Humbug (The Unwinding of Ebenezer Scrooge): A Science Fiction Adventure, page 18
“Is that who I think it is?” the cohost chortled.
“We can’t say. Legal reasons, you know.”
Eb teetered backwards and fell on the sofa, his head thumping the wall.
“We can say that we think it is a male that does very well in the technology industry,” Tiny Glasses said.
“Interesting.”
“And there’s more, the mystery uploader promised.”
The view jerked upside down. In a tumbling freefall, the drone crashed to the ground, shattering on the boulders below.
Eb windmilled his arms but couldn’t wave his body off the sofa. “Are you watching this? Dum-dum! Are you watching?”
There was a pause. “Yes, sir.”
“What am I seeing? What am I watching?”
An audible sigh escaped the tablet. “The drone was intercepted but not before it neared the Castle, sir. I didn’t expect much to come of it and didn’t want to worry you.”
“Did you see what they did?”
That was Eb behind the glass. That was his unmistakable grotesque body. He knew it. Thanks to Tiny Glasses and the mysterious uploader, the world would know it, too.
“It’s speculation, sir.”
“Speculation? It was me!”
“It is you, sir.”
“I don’t like it.” Eb held the tablet with stiff arms, the droid’s pallid face looking back. “I don’t like!”
“The legal team, sir?”
“Now!”
“The lawyers are rather tied up, sir. You may have to hire more.”
“I don’t care if we have to buy the Supreme Court, get that video off the Internet and start suing.”
A slimy spring of fear oozed from his mid-region. He was ill with grossness. His privacy had been violated. They almost saw him. The real him! It was only an outline, but close enough.
“Jerri’s calling, sir. Do you want to take it?”
“I want someone to murder that footage.” The view was starting over. “And send down food.”
“In that order, sir?”
“Do it at the same time. There are seven of you.”
Eb slammed the tablet off the cushion. It bounced onto the floor. The droid’s face fractured. Eb kicked it across the room and cursed the stinging pain in his big toe.
The weight of his stupid mountain was crushing him.
TWENTY-THREE
~
A block of meat loaf sat on the table.
The mixture of cold meat and perspiration made for a peculiar scent. Bluish light strobed across the left side of Eb’s face; a variety of entertainment gossip overlapped with current events and political forecasting.
Occasionally, a word or statement yanked him away from the document on his tablet. If his name was mentioned, heart palpitations followed. The rogue video footage hadn’t appeared on any newsfeeds since 5:25 p.m.
It was now 6:45 p.m.
His team aggressively wiped out the uploads and threatened newsfeeds that were showing it. Nothing they could do about the talking heads, no way to wipe them out or make them forget. Eb, neither.
That enormous, disgusting shadow was me.
There were ways to scrub his memory. Avocado had experimented with technology to whitewash traumatizing experiences in the brain. Jacob envisioned it helping victims of childhood abuse, those suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder or schizophrenia. Trials were indefinitely suspended when the American Psychological Association vehemently opposed the practice.
The technology was still at Avocado. He’d have to go there or have it shipped. Option one was never going to happen. Option two would take too long.
Eb broke a bite off the meat loaf. He pecked at the tablet, dabbing the cracked glass with greasy fingerprints, and typed corrections to the public statement. This was the third round of edits. He wanted it out by 10:00 p.m. The PR rep told him to wait a week. She also told him to stay off the newsfeeds, that this would all blow over. And whatever he did, do not even think of making a public appearance.
She didn’t have to worry about the last part.
He wasn’t leaving the safe room. Maybe ever.
But how could she expect him to ignore the newsfeeds? Seriously. They were talking about him. We have it under control, she said. Just get some rest. Let us spin this.
That wasn’t how he rolled.
The tablet whooshed the corrected statement into cyberspace. More angry vinegar needed drizzled into the wording.
You’re the victim, the PR rep said. They invaded your privacy, remember that. We want the public on your side.
There was no they out there. Eb knew exactly who the mysterious uploader was. So did Tiny Glasses.
Pink Stripe.
That paint-face had it in for Eb ever since he got her sacked. It wasn’t his fault she was incompetent. Why take it out on him?
I am the victim.
The verbal chaos suddenly faded beneath the echo of a water droplet. The monitors rippled. The droid’s face appeared. His coarse-textured brow furrowed.
“Watching the newsfeeds is not helping, sir.”
“Neither is that meat loaf.”
“Jerri is calling, sir. It’s the tenth time. I’m just guessing here, but I believe it’s urgent.”
Eb snapped the tablet shut. He couldn’t avoid her forever. She’d been at the plant most of the day. He needed her to take care of things while he mopped up this mess but didn’t want her to hear the quiver in his voice. Did she see the blob?
“Take the call, sir.”
“She can’t see me, right?”
“No one can, sir.”
“You can.”
“Of course I can, sir. No one else, I promise.”
After a short pace, Eb fell on the couch and hugged a cushion. It wasn’t enough cover. He pulled the blanket over him. He couldn’t be too careful.
“Perfect, sir.” The droid raised his brows. “I’ll put her through.”
The monitors blinked.
