by Lucas Flint
CHAPTER NINE
A day later, I walked through the streets of West Rumsfeld, following the directions that TW had given me that, according to him, would take me directly to the apartment of Jim ‘Techno’ Albert. I rarely ever went to West Rumsfeld. I mostly hung out in East and South Rumsfeld, where my house and my school were, respectively. West Rumsfeld was known for being slightly higher class than the rest of the city, meaning you had to have a lot of money if you wanted to rent or live in one of the various apartments or houses that dotted the place. Dad had built a few houses out here, but he told me that most West Rumsfeldians were not very good people and that most of them were rich, stuck up jerks.
I’d asked TW, before I left the house, if Jim was also a rich stuck up jerk, but TW told me that Jim was one of the poorer people in West Rumsfeld and that the only reason he lived here at all was because he had made some intelligent decisions in the stock market that allowed him to retire early. TW would not tell me how much money Jim had, exactly, mostly because TW himself did not know, but based on his comments, it sure sounded to me like Jim was a millionaire of some sort, which made TW’s comment about him being one of the ‘poorer’ people in West Rumsfeld rather questionable.
In any case, West Rumsfeld was definitely nicer than East Rumsfeld. The sidewalk I walked upon was so clean that it was practically shiny, while the lampposts that stood at regular intervals looked more like steel watchtowers than normal lampposts. The houses were all bigger and nicer than the ones back in my neighborhood, each one having its own fence and gate to protect its inhabitants from unwanted guests. Even the girls were hotter than the ones back in my neighborhood. I saw a couple of girls my age driving around in a really nice BMW and they looked more like college students than high school students, though sadly they didn’t pay me any attention as they zipped down the street past me.
It made me wish I had come here sooner, but I guess there wasn’t any way I was supposed to know that all of the hot girls were hiding here. Maybe one of them would make a better girlfriend than Debra, assuming any of these girls would be interested in dating a low class male like myself.
“How much farther do I have to walk until I get to Jim’s place, TW?” I said in my head as I walked.
“Not much farther now,” said TW. “Keep going and I’ll tell you when to stop.”
I hoped it was soon, because although I wore a light blue t-shirt and gym shorts, the sun was blazing hot today and I was looking forward to entering Jim’s undoubtedly air-conditioned apartment. I was sweating like crazy, forcing me to drink a lot of water from my water bottle. I thought this cold water bottle I took from the fridge would be enough to keep me hydrated, but I had underestimated how long I would have to walk from the bus station to Jim’s apartment and was starting to wish that I had chosen to lug an entire gallon of water with me, rather than just one bottle.
All of a sudden, TW said, “There it is, straight ahead.”
Raising my head, I saw a large apartment building coming up not too far ahead of me. It was about three or four stories, and looked even fancier than many of the houses I’d already walked past. It looked like it was made entirely out of glass, though I knew that it was just covered in windows and that the actual building was made out of more than just glass. Still, it was an impressive sight, one I would have stopped to admire if I had not been on an urgent mission.
“That’s it?” I said. “Looks awfully fancy.”
“According to the information I found, yes, that’s where he should be,” said TW. “I don’t know if he’s actually home or not, though when Gregory knew him, he wasn’t exactly much of a socialite and I doubt he’s become more extroverted over the years.”
I walked through the front door of the apartment building and found myself in a lavish foyer that looked more like the foyer of a bank than the foyer of an apartment building. I made my way up the stairs to the third floor, where Jim’s apartment was supposed to be. I didn’t take the elevator because it was already in use by the time I tried to use it and I was in such a hurry that I didn’t bother to wait for it to come back down. Besides, the air conditioning of the building’s foyer cooled me down a lot, so I didn’t find the flight of stairs that imposing to climb.
It wasn’t long before I found myself in front of the door to Apartment 217, which was also Jim’s residence according to TW’s research. I would not have known that if I hadn’t been looking, because the door was unmarked save for the numbers 217 etched in it in bright silver lettering.
