Guardian

by Matthew S. Cox

  Silver residence towers glinted and flashed in an unending electric light show. She spent a moment mesmerized by it before trudging to the bathroom. “Window, dim full.”

  The amber-hued panes shaded to black, blotting out the city. She planted herself on the toilet and held up a white cylinder that resembled a stimpak autoinjector with an extra square bit about the size of an e-mag at the top. It projected a small holographic screen when she pushed the only button.

  “Thank you for purchasing the RediMed home pregnancy test,” said a female voice. “Step 1 – sync the test with your NetMini. This enables the nanobots to provide the most accurate results. Step 2 – after syncing, apply the autoinjector to any point on your abdomen or thighs you feel comfortable with.” The three-inch square holo-panel played a demonstration animation. “Step 3 – Collect a urine sample with the lower end of the test device, on the provided pad. Step 4 – Approximately five minutes after injecting, the nanobots will transmit the results to the test unit, which you can access via your NetMini. Good luck!”

  Kirsten held the white object up like a dagger about to be plunged into her heart, and stared a challenge at it. “Okay, listen up. You are going to make me a very happy girl right now… well in five minutes, right?”

  It didn’t react.

  She exhaled, pulled the sweatshirt up to expose thigh, and hesitated. “Crap. Gotta sync it first.”

  Three seconds after holding the test unit up to her NetMini, both devices beeped. The NetMini opened a new app, which displayed a loading progress bar of a cartoon baby running on a treadmill. When it finished, the image changed to a status monitor showing a good signal strength next to a female outline with a yellow question mark in the womb.

  Kirsten pulled up her sweatshirt again and held the device to her skin.

  “Mom?” yelled Evan, probably from the door between her bedroom and hallway. “I made popcorn.”

  “Few minutes, hon.” Kirsten pressed the autoinjector down. A brief flicker of pain preceded a cool numbness spreading under the skin. “Almost finished.”

  “‘Kay.”

  She looked around to make sure Theodore wasn’t peeking out from behind any walls, and tried to hit the little half-inch test square to collect a sample. Once finished, she leaned forward. Elbows on knees, she clutched the test unit with both hands, glaring at it. Her mind raced around what she’d do if it made her nightmare come true. She could have the developing embryo removed and grown in a medical tank, and adopt it away without ever laying eyes on the baby. Kirsten bit her lip. Despite the father being him, or even worse, one of his employees, some part of her couldn’t readily accept giving the child up… half would still be her.

  “Argh.” She bowed her head, forehead to plastic. “Please tell me he didn’t do that to me.”

  “You okay Mom? Sounds like you’re goin’ to war in there.”

  Kirsten’s cheeks burned. “I-I’m almost done.”

  “You need me to get anything? Extra TP? A stimpak? Father Villera?”

  She laughed. “Thanks… I’m okay.”

  His voice faded from shouting to an almost whisper at the bathroom door. “I don’t think you need to be scared.”

  Does he know? Clairvoyant… She bit her lip, stood, flushed, and washed up. After sealing a sanitary cap over the bottom half of the test kit, she carried it with her NetMini and left the bathroom. Evan was nowhere in sight. She padded down the corridor, finding his room empty, but located the boy on the sofa. He grinned as she walked in. As soon as she sat next to him, he leaned into her, using her shoulder as a headrest. She left the NetMini and test on the cushion to her right, and put an arm over him.

  “You’ve been acting weird for two days.” He looked up at her. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

  Kirsten kissed the top of his head and hugged him tight.

  He raised a hand, pointing at the ceiling. “Play!”

  Monwyn the Liberator, a new series, appeared on the 150-inch holo-panel. The show was set between the first and second movies, with a primary storyline revolving around the titular mage’s initial meeting with Asara the Huntress. The story detailed how he’d become allies with her and assisted in the war that freed the Wild Elves from their servitude to the Shadow King. Kirsten had some doubts about how they could stretch something like that out to 138 episodes, but… Evan adored Monwyn, so she was going to find out.

