She was about to press the call button but hesitated. She huffed and laid down in bed, stretching. She realized that everything had become too complicated, that life is easy for children, instead. Simple thoughts, instant choices and no remorse. Today is all that matters. There were days when it was easy to indulge in nostalgia, not only of the life she lived but also - and maybe more - of the one she dreamed of.
He picked up the communicator again and that time William was really determined to call. He took a deep breath and started typing. Could it be a new beginning? Could he rewind the tape?
She summoned up all the boldness she had always shown before she met William and she finally managed to take that tough decision. She was about to activate the function, but she noticed, with great surprise, that someone had beaten her to it.
«Hi, Lucy.»
«Bill? Oh my... I was about to call you», Lucinda said with a weak voice and a hint of shame.
«I'm sorry, Cy, I just wanted to hear your voice.»
Lucinda smiled sweetly.
«How you doing Bill? Are you well?»
The answer was late in coming. On the one hand, William would have liked to get rid of all the toxins accumulated over the last few weeks; on the other, the risk of throwing up his frustrations and repressed anger on Lucinda was too strong and the occasion too tempting. So he opted for the wisest solution: he dodged the questions.
«Pretty well. What about you? Any news?», he asked, immediately trying to change the subject.
«Well, usual trouble. Some more than usual, to tell the truth», she alluded.
It only took a few seconds and the healing effect of Lucinda's voice pervaded William like a balm and he felt already quite a bit relieved. He didn't like talking on the phone, yet he could stand there talking to her for hours, even without a particular subject. He loved the rhythm of her voice and her warm tone. Sometimes he let her talk without restraints, as if he's mesmerized. And that was fine.
William scratched his head. He intended to take time to assess whether he would have to try to get more out of that chat or leave it at that.
«Do you want to talk about it?»
«Hmm, I'd rather not bore you», she said. The impulse to tell him about the Sarkov affair was insistent, but there was a big risk of introducing a speech about jealousy which, in those circumstances, was definitely better to avoid.
«Oh please, go ahead, I'm here for you», William said absently, rummaging in a drawer to pull out some clean socks.
«Bill, you're being weird. Is everything okay? What are you doing?»
William was caught off guard and, after quickly closing the drawer, he preferred to digress.
«No, I'm sorry, it's all right. Really.» He coughed. «It's been a while since we've heard each other... what have you been doing lately?», he repeated again.
Lucinda inhaled noisily.
«And you? What did you do?», she replied, annoyed.
«Well, nothing new, it's always the same.»
«Yeah, always the same», Lucinda pointed out.
William noticed the harshness in her voice and tried to justify himself.
«I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have called. I just wanted to hear you.»
William kept dancing around the subject without getting to the point. Housekeeping was a way to keep busy and not show her that he felt awkward. As always happened to him after a tiff, he was all anxious to call her back and make peace, but then nervousness made him beat a retreat and he became unable to speak with fluency.
Lucinda played with her cowlick and fell silent. William then gathered some courage.
«Could we meet for a coffee one of these days?»
«No coffee», she immediately dismissed, resolute. «I'll see you at Garmstein Park. Let's say... on Saturday, October 8th, in the morning. Is it okay with you?»
«Well...» William barely managed to contain his disappointment. He hesitated.
«Bill, then?»
«Hmm, okay. As you wish», he surrendered eventually.
«All right, then I'll see you on Saturday. Bye.»
«Bye bye Lucy.»
He didn't get to complete the greeting as Lucinda had already interrupted the communication. William had a knack for getting on her nerves with just a few words. His reserved and often superficial attitude irked her a lot. Having a coffee together wasn't a bad idea, yet she chose not to please him and refused out of spite.
I'm always very good at messing things up, William said to himself while falling dead on the bed. He placed the communicator on the bedside table, then remembered he still needed it because he had to call Charlie. Before that, he needed to drink, so he went to the kitchen and filtered some water. He had a burning in his throat that didn't go away. He turned on the TV and was attacked by news about Militia latest successes relating to the fight against crime and the improvement of the quality of life. There was also an advertisement for a new soft drink, which made that glass of water taste even worse.
Charlie. Charlie would understand him. Maybe he couldn't help him that much, but he sure would make him feel better. He laid back on the bed and thought. He had to do it right away, before laziness and some other migraines took possession of his body. He took a look at his apartment: how long since he cleaned it carefully? There was food residue all around, mostly packets of biscuits and Chinese food, which he insisted on eating although he wasn't fond of. He wrapped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Only the hum of the fan could be heard. He pursed his lips, then jumped and, after a quick glance at the e-mail, called Charlie.
In each conversation, Charlie DeClerk performed a circus act, as if it was per contract. William was sure that he and James Dufour would form a very successful comedy team. He promised himself to make them meet to see if there could be a spark between them. Talking seriously with Charlie was a massive undertaking, but he was a guy people can trust. William had only a few friends, and just one true friend.
On that occasion Mr. DeClerk appeared to be very excited.
