Second Self

Chapter 8

"A man may love a paradox without either losing his wit or his honesty."

Ralph Waldo Emerson, Uncollected Prose, 1841

Our vehicle veered into an underground parking garage and came to a stop in a stall under one of the Eiffel Tower shaped buildings. A quick examination of the cars lined against the wall made me think they were advanced technologically, but I wouldn't be surprised to find out we had superior cars on Earth.

An electric buzz emitted from the translucent shells around the motorbikes as our escorts passed through. They lead the way to an elevator, where Gem pressed the button for the top floor. The door closed behind us, and we began to move upward. Each level had fewer lights placed on the wall to mark the units, creating a shape like a Christmas tree on the wall. We exited the elevator into a hallway with only two doors. A member of our escort stepped through one of the doors without knocking, making me suspect it must be a utility room. Gem went to the other door and punched in an access code on a panel next to it. He stood to the side to let our escorts pass through. They returned a few minutes later, carrying a couch. They placed this against the wall, facing the elevator door.

"You aren't planning on making them stay out here?" I said to Gem.

"We don't mind. Honestly, we've taken watches in worse places," one of them answered.

"We'll knock in the morning when our relief arrives with a change of clothes for Rory," another said. He had a bit of an awe-shucks expression that might have made it difficult to deny him anything he wanted. It was probably a good thing that all he wanted was for me to let him do his job.

"I'll bring you something to eat before I go to bed. You have food?" I said to Gem.

"Lots. Just two of you?" Gem asked the guards.

"That's right. You can head on in," the first one said. Gem stepped through the door without thanking them. It appeared that for all his watching, Canadian courtesy hadn't rubbed off on him.

Starting at the front door and joining at a triangular tip, two sides of the room were covered with windows that extended from floor to ceiling. The kitchen cupboards began at the entrance to the hallway, where the triangle theme carried through. Across from the pantry that was tucked in the corner was an island that looked as if someone had cut off the top of a triangle, oriented the fuller bottom portion toward the kitchen, and pointed the narrow side toward a living-room nestled between two glass walls. I followed the glass around the periphery of the room until I came to tip, where I stopped to look out over the city.

The tallest buildings were spread in an arc around the harbour, as I'd predicted when driving through the streets. City lights stretched out in every direction, except for along the hillsides on one side of the harbour. In this direction, there were only a couple of points of light in the darkness.

"Sit down. I'll brew tea," Gem said, heading to the kitchen.

"I'd rather stand," I answered, but followed him to the outer edge of the island. I stood next to one of the stools, watching Gem pour hot water into two mugs. He dropped a circular, metallic tea infuser into each of the cups before he stepped back to lean against one of the counters.

"You must be exhausted," he said.

"You too," I said, noticing the dark bags under his eyes.

"You're safe now. That's all that matters." He stepped forward and slid one of the cups toward me. As I blew on the surface of the liquid, I thought about all the moments over the last week when I'd wondered if Denovo's plan included my death. I'd been terrified of the possibility of dying, but the thought of having to watch Casper go first was worse. It made a vivid imaginary video play in my mind of my mother accusing me of not understanding mortality, calling it a defect shared by youth.