Jake stared at the time display on his monitor in the dispatch station and willed the minutes to go by faster. It was an unusually slow day at work and he had another half an hour left in his shift. Jake impatiently waited for George to arrive. He had to hand off the ongoing radio traffic to him before he could leave. He hoped that for once George wouldn't be late. He usually only arrived five minutes before the end of Jake's shift which commonly meant that Jake had to work longer than his shift required. But not today. Today he needed to get out as quickly as possible to make it back to his place before Si arrived. He had impressed the urgency on George and threatened to break his nose if George made him late. It seemed to have worked. George walked into the room at a quarter to six. Jake handed over and left the station. He checked his phone. It displayed another message from Si saying that he was on the ground and heading towards the cabs. Shit. Even in rush hour traffic that meant that Jake had only about forty minutes at best before Si got to his door. It would take him ten minutes to get home, not because of the distance, but because of all the people choking the sidewalks.
Eventually, with his frustration almost at a boiling point, Jake reached his place. People's ignorance offended him, how everyone seemed to be lost in their own misery, not paying attention to the world around them. Sometimes he could almost see Tom's point, but maybe this world was too far gone, beyond the point of return where an individual could make a difference. But wasn't that his duty as a Marine? Wasn't it his duty to make a difference? How do you stand up for something if you can't stand up?
Jake chased the thoughts away. He would chat to Si about that later, now he had more urgent matters to deal with. He put on the brace and got out of his wheelchair. His balance had gotten much better over the last couple of weeks but nonetheless he had to be careful not to fall over. In the close confines of his box that could easily mean nasty bruises or worse if he banged against the table or cot or walls. Jake pulled himself into the bathroom on his crutches. When he reemerged he checked his phone again. Another message from Si. Cab driver says another 15 minutes or so. Sent five minutes earlier. So probably about ten minutes till Si would arrive. Jake had traded all his shifts for the next three days so that he and Si could do whatever they felt like. He made some coffee then he took up position next to the door, leaning against the wall. He hadn't told Si about the brace and he was looking forward to seeing the look on his friend's face when he found Jake standing behind the door instead of sitting down in his wheelchair.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Si banged on his door. "Open up Jake, the Navy is here," came his muffled voice through the door.
Jake moved himself into position behind the door then he threw the crutches onto the cot and just held on to the solid handle on the wall next to the door. He pressed the button and the door slid sideways. The look on Si's face was priceless.
"Hey, welcome to my letterbox." Jake was laughing.
"Jake, oh my god." Si dropped his bag and took a step forward to hug Jake.
Jake returned the hug but made sure he maintained a firm grip. "Hey careful, don't throw me over. I've got no balance."
"No worries, mate." He let go of Jake and looked around the tiny apartment. "Wow, letterbox is an over overstatement." He grinned and looked Jake approvingly up and down. "And now?"
"Now I need you to give me my crutches back so that I can move."
When Jake had maneuvered himself back onto the cot he stripped off the brace and pushed it underneath. Si grabbed his bag and slid it under the cot too at the far end then he grabbed Jake's wheelchair, unfolded it and sat down in it opposite from Jake.
"What's with the long hair Jake?" Si leaned forward to try to ruffle Jake hair, but Jake caught his hand and spun the surprised Si sideways. Jake grinned. "Be careful with equipment you don't know how to use. You could seriously hurt yourself and then who's gonna carry me around in the future, huh?
Si laughed. "Point taken, trade?"
"No, I'm comfortable here, but why don't you get us some coffee?"
"Sure" Instead of getting up Si rolled towards the open kitchenette hatch. Jake folded down the table over the cot and Si brought the coffee pot over. "Where are the mugs?"
"Above the microwave—one of the reasons I got the brace."
"I see. Do you ever go out with it?"
"The brace? No, never, way too cumbersome. Even with the crutches my balance is tenuous at best and I can't stand up using the crutches, only with the ladder." Jake pointed at the ladder at the other end of the cot.
