Chapter Two

  The Casino floor was rowdy with hands waving, throwing dice and balls. Cheering came in swathes from groups here and there—some cries of loss with the odd jeer of a win. Eyes were peaking at cards. The bar that wrapped around the floor was a little less busy, but people sat and drank and watched the gamblers from their balcony’s. Drinks were carried on clear trays that hovered alone. All kinds of animal heads walked around with human bodies. Some human heads had animal bodies. Some had metal bodies. Some suited bodies. Some winged. Some caped. Some wore halo’s that shone a different light. Some faceless. It looked like Werewolf skins were this seasons fancy.

  A man spawned in by the slots. He had died silver hair and small facial tattoos of symbols and glyphs, his silver teeth sparkled when he smiled widely. He did a little shuffle with his feet, like a kind of side moonwalk that made his tiger orange suit flap and hang in the air like it was held with puppet string. Maya chuckled and watched him slide around and point at people before he strolled onto the floor. He loitered around the roulette table, watching and grinning with a strut like he was something or someone at least. His hands flared his pockets and he rolled his heel-to-toe when he walked. He watched the balls and players like he was calculating every slow roll. Then, when the Croupier slid over the Dragon-woman’s winnings, he leaned over and took the top chips from her two stacks. She just scooped the rest of the chips up with a smile, said something to the Cyborg next to her and replayed her last bet. The ball went around and she won again. Cheered. And the man smiled his silver smile and did the same thing again. The balls rolled and he strutted about. Then he did it again two more times to the next player that won. When he took the chips, he flicked a one in the air, caught in his palm and slapped it on the back of his other hand and nodded like he got the call right, even though both sides of the chip had the same print. He went over to the poker table and did the same thing with the chips—if it was a pile of three, he took the top three. If one, one. Always the top chips from each pile. Each time he removed them they kind of stuttered in a phase, shone a little glint like the chips were never there, but were. Then he continued to meander around, hands in his pockets and rocking his head like he was in deep conversation to himself. Then when there was a winner, he bounced his silver brows, leant over, and took the chips. Not a single eye or voice was raised. He did this over and over for a Mecha-hour before he left the Casino floor kicking his heels across the carpet and rocking his head and agreeing with himself like he was saying something interesting or meaningful.

  Maya caught up to the man.

  -Hey, she said.

  He didn’t respond.

  -Hey, you, she called out.

  He continued scraping his heels on the carpet, muttering, and wandering like a spoilt child.

  -Hey, thief!

  He stopped dead but didn’t turn around.

  -So that got your attention.

  He didn’t turn around.

  -How did you do that?

  He didn’t turn around.

  - I said, how did you—

  He span around and stared at Maya like he’d seen a ghost. Then looked Maya up and down.

  -Who the shit are you? he asked.

  Maya tucked in her chin and frowned.

  -Little mean, she said.

  The man’s blue eyes shifted from side to side, frowned and tilted his head like a dog. His face twitching, eyes confused and firm.

  Maya gestured toward his pocket.

  -How’d you do that?

  He stared Maya up and down.

  -You… Can see me, he stated.

  - I can see you, she said. So that’s your game. You’re a Mirror. I mean, I heard about it, but I didn’t think—

  -How much do you want? he asked, standing tall and rigid.

  Maya hesitated then said. Twenty percent.

  -Deal, he said, nodding once.

  -Oh, Maya said. That was easy.

  He took a few chips from his pocket and handed them to Maya.

  -Deals a deal, he said. I’ll be off then.

  -Wait, Maya said raising her hand. I want in.

  He stopped, kicked his boots across the carpet, dropped his head back and sighed heavily.

  -In?

  -In, she said. I want in.

  He twisted around on his heels.

  -You can’t be in, he said.

  -Why? She shrugged. You’re in. I want in. So let me in.

  -Or what? he said inquisitively, bouncing on his toes, then rocking back to his heels.

  -Or… Maya looked around the at the floor.

  The man laughed.

  -You should’ve had your consequences ready, he said waving a finger. He leaned forward. His teethy grin wide. It makes you more… serious in your negotiation.

  Maya huffed then said, I’m serious. I’ll report you.

