Chapter 38
SANTA FE
JUNE 17, 2022, 4:03 A.M.
AGE: 36
IMANAGED TO HITCHHIKE TO THE NEAREST BUS STATION, A CORRUGATED metal shack on the outskirts of Santa Fe. My ceremony gown was caked in dust. A tote bag dangled limply from my elbow. In it, shockingly, were my wallet and phone. But the Memo app had vanished. Only one text had come in, from 000–000:
You’re on your own, loser.
I had enough money in my checking account for a one-way ticket back to Pittsburgh. After dozing on a bench in the bus station for a little over an hour, I boarded the bus and collapsed in a row near the back. The upholstered seats smelled like stale milk. I’d call Geeta as soon as I was alone, I strategized, as my eyelids closed, heavy as weighted blankets.
As the bus wound its way through New Mexico’s dark and pitted flatlands, I drifted in and out of horrifying dreams, occasionally waking as we came to another stop. All I knew was that I was now thirty-six, locked in my suboptimal existence, and unable to do anything to rectify the mistakes I had made in the past. I had thrown away my one precious shot.
I drifted off again, only to be woken up by a familiar pinelike scent. I craned my neck back and looked over the rows of other passengers in various states of wakefulness. Now I saw that one passenger, her face covered in a light linen scarf, was coming to join me. She had a massive emerald ring on her middle finger, but the surrounding turquoise was gone. I stifled a gasp as Desiree slid into the seat next to mine. The aroma of her perfume overpowered the stale smell of the bus.
“Have you been here this whole time?” I asked.
She looked like she had aged ten years since I’d seen her gushing about me onstage. “I staked my entire career on you, Jenny.” Her jaw was set in a tight lock. “There are consequences for failure, at least in the world I inhabit.”
I couldn’t tell if she was trying to shame me or just state the facts. Maybe both.
“I was excommunicated from the Consortium because of you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t try to mess things up for you, Desiree. But I couldn’t do it. I tried.”
“Not hard enough. You didn’t want it. We cannot help you anymore, even if we wanted to—which we don’t,” Desiree said. “Why do I keep saying ‘we’? Now it’s ‘they.’”
“I’m sure they will understand it wasn’t your fault, eventually,” I said hopefully.
“Oh, but it was. I nominated you,” Desiree said. “Next time, if there is a next time, the Consortium will have to pick a subject who isn’t quite as hopeless and error-prone.”
“But you did get some promising data, right?” I said meekly. “Haven’t I advanced the science of the study of the soul?” A woman seated across the aisle gave a dramatic clear of her throat, and I lowered my voice. “Haven’t I proven that it is possible to fix your life retroactively?”
“You have proven the opposite,” said Desiree. “You are the human embodiment of a null hypothesis.”
As much as it stung, I was surprised by how much I didn’t regret my decision, the decision I’d made in my heart before my mind even realized I’d made it. “You could have declined the program much earlier if you knew you weren’t up to the task,” Desiree tutted.
“I thought I was up to the task. I really did.”
“You’re going to have a lot of work to do, Jenny. You’ll be busy enough for a lifetime dealing with all the disjunctions you have caused. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I gritted my teeth and leaned my head against the headrest. Somehow I managed to fall back to sleep. When I woke up again, the bus was still threading through barren landscape and Desiree was still sitting next to me.
“Can I ask you something?” I knew I was pushing my luck but this might be my last chance to get answers. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “You say your Memo is so great. But why did Geeta have to ride Levi’s plane? Why was death... written for her?”
Desiree exhaled impatiently. “That part wasn’t what was written. It was just a side effect.”
“I don’t follow.”
“You know that the mortality rate is 2.6 times higher for the people we help.”
“You never told me that.”
“It was in the fine print. High rewards require high risks. Haven’t you ever watched a documentary about the Kennedys?”
“And this never troubled you? These are your clients whose lives you’re supposed to be improving, not destroying,” I said. “And you know what else? I think that the ‘tall-poppy syndrome’ theory is total bullshit by the way.” Desiree stiffened in her seat. “You don’t believe in it either! Geeta was never threatened by the prospect of my success. You totally lied to me.”
“I put my neck out for you,” Desiree hissed. “I did everything I could to help you find happiness.”
“No you didn’t. Geeta did! She just knew that I had to achieve it authentically or I’d be miserable. She came to save me from making a huge mistake. She must have understood that I’d saved her from making one, too. And that’s why you wanted her dead. So you could get credit for the Jenny Green experiment. She was your biggest obstacle.”
“The two of you.” Desiree shook her head. “You have no idea what you’ve both unleashed. No idea!”
I had no words. The bus wheezed to a stop in a rural town called Custer Springs. “This is me,” Desiree said, rising in her pumps. “The first of many transfers to Sequoia Falls. It’s not exactly a world-class destination, ergo not a highly traveled route. It’s been tremendous reconnecting with you, Jenny.” She shot a fake smile at me. “Enjoy the rest of your suboptimal life.”
The driver announced that we’d be taking a ten-minute rest stop. His words roused most of my fellow bus riders, but I stayed put, and stared straight ahead. Finally, the remaining passengers returned to our vehicle and the front door heaved closed. Only when we inched toward the freeway did I allow myself to fully exhale. I turned toward the window. There was Desiree, standing stock still by the side of the road. Our eyes met, and she raised her middle finger mightily, her emerald ring glinting off the vehicle’s rear beams.