Veil (87 page)

“I
’m sleeping.”

“No you’re not.”

“How do you know?”

“I can tell by your voice.”

“Whatever. What do you want?”

“What did he call it?”

“Call what?”

“The plan.”

“That’s why you called me this early? To ask
me what Ken called the plan?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. Fine. He called it Ken’s Clause.”

She repeated it to herself. “Yeah, that
sounds like him. Sounds about right.”

“Is that all?”

“I want to see you.”

“Well, how’s it feel to want?”

“Hunter.”

“Suren.”

“Please.”

“Can’t you have Carter drive you over here?
Oh, wait…”

“That’s cruel, Hunter. He was such a sweet
man.”

“He was a crotchety, old homophobe. You only
liked him because he called you Ms. Suren and carted your ass
around.”

“Whatever. He liked Ken. Anyway, will you
come over, please?”

“What about loyal Ol’ Yeller Roy? Have him
bring you over here. Your house stinks.”

She considered that for a moment. It was a
very brief moment.

“That’s probably not going to happen.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you
then.”

“Fine, I’ll take a cab.”

Hunter laughed hysterically. He laughed for
forty-seven seconds. He had to set down the phone so he could dry
his eyes.

“The all High and Mighty, Her Majesty, the
Great Widow Tsay is going to take a common cab? Oh, really?”

“Yes. If you’re going to force me, I
will.”

“Oh, I’m going to force you. I have to see
this bitch get out of a cab. And don’t bring that smell with
you.”

Hunter hung up before Suren could
respond.

Hunter regretted hanging up. He didn’t regret
hanging up on Suren—
hell no, is you crazy?
—he regretted
hanging up before getting an ETA out of the bitch. He had no idea
what time she planned on getting there. If she really did plan on
it, which she likely did. The bitch wasn’t one to make empty
threats. Without knowing when Suren would get there, Hunter had to
stay on the lookout for her.

He no longer had any need for security, so
the estate’s main gates were always open; he left the second set of
gates open as well, because barely anyone ever came to visit.
Besides, he was too lazy and slow to walk over to the intercom
anymore anyway. He wished he hadn’t hung up. While he truly did
want to see the bitch step out of a cab and would wait on the porch
all day to witness it, he also really wanted to know how much time
he had. Hunter wanted to know how much time he had before he was
forced to dress himself and interact with another human. If you
could call
her
that.

Ever since he encountered that little black
box with Ken’s name carved into it, Hunter consumed Peyton’s
Veillusion every-single-goddamn-day. He always shadowed his own
perspective inside the Veillusion. Always. That way, he could
experience Ken through his own eyes and ears, like it used to be.
He could experience “Hunter and Ken,” “Ken and Hunter.”

Once he got his obsessed, sweaty, gay,
alcoholic hands on the final version, Hunter started streaming the
Veillusion to himself over and over and over. The shit was pretty
much on repeat. They should have added a “loop” button to the damn
collars. Hunter streamed it so often that he considered getting a
vPort installed. The vCollar became uncomfortable and irritating.
He imagined it wasn’t long before it gave him a callous-necklace.
He didn’t give a damn; he wasn’t giving up his Ken again.

Hunter pleaded with Peyton and downright
begged her to include scenes of him and Ken touching or
kissing
,
but the stupid, tattooed pixie of
a girl refused. He explained to the cruel, miniature ragamuffin
that all he wanted was to experience Ken’s touch again. Hunter
needed to feel Ken’s flesh.

Seeing and hearing Ken—experiencing him
again—drove Hunter so crazy that it left him wanting to crawl out
of his skin. Or crawl into the vCollar. Or cram himself into that
little, black box.
Ohhh
he hated that stingy, tiny tree elf.
She was simply being lazy; that was why she wouldn’t do it.

Give me what I want! Give it to me! You
irritating little asinine Olsen twin.

In response to Hunter’s request, the stubborn
goblin girl claimed that intimate, physical touch didn’t play out
effectively in Veillusions, although no one really knew why. It
simply didn’t work at all. Even basic touching didn’t register in
the brain. It was the reason Veillusion porn wasn’t possible,
although it certainly was in Old Time Veillusions. Hell, Old Time
vPorn was a massive, thriving industry.

Shit, not just porn, either. Couples would
often Veil each other while having sex, so they could experience
what it was like to fuck themselves. Or, to experience the pleasure
they provided their partner—maybe to learn what to do differently
or better. The ways in which Veil altered the landscape of sex and
sexuality were myriad
.
Veil’s
ramifications ranged from deeply spiritual, life-changing sexual
connections to unimaginable expressions of debase carnal
depravity.

The annoying, little troll repeatedly denied
Hunter his wish. She claimed that what he was asking for was simply
impossible and no amount of arguing would change that. The issue
was akin to how Flatline Veillusion scenes didn’t affect the brain
like vFlatline memories. Or how the brain wouldn’t let Veil trick
it into accepting another reality. The nasty gnome naysayer alleged
that something about the mind simply wouldn’t believe it; Hunter’s
brain would somehow know Ken’s touch was only make-believe. Every
time that stupid smurfette opened her mouth and, one way or
another, told him “no,” Hunter wanted to punch her right in her
obnoxious hobbit pie hole.

