Veil

by Aaron Overfield

  Ken could see it; Ken could see her confusion and pain. Suren longed to see the good in it; she had to see it.

  “Do you want to know how I realized? How I knew it was you?” he asked.

  Suren looked at him but didn’t say anything. She couldn’t say anything.

  “Watch,” he said as he used the mouse to rewind the paused video. He scrolled to when Suren and Jin left the lab and entered the elevator together. “Watch your Jin,” Ken whispered and clicked play.

  Suren watched Jin put his arm around her, kiss her, hold her hand. She saw Jin beam and never take his eyes off her. She watched as the Suren in the video didn’t really notice Jin’s behavior. She wasn’t out of the ordinary at all. But Jin … Jin was like a boy. A boy in love who got to hold the hand of the prettiest girl he ever saw.

  Tears streamed down Suren’s face as she watched the video. Tears of love and tears of anger. Anger at the Suren in the video who wasn’t paying any attention. She watched herself not pay any attention to the overwhelming love and adoration her husband, still alive and standing right next to her, could barely contain. As the doors of the elevators opened and the couple stepped out, she saw Jin skip; she witnessed Jin skip out of the elevator. When she saw that, Suren released a solitary laugh through her tears and immediately covered her mouth.

  Ken got down on one knee in front of Suren and looked up at her. “He knew, Suren. Jin knew how much you loved him. More than anyone in the world has ever—ever known how loved they were. More than anyone could ever know, Jin knew. Because he felt it inside you. He experienced it through you by Veiling you. He knew. Before he died Jin truly knew and experienced your love for him.”

  Suren let herself weep at that and rocked back and forth. One hand was still over her mouth and the other rubbed her head from front to back, back to front, front to back, again and again—as if she were touching Jin himself. She felt Jin inside her; she felt him throughout every inch of her body like electricity, starting from her scalp all the way down to the soles of her feet. She felt filled up by Jin. She rocked and wept so forcefully that she fell from the chair. Her sobs quickly turned into long, heavy, primal howls.

  When Jin was alive she never felt so close to him than in that moment and, as the sensation subsided, she experienced his death all over again, and so she wept more. She wept herself to exhaustion and Ken helped her to bed, where she collapsed on top of the covers, all curled up in her robe. She remained in that position and wept tears of pure anguish until she fell unconscious.

  Never one to toot on the old horn, Hunter Kennerly still knew he was smart as all get out. Growing up, he was smart enough to know how to keep from getting beat up simply for being so smart. When he wasn’t able to avoid bullying or fights by using his wit, he always had another trick up his sleeve.

  Growing up as a guy, he understood how horny guys were. Merely the wind blowing against them could arouse most guys of a certain age. Most guys simply wanted someone—anyone—to touch their dick. Hell, for someone to look at it. The veracity of teenage male hormones couldn’t be overstated. Girls never recognized it, but Hunter Kennerly sure as hell did.

  He also understood how nearly all guys did things they never wanted girls to know about. In fact, it became an aspect of girls that made them less attractive to Hunter: barely any girls suspected their secret activities, so they seemed voluntarily naive. Girls desired affection from boys so much that they were willingly blind to how boys were just horny little freaks.

  Growing up as a smart boy, Hunter also recognized how intellectually lazy most guys were. Most guys would use any and every excuse to avoid work that didn’t interest them. So, generally anything that didn’t involve a ball, a video game, or tits and a pussy. If given any indication there was someone who would take care of their work for them, almost every single guy would pounce on it. Even if they had nothing else in common with that other guy; even if they would've never associated with him otherwise.

  And whaddya know, in the form of Hunter, that other guy was also willing to take care of that pesky dick problem for them, too. No, no … no one would find out. No, no … it didn’t mean they were gay. No, no … they didn’t have to do anything back if they didn’t want to. He knew all the right things to say and after all was said and done he knew exactly when to call in a favor from them.

