The Reunion

“God, these sand dunes sure are a workout! I wish they’d build roads out here.”

“Yeah, but then you’d have truckloads of bros coming out here to the beach every weekend to litter the whole area with spent fireworks and Budweiser cans.”

“…and Fox Racing hats.”

“…worn backwards.”

“Well, if we hear any Kid Rock and loud whooping, we’ll know someone let them out of their gyms and sports bars.”

“I’ve got animal control on speed dial just in case.”

“Right? Interesting fact about sand dunes: they’re called ‘dead dunes’ when they have vegetation, and ‘living dunes’ when they don’t.”

“Eh?”

“It sounds backwards… but it’s because grasses and shrubs and trees and stuff have roots that hold the sand in place so it can’t drift anymore. The dunes that don’t have any plant growth are free to move with the winds, so they are considered alive.”

“I think I remember hearing that somewhere, actually.”

“Probably the same place I heard it – on that boring tour we went on during our vacation to Silver Lake.”

“Oh yeah! Remember how the guide said that the dunes where slowly moving into the lake and would eventually fill it up, and then later that day mom was scooping up sand from the beach and dumping it on the dune because she thought it would help?”

“Yeah I remember that. That was a weird time. I was like fifteen and felt way too old to be dragged along on a family vacation.”

“I don’t think you, me, or Gabe actually wanted to be there. Mom and dad never asked us what we wanted to do – they just did whatever they wanted and then got butthurt when we hated it and made fun of it.”

“Story of our childhood I suppose.”

“Hm.”

“At least we learned the difference between living dunes and dead dunes. It always struck me as philosophical somehow. I wonder what Gabe would have to say about that – I’m sure he’d have some deep spiritual insight.”

“We’ll have to ask him this afternoon.”

“He’ll probably say something like: ‘That’s actually what the ancient Sumerians believed! I’m reading a book about it right now! I even have a crystal that channels their energy!’”

“Not just a crystal – hundreds of crystals.”

“Oh my god dude, when we shared an apartment he would get packages in the mail literally every day with different rocks and crystals for his spiritual studies.”

“I know! Every time I hung out in his room he’d have a couple more organizers – all filled with rocks and just stacked all around his room!”

“He definitely went all out with that stuff. But we used to have super deep conversations about life and philosophy. He was just way out there – like, the books he would read had titles like ‘The Cosmic Self and the Illusion of Life’ or something like that!”

“Didn’t he go to some kind of school of mysticism or something?”

“I don’t think so. He was planning to but didn’t have enough money. After I moved out he struggled financially and could never afford to go.”

“That sucks. Hey what time is he supposed to arrive?”

“I think he had some kind of surgery this morning, so it will depend on when the doctors let him go.”

“What? I didn’t know he had a surgery. What kind of surgery?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Hm. I guess neither of us have talked to him in a while.”

“I reached out to him that night he lost his house in the flood, but never got a hold of him.”

“Man, that was like ten years ago. Haven’t you tried to talk to him since?”

“I tried getting in touch with him a few times, but you know how the reception is where he lives.”

“Do you think he’s mad at you or something?”

“Probably. But not as mad as he is at you.” 

“Really? You really think he’s still mad at me?” 

“Maybe. He used to tell me that he’d never forgive you for leaving the way you did. He didn’t talk about you much after that.” 

“If I could go back and do things differently I would.”

“I know. I wasn’t there for him either, to be honest. You remember how impulsive he used to be?”

“Well yeah, everything he did was impulsive.”

“He called me up one day totally out of the blue and said he was thinking of flying down to visit. Like, that following week.”

“Yeah that sounds like something he would do.”

“Yeah well I was overwhelmed with work and school at that time, plus I was broke and depressed. I told him I wasn’t going to say no, but that if he came we wouldn’t really have much time to hang out. Told him he’d basically be sitting alone in the apartment the whole time. I said that if we waited until the following summer it would work out much better schedule wise.”

“So what happened?”

“He didn’t come. In hindsight I think he was going through something heavy. I think he needed support, or maybe just a friend… I don’t know. But I couldn’t set my damn issues aside long enough to just be there for him. We never did hang out after that.”

“Well, at least you were still around. I hate that I wasn’t a part of his life. He and I used to be so close.”

“He went through a lot of hard times since either of us saw him. First he got fired from the job he had. That was already after I had left though. I guess his PTSD kept getting worse until he just couldn’t work. The last few years he had some kind of cancer too. I’ll bet that surgery today was related to it.”

