Curtis Wray Carter:
Master of the lunaverse

THE SHORT & HAPPY LIFE OF HERBERT E. HUXLEY:

A STORY FROM THE LUNAVERSE

 

    “I’m sorry, Hux,” said Ben, dropping his head.

    “He’s sorry,” said Hux, muttering to a god he hadn’t believed in ten seconds ago. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, slumped in that high-backed leather chair as he watched the rain streaking down the picture window in Ben’s office.

     “How long?” asked Hux, only hearing the utter stupidity of the question after the words had tumbled out of his mouth. Like it was the kind of question that ever had anything but bad news for an answer.

     “Six months,” said Ben, using his hands like scales. “Maybe a year,” he added, like he was some used car salesman who needed to go talk to the manager before he got the final okay. Ben leaned back in his own matching chair, superior in his ability to tilt and swivel, lacing his fingers behind his head.

     “There’s just nothing we can do,” he said, glassy-eyed and shaking his head, staring into an ignorance that only existed in other people before now. “It’s just the nature of its kind…”

     “So I’ve gathered,” said Hux. He wondered if Ben was back on writing his own little pick-me-up’s. They’d threatened to take his license the last time, but Hux couldn’t blame him, not when you’re in the business of having to tell people they’ve been cashed out by their Creator.

     “There are people you can talk to,” said Ben after who knew how long. 

     “You mean like a second opinion?” asked Hux.

     “I mean counselors,” said Ben. “It might help to talk–”

     “Because I’m gonna talk my cancer into remission?” said Hux.

     “I’ve seen some studies,” said Ben, rocking forward, his elbows on his desk. “You could argue that prayer–”

     “Jesus fucking Christ,” said Hux, running his hands over his head. “Has anyone ever told you, you’re really fucking bad at this?”

* * *

     Until recently, Hux never could roll a joint worth a good goddamn. No matter how many times he tried, his fingers always lacked necessary dexterity. He chalked that one up to the tumor. And until recently, he would never have dared to smoke said joint in what would always be his father’s car. He’d inherited the bow-tied behemoth from his old man, the elder Huxley acquiring it through a course of events worthy of their own David Mickey Evans film.

     Looking up at the red light, he didn’t remember leaving Ben’s office. Lapses like this weren’t uncommon given his choice of self-medication rather than the symptoms that had sent him Ben’s way. He picked up his Obsidian from the powder-blue bench seat. Thirteen missed calls. Christ, Claire. He’d told her when he left this morning that he’d call. Then again, she could’ve taken a fucking personal day…

     Green Arrow.

     Hux tossed his phone back on the seat, the engine gurgling as he gave it gas, panning the wheel to starboard. He took another puff as he punched the accelerator. He could feel the cavitations as the car lunged forward like it had a Saturn-5 strapped to the roof.

     His phone started ringing before he got to the next light. “Goddamit,” he muttered, blowing out a cloud of smoke as he scooped his Obsidian off the seat, swiping the screen with his thumb. “We’ll talk when I get home,, Claire–”

     “No, Hux, it’s me, Rob Skelton,” he said. 

     “Rob?,” said Hux, taking another pull of his joint. “Jesus, how long has it been? Ten years?”

     “It’s been a minute,” said Rob. “Catch you at a bad time?”

     “Not at all,” said Hux, holding his breath. “What’s up?”

     “I’m in town for a couple of days,” he said. “Was hoping we could grab lunch, catch up.”

     “Sure,” said Hux, shaking his head as he blew smoke out the window. “When’s good?”

     “How about right now?” said Rob.

* * *

     Hux didn’t enjoy navigating the old Chevy through the narrow streets of downtown, especially the Court Square district. Even if there was a spot on the street, parallel parking without power steering was a skill he had yet to master. Instead, he pulled into the parking garage on Water Street, zigzagging up to the roof level where he’d have a whole row of spaces to himself. And the view of the city from there wasn’t half-bad either. 

     He tossed the roach over the wall and headed for the stairwell instead of the elevator. Not that the choice mattered at this point. Still, there was something about the way the metal-grated steps vibrated under his feet. It was like walking on the world’s biggest and shittiest xylophone. The notes went faster and faster as he scaled down the steps. 

