Division Zero

by Matthew S. Cox

  She caught herself awake again, having drifted off; the clock crept up on nine in the morning. As much as she did not want to move, she did not want to push Eze’s tolerance too far. Dragging herself out of bed, she staggered to the bathroom, catching the doorjamb to avoid falling. The walls and floor blended in a nauseating dance. Kicking the door closed, she wobbled up to the shower tube and shed her undies. The room became a blur of semiconscious delirium, made worse by the phantom knife through her brain. She fumbled for the shower tube latch for over a minute before she got it to open.

  The warm embrace of the water felt incredible; the tension ran down her body with the droplets, vanishing into the drain. After a long moment of bliss, she opened her eyes and met the lustful stare of a man in a shiny black trench coat standing with her in the tube. His white painted face had several streaks of black makeup, star patterns around his eyes. His dirty clothing gave him the look of a street person; baggy black pants clung to his legs, adhered to the skin with blood.

  She screamed and twisted in an effort to cover her nakedness. Jumping into the side of the tube with a thump, she scrambled to get away. He did not move, continuing to admire her body. She closed her eyes and took in a breath, realizing she had forgotten to blockade the room. Ghosts had walked in on embarrassing moments before, this being the second time for this one in particular.

  “Dammit, Theodore, Get out!”

  “I like the view better here.” His lips curled into a weak smile. “You forgot to wall off the room again. To be honest, this is much nicer than catching you on the throne.”

  The water frothing out of the shower mechanism passed through without wetting him, his clothes as dry as ever―except the places soaked with blood.

  She felt caged. He stood by the hatch and she could not, no matter how hard she tried, force her body through the plastic wall behind her.

  “Why do you care? You’re fucking dead.” She swatted at him, her hand dispersed part of his image into silvery mist that reintegrated.

  She could slap him if she wanted to, but lacked the requisite focus of mind due to her embarrassment. He devoured her with his gaze. Her hands moved wherever his eyes went, but soon she realized he controlled her and got as much of a view as he wanted.

  A voice laden with gravel filled the tube. “I may be dead, but I’m not dead.”

  Red-faced and mortified, she just glared.

  “It sounded funnier in here.” He poked himself in the side of the head. “Oh, I got something for ya.” He raised his hand with the sudden change of topic.

  She squinted at him. “So help me if you touch me right now I will lash you into oblivion.”

  “Relax. Geez, no wonder you can’t get a date.” He chuckled, lowering his arm. “Yanno, eventually you gotta let a guy that ain’t dead see the goods.”

  She sank to the floor, doing anything she could to cover as much of her body as possible. “Please at least get out of the autoshower.”

  “Or girl if dat’s your thing.”

  “Out!” she shrieked loud enough to make the tube vibrate.

  His shape became indistinct through the foggy plastic shell. Feeling some degree of privacy from the blur, she stood up and restarted the shower.

  I’m not opening the tube while he’s here, might as well finish.

  “Did you actually have something useful for me or was that just a cheap line?” She closed her eyes as soap splashed over her. She could not stop thinking about being stared at. I could blockade the tube… oh, screw it.

  “Yep.” His words muted through the plastic. “I got info for you about those crazy dolls.”

  Blind and covered with soap, she turned to face the sound of the voice as the water ran over her. “What? Tell me.”

  His voice lost the subdued quality, becoming clear―and close. “He’s going to strike again today.”

  Kirsten’s right eye snapped open, sensing the change. His pasty white face protruded through the plastic right in front of her breasts. With a shriek, she slapped at him, but hit the tube wall as he leaned back. She cradled her hand to her chest and whined.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Laughter echoed from outside. “The way you react makes me laugh. I decided I enjoy making people uncomfortable. Scaring the shit out of them is so passé, it got boring about sixty years ago.”

  She grumbled as the shower kicked into dry mode and her hair danced up and around her in the warm air. He would just stand there until she walked out into the open. She could win only by ignoring him but she did not know if she had the wherewithal to streak past a man, even a dead one.

