Paradise of Lead Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  Isidore shakes his head and wipes down the counter. "You've always been stubborn."

  "And you've always been insane. What of it?"

  "I'm still heartbroken after Damien killed my baby." Isidore says, his mood turning darker.

  "Your van? Your van gave its life for you. Honor its legacy."

  He smiles and sighs. "Get out of here. You're taking up my time and I have some tequila to bless."

  "You bless the tequila?"

  "Those poor bastards that drink it need some kind of protection." Isidore says as he laughs.

  Byron slides some money across the counter. "Take it easy, Isidore. If I don't get another chance to see you before one of us leaves this planet, know that I'm glad to have known you."

  "The same goes to you, man. Oh, you're not leaving Damien here, are you?" Isidore asks. "He'll only cause trouble. We have enough electricity around here."

  Damien. Byron looks at the floor. "He doesn't know I'm leaving. Let this be our secret, okay? I can't bring myself to say goodbye to him. If he asks, tell him . . . tell him I love him . . . like a brother. Damn it, Isidore. You've got me all choked up. I have to go. Please take care of Damien for me. Don't let him kill anyone."

  They both laugh and Byron turns to the door. "And Isidore, pray for me, will you?"

  "Sure thing, buddy. See you when I see you."

  "One more thing." Byron says as he puts his hand on Isidore's shoulder. "Watch out for the Inquisition. I don't want you falling into their hands. Please never lose the human side of you. Don't let what Damien said get to you. You're a great person and if you become just a computer, you won't be able to help people like you do."

  Isidore crosses his arms and stares at the floor. "We'll see. I can't make any promises."

  "I know. Just think about it."

  "I will. See ya later."

  This is it. Back on the road again, all alone as he has been for so many years of his life. He's ready for this. He has everything he needs now and the world is open and waiting to be discovered. Sure, it's not perfect, but what is anymore? What did they truly accomplish? Nothing. But that's not what matters. Even though the Inquisition is still looking for them, Byron got what he wanted: revenge. And yes, it was sweet. Revenge is the refreshing and delicious nectar of a cold river when you've been crawling across the barren desert for weeks with not a drop of rain to fall on your tongue. It is the warmth of a blazing hearth for the weary traveler in the arctic, the red glow in the eastern sky as the sun returns to the world after an endless night, and the delicate, tender kiss of a lover after being away for years. But in the end, the river runs dry, the fire dies down to coals, the night falls again, and lovers leave. The gratification is enrapturing yet finite. So Byron is forced to chase after a new form of pleasure, something that will last longer and maybe . . . just maybe, he will find some true happiness. He makes his way to the edge of town where the long abandoned and neglected railroad tracks run parallel to the foggy mountains in the distance.

  Byron looks down the desolate railroad tracks, the dull metal glistening under the hazy yellow sunlight. Shifting the weight of his backpack on his shoulders, he takes his first step towards a life alone and a forbidding wasteland of empty possibilities. He doesn't know where the dilapidated tracks will lead him, but he is ready to be going anywhere else but here. Rubble City has nothing left to offer him. He pulls out a couple of red pills and slips them onto his tongue. There are plenty more to keep him steady for weeks.

  "Byron!" Someone calls from behind him.

  Bryon stops as the footsteps approach.

  A hand grabs Byron's shoulder and Damien grins mischievously. "Where are you going? Trying to leave without me?"

  Byron spins his shotgun in his fingers like he learned from Isidore and aims at Damien. "You can come, but only if you don't flinch."

  "If I don't flinch when what?"

  Byron pulls the trigger and the shot speeds past Damien's head.

  "Damn you, Byron!" Damien pushes his shoulder and they both laugh.

  "You flinched." Byron says.

  "You're a bastard. I'm still coming with you and there's nothing you can do about it." Damien says.

  "Fine. Keep an eye on the sky and tell me if you hear a chopper. You'll be my human shield."

  Damien crosses his arms. "Maybe I'll just flinch again."

