The Veritas Project

by C. F. E. Black

  A gurgled moan rises from M’s throat.

  I jump. “He’s alive!”

  “Of course he is; now let me see.” One of the body guards—M uses a cycle of different people when he’s in public—shuffles Ty out of the way and lifts M’s chest up, holds his chin steady. The man peels M’s eyes open, leans him against the back of his chair, and starts running his hands over M’s chest.

  M blinks, looks around. “Terrible shot.” He lifts his arms, points to a hole in his suit jacket just above his waist. The gunman starts to examine it, but M waves him away. “Nonsense. I’m fine.” He coughs, grimacing. “Idiot should have taken a head shot. They never get the smart ones to take these jobs.”

  “Sir, you may have some cracked ribs. Let us take you to a doctor.”

  Another wave of the hand. “I’ve had broken ribs before. This is not that. The armor is much better now than it used to be.” M knocks on his stomach, but nothing happens other than a little jiggling.

  “We should have spotted him before he shot you. We searched everyone who came in. He must have stashed the weapon earlier, which means, sir, that he knew you were coming.” The man, tall and wearing a ponytail of braids, looks nervous. “We have a mole, sir.”

  M eyes the man. “No, the Reds could easily have been sending someone here every night for the past month, knowing that I occasionally dine here. There are always multiple explanations, Darrell.”

  “Dad, we need to know which one it is.” I can hear the urgency in Ty’s voice.

  M groans, then looks pointedly at me. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

  The fault line! I feel the earthquake breaking apart my promise to myself. Living outside the Center has changed me. I am no longer Valeria of the Fifth Order. Genetically engineered for perfection or not, I am human, and I have to make choices. And I have made up my mind.

  “I’ll do it, sir. I’ll help you.”

  Twenty-Nine

  “M, I was thinking …”

  The big man laughs from deep in his belly. “Not now, V! Don’t tell me what you’re thinking! I’m about to find out!”

  The car, which I’ve learned is armored, drives us toward the nearest location of Streamline Impressions. This is it. M’s tech experts and Julius have set up the whole thing. One last stream. I breathe slowly, steeling myself.

  “Yes, but, I have an idea about …”

  From the front seat, M holds up a hand. His smile pinches his cheeks. “V, whatever is on your mind, I’d like for it to wait. After the stream, if there’s anything I missed, we can discuss it then, all right?” He tosses a glance back at me. Giddy excitement flashes in his eyes. He has no idea what is coming to him. The flood of even one brain could be enough to unhinge him. To give him just a taste of the terror of looking in the mirror and not recognizing who looks back.

  I nod. “That’s fine.”

  Up front, Ty rolls his neck back and forth. He hasn’t said much today. Julius drums his fingers across the leather between us. They are both worried about Pru. We all are.

  Nerves. Anger. Fear. Hope. All of this is at war within me. I’m glad Julius is here, anchoring me. This is the price for Pru, I remind myself for the hundredth time.

  The conversation remains on hold until we arrive and are greeted by a small ensemble. Two men in suits, an older woman with purple-striped hair, and a pair of young, attractive women wearing nearly nothing and elastic smiles. I do my best not to sneer at them.

  “Welcome, Mr. M. We are so excited to have you for your very own stream today.” The woman is greying, but her body looks like a teenager’s. This woman clearly can afford Center technology.

  “Thank you, Koiyn. You’ve met my son, Tyson. And this here is V and Julius. They have made this possible.”

  I shake the woman’s sticky hand, offering a weak smile.

  “So glad to meet you. What an opportunity! Come. We’ll get started.”

  The two men shake M’s hand and fall in line behind us as we march inside after our greeter. The woman, Koiyn, wears a dress that cinches around her waist and hangs to the floor. The thin straps show off well-toned muscles.

  We come to the waiting room at the front of Streamline Impressions. Grey and silver theme. Long, s-shaped desk with lights underneath it and a lone t-screen computer behind it. Chairs line the walls of the room. But this time, no one is waiting.

