by A J Jameson
“Reading all the articles in the world won’t erase your guilt,” Little Eye said.
“I’m not guilty, they are,” Axel said. He glanced at the monitor displaying his should-do list. “Life is good,” he read aloud. “Not as in the quality of one’s life, but just life. And these people barely acknowledge the loss of life.”
“It is because they’d rather acknowledge the saving of lives,” Little Eye said.
Axel sniffed to activate his MI. Melancholy. Honesty. “If they’re going to acknowledge life, they should also acknowledge death.”
“They did. They spoke of the few that died so that many could live.”
“I don’t believe in that. You shouldn’t have to take in order to give.” Axel closed the article and news feed. He leaned back in his chair and searched the overhead hamster tubing for Tiny Feet. Would he sacrifice his hamster for the lives of three hamsters? His immediate answer was no. He knew and loved Tiny Feet, and the other three hamsters were strangers. Would they act well-behaved around Tiny Feet, or would they treat him like an outcast?
And then he realized that the scenario was impractical. Tiny Feet wouldn’t be sacrificed for the sake of other hamsters. That would be like terrorists being sacrificed for the sake of other terrorists. But then again, a cop could be sacrificed for other cops, and people would call him a hero. The two groups were intrinsically different.
So Tiny Feet wouldn’t die for hamsters. He’d die for something higher in value. Bigger in size. Say, a human. One Tiny Feet for three humans? The answer should be yes, according to Axel’s Life-is-Good should-do list, yet he found himself reluctant to save three strangers in exchange for his hamster. After all, what if those three strangers were terrorists? What if they were police officers? Or worse yet, what if they were C3U members? Or Banshee? Would he kill Tiny Feet for Jordan? Yes. No question.
“Dwelling on the losses—”
“I’ve moved on,” Axel said, cutting off Little Eye. “I still think all life is important.” He wasn’t sure why he said the last bit, but it somehow felt necessary. “Any updates on C3U, or Banshee?”
“Negative on both accounts.”
Axel threw his hands up in frustration. Then he let paranoia get the better of him. He sniffed. Honesty. Boredom. “I can relate,” he said.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite understand your last statement.”
“I’m going out.” Axel approached his device bench. Did he need to bring his metal-detecting eyeglasses or cell phone sweeper?
“Where are you going?” Little Eye asked.
“I don’t know. For a walk. I’m bored, like you.”
“Why don’t you call your parents? You haven’t heard from them this week.”
Tiny Feet scurried through the green-tinted portion of his tubing, crossing atop the front door. Did Axel check his food and water today? He was almost 100% sure that he did, but decided to take another glimpse, anyway.
“I don’t want to call them. It might give them the false impression that I want to speak with them twice a week, instead of once, which is already a little overwhelming.” The hamster’s water was half empty. Axel freed the bottle and made for the kitchen.
“You know they don’t have a checklist reminding them to call you each week, right?”
Axel opened the refrigerator and took out the purified water pitcher. He unscrewed Tiny Feet’s water dispenser and topped it off. “Yeah. I also understand that they don’t need lists like me, either.” He returned the pitcher.
“That wasn’t my intended message. To be blunt, they call you because they want to. They’re a support system that holds you steady, but you must attend to the infrastructure to keep the bond strong.”
Tiny Feet’s water replenished, Axel had a follow-up urge to give instead of take. He walked back to his device table and set his MI down between the eyeglasses and phone sweeper.
Little Eye’s voice flowed through the speakers at his workstation. “What are you doing, Axel?”
“I told you. I’m going out, and I’m leaving my MI.”
“Please don’t,” Little Eye said. “You’re not ready yet.”
“I am ready. It’s a new week and I’ve made progress.” Axel disabled his automated home-defense system. “Turn them back on as soon as I leave. I’ll knock nine times to let you know it’s me.”
