Perception

by Lee Strauss

  “I don’t know what to think.”

  “Listen, Zoe. I can’t tell you what happened to Liam, but I do know one thing for sure. He wasn’t selling drugs.”

  I can’t tell you what happened to Liam...

  “Why can’t you tell me, Jackson? What happened to Liam?”

  He pinched his eyes together, and when he opened them again, he stared hard at me. “I don’t know what happened to Liam.”

  Why couldn’t I believe him?

  Chapter 10

  Noah was filling in for Saundra, and he didn’t hear me as I approached the kitchen. I watched as he cleared abandoned breakfast dishes for two off a table that could seat twelve. Our kitchen was at least three times bigger than his, with large, energy efficient appliances outfitted with smart-glass surfaces. The refrigerator’s built-in computer automatically updated used or outdated items, awaiting instructions as to whether they should be reordered from the local grocery super-store. An internet window imbedded in the glass streamed a news channel while another window flashed photos.

  Noah stopped what he was doing to watch the pictures of me and Liam as they flipped up.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He jerked backwards and lifted his chin with a quick nod. “Hi.”

  A dirty coffee cup was in his hand, and he stood frozen to the spot. Yesterday, I had been on his turf; now he was on mine. I couldn’t say we were friends, but our time together had turned into something friendly. His eyes drifted to the dirty mug and back to me and he tugged self-consciously on his white serving blazer.

  “This is awkward,” I finally said.

  “You look different,” he said back.

  Of course I looked different; I wasn’t wearing a wig or eye altering contacts.

  “It must be really weird for you to see me like this again.”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I hope you can get used to it.” I entered the kitchen, and opened a dishwasher. “I’ll help.”

  “No, that’s all right. It’s my job.”

  “It’s our mess.” I smiled at him, in part to try to set him at ease, and in part because I found his discomfiture amusing.

  “I don’t think Liam was dealing drugs,” I said as I removed clean plates and placed them into the cupboard.

  “It was just a theory,” Noah said, loosening up enough to get back to work.

  “And I appreciate it. Believe me, getting information hasn’t been easy. I’m thankful for anything.”

  Noah filled a second industrial sized dishwasher with dirty pots. “Why are you so sure my theory is wrong?”

  “Because Jackson told me, and I believe him.”

  “Who’s Jackson?”

  “My boyfriend.”

  That stopped him. Once again he paused, holding a dirty dish mid air.

  “You thought I made that part up?”

  I remembered how I’d said my boyfriend knew where I was when I’d felt trapped in the food court. That was before I knew what kind of person Noah was.

  “No, of course you’d have a boyfriend.” He turned on a tap to dampen a cloth.

  “He’s a scientist.”

  “So?”

  “Well, science is....”

  “Is what?” He turned off the tap and stared at me.

  “Science is the key to, well, everything.”

  Noah rolled his eyes. “Science isn’t the key to everything.”

  Did he really just say that? “I think it is.”

  “Well, then,” he said, holding my gaze. “You’re wrong.”

  “I’m wrong?”

  “Do you think you’re never wrong?”

  I placed cutlery into the appropriate drawer. “Do you think you’re never wrong?”

  “I didn’t say what I believed was the answer to everything, you did.”

  “Scientific knowledge is trustworthy,” I began, “unlike other near obsolete belief systems that depend on superstition and emotion.”

  “You don’t even know what I believe. How can you claim it’s nearly obsolete? And I adamantly deny that I’m superstitious or emotional.”

  We both reached for the dishcloth he had left on the counter, and Noah’s fingers brushed over mine. A jolt of electricity ran up my arm, a completely unexpected response on my part. I slowly moved my hand away, letting him have it.

  “I’m not talking about you specifically,” I said regaining my composure. “It’s just obvious the world’s a better place with scientists in control. Look at what we’ve done with managing energy and water resources.”

  “Oh my, God. You really believe the world is a better place? Wow. What a nice little bubble you live in here. GAPs have solved their energy and water problems, but they’re yet to be solved globally.”

  “Maybe, but there’s been good progress. You must admit that without science, the world would be worse off. In fact, it may not even exist.”

  I closed the dishwasher door. Noah slowly wiped down the counter top.

  “I’m not opposed to science,” he said. “It’s not like I don’t believe it’s there, or that it’s important. I just don’t make a religion out of it. There are other forces at work, too.”

  “Like what?”

  He took a long breath. “Like faith.”

  I had a broom in my hand, and paused mid-sweep. “There’s a reason ninety-five percent of the churches in North America are closed down, you know.”

  “Just because people aren’t meeting in churches doesn’t mean they’ve given up on faith.”

  I swept a small pile of dirt into a slit in the floor under the counter that sucked the dirt away. “So much harm has been brought into the world in the name of religion,” I said. “I just think we’re better off without it.”

  Noah placed a hand on the broom, his fingers inches above mine. We exchanged a look before I let go. He smiled and moved to the other side of the island.

  “Actually,” he said after a couple of sweeps, “more violence has been afflicted on mankind in the name of science. Think of all the wars since the first World War, of all the scientific research that went into finding new and improved methods of killing other human beings.”

