KINRU

by Stuart J. Whitmore

  "Not that it makes any difference," Corlane said to himself quietly as he settled into his seat. "Not sure why I felt the need to sit here instead."

  As the transport moved through the city toward Corlane's home, he stared out the window without paying much attention to the scene the passed before his eyes. It was nothing new, just the same old thing. A couple times he turned his head a small amount to make sure that the man sitting behind him was not approaching him, but that man also seem to be lost in thought as he stared out the window.

  By chance Corlane noticed the corner of a piece of paper that had been shoved between the seat in front of him and the wall of the transport. Curious, he reached forward and pulled the paper out to look at it.

  "Well," he said after a moment, "what are the chances of that?"

  The paper in his hands was an old-style advertisement for a medoc. In shaky handwriting on one side of the advertisement, somebody had written the word "Savior." From the text of the advertisement, Corlane could tell that the medoc was one who specialized in using nontraditional and possibly bogus methods to treat a wide range of behavioral problems. One of the listed areas of specialty was sleep disturbances.

  "If I was a religious man, I would think this was a sign," Corlane said to himself.

  "Why you talking to yourself?" a male voice sounded directly behind him, making Corlane jump.

  Corlane turned to see the man had moved up from the back and was now standing in the aisle between the seats. "I just do sometimes, it's not that unusual," Corlane said with a dismissive shrug.

  "Are you crazy?"

  "No, I'm not crazy," Corlane answered, turning away from the man pointedly.

  "You look rich," the other man observed after a moment. "Are you rich?"

  Corlane did not turn fully to face the man but he did turn his head to one side enough to see the man in his peripheral vision. "Rich is a relative term and there are many ways of being rich," he said. "I would like to be left alone now, thank you."

  "I would like to be rich now, thank you," the man said with an audible sneer. "How about if you share some of your wealth?"

  "I don't think so. I will ask you nicely one more time, please leave me alone."

  "Well I'm not in the mood for asking nicely," the man said.

  A slight rustle of movement gave Corlane all of the warning he needed. He pressed a small button on his side a moment before he felt the man grab his shoulder. The man grunted loudly and let go before falling back into one of the other seats. Corlane stood up and removed a thin filament from its storage slot in his shirt. He used it to bind the man's hands and connect them to a railing on the seat.

  "I am Rann Deryala, and you are under arrest. At the next transport stop you will be removed by police."

  The man seemed to be coming out of a daze as he looked up at Corlane, but he said nothing. Corlane sat back down and looked out the window again. At the next transport stop, the doors slid open and two police officers stepped inside. Corlane pointedly ignored the process as the police removed the man from the transport. When the doors closed again, he was alone. He looked down at the old-fashioned paper advertisement as the transport moved forward once more.

  His evening had already not gone according to plan, and somehow the idea of doing something unplanned like contacting the medoc on the advertisement was appealing. He felt like he did not have much to lose. After several more moments of consideration, he pulled out his communicator and sent a message to the medoc. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or concerned when he got a prompt confirmation from the medoc that Corlane could stop by without an appointment that evening. He got off the transport at the next stop and switched to a different transport route.

  When he finally arrived at the medoc's office, his misgivings grew tenfold. The office was located in an older part of the city lacking much of the infrastructure he normally expected to see. The building itself was grungy, as were the others around it. Clearly the owners were not spending anything for the automated scrubbers used elsewhere in the city to remove accumulated pollution from the exterior walls. The entrance to the building was closed and locked, so Corlane stepped over to the authentication pad. It was an older model that required placing his hand against it and looking into the retina scanner. A few seconds after he did so, he heard the lock disengage inside the door.

  "This is going to be interesting," Corlane said quietly to himself as he entered the building.

  A small and unpleasant-smelling lift that groaned as it moved took him up to the appropriate floor. He stepped up promptly when the doors opened and found himself in a small lobby with cheap looking artificial plants and a badly stained carpet. There were no information screens, so he stepped over to the patient care window. He was mildly surprised to see that there was nobody there and instead he found an ancient bell and a sign advising him to ring it for service. He pressed the button on top twice and waited.

  "Rann Deryala," an old man said as he entered the waiting room from a door on one side. "I wondered when you would take time to meet me."

  "Excuse me?" Corlane said, feeling confused by the man's words.

  "I am Medoc Tsuran," the man said. "I expected you to come see me, I just did not know when."

  Corlane gave a little shake of his head. "Why would you expect me to come see you?"

  The medoc smiled. "Let's talk about that in my office. Come this way." He turned back to the door and opened it. "I was about to head home when I got your message," he continued as he held the door for Corlane.

  Corlane kept his expression blank as he crossed the waiting room to the door the medoc was holding for him. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice," he said cordially.

  "My pleasure," the medoc said as he followed Corlane into the passage on the other side of the door, "I believe it will be to our mutual benefit." He then took the lead to show Corlane the way to his office.

