J. Dunn: Our Share of Darkness

Instead I brought up the second call. The screen wavered and Big Sis appeared, floating in midair, legs folded underneath her.

“Alex?.. Rhe,” she said, as if afraid that I’d have trouble placing her. I opened my mouth to say “hi,” clamped it shut in embarrassment. The time delay was something like seven or eight minutes.

Rhea’s eyes narrowed. “It’s about the Pest.”

I nodded. I’d guessed that it would be.

“She called this morning. Can you believe it? Not a peep out of the little slug before I left, and now she gives me a ring. And get this: she called live. Actually paid a premium. How do you like that?”

I didn’t. The space bug had missed me and Chloe, going straight from Dad to Rhea. But where I couldn’t see the point of it, Chloe was flat-out hostile. She hadn’t even gone down to see Rhea lift off.

“But I figured, it’s about Dad, let bygones be bygones. I felt bad I didn’t make the first move. And she sounded perfectly normal.” Rhea sighed. “At first.”

I shifted in the chair. Something wasn’t right. Rhea was speaking far too calmly. She was never calm where Chloe was concerned.

“She starts with that download BS, how nice it would be, how much Dad deserves it, on and on. I was getting madder by the second. I really was.” Rhea’s voice grew confidential. “But the more she talked, the worse she got. Crying, doing that thing with her hands. By the time she finished she was in hysterics. It wasn’t fake, either—you’ll see on the recording. Hiccups, tears dripping off her face, and she just kept talking. It was creepy, Alex.”

Somebody shot past Rhea, evidently brushing against her. She swung to one side, grabbing the console with both hands. “Sorry, Rhe,” a voice called out. “Didn’t know you were on the phone.”

Rhea made a face at whoever it was and got herself settled.

“She was begging me. Not straight out, no. Circling around it. But—oh, you know how badly we get along. Think how much she must be hurting to go that far.”

Throwing her head back, Rhea ran a hand through her hair. I knew that gesture. It was called: Big Sis Choosing the Higher Path. Not as dramatic as usual, with her hair cut to mission length, but effective all the same.

“I’m giving her permission, Alex. Running it through Houston—she’ll get it tomorrow. I want you to know first. It… it’s no big thing. Daddy won’t know. Not really.”

Her voice went higher. “I never saw her like that before. Look at the recording, you’ll see. She’s our little sister, Alex. We can’t make her walk the plank.”

Rhea’s face softened. “I know you think I’m letting you down,” she said. “I guess I am. But… don’t be mad, huh?” She spoke another word that the mike didn’t pick up. “Well—kiss Daddy good night for me.”

I sat glaring at the dark screen. Don’t be mad, Junior. Let bygones be bygones. We all have to stick together now. Easy for her to say, sitting where she was—

The monitor lit up again, revealing the Pest herself, wearing the same outfit I’d seen earlier. “Rhea?” she said in a helpless voice.

I got up and slapped the unit off. I didn’t need any of that. Chloe turning on the waterworks—nothing new there. But what was Rhea’s story? She’d never been taken in by that act before. Up in the Big Dark too long, that was her problem.

But no, it went deeper than that. As far back as I could recall, whenever Rhea was reluctant to face something, plop it went into Alex’s lap. He’ll take care of it. He’s the boy—he has to. Forty years and as many million miles hadn’t changed a thing. That was family life for you.

Well, we’d see about that. I swung back to the monitor. Tomorrow, she’d said.… A lot could happen in one day.

I hesitated over the board. The image of Chloe, face sunk in misery, nagged at me. Maybe I should take a look; but why waste time? Instead I switched to phone and called Horst Beyer, my senior programmer. He was a German who’d emigrated to the US after the native cybernetics industry was banned during the NATO occupation. He knew his stuff—smart as a whip, and not that much of a NeoTeuton either.

He answered on the first ring. “You check that data I flashed you?”

“If you call it ‘data,’ Alex.” Horst looked affronted. “Utter nonsense, in my view.”

“Am I right in thinking that they utilize the hospital system?”

“Of course. What they call a transcription program’ is nothing more than standard copyware. It couldn’t process a thing on its own.”

“Uh-huh. You free tonight?” He nodded. “All right. Here’s what I want…”

My genie woke me at dawn. Dad’s condition was deteriorating. Vital signs unstable: breathing shallow, heartbeat unsteady. I rolled upright and sat at the side of the bed, head in my hands. It would be today.

Behind me Monica moved. Her hand touched my shoulder. I clasped it tightly. After a few minutes I got up and got dressed. At the hospital I used the service entrance. I ran into Carl Suggins, the security chief, as I reached the comp room.

Checking the system, was I? Couldn’t blame me. Hell of a man, your pop. Don’t make ’em like that anymore.

Inside I took out the disc and entered the viroid Horst had written. He’d done all the rewrites on the original software, so there was no compatibility problem. All the same I spent over an hour running checks to make sure.

Then I went to the coffee shop. Eating was out of the question, but I drank two quick cups as I nerved myself to go upstairs. I was heading for the elevator when someone called my name.

It was Randy. He rose from a sofa, feet well apart, as if preparing to challenge me. For the first time I felt sorry for him: caught between two Markhams. What a nightmare that must be.

He tapped his case. A document scrolled out. He handed it to me wordlessly. I opened it, knowing full well what it had to be—Chloe wouldn’t need Rhea’s authorization after all.

The heading caught my eye. “Maryville?” That was a county seat to the northwest, snug on the state border. Randy had done some traveling. “You went to Maryville.”

He shrugged. “They had the right judge.”

“What grounds?”

Randy gestured vaguely. “Possibility of minor antecedent strokes affecting judgment. The most recent will…” His voice trailed off.

“I get to appeal, right?”

“Sure, but—” He pointed at the order. “Time is of the essence, Alex.”

“Yeah, it would be.” I glanced around the lobby. “I don’t see Chloe.”

“She’ll be here.”

“She’s overjoyed, I suppose.”

“Oh, no.” He looked me in the eyes for the first time. “To talk to, maybe, but… I’m telling you, those bastards have dealt with a thousand Chloes. They know every trick, every last button to push. Got an answer for everything. Doesn’t matter, Alex. She knows.”

“Damn well ought to,” I muttered. “I told her.”

“I guess you did,” he agreed, and turned away. I went on upstairs.

Dad didn’t look any worse. How could he? I raised a hand to the display, only to let it fall. That didn’t matter anymore. He was safe. He had his last wish. She’d never get him now, to use as a crutch until her own time came.

But the sense of triumph wasn’t there. Only a hollowness, as if, in the end, I’d simply let him down.

Once when we were in school the other kids had turned on Chloe, with that unerring childhood instinct for finding an easy target. They followed her home, teased her, knocked books out of her arms. And me—well, she’d been snotty to me the day before, so I kept to the other side of the street, ignoring the whole thing, running off when her wails got too loud.