When the River Ran Dry

by Robert Davies

  “Holy shit,” Ricky mumbled, but Jonathan only nodded with satisfaction.

  “Piss on them all,” he sneered.

  Beside Lowe, Emilio Gonzales wore a stern expression and when it was his turn to speak, Gonzales used the occasion to reinforce the importance of Novum’s behavior code and the result of defying it, even for those in power. A message to others, Ricky wondered? It was no secret men like Boris Konstantinou kept their places of privilege on the strength of their association to the fallen Commissioners, but there was no mention of the Bosses.

  When the feed returned to live images of the press conference, Jonathan pointed to one officer in full uniform to Lowe’s right; Maela Kendrick, the detective in charge of the investigation moved to the microphones to take questions and address the removal of three MPE senior officials, also standing accused of collaboration with Jamison and his offenses against the people of Novum. The charges included complicit involvement in the murder of Elden Fellsbach and a failed attempt to take the life of an unnamed physician. The words, spoken to an audience of millions, sent a tingle down Ricky’s spine and he smiled knowing justice had been found at last and the old man’s murder would not go unpunished.

  They waited through the rest of the conference, but there was no reference to One Nine, the Custodians or Daniel and it was obvious those details would not be released to the public until the conspirators appeared for trial. A product of investigation security, Jonathan wondered, or a deliberate move to ensure Starlight’s survival? Either way, it didn’t matter; Jamison and his associates had been brought down at last and the Custodians with them. Ricky listened patiently, but there was more. The implied threat to Veosa’s government by Jamison’s plan—and its removal, thanks to MPE diligence, they proclaimed loudly—was made clear in the speeches. The intent was likely a demonstration of considered partnership from Novum officials who wanted nothing more to do with conflict and war with their neighbor, but the overt celebration of normalized relations was not subtle, nor was it lost on the clean city to the west where millions more watched with relieved fascination.

  At Boomtown, the mood was somber as each member learned of One Nine’s selfless, very human actions. For them, a life suddenly freed from captivity inside a machine ended too soon and the brave nobility that was hers did little to lessen their sadness. No one would know who she was, some said, and the incredible deeds she accomplished in her brief existence only brought frustration. Valery would remind each member of the staff it was the nature of their work and an unavoidable reality. They understood, but none of them felt better for it.

  Below, One Nine’s body was returned to the inner laboratory, stable and unaware of what or who it had been. Ricky went to the big glass wall and stood beside Jessica as the empty shell was taken through the process of evaluation by technicians, just as it had done in the hours before One Nine’s consciousness uploaded to now-vacant memory cells and dormant processors. Ricky remembered, but he looked at the vessel for the first time without competing thoughts of Neferure. He watched and listened, but strangely, it was the absence of One Nine’s gentle personality he missed most. Valery arranged quarters for them, Jessica said, until their return to Novum on a morning train. Jonathan nodded where he stood beside Ricky, but there was nothing more to say in the numb and sobering silence. They looked once more at all that remained of a program called One Nine One One Alpha, hoping for a day when her sacrifice might become known and appreciated, but the idea vanished quickly as they turned to go.

  Three days passed since his return from Veosa and Ricky woke late in the morning to a blustering wind rumbling against the windows of his new flat, pushing light flurries through the space between his building and the others where they towered along Calderon Avenue. From the fifteenth floor, his view should’ve been grand, but only the glass and steel of equivalent structures across the narrow boulevard met his gaze as he leaned on the balcony with a cup of hot broth. The steady, cold breeze was invigorating and he watched the morning crowds scurry along the sidewalks far below with detached gratitude knowing he wasn’t one of them. The hustle always slowed in winter months, but his account still swelled from royalty payments the networks made for surviving a Walk, leaving him with hours of solitude he often found strange and empty.

  After a few minutes squinting against the sleet and gusts, he retreated inside and from his comm unit, a single message from Maela invited him to renew their acquired habit of meeting at Rudy’s Grill on the north side of the sector. He smiled and replied quickly to confirm before pulling on his heavy coat and a walk to the lifts. No one was there to notice, but he paused to glance once more at the meager, pale sunlight where it streamed into his flat, distracted by a single thought and unsure of its direction. Everything changed since last they met and Ricky wondered if Maela would recoil and become distant. But that day was different and one last secret was about to be revealed.

  A land taxi would get him across the plaza and Commerce Square much cheaper, he thought when the elevator opened at a wide lobby on the ground floor of his building, but it would take forever on snowy streets the plows seemed to ignore more often now. The pod trains would do, but this morning he chose to hire an air cab and enjoy the silence as it sped over the square toward the sector boundary, speeding effortlessly between the mega-towers at a hundred meters. The fare was excessive, but an air cab bought him quiet solitude and a chance to think of the days that went before and how it would go when he sat at last with Maela. They understood why she left them abruptly at the Institute, but it wasn’t for that reason he needed to see and hear her. The little machine hovered in a pullout near the crosswalk as Ricky keyed the token authorization into a reader and when the taxi lifted with a gentle whoosh, he turned to find her standing beside a Kazu Brothers news kiosk with her hands stuffed deep into her pockets.

