Untitled - Chapter 4 - Something Wrong - Seg.1

{segment 1 of chapter 4 - Logan}1

I sit on the floor in the labs pulling at the coloured wires in a mech’s head. This is one of the ones that went nuts a few days ago. Supposedly I’m supposed to find the ultimate answer to our problems in here, but I don’t think it’s anything internal. Something on the outside is causing these strange things to happen, and I refer to the word ‘outside’ with a more specific meaning than you would think. The outsiders may be savage, but they’re still people with the same intelligence and wit as the rest of us. I wonder if anyone suspects that the outsiders are working with a traitor. Any idiot could see it. 2

I replace the wires and circuit boards in their correct places even though this guy is only going to the incinerator. Once the bout of insanity is over, the mechs go back to normal. Unfortunately the Emperor doesn’t want to take any chances. It’s all fine and well for him; he lives apart from the rest of the world. What a waste of our dwindling resources. This mech will be melted down and recycled, but it still uses our factories and manpower to do this. I don’t put the head back on its body; if I did, it would restart and I wouldn’t have the heart to send it to its destruction. 3

I turn the head around in my hands so I can see its blank metal face. “May you not be turned into a toaster.”4

The sound of laughter makes me look up. Jonn has just walked in, his hands in his pockets. He bends to walk beneath a mech frame hanging low on the coldly glowing ceiling, and moves a heap of wires out of the way to get to me. The labs are huge but I always like to confine myself to small corners. I watch, holding my tongue, as he moves clumsily through my fragile tools.5

“Do you ever sleep?” he asks when he finally reaches me, finding a clear place on a table to lean on. “It’s nearly midnight.”6

I put the mech head down beside me. “Hmm, I just wanted to finish what I was doing.”7

“Are you done now?”8

“I am now.” I stand up, stretching my cramped shoulders. “How’s your injury?”9

Jonn pulls up the bottom of his shirt to reveal a bandage covering the side of his abdomen. “Well, it wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. It’s just a bit of a scrape.”10

“From a bullet,” I scoff. “A bullet with impact explosions. I swear when you showed me that night I caught a glimpse of your intestines.”11

“Don’t overreact,” he laughs. “With a little artificial skin and a healthy donation of blood, they stitched me back up nicely.”12

“I’m amazed you were able to move after just a couple of days.”13

“Drugs, my good man. They’re a fucking miracle.”14

We don’t say anything for a while. Clearly we both have stuff to think about. What’s on most people’s minds at the moment is the mech attacks, becoming more and more frequent. We’ve had one every week for the past three weeks. “I’m hungry,” I say, breaking the silence. “Got any food with you?”15

Jonn looks up. “Nah, sorry. I don’t exactly carry sandwiches around in my pockets.”16

“Come with me to the shop then.”17

I carefully pick a path back out of my corner and we leave the labs. We get in the lift and have to wait for others to join us; in such a tall building there are many floors and many people. We get through the foyer and leave through the main doors. The cool lights of the City fade to nothing in the face of the complete darkness above us. Once, there was a black-out on a rare night that the moon was full and bright and the clouds were thinner than usual. Families gathered on their rooftops to stare up at the blurred shape of the moon through the grey. It was a once-in-a-lifetime sight.18

Jonn and I move along the sidewalk, through the maze of streets until we come to the closest 24-hour café. By the time we’re looking through the glass at cakes and pies, Jonn decides he’s hungry too. We throw down a pie each and leave.19

“You know,” Jonn says as we head to our street on foot, “I heard you almost got yourself killed in that fight with the mechs. A mate of mine told me he saw you throw one off you, and this was apparently after you crashed into a building. According to him, you should have been dead but you just got up and kept going.”20

I freeze. Someone else saw that? How many people saw? I quickly maintain my composure. “I sound like a superhuman. I hope you don’t believe that crap.”21

He laughs. “No, of course not. The story’s obviously been exaggerated quite a lot. No one believes him, but I’m sure something a little less fantastic still happened. One thing he told us was something difficult to lie about. He said the mech stabbed you straight through both your shoulders. He was adamant because he saw the blood ‘streaming’ down your arms. You never told me you got hurt.”22

I shrug. “It wasn’t that bad. I shoved some silicone on the injury until the fight was over, and then I got healed up fine that same night.”23

Jonn shakes his head, smiling. “You and your miracles…”24

“How is it a miracle?” I ask. “I told you it wasn’t that bad.”25

“No, it’s just you’ve had so many close shaves in the years I’ve known you; you don’t even bother trying to protect yourself, and you always pop up fine.”26

“I’m just lucky, I guess.”27

“Lucky’s an understatement. Someone’s looking out for you.”28

I look ahead and wonder if that’s true, but perhaps a different ‘someone’ than Jonn is referring to. We’re nearly home. “So who was this idiot spreading insane rumours about me?”29

