Grey

by Jon Armstrong

I wanted the opposite like I have never wanted anything and moved toward her, but she pushed me away. The world returned. I had completely forgotten, but we were in public—in the SunEcho auxiliary room. Fifty fake Noras were glaring at us, several were muttering to themselves, and all of their cheap perfumes filled the air with a saccharine and impatient musk. A shameful heat covered me. And as I let my arms fall to my sides, I could feel the ventilation system in my suit struggle to circulate air beneath the velvet jumpsuit.

  "Michael," she said, as she stroked the side of my face with one of her dove-grey gloved hands. "Another time." She looked down shyly.

  "Excuse me," said Joelene leaning in, "ten more seconds."

  "Already?" I asked, dismayed.

  Leaning in, Nora put her mouth beside my ear. I thought she was going to kiss me goodbye, but she said, "Someone is trying to keep us apart."

  Her words surprised me. "Who?"

  "Someone close."

  Her words caused a shiver to pass through me. "Could someone close be keeping us apart?" I asked my advisor.

  "We can't stay on the system," she said, glancing toward the camera in the corner of the room. "We must go."

  Nora said, "Be careful, Michael."

  I wanted to grasp her, maybe even pick her up and run. I wanted to take us somewhere where we would never be found.

  "It's time," said Joelene.

  Nora hugged me again. She said, "Light is falling."

  All the way to Kobehaba, where we were to meet Father for the wrap-party, I sat slumped in my Loop car seat. As much as I had been alive when with her, now I felt dead apart.

  "It was Father," I said, not looking up. "He's trying to keep us apart. He hates what I've become, and he hates her."

  "As yet," Joelene said, while monitoring her screen, "there's no evidence to support that theory." Her eyes met mine. "However, I do not mean that it can be completely ruled out either."

  "He did it!" I said, sure. "This is his revenge for when I quit dancing. He made it so I couldn't be with Nora. He did this!"

  Joelene didn't reply. A moment later, her eyes latched onto something on one of her screens. She turned it toward me and increased the volume. Intellectuals and Soup was on again.

  "Unequivocally," said Bow Tie, "it was Michael Rivers."

  They played a system video of Nora hugging me in my goggles and jumpsuit from the SunEcho only minutes before.

  "They found us?" I asked, surprised.

  "Impossible!" scoffed Iron Bra from behind her glass bowl. "I've just checked the history from the channel cameras in the elevators and the stairs of the MonoBeat. He wasn't there. He could not have gotten from SpecificMotor to the SunEcho in time. What we're seeing is some sort of theater."

  "I don't believe so," said Pink Hat thoughtfully, stirring a new bowl of soup. "It is Michael. And that's Nora. Just look at the sensuality of their kiss. It's palpable and pungent. The kind of kiss that connects the spheres, the spirits, and the glands. They are sharing a final moment together. I feel sorry for them and their companies. Certainly with that power, the union of RiverGroup and mkg would have been strong, authoritative, and commanding."

  "When she took your goggles off," said Joelene, as she snapped off the screen, "your disguise was compromised. I'm not surprised we were discovered, but I thought it wouldn't be for a day or two." She shook her head slowly. "We should have found a place off the system." Leaning back on her chair, she touched her fingertips together, and said, "This is trouble."

  A moment later, the car entered the garage of the building where the wrap-party was, and as we headed up in the turbofan-powered elevator, operated by a woman in a violet hoop skirt and bonnet, I asked, "Does Father watch that Soup show?"

  "Doubtful. But other channels will surely be speculating soon, so I suggest we make this as short a visit as possible."

  "I'm telling him that I know what he did," I said. "He let the freeboot shoot me because he hates me."

  "Michael," she said, quietly, "we don't have evidence to prove his involvement. I appreciate your ambition to confront him, but don't advise it now."

  When the bonnet woman pulled a huge iron lever and the doors opened, I had to squint and cover my ears. Screeching music played and patterns of light flashed in all directions. The floor vibrated an agitated violet. All over the place, screens played over-saturated snippets of Ültra epics. Screaming men . . . knives cutting through flesh . . . stone clubs bashing stuffed animals, fruit, and medical specimens.

  A hostess with heavy dark eye makeup, white lips, and a tube in her right nostril led us in. All the swirling colors, signs, and screens were giving me a headache. I closed my colored eye, but still the place blinked and vibrated like a hundred electrical storms.

  Partiers, in all manner of Ültra costume, waved and remarked as we passed.

  – She's hotrod!

  – Loved her furry tits!

  – Bereave her tail!

  – Billion times better!

  – Subtract her and abstract her. Turn her and burn her!

  Keeping my eyes straight ahead, I ignored them and their words and ridiculous lyrics. Meanwhile, I wondered if Joelene was right. If I did accuse him, all he would do was deny it and scream louder than I ever could.

  We came before a large, round table made out of a fresh redwood stump with the RiverGroup logo carved on top. Father sat with his back against the window that looked out onto the sparkling lights of the port city. His chocolate cake Afro was fluffier than ever. Around his neck he wore a green ruff, and his enormous jacket was covered with wet hunter-green paint. Stuffed in the breast pocket was what looked like a cut of raw pork and a black rubber glove.

