by J. Judkins
“It isn’t the same. You started out independent. This Angel woman achieved her independence.”
“Right.” Jab. Jab. Jab. “Can’t compete with an angel.”
“Does that mean you’ll help?”
“I really don’t see why I should. That’s not why I’m here. I’m not getting paid for this.”
Naomi tried another tactic. “That woman took something from me. I’m going to need it back.”
This seemed to spark Melanie’s interest. “What sort of something?”
“An item.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” she said dryly.
“A unique and valuable item.”
“Ah. That’s different.”
Naomi regretted the deception, but felt it necessary. In truth, she had no interest in recovering the modulator at all. Certainly not right away. Each day it remained out of reach meant one more day to locate and interrogate Angel, and hopefully uncover her secret for independence. The group could still finish their work without it, but not without adding weeks or months to their schedule.
In addition, going through the motions would serve as a crude form of life insurance. Naomi wasn’t so brave as to gamble her life on Angel’s vague success story. If the worst should happen and Angel couldn’t give her the answers she sought, Naomi would need convincing evidence she’d been determined to recover the device since the beginning. It would help justify her unorthodox actions.
And if Angel had the answers, the rest of it wouldn’t matter. She would be free.
The elevator arrived. After a brief stay, it departed once more.
“Is this item something important?” Melanie prompted.
Naomi looked to the ceiling, her best tactic for avoiding unwanted questions. “I’d rather not go into specifics.”
“If I’m going to help find this thing, you’ll need to tell me what it is.”
Naomi was about to deny her again, but then she realized how Melanie’s presence could turn the situation to her advantage.
If she were caught, her actions would be scrutinized down to the last detail. That much was undeniable. But if she concealed the true nature of the device from Melanie, Naomi could pretend to look for the modulator while in fact looking for Angel, utilizing all the resources available to her.
In addition, since inefficiency was the goal, having a human along would allow Naomi to be as inefficient as she wanted. The act of hurrying would give Melanie the impression the device was somehow important, a fact Central Authority would absolutely hate for outsiders to know.
“Any idea why she stole it?” Melanie asked.
“It doesn’t matter. They’ll never be able to figure out how to use it effectively.”
“What kind of a tool is it?”
Unnerved at the accuracy of Melanie’s guess, Naomi didn’t answer.
“Why not let Angel have it, and replace it with a different one?”
“The item is irreplaceable,” Naomi said. “I need that one back.”
“You still haven’t told me what it is.”
She’s not giving up, is she? “It’s old, but serves a purpose. Unique, but not valuable.”
“That explanation doesn’t explain anything.”
“That explanation wasn’t meant to explain anything. Will you help me?”
“Yes. I’ll help you.”
“Thank you.”
Naomi caught Melanie’s hand before it could reach out to summon the elevator a final time. “You understand, don’t you? This is important to me.”
Melanie averted her eyes. “I get it.”
“Why don’t we arrange a time to discuss our strategy? I seem to recall you’d mentioned something about food after work.” Naomi glanced over at the clock. “Are you interested in lunch?”
“That sounds nice,” Melanie said with a smile.
“Perfect.” Naomi clapped her hands once. “I’ll meet you after you’ve finished eating.”
Melanie’s expression darkened, which suggested she was irritated at something. “You know what? Forget lunch. I’m going home.”
The elevator doors opened, and Melanie stepped inside. “You’ve got my number. I’ll help track down this lady friend of yours, if you want. But as for the rest of it? Give me a call when you’re actually serious.”
The doors closed behind her, leaving Naomi to wonder what she’d been talking about.
It really was a shame Melanie wasn’t at all interested in her.
Chapter Eighteen
Naomi strode through the brightly lit corridor. It always surprised her how much her perceptions changed over time. When she’d first gone planet-side, the environment had seemed unnaturally dim, as if the world were covered in a fine layer of ash. Now, the opposite held true. The ship’s lighting seemed uncomfortably bright.
The door slid open as she approached, accompanied by a trace smell of old machine oil. Naomi stepped inside and took a moment to survey her surroundings. She stood on a multilevel platform overlooking the main engineering deck. Similar to most, their ship was largely automated. Occasional maintenance drones scurried about, but that was the extent of the activity.
Floyd was the local distribution manager in charge of all the advanced technology that couldn’t be replicated. He’d been waiting for her, no doubt alerted by Naomi’s computer request to track him down. Naomi knew him only by reputation. Similar to most, his happiness and well-being were directly tied to his bureaucratically ordained purpose in life. He rarely left the confines of his workstation.
He carried a clipboard, which Naomi thought new and uniquely human. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized just how deeply her people were integrating with human society.
“I need one hand blaster, one tangler, and two sentry units,” Naomi said.
“One hand blaster. One tangler. Two sentries,” Floyd repeated, jotting the information down. “Got it. Sign here.”
“No, I’ve changed my mind. Four. I need four sentries,” Naomi corrected herself.
Floyd gave her a sidelong look. “Four?”
“Six.”
“Four is all we’ve got. If you want more, we’ll need to pull them in from off-site.”