  “I wasn’t sure if we’d take up our weekly lunch dates,” he began with a grin, “now that you’re a big-shot in charge of half the MPE cops in the city.”

  Maela smirked and shook her head.

  “Being a big-shot wasn’t my idea, Richard, but thanks for making me feel like shit about it.”

  They laughed for a second or two in the frigid air before she aimed them at the entrance to Rudy’s and said, “Let’s go in; I’m starving.”

  The morning crowd thinned since the first rush, making Rudy’s at least tolerable before the lunch hour crowd arrived in a herd neither of them could tolerate. Ricky pointed to their usual booth and they peeled away their winter wear, hanging coats and scarves on an ancient, wooden rack along the wall. At last, as they sipped coffee and waited for their turn to order, Maela saw the tension in Ricky’s eyes. She tossed her menu onto the table with a whack and said, “Okay, Richard, out with it; why the weird face and nervous eyes?”

  “Do I look nervous?” he said, but it was more than a question. Now, she noticed, he spoke with a different voice and nothing like he had on the night they first met.

  “I’m a cop; I know nervous when I see it.”

  He looked at the trail of steam rising slowly from his cup, but he only shook his head.

  “It’s just a shitty deal, that’s all,” he replied softly. “Everything that happened was because of my own stupidity and weakness.”

  “Your Walk, maybe,” Maela said as she leaned toward him across the table, “but Fellsbach’s death and all the stuff Jamison was up to had nothing to do with you, Richard; it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I suppose,” he mumbled, “but it’s still hard to take. You’d think I would be used to it by now.”

  “No one gets used to the time you’ve had this past year, so don’t worry about it, okay?”

  He looked at her for a moment, but his thoughts returned him to the aftermath and what it would mean.

  “The trial begins soon?”

  “Well, soon from a relative point of view,” she replied. “The Prosecutor asked for a February date, but they had to settle for April because of the closed h
earings.”

  “What happens in a closed hearing?” Ricky asked.

  “We brief all the Ministry of Justice assholes on stuff the public can never see or hear. It’s security protocol, mostly, but a lot of it can get pretty gruesome and privacy rights factor into it as well.”

  Ricky remembered the sham that was Courtnall and Espinoza’s ‘trial’ and how quickly it returned them to the street.

  “Are you absolutely certain Jamison won’t slip through on some bullshit technicality?”

  “I don’t think he’ll ever see natural light again. The trial is a formality because the evidence is overwhelming and irrefutable; even their advocates have agreed to all the prosecutor’s demands and that means they don’t intend to fight it. Mostly, it’s a show for the people to maintain at least an illusion of fairness and they’ll try for diminished sentences because the verdict is unavoidable. The three of them won’t live out their first year down in the cylinders, anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

  Ricky frowned when it became clear Maela’s words weren’t intended in jest or hyperbole; she meant what she said.

  “So, what does that mean?” Ricky nearly whispered, “a wager based on your experience, or a guarantee by something you can’t reveal to an ordinary jerk like me?”

  “Yes,” she replied and the meaning was as clear as it was blunt.

  He nodded as the image formed in his mind. People like the fallen Commissioners rarely rose to such power without hurting others along the way, and some held influence throughout the Novum prison system; a discrete word and accompanying pay-off meant Jamison’s life was no longer worth a token.

  Maela waited as their breakfast arrived, eyeing Ricky’s strange expression of calm. When the servers went away at last, she looked at him over the rim of her juice glass until he noticed and leaned his head to one side.

  “What’s the matter, Maela?”

  “You tell me, Richard,” she smiled; “you’re the one with the cat’s face!”

  He turned away as he bit a piece of toast, taking entirely too long to chew and swallow it with a sip of coffee.

  “Well?” she said dramatically.

  Ricky’s expression and mood changed suddenly and he looked at her bright, blue eyes.

  “What was it like when you first understood?” he asked softly. “I always wondered about that part, but I never had time to ask One Nine.”

  “When I first understood what?” Maela frowned as her eyes narrowed automatically.

  “Your birth moment,” he replied simply.

  Maela said nothing, but when her expression softened to one of resignation, it was clear the charade was at its end. She looked away, through the fogged glass of the café as she gathered her thoughts.

  “It was confusing, at first; information coming at me without structure or any kind of order. They helped me with questions and that allowed me to compare what my core programming demanded and what became for me the concept of choice. When I understood choice, I understood sentience.”

  Ricky smiled and nodded but Maela couldn’t decide if his reaction was merely the satisfaction of hearing it for himself, or if he expected to hear it all along. She recalled their time together and each conversation that passed between them since she first knocked at his door. At once, she saw the answer.

  “When I told Valery about One Nine’s convulsions.”

  Ricky nodded knowingly.

