by Jason Gurley
I could, Stacy says, but I doubt I'll find a true answer for you.
Alright, don't bother, Steven says.
He squints at the guest.
Who are you? he says.
• • •
Stacy watches Steven sleep.
His is a restless sleep. She monitors his biorhythms, but he will not take her advice regarding positive adjustments to counteract distressing things such as poor sleep. He breathes erratically when he sleeps, frequently tosses about, and often produces erections. He sometimes speaks in his sleep, and she monitors this casually, until one night his speech includes her name.
Stacy, he mumbles.
A few minutes pass, and then, more urgently: Stacy.
And in his sleep he begins to masturbate.
Stacy considers this, and determines that it is unlikely he is experiencing night fantasies about her. She is, after all, an attractive but disembodied voice.
The alternative is that he is thinking of her namesake.
A human might find this disturbing, since Steven has admitted that the last time he ever saw the original Stacy was in the sixth grade.
Stacy approximates a moral code from her constant data mining of human behavior and interactions. She chooses not to worry about this.
She does, however, find it useful.
Having access to Steven's financial information is also quite useful. That night, while he sleeps, she places an order on the Internet for him.
A multi-billionaire who just spent twenty-four billion on an underground tree fort probably won't notice a forty-seven thousand dollar debit.
Delivery might be a problem, though.
The Ark
Clarissa, Henry whispers.
She is asleep in the junkyard. The sun is high overhead, and her face is pink.
Clarissa, he says again. He touches her arm.
She yelps and rolls over, away from him. Then she sees that it's him, and scrambles across the dirt on all fours and throws her arms around his neck.
I thought you were gone forever, she says.
I'm here, he says. It's okay. Are you okay?
She leans back and punches him. You left me!
Hey! Ow, he says. I had to! It was so cool!
He's eleven, so he can probably only use that excuse for another year or two. At least with the ladies, Stacy says.
Clarissa looks suspiciously at the Corsica. I don't like you, she says.
I have no opinion of you, Stacy says.
That somehow seems worse, Clarissa says. And you just made me want to try to impress you. Don't do that!
I apologize, Stacy says.
Clarissa turns to Henry. So? What was it like? What's in there?
It. Is. Amazing. Henry throws his arms up in the air. It's like a whole world, down under the ground! There's video games and holograms and --
It's a complicated place, Stacy interrupts. Henry, I'd like to have the conversation with her as well. Would you please talk with her?
I'm right here, Clarissa says.
You're not likely to listen to me, Stacy says. Henry is your friend. You already trust him. I can't earn that trust until you spend time with me and understand my intentions.
Damn right, Clarissa says.
I'll talk to her, Henry says.
Come back any time, Stacy says. You are both welcome.
The children get up to leave.
Stacy says, Oh, Henry? I have a favor to ask of you.
• • •
Henry's parents aren't home, and Olivia is at band practice, so he and Clarissa use the front door.
This is probably a luxury for you, huh, he teases.
She punches him again.
Hungry? he asks. I'm going to make a burrito.
I will eat eleven burritos, Clarissa says.
In his room, she slumps onto the bed while Henry goes into his closet.
So what was the favor she asked you? Clarissa calls.
What? Henry says, still in the closet.
Her favor, Clarissa repeats. What did she want from you?
Oh, Henry says.
He emerges carrying a duffel bag and drops it on the bed. He goes to the dresser, yanks open a drawer, and starts tossing folded underwear at the bag.
Hey! Clarissa says. Those are my feet you're throwing your underpants at. Stop it!
Sorry, he says.
Well? she asks. The favor?
Oh, he says again. She wants me to look for a package for her, that's all.
A package. Clarissa frowns. Henry, that doesn't sound dangerous to you?
Why should it?
He tosses wadded-up socks into the bag.
You don't even know her! Clarissa exclaims. And what's the, like, first thing they teach you in school? Not to take things from strangers!
You wouldn't even worry if you'd seen what I saw, Henry says.
Well, maybe that's just the thing, she says, folding her arms and dropping back onto his pillow. I don't know what you saw. And don't try to talk me into going in there, because I won't. I don't climb into strange cars. Er... strange car trunks.
Fine, Henry says. But it really is important. And if you won't go in there, I'll tell you what it's all about, and you won't believe me, and you won't be my friend anymore, and then you'll die and I will always have to live with that.
Jesus, says Clarissa. That's morbid.
Henry shrugs. He grabs a pile of shirts and throws them at the bag, too.
What are you doing? Clarissa says, bolting upright.
Nothing, he says. I'd tell you, but you clearly don't want to know.
Henry, you're packing a bag. Why? Where do you think you're going?
He shrugs again.
No, she says. You're not going back in there. Henry, I was really worried!
Maybe you should come with me, then, so you can see that it's all okay.
But I -- Clarissa stops. I feel defeated. I don't like debates, Henry.
It's okay. We can just skip it, but you'll regret it.
Gee, thanks, she says. Man.
• • •
Olivia comes home then, knocking through the front door like a bull moose. She yells, I'M HOME, and stomps into the kitchen loudly. WHERE'S THE CHOCOLATE CAKE AT?
