Veil (95 page)

“Exactly! I couldn’t have used a better
example if I tried. People will more and more Veilinquish their own
selves to experience life through individuals who they believe are
better than them in some way. I realize ‘better’ sounds like such a
harsh word and will grate on the ears of your viewers and Veilers,
but I use that word intentionally and honestly. I believe that it’s
happening, and it will continue to happen. It’s happening because
for the reason I’ve proposed: people become exposed to something
about someone, and they somehow feel like—
Ohhhh wow, that’s
soooo much better.
Now, follow me for a minute and take that
phenomenon, apply it across the board, and fast-forward a hundred
years. Try to imagine what the New Veil World looks like if that
keeps occurring and, more often than not, every single person is
plugged into Veil.”

“Essentially what you’re saying Ken, if I may
put it into layman’s terms, is that we hold in our hands technology
that one day could lead to something like we saw in the
Matrix
movies. Except, unlike the characters in that story,
we will be voluntarily plugging ourselves into that world because
we’ll think it’s better than the real world. Is that what you’re
saying, Ken?”

“In a way. However, we won’t merely think
it’s better than the real world; it will be better than the real
world. It will be ultimately seductive, and we would’ve grown up on
it, so it will be all we know. Our globally shared reality. Plus,
unlike the Matrix, which is a good example and one I use myself,
we’re not talking about a programmed artificial reality. We’re
talking about the lives and actual experiences of real people:
cherished idols, demi-gods, Velebrities. Stored for eternity and
accessible to whoever wants them. Entire lives available to be
consumed and lived out minute-by-minute and second-by-second in
realtime.

“If you think getting people off the couch
and away from television was bad ten years ago, wait until Veil
takes a turn for the worse and see how many people are willing to
unplug. What if people back then could’ve actually lived as Brad
Pitt or Beyoncé? Or LeBron James or Justin Bieber or Rihanna? Or
even the Pope or the Dalai Lama? What if they could’ve experienced
life itself as their favorite celebrity, be they musicians, movie
or TV stars, athletes, spiritual leaders, fitness experts … even
porn stars, Christiane.

“You and I both know how many people would’ve
chosen to do what we’re talking about without questioning it.
Compared to the decay of television and pop culture of yesterday,
the impending Veil Apocalypse would be insidiously and infinitely
more seductive and destructive.”

“Whoa. Well, Ken, you certainly have painted
a dire picture and have given us something to think about. I can
honestly say I had yet to take my mind far enough to consider such
possibilities. I will have to give your prophecy some serious
consideration. I will say it’s surprising logic coming from one of
the Tsay Trustees.”

“Christiane, I would be neglect if I was less
than honest. That being said, I do think Veil can be a powerful and
beautiful thing. I’ve witnessed it myself. This was not meant to be
a Veil-bashing session but rather more like a red flag or a danger
sign. A Veil Omen, if you will. I think what we are seeing in the
New Veil World is an inevitable evolution in humanity, and I hope,
if and when we do come out the other side of Veil, we will all find
ourselves in a world where we are all equal and we are all one, but
we are all wonderfully and individually
ourselves
.”

“Thank you for this rare and insightful
conversation, Dr. Wise. Although I suspect the opposite is true, I
do hope it signifies that we will be hearing more from the revered
Tsay Trustees.”

“I can’t really say either way, but thank
you, Christiane. It was a great opportunity and a wonderful
discussion.”

Hunter had to help Suren hold the pen steady
enough for her to sign the repeal of The Jin Experience bill, and
even then her signature ended up nothing like the usual mark of the
Great Widow Tsay. However, Hunter knew that ghastly Suren’s chicken
scratch would have to suffice. If the Department of Surveil wanted
a better signature, they’d have to come use her cold, dead hand to
sign the damn thing themselves. He took the document and pen from
Suren, placed them back in the drawer, and slid it closed.

He stared at the crystal knob on the mirrored
nightstand, because he couldn’t bear to look at Suren’s face. The
longer Hunter looked at her, the more her grim appearance replaced
the image of Suren that he held in his mind. Although he wasn’t
looking at it, he didn’t take his eyes off the knob and exhaled
loudly before he said his peace.

“I’m sure there are things you want to talk
about, things you would say if you had more energy or time. But,
I’d rather skip all that shit. Everything that could be said
between us has been said, and everything that can be known is
already known. If anything, Jin and Ken deserve to be alive more
than you and I do, and we’d both trade places with them if we
could. If I’m emotional right now, it’s because I’m happy you
signed that damn thing, and that you think letting go of streaming
doesn’t matter. Now I don’t have to feel guilty about giving it up
to get Ken back. Because it was worth it. It was worth every
goddamn second. So, if I’m emotional, it has nothing to do with
you. I don’t even like you.”

