MOME

Brief Synopsis: A team of physicists, a renegade cop, and a family whose son was nearly lost in cyberspace must stop a supposedly benevolent multinational from launching an operating system that will unknowingly dictate every click users make on the Net.

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11


          Martinex walked down a white-walled hall. Outercity hospitals weren’t as clean, but they tended to have the same amount of facilities that those in the Intercity had. Thankfully, this one seemed to be at the higher end of the hygiene scale. He was there to check on the injured woman. Before placing her in the cab, Kaleb had tagged her with an iBody tracker. Who knows what the taxi driver would’ve done with her—500 credits or not. Fortunately, she got to the closest hospital unmolested. It was there that he was told that her name was Adia Nyambura and that she was in room 742. The REP® receptionist informed Martinex that she was making good progress, but he still wanted to see for himself what “making good progress” meant. Entering her room, Martinex saw that Adia was resting comfortably. A REP® Spindel was administering fluid to her right arm with its other arms retracted. The info-charts on the Spindel’s left hummed and buzzed with life, showing stable AccuPulse and eBrain readings. Looks like the receptionist was telling the truth.
          The Serviceman was about to leave when Adia’s eyes fluttered open. She turned to focus in his direction.
          “Who-who’s there?” her voice was highly accented but weak.
          Kaleb almost let it go but then stopped short.
          “Ms. Nyambura, my name is Martinex. I’m the Service officer who extracted you from that situation yesterday. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
          Her face brightened.
          “Oh . . . I-I wondered how I got . . .”
          “Yes, Ms. Nyambura. It seemed very serious. I didn’t want to risk leaving it solely to the ambulance drivers.”
          “Thank you.”
          “Just doing my job.”
          “Oh, I’d sema yesmore than that.”
          Martinex paused, then abruptly said, “Well, I must be going now. I’m glad you’re doing okay,” and then he turned again to go.
          “What wagwan to my grandy? You kumbamba him?”
          He stopped short again.
          “Your-your grandfather? Uh . . . well . . . No. Un-unfortunately, my colleagues were a little rash when he grabbed you and they . . . I’m sorry.”
          She started to cry.
          “It-it’s tifi, Mr. Service Officer. I know it would wagwan one day. I’d been jobo with him kiboa, kiboa years. Each time no mizuka was done about the thegis, he grew more and more gwan. Who wouldn’t? And you see what it do to him. Totally danda. I feel it too. I tried to get him to ndonyo our keja and move away, like I did, but he wouldn’t. He like feeling makmende.”
          “I understand.”
          “I’m no aston’d by you. You seem no like those fala Service officers, who’d show up, if they’d show a’tall. They wouldn’t give a ngodha about us. They treat us almost as bad as those kiraka deng’a that robbed us.”
          “I can make no excuses for them, but we’re not all that way.”
          “I can gich that,” she finally smiled.
          Martinex smiled back but said nothing. He could only imagine the pain and suffering Adia and her grandfather had gone through, but he knew the potent mixture of complacency and frustration that Sector G engendered in people due to the Service’s high kill rate or its apathy. Adia didn’t seem like an exception, but Kaleb was quite impressed by her directness. He could also tell that she had that tough outer core with a perceivable softness underneath that he had come across in many people who have lived on the edges of Outercity.
          During their conversation, Kaleb also started feeling something different about her. Perhaps it was her soft, smooth dark skin, or maybe it was her curly black hair, or it could’ve been her thin button nose or her deep dark eyes? All he knew was that the only reason he wanted to leave so quickly was because he was suddenly struck by how attractive she was, and as always, it was making him extremely nervous.
          “Uh, well, Ms. Nyambura, I-I’d better get back to work. I hope-I hope they release you from this place soon.”
          “They tell me a couple days . . . Mr. Service Officer, you aliturn and see me again, yes?”
          He smiled again. This time, his nervousness might’ve been obvious.
          Either way, Adia just smiled back.
          “Of course, I will try to come back tomorrow? Please get some rest now.”
          “Ah, wabee. See you tomorrow.”
          “See you tomorrow, Ms. Nyambura.”
          Martinex escaped the room and then rapidly walked down the hall, down three flights of stairs, and out the front entrance before his senses seemed to return to him. He also realized then that a smile was still on his face.
          It’d been years since Kaleb had had these feelings. He’d like to blame the cold, instilling nature of the job, and that would be an easy out for him, but he knew it had to be more than that. It also had to be his autonomous nature. Even previous Service partners had complained that Martinex would constantly go off on his own and rarely call for backup. It is likely because these complaints also contained glowing reports of how even-keeled he was that the top Service executives eventually let him patrol solo. That, and a stellar Service record didn’t hurt. So it wasn’t the job that stopped him from love. It’s easier to say it was just his paradoxical self.
This certainly affected the last time he experienced these kinds of feelings. In fact, it was a bit of fiasco. Kaleb was feeling miserable at the time, having lost his father in a car accident, so he was spending a lot of time walking the streets alone and frequenting whatever bar crossed his path. One night, two weeks after his father’s death, he was drinking heavily in Nato’s bar in Sector J in the Intercity, and there he saw a QR advertising companionship on the bathroom wall. Normally, Kaleb wouldn’t go for that sort of thing, a pull, but he was getting sick of waiting for everything to pass. Martinex had already shared his grief with his Service psych, and his answer was to take time off, which Martinex refused to do. The job could at least help him to take his focus off his dad. His Service friends told him he should jump on this opportunity for paid time off, but then again, they were always looking for ways of working less and getting paid for it. They showed little to no understanding. So, blurry-eyed, he scanned the QR with his handheld and instantly 100 credits were debited from his account. The screen was replaced with an enquiry form and Martinex somehow was able to tick off the boxes to complete it.
Female. Brunette. Olive skin. 168 cm. 61 kg. 28–32 years old. Curvy. Good listener. Nanoseconds after he tapped “submit,” a woman fitting that exact description appeared on the screen.
          “Hello, Kaleb. My name is Denia,” she gave him a sultry smile.
          “He-llo Denia. Wan-na meet me here for a-a dr-drink?” he slurred out.
          “Sure. Anything you want. I’ll be there in ten.”
          Denia was true to her word.
          Instantly, Kaleb was mesmerized by her. She seemed to sparkle when she appeared at the door. The soulless form that he had tapped out had come alive and was now right in front of him, curves and all. Inebriated now, he was able to go over to her without hesitation, and she greeted him with a gentle squeeze. Kaleb almost didn’t want to let go, but he had the presence of mind to know he didn’t want to come across as a loomer so he quickly backed off, offered her a seat, and repeated the drink idea.
          “Thanks. A raspberry shrub, please. Nice place.”
          It was a very decent place. Nothing like the southside bars, or any in the Outercity for that matter, especially since each table had its own silicate glass touch screen for ordering and partitions for insulating patrons from being in earshot of other patrons. Not Kaleb’s usual place, but somehow he ended up there that night.
          The server REP® brought over Denia’s drink along with Martinex’s, and Kaleb placed hers delicately in front of her.
          Before raising her glass to her lips, Denia said sweetly, “To what do I have the pleasure of sharing with you this evening?”
          “Oh, it’s nothing . . . nothing special. I just felt like talking to someone.”
          “That’s wonderful. I love to talk,” she said this with no sense of irony, and then added, “What do you want to talk about?”
          “Tell me . . . tell me about yourself.”
          “Me? What should I say? I’m not sure what you want to know.”
          “You choose. Tell me anything . . . whatever you want.”
          “Well, I . . . I don’t know. Really. I don’t normally . . .”
          “Denia. Please. I don’t care what is normal. How ’bout you begin by telling where you’re from and we can see where that takes us?”
          This opened the sluicegates, and their conversation went on for hours.
