II

 I’ve got to get to the bottom of this. How could he have gotten that score? As I approach the car, the engine automatically starts and the right side door, the one closest to me, pops open. As soon as I sit in the cheap cloth seats the seatbelt automatically wraps around me.  Even though it’s thirty degrees in the car-waiting area, it’s cool in the vehicle, the natural temperature in the car’s ergonomics program.

‘Where to?” Siri asks.

“Home.”

We glide out of the waiting area to the main street. Sometimes I wish Siri would speed up a bit. Can’t she tell that I’m in a hurry?  I have to talk to somebody about this, or this is going to drive me crazy.

Madison? My mother, his only daughter?  She would be the obvious person to handle this. I’ve got to tell her about this. Somebody’s gone and screwed with her own father.

“Call Madison,” I practically yell at the centre console. I pull a bottle of   water with a twist of lemon out of my bag and take a long gulp.

The call goes through, but the voicemail returns. “Leave a message.” My mother was never one for words. “Yeah, Madison, it’s me. Listen, I…”  I don’t know what it is but something inside, that small annoying voice in my head—I don’t know where it comes from—tells me to hold on. Why, I don’t know. Just think about this for a while, before you bring her into this. After all, she’s been acting kinda strange lately, ever since you started visiting him more frequently.

“Yeah, Madison. Just saw Pops. He says to tell you hi. Talk later. End call.”

Don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s fifty-five years old, looks twenty-five, but sometimes acts like a five-year old. I take another swig of the lemon water. The scenery zips by outside the windows and the lower glass door panels. Inside the cabin is as quiet as can be. At times like this I’m glad for the silence.

Another five minutes and the silence is unbearable. I’ve got to talk to somebody.

“Call Ciara.”

The call goes through, and a static image Ciara’s beautiful brown face, framed by her long black braids, appears on the center dash. OK, she doesn’t want to do a visual call.

“What’s going on, Ayana?”

“Ciara, pick up. I need to talk to you.”

“Kinda busy right now, Ayana. Can I call you back?”

Only a few minutes. I know it’s a lie, but so be it. “Just a few minutes, I promise.”

A brief silence and I feel compelled to break the awkwardness of it all. The exaggerated sigh on the other end of the line didn’t help either. But, thank God, I don’t have to.

“Okay,” she replies.  “What’s up?”

“Pick up!”

“What’s up, Ayana?”

“Just went to see Pops—“

“Something wrong?” she replies quickly.

“I don’t know—“

“Tell me!”

“I saw his PV score.”

There’s a brief silence. “How’d you see that! Did he show it to you?”

“No, got it from the nurse’s notebook.  His file was there in plain sight on his living room.”

“So. What was it? “

“I’m pretty sure it was one-fifty.”

“What?”

“One-fifty, can you believe that? That man is nowhere near close to dying.  Yet he’s got a one-fifty rating.”

“You’ve got to talk to Madison about this. She’s his daughter. If anyone would know how this could have happened, she’d be the one.”

“She’s been acting very strange lately. Bringing this up is just going to make it worse.”

“Ayana. Remember what you told me about him? He’s the only one who ever truly loved you.  Well, if this true, you gotta protect him now. You’ve got to figure out how this happened and you and Madison’ve got to fix it. And if she won’t, then it’s up to you.  Up to us…”

“You sure? You’d help me?”

“You know I will. You’re my girl. My sister. What happens to you happens to me. It’s that simple.”

“Thanks. You’re my girl, too. Talk soon.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, sis.  Got some news of my own. And it ain’t good.”  A live picture of Ciara appears on the console. She’s wearing a pair of VR glasses. “DeAndre’s finally done it. He’s picked up and moved his crazy ass over to Fallstead.”

It was as if a massive bolt of electricity shot through my body.

“Yeah, I was pretty speechless, too, when he told me. The crazy little turd!”

“What happened?”

“Who knows? My man, my wonderful partner, is confused. Started listening to some crazy preacher again. Started downloading all kinds of old religious books and… well, that kinda stuff will screw you up pretty quick.”

“Tried to talk to him?”

“Course I did! Tried to reason with him. Why would a smart guy like that through his life away with a bunch of psychos and fanatics?”

“Maybe you should go a see him in person. Reason with him.”

“Me, go to Fallstead? No way. Absolutely no way. Me, get myself mixed up with that kind of insanity?  People who can’t bring themselves to the modern world. I mean, some of them still drive their own cars, for God’s sake! They even have sex to make babies! They’re gonna live their lives just like they did a hundred years ago—with all of the violence and all the wars, and all the rest of it.”

“Ciara…”

“Ayana, it’s a fact! These people are nuts!  If you ask me, three hundred kilometres away is not far enough.  Move them three thousand kilometres away, that’d be more like it!”

“So, what’re you gonna do?”

“I dunno, girl. Gotta do something.”

“Well if you ever change your mind, let me know. I have a good friend…his name is Luca. He runs a small car and drone company. If you can persuade DeAndre to get outta there, I’m sure Luca could probably get him out.”

“Yeah. Talk later.”

“End call.” Ciara’s face dissolves into a map of the route home. The car has stopped for a traffic light. We’re heading back towards the city and the green of the trees and grassy fields are giving way a stream of low-rise buildings. Above, two large drones fly by. Even from this distance you can tell they’re old and slow, and seem cumbersome. Delivery drones. Why can’t we have one day of the week where we can just sit back, and relax?  Instead of seven days a week, all the same.

The light turns green and the car starts moving again. I recline the seat as far back as it goes and close my eyes.  Yeah, I’ll take a fifteen minute snooze, the amount of time it will take for the car to drop me off at home.

 

“How was your visit with Pops?” Madison asks as I walk through the door. She is in the solarium working at her computer as usual. Eighty-two stories below the grey waters of Lake Ontario stretch towards the horizon.

