by VK Fourstone
“Download interrupted. We’ve lost the signal. The signal’s back.” Link exchanged curt phrases with Red Beard.
“Test number two. Increasing power output to four kilowatts.” Link made a second attempt, recording everything on the Dictaphone.
The second attempt was unsuccessful too.
“Test three. Maximum battery power at six kilowatts.” Link turned the switch again.
Pascal jerked abruptly, the suddenness of it frightened the guys and they pressed him down harder against the seat. Pascal tried to shout something and groaned harshly. But this attempt failed, too.
Red Beard took a tee-shirt out from somewhere, folded it silently into a gag and stuffed it in Pascal’s mouth. Frightened, Pascal writhed about in the seat like a grass-snake. He couldn’t see anyone or understand what was happening to him because the helmet covered his eyes.
“Link, let me give him an injection to make him sleep!” Isaac shouted.
“No, don’t! We’re not getting anywhere as it is. When he’s asleep, there’s less chance, his brain became active just now and his magnetic field strengthened. So we’ll have to wake him up.”
“Is it working for us?”
“No. The power’s too low. Bikie, quick, remove the backup car battery and bring it over. Isaac, climb up on the roof and install the range finder higher than the fence, point it at the biggest window in the building. Quick, before your friend goes totally gaga!”
Two minutes later they were all back together.
“Some might not get a second chance. Let me fill you in on the situation. Last time we almost succeeded in returning his OE, now I’m going to double the power. That’s slightly more than the calculated safe level. I don’t know for certain what will happen to his brain afterwards. He could even die. So if anyone is against it, speak up now. I think it is worth a try.”
“Go for it!” said Bikie, large drops of sweat streaming down his face. “Let’s take a chance!”
“Sorry…!” Isaac groaned and pressed Pascal down harder against the seat.
“Twelve kilowatts. Go!”
Isaac slapped Pascal on the cheeks and he woke up, trying to escape. Everyone expected crackling and sparks, heat discharge, groans and convulsions, but it was all quiet. No sound followed as the energy finally smoothly went in. As everything was done, or, at least, it seemed so, Pascal immediately fell unconscious again.
Trying to subdue his jitters, Red Beard dashed to put back the car battery. Isaac carefully removed the helmet and Bikie stuck some ammonia under Pascal’s nose. Pascal opened his eyes and looked at the people staring at him out of breath, his gaze gradually focusing.
“Pascal, how are you?” asked Isaac, trying to give him a drink of water.
“Isaac, is that you?”
“Yes, yes, it’s me. How are you?”
“My head hurts… and I feel dizzy. My whole body’s tingling and I can’t move.”
“I’m sorry, Pascal, you’re tied down.”
“What for? What’s happening to me? Where are we anyway? My head’s itching! On the inside. As if insects have got into it.”
His mouth was dry and his tongue wouldn’t obey him. “What rubbish,” Pascal thought, “your head can’t itch on the inside.” Focusing his attention on the other people leaning down over him, Pascal made out an elderly man with a beard whom Pascal had never met before but the face seemed vaguely familiar. And a peculiar face it was! Its expression kept changing all the time, from attentive and tense to bursting with delight. The man lit up a cigar, glancing at Pascal with an impish smile.
“Seems like it worked then?” another stranger enquired. “Did you get that quip about insects?”
Pascal turned his gaze to this man, a young, unshaven lout covered in tattoos. Although his head was still spinning, Pascal realized that, other than Isaac, these were people he didn’t know.
Intent eyes studied Pascal’s pupils, the elderly man’s fingers tapped at his cheeks and then took his pulse. Pascal felt these touches and they left behind a trail of pinpoint prickling.
“Pinpoint prickling. What a strange term, what could it mean,” Pascal said to himself.
“He seems to have come round,” the unshaven guy said.
Pascal heard that absolutely distinctly. His head felt as if it was filling up. If it was a kettle, then this would probably be the sensation of the water coming under pressure from the tap, roaring down, seething and glittering, gradually filling the empty space.
