Planet Earth 2.0, Merit Society
One Year Earlier
Angela Williams
System Maintenance Building,
"Man, I hate to see you leave but I love to watch you go, Mrs. Williams."
"Ms. Williams. You know I plan on divorcing Greg."
"But you're still hanging on to the last name, huh?"
"It's been hard trying to convince a man with a bad temper to sign divorce papers."
"You still got the gun?"
"Yeah. Patty 'n I keep it on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. It's the only effort we put into decorating the place."
"Guns aren't meant to be decor pieces."
"If you're lucky, they are. See ya later, Dempson."
"You know you can always stay for a minute or two. I can tell you a little bit more about how the System works. I know you got a thing for classified information."
"And you've got a thing for making me stick around long enough to try your luck. Later, Dempson."
"Later, Mrs. Williams."
Angela shouldered her purse and waved over her shoulder at the System Maintenance worker. She slid the door closed between them, took the long elevator trip to the bottom floor, and leaned against the wall outside with a heavy sigh. The sun shone brightly on the Town of New New New York and she tilted her head into the light. A man passed by her and bid her good morning and she responded with enthusiasm. She was in no way attracted to Maintenance worker Dany Dempson, but his compliments sure did make her feel special. She began the long walk back to the apartment, whistling all the while. She glanced at her Device, which still read Upstanding, and decided to treat herself to a Mango Coke from a nearby store. The clerk inside took one look at her Device and slid her an extra bottle, which she placed delicately in her purse. She said her thanks and walked back outside into the sunlight. Her phone rang and she answered it quickly, delighted by the name that flashed across her screen.
"Ma," she said happily, "You'll never guess what-"
"Have you seen the news?" Came her mother's solemn response.
"What? No. I-"
"Take a look,"
The line clicked and the phone went silent. Angela raised her head and glanced at the screens plastered across the towering buildings of New New New York.
Her phone slipped out of her hands and clattered onto the ground. The image of Donald Lee flashed across every screen, his babyface pale and eyes wide with shock. 'Man Accused in the Murder of Barroom Patron,' read the yellow banner. A hard lump formed in her throat and she spun around, her eyes roving across another screen proclaiming, 'Classification: Neutral - Indirect Cause of Death of Classification: Upstanding.' Donald Lee was surrounded by a bunch of microphones on screen. His mouth moved soundlessly and he lurched forward before being pulled back by a gang of officers.
Angela began to quiver. She rushed to a nearby trashcan and vomited multiple times into the bin. She gasped and raised her head before her body was wracked by sickening spasms that forced her to wrap her arms around her suddenly sick stomach. A young woman stopped and stared at her in surprise.
"This is XYZ News," came a faint female voice across a hundred speakers rigged around the city, "today we review the case of one barroom brawl gone terribly wrong. In a small bar on the outskirts of town, suspect Donald Lee got into an argument with Jarred Penniman over what he claimed was an 'unfair bias' of the System. The patron, Jarred Penniman, was disgusted by these claims and the two men got into a verbal altercation. Witnesses say that Lee pushed Penniman, and Penniman fell to the concrete, sustaining fatal injuries to his head. Penniman died at the scene. Lee is set to stand trial next week."
Angela moaned in distress and held her head. Her heart was beating faster than she could have ever thought possible. The world around her swam in a nauseating blur and she felt someone put their hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it away and began to run as fast as her heels could carry her. Once back at her apartment she simply stood with her shaking hand on the doorknob. She breathed in deep and exhaled before pushing the door open slowly. She was greeted by the sound of a shower running and Patty's voice wafting from the bathroom. She walked through the apartment as if in a dream, her mind cluttered with 'what if's and 'what about's. She stopped before the gun framed above the mantelpiece and put her hand on the glass.
Lee is set to stand trial next week. Penniman fell to the concrete, sustaining fatal injuries to his head. Penniman died at the scene...Penniman died at the scene.
That's what the newswoman had said. Angela slammed her fist against the glass and retrieved the gun. It was heavy and cold in her hands, an unfamiliar threat that made her anxious. Guns could solve problems if the wielder knew what they were doing.
But Angela wasn't sure what, exactly, she should do. But she had to do something.
"Hey!"
