Veil (7 page)

The information generated in the brain by
those neuroelectrical vibrations could be recreated.

Experience itself could be replicated.

Up to that point, they only focused on how
the neuroelectrical currents in the brain acted as one large
network. They only studied what The Witness
did
. They only
researched how that network could possibly be tapped into in order
to understand how all the different parts of the brain worked
together to form a single person with awareness, consciousness, and
a unique personality. Tapping into the neuroelectrical network was
quite a lofty goal and would’ve forged a perfectly acceptable
legacy for them.

Following Jin’s discovery that the vibrations
of The Witness lingered, the partners shifted their focus. They
studied what The Witness
contained
. Their shift in focus
quickly ushered in the staggering realization that, with the
correct methodology, the information and experience generated by
the vibrations of The Witness could somehow be replicated and
accessed. Perhaps using a computer or other technology. If they
understood the nature of The Witness, they could learn how to, with
the right amount of time and funding, artificially duplicate,
access, and interpret experience using every available rippling
neuroelectrical vibration of The Witness.

Essentially, right there in front of them was
the potential to break open the human mind: to read someone’s
thoughts, absorb someone’s emotions, and possibly access someone’s
memory. Prior to Jin’s discovery, The Witness was but a stream of
water they could only watch flow by and maybe dip their fingers in.
Suddenly, they had access to an entire ocean of consciousness,
which they had time to swim around in and explore.

All they had to say to the government was
“read thoughts” or “access memory,” and they had everyone at full
attention. Jin lacked Ken’s ability to communicate and Ken wasn’t
paralyzed with social anxiety, so it made sense for him to present
their proposal. So, he did—reluctantly. Ken didn’t trust the
government, and he wasn’t sure it was the right path for him and/or
his friend. However, Ken being Ken, he wanted to explore all
available options.

Ken attempted another joke, in a long
friendship of failed but persistent jokes, about how he could use
the planetary neural network of Pandora in
Avatar
as an
example when trying to convey their theory of The Witness. But
alas, seeing as how it was such a heavy-handed anti-military movie,
perhaps it was a bad idea.

Once again, Ken’s wit was met with a blank
stare. Not even a slight, perfunctory chuckle.

“You haven’t seen
Avatar
, have
you?”

“Never heard.”

Well, at least he didn’t give Ken the same
look as he did with the Oprah joke. Or was he?

Are you giving me that look again? Don’t
judge me, butthead.

Ken never did grow accustomed to Jin’s blank
stare.

Moments like those reminded Ken how different
their lives were, for the most part. They spent hours upon hours
every day in the lab working side-by-side and spent time
together—many times with Suren—outside of work. Nevertheless, when
it came down to it, they didn’t have much in common other than
their interest in the brain and, eventually, its neuroelectrical
network. Still, they managed to remain not only colleagues but also
friends since college.

After being presented with “The Ken and Jin
Show,” the government didn’t waste any time. The two were presented
with a civilian/military research contract, in order to develop
their findings into usable techniques. The military wanted what Ken
described. The military wanted it
very much
.

According its verbiage, the contract would,
“grant the United States Departments of Defense and Homeland
Security unrestricted access to the research to utilize it in any
way seen fit, in order to protect our citizens and ensure National
Security.”

The pair was informed that once they signed
the contract, they would want for nothing. They would be provided
any equipment necessary for their research and development. They
would be provided a considerable salary and benefits. All they
needed to do was sign the contract and relocate to Washington, D.C.
Everything else would be taken care of for them.

The offer didn’t feel right to Ken. That was
really all it was.

Ken tried to sway Jin to give their search
for funding a little longer and to exhaust all options before
handing their work over to the government. Ken didn’t trust the
government. Granted, Ken didn’t trust much but,
come on … the
government
?

Ken knew—without a doubt—if he and Jin
produced results the military deemed the slightest bit useful, they
would take it from them and use it however they wanted. Ken
repeatedly stressed that the government’s usage would most likely
be totally opposite of how the partners ever intended any of their
research to be used. Ken’s argument hinged on one, simple,
irrefutable opinion/fact.

Uhhh, it’s the government
.

However, Jin’s mind was made and Ken knew he
should have seen it coming. Ken should have intentionally bombed
the presentation to the military. Jin wasn’t concerned with some
future possibility regarding what the military might or might not
do. Jin was concerned with continuing their research, supporting
himself and his wife, starting a family and building a legacy. If
it meant no longer working as a team, Jin still wanted the contract
and wouldn’t hesitate to sign it. Jin wouldn’t hesitate for a
second.

So, he didn’t.

“Looks like Jin found himself a universal
Malkovich door,” Ken mused at his laptop.

The screen displayed documents inside a
folder marked “VEIL,” copied from the Tsay’s home computer. They
were documents filled with information Suren didn’t understand. All
Ken needed to do was give a few of them a cursory scan, and he got
the main idea. He glanced over his laptop at Suren, whose
expression hadn’t changed.

“
Being John Malkovich
, the movie, you
know?”

Suren shook her head.

“I swear you two never saw any good movies.
It’s about this door they find that allows people to be John … ugh,
never mind, there’s no way I can explain it. Anyway, to say Jin had
been busy would be an understatement. I didn’t even know he named
the project ‘Veil.’ The last time I talked to him about The Witness
all he told me was he made remarkable progress in understanding how
the information it retained could be accessed. That’s all he would
tell me. Or, at least all he could tell me. Top-secret, classified,
yadda yadda yadda.” Ken flicked his hand dismissively. “He seemed
excited, though. He seemed so excited. I was excited for him. The
only thing I’d ever seen him that worked up about was you.”

