by Sean Platt
“No thanks. I’m good.”
“This tram goes to the Denizen. To the permanent resident island.”
Ephraim nodded. “Thanks.”
“Are you a permanent resident?”
“Yes. I’m a guest.”
“There are no guests on the Denizen, young man.” The other woman looked much younger than Ephraim, maybe twenty or nineteen. But as she looked around the stalled tram, her movements were elderly.
“I’m an exception.”
“There are no exceptions. Perhaps you should—”
“It’s fine,” Ephraim said, terse, patting his Doodad as if it were a time bomb in his pocket, “but thanks.”
Both women stopped protesting, but the tram remained still. “Perhaps you could check your Eden app,” the first suggested. “Maybe there’s been a mistake.” She said the last word in a way that made Ephraim feel like a mistake was impossible.
Ephraim opened the app to appease them. Apparently, he’d never had the Eden app open while boarding a tram, because the message there was obvious. He saw Unauthorized for passage in flashing red.
“But I’m authorized,” he said.
“I’m afraid there are no guests,” said the second woman in a girl’s voice and old lady’s lecturing timbre. “And no exceptions.”
“But—”
“Please, sir,” said the first woman. “I need to get home.”
Ephraim looked at the other, found no help, and reluctantly left the tram.
The doors closed, and then the tram sped back to the Denizen.
“Dammit,” Ephraim said aloud.
He sent a page to Jonathan and got a response immediately.
I’m sorry; I forgot; I’ll handle it by the time you want to come back.
And Ephraim thought, shit. I guess I said I wanted to stay here a while.
With no better ideas, he paged Altruance, whose response sounded pleased but not surprised that Ephraim was alive. And that sent a clear message. All was well and normal on Reception. There had been no drama. Ephraim truly was, as Jonathan said, free to move about the complex.
Ephraim didn’t feel comfortable telling Altruance to pick him up at the tram station, so he told them he wanted to take a walk and to meet him at a small bistro called Just In Time, which the map claimed was nearby.
He walked, trying to clear his fog. The hangover persisted, his right mind elusive.
Why was Jonathan acting so strange? And why did they remember different versions of a shared past?
Ephraim couldn’t ruminate long. Once in sight of Just In Time, a blonde stopped him with a cheery hello.
“Oh. Hi, Elle.”
“You’re back!”
Ephraim struggled for the right tone. The last time he’d seen Elle, her naked back had been leaving his bed. Had he loved her and left her, or was she the one who’d jilted him?
“Yeah. I’m back.”
“It’s good to see you, Mr. Todd.”
“Mr. Todd? That’s a bit formal, isn’t it?”
Elle cocked her head, puzzled.
“So,” Ephraim said, awkwardness descending. “You’re back, too.”
“Um, yes, I guess I am?”
“Back on the Retreat.” He fumbled. “You know what I mean.”
“Are you feeling okay, Mr. Todd? You look pale.”
“It’s just fog from the procedure.”
“Oh? You had one of our procedures?”
“You know I …” But he stopped. She was looking at the backs of her fingers, checking her cuticles. Ephraim had seen Elle do it before when they’d all been together in groups at the start of his trip. He remembered wondering why she cared so much about her nails, which were always trimmed short, never painted, and unremarkable.
Then he remembered the gouges on his back. He remembered the nails that had made those marks the next morning, thinking it wasn’t a surprise that he was bleeding. And they sure didn’t look like Elle’s nails now.
“You what?”
“Never mind.”
“Have you seen Altruance or Sophie since you’ve been back?”
“No, but I just paged Altruance to see if he could …”
Ephraim trailed off as he heard wheels on gravel and the hum of an approaching electric motor.
The sounds rounded the corner, causing Elle to give Ephraim a small nod and step away.
Gus was at the helm of the same golf cart they'd taken to the Pearl tram days ago, looking as goofy and grinning and semi-stoned as usual. Pierra hadn’t ridden along, but two strangers had. One was a tall, skinny black kid in his early twenties and the other a white woman about the same age.
