Torbin Lyndau understood that by this very act, his life was in extreme danger. He was leaving them, knowing full well they would be following him – his alien protectors. His vehicle cutting through the air above the patchwork of fields, as pointedly sleek and stealthed from any photons, would not hide him from those he should fear most.
A persistent voice of doubt was telling Torbin he had lost her, the one person who understood – who’d got closer to understanding – than any of the others. Who else could possibly understand the madness of his existence but her?
Now a request at his comm: his b’tari protector. They didn’t want to use force to bring him back; they couldn’t override his vehicle’s systems like they did with Raiya. He was not going to answer them. If they followed, then fine, that would be useful protection.
He landed in the grounds.
The security measures were obvious: silver concave rectangles atop tall white poles, seeming to follow his movement across the visitors’ parking bay. When he reached entrance, Torbin placed his palm on the requisite panel, at which point a buzzer sounded accompanied by a red light encircling his hand.
‘Please identify yourself.’ Came a gruff-sounding voice through some hidden speaker, like some officious security guard.
‘Torbin Lyndau. I am here to see Dr Fortenski.’
‘You are not identifying as on our records. You clearly do not have an appointment.’
‘Raiya knows who I am, she will be prepared to see me.’
He waited, guessing the man would be consulting with her.
After what seemed like five minutes the man said, ‘Your name is not familiar to Dr Fortenski. Even if you have had a consultation with her, you must follow standard procedure and make an appointment like anyone else.’
‘But she’s visited me,’ Torbin asserted. ‘We’re friends.’
‘Not as far as Dr Fortenski is concerned. Now please be on your way Mr ... Lyndau.’
‘I will not be on my way until I have spoken to her.’ Torbin was aware of how petulant his voice must have seemed.
Silence again, until: ‘She is currently in consultation. You will have to wait at least fifteen minutes, and even then she may only speak to you through this comm-link.’
‘Fine, I’ll wait.’ Clearly that security guard thought he would just give up, realising this was a futile situation.
Torbin sat against the front wall of the institute. Thoughts turning over of the panicked state of his B’tari protectors – trying to devise a way to lift him out of this situation without attracting any attention. But of course, this area was the most heavily surveilled of any. It meant he was safe from those who were threatening his very life.
Eventually, after what must have been at least twenty minutes, a voice came through the comm-link. ‘She will speak with you now.’ Torbin jumped up as briskly as a child knowing his gift had arrived. Once again persistence paid off.
‘Hello. Torbin is it?’ It was her, and he felt comforted by her mild tones, even though it was as if she’d forgotten him.
‘Raiya, don’t you remember me?’
‘I can see you, but I have no memory of you.’
‘It was less than a month ago when you visited. Do I have to remind you of everything I told you.’
‘I’m sorry but I really have no memory of ever having met you.’
‘But you don’t deny the possibility that we have met before?’
‘Memory is not a permanent thing, or indeed reliable. However, to have no inkling of someone’s existence before meeting is highly likely to mean they have not met before.’
‘Okay, so you think I’m just like one of your delusional patients, so maybe you should do an ident check to see if I am any one else’s.’
‘Already done,’ she said briskly. ‘Your DNA was scanned along with facial recognition as soon as you arrived. And that’s the curious thing: you are are not registered on any database known to exist.’
‘And there’s a very good reason for that. It’s because I am not meant to exist. But then you should know that if you have read my file – my memoirs.’
‘Your memoirs?’ She sounded genuinely nonplussed.
‘They got to you, of course. It was only a matter of time, and really not much of a challenge to remove the necessary memory engrams.’ He then shook his head, an affected gesture. ‘I should have realised; it’s the obvious thing for them to have done.’
‘For who to have done?’
‘Those who want to keep the truth concealed.’
‘I don’t doubt your sincerity Mr---’
‘Please, call me Torbin. You have done so before.’
‘Right, well ... Torbin, do you have a data tab – or such – with you?’
‘Yes.’ He removed the little alloy-coated rectangle from his wrist.
‘I will send you a temporary data-com address; it will go into my personal inbox. You are welcome to send me any information you feel backs up your claim.’ Torbin’s data-tab flashed red as it received the input.
‘I wish I could send you my file with everything I’ve been through. Its provenance you accepted. Now it seems to have been destroyed I don’t know what you’ll accept.’
‘Just do your best. I really must get back to my work now.’ The comm-link broke off.
As Torbin left the grounds he noticed the figure of one of his just about human-looking protectors approach from a nearby parked vehicle. The B’tari all seemed to affect much the same appearance: the thin Scandinavian features but with a neat head of brown hair; a white suit jacket. It seemed like a slightly misjudged way of blending in to this northern latitude, as if after studying the language and culture they had overlooked the more nuanced variations of human physiognomy.
‘Torbin,’ the b’tari said. ‘You are making life very difficult for us.’
Torbin didn’t bother to reply; he’d known he had taken a ludicrous risk. He made for the vehicle without hesitation.
***