by Dena Nicotra
“Well, okay. See, the main DNS server is behind the firewall, well – two layers of firewalls technically, but there’s a secondary…”
I held up a hand, “Could you drop the geek speak?”
“Oh, sorry,” he scratched his head and then tried again, “If I can re-route the servers, I can set in a new data path with my own code and force a simp update that would wipe Yen’s virus.”
I laughed. “You’re pretty full of shit, you know that? Are you always this delusional?”
“I’m not delusional. It’s totally possible, and I’m really busy. Could you just go find another hole to crawl in? I’m done trying to talk to you. I don’t need you here. I was here first, so just,” he waved his hand toward the direction I’d come, “just go someplace else.”
“Don’t piss me off. I’m hungry, hot, and seriously over-tired. I will launch a piece of cement at your head if you don’t do what I say.”
He reached for a duffle bag to his right.
“Keep your damn hands where I can see them!” I snapped.
“Chill,” he said, and tossed me an orange. Since I was still holding my slingshot it hit me in the right breast and landed on the dirt at my feet.
“Oh, wow. Sorry.”
I shoved my slingshot back in my pocket and bent down to pick up the orange. Peeling back the skin, I glared at him. “What makes you think you can do something when no one else has been able to in the last two years?
“It takes time, and most of the developers who worked at IDE, Inc., are dead. I’m not saying that others haven’t tried. I mean, I know that I’m not the only one – but I have inside information, and that gives me an advantage.”
I took a seat on the ground across from him and popped a chunk of orange in my mouth. “Then why haven’t you done it yet?” I said, with my mouth still full. I had to admit, the sweet flavor was refreshing.
“I told you, it takes time, and I had some other things going on.”
“What other things?”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Okay, cool. Whatever. We all have stories like that.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. We sat in silence for a few minutes and I polished off the last segment of fruit, wishing for another one as I wiped my sticky fingers on my jeans.
“So what’s your name?” he asked.
“I’m Hailey Pachello.”
“Gizzard,” he said, extending his fair-skinned, bony hand.
“Gizzard huh?”
“Yep. Leonard Gizzard O’Malley,” he said with a grin that made him look much younger.
“Why Gizzard?”
“It’s a nickname.”
“No. Really?” I laughed, and he did too.
Gizzard, I learned, was twenty-five. Just a year younger than me and he’d already gone to college and had a master’s degree in computer programming. I’d spent the last year in the old world the same way I’d spent every year since I was a sixteen year old kid, working at my dad’s deli. Before the war, it was one of the last places in town that didn’t have any simp employees. We didn’t need them and my dad didn’t like them. I’d never gone up for re-education because I didn’t have to. My stomach rumbled at the thought of our fresh sausage and cheeses.
“So, how long have you been traveling alone?” I asked.
“It’s been six months, three days, and approximately fourteen hours.”
“Are you kidding me? You have it down to the hour?”
“You would too,” he said dully.
“It’s been almost two years for me,” I offered. Gizzard nodded and stared off at a memory.
“I’d give anything to undo that day.”
I tried to think of the right words to say, but nothing came out so I just nodded in agreement. Everyone had lost someone in all of this. Most people had stories that would make you forget how to sleep at night. The simps were brutal and their lack of sympathy, empathy, or any other emotion made them evil beyond human comprehension. I had a neighbor that watched as a simp ripped his wife’s heart out of her chest while she was sleeping on the couch. The worst part was, the simp was their eight-year-old synthetic “daughter.” The simp kid stood there with her mother’s heart in her hand and said some line from an old western movie before asking for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, (simps have complex synthetic digestive systems with disposable waste sacks. Another upgrade from IDE, Inc.). He took the kid out with a butter knife through the base of her skull. The sad part was, he actually grieved over her as if she’d been real. It made me sick to watch him get choked up over it.
“How are you connecting to the internet?” I asked.
“I’m working off a wireless router. We’re close enough for me to get a signal from here.”
“Close enough to what?”
“IDE, Inc. of course.” He said, raising his skinny arms over his head to stretch. I frowned.
“How close?”
“It’s about twenty minutes south of here.” I’d been walking right toward the most dangerous location in the city and hadn’t even known it. I cursed, realizing that the sun was going down now. I didn’t want to be anywhere near IDE, Inc., but I didn’t want to be out there walking in the dark. Moreover, I really didn’t want to go back the way I’d come. It had been a horrible experience and much of the way was a stretch of freeway, void of food or water resources. My last bit of water had come from a cooler in an older motor home. It was also the last place I’d had a shower. I shifted uncomfortably and went over my options.
“You can stay here tonight,” Gizzard said.
“Well, that’s really generous of you. Like I was going anywhere.”
Gizzard ignored my sarcasm and cracked open a warm liter bottle of orange soda. “Sip?” He asked after taking a big gulp and belching.
“No. Thanks.” He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
I rolled my eyes and busied myself with checking over my inventory of personal possessions. In my pack I had a roll of gauze, my water bottle, a can of tuna, my sweatshirt, and a few other useless items. A can-opener wasn’t one of them.
Seeing my stash, Gizzard stopped clacking on his keyboard.