Butterflies tickled the inner walls of his stomach as he walked through the front door and down the few steps of his stoop. An eruption of commotion came rumbling forward: cars driving, idling, and beeping as they cruised the busy street; crosswalk signals sounding off for the sake of those visually impaired; and one angry voice, derisively announcing its disapproval of another’s driving ability.
All these noises and sounds came from the main road to Axel’s left, leaving the impression that nothing existed to the right. But when he turned that way, he saw life: a person walking a pair of dogs; a jogger in tight-fitting athletic wear and sunglasses; and a couple carrying bags in from the grocery store, all quiet in their own tasks.
Axel wanted to spark a conversation, but he couldn’t decide which group would have the highest potential for success. And then fate decided for him. The jogger had overtaken the person walking the dogs and was headed straight for Axel.
What’s an appropriate topic for discussion? Axel scrutinized the guy’s attire. An emblem was threaded into the shirt over his right breast, but it was too small to distinguish. What shirt is that, maybe we shop at the same store? The guy had an orange sweatband wrapped around his head. I hate it when my forehead sweats too much? Axel’s heart began pumping fast. The guy was getting close enough for Axel to see himself in the runner’s sunglasses.
Yes, the glasses! People loved talking about the weather. “A great day for soaking up vitamin D,” Axel sputtered.
The guy smiled, did a little wave thing with his hand, and kept running toward the busy end of the street. Axel made the mistake of turning about to watch him go. The sounds of cars driving, crosswalks chirping, and people walking/running flooded his sensory processing centers. The overload nearly caused him to flee back into his house. It was always easier for him to focus on one task at a time. But left without a singular purpose, it was like parachuting over an ocean; no landing in sight.
He didn’t retreat into his home. The thought of Little Eye’s assertion that he needed an MI to effectively interact with society wouldn’t allow him. She wouldn’t tease him about it…being a menace wasn’t part of her character. Well, except for blackmailing him for money transfers. Other than that, she acted as Axel’s eyes, ears, and most importantly, voice.
Avoiding the busy end of the street was the difference between being a coward and being courageous. He took his first step. And then his second.
He did this until he was fully immersed in the chaos. He initiated conversations with people. Talked about the weather. About hamsters. About when it was okay to sacrifice a hamster. Asked what they thought about those people blown to bits in the underground subway. And then more weather. Eventually, he found a person who talked back.
She wore clothes ill-fitting of her stout body. Some of her teeth were missing, and the way her mouth moved when articulating her words gave the impression it had been unhinged in the past. Axel recoiled when she spoke to him, her breath harsher than half-processed compost. “Hi, how are you?” she asked, rubbing her belly and continuing before Axel could answer. “It’s so hot out here and I’m pregnant, and I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
It was hot outside. And the baby would explain her wide figure. “Hunger can be detrimental to a baby’s development,” Axel said.
The woman nodded eagerly. She understood, and Axel understood her. “I wouldn’t be out here, begging for food if my abusive husband didn’t push me out of the house and lock me out.”
Axel opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of a motor revving prevented him from saying anything. It came from a motorcycle, Axel noticed, speeding down the sidewalk. T
he rider wore dark clothing from head to toe, his face hidden behind a tinted visor.
“If you could lend me some money,” the woman began, but she, too, was overtaken by the bike zipping past them. It made a hard left at the corner and then braked next to a police car waiting at the light.
Axel was already made tense by the bike’s reckless driving, but now it was on the wrong side of the road as well! He felt obligated to take out his cell phone and snap a picture of the bike’s license plate. But then he felt foolish, the biker sitting idle next to a cop car, engaged in conversation. And what was the reason for Axel’s being outside, if not to make conversation and connect with people?
A soft cough came from the pregnant homeless woman, the burning fumes causing Axel to take another step back. “I think I’m catching a cold. That can’t be good for the baby, right?”
“Oh no, not good at all,” Axel agreed, and pulled out his wallet. He handed the woman a twenty-dollar bill. “That should cover cold medicine and a decent meal.”
