Those the future left be.., p.10
Those the Future Left Behind, page 10
ComCom: Send: “I know. Apologies.” PendCom
“Let me know a couple of weeks in advance the next time you are going to be working with us, and I can think about how we can work out the kinks.”
ComCom: Send: “I appreciate that. However, I don’t think an encore is likely. Thanks for your assistance, Chance.” EndCom
Daria leaned over and showed me a place on her data pad.
“Sorry, I was …” I pointed at my left temple.
“It’s fine and stop apologizing! You did well today. The GCDs were acceptable losses and you collected as you said. You were the one who was supposed to take her out, per your rotation requirements. The methods might have been unorthodox within the Bureau, but you played to your strengths. I know I would have liked to go out that way as opposed to cowering behind closed doors. Maybe that’s why I let you go for it. Most of my team’s targets don’t get that privilege.”
She took her helmet off and dropped her balaclava, bending her head down to catch my eye, in a bid to raise my spirits, her bangs getting in the way. I unsealed a pocket, pulled out her hair tie, and launched it at her hand. She managed to corral it with her thumb.
“Thanks for continuing to bet on me. I know it is not easy.”
We sat for a while until the extraction drones showed up. Daria debriefed with the rest of the squad. Chance was heading back to the WAB Bureau, and Giselle was going to meet with NERDoD after taking a day off in Morocco. The hull of our ride slid open to receive us and I repulsed in after Daria. As we walked to our seats, Daria sent the coordinates for the sushi place she picked out for approval. The drone rerouted and was set to drop us off on a landing pad of the thirty-sixth floor of Vintrey Tower One in Abu Dhabi. Access codes to our rooms were sent along with a generous check-in window as well.
“I’ll send my report in some time tomorrow, but what did you think of your recon rotation? I liked having you along! It was nice to spend time together on the job.”
“As much as I yearn to be able to work with you again, I don’t think I am suited for recon detachments. They are too impersonal for my liking.”
“I figured.”
Daria yawned, made herself comfortable across the seats, and nestled her head on my lap. I leaned back against my seat and propped my head against a support beam as I absentmindedly ran my fingers through her hair, waiting for the hum of the engines to lull me to sleep as I gazed once more on to the shimmering sea of sand below, bathed in the colors of the most variegated sunset I had ever had the privilege of beholding. And yet, the deepest crimson spreading over the infinite grains of the Sahara had not been shed by the sun, but by my own hands.
5
0956 – The Matrons
“Your window is open, and Onniheim Orphanage has been notified of your pending arrival and the restrictions placed on their Ascension Ritual. Your request for an extension has been approved, and your PTO has been charged sixteen hours. Your updated PTO balance is 24.25 days. Will there be anything else, Collector?”
ComCom: Send: “That will be all.” EndCom
I rose to my feet from the commudrone stop, which had been my refuge from the frigid Rovaniemi winds for the last two hours, as quietly as possible so as not to disturb my like–minded, homeless companion. I was only about half finished with the first of two self-heating hot chocolates I had bought for the wait on my approval, but the heat from the reaction used to warm my beverage to an ideal drinking temperature had long since seeped away. I gently lifted the right arm of the old man lying on his side under the bench, back turned towards the entrance to better ward off any gusts that might find their way inside the shelter, and nestled both the unfinished and the unopened cans in the crook between his left bicep and his chest. He stirred a bit as I readjusted his shabby blanket over his shoulder and backed away, hoping my ersatz substitute for a teddy bear might bring him some comfort. I checked to ensure I had retrieved all of my effects and crunched out into the December snow.
Bracing myself against the breeze as flurries of flakes swirled along the path in front of me, I began to question my elected form of approach, wondering if disturbing the quiet streets of the early evening of this part of the world with a Bureau car might have been the better choice. My data pad reminded me that the orphanage was only a few blocks away, and I felt content in my volition as I rounded a corner and descried some children marveling at a decrepit clock post. One of the three younglings, covered toe to top in purple, puffy, insulated clothes, save for the face, whirled around to look at me, expecting the arrival of, I assumed, yet another child and backpedaled into his friend in shock who also turned around to meet me.
“S–sgoin’?” The unwitting lookout chattered, though from fear or the chill I was unsure.
“Sgoin’ boys?” I mimicked their vernacular in hopes of setting them at ease.
The final youth still had yet to turn around, and the lookout hit her, harder than he might have intended, on the shoulder twice. As she turned, the lookout signed to her and she looked up at me, her eyes widening. This was certainly fear. It seemed as though the populace of the area was not nearly as accustomed to Collector sightings as most of my other experiences. This was probably a result of the recent changes to the Bureau in the area. The kids must not have been older than nine. I knelt down in the snow in hopes of seeming less intimidating.
“I’m afraid I never learned sign language. Can you keep signing to her, so she understands I’m not here to hurt you or get you into trouble?” I asked the lookout. He nodded and signed. The girl seemed relieved, but there was still a hint of distrust in her eyes.
“May I have your names?” I continued.
The lookout forgot to sign quickly enough, and the girl tugged on his sleeve.
“I’m Matti.” The lookout replied. Then, he pointed at the girl. “This is Johanna.”
