RoboNomics

Chapter 61 - 2016

When it comes into view, I gasp at the sight of the bot. It is a perfect sphere about the size of a house cat. 

I can't tell how it works. It hovers in the air, low to the ground. The red light emanates from its round, black body. The laser passes over us and pierces my eyes. 

I hide my face in Austin's shoulder. But when I hear it making a series of strange beeps and chirps, I can't help but peek at it.

The machine lands on the floor. The soft purr of its motor ceases. Segments of its body protrude and push its spherical surface toward us. 

I back further under the desk, pulling Austin with me. A hexagon of its shell falls away. It spits out a roll of translucent material which immediately unfurls on the ground in front of us.

A man's face appears on the surface. I realize that it's a FlexScreen.

"Andrea Anderson?" The man's voice echoes off the walls of the empty office space. "Pardon me, but is your name Andrea Anderson?"

I stare at the screen.

"I know you can hear me. Is your name Andrea Anderson?"

Is it a phone call? I think. I haven't seen anything that could produce a video call since we lost all of our money. 

"Yes," I say haltingly. "That's my name. What do you want?"

"Oh, I see." 

The man on the screen squints at me. He looks like a grandfather. He has white hair and wears an intact sweater vest over a collared button-up shirt. 

"Life among the dying has had its effects, I suppose." I frown at the cryptic sentence. "But never mind that. That can be quickly rectified. Andrea Anderson, what was your mother's name?"

"Who's asking? Why do you want to know?"

"Pardon me, Ms. Anderson, but we need to do this quick. Your middle name is Emily?"

"Yes." I blink with shock.

"And what was your mother's name?"

"Catherine."

"Yes, Catherine Iwan. Formerly of Mississauga?"

"What do you want from me?" I ask warily.

"And this is Dr. Austin Clarke?" The old man glances at the body of my semi-conscious husband.

"What do you want?"

"If you are the Andrea Anderson I'm looking for, I have some news for you." He speaks with stiff formality.

"Bad news?" I set my jaw.

"Well. Perhaps some good and a little bad."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You don't have any reason to trust me. However, what I have to tell you could change your life dramatically and for the better. If you are curious at all, you can meet me tomorrow at this location." 

His face disappears. It's replaced on the FlexScreen with a map directing us from our skyscraper home to the abandoned SickKids hospital further north, on University Avenue. The hospital is now a nest of rotting humanity on the brink of demise.

"Do you know how to get there?" He asks.

"Yes." 

It's a block or two from Queen's Park. I haven't passed the location of the riot in years. There's something about the place that has me spooked. I avoid that entire section of town. It's as if the ghost of Chris' past self haunts it.

"Wonderful! There's a helipad on the roof of one of the taller buildings at Elm and University. Come there tomorrow at one in the afternoon and I'll tell you the news. You may not trust me, Ms. Anderson, but at least come for his sake." He tilts his head towards Austin. "I can see that he's in need of some help. It could mean his life."

I'm about to reply with a firm "no," but the face of the aging man disappears. It's replaced with a milky whiteness that fades to transparency. 

I start bodily as the bot comes back to life. It rolls back into a sphere and starts to hover again. It's gone as quickly as it appeared. Watching it recede makes my skin crawl. I'm not comfortable until it has hovered behind the wall of the derelict office and is gone.

#

As the morning sun slants through the windows that encase the now empty office, I spread out a small, spotted Mcintosh and a pint of tiny, wild raspberries that I got at the market. We have the place to ourselves. 

Even after the spherical bot hovered away, no one returned. Not that I blame them. If I haven't seen it leave, I would have thought the same thing: that this place is tainted now. Tainted by the Scourge.

Austin, under influence of his pills, is lucid and strong enough to talk and eat. His memories of the previous night are only flashes of disconnected dreams. I explain everything between mouthfuls.

"He had clothes, Andrea, real clothes. I remember that much," says Austin when I finish my story. "That means he has money. How bad could it be to just talk to him? Hear what he has to say?"

"But he had a bot, Austin. He must have controlled that bot to get it here. That can't be a good sign."

"Yes, he had a bot. But he said he has good news, didn't he? I think we could use some good news."

I nod slightly at the statement. It's true. The last time we had anything good happen to us was so long ago, I can't remember what it was. 

I only know it was sometime before I lost my career as a teacher. How long ago was that? Five years, maybe more.

Certainly it's been that long since we talked. Really talked, like an actual married couple. Laughed. Flirted. Anything that felt normal. 

Ever since we lost our jobs, we've been nothing but stressed. And then Chris told Austin his lies. It's been three years, and between Austin's patients and getting sick himself, we still haven't talked about it.

I wish I knew how to bring it up. I wish I could explain that it wasn't my fault -- that it never happened -- that it was never my fault. 

How could I explain it? How could I make him believe me? I wish I could just come out and say it -- ask him why he stayed with me if he believed me guilty of cheating.

But every time I started to talk about it, he changed the subject. He busied himself with helping others. He got sick and needed me to take care of him.

And who else would take care of him, if not me? Despite the fact we had yet to talk it out, I've still been his wife this whole time. 

That implied some sort of loyalty, didn't it? It meant that I had to look out for him. I had to take a risk for both of us, if it meant our lives could finally get better again.

I still nod slightly to what he'd said. I slip my hand absently into his. But then I think of something.

"He also said he had bad news. And I don't think we need any more of that."

He looks at my hand and rubs the back of it with his thumb. 

"Andrea, look around you. Look at where we are, how we live. Even if it's a small piece of good news, it might mean we can get out of here." He looks up at me, his violet eyes locked on mine. "And anything's better than this."

(Continued in Chapter 62...)

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