  The NetMini chimed. Kirsten glanced out of the corner of her eye at it and swiped a finger over the sensor. Its holo-panel scrolled into existence a few inches above the device, glowing violet. At seeing a negative result, her heart resumed beating. Not two seconds after she hit ‘ok’ to close the app, thirty-seven different mini-panels opened in a tremendous bloom of light. Most offered medical assistance with conceiving, some adoption services, and two showed ads for counseling―in case the negative result was too stressful.

  She swiped her hand at the mess of floating micro-screens, scattering the intangible tiles apart. Images faded to blank amber squares, and they winked out of existence. Evan looked over with a sorrowful look that made Kirsten terrified he’d worry she wanted to replace him.

  “I’m… It’s…”

  He reached up and hugged her around the neck. “You only kissed Sam, and that doesn’t make babies. I’m glad that demon guy didn’t give you one.”

  Kirsten’s composure faltered, and she found herself sniffling into his hair.

  The NetMini emitted the modulating ring of an official call. She held on to him like a teddy bear, unwilling to let go long enough to answer. When it started ringing again, she’d gathered herself enough to pick up.

  Captain Eze’s hologram head faded in. “I hope this isn’t a bad time. We’ve had an emergency call in.”

  She whined. “What happened?”

  “We received a contact from the security team at the NewsNet office tower in Sector 1740. They are reporting unusual activity on the thermal scans, and one claim of an object moving.”

  “That doesn’t sound like an emergency.” Kirsten frowned.

  “Does the name Robert Lamb sound familiar?” asked Captain Eze.

  “Poor guy. Nope.” She shook her head.

  Captain Eze chuckled. “He’s the assistant program director for Earth.”

  “Assistant?” She scrunched up her face.

  “That means he does all the work and gets none of the credit.” Captain Eze’s hands entered the hologram as he held them up. “It’s coming from higher up. Likely take you longer to get there than it will to resolve.”

  Kirsten grumbled.

  “It’s okay, Mom.” He gestured at the screen. “It’ll pause till you get back. Nothing bad happened for a couple weeks, sometimes you gotta work late.”

  “On my way, Captain.”

  Evan wiggled his toes for a second. He looked disappointed, but smiled when she made eye contact. She felt horrible for leaving, despite not having a choice. Maybe she could go Admin and get normal hours… but they didn’t have anyone else to deal with spirits. She called Nila on her way to the bedroom.

  “Hey. How long?” asked Nila.

  Kirsten laughed. “Am I that predictable?”

  “They are.” Nila’s hologram-face smiled.

  “I dunno, probably not long. This sounds like a case of a guy with an inflated sense of self-importance hearing a bump in the dark. Probably a half hour. Or so. Thanks.”

  “Anytime. He’s too good to be true, ya know. Tell me he’s got his bratty moments when no one’s watching?”

  Kirsten closed her bedroom door and tossed the NetMini to the Comforgel pad so she could change into her uniform. “Not yet. Maybe I should be worried. Maybe it means he doesn’t feel secure enough to let his guard down.” She exhaled.

  “Or maybe you got astoundingly lucky and he really is a perfect angel.” Nila shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”

  An ear-piercing shriek came over the vid call from the background.

  “Dare I ask?”


  “Shani’s throwing a fit because some character in her game can’t wear some dress.” Nila cringed as another shrill wail shattered the silence behind her.

  “Maybe Ev will distract her.” Kirsten stepped into her boots. “I’ll be right down.”

  “‘Kay. See ya.” Nila winked and hung up.

  Evan met her in the hallway, still in his pajamas, but he’d put shoes on. “Do I need a sleepover bag?”

  “Nah, this should be quick.”

  He tilted his head forward, staring past his eyebrows at her. “Never say that.”

  She held his hand on the walk from the 41st floor to the 39th, and Nila’s apartment. After giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, Kirsten jogged back to the elevator and headed to the roof parking deck. By the time she reached the patrol craft, her mood had darkened almost as black as its armor plating.