          As the evening wore on, the connection between them grew stronger. Denia was normally the one who did the listening; she was usually asked to listen to her client as they poured out whatever babble they were going through and then they’d make love to her and leave. They never took an interest, or at least, a sincere interest in her. Since getting paid by the agency was utterly dependent on pleasing her client’s every need, she never thought too much about it. The only thing she knew was that it always left her a bit cold, and unlike the others, she wasn’t prepared to put her mind and body in deep freeze. Denia dropped the last remaining scraps of her pretense after the first hour. Martinex also felt his usual remoteness washing away with each minute, and that’s even when the alcohol wore off. Something about her made him feel free to remain unguarded about anything he said to her. Everything within him felt truly alive. In those few hours, their exchanges became more and more effortless. They agreed to meet the next night, but this time, without the agency’s involvement.
The next night turned into weeks. Martinex’s heart raced every time he saw Denia, and Denia’s eyes beamed each time he’d appear at her door. Their conversations were never a disappointment, and their lovemaking was magical. During sex, neither required hormonal replacements to boost their stimulation and both found the use of VR scenarios totally unnecessary and off-putting. They thoroughly enjoyed antiquated human contact, in all its authenticity and purity. The act of actually touching one another through their words and their bodies brought Kaleb and Denia closer to one another in ways that no artificial restorative could.
          Denia worried that one day, it would all end suddenly. Martinex would go to work and never return. Kaleb reassured her numerous times that he was careful; he didn’t play the games that other Service officers did, those who competed for the biggest scag kill of the day. He also reminded her that he didn’t have an impulsive partner that would push him into doing something stupid. She was calmed by these words, but she still needed them to be repeated to her each time. Denia’s constant fears put some tension on their relationship, but this is was common territory for any Service officer.
          One night, seven and half months into their relationship, Martinex arrived at Denia’s dom to see her that she was on the tele-COM® with someone in the exterior salon. He couldn’t hear the conversation but he could tell by her facial expressions and body language that it was very heated. He immediately wanted to bust in and silence whatever was disturbing her, but just as he tapped open the salon door, Denia buzzed off. She turned around and Kaleb could see she was in tears. Before either of them said anything, she threw herself into his arms and began sobbing again.
           When she finally got the strength, Martinex heard her whisper in his ear, “He won’t let me quit, Kaleb and . . . I don’t know what to do.”
           “Who, Denia, who won’t let you . . . quit?” Martinex asked gently still holding her close.
There was a long silence until she continued, “I know I should’ve told you. I know I should’ve said something a long time ago, but I just didn’t know how.”
           Kaleb pulled away while she tried to cling on to him, “You mean you’re still pulling for Amaz!” He tried his best to stay calm. “I thought you gave that up for . . . well, I just never thought you’d . . . Shit, Denia.”
          “I tried. I did. But Amaz said I owed him, so I . . .”
          “What the fuck! Owed him how?”
          “He-he paid for my injections!”
          Martinex’s slow-burning rage froze momentarily.
          Denia turned away from him. “Yes, I’m not pure. I hope you’re not . . .”
          “She’s not pure,” he whispered almost to himself, then as a blast, he continued, “Yes, you sure as fuck should’ve told me! I can’t believe this vark! All that talk of keeping things fucking natural! You’re an absolute prag, you know that!”
          “Please, Kaleb. I know you’re angry with me . . .”
          “You’re fuckin’ right!”
          “Please listen. I just told Amaz I was done. That I’d pay him another way.”
          “Gonkers, Denia! Why the fuck didn’t you tell him that earlier?! Were we some sort of backup plan?”
          “No, no, not at all. Please. He threatened to degax me if I stopped wor . . .”
          “The fucking di-vert fills up your body with low-grade shit and then threatens to suck it out if you won’t work for him?! That’s plenty zerty! Why didn’t you just send me down there to set him straight?”
          “I thought of that, believe me, but I didn’t-I didn’t want to ruin it for the other girls. I knew what you’d do. Amaz is not really a bad guy. He’s only trying to protect his investment. You have to . . .”
          “WHAT?? Fuck this! We’re done!”
          “But . . . but . . .”
          Martinex was out of the dom before she could finish her sentence. That was the last time they ever saw each other. Denia tried to buzz him several times over the following weeks and she even sent him a few holographic messages of herself begging for his forgiveness, but she never heard a thing back from him.
That was five years ago. The whole incident had made Kaleb Martinex even more insular. He swore that he would never go that deep with another woman ever again. Anything longer than a night or two would be unthinkable. Mostly he kept his distance, stayed focused on the job, and when he had a free night, he’d go to a bar and end up divvying with the first pure woman who’d talk to him. He’d say that he had gotten used to women coming and going out of his life, but it never satisfied his core needs; in fact, it would just make him hungrier. Something about Adia had finally cracked that open and he felt ready to try again. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but whatever it was, it was inspiring feelings that had been dormant for years. Despite this, he promised himself this time that he would proceed with extreme caution and get all the necessary cards on the table from the beginning. And if anything looked unsafe, no matter how small, he would simply walk away. There was no way in hell he’d go through another experience like Denia again.
          “Officer M3649, are you anywhere near Sector F?”
          Kaleb picked up his palm-COM® to respond.
          “Just leaving the hospital in Sector G, so right next door. What’s up?”
          “A body has been found outside the Lasur Rehabilitation Shelter. It seems to be particularly nasty and particularly fresh. Can you get over there and check it out?”
          “Sure. Who called it?”
          “Anonymous.”
          “Should’ve known. I don’t suppose there were any witnesses either?”
          “None.”
          “What about Lasur’s security?”
          “Just get over there.”
          “On my way.”
          Martinex had heard of the LRS; everyone had. The late Maurice Lasur, having perfected functionally-graded materials based on carbon nanotubes that were commercially viable, bequeathed a good chunk of his fortune to the building and its upkeep. It is now one of the best primed facilities in the metroplex. Its 300 bedrooms are all equipped with latest furnishings and technology, which even make some of the nearby hotels envious. On top of that, it has many professional volunteers, who dedicate themselves to the rehabilitation of the shelter’s occupants. As such, it attracts the poor and the rich alike. Lasur set up the facility to run as a cooperative in order to encourage community involvement and to ensure the financial stability of the shelter. Despite envisioning the shelter as a free and open refuge, over time, it became an obvious target for scags and roughs, and a good portion of the funding had to be diverted to the Scurlock security firm.
          Even with all of this, it was an unlikely place for a murder. Kaleb understood the security ratio there to be nearly three to one, so the chance of slipping around them is mighty slim. He reckoned it must’ve been a scag-on-scag revenge killing that Scurlock chose to ignore, or a mercy killing that Scurlock executed themselves. He wouldn’t put it past them. He had heard that they were rather narrow enforcers of the Shelter’s few but necessary rules.
          The Service officer soon found himself outside the huge gothic-like structure, with round turrets at each corner and high arches over every major doorway. Officer Martinex was greeted at the entrance by Lasur’s chief of security, Andreas Tell.
          “Thanks for coming, Officer Martinex. Sure could use another head on this one.”
          “Why? Did someone lose theirs?”
          Tell winced, “Funny guy.”
          “I try. So what’s the story here, Tell? They gave me nothing but a body.”
          He smiled, “Follow me.”
          Tell led Martinex away from the heavy walnut front doors and over to a dense band of ferns growing just below the east turret. In it was the body of an Anglo male, approximately fifty-five years of age, average height and build, wearing a white smock that was splattered with blood. Most of his facial features had been obscured by someone who had clearly attempted to remove them with a razor-sharp object. His head was a mass of red.
          “Who is it?”
          “Dr. Eldridge Searcy, scientist over at the NMF. He volunteers here every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon.”
          “Nayfeh-Maldacena Foundation. Hmmm. Never heard of Searcy. I’ve already been told no, but I guess I should ask. Did anyone see anything?”
          “We know as much as you. A buzz came in on my private com and a text-only message told me where the body was. And before you go asking, the text came in on a temp line that was deleted before we could put a trace on it. And no one, yet, has told us anything helpful. All we do know is that Dr. Searcy was volunteering in the east wing of the Shelter today. The IdentScan® shows him signing in upon arriving thirty-five minutes ago. The data also shows that he had gone to room 96 on the east wing.”