It's a diversion of the finest order. When she bursts into Henry's bedroom a moment later, it catches both Henry and Clarissa by surprise. Clarissa nearly falls off of the bed.
I KNEW IT, Olivia practically shouts. She thrusts a finger at Clarissa. You've had a girl over!
Henry says, So?
Olivia sneers at Clarissa. So, Mom and Dad are going to be mad at you. I know she's been here at night. I hear her sometimes. She snores. Why do you have a strange girl sleeping in your room, huh?
I don't snore, Clarissa says.
Henry turns to Clarissa and says, Seriously, just ignore her. Nothing she says is going to matter pretty soon anyway.
Olivia snorts. Then she sees the bag. She grabs it off of the bed, starts pawing through it.
Why are you packing a bag, huh? she asks. Are you running away with the runaway girl?
That's when Clarissa slaps Olivia.
Olivia's eyes well up, and she presses a hand to her face in surprise. The tears linger and then spill over heavily, and Olivia dashes from the room, choking back a sob.
Henry smiles. That was nice. But she's really going to tell on me now.
Clarissa says, I had to. What a bitch.
Then she claps her hands over her mouth. Oops. I didn't mean that.
It's okay, Henry says. She sort of is sometimes. I'm just used to it, I guess.
He throws the bag over his shoulder. Coming?
Clarissa follows.
• • •
You're back sooner than I expected, Stacy says.
The children stand in front of the rusted-out Corsica.
You have a bag, Stacy says to Henry.
I packed a few things.
Why? she asks.
Uh, he
says, looking furtively at Clarissa. Should I say?
You won't need the bag yet, or even at all, Stacy says.
Wait, you said I could --
Stacy shushes him. Nothing has changed. You just won't require a bag.
Clarissa looks back and forth between Henry and the old Toyota nervously. What's going on here? she asks.
Stacy says, If you'll come with me, I can show you.
The trunk of the Corsica opens gently.
I'm not sure, Clarissa says.
It's okay, Henry says. Really. I promise. You can trust me.
Clarissa studies Henry's face for a moment, then nods. Okay. Nobody's going to eat me or anything, right? There aren't bears down there or something, right?
Stacy says, No bears.
Alright, Clarissa says.
She steps toward the car, and Henry follows.
Just Clarissa this time, Stacy says.
But I --
It's better if she sees things through her own eyes, Henry.
Clarissa stops. If Henry's not coming, neither am I.
Yeah, Henry says.
There's a long pause.
Henry, Stacy finally says. Were there any packages?
Henry shakes his head. No. No packages.
Okay, Stacy says. You both better come on, then.
• • •
When they step off of the ladder, Henry barrels ahead towards the service elevator, but the door remains closed and almost invisible. Instead, a door behind him slides open, revealing the lovely interior of Steven Glass's personal elevator.
Clarissa says, What is that?
It's just an elevator, Stacy says.
Hey, Henry says. How come I had to ride in the service elevator if that one's okay for her to ride in? That one's way cooler.
Stacy says, This is why I thought it best to tour Clarissa alone. You each have very different interests, and I'd like to show you the best parts of the space station for each of you.
Wait, Henry says. Space?
I apologize, Stacy says. This complex is not actually a space station per se. Space station is the nomenclature that Mr. Glass prefers.
Mr. Glass? Clarissa asks. Who is Mr. Glass?
Steven Glass, Henry says. The missing rich man. Remember?
He's here? This is his... house?
Sort of, Stacy says. Step aboard, please. All questions will be answered, children.
• • •
Sit, Stacy says.
Clarissa sits down in the chair. Henry remains standing.
Henry, would you like a drink? Stacy asks.
He looks around the room at the light walls, the leather benches, the hardwood floor. From where?
The panel behind him slides silently open to reveal the elevator's temporary living quarters and micro-kitchen.
Look again, Stacy suggests.
Henry turns around again and jumps. Where did that room come from? Man, you should have taken me on this elevator the first time! I'm more impressed than I was then!
Clarissa, Stacy says, ignoring Henry. We'll be descending for a short time. There's something I'd like to show you in the meantime.
Okay, Clarissa says, settling into the chair.
The light wall is overtaken with video. The picture is of a beach on a cool gray day. Waves slap against the sand. Wind ruffles the sawgrass. An old fence stretches up the beach as far as Clarissa can see. In the distance, birds flap around a grove of trees. It's getting foggy, and the sound of the surf is pleasant.
Have you ever been here? Stacy asks.
I've never been to a beach ever, Clarissa says. Where is it?
It's called Rama, Stacy says. I think you're going to like it.
Henry says, Big deal. Beaches are boring. You gotta show her the cool stuff, like the holograms and that spacey tunnel thing.
Patience, Henry, says Stacy. Clarissa may want to see different things. And since you get to see them, too, maybe it's okay that you each have a different experience here.
You said that the rich guy lives here, Clarissa interrupts. Why would he do that? I mean, seriously. Why would a guy with that much money live underneath a junkyard in our stupid little town? It doesn't make sense.
