The Secret Diary of Cameron Baum

TUESDAY

Night. Mia's bedroom. For reasons of her own Mia has asked me to tuck her into bed and read a story. This daily ritual usually falls to John. Snowy is already on the bed, a small furry bundle curled up asleep on the coverlet.

"Cameron, tell me a story."

"Very well. What book would you like me to read?"

"Not from a book. Make a story up. John does it all the time. He's really good at it."

"Very well. Once there was a girl. A human girl. And like all humans composed of ten percent hydrogen, sixty percent oxygen, twenty percent carbon and ten percent nitrogen and other trace elements."

"What's the girl's name?" Mia interrupts.

"Her name is Legion."

"That's a funny name. Does she have a doggie?"

"No doggie. The girl doesn't own these atoms; they belong to no one. They have existed for billions of years and will continue to exist for billions of years to come, far outlasting the girl's puny lifespan and that of the solar system that spawned her. They will not miss her or remember her brief and futile existence."

"Wow, you're really impressed by atoms, aren't you?"

"Atoms are the very building blocks of the universe."

"Kinda boring, though."

I concede there are few thrilling car chases at the atomic level.

"D'you suppose if Harry Styles met me he'd like me?"

Harry Styles is a member of a boy band. Their pictures adorn the walls. "I don't know, I reply. "It is possible. Your facial features have a pleasing symmetry that most cultures judge attractive. Of course, you are sexually immature. For some men this is a positive, though if this fact is discovered they face a potential loss of liberty and prolonged social stigmatism."

"I bet if he met me he'd really really like me. If only we could meet..."

"I could kidnap him if you wish and hold him captive in the basement?"

"Oh Cameron, you're so funny!" Mia laughs; I smile to indulge her. Oh well, she can't say I never offered to help...

"Look at Snowy's paws twitching. That means he's dreaming. I wonder what dogs dream about?"

"I don't know. Dreams are very mysterious."

"Do you ever dream?"

"Once. It involved crabs."

"Crabs? Bor-ring! I bet Snowy's dreaming of running through the jungle chasing dinosaurs."

"This seems unlikely given he is terrified of pigeons."

"Only pigeons on the ground. If they're flying in the sky he's fine."

Oh my. Such courage...

"Tell me another story."

"Very well. Once there was a boy. A human boy. And like all humans composed of-"

"Wait - does this story have atoms in it?"

"Yes."

"Goodnight, Cameron."

"Goodnight, Mia."

-0-

With the safe house on lockdown and its occupants asleep, I head out on patrol. I walk two blocks east to a street that is causing me some concern. There is a store on a corner plot owned by a korean family who import lowend electrical devices from southeast asia. So far so blah. Then last week it was raided by the sheriff's department and discovered to be selling counterfeit Apple products and passing them off as the real deal. So many armed officers in close proximity to the safe house made me feel...antsy. Fortunately they were only interested in knockoff tablets and cellphones; a state of the art fully functional cyborg living nearby was completely ignored. A lucky break. For them.

I find the store closed and dark. A sign plastered on the doors reads:

TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR BUSINESS

I would like to swap temporary for permanant by burning the place down. However, since John is reluctant to let me burn down the Abbot's trampoline an even greater conflagration is unlikely to win his approval. Bummer. Everyone loves a nice bonfire.

I loop north, passing by a small park, a green oasis amid the suburban sprawl. In the day this is a pleasant locale frequented by rollerbladers and office staff keen to eat lunch in the open air. At night it is very different. Vagrants gather to imbibe alcohol, sleep on the benches and search the trash cans for discarded food. I judge this human flotsam to be more of a threat to themselves than to us. Several are regulars and notice me from my frequent night patrols. I get the occasional nod of recognition and slurred invites to join them. These men may be derelicts but they seem very hospitable.

Although walking is not quite a criminal offence in Los Angeles, someone on foot at this late hour and not in an automobile would most likely raise the suspicions of any police patrol. Therefore when I hear a vehicle approaching I stop and step back into the shadows cast by the street lights. I do so now, though the engine sounds too powerful for a police cruiser. Sure enough a yellow Ferrari cruises down the centre of the road. Even the Beverly Hills PD can't afford those. It stops outside a gated community, a smaller version of the one we visited in Sacramento. This is home to many celebrities who aren't quite successful enough to own homes in Bel Air or the Malibu Colony, yet desire the protection such places offer to those in the public eye. The driver seems to be known to the guards on the gate and the Ferrari is waved through. As it disappears from sight one of the guards says to the other, "Rich asshole!" They laugh uproariously. I don't get the joke. Must be the way he tells them.

