by Tom Andry
"Because I'd be doing it for you. I'm a supercomputer. I could finish your work in minutes if I could just access it. The fact they still use pen and paper is infuriating!"
I sighed again, considering making a preemptive hash mark as my eyes drooped. This wasn't the first time I'd been spoken to about my mistakes. I didn't know how they did it. Accountants. My eyes crossed after about fifteen minutes of the work.
They kept talking and I kept nodding. Eventually they left. I turned back to my ledger, my eyes already growing heavy.
"If you could read the numbers off to me, I could tell you the answers."
I muttered under my breath, "Shhh." I listened, trying to hear if any of the writing around me slowed or stopped. I didn't want another complaint about me "talking to myself" again.
"Or use the code. The code was working."
The code was me tapping the desk with my pencil. Between a combination of taps, coughs, and various other noises, I could tell Mind what was on the page in front of me. Of course, it'd only taken a week before I'd gotten three complaints from those around me.
"No."
"Bob, we have to do something. They aren't going to let you keep making mistakes. Between that and your refusal to make friends, I'm surprised you've lasted this long."
I pressed at my ear, adjusting the small device conveying Mind's voice, trying not to raise my own, "Your fault."
"Sure, blame me. EnviroKop was supposed to be easy. But they are a private security firm. It makes sense that their computer system has been a bit harder to penetrate. We could just hack it, but then they'd know. Having you on-site means that we can retrieve the Multikey when we are done syphoning off the data we need."
"Too long."
"Did you say something?"
I half stood, glancing over my cubicle wall at my neighbor, "No. Sorry."
He smiled and sat back down.
"Plus," Mind continued as if nothing had happened, "it took you nearly a month to get into the computer mainframe room. You can't blame me for that."
I scowled and turned back to the numbers in front of me. They blurred. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed them to focus.
Mind was bored; that much was clear. She used to control all the data and automated defenses of the Bulwark. The Bulwark was Earth's greatest and best known defensive super team. They not only tackled the toughest villains and threats to the planet, but they also ruled the Super State: the borderless country, which all (and only) supers were encouraged to join.
Mind, like the supers, was targeted by The Raven. She'd escaped into a computer terminal in my office where she’d decided to hide. She'd wanted to continue working with the Bulwark and the supers, but she'd only left behind a basic program. One that she felt would be enough for their needs, but not so complicated that she couldn't control it. At first, it had been fine, but recently, they'd scrapped Mind’s basic program for something new.
She hadn't been happy with that.
I blinked my eyes and turned back to my work. I didn't want to look at the clock and know just how much longer I had before I could leave. I glanced down at my hash-marked paper and sighed.
* * *
The sun was low in the sky as I walked back to my rented apartment. It was near EnviroKop, making my commute easy, but more importantly, it gave my cover story of a single, mid-thirties man a bit of credence. That and the fact that I was a single, mid-thirties man. They didn't have to know that I was also a PI with my own, heavily fortified apartment, complete with the world's most annoying supercomputer.
I turned as a cab honked at a pedestrian. It wasn't long ago that the sounds of rush hour traffic would have been overshadowed by the supers flying overhead and running past at near supersonic speeds. But that had changed.
I fingered the keychain in my pocket.
"Stop fidgeting."
"Shut up," I murmured. "Just because you can 'hear' my movements doesn't mean you know what I'm doing."
"Oh, really? Don't you think that keychain is a bit on the nose?"
I scowled and took out the keys and looked at the number on the chain. 19. I glanced around to make sure that no one was within earshot before responding.
"Smart ass. No, I don't. It isn't like anyone else but me can remember her."
"And me."
"You don't remember her. I told you about her."
"Not true. I saw her. I remember."
"Big deal. Her power worked on actual brains. Not artificial ones." A little girl with the tight blonde curls and all white eyes floated through my mind.
"That hurts, Bob. I was a super once. Before I melded with a computer."
"You don't know that. You can't remember. Not after The Raven."
Mind ignored the dig, "Plus, we don't know that you are the only tippy. There is still a question whether the S&M club owner remembers."
I ground my teeth and flipped the small, Q-tip shaped tool attached to my keychain into my hand. I needed a break. With a practiced motion, I pretended to scratch at my ear and used the tool to remove the earpiece. I could have just turned it off, but I wanted to annoy Mind. She hated when I just removed it and didn't turn it off. Something about wasting batteries.
Tay. "Master" Tay was a club owner and the one who had commissioned the clones of a young and exceptionally powerful super. That much I was sure of. Tay had found the original girl somehow, and had gotten enough of her for some super scientist to grow copies. And more copies. And more. Tay would convince the girls that he was the only one who could protect them. And they'd protect him in return with their telepathic powers.
He'd said there was a Twenty. That he had another clone on the way. It was a single sentence. A throwaway line. He might have been lying. But I couldn't let myself believe that. I wouldn't.
If anyone other than me could remember Nineteen, it was him. I had attempted to visit him in prison to try and extract any information about the super that had made the clones for him, but he'd refused to see me. I could have pulled some strings, but that would have raised red flags. I'd eventually given up. Decided to investigate on my own.