Si nodded, got out of the wheelchair and got two mugs from the cupboard. Then he sat down on the cot across the table from Jake.
"So what's the plan for this weekend?"
Jake poured coffee for Si and then for himself. He grabbed his mug.
"Tomorrow I was thinking we'll go out early to Princeton and fetch the truck and drive out towards Cape Cod. Saturday and Sunday we spend around town. What do you think?" Jake sipped his coffee.
"Sounds like a plan."
They chatted about the flight and the traffic and the miserable weather in New York. Then Si said. "I'm actually quite hungry right now. Shall we go grab a bite to eat somewhere?
"Sure, there's Saul's, a burger place around the corner. It's a bit rough, but the food is decent."
"I don't mind rough."
"Okay. Let's go."
They had burgers and beers and on the way back to Jake's place they picked up a six-pack for the rest of the evening. They settled in. Jake propped himself up on his cot on some pillows and Si had unrolled the self-inflating mat and sleeping bag he had brought and made himself comfortable on the floor. Jake grabbed a blister pack of pills off the shelf on the wall above his head, but it was empty. "Shit," he muttered.
"What?" Si asked, busy slipping into his sleeping bag.
"Have you ever heard the saying what you don't have in your head you have to have in your legs?"
"Yeah. My grandmother used to say that to me when I was a kid."
"Same here, but it's a problem if you don't have legs." He held the empty blister pack up. "Would you mind?"
"Of course not. Where is it?"
"Just get the black bag from under the sink in the bathroom. It's all in there."
Si extracted himself from the sleeping bag again to fetch the bag. He handed it to Jake. "What are you taking?"
"Just a mild painkiller and anti-inflammatory."
"Is your back always sore?"
"No not always, mostly in the evenings, but some days I wake up in the morning and I can't get up because it hurts so much. It's much less often now than it used to be. Maybe once or twice a month. That's when I take one of these." He held up an injector vial.
"What's that?"
"Meperidine. It's similar to morphine." He put the vial back into the bag and put it onto the floor next to the three cans of beer that were lined up there, waiting to be opened. He took the first one and popped the tab.
Si crawled back into his sleeping bag and propped his head up against his pack. He also opened a beer and took couple of swigs. "Jake did you ever wish that you hadn't made it out of Venezuela alive?"
"Not initially, no, but I did after Emily died. I suppose JJ didn't tell you, but I tried to kill myself that day."
"But he found you?"
"Yes, with a few minutes to spare. Franklin had a hunch and he got JJ to look for me."
Recognition dawned on Si's face. "Now I understand what you meant on New Year's when you said you almost didn't make it."
Jake nodded. "Do you believe in fate, Si?"
"I can't say I do."
"It's a concept I struggle with as well, but sometimes I can't help but wonder."
"What do you mean?"
"When I was seventeen, I almost had my left arm amputated after I shattered my elbow. Right here." Jake put the edge of his hand high up on his left arm. "It took a long time to come right, but after about two years my arm was a hundred percent again."
Si was looking at Jake, sipping his beer.
"Then just about ten years later I fall out of the sky and shatter my back. Except this time there will never be a full recovery."
"But what if you do get the treatment after all?"
"This has been one of the hardest things for me to accept, that even with the treatment, the best I can realistically hope for is to walk with crutches and this may sound strange to you, but at this point in time with regards to mobility I prefer the wheelchair over crutches."
"I still don't get what this has to do with fate?"
"I almost died from my injuries in Venezuela. For the first three days after I arrived at Walter Reed they didn't expect me to live. Then last year, I OD'ed on morphine and JJ found me with minutes to spare. And if you look at it, it was an extremely unlikely chain of events that made JJ find me and get me to the hospital in time; even less likely than winning the jackpot in a lottery to pay for the spinal treatment. So I have had two disabling injuries and I nearly died twice as well and yet I am still here—and I wonder why? Is there a purpose to all of this? Where does it lead? Are we really in control of our destiny or is it just one big illusion?"