Suren nodded. Although Hunter’s eyes were
still fixed on the drawer, Suren was studying his face as intently
as she could through her strained, blurry vision.

Hunter stood up and fought back a wobble as
he reached for his walker. He uttered what he knew would be his
last words to the Great Suren Tsay.

Hunter wasn’t aware of it but when he spoke
the words, he was crying. Suren saw the tears and diverted her
eyes. She knew he wouldn’t want her to see that.

“You are crazy, and you are a bitch, and I
fucking despise you. But Ken loved you—so,
whatever
.”

Hunter made sure not to look in her direction
while he made his exit. He turned away from her and shuffled to the
hallway. When Hunter made it to Suren’s bedroom door, she called
out to him.

Hunter rolled his eyes when he barely heard
Suren croak, “Send in Roy, please.”

As he exited through the door at sloth-like
speed, he lifted a hand over his shoulder.

With his back still to the old bitch, Hunter
gave Suren the finger.

R
oy scurried back
toward her bedroom. While he scuttled, he clutched onto what Suren
sent him to fetch from the foyer: a large, ornate, gold-veined
mirror encrusted chest. For as long as he could remember, the box
remained totally undisturbed and untouched. It sat on a mirrored
side-table that appeared to have been designed as a stand for the
box, although Roy wasn’t sure if that was the case. The chest was
positioned beneath a massive painting of Suren and Jin, which hung
on the wall amidst the dual staircase in the entryway of the huge
mansion. Roy would be lying if he said he never wondered what the
hell was in that enormous, exorbitant box. He never asked and
assumed the chest was locked, so he never attempted to investigate
it.

He scampered over to her with the chest
cradled in his arms. It was too large and heavy for her to hold, so
he plopped down into the chair next to her bed and held the chest
in his lap.

“The key is in there,” Suren rasped and
shifted her eyes to her nightstand. Roy opened the drawer, lifted
some papers, and dug around until he found a brass, Victorian era
barrel stem key. He held it up, and Suren nodded. He handed the key
to her. She took it from him, and he propped up the chest, so she
could slide it in the keyhole. She tried to insert the key a few
times but was unsuccessful, and she groaned.

Roy took the key back from her and turned the
chest around, so he could try for himself. He tilted it and
attempted to slide in the key, but it wouldn’t budge. He peered
inside the keyhole and noticed that someone must’ve tampered with
it. Out of curiosity, Roy lifted the lid. Already unlocked, the
chest opened. Suren groaned again.

After her shift at the power plant, Cheyenne
Modesto boarded the decrepit train that ran to the outskirts of
town, traveling in the opposite direction of her house. As she did
every day, Cheyenne took the train to its very last stop and as
always, she was the last passenger aboard during its final four
stops. She detrained and walked down a set of crumbling stairs,
which led from the platform and out of the station. As Cheyenne’s
feet met the sidewalk, her shins parted knee-high weeds. She
trudged through the overgrowth and tried her best to remain on the
concrete as she followed the path.

Cheyenne walked until she came to a large
plot. Old people claimed it once served as some big, flat parking
station for personal automobiles. In the ancient days, people
supposedly used those automobiles to travel from their homes to the
train station. Apparently, they would leave the machines at the
parking station and then take the train to their destination, which
didn’t make much sense to Cheyenne. Why not simply take the train
everywhere and then walk to where ever you were headed?

When she arrived at the lot, she crossed to
the far corner
,
where she kept a
substantial patch cleared for her daily visits. Cheyenne sat down
on the black asphalt near one edge of the patch. She was seated on
a very faded yellow line that had been painted on the asphalt for
some unknown reason. She took off her shoes and socks, adjusted the
cloth bandages around her toes, and pulled a pair of fresh socks
out of her bag.

After she put on the fresh socks, Cheyenne
removed her mobile vHost from her bag and set the bag aside. She
strapped the mobile vHost onto her wrist and spooled out its
internal vCable, which she pulled around behind her head, so she
could cable herself into the unit. After the cable snapped into
place in her vPort, she powered up the vHost and chose to resume
streaming her current Veil. She also selected the option to unmute
her body’s physical responses from the Veil. Cheyenne took her
position in the middle of the cleared patch and pushed the button
on her vHost to resume streaming the Veil stored in the unit. She
closed her eyes.

Cheyenne Modesto was
Dominika
Alexandrovna
. She walked out onto the stage, took her bow, and
immediately rose up onto one toe. Her muscles moved as Dominika’s
muscles moved, her body danced as Dominika danced. Every fiber of
Cheyenne’s being turned into the perfection of Dominika’s
performance. The more Cheyenne let go of herself, the more she was
Dominika. Cheyenne slipped away completely and became Dominika. In
that moment, the perfection of Dominika’s dance was matched only by
the degree in which Cheyenne could let go of herself in order to
become Dominika Alexandrovna.