《The Girl Who Chases The Wind》


 The Girl Who Chases The Wind - Chapter 1: The Reporter

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 1: The Reporter


    I received an article offer from one of my regular patrons between tea and staring at an old-timey, blinking cursor on a screen.


    The offer came attached with a brief message detailing the potential for compensation and what would be expected of me. If it was a generation ago, I¡¯d imagine a big, fluorescent-toned office with thin walls and glass rooms. A bearded editor strides in and pitches me the story he wants me to write for the newspaper.


    Of course, even then, such situations never happened except in movies rooted a further generation in the past. This editor, who I could only imagine as some baby-face ten years my junior who could multitask data at a level I couldn¡¯t even manage on the king of all caffeine rushes, spewed out words like a live dump from his active memory.


    ¡°...2K w least. Mantlemay Project invest into Qs of brains/humanity/corruption. Current rumor Dr A. Feldon pet project is fetish feed. Old men to hot girls. Background, Q all you can, media limit six. Get dirt.¡±


    Two thousand words was a premiere piece, especially with a limit of six videos or photos. I¡¯d heard of the Mantlemay Project. I went to my research shelf and pulled a few books off before I found what I needed.


    The Mantlemay Project had its roots in a pair of DARPA initiatives. The first endeavored to instantly repair any wound without needing to transport a soldier from the theater of conflict. Replacements for complex body parts from harvested adult stem cells. The second involved special nanoparticles in the treatment of traumatic brain injuries. Due to late-stage funding cuts, the two projects had to be consolidated. Researchers forced to commute together between Irvine and San Diego had plenty of time to chat.


    I paused my reading there and decided to take the job with a hand motion at my screen. I received travel directions along with some spending money to my account.


    After packing a bag for several days along with all my equipment, I piled a few relevant texts into the car and let auto-drive lead the way.


    I learned through my reading that Arnold Feldon was the patent holder on many of the Mantlemay Project technologies, but he released them all to the public, like some contemporary Jonas Salk. Because of that, just about every clinic offered some form of Mantlemay-inspired treatment for physical or neurological injuries. It didn¡¯t do miracles. Miracles were for the Feldon Ranch, my destination.


    I phoned ahead. Not a busy day for them. The receptionist listened to my story and passed me to the man himself.


    ¡°I hear you¡¯re a reporter?¡±


    Feldon¡¯s voice carried through my car speakers like ice grinding against ice. An older voice but one with plenty of energy. He also had an accent which sounded European but from nowhere specific.


    I captured the audio for notes. I told him who I was with and offered, ¡°I¡¯ve done some reading, but I honestly have no idea what you guys do. A lot of people don¡¯t. They imagine science run amuck. Let me show them and demystify it.¡±


    He was hesitant, citing, ¡°I¡¯ve not had good history with reporters. They like rumors.¡±


    ¡°I bet they just rush in, get the quick version and get out of there as quickly as possible.¡±


    He didn¡¯t dispute this assessment. I assured him, ¡°I want the full tour. I want to understand, so I can pass along everything to my readers. You¡¯re a humanitarian, a hero. You¡¯ve saved so many lives. People need to remember that.¡±


    Feldon didn¡¯t require much cajoling before I had a room to stay and welcome access to the ranch. I could¡¯ve returned to the books at this point, but I¡¯d had my teaser.


    If I had too much then it would prime me for what to expect. I wanted to be surprised in all the good ways. I hadn¡¯t had a story like that in a while.


    I napped till the road turned rough. I was way the heck out there, past the last embers of even spotty 6G reception. The wilds.


    The ranch was impressive, with the gloss of bleeding edge photovoltaic materials on everything. Like a work of art dropped in the middle of nowhere. Horse stables, an athletic center, and a clay circular track lay fenced off to the side. I parked a distance out and took only the essentials, my advanced recorders and my ancient notepad.


    I ambled towards the track. Fresh and well-maintained with some interior cement courts. A large pool glimmered in the distance. To my right, through the links of the fence, I noticed a twisting and twinkling swarm of green. Leaning, I could see a teenage girl in a pale tracksuit. Green hair flowed down behind her back. She was running.


    She moved fast, faster than anyone I¡¯d seen in person, and I started out covering track and field for my high school news blog. She pumped her arms and slammed her legs like pistons on a classic engine. It struck me that she wasn¡¯t panting. She barely even seemed to be breathing. And there was just a single droplet of sweat by the side of her cheek. Or was that a tear? She was moving too quickly to tell.


    Then, she noticed me. Her stiff, plain expression tightened into a scowl as she pulled up and stopped by the fence. I bowed my head politely and offered a quick, ¡°Hello¡­¡±


    She wasn¡¯t much taller than one and a half meters. Considering her shape, she had to be in her teens, maybe not even in high school yet. She brushed her mint-toned hair from her eyes. She was breathing slowly as she approached the fence. And there was no sweat on her body, at all.


    Her eyes, somewhere between the flat tones of a simple gray and the stark, bitter brilliance of blue, narrowed as she reached a small hand out to grip through the holes in the fence. I took a quick step back, partly out of politeness but mostly out of a sudden rush of fear.


    She looked me up and down, gave a quick snort, and released the fence with a rattle. An instant later, she was off like a leaf caught in a sudden gale, only she was the wind.


    I could merely gawk as she dwindled to a green smear around the loop of the track, legs still propelling her with unnatural force. I took note of a few other small buildings near the sports area before entering the main building.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    While the exterior of the ranch appeared more contemporary, I could smell the fresh wood inside and see broad, unfinished timber spread across the ceiling. I gave a name to the receptionist and she guided me to an area which felt more like a clinic. Dr. Feldon rose from a plush, sprawling couch to shake my hand.


    He clenched my hand with more strength than I was expecting. The back of his hand was taut with bands of leathery flesh in a subdued hue with the muddled masses of what used to be freckles. His face showed the same stretching, like a human suit not quite smoothed out. These lines felt odd not only because of the strength of his grip or the way he vaulted himself from the depths of his couch, but also from the refreshing energy with which he addressed me.


    Small talk about the drive came first. I was offered something to drink, which I accepted but saved for later. After setting up my equipment, I took a few quick shots of the area for a media clip B-roll. For the interview, I started with my paper pad, which Dr. Feldon complimented me on and offered, ¡°All my old notes came from paper. So easy when your battery is out or you can¡¯t get to a keyboard to save an idea.¡±


    I began with some general details about his life. I finally nailed down which part of Europe he was from. I traced his early days at UC Irvine. I brought the both of us closer to the present and even got a partial answer on why he gave up his patents.


    ¡°I pledged never to do it for the money. I could¡¯ve made so much from the patents. Billions. But who would I be taking it from? That¡¯s what I asked myself. And yet I still made enough for me and my foundation.¡±


    I made some quick notes and points for later questions. Details on his current primary sources of funds. Stuff on the foundation and those who ran it aside from him. For the moment, I needed the overview.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start off¡­assume I don¡¯t know anything about what Mantlemay is¡­I just get treatments at a doctor¡¯s office and I know it¡¯s somehow involved. So¡­what is Mantlemay and what¡¯s the big deal?¡±


    Feldon stroked the dusty-snow beard perched on the fringes of his chin and bowed his head. ¡°I actually have a room we can visit.¡±


    I dragged along one of the better recording cameras. The room was covered in medical equipment. Some of it looked state-of-the-art, other things seemed painfully-dated, and a few things resembled castoffs from a medieval torture chamber.


    He started by tapping a small contraption which resembled an unfurled armadillo with plates of its armor bunching up against one another.


    ¡°This was once a device of science fiction. It enables the mass production of lines of adult stem cells. So much begins right here. We had¡­a lot of trouble getting complex structures together. Bone cells, fine. Muscle cells, okay. But you want to make a leg for someone, there is so much else to the recipe. All the little things, so you have a functioning leg.¡±


    I was grateful he didn¡¯t dwell too much on the technical side. I had enough in my books to fill that out.


    I pointed out, ¡°But Mantlemay didn¡¯t stop at new legs or new nerves.¡±


    He gave a faint nod as he left some of the older contraptions for the newer ones. ¡°That it did. Little thing too¡­the name. Most think it¡¯s something to do with the Earth¡¯s mantle¡­some fancy allegory of primal material. But my¡­.dear departed wife was named May and her mother¡¯s maiden name was Mantle. That¡¯s all.¡±


    Shame it wasn¡¯t an allegory. I could¡¯ve used that. Still, I made a note.


    Letting off a quick sigh, Feldon caressed a device which looked like an upturned chalice without all the ornamentation. He explained, ¡°Nanotech and stem cells. No reason they would go together. But a happy accident which resulted in Memetic Crystalline.¡±


    Lifting the chalice, he revealed a lump of gray, shimmering material. I stepped back as though he¡¯d just unveiled hot plutonium. I tried to be objective. It reminded me of ice cream which had melted into a gray mass and then refrozen with a shell of ice tracing the surface.


    He waved me closer, explaining, ¡°You¡¯re fine. It won¡¯t bite.¡± He poked it with a finger, which only made me wince. ¡°This is not fully-formed Memetic Crystalline. It¡¯s inert. And it¡¯s been sitting here for years. Give it a touch.¡±


    My eyes lingered on Feldon¡¯s steady gaze. Nothing appeared insane there. He waved me closer. If I was truly a ¡®smart man¡¯ then I would¡¯ve long ago realized freelance journalism is more trouble than it¡¯s worth for words soon forgotten in an accelerating age and pay swiftly eaten away by a single month¡¯s rent. But, being who I am, I poked the damn thing.


    I expected fluffiness or maybe the texture of an old but still somehow moist piece of half-chewed gum dropped by a giant. It was as hard as a chunk of stone and as glossy as if it had been freshly washed. At the same time, I had the sensation that the act of poking it was also rousing it, pushing it by an invisible degree into a new shape.


    Dr. Feldon¡¯s only question was, ¡°Pretty cool, no?¡±


    I inspected my poking finger for holes before I finally replied, ¡°Something like that¡­¡±


    Though I knew the basic details, Dr. Feldon energetically told me, ¡°Full Memetic Crystalline both absorbs and remembers. If you were to touch that¡­poof¡­it becomes your finger. But you can read every cell, every trace of genetic material, everything. All sealed away. A perfect record. Holograms in crystal. And that¡¯s just the start¡­¡±


    I took a few more notes as he led me through how records in Memetic could be reshaped and tweaked, a perfect recipe for building better organic parts, and even synthetic ones. I recalled a time when everyone wanted to store permanent records on (relatively) safe Memetic Crystalline. Still, most couldn¡¯t quite get over the all-consuming blob image.


    After a few nice close-ups, Dr. Feldon got this look in his eye. It was a little devious-looking but mostly playful. He rubbed his hands together softly and asked me, ¡°Would you like to try some?¡±

 The Girl Who Chases the Wind – Chapter 2: Examples

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 2: Examples


    It took me a moment to realize what he was asking me. Now, I¡¯ve been offered to try some pretty weird things for articles. The most memorable instances would have to be the restaurant where sounds beyond human hearing altered the flavors of food (not fun for my inner ear) and the tour of algae-based microbreweries (not fun for waking up the next morning).


    But being offered to ¡°try¡± a substance which would absorb the information inside my body and replace it with itself¡­that had to be up there as well.


    I made sure I heard him correctly.


    He elaborated, ¡°It¡¯s incredibly safe in small quantities. I¡¯ve been trying to get more doctors all over the world to at least try the pure version with their patients. It doesn¡¯t even take that much training. Alas, few have taken me up on my offer.¡±


    Guiding me by the arm, Dr. Feldon led me into another room more like a typical doctor¡¯s examination room.


    I set my feet and told him, ¡°I really should pass¡­¡±


    He gave a laugh, before saying, ¡°I assure you I won¡¯t bill your health insurance. Now don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll walk through everything one step at a time. I¡¯ll have you sign a lot of stuff saying you can sue me broke if anything goes wrong.¡±


    The papers didn¡¯t do much to reassure me, especially with Dr. Feldon¡¯s gleeful expression. I had to ask, ¡°Is this for all the reporters who¡¯ve been mean?¡¯


    He gave a full belly laugh and rubbed my hand. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re already better than any of those¡­individuals¡­no no, this is a gift. Truly. This is what I¡¯m good at. Now, do you have any particular ailments like a...compressed nerve, back pain, anything in particular you¡¯d like to fix?¡±


    I had a lengthy list of complaints which usually never made it to the level of a doctor visit. But I did often get soreness along my upper back which no special chairs or pleasant massages could quite get rid of. Sitting for work and relaxation didn¡¯t help either. I mentioned this.


    Dr. Feldon clasped his hands. ¡°A common source of pain along with the sciatic nerve. Now, if I were treating you in a comprehensive fashion for a significant nerve disorder, I would have to consider how nerves from separate ends of the body are interconnected. Even if you fix the nerves at the site of pain, you can still get echoes of it from other nerves. But since this is just a little test, we¡¯re only going to do a little. You might feel some lessened back pain. I will also need to use some Cellular D as fill-in at the site of the procedure.¡±


    ¡°Cellular D?¡±


    He waved his hands, as though acknowledging and conducting an invisible orchestra. ¡°What I call it. You might know it as Patch-Up or some variety of technical names. It basically heals wounds. The D is for dermal."


    I nodded to that. Patch-Up was a wound care product, used by the military and high-end hospitals. I had to wonder if that was a patent Feldon still owned. If so, then that could go a ways to explaining his ranch.


    I asked him as I began signing the paperwork for the nerve procedure. He was quiet for a moment and then answered, ¡°I never owned the patent myself. I used to share some licensing since Memetic Crystalline was used to make it and other products.¡± His words sounded with the disharmony of regret. I preferred to believe it was for the countless who bled out because high-end Patch-Up was either too expensive or in too limited supply for your average emergency room.


    And I was going to receive a pure gob of it in whatever hole Dr. Feldon was about to make in me. He even set up some mirrors so I could see the entire process for myself. I could¡¯ve just pointed one of my cameras at my back, shut my eyes, and checked it later.


    I still had a camera aimed at me though. This would likely be at the top of the article media. A reporter going under the knife. I would get some decent hits for that, at least.


    I also knew that I had to man up and watch it. Dr. Feldon let his chuckles slip away and took on a calm, professional tone. Fortunately, I barely needed to lower my shirt for the procedure.


    The injector itself had a special, swift anesthetic probe like a licking anteater. Soon, my neck was cool and numb. I watched the probe slide in with a long, slow breath. The container was opaque, fortunately, so I didn¡¯t have to see the quantity of Memetic Crystalline slip in through my tissues.


    As Feldon explained, the control chip in the injector forced the Crystalline to only seek out and replace the nerves in my body. Within a few, cubic inches of neck, they were now being replaced with a synthetic, crystal-like nanostructure. Bits of my body were being eaten and the thing digesting them was becoming part of my body.


    I wouldn¡¯t have frowned on anyone who voided their bowels or bladder at that moment.


    So, what did I expect? Something. Maybe the frozen, throbbing tingle of a still-archaic shot to the mouth at a dentist''s office? At least the sensation of a pin prick. I blamed the topical anesthetic, but that numbness wasn¡¯t as strong as before.


    Dr. Feldon assured me this was fine, saying, ¡°Your crystalline nerves are waking up.¡±


    For the next part, he just tapped on the injector keypad while explaining, ¡°I am fixing any compressed or otherwise damaged nerves. Easy as that.¡±


    My neck did feel a little better and even a little muscle spasm down in my leg went away. It could¡¯ve been entirely psychosomatic, but I was still impressed. He put away the injector to reveal a small hole in the back of my neck. It oozed slightly but didn¡¯t hurt.


    Then, I watched as he took a scalpel from a tray table and sliced a larger hole in the same spot. I was about to yell out before he smeared a muddy paste in the wound.


    In the span of a frantic breath, I watched the injector wound and the scalpel wound seal up in my skin tone without scar or sign anything had been cut. That was absurdly fast, even for something like Patch-Up.


    Finally indulging in a little chuckle, Feldon told me, ¡°Finished.¡±


    I resisted cursing. ¡°You could¡¯ve told me you were going to do that.¡±


    Bowing his head, Feldon turned up his hands and explained, ¡°A little indulgence to theatricality. But this shows you the new nerves begin with a control setting. Any extreme sensation is immediately shut off. With a control chip, the level of pain feedback can be moderated. Very useful, depending on the patient.¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    He picked up the scalpel again and I bent out of the way. He apologized and informed me, ¡°Just this last thing.¡± I didn¡¯t lean back, but I didn¡¯t try to avoid his scalpel as he sliced the same spot one last time. I felt a faint tickle but nothing more as the skin parted bloodlessly. Another breath later, it had knit back together and looked the same as before.


    All I could say was a quiet, ¡°What¡­¡± Not even the best Patch-Up product could do that.


    Finally leaving his tools behind, Dr. Feldon clasped his hands and explained, ¡°You have¡­for about the next hour or so¡­.probably the most useless superpower. An inverted Achilles ability, if you will. You feel no pain from your new nerves and you heal any wound in that small area. After an hour, the Cellular D loses its regenerative ability and becomes normal tissue. As well, if you¡¯re outside the range of the control chip, you will have normal pain reception in your back. Hopefully, my corrections mean you will feel less pain normally but, as I said, this was just an example¡­not a treatment.¡± He then moved over to rinse and dry his hands.


    I caressed the back of my neck. It felt absolutely, perfectly normal. Not even a seam to show where the cuts were made. Nothing. Just normal flesh.


    Dr. Feldon, tossing a paper towel away, said, ¡°Remarkable, isn¡¯t it? What mankind has been able to do. But such a shame I cannot make it available to everyone who needs it. Alas¡­but I do what I can. Come along, I still have so many more miracles to show you.¡±


    I churned with questions to fling at Feldon like darts. His ¡®Cellular D¡¯, especially if his comment about an hour of swift regeneration was correct, should¡¯ve had companies and governments beating down the door of his ranch. I could envision a soldier slathered in the stuff turned into a real, unkillable superhero. Or an army of them marching across a battlefield. And if both sides had it¡­


    My questions receded and I was left to contemplate quietly.


    For the next branch of the tour, we were finally in the main part of the clinic. Staff, many wearing blue, flowing lab coats with normal clothes underneath, passed between rooms. Occasionally, someone stopped to talk to Dr. Feldon. They only gave me a quick glance.


    With permission given by the patients first, I was allowed to see the range of conditions the ranch treated. Some of the minor cases involved forms of clinical depression.


    For one case, I met an older woman with short, graying blond hair who seemed outwardly normal. She was kind and rather quiet. Married with three children. I watched Dr. Feldon as he interacted with her. He kept a light demeanor. He asked her about her day. I had to step out for one part where they went over a journal she kept as part of her treatment. It reassured me a bit that, while the clinic seemed to have cure-alls, they didn¡¯t rely solely on them.


    I learned that mood disorders were particularly challenging to treat, even with the benefit of Memetic Crystalline to move, alter, and repair nerves.


    Softly, Dr. Feldon told me, ¡°We can work to know everything about the body and how it all goes together but there¡¯s always more. Always ever the little things.¡±


    I did indeed see some miracles along the way. I saw a case of Bell¡¯s palsy vanish in a patient over the course of a single treatment with deep tissue MC and I watched amputated fingers restored. It was all quite a sight for one morning.


    Flipping back over my notebook, I realized my handwriting had deteriorated even more than usual. Frantic and scratchy, I¡¯d resorted to quick notes. I hadn¡¯t gotten much else on my cameras but it was only the first day and hunger was beginning to creep up. For later, Feldon promised me a coma patient along with other surprises.


    I inquired about the lack of cars in the parking lot.


    Feldon explained, ¡°Many of our patients arrive via the helipad from other facilities and others are carpooled in for the day because of the long drive from town. If anyone needs to stay more than a day¡­like yourself, there are some small residences behind the ranch. There are even more in the woods not far from here.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow at his mention of woods. The rest of the area appeared dry and desolate. He chuckled and assured me, ¡°They are quite splendid. A transplanted reminder of the forests of old where I grew up.¡±


    With the first part of the tour winding down, Feldon led me to the cafeteria, which adjoined a small, luscious garden area with patio seating. It looked pretty standard for a medical cafeteria, except for the fact that the menu was spread across an entire wall and item substitutions seemed to be encouraged. Probably for those with special diets, I figured.


    Before we parted ways, Dr. Feldon gave me a time and place to meet up later for my afternoon tour. So far as lunch, I settled on a BBQ chicken sandwich and some chips. I scanned the crowd. Mostly staff in their blue lab coats with a few others in scrubs. The rest were dressed in regular street clothes. I assumed these were patients or family members. Then, there were the two girls in the corner.


    I recognized the one closest to the wall. It was the green-haired sprinter. She wore the same, pale tracksuit from earlier. She splayed across the length of the booth with her legs crossed. Her dark purple sneakers looked nearly black aside from dried mud in tan streaks.


    The girl facing away from me was slightly taller than her. Still, she seemed young as well. Her slim hands cradled a spoon as it hovered over a bowl of chocolate cake drowned in strawberry ice cream. She was dressed in a silken gown with flourishes of painterly yellow flowers against a background of lavender which shifted to pink around her dangling legs, which kicked yellow sandals against the table¡¯s support beam. Most striking of all was her hair.


    It was longer than the other girl¡¯s and an unearthly shade of red which had me grappling for the right description. It wasn¡¯t a nearly-metallic pink tone of magenta. And it wasn¡¯t as though someone had just taken a red marker to her head. Yet still, it was stark against the plain, mellow shades of the room. And I had the sense it wasn¡¯t dyed.


    I¡¯d seen plenty of extreme dye jobs (long story about a short article which never got published anyway). Hair like that would¡¯ve shown some trace of manipulation or fakery. No, that was her real hair.


    I was staring, and it didn¡¯t take long for the green-haired girl to bend forward and give me a stern stink eye. I could¡¯ve looked away and acted embarrassed, but I was too curious.

 The Girl Who Chases the Wind – Chapter 3: Sweetness

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 3: Sweetness


    Abandoning my lunch, I walked over and attempted to introduce myself before the green-haired girl blurted out, ¡°Go away.¡±


    She gazed at me with thinly-veiled annoyance. The redhead pressed her hand to her chin and looked between us, her lip quivering. She managed to get in a quiet, ¡°Ummmm¡­¡± before the green-haired smacked her palms on the table and sharply added, ¡°As in now!¡±


    I took a step back and offered, ¡°My apologies. I meant no offense.¡±


    In a small voice, the redhead asked, ¡°Offense?¡±


    Kicking up one of her legs, the green-haired girl answered, ¡°He was ogling us and thought we wouldn¡¯t notice.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Nothing of the sort. I mean¡­I was looking but just at your hair.¡±


    ¡°What of it?¡±


    Bracing myself, I answered, ¡°It¡¯s unique. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡±


    The redhead wore a blush as she brushed back a lock of her brilliant hair. The green-haired one just scowled as she shot back, ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a moronic hipster quite like you, but I took just one look earlier and that was enough for me.¡±


    Slapping her feet against the bench, she vaulted up and stared me down. Cutting across in front of me, she reached out for the other one¡¯s arm and said, ¡°Come on, I¡¯ve lost my appetite.¡±


    The redhead looked back mournfully at her dessert and begged, ¡°But¡­but¡­the cake.¡±


    Raising her lime-toned eyebrows, the green-haired one asked, ¡°Seriously?¡±


    The spoon quivered in the redhead¡¯s grip as she beheld the leaking rivers of pink encircling the chocolate cliffs. The green-haired one let her arm go as she conceded, ¡°Fine¡­See ya.¡± Striding swiftly, she was through the far side door and away before I could take another breath. In her wake, I could feel the disturbed air without a single scent or aroma carried with it.


    After gouging out an entire slopping face of her chocolate cake, the redhead told me, ¡°I¡¯m afraid she does that a lot. I¡¯m Lily.¡± She swallowed her cake with a smile.


    I introduced myself and asked for permission to sit. She beckoned me to take the place where the other one had been sitting. I settled into the exact spot and noticed that it didn¡¯t feel warm like someone had been sitting there. It was curious, but there were many possible explanations.


    As soon as I sat down, I hopped up again to rescue my lunch from a diligent janitor. I set my bags aside but kept my notebook out as I asked, ¡°So, your name is Lily? Are you a patient of Dr. Feldon¡¯s?¡±


    Lily confirmed the first part but hesitated on the second. Instead of answering, she filled her mouth with more cake. Eventually, she brushed her neck and offered, ¡°Well¡­.that¡¯s a difficult question because my friend, the one who just left, would probably get mad. I can say that Dr. Feldon is wonderful and helps a lot of people.¡±


    I nibbled at my sandwich, but my real focus was on Lily. I inquired, ¡°Is there anything else you can tell me? Like umm¡­what¡¯s the green one¡¯s name? I¡¯m sure she doesn¡¯t like being called ¡®green one¡¯.¡±


    Bunching her hands together, Lily let out a light chuckle. ¡°Actually, she prefers Green or Greenie from random people. If she talks to them at all.¡±


    ¡°But she has a name?¡±


    Her answer was to carefully state, ¡°The nurses mostly call her curse words, for various reasons. I¡¯ve known her for a while¡­.so yeah.¡±


    Though she wasn¡¯t answering directly, she told me enough for me to imply little things. If ¡°Greenie¡± had a lot of contact with the nurses then that suggested she was likely a long-term patient or a regular. They seemed at least lunch buddies to the point that Greenie tolerated Lily.


    I eased off the prying questions to ask her, ¡°You like the food here?¡±


    Her smile brightened and her hair even seemed a bit more radiant as she nodded. ¡°Yes! It¡¯s very good. I mean¡­I know it¡¯s very good and I don¡¯t mind one way or the other but there are foods I really love and I always have them.¡±


    I wanted to write a note about that reaction but I left my pad alone. I followed up, ¡°Like chocolate cake and ice cream?¡±


    She released a bouncy nod. ¡°Mmhmm! I always have it for lunch when they make it. It reminds me of growing up in the Northeast when I was a little kid. My mother made the best cake.¡±


    More little curiosities. I placed a hand to my forehead, as that might kindle my neurons to fire a little faster. I even tried to summon my crystalline ones to do something superhuman, but they¡¯d returned to what seemed like a natural state. I could still cut myself and watch it patch up.


    I wondered about Lily¡¯s slender, non-cake-scooping hand as it rested on the table. I pondered if it was made of Cellular D and how it might respond to a sudden, ¡®accidental¡¯ jab by a fork. Not that it mattered. I only had the faintest idea about how that stuff worked, especially beyond the hour of swift regeneration which Dr. Feldon mentioned.


    Still, I¡¯d seen Greenie sprint faster than I could imagine without panting or perspiring. My hunch told me there was something beyond even medical miracles happening at this place and Lily and Greenie were somehow at the center of it. I reflected carefully on Lily¡¯s answers so far and flipped back a few pages.


    ¡°Lily, I¡¯m interviewing Dr. Feldon for a web article and I agree he¡¯s an amazing man. He even tried out some of his creation, Memetic Crystalline, on me along with something called Cellular D. Incredible stuff but a little scary.¡±


    Her attention was clearly more on capturing whatever dripping remains of her ice cream she could before they became strawberry milk. Still, she looked at me and nodded as I traced over each term. Her eyes, a light brown closer to tea than her beloved dessert, appeared ever so slightly too big for her face, especially when she raised her flashy-red eyebrows with curiosity.


    I urged her, ¡°So, what do you think?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s neat¡±, was all she offered as another scoop of cake vanished into her mouth.


    There came the urge to massage my eyes and drop my head to the table. I knew there had to be some way to get more out of Lily than she intended to say. Still, she was very cautious.


    I paged back to the beginning of my notes and my original instructions. I was skeptical that my article patron had his head outside of his rear on the rumors cited: Old men made into hot girls.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Looking Lily over, she wasn¡¯t unattractive. Far too young for me to be interested. And I definitely wouldn¡¯t refer to her as ¡°hot¡±. Greenie didn¡¯t fit the bill either. Some of the nurses lingering around were more my type but no one I¡¯d raise any eyebrows over. Assuming ¡°hot¡± was just the editor pitching a misleading headline before the article, I had to consider the rest of that statement.


    ¡°Do you have any Memetic Crystalline in you, Lily? If so, what does it feel like for you? I have a sense myself, but I¡¯d love to have someone else¡¯s perspective.¡±


    It was a feeble question. I should¡¯ve been coming up with mind darts to break through her resistance. Instead, I was just spewing out pathetic dead-ends. I added a look of wide-eyed curiosity. It had to count for something in this lousy interview.


    Swirling a sugary soup of cake and ice cream, Lily said, ¡°I don¡¯t really think much about the stuff they use but they use it really well. As for me, I have no problems, especially when I take things day by day with a smile.¡±


    I smiled in reply, but I wanted to groan. I could¡¯ve pressed Lily, but I had the feeling she had the same sort of answer to anything else I might ask. I returned to my sandwich and made that the topic of discussion.


    She admired my chicken sandwich and asked, ¡°Have you ever tried synthetic chicken? I had it once¡­some time ago¡­but I heard it¡¯s come a long way.¡±


    I proofed a story for someone else about that. All about the long-term growth, decay, and rebranding of the synthetic meat industry in the past few decades. From how Lily phrased what she said, I couldn¡¯t help but keep wondering. If I pried for an exact timeline I figured she¡¯d just evade the question or offer something vague. I was just glad she was talking to me and asking me questions.


    ¡°I buy it in bulk and freeze it every few months because it¡¯s cheaper and healthier protein than just about anything else. But I¡¯ll never begrudge the real thing. Had anything special to eat lately? I have no idea what this place serves but this chicken seems decent.¡±


    I timed my question with the arc of Lily¡¯s smile from the final patches of cake and ice cream left behind by the assault of her appetite.


    ¡°I keep to this a lot, especially for lunch. Cake is always a happy memory, especially with something melty.¡±


    Ever more curious. But I didn¡¯t react strongly. I asked, feigning bits of disinterest, ¡°Cake all the time? I¡¯d get bored after a while.¡±


    She gave a little gasp and shook her head as she noted, ¡°But there are so many kinds of cake. I do rotate but just the old favorites. A cycle of happy reminders.¡±


    As she said that, the last of the cake and ice cream entered her mouth and she added, ¡°Sadly, there is an end. But there¡¯s also a next time.¡±


    I nodded but offered, ¡°Unless you go for seconds. If you like, I¡¯ll pay for it.¡±


    Her radiant eyes seemed to sparkle as her spoon clinked around her plate. ¡°I don¡¯t often get seconds but¡­.maybe it doesn¡¯t have to end yet. Maybe¡­¡± As she spoke, a smile bloomed on her face as she lifted her spoon up for a second wave.


    Seconds would give me more time to watch and see if I could figure her out. It wasn¡¯t to be, however, as Greenie dashed back through the door, edged around some people sitting down, and seized Lily¡¯s hand like she had before.


    ¡°We need to go¡­and talk.¡± She didn¡¯t even give a glance back at me.


    Despite Lily dragging her spoon and her soft protestations, Greenie had her with her and out the door. Her last words were, ¡°Seconds¡­¡± before she vanished.


    Vanished but not entirely gone. I heard a little something through the wall to my right. I pressed my head against it and shut my eyes. Muffled voices. Some words like ¡°you¡± and ¡°not¡± but the rest could¡¯ve well been underwater. Still, I sensed the two of them were standing there and talking. I wished for a better ear, but I didn¡¯t pick up anything else before it sounded like they moved away.


    I consigned myself to the company of my sandwich. Lily had left her dish behind. It had to be a pretty decent cake, not that I was much of an expert when it came to them. But it seemed to have a pretty potent effect on her. For only the briefest of moments did I consider licking the leftovers for some sense of what she¡¯d eaten. Too gross and creepy though.


    Instead, I asked for the same cake but told the cafeteria worker, ¡°There¡¯s this redheaded girl I¡¯m with¡­Lily. It¡¯s for her and I don¡¯t know if you have any particular special way you prepare it¡­¡±


    All I had to mention was the hair, name, and cake. They went to work back in the kitchen and soon I had a restored version of Lily¡¯s dessert. From the corner where I was seated, the workers had no way to see me and recognize my lie.


    I sniffed. Didn¡¯t smell weird. I tried a bite with a layer of still-solid ice cream¡­NO! Oh no. Somehow I swallowed it but holy crap.


    Sugar all over the place and extra tartness of the strawberries. I puckered up. It was bearable but so chaotic. I felt like I¡¯d been given granulated sugar and something just short of concentrated citrus. It then occurred to me that it might not be a good idea to eat food specifically prepared for someone else. Still, I had to have a little bit more, just to make sure my first bite wasn¡¯t a mistake.


    Second time, I puzzled over a patch of blandness. Like brown, puffy cardboard or palatable mud with watered-down milk with only the faintest aroma of strawberry. Then it was back on the rollercoaster again taking the flavor back up. Food landmines of vigorous flavor between exaggerated blandness.


    I had to stop as I could feel the exhaustion and slight erosion of my tongue. I drank a lot of water and speculated. There could¡¯ve been anything in that cake. I doubted it was toxic. Rather, I darn well hoped it wasn¡¯t toxic. It could¡¯ve been a potent artificial sweetener or something more experimental which this girl always got. Still, I never saw her lose her delight from this cake. In her place, I would¡¯ve gone through a visible cascade of agony and relief.


    My best guess was that perhaps her nerves were damaged in such a way that scrambled her sense of taste and this was a way of compensating? It was an idle guess, but it was something. I plotted to forge the situation into a question for Feldon whereby I didn¡¯t allude to Lily too much. At the same time, I knew I¡¯d have to ask him about the girls eventually.

 The Girl Who Chases the Wind – Chapter 4: Dreamscape

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 4: Dreamscape


    Not that I expected a clearer answer than what Lily gave me. Plus, he was my host, so I didn¡¯t want to push him so much I got lumped in with those reporters he cited from before. I had to wonder what they were looking for then and which questions pushed his buttons. No snooping for it beyond what my books might offer though. I was outside the 6G halo. Though I suspected the ranch was connected through satellite or other sources, I wasn¡¯t going to use that because I knew it would be very easy to figure out what I accessed on a private line.


    I was on my own. And, despite the chicken sandwich, I was starting to feel tired. Blame my weird sleep cycle. Taking jobs whenever I could according to the endless news grind. Putting together information people could look up for themselves but were too lazy to. Much of the work could be done by bots which synthesized the primary content of several sources and even wrote most articles. But a human still needed to proof a bot for serious work and most sounded too much like bots to hold readers. And they couldn¡¯t do interviews. Glad for that.


    After lunch, I roamed a bit. Little quiet areas made the ranch feel like less of a clinic and more like an extravagant home. I didn¡¯t get the sense of a high-profile, celebrity rehab place. Most of the ranch was conservatively decorated with a focus on the functional. I did a long walk with my camera down an empty hallway leading to the quiet area. It was a pretty sequence but probably not interesting enough for my article patron.


    I passed offices for those who ran the ranch aside from Feldon. I saved their names for future reference. I paused at patient doors but didn¡¯t go in. I found a physical therapy area with a mixture of games, rigorous equipment, and a pathway leading to the outdoor facilities I¡¯d seen earlier. I thought I caught a glimpse of green, but I couldn¡¯t be sure.


    Large sections of the facility were inaccessible due to security card systems. Frustrating.


    When I¡¯d had my fill of snooping around for secrets and it was time to resume the tour, I went where Dr. Feldon told me to meet him. He was taking calls in what I assumed to be his office. It was quaint with nice furniture and a very lovely view of the transplanted forest he¡¯d mentioned before which I hadn¡¯t seen from the parking lot. It was a sharp spill of green over what was otherwise brown. Without saying anything, I snapped what I anticipated was a flattering picture of Feldon finishing his call. Might be useful.


    Once he was done, he offered some small talk about lunch and how I liked the food at the ranch. I framed my little tale like so, ¡°Never much for institutional food places but it¡¯s one of the better ones. Plenty of choices. Met some fascinating people too.¡±


    I left it there, suspecting that Feldon¡¯s curious nature would lead him to ask for me.


    He took it, inquiring, ¡°Ahh¡­who did you meet?¡±


    It took me a moment to consider how I wanted to phrase my answer. Appropriate for the encounter I was about to describe. I couldn¡¯t act too na?ve or too interested.


    Sitting in the chair opposite Feldon, I kept my eyes near his for shifts in his demeanor and told him, ¡°Well, one of them I¡¯d seen earlier and I wasn¡¯t able to get her name either time. The other one just called herself ¡®Lily¡¯. Sweet young lady with shocking red hair and an eager appetite for cake.¡±


    My first move and it was Feldon¡¯s turn. I noticed a light scrunching around his eyes, not quite a frown but the twitch of one before he caught it. He also offered a smile that lingered on his face. Nothing definitive there, but I already had the sense I¡¯d touched upon people he knew.


