Division Zero

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Warning… you are in proximity violation to ComTec International’s property. Please retreat to the non-violation distance of at least five meters.”

  She let her face slap into the cold metal and shut her eyes. “Fuck off.”

  Even if there was ground below her to walk on, she doubted her body could do much more than breathe. Small comets of flaming debris fell past as chain reaction explosions ran among the cars.

  “Noncompliance will result in police notification; this is your final warning.” The emotionless cadence of the electronic voice had an air of sanctimony about it that would have made her angry if she had the strength to care. She wondered if the Harbingers would come for him. She wanted them to come for him.

  “I am the police, you stupid hunk of metal.” She wanted to yell, but produced only a whispery moan and a dribble of blood.

  “Your disrespect is noted, the police have been summoned.”

  A dire feeling interrupted her eye roll. She forced her head up and eyes open. Heavy black smoke billowed through the eleventh floor; the explosions had ceased. The walls at ground level roiled with darkness as a tide of black rose up from below. She strained to look as the wind whipped her hair into her face.

  Dozens of shadowy figures swarmed up the side of the parking garage and merged into the smoke. Somewhere in the dark, a primal wail of horror echoed out into the arriving night. She clung tighter to the ad-bot as if it would protect her from the malevolence saturating the area. The sound faded, and the ominous feeling receded just as abruptly as it had manifested.

  Good, bastard. You deserved that.

  “You, there, what are you doing?” The un-robotic voice of a man came down on her from above.

  “Huh?” Kirsten peeled her face off the steel hull of the droid. She squinted through the wind at a six-inch holographic head that frowned at her from the glowing tip of a small rod. He was a corporate weasel, bald with a fringe of brown hair around his head, with the faint shadow of a dark suit bordering the image below.

  So much for calling the police. Are corporations ever honest?

  “You’re not supposed to be that close to our hardware, miss. As a matter of fact, it looks like you damaged it.”

  “Land the damn thing and I’ll be quite happy to fall off it. If you haven’t noticed I’m about nine stories off the ground.”

  “There’s no need to get snippy, young lady, certainly not after you damaged our property. Besides, I cannot land the droid, it’s against policy. No deviations from the route are approved. Now, off you go.” He made shooing motions with a hand that drifted into the image.

  She blinked. “Are you suggesting I just fall to my death?” Blood rolled down her chin.

  “What you do after you are no longer in contact with our property is not my concern.”

  “So help me I am going to kick your balls into your throat if I ever find you in person.”

  “I’m trying to be civil about this, my dear. As gracious as I am, you make threats? Do you really want me to get the police involved? They don’t take kindly to little vandals.”

  Kirsten just stared at him; the situation reached so far beyond the pale that she had nothing else to say. She let her cheek slap into the droid again. The pain in her chest neared the point where letting go did not seem like such a bad idea after all. His prattle faded into meaningless jumbles of sound until flashing red and blue lights entered the edge of her senses. A voice came over a loudspeaker ordering the bot to descend. The hologram protested, citing lost revenue.

  Hands settled on her, pulling her away from the droid, carrying her to a hovercar pulled up alongside. She slid onto the rear seat, barely aware of a man holding her hand.

  Her shirt tugged open and fingers examined her injuries. The grip squeezed her fingers. Something beeped, something hissed, and she heard Dorian’s voice.

  “I’m sorry.”

  oft warmth surrounded her; and with it came a sense of weightlessness amid viscous liquid. The substance muted sound save for the faint thrum of distant machinery it carried into her ears. Kirsten opened her eyes. The room outside shimmered through a haze of peach-hued light. Her naked body floated inside a clear cylindrical tube stretching from floor to ceiling. She looked down past her toes at the metal floor, a patchwork of electronics and gratings. Two people in white coats, a woman and a man, worked at terminals a few feet away. Blood ran to her face; she felt trapped and exposed.

  The gel filled her mouth and throat with the flavor of strawberry.

