by DeVere, Taya
“Margaret knows you will help me. Because you need us.”
Dennis is too stunned to laugh.
“You need us to protect you.”
“Protection? That’s what you’re offering in exchange for hours in a state-of-the-art lab with the world’s best brain surgeons and coders?”
“That’s right.”
“Protection from whom? The chipless hippies at the winery?” Dennis blows air through his lips. “Sorry, doll. But I think I’m all set.”
“But you’re not. You’re in danger. You just don’t know it yet.”
His laugh is sincere. No matter how ridiculous Maria’s attempt to get help, this is a hundred times more entertaining than four hours of The Best of Me.
Dennis leans forward on the gaming chair, folding his fingers. “And what kind of danger am I in? Is Margaret going to attack my brain again? Sweetheart, though that was an impressive trick, it’s also an old one. I’ve had my firewall updated multiple times since her last visit.”
“It’s not Margaret. This is not us blackmailing you. We’re offering our help before they come for you.”
“And who would that be? Who’s coming for me?”
Maria sits taller on the floor. She takes her time replying, emptying the mug of cooled hot chocolate down her throat. Licking her lips, she then tilts her head and stares deep into Dennis’s eyes. “Headquarters.”
Dennis bursts out laughing. Boy-oh-boy is this fun.
“My own employer is coming after me? Solomon Foundation, attacking one of its own?” Dennis gets up from the chair and walks to the closed balcony doors. In the distance, the green city glows and glimmers like the multi-billion-credit treasure it is. His treasure.
“Oh, Maria, Maria, Maria… there are things you don’t know.”
“Like what? That letter Doctor Solomon sent you? Power of attorney?”
Dennis turns around and stares at the woman, still sitting in the middle of his living room floor. “How the hell would you know about that?”
Struggling, Maria gets up from the floor. She walks over to Dennis’s gaming chair, presses the satin sheet into a neat ball, and sets it down on the seat. “I know that she put you in charge. I also know that you’ve tried to reach her multiple times since then, never succeeding. Just as I know that you’re afraid to take the lead, because you’d rather see Laura Solomon face to face in one of your AR-rooms before taking action.”
Son of a bitch. How on earth? Fascinating.
When Maria tilts her head, she winces. The pain killers help but clearly not enough. “Are you ready to hear us out now?”
“Us? Lewis is a mole. A traitor. She betrayed the foundation. Why would I listen to anything she has to say? How could I ever trust her again?”
“Because your life depends on it. Because you don’t have a choice.”
Dennis thinks of the odd document Laura sent him weeks ago. He’s still not sure which was more unusual for the head of the Happiness-Program: to make so many typos in an official document, or to give so much power to anyone but herself. Doctor Solomon has been ruling the whole world—or what’s left of it—for years now. Why the sudden change of heart? Taking a vacation would be too much against Laura’s usual pattern. And why not deliver this news to Dennis in person? Why not meet him in the VIP-room for ten minutes, like she so often has when delivering much less significant news?
He starts toward the kitchen, waving for Maria to follow him. Is she in that much pain? Is she really that desperate? She must be. The story she’s singing is simply ridiculous. But Dennis wants to keep her here for a bit longer. For entertainment purposes, if nothing else.
By the stove, he clicks on a food printer he’s never used. Dennis gestures for Maria to go and sit by the counter where she won’t be affected by the painful glare. Once the woman is sitting down, Dennis places his mug under the nozzle and presses the button for hot chocolate.
“Did you bring your mug?”
“What?”
“For cocoa. Where’s your mug?”
A pause. Maria’s getting antsy. She’s not here to socialize, Dennis knows, but he needs time to gather his thoughts. Just because he doesn’t believe a word Maria’s told him, it doesn’t mean he won’t play along.
“It’s still out there.”
“In the living room?”
“Yeah.” Another pause. “Do you want me to go get it?”
Is that a peace offering? A tiny slice of common ground?
“That’s all right,” Dennis opens the kitchen cupboard above the printer and takes out a fresh mug. “I got another one right here.”
