System Seven (65 page)

To know how to disguise is the knowledge of kings.

- Cardinal De Richelieu, 1585 – 1642, French Statesman

Doreen König stood in
the kitchen rinsing breakfast dishes and listening to news on the radio. Her
husband Karl had just left for the hardware store to pick up supplies to repair
the drooping roof on the hencoop. She suppressed mild anxiety at his absence
and focused on the news.

Out the window, the
morning’s snow lay stark against the blackened timbers of George and Faiga’s
barn. Memories of that night still frightened her. At some point it would be
torn down. The sooner the better.

She put a mixing bowl
in the dishwasher. A pair of headlights on the lane caught her eye. A gray Land
Rover slowed at the Bergmann’s drive, came to a stop, then turned in. She saw
only a driver.

“Oh dear.”

She toweled her hands
and quickly went to the side of the refrigerator to unclip a piece of paper.
She carried it with her to the den where she found Karl’s binoculars. Back in
the kitchen, she turned off the lights and raised the glasses to spy on the
visitor.

At first he just sat
there, parked next to the house, staring at the barn. There wasn’t enough light
to see his face clearly. She glanced down at the sketch though she really
didn’t need to. The face it portrayed had already been burned into her mind.

The car door opened
and the man emerged. He stood for a moment and then turned to look in her
direction. No, directly
at
her. She
shivered and put the glasses down, relieved. At least it wasn’t
him
.

The man walked towards
the barn a few steps and again stopped, as if unsure. She used the glasses to
watch him, lost in the wondering of who he was. He turned towards the house then
and came upon the front porch. He rang the bell. With no answer, he knocked on
the door.

Nothing about him felt
dangerous. It seemed possible it was a friend who had not heard. She decided it
would be worth it to go and talk to the man. If she hurried, she could be back
before Karl returned. Knowing she’d gone over to meet a stranger at the
Bergmann’s would anger him no end.

• • •

She came out finally,
donned in boots and a winter coat, responding to his manipulation. She was
worried the Butcher of Rotterdam was back to finish the job. What exactly had
happened he couldn’t tell and worry demanded he get the full story. George and
Faiga weren’t home and hadn’t been by the feel of it.

Since the night he’d
left, he hadn’t dared to reach out for fear of bringing harm their way. In
truth, he’d also been afraid of what he might learn if he did. His love and
regard for them made not knowing a gnawing thing that he had to resolve. Coming
to visit under a ruse would allow him to know.

He turned to his car
as if to leave and acted surprised when he saw the woman approach.

“Hello.”

She nodded. “You’re
looking for the Bergmanns?”

“I am. George and
Faiga?”

“I’m Doreen, their
neighbor.” She accepted his offered handshake.

“Are they on
vacation?”

“Who are you, may I ask?”

He introduced himself
as Ben Roth, a reverse mortgage specialist.

“I see. Well, they
aren’t on vacation and they won’t be needing your services. They’ve moved to a
care home. The place is for sale.”

“Ah, a care home.” He
turned to look at the barn. “That looks recent. What happened? Everyone okay?”

“Yes, no one was hurt.
Arson, they say.”

She had a story
involving intrigue and the Butcher and needed just a nudge from him to feel
comfortable telling it. From her thoughts he knew the gist of it without
asking. They’d had the murderer in their home and later, when the barn burned,
they attributed it to him. It burned his soul to think of Faiga thinking of him
that way.

There was no helping
it. He imagined finding Faiga to explain things and having the Korda repair
George’s mind but knew it wasn’t a reasonable thought. They were near their own
natural end, in the world they knew. He had to fight the impulse to change it.

He thanked Doreen and
left her company before she could get started talking. He returned to the
warmth of the rental. With a final glance at the barn and house, he turned
around and headed back down the drive to the lane.

We have inherited the past; we can create the future.

- Source unknown

Austin and Kaiya
walked along the path near the giraffe exhibit. The catcalls of the red apes
they’d just left made Austin smile. He squeezed Kaiya’s hand and adjusted his
shades.

“What? What are they
saying?”

“Just be glad you
aren’t in their cage.”

His meta skills were
improving with the second stage of training. Kaiya’s training was underway,
too, and Edward had ordered round the clock covering services from the dùnadh-enhanced
bràthair for both of them. Her new body was a suicide recovery, though the wrist
wounds had been repaired. It was as close to her old body as she could have
asked.

He steered them
towards the rear of the park. It was busy for a Wednesday in January, despite
the blustery wind and chill in the air. The bombings terrorizing the nation had
stopped and people were eager to take back the norm. Groups of school children
swarmed the pathways and clung to the rails and fences of the exhibits. The
previous night’s rains left the zoo’s shaded pathways damp and the smells fresh
and poignant.

The animals all
alerted to his presence and seemed to be following his progress in different
ways. Some managed to extend their meta, some passively tracked his, keen on
its difference from those in the crowd. A lion roared nearby. Austin felt its
unhappy protest, part demand and part interest. Not all the animals resented
their captivity but the lions certainly did.

