Kill Switch

by William Hertling

  “Thanks.” Angie got some purchase on a corner of the paper, and tugged one end free, then the middle. The paper folded back to reveal silky fabric. She shook loose a black and silver shawl.

  “Oh, gosh, it’s beautiful. Help me put it on.”

  Emily arranged the lightweight scarf around Angie’s shoulders and tucked it over her right one. Angie looked into the mirror and smiled. Not only was the shawl pretty, but what was left of her right arm was far less noticeable.

  “I got ya covered, sister.” She leaned in and gave Angie a kiss on the cheek. “You’ve done great. You’re a world-class CEO. A few years ago you were afraid to make a slide deck.”

  “I was in the right place at the right time,” Angie said. She didn’t want to fuss over things now.

  “You downplay things, but you’re a great leader. You built a company around a mission, not just making money. That’s no easy task.”

  “The job’s not over.”

  “No, but tonight’s for celebrating all that you’ve accomplished. Now let’s go.”

  Thomas must have heard their heels clicking on the bamboo floor, because he stood as they approached. Emily’s husband, Nick, followed his cue.

  “Wow.” Thomas looked Angie up and down. “Fantastic.”

  “Here,” Emily said, and held out a key ring. “You guys take my car.”

  “We can’t,” Angie said.

  “We can,” Thomas said, and reached for the keys. He had long and vocally lusted after Emily’s BMW, a limited edition he was too late to sign up for.

  “We are not taking the chance of anything happening to Emily’s car.”

  “Oh, come on,” Emily said. “I got the thing as a bonus. I didn’t pay a dime for it. Take the car. We’ll drive Thomas’s car.”

  Thomas gave Angie a puppy dog face.

  “Look, it’s not that,” Angie said. “I want to go in my own car. My car is good luck to me.”

  “That bucket of 3D printed plastic?” Emily laughed. “You spend more time bringing it in for maintenance than anything else.”

  She’d bought the Gnu FlexCar after Tapestry’s third and final funding round. It was locally made, 3D printed parts and a computerized electric drive train. Open source and copyleft from head to toe. A geek’s car, to be sure, with more than a few design warts. She loved it, but Thomas and Emily detested everything about it, from the anemic handling to the noisy cooling fans to the body curves. She’d never confessed to them that she had tweaked those Bézier curves herself prior to printing the parts. They didn’t feel the pride that Angie felt that every line of code was open source.

  “That car represents everything about this journey to me, and I’m driving it to the party.”

  Thomas was visibly crestfallen, but he walked away from Emily and rejoined Angie.

  “No, you can’t get all mopey with me. Go with Emily. She’ll let you drive. I want to go by myself. I could use a few minutes of solitude before the party.”

  “Are you sure? I feel like I’m abandoning you.”

  “We can’t all be extroverts,” Angie said. Part of her mind was scared that she could play this part so well. Why didn’t anyone notice something was wrong? They should scream and stop her. But she couldn’t let that happen. “Trust me, I’m perfectly happy being by myself for a bit. Just give me a kiss first.”

  Thomas came over, put one arm around her, and kissed her lips.

  Angie pulled him back when he pulled away. “Not like that. Like you mean it.”

  He wrapped her in both arms, and for a moment, all she could feel was him surrounding her, protecting her. She wanted to stay in those arms forever. She kissed him, hard and full of need. She wanted to make love to him.

  “Whoa, Nelly,” Thomas said. “There’ll be time enough for that after the party.”

  But there isn’t ever time enough for all the things.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, holding her shoulders.

  He noticed. He noticed. Thank you, universe.

  She rested her head on his chest. “I’m okay. Go with Emily.” She lifted her head and stared into his eyes as she put a finger on his lips. She didn’t want him to say goodbye. “I love you.”

  “There’s six hundred and fifty horsepower, half of that from the hybrid portion of the drivetrain, powering all four wheels.” Thomas called across the driveway. “Are you sure…”

  “I’m sure,” Angie called back, through the open window. “Go. I love you.”