  He slumped his shoulder to the wall, eyed up and picked at his nails.

  -Snitches get stiches, he said with a smirk.

  -Funny, she replied. You get your kicks steeling from people?

  -Whoa whoa, he said, raising his hands before he bumped his shoulder from the wall and stood straight. I’m not steeling from them; not the people.

  - I saw you.

  He nodded.

  -You saw me take the chips, he said raising a brow. But I took them before they touched them. He threw his hands to the air. Leaned in, stared at Maya, and asked. You don’t know?

  -I don’t know. She shrugged.

  -Alas! he called out, whipping his hand in the air like a conductor. The chips don’t get transferred until you touch them. He dropped his hands to his hips and continued. Before then, it still belongs to The House.

  -Steeling is just steeling.

  -Point zero zero zero zero zero zero eight percent of their takings, he said. The big corp. The richest company in the world. He huffed. Steeling isn’t always just steeling.

  -Either way, I’ll report you, said Maya.

  His face turned like a sad clown. He let out a little whine like a crying baby.

  -Wahh, he said. You’ll report me. Wahh. His voice like a toddler.

  -You’re an asshole.

  -And you’ve got nothing, he replied. IF, you report me. And that’s a big if, he muttered. They’ll what? Playback the invisible man? He stood there, hands on hips, tapping his shiny boots on the carpet. They’ll what? Suddenly see me. His fingers bouncing in air quotations as he puffed out air. He waved his hands for Maya to go. You’ve got your money. Now go spend it on Bug Burgers or Nanobot Gels, or whatever it is you spend your money on.

  Maya stood there; arms folded.

  -Last time, she said. I want in.

  He stared Maya up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

  -You’ve got nothing, he said.

  Maya shrugged and rocked her head.

  -No risk to me.

  He stared at Maya, then to the side and then into nothing and squinted like he was weighing something up. Calculating something.

  -You want in? he asked.

  She nodded.

  He rolled his tongue over his teeth then made a clicking sound, then nodded back.

  -Fine, he sighed. Follow me.

  -You spend much time in Deepscape? The man asked as they walked to the back of the Casino.

  Maya shrugged.

  -Never could really afford it, she said.

  -Thought so, he replied. Side eyeing Maya as they walked up the stairs.

  -You know, you’re a bit of a dick, said Maya. Do people ever tell you that?

  -No, he replied.

  -I find that very surprising, she said.

  -Well, today is going to be a surprising day for you, he said as he held out his hand. I’m Cory.

  Maya went to shake it, but as she did he swooped it over his head and made a whoosh sound.

  -You’re like a child, she said.

  -You’re like a child, he mimicked her back in her exact voice.

  -Eww, that’s creepy, she said.

  -Creepy and surprising, he said. Not bad feedback for an afternoons work.

  They walked from the stairs, through the bar and past the punters toward the far end and stopped at the wall.

  - You ever been in Deepscape then? Cory asked.

  -Once.

  He had a displeased look.

  -You’re missing out.

  -No shit, said Maya.

  He drew a circle on his palm with his fingernail and pressed his hand to the wall. It pulsed. Then shimmered and rippled like a stone dropped in a lake, the waves bounced back from a circle, it expanded outward, or inward, like a clear ball was stuck in the wall. The sphere grew, turned black and glittered. Code flickered and dripped inside. Strange symbols that looked like numbers maybe, from a math she didn’t know. Endlessly shifting and scrolling and changing. Some flickered fast between symbols and numbers. Some moved in spheres and were fill of geometric lines of code. Countless calculations within calculations.

  He ushered his arm toward the void.

  -Shall we, he said. He rolled his shoulders back, straightened his posture and stepped in.

  Maya followed.

