Memory Blank

by John Stith

  The hurt in her eyes was terrible. It twisted Cal’s weakened stomach into knots.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said hurriedly, aware that he had bungled the job. “But it’s nothing big. I just need to run an errand.”

  “Tell me about it,” she said, far too calmly.

  “I’ll tell you about it as soon as I get back.” If only he could write her a note, so the listener couldn’t tell what was happening. But he could be watching, too. Even if he wasn’t, a delay would make him suspicious.

  “I want to know about it now.” Nikki’s voice rose. “You’ve talked all week about open communications. I’ve had a lot of second thoughts about leaving. But you’re driving me away right now. Please tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can’t,” Cal said softly. Saying the words was like cutting off his hand. But if he didn’t convince the listener, he and Nikki would be dead. He knew that, but he still couldn’t figure out why. “Please trust me.” It sounded lame even as he said it.

  Nikki looked at him, speechless for an agonizing moment. Then the pain in her eyes turned to anger, and she clenched her fists. “Trust you? Trust you, Cal? I’ll never trust you again.”

  Cal moved toward her, but she backed away, palms toward him.

  Without another word she turned and left.

  The door slid shut behind her, sealing her off from him. Cal felt like vomiting, the emotional pain was so much like physical pain. He stood mute.

  The hospital room was utterly silent. Devastated, Cal sat down tiredly on the bed. For a moment he tried to concentrate on Vincent and the message, supposedly from Jam, to force Nikki out of his thoughts. It didn’t work.

  The damage had already been done. Nikki would never come back to him now. So why did his memory persist in dragging up old scenes? Why did it keep returning to one time when she had surprised him at work.

  He had gone into work a little early to catch up. After he had been there for perhaps an hour, Tom had come down to tell him he was late for a meeting in the main conference room.

  Cal hurried down there, wondering what it was he had forgotten. When he arrived, he found that there was only one person there before him. Nikki. With her was a bottle of wine and a picnic lunch. She had already talked to Tom and arranged a vacation day for Cal.

  Cal hadn’t even gone back to his office. He and Nikki just left the building and went to a park.

  “Damn.” Cal forced away the memory, suddenly conscious of the irony of now not wanting a memory back.

  “Are you talking to me?” asked Vincent.

  “No. I was just frustrated. I wanted to tell Nikki I was meeting with Jones and for her not to worry. But I can’t. This had better be damn important.” Cal had to act in front of Vincent, too.

  He wondered how deeply Vincent was immersed in this subterfuge. For all Cal knew, Vincent could have been obeying someone else’s orders ever since Cal bought him. At the other end of the scale, it was conceivable that Vincent didn’t even know what was going on. There could be some other program running in the same computer, unknown to Vincent’s program. That second program could be doing anything from just transmitting audio all the way to altering Vincent’s memories and forcing him to say particular things.

  The proposition that Vincent had been spying on him ever since Cal bought him was too much to accept. Somehow Vincent had to have been tampered with since then. And that meant the most likely possibility was that the tampering had been done five nights ago, the night Domingo died.

  That night must have been an awfully busy eight hours. Domingo died. Cal’s memory was blanked. And Vincent was altered to report Cal’s activities to someone.

  That someone could still be Tolbor. All of Tolbor’s conversations about how good a job Cal had done, and how Tolbor wished Cal was coming on Vittoria, could have been staged. If Tolbor had known all about Cal’s activities, he certainly would have known about the transmitters Cal and Michelle had planted.

  In fact, if it really were Tolbor who was listening in, he probably could barely manage not to laugh out loud during his phony conversations. The listener could be being listened to. And Tolbor’s computer knowledge was probably ample to load a second program into Vincent’s memory, one that ran without Vincent’s knowledge.

  Cal himself might have had the same capability, and the information required to correct the situation, maybe even alter it so Vincent would transmit Cal’s phony conversations, but not now. Not with so many of his memories still unavailable. His only hope was somehow to use his wits to give him an advantage.

