The Rage Room

by Lisa de Nikolits

  “Do you have anybody who can help you with the children?” Mr. Mullet asked and I nodded. “My mother.”

  I called Mother. “Celeste is dead and I need you,” I said without preamble. “Turns out she took drugs. Please come, Mother.”

  There was silence. “I’m on my way,” she said, and we swiped our comms closed.

  “She’s not the warmest person in the world,” I told Mr. Mullet, “but she’ll step up in a crisis. I’m just trying to keep it together in front of the kids. I feel numb.” I knew I’d said that before, but I had to try to explain my lack of emotion. “I can’t lose it.”

  The man looked at me like he had seen and heard it all before, and maybe he had.

  “It’s a pandemic,” he said. “Nirvana. Terrible stuff. Killing dozens every day. I’m sorry to say this, sir, but it’s not unusual, even in suburbia, even for rich families.”

  “I knew my wife drank,” I said. “I’m not being disloyal by telling you that—the evidence is there, she’s been to rehab a few times. But I never knew she did drugs.” Which was true. Until Shasta told me, I’d had no idea.

  “You should check the house to see that there aren’t any drugs or drug paraphernalia that the children could find,” Mr. Mullet said. “You realize I have to ask you about your eyes,” he added, and he motioned one of the medics over.

  “I woke up like this,” I explained as the man examined me. “I have been working long hours on a new campaign and work’s been very stressful. Could it be that?”

  The paramedic shook his head. “It’s a subconjunctival haemorrhage. The cause isn’t always known, and I haven’t seen it in both eyes like this. Tell me, sir, have you had any violent coughing fits, powerful sneezing, straining, vomiting? Have you rubbed your eyes or experienced any trauma to the eyes, such as the insertion of a foreign object into them?” The man sounded like a robot. I looked at him closely. Nope, he was real.

  I shook my head. “No to all of them.” I pulled my shirt sleeve down low. The last thing I needed was for anyone to see the bandage on my left wrist. They’d think I tried to kill myself and that’d be the end of all my plans. I could always tell them the tattoo got infected.

  “And do you suffer from either of the following: diabetes or high blood pressure, also known as hypertension? Do you take any blood-thinning medications, such as Warfarin, Coumadin, Jantoven or aspirin? Do you have a blood-clotting disorder?”

  “What? No, I don’t. No to any of them. Look, I’m fine. I have to see if my kids are okay. I’ll get this checked out later with my optometrist. Please, this doesn’t matter now.”

  I went over to see Bax and Sophie. Bax looked at me warily while Sophie hugged me unreservedly. “I know my eyes are funny,” I said to Bax, but I knew it wasn’t that, it was that I’d hit Celeste. “Buddy, come here, Daddy loves you so much. Things have been a bit tough, Bax. Life’s not easy, kiddo. Please, come give Daddy a hug, okay?” He did, wrapping his arms around me, and I buried my face in him, my other arm still clinging to Sophie. These little guys. I got all choked up and was about to start howling, which would have really scared them, but then Mother arrived.

  I wiped my eyes gently, wishing the eyeball thing hadn’t happened as it called unwanted attention to myself, but I’d have to live with it.

  Mother took charge, and the SSOs removed Celeste’s body and left. Mother had brought an overnight bag. “I’m here for you, Sharps,” she said. “As long as you and the children need me.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” I said. “And I know it’s really bad timing, but I have to go into work.”

  “You go,” she said, waving a hand around. “I’ll clean up.” She paused. “Sharps, I need to tell you something. Something I’ve been keeping from you for a long time.” She took a deep breath. “Your father and I stole you. I wanted a baby so badly and I couldn’t have one. So your father went and stole you. I don’t really remember if it was him or me who chose you. There was a home for unwed mothers in a place called No Daddy Street. The locals called it that. We figured that we’d give a child a better home than a young, teenage mother, so I got a job in the kitchen there. The place was a revolving door, and hardly any fuss was raised when a baby went missing. There were dozens of babies like you. No one kept track of the girls—they came and went how they liked—so after you disappeared, they just figured they had miscounted or the girl and her baby had left.”