    He confirmed that he did indeed know them, simple as that, but then elaborated, ¡°You probably won¡¯t get the other¡¯s name. She¡¯s quite private about herself.¡±


    I unfurled the next bit, ¡°I understand. You mentioned doctor-patient confidentiality with some of your cases and I respect that.¡± I wanted to sneak in a question about their hair or conditions, but I resolved to work slowly. I even squinted a bit at my notes to add some authenticity.


    ¡°Yes, I did mention that but even confirming or denying they are current patients is something I am not able to do under that. But in general, you will run into a lot of people who are actual patients here, just having lunch.¡± He then went on to distinguish the attire of medical professionals at the ranch by department and specialty. Blue lab coats seemed the key unifying aspect.


    That was confirmation enough for me that they were something like patients. I wanted to press, but I had to step carefully.


    I dipped my head and told him, ¡°Now I¡¯m even more curious and I wouldn¡¯t be doing due diligence to my readers if I didn¡¯t ask if those two are connected to something more experimental than what you¡¯ve shown me so far¡­.I mean at least why they chose to dye their hair such striking colors. Has to be a story there.¡±


    Feldon clenched his neck. Oh, I may have overdone it with that last bit. I braced myself no matter what.


    He clasped his hands together and intoned, ¡°What I can say about those you met is limited. I apologize for that and I hope you respect that as I respect their privacy¡­as any good doctor or person would. As for their appearance, you¡¯d have to ask them.¡±


    Stonewalled at all points. I¡¯d have to concede this conflict. I made a scribble note on my pad and then returned to, ¡°Understood. As for the rest of today¡¯s tour, I¡¯m ready whenever you are. You mentioned a coma patient and some other surprises?¡±


    Dr. Feldon gave a lengthy, intimidating pause before he pressed his hands on his desk and answered, ¡°Of course. Also, if they¡¯re not too busy today, I¡¯d love to introduce you to someone who does all my worrying for me on a regular basis. And no, not my lawyer or anyone quite like that.¡±


    I had to admit my snap reaction was to imagine a malpractice lawyer. I was vaguely-intrigued but mostly discouraged by Lily and Greenie. But I put on a pleasant face and let Dr. Feldon take me to the first patient in a room past the bend of a long hallway.


    The room itself was impressive, a good deal larger than the ones I¡¯d seen so far. It seemed more like a small apartment than a patient room. In the back of the main room, not far from a blind-covered window with geometries of light shining through, I was introduced to Edgar.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Sprawled on a contoured bed, Edgar¡¯s limbs appeared rigid and at points clenched in painful positions. It reminded me more of ALS or Huntington¡¯s disease than a simple coma. I hoped the doctor wasn¡¯t dumbing it down for me. Edgar¡¯s eyes only cracked open slightly. He seemed to be swallowing and breathing on his own without special equipment. His face, a little scruffy with dark hair like the close-cropped fuzz on his head, had a lean curve like a stretched mask. It was hard to tell if he was trying to smile or scowl.


    Dr. Feldon called out, ¡°Hello, Edgar! I hope this is a good time. I have a guest.¡±


    I narrowed an eyebrow. Couldn¡¯t be a coma patient. It wasn¡¯t till it turned on that I noticed the printed material screen spread across the far wall. At first, everything was blurry. I figured it was either a defect in the projection or it was just warming up.


    With a clenched smile, Dr. Feldon informed me, ¡°Edgar¡¯s mind can be a bit dirty, especially in dreams. So, the computer blurs the naughty bits.¡± I tried not to blush.


    Soon, a grass landscape materialized, sharp and clear as any picture. Only the edges seemed to move and flow like a painting on a light dose of LSD. The image seemed so vivid and real and yet it looked like a doctored visual effect at the same time.


    I had no idea what to make of it before Dr. Feldon explained, ¡°You are seeing what is inside Edgar¡¯s brain.¡± Soon, the landscape shifted to a studio apartment in a skyscraper. Some of the details resembled the room we were standing in, but it was far more extravagant. Some colors and appliances changed at random.


    Before long, a man emerged from around a corner in a maroon suit with a flashy yellow tie. It was Edgar, though he was clean-shaven, taller, and accompanied by a woman in a deep brown professional outfit. Her hair, short and combed, looked stark white in a tone sharper than platinum blond. She was lovely.


    ¡°Dr. Feldon! Hey there! Who¡¯s your guest?¡± The voice was simulated but with easy emotional shifts that made it sound surprisingly natural.


    Folding his hands behind him, Dr. Feldon moved so he could turn and talk to both the bedridden Edgar and the one projected onto the screen. He gestured to me and explained, ¡°A reporter, who is perhaps a bit too nosy at times, but certainly not the scum of the Earth like some I have met.¡±


    I offered up my name and the projected Edgar snapped a finger and cracked a grin as he announced, ¡°I¡¯ve heard of you. Read a bit of your work here and there. But then I read everything¡­.all the time. Keeps me from getting bored and I do get bored. Tell him, Ada.¡±


    ¡®Ada¡¯ stated, ¡°He gets bored.¡± Edgar reiterated, ¡°That I do, though I try my best against boredom. Like so.¡±


    Virtual Edgar spun in place and unleashed a vast, science-fictional landscape with more detail than any digital matte painting or visual effect I¡¯d ever seen. I snapped a picture because I knew I¡¯d never be able to describe it properly. But it appeared alien, industrial, hopeful, alive, and surreal all at the same time. Even more than that, it changed from moment to moment, a true window into another world.


    Gesturing outwards, Edgar and Ada flew through the world and the projection followed him with details only blurring at the edges. It felt like I was watching a recorded dream minus all the confusion and intrusion of the conscious mind to structure and interpret. Only it had all the clarity and lucidity as though some film artist had toiled to make it.


    While I watched, Dr. Feldon whispered to me about the details. Edgar was indeed comatose, but he also had a degenerative condition whose name I didn¡¯t recognize but saved for later research. This combination was the challenge that Dr. Feldon¡¯s efforts had not yet overcome.


    Watching the screen as the industrial areas became a grassland with all the colors wrong and trees which never existed, I asked, ¡°Even Memetic Crystalline can¡¯t repair the nerves?¡±


    Dr. Feldon sighed and softly offered, ¡°It can do so much but human hands must guide it. Edgar¡¯s mind is amazing, it¡¯s beautiful. Yet his family essentially abandoned him to us. They see a broken shell, lost and worthless. Why can¡¯t he get up? Why does he need constant care? We healed the parts which we knew how to heal but his conditions let us only go so far. If we went further, then we would be unraveling the very essence of Edgar. He would no longer exist.¡±


    I drew my lip in and had no words to fill the moment as I watched Edgar and Ada dive and swoop along a floating city of jeweled fortresses wrapped in mists.


    With a sound between a cough and chuckle, Dr. Feldon mentioned, ¡°He¡¯s happier and more voracious and active than I could ever imagine being. I wanted to explore the idea of a synthetic body which the Memetic Crystalline in his brain could take for a walk but he loathed the limitation.¡±


    Ada remarked, with a mid-air turn, her hair twisting around her head, ¡°Why limit yourself to a single body when all of imagination can be your dwelling.¡± She had a point. And I made a note about synthetic bodies.


    I soon learned that Ada and Edgar existed not only as assistant and avatar but as two sides of Edgar¡¯s psyche. He quipped, ¡°Aren¡¯t I a gorgeous lady deep inside?¡± Ada poked him in the shoulder for that. I smiled to myself.


    Edgar provided the visuals to outclass any supposed ¡®blockbuster¡¯ film (though such things were becoming as antiquated as that newsroom in my head) and enough implications for a full-length interview of his own. His home life growing up, as he showed me briefly with stylized coloration, had me curious for more. His family appeared as figments and phantasms.


    Time flew with Edgar as there was so much to see. I was beginning to balance making eye contact with his body while still trying to catch the subtleties of his ideal forms. Before long, we had to move on but we departed with promises that I would stop by tomorrow for a longer session.


    Even after exiting the room, my mind was full of islands on the high seas and dancing rows of sunflowers in a living painting as impossible shorelines crept by with the slow admiration of a stroll. Absent from my thoughts were the cake-lover and the sprinter.


    Dr. Feldon chuckled to himself and noted, ¡°I knew you¡¯d enjoy him. Like a living dream. A human mind laid bare. Well, part of it.¡±

 The Girl Who Chases the Wind – Chapter 5: Surprise

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 5: Surprise


    I raised an eyebrow at that and questioned what he meant.


    He elaborated, ¡°You only saw part of Edgar¡¯s brain. Of course, as I mentioned, he can have a dirty mind. So, we tend to edit that out with a delay. He¡¯s been good about keeping¡­such material to different channels of thought. But he can have several channels going all at once. I suspect he had around twenty then¡­low for him, but he had to pay attention to us for the entire time. Some entertainment for him and some socialization therapy.¡±


    I could barely imagine holding twenty thoughts at once, but then he didn¡¯t have a lot else to do with his time. Apparently, most were flashes of images and sound with other senses untranslatable and with less coherence than an old music video.


    It took me as long as halfway to the next patient to inquire, ¡°Could any brain be hooked up that way?¡± I recalled wires leading off the side of Edgar¡¯s head, but I hadn¡¯t figured to ask if they were connected to his brain like a sub-cranial EEG. Seemed crude and what I¡¯d seen so far was anything but.


    Dr. Feldon had a decent poker face but I caught, a moment before he presented it to me, a flash of pride in something I could only guess at. Folding his arms, he said, ¡°Edgar¡¯s brain has a modest and carefully-managed amount of Memetic Crystalline in place of damaged tissues. Now you know how good it is at storing information. It also provides a conduit for that information. So, your answer is¡­potentially¡­¡±


    He relaxed his hands and brushed his legs. ¡°I work by individual cases. I can tell you Edgar can be hooked up to a projector and communicate with us. Someone comes in tomorrow maybe it doesn¡¯t work for them with the same approach. Even you could potentially put out a little signal with your amount of Crystalline. It would be a shadow of pixels in black and white, but I¡¯d bet it could be done.¡±


    Instinctively, I touched my neck. By now the flesh was likely as normal as the rest of my body but, underneath, my nerves had been replaced by a manmade substance. For the rest of the way, Feldon entertained me with a snippet of information I already knew regarding how Memetic Crystalline overcame the body¡¯s immune response. The answer came back to an analogue protein researched in the regulation of early brain growth and pruning. Basically, MC was able to look like any normal cells to the brain¡¯s distinct immune system and almost as well to the rest of the immune system. I flattered him with a few nods and a smile as we made our way to the next patient. The surprise.


    She was a small, Filipino woman named Angela. Her short hair with fluffy patches told me she¡¯d had brain surgery not too long ago. She showed off a pretty wig of her own hair. Dr. Feldon greeted her in a language I didn¡¯t know and spoke a few, quick sentences. She smiled back and answered him in what I assumed was the same language.


    Angela eagerly gave her consent to photos and video as well as videos the ranch had on file. Together, we watched when she first arrived. I noted the date was just four months ago. She was seated in a wheelchair with an expressionless face and regular tremors. Dr. Feldon classified her with a disease similar to Parkinson''s with a rapid onset. Some video within the video showed her several years previous when she could still talk.


    Methodically, we worked through the videos as Angela drastically improved. I winced at the full surgeries into the depths of her brain with a version of the anteater probe which slipped into my body. At times, the MC looked more like glittering foam or paste spread around.


    Things got a bit complicated when the videos and Dr. Feldon explained that some of the inserts were done in a part of the midbrain I barely knew the name of. However, most of her surgical inserts were done across the motor section of the brain and into parts that seemed entirely unrelated. It sounded excessive, more like spreading around Memetic Crystalline to see what it might do instead of a precise procedure. Nothing Feldon said quit me from this notion. But the results were sitting in front of me and smiling.


    I did notice the greatest improvements came with the least logical surgeries along with tweaking dopamine production in the remaining sections of the brain. Angela went from needing two people to carry her as she twitched her feet to just using a cane to push off the chair before doing a full lap of the room. The difference in just one week of surgery and treatment. A lot of the technical stuff still went over my head, but that image was striking. I made a mental note to later ask if I could have a copy of that clip.


    That wasn¡¯t to say Angela was cured instantly. She still had the cane nearby and she mentioned tremors that hit her from time to time. Despite all her surgeries, it seemed like she would probably need even more for a permanent solution.


    Offhand, I inquired of Dr. Feldon, ¡°You can¡¯t replace the whole brain with that stuff, right?¡±


    Turning from Angela¡¯s chart, he gave me a calm look before asking, ¡°I can¡¯t? Who¡¯s to say? Memetic Crystalline is as much if not more plastic than actual brain tissue. And just think of the wonders of what that can do. I recall this one case decades ago of a man whose brain, over a span of thirty years, was reduced by more than two-thirds with nothing but fluid in the middle. He lived a completely normal life.¡±


    It was an interesting story, but it also evaded my question. I tried, ¡°So¡­you think that about two-thirds Memetic Crystalline would be the limit for replacement?¡±


    Dr. Feldon shrugged. ¡°I am just a doctor. I¡¯m not here to tell my patients what their bodies are capable of. I¡¯m only here to enable the best healing possible.¡± A refreshing notion and another evasion. I let it go for the moment.


    I stayed as he took Angela over to a nearby room for a brain scan and some other testing to document her progress. It was tedious and methodical, but showed me that the ranch had state-of-the-art diagnostic equipment.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Furthermore, I marveled and took a few pictures of the maps of Angela¡¯s brain with conspicuous gemstones of MC in place of massive networks of nerves. To my eye, the visuals were unsettling, probably as much as seeing cavernous holes where tissue should¡¯ve been. But the owner of that brain was relaxing and joking with the technicians as they positioned her for each scan. Dr. Feldon completed a physical workup before she left.


    It was getting into the afternoon by the time he was done. Following a few phone calls, I learned that the pediatric cases would have to wait for tomorrow as well as the person who ¡°worried¡± for him. But Feldon apparently had one more tour for me.


    We left the ranch and clinic behind and walked along a covered footpath. To my right, I could see all the outdoor sports facilities just beyond the edge of the main building. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I caught a glimpse of brilliant green before the wind kicked up and made me shield my face.


    The small, rather unassuming building we entered at the end of the footpath turned out to be the primary fabrication area. It was broken down into zones where different things were made. The first area dealt with biomechanical prosthetics, artificial legs integrating bits of muscle and realistic flesh. A lot of computers and bioprinters too.


    The next area dealt with entire organ printing as well as legs floating in a pink preservative, oxygenated soup. Someone was having one fitted with a link of Memetic Crystalline to bridge the nerves. I watched them take awkward but tearful steps.


    At the end of the facility, after the point where I had to put on a full biosuit (to prevent purity contamination), was where they manufactured and manipulated Memetic Crystalline. The process, once accidental, was replicated countless times over with vacuum-suspended globs swelling like fermenting, alien dough.


    I witnessed discarded MC which didn¡¯t meet the standards twist and curl and diminish like another alien wracked with its final death throes. It didn¡¯t exactly throw me off my fears of an eternally-swelling mass of crystal nano poop, but it was fun to watch.


    By this time, my feet were aching and Dr. Feldon had his evening checkups to do. He reiterated the rain checks and promised me unnamed but countless wonders for the next day as I returned to the same cafeteria for veggie pasta, chicken salad, and cheese scones. Neither Lily nor Greenie made an appearance.


    I let my stomach gurgle a bit as I stalked near the areas which required key cards. I let evening slip around me before I returned to my car for the rest of my bags. A helpful lady in blue led me to my sleeping accommodations along a footpath which nearly took me to the forest.


    Arranged in a circle like single-story dormitories, I was led to one of the smaller ones with a few lights on already. The interior felt like some sort of arctic base trying to appear as cozy as a B&B with a little sign-in book by the door. A common area offered a TV almost as nice as Edgar¡¯s projection and access to a garden area with vegetables of all colors, though muted by dusk.


    I didn¡¯t know if any of the other rooms were occupied but the book was empty of names. I declined a wake up time as the helpful lady left me to my room. I lingered on the book though and decided, with a smirk, to write the name, ¡°Logan Harper¡± with a swooping but restrained bit of cursive.


    My room, marked simply, ¡°D416¡± was a corner room with no others adjacent to it. I liked that. The inside felt homey but more foreign than a typical hotel room. I set my bags down and cracked my neck a few times. A couch just off the small kitchen let me spread out easier than any couch I¡¯d ever owned. I inspected the shower/tub combo and approved of the detachable wand head.


    All that settled, I opened up my heaviest bag and unzipped the inner compartment. I picked out my flashlight and RF detector. I still had my old, empty toilet paper roll stuffed in there too. It was time to sweep.


    I did a physical check of the rooms. I picked up everything on the tables. I tapped the tables for hollow spots. I ran my hands over the wall to feel for printed recorders. Then, with the lights shut off and the blinds closed, I used the tube and the flashlight to look for the shimmer of microcameras or the glint of little holes. Lastly, I ran the RF meter over everything just to be sure.


    Just a normal evening in a strange place. I flexed my arms, double-locked the front door, and looked into the bathroom mirror. I¡¯d felt around behind it and inspected whether it was just a disguised projector. I stared into the mirror.


    My dark, short hair flopped around with curls of sweat from wearing that heavy biosuit. Fortunately, like with the neck procedure, I hadn¡¯t needed to undress. I scratched at the close-buzzed fringe of hair around my head and stroked my smooth cheeks.


    Flexing my shoulders, I undid my blue tie and slipped off my gray suit jacket. Its hidden shoulder pads and thick middle slumped on the door hook. My pants, with similar but different padding, came next. My shoes, with their disguised lifts, followed along with the rest of my clothes. After all the rest, I faced the mirror, naked but for the flattening bra still on my chest. I unhooked it and glanced away from my chest with clenched lips and a sigh.


    My bath was nice, even without anything special to put in it. I dressed in sleeping clothes which didn¡¯t give too much away. The top diminished what was already pleasantly insubstantial at my chest and the pants offered the illusion of something manly down below.


    Settling into bed, sleep waited as I reviewed what I¡¯d gathered from the day. I had plenty for two-thousand words already. Actually, keeping around that amount would¡¯ve been a great disservice. My patron would get their article, but I had bigger things in mind already.


    And the one thing I kept returning to through all my reflections was the nameless Greenie. A mystery I was eager to figure out. At one point, I named her ¡°the wind¡± for how she ran.


    Well, if she is the wind then I am the girl who chases the wind.

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 6: The Wind

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 6: The Wind


    The girl who chases the wind¡­ I snorted. It might be worth keeping as a clever book title, even though it would never see the light of day. Too bold.


    After all, I am Logan Harper so far as anyone could or should be concerned. It feels good to be Logan Harper. It feels relaxing to stride into the men¡¯s with a reporter¡¯s confident step and then find a toilet that hasn¡¯t been demolished or violated by ass ghosts. I¡¯ve had random, silvery little hairs on my face I¡¯ve tried to cultivate. They barely approach peach fuzz. I¡¯d have better luck farming rocks. I don¡¯t hate my face, but I can never look myself in the eye.


    I wondered if the girls and Dr. Feldon had secrets like mine. If they did, then I would do my best to find them. Not for my patron, someone at a major publication who seemed to believe the phrase ¡°hot girls¡± had any place in journalism, but for my own reasons.


    As I read through my notes, I typed a clean cheat sheet onto one of my devices. That took about the last ounce of my energy as I finally put things away and turned off all the lights.


    In the dark of the room, I froze for a second. It was too dark and too quiet. Not that I suspected anything, but my place always had something going. Whether it was the convenience of leaving some of my devices running overnight or an air fan or noises from insomniac neighbors or cars in an even pace on the street. All the little things helped me settle.


    Even when traveling, the sounds of hotel rooms nudged me into sleep. It felt like there was nothing around me. Even jumping up to look out the window showed a dark patch away from all but the faintest spill of outdoor lighting I assumed came from other parts of the complex.


    I considered setting up a camera overnight as one last security measure. I could even aim the smaller one out the window to see if anyone peered in and aim the other at the door. But I wasn¡¯t quite that paranoid. And they would be useless for second day interviews because of hours of wasted memory and batteries. And mine were vintage, from before bacterial chips and carbon nanoballs made it pointless to actually erase anything from storage. And they still paled beside Memetic Crystalline.


    I gave the same finger I¡¯d touched the inert sample with a quick rub as I tried to get some rest. Still, my mind flashed with little thoughts and notions. My patron¡¯s comment was ¡°old men into hot girls¡±. In my head, I considered two possibilities. First, was a literal reading which ignored the fact my patron sounded like an out-of-breath caveman. So perhaps¡­old men like Dr. Feldon or other old guys at the ranch taking advantage of young women. I could imagine some other reporter looking at Lily and Greenie and imagining creepier secrets than their careful and bitter words suggested.


    And the second possibility was that my patron just left out the words ¡°turned/changed/transformed¡±. A couple generations ago such a statement would¡¯ve been thoroughly absurd. But this was an age of Mantlemay. For the right price, any cosmetic fix was possible with advanced stem cell treatments and surgery. I knew full well that any sort of female cell could be prodded into a male one with enough money. And vice versa. The tabloid services were full of one-quarter actual cases among the rich and famous and three-quarters speculation about them.


    So yeah, I could easily believe the second possibility. And I could hope that it wasn¡¯t just science fiction.


    My thoughts wound down but not far enough to let me flick the switch between waking and dreams. I parsed the word ¡°Memetic¡± as a distraction. From Dawkin¡¯s proposal of ideas like genes, it was a poor name for a nearly-universal solvent/preservative of matter. Or was it fitting? It came from Ancient Greek meaning ¡°imitator¡± or ¡°pretender¡±. I gave a sympathetic smirk.


    It didn¡¯t really matter. If there was one thing universal to language, it was the perversion of words over the centuries of human use. With the image of people throughout history kicking the crap out of words, I finally managed to blink into the abyss of dreams.


    My dreams often fall into a few categories. First, those where I¡¯m chasing something or being chased. Typically they¡¯re far less exciting than that description. I¡¯m in pursuit of some inane object and I get somewhere, only to realize I have several steps to get to the object I didn¡¯t even know about and those steps each have their own delay. When being pursued it¡¯s a gradual freefall of falling behind despite the urgency. A lion might be eating me, but I¡¯m still stuck searching for an old file folder.


    Second, there are the dreams which would make good stories if I had any interest in writing them. They have the cinematic scope of an Edgar vision and some cleverness of structure. Like a leak from another universe where another me just happens to be watching a movie that never got made on this side.


    Thirdly, there are dreams which exist as one-off notions. Usually these are little car accidents of sensation which jar and disturb me from slumber for an evening. Little meteorites streaking through my skull.


    Last, there are the dreams I never talk about. Not in any of my articles when there needs to be some element of Logan Harper to convince my readers I¡¯m not an advanced bot. Not anywhere and not to anyone. Not even my therapist, though I should.


    As I switched off, I carried a faint feeling it wouldn¡¯t be one of those dreams tonight. Then, I switched back on a bit, back and forth as night settled deeper into the room and little rustles of sound by my window made me hope it was just a deadly critter and not someone trying to spy on me. I came back and went several times more before it seemed bright enough for a fledgling morning.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    I busied myself with morning stretches and fiddling with the television for longer than I expected. I did a little early composition of my recordings. I could¡¯ve cropped a few things down but I wondered if there might be clues to things I couldn¡¯t even imagine yet caught at the margins of my footage.


    After the morning routine, I slipped on an outfit like the one from yesterday. I watched my presence transform from who I was before to the full Logan Harper. I gave myself a smirk and quickly caught my eyes.


    With my bag set for the day, I left with my cheat sheet out in the open and plenty of time for questions. The hallway was as vacant as I¡¯d found it the evening before. I scribbled a note not to clean my room and left a little piece of tape between the door and the frame to make sure my request would be honored.


    On the way out, I walked around the building and checked the window. I placed a piece of tape there as well to cover both sides. If there was another entrance then I was probably already being watched by someone at the ranch. Hopefully, all my precautions would be for naught, but I¡¯d done enough stories to know I had to protect myself and my secrets when I was in an unfamiliar place.


    As an extra measure, I walked around to the other windows. The dorm rooms were pristine with all the lights off. I didn¡¯t see anyone until I got closer to the ranch and found some people working in the manufacturing lab I¡¯d been shown. A few regular blue coats passed by me as well. Instead of heading for the main building immediately, I took a little detour to the side to investigate the facilities I hadn¡¯t seen. I kept my bleary eyes wide for a sudden spot of green.


    Most of it looked like a transplanted park with hard courts, cool waters, and some indoor courts and gyms. I caught the shadows of people milling about but avoided them. I made my way to the clay oval. As I had hoped, she was there.


    The wind. And she was already blowing fiercely.


    She had on a mellow green, sleeveless singlet which met a snug pair of matching shorts and the same shoes from yesterday. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she was taking the far end of the oval at high speed. I lingered a ways off and considered snapping a few photos. Instead, I watched her as she came closer around the loop. I didn¡¯t call attention to myself, but I also didn¡¯t make an effort to hide. She blasted past where I was standing with a displaced sheet of air cascading over me. I knew she¡¯d seen me.


    I stepped closer and tested my shoes on the track. No way I might keep pace with her, so I strolled along the edge of the track and started to make a slow loop. I didn¡¯t acknowledge Greenie either. She slipped to the inside track as she came around me again. This time, I thought I caught a grimace before she was out of sight. I didn¡¯t make much progress for each of her laps, but I did get a better look at her run. It was bold and effortless, like she was sprinting every step of the way. Only she didn¡¯t show the signs of fatigue that any human runner should¡¯ve. Heck, it wasn¡¯t saying much but, even I was breathing a bit from my decent walk.


    When I¡¯d gotten about a quarter of the way around the track, she passed me with a relaxed yell, ¡°Hipster!¡±


    That was all I received for that round, but it wasn¡¯t long before she came around again and added, ¡°Moron!¡± I stopped and brushed at my lip. Pondering, I started to walk again.


    When she came into shouting distance, I had several things I could¡¯ve shouted to her. They ranged from some stuff which would¡¯ve made the old ladies at grandmother¡¯s rest home gasp and look up from their sensory-activation visors to stuff that would¡¯ve gotten a groan from a five-year-old. The moment came and it was a toss-up between ¡°old man¡± and ¡°little twerp¡±. But, as I opened my mouth, I said one word starkly against the oncoming current of air.


    ¡°AFRAID!¡±


    At first, there was no reaction as she pounded her feet against the clay, threading the pale lines of her track. Then, she pulled up with her hands clenched into fists at her hips. She glanced back and I took the moment to ask, ¡°What are you running from?¡±


    But that was all she gave me before she took off again. She seemed to be going even faster this time, so fast I could only marvel in shock as she was around and almost in front of me again. A rush of air seemed to be all she wanted to say. Then, she tripped.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what caught her but there seemed to be a moment when her gaze flicked back to me and that was enough. One leg tried to sail ahead too fast and the other overcompensated. Before long, she was tumbling and rolling at high speed past the clay and onto the center cement.


    My eyes widened as I saw her legs twist and bend under her and then tear like pieces of fleshy taffy. I put a hand to my mouth and hustled to meet her. She lay there cursing to herself with the wrecked pile of her legs underneath. Her shorts had a narrow rip and her ankle had a deep gouge.


    I should¡¯ve been seeing little squirts of blood where she¡¯d been injured, oozing at least. But the inside of her leg looked more like doll plastic than human flesh.


    Gritting her teeth, she turned and pressed against the ground with her palms. Her face flexed in a mix of rage and determination, but hands alone couldn¡¯t lift her from the ground with her legs mangled like that.

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 7: Broken

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 7: Broken


    I moved closer and touched her with my open hand. She immediately batted it away, which sent her sprawling on her back. She still didn¡¯t pant in pain or exertion. Clawing at the cement gave way to falling arms slapping the ground.


    ¡°Do you want me to get someone to help¡­.Greenie?¡±


    She looked at me from the ground like she wanted to throttle me right there. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was because of the name I¡¯d used or the question itself.


    Shifting to her side (and away from me), she reached into her pocket and pulled out a little device, small, plain, and white. She gave it a heavy squeeze and held it up to her mouth. Through a speaker hidden on the device, a young woman¡¯s voice spoke in a soft, slightly-muffled tone.


    ¡°Again?¡±


    She answered, ¡°Again. Legs. Usual place.¡±


    The voice from the device repeated ¡°Again¡± with a trailing sense of annoyance before saying, ¡°Sit tight. I¡¯ll be there soon.¡±


    ¡°How soon?¡± Greenie clung to the device and nearly pressed it to her mouth. ¡°I need help.¡±


    A faint chuckle came. ¡°I know that, but you just sit tight. You¡¯re not going anywhere, and I will be there¡­.in due time.¡±


    Greenie cursed and smacked the device against the ground before letting go of it. It clicked off. She remained turned away from me. Carefully, I stepped closer and crouched before her. I put out my hand and turned her words around to say, ¡°You need help¡­¡±


    She turned her head, so her cheek was on the ground. She answered, ¡°I sit tight¡­and wait.¡± I settled down next to her with my legs underneath me, set my bag down, and told her, ¡°So will I. To make sure you¡¯re alright and won¡¯t go into shock or anything.¡±


    Pressing her words through her teeth like the beginnings of a curse, she spat out onto the ground, ¡°I¡¯m fine. It doesn¡¯t matter. Just¡­inconvenient.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. More than I expected she would say to me. I asked, keeping my tone as one asking any normal, injured person, ¡°There¡¯s no pain or discomfort?¡±


    She strained the twisted, torn leg curled out nearest to me as though she intended to bat me with her limp, floppy foot. Roughly, she answered, ¡°No. No pain or anything.¡± Her leg twitched one more quivering spasm like a land-deserted fish flailing its last.


    I believed her. Her expression when she fell was more of annoyance or frustration than pain. I folded my arms and glanced around. No one nearby yet. I put out my hand again and said, ¡°I¡¯m willing to help¡­¡±


    She spared no time in shooting it down. ¡°I don¡¯t need it.¡± She scooted herself further away by undulating her legs and body. Her broken legs flapped grotesquely behind her.


    This was my opportunity, but I had to measure my words carefully. I persisted with my hand, bringing it over so I knew Greenie saw it outstretched for her arm. I told her, ¡°Everyone needs help sometimes. Would you rather crawl on the ground or be helped to your feet?¡±


    She sunk her face even deeper into the dust-spattered pavement. ¡°That¡¯s not a choice. I can¡¯t stand up on these.¡±


    I let out a puff of air and tried to think. I asked, ¡°How do the nurses usually take you back?¡±


    The dust didn¡¯t seem to bother her as she pressed her face right up to it and resisted sneezing. Her voice barely carried, but I was still able to hear it.


    ¡°Never in a wheelchair.¡±


    The word ¡°wheelchair¡± mashed in her throat like venom gurgling out. I pondered this and offered, ¡°I can piggyback you¡­and I know a fireman¡¯s carry. Do the nurses use that?¡± She was smaller than me and I assumed her weight wouldn¡¯t be too much with how she was able to run.


    ¡°I don¡¯t NEED YOU! And they don¡¯t haul me around like a baby! I get into a special thing so I can lift and move BY MYSELF!¡± She didn¡¯t give more description than that and she looked thoroughly finished with any and all chat.


    I wasn¡¯t about to give up there. I settled down and stretched back as much as was comfortable as I said, ¡°So, you run until you break, and then you do it again. Why? Seems pointless.¡±


    She mashed her fist so hard against the pavement that I thought for a moment she¡¯d managed to bust that too. I looked away. A wind from the hills traced over the two of us. It didn¡¯t carry the dry starkness of the valley with its sandy flats. I thought I sensed a trace of Feldon¡¯s little transplanted wood in the aroma.


    I asked, ¡°Do you ever run in the hills or just here?¡±


    ¡°Will you ever shut up?¡± Her voice moved with muffled agitation.


    I gave a little snort. ¡°Just making sure you¡¯re still conscious, no concussion or anything like that.¡±


    She gave the faintest of private growls as she told me, ¡°I¡¯m conscious. I¡¯m fine. I didn¡¯t get hurt.¡±


    I put a hand on her shoulder, which she immediately shook off. ¡°You¡¯re hardly one to know. You could be completely delirious.¡±


    ¡°I never get hurt, dammit! So, leave me alone!¡±


    No mistaking her words even as she projected them into the ground. I celebrated this new tidbit of information as I held my poker face and sighed with the words, ¡°Suit yourself. But I can sit wherever I like and I¡¯m still sitting here. And I¡¯m not going until a nurse arrives.¡±


    Edging her face from the ground, she only glanced back at me a moment. Time and the soft wind spiraled around us both. The nurses were still nowhere to be seen. Greenie¡¯s frustration continued to swell as she made wordless noises and grunts to no one in particular to demonstrate her displeasure.


    Eventually, it seemed that even I was an option. She wiggled on the ground and said, ¡°There¡¯s a bench around here.¡±


    Setting my palm aside my cheek, I asked, ¡°Oh? Is that so?¡±


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°Yes. Not far from the main¡­path. West a bit. See it?¡±


    I glanced up and it didn¡¯t take long to find the bench she meant. I affirmed her question. Her next words sheltered in waves of grumbles before she told/warned me, ¡°I¡¯ll grab your back. And I might strangle you by the throat. Do you risk it?¡±


    With a quick shrug, I told her, ¡°If that¡¯s what I need to do then¡­so be it.¡± I brought my arm down again and this time she clutched it roughly. It felt like she was trying to yank my shoulder out. Her fingers, though her nails seemed short, dug like sharpened pins into my flesh.


    Fortunately, she was light, lighter than I expected for someone with her size and shape. So that meant synthetic products were likely lighter than a human equivalent. It also made sense with the way her body caved like plastic. I couldn¡¯t remember if Memetic Crystalline was lighter than a biological equivalent. Something to ask Feldon.


    I bent but didn¡¯t tumble as she dragged herself onto my shoulder and seized me by the neck. Despite her threat, she assaulted my shoulders more than my neck. I reached back to hold her thighs above where the damage had been done. She nearly crunched my hips like a pair of pliers. It only occurred to me then that she might feel the real me through the scant layers of my clothing.


    I made certain her arms didn¡¯t slip down to my chest where she might find what I had buried below. Fortunately, I always had mannish hips so that wouldn¡¯t be too much of a clue. I steadied myself and tried to position her strategically.


    She sharply chided me, ¡°Get on with it! Don¡¯t feel me up!¡±


    I would¡¯ve laughed if she didn¡¯t have her hands so near my throat. She still wasn¡¯t my type and what she had so far as breasts or figure barely beat out my own. Before she got the idea to kick me like a horse, I started walking in the direction of the bench. It wasn¡¯t far, but holding the comparable weight of a large child definitely slowed me down.


    As I walked, she finally held her tongue. Her broken legs hung twisted backwards and torn out of shape.


    I wanted to be cool, all strong and resilient but each step was like hauling several times my usual equipment and with the worst positioning possible. My arms burned and my back felt like it was being pressed in a vice. I didn¡¯t feel like talking either. Still, words slipped out of my mouth.


    ¡°Just¡­keep¡­going¡­one¡­more¡­step.¡± I didn¡¯t mean anything by the words. I said them softly, to myself, but still spoken. I kept them as a mantra. It really hurt, not enough that I worried I might injure myself but enough that I wished I was doing anything else in the world at that moment. Greenie leaned forward and clung to me tightly with her legs. This helped a little and I appreciated it.


    Just when I felt I couldn¡¯t go any further, we were finally at the bench. I backed up and lowered her onto it. With the weight gone, I heaved a sigh of relief. I¡¯d left my bag behind, but I was fine with it waiting for later. I sat on the same bench a respectable distance from Greenie.


    She used her hands to steady her with her useless legs dangling and leaning askew on the ground. Glancing over at me for a quick moment, she muttered, ¡°Thanks.¡±


    The breeze kicked up and pushed her hair over her face. She turned to brush it back and said no more. I leaned back on the bench and sighed. I could¡¯ve asked a question, one of the more prying questions, and perhaps gotten something closer to a response.


    I had a question in mind. It wasn¡¯t one delving into mysteries of synthetic body parts or determinations of gender. It was just a simple one.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    She didn¡¯t react at first. She just looked forward and tried to fix her hair a few times. When she did respond, she curled her lips slightly and repeated from before, ¡°I¡¯m fine. It doesn¡¯t hurt.¡±


    Actually, she said before that she never got hurt. I could¡¯ve inquired further about that, but I stuck to my question and clarified, ¡°I know that. It¡¯s just¡­how hard you run. How much you push yourself. All that. Are you okay?¡±


    From the opening a ways away, I could see a young woman in a blue outfit walking towards us with something silver with lots of straps and a few wheels trailing behind her. The nurse to take Greenie away. I pointed her out. Greenie didn¡¯t look over, she just whispered, ¡°I¡¯m still here. After everything, that¡¯s all I can say.¡±


    It didn¡¯t sound like she said that intending to be vague like before or like Lily and Feldon. Also, the way she said it. It began with resignation. She was still here. Still alive? After a long life? I could only assume.


