”

  She squeezed herself past me through the cramped space. Everything about her smelled of booze. I was going to have to talk to her about that at some point – like so many other things – but now wasn’t the time. I really did have other things to look into.

  After she got up the stairs, I made sure to get the gel running for her Western blots – a process that took me at least four times longer on a good day as Akira on a bad day, only further driving home how much I needed her – before doing what I really came down to do.

  First, I checked on my LAN turtle. Sure enough, it gave me access to the hospital’s network. Immediately I went to Akira’s file. It gave her history – hormone replacement therapy, genetic modifications, implantation of female organs to the abdomen, implantation of transcranial direct current stimulation electrodes and optogenetic fibers into the central nervous system, pregnancy with traumatic birthing process, examination of neural implants, organic nanofiber network growth in neural-muscular-vascular tissues-

  “Huh…” I said aloud.

  Akira never mentioned anything about an organic nanofiber network. Whatever that even was, it wasn’t done by the hospital. She only had it checked out with a full-body MRI scan shortly before the quinceañera. She also used a different doctor than Doctor Taylor for the scan. The file gave no information except that the nanofiber growth was ‘successful.’

  My guess was that it had to do with her upgrades she told me about. Answers would have to wait for another time when I could ask her about it. In the meantime, I went to the examination of her neural implants.

  “Aha,” I nodded to myself.

  In the notes it said that the neural implants were indeed damaged. What was interesting is that the patient – Akira – was assessed and judged incapable of making rational decisions for herself. So, the husband – Masaru – was asked what was to be done. Masaru requested that they fix but deactivate the implants by disconnecting their bio-circuit power converter and manipulate the sensor.

  In other words, he had Doctor Taylor shut off Akira’s brain implants while making it appear like they were functioning. To trick Akira. That was the reason she fell into such a deep depression in the months after the border crossing. Why she seemed slower than before. Because Masaru wanted her to go natural, without the brain implants to artificially boost her mood and intelligence.

  “Masaru, you bastard…” I said aloud, “I had my suspicions, but I didn’t think you would actually do something like this.”

  Of course, the question then became what to do with this knowledge. Akira was able to fix – and upgrade – her brain implants without telling Masaru. Revealing either one of their secrets to each other probably wouldn’t result in anything productive.

  Except maybe getting Akira to leave Masaru and come back to work with you, Evita said.

  I shook my head. “Losing Akira is…devastating. But I love both of them. I can’t do that to them.”

  They’re mortal, Evita said, their short, pointless lives would be best served by helping you fix the future. Not by living some kumbaya, Little House on the Goddamn Prairie family life.

  I felt taken aback by Evita’s coldness. It sounded like something my right hemisphere might say. But my mind was unified and Evita’s thoughts are my own. I control what she says. She’s a projection, a way for me to think through things. Did I really think that about my friends?

  Or maybe you’re losing control of me, Evita said.

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” I said, forcing the thought out of my mind.

  There was something else I wanted to look into. I wanted to know more about the new receptor found in the children who were given Shift in the PRA.

  I opened up the results for Akira’s computational docking simulations. There were tens of thousands of molecules tested, organized in a large chart based on Kd values. None of the molecules had a smaller Kd – what I continued to think of as binding affinity, despite Akira’s repeated attempts to explain to me why that wasn’t technically true – than the high millimolar range. Not good enough to be biologically relevant.

  It took almost half and hour of going through files to find the ones I wanted, and then another three hours, including the breaks I took in order to attend the Western blot, to figure out the docking simulation program. Akira wrote the program herself, so if I got stuck at a certain part of her protocol, I couldn’t go online to see what other people suggested.

  Once I got the simulation program running, I checked the progress of the Westerns before sitting down with a sigh. I needed someone else who could do lab work. I wasn’t very good at it. Laura hated it. I considered asking Aveena. She was knowledgeable, but didn’t have the same passion for it that people like Akira or Salia did. Hiring someone crossed my mind, but I preferred to get someone I trusted. Someone who believed in what I was doing and would see my goal of giving reincarnation to the world the same way I do.

  Trustworthy? That excludes Doctor Taylor now, I take it? Evita asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, “she was just following hospital protocol. They assessed Akira and thought she couldn’t make decisions for herself. Given her mental state after the border crossing, I don’t really blame them.”

  The progress bar for the molecular docking simulation filled slowly. Knowing that more uncomfortable thoughts might start running through my mind, I went to one of my favorite passtimes – looking into news about Sachi and Imelda.

  Sachi’s people had gone south to Colombia. Apparently playing cleanup with remnants of the cartel. But more interesting was Brazil’s accusations of an arms smuggling operation out of Barranquilla. At first the news hadn’t struck me as anything noteworthy – the cartels weren’t strangers to arms running. What caught my attention was that all of the arms were going to one place. Kinshasa. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, which was embroiled in guerilla street fighting with a rebel group. Sachi was arming my people from the DRC with cartel and Brazilian arms.

  Lately, though, the news was that Brazil was occupying more and more of both Colombia and Venezuela. They accused their governments of being in bed with the forty-eights terrorists. Brazil was well on its way to complete domination of all Latin America.

