The Complete Karma Trilogy (27 page)

“Then let’s go,” Will said. “We don’t have much time to spare.”

And then Will was nearly there, he could see the distant spots of greyish green that appeared between tall buildings, which indicated the City Park. Will was deathly afraid of Karma, and letting it down. He had the deepest conviction that whatever Karma asked for, it was right, and he was concerned that he would not succeed. An intelligent man like Charles belonged in the Government, doing his part to peacefully make the world a better place, but instead he had deviated somewhere, and the thought disgusted Will. It disgusted him that someone like Charles had been paid for Good Works, even became rich from them, and none of them had been sincere. The more Will thought about it, the more he wanted to Evaporate Charles.

He changed the range of his Evaporator from five to one hundred feet. He looked at his Karma Map, and could see pictured in the screen a group of fifteen people, with the audacity to have a subversive meeting in a public park, no less. He would Evaporate them all.

When they came into range, he took the first shot, aiming at the center of the group. From the corner of his eye, leaning out from the other Helicars, he could see Eric and the others doing the same.

Decay 12

Maladjusted

For nearly a
week, Aaron had been making a circuit around the city’s bars, finding ones that would serve him instead of reminding him about the Tax. They always gave him one or two drinks and then became philanthropists, so he would stand up, walk to the next bar, and have his next drink or two, before continuing his cycle. Even drinking was starting to seem like a chore to him, because he had to develop a system just to do it, but it had the benefit of being entirely unrewarding, which was all that he was looking for. His credit was the lowest it had been since he had gotten the Card, and it made him smile whenever he looked at it, stumbling through the dark, thankless streets of New York City.

There was one bar he had been in, three days earlier, when a cop had shown up looking for him. He had been sitting at the counter, deprived of a third drink, and had decided to watch the television for a little bit before moving on, just to see what the world looked like for a second. The cop sat down next to him, and inspected his face.

“Can I help you, sir? You’re staring,” Aaron said, not looking away from the television.

“Are you an Aaron Fawley?”

“Only until I can find out how to stop.”

“That isn’t funny, Aaron. You, exactly as you are, have a lot to offer this society. You just need to change directions a little. My name is Will Spector.”

The man had stuck out his hand, and even though Aaron passionately hated him already, he took the hand and shook it. He should have wiped his own hand first though, he realized. It was just beer, only beer, or maybe condensation, but it was still embarrassing to shake with a wet hand. A complete mistake. But it served the officer right, shaking a stranger’s hands without warning. He watched Will discreetly wipe his hand on his pant leg afterward, and smiled to himself.

Aaron continued the conversation of his own accord. “My next stop is Lucky Joe’s, down the road. What possible better direction is there than that.”

“You could go back to doing Good Works, Aaron. I would highly recommend that. I’ve seen the Rehabilitation clinics myself, for the first time just only the other day, and I can promise you that you won’t like them. I didn’t. I’m being more honest with you than I’m supposed to, because I care. I’m supposed to just tell you that you’ll go to a Rehabilitation clinic at your current rate, and let you make the decision, so that we can tell you that you were fairly warned. But I’m telling you personally that you don’t want to go.”

“I’ve always wondered what they looked like, those Rehabilitation clinics. Government doesn’t tell you much, other than that’s where you go to get fixed when you’re broken,” Aaron said, and laughed. “Did you say only recently? Are you new?”

“I am, yes,” Will said.

“No wonder you’re so damn perky. And what was it you did, to become a cop?”

“A lot of Good Works,” Will said patiently.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I know how this system works. You did one thing in particular, something they could put in the newspaper so that everyone in the world knows that every cop is a complete and utter hero, so that if I complain about you being an asshole they can roll out an article and say, ‘Does this look like an asshole to you? You’re the asshole.’ Now I’m asking you, what did you do?”

Will seemed like he wasn’t going to play along, but then he rolled up the legs of his pants and showed Aaron his mechanical legs. “I got hit by a subway,” he said. “Saving a kid. I used to be prettier.”

