The Blind Spot

by Michael Robertson

  A silhouette moved across one of the house’s upstairs windows. An obsolete? Hard to tell. The gate opened a second later.

  Before she reached the front door, it too opened for her. After pushing it wide, Marcie entered the immaculate house. The familiar smell of polish and potpourri. She kicked her shoes off, her socks slipping against the buffed wooden floor leading to his room.

  A beautiful boy with striking blond hair, green eyes, and a mouth loaded with bright white teeth, Sal grinned at her entrance. The same age as Marcie, she’d known him her entire life. “I’m sorry I didn’t come yesterday.”

  His warmth fell from his face. “It was the first Sunday in eight years where you haven’t come to see me. The first Sunday”—he slapped his hands against his king-sized bed as if scolding it—“since I’ve been in this cursed thing.”

  “I’m sorry. Your dad’s probably told you I’m at the top table now?”

  The sides of Sal’s jaw widened from where he clenched his teeth. The perpetual motion of the machines spoke where he didn’t. Click. Whir.

  The air was so purified it made Marcie light-headed when she filled her lungs. “Pierre had to take me on a tour of the Blind Spot yesterday. Man, the number of johns and slack-jaws we saw. They’re everywhere! I can’t wait to move to the city.”

  Sal’s expression turned sour. Bad enough that she could do all the things he couldn’t. She could run, she could walk, she could breathe unaided. Click. Whir. All those things, yet she still felt miserable in the Blind Spot. The cylinders—Sal’s lungs—breathed for him, moving up and down with a steady rhythm. Click. Whir. She sighed.

  “Don’t you dare pity me,” Sal said. “You don’t get to do that.”

  “I’m not. I can be sad though, can’t I?” She wanted to say sad for us. Fucking cancer had taken away the life they’d planned. It had poisoned the memories of when they were young. Of happier times when they played together, ran through the house together, fought together. She looked at the picture on Sal’s bedside table from her fifth birthday. She and Sal were eating cake. Their parents were gathered around, smiling. Her mum wore the broadest grin of them all. Then back to Sal. Now he had cancer, her mum had been brutally murdered by an obsolete in her own home, and although her dad had finally released her, the part of him that had died with her mum would never return.

  The day her parents told her Sal wouldn’t be coming over to play anymore remained in her heart, the wound as deep now as it had been then. She’d asked what she’d done wrong, as if his lack of visits were a punishment to her. But then she saw Frankie sob. One of the meanest men she’d met, he wailed as if his soul was being torn from him. That day, she realised adults were people too.

  With the lung cancer Sal had, and with the medicine available in the Blind Spot, the only way to fix him was to remove his lungs completely and have him breathe with the aid of machines. Especially as no one could afford a set of lungs from Prime City.

  “So are you going to talk to me or what?” Sal said.

  Marcie shook her head to snap out of her daze. “Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.”

  “If you’d rather be somewhere else?”

  “Of course not.” Although she did have to go and see the Eye. “I missed you yesterday.” Marcie then walked over to his bed and sat on the edge, the mattress and thick red duvet soft beneath her. “So what’s been happening?”

  “I’ve been sitting here with no lungs. I’ve played every video game to death, and watched every television show and movie I can. Same as always.”

  Marcie dropped her attention to the plush blue carpet.

  “Yeah, fun life, I know. But what about you? A lot’s changed in the past week.”

  “Well, your dad’s pissed off with me for a start.”

  “I know.”

  “He told you?”

  “No, but it seemed pretty obvious. Something about the sneer on his face when he mentions your name.” Sal smiled. “You’re really chapping his arsehole at the moment.”

  “I think he worries I’ll tell you everything.”

  “You will, won’t you?”

  After a slight pause, Marcie said, “Dad said he wanted me to get to know the Blind Spot. Intimately. He said if I get to know the place and hate it as much as I do now, then I can move to the city.”