  He should have an advantage already, suspecting the tampering, but he saw no way to use the knowledge. How can you trick someone who knows everything you do? You can’t just call someone and say, “Oh, be sure to let the dog out,” hoping they’ll realize something’s wrong. Not when the listener knows there is no dog and can hear the friend call back to ask, “What’s happened?”

  Cal stood up shakily. “I’d better get going if I want to be on time.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” asked Vincent.

  Cal hoped that Vincent had been tampered with. He wouldn’t like to think that Vincent had been designed to cooperate with the listener all along. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

  The door opened at his request, and Cal paused for a moment, deciding which way to go. Nikki was nowhere in sight. To the right a short corridor led to the outside. Cal almost started in that direction, but he remembered his last visit to the clinic.

  He turned left.

  Another turn at the end of the corridor took him toward the nurse’s station. He felt progressively more steady as he walked, but he deliberately kept moving slowly. At first he was afraid there was no nurse on duty, but then he saw the man’s head.

  As he’d hoped, the nurse, a pudgy young man with blond hair, spoke to him as he neared. “Mr. Donley, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “That’s right.” Cal approached the counter shakily.

  “What are you doing up so soon?”

  “I’m leaving.” Cal started to pull away.

  “But Dr. Bartum hasn’t authorized your release yet.”

  “He’s not my keeper.”

  “I know that, sir. But either Dr. Bartum signs your release, or I need you to sign a waiver of responsibility.”

  Finally. Cal moved still closer to the counter, his hands at his sides.

  The nurse pushed a clipboard and a pen on a chain up to the countertop.

  Cal picked up the pen and began to write, keeping his eyes fixed on the seated man. “What do you mean, ‘release’?” Cal asked. “You mean that if I fall down outside and kill myself that Dr. Bartum can’t be sued?”

  “It’s just a safety precaution, Mr. Donley. The clinic wants its patients to know when they’re doing something not recommended by the doctor.”

  “For all I know, Dr. Bartum approves, but he just hasn’t told you.” Cal kept writing.

  “I can’t justify the policy for you right now, sir. Please just sign the form.”

  “Okay. Okay. Right here where it says, ‘Patient acknowledgment’?”

  “Yes, sir.” The nurse had obviously decided this was a lot of fuss for a simple signature.

  Cal finished writing and left the clipboard on the counter. The nurse made no move to retrieve it.

  Outside, the mid-afternoon sun wasn’t enough to keep Cal from feeling chilled. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his recent injuries or his state of mind. If he still had the gun, maybe that would have made him feel better.

  He could always go buy another. But, if the listener were real, he could see exactly what the new gun cost and how much charging current it drew. He’d probably also wonder why Cal was buying another gun right then.

  “Vincent,” he said, making his way along the route to the tubeway. “The name of the lab where I’m meeting Jones sounds familiar. Have I been there before?”

  “Not that I know of. You could have been there before you asked me to
start keeping more information. But if you’d gone there this week, I’d have lots and lots of pictures.”

  “So it’s getting more crowded in there?”

  “It’s so crowded in here I’m having to reuse all the electrons.”

  “Right,” said Cal dryly.

  “I’ll bet you think I’m kidding.”

  “How about if you put yourself to use. At this walking speed, am I going to arrive at the tubeway in time for the next car?”

  Vincent was silent for a moment, perhaps determining Cal’s speed. “Nope. You’ll miss it by about fifteen seconds.”

  “How about at this speed?” Cal asked. His ribs began to hurt more.

  “You should have about twenty seconds to spare. This is all theoretical, of course. Since the stops aren’t consistent, I’m assuming a typical frequency.”

  “That’s fine, Vincent. I can’t expect you to be right all the time.”

  “Now wait a minute. That’s not what I said.”

  “Okay. Okay. You’re as right as you can possibly be.”

  “I’ll let that pass.”

