Join us.

She’d gone. She’d joined and he’d lost her.

Forever.

The hamster in the wheel of his recall kept running endlessly, backtracking through their relationship. Where did I go wrong? Was she ever who I thought she was?

In James’s mind, the girl he’d met in high school could never have joined them. She was too straight-laced and proper. While (and this part of his reminiscence was pleasant) she had been hot-blooded and adventurous in the bedroom, she had a sense of decorum, a sense of conformity. A “whatever will the neighbours think?” response to the world.

Well, she always added the rider “so let’s not have them find out.” Even the memories of her were wonderful, if not also infinitely bittersweet with her loss.

The “better loved and lost” homily was half true, at least. Would he have preferred to have never had her in his life?

For all the pain he felt now? Never.

This was going nowhere. The house was quiet. Too quiet. He flicked on the TV for some noise and the desperate illusion of company.

The news channel. Guess that’s what he was last watching. It had been a while. Or maybe it just felt that way.

The Controversy was still going on. Between a talking head whose hair screamed ‘preacherman’ and the other … well … James couldn’t avoid them. They were part of his world now. An intimate part of his suffering.

“… and I said they be an ABOMINATION unto the LORD. A BLIGHT on HUMANITY, corrupting the YOUTH of AMERICA!”

His opponent was unperturbed by the preacherman’s attacks. Addressing the host of the current affairs show, she stated things matter-of-factly. “Reverend Stevens uses inflammatory and offensive language to push his points but I shall not stoop to his level. We are not a pestilence or a plague or, as Reverend Steven archaically names us, a ‘blight’ on humanity or anything else.”

Scene cuts back to the host on a very professional and businesslike set. “Are you denying the basic, uh, nature of your … condition?” It amused James to see the hose be so delicate in his statement and so very politically correct.

The woman sighed, clearly far too used to this question. Even though her kind had taken his wife away from him, he had some sympathy for her, as an individual. Then James shook himself. That was precisely the point with her. With all of them.

“The Virus may be technically a form of contagion, but in reality, it’s a vehicle for a greater consciousness. If anything, it’s a meta-consciousness that allows humanity to experience a hive-mind of connection. There are no boundaries between us – race, colour, creed – all become one.”

The preacherman broke in, quoting from the Bible. “I am Legion: for we are many.”

Camera shunts back to the host. “That brings up an interesting point, Ms Andrews. What happens to the individual in the hive-mind?”

Ms Andrews opened her mouth to answer the question but James changed the channel. It would be the same old answer as they always gave. “Oh no, I’ve not lost my individuality. Look, see, I’m acting like a real person! I must be real!”

But that was exactly the problem. How could you tell the original from an almost perfect copy? Was it the real thing or a cunning and malicious alien Virus aping humanity?

The other channel wasn’t much better. It was one of those Public Service Announcements informing kids about the Infected.

“So what makes the Virus different to bad viruses? We learned about them in Biology. A teen boy was asking his Infected female teacher in a supposedly typical classroom. As if! The teacher was too cute to be a teacher when she could have been an actress or a model. The classroom was too clean, kids too attentive and well-behaved.

“Well, Billy,” – could they have come up with a more generic name for him? “- unlike other viruses such as influenza and the common cold, the Virus is intelligent and it doesn’t want to hurt us, it wants to help us.”

A girl this time. “So how does the Virus help us? Besides those pretty speckles on your face and neck?”

Those speckles lit up suddenly, like they had heard the compliment and the children oohed and ahhed. It wasn’t TV trickery, the glittery spots were the mark of the Infected, the only visible difference from baseline humanity.

All that glitters is not gold.

“Well, Jenny, there are a lot of benefits being Infected. First thing, the Virus fights off disease and other viruses and keeps you healthy! Infected heal faster and we can also alter our bodies by asking the Virus to help us. It can be simple as ‘I want a different hair colour’ or ‘I want to lose some weight’ or something even more important like ‘take my diabetes away.’

More gasps. Yeah, cured of all your ills, just let an alien virus take over your body. His own cynical commentary in counterpoint.