“Hey, Madison. Same as usual, I guess.  As I head over to the solarium the squeaking of tiny wheels and the whine of a compact electric motor suddenly starts in the hallway to the bedrooms.   “Hey, Gypsy!”

“Hi, Ayana!” she responds, rolling along for a few steps. “Can I get you anything?” Gypsy is a home robot Madison bought just over a year ago to do the cleaning and act as a kind of in-home personal assistant. One metre tall and full of energy she’s become more like a combination of a comfort pet, a personal confidant, and sometimes a drill sergeant all rolled into one.  I can’t count the times after a bad day when her big beautiful eyes—really two large orbs covering twin cameras—somehow makes everything okay again. She’s always been there for me, knowing exactly the right things to say, or the right thing to do to keep my spirits up.

“Talk to you in a few minutes, gonna say hi to Madison.”

“Okay.” She turns and rolls back to the bedroom area.

I sit on a wicker chair facing the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, and look out across the lake. Madison closes down her program and clasps her hands on her lap, looks at me and smiles.

“Madison, when are you going to see Pops again?”

“I saw him on the phone just last week. Why?”

“Well, sometimes, the phone is just not the same as being there in person.”

“What’s wrong now?”

“Well, he seems a little lonely sometimes.”

“When I saw him last week he seemed fine to me.”

This conversation’s going nowhere. Just like every conversation recently…well, at least for the last year or so—ever since she landed that executive position at a social marketing firm. Better change the subject to something neutral, so that she won’t get pissed off at me again.

“So how’s work?”

“Something’s bothering you. I want to know what it is!”

I start towards my bedroom.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s on your mind or not?”

Okay, if that’s the way you want it. I turn and face her. “Madison, how does someone get their PV score?”

“What?”

“How does someone get a real PV score? The score that no one wants to talk about.”

“I knew it! You’ve been talking to your grandfather way too much recently. He’s been filling your head with those crazy conspiracy theories again! You’d better straighten up and stop listening to that crap! Or else you’re gonna be as out of it as he is.”

I turn towards the bedroom again. “Later, Madison!”

“You’d better start listening to me for a change, girl. I love your grandfather but he’s becoming a very sick man. You’ve gotta…” The rants become muffled after the door slides hard shut behind me.

I throw my bag on the floor and collapse on my bed. Why can’t I have an old-fashioned life, like in the days when Pops was a kid?

After a few minutes I pull out the tablet that Pops gave me for my eleventh birthday. It’s nine years old now but still works, one of the few things that works for more than two years. I love it because he taught me to write longhand on it.  We downloaded a calligraphy program and wrote letters to each other in longhand. Since then I’ve written all my diary entries in longhand.

Sometimes I feel like I’m living with a stranger—that Madison is some alien being from another planet. Someone who has absolutely nothing in common with me. She is a mix of African, from her mother’s side, and American Indian and African from her Elijah’s. Sometimes I think of the old movies and stills with Pops, Madison and me. I always stood out.  Elijah and Madison with their dark skin, and me, light-skinned with brown hair and hazel eyes.  I fantasize about who Madison’s donor was—the man who in the old days would be called my biological father. I saw his bio once. Originally from one of those northern European countries, tall, athletic. A scientist of some sort. Madison had to save up for years to afford his sample—even after the discount for her own eggs. She said she had wanted a bright girl, a successful girl, that was worth every dollar that she had paid. I’m pretty sure Madison is disappointed in me, the way that things are turning out. I know she feels that she isn’t getting her money’s worth.

Oh, Pops. Where are you when I need you?  Like I needed you when I was three and four years old? When you took care of me? When you loved me, when no else did?

“Monitor, on! Elijah!”  A listing of folders with movies and stills of Pops appears on the wall facing my bed.

My favourite movie is the one where he took me to the mall and we got separated. Let’s play that one again.

The movie is from his point of view, shot from his camera glasses. The image is smooth as he walks along, looking to the left, to the right, going into stores, stopping almost everyone and asking if they had seen me. One after another they shrug, shake their heads, or say nothing. A few actually say no, they haven’t. After about five minutes there’s a squeal to the left. As he turns I come running towards him, arms outstretched. He scoops me up, my chubby, crying face, filling the screen.  I’ll never forget that moment! Ever!

“Where were you, Precious?” he asks.

I couldn’t answer. Crying and relieved, all I could do was hold him as tight as I could.  There are so many times like that, Pops. You are everything to me.

“Monitor, off!”  I barely hear myself speak.

“Lights off…” The darkness descends and covers me like a warm blanket. The pillow is so soft and puffs around my face, enveloping it. I need a couple of tissues.

 

It’s two in the afternoon the following day. The digital classroom sessions are over and I switch the monitor to videophone and call Ciara.

“I’ve gotta know what’s gonna happen to Pops, Ciara. I’ve got to figure out what a one-fifty score means. Will you help me?”

“But what can we do?”

“Okay, so I got up early this morning and did some digging. Everyone over sixteen has a Personal Value Score.  Basically what it does it uses IoT to gather tons and tons of information about you. Everything. Where you live. What you do. Where you shop. How much you spend on salad or a steak, and where. When you go to sleep. How many times you get up in the night. Who your friends are. Medications you’re taking. If you’ve taken your medication.  Online behavior, of course. Everything. It takes all of that info and builds a profile, then assigns a score of between one hundred and a thousand. The big lie is that the score is just used by companies to give you things that would make your life better. They say it can even predict if you going to get sick, get a disease, or even commit a crime. Most people have a score of between five-fifty and eight-fifty. They say that it captures your value to society. How much you contribute, how much you can take out. Couldn’t find out how they come up with the score though. There’ve been rumours that when it’s calculated you automatically get two hundred points. Everybody gets two hundred, no matter what. And if you then go below two hundred then you’re contributing nothing. In fact you’re taking out more than you’re contributing. You’re a drain on society. And from what I could find these are the people that just tend to disappear—they go for a walk, and they never come back, for example, or they’re sent off to some asylum somewhere and they’re never heard from again.”

