She’d refused to tell him what he’d done wrong. She’d simply called the day after the faux soldier-hunters had been slain in Nairobi and announced that their intimate relationship was over, and that from here on out things between them would be “one hundred percent professional.”
“Care to tell me why?” he’d asked.
“I think you know why.”
“Believe me, I don’t.”
“That’s not my problem,” she’d snapped, hanging up.
Nick’s attention was drawn through the open bedroom door to the back window. Outside, the vivid colors of a holo show erupted above the rooftops of a row of houses a block away. Someone had begun their celebrating a few hours early.
The laselumed image was vibrant enough to pierce the smog cover. It was an accurate depiction of a Roman chariot and four horses cavorting across the polluted heavens. He had a momentary irrational desire to board that chariot, be carried away from his personal troubles.
He sighed and returned his attention to the latest box of his son’s belongings. He hadn’t realized the man had been such a pack rat until he’d finally had the chance to go through Weldon’s apartment the other day. He’d hauled away a plethora of vintage oddities, including a selection of early century videogames made for entertainment platforms long consigned to technology’s dustbin.
More germane to the brilliance of Doctor Emanuel’s life was the massive number of printed papers, a lifetime’s worth. Some were articles he’d written, including dozens that as far as Nick knew had never been published. Others were torn from magazines or newspapers, items that at one time or another over the decades had snared his attention.
Nick supposed it was only proper that a man dedicated to placing limits on science and technology wouldn’t have granted his full allegiance to digital storage. Still, the amount of physical paper he’d saved was downright fetishistic. Nick had thrown all of it into cartons, two dozen of which were now stacked against his bookcase.
He’d just finished going through the seventh box, which included such irrelevancies as the yellowing receipt for a computer Weldon had purchased in 2016, when Sosoome crept in through the cat door. The mech barrel-rolled back and forth across the living room floor, ejecting purple sparks from its battery packs. That was Sosoome’s unique way of signifying he’d just had an outstanding copulatory experience.
“Do I know her?” Nick asked absently as he sliced open the eighth carton with his safak.
“Not her, him,” Sosoome corrected. “And no, I don’t believe you’ve ever met Whammo. He’s a drudge for the Elbersons who live in that pseudo-Victorian mansion over on Bill Gates Boulevard. Ran into him a few times at the park when he had the Elbersons’ cheetah out for its daily exercising. Oh man, is he ever hot!”
“Interesting,” Nick offered, not at all interested in the details of Sosoome’s sex life. “Anything noteworthy in the newsphere this evening?”
“The usual human bullshit, wars and plagues.”
“Anything out of the ordinary?”
“Somebody set off a micronuke in Antarctica, blew away a Swedish-Norwegian research station and put a big-ass hole in the ice. Oh, and a new biotoxin was released in Los Angeles that apparently drives its victims insane. Given the city’s reputation, some newsphere wags are speculating that the biotoxin’s effects will go largely unnoticed.”
Sosoome paused to allow Nick to react to the humorous aside. When he didn’t, the mech continued.
“There are rumors of another major doomers’ conflagration. It’s set for New Year’s Day, location unknown.”
Nick frowned. Mass suicides, and the culture’s unhealthy fascination with them, had dramatically increased in size and number over recent months. Another sign of a coming apocalypse?
“Oh, and here’s one for the ‘ya gotta be shittin’ me’ column. That El Sigiloso the boys wasted a couple weeks back? Well, it turns out that our female twofer was hitched. She had a pair of human husbands. And the two hubbies have launched a civil suit against Humanity’s Avenger in the World Court, in absentia of course. They’re looking for two billion pesos for pain and suffering.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Maybe I oughta go that route, try suing you for all the crap I have to put up with.”
“C’mon, you know you love it.”
Sosoome’s remarks about the El Sigiloso brought Nick’s thoughts back to the team’s fourth triumph. The battle had gone smoothly; there’d been no hesitation on the part of Gillian and the soldiers because of the tways being female. More importantly, the victory had returned the soldier-hunters to the status of heroes in the public eye.
