A Slice of Unkindness

by D C McLaughlin

  Morris rolled her eyes and crinkled her nose in abject disgust. “Ya dinna mean ta visit tha odious character Toggle agin?”

  Edgar gave a wry smile and nodded. Morris groaned.

  “Why? What’s wrong with Toggle?” Warren asked. “His information has always been solid.”

  “Ya’ve never met tha man,” Morris said. “Last time we visited ’im, I had ta throw out tha clothes I was wearin’ because I could’na get tha smell oot!”

  “Then I do hope you’re not wearing you favorite frock, Morris my dear,” Edgar said with a smile.

  Morris sighed and stroked the pretty, lime green and black brocade skirt she was wearing. She had other green dresses, to be sure, and this one wasn’t her absolute favorite, but still.

  “Unbutton your neckline,” Edgar advised. “We might get something truly worth knowing if you give him a little peekaboo.”

  Warren fought back a chuckle.

  Morris aimed a horrified glare at her partner. “I certainly will do nothin’ of tha kind!” she spat back in building irritation, her accent getting very thick. “If you tink I’m gonna debase myself fer tha likes o’ tha slimy reptile who never leaves ’is hole…”

  Edgar’s shoulders were wiggling as she restrained her laughter. Morris finally got the joke. She growled and smacked Edgar a glancing blow on her arm with her fan, muttering something about payback resembling a female dog.

  “So I should leave my mask on for this venture, eh?” Warren asked.

  “Tha air filter will do nothin’ fer certain smells,” Morris suggested.

  “Say no more,” Warren replied.

  Their carriage chugged and sputtered through the city streets. Fully automated vehicles were the only way to navigate Castor’s roads, being as the poisonous vapors were frequently so thick as to make manual driving nearly impossible or an even deadly proposition. They passed many other carriages of various designs and sizes. But all in all, traffic was light and they soon arrived at their destination. The replica of the Hansom cab slid to a stop and hissed loudly, venting steam.

  They donned their masks again, bent themselves nearly double to exit the cab and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Edgar motioned them to stand back as a local nanny dressed all in a gray uniform, swept by with five children following in her wake all in descending order of size, all tethered to her so as not to lose anyone in the dense fog. After they passed, Edgar led them into what looked like the mouth of an enormous drainage pipe that emptied out onto the main street.

  “This is where most of the ‘basement bosses’ live,” Edgar explained to Warren, her voice slightly muffled by the gas mask.

  Warren nodded. “Are they all transplants?”

  Edgar’s top hat bobbed. “Yes, all rejected from their home world by their families.”

  Warren looked about at the dim tunnel they were in. “Why?” he asked. “What could they have done that caused their families to reject them?”

  Morris sniffed. “Nothin’. Tha’s exactly why they’re here. They dinna become part of society. Instead they became a drain on it. They neva got a job, neva left home, neva dated, neva got married. They neva showed any inclination ta get oot an’ do anythin’ with their lives except sit home an’ bury themselves in social media. This entire tunnel system is populated with ’em and most ’ave barely opened their doors. They’ve neva even tried ta meet their neighbors who they live mere feet away from. They prefer to watch tings on ta Babbage an’ meet people tha way than go outside an’ actually talk to people face to face.”

  Warren shook his head. “So this is where they end up? Here doing nothing? That’s no life.”

  Edgar shook her head. “But that’s the way they want it. They expect the world to come to them, not the other way around. Voluntary hermits, if you ask me.”

  Edgar took her cane and rapped on the recessed round door of one living quarter. They waited. And waited, and waited. She knocked again, louder this time.

  They began to exchange doubtful looks among one another.

  “I sent him a message saying we’d be by,” Edgar explained. “He’s expecting us.”

  They continued to wait. The seconds turned into minutes.

  “It’s probably takin’ ’im a bit to dig ’imself out o’ tha chair ’e’s nested in,” Morris commented.

  Edgar sighed with impatience, hooked her cane over her arm and resorted to using her fist to hammer on the door, this time quite loudly.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Still nothing.