  When Marcie saw Sal’s lips tighten, she said, “I still want to take you with me.”

  “Come on, Marce, it was fun imagining it, but really? Can you honestly see me living in a city that doesn’t believe in cybernetics?” As he turned to look at one and then the other chrome cylinder behind him, he said, “My very existence depends on these fucking lungs. Also, when I’m bedridden, it doesn’t really matter where I live. Any view will get boring after a while. I need to be in the safest place for me. The place where I have the most support. You and I both know the city was just a pipe dream.”

  “Then why did you say you’d come with me? My plans for the city have always had you in them.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sal dropped his eyes. “I didn’t think it would be a reality for you either. I was humouring you.”

  “Not so funny now, is it?”

  “I guess not. At least we still have our trips through the city. You can still be the highlight in this cripple’s week.”

  Marcie got to her feet.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have something I need to do. I’ll make sure you get more trips through the city, okay? And I’ll be back soon.”

  Sal winced. “W-why don’t you stay a while longer?”

  “I have to do something for the top table.” She could hardly tell him the truth. Maybe he already had a hunch. He hadn’t asked where she’d got the information on the dead woman from, and she hadn’t told him. If he didn’t know, he didn’t have to conceal it from his dad.

  “Marce, what happened to that bolt you found by the cinema?”

  “Oh, it was nothing.”

  “It looked like a gold bolt. Like one of Wrench’s.”

  “Yeah, I thought that too, which is why I picked it up. But it wasn’t. Thank god.” Heat flushed her cheeks, and before she told him any more lies, she opened the door. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

  The second Marcie stepped out of Sal’s room, she froze. Frankie and Maria—Sal’s mum and dad—stood at the other end of the corridor.

  Marcie dropped her gaze and squeezed past them. “Thank you for having me, Mrs. Captain.”

  Mrs. Captain’s warmth stood in stark contrast to Frankie’s gruff edge. “You’re more than welcome. Anytime, my dear.”

  After exiting through the front gate, Marcie broke into a jog. She had to beat Pierre to the Eye’s workshop.

  Chapter 29

  The bus stop protruded from the edge of Wellbeing Square as a flat metal platform. Snow dusted its brushed steel surface. A cleaner moved from one side to the other with a broom. There were too many leather-soled shoes and high heels to allow it to settle. The bus hovered six inches above the platform, the engine speaker humming a continuous bass note. Nick joined half the passengers in getting to their feet to alight. He waited for Graham to go ahead of him. Bad enough he had to spend a day with the prick, he didn’t need to be walking into work with him too.

  But Graham had waited for him. Did the arsehole really want to gloat? To say he’d seen Nick looking into the Blind Spot like he thought about fucking a cyborg or getting whacked out on slack. He fished his phone from his pocket, stared at the screen, and moved over to the side. Graham got the message and fucked off.

  His mouth dry, his hand shaking, Nick opened the Wellbeing app. He’d only had nine lifts in the shower. Maybe there had been a technical problem. Two more flashed up. Better than none.

  The first one was from Jane. “I hope Nick’s had a good weekend. He deserves all the happiness he gets. He’s a good man.” Technically three lifts in one.

  Karla next: “Nick’s not a bad person. He
means well …” As her voice trailed off, Nick’s stomach clamped. He had to get to work. He couldn’t stand around moping in the bus stop all day.

  Nick’s left shoulder stung from where he collided with a commuter, the man tutting at him as he passed. Another one slammed into his right side a second later. A tight clench to his jaw, he dragged the minty air through gritted teeth and pushed on. Although a reliable way to travel, using public transport meant he had to endure the full force of rush hour as he crossed the square.

  Tension twisted through Nick, winding his entire body as tight as his jaw. His heart rate quickened when he passed the Wellbeing booth. The place used to raise his spirit, but he now sped up to get past it as Wellbeing Warren shouted through his loud hailer about the latest updates. The square had been cleaned up, a new booth installed, and it now had three red and yellow drones all emblazoned with Wellbeing Incorporated hovering above it. If anyone visited the square today, they’d be none the wiser about the attack. The sooner the city rolled over the Blind Spot, the better.

