Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [61]
“Like Ithtorian and Mareq,” he guesses.
There’s a reason he gets the big bucks.
“Precisely.”
“Speak to the receptionist. For obvious reasons, I can’t take walk-ins for nonvital procedures, not even if you came by way of Saul. Tell her you’re a priority one patient, though, so she doesn’t make you wait months.”
“Understood.”
Out in the foyer, I convey the message and receive an appointment for next week. Then the Pretty Robotics model summons a vehicle for me, and I step onto the platform to wait. There is no view like this anywhere in Gehenna, so close to the dome, with the world spread out below like a miniscule model. And somewhere in this blood orange glow, Vel is alone and grieving.
CHAPTER 18
Since I don’t know where to find Vel, I return to Adele’s and walk up the flights to her flat. Her door recognizes me, after all this time, and I’m touched anew by her kindness. I remember how I used to come down from the garret to use her san-shower, and we’d eat breakfast together. That was a long time ago, before everything changed, even before Farwan’s fall.
I come into the sitting room where we left her . . . and find her quiet in her chair. Her eyes are closed. I tell myself that she’s sleeping; any second she will open them and greet me and offer me some tea. But even after I reach her side and touch her arm, she remains motionless. Her skin is warm, but not the heat of a living person anymore, more that energy that lingers long into the night on a sun-warmed walkway. Once the stored warmth drains away, there will be no more. I touch my fingertips to her wrist, then her throat, just to be sure. There’s no doubt.
Adele is gone.
This is not the first time I’ve been confronted with death. NBS leaves a very quiet corpse, who happens to be capable of breathing. If that jumper has any true loved ones, then they do a merciful injection and handle the details. Though Adele only needs the latter, not the former, that’s the least I can do for her, this woman who was like a mother to me while I lived on Gehenna.
I drop to my knees, but no tears come. This feels more like a pilgrimage than true grief. If anyone can find immortality, it is Adele. Perhaps she has gone, now, to Mary’s arms or into the great Iglogth. There are mysteries whose answers we can never know, until our time comes to tread that road behind those we loved. An ache springs up in my throat, but I push it back.
“You would’ve left instructions,” I say aloud, through the clot of sadness.
It’s impossible that she, with her whispers of foretelling, didn’t see this coming. So I search her apartment and find a new message on the console. I sit down, elbows on my knees, and listen to her last wishes.
“Jax,” she says—and of course she knew it would be me, somehow, “you will play a daughter’s role at the end. I saw that when I first found you at Hidden Rue. Please notify Domina, as she was good to me. The dancers will want to come, too. I prefer a simple service and molecular dispersion afterward. It’s enough to know you will remember me. As for Vel, he’s going to take my death hard, and he’ll need you in days to come. Farewell, dear Sirantha.”
The vid ends then. I don’t realize I’m crying until the first warm tear splashes onto the back of my hand. Wiping my eyes, I activate the comm and enter the code for funeral services. A bot answers, the same one they use as receptionists and admin all over the galaxy, plain and efficient. Dr. Carvati has a similar model.
“Gehenna Mortality Center, how many I direct your call?”
I explain who Adele is and what she wanted, then the bot connects me to the correct party. Fortunately, she forwards my information, so I don’t have to repeat the explanation. A human answers this time, middle-aged, but well preserved thanks to targeted Rejuvenex treatments. He wears a patient, understanding look that grates on me straightaway, or maybe it’s his waxed eyebrows.
“I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. I’ll send a technician to assist you right