010 – Doctors, Assistants, and Wanderers

In the two and a half days spent waiting for Dr Smart's return, Zee had finely delineated the professor's schedule using the campus website. Zee had it planned out by the following morning. The day began as usual, but in place of the pink-yellow sunshine, there were tremulous silvery clouds about to burst, and the atmosphere was sultry and dense. Ro felt it close against her skin. It brought her shivers and made her recall, against her will, the fleeting days of youth spent in rainy Oregon. The clouds of Ohio hung strong and intensely, waiting for the right moment before opening their gates and allowing heaven to fall.

On the drive to campus, Zee explained, for the seventh time, what they would be doing when they met Dr Smart. 'If he dislikes us and wants to turn us over to the feds,' he started, hands holding tightly to the steering wheel, 'then we'll flee.'

Ro snickered and folded her arms, face turned to the rolled-down window. 'Flee like we've never fled before!'

Zee gave her a look, suggesting the moment was not appropriate for comedy. But he touched her knee reassuringly, all the same— His hand jerked away as Ro's knee twitched. Sorry, he wanted to say—but the word wouldn't come. It was stuck somewhere between one of his three processors, immobile, useless. Sorry, sorry, sorry.

'Anyway,' Ro tugged at the hem of her shorts, trying to get rid of the tingling trail of Zee's fingertips momentarily embedded into her pores, 'what happens if he doesn't turn us over to the feds?'

'Then we'll find out about Eli Selig.' He tightened his fingers over the wheel, compelled by the apprehension that they were about to meet someone who'd known Selig—Selig as himself as well as a scientist. Someone who may know what Selig thought of his last completed Infiltration Unit.

Ro hinged her neck back to the fresh air of the window, the car halting at a traffic light. Next to her was the county library branch for Yellow Springs, with old houses to her left, all unique and of architectural interest. So many houses she'd seen in suburbs were now all the same, identical down to the landscaping. She liked Yellow Springs for maintaining its magical small-town feel, for daring to be different. There were a hundred little things that made Ro believe they'd found the one place that might accept them, as renegades, heroes, revolutionaries. Funny to find it in an Ohio town that was nothing much at all. It was compelling, beyond all of Ro's wisdom, to compare the style of the village to what she knew of Selig. He was similar to them, Zee and her, in a lot of ways—a revolutionary at least—a man of unparalleled vision.

The campus was active that day, with more cars in the visitor parking section. Feeling like seasoned veterans to the school, they made their way, taking a shorter route past the administration building, into the science building, and up to the third story. If Zee's calculations of Dr Smart's schedule were correct, the professor would be sitting at his desk.

Zee opened the door for himself and Ro, already looking up to the right desk—he filed past two exiting students—Ro shimmying out of their way—and finally got a look at the lamp, the chair—a bushy head of curly grey-black hair. Zee halted, obtruding Ro's path. She bumped into him and, apprehensive, grabbed his hand in hers. He squeezed till she squeezed in return. 'Go on,' she whispered. 'Talk to him.' She gave Zee a shove against the small of his back, and he stumbled forward. His steps were noisy enough to gather Dr Smart's attention away from the computer monitor—

Dr Smart sprang from his seat, stare openly targeting Zee.

Zee stared right back. Ro glanced between the two men, wishing one of them would say something before she did.

Dr Smart's whitened eyebrows bunched in the middle, and he ripped off his glasses in one dramatic sweep of a still-sinewy arm. Ro bit her lips, fixing Sam Smart's features with the unknown face in the holographic image Zee had stolen the day they met. Short, stocky, hairy, with little neck but a thick middle, salt-and-pepper curls winding all the way around his head, and watery blue-green eyes—Ro knew it was one of the additional Zeta Project scientists. One that they hadn't ever bothered to learn the name of. Ro glanced conscientiously at the name plate on the professor's desk. Dr Samuel Smart. In scanning him again, Ro befit the name with the man. It was nice to have a name to go with the face.

His shoulders pulled upright, Zee held himself tall, proud, trying to show no shame for who he was, what he was doing. It took audacity, courage, and a touch of stupidity to do what he was doing. 'Dr Smart? Samuel Smart?'

Ro's stomach rolled in nerves, waiting for the professor's response. She felt giddy when he spoke, at last, a great sentence of unimagined profundity.

'Mr Smith,' Smart stuck out his hand for Zee to shake, 'I've been waiting for you—such a very long time.'

Zee, cautious, aware, held Smart's hand briefly. 'Waiting—' he put on a speculative face, 'for me?'

'And Ro.' Smart turned to the blonde and shook her hand briefly as well, her fingers limp with worry and shock. 'It's nice to finally meet both of you. I'd invite you to sit down, but I was just about to take my lunch break. Care to join me? It won't be anything fancy, just a bite or two of my wife's egg salad down in the teacher's lounge.' He glanced between them. 'It'll give us a chance to talk—without being overheard.'