    I felt a bit of relief she didn¡¯t have questions for me, didn¡¯t accidentally feel the shape of my body under my layers of protection. Or, if she had, she didn¡¯t show it. Still, I watched her eyes for some trace of suspicion.


    The nurse was close enough to wave and shout above the breeze, ¡°Hey, Greenie! Who¡¯s your pal?¡± I leaned away and brushed at my knee.


    Pushing with her knuckles into the bench, Greenie glanced at me and told the nurse, ¡°Hogan? I wasn¡¯t listening¡­¡±


    I gave her the usual name. The nurse remarked, ¡°Dr. Feldon told me you¡¯d be around. I¡¯m Kathryn. And you¡­I have a three-year-old at home, but you take the cake for breaking things.¡±


    Greenie wore a sour expression. She directed it to the clay ground and muttered, ¡°Too easy to break.¡±


    Setting the wheeled contraption with straps nearby, Kathryn remarked, ¡°That so? All this time we¡¯ve put simulated legs through their paces. All the people¡­who¡¯ve gotten legs with less to them than yours and they don¡¯t go blowing them to pieces. And if only it were just that.¡±


    Greenie retorted simply, ¡°What I do is my own business.¡±

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 8: The Darkest Places

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 8: The Darkest Places


    Kathryn said a few things under her breath but set up the contraption quickly and asked, ¡°Can you get on okay? I¡¯ve already scheduled a fabrication session. They¡¯re getting tired of your hijinks as well.¡±


    Flexing her arms, Greenie tossed herself in one powerful heave onto the contraption. The straps sealed around her body, creating a bottom like a knitted chair with support for her broken legs. Slipping her hands through a part of the device, she was able to control the legs to turn herself around. Brushing her fingers over another part rolled the wheels forward.


    I offered quickly, ¡°See you around¡­I guess. Thanks for your time.¡± I could¡¯ve said it better, but I still wondered how Greenie saw me. She was talking to me, but it was clear she wasn¡¯t anywhere near trusting me. Then, she turned slightly and offered me a little surprise.


    ¡°Sometimes, when I let them, they call me Mari. If we see each other again, use that name. I¡¯ve always thought Greenie was a stupid name anyway. Like some cartoon candy mascot.¡± With that, she rolled along the track and away from me with the nurse following beside her. Not long after that, they were out of sight.


    I stayed a while after as the wind picked up a few times. Mari. Perhaps not her given name but one she had chosen for herself, like mine. I felt like the name had some meaning I should¡¯ve recognized with all the books I randomly leafed through. I hadn¡¯t thought to bring a baby name book. I¡¯d probably have to make the sacrifice of a public local online search.


    I made my way back after picking up my bag. The wind was lighter when I left the track. Appropriate. I ate a bloated, nearly-bursting burrito with a full breakfast stuffed in it at the cafeteria before seeking out the men''s, which was fortunately vacant.


    I put in a call to Dr. Feldon¡¯s receptionist before venturing over to his office. I soon found out he was already in.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t leave last night. He¡¯s been busy. Plenty busy.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, though it was pointless over the phone. I could¡¯ve walked a little further and been able to converse with the receptionist face to face but the phone did offer a little mystery about her expression.


    I noted, ¡°If he needs to postpone time with me¡­I¡¯m willing to wait.¡±


    Her voice vanished from the phone and she eventually put me on hold. Hold, rather quaint, especially with voice bots. Instead, I was treated to the bane of some random classical music I¡¯d never be able to correctly name without looking up. Sliding the call to the side, I checked to see if any of the many resources I¡¯d loaded onto my phone¡¯s memory for connection-free times had anything on Mari.


    I hit upon a few random encyclopedia entries. Some famous people, some old movies, some referrals back to some other names. I focused on the meaning of ¡°beloved¡± along with it as a diminutive of Marie meaning ¡°bitter¡± (that one got a smirk from me). I also noticed there was a Basque goddess with the name.


    My limited on-phone data said she was a goddess of the weather who associated with another god which was some sort of snake made of fire. Or which made fire. Mythology can be weird. She was seen as a being of red flame. Seemed like it would be more appropriate for Lily.


    However, her article did characterize her like the wind quite a lot and there was a note about her being a figure of the androgynous who brought together male and female aspects in equal quantity.


    Probably reading too much into it all but it killed some time before the receptionist got back to me. Dr. Feldon would apparently see me but their tone suggested that he wasn¡¯t in the best of moods.


    I approached his door with apprehension and knocked softly four times before he called me in. Even through the door, I could tell his voice, with the roughness of ice usually, had been muffled to tracks in the snow.


    His desk was layered with mostly handwritten papers in orderly lines like scales on a fish. I took my seat across from him and began with a respectful nod and patient pause allowing him to speak first.


    His gaze wore something different than the day before. I wondered and hoped as I tried to show as little nervousness as possible.


    In his own time, he began, ¡°Elisabet Salo. She was so young. Santavuori disease. She was supposed to be flown in from Helsinki last night for special treatment. Her parents finally approved, after years of denial¡­but too late.¡±


    I scooted up in my chair and responded, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I could¡¯ve said more, I could¡¯ve led into another question. But those two words seemed both insubstantial and enough for the moment.


    Dr. Feldon selected, seemingly at random, a paper from his desk as he asked, ¡°Are you? Why? You didn¡¯t give little Elisabet her disease. It was a combination of genes she inherited. Very rare combination. Only a dozen or two like her in the world. Her brain cells accumulated enzymes and lipids usually seen in cirrhotic livers and with old age. At age one they thought she had a¡­mental retardation but soon she had seizures and tremors. She never had a childhood. Just a series of doctors and people who came to take care of her.¡±


    I folded my hands in my lap. I could say plenty about my own life, but I had no words in that moment.


    He continued, ¡°Her parents learned about us from a doctor in Finland. And they did some research. And they found articles about us¡­.articles written by those who, if I were a different sort of man, I would gladly have punched in the face. As I am, I have spent so much time trying to speak to people past the filter of what they may think and write about me...only for the chance to save more lives. It is exhausting.¡±


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    His eyes returned to the piles of papers on his desk. My eyes drifted around him as I told him, ¡°Those aren¡¯t the kinds of articles I want to write.¡±


    Feldon spread a hand across the edge of his desk as he asked me, ¡°But is it the kind of article you are writing about me?¡±


    I fussed a little with my notes and offered sincerely, ¡°I don¡¯t know yet. I¡¯ve just known you for one day. I have seen some amazing things and met some remarkable people. All I know for certain is that I want to see more.¡±


    He pushed some papers away and out of their neat little piles as he told me, ¡°Of course. And I thank you for your open mind. Oh! One thing I forgot¡­¡±


    Drawing a paper from underneath some others, Feldon produced a single form which he pushed to the edge of his table with a pen. He explained simply, ¡°Something I forgot from your little procedure before.¡± His attention was on the piles of papers on his desk. I noticed.


    I picked up the form and read it quietly. The top was littered with the small-font legal language of the worst online agreements. It didn¡¯t even have divided sections or line-breaks. My eyes soon settled on one part in particular and I recited it for Feldon, ¡°The patient agrees to waive all rights of possession to tissue samples taken in the course of the procedure for any and all purposes the undersigned organization decides to undertake with the sample, be they experimental, stem culture, or other¡­.you took a tissue sample?¡±


    Thinking back, I wondered about the anteater and some of Feldon¡¯s behavior during the procedure. My gaze, recently relaxed with his little story about Elisabet, tightened with concern.


    Feldon lowered his head and told me, ¡°Yes. I saved a tissue sample. We do it with all patients for stem cultures and producing the best possible lines. Most of it is for research purposes. We don¡¯t often get normal healthy tissue except from amongst our staff. So every little bit, every little donation, furthers our research.¡±


    I listened to his voice. He spoke solemnly and without wavering. Which could just mean he was a better liar than I realized.


    I brushed my cheek and said sharply, ¡°I decline. You may not have my tissue.¡± For emphasis, I ripped the paper in half in front of him and added, ¡°If you¡¯d asked me when you took it¡­perhaps. But this way¡­.no.¡±


    He sent back a soft nod and told me, ¡°Fair enough. My fault for putting you on the spot. But please consider a donation to our cell lines before you leave. It would help very much for a diversity of cultures. So very much.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t keep a frown as I told him, ¡°I¡¯ll consider it but don¡¯t try to clone me¡­or something.¡±


    I meant it as a joke, but Feldon focused his steely demeanor as he said, ¡°I promise I won¡¯t. Each person is unique and worth saving, but not¡­.at the expense of another life.¡± I raised an eyebrow, but Feldon set his hands down and tried on a smile as he asked me, ¡°I am sorry to digress so. I am left with many somber feelings this morning. But we should continue the tour.¡±


    Raising a hand, I asked him, ¡°Before that though, I was just thinking your personal bio is a little slim. I know where you¡¯re from originally and what medical projects you were involved in here in the states. But there¡¯s not a lot about you before moving here from Europe.¡±


    If he wanted to deflect the issue as irrelevant, I had the perfect response about how it benefited the ranch and the Mantlemay Project to keep open and calm about his past. He tensed, so I knew there was something under the surface. However, it could just be bad memories.


    Pushing a few of his papers on his desk away into deeper piles, he said, ¡°What would you like to know?¡±


    I asked about his early life and got the impression of moving a lot, from Soviet territory to Austria at the end of the First Cold War. His mother died when he was young. Not much mention of his father. Enough material to work with. I could emphasize tragic circumstances.


    Then, I went back to something in my notes as I asked, ¡°Could you tell me about May Feldon, your late wife?¡±


    A heavy wariness was obvious around his gaze. I looked away from his eyes and folded my hands. I was about to retract my question when he slowly began, ¡°She was the very stars in the sky brought to Earth. Warming, beautiful, and like nothing and no one you¡¯ve ever met. A laugh to chase away all frowns. A cleverness to leave you thinking long after she¡¯s left the room. A heart that mends all others before itself.¡±


    Briefly, Feldon mentioned children dead along with his wife. He referred to the conflict which drove him from Europe, a regional civil war around when I was born which I¡¯d only seen briefly mentioned online, and which destroyed his family. His wife was killed trying to shield their children and others from a rebel sniper.


    He lamented, ¡°I was on rounds with the wounded. She was almost sent to my hospital. I would¡¯ve seen her one last time. When I found out¡­it was already too late¡­.I¡­¡± He took a long breath before adding, ¡°There is more. But there is always hope found in the darkest places.¡±

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 9: Ambiguity

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 9: Ambiguity


    Feldon stopped there and only spoke about the cases and miracles he wanted to show me before lunch.


    I had a better sense of him. I wouldn¡¯t have to fluff up his tragedy. It was right there, if I believed him. And, despite critical and cynical voices churning inside me since this tissue business, I did. He didn¡¯t want anyone else to experience the terrible things he had. He ravenously wanted to save everyone and fix their problems. I could easily see how, in at least a case or two, he could¡¯ve gone to the synthetic limit and that resulted in Mari¡¯s artificial legs.


    It may have all been a fiction, but it was one that relaxed me at that moment. He offered me some scrubs to wear. I had to politely decline despite the fact I figured I could pull off a male form with them on. It was too much of a risk. I got a blue lab coat instead.


    I expected this morning¡¯s cases would come from the same wing of the ranch as before. To my surprise, Feldon produced a key card and led me into areas I¡¯d never been. To my mild disappointment, it was more like an ICU instead of a realm of mad medical experiments.


    The nurses were more plentiful, and the air smelled different. The first patient didn¡¯t seem that bad and would be moved out of the ¡°special care¡± section as soon as a day or two. He was black and old enough to have salted gray hair cropped close to his head. As soon as we came in, he clutched Dr. Feldon¡¯s hand. It looked like he was about to kiss it.


    I noticed that he didn¡¯t talk to the patient but instead picked up a series of flashcards. One was a picture of himself which he paired with a smiling face and a finger pointing to the patient with his own picture. It was a bizarre way of communicating but I soon figured out why. He wasn¡¯t able to communicate in words.


    But the pictures they used were extensive. He even had a little screen on the side of his bed which allowed him to select and highlight a series of photos. There were a couple for pain management, restroom needs, water, hunger, and even one for boredom. He highlighted that one several times.


    I found myself a little bit lost as Feldon fluidly flipped through several different combinations of pictures which reminded me a little of sign language and some pictographic languages I¡¯d seen before. I tried to keep at the edge of the proceedings, but the man noticed me and selected a series of photos. The two of them shared a series of images. I tensed up when I saw a women¡¯s restroom symbol but, apparently, he also had problems distinguishing men from women because of the words involved.


    I noticed Feldon gave me a long look. It was enough to make me nervous. I spread out my coat, so it didn¡¯t cling to me. I was offered a series of pictures to communicate with. I read through the major ones until I got to ¡°Hello¡±.


    I felt like an infant trying to communicate with an adult as he zoomed through photos with complicated syntax. There was some confusion due to the ambiguity of the visual symbols.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    Feldon translated that for me.


    I settled on the newspaper and the pencil along with someone speaking before a crowd. He frowned but soon figured out what I meant.


    ¡°Spread good knowledge.¡± With that, he also gave his full consent to my presence.


    I assured him, with a few friendly pictures, that was my intent. Our session was cut short by a nurse who came in to give him a treatment. He was turned and an armadillo version of that anteater probe was laid across his head, its slender tongues hanging down like ivory noodles.


    Feldon took this time to tell me a bit more about his case file.


    Apparently, this was the high watermark for his recovery, as he noted, ¡°When he first came here, there was no effort or ability to communicate. It was connected to a severe case of meningitis. He would¡¯ve otherwise been resigned to life-long hospice care. His family worked hard to get him in here. He¡¯s been here for about a month.¡±


    I folded my arms and asked, ¡°About how much of his brain is made of Memetic Crystalline?¡±


    Feldon told me, ¡°He had extensive brain damage. Now I told you it can be very hard to repair a brain because it is so much of what makes a person. But other times so much is gone you have to just try and see where it goes.¡±


    He held a hand out to me and asked, his voice hush and his smile lean and low, ¡°What would you say defines a person? Is it the flesh? What about replacements? New organs? Where do we cross our Ship of Theseus threshold?¡±


    I had a ready answer, ¡°When there¡¯s nothing left of the brain.¡±


    With an easy nod, he offered, ¡°It would seem to be. But what about our friend from decades ago with a hole in his brain? What about Memetic Crystalline rerouting? Bit by bit, slowly and surely¡­can we not replace everything? What then? If a person thinks they are the same person, are they really the same person?¡±


    I folded my arms and sent back, ¡°No. But then neither is anyone. The brain develops, it changes. The brain as a child becomes something new as an adult. And so on. We¡¯re never the same. We just think we are.¡±


    Feldon raised his dense eyebrows to me and said no more. I turned away. After a while, he cleared his throat and elaborated on some of the patient¡¯s early condition. I saw another miraculous conversion of a person who some might consider a vegetable in years past returned to life. It all made me wonder what about Edgar from yesterday meant his progress was so slow. I wanted to talk to him again.


    But I was Feldon¡¯s guest and it was his tour to take me on. I didn¡¯t mind the hospital, I never did. I¡¯d done a piece on the way old county hospitals still weren¡¯t able to provide adequate care, even with heavy subsidies. Those hospitals were barely turn-of-the-century in their quality, dens of bedsores and painkillers. Worst of all, I could taste the dust on my tongue when I went into rooms to interview patients. No matter how technically clean, it was like a parasite that clung to you as you roamed those cave-like halls. I took long showers after that job, my last medical piece for some time.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.At the ranch, I could imagine those parasites gobbled up, as though by the anteater device. Light blasted in but didn¡¯t overwhelm. Space made it feel more like a grandiose home than an off-white prison. And the dusty bane, despite the desert all around, didn¡¯t even present itself when I was outside in the parking lot. Rather than the assaulting press of predatory dust, it was tamed here, as gentle as potting soil. Even on the track where it spread everywhere, I didn¡¯t feel it overwhelmingly, even on the wind.


    No dirt to be found. And yet, I still tensed my shoulders as we finished up with this patient and I was led to the next.


    In the deepest wing was the isolation ward to keep infections in or out. Some cases involved prions, those tricky little forms of life which weren¡¯t even alive at all. I gave a shudder as we looked through one particular observation window and he explained a case file to me. The man behind the windows lay in bed, resting.


    ¡°Such a thing would¡¯ve been unimaginable for this man. Fatal insomnia. No sleep. No dreams. No hope for a cure as the disease ate what there was of his brain.¡±


    I stood there quietly as he gave the short version of the treatment plan from designer antibodies to Memetic Crystalline carrying retroviral genetic rewrites.


    With a sigh, Dr. Feldon admitted, ¡°It took six days to finally get him to sleep. He was an extreme case. I honestly would not have given him good chances at the stage he was in. It will be a long recovery for him, but he will recover.¡±


    He didn¡¯t clarify if that would be a full recovery. These cases were still miraculous to me but they almost made my nose tickle a little. A place where it almost seemed death couldn''t touch. With that tickle, I had to ask, ¡°The girl from Finland¡­I guess that happens a lot¡­cases from around the world come here.¡±


    Feldon leaned his head instead of shrugging. ¡°When there are no other options or a doctor friendly to us recommends them. Even then, they have to get to us.¡±


    I pressed my lips together and asked, ¡°Those cases where it¡¯s extreme. Where you wouldn¡¯t give good chances¡­how often do the chances fall against their favor?¡±


    Turning from the window, Feldon told me, ¡°I don¡¯t dwell on that. Each time someone comes, we do all we can. We look at it as one-hundred percent we must save them, no matter how I feel. Everyone has a chance. If you want the clinical numbers though¡­I can probably find a receptionist to provide them.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes and persisted, ¡°I think you know the exact number. It¡¯s your ranch. You keep track.¡±


    Feldon waved a hand and told me, ¡°If a doctor, any doctor, tried to keep track of the exact number then they would never stop their imagination. What if that number could be lower? What if no one had to die? It¡¯s impossible. The admission for life is that you must leave one day. Some sooner than others.¡±


    Those words left a prickly sensation around my ears. They were the kinds of words tailor-made for a direct quote in an article. Ah, yes¡­the article. My notepad was somewhere in my bag along with my recorders. I could draw up a bit about what I gathered of Feldon¡¯s past and connect it to a quote like that. I could broadly paint him as an alpha male vainly seeking control of life itself through medicine. Plenty of stories out there like that.


    I could match up the loss of his wife with a life-long mission to make sure no one felt the same sort of pain. He did name the entire project for her but he didn¡¯t seem over weighed by her death to the point it seemed a driving force. But then he did have a careful persona I saw on the first day which had begun to peel back. Maybe intentionally.


    The more I saw of his great works, the more I was curious about the man than the miracles he provided to the world.


    After the isolation ward, we returned to the children. The newest arrived with their hair lost or shaven, like horrors from century-old black-and-white photos of archaic medicine. One particular little girl named Lucy drew Feldon to crouch beside her bed with an expression between wonder and sorrow. The little girl smiled, her head swaddled in a bright pink cloth. Underneath, patches of pale blond hair like chick feathers poked through.


    Lucy held her hands in her lap and told us, ¡°I had my birthday. I¡¯m six now!¡± I found myself crouching as well. Her pale-olive eyes looked far older than six, ringed underneath with the suggestion of a shadow. She felt like a feisty lady eleven times her age sealed in a small body. Lucy counted off all the people who came to her party and celebrated the mint cake and all the balloons hopping along the ceiling like a swarm of plastic bunnies.


    As a racing afterthought, she added, ¡°And Lily! She came too! For the cake¡­¡± She added the last like a badly-kept secret and asked, ¡°When my hair grows back, can it be pink¡­like how Lily¡¯s is red?¡±


    There was no question in my mind about which Lily she meant. Feldon didn¡¯t even admit to a glance my way as he promised, ¡°I¡¯m sure the nurses will be able to do that¡­if your parents say it is okay.¡±


    We didn¡¯t stay long with Lucy but I learned she liked old superhero movies, watching the stars, swimming, reading about huge buildings, and sunflowers. I dusted off my notepad and expressed the entire life of Lucy in a handful of words. I tracked back to those before, sleeping restfully and speaking without speaking before tapping my pen on the word ¡®Mari¡¯.


    Cautiously, I asked Feldon, ¡°What are Lucy¡¯s prospects?¡± I knew that the choice of Lucy was manipulative, along with all the others today.


    He waited to finish with a few quick notes on the chart in front of Lucy¡¯s door before explaining, ¡°If I didn¡¯t mention, everything on paper gets a digital copy. I just can¡¯t give up the indulgence of real paper¡­¡± He gave a half-gesture to my notepad.


    When he was done, he cleared his throat and told me, ¡°Even at the better children¡¯s hospitals in the world, her tumors would¡¯ve been challenging. They put down roots worst than weeds. Even here, we can¡¯t assure anything. She¡¯s doing well enough right now to plan on being seven next year. She won¡¯t have to stay more than another week. And I¡¯ll make sure she leaves with pink hair.¡±


    Despite my concerns and reservations, I couldn¡¯t resist a smile.

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 10: Images

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 10: Images


    Dr. Feldon made a few calls and commented that his ¡°worrier¡± would be available next before lunch. But, he amended, ¡°Edgar is on the way. Would you like to stop by?¡±


    Whether Feldon noted my wonder from yesterday or he really was on the way, I wasn¡¯t about to pass up the opportunity.


    Edgar was just finishing up a sponge bath. His screen was showing plenty of blur-worthy details from his imagination. I was surprised the nurse didn¡¯t blush.


    On the wall, Edgar and Ada appeared on the shore of a jungle lagoon with the alabaster seashells of advanced buildings all along the far, mottled-green cliffside. Long waves crashed against the shore and curled against their feet. Edgar plopped down on the sand and asked, ¡°Is that lady from yesterday with you, Dr. Feldon?¡±


    I resisted the urge to blanch. It was entirely possible that Dr. Feldon visited more than once yesterday, with someone else. I raised what I hoped was a confident eyebrow as I folded my arms.


    Dr. Feldon gave a heartier chuckle than I expected, as he explained, ¡°It¡¯s Mr. Harper from yesterday.¡± A blank gray silhouette materialized on the projection and Edgar inspected it as Ada gave him a skeptical look.


    On the other side of the image, a rendition of what I assumed was Dr. Feldon swiftly appeared. The details were precise but still rather idealized. The tone of his hair was a little darker than reality and its texture a little thicker. He was also clearly taller and dressed in a fancier lab coat. Not bad though.


    My image softened, getting shorter and smaller. I had to frown and clear my throat. Dr. Feldon gave a faint chuckle and told me, ¡°Eventually, we will find a way to scan people and things so Edgar¡¯s imagination doesn¡¯t have to do all the work.¡±


    Edgar scowled on the screen as he relayed, ¡°A lot less fun than guessing¡­¡± His guesses had me closer in size to Ada. I had to chime in about my actual height (which I was very much proud of). Slowly, he made my gray form taller again.


    With a sigh, Dr. Feldon clasped his hands and announced, ¡°There¡¯s something I need to take care of. Will be just a moment.¡± Feldon¡¯s on-screen avatar blinked away and mine remained nearby. I pulled up a chair with a scuffing squeak that rattled the sand like a tremor. I offered a quick apology and scooted up to look into Edgar¡¯s tightly-squinting eyes.


    I knew from yesterday that he couldn¡¯t really see me but as a shift of light and shadow. I turned to the screen to see Ada and Edgar were watching expectantly. I cleared my throat and inspected my avatar. I rubbed my cheek and offered input on how to improve it.


    Ada chirped in, ¡°I apologize for Edgar calling you a lady. He often has women on the brain.¡± I answered only, ¡°It¡¯s alright. I¡¯m not that masculine¡­¡±


    My avatar shrunk a little more. I amended, ¡°Although you can¡­you know¡­flatter me a little.¡± It stopped shrinking but didn¡¯t get any bigger.


    I addressed Ada for the details. I mentioned the form of my suit. It would¡¯ve helped if I had some sort of photo on any of my host sites. The best I could offer was a stylized drawing of a classic gumshoe which would¡¯ve just looked silly on a realistic face.


    Eventually, we arrived at something I couldn¡¯t complain about, even though it tilted more towards boyish than manly. My avatar plopped down on the sand and crossed its legs in a way which mimicked Ada more than Edgar.


    The setting shifted, losing the high-tech facility in the background. The lagoon deepened but sprouted more rocks. Blue overwhelmed the green, like a frozen time past dusk but before evening. Clouds, like silvery puffs of cotton stretched thin, sprawled across the sky.


    I had to reiterate what I¡¯d felt yesterday, ¡°Edgar, I wouldn¡¯t mind living in one of your dreams.¡±


    Edgar¡¯s avatar cracked a cheeky smile and asked mine, which sat there like a game character without a player, ¡°How do you know you¡¯re not in a dream right now?¡±


    I leaned back in the chair but found the wood was more delicate than I thought. Straightening, I told him, ¡°Because I wake up.¡±


    Ada urged me, ¡°Don¡¯t indulge him. He likes to mess around.¡±


    Edgar continued, kicking back as stars appeared despite the still blue of the sky, ¡°I¡¯m always waking up. Always finding myself somewhere with a sense of relief like ¡®holy crap¡­whew, I¡¯m not trapped in a bed about to shit myself again¡¯. Of course then, maybe the dream is the bed and reality is an infinity of wishes that always come true. I have no idea if you or Dr. Feldon aren¡¯t just concerns which plague my subconscious. Not to say you aren¡¯t nice little imaginings.¡±


    I didn¡¯t even know what to say to that. I squeezed my hands, feeling the warm (slightly sweaty) flesh. I pinched them a few times and looked back to the screen to ask, ¡°Do you really think that¡¯s possible?¡±


    Ada gave me a sympathetic look and remarked, ¡°Indulging¡­¡±


    Edgar ran his hands through the coarse sand around him. His maroon suit became more of a teal. ¡°All I can do is think. You all on the ¡®outside¡¯ don¡¯t bend to my thoughts but then not all of my thoughts do. They flow and fight and dig and soar¡­¡±


    An entire galaxy revealed itself in the dim blue of the sky, brighter than the Milky Way appeared on even the clearest night far from the sprawl and looming closer than seemed safe.


    I stretched a little and asked, ¡°What do you think of Dr. Feldon?¡±


    A new sun swelled on the horizon barely brighter than the moon. The galaxy above swirled as though time was accelerating while the little sun hung motionless. At the edge of the projection, a beach-front home started to assemble itself.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Edgar chuckled as shimmering fish blasted through the water with twinkling lights upon their bellies. ¡°I could ask the same of you and your first impressions. You always give nice first impressions in your articles.¡±


    Not something I would really cite, but I felt a rush of pride. My first impression of Edgar would be a man locked in one place but always swimming through the possibilities of humanity. For Feldon¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m still working on that. I get the sense he wants to save the world. He¡¯s ambitious. He takes every life here with the utmost seriousness. He often laments he can¡¯t do more. He¡¯s private and careful. I can respect that. But he has a great many secrets. I can tell that already. I just can¡¯t tell if they¡¯re important secrets or pains he¡¯s buried from his past.¡±


    Ada answered this time, saying, ¡°Not bad. But every secret is important. No matter if the one who might seek them out considers them important or not. The reason why they¡¯re kept reveals something about the keeper. Just like your secrets, Mr. Harper.¡±


    I clutched the back of the chair to keep it from wiggling. There was no mistaking her implication as a massive female symbol dropped out of the sky next to my avatar like the most polite meteorite strike ever seen.


    Really, I didn¡¯t have to acknowledge it. If it had been Edgar then I would¡¯ve deferred to Ada¡¯s indulgence caution. But it was Ada, who I assumed was Edgar¡¯s more rational and level-headed side (at least so far as I could make sense of the avatars).


    ¡°You¡¯re right, I have secrets. But I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re getting at.¡±


    Ada gave a mysterious smirk before making a note on a pad which I wasn¡¯t sure was there before. Edgar tossed a fistful of sand into the sky. Instead of falling, it changed into brown thrushes which splintered off until the entire shoreline was decorated by an undulating ring of birds rising and falling.


    Edgar said only, ¡°I¡¯m not one to tattle, just one to tease. But I won¡¯t press. Any requests for settings? Maybe a place you¡¯ve written about?¡± He gestured to the beautiful twilight of the fantasy world around him.


    A poker face didn¡¯t seem to have an effect on Edgar, so I wondered if voice stress was giving me away. I didn¡¯t feel like I was speaking any differently than normal but when all a man has of the outside world is a particular, vivid sense, like a dog¡¯s nose taken to the limit, then who knew what he might be able to detect.


    I¡¯d been lucky at times, careful in others, and I had ways to keep my secret in case the usual methods failed. But I let it go on the hope that he was telling the truth, and thought about the background.


    I loved the one he¡¯d chosen and the way he¡¯d added details like little crabs scurrying along. The beach house had been long since finished with only a single light beaming through the bay windows. Fireflies that cycled through colors of the rainbow lingered on the shoals. Far off, an animal gave a deep, throaty lament.


    I could see how Edgar¡¯s dreams might feel more real than a voice from a boring hospital room.


    While considering his offer, I noticed he discretely dropped off not only a male symbol but some other symbols relating to gender as well, even some I¡¯d never seen before. I appreciated the gesture but none of them appealed to me. I stretched a bit and teased my chin with the question.


    I could come up with plenty of possibilities. I¡¯ve been to places more comforting and more desolate. I¡¯ve enjoyed a cool day in a small town with a deeply-colored tree line surrounding everything like a jade bowl. I¡¯ve enjoyed glimpses of the deepest part of the sprawl, where most people walk as the streets swarm with automatic traffic. I¡¯ve marveled at how organic it feels. I¡¯ve reconstructed shorelines, towns, cities, and lives melted away with the inexorable, rising tide. I swam through the skeletal remains of the greatest of all reefs. I¡¯ve listened to cries of lost men and women. I¡¯ve seen a lot, even at my age. I¡¯ve written about most of it but put my pen down as well. Some things permit no words.


    I cleared my throat. No little reaction from Ada or Edgar this time. I told them, ¡°Just show me something pleasant¡­¡±


    It didn¡¯t take them long. A different shoreline, a temporary one like after a rainstorm. Accenting reeds clung to the sandy edges. Old-growth, stoic trees rose with crafted swoops and swirls, crowned with green thunderheads to touch the sky. Mossy rocks sat together in neat piles. Through mists, even larger trees loomed, like shadows or specters floating through the swallowed sky.


    Ada and Edgar settled down before one of the nearer pools. My avatar, still looking a bit smooth and small, glanced around a few times. Then, she showed up.


    Out of the left edge of the frame appeared Mari. She scampered over some weeds, not sprinting all-out but still rushing along. Hugging a nearby pool, she panted, out of breath, and looked over to my avatar. My avatar looked back.


    She was dressed in a gown with the faintest suggestion of lime. A sudden breeze caught it and it bunched up against her thighs. She giggled without sound and stretched her arms behind her. Her hair was the same brilliant green as in person, barely muted by the overcast sky. She seemed so carefree.


    I scooted up in the chair so much I worried it might tip over as I asked Edgar, ¡°Who is that in the back with the green hair?¡±


    On screen, Edgar pointed to her and she in turn pointed to herself. He told me, ¡°Someone shared.¡±


    Apparently everyone was gifted in being chronically vague about her. I puffed and asked, ¡°Is her name Mari?¡±


    Neither Ada nor Edgar betrayed subconscious surprise. Edgar simply chuckled as Ada explained, ¡°We know Mari. She¡¯s this¡­¡±

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 11: Mari and Kala

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 11: Mari and Kala


    With a flourish, another girl joined the proceedings. She was dressed in shorts and a top much like Mari wore this very day. They got her hair perfectly and her face. In fact, it wasn¡¯t even an approximation. It was Mari from her scowl to her figure. Before I could say anything, in Mari fashion, she took off like a bolt fired from a crossbow over the uneven ground. The other girl called soundlessly after with her hands cupping her mouth and tried to keep up with Mari. Before long, they were both lost to the mists.


    Edgar joked, ¡°Sorry¡­she likes to run.¡±


    Clearly, that was Mari. But who was the ¡°someone shared¡±? Someone Edgar was told about? Too vague. I sensed that Edgar knew her name but if I asked then I was likely to get evaded again. Instead, I asked, ¡°Could you bring the girl who wasn¡¯t Mari back?¡±


    Silence drifted over the screen, the oppressive kind of silence which makes ears ring as it swells. The clouds took on a noticeable, darker pall. It was Edgar¡¯s turn to clear his throat as he replied, ¡°If you like¡­¡±


    Mari shadowed the other girl when she returned. They walked together, sometimes in step. They were different in subtle ways beyond their attire or their demeanor, but they still looked so similar.


    I was about to ask more when the door to the room opened and Feldon reentered. By the time I was able to look back to the screen, they¡¯d both crossed back to the left edge of the frame from which they¡¯d emerged.


    Feldon apologized for the distraction and observed the screen. His eyes lingered suspiciously, but he quickly complimented Edgar on the lovely background. The fog rolled in a little deeper, obscuring some of the details.


    I left a note about Edgar, said my goodbyes, and rejoined Dr. Feldon.


    After some quiet walking, I thought it would be fine to ask Feldon, ¡°You like that one? Edgar sure can make some interesting places.¡±


    He coughed and gave a little bob of his head before telling me, ¡°He didn¡¯t have to make that one. It¡¯s a real place. It¡¯s lovely. Wonderful memories.¡±


    I gathered that it was a forest seeded by the government in some area of Europe as part of an expanded park. And that was all I got from him. I made a note and let him take me to that ¡®worrier¡¯ I¡¯d been promised.


    The room was in the rear of the main ranch building at a small off-shoot from the main hallways. Feldon led me into a small room lined with servers as thin as paper. I¡¯d seen newer ones before, but these weren¡¯t bad. The room ran cold with what felt like a cross breeze off a fridge blowing all the time.


    The ¡®worrier¡¯ was seated in a small, wooden chair before a pale blue computer console. It was old-school, even more so than mine, dependent more on the keyboard than any other kind of control. I narrowed my eyes as the worrier turned to face me with a slim hand hanging limply out.


    He had breasts. They were pretty obvious through the pale, glossy tan of a collared shirt. Their voice drifted between male and female with a rough drone which made me land on male before flittering over to female when it surged up to a high pitch. His face was smooth and glossy, especially with a sheen like sweat despite the chill of the room. His hips flared and he was several inches shorter than me. I wasn¡¯t sure what to say, so I just put out my hand and he took it. His fingers felt cold.


    ¡°Logan Harper.¡±


    ¡°Kala Vorpan.¡± The name rolled off with a soprano squeak like the introduction of some D&D character. I had the vague suspicion his/her name was as much of an alias as my own.


    Clasping his hands, Feldon began, ¡°Can you tell my friend here about what you do for the Mantlemay Project?¡±


    In twitching reflection of Feldon¡¯s clasped hands, ¡®Kala¡¯ interlaced a set of fingers and then stretched them behind her. It didn¡¯t look comfortable, but Kala didn¡¯t wince. Then, Kala spoke.


    ¡°Troubles. All troubles. Coding. Fixing. Failing. Fixing. Knowing all goes wrong. Just prep for. Invest problems before problems. Check background new people. Check labs. Information lossless no noise. Get ulcers.¡±


    I just stood there for a moment trying to parse all Kala had just spewed at me. I could only offer, ¡°What?¡±


    Kala sheepishly gave a bow of the head. ¡°Sorry. Words. My head. Jumpy. I worry. I fix. I worry more.¡±


    That didn¡¯t really help my understanding. But I¡¯d been able to parse that particularly staccato and ¡®jumpy¡¯ article proposal yesterday, so I could handle this.


    I just didn¡¯t know what to ask this little bundle of net nerves. Feldon put forth a question to help, ¡°What do you worry about with Memetic Crystalline?¡±


    Kala¡¯s eyes bulged as ¡®she¡¯ gripped ¡®her¡¯ hands in front of ¡®her¡¯. Had to be double-jointed or some other sort of weird joints.


    ¡°Grey goo. Containment fail. Crystal earth. Violent injury. Command override. Self-awareness. Mind-controlled human avatars. Memory failure. Conversion failure. Nano accidental blood-brain incursion. Shock trauma. Magnetized mutation. Puncture bleed out. Failure analogue protein leading to immune attack. Overwrite errors. Seizure damage to crystal¡­.offhand. More saved.¡± Kala gestured to the computer with a saved file entitled ¡°Memetic Crystalline - Possible Faults¡±. Kala definitely seemed thorough, if you could follow chaotic streams of thought. Feldon flashed Kala a look and ¡®she¡¯ offered to send me the file directly to my personal device.


    That was all Kala said about Memetic concerns. Additionally, Kala had come up with contingency plans in the event of each possible scenario. Some of them amounted to ¡°delegate to outside authorities¡±. Others, Feldon explained, had been implemented as fail-safes.


