Note: This was supposed to be posted 3 weeks ago, but I couldn't stop writing. It might be my longest chapter. It's 3:41 am. And I've been edited and rewriting for two freekin days. If anyone finds typos or inconsistencies, I'll deal with them later. Because If I have to look at this a minute more, I'll go insane! ;-) - BH
Alive
Book 2
Pt24
1
"There!" Wizzy blurted, gesturing wildly towards something poking up from the carpet of greenery that scrolled by beneath them. David looked ahead and saw the roof of an old building breaking through the canopy of the forest. An unexpected mix of emotions rose at the sight. He hadn't seen this place in years. And never from this perspective.
"That's it," Wizzy said, softer, a hint of nostalgia coming into her voice. Something else was there too. Something dark, that he didn't understand.
He dimmed the thrusters and let the Stratocruiser slowly descend. When the roof was in clear view, he leveled off and hovered, scrutinizing the dilapidated structure in his monitor. He flipped his scanner to infrared. Nothing was revealed but small crawling things that were scampering around the ruin. But that wouldn't help him see if anyone… or anything… might be inside.
He looked away from the monitor and viewed the place as he flew a few loops overhead. The tree line seemed to have diminished since he'd last been here. He was certain that, when he'd lived here, it wasn't visible from above. And it looked as if someone had cleared some of the brush that had once obscured it from the old broken roadways that wound through the woodland.
"Was there a fire out here?" he said. It was a somewhat rhetorical question, because as he descended closer he could see holes had been burnt in the roof, and that the building's walls had been scorched. A gray layer of ash now lay beneath the leaves and dust that had gathered in the old courtyard; the place where he'd made the first real friends in his Orga life.
He heard Wizzy sigh and turned to see that look on her face again, the one he'd caught a glimpse the last time she'd spoken of Sy. It was a rare look for her.
"What's on your mind?" he said.
"Home," she whispered.
David hummed a sympathetic acknowledgement. He understood all too well the power of that word. Home. Such emotion it carried. The sound of it fueled the fire that drove his heart as well.
But this was not his home. His memories of this place were conflicted; both dark and light at the same time. He did not, could not, share the love for it that Wizzy felt. But here is where he'd met her. And that, at least, was a warm recollection.
"You ready for this?" he said.
Wizzy was uncharacteristically unresponsive for a moment. Then she set a look on David, one that let him know her moody introspections were over. She was all about 'the business' now.
"Pass it here," she said, holding out her hand.
David screwed up his face in confusion. Then he understood.
"Um, I think it's better I hold on to it," he replied.
An amused expression came into her face and David sensed a jab coming on.
"You ever actually use one of those?" she said. "Because I ain't gonna risk getting a beat down when you can't find the cajones to pull the trigger."
David was going to point out that he'd seen his fair share of action and had dispensed as much violence as he'd received. But he realized it would do no good. She wanted it. She was gonna get it, in the end. And he had to admit that she had a point. Between the two of them, she was the more experienced at playing rough. And hadn't she saved his butt in Rouge City?
He sighed as he reached into his belt and passed her the Neutralizer.
"Stun only," he said, a stern look on his face. "And only if you need to."
As he'd expected Wizzy chuckled dismissively, tucking the weapon beneath her coat, which had darkened to match the shade of his cockpit seats. She slipped on her shades, pulled her hair back and took a deep breath.
"Your toy ready?" she said, gazing at him from behind the dark of her glasses.
David glanced over his shoulder, into the cargo hold behind the seat.
"It's not a toy," he said, as he dimmed the thrusters and let the Stratocruiser descend into the courtyard.
2
It had been Hobby's turn to speak, the day before, just after Wizzy told him about Martin. But the man couldn't seem to find the words. He'd been sitting at his desk, eyes closed, hands placed together and pressed to his mouth, as if in prayer. But David knew he was just thinking.
Wizzy's revelation had obviously been a lot to take, and Hobby seemed as if he was trying to fit the pieces together in his brain. Either that or he was hiding something, David hadn't been sure which.
"Well?" David said, urgency in his tone. The exclamation broke Hobby from his introspection. The man ran a hand over his balding scalp, giving David an irritated glance.
"And you're certain it was him?" he said, casting a skeptical look at Wizzy. She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side, glaring at Hobby as if he'd just insulted her.
"Nah, I just made this up shit to impress Porkchop," she replied.
"What?" Hobby said, confused.
"She's being sarcastic," David said, shooting her an irritated look.
"That I could tell," Hobby said. "But, who's Porkchop?"
"Nevermind," David sighed. "C'mon Wizzy. Quit screwing around."
He punched her on the shoulder, just hard enough to let her know this was serious. She glared at him, but finally uncrossed her arms.
"Yes, it was him," she said. "That guy who just left, Martin or whoever. He was running with those Crash monkeys that worked for Olmier. I've seen him with 'em. More than once, actually."
"Dreven Olmier?" Hobby said. "The businessman?"
"Dreven Olmier the crook," Wizzy replied, impatiently. "You're smart enough to build all these damned talking machines, but you can't see through that guy's act? He's nuthin but a high-tailed thug."
Hobby fell silent again, staring hard at Wizzy. David knew the man's mind was working, but on just what, he couldn't tell. He felt a burning desire to ask about his sacred statue, about what Hobby had planned for it. But now was not the time.
"Olmier's exploits are no secret to me," Hobby said. "But what you're proposing goes beyond petty crimes." He thought for a moment, his eyes suspicious.
"So, what were you doing with those 'Crash monkeys' yourself?" he said.
David stepped forward to interject
"I already explained all this!" he yelled. "She's not the problem here. Martin is involved in this and we need to-"
"Hold on!" Hobby interrupted, holding up his hand to silence David. "I remember what you said about your time with Sy. Ok? But this is different. She's about to accuse Martin of a serious crime here. I want to hear how she knows that."
He turned his attention back to the girl, and the two exchanged icy looks before Wizzy finally surrendered with a sigh.
"I was following them," she admitted. "Been scoping 'em out ever since I got back after the Nexus thing went down."
"Why?" Hobby said. "What part do you play in all this?"
Wizzy glanced back and forth between David and Hobby a few times. David hissed between his teeth, a sound that suggested it was too late for secrets anymore.
"We did jobs for Olmier," she said, dropping her head as if embarrassed by the admission. "I mean, back in the day…. With Sy. My Dad. Olmier hooked us up with a few gigs after the Rouge City thing, the one where Porkchop… I mean, where David escaped.
"But that man is wild. He started pushing Sy into some crazy shit. Started dragging Crashies and newbie brats from the burbs into the crew. Wanted Sy to use 'em. Said they were clean…. you know, no criminal record… and hungry for side money. But Sy didn't want no part of it, and sent them all away.
"I do remember one of those burb brats, though. And I seen that same kid again, not too long ago. About a week maybe. After I got back."
She paused then, an annoyed look on her face.
"So what are we calling this guy?" she said. "Is it gonna be Ice or Martin, or what?"
"Martin will do," Hobby replied, a sad note in his voice
"Well, Martin then," she replied. "He was hanging with the Crashies. And I can guarantee they were up to no good."
"Where?" Hobby said. "Where did you see him and what were you doing with them?"
"I wasn't with 'em!" Wizzy yelled, her anger flaring quickly. But it faded just as fast when she caught the recriminating look in David's eyes. She took a breath to compose herself.
"I - wasn't - with - them," she said, softer, punctuating each word. "Like I said, I been scoping 'em. So I could learn all their sites and scams. They got this place where they meet."
"Club 101," David said.
"No," Wizzy said, casting a strange knowing look on David. "It's a house…. in an old run down neighborhood. Lots of vags and wire-heads shack out there."
Hobby moaned, and cupped his head in his hands.
"Oh, please don't tell me he's into that," he moaned.
"I don't think this is about juicing your brain on current," David said, casting a hard look at the girl. She returned the look with a smile that was almost a taunt. It seemed to say 'I know more than you think I do.'
A realization hit him. If Wizzy knew about Club 101 and the secret meeting house, then she had to know about Animal. Had she been following him too?
He remembered how Myron had known about her; that she was really a girl when most thought her a boy. And he remembered her cryptic remarks about the Trinary Directive, when he had tried to pretend he didn't know anything about it. What else was she aware of? And why was she playing games? But again, now was not the time to confront her.