The lounge was empty, stuffed with old sofas and chairs and a skinned, nicked dinning room table. Smart prepared his meal, taking it from the refrigerator, along with a diet cola, and sat himself down. Zee and Ro hovered in the background, fearful—and he couldn't blame them.

'Is it any use to ask you two to sit down?'

Ro's mouth twitched at Zee, a sign of complacency. Zee sat across from Sam Smart, Ro on Zee's left. The clock above the hand washing sink ticked optimistically, while the whirl of the refrigerator brought restful white noise to the silent brick room. Smart smeared egg salad on toasted bread of some weird, unusual texture.

He noticed Ro looking at it peculiarly and explained. 'It's gluten-free bread. I'm allergic to wheat products. Bit annoying, really. I'm also getting diabetic in my old age. Are you thirsty? There's plenty of soda—I'm sure—'

'I'm fine,' Ro said.

Smart was eyeing Zee. 'And you don't eat.'

'Not today,' Zee said, almost as though it was a threat. It brought a chuckle of friendly warmth from Dr Smart. 'How did you recognise us?'

'For the same reason you're here,' Smart said, chewing, then swallowing. 'I am Eli's oldest known friend. I wondered exactly how long it would take for you to find me. How long has it been? Two years? Almost two and a half? Not bad. Not bad at all. Naturally, you wouldn't be here if Selig were alive. I'd be useless to you after him.'

The tingling in her palms spoke of a massive truth exploding over them. 'So—Selig is really dead?'

'No idea,' Sam Smart shook his head as he answered. 'No idea at all. But that doesn't mean I didn't know about you. I knew.'

'You were on the same team that created me,' Zee averred.

'Only for two weeks. I was his assistant. He wanted to do something else to you, something that wasn't supposed to be done—and I covered for him while he worked it out.'

'The chip—' Zee could hardly get the words out; once again, words were pathetic and pictures of the past wanted to speak for him. 'The chip inside my head. You know about it.'

Tense silence followed. The clock ticked. The refrigerator whirred.

Smart pushed the sandwich away, suddenly having no appetite. He'd been preparing for this day for two years, Selig had warned him all that time ago, but now that it was upon him, it seemed impossible to believe. Nevertheless, he had an obligation to fulfil. Lifted from the chair, he gave the two of them a gesture to stay put.

'I'll be right back.' He paused at Ro's worried look to Zee. 'I wouldn't dream of calling the NSA on you. I'll explain why as soon as I come back.'

As soon as he'd gone, Ro's hand dived for Zee's. He held to her firmly.

'My hands are sweaty,' she said.

He turned her palm over and examined it, seeing the speckles of released water sparkling on the surface. 'I wouldn't know.'

'What do you think of him?'

Once his fingers were laced between hers, he answered quietly. 'I'm glad we came.'

It wasn't much of a response, not the kind Ro had been hoping for, but Smart returned then to the lounge, carrying a manila envelope bulging at all sides, grossly thrown from its proportions, and much worn at the seams. Smart reclaimed his seat and set the envelope in the centre of the table between them.

'Take it,' Smart said. 'It's yours, Zeta. Or is it true that you prefer Zee?'

Zee threw his eyes upon Smart, his head tilted over as he controlled the angle of the envelope towards him. He didn't answer.

'I'd like you to call me Sam. Most people do. Even my students. I'm the old nutty professor around here—and I kind of like it that way. Been teaching here since the late twenties. Sixteen years. Only leave came when I went to help our mutual friend. Now I kind of wish I hadn't. But you can't say no to old friends, can you?'

Zee pulled the object from the envelope and laid it on the battered paper. It was small, predominately titanium, with green chips and beige nanowafers below the top disk. In a runnel along the top disk were a hundred or more metal blades that Ro supposed must be some sort of fanning device. She bent nearer to it but saw nothing familiar in its shape. But there was no mistaking that it was a piece of hardware, and probably worth more than the whole town.

'What is it?' Ro watched Zee's eyes intensify, his hand against the mechanism. He looked at it the way he'd lately been looking at her, with a diffident sort of affection, a fearful rustle of love.

His hand dropped. 'It's an holographic emitter.'

'That thing—?' Ro couldn't believe it. 'But it's so—awkward-looking. Looks more like something that'd be in our car's engine.'

Smart chortled in that warm way of his that trickled down her throat like a hot drink. He was in the chair, still, amused, with his hands clasped behind his head. 'You're used to seeing the little portable things that are so bountiful these days, Ro. Do you mind if I call you Ro? Oh, good. Well, this is the same premise, but on a much bigger scale.' He could tell she didn't exactly follow, and it felt good to prattle, alleviating the tension, stalling the story. 'Well, it's sort of like having a chocolate cake for dessert, isn't it? But instead of having just a tiny sliver of the cake, you're getting the entire cake.'

