Maya: Final Transition
“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”
Jack stood, staring as Anne walked away, crying, knowing that she overheard Arcangela, and all that meant. Jack knew he couldn’t follow, that it would never work for Anne, he knew her world model was much different than his.
As she walked home, Anne’s mind was a swirl of faceted memories, recent memories of the perfect last year with Jack, her research for the perfect DNA, her laser-focused college years, then awarded a research position at Max Planck Unit for the Science of Pathogens where she began studying in detail the research methodology of Emmanuelle Marie Charpentier, then meeting Arcangela at the CRISPR conference, being offered her own research program. It all happened so quickly. Her thoughts bounced between these recent years, and then her childhood, cuddling with her mom on the sofa listening to mesmerizing stories of Brittany, her great grandparents, her mom asking “I wonder what your contribution to the world will be?” with such confidence as if it were already ordained, that it would be.
Love is so painful. Anne felt every particle in her body miss Jack, knowing that loss was forever.
As Anne walked into her apartment her Mesh contracted (for those still in the past reading this, when the Mesh contracted it meant someone was calling) said, “Yes,” and looked to see Jack’s image projected in front of her, “Jack.”
Jack said, “I take it you overheard dad. I tried to explain The Family.
Anne replied, “Jack, I have my research. I’m closing in on the perfect DNA sequence.”
From deep in his hurt emotions, not knowing what he was saying, Jack responded “That’s right, Anne Eth Janes, DNA Research Scientist, and soon to be architect of perfecting humanity.”
Hearing his words, from where they came he knew not, only wishing he could pull them back, Jack felt a lump grow in his throat. At the instant those words were said, he knew they were the wrong words as he looked to the ground, feeling a tear in his eye.
Anne’s breath was completely pulled out of her. For a split second, she wondered where all the oxygen went. She didn’t know how to respond in that instant.
All each heard and saw in the projected image of the other was frozen silence.
“I have to go,” said Anne, pushing the “close” button image on her Mesh, which shut down the transmission.
Anne stood there, thinking to herself, “That was the core of Jack. I can’t believe it. We could have at least been close friends, but not now. Not now, knowing this. He is dangerous when pushed outside of his comfort zone. He is his father's son.”
And then she felt sad, a crying sad as if someone had died. She knew she needed to mourn, and quickly so that she could focus all her energy on her research.
Jack stood, frozen, realizing that in the instant Anne said she had to go, he lost her forever, that if he ever did see her again in the coffee shop or on the street, their conversation, if anything, would be formal if all. Jack knew he would run into Anne again, after all, she worked for his father. He shook his head from left to right and continued his walk home, remembering the weekend evenings with friends, Anne, and the fire pit. He’d have to say something when his friends asked where Anne was.
Saturday was rainy. Anne forced herself to stay home and focus on realizing the idea of her Jack was dead. She lost respect for him. Anne cried, tried to read a book, unsuccessfully as her thoughts, memories, swirled around the past perfect year, and the exclamation point ending last night. That Saturday evening Anne opened a rare bottle of wine, poured herself a glass, held it out in front of herself, and said, “To learning. A new and better future.” As she sipped the glass of Merlot, she thought, “Time and distance, time and distance...”
Sunday brought sunlight. Anne woke up feeling refreshed, empty yet excited to throw herself into her research to fill the void with fresh, better, meaningful work, her contribution to the world, as her mother would say. Anne proceeded across that Sunday with a sense of excitement for Monday, with only an occasional memory from the past year, quickly pushed aside with the thought of how she would design a faster system to determine what might cause that specific DNA strand needed to create that woman she saw at Jack’s. And in so finding that strand, would it indeed be a piece of the perfect DNA search? Anne thought that finding that impossible strand might somehow be the key to the perfect DNA.
Little did she know the path she had set herself on.
Monday morning brought the mist.
Jack woke up early and headed to open the coffee shop, as he always did, wondering after not seeing Anne at the coffee shop Saturday and Sunday, if she would drop in for her latte on her way to work. He felt a little nervous but less so than Saturday and Sunday.
Anne woke up to the mist, excited to get to her lab to start running the models of elements that might affect DNA, to record the cause and affect. This would be a short study as there were only so many elements that could effect change, it was a limited set, or so she thought. She ran through her morning routine, then hurried out the front door, feeling really good about the day.
As Anne walked down the misty gray street, she thought, “Well, I’ll run into Jack at some point, so why not get it over with. The awkwardness will only subside with time and distance, so might as well start now. I really like his lattes. Yes, let’s get that coffee and get to work. There is so much to do.”
Before she knew it Anne was walking into Jack’s, her eyes tightened as she stared coldly at the man behind the counter.
Jack looked up, remembering their Friday evening conversation, seeing Anne’s eyes tighten, knowing there was no going back, forced a smile, knowing he would keep his discourse to “Same, double coconut milk latte?” It was safer that way.
Anne walked out, across the front door threshold to Jack’s, coffee in hand, to what was a gray mist now with yellow-white steaks of sun crackling through, knowing that her double coconut milk latte made the start to the day. “Time and distance, time and distance,” she thought. Then her thoughts turned to elements and strands of DNA.
No part of this story may be transmitted or reproduced by any means or in any form, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying or recording by any information storage or retrieval system, without the author’s written permission.
This story is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, and incidents that bear any resemblance to actual people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
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