  “Well, tell me already, where? Who is it?”

  “I dun got that much detail.” He paced, waving the loose belt of his coat around. “I hear things, whispers. He’s going to the mall.”

  “The mall? Which one, there’s a hundred.”

  “Several hundred actually if you take the entire city into account.”

  She braced her hands against the plastic tube, searching for the conviction to just do it. He laughed at having her trapped in the cylindrical enclosure.

  “You know, these panties look like they belong to a schoolgirl. You should try something in red silk. No, black… Black would set off your hair.”

  She cringed. She had dropped them right there on the floor in plain sight. The ambiance of the room changed as Theodore released energy. His blur leaned down and picked up something white from the floor. Her face reddened when she heard him inhaling.

  Penance for being a slob.

  “Exquisite.” His voice, deep and throaty, followed the long breath.

  The white shape fell without a sound to the rug.

  She had two ways out of the shower. The embarrassing way might be productive. The second would make her feel better, but even if he survived, she doubted he would tell her what she needed to know.

  She shoved the shower open and walked out as casual as she could force. She could not hide the blush that glowed from face to chest, but ignored it. He leered as she pulled a new set of undergarments from the white box and tore the pack open. In her haste for coverage, she almost tripped as she stepped into them. For three minutes, she struggled to clip the bra behind her back while Theodore kept popping it open. Having had enough, she turned at him with glowing eyes and an astral whip in her grasp. He raised his hands in surrender and backed off with a smile of feigned innocence. She clipped the bra and stormed out into the main room, scowling.

  “Okay, fine, you win.” He followed as she slammed the door through him. “You know, they say wearin’ a bra actually makes them sag worse when you’re older.”

  She fumed, unable to get her sweat suit on fast enough. His voice floated over her shoulder, close enough to kiss.

  “Hanford Plaza Mall in sector 93 later this afternoon, at the food court. I consider us even on the mirror, even though you technically broke it.”

  She spun, but he had gone. The blush, however, lingered.

  Her father did not show up as she waited for the PubTran bus. She had once daydreamed of being free from his nagging presence every morning, but relief manifested as sorrow. She studied the crowd as people approached, hoping to see him, to no avail. When the bus arrived, she plodded to her usual seat, staring at the floor and ignoring the pole. She felt more alone than ever, and shrank into herself with her arms folded. She dozed on the ride until the overwhelming smell of oil and scorched plastic choked her awake.

  The man from the intersection appeared in the seat next to her. Few people rode the bus at this hour, so she felt no awkwardness talking to him.

  She offered a polite smile. “Hi.”

  His voice wavered with confusion. “You looked at me.”

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this…”

  “Eddie.” He nodded. “I’ve been waiting on this bus every day since you looked at me, where have you been?”

  “I’m sorry to have to break this to you, Eddie, but you’re dead.”

&n
bsp; His gaze sank into his lap.

  “I saw you in the street the other day, I―”

  “Everyone else is ignoring me.” He looked up with urgency in his eyes.

  “They’re not ignoring you, Eddie. They can’t see or hear you. You’re a ghost.”

  He shook his head and muttered ‘no’ a dozen times. With all the gangs, vigilantes, crazies, accidents, and corporate warfare, the city had a ton of ghosts like him. He followed her all the way to her desk, walking right into her squad room.

  “Who are you talking to?” Dorian looked up.

  “Eddie. Traffic accident, I think.”

  “Another denier?” Dorian looked back at his screen. “That’s unfortunate.”

  Eddie pouted at him.

  “Don’t worry, Eddie. I’ll tell your family anything you want.”

  “Can you meet me at the house tonight or tomorrow?”

  “I’ll try to get there as soon as I can but I have something I need to deal with first.”

  After giving her the address, he walked out through the wall, whimpering. She groaned and ran her fingers through her hair. “Do I have sap written on my forehead?”