  "Well, I suppose that is the normal outcome," Corlane said after a moment, still feeling very confused. He followed the medoc into his office and took the seat the medoc indicated to him. "What I do not understand, though, is how you could possibly have expected me to visit you when I simply found an old advertisement for you by chance."

  The medoc set down in his own chair behind a large, old-fashioned desk made of some kind of dark wood. The desk was cluttered with a variety of things both old and new. The medoc shoved some of his belongings to one side and then pulled out an archaic paper tablet and what appeared to be a ballpoint pen, although Corlane had never seen one in person so he was not entirely sure.

  "Chance, yes," the medoc said. "Perhaps many things in life seem like chance but are not. Some people more than others experience control that they believe is chance."

  "Control? I don't follow you."

  The medoc nodded. "May I speak with Birkran?"

  Corlane felt his confusion mix with irritation and something else he could not identify. "Excuse me?"

  "Birkran." The medoc leaned forward and met Corlane's gaze directly. "I need to speak with Birkran Kinru."

  Corlane opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again as he suddenly felt dizzy. He leaned back in his chair. The room seemed to spin and go dark, and he felt a powerful need for sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Birkran opened his eyes. He looked about in a panic, and this time his panic did not fade as easily because he had never awakened in his medoc's office before. His medoc sat behind his desk, watching Birkran and nodding slowly. A glance down at his clothes told him which man's bed he should have awakened in. His stomach churning, he tried to meet his medocs gaze.

  "Why am I here? What is happening? Why was the lower door to Rann Deryala’s building locked?"

  "It was locked?" his medoc asked. "That is interesting. I cannot answer that for you right now. And while I understand that you have many other questions, I think they are much less important than you may think. This is an important day for you. I think you have reached a
breakthrough point. Tell me what you remember, Birkran, about how you came to my office today."

  Birkran shook his head violently. "I remember nothing of coming here, the last I remember was not being able to enter that building my normal way."

  The medoc made a soft humming sound. "Perhaps that is the limit of your memory at the moment, but I want you to think deeper and try to remember. Your mind knows how you arrived today, it is just blocking the memory from you. Tell me, what do you remember doing with my advertisement that you asked to take with you?"

  Birkran shook his head again but more slowly this time. "I remember writing something on it, but I don't remember what. I remember leaving it somewhere, but I don't remember where."

  "This place that you left it, would it have been in public or in a private place?"

  "I do not know, Medoc Tsuran! I do not remember."

  "Close your eyes, Birkran," the medoc said. When Birkran closed his eyes he continued, "You say you wrote something on the advertisement. Picture yourself writing on it. Picture yourself looking at what you have written. The memory is there, you just need to access it. What did you write on the advertisement?"

  "I do not remember. I do not remember!"

  Medoc Tsuran sighed gently. "For some reason, you do not want to remember. We will pass the question of what you wrote, now envision yourself setting down the advertisement. Think about what you might have heard at the time. Think about what smells there might have been. You are very sensitive to people watching you, think about whether anybody might have observed you at the time."

  "I don't remember. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe I just lost it," Birkran said, sounding more and more defiant.

  "I am fairly confident that you did not lose it," Medoc Tsuran said. "Try to relax. There is no one here but you and me. You are not being recorded, nobody will judge your words or actions."

  Birkran was silent for several moments. "I think I was on a transport," he finally said. "I think I remember the sounds and smells of a transport. But that doesn't make sense! I don't ride transports. I stay off transports. How could I have left that advertisement on a transport? I don’t ride transports! This is all a mistake!"

  Medoc Tsuran steepled his fingers and once again made a soft humming sound. "Perhaps it was an unusual situation that led you to being on a transport."

  "An unusual situation?" Birkran said angrily, opening his eyes. "You mean like the time when I tried to get into the building where the nice man lives my normal way and could not, and I had to go through the front entrance and face people who thought I was someone else?"

  "Tell me about that experience," the medoc said.

  Birkran shook his head silently for a moment. "It was very uncomfortable. It made me feel sick and dizzy. I think I must look like the nice man, because I think people thought I was him."

  "Who thought that?"

  Birkran gave a little shudder as he remembered the experience. "The guard at the entrance, and a woman who seem to be waiting at the man's door."

  "A woman? And you are sure they thought this? Did they speak to you?"

  Birkran gave a short nod. "Yes, they both did. They did not tell me that I looked like him, they acted like I was him. The woman was particularly persistent. Now I am afraid to return there."

  The medoc nodded quietly for a moment. "You often refer to him as the nice man and the other man as the scary man. If you were to meet the nice man, what would you say to him?"

  Birkran shook his head. "I would not want to meet him. I would not want to meet either of them. If I had to meet either of them, I would not know what to say."

  The medoc paused to make a few notes on his old-fashioned paper tablet with his archaic pen. "Can you tell me why you think the scary man is scary?"

  Birkran shrugged. "Many things. I think he's trying to catch me. His resunit is very different, it is dark and filled with technology. I think he's smart, but he doesn't put his intelligence to good use."

  "Good use," the medoc echoed. "That's interesting. What do you consider good use?"

