The Way Things Seem

by Mackey Chandler

  “You’re a material witness to a homicide!” she suddenly decided.

  David just looked disappointed in her.

  “Is that what happened?” he asked.

  “What else could you call it?” she demanded.

  “Karma?” he asked.

  For some reason that made her shudder all over.

  “I’m going to report to my superiors,” she announced suddenly. “You will be put in a conventional holding cell, not in general population for your protection.”

  David couldn’t help smiling at that.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you will cooperate,” she warned, suddenly brave again.

  And they thought he was crazy, David pondered after she left.

  * * *

  The new cell had a single cantilever bed that was the only place to sit in the room besides the indestructible stainless steel toilet. It had a firm foam covering that safely wrapped around the edges with no covers or pillow. There was a raised hump in the foam at one end David supposed must serve as a pillow. The sink was tiny with a nozzle toward the rear that supplied luke-warm water if you put your hands in front of it, or cold water at a sharper upward angle in drinking fountain mode if you leaned over it. There was no soap or toilet paper.

  The walls were a pebbly plastic that David could not describe as purple or pink exactly. He suspected it was a new improved color to induce passive behavior. The lights in the ceiling were tiny LEDs too bright to look at so they probably hide cameras. David closed his eyes to the normal light and looked for signs of electrical activity. He thought he saw the sort of activity you’d associate with something as busy as a video feed, but he left it alone.

  His door had a bright line of embedded electrical power running down the wall to the latch. That was interesting and he gave it a little nudge of power. The door responded with a loud >clack<. There was a distant alarm and footsteps and murmured voices outside. The door opened and there were two cops, one with a Taser and one with a shotgun against the wall outside.

  “Sit on the bed cross-legged,” a third cop pushing the door open wide ordered.

  David not only sat on the bed but scooted to the back and leaned against the wall. It wasn’t until then that they had a technician examine the door jam. Apparently all the active mechanism was in the wall and the door passive.

  “Try it,” the tech invited and the unarmed cop worked a small remote control making the mechanism in the wall clack several times while he peered in.

  “It seems fine,” the tech said. David gave the lock another jolt. The cop in charge just rolled his eyes when it clacked, seemingly on its own. The technician swore at it for making him a liar.

  “It doesn’t matter,” David called from his bed. “I’ll promise to stay put if you want.”

  The looks he got back were priceless.

  * * *

  “He doesn’t make any sense. He’s a mish-mash of all sorts of energies thrown off and an open face like a little kid. I didn’t see him lie once and I’m frankly scared to death of him,” Sarah told her boss.

  “What did his face betray to your limited talent,” Vince McDonnell asked.

  “He claimed to be bonded to no one. He wasn’t afraid of me or the police, just irritated. He thought me attractive, but it was horrible to read that uncovered in somebody who wouldn’t care enough to act on it.” She looked down embarrassed, but if she tried to hide anything from Vince he’d know.

  Vince just laughed.

  “He snapped his cuff chain when I tried to mock him about them. I mean… like nothing. Just to make the point he could. He threatened, well, not really threatened. He offered to burn your mark off my hand. Not just offered, he started to heat it up toying with me.”

  “You didn’t just imagine it?” Vince asked, dubious.

  “No! And look what he did to Tony. That’s not like anything I’ve ever heard of. He refuses to discuss anything of substance without his lawyer.

  Vince scowled. “Does he really believe the mundane judicial system will decide anything about him? To whom is this lawyer of his connected?”

  “We looked him up. He and his firm don’t seem connected to any of the families. Nobody there is of any importance at all. Carpenter has a lot of money, but a lot of mundanes do.” Sarah scrunched her brow up in sudden thought. “He never said anything about bail. Rich mundanes always think they can buy their way out of any mess.”

  “Because they usually can,” Vince said. “Maybe I should see this exotic.” He looked at Sarah and had a rush of anger. “You fear for me.”

  “I fear for all of us, forgive me.”

