"Where are we?" I ask Brittany, perplexed. It's a well warranted inquiry, because our setting is not at all what I expected. When Britt said she had a friend, I was expecting some sort of High School buddy or something, maybe someone from a middle class neighborhood, but definitely not this. To say the least, I find myself at a loss for words. (Except for the words I found to ask "Where are we?")
In front of us looms an enormous mansion. It's huge, and when I say huge, I mean whale gorilla monster huge. It is very vogue, embodying every trend available to modern day tycoons, ultra-capitalists and corporate overlords.
The house it's self is designed to look like some fairy tale castle. The house is several stories high, made of brick and covered in ivory. Spires poke up into sky, bent and twirled to look like sea shells. Soft crystalline lights glimmer from hidden spots in the walls, so bright that they are clearly visible in the late afternoon light, even the dark purple ones. There are no windows, probably only cameras allow for any view onto the outside world.
Really, more impressive than the house is the yard. The grass is a genetically modified organism that was only recently invented. It glows with natural purple phosphorescence, and sways with organic movement, probably as a result of its carnivorous plant genes.
Dotting the grass are black marble figures. Gods and ancient athletes, their shining surfaces capture the light of the grass and causes the figures to glow in an almost celestial nature. Between the statues strut elegant peacocks.
The whole thing is surrounded by a massive towering fence. Spikes top it, and signs warn of electric voltage. We're in Brittany's little bug, and she steers it on the road that stretches along the fence. I feel as if we are attempting to enter a battle fortress, and I almost expect a barrage of arrows or boiling cauldrons of oil to come down upon us as we seek entry.
Eventually, undeterred by any sort of defensive procedure, we arrive at a large gate that could probably fit a freeway through it when open. Beside it is a security booth with black one way windows.
Maybe we'll just be shot by good old fashioned guns rather than covered in oil.
Parking by the security booth, Brittany leans out the car door and raps on the window.
A speaker crackles and pops, preparing to address us. I'm expecting it to say something threatening, like "you have ten seconds before we open fire." But again, I am surprised.
"Ms. Brittany," it's a gruff meathead voice, the kind you'd expect from a guard, but it manages somehow to be welcoming, "A pleasure to see you back at the estate. Please, enter."
The gates slide open with a mechanical creaking moan. I realize that I've let my mouth drop.
Brittany looks over at me, happy that she has impressed me. I suddenly try to resist the urge to ogle, and definitely refuse to ask questions, not wanting her to know how bewildered I really am. I yawn dramatically, but she smirks, showing she's not buying it. Eventually we park among a collection of elegant automobiles. Brittany's bug is very out of place, since we are next to various sleek sports cars. Examining them, I realize that they must each cost several million credits.
We exit the bug, but the parking lot is a distance from the main door. A long, cobblestone path leads to the wooden doors that are the mouth to the mansion.
Fine, I won't be a jerk anymore. I'm too desperate for an explanation.
"Brittany, what the heck is going on?"
"We're going to find out where Tag is."
"Thank you, I realize this. But where are we? And how do you have access to a place like this?"
She ignores me, knocking on the door. The sound is barely audible since the wood is apparently very thick, absorbing Brittany's puny blows. She than pushes a door bell to the right of the doors, and the air is reverberated by a thunderous tone, vibrating the grass around us. It's not a recording either, I look up and see that there is an actual brass bell the size of a witches cauldron hanging behind a wooden trellis.
As the last tones of the bell dissipate, the peacocks around the yard suddenly converge on us.
"Welcome, Ms. Brittany!" they shout over and over. Their screechy voices demonstrate that they are obviously the hybrid of not only peacocks, but probably parrots or mockingbirds as well.
The doors open, slowly, apparently not feeling the need to rush. A butler greets us with a bow. (He's exactly like the movies, upturned nose, dapperly dressed, and voice that expresses class and shameless snobbery.)
"Ms. Brittany. A pleasure to see you at the estate again. Have you been busy?"
"Yes, Reginald, I have, thanks for asking. I brought a friend who'd like to talk to Mr. Priest."