  Byron ignores his friend and stuffs his shotgun back down inside his backpack. The splintered and crumbling rubble crunches under his feet as they walk and watch a plume of black smoke rise above the mountains on the horizon.

  "You didn't sell that ring?" Damien asks, motioning to Leena's ring on the necklace around Byron's neck.

  "What? Oh . . . no, I didn't."

  "You gonna bring it with us? I thought you were going to leave it." Damien says.

  That's right. Leena. Byron knows he can't take her with him. She belongs here in Rubble City where she helped the people and always felt at home. He pulls the cord from around his neck and slides the tiny silver ring from it. Holding it up to his lips, Byron kisses it one last time and kneels down on the parched and dusty ground. He scratches away at the dirt and places the ring in the hole. He buries it and stands again, ready to face the world ahead of him and leave Leena behind.

  "Byron, look." Damien says as he points to the ground.

  From the little grave where Byron buried Leena's ring comes a pale green glow. He watches intently as the tiniest fresh young leaf peaks out from the dust. It grows and twists in the nurturing aura of regeneration magic until it blossoms into a perfect pink daisy, just like the one on the Inquisition insignia. He kneels down and takes the blossom in his hands. The cracks in the dry lake bed fill with green grass and tiny pink flowers.

  So this is what the Inquisition has been developing. No wonder Blice wanted Leena's ring back. Just as quickly as the life sprouted from the ground, it wilts and leaves the landscape as barren as it was minutes before.

  Damien digs up the ring and hands it back to Byron. "We can't leave something this powerful behind. I'm sure once we get to Styx, there will be scientists who will love to see this. We can develop it and make the effects last. We can restore the Earth."

  Byron stands and brushes the dust from his pants. "Maybe I don't want to restore the earth. Most of humanity doesn't deserve another chance. We'll keep this our little secret and if I deem the people worthy, only then will I use this."

  "You know that the Inquisition will continue hunting us down, right? Especially now that they know we have their prized invention."

  Byron grins and puts on his hat. "Let 'em. I'm not going down without a fight. Besides, this play is in our favor. If we keep this hidden, then they won't let us die with it because we have the ring. Get it? We are even more valuable to them. And as long as we hold onto this, we can help ensure that humanity on this planet is preserved for as long as possible. We can use this when we deem necessary and hopefully someone will know how to make it even better. Well, let's get moving. I need some Alezi Blue, a nice woman, and something to eat other than that damned soup."

  "You don't like my soup?"

  "If I was captured by the Inquisition and they told me to eat your soup or be tortured, I would gladly be hungry and bloody." Byron says.

  "Good to see that you're still an ass." Damien says.

  "I may be an ass, but at least I have this." Byron pulls an ancient-looking chocolate bar from his pocket.

  "Where in the world did you get that?"

  Byron tears open the wrinkled wrapper and takes a bite as he flicks his wrist and five cards slip into his hand from his sleeve. He holds them up. Five aces. "I don't only count cards. I stack the decks."

  T.I.M.E.

  Paradise of Lead Book Two

  1

  As he pours the champagne and stretches out on the red silk sheets, Isidore smiles. He picks up the remote for his radio and puts on some sultry music. When he snaps his fingers, three women in black lingerie join him on the bed and he put
s his arms around two of them. No wonder they call this place Paradise. He still can't get used to all of this. He has it all.

  Isidore runs his fingers through his silver hair that is still damp from the hot tub. He breathes deep of the clean filtered air that smells like cinnamon and apples. Speaking of apples, he had the best thing ever that he didn't even know existed. Apple pie with apples freshly picked from the apple trees growing in his greenhouse along with the other plants. He's gained ten pounds since moving here, but he doesn't mind. He needed to eat something anyway. And of course his women like it. They would never complain.

  His one complaint? He cut his hair a bit shorter because the wind from his private helicopter messed it up sometimes. It's worth it. It's all worth it. If someone had asked Isidore where he thought he would be when he was twenty-one years old, this would have been the very last thing on the list.

