Gran lowers the gun. “Groovy.” He blows smoke from the barrel. “Like, the last thing we need is 2.0 having reinforcements, right?”
Clyde takes several fast steps toward Gran. And for a moment I think I’ve had it all wrong, all backwards, that this Clyde is nothing but another lie, another trick, another dashing of my hopes. I think I am going to steel fist exit a meat skull.
But the energy seems to sap out of Clyde. He stands, a limp metal form before Gran. Everything about him sagging. “A body,” he says. It’s so quiet I can barely hear him. “We could have used it to make me a body.”
Oh. Oh God. Oh, how could I not have seen that? I stare at Clyde’s hopes and dreams splattered across the room.
Gran blinks as realization hits. “Shit, dude,” he says.
Tabitha stares from Clyde to the machine, to Gran’s gun, then back to Clyde. A tight loop of realization and confusion.
“On, you know, the plus side,” Gran says—and I have a distinct feeling he shouldn’t—“like, the robot body is way more durable and shit. Way groovier in a fire fight.”
And I was right, he shouldn’t have said it.
Clyde grabs him by the scruff of his jacket and hoists him clear off the floor. I realize Clyde’s mechanical body, while skinny, is over six feet tall. Gran is not. Clyde holds Gran close to his face.
“I am a human fucking being!” Clyde shouts. The mirrored surface of his face actually quakes. And this is Clyde categorically and unmitigatedly losing his shit.
I’ve never imagined it before. I don’t think I’d have been able to imagine it. And perhaps it might be funny in some circumstance, because it is so unlikely, so unrehearsed, so incompetent in some ways. Clyde is not equipped for this sort of rage.
But knowing him. Knowing his pain here and now. No, this is not funny.
“I am not a robot!” he yells. “I am not a fucking machine! Not a chip or a program or a string of ones and ohs. I am a fucking person trapped in this horrendous fucking body and it’s shit. It’s all shit. And I could have changed. I could have fixed it. I would have… I would have… I would have…” He stops. Or the rage runs out. Or he realizes who he is and what he’s doing and sees the look of horror on Tabitha’s face. Whatever it is, he turns and stares at his hand, and then opens it, and Gran drops to the ground. “I would have been me again,” he finishes.
I want to look to Felicity. To follow her lead. Or to judge mine from her. But that path is closed.
“It might not be the only printer,” I say. It sounds a little lame. Clyde just shakes his head.
And then, again—again—Gran opens his mouth.
“No,” I cut him off. “Not now. Just let it lie.”
But he won’t.
“Dude,” he says, “I’m not, like, trying to be a dick about this, or anything—”
But he’s going to be.
“—peace and love are totally my thing, but I don’t want anyone to have any false expectations about what we’re doing here.” The pained expression again. “We are razing this place to the ground, dudes. We are not saving anything. We are not doing this slowly. We’re just here to fuck up its shit, you know?”
There is a pause of substantial length. Because, well… that, at the very least, is not why Clyde and I are here.
I wish Kayla was here. Just another body to add weight to the cause. And, also, because I think Gran may have a mind that is difficult to change. He is a man of commitment. No matter his outward demeanor, there is inner steel in Gran, and I’m not convinced that I have the strength to bend him. He believes in the marines’ mission here.
Clyde starts to walk away, past the shattered machine, into the depths of this place. “Fine,” he says.
But I don’t believe for one moment that it is.
74
Another sphincter door. It is no better than the first. Another room that’s organic enough to make my own organs quiver in revulsion.
We are strung out now. Clyde leading, me just behind him. Gran and Tabitha in a tight pair some distance back. Then Felicity, dragging at the rear. Keeping her distance from me.
If I could just sell her on my plan… If I could get her on board with the idea of changing the nature of this mission… And she would want to save people, wouldn’t she? But there is no way to discuss it with her. No way to get her alone and implore her.
And if I was alone with her, would I really beg her about this plan? Or just to take me back? How selfish am I? Maybe it’s better that I don’t know.
