Between Two Minds: Awakening Read online

  “I need to know that you’ll see things through for this job. You can do that, right?”

  “Of course, boss! I’m good for this one. Just moving on—”

  “I told you I had plans for you. The promotion.”

  “I really appreciate it, but you’ve already done so much. I just need to be with my family in case things get…” I couldn’t finish the sentence as I was choking up at the thought of losing any of them.

  “Okay, Charlie. Just focus on the road and the job.”

  It had gone about as smoothly as I could have hoped, and it was that moment, for the first time in as long as I could remember, that I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. I had always known I was in a bad line of work, but was always able to rationalize it by saying it was for my family. Still, it constantly bothered me—a lot. After seeing the product, I couldn’t rationalize it any longer. Any argument for Sarah that I had to keep the job seemed hollow. I needed to be a husband and a father, and I couldn’t do that if I was running around putting my life in danger.

  The light of a hologram filled the backseat. The Padre skipped his usual cordial greeting and began digging in about the need to prep the product and how timing was important. To my surprise, the other voice didn’t sound timid or apologetic like it always had. Instead, the Padre got scolded, and it was more than a little jarring.

  “The buyer came through late, and they had reservations. You’ll do as your told, and you’ll be a good little delivery boy about it.”

  “Yes, sir.” The Padre’s tone completely changed as he conceded to the voice.

  If that wasn’t odd enough, the next thing the hologram said was also strange.

  “Now, are you able to follow through with the other item we discussed for this job?”

  The Padre hesitated for a moment, unusual for his netphone discussions that normally droned on and on, especially when he was mad. The momentary silence was palpable, and I was certain I could feel the Padre’s eyes fixed on me for whatever reason. But I didn’t budge, and I sure as hell didn’t look in the mirror. I would be damned if I gave him the slightest hint that I had heard anything about anything.

  “Don’t worry about that, sir. It will be handled,” the Padre assured the figure of light.

  But the more I learned about the job, the more it bothered me. First, there was a time change, and apparently, the Padre was ordered to make that happen. And then, there was something on top of the normal exchange? What could it be? The Padre seemed more frustrated than worried, but I couldn’t help having a bad feeling about the night.

  The light in back faded suddenly, and quiet resumed. Trying to fight the awkwardness, I stuck to the routine of the jobs. “What do we know about the buyers?” I asked.

  “Brazilian. More of our top-shelf stuff. The partners screwed this one up and got someone who doubts our ability to come through. Well, we’ll show them, and then they can kiss my ass.”

  “What’s their ETA?”

  “Thirty minutes after us.”

  “A scout?”

  “Not this time.”

  It really seemed like the job was thrown together in the eleventh hour. It was sloppy, and for my last job, I didn’t like it at all.

  “Got it, boss. We’re going back to the old Halas warehouse for this job? Anything change since the last time?”

  “Yes, I will be entering first through the north door instead of the south so that I can get set up and complete the transaction quicker. You’ll be parking around the block and entering through the south.”

  “Isn’t the north door on the street?”

  “It’ll be fine, Charlie. Just get us there on time.”

  “No problem, boss. We’re fifteen minutes out.”

  I took the on-ramp to the expressway and changed into the middle lane. The road was empty at that hour, but we’d need to take a different way back since we’d likely get caught in rush hour traffic. I drove for some time, and then exited onto the main street nearest our destination. After a couple of turns, I could see the warehouse in the distance.

  “Five minutes out, boss.”

  It was really more like three minutes, but I decided to take a few indirect roads so we could slowly roll up to the front of the building. It would help to ensure there wasn’t any trouble waiting for us. Meanwhile, the Padre put out his cigar, obtained the parts from his briefcase, and assembled his weapon.

  The part of the city we were in had changed a lot over the years. Once it was an extension of the industries with warehouses and machine shops aplenty. Now it was sandwiched in with overpriced apartment buildings and yuppie shops and bistros. It probably wouldn’t be long before gentrification rid the whole area of any blue-collar jobs and the buildings that housed them.

  I slowly pulled up to the front doors and left the engine running. The Padre opened his door and began to rock himself out of the vehicle. Then I had a sudden realization.

  “No prayer tonight, boss?”

  He paused for just a moment and looked over at me. “Since we were short on time, I said the prayer at home. Sorry, Charlie.”

  He seemed caught off guard by the question even though he had said a prayer on literally every other job we had ever done. It was more proof that it was an odd night. The Padre spilled out onto the street, and the car’s suspension sighed in relief once he was finally out. He walked to the trunk and swapped briefcases, then appeared near my window.

  “Drive around to Pulaski and park the car on the street.”

  The Padre turned toward the building and disappeared through the doors. I headed for Pulaski and found the first available spot. I looked around for passersby, spotting a bum about forty yards away as well as a bike rider crossing the street a block ahead. Nothing to worry about. I retrieved my 9mm from the glove compartment and decided to skip cleaning it since I was more visible than usual. I secured the gun in the back of my waistband and popped out of the car.