          “Who’s in room 96?”
          “It was believed to have been unoccupied. I mean . . . no other access code was used before Searcy used his personal ident, but we’re scanning the in-room Serveill® feed as we speak. You can have a look at the data log when we get back the results.”
          “Are there any clues of anyone being in the room with him?”
          “Apart from a scuff mark on the floor near the door and a slight discoloring on a section of the wall above the desk, there was nothing. As of now, we don’t know if Searcy or the scag caused those marks. We’re checking on that and checking the REP® log to see how recently that room had been cleaned. Everything in the room looked intact and nothing seemed to have been moved, but we’re still including those in our analysis.”
          “You know if anyone talked to him on his way to the room?”
          “Marsha Coney, another volunteer. Said hello as they passed each other in the hall. This was at 10:30, which corroborates the time Searcy used his ident for room 96 a few minutes later.”
          “So what do you need me for? Sounds like you’ve got it covered.” Martinex was being totally sincere and beginning to think that the rumors about Scurlock being lax might just be some form of professional jealousy.
          “My team is busy interrogating the residents and volunteers and instituting the analyses, so I have virtually no spare hands.” Andreas suddenly dropped his official-sounding demeanor, “. . . And, to be honest with you, Martinex, we were told to employ outside help due to the nature of the investigation and because of the profile of the victim. It would appear that we’re not to be trusted to do a thorough enough job.”
          “As far as I’m concerned, I’m only here to help you, not the other way around.”
          “Don’t sweat it, Martinex. I know it’s not you. It’s just, well, you know how it is? We finally get a gold op to really prove we’ve tighten up our procedures and they still won’t let us.”
          “Sorry, Tell. That’s just shit stupid.”
          “Forget it. I am actually honestly glad to have you on this case. The residents may find you easier to talk to and I’m sure you’ve gotta have superior tech. Lazur hasn’t given us an upgrade in months.”
          “As I said, I’m happy to help. How ’bout I start here, with the body, before forensics takes it away.”
          “Help yourself.”
          Kaleb twisted a smile. “Now look who’s being funny.”
          “Let me know if you turn anything up. Here’s my com line.”
          Kaleb agreed as he quick-posted it into his palm-COM®.
          Martinex moved closer to Searcy’s body. He quickly surmised that the body had simply been dumped in the ferns since the ferns were only disturbed where the body had been laid. Kaleb looked around the façade of the turret to see if it allowed for easy access to the area. The first thing he noticed was two Palladian windows that were at least three meters off the ground. Each was made of a single plate of glass that was surrounded by a solid timber frame. Both were fixed within the curved wall with no visual means of opening or closing them; they also showed no signs of breakage. He then discovered a walnut door on the far side of the turret. Its design was much like the front door, except that it was thin and tall. There was no hint of a forced exit and it was locked from the inside. Still, someone could easily unlock the door, ditch the body, and return to lock the door with virtually no detection. Kaleb used the D-Tec® app on his palm-COM® to scan for prints on the stone-studded path that was embedded in the grass just outside the door and on the door itself. The D-Tec® analysis clearly showed there were prints to and from the door. The trouble was there were too many to suggest one or two individuals carrying a body through this way. Still, he scanned the data stream to see if any matched. Nothing displayed. The number of marks and imprints in the grass showed that this path was one that must be used regularly. The data stream also confirmed no matches here.
          That was no help.
          Martinex took another look around him. The far side wall, beyond the door, continued in a straight line to the back of the building for what seemed like twenty-five meters; a door identical to the one before him stood halfway down. Would they take the trouble to move the body all the way over here?
To his left was the front of the building, with its main entrance. Apart from the high-arched doorway, there were several large square stain-glass windows, which faced out to a wide timber porch that was decorated with solid mango wood and iron benches and a few large planters containing delphiniums and goatsbeard. Someone could get the body through the windows, or even through the main doorway, with little trouble physically but they’d be pushed to get it past security and any volunteer or resident who happened to come by or might be in earshot. And then there’s the murder itself. Where did that occur and how had no one witnessed it? Martinex threw around some potential possibilities but didn’t land on anything solid.
          The body itself only offered a little help. Dr. Eldridge Searcy had no other signs of injury on him other than the damage to his face. Kaleb’s preliminary theory was that the killer had somehow sliced down Searcy’s face from the forehead downward based on the direction of the serration marks. From the considerable size and depth of the cuts, Martinex guessed that the weapon was most likely a sturdy, thin-bladed knife that was at least ten centimeters long. The killer clearly had taken their time since the injuries were neither random nor choppy; the cuts were clean and deliberate. The killer had left the mouth area alone but had completely extracted the nose and eyes, clearly leaving underlying bone scored by the blade. I hope Searcy was dead before that. There was no sign of the eyes and nose, or remnants of them, around the body, so Martinex concluded that the murderer had taken them with them as a keepsake. Typical sick fuck. They always want some way to relive the crime. Then Kaleb considered the idea that the killer may have been interrupted, which forced them to dump the body randomly. Maybe they had meant to continue down Searcy’s face, take off the whole thing, but had to stop for some reason? The only other evidence Searcy offered was connected to the smock. Apart from the bloodstains, it was perfectly clean, like it was brand new. Or maybe Searcy was very fastidious with his laundry?Whatever the answer was for all of these things, more would hopefully come clear after the autopsy.
          Before leaving the body, Martinex did a Clean-Scan® of his hands. As soon as they registered, he did a quick check of Searcy’s smock and pants pockets. No handheld or other com on him. Could the scag have taken it for some reason? Maybe that was the reason for the attack? In the end, the only thing the search produced were some random bits of lint.
          Martinex tapped all of his mental notes and observations into his palm-COM® and went off to find Andreas. Not seeing him out front, Kaleb decided to go inside the Shelter and have a look around. But, before he could enter, the IdentScan® readout flashed access denied followed by present ident. His first impulse was to ignore this and move on, but the invisible electromagnetics in the doorway quickly stopped him. Martinex was about to tap out a text to Andreas Tell, when the Lazur chief of security appeared just across the threshold.
          “Sorry, forgot to add you to our clearance list,” he entered Martinex’s name into the IdentScan® app on his palm-COM® and then tapped out a temporary ident for him. “This’ll only let you in today, but you can personalize the ident so you can get full access any time . . . Oh, and I nearly forgot, we’ll need to clear your weapon too.”
          Martinex halfheartedly handed it over and Andreas scanned it quickly. He paused before giving it back.
          “Nice Digi®gun. Custom?”
          “Yep. You’ve probably heard that the TRS on the standard issue Service Digis is unreliable. Well, it’s true, not just media hype. Their TRS always needs to be reconfigured. Why be armed if you don’t even know if you’re going to hit your target? That’s zerty. I just can’t live like that.”
          “Sure. Lasur has issued us some outmoded Service Digi® guns, which are probably worse than that . . . thankfully, I haven’t had to use it yet.”
          Kaleb placed the pistol back in its holster and entered the building. The reception area was full of dark wood. It covered the walls and served as the content of all the furniture and statuary. If it weren’t for the windows letting in light, the large room would’ve been drenched in dim darkness. In front of him was a crescent-shaped front desk that sat before a wide, carpeted staircase that led in a y-shape up to the second floor. Behind and to the sides of the staircase were corridors leading to the backside of the building and the inner courtyard. To the left and right of him were substantial, spiraling columns that gave support to the floor above. They also stood before walled tapestries and doorways to other sections of hallways and rooms behind them. The floors were dressed in encaustic tiles glazed with geometric designs and large area rugs. If he felt the exterior of the Shelter was a trip into the past, the interior confirmed that he had arrived there.
          “Impressive, eh?” Andreas remarked.
          “I feel like I should be wearing a suit of armor and carrying a lance,” Kaleb chuckled.
