by Kirk Dougal
“Sounds like I better put some oil on that.” Keisler smiled as he pulled the bookshelf towards him, revealing an open doorway behind it. “I wouldn’t want Mrs. Wills to hear it. That nosy, old bitty will want to know what I’m hiding and she’ll tell everyone in San Jose if she finds out.”
The woman next door to Keisler was more than willing to pass on the least bit of gossip she heard and it didn’t matter to her if it was true or not. Tar tried to avoid her as much as possible.
“I found what you wanted,” he said.
Keisler’s eyes flew wide and he clapped his hands like a happy child.
“I can’t believe it! Tar, you are a miracle!” The man walked to a table and cleared space for Tar’s backpack. “Does it work?” He laughed and slapped himself on the forehead. “Of course it works! You found it. Do you know what’s on it?”
“No, I didn’t have any way of banging on it where I grepped it,” Tar said as he reached into the pack and brought out a black, plastic box with an outlet cord. “There weren’t any connecting wires lying around in the shop. Do you still have the other ones I grepped a few months ago?”
“Ah, let me see…” Keisler went to a stack of boxes and rummaged through the contents. “Hmm, they were, ah! Here they are!” He brought back three wires that were connected so that three plug-ins were on each end.
Together they fit the wires to the box, and then to the back of an old television set in the corner of the room. Keisler hooked the box up to the closest outlet.
“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.”
Keisler turned on the television and the box. A series of numbers flashed across the front of the box but, after a full minute of waiting, nothing appeared on the television screen except for black lines.
“Damn!” said Keisler. “It’s not coming through. Can you do anything with it, Tar?”
Tar frowned and grabbed the box with both hands. He closed his eyes and let his mind flow through the tingling in his palms. A minute later he let go and sat down in a chair.
“It should work, Mr. Keisler. Maybe everything on it is 404. Or maybe there was never anything saved in it, maybe it took all its pictures from the air.”
“You’re probably right.” Keisler sat down on the end of the small sofa and looked like he was going to cry. “I didn’t realize how much I wanted you to find one that worked. You know, just a reminder of how it used to be.”
“I’m sorry.”
Keisler looked up.
“It’s not your fault, Tar. I had trouble getting these things to work even before The Crash.” He laughed. “One time I called a repairman and found out I just had it on the wrong…” His voice trailed away.
“The wrong what, Mr. Keisler?”
“The wrong channel, boy!” The man leaped up and grabbed a much smaller box from the top of the television set. He began pressing buttons on its face.
“Channel, what channel? Three? No, four!”
Suddenly a new picture popped up on the screen. Now a bunch of words could be seen.
“Aha! It works! Oh my god, Tar! It works.” Keisler plopped down on the floor and sat cross-legged only about three feet from the television. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.” He read down through the list, occasionally reaching over and pressing buttons on the front of the box that Tar had brought to make the words move up and down on the screen.
“The memory on this DVR must be full. Almost 500 hours of shows are on here. Here are some talk shows, hmm, some news broadcasts. Wonder what they thought was important enough on the news to keep? Ah, a bunch of movies—oops, there’s one you’re not quite old enough to watch.” The man smiled, nodding his head and winking at Tar before looking back at the screen. “Looks like whoever had this before was a science fiction fan. There’s a bunch of shows from the Finding Home series. It was about a spaceship that had to search for a new planet for people to live on after the Earth was destroyed. Oh, my! It can’t be!” Keisler whirled around. “This has every episode of Firefly! I loved that show when I was your age. Well, maybe a little younger than you. Too bad it was only on for a short time. Just a year or so.”
He stopped talking as the lights in the room dimmed, then went back to full strength.
“They’re getting ready to turn down the power,” said Tar. “I’d better get.”
“Wait, lad, I haven’t paid you yet.” Keisler stood up and trotted out of the room. He returned a few seconds later with a handful of bills.
Tar stared at them for a moment before he looked up.
“Mr. Keisler, this is more than we talked about.”
“I know, I know, but this DVR has more shows saved on it than I could have ever dreamed about.” Keisler folded his arms across his chest. “Plus I’ll bet you didn’t find this in our neighborhood.”
Tar shook his head.
“That means you took some risks to get this for me. The least I can do is pay a little more.” He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But I don’t want you to make that a habit. If the Black Shirts found you because you were looking for something for me…it’s not worth it. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will, Mr. Keisler.”
The man smiled. “If you’ve got time tomorrow after supper, come up and we’ll watch some shows together. I’d tell you to bring Jahn but I know he won’t come.” He playfully pushed Tar. “Now get out of here and go back to your bed before you have to walk downstairs in the dark.”
Chapter 3
Tar smiled as he walked down the block. It had been a good day so far. The burned-out wire in Mrs. Gillis’ stove had been easy to replace and he had finished two more small jobs around the building before he grabbed his backpack and one of the two tablet machines he had fixed yesterday and headed for the school. The screen was ready to light up as soon as he sold it to Toby. He was Tar’s best friend, one of the few he had close to his own age. Toby had been talking about wanting a tablet for at least a year. Tar would still charge him for it of course, a little bit anyway, but his profit had come from Mr. Keisler and more would come later after he delivered the second machine for Mr. Lionel’s daughter.
