Song of the Red-Legged Birds: Chapter 30: Popped
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With gratitude, Bill
Last week, in chapter 29, Holly and Takeda met The Guy
Chapter 30: Popped
“Are you kidding me, Arthur?”
“No, I’m not. The boy, Luke… he’s a prodigy. He came up with something big. It’s scary as hell, but better that we know,” Arthur said.
Christo sat back on the couch, looking deflated. He ran a hand through his hair.
“Not two hours ago, I balled them out for screwing up, and they come back with this. What do we do here? The grid has been pulsing every day for a year? What is that? It’s like someone knocking on your front door and never going away until you answer. What the fuck are we supposed to do?”
Arthur sat down next to him. “Step one has got to be calling the higher-ups. Now that the code has been deployed, there’s not much time before every nation has the same discussion. They’ll want to get in front of it fast–get the spin machine running. Stall while we research.”
“Yes, I know. Of course, you’re right. I had wanted to come back to them with a solution. This is like going to the doctor for a cold and discovering its cancer.”
“Cancer is curable, my friend.” He patted Christo on the leg. “And I’d rather know so I can get that shit zapped out of me. Did I ever tell you my wife Alani had cancer last year?”
“How did I not know that?” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry, man–I’m sorry I’m not a better friend. Damn. Is she ok?”
“Dude, don’t worry about it. She’s fine. They kicked that shit right out of her. It’s all good now. I didn’t want to stress you about it last year. You had enough to deal with here. That was probably a little selfish on my part. You could’ve handled it. I just didn’t want you to have to worry about me, too.”
“And because of Annette?” Christo said, looking at the floor.
“Yeah, buddy. I know that’s been hard on you. I also know you visit her every day. I can’t imagine how painful it is for her not to remember who you are. Alani and I have both of you in our prayers every night. Hopefully, they’ll find a cure for that wretched, cruel disease.”
Christo swallowed hard. “Thanks, man.” He whispered, avoiding eye contact.
“Art?” Christo cleared his throat.
“Yes?”
“You pray? Like every night? Knowing all that you know?”
“Yup. Working here has convinced me even more that I don’t know shit about anything. Look at today. I’m humbled by my ignorance and always pray for help and guidance. Who’s listening? Got me, brotha.”
Christo put his head in his hands. “Fuck. Just fucking fuck.”
“Hey, hey, what’s going on? I mean, aside from the obvious.”
“Art, you should have had my job. You’re better at this than I am. I’m fucking up, acting like an asshole. Considering things that I would never…” He looked at his hands, then at him.
Arthur eyed him thoughtfully. “Listen, man, and hear me. You got this. Dis shit bra, like a big swell, kickin’ up in front of you, scary as shit and a lot to deal with, but you go at it. You go at it ’cause ain’t no runnin’ from it. Maybe you got started a little off, make a bad choice here and there, you correct and get after it. No matter whatchoo’ been thinking about, I got yo back, bra, always fuckin will.” He thumped his chest and gave his biggest smile.
Christo turned his face away and wiped his forearm across his eyes.
“Got my island slang really going there. You ready to get after this shit, my man? Make some calls?” Arthur said.
Christo got up, and Arthur did too. They locked hands together and slapped each other on the back.
Careen walked into the small kitchen with her coffee mug that said, 'stop reading my mug.' She found Luke at the microwave, heating his lunch.
"Smells like… reheated takeout? Am I right?"
"Yup, it's loco moco, kind of my favorite. Beef, rice, gravy, and a fried egg. Want some?"
"That's sweet, but no. I'm here for the caffeine." She thrust her cup under the steel coffee machine and pressed buttons that set it whirring.
Luke took his food from the microwave to one of two available round tables and sat down. Careen leaned back against the counter as beans ground and milk steamed. She watched him push food around his plate, barely eating.
"Counting calories, or am I stressing you out?"
"Huh?"
The machine beeped. She grabbed the tankard of energy and sat across from him.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" Careen said.
"Uh, sure."
"You're living situation; I hope you're not still crashing on the beach?" She sipped, cradling the warm mug with both hands.
"I don't sleep on the beach anymore. It got kind of dangerous. I liked it a lot, but it seemed kind of dumb since this job pays really well. I'm sharing a little place in Paia, got a couple of roommates."
"Roommates?" Careen said while brushing stray crumbs onto the floor. "Are they nice? Good people?"
"Oh yeah, they're cool. Human Resources helped me find great ones, which was good because I never lived on my own before. I like these guys, and it's kind of neat hanging out with them. The only thing I don't like is how I can't talk about work. They think I work at the observatory next door. Sometimes they say, ‘See ya later, star-gazer’ when I head to work."
She watched him take a few bites of egg, rice, and beef.
