The Harmony Paradox

by Matthew S. Cox

  “I almost had him.” She grimaced and moved her severed hand, and stump, out of her field of view.

  “You have anyone in that ’99, lieutenant?” Captain Parrish nodded to the left.

  “No, Sir. I figured they’d hit that first… and they did.”

  “Ramon, bring the little ones back,” shouted Pedro. “Everyone, group up.”

  “Not bad job, lieutenant. Looks like most of your people survived. Several wounded, but nothing untreatable.”

  “Most?” Nina’s heart sank. “Who…?”

  “Ramon…” Veronica approached from the northeast, leading Rafael, Gabriella, Nicolás, the bandaged-up Adrianna, the five-year-old boy, and Mrs. Rojo with her two yowling cats. “He left me in charge of the kids. Said he wanted to get revenge for Javier.” She sniffled. “I don’t know where he is.”

  Gabriella looked up with a smile. “He’s in the mission. I made him hide instead of being stupid.” She offered a cheesy smile. “He’s going to be mad at me.”

  “That’s why you were out here,” muttered Nina.

  The girl nodded.

  María Isabel limped over and wrapped her arms around the girl, shuddering and sobbing. “You saved my ass.”

  “We can’t loiter here long.” Captain Parrish glanced off at the sky. “Watson, Hughes, set down north of the town.”

  The remaining two dropships circled around and came in to land about fifty meters away; their ramp doors and landing pads opened at the same time, fully extended by the time the ships touched down.

  Nicolás ran to Silvia, crying with relief.

  “Come on, lieutenant. Looks like you’re about ready to get out of here,” said Parrish.

  Nina’s grip clenched around her loose arm. Elizaveta’s waiting for me. “Yes, sir. Damn ready.”

  atya curled up at the right end of her new couch, which mostly resembled her old couch except for the blood and bullet holes. She had her bare feet tucked under a small pile of decorative pillows and her body wrapped in a knee-length lavender t-shirt. Steam wafted from a cereal bowl-sized mug of honey-lemon-chamomile she clutched in both hands to her face. Inhaling the wonderful aroma took a fraction of the edge off her worry.

  After a brief sip of the still-too-hot tea, she stared over the rim of the mug at the terminal on the coffee table. So far, an entire day of ‘I’ll check the jobs right after I finish (random task)’ had passed. Almost four in the afternoon on Tuesday, she’d run out of excuse-chores, and hadn’t touched the terminal since Saturday night.

  I’m only good for one thing, and I’m not going to find it there.

  The Division 9 warning left her afraid to call Alex even to say hello. They had to know what she’d done, but they let her slide. Perhaps it had been a ‘thank you’ for tripping over a spy. She sipped her tea again, warm, cozy, and comfortable.

  Eve muttered in the back of the apartment, talking to her video game. No surprise, she adored Colony Commando… it reminded her of being in her powered armor. That she’d called it ‘realistic enough to keep me from getting rusty’ worried her. No wonder everyone in this place has guns.

  Beeping came from the terminal. Its holo projector activated, displaying a black screen with the words ‹Incoming vidcall.›

  “What?” She blinked and lowered the mug.

  The terminal beeped again.

  Katya scooted forward, exposing her feet to the chilly air, and swiped her hand at the screen to answer.

  A man in his forties with grey-pewter hair in a buzz cut appeared on the screen. His high-collared black jacket looked like a blend of military uniform and middle-of-the-road suit. “Miss Wolf?”

  “Yes.” She cradled the tea in her lap.

  “Good.” He nodded. “I’m Anton Burdine with Sentinel Corporation. We recently received your resume in regards to a security analyst position with our company.”

  She blinked. “Umm. Yes.” Two weeks ago… about.

  Anton offered a slight bow with an apologetic smile. “Initially, your resume seemed a bit light on qualifications for the spot… however, it resurfaced and piqued my interest. My call is more or less a pre-interview interview. I have some questions for you… assuming you are still interested in the position.”

  “Yes.” She hurriedly set the tea on the table. “I’m sorry I’m not quite dressed for it.”