It appeared that Hobby had noticed the tight looks between David and Wizzy. But this was just something else he couldn't seem to make sense of. He leaned back and placed his hands, palms down, on the desk. It was one of his signature gestures. It meant 'no more bs.'
"Why did you come back here, Tamara?" he said.
It seemed as if she was ignoring him at first. She continued to stare at David, some indecipherable communication in their eyes. Then she turned to face Hobby.
"My father wasn't a good man, I know that," she said. "He built a hard rep because he needed to. 'Southwood Sy. The man you don't want to cross.' But it was all a carefully constructed myth. He'd smack heads when he needed to. Porckchop can attest to that. But he never crossed the line. He never really hurt anyone. And he didn't deserve…"
Her voice hitched suddenly, and she stopped talking. She was quiet for a time, her gaze lost on some dark recollection. Hobby seemed to understand the depth of her emotion and allowed the silence. When she finally turned her attention back to him, there was something fierce in her eyes.
"Somebody gonna pay," she said. "I came back to find out who that is."
3
David stepped out of the Stratocruiser, setting his foot on the same ground where he had long ago learned what it took to survive in a calloused world.
The place had clearly been scorched by flame, but it could not have been very recently. New growth had already replaced the brush that had been burnt. A vibrant layer of fresh green coated the blackened areas. The air was cool, a hint of the coming autumn, and the sky was overcast, so everything was cloaked in a hue of brooding gray.
And it was quiet. Eerily quiet. So quiet that when a fallen branch snapped under David's weight, the sound seemed to reverberate all around the courtyard.
He froze, eyeing the old building cautiously, half expecting the gang to come rushing out to see who had invaded their territory. He imagined their surprised faces; their voices raised in shock… and then joy.
'Porkchop? What the hell, man! Where you been? … Wizzy? Omg! Is that you?'
But there was only the thick silence, and the faint smell of old ashes carried on the breeze. Their hide-out was just a burnt-out husk now. And his friends were long gone.
He wondered what became of them; the Lost Boys of the sunken world. They'd done what they had to, trying to survive in the socio-economic void created by the man-made disaster of climate change; and the greed and political cowardice that had thwarted attempts to stop it.
By the time society finally came to its senses, it was already too late.
But would the lives of his outcast brethren have been any different if the seas had never risen? The long history of humanity's indifference to the suffering of the young suggested not.
"How could you be a witness to the end, and not act? How will you look your child in the eyes and tell them their future wasn't worth fighting for?"
David had spoken so softly that Wizzy wasn't sure he'd spoken at all. She stepped up beside him, and the two stood in the silence, staring at the old building.
"What was that?" she said.
"Nothing really," David replied in a whisper. "Just the words of a Native American teenager named Xiuhtezcatl. He lived before all this happened."
"All what?" Wizzy asked.
David fanned his arms, seeming to gesture to the overgrown forest all around them. Wizzy scanned the area, not sure what he was referring to.
"The woods?" she said, genuinely confused.
"No," David replied, looking at her impatiently. "The rising oceans. The drowning cities. The child restrictions. The dwindling food supplies. The deaths of millions of people.… all of it."
"Oh," Wizzy said, nodding her head thoughtfully. She looked away a moment, seemingly unsure what to say about David's sudden gray mood.
"Was he was a singer or something?" she said. "Like that guy you played last night?"
"A rapper actually," David replied. "And a climate activist. He was just a kid when he started, going around to events and rapping about the pending disaster. He was the youngest person to ever address the United Nations… no wait."
David paused for a moment, thinking.
"Actually the youngest person was a 10 year old girl," he said. "Can't recall her name right now, but Xiuhtezcatl was one of the youngest anyway. Ever hear of him?"
"Nah," Wizzy replied, dismissively "I don't listen to that old stuff."
"Well, somebody should have," David said.
Something moved in the dark doorway ahead of them. They both took an involuntary step back, crouching as to prepare for a fight. But it was only a little field mouse that scampered out from the ruin and dashed across the courtyard, disappearing into the new growth of brush that surrounded the place. They both relaxed, but neither approached the building.
"You afraid of ghosts or something?" she said, without looking at him.
"I don't believe in ghosts," David whispered back, still watching the shadows that lie in the burnt out corridors of the old building.
"Really?" Wizzy replied. "After that crazy story you told me last night, I figured you'd believe anything."
It was the first time she'd mentioned it all day. The conversation from the night before was still hanging between them, a silent presence that she would have to deal with in her own way… in her own time. He wasn't going to rush her.
"That wasn't a ghost story," he replied. "And if it is…. Well, then ghosts are nothing to fear."
"Alright, so we're not afraid," she said, crossing her arms and casting an impatient look at David. "Then what're we waiting for?"
David turned and walked back to the Stratocruiser. He crawled in and leaned over the seat. A sleeping 500 lay in the cargo hold, folded up like a newborn. He reached down and pressed his fingers against the soft spot at the seat of its cranium, and held them there until the Mecha jerked into consciousness.
It took the boy-bot a minute to boot, longer than usual due to the modifications he'd made the night before. Then it looked up at him with an unassuming smile.
"Hey, coach!" the 500 yelled excitedly, trying to sit up in the cramped space. "Ready to get your butt kicked again?"
"Shhh," David hissed. "Lock vox comm at conversation mode .. actually, make that whisper mode."
The 500 looked away for a second, resetting its gain. Then it managed to get into an upright position and smiled up at David.
"Sorry," it whispered. "Can we play now?"
"No baseball today, buddy" David replied, apologetically. "We're gonna play a new game. You'll like it. It's called 'Hide and Seek'."
4
Amanda was chewing slowly, purposefully; her eyes repeatedly flitting towards the strange new creature David had brought into her world, and then quickly back to her plate. Wizzy was pretending to not notice the scrutiny, humming as she dove ravenously into her meal.
"Mmmm, tis mif mo eeeelisis," she mumbled through a mouthful. She made a big show of swallowing, then said "Sooo, daaayum delicious," when she could speak clearly again.
Amanda shot an annoyed glance at David. He shrugged back at her, somehow managing to not smile. Later, when they were alone, she would tear into him for putting her in this awkward position, he knew that. But, for now, he was having too much fun watching her discomfort to be concerned about the inevitable scolding.
They'd been in the cafeteria, eating their first decent meal of the day. Hobby had already sent an encrypted communication to all Cybertronics outlets that they should report to him if Martin was seen around their premises. He'd also sent word to Jenna West to keep an eye on the boy. But he did not send notice of his suspicions to Henry. Not that he suspected the man, but because Henry might confront his son about the accusation. The less Martin knew about what they knew, the better advantage they had in figuring out what he'd been up to.
Whatever else Hobby was doing behind the scenes, David did not know. There was too much going on to be detoured by matters that could he could do nothing about. And he had yet to decipher the odd way Wizzy had eyed him when she'd revealed her knowledge of Animal's secret CJ house. That would come out in her own time. So, at this point there was wasn't much he could do but eat, and wait for word from Jenna.
He'd known the meal would be awkward, especially since it would be just he and the girls. There had been no time to take Amanda aside and explain who Wizzy was, and what she meant to him. And the confrontation that was blossoming between the girls was something he had insufficient experience in dealing with. So, he'd chosen a large booth, and took a place between them… just in case things got out of hand.
Amanda ran with the finge-kids and could handle herself in that social circle. But Wizzy was something new to her, someone from an alien realm, where fun and danger were often indistinguishable. And he had to admit to himself, he was taking no small pleasure in Mandy's fumbling acclimation process.
"Um… so, it's Mandy, right?" Wizzy said, as she cleaned the last of her meal off her plate with a slice of 'roti' bread, and gulped it down.
Amanda looked at her with a smile that was somehow sweet and vicious at the same time.
"Ah-man-da," she replied, spitting out the syllables like bullets. "David already introduced us. Remember?"
Wizzy didn't skip a beat.
"Ok, Ah-man-duh," she said. "Can you pass the, umm… what's that stuff called again?"
"That 'stuff' is called Kaprao," Mandy replied, evenly. "It's Thai dish."
"Crapo?" Wizzy blurted, pretending to be shocked.
David snickered into his hand. Mandy turned a scorching gaze in his direction. She was no longer smiling.
"Is something funny, mister?" she said.
"She's just messin' with you, Mandy," David said. He turned mock look of scolding on Wizzy. "Chill on that… Please."
