by Brian Olsen
“You look cold.”
“Fuck!” Deshawn spun around.
A man was watching him from the far side of the fountain, near the street.
“Sorry. Did I frighten you?” the man asked as he circled around closer.
The man was white and old – in his fifties or so, Deshawn would guess. He was bald on top with a short, neat ring of graying black hair on the sides. His tall and slender frame was swallowed by the expensive down jacket he wore. Underneath the jacket, sticking out from the bottom, was a second coat, long, thin and white, like the one the doctor at the free clinic wore. Small, dark eyes looked predatorily at Deshawn from behind thin-rimmed glasses. Deshawn knew that look.
The boy pulled himself together, covering his surprise with a look of feigned nonchalance.
“You just surprised me, that’s all. Didn’t see you there.”
The man stopped a few feet away. “Aren’t you cold?”
Nah, I’m sunbathing, Deshawn thought. It’s January, asshole, I’m a fucking rainbow pop.
“Cold don’t bother me,” he said instead. He unzipped his jacket, revealing the threadbare black t-shirt underneath. He lifted the shirt, showing off his abs. “See?”
The man couldn’t look away. “Yes. Yes, I see.”
Deshawn didn’t really need confirmation of what this guy was after, but he had it now anyway. He didn’t like hustling, but he did it every once in a while, usually when he hadn’t seen a good meal for a few days. He knew his target market, and he knew what this guy would be looking for.
Deshawn was fifteen, but he was short and that helped him look younger. His dark skin was clear of any acne or blemishes, his face was pretty, and his body was skinny. Too skinny, but old guys liked that. They didn’t always like the way he dyed his close-cropped ’fro neon blue, but as far as Deshawn was concerned that was tough shit for them.
He lowered his shirt and zipped his coat back up. He didn’t say anything, waiting for the man to ask the questions. Safer that way.
“I’ve seen you here before,” the man said.
“I’m here sometimes,” Deshawn replied. “I ain’t seen you. What’s your name, papi?”
“I’m Doctor Cheek.”
Deshawn smiled. “I knew you was a doctor. I can see your doctor coat.”
Cheek smiled back. “You’re very observant.”
“What hospital you work at?”
“I’m not that kind of doctor,” he said. “I’m a physicist.”
“For reals? I liked science in school. I want to be a veterinarian.”
Cheek laughed. “So you like animals, do you? That’s perfect.”
Something about the man’s laugh bothered Deshawn. It wasn’t friendly. There was a joke there that Deshawn didn’t understand, something at his expense. He took a step back.
“Okay, so, good meeting you, Doctor Cheek. I gotta meet my friends.”
“Wait,” the man said, taking another step towards Deshawn. “It’s very cold out. Why don’t you come with me and get warm? I’m right here, on Christopher Street. We can have lunch.”
Deshawn kept his expression blank while he weighed up the pros and cons. If he went with the man, he might miss going to Project Q. The doctor probably wouldn’t let Deshawn spend the night, and then he’d be on his own and possibly on the street until the next day. Plus, he was working on a painting in art class that he really wanted to finish. And he wanted to talk to Kevin about his dad, see if the program director would talk to him about maybe letting Deshawn spend at least a few nights a week at home.
On top of all that, every instinct was screaming at him that this old guy was trouble. But Deshawn was cold, and hungry, and the man might give him money.
“I can’t stay long. My friends will be looking for me.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Leave whenever you wish. Shall we?”
The man turned and headed out of the park. After a moment, Deshawn followed. Deshawn was small, but he figured he could take the old guy if he had to.
They crossed West Street and started up Christopher. They had only gone a block when Cheek reached into his pocket for his keys.
“Whoa, hold up,” Deshawn said, stopping. “You live in this building?”
The large building, on the corner of Christopher and Washington, housed a number of rental properties, including Project Q. Deshawn stepped back nervously, not wanting any of the Project’s staff to see him.
“Nobody lives here, but my lab is on the top floor.”