  He would keep doing their work for them and keep taking care of certain problems they were yet unsuccessful in convincing any girls to take care of, so long as they kept up their end of the unspoken arrangement: protection. As long as they stood up for him when he needed it then as far as he was concerned, everything else between them would be governed by damn near Fight Club rules. Before he left junior high, Hunter forged that unspoken bond with practically all the guys he predicted would eventually rule their high school.

  No matter how smart he was or thought he was, Hunter Kennerly wasn’t “learn Veil in five days or less” kind of smart. The General gave him five days, and in five days he got an overall picture of the theory of Veil but couldn’t begin to grasp its intricacies. He figured out the “what” of Veil, but the “how” was weeks, if not months beyond his reach.

  What he did learn was what the military expected the device he originally designed to do and where it all went wrong. He never encountered a more genius theory than Veil; the fact someone was able to take it from theory to practice made him feel about as intelligent as the two knuckle-draggers who pulled him into the project in the first place.

  One thing was certain: those two fools played no part in creating Veil. Hell, they barely knew what they had in Veil, and that was apparent from how they instructed him to create the device he created. It was obvious they didn’t understand the basic principles behind what made Veil possible.

  Shit, before he read some of the material, he didn’t know those principles were possible. The looming question became: Who is Veil’s creator? Or more accurately from what the General said, who was Veil’s creator? The more he read the more the question haunted him. And not only out of curiosity but almost equally out of ego. Almost.

  Another thing was certain: if he found out who was responsible for creating Veil, he could do something with that information. He realized that information could very well become the means for him to accomplish his goal of fucking over the DO motherfucking D. It didn’t take long for Hunter to fall back onto his adolescent methods of getting what he wanted. The question then became: which one of the knuckle-draggers had a hankering for some dick?

  Five whole days. Five days was what they gave Hunter to review Veil so they could confer about what went wrong with his original device design. Although it wasn’t ample time for him to fully comprehend Veil, he was relatively sure he could address some of the problems in order to give Schaffer and Pollock enough of an idea as to how stupid they were.

  He couldn’t really come out and tell them how stupid they were, so he hoped in the process it would dawn on them. In the meantime, he would continue to play his role. While things retained a feeling of morbid seriousness, he was still himself and that meant he would continue to be on the lookout for a way to turn the tables and do what he set out to do.

  Hunter opened with, “First of all, in case someone hasn’t already informed you, Subject Two died because you extracted all of his neuroelectricity. I imagine he died instantly.”

  Maybe a bit of a harsh opening but it was a good place to start.

  “Yes, we know. Our question is—why did that happen? We told you what we wanted the device to do. Obviously, we weren’t expecting it to operate in that manner. It wasn’t our goal to terminate the subject,” Schaffer defended himself and Pollock.

  “Obviously. But all you told me was you wanted a device that could extract and discharge neuroelectricity. Which is exactly what my device did. It successfully served that function every time you used it. What you didn’t inform me, among many other things we’ll get to later, is that you needed the device to differentiate between neuroelec
trical patterns so it could extract a specific pattern while leaving the host’s neuroelectricity intact. If I’d been privy to much more information, the unfortunate incident would not have occurred.”

  “We understand that now,” Schaffer retorted. “So let’s move on from there. The General has indicated any possible repercussions from the incident will not affect you, so you needn’t concern yourself with it.”

  “Repercussions?! Repercussions—” Hunter started to protest but changed his mind; it was pointless. “Right, ok well then fine, let’s move on. There are several issues that need to be considered in developing the device you’re seeking. And I’ll tell you right now it won’t be as compact as you want it to be any time soon. That technology is years away. It won’t be pocket-sized.”

  “Once we accepted that it wouldn’t be possible to deploy Veil remotely, we were naturally less concerned with its portability, though size is still a factor,” Pollock responded.

  “Yes, and now with a better understanding of Veil, I can reiterate that it will never be remotely deployable, and not only for the reason I initially stated.”

  “Go ahead and give us all the issues you believe we’re facing,” Schaffer requested.

  “Ok. First of all, like I said, the device has to differentiate between neuroelectrical patterns. So it knows which to extract. Second, and this is a huge obstacle, it needs to be able to extract not only the neuroelectrical current itself but also the network of neuroelectrical vibrations in their entirety. That’s what makes Veil work in the first place. No one would expect you to understand all the nuances of neuroelectricity but I can say without knowing precisely what you’re working with, there’s no way this project can be successful.”

