The Blind Spot

by Michael Robertson

  “Why didn’t my night vision work?”

  “I block off all enhancements in my workshop so they don’t interfere with my equipment. Apart from the anonymity masks—I want those from Scala City to know they can come here to have the Pandora hack fitted.”

  “I think you’re paranoid and don’t want to give your visitors the upper hand.”

  “Of course I am. And rightly so. Look, you can come out. Just don’t look back, okay?”

  Marcie pressed off against the sandbags and climbed the stairs, her legs automatically keeping her steady.

  Close to the top, the Eye reached down and grabbed her hand. A tight grip, he pulled her closer.

  About to step from the basement, Marcie looked back. Before she could scream, the Eye silenced her by clapping his hand across her mouth.

  Chapter 32

  Thank god Adam had been there for Nick that morning. Always a good listener and a great friend. One of his suggestions had been exercise to take Nick’s mind off things. When he entered the gym, the wall of pop music with a heart-attack BPM certainly did that. It took all he had to not turn around there and then, the bassline thud derailing his pulse and sending the threat of a headache streaking through his eyeballs. But he’d come here to improve himself. And he’d paid his monthly membership for years now, so he might as well make the most of it.

  Twenty black exercise pods ran down either side of the long and narrow room. Each one a personal fitness suite, and each one about the size of a small office. Two slim women in Lycra approached Nick. He pulled his shirt away from his stomach and stood aside. Lost in their conversation as they passed, they paid him no mind. And why would they? Other than a physical barrier between them and their workout, he didn’t exist.

  Although the women had passed Nick together, and they might well have been friends, their conversation hadn’t been with one another, and it hadn’t been a conversation. Each paused to let the other speak, but their words were directed at the Wellbeing app. It revealed their age, harkening back to the early days where the app worked much better when you were the only person talking. Its technology had improved immeasurably since then. It could now pick out the buzzing of a fly’s wings at a rock concert.

  Hopefully someone would be sending lifts into the air about Nick right now. He’d check after the workout. A little reward for the physical exercise. Dressed in shorts and a T-shirt that had been looser the last time he wore them—a musty smell embedded in the fabric from where they’d been in a bag beneath his desk for several months—he leaned close to the retina scanner on the outside of a pod. It reeked of stale sweat, and he did his best to keep his face away from the black rubber mask. He pressed his thumb against the print scanner, wiping it on his trouser leg as the booth door opened with a hiss of hydraulics. He’d bring antibacterial wipes next time.

  From the outside, the pods appeared to be relatively small, but they housed two workout stations. The last person had set this one up with a treadmill and rowing machine. A lemony scent in the air, one of the city’s cleaners still worked over the rowing machine with her cloth and spray.

  Nick stepped onto the treadmill, and the cleaner still hadn’t looked up. Some people might have been comfortable working out in front of her, but he’d chosen an exercise pod for a reason. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, you’ve done a fine job, but …”

  The woman smiled at him before continuing to clean.

  And they wondered why they got treated like shit. “Can you please fuck off?”

  The smile fell, the woman’s features dropping with it. She quickly jumped to her feet and scurried out of the pod, the door closing behind her.

  His breathing already irregular from their interaction, Nick tried to settle himself as he said, “Seaside.” His surroundings changed, the black walls altering his environment and giving him a view for miles. A fresh sea breeze countered the effect of the hot sun.

  The smell and taste of salt in the air, Nick said, “Change rowing machine for cross trainer.”

  As the rowing machine vanished into the floor, Nick started the treadmill and turned it up to five miles per hour. More than fast enough. He didn’t want to have a heart attack.

  Nick’s heavy steps slammed against the belt with loud booms. Powerful thick legs, strong calves, he marched with purpose. They say exercise cures depression. Time to find out.

  As the cross trainer rose up through the floor, Nick upped his speed by three miles per hour. Adam was right, he did feel better.

  Chapter 33

  A full five minutes after he’d finished on the treadmill, Nick remained in the pod, hunched over while he gasped for breath. The nausea had now passed and the dizziness gone. He finally had it in him to walk to the changing rooms. The heavy dance music flooded in when he opened the door, his legs wobbly with every step. Sure, he felt like shit, but he’d entered the pod feeling like death.

  Falling through the changing room door, still sweating faster than he could wipe it away, Nick halted. Had they not made eye contact, he would have turned back around and left.

  “Hi, Nick!” Graham said. Dressed in just a pair of pants, he stood proud with his six-pack and brilliant white smile.

  Nick tugged his T-shirt away from his sweating body while continuing to regulate his breathing. At his locker, he pressed his finger to the scanner and his face to the mask.

  “I heard you working out when I passed your pod,” Graham said.

  “All right, boy! I know I’m out of shape. You don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

  “You sounded like you were really pushing yourself. I was going to say well done. It takes a lot of mental strength to come to the gym.”

  “Don’t be such a condescending prick.”

  As Graham’s chin dropped, Nick turned his back on the boy, retrieved his phone, and put his headphones in while starting the Wellbeing app. His stomach twisted when Bruce’s name flashed up. He pressed play.

