The Anarchists (14 page)

“Soundproof, blocked calls off.” The transparent orb surrounding them vanished. “I won’t.”

“Get going. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

 “Seen you then. And thank you.”

Once the call disconnected, Harper rushed into the kitchen to rescue her dinner from overheating. Though it violated every parental instinct she had been born with, she allowed her children to eat in the playroom unsupervised. At the dinner table, she ate and listened to the 13 messages that had been left on her voicemail. Most were from family members who wanted to know the nature of what she had been selected to do. She also wondered.

An automated representative of the Genesis Institute left the one message of note. She should report to the main building tomorrow morning at 9:30 a.m. sharp and wear comfortable clothes. She did not, however, have to pack a change.

Why don’t I need clothes? Will I be naked?
Harper wished that she had not muted the line to incoming calls, as she surely would have answered that one.
Will I be able to come home?
Charlotte would want to know, and Harper would give the answer as soon as she received it for herself.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

January 20, 2050

Damario placed a canary yellow golf shirt atop the other clothes he had packed and zipped the luggage shut with his human hand. Though the Genesis Institute instructed him that he would not need a change of clothes, he assembled the outfits. Madison had not been in on the call and, therefore, did not know his wardrobe assembly was unnecessary. She naturally assumed he’d be leaving their high rise apartment for no more than a few days.

He wavered on whether or not he intended to stay, but he had stored the papers that Yvette Sloan had sent over to Madison. Playing his final decision close to the vest meant going to great lengths to clip his responses. When his wife prodded him for information on the Begin Again program, he shrugged his shoulders. He really did not know much. She had wondered about the date of his return, and he responded “soon.” That satisfied her. But when she inquired about his intents concerning their marriage, he kept mum. “We’ll see,” or he said the occasional “I don’t know.”

Madison compulsively tapped her fingers on the bedpost, as he finished. “Tell me what they told you on the call again? Where are they sending you? Out-of-state maybe?”

The well-discussed topic exhausted Damario. “Don’t know what you want me to say. There something you think I’m not telling you?”

It wouldn’t be the first time. “End us or continue this. I can’t stand the in between.”

Damario flexed his artificial right hand, which intermittently transmitted sensations. “I got in a major accident, underwent surgery, PT. . .I’m still getting accustomed to it all. You can’t make a major life decision on a whim.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, you can.”

He understood the reference to their past. “I need a break.”

 “From me?”

“From everything.” He dropped the suitcase onto the floor. “The currency deal was stressing me out before the accident and, when I get back, I’ll need to concentrate on that. . .which I can’t do if I’m worrying about my arm, my eye and us all at the same time.”

“And if you weren’t going, what then? What would we have done?”

“There is no if.” He rolled the suitcase toward the door. “I’m going.”

A wave of nausea crashed in Madison’s stomach. Not now, she thought. “What about Robinne? I checked the home holophone records. Nobody you know lives in Philly but her.”

Damario stopped without turning. She’s checking up on me? “You think I’m going to see her. It’s 12 hours, round trip. I’d barely be able to say hi and be back tonight.”

Madison anticipated his building anger and backed away from her comment. “I just want to know why you’re dreaming about her, calling her.”

His college ex entered his thoughts more than he cared to admit, which increased with the administration of that drug. “I don’t know. She didn’t return the call.”

Madison’s smile shined with disgust. “I thought you were holding something back from me, all this time. It wasn’t me or my career ambitions; it’s Robinne. Why rush to propose and marry me, if you felt this way? You thought I’d leave you, too?”

At the mention of their impromptu marriage, Damario wheeled his suitcase to the door. “I don’t have time to do this now, Shenk.”

“You’re still in love with her,” she shouted at his back. “Tell me!”

Damario’s attempt to press down his rage failed. Quickly, he turned, swiveled his hips and punched a hole in the drywall. He knew the electrical sparks jumping into his brain’s pain receptors were manufactured attempts to imitate pain and they did not hurt as much as he anticipated. Damario brushed off the dust and fragments from his metal fist. Breathing heavily, he pointed at Madison, whose body trembled. “They’re thoughts. And I told you that I need time. Leave it at that. Give me that.”

