Attribution

by Christine Horner

  Ruminating on negativity didn’t come without a cost. She latched onto an image of Hemmy to momentarily buoy her flagging spirit before it fell again. She’d hit rock bottom once in her life. The idea that there was a new rock bottom to claw out of left her with barely the energy to breathe.

  “No!” Truby slammed her BioID on the desk hard enough to hurt her wrist. At the same time, a thunderous BOOM filled the room. Holding her arm, she winced in pain, leaping up to investigate.

  A bruised forearm quickly turning purple, Truby pushed through a throng of curious misfits to find a surveillance glider enmeshed in bulging fencing. Entangled nose up, it must have bounced upon impact.

  “Back up, folks. Back up,” said Pete when he saw Truby approaching. An unlit cigar hung out of his mouth. He bent forward on his walking stick to peer inside the thing the length of an old Inn airport shuttle, about twenty-one feet.

  Truby crowded in next to him, cupping her hands to shade the tinted windows from the glare of the sun. Like Pete, she’d never seen one this close. She was surprised to see an actual cockpit. She’d assumed they weren’t made for humans.

  “Fell and got back up?” Pete’s attention shifted to inspect Truby’s swollen arm.

  “Something like that.” Truby’s eyes locked onto something inside the glass. “Hector!” She waved Hector in without looking away. He’d been a couple of yards behind her moments earlier. “Take a look, will you?”

  Hector’s brow wrinkled in confusion before smoothing out. Then came a wide smile. Etched in the service screen were crude markings only someone with their shared history would understand.

  CHAPTER 32

  “That looks like a gazelle to you?” squinted Cadence doubtfully.

  “Ish,” said Hector slipping on smart glasses. Still grinning, he connected the glider’s little black box sitting on the Inn’s dining table to his computer. “He didn’t want just anyone to recognize the symbol.”

  “He could have put a little more effort into it. Like this.” Cadence lithely dropped into a back bend, grabbing onto her left ankle anchored to the Earth, her right ankle lifting toward the sky. “If he’d drawn a stick figure like this, I’d have known it was him for sure. Gazelle pose”

  “You’d have been the only one,” said Truby. She had to look away. The pose made her wrist hurt. “Teach that one to Pete next.”

  Recognizing Zedd’s primitive marking scratched into the aircraft’s service screen, he’d easily broken into the surveillance glider with the help of a couple of crafty Gritts. Gritt was the media’s name for illegal off-gridders meant to dehumanize them. Several Gritts had run back to camp to pick out custom-made tools that looked like they were used to break into things more than repair them.

  “The glider’s black box runs on a continuous loop that transmits back to a programmed I.P. address in a cloud somewhere,” said Hector. “Cadence!”

  She flipped forward out of gazelle pose and into her seat in front of her computer faster than Truby could look away.

  “Hit me!”

  “As often as possible, baby! Three, two, one.”

  A holographic gazelle rose out of Hector and Cadence’s computers, leaping into the black box together.

  They seemed to be in a good mood for some reason. Truby turned to accept the Cuban Pete’s extended hand offered. It was dry and leathery, and nearly the same color. He sat at the table as if he didn’t have a care in the world, feet propped up on another chair. How she longed to be like him. She lit her cigar and inhaled. Just as good as she remembered.

  “Clean living,” Pete winked at her before a cloud of Cuban smoke covered his face.

  “Hold on. Still working past encryption,” said Hector. “I’m in!”

  Truby propped her feet up and puffed on her cigar pretending to be Pete. It wasn’t working.

  “Breaks my heart all over again,” he bemoaned.

  Truby twirled the cigar between her fingers, watching the smoke curl. She thought Pete was talking about the loss of the love of his life, or maybe his sex life, until she looked up. On the media screen was video from the surveillance glider. Her stomach began to churn.

  “That’s the Grand Canyon?” asked Cadence.

