Ghost in the Machine (Steam and Cyber Series Book 1)

by SJ Davis

  “Francesca, wake up!” he yelled at her, briskly shaking her shoulders. Francesca’s hair was braided around the nape of her neck, as she lay in her bed. “Francesca!” She sat up confused. Bodhi tossed her the paper.

  “What are you doing in here?” She adjusted her hair and reached for her dressing gown.

  “Read it,” was all Bodhi could muster.

  Francesca stood; her hand balanced her on the back of a chair. In harsh large black print, the headline read: Prime Minister Shot Dead. Criminal on Loose. Murder Connected to #10 Downing Street Fire.

  Francesca read the headline and sat back on her bed. “This is a nightmare for all of England. He is England’s voice of reason.”

  “I don’t know how to tell Caroline. I just don’t know how I could ever begin. It was horrible when Josephine lost her father, and now this.”

  Francesca continued to read past the headline, “In a shock to the state it has been declared that Lord Nelson Ratcliffe, the honorable Prime Minister of England was kidnapped yesterday afternoon, as reported by the servants of the house,” She looked up at Bodhi, wide-eyed. “Two security guards were found unconscious outside his family’s private residence. Lord Ratcliffe’s body was later found near the docks along the Thames.” She put the paper on her dressing table and sat in stunned silence.

  “The manner of death has not yet been released,” Bodhi continued. “His daughter is also deemed missing. The State’s police and Queen Victoria’s Royal Security are on high alert, looking for a connection between the Prime Minister’s murder and the criminal arson at #10 Downing.”

  “Emily was right! The threats have come to fruition!”

  Francesca grabbed the paper as she looked over Bodhi’s shoulder. He turned around as the paper scattered at his feet. Caroline stood in the doorway, her face was disbelieving.

  “What are you doing here, Caroline?” is all Bodhi mustered to speak as he walked towards her, his throat unable to swallow.

  “I heard you rush in here like a madman. I came to see what was the matter.” She drifted to the balcony; the world outside was drenched in the bright beginnings of autumn. Even the leaves in the gutters glowed.

  “Did you hear us?” asked Bodhi.

  “I’m going home,” she nodded. “I need to see him.” She rushed out the door, running upstairs to dress. Bodhi ran after her.

  “Caroline, it’s clearly not safe. We don’t know what is going on. Stop and think. Josephine is missing; Nico was left for dead, and now your father. I’m so sorry.”

  “My father is supposed to be in Scotland,” Caroline protested. “It can’t be him. I have to go and see.”

  “Caroline. It’s unsafe.” Bodhi mopped the back of his neck with his kerchief.

  “I don’t care. I need to see if it’s him.”

  “I’m coming with you then.”

  “No, I’ll go alone. No sense in risking your safety also.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “I’m so,” she stopped, searching for her words. “I’m so angry! I don’t want anyone near me. I never should have agreed to stay here. This never should have happened!”

  THE PRIME MINISTER’S personal residence was as crowded as a hectic and unorganized fish market. Chaos filled the air like a swarm of disorganized wasps. The morning’s promising clouds became flat and watery as Bodhi and Caroline squeezed themselves through onlookers, reporters, political gawkers, doctors, politicians and the police.

  Caroline crossed straight ahead to the drawing room where her father’s dead body had been brought. She glanced in the doorway; his body lay swollen under a sheet. She could make out the protrusion of his pipe in his jacket pocket from under the sheet. Two policemen stood by the body, gently uncovering areas as they sketched the injuries for evidence.

  “Not much blood,” noted the tall young policeman.

  “Probably cardiac arrest. When your heart isn’t pumping, you don’t bleed. You merely leak a bit,” said the older chubbier man as her drew her father’s face and injuries into his notepad for evidence. The medical examiner pulled back the Minister’s shirt, searching for further injury. Caroline looked away in embarrassment and anger.

  “He returned early from a trip to Scotland,” said the younger man. “Goes to show when your time is up, your time is up.”

  “Let’s leave, Caroline. Let’s go to the back,” Bodhi softly nudged Caroline away from the investigation and retreated to the rear of the house, to the servant’s area. Gathered in the kitchen, the maids, the cooks, the butler, were all sobbing. Their wailing increased as soon as they saw Caroline enter the doorway.

