4

"Ah, Mrs. Frederic, listen I—" Artie's face peered up at Pete and Myka from the Farnsworth. "You're not Mrs. Frederic."

"Artie, it's us," said Myka. Pete leaned over close to her shoulder, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove the SUV.

"Who? How did you—?"

"It's us, Artie. Look, we're kind of in trouble."

"This guy, Captain Fuller of the Berkeley PD," said Pete, "we think he's causing everything that's happening. He must have an artifact and now we think that he's managed to erase all of our personal records somehow. Even our cell phones have been shut off. It's like we don't even exist." Pete spared a second to glance from the road to the Farnsworth. "Artie, are you listening? We're in trouble here."

"I'd say you're in trouble," Artie growled.

"But you can help us," said Myka. "Right, Artie?"

Ignoring her, Artie continued, "Hacking into an extremely sensitive and"—looking over his shoulder at someone offscreen—"supposedly secure communications system."

"Don't look at me." Claudia's voice from somewhere out of sight. "I didn't design the Farnsworths."

"No," growled Artie, "but you've been messing with them."

"Hey, I have not been messing with them. Much."

"Artie!" called Myka.

On the Farnsworth screen, Artie turned his attention back to Pete and Myka. "I don't know who you are, or how you hacked into the Farnsworths—"

"What?"

"—but I'm going to find you. Rest assured."

"Someone hacked into the Farnsworths?" asked Claudia. Her face appeared in the screen over Artie's shoulder. "Not likely."

"Artie, stop messing around," pleaded Myka. "You're freaking me out."

Claudia's fingers grew large as she messed with knobs on the Farnsworth just below the screen on her end. "I don't think they're hacking in, Artie."

"It's us!" Pete said. "Pete and Myka? We didn't hack anything. We have our own Farnsworth."

"Impossible!" said Artie.

"How else would we be talking to you on one, Artie? Do we look like we could hack anything to you? Claudia's the hacker. Not us. By the way, nice hair, Claudia. All black, huh? Very emo. I like."

"Pete," said Myka, "the road."

"Thanks," said Claudia, pleased. "Thought I'd try out something new." Then, "Okay, this is too weird. Do you know me? Do you know us?"

Artie shook his head. "I will find you. Whoever you two are—"

"Hold up, gramps," said Claudia, "let's just let them explain who they are before we throw them off our lawn, okay?"

"Thank you, Claudia," said Pete. And to Myka, "This must be Fuller. Somehow he got to our records. He's even gotten to Artie and Claudia."

"It doesn't make any sense, Pete," she replied. "Fuller may have been near all the incidents here, but he couldn't have been anywhere close to the Warehouse to use an artifact on Artie or Claudia."

"What do you know about the Warehouse?" demanded Artie. "Exactly how much do you know?"

"What do we know about the Warehouse, Artie?" said Pete. "We're Warehouse agents. Why do you think we're calling you? Why do you think we have a Farnsworth? How else could we know you and Claudia? And Mrs. Frederic! Mrs. Frederic hired us both. She'll tell you. And Leena—"

"Pete." Myka urged him back on track with her eyes.

"Alright, alright," said Artie. "Let's just say you're telling the truth. Hypothetically," he emphasized into the Farnsworth. "Tell me everything that's happened to you. Have you come into contact with anything strange or unusual. Do you smell—"

"No fudge, Artie," said Pete. "Look, we know what we're doing."

"We got a ping," said Myka. "Berkeley, California. A man here was chased by a crowd because they believed that he was a robot sent to Earth by aliens and that there was a bomb concealed inside of him. Sounds crazy, I know. And then he actually exploded."

"So we came to Berkeley," said Pete.

"Again. We'd just been in Berkeley getting R.J. Reynolds's Glass Ashtray. We found it in a thrift store here. But you said Berkeley again was just a coincidence."

"No, no," said Artie from the Farnsworth, "It's never just a coincidence."

"That's what I said!" Myka replied happily.

"Except when it is just coincidence." Artie waved a hand. "Go on."

"Next," said Pete, "a guy thinks he's taking out androids, but he's actually shooting people."

Myka continued, "Then, just now at a mall, the police arrest a guy for killing two people before it happens. They were there waiting right where they knew he'd be and stopped him from doing it."

"Holy Philip K. Dick, Batman," said Claudia.

"Right?!" Pete grinned. "We figured it out, too, Claud. Minority Report. Bladerunner."

"Precisely, Boy Wonder. And that first one, the one that caused the ping, is a short story called, Impostor."