"Maybe I will take a taste. It looks good." Careen grabbed a plastic fork from the container on the table and scooped up a bite. "Holy balls, that's delicious!"
"Right!" Luke smiled with rice stuck to his chin.
"You got a little…" she motioned, wiping. The young coder dispatched the sticky white blisters to the floor, his neck reddening.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"Sure."
Luke pushed the plate closer to her. She took another bite.
"This stuff with the grid pulsing, like, I know we don't exactly know why and who but..." He put his fork down and rubbed his hands together.
"But what?"
He made eye contact with her and seemed to find what he needed. "What if I wanted to tell, like, my roommates about it? They're super cool, and I'd tell them to keep it a secret. Eventually, people are going to know anyway, right? Like… if it's dangerous."
Careen eyed him with sympathy for his brilliance and innocence. She pushed the long, blue hair in front of her eyes out of the way.
"Give me your hand."
"My hand?"
"Yes."
He extended it towards her. She held it in both of hers and slid close to him.
"Luke, you're a great kid. I like you, and I'd like to see your smiling face for as long as I'm working here. But you have to promise me something?"
"Uh, okay…"
"Promise me that you'll never talk to anyone, and I mean anyone, about the work you do here."
He looked down at his hand in hers.
"Luke?"
"Because I'd get fired?"
Careen tilted her head at him.
"I think you know that getting fired would be the very least of your problems. You've heard this before, so it worries me that you'd consider talking to your roommates. We have a good time here in our small group. We're paid well, and live in paradise. That can cloud your judgment. Please remember, the consequences for leaking information about what happens here are as severe as it gets."
Luke stared at her, then shifted his gaze to the table.
"I need to hear you say that you promise."
"Okay, okay. I promise." His neck started to redden again.
"Listen, I got all serious there because I care. I understand why you want to share with your new friends. Keeping even small secrets is hard. Like right now. I want to tell you what happened on the latest episode of Space Cake. That's more of a spoiler than a secret, but it's similar. The point is, I know it's hard to do, so please come talk to me first if you ever consider this again."
She squeezed his hand and let it go. After a moment, he nodded and picked up his fork.
"So, what did happen on Space Cake? Was the captain a creature all along?"
"Oh, no, buddy. I'm not wrecking it for you or anyone. Catch up!"
Desmond walked into the kitchen with his empty mug. "What's up with you two?"
Careen sat up straight. "Talking Space Cake, Des."
"Love that show. How the hell does it make sense that the captain was a creature this whole time?" Desmond said while jamming his cup into the machine.
Careen looked at Luke, smiled, and sighed.
Christo returned to his office, shut the door, and flopped into his chair. He took a long drink from a half-full water bottle while eyeing the small silver framed photo on his desk. It was one of the few signs of life in his little space in the volcano. He put the bottle down, wiped his mouth, and picked up the picture. He and Annette were holding hands at their reception. She wore a simple yet stunning wedding gown with a dazzling smile. Christo looked like he’d won the lottery.
He gripped the frame tighter with both hands and leaned forward, letting the tears win.
“I’m so happy, baby. I hope you know how much I love you. Let’s remember this moment forever. It’s ours, and I’m yours.”
The music and noise of the reception faded away as she whispered those words in his ear. They settled into a warm recess of his mind and made a home. Annette nuzzled her head into his neck and melted with him. He pulled her closer and closed his eyes. Bliss, that’s what that word means….
Christo shook his head to stop himself. He crashed a drawer open, tossed the photo in, and slammed it shut.
He stared at the drawer while rubbing the back of his hand across the stubble of his unshaven face.
He opened the drawer again. With reverence this time, and took the photo out with both hands. Christo touched Annette’s face and placed the frame on the desk.
Another drawer opened. He fished around until finding a small nip of Jameson, a remnant from a business trip. Christo grimaced while downing the biting hooch in a gulp, chasing it with a swig of cold coffee.
Straightening up, he ran a hand through his hair, then faced the computer. He loaded Tom’s contact card and was about to hit ‘Connect’ when an incoming vid call from Tom flashed. He accepted it.
“Hello, Tom.”
Christo’s boss looked like a mixture of anger and frustration. He was smoking, generally not a good sign. Christo braced himself.
Tom looked at him and raised both hands, signifying that he wouldn’t speak first.
“You’re aware we deployed code to all satellites.”
Tom widened his eyes and tilted his head.
“That deployment was to test a critical issue, and it revealed something significant. I made a judgment call to do this without international authorization and am prepared to take the hit.”
Tom crushed out his cigarette and blinked.
“The bubble has been pulsing daily for over a year.” He brought up the three-dimensional model on-screen. “The purple layer displays the new level of information we’ve uncovered.” Christo scrolled backward in time, displaying the throbbing color highlight.