“So what’re you saying? These people are being killed?”

“I don’t know.  That’s what we gotta find out.”

“You found all of this out this morning?”

“Well, not quite. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Madison has access to all of this kind of data since she works in social marketing, and she’s given me limited access to her account. She wants me to follow her into marketing, and gave me access so that I can play around with fake data.”

“So if anybody knows for sure how this PV score works, or if it even exists, she’d be the one.”

“Well, she’d be one of them.”

“Couldn’t you just break into her account?”

“Too secure. And she’d never give me full access. She’d lose her job in ten seconds if the software figured out I wasn’t her. And that would be real easy for it to do.”

“So, how’re we gonna figure this out for sure?”

 

It’s the following weekend and I still haven’t figured out how to gather the info that I need.  Every night Madison comes home and works until ten or eleven. She’s pleasant enough but barely says a word to me. I’ve tried peeking over her shoulder as she’s working, or sneak into the solarium when she takes a break, to see if I can steal any info on the PV score while she’s not looking, but no luck. One time she actually caught me and shot me one of her poison dart glares. I need someone to talk to. Ciara? No. Come to think of it, I really don’t want someone to talk to. I just want someone to listen.

“Hey, Gypsy!”

Whining wheels and electric motor, and Gypsy rolls up to me. “Yes, Ayana.”

“Come talk to me. I want someone to talk to.”

“Talk or listen.”

“Listen. You know me too well.”

“I’ll listen.”

“Elijah is in trouble, Gypsy. And I don’t know if I can help him.”

“He was not well when you saw him last?”

“No, no, no. At least I don’t think so. He looked fine. But there was something in his file. I’m afraid for him.”

“Why won’t you just ask him what’s wrong?”

“He will never tell me.  He wouldn’t want to worry me. Besides, he’ll just say that he’s feeling fine.”

“You can ask to see his data.”

“He wouldn’t agree to that…there’s no way he’d agree to that.”

“Just say that you’re worried, and would like to sit with him and look at his files.”

“Well…”

“I’m sure he’d agree.”

 

The following evening I’m back in my bedroom and can’t wait to see his records. Madison, as usual, is in the solarium, working. Should I wait until she’s out of the house before I go through Pops’ medical records? I can’t wait. It’s like she is in another one of her creative trances. She might be in this state—really, a state of suspended animation—for hours.

“Hey, Gypsy, I did it.  He gave me the passcodes. And it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

“I told you so.”

“I just casually said I was concerned about him, and that Madison and I had a fight again, and she wouldn’t tell me how he was doing. And since he and Madison are the only ones who can see his medical records, I was in the dark. That kinda did it. Madison hasn’t visited him in over three months. I don’t think he’s too happy with her right now.”

“So what’re you going to do now?”

“Well this is where I need your help.  I’ll give you the codes and you go in and gather together as much data as you can. I especially want you to search for his PV score, and what drives it. That’s the most important thing. Can you help me to do that?” She replies that she can, and I give her the codes.

In five minutes Gypsy has logged into Pops’ medical account and downloaded his files and has scanned and catalogued a massive amount of the data.  Data going back over twenty years.

“Okay, Gypsy, I need you to stand guard. But first, come closer, I need to talk to you and I don’t want Madison to hear.”  She rolls over next to me, and the door quietly clicks. Locked.  “You’ve got to let me know if Madison gets up from her desk, okay?  If she finds out that I have these files we’re both in trouble.”

“Yes, I understand.” Gypsy locks onto the surveillance camera over the condominium’s front door–the camera that has a clear view of Madison’s position. She then relays an image of Madison in her grey and pink yoga tights and slumped over her tablet, to a small section on the wall near the foot of my bed.

“Are you going to use the data visualization program, Ayana? “

“Yes, Gypsy. Going through data is way too boring otherwise. I don’t know how people researched data before visualization.”

The program is initiated and events in Pop’s life appear large on the bedroom wall. Like a virtual reality game we start flying through the events in Pop’s life as if flying through the dark expanse of space, weaving through planets and stars that represents events in his life.

Globes of different sizes, all with short headings, float towards us. The spheres are colour coded, green amber and red. We’re at twenty-sixty, twenty years ago. I use my clicker to zap one of the spheres. The program freezes and the details in that event fill the screen. Results of medical tests. Nothing interesting here. I click again and we continue flying. Twenty-sixty-six. Slight increase in blood pressure, but the spheres are still green. Sixty-seven, nothing. Sixty-eight, nothing. Sixty-nine.

Purchase-spheres roll towards us. Small spheres. Large spheres.  Every purchase that he has made in the past ten years. Pops stopped using cash just ten years ago, when stores stopped accepting it. Date and time of purchase. Amount of funds available.  Purchase exceptions– purchases that seemed out of character, investigations of unusual purchases, and the result.

Globes of social media posts and contacts.  Subject of the posts, the point of view adopted Messages to friends and acquaintances.

Employment history. I know that what his employment history was.  Professor of Philosophy and Biblical Studies at Drysdale College, a small Christian institution. Tell me something I don’t know. Come on, come on. Where’s that PV score?  Wait, hold on. Here’s something I didn’t know. In the security monitor image in the top left corner of the display, Madison is still locked in her trance.  Yes, here’s something new. Ten years ago, his last year as a professor. ‘Investigated for one lecture that was reported to border on hate speech.’  It did not provide details of what the lecture was about, though.

