Veil (47 page)

“Oh.”

“We have to wait for the shadowing of the
Vault to take place now, on the other end, you know? Then your
Witness will transfer back over.”

“Right. I was expecting to feel
something.”

“Do you usually feel anything? I’ve never
heard of anyone feeling something when a download takes place. Or
an upload, for that matter.”

“Like I said, I’ve never used it before.”

“At all? You’ve never … you’ve never Veiled
before?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but no,
I’ve never Veiled.”

The man studied her face. Probably to detect
if she was lying, or trying to recall her face from newspapers and
magazines
,
to determine if it really was
the wife of Jin Tsay sitting in front of him. After all, how could
the wife of the “Great Jin Tsay,” the so-called “Father of
Veil
,
” have never used Veil before?

“So what’s happening now?” She broke his
concentration. “On the other end?”

“Oh … ehhh … well, two things. On the other
end, the Vault is reading through a series of questions that cause
them to recall the memory in question, you know? The questions have
got these certain images and words that those Veilologists figured
out will cause people to remember things, you know? Like in this
case, they help to recall a certain memory. But, what’s cool is
even if the Vault can’t consciously remember every detail, the
questions can still cause the whole entire memory to get
triggered.”

“Yes, how cool.”

He ignored her tone again and kept going.
“Second, the whole process of transferrin’ the memory to them
creates these marker things in the Vault’s brain. Don’t ask me how.
But, anyway, during the shadowing, after one of my customers
purchases the memory, the Vault’s vPort will detect them marker
things when the memory is triggered, which helps their vPort
identify and extract the whole entire thing. The markers help Veil
know what to amplify, too. To make the memory stronger for the
other person, you know? Maybe help remember stuff even the Vault
can’t remember. Finally, the memory gets transferred to the
customer, through The Witness. In this case
,
to you. The longer the memory, the longer the wait.
It’s all as simple as that, really.”

Suren found herself surprised by what he just
said, because it caused her to wonder something for the first time.
Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure why she never
questioned it until then.

“I see. I have a hypothetical for you to
answer. Kind of unrelated.”

“Anything for you. Really, anything.”

“Can this process be used to … say tap into a
memory that has been erased? Or perhaps a memory that a person has
lost or blocked out, what have you? Something the person has
forgotten. Can this help them remember it?”

“Oh … hmmm … not really, I mean not
technically. The most Veil could do is help someone else remember
it for them.”

Suren was confused. “How so?”

“Well, say hypothetically someone Veils the
person in question, and that person is stimulated into recalling
facts or events surrounding the memory they can’t quite … ehhh …
remember or recall. Well, that memory ain’t gone or
vanished
.
It ain’t wiped from their brain.
Their brain simply can’t access it, for whatever reason. Maybe it’s
too traumatic, you know? Maybe their brain has been trained not to
access it. Or tricked into not accessing it. There’s a bunch of
reasons. During the Veil, as the events surrounding that memory get
all triggered and stuff, the shadower will actually have direct
access to that memory because their brain ain’t been trained or
tricked into not remembering it. So, after the Veil is complete,
that person could remember what the owner of the memory can’t.”

“So, what you’re saying is that if someone
Veils with a person who is missing a memory, after the Veil is
done, the shadower could tell them what they can’t remember?”

He thought about what Suren asked and after
his brain pieced together all the words, he boasted, “For sure!
I’ve seen it happen. There’s even a phrase for it, Veil
Cryptomnesia. Or vCryptomnesia, for short.”

“That answers my question
.
”

“Like I said, anything.”

“So what happens next? Here, now?”

“Well, after they are done on their end, your
Witness will get transferred back and uploaded onto you through
your vCollar either in Veiltime or realtime, depending on how you
have yours configured,” he replied and pointed at the collar she
was still wearing.

“Oh! No!” Suren jumped out of her seat after
he reminded her that she was still wearing the device. “No, no,”
she mumbled and ripped the collar from her neck.

“What? What?” She caught him off-guard,
“What’s wrong?”

“If my Witness gets transferred back into my
device, and I’m not wearing it, what will happen?”

“What do you mean what will happen?”

“What will happen to my Witness?”

“Well, the way the old collars work, it will
stay stored in there,” he pointed at her collar again. “That is,
until you put it back on and it detects you. Then it will upload.
But, I don’t know why you’d want that.”

“I just do,” she said. She had no intention
of experiencing whatever was about to be transferred over to her
vCollar while she was inside that store and while she was in front
of that man. She had no intention of that whatsoever.

“Then you caught it in time, I guess,” he
shrugged. Widow of the Great Jin Tsay or not, the lady was a nut as
far as he was concerned.

The vHost in front of the storeowner beeped
and then seconds afterwards so did the collar in Suren’s hand. She
watched as a series of indicators lit up in sequence and when the
final one was lit, her vCollar let out one last beep.

“There you go. All finished,” he smiled again
and seemed pleased with himself. She figured he was probably
relieved the transaction was almost over with. He wanted her out of
his store; he wanted to be done with it.

“Thank you,” she replied as she violently
ripped the cable from her vCollar.

He grimaced and waved his hands in a rapid
burst. “Ah! Ah! Ah! No! Careful!” But it was too late; she already
yanked out the cable and tossed it onto the counter between them.
She opened her purse and gently placed her collar inside.

“One last piece of business,” she informed
him while she zipped her purse. After it was zipped, she grabbed
her hat from the counter and put it back on.

“Yeah?” he asked reluctantly.

