by Jon Chaisson
Jenn relented with a grin. “Let's set you up while we talk,” she said, and led her to a narrow hallway at the far end of the office. The Mendaihu Archives had been stored in a spacious but ultimately lonely room in one of the inner offices, its databanks lining the west and south wall. The archives themselves could be accessed by any of the terminals at any of the public kiosks lining the main floor, yet some of the more scholarly researchers preferred the private booth terminals on the third floor, near Jenn's office. Still others, whose research stretched towards the higher limits of sensitivity, chose this office and its four privacy booths.
“Do I still merit a Security Level Five clearance?” she asked. “I don't know if I've been demoted. Technically I’m not even on the ARU rolls anymore.”
Jenn nodded. “I checked to confirm your profile right after you called. Still says you're at ICSL5. Most Investigative Clients stay at that level, even if they go freelance like you do.”
“Good to know,” she said, visibly relieved. “Most of this will be about filling in the holes in my current research. I've done most of it at home already, as you can see.” She patted the overstuffed satchel.
Jenn's eyes widened in surprise. “Pashyo, who did you pay off to get SL5 home issuance?” she exclaimed.
“I have a successful investigative agency,” she said. “Simple as that. And it helps to have a Master’s degree in Meraladian spirituality. And I do reiki and soulhealing on the side, so you could say I’ve been keeping busy.”
Jenn goggled at her. Was this the same woman coming in here just over a year ago, stressed out by a case she couldn't handle and a life that she hated? “I am so impressed, Chris!” she said. “And jealous! Kind of makes me wonder why I'm still here in this cave.”
They stopped at a privacy booth at the far the far end of the hallway. Jenn slid a keycard through the slot and opened the door, revealing a room with a large and cold-looking table in the center, with two chairs on each side. Four vidmats embedded on its surface blinked to life, each now blinking a cursor, waiting to be signed on. “As usual,” Jenn started, lapsing into her usual monitor speech, “ICSL5 means you can use all four consoles if you need to, though it does eat up a lot of credit in your yearly membership. I suggest multitasking on two. Cheaper, and about the same speed.”
Christine smiled at her. “Hadn't thought of that, thanks for the suggestion. Where...uh...” She searched the walls of the room for something. Jenn thought she might be looking for an intercom monitor, and pointed up at the ceiling.
“New addition, just last month...smartmics embedded in the ceiling tiles. You need anything, just call out my name and I’ll be paged.” She gestured towards the vidmat pasted above the door. “Two-way security, just so you know.”
“Thanks,” she said. “How long do I have this room for?”
“Two hours. The inboards on the table remind you when your time is almost up. Possibly longer if I can juggle a few people.”
Christine lifted up her hands. “No need to go out of your way. Two is fine for starters. I'll let you know.”
“Jenn, are you there?”
It had only been a half hour when she heard Christine's uncertain call into the air. Jenn pulled on her headset and punched up the room’s vidmat. Her head was sunk low as she leaned heavily over the desk. Papers from her satchel had been strewn in some semblance of order that made sense to no one but herself. When she lifted her head, she revealed a small grin.
“What's up, Chris?” she responded.
“How old are you?”
She frowned at the question. “Twenty-five, why do you ask?”
“Interesting...” she smiled. “Can we talk privately for a moment?”
“Uh...sure,” Jenn said. “I'll meet you back there.” She pulled the headset off and sat there for a moment, wondering what she was up to. Christine did make a habit of investigating the most mundane of avenues with her cases to come up with gems of information, and more often than not she'd solved her cases by way of showing points of view that simply had not been thought of. If she was questioning a link between Jenn’s conception and the last Season of Embodiment, that would not surprise her at all.
She entered the room a moment later. Christine was still leaning over her paperwork and the two open research consoles, fingers drumming nervously at its edges. At Jenn's entrance she lifted her head up, a hand reaching to rub the back of her neck.
