by Ron Collins
His legs were tender, and the muscles of his shoulders were tight from his late run. He put his feet on the floor and cupped his hands together.
No.
He couldn’t leave it sit like that. Couldn’t just leave the Beatrice he knew behind.
There had to be a way.
His mother was in the kitchen, scanning a holo. She laughed at a joke.
As he went to the cabinet, his movement caught her eye.
“Hello, sleepyhead,” she said.
“We’re out of cereal.”
“Dad probably ate the last of it.”
He scowled and began gathering bread and eggs.
“Yeah,” he said. They were out of butter, too, so it would have to be just jam on the toast. “But does he know where the damned requester is at?”
She paused the holo.
“We don’t use that kind of language in this house.”
“Yeah, well. We apparently don’t know how to order food in this house, either.”
Her silence drew his gaze.
“Don’t give your father a hard time. He’s having problems with his heart, you know.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“How can you not know that?”
“It’s not like he tells me anything.” Maine would have said more, but he could feel the prickles rising in his chest, and the battle lines were already clear. His mother wouldn’t have Maine calling his father lazy or listless or any one of a hundred other names that Maine would like to call him. When he was younger, Dad always had a hundred things going on, but now he was embarrassing for his lack of interest in pretty much anything.
Mostly, Maine just wanted to have breakfast and get out of the house.
“Doc bot gave him new pills,” Mom said. “Says maybe he should sleep sitting up.”
Maine most definitely did not say: Maybe he should lose about half his weight. Instead, he walked to the dispenser and pulled a bag of plum-orange juice, then got the pan heating and dropped bread into the toaster.
“Are you okay?” his mom said. “Looks like you’re limping.”
“I’m fine.”
“You were running again? I thought you were with group.”
“Both.”
He broke eggs and dropped them in the pan. The aroma and the sound of the eggs sizzling made him even hungrier. He thought about Beatrice as he stretched his legs. He hoped his mother would drop it.
“I swear I don’t see the attraction of either,” she said, though. “When I was a kid, I didn’t know anyone who spent time learning for no reason — and someone who said they actually wanted to run like that would have been laughed out of the neighborhood.”
“Not now, Mom.”
“I’m just saying. We never needed—”
He pounded his fist on the countertop.
“Really, Mom. Not now.”
They sat in one of those awkward silences that make it feel like the entire world had stopped rotating on its axis. His mom breathed a nasal breath, then let it out. She glanced at her holo before turning back to him.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” she finally said.
More than anything, Maine wanted to tell his mother that yes, there was something she could do.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he said, sliding his eggs onto a plate. “No. There’s nothing you can do.”
The toast popped.
He spread jam over the surface, and as he ate, his mom returned to her holo.
He chewed and swallowed each bit properly and in control. That was how he was training. Control to everything. Each step in its proper spacing. Each bite with its proper purpose. When he finished breakfast, he cleaned up and put the dishes away.
He had been truthful with his mother. There wasn’t anything she could do to help him save Beatrice.
There was, however, something he could do.
Learning Module A.12: Success Criteria (Private)
Most successful Wakers become ready to leave the medical center within three weeks, though some have taken as many as nine weeks.
Per records kept by the Central Inspector, all are living happy lives in various places around the globe and serving various functions as if they were naturally born members of society.
Wakers who take longer than nine weeks, however, are considered unsuccessful and can result in termination, with the subject’s inability to learn being considered a deciding factor.
CHAPTER 14
The next day Julia escorted Bexie to his learning room once again. He wore comfortable pants and a green shirt. The chamber walls were their usual off-white.
What was different was that the chamber had a desk and chairs in it.
“Please, Mr. Montgomery,” Winnie said, seated behind the desk. “Take a seat.”
“After all this time together, don’t you think it’s time you called me Bexie?” he said as he took his seat.
The teacher leveled her fake eyes like they were a pair of handguns. They seemed harder today, the blue of the irises flaked with deeper steel.
“It is not acceptable for you to leave your quarters unaccompanied, Mr. Montgomery.”
“It was a simple mistake.”
“The chances of your excursion yesterday evening happening by simple mistake is less than a hundredth of one percent.”
He smiled. “Okay, you’ve got me. I’m sorry. It’s just that … I need to do something, you know. This process is driving me loopy. Day after day after day of watching — absorbing — these modules. It’s just not how I do things.”
“And how do you do things, Mr. Montgomery?”
“I’m a hands-on guy. I try things. When they work, I learn from them.”
“And when they don’t work?”
“I learn from them, too,” Bexie said. “In fact, failures make me learn even faster.”
“That is not how things work, here.”
“Why not?”
“It is our job to ensure the public is safe. If we release you too early you would cause damage.”
“That makes it sound like you’re a police force.”