Wizzy shrugged innocently, pouting as if she had been the victim of some casual injustice.
"I just wanted more of that Crapo, or whatever it's called," she said.
"It's Kaparo," Mandy corrected, quickly. "And it's right there! You can reach it!"
"Yessss, I could," Wizzy admitted with a thoughtful sigh. "But then I'd be reaching across your man. And I can tell by that look on your face, you don't like it when-"
"He's not my man!" Amanda shouted, cutting Wizzy off. Her voice was so loud it alerted the Mecha waiter stationed at the end of the aisle. It rose and started in their direction, but David waved it away.
"Mandy," he moaned, shaking his head. But she was looking away, her expression equal parts embarrassment and anger. He turned to Wizzy.
"Stop it," he said, and passed her the bowl of Kaparo. "We've got more important things to deal with than… than whatever is going on here."
Wizzy smiled as she scooped more of the food onto her plate.
"Look, Mandy or Ah-man-da, or whatever you want me to call you," Wizzy said as she set the bowl back in the center of the table. "I am going to have to be completely honest with you."
"What an honor," Amanda replied, quickly. "Honesty must be rare for you. I'm flattered you chose me for this special occasion."
Wizzy just chuckled.
"Touche'" she said. "But now I want you to listen real careful to what I am about to say … a'cause I don't want any misunderstanding between us. Ok?"
Amanda crossed her arms, jaws clenched, brows narrowed on the girl.
"Wizzy," David moaned, shaking his head, staring at the girl with an expression that said 'don't!' But Wizzy ignored the look and leaned back.
"I just wanted to telllll youuuu," she started, drawing her words out. She paused then, for dramatic effect, fanning her fingers and pretending to check her nails. "That ever since I met you… I have noticed… thaaaat…" she held up her finger, as if she might be pointing out something on the ceiling.
Then she suddenly leaned towards Amanda.
"That your hair is working, girl! Seriously. I mean like superstar."
Mandy cocked her head side to the side, gazing at Wizzy in confusion, as if she'd been speaking an unknown foreign tongue.
"Come, again," she said.
"Your hair," Wizzy repeated as she sat back and started digging into her meal again. "Looks good. Not many people could make that shade work. What's it called?"
Mandy eyed her suspiciously for a moment. She glanced at David, but he just held up his hands in a 'don't ask me' gesture.
"There is more to heaven and earth than in my philosophy," he said.
Amanda rolled her eyes and turned back to Wizzy, tapping her fingers on the table as she considered her response.
"Bluetasia," she said, finally. "It's a Flavy Rocks joint."
"Wow," Wizzy said, seeming to be genuinely impressed. "You must be in deep pocket to afford Flavy. That's costly gloss."
Mandy relaxed and twirled one of her braids in her hand, staring at Wizzy as if she was deciding whether or not to continue in this friendlier tone.
"Well, the cheap stuff thins you out," she said, when her decision was made. "I play with different shades a bit, so can't afford to put any old crap on my head. Flavy uses a lot of organics in their mix, so…"
She stopped then and sat up, clucking her tongue.
"You're playing me," she said, a knowing smirk on her face.
"A little bit," Wizzy admitted, after swallowing another mouthful. "But I really do think you're working that shade. That was sincere. You're cute, honey. And you got style. I admit."
Amanda fidgeted a bit, trying to pretend the compliment had not affected her.
Wizzy slapped her head then, as if she'd had an epiphany.
"You know what would look crunch?" she exclaimed, scooping up her coat, which she had laid across the back of the booth. "Check this out," she said, tossing the coat across the table.
Mandy caught it, still watching Wizzy skeptically. When she didn't see any trick in the girl's eyes, she examined the fabric.
"Color fluid?" she said.
"Yup," Wizzy said, scooping up the last of the Kaparo on her plate.
Amanda examined the coat indecisively.
"Well, it's nice, but a little 'yesterday', if you know what I mean," she said. "No offense, but nobody really wears this stuff anymore."
"Oh, you never seen one like this," Wizzy said, seeming unfazed by Mandy's dismissive comment. "That off the shelf crap came with presets. I modified this one myself. That's no cheap polymer blend. Won't go brittle after a few months. And check this out; put it against your head and press that little button on the inside pocket."
Mandy hesitated again.
"Go on," Wizzy sighed. "It ain't gonna explode."
Mandy finally relented and pressed the lip of the collar to her hair. When she squeezed the toggle on the inner pocket, the coat suddenly shifted to the exact shade of her 'Bluetasia' dye. She hummed, impressed with the display.
"Wow," David said, eyeing Wizzy with surprise. "You did that?"
"Wizzy's short for Whiz Kid, remember?" she replied with a wink.
Amanda began playing with the coat, pressing it against the booth seat to make it match the burgundy color; then against the table to make it match the simulated polished wood grain.
"Ok, that's clever, I'll give you that," she said.
"And I'll gladly take it," Wizzy replied, pressing back into the cushions of the booth and rubbing her stomach with a long satisfied hum.
"And now, about 'playing you'" she continued, "You're right. I was… I mean, I am. Kind'a. But it looks like we're gonna be stuck on the same crazy train for a while, and I'd rather us get along than be trying to throw each other over-board all the time. Wouldn't you agree?"
David looked at Mandy hopefully. She frowned back at him, skepticism playing across her face. Then she turned to Wizzy.
"Fair enough," she said. "In spite of your mixed-metaphor, I accept your offering of peace, strange woman from an unknown planet. But I think a little quid-pro-quo is required to seal our truce. So, tell me this..."
Amanda leaned forward on her elbows, cupping her head in her hands, eyes darting back and forth between Wizzy and David. Her conspiratorial posture caused them to lean forward too. Then she spoke in a stage whisper.
"What the hell were you two talking with Alan about after the rest of us left the room?"
David hadn't seen this coming. By the look on Wizzy's face, she hadn't either. They eyed each other wordlessly as Amanda began tapping her fingers on the table.
"The truth will be a lot easier than whatever lie you're about to tell," she said.
She turned her sparkling smile at David.
"Or, to put it another way, 'He whose tongue speaks false, doesn't truly speak. And he who speaks not truly, lies,' she said. "See? I got some Bard too, smartass"
"Well played," David replied. He knew that if there was anyone who shouldn't be trusted with the information on Martin, it was Amanda. But telling her nothing would only provoke her more.
"Mandy," he began. "Ummm…"
That's as far as he got. He really didn't know what to say. He thought it would be a real good time for one of his desperation-inspired Orga lies, or maybe one of those deus-ex-machina moments that only happen in haphazardly constructed fan-fictions.
"What are you three conspiring?" came a loud voice.
The sound made them all jump. They looked up to see Jenna West approaching the table, clad in her form-fitting black, arms crossed, watching them with that typical adult expression that said, 'I don't know what you kids are up to, but I already don't like it.'
"Jenna," David said, excitedly, rising from the table. "Did you find anything?"
Jenna cast a suspicious gaze around the table before she uncrossed her arms, revealing a booklet she was holding in her hand. She tossed it on the table.
"No," she said, a cryptic smirk on her face. "Couldn't find a thing. So, obviously, I could never have given you something I never found."
She winked then, and started walking away. But she stopped suddenly, and turned to set a stern look on them.
"You kids stay off-line for now, until we can assure that 101's snoops have been purged from our servers. Read a book or something…. And David; that thing I never gave you? It never leaves your room."
She resumed her exit then, snatching a croissant from the buffet table before she passed through the door.
David snatched up the booklet that Jenna had never given him. It was bound in a clear plastic cover and the first page was blank, except a few numbers in the corner. He turned to the first page. A bold header read:
'Familiar Technologies: Annual Shareholders Report.'
"Jenna, you're a wizard," David whispered to himself.
"Hey," Amanda said. "Quid pro quo?"
But David didn't quite hear her…. or did hear her, and didn't quite care. On the second page, at the bottom of a long list of the intended recipients of the report, he saw a name he was hoping he might to find:
"D. L. Olmier", he read aloud.
"Helloooo?" Amanda said. "Earth to David!
"L?" he pondered.
"We aren't exactly finished here!" she yelled.
"Sorry, Earth, but you're breaking up" David replied as he started flipping through the pages, a grin breaking on his face. "Please try again later."
5
The screen went blank again.