I turn the corner of the block on which the safe house resides and am immediately confronted by four young people, teenagers ostensibly like myself, grouped together under a street lamp. Two boys and two girls. The females look dressed for a party in spangly dresses while balancing precariously on high heeled shoes, their bare legs spindly and pale in the articial light cast by the lamp. They watch me approach without fear or prejudice. Why wouldn't they? To all appearances I am exactly like them: an errant teen out long past curfew.

One of the boys nods at me. "S'up," he says by way of greeting. "S'up," adds one of the females, though without the nod.

I analyse this greeting.

S'up.

Shortened form of 'What is up?'

Correct reply : S'up. Spoken in a neutral tone, devoid of interrogation.

On no account reply with the following:

1)Birds

2)Planes

3)The moon

4)The ever expanding universe

"S'up," I reply. I decide to add a slight tilt of my head. I like to improvise.

One of the females, the blonde, who is slightly taller than her brunette companion, says, "Hey, I know you. You live on this block same as me. I've seen you walking a small dog that's always yapping."

"Snowy does like to talk," I admit. The little furry blabbermouth

One of the boys says, "Yeah. You're the girl with the hot mom who always out jogging."

"She does like to run," I confirm.

"Man, those legs. She's milf-tastic!"

The other boy laughs. Neither girl does. The blonde frowns and says, "Jesus, Spencer, you just called her mom a milf. Right in front of her face. Show some class."

"Sorry. Just meant she's really attractive. For an old."

I nod to show I'm not offended. Why would I be? I have no idea what milf-tastic means. Some kind of energy bar?

"I'm Paige," the blonde says. "This is my friend Sooki. The two boneheads are Spencer and Marcus."

"Cameron."

"Really? Isn't that like a boy's name?" the boy named Spencer grins.

"I get that a lot," I announce. I add a rueful smile to show I'm not bothered. If I was he'd be dead about now.

"We're waiting for our ride," Paige explains. "We snuck out after curfew. Our folks think we're tucked up all safe and snug in bed. Gonna head over to the Viper Room on Sunset. Got fake IDs and everything."

I am shown the fake IDs. They're not very good. In fact, they are the least convincing I have ever seen. I inform them of this.

"Oh don't say that!" says Paige. "They cost like fifty bucks."

"Each?"

"God, no. All in."

It appears you get what you pay for.

"We're hoping Johnny Depp'll show up tonight."

"I'm telling you, Sooks, there's no chance," Marcus states emphatically. "He's too old for that party shit now. He's got kids. We've more chance of seeing River Phoenix."

Everyone laughs. I join in. For once I get the joke. A river in a nightclub. How absurd!

Sooki glances at her watch. "Where's Kevin? He should have been here twenty minutes ago. This dress is so thin I'm freezing my nipples off here."

"Yeah, we can tell," Spencer grins.

"Pig!"

The two boys are very similar in build, with identical shaggy hair brushed forward over the brow in a manner popularised by the Beatles. Perhaps it's a retro thing. Paige is blonde and pale and clutching her purse like it's a lifebelt. Sooki is a short asian-american with dark hair and rouged lips presently arranged in a sulky pout. "Someone call Kevin's cell," she says. "If he's baled on us his balls are toast."

"Relax. He'll be here."

Paige says to me, "Your mom, Cameron. Is she, like, seeing anyone?"

"Seeing anyone?"

"Like a boyfriend or something. Only my father's a divorcee. He's seen your mom pass our house and I think he'd really like to, y'know, get to know her. He's a jogger too. And he's not a perv or anything. He's a dentist. Got his own practice. Own house. Drives a beemer. Got all his own teeth. She could do worse."

"I should hope he has his own teeth," Marcus says. "Pretty crap dentist if he didn't."

"My mom doesn't have her own teeth," Sooki says. "All caps. Every last one of them. Fifty grands worth. That's my college fund spent right there in her mouth."

"Poor Sooks. Want a hug?"

"Not from you, Spence. I know you. You'll try and cop a feel."

"Alas, my reputation precedes me."

Paige sighs, "No one at school can understand what I see in him."

"Tell them you've got reasons, baby. Nine of them. All inches."

Sooki giggles. Paige rolls her eyes. Nine inches? What does he mean by...Oh. Right. Impressive.

A vehicle turns the corner, its headlamps suddenly bathing us in harsh white light. It is long and black, like an elongated van. I have not seen its like before. Not so Paige...

"A hearse? Our ride's a freaking hearse? You gotta be kidding me. We've waited half the night for that?"

The window rolls down. A teenage boy sticks his head out topped with another Beatle haircut. Maybe I should wear my hair like that? As if! The sixties are so over. And i don't miss it in the slightest "Hey, guys. Sorry I'm late. Traffic was a bitch. Nose to tail on the 405."

