The Audric Experiment Page 13

  Pierre looked at the tablet and saw Ethan picking up some potato chips from a table next to the couch. He said, “We’ll round up all the Karma subjects for the rebellion. When we have access to the computer at Southwick we can control all the electronic devices in Brighton. And we can talk to people via their acceptors.”

  “What about Pierre?” Chester said.

  “We can explain about the GSKT 2300 and how everyone should use it to create a perfect world. We’ll get Pierre to agree. Then we change Audric into what we want it to be,” Ethan said.

  “Let me talk to him. Let me talk them down,” Pierre said.

  “Call Ethan Chadwick’s houseboat,” Elijah said to the tablet.

  They heard a ringing sound and then the tablet registered someone picking up. “Yeah?” Ethan said.

  “Ethan, this is Elijah Harbinger. I’m here with Pierre Morena.”

  “Prove it,” Ethan said.

  They heard Ethan’s tablet announce, “Voice print identified: Elijah Harbinger.”

  “Hi, Pierre. Hi, Mr. Harbinger,” Chester said. “How are you?”

  “I’ll be a lot better once you break up your little clubhouse,” Harbinger said.

  “We’re not doing anything,” Chester said.

  “We have a listening device on Ethan,” Elijah said. “We know what you’re doing.”

  “You can’t stop us,” Ethan said.

  “Pierre, you didn’t fall thirteen stories,” Chester said. “You’ve been duped by a knowledge implanting device.”

  “I know,” Pierre said. “I only have two years to live.”

  “No one’s explained it to you then,” Chester said. “Mike told me. He’s one of the Karma subjects and he told us about a knowledge implanting device Little Amore is interested in. They say it’s called the GSKT 2300 and implants a reason one needs the knowledge. For you, the reason was that Devin Snitch is going to kill you. You just need to confront Devin. You need to kill him.

  “Is that true?” Pierre asked Elijah.

  “Yes. Your primary metaphor, being on a racetrack, was created by the GSKT 2300. Your first shock was followed by a dream created by the metaphor,” Elijah said. “If you kill Devin you lose the knowledge and you’re cured. The problem is if you confront Devin you will most likely kill yourself, like you did in your dream at the infirmary. Because your brain wants you to keep the knowledge you have now thanks to the GSKT 2300.”

  “How are you guys doing otherwise,” Chester asked. “Still alive, huh?”

  “Chester,” Elijah said. “I know you’re depressed but going to Southwick Harbor isn’t the answer.”

  “Then what is the answer,” Chester said forcefully.

  “You tell me. What would suffice as an environmental anti-depressant?”

  “We’re going,” Chester said. He hung up.

  “He’s in love with a girl named Julie,” Pierre told Elijah.

  “What does she think of him?”

  “I don’t know. But he thinks she thinks he’s a bum.”

  “He is a bum. You two are not allowed to be romantic until after the speech. That gives you two weeks. You need to stay alive. It won’t be easy.”

  “You expect me to just walk into depression without a fight?” Pierre said.

  “Yeah. I do.”

  Pierre shook his head. “I won’t do it. I’m gonna fight until I get my freedom. I’ve been on this path for too long to just give up.”

  “It’s not difficult to institute a depression,” Harbinger said. “Mindblown is doing it to the entire world every day. One merely has to find out what is important to the subject and take it away.”

  “And how will they institute my depression,” Pierre said, angrily.

  “Most likely Genesis Smith will kill your parents. I’ll be surprised if they are still alive. What did David Thindrel say,” Harbinger said, “‘do what you’re told. You’re good at that.’”

  “Go to hell,” Pierre said, as he stood up. He took the briefcase and turned to walk out.

  “No acceptor but maybe Pure Pierre isn’t a joke after all.”

  Pierre looked at Dot. Then he leaned forward and kissed her, confidence flooding into his being. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “Where?” Dot said.

  “You know where. Come on. We probably don’t have much time.”

