They ring Ruth’s doorbell and wait for her to answer and then fall into formation. When Ruth answers, the one with the tweed cap introduces their troupe as the Valentine’s Day Gents. One of them pulls out a harmonica and pipes them in.
The man removes his tweed cap, clenches it in his hands and then leads the others in You are my Sunshine.
They’re singing their hearts out and Ruth is swooning.
Mission accomplished.
Juliette returns to her garage with her shovel. She can hear My Funny Valentine now. No doubt Ruth will have extracted each of their life stories before they leave and will be telling her all about them tomorrow, with her usual smiling, kind face.
There’s no greater joy you’ll ever feel than the joy you put in someone else’s eyes, her mother always said.
She’s in her home now and out of her jacket, boots and mitts. Joe will be home soon. She needs to make supper. She won’t be doing anything fancy because this is a hard day, because of the accident. Because…
Because…
Oh, there’s no point dwelling.
Instead, she puts on some music. Carrie Underwood.
She is peeling potatoes and singing along.
She is pitch perfect.
Her phone rings. It’s probably Ruth. She races to turn down the music before picking up the phone.
“Weren’t they adorable?”
Um, may I speak to Juliette Tucana, please?
“Oh, I’m sorry. This is.”
Hello, Mrs. Tucana, my name is Dr. Gordon Frick and I am calling on behalf of Earthen Swan Genetics.
“Just a minute…”
Juliette runs to turn down the music some more.
“Sorry.”
As I was saying, Mrs. Tucana, I am Dr. Gordon Frick from Earthen Swan Genetics. I am calling because you applied to enroll in a fertility treatment trial?
“Yes, we did.”
Well, Mrs. Tucana, I am pleased to say that you and Joe have been chosen by our selection committee as potential candidates, if you are still interested, that is?
“…!”
Mrs. Tucana?
“Oh my…oh my…”
Shall I take that as a yes?
“Yes…I mean, yes.”
Wonderful. We are quite pleased. We think that you and Joe will be great candidates. But listen, Mrs. Tucana, there are a few things that I have to explain to you.
“I’m listening. And you can just call me Juliette.”
That isn’t completely true. Juliette is half listening and half dancing.
The first is that the technology involved in this procedure is cutting edge and as safe as any artificial insemination, but because it is so revolutionary there will be strict confidentiality obligations to which you and your husband will have to agree.
“Uh-huh.”
In the meantime, it is important that you and Joe don’t tell anyone more than you and he are being tested for a new fertility treatment without disclosing who we are or our location.
“Did you say artificial insemination, Dr. Frick?”
Yes, I did.
“So this means…I might become pregnant?”
There is a very good chance, Juliette, a very good chance. But we have a lot of screening to do.
“……!”
Juliette?
Dr. Frick is explaining dates, travel arrangements and stipends. Juliette notes the key parts as best she can, but she’s too full of joy to get it all.
…we can send you a package shortly by email that explains everything, if that is all right with you? Or we can have it couriered.
“Email is okay.”
Great. I look forward to meeting you both soon. My contact information is in the email package I just sent. Please call me if you have any questions.
“I will and thank you, Dr. Frick.”
Thank you, Juliette.
The email package is waiting when she logs in. She races through it and fires back her acknowledgment of the confidentiality agreement without reading it, but reads sentences with artificial insemination in them over and over.
Juliette see Joe’s truck roll up and watches him get out. He’s wearing his overalls with drywall dust on them. There’s a contractor’s sign on the truck door.
Tucana Drywall
Galilee, Dakotas
She nearly tackles him after walks in the kitchen.
“Joe, we’ve been chosen.”
His eyes widen.
“Ho-lee.”
He wraps his arms around her.
“They’re sending us tickets and everything”
“Ho-lee…when did you find out?”
“They just called. I’m supposed to go for testing and if it all goes good, he…Dr. Frick…mentioned artificial insemination. Meaning…we might be having a baby.”
Their eyes tear.
“There were a few things that Dr. Frick said we needed to know. First he said that the procedure is so new that we can’t tell anyone about it.”
“Where do we have to go?”
“Las Pecado.”
“Las Pecado?”
“Uh-huh…all expenses paid.”
“Ho-lee…why can’t we tell anyone. Is this safe?”
“Dr. Frick said it is perfectly safe and that we’ll get the best care. Joe, I have a good feeling about this.”
They squeeze each other tight. They kiss.
“Jeez, and here I almost forgot.”
He pulls out a teddy bear holding a heart.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
She smiles and they kiss again.
“Oh dear. I’ve been so excited I forgot about dinner.”
“Huh? What’s this talk about dinner? A mother needs her rest. We’re going straight to Mountain Joe’s.”
Mountain Joe’s is their favorite restaurant.
They go out for dinner and stop at their church on the way home. Being without child and Joe’s accident has been their shame and their sorrow. They both wanted a large family. Their modest salaries would not allow them to fund their own impotency treatments, and their adoption applications went begging.