  “Didn’t my real mother make a fuss? Surely she would have said something?”

  Mother shook her head. “For some of those girls, their baby going missing would have been a relief. Most of them opted to have their babies adopted, and they got out of there as soon as they could. The place was a birthing stable, and like I said, it was hard to keep track. Some girls left as soon as their babies were born, so again, it wasn’t that strange a thing to happen.”

  No Daddy Street. The origins of my illustrious beginnings, born to a teenage girl who didn’t care about me. Stolen by a man who was damaging and cruel. But Mother had always loved me in her own inimitable way. I knew that was true. I’d hated her when she booted me out, but I knew she had done it for my own good. I hated her when she rejected Celeste, but she’d been right about that too. She had always cared while I’d only felt judged and lacking. Which wasn’t on her. It was on me, I saw that now. I was the one filled with self-loathing, not Mother. And I’d felt vindicated when she had seemingly withdrawn from my life, but that was just good old angry me finding yet another thing to be angry about.

  I went to her and hugged her, and she held me close. “Thank you, Mother.”

  I ran upstairs and emptied the contents of Celeste’s pink shoe box into a gym bag, grabbed my keys, kissed the kids, and left. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I shouted.

  43. AND TO JAZZA’S WE GO

  I WAS TIRED AS FUCK. I SAT IN MY CAR. One down, one to go. I looked at my eyes in the rearview mirror. I looked like something out of a horror movie. And maybe it was the adrenaline wearing off, but my whole body was aching, like a giant-sized flu bug had jumped up and bitten me in the ass.

  I got to Jazza’s building and hauled myself to the elevator. My face was slick with oily stinging sweat. Shit. Come on, body, hold it together. I leaned on the wall as I made my way to Jazza’s door.

  He was waiting for me, his arms folded. “You look fucking terrible, man,” he said. “And by the way, fyi, why would I kill myself or anybody else? Weird fucking message, man. I suppose you want to know why I did it? Why I set you up so damn bad?”

  But I shook my head. “I don’t care why. But you are going to fix this.”

  “Or what, big man? You’re going to kill me? Ha ha, you couldn’t kill a fruit fly.”

  “That’s because I like fruit flies more than I like you,” I said. “You are going to flash a breaking news alert to Integratron Universal and tell them you did it. Repeat the alert, with alarm bells code black.” In other words, the loudest. We all had access to send breaking news to Integratron Universal, in case of emergency. We each had one code, one shot at saving the world. Or, in this case, saving my ass.

  “Am not!”

  “Are so!” I punched him hard in the gut with all my weakened feeble force, and he, taken by surprise, doubled over, wheezing. “And you know why you will, Jazza baby? Because there, on your portable comm, is the evidence I need. I know it’s there. Bank transactions, you name it. And if I need to kill you to get it, I will. All your comm souvenirs are there. Sure, I signed off on the money, but I thought it was for a marketing campaign. You’re the one who pressed the TRANSFER button for your bitch, Ava. Let’s not forget that. That’s why you’re going to send the alert.”

  He stared at me. I could see the ones and zeros of his brain trying to flush out a solution, but he came up empty.

  “I’m going to stand behind you,” I said. “But first, you see this?” I showed him a syringe of
Nirvana I had taken from Celeste’s sho box. “I’m going to jab you with it if you make the slightest move. But before we even do that, tell me, don’t show me, tell me where you keep your gun.”

  “Gun? Ha ha, you’re nuts today, Sharps,” he joked, but his eyes flashed over to a faux-Peruvian wooden box on the coffee table.

  I reached over and I flipped it open. I grabbed the gun and the silencer that was inside, keeping an eye on him all the while. “I’m scoring everywhere today,” I said. “Must be my lucky day. I should buy a FeathersFromHeaven lottery ticket, what with all this luck that I’m having, and go and live on a Real Life beach. So now I’m double armed—how cool is that? I tell you what, Jazza, let’s send the world a bunch of proof, so get your shit together.” I checked the time. It was nearly three thirty, and I had to hurry.