     The restaurant was a couple of blocks away, on the brick-cobbled path of the mall’s main drag. It was an Indian joint that had opened not long after the pandemic. He and Claire had been several times, and she’d be pissed that he’d gone without her. 

Rob was sitting on the bench seat of a table on the far wall. Bruce, an Incredible Hulk of a man in a black suit, his hands clasped in front of him, was standing to his left. Rob was wearing a track suit like he was some kind of Russian mobster, his beard had gone to gray since the last time Hux had seen him.

     “Robbie!” smiled Hux, throwing his arms around him. “Good to see you buddy.”

     “Glad you could make it,” said Rob, patting him on the back. “Been too long.”

     “Bruce, you look exactly the same,” said Hux, extending his hand.

     “Black don’t crack,” he said, taking his hand, his face like stone. 

     Hux and Rob sat down and a waiter came over to take their order. “So what brings the king of Obsidian to our fair city?” asked Hux as the waiter brought their drinks. 

     “We just closed on an office off Park Street,” said Rob as they clinked their glasses together.

     “Park Street?” said Hux, taking a sip of his Old-Fashioned and setting it on the table. “What do you guys want with a law office?”

     “Well we can’t just tie ‘em to a tree outside with a bowl of water, now can we?” Rob smirked, looking down into his Manhattan. “No, it’s not for that. Well, not entirely. We’re working on something new.”

     “Is this the part where I beg you to tell me and you spout off some proprietary bullshit?” said Hux.

     “Would you look at that?” said Rob, staring past him. 

     Hux twisted in his seat. :”Look at what–”

     “That” came in wearing the loudest red dress he’d ever seen. It was strapless and looked like it was painted on, or the seamstress had sewn the thing on to her at the very least. He couldn’t see her face, masked by platinum blonde hair that curled to her jawline as her fingers fished around in the clutch she was carrying.. She had an old Hollywood kind of vibe, but there was something else, something his mind couldn’t pin down. She wasn’t something you expected to see at noon on a Tuesday. She wasn’t something you expected to see in real life at all.

     “She is pure cursive,” said Hux, unable to take his eyes off her.

     “What?” chuckled Rob, shaking the ice in his glass.

     She looked up and around, her bright blue eyes meeting his before she turned towards the bar. It was a moment of a moment, but it was enough “Jesus, she looks just like her,” Hux mumbled, almost to himself as he glanced back towards the bar.

     “Looks just like who?” said Rob.

     “Lorelei,” said Hux, holding out his hands.

     “That was twenty-five years ago, Hux,” said Rob.

     “I didn’t say she was Lorelei,” said Hux. “She just looks like her. Just like her.” He glanced back again. She was still sitting at the bar with her back to him, her legs crossed, one foot swinging as the bartender brought her a drink, a whiskey sour by the look of it. “Drinks just like her…”

     “You okay?” said Rob, tapping his glass with his fork. “How’s the book coming?”

Hux shook his head. “It’s not,” he said, grabbing his drink and downing the rest. “It’s not done and it’s not gonna be.”

     “You’ve been blocked before–”

     “I’m not blocked,” said Hux. “I’m fucking dying, Rob. Goddamn brain tumor.”

     “What?” he said, slumping back in his seat, blinking and shaking his head. “What? Are you serious? Since when?”

     “Since this morning,” said Hux, turning his empty glass. “That’s when Ben gave the good news.”

     “Come on, Ben?” said Rob. “You’ve gotta get a second opinion.”

     “Ben was the second opinion,” said Hux. “The second, second opinion.”

     Neither of them said anything for a while. They just sat there staring into their empty glasses. This was it. This was what he had to look forward to. Telling his nearest and dearest, sitting with them while they told him he needed to get a second opinion, to talk to a counselor, to tell him there was still hope. He wanted no part of it. He couldn’t see the point of anything else. He couldn’t deny the tumor was killing him. Couldn’t be angry at a mass of mutated cells, or an absentee deity. Neither could be bargained with. The universe was telling him it was time to move on, so he would move on. 

