Chromed- Upgrade

by Richard Parry

“Do?”

  “You took my lighter.”

  “I’m sorry.” Zacharies held the lighter out again.

  “Don’t apologize. Not here. Zach, can I give you some advice?”

  “I’d like that. This is all very strange.”

  “There’s a bunch of assholes in R&D who are going to want to get in your head. Peel it like a grape.” Zacharies swallowed but said nothing. “So, here’s the thing. I like you. And I don’t like R&D.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Zacharies.

  “Don’t apologize,” said the man. “That’s it. Do what you do. Do it large. And if someone wants to peel your head like a grape?”

  “An asshole?”

  The man smiled over his cigarette. “Sure, an asshole. Don’t just take their lighter away.”

  “I think I understand,” said Zacharies. “You want me to use my gift.”

  “I don’t think you do understand, but it’s a start. Before we see those guys in R&D, what can you do?”

  “Lift things. Move things.”

  “How many? How heavy?”

  “Not many. Not heavy.” Zacharies thought back. “I can lift a chair holding a man and supplies for a week. I can carry that across the desert.”

  “Right.” The man blew smoke at the ceiling. “Quite a lot, then.”

  “My powers are small,” said Zacharies. “Not like the angel.”

  The man laughed again, eyes crinkling with mirth, before scrubbing out his cigarette on the table. “He’s not an angel. Let’s go watch you mess with someone’s day.” He stood, holding a hand out to Zacharies. “Since we’ve decided not to lose you to the butchers in R&D, you can call me Mike.”

  Zacharies took Mike’s hand. His grip was firm. Zacharies wondered why Heaven was full of assholes, but he also wondered how he’d found a man who was kind and decent.

  “I don’t know how to explain it better.” Zacharies frowned. “I … touch it and ask it to move.”

  They were in a room with bright lights and things called machines, plastic and shiny metal. Screens glowed. A tech Mike called Yelden was with them, and the three of them stared at a chair, center stage. The chair didn’t look welcoming, despite being made in the same perfect way as Mike’s clothes and teeth. It had straps. Zacharies hadn’t liked it as soon as he’d seen it, so he lifted it from the ground.

  Yelden watched the chair, doubt in his eyes as he crouched low to check the air under it. He turned to Mike. “Seriously, if this is some kind of joke—”

  Mike spread his hands. “It’s no joke. Mind if I smoke?”

  “There’s no smoking in here,” said Yelden. Zacharies watched as Mike nodded, pulled a pack of cigarettes out, lighting one. He offered the pack to the tech, who looked at it before taking one. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” said Mike around the edges of his cigarette. He looked to Zacharies. “It’s not a trick, right?”

  Zacharies frowned. “I don’t know if I understand the question. Your language is strange.”

  “He means you’re lying.” Mike blew smoke. “Are you lying, kid?”

  “I don’t think so.” Zacharies held a hand out, palm up, to the chair. “I asked it to—”

  “Spin in the air?” Yelden watched the chair rotate. “Hang on. I’m going to call Kerney down here.”

  Zacharies glanced at Mike. “Should I put the chair down?”

  “Not yet.” Mike straightened his sleeves, leaning closer to Zacharies. “Remember what I said about assholes?”

  “Yes.” Zacharies considered the chair he held with his gift. It was very light, lighter than anything that size had a right to be. “What is the chair for?”

  “Exactly.” Mike nodded. “Grapes. Keep your head together.”

  The door behind Zacharies opened with a soft hiss of air, and he turned to see another tech enter the room. The man’s hair was a mess, and he had a stain at the edge of his lips. “Fuck is it? I’m in the middle…” He stopped, taking in the chair, mouth open.

  “Kerney,” said Yelden. “I need a consult.”

  Kerney stared at the chair, then did a slow walk around it. “You’ve—”

  “I haven’t done shit.” Yelden took a pull on his cigarette. “I just wanted to see if the look on your face was the same as mine.”

  Kerney stopped walking, glaring at Zacharies. “Who the hell are you?” He turned to Mike. “There’s no smoking in here.”

  Mike nodded, grinning around his cigarette. “That’s right.” He blew a cloud of smoke, soft and gray, at the ceiling.

