Keepers

by Brenda Cooper

  She loved him for his honesty but it made her squirm. “I want a world where no one needs to commit suicide, and where Lou is safe, and where . . .”

  He let her trail off, and then he spoke what she was already thinking. “The next few weeks will feel like a test. We are testing you, and Lou. We’re testing Lou by making her solve her own problems. So far, she’s doing fine.” He paused as if thinking hard. “She could be a stronger negotiator. She’s softer than her reputation.”

  “That’s good,” Coryn immediately responded.

  “Maybe.”

  “She always cared about other people and how they feel.”

  “She may need to care less about that.”

  Coryn frowned.

  “You want her to survive, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “We want you both to survive. We’re going to test you. I know the questions Julianna gave you. I’m going to add three. What makes you so happy you want to sing? What makes you want to cry? What would you die for?”

  The last question drew a surprised smile from her. “You’re reminding me of Blessing again.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Blessing might be the strongest one of all of us. We’re getting old, and we need to choose who and what will be supported after we die.”

  A sudden fear made her shiver. “Is Julianna okay?”

  “So far.”

  She scribbled Jake’s three questions down. Happy? Cry? Die? She added the word Belong? before she folded the paper and then shoved the questions, and her poorly drawn purple horse, into her pocket.

  “You should go now,” Jake said.

  “I was going to meet Adam to work on the analytics.”

  “He’s not coming today.”

  “Julianna said she needed him tomorrow.”

  “Not today. You need to go pack. We’ll send staff to move you in the morning. Train as usual. Then come back here, on time, to work. I’ll manage the morning shift for you. You’ll need this afternoon to pack out.”

  Why was he being so gruff with her?

  “Go.”

  She glanced back at the image from Chelan. No lightning this time. Just clouds. Gray clouds, as indeterminate and roiling as her own feelings. It almost made her ill to look at them.

  She barely managed to close the door behind her with some sort of civility before hot tears raced down her cheeks. She kept her head down, pushed the elevator button, and tapped her toe as she waited for it.

  It opened to reveal Julianna stepping out. Coryn tried mumbling hello and pushing into the elevator.

  “Stay strong,” Julianna whispered as she swept past her to go to Jake’s side.

  ‡ ‡ ‡

  Her room door opened as she approached. Aspen careened through it and jumped, landing in her arms. She clutched him so tightly that he yelped. “Sorry . . .”

  He licked her face, forgiving her.

  At least someone loved her no matter what she did.

  A small stack of boxes had been set just inside the door. Maybe five boxes. She stared at them for a long time, so surprised to see them that it took a moment to register what she should be doing. These little boxes would hold everything she owned.

  She sat down on the middle of her bed, cold and shivering unexpectedly. Aspen leaned into her, too light to knock her over even though he dug his back feet in and pushed with his shoulder. “I’m okay,” she murmured, entirely unsure if it was true.

  Was she being kicked out of the inner circle? Blessing had told her that might happen, but she hadn’t really believed him.

  Jake had told her to report for work.

  Had she done something clueless and lost the game of politics?

  If so, what would she do?

  Her limbs felt so heavy with remorse and guilt that she couldn’t move. Not only could her dog not move her, but she couldn’t move. It was the strangest feeling, like being trapped inside her own fears.

  What if she just walked out? She couldn’t imagine it, but what if she did? She knew how to live on basic, how to live in the myriad itinerant housing pods.

  A full half an hour passed before she slowly slid off the bed and stood. She looked in the mirror and saw her mother looking back at her, the same hopeless look, the same deep sadness.

  That wasn’t okay.

  She would never kill herself.

  She had sworn that to Paula.

  Who wasn’t here anymore.

  She missed Paula. When bad things happened, she still felt the loss of her lifelong companion. She was intellectually past it, would never get attached to a robot again. She knew better. A child’s addiction. But times like this, when she would have teased Paula or been held by her, been comforted, at times like this, her emotions ignored her brain.

  And Jake.

  If she was supposed to be okay without Paula, then she needed her people. Jake.

  Now she was going to have to be okay without Jake.

  She took three deep breaths, feeling a cleaner emotion creeping up. Anger. It made her strong enough to start filling the boxes. Three pairs of running shoes and two clean running outfits.

  Would Julianna still send her new outfits? Or have them sent, more accurately?

  Aspen watched, quiet, his little ears back.

  Would Adam meet her in the morning to run?

  Three dresses and two pairs of shorts and a pair of jeans, a pair of sandals and a pair of boots. Some make-up.

  She eyed her covers and pillows. They were soft and she was used to them.

  But they weren’t actually hers. They stayed.

  She opened drawers and found small things. A hairbrush. Her electronic journal.

  She filled four boxes. She stared at them and then she stared at the bed and then she took three deep breaths.

  She still had a job. She still had a place to live. She didn’t know where it was, but she had one. So she wasn’t at the mercy of shared housing. Yet. Her chin quivered. She wasn’t in the orphanage. She would see Jake tomorrow.

