“In exchange for what?”
“Well…for you,” she said, looking back to me.
I just stared at her but said nothing.
“You are a very valuable asset to a lot of people,” Kali said, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward, getting close. She spoke softly, “given your…reincarnation.”
“How do you know?”
“That’s a very long story,” she smiled weakly, all its well-rehearsed charm gone, “unfortunately, your time is very limited. I’m afraid that ghastly material Benecorp put into your brain is very quickly deteriorating. Perhaps we should go for a walk?”
I was about to respond, but Kali called in two orderlies. She stayed seated as they brought a wheelchair and helped lower me into it. I gave in, allowing them to move me. Kali stood up and thanked them. When the orderlies left, she grabbed the handles on back of the wheelchair and pushed me out into the hallway.
“Here,” Kali said, reaching her hand around my shoulder.
I raised my good arm. She dropped a few pieces of tech into my palm. An AR contact, two earpieces, and a neckpiece.
“What do I need this for?”
“To get around in the PRA,” she said, “these are PRA diplomat issued. Mandatory.”
“Spying?”
“Almost certainly,” she said, “tracking your movements, recording any communications.”
“They’re going to listen in on everything?”
“Not with these particular ones,” Kali said, “I was able to get a special clearance. Now put them in.”
I was about to ask how she got special clearance, but she began pushing my chair down the hallway. spoke before I got the chance. I said nothing, putting my tech in as Kali wheeled my chair along. After getting the AR contact into my remaining eye, I watched as orderlies and nurses walked to-and-fro by us, their expressions as if they didn’t even see us. I spotted cameras all over, monitoring the hospital’s activity.
We passed by two large paintings in the waiting room. One of them showed Marianne Worth, a heavyset, middle-aged black woman with short hair and a neutral expression. The other showed Darryl Gibson, a fat, middle-aged black man with buzzed hair and a stern expression.
We passed into another wing of the hospital, turning left. I glanced at the directions on the wall. Left went to conference rooms. Right went to something called Gender Equality and Justice Division.
“Where exactly are you taking-” I didn’t have time to probe further as Kali steered me into a conference room. “What is this? Why did you bring me here?”
Anita Patrice stood up from the chair at the other end of the table, setting down a glass of bourbon. “Don’t be too angry with Kali,” she said, “she is just returning a favor.”
The Enduracorp CEO looked very much as she had thirty years earlier, though with the addition of more weight. She appeared to be no older than thirty even though she had to be around sixty. The dark gray pantsuit she wore hung easily over her plump frame. Her brown skin was still smooth and youthful, black hair pulled back into a bun, teeth straight and white. Her eyes betrayed her age, looking at me with grandmotherly patience.
“Enduracorp has been very helpful,” Kali explained, “with opposition to the GPFTA.” She paused a moment, looking unusually sheepish. “And with production and distribution of your chromosome treatment.”
I exhaled slowly, “you got the procedure from us. For Enduracorp.”
“Yes,” Anita Patrice said, “we’ve had a very productive relationship. And I think that the three of us have a mutual interest beyond opposition to the GPFTA that can be even more productive,” Patrice smiled, lifting the glass of bourbon to her mouth.
“I don’t understand,” I said, “are you trying to recruit me?”
“I doubt I’d have much success with that,” Patrice said, “I simply want you to listen to what I have to say. We have much to discuss.”
“Why should I trust you?” I said, glancing at Kali.
“At this point, I’m not expecting much trust,” Patrice said said, sipping from the brown liquor, “but I have come across something that might interest you.”
“What might that be?” I asked.
“A certain…asset, that is in PRA possession,” she said, “an asset that might be very important to all of us.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you about that?”
Patrice sighed, “I’m already putting myself out there on this. I’ve worked very hard to foster relations with the paranoid government of the PRA in order to obtain this kind of access. Some of my associates were against my coming to talk to you personally, but this is far too important.” she smiled, a strange mixture of youth and age in the expression. “And I figured you would enjoy seeing a familiar face.”
“You’re here for asset A.” I said.
“Yes,” Patrice sat back down, “I have access to the asset, but I cannot take her or any of her possessions out of the PRA and I am supposed to share any of our findings with the PRA Ministry of Intelligence.” She sighed lightly. “Unfortunately, the asset will not be…viable, for too much longer. And my understanding is that your own time is limited as well. That is why we had to move swiftly to get you here.”
“So, you kidnapped me,” I said.
“On the contrary,” Patrice said, taking another sip of her drink, “I negotiated your extradition with your peers while you were still wandering through the mountains.”
“You told them the PRA wouldn’t help unless they gave me up,” I said.
Anita Patrice said nothing, sipping the last bit of bourbon from her glass.
“What is it you need me for?” I sighed, looking down at my broken leg, defeated.
“I’ll tell you on the way,” she said, standing back up, “my car is waiting outside.”
“I imagine you knew Jiang Wei was like me,” I said after the orderlies had gotten me into the limousine.
