STASIS: Part 3: Restart

by E. W. Osborne

  “I was just saying, it’s great your friends are able to hang out here so much.”

  “Yeah, it uh… it wasn’t exactly supposed to be like this, but it’s cool.” He suddenly realized he was picking at his toenails and shifted violently, nearly kicking her in the process. He tried to cover by speaking over his awkwardness. “Wills lives on the other side of the country and can’t get back. Ian doesn’t want to leave Maggie and I don’t think Rachel has a very good home life.”

  “Really?”

  “They don’t seem all that upset she hasn’t come back. She only lives in New Jersey, which isn’t too far away.”

  Mallory bit at her lower lip and nodded solemnly. “Ian and Maggie are cute together.”

  More like sickening, he thought, but kept it to himself. He hoped uttering her name aloud wouldn’t summon her like some kind of demon. “I guess, yeah. That’s a pretty new thing.”

  He met her gaze, her auburn eyes flitting away after a brief moment. He’d waited so long to talk to her alone and the moment he was able, his nerves had him wanting to run from the room as fast as his legs could carry him. Still, he pushed through the nerves. If I can help her escape a super secret military compound, I can talk to her.

  She nervously toyed with the corner of a throw pillow. It was a little solace knowing he wasn’t the only one feeling the strain of the silence.

  “Thank you again for…”

  “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he breathed, feeling the color rise in his cheeks.

  Mallory bounced closer, her knee brushing his. “I’ll thank you for the rest of my life,” she replied insistently. “Getting me out of that place was seriously the best thing anyone has ever done for me. At least, as far as I know.”

  They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, long enough Neil wondered if she might want him to kiss her. But his stupid mouth got in the way and broke the spell. Plus, when she moved, he caught a whiff of the same body wash his mother used. It left him in a very strange state of arousal.

  “Do you still not remember anything?”

  She blinked away, looking almost guilty. “No, not really. I remember waking up in that cell, but nothing before it.”

  “Nothing? Not how you got there? Family? Where you’re from?”

  She shook her head. He noticed her eyelashes were still wet from crying. Maybe she was in here trying to be alone, a voice in his head suggested. She probably wanted to be alone, you ass. He decided to get out as gracefully as he could.

  “I’m sure you’re from somewhere close by and that your family is looking for you right now. Maybe we can put out a photo or something, try to find them.”

  Her hand shot out for his so quickly he gasped. “You can’t! What if they see it? What if they try to take me back there? Kristine said I’m the first person she’s heard of who’s woken up from the coma.”

  Neil comforted her the best he could, which wasn’t very well. But she was more than willing to let his pathetic efforts count double. He stiffly put his arm around her.

  “Okay, it’s okay. You’re completely safe here. We won’t go looking for your family until you feel ready, okay?”

  Mallory tried to speak, the words catching in her throat. She coughed and tried again, her pale cheeks reddening. “Do you want to go out some time?” Neil opened his mouth to reply, but she quickly cut in. “You know, when things get back to normal and everything.”

  He’d always been so terrible with girls. He’d never officially asked anyone out, let alone had someone ask him. He was so thrown off guard, it took him a few moments to formulate a response.

  Mallory pulled her hand away, moving to tuck that too-short strand of hair behind her ear again. “I’m sorry. That was probably way off. I know you and Rachel—”

  “Me and Rachel?” he laughed nervously. “No. No, no. No way.”

  She looked at him from the corner of her eye, doubtful yet eager to believe him.

  “Seriously! She’s just a friend. More like a sister, honestly.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes!” He was surprised how difficult it was to summon the courage to take her hand, but he pushed through it. The moment their skin touched, she slid closer, lips parted. He panicked. “I’d be delighted to go out with you.” He cringed, preparing for her to slide away, make an excuse and leave forever. That was the best thing he could think of? Jesus Christ… Delighted?

  She met his gaze, eyebrows twitching for a second, and smiled. “Or, you know, we have a date here.”

  “Here?”

  “Like Anne Frank did. Her first date was while they were hiding from the Nazis,” she said with a touch of seduction.

  His reaction tumbled out before he could filter or catch it. “And how well did that work out for them?”

  Mallory carried on undeterred. “The date went well, at least.” She looked down to their intertwined hands, expression slipping. “You’re sure there’s nothing going on between you and Rachel? I already get the feeling Maggie doesn’t like me, so I don’t want someone else hating me, too.”

  With the same forethought he used to deliver his delighted comment, he dove in headfirst trying to reassure her.

  “Listen, if I’m being honest, Rachel is more of a friend of a friend. I don’t think she has many of her own, so we let her hang out. When we had to split from college so quick, she kind of got wrapped up in it all. That’s why she’s here.”

  Mallory seemed convinced. She leaned forward to plant a kiss on his cheek. As the same scent of soap filled his senses, he tried to remember to get her something different before he developed a Pavlovian response to his mom’s bodywash.

  A loud thump pulled their attention to the wide entrance from the hallway. A thin figure, half-cast in shadows, hung in the threshold.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Rachel mumbled before dipping back into the darkness.