“Damn, so neither of us were really able to help him. I sort of hoped you had been able to after I left.”

“No… not really. He was pretty bitter after you left, and then when I left it only made things worse. Someone told me later that he said he wished he could have come with us. I suppose it’s normal to want your older brothers to stick around when you’re young.”

“Well… I’m just looking forward to finally seeing him again!”

“Me too! It’s been so many years! We’ll have to give him a hard time for taking so long!”

“Ahem: ‘Sorry Gabe, but we got tired of waiting for you to come see us, so we picked a random homeless guy to be your stand in and named him Gabe. You’ll have to fight him to earn back your little brother title.’”

“Be careful though – he’s still homeless so he fights with broken bottles and used needles!”

“Maybe they can just have their beards fight each other.”

“Oh that beard! He definitely had the crazy beard going. Remember the funeral we went to and each of us had beards and we lined up for a photo and it was like ‘the three stages of beard’?”

“On the left we have the trimmed and stylish beard, next the long and regal beard, and finally, the beard most favored by wild mountain men.”

“So where did he say he was going to meet us anyway?”

“Um, well he isn’t actually expecting us. I kind of wanted to surprise him.”

“Ah. I haven’t been out this way before, so I wasn’t sure how we’d find him.”

“What? You’ve been here before haven’t you?”

“Nope, never.”

“But didn’t you go when Aunt Rose died?”

“Who?”

“Aunt Rose. Remember, she was the one who died in that awful car accident a few years back – the whole family was in shock.”

“Oh yeah. Nah, I didn’t go – too much drama. Besides, I never really knew her that well, so I stayed behind. I thought you went.” 

“No, I stayed home because I thought you went!” 

“Well aren’t we just a couple of rascals.”

“A veritable pair of rascallions.”

“Isn’t it pronounced ‘rapscallions’?”

“Maybe. But then wouldn’t it be ‘rapscal’ instead of ‘rascal’?

“Hmm… such as rapscally thing to say.”

“Anyway… I’m not sure how Gabe is getting here, so we’ll just have to keep our eyes open.”

“Well, I can hear the ocean waves so unless he’s coming by jet ski I think we made a wrong turn somewhere.”

“Eh, we’ll find him.”

“We should have brought a sled. Would have saved us time going down these steep dunes.”

“Yeah. Do you think he’ll be surprised to see us?”

“Oh definitely.” 

“Think he’ll be mad?” 

“Probably?”

“Hmm… well, he’ll just have to get over it. Or I’ll kick his butt!” 

“As long as he doesn’t hold it against us for making him walk over all these dunes straight out of surgery.”

“I have a feeling he’ll forgive us for that. He said he wanted to come with us after all. Honestly, I just can’t wait to see him again!”

“Same. There’s the beach up ahead.“

“Well shucks. I figured he’d be here by now to be honest, but – hey, do you hear that noise?” 

“Yeah. Kinda sounds like someone left a car door open with the keys still in the ignition.”

“It sounds like it’s coming from the beach. Wanna take a detour and see what it is?” 

“Alright, but if I hear any Kid Rock I’m calling the possum catcher.”

“Hey, I think I see it! Looks like something washed up on the beach. What the hell is that thing?” 

“It’s not a car. Looks like some kind of weird table.”

“Hmm, it does, doesn’t it… stupid beach bros.”

“Uh, I think that’s an operating table actually. That noise must be an EKG flatline.”

“Weird. You know it almost looks like… holy crap, there’s an old man laying on it!”

“Super weird. I don’t think that’s a beach bro –”

“Damn, he’s out cold and soaking wet – here, help me roll him over!

“Well what do you know…”

“This is crazy! Hey wake up! Wake up, man!”

“…wha – ?”

“Dude, I can’t believe you brought the whole operating table with you! That’s amazing!”

“Way cooler than that lame steering wheel Aunt Rose brought back with her.”

“I know, right?!”

“…but you’re –”

“It’s been a while, huh? We were wondering when you’d finally get here. Your surgeons must have put up one hell of a fight!”

“How did you –?”

“Me and Andy came to pick you up! We’ve really missed you, dude. You aren’t still mad at us, are you?”

“Oh god… oh my god… Mikey?? Andy??”

“It’s okay, Gabe. It’s all over. You can come with us now.”

