Lost Past

by Teresa McCullough

  Linda’s turn was next. In spite of Wilson’s calm acceptance and John’s reassurance, she was frightened, but saw no point in fighting. Before she sat down, Brown Hair pulled off her t-shirt, leaving it hanging behind her on her bound wrists. She was glad she was wearing an opaque bra. Reidar adjusted the head restraint to a comfortable height. The shoulder hurt, but the head didn’t. She saw that Wilson looked at a blank wall, rather than staring at her.

  All the while, Brown Hair and the old man were arguing. It meant nothing at first, but suddenly, it was clear. Brown Hair said, “. . . all the people who know where they sent the duplicates of the information Mason carried. Mason lied. He wasn’t the only one who heard Zhexp divulge what the Plict don’t want leaked.”

  “You were excessive, Hernandez,” said the old man. Brown Hair, whose name was apparently Hernandez, was distracted by watching Cara, whose turn it was.

  I’m stripped to my bra and Wilson looks away, Linda thought. Cara has every man staring at her. Her bra was lacy and nearly transparent, not needing much support for her tiny breasts. Linda felt guilty about such petty thoughts, glad no one could read her mind. Cara looked like she was miserable, making Linda feel sorry for her, genuinely regretting her pettiness, for Cara’s sake, not just for her own self-image.

  “Hernandez?” Wilson said to the brown-haired man while Cara was receiving the shoulder treatment. Linda assumed the questioning tone was Wilson’s uncertainty of the name. “Why did you kill Mary Chen?”

  Linda realized he was talking in Vigintees and that she understood it. She recognized she started understanding it when the disk was put on her head.

  “Mary Chen is dead?” the old man asked, clearly not happy with the news.

  “She attacked us,” Hernandez replied.

  “Mary couldn’t have weighed ninety pounds. She was no threat to anyone,” Linda replied angrily, speaking Vigintees. If Mary died the day before, would she feel as much grief?

  “Why do you care if she’s dead, but not all the passengers on the plane?” Wilson asked the old man.

  There was no response from the Vigintees, but Linda replied, guessing wildly, “Because she’s Dad’s wife.” After she said it, she realized it made sense. Mary was unimportant by herself. She was a tenured professor at a prestigious college, with a dozen or more papers in peer-review journals, while people told Linda repeatedly that her father was the brightest physicist in the world.

  “Linda Saunders?” the old man asked. When she nodded, he ordered Hernandez, “Free her.” Hernandez reluctantly released her bonds. “We didn’t mean to do you harm. I am Baldur, by the way. I am sorry if you’ve been frightened. And Mary Chen’s death was not intended. My condolences for the loss of your stepmother.”

  Linda hastily pulled her shirt over her head. “Mary was no threat. I don’t think any of us are,” she said as she rubbed her wrists, looking pointedly at Hernandez. He took her look as a challenge and freed John’s and Wilson’s hands, but left Cara stuck in the chair with her hands still bound.

  “Talking to the animals?” A woman stood in the doorway. She looked like every other woman they had seen on this planet, but somehow, she was more beautiful. The slight genetic variations that made up the limited gene pool made attractive features, but hers were radiant. Her complexion was flawless, and she wore a bright blue scarf that emphasized the blue in her eyes, but otherwise was dressed in the universal beige pants and shirt.

  “This is Katrine,” said Baldur. “John Graham’s wife.”

  “Ex wife,” Katrine said.

  “Do you remember her?” Wilson asked John.

  John shook his head, showing no emotion.

  “How convenient. Forty years ago, I was the love of your life. Ten years later you divorce me, and now you don’t even remember.”

  “Is that Earth years or wherever-we-are years?” Linda asked.

  Katrine gave her a spiteful look and said a few words that Linda translated as profanity.

  Baldur seemed to wince at the profanity, but ignored it as he explained, “There are about twelve Vigintees years for every thirteen Earth years.” Roughly even, Linda thought.