  His girls sat on either side. A blonde wore blue foil. A redhead was covered with tar. One wore blinking sequins and nothing else. A brunette looked like the Frix bikini girl from the date. The last was decorated with yellow icing like a birthday cake. The word unhappy was written across her chest with blue.

  "There's our cunt Romeo!" said Father. As he stood and started around the table, he pointed left to right. "These are my girls: Conni, Penni, Hunni, and Benni." He stopped, pretended to suck a thumb, and spoke like a lisping baby, "All the wittle spaceships of cunt!" He guffawed so hard I feared he might cough up his spleen.

  As he finished coming around, I noticed that whatever his jacket touched got smeared with green paint. "Close-up!" he said to his film crew, then proceeded to throw his arms around me.

  "Get off!" I said, pushing him away. His jacket left stains on my hands, but not on my suit.

  "The stock is up!" he said, pumping his fist. "You were still dull, but she was great, right girls?" The women rang in with approvals.

  "If you don't mind," said Joelene, "we would like to retire. We're both very—"

  "What's the matter?" interrupted Father. "You just got here! Come on! Have a drink! We've got some very lard car-rot juice." He then put his face before mine and breathily sang, "Welcome to my fermented intestinal garden!"

  His breath was like compost. "You smell!" I said, leaning back.

  Father thought that hilarious. Whipping around he said, "Ken-baby! O keeper of digits . . . what were the magical and astounding ratings?"

  Ken, who sat beside the birthday cake girl, glanced at a small glowing screen and answered, "The magical and astounding ratings were twenty-one point seven, sir!"

  "Twenty-fucking-one-point-fucking-seven!" howled Father. "Is that a number!"

  "That's a number!" said Ken.

  "It's exceptional," said Xavid, who I hadn't noticed before. He was dressed in his usual black seal pelts, his huge, amber glasses, and a peak of white hair on top of his head.

  "Five times higher than any of your dates with Nora," added Ken.

  "There are mitigating factors," said Joelene. "The shooting caused a spike in—"

  "And look here," continued Father, ignoring her. He pointed to a man who sat on the near side of the table between a woman with some sort of chrome medical-
looking device that held her mouth open to expose her teeth and gums, and a nude man covered head to foot with what looked like olive oil and broken insect legs. "Let me introduce a real glazed ham: President, ceo, and Chief of Long Dickness at the distinguished company of Ribo-Kool, Chesterfield Kez." Father laughed and shook his shoulders like he was doing an odd, little dance. "He's Elle's uncle. Chester, this is my super famous son, Michael . . . in person and completely alive!"

  Chesterfield had a hard, bony face that looked like little more than a skin-covered skull. His nostrils large, his lips, blue. Over his bright beetle-green suit, he wore a pile of carved wooden necklaces just like the devoted businessman's LardLik reader he obviously was. He stood, extended a hand, and said, "Very large pleasure, indeed."

  Without shaking his hand, I said to Father, "I refuse to see Elle again."

  "Hold on!" bellowed Father, with a laugh. "Family meeting. Be right back!" Grabbing my arm, he dragged me across the aisle in front of a row of flashing and whirring gambling and sex machines. "Shut your hole!" he snarled. "We're cooking with lard. Chesterfield likes the numbers so much we're going ahead full force. We're going to marry you two at the product show. That'll blow those mkg semen suckers away!"

  It was a joke. It was insane. "No," I said, "I can't! I won't!"

  "You're going to!" he said, stretching the "o" in to and covering my face with his vile breath. "You're marrying the spank skank and that's it!"

  I wanted to smash his face. "You had me shot!" I fired back.

  "Did not!" said Father, sounding exactly like a five-year-old.

  "I know for sure."

  "You do not!" He laughed. "That would be massive stupid—even for me!"

  "You had the freeboot shoot me because you hate me. It was someone close."

  Father glared at me as though I were crazy. When Joelene came to my side, he asked her, "What lies are you telling him?"

  "I have not told him any lies, sir." She tried to smile, but I could see she was annoyed at me. "Understandably, given your histories, he assumes that you were somehow behind his misfortune."

  "I would never do that. It doesn't make any business sense!"

  "Sir," continued Joelene, "I'll take Michael home now. He needs rest. We're very excited about the ratings, but we—"

  "Ass missile!" he growled at her. "We have to keep moving!" Lowering his voice he said, "They're all against us! mkg is trying to take us down. Now, this date saved our holes tonight, but we've got to use this momentum for the product show." He kept having to unstick the armpits of his paint-covered jacket as he moved and gestured. "You know what we heard just ten minutes ago? mkg is planning to announce their new product the same time as our product show!" He jabbed a finger in my chest. "Don't accuse me or RiverGroup. It was them! That grey-sucking Nora and her shit-faced dad. They shot you! That makes sense."

  "There's no evidence of that, sir," said Joelene.

  "I'd find evidence if I had time to look for it. That whole thing is a joke. How did that fucking freeboot get out of there? And how did he shoot Michael in the hands and feet from where he was supposed to be? Answer me that?"