“Four is acceptable. And the weapons.”
“Sign here. I’m assuming you have Brandon’s approval for all this?”
Naomi drew back. “Why wouldn’t I have his approval? The fact that I’m here implies approval.”
“Got it. So long as Brandon approves, I don’t care. Sign here.”
Naomi squinted her eyes to convey her suspicion. So long as Brandon approves? What did he mean by that?
Floyd took a step forward to close the distance between them. Naomi batted the outstretched clipboard away. “Your tone suggests something nefarious happened to Brandon. That assertion couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Got it the first time.” Floyd straightened the paperwork on the clipboard and offered it to her once more. “Sign here.”
Naomi ignored the clipboard. “And in any event, he’s indisposed.”
Floyd stared at the wall as if it were fascinating, although his expression suggested something about the wall was also tedious and somewhat irritating. “Sign here,” he ventured.
“He’s gone into torpor,” Naomi said.
“And why is that?”
“Someone shoved him into a freezer.”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” Floyd said. “I’m sure whoever did the freezer thing must have done it for a good reason. Sign here.”
“Someone poisoned him. The poison made it necessary to relocate him to a freezer.”
“Poisoned. Got it.”
“It needed to be done. The process was necessary. Going into torpor saved his life.”
Floyd switched the pen from one hand to the other and offered it to Naomi once more.
Naomi ignored it. “It isn’t as dramatic as you seem to imply,” she said, waving a hand. “I’ll admit to speculation on my part,
but no doubt someone unspecified, who happened to be interested in consolidating her power, needed him safely out of the way for an unspecified, yet doubtless justifiable and necessary reason.”
“Right. Unspecified consolidation of power. Makes perfect sense to me. Also, not my business. Don’t ask. Don’t care. That’s my motto. Still need you to sign.”
“I need the blaster, the tangler, and my four sentries. This is necessary. Brandon isn’t available to agree with my reasonable request, or he would.”
Floyd’s shoulders sagged. “If you’re positive he’d agree, then I don’t have a problem with it. Sign here, please.”
“Let’s run with your hypothetical assertions.” Naomi crossed her arms and attempted to loom ominously with her best haughty expression. “Assuming Brandon’s so-called ‘mysterious assailant’ wanted him out of the way, how does it make logical sense for you to then make an unfounded, unwarranted assumption that this mysterious and yet-to-be-identified assailant needed additional resources in order to consolidate her power?”
“I have no idea.”
“What exactly are you accusing me of? I need that blaster and four sentries for unspecified reasons!”
“Are you interested in sharing those reasons?”
“Unspecified, I said!”
Floyd hung his head even lower. “I’m not sure why I’m bothering.”
“Are you making an accusation?”
“My job isn’t to accuse. My job is to dole out the resources. You want blasters and sentries? Perfect. That’s great. We’ve got blasters and sentries. I pass them out and collect signatures. We’re good. Sign here, please.”
“And the tangler,” Naomi reminded him.
“And a tangler,” he agreed.
“Assuming, for the sake of argument, that I happened to be the mysterious assailant who had seized control, shouldn’t you be interested in staying on my good side?”
“Oh, for the—sign the damned form!”
“I don’t see why I should!” Naomi uncrossed her arms and folded them again to reiterate her point.
“How about this? Only someone who obeys the rules would sign. If you sign, that tells me you’re legitimate. That you’re not this mysterious assailant.”
Naomi blinked.
Floyd didn’t waver. “Well?”
“That makes crude, yet logical sense,” Naomi admitted.
“Thank you.”
Naomi took the form, her pen poised, ready to sign.
Then her eyes flew open wide, and she threw down the clipboard in a fury. “Very clever!” she cried. “The act of signing your form implicates me as a person posing as someone legitimate hoping to conceal his or her involvement, while at the same time establishes physical proof! I won’t do it!”
“Signing also implies you’re legitimately requisitioning equipment,” Floyd pointed out.
Naomi’s narrowed eyes regarded Floyd warily. “If that’s your assertion.”
“Yeah. Why don’t we go with that?”
Chapter Nineteen
Kim stepped outside onto the sidewalk, took a deep breath, and immediately regretted it. The nearby alley smelled of yesterday’s fast food—and even more unpleasant things. For a moment, she considered driving closer to their target destination, but decided against it. It wasn’t a long walk. They were close enough already.
Angel joined her from her side of the car. They continued on foot in silence. Only the intermittent glare of occasional streetlights holding the dark of night at bay marked their passing. It had only taken a few hours to identify the building from Kim’s vision. This had left the rest of the day free, but she and Angel had decided it would be best to approach well after nightfall.
A feeling of déjà vu swept over Kim as she took in the building for the first time. Somehow, the vision-memory seemed more genuine and realistic than the reality before her eyes.
Kim and Angel skirted between the empty parking lot and the lawn encircling it. With each step, Kim could feel the apprehension and self-doubt slowly worming its way into her heart. This was the right decision, wasn’t it? She and Angel were about to engage in a blatantly illegal act. What would happen if the police caught them? What would their new employer have to say about their actions?