“We all did, but that was yesterday. Why’d you do it? Why did you give up on the things that made you pretty, by standing in front of a subway?”

“I didn’t give up on being pretty, I said I was prettier.”

“Which means that you gave up at least one unit of prettiness, doesn’t it? Are we talking the same language here?”

Will breathed in, breathed out. “The things that make us pretty, they aren’t body parts. If I could do it all over again, I would willingly make the same sacrifice, even if there was no reward. I would give anything, if I knew that the benefit to the world was greater than the cost. Don’t get me wrong, don’t think that I did it all to be a police officer.”

“I never said that you did it all just to be a police officer. But now that you’re acting all defensive, I don’t believe you.”

“How did we get so off track? I’m here to tell you to get out of this bar, and back into the world. Let’s go back to that.”

“Whatever you want to talk about, captain, I’m all ears. You pick the topic. But I’m not leaving this bar. Or I am, but only to go to another bar because I have to. You can tell me more stories over there if you want.”

“You’re not taking me seriously.”

“You know,” Aaron said, changing his tone from sarcasm to something approaching serious. “I almost feel the exact same way that you do. All of the things you said make sense. I want to see the world going in the right direction, getting better. I would make the same trade. Where we differ, I imagine, is on our opinion on Good Works.”

“If you make any heretical statements, I’ll arrest you right here.”

“Way to end the conversation before it began, Mr. Officer. That’s why I’m just quitting, right there. It’s people like you. I’ll never convince you, you’re far too engrained, and the only reason I could possibly think of to stick around is to convince people like you that you’re all complete idiots, at least where it counts. Will you agree that you’re a complete idiot?”

“Why would I do that?”

“There you have it. I’m going to the next bar. Shake? Shake hands again? Come on.”

Two days later, at another bar, Aaron had been approached by another man. Before he had turned to look at him, Aaron thought it would be another cop, and that maybe it was time for him to find a better diversion. But it wasn’t, it was a man that looked nearly as dirty and unemployable as himself, which surprised him.

“I’ve seen you here several times, man. Always drinking. And I’ve heard them saying you’re not going to afford the Tax here coming up,” the stranger said.

“Are you going to lecture me too? I’ve had about enough of it, so watch out.”

“No, not at all, wouldn’t dream of lecturing anybody on anything. But I do have something I’d like to talk to you about, if you’d join me at that booth in the corner over there.” The man indicated a booth immersed in the deep gloom of the corner of the bar. “I’ll be over there. Any point you think you want to hear what I have to say, you’ll find me over there. For today, that is.”

More curious than anything, Aaron stood up after finishing his drink, and moved over to the booth. The man was there waiting for him, a wary smile on his face.

“What is it, then?” Aaron asked, somewhat rudely.

“I’m putting myself at a lot of personal risk, offering what I’m offering, so you got to promise not to go reporting me to the police or anything. Can you promise me that?”

“Just say it already.”

“Promise me.”

“What does my promise to you really mean? Fine, I promise you. Now what is it?”

“I have a way of getting around the Tax,” the man said, extremely quietly and looking carefully back and forth across the bar while he did.

“And what is that?”

“I can’t tell you anything about it, really. I can just promise you that if you take the offer, you won’t be going to any Rehabilitation clinic. And you won’t have to pay the Tax.”

“How am I supposed to believe that, if you can’t tell me anything about it? Your promise doesn’t mean anything to me either.”

The man simply smiled. “Have it your way. You just looked like you could use some help. Have a good day then,” he said as he stood up, and began to walk away.

“Hey, no, wait. Tell me what I would have to do.”

The man sat back down. “Simple, really. You just have to say yes, and to give up on your life as you know it. I can tell you that much. But it looks like you’ve already done the giving up part, so all that’s left is the saying yes. You don’t have any family, do you?”

Aaron thought about it silently for a long time, and about Sam. “I can think about it, right? And get back to you on that?”