  “Very well, allow him to call his lawyer. Go back and interview him as Assistant DA, play it straight like that’s all you are and find out what you can.” He smiled. “Release him if there are no reasonable charges to bring against him.”

  Sarah shivered in fear, but she nodded yes and hurried away.

  “She knows you are going to do something else,” his deputy, Boris, leaned over and said softly.

  “Yes, but not what and what she doesn’t know she can’t reveal. That’s why she also doesn’t know this fellow was connected in any way with my man at customs,” Vince said.

  “That’s smart,” Boris agreed. “She’s terrified already. If she knew he was a full blown firestarter she’d be rendered inarticulate and useless.”

  * * *

  They took the chains off for Crenshaw, but they didn’t look happy about it. Nobody said a single word about the broken chain.

  Crenshaw didn’t look irked with him at all, he looked concerned.

  “I can request a private conference with you as your attorney, but the reality of it is the system is corrupt here and we will be recorded. Don’t make even the slightest admission, not even expressions of regret over what happened to this poor person, because that will be twisted and reframed as guilt. If you have anything to say, when there is no overriding necessity to say anything, say it assuming every word is a risk that will be recorded and scrutinized.”

  “I sort of assume you can’t post bail for me?” David asked.

  “You are being held as a witness. So far, you aren’t charged with anything at all,” Crenshaw reminded him.

  “Yeah and we both know that’s phony baloney, just like naming someone a ‘person of interest’. It’s such dishonest crap I don’t know how they can say it with a straight face. So, if I tell them what I know they shouldn’t have any further reason to hold me and I can walk free?”

  “That is the presumptive bargain. I shall try to hold them to it, but they will have remote sensors on you. They can’t hook you up to a polygraph without consent, but the remote technology has come a long way. It can’t be used to convict, but it is sufficient to continue to hold you if they have reason doubt your veracity,” Crenshaw said.

  “Who does this and when?” David asked. “I don’t care about these scum sufficiently to lie to them. The sooner we get this done the better as far as I’m concerned.”

  “The Assistant DA, Ms. Oran. We can proceed to the interview immediately if you wish.”

  “Oh, I know Sarah Oran already. I refused to speak with her without you just like the cops. I’m surprised to have her again, I didn’t think she was very comfortable around me.”

  Crenshaw looked alarmed. “Nothing untoward happened did it? If you think there is any reason she’d be prejudiced I can ask for a change.”

  “I’m not sure it really matters, but I’m willing to speak with her now that you are here.”

  * * *

  The venue was markedly different once Crenshaw was there. It was a pleasant conference room with a long wooden table, upholstered roll-along chairs, and window walls looking out on the city.

  Sarah Oran had her little portfolio again and she laid a voice recorder smaller than a pocket phone on the table. She was opposite David and Crenshaw, sitting side by side.

  “I of course need to record this,” she apologized.

>   “And video of course,” David added. “You need the facial reactions to analyze.”

  “I’m not sure that is authorized,” Oran said.

  “Perhaps they didn’t tell you,” David allowed. “There’s a camera in the thermostat on the wall there behind you, looking at us. And there’s a camera in the lighting fixture behind us looking at you.”

  Her hard blink and twitch was a tell that she didn’t know they were recording her.

  “You shouldn’t try to fool a man whose business is remote sensing and imagery,” David said. “That was impolite of them to do to you. Did you know that sort of camera is known to be very unreliable?”

  Behind him there was a loud >SNAP< of an electric arc and little pieces of shattered plastic rattled out of the lighting fixture. He didn’t bother with the camera looking at him.

  Crenshaw looked like he wanted to say something, but stifled it.

  Sarah got a photograph out, but her hands were shaking.

  “This is a photograph of the gentleman who… collapsed in front of you,” she said. “The autopsy isn’t complete, but we asked for a rapid assessment of just his head since that seemed the only real portion of his anatomy involved.”