"You are making my head hurt Jake and I think for me the illusion is good enough right now."
Jake smiled knowingly. "How are the other two reprobates?"
"Alan spends all his time at the shooting range, he wants to beat your record acquisition times and Jeff is chasing after some woman called Grace, but I haven't met her yet."
"So up to no good, as usual."
"How are things with Tom?"
"Complicated as ever. I usually go to Princeton on the weekends, unless I have to work and the one thing that has definitely improved is that he doesn't project as much guilt anymore about me being in the wheelchair. But with regards to our goals in life we just can't seem to find common ground. Now that I'm no longer in the Marine Corps he has moved his attention to the fact that I've started studying weapon's design—and I am planning on resuming that when I come back to the West Coast. So now his gripe is about me building things that will kill people, instead of doing the killing myself."
"So when will you be moving back?" Si had emptied his beer and was squashing the can in his hands. He put it on the floor and picked up another one.
"At the end of August, after Tom leaves. I may not come back to San Diego though. I haven't decided yet. Maybe I'll go to LA or maybe even to back to Denver."
"Why not SD?"
"Because I have to live my own life again. What if you or JJ get a new commission somewhere else? Am I supposed to pick up and move every time you get sent somewhere else as well?" Jake drained the rest of his beer and squashed his can, too.
"Aaaw, but I will miss you…"
Jake threw his crushed beer can at Si and hit him squarely between the eyes. He laughed. "Jeez and I trusted you to have my six? No wonder I ended up where I did."
Si laughed, too and wiped the spray of beer off his face that had escaped the can on impact. "You better be careful what you say now or I might just have to beat up a cripple."
Jake beckoned Si with both hands. "Bring it on."
Si launched himself at Jake. Jake pulled one of the pillows out from behind his head and swung it sideways at Si. Si landed on top of him but scrambled back and grabbed the pillow from Jake's hand. Jake held on so that Si effectively pulled him up into a sitting position then he grabbed the other pillow and they embarked on a lengthy pillow fight. They collapsed into heaps of laughter when one of the pillows burst and rained little pellets of filling all over the room. "And I thought this only happened in movies," Si said, sitting back on his mat. He grabbed his sleeping bag and slipped back into it. They chatted a while longer over another beer. When they finally turned off the lights Jake lay awake. After a while he said. "You still awake?"
"Yup."
"I'm glad you're having my back. I wouldn't want it any other way."
They got up early the next morning and took a maglev train to Princeton. They got Jake's truck from the garage at Tom's condo, but instead of driving north towards Cape Cod they spontaneously decided to go to Gettysburg instead where they spent the day at the National Military Park and the Civil War Museum. After their tours it was time to drive back to Princeton to meet up with Tom for supper. On the interstate Jake put the truck into auto-pilot to follow the automated lane tracking and guidance system almost all the way back to Princeton.
They traded stories from their childhood and from when they were teenagers and Jake explained how he had dreamed of becoming a professional snowboarder and how his first accident had put an end to that.
"So when did you decide that you wanted to become a Marine?" Si asked.
"I always wanted to do something that involves being physically active, but it wasn't until about six months after I finished high school that the idea really took hold. It was a challenge I gave myself. They get what, eighty thousand applications every year?"
"But you didn't join straight away, why?"
Jake shook his head. "No, I was almost twenty by the time I finished school and my grades were so shocking that I had to make sure I would outclass everyone else in physical ability. So I worked construction for three years while I put myself through an exercise regimen like daily fifteen km trail runs with a twenty kilo backpack and I spent a lot of time at the shooting range as well and it paid off, didn't it?" A pained look appeared on Jake's face.
Si raised and inquisitive eyebrow. "What paid off?"
