Reintegration

by Eden S. French

  Valerie took a hurried sip of water. “I think so, yes. By the way, I was wondering…well, my predecessor. Would it be possible for me to meet him? To exchange notes?”

  “I’m afraid your predecessor’s career came to an abrupt end. It was thirty years ago, and several members of the Committee at that time were prone to overreacting.” Lachlan shrugged. “You know how it is.”

  The dinner table fell silent. Gaspar and Kaori picked through their meals, while Lachlan continued to subject the trembling Valerie to that repugnant smile of his. It was shameful to know the threat of murder and retribution hung over her family’s dinner table, and Mineko laid down her fork and knife with a sudden clatter that turned every head toward her.

  “Dr. Wren,” she said. “Valerie. You seem very pale. Would you like me to show you around the back garden? There should be a little light left.”

  “Yes, that would be…” Valerie’s voice shook as she set down her cutlery. “That would be very kind, Mineko, yes. Um, I just… I’ll just drink this water first.” Her face averted from the others, she finished her glass and sighed. “If we may be excused…”

  “Of course,” said Gaspar. “We’ll postpone dessert a little so that you don’t miss out. It’ll be very good. Some kind of cake, I think.”

  Lachlan continued to smile at Valerie as she fumbled with her napkin and rose to her feet. “I hope the fresh air revives you, doctor. You look a little pale.” He glanced at Mineko. It was impossible to read whatever message gleamed in his eyes. “As do you, Mineko.”

  Mineko matched his stare until he looked away. “I’m ready,” said Valerie. “Which way?”

  * * *

  In the evening gloom, the back garden seemed a sinister gathering of strange silhouettes. Nocturnal sounds filled the air: the croaking conversation of frogs, an insect whine and, in the distance, running water.

  Valerie stood within a wedge of interior light and stared at the first pinpricks in the night sky. Mineko waited, tasting with each breath the crispness of the air. Though Mineko knew nothing about her new companion, it was a relief to finally be free of the tension of the dining room.

  “Thank you for taking me outside.” Valerie’s twitching seemed to have subsided. “I wasn’t feeling very well, as you noticed. I ate too quickly.”

  “I’m sorry Lachlan frightened you. He’s a fixture around here. They joke that I should call him Uncle Lachlan, but I don’t see the funny side.”

  “I think it was just… I think I must have misunderstood what he meant.” Valerie held an electronic cigarette to her lips, and its blue glow tinted the shadows. “Do you mind me asking what it is you study?”

  Was she genuinely interested, or just making small talk? “My major is Neuroethics.”

  “Oh, how exciting, what a wonderful choice. Of course, I’m a neuroscientist, so I would think that. What led you to choose it?”

  “When I was seven, my tutor was wiped. He’d been inventing his own stories to entertain me instead of telling ones approved by Education. Another of the house staff overhead him. Because of who I am, they gave him the maximum punishment.” Mineko stared at the tip of Valerie’s cigarette as it faded to black. “When I next saw him, he didn’t know who I was,” she said. “I begged for a story, and he gave me a blank look. ‘I don’t know any stories,’ he said.”

  Valerie inclined her face into the darkness, concealing her expression. “You think what they did to him was wrong.”

  There was a hint of sympathy in her voice, and Mineko was tired of lying. “I know it. The Committee once knew it. And even though they’re teaching us now that it’s right, I still know the truth.”

  “You’re a very brave girl.” Valerie’s voice was soft and distant, almost a whisper. “You aren’t alone, you know. According to the few notes I inherited, my predecessor ended Project Sky because he believed it was unethical. The test subjects kept dying, you see. They were all volunteers, but still he thought…all those young men and women, those promising lives, what was the point?”

  “Why were they dying?”

  “The implant simply seemed to, um, I guess…overload the nervous system, I suppose you’d say. Some survived with severe brain damage, but most just…” Valerie gave an uncertain laugh. “Certainly the invention is exciting. Imagine being able to read, even manipulate, thoughts, emotions, and memories. But the cost has been terrible.”

  “Can’t we do that already? Read memories?”