  “Fucking Specialist Services,” said Kerney.

  “What was that?” Mike leaned forward, hand cupped to his ear. “I didn’t catch what you said.”

  “Nothing.” Kerney blurted the word.

  Zacharies looked between them. Someone is in charge in this room. It isn’t Kerney. Kerney gestured at the chair. “May I?”

  “Be my guest.” Yelden shrugged, hands in his pockets.

  Kerney reached out, stopping the chair from spinning. Zacharies could feel Kerney’s touch like a light in his mind, the pressure on the chair’s arm full of life. Kerney drew his hand back, turning to a table. He grabbed a steel tray, tools and instruments clattering to the ground.

  “Hey,” said Yelden.

  Kerney ignored the other tech, passing the tray through the air around the chair. “There’s nothing holding it up.”

  “That’s not quite true, is it?” Mike ground out his cigarette against the side of a machine. He pulled another from his pack, lighting it. Zacharies saw the brief flare of fire reflected in his eyes. “Because it’s not holding itself up.”

  “It is.” Kerney waved his tray at the chair. “There’s nothing—”

  “It’s an inanimate object,” said Mike. “It doesn’t do anything.”

  “Semantics,” said Kerney.

  “I thought you guys were scientists,” said Mike.

  Yelden was about to say something before Zacharies spoke. “I asked it to do that.”

  All three men turned to look at him. Yelden spoke first. “You said something like that before. Like you talked to it.”

  “It’s not … talking,” said Zacharies. “You do not have gifted people in your world?”

  “Our world?” Yelden looked sideways at Mike.

  Mike shrugged, the gesture small. “Roll with it.”

  “Okay,” said Yelden. “There’s lots of gifted people. People who can do math faster than a computer, or someone who can hit a curveball out of the park.”

  Math. Computer. Curveball. Zacharies frowned. “I don’t know these words. Not yet.”

  “Don’t sweat it, kid,” said Mike. “The link will work it out for you over the next couple days.”

  “He’s got a new link?” said Kerney. “He’s what, eighteen? Nineteen?”

  “Maybe.” Mike blew more smoke at the ceiling. “Hard to tell.”

  “Hell with this.” Kerney walked to Zacharies, glaring at him. “How are you doing it?” He reached toward Zacharies. Zacharies stepped back, the chair jerking in the air, following his direction of movement.

  “Yeah, that’s where you guys come in.” Mike sighed. “If I knew how he was doing it, it’d be in my report already.”

  Yelden’s eyes were wide. “Are you saying—”

  “He’s a telekinetic.” Kerney moved closer to Zacharies. Zacharies stepped further back, the chair drifting again. “The military applications…”

  “Please,” said Zacharies. “I just want to find my sister.”

  “You have a sister?” said Yelden. “Can she do this?”

  “Apparently not,” said Mike. “She does another thing entirely.”

  “Her gift is different.” Zacharies shrugged. “Bigger and smaller.”

  “Right.” Kerney rubbed at the stain on his lip. “Protocol is clear. We need to get him in a chair.”

  “Go ahead.” Mike edged toward the side of the room.

  “Are you giving authorization?” a
sked Yelden.

  “No,” said Mike. “I’m just an observer.”

  Yelden turned to Kerney. “Security is on the way.”

  “Security?” said Zacharies. “What needs to be secured?”

  The door whispered open, three men stepping through. They wore clothing of a strange cut, the material hard, strong, rigid against his mind. They held weapons. Zacharies’ eyes narrowed, recognizing the shape of the devices from what the angel had carried. “Are these men angels?”

  “No.” Mike was behind him. “You don’t need to go easy on ‘em.”

  Yelden pointed at Zacharies. “Detain him.”

  One of the three newcomers took a step forward, then stopped, looking at the chair. “Is that chair floating in the air?”

  “Kinda,” said Mike. “You need to think carefully, sergeant. How do you want this day to end?”

  The sergeant looked over at Mike, then back at Zacharies. “Don’t take this personal, kid.” He pulled a small device from his belt, pointed it at Zacharies. The device hissed and spat a dart.

