The Warehouse

by Rob Hart

  “Then why keep it secret?”

  He sat back in his chair, gave her an Are you kidding me? look. “Because it’s nearly limitless energy. How do you monetize that? Though the truth is, I’m thinking bigger. I think it’s time to put the lumbering old beast of government out of its misery. And this is how I’m going to do it.”

  “This is some supervillain bullshit,” Zinnia said. “You’re going to take over the world?”

  “No, dear, I’m going to offer it to any country that wants it, free and clear, in exchange for privatizing the majority of their services and letting us run them. I proved with the FAA we can do a better job. I mean, honestly, do you want to put world-changing technology in the hands of those clowns in Congress? What’ll they do with it? They’ll sit on it. They’ll regulate it to death. Or they’ll try to kill it, because it interferes with the gas and oil lobbies. No. I’m the one to do this.”

  “Why?”

  His face stretched into a smile so wide she thought his skin might crack. “Because I am exceptional.”

  He said it with pride, but with his eyes darting around the room, like it was a kink he had hidden from the world, had kept from everyone for too long, and finally, he’d found someone he could say it to, exactly as he wanted to say it. Zinnia saw everything she needed to know about him in those four words.

  “Look what I built,” he said. “I am fixing this world, and I am tired of sitting by while other people try to beat back my best efforts. All this nonsense and contradictory rules and regulations, standing in the way of real progress, in the way of salvation…” His voice rose and his face grew red. “My one regret is that I won’t live to see it. But Claire will. Claire is going to oversee the biggest expansion of Cloud yet. We found the model that worked. It’s time for everyone else to adopt it. We’re going to take the last thing in this world that just does not work, and we are going to fix it.”

  He closed his eyes, took a breath. Put a hand on his chest.

  “Sorry, this is an area where I can get a bit passionate,” he said. “But it’s only natural. Do you know we provide more medical services than hospitals at this point? There are more kids enrolling in Cloud schools than there are in regular schools. Hell, the CIA stores their data on our servers. This was the natural next step.”

  “Are you fucking kidding?” Zinnia asked, her voice rising, and Gibson slid back a little in his seat. “Have you been outside lately? People are dying, all around the world. Kids are dying, at this moment, and you have a chance to fix that, and you’re going to hold it hostage until you get something in return?”

  Gibson gave a happy, impish little shrug. “We’ll get what we need and this world will be a better place. Now, I believe you owe me an answer. Who tried to have me killed?”

  Zinnia nodded, happy she could lob a good one back at him. “You did.”

  Gibson’s face went dark.

  “I got updated instructions about a week ago to take you out,” she said. “Of course I didn’t question them, because at that point I didn’t know it was you. I figured it was a rival company. So I guess if you want to know who wants you dead, you just need to ask my handler.” Zinnia paused for effect. “You must not be as loved as you thought.”

  Gibson’s face fell. He looked at his hands in his lap, piles of bones wrapped in papery, vein-streaked skin, and he sighed with his entire body. “That son of a bitch…” After a moment he shook it off, looked up at Zinnia with that glint in his eye, and said, “Thank you for that, and good-bye.”

  “Wait,” Zinnia said. “What happens now?”

  Gibson laughed, stood, and stepped to the door.

  “What happens to me?”

  Gibson paused. Turned to her. Gave her another look, up and down. “When elephant trainers catch a baby elephant in the wild, they tie it to a tree. That baby elephant fights and thrashes to break free, but it’s not strong enough. Within a couple of days, it gives up. So even as the elephant gets bigger, it doesn’t believe it can break the rope. And then you get a full-grown elephant tied to a tree with a piece of rope it could snap with a simple swing of its leg. It’s called learned helplessness. Everything here is built on people who don’t think the rope will break. Which means the most dangerous thing in the world for my business model is someone who recognizes how fragile the rope really is.”

  He gave a little wink and the door snapped shut behind him. A presence remained, and after a few moments Zinnia realized it was that shadow of Death. It had followed him in, but it hadn’t left.

  PAXTON

  “Where is he?!”

  The roar came from so deep within Gibson it seemed like it might shatter his frail body. Paxton leapt up from the empty cubicle where Dobbs had told him to wait and followed the shouting. So did nearly everyone else in the office, and soon Paxton was fighting through a crowd, catching elbows in the ribs, trying to reach the source.

  What they found was Gibson standing over Carson, who had his hands over his head. It was a comical sight, this wide man cowering under the gaze of someone who looked like he could blow away on a stiff wind.

  Though at the same time, Paxton understood. Having sat across from the man, having spoken to him, he understood. And in that moment something clicked in his head. The way Carson had panicked when Paxton said to get off the tram. The way he knocked people down to get off. The way it seemed like he knew what was coming.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” Gibson asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carson said.

  “You’re a liar. What was this supposed to be? Revenge or something?”

  Carson stood up, but slowly, carefully, looking around as if someone might come to his aid, but no one did. “Don’t you realize that what you’re trying to do is insane? You’re not the god you think you are, Gib.”