"Yeah, we know," said Pete. "They're all movies."

"And now it's Flow My Tears," she continued.

"Flow my what now?"

"Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said."

"Never heard of that movie."

"It's not a movie, it's another one of PKD's novels. The main character is this world-famous television celebrity, like Ryan Seacrest with a plus-ten charisma modifier, until one day he wakes up and his entire life has been totally erased. Like he never existed. No one remembers him. There's no record of him anywhere."

"Is that us, Pete?" asked Myka. "Are we the ones that have been whammied? Not Artie and Claudia, but us? Have we been erased?"

"So what's the artifact?" Pete asked. He and Myka exchanged looks with Artie and Claudia. No one had an answer.

"Berkeley, California makes sense, though," said Claudia. "Philip Dick grew up there. He went to high school in Berkeley, and he lived around there for years. Man, this is so gnarly."

"Okay," said Myka. "So what do we know? All of the people affected by the artifact experience something from a Philip K. Dick story. Chambers was affected, and he exploded. Steven Pouty was affected, he thought he was hunting androids. The guy at the mall was arrested for a crime he hadn't committed—"

"Pre-crime," said Claudia.

"Right. And now we're affected."

"Mykes, the effect seemed to wear off the others after a while, right? I mean, the witnesses who saw Chambers as a robot with a bomb realized after that they'd been mistaken. And after Pouty was arrested, he knew that he'd been shooting people, not androids."

"That's right," she agreed. "We don't know about the guy arrested at the mall, but it's possible the effect on him or the arresting officers will wear off too."

"Which means, maybe it will wear off us?"

"Alright," said Artie. "Listen. For now, we're still not sure what the artifact, whatever it is, even does exactly. Where are you now?"

"On the road."

"You should check in with the Berkeley PD. Find out if this pre-crime effect that helped them stop that suspect at the mall from killing before he actually killed anyone, if that effect is still active."

Pete and Myka shared a look.

"What?" said Artie, noticing. "What is it?"

"Small problem there, Artie."

"I might have Tesla-ed one of the police officers," admitted Myka. "And then punched another one out."

"One punch knockout?" asked Claudia, eyes wide.

"Can confirm," said Pete. "The lady punches pretty hard."

"Alright then. Find somewhere to lie low, a motel or something," said Artie, grumbling. "I don't know. Give Claudia and I time to look into it on this end." He stared directly into the Farnsworth. "Pete. Myka." He said their names as though trying out the sound of them. "We'll figure something out."

"We know you will, Artie," said Myka. "Thank you."

"Hey, Claud," said Pete. "How do you know so much about Philip K. Dick anyway?"

"When I was in the psych—" She quickly snapped her mouth shut. "Research. Psych . . . ology research department. As a student. At school. When I was a student—"

"It's okay, Claud, we know you were in a psychiatric hospital for a while."

"You do?"

Pete nodded. "Yep."

"Okay, that's a little disconcerting. I don't know anything horrifyingly embarrassing about you. Anyways, I read everything the guy ever wrote while I was in there. In the, uh, psych hospital. I mean, you spend time in one of those, PKD is practically required reading."

"We'll figure something out," Artie reiterated, leaning forward. "Stay in touch."

The Farnsworth screen went dark.

# # #

"I can't believe Artie doesn't know who we are." Pete stood at the window of their motel room, peering out into the parking lot and to the street beyond.

"I can't believe they didn't have any rooms with two beds," said Myka. "I call dibs, Pete." She pushed down on the mattress, testing the stiffness. The springs squeaked. She peered at a spot on the comforter and pulled her hands away. "On second thought, you can have the bed."

"We have to assume they'll be looking for the rental. It's parked out of sight around back, but one of us should keep an eye peeled, just in case."

"I was right, by the way, Pete."

"About what?"

"About the artifact. It was Philip K. Dick stories, not just movies."

"Well, when we get this all sorted out, I'll make sure Artie gives you a gold star."

Myka laughed, but stopped short. Frowning, she put a hand to her head.

"What is it, Mykes?" Pete came over. "You alright?"

"Yeah, just . . . I've had a headache for a little while now. What did you just say?"

Pete grinned. "I said I'd have Artie give you a gold star."

"No, before that."

"Before that?" Pete tossed his head back, remembering, "Let's see, I said they might be tracking the rental, so—"

"That's right. I don't think Captain Fuller liked us much, and that was before I punched him out and Tesla-ed his buddy. They'll be looking for us for sure."