"Excellent." He says. He even does the squinty eye thing and has his nose upturned. I desperately want to mock him, but decide that might not be appropriate.
He shows us in, invites us to wait, closes the door, and is off for who I presume to be the master of the house, Mr. Priest.
The interior of the house is even more impressive than the outside. As the doors close, shutting out the voices of the peacocks, I observe a crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling that probably weighs a ton or two. You can look all the way to the top ceiling, the upper floors looming around us, rails defending potential inhabitants from falling down. A stair way spirals down from the top, descending to the floor. It is carpeted with a royal purple.
The floor gleams, and I notice the walls are covered with portraits. Here and there you can see pottery and vases. They're probably ancient or valuable since they all have plaques by them. I assume these are to confirm authenticity. Music plays distantly from the bowels of this goliath house. It sounds too real and natural to be just a recording.
"Seriously, Brittany, tell me what's going on."
She turns to me and puts a finger to my lips.
"Tut, tut, my darling. You have but to wait. Soon your burning questions shall be extinguished."
Ugh. She is so annoying.
A quick pitter patter of feet can be heard, coming from the stair well. The pitter patter grows into a crashing, and a man thunders down. He is dressed in complete humble contrast to the house, his garb consisting of sport shorts that are embarrassingly small, ratty tennis shoes, and a t shirt advertising his sports team of choice. He's covered in sweat, which soaks into a tight yellow head band.
The man makes it to the bottom of the stairs, face red with exertion, dripping perspiration. He breathes heavily, larger breaths occasionally shooting spittle.
"Britty! You're back! It's been nearly a month!"
Brittany runs up to him, hugging the sweaty (and as he grows closer, I realize also stinky) man.
"Daddy!" she squeals. Her voice is suddenly angelic and, even for her, unnaturally high.
Well, that was a shock. I guess it shouldn't have been. There was plenty of evidence, and anyone able to see the signs could have guessed as much.
The duo cuddles for a bit, creating a syrupy and disgusting display. It comes as a breath of fresh air when the two finally break. The man's head turns towards me.
"Who is this Brittany?" His says in a deep voice, his head turning towards me. I realize he is a very big man, in muscle and girth. His stomach protrudes far beyond his belt, and his torso is well padded, but his arms bulge as if stuffed with small boulders. His hair is stylistically cut, though damp and disheveled. His bristling moustache tops of the image, making me question whether he looks more like a bear or a walrus.
He would strike quite an imposing image if my own strength were proportionate to my frame. Of course, it isn't. Despite this, the man still manages to intimidate me somehow, but only briefly.
"This is my friend, Adam." Brittany says, referring to me.
He walks towards me, tank like. He extends a massive hand, which I take, and he shakes vigorously.
"Hello, Adam. If you're a friend of Brittany's, then you're my friend."
"Uh... Thank you sir..." are the only words I can get out.
He smiles. But he looks at me strangely. He stares into my eyes, and I think he suddenly knows more about me than I want him to know.
"Well, I'd like to catch up with my daughter, and get to know you Adam. But I imagine you are all hungry, so without further ado, let's eat."
I have hardly met the man, but I suddenly feel a wave of love for him.
---
The feeling of love I felt for Mr. Priest is only affirmed as we are lead into a large dining room, roughly the size of a tennis court. Somehow, the large table that stretches almost the entire length is already set. The plates, silver ware, and table cloth all fit in with the rest of the house. (They're elegant, to put it lightly.)
We sit, and as much as I want to interrogate Brittany, learn more about this man, and move forward with the reason for which we are here, Mr. Priest insists that we not talk, but rather load our plates. He piles his own with meats and steaming vegetables, as well as various other dishes that even I have never eaten, and can hardly identify. He prompts me with a demanding but friendly invitation to do the same. I admit that I feel for Brittany, who is unable to share in the experience. She sits pleasantly by her father, not complaining.
I finish my plate. Though it probably held a couple pounds of food, I am, as typical, still pretty hungry. However, I abstain, not wanting to be rude or appear strange.
"Have another plate, Adam. I know it takes more than that to fill a deviant."
I pause as I drink my freshly squeezed orange juice, surprised.
"What?"