  Zacharies stopped the dart in the air. He touched his fingertip to it, causing it to bob and turn a lazy spiral. “Please. I want to find my sister.”

  “Kid, the fastest way to find your sister is to get taken seriously.” Mike gave an embarrassed cough. “I take you seriously. These guys? Orangutans.”

  The sergeant’s face twisted in a snarl. He waved his men forward. Zacharies felt their intent, their need. The man to his left took two steps. Zacharies made the chair move, black leather and metal surging across the room. The man to the sergeant’s left raised his weapon in surprise, firing. The rounds tore through the chair as it raced for him. Bullets tore an arm from it before it slammed into the guard, knocking him through the air and into the wall.

  The second man raised his rifle, pointing it at Zacharies. His face spoke of animal fear.

  Reach deep. Into the stone and rock. It’s dead, long turned, warped by the hands of men, but it will suffice.

  The floor ripped, cement and tiles showering up. A slab of concrete the size of a man rose from the ground to stand between the guard and Zacharies. The guard’s weapon fired, bullets hitting the concrete. Chips and splinters sprayed.

  “I said, cease fire!” The sergeant knocked the other man’s weapon down. “Christ. What the hell—”

  “That’ll do, kid.” Mike stepped away from the wall. “Well played.”

  Yelden and Kerney got up from where they huddled behind lab equipment. Zacharies hadn’t notice them move. Yelden started with, “What?”

  “He, umm,” said Kerney.

  “I think the best thing we can do right now is help Zach here find his sister.” Mike did a slow turn. “What do you fellas think?”

  The sergeant walked to the cement block standing in the air like the chair had. He glared at the floor underneath as if the whole world lied to him. “He’s ripped a hole in the floor. He ripped a fucking hole in the floor.”

  “Yeah. Make sure you put it in your report. C’mon, kid.” Mike led Zacharies from the room.

  Zacharies stopped in the corridor outside, glancing back. Kerney and Yelden looked at the hole left by the cement slab. The sergeant bawled at his man. The third man was still out cold. “Mike?”

  “Yeah, kid?”

  “There are a lot of assholes in Heaven.”

  Mike laughed, turning. “Yeah, kid.”

  “What … what happened there?”

  Mike shrugged, walking down the corridor. “You made some enemies.”

  Zacharies frowned. “Why did I do that?”

  “So you can find your sister.”

  Mike continued walking, Zacharies hurrying to catch up. “I don’t understand.”

  “No, I expect you don’t.”

  “Will the link tell me?”

  “Shit like that isn’t on the link.”

  “Then why?”

  Mike stopped, turning to look at him. “Kid?”

  “Yes, Mike.”

  “This isn’t Heaven. It’s just a world, and not a very good one.”

  “But—”

  “Wait.” Mike held up his hand, face serious. “There aren’t angels, and there aren’t demons. There are just people.”

  “I saw him, Mike. He fell from the sky.”

  Mike frowned. “He wasn’t an angel.”

  “My sister said he was,” insisted Zacharies. “Laia is always right.”

  “Fair enough,” said Mike. “Look, it’s…”

  “Yes?”

  “There were two ways this could go. Either they’d strap you to a chair and pull your head open, or…” He trailed off, looking at his shoes. “You make people fear you. I can’t do that. I can’t always be there.”

  Zacharies thought of Laia, crying in the night. “No, you can’t. You can’t always be there.”

  “This way, I don’t have to be.” Mike walked on.

  After a moment Zacharies followed. He still thought about his sister. Zacharies hoped she was right about the angel. If he was an angel, he would be able to protect her in the night.

  The way you never could.

  Zacharies shook his head, but the thought stayed. It rang true, and he hated it.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Your problem is you’ve got no sense of gratitude.” Mason looked through the gap in the wall, staring out at the rain lashing and coiling in the street outside. He touched the old brick, some of it crumbling away. The lattice shuddered inside him, a flash of remembered nausea clenching in his gut.

  “Right.” Sadie turned, her glare set to kill level. Mason could see the anger bunching under her skin, like it was a part of her flesh and bones. The way she moved her head, the way she stood, and the way she looked at him said I despise you, company man. It might have been fair. “I should be happy you dragged me out to the middle of Fucksville?”

