The Shadow Fixer

by Matthew S. Cox

  Kirsten filed a complaint, but it only resulted in the chaperone receiving a warning.

  She approached the outer security checkpoint. The armored door opened once the system read her ID. Inside, two tactical officers and a handful of chaperones sat at their desks in a large white-walled room. Lockers and storage cubbies took up most of the wall on the right. Straight ahead, another armored door led to the secure dorm facilities. They didn’t detain enough children to warrant adding a second full school, so the juvenile inmates received custom tutoring via datapads and AIs. At least they had thrice-weekly visits with a psychiatrist and counselor.

  No one questioned the secure dorms’ mission to help rather than punish the detainees. Even the idiot who terrified Rafael about the compliance bracelet only did it in hopes they’d never have to use it on him.

  Protect psionics from ourselves. She sighed out her nose and approached the main desk.

  Senior Specialist Cole Hernandez looked up at her, offering a courtesy salute. “Afternoon, lieutenant. Here to see Esparza?”

  “Yes. How’s he doing?”

  “Wow. I’ve never seen an arresting officer visit a detainee even once after the inquest closed,” said one of the female chaperones behind her. “You got a big heart.”

  For the thousandth time, Kirsten argued with herself about seeking to foster him. She had Suggestion, so she could both mentor and keep his power under control if necessary. But, as an active I-Ops officer, she couldn’t be around him all the time. She already had Evan, and—as Dorian kept telling her—she couldn’t collect every stray she found. Evan might adore having a brother. She knew him well enough at this point to dismiss any worries he’d suffer jealousy. Mostly, she doubted her ability to keep up with two kids. She’d be twenty-three in September, still five months away, and shouldn’t have kids at all yet, much less a nine-year-old. Facing wraiths and demons frightened her less than the responsibility of being a mom. Failure out in the field would only get her killed. Failure at ‘mom’ would ruin a child’s life.

  She pictured Evan smiling and clung to the hope she stumbled through it all right so far.

  “So they tell me,” whispered Kirsten.

  “Esparza’s doing well.” Hernandez brought up the boy’s record on his terminal. “He’s totally compliant. Racked up a bunch of privilege points. The psych team is concerned he might be borderline depressed, though.”

  Kirsten frowned. “How would you handle your entire family being killed, then ending up stuck in a locked room alone most of the time? He still thinks the compliance stunner is going to randomly make him piss himself.”

  Specialist Hernandez held his hands up in a ‘what can ya do’ way. “Can’t do much about the bracelet, but he’s perked out of tier one security. His door isn’t locked until lights out. He can go to the common areas whenever he wants. Oh, good news.”

  Kirsten raised both eyebrows. “Hmm?”

  “Based on the report from the telepaths, the psych team, and the two patrol officers he attacked, he’s probably going to be transferred over to the standard dorms soon. Psych thinks he’ll respond better over there.”

  “I barely qualify as a high school graduate and even I could tell you treating a kid like him as a child and not a detainee is going to be better for his mental health.”

  The chaperones all chuckled.

  Hernandez leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Yeah, well. Not every kid we get in here has his attitude.”

  “He’s not a delinquent. Rafael acted out of grief and desperation.” The meaning of what he said finally hit her. “Wait, you said he’s getting out soon? When?”

  “Maybe end of the week, maybe end of next,” said Hernandez. “Waiting on a judge to review the statements from the two officers he used his powers on. If the judge agrees, they’ll suspend the sentence for now. It’ll come back to bite him in the ass if he does anything else. If not, it’ll disappear when he turns eighteen.”

  Thrilled, Kirsten had to fight the urge to bounce on her toes. “Can I tell him?”

  “Yeah. We’d been keeping it quiet so you could be the one to let him know.” Hernandez gestured at the storage cubbies. “Go on in whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thank you.” She crossed the room, stashed her E-90 and stunrod in a locker, then headed through the armored door.