          “Actually a padded doublet would be more appropriate,” Tell quickly shot back and then just as quickly changed tact, “Let me take you through what we think were Searcy’s movements this morning. He obviously gained access where you had just come in at exactly 10:26, which gave him four minutes before he met Marsha Coney, which suggests that he went straight to room 96 after entering. As you can see, the lobby here is quite big. Four minutes leave Searcy with virtually no time to do anything else but cross the lobby and go down the hall toward the east wing to room 96.”
          “It was enough time to say hi to Coney. What was their connection other than them both being volunteers here?”
          “None that we know of. Marsha said she was just being friendly. Nothing else. And just before you go there, background data shows she was telling the truth.”
          “Okay. Okay. I gotcha. How about if we go down to room 96 now?”
          They made their way over to the doorway between the second and third pillar. Along the way, Martinex inspected the floor. No signs of blood. No scuffs from a dragged body. Nothing seemed disturbed. Everything was very clean. This made the turret door exit the most likely choice unless . . .
          “Just got the REP® log data,” Andreas interrupted, “Room 96 had been cleaned this morning, but it was completed at 9:14 a.m. Guess we cross that off our list.”
          Kaleb didn’t reply.
          “Oh, and it looks like Misha Grober, one of our long-term resies, saw a man fitting Searcy’s description walking from the east wing to the south wing. Misha said he was just walking to the café and looked to his left and saw someone walking there. He also said that it was only a quick look, so he couldn’t be 100 percent sure.”
          “I’d like to talk to this Misha after we check room 96.”
          “Sure. I’ll tap it in now, but don’t expect to get much from him.”
          “Why’s that?”
          “He’s been in and out of here more than most resies. From what I’ve been told, he’s got some extremely zerty kind brain depreciation. Incurable. So he has good days and bad days.”
          “Let’s hope it’s one of his good days.”
          Tell nodded but didn’t look that hopeful.
          The hallway down to the room was a stark contrast to the opulence of the reception area. The walls, which rose four meters off the ground, were painted in ghost white. The ceiling was curved and painted the same color. The hall contained no windows but only strong circular wifi-enabled LEDs embedded in strategic points in the ceiling. There was also not a single item of décor. Apart from the door that marked each room, the hallway was featureless. It was like walking down a long, sterile white tunnel.
Room 96 was near the end of the hall. As Tell had stated, they got there in just under four minutes, which also confirmed that Coney and Searcy could have only had a brief exchange of words. It also established that Searcy didn’t stop along his way.
          The inside of the room was just as sterile and austere as the hallway. In it were a standard synced EXODesk® and Mirra2® chair combo, which stood against the north-facing wall, and an adjustable SleepMAG® floating bed near the west-facing wall. Apart from these items of furniture, there was nothing else in the room. A tall, narrow window cut through the east-facing wall, letting in a thin stream of natural light that augmented the two embedded LEDs in the ceiling. The scuffmark that Tell had mentioned to Martinex was just before the EXODesk® and the discoloring he identified was a three-centimeter-by-three-centimeter stain on the door.
Both suggest Searcy had been sitting at the desk, got up suddenly, and forcefully exited the room. Kaleb scanned the stain and the algorithm used by D-Tec® identified it as that of 67 percent plasma (from blood), 19 percent humic acid (from soil), and 15 percent epidermal cells (from skin). The data stream identified the composition of the blood and skin to be an exact genetic match to Dr. Searcy.
          “Wish I had one of those. We still have to eSend® our scans to the central office,” Andreas suddenly said, looking over Kaleb’s shoulder. “Anyway, great to see we can now prove Searcy was in this room.”
Martinex smiled. “And we have proof that an attempt was made on his life here, which tells me that Searcy may have eluded his attacker somehow and then made his way down the hall, where Misha saw him.”
          “Sounds plausible.”
          “But it still doesn’t explain how he got in the ferns.”
          “There’s not that much blood here. Maybe he walked out the east exit and that’s as far as he got to?”
          “Maybe, but the ferns look a little too tidy for him to have just collapsed there, but then again, there’s no evidence of a struggle here. You think the killer would’ve let Searcy go? I mean it’s possible the scag pursued after him initially and then gave up for some reason. Maybe it was to avoid being seen by Misha? I guess the in-room Serveill® feed will . . .” Martinex’s lightning-fast thoughts paused briefly and then he continued, “But, on the other hand, if Searcy hadn’t eluded the killer, you’d expect to find significantly more evidence to support that, like prints or another body lying around so that pretty much rules that out. Unless . . . yeah, unless they stayed behind to do the cleanup, but then, why leave the scuffmark and the bloodstain? Were they interrupted? No, no witnesses. And you would’ve told me if you had found bloodstains or scuffmarks down the hall to the east exit. No. There’s got to be another explanation.”
          “See, Martinex, I knew we had you on the job for some reason.”
          Kaleb shot him a playfully skeptical look and then began to do an electromagnetic scan of the room to see if there was anything else to pick up. Surprisingly, there was virtually nothing to identify anyone else’s presence in the room. On the floor, he found a nanoscopic residue of humic acid that matched the molecular composition of the humic acid that was on the door, suggesting Searcy most likely tracked it in from the outside. The D-Tec® also revealed numerous prints on the desk and chair, but they were all Searcy’s. Nothing else registered.
          “Andreas, do you think it’s at all possible that Searcy did this to himself?”
          “All things are possible in this world, but what a way to go. You don’t get many people killing themselves by slicing their faces off.”
          “Well, like you said, all things are possible. What do we know about Searcy?”
          “I only know he’s a relatively high-level scientist at Nayfeh-Maldacena. From the talk around the Shelter, he wasn’t difficult or dangerous. There were no registered complaints. The resies here said he was a very kind man. His supervisor told us this morning that he took pride in his work and generally came in, got to it, and then left. I guess you could say his only fault was that he wasn’t into socializing with the other volunteers.”
          “Which usually isn’t something that you get murdered for,” he let the joke hang there a moment and then continued, “So if he’s such an upstanding individual, why would anyone want to kill him or, even stranger, why would he want to kill himself? What was he working on at the Foundation, did you know?”
          “Not sure. He never really talked about his work with anyone. One day I got curious, so I did a quick eSearch of his name and after the introduction, I was completely lost. I was never that good at quantum physics at school. You think this might have something to do with his research?”
          “Why not? That would explain it. Everything right now points to death by tech or a very, very elusive killer.”
          “Well, we’ve had trouble with resies going mad during treatment and . . .”
          “Yeah, but have you ever had one that could disappear without a trace along with all the evidence that would incriminate them?”
          Andreas’s sheepish face showed he hadn’t.
          They left room 96 together. Kaleb continued up the east wing corridor scanning the walls and floors all the way up to the door that Searcy might’ve used as an exit. Residual traces of the same humic acid and plasma were detected. Again, all were Searcy’s.
          “This confirms it. Either Searcy was attacked by an utterly imperceptible man, or he must’ve done this to himself, for some totally zerty reason . . .”
          “You’re absolutely right,” looking at his handheld, “Just got the in-room Serveill® feed. No one other than Searcy was detected on infraMAG® or through GenID®. I’ve seen many things go down at the Shelter but nothing like this.”
         Tell gave a half laugh, half sigh.
         Martinex nodded in agreement. “Well, there’s got to be an explanation for it all. People don’t just cut themselves up like that for no reason.”
          “Sure . . .”
          “Andreas, how ’bout we keep this quiet until we know more? You can tell your team to keep looking for a killer. It might actually turn something up if they think we don’t know anything.”
          “Sounds good.”
          Kaleb didn’t want to tell Andreas that he also thought of the possibility of their being a confederate in his ranks. He thought that there might be someone feeding information to the NMF. Like someone who reported on Dr. Searcy’s habits and whereabouts, or maybe someone who spied on his interactions with resies. Whatever the case, it was a strong possibility that someone there had been involved.
