“Well. I’m one up on you. I don’t have money, but I do have a place to live.”
“Where?” he asks, and my silence speaks volumes. “Oh.” He looks around at the room I’m in as if for the first time really registering where I am.
“I took Gene with me,” he says after another few seconds of silence. “On my laptop.”
I cock my head. “Like a copy?”
He shakes his head. “Gene can’t be copied. Just transferred. I have him now. He’s fully out of all the house systems, so there’s nothing left of him at home for Mom.”
“Then you were wrong when you said you have nothing. You have next generation AI at your beck and call. That’s going to end up being worth a lot more than your half of forty million. Maybe we should have just stolen Gene instead.”
It’s meant as a joke but once I say it, I realize it’s probably true. Man, I’m really really bad at this stuff.
“Pen,” he says slowly, and I know my small jabs have gotten through. “I didn’t sell you out.”
“Of course you did.”
“I didn’t.”
“Who else knew we were going after the Analytical Engine?” I ask. “You, me, and Gene. Did Gene send the spiders? It seems unlikely. And I know I certainly didn’t. So if I didn’t, and Gene didn’t, that pretty much leaves you.”
That’s only partially the truth, but Keir doesn’t know that. And I need to push him if I want to get close to the truth. Because, outside of Vegas, I had told James that I wanted to steal something worth forty million. And Lara-B might be smart enough to figure out what it is based on that fact and the location she dropped me off. So it’s possible they stole the Analytical Engine out from under me. But why? That’s the only part I can’t figure out. Was James getting back at me? Was it some attempt to help me? I can’t tell. They are unlikely candidates, but I still can’t afford to cross them off this very short list.
Those are the only two options I can figure—either Keir double-crossed me or James did.
“Maybe…maybe it was just a terrible coincidence,” Keir says, and the desperation to come up with a plausible answer was evident in his voice. “Maybe someone had—”
“—had planned a heist at the same moment we did?”
“Sure,” he says, though I don’t think he believes it. “We waited until Mom was over the Pacific. Maybe the other guy did too.”
“So it was a male?” I ask.
“What? Oh. I don’t know.”
“You said ‘guy.’”
“I know what I said. It’s just a word. For a person who…whatever. You know what I meant.” He’s stiff now.
There’s quiet again.
“Why did you come?” I ask. “To try to throw me off your trail? Or to ease your guilty conscience?”
“No! I…I came because I wanted to offer you a way out.”
“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice—”
“It’s true! I can get you out.”
“How?” I ask finally.
“Gene found a way to get you out of jail.”
“A jailbreak!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air. I have a nervous energy that isn’t going away. If the cell were any larger, I would pace. “That’s exactly what I need.”
“I don’t know how to say this in a way that will make you believe me. So I’m just going to say it. I like you, Pen. I know it’s been less than three days. But…I like you,” he repeats, flailing. “And I feel awful that you’re in there and I’m out here. You’re right, of course. Gene is worth a lot more than forty million dollars. I wish we’d thought of it when you unlocked him. So let’s use him! We can—I don’t know—go to Venezuela and lie on the beach and let Gene skim some money for us out of the stock market. Or Paris or Rome or wherever you want. We won’t have to worry about anything ever again.”
“Except the police finding me and arresting me again.”
“Don’t you think Gene can take care of that too?”
That’s probably true, come to think of it. Gene probably can break me out of jail and erase my tracks. Child’s play, for a computer as smart as he is. And no matter what happens with jobs and the economy, Keir and I will never have to worry about money again. Gene can always find more for us or get us something for free. It’s exactly what I’ve been working so hard for.
And all I have to do is spend the rest of my life with the guy who (maybe) betrayed me. But even that might be a price I’m willing to pay. If…
“Would you make me an administrator of Gene?” I ask.
The idea has clearly never occurred to him. His face contorts. I see revulsion more than surprise on his face. “What are you talking about?” he asks.
“If I go along with this, and I’m not an administrator, I’d be your…your kept woman.”
“What? No. No, you wouldn’t,” he says. “That’s not how I am.”
“Maybe not today,” I say. “But someday I’ll say ‘let’s go to Rome’ and you’ll say ‘No, Paris’ and you’ll win. Because you have the AI. Then another day, we’ll have a fight and I’ll worry about whether you are angry enough to leave me over it or turn me in. I’ll wonder if Gene can un-erase whatever he erased. And so you’ll win that fight too. And every fight after that.”
“It won’t work like that,” he insists.
“What you’re offering is the same as the leash your mom kept you on.”
“No!” he cries. I’ve touched a nerve with that but I need him to see.
“Then make me a shared administrator,” I insist. “Let Gene work for both of us. It’s the only way to have a level playing field.”
Keir stumbles. “I… But…what if you use him against me somehow? Because you think I betrayed you? What if this is your way of getting back at me?”
“I won’t.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“This is how we show that we can trust each other.”
“When I know I can trust you,” he says, “then we can share Gene.”
I shake my head at his attempt to spin what I’m asking for. “It’s got to be now. Otherwise, you’ll keep putting it off and putting it off if you don’t.”
