by JT Lawrence
“You wanted Doomsday, you motherfuckers. Here it comes.”
Do demigods sweat? Do their stomachs rumble with trepidation? Why is he so damned nervous? Sure, the Resurrectors are reckless, cold-blooded killers, which would give anyone pause to reflect before pissing them off in such a cosmic way. But his methods are untraceable. He’s tested and re-tested his entry points, tweaked the shit out of them. If the technophiliac Thai mafia can’t locate him, how would the Resurrectors do it? They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.
He gets ready to click again, this time with more confidence. His finger hardly has time to hover before his Patch rings and shoots him out of his chair.
“Kaiser Soze,” he says. His eyeborg shows him a picture of Keke.
“What’s wrong with you?” she demands.
“What do you mean? Nothing.”
He dusts biscuit crumbs off his chin.
“You’re whiter than an ill Englishman.”
“Am I?”
“You’ve got a sheen.”
“A what?”
“A sheen, all over your face. Perspiration. Are you doing something bad?”
“Nope.” Marko wipes away the sweat. “No. Not bad. Well. A little bit bad.”
Keke narrows her eyes at him. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
“You’re calling about the toddler thing?” Marko asks. “I’ve got something, I think.”
Keke’s face is alight. “Why didn’t you call me, you bastard?”
He loves it when she calls him that.
“I’ve been hectic on a job. A big job.”
“I knew you were up to something. What is it?” she asks.
“I’ll fill you in later.”
Suspense always makes Keke horny. God, he loves the woman. He’s never actually told her. The concept of love is such a cliché, right? They’ve been together for almost four years now, surely she knows? He’s exhilarated. Should he say something now?
“Tell me,” she says.
His mind goes blank. How the –
“Wh-what?” he stutters.
“Tell me what you found out! Quickly, I need to go. I’m late.”
“Okay. Right. So, the Lundy case.”
“You found something on him?”
“No. There’s nothing, but – ”
“We went to see Helena Nash, as you suggested. She seems clean too. I mean, she’s an alcoholic, and she’s an asshole, but apart from that, I’m not sure why she’s doing time. Both deaths look like accidents to me. What am I missing?”
“This is going to sound extremely paranoid, right?” says Marko.
“I expect nothing less.”
Marko swivels around and taps some tabs in his holosphere. “Hang on. There’s more stuff coming in.” The leaves start multiplying. “Holy Hedy Lemarr.”
“What?”
Those kids weren’t ordinary toddlers.
“This is,” he says, “this is … bad.”
“Fuck’s sake, Marko, tell me what’s going on!”
“You need to call Kate right now.”
Chapter 28
Ruff-ruff RoboPup
They arrive at the RoboPup show twenty minutes late. Luckily it seems that the organisers, knowing that the majority of the audience will be small children and their perennially stressed parents, built in some warm-up acts to buffer the disappointment of late-comers. They’re at Soccer City, the stadium built to host the Johannesburg games in the 2010 World Cup. It’s only sixteen years old but the building is a scarred husk of what it used to be. It reminds Kate of the pictures of the crumbling arenas in Italy, but dirtier, and with more graffiti. Still, there’s enough space for the five thousand ticket holders and everyone looks cheerful enough. She needs to shake the dark clouds out of her head and try to enjoy the experience.
Kate’s never been good with crowds. All the smells and sounds assail her synaesthesia until she feels that the horde is climbing on top of her and she can’t breathe anymore. She knew it would be like this, so she’s come prepared: she glugs down a TranX with her complimentary bottle of Bilchen water. It’ll take the edge off. She says a little nonsense-prayer to the sky in Seth’s direction. He has his faults, but he sure knows how to design good pharma. Before they’re let into the main area, the kids are given a temporary wrist tattoo: a Z-code containing all their information, in case they’re in an accident or they get lost.
A blue man on stilts walks past them, throwing pink popcorn about like confetti. Kite-drones the colours of candy floss hover around them like jellyfish. Kate hears the familiar theme music, and electronic barking, in the distance. They get stuck behind a family testing out their new Sunbrella. They smile and make funny faces as the SPF umbrella takes selfies of them.