Ro blinked, finally ripping her gawk from Dr Smart. The holographic emitter, at least seven inches long and with a circumference just greater than the length, was an intimidating piece of hardware. She'd never known Zee had anything like that inside of him. Something so ugly created a beautiful image that glowed in almost unearthly light. She suddenly grasped what Dr Smart had brought out in an analogy. 'This is an industrial strength holographic emitter.'

'Yes,' nodded Smart. 'Very industrial. And extremely strong.'

Zee set his hand on it again, unable to imagine it was his. 'How powerful is it?'

Smart continued his casual manner. Ro almost believed it was genuine. He was a strange man wanting aloof emotions but unable to obtain it completely. 'Its base solidity is probably no greater than the one you have now. I'm unsure of its specs, of course, but once you have it installed, no doubt you'll learn all about it.'

In a struggle between affinity and uncertainty, Zee rose his gaze to Dr Smart and held it fiercely. 'Greater than the one I have now? Base solidity I'm not concerned about. But I would like better attribution software.'

'Of course you would. I think you'll find it to your liking.'

'And now here comes the part where you tell us how you got it,' Ro started. This friendliness grated on her nerves. 'People don't just have industrial strength holographic emitters laying about their living rooms collecting dust.'

Sam Smart thought her amusing, a real wit, but it was hardly the time to say so. Instead, he took a turn about the lounge and stopped in front of the window. He watched the lambent maples swaying in the wind, remembering the ocean waves rocking back and forth as he was piloted to Knossos a little over three years ago. He sighed and angled towards them slightly, just enough to give the impression that what he said was in confidence, only for them.

'You never came back, Zeta,' Smart began, voice that of a lamenting man, 'after your last infiltration—you never came back. That holographic emitter was to have been yours. It was supposed to be installed when you returned from the infiltration of Eugene Dolan. But that's when it all started—isn't it? Every tale has a beginning, I suppose. And you most of all . . . Myths often do.'

Myths. Zee hadn't thought about it for a long time, that he was a myth—a hero created from the demise of good and the rise of evil in the world. And he hadn't thought, for an even longer time, of the one strange being that had helped shape and define his destiny. The man he'd met months and months before Ro stumbled into his life.

Smart continued his indifferent stare on the trees. 'You only know him as Dr Eli Selig. Funny to think of him that way, now that he's old and dead and gone, a remarkable being of the past. Because I knew him only as Iggy, really. That's what we called him, me and the others we knew at school. Iggy, as I knew him, when we were kids, had this incorruptible fascination with heroes, you see. All he could think about was finding a way to create the perfect hero. That's how we got into robotics. We used to put together remote controlled robots from spare parts we found at yard sales and antique stores. Great mind, Iggy had. Seemed to think that the only way to create a hero was to make one. When he was in his thirties, oh—about thirty-six, I'd say—he fell in with the government, pitching ideas to the Armed Forces, to the Department of Defence. But war heroes weren't being created at the time. Back then, it seemed the race for space had been curiously ignited, after being all but extinguished for a good twenty, thirty years. Iggy had no place for his metallic myths.'

Sam Smart paused long enough to reclaim his chair, sitting in it backwards, with his forearms against its back. Still focused solely on the images of the past, he barely noticed the two-member audience.

'But Iggy was convinced that he could do it right, if he obtained the proper financial backing. And who better to do that than the government? It was all taxpayers' money, anyway, or borrowed from another country. Iggy didn't care where the money came from, how it was acquired, so long as he was given a savvy lab and some loyal workers at his side. He finally got it—and I didn't see him again for many years. He came to me one day, both of us old men with our best years behind us. He wanted my help with something. I said I wasn't qualified to work next to him. Naturally, he told me that was rubbish, stroked my ego a bit, till I gave in. Gave the wife a peck on the cheek, gave my son and daughter a hug, said I'd be back in a couple of weeks, then I stormed off to Never-never Land, like Peter Pan, into Iggy's world. A marvellous world. And you were there,' he finally regarded Zeta, as though seeing him for the first time, 'different than you are now. Metal and microchips, wires and weapons. You were supposed to be Iggy's fundamental dream of a hero brought to life. Pygmalion with his sculpture of Galatea.

'And, though it seems unbelievable now—I would never have admitted it two years ago, but my life is shortened by the keeping of secrets—Iggy told me what he planned to do. He was always ready and willing to bend the rules a little. He told me about the microchip. Is it still in your head?'

Zee nodded slowly.

'Ah,' Sam Smart acknowledged this with a drop of his eyes, 'thought it might be. I tried to tell him it was treason, going against the principles of the government, but he believed in the truth as he saw it. He knew you could be whomever you wanted to be. And it was just a matter of finding a way to bring you from your coma, to shock you out of the programming. I didn't think it would work—and I was terrified. But intrigued. Very, very intrigued. I had to stick around—just to see how it ended.

