Humbug (The Unwinding of Ebenezer Scrooge): A Science Fiction Adventure, page 3
Butler superpowers.
“It appears Jacob has uploaded his personality in the network, sir.”
Jacob pointed a finger. Bingo.
“It was part of his alternate reality program, sir. He’s been wearing electrodes along his scalp for the past year to upload thoughts and memories.”
“You mean, like the ones…” Eb stammered.
“Like the ones you wore the year before, sir.”
Eb had considered the wireless upload technology Jacob was proposing, but they already had enough controversial projects in the cooker. First the synthetic stem cells, then the unfettered artificial intelligence, and now memory upload? Too complicated, too risky. They’d run out of money before these innovations saw the light of profit.
That was why Eb opted for the glasses. Simplicity without a drop of risk.
“The extracted memories have been assembled into a comprehensive likeness of Jacob Marley, sir.”
That explains the stupid beany. Eb’s eyes widened, wondering if Jacob could hear his thoughts. Don’t be silly. He’s not magic.
Jacob smiled.
“How’d he get into the Castle?” Eb asked.
“I’m data,” Jacob said.
“Shhh for a second. You’re not real. Dum-dum, how’d he get in the Castle?”
“Um, he’s data, sir.”
Jacob punctuated the zinger with knee-whacking laughter. Eb ground his teeth, turning his back on his former best friend. Eb didn’t dream often—actually, hardly at all—but when he did, it was a doozy.
“I’m dead, Eb. I know that. I died suddenly of a heart defect, and you had nothing to do with it.”
“And how would you know it was a heart attack if the memories were uploaded before you died?”
“Newsfeeds, sir,” the droid interrupted. “His personality is an adaptive program.”
“Okay, all right. Enough,” Eb said.
“I know what you did, Eb.” Jacob’s voice turned very grave. He only did that when he disciplined employees or intimidated bullies. A chill dripped into Eb’s knees.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You changed my will, Eb.”
“I did… whaaat? Dum-dum, do you know what he’s—”
“You had our friend here change it during the funeral.”
Eb tapped his chin. This was serious. And not fair, really. When you died, you were supposed to stay dead, not come back and catch people doing things. Kind of crappy of him. What kind of dead friend did that?
“How do you know that?” Eb asked.
“The same way I knew of my death, simply watching the newsfeeds, monitoring the data. I know you converted my share of the company into your name.”
“Well, you had it going into some trust that would handcuff me, Jacob. What did you expect me to do, sit around and let someone run the company? That’s not what we had in mind.” Eb drew courage from his misplaced outrage and crossed the room. “I only did what’s right, Jacob.”
Jacob hummed.
When the lights came on, his body appeared no less solid than the lounger he was seated upon. His eyes twinkled in narrow, joyful slots, a gentle smile resting in the corners. He watched Eb approach warily, chuckling when he poked at him, his hand passing through the apparition.
Eb yanked his finger back. “You’re going to make me change?”
“No, Eb,” Jacob answered. “Only you can do that.”
“Do what?”
“Change.”
“Change what, Jacob? Be specific.”
“This isn’t a contract, Eb. You need to change. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Okay, good.” That didn’t make a lick of sense. Jacob was projecting into the room, clearly he was in the system. What was stopping him from changing a few ones and zeroes? What if he took all the shares away from Eb and put them all in a trust fund to help starving elephants or something?
“What do mean by ‘only you can do that’?” Eb said slowly.
“You’re going to change.”
Eb went to his bed and slid his feet into soft, velvety slippers, then smoothed the wrinkles from the silk sheets because he needed a moment. Jacob was elbow deep in double-talk and Eb was drowning.
He felt for the ring beneath the pillow, twisted it onto his right hand and looked back; Jacob was bouncing his foot, legs crossed like he did in negotiations when he was waiting for the other party to budge, which meant he’d set a trap and was just waiting for them to walk into it.
And they always did.
“This can’t be happening,” Eb said. “You’re dead, Jacob.”
“I know.”
“Don’t screw this up for me!” Eb shook a stiff finger at the apparition. Then he shook it at the droid. “You’re in on this.”
“I’m here to help you, sir.”
Always with the I’m here to help you, sir. It made Eb crazy, but it was what he wanted. If the droid would just do it and shut up.
Eb swung his wrath back to Jacob, the sly grin spreading out, his eyes disappearing in the narrowing lids, twinkling light still flashing his amusement.
“What happened to us, Eb?” he said. “Our friendship?”
“Friendships go away when you die.”
“You lost your way, my friend.”
“I have a mansion, Jacob. I have twenty-five cars in a subterranean garage. I have a shooting range in the attic. I have a helicopter, for crying out loud! I didn’t lose my way, I’m killing it out here, Jacob.”
“You’re a shut-in.”
“I choose to be alone. Big difference.”
“This wasn’t our dream.” Jacob waved his arms.
“Maybe not our dream, Jacob.”
Jacob groaned when he threw his weight forward. Eb flinched at the realism, edging a step closer to the droid, but his dead friend’s footsteps fell without a sound. He paced to the window and peeked between the heavy curtains without moving them. There was a view of the Rockies from that vantage point.