Mally pulls on Kate’s hand.
“It’s starting!” he says, eyes as wide as fifty-rand coins. They pick up their pace towards the stage. Silver is skipping and her white-blonde hair glints in the sunlight. Kate feels bad, seeing how excited they are. She should really take them out more. It’s not fair on them to keep them away from events like this just because she has issues. A deep breath of the afternoon-warmed air and her shoulders relax. There’s a spilling of wellness inside her chest and Sebongile catches her eye and smiles at her. Kate smiles back. Yes, she thinks, the shrink was right, she’ll definitely start taking the twins out more.
Kate buys the twins GlitterCola and a packet of Crispheres each. Sebongile purses her lips at the junk, averts her eyes as she drinks her water. SurroSis nannies – always beyond reproach. She shakes her head at the persistent hat hawker, but then changes her mind and buys blue dog-eared and pink cat-eared hats for Mally and Silver respectively.
There’s more robotic barking and some miaowing now too. The tix on Kate’s Helix directs her to their standing space. Hundreds of small children are jumping up and down. Some are dressed as RoboPup, some as KittyBot. She could have brought the kids dressed in their pyjamas, after all. The young audience starts shouting at the empty stage: Where are you, RoboPup? Come out, RoboPup! Woof-woof, we’re waiting for you!
Some of the parents join in, and Kate looks around and starts to feel uncomfortable again. There is too much same-ness going on. Too many kids dressed the same, too many adults with the same blank faces. Despite the tranquilliser dissolving in her stomach, her anxiety starts to climb.
“Stay close, kids,” she says.
“Keep an eye on Silver,” says Bongi to Mally. She’s always telling Mally he needs to protect his sister. He nods, and they both smile at the nanny; excitement shines their eyes.
She does a quick head-count, one-two, then breathes in and out, slowly, to keep her nerves under control. Next time she’ll bring more pills. Next time she’ll choose a less popular event, and it won’t be Ruff-ruff RoboPup. It’s not that she doesn’t like the character, or the show, she just disagrees with its politics. RoboPup is the first kids’ homescreen show that’s completely written and produced by artificial intelligence. The machines were taught the principles of a good story and given thousands of examples, then instructed to replicate it. After a few bad shows that needed course-correcting, they came up with RoboPup. Most kids love it; Mally is obsessed with it. Eighteen months in and it’s the most profitable show in the history of animated television. No writers, actors or artists needed: the AI just churns episodes out into the Stream and it’s gobbled up by mesmerised kids the world over. Each episode has a moral, of course: Be Kind; Sharing is Caring; Respect Your Parent/s; Take Care of the Earth; Save Water. It’s a show without boundaries: the same intelligence that creates the programme also translates it into a hundred different languages. At first she boycotted the series, but when she saw how much the twins loved the characters her need to please them outweighed her moral position.
The crowd starts to get antsy. Kate and Sebongile are pushed from behind. Kate holds Mally’s hand more firmly and makes sure Silver is holding the nanny’s. Breathe. Breathe. Perfume and holiday-scented sun
block and some sweet, sticky smell. Kids yelling, Mally jumping up and down and pulling on her arm. A nearby drone hot air balloon floating over the crowd explodes with a loud bang and showers the cheering audience with glitter-strips and Stevia Pops. It sends Kate’s pulse racing.
“Mom, can I have some of that?” Silver is looking at her neighbour’s freshly bought ice shavings.
“No,” says Kate. “You’ve already had something and the show’s about to start.”
“Please, Mom? Please?” She has the same sweet tooth as her mother. “I want some. I’ve never had some before.”
Kate looks around her. It will take forever to get out of this crowd now and get back here.
“I’ll take her,” says Sebongile. “I don’t mind.”
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“Please, Mom.”
She remembers her earlier commitment to have more fun and let the kids try new things. It’s good for their development. She needs to relax, to stop being so over-protective, to let the kids be kids.