The woman’s eyes lit up, doubling in size. Then she squinted, her smile growing wider as she assessed Axel. He was pleased with her reaction. “I’m glad you’re happy now,” he said, then fumbled for his cellphone as the police siren sounded off, the motorcyclist ripping down the sidewalk at a dangerous speed.
Axel recorded the license plate in his phone’s notes: CEE30. Whoever the driver was, they were putting innocent people’s lives at risk, including his or her own.
“Do you think maybe, that, you know, if the baby gets hungry in the middle of the night,” the pregnant woman was saying.
“I’ve never taken care of a baby before,” Axel said, “and I’ve never been pregnant, so I’m not sure exactly how to feed a baby during the night if that baby is still inside your body.”
His phone started vibrating and he was surprised to be relieved it was Little Eye. He answered. “Do you have anything on that biker?”
“I don’t know anything about a biker. I’m calling to see if you’re ready to come home.”
“No,” Axel said, feeling a bit disrespectful for neglecting the pregnant woman, who started to walk away when he had answered the phone, but then turned back again after passing a severe coughing fit. “I’m not ready to come home yet. I’m currently alleviating the financial burden of a citizen.”
“What financial burden?” Little Eye asked. “What citizen?”
“Do you think that maybe I could have another twenty for tomorrow’s food?” the pregnant woman asked.
Axel handed her a twenty. “A pregnant woman who’s sick and currently kicked out of her house by her abusive husband.”
The pregnant woman’s eyes lit up like they had when Axel gave her the first bill. He was stunned by how easily she extracted joy from such a small amount of currency. When her eyes narrowed into a squint, Axel got greedy and gave her another bill. “Also,” he spoke to Little Eye, “I have the license plate of a reckless motorcyclist I need you to track down. The cops are already chasing him.”
“One thing at a time,” Little Eye said. “What does this pregnant and abused person look like? Describe to me her clothing and physical appearance.
Axel forfeited a twenty before the woman’s eyes could get a chance to squint. “She has a huge smile, is missing several teeth, overweight by at least sixty pounds, five-foot-six.” Axel quickly shoved another twenty into the woman’s hands and her eyes widened again, except this time no sparkle of happiness entered her expression. He offered his last bill before she could leave, stalling her long enough to continue his report. “Red blouse with two small stains above her left breast, jean shorts…” but the woman was running away, frightened. “Thanks a lot, you made me scare her.”
“Then I’ll assume she wasn’t in desperate need of help,” Little Eye said. “As for the reckless driver, I found two addresses matching the license plate.”
“Excellent. What are they?”
“Come home and link up.”
“No,” Axel said. He left the busy street, headed in the direction of his home. “’I don’t need to link up, I’m already in the field. It doesn’t make sense to backtrack.”
“Surveillance, public files, and the speeder’s criminal history are all available back home,” Little Eye said.
“I don’t need any of that. I just want to ask him why he was speeding.”
“What if he lies?”
“I’ll know.” Axel stopped walking in front of his stoop. Everything Little Eye had mentioned did sound enticing. And it was always a smarter play to plan ahead. “I’m getting proficient at reading people.” He checked his watch. It would soon be Jordan’s time for recess. The two hadn’t seen much of each other since Axel’s failed attempt to adopt him. The lady at Jordan’s school explained that it was due to Axel’s “erratic behavior,” whatever that meant, considering that his MI interpreted her tone as Condescending and Disdainful.
“I know you want to understand people, Axel, but you need your MI to be most efficient,” Little Eye said. “How much money is in your wallet?”
“None,” Axel said, not having to check.
“Are you sure that the homeless woman was pregnant?”
“Yes, of course. People don’t lie about that kind of stuff. There’s nothing to be gained. Why? Do you think she was pregnant?”
“No, I think she was lying in order to evoke sympathy from you and empty your wallet,” Little Eye said. “And you gave her all one-hundred dollars.”