  He and Mallory looked at each other with concern for a moment, each silently wondering what she heard or seen. But their bliss quickly overwhelmed any worry at being caught. They’d found a sliver of happiness in a world that didn’t have much going around.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Alfreton, UK

  July 19th

  “Okay, that’s a good position there,” Alex muttered to himself. He fiddled with the focus on a set of exterior cameras he’d installed as a safety precaution. The videos were saved real time to a server in a warehouse somewhere on the southern coast. If anything were to happen to him, if this was really a trap, then at least the evidence would be saved.

  “Not that I can talk to anyone who cares,” he said to the empty room. Even so, I really need to stop talking to myself so much. “But then I’ll probably stop talking altogether.”

  He shook his arms and hands out, trying to release the nervous tension building in his body. Having strangers come over was stressful enough, but the exchange they were about to make made it a hundred times worse. He couldn’t remember the last time someone he’d invited had stepped foot in the house.

  Alex really tried to remember. It was important he not forget things like that. They were little pieces of a life he might want to hold on to. But the memory just wasn’t there. Family barbecues, a few of his mum’s friends, but it’d been so long… “Probably a birthday party…”

  Even though he was due to arrive in a few hours, he couldn’t stop himself from twitching the front curtain every couple minutes. Maybe he left early. Maybe there wasn’t a lot of traffic on the road.

  “Maybe he isn’t even a he.”

  The thought crumbled the little control he had left and sent him into a pacing, sweating mess. He’d assumed all along that The Gardener was a man, but what if it was a woman? How sexist of him! And the idea of woman walking into his house, seeing him in this state, was even more terrifying.

  “I have to change. I need to…”

  He rudely didn’t finish his own sentence before striding from the living room and up the stairs. He was s
o consumed with nerves, he didn’t realize how easy those few actions had become for him in recent weeks. The real difference stood out when he tried on old clothes he dug out from the back of the wardrobe. They weren’t loose exactly, but they weren’t tight. Living in t-shirts and elastic waistbands gave him no clue to how much weight he’d actually dropped. These clothes hadn’t fit in years.

  As he buttoned up a shirt he last wore to a funeral, he had to admit he was looking better. Still bald, still drenched with sweat, but noticeably slimmer. He didn’t go so far as to smile at his reflection, but it was the first time in years he didn’t cringe when he looked at himself.

  “You’re still a fat fuck, but there’s definitely a little less of you to hate.”

  Back downstairs, after checking the front of the house and finding it empty, he made sure everything was in place. Whether it was a moment of caution or paranoia, he’d created two separate drives to house his life’s work. He held one in each hand, looking at them in turn. They were identical in size and weight, one jet black the other a steely gray.

  Saved inside the black one was his genuine project in all its glory. Standing on the shoulders of the Dreamscape technology, it was a vision for a new way for humanity to connect and interact. Telephones, the Internet… these all changed the world in fundamental, irreversible ways. Alexander King, a fat outcast who hid in fear from the world, would be the one to unite everyone together. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

  It wasn’t finished, it wasn’t even close. But if The Gardener was half the coder he suspected, he might be the only person to help him see his dream become a reality.

  He considered the gray drive in his other hand. It was his imagination, but it felt lighter. There was no way The Gardener would be able to tell the difference until he dug into it, but he felt it nonetheless. The program inside was fundamentally flawed. It wasn’t that he’d scrambled a few things here and there to make it inaccessible. He’d nicked away at the entire structure, making it appear whole but ultimately useless. If he needed Alex’s project, than maybe he didn’t have the skills to create it himself.

  If the situation arose that he’d have to give him the dummy, he needed to believe it himself. All the best poker players played their opponents, not the cards. He could only hope The Gardener wasn’t good at poker.

  Two hours later, the sound of a car door slamming shut in his drive made him jump. He’d been checking the window every two minutes but somehow missed the moment the car rolled up.

  “Shit!” he hissed, rushing to the monitor displaying the outside cameras.

  All he could see was the back of a hooded head. The person was looking behind toward the drive, as if waiting for someone.

  “Why didn’t he knock or ring the bell?”

  The figure turned, pulling the hood back. A beautiful cascade of coppery curls fell across her shoulder. She ran her fingers through it once, smoothing it into place.

  “Double shit…” he groaned. He had assumed wrongly. A woman coming into his home was bad enough, but a gorgeous one was about his worst nightmare.

  Alex looked around the room with a fresh pair of eyes, as if seeing the space from her perspective.

  “How could I have ever thought this was clean?”

  Ignoring the bell, there was a gentle rap on the door. Heart pounding, head swimming, he walked to the door absolutely convinced he was about to have a heart attack from stress. With a hand on the doorknob, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened it.

  “Hello! Welcome!”

  She blinked a few times, her expression betraying nothing but kindness. Alex was positive she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in real life.

  “Hi,” she smiled.

  “You made good time,” Alex gushed. He could sweat rolling down his sides. The fabric in the back already stuck to his skin and he kicked himself for thinking he could pull off a light blue shirt.

  “I suppose so.” Her eyes dropped to the left, almost turning to look behind.

  With his interactions with woman at a minimum, he thought maybe he’d already said or done something wrong. He cleared his throat and opened the door wider.