          Tell took Martinex to a small room on the west wing that was serving as the interrogation room. It was just about big enough to fit a rectangular oak table and two matching chairs. In one of the chairs sat Misha Grober, a short, balding man.
          “Misha, this is Officer Martinex. He’s helping us with our enquiries.”
          Misha didn’t move. His head was down, avoiding Kaleb’s eyes.
          “Misha, it would really help me if you could tell me exactly what you saw.” Martinex made sure his tone of voice was soft and gentle.
          The small man kept his eyes to the ground and said nothing.
“It’s okay, Misha. You’re not in trouble. This man just wants you to help him. Nothing more,” Andreas tried coaxing him.
          Misha lifted his head slightly, only to draw it right back down.
          “Please, Misha,” Andreas tried again, “It’s okay. Just tell the man what you told us earlier.”
          After a long silence, and still not looking up, Misha whispered, “It was so, so . . .” then his voice just trailed off.
          Martinex stayed patient and told him, “Just take your time. Whatever you remember will help us to catch the scag who did it.”
          He sighed and forced out, “I-I had just finished yard duty and-and was on . . . on the way to the cafeteria when . . .” and then he faltered again.
          “It’s okay, Misha. Can you tell me where you started from?”
          “I-I was outside the east wing and . . .” he stopped flat.
          This gave Kaleb a chance to ask another question, “Did you see anyone out there before you came in?”
          “No, I didn’t,” he was starting to sound a little more relaxed now, “I had been, uhm, tending the flower beds a-along the wall. I usually do that . . . every morning.” He smiled childlike here. “It’s very peaceful and-and it relaxes me. I’m pretty sure . . . I would’ve heard if someone had been out there.”
          “Thank you, Misha. What did you do after you finished tending the flowers?”
          “I came . . . inside and walked toward the-the cafeteria, and that-that’s when I saw . . . Dr. Searcy. I think it was Dr. Searcy. Sometimes my brain . . .” he weakened and stopped again.
          “It’s okay, Misha. Please just tell me what you saw.”
          “Well, I-I really only saw him because . . . I-I just happened, I just happened to look down the corridor, like you do, and there,” he swallowed big here, “was this figure coming-coming toward me. Oooooh, it-it was soooo awful, I just looked away and-and made my way to the cafeteria.”
          “Misha, I know this might be hard, but could you tell me what was awful about it?”
          He finally looked up, tear-stained, “It-it was his face. All that blood . . . And then when I heard about the body. I knew it wasn’t . . . one of my-my hallucinations. I wish it had been. There was so much blood.” At that moment, he let his head fall again and hid his eyes.
          “Thank you, Misha. I must ask, are you telling me you didn’t know it was him before the body was found?”
          “Yes. I . . . well, I don’t think anyone could. He-he was moving back and forth down the hall with his, with his hands up and shaking . . . Oh, please don’t-don’t ask me . . . I can’t get it out of my head. That face. That blood. It keeps coming and coming. It just won’t stop.” Misha’s eyes were starting to well up again.
          “Sorry, Misha, one last question. I promise. Are you sure you saw no one else in that hallway?”
Misha could manage to nod his head a bit, and then without warning, he shot out of the chair and disappeared out the door.
          Martinex looked at Tell. “Poor man. Well, that confirms what we know so far. It doesn’t get us any closer to a solution, though.”
          Andreas nodded knowingly. “True. What would you suggest is our next course of action?”
          “I’d be happy to make some enquiries at the NMF.”
          Tell seemed to be still processing everything.
          “Okay. Good idea. I’ll send one of my team members along with you. Can’t let them think I’m not still in charge, can I?”


____________________________________________________________________________________________________


18


          Natalie and Davan embraced one another for several minutes. 
          Neither spoke. Neither could speak.
          Ecstatic tears flowed.
          Pulling away, they looked joyfully at one another briefly and then hugged one another again. This time, they held on to each other longer.
          Drawing apart, both had inescapable smiles.
          “You wouldn’t believe how ultra-brill it is to see you . . . like this! I mean, up and about and everything,” Davan began.
          “You wouldn’t believe how ultra-brill it is to be up and about.”
          Davan giggled through her infinite smile.
          Natalie soon joined her.
          Davan caught her breath and whispered, “I was so worried,” she looked down slightly, “I thought . . . I thought I’d killed you.”
          “Well, didn’t I tell you not to bother me with your zerty project?”
          Davan didn’t laugh but looked cross.
          “Davan, look at me.”
          She only raised her head a tiny bit.
          “Come on, look at me.”
          She halfheartedly lifted her head all the way up, meeting Natalie’s eyes.
          “First, I feel fine and Dr. Peake says there’s no residual damage, so there’s no real harm done. And second, I know you didn’t do any of this on purpose, so let’s drop this you-were-trying-to-kill-me talk. It’s not going to help either of us. Okay?”
          “But . . .”
          “No buts. This time, I think I have earned the right to put my foot down. I’ve just returned from the dead, you know.”
          This got at least a half-smile out of Davan. She then looked intently at Natalie, and after a few seconds, managed, “Well, for someone who’s just returned from the dead, I must say you look incredible.”
          “Really?” Natalie brightly smiled and then put on a voice of a cheap VR actor, “I’m sure I’m a mess. I haven’t had a shower or done my hair or anything.”
          “Well, I’m sure we can take care of that,” this came from the beaming face of Dr. Peake, who had just stepped into the room.
          Davan turned and walked over to him, “Oh, Dr. Peake, I can’t thank you enough!”
          “Well, we couldn’t have let Ms. Linqvist stay that way forever, could we? I’m just glad to have worked it out. She had me worried there, but I got there in the end. It was just a matter of finding the right starting point, and I’m sure Ms. Linqvist would be happy to hear that it was you,” gesturing at Davan, “who pointed me in the right direction.”
          “Didn’t know you had medical training, Davan,” Natalie threw out.
          “I’m not . . .”
          “Oh, ho, ho, I’m not saying that,” Dr. Peake interrupted, “but Dr. Yazdani steered me back toward alternative rudimentary diagnostics and that’s all I needed, or I guess I should say, all Ms. Linqvist needed. Anyway, isn’t it great to see her fully active?”
          “It most certainly is!” Davan declared.
          “Now, Ms. Linqvist, how about that shower? I’m sure, as you said, you could use one. Dr. Yazdani, you did bring that change of clothes, didn’t you?” Davan lifted a bag. “Yes, great.”
          “I was just joking. I don’t re . . .” Natalie tried.
          “Nonsense. Please. Take advantage of our facilities. You might as well, your taxes are paying for them.” He was grinning big.
          “I think it’ll be good for you. I’ll wait for you downstairs. Just text me when you’re coming down,” Davan also added.
          Natalie reluctantly agreed and grabbed the bag out of Davan’s hand. This brought a raised eyebrow from Dr. Peake, but only a silly smirk from Davan.
          Davan’s eyes followed Natalie as she slowly walked to the back of the room. This simple act almost made her cry. It was just so magical to see her on her feet, to see her moving again. Davan felt exceedingly thankful. She continued standing there, watching Natalie, until she had completely disappeared behind the bathroom door before turning toward the corridor. She didn’t get very far.
          Dr. Peake was standing in the doorway. His face was earnest but full of enthusiasm. He spoke before she said anything, “Sorry, Dr. Yazdani, I didn’t want to tell you this in front of Ms. Linqvist since it has nothing to do with her recovery, but I think it will be beneficial to both of us to discuss aspects regarding her previous awakening and also the findings of her personal genome analysis and her proteomics readings. I’m more than happy that she’s no longer troubled by what I found, but since they vanished, it only begs the question as to what they were exactly and how they got there in the first place, especially that simDNA. I’m sure whatever we discuss would help you in your research as well and I know it would help me to be better prepared to treat cases similar to Ms. Linqvist.”
