The Perfect

by Greg Juhn

  I sat back, trying to stay calm. It wasn’t working.

  Dro leaned forward. “We don’t want to kill you. You have no real role in any of this, other than to step aside so you don’t get your face shot off.”

  I shook my head. “Why in God’s name does Herod’s care so much about this? You got your money back. I thought we had put the matter to rest.”

  Dro said, “We aren’t from the casino.”

  “But–"

  They smiled. Chi said, “The casino’s software flags suspicious win patterns. They knew something was up. Whenever anyone has an edge, they call us in. Usually, it’s nothing too exciting, just some guy with a hidden lens and a fancy card-counting program. At first, we couldn’t figure out how you two were beating the system. After we went over the videos, it was obvious. You gave it away. We had hit the motherlode.”

  Dro repeated, “You need to turn him over.”

  I shook my head again, firmly. “First of all, I can’t just hand him over. That machine does whatever the hell he wants. He doesn’t take orders from me.”

  “And second of all?”

  “The planet is going to be crawling with these robots by this time next year. Why don’t you wait a bit and you can buy yourself one like everyone else?”

  They both laughed. Not in a mean, villainous way, but in a jovial, that-was-really-funny way. I think they appreciated my attempt to lighten the mood. I hadn’t meant to crack a joke.

  “I guess you can imagine how much someone would pay for an early look,” Dro said. “This is too big to ignore. No one wants to be blind-sided. Your competitors don’t want their billion dollar market share to plunge without warning. Heads of state will want to prepare for a new security threat. World militaries will be interested. You can imagine the bidding wars that go on over tech leaps like this.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t an idiot. These guys were in the business of finding unreleased disruptive tech and selling it on the black market.

  “We figure your employers are watching that thing like a hawk.”

  “That’s a good assumption,” I answered.

  Dro leaned back. He stuck a hand in his blazer. I flinched. He pulled out a thin plastic case, and asked, “Why are you still hanging out with him? We figured you would have rushed him back to the home office as soon as things got messy.”

  “I didn’t believe you were serious about tracking me down. I’m kind of a hide-my-head-in-the-sand type of guy.”

  They laughed again. Dro set the plastic case on the table and slid it over.

  I picked it up and saw "TJ" scrawled on the top. “What is this?”

  “Open it.”

  Cautiously, I caught a fingernail under the flap and popped the case open. It contained a serrated disc about four inches in diameter. It looked like a slicer, a nasty projectile fired out of an illegal gun I’d only seen in movies. They cut into almost anything. They’d stick in a concrete wall, but they passed straight through hands and heads.

  “This is how we’re going to manage him. We’re going to cut him off at the ankles,” Chi explained. “That ought to subdue him. We will re-attach the pieces later.

  Dro looked at his buddy and said, “I’d rather watch him run around without feet.”

  “Why is my name on it?”

  “It’s for you, if you don’t help us.” Dro smiled again. “Fedas thought you’d need a little extra incentive.”

  Ah, his name was Fedas. Not Fetus.

  Chi added, “FYI. In case this doesn’t catch a big artery or vein, it’s also coated in tetanus neurotoxin, for good measure.”

  I dropped the case and put my hand on the table as if to rise. “I have to find my friend. It was great getting caught up.”

  Chi spoke to his partner. “Is he doubting our threats again?”

  Josh clapped an arm on the shoulders of both thugs and they froze.

  “Hi guys,” Josh said. “I remember you two.”

  They looked up at him, neither one speaking or moving.

  Josh stared back.

  Finally Chi spoke. “Good to see you, too. We didn’t catch your name.”

  Josh continued staring at them. They squirmed.

  I leaned forward, then paused as a woman with a baby stroller stopped next to us to rustle through her purse. She continued on. I said, “Gentleman, this is Josh. You can’t beat him at a staring contest.”

  Josh released his grip and patted their shoulders. He leaned close. “Are we going to have it out, right here? I can kill you in less than a second.”

  They exchanged looks. They were weighing their options and didn’t look happy.

  Josh leaned in. He popped the slicer out of its case, covered it with his hand and rested his palm on Dro’s neck. “You hurt my friend TJ here and I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and pull you apart in the slowest conceivable way. Then I will track down your boss, whoever he is, and shove the parts up his rectum. I mean this literally.”

  Dro leaned away from the serrated blade. “Careful, that thing has some nasty stuff on it.”

  Josh set the toxic blade in Chi’s lap, then slowly and carefully wiped his fingers on Dro’s shirt sleeve. He examined his hands, then brought them together in a friendly clasp. “Nice seeing you. I hope we never see you again but I suspect we will. Until then, fuck you. Remember what I said about the ends of the earth.”

  Josh pulled me up by a gentle lift of my arm, turned me away, and led me out of the food court.

  “Where the hell did you go?” I demanded.