  Gibson took a step forward, got right up to Carson’s nose. “And Claire? What were you going to do? Kill her, too?”

  “She’s a child. I would have managed her.”

  “Hey!”

  A woman’s voice. Claire appeared out of the crowd and slapped Carson, hard, across the face. He absorbed the blow, taking a few steps back, and turned to Gibson. “Not another word. Not here.”

  “Fine.” Gibson turned to Dobbs. “Get him the hell out of here. Put him with her.”

  Two blues appeared from the crowd and grabbed Carson under the arms. They dragged him away. He fought back, but Dobbs stepped out and threw a hard fist into the man’s gut. He doubled over and groaned, then looked up. “You know I’m right, Dobbs. You know I’m right!”

  Dobbs drew the heavy-duty flashlight from his belt and smashed the butt into Carson’s face. It made a wet thunk, and nearly everyone in the crowd jerked at the sound of the impact. Not Gibson. He smiled. Carson’s head rolled around on his neck like something had been disconnected, blood pouring from his ruined nose.

  The blues dragged him away as Dobbs turned to the audience. “Conference room B. Now.” Everyone looked at each other as if they hadn’t understood the order, and Dobbs yelled out louder, “Now!”

  The crowd broke up and moved toward the hallway that would bring them to the conference room, but Paxton lingered toward the back of the crowd and grabbed Dobbs by the arm.

  “Before we go in there, we have to talk,” Paxton said.

  Dobbs shook his hand off and seemed ready to refuse, but then he led Paxton to the empty interrogation room, the closest place they could get a quiet word in. They stepped inside and Dobbs said, “Make it quick.”

  “She thinks you’re going to kill her.”

  “Who thinks what now?”

  “Zinnia. She thinks you’re going to kill her to keep her quiet.”

  Dobbs narrowed his eyes and looked at Paxton as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Then
he laughed. “This isn’t a movie. We’re not in the killing business.”

  Paxton had known it wasn’t true, that Zinnia was being unreasonable, but still, it helped to hear. He wondered if there was something else he should say, something else he should do.

  “I know this is hard, son,” Dobbs said. “We got some damage control to do, but everything is going to be fine, you hear? You’re squared right now, so why don’t you head back home. Get some rest.”

  Paxton took a deep breath, building up the courage to ask the question he knew he shouldn’t ask. “Can I see her? One last time?”

  Dobbs shook his head. “Not gonna happen, son.”

  Paxton felt planted to the spot. He wanted to fight but was angry at himself for wanting to fight. He was angry at himself for even asking in the first place. He was angry at himself for too much, so he said, “I understand,” and turned and left.

  Out of Admin, to the elevators, across the promenade, to the lobby of Oak, the whole time his head like a big empty room, like it should have been filled with things, but it wasn’t. As he swiped his way onto the elevator he remembered what Zinnia had said and doubled back to Maple, where he took the car up to her floor and stood outside room Q and wondered what, exactly, he owed her.

  This woman who’d lied to him and manipulated him. Who’d taken advantage of his stature.

  Like you’ve never fucked up.

  No, not like that.

  Everyone makes mistakes. Paxton had made plenty.

  But not that big.

  He said it like a mantra.

  He reached out and knocked. Heard nothing on the other side of the door. Considered turning around. But something in Zinnia’s voice had made him worried, so he knocked again. He looked up and down the hallway, and when he verified the hallway was clear, he swiped the pad. It turned green and he entered.

  The apartment was rank with old food. There was a figure curled up under the blankets on the futon and Paxton thought he should leave, like the person was sleeping, but that person also hadn’t stirred when he entered, when the light from the hallway fell across the bed. He watched the lump, willing it to move, hoping it would, but it didn’t. He crossed the room and found a pretty girl with long hair, curled up under her blanket, and he didn’t need to touch her, didn’t need to check her pulse, to know that she was dead.

  He raised his watch to call it in, pressed the crown, and he should have said something but didn’t. He was done. He had nothing left. Not on this day.

  The balloon burst, everything about him, everything inside just spilling to the floor in one slippery mess. So he turned around and left, went back to Oak, went to his room, fell onto his futon, and stared up at the ceiling.

  And he thought about the other thing Zinnia had said.

  The thing about freedom.

  A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT FROM CLAIRE WELLS

  It is with an incredible amount of sadness and regret I announce that this morning, at 9:14 a.m., my father passed away at his home in Arkansas, surrounded by friends, family, and his beloved dogs. I’m pleased to report he died with a smile on his face, in a room full of love. There is, at least, some comfort to take in that.

  My father was considered one of the great minds of his generation, an unparalleled thinker and innovator. His influence touched every corner of this planet.

  But he was also my dad.

  There is a lot to process right now, not least of which is the incredible responsibility of taking over Cloud. I feel like I’ve been preparing for this moment my entire life, and at the same time, I don’t feel that I’m ready. But in a job like this, there is no such thing as “ready.” You dive in and do the best you can.