    I would say that Kala seemed skittish but, before we left, ¡®she¡¯ rattled off a series of possible problems within the ranch¡¯s computer grid along with an extensive list of ways a person could die from an improbable micro-meteorite brain strike to an only relatively rare aortic dissection. Each burst out with the same staccato. However, I noticed ¡®her¡¯ mood relaxed with the length of the list rather than adding anxiety to ¡®her¡¯ demeanor.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    As Kala flipped a bit of hair over an ear, my thoughts turned to how I might consider him/her. While I loathed simple gender binaries, I wasn¡¯t sure how to ask Kala one way, the other, or neither¡­especially since it might draw attention to my own ambiguity.


    I let Kala simply be Kala so far as I was concerned and I let Feldon lead me away. Already Kala was back to work on what I assumed would be the next worry.


    It wasn¡¯t long before I received the file. It was pages upon pages of running, truncated sentences. I brushed my cheek. Feldon noted it was lunchtime break but didn¡¯t present me with any teasers of our afternoon session.


    I¡¯d seen a decent overview of cases and infrastructure. It would be stretching to investigate beyond tomorrow. At the same time, I still had so many questions, along with the name ¡®Mari¡¯ holding the edge of my tongue. That said, this was a job and I¡¯d barely touched on what my patron wanted of me. No clear questions of corruption. I wasn¡¯t even sure on the media. And as for the dirt¡­


    Feldon receded as I rechecked my device. The file sent by Kala. In a separate tab, I opened up the patron offer. I frowned.


    Patron offers were typically anonymous, ghostwriting for all forms of publication. They were filtered through my publication client who represented me online and weeded out illiterate twelve-year-old conspiracy theorists with impossible requests to find noted international fugitive, Simona Hatch. If I clicked the upfront payment on those then I¡¯d likely just get pulled into some pyramid program or worse. This one claimed to be from a legit online publication which I¡¯d done regular work with, the main reason I didn¡¯t question it.


    I sighed through my nose and tried to recall the last service station I¡¯d seen on the way. I returned to the parking lot. There were a few more cars than when I arrived but no one near my spot. The air felt thicker than in the morning with Mari. If this wasn¡¯t a desert then I would¡¯ve expected fog. As it was, I noticed a gray, crinkled edge to the sky.


    I gave a quick glance to the track. No one. I got in my car.


    After some searching, I found the place I wanted. It was several miles out. I stopped to recharge and made use of their pathetic wireless connection. It was downright turn of the century with kilobytes crawling by. Still, it was enough to get a message to my client.


    I asked, ¡°Confirm message by patron¡± and sent along the original text. There had been a time when I sent out such messages as routinely as breathing. But, for all my other paranoias, I¡¯d come to trust my client¡¯s vetting system such that I didn¡¯t nag them about what was their primary job.


    I munched on a few small snacks and waited. It wasn¡¯t too hot. A light breeze fluttered from shifting directions. It pushed the warmest air on my face and scattered pebbles against my shoes.


    The reply came quickly. They confirmed it was a valid patron offer from the right place. No funny business. I expected that. As confirmation they sent me the registration ID along with the IP and a few other identifiers they used. Most importantly, they sent me the trackmark.


    Once used by online intelligence agencies during a darker age of the web, the infrastructure was still in place for trackmarks. Registrations could be faked. IPs could be dynamic, confused, or spoofed. But a trackmark told no lies. I signed up for it with my client when I first started taking offers. Trackmark usage was right in the patron application for my work. I knew it scared away some patrons, but it made me feel a little safer. I¡¯d only asked for a patron¡¯s trackmark once before.


    Carefully, using the programs I had on my device, I went through the registration and IP checking. I turned up the prestigious online magazine I¡¯d been published in several times, which had been among the last holdouts of physical publication. I went to trackmark.


    The initial results were inconclusive, which was a kind of confirmation in itself. It could¡¯ve easily come from that magazine or from someone else. But if it did come from that magazine, then I could think of a few reasons why I couldn¡¯t just track it back to them. Sighing and rotating my head, I dialed a friend who had experience in this sort of thing. I¡¯d met him through a prior story. Fighting my connection, I managed to send him all the relevant information. And I let him work.


    I expected an answer in ten minutes. It turned out it took him half an hour before I had an answer.


    ¡°Your guy is not playing around. Actually, a pain in the ass but I got them.¡±


    I soon had the correct contact information. I clicked over to the other tab and read. I confirmed with my friend that his search was correct.


    The file Kala had just sent me and the patron offer to write a story about the Mantlemay Project had come from¡­exactly the same place. Maybe even the same Kala but my information wasn¡¯t that exact.


    I clenched my jaw and considered the possibilities. I¡¯d been hired for a fluff job with the request to get dirt when my target was actually clean. I¡¯d been hired because Feldon wanted to call attention to the clinic without directly inviting a reporter. Or he wanted to document something or put it to rest. Or Kala or someone else at the ranch was trying to expose stuff Feldon didn¡¯t want me to know. The explanations I could imagine were varied but unflattering to Feldon. I clenched my device in my hand and got back in my car.


    As I headed back to the ranch, I noticed the edge of the sky had gotten dark, pregnant with rain.


    A storm was coming.

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 12: The Past

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 12: The Past


    Even on standard drive, my car easily outraced the storm. I stared at the vestigial foot pedals and shriveled wheel. Leftover promises of control. I couldn¡¯t actually drive. My car had a license, not me, and the insurance premiums for human drivers made it a luxury for the super-rich.


    I leaned back in the chair. I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to go back to the ranch. I had my notes to one side with the rough, new questions of the day scribbled below. Mari was naturally underlined with all the stuff from Edgar and Ada accented with question marks. I tapped my notes about Kala as my eyes flicked between them and questions I had about Feldon.


    Pressing my head against the window did nothing to resolve my bitter confusion. Soon, I¡¯d be back on the ranch. I¡¯d have to face Feldon.


    In my head, I went back and forth between imagining how I might confront him between playing it cool and not mentioning what I knew. I rubbed my head as my right eye gave that little quiver it sometimes did.


    All too soon, I was back in the parking lot and the car was maneuvering into a space. I picked myself up from the seat and braced myself with the door. With a breath, I took one step and then another towards the front door.


    It felt strange to walk through that threshold with no reaction from anyone. The receptionist just gave me a once-over of recognition before returning to her work. Everyone moved in their own little spaces, contained. I passed Feldon¡¯s office on my way to the cafeteria. As expected, the door was closed. I didn¡¯t test to see if it was locked or if anyone might respond to a knock.


    What I got at the cafeteria wasn¡¯t any healthier than the snacks from the station. I wanted something hard. Real liquor. Maybe mixed with something minty. I rarely drank. My uncle provided the perfect example of why to avoid drinking. But every so often, I needed something.


    Instead of a drink, I scratched nervously at my arms and drained something high in fructose and fake fruit. I was probably doing more damage with that than a few shots to my liver.


    Strumming the cup, I barely noticed Lily slip in the side door and eye the pastries under glass on the other side of the room. I jerked up and quietly called to her with a hand raised. She paused with my voice before politely putting up a hand. She approached but not closely. I had to wonder what was going through her head as she spoke.


    ¡°Hi there¡­ How are you?¡±


    I noticed her restraint, a feeling it seemed like she wanted to break free from, like a controlled, wavering flame. She was dressed in pretty normal street clothes with a blue top which clashed with her hair and a subdued pair of tan jeans.


    So many possible answers lay before me. Just sitting there and waiting was an answer. It was a technique I neglected to use more often. Project a pleasant demeanor but hold my words, let the other person fill the air with them. I had no idea if it would work on Lily.


    I answered, ¡°Tired. Yourself?¡±


    She sent me a sympathetic look and came closer to say only, ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    I asked, ¡°Are you getting some cake?¡±


    She couldn¡¯t disguise her desire as her eyes lingered on the row of pastries. With a smile, I offered to buy her any she liked. She selected several flavored in her preferred fashion. With little plates of cake and ice cream laid before her, she dug in and ate quickly.


    I got myself the soup of the day and sat with her. Eating, she didn¡¯t really need to speak. However, the glances she gave me seemed to say she wanted to. I ate sedately and sent out my first volley.


    ¡°I saw Mari running earlier. Her legs got messed up.¡±


    Lily seized up with cake puffing out her cheeks and strained to keep from choking and spraying it. She drank a big gulp of water, cleared her throat once, and put a hand behind her fiery locks.


    ¡°That so? Aww.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± It came time to test my idea. I kept my gaze calmly on Lily and wordlessly tried to invite her to speak. It wasn¡¯t really a success. She retreated behind her cake like a creamy fortress before she started stuffing her mouth again. She did give me one tidbit to keep the conversation going, something I already knew but still worth the effort.


    ¡°It happens a lot. She¡¯ll be fine...¡±


    I leaned over the table and noted, ¡°She mentioned that. So you know, I¡¯m talking about your green-haired friend from yesterday. She gave me permission to use that name for her. I guess she likes me.¡±


    That earned a laugh from Lily. ¡°Lucky. Yeah, Mari. Sorry I didn¡¯t say. Stuff¡­¡±


    I assured her, ¡°It¡¯s quite alright. Even without you telling me, I figured things out¡­.I know what¡¯s going on.¡±


    I locked my eyes on hers. Her spoon squeaked across the bowl like a skipping record (I actually had a few old ones in my closet). That alone was a kind of confirmation without saying anything. Despite the jitter, Lily kept her smile and asked, ¡°Oh? What¡¯s that?¡±


    Honestly, I had nothing to go on but I¡¯d listened to these people the last few days, I had a sense of how to be nicely vague. I did it from time to time in articles with patron exceptions where I needed to be careful.


    I told her, ¡°I know what¡­Dr. Feldon wants with me. And if he won¡¯t just come out and admit it¡­if he won¡¯t quit treating me like a fool to be manipulated, then he¡¯ll never see me again. I will walk out that door and never come back¡­¡± A gamble. With one question, she could shake the foundation of my statement. But I stood with it.


    The spoon came clattering out of her mouth. She looked flustered, but her eyes held on me with unblinking resolution. They seemed even bigger like that.


    ¡°No! Please! Forgive him. He¡­his ways. It¡¯s not manipulation. I just¡­it¡¯s been so long¡­¡± She pleaded, the sound of tears dipping through her words.


    I folded my hands on the table and asked simply, ¡°So long since what?¡±


    Lily looked down at the cake and then across at me. She took a breath. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much you know about his past.¡±


    I flipped through my notes. ¡°He mentioned a civil war and the day a sniper attacked his wife and family. He didn¡¯t say much more. I¡¯m guessing the sniper killed his children, along with his wife.¡±


    Slowly, Lily¡¯s hands bunched up. She stared down at the table. ¡°May¡­she. May¡­was never very tall. Always skinny, especially growing up. But she¡­made herself a shield for the children. They tried to hide.¡±


    I barely breathed. The way Lily spoke about May had a similar edge of connection and pain as Feldon¡¯s words. I resisted pushing her, I only asked, ¡°The children?¡±


    In a moment, her eyes might¡¯ve fluttered up and she¡¯d vanish in a flash of embarrassment and uncertainty. I held steady and waited for her to continue.


    She coughed softly into a hand and nodded once before explaining, ¡°Just kids going to school. May saved two who clung to her legs. They visit her gravestone in Odessa every year.¡± Lily stopped there. Carefully, she prodded at her cake.


    I wanted to reach out and touch her hand. I wanted to ask the next, obvious question. What about the Feldon children? It felt like something crucial was just out of reach. But I drew back. I let her have her time.


    Clutching the edges of her plate, Lily finally told me. ¡°And the girls. She had three little girls. Well, actually Dalya would¡¯ve gotten upset if you called her little. She was so feisty but sweet. She was so¡­precious¡­¡± Lily shut her eyes a few times as they held the impression of tears if not the actual appearance of them.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    This time, I reached out for her hand. I shouldn¡¯t have but I stated, ¡°You knew Dalya.¡±


    And that was too much. Lily slipped away, holding her palms to her chest. She took a slow breath and said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry. There are things I shouldn¡¯t say. I¡¯ll only say¡­ please don¡¯t go yet. No matter what you think, Feldon is a good man¡­.I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±


    With that, she stood up and took her plate with her. And I was left at the booth with just as many questions. But I was convinced Lily knew Dalya. So, that meant she had to be at least thirty years old. And what happened to Dalya? No idea. But I could only imagine the worst from Lily¡¯s reaction. As well, two other girls whose names I didn¡¯t know. Images of Edgar¡¯s screen filled my mind.


    I could¡¯ve made good on my promise to leave, but my curiosity was only rising. For some reason, someone at the ranch wanted me here and I had no idea why. I decided to try pressing Kala with the evidence I had while keeping a watch for Feldon.


    I walked by his office on the way. Still locked. Tracing the path we¡¯d taken before lunch, it wasn¡¯t long to get back to Kala¡¯s room. I nudged the door open slowly, so I wouldn¡¯t alert him to my presence. Turned out it didn¡¯t matter. Feldon sat in an office chair facing the door with Kala still tapping at the keyboard.


    I didn¡¯t see surprise on Feldon¡¯s face. He raised his eyebrows with his hands cupped in front of him as he asked, ¡°Did you need something?¡±


    Kala whirled around and stretched. His eyes were easy and relaxed, like he didn¡¯t expect what I was going to say.


    I seized the issue immediately and stated, ¡°I know. And I talked to Lily.¡±


    My turn to be carefully vague. I could¡¯ve elaborated on what I knew, but I still wasn¡¯t entirely sure if Kala was a whistleblower or if Feldon knew as well. But Lily¡¯s fervent words were nudging me away from thinking the worst of Feldon, for the moment at least.


    I folded my arms and took a step towards them. My attention was on Feldon, who settled deeper into his chair. Kala gave a glance at him before resuming typing.


    Feldon could¡¯ve easily stonewalled me with more questions and inquiries for clarification. But he said simply, ¡°I asked Kala to send you that file. I knew you would make the connection. And I was hoping you would make it quickly, as you have.¡±


    There were no doubts in his tone. Feldon knew what I meant. No ambiguity, no alternatives. That alone was a little unsettling.


    I took a few steps back and asked the clear and obvious question, ¡°Why do it?¡±


    He shut his eyes and spoke slowly to me. ¡°Why did I hire you to write about this ranch and what we do? You¡¯re probably guessing it¡¯s for good PR or because reporters won¡¯t come any other way. At least good reporters. Those are plausible reasons but they¡¯re not my reasons¡­¡±


    His words invited the next obvious question, ¡°What are your reasons?¡±


    ¡°Family. Clearly and simply¡­family.¡±


    I raised an eye to that. Theories orbited about in my head going from Mari to Lily to Dalya to Kala to May to¡­other names I was probably forgetting. I had no sense of how it all fit together, but I had a feeling that Feldon was finally ready to spill his guts.


    I urged, ¡°Tell me¡­¡±


    Feldon looked to Kala with a friendly expression and rose to his feet. ¡°There¡¯s a small conference room down the hall a bit. We can chat there.¡±


    Nodding, I hustled out first. My neck felt a little prickly and my throat felt tense. Once outside, Feldon had to lead the way to the room. It was a typical setup but had a screen like Edgar¡¯s to one side and a control console. I took what looked like the most comfortable seat and scooted close to the table.


    Feldon offered me something to drink. I took a water and sipped carefully as he went over to the control console.


    Clasping his hands, he told me, ¡°I said this is all about family. That¡¯s the truth. I wish I got to know my mother better and while I lived with my father a good while, I was even further from him. So, when I met my wife¡¯s family from America, I was stunned¡­they were incredible. A mother-in-law out of my dreams and a father-in-law I wish I¡¯d known so long ago. My wife even had a brother who smiled all the time. Then add in our three children. Home was so many places, but it was never lonely¡­¡± He gave little chuckles of reminiscence.


    I sighed and asked, ¡°Dalya?¡±


    The chuckles ended. Feldon raised a finger and tapped on the control console. Before long, a series of photos came on the screen. A young woman with a gentle smirk and dark hair cropped neatly around her head. Her eyes melded between silver and blue. I looked away. Her cheeks curled with warmth. I lingered there.


    She was familiar. Of course, I¡¯d never seen her before, but I felt something when I saw her. I pressed my heels into the floor and sighed. I let Feldon click through a series of old photos with him when his hair wasn¡¯t quite so gray. Eventually, he came to the girls.


    I narrowed my eyes. One was older and clad in a brilliant red dress. Vaguely familiar too. Still a little kid but old enough to loom above her sisters. The other two sat together, barely older than infants but their hair already growing in. They had noticeable differences about them, but they shared the same matching green tops. I cupped my mouth and looked over to Feldon.


    He pointed and named, ¡°Yes, that¡¯s Dalya. She was our firstborn. Headstrong, beautiful, and so very clever. She and her uncle were inseparable. She wanted to be a pastry chef when she grew up. Loved the theater but would never sit still for a long performance. I was going to get her a violin for her birthday¡­. She lay with May as though just sleeping when they found her¡­with a bullet in her chest.¡±


    Feldon bowed his head and so did I. His hand traced over the two young girls together as he told me, ¡°Rachel and Aura. Fraternal twins. Both healthy and normal after¡­a little trouble and health considerations when they were born. We tried to get them to share the same bed, but they¡¯d always kick each other. When we put them in separate rooms, they would cry all night. What do you do? Heh¡­ Aura was more active from an early age, always crawling and climbing and opening things in our apartment we owned for a time in Yalta. Rachel would always be behind, trying to catch up. Then she¡¯d fall and cry¡­¡±


    I leaned forward as he switched to a single shot of Rachel. I peered closely at her. I looked into her eyes. A prickly feeling crawled across my neck and I had to look away. I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it.


    Feldon leaned back against the table. ¡°She was already starting to read. Well¡­listen to May as she read to her. Mostly in English. And a week before¡­ she not only had her first word but her first words. All them from out of the book, all at once like an ocean of language she was trying for the first time. I remember her crying ¡®wind¡¯ as she stumbled after Aura¡­fitting¡­as that¡¯s what ¡®Aura¡¯ means. Of course, it was more a ¡®wan¡¯ or a ¡®wih¡¯ sound if I¡¯m being impartial, but very good for one so young¡­¡±


    The prickly feeling wasn¡¯t going away. The air was getting stuffy too. I coughed a little to myself and brushed at my hair. I told myself I had no idea where this was going. At the same time, a notion was rising in my head, one which I couldn¡¯t shake off.

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 13: Wounds

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 13: Wounds


    Gently, Dr. Feldon¡¯s fingers caressed the image of Aura and Rachel Feldon as he spoke with a starkly quiet voice. He repeated what I knew from Lily about the other children. ¡°May shielded them all. Only two bullets got through. One inside Dalya. The other tore through my wife and stuck Aura¡¯s spinal cord. C6 injury. They got her to a hospital in time to save her life¡­¡±


    It was conspicuous what he was avoiding. I had to ask, ¡°And what about Rachel?¡±


    He flipped back to a single image of her. I looked away from her gaze and listened to Feldon.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t find her. Sometime later, the police informed us that several children were kidnapped by rebel fighters. They tried to track them down but without success. It was a chaotic time. The rebels were notorious for trafficking in children. They sold them to the highest bidders to work in factories, homes of the elite, and¡­brothels. They told us that a girl Rachel¡¯s age was more likely to be sold through a third-party to an adoption service where someone rich, desperate¡­or both would buy her.¡±


    This was so heartbreaking to hear to the point that taking notes was the last thing on my mind. At the same time, I felt a lump in my throat made of what tasted like bile and apprehension. Feldon had a reason for telling me all this. I drained my water.


    He brushed his hair back as he continued, ¡°Naturally, we continued to press the police but, over there, one little lost girl was just a single statistic in a war full of them. I stayed there for May, because she thought that we both could do some good. Soon after the shooting, after I¡¯d buried my love according to her wishes in a small cemetery where the aroma of the Black Sea always lingered, I left for the last time.¡±


    I bowed my head as he flipped through some old photos of what I assumed was that area. He set his hands on his knees. ¡°Eventually, they did catch the rebels, but they¡¯d destroyed all their records to escape justice. Rachel¡¯s case was essentially closed. Many of the adoption agencies didn¡¯t exist anymore. Digging through the files, whatever was left behind and managed by the provisional government was incredibly slow. And, despite my hopes, my mind told me that she was gone. Lost amongst the billions in this world or lost to life. I focused on Aura¡­¡±


    The photos shifted to an older Aura seated in a wheelchair. Her hand leaned against a stick control. The twinkle in her eyes from the younger snapshots diminished. The images showed birthdays. Her head leaned back with the jagged curl of a smile. Nurses lingered beside her in many of them.


    Feldon had plenty of joys to share about his daughter, ¡°Still active, no matter what. Always gripping her chair. Always finding ways to move what her body would let her. She¡¯d cry, take a breath, and then fight for the next inch. Her progress was such, that it was almost like a lower-level injury. She pushed and pushed. There were surgeries. Painful ones all through her childhood. It was too dangerous to remove the bullet fragments.¡±


    It almost seemed too much to bear. I couldn¡¯t imagine living such a life and still being able to smile. However, somehow, the wincing smiles vanished from the photos. She smiled genuine smiles. Relaxed smiles. And I noticed something as she got older.


    When I was young, I asked to see the family photo albums. My parents pulled them up on the computer. Plenty of when my parents were dating. A few they had to scroll through quickly, which drew blushes of embarrassment. Their wedding. A lot of the good times beneath yelled words and conflict. A conspicuous blank existed in my photos. No pictures of me as a newborn. No pregnancy photos of mom either. My pictures only emerged in the album when I was walking around. They stuffed me into the most abysmal pink dresses. Even then, I loathed them and would rip them any chance I got.


    But I remember those photos well. I remembered my face. Looking at pictures of Aura, I felt uncomfortable because it was like someone had taken a photo of my face, shifted a few of the details with an editing program, and planted it on a paralyzed body. Her hair was different from mine, but it was the same shade. Her nose was a little longer. Her brow cropped a little lower. No¡­it was bizarre, but it wasn¡¯t enough to trigger the next step. It wasn¡¯t enough for me to assume anything bigger than an odd feeling.


    Then, Feldon clicked to a new set of pictures. Aura was older, and she''d dyed her hair. It was a brilliant color of green, close to lime, with shades of her original hair showing through. Click by click, year by year, Aura was developing into someone I knew. Someone I¡¯d seen this morning with her legs broken under her. She looked just like Mari.


    I smacked my hands against the table, which drew Feldon¡¯s calm attention. I cleared my throat and declared, ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡­.restroom?¡±


    He frowned lightly but gestured the way for me with some quick directions. Once out of the conference room, I took a huge, slow, deep breath and tried to keep my knees from buckling. I went right to the men''s and dabbed my face with a moistened paper towel. I ran the hand dryers a bit. I tested the no-rinse soap. It burned but that felt strangely relaxing right then. In the mirror, I looked into my eyes.


    I saw those same eyes as in those photos. Almost like silver, almost starkly blue. With a touch of Lily¡¯s tea-like eyes instead of her dreams of chocolate. I resisted looking away. I tried the same smile as Aura. I tried the same smile as the rest.


    After the same design.


    I stared in the face of one looming, impossible notion which I put aside like a note in my notebook. I left it there in case I was going mad¡­or perhaps as proof I was. I had no idea. I stopped holding my breath and left the restroom.


    Once I was outside, I slowly started to breathe again with each step. With that, I also started to question. My parents have fought. My parents have had dark times. My parents have left me with enough issues to fill a book I never get around to writing. But they also have eyes like mine and dark hair. I¡¯m about the size of my mother when she was my age. My dad¡¯s face always makes me think of what I¡¯d like mine to look like. They have loved me for three decades.


    Adoption never came up. I have no other siblings and that¡¯s the way my parents wanted it to be. They were happy with me. And they definitely weren¡¯t rich enough to secret a random baby, which just happened to resemble them, from Europe through the criminal underworld. It was absolutely ridiculous!


    My head rose, and I strode confidently back to the conference room, reassured in myself. On the screen, Feldon had a chart with dates, names, and other information. I snapped a quick picture of it and settled back in my seat. He asked me if I was fine and I waved a relaxed hand.


    Feldon clicked back to Aura at her most Mari-like and continued, ¡°What you just saw there was decades of detective work. But we¡¯ll get to that. First, I want to talk a little more about Aura¡­¡±


    I jumped in quickly, ¡°I apologize, but you brought me here with lies and misleading statements for what goal? What¡¯s the purpose of all this?¡±


    Feldon looked momentarily flustered before he cleared his throat and told me, ¡°I am getting to that. If you want to know, then you need to understand what¡¯s come before. I didn¡¯t want for it to be this way. But I made the choice and yes, I misled you and withheld information. I want you to see why, right here¡­please¡­¡±


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    I had every right to jump up and leave without a word, his plans dashed to pieces. But I stayed because I was still curious about Mari and where she fit. I leaned back in my chair as a show of momentary concession and Feldon began again.


    ¡°She wanted to get into the Vienna Paralympics. She even got classification but missed out on the team. That was an exhausting year for all of us since my father-in-law developed a severe form of palsy. He made the best of it. He would sit with Aura, and she would smile with him. They would have little races. She had so many dreams. She wanted to write about all sorts of things¡­typing diligently by mouth stick. And I wanted, more than anything, for her not to have to struggle so much¡­¡±


    I bowed my head and noted, ¡°So, that¡¯s where Mantlemay comes in.¡±


    He cast his eyes downwards. ¡°Mantlemay, certain prototypes, and the ranch had been around for some time. Not as nice as it is now, but our efforts were already making a difference in the world. I thought I might also make a difference in my daughter¡¯s life. She responded well at first to Memetic Crystalline in an earlier form. But we were still figuring out spinal cord injuries with it. We still are. Everyone is a little different.¡±


    Clenching his fists, he continued, ¡°Four years ago, it was a cool April morning and she was over for a physical. I stopped by to say hello. She was smiling, chatting, thinking aloud about what movie she might see with her grandfather over the weekend. Then....she went quiet. I¡¯d glanced over at her chart. I figured she was just lost in thought. Then the nurse yelled her name and started to shake her. We had an excellent cardiologist who happened to be visiting. She should¡¯ve survived. But she never woke up again¡­¡±


    Feldon leaned back and said, not even really talking to me anymore, ¡°It¡¯s funny. I read the literature about mortality in those with spinal cord neurological injuries over time. I weighed each with a doctor¡¯s mind knowing some could come at any age but, as a father, I felt it was impossible we could ever lose her. She¡­fought¡­for every day¡­she fought. She lived every single day. She survived what killed her mother, sister, and twenty others just going about their day. She survived¡­.and then she died. It couldn¡¯t be. It just couldn¡¯t be¡­¡±


    He clenched his jaw. ¡°I was angry. I was so¡­so angry. Fuck...whatever or whoever decided that was how her life would go. She didn¡¯t fucking deserve it. I¡­ME¡­I was already an old man. I¡¯d done what I wanted. I¡¯d buried my wife and my daughter and feared every moment for another. My last child¡­if I could take¡­¡±


    Feldon was trembling, all the clinical decorum passed away. He hacked up the words. He paused over his chest like he intended to tear his heart from it.


    ¡°¡­If I could take every day to come for me and give them to her...I would¡¯ve keeled over right there to know she would live to now and beyond¡­¡± The passion and the fury passed, leaving his body limp and drained as he added, ¡°But I could do nothing.¡±


    It was hard to keep my arms folded and my body tense. Feldon stood before me, in agony, with his past laid bare like a scraped wound still throbbing. However, the questions still loomed. Nothing so far had resolved them but for a vague notion I didn¡¯t like thinking about.


    He returned to, ¡°Four years. And despite all those years before¡­I didn¡¯t stop looking for little Rachel. I went through so many old FOIA papers of adoption agencies that had been prosecuted for criminal activity. The papers from Odessa and the papers from here seemed so far apart. Those were dark times. Not just for me but for my whole family. But the light finally came.¡±


    One click. Just one click. I didn¡¯t know what I was seeing at first. Two pages spread across the screen with all the fine detail photocopied. One side was a blue-and-white birth certificate covered in Cyrillic script I couldn¡¯t read, with a photograph at the top. The other side was my own birth certificate. The same photo was attached to both files. My photo. Rachel¡¯s photo.


    Folding his hands, Feldon read the names. ¡°Anna Melnyk, born in Reni¡­.Leslie Perkins, born in Oxnard.¡±


    I bolted from my chair. He wasn¡¯t the first person to get my name before, my actual name. But this time was just an accent on top of a heap of impossible things. We regarded each other eye to eye and I asked him, trying to keep as much panic out of my voice as possible, ¡°What is this?¡±


    He gestured to the screen. ¡°This¡­is the culmination of years¡­decades of tedious work to connect buried records. This¡­and dozens of documents like it show how Rachel Feldon became Anna Melnyk to criminal and corrupt organizations and how Anna became Leslie to Nancy and Roger Perkins of Ventura, three decades ago.¡±


    My back bristled as he named my parents. I pressed a hand against the table. On one level, what he was saying made sense to me. I knew documents could be forged, especially in the current era, but the faces loomed above them. They told me the story even before he did. I could doubt them too, but I just couldn¡¯t comprehend the reason for such a massive pattern of deception.


    I tried to look at Feldon and see something of my face. Not that I studied my face. But I didn¡¯t see it. All I could think of was my dad, Roger. The curious looks I often traced after. The studious furrow of his brow. Folded arms. Skepticism. All the rest¡­


    I responded sharply, ¡°Bullshit¡­and how dare you¡­.how fucking dare you do all this¡­for what?¡± I let my voice creep up the way it naturally did when I wasn¡¯t trying to make it manly.


    Feldon clenched his jaw and brushed at his hair. He looked away from me. ¡°I know¡­there is much to process. I assure you this is not some game to find someone, anyone to fill a hole in my life. This is my life. This stands here as certain as anything I have done.¡±


    I pressed the table and pushed off. He didn¡¯t follow me as I left the room. I bubbled up with my feet mashing into the floor. My thoughts flew like a swarm of birds striking one another. Slamming my fist into the nearest bare wall was so feeble beside my feelings. I wanted blast rays and telekinesis and other destructive powers that could only be imagined. I wanted to rip everything apart, tear it all down in one swoop.


    I stomped and swore and undulated through the hallway. If anyone noticed me then I didn¡¯t know it until Mari stood right in front of me.


    She wore clothes similar to earlier and her legs were mended as though nothing had happened to them. Her eyes bent up with a flash of surprise. I held back my scowl and asked her, ¡°What?¡±


    Mari tipped her head and gave a little grimace, as she took a step back. ¡°Uh¡­I was summoned for¡­something.¡±


    I offered, ¡°By Feldon?¡±


    Her eyes narrowed again as she remarked, ¡°Something like that. What¡¯s up with you?¡±


    ¡°He told me about Aura Feldon.¡±


    All I needed to say. Mari seemed to go limp. She looked me in the eye but with an expression somewhere between bitterness and resignation. Who she meant those feelings for, I wasn¡¯t sure.


    After a pause, she said, ¡°So, that¡¯s why¡­.You wanna talk or you wanna beat something up?¡±

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 14: Together

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 14: Together


    It wasn¡¯t even a contest. Mari led me to a small gym at the other end of the rear hall. She explained it was an employee thing but cozier than the other facilities. She brought me over to a punching bag hanging on a metal chain. It didn¡¯t take long for both of us to put gloves on. With a gesture, Mari invited me to take the first swing. It was a feeble strike that barely made it move.


    My next one was a little better. I could feel the pressure of the bag fighting back against me. I pushed harder until I got a regular rhythm going. Clenching my teeth, I slammed the bag and bashed it with my leg. It still didn¡¯t really do much.


    Mari raised an eyebrow. ¡°I thought you were just holding back on the track¡­¡± I gave her a quick stink-eye and she raised her hands in answer before continuing, ¡°Anyway, it helps sometimes¡­when nothing else does.¡± I plopped on a mat to the side, out of breath, and a little achy.


    She took her turn at the bag. She started one-two, whipping the bag back and forth like it was a toy. It quivered and yanked on the chain, threatening to break. Then she slammed her legs on either side of it and bashed her foot across the front till it flipped over its chains and tangled up in them. She wasn¡¯t panting or sweating.


    After disentangling the bag, she came to sit with me. I noted, ¡°Those are a better pair of legs than earlier.¡± She glanced down at them and flexed out a foot.


    ¡°I guess so. Sometimes, they give me a weaker, breakaway pair so I stop at just destroying limbs.¡± She slapped at her thigh and sighed to herself.


    Silence passed between us. I wasn¡¯t sure if I wanted to go another round, but I knew it would be even more embarrassing. So, I tried for words. ¡°He said that Aura Feldon died.¡±


    Mari clenched her jaw and said sharply, but without anger, ¡°I was there.¡±


    I kept my eyes on her and added, ¡°You look just like her.¡±


    Slowly, Mari pulled her legs up to her stomach. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Because I¡¯m an old fool who said ¡®yes¡¯.¡±


    I shifted my legs but couldn¡¯t find a comfortable spot that didn¡¯t ache. ¡°So, you¡¯re¡­a synthetic copy of her then?¡±


    With a little snort through her nose, Mari remarked, ¡°If only it were that simple. I¡¯m her grandfather, Michael Raymer.¡± She gestured to herself casually before letting her hands drop. Her eyes calmly searched me.


    I sat there quietly. A young girl who looked like a teenager said that. A young girl with brightly-shimmering mint-green hair hanging off her neck. A young girl with a hyper-athletic body which tore like taffy but barely cleared five feet in height. A young girl with eyes I should¡¯ve recognized immediately, and which loomed as unnaturally as Lily¡¯s. I cleared my throat and gave her a look. She widened her eyes in return.


    I glanced down, resisted freaking out, and mentioned, ¡°He said you two were close.¡±


    Mari brushed a hand up and down her legs. ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    I kept quiet to invite her next words. She looked uncomfortable, but eventually sighed and stated, ¡°Well, shit¡­I don¡¯t know how much he¡¯s told you, but I should say¡­Umm¡­Soon after the attack, Liz, my wife¡­your¡­err¡­well, Aura¡¯s grandmother. Well¡­she loved everyone. and the loss was just too much¡­Feldon probably doesn¡¯t like to talk about that. I don¡¯t either¡­But there¡¯s not a day I don¡¯t think about her.¡±


    She cleared her throat and smacked her legs a little before adding, ¡°I always¡­connected with the women in my life so much more than with any of my brothers or my father. So¡­¡±


    Without hint or permission, I wrapped my arms completely around Mari in a sudden hug. It still felt odd, like when I held her before, but I ignored that. I never call myself the hugging type. I found myself discriminating between perfunctory and fake ones with family. But that moment felt right.


    As I let go, I could sense Mari trembling in my grasp. Looking at her, I could see the shifting of a fair blush across her cheeks. Her eyes twitched like mine, but with the same sensation that crying was just a moment away, as I saw with Lily¡¯s ¡®tears¡¯.


    She gave a quick, breathless, ¡°Sorry¡­¡± before noting, ¡°Crying isn¡¯t really something they¡¯ve figured out yet.¡±


    I assured her, ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±


    Touching her face, she cleared her throat and said, her lips wavering between words, ¡°So¡­yeah, I was close to Aura. I was close to Liz too. So very close. And May. And Dalya. So close. But I didn¡¯t cry then. Not when I found out what happened. I couldn¡¯t. It was just too much, like a part of yourself has been ripped from your body but no one can see it on the outside. The empty cavity is there, and it just keeps filling with blood¡­with your life. I didn¡¯t want to do anything. I¡¯d sleep endlessly. I¡¯d wander in a daze. If I¡¯d been different around her perhaps Liz wo¡­.but there¡¯s no point wondering now.¡±


    I set a hand on Mari/Michael¡¯s shoulder. Still, it was easier to think of her as Greenie more than any other name. I could relate with the emptiness along with the confusion of being dumped into a situation I barely understood and told I had relatives I never imagined before, only they were broken and lost. I felt naturally sad, but fuller emotions were difficult, along with words that didn¡¯t feel hollow or helpless.


    We were both sinking, so I decided to flip things. I told her, ¡°Aura sounds amazing.¡± I just had fragments, but it was clear from Feldon¡¯s tone that he was proud of her.


    A measure of somberness melted from Greenie. She didn¡¯t hold her legs quite so tight. ¡°I¡¯m alive because of her. I lived longer and better than I could¡¯ve hoped for because of her. She got me out of bed.¡±


    We heard a knock on the door. Greenie called out and jumped to her feet. It was Feldon, with his hands folded behind him. His eyes found me first. I jumped up and wandered away from the door.