"Three years of hard work to get in and another four to rise through the ranks to be in a wheelchair by the age of twenty eight." Jake looked at Si and his face was drawn. He put his thumb and index finger together with just a small gap remaining. "As you know, I was this close to being promoted to Sergeant. I did all the classes, passed all the exams already, but because of some stupid technicality they wouldn't give it to me yet and then they kicked me out without even considering any alternatives. I suppose a guy in a wheelchair doesn't fit their ideal public image, unless he's a vet."
"You've never been this cynical before, what happened?"
"I'm just saying it as it is. Life's a bitch sometimes—but regardless, I'm still a Marine, Si. I still believe that I can make a difference somehow—just not sure how at the moment." Jake was silent for a moment. "Think of the Gettysburg address. Lincoln spoke of freedom and true equality. I think we are further away from these ideals of the Declaration of Independence than ever before; 'a government of the people, by the people, for the people'. That's what we're supposed to be fighting for. Not some corporate interests that will only benefit a select few."
Si was frowning. "So how do we make a difference?"
"I don't know." Jake said with a heavy sigh. "It's a question I've asked myself many times. How do I stand up for something if I can't even stand up anymore?"
"Why must the one inform the other?"
"I deal with prejudice every day. Can you see the movie that's playing behind people's eyes when they see me? 'Poor man, so young, it's so sad, he must hate life, I hope I never end up like him'. How do I cut through the crap and make people see beyond my disability? It's not me that's disabled; it's them because they can't even see beyond their own prejudice."
"You prove them wrong."
"I try, man, I try. Every day I try."
"Jake, you've got nothing if not tenacity. I'm sure that one day you will prove them all wrong."
"Thanks, Si for believing in me."
"I wanted to ask you about something you said last night. You said that even with the spinal treatment you will never make a full recovery. Explain that to me?"
"Re-growing and reconnecting nerve tissue is not an exact science. And there are hundreds of thousands of individual nerve fibers to reconnect. So there would be crossed wires so to speak. After the regrowth is complete some of the nerves may not reconnect on their own at all so I will have to have another serious spinal surgery. But all that means is that the hardware is back in place. Then I will still have to learn how to walk again. So taking all those things into account there is a realistic chance that about four years after I start the process I will be able to walk short distances without crutches. Long walks, running, snowboarding and such will probably never happen."
"I'm sorry, man, but I still think if anyone can do it and get all those things back it's you."
"What if I don't? Would I be any less of a person? Would I be a better friend to you if I could run?"
"Of course not."
"So don't you agree that it's better to have realistic expectations than to rely on a miracle and be disappointed if it doesn't happen?"
"You are perfectly right. It's so easy to fall into the prejudice trap. Even though I know you; but I also know how physical you are and how much of a perfectionist." A slight look of embarrassment appeared on Si's face for a moment. "I guess I'm still seeing things from the perspective that I cannot imagine what it would be like for me to not be able to walk."
"Your perspective changes once you haven't walked for a year. I really appreciate that you want things to be better for me and I understand where you are coming from, but I have accepted that this is who I am. Can you accept me as I am without loading unrealistic expectations on me? Because my brother can't."
"Jake, whatever you are happy with is good enough for me."
"What I would be happy with is to be able to stand up, to walk from one end of a room to the other and back and to be able to pee without having to shove a plastic tube up my dick. That's it. Everything else would be a bonus."
The dashboard computer indicated the end of the automated traffic lane. Jake took over the controls again and they drove the rest of the way to Tom's place.
After supper Tom volunteered to drive them back to New York. It was the first time that he'd been to Jake's place.
"Gee, you weren't joking when you said this place is the size of a letterbox." Tom turned slowly on the spot in the middle of Jake's tiny apartment.
"No, but it works for me." Jake had moved from the wheelchair to the cot. He sat at the end, next to the wall-mounted ladder and was busy strapping himself into the brace. "Would you like a coffee or something before you go back?" He addressed Tom.
"Yeah, coffee would be nice." Tom sat down on the cot next to Jake. "What are you doing?"