Madison nodded, and then violently threw up onto the Berber carpet. At first, Damario credited the sickness to taut nerves, but he knew better.

Disgusted, he stormed out of the apartment and entered the elevator chute at the end of the hall. Later, on the bottom floor, he used his holophone to access his personal computer server. Then, he opened a set of Sloan’s documents, authorized his signature, and sent them back over to Madison.
Our marriage is over.

He hailed a public serve Crown Alice, got in, and gave the address of his storage locker. There, he stored the bag he packed along with some belongings he had stashed away. When he returned tonight, he needed a new place. Whatever she had not ruined, given away, or shredded, he would retrieve later.

From there, they drove to the Genesis Institute. At the entrance, a holographic assistant greeted Damario. “Hello, Damario Eugene Coley and welcome to the Genesis Institute.”

“Whoa, easy on the Eugene.”

“My apologies. Please remove your glasses and verify your identity by allowing us to scan your retinas.”

He did so, but before he disclosed information about his artificial eye, the scan completed. “Not to worry, Mister Coley. We have the latest in retina scan technology.”

“Nice to know.” The hologram led him to the left and into an elevator chute.

“Please hold your feet together, as tightly as possible. I will meet you on the fifth floor.” The hologram dissipated, as soon as Damario entered the tubing. The sensation of pressurized air beneath his feet instead of something tangibly solid always put him ill at ease. As he ascended, he closed his eyes and refused to look down. The sensation of flying thrilled him as a child, but not so much now. Soon, he exited the tube, and the receptionist greeted him again.

“Hello, Mister Coley, and welcome to the Begin Again initiative.” The whitewashed room reminded him of a hospital emergency ward, or what he imagined the seventh floor of the city hospital – the level where they kept the crazies – must look like. To the right were bagels, a bowl of fresh fruit and carafes of imported coffee. He fixed himself a cup, smeared a bagel with strawberry cream cheese, and sat in a padded chair.

Next to him, a young woman – of about 17 or 18-years-old – listened to alternative music from her personal audiodome. She would not be interested in conversation. If not that, the camouflage hat pulled low over her hair sent the message. Two seats down, a heavy, light-skinned woman in pedal pushers used the “audio only” setting on her holophone. She’d wiped her running eye makeup all along her cheeks and kept making reference to someone named “Tay.” In the last seat, a finely-dressed woman read something on a holographic computer screen with great intensity.

Damario checked his watch. 9:15. He hoped that someone would clue him in soon. When that did not happen, he moved his chair next to the reading woman, who repositioned herself. Both of them wore wedding rings, so she would not think he was flirting. But rings do not stop everyone, as he recently learned. 

“Excuse me, miss?” Damario forgot about his coffee, and accidentally spilled a little on her and the computer projector. She frantically searched for a napkin, as did he. When one could not be found, he voluntarily fetched a few and gave them over. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said, smiling. “Clumsiness is an incurable disease.”

“Terrible way to introduce myself. Damario Coley.”

She quickly cleaned up and shook his hand. “Harper Lowe.”

“Nice to meet you.” He nodded his head to the left. “Do you know them?”

“The woman to my left: her name's Teanna,” she said under her breath. “I don’t know the girl’s name at the end, but I think I heard the assistant call her ‘Quinne’ or something like that. Matter of fact, I think it's Quinne. Pretty girl.”

“Do you know why we’re here? I’m assuming you got the message?”

“Yep. Genesis Institute, 9:30 a.m. Wear something comfortable. I know what you know.” Harper and Teanna had exchanged brief notes; Adharma had counseled them both. Just then, a watch alarm beeped. “I’m sure we’re about to find out.”

“Good morning.”

Damario recognized the voice of the beauty in front of him. He first remembered her from the commercials and from the brief time they spent together on New Year’s Eve. Buttoned up in a burgundy business suit and Zara Hristoff high heels, Kareza was still attractive. Damario noticed the light of recognition in Harper’s eyes. “You know her? Kareza Noor?”