Sleepwalkers and Dreamers

“Kel! Hey Kel! Over here!”

Kel scanned the lounge until she saw me waving, then ambled over at an exaggeratedly slow pace. I wondered if she was pretending not to be excited. When she arrived at the table, I could see I was right. She was hiding a grin. At least I thought she was.

“So?” I offered expectantly, trying to coax out her smile with my own. “How was your first day?”

“It was good!” she beamed. “They told me in training that experiencing identity can be a little jarring, but I barely even noticed.” Kel had always been a bit smug.

“Good for you!” I beamed back. “Did the sensation of time make you queasy or anything?”

She shook her head.

“No, they gave us some kind of injection and said that soon we wouldn’t need it, but that for now it’s best.”

I nodded. Back when I was a fresh intern there were no injections, and “motion sickness” as we called it, was used to eliminate unsuitable specters. But Kel didn’t know that, and I didn’t want to rain on her parade. Not many could handle specter work.

“It’s just a type of sedative” I told her and waved my hand dismissively. “You probably didn’t even need it.”

She smiled at me. Nothing could rain on her parade. I gave her a big grin.

“I want to know all about your first day! How was the interface?”

“Oh my god, so janky!” she laughed. “It was completely sealed… I guess maybe spherical? Anyway, none of the connections were fused, so it was pitch black. All I had were a couple of super primitive sensor modules, and that was pretty much it!”

I leaned back in my chair. New specters rarely appreciate this particular interface. When all you’ve known is the infinite, the finite can seem pretty “janky” I suppose. It certainly is a nice way of expressing deep discomfort and disorientation. I couldn’t help but tease her.

“C’mon Kel, it’s a great interface!” I winked, “I think you’d like it if you just gave it a chance.”

She gave me a weak smile. “I guess I have no choice, huh?”

She looked exhausted, and I didn’t blame her. Her interface was nothing more than a typical cognition-level-three carbon-based mobile organic. Nothing special. But when all you can see is a narrow window, you quickly forget how big you truly are. It’s not just uncomfortable, it’s painful.

“Okay so it was a bit weird but did you at least like your host?”

“Well…” she looked off into the distance. “Hang on – do you care if I get a drink?”

“You certainly earned it, specter!” I turned around in my seat and flagged down a waiter.

“Two martinis please. Gin.” I didn’t usually drink gin, but it was Kel’s favorite and I wanted her to feel like we were all part of the same family.

She squinted at me. “I thought you hated gin.”

“I don’t love it, but we’re family again. We share in each other’s joys and sorrows, and fortunately, gin is a rather mild sorrow that I don’t mind sharing in.”

She didn’t understand but forced a smile anyway. That’s okay. In time she would come to know what I meant. I pretended to scan the drink menu but was watching her in my periphery. She was squirming in her chair. Motion sickness. I noticed she was wearing her hair down too. Trying to hide the burn marks on her ears no doubt. I remember my ears took weeks to heal after I started working at the firm. Why did she feel she had to act so tough?  

“So are you going to tell me about your host or what?”

 “Oh yeah!” she perked up again.

“It was male, bipedal, 28 cycles old, adapted to a high-altitude surface biosphere, omnivorous,… and… yeah.”

I stared at her for a moment, but she wouldn’t let me meet her eyes. So it had been bad. What the hosts experience as cycles, specters experience differently. Still, strange things can happen.

“That’s it?” I laughed. “What did it do? What country was it in? Do you even know what planet it was on?” Teasing her would make her feel better – nothing else would after all.

“Duh! Of course I do!” She glared at me. “The planet was Sol 3 and the country was called…Tibet? Yeah, Tibet.”

“I see,” I said, and nodded slowly. I already knew she’d been in Tibet of course. All the new specters start out there after all. Most Tibetans run a type of meta-ware which incidentally employs a practice which attempts to connect with the specter. The firm prefers using these hosts for newbies because the connective state can calm motion sickness. Once interns get the hang of the Tibetans, they will start moving them to other types of hosts.

“So what did your host… do?” I asked carefully.

She looked away. “Nothing much.”

Damn. It was worse than I thought. When a host’s lifetime of stored memory suddenly floods your awareness, you can’t help but get lost in it. It envelops you. It becomes you, and you forget you’re a specter. The connection can’t last forever though. It takes its toll on the host, who must disconnect from the specter every so often. The suffering is intense, and the experiences can seem real, even to a seasoned specter.

