Mike v2.0 (A Firesetter Short Story)

by J. Naomi Ay

  “No.”

  “But, he would. That’s all he ever did play.”

  “When did you play him?”

  “Ach, you don’t want to know. Trust me, kiddo. Some things are better left unexplained.”

  As Steve’s fingers moved across the board, setting the pieces in their rows, I noticed the king sounded heavier than the queen. The knight had a hollow sound, and the rook echoed slightly deep inside. The bishop slid almost silently, while each of the pawns made a tiny tap. I could clearly see them all in my mind’s eye, and by concentrating, I knew exactly where they were. Even after I moved them. Even after Steve moved his. Most amazing of all, I knew where they ought to go.

  “Check,” I proclaimed on my twelfth move, attacking with my queen, just as the ship’s engines began to hum again and in a normal tone. The clanging noise had ceased, and we were moving, the ship sailing as smoothly as a boat slicing through water.

  “Ach, you got me, Mikey,” Steve declared, his voice even more weak. “Do me a favor and play the game the same way when you’re king. Keep everyone around you off guard, and your eyes closed so you can hear their silent clues.”

  “Okay, Steve.”

  “My father used to tell me that, but of course, I never listened.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, it’s a long story, one I don’t want to go into right now. Listen, partner, the truth is, I’m going to be leaving you soon.”

  My heart lurched in my chest, as tears formed in my useless eyes. “Do you have to?”

  “Yeah. It looks like I overstayed my welcome. But, don’t you worry, little dude. I’ll make sure you’re fixed up first. Ach, Mikey. Just so you know, you’re my favorite grandson.”

  “I’m your only grandson, Steve.”

  “That makes it even better.” He wrapped his arm around my neck. He ruffled my hair with his knuckles, and then in a rare moment of tenderness, he kissed the top of my head. “You have hair just like my dad’s, black as night, but with a silvery sheen. He had the same curls, too. In fact, you take after him in a lot of ways. Let me tell you the secret to being a good king, kiddo,” he said, now holding my hands tightly in his. “You remember this, junior, and you’ll be the Great Emperor v2.0. Otherwise, I’ll be back to haunt your dreams. Give me your oath that you’ll do as I say.”

  “Yes, Steve,” I swore, waiting anxiously for the answer to be revealed.

  “Good. The secret is this, to be a good king, you must first be a good man. To be a good man, you must be a good friend.” With that bit of sage advice, he let go of my hands.

  “Are you going now?” I asked, as he pulled himself to his feet.

  “Afraid so. The boss is waiting, but don’t worry. At least, with him, forever isn’t really forever.”

  I listened as Mike’s soft footsteps climbed the ladder and joined us in the room.

  “Fix the kid first,” Steve ordered.

  “I’ve already done so,” he replied. “Son, open your eyes.”

  For a fraction of a second, in a blink of an eye, and in a flash of light, I opened my eyes to Steve smiling at me. Next to him was a boy of my size and age, with my face and black curly hair. For a moment, I thought he was me, both here and standing over there. That was until he opened his eyes and I saw the light.

  “Son? Mikey? Wake up now, son. Look Sara, he’s waking up.”

  “Sweetie?” It was my mom. “How do you feel, baby? Can you see me now?”

  I opened my eyes again to the hospital room, to my mother and father’s faces, to the bed I had never left. “Steve!”

  I learned a lot that day, the day my grandfather died, not the least of which was that I loved him more than I had ever thought. I also learned that oil could be refined in a coffee pot, and traveling to outer space wasn’t very much fun. Most of all, I learned that blindness was unrelated to one’s sight, and that sometimes, one’s vision is clearer in the darkness than in the light.

  Many times over the years, as I grew to become the man and king that I hoped would have made my grandfather proud, I recalled the lessons of that one odd night among the stars. Often, I would close my eyes and listen carefully to the unseen and unspoken clues of the world around me. I also grew famous for playing a wicked game of blind chess.

  As for the Pee Wee Baseball League, my mother insisted I quit the team, but I refused her Royal Command and returned to the diamond. With new insight and new desire, as well as incessant practice both day and night, I improved my batting skills. While in the outfield, I developed an uncanny ability to catch by closing my eyes and listening to the faint whisper of a ball displacing air.

  I enjoyed being part of a team and developed a new empathy for my fellow man, as I realized none of us were perfect, nor would we ever be. With that empathy came friends, some who remained throughout my life. Later as King, I was called good and kind. Though a far cry from being considered the Great Emperor v2.0, to me, goodness and kindness were more important virtues.

  As for the other Mike, my visitor that night, I believe I saw him often throughout my life. Sometimes, I’d feel his presence behind me, or I’d catch a glimpse of him in the mirror. Sometimes, I’d spy him out of the corner of my eye, only to disappear the moment I turned.