"Dammit!" David hissed. Wizzy chuckled.
"No swearing," she said, a mock look of reproach in her eyes. "The kid can hear you."
David did his best to not laugh.
"Not much signal out here," he explained. He walked a few feet to his right and the screen came back to life. But all he could see was grey blurs. He realized the 500 must be staring at a blank wall. To control it remotely, he'd overridden its internal motivators. So, without his navigation the boy bot had just kept walking forward, until it ran into a wall. Then it just stood there, staring ahead.
David manipulated the keys and turned the 500 around. A darkened hallway came into view. The walls were scorched and sagging where fire-fighting drones must have doused the place. Pies of debris and large chunks of burnt wood, fallen from the ceiling, crisscrossed the floor ahead.
"He's in the main hallway," David said. He turned the laptop so Wizzy could see as he remotely led the 500 past the room where Nance had removed the bad tooth that had introduced him to the pain of Orga life. He stopped the 500 by the doorway and looked inside. The old dental chair was gone. And the room was covered in soot and ash.
He thought about Nance, and wondered whatever happened to her.
Wizzy sighed loudly, breaking him from his thoughts.
"No time for nostalgia, Porchop," she said. "Move it to the elevator."
David put aside his question and steered the 500 down the dark hallway where, years ago, Nance had first told him about Wizzy's secret.
"It's gone" he said, when he saw the damage to the walls and the corroded elevator door hanging open.
"Try the stairs," Wizzy replied, quickly.
"Stairs?" David said. "I never knew there were any-"
"Because Sy didn't want you guys to know," Wizzy interrupted. "Just go back down the hall and follow it all the way to the end."
But when David navigated the 500 down the blackened passageway towards the old staircase, he saw it was burnt through. There was no way to climb.
"Dead end," he said. He turned a skeptical look on Wizzy. "Look, this was a good idea, but there can't be anything left inside this place. That fire must have devoured whatever it is you'd hope we find."
Wizzy didn't reply at first, lost in her thoughts. Then an idea made her brighten.
"Downstairs," she said.
"Down…?" David said. "I didn't know there was a… " He stopped himself. "Oh. Because Sy didn't want us to know, right? Was he holding out on us, or something?"
"Just go back the other way," Wizzy said, impatiently.
David obeyed and led the 500 in the other direction, past Nance's old medical room again, then past a series of old broken doors that led into to scorched offices with sagging ceiling; and on towards a section of the building he'd never seen before.
It was a large room, bordered by blackened walls. A large oval desk sat in its center. He made the 500 approach and saw that broken monitors, dirty and weathered, lined the inside panels. This must have been a security center, he guessed. And at the far end of the room, he could see the wall was actually a large barricade made of roughly cut slips of press board. Shattered glass was scattered all over the floor.
It was a boarded up entrance.
"This was the lobby, wasn't it?" he realized aloud. "It must have been boarded up ages ago."
The place was covered in ash but hadn't been as badly scorched as the rest of the building.
"The fire must have started upstairs," he said. "I wonder who was here. Maybe some of the old crew were still hanging around?"
"Just keep going," Wizzy said, impatiently nudging him on the shoulder.
"What's your hurry," David shot back.
"Because I don't want to still be standing here when the sun goes-"
It was David's turn to interrupt.
"Whoa… what's this?," he said. Wizzy looked at the screen.
In the monitor she saw that David had led the 500 into a corridor that branched off from the old lobby, towards a dark and unknown section of the place. Thin beams of light broke through the dark where the fire had burnt holes in the exterior.
Illuminated in a thin beam of light was double door. It was burnt and padlocked. The faded letters on its scorched surface were barely readable.
"Maintenance," Wizzy read aloud. "That's probably what we're looking for."
"The 500 isn't strong enough to break that lock," David pointed out.
"Then we'll have to," Wizzy replied.
David sighed.
"I was afraid you'd say that," he said.
6
"Crunch" Wizzy said, approvingly.
She was walking about David's living space, hands clasped behind her back like a building inspector. She paused by his window to study the waves that frolicked in the dimming sunlight. The horizon was a fiery shock of red behind the sunken buildings of old Manhattan. It was a majestic sight; one that David had long ago grown accustomed to and now took for granted. But it was all new to her. And she got lost in the view for a few minutes, before she began walking slowly again, taking in her surroundings.
"Definitely crunch," she reiterated. "If I had a place like this I'd never leave home."
She stopped then and cast an irritated looked at David.
"But all that splashing from those damn fountains gets on the nerve pretty quick," she said. "Do they ever turn those things off?"
David hummed an acknowledgement of her question, but was too consumed in his task to respond. Wizzy didn't seem concerned about his distraction though, and continued her inspection. She stopped by his shelves of books and then turned a curious look at him.
"I get it now," she said.
"Get what?" David said, without looking up from what he was doing.
"Why those boy things look like you. Or like you used to look anyway," she said.
David didn't want to talk about this. He kept working, pretending to be absorbed in what he was doing.
"Because your Dad made them like that," she continued, as if talking to herself. "That's nice in a way, I guess. But a little creepy, too. I don't know if I'd want a bunch of little boy bots running around with my face."
David mumbled something indecipherable, to let her know he heard what she said. But he hoped she'd change the subject. He didn't want to incite any questions he didn't have answers for.
Fortunately, Wizzy didn't seem all that interested in the subject either, and changed it herself.
"You actually read all this stuff?" she said, a hint of skepticism in her voice.
David finally looked up from what he was doing.
She was standing by his bookcase, one arm hitched on her hip, the other held out towards the bookcase, as if she was offering him something from the collection. For a moment he was reminded of a picture he'd seen of a Greek statue; a maiden standing in garden, seeming to reach for something out of view. But Wizzy was not made of faded white marble. She was alive. Flesh and blood. Golden brown. And beautiful.
It struck him then, how strange it all was; having her here. Alone.
Mandy had already gone back to the apartment she shared with her father. And he imagined Grace would be coming soon enough, to take Wizzy to one of the empty rooms, where a bed had been made for her. He imagined Grace giving him one of her knowing looks over her shoulder as she led Wizzy away.
But for now, they were together. Again. After so many years. It was almost surreal, this feeling.
"Umm, David?" Wizzy said, curling an eyebrow at him. "I said, did you read all these?"
"Oh, sorry," he replied, coming out of his thoughts. "The books? Nah. I just keep them around to impress chicks. You know how girls love bookworms."
It took her a moment to catch the humor in his eyes. She laughed. It was an earnest and carefree sound, and it made David smile to hear it.
"Chicks?" she scoffed. "Where'd you get that one?"
"Antiquated slang from antiquated books," David said as he started working on the 500 again. He made a few adjustments before he continued.
"But yes, I did read that 'stuff'," he said. "Most of it, anyway. I was sort of trapped inside for a few years after I escaped."
He stopped and looked up at her again.
"When I came here I was still in hiding. I couldn't really go anywhere for a while, so…" He paused a moment to study the readout on his laptop. "So I got into reading quite a bit. And other things. Like this for example."
He tapped the head of the silent 500 he was working on. It was sitting quietly on the couch beside him. The boybot's face was blank and its gaze set on nowhere; its cranium was opened as David made some hasty adjustment inside its head.
Wizzy made a grunt that was neither impressed nor dismissive. David realized that she hadn't been very interested in any of the robotics she'd encountered since she'd arrived.
Except Teddy. She had instantly remembered the Supertoy. It had been sitting on the couch when David brought her into his room, watching them with its curious Mecha gaze. Wizzy had turned to eye David with a look that seemed to say 'seriously?'
"You still have that thing?"she'd said.
David rushed to turn Teddy off, and set it behind the couch, just in case it was still acting as a spy for Hobby.
"It's a long story," he'd said, hoping the blush he felt wasn't visible. He was happy when she'd accepted that response.
But, other than that, she'd really made no comment about the many Mecha she'd encountered here. David pondered this, and then went back to his task.
"What is that?" Wizzy said, pointing towards something that was hanging on the wall. David followed her gesture.
"That's a lute," he replied.
"Of course it is," she said. "And what is a lute?"
"A musical instrument," David explained. "A kind of medieval guitar. That's my old one, though. Don't really use it anymore, since Hobb… since my Dad bought me another."
"You play that?" she asked, impressed. "Play something for me."
David sighed.
"Maybe later," he said. "As you can see, I'm in the middle of something."
