"Serves you right."
"Well, tonight I call a rematch." Blice says. "You shouldn't have won that tournament. I should have told them you were a computer so you couldn't actually qualify."
Isidore laughs. Did he really do something like that? "Fine. We'll play. But I have one condition."
"What's that?" Blice asks.
"Don't use me to run it."
"Oh, believe me, I'm not making that mistake again."
Isidore smells something gross. "What are you making?"
"A surprise. Doesn't it smell good?"
"No."
"It's not supposed to." Blice says as he opens the oven.
"Okay . . . then why are we going to eat it?"
"You have to eat this when you play video games." Blice comes into the living room and sits on the floor with two plates and a six-pack of beer under his arm. "I made us some Wasteland Pizza."
"Wasteland Pizza? What is that?" Isidore asks as he sits next to him.
"Some people call it pizza. It is pizza with whatever they can find and pile it on top."
"What's on that one?" Isidore picks it up and watches the toppings slip off onto his plate.
"Um, looks like some beans, some kind of orange sauce, some potatoes, a few corn chips, and it smells like whiskey and pickles." Blice says.
Well Isidore just lost any appetite he had. "You made it. Don't you know what you put on it?"
"Nope. That's part of the fun. You close your eyes and throw whatever you pick up on it then bake it. Ta-da!" Blice turns on the console and hands Isidore a controller. "Okay, let's get this started. I have been practicing every day for the past two years waiting on this day so I can get my revenge."
"I haven't played since the last time we played. That was years ago." Isidore says.
"Why are you always the robots?" Blice asks.
"Because I'm a computer. I can relate to them."
"You're not a robot, though."
"Doesn't matter." Isidore says. "Plus I like the little dance they do when they stab a human in the face."
"When do they do that?"
Isidore giggles and presses one button. Blice's character screams and dies as the little robot starts dancing. "When I win the game."
Blice glares at him and opens another beer. "This is why I stopped playing with you years ago. You're cheating. You're doing something stupid with your computer brain to do this. Maybe you are a robot. Only robots are this mean."
"Beep boop, you're dead!" Isidore laughs maniacally as he shoots Blice again.
Three hours pass and each that goes by involves Blice cursing more with each beer he finishes and Isidore having way too much fun killing the virtual humans. Isidore even ate the Wasteland Pizza which was interestingly delicious with one of Blice's beers he stole.
Blice turns the game off and picks up a large book from the coffee table. "Come here and look through this with me. I want to see if you can remember any of this stuff."
Isidore sits between his legs and Blice puts his arm around him. As Blice flips through the book of photographs, Isidore studies each one, trying to remember why he is there in every single one. There are pictures of him and Blice playing games, driving in a van that he swears is Vanessa, cooking together, and even sitting on the beach somewhere with surfboards. This is surreal, seeing himself in a different time doing things he has no recollection of with a man he had until recently viewed as a stranger and even a traitor. Now he finds that man is his owner and his best friend.
"Anything?"
Isidore shakes his head. "No. I'm sorry, but I don't."
Blice looks heartbroken. "Well, maybe in time, Niko. Maybe in time."
2
Something heavy slams into Isidore's back and he opens his eyes. "What the hell?"
Blice laughs and crawls on top of Isidore, pinning him down on the bed. "Get up, Niko. We have some fun stuff to do today."
Isidore groans as he pulls the blanket back over his face to block out the bright morning sunlight coming in through the open window. "You're cheerful this morning."
"I thought about what you said last night about being lonely so I found two people who should help you get over that. They will be escorted here and I will let you spend the day with them."
"Who are they?"
"It's a secret." Blice rolls off the bed and pulls a tan trench coat from the closet. "You need to wear your uniform so you can escort them around the city."
Isidore sits up and rubs his eyes. "You're not coming with me? What if they're bad people?"
"Oh, don't worry. They are bad people."
"Are you wanting to get rid of me, Blice?"
