Creation

by Greg Chase

  Just by showing up, Sam knew he’d created conflict. Of course, the penthouse and office had been too grand to just sit empty, waiting for him to come back from the dead. He felt stupid not to have seen that. Everything they did, every courtesy Rendition extended, every dollar they spent, would have ramifications for other people. We’re not on Chariklo anymore.

  “What’s this about me taking your offices?” Sam asked, directing the question to both high-powered men.

  Lud launched into his explanation before Jacques had a chance. “It’s not a problem. We have plenty of office space in this building. Your position comes with certain privileges, these two floors being only one. I’m sure Sophie mentioned there were some irritated executives when she cleared her schedule for you. It’s just part of your life. And Jacques knows it.”

  Damn, I’d forgotten about that. There must be some powerful, pissed-off people in the wake of my return. Sam did his best to keep from asking mental questions that the Tobes would feel compelled to answer. But the recriminations weren’t ideas he could afford to ignore.

  “Only while you’re here on Earth. Once you go home, I’ll move back here, and Lud will move back upstairs, over me. This is temporary.” Jacques’s eyes narrowed to slits as he inspected each item of furniture.

  I happen to prefer the less overpowering look, Sam thought.

  We thought you might. Mr. Saint Clare’s office reminded us of a holy father’s office from the Spanish inquisition: beautiful and ornate but with an aura of terror, Sam received in reply.

  Jess pressed her body next to Sam’s. “I’d consider it a favor if you’d joined us for our discussion, Mr. Saint Clare. We need to understand the Tobes better, but we need the human side of the equation as well.”

  The aquiline chin dropped only slightly. “I’m a busy man, Mrs. Adamson. But I suppose defending humanity might be a better use of my time today.”

  “Thank you.” Jess brushed the dirt from her gardening outfit. “With so many high-powered executives in the room, I was about to ask Joshua for the Tobes’ take on money. Not our money—I don’t care about that. But about how the economy operates in general.”

  The laugh of derision from Jacques lasted for only one syllable. “You think your money is separate from everyone else’s? What happens to people’s lives is directly influenced by how the Tobes manipulate what you own.”

  Funny how topics follow thoughts. Especially thoughts Sam didn’t want to focus on. Even if they hadn’t come to Earth, their wealth carried consequences. And in the hands of beings who considered him their god, those actions wouldn’t be minor. No one used the power of god to do small things.

  Sam turned to Lud. “I don’t understand. I thought our wealth was just in stocks,” he said in a desperate gambit that he wouldn’t be blamed for all of Earth’s problems. I’m just a stockholder, not the real power.

  “To say it’s complicated would be an understatement.” Lud turned to Joshua. “You want to have a go at explaining the situation?”

  But before Joshua could launch into what Sam was sure would be a theoretical hypothesis on wealth distribution, Jacques cut in. “Why don’t we take a little tour of Jersey City, let you see firsthand what that money is up to? You’ve seen Broadway and Times Square. I think it might be time for a reality check on how most people live.”

  “Give us a minute to get changed, and we’ll meet you at the shuttle.” Jess grabbed Sam by the hand and pulled him to the elevator before anyone could voice an objection.

  The corporate shuttle easily accommodated the four human passengers and three Tobes—Ed had insisted on coming along. Jacques took the controls, adding to Ed’s fidgeting as he materialized in the copilot’s seat. The 139-story building had only the one landing pad—and only one shuttle. And that shuttle magically had nothing better to do today than take Sam and his party on a little joy ride? Not likely. Somewhere, someone would once again be swearing under their breath for the inconvenience the founder of Rendition’s visit had caused.

  There must be other vehicles somewhere. But none would be as grand, or as convenient, as this one.

  The shuttle flew low over the water canals between the high-rise buildings. But the lovely view from above that Sam and Jess had shared the night before was more ominous closer to street level. Buildings of architectural beauty sat atop lower floors of reinforced concrete bunkers, all eerily the same.