  “Please tell me what happened. Everything you know. Leave nothing out,” Caroline said from the doorway as she entered.

  “Caroline!” the effusive cook was the first to squeal, followed by her two water-retaining hands clutching her chest. “We thought you were gone, too. Oh, God is so good!”

  The loyal servants looked back and forth at one another, each waiting for another to begin. Then they looked down at the floor.

  “Tell me how what happened. Everything.” Caroline insisted, feeling a knot her throat.

  The kitchen remained quiet except for the blowing of noses and scuffling of feet. “Please. Dorothy, you tell me,” Caroline asked of the cook.

  “About ten of them, mechanical-type soldiers, covered in black steel, landed near the garden house. They dropped down from an airship. Blimey, you think us crazy, don’t you?” Dorothy wrung her hands around the dirty dishtowel that hung from her apron. Flour and grease dotted the front of her smudged frock.

  “Not at all. Please go on.”

  “They landed, you see, these machines, black as night. And then they shot down the guards! Lord Ratcliffe had no way to defend himself against these murderous machines.”

  The cook sat at the large oak kitchen table. Copper bowls and spoons hung from the walls behind the servants. One serving boy started to cut apples into small squares and the cook started to cry again.

  “There was a short man from the Orient with them. Dressed strange. Tight clothes, red colored and leathery lookin’ trousers and coat,” piped in one of the parlor maids.

  “The mechanical invaders burst into the house, Lady Caroline. Artillery was fastened to their metal frames,” said Harold, as he straightened his lapels and dusted kitchen crumbs from his dark butler’s jacket. “These beastly machines dragged your father from his study into your room. They began searching the upstairs in a most unsavory manner. Rummaging about violently, dumping drawers, whizzing and squeaking in all directions. Most distasteful, Lady Caroline. It was so very offensive to Lord Ratcliffe’s personal dignity. He, in every way the gentlemen, trying to contain these walking machines while they burrowed and rummaged through your personal items.”

  “They had big steel claws,” said Dorothy. “Terrifying hooks! And such quick destruction, the likes of which I’ve never seen before in me whole life.”

  “Oh indeed, Lady Caroline,” added the downstairs maid. “I’ve never seen such a mess, never at all. Dreadful indeed.”

  “You don’t want to go upstairs, Lady Caroline,” said Harold as she started up the steps. “Everything is broken to bits.”

  “It’s all my fault,” said Caroline. She looked to Bodhi, “I may as well have murdered him with my own hand. I can’t believe it!” Harold offered her a freshly starched handkerchief. She shook her head.

  “Your father would tell them nothing,” said Harold. “Nothing at all. He was brave to the end. He withstood all of their commands to hand over your Tablet, or some such nonsense.”

  Caroline looked at Bodhi. “See?”

  “There is nothing you could have done,” said Bodhi putting his arm around her shoulder awkwardly.

  “Could no one have stopped this?”

  “We were outnumbered by the machines, and terrified. I’m so ashamed,” cried Dorothy. A young boy started to peel apples nervously. “We should have laid down our lives, too.”
/>   “No, no. I’ll hear none of that. I am sorry; I spoke without thinking. I know you would have helped him if you could.”

  “We crawled and hid in closets as they dragged away your brave father. Ever the gentleman, he was. He demanded not to be touched. He walked straight and without fear, didn’t he everyone?” piped in the cook.

  Caroline looked at Bodhi, motioning they should leave. “Did you tell the police all of this? About the automatons and what they were looking for?”

  “No, nothing. I haven’t allowed the servants to be questioned yet. I didn’t want to add such startling and confusing information to the investigation,” said Harold.

  “Good,” replied Bodhi. “Keep all of this to yourselves. At least for now.”

  “Bodhi, I’m going upstairs.” Caroline started a mad dash. “I need to see the damage.”

  “No. You’ll be questioned by the police, possibly detained for your own safety.” Bodhi chased after her.