"Not at all. Just because I hate them with a blazing passion doesn't mean that they feel the same way about you. Just relax and have fun. Catch." Blice tosses him a leather wallet. "Spend it all. I don't have any use for it. Oh, and don't forget that you have level 10 clearance so you can go anywhere you want."
Isidore stands and stretches. This is so weird coming from Blice. "Since when do you let me go out alone?"
Blice spikes his hair with hair gel in the mirror before sliding on his red sunglasses. "Since I realize that I have been too strict. You are an inquisitor, after all. You will be safe in Paradise. I was worried that I would lose you. Now hurry and get ready so I can go watch this happen. I'm ready to watch the show."
"Blice . . . is this some kind of joke?"
"Not at all."
"I don't believe you." Isidore says as he slips on his jeans and pulls the tan trench coat on.
"Too bad."
"What if I don't want to go?"
"You have to go because I told you to." Blice says. He tosses Isidore his black boots.
"Yes, Blice." Isidore goes into the bathroom and braids his hair then smiles as he puts his red sunglasses on. He has to admit that he looks good. And powerful.
Blice pats his back. "Looking good, Isidore. Now want to know my secret?"
"What's that, Blice?"
Blice pulls a tiny glass bottle from the top shelf and dabs a bit of the liquid on his fingers. He smears it behind Isidore's ears. "There. Now you smell like an inquisitor."
"It smells like cinnamon and leather."
"Great, isn't it? The ladies like it too." Blice winks at him.
"Well, I'm not looking for any women today, Blice."
"True. But it's still nice to feel attractive, right?"
"I guess."
Blice puts his arm around Isidore and looks into the full length mirror. "Look at us. We are probably the two most handsome men in all of Paradise."
"You think so?"
Blice strikes a pose and spins in a circle. "I know so. You need to start thinking of yourself as a powerful man. Besides, you have money, good looks, and the backing of the inquisition. If I was a woman, I would be all over you."
"You know I don't like human women." Isidore says.
"And that's a good thing too. I can't lose you. Now smile for me, Niko."
Isidore smiles.
"There ya go. Now, let's go bless Paradise with our presence."
* * *
Byron hasn't stopped glaring at Damien the entire time they have been walking into Paradise for the first time since the Rubble Rebel attack. He could kill Damien and not feel bad about it. Why on Earth are they back here when these people wanted no more than to kill them both? Damien doesn't look worried as the inquisitors escort them towards the most extravagant and upscale part of the city where the wealthiest and most influential citizens live. Is he behind this? The call they received this morning told them to go to the front gates of Paradise and they would be met by Inquisition forces and then have a meeting with one of the highest members of the government. As one of the leaders of the Outland Forces, Damien knows many government officials, but which one is it and why do they want to meet with them?
Damien looks like he belongs behind these lead walls. He was born here and he was almost an inquisitor, so it makes sense. Even afte
r being exiled from this city and being turned into a material altering genetic experiment, a M.A.G.E., he still walks with his head held high and blends in too easily with the common citizens on the streets. A couple of times, Byron almost loses sight of him.
An inquisitor waves at the other inquisitors then approaches Byron and Damien with a smile on his face. Byron studies him as he gets closer and a growing uneasy feeling rises in his chest. Inquisitors don't smile.
The inquisitor stops and slides his red sunglasses up and places them on top of the silver braids in his hair. "Hey guys."
"What the hell did you do?" Byron asks.
"Just listen to me-"
"No. An inquisitor?" Damien asks. "You of all people, an inquisitor? Isidore . . . why?"
Isidore holds out his hands. "Please don't be like this. It's all very complicated and even I don't know the details." He dismisses the other inquisitors. "I am Inquisitor Williams. Sounds cool, doesn't it?"
"No. No it doesn't. It sounds evil." Byron says.
"That's why I have been living in Paradise. The Inquisition is trying to work with me." Isidore turns around and calls out. "You can come out now."
When the man steps out of the building, Byron drops his shotgun in shock. He could have sworn he was dead. He prayed that he was dead. Now here he is and Byron wants to kill him more than he ever has before. So now he has converted Isidore as well?