  “You just care.” Dorian did not look up.

  Nicole fluttered by, dropping off a coffee for her. “Rough morning?”

  “No, just a late one.”

  “Why are you blushing?”

  Kirsten felt embarrassed all over again. “Blushing… am I still blushing?”

  “Yeah, like a beet.”

  “She’s exaggerating,” said Dorian.

  “Dammit. Theodore surprised me in the shower this morning.”

  “Oooo.” She cooed. “Sounds like fun.”

  Kirsten squinted. “You are a soulless ginger aren’t you? Theodore’s a ghost.”

  “Sounds kinky.” Nicole laughed, calling out as she wandered off. “No, I just have a wild imagination.”

  With a roll of her eyes, Kirsten flicked on her terminal and added a summary of what she had learned so far to her notes. Even if she had no way to trust Theodore’s information, she wanted to get to the mall just in case.

  n Kirsten’s mind, the scrapes of her plastic fork rose above the din of the mall at Hanford Plaza. She picked at the plate, pushing formless blobs around through a sea of brown rice. Supposedly chow mein, it looked like the sidewalk after a flock of incontinent seagulls used it for target practice. Her table sat adjacent to a glass partition separating the dining area from the vertical shaft at the center of the mall. From here, she could see three floors up and four down. A tree, rumored to be real, occupied the center of the hollow. Artificial birds chirped and darted, flying between the branches and the solar pumps far above. The food court bustled with people from old to young; some shopped, some talked, and some just walked around. Small indoor ad-bots chased the birds around the tree, drifting up and down to each floor in an endless orbital pattern.

  We’re not even safe inside…

  Thousands of conversations filled the air and the melodic presence of ad jingles drifted in and out as the bots passed by the glass. The occasional outburst from a small child or automated display rose out of the ambiance to grab the attention of those around it for a few seconds. The food court consumed the entire level, covered by dull green tiles stained with a century of spilled reconstituted food. Miniscule restaurants of every type jammed together all around the exterior wall.

  Each table had a small purpose-built terminal where at the swipe of a finger any item from any restaurant would be whisked to your side by one of the big-breasted dolls drifting among the dining public, transporting food and collecting trash as they walked in the ghostly footsteps of another generation’s job. Trying to save money, the mall repurposed old sex dolls into waitresses. The thought made the slime on her plate even less appetizing. She tensed when one turned without warning at a man in a shiny grey suit, but it just walked away after nodding at him.

  Just a waiting game now. Theo wouldn’t lie about this… I hope.

  One woman’s voice floated above the noise, the independent bird soaring astray of the flock. She complained to her friend about how her son had to go to Mars to find a job for the summer, and how she thought of moving to a colony world herself to escape the congestion. Just as fast, the flock caught up and the conversation drowned in the noise. Kirsten kept watch on the waitresses, eyed the people eating, and sulked at the crime against nature on the plate in front of her, wondering how awful the tea would taste by comparison.

  Scratching fork.

  “You’d be better off eating the tray than whatever that is.” Dorian laughed from across the table.

  She frowned at the mess. “Yeah, for once I think I agree with you. I thought veggies were supposed to be healthy. I’m no expert on Chinese food, but I don’t think it’s supposed to look like this.”

  “Just another step removed from the Earth. I think their assembler misplaced a molecule, looks like it is devolving into squiggles of OmniSoy.”

  Kirsten giggled. “When did you start hugging trees?”

  “So how are you holding up?” He took on a more serious tone.

  Just looking at him distracted her for a moment. His unexpected question caused her to turn with a faint blush. “Fine, why?”

  “The boy from the other night, the whole situation seemed to really bother you. I have never seen you so angry before. Mick, was that his name? He’s rocking back and forth in a ward now… keeps saying ‘bastard’ over and over again while drooling on himself. The doctors think it might pass in a few days.”

