by Dave Swavely
After that call, I sat for a while in the chair thinking about how to coach the double about the main thing I wanted to accomplish, which was to use him for the purpose of ending the relationship with Tara—something I had failed to do myself, time and time again. I thought about how much to confide in the double, and decided to tell him what was going on because it might be too difficult to keep him in the dark and still accomplish my goal. And of all people he should be able to understand my dilemma, having contracted AIMS through his sexual adventures. But I also decided to wait until Monday morning to talk to him about it, so I didn’t waste the time and energy in case he was killed before then, and so there was less of a chance that he might share my secrets with Lynn or someone else.
Now that this plan was formulated and prepared, I felt a sense of relief from the tension I had experienced by the pool, and thought I was calm enough to catch some sleep to make up for the few hours I had the night before. So I climbed onto the bed and told Vera to wake me up at five, which she did after a fitful rest that included half-remembered dreams about the women in my life and a Chinese army surrounding the cottage. I could recall Saul Rabin showing up with an Alliant Trinity to fight them with me, but the rest was foggy.
Knowing that Angelee would be preparing dinner for us, I took a shower and made myself presentable. I really wasn’t thinking of doing anything with her that night—I had a Protection Team meeting scheduled for 10:00 P.M., after all. But I did find myself wanting to look nice for her sake. It reminded me of the early days with Lynn, and all my days with Tara. Probably for the same reason, I didn’t dive into any more work at this point, but stepped out of the room even though she hadn’t called me yet.
Sure enough, she had the table set and was finishing her prep in the kitchen, dressed in a pretty Asian garment that looked like a cross between a robe and a dress.
“Hi,” I said.
“It’s almost ready,” she responded, moving a little quicker around the kitchen.
“No hurry,” I said. “Where’s Chris?”
“He’s still sleeping, tired out from swimming. Would you like to get him up for dinner?”
I said okay, and went to her room. The boy was curled up on the bed, with the bedclothes swirled around him, but other than that the room was immaculate—obviously Angelee valued it and was keeping it in order. Except for a picture frame turned down on a piece of furniture … I turned it up to look at it and then put it back down, realizing why it was like that. I sat down on the edge of the bed next to Chris, and studied the sleeping boy. I had guessed that he was four years old before his mother confirmed it, because that was the age of my first daughter Lynette when she was killed, and most of my memories of her were at that age. And looking at this child, who was almost as cute as mine had been, I had a new appreciation of why Angelee would resort to selling herself in an attempt to keep him and provide for him: I would do almost anything to get my daughter back. I also was struck by how helpful it would be for him to have a father again, and felt a natural desire to help him myself. But though I could make sure they had enough money to live on—even Lynn would understand and approve of that—I couldn’t be a daddy to him. Lynn wouldn’t like having a sexy young thing like Angelee around our house much, that was for sure, and when Angelee found out that I was married, she probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me anyway.
I tapped the boy’s shoulder softly and watched as he stirred and fumbled at his sleepy eyes, like Lynette used to do. Then he climbed on to me like I was his father, and I carried him out to his mother. She comforted him until he was more awake, then sat him down at the table. Soon we were enjoying a terrific meal, with some Asian and American elements, in case I didn’t like the Asian parts.
“Is that a kimono?” I asked.
“Yes, kind of an American version.”
“Are you Japanese? I’m not an expert, but you don’t really look Japanese to me, and Lee’s not a Japanese name.”
“I am half Japanese and half Korean,” she said. “Not a good mix.”
“Why’s that?” I was thinking, You look like a good mix to me, but didn’t say it because I didn’t want to lead her on too much.
“Japanese and Koreans have hated each other for a long time,” she said. “There’s been some change these days, but when my parents got together it was taboo for most people.”
“So that made it hard for you?”
“It made it hard for my parents. They were already immigrants, and then they lost all support from their family or anyone from the Japanese or Korean communities. So they had trouble getting jobs, finding people they could trust, things like that. They were robbed a bunch of times, and unemployed a lot…”
“But they made you,” I said. “That was good.” And it occurred to me that this may have been the reason she was so noticeably attractive: she was a unique combination of races that didn’t often come together.
“Yes, but they didn’t stay together. I think the pressures got to them. So I ended up on my own, long story short. And on the street, until I met Peter.” Now I felt even more sorry for her, and for Chris, and we sat in silence for a while.
“Mommy,” the little boy spoke up, having finished gulping down his food, “can I go in the pool again?”
“I think you’ve had enough for one day,” she answered. “Why don’t you watch your movie over there?” She pointed to a plush couch in the living room, where the amp was sitting.
As I watched the boy with the outdated piece of equipment, an idea occurred to me.
“Has he ever seen his favorite movie in any other way?” I asked. “Like in a holo theater or net room?”
“We never went to the theater,” she said, and I wondered if this was a religious thing, or just a poor thing. Then again, it may have been both, because she added, “And we couldn’t afford a net room.”