The strangers got off and marched toward Ephraim, smiling. They didn’t stop until they’d wrapped him in a three-way hug. Only after breaking the embrace did Ephraim find the strength to speak.
Sophie — the youthful doppelgänger of Sophie — beat him to it. “I don’t look bad for 47 years old, do I?”
“Jesus. This is surreal.”
Altruance slapped him on the back. “Let’s go shoot some hoops … Dad.” And he grinned. Without an older man’s bulk to fill out his features, young Altruance seemed to be all teeth and eyes.
“You look good,” Sophie said, looking him over. “Not quite what I was expecting, but good.”
“Yeah, man,” added the boyish Altruance. “You go in for a half-million credit treatment and this is all you have done?”
“I didn’t want to change much. I was afraid I wouldn’t recognize myself.” Ephraim swallowed. “Like I don’t recognize you. Sorry.”
Altruance grinned. “Don’t be sorry. Just admire us and tell us we’re pretty.”
Youth had made them more gregarious. Sophie and Altruance each took one of Ephraim’s hands and dragged him to the cart, where Gus looked unmoved by the suddenly young celebrities, his eyes like stop signs.
Gus floored it. Ephraim fought whiplash as they rounded the shoreline path.
“Wait,” Ephraim said over the wind. “I need to hit the communication zone.”
“What you need is a drink,” Altruance said.
“Real fast,” Ephraim said.
“The zones are the other way,” Gus said. “Can it wait, or … ?” He trailed off, with the implication that it should wait unless something was on fire.
Sophie smiled and put her hand on Ephraim’s arm. But where it had felt strange to have Sophie Norris touch him before, it felt downright inappropriate now. The girl she appeared to be could have been his daughter. Almost.
“Fun first,” Sophie said. “Responsibility later.”
Ephraim thought of arguing.
But he was in the presence of strangers, and it didn’t feel right to reveal any secrets.
CHAPTER 49
INSIDE THE LIGHT'S GRACE
The day passed. Ephraim lost track of time.
He thought of telling Altruance and Sophie that he’d found Jonathan, but doing so felt like something between a violation and a jinx. He didn’t know how he felt about Jonathan’s return to his life — or return to life, seeing as Ephraim had assumed him dead. He didn’t know how to feel about Jonathan’s offer to stay on Eden and work alongside him. And he didn’t know what to think of the oddity he’d noticed in his brother; the way he had some key memories wrong, the way his small mannerisms weren’t different so much as off.
Were those new eccentricities something he could write off on the passage of time? It had been a long while since he’d seen his brother. Life changed people, and Ephraim even had a new scar to prove it.
By twilight, Ephraim decided it might be time to head back — to see if the tram issue had been fixed and he could now return to the Denizen. He also wondered if doing so even made sense. His rental was on the Retreat, same as Sophie’s and Altruance’s. They were back in place, so why wouldn’t he be?
But something had changed. Not only did he want to close the loop with his brother (and open some new ones); he also couldn’t stop thinki
ng of Altruance and Sophie as strangers he’d just met — and therefore hadn’t built enough history with to trust.
Was this what it would be like for them back home, assuming they ever left Eden? Would family and friends see them as strange, new beings who had replaced the people they knew and loved? Was that why so many of Eden’s guests stayed on the island forever? Rejuvenates were new pariahs, unable to fit with the world as they knew it.
Was the same thing happening to Ephraim? He’d had the tip of the procedure, but he’d gone through it. Did that mean he something else now, too? Did the Tomorrow Gene change a person completely? Refurbish him down to the core of his being?
It didn’t matter. Ephraim wanted to retire for the evening, and that retirement wanted to happen on the Denizen. For one, he needed to reach Fiona, and he no longer trusted the communication zone even with the scrambler dongle. But he also felt that sense of newness. Of change. The Denizen felt more like his place now — at his brother’s side.
“You okay, old man?” Altruance asked him.