When they saw an ad that a clinic in Las Pecado was looking for couples for a new treatment, they jumped at the chance. They completed the application forms fully and mostly honestly (Juliette checked all the boxes denying family histories of major health problems) — and prayed for success. They prayed that humble and simple people such as themselves might have a chance.
They went to sleep that night in a long embrace. They would have made love if it wasn’t for…if it wasn’t for…oh, there’s no sense dwelling.
That night, Juliette dreams about her baby. She dreams that her child will bring about a new age. She dreams that she has been chosen to be the mother of this child, that she’s blessed because of it, and that millions will revere her.
Two weeks later, Dr. Frick comes into the examining room wearing his lab coat and holding Juliette’s chart. Juliette sits on the examining bed and Joe sits on a chair. They were taken to the Research Facility by limo from their posh Pecado Hotel, courtesy of Earthen Swan Genetics.
Nice men, Scott and Geoff, have been showing them around.
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Tucana, everything looks good.”
Dr. Frick is flipping through Juliette’s chart. Juliette and Joe lean forward.
“Okay, and now I’m going to tell you a few things that are going to sound incredible, but I can assure you they’re true. First, the bad news…we are sorry, but we can’t make this baby using your DNA.”
“You mean…this baby won’t even be ours?”
“I am afraid so.”
“Heck Dr. Frick, what’s the good news?”
“Okay. Here goes. We are connected with the Church of the Holy Cloth. Have your heard of them?”
“They have the Savior’s burial cloth, but what does that have to do with us having a baby?”
“They have a DNA sample from Yeshua’s burial cloth that we ha
ve been able to reconstruct and believe…we are fully confident…that we can use to make a clone of him. That’s why we’re looking for the right couple. In short, we need someone to be Yeshua’s new parents.”
After a couple of moments of stunned silence, Juliette and Joe look at each other and then reply in unison.
Ho-lee.
Chapter 21:
[Nathan]
Nathan is walking.
The universe is changing.
There is potential energy and there is kinetic energy.
Potential energy is stored energy. It’s money in the bank. Kinetic energy is spending that money. It’s the energy of moving. It’s the go in things.
Nathan’s body is converting stored energy into movement, into go. Chemical change is burning his sugar fuel into muscle contractions. Muscle contractions are propelling him forward.
He’s walking to his car. He’s drinking coffee. He’s carrying a briefcase. It’s afternoon. It’s spring. Solar reactions are converting hydrogen, are causing fusion, are warming Nathan’s face.
It is change. It is dance. It is song.
Nathan is walking faster. The caffeine is speeding his chemical reactions. His brain is burning sugar, is converting it into thoughts. Into emotions.
Thoughts are abstractions. They are frontal lobe construction projects.
Emotions are the coloring that the limbic system adds.
One abstraction is that there is this person whose real name is Jonathan who communicates to Nathan through electronic devices. Who is a computer programmer. Who works for Earthen Systems.
His limbic system adds paint.
Who is someone who shares his preferences. Who understands there is fear. That there is discrimination. That it’s subtle. That it hurts.
Who is his love.
His brain has burnt a lot of sugar-fuel on other abstraction-emotions.
That his employer is involved in something illegal. That there are trust irregularities. That he has an ethical obligation to report it. That he is conflicted about it.
That there is another organization behind it, that is masquerading as a church, that it is breaking rules, that it should be reported, too. That he hates.
That there is someone else who is behind it all that he can’t find. That Jonathan and he call the ghost. Whom he fears.
Jonathan has come to town to meet him about the ghost.
Meet him.
For the first time.
All limbic system there.
Jonathan is sending symbols to Nathan through Wi-Fi, through an electronic device that Nathan can interpret. Its batteries are chemical reactions that are producing electricity that the device uses to make symbols on its LCD.
The symbols tell him that Jonathan’s plane has landed, that he’s through customs, that he’s in a cab, that he he’s checked into his room, that he’ll have a shower, that he’ll be waiting, that Nathan should come.
The different messages are compressed into a single construction-emotion by Nathan’s brain that cause it to make even more hormones and impulses. A cascading feedback loop that cause Nathan to smile.
They are compressed into yes.
Nathan is driving his car. It has an engine, that converts stored energy in gasoline, makes it explode and converts explosions into twist. A front wheel spins because there’s too much twist for the tire’s grip on slush, but the car still moves.
When tires spin on slush from too much twist, they make a whirling sound.
He’s at the Sundown Motel.
Solar energy is melting the snow and reflecting everywhere. It is a clear day. The atmosphere shows itself in blue. The light waves go through Nathan’s eyes and stimulate nerves that Nathan’s brain converts into images. Into colors.
Light bouncing off the motel into Nathan’s eyes is converted into images of a bright yellow sign and two three-storey wings spanning out from a central lobby.
Nathan steers the twist in his car to make it move between lines leading to a curb. He uses brake friction to stop its go by converting it into heat. He turns a key that stops the electrical impulses that were causing the fuel explosions in the engine.
He uses his electrical device to send symbols to Jonathan that Jonathan can understand. Symbols are sent in reply that Nathan can understand.
