Ramble

by D. B. Goodin

  Scotty, what have you done?

  3

  Lenox Hill Hospital, New York City

  Friday, July 24th, 2071, 12:02 a.m.

  Alice woke to the sound of a heated conversation nearby. She could see the dark silhouettes of two intruders just inside her hospital room’s door.

  Alice reached for her visor. It was gone.

  Although the room was dimly lit, she could see one of the men was tall, and she thought she recognized him but couldn’t remember who he was. He was dressed in a suit. As the two figures moved closer, she saw a third figure approach the doorway: a nurse, judging by her outfit. The tall man appeared to get into a heated conversation with the nurse. Although their voices were low, Alice could make out some words.

  “Get out . . . no . . .” she thought the nurse said.

  “The police . . . her . . . I will . . .” the tall man’s voice said.

  An outline of the tall man came closer, and the nurse laid a hand on his shoulder. The second shorter man, who was wearing a hat, snuck up from behind the nurse, then put his hand over her mouth. She fought back and backhanded the second man before collapsing to the floor.

  “Was that necessary?” The tall, suited man said.

  “She’s not hurt, just down for a while,” the other man said as he hoisted her up. “I will store her over here, for safekeeping.”

  Alice watched in horror as the man carried the nurse to the bed next to hers. She closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. She heard someone come closer; she could feel his penetrating gaze. She opened her eyes. No sign of the mystery men.

  “Hello, Alice Parsons.”

  Alice sat up and looked in the voice’s direction, which had come from behind her, just out of her line of sight.

  “We haven’t been properly introduced,” the voice continued. “I’m Brenton Morris. Glad to make your acquaintance.”

  “Wha—how did you get in here?” Alice stammered.

  “The policeman that was guarding your room is having a fine meal on me. I treat my employees and associates well,” Brenton said.

  Alice looked around for something to defend herself with but found nothing. “What do you want?”

  Brenton chuckled. “I like people who are direct. I will pay you the same courtesy by being blunt. You have cost me a lot in a short time. You are facing some serious charges that may put you in prison for a long time.”

  Alice’s throat constricted. She tried forming a good comeback or curse word but couldn’t.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Brenton asked.

  “I had nothing to do with putting the bomb up there,” Alice said.

  “You may not have created or installed the EMP, but the police found you in its vicinity when it went off. I’m not sure if you realize it, but twenty-five people lost their lives that day. Hundreds were hospitalized. Not to mention the psychological issues that countless others will suffer.”

  Alice covered her face and rubbed her eyes for a long moment. Then she looked back at Brenton; he had an expression of delight. He looked like a proud father watching his kid perform in a school play.

  The bastard’s enjoying my torment, Alice thought bitterly.

  She said nothing, so Brenton continued.

  “A boy, perhaps five or six, witnessed his mother get flattened by a flying car that lost control. Those cars are nuclear-powered but rely on sensitive electronics to operate. When the EMP went off, it affected everything in a five-mile radius. If the police haven’t charged you already, it will be forthcoming.”

  Alice’s eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away.

  “If all of this is true, I don’t think I would be in this hospital room. I’d be in a cell,” Alice said.

  “The only reason you’re still here is because the police commissioner is a friend of mine and has kept the feds out of the way long enough for us to meet.”

  Alice ran her hands through her hair as she considered her next course of action.

  “My mother will help me get a lawyer. Also, my best friend’s husband is an attorney, and I’m sure he will help.”

  Brenton smiled. “Does he work for Parker and Sutherland? A great firm, but very expensive,” he said.

  Alice narrowed her eyes. “Forget it—I think I will take my chances on my own.”

  “I don’t want you as my enemy,” Brenton insisted. “I think we can do great things together—”

  “Like what? I will never work for you!” Alice interrupted.

  “Calm down, it’s not as bad as you think. I will even let you save face with your Purist friends. I have judges that are good friends—I could have you released in the morning. You wouldn’t have to stay with your friend any longer.”

  Alice noticed Brenton put an emphasis on the word “friend” and shuddered.

  “I have several nice apartments in Manhattan where you can live, and work. As one of my assistants, you will make more in a week than you made all year at your current job.”

  Alice rubbed her eyes, then looked out the window. She could see part of the street below.

  How could it all come to this?

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” she sighed. “What’s the catch?”

  “You just have to do one thing for me. I just need the names and locations of as many Purists that you can think of. But—you need not do that now. As a gesture of good faith, I will make sure you are discharged and delivered to one of my apartments.”

  Alice raised an eyebrow. “No fucking way that’s happening! I don’t trust you.”

  She noticed that the other man had moved closer to the door.

  “Relax,” Brenton said, “you will be accompanied by a member of law enforcement whose job it is to protect you. If it makes you feel any better, you can invite anyone you want to join you in your freedom. I have your best interests in mind.”

  Brenton leaned closer; Alice recoiled and tried shifting positions.

  He continued, “Your other option is being transported to a federal maximum-security prison. That’s after you’ve been thoroughly searched and interrogated. Did you know that terror suspects can be held indefinitely without being charged?”

