The Code of Happiness (12 page)

Blaze lets Jamie pass, the sign of a confident man,
then presses a silent alarm.

“No one will believe you. You'll be left on the
margins of society.”

“Then I'll be fine.”

“And bankrupt like Ray.”

Jamie's turn to pick a sweet delivery. Enough to make
Blaze think.

“And like you.”

Jamie struggles through Blaze's reception area, his
condition alarming. Blaze's assistant getting the message it's
okay, and a suitable excuse; Jamie had a reaction to the scotch and
threw himself into the shower. Jamie has one last hope. New faith
is about to be tested. He's out of sight from people—and he
prays—the snooping cameras.

A door opens to the stairs. Faith rewarded. Grace is
inside the stairwell. She had been waiting for a while. Jamie too
is full of excuses for his appearance. The details will have to
wait but the faint smell of formaldehyde wasn't his doing.

“Did you bring it?” he asks her.

Grace hands him a thin cobalt key.

“I have to get as close as I can.”

“What will it do?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I'm here.”

“I'm shutting the place down—well—phase two of
project happiness.”

Grace tries to compute. She can't. A decision she
can't make. For a moment she has no idea how she ended up inside
these concrete walls talking to a man who appeared a stranger ready
to rip her world apart.

“I can't believe I'm doing this.”

“Because you know you can't carry on doing the
same.”

“And if I decide not to see you, to turn you in?”

“I can't control you.” He pauses as a truth presents
itself. “I don't want to control you.”

Winning words. She hands him car keys.

“Parking lot 4402. It works on a good day.”

She trembles with uncertain nerves and gives him a
new ring; one to help get down there and avoid detection by
security.

“I'll wait, if you want to come.”

“It's better I stay here. I'm you HR specialist. I
can deflect and monitor the situation.”

She steps onto Blaze's floor, now an accomplice,
leaving Jamie to descend to Phase Two. While the floors weren't
marked, he'd figured out coordinates while working there—an amusing
security oversight he thought. Finally he had a chance to put his
oft-praised skills to some good. The cobalt key would activate a
virus, set XXLI's project happiness back months at a minimum.

The elevator doors won't close quick enough for Grace
though. She has Blaze for company and hopes he doesn't ask what
she's doing. She doesn't belong in this area of the building, and
Jamie is probably the worst excuse she could give. Her wish is
granted but her end at XXLI
the unpronounceable corporation,
fast approaches.

“Good to see you've found your heart, Grace.”

She's still well-trained and waits to see if he
elucidates. He doesn't. And when Blaze leaves, finality is
confirmed.

“You'll get a good reference.”

Grace's classic black hatchback awaits. He has two
hopes; the virus activation and Grace showing up. There's a third.
Hoping her old car starts. He'll give her five minutes, enough time
for a latte. The cheek of it appeals, and so he watches Lucien, the
random barista, deliver a latte sans art. If there was value in
procuring this cup of coffee, there was more in the belief of
another human being. Waiting was a risk worth taking. He'd hang
around longer than the five minutes. ‘Judgment’ thinks Jamie, and
smiles to himself.

*****

“He called the dogs off.”

While Blaze had a penchant for the theatrical, he
preferred the trickier moments to be handled privately and quietly.
He may have wanted Jamie but was prepared to let him slip back to
the status of a nobody. Nobodies weren't a threat. Jamie would be
another worker to have a breakdown. An addition to the book of
urban legends. Blaze had calculated for failure too. In creating
unpronounceable
and growing it into a behemoth he had become
untouchable. The world was too reliant on his recession proof
corporation to bring it down. Wild stories would always be, just
that.

Grace inspects Jamie. He's not fit to drive—at least
her classic, which requires more attention than the wet dream. They
change places, walking around the car. He wants to kiss her but
thanks her instead.

“I'm not sure what I'm doing yet,” she says.

“Driving me home.”

“Is that safe?”

“They called off the dogs, didn't they?”