  Pierre’s parents lived in a peach colored bungalow down the street from Dolphin Park. Pierre held the briefcase with the six hundred pounds in his hands. Dot had a subject she wanted to broach. Pierre was thinking there were most likely drones on his property, combing the area, and sensing motion. Drones were equipped with facial recognition technology, the same as the guns were, and as soon as they spotted Pierre they’d send a photo back to the Audric Earnings Authority.

  “Why did you get so mad at him?” Dot asked shortly after the Sun Pod came to a stop in the park.

  “He knew too much. Even for Harbinger. I didn’t tell David Thindrel I remembered someone at the Atheneum saying ‘do what you’re told. You’re good at that.’ Also, no one knew about my dream at the infirmary. It was in my blue book but there’s no way Elijah Harbinger could know. The only person that knew was Kalpana Thindrel.”

  Dot looked around quietly.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me. How do they make that book anyway?”

  “The Gamblers know something no one can know.”

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “It’s ‘need to know’ information and you’re not even a real Gambler.”

  “Then tell me, what’s an ER Marine Machine?”

  “It’s a torture device. It locks you in and you starve. The only way to escape is by telling it to beat you half to death.”

  “Why do they call it an ER Marine Machine?”

  “Because it’s like a marine that sends you to the Emergency Room.” She looked out the window thoughtfully. “Let’s go.”

  They crossed the Ashley Donovan Parkway and made their way to Pierre’s home. “We’ll go around back,” Pierre said. They walked through the woods until they could see Pierre’s backyard. There weren’t any drones, but something was wrong. Bailey, Pierre’s sheepdog, was barking loudly. Pierre could see through the kitchen window to the driveway. No one was home.

  “He’s not a big barker,” Pierre said.

  “You think someone was here?” Dot said.

  “Yeah. And I think I know who.”

  “Who?”

  A drone flew towards the backyard, bouncing off the side of the home. It had a motion sensor which looked like a blue light and it combed the area. “I need you to distract it. Go ask the drone if Pierre Morena has been here today.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve got an instinct. Trust me.”

  Dot nodded, then stood up and walked towards the drone. Pierre pulled his funds card out of his pocket and ran towards the back entrance to the home. He could hear Dot talking to the drone. “I’m looking for Pierre Morena,” Dot said. “Have you seen him today?”

  Pierre entered the residence and Bailey met him at the door.

  “Hey buddy,” he said quietly.

  The dog ran to Edmond’s office and stood in front of the door. He barked fervently.

  “Someone was in the office?” Pierre asked.

  Bailey barked in response.

  He turned and saw Dot entering the home. “The drone said Pierre Morena was here at 8:15 this morning. It must be malfunctioning.”

  “It’s not malfunctioning. It’s the other Pierre Morena.”

  “What other Pierre Morena?”

  “Not important.” Pierre didn’t want to mention Rio. “I think the office may have been breached.” Pierre took a breath and opened the door. He walked to the phone and pressed the button for voicemail. He combed the display looking for names he recognized. That’s when he saw three entries for Gordy Mitchell. H
e selected all of them, put the phone on speaker, and Pierre and Dot listened to the messages.

  The first message was from early September, approximately two weeks ago. “Mr. and Ms. Morena. This is Gordy Mitchell, Pierre’s friend, calling about a business venture. Generation Gold is selling Pierre’s Orangina Bottles. The one’s he designed in Entrepreneurial Etiquette. We think people can use them as vases or water bottles, maybe they’ll even get picked up by a big company and mass produced. We’re calling around for financial investments in the venture. So if you’re interested give me a call back. Thanks.”

  The second voicemail played. It was from a little less than a week ago, shortly before Gordy met Pierre in the treehouse.

  “Mr. and Ms. Morena. I’m not sure why you blocked my number, but I guess you don’t want to hear from me. I’m calling for a different reason. So give me a call back at this number. Thanks.”

  Pierre felt relieved. His parents hadn’t blocked his calls. They had blocked Gordy’s

  calls. They probably didn’t even know Gordy was calling from the treehouse. In the third and final voicemail, a few days ago, Gordy sounded conciliatory.

