Division Zero

by Matthew S. Cox

  I’m not sure I do.

  Thick black smoke welled up over the edge of the wall, rising into a legless humanoid shape with pale flickering sparks where eyes should be. Kirsten glanced up at it, and to her surprise, its smoky face turned toward her. As soon as it no longer looked at him, Dorian bolted through the door, out of sight. Wispy tendrils of fog threaded from Albert’s body as if drawn into a black hole. The spirit wriggled, unable to flee from the Harbinger.

  Her words came out in a weak hint of a voice. “Please, a moment?”

  The apparition returned a curt nod and refocused its stare at its quarry, but ceased moving closer. Albert slid backwards, and slumped against the glass wall. Wispy threads of black infiltrated the ghost’s form, rising out of the ground as the Harbinger held him in place.

  The shock of it honoring her request wore off in a few seconds. “What happened to you, Albert?”

  The glow in her eyes faded and the tendril of energy dissipated, darkening the area with its absence.

  “I thought Intera was different. They were great at first, but they stifled my creativity and refused to compensate me for my talent. They killed me because I wanted a better life. What right do they have to kill me just for wanting a better job?” Albert glanced out into the sky, searching for Mars. “They never even made a counter offer. I would have stayed.”

  Kirsten shook her head in disgust. “So that’s all this was?”

  Albert nodded, again gazing to the black form waiting at the edge. “I wanted to ruin them. You were right, it wasn’t one person; I wanted the whole company to go down.”

  “You lost whatever piece of your soul your father admired. Innocent people are dead for no other reason than you wanted more money or more recognition. How are their lives worth less than yours?”

  His eyes searched her face for an answer.

  After a minute of silence, he gasped, “They’re not. I… I’m sorry.”

  She offered a respectful bow to the black form.

  It drifted closer, making Albert scream. “Wait, no, don’t let it get me… You promised my father…”

  “Albert, you sealed your fate the moment you killed the innocent. There is no walking away. I promised your father I would not destroy you, and I am not going to. Your fate might improve if you accept responsibility for what you did. Maybe someday, somewhere, you’ll find that beach again.”

  After the lashing, the lines of Albert’s body had faded to indistinct foggy whorls, leaving him transparent and spectral, too weak to appear solid. He stared at the looming blackness, shivering as it drifted closer and closer. He pantomimed taking a deep breath, stood up, and his shivering stopped. Wispy claws of infinite black spread out from its hands in preparation to strike.

  Albert stepped toward it as if to surrender.

  The Harbinger leaned its head back in acceptance as its talons faded into its formless body. Raising an arm, it engulfed him in a cloak of shadow and vanished in a smear of night that darted across the ground and over the edge of the building.

  Kirsten let her emotions settle, watching the Harbinger fade off into the distance as the all-consuming dread waned. In the span of breaths, everything fell quiet save for the wind. Dorian ventured onto the patio. He looked tired, but smiled anyway.

  “I have never seen one of them even acknowledge a person before, what aren’t you telling me?” He wandered closer, wearing a strange smile.

  Kirsten stared into the night. “I have no idea…”

  “What aren’t you saying?” He poked her.

  “It’s probably nothing, but… when I was hanging on the ad-bot, I wanted the Harbingers to come for the man that tried to kill me. As soon as I did, they showed up. The same thing happened here when I decided not to destroy Albert.”

  “Outside Albert’s apartment, too.” He smiled for a quiet minute. “It’s probably just coincidental timing.”

  She thought for a moment, and gulped. “Yeah, probably.”

  “Three coincidences.” He winked.

  The warm spot in the center of her back grew cold as Marisa lifted her face away. “Can I look now, miss?”

  “Of course, sweetie.” Kirsten turned to face her. “Let’s get you out of this cold.”

  Marisa peeked at the patio, clutching her hands to her chest. “Officer? Who were you talking to?”

  “My partner.”

  The child leaned around her, looking left and right. “I don’t see anyone.”

  Kirsten winked at him. “He’s sneaky like that.”