An interesting question from a thoughtful, bespectacled girl. James wasn’t sure it was totally staged. “What does the Virus get out of it?”

The teacher, considering the question carefully, answered with the same thoughtfulness. “Well, first and foremost, the Virus gets a new host. As long as a bit of the Virus is alive, it will continue. Its connection is directly linked with our connection to other Infected. We also think that the Virus enjoys experiencing human life, culture and everything else we do.”

As if you’re still human.

A cute, yet not overly pretty girl wrinkled her pert, turned-up nose. “Ewww, so the Virus is with you even when you poop?”

Classroom erupts into laughter. Merrily, the teacher responds. “Uh, yes – but let’s not think about that too much. I don’t!”

Another round of laughter and James wondered if their lines were actually rehearsed. It was clearly a set and an Infected actor as teacher, but were the kids real? Could they so easily accept an alien presence in their midst?

One boy, eyes shining, implored the Infected teacher. “I want to be Infected!”

But the teacher forestalled him. “It’s not legal to be Infected until you’re eighteen. Legally, like the decision to drink alcohol, the choice to be Infected is an adult choice and responsibility. Sorry, Jerry; you’ll have to wait a few more years.”

Camera cuts to the crestfallen boy who immediately brightens up with a self-satisfied smirk of juvenile cunning. When she least expects it, he quickly kisses his teacher. “There! Now I’m Infected!”

The teacher actor seems both scandalized and flattered but not at all angry – James bet that this event was staged. “No, it’s not that easy, Jimmy. The Virus knows to only infect those that are willing and available for Infection. Nice try, though” Wry grin.

She’s wrapping it up now. “Well, that’s it – if you have any more questions, there’s an Infected Information Centre near you! Feel free to visit and ask any of the people there any question you like.”

Fade to black. Despite James’s cynicism, he had enjoyed the PSA. Which spoke well of the insidious nature of it. Just like a garden-variety infection, but infecting their minds. Would the Virus spread to all humanity, reducing true humanity to just a memory, a relic of an earlier age? A modern-age dinosaur wiped out by viral evolution?

He could almost relate to the fire-breather preacherman. Reverend Stevens saw the encroaching of the Virus onto religion. The oneness they spoke of, that level of communion. It was Jung’s concept of the universal subconscious made real and expanded upon the universal consciousness.

And then the added layer of keeping one’s individuality? It seemed too good to be true. James had been around long enough to learn that if anything seemed too good to be true, it generally was.

She hadn’t thought so. At least he had supposed, unless she’d lost herself in a moment of weakness, a moment of madness. He’d heard that suicide was like that. One moment, it made perfect sense; it solved all your problems. The next moment, you realized it was a pipe-dream, a Pyrrhic victory. But between those moments anything could happen. Then it was too late, even to regret it.

He couldn’t stay here. His mind could continue its hamster-wheel over and over until it broke, wheel careering out of control.

Out. Yes, out. Noise. Life. Anything than this dead, silent, emptiness.

It had been early evening when James had started out; now the night-dwellers had fully emerged. He lurked near the strip, the bright lights, heavy ‘doof doof’ of suppressed music pounding through nightclub walls. Even if he really wasn’t part of the scene any more, it felt good to be near this throbbing pulse of the night city, the raw humanity of it.

So why was he walking up to a club with an Infected bouncer? Morbid curiosity? Pure perversity? The big fella with the bright azure markings nodded as he approached.

“Nice night for it. No cover charge; just have a couple and you’re sorted, alright?”

Stammering, “This an Infected club?” Stupid, stupid. Could you be any blunter?

Bouncer nods. “Yeah, but we’re not exclusive about it so as long as you don’t wanna jab us with antibiotics and scream ‘unclean’ at us, we’re golden, ‘kay?”

James could hardly believe that people could do that. “Does that even work? The antibiotics, I mean.”

“Nahh, the Virus isn’t dumb enough to be killed off by that stuff. So we’re safe – just a real buzz-kill – who wants to be jabbed with needles when you’re just trying to chill out, y’know?”