A cluttered desk appeared. A woman stood at a glass wall overlooking the plant. The avocado glowed in the distance. She turned and stopped, eyes darting over the desk.
“Eb? Is that you?”
The frayed ends of the blanket tickled his cheeks. His breath was hot.
“I can hear you breathing.” She approached the desk. “Did he take the call, Jenks?”
“Who’s Jenks?” Eb said.
“Eb? The picture’s black. Is that you?”
“Who were you talking to?”
Jerri leaned on the desk. Her face was without makeup, her gray hair held back with a black band. Her eyes held a thousand questions and a load of concern.
“Are you all right?” she said.
“Technical issue,” Eb said. “Security. Can’t be too careful. Who’s Jenks?”
“Sorry. Your droid reminded me of another project. I saw the footage,” she said. “How are you doing?”
“Everything I love has been taken from me. Other than that, I’m good.”
“I know how much your privacy means to you and how hard Christmas is.”
Eb lowered the blanket. “Why are you at the plant?”
“Kyle called. I thought I should come in and supervise. This is a big deal, Eb. This mystery program is some sort of viral infection; I think it needs to be taken seriously.”
“What… what did he tell you?”
“I thought you were running the program, Eb. I didn’t know it was… I-I’m sorry. Kyle told me about the dataflow and the strange patterns connected with your house.”
“What else?”
“It’s under control, Eb. The program has been sequestered. He wants to bring in some outside contractors to look at it.”
“He can’t do that.” The blanket fell on the floor.
“Don’t worry. I told him not to. We need to keep this in-house until we know more.” She pulled the hair band out and fixed it back in place. “You had a rough night, huh?”
“How do you know?”
“Your droid said you didn’t sleep much. Want to talk about it?”
“What did he tell you?”
“He just said it was a long night.”
“Why are you there, Jerri?”
“This is urgent, Eb. Why do you think?”
“It’s Christmas. Don’t you have family?”
“This coming from the man who dismantled holiday spirit at the plant? I’m surprised you didn’t call for all hands on deck.”
A small part of his brain considered turning on his video so she could see his leer. Hearing him just didn’t have the same effect. Everyone was suspect. Anything out of the ordinary was to be examined. And Jerri coming in on Christmas?
Top of the list.
“A herd of reindeer couldn’t drag you in on Christmas and you come dancing in like eight maids a-milking?”
“Last night,” she said with a heavy sigh, “I was with some friends—”
“No, no. No, no. Don’t want to know about last night.”
His sanity was too thin to support any corroboration with the dream. Because it was a dream. A dream manufactured by that dreaded program. That was the only fact that kept the ground from crumbling beneath him.
“Just tell me why you’re there,” he said. “What are you up to, Jerri?”
“What am I…? There’s a program running incognito in the Avocado mainframe that’s feeding your castle and you’re building a public relations nuclear bomb and I’m supposed to do nothing? I understand you’re hurt, Eb; you feel victimized, but you can’t order the PR team to seed the newsfeeds with juicier rumors about fabricated celebrity double murders so they’ll forget about you.”
She snatched a page from her desk.
“You want to spread rumors that the president has a glass eye that can shoot a laser, that the Canadian prime minister has a secret puppet fetish, and the head of a major motion picture company is really a droid? This is your answer?”
She wadded her notes. They thudded in an empty trash can.
“You can’t do that, Eb. You can’t have our entire legal department prepare subpoenas for every newsfeed that ran the story. You can’t sue the world, Eb. So why am I in here? To keep you from burning down the entire company!”
Eb grabbed the couch cushion. “You want me to just do nothing?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yes, Eb. I want you to sit there and do nothing. That’s exactly what you need to be doing right now. Listen to the people around you.”
Listening to others didn’t make him a mountain of cash. Eb followed his own instinct, made his own decisions. He got to where he was by listening to his own thoughts and no one else’s.
It also occurred to him that he was currently hiding in a basement.
“I’m worried about you, Eb. Your droid—”
“Dum-dum. His name is Dum-dum, not Jenks.”
She chuckled briefly. It took a moment for her thoughts to gather. “That’s part of the problem, the way you treat others. Even a droid.”
“He’s a machine. He’s not real, Jerri. You do know that.”
She stepped back from the cluttered desk. Had she aged in the twenty minutes they’d been talking? She looked so tired.
“Rick’s leaving, Eb.”
“Leaving what?”
“He took another offer. We need to start looking for his replacement. I don’t think I need to tell you how important he is to Avocado, do I?”
The cushion collapsed in Eb’s grasp. He clawed the fabric like a crumbling ledge. Feet dangling. A high-pitched whine rang in his ears, the sound that follows a swift knock between the eyes.
“Eb?”
He cleared his throat.
“This is a big loss,” she said.
“Uh-huh.”
“We’re going to need everyone on their game going into the New Year. Including you. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
He wasn’t in the mood for a pitch for the medical program again. This was DEFCON 1, not what side dish to bring to the company picnic. Eb was already spinning as many dishes as a human could balance.
The sound of breaking china was all around.
“There’s a…” He took his glasses off and wiped them with his shirt. “He’s got a… the non-compete clause in his contract. He can’t just go anywhere.”