  There was less news on Imelda. She was still an infant. Her parents were preposterously accused of being connected to Uyghur separatist groups by the Chinese government. The Phillipines government was pressured into extraditing Imelda’s entire family to Beijing. Since then, both Calvin Lind and Anita Patrice had personally taken multiple trips to Beijing, though both appeared to have gone home empty handed.

  If both Benecorp and Enduracorp can’t get to Imelda, there’s no way you will, Evita said.

  “Even if I did,” I said, “what would I do with the infant reincarnation of Jiang Wei?”

  Find out what Benecorp is doing? Evita asked, get whatever information they have on reincarnation?

  I nodded slowly. It was a long shot, but getting to Imelda before Lind or Patrice would be a boon to my mission.

  A long shot, Evita said, but you may have friends in higher places than you realize.

  “Yes…” I said, “Kali Sanyai.”

  I opened up my e-mail and composed a message to Bita telling her I wanted to meet with Kali as soon as she was available. When finished, the progress bar on my simulation was full. I opened up the table Akira’s program spit out, giving me a long readout of results – changes in enthalpy, entropy, Gibbs free energy, timescales, RMSD, etc. I went straight to the Kd and found exactly what I expected. The neural receptor inserted into the Shift-addicted children’s genome had a nanomolar aff
inity for the strange molecule produced in me. The molecule that may be essential for reproducing immortality.

  “Long time, no see,” Darren said as I entered the shed.

  “Been busy,” I said.

  He shrugged, tipping the beer bottle to his lips. Ellen Malloy.

  Ellen Malloy, the LoC Security medic, shot to her feet when I entered. She looked startled, as if they were caught doing something they shouldn’t.

  “Hi,” I said, looking to Ellen, “I’m not sure we’ve been formally introduced.”

  “Ah, where’re my manners,” Darren stood up from his raggedy recliner, bumping the foldout tray next to it, empty beer bottles clinking. “This here’s Ellen Malloy. You remember her from the Easter ‘mancipation?”

  She strode toward me, smiling, hand outstretched. Her drab blue uniform from work had the top shirt button undone, ID card and utility belt removed, her vividly red hair let down, falling to her shoulders.

  “Yeah,” I said, shaking her hand, “the medic.”

  “Right,” Darren said, looking to her, “an’ this’s Eshe…” he turned to me, “you gotta last name?”

  “Technically, Eshe isn’t even my name,” I grinned, releasing Ellen’s hand, “it’s a nickname. I don’t know what my birth name or family name are.”

  “Ah, well…this here’s Eshe,” he said.

  “He’s the one that talked Akira into letting you stay here?” Ellen asked, looking to Darren.

  Darren glanced at me with an embarrassed grin. “The very same.”

  “I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” Ellen turned back to me.

  “Is that right?”

  “It’s mostly been good,” she said, a smirk coming to her lips, “mostly.”

  “Well, he doesn’t know me that well,” I said.

  Both of them laughed. I could tell that Darren felt relaxed now that he knew I wasn’t there to chastise him for bringing her over. Akira had forbidden him from bringing anyone else over. But she was gone and I didn’t care one way or the other.

  “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” I said.

  “No,” Ellen said, “I just got off work and Darren picked me up so we could have something to eat,” she signaled to the Chinese food boxes on the bed.

  “Well, I was hoping to chat with Darren for a bit,” I said.

  The look that came over Darren’s face told me he knew what this was going to be about. He looked to Ellen, silently pleading that she would get him out of this. She seemed to understand his distress.

  “Is it something that has to be done now?” she asked.

  “I can’t think of a better time,” I said, keeping my eyes fixed on Darren, “after tomorrow I’m going to be out of town for a while. Plus, I’ve already told them we’re coming over.”

  Darren avoided my gaze, inhaling and exhaling slowly before saying, “well, she at least needs a ride home.”

  “We can drop her off on the way over the Deidre and John’s,” I said, looking to Ellen.

  She nodded slowly. Darren must have told her I was going to do this eventually. She had the same distress in her face, thinking about what he was about to go through.

  “Alright then,” she said, “let’s go.”

  The three of us exited the shack and walked to the truck in the driveway. I got into the middle seat, sitting between Ellen and Darren as he brought up the program for Ellen’s house and activated it, the truck backing itself out of the driveway and heading down the road.

  “So, I take it you’re aware of why this is a difficult trip for him,” I said to Ellen.

  “He’s told me what he did,” Ellen said, keeping her gaze forward.

  “And you’re okay with that?” I asked.

  “No,” she said, “but neither is he. And I am not…I’m not without my own…my own baggage.”

  The three of us sat quiet for some time as the truck glided down the streets. Darren looked more and more anxious as time went on, Ellen staring contemplatively out the windshield.

  “You think I’m torturing him,” I said.

  “I don’t see how this’ll be good for anyone,” she said, finally looking to me, “I don’t know what kinda hold you got over everyone, why they all seem to look ta you for everything, but I think you’re makin’ a mistake with this.”