    Feldon looked to Mari with a quick nod and cleared his throat to address me, ¡°I apologize. I simply wanted you to understand. I didn¡¯t mean for you to get upset.¡±


    I placed my back against the wall and addressed both of them, ¡°Think about it from my perspective. I have a family which I¡¯ve known all my life. Then, suddenly, out of the blue I get a job to interview someone and that someone throws mysteries around me and starts leading me on that I¡¯m actually¡­related to them. With all the deception, with all the half-truths and silence to questions¡­do you really think I¡¯d jump onboard?¡±


    Both of them winced a little at that and Feldon admitted, ¡°Some of that is because¡­quite honestly, I am as incredulous as you. After all these decades of nothing, my doubts are still many. There is only one way to put a rest to it¡­¡±


    I had a sense of where he was going. I thought back and noted, ¡°The tissue sample you took from me.¡±


    Feldon gave a passive shake of his head as he said, ¡°It would verify everything. Each of our children was DNA tested at birth for medical concerns. Rachel¡¯s DNA was unique to the point a simple test should show enough. But we will run further tests to alleviate any doubt.¡±


    I took a breath and said, ¡°Of course, all I can be sure of is my own DNA. I can¡¯t be sure your record isn¡¯t just a copy of mine¡­.can I?¡± In truth, I wasn¡¯t even sure of my own DNA. My parents never opted to get me tested and had to pay higher insurance fees when I was growing up. They cited strange reasons, but I always wondered about it. With the implication my DNA would be ¡®unique¡¯, I wondered even more. I had considered testing myself when I started living on my own, but I never got around to it.


    Feldon folded his hands and told me, ¡°We also had her DNA filed with the government here and in Ukraine. Unfortunately, the documents in Ukraine were lost at some point during the upheaval of the civil war. But the government has Rachel Feldon on record and filed away back when she was born. That record is only accessible with a matching, live DNA sample provided. You give your DNA to them, they check it and they will allow you to see the record and everything which was sealed for you alone. Is that proof enough?¡±


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    He had me there. I¡¯d done a bit of research on DNA records to try to counter my parents and their skepticism. I almost got around to writing a story. Once a DNA sample was sealed in government records it might as well be etched on a monument. People could spoof SSNs with the right knowledge of death records and a sob story. But only your own individual key could open the vault of government DNA samples. Whether this was good or not had been argued a long time by privacy advocates.


    I conceded to Feldon, especially if everything was tested and handled by me, this would be enough. Really though, the proof still felt like it was right before me, but it was lost in emotion. If I wanted to stand on something solid, then I needed this.


    My compromise to Feldon¡¯s proposal of testing my DNA was this, ¡°I¡¯ll give a fresh sample and make sure it gets sent where it needs to go. If it turns out I¡¯m not a match for Rachel then¡­.well¡­.that¡¯ll be that. But, if it is a match, then I will accept what you¡¯ve said to me¡­about my parents and everything¡­is true. Deal?¡±


    Swiftly, Feldon agreed, ¡°Of course.¡±


    It would take longer than something at the clinic, but I knew a place near where I lived that did simple procedures just for this kind of government verification. If I left soon, then they could get the sample processed, and I¡¯d have an answer by evening.


    What to do in the meanwhile with all these questions? That was the tough part.


    As I was mulling this, Greenie took a step towards me and said, ¡°I¡¯ll go with you.¡±


    I gave her a look and then glanced over at Feldon. He wore a small furrow of what appeared to be concern. She looked to Feldon as well and told him, ¡°I should be fine for a few hours at least¡­out and about.¡±


    Feldon¡¯s expression didn¡¯t relax, but he did offer, ¡°Should be. Hopefully.¡±


    Greenie gave a tap of her foot. ¡°That¡¯s settled then. You came in a car, right?¡±


    I felt like I was being swept up by a wave, but I had no objections to Greenie coming with me. Before I knew it, we were standing over my car as I opened it. I apologized, with my head down, for the mess. Greenie noticed. She looked at it with narrowed eyes and a skeptical slant to her mouth. The clouds, which loomed at the edges of the sky before, now spread across it. An indifferent wind curled around us with a promise of raindrops.


    With a little work, I was able to clear things enough that she had her choice of the passenger seat or the rear. She wound up sprawling across the entire backseat with her arms behind her head and a lap belt splitting her.


    As I gave the destination to the car, she commented, ¡°I never liked self-driving. Aura kinda liked it, but she wanted a hand-controlled car someday, a real fast one.¡±


    I swiveled around to better talk to Greenie as the car pulled itself out of the lot. ¡°It¡¯s gotten pretty universal. Now it¡¯s a luxury to actually drive.¡±


    She brushed back some of her hair and noted, staring through the side window, ¡°I know. I read. I go online. I keep up on stuff even though I¡¯m usually around the ranch.¡±


    I turned my chair a bit more and asked, ¡°Is it because of your synthetic body?¡±


    Greenie flashed me a look, as she noted, ¡°I never told you my body was synthetic or not. But I do have issues that require a lot of checkups to make sure nothing is going wrong.¡±


    Leaning forward, I had to ask, ¡°You aren¡¯t going to keel over all of a sudden, are you?¡±


    She gave a faint snort. ¡°No. I¡¯m not that weak. But I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m not the final version...so sometimes, there are problems¡­¡±


    I flopped my head against the chair. ¡°Still more secrets to keep?¡±


    We passed a rough patch of gravel and she adjusted herself. ¡°You call them secrets. I call them endless threads of explanation. I¡¯ve found it¡¯s better to just keep quiet, say only what I have to, and let people decide what they want to think on their own.¡±


    Stating the obvious, I remarked, ¡°You don¡¯t really have many people you¡¯re close to.¡±


    Finally, she seemed to discover a position that suited her. ¡°I¡¯ve told you about that. But yeah, especially now. There¡¯s just the nurses, Feldon most days, and Lily.¡±


    Raising an eyebrow, I couldn¡¯t let that last bit go unquestioned. ¡°Lily? We haven¡¯t really resolved where she fits in all this¡­¡±


    Tipping her head back, Greenie muttered, ¡°Complicated. Let¡¯s just say ¡®family¡¯ and we can fill in the details later.¡±


    I suspected as much and accepted that. Likely in the same or a similar situation to Greenie. With little crackles to start, rain began to splatter the window. The car switched on all the wipers at slow but steady intervals and made other adjustments.


    I asked, ¡°So since you don¡¯t get out of the ranch much¡­is there anywhere you¡¯d like to visit? My place¡­a special restaurant¡­a clothing store¡­¡± I watched Greenie very carefully as I spoke. Yeah, I was baiting her but just out of curiosity.


    With my proposal, she began on a calm expression which drifted into a sense of thoughtful ease. At ¡®my place¡¯, her body arched up a little, even though she still lay spread out. With ¡®restaurant¡¯, she settled. Hard to read that. But the last bit, ¡®clothing¡¯, left ripples in her demeanor as she shifted, as though something uncomfortable had been suddenly placed beneath her.


    As she gave her answer, she looked out the window and tried to resist physical tells. ¡°Up to you. Your car and your time. Your place probably... looks about like your car, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    She had me there but at least the places where I worked and relaxed were organized enough. I let her have a shrug and offered, ¡°Place to eat then?¡±


    Greenie sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t bother.¡±


    The rain now came in waves, like the undulation of a wind-urged curtain of water. Gradually, the car slowed. It was a feature. Adverse weather conditions rarely did anything to impair auto-drive (if it did, then the car would definitely tell me), but it was human nature to feel more comfortable with driving slower in rain.


    How Greenie was stretched out on the backseat didn¡¯t look all that comfortable. In fact, it looked intentionally uncomfortable. Still, she showed no outward signs of discomfort. She¡¯d suggested that, along with other things, she didn¡¯t feel pain like a normal person. Naturally, I asked, ¡°So, you don¡¯t need to eat then?¡±


    She was dipping back into Greenie mode from yesterday with her answer, ¡°You could say that.¡±


    I rested my head on a hand and pointed out, ¡°Lily eats.¡±


    Greenie rocked her head with the car over the rising and dipping waves of the road. ¡°That she does.¡± Her emphasis made me think Lily was the prolific confection aficionado I imagined.


    So, I managed to get to the next question, ¡°Is it possible for you to eat without trouble?¡±


    She confirmed this clearly with a nod and a quick, ¡°Yes.¡±


    And finally, ¡°Sooo¡­would you like to go eat somewhere with me this afternoon?¡±


    I got a look back from her, which dipped into annoyance. ¡°I told you not to bother. If *you* need to stop somewhere though, I can wait in the car.¡±


    Eyeballing Greenie, I gave her back my own measure of annoyance. I could see the old man in there a little better. Not that it dissuaded me. ¡°I can¡¯t leave you in the car. I refuse to. That¡¯s it. So, you¡¯re going to have a meal with me and you¡¯re going shopping.¡±


    She locked eyes with me and inquired, ¡°So¡­I have no choice in this?¡±


    ¡°You owe it to me for being mean up till now and, if it turns out we¡¯re related, you owe me time with my grandfather.¡±


    Pausing as the rain became distorted, hot static against all of the windows, Greenie answered, ¡°Fair enough. Don¡¯t expect much.¡±


    I nodded to that and listened for a while to the sounds of the storm. They were turbulent, pushed against the surface of the car, but still chaotically enjoyable. I asked her about the storm.


    ¡°We randomly get a lot out here. Sometimes, I¡¯ll purposely go running in it all the way up past the tree line till I get over the next hill. I once wound up falling and sheering off a leg. I was able to hop back.¡±


    Leaning back, I offered, ¡°I never go running. It¡¯s probably obvious¡­¡±


    Before I could say more, Greenie affirmed, ¡°It is.¡±

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 15: In the Rain

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 15: In the Rain


    I cleared my throat and went on, ¡°But...I will sometimes go walking when the fog rolls in after midnight in my area.¡±


    Greenie raised a brilliant eyebrow and inquired, ¡°What¡¯s your area like? It¡¯s not that safe to go out after midnight...anywhere¡­¡±


    Now she was beginning to sound like a relative. I assured her, ¡°It¡¯s a decent area, lots of little parks and stuff despite being near the sprawl of five counties.¡±


    She still appeared skeptical but didn¡¯t press me, except to say, ¡°Just be safe.¡±


    I smiled and leaned forward, as I changed the subject, ¡°So¡­why did you want to come with me?¡±


    Greenie had wrapped the belt around her so tightly I was surprised she could move at all, let alone turn to tell me, ¡°I wanted to do something.¡±


    I chimed in, ¡°Running at record speeds not enough?¡±


    She folded herself forward. ¡°That¡¯s more like a hamster wheel. The ranch is nice, but it¡¯s still got nurses and doctors and people who ask me how I¡¯m feeling every day.¡±


    The rain on the windows had shifted to a rough, wind-tossed spittle. I stretched my fingers and asked her simply, ¡°Why not leave then?¡±


    Greenie brushed at her scalp but didn¡¯t rub. I had to wonder if it was made of the same material as her legs. She took a moment before answering.


    ¡°It has lots of nurses, doctors, and smart people nearby. Besides¡­what if I don¡¯t have anywhere else left?¡±


    I curled my lips inward before asking her, ¡°You don¡¯t?¡±


    She shut her eyes. ¡°How old do you think I am?¡±


    I smirked privately and asked, ¡°Do you want me to be honest or kind?¡±


    Greenie gave me a half-hearted shrug. I proposed, ¡°One-hundred and sixty.¡±


    That got her to open her eyes and glare at me. ¡°And I¡¯d heard you were a smart reporter. I¡¯d have to be part of some secret society to be alive at that age¡­¡±


    I leaned back and noted, ¡°You do look good for someone in your 80s though.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow and commented, ¡°Better. Not exact but better. But you see my problem. My real home was lost¡­destroyed three decades ago. I¡¯ve just been hanging on since, because of the charity of those left behind.¡±


    I straightened and looked her in the eye. ¡°Are you dying right now?¡±


    Carefully, she looked up at the ceiling. She didn¡¯t meet my eyes. But her tone didn¡¯t give me a sense of deception, as she said, ¡°I¡¯m not dying right now. At least, I don¡¯t know if I am. But then¡­she didn¡¯t know either.¡±


    The rain above and all around us intensified. Pressing my hands on my knees, I didn''t let up either. "Then why do you carry this feeling like you¡¯re resigned to death? Sure, it sounds like you need a body tune-up at the ranch every so often. So, if you aren¡¯t dying right now, are you living right now? Are you?¡± My words came out a little harsher and more indignant than I wanted.


    Still, after what I¡¯d seen in the ranch¡­After I¡¯d seen people in so many harsh conditions fighting for their next moment while awake and aware and bursting with promise and hope for the moments to come, where a generation ago there wouldn¡¯t have been any¡­by comparison, Greenie made it seem like she was stuck in a prison sentence.


    I was going to hold back, but I couldn¡¯t. I told her about those people. I spilled my words like the rivulets of rain draining off the car. I told her about each of them by name like I sometimes pitched stories via video connection. She braced herself but didn¡¯t waver under my words.


    I finished, ¡°And then there¡¯s you. Aura was important to you. She sounded energetic and optimistic and eager for life even up to the moment that life stopped. Now, I don¡¯t know why you have a body like hers or that green hair. But¡­for Aura¡­why would you treat a single moment of your life like it¡¯s not worth living?¡±


    Her face steadily began to twitch. Actual tears this time, but they just seemed to pool around her eyes like she was in micro-gravity. She dashed them away to fall against the seat. When she found words, she said, ¡°There¡¯s me¡­ Fuck it all, I know! I KNOW! She was so much better than me. This one time, I made up a t-shirt that said ¡®I Wanna Be Like Aura¡¯. She thought I was just cheering her up, but it was for me. I didn¡¯t want to be a broken, bitter old man¡­I didn¡¯t¡­¡±


    I slipped out of my chair with a click of my belt and rushed over to hug her. She protested about safety laws and everything, but I had faith enough in my car to take at least this moment.


    I whispered to her, ¡°You don¡¯t have to be anything you don¡¯t want to be. I mean¡­look at you. You¡¯re not even a man anymore¡­¡±


    Softly, she muttered, ¡°Neither are you¡­¡±


    Okay, that (though oddly-phrased) was like an arrow through the chest, but she did have a point. Change and choice has its limit. I assured her though, ¡°But I haven¡¯t let that stop me.¡±


    She dipped her head slightly. ¡°You¡¯re right¡­.sorry.¡±


    I waved a hand. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I mean¡­I don¡¯t know your¡­biology and all that.¡±


    Greenie turned away and hid a cough.


    I leaned forward with an eyebrow raised. ¡°Hmm¡­I mean, assuming how much of you is synthetic¡­it wouldn¡¯t really matter biologically but appearance-wise¡­should I assume you look¡­¡±


    She grunted and hid her face from growing bright red.


    I presented the statement, ¡°So then¡­if you were naked¡­¡±


    Jerking her head back towards me, she snapped, ¡°We will not discuss me naked now or ever!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t resist an unrestrained laugh which rose higher and more girlish in sound than I preferred. After stomping her feet on the cushions, Greenie buried herself in an uncomfortable ball of fake flesh and clothes.


    Leaning back, my eyes rested on the roof of the car. ¡°It sounds amazing though. Synthetic parts¡­break a leg, get a new one attached.¡±


    She shot a look my way and murmured, ¡°It¡¯s not so great if you¡¯re the lab rat for it.¡±


    I pressed my legs together and pointed out, ¡°You volunteered.¡±


    With a tense hiss of air through her mouth, she answered, ¡°Stupidly.¡±


    It was lingering in my questions and suppositions. I could guess, but I had to know. So, I asked, ¡°It¡¯s most of your body, isn¡¯t it? All synthetic, probably some derivative of Cellular-D and Memetic Crystalline and stuff like that. Am I right?¡±


    She didn¡¯t have to answer me, and she¡¯d rebuffed me before. She didn¡¯t even need to give me a response aside from silence or a hint to move on to something else. If she¡¯d responded that way, then I would¡¯ve dropped it. But she turned to look at me and curled her lips down as the car hopped a slow bump in the road filled with swollen puddles. The splattering rain had dwindled to streaks on the slow, metronomic wipers.


    ¡°It¡¯s everything. All of me.¡±


    On some level, it¡¯s exactly what I expected. I mean, why else would everyone be so hush-hush about it? Remaking a body into something entirely synthetic. With the durability and mutability of the materials used, it meant big things. Stuff I reeled to even comprehend.


    I wasn¡¯t quite ready to swallow it just like that. I pressed, ¡°Everything? Even your brain?¡±


    She rested a hand against her head, touching her jade locks. ¡°That was actually the first thing. I had a degenerative disease. I sat in a wheelchair near Aura¡¯s. It was¡­terrifying. I could almost feel my mind¡­my everything¡­eaten up as they treated me¡­.and then¡­¡±


    The pause was excruciating. I couldn¡¯t imagine it. A whole brain made of Memetic Crystalline. How could it even work?


    Her body relaxed in the bench as she blinked a few times slowly and continued, ¡°I expected shock. I expected to become like a robot. I expected to change. But it was all the same. In fact, the fog lifted. It was easier to remember and react to things. Easier to make connections. Like having a good rest. But that was really all that seemed to change for me.¡± She conceded a shrug.


    I leaned back. Greenie didn¡¯t look different than any normal human. Her skin was perfectly fine. Although, from what I¡¯d seen of her, it seemed she didn¡¯t sweat and her tear ducts had some oddities. And eating was possible but not needed. So, where did she get her energy?


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    I put this question to her. She didn¡¯t seem bothered by it, so much as wary. After a moment, she told me, ¡°That¡¯s stuff I let Feldon and the others worry about. So long as I can keep moving, it doesn¡¯t concern me.¡±


    That was about as good an answer as I was going to get. Sifting through all the information I had, I eventually came to the next obvious connection, as I noted, ¡°So then, Lily is the same way¡­she¡¯s fully synthetic too?¡±


    Greenie sighed and bent her head to the window. Rain, a little stronger than before, blurred all but the muddy-brown outline of the desert. ¡°You could say Lily was the trailblazer, but I feel awkward to talk in her place when you should just ask her.¡±


    I made a note to do that as soon as possible. I¡¯d cleared the path of mysteries, but there were so many details to refine, so many things that kindled my inquisitive spirit. I wanted to know about what it was like when Greenie first changed¡­when she first stopped being Michael and became Greenie, or rather Mari. Was it like being a living doll? Did she still feel human? What about gender identity? What about¡­


    I let my chaotic field of questions relax. While the girl before me was a mystery at the bleeding edge of medical technology, at the same time I knew she was a person as well. She might even be my biological grandfather reborn into a different body.


    Leaving the mysteries to their crystalline-preserved status, I shifted my curiosity to ask her, ¡°Tell me more about Aura. Tell me about the happy days¡­.Tell me¡­would she have liked me?¡±


    That last bit definitely got her attention. She looked amused as she said, ¡°So much to say. There were many happy days, I can¡¯t deny those. And as for Aura¡­absolutely.¡±


    Gently, slowly, Greenie painted the picture of Aura which Feldon had begun in broad strokes for me, filled in with all her memories. Pistachio ice cream (which I couldn¡¯t stand) was her favorite. Her favorite place to visit was along the northern coast. I¡¯d been there a few times, randomly with family. I wondered if any time when I was there, that she had been there too, just a step and a half ahead of me. No way to tell. But I did admire the same seascape.


    I smirked at some of the books she enjoyed and rolled my eyes at others. We weren¡¯t a match but that meant nothing. As we spoke, I could visualize Aura sitting in the driver¡¯s seat beside me, wanting to take charge of the wheel. I could imagine her breaking the rules of the modern road and hacking the controls to force the car over a few of the grander bumps to catch a moment of stomach-sinking free fall. I could imagine her rolling in to take charge of a room. I could see myself beside her observing, quiet but curious. And I could feel her hand dragging me along to some very interesting person I had to meet right then. I¡¯d flash her a look of annoyance, but I¡¯d be soon thankful as the moment was better than just watching.


    I imagined her putting a mustache on my face as I dressed up in my manly state. I could see her amusement but also her tenacity to be the best. I could see her rise up from her chair and bolt across the track, even keeping pace with Greenie. What word I came up with long and careful thought to distract Greenie would be off Aura¡¯s tongue with a whip¡¯s flash. Of course, this was all in my head, translated from my own expectations of a sister, with Greenie¡¯s choice moments melded together.


    We were just past the first time Aura got a crossbow, when the desert had given way to the city. The worst of the rain faded, not so much ending as sublimating away.


    The car alarm noted our destination wouldn¡¯t be far. Greenie cleared her throat, finishing, ¡°She was truly remarkable. And she deserved better. She deserved to be sitting here with you, not me.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°No need to pick. I¡¯d have both of you.¡±


    Sighing to herself, Greenie conceded a little nod and said, ¡°Yeah¡­well, in the end, I¡¯m here and she isn¡¯t and nothing¡¯s going to change that.¡±


    I leaned with a slow turn and told her, ¡°She may not be here, but you are and you keep her memory alive. That¡¯s something.¡±


    Greenie¡¯s vast eyes barely seemed a sliver of light and color as she pierced them down at herself. ¡°But is it enough?¡±


    I had no answer there, but we were already at the testing facility.


    It was a ways out of town but the first stop on our trip. I knew the people who ran it, so it wasn¡¯t too much trouble to arrange for a spur of the moment test. Even in this modern age, we couldn¡¯t get instantaneous results like in old movies, but the basic resolution would be available in just a few hours, assuming I didn¡¯t hit their backlog too hard. I offered to pay but it was clear they could only work as hard as the chemicals and equipment were able to. The rest was just patience and a few swabs.


    I returned to Greenie standing beneath an overhang as a lingering drizzle dripped off the edge of it. She assured me she was fine in the rain. Still, I wanted to hold an umbrella above her, if only as a courtesy.


    The next stop was further in town and a bit more nervous for me. Home, what I¡¯d made of it apart from what I¡¯d considered my family before today. My place, the last in a row of bland townhouses with a regular pattern of gray and white, got a few curious looks from Greenie before she made her way out of the car again.


    I unlocked the old fashioned way without biometric or the app, a metal key sliding against metal. Greenie lingered in the front hallway, inspecting the small stone place with a couple different shoes set aside. We both set our shoes aside and stepped up onto the dense, tan carpet.


    Not quite sure what to do, I gestured a little to the walls where I had framed images of family along with some of my first articles and vistas I¡¯d photographed and enjoyed enough to keep. There weren¡¯t special commendations of merit from any of my schools to show off, nor were there any awards from some journalistic organization. I didn¡¯t even have honorable mentions leftover from grade-school art.


    Greenie¡¯s eyes dipped over to inspect them before shifting to the next sight. I tidied up the kitchen as casually as possible without trying to appear nervous. I offered all sorts of refreshments, which Greenie politely declined. I cursed the clothing and crap across the living room furniture, though I was glad I¡¯d recently vacuumed, as I turned on a scented device.


    Naturally, Greenie went right for the most dust-caked shelf possible to glance at a precarious reservoir of grey-capped fuzz. I dashed a brush over that with an uncomfortable laugh, as I tried, ¡°Those¡­yeah, those are more a collection than work books.¡± I shuddered to think what state my stored record collection was in.


    Running the brush over them only propelled more dust into the air. She cast a blinking glance at me and noted, ¡°I like books, but it got easier for me to read off a device later on. Now, I can read anything¡­¡±


    I inquired about that. She told me to pick up anything, take several steps back, and point to a line. I did so and listened as she recited everything on the small-text page without squinting or even adjusting her gaze. She remarked, ¡°That¡¯s simple. There are physical, optical limits to vision but mine is pretty sharp.¡±


    I glanced down at the book and found I couldn¡¯t even make everything out when holding it at arm¡¯s length. I noted, ¡°You don¡¯t sound excited by this¡­¡± I would be. Supersight!


    She stuffed her hands in her pockets. ¡°It¡¯s how I see. It¡¯s good but what can I use it for? All I can see are old pictures of those I love who are gone.¡±


    I dipped my shoulders and mentioned to her, ¡°You can take a look at me.¡±


    ¡°I am, but I¡¯m greedy.¡±


    In a way, I was prepared to learn I was this long-lost child. If I wasn¡¯t, I was prepared for that as well. I didn¡¯t want to cut off myself from Greenie. I didn¡¯t really have any older relatives, especially any who were as youthful as Greenie. I had broken, old memories of grandparents but who knew if those were reliable, bolstered by parents.


    I was greedy too. I wanted a grandparent like Greenie¡­like Mari.

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 16: Aura

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 16: Aura


    After the books, she wound her way over to some of my other collections. There were games which even she was familiar with, noting bluntly, ¡°They sucked.¡± She added, ¡°Still worth it though¡± with a nostalgic grin. At each turn, I had classic images, cards, or artifacts to show her which were among my better kept and cared for possessions. Not a peep from me about those records though.


    At a certain point, she gave me a wry look and said, ¡°You know, when I called you a hipster, I didn¡¯t realize you actually were one.¡± We exchanged looks at that, and I told her, ¡°And I didn¡¯t realize you were really afraid.¡±


    She snorted and found a spot to sit on the couch which wasn¡¯t cluttered. ¡°I thought you¡¯d just get annoyed and go away.¡±


    ¡°You were far too interesting a mystery for that.¡±


    She rested against the cushions. ¡°I¡¯m just a stupid old man.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t resist resting against her there. She was solid and firm, with a faint smell which seemed more like she¡¯d picked it up from the upholstery than produced it herself but wavered in my embrace. I was gurgling with hunger. Her stomach was mute. I thought of an old movie where a synthetic human tried to eat, and they began to break. I put this question before Greenie.


    She shook her head, ¡°I don¡¯t know quite how it works, but I¡¯m able to eat and keep food. The Memetic Crystalline is involved in how I¡¯m able to move, but food isn¡¯t necessary. It can even take a fair amount of energy for my body to process it. Still, I suppose I wouldn¡¯t mind going somewhere with you to eat¡­¡±


    I had a couple choices in mind. Greenie had suspicious questions about each, mostly the sort my parents would ask when I proposed treating them to somewhere and they wondered first about whether anything would be good and furthermore about how much it would cost me. This was before I became a regular article writer¡­


    The article. With everything I knew now, it seemed ridiculous, but the idea had morphed into something different. I could¡¯ve sold off what I knew of Feldon¡¯s work and Greenie¡¯s existence to the highest bidder and found my way to countless web broadcasts. But the thought wasn¡¯t a serious one. For the moment. If it turned out that I wasn¡¯t a Feldon, then I had some big choices to make. Was it right for me to share these kinds of secrets? What would happen to the ranch? What would happen to those children?


    I let out a slow breath and offered up a steak place I liked. Nothing so hipster as an all-natural caf¨¦ or a synthetic meat bistro. Just the same, ordinary steakhouse which had hung on through several ebbs and flows of fashion diets and medical opinions.


    Greenie had no complaints about that but noted, gesturing to her clothes, ¡°So long as there¡¯s no dress code¡­¡±


    My eyes widened. I¡¯d nearly forgotten. One thing I had in mind for this excursion to kill a little time was to take her shopping. It was a nice idea. But, at the same time, my sense of fashion focused on how to mold a boyish shape with an outfit and how to get a suit to look nicely androgynous. With Greenie, something more feminine was called for. I just had no idea how to go about it.


    Fortunately, I had an expert I knew when it came to fashion and, while she mentored me about men¡¯s clothing, I felt she would be clever enough to do interesting things with Greenie. Her store was just off the main road but still technically on our way for the return trip, with the steakhouse just beyond it.


    I had a moment to ponder all this before Greenie¡¯s suspicious expression set in and I had to say something. I assured her that I had a plan. She promptly pointed out, ¡°That¡¯s not what worries me¡­¡± I leaned in close with a curious look.


    She shook her head and muttered, ¡°Restroom?¡± I raised an eyebrow but pointed it out to her around a corner. I spent the time she was away wondering what I¡¯d wondered about before, specifically how she maintained her internal fluid levels. I¡¯d wondered the same thing when my parents got me a doll early on and I was curious about how it got a wet diaper and cried. I wound up dissecting it and taking notes. My parents were annoyed.


    However, the prospect of dressing up Greenie/Mari, my possible granddad, in all sorts of creative ways blazed through and over all those silly dolls. She kept the same sense of wariness when she returned with water dripping off her fingernails.


    I noticed she seemed to dry slowly as her palms still appeared moist when we arrived at the clothing store. It was rather humid, even with the skies clearing. Still, my hands would¡¯ve dried a long time ago. Something to consider amidst all the clues. I wouldn¡¯t dream of taking Mari apart though.


    My friend met us, eager and delighted to see me. We chatted a bit before I introduced Greenie.


    ¡°This is a relative¡­possible relative. Complicated. We¡¯re having a day out. Got anything I¡¯d never wear in a million years on a dare?¡±


    She was dressed in a paint-spatter purple outfit with complimentary khakis. Mari fussed as she instructed her to turn and shift in her track/athletics-friendly outfit. I recognized the fact I was wearing the most androgynous, form-occluding getup possible as I was lining her up for whatever my friend fired at her.


    I camped on a doughnut couch made of stuffed denim and vinyl. She led Mari away for measurements while I slumped back and caught an upside-down look at the kind of dresses my mother forced on me. I sighed awkwardly and clasped the back of my neck. My phone was in the car. It wasn¡¯t a weekend, so they wouldn¡¯t be expecting a call. Not that I wanted to call. I was thinking about asking them. I figured I¡¯d be able to hear them lying to me over the line, if they were. But my phone was in the car and I didn¡¯t want to get up.


    Mari returned soon after in a green and black floral dress which cinched close around her legs, hugged her shoulders, and gave her a nervous shuffle. I thought it went well with her hair. She said nothing and fussed with the narrow cut around her neck. My friend flashed me a look, but I held my tongue. The material was an altered substance that merely looked and felt like polyester.


    Moving gingerly, Mari kept brushing down the bottom of the hem, not pleased with its length. My friend resorted to full gesticulating as Mari found her way to a mirror. I casually closed the distance and looked her up and down before turning my attention to my friend. She lied, ¡°I have something¡­special order for¡­Logan¡­be just a moment.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    That didn¡¯t alarm Mari as she seemed too preoccupied with taming the dress. We walked into the back room. Knowing Mari probably had good hearing along with vision, I urged my friend into a room further back and closed the door.


    ¡°She has no nipples¡­¡±


    That¡¯s what she said first and all I really needed to know. Her eyes widened as she added, ¡°And I didn¡¯t see any scars or anything. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    I massaged the back of my neck and told her, ¡°I trust you with my secrets. Who I am and what I feel¡­¡± She gave me an eager affirmation. I sighed.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m trusted with her secrets about who she is and the complicated things in her life.¡± It felt weird to be on the same ground I wanted to challenge yesterday. I knew she wanted to pry and perturb the same secrets I¡¯d sought out. I sometimes even found her as persistent as me, especially when I first laid my personal history bare before her over late evenings in the store.


    I kept my gaze steady and my mouth tucked seriously around its corners. She inspected me and let her head droop. She would accept that but had a question for me as well, ¡°She doesn¡¯t seem to like the girly stuff any more than you do, so why put her in it?¡±


    It was the same question I couldn¡¯t answer. I said, ¡°I just want her to try it on. She¡¯s never really experienced it. Oh¡­.actually¡­.idea.¡± It was an idea, a better idea than stumbling through whatever my friend could put together. I rushed out to Mari and asked, ¡°What would Aura wear?¡±


    She¡¯d curled up before a mirror, as though trying to diminish her reflection in it. Turning towards me, she said, ¡°Let me look¡­¡±


    Some of her choices felt like glimpses I¡¯d seen in the photos of a perhaps-sibling. She didn¡¯t look at the clothing as if it was an ordeal but rather a memory. She even smiled as her hand drifted across a bit of glossy cloth.


    What she wound up with was an assortment of clothes not too far removed from what she¡¯d been wearing out and around the track but subtly tweaked with little accents which showed personality and joy. She still glared at some of the clothes.


    While glossy and slim, her pants would¡¯ve gotten the approval of any of the teenage girls I interviewed for a story a while back. But then I''d always found teenage girls terrifying and that story did nothing to alleviate that feeling.


    What she came out wearing was nearly monochrome but for some pale-lime tinting to compliment her hair. It would be suitable for dinner. I paid for some extra stuff as I promised to my friend in private moments that I would explain someday, in some way, especially if it turned out I was a Feldon.


    What Greenie had on would¡¯ve been horrifying for me to wear because of how much it traced and implied. I could tell she had the same misgivings but admitted more than once that Aura would wear it, so she did as well.


    The restaurant was busier than I hoped but not so bad I wanted to reconsider. Greenie didn¡¯t seem particularly impressed by the looming, log cabin lobby and faux plants everywhere. A hostess led us around to the back of the main dining hall with a cozy and secluded booth. Menus were already at the end of the table and I passed one to Greenie.


    She flipped through it as she brushed back her hair. After a quick look, she put it down. I raised my eyebrows and flipped a couple of pages myself as I said, ¡°There were a couple of things I could¡¯ve made at home but not with the stuff I have in my fridge.¡± Which included bottles of juice, old Chinese food, and some crackers which didn¡¯t really belong there.


    Pressing her wrists against the menu, Greenie shrugged and noted, ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    This place had fake meat for a while as a ¡°healthy choices¡± option. It didn¡¯t work out for them. Despite the premium, people still wanted meat, no matter how much it constantly added to the advancing horrors of the global climate. I was one of them, even after several articles I¡¯d written.


    But my mind was on Greenie. I set my own menu aside and asked her something which had been brewing for a while, ¡°Is it because they haven¡¯t figured out how to make taste work properly either?¡±


    She settled into the cushion on her side and folded her arms. ¡°Pretty much. It¡¯s highly diminished. A lot of feelings are.¡±


    With wide eyes, it clicked for me. Of course. I kept asking questions, ¡°You mean¡­they nullify sensations¡­but why?¡±


    Rubbing at her neck, she said, ¡°I¡¯m a test case. Same with Lily. Still gotta figure it out. Lily had a moment when it was first done, when the crystal was fresh. She woke up screaming because the air on her skin felt like a blazing flame. It¡¯s a slow process of introduction and adaptation. Fortunately, our bodies aren¡¯t as noisy or complicated as real ones.¡±


    When the server came with her curly-cropped brown hair and tight grin, I only asked for water before sending her away for more time. I persisted, ¡°So, you can¡¯t taste anything?¡±


    She gave a half-shrug. ¡°I remember tastes, so it¡¯s easy to fill in the gaps. All I get is the consistency. Lily tries to supplement it with harsh flavors, so she has something.¡±


    That explained the weird, terrible flavors of cake. Like turning up music to the highest volume because someone can barely hear it. I assumed sounds were something which had been fixed already, since they didn¡¯t seem to have a problem with that.


    Greenie confirmed this with a bob of her head, noting, ¡°Priority of sensations. Taste and smell are nuanced, subjective, and not critical when you¡¯re a synthetic slab of tissue and crystal.


    I inquired, ¡°You¡¯re not interested in trying extreme flavors to see if you¡¯ll get anything?¡±


    She glanced down at the menu. ¡°I have therapy sessions. Lily¡¯s made holes in her throat¡­so that¡¯s not the best way. But they can¡¯t stop her any more than they can stop me from running.¡±


    I thought about her running form, pounding the ground like she wanted to crush it. Running so fast she could and did fly apart. I leaned forward and asked, ¡°Do you run so hard because Aura never could or because you want to feel it again?¡±


    She pulled her jaw in tight and whispered, ¡°That¡¯s not a question you get to ask me¡­.not yet.¡±


    I put my hands up and acknowledged, ¡°I know¡­no idea if we¡¯re family and it¡¯s a touchy subject¡­¡±


    Greenie shook her head. ¡°Good point but those aren¡¯t my reasons.¡±

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 17: The Line Between the Past and the Future

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 17: The Line Between the Past and the Future


    I tried to beckon her to share her reasons without explicitly asking, but she remained mum. Something to remember for later. In the meanwhile, the server returned with glasses of water and an expectant look with her touchpad in one hand. I ordered some onion appetizers to placate her.


    Though Greenie had given me the sort of answers that really meant ¡°leave it at that¡±, I had the sort of mind which wasn¡¯t satisfied with that. I noted, ¡°Lily seems to like being a¡­.girl¡­more than you.¡±


    Quickly, Greenie ruffled like a disturbed bird before saying, ¡°I¡¯m not really. I just appear this way, but I¡¯m more of a dummy or a doll in the shape of a girl.¡± She kept her voice to a whisper despite the fact our booth was a behemoth of wood and leather and no one sat in direct view of us.


    I smirked. ¡°Well, you¡¯re more like a fussy, adorable tomboy of an anime girl than any regular girl¡­which is kind of a doll in some ways. I half envy you that you don¡¯t have biology to worry about. Although I¡¯d choose a different form myself.¡±


    I didn¡¯t profess to be any kind of expert in anime, unlike those I knew for random pop culture articles and leading back to my college years when a relative abundance of free time. free-floating net energy, and the right group of roommates led to my crash course in the genre.