“Eero.” The other boy chimed in. “You’re a Collector, huh?”
Johanna signed to Matti and looked at me, inquisitive.
“Johanna wants to know what your name is,” Matti said.
“Collector will be fine for this interaction. Security measures don’t allow me to give out my name. Apologies. I know this is quite rude.” I shrugged my shoulders and gave them a look of helplessness.
Matti paused for a bit, mulling over his translation, and he signed. Johanna laughed quietly and perked up a bit.
“You just made fun of me, didn’t you?” I stared daggers at Matti. Then I broke into a smirk as a look of horror leapt across his face.
“You do know sign language!” He accused me, outstretched, mittened index finger and all. Eero looked at Matti, then at me, mouth agape. I laughed.
“Not quite,” I responded, recomposing myself. “I know expressions. I know the slight movements of your faces. Your body language. You three obviously know each other quite well and that helps eliminate some of the guesswork involved.”
“Woah!” Eero exclaimed.
“That said,” I tapped my HUD array and waggled my data pad in front of them, “I could always scan all of the signs you make, but I’d rather trust you for the rest of our conversation. How does that sound?”
“Hahahaha! The Collector got you!” Eero slapped Matti on the back.
“Okay,” Matti consented, his face reddening.
“So what are you all up to?” I looked around the miniature park, surrounded by apartment buildings so the only exit was behind me. I shifted off to the side a bit to make it seem like I was not guarding their only path of escape.
“We always meet here before we go play before dinner is done,” Matti replied, fingers moving to relay the message.
“At this clock? Do you all live around here?”
“Yeah, but we won’t tell you where. For security reasons.” Matti straightened up, trying to imitate my pose as he said this. I chuckled at the retort.
“Very good! You could make a fine Collector one day.”
Johanna kicked her boots in the snow, impatiently waiting for Matti to catch up. I looked at her, pointed at her, and I tapped behind my ear at my ComCom implantation site, then I curled the fingers on my left hand into a question mark for her to see, tilting my head and raising my eyebrows to convey curiosity. She lifted up her hands and dropped her hood momentarily to swivel her head from side to side, brown ponytail sliding across her shoulders, as she did. Then, she shook her head no and signed apologetically.
“What did you call this place? A clock?” Eero asked.
I studied his face for a second. Then, I responded, pointing at the lamppost, atop which a numberless, luminous, clock face had been affixed.
“That is a clock, not this whole place. Have you never before seen a clock?”
They all turned to look up at the clock, which had twelve glowing, pink bars to symbolize the hours and a sturdy, metal hand that was still moving, but only one. The glass surface that would have protected its face had been shattered, judging by the jagged pieces jutting out from the rim. I was glad that the children were too short to be able to touch the face, though I imagine passersby hadn’t given the forlorn object the time of day in quite some time, much less sought the very same knowledge from its swiveling aspect. Looking at the anchorage point for the base of the clock hands, it seemed as though the second hand had fallen off long ago, but the hour hand had miraculously clung on, determined to fulfill its duty to the last. I walked up and examined the anchorage point to check its durability. The design was dual layered and the outer ring that would have once held the second hand had been compromised. The tiny chink could have been made by a rock or a hailstone, but I didn’t suspect tampering. Luckily, the missing second hand was also second in importance. Most people that might have still used the clock would have preferred to estimate by the hour anyway, but that wouldn’t quite do for my lesson.
“I can teach you all how to use the clock if you’d like.” I turned around to see that the children had all gathered behind me to see what I had been doing.
“I know how to use a clock,” Matti said. “Look. It’s … 5:15.” He pulled his left glove down and his sleeve up to show me his data pad screen.
“That is a digital clock.” I gestured. “This is an analog clock.”
“Nobody uses those anymore, though,” Eero told me, incredulously.
“That is, for the most part, true.” I conceded. “The advent of screens and the digital watch saw to that. You don’t have to learn if you don’t wish. It’s just another piece of knowledge.”
Matti finished signing and Johanna looked at him. Then, she pointed at Eero and Matti signed, conveying what Eero said as opposed to what I had said. She looked at me, her spring green eyes a reminder of that abbreviated season between the winter snows and the nigh ceaseless summer sunlight of the Laplands. She signed, emphatically.
“Johanna wants to learn. I’ll learn too. Eero?”
Eero wiped his nose with the back of his glove and sat down in the snow.
“Okay. Will it take long, though?” He asked, scratching his lower back.
“I’ll teach you the basics, and you can practice by looking it up on your data pad sometime if you want. Sound good?”
“Fine, but my mom wanted me home at 6:15 for dinner.” Eero groaned.
“She always wants you home so early!” Matti complained.
“Well, when we are done, you might be able to estimate how much time you’ll have left for play,” I coaxed.
“I can just ask Matti. He always knows with his data pad.”
“You’ll be able to know by yourself, though it won’t be quite as accurate.”
“Hmmmm. Okay. Last time Matti was sick, my dad took away my games cuz I got home late, so if he’s sick again, I can use the clock to not have that happen?”
“You could, more or less.”
“Apt! Okay, let’s do it!”