  Because I had to go back to my future, I had no choice. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to just stay here. I had asked Sting Ray Bob if there was a way for me to stay in past present time when I went back, but he’d said no. He’d said I didn’t have to jump but once I had, I had no choice but to come back. I’d thought about digging the gadget out, but I had the feeling that that wouldn’t work. The gadget owned me, and Janaelle and the others were in control. This wasn’t real time. I had to get back to real time and figure out how to join the two timelines. Sting Ray Bob had yet to explain how that would work.

  “Pick up the pace buddy, okay? Capchas, transactions. Let’s get moving.”

  By four thirty the comm had been sent and by that time, I could hardly move. I had to get out of there before Jazza attacked me. He probably didn’t realize it, but he could have swatted me with a feather duster and I would have fallen over.

  “I’m going to have to lock you in that closet,” I said, motioning. “Come on, in you go. It won’t take you long to break out. Go on, in you go.”

  He went in reluctantly, the gun at his back. I locked the door, picked up the portable comm, and fled. Well, fled is an exaggeration. I stumbled, hobbled, limped, and practically crawled to my car. Five p.m. I needed to hide until I went back.

  But first I had to message Mother.

  I can’t explain this but I need a day to fix things. Please don’t lose faith in me Mother. I need u to stand by me.

  She got back to me right away.

  Don’t worry, Sharps. I’m always here for u. In all possible worlds.

  It was one of the weirdest, most loving things she had ever said to me. I’d take it.

  And then I waited, wondering how bad it would be this time.

  44. JANAELLE HAS SOME ’SPLAINING TO DO

  STING RAY BOB WAS READY FOR ME on the other side. He and Jaxen carried me out of the subway and into a waiting van. They hooked me up to IV bags and covered me with a weighted blanket, and I knew everything was going to be okay. My kids were safe with Mother. Celeste was dead. I had cleared my name. I could finally rest. Jazza was alive, which would hopefully score me points with OctoPuss.

  When I came to, I was lying in a camp bed and the rain was pouring outside. I sat up, groggy. Jaxen and Sting Ray Bob were slouched in old-fashioned canvas camping chairs. I pushed myself up on one elbow. “How long was I out for this time?”

  “Four days,” Sting Ray Bob said. “You were depleted, one percent activity. We could hardly boot you up. You’re lucky you’re not dead.”

  I looked around. “Why are we in a tent and not in the fancy lab? I hadn’t figured you guys for campers. I know I’m not. Not that I’m being ungrateful, but this isn’t the five-star luxury I’ve come to know, love, and expect.”

  “Well, kiddo, this shit’s about to get real!” Jaxen said, cheerfully. “Here’s the thing, we’ve got a bit of ’splaining to do, as they say. Let’s go back in time. Do you remember when you guys were on your way to St. Adrian’s, the very first time?”

  “Of course. It was Knox, Norman, me, and Shasta.”

  “Affirmative. And you stopped to get supplies—junk food for Shasta mainly—and you pulled over in the parking lot for a quick forty winks?”

  “I didn’t remember, but now that you mention it, yes, I do, vaguely.”

  “When you woke up, it was actually two days later. You probably didn’t notice a heavy-load transporter truck parked near you? Of course not; there were a bunch of them. One of them was ours. We kept you three inside, drugged and sedated. We implanted electro-magnetic optical, auditory, and sensory chip cards into your brains to reprogram what you saw. We did it to Shasta and Knox too and took them along for the ride right up till the sherry tomato soup had been shared and the grilled cheese bread broken, then we kicked them to the curb and sent them back to St. Polycarp. Following that, we inserted the electromagnetic semiconductor that you needed for time travel.”

  “That’s impossible!”

  “What, the chip cards or the electromagnetic semiconductor or the fact that we kept you drugged for three days?”

  “All of them. But mainly the chip cards.”

  “It’s much less complicated than you might think. OctoOne wrote the scripts for it, and we implanted them. How do they work? The cards, tinier than you can imagine, fire impulses in the brain that make you think what you see, hear, taste, and touch are all real.”

