The Lives of Tao (9 page)

“This is nuts,” he muttered. “I’m just going crazy. It’s the only rational explanation.”

I thought we were making headway. What is the problem now?
 

“The problem is...” Roen said aloud and stopped when an elderly couple walked past and looked his way.

Remember, inside voice.
 

He turned away from them and hunched over. “The problem is that I don’t believe you. The story you’re telling me is ridiculous. Aliens, millions of years old, in my brain... that’s just crazy. I must be just stressed out from work, or maybe that pizza gave me food poisoning, or hell, maybe it’s residual guilt from my last breakup eight years ago. Whatever my excuse is, it’s more rational than having some alien living inside me. Ockham’s Razor, man, Ockham’s Razor.”

Pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate.
 

“Uh... what?”

Ockham’s Razor. That is what it means. William of Ockham was one of our people. We used its interpretation to hide our existence when hosts went insane and gave us away.
 

Roen threw his hands up. “What the hell! Is everyone in on this but me? Am I like the last person in the world not to have my own personal alien?”

Like I said, we tend to occupy positions of influence.
 

“So what do I get out of this? Can I get superpowers? Will I fly? Could I climb walls? Do I need a secret identity like Clark Kent or Peter Parker?”

Well, as long as I am alive, your memories will be with me. In a way, you become almost immortal. And as with my previous hosts, you have all their memories and skills at your disposal.
 

“Is that it?”

There was another long silence before Tao finally spoke
. Are you serious? You mean having an ancient all-wise being at your disposal is not enough? A thousand lifetimes of knowledge and wisdom is not sufficient to turn you into some semblance of a capable human being? Have you not ever heard that knowledge is power? You have in you one of the wisest minds on this planet and that is not enough for you?
 

“Well, since you put it that way,” Roen grumbled. “You didn’t have to be mean about it. It would be nice though if I got some sort of power.”

Well, I apologize, but I will not be able to accommodate you.
 

“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”

I just think you should be more appreciative.
 

“You know, for an extraterrestrial, you act awfully human-like.”

We were not always this way. When we first arrived, our personalities were very alien compared to how we are now. Our relationship with humans is symbiotic. You influence us just as much as we influence you. Over the course of time, we became more human in our reactions and our thoughts.
 

“
Will I become more alien?”

Hardly. I have interacted with humans for thousands of years. You will have interacted with us for only your lifetime. It is a little different.
 

“So, that’s it, huh? You and I are stuck together, and we have to make like two peas in a pod. Is there anything else?”

There was another pause before Tao spoke.
There is more we need to discuss, but I believe this is sufficient for today. You should get back to your meeting. They will be missing you.
 

Roen looked at his watch and cursed. “Crap, I’ve been gone for an hour! I’m in so much trouble!” He raced back to his office as fast as he could, huffing and puffing by the time he reached the War Room. Trying to act as casual as possible, he sat back into his chair and shrank from the scowls coming his way.

“Where have you been?” Peter hissed, the serene Dalai Lama demeanor shattered. “We could use some help figuring out this java dump.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Roen said stiffly.

“Well, get better fast or we’ll be here all night.” Peter pushed a stack of printouts toward him.

Roen grimaced at the pages of garble and held in a sigh. “Great, I’m going to be here forever.”

It is only a java dump. It should not take that long to figure out.
 

“Well, it’s a little hard for me to focus with everything that’s happened today.”

Flip the page.
 

“What? You can read code?”

I can do many things. Here, I am already done. Flip the page.
 

Roen flipped to the next page.

Again. Next page.
 

“Already?”

Just flip it.
 

He flipped to the third page. In a matter of minutes, Tao finished going through the large stack of pages. It actually took Roen longer to flip the pages than it did for Tao to finish scanning them. Eventually, Roen just tossed each finished page on the floor to keep up. Several people in the room snickered. Their amusement turned into amazement when he grabbed Peter’s keyboard and typed in a few commands.

“Problem fixed.” He grinned. He stood up and grabbed his bag. “Call me if you need anything else. Otherwise, have a good night.” Without another word, Roen walked out of the War Room, whistling all the way.

CHAPTER SEVEN

GENJIX

Feeling like he just made parole, Roen pranced out of the office and strolled down the street toward the Grant Park North garage. After experiencing the mugging, he decided that the extra cost of parking close to work every day was well worth it. Evening had fallen and the street lamps were blinking on, lighting up the otherwise dark and quiet streets. Thick rolling clouds were moving in from the horizon, covering much of the sky, with barely a star peeking through, as a strong gust blew in from over Lake Michigan.

Roen shivered and pulled his hood over his head, tightening the straps on his down jacket. He felt like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. He dug out an old pair of holey gloves which had seen much better days. Springtime in Chicago was unpredictable and sometimes fiercely cold. That still didn’t dampen Roen’s mood though. He grinned like a mad fool as he kicked up his feet and brushed his hands along a metal grating. It felt good to not be the most clueless person in the room.

“Hey Tao, how did you know what to fix on that java dump?”

