End man, p.30
End Man, page 30
The secretary dropped to her knees in the oil, her eyes flooding with tears. “My Geo doesn’t deserve this.” She raised her arms imploringly. “Won’t someone help?” She scanned the End Man. Her eyes locked on Raphael.
“Thank god,” she cried.
Ms. Goloda stood up and slogged through the rising oil to Raphael. She threw her arms around his legs and raised her tortured face. “His door wouldn’t open. I tried.” She held up her bloodied fingers. “You’re brave. You’re strong. You must help him.”
“I-I can’t.”
“Geo will die and with him Matt.”
“Matt Tucker?”
“Mr. Maglio was interviewing him for your job. They’re trapped together. Go help them, you bastard!” Ms. Goloda pawed at his chest with her torn fingers.
Raphael wrenched himself from the secretary, smelled the now familiar gas, and turned to the pack of End Men. “Get the hell out of here, guys. There’s methane. We could have another explosion.”
As the other End Men retreated a few yards, Raphael started toward the building.
“Raphael, what are you doing?” yelled Akira.
“I’m going back inside.”
“For Maglio?”
Raphael felt for his Exacto knife. “For Matt.”
Raphael strode on toward the emergency exit, his heart pounding. He had set the widening disaster in motion. Maglio could go to hell, but he couldn’t leave Matt behind. As he entered the stairwell, the structure shook again. Walls split with dreadful screams and chunks of concrete pummeled him. Dodging a brick-sized piece that could have felled him on the spot, he held his hands above his head and climbed upward, oily shoes slipping and sliding. He fell twice, grunted and got back up. He had to climb. As he exited the stairwell on the third floor, Norval moaned like a trapped mammoth.
Upon reaching Goloda’s office, he located her remote and opened the door to the executive office hallway. He staggered down the zigzag passage to Maglio’s door, which proved locked. He dropped to his knees and dug his fingers into the jam.
“Come on,” he screamed, yanking and twisting. With a screech, the door gave way.
He entered Maglio’s office, its ceiling half collapsed, furniture upside down and artwork strewn about. Raphael’s heart sunk. Matt was stretched out face-down on the floor. Maglio’s tanning machine lay across his body.
Raphael dropped to his knees beside Matt. Ripping off Matt’s bracelet, he felt for his friend’s pulse Come on, come on. There, yes, not strong, but enough. Raphael grasped the tanner and lifted it a few inches before it slipped from his sweaty hands. He wiped his palms on his pants and tried again. He shifted position and grasped the bottom. He rolled the tanner off Matt. His colleague sucked in a lungful of air, groaned, and opened his eyes. “Oh, lordy, where am I?”
“Maglio’s office. There’s been—an event.”
Matt muttered. “I thought I was going to die.”
“It’s okay, buddy. I’ve got you.” He ran his hand down Matt’s legs. “Does anything feel broken?”
Matt wriggled his body. “Only everything. It’s kind of hard to breathe.”
“Yeah, the wind was knocked out of you.” Or broken ribs. From below came an angry roar as if from one of the beasts that once roamed the neighborhood.
“He lured me up here with food: sliced ahi tuna with mango, Szechuan chicken lettuce wraps, and honey-glazed pomegranate seeds. Man, it was wizard. But I told him I wouldn’t take the position, the anti-Blanking spot.” Matt drew a breath. “I mean, you’ve only been gone a couple of days.” Matt’s eyes grew big and watery. “I respect you, man.”
“Yeah, appreciated. We’ve got to get you out of here.”
“Boy, Maglio was pissed. That’s when he took off his clothes and stepped into the tanner.”
“The tanner?”
“I swear he must wear a trick suit. It just dropped to the floor. The last thing I saw was his wrinkly old ass. That’s when the earthquake hit. Jesus, it was crazy in here. I yelled, ‘Earthquake, Geo! We should get the hell out of here. It’s the real fucking thing.’ Then the lights went out.” Matt turned his head toward the tanner. “I told him, ‘Get out of the tanner, Geo.’” Matt sniffed. “You know what he told me? ‘I can’t. It’s stuck.’ Must have been an electronic lock, huh?”