  “Nick’s a good man. He deserves to be happy in everything he does.”

  The insincerity damn near choked Nick. He flicked it onto the next lift. Karla this time; they must have been together. Probably lying in bed next to one another. Post-coital, no doubt they found some form of guilt in their dark hearts and thought this would somehow alleviate it.

  “He’ll make someone a lovely husband …”

  But just not someone as pretty as her was what she meant. Or successful. Arrogant bitch.

  Eight more lifts, and they hadn’t made it to lunchtime yet. Adam, then Jane, then Michelle … Most of the people from work left him nice messages. Not Graham though. After he’d removed his headphones, he glared at the boy. At least he’d put his fucking clothes on.

  “I still don’t get why you use that cursed app.”

  “Do you have friends?” Nick said.

  “I have plenty of friends, thank you. I just don’t need them to talk about me when we’re apart. I don’t need other people’s insincere approval to make me feel better about myself.”

  “Most people in this society think it’s nice to hear kind things spoken about you.”

  “Most people might think it’s a delicacy to eat dog shit—”

  “Your point is?”

  “That I won’t make a decision based on what most people think if it’s counter to my well-being.”

  Nick balled his fists, which Graham glanced down at. “What are you?” Nick finally said. “Some kind of Pandora freak? Because if you are, we don’t employ people who use that crap.”

  “How can I be a Pandora freak if I don’t use the Wellbeing app?”

  Nick ground his teeth.

  “Although,” Graham continued, “I think if people used the Pandora hack, it would keep them much more grounded than the filtered bullshit they listen to through that thing.” He pointed at Nick’s phone. “It’s okay if people don’t like you. That’s people’s right, and whether they share it with you or not is also their right. Look at us, we’re colleagues and that�
��s okay. It doesn’t need to be anything else. We don’t need to blow smoke up each other’s arses to get on, and we don’t need to take each other down. We can exist in the same space together just fine.”

  A snort, Nick raised an eyebrow at Graham. “You think we get on?”

  “As much as we need to. I don’t come to work looking for a best mate, do you?”

  “No.” Maybe he replied a bit too quickly. And with Bruce now gone from his life, maybe that was exactly what he came to work for.

  Before Nick could say anything else, Graham leaned forward and patted his shoulder. “Anyway, colleague, see you back at work.”

  The lifts on the Wellbeing app utterly invalidated by the interaction, Nick watched Graham walk out of the changing room with a skip in his step. Is that what a life without the Wellbeing app looked like?

  Chapter 34

  “I needed to put him somewhere,” the Eye said, leaning so close to Marcie his breath tickled her ear. He kept his hand clamped over her mouth. “How else am I to hide a corpse in the Blind Spot?”

  While turning her away from the hatch, the Eye flung it closed, catching the door with his foot to prevent it slamming shut. “I’m going to take my hand away now, but I need you to keep your head, okay?”

  She nodded.

  The Eye walked around in front of her. “I don’t know what to do with a dead body. I’m not a serial killer. You think I like sleeping in here with that down there?”

  Several deep breaths, her heart still running on overdrive, Marcie finally said, “How did it go with Pierre?”

  “Fine.”

  “And you removed my payment from the washing machine?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” From the spread of his crimson orbs, the Eye managed his own battle with his nerves.

  “I suppose we’re in this together now,” Marcie said. “Whether we like it or not.”

  “Looks that way.”

  Marcie thrust her hand towards him.

  He looked down at it, pausing as if to consider his next move. He shook his head and ruffled her hair. “You’re all right, kid. I hope I can trust you.”

  “You can, and I could do with a friend right about now.”

  “I didn’t say we were friends.”

  The words cut to her heart and Marcie’s jaw fell slack.

  “I’m joking. So you’re really trying to stop this war between the city and the Blind Spot?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “And you think you can?”

  “If I can’t, no one can.”

  “You’ve got a rather high opinion of yourself.”

  “They don’t know who I am in the city, which means I can go out there without being arrested and hopefully get to the bottom of this. I’m the only one around the top table with that kind of anonymity.”

  “I can’t imagine your dad likes the idea of that.”

  “I’m not telling him. And I don’t know who else to trust because someone in the Blind Spot is working with the terrorists.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I found a replica gold bolt at the cinema. Someone’s trying to make it look like my dad’s been there.”

  “Well, if I can be of any help at all, let me know.”

  “You can.”

  “Wow, you don’t hold back!”

  “You did just offer.”

  “So who do you suspect in the Blind Spot?”

  “I’m not ready to say because I’m not certain. Also, I need to find out who they’re dealing with in the city. I’ve seen the same woman both at Angie’s house and running away from the cinema.”

  “Coincidence?”

  “Maybe. Have you seen the footage of the attack on the cinema?”

  “Yep.”

  “There’s a fat black man running away with a blonde woman. Even in heels she’s faster than him.”

  “And that’s the woman?”

  “Yeah. Now I don’t know if she’s done anything, but I also don’t have any other leads.”

  “I’ll look at the footage again.”