“No one you know. I guy I train with; Mathieu. His family’s French in case you didn’t guess, but he speaks English same as the rest of us. Why do you ask? Gonna go rough him up?” he asks wryly.30

I roll my eyes. “No, I was just curious.” This guy doesn't seem like one people take seriously, so I don't think I have anything to worry about.31

We get to our street where our one-room homes sit side-by side. Our accommodation is more like two of a string of rooms on the street all joined together like cabins. At least we all have our own front doors. When I was on my own and didn’t have the money to support myself years ago, Jonn took me in and got me a job with the troops. He didn’t ask me anything about my past, and to this day he still doesn’t. He’s in his twenties so we could easily get away with saying I was his brother. At my new job I displayed a certain talent, especially with the mechs. From there I was promoted a lot, I sidestepped into a different field… and here I am today.32

I place my hand on my door to unseal it with my print, and groan as I remember what I’m doing tomorrow. “I have to go report to the Emperor in the morning…”33

Jonn unseals his door and pauses in the threshold. “Quit saying that like it’s a bad thing. I’d kill to meet the Emperor.”34

“You wouldn’t if you knew him.” Muttering goodbye, the two of us go into our homes. I lie on my bed, still in my day clothes and stare at the ceiling. 35

**36

The next morning I haul myself to the bathroom, shower, and change into formal clothing. I’m wearing a black shirt with pinstripes. The design is apparently trendy according to a woman I sometimes speak with at the labs, with an open collar and buttons running all the way down the long sleeves for no particular reason. I just bought it because it was comfortable, but I'd never say that to her.37

I seal my door and make the millionth phone call to the insurance company, asking for a new bike. I lost it because of a work hazard, so work should cover it, right? Apparently not. I’m just sick of walking everywhere or taking public transport for the past few days. I want my bike back. I walk to the train station, on hold for the entire time, until a few minutes after I’ve sat down on the train. The woman on the other end of the line says she’ll send in my request, but that’s what they told me all the other times. Sighing, I hang up the phone and look out the window. A mech comes around asking for tickets, and I hand it mine to scan. 38

Soon I arrive at the main station and head off to the tallest building in the City; the one where I’ll meet with the Emperor. He’s governing us quite well, (not that he makes a lot of decisions—he’s more of a figurehead) but there’s something about him that doesn’t feel right. Or maybe his personality just irritates me. I’m not sure.39

After speaking briefly to the receptionist in the lobby, I take one of the large elevators to the 8th floor. Leaving the lift, I greet the two large men standing in front of the doors.40

“I’m Logan, the Head Mech Specialist. I’m here to meet with the Emperor.”41

“We know who you are,” one mutters as they push the big doors inward for me. 42

Nodding to them, I stride confidently up the long dark purple carpet to the gold table, where the Emperor sits between the Prime Ministers and his advisors. The room is lit on both sides by the thick windows covering the walls, revealing the City below. The floor is polished black marble where the carpet hasn’t covered it. I bow smoothly and wait for the Emperor to speak.43

“Welcome, Logan. It’s times like these when the importance of your profession is hi-lighted, do you agree?”44

“Yes, Highness,” I reply, bowing my head. I look him straight in the eye, because it unnerves him. Few people have the temerity to do so, but my skills are irreplaceable and I know it. The Emperor is a tall, slim man with pronounced cheekbones and narrow, pale eyes framed by dark brows. His black hair is strewn with stray silver strands, the same as his short beard. He’s covered in rich folds of material with gold stitching.45

“Let’s get to the point then,” he says. “Do you yet know the cause of the recent problems we’ve had with the mechs?”46

I shake my head. “I apologise, but…”47

“Do you have any suspicions?”48

For a moment I consider the question. “I… have narrowed down the possibilities somewhat.”49

He indicates with a flick of his hand for me to continue. That’s the sort of thing he does that irritates me. He seems to believe the world is only here for him, along with everyone in it.50

“I’ve studied the mechs in every possible way, down to the smallest detail. I consulted their programming, any recent upgrades that may have caused all this, behaviour triggers, and of course the physical mechanics. I had some of my best employees work on the same things in case I might miss something, not that I ever have or plan to. Naturally I also compared numerous mechs that have experienced these episodes with a number that have remained sane. But there is no difference.”51

“And your point is?” the Emperor glowers at me.52

“…What do you mean?” I frown.53

He leans forward in his seat and rests his elbows on the table. “What is your point, Logan? Have you spent valuable time and resources for the past few months on a dead end? Have you failed?” He shakes his head. “You must have missed something.”54

His accusations make me angry. When have I ever given him grounds not to trust in my skills? “I missed nothing, and neither did my staff. If you would let me finish, Highness—”55