  “There’d better be something there for me to smack around.”

  She hopped in and brought the car online.

  Dorian faded in as she lifted off, and yawned. “What’s up?”

  “Some asshat from the NewsNet got spooked enough to pull strings.” She wrenched the sticks, launching them up and over the civilian hover lane at the fiftieth story. At about the eightieth, she opened up to 385 miles per hour, switched on the roof lights and activated the audible warning, a transmitter that forced any other car within about a quarter mile to simulate a siren with its sound system. Glowing traffic signals and advert holograms on the corners of high-rise towers formed a flashing zebra-stripe tunnel in bright bands, interspersed with the occasional smear of color from an advert bot.

  Dorian stiffened, still seeming nervous with her driving at such speed. “Something bad’s going to happen to the first person to say the wrong thing.”

  “I’ve been wound up the past couple days over Konstantin.”

  His look of apprehension relaxed to one of sympathy. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “Couldn’t take it anymore. Bought a test today.” She looked at him for a second before returning her attention to the front. “Negative.”

  “That’s good.” Dorian made a series of contemplative faces. “Nicole might’ve been right about that. It seems likely he was manipulating you by being exactly what you’d been dreaming about.”

  “He was so not my type.” She slowed to a mere 290 to pull a left turn, rolling the patrol craft up on its side. For three seconds, she had a great view straight down out of the driver’s side window. “The ‘I’m so rich my money has money’ thing was the exact wrong way to appeal to me.”

  “Well… he did have that much cash. I wonder how old he really was.” Dorian tapped his chin.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You don’t think?”

  “All it takes is money, Kirsten. No magic needed. Genetic surgery. It’s not cheap, but that wasn’t a problem for Mr. Wrong.”

  “Ugh.” Kirsten cringed. “Bad enough I think him seventy… if he’s seven hundred?”

  “Well… the oldest he could’ve possibly been is closer to two hundred. The technology didn’t exist back then. Seven hundred years ago, they barely had flintlocks.”

  “You know what I meant.” She craned her neck as the distant shimmering glow of the waypoint appeared from behind an approaching building. One good thing about having digital displays instead of transparent windows―getting lost was quite difficult.

  The tall, rotating diamond came into view past the corner of the metallic green bulk of a ComTec International office tower. Every time she saw their goofy advert bot logo, she wanted to punch someone. More to the point, she wanted to find the guy who yelled at her for ‘damaging’ a bot after she jumped off a building to avoid getting blown up. The navigation crystal shrank from the apparent size of a fifteen-story building, resulting in a baseball-sized star shining at the dead center of the NewsNet complex.

  Kirsten headed for the parking deck, the structure obvious from the air, and poked the windshield twice as if clicking the building on a touchscreen monitor. She shut off the bar lights and the audible warning system before landing in a parking spot close to the door.

  The upper half of a late-twenties man with dark hair and light brown skin appeared in a panel at the center of the windscreen, wearing a light-grey NewsNet Security jumpsuit. “Evening, Officer. Is there a problem?”

  “Oh shit,” muttered Dorian, overacting a lean away from the imminent explosion.

  The control sticks creaked under her grip. “Agent Wren, Division 0. We received a report about some unexplained events? Is there a guy named Lamb here?”

  “Oh! Yes.” The man’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ll meet you at the door.”

  “Now that is perhaps the happiest anyone’s ever been to meet you.” Dorian raised an eyebrow. “That makes me wonder what we’re walking into.”

  “I told Evan it wouldn’t take long.” She hung her head. “Dammit.”

  With a grunt, she shoved the door up and open. A stiff, chilly breeze whipped her hair back, reminding her she’d forgotten her usual clip. The patrol craft door sank closed on its own with a faint hiss when she’d gone fifteen paces from it. Ignoring the out of control hair scattered around her shoulders, she stomped toward a rectangular area that brought six elevators to the roof. The second from the left opened, held by the same man from the call. A dark armored vest covered his jumpsuit over the torso. His belt supported a large ballistic handgun, several spare magazines, and a bevy of small compartments.