When I entered my apartment, I threw my briefcase on the threadbare couch, kicked off my oversized shoes, and headed directly to the kitchen, my heels clicking on the tile floor though my thin socks. I pulled open the refrigerator door, extracted the pizza box, and cursed as I opened it.
Empty. Why the hell did I put it back in the fridge if it was empty? That was the sort of thing that used to drive Gale crazy.
Opening the cabinet, I pulled out the two contents: a glass and a bottle of scotch. I poured myself a finger and a half and swallowed it in one gulp.
The apartment was white and rust colored - white walls and rust colored everything else, including the carpet. The ad had promised that it would be furnished. That had proven to be optimistic. It had a couch, a black and white TV, and a bed. Over the last two months, I had alternated between the couch and the bed, unsure which had the fewest bugs and loose springs. I would have tried out the floor if I hadn't suspected that the carpet was dyed to cover blood stains.
I picked up the phone and spun the dial seven familiar times. A moment later, a scratchy voice answered. He sounded scared. I smiled.
The shower was coldish. Turned all the way to hot, the water could almost be called tepid. I had gotten used to it. I put the same clothes back on after giving them a good sniff. Musty but not too bad. They'd do for another day.
I refilled my drink in the kitchen and then walked back to my bedroom. Across from my bed was the only addition I'd made to the space: a small, seemingly insignificant dartboard. I took the three darts in my hand and stuck them in the double, then triple 19. The last dart I stuck in the center. With a whir, the sides of the dartboard opened. Wiry arms extended from the openings, each holding groups of folded scraps of paper, pictures, business cards, and more. Using string, electrical tape, and frankly, scraps of my own clothes, the mechanical arms returned each of the items to their pla
ces on the walls. After all these months, two of the walls were nearly covered. The process took nearly a full minute before the arms retracted back into the dartboard.
I placed my finger on a number on the dartboard.
19.
To anyone else, it would be a random selection. Taken in conjunction with the keychain, maybe a lucky number. I traced a line with my finger. A picture of a black bird. A raven. Nineteen, with her telepathic powers, had been one of the only supers on the planet who could slow him down. I'd taken her right to him. Not to help with the fight, but because that was where all the supers were. And she was dying. No one other than a super could've helped her.
She hadn't made it. But I'd promised myself that I'd save her. If I couldn't save her, I'd save one of her "sisters". Nineteen. A clone.
I continued down a different line.
I scowled at the image of a sleazy club owner I'd cut from a magazine. I'd handwritten "Tay" underneath. From that image, the lines exploded out like rays of sunshine, or one of those pictures of saints. Each one leading to a person or business that Mind or I had uncovered. Each investigated. Searched. Vetted. We'd delved into the lives of so many people, so many corporations. I'd leaned on, bribed, and even threatened scores of them. So many, I couldn't begin to remember all their faces. Too many.
And not enough.
I walked down the lines, remembering the leads, the excitement. There had been so many times where I had been sure. ManiKan. I was sure of them. The name alone. Turned out they really were a nail care product company. Though the stuff they did to cats in that place should've gotten them a special place in hell. I passed Glomich, a pharmaceutical company. That had led to Baffer, a super that claimed to have unlocked the secret of life, which turned out to be a weird vampire blood fetish. There were more. Branches of lines that had ultimately led nowhere.
Finally, I reached the Condor. That tippy playing super had been my best bet. It'd been under my nose, and I'd ignored it. A case that a mother had brought to me long ago. I'd turned it down. I never used to like doing kid cases. Reminded me too much of my daughter. But one afternoon, after the constant nagging from Mind, I was finally cleaning up my files and found the case. It had changed everything.
Gideon Sans.
The man was an enigma. Mind and Alan both could find very little on him. Only that he was connected to a few companies, most of which were shell corporations. The only one that had a real, physical address was EnviroKop.
I sat on the bed, staring at the wall, letting the pattern blur in my mind. I was missing something. But I had spent so many hours in front of this wall. I just couldn't see it. All I could see was her face.
Nineteen.
I paced back to the living room/kitchen area. If I got much closer to my briefcase, I'd risk hearing Mind screaming at me from my earpiece. She - I knew "she" was really an "it", but with that voice, I couldn't help but think of her as a her - would probably be demanding I plug the earpiece in.
There was a knock at the door.
I smiled. Dinner.
I opened the door to a boy who looked like he was probably on his high school football team looking down on me.
"You're new."
The boy shifted, uncertain. "Hey, uh...it's $15.34."
I nodded slowly.
The pizza boy set the pizza sleeve on the ground next to him, the box in his hand. I just stared at him.
"Um...you can pay by check if you want."
"I know."
I let the silence continue, seeking out his eyes and trying not to blink. The boy slowly became more and more uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
"If this is a bad time..."
I shook my head, "Nope. Now's good."
Again, I fell silent and unmoving. I let a small smile flash across my lips.
The boy stepped toward me, his chest puffed out, "Now, I heard about you. I heard you can be a real hard ass. But don't try that shit with me, man. I'm not afraid of you."
I lifted an eyebrow, "Really? Hmm. Okay." I paused, "Make me."