  The void dripped dots like a reversing waterfall. Sonar-like scattered code pinged back lines and circles and triangles. Each node flickered and carried code and patterns inside, then changed as quickly as they came. Thick barriers began to emerge. Walls. Round things. Shapely marks that looked like scars on the pitch-black. The dripping dotted place around them pulsed and lit up like a switch had commanded it to wake up. They stood in the structure of an apartment. She saw the floors and rooms through each other. Like a map of the place had rendered in around her. Two. No three floors. Room after room. The space they stood in rippled and turned into another reality itself. The walls had frames inside of them, full of those scrolling strange number-symbols. Not on them. In them. She looked closer into the walls and saw figures and people, other realities within the walls. The windows had other worlds. People teeming and jostling in one. Another pane had a jungle inside like the green life was the air trapped between the glass of a double-glazed window. Maya could see monkeys and panthers and nature playing out its relentless game in slow motion. The apartment walls then shone bright. It was warm and the beams had substance, thick and watery and waving through the air as if the foundations themselves were dishing out light and life.

  Cory sang, ‘Ohhh mellow yellow—where do the good times go?

  Ohhh mellow yellow—when do the good times roll?

  Ohhh mellow yellow. He stopped. Slapped his hands, pressed and twisted his feet into the floor—itself had an ocean of a world inside. He stared dramatically at Maya and sung in tenor. These are the good times, now, he called out as he twirled in circles, head bowed, his arms wide like a messiah.

  Maya stared at the walls.

  -This… this isn’t how I remember it.

  -Because, he said. This isn’t Deepscape. He waved a dramatic finger-wave again. This is Nullscape. The layer under Deepscape.

  Maya just stood there like she was waiting for an explanation.

  -What? You don’t know? He asked.

  Maya shook her head.

  -Mecha is the flesh and bones. Deepscape, the digital veins, he said. Nullscape. Well; this is the operating system. The nerves that carry the commands, you might say. The brain, in fact.

  -How… is—

  -Is this possible?

  Maya hesitantly nodded.

  -Every operating system has layers, Maya. You know that. Mecha is the interface, the screen. The face. The top.

  -I get that. But… how are we here?

  -Well, I could explain how I’m here. That’s easy, Cory said. But the question is; how are youhere? Aye? He bounced his brows. What did you do differently? To see me, in there. Walking among the flesh and bones and digital living. He stepped forward, bounced a little sphere with a world inside, and asked, how are you here?

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  -You brought me here.

  -Try again, he said shaking his head.

  Maya fumbled her hands around her pockets.

  Cory rolled his hand as if for her to hurry.

  -What did you do differently? He asked.

  -Nothing. I scrapped all day. I went home. Came in here.

  Cory looked disappointed.

  Maya’s eyes searched the floor of the room. Lines and little circle frames full of lives played out beneath her feet.

  -The chip, she said.

  -The chip?

  -I switched over some wires and a chip. I salvaged it today. It was a graphics card. Mine was old, worn.

  -Interesting, said Cory. His fingers tapping his chin. And that’s all you’ve done differently?

  Maya nodded.

  -Describe the chip, he asked.

  -It was just a chip.

  -It wasn’t just a chip, was it? Because you’re here. Seeing worlds within worlds. Seeing me.

  -These, she pointed. They’re the rooms in Mecha and Deepscape.

  Cory nodded.

  -The flesh and bones, he replied as he raised his arms and twisted. What d’ya think? Cool huh?

  -There’s so many, she said.

  Cory nodded.

  -I’ll be honest, said Cory as he smirked and waved a finger. I’m surprised that you’re surprised. He turned and walked to the window. Forests. Rivers. Mountains and volcanos. Creatures distant in the digital skies. He tapped the window and said. Worlds within worlds within worlds. Like any system.

  -This is… Maya shook her head. Walked to the transparent armless chair and sat and pressed her palms into her eyes. After a few moments she raised her head, her eyes tired and face worn. I’m late, she said.

  -What? Cory said scrunching his face.

  -I have to go, said Maya. I have friends to meet. This… is too much for me right now. You can keep the chips. She stood and reached for the chips in her pocket but pulled out air. She shook her head, then said, I need time to think about this. I have to go.

  Cory just stood there with a wide smile staring at the trapped worlds. He tapped and swiped at the windows. The jungle became a space fleet. He flicked again. A Medieval world of Dragons and fire came and went. Then the window-world was a reality of geometric shapes and equations. He turned to Maya and said. Like Mecha and Deepscape. Nullscape works at a reduction. The standard time Dilation: Ten minutes of Real-World time, equals one hour Mecha time. Ten minutes in Deepscape equals one hour within Mecha. So, ten minutes of Physical time there equals thirty-six hours of Deepscape time. And here, ten minutes Nullspace equals the same one hour within Deepscape. So ten minutes of Real World time equals two hundred and sixteen hours of Nullscape time. We have the time, Maya. All of the time.