“Well he's not going to cause a fuss inside HQ.”

It's a pleasure to watch her drive. The chassis is
old, the journey rough, the car from an era when there were still
wind down windows. The engine had been replaced, but she didn't
take it out much. She liked the simple body and wanted to preserve
it, a family heirloom of sorts handed down by her grandparents. The
bumps and cracks in the road are noticeable, giving pause for
thought about the day's events and where they were heading. Close
to his apartment they're interrupted by a request from Po. She
hates asking but she needs his help. Ray has locked himself in at
the old Foundation building.

“Can you drop me off at twenty-first and Beaufort?”
he asks Grace.

“What's there?”

“I have a friend who needs help.”

Grace thinks about this.

“Good. You have a friend. When do I get to meet
him?”

“Her. She's a little strange.” He doesn't want Grace
to race to conclusions.

The last of winter's rain escorts them around the
dull streets of The Source Foundation. The splattering on the
bonnet seems to be an approval from the gods, the storm clearing
way for the new. Jamie doesn't explain what happened with him and
Blaze. It's less believable than the dentist's chair. He needs
evidence to remind him in future years what happened was true. One
option was to keep the clothes but they reeked. A better option
required the help of another. He asks Grace what he smells like and
requests she remember. It will help avoid madness he suggests. It's
peculiar, she thinks, but Grace is getting used to Jamie. In a way
it keeps him more interesting, and she's attracted to that. He
smells like an old laboratory is her verdict. Saying that piques
her interest but the old Grace is still there, the one preferring
safer, conservative decisions, and she chooses not to ask more, but
as she pulls up she's curious as to the skinny figure clad in
black.

“That's Po,” says Jamie.

The wipers squeak against the windshield. They
haven't figured out what to do next, or where to go, and Jamie
doesn't want to involve Grace in this failed old 'sorcerer's'
nonsense. The Source Foundation was about to be consigned to
history, so it was best to let things play out. They fall to
silence. He doesn't want her to go, but he's not brave enough to
ask her to stay. She offers to wait but Jamie insists—a fair
point—she might want some time alone. It almost bursts out from
Grace. She's always alone. His eyes speak now. He won't abandon
her. He looks over to Po. He should go. Her wet clothes have stuck
to her like cling wrap.

“The fool's locked himself in and won't talk,” Po
says. “He's been in there for hours.” She sniffs. Doesn't like what
hits her nostrils. “You smell like formaldehyde or something.”

“Yeah. I'll tell you later. I'm taking you didn't
want to call anyone?”

It doesn't need answering.

“We could do with an ax,” she says.

“Not something I keep in my back pocket.”

“Ha,” comes the sarcastic reply.

“Does Billy have a way in?”

“He scooted off to Memphis weeks ago.”

They shout and bang against the black door but it
holds its own. It's all old-fashioned bolts and locks, and no way
for a former wonder kid hacker to override the circuit. Options are
limited. They're going to have to call emergency. Jamie assures he
can pay. He was a fat cat after all.

Then, an explosion devours the air.

Sailing backward. Jamie, Po, and the black door.

Jamie lands in a deep puddle, Po less fortunate, her
head meeting concrete, the door crashing behind them.

“Po!”

She's battered, blood trickles from who knows where.
She's ripped black cloth and grazed skin, and fortunately coming
around. Jamie checks the cuts—nothing deep—and he looks back to
where the black door used to be and is now furnished with a bright
orange glow. He speaks to her, reassures, tells her to stay still.
Emergency will be on its way for sure. He finds time to joke. He
didn't have to call.

Flames bounce and rip through the air. Inside the old
building the walls are smothered in a blanket of white orange.
Ray's a lone silhouette, ceiling timbers falling behind him. He
walks at ease and past Jamie.

“Haven't lost my touch.”

An assassin, thinks Jamie.

“All things come to an end. It's the only way we can
start again.”