  Sneaking up the back stairs through the kitchen, everything upstairs was broken and in disarray. On a round table on the upper landing lay torn papers, smashed porcelain knick-knacks, ripped bits of sewing cloth, and broken candlesticks. The bookcases from Caroline’s room had been upended and the contents strewn throughout the landing and into the stairway.

  Bodhi glanced down the length of the hall. At the top of the front stairs, a police officer stood with a leather bound notebook and pen, sketching out part of the crime scene.

  “Caroline,” Bodhi whispered, “you aren’t going to try to enter your room, are you? The area is a crime scene still under investigation.”

  “No. I just wanted to see it. Then we’ll go back to Francesca’s and make sure the Tabulator and hard drive are secure.”

  “It’s time we get some answers from Nico, too.”

  Tattoo Shop

  December 30th 2134

  Yeshua, Josephine, and Minnow walked into Stuart’s tattoo shop from a hotel lobby across the street. The unlocked front door squeaked and a shout of “Not open,” rang out from the back.

  “Stuart,” called Yeshua, “it’s us.” The screen door bounced behind them.

  “We haven’t figured out if Stuart is dangerous or crazy. But he has a de-scanner to the grid. So he’s like God,” Minnow told Josephine.

  “He’s quite the dresser,” said Josephine as he passed through the black linen curtains separating the back of the store from the front.

  Stuart Gilkison turned out to be a young man in a cut-off and frayed pinstriped suit. He wore grey hi-top converse shoes and yellow striped tube socks that sagged above his laces. Silver framed, mirrored sunglasses perched on top of his head parallel to a z-shaped scar on his head. A large tattoo snaked from under his sleeve and curled up the back of his neck, ending in dark inked eyes that stared from the back of his neck. A small star decorated his calf with a black feather on each five points.

  “Hey,” said Stuart looking at each of them with a grim nod, his jaw sat firmly clenched. “Quiet and scan off, first.”

  Josephine looked at Yeshua and Minnow while Stuart approached them with the scanner, a hand-held beige cylinder with a red flashing light at one end.

  Each of them looked out of the window while Stuart scanned them off, one by one, with a short series of beeps.

  “Can you be scanned off permanently?” Josephine stared at the strange device.

  “Nah, a two hour disappearance looks like a simple glitch. However, if you have a regular pattern of going missing, then they come lookin’ for ya real quick. To see what’s up.”

  “Not much you can do in two hours,” she said.

  “True. And a two-hour jack is the max. Omni can unplug you from the feed permanently, but that has its own set of problems. Then you disappear.”

  “Okay, I need to scan off the new girl. No exceptions,” Stuart insisted.

  “She’s really a very old girl,” Minnow said.

  “You don’t need to, Stu. She’s not on the grid,” said Yeshua, nudging Minnow’s toe with his foot.

  “Sorry, man, I can’t take your word for that. Too much can go down and too much is at stake. With Jess’s work and the people who float through here, it’s a highly monitored area.” Stuart’s hands shook and he ran his fingers over his scalp. His left hand lingered a moment in the dent of his scar.

  “Fine. See for yourself. She’s empty,” shrugged Yeshua.

  “Empty? As in my head is empty?” smiled Josephine. “Can you pick a better word, please?”

  “How about clear. She’s clear.”

  “Like I said, no exceptions. Come on over, I won’t hurt you,” said Stuart.

  Stuart’s shop was on the top floor and the ceiling was mostly skylight. Two red Chinese lanterns hung from the center of the room like kites. The place was messy, a strange mixture of old and new: plastic chairs, two workstations, and a burgundy leather couch. Josephine stood sideways to Stuart as he pressed the scan button. The scanner beeped. She looked at Yeshua. He cleared his throat and shook his head in denial.

  “See,” said Stuart, taking it all in stride. “She was on the grid. No offense, see, but I can never take anyone’s word for anything.” The rain outside stopped but the streets still sounded wet.

  Minnow and Yeshua looked at each other as Stuart’s wife stepped out from behind a wall of books. MadCityJess was wrapped in a towel and wearing flip-flops. Rolling her shoulders to release the tension in her neck, she turned away from the net-runners and tossed on one of Stu’s old shirts. She flipped back around to face them as she finished the bottom buttons.