  “It’s no matter. I did call you unexpectedly. Would you prefer we schedule this for a later time?”

  She straightened her posture, trying to seem as composed and formal as possible while dressed like a twelve-year-old at a sleepover party. “If you don’t mind, I don’t.”

  “Very well. Can you elaborate a bit more on your experience with the security industry in general? Again, what you’ve got on your resume is a start, but normally we require a greater amount of experience for this role. The security analyst is responsible for going to client sites and evaluating them for their security needs, devising an operational plan, and once the client signs on, you’d be the point of contact to manage our presence there. SAs usually have between ten and forty sites to manage. Each site can have between two and hundreds of guards/staff depending on size.”

  Katya leaned a few inches closer to the terminal. “Mr. Burdine, is this vid considered confidential?”

  His eyebrows flared as he nodded. “Oh yes. Absolutely. It is no different from an employment interview in that regard.”

  “All right. I am a former ghost emplo―rather owned by the Office of Operational Intelligence of the Allied Corporate Council. I was ‘recruited’ at the age of ten, trained in infiltration, electronics, social engineering, surveillance, marksmanship, demolitions, and network operations until the age of eighteen. I’ve had nine years of fieldwork, mostly in Russia and Pakistan, with several months spent in Central America. About a year ago, while on assignment in London, I saw an opportunity to escape and defect to the UCF.”

  Anton stared at her mute for a full minute, blinking once. “No shit…”

  Her lips curled in a cat-that-got-the-canary smile. “I am quite serious. You’d be surprised how many Zosco 4200s are still out there with the multi-input channel vulnerability not patched. Link four camera inputs to the same logical designation, remove one, re-add it, and the system accepts root-level commands regardless of user rights. Can fake every input from that point.”

  Anton’s lower lip protruded as his eyebrows rose. “Impressive.”

  “When I said ‘recruited,’ I meant abducted. I am a legal UCF citizen. I doubt anyone here could detest the Corporates as much as I do.”

  “I believe you. Probably more than half the shitheads out there who don’t know how good they’ve got it here.”

  Katya grinned. “You’re former military, aren’t you?”

  “What gave it away, the hair?” He chuckled. “Look, Miss Wolf… I’d like to schedule you for an in-person interview. How does tomorrow around 11:00 a.m. sound?”

  Relief and pride washed over her. “I will be there.”

  He raised a hand in mock pause. “Oh, and please come in via the main entrance. This isn’t an evaluation of your ability to do penetration testing.”

  Katya nodded. “Understood.”

  “Great. Looking forward to meeting you in person.”

  She got no sense of anything other than professionalism from him, and smiled. “As am I.”

  The holo-panel collapsed to a point and faded out. Katya picked up her lukewarm tea and resumed her cozy position, enjoying it quite a bit more despite its tepidness. She could do far worse than working for Sentinel. Life wouldn’t be opulent, but she’d take the comfort without hesitation.

  Eve walked in, wearing a loose plum-colored half-shirt, black spandex shorts, and a pistol in a thigh holster. “Who were you talking to?”

  “What’s that?” Katya glanced at the weapon.

  “MCP18C. Basic model, 6mm standard-issue UCF military sidearm. Thirty-eight round capacity, maximum effective range 150 meters, sixty with iron sights.�
� Eve frowned. “It’s only a Class 2, but my dinky little arms won’t handle the recoil of anything much bigger.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Katya stared at her. “I meant why are you walking around with a gun?”

  “In case any more shit goes down.”

  Katya laughed. “You’re less creepy when you act like a child.”

  Eve shrugged, palms upturned. “Wouldn’t that be more creepy?”

  “I suppose.”

  The girl crossed her arms. “It’s bad enough I have to watch myself at school. I look like I’m eight. Kids this age know basic math and reading… not seven different ways to kill someone with a table fork.”

  “Well… did you go to school before?”

  Eve shook her head. “No. I’ve already told you, I popped out of the tank this size, and went straight to combat training. I mean, yeah they taught us English and some math and stuff.”