James put his hands up in surrender. “No problems here – can’t see why people would go to that extreme.”

“That’s it, man. I mean, we made a choice. We’re happy with it. Maybe for those other folks, maybe yourself, not your choice. That’s cool. But folks don’t gotta go around trying to take my choice away, yeah?”

The simple statements of the young bouncer affected James deeply. His wife had made her choices. Why couldn’t he accept that?

Because that choice left me behind?

Had this young man left someone behind him when he’d become Infected? What had his parents thought? Did they feel outside of his life now, the separation and segregation between human and Infected?

He must have looked extremely thoughtful in his silent contemplation for the bouncer had thought James agreeing with his point of view. “Hey, man – you’re alright. Take these – they’re complimentary drink tokens. Just buy a couple too and that’ll keep the management happy.” Conspiratorial grin with a broad wink as the bouncer ushered James inside.

Not as loud as he’d expected. Maybe really loud music annoyed the Virus? There were a fair few people on the dance floor but he didn’t join them. Maybe he was too old for that now. Maybe it was because he couldn’t dance with the woman he wanted. So he took a seat at the bar, cashed in one of the tokens and sipped his drink slowly, taking everything in. Trying to spot the differences.

“You look a little nervous.” Female voice from his right. A woman had sat next to him and ordered a drink, settling herself even before he could answer her question.

“First time in an Infected club, right?” she asked sagely. Then grinned. “It’s just a touch obvious but hey, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

The next words escaped him slowly. “I don’t know any Infected … I guess I’ve separated myself from you.”

She wasn’t offended. “Hey, that’s your call and maybe we’re not for everyone. As long as we can co-exist, that’s bully.”

She held her hand out to be shaken. “Name’s Jane.”

“James”, he responded automatically.

“Have to admit …” he started, “… you have an interesting way of speaking there.”

“Thanks … I think!” Open laughter. She gestured to her Virus markings. “You pick up a lot through the hive-mind. Different expressions, word-forms, slang. I find it fascinating. It’s like how we could pick up such things from the Internet, just the hive-mind is far more pervasive.”

She seemed so real. So had the young bouncer. He had been like a younger James. Confident, cock-sure, ready to dive into the dream-sea of possibility that is Life.

“Yeah … speaking of that …” he started, stopped and then regained his momentum. He had to ask. Even if it was the same as it ever was. “… how do I know that you’re real? You’ve joined the Infected hive-mind. How do I know you’re the same person or just a cunning copy that the Virus made?”

Jane grinned at him, not discomfited at all. “Sure, I’ll explain that to you. Under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Prove to me that you are real.”

He stammered, confused. “But I’m human. I don’t have the virus. Of course I’m real.”

“How do I know that? Maybe you’re just a copy yourself. Go on, prove it to me, then I’ll prove that I’m real as well.”

This was unexpected. The standard Infected answer was “No, I’m just the same, I just have the Virus now.” That’s the answer his wife had given him.

Yet more candid responses to this unknown woman. “I’ve never heard a response like that one from an Infected before.”

Jane smirked and clarified his statement. “No, chances are, you wouldn’t have heard that from many people before, Infected or no. I’m somewhat singular. Before I was Infected and just the same afterwards. Do you know of Descartes?” She pronounced the word ‘day cart.’

“French?” he hazarded.

“Bingo. Philosopher. ‘Cogito ergo sum’ – ‘I think, therefore I am.’”
“Yeah, I’ve head of that.” His brow furrowing. “I’ve never really understood it though. It seems too obvious and simple.”

Jane wagged a finger at him. “Not so! It’s like this. Imagine if you were hooked up to a very advanced virtual reality unit or dreaming very vividly and deeply. Your senses would not be able to tell otherwise the dream from reality – especially without an objective frame of reference. Now, imagine that your world is generated by that source. Even the people are just figments of your own or someone else’s imagination.”

“Like that old movie with that wooden-faced actor?”