“Hey,” she said. “Got a few moments?”
Jenn stood close to the door, and gestured to it. “I really shouldn't be too far from my post for long,” she said. “A few minutes at best. What's up?”
Christine exhaled slowly, glancing away from her. When she looked at her again, all humor had fallen from her face. “Just a few questions,” she said, quietly and a little awkwardly. “Personal in nature,” she added.
Jenn frowned, but assented. “I'll answer if I can.”
Christine nodded. “Fair enough. So. Um. First, do you, or any of your family, have any Mendaihu abilities of any sort? Strong or weak, it doesn't matter. It's just a theory I'm trying out.”
“Not that I know of,” Jenn lied, for a good reason. As a matter of public security, she couldn't know about her older sister's exceptionally strong Mendaihu speak and her role in Governor Rieflin's Special Forces. Or her own abilities for that matter. The less she knew about her own involvement in Vigil, the better. “Speaking for myself, I was very weak at sensing before the Awakening. It's a little stronger now, but I haven't been testing it.”
Christine nodded again. “That's a start,” she said. “Okay...would you ever be willing to be tested for Elder-level Mendaihu training, if that level is ever reached?”
Jenn shrugged. “I doubt I’d get that far, but sure.”
“Good. Next question. Do you know if any of your colleagues, friends, coworkers, anyone close to your age, who are familiar with spiritsensing?”
Jenn frowned at her. “Is this going somewhere?” she asked.
Christine immediately threw her hands up. “I don't mean to intrude on your private life, Jenn. I apologize if I've gone too far.”
“No...” Jenn shook her head slowly. “Just...curious as to what all this has to do with the recent Embodiment.”
Christine's shoulders relaxed. “Another theory of mine,” she said. “It's just something I'm kicking around. You know me.”
Jenn raised an eyebrow at her. “Dare I ask?”
“I’m trying to find a link to not just the Embodiment, but the reasons behind the mass reactions. I'm certain that the previous season of Embodiment affected us more than we even know. A lot of changes this past quarter century…some spiritual, some physical. We as a province became more attuned to the things and events around us, things of spiritual nature. The Shenaihu nuhm'ndah come so close to obliterating the Mendaihu, but they hold back. What was the death toll, nearly thirty thousand on both sides? Goddess, what must have gone through the heads of people back then?”
“I believe 'kill the bastards' was my grandmother's phrase,” Jenn said.
“I wouldn't doubt it,” she said. “And yet, here we are. So willing to go through it all again, in the hopes that it’ll be different this time. Like we’ve accepted that these embodiment seasons as just another part of our lives. Like we’ve accepted that lost lives don’t necessarily mean lost souls. We truly have evolved, Jenn.
“My theory revolves around this change. It's more of a sociological observation than anything else, mind you, but I think I may be able to make sense of it. The aftermath of the last Embodiment was the darkest on record. No citizen of Earth had ever gone through events as traumatizing. But thanks to the spiritual healing of the Meraladians, the surge of faith and belief in the One of All Sacred, and the vigilance of elders, we pulled through. It could have gone the other way, sinking us into decades of fear and distrust, but thankfully it did not.”
“So what does that have to do with me and my age?” Jenn asked.
�
�Your generation was the first born after the last Embodiment,” she said. “And I believe that had more of an effect on you than anyone is willing to admit. There are more Mendaihu your age than there were before that event. Be it recruitment, a change of heart, or simply just a larger and more visible presence. Your generation is more willing to accept what’s going on now than the previous generation. Am I making any sense?”
“Perfect sense,” she said.
“Good to hear that,” she said. “Thank you. This is definitely a good thing.” She nodded again, more to her own thoughts than to her, and suddenly distracted herself with the paperwork cluttering the desk. “I'd like to talk to you about this some more when I have something more concrete,” she added. “When you have the time, of course.”
“Sure,” Jenn said. “Vidmat or landline me, I always check my messages.”