It seems an inappropriate place for Ray's digressions
and pocketbook quotes. And with a creak from the ceiling he becomes
at one with his handiwork. Jamie's stunted screams only adding to
the searing crackle.

Other lights are behind him. Red and blue merge
together. He's dragged away by a man in yellow, never taking his
sight away from Ray's lifeless eyes. His body may be there but Ray
has vanished.

They won't take his claims seriously, and Jamie is
unsure how far to push. He can see the looks and hear the comments.
He'll be consigned to the world of crazies, one of the
Underground
. They say they'll check Blaze and XXLI but he
knows they won't. There's nothing in it for them. Blaze would never
give them access anyway, and tarnishing Blaze Malone would only
come back to haunt them. The paramedics want to clean Jamie's lungs
of smoke, but wearing an
unpronounceable
mask brings fear
and repulsion, and he keeps them away. Language and vehicles. The
ceaseless rain. All blend together while his heart takes center
stage. Each pump echoes. He wants to hear it. A beating heart.
Confirmation of life. The paramedics recognize his body is in
trauma and settle him back. He's left to watch Po being carted off
in a neck brace, her eyes searching, frustrated for the lack of
answers. The death of Ray, the disappointment of him losing ‘fight’
will haunt. Ray, the man who had spotted himself in her had left
without saying goodbye. It's a sorry night. Grace won't hear from
Jamie. He worries she'll turn away, and return to
unpronounceable
.

*****

The ceremony is simple. Billy showed up along with
several people from Ray's past. Blaze was an exception. Jamie
places a stone amongst the flowers. His eyes meet Po's. She's
fragile and unforgiving in her looks, still days away from a full
comprehension of events, not only of that night but also from the
moment of Jamie's first appearance into her life. Jamie, for his
part, had been racked by ambivalence toward Ray. He hadn't deserved
to die, but a question hung over his deception. Ray, so caught up,
was unable to see it himself. Jamie's guilt at his lack of sadness
would remain his own. It was an elderly man though who took his
attention. He was talking to Po.

They met at his building two days later. Touching
ninety, Grant Edmonds still held an office at Kendall's law firm.
His tastes were of clean lines and maroon leather. Sincerity masked
his face of rubber cheeks. Jamie and Po listened, perhaps for the
last time hearing someone utter the words ‘John Charles
Cavour.’

“He was a meticulous man. He understood all things
coming to an end necessitated a beginning.”

The conceit of Mr. Cavour was astonishing. He had
factored in the demise of Ray's version of his teachings. There
were millions on offer to rebuild. Jamie and Po were to ignite a
new group based on his work if they so chose, under the stipulation
it had to be both of them together.

“The funds will sit until you are ready.”

“And if we're never ready?”

“We'll cross that bridge when necessary.”

They're not ready. Neither wants to have a part in
this future. It's too soon and some other man's game.

“The Caves of Liita,” says Edmonds, “you will be
required to train there.”

“It actually exists?”

“Know a man who will show you.”

“Any ogres?”

Edmonds leans in, he wants both of them to be
hooked.

“Demons by the dozen.”

Jamie was out. The best it drew from him was a wry
smile. Cogs in other people's wheels; no thanks. If John Charles
Cavour had been alive, he would've seen. Jamie was no longer the
prime candidate and Po had retreated, needing a place to lick her
wounds. There was no argument from her.

Grace went back to XXLI, Blaze not so much as
forgiving as not caring. Jamie was a mere blip. There would always
be other prospects from a city of black and gray. Grace was an
undecided, still attached to the benefits. She needed a clearer
path than the mess Jamie seemed to be walking. They met, slept
together, and reminded themselves of when they were younger. Jamie
wasn't going to try and change her mind. He'd had enough of being
the focus of others persuasion to understand. Grace appreciated
that. It made them closer. It was more than they had before
entering each other’s lives. His decision made, he would travel
with what was left of his funds. One day Grace might join him.

###

Thank you for reading The Code of Happiness. If you
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Thanks!

David Margolis