  She carried Marisa into the much warmer office, closing the doors to block out the wind. Shock dulled the girl’s emotions. No longer crying, she gazed into the distance. Kirsten knew the stare well. The psychiatrists said the same thing about her ten years ago, so much trauma she just shut it all away to deal with later. Easing her into one of the soft chairs, Kirsten covered her with the blanket from the couch, noticing a bruise at the base of the neck where the doll had gripped her dress. Marisa cringed at the approaching stimpak, but relaxed when it did not hurt.

  The girl pulled the blanket tight. “Where will I go now?”

  “Your mother wants you to live with your aunt.”

  Marisa frowned into her lap. “My mother’s dead.”

  Kirsten put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I know. I spoke to her the other day. She is still worried about you.”

  The girl looked up. “Is she a ghost?”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Does it hurt?” The innocence of the question choked Kirsten up.

  Some ghosts, like the ones at the asylum, existed in perpetual agony. Circumstances of death played a large part, but that subject sounded far too philosophical for an eight-year-old to deal with in the wake of losing both parents. Mrs. Talbot had not acted as if suffering, so she felt confident in her answer.

  “No, she is just worried about you.”

  Marisa stared for a long minute, breaking the silence with an awkward question.

  “Who was the black cloud man?”

  Kirsten flicked the kid’s nose with one finger. “I told you not to look.”

  She fidgeted. “I peeked a little.”

  “Well, Marisa, there are good people and there are bad people. When really bad people die, those things come to punish them.”

  “Did it take Daddy too?”

  She exchanged grimaces with Dorian. “Uhm… I don’t know.”

  “The bad doll said Daddy killed Mommy. Did he try to kill you?”

  “It was a mistake. He thought I wanted to steal from him.”

  “But you’re a police lady! Police people don’t steal.”

  Dorian chuckled. “Oh, from the mouth of babes.”

  Kirsten offered a weak smile and a shrug.

  A single tear rolled out of Marisa’s eye. “If Daddy was bad, wouldn’t the black cloud man take him away too?”

  Wait, what? The girl saw it too? Sometimes kids can… She doesn’t feel psionic. Did that one manifest?

  A part of Kirsten’s mind created a mental image of an ocean of Harbingers waiting at the street level for Lucian with eager claws; but a stronger idea replaced it. Kirsten sat down and put an arm around the girl’s back.

  “Your dad did some very bad things. But in his last moments, he gave himself to protect you. He could have jumped for the railing to save his own life, but he loved you too much.”

  Marisa’s face contorted as sadness took over. The tears returned. Kirsten patted her on the back, telling her to let it out, and comforting her as she wailed for some minutes.

  Dorian glanced at the wall seconds before a voice bellowed in from outside.

  “Some suit takes a friggin’ swan dive off the penthouse, what’s to investigate? Ya don’t need a medical degree to determine the cause of death for this guy: Sudden Pause of Linear Accelerated Trajectory. Or, as I like to call it, SPLAT.”

  “Man, you gotta have some kind of problems to do a thing like that. Couldn’t have the decency to just sh
oot himself? He coulda killed someone on the way down; fell right through the hover lane.” The sound of armored boots joined in with the voices.

  The first spoke again, a hint of laughter between his words. “Did you see the car? You could almost recognize his face in the frickin’ dent.”

  An automatic door hissed.

  “Damn, what the hell happened in here? Looks like the guy didn’t just off himself. Total meltdown, talk about a bad day on the trading floor.”

  The inner office door opened with a pneumatic squeak as two Division 1 patrol officers walked in, surveying the scene. Marisa had stopped sobbing and stared at them with a look of silent revulsion as tears continued to run down her cheeks.

  “What the heck is wrong with you?” Kirsten glared at them. “I see your sensitivity training has paid off. I’m sure Mr. Talbot’s little daughter appreciates your respect for her father.” Kirsten squeezed the girl protectively.