  -Then I need time away from this. This place.

  -Sure, Cory said bumping his shoulders. Leave when things get interesting. When you get the time and the gift of seeing. Leave. He stepped close to Maya. You haven’t asked the question yet.

  -This is how you move unseen in Mecha. You have the core programmes.

  He shook his head.

  -No, Maya. I am the core programme.

  *

  In 2042 Hypo Interperceptual Mechanism (HIM) changed the way humans lived. First came Virtual-Reality, then by the early 2020’s, the Meta-Verse and Neural-links. A few years later, Large-Language-Models rolled out in every industry and transformed the way people earn, live, think and act. No longer did you have to wonder about something, anything. Who was that guy from that film? Who sang that song? What did it go like? For those who chose to link to the net via a brain-interface they just had to think it. No questions. No wondering about it. They just thought about it, and less than a second later they had the answers.

  Decades before this, Scientists at CERN were smashing protons together at near light-speed in the Large Hadron Collider—the world's largest and most powerful particle accelerator. In this 27 Kilometre ring—located in an underground tunnel that crosses the border between Switzerland and France. These collisions recreated conditions just after the Big Bang and produced a shower of new particles that were then captured by detectors given names like ATLAS—A Toroidal LHC ApparatuS—and CMS—Compact Muon Solenoid. Superconducting magnets that were colder than space, guided and bound these particles. Then, with some prodding and poking, more sending and smashing, scientists began to explore the universe's fundamental building blocks and forces. Their first major triumph was in 2012, the discovery of the Higgs boson—a particle linked to how things gain mass. The Large Hadron Collider was dubbed ‘a giant experiment that pushed the boundaries of our understanding of the universe and reality.’

  Then, in 2024, some scientists at CERN claimed to have opened a portal and have ‘observed Entities—or Beings—coming and going.’ It was never mentioned on the 24/7 News channels or written in any newspaper, the little attention it got was from a few small scientific magazines and internet conspiracy corners. A few years later, those same scientists disappeared from the public eye. Their interviews were no longer on YouTube, and their social media channels were gone like they were never there. In private though, they continued to accelerate and crack open particles, they did the same to those particles, found more, and in the continuation of human exploration, they discovered energy. Not a format of electricity or fusion. Pure, fabrical energy. The energy that binds the photons within particles together. Like the glue that holds together reality, they said. And a decade later, what the corporations did was buy and use that energy to create and glue together their new digital worlds where time was no longer ruled by light. And coupled with the internet, could even be slowed to allow time to run slower in a digital world. And as quick as Neural-links and Meta-VR came, they were forgotten and left to the shadows of human innovation. The Mecha was born. A world where time ran slower. A Realm built for a generation to live out their dreams. A place where you could be anyone, as long as you earnt the credits to do so. It didn’t take long before this reality turned into a game. A slow, drawn-out game of earning more to spend more on dragons and cloaks and eat virtual meat and drink virtual wine and taste the sweetness of digital success.

  HIM was alive, in a sense. It didn’t breathe air or have a mind or flesh or bones. But it had memory, data strands of human interactions that fed through the digital world like DNA copying and passing on information from parent to child. It’s how evolution works, just faster, said the spokesperson for Mecha-Realm as they stood on their platform, and with the whole world listening she told them that there was a new world where they could go and live their dreams. A place where they could fly and play out their fantasies and have the time to spare. Digital time-dilation is here, she said proudly on that platform. And they took it. They ate it up. The generation that was lost to wonder applauded and hailed them like gods as they disappeared into their new world and handed over their time and traded their realities without hesitation. They left the old behind and welcomed a new world as they slipped into a realm held together by timeless glue and digital promises. A reality where you could be someone. A place where you came for a day and earnt a week.