“Yeah. Now, if it doesn’t hurt, I’m going to lift you from behind.” He slipped his hands under Matt’s armpits and hoisted.
Matt drew in several rapid breaths. “I told him to kick. Well, he kicked all right, but nothing happened, so he starts yelling over and over, ‘It’s not my time.’ I should have gotten my ass out of there. But I took a shot at getting it open—then wham, the floor falls out from under me, and I’m slammed by the Solarium.”
He eased Matt to his feet. “Can you stand by yourself?”
Matt held steady for an instant, but then swayed and collapsed, groaning in agony. “The pain’s in my chest.”
Raphael touched his shoulder. “It’s all right. I’ll carry you.”
“Aren’t you going to check on Geo?”
“No.” No noise was coming out of the tanner. Maglio could have died of a heart attack. Asphyxiation maybe. Raphael tapped the Exacto knife tucked in his waistband. Forget it, just get Matt out. You don’t need a souvenir.
But his heart raced. He dug his fingers under the lid of the tanner but did not find the resistance he expected. With one hand, he opened the tanner. With the other he drew out his Exacto knife.
The tanner was empty.
Raphael shoved the knife back beneath his waistband, and bent to Matt, who had closed his eyes and was moaning lowly. He grabbed him under his arms, hoisted, and dragged his inert body toward the door.
“Please set your little friend down.” Spine icing over, Raphael turned. The potted palm quivered as a naked Maglio emerged from behind it, phone in hand. “I was trapped in the tanner, but it sprung open when it fell.”
The building rocked.
Maglio ducked and shuffled sideways. With a shriek, a strip of ceiling peeled away and fell at Maglio’s feet. He kicked it, grunted, and strode to the window. “Is this your father’s plan?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, you know. Don’t play innocent.” Maglio faced Raphael. Digits scrolled down the cybernetic eye.
He wanted to look away from the eye, but its lure was too strong. He dragged Matt another foot, not leaving the eye for an instant.
Maglio walked over to his desk, sat down, and pulled open a drawer. “I told you to set Matt down. You and I have to talk.”
“Fuck you.”
“I spoke a few moments ago to your father. We’re close to a deal.”
“I’m happy for you.” Raphael dragged Matt another foot, eliciting a groan of pain from his friend.
Maglio smiled. “A perfect day to claim eternity. Please set him down, and we’ll talk.” He lifted a small black gun and pointed it at Raphael. “I’m happy to transition among the chaos, and so too will you.”
“Hey, don’t point that gun at him,” muttered Matt.
Maglio shifted the barrel to Matt. “Better?
“Um, no.”
“We’re allies,” said Maglio, letting the gun sway as if it were choosing its target.
Stick the Exacto into Maglio’s digital and pluck it out like an oyster from its shell. “You’re a murderer.”
“Christ, I offed a few criminals on the run. Where’s the sin in that?”
“The plane crash? The Toobyville Dam?”
“Crystal ball algorithms. Advance knowledge isn’t culpability. “
Raphael’s insides simmered. “You knew, but you did nothing.”
Maglio shrugged. “I release your data, and we get our afterlives.”
“Not interested.”
The building trembled. Matt’s face went chalk white. His eyelids fluttered, then closed.
“I’m waiting for a phone call from your father regarding the details. It should happen right about—” Maglio’s cell rang. He smiled into the screen. “Hello, Professor Klaes. Yes, I have located your son. I’ve provided him the gist of our deal. Yes, I hear you,” said Maglio. He nodded several times. “Yes, I know. Norval won’t get Personality Plus, but I will. I’ll get life everlasting. The company will have to make do with our current tech. Ready? I’m tingling with anticipation! Oh. I see.”
Maglio held his phone out to Raphael. “Your father wants to speak with you.”
“Not interested.”
“Catch.” Maglio tossed the phone. It landed face up on the floor. The familiar bearded face gazed up at him.
“I’m sorry, son,” said Klaes.
“Fuck you, Dad.”
“We’re ready,” said Klaes.
“For what?” demanded Raphael.
“Geo and I have made a deal. I have your data prepared to receive your consciousness.”
“Pass, Dad. I’m not transitioning to an AI.”
“When you are, you’ll thank me.”