    I loved the "reverse traps" but most of it passed by as a different tone of white noise. I didn¡¯t even think of it when I first met Greenie, but anime girls also ran the gamut of strange colors of hair. And Lily and Greenie¡¯s eyes were slightly above average in size. Both anime typical traits. I knew the color of her hair linked back to Aura, but the eyes were there too. That someone at the ranch was a secret fan of anime also crossed my mind. Something else to keep in mind for future questions.


    To my statement, I noticed Greenie reeled with each choice word. She frowned at ¡®fussy¡¯, virtually blanched at ¡®adorable¡¯, and looked simply annoyed with ¡®tomboy¡¯. She reacted only a little to the anime part, noting, ¡°Never really into foreign cartoons but, in my past life, I was a head taller than Feldon. I had thick hair, even in my later years, and a prominent nose. And I was happy with it all.¡±


    Which left the inevitable gap of why an old man who was happy with his body would change so much just to resurrect some fragment of his granddaughter. If that was truly the whole reason for why she had the body she did. Perhaps throw in her appreciation of women. Maybe gender curiosity to experience what those she was closest to live through. It made sense in a way that felt like a delicate paper construction that wouldn¡¯t hold up in the wind of any argument.


    I had to leave it there as our server returned and this time we couldn¡¯t put off our order any longer. I got a chopped steak and Greenie selected the cayenne pepper and mango salmon. I raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t say anything. Sounded almost like a Lily order, if she ever ordered anything but cake.


    Returning to her last words as we picked at our appetizer and the server scampered off, I asked, ¡°Are you happy now?¡±


    She crunched on a few onions. Her vast eyes flicked across to mine, as she noted, ¡°You should know the answer to that after all you¡¯ve heard and seen.¡±


    I settled back. ¡°Yeah, I could make a reliable guess. But I¡¯ve still only just met you, relatively speaking.¡±


    Greenie sighed as the server returned with a basket of hard toast with melted cheese. We each took a little. She fussed after sipping her water. ¡°I probably tolerate being seen as a girl more than others. But I¡¯m not one. Inside, I¡¯m an old man who lived a long time that way. I did tell myself at first I would see and feel some new things. But happy?¡­The line of the past has been drawn with shades of gray and no change can bring the color back. Just sharpened shades of gray.¡±


    I frowned and immediately thought of Edgar with his colorful, shifting, and animated vistas. Then I pondered what he¡¯d said to me in both clear and cryptic form. I inquired about whether Greenie ever visited Edgar.


    She raised an eyebrow, before shrugging and admitting, ¡°Yeah. We talk. I watch what his brain can come up with¡­because we both have Memetic inside our heads, I can share things with him and see them visualized.¡±


    I relayed that I¡¯d seen (perhaps) Aura in one of those visuals. Greenie¡¯s eyes narrowed wistfully. She reflected, ¡°I know. Sometimes it¡¯s like old video clips on a screen, seeing them played back. Seeing her live again.¡±


    I raised a finger slightly as I noted, ¡°Aren¡¯t you that as well? You¡¯re much like her.¡±


    Dismissively, she gave a shake of her head. ¡°Just a little bit. The part of her shared with me. The part of her I remember. That doesn¡¯t even need a synthetic body. Really, I fulfilled her dream some time ago. I ran everywhere. I even joined a triathlon, but I had to drop out...for obvious reasons. It was good though¡­.but it was for me. I could look in a reflection and feel like Aura was doing all the things she ever wanted to do. But it¡¯s a lie.¡± She hunched down against the table and sipped her water.


    I folded my arms. ¡°Why not do it for yourself then¡­.without guilt? Aren¡¯t you allowed?¡±


    She glared across at me. ¡°I don¡¯t deserve it. I should¡¯ve died back then. I should¡¯ve died long before¡­with Liz.¡±


    I didn¡¯t mean to pound the table but my arms hitting it was louder than I expected. I leaned back and told her, ¡°You deserve to live. For decades you¡¯ve been¡­oppressed by the loss of so many people you love. You got to enjoy Aura¡¯s ambitious joys despite her brief, brilliant life. But you act like you¡¯re the closing of a book. You run a lap for Aura¡­ happy ending. Blah blah. That¡¯s nonsense. That¡¯s selfish. You¡¯re full of possibilities. You¡¯re alive. Heck, you could go to high school as a transfer student and see how things have changed.¡±


    That already sounded like a book concept or something. Greenie¡¯s reaction sat somewhere between skepticism and revulsion, with an emphasis on the latter. I wasn¡¯t so far away from high school that I had any golden notions of it. It sucked, especially with the kind of person I was. I withdrew that idea but pressed onward, ¡°There are so many possibilities open to you. Your life could become anything. You¡¯re special. I don¡¯t get all the particulars, but I know enough to wish I could be in your shoes.¡±


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Her gazed sharpened as she refuted, ¡°You don¡¯t want that. Not for a moment. You act like it¡¯s becoming a teen again¡­it¡¯s just appearances. I¡¯m still that old man, I told you. Just the cover changes. Less pain, no health problems. But I¡¯m a doll sealed away in the same state. I don¡¯t change. I¡¯m set. I¡¯m a bookmark on a page, stuck there. I¡¯d rather finish it. But I have a duty to Feldon¡¯s research and¡­depending on how things go, I don¡¯t want to leave you sad...and I kinda need to make up for being an ass... these past days.¡± She looked away with a cough.


    I reached across the table to touch her as I said, ¡°If not for all that, then I would never have been so intrigued. Good conflict in an article. A feisty young lady framing the scenes I can write about.¡±


    She looked embarrassed, buckling especially at ¡°young lady¡±. I could see the article, even though I now had no reason to consider it. I¡¯d try to get a photograph of Greenie. I¡¯d call her by that nickname too. I¡¯d paint her scenes with a lot of little details. I might have to fudge about her sweat and other inhuman aspects. I didn¡¯t like to brush aside the full truth in my writing¡­which is really why I didn¡¯t even want to write it. But I could make some excuse, perhaps channel the ''me'' who was still stuck at the end of day one with so many questions and a grin about tracking down the answers.


    It was simpler then. But it¡¯s always simpler before I finish an article. Learning more always has a way of complicating what I might write. I was glad to be sitting across from Greenie though, about to share a meal. What came next could wait.


    Our plates arrived soon after with some lovely little condiments on the side. As was always the case, my steak went far too quickly, cooked through only enough that the layer underneath was soft and red. Greenie manipulated her fork a little, making me wonder how often she really ate. I asked, ¡°Bad fork?¡±


    She shook her head and noted, ¡°I knew how to hold a fork in my own hand, for a long time. I took pride that I could still use one by myself, even at my age. But this is no longer my hand. Adapting is a challenge.¡± I could only imagine.


    Before long, Greenie was comfortably holding the fork. She dropped bits of food from time to time but no more than I did myself. We didn¡¯t get a dessert. Greenie asked for the time and I checked my phone. She gave a little expression of concern.


    ¡°Need to get back?¡± I asked.


    She rubbed her cheek and explained, ¡°I should be okay. I just don¡¯t usually go out this long without any technicians, nurses, or others around. I tend to take naps after meals¡­¡±


    I raised an eyebrow and said, ¡°But you¡¯re going to be okay, right?¡±


    She gave me an uncertain look. I took that to mean I should pay as soon as possible. We nearly made it out the door, but I stopped to use the restroom and Greenie was slouching on a waiting area couch and snoozing.


    A busboy was willing to carry her back to the car. He asked enough questions about her age and other things that I wondered about his intentions. I gave a snicker when he asked if I was her dad. I deferred to, ¡°Good friend.¡±


    I was able to buckle her in and checked her breath. I didn¡¯t feel any air on my hand even though she had an automatic, regular motion of breathing. Her chest went up slowly and her mouth hung open slightly with a little sound coming out. It was all for appearances, as if she was actually breathing. It was enough to fool the restaurant workers, so they didn¡¯t send for EMS at least. I was a little concerned, but not so much as I might¡¯ve been if Greenie just collapsed on me.


    I worried about that, her fainting all of a sudden like she was a machine suddenly shut off. But she was in¡­sleep-mode, I guess. I was still a little concerned because I didn¡¯t know if this was good or bad for her, but I wasn¡¯t about to hack the car¡¯s computer and break all traffic laws to get back to the ranch. I did set the trip to priority fastest route though.


    It was a quiet trip with Greenie not rousing from her sleep. She implied that eating was energy-intensive. What did that leave her ¡®battery¡¯ at, if she had one? I also wondered if she dreamed or if it was like an anesthetic sleep where someone is conscious one moment and then in a blank patch of darkness the next. I tried not to dwell on that as evening slipped around us. We left the city and returned to the gas station marked expanse of the desert which had long forgotten the violent rainstorm, as though it had never happened.


    I didn¡¯t even remember when it had stopped. Maybe I was too absorbed with Greenie to notice. I felt bad still referring to her as Greenie but switching between Mari and Greenie just felt like something a sloppy article writer would do. Too confusing. Unless I had a good reason, Greenie was good enough for the time being.


    It was roughly halfway between the restaurant and the ranch (and I could tell because of the illuminated GPS in the car) that I got a message on my phone. It was from the DNA lab. I stopped the car.


    Since we were within the reach of the signal, I could send the file along to the government and get an answer if they weren¡¯t doing server upgrades or anything. At least this part of the government was automated, and I didn¡¯t need to speak to a person. I used the identity key which came from the lab along with my test as confirmation I was the person submitting the request and not just someone who knew my DNA. I still had a little doubt about a massive conspiracy and Feldon creating a fake file and all that other jazz. But there had to be a limit. I sent along my file and all the authorizations with the hope I was reaching out for truth and not more questions.


    In the meanwhile, I paged over the DNA file. A lot of it was too complicated for me to understand. Even the summation was written in a language I¡¯d need a specialist to parse. But there was one part, one place in the record which stood out like a glowing red light against a wall of blue. I looked at it and everything clicked.


    I looked at that one patch and suddenly I understood what Feldon meant when he said my DNA would be distinctive enough, that it would be quickly evident who I was. It took several minutes to get confirmation of what I could already tell just by looking at the basic structure of my genes.


    I was Rachel Feldon and I was intersexed.

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 18: The Future

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 18: The Future


    I had a few quiet moments of calm before I started freaking out.


    The notion of being a Feldon had gone from absurdity to finally making sense. My body had always felt wrong, warped, distorted. I accepted some aspects of gender. I called myself a girl. Perhaps it would be different if I had different people raising me but being force-fed the gender notions of my morally-ancient family had me fighting even more.


    So yeah, it made sense but, at the same time, I¡¯d been to a family general-practitioner more than once. I had my first period at a brutal time in my life, but I¡¯d had it and no gynecologist batted an eye when they examined me. And these weren¡¯t myopic physicians who talked in folksy platitudes. They were as knowledgeable as any doctors I¡¯d ever met. Of course, I was in no position to fact-check them, but they¡¯d never raised any alarms to me about my health.


    I¡¯d done casual readings about intersexuality and the genes involved. A chimerical mixture of Xs and Ys. There were obvious physical traits, there were gonads where they shouldn¡¯t be or extra ones. There were motor problems and neurological issues. Again, I didn¡¯t trigger any red flags. Sure, I had an androgynous build and a neutral voice but that was as far as things went.


    I dipped my phone down and sighed. I ordered the car back on its route and the connection ebbed away. Greenie still mimed her sleep cycle on the backseat. I rubbed my eyes and shook my head.


    I got up for a bit and sat beside where Greenie lay. Touching her, I never really thought about the warmth of her skin. I imagined it had to be done automatically so she wouldn¡¯t feel eerily-cold like a corpse. I cupped her fingers and muttered, ¡°Granddad¡­¡± I knew the words wouldn¡¯t rouse her, but I hoped in some way it would comfort her to hear them. I even did my best to sound like a normal girl.


    It was sundown by the time we arrived back at the ranch. I checked Greenie¡¯s pockets, but she didn¡¯t have the signaling device from her accident in the morning. I hustled inside and framed the situation as, ¡°Greenie collapsed.¡± It was an exaggeration to be sure, but I figured that would get people coming quickly, which it did. Three nurses sprinted out the door ahead of me at nearly Greenie-level speed. I left my car unlocked. Before going back inside, I checked the memory drive on my audio recorder and adjusted my video recorder, so it looked like a bit of an earring. I hadn¡¯t been diligent with either of them since the big bombshell. But it was time to fix that, just in case.


    I felt bad about taping Feldon, but I was still a reporter. No matter if nothing came from my work, I wanted personal records. Back inside, things were stirred up like seabirds on the old pier just off the promenade where I grew up. People kept scampering around with no inkling of what they were supposed to do. Like a stoic, methodical pelican with gray spread across his crest, Feldon was waiting at the back of it all.


    I approached him with the same sense of reserve. I told him promptly, ¡°Greenie passed out, but she looks like she''s sleeping.¡±


    He gave a little nod, the feeling of worry on his face was but a shadow of what it had been when we left. He answered, ¡°I anticipated it. I assume she had dinner.¡± I confirmed as much along with mentioning what she¡¯d eaten. I added, ¡°She wasn¡¯t actually breathing when she was sleeping¡­¡±


    Feldon nodded quietly and folded his arms. ¡°Understood. So¡­how did the testing go?¡± He didn¡¯t ask urgently, but I could tell it was foremost on his mind, even above his father-in-law¡¯s condition.


    I held up my phone with the file saved. I zoomed to the government confirmation and then to the genes which had caught my eye. He gazed at the screen, leaning closer. I watched his expression. It seemed like he was expecting this result but at the same time, there was a wave of relief in his undulating lips. He looked me in the eye and said simply, ¡°Rachel¡­¡±


    I answered back, ¡°I guess so.¡±


    He took a deep breath and let his lips curl. Softly, he whispered, ¡°I knew you survived. I just knew it¡­I knew it¡­¡±


    It was hard not to get caught up in the feeling of his words, but I just nodded and kept a respectable distance. His arms didn¡¯t rise with any expectation of a hug, but he clasped his hands, coughed once, and surmised, ¡°You have more questions. Of course¡­I want to tell you all I can¡­¡±


    I gave him a quiet nod and followed where he led me. It wasn¡¯t back to his office nor back to the conference hall for more family pictures. Instead, we went into the isolation ward I¡¯d seen the day before. He picked a locked door that I¡¯d originally taken for a maintenance closet, but it opened up into a darkened room. It was larger than any of the other patient rooms and had a good view of the racetrack outside, even at dusk.


    Despite wide closets and an adjacent kitchen, it was still easy to tell it was a hospital room. Valves and slots for medical equipment lined the far wall. There were no beds. The bathroom and shower both appeared wheelchair-accessible with a plastic chair still sitting alone over the rope that turned the faucet on and off.


    I was confident in my next words, despite merely guessing, ¡°This was Aura¡¯s room.¡±


    Feldon leaned back and stared at one of the empty spaces. ¡°Yes, though she invited her grandfather over so often that we had to put in a second bed for¡­well, ''sleepovers'' she called it.¡±


    I looked around and noticed there were stairs and an elevator opposite the closets. Feldon smirked and noted, ¡°And yes, there is more to this room. Come along¡­¡±


    He walked and explained, leading me past the closets and to the elevator I¡¯d glimpsed. ¡°I had it put in so Aura could have treatments privately. In the basement level.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t considered a basement. Bad reporter. But then it was obvious from the outside that the facility was modeled after a ranch. How many of those had basements? I hadn''t seen any elevators, which meant they were disguised. Feldon confirmed as much as he continued.


    ¡°We had it from the beginning as a speedy way of moving freight and supplies between the buildings on campus, especially when it was Memetic or otherwise sensitive. There¡¯s even a small shipping bay to the west which allows trucks to come and leave with shipments.¡±


    It was strange he hadn¡¯t mentioned this before now. I mean¡­if it was mainly for shipping. He pressed the button on the elevator. The doors hissed open and sucked at the air around us. Negative pressure, enough to make my ears pop. There were the standard buttons on the elevator but also two main ones. The first was labeled ¡®mantle¡¯ and the other was marked ¡°air¡±, which he pressed. Ironically, ¡®air¡¯ led us downwards as the doors hissed closed.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    The trip was slow but not long. I didn¡¯t feel like we¡¯d traveled much more than a story or two underground. I wasn¡¯t sure what I expected when the doors finally hissed open again. Perhaps something like the bottom of a missile silo or a secret laboratory. Instead, the lower level didn¡¯t look all that different than the upper one. The only difference was everything was partitioned off into its own sections. One area was filled with clear, heavy plastic, and others were covered in thick metal. The doors to each section looked like they¡¯d be difficult to open manually.


    Corridors led through the area and out of sight. Feldon anticipated my next question, ¡°The tunnels run under the entire ranch, under every building.¡± I frowned and had to wonder why. That certainly seemed excessive. I mean I knew that many hospitals had basement levels for support services but usually that just meant those areas were not open to the public and allowed workers to move about freely. You had to add Memetic Crystalline but that hardly seemed worth all this. Still, I held my tongue.


    After a ways in, I had to change clothes like in the lab area behind the ranch. I begrudgingly slipped off my coat to reveal some of the curve of my shoulders. I swallowed and looked away from Feldon as I put on what reminded me at first of a biohazard suit, only lacking the faceplate and mask. It was all white and loose enough to make me feel comfortable. It was bulky with all my other clothes on, but I wasn¡¯t ready to undress further in front of anyone.


    The hood tightened to hide my hair but everything else remained the same. My shoes were completely covered. Feldon put on a pair of blue gloves but told me I¡¯d be fine so long as I didn¡¯t touch anything. I raised an eyebrow and he assured me, ¡°It¡¯s to prevent contamination of sensitive materials.¡± I nodded with that but still kept in mind the underground was negative pressurized, which suggested keeping stuff from getting out.


    The first room he led me to stopped me in my tracks. Along the wall was what appeared to be a series of realistic human parts in sealed, clear containers. They were held in a transparent medium which made me think of congealed saliva.


    Feldon gestured with a blue hand. ¡°Spares. Orders have already been placed for these. Made of Cellular D and its related cousins threaded with Memetic Crystalline. More than mere prosthetics. These can replace a lost part or replace an inferior version.¡±


    I paused to look at the assortment of eyes, parts of faces, jaws, arms and legs of all shades and shapes. It wasn¡¯t much of a surprise to me with what I¡¯d seen topside, but these were even better. They looked like the test cases of cutting-edge labs in faraway countries which only worked in the short term.


    ¡°Who orders them?¡±


    He gave a little snort and commented, ¡°Anyone who can afford it.¡±


    I leaned back on my legs. I felt disappointed. Top-side the ranch was a clinic for any and all who needed help, but its underbelly was a market for those with money to buy new pieces of meat to keep their decaying flesh going. I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised. Feldon was an idealist who trotted out his little kids and his miracle cures and long-term care like some kind of Albert Schweitzer plus Santa Claus. But there were also financial realities.


    I guessed he couldn¡¯t fund all this on just the patents he retained alone and putting out MC related products. He seemed to notice the quiet disappointment on my face. He still cracked a smile.


    ¡°This area is also for those who crave discretion for their medical procedures. Besides some minor aesthetic qualities, the best we can offer shows no differences from any normal biological component. I¡¯ve met more than one president here.¡±


    I frowned and wondered where he was going with this. It seemed out of tune with all he¡¯d told me before. Perhaps all the before was for show and this was the bitter pill. He didn¡¯t seem ashamed of it though. Selling out his top-tier products to the wealthy and powerful.


    Clearing my throat, I inquired about Mari. He gestured towards the frosted clear walls to the right and told me, ¡°She needed a refuel and went into what they used to refer to in old computer lingo as ¡®sleep mode¡¯¡­appropriately in her case. Originally she had a very advanced fuel cell inside her which needed a regular battery recharge. Now, it¡¯s a magnesium-based nanoparticle system which does a little bit with biomass¡­what she eats and drinks. It can be a closed system for months, if necessary. However, the drawback is she can hit a¡­brownout¡­I guess you call it, when eating, due to how she¡¯s composed. Nothing to be done but we¡¯re working on making it better.¡±


    I stated what I already knew, ¡°She¡¯s entirely synthetic¡­and she¡¯s your father-in-law.¡±


    Feldon cocked his head slightly. ¡°She really opened up to you. The other day she was ranting to me about how it was impossible you could be Rachel and today she spilled out her heart to you. Quite a change¡­¡±


    I did note that there were certain things she didn¡¯t want to talk about, and he quickly remarked, ¡°Of course there are. As there were so many things I have yet to tell you. That I would not share outside of family. Ah¡­and if you please, could you transfer your genetic file to uh¡­this computer over here should be compatible.¡±


    I pointed the phone at the computer and just authorized it to send over the file. I was actually a little surprised it was compatible because it was about as old as my own back home. I leaned over and watched my genetic information, all that I was or would ever be, laid out like a holographic map.


    Feldon stroked his chin and muttered to himself. He stretched out his fingers and manipulated the interface. When he was done, he leaned back and let me observe the information on the screen. It still showed my genetics, but areas were highlighted or darkened all over.


    Stretching, Feldon casually remarked, ¡°Ideally, it would¡¯ve looked like this. Replication genes with an expression towards cell longevity instead of mutation with just a touch of improved healing. Little touch-ups here and there. And everything else cleared up.¡±


    His eyes gazed at the screen with what seemed like frustration. I¡¯d seen it before but more wistful, my parents wishing I¡¯d had better memory genes or been more obedient growing up. But those were the kind of things parents wished for, even adopted parents¡­I guess.


    Then, Feldon said, ¡°You were tested in the womb you shared with Aura. She was fine but you needed some help to suppress your unnecessary genes.¡±


    I paused and looked over the areas Feldon had blacked out on the screen again. I flipped back to my phone to check. They were in the areas which would¡¯ve expressed male or masculine traits. I stared there with my mouth hanging open slightly as I realized, ¡°You¡­you turned me into a girl¡­¡±

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 19: Entangled

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 19: Entangled


    He gave a shake of his head. ¡°They were your genes. We made a decision¡­as a family¡­after much discussion and concern, that it would be better for you that certain genes of yours were expressed while others were not. You were going to be a girl¡­but you could¡¯ve had so many physical and mental health problems throughout your life along with¡­malformed anatomy and sexual organs¡­It was for the best.¡±


    It was my turn to shake my head silently as a wave of nausea washed over me. On the objective side, I could see why May and Arnold¡­my parents¡­had done this. What parent doesn''t want anything but the best for their child, better than what they could physically give? On some level I understood, but I was still angry. And confused. My genes hadn¡¯t turned out completely like Feldon¡¯s edits showed.


    He bowed his head. ¡°Standard genetic therapy had made much progress from its early days. If we went through others, then we could¡¯ve made some progress but not enough. So, I took the matter into my own hands¡­¡±


    The nausea bubbled up again. ¡°You used me like a lab rat¡­¡±


    Feldon looked me in the eye with clear disappointment. ¡°Not at all. There really was no other way. Fetal gene therapy is really and still is the best way to prevent life-long health problems. The work was so extensive that May spent most of her pregnancy at a clinic of mine in Odessa. Even then, it wasn¡¯t enough. When you were born, you still had ambiguous genitalia and nascent male gonads. We didn¡¯t take our decisions then lightly either. It¡¯s a choice that many thousands of families need to make every single year for their children¡­knowing that they will likely get it wrong. But their only sin is wanting their child to have a normal life.¡±


    My fury had nothing to latch onto with Feldon¡¯s calm. All the pain I¡¯d felt growing up was because a gender had been chosen for me for the rest of my life! My body had been reshaped before I was born to be a perfect little girl and even then it had rebelled before they hacked off anything left of my male side. But something had remained. I wasn¡¯t a perfect little girly girl.


    Feldon brushed his chin with his hands. ¡°You were still an infant, so you had some genetic therapy left to make sure your body produced the right levels of hormones. But there was nothing more I could do once the tragedy came¡­¡±


    Words seemed not enough. Yelling seemed pointless. Mari¡¯s analogy of bleeding emptiness inside was what I clung to. I hated Feldon so much in that moment, even though I could analytically understand why he did it all.


    I turned away with my hands on my hips and glared into the frosted glass. I breathed heavily through my nose. Thankfully, he didn¡¯t say anything to me. I wanted to keep silent forever, but even I had to say something eventually.


    ¡°You had no¡­right to do that...to make those fucking choices.¡±


    ¡°I know. I learned that. With those I met and those I began to know truthfully for the first time.¡±


    I listened as he continued.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say I understand it. I wonder if what is labeled as gender non-conformity or fluidity and so forth, can also be fixed with the right manipulation of Memetic Crystalline. But I¡¯ve found that, like with Edgar, some things of the mind are also part of the self. My brother-in-law¡­who was so connected to my eldest¡­wanted to be just like her. He wanted to show her happiest faces. He wanted to love pastries like she did and live the same life¡­¡±


    He sighed through his nose. ¡°For the longest time, I¡¯d tell him he should find a way to adopt or care for children. There were plenty of orphans out there, even before. For me, the most beautiful moments were standing beside my children as they lived out realities I could never fathom¡­but which I could still imagine.¡±


    With resignation, he gave a little ¡®pop¡¯ of his mouth. ¡°You¡¯re probably thinking I tried to recapture my daughters through my remaining relatives. My brother-in-law become Lily, Dalya¡¯s could¡¯ve-been aunt. My father-in-law become Mari the Wind.¡±


    I bent my head down and admitted, ¡°I don¡¯t know what to think. Except they¡¯re both¡­wildly adorable¡­old men into cute girls. Should¡¯ve put that in the article pitch.¡±


    Feldon nodded quietly and sighed before saying, ¡°There¡¯s more though. There¡¯s always more. More to Mari, more to Lily, and more even to Kala. But you know, for a time, it was like having my three girls again. And May was this place¡­this beautiful place of possibilities. Why¡­if the attack had happened today¡­she would be up and smiling before dinner.¡±


    I looked back a moment. ¡°So, Kala is meant to replace me?¡±


    ¡°Kala is Kala, but she has always felt like she doesn¡¯t fit in one gender or another. At best, she¡¯s like a totem. A reminder. As the others are too. They carry a little memory of those lost.¡±


    It made sense in a way, but at the same time it was absurd and disturbing. Denial of loss in the worst possible way. Trying to undo the inevitable. I just had my own little life to draw from, but I could only imagine it ending in the worst possible way, for Feldon especially. I turned back to watch him.


    That mythic figure of science slumped where he sat. I could see the lines again across his hands as I¡¯d seen them yesterday. Where before they¡¯d been impressive, like something far beyond me, experience and knowledge, now I felt like he sat there as something verging on pathetic. A crumpled husk of humanity.


    And he was my father. Considering the father I¡¯d long been apart from even in the same house, it wasn¡¯t much of a swap. I did wish I¡¯d known the Before though. The time Feldon only described to me. But all that existed was the Moment and the Future. Everything else was memory in fashioned colors. Without speaking the same resignation of the past out of reach, I sighed and told him, ¡°I still don¡¯t get it. But I¡¯m listening.¡±


    He rubbed his hands. The room was cold and sterile without drawing a shiver. He cleared his throat and admitted, ¡°Thank you. And all I can hope is you won¡¯t hate me by the time I am done telling you the rest.¡±


    I braced myself against the wall. The audio device was still recording in my pocket. I could¡¯ve shut it off then, but I kept rolling as I asked, ¡°What¡¯s the rest?¡±


    Slowly, Feldon pulled himself up from his seat and made his way to another area of the underground complex past a series of frosted doors. I followed. Soon, we came to a room devoted to a single device. It was large and shimmery, like a loom with threads spread out individually. The display cycled through complex processes till Feldon raised a hand and it switched to a new interface. It was a computer, the kind typically used in research labs for visualizing and manipulating genetic samples. The lab I¡¯d just left probably had one like it somewhere.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    The ¡®threads¡¯ were the same tone as Memetic Crystalline and each led up as a projection in the heart of the user interface. Feldon cycled through them with a quick gesture until he came to a specific entry and a photograph hovering in the air.


    He explained, ¡°The current Russian president¡­he visited us some time ago and had Memetic Crystalline placed in his brain as an augmentation. He came with an entourage of the wealthiest elite of the Russian oligarchy. His best friends. They all received the same augmentation.¡±


    There came that prickle at the back of my neck again. Something in the way Feldon spoke unsettled me. He continued.


    ¡°I¡¯ve told you that Memetic Crystalline can be manipulated to repair and improve on the original cells. But unless one is in direct contact with the crystalline, you surely couldn¡¯t make changes¡­right?¡±


    I raised an eyebrow and held my tongue. Feldon let slip the smallest of smiles as he added, ¡°That would be unimaginable. But not impossible, it turns out.¡±


    With a flourish of gestures, Feldon brought up a closer image of the Russian president, including what looked like a detailed three-dimensional map of a brain. That prickle was becoming a lump in my throat.


    ¡°Because Memetic Crystalline can hide things really well. It can hide extra bits, little nano-substrates which act as back doors into the entire mass of crystalline and not even the best examinations can tell it¡¯s not a part of the intended design. Now those extra bits are entangled with what we retain here. We make a change here and, no matter how far away its pair is, the signal is always true.¡±


    I was slowly shaking my head. Words came to me in flashes, but I couldn¡¯t find a way to say them. Feldon continued.


    ¡°We store every entangled twin from every procedure¡­preserved¡­and linked to this console. Now, if say the Russian president feels that one of the ¡®lost¡¯ republics needs to return to the Motherland, then perhaps that¡¯s a feeling which needs to be readjusted.¡±


    I staggered backward and brought my hand up to my mouth. Feldon didn¡¯t notice as his eyes were focused and unblinking on the photograph floating in front of him. Finally, I found my words.


    ¡°Mind control¡­you¡¯re using mind control.¡±


    This time, he glanced towards me. From his expression, he seemed to expect my words. ¡°It¡¯s hardly as precise as that, but we¡¯re working on it. It¡¯s nudging people in a different direction. And it¡¯s for good. Dissuading the ruling elite from violence, encouraging them towards empathy, and building a better future for all humanity.¡±


    I slammed my arms into the wall and pushed off it. ¡°You¡¯re manipulating people. How is that any better than what they do?¡±


    He clenched his hands. ¡°I¡¯m not killing women and little girls. I¡¯m saving lives. I¡¯ve already prevented entire wars by pushing reconciliation from both sides.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°What about free will? You¡¯re making people do things they don¡¯t want to do.¡±


    Feldon snorted. ¡°I only give them a push. I can¡¯t control them like robots. I just encourage their humanity to win out over their lust for money and power. Would you rather see a future made by them and their base impulses?¡±


    Bending, I stared him down. ¡°How do you know your future will be any better?¡±


    He didn¡¯t waver, even though his hands trembled. ¡°All I know is that I will do everything in my power to make sure no one suffers like I did¡­that children don¡¯t have to suffer and die so young like Aura and Dalya¡­and they will have their mothers. My only regret is that the thugs and criminals of the world can¡¯t all go under my knife.¡±


    On the one hand, after all I¡¯d seen for the articles I¡¯d written, I sensed where he was coming from. But the very notion was revolting and horrifying. And another notion slipped into my thoughts as I reached for the back of my neck, where Cellular-D had been placed over a bit of Memetic Crystalline.


    I asked simply, ¡°What about me¡­? Is that why you did what you did to me?¡±


    He batted a hand. ¡°Of course not. It was to show the health benefits, as I¡¯ve said.¡±


    I tensed my lips. ¡°And why should I trust you at that? You¡¯ve deceived me till now. You¡¯ve played around with my life and my genome before my birth¡­and you want to play even bigger games with the entire world¡­¡±


    Feldon shook his head dismissively. ¡°I¡¯ve been open with you. I have made mistakes, but I admit to them and I have learned from them.¡±


    I almost drew blood from my lips as I clenched them with my teeth. ¡°Oh? Then why haven¡¯t you stopped experimenting with family?¡±


    He clutched his gray-framed head and told me, ¡°I have done everything I could¡¯ve to help my family, to heal and help them.¡±


    I thought back to the images I¡¯d seen of Aura in the early days of her injury with pain and sad faces before she started to smile more and more. I felt a sickening sensation as I brought her up and guessed, ¡°You experimented on Aura too¡­.didn¡¯t you? You admitted to trying to fix her¡­How far did you go?¡±


    Feldon rapped the counter and shook his head. ¡°I treated Aura for her physical problems and tried to help her through her psychological issues as well.¡±


    Shaking my head, I stated the sick feeling in words, ¡°You made her happy, despite her pain. You made her into a perky little spark plug because that¡¯s what you thought she should¡¯ve been. All this about how she was bold and joyful in the face of her injury¡­that was you¡­pushing her along¡­wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    With shut eyes, Feldon told me, ¡°I treated Aura. I did nothing more than a psychologist would do medically to ease the worst of her trauma. As much as I wish, I can¡¯t erase what happened to her and those we love.¡±


    I pushed closer to Feldon and said, ¡°Fine. But how do you know for sure you were actually helping? You pushed her pain away like injecting a drug. That¡¯s not how you deal with pain and you should know that¡­.What if one of the side-effects of her treatment led to her death¡­What if you killed her?¡±

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 20: Petrichor

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 20: Petrichor


    Feldon slammed the desk in fury. ¡°Don¡¯t you think I¡¯ve imagined that a hundred fucking times since? I know! Dammit, I know. One of the side effects of the earlier Memetic Crystalline formulations was a strange sensation, a feeling and smell like when it begins to rain. Everyone reported it, Aura especially. It¡¯s much rarer now, but it still emerges from time to time like a phantom aroma wafting through the air with no point of origin.¡±


    His eyes looked darkly-ringed. He appeared increasingly tired just speaking to me from a few minutes ago. Some part of me wanted to go easy on him. He was my father and I had so much yet to learn, but the reporter inside didn¡¯t waver despite the buckling of the child. Still, I made no movement towards him of embrace or comfort. I was an observer even though I knew the notion was impossible.


    I tried not to feel my recorder in my pocket. It was running and, while these weren¡¯t ideal conditions, it was likely working well enough to get the gist of what we¡¯d just talked about.


    I held back my words as long as I could and then finally asked, ¡°And what about Mari?¡±


    He cupped his eyes and sighed. ¡°What about her?¡±


    ¡°Do you have your finger over a switch for her too? Are you controlling her? Do you decide to turn her off or shut her up if she says the wrong things? Can you hear her thoughts or what she hears?¡± My questions spewed out like venom. I wanted Feldon to hurt with each one.


    He didn¡¯t move as they poured out. When I was done and on the verge of panting, he responded, ¡°When Mari had some Memetic Crystalline, I could have moved her mood. I could have made decisions for her. I could have molded her into a second version of my daughter. But, at the point she¡¯s reached, total Memetic conversion, there are just too many strings. Every nerve is a crystalline string. There¡¯s nowhere to begin.¡±


    I took a deep breath. The fury was cooling even though everything I felt, every ounce of disappointment and anger held focus like a totem of myself. I knew in every recess of my mind that I had crystalline nerves at the base of my neck and wondered how my strings could be plucked.


    I didn¡¯t ask that question though, I didn¡¯t ask if he was manipulating me. It was too big a question, and I didn¡¯t want to know the answer. But I did ask, ¡°Why did¡­my grandfather choose to look like my sister?¡± Those words didn¡¯t feel strange enough to say together.


    Feldon released his eyes and folded his weathered hands in his lap. ¡°Do you think I haven¡¯t tried asking her? No amount of trying to peer into her mind could make sense of it for me. And I did nothing to put the notion in her head. It was her choice. Lily actually came first. She always took issue with having to be a man, especially an old man. Mari was fine with it, happy to be a father and¡­a grandfather, even when suffering followed¡­¡±


    He took a breath as I let him continue. ¡°I wonder¡­in a way. Well, it¡¯s just my own thoughts. But I wonder perhaps¡­she chose to take after you, the lost you. The little you she remembered. Always chasing after her faster sister. Chasing the wind¡­always trying to go so fast, faster than seems possible. Hoping she might one day catch up to her. But these are my own thoughts and nothing more¡­¡±


    Holding his hands up, he looked me in the eye. ¡°And that¡¯s it. Of course, there is more to say about the technical aspects. And Mari and Lily are both being constantly refined.¡±


    I found my heart no longer thundering in my ears, as I asked, ¡°What is the end result?¡±


    His answer was swift. ¡°No more loss. No more suffering. The kind of world men have only fantasized about in their alchemic dreams. And in that kind of world, wouldn¡¯t you want the most powerful and influential to be held in check somehow?¡±


    I shut my eyes. They felt tired beyond this hour of the evening. Feldon cleared his throat and said, ¡°It is a lot to deal with. Take some time. You have had a long day.¡± I nodded back, even though I was barely listening to his words.


    He led me through the procedures of the lift, the pop of denser air, and to the normal world above of nurses milling about and patients smiling. I¡¯d never felt more detached from it. I tried to wear a smile, more to keep Feldon from asking any sudden questions.


