The Edger Collection

by David Beem

  Coming out of this induced session is easier than the last. Maybe it’s because of the extreme personal nature of what I learned, but I have total recall. My eyes pop open. I’m lying in bed in the medical suite. The bright orbs above me are harsh. I raise a shielding hand.

  Mikey is at my side. My eyes haven’t adjusted to the light. His features are a bright blur. There’s nothing recognizable to latch on to that would identify him, except intuition. The idea that we know people intrinsically. What they’re capable of. Who they are. Why they do what they do. But given what I’ve just learned, I’m not sure how far I can trust my intuition with him.

  “You knew my dad is alive,” I say, surprised by how strong my voice is this time. “And you hid the booster shot from me.”

  “Edge. I was going to tell you about your dad and the booster shot,” he says, not missing a beat, and striking a conciliatory tone.

  “Would that’ve been before or after my ninety-six hours are up?”

  I rip off the cables stuck to ports on my body, and swing my feet around the edge of the bed. I scan the suite. We’re alone. Good. Because this feels like betrayal, and betrayal is personal. The last thing I want right now is a lab tech sticking a scanner in my face, or a casual glance from Mary that says I told you so.

  Mikey smooths the hair on the back of his head. He strides to the window and peers out at the clear blue sky above the ocean. The sunlight on his black tee accentuates his v-cut frame. I twist the ring on my finger, and the surface of my suit bubbles. I close my eyes and swallow, the sensation of slithering goo being unpleasant enough without also having to watch.

  “Nobody can know about the boosters,” he says. “That’s important.”

  “So important you couldn’t even tell me. Apparently.” I open my eyes as the last of the goo slides back into the ring. I pull it off my finger and stuff it into my pocket.

  “Look.” Mikey turns to face me. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been under a lot of stress. I needed you focused. This isn’t focused.”

  “Focused? As in gun-to-my-head focused?”

  “Yes, Edge.”

  “Wow. Great friend!”

  “Edge—”

  “My dad!” I exclaim, and my voice hitches stupidly in my throat. “When were you gonna tell me about Dad?”

  He takes a deep breath and releases it, then crosses to the cabinets and sink on the opposite wall and leans against the countertop, folds his arms, and stares down his nose at me. “What you need to understand is there are more important things afoot. Not everything is about you. InstaTron Tron. Did you find it?”

  “Oh, you are so full of shit.”

  “Shut up. Did you find him?”

  “No. Okay? I didn’t find him. Give me my booster shot and then go fuck yourself.”

  “What do you mean you didn’t find him?”

  “Translation: I didn’t find him.”

  “How could you not find him?”

  “Because he’s not in the Collective Unconscious, Holmes.”

  “Not in the Collect—that’s not possible.”

  “Welp. He’s not there. Sorry. Booster shot, please.” I slide off the bed and scan the room for my shoes. Shoes, shoes. There—by the closet.

  “You don’t understand,” says Mikey. “The amphiphilic molecules used in creating the auto-assembling nano-fibers require a physiologic—”

  I stride to the closet, covering my ears. “La-la-la! Not listening!”

  “—the nano-fiber matrix would disintegrate without the relative concentration of ions inside the human cell—”

  “Booster shot! Booster shot! La-la-la—”

  A knock at the door interrupts us. Mary sticks her head in.

  “Sir?”

  “Can’t you see I’m in a meeting?” snaps Mikey.

  “You call this tire fire a meeting?” I ask.

  “Sorry sir,” she says. “It’s just… InstaTron Tron.”

  Mikey’s hand chops the air in front of my face, I guess because the last time he told me to shut up didn’t take, so now he needs sign language.

  “What?” asks Mikey. “You found him?”

  “Not exactly, sir.” Mary clears her throat into her fist. “But we have a new lead.”

  “Explain that,” he says. I roll my eyes, wheel the doctor’s chair around, and pull on a shoe.

  “InstaTron Tron has started tweeting again,” says Mary. “They’re weird, but they’re focused.”

  “Focused on what?” asks Mikey.

  “On the Chargers game tomorrow.”

  “The Chargers game?” Mikey and I exclaim in unison.