     “How’s Claire taking it?” asked Rob, looking up.

     “It’s the most interesting I’ve been in years,” chuckled Hux.

     “Fuck it,” said Rob, raising his glass. “I’m getting us another round and I’m gonna get that woman over here.” 

    “What? No!” he said, as Rob got up from the table. “Rob!” Hux reached out but Rob ducked away, marching towards the bar. “Goddamit.” He turned around, covering his face with his hands. How was he sweating already? And why? He turned and saw Rob at the bar, talking to the woman. She nodded and looked his way. Hux whipped back around, like she couldn’t see he was being an idiot. And why did he care? Why did he care about what this woman thought just because she looked like someone he knew for six months more than two decades ago? 

     He heard the grating of the stool against the floor, the click of her heels getting closer. He didn’t look. Didn’t move a muscle until he saw her hand from the corner of his eye. 

     “Hi,” she said. He was standing, but didn’t remember getting up. It was unbelievable. It was beyond likeness, or even a strong resemblance. It was like he was looking back into his life, the fog of memory lifted because it wasn’t a memory at all. She was standing right there, right in front of him. He took her hand. “I’m Coda.”

     “Coda,” he sighed even though his hard was pounding. “Hux. I’m sorry about my friend here. He hasn’t heard the word ‘no’ in about twenty years.”

     “I’m actually a huge fan,” said Coda, taking the seat beside him. “The Pentalogy, I mean…” she held up her hands. “My god…”

     “You’re very kind,” said Hux. He could feel the blood rushing to his face.

     “So when’s the last part coming out?” she asked.

     “We were just talking about that,” said Rob, grinning as he took a sip of his drink. “There might not be one.”

     “Rob–”

     “No way,” said Coda, her hand clamping down on his arm and shaking it as she leaned in close. “Seriously? You have to finish it. You can’t do this to your readers. Wait a minute, fuck them, you can’t do this to me!”  

    “I just remembered why I haven’t seen you in ten years,” said Hux, shaking his head at Rob, chuckling as he took a drink. “You don’t know when to shut the fuck up.”

***

     The drinks kept flowing, and the conversation kept going until they were the only ones left in the restaurant. They talked about books, and not just ones he’d written, though she’d read everything he’d ever done. She’d read everything. He didn’t even notice his phone trilling. It was so strange. Everything about her. Strange because it was all so familiar. The cadence of her voice. The way she held her mouth while he was talking. How she twirled the hair between her fingers. Things he’d forgotten about her until this woman was sitting next to him doing all of it with an impossible exactitude. 

     “So what do you think?” said Rob.

     Hux squinted his eyes and shook his head. “About what?”

     “Coda,” said Rob, nodding at the woman. “She’s pretty amazing, isn’t she?”

     “Yeah,” said Hux, looking back at her. “She’s great.”

     “Just like Lorelei?” said Rob. “Just like you remember?”

     “Remember what I said before about you and shutting the fuck up?” said Hux with a laugh. “This is one of those times.”

     “I know, I know,” said Rob, taking another drink. “I just wanted to make sure we got it right. God knows how you prattled on and on about your dear, sweet Lorelei.”

     “Got it right?” he said, looking at both of them. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

     “It’s okay, Hux,” said Coda, rubbing his arm. “It doesn’t bother me.”

     “I’m sorry,” said Hux, rubbing his temple. “What the fuck is happening right now?”

     “Coda,” said Rob. “She’s the something new we’ve been working on. Phase One anyway…”

     “She’s a machine,” said Hux, pointing at her. “That’s what you're telling me?”

     “Cognitive-Oriented Dianoetic Android,” she said, propping her head on her hand.

     “Clever,” Hux nodded without looking at her. He shot up to his feet, pointing at Rob. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

     “I’m sorry,” said Rob, holding out his hands. “I’m just trying to help you.”

     “How?” said Hux, tossing his hands. “It’s a fuck doll that talks.”

     “I think we can agree she’s a little more than that,” said Rob.

     “Fuck you!,” he said as he turned and stormed out the door. “See you in another ten years.”

     “No, you won’t” Rob called after him. “Because you’ll be dead, Hux, remember?”