“That’s the thing about these offers, friend, is that they’re hard to keep open. I’ll tell you what I can do for you, I can give you three days. For the next three days, you’re going to think about it. And before those three days are up, if you decide you want to, you’re going to write a letter saying yes, and your signature, and you’re going to leave it under that chair you’re sitting in. Pencil and paper. And then four days after that, we’ll find you. That’s what I can offer you, and if you let those three days go by we won’t be talking again.”

“Alright, I understand. I’ll think about it.”

The other man left the bar first, in a hurry, leaving Aaron to sit alone and think.

Around three o’clock in the afternoon, Aaron’s wife was always sitting along the edge of the City Park, where Good Works still counted, folding newspapers into paper animals for the passing children. She had been so delighted when she found out that it was rewarded, even if it was only a small amount. She had said to Aaron, “It’s not even work at all, and the children love it. You should see their faces, they really do love it.”

Since he knew that she would be there, away from the apartment, Aaron took the opportunity to go back and get a pencil and a few pieces of paper, and to change clothes for the first time in a week before leaving once more.

“I smell like a human again,” he said to himself, after he had changed. “It’s magical.”

He found a café overlooking the pathetic City Park, and without buying anything at all he took a seat by a window. The prices at the café were exorbitant, since everything they served was considered a luxury. Twice he had to turn away an employee trying to get him to buy something, saying that he was still thinking about his order.

He was writing a letter. For a long time, he just sat there with a pencil in his mouth, staring blankly at the empty white pages, but eventually he took the pencil from his mouth and wrote:

Dear Sam,

Years from now, you’re going to look at this letter and it’s going to make you laugh. It will be our last little private joke, me and you. If you ever get a refrigerator, I want you to hang this on it, ok? You’ll get a refrigerator, I know you will. You have such a kind heart, deep down. I still believe. And kind hearts deserve refrigerators.

I’m sitting here at a café I’ll never be able to afford, writing this. There’s a window down into the Park, and I swear I can see you, but you’re so small from here. You’re smiling, I know. I don’t think I’m coming home again. That’s probably going to upset you for a while.

I never stopped believing in the things you wanted me to believe in, I promise. I’m still in love with us, but mostly you. And I still think it’s our happiness and our happiness alone that is important in this universe, but mostly yours. It’s just that I’m going to bring us both down if you let me, and you will let me, so I’m going to spare you myself. I’m just not strong enough to do it face to face, so I’m using this paper. Forgive me for that, among other things.

I know that me leaving puts you in a bad place. There are bills you won’t be able to pay, and you’ll have to live somewhere else. But believe me when I say that this world is made for people like you, it was made specifically so that you’ll always be able to get back up when you’ve fallen. But it doesn’t work that way for me, I won’t be getting back up.

I’ll be leaving all my things behind. You should sell them. Sorry for the chore.

You’ll probably want a reason, one that would actually convince you. I probably don’t have any of those. I will say that, for a while now, I’ve been finding myself thinking about what is right. In a really general sense. Like, is it right to hate absolutely everyone? Probably not, but why can’t it be, and who’s judging? I don’t believe in God, and I don’t believe in karma, I don’t believe in any of the things that you do, so I’m lacking a lot of motivation that you’ve always had an easy time finding, even if you’ve doubted the same things from time to time yourself.

There’s nothing but ourselves, is what I’ve distilled it all down to, and even then, even when that’s all I’m considering, I’m still doing wrong. Which is discomforting. I’m going to do it right. I’ve thought a lot about what that means, and this is what I’ve decided. You won’t agree, but I know I’m right. When you read this years from now, hanging on your fridge, while you’re laughing, you’ll finally agree with me. You’ll have filled your life with other things and you’ll realize that they suit you much better. I hope you can thank me then, even when you hate me now.

Be happy.

None of it sounded right, but he put the pencil down anyway. He was done with the eraser, done with the lead. Rowing in Eden. He folded the letter up, put it into his pocket, and left.