  Mary holds out her phone so we can read for ourselves. Still seated, I kick off from the wall to roll the chair across the room and catch a glimpse from under Mikey’s elbow.

  PRAY ALL DAY AT CLUCK-N-PRAY! #Chargers #GameDay

  Mary lowers her phone. Mikey shakes his head.

  “Well, that’s weird,” he says. “Promising, but weird.” Then he rounds on me so fast, I startle and slowly heel-toe the chair back to the desk. “Come on,” he says. “Time to power up. Let’s go get your booster.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  This place is a freaking hamster maze of hallways and private elevators. Mikey’s going to make me break a sweat trying to keep up, but at least I’m getting my booster and stay of execution. Mary and I follow him into another elevator.

  “I needed you motivated,” he says. “Focused. I couldn’t have you getting sidetracked over your dad. Dammit, this is too important.”

  I glance again at Mary, but she may as well be blind, deaf, and dumb, going by the way she’s resisting eye contact and her inability to muster an opinion.

  The elevator doors open directly into Mikey’s office.

  “What I need you to understand, Edge, is that you were always going to get this shot. You know that, don’t you?”

  I screw up my face into what I hope conveys how absurd I find the question. “If you’re asking me for the benefit of the doubt after selling this as me sacrificing my life for the greater good, then, ah…” I stick my finger in my mouth, then raise it into the air as if checking wind direction. “That’d be a no can do, Mikey.”

  We pass the da Vinci glider, and Mikey strides to the bar and steps around the end. He goes straight for a safe tucked between a break in the spirits and starts punching some numbers.

  “You could’ve avoided all this by leveling with me,” I say, casting a quick glance at Mary, who finally meets my eye now Mikey’s back is turned. Her lips tighten in an expression of sympathy.

  “No, I couldn’t,” replies Mikey, jerking the handle on the safe, which doesn’t open. “Crap.”

  “Yes—you could,” I say. “What about trusting me? You want me to trust you. How do you think trust works? It goes both ways.”

  He turns to face me. “This isn’t about me trusting you. It’s about you trusting me.”

  “Oh my God,” I say, rolling my eyes and sliding onto a barstool. “Says the guy who’s been lying the whole time.” I shift to face Mary. “What? They don’t got the word ‘compromise’ in the business lexicon?”

  “Edge, I didn’t just learn your dad is alive. Okay? I’ve known for years. How could you possibly trust me if you’d known that? How could we possibly have gotten to the important stuff? But I’m the good guy here. Everything I did was for a reason.”

  A hot flash hits me. I sit up straighter. “Important stuff? You asshole. How is this not the important stuff?”

  Mikey nods, inexplicably, like we just said the same thing. I glance at Mary for support, but she’s back to playing Helen Keller.

  “Your dad and I developed the Zarathustra program together,” says Mikey. “He did the nano-neuromedicine that’s in your brain right now. But, Edge. Come on. What did you think? I mean, tell me you didn’t think it was weird when I started talking about nano-neuromedicine.”

  “Weird? Weird! Weird is the donut chicken nugget double bacon cheeseburg
er! Weird is having a freaking da Vinci glider parked in your office, you asshole!”

  “You don’t like my glider?”

  My mouth opens, then clicks shuts. Mary is on the other side of the bar pouring a drink.

  “We’re off topic,” says Mikey, waving these points away and trying again to enter the code to his safe. “So your dad did the medicine,” he says over his shoulder. “And then we had this guy Tim in Indiana do the suit and the ring. But, see?” He yanks on the handle to the safe, which again doesn’t budge. “We’re talking about this crap, and we simply don’t have time—and this is seriously the third time I’ve tried to enter the code to this safe! Okay? Okay?” He spins around to glare at me. “I can’t concentrate with all your donut bacon chicken burger crap.”

  Mary, who’s now holding a full shot glass, asks, “Do they put the chicken nuggets on top of the burger, or—”

  “It’s gross,” I reply. “But it’s the donut part that’s gross.”

  “I can totally see that,” she says, nodding enthusiastically.