She sipped her soda
from a straw. “What do you want to do after this?”

“I’m open. What are
you thinking?”

“I’m thinkin’ Long
Beach.”

“La Palapa.” The
restaurant they’d first met in.

“Of course.”

Kaiya’s biocat program
had her looking very nearly her old self, something Edward didn’t want them to
do. She shrugged it off, knowing they were protected. Their day in LA wasn’t
exactly about recapturing the old days but it had some of that feel. Returning
to their roots had an undeniable grounding effect.

They neared their
destination and the crowd grew thick around the exhibit. Already he heard the
vocalizing. Kids and chaperones created a sea of humanity with behavior not
unlike the animals they’d come to see. They managed to squeeze in along the
rail directly across from the rock house that staff had penned the chimpanzee’s
“penthouse”. The males were in motion, apparently agitated for no reason.

He spotted a female
atop the penthouse holding onto her young chimp. The little one was standing
and uncharacteristically scanning the crowds.

“There, the little one
on top.”

Kaiya smiled. “Aww. Is
she looking for you?”

He did his own passive
scan. Satisfied there was no threat, he extended across the distance to Darcy.
She jumped up and down on contact and her mother kept hold of her to contain
her. She looked directly at him, pointing and patting her shoulders, as excited
as any kid. Their meta mixed and Darcy vocalized to emphasize the message that
she had gotten better and that she had grown.

He resonated love back
to her.

The little chimp
danced and hollered and turned to hug her momma. The older chimp glanced over
and emoted a deep maternal gratitude. The alpha male hollered and beat his
chest. The other males joined to create a racket.

Being upstaged was
never a pleasant experience for a male.

They took lunch at La
Palapa and browsed the simple memories of their past, marveling at what had once
passed as trials and tribulations. Cramming for finals, a missed job
opportunity, a late rent payment... they sat silent for a while and let it sink
in. The terrors and wonders of the last several months had carved new lines of
appreciation for life and for the unknown.

A sympathy had also
formed for the bulk of humanity that lived in the fish bowl, barely interested
in what was beyond it. They agreed that in some ways ignorance was bliss but
also knew a comparative analysis would easily favor meta-awareness. So much of
mental illness was actually the result of unfiltered input causing neurotic
reactions. The change had to continue. People had to make sense of their
connectedness.

“That’s what it’s all
about, really.” Austin stirred his tea. “Accessing the gestalt that’s been kept
locked up. Taking it back and unifying around it.”

“Philanthropy
shouldn’t be as treacherous as this.”

He managed a chuckle.
“You aren’t kidding. Damned Robin Hoods, all of us.”

“What do you most want
to do? What do you want to see change?” she asked.

“All of it.” He
half-grinned. “Really, that’s tough to answer. Part of me would say the
medicines, free energy, cleaning the food supply. Control of those keep the
structures of power in place. Clean up government. Economics could be reworked
and quickly. The new tech would render so much suffering obsolete. Out with
greed, in with our highest ideals. Another part of me says break down the
barriers to meta awareness first. If people knew how connected we really are,
we could face the challenges together. Leverage resources to improve all of
humanity’s experience. It would change the world. I understand that might be a
bit naïve, but it depends on how we do it.” He drank his tea and watched a
waiter seat a couple at a nearby table. “I can’t help but think of all the
people who worked against odds to make a difference. History’s filled with
heroes who tried. They scratched at the surface without knowing how thick the
truth was.”

“Or how serious the
consequences would be for trying.”

“Exactly.”

He again thought of
Yuni and his dad and Javier and all the people lost around the world. Guilt
pinged his core with a familiar ring. They had not been able to visit her
mother’s grave, though memories of her funeral had been provided. Word of his
father had not yet surfaced though Johan would continue searching. His fate
weighed most heavily but he suppressed it out of regard for Kaiya’s actual
loss.

She wadded up the
paper cover of her straw. “I’m just glad we have a better chance. Seems the idea
of karmic balance really is a facet of nature and not only on the micro scale.
It’s just taken a while to swing back this way.”

“Karma needs force to
operate. The transfer of power.”

“You and Johan are
part of that now.”

“We all need to be.”
He sighed. He was failing at keeping his mood up. Instead of encouraging her,
she was striving to prop him up in the moment.

Kaiya looked out the
window at the beach. Down a ways, crowds gathered at a kite competition. The
loops and dips and the effort by those on the ground revealed the sport that it
was.

“Hey,” she said.
“Let’s take a walk.”

They strolled the sand
at surf’s edge and watched the kites ahead. The wind ran steady and brisk off
the water and buffeted the nylon constructs. The flyers were talented, their
acrobatics well-practiced.

A local radio
station’s van was out with its mast up and their event canopy looked ready to
tear away in the wind. The DJ acted as master of ceremonies for the
competition. Kids on their father’s shoulders waved at the kites dancing in the
sky.

“So answer me this,” Kaiya
said, putting her arm through his. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about the wind
and the out of body experiences?”