  He turned to look at me. “The atomic bomb, for instance. Agent orange. Ethnic cleansing.”

  I stared back, unflinching. “Science is still the greatest benefit to mankind and its only hope for survival. Science is measurable and verifiable.”

  “Not everything can be measured and verified.”

  “Science has yet to fill in all the holes but we’re closer to doing that now than we’ve ever been.” I ran fingers through my hair. “I believe we’ll have all the answers we’re looking for in my lifetime.”

  “You just said you believed in something. That’s the language of faith. I have faith in God and you have faith in science, but we both need faith. The ability to have faith in something is just another way that humans differ from animals. Or machines.”

  I remembered the picture I found online of Noah’s father standing in front of his church. I figured Noah heard a lot of sermons growing up. I couldn’t fault him for his misplace beliefs.

  “I just don’t think ‘faith’ is the right word,” I said.

  “I think it’s the perfect word.”

  I wiped my hands on the back of my shorts. “Then I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.” I grinned as I left. “See you later, Noah.”

  Chapter 11

  We hadn’t eaten dinner together as a family since Liam went missing, and tonight was no different. Jackson hadn’t come over since Liam disappeared, not even once, which was odd. But I chalked it up to him being worried about Liam and about not wanting to have to deal with Alison. I understood how he could feel awkward around our family right now. I took leftovers to her room, and when I’d finished I plopped myself on my bed.

  And thought of Noah Brody.

  I probably shouldn’t have hung out with him in the kitchen earlier. It wasn’t that I didn’t like talking to him
; he was intelligent and I enjoyed his company. And for whatever reason, he seemed to be extra good-looking today. Attractive even.

  It was just that he was so intense. He had crazy ideas and believed them strongly.

  Plus, he was still an anti-GAP guy. Which meant he was anti me. Despite that accidental touch and the way his eyes had bored into mine.

  The fact remained that his help had gotten me nowhere when it came to finding Liam, and who knew, maybe the whole drug thing was just a red herring to get me off the real trail.

  Really, what did I actually know about Noah Brody? What made me think he could be trusted?

  And why was I still thinking about him? I had to get back to my search for Liam. I instructed the internet TV in my room to turn on and scoured the news stories looking for anything that might hint to Liam’s whereabouts.

  The Midwest and southern states were once again experiencing drought, the aquifers that used to provide water were long since drained. Fires burned in Arizona, floods devastated large portions of China, and civil unrest brewed in sub-Saharan Africa. My 3D TV brought all the destruction right into my bedroom.

  Noah was right about one thing: the world was in a bigger mess than I’d like to believe. I commanded the TV to turn off, and in the sudden quiet, I heard a low noise. Moaning?

  The anguished cry came from down the hall. It sounded like Alison.

  A burst of fear exploded in my chest. I sprinted down the tile hallway, skidding into my parent’s vast bedroom. Alison was curled into a ball on the bed, and Paul had his arm around her back, his face blanched whiter than the walls.

  I didn’t need to ask what happened. I knew. Liam was dead.

  “They found his body in LA,” Paul said, staring blankly. “It looks like foul play.”

  I back stepped wordlessly, feeling my way along the wall to my room. I was breathless, my world spinning. My ears roared with the pulse of my heart like they’d been stuffed with cotton. Suddenly, I felt sick. I grabbed my trash can, lifting it to my face in time for me to dry heave.

  Liam was dead. He wouldn’t be coming home. Ever.

  I crawled onto my bed, curling up like an infant. A moan from deep within me escaped my lips. No more Liam. No more big brother. No more me and Liam versus our parents. Tears exploded like a volcanic rush, urgent and violent, soaking my pillow as I tried to muffle my sobs.

  Twilight disappeared into a blackening sky, and my sadness morphed into something else, something sharper. Anger. Fury. Who had stolen my brother from me? I wouldn’t rest until I found out and got pay back.

  I blew my nose again and added the tissue to the growing pile. I envied my parents who had each other to mourn with. I wasn’t part of that circle, but I needed someone, too.

  I tapped my ring and spoke out Jackson’s name, but turned it off before it could connect. I tapped it again, and before I could think it through or change my mind, I heard myself say, “Noah Brody.”

  Chapter 12

  A warm evening breeze rustled through the towering palms, and dried fronds floated to the ground by my feet. I wasn’t sure if he’d come, but he hadn’t hesitated when I asked. I hoped he wouldn’t be sorry he came when I’d told him what I wanted from him.

  I felt strangely comforted when I spotted Noah on the other side of the gate. My arms were wrapped tightly around my chest, but I managed a slight wave in his direction. He nodded acknowledging that he saw me.

  Noah handed the guard his ID, the ID that permitted him access to Sol City in order to come clean up after my family.

  The guard casually glanced at the card, then flicked it back across the counter. “Not authorized.”

  “I’m domestic staff for the Vanderveen household,” Noah explained.

  “Sorry. I haven’t received notice of authorization from Mr. or Mrs. Vanderveen.”

  “I’m authorizing him.” I thrust my palm toward the scanner.

  The guard shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Vanderveen. It’s after 9 p.m.”