Another sphincter door. I swear they’re getting worse.
“Dudette, fancy smacking me upside the head with a GPS reading?” Gran asks Tabitha. She responds with a list of numbers.
“We’re going down,” he says. “Floor’s, like, sloping and stuff.” Then louder, for all of us to hear, “Hold up, dudes. I’m going to go ahead and plant the first charge. Be like thirty seconds and then we groove on, ’kay?”
Nobody really acknowledges him, but we do stop. I glance at Clyde, but he’s been in his own personal hell since the 3D printer went boom. I look at Felicity, but she keeps her eyes on Gran.
What do I say? What stops Tabitha from yelling at me about long shots?
Gran pulls a black cylinder from his backpack. It’s about a foot long, bulges in the middle where a digital readout and several buttons lie. Gran starts to press them.
“We’re proving him right,” I say. I have no idea if this is the right tactic or not.
“Who, man?” Gran doesn’t look up from setting the bomb.
Tabitha rolls her eyes.
I push on though. “If we damn everyone Version 2.0 has taken from us,” I say, “if we just write them off, then we’re the species he says we are. Selfish idiotic destroyers ruining this world.”
“Fucking long shots!” Tabitha spits, her bile frothing over. “Fucking stop it!”
So this wasn’t the way to avoid her saying that. But I can’t let Tabitha derail me.
“No,” I snap back at her. “No, I won’t. Because it’s too big. Too important. This is the tipping point. We determine the future of humanity here. This is not a light decision.”
“Why it’s too big to fuck up! My whole point!” Tabitha turns her back on me, apparently no longer able to bear the sight of my idiocy. “That’s exactly why we have to go for the long shot,” I insist. “We have to be better than 2.0. We have to hold humanity to higher standards.”
“So, what, dude?” Gran sets the thermic charge down by his feet. I can see the air rippling, distorted by heat shimmer around its top. “If humanity doesn’t live up to your standards, and I mean, like, your standards, then Version 2.0 is right and we get thrown in the disposal unit. That’s not, like, totally groovy thinking.”
“If we don’t live up to that higher desire, then humanity can’t escape the disposal unit.” I’m trying desperately to hang onto this argument, to not get caught up in my own frustration. I aim for the higher ground. “It’s not about what I believe. It’s about the two hundred million people who will die if we don’t try to help them.”
“They’re already dead!” Tabitha yells, spinning back around, unable to simply ignore me.
And God, it’s so frustrating, because in the end… “You are the one who can save them!” I yell. “You! Your code!”
“He’s right.”
And finally, finally, thank you. Someone has my back.
“Shut the goddamn fuck up!” Tabitha screams at Clyde.
“You could do it,” Clyde keeps on, quiet but definite. “If anyone could, you could. I know it.”
“Shut up, you goddamned machine!”
“Dudette…” Gran lays his hand on Tabitha’s shoulder.
“What?” She whirls on him too. “Like this is viable?”
He shakes his head. “No. Of course not.”
“Yes,” I demand, “it is. We’re at the center of Version 2.0’s network here. We put the code in his servers. We distribute it to all his mushroo
ms. He deprograms everyone for us.”
Gran looks at me. “Seriously, man? Just, like, think it through. For your plan to work we need to take down the wireless blockers. And if we do that, we, like, all lose our minds. Like instantly and shit.”
“And he—” I start.
“He distributes your code?” Gran looks at me, incredulous. “No way, man. He’s, like, a super genius. He rips your code out and wins. And yes, I totally get that this way sucks, but it’s the way we have, man. It’s what Version 2.0 has left us with. Let it go, dude. Just chill, and blow him up, and shit. It’s cathartic, man.”
While Gran may have saved my life moments ago, right now punching him in the face might be a little cathartic.
“I could help,” Clyde says. “I could fight him. He is me. I could—”
“Dude,” Gran sounds like his patience is slipping too. “You really need to chill. Like, he tore apart the brains of three of you already. He’ll do it to you too.” He shrugs, as if somehow throwing Clyde’s signature move back in his face.
