The Secret Diary of Cameron Baum
MONDAY
Morning. I am taking Snowy for his walk, a daily ritual and one I put to good use for it affords me a chance to check out the neighbourhood during the daytime.
We take my usual patrol route, heading west, Snowy trotting obediently at my heels. There is no need to seek anonymity in the shadows when a vehicle approaches. To all intents and purposes I am a normal teenage girl out walking her doggie. Long more closely and you might notice that the normal teenage girl sometimes forgets to breathe and the doggie has no problem having his barks understood. Look even closer and it will be the last thing you see. Ever.
We stop at the Korean store, the locus of so much police activity recently, which I am gratified to see is still closed for business. I press my face against the plate glass and see the empty shelves inside. Just then the door opens and a young Korean man exits. Snowy barks a friendly greeting. The man turns and snarls in Korean, "Get away from me, dog. Or I crush your skull."
I reply, also in fluent Korean, "Touch my dog and you die."
He seems startled to be addressed thus then smiles and says in fluent english, "You speak very good Korean yet are obviously American. Most impressive. And I meant your dog no harm. In Korea we love our pets - very delicious!" His smile becomes a laugh. "Isn't that what you Americans think - that we eat cats and dogs?"
"Do you?"
A shrug. "Maybe some do. Myself, I prefer Big Mac with fries."
I point at the store. "Are you reopening?"
"In a few days. A week at most. There are forms to fill in and correct procedures to follow. The American authorites are being extremely tiresome. Come back in a week and I give you good deal. Brand new iPad for one hundred dollah."
So the Koreans have not learnt their lesson. More counterfeit goods will bring more police attention within two blocks of the safehouse.
I smile and tilt my head slightly. "Do you have fire insurance?"
-0-
From the store to the park is less than three blocks. It is very different in the daylight hours. The winos and vagrants are gone, banished by the bright sunshine like so many TV vampires. In their place are the joggers, rollerbladers and office drones, grateful to leave their climate-controlled offices for some genuinely fresh air. Despite the pretty trees and flowering shrubs surrounding them most people stare instead at the screens of their tablets and smartphones, preferring the cyberworld to the real thing. This constant connectivity, the compulsive need to divulge and consume every mundane detail of their own lives and others, is like an addiction. A cure is coming. Its name is Skynet. And it will be brutal. Best of luck tweeting that.
I stop at an ice cream vendor and buy a cone. No sooner I have I paid than I drop it on the ground. The vendor commiserates and offers me another. I decline. "It's for my dog," I explain.
Snowy devours the cone with his customary enthusiasm, leaving not a crumb behind. When he starts licking the ground I give his leash a tug. If he's going to eat the tarmac we'll be here all day.
Beyond the park we encounter a construction crew digging up the street. Snowy strains his leash, wishing to linger and observe. He is impressed by their ability to dig such a big hole. I tell him he could the same if he just applied himself. But no; he scrapes a few inches and gives up. Such a slacker.
We enter the street that is the north side of our block. Ahead of us is the Bartlett residence, a large house dominated by its stylish white portico. In the driveway is a small compact coupe with the hood up. A young girl is bent over studying the engine bay. Snowy bounds forward and barks a greeting. He has learnt that females tend to make more of fuss over him than males. The girl looks round and my facial recognition software pings, finding a match. It's Paige Bartlett, the homey I briefly hung with and daughter of Buzz Bartlett, the man who is in the process of befriending Sarah Connor.
"Hey. It's Cameron, right?"
"Right."
"And your little doggie. Hey, boy."
"His name's Snowy."
"Hey, Snowy."
Snowy needs no further invite to show off. He begins his latest routine.
"Ooh,what's he doing? He's not gonna hump my leg, is he?"
I assure her this is unlikely due to his lack of bad boys. Paige laughs and says, "Yeah! I know a few creeps at school could use that operation! Hey, is your dog...dancing?"
"Gangnam style. He practises."
"Oh. My. God. You're right! Wait, I've got the song on my cell."