Two steaming cups of hot chocolate in his hands, Dennis walks to the counter. He places one drink in front of Maria and takes a seat at the bar two chairs away from her. Something tells him this safety gap is good thinking.
“So. Where were we? Ah, yes.” Dennis runs his finger on the edge of his mug, smiling. “Doctor Solomon, turning against me. This is rich, I have to hand it to you. But there’s a flaw in your bluff, doll.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“There’s a flaw in your bluff, Maria.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“Well, think about it. First, Solomon gives me the legal rights to her life’s work. And trust me, I’ve had my lawyers go over that document more than a dozen times. It’s solid.”
“Mm.”
“So I’m now in charge of the Happiness-Program, the AR-cities, the politics beyond the city lines…”
“You mean killing Unchipped and chipless people?”
“Well, now. Given the way the world is these days… I mean, you’ve done it too, while you lived in the mansion. Killed people.”
“Yeah, I did. Because I had to. Came up with this bullshit reality where harmless trespassers entering your land were the most dangerous and unacceptable thing in existence.” Maria slides the mug forward on the counter and folds her arms. “So, yes. We played along. It was a job. My whole life depended on it. And what makes you think I killed them? Hm? Maybe I just spooked them away. Not everyone blindly follows their employer's commands. Not everyone is a sick fuck like you.”
So, so, so much fun. Dennis feels like a new AR-room has suddenly opened, popping out of nowhere. Thrilling. Challenging. Her sitting here, calling him names. Flawed. Gorgeous. The perfectly imperfect Maria.
He raises his hands for a truce. “Okay, maybe we got a bit sidetracked here. Project Mansion is ancient history at this point. The rats and rattlesnakes run the place now, as far as I know. Let’s get back to Laura Solomon and your ballsy bluff attempt. Tell me, why does our good doctor first bump me up to rule her empire… just to attack me a few weeks later? Admit it, doll—umm—Maria. It makes no sense.”
“Agreed. It makes zero sense. Ninguno.”
Dennis spreads his hands. “So, that’s it? This is all there is to your masterplan? Gotta tell you… I was expecting a shit-ton more from the great Margaret Lewis—”
“It’s not Solomon who’s after you.”
Dennis stares at her, forgetting to close his mouth. “Ooh, really? Please. Tell me more.”
“It’s not Laura Solomon who has signed the order for you to be eliminated.”
“Eliminated?” Dennis tries to keep a serious face but fails miserably. “You’re right. This does sound serious. Maybe I should come with you right now and beg Lewis to hide me in some moldy rebel base outside the city.”
“Fine. Don’t believe me,” Maria gets up to leave. “It’s your sorry-ass life, not mine.”
She’s leaving? Shit. Just as it was getting interesting! Dennis drums the counter with his fingers, thinking hard.
“Hold on.”
Maria stops and turns around. She takes a few steps back toward Dennis, moving like a black cat in the night. Gorgeous, deadly, heavenly… A couple more steps and she’ll be close enough. Dennis will be able to reach out his hand, caress that scarred face, run his fingers over—
“Spit it ou
t, Texas.”
“Just because I didn’t fall for this little scheme of yours,” he grins at Maria, “Doesn’t mean that I won’t help you.”
Her eyes narrow, maybe because of pain, maybe something else. There must be a reason why she has come to him. Why, after everything that has happened between them, she’s still willing to trust Dennis enough to try and pull this desperate scam. To enter his home. Maybe this tingling feeling isn’t just him. Maybe—
“What are you saying? That you’ll fix my brain?”
“I will.”
“But if you don’t believe you’re in danger, then what’s in it for you?”
I’ll get to see you again. Hear your voice. See your feline movements. Exist in the same space as you.
“Call it a peace offering. For what you had to do while you lived in the mansion.”
“And the winery.”
“Sure thing. That too. I’m a man of my word. You come back next week, and I’ll have my team at the Chip-Center ready for you.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Excuse me?”