“I’ll make myself believe it. We can at least
try. Why not? Please, Peyton. Fucking please,” he begged. That was
right, he’d make himself believe it. In the same way people did
with Old Time Veillusions, he added. Besides, because it was the
two of them—since it would be a personal Veillusion of sorts—maybe
it would work. Maybe it would be different. Maybe his mind would
believe it. He offered to pay her. He’d pay the teeny-weeny tribble
more than she could ever imagine.

“I don’t want your money,” she laughed him
off with a dismissive wave. Money wasn’t worth much those days. Not
like it was way back in
his
day, she condescended. Any money
that wasn’t funneled into the Veil Industry to deepen and expand it
was used to resolve economic inequities and keep them balanced. In
order to prevent exploitation, Amendment Three to the Right To Veil
bill greatly limited any Veiling between people of disparate
economic classes. Coupled with the equalizing, empathetic nature of
Veil, Amendment Three brought about a huge push to end poverty
worldwide. So, poverty ended. Quickly. Sure, capitalism still
existed, Peyton conceded, but at least it was no longer some
heartless, antisocial orgy of selfishness, self-importance, and
oppression. Peyton proudly showed Hunter her “Ayn Rand Be Damned!”
tattoo.

“I’m guessing this little impromptu
show-and-tell on New Veil World economics, although misguided and
misinformed, comes with a ‘but’?” Hunter scoffed.

“A ‘but’?”

“Yes, a ‘but’. Meaning, you don’t want my
money but...”

“Ah,” she smirked.

“Yes. See. So, what’s Peyton’s ‘but’?” he
pressed.

“Streaming.”

“You want streaming? For yourself?”

“Not just for me. I want streaming to be
available to Veillusionists. Storage and streaming.”

“No. Impossible.”

“It’s not impossible. We’ve been using it to
make this Veillusion. You’ve been using it every day and night to
stream Ken to yourself. It’s not impossible.”

“I mean, it’s impossible to let that happen.
It opens too many doors. Allowing storage was one thing, allowing
streaming is another altogether.”

“It doesn’t have to be though,” she pushed.
“Because I know what you’re worried about, and it wouldn’t be a
problem.”

“How do you know it wouldn’t be a
problem?”

“Only Veillusions could be stored, so only
Veillusions would be streamed. It’s not like anyone would ever
stream actual Veils. Not if real neuroelectricity couldn’t be
stored. Without storage, to stream a Veil, everyone participating
in it would have to be cabled into the vNet the entire time the
shadowing took place. It’s not like people can Veil wirelessly or
untethered, and no one is going to sit around and be tied to the
network all the damn time. So, streaming would only be used for
Veillusions. Only to stream Veillusions. Period.”

She made a good argument but there was no
way. There was no way he could justify letting that technology
touch the network, and there was no way he could talk Suren into
it.

“I … I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Ok—ok, it’s fine. But if you change your
mind, that’s my ‘but’. Streaming is my ‘but’.”

Peyton knew Hunter wouldn’t last long. She
saw all the signs; he was completely typical. The instant Hunter
touched her Veillusion and experienced Ken again, he became a
vGriever: another one of those Veilers consumed by
experiencing—over and over—the one they lost. That one person they
could never let go of and the one loss they could never get over.
Hunter became another one of those Veilers consumed by their grief,
by their bereavement. Except, Hunter had it worse: all other
vGrievers were limited to experiencing their lost ones through
vMemories. With the help of Veil, bereft vGrievers became obsessed
stalkers of memories.

Peyton got a glimpse of the phenomenon at her
grandfather’s Vequiem. By the time her grandfather passed away, it
was a common practice at funerals for attendees to Veil each other
and share memories of the deceased. Funeral directors decided there
was no better way to memorialize the dead, and most funeral homes
had Veil Intranets installed. Vequiem attendees shared their
memories as if they were sharing notes or lyrics to form a familiar
song. Good memories, bad memories, any memories.

Through Veil, memorial services transformed
into a way for families and friends to string together their broken
hearts and shattered minds, each person contributing to a chorus of
memories that coalesced into a resounding elegy. Vequiems brought
the dead back to life for that day. Although quite young at the
time, Peyton could tell the service made it easier for people to
say their goodbyes.

However, her grandmother didn’t want to say
goodbye. In fact, she didn’t want anyone to leave the funeral home
until she had a chance to Veil with them. No one could leave until
Grandma Waymon had a chance to experience as many memories of her
dead husband as possible. Not only did Grandma Waymon want to Veil
with everyone, she also wanted to interrogate each of them. She
wanted to know the names of anyone else who might possess some
memories of Peyton’s grandfather. People became desperate to avoid
her grandmother’s chillingly bony grasp, so eventually they snuck
out of the funeral home. For months, her grandmother tried to hunt
down anyone and everyone with memories of Grandpa Waymon.

Soon, Grandma Waymon had to give up her hunt.
She had no choice. People began to warn each other that she’d
become a vGriever, so everyone avoided her. She was forced to let
her husband go and eventually overcame her grief. Not everybody
could get over theirs, though. Some people remained vGrievers for
the rest of their lives; their appetite for memories was
insatiable.

Peyton knew even the most vGrieved couldn’t
have it half as bad as Hunter. Whereas their minds only experienced
new memories of the ones they lost, Hunter’s mind believed it
experienced Ken himself. The Veillusion’s grip on Hunter’s mind was
inexplicably and immeasurably more powerful than how Suren’s brain
momentarily hiccupped when she Veiled with Roy and saw Jin for the
first time.