“Tell me, Pascal, can you picture a pink sunset on a sandy beach?” Isaac asked.
“What a strange question,” Pascal thought.
“Come on, Pascal, try and concentrate. Can you?” Isaac insisted.
Pascal nodded. The three men in the truck broke into jubilant exclamations, hugging and congratulating each other.
“What are you gaping at? Congratulations, you are not a dumbo any longer!” The lout rubbed his hands together, took his gloves off and slapped Pascal on the shoulder.
“You can get up gently. I’ll untie you now,” the elderly man said with a broad smile.
“What’s happening to me and where am I?” Pascal’s own voice mumbled feebly.
“Your old friend will tell you all about that. He’s bursting with impatience already. There, look for yourself,” said the lout, gesturing indefinitely to one side.
Pascal tried to turn in the direction indicated, but he felt a prick and sank back into sleep.
“Let him sleep for a while. His brain is overstressed. He needs a rest now. Bikie, help to untie him. If we get stopped, God forbid, we’ll have a hard time explaining why we have someone tied up to the seat in the van.”
“OK, one moment,” said Bikie, deftly unfastening the straps.
“I’ll sit with him for a while, and you drive,” said Isaac, moving his friend’s head to a more comfortable position. “How long will he be sleeping?”
“About three or four hours,” Link replied. “Half the way there. Then you’ll have time to fill him in on what’s happening.”
It was preferable to get back before the administrator became seriously concerned. The risk wasn’t very great, but the less time she searched for Pascal, the better. It would be good if she didn’t call the police. Pascal’s mobile phone was here, charged. If she called, Pascal would say he was all right.
After a sleepless night and the nervous strain, the monotonous journey exhausted Isaac and he fell asleep. He was woken by someone tugging on his sleeve. It was Pascal.
“Isaac, where are we?” he asked.
“Are you awake? Well, thank God. In principle, you ought to be as quick-witted as you were before. You just need to rouse yourself a bit, have a coffee. Right now it’s like you’ve woke from a dream, plus you’re reacclimatizing.”
“Who are these people?”
“This is Bikie. And there’s Professor Link himself,” Isaac said with a smile. “We’ve brought you back from being a Happy.”
“From where?”
“Have you forgotten? You became a Happy. Now you’re normal again,” said Isaac, beaming. “My God, Pascal, I can’t believe it’s you again.”
“Isaac, I don’t remember how I got here. Where are we going, and just what has happened?”
“It’s hard to explain. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I remember going to the Agency. And where’s Eva? Why isn’t she here?”
Isaac went silent, bewildered. Those questions sounded a bit strange, especially the one about Eva.
“Pascal, do you remember your swanky house?”
“What house? You mean the apartment?”
“Hang on a moment, I’ll explain everything.”
This was troubling. Could it be from the sleep? Or the download operation? Isaac shook Link awake and shared his ideas with him. Link frowned and sat down beside Pascal.
“Pascal, I’m Professor Link. Yes, yes, that professor. You were a Happy. Yesterday evening we transferred your OE back
into you. Do you remember what year it is, or the date?”
“Of course, I do.” Pascal confidently named the date when he parted from his creativity. “I downloaded my creativity yesterday. You don’t forget that kind of thing.”
“Hmm, I see. You have amnesia, Pascal… Isaac, stay with him, I want to check a few things.”
Isaac didn’t know what to say or how to behave with someone who had lost his memory. Maybe if Pascal wasn’t a Happy any longer, and could think clearly, it was best to tell him exactly how things were? He would have to learn the truth anyway.
“Pascal, it’s two years since that happened.”
“Two years since what happened?”
“Since the day you went to the Agency.”
“What? Are you making fun of me?”
“Hang on, let me tell you everything in the right order. I’ve got a bottle of old whisky ready. Will you have some?” Isaac pulled the bottle out from under the seat.
Pascal nodded.