  Katya patted the seat next to her. “Give it some time. Maybe it’ll start feeling like a strange dream, and you can let yourself have a childhood. Stop overthinking everything and just enjoy yourself while you can.” She sighed. “I wish I could have my fourteen-year-old body back. If I even look at food now, my ass gets wider.”

  Eve grinned and crawled up beside her. “Will you stop? You’re a damn supermodel.”

  “Hah.”

  “I’m serious. I’d kill someone to have tits like yours.” Eve lifted her shirt. “I got nothin’.”

  “You’re eight.”

  Eve stuck out her tongue. “And you’re not fat. You’re not even close to fat. You’re not even heavy enough to be considered ‘ideal weight.’”

  “Pff.” Katya ruffled her hair. She hit the remote for the holo-bar and went to one of the kids’ channels, which showed a cartoon with talking rabbits.

  Eve smirked. “Really?”

  “Looks like a child”―Katya poked her in the side―”must be a child.”

  The girl raspberried her.

  Katya stuck out her tongue.

  “Yanno… I think this might actually work.” Eve cuddled up against her. “I’m glad you decided to let me stay with you.”

  “Me too, ‘kiddo.’” Katya put an arm around her.

  “So, who was on the vid before?”

  “Some guy.”

  “You’re dating?”

  Katya laughed. “No. I’ve got a job interview.”

  “Like a legit job?” Eve blinked. “Why?”

  “I figured we should give this whole ‘normal’ thing a try. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t constantly worry about getting killed or captured.”

  Eve held up a foot, examining purple nail polish that had started to flake. “You don’t think you’ll get bored?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for.” Katya pulled Eve snug. “A few good, long years of being bored. And you, little lady, are not allowed to kill anyone until you’re at least eighteen.”

  “I’m twenty,” muttered Eve.

  “Legally eighteen.” Katya tapped her on the nose. “I mean it. No gunfights.”

  Eve giggled. “Okay, Mom.”

  enny snapped awake in the middle of the night. An inexplicable sense of worry circled around his heart like a buzzard. He rolled his head to the left, relieved to find Kathy sound asleep at his side. For a few minutes, he stared at the ceiling, but between anxiety and the need to urinate, sleep refused to return.

  He sat up; motion annoyed the contents of his stomach, and he stifled a shrimp-scampi laden belch. Ugh. Think I overdid it a bit with ‘real’ food. Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep. Arthur Polini had met him at the restaurant, and they had conducted business before dinner. The Syndicate man seemed pleased with the statue, and they’d made good on their offer of payment. He didn’t get the feeling they’d be making another request of him, so his worry couldn’t be coming from the dread of running afoul of organized crime. It didn’t matter if the law discovered the job he’d done for them; none of it had been illegal. Even criminals sometimes hired legitimate people to do legitimate work.

  He stumbled to the bathroom, thudding a fist into his chest to dislodge a gas bubble. Eyes half-closed, he swayed on his feet in front of the toilet while his mind replayed the events of his Badlands trip. Exploding millipedes, screaming wife and children, growling dogs.

  Alyssa had showed off her bruise once they’d gotten home. The outline of her armored vest couldn’t have been more well defined if someone had used an auto-sprayer to paint it on her in purple. He couldn’t figure out what worried him more: that she’d been shot, or that she thought it ‘cool’ to take a bullet and walk away with a mere bruise.

  After finishing off, he stumbled toward bed, but decided to wander the hallway. At the end, he peered into Alyssa’s room. She lay sprawled on her bed, arms and legs going in all directions, mouth open.

  Heh. Poor kid’s exhausted. At least she can sleep.

  He backed up and went to Hayley’s room; they’d given her the former guest bedroom, which had become her permanent room. As he got close, the evident sound of muffled crying pierced the fog in his mind. Worried, he brushed the door aside.

  Hayley sat on the rug, wearing a gossamer pink nightie with unbuttoned jeans not quite all the way up her legs, sobbing into her hands. Next to her, an open backpack held some hastily-packed clothes. It seemed as though she’d been in the process of getting dressed, but stopped.

  “Hayley?” He walked in.

  She sniffled.

  “Hey…” Kenny hurried over and sat on the floor beside her. “What’s wrong? What’s with the bag?”