“Not exactly.”
“That’s an interesting question, though,” Bexie said. “Who does police the public these days? That must be different, too.”
“The few cases of dispute that arise are brought to the Central Inspector’s Office for review.”
“I would like to meet this Central Inspector.”
Winnie gave a toothless smile.
“I assume you know that I’ve already done the transportation program you’re going to run me through, right?”
“You took it as independent study two nights ago, but I need to ensure you’ve absorbed the material successfully.”
“Look,” Bexie said. “I’m really sorry about the excursion I took. But, seriously, it’s true that I’ve taken the transportation module but it’s also true that it won’t help. Not really. You can give it to me again and again, but I’m not really going to get it until I get out into the real world.”
“There is no other option.”
“What happens if I don’t ever get it, then?”
“We continue until you get it or until the contract suggests termination.”
“You can’t be serious.”
The teacher sat motionlessly.
Bexie sat back.
“All right, then. I’ll do my best. But this is wrong. I mean, how much damage can I do if you let me get on a tram in the actual city and travel around rather than sit up here in this stuffy white room?”
Winnie froze for a moment.
Then blinked her eyes in an expression of surprise.
“The Inspector’s Office has agreed. They believe that experiencing the city might accelerate your comprehension. We will find a way to escort you through learning modules using the city.”
“That’s great!” he said, oddly perplexed. He hadn’t expected such a rapid response.
“If the process is successful, it will be incorpor
ated into future resuscitation efforts. A trial session will be configured to allow you access to the city for one day. Afterward, we will debrief the process to discover its advantages and flaws.”
His hands nearly shook with the news, which surprised him but maybe shouldn’t have. He hadn’t realized exactly what it meant to be locked in this cage until now. Feeling this freedom made him uncomfortable in a different way. He scratched his neck and gathered his thoughts. Now was not the time to be weak.
“Can I ask for one more favor?”
“You may ask.”
“Well, it’s not a favor really so much as it is a suggestion.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m wondering if it might be best if I could be accompanied by another human. I’m trying to relate to the world, yet all I have are Julia, you, and who knows how many other robots and whatnots. I feel a need to talk to someone like me. Someone who can really understand me.”
“I am capable of linguistic and nonverbal communication in all known forms of human interaction. I am fully capable of understanding you.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
He thought about it. It was a good question.
What the hell did he mean?
He didn’t know anyone in the world today.
Who would he be able to relate to? What did he want to know?
One name snapped to his mind, the first name he had heard upon waking, the name he had wanted to hire away from wherever the hell she was working now. She was an entrepreneur, after all. A soup stand in every store.
She would understand him.
“I want to talk to Kinji Hall,” he said. “Could we have her be my escort?”
“Kinji Hall?”
“Yes. Kinji Hall. I think I could learn from her.”
“All right, Mr. Montgomery. We will inquire about Ms. Hall’s availability. But for now, let’s focus on this module.”
Bexie collected his thoughts.
“When will we know?”
“I would expect a response from Ms. Hall sometime today.”
“Outstanding.”
“So … the module.”
“Yes,” Bexie said, standing up. “By all means, the module.”
CHAPTER 15
Kinji Hall sat on the balcony of her eighth-floor flat in London and wrapped her hands around a cup of hot tea. The morning was warm, springtime just winding its way into the year. This might be the last time for the turtleneck she was wearing. This year, anyway.
She enjoyed watching the city flow. It was like a giant heart, its streets pumping people to and from everywhere so that the whole living thing that people called a city stayed alive. She liked that she could come here at any time of the day and watch it, the flow. It made her feel a connection to something she could never quite manage to describe correctly, though she never stopped trying.
She smiled at the cooing of pigeons on the roof across the alleyway.
The smells of rain and concrete wafted from below, mixing with the hydrangea plant she’d potted in the corner of the balcony.
The cup she held had been designed by an artisan from the mountains in Chile. She had requested six of them a year ago, but one had broken when Jordan threw it off this very balcony last month. He hadn’t really understood her, and their story had ended shortly thereafter. She could ask for another cup, but she liked how it felt to have a hole in the set.
Warmth from the cup felt wonderful against her fingers.
The tea’s aroma was a mix of orchid and ginger, light, but gritty against the back of her throat. Its earthiness made her feel grounded.
She sipped, feeling the heat flow down to her stomach, and stared at the horizon as the sun made its way into the sky. The tea had been cultured in Lilith Station, and was one of the newer luxury items that couldn’t be obtained through standard requests, yet.
Kinji had a full day planned.
She wanted to finish additions to the soup line design and send new parameters to the manufacturing printers. Requests for new installations were already arriving, so she was certain it would be made as soon as she was finished. But this moment was for getting her head on straight. She wanted to enjoy the peace of the morning.
