by Ted Cross
Marcus sagged against the pile of bags at his back and shrugged. “I don’t know. What have I done with my life? What am I going to do with it? I don’t know anything. My country…Papa says it’s all but dead. And he’s right, I think. I used to be able to look outside the windows of our apartment at night and see a galaxy of lights blinking and moving around Phoenix. These days you can usually count the moving lights on two hands.
“It’s funny how much I hate Meshing. It sucked me in for two years before Papa pulled me back out. I was so angry with him, but of course he was right. Now I can’t even go on the Web on my own. Papa has to feed me whatever I need.”
“How does he do all this?” Zoya said. “You make him sound like…I don’t know…some super being.”
Marcus laughed a sad and hysterical laugh. “Who knows what he is?” Since she’d met Marcus, he had averted his gaze any time she had looked at him, but now he stared right back into her eyes. She noticed the deep, liquid brown for the first time, like the coffee her mother had always had each morning. “He’s dead…been dead for seven years now. A stroke.”
“But he…talks to you?”
“You ever heard of Javier Saenz?”
Zoya shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Marcus wiped sweat from his brow and smiled. “And I thought everyone knew of him. He was a legend even before I was born. Greatest coder in history. He’s the man who made the Web viable again; developed the sentry code that killed off all the viruses and spam; prevents new ones from getting in and wrecking everything.” He laughed again. “Of course, that’s exactly what enabled Meshing to happen…a safe Web for everyone.”
“So it’s this sentry code that talks to you?”
“No. My father worked on all kinds of projects. The big one, the one he pulled off just before he died, was the creation of a code cradle that could mimic the functionality of a human mind. Well, not exactly, of course, but close enough. It’s ironic that he had his stroke just after copying his own mind data to his AI model. So that’s what talks to me, a bunch of computer code that I call Papa, because it’s convenient and maybe because sometimes it’s comforting, but it’s not truly him.”
A bot rolled toward them and halted near a large smartwaiter. The door slid open, revealing a cleaning bot. Zoya assumed it must be broken. The repair bot lifted its smaller brother and rolled back toward the front of the room.
Zoya felt an urge to apologize for Marcus’s loss, but stifled it when she realized the absurdity—she had lost everything in her life today. Forcefully she pushed the thoughts of her mother and brother and the rest back into the murk of her clouded mind. With her heart settled, the combat card had faded into the background. “An AI. I guess it makes sense that he can do all these things. He’s sort of like the Meshers, right? Only he lives there permanently.”
“It’s different,” Marcus said. “Meshers ride through the Web like the ultimate virtual reality. Papa is a different sort of entity now, growing larger all the time. He can be almost anywhere at once, as long as it’s interconnected. And he’s even snuck small copies of himself onto private networks. He’s on both of those generation ships up there.” Marcus pointed at the ceiling, but Zoya knew what he meant. “He seeded his copies into the slots of the people working on the ships, and when they plugged into their network, he was in.”
It took a moment for Zoya to realize Marcus was done talking. “So, what have you been doing with your life then, if you think your country is dying?”
Marcus smirked. “What my father wanted me to do, actually. I just got my doctorate yesterday…or whenever it was; I can’t figure out all these time zone changes.”
“First a diplomat, now a doctor.” Zoya forced a small smile. “You’ll be a real catch for some lucky woman.”
“Very funny,” Marcus said. “What good does my degree do me in a country without people? And I know what I look like.” He stared down, either at his belly or the floor, Zoya couldn’t tell.
“You need to adjust your attitude,” Zoya said. “If our law permitted it, you’d be able to marry in this country easily. It’s not easy for a woman to find a partner anymore, not with all the cheap virtual mate programs out there. Men get all they want without any of the hassle. They don’t see any point in marrying now, except for some of the ultra-orthodox, of course. I was saving up to order a baby. A few more years…”
“Order a baby?”
“There’s a clinic near my apartment.”