  Shoving the car keys into my pocket, I made my way through the alley toward the warehouse. A machine shop I had never seen before seemed oddly familiar, just looking at the garage door. As I approached the street in front of the warehouse, I was overcome with déjà vu. Sure, I had been to the warehouse a few times before, but there was something new about this feeling. The slightest hint of fear snuck into my thoughts as if I had experienced something awful there before. The strange thing was, I hadn’t. The few jobs we had done there went as smooth as could be, so I shook off the feeling and kept walking. With one eye on the warehouse, I crossed the street into the next alley leading to the south entrance of the building. As the sun peeked over the horizon, the scene was quiet and the building was innocent and calm. Rounding the corner, I instantly jumped onto the concrete stairs and grabbed the metal door handle to enter.

  It will be all over after this.

  The thought popped into my head accompanied by more relief that it was my last job. I entered the dark warehouse and closed the door behind me.

  Life as I know it will be over after this.

  Chapter 12:

  What Doesn’t the Future Hold?

  Life as I know it will be over after this.

  I mused as I exhibited the most picture-perfect posture while brushing my teeth at a standard sink. My feet were firmly planted on the floor as I brushed in and out and all around. I even rocked back and forth and side to side to fully grasp how it felt to shift my weight from leg to leg. Walking was becoming like second nature to me and the whole migration process was coming to an end, and I couldn’t help but think that it was bittersweet. The last ten years of my life had been defined by one singular goal.

  Walk.

  It had consumed my thoughts and kept me focused. It made me work hard and push myself past perceived limits of a paraplegic. It made me fight through the adversity of being disabled and isolated, to some extent. And it was b
asically over. I had achieved success in the one thing that meant the most my entire life, and as odd as it was, I was actually at a bit of a loss. I remembered reading in history class that, years ago, people used to stop working at age sixty-five. They called it “retirement.” But when those people stopped working, they lost their purpose in life, their drive to live, and they tended not to live too long after. Luckily, retirement had been illegal for a couple decades to protect people from themselves. Still, that was the only word that came to mind when I thought about how I felt in that moment: retired. I had retired from trying to walk and was moving on to simply being a walker. It reminded me of a question from the pre-migration counselors.

  “How will you handle life’s problems in your new host?”

  I scoffed at the question before because it seemed silly. “All I need is a fresh set of legs, and I could take on the world,” had been my reply.

  And for the most part, that was true. But what I couldn’t fully grasp back then was that a functional body came with having a completely different mindset. It would open up countless possibilities for me, which was a good dilemma but a dilemma nonetheless. How would I use the extra time, energy, and abilities afforded to me by being physically fit? How would I tap into my new physical potential? They were good questions, and I didn’t know exactly how to answer them.

  I spit the tooth gel into the sink and rinsed out my mouth. Approaching the urinal, I was still amazed at using the restroom while standing. My host’s endowment was quite impressive as well. Shaking off the drips, I stepped over to the shower and turned on the water as hot as my hand could take. Quickly jumping in, I got to work meticulously washing every inch of my new body down to my wiggly toes. It seemed like my torso and legs went on forever and bending to wash everything felt so satisfying.

  Pulling the curtain back, I was presented with a room barely visible through the steam. Drying myself with a large, soft towel was also a fulfilling experience. Next, I solidly planted one foot onto the bath mat followed by the other. I was figuratively and literally grounded as I went back to the sink and wiped the fogginess from the mirror. I had to keep looking at myself because everything was finally becoming real, and in spite of the questions about what lay next for me, there was still a deep contentment setting in. They sure had done a good job of biocopying my original face onto my host, and it made me feel like me. With a silly grin, I tamed my thick, messy black hair using the ADG-issued blue comb.

  I was delighted when I saw my clothing arranged on the bed. Instead of a colostomy bag, I slid on snug underwear that settled very comfortably. As deliberately as I could, I inserted my legs into my black slacks one at a time, tickled to see each foot pop out at the bottom. I slowly buttoned up my white shirt, all the while reveling again in the length of my upper torso. I slipped on my black jacket, fixed the collar, and zipped it halfway to complete my look. My paperwork had been processed, and I had been medically cleared to go home. I felt ready to take on the world. But before I did that, I needed to visit a friend who I had heard was recovering nicely and would be ready to walk soon.

  I left my recovery room for the last time and headed down the hall to another. I tapped on the door, and there she was.

  “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Helen’s sarcastic side had migrated just fine.

  “You’re not looking so bad yourself. How do you feel?”

  I sat in the chair next to her bed.

  “Like hell. But I’ll live. More importantly, look at you. Walking and stuff. Is it as good as advertised?”

  “The thin air up here makes me a little dizzy, but otherwise, it’s pretty awesome. It was really hard getting to this point, but definitely worth it. I’m excited for you to get upright and moving soon too.”

  “Ha. After the catch-22, I’ll take what I can get.”

  “Yeah, that was rough, but I know you’ll be fine. You’re pretty tough.”