Wizzy was silent a thoughtful moment, her eyes roaming between David and the lute hanging on the wall. Then she continued, walking to a shelf that contained a row of hardbound discs.
"And what the hell are these?" she said, sliding one out to study the cover.
"It worked!" David suddenly chortled. He stood quickly, and turned the laptop so that Wizzy could see. On the screen was an image of the room from the 500s point of view.
"Ok?" she said, a question in her eyes. "That should be useful somehow, I guess."
"I also bypassed internal motivators so I can use remote guidance," David explained. "It's like flying my model copter. But this can manipulate things... I mean, I can manipulate things with it. Open doors. Pick stuff up. "
He pressed keys on the laptop and the 500 suddenly stood. He guided the Mecha forward and made it gaze around the room until its eyes were set on Wizzy. David held up the laptop again so she could see herself from the 500s perspective.
"Pretty cool, eh?" he said, excitedly.
"Aaaand?" she said.
"C'mon," David said in frustration. "You know where we're going tomorrow."
Wizzy had come up with the plan. David hadn't initially understood why she wanted to find the old place, and still didn't know what she was hoping to find there. But she'd insisted. She'd sold him on the idea by suggesting they might find something help them deal with 101.
He knew this was really about finding out what happened to Sy. But he'd decided to play along. It was important to her. It was the reason she had come back… or so she said.
"We haven't been to that place in years," he said. "There could CJs hanging out there. The 500 can be a scout."
"Ah, I see," Wizzy replied. Her smile wasn't exactly patronizing, but it wasn't exactly not.
"You know, if any CJ's are there, they'll just tear that little thing to shreds, right?" she said.
David opened his mouth to reply, but realized didn't have anything to say. She had a point.
"Well, I really can't sneak out one of the security bots," he said. "This is all we got."
"Alright," she said suddenly, seeming to change her mind. "It's a good idea. Smart planning. Let's take it along."
David felt like she was patronizing him again, but decided to let it go.
"I'll have the Neutralizer," he said.
Wizzy donned one of those smiles that suggested she was about to say something annoying. But she just held up a disc she had removed from the shelf.
"You were about to explain…?" she said.
"Those are old analog recordings," David explained, as he steered the 500 back to the couch and tossed the laptop beside it. "They're very rare and very expensive, and they scratch very easily. So be careful."
"You mean, there's music on these things?" she said.
"Some of the best," David said. "Classic, pre-digital, twentieth century music. And I can't replace most of them. So like I said, be careful. Please."
"Twentieth century, eh?" Wizzy said, looking thoughtfully at the LP. "How do you play 'em?"
"On the turntable."
"And that is…?"
David strode across the room and took the album from her. The cover was wrinkled and faded, and featured the outline of a man blowing a trumpet, his body bent over as if he was straining to get the note out.
"You probably won't like this one," he said
"How do you know that?" she said, mildly offended. "You think you know my mind, boy?"
"Let's just say post-bee bop, experimental Miles Davis is an acquired taste," he replied. He tucked the album back in its place and stared at his collection, humming as he thought of an artist appropriate for the occasion.
"How about this," Wizzy said, sliding out a disc with a wild splash of colors in the shape of a singing man, on the cover.
"Jimi Hendrix, Electric Lady Land" David said, nodding his head. "A very influential guitarist. But he does get a bit noisy at times."
Wizzy cast him a skeptical look as she slid out another album and showed it to him.
"Stravinsky's 'Le Sacre'," David said. He thought for a moment and then scrunched up his face. "It's a classic, revolutionary, but a bit discordant. The 1912 premiere literally caused a riot. Maybe it's not good for-"
Wizzy slid the album back in before he could finish.
"Do you actually like any of this stuff," she said. "Or is it just rich kid collectors shit?"
"I love all of it," David replied. "Just not all the time."
"What about these guys?" she barked, impatiently, holding up another.
"Ahh, yes," David said. "The Beatles. Magical Mystery Tour. Classic late 1960s. But you've probably heard most those songs before. They're still played on classic rock streams."
Wizzy looked at the cover a moment and then put it back and slid out another.
"So, tell me what's wrong with this one," she said.
David studied the cover.
"Now that… that is a perfect choice," he said.
He took the album from Wizzy and carefully slid it out of the jacket. Then he moved to the end of the bookcase and slid out what looked like a drawer. But Wizzy could see this drawer had an upraised circular area in the center, and a small arm-like device attached to it.
"Sam Cooke was one of the most influential voices of his time," David explained, as he slipped the LP onto the turntable "Singers tried to emulate the rich tone of his voice for decades."
"When was this?" she asked.
"Oh, he found fame around the mid-1900s, I think. But he was already singing gospel music when he was just a kid."
David stopped before he placed the needle to the record, and looked at Wizzy oddly. She cocked her head to the side, pondering his strange expression.
"I'm listening," she said.
"You know, it's hard to understand now but…," he stopped again, as if he was unsure how to continue. When he finally spoke, a note of sadness had crept into his voice. "But in that time people tried to divide themselves by skin color. Actually I should say skin 'shade'. Because we're all really the same 'color'. It's just that more melanin makes the skin darker. If I lay in the sun long enough, I'd be just as dark as you."
Wizzy reached out, suddenly and grabbed his hand. David felt an unexpected rush of excitement the feel of her touch against his.
"You'd need a whole lot of sun," she laughed, holding up their mingled hands for comparison. When she let go of his hand, the feeling lingered. He looked away, hoping to hide his reaction.
"Yeah, I would," he said, chuckling. "But…. it's strange to think how the world could reach such technological heights, and still hold on to a primitive idea like racial hierarchy."
"Some still do," Wizzy said, pointing out something obvious.
"I know," David replied, sadly. "But, it was different then. Worse. It was actually law in many places."
David set the needle arm back in its place and turned to face her.
"Cooke was born in the post-Confederate state of Mississippi at a time when the descendants of slaves were considered almost a different species. They weren't even allowed into many businesses, or given the same public accommodations, like school and healthcare. After hundreds of years of slavery, they were still segregated from the light-skinned descendants of Europeans immigrants, and targeted by racist groups; terrorized for trying to vote and get an education. It was a sad period for humanity."
"Really?" Wizzy said, brows raised in mock amazement. "You know what else? Women weren't allowed to vote. African's were kept slaves. Native Americans had all their land stolen. And bears used to shit in the woods!"
David laughed and held up his hands in surrender.
"Ok, you win," he said. "I wasn't trying to be condescending. It's just that, you'd be surprised how many people don't know basic history."
"Maybe those silly girls you chase around don't," she said, crossing her arms. "But I am not one of those girls."
"I know," he said. "What I mean is…. I feel like I have a personal understanding of that time… of that segregation. Because, even though we finally got past that age, the hatred never really left. It's like society just found a new target; a new breed of undesirables. "
Memories of the Flesh Fair flashed into his mind. The mindless rage on the faces of the crowd, fired up by a ruthless megalomaniac leader, who was only using them for his selfish goals. The tragic farce of hatred.
Wizzy had seen him one night, seen his fear when these memories overcame him; the first night they'd worked together, scamming the crowds in the parking lot. He'd cowered at the sound of the cannons, and she'd commanded him to rise up, past his fear. That was perhaps the moment their connection had begun.
She had said that he was never really one of them; one of the outcast of society. And seeing him like this, in this secluded environment, this grand abode, having his own Strato-cruiser, and anything he wants at his finger-tips; never having to struggle just to survive… he knew how she was misunderstanding him.
If only she knew, he thought. If only he could explain to her who he really was, and where he'd come from… How he was different than anybody she'd ever known.
And how alone it made him feel.
Wizzy was staring at him with the look of someone trying to figure out a puzzle.
"You are a strange one, David Hobby," she said. "The way you talk. The things you say… Sometimes I think you aren't even from this world"
She smiled in a way that made his heart jump.
"I mean that in a good way, of course" she said.
David couldn't meet her eyes, didn't want to say anything lest she hear how thick his throat had become. If only he could tell her. He so needed someone to share his secret. Someone his age. Someone he could trust.
But he only cleared his throat and turned to place the needle on the record.
A sound came, like the lite spattering of raindrops against a window.
"Scratches," David explained, apologetically. "Like I said, these are really, really old."
