CHAPTER TEN
WHILE SITTING in the left rear seat of the limousine, Rose used her right hand to massage away the tenseness in her neck. The FDR was taking her around the eastern perimeter of Manhattan Island. She turned to her left, toward the borough of Queens, but before her eyes could look out over the East River, she caught her driver stealing a glance in his rear-view mirror.
Like most beautiful women, Rose had accustomed herself to such attention at too young an age. At first it was unsettling to see older boys, even men casting extended appraisals. She hadn’t yet been equipped to put that sort of attention into any sort of perspective, but as time went on she became more adept at dealing with inquiring eyes. Sometimes she stared them down, even embarrassed the onlooker with a contemptuous, startling expression. A young Roshnie often found herself looking to her maternal reflection for reassurance. Such is the fate, my child, her mother empathized, of one so outwardly blessed.
With an inner zeal to define oneself by things less physical, Rose eventually earned her place within the family business, having achieved her Masters in Biosciences from India’s Institute of Technology. After accomplishing what few women in her extended family had experienced thus far, she also acquiesced to the fact that beauty does not come without its perks. Indeed, she could have any man she wanted. Wealth was equally surmountable. For Rose, though, meaningful love remained elusive. Although she was the progeny of a prearranged marriage, her mother insisted her daughter would not be promised to a predetermined future.
Nevertheless, a small number of relationships, save for one, went unfulfilled. The pedestal Rose sometimes found herself on was frequently unrewarding, almost dehumanizing. She therefore found few aspects of the past worth reliving, even worthy of reflection. So with her drive transitioning from the old country back to the new, the elevated FDR Highway offered up the only calming influence at its disposal: The East River. It helped her think of things similar in nature, of Simon, and how he treated her. She could feel herself wanting to spend more time with him. She longed for that type of love, that contentment, and realized only too poignantly that she wanted to experience it again, soon.
“Damn!” her driver muttered.
Rose leaned forward. Her driver was obviously annoyed. Rose thought to inquire, but an inquisitive glance was enough to garner a response.
“The self-drivers are all getting off at the 23rd,” her chauffeur offered.
Rose looked ahead and noticed they were the only car that passed the 23rd Street exit. She glanced out the rear window and noticed all of the self-driven cars slowing before dutifully filing off the FDR. An accident ahead must have caused them to choose an alternate, unobstructed route.
“Sorry, Ma’am, but my on-board nav (navigation) updates are never as quick as theirs.”
It took only milliseconds for New York’s Traffic Management
System to realize a bottleneck of sorts was occurring further up the highway. Rose’s driver knew only autonomous vehicles were allowed to pull off to the right and then, when the way was clear, backup on the shoulder of a redirected highway. Self-drivers were courteous to a fault, much more than their human counterparts, and always allowed other vehicles to safely merge into moving traffic. Those past the point of no return, so to speak, would have to continue on and suffer through any impending annoyance.
Once again, Rose caught the eye of her driver in his rear-view mirror. “I hope you don’t mind being delayed?” he asked.
“That’s alright,” she said, sitting back in her seat. “I’m in no hurry to make this appointment.”
If Rose lamented the fact that she had become the victim of less proficient technology, it wasn’t for a lack of embracing it. Rose frequently utilized the UN’s pool of electric autonomous vehicles. AVs, as they were called, were everywhere now. The automobile, like many of its industrialized counterparts, had finally reached the fourth and final phase of its existence. It had become ubiquitous.
Driverless vehicles came with the added perk of cheaper licensing. Lower insurance rates also reflected the single most prevalent factor involved in most collisions, human error.
In addition, like many other major cities of the world, traditional automobiles were shunned within the downtown core. In fact, many people were now purchasing access to AV’s much in the same way they bought bandwidth for their electronic devices. It could be said, the Island of Manhattan was becoming synonymous with autonomous driving.
Rose’s corporate car, on the other hand, was something of a throwback to times less restrained. Prav Gill’s newly acquired corporation, Gen Tech Laboratories, had built its reputation on the un-manned drone and therefore embraced autonomous or remotely piloted vehicles long ago. But Rose knew her brother had a preference for things more discriminating and culturally refined. It made her smile knowing that the technological resources at her brother’s disposal were being made ineffectual by the most powerful entity on any roadway ˗ the traffic control robot wielding the Stop and Slow sign.
Both driver and passenger couldn’t mistake the unique smell of
asphalt. It wasn’t an old-fashioned highway ‘accident’ after all. It was another demonstration of crumbling infrastructure; an emergency road repair was underway. The constant electronic ‘hand-shaking’ between Traffic Management and autonomous vehicles provided AVs with an advantage over commercially available navigation systems. It was painfully obvious to Rose’s driver that they always seemed one-step ahead.
With all lanes now diverted into one, Rose’s limousine had to wait until the Stop sign was turned to Slow and the self-driven cars were allowed to pass through the construction zone first. “Would you like a refreshment of any kind, Ma’am?” her driver asked.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Rose replied.