  “Hi, Mr. and Ms. Morena. I realize you’re not going to return my calls so I took it upon myself to inform you of the reason I’m calling. There’s a rumor circulating that the codes for Southwick Harbor are located in Elijah Harbinger’s book The Rewarding Gamble. With those codes it should be possible to control the computer. Chester Higgs and the Karma subjects are going to Southwick. The problem is that they say the only person who can decipher the book and find the codes is Pierre because he’s been equipped by a GSKT 2300. He’ll probably be in contact with you soon so give me a call back and we’ll talk about how to proceed. Thank a lot. Hope to hear from you.”

  “I’ve read The Rewarding Gamble,” Dot said. “I didn’t think it had any codes in it. But there’s a story in it, about Barnaby Brown sending a coded letter to Genesis Smith.”

  “Haven’t you heard of a code that makes everyone in Audric happy?”

  “Of course. But everyone knows it’s a myth.”

  Pierre walked over to the blue filing cabinet and Dot asked, “What are you doing?”

  “When I was younger I saw an envelope in here from Santa Clara, Cuba. I want to see if I can find it.”

  “It is in a file labeled ‘Claire Santos.’”

  Pierre found it. “Clair Santos for Santa Clara? Pretty lame disguise.” He looked at Dot to ask her how she knew but then shook his head deciding he’d ask later. Pierre combed the files until he came upon the file Dot spoke of. He inspected the file’s surroundings looking for a booby trap. He took a deep breath and opened the file. He thumbed through the contents. He saw Cloud’s birth certificate. Two arrest reports for Cloud. A letter to a high school in Brighton. A real estate insurance policy for a home in Santa Clara. Cloud’s parents had sent letters asking how Cloud was doing.

  “It’s not here,” Pierre said.

  “You think he came in and took it?” Dot said, looking around.

  “Yeah. But there’s something he didn’t think of.”

  Pierre walked over to the computer. “My Dad backed up everything in that filing

  cabinet. It’s here. And there’s no way anyone except me knows the password.” Pierre pressed some buttons and the letter began to come out of the desk. Pierre picked it up, and checked who it was from. Someone named Saad. Pierre knew it was Caleb Price’s son. He read aloud.

  Dear Cloud and Edmond,

  My bluecoat tried to stop me from sending this letter, but I’m going to be a Gambler sooner or later, even though I live in Santa Clara, Cuba. Stylic ain’t no paradise and I’m not just saying that because as my pops says I have pyromania. You know, Cloud, about behavior problems anyways. Among the MDMA users you’re a legend. We are in the same boat, being attacked by a wildebeest. Remember?

  For me, the wildebeest is Stylic itself. Suicide here is a common occurrence and crime is rampant. Just last Saturday I was held up at a grocery store to the tune of sixty dollars. The worst is that they estimate that at least seventy-five percent of the society has visions of self-torture. My father sees visions of your son, Pierre. Been that way for years. And worst of all, no one knows where the visions come from.

  In Stylic, date rape is a fear for many girls and shocks are a daily nuisance. This is because love is a word that has all but disappeared from the language. I want to help Stylic but to do so you need to help me. I heard Pierre is going to be part of Genesis Smith’s speech to the world, and I think I have more to say than he does. Pierre doesn’t know anything about Stylic.

  I have a black belt in Karate and I’m trained in the art of explosives. I want you to tell Pierre I’m coming for him. I’m moving to Audric to be a Gambler. I was born in Audric and spent the first few years of my life there. About a month ago, I started having the visions too. They are always the same. I see a girl I knew named Anna Lee offering me a knife. I take the knife and begin stabbing myself repeatedly.

  Anna Lee used to go to our school in Roudeville, but left after she met Pierre. I can’t

  stop thinking of her beautiful brown eyes. Pierre got her though, and I believe this is the reason I am having the visions. I believe each of us has the visions for a different personal reason. If I can figure out how to make the visions stop, my help would be so valuable to all two hundred and fifty thousand people in Stylic.

  I want an apology from Pierre, as he ruined Anna’s life, and mine as well. Anna lives at 26 Parsonage Ln. Please tell Anna about this letter, that she shouldn’t worry, and that Saad is coming back for her. If you do me this one favor it will help all of Stylic and the world.