  An attempt at a scream sent blood in a torrent of silent fluid past her lips, reminding her it filled her lungs. The sanguine cloud billowed in front of her face and then faded away, devoured by millions of nanobots. She put her hands on the glass wall; thankful unconsciousness had spared her the panic of having to drown her way in.

  I wonder if Nicole feels this vulnerable in here; she’s in these things twice a week. Kirsten tried to cover herself as best she could. Knowing the nanobots would mistake clothing for contamination and destroy any coverings did not make her feel any better. Only so much program code fit in robots that small.

  Nicole probably likes the attention.

  Kirsten froze with panic. The feeling of imprisonment came too close to the closet, the exposure too close to the time her mother had spanked her in front of her friends. Shivers traced fingers of pain through her ribs, reminding her of the explosion. She doubled over, another short-lived red nebula formed at her lips.

  These are medics. I’m safe.

  A man’s voice echoed through the gel like the voice of God. “Please remain still, Agent Wren. We are repairing your lung tissue. If you move around it will take longer.”

  She pictured an army of little crab-like robots moving in formation inside her, feeling a sudden tingle spread through her chest. Out of curiosity, she peeked at their minds. Most of their surface thoughts went over her head, but she picked out enough to understand broken ribs, punctured lungs, torn muscles and joint dislocations.

  Her hair drifted in a diaphanous mass; she hung limp and waited, finding the sensation of the heavy gel passing in and out through her nose tiring and unpleasant. With the passage of time, the embarrassing cage of glass took on more and more the sense of a womb. She daydreamed about being safe within a mother who did not want to hurt her. She curled into a fetal position.

  Is this what it’s like to be unborn?

  Her mind drifted back to her first days here with the psych man. He had tried to help her distance herself from her mother, but she found no one else to whom she wanted to attach. It hit her then that she dwelled in self-inflicted loneliness. She toyed with the fantasy of Division 0 as her mother, and this her true birth. A feeling opened her eyes. Her dad stood just inside the door, an expectant father pacing. She scratched at the glass, wanting it open. He looked about to leave, and she tried to scream.

  Dad, please don’t go away.

  A woman’s voice filled the gel. “Agent Wren, are you alright?”

  Her eyes opened again. A black-haired woman tapped on the outside of the tube; the words ‘Sophia Cruz, MD’ stenciled on her coat, huge and warped by the curved plastic. Kirsten tried to look past her at the door. No trace of him remained; she wilted.

  I’m okay… I guess I was dreaming. You know I can’t talk in here, why are you asking me questions?

  The woman jumped back, alarmed. It took her a second to realize what happened and she stammered before finding her voice again.

  “I’m sorry, Agent. I’m still not used to telepaths. We’re ready to take you out of the tube. I guess since you can actually answer me, I’ll spare you the rote speech. This looks like your first time, have you ever used breathable gel before?”

  Kirsten shook her head through a gossamer cloud of platinum blonde.

  “Okay. A lot of people have trouble with B-Gel. It’s more traumatic to go in than out, so the worst part is already over. Once the fluid has drained enough, lift your butt into the air and keep you
r head near the ground. Let gravity do the work.”

  Kirsten shivered. She had not thought she could get more embarrassed. The woman pressed a button and the silvery presence of air congealed at the top of the tank. Over the course of several minutes, the vents below her devoured the gel.

  Her weight settled onto her feet; she leaned against the tube as she slipped along the metal pad.

  “Don’t try to stand. It’s very slippery.” The doctor spoke in a rehearsed soothing tone. “Just let yourself down with the gel to the floor.”

  As the last of the gel slurped into the drains, she knelt as instructed and coughed up the fluid. It came in streamers out of her nose and gurgled through her teeth, feeling halfway between vomiting and drowning.