She opened her purse in order to pull out a mid-sized tablet. With password inserted, she decided to review the file she had sent Simon earlier in the day. It was a first draft tutorial meant to bring interested UN staff and delegates up to speed on the latest developments in retail genetics. The field of epigenetics had been around for some time, but in recent years it had been expanding at an exponential rate. Rose had just been asked to be part of an IBC (International Bioethics Committee) task force charged with designing a framework of guidelines for the rapidly expanding sector.
She scrolled through a draft presentation for the initial working group and then switched over to a series of correspondences. ‘In the interests of full disclosure,’ she informed Simon, during one series of texts, ‘I’ll have to let my superior know I’m in a relationship with one of the key players in the industry.’ Rose remembered holding her breath, hoping Simon’s reply would confirm what she felt was her ‘relationship status.’
After a short pause, Simon offered the reply Rose was looking for. ‘I think that would be wise. I wouldn’t want to undermine your credibility.’
Rose smiled, breathing again. ‘Your reputation would only add to the report’s stature. Besides, it’s only a working group for now.’
If it were a full-blown committee, they agreed, that might be another story. Detractors aside, most in the industry agreed PurIntel had an impeccable reputation for leading the genetic world in a sustainable, ethical direction.
Rose allowed herself to relax back into her comfortable leather seat. A subtle sigh testified to the fact that she had already spent a lot of time on the file. She closed her presentation, her tablet, and then her eyes. Just then the driver of the limo offered: “It won’t be long now, Ma’am.” The traffic-bot was finally allowing them through.
Although Rose’s thoughts were soon redirected as well, to her meeting with her brother, she found herself reluctant to divert her concentration from Simon entirely. If only they could go for that drink right now. With a range of emotions accompanying the rest of her journey, she felt herself being transported to a distant memory from a lifetime ago. It was her very first relationship, one that offered some perspective on why it had ta
ken her so long to find only the second man she truly loved.
As her limousine drove on, Rose touched the necklace descending from her neck. It felt as if her father was clasping it behind her for the first time.
Rose remembered turning sixteen. The family party was wonderful; almost everyone she loved was there. Her mother always made sure her birthdays were special.
The occasion was everything a young girl could ask for, but if anything was missing, it was a gift promised earlier in the day. It would be presented to her later, at a time when she was alone.
Night had descended, the celebration having concluded some time ago. Rose opened her second floor bedroom window, giving access to more than the sultry summer breeze. The family estate represented an expanse of some acreage, its historic residence so grand it testified to a lineage almost royal. The bedroom wing was a complexity of rooftop a-frames, turrets, and dormers, easily navigated, however, by one whose dexterity was enhanced by an ageless emotion.
Rose helped her young lover through the opened window, stumbling, laughing, wanting to hug him before he was entirely through. He was so lovely, she felt. She couldn’t help desiring his shirtless, light coloured skin. He was two years older than Rose, the grandson of their nearly retired head grounds-keeper. When she stepped back, Sajan pulled his own gift from his pocket. Knowing it would be something hand-made, possibly another necklace, she had removed the one her parents had previously gifted. Rose felt the warmth of Sajan’s breath in her hair, as he fastened his offering from behind. Suddenly, a knock was heard at the door, startling them both.
“Quick, hide in my dressing room,” Rose whispered, almost too loudly.
The scuffle of feet was detectable from outside her bedroom. Rose opened the door, slowly. She feared it would be her mother, but worse ˗ it was Praveen.
“What do you want?” she asked, forcefully.
Her brother pushed his way in, half-knowing what was most likely taking place. He had been aware of the budding relationship for some time. When Rose turned to physically prevent him from entering the room any further, she didn’t notice her brother catch a glimpse of the newly adorned necklace.
Prav stopped in the middle of the room, acting like a sibling many years his senior. “You’re alone are you?”
Rose stood several paces away. “Of course I am.” By now Rose was so incensed by her brother’s intrusion that she forgot about her young lover’s gift.
“I thought I heard voices,” Prav said, trying not to glance at the incriminating necklace.
“What gives you the right …” Rose blurted.
“Alright, alright,” Prav acquiesced, before retreating to the door. “But don’t come to me when you need someone to pull him off you.”
“Get out, you bastard!” she blasted.
Prav stopped at the door and turned toward Rose. His aloof demeanour was not lost on his simmering sister. In a purposeful delaying tactic, he opened his mouth to say something, knowing Rose would beat him to the punch.
“Out!” she growled.
In the time it took for Prav to let his head droop acrimoniously, he devilishly slipped something into the slot into which Rose’s bedroom door would have to latch. He offered one more inflammatory smile before closing the door behind him. He knew his sister would rush over and latch the doorknob, giving her the misperception she was locking the door. He held the door closed from the outside so as to not let it drift open on its own. His plan had obviously been in the works for some time, as he used his own door locking mechanism to fabricate the small block of wood required to defeat his sister’s. Prav drifted down the hall with ulterior intentions.