As a bonus, a glitch in Gillian’s personality, a subliminal holdover from his true identity as a Royal, apparently had been corrected. Gillian’s penchant for wanting the second tway left alive after killing the first one had been a problem since the first mission against Alvis Qwee. True, the remnant of that sadist hadn’t survived long. Left bound to a chair, the crazed tway had bitten off its own tongue and chewed through its cheeks to drown in its own blood.
During the team’s second battle in Kuala Lumpur, the tways had perished simultaneously. But half of the Phaeton they’d terminated in Kyoto had been left alive, writhing in the street until an angry Japanese mob put it out of its misery.
Nick had warned Gillian that his habit could create sympathy for the assassins and lead to the perception that the team itself was sadistic for not killing the second tway. Fortunately, his advice finally had been heeded. Observing the battle through the team’s helmet cams, Nick had watched with satisfaction as Gillian immediately executed the El Sigiloso’s remaining half.
For better or worse, the team’s successes had started a trend. Since Nairobi, three additional four-person combat units had surfaced across the globe, all attempting to mimic the original. Unfortunately, all had lacked the requisite skills and been quickly terminated in battles with assassins.
Nick wondered if some of those teams were actually hardcore servitors, dispatched by the Ash Ock on suicide missions against Paratwa for the specific purpose of failing, thereby stealing some of the publicity from Humanity’s Avenger. In this type of warfare, the PR battle was as important as the physical one.
Still, as long as the team continued to be successful, no amount of imitators would tarnish its reputation. The soldier-hunters would fulfill their promise of offering hope and optimism to the species, helping to counter the massive weight of zeitgeist-fueled negativity.
He turned his attention to the eighth carton of Weldon’s papers. The first few sheaves he removed were more of the same, inconsequential items. But underneath them he came across a small sealed envelope. He recognized his son’s handwriting.
TO NICHOLAS GUERRA, FOR HIS EYES ONLY. TO BE OPENED AFTER THE DEATH OF WELDON EMANUEL.
Nick tore open the envelope. Inside was a hyperlink marble. He pitched it to Sosoome, who snared it with a paw and stuffed it in an orifice.
A life-sized holo of Weldon took shape above the mech. He was standing and leaning on his cane, a typical pose. Judging by the background, the holo had been recorded in his apartment.
“Hello, Dad. By now, I’m assuming I’ve been reduced to orbital dust and that you’ve gotten past whatever degree of mourning you deemed an old man to be worth.”
The ancient face broke into a smile. Nick felt a fresh stab of grief.
“I’m afraid I’ve been keeping a few secrets from you of late. But now that I’m gone you deserve to know the truth. I realize these deceptions may make you angry, especially the second one. But know that in both instances, what I did was with the best of intentions.
“First, regarding Gillian. When I was performing the surgery to cloak his true identity, make him believe he was human, I quite by accident made a remarkable discovery. This tway of Empedocles – and most likely, all of the Ash Ock – possesses a synaptic structure unlike that of any human or binary ever autopsied.
“You
r intel from Ektor Fang revealed that the Ash Ock have extended lifespans. I can confirm that such a conclusion is an understatement. No one could have guessed the true extent of what the Royals have achieved. Gillian’s neurological makeup reveals that barring accidental death, he’s capable of living for some six hundred years.”
“That’s some scary shit,” Sosoome muttered. “Hell, I’m only rated for one-fifty.”
“Given such a remarkable capacity, I felt that Gillian deserved the chance to someday know the truth about himself, perhaps reconcile with his real identity. Unlike a regular Paratwa, an Ash Ock’s ability to exist as an independent tway may enable him, in some distant future, to survive such knowledge without going insane. Therefore, I took it upon myself to implant an additional set of mnemonic cursors in the deepest recesses of Gillian’s mind. I created a program that can be used to trigger these cursors and awaken his true self.”