“This is...I know people here. I don’t...” He trailed off.
Cheek smiled again. “You don’t want the people from the social services program you attend to see you with me. I understand. I’d also prefer to avoid them. Come, I have the key to the side entrance. We’ll take the freight elevator.”
So the old man scoped out Project Q for trade, Deshawn thought. Fucking pervert. At least there was safety close by if the guy was dangerous.
He ran to catch up to the doctor, who had started down Washington Street. Halfway down the block he stopped and opened up a door that Deshawn had never noticed before. The hallway inside was wide but dirty, the concrete floor covered in dried muddy bootprints. Large garbage bags were piled against one wall. A metal gate opened onto a service elevator at the far end.
“I’m the only tenant with use of this elevator,” Doctor Cheek said. “I have a lot of large equipment I need to move in and out.”
Deshawn squashed the urge to say, “I’ll bet you do.” He still didn’t know if he was going to go through with this, and didn’t want to get the old guy any more excited.
Cheek pulled the gate open and the two stepped on to the freight elevator. The gate slammed closed and Cheek pulled the large lever. The elevator jerked to life. Cheek was humming something.
“What’s that song?” Deshawn asked him.
“Hmm? Oh, it’s from The Fairy-Queen. Purcell. It’s an opera. Well, more of a masque, I suppose. It’s based on Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. That’s a play.”
“I know what it is,” Deshawn said, bristling. “I seen it. They did it on the pier last summer. The guy turns into a donkey.”
“Yes! Yes, precisely. Very good, very good.”
The elevator stopped and the outer doors slid open. Cheek pulled open the gate.
“Here we are, fifth floor. After you, young man.”
Deshawn stepped out into the hallway of the top floor of the Project Q building. Cheek stepped deftly around him and opened up the nondescript door they were facing. A simple sign, printed on a sheet of white paper, was taped to the wall next to it. It read, “Qubit Technologies.”
“Kwuh-bit?” Deshawn asked.
“Cue-bit,” Cheek responded as he searched for the correct key from amongst the multitude on his ring. “You know what a gigabyte is?”
“Like in a computer?”
“Yes. It’s like that, but more so.”
Deshawn didn’t understand, but he let the matter go. Cheek got the door open and the boy followed him inside Qubit Technologies.
They stepped into a small reception area. The room was stark, with no decoration on the bare white walls and very little furniture. Next to an interior door stood an empty desk, with no papers, no computer, nothing. There wasn’t even a chair behind it.
“Nobody else here?” Deshawn asked.
“Hmm? Oh, no, no, nobody else. I have a few associates but I’m the only person here most days.”
He opened up the door into the lab and Deshawn stepped through.
Deshawn had never seen anything like Doctor Cheek’s laboratory before. The room was huge. It must have taken up a good quarter of the top floor and had to be two stories high, towering irregularly over the rest of the building. The walls were the same bare white as the hallways outside, but large semicircular windows ran along all four walls up at the very top. The windows allowed light in but afforded no view in particular, at least not from the vantage point of the floor.
/> In one corner stood what he assumed was Cheek’s desk, with a tablet computer and piles of papers on top. Around the room were several other larger computers, most connected to equipment Deshawn couldn’t identify. The equipment looked like it had been assembled here – all exposed wires and circuit boards. Piles of scrap equipment littered a few other tables, along with tools and soldering equipment. Everywhere he looked something was blinking, but nothing commanded his attention more than the device which dominated the far end of the room.
On a raised metal pedestal, about a foot high, stood a large glass cabinet, big enough to hold a person or two. The rear of the cabinet was set into a massive metal box, painted a drab green. The box was wider than the glass cabinet, extending about three or four feet past it on either side.
“Feeling a little warmer?” Cheek asked. He removed his outer jacket and hung it on a hook near the door.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah.”
“I’m sorry, I know it’s still a bit cold in here. Such a big open space, hard to heat. Still, better than being out in that wind, eh?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s good,” Deshawn answered. He couldn’t stop looking at the cabinet.