The planets bouncing towards me are now turning amber. Zap! Twenty-seventy. Something about cognitive function. There was no change in Pops’ behavior ten years ago that I can remember. What’re they talking about?  Seventy-one and seventy-two, a few red planets but still mostly amber. Twenty-seventy five. Yes, twenty-seventy-five. Monday, September 9^th, 2075.  That was the day the woman and the man from the hospital came to Pops’ apartment and took him away.  They said that their tests had shown that he was about to become a danger to himself, living all alone like he was. He would be better off in an ‘elder-care’ facility.  At first Madison was reluctant, she had said. But after seeing the latest medical results she felt she had no choice. So they took him away, and he was never able to return to his home again.

But that didn’t make any sense. I didn’t notice any change in Pops’ functions in seventy-five…oh, wait a minute.  Here’s one little very red planet rolling towards us.  ‘Publications.’ Zap!

‘Hate speech’ was the title of one report. “Oh, my God.”  Then two, three, four more reports.  Almost all of these subjects are related topics that the government said were ‘subversive’, at least according to modern standards.  One of the essays defended people who had been arrested for ‘hate speech’.  They had since disappeared from public life. Two of them had been convicted for unrelated crimes, one for fraud, the other for sexual assault.  Both were tried but neither convicted, though.  Why would Pops support such a bunch of criminals?

The planets bouncing towards me are now almost all red. Zap! Something about cognitive function. There was no change in Pops’ behavior five years ago that I can remember. What’re they talking about? There’s data on ‘physical wanderings’.  Clicking on one, there appears to be surveillance footage of Pops walking along the street. The camera pulls back. He’s being followed from a long distance away.  The camera zooms in again. Pops looks around and then enters a small café. The next shot is of Pops leaving the café alone. Soon after another man leaves. I recognize that man.  I’ve seen him in the news. He was put on trial for hacking into a political party’s database, if I remember correctly.  Pops had said that he knew the man, and that the charges were all made up to keep him quiet about his views.

But where’s the info about the score?  Where is that score? Is there anything on this screen that can give me the info on how he got that score?

There’s a little white icon at the bottom right of the screen that I hadn’t noticed before.  When I zap it nothing happens. Then it turns red for a few seconds, then to its original white.

Gypsy starts beeping, and says, so quietly that only I can hear, “Madison approaching.” Madison has left her work and is walking towards my bedroom door.

I switch to a display of a VR drone racing game.

There is a knock on my door.

“Unlock!” The door opens.

“What’re you doing?”

This is strange. She’s never asked this before…  “Nothing. Just drone racing.”

“Are you winning?”

“Well, I haven’t started yet.”

“Uh-hm.  Ayana, when you spoke to Elijah last, did he say anything about his medical records?”

“Nope.”

“I just received a warning about an unauthorized attempt to access his data.  Do you know anything about that?”

“No, why would I?”

“Because he tells you everything. If someone was trying to hack his account, I’m sure he would’ve told you.”

“Well, he hasn’t. Sorry.”

“Do you know anything about anyone trying to hack into his account?”

“Why are you asking me?  I don’t know anything about his records. Only you and he have the passcodes, remember. That’s what you wanted.”

“Well, the only way there could be an unauthorized attempt is for him to have given the codes to someone else, and they made a mistake.”

“Maybe it was someone on staff at the home.”

“Maybe. You sure you don’t know anything about this?”

“No, I don’t.”

I look straight at the wall monitor. An intense glare burns into the left side of my head from the doorway.  Keep looking straight ahead at the monitor. Don’t you dare look in her direction! Don’t you dare!

The door slides shut with a whisper.  Three high pitched beeps float from Gypsy’s direction in the corner, followed by a slow winding-down moan, like the sound of an electric motor being turned off. “Yeah, Gypsy. She scared me too.” I exit out of Pops’ records.  “We’ll have to wait a few days to get back to this, Gypsy. She’s suspicious right now and she’s going to be monitoring his records closer than ever.”

“Ayana!”

What now? What’ve I done now?

“Ayana!”

“Yes, Madison.”

“Come on out here I wanna talk to you.”

She’s sitting on the floor as if she’s about to do yoga.

“Come. Sit down here next to me.”

“What is it?”  I sit down next to her. There’s a slight tinge of her favourite perfume. She’s worn this brand, and only this brand, ever since I can remember.  She wears it so consistently I’ve come to call it Madison’s Delight.

She puts an arm around my shoulder. “It’s about your grandfather.  Look, he’s very sick. He’s been sick for the past ten years. But now it’s getting worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s starting say threatening things again…”

“I don’t believe that.  Who’s he been threatening?”

“Just about anyone in a position of responsibility. He’s become a definite threat to himself and to everyone around him.”

“I don’t believe you…”

“I wish I was wrong, Ayana. I sure wish I was wrong. But there’s no underestimating what your grandfather might do. His dementia is getting worse by the day. The longer this goes untreated the worse he’s gonna get. He needs to be treated. WE all want him to get better.”

“Really? And how long will that take?”

“Who knows?  Months, but more likely, years. It all depends on the kind of treatment he needs…We’re gonna have to transfer him to another retirement home. One that cares for people like Elijah. It won’t be like Regent’s but he’ll be getting the best care that money can buy in this town.”

“I don’t believe you. There’s nothing wrong with my grandfather.”

“I really wish that was the case, Ayana. But it isn’t. Your grandfather is very sick. He needs our help now. That means you too, Ms. Ayana.”

 

Pops’ alert came at about three the following afternoon. Two hours later I am sitting next to him in his living room.  I’ve never seen him like this before. His clothes are all rumpled. He is not the neatly dressed distinguished gentleman I’ve so admired.  He’s  wearing the watch I printed for him. When I hold his hands, they are cold and clammy, and when he speaks his voice is quivers, barely more than a whisper, and it sounds as though his words are not directed to me or anyone or anything.

“The gardens are beautiful, now, Ayana. Let’s go take a walk among the flowers.”

“I was just going to say the same thing.” I grab my bag with one hand and hook my other arm into his. “Let’s go.”

“You can leave your bag here. You can pick it up when we get back.”