Axel sniffed, then remembered he didn’t have his MI. And then it hit him all at once. He’d known Little Eye for three years, and still couldn’t interpret her language as truthful or devious. How could he ever expect to know the intentions of a stranger? And better yet, how did Little Eye know that he had given all his money to the pregnant woman? Sure, he had told Little Eye about giving the woman money, but he never disclosed the amount of cash. “How did you know how much money I gave her?”
“Look over your shoulder at the intersection of Artifact and 12th street.”
Axel did.
“Do you see the traffic camera?”
Axel didn’t respond. He disconnected the conversation with Little Eye and continued down 12th street, toward Jordan’s school. His phone vibrated. It was Little Eye. “Give me the biker’s addresses,” he demanded.
“I’ll give you something better. The latest murder committed by Banshee.”
Axel froze in place. No longer did he hear the flow of traffic, the chirping crosswalk, or the police sirens in the distance. Nothing existed but the voice of Little Eye.
“Body of a middle-aged male found in the backseat of a car parked at the yacht harbor,” Little Eye said. “Five puncture wounds encircle the victim’s throat. And one more important detail, the man’s pants were around his ankles.”
“Pants found around his ankles,” Axel repeated. “That means Banshee might be—”
“A woman,” Little Eye finished.
“Not guaranteed,” Axel offered.
“No, but likely.” There was a pause, as if Little Eye expected Axel to say more. When he didn’t, she continued. “Come home. We’ll prep infiltration, gather evidence, and forward it to the right people. Axel, we need to be smart about this…”
Axel hung up the phone and knocked on his front door nine times.
Chapter 7
Marek’s knight fell to Law’s rook. A necessary sacrifice to save the queen, who, to be honest, probably shouldn’t have lived this long. She seldom survived past the game’s halfway point, trapped in an unavoidable position of sacrifice to save the king. Sometimes Marek was presented with the opportunity to kill Law’s queen; a lesson in deceit he had learned to resist.
Marek moved one of his two remaining pawns forward, placing Law’s rook in danger. “The autopsy is complete, and law enforcement is reaping the benefits. They’re heroes on every news station.”
Law sat like a statue with animatronic brown eyes. A minute later he made his move, takin
g Marek’s pawn with his bishop. “Good. They’ll get the funding they need along with an increase in public support.”
The countermove was obvious, being that Law’s bishop landed in the killing space of Marek’s final pawn. Too obvious. Why would Law sacrifice a bishop for a pawn? It didn’t make sense. They both had their queens left, a few pawns, and a rook on Law’s side. “So, is Bravo squad clear to proceed with Laced Rain, now that Dragon’s Throat is finished?” Marek asked.
Law cocked his head and examined the chess board. He took these games very seriously, ever since he introduced them to Marek ten years ago for his thirteenth birthday. Since then Law has gone almost undefeated, Marek pulling off a win maybe two dozen times. And most of them were within the past two years. Before that, he won only once, and he’s pretty sure it was because Law had let him.
Marek took the bishop with his pawn. His pawn died the next move. He answered by killing Law’s rook, and Law responded by advancing one of his three pawns. “Yes,” Law finally answered. “Bravo will be briefed and assigned to Laced Rain.”
Marek’s queen flew across the board to take out Law’s rear pawn. He had two pawns left, one of which was a single space away from promotion. Marek would have to kill them before they reached his side of the board. If not, the game was over.
“The quality of water feeding the city for public consumption has dropped below satisfactory levels,” Law said. “Our mission is to illuminate this issue so that it can be addressed.” He advanced the pawn closest to Marek’s side of the board and asked for a queen.
Marek didn’t bother replacing the pieces. Instead, he filled the space with his own queen. Only one pawn left, and then Marek could focus on knocking out Law’s rook. “And I understand that one of the mission parameters states to avoid casualties at all costs?” Marek asked.
“For now, focus on the mission statement,” Law said. “Illuminating the issue of contaminated public water supplies.” Law moved his queen in position to diagonally cover his last pawn.