  “I was gonna leave, so you didn’t have to put up with me… but I don’t wanna go. I like it here. I like having a home.” She sobbed harder. “But… you think I’m psionic, and you’re gonna hate me.”

  “Stop being silly. Whatever made you think I would hate you for being psionic?”

  She looked up at him; her red-ringed eyes widened. “’Cause, everyone thinks psionics are freaks. They’re either scared of ’em, or they wanna kill ’em. I didn’t want people to be mean to you an’ Liss, and Kathy ’cause I’m here.”

  Kenny pulled her into a hug. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. You’re no freak. Even if you are a psionic, that don’t change a thing about how happy we are to have you in this family.”

  For a few minutes, she bawled into his shirt. Every so often, an apology slipped out between sobs.

  “You don’t need to apologize for being special.”

  “No…” She managed a weak smile while wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry for almost running away.”

  “You didn’t, though.” He kissed the top of her head.

  She leaned forward and pulled a few shirts out of the backpack, returning them to the dresser. “I was gonna, but I chickened out. Feels safe here.”

  “Most kids your age would’ve preferred to stay with Joey or the Rodriguezes while we went after that horse. You wanted to stay with your family.” He shook his head. “Never should’ve taken you out there.”

  She shrugged.

  “Suppose it worked out. We would’ve been in bad shape without you.” He squeezed her shoulder and patted her back. “That why you think you’re psionic?”

  “Yeah a bit… and the way I felt so weird out there the whole time, like I could tell something watched us. The way the truck worked when I wanted it to and the bots… and Joey said I did some stuff with only a senshelmet that I shouldn’t have able to do.”

  “Well, if you want, we can have someone check… so you know. It’s your choice.”

  She shivered. “Will they take me away?”

  “No.”

  “But everyone says they take psionic kids away from their families.” She clung to him. “I don’t wanna go.”

  “I’m pretty sure they’re only taking in the kids whose parents are idiots. I can give Joey a call in the morning and see if he knows how true those rumors are.”

  Hayley nodded. “Okay… if they’re not gonna ta
ke me away, I kinda wanna know.”

  “All right then. Think you can get back to bed?”

  “Yeah.” She held on to him for a moment more. “Thanks, Dad.”

  When she started to let go, Kenny patted her on the back. Hovering in the doorway, he gave her a warm smile as she curled up in bed, and shut off her light.

  Kenny paced around the living room. Hayley, Alyssa, and Kathy sat on the couch in nervous silence. The fragrance of lunch―chicken tacos―still hung in the air. The girls wore matching navy t-shirts and black jeans, no shoes. Kathy had kept her sweatshirt, but traded her sweat pants for grey jeans and fuzzy pink socks.

  Every time he saw those socks, he thought about the joke he’d made about them resembling a housecat that got caught in the autoshower tube’s dry cycle and turned into a cotton ball with eyes. Not the most romantic thing to say, but when she’d come out wearing only those socks during their senior year of high school, his brain had frozen.

  The doorbell rang.

  Hayley whined out her nose.

  “I can still ask them not to bother,” said Kenny.

  “It’s okay.” Hayley bit her lip. “I want to know.”

  Kenny nodded and went to answer the door. A pair of Division 0 officers, tight black uniforms, silver belts, and big smiles stood on the porch. The man had neat dreadlocks down to his jawline, and a confident air about him. His partner had much lighter bronze skin, long, straight black hair, and an equally large smile.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Tactical Officer Randall Moss, and this is my partner, Tactical Officer Mary Lopez.”

  “We’re here at your request,” said Officer Lopez. “Regarding Hayley?”

  Kenny stood aside to let them in. “Right. Just for the record, she’s a little worried about being removed from our home for being psionic… that’s rumor, right?”

  “Completely,” said Officer Moss. “The dorms are for situations where we locate a gifted child who either has been orphaned or whose parents are unable to properly meet their needs.”

  Hayley looked up as the two officers walked around the couch. “Meet their needs? Does that mean something, or is it just a nice way of saying they didn’t want a psionic kid?”