Authors: Robert Kroese
“
I had a friend who was a paramedic for a while.”
He smiles.
“How long?”
I get his point. It takes a special kind of person to deal with that shit day after day. Most people don
’t last very long. And you have to have some reason to do it – some abstract notion that you’re helping people, because if you focus on the here-and-now, it will bury you. But if what Heller is saying is true, then Tali couldn’t take refuge in abstracts either. So why did she do it? Why did she put herself through that kind of suffering, not to mention putting herself in harm’s way? Maybe she was just incapable of doing nothing.
“
So you’re not going to do anything about Hayward?”
“
That’s correct,” he says.
“
What if I do it?”
He frowns at me.
“Why do you want to get mixed up in this stuff? You’ll regret it.”
“
I can’t just sit here and wait for whatever is going to happen. I have to do something.” I think I mean it, but part of me is thinking that when Tali does return, she’s going to have a more positive opinion of me if I’ve filled in for her while she’s gone. I feel the need to prove myself to her, show her I’m not just some depressed loser. God, I’m an ass.
He regards me for a moment,
then shrugs. “What kind of phone do you have?”
“
Android,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket. “Why?”
“
Too bad. Tali and I use iPhones. I don’t have a Tyche app for Android.”
The way conversations with Heller veer between the metaphysical and mundane gives me vertigo.
“Tyche app?”
“
Tyche is the Greek goddess of good fortune. Our weapon against Ananke, if you will. It’s our name for the whole system we have set up to monitor the psionic fields. You see, all the data from the psionic field detectors is uploaded to that machine.” He points to the computer. “The data then has to be interpreted and displayed in a useful way. There are several ways to look at the data, but the most intuitive way to see active cases unfolding is on a map. I wrote the original application that displays this map with the cases and cruxes marked on it. When Tali first started interfering with the cruxes we would have to be in contact by phone, so I could give her real-time data as the numbers changed. Eventually she adapted the application for her iPhone. You don’t really need it, though. I can call you if there are any major changes in the PDCs. All you really need is that.”
He means the randomizer, which I
’m still holding. “How do I …”
“
Nothing to it. The randomizer’s range is about thirty feet. You can keep it in your pocket to avoid attention. The pulse is directional, meaning that it will emit in a conical shape from the front of the device. As long as it’s pointed in roughly the right direction, you can’t miss. Just keep your phone out of its path, or you’ll wipe its memory.”
“
So I just get within thirty feet of the tosser …” I break into laughter.
“
We use the word
target
,” says Heller.
Recovering, I continue,
“I get within thirty feet of the target and press the button. That’s it?”
“
That’s all there is to it. The randomizer will either emit a pulse or not. And make sure you are within range before you hit the button. You’ll only get one shot.”
“
Because it only has one charge?”
“
No. I mean, that’s part of it. But the randomizer is programmed to work only once every ten minutes. That prevents you from skewing the odds by tampering more than once.”
“
How do I know if it worked?”
“
A lot of people don’t die.”
“
No, I mean, how do I know if the device emitted a pulse?”
“
What difference does it make? It isn’t the pulse that changes the outcome of the case; it’s the possibility of a pulse. Asking whether a pulse was emitted is like asking what color a bullet is. It makes no difference to the outcome. But to answer your question, the button will go dark if a pulse is released, indicating the battery is dead. If the light turns red, the charge hasn’t been expended, but you’ll have to wait ten minutes before the device will work again.”
I shelve my philosophical objections for now.
“OK, anything else I need to know?”
“
Just get in and out as fast as you can. The crux is right in the middle of the case location, which means that if the event occurs, it’s going to happen right around the location of the coin toss. You’ve got nine minutes between the crux and the event. Don’t stick around to see if the tampering worked. It doesn’t matter. Just get out.”
“
Tali knew immediately that her tampering at the pier worked.”
“
She was looking at the Tyche app,” he says. “The PDC of the event will drop to near zero if the tampering works.”
“
So you’ll know immediately after the toss?”
“
Yes.”
“
Send me a text. Yes if it worked, no if it didn’t.”
“
Why? You can’t …”
“
Just do it. Please.”
He shrugs and goes back to the keyboard and taps a few keys. A printer on the workbench spits out two pages.
“Here,” he says, handing me the sheets. The top one is a map of downtown Hayward; the second one is blow-up of the center of the map. “The crux is here,” he says, tapping a dot in the center of the blow-up. The time is approximate, but it will become more definite as the crux approaches. I’ll give you a call two minutes before the crux with an exact time. The pulse only lasts for about three seconds, so you’ve got to be exact.”
“
Got it,” I say, and head for the door.
“
Good luck,” says Heller, smiling coldly. “Whatever that means.”
I run to my car and drive as fast as I dare to Hayward. The area of the crux is an old four-story apartment building in a marginal area of town. I park on the street a hundred yards or so away and
make my way to the building. The crux location appears to be inside. Luckily there’s an old woman entering the building just ahead of me with a bag of groceries. I run up and hold the door for her. She smiles and says thank you. Her hair is a weird shade of auburn that doesn’t match either her complexion or her roots, which are gray. Her eyebrows have been drawn on with a pencil that matches the unnatural hair color. Creepy.
I smile back and then follow her into the building. She walks up the stairs and I keep going down the hall.