  However, even as the women play with his hair and their hands move over his body, Isidore isn't happy. He is trying everything he can think of to make the best of this, to finally feel true happiness and not just what he is programmed to feel. Of course the sensations and arousal are real, but there is a hollowness in his mind that he can't push past.

  Isidore's cell phone rings on the bedside table. He pushes the women off of him and pulls a silk robe around his body.

  The women call out to him in their own special way.

  "Ladies, ladies. Please. I have to get the phone. Don't look at me like that. You know my heart lies with you beautiful women. You're always so jealous of my phone. I swear to you that I haven't slept with it. I'll be right back." He picks up his phone and goes into the living room. "Hey, Byron. Long time no see. What's up?"

  "We um . . . we need your help. Are you busy?" Byron asks.

  Isidore glances back into the bedroom. "I, uh, kind of. Can it wait? I was in the middle of something."

  "Oh. Well, thanks for the cell phones. Don't know where you got the money for them, but thanks. So I was in Rubble City with Damien and you weren't there. The Rubble Rebels said that you left about two months ago. Where are you?"

  Isidore sighs and watches his reflection in the large mirror. "It's a long story. How did your trip to Styx go?"

  "We didn't go. We made it about halfway then some inquisitors found us and stole Leena's ring."

  "Leena's ring?"

  "Yah, it's Inquisition technology that can temporarily grow things like flowers and grass. So where are you? We want to come see you." Byron says.

  "You can't come see me, Byron. I live in Paradise now."

  "What? How?"

  "Like I said, it's a long story." The tears start to sting in Isidore's eyes. "I have to go."

  "Stop. Are you okay? You don't sound very good."

  Isidore runs his hand though his hair and tries to not break down. "Yah, everything's great. Paradise is . . . perfect." Why does he lie? Even now, he lies.

  "All right. Well, we're here for you if you need to talk to us."

  "I have to go."

  "I needed to talk to you about some stuff. We-"

  Isidore hangs up and tosses his phone on his leather couch. The longer he talks to them, the more aware of his mortality he becomes and then he has to face the fact that he's human . . . at least part human. He can't think about that right now. He goes back into the bedroom and falls on the bed. "Can you just hold me? I don't feel very good today." Isidore says as he puts the woman's arms around him and starts drifting off to sleep.

  "Powering down." One of the women says.

  Isidore sighs and carries the woman to the corner of the room where he plugs in a charging cable and watches the tiny charging light on her neck turn on. He runs his fingertips up to her red lips. They may feel real, but they never will be. He built each of them himself, each with a different personality, a different voice, and parts of the original electronic device that he had first been attracted to. This one has some of the wires from a computer he found in the street. The others have parts of a radio, a cell phone antenna, or a motherboard. His special lady has a tiny piece of the steering wheel from his recently deceased van. That van was the first machine he ever loved and the day that Damien killed her, it was all that Isidore could do to keep from falling apart. He had that van since he was thirteen and they did everything together.

  Even now, he can still remember the cool curves of the metal and the way it felt under his hands. Her voice was the voice of an angel, the soft purring of the engine, the way she responded to his touch when he pressed on the accelerator, the electronic buzz of her radio when there was no signal. He would give up everything he has now to have her back. Vanessa. She meant everything to Isidore and then she was abruptly and violently killed. He still dreams about her and no matter how many computers, vacuum cleaners, radios, microwaves, and televisions he surrounds himself with, he can't forget about her. If a T.I.M.E. is able to feel true and everlasting love, he had that with Vanessa.