“Yeah, those movies made this easier to explain, I guess.” Jane grimaced. “Moving on – the only truth you have is your own thoughts. You can think and there is evidence of your own existence. Your self-awareness is the proof of self. Even if everything else is potentially unreal.”

“So you’re saying you don’t believe in anything but yourself?”

Jane gave him a theatrical sigh. “No, quite the opposite. Because I cannot prove anything but myself, I don’t look to prove anything. I believe in my perceptions, I believe that I’m in a bar. I believe that you are not a figment of my imagination.”

“Well, thanks, I guess. What makes you ‘believe’ I’m real, when you don’t have any proof?”

Wicked grin. “Well, if you had been a figment of my imagination, I would have made you much cuter.”

His surprised affront called forth Jane’s laughter once again, but sheepishly he ended up laughing at her joke at his expense.

He was contemplative as she swigged another drink and summoned the bartender for another. He had only managed half of his first one – sipping slowly, the alcohol worked as a lubricant for his slowly sliding thoughts.

“I don’t really see the difference though. You’re talking with me and accepting my reality. Does it really matter if it’s proof or belief?”

She cocked her head like she was listening to something. “In a way, you could call it semantics. But there’s a fundamental difference between a proof and a belief – a proof is meant to be a certainty, while a belief makes no such promise of certainty. That slight difference opens my mind up to almost everything. If all we have are beliefs, all things are possible – nothing is impossible.”

James nodded. “You’re right. It’s a change of worldview and attitude. To see the world unbound by our crude perceptions, to be unlimited in scope, beyond our imaginations. All things are possible.”

Jane literally beamed, her Infected-marks glowing. “That’s a wonderful way of looking at it! I’m going to have to remember that. More … I’m going to share it.”

“With who?” Jane tapped her marks meaningful and he felt silly. Of course, the hive-mind.

In a few moments Jane almost wilted before his eyes. A vibrant and vivacious young lady in front of him earlier, now she was haunted and harrowed. As if she was in pain, burdened with suffering.

Was it something I said? Some sort of Infected faux-pas?

“Hey, look – I’m sorry if I said something to upset you …. I don’t know many Infected, you’re it, really.”

Jane rubbed her face and gave him a wan smile. “No, you didn’t offend me. And no, I’m not the only Infected you know.”

He was about to protest and then he realized it was true.

“She still misses you, James. For her, it’s like you’ve died. She grieves for you. Her love never stopped when she became Infected.”

Join us. Join me.

“She says that you couldn’t accept that it was still her.” Jane took a shuddering breath. “She can provide you with no proof of who she is. Do you believe her?”

He could already feel the tears forming. “I want to … I know she is suffering. So am I…” A ghost of a smile. “But all things are possible, right?”

An answering ghost-smile. “You got that right. Go to the head of the class.”

James asked himself – what could possibly separate him from the woman he loved? He would have walked through fire for her. What was stopping him?

Fear. Fear of the Virus.

Steeling himself. “How can I get Infected? I have to admit, I’m scared of what it will do to me. Viruses of the normal type are hardly things you normally invite right in.”

Jane leaned close to him and whispered. “I’m going to tell you something that I shouldn’t, but it might help you.”

What could make this any easier?

“You’re already Infected. Everyone is. The Virus just hasn’t presented itself yet unless you choose to accept it of your own accord. You’ve had it your entire life and it hasn’t affected you one bit.”

“Everyone?” he whispered.

Jane nodded. “So, whenever you’re ready, just say the words. Commit yourself. Your choice. You have no guarantees, no certainties.”

“All things are possible, though.”

“Indeed they are. I’ll drink to that!” Clinking glasses with him and knocking her drink back.

Now Jane sat back, waiting expectantly.

Moment of truth

“I want to be with my wife. I want to be Infected.”

A tremor ran through him, subtle shifts already occurring on a cellular level. What amazed him more was that he could know such a thing. His awareness grew inward and then expanded outward, connecting to the greater self of humanity as a whole.

James?

Sam. I’m coming home. At last.