  Katrine turned on Baldur angrily. Linda decided that she did everything angrily. “You talk to the animals.”

  “And we talk back,” said Linda.

  “Only because we put it into your brains. You are still animals.”

  “My father spoke Vigintees. Was he an animal?”

  Before Katrine could respond, Hernandez belatedly looked at Wilson’s empty holster. “Where’s your gun?”

  “On a chair in Schwartz’ office. I started to draw, but you had the drop on me, so I left it there,” Wilson lied.

  “I don’t remember hearing it fall,” Hernandez said.

  “Six inches to a padded chair?” Linda was glad he didn’t mention Eric’s presence.

  Hernandez aggressively searched Wilson who stood as still as possible, his hands held negligently in the air. The unaccustomed weight of the gun in Linda’s purse seemed to shout the presence of the weapon, but she said nothing.

  When the gun wasn’t found, Hernandez said, “It’s interesting to know there is an FBI agent who’s a coward.” Wilson managed to look bored. Linda realized he wasn’t going to let insults visibly affect him.

  Meanwhile, Katrine walked over to Cara, who was still immobilized. She put a finger on her bra and pulled the material slightly. She leaned over and looked at Cara. Her mouth curled in contempt. As she started to say something, Cara coughed in her face.

  Katrine jumped back and wiped off her face with her hand, hissing, “Animals! Zhexp, come with me.” John hesitated, but she grabbed his arm and he went with her, after glancing a mute apology to Cara and Linda.

  After Cara was processed, Hernandez freed her hands. Linda pulled a tissue out of her purse for Cara, carefully searching with her hand while the purse was almost closed so not to show the gun, while succinctly bringing her up to date on the conversation she missed since she didn’t understand Vigintees while it took place.

  Baldur first took the three of them to a kiosk in a hallway, which had clothing. “You have shoes,” he said, looking at their feet. He scanned them with something and a screen printed some numbers. Linda read them in base six and realized the translation disk translated the numbers into base ten. Arithmetic would be weird because the translation might interfere with her understanding.

  Baldur picked some clothing from open bins, giving two sets to each of them. As an afterthought, he mouthed some words and more numbers flashed. He picked up another two sets of clothes, which he handed to Wilson. “For Zhexp,” he said. When Wilson looked puzzled, Baldur explained, “That’s John Graham to you.”

  The clothes were beige, similar to all the other clothes Linda saw. They had the softness of frequently washed cotton, but were made of a sturdy knit fabric. Some pieces were faded, and appeared to be older. Linda noticed the scarves on a few of the people they passed. The scarves were too varied to indicate rank or occupation.

  Baldur then led Cara, Wilson, and Linda to a tiny, windowless apartment. A narrow passageway led through two couches, with three indentations for seating on each side, slightly offset, which would allow a bit more legroom. Behind the chair room was a bedroom containing three narrow, stacked beds on one wall, containing storage space below each bed. The space between the beds was too small for someone to sit up in bed. There were six empty cabinets opposite the triple bunk. There was a tiny bathroom with three cups hanging from the wall near the sink. The couches had an airplane-like tray that swung in from above. Baldur showed them how to use the plumbing. There was also an exercise machine in a claustrophobically small room.

  After he left, Cara said, “I’m not feeling very well. Do you mind if I sleep?” After assuring them that the kick had probably not caused any internal injuries, she retired to the lowest cot.

  Wilson used the bathroom to change out of his suit and into the pants Baldur gave him. They were too
short, showing several inches of calf. He didn’t put on the shirt, allowing Linda to observe his muscular frame. He paid no attention to her while he worked out in the exercise room, although she watched him for several minutes. Linda saw his facial features gradually relax. She realized he was working out his anger, which he never displayed. She never watched sports, but found herself enjoying the display of strength and endurance. He looked up at her once after several minutes and she turned away in embarrassment.

  Although Cara didn’t bother changing, Linda decided to change out of her jeans. She rinsed her underwear, hoping the bra would dry by morning, whenever morning was here, because her new clothing didn’t include a bra. When she was done, Cara was asleep. Wilson was still exercising.

