“It has to be less damaging than that,” I signaled to the bottle as she opened it, “it’s ten in the morning.”
“That means I have catching up to do,” she said, putting the bottle to her lips and taking a drink.
A tangle of neck-length black-dyed hair sat atop her narrow face. It was recently washed, but only on account of the dye job she did while I was in India. Since Akira and Masaru left, Laura spent all her free time – when she wasn’t taking a shift working on the chromosome treatment in the lab – drinking, working on her art, or watching movies. She rarely even put in the effort to dress anymore.
“It’s not healthy,” I said.
“Neither is getting shot and blown up all the damn time,” she turned around to regard me with bloodshot eyes, “besides, mom and dad aren’t living with us anymore.”
“Actually,” I said, “Akira is coming back down to go along with me. She should be here any time now.”
“That ought to bring some cheer to this place,” she said, taking a sip of vodka.
“She didn’t seem as bad when I spoke with her.”
“Have you talked to Aveena about helping out in our lab?” Laura asked.
“Not yet,” I said, “next time she comes by I will. Are you that sick of working down there?”
She took another sip. “It bores the shit out of me. We ought to go out and do something again. Without the explosive ending.”
“Sure,” I said, “yeah, we can do that.”
Something like an actual smile briefly passed over her lips before she looked away.
“Laura…” I said, waiting until she looked back to me again. “About what happened at the quinceañera…you know I think you’re-”
“This time I’ll come up with the prank,” she said, “your little stunt with the hooker over the PA fell a bit flat.”
“Right…”
“I’ll get back upstairs before mom shows up and sees me walking around in my underwear,” she turned and started for the stairs before stopping. “Too late.”
A moment later came a knock on the door. I walked over and answered it, finding Akira there. She smiled at me for a moment, raising her eyebrows when she spotted Laura a couple paces behind me in her underwear.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Akira asked.
Laura took a sip of vodka. “Nope. I was just heading upstairs.”
She started her way up as I let Akira in.
“What’s with her?” Akira asked in a low voice.
“She’s…just being Laura,” I said, “come on in. How was the ride?”
She smiled, shrugging. “It’s not too bad. I can take the hyperloop from Boise all the way down to Walsenburg and then shuttle west. Only a few hours travel.”
“That’s good.”
Akira smiled again. I was taken aback with the remarkable transformation she had gone through in just the couple weeks since the quinceañera. Everything about her looked healthier. Her neck length hair was trimmed and freshly washed. The dark rings under her eyes were gone, lips no longer chapped, and skin tone once again even and smooth. The tattoos exposed out of her low-cut top seemed to have their dazzling color returned to them, once again pirouetting over her body. The samurai warrior on her left shoulder looked fiercer as he stood with the katana drawn, each kozane dou of the armor more distinct. The fractal pattern tsunami crashing over her arm, being cut through by the katana, evoked the aroma of sea water. The crimson color of the serpent stretching from her back and winding over right shoulder stood out vividly, the ferocious teeth baring from her chest just above the right breast. Yellow, blue, green, black, and red flames sprang over the dragons coiled length like a flowing mane, sprouting into a repeated pattern of flowers and feathers as it stretched down her right arm to the wrist.
Yet, there was a quiet nagging in the back of my mind knowing that it was all somehow artificial – a result of her brain implants manipulating her mind. But the improvement overshadowed that. Akira was better off using something artificial to be happy than being naturally depressed.
Isn’t that what Laura is doing? Evita asked.
“The appointment isn’t for a while now,” I said, “you want some tea?”
“That’d be great,” she said, making her way into the living room, “wow, this place sure looks empty. Just a couch pointed to the window…aren’t you going to buy any more furniture?”
“Probably not,” I said, starting the burner beneath the tea kettle, “Laura and I don’t use the living room often.”
“Maybe you could move some of the lab stuff up here,” she said, “so it’s not so cramped. Or get some more equipment. I bet I could find enough to fill this room, too,” she looked back to me with a big grin.
“You’re sure in a good mood,” I said.
“Well, you know…”
“The brain implants,” I said, “and the, uh, upgrades.”
“I think everyone should get them,” Akira chuckled, “maybe that’s how you can make the future a better place. Give everyone brain implants so they can control their own mood and stop being dicks to everyone.”
I laughed, “you know, you might not be too far off. Maybe I’ll just figure out how people can be reincarnated into a computer so they can literally reprogram their own sense of morality.”
“Sounds like my idea of heaven,” Akira said.
“Speaking of reincarnation,” I said, hearing the tea kettle start to whistle, “have you figured out anything else about that molecule?”
“I don’t have nearly as extensive of a lab up in Idaho as you do here,” Akira spoke, following me into the kitchen as I poured our tea, “I’m only slowly building it up. I’ve mostly been doing some computational and theoretical work. Even with my implants functioning again, I still can’t figure out how the molecule’s formed. How it can have spin-zero property. Where it’s missing chiral centers are. It’s almost like there should be more molecule there that we just can’t see.”
“Is that occupying your time?” I asked, handing her a cup of tea.
“Huh?”