“Hmm, not so different from us, I guess,” Marcus said. “The Mormons still have children the old way. Lots of children. But then they have as many wives as they can afford. They don’t want us half-citizens propagating beyond what they can use in the work force, so we have to put in a request for a spouse months or even years in advance. And we need further permission to order a child. It costs a small fortune, so most of us don’t even bother any more. I figured I’d never have a family. Of course, now they’re scrambling to try to figure out what to do about Meshing. It’s wrecking everyone’s plans.”
“That’s sad,” Zoya said. “Didn’t you have any dreams at all for your future?”
“I tried not to think about it much, just focused on my degree. Designing new kinds of nanobots is fascinating. I used to dream of all kinds of crazy things I might be able to make them do.”
It seemed to Zoya that Marcus meant to go on talking, but he suddenly stood up instead and walked over to the large smartwaiter.
“I wonder if this works like ours back home or if this is only for the bots?” he said.
Zoya shrugged. She’d heard of smartwaiters but had only seen one once, a small one in a medical office. If the American wanted to play with it, she figured he was welcome to it.
Marcus stared at stainless steel door. “I’d like to order lunch, please,” he said. Nothing happened. He looked at Zoya. “How do you activate these things here?”
“I’m sorry, I have no idea.”
«Father?»
«Might as well, you seem safe enough for the moment. Tell me what you want and I’ll relay the order.»
“You want anything to eat or drink?” Marcus asked Zoya.
Zoya got an inscrutable look on her face. “Umm, okay, how about some bread, salami, cheese. Oh, and water…cold water.”
«You got that, Papa? And if they can do it, I’d like pepperoni pizza and some ice cold Pepsi.»
«I’ll see if they can do that for you.»
«And an empty pan or jar or something, too.»
«What?»
«My bladder’s about to burst and there’s no place to go here.» It was all Marcus could do not to bob in place. He clutched one hand to his abdomen to try to relieve some of the pressure.
«Got it. I’ll tell it to hurry.»
«Thanks.»
«Sure. Look, I’ll give you a little time here since I’m sure you need it, but then I have to get you out of here and safely to your apartment.»
«Yeah, as long as you help her as well.»
«We’ll see, if it doesn’t hinder getting you away from here.»
Javier’s mention of the apartment made Marcus remember the traveling bag. «Papa, I forgot the bag in the car!» With your DNA samples…
There was silence for a few seconds and Marcus began to think his father wasn’t going to answer.
«It’s okay,» Javier said. «I spoke with the driver—he’s shot in the leg by the way—and he says the bag is fine. He’ll have Diplomatic Security drop it off in your room.»
«Hey…did you have your dinner with Mama?»
«Of course I did. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.»
«How is she?»
«She’s happy. Her friends are good company for her. I haven’t told her what we’re doing.»
Marcus walked back to Zoya and sat down. He now needed to go so badly he couldn’t help but rock back and forth with his arms around his knees. �
��Father placed the order for us.”
“Are you okay?” Zoya asked. “You don’t look well.”
“It’s embarrassing,” he replied.
“What is?”
“I…I have to go to the bathroom really badly.”
Zoya grimaced. “Now that you mention it, so do I.”
Marcus nodded and grinned.
“What?”
“I was thinking this day was like some of the action vids I’ve seen, but then no one ever talks about such things. Heroes never need to pee, I guess.”
Zoya gave a wan smile and rubbed a sleeve across her smoke-blackened brow. “Heroes, huh? Is that what you imagine we are?”
“Oh no, not me. I meant you.”
“Ha! Not a hero,” Zoya said. “I’ve…I’ve done terrible things…become a murderer.”
“Don’t say that! You didn’t choose for any of this to happen, did you? You could be dead by now if you hadn’t killed that man.”
Zoya’s face paled even beneath the grime. “I killed another man at my friend’s apartment.”
Marcus didn’t know what to say.
