J. Dunn: Our Share of Darkness

Dad was so angry. He didn’t hit me. He never had, that I could recall. He did worse: told me that I’d foiled him, that he was ashamed of me, that he couldn’t believe that I hadn’t tried to protect my own sister.

I thought of what Randy had said: how those vultures had manipulated her, had taken advantage of the fact that she was still a child, as she would always be. She’d had to face them by herself, alone in her hardest hour, her weakness completely exposed.

I heard footsteps outside, low voices. I reached for Dad’s shoulder. My hand froze inches away.

“Alex?”

She looked terrible: lines on her face I’d never noticed before, dark rings under her eyes that makeup couldn’t hide. She stared at me fearfully, holding one glove, pulling at it convulsively with the other. “We’re here.”

I swallowed the sarcastic remark I’d normally have made and moved away from the bed. She swept forward, bending over to whisper to Dad. I could hear the whine in her voice.

The others waited outside. I felt like slamming the door in their faces. They had no business seeing her this way.

Chloe straightened up. As if at a signal they came in, the two techs giving me sidelong glances, the counselor blandly planting himself between me and the bed.

I watched as they set up. I might have left any time. The thought never crossed my mind.

Chloe winced as they stuck the leads to Dad’s scalp. The counselor murmured something reassuring.

“… The hell.” The tall guy frowned at his laptop screen.

“What’s wrong?” Chloe cried.

The squat one shuffled close. The counselor bent over them, with the air of a priest hearing confession. “Not acquiring the system. Never seen anything like it…”

Chloe raised shaking hands. Her mouth was open as if to scream. For a moment she stood frozen in that pose, then a shudder went through her and she swung slowly toward me. Her eyes caught mine, and I shivered myself as they bored into me. “Fix it” she hissed.

No use denying it; she’d figured it out. When it mattered, she always could. Activating my genie, I hit a few keys. “There we go,” the tech said. The counselor gave me an outraged glare. I stared back until he dropped his eyes, and left the room.

I slumped against the opposite wall. Randy was waiting a few steps away, staring at the floor, hands gripping his case as if to crush it. I ignored him. For an unknown time silence reigned.

Then something beeped and a ringing voice said, “I’m happy for you, ma’am.”

“Chloe…” A whisper, no more. “Are you there, Mouse?”

“Daddy!”

It wasn’t his voice at all. It was supposed to grow more lifelike with time, but usually didn’t. People just forgot how the real one sounded.

“Come close, Mouse.”

The techs emerged. One of them threw a smirk in my direction before drifting off. Randy took a step toward me but then paused, held by the sound coming from inside the room.

It was a low, animal whimper, harsh and rhythmic. I had heard it once before, in the hallway of the old house after Mom’s funeral.

I pushed past Randy. The counselor’s smile had gone sickly. Chloe was crouched next to the memory box, her quivering back turned toward me.

“…It’s no good, baby. These things adjust, they adapt to what the owner wants. And what you want would destroy you. I can’t leave you in that trap, Mouse. Try to understand.”

Chloe’s keening drowned out the rest. A few more soft words, something about how Alex and Rhea would help her. She finally went silent, her shoulders shaking from the effort.

“Tell me good-bye, Mouse.”

“G-g-g-bye.” She rose and turned to me, sobbing openly now.

It took me a few seconds to understand what she was saying. “It’s not… not…”

“No, Mouse,” I told her. “It’s not him.”

She left the room, arms out as if to steady herself. I moved after her.

“Alex?”

I halted, drowning in the same selfdisgust I’d felt all those years ago, after I’d betrayed his little girl. I forced myself to turn back. “Yes, Dad.”

“Ah, I don’t have to tell you.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“No—I never did. Just be kind to her, that’s all. I should have done better by her, but I never knew how.”

Nor do I, I thought.

“Remember one thing: nothing worth doing—”

“Is ever easy,” I finished for him.

“Right.” There was a long pause. “Good-bye, son. Kiss Rhea for me.”

“Godspeed, Dad.”

The machine’s telltales spasmed and went dead. I stood over it, at that moment understanding what Chloe felt, wanting to ask, do you remember my first day at the office; the time that hitter came looking for me because his car wouldn’t obey; watching the stars as the Big Fear roiled and eddied around us?

In the hall Chloe was leaning against Randy. I lifted my hand. He caught my meaning—he nodded as he led her away.

“Uh… Mr. Markham,” a smooth voice said. “There are occasional problems with the procedure, you understand. But we’d be more than willing to—”

“Get out.” I nudged the box with my foot. “Take this with you.”

The shadow vanished and we were alone. I went to the bed and took the old and weightless hand. I saw him off, thinking of all that he’d accomplished, all that he’d left undone, all that I’d have to do for him.

The readouts reddened and dimmed. The breathing faded, and grew terrible, and then ceased. After a time the nurses came, and I left to find my sister.