Veil (45 page)

“Oh … I … I can come back.”

“No, it’s ok. We don’t close for another,”
the girl checked her wrist, “twenty minutes, anyway. Take your
time.”

Suren nodded her head.

“Are we in an extro or intro kind of mood
tonight?” the young girl asked.

It became a common question at nearly all
retailers, in respect of a shopper’s preference to be assisted by a
clerk or of their desire to simply be left alone. Respect for the
individual shopping experience was of utmost consideration,
especially in the Veil Industry.

“Intro,” Suren said sheepishly. “Always
intro.”

“I’ll leave you to it then. Let me know if
you have any questions.”

“Thank you,” Suren whispered from underneath
her hat and again nodded in the girl’s direction.

Suren approached the monitor closest to her
and sat on a black stool whose solitary leg artfully arched from
the base of the counter. She turned her body so her crossed legs
and torso were facing the front of the store where the young lady
stood; her upper body was turned toward the counter. Looking down
at the monitor embedded in the countertop, Suren pushed the
selection on the touchscreen that said, also in the same style as
the store’s name: “
BEGIN
.
”

Two options appeared before her. One
indicated Suren could choose from a list of names and the other
indicated she could choose from a list of event types. Suren
selected to choose from a list of names. She was then directed to
either begin typing a name or scroll through a list of the store’s
available names.

Suren used the on-screen keyboard and began
typing: “J-I-N” space “T-S.”

By the time she got to the letter “S,” Jin’s
name appeared at the top of a list of options. She clicked on Jin’s
name and a list of additional options appeared:
Conception -
Pregnancy - Birthdays - School - Events - Achievements - Special
Occasions - Adult - Other

Out of curiosity and with a surprised smirk
on her face, Suren chose,
Adult
. A new screen popped up that
stated,
No Entries
. Suren smirked again, that time pleased
and not so surprised. She clicked “back.” Suren presumed the memory
she hunted for would be listed under
Special Occasion
s, so
she selected that option. A new screen popped up with three
categories, none of which reflected the memory Suren sought, so
again she clicked “back.”

The third time, Suren selected the
Other
option. When she did, two further categories appeared,
one titled
Random Encounters (Unverified Identifications of
Individual May Be Included)
and another titled simply,
Death
. Suren’s pulse spiked noticeably; she hesitated while
she stared at the memory marked
Death
.

Two years since she started to hear whispers
of the rumor. It had been two years and not once had that word show
up in any memory dealership. Slowly and with a shaking finger, she
touched the screen. The monitor beeped and the screen flashed red
three times along with a pop-up message that stated,
See Manager
For Access
. Reflexively, she touched it again, the way one
tended to push an elevator button, although the button was already
lit. The monitor emitted the same beep and the same message
appeared on the screen.

After she detected a beep for the second
time, the girl at the end of the counter headed to where Suren was
seated as she asked, “Is there something I can assist you with,
ma’am?”

“Ummm … yes, apparently I need to see a
manager for access.”

“Ah yes, most of our,” the girl nervously
cleared her throat, “adult memories do require prior
authorization,” she announced as she approached Suren’s monitor.
She glanced at the screen and saw Suren wasn’t attempting to access
the
Adult
section, but rather the section titled,
Death
.

“Oh … I assumed, well … you just…” the girl
backtracked.

“I’m looking for this memory specifically.”
Suren tapped the screen.

“Yes, yes. Well, for that, yes, I am going to
have to contact my manager. Well, the owner really. He’s the only
one who can approve access to,” she cleared her throat again, “that
kind of memory. I can’t do that. I’m—I’m underage. I can’t do that.
Not even the adult ones.”

“I understand,” Suren replied and sneered at
the girl from under the brim of her hat. The girl hadn’t moved and
was staring at the monitor. That time, it was Suren who cleared her
throat. “So, the manager?” she prompted the young girl.

“Yes—oh yes,” she replied nervously and shook
her head. “I’ll have to call him. The owner. Excuse me for a
second, please, Ms … Ms…” she fished for Suren’s name.