  “No, not quite. There isn’t a computer yet invented that can encode such information for our viewing. But there is one device in nature that has that function built-in.” Valerie tapped her temple. “Project Sky was supposed to transmit data from one brain to another. Not as a digital representation of consciousness, but as an experiential one. One that we could understand on our intuitive human terms.”

  This was headache-inducing stuff. “How could you possibly transmit from one brain to another?”

  “Neural activity is accompanied by a kind of short-distance radiation, which exists on a spectrum we weren’t able to detect until recently. Its behavior is still unknown to us, very much a question for the physicists, but it does offer a suggestive basis for the many anecdotal tales of interaction between minds.” Valerie chuckled as she drew on her cigarette again. “It was a very controversial discovery, that one. They had to rewrite a few things, and the parapsychologists gloated for years.”

  “But if what you’re saying is true, Project Sky didn’t actually work. Not in our experiments.”

  “Perhaps it did.” As Valerie warmed to her subject, she accompanied her words with enthusiastic gestures. “Perhaps that’s why the subjects died—their brain couldn’t handle their new faculty. Or perhaps we had it all wrong from the beginning. We can’t know, because no one survived or remained lucid to describe what had happened to them. All the records show is that their neurons lit up in a brilliant display, and then…nothing.”

  As horrifying as it sounded, Mineko couldn’t afford to betray too much emotion. She made an appropriately thoughtful sound. “I see. But this woman from the districts, she has a working implant?”

  “Yes, it’s incredible. I don’t know, um, what you know…I mean, I don’t know what’s appropriate, but, uh…” Valerie hesitated, perhaps struck by the realization she was talking to a mere student.

  “It’s fine. My parents like me to be informed. Why else would they talk around me at dinner?”

  Valerie’s tongue darted across her lips, and she gave a quick nod. “Of course. Yes, today we saw proof that her implant is working. To some extent, anyway. At the very least, in its most destructive capacity.”

  Perhaps now the conversation was getting somewhere productive. “Why do you think that is?”

  “An obvious theory presents itself. We only tested on people who grew up here.” Valerie indicated the garden walls. “The Codist movement is five generations old. Thanks to our wealth and isolation, we’ve enjoyed superior conditions—fresh food, access to medicine, protection from radiation and heavy metals. The gene pool is different, the environment is different…”

  It was clear where this was going, but it seemed wiser to play dumb. “Why does that matter?”

  “Foundation’s greater population may contain mutations and variations that simply aren’t represented among us. This Alexis may have a genetic feature we lack. Or she may lack one that we have and which prevents the aug from working.” Valerie frowned. “Of course, there are rumors the operation was tried several times in the districts without success, so whatever this distinctive quality is, it’s not necessarily widespread.”

  In other words, Lexi might be a mutant. Mineko couldn’t wait to break the good news. “Are they very different to us, the people outside?”

  “Bless you, no. They’re Homo sapiens in all their diversity. I mean, uh…ethically speaking, of course, they’re tremendously different.” Valerie took a quick glance over her shoulder. “But biologically, they’re us. Even if an
other hundred generations passed and they became mutated beyond recognition, they would still be human. A species can accommodate many variations.”

  It was hard not to like this gawky scientist with her tremulous voice and agitated mannerisms. Harder still to believe she was the one who might become responsible for the end of all free thought.

  Mineko took a cautious breath and arranged her words carefully. “As a neuroethicist, I’m interested in the idea of a person reading another’s thoughts. It seems problematic to me.”

  “Well, some would say so, certainly. But it could also ensure greater safety, and, uh…” Valerie lowered her eyes. “Uniformity. Which, as you know, is what we all aspire to.”

  “But a species can accommodate many variations. You just said so.”

  There was a long silence. Mineko’s heart thumped painfully against her ribs. Had she been too audacious?

  Valerie touched the cigarette to her lips again, and the blue light flared. “I’m afraid they’ll kill me. Or wipe me. My only chance is to find this woman and study her, and what if she’s a freak and we have no way of repeating the miracle?” She moved the cigarette away and sighed. “When I applied for this position, they asked if I had family or close friends. I said no, and seeing the satisfaction on their faces, I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. But it was already too late.”