  Alice turned away from Brenton. Tears rolled down her face. “Let me think about it, okay?”

  “Of course,” Brenton said. Then he removed something from a white gift bag. It was her visor. “Oh, I almost forgot. I took the liberty of repairing your visor and restoring your AI. Don’t worry, it’s not hacked.”

  Alice shot Brenton a glance. “Doris is back?” She took her visor from Brenton and put it on.

  “Hey, how you holding up, kid?” Doris said.

  Alice’s lips quivered.

  “I’ve been a lot better!” she said. “But it’s good to hear your voice.”

  “Please consider my generous proposal,” Brenton said. “It’s the best offer you’re going to get. See you in the morning.”

  Brenton and the man stationed at the door left.

  Lenox Hill Hospital, New York City

  Friday, July 24th, 2071, 8:02 a.m.

  “Alice, wake up—now!” Doris shouted.

  Alice awoke with a start. She couldn’t move her left arm; the police had handcuffed her to her hospital bed. One officer had her visor. She heard Doris speaking in the distance as she was taken away.

  Several uniformed police officers crowded in the hospital room. Alice didn’t recognize any of them. Then Officer Rollins entered the room and strode to her bed with a steely gaze of determination. The other officers parted as Rollins closed the distance with Alice. Other well-dressed men in suits gathered in one corner of the room, snatching glances at Alice as they spoke.

  “Rollins, what the fuck is this?” Alice said, trying to move her arm.

  “Alice Parsons,” he said, “you are under arrest—”

  One of the uniformed officers handed Rollins her visor.

  “What? Why?”

  “For committing an act of terrorism against the city of New York.”


  Alice felt a tight knot in her stomach.

  “You have the right to remain silent. We can use anything you say against you . . .”

  Everything else was a blur. A female officer assisted Alice in changing into her street clothes, then attached an oversized pair of electronic handcuffs across her wrists; she heard an audible beeping sound as they locked into place. An officer urged her toward the door.

  These handcuffs are loose, Alice noticed. What will happen if I try to get out of them?

  While being led out of the hospital room, Alice attempted to pull her right hand out of one cuff. White furious fire followed by numbness shot through her wrists and moved up her arm. To her surprise, her wrist was still in the handcuffs. Alice fell to her knees as the pain enveloped her.

  “Warning, prisoner escape attempt eminent,” an electronic voice said.

  Did that voice come from the handcuffs?

  Two police officers picked Alice up like she was a piece of luggage. Moments later, Alice was dragged from her room by the police-led escort. Just before the hospital entrance, she collapsed again. Outside, a throng of reporters thrusted handheld microphones in her face, and drones with cameras loomed overhead. Two burly police officers picked her up, then descended the ramp to a large unmarked van.

  The officers opened the back of the van and threw Alice into it, headfirst. She landed—hard.

  “Greetings, Ms. Parsons. Have you decided yet?”

  Alice looked toward the voice; it was Brenton Morris. He was seated on a sideways bench built into the side of the van.

  “How did you . . . get—”

  “You mean, how did I make my way into a police paddy wagon?” Brenton said with satisfaction. “I know people, and my money helps.”

  Alice regained her composure the best she could, then narrowed her eyes toward Brenton.

  “All I have to do is make a phone call, and the police will release you into my custody. My Manhattan apartment will be a lot more comfortable than a jail cell.”

  Alice kept glaring at Brenton.

  “Well, the officers won’t wait forever,” he said. “I asked for two minutes of your time—then they will take you to the precinct for booking. Eighty-two seconds remain.”

  “Fuck you.” Alice spat on Brenton’s loafers.

  Brenton took out a pocket-sized tablet, tapped something, and then before Alice could respond, a video played. It was a wide-angle shot of a small room. A man and a woman entered. The camera appeared to be placed on or near the floor, because Alice could see most of their bodies up until the neck. She couldn’t see their faces.

  “We did it, babe, she took the fall,” a man’s voice said.

  He sounds familiar . . .

  “Yeah, both literally and figuratively,” a woman’s voice replied.

  Their voices sound familiar . . .

  “I’ve already received my payday from the boss—let’s go out and celebrate!”

  “Come here, let me kiss that handsome face first.”

  The couple embraced.

  “I don’t want to see this,” Alice snarled. “Why the hell are you showing it to me?”

  “Just watch!” Brenton commanded.

  The couple dropped to the floor. She could now see their faces.

  Alice’s eyes widened. That’s Jamie!

  The woman shed her blouse, and Jamie closed in for another kiss. Brenton paused the video.

  Who’s that woman?

  “I bet you’re wondering who they are talking about. I will spare you the intensive moments of lovemaking that follow. But I think you will be interested in the pillow talk that follows.”

  Alice sat up to get into a more comfortable position, being careful not to let her hand slip through the cuffs again.

  “I’m sorry you have to wear those,” Brenton said as he pointed at the handcuffs.

  Alice sneered.

  He played the next video. The couple were on the floor—naked!

  “After tonight, you may not see me for a while,” Jamie said.

  “But you’re coming back, right?” the woman said as she rolled over.