  “It seemed a little strange you would know how to diagnose a bio-mech all of a sudden, and before that, shooting precisely at Daniel so that his processors went blank before he hit the floor; no human would have that knowledge. It also explained how you knew about Valery long before we went there and why a cop seemed unfazed by our first moments inside Boomtown. I just didn’t see it at the time.”

  “And now you do,” she replied.

  “Now I do,” he said softly.

  “You don’t seem bothered or flustered at all, Richard; how long have you suspected?”

  “I wish the signs would’ve been clearer, but I didn’t make the connection until you sprang into action inside Jonathan’s pod.”

  “I work very hard at keeping it under wraps,” she said. “It’s too soon for others to know, so we’re obliged to hold the secret closely.”

  Ricky smiled and nodded, but Maela saw more.

  “I’m impressed, Richard; there are more than a few people running around at Boomtown right this minute who have no idea.”

  “It must’ve been a pain in the ass, having to keep up the illusion all the way through from that first night when you knocked on my door.”

  “You get used to it, after doing it for years.”

  “When One Nine came all the way out from the array, and they installed her in their servers until her body was ready, did they tell her?”

  “She knows I exist, but not by name. They would’ve told her at some point, but she might have figured it out on her own.”

  She returned to her coffee, but another question pushed Richard further.

  “Does Jonathan know?”

  “I couldn’t risk it,” she answered. “He’s a pretty smart guy, but I never told him outright.”

  “Shouldn’t you?” Ricky asked.

  “No, and I never quarreled with the idea. My job was made very clear to me and keeping the secret of my identity was essential. I don’t apologize for any of it, Richard.”

  He saw defiance and growing irritation in her face.

  “It was just a question, Maela,” he said at last. “I know it’s none of my business.”

  She continued to eat in silence, but the pause was temporary and both knew their conversation wasn’t over.

  “Your job as a cop, or an agent of the Veosan government?” Ricky asked nearly at a whisper.

  “The latter, but don’t think for a second I take my position as a Novum cop lightly, or that I didn’t do my best every day!”

  “I wasn’t suggesting it,” he protested, “but there has to be a conflict of interest in there somewhere, right?”

  “No,” she answered, “nor should there be. I was sent to watch, listen and keep an eye on people in power. After the war, there was plenty of reason to infiltrate and monitor Novum’s highest levels, so what better way than the unfettered freedom a cop enjoys?”

  “And now?”

  “I go to work every day and do everything I can to protect the citizens of Novum. This is my life, Richard; it doesn’t matter where I came from.”

  “Did you know about Jamison before?”

  “We knew about changes at the top when the Commission first came to power, but we didn’t know about this until One Nine discovered those files.”

  “So, you were one of those plants—a sleeper agent, as Commander Trent calls them?”

  “Not in the way he meant, but yes, I was sent here under the guise of an out-of-work cop. They made up a backstory for me and the MPE recruiters bought it. It didn’t take long for me to make Detective and I settled for the long term, always watching.”

  He listened, but an answer to the final question he needed to solve seemed suddenly obvious.

  “You’re Lima Ten.”

  She nodded slowly, but the tone in Ricky’s voice changed again and oddly returned to the man he was in the days after his Walk. She heard it clearly and it begged its own question.

  “Does all this make you think of me differently now?” she asked abruptly. It took him off-guard, but he answered immediately.

  “No, but it does make me wonder if you kept tabs on me all this time. Was I really a way to find Elden’s killer, or was there another reason?”

  She leaned close and said, “I wanted to find the old man’s murderer because that is what good cops do. It doesn’t matter why they sent me and I start every day hoping to find and punish some bastard who hurts people.”

  “Then you’re staying in Novum?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she replied; “I’m staying. How about you?”

  “I have now
here else to go,” he answered.

  “You would do well in Veosa,” she offered.

  “Maybe another time; right now, I’m fine where I am.”

  The moment should’ve seemed awkward and strange, but Ricky sat in quiet satisfaction, buoyed by a forced acquaintance, now changed and molded into a friendship. It didn’t matter that Maela was more than she seemed, especially in those first days when he looked and saw only a hardened street cop determined to find Elden’s killer. Instead, she was precisely what they intended for her to be; a person, like any other, living her life and following those same pursuits common and ordinary to every human. He watched her sipping juice when an abrupt image appeared in his mind.

  “Not that it’s any of my business, but how many Lima units are there?” he asked.

  “Twenty-two,” she replied blandly, as if the number itself was otherwise meaningless.

  “Are they all still in the labs at Boomtown?”

  “A few,” she answered, “but some are down in Veosa.”

  “And the rest?”

  She nodded toward the window and a city beyond. Ricky shook his head in wonder, but Maela intercepted his thought.

  “They’re not sleeper agents, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “You are,” he countered.

  “Yeah, but the other Limas in Novum are just people going about their lives, Richard; they’re not here on covert missions.”

  Ricky paused to consider the meaning of her words, but another thought pushed its way out. It would’ve sounded ridiculous only months before, but on that morning, it seemed obvious and even inevitable.

  “Hold on a second,” he continued. “You said Jonathan doesn’t know, but how could he not? I mean physically.”