  Lud yelled over the noise of the shuttle’s jets. “It was part of New York’s redevelopment and hydrological abatement plan. Most of these skyscrapers were rebuilt from the inside out to deal with the hurricanes and street flooding. They had to accept the lower five floors being sealed watertight. Below all those artificial rivers are glassed-in walkways. Combined with the skyways, riverboats, and shuttles, getting around is easier than it’s ever been.”

  Jacques sneered at Lud. “In Manhattan, sure. Anyone with the money to live here has it easy.”

  As the shuttle passed between the last two high-rises to join the traffic crossing the Hudson River, Sam got his first glimpse of Jacques’s disdain. Buildings on the New York side, big, shiny, and reinforced, looked to have pummeled their New Jersey brethren.

  Jacques slowed the shuttle, taking it into a ninety-degree turn to follow the river. Sam leaned over Jess to watch the dilapidated structures that barely stood at attention for their review. Waves from the ships that plied the river washed through the lower floors and didn’t stop for blocks of what used to be known as inland. Only every third building had windows, the rest having been blown out by the passing hurricanes. Abandoned would have been a generous term. But the fires that burned on the various floors spoke of tenants still attempting to find shelter in the wrecks of concrete and steel.

  Sam focused hard on one floor to make out the battered, homeless souls. Without the support of those who cared about me when I was lost, I’d be right there with you. Support I foolishly took for granted. Maybe there was something he could do. Gods, at least the mythical ones he’d heard of in his youth, were supposed to have power.

  The shuttle banked into an opening between two crumbling structures. A large complex of buildings stood a block away, waves splashing up along the saturated floors. But the upper stories had windows and external reinforced support, ugly metal bars that did nothing for the architectural beauty but kept the building upright.

  “Ninety-nine Hudson Street. It used to be one of the gems of New Jersey before the waters took it,” Jacques yelled back from the controls.

  Ed leaned over from his copilot’s seat. “I’m not comfortable using this place as an example. There are other buildings that would be safer.”

  Sam wrapped his arm around Jess’s waist. He knew the roughness of inner cities. He’d avoided them, knowing his own street smarts would only keep him from the most obvious of dangers. But such distrust of humanity wouldn’t be a part of her nature.

  “Nonsense, Sam owns this building. Who’d be safer in a structure than the landlord?” Jacques banked the shuttle up to land on the empty roof.

  “I own it?” Sam asked, confused. Chunks of concrete were missing from the building’s exterior. The steel structure that kept it upright reminded him of a cage dropped over a frightened animal. Why on Earth would you think this is something I’d want?

  As the engines shut down, Joshua turned to Jacques. “You could at least give us a chance to explain the history of the situation before you subject Sam and Jess to the results.”

  “Fair enough. Even I’d like to hear your take on these buildings,” Jacques said.

  “New York had a plan,” Joshua began. “It wasn’t popular with those who didn’t think climate change was a problem. It was wildly expensive. And it took years to complete, and every one of those years the city struggled to keep it on track. But there was money in the city, lots of it. And the nation didn’t want to lose one of its signature metropolises.”

  Jacques tapped on the controls. “If you’re going to go back that far, th
is explanation is going to take all day. New York had money. New Jersey didn’t. Therefore, Jersey City wasn’t prepared for the flooding. Get on with it.”

  “We couldn’t let these people die.” A vein in Lud’s temple pulsed as he talked. “We were trying to help. With every passing hurricane, more structures collapsed with people in them. The Tobes convinced us we should buy up some buildings and reinforce them so the tenants wouldn’t get swept out to sea. What did you expect Rendition to do—just leave these buildings to the slumlords? Do you really believe anyone would be better off if we’d kept out of it?”

  Jacques turned to Lud. “We would’ve been better off. You and your Tobes bought the proverbial sinking ship out here. Even leaving the amount of money out of the equation for a minute, these people hate us, hate Rendition, and would burn us to the ground if they had the chance.”

