The Blind Spot

by Michael Robertson

  “Is this man bothering you, sir?”

  The obsolete’s hollow eyes pleaded with Nick. Should it be a crime to be hungry? And surely he’d paid the price for his previous wrongdoings. Why still punish him? But if they thought Nick sided with the obsoletes … “Yes, officer. He’s begging. I pay a lot of money to live in this sector. I wouldn’t expect to have to deal with scum like this on the streets.”

  “We apologise, sir. Consider the matter dealt with, and we’ll make a note of your complaint.”

  Nick nodded at the officers and walked away. Although he didn’t turn back around, the buzz of a Taser told him everything he needed to know. The hum of the two scooters left. His stomach in knots, he kept his focus ahead. No doubt they’d take the obsolete somewhere he wouldn’t ever return from.

  Cold dread plummeted through Nick when he walked up his driveway. What was Bruce’s car doing here? He shook his head and laughed it off. He shouldn’t be so paranoid. Bruce had paid him a visit. That had to be a good thing, right? A half day and he’d come home to find his buddy at his house.

  The gravel crunched beneath Nick’s steps. “It’s great that Bruce and Karla are such good friends. I’m so lucky to have them around, and to have them get on so well is a blessing.” The laptop had been on Bruce’s back seat, so he’d lied to him earlier. But Bruce would have a good reason for being here. He shouldn’t jump to any conclusions.

  As Nick got closer to the kitchen window, he walked on tiptoes. He let go of a relieved sigh, which turned into a large cloud of condensation. Karla and Bruce were sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. No doubt coffee loaded with milk and cream. His mouth watered and he smiled. If he had to feel jealous about anything, better that than the unthinkable.

  Clumsy with his keys on purpose, Nick opened the door and walked into the house to the smiles of the two people he cared for the most. His mum and dad were still alive, but he’d given up on them when they gave up on him, packing him off to boarding school the second he got old enough. Karla and Bruce both had a slight flush to their faces. Embarrassment? Physical exercise?

  “Uh … Nick,” Bruce said while closing his laptop. “We weren’t—”

  More composed than his friend, Karla’s predatory blue eyes pinned Nick to the spot. “We weren’t expecting you home.”

  “I wasn’t expecting it either. Stuart’s such a great boss. He said I could go home early.” Then to Bruce, “I told you he’d notice all the extra hours I put in. This was his way of saying thanks.”

  Bruce smiled.

  “So, what are you two up to?”

  Several shades redder, Bruce turned to Karla, reaching across and placing his hand over hers. “We’re—”

  “Planning a surprise for your birthday,” Karla interjected, pulling her hand away.

  Bruce’s jaw fell ever so slightly, his eyes widening. But it could have been Nick’s paranoia. Searching for lies when there were none.

  “We didn’t want to tell you,” Bruce added, clearly finding his stride.

  Karla’s diary lay open on the table. She snapped it shut. “We were writing everything down. We want to keep it a secret from you and the Wellbeing app. I love having the app and the lifts in the morning”—did Nick just see a glance between Bruce and Karla?—“but it’s awful when you want to keep something quiet.”

  Like an affair? No, they wouldn’t do that to him.

  “Anyway,” Bruce said as he got up to leave, his coffee still steaming and mostly full. It had been made in Nick’s favourite mug. “I’d better be off,” he said. On his way past Nick, he patted him on the shoulder. “See you for cricket tomorrow?”

  Nick nodded.

  Karla stood up too. “I’ll see you out. We have a couple of bits we still need to discuss.”

  As Karla left the room, the scent of her perfume remained. She had her leather trousers on. She often wore them, and they were so tight they gave her the arse of a twenty-one-year-old, but why had she chosen to wear them today when Bruce visited? The clasp at the back hung open. It could have happened when she’d been sitting down. She might have just recently put them on. But she always got up and dressed first thing. And she’d already gotten dressed when Nick left that morning. She certainly hadn’t been wearing them then.

  Chapter 15

  Hard to ignore the gun in her face, Marcie gulped a hot and dry breath. Thick black bags sat beneath the hacker’s red glare. “You’re not going down, I promise. I have no intention of telling my dad what you’ve done to help me.”

  The gun twitched as an extension of him. He moved in fits and starts as if the electronics around them interfered with his genetics. “And I should trust that?”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “I’m the one holding the gun.”

  Despite his words, he lowered his weapon ever so slightly. The dealer remained sprawled on the floor, his spilled blood dragging streaks down the wall above him. “He had to go. Not only did he put me in this situation, which is cause enough for me to end him, but the fewer people who know I’ve helped Wrench’s daughter, the better. His death is on you as much as it’s on me.”

  The dealer’s yellow mirrored glasses sat askew on his face, revealing one of his green eyes. The glow had faded.

  After lowering his gun, the hacker scratched his head like a demented rabbit before he tapped several buttons on his washing machine. His focus on the dead dealer, he returned Marcie’s card. “I hadn’t completed the charge. Good job, eh? It would have been hard explaining that to Pierre the Credit. Audits don’t happen often, but you can bet your arse the second I don’t want one is the second they turn up with their fine-tooth combs. You should really think through the consequences of your actions.”