Ephraim smiled and nodded at the kid pretending he was Altruance Brown, but in truth he felt tired enough to collapse.
It’s hangover from the procedure.
But Altruance and Sophie hadn’t merely had the same procedure; they’d had a more extreme version. In truth, Ephraim was probably tired because he was still old. Even with five years off the clock, he was ancient to them now.
He was unfamiliar with them.
And that meant he was unable to fully unwind around them, to trust them with what ate at his insides.
Ephraim declined Altruance’s offer for a ride to the station and walked, realizing only once he’d boarded the tram that he hadn’t called Fiona.
He checked his Doodad and found no new messages. But did that even mean anything? He’d received messages that were supposedly from Altruance that actually weren’t. Unless Altruance had been lying. Unless he’d somehow been part of this craziness all along.
Stop being paranoid. Stop being weird. Their youth just freaked you out; that’s all. They’re the same people you knew before. They’re the people you trusted with your entire story — the only two people on Eden, including your brother, who know it all.
The sun kissed the ocean, setting into it like a giant pill slowly dissolving. The tram rode smooth as glass. Once up to speed it felt perfectly still. He’d gone too far from his anchors — those unchanging things he could hold onto for stability and sense. Worse, he’d had anchors, but they’d all pulled away from the bottom and become useless.
So many horrible half-memories competed for his attention. Even Ephraim’s waking mind felt like a dream.
Delusions. This is what Fiona warned you about before you came to Eden. It’s what Dr. Scully warned you about. You have a history of deciding you’re being persecuted. Of believing the worst, then finding false evidence to substantiate it.
Ephraim blinked. Put his face in his palms and tried to reset. He needed an anchor more than ever.
Fiona.
He looked up at the tram’s slow downward arc. The sun had almost set. He’d reach the Denizen station soon — and find somewhere secluded to call the mainland. He’d ring Fiona for hours if that’s what it took. He was tenacious; if she didn’t answer, he could browse the Internet and his email to find her caretakers. He’d wake them up if they were sleeping. He’d phone those caretakers’ mothers. He’d call shops in Fiona’s neighborhood and ask the merchants to knock on her door. He’d call the cops and report foul play.
Anything to talk to her, right now.
Anything to unload this mounting burden. Because as the sun set, Ephraim felt his carefully held will start to fracture. He’d been too strong for too long, and now his strength was calling it quits.
He was scared.
Beyond uneasy. Shaking.
Something was wrong on Eden. He was certain, despite all the smiles and indications that everything was taken-care-of — down to the immaculate gardens and grounds, cleaned by faceless monsters used by Eden as chattel.
Dim shapes filled the shadows. There were ghosts on the Denizen, too.
Taking his Doodad from his pocket took effort. His hands wouldn’t hold steady, and his thoughts were spiraling out of control. Whatever breakdown Ephraim’s mind kept threatening to have, it felt like it might be coming on like an avalanche.
This is all wrong. All wrong. Jonathan is wrong. Eden is wrong. Elle and Nolon are wrong. And there’s something wrong with the new Sophie and Altruance — if the older ones were even right to begin with.
The need to hear Fiona’s voice felt like withdrawal from a drug. When had he talked to her last? Had it been a week? She was the only person who could calm him. She was the only person who could tell him what to think of all he’d seen — to make it make sense again.
The tram doors opened. Ephraim dropped his Doodad to the station’s stone tile floor. In his mind’s eye, it struck the hard surface and shattered. But in reality, it had bounced away, its fate undecided.
He scrambled and managed to catch the Doodad and hold it tight. His breathing, once he’d clutched it, turned fast and shallow. His heartbeat was loud in his wrists and neck. The air felt thin. He wasn’t just tired; he was dizzy.
It’s the procedure.
It’s not the procedure, dammit.
Something else is going wrong inside you. Something worse.
Down a gravel path. To the gate around the station.