  Mineko remained quiet. How could she wish Valerie luck when she hoped so fervently that Project Sky would fail?

  If only life were as simple as the horror movie in Zeke’s lounge. When hideous monsters were pitted against a good, resilient humankind, the sides were clear. But in this world, the enemy was her own family, and she herself wore the uniform of oppression.

  “Let’s go back inside,” she said. “We’ll miss dessert.”

  Valerie nodded, but neither of them moved. Instead they gazed into the shadows, both silent, as night consumed the last of the day.

  CHAPTER 7

  Lexi opened her eyes. A cement ceiling, springs jabbing her through an unfamiliar mattress, thin sheets drawn over her body…

  Oh, yeah. Now she remembered.

  Pulling off the sheets, which seemed for several frantic seconds to be fighting back, she escaped the bed and stretched her limbs. Another night on that mattress, and there wouldn’t be an unknotted muscle in her body.

  Callie lay sprawled on the opposite bunk, her tangled sheets tossed away from her body. She’d slept in nothing but her tank top and panties, yet sweat beaded her bare skin. Strange. It hadn’t been a warm night.

  Lexi watched her, guilt stirring. In sleep, Callie looked cherubic, her lips parted and her long lashes fluttering. Was it possible Lexi had been too hard on her? The kid hadn’t really done anything wrong.

  Well, no time to worry about that now.

  Lexi picked up her crumpled shirt and sniffed it. Not terrible. Not great either. She dressed as quietly as she could, slipped on her boots, left the room and headed down the hall. If she remembered right, the kitchen wasn’t far away.

  As she walked, the grated floor clanked beneath her feet, and the rusted pipes around her produced disturbing thumps. As a place to live, this bunker didn’t really do anything for her, but as the set for a horror movie, it would be perfect. She could see it now, Nikolas and Amity as a pair of serial killers…

  She sauntered into the kitchen. Even at this hour, it was full of people cooking up soup. Seeing Riva’s pink mohawk in the crowd, Lexi grinned. No better way to start the day.

  With extra swagger, she crossed the room and leaned on Riva’s bench. “Tell me, how do you look this gorgeous first thing in the morning?”

  Riva smiled without looking up. “Hey, Lexi.”

  Lexi smiled back. Neither beautiful nor handsome did this woman justice—she inhabited that captivating world in-between. “You ever get any trouble in this place, looking as queer as you do?”

  “Not in the bunker. People keep their opinions to themselves. Outside, yes, I get trouble.”

  “Yet you’re still feeding these assholes.”

  “I like to think the hate stops with me.”

  “How noble. I have the sudden urge to kiss you on the mouth.”

  Riva glanced at Lexi’s lips, blushed, and looked down again. “Maybe you could help me in the kitchen instead.” She tapped a tall pot beside her. It was full of goop, but the hotplate beneath was unlit.

  “Are you asking me to spoon with you?”

  Riva laughed, startling a passing volunteer. “That’s exactly what I’m asking.” She twisted a nearby knob, and a dull red glow spread across the hotplate. “There’s a spoon on the counter. All you have to do is keep it from burning, add seasoning, and ladle it out when servers come by.”

  It sounded like pure tedium, yet anything was worth it to keep this cutie’s attention. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Either people cook food for me, or I buy it prepackaged and hope it doesn’t explode in the microwave.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be here to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

  They exchanged amused looks, and Lexi took the chance to admire her face again. That striking nose, those pensive eyes and exquisite lips… Yes, this was going to lead to a happy ending. Maybe even several.

  * * *

  As Lexi churned her spoon through the soup, trying to move it fast enough to create a whirlpool, the kitchen doors flew open. Callie strode in, looking tough yet adorable in her cap and a battered biker jacket. Seeing Lexi, she stopped short. “You’re kidding.”

  “Callie Roux.” Lexi waved her dripping spoon. “You hungry?”

  “What are you doing? Are you… Are you helping?”

  “She’s very obliging,” said Riva. “So your last name is Roux? Were your ancestors French refugees?”