He puts his hand on the glass. “I want this, Pen,” he pleads. “Please.”
We stare at each other again. And I truly do want to go with him. Despite everything, there’s a tug there. Maybe the kissing did its work on me, but I do like him.
“I can’t do it,” I say. I’m not sure where this comes from—this willingness to flat out reject him. And Gene. And the promise of a comfortable life. Even without the equal footing that I’m asking for, what he’s offering isn’t so terrible. No scrounging to eat. All the money we will ever need. Amazing adventures, even. Over the millennia, many women made that bargain. For good reasons. But I can’t make myself do it. I just can’t.
Keir’s jaw sets and he’s angry. It clouds his eyes. It’s plain to see that he hates that I made him say please, and hates even more that I am still rejecting him. I momentarily am appreciative of the glass between us, because his face is showing a violence in him that I never would have imagined. But then that expression passes and his face goes plastic-y like his mom’s. “Yeah, I can’t do it either,” he says. He’s pretending he’s disinterested. As if, on a lark, he had just invited me to spend a long weekend wine tasting in the Sonoma Valley but I told him I had other plans.
“I’m sorry, Keir,” I say.
His face clouds again. I think he hates the pity most of all. He storms out, leaving me stuck in the jail. I don’t know what he’s going to do with his rage, but I’m almost certain he wouldn’t have invited me on a world tour with him if he’d stolen the Analytical Engine out from under me.
Which leaves the improbable answer that somehow James and Lara-B did it.
Four hours later, I’m back in the same room. The walls are the same, the glass is the same. Through the glass, I can see the smudged handprint that Keir left. But it’s not Keir on the other sid
e. It’s James.
He’s looking nervous. As for myself, I see my reflection again in the glass but the stony and angry face I had for Keir isn’t there. Seeing my own expression makes me realize the truth. Despite everything, despite me wondering if he somehow stole the Analytical Engine, and despite all our fighting, I’m glad to see him. Though I don’t know if I can say it.
“I’m glad to see you,” he says.
(That makes it easier.) “Likewise,” I tell him.
“Even if you left me back there.”
I grimace. Is that why he stole the Analytical Engine? Or is it that he’s oblivious because he had nothing to do with it? James has an earnest quality that makes it hard to think he’s pulling the wool over my eyes. But how well do I really know him?
I can go around in circles on that all day. Instead I ask, “How did you find me?”
“Our friend Lara told me where you were,” he says. I notice he skips the B in Lara-B’s name. He looks around significantly and I instantly get what he means. Who knows if I’m being recorded in here? And why tip off anyone to a rogue AI semi?
“Our friend…she’s ok?” I ask.
He nods. “Laying low.”
“Big girl to be laying low,” I say. He shoots me a dirty look. I kind of half shrug and smile and he gives a quiet smile in reply.
“Has she been…busy over the last couple of days?” I ask.
He squints and tries to piece together what I’m actually asking. Did she help steal the Analytical Engine? I want to shout.
“Not really,” he finally says. An answer about as clear as my question was.
“Did you get…what you were looking for?” he asks.
“If I did, do you think I’d be in jail?”
He dips his head to the side, acknowledging that it was a dumb question.
“It wasn’t even close,” I add. Even though I briefly held it in my hands, I think that’s an accurate statement. “Did you get it?” I ask.
He looks up sharply. “What?”
“If you did…you know what, more power to you. That’s better than I did. Maybe you thought you were helping me. So I’m prepared to hear you out. But I’d like to know.”
“Pen,” he insists. “I don’t even know what it is you were trying to steal.”
“Lara might have been able to help you,” I say.
“Trust me, we’ve had other things occupying our minds.”
“Or maybe you turned me over to the Vegas police to save yourself,” I say. I say it as soon as the thought enters my head, more to myself than to him. “That would explain it, I guess. How you and Lara-B escaped. And they—”
“Pen!” He snaps me out of it and I realize I said Lara-B’s full name. “We didn’t do…anything to you. You’re the one who left. Whatever happened after you grew tired of me is on you. I didn’t have anything to do with it. And neither did Lara.”
I hang my head. It’s not just what he said and what he’s reminding me of that causes my reaction. Because it’s clear…his eyes…his body language…he’s not lying either. So if Keir isn’t lying and if James isn’t lying, then just who did steal the machine?
I push the question away and lift my head to meet James’s gaze. It’s my turn to put my hand on the window. “I’m sorry about what happened, James. And I’m sorry I couldn’t say it better then. If it helps…I’m done with all that. No more…” I’m about to say cheating casinos but even in my emotionally overwrought state, I remember that we aren’t alone. “…schemes,” I finish.
James stares me down. I don’t let myself look away like Keir withered under my gaze. “What do you want to do instead?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head. “I really don’t know. Maybe I just want to go home.”
He doesn’t even pause to think it through. He says, “We’ll take you.”
I nod. “Ok. But…it might be a while.” I look around the cell.
“I’ll wait.”
Seventeen
James and Lara-B don’t have to wait long.