  After several more collisions on his way to his office, Nick stumbled through the front door, closing it behind him and panting as he held it shut. A few seconds to allow everything to settle, he wiped the damp and cold weight of snow from his hair and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

  The first time in months where he hadn’t kicked the door open to announce his entrance, Nick slipped into the office. The three ladies from accounts were all huddled close by. He did his best to return their smiles.

  Graham sat at his desk with a steaming mug. He beamed a grin at Nick. Just because they rode the same bus to work, they weren’t fucking friends now. Before Nick could tell him as much, Adam stepped from around the corner. Five feet six inches at the most, he threw his arms wide and said, “Hey, hey.”

  On any other day, Nick would have laughed and probably joined in. Adam’s frame sank and he hooked a thumb in the direction of the coffee room. “Um, can we have a chat, please, mate?”

  Adam shut the door behind them with a click, the rich reek of coffee in the air.

  “Honestly, I’m okay,” Nick said. “You don’t need to pussyfoot around me. I just need a few days.”

  “Uh … has something happened?”

  “You don’t know?”

  Adam shook his head.

  The first time he’d said it aloud, Nick’s world blurred behind his tears and his mouth buckled. “Karla’s left me. Her and Bruce have been fucking each other for months now.”

  Ten to fifteen minutes later, Adam released a hard exhale, his cheeks puffing. “That’s rough, mate. I’m so, so sorry.” He wrapped Nick in a tight hug.

  A wet sniff, Nick rubbed his stinging eyes. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For listening.”

  “Hey, no problem, man. What are friends for?”

  And they were friends. He’d not lost everything. Despite his pain corroding him from the inside, it would pass, and when it did, he’d have people like Adam around to help him move on.

  Chapter 30

  Out of breath, her legs twitching as they wound down, Marcie entered the Eye’s workshop and flicked off her anonymity mask. The snowfall had made her hair damp. “How do you work in all this mess?”

  The Eye snorted awake and spun around, drawing his gun and levelling it on her in one fluid movement.

  Her lungs still working overtime, Marcie raised her hands. Thick black bags beneath his blood red eyes, the Eye blinked repeatedly as if struggling to see her at first.

  “Is this where you sleep?” She stepped closer.

  The Eye spoke, his voice groggy. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Lower that gun and I’ll tell you.”

  Any trace of tiredness gone, his wide eyes flitted from her to the doorway behind her. He jabbed his gun in her direction. “Where are they?”

  “Who?”

  “Daddy’s mates. You’re here to sell me out, right?”

  “No. Now put the gun down.”

  The Eye kept his gun trained on Marcie, and her deep sigh did little to settle her pulse. “We need to talk.”

  “About what? The way I see it, you’re here to screw me over. And if that’s true, and if you are stupid enough to come here on your own”—he stamped on the metal hatch by his feet, a loud boom echoing through the hollow space it concealed—“I’ll end you and leave you to rot in the basement.” Now he’d woke up, the twitch she’d seen when they first met returned. His movements sharp and erratic as if he mainlined caffeine, he looked behind her again.

  “We need to talk about the other day.”

  “Do you know what happens when someone crosses your dad? Sure, he’s a fair man, but he won’t forgive me for breaking the rules of the Blind Spot. People’s anonymity should be protected unless he specifically asks me himself for the information. It’s less important for those in the city, but because of you, I’ve broken the rules, and he’s going to find out. Jesus, I don’t know why I did it. I suppose the number of credits made me greedy. If you’d have asked for the details of someone living in the Blind Spot, I would have run a mile.”

  “But you didn’t need to kill Horace.”