  "Again," said my advisor, obviously keeping her exasperation in check, "I'm not saying that I have all the answers, but the family commission has stated that a single freeboot did the shooting. And no evidence was found that mkg was involved."

  "Commission com-fiction!" he spat at her. "mkg is on the commission! Besides, all the families hate us because we have them by the balls. They've been waiting to fuck with us for years."

  "That's all conjecture," said Joelene.

  "No, it's butt-tastic truth!" he declared. "mkg planned it, did it, and now they think they're going to be number one!"

  "That's not true," I said.

  "It was them!" screamed Father. "They're a thick layer of butt snot on toast!" He shook his head solemnly. "They think they're going to win, but they're not! We're gonna screw them right back." He threw his arms out. "We're gonna have our big merger news, and an even bigger merger wedding."

  "I'm not marrying her!" I said. "I will only marry Nora."

  "Did I ask you a question?" he snarled. "No! So don't fucking talk. And besides, I banned her name. So don't even think it!"

  "Nora!" I said into his face.

  The tendons in his neck tightened. He stepped an inch before me. "Dare you to repeat it."

  Into the rancid fog of his breath, I said, "Nora." I stood my ground even as my eyes began to water from both the rotten carrot stink and my own fear.

  Red blotches appeared across his face and neck. His right shoulder rose and I was sure he was about to backhand me. At the last moment, though, he turned to his film crew and screamed. "Stop! I can't have my boy talking back like this! Turn it off, and get outta my face!" As the two men backed away, Father stepped before Joelene. "Doesn't he understand his duty to RiverGroup?" Before she answered, he asked me, "Why do you think I worked so hard to have a son?"

  I said, "I wish you hadn't."

  "Well, I did!" he scoffed. "And believe me, I'm real sorry now." He paused, and then his lower lip began to vibrate. Jamming his fist onto his lips he tried to control himself, but he was crying. "Fucker pies!" he said, his voice shaky.

  While the threat of violence before had been scary, this really frightened me. I hated his screaming and ranting, but the idea that he was going to break down was worse. I stared down at my shoes, ashamed.

  "I tried so hard," he said. "So hard. All I want is your help with the company. We're in real bad shit—the squishy kind of shit with whole corn kernels." He took a deep breath and swallowed as if to down his unhappiness. "I gave you life."

  "But now you're taking it away."

  "If there's no RiverGroup, there is no life. Don't you understand?"

  I shook my head. "Without her, I have nothing."

  He smacked his face with his hand, clenched his eyes, and said, "Get outta here! I can't take this. I can feel my hemorrhoids acting up!" Pointing at Joelene, he said, "Take the idiot home and teach him something!"

  "Sir, let me reassure you that—"

  "Excuse me!" interrupted Ken, who had run from the table. "Sorry, Mr. Rivers. Bad news!" After glancing at Joelene and me, he said, "Just heard it on the channels."

  "What now?" asked Father, as if he wanted to collapse.

  Gritting his teeth, his blue eyebrows practically knotted together over his nose, Ken said, "Please don't be mad at me."

  Father rolled his eyes. "You raccoon rectum! Just tell me!"

  Ken cupped his hands over Father's ear and whispered. As he did, Father's eyes got large. "No!" He stood back and glared at us. For a second, I thought he was going to laugh. "They didn't!" he said, shaking his head. "No. It's impossible! They couldn't have. I completely forbid it!"

  Ken shrugged as if he couldn't explain it and backed away a step.

  Father's face turned the color of salmon. The veins on his forehead throbbed. "Fucktastic bombastic!" he finally bellowed. "You saw her! You met our enemy!"

  "Sir," said Joelene, shielding me with an arm, "please! Listen to the facts. What happened was that we—"

  Father's right fist shot forward in a karate chop of a punch that slammed her breastbone. A loud and horrible puhh came from her as she fell backward, crashed into a vending machine, and crumpled onto the floor. "I should kill you!" screamed Father. "I should have them give you an ant enema. We're facing the biggest crisis of all time and you help him do this!"

  When he turned to me, I saw a ripple of fury like I had never seen before pass through his face. It was like a tectonic shift beneath his skin. "I'm killing someone today," he said to me, his voice raw.

  Crouching beside my advisor, but keeping an eye on him so he didn't try and bash me over the head, I asked her, "Are you all right?"

  As she huffed to try and get air back into her lungs, I think she said, "Yeah."

  "First we pull a super twenty-two rating!" said Father, tugging at his Afro like he wanted
to rip it from his skull. "We're hard lard and now another disaster!" Pointing at Ken, he said, "Get back to the table and tell Chesterfield something. Say whatever he wants to hear. Beg him. Cry for him! Anything!"

  "Anything!" said Ken. He ran back to the table.

  Joelene was breathing easier now, but her eyes shined with tears, her mouth was scrunched into a frown, and her teeth were tightly clenched. She was glaring at Father as if she were going to burn a hole through his chest.

  "You are officially fired from RiverGroup," said Father to her. "I'll get you kicked out of the families and sent to slubberland where they'll eat your guts alive."