  A short hallway led to another armored door. She walked past the suite of offices used by the counselors, telepaths, and psych team to an internal security checkpoint. A synthetic named Pila with Marsborn white skin staffed the desk. She waved at Kirsten, buzzing her through another secure door into the hallway containing Rafael’s bedroom, one of thirty doors on either side. The far end of the corridor connected to the common areas, where the detainee kids who’d racked up enough privilege points could play games, watch holovids, or spend time in a room larger than their personal quarters.

  Kirsten squeezed her hands into fists at being surrounded by locked rooms. They reminded her too much of Mother’s closet. At least the girl who’d spent hours scream-begging for someone to let her out last week no longer yelled.

  She found Rafael sitting on the bunk in his room, one leg up, one leg—the one with the compliance bracelet—stretched out as if keeping it as far away from as possible would help. The open door eased her nerves, as did the numerous ‘warm’ touches around the room. His good behavior had allowed him to accumulate several toys, two datapads, and cartoon-print sheets on the bed instead of the bland white ones. If not for his blindingly pink detainee jumpsuit, he could’ve been a normal boy in a normal—if somewhat sparse—small bedroom.

  “Hey there.” Kirsten knocked on the doorjamb.

  Rafael looked up from the datapad in his lap. His hair appeared noticeably longer, touching his shoulders. He seemed healthy but had the frightened demeanor of a child whose parent would beat them mercilessly for the slightest infraction. Kirsten knew the feeling well. Granted, the boy feared a jolt from the metal band locked around his ankle, not a physical beating. Kirsten had to suffer being tapped with a stunrod during training. They didn’t hurt anywhere near as bad as Rafael feared it would, but she couldn’t bring herself to suggest zapping him to prove it wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Hi.” Rafael tossed the datapad aside, jumped off the bed, and ran into a hug.

  Kirsten held him for a moment, hating herself for putting him here and not being able to carry him out with her. Eventually, he relaxed his desperate clinging, tried to act casual, and sat on the edge of the bed.

  She sat beside him. “Are you doing okay?”

  “I guess. It’s nice having clean food an’ my own toothbrush.” He rambled about not having a toothbrush after he and his brother got kicked out of their apartment.

  Rafael didn’t have to say anything about being lonely. His big brown eyes spoke volumes. She couldn’t blame all of it on secure detention. He’d lost both parents and his older brother in the span of a few months. She put an arm around his shoulders and let him talk about whatever he wanted. He seemed okay with doing school stuff but missed having friends. Surprisingly, he used Suggestion a few days ago and didn’t get in trouble for it as he’d only told a bigger boy to ‘leave me alone.’

  “What did he do?” asked Kirsten.

  “Picking on me for being short. Said I’m the size of a seven-year-old, not ten. Kept telling me to fight him.” Rafael rolled his eyes. “Zack’s like taller than you are. He just wanted to hit me, so I told him to leave me alone. Thought I was gonna get fried, but they didn’t even yell at me.”

  “You used Suggestion properly.” She squeezed him. “Defused the situation without causing harm to anyone.”

  “Yeah.” Rafael shivered. “If I’m good enough, will they take this thing off me?”

  Kirsten ruffled his hair. “Totally.”

  “Seriously?” He gasped, staring at her in shock. “They will? I hate it so much.”

  She nodded.

  Rafael clung to her arm. Tears streamed down his face.
“I’m sorry for using my psi thing on those police officers. I swear I’ll never use it bad again.”

  “They know you’re sorry.” She rubbed a hand up and down his back. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

  He continued sniffling, though appeared to be trying to collect himself. The way he clung to her felt like a plea, begging her to get him out of here.

  How did we let things get so bad Div 1 gets to P-10 a damn murder investigation because the victim had gang connections? Whoever even came up with priority ten? Fancy way to say ‘don’t care.’ She let a long, sad sigh leak out of her nose. Worked out, I guess. Div 1 couldn’t possibly have handled Diablos.

  Once he quieted, she nudged him. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Yeah. Umm.” He peered up at her. “Is it a good secret or a bad secret?”