  She looked at him, trying to feel guilty, but could not. “When I first saw Evan, I thought he might be a ghost.” Her hands folded in her lap, gaze drawn to random children. “You know how I am about kids. I know death isn’t the end of our consciousness, but it still feels so wrong when it’s a child.”

  “Evan isn’t dead.”

  Kirsten pushed the schlock around the plate. “Yeah, not for that son of a bitch’s lack of trying. I never saw someone projecting before.”

  “Really? You’re one of the more notable astrals Division 0 is aware of. If I remember my research properly, projection is a related talent.”

  “So?” She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I can, but I just never bothered learning how. Dorian?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Did it bother you when you had to kill people?”

  “They all deserved it.” He fidgeted. “I looked in their heads. They were killers, rapists…”

  “You have second thoughts now, don’t you?”

  Dorian glanced at his forearm guard. “Dammit. Someone is messing with the car. I’ll be right back.” He jogged off, leaving her alone with the protoplasm.

  She knew he tried to get her to admit she had seen her mother instead of that man, the same sort of game he always played. The chatter over her ear bud derailed her from the subject. The Division 5 team in the maintenance corridors grew edgy at waiting.

  Giving up on the miasma, which had moments ago ceased having a specific aroma, she dumped it in a trash bin a few paces away and leaned on the railing.

  Despite the ubiquity of delivery bots, some citizens still preferred the tactile nature of in-person shopping. Most physical stores carried clothing or cyberware, focusing on things people wanted to see and touch before buying. A holo vid hanging in front of a store one floor down touted custom clothing made for you on the premises. On one panel, a woman stepped onto a metal disc in her underwear before robotic arms ‘printed’ a dark blue dress onto her within a minute.

  All yours for the low price of six thousand credits.

  A scream from below made her jump. Two young men, somewhere around seventeen, sprinted by on the ground floor. Pale and terrified, the one leading appeared to have wet his pants. People turned as they ran through the concourse and out the door. She smiled, and let out a laugh as she sat back down. The green tea seemed at least worth drinking.

  The enjoyment of it did not last.

  As soon
had she took a sip, a bad feeling came over the area, centered on a man moving through the food court at a brisk stride. About thirty, he had neat blonde hair and green eyes. His prominent nose reminded her of the tram ghost’s comment and his furrowed brow lent an air of imperiousness to his hurried gait. A white lab coat made him look like some kind of technician, either an engineer or a medic.

  The coat flowed in the air like a cape, lifted by the speed with which he moved. An itch in the back of her mind was confirmed when he walked right through a bank of tables without disturbing them. She tracked his gaze to a waitress dropping off food at a table with a woman and two little girls who giggled and clapped at their arriving meals.

  Oh, no. No fucking way!

  Her chair fell as she leapt out of it, focusing her power through her body to make it tangible to ghosts. Straining, she rushed to intercept before he reached the doll so perilous in its proximity to such innocence. Her imagination ran away with the scene; haunting her with images of what could happen if a crazy doll got its hands on a three- and a six-year-old.

  Kirsten leapt onto him from behind, just as his fingertips traced across the back of the doll’s pink vest. The mother screamed, watching her land on the tiles a few feet away with an incredible splatter of clear ectoplasmic slime. Unheard by all but Kirsten, the man yelped with surprise at being not only seen, but touched.

  The ghost shifted, changing front to back in an instant. As he glared, his initial shock at contact changed to anger. She struggled to hold him down as he tried to reach the mechanical woman.

  Kirsten looked back over her shoulder at the table. “You, waitress, get out of here!”

  “Can I help you?” It turned; face whirring into a preprogrammed smile.

  “Are you alright, miss?” The girls’ mother stood and took a step toward Kirsten, gasping as she slipped in the ooze all over the floor. That Kirsten thrashed about, floating inches above the ground, alarmed her more. The woman leapt back, astonishment changing to terror as an unseen force flipped Kirsten over and her uniform bunched beneath invisible choking hands.