Stasis (Book 1.1): Beta

by E. W. Osborne

  Neil perked up, wheeling back to grab his tablet. “This,” he said as he handed it to her.

  With a thoroughly unimpressed look on her face, she looked at the site, then back and him before pulling the blanket over her head. “You’re fucking with me.”

  “No, I’m serious. What is it? What’s it counting down to? I can’t find any company information and the domain name is totally sketch.”

  In a long, drawn out whine, Maggie groaned. “I don’t care.”

  Neil felt the pull of the counter once more, and discarded the tablet away from reach. “You’re grumpy because you don’t sleep and haven’t seen the sun in two weeks.”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny that the sun has even risen in two weeks,” she grumbled. “Besides, if I gave a shit about my tan, I’d be in California, not RIT.”

  Neil was starting to regret calling her over. “You gotta stop with those weird ass dreamscapes you find online. Plus, it might do you some good to get a little food.”

  “I barely had enough strength to come over here,” she groaned, side-stepping his first comment.

  “Or don’t. I don’t care. I’m not your mother.”

  “Mooooom,” Maggie whined playfully, thrusting her hand out. “I’m hungry.” Her mood shifted violently, as it tended to. She slammed the blanket back as she swung her feet to the floor. “You’re lucky, you know. I don’t have time to sit around online doing fuck all. I don’t have the luxury of switching my major five times with no consequence.”

  Neil really regretted knocking on that shared wall. She was one of his oldest and best friends, which meant she knew where all his exposed nerves hid. Unfortunately, empathy was never one of her strong suits. The cutting comment landed before she had a chance to retract it.

  “Not everyone is cut out to be a doctor,” he muttered, reaching for the tablet once more. He turned his back to her, careful not to let her see how much that had hurt. She knew him too well.

  “There no other information on there?” she asked, her voice softening. Neil considered ignoring her until she left but she pressed on, attempting to smooth things over. “Maybe it’s the beginning of your quest. You’re like the reluctant hero who gets told he’s destined to save the universe by fighting dragons,” Maggie laughed, rolling onto her back.

  “Really, Mags. Could you try to be a little nerdier? Your freak flag isn’t flying quite high enough,” he replied, delivering his own little jab.

  “They can see it from space,” she laughed.

  “One of the wonders of the modern world,” he replied with a sarcastic bite.

  She shrugged nonchalantly and headed for the door. “It does make you wonder, doesn’t it?” she pondered, lingering in the doorway. Neil tilted his chin up sharply, urging her to finish. “What happens when the counter hits zero?”

  San Francisco, CA

  May 7th

  With Penelope sound asleep inside, the car purred to a stop in their small driveway. There it sat for nearly half an hour without notice. By the time her husband glanced out the front window in passing, she was in the throes of a deep sleep.

  “Penny? Everything okay?” he asked as he rapped his knuckles against the window.

  Penelope jumped, disoriented and confused. It took her a moment to realize she was home, having programmed the car just before she collapsed in the seat. She smoothed her hair back and collected her bags as Joey open the door.

  “Yeah, sorry I scared you. I don’t really know what…” Penelope said.

  Joey adjusted Anna on his hip. Penelope knew that when he bit the inside of his cheek, he was on the edge of saying something he didn’t want to. He thrust out his free hand and grabbed one of the heavy bags from Penelope’s shoulder.

  “I kept dinner warm. I’m assuming you’re still hungry,” he said as he turned on the ball of his foot and strode back to the house.

  “Of course I am,” Penelope lied, following him inside.

  If she hadn’t fallen asleep in the car, she would’ve kept her promise to make it home before sundown. The small three-story houses in the neighborhood were alight, families settling in for the evening. Most people came home at reliable times, lived reliable lives. She swallowed a bubble of guilt and tried not to think about the myriad of ways she felt like she was failing.

  By the time Penelope shut the front door, Joey was already in the kitchen. He called out, irritation scratching his voice. “If you want, you can feed Anna her dinner while I set the table.”

  She knew it wasn’t a suggestion and although she were so tired she could barely keep her eyes open, she wanted to keep her promise.

  “I’d love to,” she replied as she entered the kitchen.

  Despite her doctor’s salary, they lived quite modestly all things considered. Although some would say living in a single-family house was the lap of luxury, it certainly didn’t feel like it in such an expensive city. Space was at a premium. She earned just enough Joey didn’t have to work and they didn’t have to live in a unit. Or worse yet, with his parents.

  It was the first night in two weeks that she had been home before 8 PM.

  “So how was your day?” she asked, barely suppressing a yawn. She slid a rubber bib over her daughter’s head while she fussed.

  Joey shrugged as he busied himself at the counter. “You know, usual day. We went to swim class this morning, she didn’t really nap this afternoon, I tried to do a little writing before starting dinner.”

  “That’s good,” Penelope said. She was half listening, thinking about the similarities between her daughter and the dozen catatonic psych patients back at the hospital. Even though she was learning and growing every day, her daughter was just a manifestation of instincts and reactions. Swallowing, suckling, grasping. These were all things she, and most every other person, was born knowing how to do. What could have caused so many people to snap and revert to the most basic responses?