  “Impossible.” And yet … Daddy … and Mummy … and Celeste. They were holograms of their younger selves, or selves that they wanted the world to see. I’d realized that, so why was this so astounding? Because this was an entire world, not just a person. These were relationships. This was more than a bio-genetically enhanced body and facial suit that absorbed light rays and reflected a handpicked doll self, like an avatar come to life.

  “It changed the visuals. For example, the lab. This,” Sting Ray Bob gestured outside as he spoke, “this is the lab. What you saw—the high tech building, the lab with all the technicians in white—doesn’t exist. This is the reality.”

  “No shit! I don’t believe it!”

  “I thought you might say that,” Jaxen said, and he took out a micro-programmer. “Hold onto your panties, big boy, this is going to blow your mind.”

  He typed onto the screen and paused. “When I press enter, the world as you know it will change radically.”

  “Come on already,” I said. He pressed enter and next thing, we were back in the lab. I was in my room, on my bed, in my white sweatpants that I most certainly had not being wearing seconds earlier. “But it’s real,” I said, grabbing the coverlet. “Feel it!”

  I got up and felt the wall. It felt real. “But the space! This room is three times the size of the tent! And the light is different, and it even smells different!”

  “All data that’s being fed to your brain. An alternate reality created by planting new circuitry into your synapses.”

  “Turn it off,” I said. “Please turn it off.” He did, and we were back in the tent. “But how do I know this is real and you’re not messing with me?”

  Jaxen laughed. “Seriously, Sharps, do you think we’d choose to live in a leaking canvas tent when we could be residing in a state-of-the art palace designed by an architectural genius?”

  “But you’ve got all the money that Jazza stole for Ava for you guys!”

  “Yes, we do, and OctoOne’s got plans to rebuild down the line, but first she wants the world to recalibrate. In the meantime, and that means for at least a decade, the money’s going towards scientists monitoring the world, and creating data banks of information, as well as support for farming and fishing. Basically taking stock of where things are at. How many animals are left? We need to take inventory of the forests. Can the oceans be revived? Things like that. And what else is out there? Anything new? The world has to be mapped again just like it was centuries ago because we’ve destroyed so much. So the money, as large a sum as it was, is just a drop in the bucket of what’s needed to get Mother Earth back on track. Thankfully, we’ve got so
ldiers in every cell of Integratron Global and our reserves are pretty big.”

  A thought occurred to me. “What else isn’t real?”

  “That, buddy, is the million-dollar question. All shall be revealed, and we apologize in advance for any inconvenience that this experiment has caused you.”

  “Experiment?”

  “Yes. And you succeeded where many others have failed! You should be very proud of yourself! And before you ask, yes, your kids are alive, Celeste is dead, and Jazza is alive. Your mother is looking after the kids.”

  “Where does Mother think I am?”

  “She thinks Jazza shot you. You’re in the hospital in a coma.”

  “What? That’s impossible. You can’t implant optical transfers or whatever into anyone you feel like! How did you get her to believe that?”

  Jaxen sighed. He was clearly getting tired of my stupidity. “Sharps. Come on. The SSOs told her not to go to the hospital because you were in a medically-induced coma, which she believed. So your absence is taken care of, and she is looking forward to your healthy return, which will be soon.”

  “And who are you guys, really?”

  “We are The MosaliTitans. A world army made up of international chapters including the Eden Collective and the World Wide Warriors. Mosali means ‘women’ in Sesotho. We took our lead from the women in Real Life South Africa who wanted a party that really represented the people. That’s our flag.”

  I looked up at a black flag with a large white acorn, crisscrossed by a sword and a rifle with a tiny crescent moon and a star to the right. It looked Islamic and yet African at the same time.

  “And it all went according to plan,” Sting Ray Bob added. “Although, we admit that the early timing of the Kickstart Evolution was a surprise. It wasn’t supposed to have happened for a while, but, c’est la vie. OctoOne said it was better anyway. She said she’d heard the rumours that Minnie was getting wind that the Evolution was coming and so better safe than sorry to get a jump on the reboot.”