Incarnate- Essence

by Thomas Harper

  “Not much,” Landon said, “the samples were female origin – had double X chromosomes. Arabic ancestry. No gene doping. No genetic diseases. Probably in her forties or fifties.”

  “What do you know about Angela Garcia?” Sachi said, “Georg Ivanovic? Abu Nassar? Nguyen Ho Diem? Any of these names ring a bell?”

  “Never heard of ‘em,” Landon said.

  “You were on the same list of names as them,” Sachi, “amongst others. All of them are scientists, like you.”

  “Workin’ for…?” Landon asked.

  “All different companies,” Sachi said, “some biotech. Some software. Some materials. All over the world.”

  Landon said nothing, lost in thought.

  “Are you listening?” Sachi said, smacking a hand on the table.

  Landon looked up, “look into their other executives.”

  “We are,” Sachi said.

  Landon nodded.

  “You think they have fake executives,” I said, “like Dewitt.”

  Landon nodded again, “I’m guessin’ the companies they all work for are mid-sized, local affairs. Like NexBioGen.”

  Sachi said nothing.

  “You think they’re all fronts for something,” Akira said, looking to me, “but for what?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, “but whoever it is, they know about us,” I glanced at Sachi.

  “And Enduracorp knows about them,” Sachi said.

  “I’m not sure what you’re talkin’ about,” Landon said, “but what are you gonna do with me? I’ve answered your questions. I didn’t have anything to do with any of this.”

  “What about the receptor?” I asked.

  Landon groaned, “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

  “NexBioGen did more than supply the gene doping to keep those kids in a prepubescent state,” I said, “you developed a receptor that binds your Shift-curing drug.”

  “Oh, right…that was nothing,” Landon said, “it didn’t do anything. It’s a placeholder. We used the binding pocket as an antibody tag to further concentrate the-”

  “Then why was someone in the PRA gene doping the kids with it?” I asked.

  “You’d have to ask Dewitt, or whoever controls her,” Landon said, exasperated, “I told you, I didn’t give any of our work over to those sex traffickers.” She sighed, “now if you’ll excuse me, I have to piss in the bucket they left me for a toilet.”

  “What are you going to do with her?” I asked as Sachi walked us back to our car.

  “I don’t know,” Sachi said.

  “You’re going to kill her?”

  “No.”

  “That’s unusually generous of you,” Akira said.

  Sachi grunted, “She’s a hot fucking commodity at the moment. Might come in handy when I chat with LoC Security about this freeze-out they put on my people.”

  “Do you believe her?” I asked.

  “No,” Sachi said, “I think she’s willing to say anything to save her own ass. Do you believe that line of shit she gave us?”

  I shook my head, “I don’t know if she’s lying or just desperate.”

  “What’s the difference?” Sachi asked.

  We arrived at the car, turning to look at each other.

  “I guess we’ll probably see each other around,” I said.

  “Don’t be such a fucking stranger,” Sachi grinned, “I still want you to be a part of this shit.” She looked to Akira. “Both of you.”

  “I will,” I said, forcing a smile back.

  Akira said nothing.

  “Good,” Sachi said, wrapping her arms around me, the burn in my shoulder causing me to wince. She stepped back, looked to Akira, appearing for a moment not to know what to do with her, and then turned and walked away.

  Akira and I got into the car, a blast of heat hitting me after the vehicle sat in the sun for a couple hours. She input the Denver hospital as the destination, the car automatically taking off. Both of us sat quietly as the vehicle navigated its way across the eastern Colorado plains. Only the sound of the air conditioner, struggling to cool the sun-heated interior, sounded over our tires crunching over gravel roads.

  I finally broke the quiet. “Did you go to Colonel Reynolds funeral?”

  “Yes,” Akira said, turning to look at me, “it was pretty small.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “I wasn’t invited. Major Riviera told me-”

  “Colonel Riviera.”

  “Right,” I said, “Colonel Riviera told me that his wife’s pretty angry at me.”

  “Maybe,” Akira said, “but I think she’s the one that’s angriest.”

  “I see.”

  “Reynolds’ old church is doing a public memorial service for him and the girls,” Akira said, looking to me, “next week. A lot of people around the LoC wanted to pay their respects, so they crowd funded it.” She paused a moment, “I’m sure they’re doing it for PR reasons, too. But you could show up, talk to people.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “It’ll only look worse if you keep avoiding it,” Akira said.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, “you’re right. I should probably go.”

  “Can I ask you about something?” Akira said.

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  “You said back in the hospital that you can’t give up,” Akira said, “that because you live forever you’ll eventually have to do something.”

  “Yeah…”

  “Is that really how you feel about all this?” Akira asked.

  I shook my head slowly, “I don’t know that it’s how I feel about it, but…that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

  “Do you think you’re telling yourself lies that’ll make the world a better place?”

  “That was just me getting frustrated with Sachi,” I said, “I didn’t really mean what I was saying there.”

  “You’ve been born in Japan before, haven’t you?” Akira asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re familiar with ikigai?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s that feeling,” she said, “that thing inside you that makes you keep going. Do you…do you still have that? Is that even possible for someone who can’t not keep going?”

