This Automatic Eden

by Jim Keen

  “Thanks for the flowers. How you been?” Alice asked.

  “Hungry.” His voice was low, but he smiled to see her.

  “Figures. You still running mail or full time with Conroy now?”

  “N’ah, I’m outta the mail biz. Leave that for the jeeks. Just flowers these days. Conroy wants a convo though, told me to set a date with you.”

  “Tell him I’ll call.”

  “Sure, sister.” He nodded at her letter. “Gimme. I’ll deliver for you. Old times and all that.”

  “How much to Queens?”

  “Ten.”

  “Give you three.”

  “K. Gimme.” Red extended his hand and clicked his fingers.

  Alice held out the envelope and the cash. As Red reached, Alice took his hand. “This is important, Red, more than the Bridge. You have to deliver, understand?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Let go, ticktock.”

  “Deliver it and you’ll get another five tomorrow.” Alice saw surprise and hope in the boy’s face as he grabbed the paper and fled in a cloud of soap smells.

  Alice had done what she could, updating and warning Toko at the same time. She needed to keep moving before fear slowed her down. A knock came from the door as she was filling a gray backpack with clothes.

  Who knew she was here? Only Xavi, and he would call, not knock. She drew the gun, its weight and solidity comforting, and crept, silent, to the side of the door. There was the faintest of scrapes from outside, and the knock came again, low, urgent. She leaned across and pressed the barrel of the gun to the middle of the door then waved her hand across the small spyglass. If this was a hit, the assassin would fire. She’d been stupid coming back here, she realized. She checked for her phone, but it was on the table, out of reach. She waited, body strung tight like a steel cable, but there was nothing. Ear pressed against the wall, a TV muttered in the distance.

  Another knock, then a faint whisper came through the steel. “Alice? You there? It’s Jeanie.”

  Alice released a deep sigh that blew tension from her body and opened the door a crack. Her ancient Chinese neighbor stood in the hallway clutching the questionnaire with one hand, a steaming bowl of soup in the other.

  “Jeanie? Come in, quick.” Alice waved her inside, and the old woman scuttled past. Alice lingered in the doorway and checked left and right; the hallway was empty, atrium filled with blue smoke, the sounds of sizzling meat echoing across the space. She ducked inside and double locked the door.

  Jeanie was small and slight, her long pepper-gray hair pulled into a tight swirl above a wrinkled face. Alice had only ever seen her in the set of clothes she wore now: black polo neck, black jeans, and white apron. Jeanie worked in the dry cleaners on the ground floor. Alice had struck up a strange friendship with her over the last year, both lost souls. In the months following her unemployment, Alice had wandered the hallways and atrium of the apartment building fighting the urge to throw herself from the rooftop. She would circle until, more often than not, she ended up in the hot, crowded, and noisy launderette watching Chinese TV shows. She hadn’t understood a word of what was being said, but the stories of good and evil were easy to follow, and after a few weeks, Jeanie had sat with her, and their friendship grew. Jeanie’s lunch was always the same: steaming broth filled with noodles served in worn and chipped white bowls. After a month, she brought two bowls, and the women grew to rely upon each other, both alone and fending for themselves.

  “What is it?” Alice holstered the gun and pulled a chair from the table, beckoning the little woman to sit. She did and with a small nod placed the bowl in front of Alice, the plastic chopsticks disappearing into the brown broth. The scents of pepper, spices, and beef rose with the twisting steam. Alice’s stomach growled, making them both laugh.

  “You want some?” Alice asked.

  Jeanie smiled and pulled a pair of chopsticks from her apron. “Course I do. So, where you been? Missed some good stories this week.” Her voice was high-pitched, the words pecked out like a bird snapping at seeds.

  “I’m sorry. I got my old job back and had to work late nights.”

  “Police again? That be wonderful, happy for you.”

  “It’s a job. For this week anyway.”

