Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen) (38 page)

Marla asked, “Do you think it’s a hacker?”

Elizabeth replied, “At this point, I don’t think it’s human.”

“Then, a demon?”

Elizabeth said, “I hope not.
 
Whatever it is would seem to have taken an interest in my personal life.”

“And Jeremiah didn’t seem to be that concerned?”

“No,” Liz returned.
 
“I haven’t told him about the recent interest in my love affairs, but I still don’t think he’d care.”

“Is it possible that what is speaking to you
is
your computer?” Marla asked, measuredly.

“I have never seen anything like this.
 
For my computer to have sentience, it would have almost had to contract a virus with the sole purpose of problem-solving and adaptation.
 
I’ve never installed any kind of program that would’ve allowed for this.
 
And I use the word ‘sentience’ with some reservation.
 
If this is the computer, and not some other person, then what I’ve seen leads me to believe that it has the capability to assess very human emotions and, at the very least, compare them to previous emotions, while factoring consequences and the desired effects.”

Marla laid her hand on Elizabeth’s and smiled, warmly, “Isn’t that the nature of problem solving?”

Elizabeth smiled, too, and nodded.
 
“Yes, if all of those emotions and desired effects could be quantified.
 
But how do you assign love a variable?
 
What kind of computer code would account for the supernatural abilities of prophets and demons?
 
How would it comprehend actions and powers that transcend logic and reason?
 
Whatever this is has expressed compassion and a need to see to my well-being.
 
I mean, I know computers are problem solvers, but this is far beyond standard operating procedures.
 
We’re not talking about how this computer could run more efficiently; we’re talking about how this computer can run
my life
more efficiently.”

Marla looked contemplative.
 
“Well, I wish there were something I could do, but I don’t know that much about computers.”

Elizabeth pulled out her cell phone and contemplated calling Jeremiah again.
 
After a moment, she decided that the demon would only respond the way he already had, by pushing it back on her.
 
No, she would have to do this on her own.
 
But it would take so long to determine the origin of this problem, and, by that time, someone could use her computer against the compound.

Liz shook her head in frustration.
 
“I need to determine whether or not this computer is thinking like it’s alive.
 
And I need to do it very soon, or the mansion could be in jeopardy.
 
I don’t have any idea how I’m going to do it.”

***

“You’d better get your scrawny ass over here, and bring me a beer,” a gruff voice from beyond Alex’s comprehension called.
 
It sounded distorted, and there was an undertone to it that sent shivers up Alex’s spine.

Shapes all around him were coming into focus, but he couldn’t tell where he was, and, what was worse, he couldn’t see Matt.

“Boy!” the voice thundered again, this time clearer.
 
It was deep, and ominous.
 
“If I have to come get you,” the voice continued, “you’re going to have a date with my belt.”

Alex could begin to see what looked to be the inside of a house.
 
He could see an old recliner that revealed stuffing through tears in the fabric.
 
Next to the recliner, there was a folding metal TV tray, with a half-finished TV dinner.
 
There was a television, playing something that Alex couldn’t hear.
 
A lamp lay on its side on the ground.
 
There were stains in the carpet of different hues and sizes.
 
And on a drab gray couch, that showed much the same wear as the recliner, lay a small boy, maybe eight or ten.
 
He had light brown hair and a small frame.
 
He wore a plain blue shirt, and he was sporting cut-off jean shorts.
 
He was curled up, watching whatever was on the television.
 
Upon closer inspection, Alex could see that the boy had a black eye.
 
The child got up slowly and shuffled to another room.

Alex followed the boy into the kitchen and toward the refrigerator.
 
The boy seemed to be nursing his right arm, and he cringed a little as he tugged on the door.
 
Alex already knew what this was.
 
He feared what he was going to see, but he knew it had to be important, or he wouldn’t be here.

The boy closed the fridge and walked back toward the living room, when he was met by the assumed owner of the gruff voice.
 
The man had a belt in his hand.
 
He grabbed the boy by the shirt and lifted him off the ground.

“You don’t seem to understand,” the words were partially slurred, “that when I tell you to do something, you do it immediately.”

There was real fear in the kid’s eyes.
 
He held out the beer and whimpered, “I was
bringing
it to you.”

The belt slapped the boy across the face, and the bottle fell to the ground, shattering.
 
Roaring in frustration, the man threw the child to the floor after it.
 
The kid screamed.
 
And as the man pulled the boy up off the floor by his hair, Alex could see blood on the ground and in the boy’s palms.

“What are you doing?” Alex yelled, but no one responded.
 
“Leave him alone!”
 
Again, there was no response.