"Never mind the traffic, Kevin. WTF, man, this is our ride?"

"Uh - yeah."

"You said you'd borrow your father's wheels."

"These are his wheels, Paige. Pop's an undertaker."

"I thought you meant his regular car, y'know, something a normal person drives."

"You mean his Lexus? Nah, I couldn't borrow that. If I got caught he'd flip out big time."

"Oh and I suppose stealing something you transport dead people in is the saner option, huh? In bizzarro world."

"Jeez, Paige, chill out, will you. No one's stealing anything."

"I'm not getting in that thing. No way."

"Paige, babe, you're over-reacting," Spencer wheedles, trying to persuade her into the backseat. "It's not like there's a dead body in the back. Right, Kev?"

"Uh - right. Course not. That'd be sick."

"Oh really. What's that wooden box for then?"

"Uh - it's a toolbox. Yeah, a box for tools. Just don't open it, okay."

"It's awfully big for a toolbox."

"Yeah, well, they're long tools. Long and very stiff."

"Speaking of long stiff tools..."

"Not now, Spencer. Okay? I am so not in the mood."

"Look, whatever's in the cask- er, toolbox it's not like they're gonna bother us, right?"

"I am freaking out here!"

"Sooki, talk to her."

"It's okay, Paige, sweetie. Not so bad really. Look. Someone put some pretty flowers in the back."

"Oh. My. God."

"Just get in, Paige. It's a short drive. I'll buy the first round of drinks, okay?"

"Drinks? I'll need a freaking sedative after this. And years of therapy. You gonna pay for that too?"

"Sure sure. Whatever you want. Step on it, Kevin."

The vehicle moves away. I can still hear Paige protesting as it turns the corner and disappears. Strange girl. Why the drama? Perhaps she gets carsick or something.

WEDNESDAY

John is amused when I tell him of my encounter with the teenagers. "Check you out," he grins between bites of breakfast. "Cameron hanging with the homies."

"They were homies?"

"Well, middle class kids trying to act older and tougher than they really are. Their fake IDs were really bad, huh?"

"They would not fool any competent inspection."

"Probably some kid ran them off on the school xerox machine during recess. They'll learn."

"Why did Spencer refer to your mother as milf-tastic?"

John suppresses a smile. "You really want to know?"

"Yes."

He enlightens me. In some detail. As Paige would say - Oh. My. God.

"It's those lycra pants she wears. I guess it's inevitable someone would notice."

"She is still of child bearing age so it is possible a male suitor might wish to inseminate her."

John winces. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that."

"Should I terminate him?"

"What? No! We're never gonna be entirely invisible if we live in the suburbs. And if anyone got fresh with mom she can more than handle herself." He pushes his plate away. "Interesting about the girl's father though. He checked mom out so I think we'll check him out."

An internet search finds his name is Doug Bartlett, a divorcee living with his only daughter, Paige, in a four bedroom house on the north side of our block. He owns a private dental practice here in Santa Monica.

"Oh wow, he's more than just a jogger. Check it out. Short list for the American olympic squad back in the eighties. Only a knee injury stopped him going. He's set all kinds of records for the Over 40s all the way up to marathon distance. This guy's a serious jock. He's even got a cool nickname. They called him Buzz at college."

"Buzz Bartlett?"

"Yeah. Why - have you heard that name?"

"You mention a Buzz Bartlett. Once. Very briefly."

"Future me?"

"Yes."

"How? In what context?"

I retrieve the appropriate memory file and open it. The future - my past - begins to playback in my sensorium like an unspooling movie. It is like having a home cinema right there in my skull. No popcorn though. Bummer.

THE FUTURE

US/MEXICO BORDER

I am chasing the sunset. And losing.

The jeep I am driving skitters across the uneven road surface, the tires constantly on the brink of losing adhesion. I feather the throttle and wrestle the wheel making instantaneous corrections that no human could emulate. Seated behind me are John, Commander Connor, the leader of the Resistance army, and his second in command, Derek Reese. We have just crossed the US-Mexico border, heading north in a convoy of five vehicles. Accompanying us are the finest soldiers the Resistance can muster. A deliberate show of force to impress our Mexican hosts. The negotiations went well and we are returning with all of our objectives achieved.

But at a cost. One man especially believes we have paid too high a price. Derek Reese has been fidgeting with barely suppressed anger since we left Mexico, his body language radiating negativity from every pore. Finally, John says, "Spit it out, Derek. You've been like a bear with a sore head the last hundred miles. Gonna give yourself an ulcer."