  Alice slurped the noodles, savoring the filling of her stomach, the warmth spreading through her. She ate in silence, Jeanie watching her with a small smile before she joined her, their heads bowed to the bowl until it was white and empty. Alice leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes to enjoy the stretch of her stomach. The room was quiet, only the faint whine of a distant police siren audible from the world outside.

  “Jeanie, that was so needed, you have no idea.” With a happy groan, Alice forced herself upright, her break over. “So, what’s going on with RoBusters?”

  “Aha, me knew that be your favorite.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s something about android castles battling each other that does it for a girl like me.”

  “You so right. Turns out Rook and Tudor been doing an affair behind Knight’s back.”

  “Ha, I knew it. Knight’s such an idiot. That dope thinks he’s smart, but we know better.”

  “Yeah, they say it be super big battle next week. Time for showdown and season end.”

  “Do me a favor, will you?”

  “Want me to record it?”

  “You’re my kind of woman. Wouldn’t be the same watching with anyone else.”

  “Look forward to it.” Jeanie went quiet and studied her hands clutched in her lap, their pale skin silhouetted against the black cotton of her work uniform.

  “So, what’s the story? How can I help?” Alice asked.

  Jeanie put down her chopsticks and looked at Alice with solemn intensity, her face a mask. She sighed and placed the crumpled medical questionnaire on the table between them and flattened it out. “People in uniforms came yesterday. Give me this, say I have to fill it out or go to jail. I don’t understand. They say they come back today. They scared me. Came into my apartment, opened the door and pushed their way in. Said I was part of the problem. I didn’t understand.”

  Alice took the old woman’s hands, the skin wrinkled and loose, the bones dry sticks. “It’s nothing to worry about, okay? They can’t take you away; they just want the form filled out. The government needs to know who is well and who needs help.”

  Jeanie regarded her with such sadness that Alice felt like a newborn child babbling nonsense. “This is how it starts, Alice. Evil hides behind words and badges. Those ones like power; I see it in their faces. They follow orders and people disappear—one, two, then everyone gone, just the men and their badges left.”

  “This is a health questionnaire, that’s it. I’ll fill it out, put myself as your caregiver and give them my NYPD badge number. There’s no way anything will happen to you once they see you’re covered by the NYPD. We look after our own.” Alice watched a mixture of emotions wash over the little woman’s face, amazed how well the skin and muscles still worked, despite the wear of age. Hope and fear mixed, neither winning, a tie announced.

  “Okay. I get back to work now. I closed the shop when I saw you. Can you put it under my door?”

  “Sure. I’m going out for a few days, but you have my number. If anyone hassles you, call me straight away, okay? Don’t hesitate, get on to me fast.”

  The old lady smiled, then, to Alice’s amazement, stood to give her a long hug. Her body was slight and warm under the thin black clothes. “I love you.”

  Alice fought back tears as Jeanie smiled and let herself out.

  She never saw her again.

  30

  “Where do you find these relics?” Alice asked.

  “She’s got character.” Xavi leaned against the battered side of the van as the sun set behind him. The vehicle had been gray when dinosaurs ruled the Earth; now it was a jigsaw of different parts. The body was boxy, small engine in the front, driver and passengers seats crammed into a tiny cabin, then cargo space behind. Th
e passenger’s door was green, the driver’s red, and brown twine tied in a scruffy knot held the rear doors together. Its engine belched blue smoke as it chattered to itself, the beat irregular. The only concession to modernity was the LIDAR array epoxied to the roof alongside a semicircle of bulbous lenses—an old autonomous driving system jerry-rigged to the vehicle. A blue cable snaked from the array to enter the cabin via the driver’s window.

  Alice yanked open the driver’s door and recoiled at the warm stench of the stifling interior, the dust cloud making her sneeze. She threw her small bag inside, then climbed to sit on one of the cracked vinyl seats. The driver’s controls, such as they were, comprised a thin, black plastic steering wheel that belonged on the Titanic, a few white dials behind shattered glass, and a phone holder connected to the blue cable from the roof. She struggled out of her jacket and turned to stash her bag behind the seat. She saw Xavi had done the same; a large ochre backpack was wedged behind the driver’s seat, its bulging form filled with hard objects.