I squeeze him arm.  “I’d rather keep it with me, Pops.”

He shrugs, picks up his cane, and leads me into the garden.

The flowers are now in full bloom.  The grounds of the Regent Retirement Village, though small, are landscaped like a professional botanical garden.  Every weekend residents are taken out to have pictures taken with their loved ones. We walk along the pathways for a while, in silence– the violets, the deep reds, the bright yellow and white roses by our side. As he looks at me, his dark eyes, shimmering, cast a blank stare in my direction. He tugs and pulls his hands away from grasp, but then holds my hands in his.

“I’ll be going away, Ayana.  And I’m pretty sure that I won’t be able to see you again. Two men came by yesterday.  They asked me about a letter I wrote to the editor of that magazine.”

“What did they want?”

“They asked me if I really believed what I said.  Did I really believe that the innocent people were being relocated to Fallstead.”

“What did you say?”

“I said yes. I personally know of good people who’ve been sent to Fallstead.”

“You didn’t. Why did you say that?”

“I said it. I believe it. Then they left. Now your mother, this morning, the nurses, and the doctors, they all said the same thing—‘he’s becoming a danger to himself and to others.’ And so they decided, right then and there, to send me away.  She is now my legal guardian, and so she can do whatever she wants, as long as the doctors agree with it.”

“But you’re not a danger to yourself. Look at you! You can dress yourself, cleanup after yourself. And you’re not a danger to anyone either. You just wait. I’ll talk to Madison…”

“No, Ayana, you can’t do that.”

“Oh yes I can.”

“No, you can’t. Listen to me…listen. There’s something I have to tell you. Something your mother found out, which is causing all of this.”

There’s a thumping in my chest and I have to breathe deeply to catch some air.

“”Here’s why. You’ve heard of a group called the Dissenters?”

“You mean that crazy group that wants to destroy our society.  That group of bigots who hate everyone and want to take us back to the stone age?”

“Well, I know that’s what some people think of us…”

My heart crashes against my chest. I try to lick my dry lips and swallow, but I can’t. There’s nothing there. “What do you mean, ‘us’?”

“I mean, I’ve been one of them for almost ten years now.”

“But you can’t be. You’re full of love for me. You always were. You can’t be one of them.”

“I’m afraid I am.  I’ve had a secret account for since seventy.  A secret identity that no one knew about. I’ve had it ever since I was lecturing.  Don’t ask me about the technical part of this account. I couldn’t tell you. But we…I….have friends in other countries who can take what we write, unencrypt it, and then publish it. That’s what we’ve been doing all along. But they’ve found me out. Just last week it happened.”

“How did they find out?”

“I don’t know. I think it happened when I gave up my passcodes.”

“You mean when you gave me the passcodes?”

“Looks like someone’s been monitoring my account all along. And they were able to hack into it with this new login.”

“Pops, I’m sorry…”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later, Precious. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I should’ve been more careful…”

We walk in silence for a few minutes, then arrive at a fork in the path. “Let’s go this way, Pops.” I gesture to the right.

“That’s not going to take us back to my apartment.”

“It’ll take us to the front of the building, past the car-waiting area.”

“You’re up to something, little girl. I know you.”

We enter the car-waiting area and my rental swoops around right in front of us, and pops open the right side door. “Get in, Pops!”

“What’s going on…?”  A gentle shove and he stumbles towards the front seat. I hold on to his arm and steady him as gets in.

When I’m in the left hand seat, the car accelerates towards the exit of the car-waiting area.

III

“Loveland!” A route to the town of Loveland appears on the centre console.

“What! Where are you taking me?”

“I’m sorry, Pops.  I love you too much. I’m not going to allow her get rid of you.”

“Stop this car. Now! You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“No I’m not.  I’ve got it all planned out.”

“Oh, really!  Stop this car, Ayana.  Before it’s too late. My time is up. And if you don’t stop this car now, yours will be up as well.”

“No, it isn’t.  Not after I prove that you’re no threat to them. They’ll have to clear you. And I’ll be okay. Trust me, Pops!”

“Stupid girl, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

There’s a beep on the centre console, and a gaunt white face with blazing orange hair and a full beard appears.

“Luca, you ready?”

“Just one second, baby. Just . One. Second. Okay. I got you. I got you. Got your vehicle ID. You give me permission to take control of the vehicle?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Beautiful. Now I got you. Now when your mom hears that you’ve taken off with your old man…I mean, your grandfather, she’ll try to commandeer the vehicle.  But now she can’t. You’re safe.”

“Thanks, Luca.”

“Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart. We still got a long way to go, before you get to Loveland. The display changes back to a map, different from the first. “Here’s the route you’re gonna take.  I’m gonna get you off the highway as soon as I can. Maybe about an hour or so. Then I’m gonna take you through Fallstead.  There we’re gonna switch cars.  I’ve got a good friend there who’s got something they’ll never be able to track.  Then I’ll take you to Loveland. It’ll take another couple of hours after that. It’s a longer route, but it’s safer.”

We’re on the freeway now, and we’ve picked speed, ten kilomtres over the limit, the maximum allowed without triggering the roadside sensors.

“Why Fallstead? I don’t wanna stop in Fallstead.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ayana. I’ll take you straight to my friend. She’s not a kook.  She’ll take care of you. I guarantee it.”

“Luca, if she’s not crazy why’s she living in Fallstead?  This isn’t what we agreed to…”

“Ayana, I’ve done this many times before. You’ve gotta trust me.”

“I do trust you. I don’t trust Fallstead.”

“Listen to the man, Precious” Pops said quietly.” I know some people in Fallstead as well. They’re not all crazy religious creeps.”

“Thanks, old man,” Luca said.

A sharp burst of anger seizes my body and my shoulders contract against the cloth seat. “His name is Elijah Keeper, Mr. Luca!”

“It’s okay, Precious.” Pops cold bony hands touches my forearm. “It’s okay.”