'Not that I was surprised about the Brother's Day attack in August. He'd phoned me before that, just a little bit before, and told me his assistant Donoso was raving on about security breaches and the imminence of a terrorist group doing something dreadful. Suppose he should've listened to her for once. He never did listen to her much. He'd only built and programmed Donoso to be his walking, talking date book, his personal organiser that ran his life because he was too involved in his work to notice that he had a life. I've no doubt Donoso was a part of his everyday existence, and she helped him in many ways—but he would've done better to listen to her once in a while. He never did,' Smart repeated this solemnly, 'never did—not when she was talking to him about her own independent thoughts. She wasn't his hero, you see. I think that's why he—I don't know—couldn't be bothered.'

Sam indicated the holographic emitter on the table. 'She sent me that. Two weeks after Knossos, that shows up on my desk, sent parcel post from Cupertino, California—no return address, just a postmark. I open it and that's what was inside. Oh, I know what you're thinking: How did I know it was sent to me by Andrea Donoso? She contacted me later, wanted me to know that she was continuing with Dr Selig's work as best she could, when her diligence was not obstructed by the NSA. So one can suppose that she means to continue working on synthoids, the way Iggy did. One can also suppose that she means to find a way for you to be free, Zeta—if she can manage it.'

His head hanging in thought, Zee remained pensive. The story was raw and real, and painted the picture of a Selig Zee hadn't the chance to know. An absent-minded man who fantasised about creating the perfect hero but paid no attention to death threats and terrorists, almost to the point of fully embracing his own mortality.

An unsettled Ro crossed her arms, managing to get words out through clenched teeth. 'Told you that, did she? That she'd work on getting Zee's freedom?

A heady silenced pierced the air after she'd closed her mouth. Rubbing a spot below his lip, Dr Smart eyed her in a vacant, nonsensical manner, weighing and measuring the accuracy of this question, whether or not she meant it to have an answer. But it was not Dr Smart that spoke next; it was Zee.

'You have a way,' the synthoid began, feeling more and more robotic as the conversation continued, 'of communicating with Andrea Donoso?'

Smart approved of this question. 'She is in contact with me, yes. I cannot contact her, but she can contact me. It was done because she believed you would find me. Her intuition into your future movements across this country is more accurate than the National Security Agency—at present.'

The possibility of speaking with Andrea Donoso excited Ro. A quiver beneath her sternum stirred in wonder. 'When was the last time you were contacted by her?'

'A month ago.'

The response came from him in quiet monotone. Ro wondered if he was afraid to speak of her, that someone might overhear—that Andrea Donoso herself feared for Dr Smart's speaking of her. Anticipating more from him, Ro waited, and was rewarded.

'She wished for me tell you two something.'

Even Zee's gaze lifted, startled by the implications of such a sentence. Ro, however, wasn't prepared; she wavered a bit when he spoke.

'Stay here—stay here and she'll be in touch. She swears it to you. But you have to stay here. There'd be no other way to guarantee finding you, if you're wandering around the country again. To stay here, I realise the risks involved. But I wouldn't ask if you if I thought it wasn't worth it. Neither would Andrea Donoso. We wouldn't ask you to do this if we thought you might be captured. At the very least—consider it. If you come up with a decision by this evening, you may tell me then. Otherwise, I will wait.'

Ro and Zee couldn't help but look at each other. The young woman tried desperately to calculate Zee's thoughts, but it was impossible: he was impassive and hidden. Ro exuded the same amount of worry as usual, and she tucked her hands between her knees to keep Zee from noticing how they trembled.

Zee rose an eyebrow at Dr Smart. 'This evening?'

'Forgot to mention that, didn't I? So sorry,' he shook his head, with a sad smirk, 'I seem to have a lot on my mind. You're invited to dinner at my house tonight. Since I've come back from my trip it'll be something of a grand event. My son and daughter and their significant others will be there, and I'm sure they and my wife would love to meet you.'

Ro shoved her knees together, the muscles in her legs contracting and expanding as adrenaline poured through her veins. 'Dinner? At your house?'

'Yes,' Smart nodded to indicate the honesty of this request. 'Just a humble, modest little meal, that's all. Good for you, Miss Rowen, since I'm sure you survive on takeaway and candy bars. Shall we say six-thirty? We usually eat around seven, and the extra half-hour will give you time to become acquainted with my family. Very casual,' he stated again, since Ro appeared apprehensive and fearful, 'and it'd be nice for you two to know someone in town—if you choose to stay. Six-thirty, then?'

Dumbly, Ro nodded, glad to see, out the corner of her eye, that speechlessness had a hold on Zee, too.

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