“Bring your team to the winery tomorrow at noon. And don’t bother with any funny business. It’ll be just me there. Margaret and the rest of the community have moved away.”
“Moved away where?”
Maria scoffs. “Really?” She walks back to the kitchen doorway, those dazzling eyes now facing away from Dennis. “You won’t find Margaret. You won’t find the other outcasts. Just me.”
Dennis spreads his hands. “So be it. You and me. Let’s leave everyone else out of it.”
“Just because I had to come to you with this doesn’t make us allies. I’m still an outcast. You’re still an asshole. Nothing has changed.”
“Hey, whoa. Enough with the name-calling. And I get where you’re coming from, I do. But it’ll make much more sense to do this at the Chip-Center where it’s sanitary and—”
“Yeah, no. Never going to happen. You’ll need to kill me first. I’m not stepping into that hell center ever again. You’re bringing your team to the winery. I don’t care how inconvenient it is to you. End of discussion.”
Dennis stares at her, admiring the authority of her tone. A little broken bird, talking back to its master. They both know it; it would take one AR-call, and Dennis could have her back in the Chip-Center in a matter of thirty minutes. Plugged in and switched off, just like before.
“I guess we do have that mobile field hospital, collecting dust in storage.”
Maria gives him a quick, dry smile. “Thought you might.”
Dennis stares at her a while longer. What could he possibly say to make this woman see that he’s not the enemy here? “Well, okay then. I’ll send my team. Better yet, I’ll be there to supervise the procedure myself.” Dennis spreads his chest and stands taller. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
Her laughter. Mocking, maybe, but still like saints and sirens singing.
“Too little, too late. Be there or don’t be there. Just get it done.”
She’s leaving. What else, what else? Something to keep her here a minute longer. Anything to catch her focus.
“Wait!”
Maria stops again, but she keeps her back turned to Dennis. Her fingers drum on the doorframe.
“What if the assassin comes for me tonight?”
Will she play along? Even though Dennis had been too smart to fall for her little conspiracy?
“She won’t.”
It’s Dennis’s time to laugh. “I’m sorry. She?”
Maria turns. Her eyes drill into his. “Sure. Laugh away. But you won’t be laughing when she slices and dices your sexist ass.”
He raises his hands, gesturing for a truce. “Understood. One hundred percent. Either way, just saying… wouldn’t it be safer if you spent the night?”
Maria scoffs and taps the wall twice before she walks away. “Why would I? You said it yourself, it’s just something Margaret and I came up with. Right? But if I were you, I’d at least consider taking a break from your fake-ass AR-world.” She leaves the room, calling back to him on her way out. “Keep your eyes open, Texas.”
***
As the limo climbs the meandering mountain road, Dennis stares at the empty seat next to his. Last time he was here, on this same remote road outside the green city, Maria had been sitting next to him. Now he sits alone, his self-driving vehicle accompanied by two vans, one driving in front and one following behind the limo.
Recruiting the team was easy. No paperwork needed. This little road trip of theirs wouldn’t leave a digital mark anywhere. True, Dennis has shied away from using the power Doctor Solomon has unexpectedly provided him with. But all the Chip-Center staff is still aware of him climbing up the ladder and taking over the kingpin’s position. They will do as they’re told. At least those who work closely with Dennis will.
Dennis wishes Maria would meet him in one of the rooms, instead of this eerie dump yard in the middle of nowhere. It’s much easier to make a good impression with bubbly champagne and smooth jazz. It’s no secret: Dennis is not Maria’s favorite. At least not at the moment. He’s the one who drove her here last time. The one who turned her into a cold-blooded killer back at the mansion. There’s a lot the two need to work on to find common ground. But still. Something has made Maria trust him. Deep down, she must care.
“Park here,” he says, and the limo stops by a row of dead vines. The vans park on each side of the limo, their side doors sliding open. The neon green lights fade down as the vehicles go to sleep. A team of nine workers pulls out a tent and equipment while the whitecoats, assistants and programmers step outside with their AR-glasses on. One by one, they remove the glasses to look around. Some take in the unusual scenery in awe, some in disgust.