“Working on this,” I said as the two of us went into the living room and sat down on the couch, “is that keeping you occupied?”
“I’m teaching myself a lot of high-level physics,” she said, “that occupies my time. Why?”
“So, you’re not getting bored there?” I asked after taking a sip.
She chuckled, “not quite yet. Is that what you’re worried about?”
I shrugged, “just wondering.”
“You must be staying pretty busy,” she said, “how was India?”
“It’s a very alien place compared to the LoC,” I said, “lots of incredible infrastructure development.”
“What about your meeting with this woman?” she asked before taking a sip.
“Kali Sanyai,” I said, “she is…I don’t know what to make of her. Everyone has an amazing amount of deference to her. I don’t know why.”
“What did she want?”
“She’s worried about that free trade agreement.”
“The GPFTA,” Akira nodded.
“Yeah,” I said, “she wants to recruit the forty-eights to derail the negotiations. Take it down like Sachi did to the U.S. government. That seems all pretty boiler plate. What was weird is that…she wanted to repay me by giving me a wife.”
“She wants to marry you?” Akira raised an eyebrow.
“Not to her,” I said, “to one of her friends. Those Mahavidyas girls that go to all the same social functions. And the three women she brought to present to me like prized livestock…none of them seemed thrilled by the idea.”
Akira shook her head, “I don’t know much about India…is that standard practice there?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I said, “even arranged marriages don’t happen that often there anymore.”
“Interesting…”
“You have a theory?”
“No,” she said, drinking the final bit of her
tea and setting the cup down on the floor, “but an enemy of Benecorp global economic domination has to be a friend of ours, right?”
“That’s my hope,” I said, finishing off my own tea, “you want to get going to the hospital?”
She smiled, “sure.”
Akira and I stepped outside into the mid-morning sun, the eerie quiet of the encroaching desert hitting our ears. Akira placed sunglasses on her face, hung on ears that were once again adorned with earrings, and shut the door behind her with manicured hands.
It is nice seeing her take care of herself again.
As we walked out to the truck sitting in the driveway, the corners of her mouth seemed to subtly droop when she spotted another vehicle sitting near the shack in the backyard. When I saw Ellen’s unmistakable red hair, I knew it was her’s. She and Darren came out of the shack carrying boxes, slowing down when they spotted us approaching, avoiding our gaze.
“What’s going on?” I asked, “I thought Darren was going to take a room in the house?”
Both of them exchanged a glance as they set the boxes into the open trunk and then Ellen said, “We thought it’d be best if he moved out.”
“Where’s he going to stay?” I asked.
“At my place,” Ellen replied, glancing at Akira.
I looked to Darren, “this is what you want?”
He shrugged, looking to Ellen.
“Listen,” Akira said, exhaling as she shifted weight to the other leg, “I…was kind of an asshole at the party. And I may not be excited at the prospect of you being around, but you have been well behaved…and even helpful. And now that I don’t live here anymore, you’re free to take a room in the house if you like. I think…I think you’ve earned it.”
Everyone stared in amazement for a few moments before Ellen spoke up. “Well, uh, I…we thank you for yer honesty. But it’s probly about time he moved on outta here anyway. Y’know, a former trafficker shackin’ up with a couple’uh kids looks kinda…” she shook her head, wild red hair moving around her face, “I don’t mind havin’ him move in with me.”
Darren, seemingly shaken from his astonishment, said, “I, uh…I gotta job waitin’ for me. Workin’ with LoC Security. Ya’ll don’t gotta feed me for takin’ care of the lawn or nothin’ no more.”
“We should have ‘em all moved out in an hour or so,” Ellen said. “If there’s anything ya want left behind or wanna get ridda…”
“Don’t ask me,” Akira said, opening the truck door, “it’s not my house.” She got in and closed the door.
“We should be ok,” I said, “take what you need.”
“Well…I can’t thankya ‘nough for everythin’,” Darren said.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll see each other again,” I nodded to him, “at least in an official capacity, if you’re going to be working for LoC Security,” I added, opening the passenger side door and stepping in.
Akira quickly entered the program for the hospital and the truck took off, backing out of the driveway and turning out onto the road. Darren and Ellen still looked somewhat shocked at the change in Akira’s demeanor. I looked over to her again, even her neutral expression a stark contrast to the withdrawn one she had worn for months.
“I’m glad to see you in a good mood again,” I said.
“It’s great to be in one again,” she laughed, “I wish I did it sooner.”
“Are you going to tell Masaru about it?” I asked.
“No,” she said, “at least not for a while. It makes him happy to think he was able to snap me out of it with the move and everything. It’d probably only bring back bad memories of when I first got the implants if I told him about it.”
“Well, it’s good to have you back,” I said, “even if you’re only here for a couple days.”
“Back…” she chuckled, “that’s a good way to put it, isn’t it? I feel like I was gone that whole time. I hardly know what anyone was even doing.”
“Masaru is a celebrity and Laura and I are making art,” I smirked.
She smiled back. “Have you ever gone through depression like I did?”
I grunted. “Most of my lives for thousands of years.”