“That was a dumb and dangerous thing to do,” Nick muttered.
“I knew you wouldn’t approve, which is why I kept this from you. Nevertheless, it’s a decision I stand by. The program file is located on this marble. What you do with it is up to you.
“But I hope you’ll come to reflect on the uniqueness of a creation like Gillian, who may well outlive you by half a millennium. Buried deep in his mind could be knowledge of the actual techniques used by his creators to give him such a radically extended lifespan. They’ve apparently come closer than anyone in history to discovering the mythical fountain of youth. His authentic self could hold the key to passing on such a gift to the rest of humanity.”
Nick grudgingly admitted that his son’s reasoning for implanting the additional mnemonic cursors was sound. But you should have told me.
Weldon hobbled across the room and eased himself into a chair. A grim expression came over him.
“And now to my second deception. There’s no nice way to reveal this one, so I’ll just come out with it.”
Nick listened intently, his anger growing. What his son had done to Gillian was one thing. But this second disclosure was unforgiveable. When Weldon reached the end of his revelations and the holo dissolved, Nick could barely contain his fury.
“You goddamn manipulative son of a bitch!”
Sosoome raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Runs in the family, does it?”
“Shut your face or I’ll shut you down!”
The mech ran a paw across its mouth, the universal symbol for my lips are sealed.
Nick clenched his fists, trying to control his rage. It was vital that he show Weldon’s holo to Bel immediately. He activated his attaboy and thunked her number. Not surprisingly, she didn’t answer. Since she’d dumped him, she’d been refusing to take his calls, requiring him to leave messages.
“Bel, it’s an emergency,” he began, straining to hold back his anger. “You need to come over here right away. This is more important than you can imagine. Please!”
He paused and added a final sentence. “And just in case you’re suspicious, the reason I’m asking is one hundred percent professional.”
That wasn’t true, of course. He glanced into the bedroom. As mad as he was at Weldon’s second deceit, it also provided Nick with a shot at redemption.
Forty-Five
“She’s here,” Sosoome announced, letting Bel through the downstairs entryway without comment.
Nick’s anger had been reduced from a boil to a simmer in the forty-five minutes since he’d made the call. The fact was, his son’s blatant manipulation had a silver lining. Still, he wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive Weldon for what he’d done.
He opened the door as Bel reached the top of the stairs. She froze when she saw him. For a moment he had the sense that she was going to change her mind and dash back down the steps.
“This had better be good,” she warned, brushing past him and entering the apartment.
She had on a winter coat he’d never seen before, black and gold and expensive looking. His offer to hang it up was met with an annoyed grimace.
“Want to sit down?”
“Get to the point, Nick. I’m supposed to be at a charity auction when the new year strikes.”
“This won’t take long,” he said, nodding to Sosoome.
The mech replayed Weldon’s beyond the grave message, starting at the point where he’d come clean about his second deception.
“You’ve been as good a father as any son could expect. There were plenty of years when I didn’t realize that. Obviously, in my younger days, such a viewpoint was greatly distorted by anger at your having abandoned me and my mother. But during the decade that we came to know one another as adults, your true nature became as clear to me as one of those rare days when the smog pulls back and the sun shines through.
“I’ve had a good life, Nick. I have no major regrets with one exception. That exception, unfortunately, involves you.
“I know that you never really got over the divorce with Mom, and that it’s the main reason you left us. It’s also the reason you’ve avoided any close relationships in this era. But honestly, Nick, you deserve the special happiness that I enjoyed with my own wife for nearly three quarters of a century.
“And so, admittedly with a few qualms, I decided to try my hand at matchmaking. I took steps to push you toward a woman with whom you were clearly enamored, a woman who you believed could develop deep feelings for you.”
Nick glanced at Bel. Her expression remained cold.