The boy was pulled into the living room and thrown onto the couch.

“I wish,” the man said as he stood over the boy, “that God hadn’t given me such a stupid son.”

The belt struck the boy with a sickening snap, and then again, and again.

The child cried, “Daddy, please...”

The man stopped.
 
He looked kind of perplexed.
 
He stared at the weeping, bleeding boy for more than a minute.

“Matt, I really do love you, Son.
 
But you’ve got to learn respect.”

“Okay, Dad,” the boy sobbed.

The man smiled, and he bent down and kissed the boy on the forehead.
 
The boy calmed a little from the action.
 
But Matt’s father just stared deeply into his son’s eyes.
 
After a moment of contemplation, he kissed the boy on the mouth.
 
Alex saw the man’s hand go into the boy’s shorts, and Alex could take no more.
 
He looked away, and the scene faded from him.

***

Elizabeth was looking at her computer again.
 
She couldn’t pull herself away from the screen.
 
She knew that there had to be answers here, somewhere.
 
Over the intercom, a voice told her that someone had come to the mansion to see her.

Not recalling any appointments, she walked over to the intercom and asked, “Who?”

“Abigail Martin,” was the response.

Elizabeth’s heart jumped.
 
She hadn’t seen Abbie in over two years.
 
She rushed out of the room and flew through the hallway and down the stairs.
 
In the foyer stood Abbie.
 
Elizabeth rushed up and embraced the prophet.

After a moment, Elizabeth asked, “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Abbie looked confused.
 
“You sent me a message.”

Now, it was Liz’s turn to look confused.
 
“
I
sent you a message?”

“Yes,” Abbie verified as she pulled out a cell phone.
 
“A text message.
 
It says, ‘I need to determine whether this computer is thinking like it’s alive.
 
And I need to do it very soon, or the mansion could be in jeopardy.’
 
It sounded like an intriguing emergency, so I came as soon as I got it.”

“I didn’t send that,” Elizabeth replied, furrowing her eyebrows.

“It’s from your phone,” Abbie indicated the screen of her own phone to show the origin of the message.
 
“It’s curious that I would get this message if it were not true.”

“No,” Elizabeth said, “it’s true, but I didn’t call you.”

“Well,” Abbie decided, “I suppose, whatever the reason for me knowing, it’s a good thing that I’m here.
 
Let’s go look at that computer.”

“Abbie, I’m sorry that you had to come all the way out here.
 
If I sent that to you, I didn’t mean to.
 
I don’t think this is your area of expertise.”

Abbie smiled, “The computer seems to be thinking like it’s alive, right?
 
If a potentially thinking mind isn’t my area of expertise, I don’t know what is.”
 
She peered over Elizabeth’s shoulder.
 
“Jeremiah still has that gaudy portrait, I see.
 
A demon dressed in crusader’s attire.... It’s a little tactless, if you ask me.”

Liz laughed.
 
“Yeah, it is.”

“Let’s go look at that computer,” Abbie repeated.

Elizabeth nodded, “Okay.”

They ascended the stairs, and Abbie asked Elizabeth how she was doing, cooped up in this huge mansion.
 
They talked for a little while about the stress of trying to bring order to disorder and the frustration of working for a demon.
 
Abbie informed Liz that Matt and Alex had come to see her earlier in the day.
 
At the mention of Alex’s name, Elizabeth looked away.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just don’t have the faith in Alex that everyone else seems to have.”

“Everyone?” Abbie said.
 
“To my knowledge, Jeremiah seems to have the most faith.
 
I know the boy has it in him to be what we have needed, but it remains to be seen if he has the motivation.”

“He’s just so sure of himself,” Elizabeth complained.
 
She walked near her computer.

“Really?” Abbie retorted.
 
"That isn’t the impression I get at all.
 
I think that he’s very lost in a brand new world.
 
If he has the force of will to present the façade of assuredness, let’s allow him to hold onto that.”
 
She looked at the computer.
 
“So this is the little devil that’s been causing all the ruckus?
 
Let’s take a look.”

Abbie closed her eyes and placed her hands near the monitor.
 
After about a minute, she moved her hands to the keyboard, and then to the hard drive.
 
There she stopped and looked at Elizabeth.

“There is an anomaly here,” she told Liz.
 
“I’ve never felt anything like this.”

“Is my computer alive?”

“Not as such,” Abbie observed.
 
“But it does seem to be thinking.”

“Thinking?
 
Like processing?”

“No.
 
Thinking like thinking.”

“How is that possible?”

Abbie thought for a moment.
 
“This is your personal computer, right?”

“Yes.”

“You spend a lot of time on it, correct?”