C James - Dome Six

Owen’s fondness for technology was a direct result of Dek showing him how things worked as a kid. He’d bring little components and parts he’d taken while he was cleaning, disassemble them, and challenge Owen to put them back together. After three months in the Towers, he was hungry for it.

“Hell, yeah I do.”

Tosh was supposed to spend the evening at Byron’s but he was called away on a repair, so they agreed to meet at the Epoch the next day. She thought about just hanging out with Dee but that wasn’t the kind of company she needed. It felt good to actually engage her students, but there was another itch she needed to scratch.

The last thing she needed was to be alone with her thoughts. If the guards hadn’t restrained her at the Quietus, she might have murdered Authority Brenda with her bare hands. Art was barely gone but she already missed him desperately.

But just as she had nearly resigned to trudge over to the cafeteria alone, another option came to mind.

She could talk to Art. In fact, she could talk to anyone she’d ever lost. All she had to do was ask. Tosh equivocated for a moment, then decided this was as good a time as any. No one would have to know.

“IDA,” she said. “I want to talk to Arthur Behrens’ Legacy.”

The screen on the wall flashed to life and displayed a dossier on Art.

“Citizen Arthur Behrens. Born March 12, 2108. Died March 13, 2183. Confirm identity of desired Legacy.”

Tosh’s mouth was dry. This went against everything she stood for, but she felt adrift. What could it hurt?

“Confirmed.”

The dossier slid away and Art’s face faded into view. He looked down at her and smiled.

“Hey, stranger.”

She sucked in breath and her hands flew to her face. There he was. Not in the flesh, but still. Just the sound of his voice made her eyes sting. Her body was racked with sobs.

His face contorted with concern. “You’re upset. I hope it’s not on my account.”

My god, it’s so real.

“I’m having a hard time.”

He sighed. “Well, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s really good to see you, too.” If she’d found a magic lamp and a genie granted her one wish at that moment, it would’ve been to talk to Art. And now she was. What was that old saying about technology being indistinguishable from magic?

“I miss you,” she said, blubbering like a little girl. She didn’t try to control it.

“It’s nice to be missed. So, are you excited about the Fifth Epoch?”

Tosh guffawed. It was like Art to tease her about that. They both thought it was ridiculous. “At least your sense of humor is intact.”

Art cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“The Epoch. Don’t worry — I’ll stand all the way at the back like you said.”

“Why would you want that? You can’t see from way back there. You might miss out.”

He was serious. Art Behrens would never be serious about the Epoch. Beneath his sunny exterior was a deep well of cynicism that gave her a run for her money. “Good news? There’s never any good news here.”

“I mean, it’s not every day that you get to peek outside. If it’s bad news, well, at least you know you’re safe in the Dome.”

She squinted at him. This wasn’t Art Behrens — it was an AI version of him programmed to deliver whatever the listener needed to hear. Most people couldn’t tell the difference, or at least, they wouldn’t care because it felt so good to think the dead weren’t really dead. But it was just more bullshit.

“Art, do you remember what you said to Owen on our last walk together?”

He nodded knowingly. “Of course, I remember. Among other things, I told him about my first kiss with Betsy Carstensen.”

They’d been near the Nucleus when he said that. There must be Listeners all over those stones.

“What about later? On the perimeter Arc?” Tosh asked.

“Oh, I’m sure I just went on about something or another. Do you remember what I talked about?”

Art’s Legacy sat there smiling at her for several seconds, waiting for her to fill in the obvious blanks in his database records.

“No,” she said, wiping her eyes. “That’s all I wanted to ask. IDA, end conversation.”

The screen blinked out again. If she was ever going to do this, now was the time. A theory was already well formed but it needed another firm layer.

“IDA, I want to speak with Daisuke Yamamura’s Legacy.”

Her father’s dossier appeared for her confirmation, followed by his smiling face. Her father rarely smiled. She’d forgotten some of the details of his face — the spiky black hair. The keen, inquisitive eyes. The frown lines at the corners of his mouth. It was hard to know what to feel.

“Toshiko,” he said warmly. “I’ve been waiting a long time to speak with you.”

“Hey, Dad.”

Legacies were meant to encourage learning from the past. A way for every generation to pass its knowledge down to future ones. To soften the pain of loss. It sounded good and it made logical sense. But this was no more her father than the turf in the Agora was grass.

“How are you? You look well,” he said.

“I need to know what you were doing in the FPC the day you disappeared.”

His face knotted into a similar mask of concern as Art. IDA was reading her expression and body chemistry to extrapolate her emotional state. “You must mean the day I died. I know you’ve never been able to accept what happened to me and your mother, but I promise you — there is no great mystery. I indulged a misguided fantasy and we both paid the price. It was a terrible mistake.”

“You didn’t make mistakes,” she asserted. “You would never have set off an O 2alarm unless you had no other choice.”

“I was wrong to do that. I know it didn’t make things easy for you. But it was a mistake, Toshiko. I see that now.”

Contrition? A mistake? Not her father. He was bullshit, too. Everything was.

“IDA, end conversation.”

Rage filled her. She stood, grabbed her steel ration bottle, and with a primal scream, hurled it at the screen as hard as she could. It was shatterproof or it wouldn’t have withstood a century of use, but she cracked it. By god, she cracked it.

Eighty thousand names were carved into the Nucleus at the center of the Agora. The memorial comprised giant stone monoliths arranged in concentric circles. They cut into the last stone five years earlier, but no one knew what happened when they ran out of room. Would they add another ring? Were there extra stones collecting dust in the Stores?

Tosh touched her fingers to the names Daisuke and Minori Yamamura, adjacent to the gap in the second ring. She didn’t come there often but knew exactly where they were. Byron squeezed her hand.

“You okay?” he asked.

“My IDA screen might need fixing.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you later.”

Dee held his other hand. They wound through the stones as a unit until they returned to the outer ring again, where Art’s name had been freshly added. There was only room for maybe 300 more. Tosh kissed her fingers and pressed them to the sharp edges of the A in Arthur.

“Shall we?” Byron asked, nodding toward a spot near the edge of the Agora. “I think Owen’s staked a claim.”

“Sure,” Tosh said, and followed him out into the growing throngs.

Ordinarily, skipping the Epoch wouldn’t raise many eyebrows. But now, with paranoia about sabotage at a fever pitch, sitting it out would look suspicious.

Speaking of which, she still hadn’t seen Dek, but he knew where to look for them. He’d probably come trotting along after Elle’s speech was almost over.