“Go call him, young lady. Now.”

She couldn’t hear everything the girl said
over the videophone, only bits and pieces. The entire scene played
out like some cliché from a crime show, all the way down to the
bits Suren could overhear
.

I don’t know who she is … no, not that I
know of … I don’t know but she’s just sitting here … ok, I’ll tell
her … yes … ok.

The girl ended the videocall and walked along
the wall behind the counter until she returned to her position in
front of Suren. She bent her knees slightly and pulled up a cable
that unwound from a spool mounted inside the counter. When the wire
completely unspooled, it clicked into place. The cable’s tip glowed
with a blue light and Suren recognized it immediately. The girl
eyed Suren, who stared back at her from underneath the brim of her
hat. No longer sheepish as she’d been when she first entered the
store, Suren was intimidatingly brazen. The moment she saw the word
“death” on the screen, Suren felt she had the right to conduct
herself however she wanted inside that store.

“The owner wants me to prep you. He’ll be
here soon. I just need to cable into your vPort,” the girl
requested submissively. She was already positioning herself to
access the back of Suren’s neck.

“I don’t have a Veil Port,” Suren admitted
bluntly and sounded as though the girl was absurd for suggesting
she would
.

“You … you … don’t have a vPort?”

“No. I have this.” Suren unzipped her purse
and pulled out her personal Veil Collar. She placed it on the
counter, covering the monitor. Unlike the vintage black acrylic
collars Abigail had seen, Suren’s was pure platinum and, in what
appeared to be diamonds, embedded on either side of the typical
“VEIL” engraving across the base, were the initials, “JT” and
“ST.”

The girl let out an uncontrollable chuckle.
“I—I … we don’t use those anymore. No one uses those. I can’t cable
into that, ma’am.”

She instinctually reached out to touch the
archaic unit, simply because it looked so fancy, but Suren
immediately snatched it up
.

“You mean to tell me a place like this,”
Suren motioned around the store with a wave of her Veil, “doesn’t
have a basic vTech adapter? You honestly expect me to believe
that?”

“Yes ma’am—I mean, no, I’m sorry, we don’t
have one. Or at least … I mean … I’ve worked here over two years,
and I’ve never seen an adapter here. No one has ever brought in—you
know—one of
those
,” she stressed as she darted her eyes and
nodded at the Veil Collar in Suren’s hand.

“I’ll wait for your boss, if you don’t mind,”
Suren huffed with disdain. She turned her entire body to face the
rear of the store and placed her hands, which were holding the
collar, on top of the white purse that rested on her lap.

“Oh, of course,” the girl responded and
checked her watch. “Of course. No problem. He should be here any
second. He owns the entire building. He lives on the top
floor.”

Suren stared straight ahead and didn’t
respond.

“Do you mind, I mean … is it ok … well, I’m
just wondering, where did you get that?” the girl asked.

Suren wasn’t looking at the girl when she
asked the question, but she was sure the girl was referring to the
collar in her lap.

“I’ve never seen one like it,” the girl
added.

Suren moved so slowly it frightened the young
girl. She turned her head and peered directly at her from
underneath the brim of the hat. In the same intimidating manner,
she reached up and removed her hat so that her long, straight,
shiny black hair cascaded down her shoulders. Suren placed the hat
on the counter, to the right of the monitor between her and the
girl.

The girl let out a breathy gasp and took a
step back with one foot. Suren could only assume it was the sound
and reaction of sudden recognition.

“Young lady,” she said in a near whisper. “I
suggest you leave my sight before your boss arrives. I also suggest
you excuse yourself from this store as soon as he does arrive and
then think long and hard before you ever set foot back in this
place. History is not going to look kindly upon the people who take
part in peddling this form of filth.” Suren tapped the monitor and
added, “The Tsay Legacy will not allow it from
you—
people
.”

She said the word ‘people’ with such disgust
that she almost felt guilty. She almost didn’t recognize herself.
Almost.