“Let me take her,” says the nanny, hoisting Silver up on her generous hip. “No problem.”
Okay. Why not? Kate nods for them to go. She bumps Sebongile’s bank for two servings so that Mally can have some too. The crowd swallows the two of them up. Mally lets go of her hand.
“Don’t let go,” she says, “I don’t want to lose you.”
“Your hand’s sweaty,” he says, rubbing his palm on his shirt. “I don’t want to hold it.”
Kate’s eyes find the sky. Where are those toddler leashes when you need them? She grasps his shoulder, instead.
Finally, the show starts. Kate looks over her shoulder for Sebongile but she can’t spot her. White-and-blue vapour surges from the smoke machines and overflows onto the audience. Kate’s Patch rings with an incoming call. She checks her Helix: it’s Keke. She silences the call. No way she’ll be able to hear anything above this throng of chattering kids.
A show-branded Volanter approaches, slicing up the blue horizon. It hovers over the stage then lowers a giant pimped-out dog kennel. There’s more smoke, and more glitter, and RoboPup jumps out: a twenty-foot tall robot puppy hologram that can smile and stand on his hind legs. The small children scream serrated shapes (Shrill Stab).
“Ruff-ruff everybody!” he barks.
The kids all shout back: Ruff-ruff RoboPup!
“Thanks so much for coming today,” he says. “It’s really nice to see you!”
Fuck, the inanity. How is she going to get through an hour of this?
Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop go the lights. The theme music starts in earnest and everyone sings along. The same lyrics that are a constant earworm to thousands of people all over the world. Kate finds the words slipping into her head even though she resists them. Her Patch rings. It’s Keke, again. Kate looks backwards to try to spot Bongi. All she sees are a sea of hypnotised faces singing the stupid song. Her earlier feeling of wellbeing curdles into dread. 14:53. They should have been back by now.
Chapter 29
Sticky Cheek
It’s 14:58 when the sirens sound so loudly that Kate can’t see what’s in front of her. She lets go of Mally’s shoulder and shields her ears. Sharp objects embed themselves in her vision like ninja stars. The crowd around them are shocked into silence. Is this part of the show? But the RoboPup hologram evaporates into pixels and the smoke machines are turned off.
“The fuck?” says the man standing next to her with his toddler on his shoulders. His partner smacks his arm for swearing in front of their spawn. Another man shrugs. The woman in front of her stands on her tip-toes, trying to understand what is going on. The siren continues to saw through Kate’s brain.
“What’s happening, Mom? Mom? Mom?” says Mally, but she can’t see him through the noise. She grabs his hand.
“It’s a bomb!” shouts someone, stunning the crowd. “Bomb!” “Bomb!” people start yelling. Yelling and running, but everyone’s packed so tightly it’s difficult to move anywhere in a hurry. “Get out!” screams a woman in Kate’s face. “They’re going to blow this place up!”
A new hologram flickers on, above the stage. It’s the Soccer City Stadium mascot, a giant yellow vuvuzela with eyes like rolling footballs and a Zulu accent.
“Please, remain calm,” he says. “Exit in an orderly manner. Exit as quickly as you can. Do not panic.”
Kate looks for Silver. Where the hell are they? Will they exit from where they are, or come here to find her, first? People are jostling her, holding onto their kids as if they are licenses to shove other people out the way.
“Please, remain calm,” says the vuvuzela. Kate and Mally are getting swept up in the tide of panic. They’ve already been displaced twenty feet. She tries to phone Bongi but there are too many signals and the call won’t start. How will she find them? Coconut sunblock, agave flatdrinks, soydogs. Does she try to fight her way back to her original position, or go with the flow? It looks like she doesn’t have a choice. They lose another metre, then another. Kate’s heart is hammering away, but she wills herself to stay calm for the sake of the kids. A glitter-cannon misfires, making the crowd scream. Some people tuck and roll, others double their efforts to push out of the park. The grass beneath them is littered with dropped snax and forgotten cardigans. They have to get out of here.
“Mom!”
