The Emoticon Generation

Home > Other > The Emoticon Generation > Page 6
The Emoticon Generation Page 6

by Guy Hasson


  She recalled ISpy and watched in cold blood. Cab to the airport, a forty-minute ride. The Cams then lost him. One OnCam spotted him in the airport, hugging a thin, shortyish, thirty-year-old-looking woman. This must be the pregnant woman known as ‘honey’. Next, he was spotted ten minutes away from his home, in a cab with Honey. Innocuous conversation about her trip to Hawaii. How sweet.

  She fast-forwarded as the two seemed to talk and talk, as they unloaded the cab, as they entered the house and unpacked. Glynis wound it down to normal speed, as Honey was caressing his hair.

  “Glynis,” Steve was saying, “thinks that Oli— [...] mother.” Glynis froze the frame, her eyes wide in surprise. They were talking about her!

  She rewinded one minute into the past, and played it at normal speed.

  “Will you stop fussing,” Honey was saying. “I’m fine.”

  “[...] Sure?” Too early. Then she had caught the conversation a few seconds before it started.

  Sure enough, twenty seconds later, Honey was saying, “[...] understand [...] bothering you.”

  “[...] complicated. [... whatever he was saying, she had a concerned look on her face. ...]—phone call I got today. [...] herself Glynis [...] —teen-year old. But actually— Forget it, that’s too complicated. [...] —r one thing, she thinks Olivia – that’s my ex —” (In the corner of the screen, the image of the PubliCam monitoring the Institute’s entrance began to flash – its task was done. It would wait for later.)

  “The [...] -ologist,” Honey said.

  Steve’s back was to the window, but he nodded.”[... he moved his hand to the side. ...] Glynis thinks that Oli— [...] mother.” Glynis frowned. It was much easier when he stood still and talked to the phone.

  “And [...] isn’t her mother?” Honey put her hand on Steve’s shoulder.

  Steve sunk into his chair. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Not even close. She’s— [his hand covered his mouth for a few seconds] —st of her kind. She’s kind’a like the chicken who lays the first egg.”

  “[...] mean?”

  Glynis froze the frame and stared at the screen numb. Maybe because the shock was too big, but also maybe because inside she was so certain that Olivia was her mother. The similarities between them were so many – she couldn’t possibly be adopted. And yet... Steve should know what he was talking about. And what did that mean, ‘the chicken who lays the first egg’? What did that mean?

  Olivia not her mother?! It couldn’t be.

  She unfroze the frame.

  “[...] Can’t tell you,” Steve rose. “Research [...] Classif— [...] I’ll work it ou— [...]”

  “[...] —leep on it, okay?” She kissed him, and he kissed back.

  “Yeah. [...] —t you.”

  The two of them entered the bedroom, where Glynis couldn’t see them. That was all ISpy had. She looked at the watch by the corner. That last exchange was ten minutes ago. She switched to the PubliCam. Their apartment was dark except for a small light in the bedroom. They were reading. Or talking. About her. Or about Hawaii. Or about their baby.

  Working completely by rote, aware yet unaware of what she was doing, she left ISpy working, and pressed the flashing icon at the bottom of the screen. The screen was immediately filled with an image from the PubliCam outside the address her mother’s supposedly living at. The frame was from this morning. Olivia was leaving the apartment, wearing her work-clothes, suit and all, and a briefcase in hand. She then entered her car and drove away.

  “That bitch,” Glynis whispered, her mind still in neutral. “She does live somewhere else!”

  The icon belonging to the PubliCam outside the Institute flashed again. Glynis couldn’t care less. She sent it away. She stared at the apartment for a while, her teeth clenched, wondering how nasty her response should be. A minute later, she had Olivia’s phone number.

  Before calling Olivia’s number a few actions had to be taken. The phones always provided the number of the caller at the bottom of the screen. If a call is unanswered or if the callers do not leave a message, the caller’s phone number is still recorded. If Olivia sees Glynis’ number when she returns ‘home’, she’d be sure to recognize it. Glynis didn’t want that. Not yet. She would route the phone call through five different stations – the number that would appear would not be traced back to her.