  We march past the front desk and down the narrow hall that I’ve walked many times, always heading for the labyrinth. But today we turn into one of the rooms. The two suited men, I notice, peel off and wait in the lobby behind us. The remaining six of us file into a streaming room at the end of the hall, equipped with two chairs instead of one. My blood turns to ice. Thankfully, Julius’ hand on the small of my back keeps me from freezing solid. You can do this.

  “For Pru,” he whispers.

  “May we bring you anything before we get started?” The purple-haired woman extends a hand to the two young girls. They look younger than me.

  “Not a thing,” M replies, smile still holding. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

  “All right.” The woman waves a hand at the two girls who back up instinctively against the wall. “A few reminders. The process requires that a mild sedative be administered before the stream. We’ve found that it makes the experience much easier. Your body, Mr. M, will most likely resist this at first.” As she speaks, M removes his suit jacket, hands it to one of the girls. “You will sit in this chair, and Ms. V, you will sit here.” The woman stands between the chairs, arms outstretched.

  I swallow, hard. “This is just one-way, right?”

  M steps over to me, pats my shoulder. I flinch. “Yes, you’re correct. It’s one-way.” He tilts his head. “I’ve always wanted to do this. As head of this company, I’ve streamed a few times, of course, trying out my own product to make sure it works, but only from a computer program. I’ve never streamed with another person. I want to see inside your head. And not just from a computer screen.”

  I start to fidget, feeling the mechanisms of the flight response breeding. “But I—”

  “Won’t see anything but your own memories going by,” concludes M. “Don’t worry, V. What we are doing today will change this city, this world. We’ve been desperate for this kind of change for too long. Now, thanks to you, it is possible.” He squeezes my shoulder before letting go.

  “Okay.” I sound hoarse. A look at Ty and Julius reassures me. I can do this. I agreed. “And then you’ll help Pru?” I wish, for a moment, that I could ask for Marcus too, like M could just lift him out of the Center like a claw in an arcade, deposit my prize at my door. But Marcus isn’t some prize, and M isn’t some benevolent claw. I made a deal for Pru, and that is enough.

  M nods. “Of course.”

  The purple-haired woman steps over to the chair I’ll be using. “Now, we are going to give you a time-release sedative because we’re doing an extensive stream with you today. We’re going to be trying to access everything in that pretty head of yours. It will take a while, several hours, we imagine. Everything that is streamed will be stored on our computers, of course.”

  “And that’s what we’ll use to fix this city,” M announces, arms raised. “We’ll have everything we need.”

  I’m going to save Pru. I try to slow my heart rate with one long inhale. If only the Director knew what I am about to do: give all the Center’s secrets to a man no better than a crime lord. “Sir, is Pru—”

  “Don’t! Don’t reveal anything else on your mind! I’m about to see it all! Koiyn, are we ready?” M moves to his assigned chair, sits. I do the same. “Julius, you have it all configured?”

  “Yes, sir.” His eyes dart to me in what looks, oddly, like a flash of panic. Julius is a whiz at this. What could he possibly be afraid of? Does he care that much about what I’m sacrificing? That must be it. He knows how much this costs me because he remembers what streams do to us.

  M grunts his approval. Then, looking at his so
n, he says, “Tyson, make the arrangements for tonight.”

  Ty nods, not smiling. “Yes, sir.” And with a glance at me, he says, “Good luck.” He files out of the room.

  Julius turns to go, guilt on his face that feels out of place, feels stronger than commiseration for my oncoming stream. His expression weakens my resolve. My teeth latch onto my bottom lip, chewing furiously. Watching them leave is like watching the sun go down.

  For a moment, I consider running. Sensing my hesitation, Koiyn steps in front of me, hemming me in.

  “Ready?” Koiyn’s whitened smile sends a flash of angst into my stomach. She places a hand on my shoulder, leading me to the chair. I grit my teeth and nod, lying back against the chair as her hands push me down. “Excellent. You’re a pro at this. Nothing new. Girls?” The woman raises a hand without looking over her shoulder, and the girls step forward. “We’ll be monitoring you the entire time. You have nothing to worry about. And, dear, thank you for what you’re doing.”