  “Did you turn your brain implants off again?”

  She laughed, “no. I’m not getting depressed again. Just…introspective. Maybe I’m getting old. But leaving with Masaru has given me time to think about why I’ve been doing this. To think about my ikigai. The reason I still feel like I need to do this…even to the point of lying to him. And after this meeting with Sachi, I’ve just wondered if my ikigai is built on lies I keep telling myself.”

  She sat quiet a moment, watching out the windshield, before continuing. “Back in Japan I saw myself like some kind of hero, single handedly taking down the Shinti family. The things they did…that they had me do. Fighting against that was my ikigai. After Shirou’s virus, Masaru and I left with Sachi. She never provided an ideology or anything, but she did make me think that I could make the world a better place. That gave me my ikigai. It gave me the same feeling I got when I thought I was fighting the Yakuza, but better.” She looked to me. “Was she just giving me an ikigai…a lie that she knew I wanted to believe?”

  “Do you think it was a lie?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the problem. I still want it to be true so bad, I can’t really trust myself to assess it.” She closed her eyes, sinking back into the seat. “I don’t even know what a better world looks like. What does it look like for you?”

  “I don’t know what a better world looks like,” I said, “but I know what it doesn’t look like.”

  “Sachi isn’t the only one who tells me lies I want to hear,” Akira said, eyes still closed, head leaning back, “I know what a better world looks like for you.”

  I said nothing.

  Akira opened her eyes, turning to look at me. “For you, a better world is one where you aren’t alone anymore.”

>   “You think Masaru’s right,” I said, “about my motivation for giving immortality to the world?”

  “Do you think he’s wrong?” Akira asked, “you are human, Eshe. Humans have human motivations. Like Sachi and Jiang Wei wanting power. Wanting people to follow them. So, yeah, I think Masaru’s right, in a way. I mean, I don’t think what you’re doing is completely cynical, but you don’t want to be alone anymore, do you?”

  I turned away, looking out the window.“So, what are you doing here?” I asked, “if you think it’s all lies and my motives are selfish, why did you want to come along and meet with Sachi?”

  “I…wanted to know about this compound,” she said, “and find out more about the-”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, looking back to her, “but why? Why do you want to figure out how reincarnation works and give it to the world? Do you want to live forever?”

  “I…curiosity?”

  “You wanted to satisfy your curiosity,” I said, “is that less selfish than not wanting to be alone anymore?”

  “Well…curiosity isn’t my ikigai,” Akira said, “but it’s what keeps me going from day to day. The whole ‘making the world a better place’ is a lofty goal, but it doesn’t help from day to day. As far as whether I want to live forever…I don’t want to die. But I don’t want what you have. Or even what Laura has.”

  “You’d rather make yourself into some kind of computer or something.”

  She gave me a weak smile. “I think Masaru finds that even more reprehensible than giving everyone reincarnation.”

  “Masaru doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” I asked.

  “It’s not like I’m in danger,” Akira said, “he just doesn’t understand.”

  “He doesn’t, does he?”

  “I knew he had some conservative ideas about technology,” Akira said, “but I think when I had the brain implants installed…that really pushed him over the edge on his whole Shinto idea of ‘natural is good’ thing.”

  “He still has resentment about that, doesn’t he?”

  Which is why he had your brain implants disabled when we first arrived in the LoC.

  “Yes…I think he suspects that I used them to get myself out of my depression. He’s acting strange.”

  “I suspect you haven’t told him about the upgrades, either, have you?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t imagine what he’d do if I did.”

  “Have you ever told him what actually happened to his parents?”

  Her eyes widened. “Do…do you know what actually happened?”

  “Back in Japan,” I said, “I snuck onto Shirou’s computer and saw his file on you. On Teru. And what you were involved in working for the Yakuza.”

  Akira strained to conceal her panic.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, “I’m not going to say anything to him. Besides, I’ve done much worse in past lives.”

  “I…if he…am-am I a terrible person?” she asked, “for keeping all these secrets from him?”

  “It’s like you said, he wouldn’t understand.”

  She opened her mouth, searching for something to say, but came up empty.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” I said, “I love Masaru. He’s a great person and a good friend, but…I don’t think he was ever really cut out for all this. It’s not his ikigai. He always seemed a bit in over his head.”

  “He’s helped a lot, hasn’t he?”

  “Of course,” I said, “I’m not saying he hasn’t. But he never needed to do this the way you do. He only came along because of you. And look where that’s got him.”

  “I…what are you trying to say?”

  I shrugged. “I just wouldn’t feel too guilty about doing what you need to do to fulfill your ikigai. Even if it means having to…keep Masaru comfortable.”

  “To keep lying to him, you mean?”

  “It’s not the only deception used in our line of work.”

  “Yeah, but…I love Masaru.”

  “If Masaru keeps you from doing what you need to do,” I said, “you’ll stop loving him.”