“So you’re good for now. Just sit back and relax.  Want some music?  Waddaya…”

“You little shit! Stop that car. Now!”  Madison’s face suddenly fills the display, eyes blazing. “Stop it now!”

A wave of defiance flood my chest. “You’re not going to hurt him, Madison. He’s coming with me and he’s gonna be safe.”

“Look I’m not playing with you, child. You pull that car over right now. You hear me!”

“Leave the child alone, Madison. What does it matter to you where I go?”

“You stay out of this, old man. You don’t know what you’re sayin’.”

“Don’t talk to him like that.  What kind of animal are you? He’s your father. How can you do this to him?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? He’s sick. He’s been diagnosed. I’m sending him to a place where he’ll be taken of.”

“No. You’re going to get him killed. I know all about your little plan. We both do.”

“Trust me. You don’t know nothing.  But I can tell you one thing.  You don’t pull that car over, it’s not going to end well for you. Either of you.”

“So you’re threatening us now. Your father and your own daughter.”

“This is not on me, girl.  This is on you. And him.”

“Then it’s on me and him, then.”

“Elijah, speak to your granddaughter. She’s going to get you both killed.”

I’ve had enough of this woman. “Goodbye, Madison.”

“Wait!” Pops says. “Madison. I want you to be honest with me.  Can you promise me that if we end this right now, Ayana will not be harmed?”

“Look, you’re not going anywhere anyway.  I don’t have to deal with you. You two will be in jail before I’m in bed tonight. If you want to do yourselves a favour…well you know what you have to do.”

I shoot Elijah a quick glance He slowly looks down and clasps his hands on his lap. Outside, the lush green countryside races by in a blur. I take his hands in mine.

“That’s right. Take his hand, girl. Do it now ‘cause you’re never going to do it after tonight.”

“Classical music. Space.” The display changes and my favourite classical piece, Bach’s ‘Air On the G-String’, starts. The display changes to time lapsed illustrations of galaxies exploding and contracting.

My phone buzzes. Luca appears on the display. “You’re going to have to pull over. You’ve got a police car gaining on you.”

Shit! Madison must have called them.  So be it then…But hold on. Hold on one minute. On the rear-view cameras display the image of the police cruiser slowly fills the screen. But there are no lights flashing. “Stay below speed limit.” The car glides to the limit. The police car pulls up alongside and I can feel the officer staring at me.  I keep looking straight over the steering column. The police car slowly pulls ahead.

“Okay, you got lucky,” Luca says. “Now listen to me. There’s a small field coming up on your right. About five kilometres. I’m gonna pull over when you get there.”

“Why? Why do you want us to stop in the middle of nowhere?”

“Relax. I’m sending you an AAV. It’s already on its way. The road is just too dangerous. It should be there in about fifteen minutes. You’ll be in Falstead in less than an hour.”

In a flash my face is hot. “Man, why didn’t you say this before? We could have avoided all of this?”

“Simple. You couldn’t afford it. You’ll be working this off for the rest of the year…No problem, you can thank me later.”

Fifteen minutes later Luca comes on again. “The field is coming up. Just before you get to it, on the right, you’ll see a dirt road. I’m gonna take it and drive under a clump of trees. Wait there until the AAV gets there. Don’t go towards it immediately. When it lands it will look around for you. When it sees you, it’ll flash its lights/. You flash the car’s lights twice every time theAAV does so.”

Surely enough in about ten minutes a white AAV with yellow trim arrives. It circles a couple of times and lands about twenty feet from the car.

“’Autonomous Aerial Vehicle’,”  Pop reads from the side of the craft. “My first time in one of these things. After eighty years.”

“I’ve never been in one either, Pops.”

“Take everything that you can with you.  Try not to leave anything in the car,” Luca says.

In a few minutes we’re off.  The grassy pasture falls away, and we’ve turned towards the distant hills that  have always separate us from the anarchy that is Fallstead.

We’re skimming over a wooded area.  Kilometres of lush green cotton balls slide below us. The central console displays information about our flight.  The little AAV buzzes along steadily, businesslike, towards the bright green label, FALLSTEAD.  We’re moving at just below two hundred kilometres an hour. We are just over 200 metres high.  The countdown clock unwinds by the second: thirty-nine minutes and sixteen seconds…

Luca’s face appears on the console again.

“Now, Ayana.  Listen carefully.  When you get to Fallstead, I’m going to put you down in a car-waiting area of a school. It also doubles as a church for a bunch of groups on the weekend. There’ll be a woman there waiting for you. Her name is Ida. I want you to do everything she asks you to do. If you do that, you’ll be safe.  If you don’t, sooner or later you’ll probably be captured. It’s that simple.”

“Why would they capture us?  We’re on they’re side.”

“There are spies everywhere.  All outsiders are suspect, unless you’re with someone they know. Without Ida you will be dead. You hear me?”

Before I can answer my phone buzzes, and Madison’s face appears. “They’re dead anyway. You should have given up when you had the chance, girl. Now you’re both going to have a very unfortunate accident.”

“We’re going to Fallstead. And you can’t stop us.”

“Put the vehicle down now,” comes a voice from the central panel. A voice I’ve not heard before.  It sounded like it came from the bottom of a bottomless pit, cold, stark, robotic, as if programmed to destroy you if you did not immediately comply.

Pops was looking back. “We’ve got two nasty looking characters just behind and above us.”

He’s right. Two large drones with laser turrets were following us less than a fifty kilometres behind.

“See that”, Madison says. “I’d do what the man said if I were you.”

“But we’re not flying the vehicle.”

“Don’t play stupid with me, girl. Give us the code and my friend’ll land it for you.”