          “I was actually going to buzz you later today about this, so it sounds good to me. I definitely need to hear more about your discoveries and how you discovered them. Whatever you can tell me, I’m sure will be invaluable to my research. And, to hell with my employer. After what you did, I’d be more than happy to share with you what I’ve discovered, but to be honest, Dr. Peake, I can’t guarantee everything will be germane to the medical field.”
          “That’s okay. If you don’t mind providing me with the information, I’ll take my best pike at figuring out what could be useful to me. You don’t know how helpful you’ve been to me already.”
          Davan inwardly smiled, This didn’t seem like the same man.
          Dr. Terence Peake’s face beamed with child-like expectancy.
          Davan couldn’t resist.
          “Uh . . . Okay. I owe you so much already. How ’bout I send my files tomorrow, after I’ve converted them into a more user-friendly format?”
          “Excellent!” Dr. Peake clasped both of his hand together tightly. “I should be able to get you my files this evening!”
          Dr. Peake quickly walked away but stopped short and faced Davan again. “And don’t hesitate to contact me if you discover something new. Day or night.”
          “Okay. Thanks.”
          “It’s all part of the service,” the doctor wore a big, boyish smile.
          Davan watched him go. He seemed to bound away. She snorted out a laugh and then made her way toward the WalkSafe® conveyor. In many ways, she understood exactly how Dr. Peake was feeling. It felt like it had been a lifetime since she had had something to be so happy about, and now with the breakthrough in her research and Natalie’s full recovery, she was finally reaping some positives. Her natural cynicism wanted to fight this, but she wouldn’t let it. Not today. This was a truly good day. She needed to saturate herself in that so that it could be her wellspring toward tomorrow and into the future.
          The waiting room was full of the usual chaos, but Davan was able to filter it all out this time. Now she felt like she was the only person in the room. Time was also irrelevant, so much so that it seemed like only seconds had passed when she heard her handheld receive a text.
          coming down now
          Davan saw Natalie arrive a few minutes later looking all scrubbed and new.
          “You were right, Davan. I definitely needed that. And guess what, they have one of those ultra-sonic nondamaging TRAG® hair dryers I wanted to buy. Took me nanoseconds to dry my hair. One pulse and it was done. It’s also got some terrific styling settings too.”
          Davan laughed, “You sound just like one of those VR holo ads.”
          “He-e-e-y,” Natalie shot her a playful look, “Well, anyway, I’m ordering one as soon as we get home.”
          “Say, Natalie, how ’bout we celebrate? You wanna go out to eat. I’ll treat. You feel like Greek fusion or Thai?”
          Natalie hesitated. Normally she’d jump at an offer like that, but being back from the dead didn’t exactly mean she was ready for the high life.
          Davan filled the gap with, “Or I know what, why don’t we go to that new Indian restaurant you’d mentioned? You said everyone said the tech was truly zonkers and the food was excellent. What was the name of that place?”
          Natalie didn’t waver this time, “Chandigarh Spice. You mean you really want to go there? Thought you didn’t like Indian food?”
          “No, I’m just not as adventurous with my palate as you are.”
          “Adventurous? What about that soup your parents made for us with the sheep’s brain and hooves in it? You said you had that nearly every morning as a kid.”
          “That’s different. That’s a trad dish. Besides, you get used to things easier as a child. Your tastes change as you get older. I wasn’t trying . . .”
          Natalie’s big cheeky smile and slight tilt of the head stopped Davan in midsentence.
          “What?” Davan couldn’t help asking.
          “It’s really great being back to normal again.”
          Natalie laughed out loud.
          Davan paused and met Natalie’s eyes momentarily. She was right. Davan then exploded with silly giggles. They remained in hysterics for several minutes, drawing stares from nearly everyone in the waiting room.
          Once Davan caught her breath, she asked with pretend annoyance, “So, do you want try this Chandigarh place or not?”
          “Sure, I’d love to!”
          With that, they looped arms and left the building like two old A-prime school chums.
          Outside, the dark clouds and the light rain didn’t dampen their spirits. Truth be told, they didn’t even notice it. The fully automated Nagochi IntraTrans Hydrail pulled up just as they were descending the depot steps. Such sweet synchronicity gave them the impression that it had been arranged just for them. Davan and Natalie floated through the sliding doors and glided over to the nearest pair of seats, oblivious to anyone else on the train. Which didn’t seem to matter, since their behavior wasn’t drawing anyone’s attention. Most people were transfixed on their handhelds or were staring blankly into space, lost to their own personal soundtracks.
Natalie didn’t say much during their journey. She spent a majority of the time, soaking up the subtle details of everything that surrounded her. The veiny grooves on the joins between the resin seats. The sweet, silent hum of the train’s hydrogen engine. A tiny curve of hair that rested delicately on the forehead of a small boy. A loose piece of white thread dangling from the shoulder of a businessman’s suit. The metroplex’s photonic crystal lights streaking through the windows at random intervals. It was like everything was hyperanimated and Natalie’s senses were flooding with information. She could barely contain it all. Everything had its own bounce and dynamism, brimming with creative beauty.
          Seven stops later, they reached their destination and hopped on the WalkSafe® conveyor that brought them toward Ywer Road. Davan had occupied herself on the Public Transit System by tracking down the restaurant, tapping in a reservation and GNSSing the address. Luckily, it was only 300 kilometers from the depot, on one of the busiest and swankest streets in Sector J, so it wouldn’t be hard to find.
          The façade of Chandigarh Spice shimmered like nothing neither of them had ever seen. The massive 3D holographic image projected an extremely ornate marble and sandstone building that was clearly meant to resemble the Taj Mahal. Natalie and Davan stood and stared at its walls studded with an array with turquoises, jaspers, jades, sapphires, lapis lazuli, and many other precious and semi-precious stones. They also took in its colossal central dome, accompanying minarets, and its mirror-image bilateral symmetry throughout. Both hoped that the owners of the restaurant were using the Taj Mahal imagery because of it being a fabled symbol of love versus the fact that it was actually a mausoleum.
          As Davan and Natalie stepped toward the rectangular-framed arched doorway, the maître de dressed in a royal-blue jama with a matching turban emerged from behind the towering front doors. Underneath his bushy dark beard, his bright, white teeth glowed. His appearance read REP®, but he could’ve easily been human since many aspiring VR actors went in for that sort of eccentricity.
          The maître de cupped both his hands together and bowed, “Shubh sandhya and welcome to Chandigarh Spice. May I have your good names?” his accent was strong but still more than clear enough to understand.
          “Huh? Uh . . . I’m Davan Yazdani and this is Natalie Linqvist.”
          The maître de scanned the screen of the handheld in front of him. “Ah, yes, Davan ji and Natalie\ji. Kindly follow me.”
          With a tap of his handheld, the doors opened and he entered with Davan and Natalie close behind.
Inside, the Taj Mahal motif continued. The projected image of the entry chamber was octagonal with doorways leading off to other rooms at each angle. The walls were decorated with dado bas-relief images of intertwining vines, flowers, and fruit of all kinds. The three sizable windows were covered with intricate marble screens. Each emitted enough light to let you see views of Chandigarh’s Sukhna Lake, Rose Garden, or Leisure Valley. Below them, finial tiling marble covered with calligraphy adorned the floor.
          Each artificial Realizer®, both inside and outside, wrapped the actual location so meticulously that they seemed just as solid and just as tangible as the real thing. It was nearly impossible to tell where actual configurations ended and the pretense began. Davan and Natalie couldn’t help being mesmerized by the immense complexity and minute detail that went into generating such a 3D hologram. Clearly, it had cost a titanic fortune but not a single bit had been wasted.
          Though Davan didn’t want to consider her own finances for this evening, she couldn’t help wondering if the elaborate décor would translate into their meal costing her a hefty fortune too.
          “This is magnificent work,” Natalie couldn’t hold back.
          The maître de shined back, “It is pleasing to hear you say this. We actually had an upgradation last month.”
          “Zonkers?”