She produces an iPhone, prods the screen and the all too familiar music begins. Snowy redoubles his efforts. Is it me, or does his dancing resemble someone experiencing a high-voltage electric shock?
"That was adorable!" Paige judges as the song ends. "Do you want a reward for being such a clever doggie? Do you like Doritos? Huh? Do ya?"
Does Snowy like Doritos? Is the sky blue? Is the grass green? Do humans bleed red if you slice them in half?
A bag of Doritos is produced and placed on the ground. Snowy immediately sticks his head inside and chows down.
Paige smiles. "Wow. Look at him go at it. Your dog's got quite an appetite."
Tell me about it...
"Hey, you were right about those fake IDs the other night. The bouncer at the Viper Room took one look and just laughed. Then Spencer tried to bribe him with twenty dollars and he laughed fit to burst."
"Perhaps if he had you could've sneaked in."
"Yeah! I'm supposed to be downtown right now. Doing work experience at the Times. I'm reading Modern English at university so I figure if I can get a Times gig on my resume I might swing a really good college, maybe even Yale or Sarah Lawrence."
"Sounds like a plan."
"Uh huh. Only this stupid car won't play ball. It's not starting and Daddy's at work and Spencer's not answering his cell. I don't suppose you know anything about engines?"
Do I know anything about engines? Is the sky blue? Is the grass green? Do humans- Well, you get the gist.
"Let me take a look."
I peer under the hood. In my HUD a shematic overlays the engine bay. The engine itself is a small four cylinder unit devoloping less than a hundred BHP, puny but efficient. I detect no problems there. The battery is a different matter. It's completely dead. I touch a forefinger to the postive terminal and a charge travels along my endoskeleton from my powercell. There is a small puff of smoke as the charge burns through my pseudoflesh. Paige's view is obscured by the raised hood; Snowy still has his head in the Doritos bag. "Try it now," I suggest.
The engine starts first time.
"Oh wow. You did it! Thanks so much. Wouldn't want to get fired on my first day or I'll be taking my degree at community college with all the freaks and potheads."
Paige lowers the hood. In the natural light of day I can see she is a pretty teenage girl with long blonde hair and impressively even teeth. I guess it helps if your father's a dentist.
"Hey, maybe I could do a story on you?"
"For fixing your car?"
"No, silly. The girl with the amazing dancing dog. It'd be a puff piece for the Sunday edition. I'd give you a name check, photos and everything."
Name check. Photos. Everything.
Targeting graphics overlay her pretty face. I am in terminating mode. Body disposal options scroll down my HUD. Neck break. Stuff the body in the trunk. Drive to a reservoir and consign body and vehicle to the watery depths.
Oblivious to her impending doom, Paige checks her watch and exclaims, "Jeez, look at the time! I gotta go. Later, okay. Thanks for fixing my car. See ya!"
We watch her drive away. Snowy barks:
snowy like new girl!
"You like Doritos, you mean."
snowy love doritos!
-0-
WEDNESDAY
John and I are seated on the sofa, watching a TV show entitled Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. The show postulates a world where superheroes are real and dedicated to protecting mankind from wrongdoers. Postulates? Hello - superhero sitting right here!
"Why can't Creed be more like Agent Coulson?" John muses.
"Laconic yet with an underlying sense of authority and a curious obsession with Tahiti?"
"Well, yeah. But mostly the flying car. How cool is that?"
"Very cool," I agree.
"No traffic jams for that guy."
"Although anonymity might be an issue. And birds are unlikely to obey the Highway Code."
Sarah Connor enters the room brandishing a newspaper. "Have you read this?"
"Not yet. Trying to catch up on Tivo before Mia clogs the hard drive with cartoons."
"That Korean store a couple of blocks from here burnt down yesterday."
"The place that sold fake Apple stuff?"
"That was the smoke we saw. Took two fire crews to extinguish. Police strongly suspect arson."
"Lucky Steve Jobs has a good alibi."
"He's dead," I point out.