  Not only do I know math and literature and history, mother, she thought; I also got an ‘A’ in hacking. She entered the secured site in which she kept her hacking programs, most of which she had programmed herself. Her mother had kept secrets from her, and she had kept secrets from her mother.

  She executed ReCall, and dialed her mother’s number.

  Olivia’s face appeared. “Hello,” it said. “This is the residence of Dr. Olivia Hatch—” Glynis’ stomach turned “—I’m not home right now. Please leave a message.” As soon as her image was gone, ReCall immediately took over Olivia’s answering service. Glynis could now treat it as if it were her own. She scanned the messages. There were three pending (which Olivia hadn’t heard yet), two saved, and one in the trash bin, which had not yet been deleted (the trash bin deletes a message 24 hours after it is sent to the bin).

  She watched the one in the trash bin first.

  Professor Von Variety appeared on the screen. “Hello, Doctor Hatch,” he said in his thick accent. “This is to update you. I’ve just confirmed my flight. I’ll be taking flight number—” Glynis fast-forwarded. “—nd. I’m very excited to see your research. Even if only half of what you’ve hinted at is true. I’ll see you in less than fourteen hours.”

  Boring. Glynis chose one of the pending ones. Ron’s face appeared, “Olivia! Olivia! If you’re there, please answer. There’s been an emergency with Glynis! Call me asap!”

  Glynis blinked. Then she looked at the time-stamp. It was from six hours ago. She hadn’t seen Ron in two days. What the hell was he talking about? She looked around, half paranoid. But there was no emergency in the past six hours or twenty-four hours, for that matter. But that only drove home a point she hadn’t considered. Ron and Elizabeth were both in on whatever this is. They, too, have been lying to her all her life. No more allies. She was alone.

  The other two pending messages were sales messages. Junk. Glynis turned to the saved messages.

  An unknown man appeared on the screen. He was fiftyish, rumpled, tired, and a couple of children were playing behind him. “Hi, sis,” he said. So this is Glynis’ Uncle Thomas! “I just wanted to inform you that Pat arrived safely, everything’s fine, and we’re going to have fun while you’re busy with that bigshot.” He looked aside. “What? Oh, okay.” He turned to the screen again. “Pat wants to say something.” He moved aside, and the camera panned down to see the face of a cute six-year-old.

  “Hi, mom,” she waved, as Glynis’ eyes nearly popped out of her head. “I miss you. Call me when you get home.”

  “Bye, Olive Oil,” Thomas said, and touched the disconnect button.

  Glynis couldn’t breathe. Spots appeared in front of her eyes.

  After a couple of minutes, she calmed down enough to realize that she couldn’t remember anything else about the message besides the words “Hi, mom”. She replayed the message.

  Pat. Her sister’s name was Pat.

  She rewinded the message and froze a picture of Pat. She was cute, and she looked almost like Glynis did when she was that age. The nose and the chin were slightly different, though. There was no doubt about it. Pat was her sister.

  Olivia was living a double life. But it was Glynis and Glynis alone who seemed to be the secret life. Pat had met the rest of the family. And Glynis... she never even knew they existed.

  Suddenly Pat’s image disappeared and was replaced by a view of Olivia’s apartment. Glynis jumped: Huh? Just as she was about to press a button and reactivate the answering machine, she realized that there was movement at the top of the screen. Feet, high heels, accompanied by sound. The feet were coming closer. The camera was not panning a
s it usually does when there’s movement. The feet turned into legs in a skirt, and suddenly the face of her mother filled the screen and was staring right at her. Glynis nearly wet her pants.

  Glynis was frozen in place, unable to move, as her mother’s brows furrowed a bit, and her eyes moved up and down. Very slowly, one thought followed another in the back of Glynis’ mind. It was a safety aspect of ReCall: When there was a change in the surroundings, it snapped back to appear as if the phone was not operating, while allowing the caller/hacker to view the inside. ReCall was playing dead. Actually, it was playing like it was an answering machine. Olivia couldn’t see Glynis; her screen looked like her answering machine. She wouldn’t find out... if she didn’t try to place a call.

  Olivia pressed a spot on the screen and moved aside. ReCall played the three new messages for Olivia, while Glynis watched her go from one corner of the house to another, get herself a drink from the fridge, and search for something in a desk.