  Birkran was silent for several moments and then he shrugged again. "I don't know, just things that make me feel good, things that feel right."

  The medoc made another note. "And the nice man, does he do good things?"

  "I don't know," Birkran said, slowly shaking his head. "It is harder for me to get a sense of what he does. What he has in his resunit is there for comfort and entertainment, unlike the other man. Everything the scary man has in his home seems designed for his work, it is all utilitarian."

  "I see. Tell me, Birkran, what do you think of our government and politicians?"

  Birkran gave a nervous laugh. "I tried to stay away from politics."

  "That's not a bad idea," the medoc said with a gentle smile. "Right now it's just you and me, though, so there's no harm in telling me a little about your political views."

  "I try not to form any. Staying away from politics for me is not just about not talking about it, but not thinking about it. I know I am a powerless citizen. I know there is nothing I can do to change how things are run, what rules I must abide by, who was elected, and so on." He scowled. "Why? What does it matter what my political views are? Is this a test of some sort? How do I know that you're not actually recording me? How do I know that you won't turn me over if I say something the government wouldn't like?"

  The medoc sighed with just a hint of irritation. "Birkran, we have had many discussions about trust. I think you would agree, if you are being fair, that I have never given you reason to distrust me. What motivation would I have to record your political thoughts or report them to any authority?"

  Birkran looked away and shrugged. "Money. Money is always a good motivator."

  "Money," the medoc said and chuckled lightly. "It can be a good motivator if one lacks it. I don't think I have ever given you any reason to suspect that I am lacking in money. It is true that my office is not in a high rent district, but I like it here for the solitude and privacy it affords my patients. I assure you, if I wanted a nicer office in a nicer part of the city, I would have no difficulty paying for it. Consider, Birkran: If I was needing money, would I be offering you services at no charge?"

  "Okay, no, probably not," Birkran said. "I don't know what your motivation would be, but that doesn't mean you don't have one. You are right, we have talked about trust, and you know that trust does not come easy to me."

  An amused smile lit the medoc's face. "That is putting it mildly," he said with another chuckle. "All I can really say, though, is that I have no interest in your political views for the sake of politics, but only for the sake of understanding what is happening in your mind. That is why you come to me, remember? To find out what is going on in your mind, to find some peace, to be able to sleep properly, and to put your life back in order. You do still want to do that, correct?"

  Birkran nodded minimally. "Yes. I still want to do that."

  "Then let us move forward," Medoc Tsuran said. "We do not need to get into the details of your political views, but if you could impose significant change on our government, would you want to?"

  Birkran looked at his medoc and raised one eyebrow. "You are pushing the boundaries of my trust, Medoc Tsuran. I'm sure there are things about the government that I would change, but whether those changes would classify as significant is a political question, since that term is relative after all."

  "I can agree with that," Medoc Tsuran said. "Again, we don't need to talk about specifics. But for the changes that you would like to make, how do you think you would approach that? Would you want to seek legal channels, or would you see that path as being futile to achieve what you wanted to achieve?"

  Birkran let out a short and incredulous laugh. "Let's move on from politics, Medoc Tsuran."

  Medoc Tsuran looked irritated and jotted down a few notes in silence. "Very well, Birkran. I am interested in your perceptions of the two men you have been living around. You have never met either one in pe
rson, you can only judge them based on what you find in their resunits when you awaken there. Have you ever tried to research who they are exactly? Do you have anything more to go on other than their belongings and design sense?"

  Birkran shook his head slowly. "No, I just try to leave quickly. I have been lucky to not get caught yet, especially since the scary man is clearly trying to catch me."

  Birkran's medoc raised one eyebrow. "That's interesting. Before you said that you thought he was trying to catch you, and now you seem certain of it. Which is your true feeling?"

  "I don't know," Birkran said with an irritated sigh. "I suppose I am fairly certain of it. He set up monitoring devices that I have to find, disable, and clear of any evidence of my presence there. Why else would he set up those devices if not to catch me?"

  "Okay," the medoc said, nodding thoughtfully. "Would it surprise you, Birkran, if I told you that I know who the men are?"

  Birkran suddenly sat forward with an intent look. "How much do you know?"

  "Well, I suppose that means you are somewhat surprised, and apparently concerned," Medoc Tsuran observed. "How much I know is, as you might say, relative. The nice man, as you call him, is more known to me than the other man. I know his name and his occupation, and with that I can learn much more. The other man is more challenging, but I do have some information about him."

  "Tell me what you know!" Birkran demanded, his voice a mix of anger and apprehension.

  Medoc Tsuran scowled. "I'm not sure that is a good idea yet."

  "I don't care if you think it's a good idea, tell me! I'm your patient, tell me!"

  "Yes, you are my patient," his medoc said, "but that means that I am the professional and I need to make decisions accordingly."

  "What are you hiding from me?"

  "Please sit back and relax, Birkran," Medoc Tsuran said. "I am not hiding anything from you, I am merely guiding you through the process toward the goal that you have confirmed, just moments ago, that you still wish to achieve."