“I see you’ve noticed my little project. Go ahead, take a closer look.”
Deshawn looked at Cheek warily, but the old doctor stayed where he was, smiling at him. Cautiously, Deshawn approached the large machine. He peeked around behind it – the metal box it was set in extended back another four feet. There was enough room between the rear of the device and the wall for a person to get in and work – there were vents and access panels all over the box, all closed. Huge power cables snaked out from one side, leading to three giant generators humming in the corner of the room.
He came back around and looked down at the front of the pedestal. A few smaller cables led from the green metal underneath the glass cabinet and up the side of a desk nearby, then into a dedicated computer. Deshawn looked at the computer’s touchscreen monitor. The words and numbers on the display meant nothing to him.
“Those are the controls,” Doctor Cheek said helpfully.
“What is this?” Deshawn asked. “What do you do here?”
“Officially, we’re working on what they call the quantum internet. It’s a way of sending information more securely.”
Deshawn looked at the large cabinet dubiously. “Uh-huh. Officially?”
Cheek laughed. “Well, yes, officially. Unoffically...why don’t I show you?” Cheek gestured to the cabinet. “Get in.”
That was the last red flag. Deshawn was done. He had warmed up now, and he wasn’t that hungry. He zipped up his jacket and headed for the door.
“Nah, that’s okay. I’m good. I gotta go, my friends...”
“I’ll give you a thousand dollars.”
Deshawn stopped. He turned back to look at Cheek, who had walked to his desk and was rifling through a drawer. The old man pulled out a small metal cash box and placed it on the desk, then opened it to reveal a substantial wad of bills. He calmly walked across the room again, back towards the glass cabinet.
“There,” Cheek said. “I understand you need to be cautious. You could grab that money and run out the door before I could stop you, but I hope you’re more honorable than that.”
Deshawn looked at the money. There was a hundred dollar bill on top. The pile could easily be a thousand dollars, maybe more. The doctor was right. Deshawn was fast. He could grab it and break for the door before the doctor could take a step.
But Deshawn didn’t like the idea of stealing. And the doctor would probably call the cops if he did.
A thousand dollars.
“What do you want me to do?” Deshawn asked.
“Just get in the cabinet. You don’t even have to touch me, I promise. I’ll just watch.”
“You want a show?” Deshawn asked.
“Yes, that’s right. I want a show,” Cheek answered, smiling gently.
Tentatively, Deshawn approached the cabinet. He kept one wary eye on the doctor, who lifted his hands placatingly and took another step back.
Deshawn grasped the simple metal handle on the front of the cabinet and pulled. With a soft click the glass door swung outward. He took a step up onto the raised platform, then stopped. He looked back at the old man.
“Why so much?”
“I beg your pardon?” Cheek replied.
“How come you’re gonna give me so much money just to watch me?”
“Creative accounting,” he said. “It’s not my money, it’s the company’s. I can list it as a work expense. Call it a consulting fee.” He laughed at his joke.
Deshawn thought he understood – the doctor was stealing from the people he worked for. That was why he was willing to spend so much.
The doctor was far enough away that Deshawn knew he could escape if he had to, but still he felt uncertain. He weighed the risks against the chance to earn so much money.
“I’m gonna keep the door to this thing open,” he said.
“Yes, of course, whatever makes you feel safe,” Cheek said, smiling.
Deshawn stepped into the cabinet. The small chamber felt colder than the rest of the room, somehow. The slight humming sound from all the electrical equipment that filled the lab got slightly louder. He turned around to face the old scientist.
“What do you want me to do?” the boy asked nervously. He hooked his thumb into his waistband and draped his fingers over his crotch suggestively. This part never got any easier.
“I don’t want you to do anything,” the man replied. “Just stand there.”
He reached into the pocket of his lab coat, pulled out his phone, and started tapping at the screen.
Deshawn was confused. He stood there for a moment, waiting, but the old man continued to ignore him. Idly, he reached out and touched the wall of the cabinet. The glass was warmer than he expected it to be.