The suddenness of the voice above her made her scream. She jumped and Patty quickly withdrew her hand. "Sorry, hun," she said, her eyebrows creasing over her clear, brown eyes. "I've been calling you. Didn't hear me?"
"N-no," Angela said, quickly averting her watering eyes. Patty hummed and sat back on their couch, her long legs stretched out above the carpet. She was still wrapped in a towel and dripping water onto the cushions, something that would have driven Angela crazy if she had been in a different state of mind.
"Anyway, I was saying. I was wondering, do you think you can help me pin up my hair for tonight? I just have this weird gut feeling that I'll meet the man of dreams. He'll be tall and handsome and brooding and...he'll probably be sitting in a corner smoking a cigarette, looking all...distracted. Isn't that what all the bad boys do? Huh? Angie?"
"You always go for the bad boys," Angela whispered. She squeezed her eyes closed and inhaled shakily, twisting her head to the side. "and then you wonder why they treat you so badly." She couldn't help it anymore. She threw her hands over her face and began to sob into her fingers. Patty stared at her in shock before jumping off of the couch and running to her side.
"There, there, hun," she said, wrapping her arms around her, "Gosh, I didn't know my tragic tales of romance made you that unhappy...but that's not it, is it? What's wrong?
"It's the System," she stuttered. "The stupid, fucking System!"
"Oh," Patty gave a long sigh and ran her fingers over her roommate's forehead. "What did it do now?"
Angela tucked her lips in. She wasn't sure why she was refraining from telling Patricia the truth. And then she realized - she was ashamed. Horribly, and terribly ashamed of the events unfolding around her. She shook her head and wiped the last of her tears away from her face. That's enough, she thought as she pushed herself up off the floor. Patty rose with her, eyeing her with concern. Now's not the time to bawl my eyes out like some pathetic little kid. She cleared her throat and brushed her wrinkles from her shirt. But what to do?
"You're not gonna tell me?" Patty said. It was less a question and more of a defeated affirmation.
"It's nothing. I'm just...tired and overworked. And, gosh, I haven't had a drink in so long." For no particular reason, her eyes were drawn to the empty frame hanging above the fireplace.
"We still have that whiskey. We can go to the rooftop and-"
"Patty, no," she said gently, prodding her friend towards her bedroom door. "Besides, don't you have a show to put on?"
"Life is but a show with not enough bad boys and too many lonely nights," Patty said dreamily. She stopped suddenly and put her hand on the door. "Thing is...if you're upset over the System just remember: it's rigged. Which means you can rig it right back. Roommates first?"
"Roommates first," Angela said, locking her pinky with Patty's.
"What's mine is yours, hun. Ah, la vie, la vie," Patty sang as she swayed into her room and closed the door.
Angela watched her go. Then, her eyes fell upon a small basket on the side table: the Burn Pile, as they liked to call it. It was simply a collection of their most important paperwork: social security cards, birth certificates, medical records. She stared at the pile for a moment before gently pushing her own paperwork aside. Every single record detailing the entirety of Patty's existence was laid out before her: records that could unlock more records. Records detailing a spotless past.
A clean slate.
What if...she thought. She quickly pocketed every file that she could get her hands on. Then, she retrieved the gun from her pocket. Such an odd thing! She wondered if it even worked. She pointed it at a lamp across the room and imagined taking the shot. Once, long ago, someone had told her that aiming a gun worked on the same intuition as pointing a finger. You just...did it.
She placed the gun in her pocket. In the frenzied recesses of her mind, she knew exactly what she would have to do with it. The thought caused her discomfort at first but it had to be done. If she didn't go through with it, and all went downhill for Donald Lee, she would rather take her own life than forgive herself.
She made a move towards the door but, on second thought, retrieved the bottle of whiskey out of the fridge. Its textured glass reflected the unbuttoning of her collar and her blank expression. She ran her hand through her pale, blonde hair and smiled weakly back at herself. Before she left, she painted her lips a violent, bloody red.
The irony did not escape her.
X
It had been a long day for Dany Dempson. He rolled back a few inches in his chair and yawned gratefully. He had been performing Patchwork repairs for the town of New New New York all day and his hand ached relentlessly from all of the writing that he had done in the Records. It was grueling work, sure, but it helped him to maintain a Good Classification. It would have been Upstanding, he was sure, if it wasn't for all the nagging and broken promises in his married life.