"I need to go to the bathroom and it's too narrow for the wheelchair." Jake pulled himself up on the ladder and grabbed the crutches. "Si would you mind making coffee so long?"
"Sure." He stood out of the way to make space for Jake to cross the room and disappear into the tiny bathroom.
Tom regarded Jake wearily from behind his back. When the door had closed behind him he said. "You know, I'll be away for nearly eighteen years, but the pay is very good with minimal expenses. I hope it will be enough that by the time I come back I can pay for his treatment."
Si stopped making coffee, turned around and looked curiously at Tom. "And you would do that out of the kindness of your heart or because you still feel guilty for wishing he was disabled when you were teenagers or because you feel sorry for him?" He motioned with his head towards the bathroom door. "Don't worry he can't hear you—if they got one thing right in these micro-flats it's soundproofing."
"I guess it's all of the above." His gaze flicked away for a moment but then he looked at Si again.
"Then he'll never accept it." He resumed the coffee making.
Tom looked surprised. "Why?"
"You really don't get it, do you? Because there's nothing wrong with him."
"He can't walk for god's sake."
"And? You can't hit a moving target a kilometer away. He can."
"That's different."
"No, it's not. Tom—Jake will never make a full recovery. Even with the treatment he will probably never run, never jump, never snowboard. After years of treatment he may be able to walk a mile without crutches on a level surface."
"That's statistical averages. Knowing Jake he'd do it in half the time and more than that. Once he's set his sight on something he won't stop."
"I tell you now. He won't take your money because it's tied to expectations that he wouldn't even want to meet, let alone being physically able to. He's not a copy of you. He never has been and never will be. However similar you may look. So think about that while you are away; that you need to accept him as he is—now. Only when you are prepared to give unconditionally, only then may he actually accept it."
"Accept what?" The bathroom door slid open and Jake stuck his head out.
"Nothing." Si shook his head. "Just giving your brother some advice for the long journey."
Jake moved across to the cot and sat down. "How's the coffee coming?"
Si poured three cups and put them on the table. Then he grabbed the wheelchair and set down as well.
Tom lifted his mug. "Cheers. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?"
"We haven't made any plans. We'll do whatever we feel like." Si responded.
"I feel like getting another tattoo. What do you think, Si?" Jake asked.
"I'm up for that." Si looked at Tom. "This is what we'll do tomorrow, get new tattoos."
Tom drained the rest of his coffee. "Well better you than me." He got up. "Thanks for the coffee and thanks for the travel tips, Si. I'll take them under consideration."
"You do that and I'll see you back on Earth in eighteen years. Have a good trip."
"Bye Tom. I'll catch up with you during the week."
"Bye." Tom hit the door button, the door opened and he walked out into the dark corridor, the door closing behind him.
"So what were you talking about?" Jake asked.
"Tom's rescue complex. He feels you need rescuing and I told him that he's wrong."
"Thanks mate. I can't seem to get that into his thick head."
"I don't know if I was any more successful than you, but at least I tried."
Late the next morning they set out to the nearest tattoo shop. They browsed through the portfolio and picked out tattoos for each other. Jake considered having one on his lower leg, but Si protested that it was meant to be a bonding exercise and where was the bonding for Jake if Si was the only one to endure the pain. Jake saw his point and had the large tribal put on his upper arm instead. Si had his tattoo put on his back, on top of his shoulder blade; a Celtic knot of three intertwined, stylized lions.
Later that evening they went back to Saul's for supper. When they had finished they took their beers to the back of the restaurant where a pool table was set up. The table was busy. Jake and Si watched for a while then Jake got some tokens and placed them on the edge of the pool table to challenge the incumbents. They were three men and a woman, the men gruff looking biker types.
"I don't play with cripples."
The man who had made the comment leaned over the table as if to line up a shot, but instead he pulled the cue backwards aiming it towards Jake's head. Jake leaned back reflexively to avoid being hit in the head and a stab of pain shot through his back. He grimaced but kept his mouth shut. When Si saw the pained expression on his friend's face he rushed up, grabbed the guy by the collar and shoved him against the wall. "You did that on purpose. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Si, it's okay. Let him go. He's not worth it."