  “I did.” Marcie removed her anonymity mask and slipped it into her handbag. “I just didn’t expect you to get all trigger-happy.”

  “You could have just asked for my help, you know?”

  “And you would have given it to me?”

  “Shit no, but you could have asked.”

  Marcie nodded at the scrap of paper in the hacker’s hand. Angie Sneech’s address. “So …”

  The hacker let out a small whine of reluctance. Blood red irises, he shook his head. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “You’re the one with the gun.”

  “Yeah, right. You’ve well and truly called my bluff, kid. Not even I’d shoot Wrench’s daughter.”

  “Can you stop calling me that, please?”

  “What? You want to remain hidden behind the mask so you can blackmail my friends too?”

  “You don’t seem like the kind to have friends.”

  The hacker drew a breath and opened his mouth, but he clearly thought better of replying.

  “I don’t want to tell my dad anything. You hand that slip of paper over and I won’t.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “You don’t.” The small space had screens everywhere, a low hum emanating from the amount of electricity running through it.

  The hacker tutted and gave her the address. “What do you want that information for anyway?”

  Maybe he didn’t have a right to ask, but she owed him the truth at least. “My dad killed her.”

  Another twitch snapped the hacker’s head to one side. “Like he’s going to kill me?” He raised his gun again. “You know what, I’m not going to get out of here alive, so I might as well send a message.”

  “Calm down, please.”

  “Calm down? Your dad loves to kill people. Bad enough that I violated the privacy of someone, although someone from Scala City is less important than someone from the Blind Spot, but I’ve just given his daughter information he probably doesn’t want her having. If I’m going to die, you’re going to die with me.”

  “Dad killed this woman”—she held up the slip of paper—“because she tried to bring surveillance into the Blind Spot.”

  He lowered his gun for a second time.

&nbs
p; “I want her address because I want to know why she risked her life. I want to know who’s trying to start a war between the Blind Spot and the city.”

  “Why didn’t you ask your dad to ask me?”

  “Because then he’d know I intend to go into the city.”

  “And he doesn’t want you leaving the Blind Spot?”

  “Technically, he didn’t say that.”

  “Technically?”

  “He said anyone from the Blind Spot in Scala City risks imprisonment.”

  “And you don’t care?”

  “I want to stop a war. Besides, they don’t know who I am in Scala City. They’re not looking for me. I’m genuinely sorry I’ve used you to get the information.”

  A nod at the dead dealer in the corner, the hacker said, “Say that to him. You haven’t gotten me killed. Yet.”

  “And I won’t.”

  “I hope not.”

  “If my dad finds out I’m going to this woman’s house, I’ll be in as much trouble as you.”

  “He’ll kill you too, will he?”

  “If you’re so paranoid,” Marcie said, “why did you give me the information?”

  “If I’m honest?”

  Marcie nodded.

  “I let my ego get the better of me. And curiosity.”

  “What?”

  “I knew something was odd about the request and the number of credits you were willing to pay. I wanted to know more, and I thought I’d be able to cover up whatever I needed to so it didn’t come back to me.” He looked at the dealer’s corpse. “I also trusted his word. We’ve known each other a long time.”

  A few seconds passed before Marcie said, “I have to ask.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “You don’t even know what it is.”

  “I don’t care. I’ve given you enough information.”

  “What’s the Pandora hack?”

  The electric hum seemed to grow louder. “You know about the Wellbeing app?”

  “Yep.”

  “Crazy, right? They’re all on it in the city. Well, the Pandora hack lets the user hear everything said about them, not just the good things.” Pride forced him rigid. “I invented it.”

  “So that’s why it’s called the Pandora hack?”

  “Exactly. You’d be surprised how many people want to open the box. But, like in the myth, it can’t be closed again. Well, not without a cost.”

  “A cost?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  She didn’t push it. “I’m Marcie,” she said while holding her hand out to him.

  “I know.” He looked at her gesture of friendship. “I’m the Eye.”

  “Thank you for your help. I promise this won’t come back to you.”

  As he levelled his crimson stare on her, he said, “I really hope not.”

  Chapter 16

  “You’re sure they can’t see you?” Sal hissed in Marcie’s ear as if he had to whisper too.

  “Yeah.” The slip of paper from the Eye in her hand, she stood close to Angie Sneetch’s house, but not so close she’d arouse suspicion. Just another Scala citizen going about her day. Conscious of every word being recorded, she said, “Besides, it doesn’t matter if they do. There’s nothing to see.”

  The winter sun, although setting for the day, justified Marcie’s blue reflective glasses, covering the only feature that made her stand out as a Blind Spot resident.

  “Didn’t Wrench say no one from the Blind Spot should be out in the city now.” Click, whir.

  “Not explicitly.”

  “Not explicitly?”

  “He said they’d be recognised. But I don’t have to worry about that.”

  “It sounds to me like you’re reading between the lines.”

  “I’ve been imprisoned for nearly half my life. Now he’s given me freedom, I won’t let him lock me up again. Now, I assume I can trust you to keep these trips to yourself?”