  “Probably.” Callie treated Riva to a dimpled grin. “I don’t speak a word of French, though. My mom barely even spoke English.”

  “My grandmother spoke French, but my parents never learned. My name’s Riva Latour. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise. So, how the hell did you get her to work in the kitchen?”

  “She whispered romantic French poetry in my ear.” Lexi whacked her spoon against the pot, jettisoning several clinging droplets. “Something about caressing my silken thighs. And in a passionate frenzy, I cried out, ‘Oui! Oui! I will stir with you!’”

  Callie giggled, which was immediate cause to become suspicious. “What’s with you?” Lexi said. “You’re in a good mood.”

  “Nikolas gave me that radio phone.” Callie patted the bulging pocket of her jacket. “I’m going to deliver it to Min.”

  “But she’s inside an enclave. Isn’t that going to be dangerous?”

  “Sure, but I’m a smuggler. This is what I do. You’re just pampered.”

  She was a cheeky little creature who deserved a withering comeback, but it was important to keep things cool in front of Riva. The soup hissed. Lexi gave it a frantic stir. Shit, this was difficult work.

  “Here.” Riva ladled soup into a bowl. “Eat before you head out.”

  Callie dipped her finger into the soup and sucked it clean. “Tomato!”

  “Can you do that again?” said Lexi. “With your finger.”

  Callie laughed. “Eat me.” She took a big spoonful of soup and licked her lips. “This tastes so good. Sure beats my usual breakfast of tinned beans.”

  “So how are you getting to the University? You can’t take the van. They’ll be looking for it.”

  “Nikolas said I can borrow one of those big Harleys downstairs. I’m so excited. I haven’t been on a hog in years.”

  “You ride a bike on the city streets?” said Riva. “You must be brave.”

  Callie beamed. “I trust my reflexes. Never met a pothole I couldn’t swerve around. If you need proof, maybe I could take you for a ride.”

  Callie was trying to cut in on the action. Unacceptable. “Better get moving,” Lexi said. “Your soup’s going cold on you.”


  “Hint taken.” Callie gave the spoon a final lick. “Thanks for the soup, Riva. Keep your eyes on that Lexi. She seems nice when she wants to be, but she’s trouble.”

  Lexi watched Callie strut from the room. The girl might have been annoying, but it was still fun to imagine her astride one of those mean-looking bikes, bare legs against black steel…

  “You seem distracted,” said Riva. “I assume you’re thinking about something inappropriate.”

  “Always a safe guess. So, do you think she’s right? Am I trouble?”

  “I’m certain of it. By the way, do you have any spare clothing?”

  “Nope.” Lexi mimed sniffing her armpits. “Why, am I fragrant?”

  “Not yet. But if you keep stirring at that pace, you’re bound to work up a sweat.”

  “I’m not worried. My body odor is an aphrodisiac.”

  “I believe it. Even so, maybe you’d like to borrow one of my shirts. We’re about the same build.”

  It was a convenient excuse to check out Riva’s body again, though the amused arch of her eyebrow suggested the ruse had failed. “You’re right, we look pretty close,” said Lexi. “There’s even less of you, though.”

  “I have no idea why. I eat plenty of soup.”

  Too easy. “If you’re in the mood to eat something else…”

  Riva blushed. “Are you always so brazen, or have you decided I’m easy?”

  “Nothing like that. I’m just a chronic flirter.” Maybe it was time to dial down. “It’s supposed to make you laugh, but if it creeps you out, be sure to tell me.”

  Smiling, Riva adjusted the heat on her burner. “No, keep misbehaving. I think I like it. Meanwhile, your soup is burning.”

  “Shit!” Lexi swirled the soup. “By the way, don’t think inappropriate flirting is all I can do. I’m a very intelligent conversationalist.”

  “So engage me in an intelligent conversation until my break, and then we’ll go get that shirt.”

  Lexi scrunched her forehead, feigning deep thought. “Uh, to be honest, it’s pretty early by my standards. My brain’s a little sleepy. Maybe you can kick things off.”