And finally, because I can resist it no longer, I look to Felicity. She is staring at the thermic device at Gran’s feet. The heat shimmer has expanded halfway to the ceiling. But then, for a moment she looks at me. And all I can say to her is, “Come on. Please.”
She opens her mouth.
Suddenly a great vibration runs through the room. Something massive and decidedly unhealthy sounding. One wall bulges awkwardly. I hear a fleshy ripping sound and then a gush of fluid. Somewhere a wall has given way.
“The hell?” I stare around.
“Sweet,” Gran says.
I fail to see the saccharine he’s referencing.
“Guessing this isn’t, like, the first device planted.” Gran nods at the device at his feet. It is belching out heat. Sweat has broken out all over my forehead.
And that’s just great. Another ticking clock. Just what I needed today. Why are there no threats to the world that I can just get to in my own damn time?
“Felicity,” I say, “you know what I’m saying is right.”
She looks away, and then back. “I know it would be nice if it was right. But Gran—”
“Jeez, man. You are, like, so into making me be the dick today.” Gran shakes his head. “I want this to be awesome for us. We take down the bad guy and shit. That’s what we do today. We’re not doing your thing, man. We’re not. I’m sorry but there’s no way it’s happening. It’s ungroovy.”
There is something in the way he says it which sets off alarms in the back of my head. I don’t think I’m the only one who senses it.
“Or what?”
Another boom from somewhere not as far away as I’d like.
Gran looks at me as if I’m genuinely crazy. “What do you mean, or what, man? I mean, like you’re going to come to blows with me on this? It’s not happening, dude. It’s, like, no way and no how coming together in beautiful harmony. We need to talk about something way more chill and get out of here before the timer on this thing goes kaboom. You dig, dude?”
“Would it come to blows?” I ask. And I remember Winston. I remember him saying that Gran called in the planes. I remember being asked to kick Gran in the nuts. And I dismissed it. I blamed the General. I thought Winston was just upset at the world. But… what if he wasn’t?
I remember again the little girl with her brains blown out before we could save her.
What if Winston wasn’t wrong? What if Gran killed him?
Gran just looks sad. “Dude… I… This is ridiculous, man. We need to go. Come on?”
“Would it come to blows?” My voice is raised. I will not move. And even Tabitha is looking at Gran now.
“Dude…” Gran shakes his head. He goes to speak and I see the exasperation on his face, and I get that I’m being a dick to him, but this is too big to sweep aside just because it’s socially awkward. I’m not letting him take that exit. And Gran sees it. He sighs.
“Dude. I am here to save the world today. From Version 2.0. And from you if I have to. There. You fucking happy, man?” He shakes his head. “Can we go now? Do this thing?”
And there it is. Out in the open for us to see. Our role here. Our place. And that’s what I have. That’s what I have to show Tabitha and Felicity. And maybe they agree with Gran. But maybe, just maybe…
Tabitha steps toward Gran. “Come on.”
Shit. Shit and balls.
But then Felicity says, “No.”
And God, oh God, it is like a supernova in my chest. I almost don’t care what she’s objecting to. She is agreeing with me. She is with me. Here and now, on this, she is with me.
Gran looks at her.
“No,” she says, “it’s not right.”
“Dudes.” Gran looks genuinely distraught. “I don’t get this. I mean, fuck, man. This is the easy bit. We’re in. We kill things. We chill. I don’t… I don’t…” He looks to Tabitha for support.
She looks disgusted by all of us. “Fucked. In the head. All of them.”
Gran shakes his head. He looks beaten. And maybe… “I like all you guys. Like, hugely. MI37 is awesome. Don’t do this.”
“That’s it.” Felicity stabs a finger at him. “That. Right there. That’s what I won’t fight for. That’s why you’re in the wrong. Because you care for us but you’d throw us to the wolves anyway. No. I say no to that. We protect our own. And, yes, Arthur’s idea is stupid and idiotic, but God, it’s necessary. He’s right. We need to be more than the people that survive. We need to be heroes.”