  “Maybe he died?” Warren suggested.

  Edgar gave him an irritated glance. Morris’ expression hinted she just might agree with the boy.

  Around them, other doors down the tunnel began to crack open the slightest bit and curious, fearful eyes peered out at them. But when they met their gazes, the doors were immediately slammed.

  Somewhere deep behind the door they stood in front of came a crash. Then the sound of lively cursing reached their ears. “Just a minute! I’ll be right there!” called a voice from beyond.

  “Dammit!” muttered Morris in disappointment. “Tha beast lives!”

  More cursing and the sound of sliding papers came to their ears. Shuffling footsteps made their way to the door. Then came the jangle of many locks being turned and muttering.

  The door popped open and a face peered out. The man had a round face and long, brown hair, going gray, tied back into a ponytail. Stray wisps had torn free. Thick-paned spectacles perched on the end of his wide nose. Bleary gray eyes peered up at them.

  “Edgar. is that you?” he asked.

  Edgar smiled and nodded. “Toggle! Good to see you!”

  “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow! I was trying to get the place picked up a bit,” he said beaming.

  Morris grunted in derision.

  Toggle heard her. His face shifted in her direction and his eyes lit up. “Morris!” he crowed in absolute delight. “And you are still a vision of loveliness, I must say! How delightful that you thought to come along. Well, come in! Come in! It’s dangerous out there.”

  He flung open the door to let them in.

  “It’s dangerous in ’ere!” Morris muttered to Warren. “’Ave a care. The filth might bite!”

  A funky smell no gas mask could filter, came wafting out into the street when the door opened.

  It was then Warren saw what they had warned him about.

  The entire apartment was jammed with stuff, every corner, every nook and cranny. He doubted the walls had seen the light of day for some time. There were books, magazines, bills, newspapers and all manner of things piled precariously as far as the eye could see. The place was a firetrap of junk.

  Toggle was wide in girth and short in stature. His shirt was stained and too short for his belly. His sweatpants had holes in the knees and some other places where there really shouldn’t have been holes. He wore no shoes. There was a sock on one foot and none on the other. The dirty toenails of the bare foot resembled an animal’s talons rather than a human being.

  He led them through the paper tunnel to the sitting room. They could tell this was where he spent most of his time. The only clear spot was an old, leather easy chair sitting in the exact center of the room with bare spots on the leather which had been repaired with gray, duct tape. There was a pile of clothes next to the easy chair, whether clean or dirty was anyone’s guess. The end table next to the chair was piled with dirty dishes, utensils and bags of partially eaten junk food. A large, old computer console sat in front of the easy chair surrounded by smaller screens, all from long obsolete brands. There was one, ancient, electric typewriter with a smudged keyboard to run all of them. The home screen was open to a video game paused with the character in the middle of a kill shot.

  Toggle went to sit down and noticed Warren for the first time. “Wait! Who’s the kid?”

  Edgar smiled and gestured. “Toggle, this is Warren. Warren, this is Toggle, leader of the ‘Basement Bosses’.”

  “
Stop that!” Toggle said and made a frustrated gesture with his fat hands.

  “Well, what do you want me to call you?” Edgar asked.

  “Call me ‘Master of the DenDragons’!” he recited proudly.

  Edgar frowned and said, “Okay… but why?”

  “Because ‘Basement Bosses’ sounds so… mafia,” he explained with a grimace of distaste. “Dragons are cool!”

  Edgar rolled her eyes and relented. “As you wish,” she replied.

  A red light on another screen began to flash and beep, demanding his attention.

  “Ya ’ave a message comin’ troo,” Morris alerted him.

  Toggle cringed slightly and waved it off. “That’s Mother dearest,” he explained. “She calls daily to check if I’m still alive and to bitch at me about everything I’m doing wrong in my life. I have guests. She can wait.”

  Morris raised an eyebrow but kept her opinions to herself.

  “I come bearing gifts,” Edgar said producing a small package from the pocket of her jacket.

