Veil

by Aaron Overfield

  Ken headed to the foot of Jin’s bed, and as he did Suren noticed a mirror on the wall opposite her, which Ken obscured when he was sitting down. She could see Brock in the reflection. He was behind her, sitting in his chair, looking into the mirror and straight at her. He smiled and let out a little laugh. A typical Brock laugh.

  Ken startled Suren as he walked up behind her, bent over, and kissed the top of her head. A whisper of Ken’s voice came to her. It didn’t come from his mouth but rather filled her entire mind.

  We will see you two on the other side, my friend.

  He kissed the top of her head again, and suddenly she could smell his distinct, familiar, woody fragrance. She could smell Ken, and the scent tingled through her body in waves of nutmeg, bergamot, and cardamom that tickled Suren from the roots of her hair all the way down until it radiated from her shimmering, gold toenail polish. Ken left her side and walked behind Brock’s chair. Her eyes met with their faces and they both smiled through the mirror as Ken pushed Brock out of the room, leaving Suren alone with her Jin.

  Suren released a frail laugh—which sounded to Roy like a cough—and her eyes opened again. Tears were beginning to well up in them, but her body was too weak to produce many. She barely squeezed Roy’s hand, raised her eyebrows, and lovingly sighed out one final word before closing her tired eyes for the last time.

  “Hunter.”

  No Veiler knew whose Veil it was anymore. The Veil was just The Veil. It was just how things were. Literally, no Veiler knew who it belonged to. No Veiler knew who the guy was or what his name had been. Tiny worked with a Veiler who used to live in the Ancient District where one of The Veil servers was stored in a temple. The Veiler told everyone that the temple was rumored to contain some statue, which had one word written on it: “Jin.”

  So, a lot of Veilers who lived around Tiny in Veil York City, and ones who he worked with, simply called the guy “Jin” for fun. He didn’t know what other Veilers across the world called the guy or if other Veilers bothered to give the guy a name. The experiences in The Veil didn’t all belong to the guy. Actually, he wasn’t sure any belonged to the guy at all. He wasn’t sure if the guy was actually a guy. The guy just so happened to be the first Veiler who Veiled all the best experiences and happened to be the first Veiler who Veiled them all the best. The guy was the best Veiler out of any other Veilers in the history of Veil—so his life of perfect Veiling became The Veil.

  The guy was the best Veiler, and after a while the Peyton Principle apparently stopped trying to detect Veilers who outranked him. Besides, what were the chances that another Veiler’s barometer would ever outrank that guy? Who would ever outrank anyone else after centuries upon centuries of everyone experiencing a lifetime of exactly the same experience? It’s not like any Veiler was going to experience experiencing experiences better. That was just ridiculous. It had to end somewhere. It just so happened that it ended with that guy, whoever that guy was. Whoever the guy was, he was Veil. Maybe that was what they should call him. Maybe they should call him “Veil.” Maybe Tiny would say something to Veilers at work about that. If he had the time. Time was The Veil.

  Across the board, Veilers all had the same amount of time removed from their overall life-expectancy equation in order to allot for a job and basic non-Veil life functions. All Veilers were given an equal chance to live out The Veil within their overall estimated life expectancy. The formula also calculated for job seniority advancements, provided Veilers worked satisfactorily enough to advance on schedule. Considering how no Veilers wanted to miss out on their lives by not living out The Veil, Tiny figured absolutely every Veiler worked to satisfaction at all times.

  According to Surveil, every Veiler performed to satisfaction for the last 7,335 days. Also according to Surveil, 90.35% of the population was able to complete The Veil within their lifetime. The other approximately 10% was comprised mostly of Veilers who died in accidents or otherwise died prematurely before living out The Veil. In fact, according to Surveil, 17% of the population lived out The Veil and started part of The Veil over again. No Veiler ever lived out The Veil twice. It wasn’t humanly possible; there simply wasn’t enough time in a human life. Tiny figured a Veiler would have to live to be like 125 or something to do that.

  There was no way Tiny wasn’t going to live out The Veil. He worked his job to satisfaction and always advanced on time. As much as possible, he reduced the time that all his other non-Veil life functions took up. In addition, like other Veilers, Tiny always found it more efficient to discuss reproduction with a Veiler who he worked with or who was in the same building as him. If he could get his mandated reproduction out of the way and present his offspring to Surveil Accordance before his deadline, he could focus solely on living out The Veil.

  There was simply no way Tiny wasn’t going to live out The Veil. He wasn’t about to give up his life for anything or anyone. The Veil was so amazing. He couldn’t imagine having actually lived one of the experiences in The Veil, let alone the entire lifetime’s worth. He couldn’t understand what Veilers did before The Veil. To think about everything they missed out on made his brain hurt. It actually made him sad for them. The Veil was the perfect life.

  Younger Veilers didn’t even refer to the guy in The Veil anymore, nor did they call it The Veil. They all called it ‘My Veil.’ As if it belonged to each one of them personally.

  Give me a break.

