by P. S. Power
Shaking her head a little, she pulled out an efficiently designed weapons carry pack from the hidden closet space, and started loading it. He waited, because she didn't seem upset really. Not that he could tell. Finally she turned around, and handed the thing to him.
"Most of that is non-lethal. You don't know where you're going, right? You'll need to see about food too. Water, and a med kit. Some way to come back. That isn't the safest way to get things done, but if you aren't coming back, at least someday, then I'm going with you. So if you want me to cry and play grieving widow, I expect you to promise me that you'll do it. Return to me."
Jake had to think for a minute. He couldn't lie to her, but didn't really need to either, did he? If he was careful he could change his face easily enough to get past visual identification. Really, his leaving to a different world was just a way to ensure he didn't mess up to much. That, or weaken in his resolve and step in to help people that really didn't need it. If he stayed away for twenty years or so, that would be enough for most to forget about him as more than a legend. At fifty they wouldn't want him back, even if he told them he was still alive. Not as any sort of religious leader.
So he nodded.
"I love you. Don't wait for me though. Have a life, and loves... and be the worst widow ever. I'll come back in about twenty years or so. If it's possible. I'll make plans for it. I promise. I don't know what I'll be walking into though. I'll need the weapons in that case." A part of him was greedy for them. The safety they represented in his hands. Another part saw them as weakness.
You didn't need guns to make friends. They only caused people to rely on violence instead of doing the harder work of getting along.
His love dimpled at him charmingly.
"Well, you know, I'll do my best that way. Take to doing sailors in seedy bar bathrooms or something. Creepy porn shoots. With puppets." She grinned, because while ports and bars still existed, the bathrooms would be nicely cleaned now. Most places weren't really seedy anymore. The health codes didn't allow it. They had porn, because they were still people, kinder and gentler world or not. If any of it involved puppets though, he'd missed that social change somehow. It sounded kinky.
It wasn't a bad idea, actually. She was cute and had a nice figure, and it would probably tell everyone that he was really gone. They'd all think she was losing it, but they'd get the idea.
She wouldn't do that, if he were still alive somewhere. Except that they didn't really know her that well, did they? Most of the people around weren't from back in the day. They didn't remember that people at one point had been willing to do almost anything to survive.
Jake did though.
"Good. That's the spirit. I really do love you. I'm sorry. If I could see a better way, I'd take it. Even moving to the asteroid belt would leave me too accessible though. That would always put me just a com call away. It's time for Hope to take over, and then, in fifty or a hundred years past that, it's going to be time for her to leave, too. Otherwise everyone will become too used to being told what to do. That's bad for the soul. People need to make their own mistakes from time to time. Otherwise they won't remember that they're just as responsible for the world as the next person."
Not that he believed in things like that.
There was a gentle kiss then, that lasted for long enough they ended up making love. It was both sad, and sweet, at the same time. Feeling final and full of promises to return. Colleen didn't ask him anything more, or make him promise to come back twice. She knew he'd meant it.
When he left her she didn't cry. That would come later, he suspected. It was why she'd given him the bag. To make certain that he didn't really kill himself in the car. If the heavy olive colored thing was gone from the scene when the emergency workers got there, then she'd know he was actually alive, and possibly coming back to her.
The unfairness of it pulled at him for a bit. Not that it wasn't still what had to happen. Poor Colleen, being treated like that by him. It was rough and hard. Not like who he really was.
It surprised him to think that sort of thing. This version of Jake was kinder than the killer he remembered, certainly. Less moody and down. That would be due to the fact that he wasn't drugged past all ability to tolerate such things, no doubt. Plus, now he knew he was loved. He always had been.
It made all the difference, in the end.
Faking his demise didn't take long. It was just a matter of making sure no one was around when the vehicle malfunctioned. Lethally, for the bio-replicant in the front seat. It looked like him down to the cellular level, which was the point. No one would bother to test past that, he didn't think. The scans of the charged remains would match, and that would be that. Mickey Robson would be dead and gone from the world. At least until he came back. It would be a trick, collecting Colleen later, but they'd manage it.
He'd promised after all.
The biggest problem he had left was the need for a disguise and transportation to someplace else, very far away. The first part was simply a mask. One that made him look different enough that no one would think it was him as he carried his pack along the highway, like a man taking a walking trip. His clothing was right for it, being in a skintight blue utility suit. Cars passed, going to and fro on their own business. No one stopped for him, though they would have if he signaled for them to.
People did that kind of thing now. They would have even gone out of their way to see that he got to his destination, most of the time. Unless they had very pressing business of their own. In that case they would have called for one of the city cars to come and take him where he needed to go.
That meant he wanted to walk, to everyone else around him. So they left him alone. It was more or less true. The mindless activity gave him time to really rethink what he was doing.
There had to be a better way. There was too, and he knew about it. All people had to do was stop using him as a crutch. He'd asked them to, thousands of times over the years. No one had taken him up on the idea. Not even once.