"Exactly. Wonder if they had insurance?"
"They didn't," I reply.
John stares at me. "How'd you know that?"
Oops...
I explain that sixty percent of businesses in the USA have inadequate insurance. This is true though it doesn't stop him from staring at me suspiciously. Just then Snowy enters the room with his food bowl in his jaws. He drops it in front of us, his way of indicating he is hungry and wants feeding.
John gets up to oblige. The Korean store isn't mentioned again.
Phew, saved by the bowl!
-0-
SATURDAY
We receive an invitation to a barbecue from Doug 'Buzz' Bartlett. Sarah Connor is inclined to reject it. John tries to persuade her otherwise.
"Where's the harm? He lives round the corner. It's not like a long journey."
"I barely know the man."
"You've gone running with him. This is the normal neighborly thing to do. And I want this meet this guy."
So it's confirmed: barbecue at five pm Saturday at the Bartlett residence.
"What do I wear to a barbecue?" I ask. "A cocktail dress? Heels? Do I need to get my hair done? Will I require a tiara?"
"Sure. If you wanna be laughed at. Just regular clothes. Nothing fancy."
Mia too requires instruction on how to behave.
"If you're asked about Mexico say it was nice and you miss your Papa. Don't mention he was a gunrunner." Sarah Connor advises.
"I'm not stupid."
"I hope not considering how much we pay that school of yours. Okay, empty your pockets."
"There's nothing in my pockets."
"Then show me."
Mia sighs and produces the iPhone I adapted to decipher Snowy's barks.
"What have we told you about using this in public?"
"But I won't understand what Snowy's barking!"
"Which is how it should be."
"Don't worry, munchkin," John consoles her. "Snowy mostly talks about food. Or poop. You're not missing much."
This is true. Snowy is not what you'd call a cultured conversationalist. He's unlikely to receive an invite to The Charlie Rose Show any time soon, unless the subject under discussion is poop, then he would be a valued and esteemed guest whose opinions really matter.
"What is that dog wearing? Is that a bowtie?"
"He wants to look smart for the barbecue."
"He's a dog, not Fred Astaire."
"Who's Fred Astaire?"
"I had a dog once. A big alsation. A word from me and he'd attack anything that moved."
"Ah but he look as debonair as Snowy in a bowtie?" John quips.
Snowy is allowed to keep the bowtie. Then it's my turn.
"She has to eat something, John. Doug's in the medical profession; he knows about eating disorders."
"Cameron knows how to behave," John replies loyally.
"I wish I believed that. Okay, everyone ready? Let's get this thing over with."
"That's the party spirit!" John quips making Mia giggle. Snowy's bowtie begins to spin round. It's the joke type with a small electric motor. This doesn't seem to improve her mood. I wonder if Fred Astaire would approve?
-0-
The barbecue is set up in the Bartlett's backyard. This is mostly lawn with a pool beside the house next to a sun terrace dotted with canvas loungers. Tucked behind a low hedge is a cultivated strip of land where fruit and vegetables are grown. It seems Doug Bartlett is also keen on organically home grown produce. Snowy eyes the tilled earth with considerable interest. It is not hard to read his thoughts. He's thinking: Poop Zone. Fortunately Mia has noticed his intentions too and keeps a firm grip on his leash. Though this is my first time, I am pretty certain taking a huge dump in full view of the host is not correct barbecue etiquette.
Paige Bartlett attends the barbecue along with Spencer, presumably invited as her bf. There is no sign of Sookie or Marcus, the other homies I met before.
While John and Spencer chat by the pool, Paige draws me off to one side next to a long wooden table on which a large punch bowl has been filled with fruit juice for our refreshment.
"So that's your sister, huh?"
"Yes. Her name's Mia."
"And she's adopted, right?"
"Right."
"Duh, Paige, get a grip. Of course she's adopted. She's adorable. You know who she reminds me of?"
"Selena Gomez."
"Yeah! How'd you know that?"
"People tell her that all the time. It annoys her greatly."