  “A good one.” She winked.

  He nodded.

  “They’re going to move you to the normal dorm. Maybe by the end of the week, even. Depends on the paperwork. Might be next week, but it’s definitely happening soon.”

  Rafael stared at her, open-mouthed for a few seconds before breaking down in sobs and mumbling ‘thank you’ over and over. It took him a while to calm down again, but as soon as he did, he ended up grinning. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  He bounced.

  “Try not to flip out too much. You still need to put up with this place for a few days more, okay?”

  Rafael nodded. Already, the hope of not being stuck in ‘jail’ for years completely changed his presence. He’d gone from a sad little waif to a ball of energy. “What’s it like?”

  “Your new room’s going to be about the same, but you can have as much fun stuff in it as you want. And they don’t lock the doors at night. You’ll have classes with other kids.”

  “Awesome!” He flopped back on the Comforgel pad, beaming, arms out over his head.

  “I know it won’t be a problem for you, but…”

  He stopped smiling. “But?”

  “What’s probably going to happen is the judge will take the thing you got in trouble for and put it in a box. Everyone’s going to pretend like you didn’t break the law. The but is, if you do anything really bad, they’re going to take the trouble out of the box.”

  “Eek.” He went wide-eyed. “No. I’m not gonna even stay up late. I swear.”

  She laughed. “Kid stuff is not bad enough to get you in big trouble. I mean, like if you break the law again.”

  “Oh.” He exhaled hard. “Whew.”

  She pointed at his ankle. “And you’re going to leave that thing here.”

  “Best part,” whispered Rafael.

  “You realize he lied to you, right? Trying to scare you?”

  “Kinda. I guess. Still scary.”

  Kirsten fidgeted at the sheet beside her, grateful she’d been so shell-shocked when Division 0 took her in at twelve. Suggestion and Mind Blast—even though she hadn’t known of either ability at the time—she’d probably been one freakout away from secure detention purely out of paranoia at what she might be capable of doing. Thankfully, the dorm staff didn’t regard hiding under the bed as threatening behavior. She spent a while grinning while Rafael rambled about how happy he was to be essentially forgiven and allowed to be a normal kid soon instead of a prisoner. Her mind circled around the idea of Suggestion. If she’d known about the ability as a child, she could have told Mother to leave her alone the same way Rafael kept the bully away.

  Or not… Mother would’ve thought me using the voice of the Devil. She’d probably have thrown herself off the roof or come after me with a knife. Knowing her mother capable of killing her—the reason she’d run away from home at ten had been a warning from Ritchie, a powerful old ghost, about her mother killing her that night. Granted, by accident during a beating, but still. Kirsten had no doubt Mother would’ve been capable of murdering her on purpose if she’d used Suggestion on her.

  Out, out bad thoughts. Kirsten scrunched her eyes closed. “Want to go play something?” She gestured at the door. “They’ve got games in the rec area, right?”

  “Okay.” He got up.

  She followed him down the hall to the game room. Older kids, mostly teenagers, monopolized the Yume Koujou systems, so he headed for the physical games. Spending an hour or two playing gravity pong with him helped ease the guilt she carried for putting him in here. Not like she had any real choice in the matter. Kirsten would’ve preferred bringing him right to the dorms. Had he used Suggestion on anyone other than cops, she likely could have.

  Oh well. At least they finally accepted he’s only a scared kid… not a criminal.

  6

  The Big One-Oh

  The next two days felt like someone stuck the world on repeat.

  Wednesday had a staggering five 21-47 calls, though they’d all been within a roughly seventy-mile area. Of those, three had been wailers: ghosts manifesting and simply moaning or crying—freaked people out, but harmless. One manifested in the middle of the road, causing a nine-car wreck and one fatality. Number five waited until after dinner, dragging her away from home to chase a poltergeist around an apartment building in Sector 2838.

  Injuries had been minor, but the damn thing had to have caused several hundred thousand credits in damage across dozens of apartments.