None of which was his fault, of course.
The thought of going home to his wife made him groan. He'd have to stop by the bar on the way home. And maybe, maybe if he disabled his Device he could have a good time with the pretty little senorita who worked the dishes at the Shimmy Shack.
He shrugged on his large overcoat and tried to imagine what such a night would look like. But all his mind could come back to was Mrs - no, Ms. Williams with her long blonde hair, her pretty lips, her pale legs.
"You're staring at my legs, Dempson."
Dany's heart almost leaped out of his throat. He hadn't been imagining things after all! For there, standing tall and proud in the dim light of the hallway was Angela Williams herself. In one hand she held a bottle of whiskey, in the other, she clutched two shot glasses between her gloved fingers.
Pink like candy, he thought to himself. He didn't even notice the vacant, even haunted look in her eyes. He was too busy rolling his tongue around his teeth and thanking every single deity that he knew for his luck.
"Came back for a little party?" He said, forcing himself to look back up into her crystal blue eyes. She swayed towards him and placed the glasses down on the table. As she bent beside him, he caught a whiff of cotton candy perfume. Man, he thought as his eyes trailed her curved figure, this girl is scrumptious. She looked back at him suddenly.
"Like you said, I have a thing for classified information," she said in a low voice. She straightened back up and absentmindedly adjusted her blouse.
"Oh, that's what you want," Dempson said in mock disappointment.
"For now," she said simply. She poured him a shot of whiskey. "Drink."
He shook his head and instead grabbed the entire bottle. He took a long swig before setting it down loudly on the table. Emboldened by the fire in his throat, he reached out and pulled her onto his lap. Her face quickly twisted in disgust but he was too enamored by the moment to notice.
"Does anyone know you're here?" He asked, leaning in to smell her perfume. She pulled away slightly and shook her head.
"Came through the back. You know those cameras don't work."
"Good," he said. He slid his hand in hers, "let's start by removing those pretty little gloves. What'd ya say, darlin'?"
"What? No!" she said, pulling her hand away. "I mean - let's play a game."
"Yeah? I like games. What's this one called?" He took another swig from the bottle and clumsily attempted to set it back straight on the table.
"It's called a Favor for a Favor. You grant me a favor, and I'll grant you one in return. Deal?"
"Deal! Ladies first."
"Alright. I want you to tell me every little thing about System Maintenance. Don't leave anything out."
Dany suddenly frowned and cast her a suspicious look. For the first time, he noticed that her expression didn't match her demeanor. He leaned back, intentionally putting space between her body and his.
"Now, Mrs. Williams..."
"Please, call me Angela."
"Mrs. Williams, that's simply asking too much! Besides, I really shouldn't be drinking on the job."
"No, you shouldn't," Angela said. She stood up abruptly and adjusted her skirt so that it was covering her knees. As she spoke her voice got higher, and angrier until he was quite taken aback by the change that had come over her. "And no, you shouldn't be sitting here chatting me up and getting your chance. You should be going home to your wife, who should be pissed because you're home late again, and you should go to bed like a good little husband and forget I ever gave you the opportunity." She braced her foot on the cushion between his thighs and kicked his chair backward. She was screaming now, her cheeks flush with rage. "Hate to see me go? Love to watch me leave? Then watch this pink skirt twist out of your league. Goodbye, Dempson."
"Angie, Angie, wait, hold on just-" he stumbled up drunkenly and reached for her arm. She allowed herself to be pulled back to the desk where he sat her down gently. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just...worried is all. And the bit about the wife, you didn't have to do that and -"
"Shut up and drink."
Dempson did as he was told. She watched him, rage simmering beneath her lacquered lashes. "Now, disable your Device. I'll do the same to mine."
Again, he followed her orders without a single word. Then, seeing her expectant glance, took another swig again. He was beginning to feel quite ill and out of control. "But," as his father was fond of telling him, "when a pretty woman says jump, you don't ask questions. You just jump and hope you don't land on your ass."
"Good puppy," Angela said once they had both finished disabling their Device. She took a seat on his lap and leaned eagerly towards the large screen taking up the wall. "Now. How do you manually change someone's file?"