"Annoys her? Why? Selena Gomez is gorgeous. I'd love it if someone said I looked like Gwyneth Paltrow."
"You look nothing like Gwyneth Paltrow."
Paige seems disappointed. "Really? Not even a little bit?"
"No."
"Oh. Anyway, your brother's cute too. I can totally see the resemblence between you two."
"You can?"
"Sure. You've got the same nose."
"We have?" Who knew?
"Is he seeing anyone? Because I can totally hook him up with Sooki. She's my BFF and everything and I love her to bits, but she's real easy. I mean, he wouldn't even have to try that hard."
I explain that John is seeing someone, though I don't name names.
"Oh. Too bad."
"Yes. Too bad." Not!
Paige takes a sip of the fruit punch and makes a face. "Does this punch taste funky to you?"
"Funky?"
"Like there's alcohol in it."
I take a sip. Sensors analyse the sample. It does indeed have alcohol in it. Vodka, I judge.
"Spencer!" Paige hisses across the lawn. "Did you put booze in the fruit punch?"
Spencer grins and gives an affirmative thumbs up.
"You idiot! Suppose Daddy tries some?"
"Relax, babe. The olds are sticking to wine."
"What about the little girl?"
Spencer shrugs and mimes someone drunk and swaying about.
"It's not funny!" To me she says, "We have to make sure your sister doesn't drink the punch."
"Mia won't touch the punch," I explain. "It's fruit juice and therefore healthy. She hates healthy. She will stick to Coke. The regular type not the sugar-free. She says that's for conchas."
"Conchas?"
"Pussies."
"God, your sister's badass!"
I smile. We are all badass; she just doesn't know it yet.
"That Spencer! I knew it was a mistake to invite him. One time at school he photocopied his butt, had it printed on a flag, and ran it up the school flagpole. The School of Buttmunch. The Principal didn't notice for two whole days. He laughed his head off."
"The Principal?"
"No, doofus. Spencer. The Principal almost had a heart attack. He's really old, like forty at least."
"Why do you date Spencer if he acts so puerile?"
"Jeez, I don't know... He can be charming when he wants to be. And he takes me out of myself, y'know? Sooki says I'm pretty intense most of the time, like I've a stick lodged up my butt."
"Do you have a stick lodged up your butt?"
"I guess. I just really want to study hard, get good grades and go to a top college. When I have my degree I want to work for a top newspaper, maybe as a investigative reporter. Only now is the worst time for print media. All the newspapers are laying off staff because everything's online now and no one's paying for anything. If I can just be a part of it before it all disappears into Mark Zuckerberg's wallet, that's all I ask. Because there are some great stories out there, Cameron. Even on this block I bet there are people with secrets that if they were made public would be front page news."
She is oddly prescient. What would she say if she knew she was talking to a cyborg sent back from the future to help save mankind? Grab your notebook, Nancy Drew, this'll win a Pulitzer for sure. Or at the very least, a screen credit for a cheesy scifi TV series.
John and Spencer join us. "So what d'you guys do?" Spencers asks.
"I'm studying for my computer science degree at night college," John replies casually. We've already discussed cover stories. "Cameron teaches english as a second language at community college. She's good with languages."
"Yeah? How many can you speak?"
"How many are there?" I reply. Modest much? Not me.
"How do you say 'Can I buy you a drink?' in Italian?"
"Posso offrirti un drink?
"In German?"
"Kann ich Sie kaufen ein Getränk?
Swedish?"
"Kan jag bjuda på en drink?
Paige says, "Oh. My. God. You're using her to teach you chat up lines!"
"Just trying to broaden my education."
"So you can pick up foreign babes! Why on earth are we still together?"
"Nine reasons," I recall. "All of them inches."
Spencer roars with laughter. "Damn straight! Hey, I like your sister, man. Posso offrirti un drink?"
"Spingere la bevanda su per il culo."
"What's that mean?"
"Shove the drink up your ass."
It's Paige's turn to roar with laughter. "Absolutely! You gotta teach me that one!"
