UNCHIPPED: DENNIS Page 7

  “Yes, dear.”

  “By who? Mrs. Salonen?”

  “Mother is not the one who brought me here, no. Although she sure is the one to blame. But it was Margaret who uploaded me into the egg.”

  Who else? This god damn mole. Daughter of the devil herself, Dennis is sure. Why is Laura not more furious? She doesn’t even sound upset, yet her body lies buried somewhere in City of Finland. Abandoned and forgotten. The great Doctor Solomon. How could she let this happen?

  “Listen, Laura. I’ll find that piece of shit hacker. I’ll find Lewis and get justice for what has happened to you—”

  “Ahh, don’t bother..” Laura’s voice remains calm, so soothing. “I’m here of my own free will. I asked Margaret to do it.”

  Dennis reaches under the glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. This is too much. This must be some sort of a scam or a dirty trick these women are pulling on him. The line hums with static as they both give Dennis time to gather her thoughts.

  “And this assassin business?”

  “We’ll get to that. First, I need two things from you. And this is why I put you in charge, not Nurse Saarinen or anyone else involved with the program. I need you.”

  Only a month ago, these words, coming from Laura Solomon, would have swept Dennis off his feet. He has always fantasized about her, the powerful and intelligent Doctor Solomon. What it would be like to be close to her, and not just due to work. But now, her words only make him blink. Heart racing against his chest, Dennis fixes his eyes on his bedroom door.

  “She wants the program to herself. And the power that comes with it. Nurse Saarinen has grown omnipotent in her own mind. Things went sideways between her and me some time ago, and one thing led to another, until—”

  “It led you to live in an egg?”

  “Precisely.”

  “I’m completely lost, Laura.”

  “No, you’re not. You just think you are. But I do need you to focus. Like I said, I need two things from you, and it’s very important that these things happen. “

  That he can believe. Anything that Doctor Solomon says has always been important, even before her sort-of-death.

  “What’s the first thing you need?”

  “I need you to bring someone from City of Finland to City of California. A group of people, actually. And I need you to keep them safe.”

  Huh. Is that all? That’s easily arranged. Jenny could do it. Dennis wouldn’t have to do anything but ask the girl to take care of it.

  “Done deal. Who are these people? Your crew from the headquarters’ Chip-Center? Are they leaving Nurse Saarinen, and they need transportation and a place to relocate to?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Waiting for Solomon to elaborate, Dennis gets up from his chair and paces around his temporary bed. There will be no sleeping tonight, that’s for sure.

  “It’s some of the rebels. From the Iceland incident. But just a few. Most of them are integrated with CS now and living their lives in the blue city.”

  “The Unchipped rebels?” This was getting more and more convoluted by the minute. “Okay… and you want me to store their stasis capsules in my building instead of the local Chip-Center?”

  “The rebels are not in their capsules anymore.”

  “No?”

  “No. Iris helped them escape, just before my upload.”

  “But… why?”

  A long exhale makes her seem more… real. Alive. And just like that, it makes sense to him—why she wants to remain human-like even after her death.

  “It’s complicated, dear. Let’s just call it a trade or a compromise.”

  “Since when have you compromised about anything to do with the Happiness Program?”

  “Since I lost my arms and legs. And don’t get me wrong, I’m still in charge of things. More powerful than ever, actually. I just need some time to… do my thing.”

  “And a bunch of rebels running loose fits this… thing of yours?”

  “The rebels are irrelevant. To me, at least. To you… well, I guess they’re your problem now. Just meet with Iris. She’s with them as we speak. Hiding in the Finnish woods, waiting for transport.”

  “You. Helping the Unchipped escape.” Dennis sits down on the mattress and holds his head between his hands. “I suppose you’re not going to tell me more about this trade?”

  “I will. But not right now. The time will come, dear. For now, I just need you to trust me.”

  “Is Iris the only Chipped traveling with them?”

  “Iris and Markus Nyman. He’s associated with Kaarina and was in Iceland when we took over their rebellion and brought everyone back home.”

