Humbug (The Unwinding of Ebenezer Scrooge): A Science Fiction Adventure, page 17
Was it envy?
Of course not. He didn’t want to be in the blistering cold with snot running over his lips and snow melting down his back. Who would?
If he was honest, he would. But he was an adult. Had been for a very, very long time.
Eb smudged the glass. His fingertip slowly numbed.
He wanted what they had. Whatever that was.
But they know something.
That redundant line of code was their super-secret language. What was it doing in the program?
Perhaps they overheard Jacob, that in the wee hours of the night he would sing them off to sleep with his lines of mystery code instead of lullabies. Did his childhood friend know he was going to die? He had an ironclad agreement in place that Eb would have to take these little orphans into his castle. And now they spoke the language of a program that was somehow visiting him on Christmas Eve.
He needed to get to the bottom of this. The program needed to be unraveled and blotted out of existence. Not another word from stretched-out weirdos and ropey-haired bullies. But who could he trust? Who would investigate without word getting out? If the world discovered these nightmares, he’d be branded a psycho. A mentally unstable sociopath.
They already do.
“Why, old friend?” Eb whispered onto the window. “Why do this to me?”
“I’m here to help you, sir.”
Eb thumped the glass with his forehead and rolled his shoulders against the door.
“I’m sorry, sir. I thought you were calling me.”
“Don’t… ever…” His breathing slowed.
This droid wasn’t wearing a scarf. He wore a wry smile, one that seemed to have scraped an ounce of pleasure from the surprise even while retaining the usual repose of servitude. Jacob had given the droid the irritating sense of humor. You won’t be lonely, old friend, he had said.
“Is everything all right, sir? You seem relieved yet troubled.”
“I think, um…” Eb peeked through the window. The girls were back in their snow forts.
“What is it, sir?”
“Shhhh.” Eb shoved his finger over the droid’s lips, leaned in and whispered, “He’s haunting me.”
“Who, sir?”
“Jacob.”
“I know, sir.”
Eb stepped back. For a moment, it seemed the betrayal was finally in plain sight.
“Two years ago, sir. He projected into your room shortly after his untimely death.”
“What? No, no, I’m not talking… he’s doing it now, you ding-dong. The dreams. He’s the one—” Eb looked around “—he’s making the dreams happen.”
In a very rare instance, the droid was speechless.
“The girls.” Eb mouthed the words and pointed outside. “I think they know.”
“Why are we whispering, sir?”
“Shhhhhh!”
This time he clamped his sweaty palm over the droid’s mouth, the skinwrap lips plasticky and slightly sticky. Warm putty.
“Go, get.” Eb pointed to the back of the house. “The study, now.”
“The study, sir?”
“You know what I’m talking about, go now. Not another word.”
Eb mounted his Segway and sped to the back of the house. Just past the second-floor master bathroom was a narrow hallway, the lights dim and yellow. This part of the house was set deep in the metamorphic rock of the mountain. The hallway split in two directions.
Eb turned right.
He was beginning to chatter when the double doors were in sight. Big, loopy gold rings hung from tarnished plates. The furnace couldn’t expel the dank, frigid spirit in this part of the Castle.
Inside was an old-fashioned study with velvet loungers and polished furniture. A humidifier hummed in the corner. An ornate rug was centered on hardwood, imported directly from India. The atmosphere smelled of rare books and tobacco smoke, despite the fact he’d read not a single book or lit one of many pipes in the display case.
Eb shrugged a leisure coat over his shoulders, the silky lining cool. The droid’s hurried footsteps slapped down the hall. Eb waved for him to slide the study door closed and only then did he reach for the bookshelf. Next to an original Edgar Allen Poe was a frayed and faded copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Eb had never read it, but that wasn’t the point.
He slid it halfway out, turned it so the spine pointed down then shoved it back in place.
The bookshelf clicked.
Gears turned.
The towering wall of books lifted up then silently swung open. The whole charade was corny and cliché—a secret panel activated by an obscure book (most people would try The Tell-Tale Heart, he reasoned)—but so corny and cliché no one would expect it.
Eb slipped into the safe room.
The light was warm; the air incurably cool.
A fireplace roared to life, a dragon exhaling gas flames to expel the dank spirits. A small table was to the left, a pantry with a year’s worth of food and water—the inventory checked monthly for expired goods. A couch was to the right, a desk with an assortment of monitors and controls next to that.
The walls were embedded with metal screening, a faraday cage that shielded against electrostatic and electromagnetic eavesdroppers.
The ultimate man cave.
The secret door snapped shut. The lock bolted into place. The droid waited patiently. Eb hogged the fire’s warmth.
“Would you care to explain what we’re hiding from, sir?”
“From inquiring minds, dummy.” Eb pointed at the bookshelf. Out there, someone could hear what he was about to say. From now on, he needed to be careful who heard what.
“Minds, sir?”
He sighed. There was so much to understand. He had just put it all together. Where to start? The rings grew hot on his swollen fingers. He twisted them off—they were useless in the man cave anyway—and turned his backside to the flames.