“And I was glad that I did it,” Zoya continued, staring down at the floor. “I’ve hated violence my whole life, but now all I want to do is find and kill the rest of these—pardon my language—these bastards.”
It struck Marcus as funny that in such a situation Zoya would still worry about the words she used. At the same time, he was chilled by the matter-of-fact expression on her face as she spoke. “You want to hunt them down? These guys are coldhearted killers.”
She turned her lovely gaze on Marcus and it was all he could do not to look away. “They took everything from me. I have nothing left. I’m going to return the favor, if I can.”
The door to the smartwaiter slid open.
“Yes,” Marcus cried and leaped to his feet. There was nothing but a yellow plastic pitcher on a tray. Marcus snatched it and turned to Zoya. “Food must not be ready yet.”
“Is that the water? I’m dying for a drink.”
Marcus turned the pitcher upside-down. “I asked for this so I could, uh, relieve myself.”
“Good thinking. You go first.”
Marcus moved to a spot where the pile of bags granted a small amount of privacy, then looked back at Zoya. “Can you, umm…”
“Of course.” Zoya turned away from him.
Despite the awkward situation, nothing had ever felt so good in his life as relieving the incredible pressure. Afterward, Marcus moved to the far side of the room to give Zoya as much privacy as possible. When Zoya indicated she was finished, Marcus returned. He noticed she had left the pitcher in the corner behind the bags. He considered putting it back on the smartwaiter, but decided it probably wasn’t a good idea.
“Marcus?”
He looked at Zoya. “Hmm?”
“If it’s so hard for your type of citizen to marry, how did your parents manage?”
Marcus was taken aback for a moment. He assumed everyone used history chips and knew at least the basics of what had happened during the Dark Times and the aftermath. “Well, it was a completely different world back then.” He mentally did the math to the year his parents met and placed it around 2112. “Pieces of the country were reforming under various warlords from the Dark Times. America West had no capital at that point, and the Mormons were just like the rest of us. The Web was dead then, so there was no Meshing. Father was conducting tests on his sentry code in order to revive the Web. Slot interfaces were new—clunky things that were visible outside the skin, and with no Web all they were good for were things like education, monetary transactions, entertainment, and such.”
The smartwaiter door slid open again and this time it had their food and drink. Zoya leapt up and grabbed the bottle of water.
“I’m so thirsty!” She drained the bottle in one long swig.
Marcus was disappointed with his pizza. Rather than pepperoni, there was some sort of salami on it. “You don’t know what pepperoni is in Russia?” he said, and with a sigh he picked up his plate and the cup of Pepsi and returned to his seat of bags. “And no ice! What good is Pepsi without ice?”
Zoya gathered the cheese, roll of salami, and baton of bread and sat near Marcus. “I should have asked for a knife,” she said and took a bite of bread.
“I should have thought of that myself,” Marcus said. He took a bite of pizza. It wasn’t great, but it was better than he had thought it would be.
“You didn’t tell me how they met,” Zoya said.
Marcus finished chewing. “Well, my mother’s family had been in Phoenix for ages. Father was a refugee from California and—”
“Refugees like ours?” Zoya said. “From the plague?”
“The swine flu pandemic?” Marcus said. “I imagine that played a role, but in California it was a combination of the rising ocean levels and the two huge earthquakes that really did it. Phoenix was already the largest city by size in the country, and it grew by almost half from all the refugees. I remember Papa saying drinking water was heavily rationed. So he was working in a university lab and my mother was—”
«Marcus! »
«Papa?»
«Building security has started checking door to door down the corridor. You need to move now!»
Marcus slapped his forehead. «Okay, lead the way.»
«Damn! They’re moving fast. You may not have time to get out unnoticed now. Is there any place to hide in here?»
Marcus looked around the room, though he already knew there was no sufficient hiding spot.
“What’s wrong?” Zoya said.
“Security is coming. We need to do something.” He saw the smartwaiter, its door still open with the tray sitting in an aperture that often held big broken mechanical items and looked barely large enough to hold both of them. “This might be crazy, but let’s try it. Come on.”
