John Barnes - Daybreak Zero

“Besides, having me pay for it, in public, will do you a thousand times more good as an example than I would as a research subject. Just hit the obvious themes about it: nobody’s above the law, nobody’s too big to be seized by Daybreak, be alert, never never never talk to it, fight it. Don’t save my reputation; you can’t afford to have anyone find anything attractive about this.”

The sun descended; it was inadvisable to let Arnie talk without interruption, but what he seemed to want to do most was just share memories with Heather, about the time before Daybreak, so they took turns interrupting him, encouraging him to skip from one memory to another.

When the time came, as Arnie rose to take the final walk, James said, “Arnie, I know you’ve been touching a piece of paper in your pocket. I have to ask to see it.”

Arnie reached for his pocket and collapsed in a howling seizure. Heather and MaryBeth pinned him down; James picked that pocket. The guards rushed in.

When Arnie was tied to a stretcher, Heather said, “We knew this might happen. We’ll proceed with the plan for the seizure; frankly I hope he doesn’t come out.”

James showed Heather and MaryBeth the note:

Arnie woke up as the stretcher neared the scaffold, but he was too weak to walk, and too disoriented to maintain any dignity. The militiamen lifted him from the stretcher, bound his hands behind him, strapped the sandbag to his feet, hooded him, and fitted the greased aircraft-cable noose to his neck (“uglier but faster than rope,” MaryBeth had promised). In the little square of the trap door, he was weeping, and struggling for his balance, and when he asked Heather for a last hug, his own whining tone must have humiliated him.

She held him tight and close, and said, “Over quick, now. All be over quick. Just stay quiet, now, Arnie. I’m so sorry.”

The muffled sound might have been “Thank you” or “Fuck you.” His breathing was harsh and irregular; MaryBeth said, softly, “He’s close to another seizure.”

“Go in peace, Arn.” Heather hugged him hard, one more time, and stepped back. Arnie had requested no chaplain, and he couldn’t be allowed to say anything to the crowd, so the executioner simply checked to make sure the trap was clear, and pulled the lever. The gallows worked perfectly; afraid of making a mess of things, the engineers had overdone everything, and Dr. Arnold Yang plummeted into a broken neck and pinched carotids.

The vast crowd made no sound until the massed low moan as Arnie dropped; they walked away as if they had all been part of some secret shame.

As soon as they lowered him and wheeled his body into the examining room, MaryBeth swiftly checked for a heartbeat, poured the ice water into the ear, focused a bright light on the pupils of each hideously protruding red eyeball. “All right. This man is dead.” She felt around the cable and added, “And unofficially, you’re lucky you didn’t decapitate him with this rig.”

In Heather’s office, after each of them had had a shot of whiskey, James said, “About that note,” and Heather said, “Yes, of course, you’re right. I’d know that messy block printing anywhere. It’s Allie.”

It was a fine clear October morning, the Indian summer kind that occasionally blesses the Arkansas Valley with clear amber light, a promise of a warm afternoon, and just enough tang in the chill morning air to make everything seem extra-alive, the last brief warmth before the plunge into icy winter. The sooty skies had brought the day about six weeks early, but early or not, the day still tasted clean and fine.

Recent trains had brought sharp cheese from Green Bay, canned spinach from Castle San Jose, and molasses from Morgan City. James had made cheese, elk sausage, and spinach turnovers and molasses and chokecherry muffins, and warmed up some elk sausage for Wonder, who ate with his flank pressed against Leslie.

“Funny how eating breakfast at your place feels like home,” Leslie said. “Got time before you go to work to take a walk down along the river?”

“I’m not going in to the GPO today. Heather’s going to be talking to me about a change of job over lunch. Okay for Wonder to finish off my scraps?”

“No problem, he can wait a day to start his diet.”

On their way down to the river, they barely spoke, not because they didn’t have things to say, but because it was all so overwhelming. Wonder showed no interest in chasing sticks, staying so close to Leslie that she occasionally tripped on him.

Finally, walking by the Arkansas, where ice rafts already floated by, James thought to ask, “So, did you find your place to be too much of a mess?”

“They’d tossed it but they weren’t too rough, I guess ’cause they were trying for thorough; all my underwear disappeared. When you see Heather, tell her she’s got a perv in the staff.” She knelt to scratch Wonder under his collar. “James, how the hell do I say ‘Thank you’?”

“You already did.”

“How about coming to Monday dinners forever? I mean, I know letting you cook for me is a pretty lame way to thank you—”

“It worked just fine this morning, I don’t know why it wouldn’t work forever.”

She reached out and lightly pushed his shoulder, palm flat against it, her little gesture for I like you, I want you to know I appreciate you, but never think it’s any more than that , and as he always did, for a split second he rested his hand on hers.

“Same old deal as before?”

“Always.”

“I’m so glad. So do you have to do anything before you meet with Heather? And when is that?”

“I need to be at Johanna’s at noon. Subject to that constraint, I’m all yours, as always.”

“You’re one of the sweetest deluded old farts I’ve ever allowed to feed me.” She socked him on the arm.

“Ow. Don’t abuse your elders. Isn’t it time for your nap?”

They walked as far as the last guard post along the Arkansas, catching up on gossip, criticizing the technique of the fishermen, and relishing the freedom and safety.

James was one of the higher-paid people in Pueblo, with a triple salary: he sat on the RRC Council, was a senior librarian at the GPO, and received a covert stipend from Heather’s black budget. So Heather was surprised that this was his first time at Johanna’s What There Is. “You can afford it,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “Before Daybreak, I was a civil servant with more than twenty years in, no debt, even a paid-for house. I could have afforded Cuban cigars and high-end French wines, but I don’t smoke and I prefer beer. Besides, Johanna and I are old buds from the local cooking club, and I happen to know I’m a better cook than she is.”

Heather laughed. “Well, let’s give Johanna a shot at beating you today. She was able to get fresh beef tongue, and she’s braised it in wine and onions.”

“That deserves reverence,” James agreed. “So no business till after.”

When they had finished, Heather said, “Here’s what I’m thinking. The position of chief research director is vacant. I want you.”

James gaped at her. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’ve never done anything remotely like—”

“None of us is in a job remotely like what we did before Daybreak.”

“I’ve never done research or managed more than two people—”

“Arnie only directed research when it had to do with crypto or semiotics, and didn’t supervise most of what we do. What he was, was my consigliere. And even before he took up treason, not a very good one, I’m afraid; bouncing ideas off him was sort of like hitting tennis balls against a wall of Jell-O, they always came back messy and often not recognizable. I need a person who wants to improve my thoughts, not make them more creative and subtle. Also somebody who can make it up as they go.”