“And you just learn to deal with it?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Does it change?” she asked, “depending on the biology of your different lives?”
“It does.”
“How…big is the effect?”
I nodded slowly. “You’re wondering if your transition may have screwed with your mind.”
“I’ve thought about it a few times,” she said, “it was one of the reasons I was feeling…regretful about having done it. Like, if I had just stayed in a male body, maybe the loss of the tCDS wouldn’t have hit me so hard.”
“Well, there is definitely a difference,” I said, “but when you feel the way you did, you would have found any reason to make yourself miserable. If you had stayed as a male, you’d probably have just regretted not going through with the transition and hated yourself for that.”
Akira nodded, considering this. Her face stayed forward, watching from behind her sunglasses as the truck drove itself down the road.
“You know, I thought about getting rid of my tattoos,” she finally said, holding her arms up and looking at the intricate artwork covering them. The sun coming in through the windshield caught the flower petals and feathers on her right arm in just the precise way to make them almost real.
“Masaru mentioned that,” I said.
“They’re both beautiful and ugly,” she said, keeping her gaze on them, “I still love the artwork, but I hate what they represent.” She paused a moment, “I’m glad I didn’t get rid of them. I think they’re as much a part of who I am as Yukiko and Masaru and our whole forty-eights thing…and, of course, being a woman.” She lowered her arms, looking to me, “I’m glad I’m back, too.”
I smiled, “good to hear.”
She returned the smile, “But, I suppose I have some apologizing to do. To you and Laura. To Aveena. Colonel Reynolds,” she shook her head, “Lots of making up to do.”
“I think everyone will understand,” I said.
Akira nodded, her expression becoming more serious.
“Are you going to help Kali?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, “but right now I’m focusing more on Wichita.”
“Yes,” she said, “I saw the docking simulation data you sent me. Very intriguing.”
“What do you make of it?”
“Seems like an odd move,” she said, “they’ve targeted it to just a few certain types of neuron, but it doesn’t contain any conserved intracellular domains. I don’t see what it’s supposed to do. It binds the molecule, undergoes some conformational changes, and then…nothing. No signal cascade. Not that there’s a candidate for any target genes to activate. However, the conformational change in the receptor is a high-energy state. Like it gets stuck in a transition state.”
“Is the molecule somehow getting it stuck?”
“Not in any way I can tell,” she said, “it makes different intermolecular contacts, but nothing strong enough to freeze the conformational change in such a high-energy state.”
“Hopefully we can find out what they were doing.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“I’m going to infiltrate NexBioGen,” I said “and put a hack in. Find out what this receptor is for.”
“You think it’ll lead you to Enduracorp?”
“I’m certain,” I said, “or to Benecorp. We know both of them are aware of the reincarnation chemical. And that they’re not afraid to experiment on children.”
“Are you interested in this to bring justice for the rescued children?” she asked, “or to help find out what Benecorp knows about reincarnation?”
“Can’t it be both?”
“Of course,” she smiled, “but you know me. I have to make sure you don’t repeat what Akira did in Mexico.”
I smi
led back. “Can I ask you for just a tiny bit of help hacking NexBioGen?”
Akira’s eyes lit up at the prospect of helping. “Of course. What do you need?”
“Can you contact someone working for NexBioGen? I asked, “posing as a disgruntled forty-eight. Offer to give them the formula and protocol for making the chromosome treatment.”
“In exchange for what?” She asked, easily following my train of thought.
“Besides money or whatever, I want a chance to speak with CEO Susan Dewitt,” I said, “I need to get into her office to upload the hack. If you could come up with a fake recipe and protocol for the chromosome treatment, that’d be helpful, too.”
Akira nodded eagerly, “I can handle that. A simple malware in the fake chromosome treatment data files using Corbin Montgomery’s RFID chip access. Dewitt will plug it in her computer herself when she goes to look at it. Anything else?”
“Nope,” I said, “consider that your final service to my international terrorist organization.”
In the waiting room of the hospital a pair of reporters stood ready to ambush us. They had somehow gotten wind of my appointment. I recognized one of as the CSA man who was part of the panel interviewing me when I became an internet meme. The other was another man whose press pass said he was from Texas. A Benecorp journalist.
“Is it true you’re here to treat your seizures?” the CSA man asked.
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” I said, sitting in the chair next to Akira, both men standing in front of us with cameras attached to their chest.
“Is it possible your condition’s affectin’ your judgment?” the CSA reporter asked.
“Some folks thinkin’ you might be unstable,” the Texas blogger said, “that this whole ‘forty-eights movement’s’ just a buncha fanatics followin’ Yakuza criminals and the mentally ill.”
“I think we’ve taken enough questions,” Akira said.
“People want answers,” the CSA reporter looked between the two of us.
“That’s enough,” a voice called sternly.
The two reporters turned. Doctor Taylor stood behind with hand on her hip so as to pull the lab coat back, revealing the pistol holstered there. Major Rosaline Riviera stood beside in her LoC Security uniform, M249 slung over her back, pistol holstered at her side.
Incarnate- Essence Page 44