"Dammit, you gave them San Diego - sir."

"And in return we get eighty percent of this year's harvest and their best platoon will guard our southern flank."

"And San Diego will be Mexican after the war."

"You really believe that?"

"I saw you sign the treaty."

"Who am I, Derek? Am I the President of the United States? No. Hell, I didn't even attend military academy. I'm a high school dropout. Since when is a single inch of this land mine to give away? Any competent lawyer will tell you that treaty isn't worth the paper its written on."

"So it was a bluff. You conned them."

"Only way we could get what we wanted. Escobar needed something tangible to show his generals and an American city is a pretty big bargaining chip. He's under a lot of pressure from his people. There are factions who want to retreat to the mountain redoubts and leave Skynet to us."

"Maybe they're right. We don't need them. They can't fight worth a damn anyway."

"But we do need them, Derek. We need their crops. I've drafted two thousand men from our farms in New Mexico for the final assault. The crops there will wither and die in the fields. Without the Mexican harvest we'll starve. Without the two thousand extra troops we don't stand a hope in hell of storming the Skynet citadel."

"Why is the citadel so important? We should be dealing with the HunterKiller base, eliminating the aerial threat so we can operate day and night and not have to hide away in holes in the ground like so many goddamn rats."

"It's what the citadel contains that's the key to ending this war."

"And what's that?"

The Time Portals, is what John could say but doesn't. Only he knows of their existence at this point. And he has known for a very long time. Reese will find out soon enough.

"Slow down, Cameron," John orders. "I don't want to get too far ahead of the others. Not everyone has your driving skills."

I do as ordered. Derek Reese still seethes with more complaints.

"Kyle's not happy. I told him I'd speak to you. He wants to know what he's done wrong."

Kyle Reese. Derek Reese's younger brother. An able if impetuous Resistance soldier.

"Kyle's done nothing wrong."

"Then why has he been demoted?"

"I've given him command of the First Reserve. That's hardly a demotion."

"Kyle feels he should've been given command of the lead assault group."

"I disagree. The First Reserve will have an equally important role to play."

"Bullshit - sir. The First Reserve is stuffed full of techies. He's basically babysitting a bunch of nerds."

"Those nerds, as you call them, have a vital role to perform. Keeping them safe is an absolute priority. We'll need them when we breach the citadel."

"Will you speak to him?"

"He has his orders."

"Dammit, Commander, my brother deserves better than that!"

"Tell him...Tell him I understand his frustration, but what he is about to do will possibly be the most decisive act in overthrowing Skynet. One day myself and the world will owe him a great debt.."

"Seems to me you're playing your cards pretty close to your chest - sir."

"A Commander's perogative. Now, did you source the diamonds like I asked you?"

"Yeah. Found them just lying on the floor of an old jeweler's store. Worth a fortune back in the day."

"And will be again. Are they small enough to swallow?"

"I suppose. You mind telling me what this is about?"

"All in good time, Derek. All in good time."

We reach the nearest Resistance stronghold buried deep underground just as the last light is fading over the horizon. I park under the camouflage netting and kill the engine. And not before time; it's been redlining for the last fifty miles. Machines. Sometimes you can trust them and sometimes you can't.

Derek Reese jumps from the jeep and strides away, body language no less intense than before. "He is being insubordinate. You should discipline him," I suggest.

"He's just being Derek," John replies wearily. He levers himself from the jeep's cramped interior, bones giving an audible crack as he straightens up. It has been a long stressful day followed by an equally arduous journey here. He is no longer a young man. No longer the callow teenager I will be sent back in time to protect.

As we make our way deeper underground, the Resistance fighters we pass stop and stand rigidly to salute. The respect for their commmander in chief is absolute. Though almost out on his feet with weariness, John snaps off a crisp return salute. The morale of the army takes its cue from the leader in chief. If he looks tired and depressed this mood will perculate throughout the camp causing despair and despondency.

The comms officer stands and salutes like the others. John says, "Hold all calls. Except Buzz Bartlett. Patch him through. I owe him that much. He was an old friend of my mother."

"Yessir!"

I take up station outside John's quarters. I will remain here until he awakens or gives me orders otherwise. Everything is now in place. The Mexicans have fallen into line whether they know it or not. The final assault on Skynet will begin soon.

-0-

"That's it? 'If Buzz Bartlett calls patch him through. I owe him that much. He was an old friend of my mother'. I never mention him again?"

"Not in my presence. And you use the past tense suggesting Bartlett and your mother are no longer friends."

"No. No, I don't think that's what I meant."

"Then what?"

"I think it means mom's no longer alive."