“If you are up for a drink, you’re definitely not a Veggie anymore. It looks like we’re in for a very long conversation,” Isaac said with a sad smile.
The conversation ahead would prove a lot more difficult than expected. Two years of amnesia is no joke. Isaac had to try to jolt Pascal into remembering something. And it was really important to figure out the reason for his loss of memory.
Link sat down beside them. He was holding a downloading helmet, which as they now knew, could also be used for re-inputting OE. A few new little wires had appeared on it.
“Pascal, I need to take a tomographic image of your brain. To see if there’s any damage, tumors or any other anomalies. We have to find out the reason for your amnesia.”
The professor put the helmet on Pascal’s head and attached various sensors to it.
“Try to move as little as possible. That way the image will be sharper.”
Link ran various tests, took notes and compared diagrams. Half an hour later he had finished and disconnected all the wires.
“There’s good news, very good news and bad news. Which shall I begin with?”
“The bad news,” said Pascal, alarmed.
“I don’t think we can call your loss of memory amnesia. You won’t recall anything, because… because you don’t have any memories of the last two years. The good news is that your brain couldn’t be in a better shape. It’s absolutely fine. We didn’t damage it during the input process. The right hemisphere, left hemisphere, and cerebellum – they’re all perfect. And the very good news is that your level of creativity has not changed, you got back everything that you had before.”
“What’s the conclusion?”
“There are several. As far as you’re concerned, you’re absolutely healthy. The input process works magnificently. But you don’t have any memories from your period as a Happy as if you’d been in a deep sleep. You could say – and I congratulate you – that you have emerged from a long-term coma. Since the brain is fine, I’m sure the loss of memory is a consequence of being a Veggie.” The professor started pondering. “I’ll have to make sense of that myself.”
“But what about the two years?”
“Forget them for now. But then, you don’t remember them anyway. It’s strange, of course. You should just live and enjoy life and be thankful we’ve pulled you out,” said the professor, glancing at Isaac in concern.
“Be thankful to you? You’re the one who invented all this! It’s all because of you.”
“Pascal, please, calm down. The professor’s a member of our team. That’s why he’s here. And our common objective is to put things right,” said Isaac, also trying to assimilate what had happened to Pascal.
“But I lost two years!”
“Some people have lost seven. And they will lose even more if we don’t intervene. We’re acting illegally. No one forced you to download in the first place. And you were paid a whole heap of money. What’s important now is that you are well. Consider that you’ve been reborn. Or survived a global catastrophe.”
“Have some whisky, you’ll feel better,” said Bikie, handing Pascal a plastic cup.
“Thanks.” Pascal sipped the whisky and winced, the taste was so unfamiliar now. But the atmosphere warmed up a bit.
Isaac really wanted to discuss their discovery with the professor and Bikie. But he talked to Pascal all the way back, telling him what had happened during his effective absence. About how the world had changed even more, how it was still averaging down and getting more boring. Pascal listened in silence. The longer Isaac spoke, the gloomier Pascal became, as he realized how much time had really flown by.
“I’m sorry, but you’ve missed a lot. Everything’s averaging down, total globalization is continuing. The main obstacle – the language barrier – has almost been erased. There’s a modern electronic interpreter far classier than the ones that used to exist. You stick a wireless earpiece in your ear, and away you go. No problems. Go to Japan if you like. Go to Peru.”
“There are plenty of different pluses, but problems have come up too.”
“Happies’ children are born without any OE, for example. The most terrible thing is that the Agency doesn’t have any opposition. There are individual dissidents, but until yesterday evening, no one had a single proof.”
Isaac told Pascal about how he had gone to download his own OE, but, in the end, had not done it. How he got to know Bikie and how they had found Link. Pascal listened attentively. He didn’t remember anything and he was horrified. Two years cancelled out of his life. Isaac told Pascal how he behaved when he was a Veggie. Calm, polite, always smiling and not interested in anything. He showed Pascal the video taken with the web camera.