Kali had taken her leave from us, having a plane to catch headed for Denver, leaving me alone with Anita Patrice. Both of them promised that I would be able to speak with my friends again once we were done here. But there was no way of knowing if I would even live that long. Kali was going to Denver to speak with Masaru and tell him what was going on with me, since there was no secure mesh network connection between most of the PRA and the LoC.
Anita Patrice sat in the seat across from me, facing my direction. The partition was up, leaving the driver obscured. Patrice poured herself a fresh glass of bourbon and handed another to me. I looked at the brown liquid, three ice cubes piled into it, and then looked back to where she sat across from me. She gave me a wry smile.
“I still don’t understand what I’m doing here,” I said.
“Do you know how Calvin Lind came to know about Jiang Wei’s reincarnation?” Patrice asked, looking out the window as the vehicle took off.
“His father,” I said, exhaling slowly.
“Say what you will about the forty-eights,” she smiled without looking at me, “you’ve always done your research.”
“What was the elder Lind’s relationship with him?” I asked.
“Jiang Wei, or Kadar ibn Affan as he was then, was a friend to the Saud family,” Patrice explained, taking a sip of her bourbon. “He helped Abdul Aziz ibn Saud consolidate his rein in 1932. He helped negotiate the discovery of oil in 1937 and the subsequent Saudi Arabian alliance with America in 1945. It was very soon after that he met a young, ambitious World War Two vet named Charles Lind. Calvin’s father. You see, the two became quick friends, making a lot of money together. I don’t know if Calvin is even sure when it may have come about that ibn Affan told his father about the reincarnation business, but Calvin had known about it since he was in college, being groomed to take the family business.”
“So, Charles wasn’t looking to become immortal himself?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Patrice shrugged, “I never knew Charles. He died of cancer before I got very far up in the hierarchy. I’ve read up on
him. He didn’t seem like an evil person, but of course that’s hard to tell when most of the accounts of him are curated by the Lind family.”
“But you think Calvin Lind is an evil person?” I asked.
Patrice laughed, sounding very old when she did. “That’s a long story.”
“What about Jiang Wei,” I said, “Imelda. What is she trying to do? What does she get out of all this?”
“What he, er, she actually wants,” Patrice said, “I couldn’t tell you. But I’m convinced he’s just using Lind.”
“For what?”
She shook her head, “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself. Ever since I found out about reincarnation. Maybe you can tell me, huh? You’re immortal, too. What might someone like you want?”
I took a deep breath, letting it out slow. The idea of each of us being very different passed through my mind. All three of us – Imelda, Sachi, and myself – have been alive for a very long time. Our minds may have diverged so far from each other that there is no possible way to bridge our understanding.
“You’re as far from each other as you are these mortals,” Evita whispered.
That’s not true, I thought, we all have that in common. Despite what Evita may think, we’re all human. We have human brains, evolved for human thoughts. Human motivations. A brain not meant for a world outside the hunter-gatherer nomads I lived as for so long.
“Power,” I said, “Imelda wants power. Just like Sachi. Because they’re all too human.”
“That’s what I figured,” Patrice said, “and it’s why I split off from Benecorp. I wasn’t going to be used as a pawn.”
“And Lind…” I said, “he wants to become immortal,” I looked up at Patrice, “and you do, too. Because the two of you are all too human as well. You want power.”
“Power is the only thing that matters,” she said, “but power can be wielded for good or evil.
“I don’t think you understand what this ‘immortality’ really means,” I said, looking into Anita Patrice’s strangely old eyes, “I’m trapped. There is no escape. It’s lonely and painful. You think a temporary life is meaningless? Imagine seeing everything you’ve ever believed in crumble under the weight of time, being replaced with something else that will only grow old and corrupted and then mercifully perish after slipping into irrelevance. All our human constructs – patriotism, loyalty, family, country, religion, philosophy – they all die. Time and death are my only companions. And they make for cold bedfellows.”
A smile had grown on Patrice’s face as I said this.
“That’s why I don’t want this just for myself,” she said, “I plan to wield power for good…by giving it to everyone. I will make all of humankind reincarnate when they die.” She took a drink from her glass. “Imagine if everyone – or, at least, a significant portion of the population – also had this ability. Imagine if ten billion people also had a vested interest in making the future a better place. Imagine if business owners knew they shouldn’t pollute the water, because in a hundred years, a thousand years, a million years, they would count on that water to drink. Imagine if the rich realized that at some point, they too would be born into poverty, famine, and disease. They would do everything they could to redistribute the wealth, to ensure everyone on earth had plenty to eat, and to eradicate disease. Every terrorist and megalomaniacal dictator would have to think twice – a million times! – about unleashing violence on people or creating an infrastructure that fosters suffering. Everyone would have a vested interest in being good stewards of the earth and creating a utopia.”
I sat silent for a moment before I burst out laughing. Anita Patrice tried to maintain her composure, but I could tell my response angered her. After a few moments my laughter devolved into a fit of coughing.
“I would have thought this would be the sort of out-of-the-box thinking you would admire,” Patrice said in a low voice.
“I’m not laughing because it’s ridiculous,” I said, still clearing my throat, “even if it is. I’m laughing because it was exactly what I had in mind. At least, I used to.”
She forced a smile. “What’s dissuaded you?”