  “Isn’t that rather unusual?” Crenshaw asked.

  “This is a very unusual case,” Oran said. That seemed beyond dispute.

  “Interesting,” David said, studying the grisly photo far closer than Oran or his lawyer cared to. “You wouldn’t have a glass would you? I’m used to using on for satellite photos and such.”

  “No, I didn’t see the need of one,” Oran said. “I’m sure this is sufficient to our needs.”

  “I thought I saw a sort of tattoo or brand on the back of the man’s hand. I wonder if the medial examiner notes that sort of thing? I thought I mentioned it to you.”

  “I don’t recall. I doubt it is relevant,” Oran said firmly.

  “I can help you with your memory if you want,” David offered. He struck a totally unnecessary theatrical pose and thrust his hand out with a casting gesture. He started to say the formulae Mrs. Ayers taught him to sharpen his memory, but he got three words of High German out and Oran pressed her hands over her ears and said, “Idon’twantyourhelp,” all in a rush with no pause between the words. She didn’t uncover them until she saw David was silent.

  “Did you ever know this man before?” She asked. She’d been instructed to ask that.

  “To my best knowledge I’ve never even seen him before. I think I’d remember him.

  “Do you have any idea what killed this man?”

  “Well, that’s obvious. His bloody brains blew out of his head. It was disgusting.”

  “Yes, but what agency could do that?” Oran insisted.

  “I honestly don’t understand any mechanism for this event,” David said. “I have a pretty good knowledge of physics, know electronics the public doesn’t know exist, because it is classified, and have a fair understanding of chemistry. I can’t postulate any normal physical mechanism within my education to explain this. I’d like to understand it. I’d have to go off on a wild tangent, supposing something outrageous out of science fiction to explain this.” He could defend every point he made as truthful and any instruments they had would report that, besides Oran’s observations.

  “Yet we have a real homicide here to explain,” Oran objected

  “Perhaps,” David allowed. “I’m not sure you can prove it’s a homicide. I have to object to that assumption in the face of no concrete provable data. The very questions you’re asking shows you have no idea what killed him much less postulate a who.”

  “Let me ask you directly. Because my office suspects the qualifier for first degree murder exists here, premeditation. You don’t have to plan a month in advance. We have the video and saw the interaction between you. When this man blocked your path, he reached for you to assault you. We’ll grant you that. Your action to push him away was appropriate. But then we saw no attempt to retreat as the state of New York requires. Did you then throw away the opportunity to run at that instant and instead form an intent to kill him?”

  “Absolutely not,” David said, and both the machines and Oran knew it to be true. Slapping the man’s hand away and backhanding him hadn’t been intended to kill him or even harm him seriously. It was only after he formed a weapon and attacked from two steps away David acted to defend himself. There wasn’t then any window of opportunity to retreat. It all happened in seconds, but the enhanced memory Mrs. Ayers gave him helped him remember clearly. His honesty registered on both the mundane sensors and Oran’s scrutiny of the unmasked false colors on his face.

  “Then I have no further questions for you,” Oran said, “I’ll order you released.”

  That surprised David, he was prepared for a grueling protracted interrogation.

  “I’ll walk you up through the process and take you to your hotel,” Crenshaw said, “You can suffer a kilometer ride in the hated thing.”

  “No, I don’t want you here anymore,” David said. It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach to think of it. “I mean, thank you. Don’t be offended, but I’m sure. It’s for the best.”

  If doubt flickered on Crenshaw’s he still nodded and accepted his client’s instruction.

  “If anything happens to that man I won’t have a shred of mercy on anyone connected to it,” David said when Crenshaw was gone. “I’ll pursue it like a Middle Eastern clan settling a blood feud to the knife. Do I make myself clear?”