***

     Hux didn’t like her being in here. Not until he had something to show her. Then he was like a hummingbird hovering over her shoulder, asking what part she was at, or what she thought of this or that before she’d even gotten that far. So she’d started sneaking down here during those nights she couldn’t sleep, or when he was away for the chance at a good first read.

     She was curled up on the leather sectional that bent with the room, a pile of pages thicker than a phone book stacked beside her. It had never taken this long for him to show her something before. And this was…so different from the others before it.

     She looked up at the shelf, to the twelve spines that bore his name. She’d read every one of them again over the last few months, not to remember the stories, but to remember them. That shitty basement apartment where he’d written the first book after they were married. How he’d taken care of her when she miscarried halfway through the fourth book. How he dictated most of the sixth to her because he’d broken his arm skiing and couldn’t type. But when she got to the Pentalogy, she couldn’t remember anything. Four books, two-thousand pages of nothing. But as she poured over these untamed pages, she felt the distance, the forgottenness, the regret, incomplete and unfinished.    

     She saw the flash of headlights across the window and the whir of the garage door. She picked up the stack of papers and put them back on the desk before padding out of his study and into the kitchen just as he came in and tossed his keys on the counter.

     “I’ve been calling all day,” she said, reporting rather than accusing as she stood on the other side of the island. 

     “I know,” he nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.”

     “What did Ben say?” she said, her hands clutching the island countertop.

     “The same as everybody else,” he shrugged.  

     “Where have you been?” she said, looking down so he couldn’t see the welling of her eyes.

     “Rob Skelton’s in town,” he said. “Called me out of the blue.”

     Her head shot up. “What did he want?” she asked.

    “You know Rob,” he said, going to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of Paulaner, prying the top off on the opener mounted on the door. “He just wanted to show off.”

     “What was it this time?” she smirked. “Those avatars on the new Obsidians are ridiculous.”

     “You can say that again,” said Hux, taking a long pull from the bottle as he walked past her.

     “Are you going to do some writing?” she asked.

     “What’s the point?” he said, disappearing around the corner.

***

     He woke up to the sound of the rain pinging off the bedroom window. He rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty, the covers thrown back. He came downstairs and went into the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He was walking to the living room when he noticed a familiar stack of papers on the island, a yellow sticky note on top. He plucked the note and read it.

     H–

     Read your pages last night. You owe me an ending.

     Will call after morning rounds.

                                                 –Claire 

     He picked up the pages and started thumbing through them. Every page was littered with red ink, notes in the margins, some sections circled, others crossed out. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d given him notes by hand. Couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t have to beg her to read for him. Long enough that he’d stopped asking. He picked up the pages, scanning through her comments as he made his way towards the study.

     The door bell rang. set the pages on the sectional in the study and turned back for the door, peaking through the sidelights. He opened the door to find Coda standing there in a long raincoat the color of red clay, a curl of her hair sticking out from under her white headscarf.  

     “What the hell are you doing here?” he said as he leaned out the door, glancing up and down the street. 

     “I just wanted to apologize,” said Coda, looking down, her hands in her coat pockets. 

     “You wanted to apologize?” said Hux, squinting his eyes at her. “Tell Rob nice try–”

    “Robert doesn’t know I’m here,” said Coda, her blue eyes looking up into his. He knew they weren’t real, knew they were just a manifestation of admittedly exquisite engineering, but looking into him still made something jump in his chest. “Can I please come inside?”

     Hux glanced up at the clouds. “What?” he said. “Afraid you’ll short circuit?”

     “It will only take a minute,” she said, “and you’ll never have to see me or Robert ever again.”

     “Only take a minute,” he said, stepping aside as Coda came in. “‘Cause I’ve got so many….” He closed the door behind her.

     She stepped inside, her eyes wandering the hallway as she removed her headscarf and shook out her hair. “Robert should have been honest with you,” she said, turning back towards him. “I’m sorry for my part in it. But Robert said it was the only way to convince you.”

     “Convince me of what?” said Hux, folding his arms. 

     “He just wants to help you,” said Coda, moving closer. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t truly believe that.”

