by Marcus Sloss
Every eye looked back at me intently, caught up in my tale. “I thought that was the end of it,” I shrugged, “I was naïve enough to believe they would play by the rules, but, as I found out later, the Army desperately needed to beef up their enlistments without telling the public a war was coming, and they were prepared to do whatever it took to get them.”
“I had another physical exam slated for the following day. Blood was extracted from my right hand, and …” I held up my synthetic arm, and paused, waving my fake fingers in their pretend skin covering. My mind instantly returned me to a moment I will never forget and I clenched my unnatural fist to contain the frustration and anger it stirred. The next parts of my tale were dark.
“If you trust the government, you should not. Within eight hours, the injection site from my ‘routine’ blood work morphed into a horrendous black mark. The frightening coloration indicated tissue sclerosis—decay that included gnarled, shriveling skin. Those vile bastards were waiting. When I screamed for relief from the sudden, overwhelming torment, the response was instantaneous.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“This is where I struggled to accept my fate,” I continued, once I got myself under control. “I lost my right hand in an emergency amputation less than an hour later. I was given a nub cover and told that would be the extent of what limited therapy the jail would provide. They blamed my most unfortunate accident on a bad needle that a rat must have mysteriously contaminated. The investigation came back inconclusive, and the file was sealed.”
“Ironically,” I mused, “they were willing to give me drugs—the same kind of drugs that landed me in jail. A week later, the two sour suits showed back up for a ‘follow up’ appointment to see if I’d changed my mind. My deal had been sweetened. Imagine my surprise when I was offered a hand worth more than what my high-priced lawyer of a father made in a year.” I whirled on the startled girl. “And Frankie, before you insist that my father should have saved me from jail, he disowned me when he reviewed my case ... literally threw me to the prosecutor’s wolves with a fresh under-schooled and overworked public defender. The two sergeants weren’t taking no for an answer, and I was terrified. I may have slipped down a path that was dumb, but I am not an idiot. The cause and effect of my situation was clearly evident; and, I thought, if they literally were willing to kill my hand for rejecting their first offer, what was next?”
Willow rested her hand on my thigh to get my attention. “You want to get coffee? I see how much pain this story is dredging up,” she said assertively. “You don’t have to bare your soul to everyone … I think I understand you came here to woo me.” She smiled. “Consider me interested.”
A mischievous grin tugged at the corner of my lips. This was exactly what I was hoping to hear, and it came earlier than I expected it.
“That’d be lovely,” I said, struggling to get out of the horrid contraption they called a chair. Willow rose with me. “The rest of my story is very interesting, but I want to know more about you also.”
“Your story is so compelling,” Mrs. Teller pleaded, in an attempt to get me to stay, “Won’t you please continue?”
Reba folded her arms, rolled her eyes, and scoffed. “This old man just said he is leaving. Why do you want to hear his story so bad?”
“Damnit, Reba!” Mrs. Teller shouted, letting her anger slip. The red-faced woman clutched her fists tightly, trying to check her reactions. “I read his profile. That ‘old man’ is a war hero. He is ‘Captain Moostache’.” She glared at the girl. “Yes, that one, Reba. Even I watched his videos and he was about to tell us what really happened to those pour souls left behind in Saudi Arabia. The government concluded his cognizant predictability of probable outcomes is off the charts. The fact that he said Willow needed to hear something vital leads me to believe he knows something important.” She stared at me as we turned to leave, “I personally want to hear what is so important.”
Her remark caused me to stop. My talent with probabilities was not in the file that I let her see. While I could determine likely outcomes to most scenarios to an uncanny degree, I had not foreseen this outcome. Maybe I was slipping? No, I was distracted by recent events. I would have to improve and focus. Obviously, Mrs. Teller had inside information that was extremely hard to come by. My mind dove into my Gpad to scan through her acquaintance network until I found what I had missed earlier.