  The two men stared at the girl, then at each other, then at Kirsten, and then at Kirsten’s rank insignia. “Uhm… Sorry, ma’am.”

  “Did you park on the roof? Grab a real blanket for her.” Kirsten half-yelled at them while she ran her hand over the child’s hair to soothe her.

  “No, ma’am. This one’s pointy, no roof landing pad. We’re parked all the way over in the northeast tower. Got the full tour on the way over.”

  One of the officers called over the comm for someone to bring up a blanket and a med team. Kirsten comforted Marisa while the police secured the area and a medical crew arrived, pulling a clean white hoverbed. Kirsten helped lift her onto the waiting stretcher after a few passes from scanners showed no major injuries.

  “Don’t go.” She refused to release Kirsten’s hand.

  “I have to find your aunt. It’s okay, Marisa, these people will take good care of you. I’ll see you in a few hours at the hospital. You’re safe now, it’s over.” Kirsten turned to the senior medic. “She has an aunt whom the mother wishes to take custody. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have a name and address.”

  The girl’s fingers slipped through Kirsten’s as the medics left, pushing the floating stretcher. Marisa stared until solid wall came between them. Kirsten fell back into the chair with a heavy sigh and a pang of sadness.

  Dorian settled on the seat next to her, hand on hers. “They’re not figurines, you can’t collect them all.”

  “Yeah, I know, besides she has family. Thanks for the assist back there. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “It’s nice to get to use my tactical training once in a while.”

  Kirsten leaned her head back and closed her eyes, tuning out the army of flashing lights that inundated the area from more arriving patrol units. She settled into the soft embrace of the plush chair and allowed herself to relax for the first time in a week.

  “Now comes your favorite part.” Dorian grinned. “You have hours of reports and meetings explaining everything in detail to Eze and then on up the food chain.”

  Marisa’s survival filled her with such peace she did not care one whit about the red tape. It would have been better to save Lucian, but she found it difficult to pity him too much. The close call made her want to go squeeze the breath out of Evan.

  “I don’t think I’ll hate it as much this time. In fact I could really go for a few days full of paperwork and interviews, and not chasing ghosts.”

  “What about a hot bath?”

  She laughed. “Now you’re talking dirty.”

  reaks echoed through the old house as it protested the strong wind outside. With the passing of her fingertips, various holographic photos sprouted up from the small devices arranged on the shelf. Kirsten stared through the shimmering collage of Albert Motte’s childhood, wondering how such an innocent boy could have become the monster she had just faced. The sight of him at various ages made her ponder Evan’s potential future had she not stumbled across him by chance.

  The smiling faces of Albert’s parents filled her with even more dread; even the best of circumstances offered no guarantee. No doubt dwelled in her mind he deserved his fate, though she had not expected the Harbinger to delay its task on her request.

  What does that mean?

  She lifted the amulet over her head and glanced at the distorted reflection staring back at her, squished narrow and vertical by the rounded surface. Kirsten carried it to the cherub-encrusted urn and reunited the ashes. Three taps of the canister upon the lip of the porcelain knocked loose some straggling particles, and she sealed it. After sighing an apology at the ash, she turned to leave, but stopped at the sight of Henry a few feet behind her.

  His voice broke the stillness at the same time the faint scent of his presence surrounded her. “Thank you for returning him.”

  Kirsten forced a weak smile, unable to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

  Henry turned away, gliding to where the picture holograms sat dark upon the shelf. “He was a good boy, quiet, never made any trouble for anyone.”

  Kirsten just watched him, unsure of what to say.

  “I suppose if my transition was as traumatic as his, I might have changed, too.”

  “He accepted his―”

  “Sins?” Henry suggested.

  “I wasn’t going to say that, but I suppose it’s a good enough word. I’ve never seen a tainted spirit go with a Harbinger willingly before. I can’t honestly say what will happen, but I suppose there is a chance he may find redemption.”

  “Well, I guess it’s better than oblivion.” Henry offered a doubting smile. “I should be thankful at least you didn’t destroy him.”