  “That’s…I’ve been thinking the same thing,” she said, “because I have felt myself start to…to resent him. For making me choose him and my daughter over my…over our work.” She paused a moment, looking out the window. Even in her internal struggle, I could see a glimmer of relief. She was admitting the thoughts she was afraid to admit. Finally, she looked back to me. “Do you think he’ll ever understand?”

  “He’s going to have to,” I said, “because he’s wrong. About human nature. And you agree with me. That’s your ikigai. Curiosity helps you from day to day, but you know as well as I do that human nature needs to change if we want the world to be a better place.”

  “Yes…” She took a deep breath. “Since my time working against the Yakuza, I’ve told myself I could make a difference if I just convince people. Convince them about the…the evil they’re doing. Help the right people. Put the right people in the right places and everything will come together. But you and Sachi are right. Every ideology anyone ever believed in is…it’s all lies.” She sighed. “On some level, I thought just like Masaru. That there was some innate goodness in people. Some overarching ikigai to humanity itself. Some good that could blossom if we just cultivated it. At the time I had to believe that because I needed to believe it about myself. But after all I’ve been through since meeting you…cruelty and pettiness are human nature. And that’s the common denominator in all this. Human nature. We can’t just…I mean, if we want a better world, humans have to…”

  “Human nature has to change,” I said, “in order to redirect their ikigai. Or they will just continue causing their own suffering.”

  “Yes…” Akira said, “that’s the hard truth. The hard truth I knew but haven’t wanted to admit.” She forced a smile. “But…I think I’m feeling better about it now. Knowing we can fix this…fix human nature…it means that everything isn’t hopeless.”

  “I’m glad to have you on board,” I said, hoping we both weren’t just trading one lie for another.

  Perhaps the lie, I thought, is that humankind is worth saving at all.

  The hospital room sat quiet, only the murmurs of staff in the hallway coming in. All I could motivate myself to do was stare at the ceiling. Being awake meant having to think about what I’ve done. What I still had to do. But being asleep meant that the bastardized images of my hallucination would attempt to encroach on my sanity.

  The conversation I had with Akira on the way back kept playing out in my mind. It felt like it wasn’t me that was talking to her. I was a spectator. Someone else was controlling me. Like…

  …like my right hemisphere?

  Yet it made sense. What I said was the right thing to say. Akira had to keep working with me, whether Masaru wanted it or not.

  In fact, Akira would probably be better off leaving Masaru. He’s holding her back.

  That was the truth I hadn’t been able to admit to myself. Masaru was a good person and a good friend. But more important things than friendship were at stake, and Akira was an important part of that.

  You could get Masaru to leave her, Evita said, just tell him about her implant upgrades. About her involvement in getting his parents murdered. Tell Akira that Masaru told the doctors to tamper with her implants.

  “I…can’t do that,” I whispered aloud.

  You’re afraid of hurting them? Evita asked. Chances are they’ll both find out one way or another.

  “Why am I even thinking this? Am I losing my mind?”

  No, Evita said, in fact, you’re doing the opposite. You’re becoming two minds.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, but nothing could slow the racing thoughts. I was still afraid to admit that Masaru was only holding things back. Why I felt such loyalty to a mortal who was-

  “Eshe?” a voice startled me.

  “Yes?” I said, looking to the nurse in the doorway.

  “She’s in the waiting room,”
the nurse said, “the operation finished five hours ago, but you weren’t here.”

  “How…how did it go?”

  “It was a success,” she said, “in fact, it ended up being a blessing in disguise. The doctor found an embolism about to break loose near her damaged liver. They were able to remove it.”

  I nodded, closing my eyes, “Is she still unresponsive?”

  “Yes,” the nurse said, “but she’s been moved back to her room now if you want to go see her.”

  “Thanks,” I said, hearing the nurse turn and walk away.

  I pulled myself out of bed, injuries re-inflamed from the exertion of my trip to Sachi’s compound. But it was nice to have another distraction again. Laura had become my primary distraction after Wichita.

  Perhaps you hope she stays this way, Evita said, you can continue pining without actually having to have a real relationship. This’ll temporarily appease your loneliness without you actually having to act like a human being.

  I ignored these thoughts as I made my way through the familiar halls of the hospital. When I got to Laura’s room, she had her eyes open, but remained unaware. The blank searching stare was no longer present, her gaze frozen on the ceiling in front of her. The burns on her face were healing slowly but steadily with the continued application of ointment, her hair now a stubble that still didn’t quite conceal the scars on her scalp. The bandages over the stump of her right shoulder were not as thick anymore, the wound healing.

  I pulled up a chair and sat down next to Laura, letting out a sigh. I reached over and grabbed her left hand, the inexplicably uninjured skin dull pale, the contrast striking as I held it between my dark black hands.

  “I finally met with Sachi,” I said aloud, “and it made me realize something. I…don’t feel anything for her. I mean, I do…in a way. There’s…still that sense of belonging. But I didn’t feel anything like love.” I shook my head, chuckling, “I spent fourteen years searching for her, but I was in love with the idea I had of her in my head, not with the reality of her. We’re different mental species. Our paths through history have turned us into very different people. Hell, for all I know, I’d actually be more compatible with Imelda.”