  Oran might have responded with bluster if she didn’t have the sight, but David wasn’t lying about this either. He had no knowledge what his face looked like making that promise. It radiated power promising death and destruction so bright the merely angry mundane face wasn’t even visible behind it. It made the face glow of her boss Vince in a full rage look like a night light. Worse, closing her eyes didn’t do anything to block it. She just nodded her understanding, made inarticulate by its terrifying radiance. She just hoped Vince wasn’t planning anything that stupid, because she didn’t think he knew what he was dealing with here anymore than she did.

  Oran walked David up to Intake and Release. He’d never been forced to put on a jumpsuit. The clerk pulled a plastic bin that had one envelope in it. David’s soft bag with his things was long gone at the crime scene in the hotel lobby. He was way past worrying about it.

  The officer emptied his things on the counter there was his phone, his wallet, the pebbles, and his protective sign. Oran just whimpered at the sign, too strong for her to bear looking at. The jailer was thoroughly mundane and oblivious to it.

  David slipped the sign home in his breast pocket, careful to turn it in to himself to mask it, and pocketed the other things.

  “What is the address here so I can call a car to pick me up?” David inquired.

  That gave the Property Officer a good laugh.

  “Just tell them you’re at the Eighth Precinct release. All the drivers have been here before.”

  There was a bench by the door marked exit, so David sat there and used an app that called any independent driver. He wanted to leave quickly, not in style. Oran took an identical bench on the other side of the hall. Once the jailer left the counter and retreated inside his wire security cage they were alone.

  “Are you obligated to see me out?” David asked. “I can see myself out for all I care.”

  “I want to see you get in the car. My boss would expect it,”

  “Oh, not the DA, you mean McDonnell, may his name be praised,” David mocked.

  Oran didn’t rise to the bait. Said to Vince’s face, that would be death for most men.

  David wasn’t through discomforting her. He absent mindedly swirled his hand and made a golden shield. It hovered off his hand, but could he move it away? It didn’t move easily at a mental command. He made both a tossing motion and willed it away. It moved away reluctantly and returned like a ball on a rubber band. David smiled to learn something. He turned his hand palm down and to
ssed it away again a bit harder. It flashed out, not seeming to be affected by gravity at all and came back the same. However it clipped the fire extinguisher hanging on a wall bracket and cut off the inspection tags and about the last twenty millimeters of the chrome handle. It clattered on the tile floor.

  “Oops,” David said. If he’d sliced into the tank it would have sprayed all over and made a mess. He better not experiment with this anymore until he had more room. How small could you make one? He drew a circle in the air and made a shield the size of a penny. That amused him.

  Oran sat terrified. Watching him play with powers far beyond her, like a boy with toy trucks.

  It was kind of like the doodling on scrap paper he did as a student to relieve boredom. David cupped his hand and tried to visualize a sphere and rotated his hand instead of swishing a flat circle. It obligingly created a gold sphere the size of a ping-pong ball. The neat thing was it didn’t follow his hand when he withdrew it like a shield. That made David exclaim – “Ah ha!”

  That was something Oran had never seen, so fascinating she forgot for a moment to be afraid.

  “Where did you learn this stuff?” she demanded, not expecting an honest answer.

  “I made a start of it in North Africa, Ethiopia mostly,” he said.

  “The families avoid North Africa,” Oran said. “If the talented go off the beaten path there they tend to disappear without a trace or signal.”

  David recalled Uncle’s opinion of wizards. “I can believe that,” he agreed. The little gold ball moved when you pushed on it with a finger, but stiffly. It returned to zero when you let off. David pushed at it mentally, like trying to move a rock. It moved but with required continuing effort, like it was in a viscous fluid. He’d like to try drawing sword like he’s seen done, but Oran might shriek in terror. He wanted to get out of here without being arrested again.

  When his phone rang David looked at it to confirm it was his ride. The driver said he was outside and driving a blue Volvo four door. He cupped his hand around the gold ball and wrung it out of existence as easily as a shield. It never occurred to him it might not follow the same rules. He expected this aspect of this new reality to be as consistent as the first universe he knew.