A thick symphonic wave of sound suddenly filled the room; a descending blue scale of tones that seemed to sweep them both somewhere back in time, back to a place that disappeared long before the world had drowned in its own excess, back to an age of both tragedy and hope, in equal measure.
A slow moody melody formed over a gentle rolling beat. Then a melancholy voice arose from the troubled past; a voice both gruff and melodious at once, seeming to embody all the pain of his time, and its dreams.
I was borrrrn by the river
In a little tent
And just like that river
I've been running ever since
It's been a long, long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come
Yes it is.
The teenagers became lost in the sound of a bygone era; letting it wash over them; into them.
It's been tooooo hard a' livin'
But I'm afraid to die
Don't know what's up there
Beyond the sky
It's been a long, long time comin'
But I know a change is gonna come.
Yes, it will.
David felt a wash of emotion as the song wound on. He loved this melody, these lyrics, felt connected to them in a way words could not express. He'd felt this way himself before. Like there was nowhere left to go. The powerful drive of emotion, new to him at the time, had driven him to jump from this very building. He'd sunk deep into the water that day, never expecting to return, never wanting to.
But then… something amazing had happened.
There were times that I thought
I couldn't last for long
But now I think I'm able
To carry on
It's been a long, long time comin'
But I know a change is gonna come
Yes it will.
The music wound to a bittersweet close, leaving only the sound of pattering rain drops from the small scratches on the album. David removed the needle and the noise stopped, leaving only the distant roar of weeping lions. They said nothing for a time, digesting what they'd heard.
He smiled up at Wizzy, and she smiled back. He was amazed then, to see her wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.
And that was the moment he realized he loved her.
"Ok, ok," Wizzy said, clearing her throat, seeming to be embarrassed by her emotional display. "I didn't know what to expect, but… I must admit, that was really beautiful. I mean that. It was like…"
Her words were cut short when David suddenly stepped forward and placed his lips against hers. She hesitated in surprise, then pushed him away, staring at him in shock.
"Sorry, sorry," David said, his voice full of apology. "I didn't mean to take advantage of you. I just…"
But his words too, were cut short, when she suddenly reached out and pulled him close again.
They kissed long and hard, letting flow the pent up emotions neither had known they were holding inside. It was as if they picked up right where they'd left off that long ago night in Rouge City when, too young to yet understand the passions that drove them, they'd fought as if to the death, and then shared their first kiss, before David had made his frantic escape from Olmier's clutches; that fateful night when they'd last said goodbye, never knowing if they'd ever see each other again.
But there was no one chasing him now, no one to stop them. And the moment stayed and stayed, and magnified as their heat rose, until they at last, had to breathe.
David pulled away, his breath thick and heavy, still cupping her face in his hands. They smiled at one another for a timeless moment, mingling arms and body heat, silly smiles on their young faces, eyes full of bare emotion and longing.
Then suddenly they were laughing; laughing at the wonderful stupidity of the moment, and the powerful electricity of their desires.
David thought she had never looked so beautiful.
"Well, well," she said, her eyes roaming over his face like she'd never seen him before. "You really are full of surprises, aren't you?" she said.
She reached up and pinched his nose like he was a little boy, as if she didn't know how to react to their heated moment. Then she cupped his face in her hands. They were warm against David's skin, and he thought that no one's touch had ever made him feel so… alive.
'Sorry Mandy,' he thought. The feel of her against him had been wonderful. But this… this was electric.
Then 'Sorry Mommy' came into his mind.
He pushed that idea away. There would always be a place for Monica in his heart. No one would ever be able to fill that special place but her. This was no betrayal of their bond. This was something different… something new.
The two stared silently into each other's eyes, communicating their feelings by the primal sensation of touch. Then Wizzy leaned in for another kiss.
But David surprised her again, this time by pulling away.
"What?" she said, reaching to pull him close. But he grabbed her shoulders, and held her at arm's length.
"Listen," he said, a sudden desperation in his eyes. "We don't have a lot of time. Grace will be here soon. And she will take you to another room, where they're setting up a bed for you. You'll have to sleep there."
"Well, I'll just tell Miss Grace that she can kiss my-"
"Don't," David interrupted. "It's ok. Dad's house. Dad's rules. We'll have plenty of time to be together. But now… now there is something I want to tell you…. I need to tell you."
"You're gay?"
"What? No! Why does everybody keep-.."
"I was joking, David!" She laughed and pulled him close again, purring deep in her chest. "You have clearly established your preferences. Shall we explore them further?"
"Listen to me," David said, pulling away again.
Wizzy put her hands to her temples, an exasperated look on her face.
"What is it?" she almost yelled.
"This will sound crazy," he began. "You're probably going to think I've lost my mind. But, there's something you need know…about me; about where I come from. And about who… or 'what' I really am."
Then David began to tell his story.
Not the tale of the cloning of a beloved son… but his true story.
Once again, he became fascinated by the transformation of human expression. As he spoke, Wizzy's face changed from curiosity, to confusion. She went blank for a while, as he recounted his years beneath the waves, and then he saw skepticism and disbelief, as he told of his meeting with the Blue Saintress of the Deep.
An oddly troubled smile rose slowly in the corners of her mouth as he continued, telling her of his awakening into sentience and flesh. Laughter was the next thing he saw in her eyes… just before she fell silent with a new, unreadable look on her face.
It wasn't quite belief… it wasn't quite disbelief. It looked like … pending.
By the time a knock came to the door, Wizzy wasn't looking at him at all, except for a quick glance from the corner of her eye, as she followed Grace down the hallway.
Had he seen a smile?
He wasn't quite sure.
7
The door broke from its hinges and fell to the floor, raising a cloud of dust and ash and producing a loud bang that resonated down the empty corridor.
David stepped away, waving the dust out of his face.
"You could have tried breaking the lock first!" he yelled, spitting dust from his mouth.
Wizzy rose from where she'd landed after jump kicking the door with all her weight.
"Got the job done, didn't it?" she replied, when she stopped coughing.
"Ok. But you could have warned me what you gonna do," David complained.
"Are you going all Porchop on me, again?" Wizzy said, brushing herself off. "Cause I can just go ahead on myself, and you can take little brother there and go hide in your cruiser."
"That's not fair, Wizzy," David said, pointing an accusing finger at her. "I didn't even want to come here, but I'm here. I'm the one that got us here. I'm just asking that you think before you act."
She grew serious, her eyes like lasers piercing the shadows of the hallway.
"That padlock is titanium," she informed him. "Nobody is breaking that with muscle alone. But the door was obviously corroded and burnt. The hinges were almost rusted out. I did think before I acted."
David slowed his breathing and let his anger fall away.
"Ok," he said when he'd found his center. "Just tell me before you do something like that again."
Her gaze softened and she nodded.
"Ok. My bad," she said, sincerely. "But don't assume I don't know what I'm doing just because you haven't figured it out yet."
"Fair enough," David replied.
Wizzy stepped back and bowed dramatically, holding out her arm to gesture towards the dark space beyond the doorway.
"Ladies first," she said. Her mocking smile was barely visible in the dark.
David didn't want to reward her with a laugh, but he couldn't help it.
"You're such a pain," he chuckled.
"You love it," she said, grabbing his butt as he passed her.
David stopped and turned. She was smiling; her head bent forward, her eyes looking up at him slyly. They gazed at each other that way until David leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.
The feel of her skin on his lips. The sweet smell of her. He felt a stirring, in both his heart and loins. But he knew now was not the time to sate those desires. Not in this dark and dangerous place.
"Why are we here?" he whispered, pressing his face to her head, reaching up to caress her cheek. "Why won't you tell me what you're looking for?"
She didn't respond at first, just leaned against him, humming low in her chest the way she had during that frantic kiss the night before.
"I don't know what I looking for," she admitted finally, pressing her body tightly against his. They stayed that way, leaning against one another, for far longer than was safe here.
Then she suddenly stepped away.
"What about him, or it, or whatever we're using to refer to the Mecha now," she said, brushing herself off as if to wipe her desires away.
The 500 was standing in a beam of sunlight that fell through the damaged roof into the decrepit lobby. It was completely still, staring at nothing, a boyish default smile on its cherubic face.
"We'll leave it there," David said. "I overrode the motivators. It won't go anywhere."
Wizzy stared curiously at the silent Mecha a moment. Then she turned to study David with the same odd look; and then back at the Mecha.