“Jesus!” Gran throws his hands up. “If I’d known you guys were into hallucinating so much we could have had serious fun, you know. You’re talking about throwing away everybody. You understand that? Everyone in the world.”
And what if Gran’s right? Everything he’s saying makes sense.
Except the thought of his victory makes me feel sick in my gut. I could not live in the world he’d leave us with.
“We can find a way.” I feel like a preacher in the desert, desperately trying to convince my flock.
“Without me you can’t.” Tabitha has her hands on her hips.
“We have Clyde,” I snap back.
“Thanks, man,” says Clyde. “You are like an awesome over-confident friend. I really appreciate that.”
OK, maybe we do need Tabitha.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Tabitha, “you have to come with us.”
“Hey…” Clyde sounds a little hurt.
“Have to?” Tabitha says at the same time.
But it’s Gran’s reaction that really captures my attention. Because apparently the line you do not cross with him is the one where you say that his girlfriend has to come with you.
The barrel of his gun points straight at my face.
75
“Dude,” Gran says. And there really is such pain in his voice. The pleading in that word is as heartfelt as any plea I have made to him. “I’m begging you here. Chill the fuck out and come along with me. Let’s be totally radical and cool about this. Can we do that?”
But abruptly Gran’s gun is not the only one drawn.
“You put that goddamn thing down.” Felicity has a bead on Gran’s head. “You understand? You put that down this instant.”
Oh my God. She… She… What the hell is happening here? How did this happen?
This is New York all over again. A plan falling apart all over again. People are going to die again. Sweat is pouring off me, though part of me realizes that’s as much to do with the skyrocketing temperature as with the tension.
I need to get this under control. “This is insane,” I say. “No one is going to shoot anyone.”
“Just Version 2.0, right?” Gran’s gun doesn’t waver from my head.
“You put that fucking thing down!” Felicity’s calm is definitely in question. And despite everything going on in this room, part of me just wants to rush over and kiss her and thank her.
“We need to just talk,” I say. “That
’s all. All of us sit down and talk and think about this.”
The heat is a physical presence in the room. An oppressive force pushing down on us with sweaty palms.
“There is no discussion, man.” Gran is still pointing the gun. “We have orders and shit, dude. Chain of command and shit.”
“Never really was Arthur’s strong point that,” Clyde says. “Not judging of course. Just an observation. If you want it. Probably don’t—”
“Shut up, tin man,” Gran snaps. For a moment his gun wavers away from me in Clyde’s direction. I twitch and the gun is back on me.
“Put! It! Down!” Cords stand out in Felicity’s neck.
“This is crazy, dudes.” Gran still sounds sad. “I’m going to have to take you in and shit now. This isn’t how this was meant to be.”
“I will reset your thoughts right here and right now.” And I know that tone in Felicity’s voice. She is not joking.
Someone is going to die here. I realize that suddenly. This is the immovable object and the unstoppable force. I am as stubborn an arsehole as Gran. And I don’t know which one of us is the hero anymore. I’ve lost that. But… Jesus. Jesus.
There is one way to settle this.
I turn my back on Gran. “I’m going to find the servers,” I say. “To do it my way. You do what you have to do.”
There is a moment of absolute silence.
“Not completely convinced on the whole wisdom aspect of this plan,” Clyde says.
The heat shimmer makes the entire room seem to quake.
“Put the gun down!” Felicity is reliably consistent on this point.
“Arthur. Dude. Don’t make me do this.”
“I’m not making you do anything.”
I take a breath. I think about how maybe, just maybe, Kurt Russell might be proud of me in this moment.
I take the step.
There is a noise like the world crashing down.
I wait for the pain, for the numbness, for the end.
It doesn’t come.
But the sound goes on, crescendos.
I spin just in time to see the room’s ceiling collapse.
Anti-Hero Page 37