A few women shook their head at Tar as he walked down the sidewalk, probably disapproving of his not being in class. But nearly every shop owner waved to him through windows or came to the door to greet him. Although he had dealt with nearly all of them at one time or another no one signaled for him to stop and talk or barter today.
He turned the corner toward the school, a massive, low-lying structure that took up more than three blocks. It was actually four buildings linked together by long hallways crisscrossed in a pattern like a spider’s web.
As impressive as the size of the school was there was a sadness to it, as well. Many of the hallways echoed hollowly, doors shut against dark classrooms. The school had a third as many students as it could hold and still no one could really call the people leading the classes actual teachers. All the real ones were gone, lost in The Crash.
Tar looked with a hint of jealousy at the small children climbing on the playground equipment. Uncle Jahn had taught him to read and to write. He could add and subtract and even do some algebra, although what he would ever use that for he still didn’t know. Mr. Keisler had helped out by lending several history books that told stories about the presidents in the past and explorers searching for new worlds. Tar could remember a time when he wanted to be an astronaut like that Armstrong guy who walked on the moon.
But most of all he loved fixing things, especially apps. He had never been able to explain to Jahn what it was like to feel the power going through his hands, to see the pathways of light and dark and make it all connect together. At that moment, when a brick whistled or beeped and came back to life, that was when he felt like more than adware, felt like he had a purpose no matter what he told his uncle.
Despite all that, what he really wanted was to be able to do things with people his own age. He dreamed abou
t someone to tell stories with, to laugh with when they did something stupid. He wanted what had been taken away from him by The Crash.
Tar walked past the school and turned down the side street toward the far side. This was where the older kids had class and it was where Toby met him during free period. Tar sat on the concrete wall on the edge of the yard and waited.
Once, when he was younger, his uncle had found out he had been to the school and whispered a warning into his Tar’s ear, which he had found scarier than if Jahn had yelled at him. “Don’t ever go there,” he’d said, and told him the other kids or teachers would turn him in to the Black Shirts if they found out what he was. When Jahn accepted he could not keep Tar away from the school, short of tying him up in the apartment each day when he left for work, his uncle had told him to keep his hands in his pockets and not touch anything, especially something that needed fixed.
Tar saw some students leaving the building. He retrieved the tablet from his backpack and placed it at the base of the wall, then he moved over about three feet and sat down. Toby would run over as soon as he saw him, but just in case a nosy teacher came by first he didn’t want anything in his backpack out of the ordinary. There was always a possibility someone else might see the tablet and claim it. If so, he would not stop them. It was safer to just let the app go than get caught with it.
Toby sprinted out of the school, leaping off the steps and landing on the sidewalk without breaking stride. His long blonde hair flew from side to side as he looked back at the boy following him. Tar recognized the trailer, a boy everyone called Shovel. Toby had told him one time that only his mother called him Clarence. Anyone else ended up with a broken nose or a black eye. Shovel stood a foot taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier than Tar so there was no way he would ever call him by his real name.
“Hey, Tar!”
“How ya doin’, Toby?”
“Chilly. You remember Shovel, don’t ya?”
The two boys nodded to each other, Tar craning his head back to look up at Shovel’s face.
“You’re the lucky one, aren’t you?”
Tar pulled his eyebrows together and tilted his head to one side.
“What?”
“You know, lucky. You’re lucky because you don’t have to sit inside that school every day.”
“I guess so,” said Tar.
“Hey! What’s this?” Toby could act surprised better than anyone. It was also his way of protecting his friend in case someone else was listening.
“Oh, chilly!” said Shovel. His voice dropped down to what passed for a whisper for him. “Is it app or is it brick?”
Toby pushed the button on the corner and a few seconds later tones rang out from the machine as it blinked to life.
“It’s app.” Toby gave Tar a smile. “You don’t know how much this is gonna help me. My grades haven’t been too good.”
“It’s too bad that the air is dead,” said Shovel, his eyes never leaving the machine. “If the air was still alive we could jack in and bam! Automagically you know all the answers, just like that.”
“You know we couldn’t have jacked in,” said Toby. “Nobody under the age of eighteen. Dad said those were the rules.”
“Like we haven’t got around the rules before.” Shovel laughed and Toby joined him.
“Yeah, you gotta wonder what it was like,” Toby agreed after a few seconds. “Think of a question, any question, and the answer is right there for you. No grepping around.”
Tar had stayed quiet while the other two talked, dreaming about what life had been like before The Crash.
“Yeah, it would’ve been great,” he said softly, “Right up until you went hard boot.”
“Oh, wow. Or you went zom,” agreed Shovel, never noticing the look on Tar’s face. “That would’ve been worse. Your mind goes 404 and all you can do is walk around, crapping your pants and hoping somebody remembers to feed you.”
“Shovel,” Toby said. “That’s enough.” He looked at his friend. “We’re sorry, Tar.”