  *

  The central spire of the Mecha-Realm cast its ‘M’ beacon into sky, lighting up the night like a giant blue sun. Silent sphered drones cast their blue spotlights onto the green and blue parks and silver streets and glowing buildings—some suspended and round like little bright moons, some sharp like needles, some flat and still that reflected back every jet and dragon and little silent drone.

  A runner—his boots aflame—passed through Maya and Cory in a flash. She span in a circle and dodged, but the runner was gone, just smoke billowing beneath and within Maya’s feet.

  Cory stood and watched with a smile that came then dipped.

  -Look at them; happy, he said as he kept watching them fly and run and interact with the air. Do you think they would be as happy if they knew?

  -Knew what?

  -Knew anything. Knew something. Knew how it all really worked.

  -You haven’t told me how it works, said Maya.

  -Would you be happy? Cory asked. If you knew?

  -I think I would, she said.

  Cory hesitated, touched her arm and pointed to a diner. It flashed blue ‘OPEN 4/28’

  -Let’s eat, he said.

  Cory bit into the burger and cheese dripped down his chin. He smiled and sighed and said, tastes better than the Real. He nodded and thanked the waitress who handed him a large paper cup filled with Lemonade. You don’t find it weird? he asked.

  Maya was staring at the fries on the clear and clean table like she was waiting for them to do something before she replied.

  -Find what weird?

  -All this, said Cory gesturing to the waitress as she moved a cloth over the counter and then pushed at some buttons on the Craving machine. Behind her, the open grill steamed and sizzled, and a large man, heavy and hardworking, flipped patties and poked at sausages.

  Maya shrugged, eyes still on the fries.

  Cory bit and chewed loudly with a mouth half-full and smiled a cheesy and silver smile.

  -It’s like, it’s a new world, he said, waving his burger around. You can do anything; but everything’s the same. Minus the food and riding mythical animals and all that, you know. You never wondered?

  Maya shifted her gaze from the fries to the window, over the empty booths to the waitress and the Craving machine and to the chef prodding and flipping.

  Cory snuffed, like the bite when down his airhole.

  -I mean, there’s nobody else here, he mumbled, chewed again. Chuckled, then said. Why’s he flipping burgers? Who they for? He swallowed and knocked his chest with his fist, took a large gulp from the paper cup. He sighed in relief, pressed his elbows on the table and finished the burger, licked his fingers then pointed one at the fries. You eating them?

  Maya shook her head. She planted her back on the seat and folded her arms.

  -You said, it tastes better than the Real, she said, nodding at the paper wrapping.

  Cory nodded as he dipped a cluster of fries in the cheese stuck to the paper.

  -Better than Ants, he said. He waved the dripping fries for a moment before funnelling them into his mouth. Real cheese, too, he mumbled, nodding a few more times.

  Maya frowned and rocked her head.

  -How do you know what the food tastes like in the Real?

  Cory screwed his face, then shook his head slightly.

  -Durr, he groaned. Because I live there. He rocked his head. I’m human, too. He scratched at the wrapper, picked it up and licked at it.

  -How? Maya asked. How are you a… the core program, and real?

  The wrapper inched down enough for his narrow eyes to stare at Maya as he continued to lick.

  -Reality is a perspective, he said.

  Maya sighed.

  -Stop this shit, please. Just have it. Tell me.

  Cory flicked the wrapper to the table.

  -All this, he said. It’s mine. I created it fifteen years ago.

  Maya tilted her head.

  -You don’t look like Sara Khan, or Silas Vance. Or act like them, she said.

  -Correct, Cory replied. Firstly, the face and the master. He shook his head. They’re never the minds behind the work, he added as he bounced his silver brows. Secondly, how people act in public, is not how they act in private. Or in here. You remember the speech she gave? He asked.

  Maya nodded.

  -You remember that whole thing on how they found that energy when they smashed-up protons?

  -Fabrical Mucilage, said Maya.

  Cory nodded.

  -Well… he pointed and lingered a finger to his grinning face.

  -You? You worked at CERN?

  Cory rocked his head.

  -Close. Well… Yes and no. Kind of. It depends on… your perspective, I guess.

  Maya flipped her hands, jutted forward impatiently.

  -Okay, okay. He hesitated, rocked his head and said. Briefly. I guess.