"Hello, friends. Nice to see you two finally in Paradise when you're not trying to kill me. I won't stab you in the back this time, Damien. Though, I should torture you and drag your corpse through the streets for letting those Rubble Rebels shoot Isidore."
Blice McSage. Byron's eyes narrow and he steps up to him. "You're alive."
"And so are you." Blice says. "So be grateful and don't try anything while you're in Paradise. I see you're still limping. You should do something about that dark matter before you lose your leg."
"And what would I do about it?" Byron asks.
"Cut your leg off and save yourself years of agony as it gets worse."
"Well, look at this." Byron rolls up the right leg of his pants. "It's all mechanical now. Thanks to you."
"Getting used to relying on technology?" Blice grins.
"Shut up."
Blice examines it. "Hmmm, titanium. Nice. You should be praising the ingenuity and technological advances of Paradise for that. Now, I see you aren't too happy about your friend's position in the Inquisition."
"What are you doing with him, anyway?" Damien asks as he looks Isidore over.
"He's my personal computer. I thought everyone knew that. He does whatever I need him to do."
Byron's anger starts to rise again and the longer he stays near Blice, the more he is reminded of why he hates him. "So he's your slave?"
"First off, computers aren't slaves." Blice puts his arm around Isidore's back and holds him close to his side. "Second, Isidore and I are friends. Even if he could leave on his own volition, he wouldn't because he likes being here. Isn't that right, Niko?"
Isidore puts his sunglasses back on and crosses his arms. "Yes, Blice."
"Why are you calling him that?" Byron asks.
"What? Niko? That's my name for him. His middle name is Nikolai and when I was twenty, I thought Niko was cool. I've always called him that. What of it?"
"Does he like it?"
Blice turns to Isidore. "You like my name for you, right, Niko?"
"Yes, Blice."
"He's just saying that so you don't hurt him." Byron says.
"Excuse me?" Blice storms up to Byron and takes off his sunglasses. "I'm not the one who beat him and let him take two hundred bullets for a crime he didn't do."
Byron pushes Blice's shoulders. "Get away from me, McSage. So help me God, if you hurt Isidore, I will kill you."
"Maybe you should worry about Mr. Montgomery. Yes, I've heard everything you did to my Niko. You truly are a heartless man."
Damien shouts at him. "At least I'm not evil."
"Says the traitor who shot his partner in the back and paralyzed him from the waist down all because he wanted the glory to himself."
"Oh yah? Well, you literally stabbed me in the back. Who's the traitor now?"
Isidore steps in between them and holds out his arms. "Stop. There's no need for fighting, especially not over me. I belong to Blice and no one else. I obey orders because that is what I was born to do. Now, please stop arguing. Damien and Byron, I will speak with you more later." Isidore turns to Blice and bows. "Blice, I'm sorry for intervening."
"It's okay." Blice says as he pats Isidore's arm. "I'll be going now. Don't let them try to tell you that you're any less of a person because you're mine. They don't know the friendship we have. You mean the world to me, Isidore." He walks away and turns down an alley.
They go over to a small grassy park in the middle of the square. Isidore sighs and sits on a bench near the fountain.
"You're crying." Byron says.
"I'm not."
"Take your sunglasses off."
"No. You don't order me around anymore, Damien."
Damien twists Isidore's arm behind his back. "I told you to remove your sunglasses, computer."
"Fine." Isidore throws his sunglasses on the bench next to him. His eyes are red from crying and he wipes the tears from his face.
Byron sits down beside him. "Is Blice hurting you?"
"No. He's really nice, but I'm all alone. He's all I have now and sometimes he doesn't understand why I think the way I do about stuff."
"What's that bruise from?" Damien examines a deep bruise on Isidore's arm.
"I tripped over some machine parts I left in the floor." Isidore says as he pulls his sleeve back down.
"What's it really from?"