  Human women can never compare to the intimacy he finds with the mechanical and the electronic beings that call to him. But no matter how much love he gives them, it is never reciprocated. They don't answer back as humans would, they can't care or help him deal with the emotional issues he is having. They can't understand his deepest fears because they have no fears. That is part of why he is so helplessly attracted to them. They can't feel emotions so they can't be harmed by those emotions. If only the computerized part of him could take full control and take away all the human emotions that make him weak. Isidore wants to be like them. They do what they are programmed to do and go about their days without worry or pain from a broken heart. They don't suffer from memories he wishes he could forget. They don't lie awake at night wishing that God would take them from this earth. They have no need for all of that . . . unless the programmer or the mechanic wills them to. There is a beautiful simplicity to their barren complexity.

  Isidore turns the other women off and pulls back the shades from the window to look down over the clean and bustling streets of Paradise. The families walk together with their children, the cars speed by going somewhere important, and couples hold hands while laughing together under the neon lights. Some carry packages filled with food for dinner, games to be played, or movies to be watched. They will go back to their fancy homes and spend the evening with their friends and loved ones. Who does Isidore have? No one. Isidore is a computer and according to Damien, computers are unlovable.

  "Isidore! I'm home."

  Blice. Isidore doesn't want to deal with him right now. He'll probably want him to run some stupid program or search through some more files. Isidore doesn't want to think about his life right now, even though it is the one continuous and pervading aspect that he can't run from.

  "Where are you?" Blice calls again as he looks through the house.

  Isidore tries to hide down on the floor on the side of his bed away from the door. Maybe if he can't find him, Blice will leave again and let Isidore be alone with his thoughts. He'll be back, though. This is Blice's house, after all. Something jumps on the bed behind him and Blice pokes Isidore's shoulder.

  "Niko, what's wrong?"

  Isidore wipes his tears on his sleeves. "Nothing."

  Blice rolls off the bed then kneels down beside him and takes him in his arms. "What did I tell you about lying?"

  "Forgive me."

  "Now tell me what's wrong. I don't like seeing you like this."

  "Please don't make me tell you, Blice. I don't want to make you angry. I'm trying to be the best for you."

  "I don't need you to be the best." Blice says. "I want you to be my Niko. Now, I will get angry at you if you don't tell me why you are so sad."

  "I'm lonely." Isidore says.

  "Lonely? You have so many friends."

  "Mechanical friends . . ."

  "You have me. I'm the only human friend you need. This is because I have been working so much lately, isn't it? We haven't had a chance to get used to this. This is a big change for you. We haven't b
een able to sit down and talk about everything. Well, tonight we fix that. Go get dressed and I'll make us some dinner."

  "Yes, Blice."

  Blice goes into the kitchen and begins unpacking the bags he brought in. "I'm making something that we used to eat together when we would stay up all night playing video games. You always won because you cheated. I should have known better, playing against a computer."

  Isidore attempts to ignore Blice's singing as he pulls on some jeans and a t-shirt. He barely remembers any of this. Even with the customized operating system that Blice made for him, some of his files stored in his memory are still locked and no one can offer an explanation for it. Occasionally, some event or word has triggered a memory in his mind and he has been able to remember things. When he doesn't take the clear circular pills, he has nightmares that he can't explain, some are memories, some are just glitches that show his greatest fears. Even when that happens, Blice is right there in the middle of the night to comfort him.

  "So what did you do today?"

  Isidore sits on the sofa in the living room and turn on the television. "Not much."

  "Did you go over those files for me to make sure there weren't any viruses?"

  "Yes. I sent them to your watch."

  "Thanks. I was thinking that we could play a game tonight."

  Oh great. Isidore's excitement is just a bit more than if he was about to be skinned alive and thrown into a vat of rubbing alcohol. "What game, Blice?"

  "Do you remember us playing this?" He tosses a plastic case to Isidore.

  Robot Invasion: Return of the Emperor. How could he not? "Well, I don't remember playing it. I remember you losing every game."

  "Oh, you're so funny. I would have won if you didn't make my screen go black so you could shoot me in the face."

  "Would I do something like that, Blice?" Isidore asks.

  "Yes, yes you would. Damn computers using their technology for evil. I was on the top of the Paradise leader boards until you started doing that. I was never able to get back in the top ten."