  Maya nodded like she got there.

  -Then Mecha snapped you up?

  Cory wobbled his head, whined an ehhh.

  -Just tell me, god dammit, Maya said.

  -Closer, warmer, he said, then grinned. You’re good at this.

  -Cory!

  -Okay, okay. This is just fun for me, he said showing his hands like he’s surrendering. It’s been a while, since… you know. I’ve done much talking. Explaining. He leant back and stared out the window and then at the waitress and then at Maya. Okay, he sighed. You ready?

  -For?

  -I’ll show you, he said. It’s easier that way.

  Maya stared at Cory, then out the window, then at the waitress. She nodded.

  -Okay.

  -Good, said Cory. He clapped his hands and the Diner went dark.

  *

  What you see, isn’t always what you get. What you hear is what your told to hear. What you smell, what you taste, what you touch with your hands and skin, what you feel—your hunger, thirst, pleasure and pain, you feel it dragging in your muscles and tendons and you carry it in your bones. What you think—disappointment, happiness, anger, joy, desire, rage and confusion, the voice in your mind talking back at you like there’s a whole orchestra of you directing you, a symphony of selves, thinking this, judging them, analysing that—isn’t you.

  *

  The human eye perceives a tiny fraction of visible light. We see a sliver. 0.0035% of the overall electromagnetic spectrum to be precise. Our human eyes convert this seen light into electrical signals, which, in turn, is sent and processed by the brain to create our visual experience.

  Our hearing detects sound waves within a frequency range of approximately 20 Hz to 20,000 Hz. Tiny bones shake and vibrations move through fluid and converts those waves into electrical signals, which to the brain is sound.

  Every molecule vibrates and shakes itself to a specific beat.

  The hairs in our noses catch and convert molecules into what the human brain perceives as smell. When those beating molecules—in a solid state—reach your tongue, they vibrate in sweet, sour, bitter and umami, and your brain tells you how things taste. Your skin tells you what you feel in the outside world, if things are hot or too cold. Your body tells you to not touch that fire again. You mind tells you to stay away from the ice-cold water.

  All this is your reality. But not all of realties. And even in a digital world your senses are bound by your biology. But there’s another Realm—one where there is no boundary. The place we go when our heart stops pumping, and we stop thinking and feeling. A realm where your feelings and thoughts are shaped into geometry.

  The place I’m from.

  *

  At the precise moment the CERN Portal opened, a man with grey hair wearing a grey suit and black tie appeared, he stood on the concrete gazing at the clear, bright blue sky, just beyond a small town named Meyrin on the Swiz-Franc boarder. He looked at his hands and his feet and then smiled. His second self-left his physical and joined the internet. He stood and waited for a few minutes before a grey Tesla arrived. He pressed his thumb to the door, sat in, tugged at the steering column and the display blinked Self-drive, then a blue line appeared and a destination: Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport. He watched through the windows at the trees and the roads, then the farms and the mountains, then at the people in the villages before the places got bigger and the roads and the towns seemed sadder.

  He boarded a flight. Arms ushered. People sat. Babies cried. Ears popped. Carts knocked. Teethy smiles smiled. Coffee poured. Cartons slurped. Lights blinked. Carts knocked. Trays passed hands. Plastic ruffled. Then he ate the stew and shook his head as he mumbled, I missed this. The woman beside him turned her mouth, ogled at him and his smile then the brown mess that he was spooning down. And soon, as the clouds parted and the sun ahead was lower and the blue below and above turned darker, the metal tube only hummed, and the hands and faces lit up their own blue from the screens in the dark. All the while he smiled.

  -Professor Lundstrem, we’re excited to have you, the receptionist said after he scanned his thumb. Please, wait a moment before your escort arrives.

  He smiled and nodded politely, then sat and watched while he waited. The hollowed-out lobby stretched its white and silver panels across the circular walls and climbed to the white and silver metal sky. Rings of mezzanines held people and doors. Doors opened and closed and people paced and tapped at their screens and talked and gestured into the air. Men dressed in black suits perused the polished floor and stood under blinking lenses beside never opening doors. Flared trousers and baggy jeans and oversized hoodies hung off lightweight jittering frames, their hands ever scrolling, jaws never closing, ears filled and flashing with some node or wire.