There are hundreds of children around them, all confused and crying, but Kate recognises Silver’s voice instantly.
“Mom!”
“Silver!” she shouts, catching sight of her. Silver is perched on Sebongile’s hip, and they all wave madly at each other. The siren is still distorting Kate’s vision but she can see her daughter and the relief paints her heart green. Sebongile and Kate fight their way through the crowd, towards each other. Finally they touch. Kate wants to hug Silver but when she leans forward to take her from the nanny’s embrace, Silver’s face turns white; etched with shock.
“Where’s Mally?”
Kate’s confused. What does she mean? Mally’s right here, holding her hand. Kate looks down as if to show her, and it’s like she’s just touched a live electric wire. She whips her hand away from the strange boy who’s standing there. Mally’s height, Mally’s RoboPup hat, what felt like Mally’s soft warm hand, but not Mally. Just then the boy realises he’s lost. He opens his mouth in a silent cry, his face flushes with fear, and he just stands there, frozen to the spot, bright-blood skin and streaming snot: a monument to lost children.
“Oh my God,” says Kate. “Oh my God.” When did she lose him? How far could he have gone? She tears her eyes off the little boy and scans the crowd around her. He’s under this sea of people. All the little boys look the same from this angle – all metallic blue dog ears. How will she ever find him? She starts shouting his name over and over again. Sebongile joins in. Kate expects Silver to start bawling but she remains eerily calm.
“Don’t panic!” Kate says to the nanny, but more to herself. Her heart has gone back to knocking around so hard she feels it may eject itself right out of her chest. Kate grabs Silver, needs to feel her small limbs around her. Sebongile tries to comfort the strange boy but he won’t have it, so instead, she tries to shield him from the rush of people so he doesn’t get trampled.
Kate has the irrational urge to whistle, so that she can find Mally via the FindMe app on his watch, but of course it would never work in this noise.
There’s a buzzing sound; Kate shakes her head to get rid of it. Every second that passes could mean he’s getting further away. She shouts his name again. The buzzing gets louder. In the distance she sees where it’s coming from: a massive cloud of brown and green is swarming towards them. The bomb squad has arrived and has released the Pavlocs. The bomb-sniffing locusts move in the air like a flock of swallows. Sebongile screams when she sees them.
“Don’t worry,” Kate says. “They’re here to help us.”
The locusts blind the blue of the sky, making it feel like sudden even
ing. The LEDs on their thoraxes are go-robot green, which bodes well. Once their hijacked antennae sense anything incendiary the electrode in their brains will register the electrical activity and the light will flick to red.
Kate tries to ignore the buzzing and flitting. Jettisoned wings rain over them like floating ash. In the artificial dusk it’ll be even more difficult to spot Mally. She tries to shout for him again but her voice is hoarse.
“Mally is in danger,” says Silver, as calm as Kate has ever seen her.
“What?” croaks Kate. “What did you say?”
Silver’s eyes are filled with light, despite the darkness that surrounds them. “We need to find him, now.”
“What do you mean?” she shouts. “What are you talking about?”
People are still pushing past but the crowd is thinning now: Kate and Sebongile are no longer at risk of being swept away. Kate coughs into her arm, clears her throat, trying to get her voice back, but it just makes it worse. She casts around for Mally. He’s here somewhere! The vuvuzela mascot is repeating his mantra, advising everyone to be calm and move as quickly as possible to the emergency exits. “For ease of exit,” he says, football eyes rolling, “the Z-code barrier has been temporarily disabled.”
No!
She wants to scream. The Z-code tattoo the kids get on their way in is linked to her Patch which means they can’t leave the ground with anyone but the guardian they came in with. It’s the one thing that has been stopping Kate from full-blown panic. Now anyone can snatch him.
The Pavlocs continue their swarming, sniffing, looking for a bomb. Their built-in sensors are more sensitive than anything a human can manufacture. They’ve been trained to seek explosives to receive their reward, and they are kept hungry.
“He’s going out of the stadium,” says Silver. “Mally’s leaving.”
“Where?” says Kate, “Can you see him?”