"No, it's not okay. He can show you some common courtesy." Si drew his fist back to line up a punch at the man's face. "You apologize to him, now."
The other two men were slowly drawing closer. Jake was eying them wearily. He noticed how one of the mends hands was rotated backwards, most likely concealing a knife. Jake positioned himself at an angle at Si's back, ready to intervene.
The man Si was pinning against the wall lifted his hands in surrender. Then he looked at Jake. His eyes were glassy. He clearly had too much to drink. "Sorry, man. Can't you guys take a joke?" The other two relaxed a bit, but the tension was still palpable.
Si let go of the collar, took a step back and lowered his fist.
"I've got wheels, by the looks of things you guys got wheels, so where is the problem?" Jake inquired.
"Ours are faster and we don't need training wheels." The woman, who had hung back stepped forward, passing between the other two. Jake saw her take what he assumed was the knife out of the man's hand. The noise of a blade retracting confirmed his hunch, but she simply slid the knife into the back pocket of her jeans. You would have missed it if you didn't realize what you were looking at Jake thought. She was tall and slender, bleach-blond with short hair and clothes that were hugging her figure, maybe in her early forties. Her features were too average to call her beautiful, but overall she wasn't unattractive at all. She stubbed her cigarette out in an ashtray then extended her hand towards Jake "Wendy. Sorry for these infidels. They've got no manners."
Jake shook it. "Jake."
She turned around to the men in her group. "Come on boys let's play nice." She turned back to Jake and Si. "You two look like soldier boys. Is this how you got hurt?"
"Yes, ma'am." Jake replied. Si just nodded.
She pointed at each of her companions. "Rob, Martin and Flip; actually Phillip but don't call him that or he will flip." She laughed at her own joke and the tension finally dispelled; she was clearly in charge of the group. "Rob why don't you get our upstanding freedom fighters here some beers; so that we can get back to playing pool." She turned to Si. "And your name is?"
"Si—short for Sipho not Simon as most people think."
"Come on Flip, rack up, you and I will play Jake and Si here, first." Flip started collecting the balls and lining them up in the rack.
"Shall we play for something?" Jake suggested.
"Money?" Wendy replied.
"No, money's boring. What kind of bike have you got?"
"Forget it. I'm not playing for my bike."
"That's not what I'm suggesting. So what?"
"A Harley Mission X10."
"Fancy. How about if Si and I win we get to take your bike for a spin?"
"Ok, but what do I get in return if you lose?"
"What do you want?"
She leaned forward and whispered something into Jake's ear.
"For real?" Jake looked at her surprised.
Wendy nodded.
"So it's the four of us, alternating teams against the two of you, best out of nine?" Flip said.
"Deal." Jake said.
Rob arrived back with the round of beers.
Si got two off him and brought one over to Jake. He knelt down next to him. "So what does she want?" He said quietly.
"She wants to sleep with me."
Si grinned. "Lucky bastard. Shall we play to win or lose?"
"We play to win. If she really wants to she'll come back for more."
After eight games they were drawn and their last game in which Wendy and Martin were playing against Jake and Si came down to who would call and sink the eight ball. While Martin was lining up his shot, Jake rolled up to Si. "My shot. If we win we both get something out of it, if not then it's just me." Jake grinned. "Your call."
"No, your call. You decide what you want. I'm fine either way." Si replied.
Martin missed. Jake positioned himself and lined up the balls and cue. Then without raising his head he looked up at Wendy who was looking back at him expectantly. He winked. "Right corner," he said and hit the white ball just above the center. The eight ball dropped into the right corner pocket—and the white ball followed it.
They had played a few more rounds then Si and Jake made their way back to the letterbox. Before they had left, Jake had agreed with Wendy to meet her at Saul's on Tuesday evening. When they arrived outside the door of Jake's place, Si asked "Do you think this is a good idea?"