  “Ah!” Toggle declared with delight and rubbed his hands eagerly. “You always bring the best gifts! So thoughtful of you, my dear.”

  Edgar handed the package over, being careful her black gloves did not make contact with him during the exchange.

  Toggle tore into the small paper package, tossing the wrapping aside to add to the growing pile of refuse behind him. He opened the box within and cooed with excitement like a child at Christmas.

  “Is this what I think it is?” he inquired with growing glee as he examined the object. “Oh! It is! A digital scrambler! I can finally listen in on the high up, muckity-mucks and they won’t know who’s spying. Excellent! Quite a capital gift, I must say! Thank you, thank you, Edgar my dear.”

  He set about hooking it up right away, babbling with abject happiness as he did so.

  “Of course, you want something in trade for it?” he prattled on. “Name it! For this I am yours to command.”

  Edgar smiled a truly malicious smile. “Information,” was all she said.

  Toggle replied with his own sneaky expression. “As you wish!” He happily obliged, settling down to the keyboard. “Ahem! Of what nature?”

  Edgar said not a word but her eyes shifted to Warren.

  “Ah! Quite right! Well then, let’s see, shall we?” he responded. “Normally digital and dial-up don’t speak to one another on this backward planet. But I have ways of making them play nice. Now… full and complete name?”

  Morris nudged the boy with her elbow. He started. “Oh! Um… Warren Corbie.”

  Toggle nodded and his fingers flew over the keys in a blur. The game on the screen disappeared. All of the surrounding screens blinked out. Two screens reappeared with static dancing in wavy lines. The main, large console made the unmistakable sound of a dial-up modem firing up and the screen came back in blue. Then it flickered.

  Next all the screens lit up with what seemed to be random letters and numbers. Some of the characters seemed Asian or Russian, one was musical notes, another was stick figures.

  “What the…” Edgar breathed in complete confusion. “What is all that?”

  One side of Toggle’s face turned upwards in a pleased smile. “That, my sweet sugar blossom, is the government’s way of confusing us to put us off the scent.”

  “Then it worked!” muttered Edgar.

  Toggle laughed triumphantly. “To you, maybe,” he bragged. “Not to me. Edgar, you are used to letters behaving as they are supposed to, in neat little rows making up polite sentences and in a clear format.”

  “But it’s all random!” she said in exasperation. “None of these are words. They’re just thrown together. It’s complete and utter gibberish.”

  “Unless they were never meant ta be words ta begin with,” Morris said as she pondered.

  Toggle chuckled. “And that is why you’re my favorite!” he declared. “Beauty and brains! How could I not fall for that?”

  “Keep yer pants on, Toggle,” Morris warned. “I’m not beddin’ ye fer that!”

  Toggle sighed in supreme disappointment and turned back to his work.

  “It’s all code,” he explained. “Cleverly encrypted to hide its true meaning from prying eyes. Unfortunately for the writer, I speak code and was raised on encryption. Would you like to know what they’re chattering about?” He aimed a teasing smile at the two women.

  “Git on with it!” Morris said, poking him with her fan.

  Toggle turned back and hammered the keys a few more times. Then he squinted at each screen in turn.

  “They may have different characters but they all say the same thing. ‘Find the key’,” he translated.

  Edgar’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Key? Wha’ key?” Morris grumbled with a frown.

  The large man shrugged. “Whatever it is, they seem very determined to get it. And they also seem to think you have it.” Toggle aimed his eyes at Edgar.

  The room seemed to hold its breath. Everyone was looking at her.

  “What else does it say?” Edgar prodded.

  Toggle turned back to his work and punched a few more keys. Edgar noticed the letters had worn off of some of them from constant usage.

  “This next passage seems to be about the boy,” he reported. “Warren, where were you born and raised?”

  Warren blinked a few times. “At Miss Madeline’s. I was their ward until I ran away and Morris and the Professor took me in.”

  Toggle shook his head in denial. “No, you may have been born and raised there but you were never their property. It says here that you belong to the government.”