Suren stared at him with a mixture of grief
and nostalgia. At times, it appeared she didn’t stare at him but in
his direction and through him. Ken remembered why they were there
and reminded himself why Suren called him in the first place. The
meeting was about what happened to Jin, not about Jin’s research or
his project … no matter how interesting or promising of a project
Veil proved to be.

Ken had seen all three videos by then: the
first of the unknown man taking the elevator to the
13
^th
floor; the second of Jin
tripping as he stepped off the elevator, followed by a blast of
blood and gelatinous substances splattering back inside; the third
of the unknown man leaving hours later. What became of Jin, or
Jin’s remains, was still a mystery. Added to the pile of all the
other mysteries.

The only visible clues in the second video
were: Jin tripping, the blast, and several minutes later some
movement that appeared to be the unknown man shifting around a
sheet of plastic. The man’s feet and the plastic soon left the view
of the camera, after which the elevator closed and departed from
the 13
^th
floor. It went straight
to the lobby, and it wasn’t long until hospital personnel,
onlookers, and finally police swarmed the elevator.

According to Suren, there was no luck to be
had with the authorities, the people listed on Jin’s military
contract, or with hospital administrators. Suren told Ken how she
didn’t think to check the computer at home until three days after
Jin disappeared. She was so distraught, and Jin seldom used the
home computer. She explained how no one took her seriously when she
returned and claimed to have a video of Jin’s murder on the
13
^th
floor of the hospital,
since by then she already spoke to several people and caused quite
a few scenes.

“I know I shouldn’t have been going on and on
about the 13
^th
floor. Everyone
looked at me like I was crazy. Especially the people at the
hospital. They had me escorted out of the building! The hospital
didn’t have Jin’s name listed in the personnel files. He wasn’t
even listed, Ken! I must’ve looked so crazy.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. Clearly, whatever
Jin was working on was highly classified. I can’t say I understand
why they had him set up the way they did, all alone and not only
classified but in total secrecy.”

“I never, never thought he was in danger,”
she carried on defensively and talked as much to herself as she did
to Ken. “It never crossed my mind. I would've never let him. I knew
he was working on secret stuff but never danger. Never danger. I
would've never let him—”

“Jin would've never let you stop him,” Ken
interrupted to defuse her budding self-blame. “No one could’ve
known. No one. The only thing I can think, and I hate to say it,
and I know how it sounds Suren, but the only thing I can think is
that none of this was by accident. Not how isolated he was kept,
not how invisible his whole operation was made, not how he just got
… how he disappeared.”

They stared off in different directions while
they let the logic of it all come together and paint a clearer
picture of not only what happened to Jin, but why.

“To be honest,” he finally resumed, “it’s
probably a good thing you didn’t get anywhere with anyone. That
could’ve made you a target, Suren. Who knows? It really could have.
Look at what they’re capable of.”

“I know, Ken. I never saw any danger. And I
don’t think my Jin did either. You know him, Ken. You … you knew
him. People looking at him got him all nervous. If he thought he
was in any kind of danger, or if I was in any kind of danger, he
would’ve been a mess. He would’ve been a total wreck. Me in danger?
Me?” She took a gasp that sounded like a mixture of grief and a
sudden realization of vulnerability, as though she just realized
her knight was gone and, therefore, so was her protector. She
continued in a considerably softer tone. “Jin would've never left
my side if he thought that for one second. If he thought I was in
danger.
Ever
.” She finished in a whisper, and she lowered
her head and shook it. Heavy tears flowed down her cheeks and were
soaked up when they dripped onto her black skirt.

Ken put his hand on Suren’s knee and
whispered back to her, “He would’ve camped on top of you, Suren.
Jin wouldn’t have left your side until you got sick of it and told
him to go the hell away for a minute. He would’ve dug a moat around
you.”

Suren laughed through her tears and put a
hand over her mouth. She put the other on top of Ken’s, which was
still on her knee.

They bowed their heads and remembered
Jin.

Both remembered how deeply Jin loved his
Suren.

Ken knew Suren’s pain, and he knew she was
right.

Ken also knew his old friend quite well.
Probably better than anyone other than Suren.

Ken was sure that in Jin’s mind, he was
merely a geeky scientist working on a really neat project, which he
hoped would one day have some nifty results. It was how Jin thought
about things. It was all Jin ever wanted. That was it. That, and
his Suren.

Jin simply focused on his work and how far
his research brought his theories. So, he wasn’t aware of the pack
of wolves who encircled his lab and waited to pounce the second
they no longer needed him; ones who sat in wait for the very second
his project became not only a theory but also a reality—a device.
Wolves who wanted Veil for themselves and wanted to keep Veil to
themselves. Wolves who planned to keep Veil the way they kept Jin:
subdued and top-secret.

Ken had a pretty darn good idea who the
wolves were, and he wasn’t about to let himself or Suren appear on
their radar by continuing to force the issue of Jin’s
disappearance. The videos showed well enough what happened to Jin.
It was the harsh truth of what became possible the second Jin
signed his name on a government contract.