  “Bit late for being on first-name terms with him, wouldn’t you say? Besides, you tricked me; shame on me for that. He betrayed me. You think I can trust someone like that to keep their mouth shut if Wrench leans on him? If his own brother leans on him? Who do you think he’ll be loyal to? The only chance I have of staying alive is if I keep this from coming back to me.”

  Marcie’s body clamped so tight it had damn near turned brittle. The Eye remained on the metal hatch, but he lowered his gun. “Look, I’m sorry. You’ll have to forgive my jumpiness. Some little rat has me on the end of her hook, and I don’t know if I can trust her yet or not.”

  “You can trust me.”

  “Like I can trust you to bring more of Daddy’s friends to my workshop?”

  “I didn’t bring Pierre and Becky here. Why would I want you and them anywhere near one another? I don’t want them to know I needed information from you about someone in the city. Not yet.”

  “And you don’t want them to know you helped kill Pierre’s brother.”

  Marcie shifted where she stood as if she could somehow work the discomfort from her frame.

  “Just know I have something on you like you have something on me.”

  They both knew he had more to fear. “Look, whatever we have on one another, it doesn’t matter. I won’t tell anyone about the help you’ve given me. I just wanted to come here and make sure we’re cool. Are we cool?”

  Avian twitches ran through the Eye as he snapped his head to one side and then the other, twisting and turning it as if the different angles would give him a better perspective. “We’re cool.” The tension left his pale face. “You’ve got a lot on your mind, Marcie Hugo. Those slim shoulders are bearing an awfully heavy weight.”

  Her chest tightened. “There’s a lot going on.”

  “The terror attacks? Well, now you and I have an agreement, and seeing as I’m already as fucked as I can be with Wrench, I’d like you to consider me an ally. I’ll help you where I can. Especially if you have some way of preventing the war between us and the city. That ain’t going to end well for anyone. There’s only one condition: none of this makes it back to Daddy, okay?”

  “You don’t need—”

  “Shit!”

  In the silence that followed, Marcie heard it too. Pierre talking to someone outside.

  Gritted teeth, his red eyes on fire, the Eye said, “I thought you wouldn’t sell me out?”

  “I didn’t know he was coming. Honestly. I’ll have as many questions to answer as you if they find me here.”

  “I doubt that!” The Eye jumped aside and lifted the hatch in the floor. As slim as the narrow workshop, it revealed stairs leading down into darkness.

  When Marcie stared at the dungeon, the Eye said, “What are you waiting for
? Hurry up!”

  Against every atom of her will, Marcie stepped towards the dark hole, a waft of cold air rushing up at her. The darkness didn’t matter, she had night vision, but did she really want to voluntarily imprison herself at this man’s mercy? He’d called himself an ally; now she had to put that to the test.

  Without her night vision on, Marcie saw just the first three steps. Her lungs tighter than before, Pierre’s gruff cockney drawl closing in on them, she stepped into the hole.

  Marcie’s legs did the work for her as she descended, breaking cobwebs with her face. About halfway down, the hinges above her groaned and the basement turned dark. But her night vision didn’t come on. Of course it didn’t. If nothing else worked in this place, why would that?

  The tight space threw Marcie’s rapid breaths back at her. At the bottom of the stairs, she hit sandbags and nearly fell. They must have been there to soak up the excess moisture. The damp lay against her like a second skin, a chemical reek beneath the mouldy stench.

  The deliberate, heeled steps of Pierre then entered the workshop above. They were too far away for her to hear their conversation, and until the Eye opened the hatch again, she wouldn’t be able to see. He’d told her she had an ally, and damn, did she need one right now. Trust didn’t come easy, but she’d forced him to trust her, the least she could do was offer the same in return. The sandbags soft beneath her, she let her taut frame unwind and waited.

  Chapter 31

  Light flooded in as the hatch above finally opened. Marcie’s eyes adjusted to the change. The Eye stood as a silhouette at the top of the stairs. “It’s okay now.”