  “That’s not true.” Ellie had remained quiet, but her eyes flashed with intensity. “We’ve done some good. These people chose not to leave when we gave them a chance. That’s not our fault.”

  “Let’s go meet some of those people. What do you say?” Jacques unbuckled his flight harness.

  Jess followed suit. “I want to see this situation for myself. You can all argue the theory behind it later.”

  Sam barely caught up with her as she scampered out of the parked shuttle. A building full of hostile tenants who, if they’d known the passengers’ true identities, would tar and feather Sam, and Jess as well, didn’t seem like a place to dive into headfirst. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. If Ed’s not comfortable with your safety, maybe it’d be better if you stayed up here.”

  The squint-eyed look she shot at him was all the answer he needed. He never stood a chance when she got something firmly in her head.

  In desperation, Sam turned to Ed, who’d never left Jess’s side. “How dangerous is this, really?”

  “You and Jess are less of a concern than Lud and Jacques,” Ed said. “There are Tobes in here, and they’ll make sure any human who might mean you harm is kept at bay. In spite of our loyalty to the people we know, you are considered God. It helps for situations like this, in which we’re trying to keep your identity secret. The same is not true for the CEO and president of the company that owns this building. Then there’s your attire. At least you two don’t look like you own more than everyone in this tenement combined. Even if the truth is very different, people tend to judge based on looks. Being dressed to impress is more likely to get you shot in Jersey City.”

  Peachy. Even if we’re not targets, we’re traveling with men who are. Maybe we could just push Jacques through each door first just to see if anyone wants to take a potshot at us. It wasn’t a very dignified thought. For a moment, Sam was glad it wasn’t something he’d said out loud. Then he remembered that privacy didn’t mean what it used to. Sorry, disregard that last thought. It wasn’t worthy of a god.

  The bashed-in metal door to the top floor squeaked open on abused hinges. Someone had used a battering ram on the door, and not long ago, based on the fresh look of the scrapes. Sounds of life greeted Sam as he followed Ed into the maze of dwellings: children crying, yells of anger, and the all-too-frequent pounding of an object against some part of the structure.

  The walls smelled of fresh paint over soot. The paint hadn’t stayed fresh looking. Brightly colored graffiti covered seventy percent of every surface. As they passed doors—some open to the life within, some closed to prying eyes—faces of Tobes materialized in the walls. Each shook its head in answer to Ed’s questioning look.

  Joshua and Ellie flanked Sam as Jess stayed close to his back. The two businessmen would be left to their own protection.

  A familiar queasiness gripped Sam’s stomach. Run. Just grab Jess and run. But she wouldn’t hear of it. And making a scene in front of people who’d be more inclined to jump in than break up a fight would only hasten the conflict he hoped to avoid.

  “As a history lesson, we’ll be moving back in time as we go downstairs. This is the twenty-first floor and our most recent attempt at helping,” Joshua said.

  “And how’d that work out for you?” The self-righteous tone of Jacques’s voice got on Sam’s nerves.

  “Riots. But we were only taking responsibility and giving them what they wanted,” Joshua said.

  “Taking responsibility for their lives and giving them what you thought they wanted,” Jacques countered.

  Jess’s voice cut through the noise. “Just tell me what happened. I can do without the commentary.”

  Ellie pointed at a bare section of freshly painted wall. “At our request, the tenants formed an association. They voted. Remodeling the building was their number-one desire. They didn’t want to do it themselves, didn’t want us to police anything. They just wanted better living conditions. And I still say if we could have done the whole building all at once, it might have worked.”

  “You can’t instantly redo an entire structure with people still living in it,” Jacques argued. “People aren’t electronic impulses that can exist just anywhere. We need protection from the elements. And fixing up living spaces takes time. And a lot of money.”

  Jess raised her hand for quiet. “So you fixed up this floor. Then what happened?”