“Mrs. Teller,” I waved my finger back and forth in front of me. “Using your sister’s credentials at G-Corp to get into the restricted Gpad databases. Tsk, tsk. Though I do applaud your ingenuity, Gina. I feel we are on a first name basis, given the circumstances.” I smirked. “Please ignore what you saw in my file and instead investigate what is being said about the asteroid that is quickly becoming the top story in all the news feeds.”
“Asteroid?” she asked, “The one that they keep getting the timer wrong about? What are you implying?”
“Look into it. I may have heard that there is a reason it keeps speeding up ... Which an asteroid cannot do.” I shrugged. “Or you could be right, their estimates may be wrong and I have been tricked by someone I trust.”
I gently tugged on Willow’s wrist to turn us back towards the exit. My right arm slipped around her shoulders as we walked for the door. She gave a giggle at my audacity and returned the gesture, wrapping her arm around my waist. I gave a goodbye wave over my shoulder with my left hand and ignored the pleading for me to finish or explain more. I came to this meeting to save Willow; now I merely had to convince her to join me in what came next. I turned our steps towards the coffee house. That was a great place to continue our conversation.
CHAPTER 2
The warm spring air brought with it the scent of freshly cut grass. The landscapers pushed metallic reel mowers in the patchwork fields isolated by red brick pathways. The lush grass was being trimmed, the dividing lines edged, and bushes pruned without the snarl of a single motor. The clacks, clanks, and snips of the manual tools was soothing. Behind the workers, a tall yellow buckeye tree bloomed in golden radiance a full two months early. Students posted endless fliers around the campus that this was the fate of our civilization. Global warming was here and the trees seemed to confirm this hypothesis by blossoming in early March. Another contentious issue I avoided.
Willow and I walked the second-floor corridor towards the nearest stairwell. Our footsteps echoed in the stairwell as we descended to the communal area. Beyond the pleasant park setting, the horizon consisted of many low-rise buildings. The University of Denver was old, with plenty of historical structures still standing. Their faded brown brick construction fueled a nostalgic ambiance, reminiscent of earlier and supposedly care-free days that the newer sections of the campus lacked. I found there was beauty and character in the preserved structures that pleased me.
“I’m surprised they didn’t follow us out,” Willow said, darting glances behind us. “Where do you want to get coffee?”
“Um… How about we take a walk through Gulch Park? It isn’t too far. We can walk there, or you can ride on my handlebars?” I said with a slightly embarrassed chuckle.
Willow whipped her loose pink hair over her shoulder and gave me a side-long stare. Due to the proximity of my dorm room to my classes, the convenience of a nearby Safeway, and my hermit lifestyle, I never required a car. There were electric auto taxis all over the city if I needed to get to the airport or somewhere further than my bike or legs could take me.
“Pass on the tandem bike ride,” she snorted. “How about we walk there and taxi back?”
“Works for me. Do you want to ask me some questions or should I continue my story?” I asked.
Now that I knew where we were going and how we were getting there, I cut east across the school quad towards Cliff Avenue. I loved walking the streets of Denver, especially on a nice day like this one. The city had been good to me since I arrived. Of all the places to land after I was discharged, I never expected to end up in Colorado. My exit or
ientation happened to include a recruiter from the university who briefed us on an effort to assist veterans. Apparently, the University of Denver (DU) had a history of helping veterans that dated back to the middle of the 20th century, booming after World War II with a surplus of combat veterans attending the school. I was part of an initiative to re-establish the history the school had with those who had served with honor. His pitch to come to DU was solid and the University offered extreme discounts and subsidies for my dorm, on campus food, and electronic books. Even though I was only in my second semester here, I loved DU and Denver. The mid-morning foot traffic was light as Willow and I paused at the college entrance off Cliff Ave.
“Sorry for the delay. I got lost in thought. I guess can we start with why you’re finally showing so much interest in me, when it took you so long to even make eye contact or say more than hello these last few months?” Willow asked, giving me a friendly hip check. Her brow creased in thought and she gave me a speculative look. “I’m not dumb. You’re basically insinuating that asteroid is not an asteroid. You’re finally asking me on a date with it arriving, what ... in three weeks?”