X
It was approaching midnight when Dany finally fell into an unintelligible stupor. Angela's head was swimming. She had assumed that the task that she had set out for herself would be simple - maybe a password here, a 'delete' button there. But, as she eventually found out from a drunken Dany, the System was vast and filled with error. She'd be lucky if she didn't succeed in blowing up the entire planet.
The thought of being governed by such an error-prone System was harrowing. Even worse, the System held immense sway over Donald Lee's case. If the little, faceless AI in his stupid Device sorted through the evidence and found him guilty then he was as good as dead. She glanced suspiciously at her Device, which, only hours ago, had been disabled. The screen was black. While it was off, she was undoubtedly a woman who was harmful to society. But when it turned back on, it would know nothing of her treachery and label her Upstanding. As always.
She put her head in her hands and squeezed. She sort of understood what she had to do. She lifted her head and placed her hands on the keyboard resolutely.
"Hey, doll, waduryoodoin?" Slurred Dany. Oh, right, she thought to herself. She wasn't looking forward to this part.
She lifted herself from the swirling office chair and walked towards Dany. He was seated in a corner with a lovelorn grin on his face. He had pissed himself, and for some reason, this angered Angela immensely. She knelt in front of him and reached into her pocket.
"'Member that gun you told me to buy? You know, in case my ex decided to do something crazy? I brought it with me. Do you think you can show me how to use it?"
Dany laughed uproariously and accepted the heavy metal object placed in his hand. He peeked in at the number of bullets before lifting the gun and framing her in the front sight. "All you gotta do is shoot," he sang. She quickly ducked out of the way and took the gun back.
"But how? How do you...how do you...undo the safety? Show me on your gun."
"Like this."
"And then what?"
"You put your finger over the trigger. Like this."
Dany's large finger curled around his gun's trigger. Angela cupped her hand around his and swiftly slid her pointer finger above his. She lifted their intertwined hands and pressed the muzzle against the side of his temple. His eyes widened in shock and she squeezed her finger over his. There was a loud pop that deafened her and she was quick to turn her head away to avoid most of the splatter.
She stood up with some difficulty and stumbled back to the office chair. Coughing, gun smoke stinging her throat, she rubbed the mouse over the small pad, effectively waking the computers up. She had been sure to memorize the first three layers of passcode as soon as Dany told her. This sent her directly to a screen that included a multi-level search function. She reached in the pocket and withdrew the sheaf of papers with Patty's information. She hesitated at the sight of blood splatter on the first page and she quickly smeared it away with her gloved wrist. She entered Patty's information and then pulled up a second screen, where she entered Donald Lee's.
Now was the hard part. She looked at their two faces side by side. They were both residents of New New New York, which was all that was needed to include them in the same Patch. She copied down a segment of Patty's record as well as her Classification: Detecting and then did the same to Donald who at that time was still classified as Harmful.
She hit the reboot button and waited as the computers recalibrated and then shut down. After thirty minutes the screens flashed back to life and she retyped the necessary passcodes. She pulled up Patricia's and Donald's files, which had been rendered empty during the reboot. There was a lot of information that had to be reentered and she grew frustrated with the attempt. She remembered hearing the maintenance workers talk about a copy-and-paste function in the System and hesitantly punched a few buttons. It seemed to be working at first until the screens erupted in static and began to enter information at random.
"No, no, no!" she cried and furiously pounded at the keyboard. The screen rippled and revealed a new set of files that had been spliced at random. Her eyes began to water as she stared at the screens in dismay. It was no use, she realized as she poked desperately at the keys, the new information had been saved and it was not what she had been expecting at all. She picked up the empty whiskey bottle and flung it at the screens. Wet shards of glass tumbled down the flashing electronic words. She read them over and over again. Patricia's face beamed out from beneath a rainbow-lit shard and this upset her greatly.
But it would have to do.
She read over the tampered file one last time and was satisfied by the change of events. Yes, she thought to herself, this might just work. Though it was not what she had expected, the change in the files told a new story. One that painted Donald in a curious, but suddenly innocent light. She carefully tucked her gun into her pocket and shrugged on her coat. She stepped over the body of the slain maintenance worker and left the way that she came. The broken cameras never caught her image. And the next day it was announced that Dany Dempson, Classification: Good had committed drunken suicide by his issued gun in the System Maintenance Room.