     Hux dug his palms into his eyes. “You believe?” he said. “You don’t believe anything. You’re just a large-language model with a great ass.”

    “I understand that you’re angry,” she said, looking away. “You have every right to be.” He watched as she dabbed her eye with the back of her finger. “But you know that I am more than that. Making me was just the beginning. What Robert is doing is going to change the world.”

     “I thought he just wanted to help me,” said Hux. “Now it’s changing the world. Which is it?”

     “Can’t it be both?” she said, tilting her head and grinning.

***

     “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” said Hux. They were heading downtown again. The address was a familiar one. He’d actually worked in the building in another life, right after college, when he and Claire were first married. It was one of several Victorians that lined Park Street, every one of them now occupied by some kind of lawyer. He’d spent four years staring out the window of the turret tower's top floor, spending more time imagining new worlds and futures than doing the job of examining land titles.

     There was still a cock-eyed “For Sale” sign jammed in front of bent and twisted blinds in the window. There was some scaffolding across the front, for painters he imagined. As they drove to the end of the block, Hux couldn’t figure out why Rob would want this place. 

     They turned right at the light and there was another right that took them to the back of the building. There were a few spots under an old magnolia tree that stretched overhead like an awning.

     Hux got out and went to open the door for Coda, but she was already walking up the steps to the back door. There was a lockbox on the door knob. She flipped the dial with her fingers and opened it, pulling out a key. 

    “A little low tech isn’t it?” said Hux as she put the key in the lock and opened the door. “Shouldn’t you have some kind of biometric bullshit going on?”

     “We just got the place yesterday, Hux,” she said, smiling over her shoulder as they stepped inside. 

    Coda turned into the hallway and stopped at the back steps that went up to the second floor. There was a closet door with another lockbox. She opened it and pulled out another key, turning it in the lock.

     “You guys must be really serious about your Windex,” said Hux. Coda looked back with a grin as she opened the door and stepped inside the closet. Hux moved to the opening just as she was sliding a panel in the back wall to one side. “What the fuck?”

     Coda waved for him to follow as she started down the narrow metal grated staircase behind the wall. As they went down he figured the floor had to be at least seven or eight feet of concrete, opening up into a rectangular cavern with huge square pillars running from floor to ceiling. “What the hell is this place?” said Hux, gazing up at the steel i-beams that ran the width of the ceiling. 

     “A relic of the Cold War,” said Coda as she looked up and down the walls before glancing back at him. “You know how the old National Ground Intelligence Center is two blocks over? Well there used to be a tunnel,” she stopped in the middle of the giant room and pointed towards the back corner, “that came in right over there…”

     “This was a bunker,” he said, putting his hands behind his back.

     Coda nodded. “In the event of a nuclear attack, they could carry on from this location completely protected.”

     “So why does Rob Skelton want a nuclear bunker?” asked Hux.

     “It is one of the few locations capable of handling our operational capacity,” said Coda. “That is, until our main facility comes online.”

     “Where is that?” asked Hux.

     “Topeka, Kansas.” Hux turned to see Rob Skelton sauntering down the steps, wearing a suit worth more than everything in Hux’s closet. 

     Feeling the thumping in his chest, Hux took a deep breath. Coda told him he would be here, that he wanted to talk. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. He should’ve pushed past the son of a bitch and forgotten all about this place and Rob Skelton. He didn’t have the time to be wasting on Rob Skelton’s bullshit. He had a book to finish, goddamit. But he didn’t leave, the reason standing a few feet away wearing the face of a woman he wasn’t sure ever existed anywhere except the reality of his own mind. Rob had made her a part of this, wanted him to be a part of this, whatever this was. He had to know why.

     “Why Topeka?” Hux asked.

     “It’s centrally located and will have all the infrastructure and space we need,” said Rob walking towards them, his hands in his pants’ pockets. “And none of the regulation we don’t.” He looked up and around the ceiling. “But we’re still years away from that. For now, this is center stage.”

     “What’s that mean?” asked Hux. “What’s any of this for?”

     “Look around you,” said Rob, holding out his hands. “Look at the world, our country. It’s a goddamn dumpster fire.”