  Jake, who was dying. After he died, she had Adam the drinker, and

  Julianna the elusive, and, somewhere out in Chelan, her sister and Blessing.

  What was she going to do without Jake?

  She had Aspen. She called him and he came, curling in her lap. She scratched him behind the ears, an almost mindless movement, as soothing to her as it seemed to be to the dog.

  He had clearly picked up on her emotions. His ears drooped and he gave off tiny little moans.

  She hated the sound of her own mind in this state. She hated herself for feeling sorry for herself. Pathetic.

  She tried some yoga poses Julianna had taught her. A full sun salutation, complete with high stretches and a long downward dog that teased some of the stiffness out of her thigh muscles.

  Aspen went to the corner of the room and sat, still solemn, still watchful.

  She dug the crumpled piece of paper with the few words and the purple horse on it out of her pocket. She dug her journal out of the box.

  She threw the covers and blankets into the empty box and sat on her bare mattress and started working on the answers to the questions.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Coryn woke long before the alarm. The covers that she had unboxed to sleep in had wrapped around her like a straightjacket, and she had to strain to free herself. Aspen jumped on her chest and she pushed him away. “You’re hot.”

  He jumped down and stood by the door, looking slightly desperate. She pulled on one of the two outfits she’d packed the night before, changed, and repacked her bedding and everything dirty.

  Just as she reached for Aspen’s leash, Adam came in, followed by two house-bots. “Good morning! Julianna asked me help you get things settled in the new place.” He sounded gratingly cheerful.

  “Good morning.” She bent down for a box.

  “Robocart. Right outside.”

  It took two minutes to load up. As they follow
ed the cart down the hallway to the elevator, Adam said, “She wanted me to remind you that you needed a place you will be able to afford.” He wasn’t looking at her. “It’s not as nice as this. But the people are great and there are shared amenities. You’ll like it.”

  How did he know? She stifled a frustrated reply and glanced at her dog. “Aspen needs to go out.”

  “We’ll stop by the park.”

  She’d realized how little she knew about his life when he wasn’t around her. “Where do you live?”

  “I’m moving into your old room. We’re switching, you and I. It’s easiest. Julianna needs me inside of her security perimeter.”

  That jolted her a little out of herself. “Are you in danger? What have you found out?”

  “Not here.”

  She should have asked him before they left the security of Julianna’s household. “Where’s your room?”

  “Your room now?” He smiled down at her with an insincere politeness that she found annoying.

  “Wait, I don’t deserve any security?”

  “What? The city’s not enough for you?”

  He was teasing her. He probably could tell her whatever he knew, but he liked to treat her half like someone to flirt with, half like someone just a little below him. She had fallen for it on her first few training runs with him, but no more. Aspen wriggled in her arms, and she turned her attention to the dog. “We need a park.”

  They pulled off of the bridge. The robocart waited while they took an escalator up to the top of the building. The city was going to allow rain—the air smelled of it, and clouds gusted around the dome. Fall, coming in with a threat of winter. She’d read it might be early this year, and hard. Seacouver hadn’t been snowed on in twenty years, but there were rumors about snow this winter.

  It was so early they almost had the park to themselves. A few companion-bots and one human walked dogs. They didn’t stay any longer than necessary.

  Five minutes later, they entered the Scholes Building, with its wide, comfortable corridors, the robot’s wheels bumping along the slate tile behind them. They went through Scholes, and out on the north side into one of the newer buildings. Well, not brand new; a decade or so old. It had been built for tech workers, converted to regular housing, converted back to tech, and was now out of favor since there were even newer buildings for the tech elite.

  They turned off the corridor, and went through a door to interior elevators. The sign by the elevator said Salish Building: Floor seventy-one. She could remember that—it made her think of orcas.

  She peered down a hallway, noting moving art on the walls and three older people walking together, hand in hand, talking.

  “Hurry up!”

  Her training schedule. She jogged a little to catch up. Behind her, the bot sped up. She was too distracted to note which floor he pushed, but as soon as the door closed she realized the elevator was going down to a part of the city below the bridges and the best views, below the roof gardens and the most powerful people. Well, Julianna and Jake owned whole top floors. If she was leaving their real-estate bubble, then she had to go down to pay for it.

  Adam had survived. She would, too.

  The elevator stayed empty. It was big enough for ten people, maybe more, but Adam stood so close they were a hair from touching. She stepped a little back from him, enduring a slightly hurt glance with as much stoicism as she could manage.

  They went all the way down to twelve.

  Twelve? It was going to be faster to go down to street level to get anywhere. Except then you had the doors to contend with. The security chipset Julianna had dropped in her hand let her travel the bridges, or at least most of them. Did it let her in and out of street doors?

  Adam leaned back close to her, in position to kiss her. As if she’d let him.

  She pushed him away, knocking him a little off balance so he had to take an extra step. His eyes widened, and he mumbled, “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She stepped through the doors. “Which direction?”

  He just stood there, making no choice. “I’m sorry I’m leaving. I picked this place, and Julianna approved it because this whole building is infested with diplomats and midlevel techies and government types. It’s a good listening post. But that’s why she likes it. I like it because it’s the best apartment of its size on the lower floors.”