"Agreed," said Pete. "Well then, we'll take shifts. One of us sleeping, the other on watch."

"I don't like just sitting here, hiding, Pete."

"I don't either, but Artie and Claud will figure something out. They just need some time to work."

Rubbing her temples, Myka nodded. "Alright, then. I'll take first watch. You get some rest."

"You look tired, Mykes. Why don't I take first watch?"

"No, Pete. I need to think all of this through again. I won't be able to sleep. You go ahead."

She watched as he kicked off his shoes, then went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. A minute later, he returned. Stood at the side of the bed and jumped onto it, landing back first. He grunted. "I think a spring just stabbed me in the kidney."

She turned away from the bed smiling, went to the window and pulled back the curtain to look outside.

"Hey, Mykes."

"Hmm?"

"Everything's gonna be alright, okay?"

She turned her head towards Pete. Felt herself nodding. "I know."

# # #

SOMEWHERE IN SOUTH DAKOTA

WAREHOUSE 13

Claudia scrolled through the list on her tablet one final time, and then satisfied, turned off the small screen. "That is every last one of you sad, lonely artifacts. Accounted for. Safe and sound. None of you acting up or causing trouble." She stopped beside Emily Dickinson's Bedroom Window. Pointed at the wood and glass artifact resting quietly on the shelf. "All except you. Troublemaker."

She could just make out her own red hair and pale face reflected in the glass. Unable to help herself, she squinted and leaned in slightly closer. Like before, the window seemed to show not the items on the shelf behind it like it should, but the dim shadowy outline of a room somewhere else. Hints of shapes that seemed to suggest a small room, a single bed. And two figures, people.

"Oh no you don't!" Jerking away, Claudia held her finger up in warning towards the window, which now sat quiet and normal.

She opened the Farnsworth and contacted Artie.

The Farnsworth buzzed a couple of times before the screen flashed on and Artie's face appeared. He squinted up at Claudia. "Oh, it's you."

"Nice to see you, too. Who were you expecting?"

"I was hoping Pete and Myka."

"Pete and Myka?"

"Yes. They should be here. They haven't checked in. They aren't answering their Farnsworth or their cellphones."

"Do you think they're in trouble?"

"I'm a worrier, Claudia. I always think everyone is in trouble. Yes! I think something has happened. Something not good."

Her eyes flicked over to the Window. "Relax, Artie. Pete's probably just showing Myka his comic collection at the B&B and they lost track of time."

"Uh-huh." Unconvinced, Artie frowned. "You're all done I take it? Hurry up and get back here to the office."

"Aye, aye, Captain. I'm almost finished. One more thing to do."

"Claudia—"

"Ok, see ya soon, bye!"

She snapped her Farnsworth closed and faced the Window.

Letting out a nervous breath, she approached the glass. Her reflected self drew closer and closer. She reached out and gripped the frame of the window, and the image on the glass quickly morphed into the same shadowy room she'd seen a moment earlier. A small room, with the rectangular shape of a bed in the center. Two people, familiar shapes.

As she stared longer, the image cleared, crystallized. Became real. She was there with them. Pete and Myka. And they were in trouble! Even as she watched, first Myka and then Pete began to shake and convulse. Myka sprawled out on the floor, stopped moving. Pete crawled towards her, then was overcome by whatever nastiness was affecting him. He pitched onto his side, shuddering, and was still.

Concentrating every ounce of her will, Claudia pulled back, away from the image. Felt herself pop free of the Window's grip, as if being sucked back into concrete reality. For a moment, she trembled, catching her breath and reorienting to being back in the Warehouse, in the Aisle of Lonely Souls. Then she pulled her Farnsworth out once again. It was buzzing.

"Claudia," Artie growled, "don't you dare look into the Window again! It's dangerous. I forbid it. Do you—"

"You're right. Pete and Myka are in trouble."

"What?" Artie sputtered. "How do you know that? What do you know?"

"Pete and Myka, Artie. They're in trouble. Artifact trouble." She began walking quickly.

"Claudia, I told you. The Window's image is twisted. It shows the people you care about, but it shows them in pain, dying."

"But the initial image. It's accurate, isn't it? The Window shows reality first, before it twists it." Moving swiftly, she left the Aisle of Lonely Souls behind.

Artie opened his mouth, closed it. Ran a hand over his chin. "It's possible, Claudia, yes. Maybe. But—"

"Then we've gotta get to them, Artie. They need our help." She paused, glancing around at unfamiliar shelves. "And I'm lost. How do I get back to the office?"