  “This was not my first choice of place.” Mason kicked a stone, watching it skip over broken asphalt, the rain welcoming it. This building, like the street outside, hadn’t seen maintenance in years. How many was difficult to tell. Fifty? A hundred? How long did it take for concrete corners to weather smooth? Or for red signs to bleach white?

  “Oh yeah? What was your first choice? A graveyard?”

  “A sex hotel.”

  “A…” Sadie gaped, raw anger stopping her words. “A what?”

  “Sex hotel,” repeated Mason. “Look, much as I’m enjoying your rant, I’m going to get more cigarettes.”

  “Don’t you dare walk away,” said Sadie. “Don’t you dare.”

  “I’m not walking away. I’m walking out there. You can come with.”

  Mason watched her watch the rain, the corners of Sadie’s eyes softening for just a moment before the hard steel returned. “Whatever, company man. Go get yourself killed.”

  He shrugged, pulling out the rumpled pack of Marlboros. One left. Mason tucked the pack back into his armor’s pouch, turning to Haraway. “Look after the kid, okay?”

  Haraway looked pale, drawn and thin. She hadn’t wanted to get into the conversation between him and Sadie. Fair enough. Mason hadn’t really wanted to either. The rain was as much of an escape as a grocery run.

  Sound. Shapes in the rain.

  The lattice pulled his gaze to the street, but there wasn’t anything there. Mason watched through the break in the wall for a few moments. “Laia.”

  The girl was at his side almost straight away. Mason didn’t like the look in her eyes that screamed adoration. She followed his every moment. “Yes, lord?”

  He winced at the same time Sadie snorted. “It’s just Mason, kid.” He pointed into the rain. “Is it still there?”

  She nodded, eyes solemn. “It’s everywhere. Always. It’s not leashed here.”

  “Here?” Haraway leaned forward, some of the weariness leaving her face for a moment.

  “This world has no Master. Like me.” The girl shrugged, a small smile dimpling her face. “Water flows whe
n it has no container.”

  “But you pushed it out,” said Mason. “You made it leave. Leave me.”

  “Yes.” Laia frowned, looking at his face, his body, then his legs. “It’s gone, lord … Mason.”

  Good enough for me. There really is something in the rain. Mason sniffed. “Okay.”

  “You’re really going back out there?” There was something Mason could mistake for concern in Sadie’s voice, if it hadn’t been hammered paper-thin by fury.

  “Yeah.” Mason stretched his shoulders, his armor’s plates moving over each other. He unslung his rifle, offering it to Sadie. “You know your way around one of these. I saw your work in the van.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re giving me a gun?”

  Mason frowned. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Because…” Sadie stopped, looking at the gun. “I—”

  “You figured we pulled you out, abducted you like some asset, and we’re going to run down your brain in a company lab, the doctor here frying your insides like a good steak.” Mason looked to Haraway. “Honestly? Between you and me, I don’t think she’s up for it.”

  Sadie’s gaze followed his. “It’s just—”

  “Forget it.” Mason offered the rifle again. “Know how to use it?”

  “I guess.” Sadie’s fingertips touched the rifle. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to…?” She lifted her chin in a you-know gesture.

  Haraway’s voice was wry. “I’ll admit, I’m a little worried about that too.”

  Mason held Sadie’s eyes. “No. I’m not worried about that.”

  “But I might—”

  “I’m not worried about that either.” Mason shrugged. “Take it or don’t.”

  Sadie took the rifle, Mason watching as she struggled with the weight of it. The rifle was heavy, designed for someone with bionics. Sadie wasn’t weak, dropping it like an idiot, but it didn’t look like she’d be able to sling it like a pro.

  “What about a SMG?” Mason unclipped the SMG from his belt. “Smaller. Faster.”

  “A norm’s weapon?” Sadie’s lips narrowed to a hard line. You could cut sheet steel on them.

  “Do I look like a normal?” Mason put the SMGs on a rotted counter. “I’m going hunting.”

  “Hunting?” Haraway frowned. She looked between Mason, the rifle, and the SMGs. “It’s a dead city. What for?”