“There was a chance that you and Bel would have gotten together naturally. However, my gut told me that such a thing was unlikely. Too many barriers to overcome, both social and personal. You both would have rationalized, for different reasons, that it wasn’t a smart idea to develop a personal relationship. That probably would have been the end of it.”
Weldon paused and leaned forward in his chair. “And so, just in case you haven’t figured out what I’ve been leading up to, here it is.
“Three days after the attack on E-Tech headquarters, I listened to you talk about what a wonderful and engaging woman you’d found Bel to be, and that you sensed she was attracted to you as well. And so I took action. I pitstopped you, Nick. I spiked your wine when we were dining together that evening. The next morning, at the regents’ meeting where Bel learned she would be E-Tech’s new director, I did the same to her, adding the tranqs to her coffee. Naturally, beforehand, I’d surreptitiously obtained DNA samples from both of you in order to prime the tranqs and create a mutual attraction.”
“My God,” Bel whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.
Weldon stopped talking, as if aware that at this point a few moments were needed to absorb the revelation. When he spoke again, his voice was more subdued.
“I realize it’s cowardly of me to tell you all this after I’m gone. I don’t have to face your anger. But even if I was still around, I wouldn’t apologize for my manipulations. I believe they were in the service of a good cause. You deserve to be happy, as does Bel. Both of you deserve a shot at the kind of satisfying and fulfilling existence that I enjoyed for more than my fair share of years. I hope that when you get past your initial reactions you’ll be able to look at this from the perspective that it was done out of love.”
A faint smile touched the ancient face. “As you know, I don’t believe in an afterlife. But just in case I’ve figured wrong, please remember to look me up when you get there.”
The holo dissolved. Nick turned to Bel, waiting for her to speak. When she didn’t he jumped into the void.
“My son was on the money about one thing. I was honestly attracted to you from the first time we met.”
He wasn’t sure if Bel actually heard him. Her cheeks had reddened and her jaws were clenched with barely contained rage.
“The bastard! He had no right!”
“No argument.”
“It borders on criminal!”
Actually, it doesn’t. Considering the greater acceptance of emotional manipulation throughout this culture
, Nick figured it could be grounds for a civil suit but little else. He kept his mouth shut, however. It wasn’t the right moment to slam Bel with such rational ideas. She was too mad. No doubt some of her anger arose from the realization that Doctor Weldon Emanuel, her personal hero and the man who’d inspired her toward a career, could be capable of such a betrayal.
She finally seemed to calm down. She drew a deep breath, as if trying to gather her thoughts.
“I had no right to be angry at you, Nick. I made a terrible mistake. I’m sorry.”
“Completely understandable. I’m just glad I finally get why you were so pissed at me. I gather you did the test regimen for pitstopping?”
“And took the cure. Medically, you’re out of my system.”
They both hesitated, unsure of what the next step should be for repairing the fracture.
“Look, it’s OK,” he said finally. “I’m not upset that you came to believe that I was the one who’d tranqed you. Hell, knowing what a manipulative person I am, I’d have come to the same conclusion.”
“Amen,” Sosoome whispered.
Nick glared down at him. The mech took the hint, trotted toward the cat door.
“I think I’ll go out for a stroll. I expect the fireworks will be starting soon.”
Bel waited until Sosoome was gone before explaining.
“I wasn’t suspicious of you, Nick. That’s not how things happened.”
She told him about Gillian, about the face sniffing. Nick frowned. He and Gillian had been in close proximity far more often than Gillian and Bel had. There was an obvious conclusion to be drawn from that.
Gillian picked up on my pitstop scent too but decided not to tell me.
Was his reason for holding back related to his weird attraction to Bel, part of some subliminal plot churning in the depths of that unique tway-mind? A way for Gillian to push Nick out of Bel’s life so that he could worm his way in?
They were questions without answers.
“I should go,” Bel said.
“I really wish you wouldn’t. Look, we both have the right to be mad at Weldon. But there’s no sense in continuing to be that way with each other.”
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