  Warren’s jaw dropped and his face went white.

  “They also seem to be rather eager to get you back. Something about you being the missing link in the ‘Utopian Command’ project,” he said.

  “Well tha sounds sinister an’ I, for one, want nae part of it!” commented Morris.

  “Does it say anything about my parents?” Warren asked. “Who were they? Were they transplants? How did they come here?”

  Toggle frowned and muttered. “I’ll have to dig deeper for that. Gimme a sec…”

  He screwed up his entire face as his fingers flew. “Doctor Nathaniel Dodson and Edith Gwendolynn Corbie,” he recited at last. “Both scientists. Both originally came from an earth-based planetoid Victoria Prime.”

  “Hmph,” sniffed Morris. “The crème de la crème o’ planets with extra smart people. How did they end up ’ere?”

  Toggle shrugged. “Like everyone else who ends up here. They broke the law.”

  Morris growled.

  “How?” Edgar forcefully cajoled. “What was their crime? And specifics this time.”

  Toggle heaved a long suffering sigh. “You know, you could have just asked nicely. You’re not the only one who is curious.” He mumbled something unintelligible and spastically typed more, then waited. They all waited. “Hmm,” he hummed. “This is buried deep. They don’t want anyone to find it. Interesting.”

  Then all the screens went blank at the same time.

  “Uh-oh!” he breathed slowly. “That’s not good!”

  One of the smaller screens blinked back on with tiny letters. Toggle readjusted his spectacles to read the smaller print.

  “It says they were conducting experiments of an illegal nature,” he read slowly.

  “Illegal? How illegal? What were the experiments?” Edgar demanded.

  “Patience, my dear, it’s hard to focus. I’m reading it,” he cautioned and then continued to read the tiny script, mumbling all the while. He uttered a sudden gasp of horror. Then he quickly reached over and killed the power supply on the mess of wires under all the computers. Every screen winked out and went black.

  The women uttered a cry of confusion and disappointment.

  “Easy now!” he cautioned them with raised hands. “I pulled the plug before they could trace it back. I hope!”

  “But,” started Edgar. “That’s wha
t I gave you the scrambler for!”

  Toggle just shook his head. “Not from where this was coming from! They made that scrambler. Don’t you think they might know how to deflect it? But don’t worry. I read enough.”

  He swiveled in the chair to face them, and, with a sigh, folded his hands upon his ample stomach as he prepared to relate what he had learned.

  “Warren,” he began and his voice was serious. “Your parents were conducting experiments in psychic and clairvoyance studies. It seems your mother was naturally gifted in this regard and they were trying to see if the application of certain drugs into the system might increase the effects. What they didn’t know was that Edith was newly pregnant with you.

  “Now, for a very long time the scientific community has poo-pooed the idea of clairvoyance of any kind. They dismissed it in halls of learning as quackery and the beliefs of primitives. But when people continued to believe in it and interest in people with your mother’s gifts began to grow, the scientific community took it upon themselves to stamp it out at any and all costs on every world inhabited by humans in the Imperial Galaxy. Being as they had powerful friends in government, they could do that.”

  Warren took a deep breath and moaned. “The Psychic Purge.”

  Toggle nodded. “Apparently, it didn’t just apply to this world. It was all over the empire. Your father was publicly executed to make an example to the populace. It seems all his friends were on the wrong side of the issue.”

  “And Edith?” asked Edgar in a firm voice.

  “Edith, your mother, fled trying to get to the furthermost planet in the system and thereby find sanctuary. She booked passage on a charter vessel. By this time she knew she was pregnant with you. She tried everything to hide her appearance but halfway into the flight, her true identity was discovered and she was set adrift in an escape pod that was sabotaged. She crashed on Castor 5 and was rescued by the local inhabitants. Unfortunately, she was unconscious. They turned her over to the local hospital and while they were caring for her, they discovered who she was. She was put into a coma so that she couldn’t struggle or escape and turned over to the government doctors here on Castor 5. She was kept in a coma until your birth and then she was terminated.”