  “So what!” I narrowed my eyes at him, challenging. “He works for my family. He has ID. I’m authorizing him.”

  The guard stood his ground. “Again, I’m sorry. But you’re still under eighteen. He can’t pass. It’s the rules.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll leave then.”

  I cursed under my breath, hating how humiliating this was for Noah. And for me. I passed through the gates under the disapproving glare of the guard and headed toward the downtown core like I was in a speed-walking race. Noah fell into pace beside me, edging forward to make space for me as we pressed through the crowds.

  “Sorry about that,” I muttered.

  “Sure.”

  We continued on in silence. He was probably waiting for me to talk since I’d called him. But, now that I was on the outside with him, I didn’t know what to say.

  When I spotted the Sky Transit Station, I knew my next move. “Let’s get on.”

  “Where do you want to go?” Noah asked.

  “Anywhere.”

  Noah picked the line that did a large circle above the downtown core. The sky train wasn’t as packed as the transit pod had been the day before, so we both had our own forward facing seat with enough space between us that we weren’t touching.

  The sky train hummed as it moved effortlessly above the streets of LA, the evening lights dimmed or turned off in most office buildings to preserve energy.

  One exception was the Sleiman Tower in Sol City. The eighty story structure could be seen clearly from LA and exceptionally from our higher position in the sky train. The shape of the tower was constantly changing as each floor rotated separately from the others, an engineering accomplishment powered by solar panels and wind turbines located between each floor. Sometimes it resembled an hourglass, sometimes an elegant vase. Now it looked like a twisted ribbon.

  “Liam was only twenty-one,” I murmured. “He could’ve lived to be more than two hundred.”

  Noah’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  The sky train came to a stop at one of the many stations high above the ground. Passengers used either the escalator or the elevator to get to it. Other stations were at ground level, so the journey felt like riding a large, lazy roller coaster. A tired-looking Latino woman with two little boys in tow boarded. Behind them, two teen guys dressed in leather and chains. One ground a cigarette on the floor with his boot. Two girls boarded just before the door closed, holding hands and laughing. They sat across from us, and started kissing.

  Above the buzz of light chatter an electronic announcement named the next stop.

  “So, I have to ask.” Noah fidgeted, turning slightly to face me “Why are you here in LA with me, instead of in Sol City with your boyfriend?”

  I stared at the haze of lights out the window. “I think Jackson is hiding something from me.”

  “But you said earlier that you believed him, that he told you everything.”

  “I wanted to believe him.”

  “Okay. So what do you want from me?”

  I worked my lips before facing him. “Liam’s body was found in LA. You’re from here. You know people.”

  Noah flicked his hand. “So?”

  “So, I’m hoping you’ll help me. I want to find out what Liam was doing in LA. I want to find his killer.”

  “Isn’t that a job for the authorities?”

  I let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m not sure I can trust them either.”

  Noah scratched his head. “I mean this in the nicest way, but you’re sounding kind of paranoid.”

  I felt my eyes tear up and couldn’t stop myself from pleading. “Maybe. Maybe not. But will you help me? I can pay you.”

  The lights of a seedier district in LA streamed passed the window in a blur that cleared as the train came to a stop. A street walker boarded—too much make-up, too much perfume, too much skin. She flashed a fake smile at Noah, motioning for him to join her as she took the seat opposite. He shook his head slightly, an
d turned his body to face me.

  “You’re saying you’ll pay me to help you find out what happened to your brother?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just to be clear. A business deal? With me?”

  I was more certain now than ever. I needed Noah’s help. And a part of me, a part I was choosing to ignore right now, wanted an excuse to hang out with him again.

  “Yes.”

  Noah leaned back and tapped his fingers on his legs. I thought for a moment he was going to say no, and I wouldn’t have blamed him.

  But then he said, “Okay. I’ll have to talk to one of my guys. If I’m going to be able to help you, I’ll need his co-operation. Can you meet me tomorrow morning at the church?”

  A felt the flood of relief hit me, and I leaned my head against the window, closing my eyes.

  “I can’t promise you we’ll find anything useful,” Noah said.

  “I know,” I said softly. “I just need you to try.”

  Chapter 13

  I’d hardly slept, and I wasn’t the only one. When I found Paul the next morning, he was just waking from a half-sitting, half-reclining position on the sofa. His shaggy hair was unwashed and crisp with salt from the ocean, and his skin was grey from lack of sleep. He looked hung-over.

  “Dad?”

  “Oh, good morning, Zoe.”

  “I wouldn’t call it good.”

  Paul’s eyes seemed to focus like he realized he was in a bad dream, not waking from one. “Yeah, right.”

  I headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make coffee.”

  The machine spit out each of our preferred coffee styles–espresso with one sugar for Paul and a sweetened latte for me–in less than half a minute. I carried them back to the grand room, setting the espresso on the glass table in front of him and taking a seat in the matching chair.

  “How’s Mom?”

  “I had a prescription shipped over last night—tranquilizers. They’ll wear off soon.”

  I took a tentative sip, savoring how the coffee burnt the back of my throat.

  “Have you heard anything new?”