Chapter 6
I had a brother.
Ana stood in the bathroom of the new suite at Le Royal Monceau and upended the contents of her bag on the counter. She kept her gaze down and away from her reflection and tried not to think about the last time she'd been in a bathroom with so many mirrors.
"Hey, Ana?" Ariadne's voice was muffled through the thick door. "Are you okay? Is there anything I can help with?"
"I'm fine!" Ana called out, shoving her bag out of the way. She pushed everything around until everything was neatly laid out before her. "I just need a moment to myself. I'm okay."
But she was lying.
Ana was furious.
After the revelation at the café, Eames had clammed up, trying to redirect Ana's attention elsewhere. The only thing Eames would admit to was that Matthew had been her older twin; something that made Ana even more determined to learn more about him. But Eames wouldn't yield.
As a result, the walk to the hotel had been silent and tense. She felt betrayed though she knew that she had no right to expect he would help her; if anything, Arthur and Eames had both been managing her for the past 24 hours.
Still, she felt that Eames wanted to tell her more about herself but for some reason, Matthew was off limits for the time being.
"It's all you need to know for now." Eames had said firmly. As if he had a timeline, as if he–
He has no right. It's my brother, I should know about him.
Ana closed her eyes and reached up to touch the necklace under her sweater, feeling the hard locket beneath her fingertips.
M & M.
Her totem had to do with her brother; they must have been close. And they were twins for god's sake. Ana had felt nothing when Eames had said his name and that bothered her. There was only curiosity but no sadness, no real grief at the fact that her twin brother was dead.
He deserves to be remembered. Even if I can't truly mourn him, I should at least know who he was.
Eames' decision to withhold information was an insult to her brother. It was also an indication that his death may have had something to do with her current situation.
Arthur thinks I did something to myself.
I'd been in trouble but Eames and Arthur had "taken care of it."
Did Matthew have something to do with that trouble? Was he the reason Arthur suspected she'd harmed herself intentionally?
"He didn't even stick around," Ana said out loud. She opened her eyes and stared at the objects on the counter. "Coward."
Eames had left shortly after dropping her off at the suite, saying that he had a few loose ends to tie up but that he'd be back before Arthur and Yusuf arrived. Ariadne and Miron had already set up Miron's lab space and Ana knew they'd both been asked to keep an eye on her.
But as soon as the front door was shut behind Eames, Ana had fled to the bathroom, needing to be alone. Besides, now that she was away from Arthur and Eames, she felt as if she could really concentrate. Being angry wasn't going to help matters so she decided to really put an effort into figuring out just who exactly she was. Eames and Arthur were more concerned about the how and Ana opted to let them deal with that. After all, they obviously didn't need her help.
Ana pushed aside the frustration and confusion and focused on the items in front of her.
A set of keys including one for a car, a large pocketbook, U.S. passport, notebook and pen, mobile, a small book called Einstein's Dreams, and a couple of receipts.
Not a lot of stuff considering the size of the bag.
Ana picked up the passport and opened it.
Analiese Keller. Born in San Francisco, CA. Date of Birth 5-13-1983. Date of Issue 1-25-2011
Stamps from Russia, Germany, Iceland and the U.S.
Another fake identity. Ana tossed the passport back in the bag, disgusted. She'd entered the country under an alias so technically she was already a criminal. She picked up the pocketbook next and studied the outside carefully before undoing the clasp, digging through the slots as best she could. It was new and the pockets didn't have much stretch so she'd likely only used it once or twice; the gold clasp had only a couple of scratches on its surface.
Inside, there were only a fake ID and a few credit cards bearing the name on the passport. Her eyes widened when she saw the sheaf of loose bills tucked in the outside pocket.
Over a thousand Euros, she thought.
Interesting.
She put the pocketbook away and then moved onto the mobile. It was a smartphone, a bit on the heavy side which was unusual. She held it up to eye level and frowned – it seemed thicker than the phone that Eames had and they were the same brand. Probably a work phone, possibly government-issued with extra security or tracking features. Though she knew it was a risk, she pressed a button… And huffed in frustration.
Passcode locked.
But it looked as if she could access unopened messages. There were 24 unread texts. She scrolled through them and saw that the majority had come from someone listed as Gideon.
She frowned as she began to read each message, feeling a growing sense of unease. The earliest were dated three days prior:
where are you? wellers said you took the week off for an emergency
what's wrong?
give me a call. I want to help
They became more urgent and panicked as time passed:
what are you doing? don't do anything stupid
is it about arthur?