Christine beamed at her, touching her shoulder. “Thanks again. I'll let you get back to work now. Sorry if I interrupted anything.”
“No worries,” she said, and moved towards the door.
“Oh — Jenn? One more thing?”
“Hmm?”
Christine faltered, shrugging awkwardly and tapping the desk with her fingers again. “I’m sorry. This is a weird question and totally irrelevant to what I'm doing, but it’s part of a personal investigation I'm doing for my own purposes. I...um....” She huffed, looking away. “This is going to sound stupid.”
“Ask away,” she grinned. “Believe me, I've heard all of them all here.”
“It's just an observation...but I think there might be a link to what I'm doing.”
“What is it?”
“Are you familiar with the recent graffiti popping up, the 'here lies fate' tags?”
“Uh…” Jenn shivered.
The seemingly harmless question hit her squarely in the gut. What did Christine Gorecki know about these same words Matthew was looking for? She masked her surprise by frowning, acting out a pathetic attempt at confusion. “I've seen it around a few places. Why?”
Christine must have missed her reaction. Instead she merely shrugged, and started looking back down at the console. “Oh, nothing, really,” she said. “If I find anything, I'll let you know.”
“Sure,” Jenn said, and motioned out the door. “I'll be up front if you need me.”
She left the room before Christine could answer. She resisted the urge to call Matthew using the comm implant. She didn't want him to weasel his way into the DRL mainframe, and she certainly didn't want to bring up more questions than she had in her own head already. She sat back down behind her desk and glanced at the security screen; she had left it set at the camera in Christine's room. She watched the woman reading a few articles, stopping suddenly to tap into a console and bring up an old NewsComm feed, compare the two, then write a few notes in the margins of her paperwork. She repeated the process endlessly and flawlessly, so immersed in her work that it would take an alarm to interrupt her concentration. She was the most driven and dedicated private investigator she'd seen in a long while. It would be a shame to have to kick her out of the room in a little over an hour.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Groundwork
Caren reached out for Anando's hand and held it tight as if the action had already become second nature. She shivered, feeling both excited and nervous at the same time. Did she really know this Anando? This younger man at least seven years her junior, whom she’d met only weeks before? Her heart, her soul knew him from ages ago. Her soul not only sang this truth, it vibrated it, and she could not dismiss that sensation. But how did she really know him? Why had they been destined to reunite in this lifetime?
His hand pulsed once in hers, a small sign of affection, peculiar as it was. She smiled in spite of herself, looking into his eyes as she would with any man she might have loved. She looked upon him longer than usual, studying his youthful face, his dark Meraladian eyes, his messy brown-blonde hair. He gazed back at her, not like the lost puppy she'd expected him to be, but with the love of a man with maturity equal to hers, who knew and understood her spirit more than anyone else. She returned the quick hand squeeze, letting a single thread of spirit entwine around him. The reaction had been true and from her heart, even if her mind was screaming otherwise: What are you doing, Caren? You don't have time for this! He's too young! Do you even love this man?
Did she really love him?
Questions, questions...she hated this part of her relationships. She’d warned Anando early on that she’d lost many potential beaus this way. She questioned everything in her life because she craved a kind of stability that the world lacked, almost on a daily basis. Personal things such as her role as a Special Agent for the Alien Relations Unit, to the more mundane things such as why anyone in their right mind would want to go out with such a high-maintenance woman such as herself, spiritual attraction or no.
Not once did he try to prove her wrong.
They strolled through Branden Hill Park, walking aimlessly from one corner to another with no real direction in mind. They’d made their third circuit around the park, and were now nearing the elevated southwestern corner. “Want to sit down a while?” Anando said, his voice soft and kind.
“Sure,” she said, forcing a smile. She led him to a spot underneath one of the large elm trees that lined the upper crest of the park, pulled off her jacket and covered the cool grass with it. She sat down on it, drawing her knees up to her chin, watching the people at the bottom of the hill walking past the subway station entryway. Poor Anando, she thought. Trying so hard. He doesn't deserve this grief.