  I want to spit on her for calling me dear.

  The woman nods to M and excuses herself. It is just the four of us now. Apparently, these girls are the techs. They start fiddling with the syringes and tapping things on the t-screens by the chairs. I close my eyes to calm my racing heartbeat.

  “Sir, I’m going to sedate you now,” one of them says.

  I peep open my eyes to glance at M, recumbent in the chair beside me. “You’ve never been inside someone else’s mind before. It’s not exactly fun. Whatever you find, don’t judge me, please.” He’ll see I don’t trust him. Perhaps by then he won’t care.

  He keeps his eyes on the girl standing over him. “Of course. A mind is a most private place. I promise to be nothing more than an observer.” Now he looks at me, his shiny head rolling like a ball. “I have always wanted to do this. Thank you, V.”

  The girl with her back to me bends slightly over M’s arm.

  “This won’t hurt.” The blond girl above me, surely younger than me, remains completely void of emotion as she pokes the needle into my arm.

  My body leaves my mind. The sensation of being detached from my muscles and joints is not at all alarming. In fact, it is comforting; I have never felt so relaxed. I watch with a blissful smile as the two techs disappear from view. Then the one nearest me adjusts an object I can’t see, and my tech’s face looks down at something just behind my head.

  “Here it comes. You shouldn’t feel a thing.”

  I know the micro cable enters my neck, but all I feel is a small dab of pressure, then nothing. In the Center, anytime a stream lasted longer than two minutes, it was for punishment. Mind-bending, self-scrambling punishment. This stream, they said, could take hours.

  What will he do when he sees—Light! My body knocks back against the chair with the initiation of the stream.

  My thoughts sink out of my skull like sand in a sieve. So much flashes by in the span of milliseconds that I can’t possibly see it all.

  But then …

  Ty—but he’s young?—runs and jumps into my lap.

  “Guess what, Daddy?” His brown eyes bulge up at me.

  “What is it, my boy?”

  “Did you know that people used to watch people kill each other, for fun? They were called gladiators!” Ty crawls out of my lap and mimics slicing someone with a sword. His ferocious growl makes me smile.

  “The world hasn’t changed as much as we’d like to think.” I scoop my son into my arms, pinning him between my legs as I send punishing tickles up and down his ribcage. “Did you learn about emperors, too?” He nods, breaking free of my grip. “Do you know your dad is kind of like those emperors? All the people who wear blue, Tyson, are the people in my empire. One day, it will be your empire.”

  “Can we have gladiators?” His face shines just like his mother’s. “With tigers and stuff?”

  I chuckle, leaning back. “If you want gladiators, we’ll have them.”

  “And the tigers?”

  “And the tigers.”

  The memories shift and …

  A computer screen fills my vision. On it are images of people’s faces and descriptions of them. It is a list of the deceased.

  I scroll down the list, as always, just to check. So far, her face has never been there. Every day for the past thirteen years, I’ve checked this list, and every day been rewarded with the absence of her face. I always hold my breath as I scroll down to the Js. Evelyn Jenson. Please don’t be there.

  My breath catches. There, right between Raven Jennings and Julio Jimenez is a photo of Evelyn. They must have used an old picture, because the last time I saw her, she looked older than this. She never used the corrective treatments for aging. No matter how much money I sent her, she never used a dime of it. Stubborn woman. A do-it-herself kind. I have to tell Tyson. I always promised myself I’d tell him when his mother died.

  As I turn away from the screen, I’m amazed at the searing pain splitting my chest.

  Flashes of color—slices of faces—heat and light and pain.

  Again, another memory fades away, replaced by—

  “She’s agreed to it.”

  On the other end of the phone is heavy breathing. “How did you get her to agree to it?” The voice is deep and thick, accented English as melodic as a mockingbird.

  “She doesn’t know all the details. No one will find out.”

  “You’re certain of this?”

  “Julius and I have been working on the program ourselves. It’s a one-way stream. And we’ll store everything we get from her brain so we can sort it out later. And I mean everything. I’ll have it all now. Or rather, we will.”