          “Yes, a system programmer with deep Mughal architecture knowing became available to us. First-class work, I’d say, like he was a Chandigarh desi himself,” his handheld bleeped, “Ah, your table has been arranged. Kindly go through this door.” He pointed with his whole hand to the now opened archway to the immediate left of the center of the octagon.
          As Davan and Natalie made their way there, the maître de said, “Apane bhojan ka aanand len,” and then bowed his head.
          Beyond the archway was a tunnel-like corridor with surfaces just as elaborate as the ones in the entry chamber. Emerging from the other end, Davan and Natalie found themselves in their own private room. Their dining area was perfectly round with one darkened window on the west side and only one door that stood opposite the tunnel. Its walls and ceiling resembled beautiful, ivory spider webs over a burgundy background. Each was fashioned by an incised painting of varied and intricate designs throughout. A small, thick carved sheesham table and two chairs sat in the center, dotted with a vast array of candles in short, pewter candlesticks and a lotus in a fluted-glass budvase in the center.
          To the immediate left of the table stood a man who was the twin of the maître de. The only difference was that his jama and turban were white instead of blue.
          Guess he was a REP® after all, both thought.
          The man exposed his ultra-bright teeth and gestured to the chair closest to him, “Davan ji, kindly sit here.”
          At first, she hesitated, not trusting whether the chair was physical or not, but quickly felt silly since material chairs were necessary in a restaurant.
          The man offered the same courtesy to Natalie, who sat down straightaway.
          “Shubh sandhya. My name is Anukaran. I will be your server this evening. Kindly have a look at our menu.” He handed them two thin tablets. “If you have any doubts, kindly let me know and I will be happy to help you.”
          The two ladies fingered their way through the extensive menu. As they moved from item to item, each one sounded more exotic and more appetizing than the one previous to it. Davan was also relieved to see the prices weren’t totally zerty.
          “While you are deciding your meals,” Anukaran interjected politely, “I will kindly take your drinks orders when you are ready.”
          After a quick glance at the drinks list, Davan ordered a pint of chuak and Natalie ordered a glass of Krsma Sangiovese.
          “Most excellent selections.”
          Anukaran tapped his handheld twice. A section of the wall behind them dissolved and was replaced with a half-moon alcove. Inside the alcove was a small antique silver tray with the two drinks on it. Anukaran retrieved the tray and placed the appropriate glass in front of Davan and the other in front of Natalie. Once he returned the tray, the alcove disappeared and the wall’s lattice designs changed from burgundy and ivory to cream webs with a marigold background.
          Davan and Natalie let their heads swivel up and around, mesmerized.
          “I will kindly leave you now to enjoy your aperitifs. Should you have any doubts about the menu, or if you are ready to order, please tap the server icon on the top right of the menu and I will return presently.”
          With that, Anukaran brightly grinned, bowed, and withdrew through the door.
          “They were right, this place is plenty zonkers,” Davan was still looking about her, “If the food is as good as the décor, we’re in for the feast of a lifetime.”
          “I told you Justin and Carole raved about this place, and you know what kind of foodies they are. But I almost don’t care if it’s that good. It’s just so breathtaking to look at.”
          “No argument there.” Davan lifted her glass in Natalie’s direction, “A toast.”
          “Okay,” lifting her glass.
          “To your renewed existence. No wait, that’s stupid . . . To your safe return and a long, healthy life. Salâmati.”
          “Salâmati.”
          They clinked glasses and took big sips of their drinks.
          Natalie smacked her lips pleasingly, “Whirly-whirly-whirl, that’s good. How’s yours?”
          “For a beer made from rice, it’s very nice.”
          Natalie took another sip, “Is there anything in particular you want to try from the menu?”
          “You know this food better than I do. How ’bout you order for the both of us?”
          “Okay!”
          She scrolled back through the menu.
          “Natalie . . . I-I think I’ve discovered the source of what happened to you. I don’t mean its point of origin but what may have been the immediate cause of your . . . your reaction.”
          “Oh,” Natalie didn’t look up.
          “Yes. It was a zeptospheric particle that turns out to be a superpartner. It somehow came through the virtual space folds I made in my project. I’m still working on it, but I think . . .”
          Natalie was now glaring at her.
          Davan fought against continuing.
          “Davan, could we please never talk about that zerty project of yours again? I’d rather put it behind us and move on. Please.”
          “But it’s . . .”
          “Listen,” her voice was earnest but had no edge, “I know it’s really important to you. I knew that before this all happened, but whatever you’ve discovered, whatever it is, could you save that for your colleagues at the lab? I just can’t. I hope you understand.”
          Davan looked away, nodding her head.
          “Thanks. Now, tell me, how’s Jaco? I hope you looked after him while I was away.”
          Davan was still fighting the urge to say more about her discovery.
          “He’s okay, right?”
          Davan swallowed hard, “Yes, he’s fine. I could only feed him once over the past couple days though,” her voice was a bit too serious for the information.
          “That’s okay,” smiling, “He’s getting a little pudgy as it is.”
          Davan wanted desperately to smile back but failed. Then, almost like autopilot, she again recalled everything that made this day precious, and how necessary it was for both of them to enjoy it. She quickly relaxed and was able to smile again.
          “I think I found the perfect meal for us. First, we’ll have dahi vada as our appetizer.”
          Natalie tapped on the menu item and a small 3D AromatImage® appeared above the screen as trace scents of chili, cumin, and ginger wafted through the room around them. The hologram was so lifelike that you could almost taste it.
          “And for our main course, we’ll have lamb pasanda because it’s my absolute favorite,” a new tap and a new stimulating ambrosial image, “Then, for our side, dal makhani,” another tap and a spicy image, “. . . and, of course, garlic naan,” tap, pungent image, “. . . and for our rice dish, either Scheherazade biryani, which is Iranian style, so you might like that, or we can try Hyderabadi chicken biryani.” Natalie tapped the alternate hologram a couple times. “What do you think?”
          A zerty blend of smells still lingered in the air and Davan breathed in deeply.
           “Mmmmm. Looks and smells incredible, Natalie. I’d say we should go for that Hyderabadi rice dish, because if I’m going to be daring, I’d rather not have anything too familiar.”
           “Looks like we have a plan!” She tapped the server icon.
          Anukaran returned instantly, “Davan ji and Natalie ji, you have decided?”
           “Yes.” Natalie handed Anukaran her tablet.
          He verified all the items were checked and swiped away the server icon. This was instantly replaced with a chef icon and he tapped that.
           “Once again, most excellent selections. I will kindly let the chef know of them and your appetizer shall be coming presently, followed of course by your main course. I will kindly leave you the other menu if you have doubts, or if you change your mind. Kindly tap the server icon if I am not in the room.”
          With that, Anukaran disappeared behind the door again.
          The room’s color scheme shifted again. This time, the incised lattice designs changed to snow white with an ultramarine background. Adding to this, the window image gradually blackened and the walls and ceiling slowly filled with tiny laser diodes that pulse at random intervals. This gave them the impression that they were sitting on a veranda under the stars.
          Natalie’s jaw nearly dropped.
           “Carol told me that their dining areas were state-of-the-art, but I had no idea . . . I mean Autumn Coriander uses holos of the Umaid Bhavan Palace and even I could tell those were a bit pixeled in areas. It was nothing like this. I had to avoid looking in those areas, so I wouldn’t get dizzy. And you know how hard it is to not look at something once you’ve seen it. For sure, I’ll never go back there again.”
           “Yeah. I can’t get over it. I thought the 3D holographics at the lab were the best out there, but I think this far surpasses them,” she paused and looked around again and then let her eyes fall on Natalie, who was intently staring up at the ceiling, captivated by the twinkle of the diodes.
           “So glad we came here,” Davan finally said.
           “Uh-huh. Me too,” still looking at the ceiling.