    He put on his own face, the appearance of the genial healer. He touched children on the back and smiled widely as he conversed with them one by one. I wanted to believe this was closest to his true face, and the one I¡¯d seen underneath was just a means to an end. An end without the kind of pain he¡¯d lived through? Was that all?


    Once he¡¯d done some charting and visiting, Feldon invited me to return to my room for some rest. I nodded, all the while thinking about Mari and where she might be underneath us or in her own facilities. I asked him.


    His grin wavered, as he chewed on my question and offered, ¡°You can probably find her in one of the cabins towards the woods. She likes her privacy out there. I wouldn¡¯t visit her tonight. She¡¯s still¡­recharging.¡± I persisted and Feldon eventually scribbled the cabin number on an irregular square of torn paper.


    I wandered away from Feldon with only the most automatic of goodbyes as he lingered and held my hand with a wavering mouth and calm eyes. It was a kind look, a fatherly one. Just learning my genetics didn¡¯t feel like it changed as much for me as it seemed to for Feldon. Still, I wanted to see the girl who used to be my grandfather by birth.


    The evening showed the traces of the earlier storm. Pondering on what Feldon had said, I sniffed the air. Despite the dusty curls and sheltered mats of dark soil, I couldn¡¯t smell it. Even the wind didn¡¯t carry moisture on it.


    I went as far as the main paths would take me, wondering what was happening beneath my feet. The cabin numbering was fairly logical with the digits increasing as I got further from the main complex. Mari¡¯s cabin was the twenty-third and pretty much the last one I could make out, especially under the increasing cloak of the tree line after dusk.


    Her cabin looked like it belonged in the woods with a gravel trail branching off into other ones which vanished into the canopy. I ran a hand along the rough bark of the nearest tree and looked up. The moon, stark-white, pierced through the branches with the form of plate shards.


    It wasn¡¯t as fancy as the nearer complexes, but it was still enough to put something like my small apartment to shame. Carefully, I knocked on the front door and waited. I could hear footsteps just beyond. I presented myself before the peephole and listened to the rattling of the lock. Lily opened the door and stood before it with a nervous expression.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Hi¡­¡± was all she said at first. I returned the same and asked, ¡°Is Mari around?¡±


    Instead of answering, she opened the door a little wider to reveal a couch with Mari sprawled across it, her head propped up and her legs curling slightly under her. She blinked for a long time but gave me a look to say she was awake.


    Mari fidgeted. ¡°Hey¡­sorry about passing out. It happens sometimes. Work in progress, as I said.¡±


    Lily looked back but didn¡¯t say anything. I wondered what she might say. This was her father. Which was hard to imagine just looking at them and noticing their girlish youthfulness.


    Mari pushed herself up a little further and asked, ¡°So¡­.what did I miss?¡±


    I advanced into the cabin and Lily let the door close behind me. The amenities were simple. It was about what I expected from a cabin, but a tangle of bedrooms and little nooks led off out of sight with tight corners. I suspected from the outside there was a second floor I hadn¡¯t seen. I folded my arms and said, ¡°Feldon confessed a lot to me¡­because the test showed I¡¯m Rachel.¡±


    Lily cupped her mouth and stared. Her eyes seemed to shimmer and quiver at the same time. Mari¡¯s reaction came more slowly. She breathed a few times before saying, ¡°I had hope. So much. I wanted it. I don¡¯t know what I would¡¯ve done if it had been any other way¡­¡±


    I approached her and found some space at the end of her couch to sit with her. She pulled her legs in a little, so she wasn¡¯t bumping against me.


    After a few challenging breaths, she asked, ¡°You said¡­Feldon confessed? What do you mean?¡±


    I felt a little sick across the whole of my stomach at what I had to tell her. I hoped she might know something, but I began with the assumption she didn¡¯t know any more than I did.


    ¡°Feldon has secret facilities under the clinic for the special treatment of the rich and powerful.¡±


    Neither Lily nor Mari reacted with surprise. Instead, their mood seemed closer to resignation.


    Mari kept her vast eyes on me and asked, ¡°Was that all he told you?¡±


    I settled back and rubbed my forehead. ¡°No. He told me a lot. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s everything, but he wants to control people all around the world with his Memetic Crystalline, claiming it¡¯ll be for the best¡­¡±


    Leaning back, Mari cradled her head and muttered, ¡°Not wants. Does. Every day. The world you see has him pulling the strings now.¡±


    I shook my head and asked Mari and Lily in turn, ¡°And you¡¯re just okay with that? You too?¡±


    Lily clenched her hands and answered, ¡°No¡­but I don¡¯t oppose him.¡±


    Mari closed her eyes. ¡°Same. I dunno¡­maybe the world needs it. I¡¯ve seen it at its worst.¡±


    I gaped at the two of them. Lily cupped her eyes.


    I shook my head. ¡°So have I. I¡¯ve reported on terrible things. And I¡¯m sorry about what happened. But that doesn¡¯t give anyone the right to do this. Feldon is manipulating others because he thinks he deserves it.¡±


    Lily leaned forward. ¡°Do we have to talk about this now? I mean¡­you¡¯re Rachel. You¡¯re actually Rachel. I never thought¡­I never imagined I¡¯d ever see you again¡­¡± Lily¡¯s eyes filled with her kind of tears and I relaxed the tension along my neck slowly.


    I approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. With a sigh, I said, ¡°I guess I¡¯m Rachel. I don¡¯t know what it means now though. I was a baby in war-torn Ukraine, but I grew up here with challenging parents who took care of me. And¡­Feldon told me he tried to fix me as a baby¡­¡¯fix¡¯ my gender¡­¡±


    Lily cradled her neck. ¡°I approved of that¡­at the time I did. And I¡¯m so sorry. I just¡­I was so happy that I had nieces, that I wanted as many as possible.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t be angry with her, especially with the way her eyes trembled with pools of tears. I took a breath. ¡°Imagine if you learned that the body you had to grow up in had been forced upon you by people claiming they knew what was best¡­ You can¡¯t force gender and you can¡¯t force peace and change.¡±


    From their expressions, I sensed they agreed with me. Lily nodded slowly and softly said, ¡°Oh, I know. It¡¯s terrible. I¡¯m so much happier as I am, no matter if I have to be a lab rat¡­no matter what my brain is made of and no matter if my body is like a doll¡¯s.¡±


    I nodded with her. ¡°I understand. At the same time though, I don¡¯t understand why your father chose the same path.¡± I looked to Mari, who was still testing her limbs. She settled with my words.


    Even with Lily¡¯s gaze joining mine, Mari still held her tongue for a long moment, only to say, ¡°I¡¯ve told you all I wish to say about that¡­for now.¡±


    Despite reservations, I accepted that. The quiet of the room led to my next question, ¡°So, what happens now? What do we do?¡±


    Mari asked, ¡°Did you know that tunnels to observe the ranch exist beneath every building in the complex¡­.except for these cabins?¡±


    Raising an eyebrow, I asked, ¡°Can you be sure of that?¡±


    With a slight grimace, Mari answered, ¡°As sure as digging every spot in and around the building can be. Even then, I can¡¯t say with absolute certainty.¡±


    I was going to say I had equipment for detecting surveillance, but it was likely that Feldon had seen me while I was sleeping in the dormitory-type building last night. I thought back to the sound I¡¯d randomly heard. That could¡¯ve been him sneaking away underground. I hated to think of him with such nefarious notions, even with what I knew.


    I did some searching of my own, focusing on the floor. I didn¡¯t find anything but that didn¡¯t rule out methods that Feldon hadn¡¯t revealed to anyone else.


    Mari shrugged and told me, ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if this place is completely secure or not. As for what we can do¡­I have a plan. It¡¯s one I¡¯ve had for a while. Will you help me? It won¡¯t be easy.¡±


    Lily tensed up and asked, ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­what you said before, do you?¡±


    I felt lost, but I waited for Mari to explain. She gave Lily a quick glance and told us both, ¡°I don¡¯t intend to just throw away what meager life I¡¯ve been gifted. It¡¯s blank and discouraging, but what Rachel told me is right. I need to live. So¡­will you help me?¡±


    Holding her hands together, Lily looked between us without saying a word. I reached over and grasped her hand as she gave a little squeak. I grabbed Mari¡¯s hand with my other and said, ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever it takes¡­¡±

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 21: Plan

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 21: Plan


    Mari took me for a walk out in the nearby forest. I could tell she wanted to run, but she kept her pace down to something more manageable for me. It was already getting dark and the trees clung deep in shadow despite some hanging lights along the path.


    She stretched her neck and said, ¡°Feldon wouldn¡¯t bother to dig up this forest. He¡¯d consider it an insult.¡±


    I kept my eyes on the glowing lamps and the stark shadows against the tree limbs. ¡°What about hiding listening devices?¡±


    With a smirk, Mari noted, ¡°No way to tell. But I¡¯d guess that lining the forest with them would be a bit much. Another form of violating it. What do you think he¡¯s doing right now?¡±


    I honestly had no idea. It was an odd question for Mari to ask, but I pondered it. If I were Feldon, I¡¯d probably be checking in on things. But then one also had to consider he just learned that his long-lost daughter had been found. Although it sounded like he ¡°knew¡± what would happen, the affirmation meant a lot to him.


    I withheld a grimace. As a reporter, I often tried to keep a certain level of distance. To me. this was about the democratic integrity of the world. At the same time, it was my father¡¯s obsession and I was a part of it. I was inescapably linked.


    After pondering for a bit, I offered, ¡°He¡¯s probably thinking about me.¡±


    Mari nodded slowly. ¡°A fair guess. I¡¯ve seen him when you haven¡¯t. Everything he¡¯s done lately has been about you. Even if it¡¯s little comments or how he hasn¡¯t been around me as often. He¡¯s been excited to meet you.¡±


    I had a sense of where Mari was leading me, if this was about her apparent plan and not something else. I waited and listened as she told me, ¡°And he knows you¡¯re Rachel. He¡¯s spilled his biggest, darkest secrets to you. You see?¡±


    I remembered his displeasure when I wasn¡¯t happy with what he¡¯d done, and I also recalled his expression when we parted. He wanted more. I told Mari as much. This time she smiled and noted, ¡°Of course, we all want to see you more. Myself, I can¡¯t even get past simple relief. You seem like you turned out well. Aside from¡­.uh, never mind.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if she was leading to another hippy comment or one about how, just strolling through the forest, I was beginning to pant. But I was pretty confident in what she was trying to suggest to me about Feldon. I asked, ¡°Do you want me to be the distraction part of your plan, occupy his attention?¡±


    This time, Mari turned around to stop and look at me. ¡°Put bluntly. I mean, I only know of reporters in the most bitter of senses. Vultures trying to paint a token tragic tale out of our lives all those years ago. Nipping for political messages. But I assume you know what needs to be done to interview someone. After all, you¡¯ve been persistent with me.¡±


    I felt a pang of ambivalence about that. Still, she had a point. So, I asked, ¡°What do you need me to do exactly?¡±


    Mari stretched, though I was beginning to wonder if such movements were even necessary with a body like hers. ¡°My plan has a few allies. You¡¯ve probably met them: The worrier and the dreamer.¡±


    She didn¡¯t have to name names for me to understand she meant Kala and Edgar. I knew the latter was close to Mari, but I had no idea about the former. Mari explained, ¡°Kala has always been a free spirit. Worries about everything without letting it be consuming. However, Kala has always worried about a world manipulated by Feldon since¡­she knew enough to know what it meant.¡±


    A cool breeze traced down from the hills. I almost thought I detected the scent of rain from far off. ¡°So¡­why haven¡¯t you done anything before?¡±


    ¡°Who says we haven¡¯t?¡± Mari leaned against a tree and then elaborated, ¡°Kala actually has done a little bit on her own. There are limitations on the system put in there because Kala anticipated abuse. Even Feldon doesn¡¯t know what his strings in the brains of the influential and powerful can fully do.¡±


    I immediately looked around to make sure no one was listening. Not as though it mattered. We kept walking into the forest until we came to a bench carved from a fallen tree. It looked worn and bug-eaten in places, but it provided a nice place for both of us to sit. This was a much bigger thing for me than it seemed to be for Mari.


    We sat together silently. I shut my eyes for a time, blackening the already-dark forest. I didn¡¯t mind the abyss. It let me rest with the mental deluge. I also didn¡¯t mind when Mari decided to lean against me with her small but strong body.


    I couldn¡¯t hear her breath, nor could I feel a heartbeat or much of a warm presence against me. At the same time, I felt comforted to have her there. I couldn¡¯t imagine what it might be like to be her and I never for a moment wanted to learn what it was like through another of Feldon¡¯s experiments.


    Bugs zipped around the deep curtain of the forest, twinkling to life in the glow of the lamps along the path. Mari¡¯s face hung in stark shadow against me as she said, ¡°I could die here.¡±


    I shifted with a spike of alarm as she wore the faintest of smiles and amended, ¡°I¡¯m not going to. Well, I don¡¯t intend to. Not tonight.¡± Settling with relief, I brushed at her mossy hair as she pressed into me. Not enough to hurt, but I felt an urgency with her contact.


    We¡¯d have been quite a pair if this was a normal park in a normal city. A suited, androgynous fellow and a slim, youthful girl with anime hair. Would anyone have guessed what we were to one another?


    I held my grandfather as she told me softly, ¡°Thank you for today. No matter what happens tomorrow, no matter what happens beyond, I¡¯m so thankful I had today. I know I wasn¡¯t too keen on the whole thing, especially those clothes. But it almost felt like a little return to the good days gone by.¡±


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Resting my hand on her shoulder, I told her, ¡°All the good days don¡¯t have to be in the past.¡± I could feel her faintly nodding with that. ¡°I know. I just wish you could¡¯ve known all your sisters. I wish you all could¡¯ve grown up together. And maybe Feldon would¡¯ve been different. I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Considering that he was already trying to craft me into a flawless little girl before I even had a name, I doubted that but I held my tongue. Mari tugged on the side of my suit. Since she was dressed in her athletic clothes from earlier rather than the ones we bought, I asked her what happened to them.


    Quietly, she explained that the nurses had put them away for her, noting, ¡°They said they were nice. I still don¡¯t know how I feel. They¡¯re nice, but they¡¯re clothes for Aura. I don¡¯t mind you calling me a girl or cute because in my head I¡¯m taking it as a compliment of her and what face of hers I can save. But really and truly, I¡¯m not a girl. And neither are you.¡± Mari peered ahead at some featureless patch of the forest dense and dark.


    It was my turn to give a little smile as I added, ¡°True¡­although we all know Lily is a girl though.¡±


    Mari mirrored my expression. ¡°Absolutely. You need to get to know her better. Although I don¡¯t even know how well I know her. I just know I love her so much that I don¡¯t have words for it anymore. Even if it¡¯s just sitting together¡­¡±


    I thought about the two of us as we were and offered simply, ¡°Sitting together can be the best.¡± And that was about all we did. I could¡¯ve said more about what she brought up about gender and how neither of us were girls. That kind of thing still floated about in my head. I¡¯d wrestled with it for so long that I didn¡¯t even know for sure. I just knew I was me and I was happy to be beside Mari/Greenie/Michael...the Wind.


    Fittingly, a little breeze kicked up with that thought and curled around us on that crude bench. It wasn¡¯t long before Greenie slipped away from me and stood up. She turned with a calm, quiet expression and said, ¡°You need some rest. Tomorrow will be challenging.¡±


    Before we parted, she led me back to the cabin and made a crude list of everything I needed to do for my part of the plan. I read the entire thing several times to memorize it before she destroyed it.


    The walk back to the dorms was lonely but simple with the glow of the clinic like a lighthouse on the shore. I approached my room with a frown. I gazed at the ground surrounding it and stepped lightly even though it didn¡¯t matter.


    Once inside, I stood around with my eyes watching the floor. The tape hadn''t been disturbed. My inspection last night didn¡¯t turn up any peepholes and I really had no reason to suspect there would be anything in here. But still, with all of Feldon¡¯s secrets and the fact I knew there were facilities and corridors running right under my feet, I felt prickly just from standing. It reminded me of how little privacy I had at home. No door was allowed to be shut, no matter what I was doing. I was so happy to be away from there. This felt even worse.


    I took a breath. Then, the anxiety began to lessen. Yes, he was watching. Yes, here I was, laid bare. But I had choices. Immediately, I went to my big bag. The white cards I sometimes used for note-keeping when I was feeling particularly retro sat at the bottom.


    With a pen, I began marking the same message on each.


    WE NEED TO TALK in big, blocky letters. I placed a few on the floor, some on the walls, and a number in the window. I was shouting to Feldon through the darkness. After that, I relaxed, far more than I usually did on assignment. I even took a long shower and walked around the dorm with just the biggest towel around me I could find as I dried my hair. I kept the blinds closed.


    It was unnerving to sit so exposed. Not as though I was likely to be any more private in the bathroom. As I stood up, I let the towel fall to the ground. My legs wobbled. If Feldon was out there, then I guess I wanted him to see. It was his handiwork exposed. I wondered what the contours of my body would¡¯ve been without what he did to me.


    Say he¡¯d decided he wanted a son and pushed the mosaic in that direction instead. I could imagine the sharper lines around my jaw. Vestigial hairs that didn¡¯t bloom on my face would explode in dense, rich fields. I would surely be taller. Narrower, manly hips. Nicer thighs. A pretty boy nudged into masculine territory. I wondered how it would feel when I was aroused. When I very rarely had random dreams where I was a man, all the details felt wrong, like my brain was trying to convince myself that I¡¯d changed but the sensations of the waking world were cutting through like sharp splinters.


    I dressed in clothes I usually wore for comfort when I knew I wouldn¡¯t be seen. They were stiff from their usual hiding spot under everything else. In bed and with the lights out, I watched the ceiling. I felt clammy across my neck despite the long shower. I shifted more than usual. My gut gurgled in senseless protest. It used to feel desperately achy when I first started being Logan Harper professionally. I felt so afraid, but it also felt so right with every firm, echoing step I took with that face. I threw up more than once on assignment.


    With careful, long breaths, I didn¡¯t feel the pain as much. I didn¡¯t feel the anxiety for what tomorrow might bring. I was afraid, but a little flame of feeling inside told me it was the right thing to do. Feldon had no right to subvert the will of others, no matter who they were or what they¡¯d done.

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 22: Appearances

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 22: Appearances


    I went to sleep with the frail but constant self-assurance that the morning would bring a better day. At the edge of unconsciousness, I thought about the comic books I collected in secret against every pretty and cute thing my other parents tried to bury me in. How easy it was for heroes in those stories.


    Bad guys were brought to justice, crime was made to pay, and freedom was preserved. I didn¡¯t quite believe it then and especially not after so many dark and hopeless articles I¡¯d worked through. I wanted to believe it though. I wanted to believe that Feldon could be stopped and there would still be a better world.


    All I could say to myself in that tired moment was that, no matter what happened, this was the right thing for me to do.


    Despite my efforts at ease, I had one of those dreams I never talk about. My rare dreams of being a man fall into the more fantastical categories of dreams I have. This one started the same way. Or rather that was the first part I could remember.


    I was somewhere I didn¡¯t know, but I wasn¡¯t afraid. I was tall enough I could probably touch the ceiling if I tried. There were others around. I had a sense that it was an assortment of people I¡¯d met before. Even a few faces were familiar. Many seemed to loom nervously close. They were watching me.


    In the dream, I knew I was Logan Harper in body and presence. Every detail I wished I could show the most was on display. I had no reason to be nervous, but I still had a hollow feeling all through my body. Then, I saw Feldon. His eyes cut through all the others. His strange but familiar brow tightened across the white noise of so many other faces. He waved his hand once and a sense of vertigo overwhelmed me.


    I staggered in my shoe lifts and realized they were gone. The world around rose higher with a steady, ticking motion. Everyone was still watching me as my clothes swarmed around me. My short hair spilled over my ears like fleeing insects and kept going until it passed my neck.


    My heart thundered in my chest as I tried to reach my wrists through the advancing ends of my shirt cuffs. My Logan-style suit draped over me. The shoulder pads were gone. Before long, my cuffs were getting more manageable but only because my clothes were shrinking too.


    Like a steady shotgun fire, the eyes pressed closer with every moment I turned away from myself. My hips swelled and bulged with my narrow waist. My legs showed through what was quickly becoming a skirt. The dwindling sleeves vanished into a band to hold up what was transforming into a halter with string straps.


    I fought with the material. I tried to imagine my hands as a shield against my exposure. Mercifully, the shifting clothing stopped at something I remembered. With pink and flowers throughout, it was my uniform for days out with my mother. No exceptions. No alternatives. No loose or gender-neutral clothing. No random chances that someone at a restaurant might throw me a quick ¡°sir¡± without checking.


    Then, it got worse. The shallow crease of my cleavage deepened as my body swelled to push out the top. I didn¡¯t want to look at it. I didn¡¯t want to know any more. But I knew enough from the eyes all on me. The voices spread across me like a sea of whispers.


    The Hell is it? Waste of our time. WORTHLESS girl. Deformed. It¡¯s horrible. Hate it. What kind of body is that? Not good enough. Beat it. It deserves nothing. LIAR! NOTHING BUT LIES! EVIL! TERRIBLE!


    Little pin-pricks followed which swarmed like rocks whirling out of the darkness. Beyond all the faces, Feldon¡¯s loomed like a beast''s, as I heard his voice say, ¡°It¡¯s not good enough.¡±


    One of the verbal strikes was enough to break me out of my sleep. I sat there sweating and clammy, crouching on the bed. I took a few deep breaths before I looked down and realized the blankets were pulled around me. I couldn¡¯t remember if I¡¯d pulled them up. I was sure I¡¯d gone to bed on top of them.


    Flicking the lights on, I avoided the bed and stepped around slowly, unsure of every dark patch in the room. I took a drink of water from the tap and glanced over to the sink. One of my cards was placed to the side. I was sure I hadn¡¯t left one there. Written at the bottom, below my words, in careful handwriting, it read, ¡°Whenever you want.¡±


    I dropped the card to arc and dip to the floor. The only card missing from its original place was the one I¡¯d set in the window. None of the others had been moved. I crumpled them all up in the trash and sat in one of the chairs. I wasn¡¯t going to get much sleep for the rest of the morning.


    I tried for a short time, but little echoes of those written words merged with the fragments of my dream. I didn¡¯t know anything about it for certain right then but pieces of the words, and that I¡¯d been more of a girl than I ever wanted to be, stabbed through all my other thoughts.


    Clutching my head, I kept myself from crying. I had to be strong. Today was a vital day. At the same time, I had no idea what else I could possibly say to Feldon. Did I dare to say what so often fell with silence from my parents? Do I tell him that no matter what he did to me before I was born and when I was a baby, that I knew I should¡¯ve never been a girl. I shook my head.


    Eventually, I did get some sleep, but with my eyes on a hair-trigger to bolt open. They didn¡¯t do so till I heard a faint rap on my window. I leapt past the edge of my bed to peer out. Mari stood there with a thin track jacket on like she¡¯d just come from running. Coincidentally, it was in my favorite shade of blue.


    I waved to the glass and she gave the barest hint of a smile. She asked, just loud enough to be heard through the window, ¡°Ready?¡± I nodded back and used the back of a crumpled card to convey: GIVE ME 5 MINUTES.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    I dressed quickly in what began as my Logan Harper uniform but soon morphed into something lighter and not quite so formal. I changed out the recording tape from last evening with a new one and stuffed the old one in a special place reserved for pat-downs and surprise searches when dealing with heavy-handed and foreign government officials.


    Looking in the mirror, I didn¡¯t see Logan but I also didn¡¯t see my exposed self. It was good enough. Mari met me over by the door. One look in her eyes and I pulled my lips a little tighter. The only question which felt right to ask her was, ¡°How¡¯s running today?¡±


    Mari shifted between her legs, as though testing them before saying, ¡°I¡¯ve already done the equivalent of a 10K. Are you just waking up?¡±


    I gave a nod with a smile as Mari raised her eyebrows at me. I answered, ¡°Yes. But I had a long day yesterday. And you¡¯re¡­you know.¡±


    She mimed a puff of air and noted, ¡°You¡¯re thirty. My wife and I both did Ironman races once a year at that age. Just saying. It¡¯s kinda what inspired Aura, I suppose.¡±


    I sighed with my lip curled and offered, ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t have Aura or you in my life. Blame that if you like.¡± Mari¡¯s expression softened and she looked towards the main clinic and added, ¡°I know. Anyway, wanna get some breakfast?¡±


    I was eager for that but asked her, ¡°I would, but should you eat?¡±


    Mari stretched her limbs in ways that seemed slightly unnatural and admitted, ¡°I won¡¯t be eating. But that doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t share a table. Is that alright?¡±


    With a smile filled with more ease than I felt in that moment from all the thoughts and fears crashing through my head, I told her, ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡±


    We turned to head towards the cafeteria when I heard a voice calling from far off. It was Lily. She was racing at Greenie speed across the distance between the forest and the dorm buildings. Planting her feet in front of us, she seemed to mime a pant before she settled. Clutching her hands in front of her, she asserted firmly, ¡°I¡¯m going with you!¡±


    Mari gave a tight expression and said, ¡°We talked about this last night. We¡¯re fine.¡± Lily hustled ahead of her and added, ¡°But I didn¡¯t agree to it. I can help. And besides, we always have meals together. Why can¡¯t we all have it together?...If that¡¯s okay with you, Mr. Harper.¡± Lily faced me with her head dipped slightly. I appreciated her words with a little nod.


    Clutching her forehead, Mari muttered something inaudible to herself before softly pointing out, ¡°You know the sort of day we¡¯re going to have, right?¡±


    Lily nodded vigorously, her face a blur as she reached her hands out. ¡°That¡¯s why I want to be with you.¡±


    Her shoulders sunk slightly, but she gave a simple gesture for Lily to follow her. I indulged in my own smile as we all walked together. I didn¡¯t see Feldon along the way. I didn¡¯t even notice any familiar faces among the nursing staff but then they were probably on a rotation shift. I did want to stop by Edgar, but I remembered Mari¡¯s instructions from last night.


    The cafeteria didn¡¯t have that many people but it still moved with as much energy as if it were a busy lunchtime. Mari did actually wind up picking out something from the offerings. It just wasn¡¯t what I expected. While Lily put together the smallest portion of cake I¡¯d ever seen her eat, Mari took the fake plastic burger from the end of the line. I mixed some breakfast mainstays like hash browns, eggs, and biscuits along with a small portion of salad.


    For a few seconds, I thought Mari had gotten an actual burger on her plate and nearly asked why her change of mind. But everything about the entree was a little too sharp in color and too perfect to be real. I glanced from the burger to her and asked instead, ¡°You aren¡¯t going to eat that, right?¡±


    Shaking her head, Mari only noted, ¡°Appearances, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Lily wasn¡¯t so concerned with appearances, but she did eat conservatively. She gazed fondly into her confection between samples. I just ate, trying to keep a vaguely-queasy feeling down with whatever I could put in my mouth. The last time I¡¯d been this nervous, I met a man who slaughtered millions during a foreign government¡¯s climate refugee purge. He was on every international criminal list and he lived in a seaside estate with several women on the side. We talked about pretty women (he had a creepy crush on several American actresses) for a good while. At least he never doubted Logan¡¯s gender.


    With the way he would point to his collection of guns, knives, and Hollywood movies, it took every ounce of willpower not to vomit in front of him. Even after my story, he still wanted to be friends online.


    There indeed were terrible people in the world. Feldon was right there. But his brand of ¡®justice¡¯ was just another abuse of power over humanity. Reminding myself of this did some good to settle my stomach. Still, I didn¡¯t finish everything on my plate. Nor did Lily.


    She paused with a few sloppy but shimmering bites with who-knew-what flavors biting at her mouth. Poking at a remnant she said softly, ¡°It¡¯s a shame we need regular care and maintenance¡­¡± Mari flashed a look and Lily buried her next words with a swallow of pastry. I could see Lily trying to steady her arms against the table as she swallowed. Those unnatural tears dabbed around her eyes and she dashed them away with a forced smile.


    Mari gave a little snort and ran a finger over her phony burger. ¡°We never know what the future holds. I couldn¡¯t have predicted I would be sitting here¡­.together and across from those I love. I never expect a single day I have, but I¡¯m always grateful for them.¡± She cast her eyes down.

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 23: The Hollow Men

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 23: The Hollow Men


    Lily leaned towards her with her eyes shut and an easy smile on her face. I reached across the table, and she clutched my hands. I held back tears and then felt a small, thick lump passed to me in her grasp. Mari wore a careful poker face and scratched at her ear with a wink at me as she leaned against Lily.


    Cupping my hand, I brought it up to my ear as Mari gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. After a moment of turning, the lump passed easily into my ear like a hearing aid, completely hidden from view. It should¡¯ve blocked my hearing in that ear, but it was like it was hollow through the center. With no idea what to do next, I just listened.


    In that ear, like a soft whisper, I heard Ada say, ¡°If you can hear me, cough twice.¡± I followed her directions, and she continued, ¡°Edgar is here too. This is all courtesy of Kala. Greenie and Lily can both hear me too. Kala is routing through the slight crystalline in your nerves to make this possible.¡± That unsettled me, but there was nothing I could do about it.


    Ada continued to explain, ¡°It¡¯s cruder with you because you have less to work with but, if you think about saying a word, we should be able to communicate. No promises.¡±


    ¡°Can you hear me?¡± I didn¡¯t say it aloud. I did think about the motion of saying that and the sound I expected it to make when spoken. In my head, it was a little more boyish and masculine than when it reverberated through my skull.


    Ada¡¯s answer came with a long pause. ¡°Barely but it¡¯s a connection. I¡¯ll be with you at least. It¡¯s almost go time.¡±


    I tried something a little tougher and asked, ¡°Didn¡¯t Feldon save you? Why do this?¡±


    Another long pause. Ada chuckled and her voice shifted to Edgar¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯ve had that chat so often with Greenie in our little times together. I fear more for the kids in this place. Without Feldon, I have no idea what will become of the clinic for those most in need. There¡¯s no easy way through this. It¡¯s up to Feldon to concede. But that¡¯s later. For now, you¡¯re up first.¡±


    I asked her what to do and she passed along a quick flurry of directions. With a breath, I kept it all in mind and stood up from the table. I told Lily and Mari, the nerves returning at their worst, ¡°It was nice having breakfast with you both, but I have something I need to do.¡± They just gave me little nods as I turned and made my way to the nearest door. The cafeteria was beginning to swell with staff as I left.


    I knew the way without needing to think about it. Feldon¡¯s door was wide open and I could see the edge of him through it. His desk was cleared off, which unnerved me more than a little. Ada told me, ¡°I¡¯ll be going silent unless it¡¯s something important. Sorry to leave you on your own, but we know you can do it.¡±


    And then there were no more voices in my ear to cover up my heartbeat. I took a breath, brushed my clothes once, and stepped into his office.


    Feldon didn¡¯t look over as I entered. I folded my arms and shook my head as I told him, ¡°Way to scare the shit out of me when I woke up.¡± I held up the crumpled paper with my inquiry and his answer from my room.


    Folding his hands on the table, Feldon cleared his throat and answered with his eyes finally resting on me, ¡°If it makes you feel any better, I did not enter your room. I just opened up a hidden pneumatic tube we use for delivery. I assume you left all those there to see if I was watching.¡±


    I stressed the point, ¡°And you were. Did you watch me the whole night?¡±


    He leaned his head towards the window on the other side of the room. ¡°Not the whole night. But I checked in on you. I wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked like you were having a nightmare.¡±


    I took a breath. ¡°I was. A bad one.¡± Feldon averted his eyes with a nod, before answering, ¡°Best to let those go. I have plenty of bad dreams full of silent gunfire, bursts of blood, and coldness.¡±


    His words made me flinch. I bowed my head as he tapped on the table and offered, ¡°So, you wanted to talk?¡±


    I lifted my head and stared him down. ¡°It was a lot to take in yesterday. I¡¯m thankful for what you told me. And I¡¯ve had time to think about it¡­¡±


    I held onto my words. Feldon remained steady in his seat, eager but still willing to wait me out. I continued, ¡°I want you to give it up. Junk this mind-control machine of yours. Do good for the world as a doctor, not a manipulator.¡±


    Feldon sighed into his hands, as he muttered, ¡°I am a doctor, always. And the job of a doctor is not as easy as you might imagine from what I¡¯ve shown you. Sure, sometimes it¡¯s simply patting kids on the back and telling them everything is going to be alright. But you also need to make difficult choices for what will do the most good.¡±


    Shaking my head slowly, I told him, ¡°They¡¯re not your choices to make. Everyone has to make their own choices. Some will be shitty choices, but they have the right to that. If they break the law, then I can punish them with my words and the system can deal with them.¡±


    He clutched the table tightly and asked me, ¡°How many corrupt and destructive people have been justly punished¡­Men and women who have made the world worse from their existence? Far too few. Why? You talk about the system¡­They are the system, they make the system and its rules. Only idealists can ever imagine that system truly punishing the right people.¡±


    I didn¡¯t waver from his words. ¡°How do you know your way has done good? The world is still a ball of chaotic climate, suffering, and war.¡±


    Here, Feldon relaxed. He was prepared for this question, as he informed me, ¡°Not every treatment is swift or immediately obvious in its effects. Many key individuals have passed through these doors but not everyone can make it here. In the future, I hope to seed a lot of the effects into Memetic Crystalline-based products used by people all over the world, this will provide a much larger usable sample size.¡±


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I gripped my chair and shook my head. ¡°Are you hearing what you¡¯re saying and what it means? Control of everyone in the world, removal of free will. You want to make us all like perfect little synthetics, only thinking and feeling and doing what you want!¡±


    With a sigh of exasperation, Feldon waved his hand. ¡°You¡¯re overreacting. I¡¯m saying nothing of the sort. What I¡¯m saying and you are not hearing is that I am trying to root out the cancers of this world and make those bad cells into ones which benefit the whole. Unfortunately, I must act on the whole, as doctors had to when you were young, to best achieve this end.¡±


    He was acting more restrained than last evening. I wanted to get more traction and more feeling, but I reminded myself I was just a distraction. It was too much to hope that I could find some combination of words that might reach him and change his mind.


    Still, I pressed. ¡°You¡¯re behaving like a cancer. You want to spread to everywhere and everything and overwrite what¡¯s there. Sure, there are plenty of bad things and people in the world, but you¡¯re worse.¡±


    Feldon barely resisted a flash of anger. He pushed hard against his table. ¡°I have saved lives! I¡¯ve swayed despots. I¡¯ve convinced killers to embrace life. I¡¯ve nudged the greedy from avarice to charity¡­.And the man responsible for the civil war which shattered our family and broke the peaceful country we once loved¡­has chosen to renounce his past and has lived...a long and healthy life. A life your sisters and mother deserved far more. But he lives¡­.he lives¡­¡± Feldon ground his teeth together and held back any further words.


    I noted the tired shadows around Feldon¡¯s eyes as he bowed his head. He didn¡¯t look like he¡¯d gotten any sleep. Actually, I¡¯d never seen him sleep. I relaxed my gaze, but not too much, as I clutched the shoulders of my chair and pushed myself to my feet.


    ¡°What you¡¯ve done with the power to control others doesn¡¯t matter. What matters is that you have no right to that power in the first place. No one does.¡±


    Bending his head up, Feldon muttered, ¡°In an ideal world. But we don¡¯t live in that. If it wasn¡¯t me, it could be someone with far worse intentions. Too many Memetic Crystalline product clients have wondered whether what I do would be possible. Fortunately, I¡¯ve kept enough secrets from them. If not for me¡­.I dare not imagine what would follow.¡±


    I didn¡¯t relish the possibility either, but I kept countering the notion that such a thing had to exist.


    Feldon kept his same tone as he continued, ¡°But it does exist. Memetic Crystalline and the Cellular types made from it have saved and improved so many lives. Part of me wishes I¡¯d never found this method of using Memetic Crystalline but the rest of me is glad the secret is protected.¡±


    Shaking my head, I begged, ¡°What about changing Memetic Crystalline so it can¡¯t be manipulated in this way?¡±


    While Feldon didn¡¯t immediately scoff at the possibility, he told me with certainty, ¡°Memetic Crystalline is all about plasticity and the ability to manipulate that quality. You remove what makes it dangerous, you also remove what makes it special.¡±


    I pressed that there had to be another way. I even carefully invoked Kala, which brought Feldon to tell me it was Kala who first hypothesized this was something to be worried about with Memetic Crystalline. No words came in through my earpiece until Feldon admitted, with a sigh, ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s just how things are.¡±


    The silence after his words was broken by Ada telling me, ¡°Follow my directions when I speak again.¡±


    I swallowed despite a dry mouth and a churning stomach. Feldon looked calm but still tired as he asked, ¡°So, was there anything else you wanted to talk about?¡±


    I could tell where he was leading me, but I was only listening with half my thoughts. I cobbled together, ¡°No. But there¡¯s a lot of things I should talk about. And I¡¯m trying to work through all of them in my head at once.¡±


    The lecturer feeling to Feldon receded and the face he showed before the children of the clinic began to poke through again as he told me, ¡°You don¡¯t have to keep it all alone. Tell me.¡±


    I led my eyes to wander around the room in mimicry of being lost in thought. I offered, ¡°Family. It¡¯s about family, as you said. All about family. I¡¯m not sure what family means to me right now. I have a family which raised me with decent intentions but not the kindest nature.¡± I chewed on my lip.