  He remembers that day. When the mansion’s CEO, William, was brought back to the green city, this time resting in an underground stasis capsule. There he waits for the mind augmentation program to fully kick in. When it does, even the rebels can be altered into amenable, controllable AR-citizens.

  “And Markus is with a girl. Dennis, she is… special to me.”

  “She’s the trade. Your daughter and her safety.”

  “I need you to take care of her like she’s your own.”

  The words tear an old wound open, but Dennis shakes the feeling away, pretending the lump in his throat is not there. That he hasn’t noticed how his ears have started to ring.

  “What’s her name?” he asks Laura.

  “Sanna. She’ll be glued to Markus’s side, but don’t let that distract you.”

  “The girl’s Chipped too?”

  “No, she’s not. The research remains inconclusive, when it comes to children. During initial chipping, once the chipping pellet is installed, the nanobots should immediately activate, which they do. However, once they begin replicating and laying down the pathways in the brain and alongside the nervous system to allow the chip system—”

  “I’m going to stop you right there. So, what you’re saying is that your daughter could not be fixed?”

  She pauses for a long time. This time her breathing is nowhere to be heard.

  “I wouldn’t use the word fixed. But no, she isn’t properly Chipped, either. Which means that you’ll need to arrange the building lights. Make sure all Chipped technology is off. But I’m informed that you already have a guest that requires these adjustments?”

  Not a guest. But an angel sent from above. If that sort of thing was something Dennis believed in. His eyes find the bedroom door again.

  “Consider it done, Laura. And I’ll arrange the transport first thing in the morning. How do I contact Iris so she can give them times and locations?”

  Laura pauses and laughs softly. “Ahh, yes, dear. That brings me to my second request. And this one might be a bit of a bitter pill for you to bite.”

  “You mean swallow?”

  Soft laughter caresses his ears.

  “Is that how the saying goes? Live and learn, my dear. You live and you learn.”

  “What’s the second thing you need from me?”

  “Could you give me a moment, dear? My mother just popped in with news. I’ll ask her to hold off until we’re done talking.”

  “Sure,” he says. “I’ll wait.”

  It’s hard for him to believe the second request Laura has will be any more shocking than the first. The great Doctor Solomon, commanding him to help a bunch of outlaws escape one city and hide them in another. But to question Solomon’s authority is not something Dennis is willing to do. Even if he is legally now capable of doing so. His lawyers wouldn’t care about some voice inside his AR-glasses. No one would. No one except Dennis.

  And then it finally hits him. The letter of attorney. Him becoming the kingpin. The Happiness-Program being his to rule. Laura knew he would still bend under her will. No matter the state or form of her existence. She has known this all along, read him like an open book. Sorrow and shame unravel his stomach.

  “Okay, dear. Where were we?”

  “The hard-to-bite pill? Your second request?”

>   “Ahh, yes. Of course. Well, dear, it has to do with Margaret Lewis.”

  That scumbag of a mole.

  “What about Lewis?”

  “I need you to work with her, Dennis. Side by side.” Laura pauses to wait for his objections. But Dennis is too dumbfounded to voice any. “I need you to do everything Margaret tells you to do. Starting right now.”

  ***

  “What is this place?” The hem of Maria’s black T-shirt flaps in the wind. She has to hold onto her hat—a baseball cap with the Happiness-Program logo on it. Never in a million years did Dennis think Maria would actually wear this stuff, no matter how stinky and torn her own attire was getting. But she had. The hat seemed to have amused her more than the black pants Jenny made for her from an old set of coveralls. The black attire is only for founders and their employees to wear. The fact that an Unchipped woman now wears all of it gives Dennis an odd feeling of satisfaction.

  He pushes against the wind, and gestures at another passenger plane across the runway. “This is City of Maine,” he yells at Maria. The plane they’ve just stepped out of has its motor still running, making it hard to hear. The plane and the fierce wind. “This is what used to be the Portland International Jetport.”

  Maria takes a couple of running steps to catch up with Dennis. Once they gain distance on the plane behind them, it’s easier to hear her voice again. “How is it that the black market has no direct flights to City of Finland?”