  “I spotted them the second they got off the escalator. I kept my distance to see what they would do.”

  I shook my head again. “I don’t know who’s worse. How come NeoMechi doesn’t swoop in when shit like that happens?”

  “As far as they know, you are taking great care of me.”

  I squinted at him.

  He tapped his head. “I’m filtering, deleting, misdirecting. They don’t need to know everything we’re up to.”

  “You can’t do that!"

  “I’m watching your back. You’ll get in trouble if NeoMechi discovers that our secret is leaking out. You should have read that nondisclosure.”

  “How bad is it?

  “Bad.”

  I grabbed my hair to tear it out. “You gave that to me!"

  “Don’t worry,” Josh said. “NeoMechi is going to get whatever reality I give them.”

  I sighed. “Anyway, here’s the deal. Those thugs want to kidnap you and sell you to the highest bidder.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “They want to slice your arms and legs off.”

  “Who cares?”

  “I care. I don’t like being around dangerous people.”

  “Fuck ’em,” Josh said.

  “Seriously, that’s your response?”

  “Let them come get me. Let them try.”

  “Don’t you think it was stupid of NeoMechi to put me at this kind of risk?”

  “They don’t care about you.”

  “I’m starting to realize that,” I said.

  He squeezed my shoulder, as if offering protection. “Just make it through the week. My advice: do exactly what Barry said. Try to have fun. These are historic times! Wheee!"

  “But why in God’s name are they just letting you walk around, when you must be worth hundreds of millions?”

  “That’s easy, TJ.”

  I waited. Raised my eyebrows.

  “Unbelievable confidence. Sheer chutzpah. NeoMechi knows they’ve already won the game, no matter what happens. Even if I were to get captured. From here on, it’s all marketing. The race is already over.”

  Since when was a race between competitors over? The giant chess game in the sky was never over. Product, counter-product. Move, counter-move.

  Josh was wrong. There was no end to it.

  And speaking of marketing, I owed Barry a pitch and I was starting to run out of time. I had no idea what to think anymore or where I
stood in the grand scheme of things. It was hard to concentrate when I was getting death threats. Nevertheless, I had to agree that my best bet was to get through the week and give NeoMechi what they wanted. After that I could run for the hills. As soon as we got back, I grabbed a GelPad and got to work.

  I tried to write freely, putting ideas down without judging their merit. My creativity was hampered by my stress, fear, and bad attitude.

  NeoMechi has created the ultimate handyman. He will replace a light bulb, a rotting windowsill, a broken fridge circuit, you.

  Okay, enough. I had to be serious.

  NeoMechi has created the ultimate thinking machine. A cognitive assistant for the busy human on the go. A handy helper that processes more data than you with more reliable results. Get him working for you now, as soon as possible, because the more he learns about your day-to-day world, the better he can predict your next move.

  That wasn’t going to cut it.

  Listen up everyone. You’re all fucked.

  I wasn’t in the mood for this, clearly.

  Step right up and buy a Perfectus. Last thing you’ll ever need.

  Maybe I needed some antidepressants. I never did get that coffee.

  Start stockpiling weapons. NeoMechi has built the pathway to Armageddon.

  Aaargh.

  The hell with it. I’d have to try again later.

  Maybe I could at least update my journal – the record I had started on Sunday to record this historic week.

  Opening my journal file, I saw that the last entry was Wednesday afternoon. I could have sworn I had written a little update that evening, after Josh pulled his acting stunt.

  I typed: My week with Josh is a lot more than I bargained for. I can’t go into a lot of detail now, but there are things about him I don’t like.

  Was Josh monitoring my journal entries? What if he was reading them? What if he was editing them? What if he was re-writing history? I kept scrolling through my recaps of the week, looking for changes. Every now and then I saw something I didn’t remember typing, and my paranoia grew. After a while, I was stressed and had to stop.

  I flopped in a chair.

  I was watching live coverage of the Graphene Monster on my phone when Indira called.

  “I had fun last night,” she said.

  “Thank you, I did too.”

  “Josh is a funny guy.”

  “It gets old.” I was annoyed.

  “Josh will only be here a few more days, right?”

  “Yes, then he is off.” Thank God.

  “I thought that, since Josh won’t be here much longer, we could get together with him again.”

  “Why?” I immediately regretted my irritated tone.

  She was a little thrown. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” I said. “That’s fine. Come by after work.” Whatever.

  She thanked me, said goodbye and beeped off.

  “Indira’s coming over after work,” I told Josh without enthusiasm.

  “Why don’t you ask her to bring Rachel, too?”

  “Because I’m not on the phone anymore,” I answered, holding my hands up as if to display their emptiness to a two-year-old.

  “You don’t have to be so petulant,” he said.

  “Look, I’m not in the mood for entertaining tonight. Indira can stop by, we’ll all chat a bit, and that’s it.”