           This solidly put things into perspective for Davan. Some things in life were more important than work. She felt the sting of how self-centered she had been. Davan’s parents had always encouraged her independence, but there’s always a downside to everything. You can isolate yourself too much. Shut yourself off from the world. You end up missing out on things and people totally fade into the background. Yes, there was no mistaking the practical necessity of her research, but it should never have been at the expense of the relationships around her. Davan couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken to her parents or her sister. And of course, over the past few years, Natalie had been there through the worst of it: a regular recipient of her occasional irritable mood swings, her long spells of isolation, and her tendency toward semiconscious neglect. Sure, Natalie could be a nag at times, but it didn’t mean she should be mistreated like that. No one did. Davan swore to herself that as soon as she completed her current project, she would take some significant time off to rebuild things with Natalie. No work. Just good, clean, mindless fun.
          Natalie remained transfixed on her surroundings, much like did she was on the PTS but deeper. The minutest facets and features were more hypnotic now, and as she stared on, they felt more and more tangible to her like they were penetrating through her skin and the colors and the lights were filling her entire being. If Davan had asked her to describe the sensation, she wouldn’t have been able to, except to say that everything was beautifully pleasant. It was giving her the sense that she had some kind of deep, intense connection to her environment. Something transcendent.
          The crack of the door opening behind them nearly knocked Davan out her chair. Anukaran entered, “Many apologies. Your dahi vada is now ready for serving,” and he tapped his handheld and an alcove appeared immediately to the right of the one that had opened earlier. It was twice its size and contained a steaming hot antique silver platter and a complementary serving spoon. Before serving them, he placed solid white resin plates and a set of silver-plated resin utensils in front of each of them.
          “Apane bhojan ka aanand len
          Anukaran bowed and left the room in the same way he came in.
          Davan took in the aroma of the spices and was about to enjoy her first bite when she saw her friend was still locked on the ceiling.
          “Natalie.”
          No reaction.
          “Hey, Natalie. Food’s here.”
          Still no reaction.
          “Hey, Natalie. Stop being so zerty. Your food’s going to get cold.”
          The same.
          Davan, now concerned, waved her hand in front of Natalie’s face. She looked right through it.
What the . . .? Davan got up and got ahold of Natalie’s shoulders and gave them a gentle shake.
          Natalie blinked a couple times and turned her face toward Davan, beaming from ear to ear.
          “It’s just so whirly,” she said in a dreamlike way.
          Davan sat, “Right. Yeah. It’s stunning. You had me scared there.”
          She looked across at her curiously, and after a short pause, said, “Oh . . . sorry.”
          “You okay, Natalie?”
          “Never felt better.”
          Davan was still suspicious, but she let it slide, “They served the dada vadi thing.”
          Natalie giggled.
          Davan wasn’t sure why but accepted it with a smile.
          As they tucked into their appetizers, Natalie was savoring each bite, chewing them slowly and methodically. She’d precede this by forking up the food, holding it before her eyes, and then finally putting it in her mouth. Davan also thought the dahi vada tasted good but not that good. She initially put Natalie’s behavior down to her having just escaped death and was now treating every moment as extremely precious, but this seemed like something more than this. At the same time, she seemed blissfully happy, so whatever it was, it didn’t seem like Davan needed to worry too much about it.
          Davan tapped the server icon and Anukaran replaced their empty platter with three new serving trays containing their main course and sides, as well as a small basket of soft, spongy flat bread. He again wished them to enjoy their meal and withdrew with the dirty dishes in his hands.
Natalie had followed every action their server had made, and this time remained fixed on the door after he exited. A smile never left her face.
          Davan gently turned her head in the direction of the food. This changed her line of sight but she still just stared at everything. Davan wasn’t sure what to do, so she served Natalie decent portions of each item and even put the fork in her hand. This changed things again, but she only became absorbed by the food on her plate. It was like she was studying each and every molecule of the food.
          Davan looked around her, as if something in the room could help her. She smiled nervously. The only thought that came to mind was to shake Natalie again since it had worked before.
But then, she spoke suddenly, “I never noticed before how the surface of the curry sauce is accentuated by little tiny lines and ridges in the lamb. See,” she pointed within millimeters of the pasanda, “They create this kind of whirly texture on it. It’s exquisite, don’t you think?” Her voice, again, had that ethereal tone to it.
          At first, Davan didn’t want to respond. This is way too zerty. But she forced out, “Yeah. It’s very nice.”
          “Oh, I think it’s more than nice. It’s wondrous. Look closer.”
          This wasn’t Natalie.
          Davan ignored her request, “It probably tastes wondrous too. Why don’t you try it?”
          Natalie was about to continue scanning her food but stopped short and grinned big. “That sounds like a marvelous idea,” she gushed and resumed her unhurried and systematic approach to enjoying the food.
          Davan watched her, waiting for a change.
          None came.
          What did Peake do to her? Did he give her some sort of happy pill? I’m sure he would’ve told me if he had prescribed something. Wouldn’t he have? Or maybe whatever he removed from her also boosted all her positive personality traits? I’ve heard that can happen, but why would it have such a delayed effect? Could it have been because of the food and drinks absorbing it? Or maybe it’s overstimulated her senses somehow? But how? Or why? Whatever it is, this is definitely too much of a good thing.
          She looked sympathetically at her.
          Guess this isn’t over.
          Davan was just about to put the first bite of food in her mouth when her phone buzzed. Normally she wouldn’t have wanted to be bothered on a night out, but she positively welcomed any distraction at that moment.
          “Hey, Davs. Uh . . . I hope I’m not interruptin’ anythin’.”
          She nearly burst with laughter.
          “Ah, I take it that somethin’s goin’ on?”
          Alistair was standing on the porch of a house she didn’t recognize.
          “Oh it’s Natalie again.”
          “Still not pulled through yet, eh? Give it some time. Somethin’ will turn up.”
          “No, that’s not it at all.”
          “What?”
          Davan looked over at Natalie. She was still deeply engrossed in her food. Then she continued, “Well, for starters, Natalie’s awake. Wide-awake, in fact. Dr. Peake figured it out. And actually, we’re celebrating with a dinner out.”
          “Really?! Brilliant, Davs! That’s top news! I’m sure you’re over the moon, eh.”
          “Yeah,” she said, totally deflated.
          “You don’t sound too canty about that.”
          “It’s not that. It’s just that she’s different.”
          “How’ya mean different?”
          “Well,” she eyed Natalie again and there was no change. Then Davan humorlessly delivered, “She’s-she’s positive about everything.”
          “That don’t sound zerty a’tall. Weren’t you the one who said she was always pesterin’ you ’bout somethin’ or other?”
          “I know. I know,” she remained deadly serious, “But this is different. Really different. It’s like she’s in a trance or something.” She looked once more at Natalie, who seemed completely unaware that Davan was in the room with her; still, Davan got much quieter at this point, “One moment, she’s back to normal and the next, she acting like she’s fucking flipped out on some stim. I don’t know if it’s something the doctor gave her or something related to my fucking project. Though I’m sure it is probably somehow related to that fucking zerty zepto-sphere. This is way too zerty to be a prescript. Oh, I don’t know. Here I was just thinking that she was alright, everything’s going to go back to normal, but then she . . . Shit, I don’t know. I just wish I had never shown her that fucking thing and then none of this would’ve happened. It’s all so . . .” Davan let her voice trail off as the emotion began to build.
          Alistair’s mind fused in on her mentioning the zeptosphere and he immediately wanted to probe her about it but was sensitive enough to reconsider it and made this response instead, “Listen, Davs. We can gab later. I can see your hands’r full.”
          She took a few seconds to register this and then said, “Sorry, Al. It’s tromped me hard. We went out to celebrate and now it looks like there’s nothing to celebrate at all.”
          “No-no worries, Davs. That’s a real twanker. Why don’t you just buzz me when you ge’ home. I’ve got a few things goin’ here. Okay?”
          “Yeah . . . uh . . . okay.”
          “An’ uh, Davs . . . I hope Natalie gets better.”
          “Me too.”
          Silence returned to the room. Davan tried to fight from being distressed again, but she could tell it was slowly slipping out of her hands.