  Even Maria doesn’t know about the specifics. Laura or Margaret or Mrs. Salonen—Dennis has given up on staying on track of who’s in charge—had sent their travel plan to Jenny’s CS-key at six a.m. this morning. Doctor Solomon’s not wasting any time. Though Dennis would have hoped for a couple hours of sleep after his mind-boggling night, he was thrilled to be stuck alone in a plane with Maria for hours and hours on end.

  “Sure, they have direct flights. They’ll fly anywhere you want them to, as long as you’ve got the money.” He grins at Maria, patting his AR-glasses inside his suit’s chest pocket. “And money is not an issue in my life.”

  Maria rolls her eyes. “Good for you, chief.”

  Was that… a nickname? A sign of affection?

  The last drops of fatigue disappear as Dennis’s grin widens. “This is just to play it safe. A distraction. It’s better for us to make a few stops on our way. In case we’re being followed.”

  They get to the second plane. Dennis stops by the stairs, steps aside, and extends his hand to help Maria board. The woman marches right past him, ignoring his helping hand. She jogs up the stairs and disappears into the plane.

  “This woman…” Dennis mumbles and shakes his head. He climbs the steps one at a time and stops to breathe halfway up. He looks over his shoulder and sees two black market employees, a man and a woman dressed in all-black clothes, carrying their luggage; a briefcase and a black backpack. Not that they’ll need any of it. As soon as they get to City of Finland, they’ll turn around and head right back home.

  Dennis continues inside. At the front of the plane, Maria sits in what used to be a first-class seat. Or is it still? When there are no other passengers on board, and she can sit wherever she likes? Dennis takes the seat across the aisle. A sigh of relief escapes his lips when he sees the flight attendant approaching with a champagne glass. But when he gets to Dennis, Maria waves him over. “I’ll take that, thank you.” The attendant clears his throat and looks at Dennis with an awkward expression on his face.

  Dennis laughs briefly and nods at him. “You heard the lady.” Maria gulps down half the glass. Dennis reaches for his AR-glasses and shoves them onto his face. With a few taps, he sends the flight attendant two thousand CC’s. “Why don’t you just pop open another bottle and bring it over?”

  Hoping to have made an impression on his travel companion, Dennis looks over at Maria. But instead of staring at Dennis, Maria is gazing intently at something outside the window. In the distance, the horizon glares bright orange. The light seems unnaturally clear for noon.

  “That’s City of Maine?” Maria asks without turning to look at Dennis.

  “Yup. Not completely kicked into gear just yet, but the Chip-Center and tile roads are all up and running. The floods and snowstorms during The Great Affliction took out most of the population in New England. Whoever was left got their spot in the sun.”

  “You burned them alive?”

  Dennis blinks, his mouth hanging open. “What?! No!” He struggles to find words. “They all get to live in the city now. Why would we burn them?”

  She doesn’t reply but takes a slow sip from her glass. After a moment of silence staring into the orange glare, she asks, “So there are no chipless people left?”

  “Up north? No, not that I’m aware of.”

  “And the Unchipped?”

  “In the Chip-Center, of course. Waiting for their second chipping.”

  “And those who don’t want it?”

  Dennis knows he should be careful with his words. This topic is sensitive to Maria. He knows that much, even if he doesn’t understand why.

  “I’m not sure if there are Unchipped outside the city, Maria. Sorry. I’m not familiar with those statistics, I’m afraid.” The flight attendant comes over and hands Dennis a bottle of champagne and an empty glass. He hurries away without a word. Something tells Dennis that he’s intimidated by the strange, thirsty woman barking out commands like it’s her job.

  She empties her glass and drops it on the seat next to hers. Dennis lifts the bottle up to offer a refill, but Maria waves him off. Then she stares into space, an expression on her face that Dennis doesn’t know how to read.

  The plane takes off. Maria keeps her gaze on the orange horizon. It seems she has completely forgotten Dennis and his existence. Deep in her thoughts, the perfectly imperfect woman sits close enough for Dennis to reach out and touch, yet further away from his reach than anyone he’s ever known.