“To put it bluntly,” I said, “you. Right now. You’re going to force people to be reincarnated because it’s what you want. And Sachi. The way she went to great lengths to lead those people through the mountains…all because she wanted to make herself the dictator of the LoC. And Imelda. She’s pursuing power through Benecorp. Experimenting on people. And myself. I’m no god or guardian or leader or whatever the fuck else. I only want a better future for myself. I only wanted to give people reincarnation so I wouldn’t be alone anymore. Being immortal has not made us better people. We’re still just greedy, self-centered, hopelessly flawed humans.”
“Who knows,” Patrice said, “maybe your misanthropy isn’t completely misguided. But what other option is there? Let the world continue its slow decline into madness and misery? Let the Imelda’s and Calvin Lind’s of the world run everything? Besides, your greedy, self-centered, hopelessly flawed mind wants to know how reincarnation works as much as mine. More, I’m guessing. And right now may be our only chance of figuring it out before Benecorp does it first, which I know for a fact you do not want to let happen. That’s why you’re going to help me, even if you disagree with my methods.”
“The asset…” I said, “she is a descendent of Jiang Wei. And you think she can help us figure it out.”
“Exactly,” Patrice said, “she is the granddaughter of Kadar ibn Affan and… Chiranjeevi Johnson.”
“Mya…ibn Affan was behind that?”
“No,” Patrice said, “but Charles Lind knew she was impregnated by you. It wasn’t until after they picked her and her remaining child up that they even knew she was forced.”
“Remaining child?”
“The girl,” Patrice said, “she had twins. Whoever forced her to get impregnated by you took the boy.”
“Why?” I said, “why only take one? And who was it?”
“I don’t know,” Patrice said, leaning forward toward the bar, “all this happened before my time. I only know what was in the files I had access to.” Instead of taking the bottle of bourbon, she grabbed a notebook, leaning forward and setting it on my lap.
“What is this?” I asked, looking down at the faded cover, a strange pattern etched into it. The edges were frayed, binding coming apart, spots of dried liquid warping the cover. It was quite old.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Patrice said.
I opened the cover, looking at the weathered pages. Symbols and equations were scrawled over every spare centimeter of each sheet. I flipped to the next and then the next, seeing the same sort of mathematical formulae on the front and back of every one.
“That is just one of the assets original notebooks,” Patrice said, “around the time you were living in Florida, this woman was a girl living in Detroit. She and another of Jiang Wei’s descendants – a son of his from his life between ibn Affan and Jiang Wei – had ‘found’ each other, and this is what they came up with. The key to giving everyone the gift of reincarnation, without having to do anymore human testing.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, “it’s just a bunch of math.”
“The math contained in that notebook,” Patrice said, “and quite a stack of others just like it, is the pattern.”
“The pattern?”
“These two kids, with brain chemistry different than any regular person, had an insight lost on any normal person,” Patrice said, “the mathematics they came up with were beyond anything anyone has ever done. Several years ago, while Marianne Worth was still chairman in the PRA, Benecorp was granted access to these notebooks. They had a team of mathematicians and physicists combing through them. Nobel Prize winners and geniuses from around the world. And they were all baffled and amazed at what was in these notebooks. Even now, only a small amount of it is understood by Benecorp’s people,” she smiled, “it was with these that the S
olberg-Morse interface was discovered.”
“And what? You want me to do your math homework for you?” I asked, closing the notebook and holding it up, “none of this means a goddamn thing to me.”
Patrice grinned, “No, the math isn’t for you. But we need you to speak with the asset.”
“Why?”
Patrice shrugged, “that goes beyond me. Jiang Wei told Lind that only someone reincarnated would be able to fully understand whatever insight the asset can give us. Someone like you needs to interpret it from her to us.”
“Why didn’t Jiang Wei just do it for you, then?” I asked.
“Benecorp had lost access to the asset. And then you killed Jiang Wei,” Patrice said, “we tried obtaining his reincarnation.”
“Imelda.”
“Yes. But we were unsuccessful. Your hacks and deep fakes in China have caused too much chaos. Nothing much can be done there at this point.”
“So now…you want me to translate this…code? For you?” I asked, looking back down at the ragged notebook.
“If this doesn’t work, we’ll be back to human experimentation,” Patrice shrugged, “and you are the key to this,” she smiled, “imagine, you will help humanity rein in an age where death and hatred no longer exists. A world where there is only empathy.”
“What if people don’t want to be reincarnated?” I asked, “what if they don’t want to live forever?”
“They won’t even know it happened to them,” Patrice said, “until after the first time they die.”
“Your whole reason for doing this is because humans have forced the world’s condition on each other,” I said, “won’t you just be forcing a different condition on them?”
“You think this is an issue of informed consent?” Patrice scoffed.
“Yes,” I said, “but it’s more than that. This isn’t some medical procedure that might make a person’s life more inconvenient. This is taking away someone’s right to…to not exist.”
Anita Patrice looked amused by this, “how can a person have a right to not exist if they can only exercise that right by being incapable of exercising any rights at all?”
Incarnate- Essence Page 109
