Page 24 of Perfection

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it. I assure you,” she said.

York was more than tired as she dragged him down a long corridor to a circular doorway that spun open as they approached. Why couldn’t she let him be? He wanted to retreat, focus on the work at hand, and backtrack before she pinned him with her inviting smile and fed him her religion. There was no unity for Coders, no connection and peace. It was that simple. The lifestyles and beliefs didn’t mix.

The door eased shut as soon as they passed through it. The empty unity room should have echoed, but it didn’t. He turned around completely, noting the circular walls, seamless except for the entrance, and even that blended in. It was a glass bubble, he realized. He looked up to find a view of the night sky outside.

“Sit,” she ordered, assuming a cross-legged position on the lightly padded floor.

“Youarecrazy. This isn’t going to work. I’m not like you. I don’t believe in another place.”

She stopped short. The horrified look in her eyes forced him to sit facing her.

“All right,” he said on a sigh. “Ten minutes. I’ll humor you for ten minutes.”

This time her blue eyes sparkled. “I’ll take it.”

“Don’t turn me into a damned project.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She almost smiled as she wiggled to find a comfortable position.

The response of his body to her little movement and the tight fit of her shirt over perfectly round breasts gave him more reason to stay put.

“Nine, the ocean, please.” Immediately, the swooshing sound of waves gently lapping an invisible shore washed over them. She rolled her shoulders up and then back in a circular motion. The lighting dimmed. “Relax,” she crooned.

“After a day like today?”

“York…” She said his name slowly. “I don’t think I know anyone else with that name.”

“It’s a Coder name. I was named after New York. Supposedly, I have a famous ancestor from there.” He mimicked her actions and rolled his shoulders. “But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about ancestors.”

“That’s a misconception about genetic engineering.”

“Not what I’ve heard.” He stretched out the tense muscles in his neck.

“The lineage of the core embryos used in each Generation can be traced back to their parents. Modifications are done from the core embryo. HERO maintains very detailed genetic logs.”

“Huh,” he grunted. “Learn something new every day.” He leaned forward. “Now, enough with the chitchat.”

She nodded, then exhaled a long breath. “First, begin with meditation. Like yoga. You know that, don’t you?”

“Affirmative.” Somewhat.

“Take deep, even breaths. Slowlyin…Slowlyout…”

He duplicated her every move. She shut her eyes, and he closed his, too, although he fully intended to peek.

“Allow your body to relax completely. Sink more deeply into that relaxation on every exhale.”

He liked the clear sound of her voice, absent of harshness and judgment. His senses awakened gradually, aware of the sweet scent of flowers—the smell of Kindra, no doubt. Bit by bit, his hurried pulse and muddled nerves began to still, like water smoothing when the rippling action of a tossed pebble circled out and dissipated.

“When you experience the calm, embrace the energy all around you.” Her voice was a feathery whisper. “Every atom and molecule holds energy. The light holds energy. Let it bathe you. The air holds energy. Let it lift you up.”

Was she humming?

“Think of floating. You are light. Feel the peace. The joy. The universe is one continuous stream of energy.”

York tried to do what she asked. His thoughts bounced around. He breathed deeply, noticing Kindra’s flowery scent, very different from his own. So much had happened in such a short span of time. The craziness of dealing with his mother caused his neck muscles to tense, the despair of Isabelle’s death twisted his gut, the excitement of breaking the rules at the morgue with Kindra as his reluctant, but fully engaged co-conspirator made his pulse escalate.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” Kindra reminded him.