  Once the plane’s tires pull away from the tarmac, and the plane rises above the orange city and the lush green that surrounds it, Dennis stares out his window, his back to Maria. But instead of appreciating the sight of the newest luxury AR-city underneath him, his eyes lock onto a lake a few miles away from the orange light.

  Is that smoke he sees, rising from a bonfire by the water?

  CHAPTER 3 — 10 YEARS EARLIER

  The gunpowder strong in his nose, Dennis stares at the dead body on the floor. Dim blue light from the open refrigerator door illuminates the side of the boy’s face.

  A sharp nose.

  Dark eyebrows.

  Noise-canceling headphones on a head of curly dark hair.

  “Danny…” he half-whispers, but the voice doesn’t seem to belong to him. It’s too dry. Too raspy. It’s the voice of someone who has just murdered his own son.

  A strange ringing sound fills his ears. Dennis walks to the fridge and reaches for the door. A wooden bowl of freshly made guacamole sits on the top shelf, right next to a six-pack of Mexican beer. The gun clanks against the glass shelf. Dennis leaves it there and picks out a beer. Careful not to step on Danny’s lifeless body, he shuts the fridge door and walks toward the mansion’s front hall. With each step he takes, the ringing sound vibrates in his ears.

  The front door is wide open. Outside, a pack of coyotes yaps their dinner tunes over their newest prey. While twisting the beer bottle’s cap open, he walks through the door and into the night. The movement sensor above the porch clicks, and a warm yellow light reveals the scene outside Dennis’s usually peaceful home. Staring at the scene, his heart skips a beat.

  A shotgun, peeking out from the rose bushes.

  A hole cut into the wire fencing.

  Another dead body.

  His eyes lock on his dead wife’s glassy gaze. Claudia lies unmoving on the gravel between the front door and the fence. Dennis takes a sip of his beer. He wants to cover his ears, or beat them, to make the ringing stop. But his body doesn’t cooperate. He’s numb, yet mobile. Dea
d inside, while his body keeps on going.

  In the distance, where the orange trees turn into avocados, the sound of a motorcycle buzzes to life. Dennis takes another sip of his beer, listening to his wife’s killer escaping into the valley nearby. There he would park his bike by a bar or a nightclub, walk in, and try his luck at selling off his ill-gotten treasure.

  A gold watch.

  A set of bulky AR-glasses.

  Claudia’s jewelry box—the one she had run after with a shotgun.

  That had been the commotion that got Dennis to abandon his newest toy—a set of AR-glasses fresh from the factory with a simulation game—and run downstairs with his Glock 42. Claudia screaming. Someone in the house. Before he had a chance to think clearly, he had rushed to the kitchen, where a hooded scavenger rummaged through the fridge. One shot, and he was down. One second later, Dennis realized the mistake he had made.

  An eerie, deep silence had landed. The house lacked all life, except for Dennis, frozen by the fridge and the sight of his dead child—noise-canceling earphones still over Danny’s ears.

  His eyes find Claudia again. Her leg twisted in a weird angle, and her hand still reaching for her fallen weapon, she lies against the gravel, dead and quiet. He should go over, shut those dreadful glazed-over eyes. He should fall on his knees, howl in pain. He should do something. Anything.

  He takes another sip of beer. Then he tosses the almost empty bottle at the broken fence across the driveway. The ringing in his ears gets louder, muffling the sound of the bottle breaking when it hits the gravel. He turns goes back inside and shuts the door.

  The mansion’s heavy silence surrounds him. With slow, sticky steps, Dennis makes his way to the stairs and starts climbing. He should go get his gun from the fridge. Cover Danny’s body. Call for help. But his feet won’t listen. On autopilot, he steps back into his office, closes the door, and sits down on a black leather gaming chair.

  Just outside the balcony door, three cardboard boxes are stacked on top of one another. On the side of each box, a logo with a text reflects the ceiling lamp's light. DRONE GOODS, it says. The security system Claudia had ordered months ago, when the first homeless person had knocked on their door, begging for leftovers or pocket change.