Tom edged forward, squinting. “Send that to me, now.”
Christo dragged the file onto the chat window.
“Every day for a year?” Tom looked up at the ceiling. “I shouldn’t have to ask this. Has it been thoroughly tested? Read, are you certain this is accurate? Because I’ll tell you something, until you’ve been dressed down by the goddamn President of the United States in the Oval Office, you haven’t had a bad day.” His face filled the display.
“I’m very sorry, I…”
“Don’t fucking apologize to me. Ever. IT DOESN’T DO SHIT.”
“My attempt to save face with the President by giving him this intel may save my ass. It will help to assuage the feelings of the many nations that are pissed off right now. Our blatant disregard for protocol could be viewed as hostile. I’ll ask the question again, and I want a simple yes or no answer. I don’t want to see you blink or hear you breathe. Is this information one hundred percent accurate?”
Christo sat frozen. “Yes.”
“Now you’re being helpful. I may be able to unfuck myself. What about the viewers on the ground? You said you deployed an asset. Is that taken care of?”
Christo opened an application that displayed an unread message. He clicked on it:
#3 NEUTRALIZED. #1 & 2 ON THE RUN. COVER BLOWN.
“The asset took care of one of the targets before his cover was blown. The primary two are on the run. That’s all I know at the moment.”
Tom shook his head. “That’s not good enough. We can’t catch two children with all we have at our disposal?”
“We’ll pick them up soon,” Christo said.
“Has your team cracked the Red Foot Network? It’s a matter of time before news of these two shows up there. Once that happens, making them disappear is going to look bad. Meaning that it’ll look like what it is.”
“We’re working on it but haven’t cracked it in a while. The Guy, if that’s a person or a group, knows we’re probing the lines. He’s defended it well, but we’ll get in.”
From behind Tom, there was a knock on the door. It opened, and a woman stepped in, holding a tablet. “Sir, the President would like to speak with you again.”
“Thank you, I’ll be right there.”
“Christo, one more thing. Why the fuck were you not answering your phone the past two hours while my ass was hanging in the breeze?”
“Hard to explain quickly, but I have a good reason.”
“It had better be.”
The screen went dark.
Tom loaded the model Christo sent onto his tablet. He straightened his tie and walked out of the office. When he closed the door, his secretary, Jeanine, announced: “Tom, you know Congresswoman Picolo from Maine.”
“Of course. Good morning, Sarah.” He shook her hand. Sarah Picolo was six feet tall, and Tom had to tilt his head to make eye contact.
“We’ve time scheduled this morning, but it appears you’ve got other plans?”
“I’m on my way to see the President. If we never talk again, it’s been real. Do you want to reschedule?” He reached for the doorknob.
“Can I walk with you?” She asked as he hustled into the hallway.
“Sure, hurry.” He said brusquely.
She took one step to every two of his. “Tom, I want to talk to you about The Centers in our district. I understand there’s an effort to reduce or cut funding.”
They turned a corner dodging two suits in a heated conversation.
“I don’t know a thing about that. Even if I did, what could I do to help with it? I’m the Secretary of the PDCO.”
They went through a heavy door and headed down a curved flight of carpeted stairs.
“The Centers provide an important function in Maine. A place to rejuvenate and celebrate life, we’ve found it quite critical in the current state of affairs.”
They took a left after reaching the bottom.
“You could say the same for every state. You’re running out of time. What can I do for you?” He looked down at his tablet and then picked up the pace. Their shoes echoed on the tiled floor.
She put a hand on his shoulder, and he instinctively stopped walking. They faced each other.
“There are rumors that something has changed, up there. You must know about it.” She raised perfect eyebrows, and he stared stone-faced. “Come on. We’ve known each other for a very long time, way before you were appointed. What can you tell me?” She touched his hand.
“I need to talk to the President, and I don’t know what rumors you’re referring to.” He withdrew his hand and started walking again.
“Has there been contact?” She said, too loud.
Tom looked left and right and hurried back. He closed on her and lowered his voice. “I don’t know who you’re getting your information from, but it’s not me. It would come from me, understood? If you still want to discuss this, call Jeanine and get back on my calendar.” He turned on his heels and walked away.
“Okay. Let’s talk again when you have more time.” She said loud enough for him to hear.
He waved over his shoulder without turning around and passed through a door, the sound of his footsteps receding.
Sarah smoothed her dress, took out her phone, and dialed.
“Hey. Yeah.” She listened, then said, “He’s hiding something. I’ll let you know.”
She pocketed the phone and headed back towards Tom’s office.
Next week in Chapter 31, “What’s in the box?” Wake delivers details.