  Regardless of The Veil's original owner, it was now The Veil.

  Nothing was ever going to keep Tiny from living it out to the very end. Time was The Veil; The Veil was life.

  As her eyes left the mirror and her gaze traveled up the hospital bed in front of her, Suren heard music fade in from the background. She recognized the voice immediately. It was her Nina.

  Suren’s eyes settled upon Jin’s face.

  Nina Simone sang to them.

  And now we are one; let my soul rest in peace.

  Suren’s body released a sob, which again sounded like a cough to Roy. She clinched her eyes, and a single tear trickled out.

  Through her own eyes, Suren stared at her Jin’s face, while Nina sang away.

  At last, it is done; my soul has been released.

  Her eyes slowly shifted to a table next to the bed. She focused on the picture of herself, which Roy brought for that occasion. Suren felt her hand reach out. She picked it up and pressed it against Jin’s chest with her palm.

  Suren’s body weakened. Her fingers went limp and dropped from Roy’s hand. Roy placed his palm on her chest, in the same manner in which Suren’s was now placed on Jin’s.

  She felt her hand press the picture of herself onto Jin’s chest, firmly and with great love.

  For thousands of years, my soul has roamed the earth.

  She didn’t know how she went on without him for all those years. It was a miracle. For what seemed like a hundred years, she wanted to go with him. No, Nina was right, it was closer to a thousand years. Suren wanted to go home.

  Her breathing weakened as she looked down upon her Jin. She felt his heart beating underneath her hand. She could sense as Jin’s heartbeat and breathing slowed, at the same rate as her own. It felt like togetherness; it felt like home. Suren was going home. Suren and Jin were going home.

  In search of you, so that someday I could give birth, to know joy. Joy, joy, joy.

  She was there with him. Her joy. Her Jin. Her love. The only man ever to fill her heart. The only one ever to enter it. He was the reason she did everything she did. He was her Jin, and she, his Suren.

  His face. Oh God, how she loved every inch of his face. His face gave her joy.

  Joy and peace are mine, peace divine.

  Being there with Jin gave her peace. Being there almost made up for over twenty-five years of guilt she inflicted on herself for not being at Jin’s side while he lay there in the hospital. The idea of Jin lying there—so wounded, so abandoned, so alone—haunted Suren to no end. She was there with him now, though. So, sh
e was at peace.

  His face. Oh God, his face.

  Tears leaked from her eyes, and she didn’t know if they trickled down her cheeks in the hospital room or her cheeks in her bedroom … or both.

  She could still feel Jin’s heartbeat, and it slowed little by little.

  And now we give thanks, give thanks for each other.

  She did thank him. She thanked him for being her Jin and for loving her. She was his and he was hers. Jin was all she ever needed, and once he left all she did was wait for the moment when she would go home to him.

  His heart slowed beneath her hand, and she felt herself happily going with him. She wanted to go with him.

  Just as he did so many years before, Roy wept as the heart beneath his palm weakened while the lungs slowed. His eyes spilled heavy, love-and-grief ribboned tears, as he gazed adoringly at the tired face in front of him. He rose to whisper in his friend’s ear, careful not to let his hand leave her chest.

  “Go with him, lady Suren. He misses you. He loves you so much. He’s there waiting for you. I love you, lady Suren. I hate to see you leave, but it’s time for you to go and be with your Jin.” Roy slowly lowered back down in the chair, still careful not to let his hand leave Suren’s chest.

  She didn’t know what was going to happen next. She was done with that world. She couldn’t worry about what would happen to the world they made, the world her and Jin were leaving behind together. They lived their lives, and it was time to move on. They would leave that world together, right then.

  That was always how it was supposed to be and there was nothing left to do.

  Nina told Suren she was right.

  At peace forever, for it is done.

  She stared at Jin’s face while the tears slowed to a ghost of a trickle. She smiled next to Jin in the hospital and next to Roy in her bedroom. She smiled at how Hunter beautifully, poetically, and lovingly got the last word.

  Suren stared at her Jin and let go along with him. As the heartbeat below her hand faded, so did the one below Roy’s.

  In that last moment, Jin’s eyelids slowly opened and his eyes were fixed upon hers. Suren didn’t have the strength to gasp or smile from the utter bliss while the two sank into each other’s gaze … sinking as their heartbeats faded and faded and faded…

  They faded until they completely sank away into each other.

  Nina’s voice grew faint as the last breaths of air crossed the couple’s lips. Their breaths met and melded and danced together, until they drifted beyond Nina’s final words.

  Suren knew those words by heart, as perfectly as her heart knew Jin’s love. Both were stitched into her soul.

  Each lyric unraveled as Suren let go and went home to her Jin.

  Although her ears didn’t hear them, Suren’s spirit echoed Nina’s words, so she took them home with her.

  At peace forever, for we are one.

  EPILOGUES - UNVEILED

  "what is life after veil?"