  “It was, really. Anna learned how to blow bubbles in the water. I took some videos, I can show you after dinner. She has a doctor’s appointment on Thursday, remember? You said you’re going to try to make it,” he said.

  “I’d love to see them,” Penelope replied. She watched as her daughter accepted spoonful after spoonful of puréed vegetables. It’s the exact same response. Was it that they regressed to a childlike state? Did they forget how to do anything other than the most basic tasks? Was all that was left instincts?

  Joey set her glass of water on the table a little harder than necessary. With slitted eyes, he glared at her when she jerked back in surprise. “When I asked for you to join us for dinner one night this week, I was hoping you’d mentally be here as well as physically.”

  Penelope sighed. She was too tired to have the same argument yet again, not least of all because she knew he was right.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to be present, but is just these cases…”

  Joey returned to the table with two plates of food, taking his seat opposite. He stared at the surface of the table, scratching the stubble on his chin. He opened his mouth to say something and seemed to change his mind, his jaw clacking shut.

  “Do you want to talk it through with me?” he asked clearly not wanting the answer to be yes.

  “I don’t know that it would help,” Penelope replied, sensing his mood. She really did want to be with them, in all senses. But when she got involved in a case, she tended to lose herself. After ten years of marriage, she would’ve hoped Joey could understand that. “Thanks, though. Tell me more about Anna’s swim class.”

  The conversation flowed a little better, but Penelope kept pulling away, back to the files lurking on her tablet at work. She knew the answer had to lie in those files, or in the patients themselves, but she couldn’t see it. She hid any pauses in the conversation with chewing or taking a long drink, tricks Joey was wise to.

  Her husband sighed, bringing both his elbows to the table and holding his face in his hands. “It’s bad enough I don’t get t
o talk to any adults all day, but when I finally do, she doesn’t listen.”

  Penelope knew she was putting a major strain on the relationship, especially at a point when they were supposed to be repairing it.

  “I am listening.”

  Joey looked at her through his fingers. “I know you think you are.” After a few heartbeats, he pulled her knuckles to his lips and gave her a quick kiss. “Tell me what’s happening. I haven’t seen you like this in years.”

  Dancing around any confidentiality issues, she gave him a brief rundown of the bizarre flood of catatonic patients that had left every expert in the hospital stumped. Having seen the cases up close, Penelope felt strangely invested in finding an answer.

  “The does sound strange,” he said with a detachment Penelope envied. “You haven’t found any similarities between any of them?”

  “Nothing.” She wiped Anna’s face clean with a damp cloth. In her mind’s eye she could see them; upright, motionless, terrifyingly calm after such violent outbursts. That was something they all had in common. They’d all killed someone before going still. That was one detail she left out when telling Joey.

  Her husband took the cloth from her hand, gave her a sidelong look, and proceeded to clean up the baby with two deft wipes. Penelope realized she was only pushing the spilled food around the baby’s face.

  “Did you check the seeds?” Joey asked as he finished cleaning Anna.

  Penelope clenched her jaw to keep from snapping. “Of course we did.”

  “I’m just saying. Given your family business,” he said with emphasis, “I can see why you might be inclined to look past that.”

  Penelope didn’t take her judgment being questioned very well and struggled to keep her temper. She wondered if Joey wasn’t antagonizing her for sport. Whether deliberate or not, she tried not to rise to the bait.

  “I’m a doctor. I don’t look past things.”

  “You’re a human. You can make mistakes,” he replied, rounding on her challengingly.

  “But I don’t. That’s why I’m so good at my job,” she snapped back. “Besides, it’s not like I’m the only one stumped by this.” She bit her tongue fast enough to keep from spilling Cameron’s name. She’d gone five years without Joey finding out they were working under the same roof and she wasn’t ready to add that argument to the pile.

  “Sometimes I think you forget seeds exist since you don’t have one,” her husband replied with irritating calmness.

  Penelope licked her lower lip and matched his body language. “I don’t have a dick either, yet manage to remember when treating a male patient,” she replied with bite.

  Joey’s lip curled sardonically. “Dicks come up a lot in your psychological studies, do they?”

  “It’s all you men ever think or talk about,” she snorted with her nose in the air.

  The pair held each other’s gaze, the air practically crackling between them. She wasn’t sure who broke first, but before long they were grinning at each other, then laughing. Theirs was a relationship of challenges, external and internal, especially since the baby’s birth. Though it ran hot, they both enjoyed the temperature. Usually…

  A half-smile touched his eyes. “Why don’t we put Anna to bed early tonight?”

  “See? All you ever think about,” she smirked.

  New York City, NY

  May 9th

  Kristine McKay hadn’t posted a good story in weeks. If she didn’t get one soon, her viewership would start to tank and revenue stream dry up. Her livelihood relied on finding the stories the mainstream media was unwilling to touch. But unlike them, she had to hunt for it and freelance journalism was a fickle bitch.

  Even though she had spent most of the day on her feet, meeting with contacts all over the city, she decided to walk home. Every little saved helped in the long run. Plus, it gave her a chance to clear her mind before reaching the unit.