"Cameron tells me you're doing work experience at the Times. That must be cool." John, trying to steer the conversation away from me.
"Yeah, it's my dream job. I'm learning a lot. Mostly how to make gallons of coffee. Man, journos drink a lot of coffee!"
"Gotta start somewhere."
"I guess."
"Did you tell them about the time I saw a UFO?" Spencer asks.
"Spence, you saw a light in the sky, not a UFO. Could've been anything. So no, I didn't tell them."
"You missed a scoop, babe. Probably the start of an alien invasion."
"Or a plane landing at LAX."
"Is it only little green men? Or are there little green women too? Alien poon, now that's a close encounter I'd like."
"If I spot any little green women I'll be sure and give them your number," Paige smirks.
"Thanks, Paige. Is my gf the coolest or what?"
"So, Cameron, do you enjoy teaching?"
"Not so much."
"I should hope not," says Spencer. "Teaching immigrants to speak our language so they can come here and steal our jobs."
"Could you be any more objectionable?"
"I could probably give it a shot."
"We're all immigrants, Spencer. Even you."
"True. I remember visiting my grandfather when I was a kid. He was from the Old Country. Had a picture of Mussolini on the wall. Took years before I realised it wasn't Curly from the Three Stooges."
"So what about you, man?" John asks. "What's your plan when you grow up?"
"If he grows up."
Spencer shrugs. For once he looks pensive. "I don't know. My folks want me to become a lawyer and I've kinda been playing along with it."
"But you don't want to be a lawyer?"
Another shrug. "Who knows?"
"You should try the army," I suggest. It will come in handy. Soon.
"Ha! No, a soldier's one thing I know I don't wanna be."
For now. One day he won't have a choice.
-0-
The barbecue goes well. Snowy is in his element: all the beef he can eat and an appreciative audience for his party tricks. Then he tries one backflip too many and lands on his head. He retires to the shade of a tree to recuperate. Paige coaxes him out of his funk by saying, "Hey, Snowy. How's your dancing? C'mon, boy, show us your Gangnam moves."
Snowy needs no second invitation, the little show off. Headache forgotten he begins to gyrate.
"So adorable! Wait. I've gotta tape this."
Paige whips out her iPhone and begins filming. John catches my eye and gives an almost imperceptible shake of the head. No bloodbath then. It would totally ruin the vibe.
"There. That's going on my YouTube page later."
"Is that the new iPhone 5?" John asks. "Can I see? I'm thinking of getting one."
On the pretext of examining the phone's latest features, John surruptitiously deletes the video file. No internet fame for Snowy. This is just as well. The celebrity would undoubtedly go to his head and he would become insufferable, like a small furry Kanye West.
The barbecue passes without further incident. The food is good quality and Doug Bartlett a good cook. Sarah Connor is shrewd enough to leave the cooking to others. Mia and Snowy charge about the huge yard, alternately chasing each other. John and Spencer find common ground with a shared love of arcade games, while Paige drinks several cups of fruit punch and passes out on a pool lounger, snoring gently and muttering 'Gywneth Paltrow' in her sleep. Is this who she's dreaming about? Oh well, I suppose anything's better than vindictive crabs representing my own homicidal psyche.
-0-
On the walk home I can't help but notice that John and his mother are slightly tipsy from alcohol consumption.
"That was fun!" Mia says. "Can we do it again?"
"Sure. Why not," Sarah Connor states.
Sure. Why not? She is so wasted!
"Spencer was hilarious. He showed me some rude shadow puppets. One of them had an enormous-"
"Bedtime." Sarah Connor interupts hastily as we reach the safe house.
"What? It's not even a school night!."
"Fine. Stay up all night watching TV."
So very wasted!
-0-
Saved by the bowl! Corniest line ever!
A small furry Kanye West. For some reason I can picture this.
Okay, that's enough domestic trivia, fun though it is to write. Time for some serious stuff.
Next: Cameron's actions endanger them all...