I asked Vera if she could detect the boy’s amp wirelessly, and she said yes. I asked her if the file he was watching was compatible with her surround system, and she said yes again, except that it wouldn’t be the highest quality available.
“Cue it up, Vera, and have it ready for us to watch after dinner, in this room.” I turned to Angelee. “He’s gonna love this.”
I helped Angelee with the dishes—it was the least I could do—and thanked her repeatedly for the meal. Then we sat down to watch the movie, ending up on the couch next to each other, because although the system could accommodate different perspectives, it was optimal to all watch from the same basic location and direction. Angelee was on my left, and the boy on hers, perched on the front edge of the couch in anticipation.
I told Vera to play the holo, now with its resolution and other features set at their highest levels, and the boy was blown away from the opening scene. Because we were next to each other on the couch, the system didn’t block us from one another’s view, but treated us as one party. So anytime the scene and room around us weren’t pitch black, I could see his expressions to one degree or another, and saw his lips mouthing the word “Wow” over and over again at each new scene. And I could hear him say it when there was a lull in the music or other audio. But his eyes and face were saying “Wow” perpetually, as the scenes he had enjoyed so many times in the antiquated medium of the little pad were now displayed in their full glory in 360-degree 3D.
As Vera had warned, the resolution wasn’t nearly as high as the cutting edge holos I usually watched, nor were the production values of this apparently independent movie very impressive, but that didn’t diminish Chris’s excitement in the least. And that excitement was contagious, of course—I stayed to watch the movie, and Chris’s reactions, even though I had plenty of work that I could be doing.
The movie was the first of a three-part series called Pilgrim, and the opening credits said it was based on the complete original text of a book by John Bunyan. That name sounded vaguely familiar to me, which made sense when I could tell that the language was Elizabethan or close, and therefore or
iginated in my native country. It didn’t take long for me to tell that it was an allegory, from the name of the main character alone, which also gave me a clue to something else.
“Is Chris named after him?” I said to Angelee.
“Yes, his name is Christian,” she whispered back. “Her father loved this book, and didn’t even like for me to call him Chris. But like I said, I’m not as committed as he was. Now shhhhh.”
She obviously wanted me to see this, so I settled in and watched it with an open mind, as best I could. As I did, I alternated between confusion and comprehension, and experienced a variety of emotions, most of them negative.
My confusion was the most pronounced when we reached the part where Christian approached a cross on a hill and the burden on his back fell off—and some irritation flared in me as well. I wondered how something that happened over two thousand years before could actually help anyone in this modern world, and whether it ever really happened anyway. And the implication that we all have a “burden of sin” that only God can remove bothered me. I had experienced some kind of spiritual awakening a year prior when I had talked to Angelee’s husband, and prayed repeatedly for deliverance from death, but that had all faded into the background when my life returned to normal. And Lynn was liking me better since then, so I didn’t feel so in need of forgiveness anymore.
But in the darkness of that room with Angelee sitting next to me, I did feel a tension that weighed on me like a burden. And then when I shifted nervously in my seat and unintentionally brushed against her, she put her hand on my arm and leaned her head on my shoulder. And despite how much I loved Lynn and knew I shouldn’t hurt this innocent girl, that tension increased inside me.
I squinted my eyes shut, cursing myself for those thoughts and feelings, and when I did a seemingly random series of images entered my mind. But then I realized they weren’t random at all, considering the situation, because they contained a religious character and were from another holo I had watched right here in this room with my other extramarital problem. Tara had been in love with an old classic flat TV series called Firefly that had been doctored into a 360 version with the latest technology—that was where she got the name “Vera.” And in that series there was an episode where a “shepherd” warned a man not to take advantage of a naïve girl who was a lot like Angelee. If he did, the man was told, he would “burn in a special hell.”
I had felt a periodic sense of déjà vu since I arrived at the cottage, and this was probably the reason why. And the term “special hell” was now stuck in my mind, so I shifted in my seat again in an effort to stop Angelee from leaning on me. She got the message and sat back up in her former position, and stayed that way for the rest of the movie. My inner conflict didn’t go away, but it did help me to understand a later part of Chris’s movie better …
Christian found himself at the foot of a Hill of Difficulty, which neither of his companions were willing to climb. But he said,
This hill, though high, I covet to ascend,
The difficulty will not me offend.
For I perceive the way of life lies here:
Come pluck up, Heart, let’s neither faint nor fear;
Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.
I wished that I could have the kind of resolve that character did, to stay on the straight and narrow. And because I didn’t, I did have to admit to feeling some of that guilt that had been on the back of the pilgrim. But I didn’t understand until much later how the other hill could solve that problem. I did, however, do the right thing after the movie that night, and told Angelee that I had a net meeting to attend, and would see her and Chris in the morning.
25
DREAMS
“Okay, mates,” Terrey said, “let’s hop to it, as we say down under.”