«Deveux? You old fart, long time no hear?! I was about to send flowers and contact some funeral home. Do you really want me to believe that I wasn't called by your ectoplasm?»
Charlie started talking like a machine gun.
«DeClerk how many times must I tell you to go easy on that shit, the Crystal Eden? It'll kill your little brain cells.»
«More than that junk you swallow every day? Come on...», Charlie reproached him, referring to Sefinol.
«It's quite different. I have to, fool.»
«Yeah, yeah, as you wish. So, what do you need?», Charlie cut it short.
«Why do you think I need something? Can't I call an old friend and have a chat?», William suggested, pretending to be irritated.
«Claro que sì, but it's not our case. Then?»
William stayed silent.
«Deveux, then?»
«Charlie, I'm in trouble, and it's not my fault.»
«Hmm, are you talking about them? What did you get yourself into?»
William recalled an old refrain which said that only the paranoid will survive, so he was vague. Who knows how many conversations were intercepted and monitored. Better be careful.
«It's a complex issue, let's talk face to face. Meet me at that place near the big tree, okay?»
Although he guessed what William had run into, Charlie DeClerk was perplexed. Those were situations which he could potentially face, but not William. He always stayed out of trouble. What was that about?
«Bill, could you tell me what the hell...»
«There's no need to discuss it online», William interrupted him. «Charlie, I can only talk to you about this, you always know what to do. Help me.»
«What's this got to do with it, I'm good at making a mess, that's for sure. But that sounds serious.»
Charlie tried to look calm, but he was actually worried. And William's tone of voice was not at all reassuring. He had surely got into a big trouble.
>
«Then? See you tomorrow?»
Charlie didn't reply.
«Tomorrow?», William urged him.
«See you tomorrow», his friend reluctantly agreed.
«Oh Bill, I almost forgot. Fuck you. Next time you're in trouble, don't call me. Damn...»
William smiled bitterly.
«I love you, Charlie.»
«Go to hell, Deveux. I hope it's really worth it.» Charlie then disconnected abruptly.
Charles DeClerk was what a sixty-year-old mother would call a problem child. He had a strong inclination to violate the law. William sometimes called it ironically talent. It's not that he enjoyed it, no way. The matter was very simple: what Charlie found funny, challenging, ended up more or less casually with colliding with rules and precepts. It was just a bad luck, as he repeated. Though he had spent a few nights in the luxurious apartments of Militia headquarters, that ability had neither been affected, nor weakened. In his reckless pursuit of Eden, of the ultimate expedient, of the most brilliant idea, he had repeatedly promised himself that that would be the last time; but soon after he started it all over, with some new bump or scar. Yet he had received a very good education, in his middle-class East Side family. Mary and Raymond DeClerk, both university clerks, had always made sure their child grew up without particular restrictions, but in a healthy environment. They had given him the opportunity to make his own experiences, in compliance with the rules. A spontaneous compliance, in their opinion, which did not need a specific set of guidelines. There was no need to slavishly explain what was taken for granted: that the law should be observed. They realized too late that it would have been preferable to give Little Charlie some extra lessons.
William and Charlie remembered exactly the day their paths crossed. They met online. Or rather clashed. They were both trying to hack a well-known e-commerce site. A way to easily find some nice gadget, of course, but more than that, the opportunity for two guys of seventeen and sixteen to show off their abilities and contempt for danger. They got in touch, they studied and eventually challenged each other with strings of machine language. WD27 you're a two-bit hood, said one. DEX43 you're just a grunt, I'll grind you to dust, answered the other. After a few skirmishes they decided to meet in person to settle the score. The appointment was set for twelve o'clock, at the intersection of Highsight Avenue and Dorian Street, near a computer store they both knew well. William showed up early and started waiting with folded arms. He inspected the street on both ends several times, but, apart from a few white collars and some old women who could barely walk, he did not notice anyone who could get close to his idea of Charlie. Charlie, on the other hand, was already there. He was watching the street through the window of “Jim's Stuff”. It took just a few seconds to realize that that tall, strong guy, a little scruffy and with a killer look, could only be there waiting for him. He hung around for a little and hid behind shelves full of gadgets and advanced equipment, latest-generation projectors, computers with ultra-fast connection and many other little things that, under normal circumstances, would have made his mouth water; but not at that time. The terror of finding himself with a broken jaw had crept over him. Another look outside. No way: he was always there. He thought that guy was really a great stubborn, what more did he want from him? He had already had his victory: Charlie had not shown up. He should be more than satisfied with that. But no, he just stood there, more and more frowning. He rolled his head rhythmically to cover his whole visual field and was getting more and more frantic. What to do? If he sneaked out, William would spot him for sure and probably would identify him. Expert hackers rarely wear white beards or skirts. He was starting to get hungry and in addition, at 1.30 p.m., his favorite TV show was going to be broadcast: “My Bad”, the adventures of an ex-convict boy, half android, who put his skills to the service of justice. When he executed his striped heron technique, no one was left standing. It would probably come in handy to Charlie to get out of that mess at that moment. All in all, he thought it was his fault. No guts, no glory, people used to say. He had to stop making trouble if he didn't know how to get out of it.
