The Ghost in the Machine
Chapter Two
"Have you ever just stared at it?"
One of us is waiting,
One side of us waiting
Smith loved the feel of ice against the side of his head. The condensation from the cold pack snaked down Smith's arm inside his sleeve forming a damp spot at his elbow. He stretched out on the long eggplant colored sofa and elevated his feet as per Kai's instructions—demands. Silently, he stared at the ceiling tile and isolated something familiar and inexplicably comforting in its orderly grid pattern. The lights were low with the exception of green Tiffany-style lamp with an intricate serpent patterned shade. The room was comforting in the sense of déjà vu it created. The tension in his muscles began to loosen.
Kai announced her presence by turning on the stereo and Smith cringed at the volume. The music lacked intelligible words and was dominated by a hypnotic bass line echoing the human heart. The rhythm made Smith feel anxious, like being trapped in an empty box with someone on the outside banging against its hollow walls. The tension returned.
"Here," she sat down crossed legged on the scratched coffee table and put two aspirin into his free hand. Smith looked at the aspirin and reluctantly accepted the glass of water she offered. "Just aspirin," she winked as he eased into a sitting position. "Made by the folks at Bayer—you know they're the ones who first manufactured Heroin. They sold it as a cough syrup. Capitalist bastards." She waited while Smith choked down the aspirin and returned the ice pack to his temple. "I talked to Louie and he said he could drop by around eight to check on you. He told me to not to let you doze off, lest you have an aneurysm and die."
"I appreciate your concern," Smith reflected on his desire not to have an aneurysm. "Who is Louie?"
"Louie Patel? He's your friend not mine." Her tone betrayed irritation and she looked away. "Oh, yeah, you can't remember. He's some quack doctor who can't get his certificate renewed. Something about being over generous with his 'script pad. Like I said, your friend not mine."
Smith rose up slightly, "An unlicensed doctor is coming to check on me. Why?"
"Because you've been hit upside the head and apparently can't remember anything. Call me a hypochondriac, but I think that's a damn good reason to seek medical attention. Your brain's probably swelling as we speak and you're inches away from a stroke."
An uncharacteristic amount of panic surfaced in his voice, "Do you not think that it would be more fitting for me to see a licensed doctor in a hospital then?" He was not certain that he liked this person that he apparently was, yet he had no intention of allowing anything to jeopardize the only life he possessed.
"If you look like this, the person who did this to you is probably a lot worse off and there'll be someone in a uniform waiting for you to stumble on in." Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Smith's sidearm on the kitchen counter. While on the phone with Louie, she checked the magazine and found it empty "Besides, since when do you like hospitals?"
Silently, she maintained her position on the coffee table perching like a gargoyle over the injured man. He felt awkward under her steady gaze. His anxiety increased. There were things he wanted to say, but he could not remember what. He even found himself compelled to apologize to her—again, for what, he could not explain. With some effort, he pushed the anxiety aside and decided that he was not going to apologize for anything he could not remember.
The sentinel leaned forward.
Gently, Kai moved Smith's hand and the melting ice pack to better survey the damage. For a moment she was tempted to haul him off to the emergency room. A small ominous looking gash marked the beginning of a dark bruise extending from an inch above his right temple downwards towards his earlobe. Her thoughts drifted back to a first aid class she took years ago. She touched the wound with her fingertips and Smith grabbed her wrist instinctively, if not violently. His reflex startled her, the strength in his hands proved all too familiar. She jerked away and got to her feet. "There's part of me that thinks you're just screwing around with this whole memory thing, Michael."
He groaned, articulating his annoyance with Kai's persistent doubt. Smith could not imagine why anyone would want to pretend to be as clueless as he was at this point. It was embarrassing. Even worse was the apparent complexity of his relationship with the younger woman with fiery red hair and a pierced nose. It was like walking through a minefield blindfolded. "Why would I do that?"
"Why?" She laughed. "Because you're an asshole and this is just the kind of stunt you'd pull. You walk out of here six months ago talking about this big mysterious thing with Howie. You said you weren't going to be back. My life gets normal and then I find you with a busted head sitting on a park bench in the middle of the day dressed like you've seen Reservoir Dogs one too many times. You're here ten minutes and Louie Patel is already ringing the bloody phone. It's like you're connected to this great cosmic interface and you found out that I'd just about gotten over you, so you had to come back and screw every thing up." Her hands were shaking and she stormed over to stereo for her cigarettes. "This is just too weird," she struggled with her lighter. "But, then again I live in the fucking Bermuda Triangle of weirdness."
Something clicked inside of Smith and he sat up. "You are irrational. If my presence causes you the type of emotional trauma about which you speak, you should not have approached me nor brought me here. The choice belonged to you. Had you walked by, I would never have noticed." His last comment only intensified her rage. He waited. "Why did you stop?"
"I've been putting up with your sorry ass for ten years, Michael. I know everything about you. I know all your snide comments by heart, every dirty look, the way you sneak around. It's my lot in life to have to deal with you. You remind me of someone I once knew. That, and deep down I have this sick attraction to you, which is probably purely sexual and I need therapy. " She finally managed to light her cigarette. "At least I found you attractive, before all this?" She motioned to his black suit.
"Relationships based solely upon physical attraction are rarely successful and if you fail to find me attractive now, then we have no basis for a relationship and subsequently, it makes no sense for you to have me here." Smith smirked, pleased with his logic. "Most likely you do have a latent mental illness and are in need of professional treatment."
"I owe that bastard who smacked you my eternal devotion—he knocked some brilliance into you." She ground her teeth and clenched her fists. "If I've an illness, then you are the cause. Congratulations, Michael, you're a bloody infection." She stormed across the room and disappeared into hallway. The bathroom door slammed, knocking a framed picture off the bookshelf.
Smith started to get up and follow, but stopped not wanting to continue the conversation nor endure the dizziness that accompanied standing. The ice pack had melted, thus losing its charm. He tossed it onto the scratched table. As he tried to relax, he played back the conversation in his mind; the clarity and precision of the recent memory surprised him.
When he closed his eyes, he recalled every gesture she made and every word she uttered. "He knocked some brilliance into you." Brilliance. The word struck a cord, but not the way that she meant it. His mind stumbled madly after the connection. Literally, brilliance meant a great brightness. Brightness was defined as luminosity apart from hue. Luminosity came from the word luminous. Luminous described radiating or reflecting light. Luminous flux, the rate of transmission of luminous energy; luminous power...
His thoughts slammed into a brick wall.
"Damnit."
I'd listen to the words he'd say
But in his voice I heard decay
The plastic face forced to portray
All the insides left cold and gray
There is a place that sill remains
It eats the fear it eats the pain
The sweetest price he'll have to pay
The day the whole world went away.
From, The Day the World Went Away (NIN, Halo 13)