The boy's eyes narrowed and he set the pizza on the sleeve on the ground. He turned back to me, his eyes wild and cheeks red. He jerked toward me, one arm cocked back.
I reached down and pressed the switch on my leg that activated my Inertial Dampener, an invisible field that absorbed the kinetic energy of any projectile that entered it. It had stopped bullets. This boy's punch had no chance. As expected, the pizza boy froze long before anything resembling a punch flew.
At last, he exhaled explosively, "Fine! If I throw in some breadsticks, will you just let me go?"
"Now you're talking," I reached into my pocket for my wallet. "$15.34 did you say? Here's $17. Keep it."
"Oh, thanks a lot, man," the boy couldn't hide his disappointment.
"Before you go, how much did you lose?"
"Twenty."
I tsk'ed in retort, "You didn't have a chance. Tell them to send the hot girl again. At least she was interesting."
The boy picked up the sleeve and pulled out the breadsticks he had hidden in the back, "Just tell me this...why? Why do you call us just to give us such a hard time?"
I shrugged in return, "Consider it life training. If you can't stand up to me, what are you going to do against a super?"
I turned and slammed the door in his face.
* * *
"That was completely unnecessary."
I had barely put the earpiece back in before she started in on me. I pushed the chunk of breadstick into my cheek, "You say that every time."
"It is true every time."
"Let me eat in peace."
Mind's feminine voice echoed in my head, my nightly headache from staring at small numbers creeping toward my eyes, "Speaking of eating, don't you think you've had enough?"
"What?" I objected, "This is only my third piece."
"Would you like me to tell you all the stuff that is in that? What it is doing to your heart? Your blood pressure?"
"No, I don't. Now shut up."
"For every bite, you need to run for fifteen minutes to burn it off."
I took an extra-large bite.
Mind sighed, "Fine. But we need to talk."
"Yeah?"
"Alan has been leaving messages for you."
I laughed, "Of course he has. He's dying to get the information on this place."
"You should call him. Maybe meet with him."
I shook my head, "Not a chance. We agreed that I was going to stay undercover until I was sure it was safe to meet."
"I could direct you. Hide you."
"No, Mind. It's too dangerous."
"Are you doubting me?"
"Not at all. But you don't control everything. What happens if someone from EnviroKop decides to go out at the same time? Or they are driving by and see me with Alan. His face is famous. Dirk Dirtwater - famous reporter slash writer. He's been on books, on TV, hell, his face is in the paper next to one of his stories at least once a month."
"I understand that. But don't you think you've been cooped up in this apartment long enough?"
"No."
Mind didn't respond at first. This wasn't the first time we'd had this discussion.
"What about Liz?"
I threw my hands up, "What about her?" I stopped, thinking, "Why, did she call?"
Mind paused before answering, "No...one of her people called to remind you about the meeting...but I'm sure if you..."
I put a hand up, "I've called her enough. She says she's busy running TOP? Busy working with all those pathetic tippys looking for handouts because some super put a ding in their car...well, I guess she's too busy for me."
"That's not fair Bob, and you know it. She was hurt too."
I reached down and stroked my leg, the metal cold under my slacks. I tried to swallow back the memory but couldn't. The Raven, more powerful than any other super, crawling toward me. I'd tried to move fast, to get the girls into a small enough ball so that th
e teleportation field would cover us three. But before I could press the button, a vice-like grip on my ankle, followed by an irresistible pull. I had no choice; I had to activate the teleporter. Nineteen and Nissa, my ex-assistant, had made it through. I had as well - at least most of me. Later, a super genius friend had replaced most of my right leg and my left foot with metal versions. It'd taken weeks of physical therapy before I'd learned to stand. Much more to run. It hadn't helped that the feet were two sizes smaller than before. I'd taken to stuffing my shoes.
Liz hadn't been part of the battle, but her office had been burned down while she was in it. She'd rebuilt it, but she couldn't rebuild the scarring on her face.
"We were all hurt. That's no excuse."
"And yet, here you are, alone, in an apartment."
I stood, angry, "Listen, you. I'm doing something. I'm going to find her. I'm going to..." I couldn't finish.
Mind paused for a long time as I stormed around the apartment, cooling off.
Finally, she broke the silence, "The Multikey finally gained control of their communications."
The Multikey was a sort of all-purpose computer access device. All I had to do was plug it in near a computer and Mind would find a way to access it and take it over. If I plugged it into the actual computer, it would happen fairly quickly. Often though, I had to settle for a power outlet nearby.
With EnviroKop, I'd gotten lucky. I'd found one of their computer rooms and plugged it directly in. That'd been over a month ago.
"It's about time."
"Their system is far more complex than I anticipated."
"You mentioned that."
"No," Mind corrected, "I said that I thought the system was more complex. Now I know."
"Whatever. Just tell me I can get the Multikey and get out. I don't think I can take another day there."
"You could take it now. It has downloaded a lot of data. But if you stay a bit longer, I can establish a secure link and we can get access to everything and have it transmitted over the phone lines."
I shook my head, "But you already had control of the cameras and all the security measures."
"Not all," she corrected, "those were housed in the console where you plugged in the Multikey. The data was stored elsewhere."