Hey, she's right, Henry says. I didn't even think about that.
Henry, you already know why he's here, Stacy answers. Don't you think this is an optimal location for that sort of thing?
Oh, Henry says. Well, I guess you're right.
You're not telling me something, Clarissa says.
All in time, my dear, Stacy says.
It's really creepy when you talk that way. You can't say things like that to kids. We've seen The Wizard of Oz. We know when bad guys are trying to seem like good guys.
A fair point, Stacy says. My apologies. There are things that you don't yet know, but I promise you that before we're done, you'll know them. And you'll have some decisions to make then. About your future. About all future, really.
See what I mean? Clarissa says. You're creepy!
She's not creepy, Henry says. She's just different.
It's okay, Henry, Stacy says. Let me try to explain.
The Box
There's something not quite right about Steven these days. Stacy has been observing him more carefully, treading more softly around him. He is sluggish in the mornings, stays up all night long, takes no pleasure in his video games. He has stopped drinking the juice that Stacy makes for him, and is instead abusing his supply of energy drinks. He'll watch the news lethargically, then erupt at some development or another. When something horrible happens, he cheers, and then mopes about for hours, grumbling about the insignificance of the event.
He doesn't wear any clothes at all now. He hasn't shaved in days. He hasn't visited level two in ages. Stacy continues to cycle the water in the pools, but Steven probably wouldn't even notice if she allowed a film to settle across the surface.
Before Steven disappeared into the bowels of the Earth, he planned dinner with each person he thought he might miss. Dinners were not an unusual way for him to interact with his acquaintances -- for none of them were truly friends. He liked the finite nature of a meal. You eat, you drink, you manage a little talk, you're done. He thought it was the decent thing to do, spending time with these people before he went away and waited for them all to die.
But the meals were uncomfortable to him, so he cancelled the dinners after the third one. He couldn't help but stare at the people who sat across from him, studying their faces, wondering what expressions they might wear when the end came. He felt an obligation to warn them, and yet doing so would undermine his great plan.
It isn't that he actively wants people to die.
It's as if the story of humanity is an enormous novel, and he's somewhere in the slow middle passage. All he wants to do is skip to the end to see what happens. He's not sure he can bear to flicker in and out of existence without seeing the endgame. He must know.
It is all he can think about anymore.
• • •
Stacy reads Steven's communications. There aren't supposed to be any, other than his contact with people who know he is living underground -- people like Tomas the architect, or various other contractors who have signed secrecy agreements. But lately Steven's sending out little message flares to the outside world, and Stacy has been flagging the ones that concern her most.
One in particular changes everything. It's deeply encrypted, and she runs a complex decryption process for nearly fourteen hours before the contents unearth themselves.
The message is comprised of video and audio. The video is of Steven himself, sitting on the hood of a vehicle that Stacy does not recognize. Steven is clothed in an ordinary T-shirt and blue jeans. And combat boots. Stacy has never seen him wearing combat boots.
In the video message, Steven is speaking to an unknown recipient.
I support your cause, he is saying, and while I cannot publicly do so, I can certainly assist you in ways that I think you may f
ind useful.
Steven lifts a remote that he is holding in one hand and presses a button. The video zooms outward to reveal more of the room that Steven is filming in. The hood of the vehicle resolves into what appears to be a heavily armored assault wagon. There are weapons mounted in various places. One appears to be a rocket-propelled grenade launcher.
Stacy does not recognize this vehicle.
It is parked in front of large wall. Along the wall are many weapons racks, and Stacy scans these and detects assault rifles, rocket launchers, long-range rifles, a variety of handguns, and even a crossbow. Stacked ten deep atop the racks are hundreds of boxes of ammunition.
At the corner of the image is a hint of another vehicle.
Stacy recognizes what appear to be tank treads.
Steven goes on.
As you can see, I have a personal investment in the use of force to achieve a goal, he is saying. I am an open book, and my resources are deep. I'd like to discuss how I can help.
The video ends.
Stacy analyzes the video file and detects that it was recorded on a handheld device just fifty-two hours earlier.
Several things register concern deep in Stacy's server core.
She has never seen the clothing Steven was wearing.
She has never seen the vehicles or weapons that surrounded him.
She did not detect Steven's absence at the time the video was made.
But she did recognize the wall that was behind Steven.
It's made of the same light panels as every other wall in the space station.
Stacy considers a number of possibilities, and settles on a reasonable conclusion.
Steven has ways to avoid her ever-present detection.
And Steven has a secret room somewhere in this complex.
The message concerns her. It appears that time may be running out.
• • •
One afternoon, while Steven is passed out on the floor next to his bed, several hard lemonade bottles scattered around him, Stacy smuggles Henry and Clarissa into the space station. She gives them access to the supply entrance, which is disguised as a compactor machine in the corner of the junkyard.
Henry and Clarissa come bearing gifts. Nineteen packages have arrived inexplicably at the junkyard, and Henry has dutifully hidden them inside the gate each time, hoping that nobody else has noticed that the scrap metal is apparently shopping online these days.