Of all of the old crew, only Skolu, Tipper, was willing to actually try and understand what he meant. Once he wouldn't have thought she could see that clearly, but time had changed them both. Really, it had changed them all. Like it should.
Later, as he walked along, missing his old life more than he should have, and Colleen exactly as much as he could, he went into a restaurant for a meal, and to sit for a while.
There was a quiet stillness to the place, even though there were nearly fifty people inside. The far wall had been turned into a tele-presence screen, making the room seem like it opened onto a street. One where his old car was parked next to a park bench. It was a smoking ruin, and someone had freed the replicant from inside it. The face it wore was his own, and remarkably well preserved, meaning that someone had gotten there faster than he'd figured on. Hopefully they hadn't been injured getting his double free from the fire like that.
No one was looking, so he checked his mask in a bit of shining plasmetal that was used on the counter top, making sure it looked right.
Like someone else.
A woman that looked like most people did, being healthy, fresh faced, and seeming about twenty-five or so, saw him and came over. She looked grim, but wasn't crying.
"The... The Very Good Man... Mickey. He's dead. Car accident. It was a freak thing. Can I get you anything?" It was said darkly, but he nodded.
"Something to eat? Some water?" He didn't want to seem unkind, but really doubted he could anymore. He also didn't want to seem like Mickey Robson wearing a mask. That meant he didn't hug the stranger, and seek to reassure her that the world would be all right without him. They still had Hope. That had been such a horrible name to hang around her neck, but she'd more than lived up to it.
The woman nodded and got him a plate with what seemed to be a hamburger on it. He hadn't eaten meat for eighty years, himself. Not even the fake kind, since it was a bit too realistic, but he nodded at it. Most people did, even now, and it was consid
ered a special treat for a lot of people. Something that they had only on special occasions. Not that it cost more bio-material to make than anything else. It was just that some things were too important to take lightly. Like the fact that even fake meat was meant to represent the life of a living being.
"Thanks. What do I owe you for it?"
"Two-fifty. Did you ever get to meet him? The Very Good Man?"
He pulled his wallet out, and nearly froze, realizing that it was his. Mickey Robson's. It had the money he needed, but also pictures of his wife and friends. Right there on the flimsy film player, in three dimensions. Using his hand he hid those flashing images, and pulled three bills. The red haired lady had gone back to looking at the far wall, with its smoke and light blue car, so she didn't notice him acting like he was hiding things from her.
Even though he clearly was. It occurred to him that once upon a time he would have managed that part better. All that clean living had made him more than a bit soft, in many ways.
He had his wallet away before she turned back. There were tears in her eyes then. He remembered to speak, his voice going soft. Low and husky, so that only she could get what he was saying. Like Jake had always used.
"I heard him play." Every time it had ever happened, to be exact, but the woman just tightened her lips and nodded.
"Me too. My mother took me when I was little. She knew him. Back when the dead came? She doesn't talk about him much. The only thing she'd say was that we all owed him a greater debt than anyone could admit. I always wondered what she meant. Maybe she'll tell me someday? Let me know if you need anything else." Then, not paying much attention to him, she wandered off, ending up near three other people in server's uniforms. Black and gold, which wasn't nearly as pretty as it could have been. Uniforms almost never were.
Tipping wasn't a thing anymore, since everyone was assured an adequate wage for their efforts. So when he finished Jake used their bathroom to wash up, making sure he was totally clean, and didn't have bits of food on the mask he wore, and got back to his walking.
It took three months for him to get to his destination, which was actually in Europe. He'd had to get a gig working as a sailor in order to work things around right. It had taken a bit of effort to find a captain that was willing to allow him to trade free labor for passage, without using any information that would flag the authorities. That part had taken nearly as long as the trip itself. Then, once at the right port, which was in the North, he quit, politely, as was the plan, and started walking again.
The house he wanted was a place that he'd never been to before. It was old fashioned looking, but small. Made from logs, by hand. An A-frame place that would shed the winter snows there well enough not to collapse. It had a chimney, but it was still warm enough that nothing came out of it. Not that Skolu wouldn't have a set of Helmholtz resonator warming plates set up too. They used changes in air pressure to move heat from the ground and collect it inside. They were slow, and low powered, but could hold things at above freezing pretty well. They cut heating costs by about half, if you had enough of them.
As a Val, she didn't need a lot more than one or two. He didn't either, with a coat on.
Jake saw that someone was home, so moved up onto the wooden porch and knocked politely. He rapped out the first line to Happy Birthday to You. It was one of the old knocking codes that they used to use, to prove they weren't Zombies trying to get in for a late night snack. Not complicated creatures, those old undead.
It took a bit for the woman to get there, and she looked better than he remembered her.
Toned and fit, but with long curly brown hair, and warm blue eyes. Flawless skin, and looking like she was about twenty. About twenty-five years more youthful than when they'd first met, all those decades before. There was enough of her there still to remind him of Tip though.
She stared at him for a bit, her eyes searching his face, looking for some clue as to who he was. It was clear that she couldn't make it out past the mask yet. Not even by scent. It had been a while since they'd met in person, even though they still talked about once per year over the com.