“I want the names and VSNs of everyone who
purchased this memory. I want the name and VSN of your Vault who
stores this memory. I want you to remove all traces of it from your
inventory. You are not to sell this memory again. You are not to
speak of it. Ever.”

“Ehhh … ehhh…” he started to object.

She looked at him with such burning, angry,
unfaltering conviction that, despite all his years of being a
salesman, he knew it was pointless to protest. It was pointless to
argue with her, to object. All she had to do was report him. It
didn’t matter anyway, he figured. With the three sales, plus the
money the Vault bid to get dibs on storing that particular memory,
he already more than made his money back.

“Under one condition,” he attempted to
negotiate.

“There are no conditions
.
”

“Please … please … hear me out,” he pleaded.
“I’m a businessman, I have a home and a life to protect.” He raised
his arms to shift her attention, and hopefully her sympathy, to the
building surrounding them. “So all I ask is that you not say where
you got these names from. That you not say who gave them to you.
Especially to the Vault. Please.”

She lifted her purse and set it on the
counter between them. It made a loud thunk.

“Get—me—the—fucking—names—now.”

Three minutes later, Mariano Sawyer emerged
from the back room of his store with a sheet of paper in his hand.
He retraced the same steps his employee Abby made nearly an hour
earlier, around the counter opposite the Widow Tsay and through the
swinging door at the end. He rushed to her with his arm
outstretched and the paper in his hand.

“Here you go. All four of them. The first
three are the buyers and the last one is my Vault for this
particular … for the memory you’re claiming. As I mentioned, I
don’t have any information for the original owner. I don’t know who
it was.”

Suren snatched the paper from him, rose from
the stool, grabbed her purse
,
and headed
toward the door. She looked down at the list of names. She couldn’t
believe she was looking at names of people who would actually
purchase the memory of her husband’s murder. She couldn’t believe
they would buy the experience of her husband’s death. The memory of
the murder of Veil’s inventor, Jin Tsay. Her Jin.

As she opened the door, her eyes burned holes
into the list in her hand. She barely heard him calling out from
behind her.

“I guess I was wrong, I just never noticed…”
he yelled out.

She continued her way through the door while
her eyes made their way down the list, committing each name to
memory. Stitching them into her brain.

“…I have come across an unusual VSN like
yours before, guess it didn’t dawn on me—” he was cut off. The door
was already closed.

While she slowly climbed back up the stairs,
her eyes made their way to the last name on the list. She stopped
and a shaky hand immediately went to cover her mouth, which opened
out of utter horror
,
shock, and disbelief.
She stared at what her eyes didn’t want to believe—what they
couldn’t believe.

According to the paper she held, the Vault
for the memory of Jin Tsay’s murder was: Dr. Kenneth Wise,
VSN#000-000-000-004.

“M
s. Suren?”

She got in the front seat of the limousine,
right next to him. Something she’d never done. Not once. Nine
years, tons of insane and completely out of control situations.
Mobs of people pawing at her, in the hopes that they’d get a chance
to touch her: the
Great Widow Tsay
.

Even then, she didn’t climb in the front seat
with him.

“Ms. Suren, are … are you alright?” he tried
again as he reached across the seat to touch her shoulder.

As soon as his hand made contact with her,
she let out a piercing scream and went at him. Shrieking, she
attacked him with hysterical slaps and punches. She turned and
contorted her body so she could kick as well.

“Ms. Suren! Ms. Suren! Stop! Ms. Suren—stop.
Calm down!” he shouted to snap her out of it.

She didn’t stop screaming or thrashing her
arms and legs. Her hat fell off; her hair was sweaty and glued to
her forehead. The poor woman was a mess and that made it so much
harder to do what he knew he had to do. Lord help him, he couldn’t
believe what he was about to do to her, but he knew it had to be
done.

“Lord forgive me,” he said out loud before,
with the palm of his free hand—the other still warding off the
barrage—he slapped her across the face. “Bitch, snap the fuck out
of it!”

She stopped. One hand immediately went to
flatten her hair. The other wiped at her cheeks in an attempt to
dry them off, but instead mixed tears with makeup and smeared a
sludge of both across her face. She looked at him with apologetic
horror, while he stared back apprehensively. His hand was still
raised
,
in case he needed to slap her
again.

Lord, don’t make me slap a bitch twice.

Her eyes became unnaturally wide, looking
like a raccoon, and her expression forced laughter out of him. He
didn’t mean to laugh but as soon as the shock wore off and his eyes
soaked in the absolute mess of a woman sitting next to him, he
simply couldn’t help it. The Great Widow Tsay: always so composed,
proper
,
and graceful.

Calling her the epitome of elegance wouldn’t
have been an exaggeration. The woman who could make Jackie
O
.
and Michelle O
.
look like ragamuffins. The wealthiest woman in the
world. The very woman who once bluffed to the whole assembly of
Congress that if they didn’t pass the Right To Veil bill, she’d
flip some secret kill switch and cripple the entire Veil Network
and thereby the entire Veil Industry. (The same woman whose bluff
Congress was too scared
,
to call so they
passed the bill—no questions asked.)
That
woman was sitting
next him looking like one big Baby Jane of a mess.

Carter’s laughter was always infectious to
Suren, so after a few seconds she joined him. Except, her laughter
sounded more like the histrionics of a madwoman, which only made
his cackles worse. The poor little woman had gone all messy bat
shit and the only thing he could do was laugh at her. The two
laughed so hard their stomachs ached and they waved each other off,
trying to get the other one to stop laughing in the hopes that they
could, too.