He chuckles heartily. "Don't pretend that it isn't obvious. First of all, you're bald, clearly a result of burnout. You have the scars as well. Your eyes are too green to be human and your hand didn't crush when I shook it. Also, you have several other tells which few but I can discern."
"Why so educated?" I ask.
"I'm a rich man. I have a good number of security guards who are deviants. I'd have a job for you to; a deviant with your kind of burns must have a pretty good control over burnout."
"Thanks, but I'm not interested."
"Of course not. However, I'd be curious to know exactly what it is you're interested in."
Good, we're getting around to things. I suddenly realize though, that this is an awkward situation. How am I supposed to ask this man to illegally tap phones? What kind of explanation am I supposed to give him? Come to think of it, how much should I reveal about my escapades with Brittany? Is he even aware of his daughter's strange choice of hobbies?
"Um, well, I think that Brittany might be able to explain."
Brittany is zoning off, staring at some art on a far wall. I look. The paintings depict a man being brutally beaten by a crowd of scorning peasants. Considering their dress, this appears be depicting a time that passed thousands of years ago. The man's face is twisted in agony, and he looks up, as if seeking help from on high. The painting disturbs me, though in a way it is beautiful.
"Brittany?" I say. Her eyes snap to me. "Could you tell your dad why we're here?"
"Oh, right." She looks at dad, and gives him the kind of voice you'd hear from a teen asking to break curfew. "Daddy, Adam want's to tap someone's cell phone."
I'm a bit surprised at her straight forwardness.
Mr. Priest looks to me, smiling.
"Oh, is that it? So Brittany has got you caught up in her work, has she?"
Well, I'd sort of say I got her caught up on my work, but I don't want him asking too many questions about what it is I'm pursuing.
"Yes. You're aware of what your daughter does?"
He laughs, shaking the table with his voice. "Well, of course, how do you think she affords all of her stuff? She pursues her hobby full time, and she doesn't exactly have time to earn rent money."
Huh, well duh, I guess. She does have multiple apartments, a mess of gear she totes around on her back, and a car. That stuff doesn't come free.
"How exactly is it that you are so rich?" I ask. I realize that I'm being a bit straight forward, but curiosity currently precedes my sense of tact.
"I'm an entrepreneur, and have been several times. Ambition, my boy, and self-application. That's what you need to succeed."
"Ok, but what businesses have you created?"
He smiles at me. I'm noticing something about the man. On the outside he seems deceptively joyous, almost daft. Like a circus bear. But inside I realize he has a certain amount cunning hidden within his friendly exterior. He is suspicious of me. I think sarcastically that maybe it's because I'm a boy that his daughter brought home. I realize suddenly that he probably is thinking exactly that.
"I own various business's, from genetic research companies to security services. However, it does it matter? What does matter is who exactly I'm supposed to be tapping." His voice has a little bit of bite behind it. I think he realizes somewhere that I'm the one in need, not his daughter. He probably wants to know what I'm dragging her into.
"Daddy, we're taking down an illegal metal manufacturer! He's big time and everything! This could be my big break!" Says Brittany.
Mr. Priest turns towards her, and grins largely. "Well is that all? I was thinking that you were going to tap the government again. That didn't work out so well last time, now did it?"
"Oh, daddy. I was trying to find higher profile criminal records. Not anything bad."
"But it took a lot of money to get Gauntlet off your my shoulders when they caught us."
"Yeah, I guess.
I watch the little interchange, disbelieving that this little family actually exists.
"Well, let me have the phone number, Adam. We can get it tracked, location and all, without your target knowing probably."
He hands me a pen, and I write the number down on a napkin, passing it to him. He claps loudly, and the butler enters the room.
"Take this to the tech guys, Alfred."
Alfred!? I stifle an incredulous scoff.
---
"Adam, I won't ask your back story. I know you won't give it to me, at least not and honest one. But let me get this straight. Brittany may be indestructible physically, but her emotions are very fragile. Do anything to offend her, or hurt her, and I will have you destroyed." He says.
We're still waiting on the tech guys. Mr. Priest has sent Brittany to check on them. He and I sit alone in the dining room, the plates and food long ago having been cleared from the table.