  “Both of you! Shut it!” exclaims Mikey. “Edge, I need your trust now. Can you do that? Can you do that, Edge? Can you concentrate on the job until we get through this? Please? I promise, after that, I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Mikey, I don’t know what to say.” I set my elbows on the bar and drag my fingers through my hair; Mary slams her shot of I-don’t-know-what; Mikey, now that everyone’s silent, focuses on the safe. This time, the lock clicks. His words echo in my brain.

  Trust him, he says. Concentrate on the job, he says. But how can I do either? Dad is out there. Alive!

  The safe door swings open.

  “Was my dad in Indiana?” I ask, my voice coming out mechanically.

  Mikey doesn’t reply. He stands with his back to me, silent. Mary’s posture stiffens.

  But how long has he known? How long was he working with my dad? Indiana. He said the guy who did the suit was in Indiana—as in, Notre Dame? Is Mikey’s Tim “Indiana Tim”? Has Mikey known about Dad since Notre Dame?

  Mikey turns around. His face is pale, his expression blank. Mary’s staring at me like she’s just learned I’ve got a rare medical condition where you grow carrots out of your ears.

  “Hey, guys,” I say, nodding. “We can fix this. Okay. Let’s do the booster. We’ll get that going and, you know, take all this death stuff off the table, and then focus on the job. We can talk about Dad later—ha, I mean, now that there is a later, you know? The silver lining is, Dad’s alive. I can hold on to that. For now. We’ll find InstaTron Tron…Tron. That really is too many Trons, but okay. We can do this, Mikey. Mary. We can do this.”

  But despite my attempt at pep-talking, their expressions remain unchanged.

  “What?” I ask.

  Mary bites her lip, her gaze shifting from the safe back to me. Mikey says nothing.

  “What?” I ask again.

  “The boosters,” Mikey replies. “My entire inventory.”

  “What? What, Mikey? Use your words.”

  “They’re gone, Edger,” says Mary. “They’re all gone.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A trapdoor opens in the bottom of my stomach. I lean to peer around Mikey and into the empty safe. Blue lighting is shining down from inside into empty beaker holders. Mikey whips out his cell phone and speed dials. Mary sets her shot glass in the sink and pulls out her phone also. Mikey juts his chin out at her.

  “I need you to lock down Emerald Plaza, right now!”

  Mary speaks in hushed tones into her phone.

  Mikey hustles out from around the end of the bar and jabs a finger at me. “You stay put!”

  My feet seem to be growing roots into the floor as I try to process what’s just happened. My skin is tingling. Walls are shrinking in around me. Mary’s relaying orders through the phone. Her voice sounds a billion miles away. Mikey snatches some keys and papers from the end of the bar, then hurries off toward his private elevator. My brain is speeding down multiple thought highways at once, but all of them converge in the end.

  Dad. Is. Alive.

  “You stay here, Edge!” Mikey calls from over his shoulder. “I mean it. Don’t you go getting any crazy ideas.” He pauses at the door, like he’s waiting for an answer, so I shrug and nod. “Mary?” he says in a brook-no-nonsense tone. She lowers her phone for a second and gives him a thumbs-up, and then he’s out the door.

  We’re alone. The room is silent except for my panting. My feet want to go. I’m itching to get out of here and do something. Anything.

  No, not just anything. I want to find my dad.

  Mary’s hand on my arm reminds me I’ll have to deal with her first. My eyes come back into focus. She’s in front of me. Her eyes are round and soulful. She squeezes my arm, then her hand glides up and down.

  “I’m sorry,” she says.

  I nod, biting my bottom lip. I pull several steps away from her before turning around and marching back to where I started. When our eyes meet again, I repeat the process, pacing like a confused elderly person who can’t remember why they came into the room.

  “Edger.”

  “I didn’t want this.” I stop near the glider and face her. “I told you. My plan was to say no. And you told me,” I add, pointing accusingly at her. “You told me! Think about Gran, you said. Think about Shep, and Fabio! You said that!”

  “I did,” she replies, her eyes wide and innocent.