  Thomas rocketed away with what appeared to be neck-twisting acceleration. She heard Emily let out a whoop, and then suddenly she was by herself, wishing that this party had never been planned, or that if it had been, that it was at some much more distant point in the future.

  Everything was relatively close in Portland, and it was a too-short twenty minutes to the hotel where Tapestry was having the party. For once, Angie wished for more traffic.

  Angie was two cars behind Thomas, Emily and Nick, pulling up to the front of the hotel to take advantage of the valet parking.

  Up ahead, she saw Igloo and Amber on the sidewalk, greeting guests as they arrived. There was another woman by Igloo’s side, dressed in black. From her profile, that must be Essie. A pity they’d never met, considering what an influence she’d been on Igloo. Igloo had traded in her usual white hoodie for a white lace dress. Angie chuckled as Igloo turned and presented a three-quarter view. Igloo’s lace dress was hooded. Some things always stay the same.

  And then again, some things change.

  Damn it. Igloo wasn’t going to understand.

  Angie pulled out her phone, typed a quick message, and hit send.

  The car in front of her pulled away.

  She rubbed a hand over the Gnu Car’s bulbous dashboard and took a deep breath.

  Chapter 31

  Igloo gave Thomas and Emily hugs, then directed them inside. She couldn’t wait to be done with this, to be inside with Essie. She glanced back, smiled at Essie.

  Essie gave her a bratty sneer back, then a laugh.

  A mix of relief and passion swept through her. That Essie was being playful was a good sign. When Igloo had finally shown up at home that afternoon, Essie took one look at the bags under her eyes and half-carried Igloo to bed. Igloo protested, but Essie insisted that she get at least an hour sleep. When she woke, Essie had shots of espresso and an energy drink at the ready. Igloo forced out incoherent apologies, but Essie shushed her and told her to drink her coffee. Somehow Essie had a seemingly limitless ability to forgive.

  When Igloo was done with the greeting charade here, she was going to go inside and find a quiet corner where she could share an intimate moment with Essie. She just wanted a moment to kiss and touch foreheads together and hold each other.

  Igloo brought herself back to the present as the next car pulled up, and Maria climbed out. She came around to open the passenger door. A beautiful woman in a slinky dress stepped out.

  Maria approached and gave Igloo a warm hug.

  “This is Danielle,” Maria said. “Danielle, this is Igloo.”

  How could Igloo have not known? Why was there no secret lesbian sign?

  Igloo reached out to shake Danielle’s hand, and then a searing flash forced her eyes shut. There was a whomp, and Igloo was thrown back against the wall as the world went to hell, projectiles smashed all around her. Something struck her forehead.

  She looked in the direction of the flash and saw flames, a fierce yellow-blue chemical blaze roaring out of a car.

  Angie’s car.

  Igloo screamed and tried to run toward the vehicle, but a hand grabbed her. Essie, pulling her away.

  Igloo briefly saw a silhouette of a human form against the flames in the car before another explosion threw her to the ground.

  Igloo woke in a hospital, the smell of burning plastic in her nose.

  “Angie?” Her voice cracked. “Angie!” she screamed.

  A shape moved in a chair next to her. Essie put her forehead against Igl
oo’s, and shook back and forth, salty tears running down her face into Igloo’s mouth.

  Igloo’s heart collapsed. She wished she were dead.

  “No.” Igloo flailed. “Nooo.”

  Essie grabbed her wrists and held her down. “Stop,” Essie hissed. “I don’t have the strength to fight you.”

  Igloo stopped thrashing and curled up. Angie. Angie. Angie.

  Igloo was on her side in the fetal position, numbly staring at Essie, who sat next to the bed hugging herself, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks.

  A nurse entered, and it took Igloo a moment to focus on him.

  He ignored Igloo and read a display next to the bed.

  “Is she okay?” Essie asked.