"What is?" Jake entered the code and the door slid open. They entered and the door closed behind them.
"Picking up a woman who doesn't know you from Adam who says she wants to sleep with you?" Si folded up the table and threw himself onto Jake's cot.
"I'm not planning on getting involved with her. She's just curious I think and I'm curious why she's curious so it's a win-win situation don't you think?" He grinned.
"I just don't want you to get hurt again."
"Do you think I'm being stupid?"
"No, it's just that you seem to be going from one extreme to the next. Five months ago you tried to kill yourself over the death of your wife and unborn child and now you're picking up random women in bars. I'm just trying to understand you."
Jake tilted the wheelchair back and balanced for a bit, contemplating then he did a 360 and sat back forward. "I hear you Si. Emily will always have a special place in my heart, but she's gone and nobody can bring her back." He sat in silence for a while scratching the stubble on his chin. "I overheard something that JJ said to Franklin after I broke my hand the second time."
Si interrupted. "You broke you hand twice?" He looked at Jake incredulously.
Jake nodded. "Yes, I'm not proud of that. I just couldn't deal with the pain—the emotional pain. Anyway. They thought I was out, but I was already coming around. JJ said that I used Emily as a crutch. And he was right. What Emily did for me was to make me feel normal. I needed that at the time. I needed her so that I could feel that I am just like any other guy. Don't get me wrong Si. I'm not saying that I was using Emily on purpose. I didn't really understand the role she played in my life until much later, not until after New Year. I was happy with her; incredibly happy. And when she died I felt that I could never be happy again. But what she has really given me—her legacy so to speak—is to understand that I don't need another person to make me happy. Right here, right now I am happy with who I am; without anybody else having to prop me up. I'm happy with the choices I've made and the consequences. I have no regrets, Si. It has been a very hard and painful twenty months from when I hung in that tree and couldn't feel my legs anymore to come to this point, but I finally, finally know who I am again."
On Monday morning, Tom was sitting at a table in the break room of the RDA training facility near Princeton, staring at the empty coffee mug in front of him.
"What's up man?" Xeno-anthropologist Norm Spellman walked into the room and poured himself some coffee. "What are you thinking about?" He sat down across from Tom.
"I saw my brother and a friend of his on Friday night. I've been thinking about that."
"You never mentioned you had brother. What's his name?"
"Jake."
"Is he older? Younger?"
"Same, well technically he's half an hour younger than me. We're twins."
Norm looked at Tom in astonishment. "We've been in this training program together for nearly three years and you never mentioned that you have a twin brother why?"
Tom sighed. "To me he's like the crazy relative you keep under wraps and hope your friends never meet."
"Why? What did he do?"
"Well, he used to be a Marine—a sniper. He used to kill people for a living. I just can't condone that."
"And what's he doing now?"
"Now he's paralyzed and in a wheelchair and working at the NYPD as a dispatcher."
"Aaah." Norm didn't say anything else for a while just sipped his coffee, while Tom carried on staring pensively at his own empty mug. Then Norm said, "and what are you thinking about now?"
"Something Jake's friend said. He said 'there is nothing wrong with Jake' about the fact that my brother can't walk anymore. I just don't get that. Jake used to be the most physical person I know. He hardly ever sat still. Now he can't do anything but and his friend says there's nothing wrong with him?" Tom shook his head.
"How long has he been paralyzed?"
"Two years in August."
"And they can't fix his spine?"
"Technically they can, it's just very expensive. I was thinking about what it would be like for him if he was to connect to my avatar—if he would be able to walk and run and jump like he used to."
"Why wouldn't he? So you're identical twins?"
Tom nodded. "Don't you think it would be a complete mind-fuck to be able-bodied in your avatar and then when you get out of the link to come back to the reality that you are crippled?"
"Yeah, that must be difficult."
"I just can't decide if it's fortunate or unfortunate that he'll never know the difference."