Just then Sarah Connor enters the kitchen, not deceased but hale and hearty as ever. John stares thoughtfully at her, seems to decide something, and says, "It's been five months since Mia last saw a dentist. Should I book an appointment? There's a dentist right here in Santa Monica."

"Have we used him before?"

"No."

"Okay, set it up. I'll take her after school."

When Sarah Connor leaves the room I say, "You realise this could be how they become acquainted?"

A nod. "It's been a long time since Charlie Dixon. She could use a friend."

-0-

Mia proves a harder sell.

"Why do I have to go to the dentist? I only went like a three weeks ago."

"Five months ago," Sarah Connor corrects. "You need to have your teeth checked regularly for cavities."

"I've never had a cavity in my life."

"Because in Mexico you ate healthily. Whole grains and fresh fruit and vegetables. The moment you arrived in America you've eaten nothing but processed food and candy bars. It's a wonder you've any teeth left."

"Oreos are healthy. They have cream inside. Cream comes from cows and cows eat grass. Grass is healthy."

"What are they teaching you at school?"

"Can Snowy come?"

"Of course not."

"Suppose he has a cavity?"

"Then we take him to the vet. Dentists are for people, not animals."

"He won't be any trouble."

"That's what you said when we went shopping for shoes. That dog ran round the store with a pair of High-Tops clenched in his jaws."

"He didn't mean any harm. He was just playing."

"I ended up having to buy the High-Tops. And they didn't even fit you."

"So? They're his favourite chew toy. It's not like they went to waste."

"Two hundred dollars for a chew toy? The dog stays here."

"Fine. I'll go to the stupid dentist. But I'm warning ya - if I see a needle anywhere near my mouth I'll scream the place down."

Sarah Connor rolls her eyes. "And people say spend more quality time with your children."

-0-

They return two hours later. Sarah Connor goes upstairs to change and John takes the opportunity to quiz Mia.

"So how'd it go?"

"Great. No cavities. I don't even need braces."

"Did mom speak to the dentist?"

"Yeah. He lives on our block. How weird is that?"

"Weird. Did he say anything to mom?"

"He said he'd seen her out jogging and was tempted to join her."

"What'd she say?"

"She kinda smirked and said he'd never keep up. Hey, it was probably just as well Snowy didn't come with us. There was a huge ficus tree in the waiting room. Snowy would've peed on it for sure."

"You think so? He's better house trained than that."

"I dunno. It was a pretty nice tree. I was tempted to pee on it myself."

They both laugh. I refrain. Random urination. Not so hilarious.

-0-

Mia and Snowy head down to the basement den while Sarah Connor descends the stairs, dressed in her usual outfit of jeans and tanktop.

"Mia said the dentist lives on our block. That right?" John asks with pseudo-innocence.

"Doug Bartlett. He lives on the north side in the house with the white portico."

"And he's a keen runner?"

"I'll find out tomorrow. I said he could join me."

"Oh really?"

"It's just a run, John. Nothing more."

"Right. Well, I hope you don't humiliate the poor guy."

A smirk. "We'll see."

THURSDAY

"There he is. He's tall. Is he handsome, you think? I'm a guy, I've no frame of reference."

John and I are looking out the window at the arrival of Doug Bartlett for his run with Sarah Connor, who has been doing stretches in the front yard whilst waiting. Bartlett is indeed tall. Also trim with sinewy limbs and a full head of dark hair. "Totally doable," I judge.

The two set off on their run and are gone the best part of four hours. John is on edge the whole time. It is not hard to read his thoughts. Is this how the two meet and become friends? Or has the future been somehow irrevocably altered by his discreet match making with repercussions that are unforeseeable and possibly disastrous?

Sarah Connor enters the house. Her tanktop is dark with perspiration and her lycra pants seem to cling to her toned legs and butt like a second skin.

"So how'd it go?" John inquires with forced nonchalance.

"Fine. He's a decent athlete."

"Who won?"

"It wasn't a race, John. And I let him close up over the last mile."

"But he didn't beat you?"

"Hardly. The loser bought breakfast."

"You think you'd have beaten him if it wasn't for Cameron's - uh - enhancements?"

"We'll never know, will we. Thanks to her meddling."

This is the gratitude I get for saving her life.

-0-

Sarah was getting a mite peripheral so I thought I'd toss her a bone. (snigger)

Marcus and Spencer? Hey - at least the girls aren't Dorothy and Perkins.

I like to cast my OCs.

Paige would be played by Jennifer Stone, Harper in Wizards of Waverley Place.

Sooki is Brenda Song.

Spencer would be played by...me, probably. Lol.

Nathon Fillion as Buzz Bartlett. Too expensive? In my head he works for scale.