  Helen and I met on the job at NeoTech Enterprises. NTE was a multinational conglomerate that claimed to specialize in everything, whatever that meant. The main office was known for employing disabled adults like Helen and me, which was the reason I’d applied in the first place. But I always thought that the large tax credit they received for hiring us made their advertising a little disingenuous. Their motto: “To stay ahead of the competition, you have to do things differently. That’s why we take pride in our differently abled workforce.” Even though I was happy to have found work, part of me was still resentful of them.

  Helen and I were in the same department, data processing, where they put most of ‘us.’ It was a mindless job, but it definitely paid better than most. We worked there for about a year before we actually met, and that was a day I would never forget. I had rolled into the elevator, and there she had been.

  “Morning. Which floor?”

  By the flatness of her voice, it had been clear that she hadn’t drunk much of the coffee she was holding.

  “Fourteen. Thanks.”

  “No problem. That’s where I’m going.” She typed the number into her auto-chair.

  “Yeah, I thought I had seen you around.” I tended to notice others in auto-chairs.

  “Sure.”

  She hadn’t seemed interested in discussion, but on that morning, I had been.

  “So, you like it here?”

  “Well, it’s a job.”

  “I know, right.” On that, we’d agreed.

  An awkward silence had set in after my last comment, but that had been partly due to me realizing I was really attracted to her. Sure, she had been easy on the eyes, but she just had an air about her. I always had a thing for confidence, possibly because I lacked it.

  As we neared our floor, I had wanted to say something witty for her to remember me by. “So, have you seen the new beverage in the café? I’m thinking about chai-ing it.”

  And while the comment had been definitely memorable, it had been quite lacking in the witty department.

  She’d squinted at me, then let me have it. “Oh, I get it. You think that because we’re both in auto-chairs, we probably have something in common and can tell each other lame jokes like we go way back.”

  As the redness of embarrassment set in, I had known I couldn’t leave it at that. “Okay. I deserve that for telling such a bad pun, but I did notice your taste in auto-chairs matches mine, so we’re not that different, you and me.”

  With a ding, the elevator door had opened.

  “Nice save. Maybe I’ll see you in the café later, and we can chai that new drink together. See ya.”

  She had gone left and I’d slowly rolled right, but from that point on, I’d felt like we had a connection. I had been able to appreciate the fact that she’d been guarded in response to my small talk. It meant that she had standards, and the fact that she’d ended it on a good note made me feel like I had a chance.

  Over the course of the next several months, we’d hung out casually off and on and even run in some of the same circles of friends from work. There had been a bit of flirting here and there, but neither of us had been able or willing to put forth the effort to ask the other person out. Though, at one point, I mentioned that I had been saving for a mind migration and found out we had even more in common.

  “Get out of here! I’ve been saving for one too! My folks started a fund for me after I finished recovering from the pool accident. No idea where they got the credits after all of my surgeries, but it was a nice chunk of change, and they gave me the account when I turned eighteen. They said I could use it for whatever. School was paid for by scholarships, so I figured walking would be the next most important thing. That’s when I began researching divorcing my body.”

  “Ugh. Don’t you hate calling it that?”

  “Eh, ‘mind migration’ sounds all formal and stuff. The way I see it is that I had a bit of bad luck with this body, so I want to separate fro
m it like a divorce. And I’m hoping for a host that would match the age and growth simulation of this body so I can look and feel like I was supposed to.”

  Helen interrupted my trip down memory lane. “Ryan? Did we lose you?”

  Shaking my head, I replied, “Sorry, just thinking about how far we’ve come.”

  A genuine smile stretched across her face. “Pretty crazy, huh? And to think, we might not be friends if you hadn’t made that bad joke in the elevator a couple years ago.”

  “At least it was good for something.”

  “I guess.”

  “Hey, Helen, I wanted to ask you something. I’m not trying to freak you out or anything, but since you’ve been conscious, have you been experiencing any weird dreams? Anything that seems real but obviously isn’t?”

  She scrunched her face a bit as she searched her migrated mind for a response to my question. “I haven’t had anything like that in the last few days. Right after the procedure, I knew this brain was mush, and there were some strange things then: colors, lights, sounds. And I guess there were a few odd dreams in there, but all of it seemed like what I had discussed with the counselors.”

  “So, nothing that seemed real or maybe unfamiliar?”

  “Unfamiliar? That’s weird. No, nothing like that. Why, what’s up?”

  It would have been nice to have a friend who could relate to my dreams, but I didn’t want to stress her out any more than the procedure already did.

  “Oh, nothing, I was just having some oddities that the doctors said were fine, but just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  Helen’s expression broke into one of concern. “You sure, Ryan? I’m surprised you aren’t running circles around me. Are those ‘oddities’ bumming you out?”

  “You know, it’s not a big deal. We can talk more about it when you get…when you walk out of this place.”

  Dr. Little entered the room. “Ah, Ryan, I didn’t know you knew Helen.”

  “Yup. We go back a couple years.”

  “Seems like forever.” Helen’s dry quips always stung just a little, but she had toughened me up over the course of our friendship.