"Mr. Priest, let me explain this situation. I have been pursuing this illegal manufacturer for a little over a year, and never had planned to involve anyone. Brittany involved herself. She is only with me because she insisted on accompanying me."
"Be that as it may, Brittany told me something. She says you're going to get her into Gauntlet. You're a Gauntlet agent?"
"I was. Capturing Tag is my key back in. Once I'm in, I'm sure I can put in a good word."
"You're not a good liar."
"I'm not lying."
He smiles at me falsely rather than arguing further.
"Brittany is her own woman. She can follow you if she wants, I won't tell her otherwise. You, on the other hand. I'll hold you to your promise." He is very serious, and again, he inspires a little bit of fear in me even though I could easily double him in half, backwards, as if her were a twig.
"Ok." I say.
"Well, good." He says, suddenly turning cheery again. "Really, tapping shouldn't take any time at all. You should be ready to go any time now. Is there anything you need before you go?
---
Most BEADS have the new function that projects the 3D image of whoever you're talking with in front of you. It's still a developing technology, and presents only a small, fuzzy, flickering image. However, I realize this is a special occasion, and the 3D technology might help to make it special.
Long ago, I bought a BEAD without call functionality, knowing that Gauntlet is definitely able to track calls, not only by the ID on the phone, but occasionally, if they are searching for you, they are even able to find their targets by voice recognition alone.
However, Gauntlet's systems can be slow, and I figure that my adventure is drawing to a close. Gauntlet won't have enough time to track me before I'm at Tag's base. So I asked Mr. Priest to borrow one of his BEADS.
"I can do you one better. I own a software company, and they're developing something quite delightful."
I enter a small room. Well, more of a closet. It's very small. Around the room are various projector eyes.
"This room projects a far more detailed as well as to scale image. This should do you."
I thank him, and he leaves. I shut the door for privacy. There is enough room for me to sit, and then a little space in front of me as if for someone else to sit, except this is the area to which all the projector eyes are pointing.
I wonder briefly how you are to tell someone that this may be the last time you'll ever see them.
I give the booth a voice command, telling it what number to call.
Speakers fill the room with a dial tone. It buzzes for thirty seconds, and no one answers.
I try again.
It begins to ring again. I wonder to myself why I'm forcing myself to make this call. Out of duty I guess. Probably also out of loneliness and desperation.
The dial tone is just about to peeter out again, when suddenly an image flickers to life. It takes a few seconds, but suddenly, before me, sits a man. He glows blue, and occasionally burst of light disrupt his image, but I try hard to imagine as if he is really here.
He's an older man. Clean shaven, his hair has a very sophisticated salt and pepper coloration. He is in a crisp white dress shirt and bold red tie. He sits, staring at what for him must be a smaller, less clear image. He sits in a wheel chair, one leg withered and dead, the other gone all together. I am tempted for a second to reach out and touch him, but know that would be pointless.
The man stares at me, and gasps in disbelief, "Adam."
"Hi, dad."
"Adam, it's been a year! We didn't know where you went, if Gauntlet had caught you and just not told us. Where are you? Wait, no, I need to get your mother..." he makes as if to leave.
"No, dad, don't I'm not going to talk for that long, and I don't want to spend it with mom crying."
My dad pauses, and eventually settles.
"Adam, you have no time. Gauntlet has been watching our calls. They're probably on your trail as we speak."
He's right. If I had called anywhere else, they might have not caught me, or if they did, it would have taking them a while. Now I've basically confirmed that they'll be here within hours. I shrug internally.
"Dad, it's all right. I just wanted to talk to you."
"Don't tell me you're doing something foolish, or something you'd regret."
"I won't regret it. But that's not what I want to talk about."
"What do you want to talk about?" I can see that he desperately wants to talk about what has happened to me for the past year. What it is that I'm about to do. I know he wants to see me again, to talk in person. But his face drops in resignation. He knows this is all he's going to get.
(And it's probably the last he's going to get. You're preparing for you last stand, Adam!)
"How's Joey?" I ask.
"Oh, he's good, he's good." Says dad.
