Chapter Eleven

Naked, Clarissa rolled off Aaron. For a quiet moment, they lay side-by-side on her bed, dressed only in a thin coat of sweat.

Still catching his breath, Aaron had to ask, “Was that better than a chocolate swirl orgasm?”

Not amused, she responded, “The real thing is always better than some bogus brainfart sent through the airwaves.” With the impulsive lovemaking done, she kept a space between them on the bed and emphasized it. “No matter what you’re thinking, this doesn’t mean we’re boyfriend-girlfriend or in some kind of romantic relationship. It was a physical interlude.”

“Like your daily run?”

“Something like that.”

Aaron wasn’t sure if his feelings were hurt. It had happened very quickly, and he had welcomed it. They were in her apartment packing her things for the move to Santa Barbara. They got into a playful tussle over her CD collection. She wanted to toss them all out. Her CD player was broken and new ones were no longer being manufactured since everyone mentally streamed music these days. She was throwing away The Beatles and he rescued them from the trash, declaring, “Hey, I like The Beatles.” She became physical in her determination to grab the discs back and return them to the garbage. Somehow their tangled bodies joined in a kiss.

He hadn’t expected them to hook up like this, so he just felt confused when she immediately made it clear that the burst of intimacy meant nothing.

As he remained on his back, looking around the room, he ended the awkward silence with a random comment.

“Are you taking your posters?”

The walls were covered in travel posters displaying grand settings in cities around the world – Paris, London, Singapore, Barcelona. Previously she had told him about her youthful ambitions to be a travel blogger and see the world. She studied journalism but wound up bartending in L.A. and even doing debt collection on the side.

He had found the latter surprising, and she told him, “I can be very disarming.”

“I don’t need the posters,” she said. “I’ve looked at them long enough that they’re burned into my mind. Even if I never see those places, I have those images committed to memory.”

In recent years, traveling abroad had become extremely expensive – a casualty of people preferring to travel in their minds. Fewer flights hurt the economies of scale in the airline industry, and flying became a luxury of the rich. Common folks went on trips in their heads, no passport required.

Aaron turned to look at Clarissa as she remained at his side, looking up at the ceiling. She was beautiful in that moment; long, dark hair tumbling freely, bare, angular shoulders, thin lips, alert eyes. He wanted to reach out and touch her.

But he held back.

Then she slipped away from him and sat up on the bed. She sighed. “Let’s finish this packing.”

She pulled on gym shorts and a faded pink T-shirt, going braless. She offered a final acknowledgment of their episode of lust. “That’s the last fuck for this bed.”

Aaron didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. He pulled his clothes back on.

“There’s really not that much left,” said Clarissa. “My idiot brother stole anything of value to pay for his addiction. My idiot boyfriend took everything we jointly owned, basically to be an asshole.”

Aaron pointed to her balcony. “Your bike?”

“My car has a bike rack. The bike is coming with.”

At that moment, there was a tapping at her apartment door.

Aaron and Clarissa froze.

Aaron whispered, “Are you expecting anyone?”

Clarissa shook her head. She gestured for him to keep quiet.

Aaron watched Clarissa step silently in bare feet toward the door.

She looked through the peephole.

She gave a puzzled frown. She stepped back slowly and rejoined Aaron.

“Some little guy with a tablet.”

“Don’t answer it.”

“I’m not.”

The man tapped several more times, then left. But not before slipping a piece of paper under the door.

Aaron and Clarissa exchanged glances.

She slowly stepped back to the door and gazed through the peephole.

“He’s gone,” she said. She bent down and picked up the sheet of paper. She brought it over to Aaron, and they looked at it together. It read:

Be counted!

Be compliant!

Receive your rightful services!

The United States Citizenship Agency is updating its records in partnership with Dynamica Incorporated in our mission to extend the chip technology, FREE OF CHARGE, as an American Benefit for every man, woman and child. DON’T BE LEFT OUT. CONTACT US TODAY….

Clarissa abruptly crumpled the flyer into a ball and tossed it across the room.

“Not going to happen,” she said.

“They want to make it as common as paying taxes.”

“I’ll give the government money,” Clarissa said, “but I won’t give them my soul.”

She moved over to her balcony and cautiously looked through the glass doors.

“He’s probably going door-to-door to bug all the people who don’t have the chip. Let’s stay inside until he’s on another block. Then we’ll pack the car quickly, go to your place, grab your stuff, and get the hell out of L.A. They’ll no longer have a record of where to find us.”

Aaron joined her at the balcony doors. After a few minutes, they saw the small man on the sidewalk, heading to another residence on the street. He had a short build, slicked-back hair and business-like attire.

“Should we try one more time for your brother?” Aaron asked.

“What do you mean?”

“To bring him with us. Out of L.A.”

“No,” she said firmly.

“No?”

“Don’t question me,” she said in an abrupt, tense tone. “You tried once. I’ve tried for months – I’ve probably been there fifty times. He’s lost. We can’t save someone who refuses to be saved. It tears me up inside but forget it, he’s done.” Then she moved away from the balcony, brushing past him, and said, “Let’s finish packing.”

* * *

Aaron and Clarissa entered the rental house and quickly packed Aaron’s belongings into boxes and bags: his clothes, food, toiletries and books. The three roommates were curled up and zoned out in their favorite nests in separate rooms.

“It smells horrible in here,” Clarissa said, wrinkling her nose.

“Welcome to my world,” Aaron muttered.

“It’s like the tent city with a roof.”