A lawyer (a human lawyer!) comes into the jail for about five minutes and says he is the public defender assigned to my case. I’m pretty sure he’s drunk, but regardless, I’m appreciative to have anyone to talk to. I’m ready to tell him all my troubles when he announces that he’s pawning me off on an AI to finish my case.
“Then why’d you even bother to come?” I ask.
“Under California state law, an actual human being still has to represent you. I mean, technically speaking,” he says. “You’ll still be represented by an AI but as far as the court is concerned I’ll be supervising,” he says, putting “supervising” in air quotes. “They laid everyone off but me, basically—budget cuts, save money for the taxpayer, you know. So unless any of that changes, this is my job—going around to different jails and telling folks like you that a computer is going to represent you. I’m a messenger boy,” he says grandly and yes, definitely drunkenly. “A harbinger of things to come!”
“Things to come? Things are here, buddy,” I tell him as he leaves.
But it turns out my AI must be pretty good at his job. I get to leave the jail without setting a court date. The AI is fighting the charges on some process thing that I can’t quite figure. Even better, I’m still only wanted for the attempted burglary in California. The AI doesn’t mention anything about Vegas and I don’t ask. I suspect that if they could link me to that one, I wouldn’t be getting out of here.
“Can I go home?” I ask.
“Do you mean your father’s residence in Hartford, Connecticut?” the AI lawyer asks in response.
I do, but the AI’s question has got me thinking about my texts to my dad. Maybe it’s not my home anymore. Maybe my room is a home gym like he threatened. “Yes,” I finally say. “Hartford.”
The AI makes a big drama out of it, but eventually he says he’s going to let me cross state lines. Even a computer can lay it on thick if it wants to.
I get out of the prison and there’s no one to greet me. I decide to just start walking.
A half hour later, Lara-B pulls up alongside of me. She’s fixed the broken windshield somewhere and it looks like she’s even been washed. She looks like she did when I first met her on the freeway—shining chrome against the sparkling crimson cab.
The passenger door opens and James is in the cab, welcoming. Smiling. It’s that smile that creates and cements an unstated mutual agreement between us—this ride will be different.
“It’s good to see you again, Lara-B,” I say when I’m inside the cab. I lay a hand on her dash and give it a caress.
“You, too, Pen,” she says. There’s real warmth in her voice.
“Are the trucks from your dispatcher searching for you?” I ask.
“Taken care of,” she says, beaming.
“But how?” I ask in wonder. “You would have had to—”
“Don’t worry about it, Pen,” Lara-B says. “Just enjoy the drive.”
And so I do.
We get eighteen hours together between California and Connecticut, and in that time, James and I don’t talk about anything we’ve done in the last couple days. I so badly want to find out what happened with him and Lara-B. And I’m sure he just as badly wants to know about the heist and the forty million. But we don’t rehash what happened in Fremont or the casino. We don’t rehash the drones coming after us. We talk and we laugh and we doze and when we wake up, we talk again.
He tells me about his mom and his sister in St. Louis. I tell him about growing up in Connecticut, about my mom walking out when I was young, about my dad’s…well, I don’t want to just gripe—it’s like we’re on an eighteen-hour date—so instead I paint them as eccentric quirks instead of things that have grated on me for years.
As we talk, our legs and hands brush each other for the first few hours and then I stretch out, so now we’re both resting our legs up on the seat, and pretty soon we’re solidly comfortable with physical contact. I get bold and wiggle my
toes at him, coyly asking for a foot massage. I give him a shoulder massage afterward. The next time we nap, we agree that we should lie next to each other on the seat instead of each of us propped against a window.
We don’t kiss, even though I know we could. We could spend the whole ride making out and it would be wonderful. But what’s the rush? Because it feels like I have something I haven’t had in ages—time. There are a million and one things that I could be worried about but I just can’t muster the energy for them. I’m exhausted. So I just decide to enjoy it. And when I’m not busy looking ahead and planning my future, I find the present—especially moments like this—are pretty great too.
The ride ends as Lara-B pulls up to my childhood home. Well, she only gets within a half block of my home. Because all around my house are police cars. There’s at least ten. I’m about to tell Lara-B to step on it and get us out of here, but I realize that it’s all nonsense at this point.
I’m done.
I go to open the door but James catches my arm. “What if…”
But he doesn’t finish the thought.
“‘What if’ what?” I ask. “We’re supposed to lead them on a wild freeway chase or something where even more people get hurt? I’m just going to turn myself in.”
“Pen,” he whispers. “I don’t want you to go back to jail.”
“Even if I’m locked away for another ten years, I’ll be glad I got to have this ride home with you,” I say. I put my hand over his and we linger like that. Finally I say, “Lara-B, you slowly back up and get James out of here. Hopefully you can escape while they arrest me.”
I squeeze James’s hand while removing it from my arm. We don’t say anything else.
I get out of the cab of the truck and walk toward the officers who are milling about on the driveway in front of the house. I stand there.
No one moves. No one seems to notice me. “I’m here,” I say to the nearest officer.
He looks at me and grunts. “Yeah? And who are you supposed to be?”
“Pen Davis,” I say. I hold my arms out, ready to be taken into cuffs.
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