One Heartbeat

Atal koçi fë kolsu myesk kin gapsë [ekhakabasoöm, e kakabasoöm, e kakavasoöm]. Kisuva nobekkaç; myesk kin kammyigu moçurog.

For later in the month, we the murder must [reschedule? meditate on? decide on?]. [Some unknown word] has backed out; we someone else intend to find.

Kisuva is probably a name, but I had no time to check its meaning or regional origin before work this morning. On my way to the skyrail terminal, I thought about it some more and concluded that it doesn’t matter what the name means or what its origins are; it has no bearing on the character of a man who would consider murdering someone. That the conspirators actually call their plans kin gapsë—a murder—instead of affixing some high rhetoric like the Tveshi Cultural Coalition means that they’re being more honest. Still, I want to know if the conspirators are affiliated with the Daybreak Movement or not. It seems strange that an organization so committed to its ideals and so clean of any previous assassination record would consider something, even if they are unpopular.

I did not see Aneti at all today. Her supervisor said that she called into work sick, but I believe that she is looking for the man for the assassination job. I don’t quite have enough to bring to the police yet, but at least I know that I have time before they act. I had wanted so much for everything to just be a mistake—maybe they had been talking about an interactive game, for example—especially after the extra research, but maybe … maybe I should just stop looking into Daybreak so I can concentrate on things that matter.

This afternoon, I passed by one of the holographic gardens in City Center and heard a voice calling out for me. He didn’t shout my name, but GIRL WITH THE GYENA! He ran up to me when I turned around. I recognized him almost immediately as Adviser Sari.

Mësah. I trust that you’re doing well this afternoon?

Quite well, actually … and yourself? I’m sorry that I forgot your name, but I saw you near the holographic garden and wondered …

You wondered if I were going inside, I replied, smiling at him. He relaxed visibly and fell into step beside me. No, just passing by. The holographic gardens are too expensive for me to frequent on a regular basis.

You should come to the light show with me. Adviser Sari slid his arm against the small of my back. His hand landed curled beneath my right breast. Once upon a time, someone had warned me about him, but I hadn’t paid much attention because the likelihood of meeting him was so small, and no one believes everything in tabloids. Without a moment’s hesitation, I grabbed his hand and pushed it away. I know someone who used to like them, and you remind me of her.

I’m in a relationship.

Adviser Sari stopped and stared at me. I kept walking for a few steps before I turned to face him. The rush hour crowds passed around us as though they couldn’t see us. For a moment, I wondered whether he had caused that, but he seemed so blissfully unaware of everything except me. It doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t sleep with me, either.

Is she the woman you and Akah Kara think of when you look at me?

What?

You know what I’m talking about.

He blinked. The crowd began to press in on us again; he came forward to meet me, hooking his arm through mine in a chaste social gesture. His hand kept its distance from my breasts. While he had changed tactics, I felt certain that his intention remained the same. Always keep another woman primed and ready to go, fourteen-year-old boys always said, just in case the first one rejects you. If Adviser Sari plans to make me his backup woman, he is mistaken.

Yes, she enjoyed the light shows.

I sighed. I suppose I will come with you, then. You should tell me more about her.

I’d rather not. He nodded his chin at the skyrail. We will need to take it up two stops. Walking won’t give us enough time to get there.

The light show happened in a large warehouse covered in graffiti. I saw the boarded-up scars of the war with the Occupationists on the outside, some of it soldered and some of it pounded into the metal walls. A large sign above the rolling doors read “HYDROPONICS LABORATORY,” but the word “hydroponics” was missing several vowels. Inside, the owners had cut out all of the upper floors so that it looked like a giant square auditorium. Large columns supported the roof and seating lined three of the four walls. A giant white sheet hung from the fourth, and I remember that I asked Adviser Sari whether we were going to have a sailing adventure. I think that he laughed at me when I suggested it.

Most members of the audience looked over forty, so when the two of us walked up the bleachers, heads turned. I don’t know how much he frequents these places, but I wonder how long people have stared at him for entering places because he looks so young. We sat among a large crowd of people who had brought their own čukùsë petals and alcohol; he expressed obvious distaste for it, but there was no other place in the auditorium with as good a view. Shortly before the performance started, another man came to join us. This is Mainë—

Karatau Meiyenesi, if you prefer. It’s nice to finally meet you … Salus Niksubvya, is it? Like most people up north, he tripped over my last name because the consonant cluster was too large.

How do you know who I am?

Friend of a friend, he replied.

I couldn’t ask him more because the show started with a flash of fire from the stage. It startled Karatau Meiyenesi more than me; he fell backwards into the seat beside me and smiled foppishly at me as he righted himself. LEDs strobed into being wrapped in coils around spinning dancers on the stage, and a single man in the center somersaulted through jets of flame. The music was so overwhelming that I had to cover my ears and the lights just kept moving, moving, and the building shook from the stereo system and the temperature kept rising and rising …

We emerged from the building soaked in sweat several hours later. Steam came off of my clothing into the glittering Galasu night. Karatau Meiyenesi offered to walk me home—with Adviser Sari’s blessing, though, so I don’t know how much I should trust this new gentleman.

We stopped at one of the late-night eateries and ordered chunks of frozen fruit juice to eat with our fingers. He knew my favorite flavor, and when we left with the recyclable cups he didn’t suggest that we go home at first. The ease with which we talked to each other made me think of my relationship with Kelis. I miss her so much.

Only after we were flooded with light by my front door did I see that he had deep red eyes.