“Here’s the deal,” he started.
The droid cocked his head and listened to the conspiracy spew out in no particular order. No interruptions, no attempts at rational explanations or logical thought. He just listened. Eb occasionally paced the room before returning to the fire, adjusting his glasses and tapping his chin to process another batch of thoughts.
The mysterious program used all of Avocado’s resources to communicate with the Castle on Christmas Eve. Coincidence?
No way.
The only code to be mined from the cryptic operation was nonsense babble that sounded like who? The girls. Fluke?
Not a chance.
And it all started after a stupid ghost appeared. The whole thing had Jacob’s fingerprints all over it.
“And why would Jacob do this, sir?” The droid posed the question without sarcasm.
“Who knows?” He tapped his chin. “We’ve got to put a stop to this.”
Eb dug through the desk drawer, scrawled a string of letters across a sticky note and shoved it at the droid.
“You’ve heard this, right?”
“Well, it—”
“It sounds just like them, don’t pretend. That’s their secret little language, and guess where I found it. Huh? Guess.”
“It was part of the code, sir.”
“How’d you know?”
“You just told me, sir.”
“I didn’t say it was the code.”
The droid took the sticky note. “I think rest would do you good, sir. Perhaps a little fresh air. I know where we could find a friendly snowball fight. I think you would enjoy it.”
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you? I’m making all this up. Wake up and listen. Facts are facts. There is a mysterious program; I am having nightmares at exactly the same time that program starts. The same program with redundant code that sounds exactly like the girls he sent to my house!”
Eb pointed up then around the room. His sense of direction, of where the front door was located, was upside down.
“They just make sounds, sir. It doesn’t always mean something.”
“Don’t make excuses!”
“They’re seven-year-old girls, sir. Not spies.”
“You’re biased. You like them.”
“You don’t, sir?”
A strange sound escaped his gaping mouth. The sound that would escape a frog if a curious little boy picked it up. He was supposed to like them. He was their legal guardian. He did like them.
But they also scared him.
“Will you be staying here, sir?”
“For now. I need to think.”
“Do you still want me to acquire medicine, sir?”
“No, no, aren’t you listening? This isn’t about me anymore, dummy. I want you to analyze the house. Reboot the security system, scan for viruses, reset the passwords, and shut down anything that looks suspicious.”
Eb made a shaky, chin-tapping loop around the room.
“Contact Avocado. Have them do the same thing.”
“On Christmas, sir?”
“Yes, on Christmas. Have you not heard a single thing I’ve said? We can’t be too careful. My… my life is on the line here.”
The eye roll was back, a deep sigh escaping the droid.
“You think I’m joking?”
“I think you need to give the therapist another chance, sir.”
“Not in a million years. No one can know about this, you understand? No one.” Eb grabbed a handful of the droid’s baggy sweatshirt and tried to shake some sense into the synthetic dimwit. “We need to find out who’s in on this.”
“Besides the girls, sir?”
“Yeah, besides the girls,” Eb whined. “I know the program is behind the madness. We need to stop it. And then we need to find out why he’s doing it.”
“You believe there are others, sir? Besides Jacob?”
“There has to be.”
The droid patted his shoulder before turning for the exit. The doorway popped on its hinges, cool air sucking through the sealed opening.
“You’re the only one I can trust,” Eb said.
The droid paused in the doorway, gray hand gripping the edge. A twist of compassion turned the corner of his mouth. He cocked his head.
“I’m here to help you, sir.”
With a slight nod, he pulled the door closed behind him. The lock clicked into place. Eb warmed his backside at the fire. He didn’t really trust the droid, but it was better he said that than what initially came to mind.
You’re the only one I have.
TWENTY-TWO
~
4:20 p.m.
The droid filled Natty’s mug. It was her third cup of cocoa. She leaned against the kitchen table with a chocolatey smile.
Addy was still working on her first. Half of it went down in short slurps and long giggles. Upon request, the droid had filled the mug with miniature marshmallows. Addy stirred the sugary muck until the droid began dancing a silly dance—upon Natty’s request. A fountain of cocoa erupted between Addy’s lips then her fingers, spraying the dolls sitting in the bowl of bananas.
Cursed dolls.
Such simple toys. They could have anything they wanted and they chose those little tokens of voodoo. If the droids weren’t spying, Eb would switch the big-eyed, ragged gingers out with something a little less germ-ridden. The arms were gray, the legs discolored from sleeping drool and now freckled with hot cocoa.
Natty whispered behind her hand. Sludgy cocoa dripped from Addy’s chin, spotting the floor. Despite the secretive tone, the words transcribed across Eb’s monitor.
Gubbubbgubbuh.
Another line of gibberish was captured through the droid’s amplified auditory system and piped directly to Eb’s monitor. From there, it would go to IT for analysis.
Their little language would be decoded. No more secrets. No more program.
No more dreams.
The droid chased the girls with a pair of banana tusks. Eb muted the squealing. After three laps around the kitchen island, he snapped the monitor off and returned to the recent analysis.