The Protection Team was gathered in our living room, I assumed because its windows were now fully secured, and Lynn refused to travel down into the base below for the meeting. She disliked the fact that there was a huge facility hidden underneath her beloved homestead, and liked to pretend that it didn’t exist.
I was watching the meeting through the two-way netroom equipment, and because it was state-of-the-art, I could switch between four perspectives and zoom in on individuals whenever I wanted to. I was currently having a closer look at the cupbearer named Tyra, who had painted multicolored decorations on her floating wheelchair, which had formerly been all black. I assumed she had gotten permission from Terrey to do that, and that she had used the removable paint that was all the rage lately, but I was a bit taken aback that she would use so many colors in the situation we were currently facing. Like Terrey wearing black, however, I supposed that if she was a traitor among us, she wouldn’t broadcast it so blatantly.
While I was checking out clothing and colors, I noticed that Korcz was not wearing black, perhaps because Terrey had pointed out that he was the day before? Terrey himself was wearing it again, though.
But Terrey was starting the meeting, so I forgot about the probably pointless clothes issue and listened to him. I drew back my view so I could see everyone in the room. Besides Terrey, Tyra, and Korcz, there was Lynn, Min, the triplets, the double, and finally Stephenson, who looked rather nervous about something (Was he sweating?).
“We’ve made it through our second day,” Terrey said. “Which is a good start. But we’ve got a long way to go.”
“At least you hope so,” Lynn chimed in, rubbing her big belly. “Since you’re getting a million dollars a day.” She smiled at this, but only a little.
“And many expenses to pay from that, as you’ll remember, marm.” He gestured around the room. “Like paying these fine people. So let’s talk about what they’ve been doing. The triplets have upgraded the already stellar security measures to prevent or prepare for any threat. No one can get anywhere near this place unless we want them to, and the only one we do is the food truck, which we’ll meet at the gate down below. The air defenses on the hills around here are quite sufficient to protect from any local air attack that might ensue, and we don’t have to worry about a long-range jet. The Chinese would never send one into our airspace, because that would be an act of war with no deniability, and we’re protected by NORAD anyway.
“Car accidents are a favorite method of political assassinations, because they appear random and intent is deniable, but we don’t have to worry about that because we knew ahead of time and can keep you off the roads. And when we do need to go somewhere, such as the little trip we have planned to the city, we can use the aeros. Very convenient … I like to think that there will be some very frustrated mercenaries driving around the Bay Area this week, waiting for a car ride that will never happen.
“This whole hill has been scanned so well that the only way a bomb could have been placed and remain is if it was made of something no human has ever encountered before, and if that’s the case, we have bigger problems than the Chinese. And the whole hill is being continually scanned by the sensors we’ve installed, so no explosive or gas or poison could be introduced. But just in case, Tyra has been testing all the food and water, and thankfully she’s still okay … except for her leg.” He gestured toward the plump lady. “I like what you’ve done with your chair. Those colors could help offset the ban lan of the enemy … I’ll get to that more at the end of this meeting.
“But back to the measures we’ve already taken, the Trois and their faithful assistants”—he now gestured to Korcz and Stephenson—“have electronically and physically examined every possible sniper location up to three thousand meters. That’s two hundred meters beyond the current range of any rifle in the world, and even beyond any possible upgrade we don’t know about yet, because none of the last ten upgrades, over the last twenty years, have exceeded ten meters.”
“That’s a little too much math for me,” I said through the netroom, so they all could hear me. “What’s the bottom line?”
&nbs
p; “The bottom line is that it’s Buckley’s—no way in the world—that a sniper could hit anyone in this house. I am very confident that you could sit on any of the porches, or even hang by the pool, without any fear of being shot. In fact, I’m thinking we should set up a photo op so the media could show the double and Lynn somewhere outside the house.”
“I thought you were keeping Lynn and the double separate from one another, so it would be safer for her, if he becomes endangered.”
“We are keeping them separate,” Terrey said. “Jon is staying below in the base. But just like he needs to be seen in public sometimes, he and Lynn should occasionally be seen together, to head off any suspicion or attention drawn to an obvious change in your patterns. Of course, as you know, I’d much rather be keeping Lynn in an entirely separate place, because the rest of us have to be here, at the most secure location. But she wouldn’t leave.”
“If and when I’m going to die—” Lynn started.
“I know,” Terrey finished. “You’d like to die in your house.”
“Speaking of the trip to the city,” the double spoke up. “How will we avoid a sniper during that?” All this talk of dying must have reminded him that his life was on the line more than anyone’s.
“That was on my agenda,” Terrey said, “so let’s talk about it now. Once again the gods of personal protection have been smiling on us. You will enter one of the aeros in the hangar bay of this mountain base, fly in it to the castle in the city, exit the car inside the bay there, conduct your business inside one of the most secure buildings in the world, and then come back the same way. You will not be at risk. However, just in case something bizarre happens, like the aero goes down or someone infiltrates the castle, we have an extra safety measure for you.”
One of the triplets stepped toward the double and handed him a piece of equipment about the size of her hand.