  “Sure, babe,” Jamie said as he caressed her back.

  The woman was facing the camera now; it was Roxy’s daughter, Lucy!

  “Whose life are you going to ruin now?” Lucy asked.

  “The boss wants me to go down to Nashville to rattle this old man’s cage.”

  “Why?”

  “He sold his company to Brenton Morris, and the boss wants first dibs on any antique instruments that the old man has.”

  “Why is that important?”

  Jamie shrugged. “It’s not my place to question the boss—as long as he’s paying, that is,” he chuckled.

  Brenton stopped the video.

  “Are you with me?”

  Alice narrowed her eyes again.

  “I knew Jamie was up to no good!” she said.

  “Is that a yes?” Brenton asked.

  Alice stared at the handcuffs for a long moment. She felt trapped.

  “Yes, but you need to do something for me,” she told Brenton.

  “You’re not in any position to make demands, but I’m in a generous mood. Sure, what do you want?”

  “Access to my AI and full communications access. I want to talk with my mother—and Lindsey.”

  “Done.”

  “Anything else?”

  “All charges dropped. I did nothing wrong.”

  “Hmmm, that’s a big ask, but I will see what I can do.”

  “Do it or I won’t help you.”

  Brenton seemed to consider as he turned off the small tablet.

  “Sure—I promise that you will be a free woman,” he said. “But you will need to stand before a judge for appearances. There are many people who want to see someone punished for the EMP blast.”

  Alice furrowed her brow. “Punished? How?”

  “All sorts of ways. I’ve heard talk of the death penalty getting reinstated. I know I would want blood if my loved one was killed,” Brenton said.

  For a moment, his face became cold—distant.

  What are you doing, Alice? You can’t side with him. The robots will win, dummy!

  Brenton held out a hand. “Let’s shake on it.”

  Before Alice could respond, the back doors of the oversized van were flung open. One of the police officers climbed into the van and grabbed Alice by the arm.

  “A simple yes will suffice—you have two seconds,” Brenton said.

  “Never!” Alice said as they dragged her out of the van.

  Alice was thrown into the back seat of a police cruiser. The officers didn’t bother to fasten her belt. She attempted to get into a normal seated position, but the motion of the car slammed her into the seat. The officer in charge of transporting her was driving with malicious intent, weaving in and out of traffic and breaking traffic rules. At a red light, he slammed the breaks, and Alice flew into the front seat and smashed her face against it.

  “Hey, remember me back here? Slow the fuck down,” Alice said.

  “Shut your mouth, criminal,” the officer blurted.

  After several attempts, Alice got back into an upright position. Blood dripped from her nose.

  “I’m bleeding here. Your blatant disregard for prisoner safety is appalling.”

  The officer responded by making an abrupt left onto the 86th Street transverse: a road leading into Central Park.

  “I thought you were going to book me?” Alice said.

  “Taking you to the 22nd in Central park. There are some people interested in meeting you.”

  Alice watched the trees whip past as the officer drove down the narrow road at a speed that was way too fast. The officer slammed on his breaks again, grinding to a stop, but Alice avoided another collision by slamming her feet into the front seat; if the officer felt this, he didn’t react. Alice noticed a single-story stone building on the left side of the street with a faded sign labeled police; meanwhile, people were cr
ammed on the small sidewalks on both sides. Alice watched the crowd; it looked like they were lining up for a rock concert or movie. The police had closed one of the eastbound lanes with barricades, and traffic was being controlled with the single open lane. She made eye contact with an older woman standing at the curb, holding a framed picture of a young couple.

  “There she is!” the woman bellowed, pointing at Alice.

  A group of people rushed the police vehicle. Alice shrank back as a couple of dozen hateful eyes peered in at her. Soon the car was inundated; people were climbing on the hood and the trunk. Alice felt the vehicle begin to rock.

  “What the fuck!” Alice yelled.

  The officer put on the siren and started rolling forward again. Some people jumped or fell off the car as it pulled into the precinct parking lot. Alice noticed fence barricades on the perimeter of the parking lot that prevented pedestrian traffic.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “Dammit, someone blabbed,” the officer said.

  “About what?” Alice asked, confused.

  “The commish thought it was best to transport you to this precinct because of its isolation, but someone leaked it because there’s a shitload of people here.”

  Moments later, another officer opened Alice’s door and pulled her out of the vehicle. A group of people behind the barricades cheered; another group booed. Alice looked in the direction of the cheers. Several police officers were lined up with body armor and protective helmets. It looked like they were trying to keep the crowds away from the station.

  Are these people here to save or kill me? Or both?

  The officers rushed her between two buildings, then stopped outside the precinct’s two double doors. Alice felt something hit her head.

  “Ow, fuck!” she yelped. Moments later, the crowd began pelting her with trash, eggs, bottles, and other unidentifiable substances that resembled vomit. She reeked of garbage.

  Then Alice turned her head around and saw something that made her knees buckle. A group of children were standing behind a gap in the fence; some of them, just old enough to stand, were still throwing objects in her direction, occasionally striking her.