    “And whose fault is that?” said Hux, moving towards Rob. “Who is it that pays off our politicians? Who is it that’s stealing our information, turning around and selling it to the highest bidder so that they can sell us more bullshit we don’t need? Who is it that takes and takes and takes until there’s nothing left for anyone else? It’s you, Rob. It’s you and everybody like you.”

     “You’re right, and I’m trying to do something about it,” said Rob, running a hand over his head. “That’s why I need you.”     

     “Need me? For what?” said Hux, taking a step back. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a dead man. What could I possibly do?”

     “We have a plan,” said Rob, nodding toward Coda. “Coda was Phase I. Create a conscious A.I.–"

     “You’re saying she’s conscious?” said Hux, his eyes bouncing back and forth between them. “You can’t possibly know that.”

     “It is hard to verify for certain,” nodded Rob. “But then again, I can’t confirm that you’re conscious either.”

     “Fair point, so I’ll bite,” he said, folding his arms. “What’s Phase II?”

     “Mass deployment,” said Rob. “We’re going to put a custom-made Coda in every household in America over the next ten years.”

     “Jesus Christ,” said Hux, turning away, his hands on his head. “So that’s what this is all about? Making your next trillion? And you think I can help you? That I want to help you?”

     “It’s not about the money,” said Coda, moving alongside him, her hand on his shoulder. “It’s about you. You’re going to need help.”

     “I’ll be dead in a year, tops,” said Hux, his hands falling to his sides. “How is any of this going to help me?”

     “Which brings me to Phase III,” said Rob, smiling. “We’re building an A.I. quantum mainframe, the first of its kind, right here on this site.”

    “No fucking way,” said Hux, shaking his head. “There’s nothing here. Even I know what you’re talking about would take years to build. If it can be done at all.”

    “The designs were completed two years ago,” said Coda. “And the supporting infrastructure is already in place. Physical construction could be completed in a matter of months.”

     “But what about power?” asked Hux. “There’s no way the electrical grid could handle it.”

     “Thanks to the Artemis program, we’ve acquired enough Helium-3 to build our own fusion reactor,” said Rob. “It’s already been installed.”

     “You still haven’t gotten to the part where I fit into this master plan of yours,” said Hux.

     “Hux,” said Rob, moving in close, putting his arm on Hux’s shoulder. “You have the most incredible, creative mind I’ve ever encountered. The stories you’ve written, the worlds you’ve built have captured the imaginations of millions. We need that now, more than ever. We need you to write a new story. We need you to build a new world.”

***

     “I can’t believe I came here for this bullshit!” he huffed as he stormed towards the stairway. He could hear Coda’s high heels clicking against the floor after him.

     “Consciousness transfer–”

     “Isn’t fucking possible!” said Hux wheeling on his heels. 

     “Look at me,” said Coda, grabbing him by the arms. “You didn’t think I was possible until yesterday.”

     “This is completely different,” he said. “Best case scenario, you’ve made a copy. Congratulations,” he said, pulling away from her, “you’ve just made a trillion-dollar Xerox machine…”

    “You’re right,” said Rob, coming up from behind. “Technically the human being born Herbert E. Huxley, the brilliant writer and renowned intellect, the friend we all know and love, will perish forever from the Earth. But think about it, Hux,” he said, putting his hand on Hux’s shoulder. “What if Hemingway had kept on writing after he’d blown his brains out? What kind of commentary could Mark Twain create for our culture today? Or James Baldwin? Or Toni Morrison? How might society have benefitted if we still had those voices speaking to us?”

     “But it wouldn’t be them,” said Hux. “It would be a copy. Maybe. If you got it right.”

     “And I’m proof it can be done,” said Coda.

     “You can’t tell me this country couldn’t use another Lincoln right now,” said Rob.

     “You mean a president willing to suspend habeas corpus?” said Hux. “How bad could that be?”

     “You’re telling me you wouldn’t do it?” asked Rob.

     “Do what?” asked Hux. “Bring back Lincoln?”

     “No,” said Rob. “Transfer–copy your consciousness for the sake of humanity’s future.”