“I’ve got a can-opener,” he said casually.
“Sweet.” He tossed it to me and I made short work of opening the little can. My mouth was watering by the time I got to the last click – and then I realized that it would be rude not to offer him some.
“I’ve got a box of saltines. We could make a little feast,” he suggested. How could I say no?
“Sure, why not?”
We made a make-shift table out of a flat section of the broken concrete and enjoyed our meal of tuna, crackers, and warm orange soda. It was nice to have some food in my stomach and, as much as I hated to admit it, it was nice to have human company. It meant that I could actually get some sleep. Gizzard shut down his laptop to preserve his battery and agreed to take the first watch. There was no light, so I don’t know what he was planning to do, but I didn’t have the energy to care. I snuggled my head against my pack and fell asleep faster than I had in months.
I woke up some time later to the sound of a struggle. I scrambled for my flashlight and my weapon but it was so dark and my brain was still in a sleepy fog. By the time I clicked on the flashlight, I saw the simp had Gizzard by the throat. His large pupils met my light and a slow, satisfied smile played out across his synthetic lips. His hair was peppered with realistic grey and he looked to be in his late forties. His ugly man-made fingernails were digging into the sides of Leonard “Gizzard” O’Malley’s milky white neck. Gizzard’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets, and I knew I had a short window before the simp crushed his windpipe.
“Let’s make a deal, always a winner, come on down!” He hissed. It was too dark to search for something to load in my slingshot and I doubted the effectiveness based on his size. Going for my backup plan, I reached into my boot for my blade. It wasn’t my weapon of choice, but I knew it would be more effec
tive. I threw it just as he opened his mouth to spew more game show crap. The blade sank deep in his side and then he twitched like an epileptic before falling over. Biogenetic fluid oozed from his wound and his wide-opened mouth. “No deal, you sorry sack of wires.”
“Thanks,” Gizzard said as he massaged his throat. “I was sure that was the end for the Giz.”
“Not on my watch,” I said as I struggled to flip the game show host so that I could search his pockets for supplies. Gizzard took his shoes, and I made out with a white bandana that was stuffed in his front pocket. Huffing and puffing, we climbed out of our shelter to locate his vehicle. A white van sat idling, with the headlights lighting a clear path for us.
“Do you suppose there might be others in there?” Gizzard’s high-pitched tone was a clear indication that he was afraid. He clutched the straps of his pack, which held his precious laptop and stared at me with wide eyes.
“Wait here,” I said leaving him behind a short barrier wall as I stomped off toward the van. I motioned for Gizzard once I’d determined it was empty. He slid into the passenger seat without a word. Okay, so tech boy was not a knight in shining armor. What else was new? I was used to taking care of myself, and I would have parted ways right there but I didn’t feel right leaving him on the side of the road like that. I’d get him someplace safe and then cut ties after the sun came up. Driving was risky, but it was late, so the odds were in our favor. Besides, I didn’t like the fact that game show host found us where we were.
“Head south,” Gizzard said.
“No, I don’t think so, buddy. I’m not getting any closer to simp central.”
“I’m not trying to make you go there. I know a place we can go. Just take the next exit and make a right.”
“Where to?”
“It’s a building I’ve stayed at before, and we can get supplies.”
I didn’t argue. I needed supplies more than anything else.
“How do you think he found us?” Gizzard asked, his voice still squeaking.
“He probably tracked us from your computer,” I said bluntly.
“Nope. That’s not possible, I told you that.”
“Okay Gizzard, then you tell me.”
“Giz.”
“What?”
“Just call me Giz. I don’t like the way you say Gizzard with so much condescension in your voice. You might as well call me Leonard like my mother used to.”
“Okay Giz, you need to sack up.”
“That’s easy for you to say, that thing didn’t have you by the throat.”
“I’ve had my share of close encounters.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough,” Giz said. We rode in silence until I made the right off the freeway.
“Turn in there.” He pointed to a hospital.
“Are you serious?”
“Yep. There’s not one simp in there and it’s safe – relatively comfortable too. The power is supplied by generators.”
“How do you know that?” I asked turning into the underground parking structure.
“Because my wife was a nurse and she worked here.”
“Oh.” Now it was my turn to be silent. He’d obviously lost his wife and that was pain I didn’t need to tap into. I didn’t want another story haunting me at night. I had enough of those on my own.
I followed Giz to an elevator and watched for simps until the doors opened. We made our way down a long corridor and then up a short flight of stairs to the cafeteria. The vending machines were fully stocked, and to my complete surprise, the coffee machine worked. I ate two chocolate bars, a bag of stale pretzels, and drank a steaming cup of hot black coffee. If I could get a shower I’d be as happy as a sailor in a whore house.
Giz gulped an orange soda and clacked away on his keyboard.
“So, my friend says there’s no activity to indicate my attempts to enter were discovered by the gateway.”
“English Giz, and what friend?”
“Fish, he’s a programmer, and the gateway is their network security.”
“Do you know this Fish person personally? I mean, for all you know, Fish could be a simp setting you up.”
“No way.”