“I knew her as my boss,” she admitted, “not the CEO of this place.”

Kareza started with the young girl on the end. “You all don’t know each other, but, in one way or another, I am familiar with every one of you. Everyone, meet Quinne Ruiz.”

“I know you,” Quinne insisted. “But I thought you was a shrink?”

“That’s how I started off my career; psychiatric counseling for troubled people.” She moved down to the next woman. “Teanna Kirkwood, welcome.”

“Thanks.” Teanna dropped her holophone into the pocket of her cargo pants. Teiji’s cursing mad father wanted nothing to do with her.

“And Harper Lowe, who also knows me from my counseling background.”

“CEO?” Harper’s brow furrowed. “That explains a lot.”

Kareza laughed. “Missing staff meetings and the pot lucks? I’ve been personally evaluating each department, one by one, since last year. December was psychiatrics’ turn. My internal promotion to CEO had to be kept under wraps until I finished my assessments.” She reached Damario and their handshake heated his neck and face. “And Damario Coley. Mister Coley and I have seen a lot of each other, haven’t we?”

He smiled nervously at the double entendre. “We have.”

“I gather that you all want to know why you’re here. Follow me, please.”

 Teanna, Harper, Damario and Quinne – in that order – walked behind Kareza. Damario focused on the back of her head and not the body he had seen half-naked. None of them had any clue of what type of business the Genesis Institute conducted.

From what he read and heard from financial sections, it did billions in 2049 alone. Much of that came from the holographic technology and software it had patented. Now, one could not make a call, watch a sitcom, or drive a transport without it. In fact, Damario’s savvy investment in its stock at the ground level afforded him and Madison the luxurious lifestyle they enjoyed.

“Ever have someone you thought that you could not live without?” Kareza asked, while ushering them through a black marble corridor. The area starkly contrasted the completely white environment they had just left. “I did, a long time ago.”

“A long time ago?” Teanna said, perplexed. “You ain’t no older than 35.”

“I’ve aged gracefully,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m older than I look.”

Quinne approached Kareza’s left side. “How old? What’s your secret?”

Kareza wagged a finger. “A lady never tells her beauty secrets.”

People still say that?
Teanna stepped up her pace to stay in front, though her knees ached. Thankfully, they reached the elevator tubes.

“Please, step in.” The quartet joined the CEO in one large tube. “Top floor.” Since the building was almost 60 stories higher than their present floor, the trip took longer than the one from the ground. The elevators emptied into a room resembling that of the waiting area, but the floors and walls were black marble with white trails running through it. As the girlfriend of a structural engineer, Harper knew these materials were top notch.

“I made a decision one day and five of my friends joined me. Because of that one decision, I never saw them again.”

Harper touched her pregnant belly. “My God.”

“I swore to myself that if I ever got the opportunity to make things right, I would do it . . .wouldn’t even think twice about it. I never got that chance and still regret it.”

The theme of loss connected with each one of them for different reasons. Quinne broke the silence. “No disrespect, but what’s that gotta do with us?”

“You’re about to get the second chance that I never had, Quinne.” Kareza stepped forward into the range of the retina scanning device, which verified her identity. She placed her hand on an access panel, and said her name.

Harper, Teanna, Quinne and Damario looked at each other.

The door slid open and they all stared in wonder.

“This looks like an old-school dentist’s office on sniff.” Damario’s eyes bulged at the technology-draped ergonomic blue chairs.

“You know what an old-school dentist’s office actually looks like?” Quinne wisecracked. “Never actually seen one outside the History Channel.”

Damario sighed. “I am so freaking old.”

The machinery did intimidate the quartet of volunteers. At first blush, holographic images and scenarios randomly emerged, focused, and vanished – a chorale of monotone, automated voices echoed behind them. Damario recognized some of the equipment, as it belonged next to a hospital bed.

“Welcome to our Begin Again initiative!” Kareza announced with fanfare. “I have a ten o’clock, so I’ll be handing you over to the project’s chief medical counsel, Doctor Nandor Adharma, who's capable of answering all of your questions and concerns.”