It took some time for Sajan to ease the contempt out of Rose, but as her consoler persisted with caressing hands, so was her annoyance assuaged by a mutual desire to embrace one another. Rose fell back onto the bed where they were sitting. Their love for each other was made all the more compelling by its daring nature. Rose knew her father would furiously disapprove, but that didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered,
except for Sajan.
Soon their half-clothed bodies felt the passion of the other. Sajan was on top; his skin bringing Rose’s alive in turn. It seemed so fitting, so innocent to make love to one you so helplessly adored. Rose gave herself over to Sajan, willingly, lovingly. The notion he would be her first sexual encounter barely tempered her desire. But before the moment could be sealed for eternity, Rose’s eyes were defocused from her lover and were drawn to her bedroom door. It was opening, and someone was walking in. It was Prav. He stood motionless; his stature bore an accuser’s demeanour.
Sajan grabbed for a blanket to cover himself and Rose. With a sinister grin, Prav pulled a camera.
“No!” Rose screamed. Before she could cover her face, the flash went off. Prav chuckled at the photo’s poignant expressions; the accompanying date sealing the moment for all time. He took one look at Sajan then his sister, before walking out of the room in triumph.
Whether it was out of spite or simple jealousy, Prav had something to hold over his sister for time immemorial. A threatening narrative to the photo was uttered the next day. If she wanted to avoid the shame, the fury of her parents’ accusations, she would have to never see Sajan again.
Prav eventually convinced his father that Sajan’s intellect was wasting away among their estate’s flora. The young gardener-apprentice was soon sent off to an exclusive private school with his grandfather’s full endorsement, the budding botanist’s tuition being as much an investment as it was an unexpected reward for a lifetime of loyal service to the Gill family. Rose was heartbroken.
She would ruminate for years to come on how that one event became the foundation for future relationships. In the months ahead, Rose felt powerless to get out from under her brother’s thumb. She eventually did, though. In the same way every cornered animal resigns itself to an inevitable outcome, so did Rose find a resolve in her contempt for Prav’s self-righteous morality.
When she discovered how easily, how willingly men would accomplice themselves to her impulsive, vengeful plan, she set out to embarrass her brother into submission. Rose decided to turn the tables on Prav by having sex with whomever she pleased. Worse still, she engaged in the carnal compulsion with little concern for being caught in the act. The more daring the better, Rose initially thought. But revenge soon gave way to something darker. It was strangely empowering to be the exclusive barterer to severances of her own soul.
With the fear of his own friends being likewise conquered, Prav soon pleaded for his sister to stop, to put an end to it before their parents’ worst fears were confirmed. Acquiescing was difficult for Rose. An exciting intoxicant had become a potent drug.
Mealtime conversations were sparse and infrequent. The fear of something being said muted many exchanges. Frustrated by the lack of pleasantries, Rose’s father was left to wonder if he would eventually be served the rumours and whispers that drifted among his household staff. He would shake his head in silence, resenting the nuances of the unspoken familial contract, the terms of which he was too often the last to know. Her mother’s eyes testified to her own suspicions, while darting from son to daughter.
Rose dangled the non-encrypted secret over her brother’s head as if she enjoyed the torment it inflicted. Prav would often leave the table early fearing indiscriminate words might be easily spilled. But as much as Rose felt she had won every battle of the demeaning campaign, she believed in her heart that the war could never be won, that she had lost the desire to put the consummation of love into its proper context. She knew she would always answer for that, but she was still young, and it was convenient to defer things to the future. In the short term, however, it was easier to blame her brother.
As the years passed, Rose fought, sometimes in vain, to put the episode behind her. She became devoted to remaining uncommitted, forever single, and went on to assume her place within the family organization. Notwithstanding the fact that words on the subj
ect were never spoken, it eventually appeared to both siblings that Prav was the victor after all. The minor scars he experienced soon healed. The realization that most of hers were self-inflicted was a difficult pill for Rose to swallow, one whose bitterness would linger to this day.
As Rose’s limousine finally came to a stop, she smiled, realizing the memory was the perfect pretext to entertain a peace offering from her brother. When the limousine door opened, she stepped out a confident, determined woman. She knew in her heart Simon was lucky to have her, and that she was blessed to have him. They were, she truly believed, as well matched as her first love. And it was going to stay that way regardless of any devious plan her brother could devise.
Rose looked upward and saw Simon’s corporate headquarters; the impressive Freedom Tower at One World Trade Centre loomed high above her. She imagined him looking down at her. The nearby North Cove Yacht Harbor would undoubtedly seem small from his perspective. For Rose, though, at one-hundred-and-sixty-five feet in length, her brother’s mega-yacht appeared anything but modest. Its exterior was a gold-pewter composite, one that definitely exhibited a militaristic aura.
He’s so predictable, Rose thought, subtly shaking her head.
The stunning cruiser, Auspicious, dwarfed everything adjacent. A complicated array of communication and surveillance equipment topped its impressive, naval stature.
“If you’ll follow me, Ma’am,” the driver said, “Mr. Gill is waiting for you in the mid-deck lounge.”
Rose nodded, as if to lead on.
SOPHIA - Age of Intelligence Page 10