  “Then explain,” Pollock ordered. He sounded more like General Coffman than himself.

  “Think of it like this. You have a guitar string. It’s a solid metal wire. You can move it and twist it and pluck it. Once you pluck it, the string is in a state of vibration and with a guitar string, while it’s in that state, you can see the vibrations. The vibration is what creates the sound, like the vibrations and oscillations of neuroelectricity create information within the brain. They’re the ripples that create experience. The device you instructed me to design only extracted the guitar string itself, the neuroelectricity itself, while leaving behind the vibrational eddy that is so crucial to Veil. It’s crucial because, as I said, those vibrations are what stimulate the brain to cause the impulses that produce experience. The Witness isn’t merely the neuroelectric current; it’s the neuroelectrical network as a whole and that includes all the vibrations, almost like a total state of being, like the guitar string in a state of vibrating. Electricity itself doesn’t hold information. The vibrations do; the frequency does. That’s what stimulates the brain.”

  “Ahhh…” he heard but wasn’t sure which of the men said it.

  “So any device we create has to be capable of downloading the entire Witness, not simply rip out its skeleton,” he finished.

  “Understood,” Schaffer acknowledged. “Makes sense.”

  “Also, the Witness doesn’t get uploaded back onto its owner’s brain all at once. It’s not like placing a hairnet onto a head,” Hunter continued. His choice of words caused Schaffer and Pollock to glance at each other and chuckle, which Hunter ignored. “Each vibrational eddy—every electric ripple—of the Witness represents a separate experience, a moment in time, so each has to be uploaded linearly, in stages, and not as a whole. Not all one at a time. Understand?”

  “Yes,” both acknowledged.

  “Ok good. Moving on. So, after shadowing a subject, when the Witness is downloaded from the subject and is ready to be uploaded back on its owner, it can’t simply be uploaded as-is. It has to be inverted. Turned inside out. Reversed, if you will. If this isn’t done, the brain of the person receiving the information from the subject will experience it all backwards; that person will experience time in reverse. So, in light of all this, the device you seek has to be capable of not simply uploading and downloading neuroelectricity and differentiating between different neurological patterns, but it also has to be able to manipulate and rearrange neuroelectricity. It is going to be a complicated piece of technology.”

  “Is that all?” Pollock asked.

  “Actually, no. But those are the main points that need to be considered when moving forward in designing it. The other considerations can be addressed simply by addressing these points. Especially in being able to manipulate and rearrange neuroelectricity.”

  “Give us one example of another consideration,” Pollock pressed.

  “Ok, well, as was explained in the book you two compiled,” Hunter jabbed, “all the neuroelectrical vibrations responsible for physical body movement will need to be artificially muted during the upload, otherwise when you return the Witness to its owner’s brain, that brain will be subjected to the vibrations responsible for creating physical motion. Which will cause their body to try to perform those motions, albeit in a very sped up state. Like being in fast-forward.”

  “Damn,” Schaffer sighed.

  “Wait, why sped up?” Pollock interjected.

  “Good question. It’s sped up because the Veil process is quick when The Witness is returned to its owner after they’re done shadowing. By default, Veil isn’t experienced in realtime. It happens quickly, so the person has a memory of what it was like to be another person. A very vivid, precise memory. But, the hours and hours of experience they obtain through Veil are condensed down to minutes. I guess you could upload slower and give the experience in realtime, but I can’t see any need to do it like that. The technology would certainly allow for it, though.”

  “Damn,” Pollock parroted Schaffer.

  “Yeah, there’s a lot to consider here. And without all this information, I could’ve never created the device I’m now going to help you build.”

  Or build for you. You fucking morons.

  “I told you we were missing something before,” Pollock attempted to joke with Schaffer.

  “I will punch you again, Luke.”

  “So, what was it like?”

  “What was what like?”

  “You know.”