  “He’ll need to do it eventually or-”

  “He ain’t ready,” Ellen said, “trust me.”

  “He’s right,” Darren said to her, “I need to do this now.”

  Ellen looked back and forth between the two of us and said, “Eshe, you seem like a nice kid, getting’ everyone to allow Darren to stay there with you, despite what he’s done. But the more I hear about you from everyone – from Darren and from my coworkers – the more confused I get about why they all think you’re so important.”

  “Ellen, please,” Darren pleaded.

  “I’m serious,” she said, eyes locked on me, “why do they listen to you? I thought Akira was the leader.”

  “I don’t force anyone to do anything,” I said, “the way I get people to listen to me is to tell them what they need to hear.”

  The truck came to a stop in another driveway. Ellen looked back and forth between us again, and then shook her head.

  “Call me after yer done if ya need,” she said to Darren, then looked to me, “it was nice meetin’ you, Eshe. It really was. I hope that this can do fer Darren what ya think it’ll do.”

  Before I could say anything, she shut the door and started toward the tiny house. I looked back to Darren, his expression anguished. I gave him a nod and he put in the program for Deidre and John’s house and the truck started moving again.

  “I dunno if this is a good idea,” Darren said.

  The truck had just pulled up into Deidre and John’s driveway. Darren was sweating, despite a mild evening breeze. Eyes propped wide open, he stared nervously at the front door.

  “The Waters’ know you’re coming,” I said, “I spoke with them before coming out to get you.”

  “What about the kids?” Darren said, eyes still locked on the door, “or Liana? I…I tried usin’ her as a human shield.”

  “Liana knows you’re coming,” I said, “and so do some of the older kids.”

  “They’re-they’re all ones from the Christmas Crossin’ ain’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “From the house I worked in…” he said, exhaling slowly.

  “They are.”

  “What if they hate me?”

  “Some probably will,” I said, “some might forgive you. Some might not care. Others might not even remember you.”

  Darren was breathing heavily, hands gripping the steering wheel for comfort.

  “This’s harder’n drivin’ headlong into the middle’uva gunfight,” he said, “rather be doin’ that again.”

  “Trust me, I’d rather be doing something else, too,” I said, “but sometimes we have to do something difficult. And sometimes getting that done with makes everything else easier.”

  Darren took a deep breath and exhaled. “Awright. Let’s get on with it, then.”

  Both of us opened the truck doors, stepping out into the evening breeze. The sun sat just beneath the horizon, the last dying rays casting onto puffs of clouds. I waited for Darren to walk around and lead the way up onto the porch. He tentatively knocked on the door.

  Almost as if awaiting us, the door swung open. Darren just about jumped back. In front of him stood Liana, her face grown quite plump since the rescue. She had on a nice gown, as if this were a formal get together. It took a moment for recognition to enter Darren’s eyes.

  “H-howdy,” he said, wincing at his own familiar greeting.

  Liana smiled, “welcome Señor. Please, come in.”

  She opened the screen door and stepped aside, allowing us in. Darren looked around nervously, avoiding Liana’s eyes. She continued to smile at him.

  “Hello,” I smiled to her.

  “Hello,” she said back,
keeping her eyes on Darren. “Mr. and Mrs. Waters are waiting for you in the living room with the kids.”

  Darren’s face went even more pale at this announcement. He shakily took his shoes off and waited for someone else to go first. Liana turned and walked down the hall toward the living room. Darren looked back to me and I signaled for him to go ahead. He looked to the floor and started shuffling forward. I followed after him. It felt like I was marching him to the gallows. His arms hung in front of him, left hand holding the right wrist.

  We emerged into the enormity of the Waters’ living room, Liana standing to the side as if she was presenting him to everyone. Deidre and John sat in high-backed winged chairs, the remaining kids populating the couch and floor. Standing in the doorway it felt almost as much like a show as Liana seemed to think it was. Deidre scanned across the kids with a hopeful look. John glowered expectantly at Darren, as if he might revert to his old ways and take the kids captive again. I saw Regina also scanning over the kids, her motherly instinct kicking in. Most of the other kids – down to eleven of them after the adoptions – looked at him with a neutral gaze.

  He’s just one of the many trafficker’s faces they saw. He means nothing to them.

  “Uh…hu-hi,” Darren said.

  “Hello,” a few of the kids said in monotone voices, as if rehearsed.

  “This is him?” John said, looking to me as if he expected more.

  “It is,” I said.

  “How, uh…how ya’ll doin’?” Darren asked.

  The room stood silent for a moment before Regina lifted her small body from the floor where she sat near Deidre’s legs.

  “We’re doing quite well now,” Regina said, “things have gotten a lot better since we were freed.”

  Darren’s skin looked almost translucent with how pale he became, sweat beading on his brow.

  “Some of us were held captive for a very short amount of time,” Regina continued, never taking her childlike eyes off Darren, the severity of the stare betraying her actual age, “others of us were held for a very long time. No matter the length, all of us suffered. We were children. We were supposed to be innocent. And we had that stolen from us by people like you. All of us.”