Matti sprawled on top of Eero’s legs, making himself comfortable, and Johanna sat cross legged in the snow as I walked over to one of the pine trees ringing around the complex to find a makeshift second hand in the form of a branch. I noted that the fear the children displayed when we had first met had vanished, and I appreciated another opportunity to test my skills, though in a less daunting environment. Childish skepticism is an easy barrier to surmount. Target skepticism is a bit more mature and not nearly as transient. I rummaged in the glistening, freshly fallen snow below the base of one of the pines in the lantern-lit plaza, inspiring the invigorating scent of the sap, and found a suitable instrument.
“Tell Johanna that I don’t know how she can sit like that so easily!” I called over to Matti as I strolled back to them. “I was never able to sit cross legged for more than a few seconds without becoming uncomfortable.”
She looked at me and beamed, then gracefully rose to her feet without the aid of her hands and slowly lowered herself back down into her previous position, signing all the while.
“She says she’s a dancer, a folk dancer.” Matti translated.
I clapped my hands together and looked at her, impressed. I was glad to see that, unlike archaic representations of time, some elder traditions had not been forgotten.
“Let’s begin. Do you all know fractions?”
Eero and Matti nodded, and Johanna quickly followed.
Kudos, Finnish education.
I lectured for the next eighteen minutes while gesticulating between the children and the marks on the clock face with my left hand and my second hand. It seemed as though all of them were following along, though Matti didn’t begin participating with fervor until Johanna began asking questions. Overall, they seemed to be picking up the ideas quite well and my spontaneous endeavor in public relations seemed to be succeeding.
“So, Eero, if your mother requires you to be home at 6:15 and we will be finishing our lesson after about ten more minutes of practice, assuming you answer this question correctly, how much time will you have left to play with your friends if the current time is this?”
I moved the second stick to mark the current time of day.
“Oh! I know!” Matti said, raising his hand, which Johanna quickly wrestled into submission with her right arm while pointing at Eero with her left.
“Ummm. Seven multiplied by five is thirty-five, minus about … two is … 5:33. Uhhh. Forty-two minutes! About!”
“Well done.”
“I knew it first!” Matti jeered.
“So! And you looked at your data pad! I saw you!” Eero yelled.
“Matti. If you’re so smart, you should spend time helping others around you become smarter as opposed to spending it self-validating,” I upbraided.
“What do you mean? I can’t even drive yet. Plus, most autos park themselves.”
“Validating, not valeting. Stop bragging and help Eero become as fast as you.”
A tug forced Matti to pause for a moment and sign what had happened, and Johanna seemed to agree with my challenge.
“Can I count on you to help Eero and Johanna practice when I am gone?”
Matti looked from me to the other two, signed, and then nodded, puffing himself up a bit more under his puffy coat as Johanna smiled at him.
“Lovely. Now, let’s practice a bit more …”
I detected the sounds of heavy footsteps trudging on some of the hard-packed snow around the corner of the complex’s surrounding path, and I instinctively dropped my instrument of education to free up my hand for one of destruction, pausing its swing next to my right thigh.
“I thought I heard yelling over here!” A man’s voice called out as he rounded the corner, covered in orange outerwear, except for his mustachioed mouth. “Are you kids okay?”
“Uncle Niilo!” Matti greeted, as he rolled off of Eero. “Look who we met! It’s a—”
“Kids! Get away from there!” The protective parent roared. “That’s a Collector!”
“We know! We—” Matti tried.
“Now! You should not be here, Collector! These ones are too young for you to take, or have you ‘misidentified’ your target as well?”
I retracted my right hand so as not to exacerbate the bombastic man’s expostulations and I pointed behind Johanna, who had not yet turned around so that she might notice her liberator.
“What does he mean, Collector?” Eero asked as he prepared to leave.
“He means to be stereotypical and snide, but he is attending to your best interests,” I replied with the right words for the wrong audience. “Sorry. He’s right. You all should get along. You wanted to go play anyway.”
“Are you here to take someone? One of us? I thought Collectors only killed adults. Are you here to kill someone?” Eero asked, fear resurfacing in his mien as he backed away from me.
“Technically, I am not going to be killing this time, which is a rarity. I am also not here for any of you. I was only seeking another conversation and to do my part to try to ensure that your generation does not end up like his.” I jerked my head towards the unflinching uncle.
Eero turned around and trudged a few paces before looking over his shoulder as Matti came back to grab Johanna’s hand to lead her away.
“You don’t seem like someone who would kill,” Eero said, with an inflection of doubt that he squashed by the end of his consolation.
“I feel as though I thought that at some point as well …” I searched.
“Let’s go kids! Why are you taking so long! That Collector is dangerous!” Niilo’s voice reverberated off the walls of the U–shaped building. I could see tints being dropped in a few windows now.
I looked at Johanna, who would not leave with Matti until I saw what she was doing. She was signing.
“What is she saying?” I asked Matti, looking up at his uncle to read the impatience in his twitching chin.
“She says she’s sorry you are treated like this. Now we have to go.”
Matti turned around and tugged Johanna behind him. I swiped my data pad and began searching for a video translator for English to sign language. I watched carefully and mimicked a few times.