  The messages played themselves out. Glynis sat in front of the screen, not daring to disconnect. Olivia put the files from the desk in her suitcase, shut it, turned off the light, and went out of view. Glynis could hear her open the door, close it, and lock it from the outside. It was then that she realized how badly she’d wanted Olivia to discover her. To punish her, maybe, but to confront her about why and how and—and—and—so many things, too many things...

  Glynis began to cry. The tears obstructing her view, she disconnected from the Net, turned the screen off, and fell on her bed. She sobbed uncontrollably.

  Half an hour later, she was asleep in her clothes, having cried herself to sleep. She dreamed about her sister.

  “Glynis... Glynis...”

  Glynis opened her eyes, and her mother’s face looked at her, smiling. Glynis immediately flashed back to the previous night, and jumped instinctively, gasping.

  “Whoa! What’s the matter?”

  “I... I... I’m sorry. I had nightmares.” She looked around. “What... What time is it?”

  “It’s morning. And you slept in your clothes. You haven’t done that in years.” There was concern in Olivia’s voice. That surprised Glynis. “Oh, god, I’m sorry, I’m not paying enough attention to you. Listen,” she touched Glynis’ flushed cheeks. “This is just because the Professor is here. He’s very important for my career. He was supposed to leave today, but it turns out he likes what he saw, and he’s going to stay another day. I know I said we’ll spend tomorrow together, but this is really important. He’s leaving at six p.m. You and me, we’ll spend the evening together, that’s bound to be enough, what do you say? I’ll give you your gift, and we’ll pig out or something. Okay?”

  “Sure.” Glynis tried to smile.

  “Now,” Olivia clapped her hands once. “Snap out of it! Get dressed and we’ll eat. I have to go soon.”

  “So,” Olivia asked once Glynis emerged from the bathroom. “How does it feel to be grown up? How does it feel to almost be thirteen?”

  Breakfast was already on the table. Glynis sat down and looked at Olivia from the corner of her eyes. “I feel older and less innocent that I was yesterday.”

  “When I was thirteen,” Olivia said, “I already felt like I was an adult for three years at least.

  They ate breakfast silently. Suddenly, Glynis asked, “Mom, why don’t I have a sister or a brother?”

  Olivia didn’t even flinch, “I had one daughter. She was really sick. It’s hard enough as it is to deal with a job and taking care of you. It was enough.”

  Glynis clenched her teeth. She is a bitch! She’s blaming me!

  Glynis wallowed in silence. Olivia kept talking about Professor Von Wowzer. With breakfast over, she rushed off.

  Glynis found herself disappointed that Olivia didn’t ask what was really bothering her. She hadn’t realized how badly she wanted to tell Olivia what she knew, to hear an explanation that would make all her questions, all the betrayals, go away. And she didn’t have the courage to ask, she needed her mother to ask. But she didn’t.

  Glynis was tired of guessing, tired of spying. She’s had enough of being jerked around, tired of being lied to. And, more than anything else, she’s had enough surprises for a lifetime.

  It was time to put an end to it. And she knew how. All she had to do was press the right buttons.

  She pursed her lips in determination, sat at the computer, and turned the screen on. She took a look at Steve’s apartment through the PubliCam. There was nothing. But today was Saturday. What are the odds that at ten o’clock he’d be home? She waited a minute, then a man’s figure walked quickly from one side of the window to the other. She stopped the PubliCam, rewinded it, paused the picture, then zoomed in. The angle was all wrong, but that was his hair and build. It was Steve, all right.

  She dialed Steve’s number through another phone number. That way the block he’d set up to exclude her (her number, actually,) would not work.

  The phone dialed once, twice, then his face appeared on the screen.

  “Hi,” she gave him a big, cynical smile. “Remember me?”

  His face wore shock. Just as he was getting his bearings, she said, “I’m the chicken who lays the first egg,” and his face collapsed again. “I loved the fact,” she went on, “that you blocked my phone calls. I loved it even more that you thought it would work.”

  “Glynis, I—”

  “No, no, no,” she interrupted him again. “You’ve had your chance. Now I’m going to have mine. I want to share something with you,” she said in an extra-nice tone. “I broke into my moth – Olivia’s – other house, I assume you know she has two of them. And look what I found.” She played Thomas and Pat’s message.