  I really don’t want to sell out, she thought. It’s bad enough I need to consider doing product placements. At least I still have some authenticity.

  Kristine prided herself in being one of the last completely unbiased reporters still publishing. It simply wasn’t profitable to deliver the facts as they were. The real money was in corporate journalism, something she had vowed to never go near. But the higher the bills stacked up, the less likely it seemed she’d be able to stick to her morals.

  With a heavy sigh, Kristine stepped out of the flow of foot traffic and found an empty bench at the edge of the park. She knew she’d be too tired to record a promo when she got home, so decided to do one now. Many of the functions on her cuff no longer worked but she couldn’t afford to get a new one. She unclipped the bracelet and held it at arms length. She fluffed her naturally curly hair, and wiped a smudge of makeup from underneath her eye. Kristine knew it was her looks that had gotten her attention, but it was her integrity that got her ahead.

  “Easy to have integrity when there are no stories,” she muttered before practicing her smile. “Hard to be principled when you’re hungry.”

  She pressed record. “Hey everyone, Kristine McKay here. I’m super busy working hard to get you the latest news. I can’t wait for you to see what I’m working on next. Remember to tune in for truth.”

  The fake smile dropped the second the recording ended. She reattached the bracelet and made sure it was uploaded before setting off for home.

  The unit she shared with her boyfriend Christopher was one of the first redesigns in the city. When the economy tanked and the city instated patriotic homeownership laws, few people were able to own entire townhouses. Although they looked the same from the outside, the interiors had been gutted and re-purposed for multifamily use. They were lucky to have found one with two other couples about their age and an older widow. No children, no party animals, just normal people trying to live normal lives. It meant they mostly kept to themselves and shared the communal spaces but didn’t intermingle. Many other units operated like small communities, spreading the common tasks of living between themselves.

  Kristine walked through the common rooms, waved to Mrs. Janis in the kitchen, and climbed the steep stairs in the back. She always felt an odd mixture of trepidation and relief when she reached their bedroom door. She loved living with Christopher, but just once, it’d be nice to come home to an empty place. In a city of millions, there was never a moment to herself. As she opened their door, she was already planning out her dreamscape for the night. A deserted island, neverending cocktails, and the sun.

  When she didn’t see him in the bedroom, she gave a shout. “Hello?”

  “Hey! I’m in the shower,” Christopher called back.

  “That’s a start,” she sighed to herself. She dropped her bag at the front door and kicked off her shoes. The room was a disaster zone. Piles of stuff covered every possible surface. Shaking her head, she picked through a lump of clothes on the sofa.

  “I did the laundry,” he yelled out, as if he could sense her growing disapproval through the wall.

  “Yeah, and then slept on it, apparently,” she muttered, plucking her favorite cream sweater from the flattened stack.

  Christopher switched off the shower, the hissing leaving a vacuum of sound filled by the traffic outside. “What’d you say?”

  “Nothing,” she sighed. She pushed the pile to the side, sat down, and started to fold. “Did you have a good day?”

  “Yeah, you know.” Fog rolled out as the bathroom door slid open. Although old and lacking modern soundproofing, the first repurposed buildings did have a few advantages. For one, they were created before it became more common for units to share bathrooms. They were lucky to have a private en-suite.

  Christopher walked out naked, toweling down his arms. He leaned over the sofa and planted a dripping kiss on Kristine’s head.

  “What if I was streaming?” she snorted.

  “Then I suppose your viewers would get a free show.” No matter how annoyed she got by his incredible lack of motivation
and momentum, he never ceased to amuse her.

  He circled the sofa and planted his ass on the smaller stack of clothes.

  “Come on,” she groaned, giving him a slap and pulling the clothes out from under him. “You don’t have to make it harder.” The arched eyebrow he shot her earned another slap. “Low hanging fruit, even for you,” she laughed.

  He grinned and stretched out, draping the damp towel across his body. Kristine continued to fold the laundry without his help.

  “How was your day? Get any leads?”

  Kristine shrugged with one shoulder. She tossed another folded shirt onto the table and tempered her tone. “Nothing solid yet, but something’ll come through soon enough. Did you get to the store?”

  “Naw. What about that thing you were gonna do on addictions? I thought that sounded good.”

  She gritted her teeth. At least he’s taking an interest, she told herself. “The scope was a little too big on that one. I’d have to break it down into specific addictions for it to work.”

  Christopher snatched a pair of boxers from her hand before she could fold them, slipping them on. “There’s definitely not a shortage of those.”

  Unable to stop herself, Kristine scratched at an emotional scab. “Right? Like, I could interview seed addicts,” she said casually, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

  “But hasn’t that been done before? Like, to death?”

  “Well sure, but never from the point of view of someone living with one.”

  Christopher raked his fingers through his clean but unkempt hair. “And where would you find that story?”

  Kristine snorted and slammed another shirt onto the table with the flat of her hand. “Gee.”

  “For the last time, I’m not a seed addict! I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”

  “If it’s not that, then what? What do you do all day if not that?”