  “Grand Reservoir. Lined and covered to store water.” Truby stood to extricate herself from the growing haze. “Then it’s sent down the Rio Grande inside a pipeline for national and international distribution until other countries complete their water superstructures per the Global Security Council initiative.” She coughed once, waving away the smoke to continue. “Besides the loss of one of seven natural wonders of the world, indigenous peoples claimed the ground was restless and would refuse to hold water. They warned against the conversion to a reservoir.”

  “You cannot force what’s not meant to be.” Pete shook his head sadly, “I should know.”

  “Why is Zedd showing us this?” asked Cadence.

  “Cadence, my little enigma, how can you be such an innocent and a—”

  “Hector, can you get us fresh infrared satellite images?” Truby moved in closer.

  “Probably. Standby.”

  “Wait! Zoom in.”

  Hector zoomed in, enlarging a moving object on the ground. “That?”

  “As close as you can.” Truby stood on a chair.

  A semi-truck labeled water emerged from the covered canyon. A few seconds later, several more followed like a line of silver ants.

  “Water trucks?” remarked Truby. “They pipe it out.”

  “Black market!” Cadence interjected.

  “There’s my little conspiracy theorist!” Hector slapped Cadence’s backside.

  “Knock it off, Hector! Get me satellite images,” growled Truby.

  “Yes, boss! Give me a sec. I’m not Zedd.”

  “Damn straight you’re not!” Zedd, dusty, dirty, and sunburnt sauntered into the room, quite pleased with himself.

  “Got satellite images! Zero, you are not needed here.”

  “The devil incarnates. Have a seat and explain yourself.” Pete pushed out the chair his feet rested upon, patting the seat.

  “Sorry about ditching everyone, except Thor.”

  Unimpressed, Truby turned back to the media screen. Infrared images of the Reservoir were dark gray indicating warm emissions.

  Cadence folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes accused Zedd. Glancing at the media screen, “Water would be a cool white, wouldn’t it?”

  “Not if the canyon’s covered in solar panels or that crystalline structure filled with tiny electric dipoles.” Truby tried to remember. “Perovskites!”

  “Those water trucks.” Zedd winked playfully at Cadence.

  “Aren’t carrying water,” finished Truby. She turned a chair around to sit backward, hands folded over the chair back top. “First, debrief, and then, we’ll talk about why you did what you did.”

  “Last time I checked, it’s a free country, and you’re not my mother.”

  “Your definition of freedom is a strange one,” said Pete.

  Feeling unappreciated, Zedd’s cheery disposition dissolved. “My vehicle broke down, which is why I sent you a present in case I couldn’t make it back. I’m not going to lie. It looked dicey for a while.”

  “What’d you do, walk?” winked Pete.

  “Nah, I cut down a couple of surveillance gliders, one for parts. Surprisingly easy by the way.”

  Truby absentmindedly dropped the strange rock she’d been rolling around in her hand onto the wood floor with a clatter.

  “I bet there’s a story there,” puffed Pete.

  CHAPTER 33

  Truby leaned heavily against a workbench in an old service shed Zedd had dragged them out to see. Vision blurred, she felt like she was going to pass out. It was a sure sign a migraine was coming, and she fought hard against it.

  “This is the one,” confirmed Pete. “Under here,” indicating the workbench where he’d found his fireworks.

  “You knew there were service ve
hicles on the property and it didn’t occur to you to tell someone?” Truby tried to sound stern, but her world was spinning. She clung to the bench with the arm that didn’t ache.

  “Everything is delivered. Why do we need vehicles?” Pete crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively. “There are more fireworks in that closet in the corner. Is there anything else you’d like to know?” he challenged.

  “This thing is toast.” Zedd was under the hood of a retired flying service vehicle, one of the originals. He pulled out a dead rattlesnake, and other animal nesting materials causing everyone to jump back.

  “Sabotage!”

  Truby ignored Cadence. “What about your car, Zedd?”

  “I was able to get back here, but barely.”

  Truby’s vision doubled, and she felt like she was going to puke. She instinctively slid to the ground. There was no stopping it. Somewhere deep in the far recesses of her mind, Hector and Zedd’s arguing was met with applause...