He examined his surroundings. The floor and back wall of the cabinet were both the same pale green metal as the box that the cabinet was set into, although there were no access panels inside the booth. The ceiling of the cabinet was covered in metallic silver squares, no more than an inch across. In the center of each square was a circular glass lens. There had to be hundreds of them. Each of the lenses looked like they could swivel independently – they were all pointed in random directions.
Deshawn looked back at the scientist, who was still fiddling with his phone.
“You sure you don’t want me to take off my shirt or nothing?”
“I’m sorry,” the old man replied, not looking up. “I’m terrible with this thing. I wrote a program – an app – I’m trying to open it, but it keeps...ah! There we are!” Triumphantly he pushed at the screen.
Immediately, the door to the cabinet slammed shut, trapping Deshawn. The boy grabbed for the handle but there wasn’t one on the inside. Furiously he pushed at the door, but it remained firmly locked.
“Fuck, man! Let me out of here! Let me the fuck out!”
Cheek was waggling his phone at him. “Clever, eh? Remote control. I was afraid you’d make a run for it if I stepped towards the controls before I could lock you in.”
Cheek walked towards the computer connected to the cabinet and began examining the display.
“Everything looks all right,” he said. “You weigh even less than I thought. That’s good. I really should have taken your vitals, at least drawn blood, but I thought that might scare you off. I’ll have to get a gun or something for next time.”
“Please, papi, please let me out,” Deshawn said, trying to hide the tremble of fear in his voice. “I won’t tell nobody, I promise.”
“I know you won’t,” Cheek replied, not looking at him.
“You better fucking let me out!” the boy roared, pounding on the glass. “My friends know where I went, they were watching us, they’ll come...”
“Nobody’s going to come,” Cheek said, finally turning to look at him. He took off his glasses and started cleaning them
with the end of his lab coat. “Deshawn Alexander. Fifteen years old. Homeless. Your father threw you out because of your obvious homosexuality, and your mother is too fearful to defy his wishes. She lets you come home on the odd cold night, once in a while, when guilt gets the best of her and your father’s too drunk to notice, but she won’t be surprised when you don’t come home again. She’s been expecting it for some time now, I would imagine.”
Deshawn’s heart pounded at how casually the man had said that Deshawn wouldn’t be going home again. The tears he had been suppressing started to flow.
“Please, sir,” he said. “Please, let me go...”
“I do my research, young man,” the scientist continued. “You’ve been prostituting yourself for the past few months, and your friends think you take unnecessary risks. They’ll miss you, but they won’t be surprised.”
“Please...”
“Quiet, now. I need to make a call.” He walked across the lab, back to his desk. He closed the cash box and returned it to the drawer. He sat, picked up the tablet computer, and started tapping at the screen.
Deshawn examined the lock on the door. The glass was stronger than it looked, but maybe he could bust the lock open if he hit it at just the right spot. He reared back and kicked at the point where the lock on the door met the cabinet. The whole contraption shuddered, but the door held fast.
“That won’t do you any good, you know,” Cheek shouted. “It’s a good idea, but you’re nowhere near strong enough. Ah, there you are! What took you?”
Deshawn looked over at the scientist. He was speaking to someone on his tablet, but Deshawn couldn’t see or hear the other end of the conversation.
“Yes, I’m ready over here. How are things on your end?” Cheek asked. He paused, listening, then continued. “For Heaven’s sake, it’s just a dog, don’t be so sentimental. It’s not a pet. Think of it as a big rat... Yes, yes, I found a subject small enough... Oh, just a stray...”
Cheek threw a glance at Deshawn, then turned back to the screen. “Be ready for a surprise on your end. I think you’ll be pleased. I have to apologize, I couldn’t take any vitals beyond what the cabinet itself can measure... I know, I know, I said I’m sorry. I’ll be better prepared next time. I’m starting now. Let me know when he’s come through on your end... Yes, yes. Talk to you in a moment.”