  “Shit,” Steve whispered once the tape was over. He understood its importance and perhaps a bit more.

  “Do I have your attention, Mr. Caspi?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. Because here’s what I know. My father has Olivia’s father’s name, and no one will tell me anything about him. You say that Olivia is not my mother,” – his face showed confusion –”No, you didn’t say it to me, but you said it nonetheless. But Olivia, who has an entire family she never told me about, including you for that matter, and also including a daughter who looks a lot like me and our mother – so how can we not have the same mother? And for some reason you seem to think it has something to do with my pixeled tv.”

  “Glynis,” he said. “I understand what you’re going through. But I can’t help you.”

  “Are you scared of my mother, Mr. Caspi? Because up till now I told you what I know. Here’s what you should know. I’m smart. I’m resourceful. I’m sneaky. And I’m after you.” She leaned closer to the camera. “I’ll find some way to blackmail you. I’ll find some secrets about the woman carrying your baby. I’ll find a way to break up your relationship if I have to. I can do much more damage than mom can. You don’t want me as your enemy. Wouldn’t it be nicer to be my friend, like we proposed originally?”

  Glynis took a breath, eased back into her chair, and said in a tired voice, “Look. That was the threat. Here’s the real deal: Steve, you know and I know that she’s been lying to me my whole life. I don’t understand it, and I don’t like it, and it’s wrong. I know you think the same as I do, and from our first conversation, it sounded to me like you left her partly because of it. She’s been lying to me ever since I was born. She’s kept me a secret from almost everyone she knows ... and I don’t know why or what else she did, but I need to know. Can you understand that? I mean, you said you used to have a soft spot for me. And you’re going to have a baby and I can tell you’re a compassionate man. How would you be able to raise it knowing that you’re part of whatever it is she did to me when she raised me, that you had a chance to change it, and didn’t?”

  Steve looked down. “You’re not going to believe me if I tell you, Glynis.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Tell me anyway.”

  “There are some things a person shouldn�
��t know about herself, Glynis.” He raised his eyes and looked at her, “If I tell you, you’ll never be the same again. Never, Glynis. Do you understand that?”

  She paused for a few seconds, so it will look like she considered it. “I understand. Tell me.”

  Steve took a few deep and slow breaths, as if he was gathering strength for an impossibly hard task. Not looking directly at her, he said, “First thing, Glynis, no, Olivia is most definitely not your real mother. You’re her—... um... You’re a science experiment, Glynis.”

  “A science experiment? But she’s a psychologist!” Then her eyes narrowed. “She is a psychologist, isn’t she?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then—Then—Then—”

  “Glynis, Glynis, please listen.” There was compassion in his voice. “I told you this would be hard to believe. And this is the easy part. What I’m going to say next is also the easy part, although it won’t sound like it. Glynis...” he sighed and looked aside. “...You’re not human.”

  Glynis stared at the screen. “I...That’s ridiculous,” she finally said.

  “It’s true,” he said in a calm voice.

  “But... I walk, I dream, I breathe, I smell, I feel—” She stopped, realizing that animals do all those things, too. “I think! I talk! I—” It was ridiculous, and yet she couldn’t prove that she was human, because maybe a new form of intelligent life would be able to do that, too. “I’m just like everyone else!” she shouted. “I—I—I—I’m human!”

  “I know you do all those things and more. And you would have been human, and you could have been human, and you most definitely have human DNA and just human DNA. But the fact is ... that...” He couldn’t go on.

  “That what?”

  And he looked straight into her eyes and said, “Glynis, you’re not real.”

  ~

  You have to let me tell you (Steve said) without interrupting me, okay?

  It all started – for Olivia, at least – during her first year in college. It bothered her that the science of psychology could never make any real progress because the researchers couldn’t make any real experiments. Not like physicists or biologists or chemists could. Because the experiments are on people you could never actually repeat most of the experiments you would like to have. You never worked in real lab conditions. It was always possible that things happened not because of what you did or didn’t do – but because of something else. It was all suppositions, guesswork.

 

‹ Prev