I rolled my eyes and took a sip from my coffee. “And you know that because…?”
“Because Fish is a personal friend. I knew him before.”
“Well you could have just said that,” I said with a yawn.
“We can sleep in the basement. There’s an emergency shelter there with beds, and showers. We’re safest there, but I can’t get a signal down there so I’m not coming until I get tired. Just take the stairs and you’ll come to a set of double doors.” He rattled off the security code to get in and then went back to his typing. I found a change of scrubs, and just about peed my pants with joy when I found the hot water worked. There was even shampoo and soap. I flopped down on one of the beds and pulled my comb through my short dark hair. I was exhausted, but it was the best I’d felt in a long time. Maybe I’d wait a while before cutting ties with Giz. He was proving to be rather resourceful, even if he was wimpy.
I never heard Giz come in, but I woke up completely agitated with his snoring. The clock on the wall said it was almost noon, which was later than I’d slept since I was a teenager. I felt completely rested, but it was still irritating as fuck to be woken up like that. Giz still had his shoes on, and his bright red hair stuck straight up, reminding me of a rooster. I couldn’t help but wonder what his pal Fish looked like. Leave it to me to partner up with the geek squad. I wasn’t exactly a people person, and I’d become accustomed to doing things my way, when I wanted to do them. Still, Giz did have a certain charm. I collected my things and went to the bathroom to change. I decided another cup of coffee was an excellent plan, and closed the door behind me as softly as I could. It crossed my mind to slam it so that he woke up as frustrated as I had, but selfishly decided I’d rather have some time to myself to explore. The soft hum of the ventilation system seemed eerie in the light of day. Despite the state of things, my mind still expected to see other people, actively going about their jobs in such a setting. Instead, I observed rooms with dead flowers, wilted balloons, dusty counters, quiet nurse’s stations, and empty hallways.
I decided to scavenge the rooms, and that turned out to be a damn good idea because I scored a change of clothes in one, and a lighter out of a pocket in another. Along the way, I stuffed as many bars of soap and mini-lotions in my pack as I could manage. Then came my brilliant idea to check the lockers in the doctor’s lounge. I found a can of mushroom soup, a razor, and a bag of peppered beef jerky. I popped a small piece in my mouth and reveled in the flavor. My armpits and legs were in dire need of that razor and I made a silent plan to grab as many showers as I could while I was here. I smiled to myself as I closed the locker, and came face to face with a woman who looked twice my age, wearing a hospital gown. She was holding a golf club over her head and was just about to take a swing at me. How could I have been so stupid? I had no weapons on me and nothing to protect myself with beyond a disposable razor. I ducked just in time as she swung. Abandoning my stash, I turned and ran for the door. Crazy patient was right behind me, screaming like a banshee and swinging that club like she meant business. I grabbed the handle of the door and did my best to open it, but it was locked. Now I was cornered and she was coming right at me. With nothing else to do, I hunched down in the corner and covered my head with my hands. I felt helpless as random thoughts rushed through my head in that moment – thankfulness that it was likely the end of everything, disappointment in myself for not being on guard, and of course the fear of pain.
All at once, the screaming banshee stopped and dropped the golf club, sending it clanking across the floor.
“Oh my god, you’re human!”
I lifted my head and met her wide blue eyes. She was extending her hand t
o help me up but I refused her offer. She took a step closer and bent down, to show me her hands.
“I’m not a simp,” she gushed. In the back of my mind, all I could think was I’d just about met my maker at the hands of a deranged human.
I stood up and walked back to collect my stash. “What are you doing in here?” I said over my shoulder.
“I was a patient. I came in with pneumonia and I never left.”
“You mean you’ve been hanging out here for the last two years?”
She nodded. “I had no place else to go. Besides, they don’t come in here, for whatever reason.”
“So I’ve been told. What’s your name?” I asked.
“Barbara.”
“I’m Hailey,” I said with a grunt, as I stood up and brushed off my pants. Is there anyone else here or are you all by yourself?”
“I’ve got a friend,” she said with a tight smile. About that time a little boy with ebony skin appeared behind a row of lockers.
“Hey there,” I said in my best friendly tone.
“His name’s Jacob. He doesn’t talk much.” The shy child ducked back behind the lockers, safe from my prying eyes.
“His parents were murdered, and he was left for dead,” Barbara whispered. I nodded. Nothing else needed to be said about that. I didn’t want to question her with the kid in earshot.
“So, you take care of him, huh?”
“Yes, but it works both ways. Jacob takes care of me too.” Tears welled up in her eyes. I could appreciate that, but I didn’t have the emotional strength to take on her tears. I actually didn’t have the desire to get too close to anyone. It wasn’t wise, and I’d learned that the hard way. It was all I could do to change the conversation. “So, what have you guys been eating? Tell me it’s not the stale food from the vending machines.” I knew it couldn’t be, but I was fishing for answers. What was there would never have lasted for two years.
“We just take what we need from the kitchen. There’s not much left now. Canned goods mostly, but we’ll manage.”
“Well, that’s great compared to what I’ve had. Where’s the kitchen?”
“It’s on the third floor,” said Jacob from his hiding place.