  1

  DOMINIKA

  She had three more days until she was officially Dominika Alexandrovna. Three more days until her chosen name actually represented the life she picked when she was six years old. Most youth didn’t pick their lives until they were a teen Veiler but not Cheyenne. She knew at age six, and her wait started. Only three days left. Cheyenne had three days until she was an adult, was granted her chosen name, and could have her vPort upgraded to the permanent and unrestricted model. From the moment it was installed on her second birthday, she experienced complications with her port, so upgrades were always especially difficult for her to bear, and she dreaded them.

  Unlike most children, the nanoelectrode-infused silicone resin they coated her skull with when she was two years old didn’t grow along with her body. Her doctors could not explain or correct it. For some reason, the silicone membrane, which connected to the vPort in the base of her neck, didn’t expand and stretch with the growth of her skin and bone structure, as it was designed to do. Along with the customary five-year vPort upgrades, she also had to suffer through silicone membrane upgrades as well. That meant every five years Cheyenne’s entire scalp had to be detached. Doctors folded back the flesh in order for the old membrane to be chipped off, so a new layer of silicone resin could be lacquered onto her skull, after which her scalp was reattached and had to heal again. Cheyenne had an understandably greater reason than her peers to look forward to her permanent vPort upgrade. In three days, thank Jin.

  She was already kicking herself for agreeing to stay late at work, as a favor to a coworker who was getting married that day. The coworker informed Cheyenne she badly wanted to experience her wedding inside the Veil at precisely the same time of day as when the wedding originally took place. That way, she said, she could feel the sunshine on her face while she experienced her vows inside the Veil, just as the sun shined during the wedding. Cheyenne couldn’t blame her for that. It was much like when she snuck away to her private plot, so she should perform every movement of dance inside her Veil as Dominika.

  Besides, Cheyenne informed her coworker, she met a boy, too. After her latest recital of Black Swan, a young man was escorted backstage by her Ballet Mistress. He was a young Russian boy named Vladimir Romanov. Vladimir presented her with not one dozen but two-dozen roses and a diamond bracelet. Cheyenne told her coworker that she simply knew Vladimir was the boy she was destined to marry. And, not because she knew from the vLife synopsis that Dominika Alexandrovna one day became Dominika Romanov, but because she felt it in her heart, as soon as she saw him—before she knew his name. Dominika knew as soon as she saw Vladimir that she loved him, and Cheyenne felt it. So, she told her coworker, she understood the request, and she would stay a little later for her that day.

  She stepped off the train and scurried to her private little dance plot. She figured she had exactly enough time to resume her Veil and enjoy her first date with Vladimir, right after one more practice recital at the new performance venue. Every time their show changed venues, her Ballet Mistress insisted on three dress rehearsals, so that the group could get accustomed to the subtle differences of the stage. Dominika was the only one in the group who didn’t complain. She cherished every moment that provided her with an opportunity to dance, even if merely a dress rehearsal. It didn’t matter to her, because she was dancing. Cheyenne equally lived for those moments.

  Cheyenne rushed over to the faded yellow line, plopped down with her bag next to her, and removed her shoes. She took off her socks, adjusted the bandages on her feet, and put on a fresh pair. With her mobile vHost strapped to her wrist and cabled-in, Cheyenne took her position in the center of the plot, pressed the button to resume her Veil, and closed her eyes.

  Nothing happened. With her eyes still closed, she pressed the button again. Still nothing happened. She opened her eyes, examined her vHost, and verified everything was as it should have been. She pushed the button again, and nothing happened. Her vHost indicated that her Veil was in session and streaming: the Veil was running. However, nothing was happening. Cheyenne’s Witness wasn’t delivering the Veil to her, so she quickly pushed the button to pause the stream.

  She pushed another button on her vHost and a small plug ejected from the right side of the device. She pulled on the plug and a fiberoptic cable spooled out of her vHost. With the plug in her fingers, she felt around on the vPort implanted in the base of her neck until she located its diagnostic panel. Using her fingernail, she slid open the panel door. Cheyenne plugged in the diagnostic cable and felt it snap into place. The sharp click echoed throughout her head.

  After approximately twenty seconds, her vHost beeped. According to the diagnostics, nothing was wrong with her vHost or her vPort. Cheyenne should have been inside her Veil as soon as she pressed the button the first time. She decided to give it one more shot. She pushed the button on the host, but after a few seconds she stopped the stream because once again, nothing happened.

  The following day, her doctor assured her the issue was li
kely related to all the vPort complications that Cheyenne experienced since birth. He suggested perhaps her skull grew too large for the membrane, which meant the silicone couldn’t map out her entire Witness. He added that maybe there was some other kind of malfunction, which the diagnostics couldn’t detect. It wasn’t unheard of but it was extremely rare. Although he never came across a vPort malfunction in all his sixty years of practice, he did Veil about them in vMed School, so he did consider himself versed enough to deal with one. Fear not, he assured her. Because she was so close to her eighteenth birthday and her final vPort upgrade, he would perform the procedure a couple of days early, and she should be good as new. She wouldn’t even gain any time at her job, because the customary upgrade was figured into her position’s daily time projection.