  Once the clear barrier sank into the floor, the doctor threw a white robe over her. She huddled into the cloth as her body reacted to the presence of liquid in her breathing passage. Doctor Cruz spoke, though Kirsten’s attempt to breathe and expunge the gel at the same time distorted the voice into a blur of comforting sounds and pats. When the convulsive panic ceased, she looked up to a spinning room. The doctor helped her to her feet and escorted her over to take a seat on a bed.

  She curled up, shivering as the heated pad made the room feel colder. Small bits of fluid came up into a nearby tray over the next few minutes and she dabbed her face with a provided towel.

  “Rest as long as you need. There is a shower unit over there and fresh clothes waiting for you on the chair, courtesy of your Captain. If you feel any pain, discomfort, or if anything happens you don’t understand, just ask the room to call us.” Doctor Cruz squeezed her shoulder, smiled, and left her alone.

  Kirsten lay back into the warm bed, clinging to the robe and enjoying the simple feeling of breathing.

  “How are you doing?”

  Dorian’s shirt moved into her view. She smiled. “I’ve had better days.”

  His uniform descended as he sat in a nearby chair. He glanced down at his fidgeting fingers.

  “Are you okay?” She tried to stop shivering.

  “I should have helped more, but… the car.”

  Kirsten threaded her hand out of the blanket. “It’s okay. A lot of spirits are terrified of leaving their foci. Your two hundred meter thing isn’t a limit, it’s fear.”

  He took her hand as she forced herself solid to him, even though it hurt.

  “You’re my partner, K. I can’t let my stupidity kill you.”

  She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. “Stop blaming yourself for Nila. She lived.”

  “She’s barely left her house in three years; she’s terrified of guns now.”

  Kirsten sat up with a grimace. “Staying home with her daughter might have saved her from getting killed by someone else. Her kid still has a mom.”

  “True, but she’s not the same person.” He stood up. “The squad’s outside, you should get cleaned up. I’ll let you shower in peace.”

  He wandered through the wall, leaving a silhouette of condensation on the steel. She sat up, arms in her lap, and sighed. The once-slippery gel had become sticky.

  Captain Eze met her outside with a broad smile. “Good to see you in one piece.”

  The rest of her unit gathered around. Relief swept through the crowd. Nicole ran over and hugged her.

  “Thanks, guys.” Kirsten choked up.

  The captain presented her with accessories: another sidearm, an E90 just like her old one, stun rod, cuffs, psi inhibitor, and a fresh case of stimpaks.

  “How long was I out?”

  “Only a few hours. Oh, by the way, can you explain why a patrol unit shot down an ad-bot? ComTec is complaining.”

  “I dunno… I was zonked.” She giggled. “But I can guess.”

  “There’s a story there. Perhaps you can fill me in when you return. Oh, and I’ll need a full report about that explosion.”

  “Return?” She lifted an eyebrow.

  “Yes.” He put an arm over her shoulders. “You should take a day or two in order to collect yourself.”

  “I’m fine, really. What’s a few broken ribs?”

  “Not to mention a punctured lung, cracked hip, mild concussion…” Eze clucked his tongue. “Albert’s gonna kill again and he won’t take a day off. No one else is equipped to deal with him.” She thought for a minute. “I need to go see someone.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Be careful. You’re supposed to deal with ghosts, not become one.”

  he whole team took her out to dinner to celebrate her recovery. She wanted to leave to catch Albert, but Eze had popped for a place that did not use OmniSoy. Nicole teased her at length for losing her ‘tube-ginity’. She kept looking around for her dad, but he did not appear. A few tactical officers were called on an emergency and she used the opportunity to duck out and go to the Division 0 dorm.

  With a light knock, she walked into a small room. Evan looked up, sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed amid a mass of e-books and holo disks. His too-thin body seemed lost in the silhouette of his pajamas. He flicked the pause on the video game unit plugged into his goggles without even looking at the device, flung it off his head, and ran to hug her.

  She scooped him up and fell back into an oversized chair with him in her lap. His thick mop of hair formed an almost sphere around his face, and he bounced with energy.