  Xavi climbed into the driver’s side and slammed the door.

  “So, this thing’s got a heater, huh?” Alice asked.

  “You complain more than my mother. You should move out west, see if a new climate can melt some of those edges.”

  “Just shut up and drive.”

  Xavi clunked the van into gear, and they bumped onto the road and turned left to enter the Brooklyn–Queens Expressway’s access ramp. The engine was loud, and its vibrations shook Alice as she reached behind for a nonexistent seat belt. Great. “Xavi, can you let your phone drive?”

  He turned to look at her, mouth pulled into a hard frown, then turned back to the road.

  Alice wiped the side window with her elbow trying to clean a square to peer through. They merged with traffic, the engine settling onto a steady thrum, while wind moaned around the edges of the doors. She bunched up her jacket, shoved it behind her head, and watched the poor drive by; their cars were no better than this one, held together with gum and tape.

  “Xavi?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have his address?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know you can trust me, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, what are you hiding from me?”

  He ignored her, eyes tracking the road. The miles ticked by. Xavi steered with one hand in his lap, the other on the wheel. Tiredness reached up and dragged her away.

  31

  Darkness, warm and enveloping.

  Wrrrrk up.

  No, anything but that.

  “In five seconds this is going over your head.”

  Alice opened her eyes, the world an interference pattern of colors, and saw Xavi holding two steaming coffee cups. The car sat in a bay opposite a dead-end coffee shop. Her mouth hung open, her tongue swollen and dry, throat sore.

  Had she been snoring?

  That thought kicked her awake, embarrassment chasing away the dregs of fatigue. She grabbed the coffee, the plastic sides of the cup flexing in her hand, and pushed herself upright. The liquid was scalding, and steam burned her nose as she drank.

  “Food?” she asked, and he held up a brown bag of donuts. “Xavi, you have the worst choice in transport, but all is forgiven.” She picked one and took a bite, the sugary glaze so rich she closed her eyes to savor it.

  “Time?” she managed at last.

  “Early.”

  “Where are we?”

  Xavi leaned back in his seat and pointed outside. “Close.”

  She looked out.

  The NYPD database had led them to a discreet and wealthy DC neighborhood. Xavi started the van, and they burbled along immaculate roads on a cloud of blue smoke. The houses grew larger and more ornate, the gardens deeper and wider until it was more countryside than suburban quarter. A light drizzle started; the wipers squeaked across the windshield, blurring rather than clearing. The road dwindled to a small tarmac strip that ended in a featureless ten-foot-high brick wall.

  Alice lit a cigarette and ignored Xavi’s frown. “End of the line. Guess there’s no need for a door if you fly everywhere.”

  Xavi shifted the truck into reverse, and they backed down the road until the wall disappeared from view.

  “No way they didn’t spot us,” Xavi said.

  “How far do you think surveillance goes?”

  “Far enough.”

  Alice grabbed her jacket and opened a sealed pocket to withdraw a black composite drone the size and shape of a marble. She paired it with her phone, then cracked the window to push it free. It wobbled for a moment, then hummed up and away on tiny Dyson jets. She propped her phone on the dash and watched the video feed as the drone buzzed toward the house.

  “Simpler than I expected,” Alice said.

  “Makes it harder to approach unseen,” Xavi replied.

  The house was large but nowhere near the grand scale of the other homes nearby. Its main building was an old brick rectangle with a blue-tiled roof and ornate, ivy-covered windows. A vast expanse of close-cut green grass surrounded it.

  A crackle of interference came from the drone, then the feed disconnected with a static whine.

  “He’s using microwave beams or targeting drones to hit it that quick,” Xavi said.

  “The garden is a moat. The lawn stops anyone getting in without being spotted.” Alice tapped the screen and zoomed in on a section of the perimeter wall; a large black metal box steamed in the light drizzle. “There’s the MI running his security; it must plug into buried cooling and power systems too big to keep in the house. As soon as that MI tracks us, it’ll call the cops, security, lawyers, anyone it can.”