  “We chose the most responsible tenants to move up here,” Joshua said. “The ones who’d taken care of their apartments and shown respect for the building. Then we tried to train them to help work on the next floor down. Vocational education so they could find jobs in construction.”

  It made sense. Sam had never experienced this level of despair, but he’d lived in his fair share of rundown buildings. If someone had offered him the opportunity to make something of himself, he’d like to believe he’d have jumped at the chance.

  No one spoke for an uncomfortable length of time.

  Sam turned to Ellie. “You’re the one who expresses feelings the most. You might as well just let us have it.”

  “A societal caste system developed. Those on this top floor were seen as being privileged while those who had been here longer, or suffered the worst, thought they were more deserving of these luxuries and opportunities. Two major groups, gangs really, developed. They were called the twenty-firsts and the sixes, named for the uppermost and lowest occupied floors. The conflict was called the floor wars, though riot would be more accurate.” Ellie kept her head down as she spoke.

  “And this all took place in this one building?” Jess asked.

  Joshua formed a box with his hands to represent the complex. “It was a self-contained conflict that couldn’t be put out from an external force. The only way in was via the roof or water level. Not that it mattered. The police were the one group hated by both sides. So it wasn’t like the twenty-firsts were willing to accept assistance even if it was in their best interests. To do so would alienate them from the rest of Jersey City.”

  “How long did this last? And what finally ended it?” Jess asked.

  “It ended a couple months ago,” Lud said. “The two sides realized they weren’t the enemy—we were. Something like forty people lost their lives, and we still don’t know the extent of the property damages, all in the space of three weeks.”

  Sam hoped this hadn’t been the height of the Tobes’ attempt at helping humanity. How am I supposed to help you? All he got was silence. That wasn’t a rhetorical question. You must have some idea for what I can do.

  Give us guidance. We don’t know what we’re doing.

  A passage about the blind leading the blind flashed in Sam’s brain, but he did his best not to focus on it for fear the Tobes might lose all hope.

  Jacques wiped his hand over a section of wall then inspected his dirty fingers. “We should have stayed out of it from the beginning.”

  “And done what with all Sam’s money? Invest it? There’s more than enough sunk into stocks already. Don’t we have an obligation to try and help the less fortunate?” Joshua expressed more emotion than Sam had expected.

  �
��It was a bad real-estate deal. You were just trying to shore up the market,” Jacques countered.

  “People are going to start losing vast amounts invested in the real-estate market. We’re not trying to help everyone, just the building owners who can’t afford to take the hit,” Joshua said.

  Jacques frowned. “So that’s why you wouldn’t buy my beachfront condos? You knew the megahurricanes were coming, and you did nothing. Did you think I could afford to lose some of my wealth?”

  “You could—you have to admit it. Those condos were never meant as anything other than a way to build your portfolio.” Lud winked at Jacques. “And you weren’t the only one to have their investment swept out to sea last winter.”

  “Still, it’s partially my company. You’d think the Tobes would look out for their owners first. If there’s enough to keep buying up these low-cost housing nightmares from investment funds, there ought to be enough to save us too.”

  Sam couldn’t help but think the man in the high-priced suit had little to complain about.

  “Those funds were pushed on people who’d been told their retirement would be protected,” Joshua explained. “We have access to every person’s net worth. We’re only trying to bail out those who’d find it hard to survive.”

  Sam thought about his parents. They would have been the prime demographic for those stockbrokers. Not that he wanted to know about their situation. They would have been told he’d died so many years ago on the adventure his father had condemned as foolish. Best to stay dead to that whole aspect of his life. He had enough responsibilities without becoming the rich, long-lost relative who could save family and friends from the lives they’d chosen. He felt sure they’d want to see him, to know what he’d become. But being the richest, most powerful man in the world was hardly his doing. He couldn’t face what they might say or expect. Sam wondered how many directions one man could be pulled without breaking.

  Jess threw up both hands this time. “I don’t care about those investors. Tell me more about the people in this building.”