  Cal arrived at the tubeway with less of a margin than he wanted. He had to run a few steps to make it. Light-headed and breathing heavily, he found an empty seat. The car started up the hill.

  Cal glanced around at his fellow travelers. The car was almost full. Just like Vincent was almost full. The idea of a few people getting off at the next stop began to occupy his thoughts for no apparent reason. He puzzled over it for a moment before he realized the significance of the thought.

  Cal actually smiled faintly. At least he had another possible line of defense, if it turned out that Tolbor or someone other than Mike Jones was waiting for him in the lab.

  The feeling didn’t last long, however. Nikki was back on his mind as the car stopped at the south pole, and Cal drifted into the corridor leading through the spin axis.

  Before long he was in the rotating disk, and then on the same level as the lab the message had mentioned. He was two minutes early.

  The corridor outside the lab looked like almost all the other corridors in the disk. But the lab door brought back the first feeling of déjà vu.

  The sign on the door said D8: Linewold Testing Laboratory in large blue letters. The door was unlocked.

  The room inside was enormous. Five long, parallel, double-sided lab benches ran almost the whole length of the room. Large doors stood at either end of the lab.

  Cal took a second glance at one of the two doors. For an instant he could have sworn he saw Gabriel Domingo in front of it. Then he realized what had happened. Some fragment of his memory was telling him that he had seen Domingo here. Maybe the night he was killed.

  Cal walked closer to the door, hearing dim echoes of his footfalls. The door looked as if it were pressure-tight, maybe the entrance to an environmental chamber. A large gasket showed around the edge, and a big wheeled lock held the door shut.

  “Telegram,” said Vincent, and Cal jumped.

  “You startled me,” Cal said, surprised at how apprehensive he felt here. His nervousness had to be caused by more than just the possibility of confronting the listener.

  “You want me to clear my throat first?” Vincent asked.

  “No. What is it?”

  “Michelle.”

  “Put her on.”

  “There’s no hope of salvaging the recording,” she said. “But I found out a few more tidbits on Tolbor. If there’s anyone else you want me to check on, let me know.”

  “I don’t have the vaguest idea anymore of who we should be looking for,” Cal said for the benefit of the listener, if there was one. “But why don’t you give me what you’ve got anyway.”

  “Okay. He’s paid up his apartment here on Daedalus for another month after he leaves. Evidently he’s letting a nephew use it temporarily, but I haven’t checked on the nephew.”

  As Michelle talked, Cal realized that, if Michelle paid attention to the background, she might be able to give the police a clue to his location if he were reported missing. If Nikki noticed. Trying to avoid any overt actions, he slowly moved Vincent to where there was a clearer view of the lab itself. “Anything else?”

  “One item that seems a little unusual. Tolbor rented a fair amount of industrial equipment for a friend about a year ago. Vacuum pumps, waldoes, power supplies, sterilizing gear, large motors and winches, solar panels, and a bunch of miscellaneous small items. The friend was apparently going to build a prototype for a new solar panel design.”

  “What’s unusual about that?”

  “Maybe nothing. I was just surprised that his friend didn’t rent it himself.”

  “Okay. It doesn’t seem so insidious to me. Anything else?”

  “There’s a public going away party for him tonight.”

  “Maybe I’ll go,” said Cal.

  “Are you all right?” Michelle asked suddenly.

  “Sure,” Cal lied. “Fine. Why?”

  “No reason.” Michelle hesitated for just an instant. “I’ll see you later.”

  Michelle switched off. Cal hoped she had noticed his surroundings, but imagined that they were much like lots of other labs.

  A noise caught Cal’s attention. It could have been his imagination, or it could have been someone moving at the far end of the room. Cal began to walk quietly toward the source of the sound.

  The benches he passed were thick with dust. The floors were cleaner. Behind him Cal could see no outlined footprints. His heart began to beat more loudly.

  He couldn’t identify much of the equipment. A few electronic measurement devices were the only familiar instruments. The sound didn’t recur.