“Really? C’mon. What
would you have thought?”

She considered it.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I probably would have wondered about you. The UFO
stuff was bad enough.”

“Which is exactly what
I didn’t want. Hell, I didn’t want to wonder about myself.”

“Now look at you.
Telekinetic talent. First contact. Someday you’ll be famous.”

“Don’t hold your
breath. And first contact wasn’t me.”

“Don’t be so negative.
You’re one of the first. It’s amazing.” They walked in silence for a bit before
she asked, “Has anyone mentioned your mom?”

“My mom? What about
her?”

“She reached out to
you in the dream, didn’t she?”

“Maybe. It sure felt
like it.”

“It was her, I’m sure
of it.”

He slowed. “Why do you
say that?”

She looked up at him.
“I had a dream last night about Mac Payant. He said there was something that
you needed to know.”

“What?”

“That the accident
that killed her wasn’t an accident.”

“And my dad knew
that?”

She nodded. “He had
gotten mixed up with something that he wasn’t supposed to. Her death was their
response. He knew you would have been next.”

“Fuck.” He stopped and
stared out past the waves. “
Fuck.
” It
explained all the shit he’d received from him over the years. He’d been trying
to steer him clear of trouble, despite his affiliation. A new layer of guilt
formed around the irony. On its heels came a more anger at the Comannda and the
system it had created.

Kaiya faced him, hands
on his stomach. “Wait. Don’t lose yourself in it. Please, listen. Your mom
appeared in the dream, too. She thanked me and told me to tell you she loves
you. She also said your dad isn’t dead.”

A mixed thrill shot
through him, lifting his hopes. In the next instant he faltered, wondering if
her dream had been another manipulation by the Korda to keep him positive. Kaiya
followed his thoughts.

“I don’t think it was
Edward’s doing, I really don’t. I can’t say why, it’s just there, in my gut. I
think it was your mom, Austin. I felt her love for your dad and I felt her
longing for him.”

“Does she know he
worked for them? Did she know?”

Kaiya’s face showed
her sadness. “I wish I knew, babe, I really do. Either way, it’s important to
know he chose you over them. Every time. That helps, right?”

“There’s no guarantee
he still will, is there? Or that he’s who I think he is.” He realized his tone
had been biting. “I’m sorry.”

“No, there isn’t a
guarantee and not knowing makes it hard, but at least he’s not passed on. He
still has a chance. There is still hope and you’d better not lose it.”

He walked on, not
wanting to draw attention. The wind tossed their hair and made the kites dance
overhead. It seemed secrets would always haunt him, that truths would never be
fully exposed. His dad was a mystery and it hurt knowing what he did. Hope was
hard to feel.

She patted his
stomach. “You wanna be cruel?”

“What?”

She looked up. “The
wind, silly.”

“Ah. Too risky.” It
wasn’t exactly true but it was an effective deflection. The day’s semblance of a
normal life felt so good that exercising his telekinetics felt freakish.

“C’mon, I don’t mean
bending, I mean reach out to the wind. Do it like you did when you were a kid.
Try for me, I’m curious. You need to shake this funk.”

He hesitated, not
ready to give up the emotions swirling about.

“You said it seemed
intelligent somehow. Who knows what that really means? And when was the last
time you tried?”

He looked down, then
away to the ocean’s horizon. The ancient trackways Cathbad spoke of seemed to
run through everything, throughout time. He had to get better at spotting them.
This felt like one. When he looked back at her, it was with a mix of gratitude
and respect for her and for the universe at once.

“Years, actually.”

“It can’t hurt, I
don’t think.”

They retreated to a
spot some distance from the competition where she sat and he laid down, ankles
crossed.

“Post-lunch sleepies.
I might fall asleep.”

She nudged his ribs
with her knee. “I’ll keep you awake.”

He closed his eyes and
for a jarring moment was thirteen again, on the roof with the same wind and the
same need to calm it down. He cleared his mental deck and settled, centering on
the present. After a bit he formed the earth and the Schoolhouse Rock winds.
The imagery returned, as familiar as the first time.

“Alright, here comes.”

The calm feeling
arrived, though whether from memory or not he couldn’t tell. He formed the
gloved hand and focused on the billowing winds. Slowly he lowered it. The
cartoon winds compressed, leaving room for only a little to pass. The calm
feeling pervaded then, not memory at all, and nothing of his doing. He felt it
echo from Kaiya in a saturating vibe. Validation tingled like tiny bells in his
soul.

The wind gradually
fell, bubbling up but then falling softer until the groan of the crowd was
heard. He bottomed out in the peaceful shallows and stayed there. What it
meant, how it could be, and why him were currents only, questions he had no
answers for and knew he wasn’t meant to, yet. Without effort, without touching
the quantum foam, he joined with the wind in the agreement of stillness and
peace. It did suggest some kind of intelligence, some level of awareness from
whatever force governed the wind’s flow. Two, then three minutes passed. After
five, the DJ on the PA announced a break.