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May 14, 2241
The next morning, the world outside my house was way too quiet. Even the birds knew not to breathe. No sound came through the off-white walls. Only a random red or blue light peeked in the windows.
Mom languished on the couch, one hand over her head like the fainting actresses in those old movies the whole family used to watch together. She still wore the bloody apron with Dad’s life force clinging to it in clumps. She hadn’t moved much at all since dragging herself from the dining room. One foot dangled from underneath Nana’s patchwork quilt.
Shock still had a firm grip on me as I sat on the floor at the foot of the couch, rocking Brooks in my lap and resting a hand on Mom’s leg. If she moved at all, a sensation I’d been desperately hoping to feel run across my fingers, I’d be the first to know. Three fingers on my other hand, of their own volition, tapped out a simple melody on the floor beneath me. One, two, three, four. Over and over I drummed out the opening chords to “Somewhere Only We Know.” Dad had taught it to me when I was barely Brooks’s age in hopes that I’d love the piano as much as he did. It worked. The rise and fall of repeating chords lulled me into a trance as I sat, ready for the next crazy thing. It was coming. That much I knew.
Brooks twisted a chubby little hand through a dingy brown ringlet that still hung over my shoulders, unwashed and unbrushed. Normally, I’d never let him touch such disgusting things, but that sort of worry didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Mom moaned and whimpered above us, still weak from her chip meld with Dad on his death floor in that room. Every thought that flew through my mind always found its way back to that room.
Their agony held me hostage; the scent of my dad’s charred flesh and that horrible thwump of his skull on the table. I shook my head hard and flipped the switch on my holopad to distract Brooks with some TV time. Unfortunately, for the past three hours President Sturn’s speech played on a constant loop in our heads and on every channel. Even the cartoon ones. It was so much worse than the pop-up ads. There was no escape. So Brooks and I watched the speech, on repeat, until we could recite it ourselves.
“My fellow Continentals.
“First, I’d like to take this opportunity to express my deepest condolences to all our families who have been affected by this tragic event. Rest assured that my staff and I are investigating this incident with the utmost urgency. At this time, it is unclear how many citizens in how many territories experienced this malfunction. My staff and I are doing, and will continue to do, everything in our power to get to the bottom of this.
“From what we’ve ascertained so far, there was a hardware malfunction during a routine maintenance patch. If you refer to your patch schedules on the Citizen Server page, you will see that Patch 143 included a scrubber and GPS sync. This is all standard code. Preliminary reports indicate that the EC421, an older and less reliable model chip, was the hardest hit.
“I urge all of you who are receiving this message to please visit your nearest Emergency Operations Shelter now and have your chips removed. Whether it’s the EC41 we’ve identified, or any other model, please err on the side of caution and remove all remaining microchips. We are in no position at this point to guarantee the safety of any chip. There is no way to know if this issue is contained to the EC421, or if all processor models will be affected. We are also mobilizing Chip Removal units at this time. They will be stationed throughout the country to assist in these mass extraction efforts.
“Now, to those of you who removed your chips as requested with the passage of Article 27 back in ‘36, I’d like to personally thank you for your prompt dedication to National Safety. I can assure you that, with no chip, you are in no danger from this faulty patch. Your quick adherence to the previous safety measure no doubt saved your life, and the lives of those you love.
“Again, to all of you who are receiving this message, were dealing with preliminary data here. We will update you on this matter as quickly as we have more information. My staff is reaching out to the Continental Consulates in our Sister Nations to determine the full scope of the situation. Please give us time to investigate this matter.
“Most importantly, I want to stress the fact that we don’t know the root cause of the malfunction at this time. Patches have always been safe. So I urge you to refrain from jumping to conclusions that may cause harm to yourself or your fellow man. We should all be in this together — united in the common goal of recovery. For the time being, please don’t request emergency aid unless you’re in imminent danger Our systems will be taxed while we do our best to serve every Citizen properly. Let’s work together to recover from this horrible tragedy as one.
“Take care Continentals.”
“Turn it off,” Mom said with a wave of her limp hand. She tried to sit up but couldn’t summon the strength. Brooks offered her the water in his sippy cup. Mom smiled as best she could and patted his brown mop of curls. Her hand brushed past the boy’s right ear. A shadow fell across her solemn face.
I knew instantly what bothered her. There was no need to transmit that thought. EC421. That’s the chip Dad had — and Brooks still had.
“Maybe since...” but I stopped. Since what? Since he didn’t die already? Since he had a recycled chip? What could I possibly say to comfort my mom at a time like this? Brooks was undocumented. Chip Removal Units would do more harm than good.
Instead, I tugged Brooks by the hand and patted my lap, beckoning him like a puppy. “Come on, Bit. Mommy needs her nite nite.” The boy shrieked at his nickname, which always meant playtime. I couldn’t help but wonder at hearing the innocence in my baby brother’s laughter, if this was our last chance at a tiny scrap happiness. What new quiet world waited for us, at just thirteen and four, when we dared open the front door again?
###
AS NIGHT FELL AND MY mom gained enough strength to move, it was time to address the elephant in the room; the one shaped like my dad’s corpse. I dreaded the walk to the dining room, where I vowed never to step foot again after this. The sight of him on the floor, covered in black blood and pink stained lace doilies, was disturbing to say the least.
More disturbing was the distinct odor of charred meat. My brain knew it was my dad, but my stomach didn’t. Yesterday’s breakfast was long gone. The hard way. My cheeks burned as guilty rumbles of hungry recognition bubbled through my abdomen. I shut my swollen eyes tight to push the image of medium rare meat out of my mind.