Five minutes. Another five minutes and he would go out, come hell or high water. At most ten minutes, no more. His face smashed against the glass again. But that time there was something new: William was talking to a woman in her forties, black hair gathered behind her head, a blue bodice and a fuchsia-colored scarf around her neck, despite being a very hot spring day. It was no coincidence that it bothered her since every ten or fifteen seconds she ran her index and middle fingers along the knot to try to loosen the grip. As far as Charlie could see from his location, the lady seemed to have a charming and contagious smile. Only later Charlie would find out she was Gwen Deveux, younger sister of William's father.
That could be a good time. William was distracted and moreover smiling, thanks to the providential intervention of that young lady. He probably wouldn't mind him. He put back a communicator which he was pretending to admire and went to the exit. Unfortunately, William had already taken leave of the young woman and was waving his left hand right in the direction of Jim's Stuff's exit. Charlie backed off and hit a mustachioed clerk who gave a disapproving grunt. He got back to his favorite window and noticed that William was looking at his watch, very annoyed. What a hard head!, Charlie sighed, resigned to the inevitable. Suddenly William went right to that window, to take a look at the exhibition and kill some time. «Man, why don't you take a hike?», Charlie protested loudly and he attracted the attention of some guys who looked at him sideways, perplexed.
«Need help?», asked him another salesman who had seen him dance and swing a little too much.
«What?», said Charlie, surprised. «No thanks», he added. «In fact, I was about to leave.»
The salesman seemed relieved.
Charlie got close to the exit again. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and chose to leave that shelter. It was a big surprise finding William right in front of him. «Damn!», shouted Charlie. William stared at him in silence, with a spark of curiosity in his eyes and a thirst for revenge. Yes, revenge, for daring to challenge him in his preferred field of activity: computer science aimed at feeding ego, arrogance and delusions of grandeur. Charlie, in a split second, went through the stages of dismay, repulsion and, lastly, impudence. Like a cornered rabbit which chooses to fight with teeth and claws, he tried to show all his pride. He flaunted his second best skill, besides committing crimes: oratory.
«Do what you want, I don't care. You can beat me up as long as you want, I won't cry and I won't apologize. You're a loser!»
He calmed down a little to test William's reaction, but he remained as impassive as a mummy. So Charlie overplayed his hand.
«I'm the best hacker in town. You may know a couple of tricks, but it's a beginner's stuff. Still hacking online stores? I can break into Militia's archives whenever I want. You're surprised, aren't you? Yeah, you should be. If I wanted to, I could access the database of the Registry Office and erase you. Ah!»
William raised his eyebrows, with a hint of amazement. He did not expect him to be that talkative. Hackers were usually silent, shy, they used to go unnoticed in the real world; when they were online, on the contrary, they vented all their frustration and played God. That guy looked like a flooded river, instead.
«I'm leaving now», Charlie went on, «and don't you dare lay a finger on me, okay? Otherwise I'll make you disappear! Fool!»
William awoke from his trance. That trivial and unexpected insult aroused his hilarity.
«Fool?»
«Yeah right.»
There was a brief silence, then William burst out laughing.
«You find it so funny, huh?»
Charlie clenched his fists and had an instinct to attack him. He took a small step forward and immediately one back, like a middleweight boxer dancing in the ring. William calmed down and granted him a smile full of understanding.
«You're really good.»
&nb
sp; «What?», said Charlie, still a little amazed, while his brain was already working out the best attack strategy.
«You're not too bad. Man, you're very good indeed.»
Charlie perked up.
«Ah! Just like I thought! You're scared, eh? Coward!»
William smiled again.
«Did you really screw the cockroaches?»
Charlie stopped and caught his breath.
«What?», he repeated.
«You heard well. Did you really penetrate them without being tracked?»
Charlie stuck his chest out, with renewed vigor. He put his hands on his hips and struck a pose. He thought: this is small-time things, I can do much better.
«You're starting to get it, huh? Of course, I did it. I just took a quick look, you know, I didn't want to take unnecessary risks. But, if I wanted to, I could blow all of their systems. It's nothing for me.»
He made the gesture of wiping the dust off his shoulders.
«Billy.»
«What?»
«Come on, is your brain messed up or something? My name is William Deveux. Billy», William said, extending his hand in peace. Charlie remained suspicious. He waited a while, then finally shook it.
«Charles Winsome DeClerk III. My friends call me Charlie, but you can call me Majesty or The Genius, which is my second name. Indeed, the third.»
«Then I'll call you the third.»
«Cool. You made me laugh.»
«Hmm, you can come and see my den sometime, so we may have a little fun with Fighting Pain», William suggested.
«We'll see. Maybe. I make no promises», replied Charlie, looking like a very busy man.
William looked at him with a certain tenderness, then asked for his communicator number and sent him a text message.
«That's my number. Call me.»
And, while going away, without turning around he added: «You've really stained that window with drool. Why didn't you come out earlier? I got bored of standing all alone.»
The Ruling Impulses Page 8