  “You’ve delivered us the information we have asked of you, Malachi. Can I count on you as we move forward? Can I trust that you will give us access to that data, all of it? China is counting on you.”

  I pause, rubbing my shoulder where a bullet passed through long ago. “You have my word. I’ll have my little gen-eng tech guru set it all up and then your door will be open. You’ll have access to thought sharing technology, as promised. But, Li, deny all communications with me. Can I count on you for that?”

  Silence for a moment. “Malachi, on my honor, I will not betray you. Our facilities are finished; all we lack now is the technology from the American Center to make shared learning a reality in China. My country will remember your good deed.”

  I sigh. “My country will hate me for it.”

  “That is the way of things.”

  I rub a hand over my mouth. “And the funds will be untraceable?”

  A small cough. “I’ll send the codes in the next bullet that ends up in your vest.”

  “We need to find another way to communicate, Li. I don’t like getting shot every other month. And I think the assassins like it even less.”

  “One more, like you said. The bank account codes will be in it. Untraceable, like you said.”

  “One more, Li. I’ll keep you updated. We stream tomorrow.” I move my thumb to end the call.

  “Malachi?” Then the two soft syllables of the Chinese thank you.

  Another memory starts … Trees, sunlight, a girl running with arm outstretched and flowers in her hair.

  I’m back in my own head again, reeling. Vomit bubbles up through my limp body. Someone has dropped my brain into a glass of water. My body still pinned down, the vomit spews out like a volcano erupting and splatters across my torso, my neck, my chin. Air! I can’t breathe! Hot, rancid liquid clogs my throat and I cough, my languid, still-sedated body flopping.

  A door beeps open behind me, then a face is above me, worried. I can’t understand her words.

  Soon, my limbs and neck are free, I’m being hoisted to a sitting position. With the movement comes more vomit. This time it lands in my lap and on the girl’s hands. I’m still choking and sucking for air.

  “Koiyn, it’s Arma. Get in here! Something went wrong! M’s unconscious. Kora is getting him hooked up, but his vitals are all over the place.”
>
  The girl’s face beside me has drained of color. Her eyes spell panic.

  I look over at the man in the chair next to mine. His mouth is ajar, his eyes closed, the second young girl frantically trying to insert an IV needle. I saw into his head. For the moment, I can’t even remember who he is. I look around the room, trying to wedge myself back into reality. A hammering pain kicks against the back of my eyes.

  Malachi. The name comes to mind. But why? I look at the man again. M! It’s all coming back now. The memories I saw, they were M’s.

  And then I scream.

  Emptying my lungs again and again, I fill the small room with peels of my terror. “No!” Over and over and over. The girl drops me. “He can’t!” Twisting back and forth is the only motion I can muster with my weak muscles. “He can’t, he can’t, he can’t!”

  “He can’t what?” The girl stares at me, bewildered.

  I can’t stop long enough to answer her. I just roll, trying to shake the anger and fear out of my body. “He can’t!”

  Then, a face I know. Julius!

  “What’s happening to her?” Arma asks Julius.

  He’s beside me, hands on my shoulders, trying to steady my loose rocking motion. He locks eyes with me. “V? I need you to calm down, stay quiet.”

  I stop moving. I want to climb into those hazel eyes and make him understand. “I saw it! I saw it!” I know I’m not making any sense. I wish my brain were not floating!

  Julius’ face comes closer, his grip tightens on my vomit-smeared hand. “Hush, V, I mean it.” Then, closer, only to me, “I’m sorry. I thought it would be useful to see inside his head. Tell me about it in a minute; I’ll get you out.”

  Sounds are gurgling out of my mouth, but they don’t make any sense. I can’t figure out how to speak this fear and rage. Julius knew this would be a two-way stream! He did that on purpose!

  The girl named Kora starts blabbering at Julius. “What is the matter with her? Is this normal? It was supposed to last longer.”

  Julius straightens, jaw tight, his eyes narrowing on M a few feet away. “Yes, this is normal. Nothing wrong here. I’m going to take her with me.” To me he whispers, “Let’s get you out of here.”