  The nurse looked at Essie, then Igloo.

  “You have a slight concussion,” he said. “But our main concern is smoke and chemical inhalation, specifically hydrogen cyanide, which forms in plastics fires. I need to put this mask on you.”

  “Is Amber okay? Is anyone else hurt?” Igloo asked, just before he fitted the mask onto her face.

  “Just breathe,” he said, turning to a medical display.

  “Our friends were at the hotel,” Essie said.

  “I’m sorry, we can only release medical information to family.” He held the mask in place for a minute longer, then pulled it off again.

  “The doctor will be in shortly.” He stared at Igloo. “There are two police officers here to see you.”

  He left and held the door open. Two officers, one man and one woman, entered.

  Igloo got a sudden case of déjà vu, and remembered the night Angie killed Chris Daly, the government agent who’d been stalking her. Police had questioned Igloo then about his death.

  “We understand you go by Igloo,” the woman said. “I’m Detective Calvert, and this is Detective Monroe. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “What happened tonight?” Monroe said.

  Igloo couldn’t believe they expected her to talk. She wanted everyone to go away. Leave her alone to mourn her friend. But they weren’t going anywhere.

  She summoned up some reserve of energy and explained about the company celebration, and how she’d glanced up to see Angie’s car as it burst into flame.

  Some part of her mind screamed and ranted on the inside while the other part soldiered on, doing its duty, machine-like and cold.

  “Any idea why she was driving alone?” Monroe said.

  Igloo shook her head. “No.”

  “According to a preliminary report from the fire department, the vehicle battery overheated and exploded. Do you know if she had problems with the vehicle?”

  “I don’t know if she had problems with the battery specifically, but there was always lots of issues with that car. It’s experimental, open source. Community built.”

  Her brain felt like it was operating at 5 percent normal capacity, but she had to wonder…if the battery exploded, was it faulty hardware, software, or deliberate?

  “Sorry,” Detective Calvert said, “but who makes it?”

  “Nobody makes it. It’s open source. She downloaded the designs, most of the physical parts were 3D printed, and she put it together with the help of a fabrication shop here in town.”

  “So she built it?”

  “I’m sorry,” Igloo said, “but why are we talking about who built her car?”

  “Because we’re trying to understand why Angelina Benenati died in a vehicle fire.”

  The words hit her like a brick, and she realized it was the first time someone acknowledged out loud that Angie was really dead.

  A small part of her mind thought that they should look at the charge controller. It would have detailed analytics and history for every cell in the battery pack. Igloo remembered Angie proudly showing off the onboard computer hidden in a compartment under the passenger seat.

  “Our forensic people say she sent a message just a few seconds before the explosion, but it was encrypted on the Tapestry network, and we can’t read it. We’d like Tapestry’s help in decoding the message.”

  Igloo couldn’t figure out what they were going on about. Did the regular police have that level of monitoring over everyone’s phone? She stared blankly at them.

  The police left eventually, and the doctor finally came in to see and treat both her and Essie. They were both released.

  “Some more members of your party are down the hall,” the doctor said, signing off on electronic forms. “What a night.” She seemed to be talking to herself, then she turned back to Igloo. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Pain blanketed Igloo’s body, both distanced and somehow magnified by exhaustion.

  “Come on,” Essie said. “Let’s get out of here.” She helped Igloo out of bed and kept one arm around her as they walked down the hallway.

  They stopped outside a room at the sound of Thomas’s voice. He sat sobbing, Emily next to him. They were holding hands.

  Igloo was an outsider to them. She wanted to go closer, to join them in their hug and scream out loud “I was Angie’s friend, too. We did things and kept secrets you can never know about.”

  But she couldn’t. The operational habits Angie had drilled into her meant there had always been distance between them. She wondered what sort of friendship they might have had if their secret pact, their hacking activities that were shared with no one else, hadn’t stood in the way, if they hadn’t needed to pretend they weren’t close.