Perhaps they could justify their choices in an abstract way, saying they were doing it for the greater good, but even knowing she was breaking the law to save billions wouldn’t be much of a consolation if they were sent to prison.
An overhead awning hung over a steel door. Kim stepped into its deep shadows, taking solace in the illusion of safety.
So far, so good. Now for the not-so-easy part.
Kim reached into her pocket and handed Angel a screwdriver and a package of bobby pins.
Angel stared at them. She looked at Kim, back to the collection, then back to Kim with a raised eyebrow.
“What are you waiting for?” Kim gestured to the locked door. “Go ahead.”
“I’m sorry, but what do you expect me to do?”
“Do your thing.” She waved her hand again. “Pick the lock.”
“Pick the lock,” Angel repeated slowly. “You want me to pick the lock.”
“Yes.”
“With a screwdriver.”
“With a screwdriver. Yes. And bobby pins.”
Angel’s incredulous look didn’t diminish.
“Listen, Angel, I know screwdrivers and bobby pins aren’t necessarily as good as actual, genuine lock picks, but I know for a fact it can be done. I’ve done it hundreds of times myself.”
Angel attempted to pass the collection back. “Care to demonstrate?”
“In Fallout 4,” Kim clarified, pushing the hand away. “I’ve done it hundreds of times playing Fallout 4.”
“We’re not playing Fallout.”
“Fallout 4,” corrected Kim. “Also Fallout 3. And Skyrim, come to think of it. And I know we’re not playing Fallout 4. Give me a little bit of credit, Angel. My point is that it’s a learnable skill, and your special talent is picking up new skills at the drop of a hat.”
“I learn skills through direct observation, not improvising.”
“You know that isn’t true. I once saw you climb an unclimbable tree without anyone showing you how. It may have taken a couple of tries before you figured it out, but you did it.”
“A tree ceases to be unclimbable the moment anyone climbs it,” Angel pointed out.
“My point is, it shouldn’t matter if you’ve done it before or not. Lessons are overrated. In Metal Gear Solid, they train you by making you stand in front of a locked door and tell you to press the action button.”
Angel still seemed unconvinced.
“How about this? I’ll describe it for you. You put the bobby pin partway in at the top. The screwdriver is underneath it.” Kim mimed holding a bobby pin in her left hand, holding it above and slightly to the left of her right. “You try to move the screwdriver clockwise as far as you can until you feel resistance. If that happens, back off and move the bobby pin to a different position.” She demonstrated. “Keep trying with new positions until you don’t feel resistance anymore, and the lock clicks open.” Her right hand progressed further with each setting until, finally, her hands crossed and both were horizontal.
Angel’s expression told Kim she was now incredulous as well as unconvinced. “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re describing opening a lock in a video game!”
“Again, not the point. I’m trying to convince you that it’s possible. People can pick locks with bobby pins and screwdrivers. I don’t know how because I’m not a professional thief. All I know is that it can be done.”
“Then why did you bother with your video game demonstration?”
Kim ran a hand through her hair, overcome with frustration. “I’m just trying to get you to do something, Angel. Take a chance. Do what feels right. Give trial and error a shot. Use my method and expand on it, or create your own. Try something, anything, and then you can tell me
you can’t do it.”
Angel looked down the street. “I don’t think we’ve adequately prepared for breaking and entering.”
“What are you talking about? How much more prepared do you want? They sell bobby pins in packs of sixty, and I brought along four packs. Even the failures should boost your skill.”
“You seriously expect this to work?”
“This is your special talent. You’re the girl with the hundred-odd lifetimes’ worth of gaming personalities competing for space in her head. Are you saying there’s not a master thief lurking around in there somewhere?”
“Allowing a literal as well as figurative rogue personality to assume dominance in my head seems like an extraordinarily bad idea.”
Kim pushed at the heavy steel door, feeling dejected. “I suppose you’re right,” she sighed. Then she brightened. “I’ve got it! Why not check out some lock-picking videos on the internet? Do you have Wi-Fi access in your head?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Angel held out her hand. “Let me see your cell phone.”
Kim unlocked her phone and passed it over.
As Angel searched for an appropriate video, Kim found a suitable place to stand lookout and dwell upon what was about to happen.
She hoped Blackgate would approve of or even sanction their actions, but what did she truly know? Harrison had hired them on Thursday morning. This was Saturday night. They hadn’t attended any sort of work-related orientation. They’d been given no formal instructions, or even been offered thinly veiled suggestions which could be loosely interpreted as permission. In fact, both she and Angel were making a lot of assumptions, any of which might be proven false the moment they talked to anyone in a position of authority.
If they were caught, would Blackgate lawyers bail them out, or disavow all knowledge of their existence? Had Harrison even processed the paperwork? It was anyone’s guess.
Angel passed Kim’s cell phone back to her. “Thank you.”
“You think you’ve got it?”
“We’ll find out.” Angel took a knee in front of the door, bit her tongue out the side of her mouth, and narrowed her eyes in her very best—but unnecessary—mask of determination ever.