“Something on your mind?”
She hid a sigh, having expected that question. “The usual,” she said. It had become the all-purpose answer that really meant leave it alone, I'll be okay.
“Oh,” he said, and looked away. Frustrated, confused. “Say,” he continued a moment later, a sudden smile on his face. “What are the odds of you and me going back to your place…”
Caren burst out laughing. “Excuse me?”
He realized his gaffe a moment later and turned a deep red, laughing despite his embarrassment. “You didn’t let me finish, Karzi!”
She reached out and grabbed at his waist, poking at him. “Pashyo, I call you shadhisi once and you take advantage of me! The nerve!” She giggled, tackling him sideways and pulling him to the ground. He retaliated quickly and she let out with a wail of laughter from deep within her spirit, a sharp, unexpected but wholly welcome release. She didn't feel at all self-conscious, didn't care in the least if anyone was watching them behave like love-struck idiots! She felt happy without a reason and embraced the moment fully.
After a few minutes the tickling, wrestling and bursts of laughing came to a stop, the both of them sprawled across her now rumpled jacket, out of breath. She was lying on her side, propped up by one elbow and partly sprawled over him, her right arm resting across his chest. Quietly she watched him breathe for a few seconds, the rise and fall of his chest underneath a black tee shirt. She ran her fingers across his sternum, sensing his heart beating within.
No more questions, she said to herself, and smiled warmly.
Her eyes lifted to his. His eyelids were half closed, complementing the impish grin pasted across his face. He truly was a young boy at heart, even if his spirit was as old as hers. That was good enough for her. Impulse got the best of her and she leaned down, close to his face. He reached up and touched her cheek. No caresses, no movement, just a touch that stayed there, and she shuddered in response. No one — no one! — had ever touched her in quite that way. She felt her cheeks burning. She summoned up the courage, moved closer, and kissed him. A simple kiss on his lips, soft and lingering. And in that span of a moment, she had completely forgotten the world was still there.
She lifted up her head again and looked into his eyes. His beautiful, dark Meraladian eyes that invited her deeper inside his soul, freely and without barrier. She had never felt any emotion so intensely before.
They were both Mendaihu, and they were both recently awakened to the twin-spirited cho-nyhndah, but this was far beyond that. This was primal, this emotion. This came from her, not something she learned or had inherited. This emotion, this love was truly of her own making, and it was beautiful.
“You know I'll say it sooner or later,” she whispered to him, smiling, and he understood completely. He pulled her close and kissed her again.
Sa’im shadha, Karinna, he said within.
No goodbyes. Only a temporary leaving.
She watched Anando walk away, heading down the hill towards the Branden Hill Park subway entry. He had offered to walk her to whatever destination she had needed to go in once they left the park, but she had politely declined. As much as she wanted him to stick around, as much as she wanted him to always be beside her, logic and safety had come out ahead in that race. He would not be welcome, at least not at first, where she was headed. Still, she cherished the time they'd spent today. She longed for the next time already, and she laughed at herself for thinking such things. This was totally unlike her in every way.
She watched him walk all the way down the hill, stop momentarily about thirty feet from the subway station, and turn to wave. She smiled and waved back, amused by this situation: here she was, a good distance away and waving like she was seeing him off on a voyage to the vast reaches of space. It was corny poetry, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. On impulse she blew him a kiss. He reacted comically by jerking his head back as if hit full force by it before returning the gesture. Pashyo, he was such a silly, lovable man!
As she watched him enter the subway terminal, it occurred to her that he hadn’t finished what he had been about to ask her before she’d interrupted him. It must not have been all that important, as he hadn’t brought it up again, but she was curious now. Perhaps his thoughts had been leaning towards a more physical action after all? She smirked and shook her head at the mere thought. Going at it like teenagers again! The idea did have merit.