  Sometimes, if I was about to make a mistake, I’d feel his presence stay my hand, and sometimes, if I was hesitant, I’d feel him push me from behind.

  Although I never discovered conclusively who he was, I had a suspicion, especially after my mother’s death when I found myself in possession of a purse of old gold Imperial coins. Each one bore the likeness of my great-grandfather, the Great Emperor, a man who looked surprisingly like me, and a man who many believed was also Someone Else.

  ****

  A Preview of Firesetter, Book 1

  A Thread of Time

  Available at all of your favorite ebook retailers.

  Chapter 1

  Lance

  I joined the Allied SpaceForce for one reason and one reason alone, I was flat broke and I needed money. After hocking everything I owned at the local pawnshop, or selling it on Craigslist, I was down to forty-three dollars and thirty-seven cents, in addition to the ancient Euro my father had left me as an inheritance.

  “What the heck is this?” I had mumbled, holding the single coin in my palm, while at the same time, the lawyer was informing my brother, Hank that he was bequeathed everything else in my father's estate.

  Granted, Dad was no billionaire. His estate was pretty simple, a modest house in a not-so-great town, in the center of the continent, affectionately referred to as The Armpit. Still, it was worth something, and undoubtedly, more than this useless coin. I mean, a Euro? Europe hadn't existed for several centuries!

  “Ha!” Hank had laughed in his annoying nasally voice, gloating over his victory in this final round of the sibling game. Yep. Dad loved him best, and that was now proven without a doubt. I was the loser when it came to paternal affection.

  “Congratulations,” the lawyer said to Hank, but not to me.

  Hank nodded regally, savoring his win. Had the lawyer not been there, my brother would have left with a minimum of a bloody nose and a maximum of a five month stay in traction.

  “I'll just have you sign off on the deed.” The lawyer presented the documents to Hank as I rose from my seat, flipping my precious antique Euro coin between my fingers. “Good luck, Lance. Hank, let me take you out to lunch.” The lawyer scumbag barely glanced in my direction, as I let myself out.

  “Good riddance.”

  I didn’t really blame him. He knew this cow was dry. He'd milk no costly legal fees from me and therefore, I didn't merit even a handshake.

  Stepping out into the street, after leaving the dark and overly air conditioned building, I was momentarily blinded by the sudden burst of sunlight. I thought the crosswalk light was in my favor. I thought there were no vehicles on the street and the heat that was washing over me was merely the sun, while that roaring sound was a bus on the n
ext corner. I thought wrong on all four counts. The next thing I knew, I was bouncing off the hood of something, only to end up beneath its wheels. Fortunately, by this point, I wasn’t awake.

  Three days later, I was, and less than delighted to discover I was in traction, the sort that I had wished upon Hank. Karma could sure be a bitch.

  When my brother came to visit me in the hospital, sitting by my bedside and describing in great detail the renovations he was going to make to Dad's house, if I could have, I would have reached up and smacked him. Alternately, I would have yanked his tongue from his mouth, or removed his eyeballs from their sockets with my fingernails. As I couldn't lift a finger, and was far too drugged to even spit in his direction, I lay there prone, subjected to yet another round of fraternal gloating.

  Six months passed until my back was more or less healed and I was released from the hospital, a new, but not improved man. I was also totally broke, so much in debt that four lifetimes of delivering pizzas, my previous occupation, wouldn't yield enough to ever make me a free man.

  Briefly, I considered stepping into the street again and encouraging another vehicle to roll over me, this time finishing the job completely. That was the only way I could foresee escaping the hospital's payment plan, which as I departed, was detailed on an invoice that would follow me for the next forty years.

  Instead, I headed to a local pub where I spent the next day and night drowning my sorrows in beer, drinking up what little remained of my money. It was stupid, of course. I should have put it toward the hospital's first installment. Somehow, and at some point, I managed to stagger home to my flat, where fortunately, the landlord had taken pity upon me during my absence.

  Gloria didn't evict me, or toss my things in the street during my convalescence. This could have been entirely due to the fact that no one else was willing to rent that dive. It also could have been because she liked me. Poor Gloria was on the wrong side of forty, nearly twenty years my senior and throughout her life, had a habit of selecting the wrong kind of guy. This included me.

  I regretted what happened. I became a whore. While I scrambled to pay the hospital bill by selling my stuff and raising money in any way I could, I kept Gloria entertained in exchange for the rent.

  Every month, on the first, it went like this. Gloria would knock on my door, usually bright and early, undoubtedly, waking me from a sound and contented sleep that was much nicer than my reality. Groggily, I’d stumble from the sofa, swing the door wide open to admit her and feign surprise at her arrival during this ungodly hour.

  “The rent, Lance,” she'd say frostily, holding out a hand, the other knuckled into her side, a foot tapping out an impatient rhythm. “I can't let you go another month without paying.”