“Here we are,” said TW. “Perhaps you should knock and see if he’s home.”
I nodded and knocked a couple of times on the door. I wasn’t sure what to expect. If Jim wasn’t home, I would have to come back some other time, but if he was home, then I would see if he would be willing to help me. I didn’t want to have to come back later, though, because that would mean going back out into the heat and that was the last thing I wanted to do.
All of a sudden, I heard a strangely monotone, almost robotic voice above me say, “State your name and business, kid, or go away.”
I started and looked up to see a camera above the door pointing down at me. I had not noticed the camera when I approached the door. As a matter of fact, I was pretty sure that there hadn’t been a camera there when I got here. Maybe it popped out of the wall or something.
“I’m Jack McDonald,” I said. “And I’m here to see James Albert. Are you him?”
“Maybe,” said the camera. “Why do you want to see him?”
Was Jim actually referring to himself in third person? Maybe he was crazier than I thought, but I did not say that aloud.
“I have something I need to show him,” I said. “A piece of tech that I think he can fix.”
“And what piece of technology would this be?” said the camera. “Do you have it with you?”
I looked up and down the hallway again, but it was devoid of people other than myself. Still, I didn’t think it would be exactly prudent to just state outright that I had the Trickshot Watch. That would be a good way to reveal my identity, especially if the walls were thin.
Looking up at the camera again, I said, “Yeah, but I can’t really show it to you. It’s kind of a secret.”
“A secret,” said the camera. Despite its monotone, the camera managed to sound skeptical anyway. “Jim can’t fix secrets.”
My face flushed, but I raised my watch and said, “This. It’s my watch. It’s … not broken, exactly, but it’s not working as well as it normally does and I think that Jim could get it back into proper shape.”
“Jim isn’t a watchmaker, kid,” said the camera. “Maybe you should find someone who is. He has more important things to do than fix watches.”
“But this isn’t an ordinary watch,” I said. “It’s special. Different. Jim has worked on it before.”
“How, exactly, is this watch of yours special or different from every other watch in the world?” said the camera. “It looks rather ordinary, not too different from any watch you can find in a department store. Let me guess, this is some kind of dumb prank, right?”
“Prank?” I repeated. “This isn’t a prank at all. I genuinely need it fixed and Jim is the only one who can do it.”
“Jim is not a watchmaker,” said the camera. “If you continue to insist on being let in, I will activate the apartment’s security systems and send a message to the police reporting a break in. Trust me, I will do it.”
I hesitated. I hadn’t expected Jim to value his privacy so much. And even worse, I could tell that the camera was entirely serious about this threat. I was tempted to just turn around and go home and forget all about this, but I held my ground and desperately thought of what I could say to convince Jim to let me in.
“Jim knew my grandfather,” I said. “Gregory Matthew McDonald. Does that name ring a bell?”
The camera was silent for a moment, which made me think that the camera might be calling the police after all, but it finally said, �
��Yes. Jim did know Gregory McDonald. You’re his grandson?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding eagerly. I raised my watch again. “And this watch—the Trickshot Watch—belonged to him. Jim knows what it is. And Jim, I know you’re listening in on this conversation, maybe even watching the security footage. Don’t try to play dumb. You know exactly what this watch is, whether you’ll admit it or not.”
The camera went silent again. I kept a confident posture, trying not to look afraid or worried. I wasn’t lying when I said I thought Jim was watching this entire situation. Maybe he himself wasn’t speaking through the camera—it seemed to be some kind of AI—but he was surely aware that I was here and that I wanted to see him.
The only question now was whether Jim would be smart and let me in or if he would follow through with his threat to call the police and force me to leave. I hoped for the former, but the latter seemed very likely to me.
Then the camera abruptly said, “All right. The door is unlocked. You can let yourself in. And make sure to close the door behind you so no one will overhear anything we’re about to talk about.”