  2021 :: Stockholm, Sweden — Onstage in an auditorium, Hemmy and the other two child geniuses were each presenting proposed designs for the water superstructure to a small audience of Global Security Council scientists. Behind the children at a long table was the project’s planning committee. Each committee member was dressed casually in GSC WREN Project athleisure wear to make the children feel more comfortable.

  Thomas suspected the double wren bird logo was also to remind the adults why they were there, to serve the common good of humankind, not personal agendas. From the audience, Thomas carefully observed GSC General Lindor Stenberg, China’s General Chen, General Frohm, Major Young, and several other committee members from other countries representing both sexes, the farther North on the globe, the more women.

  Thomas asked a security guard for the bathroom. Once there, he slipped in his earbud wirelessly connected to his smartwatch, “Housekeeping, please.”

  “One moment, sir,” said a woman’s cheery voice with an accent Thomas couldn’t identify. “Your room has been cleaned and sanitized.”

  “Quickly. I’ll be missed. Ever heard of Rare Earth minerals? Portable electronic devices like cellphones, computer memory, other electronic gadgets contain some. The military industrial complex relies on them. The military’s trillion-dollar F-35 is loaded down with them.”

  “Oh, yes, I know dat ting! China is the world supplier. Didn’t the U.S. have a mine for a bit?”

  They’d never met though he’d known Obaba for several years. Thomas had tried many times to imagine Obaba but failed. He purposely didn’t want to be able to identify her if required.

  “In California. Financial difficulty forced it to shut down. We have a trade deal going with China anyway. Evidently, the new water project requires rare earth elements for both geothermal and hydropower operations.”

  “Dat’s not good to be dependent on China like dat. And now the whole world?”

  Thomas was quiet as he worked through the implications. “I don’t know. I feel like there’s more to the story than the Chinese controlling Rare Earth minerals they essentially already had locked up going into the project.”

  “Let’s investigate for any self-dealing,” Obaba suggested. “You know, follow the money kinda ting. Can you get us anything that will corroborate this new info so we can post the story in the next satellite window in ten minutes?”

  Thomas sighed. He knew it was going to come to this eventually. “My security clearance is limited to chaperoning and I promised myself I would never take advantage of Hemmy.”

  “Then take advantage of the situation. It’s your policy,” Obaba intoned sternly. “As long as you aren’t a source, nobody can come after you.”

  Back in the auditorium, his wife, Claire, smiled at Thomas as he flipped open a personal bottle of hand lotion before sitting down. Nodding at the security guard nearby, he stood again, moving toward the stage gingerly.

  “May I?” Thomas inquired. “I apologize to this esteemed audience. I was wondering if I could ask my daughter a question.”

  A senior German scientist the children were especially fond of responded, “By all means, Herr. Let us not keep you from your daughter.”

  “Yes, Daddy?”

  “Well, I was just curious. If most electronic gizmos need, oh, what are those special rocks?”

  “Rare Earth minerals, Daddy.”

  “Yes, Rare Earth minerals!” Thomas gave the nearly empty lotion bottle a shake to work it down. “Wouldn’t you need lots and lots?” The lotion wouldn’t come. “Lots and— Well, like that!”

  The bottle squirted too much lotion into his palm causing Hemmy and Payton to giggle at the rude noise that came with it.

  Starzl, the boy genius, seized the moment, “I can answer that. It will take tons of—”

  “Starzl!” admonished a male scientist with a silver mustache. “You’ve repeatedly been cautioned to observe proper security protocol.”

  Still smaller than the girls, the boy hung his head with a strange look on his face.

  Hemmy carefully looked to the scientists for a nod. “Yes. It will take lots.”

  “Just what I was thinking!” Thomas kept working at the excess lotion. “Well, do we really have enough? I mean, where would we get so much?”

  “That’s not a problem at all, Daddy! There’s plenty in China, and more in the United—” Hemmy slapped her hand over her mouth just as the mustached scientist shook his head in disbelief.

  Thomas raised his hands, backing up the aisle, “Thank you, honey, that, that was my only thought. Keep up the good work! Uh, unless anybody wants some of this.”