  Overcome by a burst of uneasiness, Cal suddenly stooped low to see if he could see anyone’s legs below the line of lab benches. He could see none, but the view was cut off in several directions. There couldn’t have been a concealed group with him in the room, but there could be a single man. Or woman.

  Cal reached the far end of the lab without encountering anyone. The door on this end was metallic, but not as sturdy as the other door. It was solid in a different way, not as though it had to withstand high pressure.

  Cal stared at the door, wondering what was on the other side, when he heard another sound. This time the sound was definitely from the other side of the door.

  Cal hesitated. If the listener were on the other side, Cal wasn’t at all sure he wanted to open the door. But if he didn’t, he would never know, and whoever it was would be free to do as he chose.

  Cal twisted the wheel on the door. It moved freely, spinning to the end of its travel. He pulled, and the door swung easily outward. Inside was darkness.

  Cal was about to close the door again when a light in the distance came on. It was a small light, directed toward Cal.

  An instant later a figure moved partway into the path of the light, and stood silhouetted against it.

  “Come on in and close the door, Cal,” said the figure. The voice was male and familiar seeming, but echoes distorted the voice beyond easy recognition.

  “Mike?” Cal asked tentatively.

  “That’s right. It’s Mike Jones. Come on in. I need to talk to you.”

  Cal stood transfixed. The possibility that this was legitimate was all but nonexistent, but he still didn’t know the truth. He made a concerted effort to slow his breathing.

  Cal took a step up into the room and closed the door. To his right was another door set in the wall, an interior wall of the chamber he was in.

  “Cal—” began Vincent.

  “Not now.” Cal had to hear the voice again. He took a few more steps into the gloom.

  “It’s important,” Vincent said.

  Cal took a few more steps, considering. “Okay. What is it?”

  “I’m shielded. This room is cutting off my transmitter and receiver from the outside.”

  Cal stopped.

  “Please come ahead, Cal,” the voice said pleasantly. “I really must insist.” Th
e figure put its arm into the pool of light.

  The hand gripped a gun.

  Cal still hesitated.

  “Your wristcomp is fond of old expressions,” said the figure. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘Easy as shooting fish in a barrel?’”

  “No. But I suppose I see your meaning.” Cal resumed walking forward.

  The figure said nothing more until Cal had traveled almost halfway. “I think that’s far enough.”

  “Far enough for what?” Cal asked. He didn’t like the way the man had said it. He wondered, too, if his ears were playing tricks on him. The man’s voice had not sounded as though it were still straight ahead this time.

  “Please stay there, Cal.” The man’s voice was slightly clearer than before.

  Cal halted. He might not have recognized the voice by now if he hadn’t already been suspicious. “What do you want from me, Russ?”

  Russ Tolbor said nothing for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was utterly calm. “I want from you more than you’re going to want to give. I’m greatly disappointed in you, Cal. I’ve never seen someone so talented give it all up to go to work for the man.”

  “‘Go to work for the man’?” Cal asked. He knew what Tolbor meant, but he couldn’t understand why he said it.

  “The devil takes whoever he can get. I bet he was quite delighted to find you.”

  “Russ, you’re just not talking sense. I may not go to church regularly, but that’s—”

  “Silence!” Tolbor had turned on a death-and-destruction preacher’s voice Cal never knew he had. Tolbor’s religious state was more severe than Cal had realized.

  “Why did you want me here?” asked Cal.

  “I had to stop your interference.”

  “My interference with what?”

  “With God’s plan, of course. It really will do you no good at all to pretend, Cal.” Tolbor’s voice was calm again.

  Cal didn’t know what to say.

  Into the lengthening silence Tolbor said quietly, “I’m sorry to have to leave you here to die, Cal.”

  “What do you mean?” Cal asked apprehensively.

  “You’ll know in a day or two.”

  At the same moment Tolbor spoke, Cal felt a cool breeze on his neck. At first he thought his fear was responsible for the chill. Then he realized suddenly that it was simply a ventilation fan.