  Josh looked disappointed but didn’t push me.

  I avoided Josh and forced myself to resume work on the marketing messages, but I still couldn’t concentrate well enough to make any headway. Brilliant insights eluded me. I could barely remember any of the Standard Elements of a Persuasive Pitch. My mind wandered. I stared at the screen while pondering various methods that might be useful for removing an electronic head.

  Eventually, I started typing:

  Who can do math better than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can design cars better than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can throw a football better than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can analyze DNA better than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can prepare food better than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can collect tickets better than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can bag groceries better than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can stock shelves better than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can teach classes better than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can lay undersea cable better than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can explore deep space better than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can rescue stranded hikers better than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can run financial statements faster than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can run faster than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can shoot the enemy faster than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can fix snap-lace buttons faster than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can review legal documents faster than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can mix drinks cheaper than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can operate cranes cheaper than a human? The Perfect.

  Who can diagnose ear infections cheaper than a human? The Perfect.

  Do you want one?

  I deleted the entire thing. Rubbed my eyes.

  Glancing at the time, I knew I had to exert a little effort to get ready: spray on some deodorant, pick a nicer shirt. This wasn’t really a date, but I wasn’t going to be a slob either.

  About 20 minutes before Indira was to arrive, I got a nagging feeling that something was missing. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I looked around the room. Something in the back of my mind was jockeying for attention. What was it? What was wrong?

  Josh poked his head in. “There’s still time to ask Rachel to come by.”

  I looked away. He better not call Rachel before he leaves, I thought. Hopefully she wouldn’t try to stay in touch, either. Good God, imagine if they developed some kind of relationship. A twisted romance of some sort. What if he told her the truth – and she was okay with it? What if they got romantic?

  I realized what was bothering me. The bag was missing. The bag with Josh’s superfluous vibrating appendage. Where the hell was it? I frantically looked around on my dresser where I had left it. Did Josh steal it back, the sneaky bastard?

  I ran to Josh’s room and accosted him. “Did you take it back?”

  “What?” he asked innocently.

  “Your penis, dickhead.”

  “No,” he answered.

  “It’s gone. If you didn’t take it, where is it?”

  “Wasn’t it in a small green bag?” Josh asked. “A Bean God bag?”

  “Yes, that’s right. It was.”

  “Well, why don’t you ask Zach. I’m pretty sure he knows what happened to it.”

  “You son of a bitch.” It was clear he had known about this. I tapped my phone and pinged Zach until he answered.

  “What,” he asked grouchily.

  “Did you see a bag in my bedroom, the green one with a Bean God logo on it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is it?”

  “I put it in the box with grandpa’s things like you asked.”

  I processed this new piece of information. Apparently, I had unknowingly brought the thing to the retirement home and left it on the dresser in Dad’s room.

  “You stay here,” I told Josh. “In case I am not back before Indira shows up.” I was breaking the rule about leaving him alone, but the hell with it.

  I pinged a car and ran outside, pacing while I waited for it to arrive. I looked at my watch. Not much time. 15-20 minutes. There was no way I was getting over there and back before she arrived. About 5 minutes after requesting the car, it sidled up.

  “Good evening,” the car said. “It’s a lovely night. Where –"

  I cut her off. “Sunset and Sunrise Retirement Home. As fast as possible.”

  The car took off at a good clip, safe but aggressive, and brought me
via a series of swerves and accelerations to the nursing home in record time.

  “Thanks,” I said and ducked out as the door opened. I had paid for a round trip and the car stayed in its spot, waiting for me to return.

  I ran down the hall. Dad’s room was shut. I gave a courtesy knock but opened it without waiting for a response. No one was there. Mr. Ferguson was gone. His bed was gone, too. He wasn’t coming back.

  In seconds I was at the box I had dropped off. I rustled through the contents and located the Bean God bag. Empty. I shuffled all the items around. Not there. A quick search around his room left me empty handed as well.

  “Shit,” I said.

  I checked his schedule on the wall. Thursday at 7 p.m. – Ice Cream and Games in the grand hall.

  I hustled down to the hall, unsure what to say. It’s not like I could ask him where he had put the schlong that I had left in his room. He wouldn’t have understood what I was talking about. Maybe one of the nurses found it. This could get awkward – excuse me ma’am, did you happen to find anything anatomical among my father’s things?

  Dad was sitting at a far table with three women. I made my way over, greeting several familiar faces along the way. They were a chatty bunch and I normally like to talk, but at the moment, I had to be a little rude and keep moving.

  There was an empty seat at his table and I sat down. “Hello!" I said, nodding to each of them. Dad smiled and said hello. His face showed that he wasn’t sure who I was.

  He was wearing his favorite purple robe. I saw my object of interest immediately. He had placed it in his robe’s front breast pocket. Poking out.