“Maybe you changed, ever thought of that?” Eb said. “We started this company to have fun, to make money.”
“Are you having fun?” he asked without turning.
“A blast. You wait and see what I do with the gaming division. It’s full speed ahead with virtual gaming and identity reflection. I’m taking us deep into entertainment. No more medical red tape. You can stay and watch if you want with… whatever you are now. Avocado, Inc., is about to hit warp speed.”
Jacob latched his hands behind his back. His favorite Indian hippie shirt bunched over his wrists. His persona was accurate in every creepy detail. He was even humming a Christmas tune.
“What do you want?” Eb asked. When Jacob didn’t answer, Eb turned to the droid. “What does he want?”
“Don’t ask me, sir.”
“Jacob? Did you come to haunt me with your awful version of ‘Silent Night,’ or can I go to sleep now? A lot of headhunting to do tomorrow, employees to sack, housecleaning, that sort of thing. If you don’t mind.”
Eb waved his hands, the rings powering down the lights, the computers, even the clocks. But Jacob was still there.
“How is he doing this?” Eb said.
The droid shrugged.
“Find out.”
This was unacceptable. A virus in the system. Was that what Jacob was, a loose bolt in a finely tuned ship?
“You’re right,” Jacob said. “I can’t change you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ll have to do it.”
“I promise I will. Scout’s honor. It’s almost one in the morning, Jacob. I’m sure you don’t sleep since you’re… whatever you are, but… if you’re finished—”
“Merry Christmas, Eb.”
“Yep.”
With that, Jacob turned with hands still clasped behind his back, the trademark smile concealing his true intentions.
“Very well, Jacob. Goodnight.”
Eb climbed into bed, ritually taking the ring from his right hand and placing it beneath the pillow before snapping the blindfold over his eyes. His head sinking into the pillow once again, he lay stiffly beneath the down comforter. He waited a minute then lifted the blindfold.
Jacob was still there.
“Oh, for God’s sake, man.” Eb slammed his fist on the mattress. “Have you no mercy?”
His features had darkened. Perhaps he was powering down.
“A gift, old friend,” Jacob said with a slight bow. “I will celebrate Christmas with a gift every Christmas morning.”
The silence dragged out. “You mean like coal?”
“I mean a gift in the true spirit of Christmas, from one friend to another.”
“I’m not getting you anything. Is that it?”
Jacob slow-blinked. Eb sighed. That was his old friend’s signal that the game was over. Although it wasn’t quite clear to Eb who won.
And then Jacob was gone.
Eb hadn’t even blinked. “Did you see that?”
“Yes, sir.”
They stared at each other, the droid’s eyes glowing charcoals, waiting for the encore. One never came. The room remained dark.
The doorbell rang.
FOUR
~
“Would you like me to answer it, sir?”
The doorbell rang a second time. Then a third.
Eb stuttered. With both rings on his fingers, he threw his hands out and stretched open an imaginary scroll. A holo screen hovered between his hands, projecting a view from the front porch.
Not one but two gifts were wrapped in shiny bows and thick coats. Eb pulled the holo closer. He still didn’t believe what he was seeing.
The sidewalk was clean, snow piled on both sides. The entry road was carved from the side of the mountain that no one could access without permission. It was dark and icy.
“Stop!” Eb shouted. “Don’t move!”
The droid’s dull gray hand slid from the doorknob. He cocked his head questioningly. “They’re cold, sir.”
Eb pulled his robe on and slid into hard-soled slippers. He pulled the Segway from the wall-mounted loading dock and leaned into it. The engine quietly whirred as he sped toward a ramp that circled along the perimeter wall. From the third floor, he could see another droid through the massive chandelier at the front door.
A wide ramp dumped him into the massive foyer. “Turn down… the lights,” Eb huffed.
Despite not running more than a few steps across the bedroom, he was gassed. It was the adrenaline or the stress or the recent conversation with his dead friend. Or the gifts waiting on the other side of the door.
The droid dimmed the foyer, but light from the front porch beamed through the narrow side windows, the fractured glass casting rainbows on the shiny floor. Eb wanted the porch lights killed, too. The droid pretended not to understand.
“Need a paper bag to breathe into, sir?” the droid droned dully.
“Shhh.”
The droid shook his head, eyebrows drooping in disbelief.
“What is that?” Eb whispered.
“What is what, sir?”
He jabbed at the door. When the droid refused to play along, he pinched his fingers together and pulled them apart like stringing taffy. A tiny holo screen stretched between them, a view of the front porch and the “presents” Jacob promised.
“That,” he said. “What is that?”
“Those are young girls, sir. They appear to be twins.”
“Really?” Eb moaned. “Those are girls? I know it’s girls, you idiot. What are those things doing here?”
“They, sir. Not things.”
“Are you an English teacher now?” Eb stomped a quiet tantrum, fists quivering at his sides. “You know what I mean.”
“They are your inheritance, sir.”
“My what?”
“Your inheritance, sir. The girls were Jacob’s daughters. You are now their legal guardian.”