  “Hey, kid.” She beamed. “How do you like it here?”

  “It’s awesome!” He employed the favorite word of nine-year-olds.

  Far different from the boy she found in the alley, he had no trace of sorrow in his eyes, a dramatic change in only a few days. Kirsten thought back to her arrival here; it had taken her months to be able to be in the same room with a woman over forty without cowering in the corner. It thrilled her to see Evan cast off his lousy origin so fast.

  She played with him for a while, letting him steer the activity from one game to the next. He asked about when she lived here and she shared stories. Unlike Evan, she had expected the police would take her back to her mother, and they had to drag her in kicking and screaming. After she learned the truth, it became a happy home. Her mind listened to her story as if someone else told it; the happier parts of her teen years sounded distant and far away.

  The nanny came by, chasing the psionic children to sleep. Kirsten held her hand up. “I need him for a few more minutes; officially.”

  “Okay Kiki, but don’t make me haul you to bed, too.”

  The old nickname made her feel like a child again. Kirsten used to hate it, especially from the female staff, but today it felt welcoming, in an odd sort of way. Evan looked up with the eagerness borne upon the dream of shooting bad guys.

  “Evan, I need your help with a case.”

  He bounced, making her laugh again.

  “Do I get a laser gun?”

  “Not tonight, but maybe someday.”

  “Yaaaaaay!” He ran in a circle around the room.

  “Hey, c’mere. Sit.” She guided him onto the edge of the bed and crouched eye to eye. “Remember when I first met you, that trick you were using?”

  “Yeah.” He pouted.

  “Can you show me how to do it? It’s very important.”

  “I guess.” He ground his toe into the floor, mourning the dreams of riding in a police cruiser. Squinting with a suspicious look, he muttered. “Wait, you’re stronger than me, why can’t you do it already?”

  “I just never tried. C’mon.” She helped him into bed.

  Yelling, he zoomed into the bathroom. “Wait. I gotta brush my teeth or Nanny Linda will be sad at me.”

  In a few minutes, he scrambled back and dove on the bed, sending a cascade of gadgets over the side.

  She dragged the chair closer and settled in. Evan watched, swishing his feet back and forth under the sheet as he waited for her to get comfortable. She could not look at him without inheriting his grin.

  “Okay, how does it work?”

  “Close your eyes. You can see ghosts,
so think of yourself like a ghost stuck inside your body.”

  Kirsten searched his thoughts, getting a feel for how he focused. He stopped moving his legs and went still; his voice took on a tired slur as he described how he tried to concentrate on the spirit inside. His thoughts illustrated how he channeled his energy in ways he could not verbalize. Between what she felt and what he said, she searched for the sense of a separate astral being within her body.

  Her breathing slowed, and then she felt it.

  Arms and legs grew heavy and became leaden; the sound of her heartbeat built into deafening thunder and then stalled to perfect silence with a sense of weightlessness. Her consciousness embodied an intangible presence that floated away from the warmth of her body. Air circled her, making her feel as though she walked out into the street naked.

  Instinctively, she recoiled from the sensation of being exposed. Something pulled at her from behind, dragging her down into a black well of fear and humiliation. The fall made her scream, but the voice she made did not belong to her, it sounded much younger.

  Kirsten felt cold air on her legs but saw only darkness. Coarse rug scratched her bare feet and her mind struggled to comprehend the frigidity within her toes.

  Did Evan pull my boots off? Why is it so dark? Did I screw this up somehow?

  Reaching out, her fingers brushed cloth above her and found four close walls. Stinging pain entered her consciousness from the palm of her right hand and a dull ache spread across her back. Everything felt so familiar.

  Her breath drew in short gasps as she fought the abject panic engulfing her. She had been here before; the burning in her hand she had felt so often. A dirty, torn dress covered her body, soaked wet through the chest from tears. The texture of the cheap carpet on her legs welcomed her home again. Her mother’s scent clung to the coats above her, suffocating with its presence.