  He was babbling. He sounded like he felt guilty and also like he was praying she’d like it.

  They turned twice more and he opened the door, standing aside and letting her walk in. Across from her, wide windows looked out on the city. The view was a corridor between two buildings that made it look like the apartment was in a canyon. She could see a narrow rectangle of the Sound, green walls on one side and old brick walls on the other, and above her, the grungy bottom of a bridge. She walked to the windows. The room she had just left only had virtual windows. This one had a real window, and a myriad of things to see through it. She reached toward a spider web that hung in the corner of the window before realizing it was on the outside.

  Aspen wriggled, and she glanced back to be sure the door was closed before letting him down.

  The water view mesmerized her. The steel gray sea looked angry, darker than the sky. She smiled; in that moment, nothing else mattered about her new home. The view. The view would save her.

  This—even this—was better than any place they’d ever lived while she was growing up. Nothing like being in one of Julianna’s own rooms on the top floor, but the view was not a plain and somewhat grimy street in Kent.

  Outside the window and off to the right, she spotted rails and an open balcony. No entrance from this room, but there were two doors out to the balcony, so there had to be more rooms.

  Adam spoke, bringing her back to the moment. “I left you two chairs. Julianna ordered a bed. The rest is up to you. There’s an allowance.”

  “Okay.” She turned around to look at the room she’d just walked through. Sure enough, two chairs. Big, rounded, overstuffed, and cringe green. The deep, narrow room felt oriented toward the view. Maybe she’d put a yoga mat down in front of the window. She could do sun salutations to the sea.

  “The bedroom’s this way.”

  She followed him. Sure enough, there was a bed in the small room. Also, a door to the balcony. No window. A strange woman sat on the bed.

  She stopped, staring. A robot.

  Companion grade, taller and thinner than Paula, with wide dark eyes and long dark hair tied back in a long ponytail. She had skin two or three shades darker than Paula’s, in that shading that could be any of a number of races. The fine dust of robotic makeup turned her eyelids into seascapes when she blinked. She would be beautiful dressed up, but at the moment she wore a basic working uniform and looked a little like a fancy maid.

  A shiver of anger ran through her.

  Aspen came up beside her and growled slightly.

  Coryn glanced at Adam. He didn’t even look guilty. But then, he had never met Paula.

  “She’s a top-flight security-bot. She’s going to be your trainer when I can’t participate. Julianna said you neither own her nor have to pay for her, but she hoped you’d see her as useful.”

  The robot stayed seated and extended a hand. “Hello. I’m Namina.”

  Who named these things? Coryn inclined her head but didn’t take the offered hand. Could she send the robot back with Adam? “Pleased to meet you.”

  Adam interrupted. “You two can talk in a minute. I’ve got to leave pretty quick. Namina can unload the robocart and send it back up here. To stay on schedule, you should start your sprints in half an hour, and I think you still need to eat. Namina can set out breakfast. I’ll show you the kitchen.”

  The kitchen turned out to be on the other side of the balcony, so the whole apartment was the big central room dominated by the glorious window, the one bedroom and bathroom on one side, and everything utilitarian on the other: kitchen, pantry, laundry room, printer, and a tiny storage
closet. The whole thing might be five hundred square feet. Maybe.

  Adam watched her carefully. “Do you like it?”

  “Did you have to pick green chairs?”

  “Do you like it?” he asked again.

  “Sure.” She didn’t really know, except for the window. She loved the window.

  “I left you food printer stock in the pantry, and the grocery drones are willing to land on the balcony. There are public spaces. Namina will show them to you after you finish your run. I liked living here.” The look on his face didn’t quite agree with his voice.

  He looked desperate for some form of approval, so she said, “I’ll be okay. Just go.”

  She felt grateful when he closed the door behind him. Damn him for being beautiful, for being an asshole, and for trading up to her room. Damn him for everything he was.

  ‡ ‡ ‡

  Coryn left for work with Aspen wriggling in her arms.

  Namina slid out of the door after her.

  “Stay home,” Coryn told her.

  Namina cocked her head disarmingly to the side. “My orders are to be your bodyguard.”

  Coryn sighed. “I don’t want to be followed.”

  “Then I’ll walk beside you.”

  She was going to be late. “Behind is fine.”

  Namina obeyed, the whisper of her footsteps a sound-shadow that grated on Coryn’s nerves.

  The wall image in her office showed scudding clouds and soaked land, a few swollen streams. She called Lou, relieved when she heard her voice. She began to write down the things Lou wanted, but Namina whispered, “I can record.”

  Coryn frowned but let the robot record.

  A piece of the biggest barn wall had fallen in and some of the beds had been damaged, and so the list was rather long. When they stopped talking, they’d said nothing of substance, only spoken of tactics and immediate needs. Coryn felt a bit put out after the connection closed, but nonetheless she watched Lou appear to skip from spot to spot on the farm as the sat shots refreshed.