Chapter 19

“Okay, those antidotal episodes with Richard, Liz, and Robert are interesting, but I’m not grateful for the little personal history lesson,” said Urian.  You’re not making a fool out of me, A2.  I don’t like what I’ve heard.  Don’t like it at all.”  He stood up, looked at his clone, and then walked closer to A2.  “Why didn’t Quill tell me himself?”

“There was no need to alarm you as long as the experiment was going as planned.”

“You mean, A2, as long as you guys didn’t get caught.  This is me… my brain you’re messing with, not to mention my wife.”

A2’s colors subsided into muted pastels, barely shaded above a pale white.  “Urian, we’ve never ‘messed’ with you or any other person’s brain.  We’re simply observing and learning.  You joined the project knowing there was little to fall back on.   It’s all a new frontier.  We’ve been working with a blank canvas from the beginning.  To have your clone interact with Marsha in a virtual reality session suggested nothing in the way of a problem.  It wasn’t the you of you, remember?  Your clone enjoyed itself, and Marsha was grateful for the close contact.  It has been awhile, you know.”

“Oh, Fuck!  Yes, A2, I can count.  Several months.  Being up here isn’t exactly a turn on.  How come… tell me, how did you get me to chime in at the last minute?  I mean, why didn’t I sense Marsha while I was playing poker?”

“You sensed your clone only when you chose to relax enough.  Playing poker, and losing as you did, didn’t exactly allow a calm mind to exist.  Now that I know under optimum circumstances a clone can simultaneously share with its parent, the real one,  I am better able to plan the next phase of the project.”

“You know, A2, I feel like a freaking animal in a cage right now.  And something else.  I don’t want the ‘next phase’ to go anywhere until I speak to Quill.  Is that understood?”

A2’s colors shot to a vibrancy, then rescinded.  “Of course, Urian.  Mr. Quill said that in his absence…”

Urian finished the sentence.  “In Quill’s absence, I will be in charge.  At least you’ve got that straight.”

“You’re sounding agitated, Urian.  Why don’t you try and get some sleep now?”

“I was going to suggest the same to you.   Your aura’s uncontrollable color shift is a dead giveaway.  You’re stressed out as well, A2.  Take a fucking nap, aready.”

“Perhaps you’re right.  I’ll take your advice and transfer to an auto-mode while I do some self maintenance.”

“And I don’t want you forging ahead with anything until Quill returns.  Is that understood?”

“Yes, Urian.  Perfectly.”

Urian stood up and exited the room.  As he walked the short distance to his building, his mind raced over the last hour.  A2 didn’t do anything wrong, really.  Why am I so angry?  Hell, I helped program her.  She is doing her own thinking, just as Quill and I wanted her to do, so why… why this negative feeling?  Jesus, maybe because she’s IS doing her own thinking?

                                                      ---

A2 remained neutral, her colors pastel, and her thinking calm.  On Quill’s desk, the bright colors mixing on ManBot1 suggested he was not so calm.  Bringing Quill’s monitor to life, A2 watched, as Marsha wept with anger in the VR houseboat.  Urian, half-naked, watched as she twisted a towel into a rope-like grounding of her pain.  Urian’s voice sank into depression as he said, “Marsha, I thought you’d want me to be honest.  I had them tied off long before I met you.  Marsha… we can adopt.”

“And I’ve been tryin’ for years.  Why did you wait til now to tell me, you son of a bitch!”

“Why did you wait till now to ask me?”

A2’s colors became bright momentarily as she muttered to herself, “At least Urian didn’t sense this little scene.”

                                                      ---

Tito sat on the curb, cutting wedges of apple for Satan, whose head continued to nod in appreciation.  “If only humans were as appreciative as you, Satan.”

The horse whinnied and shook its mane.

“Hey, didn’t tell ya, but…”  He reached into his coat and pulled out some new pages of the script.  “Hector made some changes.  This new stuff is weird… I mean, he labeled it, (Structured Improvisation).  All he gives me is a couple of scenes where people are treatin’ animals badly, you know?  I’m supposed to use my own experience, make up shit, you know?”  He thumbed through the pages.  “Like here.  Says, ‘So I’m sittin’ at this bar…’ that’s me, Satan.  Me, sittin’ at the bar, and… ‘this guy says to me, the asshole poisoned my Butch, he did.  Poisoned him just because he barks during the day sometimes.  Know what that’s like, mister, getting’ your dog poisoned by some lunatic?’ 

Satan snorted.

“You got that, didn’t ya, Satan?  So, I’m supposed to tell that part and then make up my own response.  Hector insists I’ve got plenty of ‘life’s’ experience, you know?  Says I’m ready to improvise… this ‘structured improvisation’ just sets a goal, and I’m supposed to fill in the gettin’ there.  Weird, huh?”

Satan eyed Tito, and then nuzzled him.

“Okay.  Okay.  You’re worse than Hector.  Gettin’ it on.  Gettin’ it on.”  Tito looked up at Satan and shrugged, taking his eyes back to the script.  “So, I say to the guy, he’s kinda drunk, you know?  I say to the guy, hey, it’s sad, buddy, but the world’s fucked up.  Dogs don’t bark for nothin’.  They got somethin’ on their mind… tryin’ to let you know… sometimes, lettin’ the neighborhood know.  Maybe he’s seen a prowler.  Maybe somebody trespassin’ where they shouldn’t be, you know?  Dog’s are like security systems.   They’re programmed to react, just like an alarm.  People go out and spend thousands to put up those new fancy magnetic field kind, you know?  Seen those?”  Tito gestured to the horse, then to some imaginary audience.