  “Think about Gran and Shep and Fabio, you said,” I repeat, nodding like this deserves its own special entry in the annals of Most Brilliant Points Ever Made. “And you know, I was so close to getting Gran into Pine’s Place. Another six months. That’s it. Six months is nothing. You know?”

  “Oh, I know,” she says, nodding, her expression unchanged.

  “And now this!” I say, gesturing wildly with my arms at the bar, as if it symbolizes an evil global syndicate hell-bent on ruining my life. “Dad. Dad.” I release a short, near-hysterical chuckle. “I don’t know whether to be pissed at him or run right out to find him.”

  “Or…maybe neither,” she says, pursing her lips and shrugging.

  “Neither? No. No. It’s gotta be one or the other. I mean—he let us all think he was dead! He just walked out on us!”

  “But maybe he, you know, had his reasons.”

  “Reasons.” I frown. “There’s no reason to run out on your family like that.”

  “Well, I mean…” Mary breaks eye contact and starts picking at invisible lint on her shirt. “You know. Maybe… Well, suppose the bad guys were coming. I mean, just hypothetically, you know, maybe he did the right thing…running away. To protect you. I mean.”

  “Mary.”

  She clears her throat and stands up straighter.

  “What do you know about my dad?”

  “Actually… I was talking about mine.”

  “Yours.”

  “Mine. Do you want to sit for a sec? I’m supposed to keep you here, but he didn’t say we can’t talk.” She tilts her head back and smiles, her eyes catching the weak light squeezing through the blinds. I let her lead me back to the bar. We sit.

  “My father worked for the Australian government,” she begins. “When I was little, I remember he came home one day, and he and my mum had a terrible row. The next morning, some men came and gathered all three of us, took us into the country, far away from everything and everybody. It was like a jail. It had guard towers, barbed-wire fences, but inside, the living facilities were made to look like normal flats. I was taken from my parents, who I found out later were forced into working for these people because of his government position, okay? I was given a sister—”

  “Wait, wait,” I say, too astounded to let more pass without challenging. “Where were the police? I mean, your dad worked for the government. Didn’t anyone miss him?”

  “That’s the point.” The corners of her eyes tense. “He continued showing up for work because he thought they’d kill me. Kill
Mum. They split us apart. I got a ‘sister.’ She and I had to fight. Sometimes we’d train ten hours a day. They’d wake us up in the middle of the night for training if they thought we weren’t applying ourselves. It’s where I learned…everything I learned.”

  “Oh my God.” I gape at her, thunderstruck. “That’s horrible.”

  She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “What I’m saying is, my parents let that happen to me, but, maybe your dad vanishing was for the best. Maybe your dad vanishing gave you a more normal life than I had.”

  “I don’t get it,” I say. “Your dad was taken by, I don’t know, some weirdos in the outback. What does that have to do with my dad? I don’t mean to be insensitive.”

  “Mikey just admitted your dad’s involved in all this,” she says. “Edger, this stuff is already changing the world—you are already changing the world. What you did with the power grid, and those crazy gay pride parades. Don’t you see? When people figure out what’s going on, what you can do, what this technology can do, there won’t be a government in the world that isn’t going to want it. You. Mikey. Your dad. Gran, Shep, Fabio. Anyone connected to it. Anyone.”

  I slide off the barstool and open up a few feet between us. Tension creeps into my neck. I rub it and stare off into space.

  “You knew my dad was involved in this before you came to get me that day at the Über Dork. You knew it from the outset.”

  Her lips compress. She peers into her lap.

  “Oh boy,” I mutter, and set in again on the pacing, my brain processors spinning on her now. It’s not like I’ve got a right to be angry. I mean, we were total strangers. She’s got a boss. She’s got a job. And she did try to warn me away.

  “I’ll understand if you’re angry,” she says. “I mean, of course you’re angry. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to understand. I mean, you can’t understand.”

  “You mean because you don’t tell me anything. I can’t understand if you don’t tell me anything. You spy on me. I know you spy on me. But you won’t tell me what you know.”

  Her widened eyes peer into mine. “If what I’ve read about the Collective Unconscious is true, there’s no secret in the world you couldn’t learn on your own now.”