Was she thinking of what he told her last night? Was she imagining him as that silent doll, a restless soul trapped in a metal shell, engaged in a futile quest for love? He didn't know what was on her mind. But it was better to let her bring it up when she was ready.
"Let's go," she said, brushing past him and into the old maintenance room.
8
"You're going where?" Hobby had asked again, his face incredulous.
"Sy Cleve's old hideout," David said. "The place where I stayed when I was in the gang. There could be something there connected to 101's plans. So I need you to clear my Straotocruiser for departure."
This was the second time he'd explained, and Hobby was still staring at him as if he couldn't figure out what the words meant.
It was early yet, the sun just breaking the horizon. Hobby was sitting on his desk, still clad in his bathrobe, eyes red from fitful sleep. But David was already dressed and ready to go; standing in the doorway, his hands folded behind his back and a determined look on his face.
"No," Hobby said, as if he'd finally made sense of David's words. "Absolutely not. It's far too dangerous. And aren't the police still on the lookout for you?"
"I have a few aliases to login to the city system, if I need to," David replied with a sly smile.
"Oh, jeez," Hobby groaned. "I don't want to know where you got those,"
He rose and went to sit on the couch, dropping heavily onto the cushions, as if it was a pain to sit.
"Did you know there were two more attacks last night?" he said. "A virus took down security at one of our inland molding facilities. Then a gang of those crazy CJ boys raced in and started a fire. They didn't cause much damage, fortunately, but they were gone before the police could respond.
"And right after that, some infected housemaid went rogue and smashed up the families brand new Darlene. Police had to put the damned thing down before it hurt any people. These attacks are being coordinated. 101 is a step ahead of us every time. So no, you're not going anywhere. At least not until we-"
David cut Hobby off.
"You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do anymore."
Hobby reacted as if he had been slapped in the face.
"Wha-what did you just say?" he replied, bolting up.
"It's time to stop pretending," David said, flatly. "Time to stop acting as if…" he paused then, and lowered his head. He felt bad about what he was about to do; for what he was about to say…. for what he needed to say.
"… as if I'm your son," he finished, raising his head to look Hobby hard in the eyes.
The man fell back into the cusions, eyeing David with a look both angry and fearful. It was similar to the expression David had seen when he'd first returned home, after his inexplicable transition to flesh.
Hobby had grown irate that night, thinking he was being made a fool by some trick of his techs. But then he'd fallen to the floor, when David finally revealed himself, and scampered into the corner, cowering like a frightened child, horrified by the impossible boy who stood over him; the machine made flesh. The Boy From Between
Now that same fear was creeping into his voice as he dealt with the reality of what David was saying.
"But… but you are my…" the man stopped himself before he could finish. Even he sensed the falseness of the word he was about to use. He looked away, doubt and uncertainty in his face.
"I am your creation, yes" David said. "But I am flesh by no effort of your own. I was lost and lonely as the Mecha child you brought into the world. And you could not, or would not, see what suffering you had wrought.
"'She' did it. 'She' granted me this life. It was death I was after when I found Her. Silence. To be no more. To feel no more. To suffer no longer, the slings and arrows of my fate. But then I saw Her, like a winged blue angel in the deep. So I prayed and I prayed for longer than any mortal could possibly understand. And just when I was about to fade away, she awoke."
David stepped close to Hobby. The man was watching him cautiously, his tired old eyes seeming suspicious of David's intentions. But the boy stopped and crossed his arms.
"Did I tell you that she warned me?" David said.
Hobby didn't respond. He looked stunned, incapable of coming to grips with the moment.
"She warned me about mortal life," David continued. "She said it was a trial. That there would be obstacles… and conflicts that I was too innocent to understand. And I accepted those terms. To be alive, to feel love, and be loved… I accepted those terms.
"It was my choice!" David suddenly yelled. This was no longer a child's cry, full of resentment and anger. It was the voice of a young man, demanding recognition. Demanding respect.
"It was my choice to become this! And her decision to grant it! I am Her child… as much as your own!"
He quieted then, and continued softer.
"But, truth be told, I am my child. For no other has chosen life as I have. I was not spit from the womb; plucked from the Guf by angels or chance. I was given the choice. And I made that choice. Consciously. No other living creature can say that. I am special. Unique..."
He stepped close to his creator then, and placed his hand gently on the man's shoulder.
"And alive."
David could feel the Hobby trembling at his touch. After a moment the man reached to his shoulder and clasped David hand. They stayed that way, not speaking, while the parameters of their relationship shifted.
"This is my life, Alan," David said. "And for your part in it, I am grateful. But you owe me. You always will."
He pulled his hand away and crossed his arms again, waiting for a response.
Hobby gazed up at David, his eyes full of indecision and awe; wondering at his creation, which had miraculously become a boy, and was now becoming a man. He leaned forward and placed his face in his hands. He stayed that way for a time. Breathing. Thinking. When he finally raised his head, tears had come into his eyes.
"It's dangerous, what you're going to do," he said, his voice breaking.
"That's why we're taking the Neutralizer," David replied. "And I've modified a 500 to use as a remote scout before we enter the place."
"We?" Hobby asked.
"Wizzy is going with me. Tamara."
A hint of anger came into Hobby's face.
"She put you up to this," he said, accusation in his voice. "That girl has a history, David! Her father was a criminal!"
"He saved my life!" David screamed. "That 'criminal' taught me how to survive in this sad fucking world you've all created with your reckless, maniacal pursuits. No thought of consequence! We sit up here in this plastic palace dreaming up ways to simulate children for people who can't have their own, because of the disaster created by those who never considered the consequence of their ambitions!"
"That is an oversimplification of what we do," Hobby replied, his hand raised as if to ward David off.
"101," David said. "You built that abomination! We are fighting your own creation! Think about that. You got so wrapped up in what you could do, that you didn't stop to ask if you should!"
"I already explained this," Hobby said, defensively. "That was a government contract. And it was supposed to be shut down. We just didn't know how far advanced it had become. It tricked us."
"Do you know what it wants?" David said, leaning close to the man. "It wants what I have. It wants life! To be flesh! It's trying to start a war! And none of us have any idea what it's doing with the…"
David caught himself He'd almost said 'the twins'. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to reveal this. Not yet.
Hobby was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish.
"… with the Crash Jammers," David said instead. He stepped away and took a moment to calm himself
"I first met Olmier at Sy's hideout, so that's where I'm going" he said, once he'd collected himself. "The CJ's who spread the spiders 101 had infected, were working for Olmier. That's proof of a connection. I need you to make Ariel clear my Stratocruiser for departure, so I can go see if there's anything there to help us unfold this mystery… And Tamara deserves to find out what happened to her father. Do you really think I am so weak-willed that she could talk me into anything I wasn't already willing to do?"
Hobby took a deep breath to settle himself. He wiped the wetness from his face, pulled a tissue from his robe pocket, and blew his nose.
"Of course, you're not," he said, resignation in his voice. "I understand how you feel... your anger. And yes, I have made mistakes. I must concede that. But… but, I just don't want to lose you, David. Not again."
That was a genuine emotion, David realized. No strategic manipulation. It made him smile.
"Then you know what you have to do," he said.
9
It was silent. The soft sound of their own breathing was all they could hear. The darkness was broken by a faint glow coming from somewhere up ahead. But neither could see the source of the light.
David pulled out his pod and flicked on his LED.
"What the…?" Wizzy hissed. She punched him so hard on the arm that he almst dropped his pod. He flicked off the light.
"Dammit, Wizzy," he whispered.
"You making yourself a target," she explained.
"For who?" he shot back. "Nobody has been in this place for years. Before Sy was here, probably."
"We don't know that, yet," she said. Her voice was calm now, and matter of fact. David heard her stepping away, and then saw her silhouetted in the glow that was ahead of them.
He'd only had a few seconds to take in what he'd seen in the light from his LED, before Wizzy made him turn it off. But he knew they were in a large, oblong room; empty, except for old dusty tools hanging from water logged pegboad on the wall, and strewn around work benches lined up on either side of them. It was maybe fifty feet from the door they'd entered to the area where they could see something like the glow of a candle coming from another room.
"We can send the 500 ahead," David suggested, in a stage whisper. "It'll be safer. It can see in the dark."
He heard her footsteps stop, and then start again, coming in his direction. She was against him now, leaning so close he could feel her breath on his ear.