  Thomas hastily turned, gesturing to the security guard he was going back to the bathroom to wipe off his hands. Claire looked at him oddly as he passed by shrugging his shoulders.

  In the private bathroom, he spoke quietly into his smartwatch. “Don’t ever ask me to do that again,” before disconnecting the call.

  Pete sat on the floor of the shed next to Truby holding her cold hand as the pain in her head subsided, her vision clearing. Lost in their odd love/hate triangle, Hector, Zedd, and Cadence hadn’t noticed anything unusual until the argument ended.

  “Why are you two holding hands?” asked Zedd.

  “Just a little headache,” answered Pete, paternally patting Truby’s hand.

  Truby reached up for the edge of the workbench to pull herself up. “Every moment we waste fighting amongst ourselves is one more they win. Do what you have to so we can leave as soon as possible.”

  CHAPTER 34

  “Why are those people here?” Truby stood like a sentinel in the soft glow of limpid moonlight. They were so much alike, steadfast, formidable... crusty. Truby wondered if she would end up like “her,” Pete’s beloved Old Faithful.

  She hadn’t heard from Young since before the earthquake. The irony was that it was almost beginning to bother her more than when she had him breathing down her neck.

  Had she, too, dried up, become feckless, an artifact for the history books? Would she be remembered for what she accomplished in life or only for the murky circumstances surrounding her death?

  No matter, Truby vowed to tell “her” story and tell it well before the victors defiled it for their own paltry glorification.

  “Why not?” Pete’s new walking sticking arrived to stand next to Truby before he did. It was as tall as he was, made of Tupelo, and decorated with cords of dyed leather, crystals, and a long white feather.

  “Nice,” was all that Truby said.

  “A gift. I think so, too,” Pete inspected it as if he’d received it only moments earlier.

  Truby heard the ringing of laughter in the nearby off-grid, or Gritt camp, as the two boys called it to Truby’s displeasure. She knew there was more to the story, to each one of their stories, as Pete was fond of saying.

  “Is everyone getting enough to eat?”

  “Oh, sure.” Then he added, “Damn delivery drones.” He lifted his new walking stick hitting the ground with its tip
. “I doubt the government will even notice I’ve quadrupled the food requisition.”

  Truby smiled. “The liverwurst?”

  “I sent it back requesting a refund. Let them try and figure that one out.”

  She remained silent. They stood in front of Old Faithful for a long while. Together, they held vigil in the stillness for all that was, all that is, and all that was yet to come.

  Finally, Pete grunted, turning Truby's way pointedly, waiting for her unspoken question.

  Truby stared straight ahead refusing to meet his gaze. God, the moon was beautiful. “What about... them?” She couldn’t say their names. She was afraid his answer would hurt. This way she kept a little distance between herself and the other two park employees, just in case.

  Pete inhaled deeply, looking toward Old Faithful and then Truby as if deciding. He exhaled, “What about them?” He began to walk away, the crunch of the ground under slow, careful steps. “When one stumbles around in the dark long enough, one becomes the dark.”

  Who was he talking about?

  “I can’t change the past, Pete.”

  Pete retraced his steps to stand directly in front of Truby. “Look at me.” When she did, “Give me what’s in your pocket.”

  Truby fished out the stone, holding it in her open palm. Pete took the inanimate object, tossing it into the geyser’s opening like an offering.

  “No!”

  Wolves howled in the distance. Truby felt a chill go through her body. Then, Pete handed the rock back to her. It had been a magic trick.

  “Love withstands all darkness even when guilt doesn’t allow us to accept it.” Pete winked at Truby, “I should know.”

  He left her to walk toward camp, letting out a startling wolf howl like an alpha calling to his pack. The Gritts returned his howl.

  “Hear that?” he called back to Truby.

  CHAPTER 35

  In the service shed, car parts were scattered all around Zedd’s flying vehicle. He leaned back from the under the hood, smudges of dirt and oil on his face. “If we’re lucky, only the battery will catch fire.”