Cian was slightly shorter than I was, so when we walked side by side, she had to lengthen her strides just to keep up. When I walked, I didn’t care whether I was matching anyone else’s pace or not. I had decided that was how I was going to walk a long time ago. Right after I’d lost Miach.
And there it was. Walking together with Cian brought on the feeling of loss I had dreaded was out there somewhere waiting for me. Miach should’ve been standing right there, right by Cian, book held behind her back, telling us in great detail (without actually looking at us) how we could damage the world in which we lived.
It was like Cian and I were a temple from which someone had stolen our golden Buddha named Miach Mihie. I couldn’t help feeling like there was this space in front of us that should have been filled.
Odd that being together with someone should remind me of what was missing. Our charismatic leader, gone these thirteen years. She carried far too much knowledge in her tiny body, and far too much hatred, and far too much beauty. And now she was gone.
<recollection>
I want to dance on the graves of those kind, healthy people.
A waltz, I think.
</recollection>
A nonexistent Miach looked back at us over her shoulder.
Miach Mihie. Miach Mihie. Miach Mihie.
We passed by volunteers handing out artificial protein soup to political refugees in the airport lobby and took the elevator down to the floor where the subways connected to the airport. On my way down, I had the sudden sensation that Miach was standing right behind me, and I had to turn and look, but it was only Cian.
“You going home?” she asked me as we waited on the subway platform. The platform had been painted an inoffensive sea blue.
I shook my head. “I’ll look for a hotel or find someplace to crash. There’s nothing for me at home.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Everyone wants to hear your stories, you know.”
“Who’s everyone?” I chuckled and shook my head. “Actually, I did get a message from one of the neighbors saying they wanted to throw a welcome home party. They were going to call everyone for two blocks around and be here waiting when my PassengerBird landed. Can you imagine? No thanks. That’s the last thing I need. Especially since my mom was so enthusiastic about the idea.”
“Why not let them have their party? It could be fun.”
“I have nothing to talk to them about.”
“What are you saying? You could tell them about the Sahara, or where you were before that—Colombia, was it? You’ve been to so many places and seen so many things, Tuan.”
Yeah, I could tell them stories. Like the one about the child soldiers drugged up and made to shoot their own parents and siblings for target practice. Or the bloody severed arms and legs piled up in heaps like firewood. Hardly anyone who bought into the admedistration’s protected life had the faintest clue about the realities of war. They were far too busy being nice to everyone in their immediate vicinity to care. Cian was as ignorant as any of them. Ignorant and innocent. Nothing had changed in that regard.
“And I think they’d want to hear about what you’ve been doing,” Cian was saying.
“I’m just not interested.” I sighed for effect. “Cian, you volunteering at all?”
“A little. Three days a week. Delivering meals and taking care of the elderly, that sort of thing.”
“Morality sessions and health conferences?”
“Online, yeah. About fifteen hours a month. It’s not too bad.”
What was this? One of my friends, a girl who couldn’t stand this world, who tried to kill herself just to leave a mark on its perfect face, had conformed completely to a typical, publicly correct lifestyle.
Or maybe it was less personal. Maybe it was just that kids grew up and became adults.
<definition>
<i: To become an adult is to:>
<d: Install WatchMe.>
<d: Accept the dictates of an admedistration.>
<d: Attach oneself to the admedistration server.>
<d: Receive lifestyle directives from some health consultant.>
<d: Show up for conclave sessions, both online and off-line.>
</definition>
Miach’s ghost hovered nearby, a cold smile on her lips as she whispered.
This body, these tits, this ass, this uterus. These are mine.
Aren’t they?
So after our failure, Cian had taken the plunge headfirst into the adult world. The only one dragging her heels was me, and I couldn’t decide whether that was admirable or pitiable.
I hung, suspended in space, somewhere between Miach Mihie’s ghost and Cian Reikado’s innocence.
“Look, Cian, I’ve been overseas a long time, right? So I just don’t know the people who live around my home. I haven’t volunteered with them or gone to health meetings with them. I’m just not very connected to the community.”
I explained to her that being a globe-trotting Helix agent meant:
<list:item>
<i: dangerous working conditions>
<i: difficulty fitting in with social life in any one place>
<i: difficulty forming bonds with former neighbors or a medical community>
<i: an artificially high social assessment score given to make up for all that>
</list>
Because we lacked a conclave to assess us, the admedistration awarded us an arbitrary SA score in order to account for the inconsistency that resulted from doing something very important to the continuation of the admedistration’s lifestyle while, by necessity, being forced to operate independently of that admedistration.
“Oh. Really?”
“Really.”
As I was explaining my life to Cian, I couldn’t help but feeling that I had somehow become Miach. Miach explaining how to use a medcare unit to make a chemical weapon capable of killing fifty thousand people. Miach who could make a pill that would shut down your entire digestive tract.
Miach who could wear a cool smile as she told you she wanted to watch the world burn.
I felt like she must have back then, filled with knowledge no one else had, talking openly, brazenly, full of confidence, fearing nothing, giving every word a declaration.
Hey, Cian, did you know that if you install DummyMe, you can spoof your physical data before it gets sent to the server? Hey, Cian, did you know that you can do anything to yourself with DummyMe installed? Hey, Cian, have you heard about this… Hey, Cian… Say, Cian…
But instead of playing Miach’s doppelgänger, I merely smiled cynically and said, “The real reason they give me a score is because if they didn’t, I’d be labeled a sociopath.”
Cian frowned, not understanding. “So you’re not going home?”
“Probably not.”
Cian stepped in front of me. “Then let’s go get something to eat, at least. There’s this new building near where I live. It looks all bumpy and white from the outside, like it was made out of solid plaster. But when you go inside, you can see out. It’s this new intelligent material, a special light-refracting Styrofoam glass.”
“Sounds pleasant. I’m really not in the mood.”
“We could eat, and then you can come over to my house. It’s only eleven o’clock. How about lunch?”
I had an urge to check with the nonexistent Miach. “Want to go with me and Cian to get some lunch?”