  Would they have been closer, she wondered? Or more distant? She would never know.

  A sob started somewhere deep in her chest, so violent she thought she was going to be sick at first, and the sound that finally erupted from her sounded only half human. Thomas and Emily turned toward her. She couldn’t deal, not with them, nor with this situation. She fled from the room, dragging Essie behind her.

  She ran down the hallway, turned the corner, and ran straight into Maria. Somehow she found herself hugging Maria, squeezing her tight. Maria hugged her back, and Igloo sobbed into her shoulder.

  “She was everything to me,” Igloo whispered into Maria’s ear. “How can I go on?”

  Maria pulled back a little, and Igloo realized for the first time that Maria had her arm in a cast. “You are strong. You will survive.”

  Maria’s partner came up and put her arm around Maria, pulled Maria away gently, and they walked off down the hallway alone.

  Igloo turned to Essie who took her in a fierce hug.

  There was no coherent thought, just a carousel of images and vignettes. Meeting Angie for the first time in their offices at the old Puppet Labs space. Going out to lunch with Angie and Amber, brainstorming ways to change the world, to save the world. The relief on Angie’s face the day they secured their first outside investment. Angie saving her and her sister, when her sister had been the victim of a ratter who’d stolen her private photos and Igloo had tried to hunt them down herself, with no skills or knowledge whatsoever. Being coached for her first in-person social engineering attempt ever. Moving into the new offices. Going together to hunt down an abuser. Angie breaking down and crying the day Igloo convinced her to never kill anyone again.

  Essie was in front of her, talking to her. The words were distant. Igloo felt herself being pulled, guided, and then they were outside. She was pushed toward a car, forced into the seat. She distantly wondered why Essie was buckling her seatbelt, and then the nighttime lights blurred.

  She was in a bed sometime after that. It was dark, but she could make out Essie sleeping. She slid closer to Essie and wrapped her arms around her. Essie was warm and soft, and her arm curled responsively around Igloo.

  She lay there, wetness growing between her cheek and Essie’s chest.

  “You okay?” Essie asked, her voice floating in the darkness.

  “I’ve snotted your tit.”

  Essie reached over and handed her some tissues, then wrapped Igloo with both arms. Igloo flipped onto her other side and let Essie spoon her, holding her tight.<
br />
  “Tighter,” Igloo croaked, crying harder.

  Essie squeezed, almost crushing her, and Igloo fell back to sleep.

  Chapter 32

  In the morning, Igloo woke to find the bed empty next to her, kitchen sounds distant. She was drowning in an endless void.

  The bedroom door cracked open and Essie peeked in, and when she saw Igloo was awake she padded into the room naked. She approached, mug held by the handle in one hand, resting on the palm of the other. Her legs folded under her, and she knelt in the bed facing Igloo. She carefully, ritually turned the mug so the handle faced Igloo, and bowed her head.

  Some D/s relationships were all about such protocols, every behavior rigidly defined. Their relationship had never been that way. This presentation had always been Essie’s gesture of voluntary submission that said: “I offer myself to you.”

  Life goes on, Igloo thought, even when you don’t want it to. In this case, she had to pull herself together, be the Dominant that Essie needed her to be.

  She forced herself to rise to an upright sitting position, briskly rubbed her eyes, then oriented her upper body to face Essie directly. She took the coffee from Essie Japanese-style, using both hands to receive the cup, a gesture intended to show respect and full regard for the giver.

  “Thank you.” She forced the words out through a throat swollen with grief.

  Ritual complete, Essie crawled over and rested her head on Igloo’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

  Igloo wondered if Essie thought her reaction was completely out of proportion. Essie didn’t fully understand her relationship with Angie, and she might imagine that Igloo and Angie’s relationship was merely employee and CEO.

  Even Igloo didn’t totally grok her relationship with Angie. They’d kept up the pretense of distance. She never knew exactly where she stood, what was charade and what was real. All the things she could never say to Angie.