Did he get you into trouble again? let me help
And then in the past 12 hours:
got a hit from dulles. someone matched your descr. whats in paris?
are you in trouble?
don't trust arthur don't listen to him
avery called. said you came to see him and he's worried
And then, most troubling:
omw to you. don't leave paris
That was the last message, sent yesterday night. Ana thought quickly; given the time difference, if Gideon was traveling from Dulles as she apparently had, he would arrive in Paris later that night. She put the mobile away with a trembling hand. She felt like prey being pursued. Even though she didn't know who Gideon was, a feeling of dread settled heavy in her stomach. The tone of the texts made it sound as if… As if she were …
In danger being around Arthur and by extension, Eames and everyone else.
The area code from Gideon's number and Dulles airport signaled Washington. Ana stared down at the heavy phone in her hand and put it back in the bag, thoughtful.
Wherever it is I was from, I left in a rush. I even took a week off from… Work?
I work in D.C.
Some sort of state or federal gig?
The compass in her head was spinning, unable to decide on a point. She needed more information. Ana set the mobile aside and quickly assessed the keys and receipts.
The receipts were for a taxi from the airport; she'd arrived late the night before yesterday which meant she really had just flown in.
Explains why I didn't unpack.
The keys were older, used frequently and American-made. No keychain or anything that might point to a specific location or personality quirk.
She quickly pushed them aside and then picked up the book and flipped through it, raising her eyebrows when she caught highlighted passages. One in particular caught her eye. It was highlighted like the others but it was also underlined:
"The tragedy of this world is that no one is happy, whether stuck in a time of pain or of joy. The tragedy of this world is that everyone is alone. For a life in the past cannot be shared with the present. Each person who gets stuck in time gets stuck alone."
And in a scrawl underneath, Ana read:
Not if the dreamer isn't aware of the dream. Not if the dream feels like reality. Dr. Janus said it shouldn't be done. But he also said it was POSSIBLE.
Ana closed the book slowly. It felt as if she had seen something private though she knew rationally that she must have written the words. The handwriting was feminine, the characters slanted slightly to the right but the script was scribbled in, as if she'd lost control of her pen and sloped downward. She plucked the pen from beside the notebook and copied the sentence on the page.
The handwriting was hers.
Graphology isn't exactly a science but the writing was erratic and disturbed, Ana thought as she put the book down. I was in a rush, or upset when I wrote that.
She put it aside to read through closely later and then picked up the notebook. She flipped through it quickly but found that only one page had been written on.
Noon. Lycée International of St Germain-en-Laye. Rue du Fer à Cheval BP 5230/St Germain-en-Laye
"I was gone for three hours yesterday," Ana muttered. She put the notebook down.
Chalk and chocolate.
Lycée.
She knew what that one word meant.
Ana glanced at the closed door thoughtfully.
###
"…so we eliminate the possibility of a defective formula first," Arthur said, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He was headed back to the city from the airport and he stared at the road ahead as he went over their next steps with Yusuf.
"Look over Miron's notes. I'll go under using the batch that Ana tested while you replicate the formula from his notes. We'll test that version with Eames. If we find that Miron's formula was sound, then Eames and I will go under with her. I'll need you to make something that will keep Ana's subconscious pliant, if that's the case."
"You're afraid that she'll attack you if you share a dream," Yusuf said beside him in the passenger seat.
Arthur sighed and looked at the other man. Yusuf gazed back at him with an expression of undisguised pity. "You militarized her, did you not? You know what she is capable of."
Arthur bit back his response to the faint dig and drummed his fingers on the wheel. Yusuf was a brilliant chemist – greedy but more trustworthy than most of the people he had worked with since he started in the business. Arthur knew where he stood with Yusuf. His compounds were second to none and Arthur wouldn't even consider working with anyone else to try and unravel their current situation.
But Yusuf was Eames' man and his loyalties, as subtle as they ran, were to him. He was here on behalf of Eames; Arthur could not let himself forget that.
"How much do you know about the Lewis job?" he asked.
Yusuf shrugged. "I've heard enough."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that I'm not entirely sure why Ana is working with you again."
Arthur snorted. "And you don't question the same with Eames?"
"Eames played his role. He knows this," Yusuf said. "But simple hatred can be overcome, unlike betrayal. First and foremost Ana's faith was with you."