We went single file as a mom ran by with twins in a jogging stroller. We exchanged friendly waves with the little girls, who appeared to be enjoying the ride as they flew by. I stepped back up to Willow’s side and slid my hand into hers. The sensors in my hand cybernetic hand indicated her palms were slightly sweaty as she squeezed my hand. She must be nervous.
I took a deep breath to collect my thoughts. “If we’re facing the end of the world as we know it, I don’t want to do so alone.” I shrugged, “Look Willow, it’s 2032. Pulling information on someone is not only easy to do, it is the first thing folks do when they find themselves interested in someone. I checked you out online after we exchanged glances in class; it just took we a while to realize I wanted to come out this shell I have buried myself in since Saudi.” I smiled at her, “You pulled me out of my shell. We waved to each other in passing. We started to greet each other in the hallway. And for the last month, I know I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know more about you during our between class conversations. We have a brewing romance that I would rather not abandon. I like you Willow. I think you like me. Have you pulled up my information?”
“Yes, of course I have.” She blushed, “I may have done some mild stalking of you when you caught my interest. I dug into your past, but was unable to find much. You are a war veteran, single, and the rest is mostly restricted.” She frowned. “Like your cybernetic arm was not in your data. You have been an okay student. You don’t appear to be a player—unless you’ve got another hacked social media account.”
I shook my head.
“I even checked in with the other girls in our classes to see if you had flirted with any of them, but you apparently have only shown attention to me from what I can tell. You’re being patient, while being respectful. I thoroughly enjoyed our small talk and find my stomach tightening with butterflies around you,” Willow said, blushing at her admission. “Sorry if my checking up on you upsets you; you’re forgiven for stalking me online.”
“I didn’t dig too deeply. Only enough to see what you were going for as a degree and where you came from.” I pointed a finger at the black box across the street. Her gaze shifted. “The walk sign is active,” I said, and we crossed the street.
The sidewalks were wide and the streets were gorgeous this time of year. Black wrought iron fencing separated the sidewalk from the old brick home on our right. On our left, full green-leaved trees were surrounded by plush well-maintained grass. Not a single weed grew in the divider between the road and the sidewalk. A cool breeze tempered the warm spring sunshine, making it a great day for a casual walk. The sidewalks were busy with people fleeing the indoors to smell the fresh air and enjoy the end of winter weather that Denver was infamous for.
Two types of vehicles drove down the busy street. A few spewed loud exhaust from their older petroleum combustion motors. These were relics, in a sense, as electric vehicles had become cheaper and the de facto basis for all new models. Their blocky forms, rumbling noises and exhaust fumes stood out in stark contrast to the sleek and nearly silent electrics. Denver prohibited new vehicle sales that contained combustion engines. There was a big political fight over outlawing non-electric vehicles that was hard to avoid getting caught up in. My Gpad spared me most of the electronic back and forth, thankfully, due to my disabled veteran PTSD status. I claimed excessive political ads triggered my anxiety. It gave me the perfect excuse to shut out the noise and leaned on that crutch to keep the endless din of politics and its continuous banter at bay.
A man was pulled by his rambunctious lab as the duo flowed around us. The dog was on a determined mission to pee on every tree on this block as he sped ahead. I smiled, thinking about what owning a dog would be like. There was an emotional tug on my heart when I contemplated being responsible for any life beyond my own. After Saudi, I tried to sever any and all connections with the onus of accountability. And now I had succumbed to the tug and jumped off that cliff with Willow. Strangely, it wakened a part of me I had thought died in the sands of the desert. She glanced at me a few times to ensure I was done with my introspection and ready for her to continue talking. I smiled at her to reassure her I was back in the moment.