Isidore pulls away from him. "Blice isn't beating me. I'm fine, really."
"Do you want to leave?" Byron asks. "We can sneak you out. I'm sure we can find a way."
"I'm happy here."
"Are you really?" Damien asks.
"Yes. I have everything I could ever want. Look." Isidore takes the wallet out of his pocket and opens it. "Ten thousand dollars. Blice gave it to me this morning for no reason. I live with him in his expensive house with a greenhouse and all the apples I can eat. It's wonderful."
"So he's bribing you now?" Damien asks.
"What? No. Why are you two so convinced that Blice is a terrible person? He's a good guy and he's . . . my friend."
Byron watches the tiny ducklings swimming in the purified water. "So you've got your memories back?"
"Not yet. I've remembered some things, but it's still cloudy."
"What if you two weren't as close as he is trying to make you believe? Without your memories, he can tell you whatever he wants." Damien says.
"Stop, will you? You're just jealous because you don't have a friend like I have in Blice."
"How can you two be truly friends if you have to do what he says in fear that he will punish you?" Damien asks. "I realize that our friendship ended the second I started treating you like an inferior being. And I still regret it."
"You wouldn't understand." Isidore says. "You two are fully human so you have no way of knowing what this kind of relationship is like. I need my owner to keep me operating properly and he will protect me from anything. He doesn't have to be so nice to me, either. I know what owners used to do to their T.I.M.E.s. They could get away with torturing them, raping them, and killing them because we aren't viewed as being human. Don't you see that? My best possible life is with Blice. If I had a different owner, they could hurt me and I would suffer without a say in anything. For the most part, Blice treats me as an equal."
Damien stands and pulls Isidore to his feet. "That's enough from you. You're coming with us even if I have to beat some sense into you in order to do it."
"I am an inquisitor." Isidore says. "You don't dare talk to me like that. Lay one finger on me and see what happens to you, M.A.G.E."
"Oh, aren't you s
o high and mighty now? Did all of your luxury make you forget about us out in the wasteland?"
"Shut up. As an inquisitor, I order you to stand down and stop threatening me."
Damien steps up in Isidore's face. "Order me? Now the computer thinks he can order around a person? I will put you in your place, Isidore. Or should I say Niko?"
Isidore punches Damien in the face and a group of inquisitors rushes over. They surround Damien and Byron. "Escort them out of the city. They have overstayed their welcome." Isidore says as he puts his sunglasses back on and walks off.
* * *
Isidore takes off his trench coat and only has a few moments of peace and quiet before the doorbell rings and he goes to see who it is. "Who is it?"
"Do you always smell like apples?"
Who is that? It can't be who he thinks it is. He opens the door and smiles at the woman with the black wavy hair. "Clara?"
"Hi, Isidore."
"What are you doing here?" Isidore asks, looking her over. She is wearing her trench coat today and looks just as beautiful as when he saw her in the rearview mirror as he drove away and left her at that inquisition outpost.
"I can't stay long. I'm on assignment. I had to stop by and see how you were doing."
"Come in."
"What about Blice?" Clara asks.
"He won't mind. He's not home right now anyway." Isidore holds the door open for her then follows her into the living room.
Clara removes her coat and tosses it on the back of a chair. "Wow, nice house. So this is where our Master Director lives."
"Yep. And me. My bedroom is over there."
"Do you like it here?" Clara asks as she looks at the tall ceilings and the artwork on the walls.
"Most of the time."
"Most of the time? Is Blice not nice to you?"
"Oh, he is." Isidore says, getting really tired of people asking this question. "It's just that he doesn't let me have any friends other than him and I get lonely. I may be an inquisitor, but he doesn't give me any assignments that I can't do inside the house. It's mostly compiling data or scanning through files. You know, computer stuff. Sit with me and we can talk."
They sit on the sofa and Isidore tries to contain his emotions. Why is she affecting him like this? He tries to think of something to say, but he can't. What can he say after so long apart?
Paradise of Lead Trilogy Page 29