Dad was still where I had left him, which might seem like the most obvious thing. But in this strange new world I half expected him to have moved. Abnormal became the norm. Sometime during the night one of the news stations mentioned the possibility of malfunctioning chips turning people into zombies. That was a bit much even after everything I’d seen. But Howie was a sucker for that talk.
Howie!
I stopped at the doorway, inches from the creeping pool of my dad. //Howie. Howie are you there? Please tell me you’re OK.// I transmitted the plea to Howie as I braced myself against the wall.
No answer.
My gaze met Mom’s red-ringed eyes and I said, “I don’t think we can do this by ourselves.”
“You’re right.” Mom could barely stand on her own much less drag eighty percent of a dead body. “I’ll try to find help.” She nodded her head toward the sirens now blaring all around outside. Were they coming or going? Maybe both. The noise grated on my ears after the silence of the night before.
Mom edged her way out the front door, clinging to the wall the whole time. This was going to take forever. I looked back at Dad’s body and sighed.
Brooks tugged at my dress. “Daddy!” He darted past me before I could think. Trailing his blankie behind him, Brooks bent over Dad’s body. With one tiny finger he touched the blob where Dad’s chip had been. “Daddy’s owie.”
“No!” My wits restored, I snatched him away. “Daddy’s nite nite Bit,” I lied, turning to shield his baby face. I grabbed his goopy finger and wiped it across my dress, carrying him toward the hallway. Brooks wriggled and went limp, arms up in the air.
“If I let you down, you have to leave Daddy alone. Go watch cartoons.” I allowed him to win the struggle to get down and patted his bottom, scooching him toward the family room.
“I can’t. That man’s still on the TV.” Brooks pouted. Still, he left and I was alone again with the first person I’d watch glitch.
“Daddy’s owie,” I repeated under my breath.
Sliding double doors separated the dining room from the rest of the house. The air was already stagnant enough and closing the doors made it harder to breathe, but I couldn’t risk Brooks barging in again. I pulled the tablecloth from the dining room table and I balled it up. Then I just stared at it.
Something banged on the window and I jumped. Opening eyes I didn’t know I’d shut, I could see Mom leaning against the big window in the front of the house. The blinding sun behind her seemed out of place, as if the world should now be shrouded in the same darkness that I felt. Her lips moved but I couldn't make out the words. She hit the window again with a bloody hand and pointed to the front door.
I ran around the kitchen island to keep Brooks from seeing me. When I reached the front door, Mom was nearly on her knees, clutching the doorknob. “Inside,” she panted as I tried to pull her into the house. We struggled for a minute but it was clearly a waste of time. I couldn’t drag a grown up.
Mom flopped to the ground and motioned behind her back where something blue poked out. “The garden tarp,” she said between shallow breaths. “Put it over Daddy. That’s the best we can do for now. There’s no help coming.”
Leaving my mom to regain her strength outside, I traced my same hidden path back around the island and through the kitchen. The garden tarp we’d used to cover Mom’s roses during overnight freezes dragged behind me like a giant blankie. Dad’s blankie now.
When I reached his body, still somehow exactly where he’d fallen, I felt that I should at least say something, give him a proper burial. I dug in his pocket and removed his stone, then slid it into the pocket of my dress. It clanked to rest beside my own.
As I stared at my dad’s corpse, the only words that came to mind were those of an old bedtime prayer Grandma always made him say when he was a kid. It was something passed down through generations, from before. With the tarp soaking in his goo, I tucked my dad in.
“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
And if I die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
###
MOM STAYED ON THE FRONT porch long past sunset, unable to move the few inches it would take to come back in the house. I wished she’d hurry up, but would never say so. Sirens rang out all over the place now and it was so loud that even President Sturn couldn’t talk over them. Not that it mattered. It was still the same old speech.
I didn’t have the heart to close the door and leave her out there alone, but the noise from the sirens was upsetting Brooks and — if I was being honest — me. How could they be everywhere and not help us?
“It’s alright, baby. Just close it. I’ll be fine. Maybe take a little nap out here.” The edges of her cracked lips turned up in a smile that resembled a marionette tugging a string.
I stalled, stuck between slamming the door against the clamor outside and leaving it open in a much-needed show of solidarity. From the way she looked, distant dull eyes and dried white ooze lines down her neck, I was so scared she’d be dead, too, the next time I opened it.
Suddenly, Brooks appeared in the doorway with one hand shielding his ear from the sirens and the other full of supplies. He dropped a small pillow beside Mom’s blood-soaked head and shoved a banana in her face. I ran to help, picking up the old sheet that trailed behind him and laying it over her body. Her eyes kept closing.
“Want a nana?” Brooks asked, tapping Mom on the shoulder with the offered fruit. “Nana?”
“Here, Bit, let’s make Mommy some lunch.” I led him to the side of the porch and away from Mom’s rattling snore. We piled the banana, cheese slices, and other random contents of the bottom refrigerator drawer — everything he could reach — close to Mom. “She’ll be very hungry when she wakes up. You did good.”
I patted Brooks on top of the head with my cleanish hand and ushered him back inside, taking the long way around Mom’s sleeping body so he couldn’t see the blood and gore still congealed in her hair.
Brooks struggled against my grip, “Tangie.” His bottom lip quivered.
I had forgotten all about Tangie. “He’s fine, Bit. Cat’s don’t have chips.”
//Howie. Where are you? Please be OK.// I tried another chip-to-chip. Anticipation and crippling fear stole my breath. What if he never answers?