  Linda lay in bed for some time before she slept, wondering about John. Where was he now, and what was he doing? She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that he was once married, considering his age. But she was surprised, especially since he married someone as obnoxious as Katrine. Linda wondered if she ever really knew him.

  CHAPTER 8

  Katrine took John to an apartment that made his Earth apartment look large. She gave him a chance to look it over, small as it was. One wall had two shelves with the lower one being a desk and the upper one storage. There appeared to be no bed, until he realized the desk was part of a Murphy bed where the shelves would swing out to become supports for the bed. Nothing stood out from the wall, because the next apartment would have a similar, mirror image arrangement. There was a table and a second chair that John judged would need to be moved to use the bed. A recliner with a small side table took most of the remaining space.

  A storage unit was built along one entire wall, decorated with art, drawn with little talent and less taste. There was a prominent picture of Katrine painted in the center. Without being told, he realized the two doors at the other end of the room led to a bathroom and a closet-sized exercise room.

  The design of the room was efficient, but the decorations made John realize he underrated motel rooms and even poster-decorated dorm rooms. She expected a compliment, and he surprised himself by saying and meaning it, “It’s spacious for one person. You’ve done well.”

  One portion of the storage shelves contained a refrigerator the size of a single shelf in a normal refrigerator. She served him a couple of strawberries as if they were caviar and cold water as if it were wine. John pulled the desk chair over to the table.

  “How could we be divorced for thirty years?” he asked. “I didn’t think I was old enough.” His driver’s license said he was thirty-four, although his mirror told him he was ten years younger. Remembering Linda’s comment suggesting he was older, he realized he believed it, not because he had an older body, but because his knowledge and attitudes were more consistent with an older person.

  He didn’t remember Katrine, but there was a trace of familiarity. He believed there was once something between them, but the emotion wasn’t there.

  “You’re almost sixty,” she said. “We’re much better than the animals you seem to like. We live years longer and look young until we are past eighty.”

  “Tell me about us,” he said, making himself feel he cared for her, knowing it would be visible in his voice and eyes. He hid his satisfaction when he realized she fell for it.

  “I could marry anyone, but you intrigued me. You were genetically engineered to do something on Earth, given a different education from the start, studying biology, chemistry, and medicine. I thought that was exciting and you thought I was exciting.” As she told him about their courtship, he understood what she didn’t say as much as what she said. She was beautiful, and for all his special education, he was naïve. She wanted him and decided to get him. “You were only eighteen and so madly in love with me, you insisted we marry.

  “You thought it was unfair for me to be without love for your long absences, which made you suggest an open marriage. It was years before you could bring yourself to have a relationship with anyone else, but I thought it was unfair that, when we were separated, I have the benefit of a sexual life and you not.” She strayed, I found out, then I looked elsewhere, John interpreted. He realized she believed he had amnesia or she wouldn’t lie.

  He couldn’t tell if his deductions came from his intelligence or memory, since he was remembering things about this place. Vigint City. He knew the name. It wasn’t really a memory, he realized, but background knowledge, like how to use a computer. No specific memories returned, but he knew that the exercise equipment behind the door was attached to the wall, and how much exercise a person did each day was monitored; everyone was required to average two hours a day. No wonder he exercised so much with Arthur.

  “But then you decided you wanted to live there permanently. You always enjoyed slumming, but I never understood how you could live with the animals.”

  “Perhaps I didn’t consider them animals,” he said, keeping his temper. “Why did I leave?” When she hesitated, he added, “For that matter, what did I do when I was on Earth?”

  “It was Plict business,” she said in a shocked tone. For her, that settled it, and John’s initial reaction was that it did for him too. No, he had a right to know. It was his life, and he knew once.

  “Hernandez and his clones were involved, but I never knew the details. I asked you why you were leaving, and all you said was you were going to Earth to make reparations.”