Here :)
Finally! it’s 141
I’m coming. :)
Can’t wait
Nathan steps out into the cool crisp air. He grabs his briefcase, full of the documents he has copied that support his brain’s big abstraction. He listens to his feet crunch the half-frozen snow and he treks toward the lobby entrance.
He has a series of thoughts called logic.
If Jonathan is in 141, then he’s on the ground floor. If he’s on the ground floor, then he has a big window. If he knows that Nathan is coming, then he can look at him through the big window. If he’s exited as he is, then he’ll be looking.
Every text confirms that he is excited.
Therefore, Jonathan is looking.
Nathan tries to sense him with feelers his body doesn’t have. He catches a flutter of a curtain in the corner of his eye.
Nathan sees the lobby go by. Sees the bored front desk woman. Sees a long hallway. Sees fluorescent lights. Sees a stained stucco ceiling. Sees a carpet. Smells a musty odor.
He senses something with feelers his body doesn’t have. His brain makes a word for it.
It’s no.
But the word is very small, so Nathan’s brain ignores it.
Nathan knocks. The door opens. He hears a voice. The airwaves are read by his brain as sound.
The voice says come in.
There’s a man standing there. He’s bald. He’s white. He’s in his mid-forties. He has an earring. He has blue eyes. He’s wearing a suit.
He’s not Jonathan.
His brain flashes a thought. It makes a word.
Catfish.
His brain is knocked into pause by the other man hiding behind the door.
When Nathan’s brain comes out of pause, the back of his head is throbbing. He smells motor oil. He’s cold. He tastes the dirty rag shoved in his mouth. He smells that he soiled himself. He feels grime on his good suit.
He hears the baseline and drumbeat of music playing through a car’s rear speakers. He can make out the song. It is Dylan’s Highway 61 Revisited.
Nathan’s face itches. He can’t scratch it. He tries to get his hands free. He can’t free them. He feels for his phone. It isn’t there. So no status updates, from the trunk of a car.
The car stops. He hears the doors open. His adrenal glands have him burning sugar like crazy, ready for fight or flight. He’s snorting air through his nose. The smells no longer stink. They are information.
The trunk opens and the bald man is there. There’s another, taller man, with curly hair. He’s wearing a leather jacket. Nathan can smell it. The men have vaguely similar features. They could be cousins.
Nathan tries to speak, but his mouth is gagged. He makes gagged mouth sounds instead. He has things to tell them. About having money or whatever else they need. But they don’t understand gagged mouth sounds, so he tries with his eyes.
His eyes scream why?
“Christos, I think the kid shit his pants.”
“Why, you dreaming of a Hershey highway?”
“Shutup, asshole, and give me a hand.”
They lift him out of the truck. They frogmarch him into a field. His eyes are wild. His body is doing all that it can with chemical reactions and abstractions to get him out of this situation. But it is failing.
He can see the lights from the city. He can hear the river. There’s gravel beneath the snow. They’re nearing brush. A thin layer of packed snow crunches beneath his feet. He stumbles face first into it. The scratches sting. They lift him to his feet. He tries to run, but their grip is too tight.
The stars are brilliant and so is the moon. They light up the crystals in the snow like a millio
n diamonds.
Nathan is forced to his knees.
His brain goes through everything.
Zips through memories.
It forms its final masterpiece abstraction-emotion to sum them up.
It is transfixing, it is transformative, it is transcendent.
It is a single word.
It is love.
The bullet leaves the barrel of the bald man’s nine millimeter with 610 joules of go in it. The go comes from a chemical reaction in the gun that shot the bullet out. It was caused by igniting a mixture of sulfur, charcoal and potassium nitrate.
The bullet collides with millions of cool air molecules, before reaching the back of Nathan’s head. They have no appreciable effect.
[Abstractions]
The lead projectile, if sent along a different path, might have continued colliding with air molecules until striking another object or harmlessly falling to the ground. The speed at which it would fall to the ground would be the same whether it was fired or dropped.
Gravity is an odd force in the universe. It exerts an invisible pull on objects the strength of which varies according to mass. The invisible pull might result from the bending of space.
Gravitational theory is an abstraction of the human mind, which itself thought to be caused by a complex set of neural networks.
[/Abstractions]
Instead of harmlessly falling to the ground, the lead projectile travels only a few inches before slicing through Nathan’s hair, skin, muscle, and smashing through his skull. It bores through the grey and white matter of his cerebrum.
The go of the bullet pushes through the tissues before they can tear and consequently, it leaves a larger hole on exit than entry on Nathan’s forehead. The tearing catches up and Nathan’s brain tissue snaps back toward the entry of the wound and flings blood and brain parts toward the bald man.
[Abstractions]
The meteorite that stuck Astrid also had 610 joules of go when it hit her.
In forensics, the injury caused by the meteorite’s collision with Astrid’s head is called a blunt force injury. Nathan’s is called a penetrating force injury.
The Cygnus Virus Page 12