The house was clean. All scans reported no anomalies. A second scan confirmed it. The only thing to do now was build a bigger and better firewall around the house system. He could always unplug from the world, but how would he communicate with Avocado?
He wasn’t going out in public.
The safe room sofa was reasonably comfortable. Depending on what happened, the little room might become long term. The ache in his back hoped it wouldn’t.
The newsfeeds blathered from flat-screen monitors. Eb propped a tablet on his belly, dragging data with his fingertip. He missed his rings already.
“You rang, sir?” The droid’s dull gray head appeared on the tablet.
“Any news?”
“You mean since you called five minutes ago, sir?”
“The girls blabbered all through your cocoa party. What did IT say about it?”
“They’re analyzing, sir.”
That was his fibbing tone. How long did they expect Eb to wait? He couldn’t live in the safe room forever.
“Would you care for something to eat, sir?”
“Have they been acting differently? Did they ask about me? Did they say anything about dreams? Are they getting weird?”
“If little girls are weird, sir, then yes.”
“What about the dolls?”
“What about them, sir?”
“Are they… doing stuff with them?”
“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Just… they’re creepy. I don’t get it. What’s the deal?”
“I’m not taking away their dolls, sir.”
“How did Natty get that doll back anyway?”
“You asked me this already, sir. Are you lonely?”
“No, I’m fine. I just want this to be over.”
“Your dreams didn’t say to hide from the world, sir. Quite the opposite, in fact. They want you to be in the world.”
“How do you know that?” he snapped.
“You told me, sir.”
“They’re not dreams, let’s be clear. This is sabotage. Harassment. Someone will pay for my pain and suffering.”
The droid’s expression drooped. “I won’t be a part of this, sir.”
“Of what?”
“You’re shrinking from the world, sir. Running away. I can’t support that.”
He placed the tablet facedown. His gray face was more condescending than his voice.
“I beg your pardon, but I am running at the problem. We’re investigating this invasion. You can’t torture people in their sleep, you know. It’s against the law.”
“Will you have your subconscious arrested, sir?”
“Just shut up.”
“And what if these… dreams… were real, sir? Would that make it any different?”
“They’re not real, so no.”
“Let’s say they’re accurate, sir. If they really are your future and present life, would you still be doing this, sir?”
“Yep.”
Eb flipped through the newsfeeds while the droid reasoned with him. Any other time he would have shut him off. He needed to hear a voice, even if it annoyed him.
He settled on the gossip newsfeed. One of the fashionistas appeared. Pink Stripe was long gone, and the second one, the one with the piercings, disappeared shortly after her. Eb liked the third one, the baldy with tiny glasses. He was fair.
“And you’re satisfied with that, sir?” the droid said for the third time.
“Happy as a clam.”
“I see, sir. The caterpillar is content until it sees the butterfly soar.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“I’m making…”
His voice faded from Eb’s attention. An avocado appeared on the gossip newsfeed. With a hand gesture, he upped the volume.
“Jerri called again, sir. It’s the fifth time this afternoon. I really think you should talk to her—”
“Shhhh.”
“She’s at the office, sir. She’s concerned about the recent activity…”
He crossed the room in three steps. The monitor loomed over him, flickering images of mountain ranges and sweeping hilltops. The view was familiar. The footage zoomed through valleys, between dense forests and above whitewater rapids. It passed between massive tree trunks and squeezed between rocks until it emerged onto an open plain.
The Castle was on the far side.
It closed the distance while the fashionista with the tiny glasses commented on the stealth drone video.
“You need to see this,” he said, “before it gets taken down.”
The room swayed with the view, the ground tipping in gut-liquefying turns on a crash course. It reached the foot of the cliff. The view turned up and soared in front of the castle. The image of a drone sped past mirrored windows.
“The mysterious uploader,” Tiny Glasses said, “managed to steer a drone through security to get a close-up of Ebenezer Scrooge’s ridiculous mansion.”
Ridiculous? Eb cringed.
The snarky tone gave him away. Tiny Glasses knew who the mystery uploader was. It wasn’t him, but he knew.
The drone looped around for another pass. The droids were on both sides of the driveway, in the middle of their snowball fight. Addy and Natty must’ve been in their snow forts, hidden from view.
The drone slowed at the Castle’s second floor and turned at the corner where long expanses of mirrored windows covered the building. The quadcopter’s reflection hovered in front of it, the view coming into focus.
Then it blurred.
“You see that?” Tiny Glasses said.
“Is that what I think it is?” someone answered.
A vague blob was behind the glass. Both of them played along like they didn’t know.
“A little digital enhancement,” Tiny Glasses said, “and look at that.”
The mirror pixelated.
The edges of the amorphous shadow sharpened. A pear-shaped figure was staring back. It lifted its arm and appeared to dig a finger into its nostril.
“Oh God,” Eb muttered.
“Behold,” Tiny Glasses announced, “the great Loch Ness of shut-ins, the Sasquatch of the rich and cranky, the man unseen by the world in almost a decade.”