"He's sixteen now, right?"
"Yes. His birthday was last week."
"He hasn't deviated?"
"No, he hasn't. It's looking like he probably won't." my father's eyes are slightly sorrowful when he says this. It's as if deviation were a football team that Joey didn't make.
"That's good." I say, shooting down my father's sentiment. "He can pursue something normal now. How's mom?"
"She's good. She misses you a lot."
"I know."
It's just about as awkward as I had ever imagined this little reunion would be. Dad sits silently, and I echo him. What is there to say? I've haven't seen him for a year, but I imagine my family has gone unchanged. They surely found ways to adjust to the fact that there boy has become a fugitive of the government. Except for that little inconvenience, they have probably led as close to a normal life as a family can who's patriarch is a crippled, retired government deviant.
Finally, my dad breaks the silence.
"Son, we don't know very well what happened, between you and Amber, and the others, and I'm not asking. I just want you to know, that we don't care. We love you, and we pray for you every day."
I smile, but only half way.
"Thanks..." I'm beginning to think this call was a bad idea. Could anything that makes me feel so miserable have been a good idea?
"Dad, tell mom and Joey I love them."
Dad realizes the time is short, and quickly tries for a few last words, "Adam, we do to. Remember, you'll always be..."
"Hang up." I command the booth. The projector eyes die out, and the room dims to darkness.
I close my eyes and sit a while.
---
I'm walking out side of the mansion. Beyond the land owned by Brittany's father, there are rolling, manicured lawns. The winter is fresh, and the grass still manages to somehow be green. Never any closer than a mile are the occasional neighboring houses. I've been walking for a while now. Though my trot has been slow, I've already seen nearly half a dozen other mansions, though they all have been comparatively smaller.
The sun sets. It's cold. I look at the overcast sky, and realize that if it weren't for the street lamps it would be very dark. Walking up to one of the lamps, I sit, leaning my back against the metal. Surely it's probably chilly, but my deviant skin doesn't feel it.
Wow. I'm lonely. For the past year, I'd suffered from solitude almost consistently. But this is the first time since the plane that I've been able to feel much else than dedication and fury.
Snow begins to blur my vision. It shocks me how quickly it begins, going from nothing to sudden onslaught. My vision quickly becomes limited to a couple dozen feet.
The lab technicians had been quick, and Mr. Priest had given me the address to Tag's location surprisingly fast. When I'd received it, I told Brittany I'd need a breath of fresh air. Which I had.
But not just a breath of fresh air. I consider now just running, making off, finding a cab or a rental, and making off for my destination, far across the country. Fingering the slip in my pocket that has the address written on it, I realize Brittany can't come. She has a family to whom she can return. Even if she is indestructible, which still seems impossible to me, she can still be arrested.
My thoughts are interrupted. Somebody emerges from the darkness, and I fear its Brittany. It's a distant figure, trudging through the snow which has already begun to accumulate. Still a shadow, it is very clearly heading towards me. Well, that's all right, I guess it would have been bad just to abandon her. This will give me a chance to confront her, and ask futilely for her forgiveness.
Wait, but something is wrong. The newcomer's walk doesn't have Brittany's girly rhythm. The figure is far to mature. Also, to tall. The Call had been idly creeping in my brain, but now it shrivels and disappears, leaving only my natural emotions which are becoming shock and, honestly, terror.
Oh. God.
Seriously, God! Please, let this be a lie. What I'm seeing isn't true. She can't see me yet. But I know that it can't be so, what I'm seeing is real. All the contents of my body well up in the bottom of my stomach, and I know I've become pale, even for a Deviant.
It's Amber. Her voice cut's through the night air, hitting my senses with a rush.
"Adam, it's been a while hasn't it?" as she speaks I suddenly want to stand and run, but I'm suddenly jelly.
"I can't say I haven't missed you." She continues.
She walks, or seems to drift, to my side, and sits by me, her shoulder brushing mine as she also leans against the pole. I can't talk, and she doesn't talk, she just sits by my side. However, I finally manage to stutter.
"How did you find me?" I know the answer.
"We tracked your call to your parents."