“My father was a soldier. He died when I was little. He was manning a checkpoint to ensure the citizens of Kabul were safe in the green zone downtown. A thirteen-year-old boy blew them both up,” Willow said with a painful sigh. She traced her right thumb over the back of my hand that held hers. I paused, knowing what she needed, and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk. With a swift, firm tug, I pulled her into a tight embrace. Her face burrowed into my chest and I stroked her hair like we were lovers. “Why do I feel so drawn to you?” she muttered against my t-shirt.
“When was the last time a man vied for your affection so patiently?” I asked. She chuckled.
“You mean actually trying to get to know me like you have? … Hmm … Never.” She smirked. “Sure, a few tried becoming friends once we got to the ‘in-a-relationship’ phase, but that always came after we’d had sex.” She frowned. “No one tried the slow-burn friendship building approach before asking for a date.” She squeezed me before looking up at me with a wondering look. “I like that phrase you used, ‘it’s 2032’.”
“Well,” she continued, “it’s 2032 and if you like a boy—or a girl—you ask them on a date before wasting any time being nice. If there is a mutual attraction, you see if they are any good in bed. I guess too many people got hurt being friend-zoned when there was no mutual physical attraction. Now, we all validate that physical attraction, and only then try to be friends.” Willow nuzzled her head against my shirt, cushioned by my fluffy chest hair.
I stroked her hair. “I know I come across as a bit of a loner, even though we’re all in a new place, and I thought we could be friends without hopping in the sack.” I grinned down at her. “It’s not like you weren’t sending out mixed signals, yourself. Don’t get mad, but I tend to notice things. You were throwing out subtle hints that turn away guys’ attention—with your off-brand shoes, overuse of make-up to conceal rather than highlight your stunning features, and the baggy clothes you wear to hide that amazing, curvy body … that feels really good to hold, by the way.” I sighed. “Honestly, if we had stayed friends and if things were not so dire—which I promise I will get to—I probably would have been fine letting that slow-burn attraction build up until we finally did something about it.”
“Nah,” she grinned, “I wasn’t going to let you draw this out much longer.”
“Actually,” I paused, “How do you keep those measurements, with all the time I noticed you spend at the gym.”
“Thanks, Mom, for your amazing genes! I am big-boned and curvy. If I work hard, I look fantastic, but this is about as slim as I get without vomiting my meals back up. No thank you, I am not that vain.” She paused. “What do you mean by me t
hrowing out these hints? What’re you implying?”
“Nothing, but you probably need to ask yourself that question,” I said. I let go of Willow and walked a few steps further, leaving her behind. She quickly caught up and this time grabbed my left hand to hold as we walked. “Losing a parent is hard. I could only imagine the pain your mother experienced when that boy killed your father. Did she ever move on?”
“Not once did I have to call a man my step-father, not even her part-time boyfriends who tried pretending to be one. She wanted to leave his role vacant. When I told her I wanted her to be happy, she said she was happy with me.” A look of concern flitted across her face. “I worry about her now that I am off to university.”
“Her choice to never take another man permanently into her life as you got older must have been a tough decision,” I said. “I don’t know what I would want my partner to do, if I died, and the one I loved had to make that choice. Would I want my wife to move on after I passed?” I mused. “Yes,” I decided, “I think I would. Especially if I left her alone with a little girl, particularly one so young; however, I do respect your Mom’s decision.”
A lady walking almost a dozen dogs towards us winced, seeing that we were on a collision course. Willow guided us off the sidewalk and into the grass. We let the collection of assorted dogs glide by with a minimal sniffing of our legs. The poor dog walker was clearly taking on too many clients. My thoughts drifted to how such problems today would become trivial and irrelevant tomorrow.
“You grew up without a father figure and have always been super close to your mom. You two are best friends, correct?” I asked and she nodded. “Maybe that is the cause of your ‘guys don’t bother me’ vibe. Then again, maybe you would be exactly the same if your father had always been around. Either way,” I said softly, “I could see that you are lonely and seeking the comfort of a partner like me.” I really did not like judging others and then telling them what I saw. People tended to react poorly to criticism. “As with all tough choices, our actions have consequences.”