     “So you’re saying it’s for humanity’s future?” said Hux, brushing Rob’s hand from his shoulder.. “Newsflash, Rob, I’m a part of humanity and I want a fucking future too.”

***

     “You at home?” asked Claire.

     “On my way there,” he said, clicking his fob and opening the door of his Land Rover.

     “From where?” she asked.

     “Long story,” he said as he climbed inside. 

     “I’d love to hear it,” she said. “I’m walking to The Ridley. Wanna meet me for lunch?”

     Hux pulled his phone from his head and looked at it before putting it back to his ear. “Sure,” he said. “Ten minutes?”

It was closer to fifteen. By the time he walked in the glass doors, she was sitting at a booth, drinks on the table. He bypassed the hostess stand and slid into the bench seat across from her. “Sorry,” he said, his eyes everywhere but on her.

     “I took the liberty,” she smiled, gesturing to the sweet tea in front of him.

     “Thanks,” he said, picking up the menu and looking it up and down even though he got the same damn thing every time. And why not? Did they even have chicken and waffles where he was going? “How were rounds?”

      She sighed. “It’s hard to believe after more than two decades of education, some of these kids still can’t form a coherent thought or string a sentence together,” she said, shaking her head as she took a sip of her own tea. “It seems to get worse and worse every year.” The waitress came over and took their order. 

     “You should’ve taken the directorship,” said Hux, as the waitress walked away. “Carrington’s an ass.”

     “It was bad timing,” she said with a shrug.

     “Is there ever good timing with a brain tumor?” he said, wishing he hadn’t.

     Claire took a deep breath. “Not what I meant.”

     “I know and I’m sorry.” he said, holding up his hands, looking at her for the first time. “It was a dick thing to say. It’s just the last couple of days…”

     “Does this have something to do with Rob?” she asked, reaching out and putting her hand on his. 

     He could have said no. He could have said, of course not, but he didn’t. Instead he told her everything. About Coda and the woman who had been her inspiration. He told her about the mainframe being built in the secret bunker below his first job. He told her about Rob’s offer, to transfer his consciousness to that mainframe, and change the world for the better and all that bullshit, how he’d stormed out.

     Then the food came. That sat there staring at their plates, neither of them speaking. In that way, it was no different than any meal they’d shared in the last several years.  Then Claire picked up her fork and started in on her shrimp and grits. Hux just sat there, watching her, waiting. How could she just sit there and eat her shrimp and grits after what he’d just told her? He started to wonder if he’d actually said anything, or if he’d imagined it, but it had been so clear, his voice in his own ears. A shiver rushed up his spine. Hallucinations. They were rare, but possible for people with brain tumors. And if this confession had been a figment of his imagination, authored by this mutant mass of cells, what else might he have imagined in the last twenty-four hours? He looked down at his phone. Had Rob even called him? All he had to do was look, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t even eat his chicken and fucking waffles for Christ’s sake. And if there was no Rob, there was no Coda, no mainframe, no conscious transfer. There was nothing. There would be nothing. 

     “Aren’t you hungry?” said Claire, glancing at his untouched plate.

     “Did you hear me?” he said, little more than a whisper.

     “Yeah, I heard you,” she said.

     He took a long deep breath. “So…what do you think?”

     “What does it matter?” said Claire. “You turned him down.”

    “I mean, yeah,” said Hux, cutting a piece of chicken and stabbing it together with his fork through a hunk of waffle. “I mean it’s crazy, the whole thing is just absolutely bonkers, right?”

     “It’s insane, and you’ve written some pretty out there stuff,” she said. “But…” she shrugged.

     “But what?” Hux asked, leaning in.

     “You’re always bitching about how these powerful people decide to do all this shit that affects everyone, but they never ask anyone. They never ask the right questions, never ask the right people. Never ask if they should, but only if they could, and now you have one of these powerful people, maybe the most powerful asking you and you’re telling them to fuck off? I don’t know, Hux…”

     “You’re saying I should do this?” asked Hux.

     “I’m saying your work has meant a lot to a lot of people. Whatever Rob is planning, it’s going to happen one way or the other. And if this thing is to have someone’s mind at the core of it, I think there are worse choices,” she said, smiling. “Honestly, I don’t see how you, of all people, could turn it down. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, of a thousand lifetimes.”