  “Please, come in Gardener.”

  She scrunched her face as if smelling something gross. “Gardener?” She looked down at her own outfit, a slim-fitting yet demure gray sleeveless dress. The knee-high leather boots were far less conservative. “You think I’m your bloody gardener? In this?”

  Alex’s throat felt as though it were about to close. He panicked. He’d assumed this was the person he was waiting for, but maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding. He opened his mouth to say something when a voice from around the corner called out.

  “Have you knocked or—oh! Hello there,” the man said as he stepped into view. He extended his hand with a friendly smile. Alex took it, mouth still silently working. “The name is Julian and this is Harriet.”

  Thin, tall, handsome. He had an air about him that just screamed money and class. His perfectly matched trousers and shirt looked tailor made for his body, rolled and tucked and pinned in all the right places. The pair of them looked as though they’d just stopped by after shooting a fashion video.

  Alex stammered a polite response, hating how moist his palms were when they shook hands. Neither of their smiles faltered in the slightest, which was even stranger. An awkward pause prompted Julian to look to Harriet.

  She stepped forward and touched Alex’s arm. “It’s been a long trip. Would you mind if I…”

  He was so taken aback by these almost alien people appearing on his doorstep, he forgot to clarify who they were. “Of course! Please, come in. Please. Loo is upstairs to the left,” he pointed, cringing. Why didn’t I think to clean upstairs? Shit. Is my bedroom door even shut. This is just…

  “Lovely home you have here,” Julian said as he looked around. He craned his neck into the living room and nodded approvingly. “Set up for productivity.”

  “Uh, yeah, definitely. So you’re here for the…”

  “The software, yes.”

  Alex was so relieved, his next statement wasn’t even a question. He more breathed the word than said it. “Gardener.”

  “Hypnos,” the man grinned, extending his hand once more. “Exciting times, huh?”

  He laughed nervously. “You know how I feel about those,” he replied, referencing their previous conversation.

  Julian’s eyes tightened a touch but he didn’t reply.

  “You uh… you look familiar. Are you sure we haven’t met?” Alex asked. He couldn’t ignore the strange tickle of recognition, which was strange given the utmost secrecy surrounding all their conversations.

  He pursed his mouth and made a show of thinking. “No, I don’t believe so. I’m pretty good with faces, too.”

  They made small talk, standing awkwardly in the living room until the beauty from upstairs returned.

  “This place is so cute!” Harriet glided down the stairs, barely making a sound. Since his mother had left, Alex couldn’t remember a time when the stairs didn’t groan and complain with use. “So much better. Thank you,” she said sweetly, gliding to Julian’s side. They didn’t touch, but there was a definite familiarity there even Alex couldn’t miss.

  “I was only expecting one person,” he stammered, finding himself staring at the tiny space between their bodies.

  Julian and Harriet looked at each other. It was nearly impossible to read their expressions, but he finally replied, “We work well together. Shall we get started?”

  “Sure. Before we start, can I get you a cup of tea? Kettle just boiled,” Alex offered.

  “That’d be lovely. We both take it black, no sugar,” Harriet replied, looking around for a place to sit. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

  Alex was half way to the kitchen. “No, no. Make yourselves comfortable.” He caught a fleeting image of them looking for a clear space to sit, which made him cringe even more.

  He popped the ke
ttle back on and used the few moments alone to collect himself. He was so flustered, he nearly dropped one of the mugs as he collected it from the cupboard. With balled up fists, he squeezed his eyes shut and called himself an impressive list of names. He ended the tirade with a pep talk.

  You can do this. You have to do this.

  In focusing so much on making a good impression, he almost missed the glaringly obvious inconsistencies staring him in the face.

  “Theoretically, how would you go about accessing Seeds?”

  Alex frowned but didn’t turn away from the monitor. He ran the sentence through his mind a couple times, sure he had heard incorrectly. The question was odd, given the code Julian just handed over was apparently going to do just that. “What do you mean exactly?”

  Julian leaned on the back of his computer chair, rocking him back. He didn’t seem to notice or care. “Well, like a specific Seed. Can you go directly into one in particular and nose about?”

  Alex had originally tried to buy more time to feel the situation out. At this point he was typing basic commands into the terminal, things anyone with an ounce of technical knowledge would’ve been able to recognize. Combined with this new bizarre line of questioning, the alarm bells in his head were deafening.

  He slammed a definitive return on the keyboard and turned slowly in his chair. “You aren’t The Gardener, are you?”

  Julian blinked a few times as if the words were in another language. He looked to Harriet whose only response was a slight twitch of her shoulder. She’d contributed as much to the conversation as the chair she’d plopped herself in.

  “Are you?” Alex asked, directing it toward her.

  Julian laughed and slid his hands into his tight trouser pockets. “No, sorry. You’ve been speaking to is my father. Did he not make it clear we were coming instead?”

  “He did not.” His head hurt. There were too many moving parts. He was good at multitasking, but not when it came to people. People weren’t numbers and facts and lines of code. They were messy and lied and smiled as they slipped a knife between your ribs.