  “Disappointing. Not unexpected.”

  Alice sighed. “You sure you don’t trust the FBI to issue you with a warrant?”

  “He’s in with the president; the SSP would pick us up halfway across the lawn.”

  At exactly eight o’clock, a long, boxy black car dropped from the lead skies only to disappear beyond the wall. The loud whine of its engines suggested great weight.

  “Looks military,” Alice said.

  “You gotta wonder what the man’s done to be so paranoid.” Xavi rummaged through his bag and removed a thin tablet. He took the blue cable from the roof-mounted LIDAR array, plugged it into a dongle, then booted the device. Small green text scrolled across its screen.

  “Not many secondhand cars still have their autonomous systems,” he said. “But this one was attached with molecular resin. That’s the real reason I bought this heap. I’m going to scan his car, see what aerial protection it carries. Maybe we jack it tonight.”

  Distant voices floated on the air. Then the black limo ascended at speed to flicker and fade into the gray clouds.

  Xavi whistled. “That car has more drones than a goddam airport. No chance.” Xavi switched off the tablet.

  Alice studied the display. The LIDAR’s resolution was a tenth of an inch and showed the limo surrounded by a cloud of devices. “I’ve always been a fan of house calls,” she said.

  32

  “We have to take out the MI,” Alice said. “Any ideas?”

  Xavi gave her a cool and searching gaze. “Do you trust me?”

  “No.”

  He laughed and withdrew a slim black case from his ochre bag. The carbon weave caught the light; two brass plates covered the top. She’d seen this level of security on Mars, special weapons division prototypes they’d used to quash the resistance. It held prescribed military tech—illegal to own and carrying the death penalty if used in civilian circumstances. He unchecked the brass DNA locks and offered it to her.

  She ignored the box. “How did you get hold of this?”

  He said nothing, just held the box out.

  She wiped her hands on her jacket then took it. Inside, a glass crab half the size of her hand snuggled inside blue packing foam.

  “Take it out,” he said.

  Alice closed the case and put the crab on the lid. In the diffuse morni
ng light, it glittered like chiseled diamond. Alice bent forward to study the fine detail. Two jointed arms sprouting an array of climbing tools replaced the front pincers, and the legs ended in suction and gripping pads. A pool of black liquid filled its stomach; a wickedly sharp cutting blade sat between two sensors stalks at the front.

  “This is a Homeland Security infiltration device. It can climb in there and stun that MI.”

  “You sure?” Alice asked.

  “This ain’t my first rodeo.”

  “How?”

  “It tracks to the MI then cuts a tiny hole in the casing and sprays the liquid in. That’s a molecular resin designed to congeal around the Babbage circuits, slowing them until they overheat. The MI shuts down, like you or I fainting, and the resin denatures after a set period, allowing the circuits to spin up and run again.”

  “How long will we have?” Alice asked.

  “Fifteen, twenty minutes tops.”

  “Is it trackable?”

  “Everything is if you look close enough. There’ll be the hole in the MI and some residue but nothing to lead them to us; once the crab completes its mission, it destroys itself.”

  “What about the MIs physical defenses? Drones and aerostats?”

  “If it had to cross the lawn maybe, but this is an up and over so less of an issue.”

  Alice put it back in the case and closed the lid with a soft click. She handed it to Xavi and opened the van door to stand outside and breathe the cool, damp air. She felt him watching; he remained inside, giving her the space she needed.

  Until now, everything she’d done had been legal, and it had brought her here, to this dead end. She could turn around, go back to New York, and admit defeat. Toko had been clear with her; if she couldn’t help solve the case, there was no job offer—it was back on the streets. And then? She’d be alone, and Takamatsu would not let her rejection stand without consequences.

  No, she told herself, enough of the doubt and fear. She was going to follow this until the end, go as far into the rabbit hole as she could. After that was … well, afterward.