It’s 3:20, which gives me six minutes to reach the crux. As I get farther down the hall, I realize that the crux is inside one of the apartments, probably the one on the back left, 114. Heller said the range of the randomizer is about thirty feet, and presumably it will go through walls without any trouble, so I could probably just point the thing at the door to 114 and press the button. I loiter in the hall, waiting for Heller to call.
There
’s a noise from upstairs, sounds like an argument. A man and a woman. I can’t make out the words, but the tone doesn’t sound violent; just typical couple stuff. I don’t hear anything going on in 114. What if it’s empty? Should I knock? I look at the map again. The resolution isn’t fine enough to be absolutely certain that 114 is the right apartment; the crux might be in 113. Or … shit.
The map is two-dimensional. The building has four floors and I have no way of knowing which floor the crux is on. God damn it. Now what? I climb the stairs to the second floor. The noise is coming from inside 214. I scamper up to the third floor and pause briefly at 314.
Nothing. I continue to the fourth floor. There are noises coming from down the hall, but I don’t hear anything from 414. My phone says 3:23. Come on, Heller. Call me.
I run back down to the second floor, figuring that 214 is my best bet, since there are definitely people inside. And if it ends up being 114 or 314, I can probably still get there in time. I
’m shaking and sweaty; I’m not used to this much exercise. As I lean against the wall across from 214, my phone rings.
“
Heller!” I whisper. “What floor is it? I can’t tell …”
“
I know, I’m working on it.”
“
Working on it? Jesus, I’ve got less than two minutes.”
“
The data is still a little fuzzy. I’m pretty sure it’s the first or second floor, probably the last apartment on the right.” That means 114 or 214. But which one?
“
Should I just point the randomizer between floors and hope for the best?”
“
Hold on.”
Shit. The waiting is killing me. I run back down to the first floor and bang on the door to 114.
“Hello!” I shout. “Is anybody in there?” I wait a few seconds. No reply. I bang again. “Anything yet, Heller?” I stop to take a breath. “We’re cutting it pretty close here.”
“
Still can’t pinpoint it. The probable crux area is about twenty feet in diameter, right between the first and second floor. You’re just going to have to make your best guess.”
Now gasping for air and drenched with sweat, I run back up to the second floor. My phone says 3:25.
“Do you have an exact time yet?” I wheeze.
“
Three twenty-six and fifteen seconds, accurate to within five seconds. I’ll have a better number shortly.”
“
OK.” I pull the randomizer from my jacket and point it at the door to 214. I notice the arguing has stopped. Then the door opens.
“
Who the fuck are you?” says the tall black man who has just opened the door. “What the fuck is that?”
“
I’m … checking the wiring,” I say, thinking quickly. “The management company sent me.” I wipe sweat from my brow with the back of my left hand, which is still holding my phone. I’m trying not to breathe heavily.
“
About fucking time,” says the guy. Over his shoulder he shouts, “Tina, the guy is here about the wiring.” He motions for me to come in. I step into the apartment. It’s messy and small and it smells like mildew and weed.
“
Oh, thank God,” says a heavyset woman as she emerges from the kitchen. She’s lighter skinned than he, and looks to be about eight months pregnant. “You all right?”
I nod, feeling a little light-headed from lack of oxygen. My fingers are tingling.
“You want to start with the disposal or the bathroom outlet?” she says.
For a moment the question makes no sense to me. Then I remember I
’m supposed to be the maintenance guy. Disposal or bathroom outlet, I think. This must be the choice, the crux that determines whether the event happens or not. An electrical problem in the bathroom could start a fire. So I should probably check out the outlet. But what if it’s my investigation of the outlet that causes the fire? It’s hard to see how a garbage disposal could kill twenty people. On the other hand, maybe the electrical fire happens in the bathroom because I’m in the kitchen looking at the disposal. The safest course of action would be to get everybody out of the building. But how?
“
Three twenty-six and twelve seconds,” says a small voice. Heller is still on the phone. “You’ve got twenty seconds.”
“
Got it,” I say into the phone and hang up, dropping it into my pocket.
Don
’t try to outwit Ananke, I find myself thinking. She’s smarter than you. “Flip a coin,” I say.
“
What?” says the man.
“
To decide which one I should look at first. Flip a coin. Here.” I produce a dime from my pocket and hold it out for the man.
He doesn
’t take it. “Why don’t you just start in the kitchen?” he says. Nobody uses that outlet but Tina anyways. We need the disposal.”
“
Asshole,” says Tina. “I could electrify myself with that outlet.”
“
I’ll get to them both,” I lie. “You just need to pick which one I do first. Please.”
“
Fuck that,” says the guy. “Do the disposal.” Unbelievable. Why is he making such an issue out of this?
“
I’ll flip,” says Tina, taking the coin. Thank God. “Heads, he does the bathroom first, tails the disposal.”
The man shrugs.
Tina places the dime carefully on her thumb. I’m so carried away by the drama that I almost forget to push the button, but I do it, just half a second before her thumb twitches, sending the coin into the air. It arcs, spinning in the air, and comes down on her right palm. She smacks her palm against the back of her right hand and then pulls it away.
“
Heads,” she says, grinning at the man.
The man glowers at her.
“Fuck that,” he says. “Do the disposal.”
Shit, I think.
Now
what? I don’t know what the rules are for this kind of situation. I check my phone. No text from Heller yet.