“Ayana,” Luca says. “Just relax. I’ve got you.  I’m gonna have you guys follow the road real close. They’ll never shoot you down on the road, and risk killing innocent motorists. Even for them that would be tough to explain.”  The AAV banks sharply to the left and swoops down towards the road.  Just ahead there is a ghost-white sedan heading in the same direction.  I’m pushed back into the seat as the AAV surges towards the car. Soon we’re just behind it, and about fifty metres above.  The whir of the engine drops away to barely more than a whisper and we slow to match the speed of the sedan.

The drones chasing us have slowed as well and appear to be monitoring us, one on either side, about fifty metres above.  The hills of Fallstead seem so far away now. Still at least fifteen minutes. What if they get a clear shot at us before we get there? Will we be able to save ourselves?

Oh, no!  In the distance a long line of cars are have come to a stop.  There is another line of backed up cars coming towards us from the other direction.  Two police cars are parked on the side of the road where the two lines meet.

“They’ve jammed the cars’ electronic systems,” Luca says. “They couldn’t move even if they wanted to.”

What’re we going to do?  The minute we lose the protection of the sedan and other cars below they’ll be sure to shoot us out of the sky.  I won’t allow that to happen to Pops. To my right he’s looking at his palms again. Why doesn’t he just say he made a mistake, that he won’t do it again? That’ll put an end to this right now.

“Luca…”

“Yeah, I see them. Just keep going. I’m with you.”

We pass the police cars. The lineup is now on the other side of the road, facing us. The AAV’s rear cameras show the drones have backed away about a hundred metres.

The line of cars is getting thinner now. In the distance there is nothing but a clear roadway, perfect for our pursuers to start shooting.  Suddenly the AAV starts climbing, steeply.

“Luca! What are you doing?”

Twin red beams pierce the sky on either side of us. A scream escapes my throat, as two more red lines race past us.   Pops, grabs my arm, as the AAV continues climbing.

“Luca! Stop!”

“Just hold tight, sweetheart. I’ve got you. If they really wanted to shoot you down, they would have done it by now.” The AAV is now leveled off and slowing a bit.

“Then, why…”

“Look,” Pops says, pointing straight ahead.

Two dots appear over the hills, flying towards us. It’s deathly quiet in the cockpit.

“They’re from Fallstead,” Luca says. “Looks like some kind of patrol.”

“What do you think, Pops? Are they going to shoot us down?”

Pops just shakes his head.

“Do you want me try to lose them?”

“It’s no use,” Pops says. “We’ve run out of choices. Looks like we’ve come to the end of the road. You’ve done your best. You’ve done good, girl.”

The dots have grown into helicopters. Two seater helicopters that make an incredible racket, with faded paint and parts that looked like they were patched together from different machines. They circle around us, one on either side. To my right the pilot gestures us to follow her.

“Luca?”

“I’ll do as she says. It looks like you’re gonna be safe now. Look behind you.”  The console display shows nothing but empty sky behind us. It’s as if the drones had disappeared into nothing.

Pops holds my hand. For the first time since the drones appeared I feel I can breathe.  Thank you, Luca.

But what are they going to do to us in Fallstead?

 

The sun is setting as the AAV touches down in a scraggly football field on the perimeter of Fallstead.   A thick heavy heat descends on me as I get out of the vehicle.  There is a group of three men and two women who meet us.  Two men and a woman are holding long guns pointing downwards. All are deadly serious.

“This way,” says the woman with the gun. “She grabs me by the arm and starts marching me towards a small one story building at the end of the field.

“He can’t walk very well. He has a cane,” I yell, looking back at Pops. One of the men is pushing Pops along behind us. “Be careful with him!”

When we get to the building they place me in a small room with a a fluorescent light and a floor fan. It’s bare except for a small table and two chairs. There’s no air conditioning and the fan is not turned on. One man questions me, asking my name, where I lived, who my family was, where was my family, how was I related to Pops, why was the police chasing us.

After an hour my clothes are drenched and my mouth is so dry I can barely speak. Even so they will never see my fear.  I pound on the table. “What are you doing with Elijah Keeper? Why are you doing this? We’ve done nothing to you.”

The door finally opens and another man leads me into a room next door. This is equally hot and stuffy. There is a man and a woman standing over Pops, who’s seated at the table.

“Pops, are you okay?”

“Yes. Just do as they say, Ayana.”

“Can he have some water,” I ask.  “Can’t you see he’s about to faint?”

The man standing next to Pops barely blinks. He says to the woman standing next to him.

“We have no use for these two.  Send them to Gutierrez.”

 

It’s now dark, about 9 o’clock. We’ve been driven in a small van from the football field into what looks like a slum area of the city. The van comes to the corner of a main street and an alleyway.

“Come with us.” The driver, a large heavy-set man in beige and brown battle-fatigues, a beret and dusty army boots gets out and leads Pops and I down the alleyway.  The woman and man who were with Pops at the football field follow close behind.  I can make out plastic bottles and cans, cardboard cartons, and garbage bags, partially ripped open, littering the alleyway and the narrow sidewalk.

Women and men sit in the doorways talking and laughing. A few have pistols stuffed into their belts. As we pass one storefront, with bars on the doors and windows, the smell of pee is overpowering.  An emaciated mangy dog limps by.  A few more buildings and our leader turns right and enters a narrow doorway. Inside is dark and musty.  One of the light sockets has been ripped from the ceiling leaving bare wires exposed. He leads us down a flight of rickety stairs, down another hallway, past a door on the left and on the right, straight to another at the end. As we approach, the door opens, and a girl of about fourteen gestures us in.  Our leader stands aside. I clutch Pops’ arm even tighter and stand my ground.

“It’s all right,” Pops whispers. “Let’s go on in.”

As you enter there is a sweet smell of cinnamon. There are six people in the room–a boy and girl who appear to be teenagers,  two women and a man who appear middle-aged, and a young man in his twenties,  a dark-skinned man  with a shaved head and a full beard, and…oh, my God!

“DeAndre! Is that you?”