“And where’s Eva?” Pascal asked warily. He had obviously wanted to ask that for a long time, but couldn’t bring himself to.
“I’m sorry, Pascal. But Eva left you ages ago.”
“Left me? What does that mean? But when? You mean, she… dumped me?”
“No, she just left. I’m sorry.” Isaac was still apologizing as if he were to blame for something. “You haven’t been together for a long time.”
“What about me? Did I try to do anything? Stop her?”
“No. Nothing bothered you. Absolutely nothing! My Vicky needed an operation and I was flat broke. You told me to take a walk.”
“Vicky needed an operation? What’s wrong with her?” Pascal asked in alarm.
“Yes, Pascal, she did. And she still needs it badly now. It was because of her I went to the Agency to download. But before that I came to you, a millionaire, and you gave me nothing. Your contract said you weren’t supposed to, you see.”
Isaac finally poured out everything to Pascal. Everything that had seethed up inside. He ran through all his unsuccessful attempts to persuade Pascal. He told his dumbstruck friend about his resentment, all the sore points, and he had accumulated a lot of emotions.
“Isaac,” said Pascal, rubbing his neck: the mark from the sedative injection was no longer visible, but it still hurt a bit, “please forgive me and thank you, my friend, for saving me. Give me the number of your account at the hospital and I’ll pay off everything today. I’ll have a lot of other things to make right, too. I’m sorry I keep asking, but where is Eva now?”
“She’s still living in Monaco. Only she doesn’t mingle and party anymore. She got herself a job.”
That day at lunch the administrator did call the Agency after all. She saw the note from her ward and decided to seek advice. The elderly woman realized immediately that Pascal hadn’t spent the night at home: the bed was still made up from the previous day, the TV remote control was in the wrong place, and the same food as yesterday was still on the shelves in the fridge. He definitely hadn’t gone to bed and he hadn’t eaten breakfast…the first time in two years. Her other wards had never disappeared like this, and they always laid out all their things neatly in the right places.
She didn’t go to the police since Pascal hadn’t disappea
red after all, and he answered her call. He said he was OK and would be back soon.
After spending half a day with the team at Wolanski’s place, at almost five in the evening, staggering slightly, Pascal went home. To a home that he didn’t recognize. Half of the bottle of whisky he had drunk with Isaac was sloshing about in his stomach and raging fury with the Agency had matured in his head. For the lost years, for the loss of Eva, for being awoken purely by chance. He transferred the money to the hospital account as the first step in correcting the mistakes he had made. It was the very least he could do for the time being. Link had carried out another dozen measurements and tests and was finally convinced that he was right: Pascal was healthy, and the amnesia was the result of being a Happy.
Approaching the villa, he saw through the window the anxious administrator in the sitting room. He didn’t remember her, but he recognized her from Isaac’s description: constantly red face, plumpish, with grey hair in a bun. Pascal opened the door and walked in, glanced round at his home, at his computer, which had obviously not been touched for a long time, and at his “nanny”, who wanted to ask him something, and walked into the bedroom without saying a word.
The administrator, astounded by the smell of alcohol, called the Agency and told them everything was alright, the Happy had come home.
6
That evening at the villa, Isaac’s team triumphantly celebrated their great victory. Initially, he wanted to invite Peter, but then changed his mind. First, he had to discuss everything with the professor and Bikie.
After uploading Pascal's creativity, the Professor changed a lot. He joked, inspired by a successful experiment. He happily agreed to move on, namely to hack one of the Einsteiner's servers and return orange energy to thousands of Happies. The Professor wasn't trying to defend the benefits of his invention anymore agreeing that the loss of memory is a good enough reason to turn it all around. But at Pascal’s villa, there was only Pascal himself, alone with his second bottle of whisky. He could have joined Isaac later, when it got dark and the administrator has left, but he wasn’t in the mood. He was drinking alone and did not want anyone anywhere near him. Apart from the girl who had left long ago.