  Thursday started off bad, Kirsten’s legs sore from all the running, and only got worse with four more haunting calls. Those spirits, at least, had the courtesy to go crazy during office hours. All four had been largely harmless pranksters, zooming around and pushing/grabbing people. Two raced off the instant they realized she could see them, but the other two, both former construction workers who died on the job decades ago, said they had uncontrollable levels of energy and hadn’t been so happy ever before—including while alive. She asked them to go easy on people.

  Friday morning, the alarm jolted Kirsten awake, but she neither moved nor grumbled.

  Her body felt like lead poured into a person-shaped mold. Two days in a row of nonstop running around made her want to spend the next twenty-four hours in search of bed transcendence—how to become one with a Comforgel pad. Even blinking hurt.

  However, she already had the day off, being Sunday.

  Provided no crazy emergencies happened.

  Captain Eze had her back. Wailers, pranksters, and other harmless ghosts could wait a day. She’d been planning today for six months. Sunday, April fourteenth, 2419, Evan’s birthday. His technical birthday, anyway. No one knew what his actual birth date was. Even if his biological mother would be inclined to share the information, she’d rotted her brain with drugs to the point she likely couldn’t remember it either. Nor would she care. Evan had been an unexpected side effect of sex, like a speed bump in the road she ran over and kept on going barely aware of having hit it. It really had been an astounding bit of luck he’d lived to nine.

  Kirsten hated to think if she hadn’t found him one year ago today, he’d have been dead by now.

  Even her running into him had been a million to one odds. He’d lived in a grey zone, which meant little police presence and even less interest among the locals to call the cops about anything. If anyone else in the apartment building suspected Mick beat the hell out of a little boy, they didn’t care. If Evan hadn’t been psionic, he’d most likely have died forgotten in a shitty, bare bedroom. Without Accelerated Healing, he wouldn’t have made it to nine years old. Only because he’d astrally projected out of his body to escape the pain of being hit, and then decided to explore a nearby cyberware store, had she ever become aware of his existence.

  The owner’s dog reacted to the astral being floating around playing with the various implants on shelves. He called the police who transferred it over to Division 0 as ‘unexplained paranormal crap,’ which ended up landing on Kirsten’s proverbial desk.

  So many moving parts. If any one thing hadn’t happened… Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t explain how she’d becom
e so attached to a boy she hadn’t given birth to, nor did she care to dwell on it. Doctor Loring, Kirsten’s shrink, told her they likely saved each other. Having Evan in her life pulled Kirsten out of a depression she hadn’t realized she’d fallen into. How many twenty-two-year-olds believed they’d die unloved and alone some day?

  No one knew his actual birthday, so when the judge asked about the missing information during the adoption hearing, Evan piped up to ask if his legal birthday could be the day Kirsten found him. She still choked up thinking about it.

  Her bedroom door opened.

  Evan, bare-chested in pajama pants, walked in carrying a plate. “Morning, Mom!”

  “Morning,” she wheezed past the lump in her throat, then sat up. “What are you doing?”

  He set the plate on the bed next to her. “Bringin’ you breakfast.”

  “Thank you.” She hugged him, kissed him atop the head, then looked at the offering: a jalapeño and egg sandwich. It looked and smelled just like the ones from Cabrera’s, the tiny eatery Nicole introduced her to. “Wow, did you ’sem this?”

  “No.” Evan shook his head. “It’s from the place you like.”

  She gawked. “Who took you there to get it?”

  Evan flapped his arms. “No one. It came here.”

  “Cabrera’s doesn’t deliver.”

  “Speedy-Nom.”

  Ugh. Hopefully, the delivery bot didn’t kill anyone on the way. “Oh…”

  Evan ground his toes into the rug. “I wanted to do something nice for you today, an’ Dorian said moms like breakfast in bed.”

  “Thank you, Evan. Very thoughtful of you.” She picked up the sandwich.

  He grinned. “Gotta shower and get dressed, so you can have the peace quiet stuff mom’s like but can’t find.”