"Good riddance," was all that his oblivious wife would say when questioned about the event, "I'm sure that man had a guilty conscience."
X
One Year Later
The Apartment Owned by Mrs. Williams and Ms. LaVelle
She stared at Patty in shock. Her head was reeling again but not in a fun way. We need you to help us break into the System Maintenance building so we can retrieve the System Records, that's what the poofy-haired man - Spike - had said.
System Records, what system records? She thought to herself as she stared into Patty's eyes. Is there a paper trail that Dempson didn't tell me about?
"It's not possible," she said in a hoarse voice.
"Well, we sort of heard it from the horse's mouth, so to speak. Angie, believe me, hun, I'm innocent. You know that, you've been my roommate for over six years."
If it was true, and there really was another record of Patty's innocence before the files were tampered with, then all would be lost. No, it couldn't happen. She simply wouldn't let it "No," she said. "You can't break into the System. I can't help you."
"You can't or you won't?" The man said and she cast him a dirty look.
"You're a murderer, Patrica. I'm not gonna help a filthy criminal. I'm gonna turn your ass in right now." She made a move to run for the phone but Patty tripped her and she sprawled out along the kitchen floor. "What the-" Patty yanked her up and shoved her against the wall.
"Angela. I'm not asking you."
"And I'm not telling you," Angela screamed back in her face. The grip on her collar tightened. "Put me down, you bitch!"
Patty sighed. "I'm getting really tired of hearing that word. Remember when we played Uno last year and I marked all of the cards with an invisible gel that could only be seen from my side of the table? I was able to read your entire deck."
"Of course I remember!" Angela said. Had Patty gone mad? "What-"
"Then you know I don't always play fair,"
Oh, the gun. Why was it always a gun? The barrel was cold against her chin. Such a small thing with so much potential! Spike rushed forward and attempted to intervene but Patty ignored his warnings. Patty was saying something but her words sounded muffled, as if by cotton. Angela shook her head wildly. What had Patty been saying? What had she said in response?
Patty was talking to Spike now. Angela stared at him, wondering just where the hell he had come from and who did he think he was. The way that they talked to each other was so familiar, and yet so cold. Was he one of Patty's old flings that she hadn't told Angela about?
"...Angie, hun, I need those Record books today."
Angela jumped when she realized that Patty had been talking to her. She brought her hands up and circled them around Patty's wrists. It was mighty hard to reckon with a woman holding a gun, and for a brief moment, Angela's mind flashed back to Dany Dempson, drunk and holding a gun to his temple. Well, he had been drunk but they had ultimately fired the weapon together, with her guidance.
I need those Record books today. Patty's words buzzed through her head.
I need them, too, Angela thought to herself. That was it! She'd just have to get the damn books herself. She'd lead them to it, she had no choice, but she'd just have to get her fingers on the right pages first. Elation filled her body and she smiled. Back to the place that started it all, she thought. The irony! The pure comedy that had become the circus of her life! She thought she'd never have to see that damn System Maintenance room again but there she was, on the verge of leading Patty to the very place that had changed everything.
She began to laugh and Patty took a step back, her face twisted in confusion. Such a silly look! And the man, Spike, with the exact same expression. Poor, confused little birds, Angela giggled and wiped a tear from her cheek. The image of them lying dead, in the Maintenance room, with that same ridiculous look crossed her mind and she laughed even harder.
"Put the gun down, patty cake, I was only messing with you," she said lightheartedly, "Of course I'll help you. You're my roomie, right? And roommates always come first."
She held her pinky up, which Patty ignored.
"Get a coat and a face covering," Patty said, lifting the gun once again. "We're leaving now."
"Right! Be back in a jiff!"
Angela gave a hop and a skip back to her room. Once inside, her expression turned sober and she rooted through her clothes. She found what she was looking for and stuffed it in her belt before throwing a heavy Winter coat around her shoulders.
When she walked back out, both Patty and Spike were looking at each other with expressions that Angela couldn't quite read. There was a tension in the air that Angela pretended not to notice.
"Shall we?" She said, sauntering towards the door. Patty said nothing and followed her outside, close on the heels of the man named Spike.
So little patty-cake's got herself a gun, she thought to herself, tucking her hand beneath her belt. Well. Two can play at that game.