Dennis steps out of the limo. “Between here and the taco stand,” he says, gesturing toward a rusty pink van in the distance. “Let’s set it up.”
“Where’s the test subject?” one of the whitecoats asks.
“That’s none of your concern,” Dennis says but spins around, looking for Maria. “Or it will be, once you’re operating… Just, give me a moment, will you?”
No sign of her. There is no sign of any kind of life, unlike the last time he was here. The winery is blanketed in weeds and uncanny silence. “Just do your job. I’ll find her.”
While the team starts to set up the mobile field hospital, Dennis walks over to the picnic tables. This is where the two chipless rebels died—by Maria’s hand, but by Solomon’s command. He keeps walking until he’s near the pink food truck. The service window is still open, but a thick layer of dust tells Dennis the hippies haven’t cooked or dined here for some time. He leans forward to get a better look inside. His head bumps into a frying pan hanging from the ceiling. Dodging the cookware, Dennis turns his head to look around inside the van. The smell of taco seasoning and fried fish still lingers inside.
He hears the loud clicking sound of a round being chambered. A cold muzzle pressed against his temple, Dennis freezes in his uncomfortable posture, half in and half out of the service window. In his peripheral vision, he sees a familiar face with narrowed eyes.
“There you are, doll,” he says but doesn’t turn his head to look at Maria. She presses the gun more painfully against his head.
“I told you not to fucking call me that.”
Dennis raises his hands, chuckling nervously. “Okay, okay. My bad.” He pauses and waits for Maria to pull the gun away. She doesn’t move an inch. “You do know that my surgeon won’t agree to help you if I’m dead, right?”
A longer pause. “Just reminding you that I’m in charge. I need to stay safe.”
“What, from me? Why would I ever hurt you?”
“You’ve already hurt me, Dennis.”
“Oh, come on. What happened to calling me Texas?”
“What happened to not calling me a piece of plastic property that you stare at to feel better about your small di—”
“Okay, whoa
, hey. I won’t call you a doll. Ever again.”
Finally, she lowers her gun. While murmuring something in Spanish, Maria walks out of the taco stand. Dennis takes the opportunity to lean back and get himself out of the trap that is the serving window. The armed Unchipped woman stands a few feet away, her back turned to Dennis. He doesn’t walk to Maria. Better to wait for her next step. Like a wounded animal, she’s unpredictable right now—an injured wolf with a weapon. Something flutters in Dennis’s stomach, and it’s more pleasant than any sensation he’s ever felt in any of the AR-dating rooms.
Briefly, Maria points her gun toward the medical tent, rising some sixty feet away. “They about ready?”
“Just about. Only missing their patient.”
“And you’re sure they can help me?”
Dennis smiles and takes a careful step closer to Maria. “Sure as hell better than I ever could. This science mumbo-jumbo, electric circuits and whatnot is not my strongest suit.”
He wishes that Maria would ask what his strongest suit is. That he could tell her how he once took the raw seed of a moderate business initiative—an idea of a better world—and molded it into a dominant, multi-billion CC operation that is now known as the Happiness-Program and which functions as the world’s principal governing body. Or she could just ask about his likes and dislikes. That’d do. What kind of tacos he’d order, if this joint was still up and running? Does he drink his coffee black or with milk or cream? Shoe size? Favorite AR-channel? Anything personal to show that she cares.
But Maria stays quiet, staring at the tent.
After a minute of silence, Dennis takes another careful step closer to Maria. When her gun arm stiffens, Dennis raises his hands again, then points at the tent. “Okay, yes, I get it. You have a gun, I don’t. You don’t like nicknames, and I’m a piece of shit. Understood. But we should probably get going. Or have you changed your mind?”
“That depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“Whether you’ll honor our deal or not. You don’t seem to get that you have a price on your head. And something tells me that you’re not helping me out of the goodness of your heart. Or whatever rotting piece of meat beats in your chest.”