Skolu spoke using Pri'lang, since that was what most people did anymore. It was an artificial language, but far more efficient, and easy to learn than anything else they had. It had only taken him three days to get it down, and about a month to become totally fluent. Honestly, that was a bit slow, compared to most people. Kids practically drank it in completely in a day or two.
"Hello. What can I do for you?"
He answered in English, which was about the fifth most common language left now. Not that popular at all.
"Hi Tipper. I need to come in, then... We should talk."
She answered in the same tongue, her face looking shocked at the use of the old name.
"Oh? Who are you, then? I don't remember the face, but these days that doesn't mean much."
He shrugged, knowing that no one would be bothering to listen in. They didn't live in a surveillance society, after all. That had proved to be too harmful to everyone's mind in the long run. Being watched too closely made more people willing to try and break the rules than would have otherwise.
"Jake. I have a disguise on."
That got him glared at for half a minute, but the woman let him in.
It was a nice place, inside. Done up in real wood that had a rustic feel to it. Some of the furniture was stuff that he'd made. Smiling he pointed at one of the pieces.
"That one was not good, was it? Well, what can I say? I was young and inexperienced. Oh, here..." He took the mask off, peeling it away from his flesh carefully. It could be made to look like anyone, but itched a little. He'd gotten used to it, but still rubbed his face when he took it off. It was a relief, having it off after all that time. It wouldn't pay to let his guard down, not now, so he stayed alert instead.
Ready to dodge, in case an attack came.
"Jake?" He got a hug instead, that nearly crushed the air out of him. He was picked up off the floor in her exuberance. "I knew you wouldn't go down to something as stupid as a car malfunctioning. That would have given you what, ten seconds to get out? How anyone could believe that, I don't know. Was it an attack? That pack has weapons in it." She moved to glance out the large window on the end of her place near the door. It was in her nature to note things like how he was armed, so it didn't shock him too much that she caught on to that. Even though no one else had seemed to during his travels. Not even law enforcement when he passed them.
Nodding, he hugged her again. Smiling.
"Closer to five seconds, but I set it up before hand. It wasn't an attack. It was a protest against all those people wanting me to wipe their hind ends for them all the time. How hard is it to just work together? They do it all the time now anyway. They don't need anyone to tell them to do it. So... I need to get away for a while. Go to some other world. For about twenty years, or so. I promised Colleen that I'd be back. Can you help me out?"
The women held up her hand, which was pale and smooth looking, showing no signs of age at all. That was part of the nano hive she had in her for medical reasons. They all had them now.
"Wait. I mean, it's great that you aren't dead, and I can help you escape, but did you really just use the phrase 'wipe their hind ends' in a sentence? What are you, twelve?"
He threw off a wave, and then winked at his old friend.
"That's me. The Very Good Boy in perpetuity. Here to save the world, one golly-gee snappy lesson at a time. This one I like to call, 'you don't really need me to hold your hand'. Not you, in particular. You never really thought that way. That's why I can tell you about all of this. You can check on everyone and tell them I'm still around, if they can't adapt. They can though. It's time for people to move on, and become whatever it is they really are. Not some distorted reflection of me."
Not that the world had ever been that. Not really. It was just that he was influencing things too much.
Smiling, since that was a part of him and alway
s had been, Jake shrugged.
"So what do you say? Can I get a ride to another world? Someplace that needs a little shot of what I can bring to the game?"
After a moment he found himself held again. It was nice. Nearly loving.
"I have one that might work for you. It's a pretty dark place. It has promise though. Honestly, for both of us the whole world would be fascinating, I bet. There's another me there too, so you won't feel too lonely. Lovely woman. I was thinking of redoing my hair to be more like hers. You'll love her. Really. There's another Mickey, too. He's sweet, but not like you are. It's hard to explain. They all speak English, and understand that some people come from alternate worlds already. They could use you though. Their Mickey is a nice guy, but he's not a Very Good Man. Plus I'll know where to pick you up. If you survive, I mean. It's not the safest place ever. They have a war that just started over there. On the good side they also have people to make sure it doesn't get too out of hand. You can just hold some hands and be backup for a few of them."
He could see that as being valid.
"I didn't ask for safe. Just someplace where I could help. It could be interesting meeting another me. I always wondered if I was annoying all the time. All happy and nice when I should be normal and edgy like the rest of you." There was a wink and a smile with the teasing.
Skolu kissed him, her hands roaming a bit further down than they had for a long time. She squeezed gently on the front of his trousers.
"You aren't that bad. I have to say, I'd forgotten how different you used to be. Jake... It wasn't just a change of name for you, was it? You really used to be someone different."
It was the truth, so he just nodded and kissed her back. After all, she needed him to, and Colleen wouldn't mind. Or, she might, but that didn't mean she would have stopped him from making sure his friend knew she was loved too.
Then, after they did more than a few things they never had together before, she had him get back into his disguise and took him to the primary transfer station. You didn't need a pass to get in, but having her there meant he didn't need to leave a paper trail.