“You’re joking.”
“I am not, sir.”
“I didn’t consent to this!” Eb hissed. “You can’t just leave children on a doorstep. Ludicrous! Where are the social workers? The nannies? Somebody!”
“It’s all been arranged, sir.”
The doorbell rang a fourth time. The droid turned to answer, and Eb grabbed his arm, his fingers sinking into the flexy skinwrap.
“It’s cold, sir. We need to let them inside.”
“You lied to me. You said you didn’t know anything about Jacob and the projection, and now you’re playing the good butler. You knew they were coming, admit it.”
“All of this information was released to me just before their arrival, sir.”
“Did you know Jacob had a daughter?”
“Daughters, sir.”
“All right, whatever. Did you know?”
“No, sir. Jacob was very private about his personal life. Very few people knew he had family. Look, I insist we let them inside.”
“They’re wearing coats; they’ll be fine another minute.”
“It’s eleven degrees Fahrenheit, sir.”
Eb paced around the Segway, tapping his chin like an overcaffeinated woodpecker. He pushed his round glasses up his nose and stopped in front of the tiny holo.
“Here’s what we do. You talk to them, find out what you can. I’ll be over there.”
“There’s nothing to find out, sir. They—”
“Shhh. Just do what I say, will you?”
A dim light rolled around the droid’s eyes. He turned for the door. Eb sped off on the Segway, the gears whining as he disappeared into the dark hallway. He went so far that he couldn’t see or hear anything. He stretched open a holo, the luminescence turning his porky cheeks bluish gray.
The door opened.
The little girls waited patiently, their hands in their pockets. They had shiny black hair tied back from their ears—one with a red ribbon, the other was green. The opposite was true for their coats. The one with the red ribbon had a green coat, the green ribbon a red coat.
They were each holding something in the crook of their arm.
“Well, hello there.” The droid took a knee. “Would you like to come inside?”
Steam billowed from their nostrils.
The droid ushered them over the threshold and wiped their snowy prints.
“Can I take your coats?” he asked.
They only watched him.
“You must be coooold,” he said loud enough for Eb to hear. “And hungry. Are you hungry?”
They nodded this time.
“Let’s go to the kitchen.”
They each put a hand out, their little fingers quivering. The droid took one in each of his dull gray hands. His hands would be soft and toasty, warming those delicate little fingers.
“What are you doing?” Eb whispered. “I said find out what they’re doing not bake them cookies… bah!”
He eased the scooter down the hall, careful not to squeak the tires. The droid left the kitchen door open. Eb parked on the other end of the dining hall and hid behind a table that could entertain twenty guests, avoiding the light knifing through the dark.
The girls were sitting at the marble island, their shiny black shoes swinging midway down the stools. Their coats were open, revealing festive dresses with frilly trim.
What looked like dolls were sitting next to them.
“Would you like the crusts cut away?” The droid’s voice carried from deep in the kitchen. A few minutes later, he slid sandwiches in front of them.
“Would you like juice?” he asked. “Apple or orange? We have eggnog. Do you like eggnog?”
He was doing it all wrong. Eb didn’t want to know their favorite colors or if they could count to ten. He needed facts, cold hard ones. And why do we have eggnog?
“Get over here,” he half-whispered.
The droid looked up.
“Not you.” Eb waved off the droid. “Keep them busy. Send another one of you up from the basement.”
The droid turned his attention back to the little girls, asking them if they were excited about Christmas and what they wanted. Five minutes later, bare feet softly padded into the dining hall. An exact replica of the droid came up behind him.
“What took so long?” Eb said.
“We’re docked for the night, sir.”
“Shh.” Eb smashed his finger across the droid’s lips. “Keep it down or they’ll hear.”
“Is that bad, sir?”
“Do you swear you didn’t know anything about this?”
“Does it matter that I swear to you, sir? Really?”
“Well, then don’t you find this a little weird?”
“Which part, sir?”
“That part.” His arm locked at the kitchen.
“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Little girls on our doorstep at one in the morning, you don’t find that odd? What are they, like two years old?”
“They’re five, sir.” A dim light rolled in the droid’s eyes.
“Whatever. They’re little girls that got dropped off like a package. You don’t find this just a little out-of-the-world bonkers?”
“They were transported by automated vehicle, sir. The trip was monitored by legal guardians in California and delayed by weather.”
“Is that how vehicles work, really? Really?”
“I was alerted when they arrived at the gate, sir, and was about to let them inside the house when you stopped me. In fact, the car was coming back for them if I delayed any longer.”
Eb tapped his chin. “You’re saying that if we put them on the porch, the car will come back?”
The droid sighed. “You’ll be arrested for endangerment, sir.”
Eb balled his fists. This was why he hated Christmas, all these stupid gifts that were now his responsibility. He didn’t ask for presents. He was an adult. If he wanted presents, he’d buy them.
He stretched out a holo and dimmed the luminescence to avoid revealing his hiding place. The little girls’ faces hovered before him. Eb leaned in, studying their olive complexions, the dark eyes.
“Are they even American?”