  She was lying about not knowing, but there was no point in confronting her, since he suspected she had other knowledge he wanted and antagonizing her wouldn’t help him get it. “Tell me about Hernandez and his clones.”

  “You disappointed the Plict,” Katrine said. “You were in your mid-twenties when they decided you weren’t the right tool. They took some of your genetic material and altered it to make Hernandez.” She had a dreamy look on her face, which made him wonder if Hernandez was her lover. He decided he was.

  “By the time he was eight, they knew he was what they wanted, so they cloned him. Alvar, Franz, Goran, and Teo were raised together and always follow Hernandez. They go to Earth and do things for the Plict,” she said.

  There was no point in asking what they did. “What’s with the brown hair?”

  “That was done when he was a teenager because blonds are so noticeable in many places on Earth. It’s permanent, but not genetic. He likes to be noticed, which is why he changed his name to something not Swedish.”

  “Swedish?”

  “The Founding Foundlings were Swedish. The Plict give us Swedish names. Yours isn’t. The Plict gave us all our names, but yours was special. Zhexp is a Plict name.”

  John wasn’t yet comfortable with the name John Graham, but didn’t find Zhexp any more natural. Perhaps it was significant that he didn’t consider it less natural.

  The Swedish names took on a different significance now. Didn’t pandas get Chinese names and lions African names in American zoos? Did the name Zhexp make him an honorary Plict? That seemed almost blasphemous.

  He led the conversation to other matters, asking her what she did since his absence. As she talked, he gradually concluded she was stupid. He wondered how he could love a stupid woman, but he may not have cared when he was eighteen. As she told him about her bureaucratic job and the minor happenings in her life, he realized that she didn’t have enough challenges to develop intelligence. For all the technology and advances in this society, there were no real difficulties to overcome. There was little crime or real production. People wore identical clothing and mainly ate identical food. Wealth meant moving to a two hundred square foot apartment and strawberries, but poverty had food, safety, and shelter. She was at least sixty years old and lived in a world as unvarying as a prison.

  A few questions led him to the knowledge that was hidden in his mind. Even children were not the reward given to successful people, since the Plict controlled the breeding. Every Vigintees, male and female, was sterilized. Fertile eggs were implanted in women’s wombs. Although people sp
oke of these as their children, they had no way of knowing if they really were their biological children. There was no evolutionary advantage to be intelligent.

  “Did we have children?”

  “No, I didn’t want to raise them alone. But we can have them now.”

  On Earth, that would be a sexual advance. Here, it meant applying to the Plict.

  “You want children?” he asked.

  “Oh yes. Next year, I’ll be too old. I wanted you to come back and help me. We could marry again.”

  Again, there was a flicker of something she was concealing. “Katrine, what aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing.” She flinched away from him.

  He wanted to grab her and shake it out of her, but he pushed his anger aside and used his best clinical manner. He modulated his voice to soothe her and spoke in a hypnotic tone, “Just relax. You are tense, but that will go away. Let me massage your shoulders.” He went behind her chair and worked on her shoulders and neck, saying soothing things while he did so. His motions seemed familiar, as if he had done this before. He felt her muscles relax, and after several minutes, he got her into a state where her barriers were down.

  She finally started talking. “I wanted to prove to you that you didn’t care. You thought you did. You really didn’t. You couldn’t. I called you and you came. You came for me, which proved you cared. We were to meet near the school because you had to drive past it. The bomb went off and you weren’t supposed to stop. It would prove you didn’t care. They were animals. But you stopped. You must be crazy. No one risks themselves for animals.”

  “But I did stop.” His hands stopped working during this speech. He had a fleeting urge to hurt her, but he clenched his fists and kept silent.

  “You didn’t care enough about me. You wanted me to wait. If you loved me, you would have come to me,” Katrine said, believing the absurdity.

  He tried to understand how she could believe he wouldn’t stop to save lives. Did she know him so little, or did he assume too much about himself? He was unsure of what kind of person he was before his amnesia, but his stopping to help proved something he approved of.