Then the camera pulled back into the wall above the door, which closed shut. At the same time, I heard a small click as the door unlocked. I could not believe my luck, because I had been sure that Jim was just going to tell me to leave. Maybe Jim wasn’t as reclusive as I thought.
Shaking my head, I pulled the door open and entered, ready to meet Jim.
What I wasn’t ready for was the cyborg sitting in the chair on the other side of the door. And he was aiming a gun directly at my face.
CHAPTER TEN
Maybe it was a bit of a stretch to call the guy pointing the gun at me a ‘cyborg,’ but that was the initial thought I had when I saw him. His legs and right arm were completely mechanical, while his left eye had apparently been gouged out at some point and replaced with a glowing red optic that didn’t blink, unlike the normal blue eye in his right socket. The cyborg’s gun looked more like a laser blaster than a normal gun, but I had no doubt that if he pulled the trigger it would hurt a lot anyway, maybe even kill me outright.
The cyborg sat in a chair that looked like a command center of sorts. Two touch screens and a dozen buttons were on each arm, but I didn’t pay too much attention to my surroundings, because when a cyborg was pointing a laser gun in your face, it was kind of hard to pay attention to anything else.
“Close the door,” said the cyborg, whose voice sounded almost exactly the same as the camera’s voice. “Now. Before someone sees.”
I let go of the door, which closed entirely on its on with an audible and ominous boom that made me think I had just closed the door of a tomb. Given how this cyborg guy was pointing a gun in my face, this might very well be my resting place.
“Raise your hands,” the cyborg said. “Palms forward. No funny business.”
I raised my hands, showing him my palms. “I don’t have any weapons on me, Mr., uh, Robot.”
“Cyborg,” said the cyborg without hesitation. “I may not be as human as I once was, but I’m not a robot.”
“Cyborg,” I repeated. “Right. Are you Jim Albert?”
The cyborg’s facial expression did not change as he said, “Jim Albert. Been a long time since I used that name. I prefer Techno now, though I still use that name for tax and business purposes. The government doesn’t treat Techno as a real name for some reason.”
“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t, um, expect you would be a cyborg. I thought you would be an ordinary human.”
“It doesn’t matter what you thought,” said Techno. “You claim to be Gregory McDonald’s grandson. Furthermore, you claim that you have the Trickshot Watch. Those are both strong claims to make … and perhaps foolish, too, if they’re lies.”
“They’re both true,” I insisted. “I’m the grandson of Gregory McDonald. And I do have the Trickshot Watch, as well.”
“Which means you’re the new Trickshot that everyone has been talking about,” said Techno. “Correct?”
“Right,” I said, nodding. “I can prove it, too. Watch.”
I flipped the face of the Watch open and pressed the red button underneath. In seconds, I wore the full Trickshot costume and could feel the costume’s power flowing through my form, easily making me stronger than Techno.
Techno showed no surprise whatsoever at my transformation. He just nodded once and said, “I believe you. The Trickshot Watch’s ability to store the costume as a form of energy like that is unique. No other piece of tech can do that. At least, no earthly piece of tech, anyway.”
“Yeah,” I said. “So now that you know I’m telling the truth, maybe you should lower your gun. It would be a lot easier to talk if I didn’t have to worry about being shot in the face.”
Techno released his grip on his gun, which I realized was actually attached to his palm. The gun flipped backwards, folding over itself into his forearm, which opened and closed to let the gun inside. Soon, the gun was gone and Techno’s forearm looked normal again, or as normal as a cyborg’s arm could, anyway. “Feel safer now?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I do.”
“Well, you shouldn’t,” said Techno. His chair rotated on the spot, turning its back to me. “Because my gun isn’t the only way to defend myself if I have to. And it’s the least harmful, too.”
I looked around the apartment, partly out of paranoia, but I did not see any other guns or weapons that could be used to harm me. I did, however, see that this was no ordinary apartment. It looked more like a combination of apartment, laboratory, and workshop.