“Should I have thanked you when a trio of your lesser AGIs sent your ex-stooge to bash in my head twenty minutes ago?”
“I tried to call you, but—”
“Right, no phone.”
“You see how close that was? If I don’t know when … They’ll send others. You’ll have to run, but you can’t run. Isn’t it better to fall into the arms of your father? To be with your sister when she rises? To have our family.”
He dismissed Klaes’s words, but the picture Klaes had painted held him. A sister. A father. It was all a fantasy, but if, if—“I’m not interested.” Raphael kicked the phone back to Maglio. He clasped Matt, lifted him, and dragged him closer to the door.
“Slow down,” Maglio picked up the phone, though the gun barrel never wavered, “or your friend will slow down forever.”
“Are you crazy? You and him, the AI—he’s out of the mind he doesn’t have.”
The building jerked. The paintings remaining on the walls sprung from their hooks like tossed playing cards. The floor cracked in a half-dozen places. One devoured Dali’s shattered Memory.
“Whoa,” said Maglio.
“I’m getting Matt out of here.”
Maglio shook his head. “Your father agreed to recreate me as a Personality Plus with consciousness. I gave him your data, so that you too will be a soulful Personality Plus. That’s the deal.” He turned the screen toward Raphael and propped it up on the desk.
“It was the only way, son,” said Klaes.
“I’m staying.”
“All is in readiness,” said Klaes from the screen. “This is the moment.”
Raphael shook his head. “You’re not real. I won’t be real either. None of us will exist.”
Maglio aimed the gun at Raphael. “Half-baked AIs will worship at our feet, and Stillflesh will worship at theirs.”
“What’s happening?” muttered Matt, opening his eyes.
Klaes held up his hands. “Let’s move on.”
Raphael sighed. “I don’t want to be a god.” Norval shuddered again and oil’s rich smell filled the air. Oil and methane.
“Do you think all I’ve done was for shits and giggles?” asked Geo.
“Suicide!” shouted a new voice. In the doorway stood Mr. Lean, face bright red, eyes bulging, and arms propped against the doorframe, ignoring Maglio’s nakedness. “Hundreds marching down the boulevard like they’re in a parade. Waving Norval Resurrection Policies like flags. Off to drown themselves in the sea like lemmings. Mass suicide!”
Maglio shook his head but looked toward the window. “What the hell are you talking about, Lean?”
“Your customers have had enough of this life; they want online eternity!”
Maglio growled. “Ridiculous. You can’t just make the first payment, then cash in on an afterlife.” Maglio’s brow furrowed. “Besides, I told Maisie to get that clause into contracts.” He shook his head, then let the gun drift toward Lean, then brought it back to Raphael.
“Look out the window,” cried Lean.
“Raphael, you’ll be with me and your sister for eternity,” said Klaes.
“I’m staying,” said Raphael.
Maglio shook the gun. “You won’t cheat me out of an afterlife. Obey your father.”
“Show me his face,” said Raphael.
Maglio turned the phone toward Raphael. His father’s face was as pale as his beard. Klaes’s lips trembled. Above the phone that held his father’s face, the barrel of the gun fixed itself on his heart. “No, Dad.”
Something clicked.
“I can’t say I’m not disappointed. We had so little time together. If I …” Klaes’s voice fell to a whisper. “Do you feel any love for me?”
It would be so easy. Just tell it what it wants to hear. “I can’t love someone that doesn’t exist.”
“No, well then, goodbye. Down the road, son.”
“Yeah, down the road …”
“What about me?” yelled Maglio.
“You’ll get yours,” said Klaes. “A deal is a deal.”
The screen went black. Maglio studied his phone. “You’ve screwed yourself out of an afterlife, Raphael, but I have one coming.” He gazed around the remains of this office. “Soon.”
“You’re getting what you want,” said Raphael. “Let me get Matt out of here.”
“In the spirit of the pharaohs, I want someone with me when I go. Someone to accompany me to that other life.”
“You asshole. He’ll simply die under the rubble. He won’t go anywhere.”
Mr. Lean hopped twice. “I don’t know what jiggery-pokery you’ve gotten yourself into, Mr. Maglio, but if you want a peek at bankruptcy, better look out your widow.” Mr. Lean thrust a finger toward the window.