“Welcome, Ayana.” He steps forward and gives me a hug. Then he turns to Pops.  “Professor Keeper. It’s an honour, sir.”

Behind us the door closes, and our escorts are gone.

DeAndre introduces us. “This is a good friend of mine, Ayana. And you’ve all heard of Professor Keeper.” He then introduces the group, finishing with one of the older women. “This is Pilar, Pilar Gutierrez. She leads our Bible study, as well as the spiritual leader of our group.

“Welcome,” Pilar says. “DeAndre has told us about you, Ayana.” He pumps my hand. And of course we know so much about you, Professor. Please, let’s go into the other room. I’m sure you must have a lot of questions.”  Pilar and DeAndre lead us to one of the two doors we passed on the way in. The girl at the door follows us with a tray of cinnamon buns and cookies, and the older man brings a pitcher of juice and cups.  After they leave, Pilar says. “I’m sure you must be wondering why the secrecy.”

“Well, yes, the thought did cross my mind,” Pops says with a faint smile.

“Fallstead is a dangerous place,” Pilar replies. “Unfortunately not everyone believes what we believe.  And because we don’t believe in violence we have to be especially careful who we allow into our group.”

“A lot of care and a lot of prayer,” DeAndre says with a chuckle.

Pilar passes the plate with the baked goods. “Cinamon buns?”

“I’ll have some juice,” I respond. “How about you, Pops?”

“Same.”

DeAndre pours cups for both of us.

“We believe that there should be no greater law than what we believe to be God’s laws,” Pilar says.

“What does that mean–God’s law,” I ask.

“Basically what we read in our Bibles. We’re trying to make it meaningful for our lives.”

“Well, there’s stuff in the Bible I like too. Pops has shared a bunch of passages with me when I was a kid. Like the one in Corinthians, the love chapter. That’s my favourite, really poetic.”

“Yes, First Corinthians thirteen. Don’t know of anyone who doesn’t love that chapter.”

“So what’s the problem, then?  They’re lots of people back home who believe in that stuff as well. They’re still some churches around town, where people attend.  Why can’t you go to those churches?”

“That’s all well and good,” Pops says. “But they—Pilar and her group– believe that where there’s a conflict between the government’s law and what they believe to be God’s teaching, they—and I—believe we should follow God’s teaching.”

“Like what?”

“Like, we don’t believe that we should have to put a micro-chip in our bodies if we don’t want to,” Pilar says.

“But what’s the big deal? I hold up my wrist. There’s a tiny scar where the chip was placed when I was born. “It’s just a security tool.  It makes buying and selling and accessing stuff so much easier–and more secure.”

“And that may very well be the case,” Pilar replies. “And God bless you for it. My son has one himself, but that was his decision. I don’t believe that people should be forced to have them in their bodies, and if they don’t, the government should make exceptions for those who don’t want it. But that’s just one thing.  We believe that we were made by God, that we’re not just some random collection of particles. We believe that we are all God’s children, and that we’re made in His image. That doesn’t sound too radical to me…how about you?”

“Well, never really thought of it that way…”

“And if you don’t want to believe that, that’s fine for you,” says Pops. “But why should those of us who think differently than those in power, why should we be pushed aside and called crazy or subversive? That’s what my article was about, the one that caused me to be diagnosed as ‘losing my cognitive ability’ and ‘being a danger to myself and others’.  It was after that article was published that they came and took me away.”

“That article literally changed my life,” DeAndre says. “I had to ask myself if I was truly making decisions for myself, or was just letting others do my thinking for me. And after thinking about it for a while, I didn’t like the answer.”

“That article impacted all of us,” Pilar says.

“You can be free to believe whatever you want to believe, but why can’t we have that right as well,” DeAndre says.

“Well, a lot of people think you guys are a bit crazy.”

“Well, that’s the problem,” DeAndre says. “There are a lot of people out there who claim the same God as us, but when you look at what they’re doing…well, maybe they really are crazy.  As you know there are a lot of people in Fallstead who talk about freedom and would use violence to protect their beliefs. We disagree with that.”

“But those outside your faith don’t see the difference.”

“And that’s really the problem,” Pops says.  “In all of my writings I say people should be given the right to express their opinion. But your Mom and her friends have lumped me–and people like DeAndre, Pilar and a bunch of others–in with the militants.”

“So what do you think, Ayana?” Pilar asks.  Are you convinced.”

“I don’t know.” I’m searching for words, but can’t find anything that truly says how I feel. I’m more than confused. “I just need a little time, I guess.”

“Take all the time you need,” Pilar says. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

I touch Pops’ shoulder. “What’re you gonna do, Pops?”

“I like it here. I believe this is where I want to be.”

“But you saw what it was like upstairs. Everyone’s walking around with a gun in their belt! They’re nuts!”

“You’re right, Ayana,” says Pilar.  “They’re lots of crazies out there, but at least they leave us alone. They think we’re crazy too. But at least they leave us alone.”

“So, Pops. Are you saying you don’t want to go to Loveland after all?”

“I never said I wanted to go to Loveland, remember? And  I’m pretty sure I don’t want to go there right now. What say you and I hang around Fallstead for a few more days? Waddaya say?”

“I’m gonna have to go back home though. I can’t live here.”

“Well it’s up to you,” Pops says. “Your PV score is probably shot right now. You might not have much choice.”

“I can’t live here, Pops.”

“You can’t go back home either,” say Pilar and DeAndre.

I look at Pops. Pops, what am I gonna do?

He looks at me with those gentle eyes, those eyes that are intended for me, and only me, ever since I can remember.  I lean against his shoulder.  He strokes my hair and whispers in my ear.  “You’re big girl now, Ayana. I’m always there for you.  Whatever decision you make I know it’ll be the right one.”

© Weldon Turner, 2016, All Rights Reserved.

Next month, Ben-Hur, and other stories at the time of Jesus.