Aaron didn’t intend to notify his roommates he was leaving. He had no interest in even writing a short note. He figured it would take them days or weeks to realize he was gone.

That was the departure he wanted.

But then Larry unexpectedly showed up in the upstairs hallway, walking upright in staggered, numb steps toward the bathroom, apparently pulled from a chipfeed adventure by a bathroom break alert.

As his eyes adjusted to the real world, he noticed Clarissa coming out of Aaron’s bedroom, carrying a cardboard box. “Who are you?” he said. Then he noticed Aaron following behind her, also carrying a box. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving,” Aaron said simply. Aaron and Clarissa moved past Larry and continued on their way downstairs.

Larry thought about the statement for a long moment and then said, “Wait, no, you can’t do that.”

Aaron ignored him. He headed for the front door.

“But you pay for rent and stuff!” Larry called out after him.

Aaron and Clarissa loaded the boxes into Clarissa’s car, a Dodge Charger, which was parked at the curb. Then they returned inside the house for another armload. They discovered Larry rousing the other roommates from their mental retreats, exclaiming, “He’s leaving! Aaron is moving out!”

Desmond sat up on the couch and pulled off the collar that hacked into Dynamica’s chipfeed services. It took him a moment to find words. His mouth was dry and his brain was foggy.

“Moving out what where,” he said.

In the kitchen, Aaron and Clarissa stuffed paper sacks with food: canned vegetables and tuna, fruit, peanut butter, cereal, soup and noodle mixes.

When they reentered the living room, they discovered Desmond crying on the floor.

“You can’t go!” he shouted like a child.

“What the hell?” said Clarissa.

“I can’t survive on my royalty checks. We need a fourth roommate. I don’t want to get evicted.” He was delirious with desperation. Aaron had never seen him slip into hysteria like this before. He was acting like a cartoon.

“Get a job,” Clarissa said in a hard tone.

“I don’t know how anymore!” Desmond howled.

Aaron put down his sack of groceries. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his lawn maintenance truck. He threw them at Desmond. They bounced off his chest and landed on the floor. “Take the truck. Maybe you can sell it. Take all the lawn equipment. I don’t know if you’ll find a buyer, but if you do, maybe you can pay one more month’s rent.”

Desmond picked up the keys from the floor, eyes wide. “Really?”

At that moment, Scotty came barreling down the stairs. He moved so quickly he nearly lost his footing and had to grab the banister for balance.

“What the hell, man, you can’t leave!” he bellowed.

“You didn’t like me when I was here, now you don’t want me to leave?” Aaron said. Then he stiffened, realizing Scotty was rushing straight at him.

Scotty grabbed Aaron by the shirt with a fat fist and screamed in his face, “You’re not going anywhere!”

Clarissa dropped her sack of food, spilling its contents to the floor. She delivered a punch to Scotty’s ribs and a pointy-boot kick to his shin. He yelled, “Ow!” and loosened his grip. She planted her hands into his big, soft belly and shoved him away. He stumbled and then unwisely lurched back toward her. She was ready and socked him with a small but hard fist to the face.

Scotty put a hand to his stinging red cheek, glared at Aaron and exclaimed, “I’m telling on you!”

“Go ahead,” Aaron said. “Whatever that means.”

Scotty said, “They’re looking for you. You’re going to get the chip. You’re illegal now. They know about it.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Clarissa asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Scotty. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “I’m turning you in.”

Aaron exchanged a glance with Clarissa. He immediately recalled the little man going door-to-door to sign up unchipped citizens for the government tracker.

Clarissa stared at Aaron. “Do you think this is part of…?”

Scotty dialed a number on his cell phone.

“What are you doing?” Aaron asked.

Scotty held up a hand intended to silence him.

“I said what are you doing?”

Scotty began speaking into the phone. “Yes. I would like to report a resister. He’s a runner. His name is Aaron Holt—”

Clarissa grabbed a can of peas from the floor. She lunged at Scotty and smashed it against the side of his head, causing him to drop the phone. He spun away and she hit him again with the dented can, striking him in the back. He shouted at the other two roommates, “Don’t let him get away. There’s a reward!”

Larry tackled Clarissa from behind. Aaron immediately grabbed him and pulled him off, delivering a hard punch to his jaw. Desmond half-heartedly entered the brawl, slipped on some grapes and fell down. Scotty came at Clarissa again, letting out a dramatic roar as if he was participating in some bombastic video game. She stopped him cold with an efficiently placed kick and punch, while Aaron delivered additional body blows to Larry to keep him at a distance.

With the three roommates punched, kicked and pushed back, sufficiently cleared as obstacles, Aaron exclaimed, “Let’s go!”

Aaron and Clarissa left the food scattered on the floor and hurried from the house. Clarissa slid into the driver’s seat of her Dodge Charger and began accelerating before Aaron had finished closing the door on the passenger side.

The three roommates did not chase them out on the lawn, but remained crowded in the open doorway, peering outside with anxious expressions, as if the world beyond their little house was a frightening and unfamiliar alien landscape.

Clarissa sped down the street, engine roaring.

Aaron asked, “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay, that was like beating up sleepwalkers,” she said sharply. “You lived with that?”

“Not anymore, I’m done.”

“I wish we had that food.”

“We’ll be okay.”

She raced down mostly empty streets. “I guess you’re officially a ‘resister’ now.”

“So are you.”

“Sounds like fun.” Then she smiled. She didn’t do that often, which was unfortunate, because she had a beautiful, killer smile.