Her pager toned inside her head.
So much for that.
Irked, Kinji twisted the corner of her lip down.
Her body chemistry altered at the sight of the avatar when she accepted the page — Tania.
She tweaked the corner of her lip twice more and Tania’s full essence appeared.
“Hey, hey-o,” Kinji said.
“Hey, hey-o, girl,” came Tania’s reply.
They had been friends since meeting on a dance floor in Mozambique ten years ago.
“What can I do for you, Tania?” she asked.
“Well, you could hop on a flier and join me for dinner and a party tonight. It’s been too long.”
“Or you could come to London.”
“I hate London.”
Kinji shrugged. “Your loss.”
“Fish and chips. Who wants to eat that all day?”
“Now you’re just being mean.”
Tania laughed. “Sorry. Just having fun.”
“Seriously, babe,” Kinji said. “What can I do for you? I’ve got to get going soon.”
“You’ve got a request.”
“A request?”
“Yeah, and a bit of a strange one at that. A Waker has asked to see you.”
“A Waker?”
“You know, a person they brought back from the past. Dude froze himself or loaded himself. Whatever.” Tania sent a linkpad. “Follow that for the last few reports.”
“What does he want with me?”
Tania gave her a sideways glance that had naughty and mischievous slathered all over it.
“Don’t you think of anything but sex, Tania?”
“Sex is art, remember?”
Yes, Kinji remembered that all too well.
“Seriously, what could a Waker possibly want with me? And why’d they contact you first?”
“I think it has to do with your soup stand design. Says he heard about it from a newsfeed and wants to talk about it. The medical center couldn’t get to your node but found mine through free associations.” Tania paused to fan herself in an over-the-top piece of drama. “Imagine that, little ol’ me attached to important ol’ you in a free association. It’s enough to make a heart go pitter-patter, isn’t it?”
“Sorry about that.”
“No reason to be sorry, sweetie. Just make it up to me.”
“I’ll do that.”
Kinji had locked her node to the general public a few years ago when it became obvious that most people just wanted to feed off her creativity. It had cost her because deep down she had a hard time saying no to any project that seemed interesting — and because even when people didn’t know what they were talking about they often had lots of interesting ideas.
“Anyway, I thought you would be interested in this guy because, well, there aren’t that many Wakers, you know? And how many of them are going to be into soup stands?”
“Not many,” Kinji said. “Where is he?”
“California. San Francisco.”
Tania sent the connection information.
“That’s not far from Acapulco, is it?”
“Nope,” Tania replied with a playful tone to her voice that made Kinji’s body expand. “Not far at all.”
From her balcony, Kinji scanned London. The city would be fine without her for a few days. It could still all work out, too. She could plug into the design space on the flier, and if she ran into troubles it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she didn’t finish the updates for another few days. Besides, the idea of a Waker being somehow interested in the soup stand idea could create interest in places she’d never considered.
An artist should always be adding, right?
That was all she knew for certain
, the idea that fueled her existence — all she had ever needed.
“All right,” Kinji said. “I’ll check the flier schedules.”
“Already done, babe.”
Tania sent a fresh data stream. The next flier left London in three hours. She could make it if she packed light.
Kinji sipped more tea, and her smile grew wider as she felt its warmth in places she hadn’t earlier. “You really want to see me, eh?”
“More than anything I can think of.”
“All right,” Kinji said, unable to hold back her smile. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
CHAPTER 16
A tone buzzed as the crowded Green Tram glided to a stop at the historic Fillmore District. Kinji Hall got out at the platform and stepped into the flow of people leaving the stop. Her bags would be delivered to her hotel room, so she’d decided to go straight to Geo-Span.
Travelling usually wore on her, but the flier from London to San Francisco had been a quick jaunt. The day was still early and shaping up to be warm and beautiful. The smell of grass and heated food from nearby cook bins wafted through the tube — which was a frosted-glass construct, open on both ends, with high arches that had been designed to ring with the hint of historic train stations.
Other travelers strode past, dressed in travel finery of processed fabrics and high hats or in simple grunge. The voices of children echoed, drawing her attention.
“I’m sorry,” the father said, bending to grab one of the three boys.
“Not a problem,” Kinji replied. “It’s fun to see the little ones. My zone has so few!”
The father grimaced. “Two of them are just friends,” he explained.
She realized the man might take her comment as criticism — to mean he’d been selfish to have three children. There were no limits, but several social circles had gotten active lately in efforts to reduce the birth rate. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean any offense.”
“None taken,” the man said, but he moved his kids along quickly.
Kinji’s lips turned down at the corners as she watched them go. There was nothing to do for it, though. She hadn’t meant to be annoying.