  “Thank you. And before I leave, I have a question.”

  “Wow, really doubling down on this new friendship, aren’t you?”

  “What’s the price people have to pay to reverse the Pandora hack?”

  The pale man somehow turned paler and he pressed his lips tightly together.

  “Okay,” Marcie finally said, “don’t tell me, then. See you around.” At least she’d made a friend she could talk to. It was just a shame that friendship had started with someone’s death. “Oh, and get rid of that body.”

  When Marcie got a few streets from the Eye’s workshop, she stepped into a new alley, froze, and then pulled immediately back into the shadow of the one she’d left. Her hand shielding her glowing eyes so she didn’t blow her cover, she watched Frankie Fingers enter the same engineer’s workshop she’d seen Jean leave when she talked about FGM. What seemed clear, however, was Jean’s mistrust of the engineer, like he might do anything for money. Would he make replica gold bolts?

  A message flashed across her eyes from her dad. MEETING AT THE TOP TABLE IN THREE HOURS’ TIME. BE THERE! Maybe she had to call Frankie out now before it went too far. Maybe she could make all of this nonsense stop if she told the others what she knew. Maybe they could find out who he was working with in the city. Maybe Sal would never speak to her again. But better that than the city marching through the Blind Spot, slaughtering everyone in their path.

  Chapter 35

  Were it not for her legs’ ability to carry her where she needed to go, Marcie wouldn’t have made the journey. A long and lonely walk, her stomach churning with every step, she entered the dark alleyway with the locked steel door at the end. Snow had fallen in flurries during the day although it hadn’t yet settled. Cold prickles tingled against her skin where the larger flakes landed and melted. At least when this ridiculous conflict between the city and the Blind Spot ended, she’d never have to do this walk again. But first she had to find the courage to call Frankie out as the rat.

  Marcie screamed when someone stepped from the shadows, their face a blur behind their anonymity mask. She dropped down into a hunch and raised her fists. She’d knock their fucking face off the second she could justify self-defence.

  The slack-jaw swayed as he looked her up and down. His words a slurred and distorted mess because of his intoxication and the mask. “You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?”

  Twitches ran the length of her arms, urging her to ball her fists. She could punch through steel if she needed to, but the Blind Spot relied on credits from cretins like this man. And he hadn’t yet given her the justification to attack a tourist.

  The man continued to sway as he leaned closer to her, one hand clamped to his crotch. “Hey! I’m talking to you, slut.”

  Quickened breaths, she clenched her jaw. “I’m only sixteen!”

  “Even better.”

  So caught up with the man’s nonsense, Marcie didn’t see the person behind her until a hand shot past her on her left. An open palm, they cuffed the man around the back of the head with a crack!

  The man kept his mask on by pressing it to his face with one hand while he rubbed the back of his head with the other. “I was just having a bit of fun with her.”

  Jean stepped so close to the man her nose nearly touched his mask. A delicate jaw with a clench tight enough to chew through bone. “You lot get away with most things in the Blind Spot, but not this. She’s a minor, you filthy bastard. If I see this kind of behaviour again, know I’ll cut your fucking balls off.”

  The man squared his shoulders and lifted his chest. “You won’t be here much longer anyway. Not when Scala City turn you to rubble.”

  Jean’s nostrils flared, her chrome thighs promising a kick that could send the pervert into orbit.

  Clearly appeasing his male pride, the man offered an impotent and distorted tut before he shoved past Jean and Marcie, swaying as he wan
dered off down the alley.

  Marcie smiled at the kind and beautiful woman. Not a replacement by any stretch, but the closest she’d had to a mother in a long time. “Am I glad to see you.”

  “Next time,” Jean said, a heavy frown creasing her brow as she watched the slack-jaw stumble away, “you have my permission to knock someone like that the fuck out. We need to look after tourists in the Blind Spot, but sometimes they go too far.”

  “Do you think he’s right?”

  “About what?”

  “About us not being here soon.”

  “I hope not, sweetie. I really hope not.”

  The cold mixed with Marcie’s adrenaline, sending a shudder through her. Jean put an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’s all over now.”

  She should tell Jean what she knew. She’d help her face Frankie. But before she got her words out, Jean slammed three blows against the door. She would have cracked the slack-jaw’s skull with an attack like that. It opened a second later, and Marcie followed her in.

  The Monk led the way up the stairs, Marcie next. She jumped when Jean laid her hand against her back, before relaxing into the woman’s support.

  Marcie and Jean were the last two to arrive. Frankie scowled like he always did. The glare dared her to rat him out.

  But when Marcie sat down, she saw a bandage wrapped around Frankie’s forearm. “What’s that?”

  She only realised she’d spoken over her dad when Wrench cleared his throat, the skin part of his face crimson. He looked at Frankie.

  Frankie straightened in his seat. “I was getting pains in my right wrist, so I went to an engineer today to get an upgrade.” Wincing as he did it, he pulled the bandage back to reveal the first phase of a cybernetic forearm.

  Marcie stared at the metal skeleton. Her dad nudged her. “Huh?”