“Did you search right down to the miniscule wires and systems?” the advisor sitting on the Emperor’s right interrupts. He was the Head Mech Specialist before I came along, and this was his promotion so that he would be out of the way. “Are you sure you checked everything?” he continues. “The virus may be contained in the simplest place.”56

“Of course I did,” I snap. Do these people live to patronise me? “And why do you assume it’s a virus? If you made such assumptions, you would miss many possibilities, don’t you think? Or did you accidentally say that because you’re involved in this problem somehow? We can all guess your motives,” I smirk. My argument is quite reasonable. 57

He scowls. “What else could it be, other than a virus?” he defends.58

“Let me finish speaking and perhaps you’ll find out.” I wait, in case there are going to be more interruptions, but there are none. “In my research I didn’t waste any time or resources,” I assure my audience. “During that time I was able to rule out completely the possibility that this problem is internal. The point I’m trying to make is that the mechs themselves are perfect. Something on the outside is tampering with them.”59

A million questions are thrown at me at once. 60

“How can so many be affected at the same time?”61

“Who would have that much power? It must be a huge gang of people to pull something like this off. But how are they doing it without leaving any trace behind?”62

“Why on earth would anyone do it anyway?”63

“The Outsiders can’t be involved in it; they know nothing of our technology, and even if they did, they can’t get to us within the walls. So it must be the Insiders. But who of the City would want to do that? We live in a peace that’s almost too perfect, for god’s sake!”64

“What are they doing anyway? We can’t stop what we can’t identify.”65

“The mechs are everywhere; they have access to everything we have! When they go berserk, they create so much destruction, and so many lives are lost. Why would any Insider do this to his own people? Why would anyone do it all?”66

I hold up my hands. “That, my friends, is exactly what I’m trying to find out.”67

They silence. A bald Prime Minister takes a deep, exhausted breath. I had no idea the authorities were stressing so much about this. Normally they’re so detached from the real world. I suppose it has become very serious then. The Emperor taps his fingers on the smooth gold table. 68

“Is that all you wished to discuss with me?” I ask.69

He nods thoughtfully.70

“Good. While I’m here, I should tell you; my bike was destroyed in the last mech battle, and the Insurance Company is being no help. If one of you could take a minute to make a phone call for me just to hurry things along, that would be great.”71

The advisor who has it in for me slams his hand down on the table. “Since when have we been at your service?”72

“I merely asked for a favour. I need my bike to get to emergency situations quickly. Unless you feel my help isn’t needed…”73

The Emperor waves his hand lazily. “Just do it.”74

I bow deeply and leave. 75

In the lift I think about what one of the advisors said. ‘We live in a peace that’s almost too perfect, for god’s sake!’ 76

But how can that be true, I wonder, when such a phrase is exclaimed in a desperate tone? Just because you say it’s peaceful, doesn’t make it true. I smile grimly. The City has never represented peace. It seems the Outsiders are finally catching up to us.77

That meeting was exhausting. Politicians have such conniving, prideful, often just plain resentful emotions. Today these feelings were slapping into my face along with a nice portion of selfish fear. I walk as quickly as I can through the busiest part of the City to my usual refuge.78

My footsteps echo on the marble floor as I take a relieved breath on my way down the aisle of an empty church. The ceiling is a dome of stained glass panels, depicting saints and scenes from the ancient stories. I don’t feel the need to debate my beliefs of how the world came to be, so I avoid thinking about what my religion might be. I just come to churches a lot because they’re relaxing, calming places.79

The City is full of conflicting emotions, while churches generally hold people who come here with the intentions of being a good human being. The people in churches feel more pure, I suppose. They’re all as human as the rest of us and probably sin as much as the rest of us, but in church, their emotions are almost always that of pure goodwill, inspiration, and faith. It’s beautiful, really. I nearly feel better about the world when I visit churches.80

Nevertheless, people seem to feel so deeply in these buildings, and there are so many different people who have walked this aisle, that they leave behind a vague feeling. There’s a power in these places. Whether this is because of any higher being or just because of the goodwill of the people who come here, I don’t know. But a church seems to be the only place where there’s no buzzing in the back of my mind of someone far away feeling hateful.81

The trouble is I can’t stay here all day. I have to go to work soon or they’ll know I’m slacking off. And the moment I leave this church, the emotions will slam into me again. There’s something wrong with this world.82

This evening when I finally come home some time past midnight, I find a brand new bike sitting out the front of my place. It’s a nice new model. I expect the tag on the handle bar to be a note saying something from the sender, but instead it reads, 83

What a crappy bike. I’m here if you want to swap –Jonn84

Laughing slightly, I pull the tag off and go inside.85