  Kirsten raised her eyes. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is keeping you here now that Albert has left this world?”

  Henry smiled, easing himself into his old tattered chair as he drew a breath like a grandfather about to go into a long story. “I woke up in the middle of the night, only I didn’t really wake up. I’d died in my sleep, still don’t know from what. My first clue that something wasn’t as it should be was when I heard Bridget’s voice.”

  “Your wife?”

  Henry nodded. “Yes. At first, I thought I was just having an awful dream, you see. I had managed to enjoy several years of peace and quiet; now she was back.”

  Kirsten laughed despite a shocked face. “That’s awful!”

  He flashed an imp’s grin. “Bah, it’s how we were. People who didn’t know us thought we hated each other, but we both got a kick out of it. I stayed here because I heard the in-laws behind her. The whole damn family was standing on the other side of this silver door. To hell with that, I’d rather keep an eye on Albert.”

  “Albert is…”

  He waved a dismissive swipe. “I know. Ya don’t spend fifty years avoiding family gatherings to up and change your mind on account of a little old thing like death.”

  “You have to at least miss your wife?”

  He hemmed and hawed like a stubborn old codger. Kirsten wondered if her dad would have been this cute as an old man had he lived to that age. She spent a few hours chatting idly with him until his face fell serious once more.

  “Young lady, will you do me one last favor?”

  Her eyes darted around as she filled her cheeks with air and then let it out. “If it’s within my power to do, I suppose it would be the least I could do.”

  “That annoying hyperactive man in the fancy car is coming here again tomorrow. He has some suckers with more money than sense who want to buy this place. He keeps weird hours; I think real estate is just his side job or something. Anyway, he gets on my nerves and I got half a mind to fill his pants with phantom fleas,” he grumbled. “Look, I’m not going to delude myself and think this house will be mine for eternity. The dead can’t own property, so it seems. Before they invade, would you please take Albert’s ashes and spread them out over the beach in San Diego? It’s just a little bit southwest from here.”

  “You mean Sector 5? You’re not that old.” Kirsten fl
ashed a playful smile. “It wasn’t called that during any time you drew breath.”

  His dry laugh filled the entire house. “We used to take Albert there as a boy. He loved running around in the wet sand as the waves lapped in. Please, before they destroy the last of my memories, do this for me?”

  “Of course. Is there any family you want to claim the other stuff?”

  “No.” He tapped his hand on the arm of the chair. “It was up to Albert to keep us going, but he was more interested in robots than girls.”

  Kirsten took the urn in hand and walked over to the row of picture bars, staring at the little three inch strips of technology. No one alive cared anymore about the memories they contained. A lump rose in Kirsten’s throat as she realized she found herself in the same position―the last of her family.

  Henry’s voice washed over her shoulder from behind. “There is a brown house there now, that’s where Albert used to play.”

  With a nod, Kirsten turned to reply, but he had gone. She carried the urn to her car and sat with it in her lap for several minutes, lost in a grey melancholy.

  Somewhere in the distance, Henry’s voice called out, getting quieter with each word. “Alright, alright you old bat, I’m a comin… I’m a comin…”

  A flash of silvery white light shimmered out of every window of the old house, making her smile in spite of her tears.

  She found the spot Henry had mentioned without much difficulty. The beach stretched out in the shadow of the mile-square plates that hung high in the air over the sand. Fifty or more meters of space between it and the true ground kept the sand in the cool absence of direct sunlight for most of the day. A number of houses faced the ocean, resting under uncountable tons of plastisteel.

  Why would anyone pay so much for those tiny old houses?

  Kirsten set the patrol craft down on the beach a few feet away from where the water darkened the sand. With urn in hand, she walked until a foam-crested ripple kissed her boots.

  The wind picked up and she squinted to keep her eyes open. The scent of the sea swept over her face, salty and cold. In defiance of the encroaching wall of technology, this beach still had an air of placidity. Kirsten closed her eyes, losing her sense of time and space in the rolling sound of the waves and the gentle caress of the breeze.