The floor, walls, and ceiling had been replaced with dull metal paneling that didn’t reflect the lights on the ceiling very well, though the light provided enough illumination by which to see. On one half of the apartment was a large desk with a variety of different test tubes and vials full of strange colored liquid scattered about, along with documents and books that seemed to cover really obscure scientific topics. The other half of the apartment was basically one long workbench, covered with tools and half-finished tech that I couldn’t even identify, either because it wasn’t completed or it was so different from anything I’d seen that I had no real reference point for it. There was a door on this side which seemed to lead to Techno’s bedroom, but I wondered if this guy even slept.
Directly before me was what appeared to be Techno’s control center. Two massive hard drives stood on either side of the desk, connected to three different monitors that displayed a bunch of strange numbers and letters that made no sense to me. It looked like he was programming something, but I couldn’t tell you what. Kyle might be able to make sense of Techno’s stuff, but to me, it looked like a bunch of gibberish. I bet even my math teacher would find it confusing, if not outright incomprehensible. The entire apartment smelled very sterile, like Techno had coated everything in antiseptic.
“You sure went quiet all of a sudden,” said Techno, though he didn’t look over his shoulder at me. “Forget why you’re here?”
I shook my head and said, “Sorry about that. The reason I came here was because I need your help.”
“Yeah, I know that,” said Techno. “What do you want me to look at, exactly?”
“The Trickshot Watch,” I said. “I need you to look at it and fix it.”
Techno’s chair turned around again, but Techno’s expression still hadn’t changed. “Fix it? It suited you up just fine. What needs to be fixed? Does it no longer tell time?”
“No,” I said. “It’s TW, the AI. He’s getting old and—”
“TW?” Techno repeated. He scowled, the first change in expression I’d seen since I entered his apartment. “Let me see him. Now.”
Before I could say anything, TW flashed into existence next to me, a grim expression on his face. “Hello, Techno. Long time, no see.”
“TW,” said Techno. As always, he was completely nonplussed. “You look just like Gregory. Any reason why?”
“Because that’s the form Jac
k is most comfortable with,” said TW. “I suppose I could take one more comfortable for you—”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” said Techno. “But it does make it harder to look at you. Gregory wasn’t eye candy back then and I see he’s still as ugly a son of a gun as he ever was.”
“You haven’t asked where he is, though,” I said. “Aren’t you curious to know what happened to my grandfather?”
“Nope,” said Techno, shaking his head. “Gregory was a jerk through and through. Like every superhero, he cared more about glory than doing the right thing. Rumsfeld was better off without him. And it would be better off without you playing superhero, too, kid.”
I flushed in embarrassment again. “I—”
“I need your help,” said TW. He gestured at his fuzzy body. “My programming is starting to degrade. Without your help, my entire existence is at risk of disappearing forever.”
“Good riddance,” said Techno indifferently. “I imagine you’re the one who put the idea to become a superhero in the kid’s brain, huh?”
“I didn’t put anything in his brain,” said TW. “I—”
“Whatever,” said Techno. His chair swiveled around again. “Bored now. Get out of here or I’ll disintegrate you with my lasers. And yes, that is legal in Texas. I checked with my lawyer before I had them installed and it is legal to disintegrate intruders on your property.”
TW looked at me with a look that said, I told you so, but me, I wasn’t ready to give up yet. Techno may have been rude and selfish, but I wasn’t about to let the only guy in Texas who could help us just turn us away.
“Listen, Techno, I know you and my grandfather didn’t get along that well, but I’m not Gregory,” I said. “I’m not interested in glory or whatever. I just need some help, to have TW fixed up so he can help me continue to defend Rumsfeld.”
“Why should I help?” said Techno. “Are you going to pay me? I charge a lot of money for repairing broken or damaged technology. Helps pay the bills, though I haven’t done it in a while because my money from the stock market makes me richer than the entire lower half of Rumsfeld’s poorest combined.”