    Feldon narrowed his eyes with a feeling which passed over contempt and jealousy without touching upon them. I continued, ¡°Now, since yesterday, I know I¡¯ve always had another family which is no less a part of me. A family that shaped me as well. And I¡¯m not sure what my future is with either family.¡±


    With a sigh, Feldon went as slack as I¡¯d seen him. He nodded slowly. ¡°I know it¡¯s complicated, especially right now. It¡¯s so very difficult for me to see you as anything but smiling little Rachel trying out her first words. But¡­.that was so very long ago. Still, no matter what name you take for yourself, no matter what you feel or think¡­please know that I will always love you as¡­my child.¡±


    They were the kind of words I heard far too rarely or not at all from my other parents. I took a breath and leaned back in my chair. I wasn¡¯t ready for anything more than, ¡°Thank you.¡± He nodded in return with a relaxed gaze.


    Then, Ada¡¯s voice said, ¡°It begins.¡±


    A heartbeat later, every alarm in the clinic blared in sync.

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 24: No Going Back

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 24: No Going Back


    Despite the alarm, I could still hear Ada in my ear above the din telling me, ¡°Stay with him.¡±


    I jumped up as Feldon did and matched his alarm with my expression. I tried to ask questions, but he waved me off with a hand, saying, ¡°Probably nothing.¡± His expression said something different. He looked rattled.


    I persisted, but he wasn¡¯t listening. Following him soon became impossible as he closed the door to his office, sealing me inside. I banged and yelled through the wood, met only with his muffled words, ¡°Stay here¡± and nothing more.


    Hitting with both fists, I slumped and turned away. Ada explained, ¡°Good. We knew he¡¯d do that. Worth trying to follow him but this is better.¡±


    I tried to form the words only in my head for Ada, but it came out as an idle mutter, ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    Edgar took the opportunity to explain, ¡°It¡¯s the containment alarm. It¡¯s the procedure Kala set up in case of Memetic Crystalline spreading beyond where it should be when active. False alarm but enough to get Feldon¡¯s attention.¡±


    Anticipating my next question, Edgar added, ¡°The whole room, even the door, is lined with an inhibiting agent for Memetic Crystalline, that¡¯s likely why Feldon told you to stay here. But this room, like Aura¡¯s, should have access to the lower levels. Look for something which seems out of place.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t terribly helpful, but I began my search with the stacked papers behind Feldon¡¯s desk and started working my way around the room. There was far too much to focus on though. Too many books, too many shelves. Too much¡­.oh. The shelves.


    Indeed, there seemed to be too many shelves, to the point that books seemed to run together and repeat themselves. Actually, they did. A side row had the same books in it three times. I pulled on the one at eye-level and a latch clicked behind the shelf.


    The bookshelf swung back with a gentle push, revealing a hidden corridor. I scoffed at the opening but quickly stepped through it. The elevator was just a short ways back. It was the same design as the one attached to Aura¡¯s room but much smaller. Only intended for one person at a time. I pressed the button marked ¡°Air¡±, a silvery door unfurled to seal the elevator, and I quickly descended.


    When it stopped, the elevator opened to a brightly lit but narrow corridor like the others Feldon had shown me below the surface. I leaned out to glance left and right. I didn¡¯t see anyone else, so I made my way out of the elevator and down the hall.


    While I had Mari¡¯s jotted down plan in my head and what Ada and Edgar had told me so far, a lot of that was left for me to fill in. I paused and waited a long moment for some voice in my ear. With the dense, uncomfortable silence, I started moving down the hallway till I came to a junction.


    Looking down each path, I noticed there were white flashing lights further down. Some sort of silent alarm. Probably why there was no one down here. Perhaps they¡¯d evacuated. At least the lower levels were still negative pressurized.


    ¡°Left.¡± Finally, words from Ada again. I immediately took a left and followed the corridor all the way down until I came to a laboratory area with frosted windows. I remembered it. This was where Feldon had brought me last evening, only it was on the other side respective to where we¡¯d been.


    The nearest door hissed open and Mari poked her head out. She gestured for me to follow her through. We passed through a series of doors until we came to an area near where Feldon had shown me the control system he used. Mari gestured to the crystalline strings and said, ¡°He has several fake systems planted around, but this should be the real one. All the backups are in here. All access is through here.¡± Ada filled me in on the details.


    ¡°This is where Feldon makes his adjustments. It¡¯s normally not accessible to anyone but him. But, in an emergency containment situation, the security procedure permits access by anyone. Of course, getting here is not the problem. The problem is I¡¯m not completely sure that I have control of the air systems. Fortunately, Mari is with you. Lily is nearby too.¡±


    I noticed her quickly. She was through the frosted glass and in a room next to the one we were in. She leaned up against the wall with her arms folded. I looked around the tables for something sharp as I said, ¡°We need to cut the access.¡±


    Ada seemed to agree, but she cautioned, ¡°I¡¯m not sure whether there¡¯s a further fail safe. Kala is paranoid but taught Feldon well. He might¡¯ve included something we haven¡¯t even found. We need to stick to the plan for now.¡±


    What plan there was¡­I took a breath and still picked up a pair of surgical scissors tucked away in a side drawer. Aside from the web-like blue lines of the control system, the main backup of the complicated formula for producing Memetic Crystalline and its sibling compounds was displayed right next to it.


    Stretching my fingers through the console, I soon found it was possible to issue a delete command to the entire system. I held my breath.


    ¡°STOP!¡±


    Feldon¡¯s voice cut clearly through the silence, even with those thick walls. I whirled around to see him, his eyes wide and his fists raised to the glass. It was clearly too thick for his hands to beat through. I didn¡¯t see Lily.


    Mari stepped closer with her arms stretched out and yelled, ¡°It¡¯s too late! It¡¯s in your child''s hands.¡± No pressure.


    I steeled my resolve and glared back at Feldon. He shook his head slightly and asked, ¡°How could you do this?¡±


    Really, I should¡¯ve just shown him. Not a word. Not a breath. Just one motion and it would¡¯ve been done. But I drew back my hands and told Feldon, ¡°How could you choose who you wanted me to be before I was born? How could you choose to define what is right and what is wrong? Maybe I¡¯m just following in your footsteps.¡±


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Feldon clenched his teeth. I could see shadows of people running around behind him as he said, ¡°They¡¯re not choices I would ever make lightly. If you make this choice¡­you will have to live with the consequences. You don¡¯t want to do that.¡±


    I snarled back at him. ¡°Do you think I don¡¯t know that?...They don¡¯t deserve this. But none of us deserve to be controlled by someone who thinks they have¡­the best intentions.¡±


    Slowly, Feldon¡¯s body relaxed and he quit pressing against the glass. His expression was reserved as he said, ¡°I love you, Rachel¡­.Leslie¡­Logan¡­whichever name makes you happiest to hear. My child. There has to be another way.¡±


    Hearing him say Logan and feeling like he was on the verge of uttering ¡°son¡± did soothe me, but I remained vigilant. ¡°I want there to be another way. I want you to just give up this project and make good of what you¡¯ve done. You¡¯ve done so much good and this spoils it. But I know whatever you might promise for later is only as certain as the glass separating us.¡±


    His eyes dipped as his hands slid across the glass. The alarms still blinked at regular cycles. He spoke quietly but loud enough to be heard through it. ¡°I know. Sadly, I know. I want to be a good man. But I can only be who I am and I would set fire to the entire world if it meant there would be no more people like those who slaughtered our family¡­those who would let children suffer and die without a second thought.¡±


    I thought about the children above my head. Did Feldon see me as one of those same people? I asked him and he clenched up, vehemently denying, ¡°Never! I know you already. I knew you when you were born. I¡¯ve seen your writings. I¡¯ve known you these scant but vital days. It¡¯s so much less than it should be. but I know my child.¡±


    I looked to the console and asked, ¡°So, you know what I¡¯m going to do?¡±


    I could hear him behind me as he said, ¡°Despite what you might think, I am not inside your head. I can only hope for what will happen.¡±


    I took a breath, looked over the controls, listened to an instruction from Ada, and moved my hand. Was it really my hand? It was hard to believe. I stood there and operated the controls. I issued the command to shut down all the connections of control and I destroyed the archives. And all it took was a single motion of my hand. Such a small thing to connect the fates of millions.


    The console immediately blackened, and the strands evaporated. I looked to Mari and she bowed her head after a solemn nod. I heard a long sigh behind me before Feldon asked, ¡°How could you? How?¡±


    I took a deep breath and told him. ¡°With many second thoughts. With a mind full of doubt. With a heart knowing how much good you¡¯ve done and could do but realizing it¡¯s too dangerous.¡±


    Feldon pressed his hand along the glass. ¡°I am still a little surprised. I respect your resolve despite everything you know...But I couldn¡¯t allow you the burden of that choice.¡±


    My eyes widened as I realized his words and what they meant. ¡°What did you do?¡±


    Tapping a bit of glass, Feldon brought the console to life again with the same image. ¡°I respect Kala, but Kala has taught me to share in their same paranoia. I knew about her involvement along with Edgar and Lily. I almost let you do it. I pondered it sleeplessly. But I couldn¡¯t let it happen.¡±


    I pushed forward, I tried to make Feldon think I was the ringleader, but he quickly waved me off. ¡°No need. I know the details. I think no less of any of them. They did what they believed right, same as I have always done.¡±


    I nearly made my way to the glass before Mari¡¯s hand reached out to pull me back. She told me, ¡°It¡¯s over. I¡¯m sorry for getting you involved.¡± I turned back, while clutching her hand. ¡°No. I made my own choice.¡±


    Feldon watched calmly and manipulated the glass to open a door on the side. ¡°You may leave now, if you wish. I¡¯ll tell the staff it was a security test program that malfunctioned. They still need to get ready for a surgical guest.¡±


    Still clutching Mari¡¯s hand, I asked, ¡°Guest?¡± Feldon gave me the base details and I started to piece together the implicit meaning. The Russian president, the one he¡¯d kept alive despite advancing age and turned into a humanitarian, was coming for special surgery.


    As Feldon said, ¡°His implanted Memetic Crystalline has been acting up recently¡±, I very much doubted it was a coincidence. It wasn¡¯t long before Lily made her way over to us. She looked fine but with tears pooling around her eyes. She hugged me and Mari and apologized over and over. We learned she had tried to provide a distraction to Feldon in the form of a series of very eager questions and even attempted to cling to his legs.


    I pushed Lily and Mari both behind me and stated, ¡°Don¡¯t you dare do anything to them.¡±


    Feldon¡¯s gaze crinkled with surprise. ¡°What do you think I am?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you are¡­¡±


    More than anything else, those words seemed to rattle him. He tightened his lips and said, ¡°Then, I will have to show you¡­¡±


    Carefully, he looked to both Mari and Lily. He addressed each in turn and said he ¡°held no ill will¡±. He also seemed to speak to Kala and Edgar/Ada, though they were unseen. I didn¡¯t know if any of them could hear through my earpiece, but I hadn¡¯t heard a voice from it in quite some time.


    He spoke a little of Memetic Crystalline and focused on words of regret that so many things were ¡°incomplete¡±. His gaze even found me at this point. I could see, fleetingly, the doctor who delighted in children feeling better and curing the seemingly impossible. A sense of melancholy concerned me though and I had to ask, ¡°Are you going to do what I was going to do? Are you going to shut down the Mantlemay Project?¡±


    Feldon took a deep breath and said, ¡°In a way, it concluded when I finally found you again. Things will have to change. And there is no going back...¡±

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 25: Compromise

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 25: Compromise


    I attempted a smile at hearing that. Better words from Feldon. It wasn¡¯t long before the staff started to return and Feldon put on a pleasant face for all of them. With us, he quietly uttered, ¡°I have much to do. But I will do what I must for my arriving guest...probably the last.¡±


    With a solemn nod, I watched him depart for another room. Soon after that, Ada¡¯s voice returned, ¡°Sorry, kid. Guess it was a fool¡¯s errand from the start.¡± I shook my head and told her, ¡°No. It seems like Feldon finally listened to me. I¡¯ll keep on him though. But¡­I¡¯m encouraged.¡± I looked to Lily and Mari, their expressions were subdued, but they nodded back at me.


    I relayed Feldon¡¯s words. Kala chirped in a little to offer, ¡°Make super super all sure no copout. See concerns always.¡±


    Kala was right. I¡¯d have to keep persistent. The thought about my article returned to me. I¡¯d waffled between writing it and feeling like it would be pointless. It would be my leverage. There was so much I could say if he reneged on dismantling the control system. It would be a good compromise. Sure, he wouldn¡¯t be able to influence the ¡®corrupt and powerful¡¯ but perhaps a version of the Project could keep running, especially for those in dire need like Edgar, all those children, and Mari and Lily. They would all be okay. For the first time in a good while, I let myself really breathe.


    Some nurses came in to check up on Mari and Lily. Something like an hour passed but it was hard to tell with only the harsh lights and no windows. I turned away when they removed pieces of the two of them to check the integrity of their joints. I was focused on Feldon beyond the frosted glass. He was probably only doing a half measure. Terminating the entangled connections and perhaps purging that research. Even if that was all he did, then that would be enough.


    The nurses were finishing up with Mari and Lily when Feldon finally returned. He looked faintly grim but said only, ¡°The guest just arrived. The main surgical suite has an observation area¡­if you want to see.¡±


    Mari and Lily both tensed up with Mari tightening her freshly-serviced fists. My first thought was to decline. I¡¯d only heard about the man in history books. That he and his decisions were responsible for what happened to my family still existed as an intangible but nightmarish notion. Lily quickly chirped, ¡°For Dalya¡­maybe.¡±


    Setting her hand on Lily¡¯s shoulder, Mari muttered, ¡°I don¡¯t see how it¡¯ll do any good¡­for anyone¡­for us to be there.¡±


    Feldon dipped his head and acknowledged, ¡°Your choice. I just thought it might offer some closure...¡±


    I reached out for Mari and resolved, ¡°I¡¯m going. And I need you.¡± I wasn¡¯t sure why I said that. The whole prospect was distasteful. But that vague feeling, not quite memory, maybe some remnant of when I was little more than an infant, did indeed need something like closure. I¡¯d seen photos of the man, a pale shadow of his once propagandized, horseback-riding athleticism. But I needed to see him.


    And. besides, if this was the end of Feldon¡¯s secret surgical procedures then it was worth it to my reporter side to at least see how it all went down.


    Mari grimaced with displeasure but sighed and agreed to join me.


    It wasn¡¯t a long walk to the surgical area, which was already being prepped. Before he left us, I asked Feldon, ¡°How many times have you done this?¡±


    He cast me a curious glance with his hands folded. ¡°This?...First time. But we¡¯ve had thousands of guests through the years.¡± I raised an eyebrow at that odd phasing but didn¡¯t say anything as he left us.


    I turned to Mari and Lily, who found some placed folding chairs towards the front of the observation area. I sat down between them. Mari rubbed her eyes and Lily looked down at her hands. I had to ask, ¡°Are you two going to be okay?¡±


    Mari stretched up and assured me quickly. Lily tried a smile and nodded. I hoped with all my heart Feldon was being genuine. If he wasn¡¯t, then I already knew the article I would write to shame and ruin him. I didn¡¯t want to write it but it felt inevitable.


    While the pre-op work continued, I asked both Mari and Lily about their procedures and whether it had been done down here.


    They shook their heads. Their conversions had been done in a different area. Mari rubbed her neck and volunteered first, ¡°I was terrified. I felt this crippling chest pain just thinking about it. My entire body, every ounce of my flesh, every piece that made me who I was, would be gone. An artificial construct, a preserved copy, was going to replace it. It was impossible to sleep thinking about it. But it went slow, bit by bit. And I was reassured seeing Lily was the same person I always remembered.¡±


    Lily¡¯s face fluttered with a slight smile as she said, ¡°I was just as scared. But¡­in a way, it was okay to me if I just stopped existing¡­because all that time I felt like I was already gone.¡±


    I brought back the story of the Ship of Theseus which Feldon had mentioned and my answer that everyone keeps changing.


    Mari nodded and sighed. ¡°It¡¯s something more when you change everything about who you are. I don¡¯t even have a name I feel certain about. All I know is that I¡¯m terrified of not existing¡­and I¡¯m even more terrified that that¡¯s all which this ''me'' can remember of the other me.¡±


    I assured her, ¡°Each you is you. You¡¯ve just been reshaped by life and Memetic Crystalline medicine. You¡¯ve told me so much. You remember everything.¡±


    She curled her lip and noted, ¡°But do I remember it because that¡¯s what this body is supposed to do¡­.be a reservoir of the past, of someone who used to exist?¡±


    I slipped an arm over her shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But you can make new memories. You made new ones yesterday. You tried on your first dress¡­.¡± Lily jumped in with, ¡°I wish I could¡¯ve seen it!¡± Mari assured her it wasn¡¯t worth it.


    I continued, ¡°¡­Your life is whatever you want to make it. Both of your lives. And I want with every ounce of ¡®myself¡¯ to share those lives with you. You may not have been who you were before. But neither am I. I¡¯ll never be who I was before I came here again. Just like I¡¯ll never be the person I was before I left my other family. Or before I was taken away from my first home. Or before that. But the days to come, however many they are, no matter how they are¡­I want to grip tightly to each of them with both of you and never let them go.¡±


    In the back of my head, I wanted to add Feldon to that mix. But I didn¡¯t know how I felt about the future with him. For the near-future, I was curious to see him operate. I adjusted the recorder in my pocket and made sure there was still enough recording left till noontime at least.


    Though I enjoyed the presence of Lily and Mari, my attention gradually shifted to the people entering the surgical suite. It was clear some of them weren¡¯t with the clinic nursing staff. They were tall and dressed in dark suits. Their eyes scanned all over the room before they said something in a foreign language to one another. I knew they were bodyguards. That dictator I¡¯d interviewed and written about had several. Some of his were clad in camouflage gear but these guys were meant to look like your average lawyer while being able to bench press a person.


    Once the crowd of bodyguards had formed a wall around the door, they slowly parted to reveal a man who even I recognized on sight. Barely over five and a half feet tall and looking even smaller with his body slumping in the wheelchair, sat the man who was once the most feared and "respected" in all of the Russian Federation. His hair was reduced to a fuzzy fringe at the back of his head. His broad head was mottled with spots. His neck clenched with ropy veins and muscles. Dark spots blemished his temple. He looked more like some distant relative I¡¯d seen when I was far too young to understand what they were supposed to mean to me, if they meant anything at all.


    His lined eyes scanned the room back and forth with his hands folded in his lap. An idle smile crossed his face.


    It wasn¡¯t long before the nursing staff led him over to the main operating table. The bodyguards were draped in gowns and masks as the rest of the staff went through limited sterilization procedure. I figured most of it was intended to keep the Crystalline pure for transplantation, but I could only guess at what kind of procedure was going to be done.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    As I sat there, I looked to Mari and Lily in turn. They both peered for a long time at the guest. They didn¡¯t smile much. I tried to be as stern as they were but, to be perfectly honest, he didn¡¯t really mean anything to me. He was just some old man who often got mentioned in the news. It didn¡¯t really connect to me that he was responsible for the military forces who led to the wounding and deaths of family members I couldn¡¯t remember. But it was a long chain of orders and it was a long time ago. I was sure that for Feldon this would be quite difficult, but he looked at ease as the room was prepared.


    Step by step, everything was set. The injectors were all lined up with the normal surgical equipment. It started about the same as my minor procedure a few days before. I tapped my neck as a reminder of what lay beneath.


    The difference here was that so many more steps were involved along with a direct conduit to the brain. It all seemed to be going normally. The guest was carefully restrained so the injections could be precisely placed. Then, Feldon looked me right in the eye behind his face mask. His eyes were still and glossy. I was certain he couldn¡¯t see any of us through the glare of the lamps above and the thick glass but his gaze pierced right through me. Mari instantly sat up in her chair.


    Seconds later, the old man started coughing. It was muffled through the glass but still loud, louder than any noise I thought an old man¡¯s throat could make. Feldon leaned close to the old man with that same, still look and seemed to say something. The nurse nearest Feldon appeared unsettled. The bodyguards fidgeted.


    Slowly, the coughing stopped. Feldon passed an instrument to a nurse on the other side of the operating table and she gently pressed it against the old man¡¯s head. This time, the screaming began.


    If the coughing was loud, then the screaming sounded like it was right next to me. The old man convulsed violently in the restraints. The nurses rushed to hold him down. To his credit, Feldon¡¯s expression of alarm and concern would¡¯ve seemed legitimate to anyone who didn¡¯t notice that he slipped it on a moment too early.


    The screams turned into a cacophony as gray fluid began to seep from his eyes, swell through his gurgling mouth, and trickle out his ears. Live Memetic Crystalline. The Crystalline absorbed his eyes into its matrix, converting them into shimmering, icy bumps. His mouth froze in a curled, blank expression of terror. Some excess from his ears fell on the operating table, quickly converting it as well.


    Everyone around the table had retreated to the edges of the suite, pressing themselves against the walls. They crawled over fallen surgical equipment, some wailing and weeping. Several bodyguards drew their weapons, trained them on Feldon, and yelled something I couldn¡¯t understand. Feldon raised his hands and kept them there. I watched him turn from the guards to look at me. He gave a faint, serene smile and started to close his eyes.


    Beside me, I heard Mari growl, ¡°No¡­¡±


    I wasn¡¯t quite sure what happened at first, but my ears popped at least once with the force of a violent gale. I caught a blur as I realized later Mari had seized her chair and hurled it at the window in front of us. The entire pane crumpled with lighting-streaked patterns of frost. Just as I managed to figure out what she¡¯d done, she threw herself against the cracked glass and pushed through. Lily made my ear pop on the other side. She was a blur chasing after her.


    The glass sliced through Mari, leaving bloodless fissures all over. But she didn¡¯t stop. She ran, blowing aside stray surgical equipment and whipping at the clothes of everyone she passed. It all happened too fast to realize in the moment, but she tripped Feldon to the ground as the nearest bodyguard squeezed on his trigger.


    Another blast of wind followed her as she elbowed the gun out of his hands. It spat out a single bullet which lodged in the ceiling. The bodyguard''s hands twisted back unnaturally and he howled in pain. Mari though, was already on to the next.


    Guns sailed across the room. Men cracked their faces on the floor. The last bodyguard was quick on the draw, pointing his gun right at Mari¡¯s head. He didn¡¯t notice Lily on the other side of him with a brutal knee to his chin. Still, he got off one shot which severed Mari¡¯s left pointer finger and came to rest near the other bullet in the ceiling.


    It took a long moment of silence before the shock returned to screams.


    I scrambled to my feet and used my chair to wedge open the fissure in the glass so I could push through as well. While I only scratched my wrist, it wore a long string of blood. The glass crunched under my feet as I made my way to Feldon. Mari and Lily had pushed all the guns into a corner. The nurses edged away from them like they were a bed of vipers.


    The bodyguards were beginning to come to their senses but none were able to get to their feet. I crouched over Feldon. With a wave of air, Mari and Lily were right next to me. Mari ordered sharply, ¡°Go! Now!¡±


    Somehow, she was able to haul Feldon to his feet with Lily¡¯s help. I hustled after through a side door and into a darkened hallway. Before long, Feldon was able to keep pace without assistance. It wasn¡¯t until we¡¯d crossed through several corridors and into a storage room with some loose supply crates that I was able to assess everything.


    Feldon had a blood-stained gash along the side of his head. He cupped it with his hands. Lily¡¯s left foot looked sliced on the side and crumpled, not as bad as Mari¡¯s accident yesterday but still bad enough to make me wonder how she could walk.


    Mari had the worst of it though. She was cut up all along her arms and legs. Her left hand was missing just one finger but it was also bent back and looked difficult to move. She took a long, fake breath, glared at Feldon, and said, ¡°You asshole¡­¡±


    Mari balled her better hand up into a fist but didn¡¯t swing. Feldon looked over at her and sighed, muttering, ¡°I know.¡±


    I took a step closer. My voice broke even though I wanted to strong and angry as I said, ¡°What¡­the hell did you just do?¡±


    Sniffling, Feldon leaned against the nearest supply crate and answered, ¡°What I should¡¯ve done long ago.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°How?¡±


    Dipping his head, Feldon smirked as he noted, ¡°I¡¯ve always known the full¡­lethal capabilities of Memetic Crystalline, despite Kala¡¯s best efforts to keep them from me.¡±


    Mari pressed her fist into her leg and growled, ¡°You murdered him. For what?¡±


    In the crate, Feldon found some saline and gauze bandages. He handed them first to me. Begrudgingly, I took them and attended to my bleeding. Satisfied, he began to attend to his own wound as he answered, ¡°Justice too long delayed. Not just for Dalya, Aura, or ¡­May. But for all of those whose blood is on his hands.¡± As Feldon wiped, the gauze left a red hue on his palms which stayed there.


    Lily wept those special tears and said, ¡°They would never want this. Never. That was wrong. That was horrible¡­¡±


    Looking down at the crimson-toned gauze in his hands, Feldon told her, ¡°He was a cancer on the body of humankind.¡±


    Mari scoffed, ¡°Disgusting¡­May would¡¯ve been disgusted¡­¡±


    Flatly, Feldon said, ¡°May is dead. And so is the man responsible for her death. But he¡¯s not the only one who deserves it. There are so many others.¡±


    I tensed up. ¡°No. You promised! You showed all the ways you claim to be a doctor, a healer. And then you killed a man just because you could. It ends right now!¡±


    Feldon gave an ominous smile. ¡°There is a list in the system. Not all the names but those irredeemable men and women who deserve the same as him. I thought I could reform them, but it was not enough. Over two thousand people who have come here and left thinking they¡¯ll live forever¡­¡±


    I held my hands out, nearly yelling, ¡°No! It¡¯s over. You¡¯re not going to kill anyone else.¡±


    His eyes were so hard and still as he looked up at me.


    Calmly, Feldon stated, ¡°I already did it half an hour ago.¡±

 The Girl Who Chases The Wind – Chapter 26: Nothing Beside Remains

    The Girl Who Chases the Wind


    Chapter 26: Nothing Beside Remains (END)


    The only word I could attempt was a cautious, ¡°...W-what¡­?¡±


    Propping himself up, Feldon explained, ¡°I had it on an electronic dead man¡¯s switch which I reset manually for months. I let them live. Then, I found Rachel¡­and I knew I had to change the world. Make it better¡­¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking dare!¡­ Don¡¯t you dare put it on me!¡±


    He lowered his head and took a breath. ¡°No. But it is my gift to you. All the terrible people you¡¯ve had to tolerate in your articles. All the victims of their crimes¡­.Justice has been done.¡±


    I snapped. I threw myself at him, fists clenched. I used all I had. I kicked him in the gut and punched him in the face. He reeled with my blows as I wrapped my hands around his neck. I stared into those eyes, my body throbbing, and my heart thundering in my ears.


    ¡°You¡¯re a madman!¡±


    I resisted every sickening feeling that this was wrong. I tightened my grip past that invisible threshold in my mind. I could see his color changing. His arms flailed. He could¡¯ve easily pushed me off or grabbed at my neck. But he didn¡¯t.


    I pulled myself away as he coughed, and his regular color returned. ¡°And I¡¯m¡­not a killer.¡±


    Lily and Mari both came over to comfort me. Feldon pulled himself up and cleared his throat. I relaxed my hands and told him, ¡°But you¡¯re dead to me.¡± I turned away.


    Finally able to speak again, Feldon said, with a hoarse voice, ¡°You¡¯re my daughter. My little girl. You¡¯re all I have left. I¡­didn¡¯t know if I would survive, but I made plans in case. We can go. It¡¯ll be safe. It¡¯ll be a better world¡­.and we¡¯ll be together.¡±


    Mari hissed, ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere. You¡¯re a mass murderer.¡± Despite her wounds, Mari tensed up and looked like she was about to bolt at Feldon.


    With a grimace, Feldon pulled a small device from his pocket and quietly uttered, ¡°I¡¯m sorry. But soon there will be many people here with so many questions. I have to leave.¡± As soon as he pressed the button on the device, Mari and Lily¡¯s feet were both locked in place like they were cemented to the floor. Mari yelled and flailed but couldn¡¯t move.


    Putting the device back, Feldon added, ¡°As soon as I am far enough away, you¡¯ll be able to move again. I¡¯m sorry about your wounds but the nurses should be able to attend to you before things get too crazy around here. And I¡¯ll make sure you both are taken care of¡­and¡­Rachel¡­¡± I only allowed him a quick glance.


    Feldon spread out his hands. ¡°I am truly sorry it has to be this way. You must believe I had the best intentions for everything.¡±


    I refused to give him the satisfaction of a response, positive or negative. Mari cursed at him and tried to tear her feet from the floor. Feldon sighed.


    ¡°Please¡­will you follow me, Rachel?¡±


    I said only one last thing, as I turned to him, ¡°My name is Logan Harper. Rachel is dead.¡±


    Feldon staggered a moment then pressed his lips together. ¡°I see¡­I see¡­then that¡¯s it. That¡¯s it.¡± His voice broke, as he finally said, ¡°Farewell then¡­Logan. I really did mean well. I really did¡­¡±


    He receded through the door, moving slowly. It wasn¡¯t too long before Lily and Mari were able to move again. They tried to chase after him, but he was nowhere to be found and chaos was starting to spread around outside.


    That was the last time I saw Dr. Arnold Feldon.


    Epilogue


    The Girl Who Chases the Wind by Logan Harper


    April 17, 2045


    This is the hardest article I¡¯ve ever had to write.


    I¡¯ve written about the Yadizi genocides disguised as resource wars. I¡¯ve documented the persistence of bacha bazi despite international claims of reforms. I even met one of the more than two-thousand who died on September 5th of last year.


    But this is harder than any of those because I saw a doctor, with the most advanced medical technology I could imagine, become a murderer. Since that day in September, I doubt there is anyone who doesn¡¯t know the name Arnold Serhii Feldon. When most see the name they likely think of science gone wrong, man with too much power, or perhaps the three-hundred million dollar bounty for the man who has vanished without a trace.


    For me, I want to remember the man who comforted children with his boxes of miracles and lamented that he couldn¡¯t do more. I want to remember him that way, but he chose to be a man of vengeance instead of a man of medicine.


    Worse of all, the foundation and project he left behind, the world-famous Mantlemay Project Clinic, has become the most recent victim of his path of destruction. The rooms, where people of all ages with seemingly-inoperable neurological conditions could be cured even if they didn¡¯t have insurance, are dark and the halls empty as the federal government continues its investigation into Feldon¡¯s activities.


    Nothing beside remains of Feldon¡¯s kingdom in the desert. His ambitious artificial forest, a monument to the ones of his youth in Ukraine, has been choked to death by the timeless, never-ending sands.


    The treasures of his legacy have been split up between several medical corporations (some who lost prominent leaders that September day) which once did regular business with Feldon. Whether they will revive the Mantlemay Clinic in some form is unknown but highly doubtful.


    But the difficult part of this article is not to lament this terrible loss of hope to the tyranny of a man who claimed he knew best. It is to recount the final days I or anyone last saw Arnold Feldon.


    It began with a normal day, as most things do.


    I received an article offer from one of my regular patrons between tea and staring at an old-time blinking cursor on a screen¡­.


    =====


    I couldn¡¯t sit to type any longer, I had to stretch. There was still a lot left to go and even more left to cut. I¡¯d included all the stuff about Rachel and my personal life in one version but that wasn¡¯t meant for anyone but myself. The closest I ever came to outing myself.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Sure, there were junior troll sleuths on the net who hollered theories about my identity, but people were doing that since the beginning.


    ¡°Logan?¡±


    I spun around with a quick smile and asked, ¡°What is it, Lily?¡±


    Lily stood in the door frame with her hands neatly folded in front of her. Mari lingered behind her, barely showing with the bright swell of Lily¡¯s peach sundress. Mari wore her usual plaid, button-up shirt with loose-fit jeans.


    Swallowing her words for a moment, Lily glanced behind her and then back to me. ¡°We¡­well¡­we were thinking of going to the little park down the road because I heard the local bakery is giving away cake. And all sorts of other stuff too. But mostly cake! Would you like to come?¡±


    I knew the local bakery well and they knew Lily well too. I looked over my screen and how much white was still left on the page as I muttered, ¡°I still have a good bit to write¡­.but I could use a break.¡± The notes and recordings I¡¯d been allowed to keep sat next to my keyboard.


    We decided to move out of my old apartment in mid-October, partly because too many people were able to find us but mostly because it was too small. Not long after Mantlemay, a series of strange packages were sent to my apartment. They contained machines for servicing and repairing Lily and Mari, which were enormous once Mari helped me put them together.


    Those weren¡¯t the only mysterious gifts I received. Soon after, checks disguised as article payments for works I never wrote arrived, enough to cover the costs of a move and the energy needs of the machines. Tracing the checks didn¡¯t lead anywhere, even with a call to Kala, who had since been hired as an advisor by the FBI to track down Feldon.


    Making my way to the living room, I noticed the TV had been left on a news network. The Day of Death, as everyone termed it, was all everyone talked about for a solid week. Everyone freaked out about the economy as over a hundred trillion dollars in wealth went into flux. But it got worse than that.


    Regimes fell and what they fell into, especially in the case of my ¡°old friend¡±, was far worse than what there was before. Governments which had only talked about the possibilities of weaponizing Memetic Crystalline were crawling over each other to have the most advanced programs. And that wasn¡¯t all. A power vacuum in Southeast Asia led to a ten-day war full of the horrors of white phosphorus bombardment along with a few new ways to kill people both sides had dreamed up which didn¡¯t require any gray goo.


    And on it went. The Middle East this time. I switched off the TV and slipped on my shoes.


    Mari lingered around as I picked up my keys and wallet. I asked her how she was doing. She didn¡¯t answer at first. She just leaned around on her legs and said, ¡°I wish I could run like I used to.¡±


    I nodded. I had offered to find a luxury cabin in the Canadian wilderness which still had enough of a connection for my work, but Mari refused, explaining, ¡°You¡¯ve had enough taken away from you. You shouldn¡¯t have to hide away from everything and everyone you know.¡± Granted, the number of people I knew and cared about were not that many, but she wouldn¡¯t budge. Fortunately, we took enough trips up north so they could run in the forest. It wasn¡¯t the same though. Lily seemed like she could be happy anywhere with fresh cake but there was still one day when she mused, ¡°Why am I still alive¡­?¡±


    It was the kind of question Mari put out all the time but soon retracted if I was around. My only good answers were the quickest, strongest hugs I could offer.


    Edgar passed away in late January after a serious infection which only got worse. I visited the nursing home he wound up in when I could and tried to imagine a projector on the wall with him and Ada smiling at me as an impossible landscape danced behind them. I cried on the couch for what felt like a month when he died.


    Outside, the chill of winter was still in the air. It wasn¡¯t as cold as it had been but the gardens out front and the trees showed only the barest signs that the chill was receding. I went back for my jacket and made sure Lily and Mari both got their jackets too (even though I knew well they didn¡¯t need them). Mari fussed awkwardly with hers, bending to put her arms through the sleeves because she always twisted and turned her jacket inside out.


    I offered to help. She jerked her head at me and nearly scowled. But she soon relaxed and gave a calm nod.


    As I held it up, she carefully slipped through one arm after the other. Adjusting her jacket, I felt her hand reach down to clasp mine. She looked over at me with a faint smile and a nod. Swiftly, Lily stretched over and added her hand on top of ours. She grinned broadly and giggled. Mari answered with a sigh and told me, ¡°Come on. There¡¯s cake to eat¡­or something.¡± This earned a quick, sad frown from Lily and some words about ¡°properly respecting cake¡±.


    I kept pace with the others, which wasn¡¯t an easy thing. I still got winded but these walks were frequent enough that Mari didn¡¯t bother calling me a ¡°hippy shut-in¡± anymore, as she did the first month we all lived together.


    Halfway to the park, my shoelace slipped out of its knot and clicked around on the pavement. We stopped and I quickly retied it.


    I paused.


    The wind, which each day the last week had pushed on me with a heat-stealing chill, curled around behind my back. It moved firmly but gently. And it was warm, like a blanket of air rushing past me. It picked up to a breeze like a warm breath. I sniffed it.


    For an instant, like a sudden flash in my brain, I got the feeling and smell like when it begins to rain. But there wasn¡¯t a cloud in the stark blue sky. The wind dashed at my back. I whirled around.


    And it was gone.