The Denizen, despite its splendor, was lit like a rustic island new to electricity. The atmosphere was sedate — serene, maybe, if you weren’t about to lose your shit and curl into a fetal ball. There was a tiny parking lot at the station, but nothing was there. People walked or took carts, dropped off instead of coming to stay. The area wasn’t more than a wide spot in the road with a single white streetlamp. Bushes and shrubs beyond the station were mottles of darkness beneath the navy blue sky. He could hear rustling, and saw taller silhouettes that moved without speaking. Ghosts, forever working in silence.
Ephraim moved beneath the streetlight, suddenly unwilling to leave its halo. He’d need to, once he reached Fiona; or anyone walking by or headed for the tram would hear what he had to say.
He’d stay here until then. Inside the light’s grace.
He tapped Fiona’s contact entry, then raised the device to his ear, listening to rings and waiting. It wouldn’t be long. Soon he’d be able to get these secrets out of his body, where they festered like poison. Soon he’d scratch the itch Fiona had left him with since before his Tomorrow Gene treatment — the open loop of her message, which felt more and more like a warning.
“Who are you calling?”
Ephraim jumped.
Jonathan was standing just past streetlight, watching.
CHAPTER 50
A JUNKIE IN NEED OF A FIX
“It’s going to get cool out here now that the sun’s going down,” Jonathan said.
The illumination caught his nose, his chin, and the salt-and-pepper goatee, but Jonathan's dark skin made him shrink into the night. He was wearing a gray shirt and dark slacks, almost as if trying to hide in the dim.
“Maybe you’d rather wait and call once you’re inside?” he went on.
“I was just checking in with Altruance,” Ephraim told him.
“Oh. I thought I saw you go to contacts. I figured you’d use the Eden app to get in touch with Altruance.”
Ephraim tried to smile, but it came out maniacal. Jonathan had a scientist's analysis of the situation. He was detailed, accurate, and minded nuances that normal people would let pass. Ephraim wanted to shout, stop analyzing my actions and leave me alone!
“I just figured I’d call him. You know, like in the old days, before pages and texting?” But the call was already ringing, and Ephraim knew from experience that a person ten feet away could hear the other half of his conversations if the person on the other end talked loud enough.
Fiona, when she answered, woul
d be loud. And she was a woman —not the deep-voiced basketball player he’d claimed to be calling.
He killed the call with a tap. “He’s not answering.”
“Is he in a communication zone?” Jonathan asked.
“I assume he’s at his house.”
“You know you can’t just talk on a Doodad anywhere on Eden, right? On most of the islands, calls are blocked except in designated areas. For serenity.”
Shit.
Yes, he knew that. He should have said he was calling home to check his office messages.
“I forgot. I guess that’s why he didn’t answer.” Again, Ephraim tried that ill-fitting smile. His hands were shaking. A junkie in need of his fix who’s touched the elixir just to leave it on the table.
Jonathan watched him. Forever passed while his brother’s dark eyes fixed on him. Maybe ten seconds. “That’s why I figured you’d use the app. You’ll need to send him a page.”
“I guess.”
But Jonathan watched him again. Then finally, “Are you going to?”
“Going to what?”
“Send Altruance a page. Since you couldn’t reach him.”
“I can do it when we get back.” Then, trying to sound casual, “Why are you here? I mean, why did you come down?”
“I thought you might have trouble finding the house in the dark.”
“Oh.” He looked up, wanting to explain this. No, I know the way; it’s that one there. But Jonathan’s house wasn’t visible from the station, and Ephraim honestly had no clue where to find it. He’d come to the Denizen unconscious last time and left distracted. “Thanks.”
“It’s a bit of a hike. I figured we could use the fresh air, so I didn’t call for a cart.”
“That’s fine. A walk sounds nice.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to send that page before you forget? To Altruance?”
Ephraim shook his head. “I’ll do it later.”
“Don’t forget.”
“I won’t.”
But he couldn’t see Jonathan’s eyes in the shadow. Was there something in his voice worth noticing? Or was this more of Ephraim’s paranoia — panic in the absence of an anchor?