  “Agent Wren.” He offered a handshake. “I’m Curtis Parker, NewsNet security. Night shift supervisor.”

  She accepted his greeting and stepped in to the elevator. “What can you tell me about the situation?”

  The doors closed with a pneumatic squeak.

  “Well… Lamb’s been contacting us on and off for the past few hours. He thought someone was in the fish tank, and this late at night, everything’s managed remote by WAHs.”

  Kirsten’s eyebrows came together. “Fish tank?”

  “Sorry.” Curtis smiled. “There’s a cluster of offices at the center of the 77th floor with frosted glass walls. Looks like a giant fish tank, so that’s what people here call it. Anyway, with ops under the eye of the work-at-homes for the night, the area should’ve been empty.”

  Kirsten nodded.

  Curtis glanced at the datapad he’d had tucked under his arm. “Mr. Lamb placed fourteen SRs between the… sorry, security requests, hours of 7 p.m. and 9:10. He insisted someone was walking around. At first, he thought Lewis or Martinez were trying to prank him, but his attempt to ‘catch’ them failed. He was pretty sure no one could’ve possibly run from where he’d seen them to the elevators before he could spot them, but he still felt watched.”

  “Well, I suppose that could be caused by working ridiculous hours.” Kirsten made a passing attempt to get her hair in order. This guy isn’t looking at me like I’m going to kill him. She let some of her anger at being disturbed go. “Anything else? What made you call us?”

  Ping. The elevator doors glided apart without a sound. Above the exit, a neon green hologram of the number ‘77’ flickered. A dark room riddled with thousands of tiny light dots spread out before the elevator: a cube farm. Wires descended from the drop ceiling to desks here and there, glossy insulation glinting. At the center, an open space of about twenty yards surrounded a rectangular box of blue frosted glass that glowed from lights inside. Silver nameplates, too far away to read from the elevator, appeared as dark spots near doors.

  She surveyed the area, sweeping her gaze from the desks at her left, around the outer wall over the cubicles, to the right. The shadowed space around the outskirts of the room tugged at her consciousness with unease. A year ago, it might’ve unnerved her, but after getting up close with the energy around Charazu’s ritual circle, it felt trivial.

  Curtis held up the datapad and tapped it. “Well―”

  Kirsten put a hand on his shoulder to stall him. “Wait. I fee
l something.”

  His expression lit up. “Really?”

  Dorian walked off to the right, whistling. “Think you’ve got your first fan.”

  Focused on the far left corner, she disregarded his topic grenade. She advanced across a clearing in front of the elevator and followed a channel between the ring of cubicles to the clear area around the Fish Tank. The sense of a paranormal presence intensified as she entered the region where castoff light from the glass illuminated the grey-blue carpet. A trail led her to the second door on the left side, marked with the name Robert Lamb. She glanced at the dark corner near a red EXIT sign indicating a fire escape. Not until she looked back at the nameplate did a human-head shape in the shadow register in her mind.

  Kirsten whipped around to stare at the spot where she’d thought she’d seen a man, and stared at a patch of pale wall, tinted pink in the castoff light from the exit sign.

  “Is it still here?” Curtis walked around her on the left side, closer to the corner.

  I did see that… didn’t I? She glared at the wall for a second more before facing Curtis. “If he is, he’s not on this floor right now. What was it you were going to show me?”

  “Clear,” said Dorian, rounding the far corner of the Fish Tank.

  Kirsten held a ‘one moment’ finger up to Curtis and looked at Dorian. “Can you check up and down a couple floors? I thought I saw something in the corner.”

  “Sure.” Dorian sank through the carpet.

  “Wow… that wasn’t your comm was it?” Curtis’s eyebrows ticked up a notch.