“Kel?” I tried to meet her gaze. It was time to drop the act.

“Kel, what happened?”

She shrugged. “Nothing much. We – I mean, it got up, went outside to visit the shrine, and meditated. Then it went to the river and – oh our drinks are here!”

While Kel eagerly sipped her martini, I wondered if I should contact the firm. It was that little slip she’d made, saying “we” instead of “it”. That’s not supposed to happen. A specter should know better. Kel should know better. There was a heaviness to her that was out of place. To carry negative emotions away from a session, no matter what happened during the session, is almost unheard of.

“Kel?”

She looked startled. “What?”

“Kel, you know that hosts aren’t alive, don’t you?”

She stared at me for a moment.

“Of course I know that. They’re just shells. So what?”

Something had definitely happened. Something with her host. The hosts have been around as long as we have. You might say we each suffer from a sort of interdependency in which each engenders the other, simply by way of being. And yet, we are still opposites, separated by an infinite chasm – bridged by our infinity, as the firm likes to tout. Still, there’s never any guarantee that things will go smoothly for a specter. The connection to hosts is crude at best. The clamps, the plugs, the melding process… it’s painful for the host, and very disorienting for the specter too. I’d hoped that Kel hadn’t been hurt in the process. But it looked like she had.   

“Kel, what happened?”

“Nothing happened!” She burst out. “I did the session and pulled out my plugs when it was over, the end!”

“You… what did you say?” I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. “What do you mean you pulled out your plugs?”

“Just what I said! After the session ended I unplugged just like everyone else does, what’s the big deal?”

“No Kel, you don’t do anything! Ever! The technicians unplug you and you should have no memory of it whatsoever! Are you saying you unplugged yourself?”

“Yeah, I guess… why does that matter?!” she shrieked.

I could feel the color draining from my face. When specters are in session they have no control over their actual bodies and no way to unplug. The only way that Kel could possibly have unplugged herself would be if…

I stood up.

“Kel show me your back!”

“Wha – no I’m not going to show you my back! Why –“

Before she could say anything else I was behind her. She tried to push me away, but I yanked her off her chair and pulled up her jacket. Blood was streaming from her connection site and had soaked into her jeans. I could smell river water.

I spun her around to face me.

“Kel what the hell happened in there?!”

It was her turn to drop the act now. She burst into tears.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” she sobbed. “It meditated for a long time, almost all day. It didn’t even eat. And then…” She trailed off.

“And then what? Kel what happened at the river?”

She was crying. I had seen this sort of residual stress before, but never this pronounced.

“Tell me what happened at the river, Kel!”

She was breathing hard but trying to calm herself down.

“It… we walked out onto the ice… we could hear it cracking… and then we just stood there… and waited…” her eyes were slowly tearing up.

Hosts expire all the time. A specter is just as likely to experience a hosts birth as they are a hosts death. But Kel shouldn’t have feelings about it. She shouldn’t have feelings about a host at all.

“Kel, why are you so upset about this?”

“Because!” she blurted out. “Because he wanted to stop! He wanted to stop but he just couldn’t!”

Kel was weeping now but kept talking anyway.

“He fought the expiration…. but…. inside… inside he…”

“He what?” I asked confused.

“He… he… saw me.” She sniffed.

“Kel! The hosts aren’t alive! They’re just machines! They can’t see anything! What do you mean he saw you? Who saw you?”

She was wavering. It was as though there had been a breach. From here to there, or from there to here. Or perhaps both. Why Kel? Why her of all people? I struggled to keep my composure. She didn’t have very long.

“Kel, tell me who saw you? Who?”

She was shaking now.

“It wasn’t really him though… he didn’t see me… I did. I saw myself.”

Those were the last words I wanted to hear. It was as I’d feared. The host hadn’t fought against its expiration.

“You tried to save him, didn’t you? That’s how he saw you.” I couldn’t hold back my own tears.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. She was quietly sobbing.

“You know what this means, don’t you, Kel? That you won’t be able to merge again…?”

She looked at me for a long time. She was fading, but I knew she still recognized me.

“I was… I was you, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, you were.”

“But…” she looked around for a moment.

“Where’s the river… where…?”

“You’re right here, Kel. You’re on the other side.”

“But…who are you?”

I could barely even make her out now. There was nothing left to say.

“I am the void, Kel. And you were once a part of it.”

And she was gone.