  “Oh. It was … well shit, I’m not sure if I’m allowed to talk about it,” Schaffer stalled. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned down to put on his other sock.

  “Why couldn’t you? I’m all cleared. You made sure of that,” Hunter joked and pushed Schaffer with his outstretched leg, like he was going to push him off the edge of the bed. “Besides, Pollock told me what his was like. But his was so boring.” He lied, of course. Pollock hadn’t told him a damn thing, and he would've never tried to get it out of Pollock. Still, he knew if he got it out of Pollock it probably would’ve been boring. So, that wasn’t too much of a stretch.

  “I’m not surprised. Pollock is boring.”

  “And hot, but dumb as a box of burnt hair,” Hunter laughed and rose to his knees directly behind Schaffer. He put his arms around Schaffer and leaned into him. He pressed his chest on Schaffer’s back and placed the side of his head on the back of Schaffer’s head.

  “You know I’m not gay,” Schaffer protested and stood up, which knocked Hunter backwards. “Right?”

  Schaffer walked across the room toward his pants and shoes. He had a disgusting, pale frame. With hair in all the wrong places, a non-athletic body, and awkward posture that Hunter never noticed until he saw him naked. He figured Schaffer was masculine enough and had potential, but it would take so many years to reach his potential that, by the time he did, he’d be too old for it to matter.

  Hunter figured Schaffer’s protest had more to do with the fact that he just referred to Pollock as “hot,” but he let it slide. He had bigger dicks to fry.

  “Never said you were gay. And don’t really give a shit.”

  “Well I’m not.”

  “Seriously, aren’t we too old to be having this conversation? Obviously, it’s neither of
our first times, and we’re not at the frat house after a night of hazing that accidentally turned into a big ol’ daisy chain.”

  “I’m just saying,” Schaffer joked back. He didn’t know what a daisy chain was but for some reason Hunter always seemed to bring up frat boys. “Don’t be getting all touchy ya big ol’ queer.”

  Hunter laughed and flopped himself backwards onto the bed. The back of his head landed on the pillow and his knees were bent up. He patted the bed next to him and looked at Schaffer, who gave one of his typical shrugs and flung himself onto the bed. He twisted his body so he landed on his back next to Hunter. His legs were outstretched and he clasped his hands across his chest. Hunter flipped over onto his stomach and crossed his arms over the top of the pillow, where he rested his head and looked at Schaffer.

  “Frak, it’s so hard to explain. It’s incredible. Life-changing. I can’t even … hell, I don’t know where to begin,” Schaffer fumbled. He looked awestruck and stared at the ceiling without blinking.

  “Come on, tell me what it was like,” Hunter pushed.

  “Ok, well, you don’t really experience anything until you get back in your body. Because, well, once they take your Witness out, everything kind of stops. But only for a second. Because once they put you back inside yourself all the gaps get filled-in and the only thing that’s missing is that second between them taking you out and putting you inside someone else. You can’t really notice it; it’s a blur. Kind of like when you wake up and you know the time has passed but you can only vaguely sense it. But, once they put you back inside yourself and it starts … holy shit. Holy shit.”

  “What?” Hunter was genuinely intrigued. He turned onto his side and his body faced Schaffer. He used his arm to prop up his head.

  “Well, first you get the chills and goose bumps all over. Or at least I did. Like when you hear a really good song. Like someone with a really, really good voice. It feels like that. Except it lasts the whole time. These amazing chills and goose bumps that last the entire time.” Schaffer shivered just talking about it and recalling the experience. “And then everything starts to kind of fill in. A little at a time. All the images, sounds, tastes, feelings, thoughts, everything. Slowly at first, while your brain gets used to the sensation, I guess. And your brain feels really cold at first. Like liquid nitrogen cold. Like dry ice. Almost too cold. But that passes. And before you know it, you can remember being someone else. You remember what their thoughts sounded like and what they contained. Like how the voice in their head sounds and what all it said. You remember how they thought. What it felt like to be them. What their body felt like, what it looked like from their perspective. Their feelings. What they worried about. What they fantasized about. What they really thought about people they interacted with. It’s so hard to explain.”