“That’s not going to make him stay, Eb. He doesn’t want to work here anymore. Do you know why?”
Eb swallowed. The answer was coming. The itch was too tempting, the ache too deep. The dots were connecting.
Because it has to be a dream.
“Did he… tell you?” Eb said. “Like at his house or something?”
“There’s an email.” She exhaled. “You obviously haven’t read yours.”
There was a soft knock. Jerri held up a finger and opened the door. There was a mumbling conversation about operations and protocol. With Jerri there, the fire was under control. Eb released the headlock on the cushion, wondering if he was more relieved that she was handling the crisis or that Rick had sent her an email.
Where would Avocado be without her? Where would he be? She was efficient, lovely and loyal beyond reason. Despite being an office hoarder—she threw away nothing, not even a paperclip—she was always Jacob’s favorite.
For good reason.
Someone from IT came into her office and showed her something on a second monitor. It was tilted at an angle so Eb could see the messages. He nudged Jerri’s clutter aside to make room for a notepad. Pens and folders and books spilled over the edge. Jerri picked up the mess without taking her eyes off the monitor, stacking the office debris on the corner.
She placed two little gifts on top.
“Let me know when you find out.” She walked him to the door and leaned against the glass wall. Eb’s office was on the other side of the floor, the lights off. The desk empty.
Arms crossed, she stared.
Eb breathed into the cushion again, eyes perched just above the frilly trim, fixated on the corner of her desk. The gifts hung over the edge.
“Take some time, Eb,” she said. “Take a vacation; let PR handle the chaos. I’ll handle the rest. Okay?”
He began to rock.
“Eb?”
She sat down. The wheels squeaked forward. “I know some good people to talk to, help manage the stress. I do the same; it keeps me sane. Jacob, too. I’d really like to see you come down here to the plant sometime. Not your projection.”
She sat back, pointing at his darkened office across the floor.
“I can’t remember the last time I saw you,” she said. “Just something to think about, okay? This will be waiting for you when you get here.”
Her chair protested the forward lean. She bulldozed the office debris off the corner and grabbed both gifts. Eb followed them with his eyes. She held one in the palm of her hand, the shiny ribbon red. The green wrapping paper. The little tag hanging off the corner, sparkly gold ink.
“Merry Christmas,” she said. “This one’s for you. We all got one.”
He didn’t need to ask from whom.
TWENTY-FOUR
~
FLAMES ROARED UP THE flue, yellow tongues darting through the screen, baking the room with a fierce, dry heat. If a goose lay on the hearth, it would’ve been well done.
Clothing lay like shed skin. Damp socks balled up, a pit-stained shirt wadded in the corner. Only a pair of boxers covered Eb’s glossy body—the elastic band biting the flesh beneath his overlapping stomach, a dark V of perspiration pointing at the floor.
Sweat dripped from his chins, rivulets puddling around his elbows, finding a crooked path to his fingertips, where they clung momentarily. His glasses slid down his nose until they teetered on the bulbous knob. He pushed them up, ignoring the flashing light recording his madness.
He ignored the time, the schedule.
“Oh my, sir.” The droid entered, waving his hand.
Eb licked the sweat from his lip.
“The fire has been turned up dangerously high, sir. Perhaps we should extinguish it for inspection.”
It was indeed dangerous. The gas key had been maxed out. The room was nearly an oven, a bakery to incinerate guilt and fear and confusion, to cremate the delusions.
He was free falling.
“Your call with Jerri did not go well, sir?”
The droid pretended not to know what happened, pretended the gift that Jerri presented to Eb was the exact same gift Rick had passed out before leaving. It was a gift that revealed the true nature of his delusion, that the dreadlock man was real. That it was not a dream.
That ground below him was crumbling.
“It’s late, sir. Christmas is almost over, you’ll be happy to know. We can put this year behind us and start a new year very soon. And you haven’t touched your food.” Dishes clattered, a knife fell. “Perhaps we can move back into the house now. I have taken the liberty of pulling all the shades and curtains. There are no views left open, I assure you. You will not be able to see out, and no one will see inside. Shall I draw you a bath?”
“Have you been watching?” Eb said.
Thoughts swirled through him, a blizzard of embers streaking across his mind, twirling and clashing, searing his soul, eating the pit of his stomach. The depths of despair had no bottom. His feet dangled above a hungry pit, black and toothy.
“Would you care to talk about it, sir?”
Care to talk about it? No one could swim through a riptide of insanity and talk about it. He would inhale the foul current should he open his mouth, would sink to the very bottom.
Those were not dreams.
Despite the impending madness, he knew what to do. When he was trapped in fear, when hurt and confusion fell like stones, he reverted to coping skills he’d learned as a child and did what he always did to survive.
He took that hurt and sculpted a stone to hurl.
“Perhaps I can get you something fresh to wear, sir?”
Eb ignored the droid and pulled on the sour clothing that was more than damp. The shirt stuck to his back, the pant legs clung to his thighs. The droid helped him pull on the socks and held the robe for him to thread his arms. Damp footsteps marked his exit.
