Кори Доктороу - Make Shift - Dispatches from the Post-Pandemic Future

“The first year, I tried to,” she said. “But the investigation didn’t go anywhere. Every year I take pictures, and we have a camera rigged up at the front door, but they’ve never come close enough.”

“The first year?”

“Probably the year before the ration program went voluntary,” she said. “I made my opinion pretty clear, and, well, so did they.”

Carruthers put his device down and massaged his temples. “That’s like five years, Erin.”

Erin wasn’t sure when exactly she had switched from Miss Landry to Erin , but it seemed like a permanent shift. “Well, there was a break, the second year. I think one of them must have been sick. Or on probation for something else, maybe. I don’t know. I didn’t expect it to continue.”

“And you report it? Every year?”

“If only to establish a paper trail,” she said. “Much good that it’s done me.”

“Well, this time, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be the one who makes the call.” He flipped his device around to show her the image of a license plate slowly resolving into clarity.

TALKING TO THE POLICE WAS VERY DIFFERENT WHEN YOU WERE A MAN, APPARENTLY.

“You see, my company,” Carruthers flashed the logo on his tablet, “is looking to make significant investment in this property, but I have to say I find this history of violence and vandalism extremely concerning.”

It was evening by the time an officer of the Greater Sudbury Police Service arrived, a Sikh man whose bracelet glittered in the growing dark when Erin opened the door. They received him in the dining room amidst all the fragile things Carruthers was so nervous about, and they served him warm apple cider from their own orchards, and he was deliberate and attentive and he took notes on a big chunky tablet whose case seemed designed to survive an explosion.

“And you’ve reported this activity before,” Officer Singh said.

“Yes,” Erin and Carruthers said, in unison.

Officer Singh frowned. “One at a time, please.”

Erin nodded. “Yes. I’ve reported it. I’ve uploaded all my photos and video to your website, every year.”

“And I can do the same,” Carruthers added.

“Thank you. Ma’am, if you could forward me your confirmation numbers from those uploads, that would help.” Erin nodded, and Officer Singh used his stylus to point between the two of them. “And you, sir, were here to discuss the purchase of the land?”

“Yes. I’m the manager of this account, and I like to take a very hands-on approach,” Carruthers ignored the sudden snort from Dionisia, but the officer didn’t, “and that’s why I was here. And thank God, because now we have this video, and now something can finally be done. Right?”

His voice invited no argument. Erin felt him looming in the chair beside her like a warm shadow, not touching but not distant either, and for a moment she remembered the sudden darkness of his hand over her eyes, as though he too had expected her windows to shatter all around them. She shuddered for just a second, and instantly felt him put his hand on the table beside hers, not touching but within reach. Officer Singh noticed the movement, and his nostrils flared slightly.

“And, ma’am, regarding the sale of this land, for how long have you been in negotiations with this man? With his company?”

“Um,” Erin looked at Carruthers. Suddenly it was difficult to remember that afternoon, much less the past year. “It’s been—”

“I sent my first letter to you in February,” Carruthers said. “And then I called you every month after that, to update you on plans for the boarding school.”

“Right.” Erin nodded at the officer. “That’s correct.”

“So these incidents started before there was any offer made to purchase the land?”

“What are you implying?” Carruthers asked.

“Sir, I’m not implying anything, I simply want to know if—”

“If you think I would ever hire some fucking goons to intimidate one of my accounts—”

“Sir, there’s no need for that kind of language—”

“They fucking shot at us, Officer Singh. They pointed guns at this farm. A farm, by the way, which has queer women of color living on it, which might technically make this a hate crime , which means they have every right to bring the full force of the Ontario Provincial Police down on these kids if your department won’t—”

“Callum,” Erin said, and when he turned to her his face was white with high spots of red spattered across his cheekbones, and his chest was rising and falling as it had on the screen porch after the shooting. “It sounds like Officer Singh really does want to help. I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“I assure you that something will be done,” Officer Singh said. “This is really troubling. For all the reasons you mentioned. Now, ma’am, I have to ask: do you feel safe, here? Incidents of vandalism do go up a little around Halloween, usually just kids smashing pumpkins, but with your particular history, you might have more cause for concern.”

“Thank you,” Erin said. “For asking. Dionisia? Ruthie? How do you feel?”

The two women glanced at each other. “Well, there are three of us here,” Dionisia said. “And you have the deer rifle—”

“I’m staying,” Carruthers said. When everyone frowned at him, he hastily added: “In the area, I mean. I’m staying in the area. Until we finalize our negotiations.”

“For the land,” Officer Singh said.

“Yes. For the land.”

Officer Singh raised his eyebrows, but nodded. “Okay. Sure. Well, let me get to work on this, and I’ll be in touch.”

They saw him out, and when Erin wandered back into the kitchen Callum was washing her grandmother’s teacups by hand, very carefully, as though still afraid of breaking them. “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

He stared out the window over the sink. “I needed something to do with my hands.”

“Well I have a couple of acres’ worth of corn that needs shucking, if you’re into that kind of thing,” Erin said.

He shook his head ruefully. “I have…” He cleared his throat. “I was downtown. During the Canada Day attack. I was in the subway.”

The hairs on Erin’s arms rose. “I’m sorry. No wonder today was—”

“Yeah.” He wiped something from his face with the sleeve of his upper arm. “Yeah, it was. You’re a lot better at this kind of thing than I am. You’re a lot tougher than I am.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.” Erin tried to smile. “I mean, most other people find me pretty prickly and awful to deal with, but not you. You just seem to take it in stride.”

He snorted, but said nothing.

“You extended your stay? At your rental?”

He shook his head. “No. I mean I will, but I haven’t. Yet. But the officer has a point: I don’t know if Devil’s Night is a thing out here, but—”

“Have you even checked your tires?” Erin asked, suddenly catching on.

“No.” He set the last teacup upside down on its drying mat, aligning it with the others just so, and turned to face her. “No, I have not.”

“So you don’t even know if you can get out of here.”

“I’m pretty sure I can’t, actually,” he said. “In fact I’m pretty sure I’m…” He licked his lips. “I think the technical term is ensnared. I’m pretty sure I’m ensnared, Erin.”

She swallowed in a dry throat. “Oh. It’s… like that?”

“It’s like that.” His eyes widened. “I mean, not that I’m asking for anything specific, I can sleep in my car—”

“Don’t be an asshole,” she said, lifting the back of her hand to whack his arm. But he caught her hand before she could make contact, and he held onto it, running his thumb over her wrist. She stared at their linked hands. “I hope you know I’m still not going to sell,” she said. “If I haven’t sold this land after five years of having my scarecrows shot up, I sure as hell am not going to sell because you happen to be very—”