“It’s okay.” He nodded toward the tablet. “Is there anything…?”
“Shhh!” interrupted Toby. “Troll alert.”
Two boys and a girl walked over. The two boys had made Tar feel uncomfortable from the first time he met them years earlier. They were just so much…more. They stood a little straighter, their smiles were a little brighter, they were a little smarter—they were just a little better than the other students.
At least that’s what they thought.
Tar did not recognize the girl but that did not surprise him. It never seemed to be the same one whenever he saw the guys. Whoever she was, though, she was beautiful like all the rest.
“Hello, Toby, Cl…Shovel,” said the leader. “I see your little friend has come around to play.”
“No, he’s not playing,” said the other boy. “He’s here for some learnin'.”
They laughed at their own joke.
“What do you want, Devin?” asked Toby.
“Why, we don’t want anything. Do we, Rich?”
“No, Devin. We’re just making conversation.” The two of them were smiling but there was no humor in their eyes.
“What’s that?” asked the girl. She pointed toward the tablet. Toby had only managed to half cover with his leg.
“I don’t know, Angie,” said Devin. “But it can’t be one of those pre-Crash handheld machines. There’s no way Toby could afford one of those. My dad says even he can’t afford to get one.”
Toby laughed, but to Tar it sounded forced.
“It’s just a brick,” he said. “We’re going to play a trick on Mrs. Isaacs later.”
Devin and Rich looked at each other and smiled again.
“We like tricks,” said Rich. “Maybe we can help. Let me see it.”
Toby’s smile faltered but he never had a chance to answer.
“No.”
Everyone turned to look at Shovel.
“A look won’t hurt anyone.” Devin took a step forward. “Just a peek.”
“I said no.” Shovel stood up and the other boy stopped moving. His voice never rose above its normal tone but the words were cold and hard. It reminded Tar of the gang leader’s voice the day before when he had grabbed the backpack from his shoulder. The banger’s voice had been quiet, too, but also promised more than was said.
“Okay, okay.” Devin held his hands up before putting Angie’s hand back on his arm. “No need to go all aggro on anybody.” They started to turn away, then Devin stopped and looked at Tar.
“It’s funny how things like that machine turn up whenever you’re around. Always something. And they always seem to work.”
They walked away and, after a few strides, the boys were laughing while the girl hid her giggles behind her hand.
“Those guys are such trolls,” said Toby. “They just came over here to flame on you, Tar.”
A bell rang. Tar noticed Toby take his hand from his pocket and let it trail over the back edge of the wall, then he tucked the machine under his arm.
“We better get back inside, Shovel. Thanks, Tar. Be careful getting home.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you guys.”
Shovel nodded as he turned and followed Toby into the building.
Tar stayed on the low concrete wall, kicking his feet and waiting until most of the students were headed back to class before he leaned back and glanced over the ledge. He could see the little metal tube that Toby had dropped on the sidewalk on the other side. He was paying so much attention to it, he jumped when he heard the voice so close to him.
“Hey! Catch!”
Tar turned just in time to see something flying at his face. He reacted without thinking, grabbing the little object out of the air.
His palm tingled and a light blinked on the front of the little machine. A tiny screen flickered to life and a few notes of music blared out into the school yard. Just as
fast Tar stopped the light in his thoughts and the machine went quiet again.
“I’ve never heard that play any music before, have you, Rich?” Devin stared straight at Tar. He was not smiling anymore. He stepped up and yanked the small device from Tar’s hand.
“No, never,” Rich said. “It was brick.”
“Hmm, like I said, things just turn up around you and suddenly work again.” Devin snorted, a smug smile turning up one side of his mouth. “Come on, Rich.”
They turned and walked toward the school. Tar watched them until he was sure they were gone, then he leaned over the wall, picked up Toby’s money, and took off sprinting down the street.
Chapter 4
“Uncle Jahn, what was it like?”
“What was what like?”
“You know, before The Crash.” Tar lay his spoon down and leaned on his elbows. “Tell me a blog about it.”
The old man looked up from his bowl and glanced around. They were both waiting to eat, letting hard, crusty rolls soak in their soup. Sometimes it was the only way to bite through the bread. Thanks to Tar’s work on Mrs. Gillis’ stove, however, they had meat mixed in the broth with the vegetables.
“You haven’t asked about that for a long time,” Jahn answered once he saw they were alone in their corner of the common area. “Why do you want to know now?”
Tar shrugged his shoulders and took a bite of the still-tough roll.
“I don’t know,” he said around the bread. “I’ve just been thinking about what it was like to live back then, when the air was alive.” He lowered his voice. “When Mom and Dad were alive.”
The boy looked up and saw Jahn staring at him. After a few seconds his uncle nodded and looked down at his soup.
“You’re fifteen. I suppose if I was your age I’d want to know, too.” He slurped up a spoonful of broth and chewed on a piece of meat. “The air was never really alive no matter what you kids think today. Although it would be hard to tell because it was everywhere, and it was smart. When I was a kid and still trying figure out how to skip out of school people could go onto computers and look up stuff and talk to each other.”