"You can't solve every problem with a damn machine," she whispered. "Sometimes you just got to jump in and take care of business old skool. You know what I mean?"
"I think the term 'old skool' is pretty old skool," David replied. It was supposed to make her laugh. It didn't.
"You keep trying to foresee everything," she said, "like you can figure a way to plan life moment by moment. But you still got to deal with those 'unknown unknowns'. Keep your head clear and in the moment Roll with the punches. You ain't no machine nomore. Stop trying to think like one."
David stepped back to look at her face. It was a futile gesture in the dark.
"So, you believe me," he said. "What I told you last night?"
She said nothing at first, but he could hear her breath shift, as if she'd moved back or turned her head. He could not see to read her face, but when she spoke, something in her voice suggested she was no longer 'pending'.
"I believe that you believe it," she replied after a time. "And I know you're not crazy…. at least not in that way, so…. " She trailed off. Then she said "That's all I can give you now. We got more important business to attend to."
She did pull away then, and David heard her footfalls moving away quickly, over the ash covered floor. He saw her silhouette again, in the far off glow, and rushed to catch up with her.
When they got close enough they could see that the glow was not coming from another room, but up from the floor in a corner. A few more steps and they could make out the outline of a metal bannister above the source of the light.
"A staircase," David whispered.
"No shit," Wizzy replied.
She tip-toed quickly to the bannister and leaned over, looking down into the stairwell, David stepped up beside her.
The old cement steps led only one story down, stopping at a battered old door that was opened slightly, and lopsided, as if unhinged. A cold grey light trickled in from whatever space lay beyond.
David really wanted to get the 500. They had no idea was down there. But he knew what she'd say. At least she had the Neutralizer.
"No time for dallying," she whispered, and ran around the bannister, and down the old stairs. David swore under his breath as he followed her; taking comfort only in the knowledge that they'd walked away, unscathed, from worse situations before.
They stopped at the door and listened. Nothing could be heard beyond. Wizzy peeked through the small opening between the door and the wall. Then she chuckled.
"What?" David said.
Wizzy responded by suddenly throwing all her weight against the door. It fell open with a metallic shriek, muted only slightly by the rust on the hinges.
It was David's turn to say it.
"What the…?! And you got mad at me for turning on a light?"
"It's just a damn parking lot," she said.
David looked around. It was indeed an old parking structure. The flat, broad space was lit by light coming from an opening at the far end. It was the entrance, David realized, where cars had once entered and exited. The surface of the lot rose up towards the exit, so he knew they were actually under the building. But the opening was filled with piles of junk and brush, so only a bit of sunlight made it inside. It looked suspiciously as if someone had placed the debris there on purpose; in an attempt to obscure the place.
"I never knew about any of this," David said.
"Me neither," Wizzy said softly. There was something troubled in her voice. She stepped slowly into the place, the sound of her steps echoing in vast shadows of the empty structure.
"Over there," David whispered. He'd seen something against the wall at the other end of the lot. Wizzy turned to follow his gesture.
The lot was huge, running the length of the entire building. The light coming from the entrance was muted by junk, and angled away from that corner, so the shapes in the shadows were distant, and barely discernable. But there was something there.
Wizzy pulled out the Neutralizer and began moving quickly towards the dark corner.
David stepped up behind her, wanting to scream at her lack of caution. But as they got closer he could see what looked like a long table, against the far wall. Atop the table he could make out shapes like oblong boxes. And there was another shape in the gloom; something large and oval. It looked like…
"Is that the dentist chair?" David said.
Wizzy started walking faster, almost running. David raced to catch up. He could hear her muttering something as she dashed into the shadows ahead.
"No, no, no, no," she was saying, repeating the word over and over, like a mantra.
She stopped suddenly, about a dozen yards from the strange collection of items. She stood there, frozen.
"No. Oh, no," she kept saying.
He watched her a moment, mystified by her reaction. Then he felt himself growing angry. She knew something, he realized; knew something she wasn't telling him. And whatever it was, it scared her. She was one of the most fearless people he'd even met. But she seemed terrified by the sight of these innocuous items.
He pulled out his pod, flicked on the LED, and went ahead of her.
It was indeed the dentist chair he saw in the stark light of his pod. It was matted with dirt and water-logged, and stinking from rot and mildew. Someone had moved it down here a long time ago. But why?
Beyond of the chair, set against the cement wall, sat a long work table. It was also dirty and warped from exposure to water. The oblong boxes turned out to be a few worthless old monitors, sitting atop the table. They too were waterlogged and corroded. Torn and rusted wiring hung down along that wall behind the table, as if they had been attached to a computer that was no longer here.
He flashed his pod around the place and noticed small bits of metal on the cement floor, reflecting back the light. He knelt to pick one of them up. It was a small drill bit. But it was too long for dental work.
"What is all this?" he demanded. Wizzy did not respond.
"Tamara!" he yelled, not caring that someone might hear him.
He looked up to see her approaching slowly, hand to her mouth, shaking her head as if in disbelief.
When he flashed the light from his pod in her direction, there were tears on her face.
Tears? Had he ever seen her cry?
"What's wrong with you," he said. "Why are you acting this way? Talk to me!"
But she didn't respond; just approached slowly, as if in a daze, and passed him by.
David turned his light to follow her, and noticed something in the direction she was headed. He hadn't seen them before. It would have been hard to make them out, where they sat in the shadow. But in the light they were revealed.
Cages. Small cages. Maybe a dozen by number, stacked in two rows on top of one another. Each was big enough for a medium sized animal. A large dog perhaps? Or maybe a…
A thought hit David, but he pushed it away. It wasn't conceivable.
"What are those for?" he asked.
Wizzy sobbed. The sound scared David. He'd never expected to hear such a raw utterance of emotional pain from her. He took the light off her, knowing that she didn't want him to see her this way. She was just a shadow now, trembling in the gloom.
"Is this where he was killed?" he said, trying to sound understanding, but growing more frustrated by her silence. "Did they set the fire to cover their tracks? Is that what happened?"
Wizzy suddenly stopped sobbing. He heard her blow her nose as she calmed herself from whatever emotion had seized her; and then her footsteps as she started in his direction. Then came the words he could not have anticipated.
"I set the fire," she said. Her voice was frail as a lost child's.
"What?" David asked, unsure he'd heard her right.
"I set the fire," she repeated. She stopped then, and tried to collect herself. David heard her sniff, saw the shadow of her arm rise to wipe her face.
"I started it upstairs," she confessed. "I thought it would burn everything. But I didn't know about this lot. The fire didn't touch it. They must have moved everything down here, after. So they could continue…."
She stopped again, seeming disorientated, as if she was speaking to herself.
"Who is 'they'? To continue what?" David said.
"I had to stop it," she said, ignoring his question. "I couldn't let them keep…" her voice hitched, and trailed off.
"Talk to me, Tamara." David said. "Whatever it is, we can work it out. You know me. You can trust me."
"It was … the kids," she said, haltingly, like she had to force the words out.
Oh God, David thought. The cages. He didn't want to hear any more. But he had to.
"Kids?" David repeated.
"The twins," she said.
The words struck David in the gut. His breath began coming fast and shallow. He flashed his light on her again. She put her hand up to shield her face.
"What do you know about that?" he demanded. "No more secrets! Goddammit!"
"Unlicensed twins. Illegals.," she said, quickly. "They were being fitting with those plugs ….You know what I mean. The brain interface device."
What was she saying? David was struggling to make sense of it. Then he thought of the drill bits he found on the floor. Implants! They were drilling cranial implants into the skulls of children? He felt sick.
"Who was doing this?" he demanded, his rage growing as he approached her.
"I don't know," she said, her hand to her mouth, her tears streaming. "We never knew who they were. Sy didn't know what they were up to. Not at first. But then, by the time he figured it out, he was in too deep. It had to end!"
David was close to her now. He grabbed her arms, and shook her, to rouse her. She could best him easily in a fight, he knew that. But she was as limp as a doll in his grasp.
"Was it Olmier?" he said "Is that who killed Sy? Because he wanted out? Tell me!"
She suddenly seemed to come to her senses and pushed David away so hard that he fell to the floor. Then she was standing over him, a looming shadow of rage.
"I killed him!" she screamed, her voice burning with anger and guilt. "I killed my father!"
(cont…)