  “When and how did she get bar-coded?” asked Yeshua, astonished and rolling his fingers along the frayed edge of his t-shirt. He tucked in the back of his shirt and cracked his knuckles. Josephine remained mute. Her ears started to ring.

  “Shit. Her nose is bleeding,” said Minnow, pointing to Josephine. “A lot.”

  “Oh no. What do I do?” Josephine said, her hands rose to her nose as streams of red fell into her palms. As she looked down at her hands and more drops of blood fell to the floor. Her eyes searched the room for a tissue.

  “Lean back,” said Minnow. “Sit still. Hold your nose to staunch the bleeding. I don’t know. Help her with it, would you Yeshua?” She shrugged and walked away while Josephine leaned back in a mold-speckled plastic chair. Jess pulled the small towel from her hair and tossed it to Josephine.

  “Why wouldn’t she be bar-coded is the question,” said MadCityJess, unfazed by Josephine and her bleeding nose. Jess’s short, choppy ginger hair and cat styled glasses accentuated her cheekbones. She shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair, spiking the damp ends along the sides. “When I worked for Omni in accounting and legal, everyone was either chipped at birth. Everyone. No exceptions. Is she a reject or what’s the story?”

  “In Omni’s new world order that would be true.” Yeshua smoothed his scruff and rested his chin on Josephine’s shoulder. “The exception is that she wasn’t born here so there’s no record of her,” said Yeshua. “I don’t know how she got chipped.” Jess cocked her head and leaned against the wall of books.

  “Why would you wonder how she was chipped? I don’t get it. Was she hidden in a dereg zone?” asked Jess.

  “No,” said Josephine. “Nothing like that.” She looked behind her for a place to gently sit.

  Stuart dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his toe. MadCityJess shot him an annoyed look. He fell to a squat, hustled to pick it up, and flicked it into the shadows of the trashcan’s direction. He missed.

  “Don’t you think that gets on my nerves? Picking up your old butts?” MadCityJess said as she looked in a closet for some pants.

  “Well, I look at it like it’s the tree and how maybe no one’s looking at it. You know, how if a tree falls in the woods and no one’s there to see it, did it really happen?” said Stuart.

  “Very philosophical Stu, but I am always looking,” said Jess, picking up the butt and then shimmying into a p
air of Stuart’s boxers. She shivered. “It’s cold in here,” and walked over to the coat closet. She emerged, still in her flip-flops, but wearing a vintage fox fur with its head intact. A pair of drumsticks stuck out of her pocket.

  Stuart’s satellite phone vibrated in his back pocket. “Hello… no…all right.” Stu disconnected and scratched his neck.

  Stuart turned to Yeshua, “A man named Tran called for you. I told him you weren’t here but he said wouldn’t believe any of the shit I say.”

  The air was stagnant. Cigarette ashes floated in the sunlight. Outside, a delicately woven nest had broken open and wasps crashed into the window.

  “Why would anyone call you, looking for me,” said Yeshua, pulling out his own satellite phone. “Ah, no charge. But still, how would anyone know I’m here?”

  “They probably picked it up from the new girl’s feed. We only now scanned her off,” said Stuart.

  “I told you,” Minnow said angrily. “Everything is screwed since we brought her here. She must have been chipped in the clinic. I bet that place is a front for Omni.” Yeshua rubbed his forehead and looked around the room.

  “Chill out, Minnow,” said Stuart. “I’ve never known any of you to be in any situation that you can’t get out of.” Crushed cigarette butts and dirty coffee mugs littered the table in front of him. Stuart held a box of matches in his hand, opening and closing the box over and over.

  “Stop it,” said MadCityJess in his direction. “You’re always fidgeting.” Stuart tossed the matches and held up his hands in innocence. “Josephine,” she said, “how are you sleeping?” Jess walked over to her with a fresh towel. She used the old one to clean up the floor, leaving a bloody smear in the wood.

  “It feels like I never sleep and if I do it’s in tiny snippets.” A child’s laughter rose up from the street as Stuart busied himself with an ivory handled switchblade that hung from a shoestring around his neck. He began trimming his thumbnail. Minnow stared at the blade.