“They don’t make any noise, but they cost a bundle.  Somebody steps over the line… zap!  Knocks them on their ass.  Owners got rights.  Intruders got none.  Zap!  Now, once they’re zapped, they make more noise than any dog you’ve heard, Satan.  I got zapped once in the park, you know.  Just takin’ a nap.  Stun-gun night-stick cops love to play with.  I didn’t say nothin’ though.  I just moved to a new bench on the other side.  Sometimes when I’m walkin’ the park at night, though, I hear the homeless gettin’ zapped.  They howl like dogs too.  No poison for them… us.  Just more zaps if we don’t watch it.  Everybody wants to control, you know, Satan? 

“Hey…”  Tito looked up at the horse.  “You know they even use those zappers on race horses now.  Yeah.  Little taser tipped riding crops.  Saw it on TV.  You can even buy’em for your dog, you know.  Just reach down and zap the poor little fucker if he barks.  Shit.  “But, wait, call today and we’ll give you an extra at no charge, bla, bla, bla”.  You know the drill.”  He gestures to the imaginary audience.  “You all know how we’re kept in line.  Then we keep others in line.  And on and on it goes.  Everybody wants to control.

“Hey… you know…”  He winks at Satan again and whispers, “We’re different with this implant thing, though, so don’t pay no mind to this.”  He turns to his imaginary audience, “them satellites up there.  They got you comin’ and goin’.  You don’t have any control, man.  You get up at 6:30 and walk your micro-chipped dog.   You’re more likely than not gonna pass some dude’s house where an offender is serving home detention, wearin’ a transmitter anklet beamin’ up to one of those satellites, you know?   Shit.  7 a.m. Log on to check your on-line stock trades, leaving a trace of the pages you visit.  7:30 a.m., caught by the train camera as you make it to work. Noon.  Go to the library for a book.  Time and place noted electronically… sent up to the satellites for the government big guys to watch.  12:45, cell phone rings… call data, including whereabouts… it all gets sent up to the satellite.  On and on it goes all day, man.  Even at night… your TV is recording all your watchin’ habits… probably watchin’ you as well.”  He laughed.  “And try going for a drive, filling up your tank.  They get your license plate and face on their cameras there too.  Full day of watchin’ and recordin’ our every move. 

“Hell, Satan, this new deal, this iris thing… it’s watchin’ us watchin’ each other right now.  We don’t even need the TV set or the computer screen with its camera to get us… we’re with implant, my friend.  Iris implants.  Cuttin’ edge.  Damn.  We’re special.  That’s what they want us to believe, you know?  Special.  Gonna use our data to help cure social problems, he tells me.  That Urian guy thinks I’m stupid.”  He looks up at the sky.  “Yeah, I know, you’re gettin’ all this… thinkin’ I’m a trouble maker.  Well…”  He brought his gaze to Satan again.  “We’re not stupid, are we old boy?  We know there ain’t no way you’re the system gonna cure this fucked up society.  Long gone.  Long gone.”  He smiled.  “But…”  He stood up and cradled Satan’s head against his cheek.  “Havin’ the old rent paid… Nice.  At least they’re payin’ for their stupidity.  Yeah, payin’ for it.” 

He stood back.  “So, what do you think?  Can I improvise okay?”

The horse remained motionless.

“No comment, huh?  That bad?”  Tito hugged Satan’s head.

Suddenly, Satan broke Tito’s grip, flinging him to the ground.  He reared up; nostrils flared, eyes wild, and stomped down, catching Tito’s foot. 

Tito screamed in pain, bringing Dennis running from the next carriage where he had been sharing a coffee with another driver.

“Tito… Satan, God damn you.”  Dennis grabbed the horse’s bridle.  “Tito, you all right?”

“Fuck no, I’m not alright.  What’s with your fucking horse?”

A calmer Satan, but with eyes showing confusion, stood still, quietly whinning and leaned his head down toward Tito.

Tito lunged toward the sidewalk, holding his leg.  “Stay away!  Stay away!”  He looked down at his steel-toed boots.  The left boot showed the dented toe as he quickly unlaced and lifted his foot out. 

“Is it broke?” asked Dennis, his voice quivering with anger.

“Is it broke?” shouted Tito.  “You crazy?  Of course.  It’s smashed for Christ’s sake.”

“Here,” said Dennis, hurriedly assisting him to his feet.  “Let me help you into the carriage.  St. Luke’s ER is just a few minutes away.  Here…”

As Dennis helped Tito into the carriage, Satan eyed their movement over his shoulder.  He whinnied repeatedly, until Dennis snapped the reins and they took off down Central Park South toward the hospital.

***

Swirling around A2 were images of the last few minutes.  On the big screen in front of her was a split showing Tito’s confused vision darting from his broken foot, to Dennis, to the drooping head of Satan as he plodded along toward the hospital.  Satan’s POV revealed the asphalt roadway passing beneath his hooves and his mournful whinny becoming one with the cacophony of city horns and sirens.

***

In the monitoring bay, Ramon, Wyatt and Krauslin rose to their feet as Satan’s breathing became irregular and upset.  “Jesus,” said Wyatt.  “What’s with a horse sounding  like it’s about ready to cry?”

“Bet A2 knows,” said Ramon.  “Bet she knows all about it.”   

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