  -Professor Lundstrem, a perky voice on a young face said. Silas is ready for you. Please, follow me.

  Silas Vance marched, waved his hands about his glass domed world. All sky and no buildings was his view above the few lights and points that peaked at the base of his window-dome, a digital terrarium empty of life. A notification shone blue on his desk. ‘Professor Jonathon Lundstrem has arrived.’

  -I’m going, Silas said in a huff.

  -Make sure he gets it, the voice on the end of the comms chimed.

  Silas flicked a finger and the call on his computer dropped. He waved a hand as he pressed his other hand onto his temples and then bridge of his nose.

  -Send him in, he said.

  -I’m a man who values time, Jon. Can I call you Jon? I’ll call you Jon. We’re a… first name kind of basis here.

  -Jon is fine, Jonathon replied. He looked around the office for somewhere to sit. But there was just a basketball hoop. A coffee machine and empty little cups scattered around a chest-high circular desk with seven scrolling screens around its rim.

  -Good, said Silas. A man of efficiency. Like me. I like that. I like this, Jon. You’re work. You’re ambition. What? The guys at CERN not paying you enough?

  -Not nearly enough, said Jonathon.

  Silas threw his head back, laughed once and loud.

  -You know, you didn’t have to dress up for us. I like it, I do. I mean, we’re kind of a casual operation here. You get that. You get this. It speaks of ambition. Your ambition. Your professionalism. You get it. I’ll ask you one question, Jon. It’s not a question of how much or when—we both know I’m having it and I’ll pay for it. The question is can you keep silent? Not screw me. Sell off to another. We both know this isn’t a one-time-trick you’ve got, a single ride, per se. We don’t do NDA’s here… well we do, but not for this. This will be more of a… NLA.

  Jonathon tilted his head. Shifted his hands a little upward.

  -Non-life-agreement. You know. You get it. Sell-up elsewhere and you end-up, he said before dragging his thumb over his neck. Get it?

  -I get it, Jonathon replied with a single nod.

  -Great, Silas said. Anyway, you won’t need money after today, Jon. We don’t do contracts either… well we do, but not for this. One time. One payment—now. Well, after you do the thing, you do. He tossed over a tablet. It crashed into Jon’s chest and then flopped on the floor. Silas waved his hand and said, put whatever your number is, in, and wallet ID. Then we’ll go down to the lab. Your do your thing, he pointed at Jon, then at himself, and nodded once. Then I do my thing. You walk out a rich, happy man. Never have to see those lab coats again. Deal?

  -Deal, Jonathon said.

  -Love it, Jon, said Silas. Love it.

  Jonathon stood before a computer screen behind eight people.

  -Put it in, said Silas.

  Jonathon turned, picked up a piece of paper and biro and wrote down an equation.

  -That’s it? Asked Silas.

  Jonathon nodded.

  -That’s it, he said.

  Silas grabbed it, handed the paper to another person.

  -Check it.

  The woman gasped a little then whispered something to someone else and then they gasped and whispered to something. They both nodded once.

  -It’s it? Asked Silas.

  They nodded twice.

  -Great, said Silas. He nodded to another man.

  A bald man pulled a gun.

  Jonathon grinned.

  -Go in peace, he said.

  The man shot him in the head.

  At the time the trigger was pulled, Jonathon’s second-self, David, watched from the camera in the computer in the lab.

  -The Lord is witness between you and me, and between your descendants and my descendants forever, he said.

  At the moment the bullet left Jonathon’s brain, a grey-haired man wearing a grey suit and black tie appeared on the concrete in a small town named Meyrin on the Swiz-Franc boarder. He looked at his hands and his feet, then chuckled. He then walked the short fifteen minutes to Buvette La Grignotte, a little cafe in the sun just outside of town. He ordered a cheeseburger and frits on his phone, and then watched people walk and sit, look, and press, and then wave their hands expressively into the air. When his order came, he bit into the cheeseburger, wiped the cheese from his chin, popped a cluster of frits into his mouth then licked his salty fingers and smiled.