“The smartwaiter? You’re kidding, right?” Zoya stuffed her bread, salami, and cheese into her pockets.
“What else can we do? If it won’t carry us, perhaps we can hide there.” He tossed the tray into the corner with the pitcher and clambered into the hole. He squeezed into a corner and held a hand out to Zoya. “Here, I think you can fit.”
Zoya grasped his hand and Marcus pulled her in with him. It was tight, but the door looked like it could slide shut.
«Papa? Can you get us out of here now?»
The smartwaiter door hissed down and everything went dark. Marcus normally hated the dark, but now his body felt electrified by the overwhelming feelings that washed through him—the heat and softness of Zoya’s trembling body pressed against his; the faint smell of her perfume mixed with smoke and perspiration; the sound of her breath. Then his stomach lurched as the smartwaiter suddenly dropped faster than any elevator. He felt Zoya tense.
“I think I’m going to vomit,” she whispered.
“Just hold on.” Without thinking about it, he hugged her tighter.
The plunge seemed to last forever, though it couldn’t have been longer than a minute before it slid to a stop.
“Thank God,” Zoya murmured, a hint of panic in her voice.
The door slid open to reveal a dimly lit room as small as the coat closet in Marcus’s apartment. The walls were painted an off-shade of red. Zoya slid out onto the floor and Marcus took a couple deep breaths and joined her.
“More fire bots,” Zoya said, indicating six silvery bots in racks on either side of the exit door.
«Is it safe to go out, Papa?»
«I don’t know. This is the lobby level. This door opens next to the banks of elevators, and there are exit doors in all four directions.»
«I guess that’ll have to do.»
Marcus looked at Zoya and saw that she was pale and her dark hair was slicked to her forehead. “Are you okay? The building exit is right out here.”
She nodded. “Let’s go. I want out of this place.”
«All right, Papa, open the door.»
The door slid to the side. It took a couple seconds for Marcus’s eyes to adjust to the brighter lights of the elevator lobby. He saw about a dozen people either walking through the lobby or waiting for elevators. Corridors ran in all four directions, each leading to glass exit doors. Sunlight glittered on the glass of the doors straight ahead. He began to walk that way, but Zoya grabbed his hand.
“Not that way. We need to go east,” she said.
“What does it matter?” he asked, following her lead. “We just need a taxi.”
“This way is a smaller street. They’ll be less likely to be—”
Zoya crashed to a halt and Marcus ran into her. He was about to ask what was wrong, but then he saw it. Two men stood across the corridor, leaning against the wall. One of them was enormous. The other’s eyes were bulging with surprise as they looked directly at Zoya.
“Run!” Zoya yelled.
Marcus’s feet seemed plastered to the floor, and Zoya’s hand jerked hard against his as she tried to pull him along with her. The smaller man punched the huge one in the arm and then started to run toward them.
Pain blazed in Marcus’s face as Zoya slapped him. “Now!” she screamed.
Marcus could move again. He ran after Zoya, still holding tight to her hand. Other people kept getting in their way, some of them shouting incomprehensible words. He saw Zoya glance back over her shoulder, her eyes widened.
“This way,” she cried, jerking him toward a doorway that loomed on the left.
Marcus just had time to wonder why they couldn’t have made it to the exit before he followed Zoya into the gloom of a cavernous room. Lots of small tables and chairs lined the edges of the room, but there were no people that Marcus could see. The center of the room was a large empty space with a hard floor, and across the way was a long bar lined with stools. A club? he thought. Zoya ran straight through the dance floor with Marcus close on her heels.
«Why didn’t you warn us about them, Papa?»
«I lost their signals some time ago, so they must have turned off their wireless. I hadn’t seen their faces. I’d only spoken with them. I had no way of recognizing them through the cameras, and voice recognition software is iffy at best, especially in crowded areas.»