  I’m excited to announce that the first major appointment of my tenure will be Leah Morgan as my VP. She has a master’s in business from Harvard, is a respected member of her community, and most important, she’s a longtime friend. I am positive my father would have wholeheartedly supported this decision, as he always thought very fondly of Leah.

  I’ve got one more announcement to make. And it’s a big one.

  I wish we could have made it a little sooner, but the project was still in its final stages. It was the last project my father worked on, and it was the one he was most proud of: CloudPower. For years Cloud has invested hundreds of millions of dollars into researching new forms of clean energy, and we’re happy to say we’ve developed a zero-emission process for producing humongous amounts of energy. By the end of the year, all MotherCloud facilities will be up and running under this new system, at which point we’ll be implementing a partnership with the U.S. government—the first of many world governments, we hope—to bring this technology to every corner of the country.

  We vow to offer our customers competitive rates and assistance in building processing facilities, and we believe that within the next few decades, we could have the entire planet up and running through CloudPower—a significant step in healing our ravaged environment.

  This is my father’s legacy, and I could not be more proud.

  At this point I know I should say something inspirational, but my father always had the gift of gab in my family, whereas I was happier to listen. I figured that’s always the best way to learn. So that’s what I’ll be doing. I’ll be listening and learning while sticking to the values that made this company a success.

  Those are the values my father instilled in me.

  PAXTON

  Paxton downed the last of the vodka, the ice clacking against his teeth. His third. Or his fourth; he didn’t care enough to count. He took out his phone and opened his text messages, as if maybe there was already one waiting for him. He found nothing so he waved over the bartender for another round.

  In his peripheral vision he saw Dakota appear, backlit at the mouth of the bar. She was looking around for something. Him, he figured. He could have raised his hand to get her attention, but he didn’t because there weren’t enough people in the bar that it would matter. And a small part of him hoped she wouldn’t see him. But after a moment her gaze fixed on him and she strode over, sat on the seat next to him. It wobbled and she held on to the bar top to steady herself.

  She ordered a gin and tonic and took three slow sips of it before she asked, “How you holding up?”

  Paxton shrugged.

  They filled the silence with alcohol, staring at the mirror behind the row of liquor bottles.

  “Dobbs wanted me to talk to you,” she said. “Make sure things were square.”

  Another shrug. Paxton decided from now on he would communicate in shrugs.

  “He cut that woman loose,” she said, turning away, looking toward the rear of the bar, not even risking catching his eye in the mirror. “I know you had a thing for her, and no joke, she was a tight piece. I’m proud of you. But she’s turfed. Do you really want to follow her?”

  Paxton turned a little toward Dakota. “That a threat?”

  “That’s not from Dobbs,” she said. “That’s from me. That’s me being a friend. This whole thing.” She picked up her glass, took a long swig. She still had more to go but flagged the bartender for another. As he prepared it she leaned close. “This whole thing is big. But they want more than anything to keep it quiet. I’m just saying, as your friend, keep your head down, life stays good, you know?”

  “You call this good?” Paxton asked.

  “You been outside lately? Hell of a lot better than what they got out there.”

  Paxton nodded, wanting to disagree, unable to do so. He downed his vodka and ordered another. As if by drinking too many he might be able to conjure her. It was a stupid thing to think but it was better than the things he didn’t want to think about.

  “I have something for you,” Dakota said.

  She put her hand on the bar, slid it close to Paxton. Looked aro
und to make sure they were alone, and raised it to reveal a plastic oblivion container. She clamped her hand back over it and waited, like he might take it, but when he didn’t she slid it into his pants pocket.

  Paxton let her do it, but he asked, “Are you fucking kidding me? After all that.”

  “This is brand-new,” she said. “Oblivion two-point-oh.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Engineered to shit so you can’t OD.” Paxton turned toward Dakota, and she was smiling. “Doesn’t matter how much you take. Body hits a saturation point and pisses out the rest. No such thing as too much.”

  “Seriously, is this a trick?” Paxton asked, wanting to take the container out of his pocket and hand it back, but afraid of who might see. “Are you trying to get me fired? Plant drugs on me?”

  “That’s the beauty of it,” Dakota said. “It’s ours. We run it.”

  Paxton put his head in his hands, the pieces falling together.

  The task force that wasn’t a task force. Keeping an eye on Warren but not rattling him too hard. Looking for the supply but leaving the dealers alone. “We weren’t shutting them down. We were just replacing the product.”

  “Don’t act all high and fucking mighty on me now, Paxton. People would be using whether it’s our stuff or theirs. We’re keeping the network in place and fulfilling the demand while keeping Cloud safe. Lives are saved, and we make a little scratch in the process. Everyone wins.”

  “Is Dobbs in on this?”

  She curled her lip. “What do you think?”

  Paxton picked up his vodka, downed it, the alcohol stinging on the way down, but it didn’t hurt as much as he wanted it to.

  “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

  Dakota accepted her new drink, finished the first one and placed it down for the bartender to take away. When he was out of earshot, she leaned in and lowered her voice. “Because now we know we can trust you. You made the right choice. You chose us. I told you there were perks. Now, don’t make me second-guess myself, okay, Paxy?”