Right, and I shattered that faith, didn't I?
Arthur looked away and closed his mouth, clenching his jaw as he drove.
"So we have to rule out biology first," he said, after a brief silence. "After that, then we can consider… We can consider other options."
"She remembers everything but herself," Yusuf mused. "She knows the year but not her age. She knows cities but not her name. She is aware of the world but she reacts negatively to her own reflection. Arthur, there's a high probability that this is the first, true example of a willful Pur–"
"It's not possible." Arthur shook his head adamantly. "Not like this. Something of this level, this scope requires a level of sophistication and experience in dreamshare that Ana doesn't have."
"She is a very smart woman with deep resources."
"But it's too specific," Arthur said. "Look, memories are cross-linked. Everyone knows this. You try and Purge one category of information – a single memory, even one hour's worth – and associated memories are either lost or become incomplete. You try and do something like that in a dream, a wholesale Purge like that of the self, and one wrong move could have you waking up a drooling idiot."
And it was true; Arthur had seen it happen. While dreamshare had come out of the military, there were certain groups that used it for therapeutic purposes. Topside, it was still an experimental device but psychologists and psychotherapists were beginning to use the PASIV to help people recover from neurological and psychological trauma.
One highly controversial use was the Purging of intense emotions related to a memory or the memory itself. It was a hotly debated topic since some psychologists were advocating Purging in dealing with people who suffered from multiple personality disorder. Integration was barely accepted as a form of therapy; Purging was the wholesale deletion of alters. No one was sure it was even possible but Arthur knew people would find a way…
And it's not even a true Purge. It's more of a disintegration of a personality.
As if the mind could cannibalize itself.
But that was all theory, of course. As Yusuf had said, Ana was smart but there was no way she could do this to herself. She wasn't trained to play with the mind that deeply…
And yet?
Arthur drew in a deep breath. He knew that rage and guilt and grief could drive a person to unimaginable actions.
Dom was willing to sacrifice all of us to Limbo in order to get home.
How far would Ana go?
How far has she gone?
"There's a man in the states," Yusuf said blithely, unaware of Arthur's racing thoughts. "Doctor Levi Deckard. He recently wrote a paper on distorted perceptions of the self; diseases like the Cotard Delusion or Anton's Syndrome. The latter part of his paper dealt with the fact that the brain has several gauges. One of these gauges that Deckard hypothesizes measures existence."
"Christ, Ana knows she exists and she knows, or she at least believes us when we tell her she's not dreaming," Arthur said. "She doesn't have a problem with the reality of herself."
"You didn't let me finish," Yusuf said. Arthur saw him wave his hand around from the corner of his eye.
"His point was that the brain can track itself. Memories may be interconnected but what if… Just what if someone could take the sum of their parts – the memories that make them who they are and contain them into only one or two projections?"
"Bullshit. It's impossible."
"People thought inception was impossible until we did it. Many people still think it's a myth even though it's been years."
Arthur let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Say you're right, say it can be done. Bottomline is that it's still theory. There's no process laid out. At least with inception, we understood how to lay the groundwork for an idea."
He glanced at Yusuf and shook his head again.
"Combining all of those elements, all of these distributed memories into one, consolidated projection is… It goes beyond the mind, Yusuf. You're talking neurology and none of us is equipped to deal with that, least of all Ana. She's had other things to worry about in the past few months."
"I think, my friend, you'd be surprised at what desperate people are willing to do," Yusuf said, almost gently. "Sometimes, reality can be a far more frightening prospect than dreams and with what she went through, I can only–"
"You don't know anything about what happened," Arthur said flatly. "So let me worry about what Ana may or may not have done. You worry about Miron's formula and if it comes down to it, ensure that we can enter a dream without Ana turning on us."
"As you wish," Yusuf said simply.
Arthur opened his mouth to say something else, to tell Yusuf to keep his mouth shut around Ana, when his phone rang. He reached out and tapped his phone screen, which was propped up in a slot on the dashboard.
He frowned when he saw the caller's name. He glanced at Yusuf and hit the answer button.
"Ariadne?"
"Arthur!" Ariadne's voice was strained and when she spoke her words were said in a breathless rush. "Arthur, oh thank God. Eames isn't answering his phone and I've been trying to call him because I figured that you were still at the airport and couldn't–"
"Ariadne, what's wrong?" Arthur asked.
"Arthur, it's Ana… She's gone."
###
Thanks for reading- please read/review!