  Sincerely,

  Saad

  “It’s Caleb Price’s son,” Pierre said.

  “What makes you think that?” Dot asked.

  “Kalpana said Caleb’s son has behavior problems. Also, Caleb taught Karate. Caleb is from Stylic. Saad lied. Saad was born in Stylic not in Audric.”

  Dot said, “He sounds Saad.”

  Pierre chuckled. “Crazy is more like it. I hope my parents are all right. I wonder where they went.”

  “Check the last number they called.”

  Pierre scanned up the list of recent calls until he came upon the last entry. It was The Hunley Bookstore. They were, no doubt, going to get the book Gordy mentioned. Harbinger’s book, The Rewarding Gamble.

  “We’re going to the bookstore?” Dot asked.

  “Yeah. Let me put this away first.” He took the briefcase of money into his bedroom and pulled some of the stacks of cash from inside. Then they ran into the woods. Pierre looked around and came to a stop. There was a black Sun Pod parked across the street from the peach colored home. There was a girl in the passenger seat. Pierre couldn’t make out her face.

  Before Pierre and Dot ran back to Dot’s Sun Pod, Pierre saw in the driver’s seat of the black Sun Pod a boy in his early twenties. He had brown hair, green eyes, and a wide face. He turned up an Orangina bottle and drank. And Pierre already knew he was from Stylic. If only for the reason that Rio had said he was circumcised.

  The Hunley Bookstore was shaped like an L, with the café in the back left corner. Outside were flashy displays advertising books. Seeing the Heavens which was a book about the Newton Space Telescope and what the scientists who created it had discovered. Golf for Newbies: the Smart Approach which was about the myths and insufficient advice surrounding the sport. None of the titles were especially noteworthy. But there were some things about bookstores that were.

  Most books were on electronic tablets, or could be downloaded to a tablet. There were also self-printing kiosks where books could be found in a database and printed in under a minute. The quality was identical to that of any print book. Most bookstores had at least one clerk who was responsible for moving the books from a central computer to eith
er the shelves or the printing kiosks.

  Dot turned to him. They’d spent the ride looking behind them for Saad Price’s Sun Pod. It appeared he wasn’t following them. “You need to pick your nose or something?” Dot asked.

  “Huh?”

  “You look like something’s bothering you. It’s all over your face.”

  “I’m starting to remember. That manila file folder. Clair Santos. I’ve seen that file before. Shortly after I found it my Mother told me she was going to a support group.”

  Dot nodded. “You followed her.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Support group meetings every Thursday for thirteen years.”

  “It was a cover. She was meeting you. You met at the Bright Sun Drug Den. There was a restaurant out front. You went into the restaurant, and out the back entrance. Then you went into the drug den. I don’t know what you did.”

  “Talked to a friend.”

  “Then you ate at the restaurant. It was called …”

  “Lonnies.”

  “I watched you. I can remember the stars in your eyes.”

  “Close. The song playing was Hey There, by Rosemary Clooney. Also known for the

  line: ‘you with the stars in your eyes.’”

  “Devin was there with you. He had his arm around you.”

  “Girls gotta eat.”

  “Devin excused himself. The next thing I remember was a gun in my back, a dinner cloth, chloroform, over my face. I heard Devin say, ‘Do what you’re told. You’re good at that.’ When I woke up there was the GSKT 2300 on my face.”

  Dot nodded. “Come on. Time for a family reunion. I won’t get in the way.”

  “I know the clerk. She and I dated for awhile.” The clerk at the Hunley Bookstore was Mammi Ama Oteri, Pierre’s ninth grade girlfriend.

  They walked into the bookstore. He didn’t see his parents and he knew Mammi Ama didn’t know what they looked like. She looked different than she had in school, wearing gold lipstick and gold eye shadow. Her nose was pierced with a gold stud and she had curly black hair.

  “I’ll go print the book,” Dot said, well aware that it was obscure enough not to warrant an electronic tablet.

  Pierre walked towards Mammi Ama. “Keeping tabs on ex-girlfriends are we?” She said.

  “No. But some people I know are. What have you heard about me?”