  Click, whir. Sal then said, “She must have been really poor.”

  The loud hum of hover cars ran overhead, their bass notes bouncing off the tower blocks flanking the busy skylane. “Tell me about it.” A tiny apartment at the bottom of one of the vast towers. At least she lived at the bottom. If a lift broke and you lived at the top of one of these places, it would be a long way to carry your shopping. Angie’s apartment had two windows and a front door. An almost perfect square, her home looked like it had been designed by a child. It had maybe one room, two at the most. Three of them lived there. “It must have been hard to turn down what I guess would have been a lucrative offer.”

  “But she had to be punished,” Sal said. “If you let one person bring surveillance into the Blind Spot without delivering swift and harsh justice, you show the others you’re soft.”

  “You sound like your dad.”

  “Or yours.”

  “Fair.”

  “I just want this nonsense to stop,” Marcie said. “It would be nice to have harmony between the two places.”

  “So you can move into the city?”

  “So we can move.”

  “I think it’s about time both of us faced the truth. I can’t leave the Blind Spot. It was a fantasy—” click, whir “—nothing more.”

  It was the first time he’d said that. With Marcie closer than ever to moving because her dad had given her a choice, maybe it had become more real for him too, and he had to accept what he believed to be reality. “We’ll find a way.”

  “I don’t think we will, and I need to be honest with myself. With you.”

  Angie’s front door had been left open. Even over the hum of traffic above, the sobbing of two small children called across the street.

  When an older gentleman walked into the house, Sal said, “Who do you think that is?”

  “A grieving relative. Maybe her dad.”

  Then an older lady appeared.

  “Her mum?” Sal asked.

  “Maybe. I feel like I should be doing more for the family. Helping in some way.” A CCTV drone flew overhead, a warning flashing through Marcie’s eyes, but it continued on its way. “So I am invisible at the moment.”

  “I think you’re insane coming here as it is. Especially now. But remember you came here to find out more about the terrorists. It’s sad that this woman’s left people behind, but she made a choice to come into the Blind Spot with the equipment. Besides, what can you do? The daughter of Wrench, you’re still invisible, but if you make yourself too known here, you’ll be locked up and left to rot. You ain’t Scala City’s best friend right now. They might not know who you are, but you stick your nose in too much, and they’ll soon work it out.”

  A woman in her forties approached the house. She wore a suit similar to Marcie’s. Black trousers, a matching fitted jacket, a shirt. Although, where Marcie had opted for flats, this woman added at least three inches to her height with red stiletto heels. Her precise strides had a clipped tension to them. Stressed, but not grieving.

  “She’s obviously done okay for herself,” Sal said. “She looks to be from a higher social class. A sister maybe?”

  “I bet she was beautiful twenty years ago.”

  “She’s beautiful now.”

  Sal’s comment shouldn’t have bothered Marcie, but heat filled her cheeks all the same. “Look, I need to get out of here. I think you’re right, this is a lost cause. Why would anyone with anything to hide show themselves? Especially now.”

  “I’m glad. I worry about what you’re doing. Just stick to running through the city. So where next? I can’t see you climbing the Apollo Tower in that gear.”

  “We need more help at the house.”

  “An obsolete?”

  “Right. It’ll show what I’ve done with my day should Dad ask.”

  “That’s a good idea. At least I can tell my dad something too. They might be okay with you out in the city still, but they’ll kill us if they know we’re getting involved in this terrorist bullshit.”

  As mu
ch as he might have wanted to keep their trip to himself, Sal would tell his dad. Marcie couldn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut.

  Many of the obsoletes resided in the same place: beneath the main bridge running over Scala City’s only river. It had earned the name Obsolete Bridge for that very reason. Seven lanes wide, the huge highway had little use as a road since vehicles had taken to the sky. It now had offices running along both edges and a walkway down the centre.

  Many parts of Scala City had been overdeveloped, but the dark and damp spot beneath the bridge had little commercial appeal, so they left it to the obsoletes.

  Thank god Marcie had worn flats. The riverbank to get to the bridge was far too steep for heels. Maybe her legs would have helped her cope like they did now, spasms and twitches firing off beneath her skin. There were no drones in the sky, so she ducked into the shadows before one appeared.

  “How do you come down here? With what happened to your mum, I mean.”

  The question pulled on Marcie’s spirit like the boggy ground tugged on her feet. “Mum wouldn’t have blamed all of them for the actions of one. It was such a rare case, and she believed in redemption. I’m sure most of them were good people before they were processed.”

  “They must have done something wrong—” click, whir “—for the city to wipe them out.”

  Hundreds of pairs of eyeballs fixed on Marcie. They had the haunted stares of nocturnal animals. The cold found its way into her bones, snapping a chill through her. It must have been worse for them. Not a hair on their bodies and little more than skeletons draped in a thin layer of skin. “That’s assuming the system is just.”

  “Even if it’s not, how does your dad allow them into your house?”

  “He locks them away at night.”

  “Them?”

  “Okay, he locks me away at night so they can’t get to me. He’s honouring Mum’s wishes to still help them. He sees it as the only way to keep me safe too.”