  “Rent,” I'd mutter sleepily, running a hand across my night's beard. “Oh. Gloria. Yeah, the thing is---”

  “What?”

  “I'm a little short again this month.” I’d pat my hands against my hips as if checking inside the nonexistent pockets of my marginally clean and slightly torn boxer shorts.

  “Mhm,” she'd mutter, her eyes drawn to my hands, where inevitably she'd find a prime example of morning wood. “Oh. Is that for me?”

  “It's all I've got right now,” I'd say, which was followed by the old couch being cleared of my ratty blanket and the even older sleeper mattress beneath extended to its full size.

  Then, I did what I did best, because at twenty-four, I was a loser at every other round in this game of life. Gloria left happy, and my lack of rent was forestalled for another month.

  Eventually, Gloria tired of this game, or maybe, she preferred to play it instead with the guy in the apartment across the hall. At any rate, she gave me an ultimatum. At the end of the month, pay up or get out.

  “You got anything else?” the pawnbroker asked, as I stared at the measly number written on my ticket.

  “Hey, that ring is worth more than that!” I insisted. “It was my mother's. She left it to me to give to my future wife.”

  “I'm doing you a favor then,” the guy replied. “You give a girl this piece of crap cubic zirconia and she's liable to throw it back at you and walk out of your wedding.”

  “It's not a fake.”

  “Listen to me, son. I've seen a lot of rings in my day, and that one's about as real as my tooth.” He proceeded to reach into his mouth and pull out a shiny, white incisor. “Look's nice, eh? Indestructible, too. Better than the real thing, but my wife doesn't wear it on her finger. So, you got anything else for me to look at?”

  I would have liked to offer him my fist, but I didn't. Since Gloria dumped me, this guy was about the only friend I had. Putting my hands in my pockets to restrain them, I pretended to consider the paltry offer on my mother's ring. I was going to take it. I had no choice. I was down to my last nickel, or rather, the forty-three dollars and thirty-seven cents which were already promised to the hospital.

  “Just this,” I said, finding that stupid Euro coin in my pocket. “Maybe this is a collector's item?”

  “Let me see.” The guy dropped his loop over his eye and turned the coin this way and that way. He murmured something, while trying to read it. “I don't know what in the hell this says. It's a piece of crap. Not worth a nickel.” He tossed it back, whereupon it rolled the distance of the counter, before falling flat.

  Heads. Some dude in a crown looked off across the horizon at the ancient toasters and television sets with orange price tags hanging from them.

  “It's an ancient Euro.”

  “No, it's not. What language does that look like to you?”

  “I don't know. Greek? Russian? Portuguese?”

  The pawnbroker shook his head and glanced at the door. Another customer had come in, or more likely, another victim of the decrepit economy came to hock whatever he had in order to eat. “Are you taking my offer on the ring, or no?”

  “I guess so,” I said, studying my not-Euro coin again. “You sure this isn't worth anything?”

  “Not to me.”

  “That's worth a fair amount in the old Empire,” the new customer interrupted. “Although, it'll cost you a heck of a lot more to travel the ten lightyears to get there.”

  “Where?”

  I turned to look at my neighbor, only to discover he was wearing a SpaceForce uniform and carrying an old iPad from the twenty-first century.

  “I found this in a rummage sale on Darius II. Is it worth anything, Pops?” He set it on the counter for the old man, and then, held out his hand to take a look at my coin. “Yep, this is an old Imperial dollar. It’s definitely worth something to collectors around the galaxy. It dates back to the reign of the Great Emperor. That’s who this guy is on the front. You wouldn’t want to sell it to me, would you?”

  “I will buy it first,” the pawnbroker interjected.

  “No way.” I snatched it back from the spandex-clad spaceman. “You can buy his iPad, Pops. You missed your chance with me.”

  Grabbing my mom's cubic zirconia wedding ring off the counter as well, I left the pawnshop with a new spring in my step. I was determined to take my coin to a place where its value would be appreciated. Worth something could mean several thousand and several thousand would easily pay off the hospital bill. This coin would give me a chance to restart my life debt-free. On the other hand, if I had to take the coin across the galaxy, why would I bother coming back?

  Unfortunately, the fare on a spaceplane to the nearest port where the coin could be exchanged, cost more than I would have gained selling the ring and the clothing off my back, as well as the old sofa, and the toaster in my flat. The only way to get myself from here to there was to get on a ship that didn't cost me anything.

  “The dude's spandex uniform wasn't all that ugly,” I told myself, walking into the SpaceForce recruiting office down the street. “And, I'd get three squares a day, a hot shower, and a clean bed without any aging landladies in it.” That didn’t sound a whole lot different than prison, but at that point, I didn
’t care.

  An hour later, I walked out, officially a recruit with a contract in hand, and an induction physical scheduled for the following day.