Keeping his weapon pointed at Matt, Maglio chewed his lip, glanced several times at the window, eyed Mr. Lean, and sidled to the glass. He gazed out and then pressed closer. “Are those fools really …” The gun drifted to his side, as he stood transfixed by what he was seeing. “What the hell is this?”
Lowering Matt to the floor, Raphael sprinted to Maglio and wrenched the gun from his hand. “You can travel solo.”
“Vamoose,” said Mr. Lean.
Shoving the gun under his waistband, Raphael hoisted Matt again and dragged him to the doorway and into the corridor. The janitor took Matt’s feet. “Wait,” said Raphael, lowering Matt.
“We don’t have much time,” said Mr. Lean.
Raphael drew out his Exacto knife. He ran toward Maglio, who gazed out the window. He grabbed Geo by the shoulder, twisted him around and raised the knife. The digits had vanished from the cybernetic eye, and it appeared no different from the other. Too human. He couldn’t do it. Raphael stepped back. Maglio returned his gaze to the street.
Nodding, Raphael backed into the hall and again lifted his friend. As they reached the intersecting hallway, he glanced into Research, whose door stood wide open. The lab must have shifted to battery. A hundred mournful faces gazed at him: Mirsky, Fullers, Pink.
From an unseen screen came a thin voice. “Dead, dead everywhere, but not a drop to drink. No, that’s not right.”
Oh, Gilly. They got you too. “Sorry, guys,” said Raphael. “See you on the other …” His voice trailed off.
“When the hell is happy hour?” cried Mirsky.
Mr. Lean cleared the debris from their path as Raphel dragged Matt through the hall and into the stairwell, where he hoisted his friend to his shoulder. The custodian leading, they picked their way down the treacherous steps to the ground floor.
Mr. Lean pushed open the emergency exit door and oil spread into the stairwell. Raphael edged past Mr. Lean and lumbered into the warm pool.
A few steps later, the ground shook as if an earthquake had struck. “Watch out now!” cried Mr. Lean as stone and mortar toppled from the facade, throwing up tarry black sails that washed across them.
Raphael shook his head vigorously like a dog out of a bath, clearing the oil from his eyes. “Mr. Lean, I have to ask you something. In confidence.”
Mr. Lean glanced at the sinking building. “It’s confidence you’ll have, but maybe we ought to wait to parlay.”
His shoulders tightened. “Has to be now.”
“Fire away then.”
Raphael whispered his question, got his answer, and bowed his head in appreciation. Mr. Lean moved to change positions with Raphael, taking Matt under the arms, leaving Raphael to step free. Raphael glanced toward the waiting End Men, then turned and sloshed back into the stairwell.
“No, Raphael!” shouted Mr. Lean. “It’s just a skateboard.”
His heart aching, the entreaties of his friends growing louder before growing fainter, the consummate possum hunter climbed the sinking stairs.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
A possum threw a pebble at her window.
CHAPTER
FORTY
The skies grew lighter, but the city remained shadowy and vague.
On the northeast corner of Fairfax and Third, several blocks from Wilshire and Fairfax, where the ruins of Norval were bordered with yellow tape, guarded by police, and viewed with wonder by early morning commuters, Raphael stood with his skateboard. Cleansed by the night breeze, the city smelled fresh and invigorating.
On the far side of the street, a figure stepped out from the shadows, then stood as motionless as a street sign. The figure called out, Cross now, Raphy.
He had found his last image. Drowned in tar, buried among the remains of creatures great and small. Well, that would be the world’s memory of Raphael Winston Lennon.
Mr. Lean would know differently.
As he and Mr. Lean had dragged Matt from the building, Raphael had whispered, “Mr. Lean, I want to be a possum. Is there any way I can go back inside, hide long enough for the world to think I’m dead, but safely exit the building in the night?”
Mr. Lean had scratched his chin. “There’s an old Yam’s ventilator shaft. Hasn’t been used in thirty years. There’s a way to access it from the third floor’s restroom. Just pull off that dusty cover. On the roof, there’s an exit right beside the Norval Logo. Got to push off that cover too. But you’re an agile fellow and mighty strong. With a little luck, you’ll do fine.”