"Why did they send you?" That was my real question.
"Dramatic justice I suppose. Who better to bring you in than me?"
I notice her uniform, still black. I'm shocked she hasn't been promoted to International by now. Why, of all things, is this the thought that is passing through my head?
"Adam, what are you doing? You were never so sloppy, calling your family. Unless, of course, you weren't being sloppy. You've found him, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"A bit away. A long drive, but not worth flying."
There's so much I want to say, and so much I'm afraid to say. I've loved her for the past year, just as strong as I ever had. However, this moment, right now is, proving that absence makes the heart grow stronger. The emotions I'm feeling for her are unbelievable, and I want nothing more to desperately hold her, and interrogate her about the past year of her life. But I know I can't.
She seems to realize that I'm not going to speak. So she does. "How were you in the Priest residency?"
"What?"
"The call, it was from the Priest residency.
"Oh, I made friends with his daughter."
"You dragged someone else into this?" She says, a hint of anger in her voice.
"I was just about to ditch her."
"Good."
We sit now, silent. I had thought that the day I saw her again would be my greatest day. But now, I feel miserable, like a shamed child. I turn to her, and for the first time since she sat I look at her face.
"Amber, I'm this close to bringing him in. Let me do this."
"I will. But I'm doing it with you."
"I have to do it alone."
"Don't be an idiot. You know you'll need my help. Don't have the pretense to think that you should... protect me... again." She says, misreading my meaning.
"That's not it."
"So it's not about protecting me?" She says.
"I need to do this alone, because maybe then they'll let me back."
She stands, suddenly, and stares at me with a bewildered look. Her eyes snap between disgust and confusion.
"This is about Gauntlet?" she says, voice barely audible.
I stand to. I'm nearly six inches taller, but she still manages to seem like a giant.
"No." I say. "I couldn't care less about Gauntlet. This is about..." I trail off.
"What? Is it about revenge? Justice? Clearing your name?" She demands, almost as desperate for answers as I am.
"It's about winning you back!" I shout, before I can control myself. I stop, knowing I've said too much. But now that it's too late, I might as well finish. "It's about you. I love you!"
It sounds so sappy, and I see her face twist with an emotion that could be best described as sickened amusement.
"What, you think that if you get your job back, I might accept you again? That we could be together again?" She laughs upon saying this.
"No... Yes. I know what I did hurt you. It's held you back..."
Now the disgust does come completely out on her face, and to full effect.
"How blind are you? You think I wouldn't want you because of politics? Because of my career? I don't want you because you betrayed our friends. Your friends. I could never be with someone, or even trust someone, who did what you did." She says. She manages to keep her voice low and controlled, but it still is obvious that she is appalled at me, and I see her hand twitch, as if wanting to strike out.
"I did it for you!" I yell in a tone I would have once never imagined using on Amber.
"Like hell! And guess what! Every night I'm haunted with nightmares, because what you did is my fault to!" She screams this, and points an accusing finger. "If it hadn't been for me, you might have been able to save them, all of them! But you didn't! And now, every night, I wake up screaming. I can't look in the mirror any more Adam! Every day, people look at me in disgust, and I know I deserve it! You did this to me, and I did this to me!"
As she says the last few words, her voice cracks, and she sobs once. Tears fall from her eyes, and I take her into my arms. At first she struggles, but then embraces me, knowing that this is a gesture of comfort, not of affection.
"Adam, you were, and still are, one of the most important people in my life. But I don't love you, and never will."
"Ok," is all I can say.
"We are going to get Tag together. We'll destroy him, and maybe then I'll be able to sleep again. But after that, I don't know if I'll ever be able to see you again."
We stand for a long time, and my mind is mewling in pain on the inside. But I keep it in order, somehow, on the outside. I look over my Ambers head, which is burrowed in my shoulder, and see that Brittany is there. I think she's been standing there for a while.
"You never had planned to help me into Gauntlet." She says, face and voice drenched with betrayal. I shake my head no. She turns, and disappears into the snow.
I have no time to consider the gravity of my betrayal. After standing for a while, I ease Amber away from me.
Looking into her face, I say "Let's go..."