Shocked and speechless, the girl nodded and
turned away from Suren as she headed to the pitch-black doorway at
the rear of the store. As she walked away, Suren took notice of the
girl’s vPort installed in the base of her neck. She was still close
enough for Suren to read that twenty-three Witnesses were shadowing
the girl. The vPort’s screen also indicated that the girl was
currently shadowing someone as well. Suren fleetingly wondered who
the girl was shadowing. A lover? A family member? A Veil celebrity?
Or, as the girl would probably call them, a “Velebrity.”

It didn’t matter. All that mattered to Suren
was the reason she ended up in that store in the first place.

“Abigail,” Suren called out.

“Ummm … yes, Widow Tsay. Ma—ma’am?” she
replied quietly and stopped walking, but did not turn to face
Suren.

“One more thing. Come here, young girl. Come
around over here,” Suren demanded and motioned to her side of the
counter as Abigail turned and looked at her.

Reluctantly, Abigail complied. She circled
around the counter to the swinging door on the other side. She
pushed through the door and inched across the store to the
universally respected and admired woman
,
who just shamed her minutes earlier.

Suren didn’t move her body at all, so Abigail
was forced to walk around and stand in front of her. There were
tears in Abigail’s eyes.

“Turn around, young lady,” Suren directed
her.

Abigail again complied and stuttered, “Oh …
ok … but he should be here any moment. I’m sure he can help you
with whatever.”

“Shhh … it will only take a second,” Suren
soothed the crying girl as she removed a small device from her
purse. She pressed a button on the device and out popped a
key-shaped piece attached to a glowing blue cable.

Abigail could feel the pressure as Suren
inserted the key into her vPort. The sensation was different than
when someone cabled-in or when she connected herself to a host.

“What—what is that?” Abigail asked but was
ignored.

When it was connected, the device in Suren’s
hand beeped and glowed with the same blue aura as the cable. She
pressed a sequence of buttons on it and after another single beep,
the device indicated to Suren that whoever was shadowing Abigail at
the time just had the neuroelectricity of their Witness
neutralized. Later, when The Witnesses shadowing her were uploaded
back onto their owners, they wouldn’t transmit any information;
there would be no record of Suren’s presence in the store, save for
the girl’s memory.

“A little safety measure. For my own peace of
mind,” she assured. “But I’m all done.” Suren removed the key from
Abigail’s port, pressed a button to retract the cable and dropped
the device back in her purse. “Go now. Go,” she dismissed Abigail
with a careless wave of her hand. She then gracefully put on her
hat.

Abigail unconsciously rubbed the base of her
neck, where her vPort was installed, as she hurried around the
counter and through the doorway in the back of the store. While
Abigail was in the dark room in back, the front door opened. A man
stood in the entrance and eyed Suren before he walked in and closed
it behind him. He was a short, balding man who wore house slippers
and a long, dingy robe over a white V-neck and pajama bottoms.
Already annoyed, he sauntered over to Suren and greeted her. At the
same time, Abigail reentered the store from the back, with her
belongings cradled in a pile in her arms; she didn’t take the time
to put on her coat.

Abigail rushed along the wall on the opposite
side of the store from where Suren and the owner were positioned.
She flung open the swinging door at the end of the counter, crossed
the store and
,
bolted out the front door
after running by Suren while crying, “I’m sorry … I’m so
sorry.”

They listened as Abigail’s shoes clicked
against the stairs
,
until she reached the
empty street, where the clicking hastened and faded into the
night.

“Ehhh,” the storeowner muttered and
dismissively waved his hand at the door. He assumed Abigail had
been speaking to him. “She probably can’t wait to get cabled-in and
get her Velebrity fix for the night. You know most of these kids do
it in realtime now?” he looked at Suren and wagged his finger at
the door. “Can you believe that? Realtime. Imagine how much of
their lives they’re wasting. Myself, I prefer sleep. Some good
old-fashioned television, what’s barely left of it anyway, and then
some sleep. Ehhh,” he muttered again and faced Suren. “So, what can
I help you with, Ms … ummm … sorry, Abby didn’t tell me your
name.”