We were involved with the birth of the Internet since the mid-Sixties. There are large divisions of Quasing who advance our cause through the development of human technology. Just like your people, we specialize in different tasks. Some work on technology, others diplomacy, and still others military sciences.
 

“So would I work in technology?”

I am not talking about the host. The host adapts to his Quasing’s specialty, which in my case is infiltration and covert operations. While you obviously are not trained for this, I will teach you.
 

“Well, I for sure am not cut out for that covert stuff.”

We will cross that bridge when we get there.
 

“That still doesn’t explain how you can read java code.”

When you have lived as long as we do, you learn to accumulate a lot of different skills.
 

“Sweet!” Roen’s grin grew wider as he fantasized about how much easier his life was about to become. With his own smart alien, he could breeze through work. He would definitely have more time on his hands now. Just let Tao do all the work, and they could go home early every day.

I am not here to be your personal assistant.
 

“Is there a way for me to block my thoughts from you?”

None whatsoever.
 

“That sucks.”

Such is life. Live with it.
 

“You know, for an all-wise alien, you’re quite snarky.”

We have personalities like every other living creature. Just because I am an alien does not mean I am a Vulcan or some soulless robot.
 

Roen rounded the corner toward the garage entrance and went down the stairs, to the sub-level where he parked. There were many cars parked down here. There must be an event going on in the park. Whistling and not paying attention, he dug out his keys and collided with an old man – wearing a black trench coat – who was just getting out of the car adjacent to his. Nearly bowling the man over, Roen dodged to the side at the very last moment and tripped, falling onto the floor. He cursed his clumsiness as he rubbed his skinned knee.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

“It’s all right, young man. Let me help you up.” The old man reached for his hand.

Stop. Do not touch him. Get up and move away.
 

“Why? What’s going on, Tao?”

Still, Roen did as he was told and picked himself up. “I got it,” he mumbled. “Are you all right?”

The man smiled. “No problem...” He paused and studied Roen. “What’s your name, son?”

Do not tell him!
 

“Ro...” he began lamely.

That is Omer Singh, host of Chiaolar, a Genjix! I recognize his face. He sensed something when you two collided, but could not identify me yet. He will if he touches your skin!
 

“What’s a Genjix?”

Your sworn enemy. You need to get away now!
 

Roen froze. “I have a sworn enemy?”

The old man continued smiling. “Nice to meet you, Ro, is it? I didn’t quite catch that. Old ears, you know.”

Punch him in the face!
 

“What?! He’s as old as my granddad!”

Now! Punch him and get out of here!
 

Roen knew this was going to end badly. He could see it now as he got hauled to jail for assaulting a senior citizen. Should he plead the insanity defense or the alien-told-me-to-do-it defense? Taking a deep breath and feeling guilty, Roen balled his hand into a fist and swung at Omer. That feeling of guilt faded when Omer calmly sidestepped the punch, grabbed Roen by the coat, and threw him against the wall. His head bounced off the concrete and Roen collapsed onto the floor.

Omer stood over him, still wearing the pleasant smile. “Surveillance cameras in the garage reported a white Ford parking here over the past two weeks. That was half the puzzle. I apologize if it took me so long to follow up on the lead. There are many white cars to track, after all. This morning, the other half of the puzzle materialized in the shape of an obese man leaving that same white car. So, my question for you, son: are you the puzzle piece we’ve been looking for, and where were you two Fridays ago?”

You need to escape. Omer Singh is an old enforcer. You are no match for him.
 

Roen turned over, trying to crawl away. Omer chuckled and pinned him down with his boot. “You know, son, you made me late for a very important evening. It’s my anniversary, and I spent it sitting in this dank, cold place. My old bones don’t handle the chill so well anymore. Hold still for a moment.” He grabbed a mass of Roen’s hair and pushed down. Roen’s forehead bounced off the hard floor once more. “Hello, Tao.” Omer smirked. “We’ve been looking for you.”

He is next to you on your right. Turn around, grab his ankle, and roll. On my mark... now!
 

In an absolute panic, Roen blindly followed Tao’s instructions. He turned over as fast as he could, grabbed the first ankle he got his hands on, and kept rolling. Omer squawked in surprise as he lost his footing and fell onto his knees.

Run! Stay low. Weave through the cars.
 

Roen scrambled to his feet and ran. Omer snarled, and suddenly Roen heard a loud bang, and then a windshield near him exploded into glass shards.

“Jesus, did he just shoot at me?” Roen turned the corner and ran north, passing by several rows of cars. Several more bullets hit cars and shattered more windows. “God, he’s trying to kill me!”

Doubtful, he is most likely aiming for a non-vital area.
 

“Every part of me is vital!”

Focus. Stay very low, turn to your right once you pass this wall. See that minivan near the opposite corner? Make a beeline toward it and hide behind the rear tire. The minivan, not the truck.
 

“That truck over there is much bigger. Why not that?”

Because if I was Omer, that would be where I look first. Slow your breathing and be quiet.
 

Roen slowed and began to crawl on all fours, inching next to the minivan and hiding behind one of the tires. He put a hand over his mouth and tried without much success to stay calm.

“How do you know this guy? What’s a Genjix?”