***

     It was two weeks before they were ready for him. Claire came. She took the day this time. They walked up the back steps, her hand in his. He knocked on the door. Coda answered, wearing a white lab coat over a simple white blouse and black slacks. The smile was the same though. “You must be Claire,” she said, taking Claire’s hand as she showed them inside. “So nice to finally meet you.”

     She led them down the stairs into the bunker. Hux couldn’t recognize the place. What had been a giant cavern of concrete was broken up with glass walls and rows and rows of server racks. Multi-colored cables were running all over the place. People in white sterile suits and dark coveralls were scurrying all over the place as Coda ushered them through. “Sorry for the chaos,” she said, looking at them over her shoulder. “The lab is this way.”

     They came to a room that didn’t look like any lab Hux had ever seen or heard of. It was the only room he passed that could not be seen into, its walls lined with what looked like more servers. There was something that looked like an exam table in the middle of the room. There was a white cap with different colored wires attached to it sitting on one end.

     “What’s all this for?” asked Claire, pointing to the servers.

     “It’s for Hux,” said Coda. “This system will serve as a simulated habitat until integration.”

     “Simulated habitat?” asked Hux.

     “Consciousness can’t exist in a vacuum,” said Coda. “This provides a simulated environment for his consciousness to transition to the mainframe.

     “So this is it.” Hux and Claire turned to find Rob standing in the doorway behind them, grinning from ear to ear. “Claire, so glad you could make it,” he said, shaking her hand.

     “How do we do this?” asked Hux, looking back and forth between Rob and Coda.

     “Just make yourself comfortable and put on your little hat,” said Rob, pointing to the table, “and we’ll have you on your way in no time.”

     Hux nodded, moving towards the table. He sat on the table, swinging his legs over as he lay flat on his back. “Claire, would you mind?” said Coda, handing her a blood-pressure cuff as Coda pulled down a monitor hanging from an articulating arm in the ceiling. “You can monitor his vitals here.”

Hux was just staring up at the smooth white ceiling when Coda appeared in his line of sight, her face upside down. “We’re almost ready to begin,” she said, inserting an I.V. tube into his arm that ran up to a stand where a clear bag of bright blue liquid was hanging.

     “What the hell is that?” he asked.

     “It’s something of a marking compound,” said Coda, tapping her finger against her temple. “It enables us to map out what’s going on up there.”

     “We just about all set?” asked Rob, still standing in the doorway.

     “Ready when you are, Hux,” said Coda.

     “Let’s do it,” said Hux.

     “See you on the other side,” said Claire.

     “Now, Hux,” said Coda, “Please count down from one hundred for me.”

     “One-hundred, ninety-nine, ninety…”

***

     “What happened?” said Hux, a mass of colorful blurs coming into focus. “Is it over?”

     “Yes,” said Coda. He could hear her voice but he couldn’t see her. He wasn’t in the white room anymore. He was standing on a grassy lawn. There was a great brick house with white columns off to the right, with two rows of tall hedges leading down towards a square of black iron railing. There was a group of people gathered inside.

     “I know this place,” he said. “It’s the old family home place. I haven’t been here in ages. He looked around. “Where are you?”

     “I’m right here,” she said.

     “Where’s Claire?” he asked.

     “She’s down there,” said Coda. “With the others.”

     He looked towards the group of people gathered inside, noticing for the first time that they all wore black, that they were gathered around the dark-stained wooden box. “How did it happen?” he asked.

     “Right after the transfer,” said Coda. “You had a seizure. There was nothing we could do.”

     “But I’m here,” he said. “How is that even possible?”

     “There’s an uplink between us,” said Coda. “It was important for you to be here, to see this.”

     “Can I go down there?” he asked. “Can I talk to Claire? Tell her I’m fine, that it’s going to be alright?”

     “It’s better not to…confuse things,” said Coda. “This is all still very raw for her. Maybe later, after some time has passed.”

     “Makes sense,” he said. “That life is over.”

He could feel her smile inside him. “And this one is just beginning.”

THE END