CHAPTER 20
~T-minus 50:30~
Will Scarborough had a few fine qualities - energy, enthusiasm, honesty - but punctuality had never been one of them, not even before the impending end of all things made motivation something of a challenge. Even so, he had seldom been so late for work, late enough that it almost seemed like a waste to even arrive. His duties at the Orientale were just another part of his routine, something to occupy his time while he waited for the next part of his plan. That night, it would be posting the rest of his fliers, whether it was safe or not. With the police stepping up patrols, he'd have to wait until very late to make his move. This alone gave him cause to waste a few hours at an increasingly meaningless occupation that he'd planned on quitting anyway.
The Orientale was packed when Will entered, but almost everyone was in the bar - the only people in the restaurant area were a handful of idle waiters and servers trying to look busy enough that they wouldn't have to work. The crowd was an unusual one as well. There were the usual customers - the older men downing their paychecks one shot at a time and the younger ones pretending to be sophisticates by passing up beer for cocktails - but there were also plenty of out-of-towners, including some Will recognized from the protest and the chaos that had preceded it. These were weary souls, beaten and fried and driven into the woods, now gathered here in search of any cheap comfort they could still claim.
Sadie leaned over the bar as Will entered. "Oh, just three and a half hours late this time, huh?"
"I know," said Will. "I'm not even going to bother with an excuse this time."
"Eh, don't sweat it," said Sadie. "Everyone coming in is opting for the liquid supper, anyway. Want to give me a hand?"
"Sure. What do you need?"
"Just hang out here, if I need something I'll grab you." Sadie glanced at the bag slung over Will's shoulder. "Doing some handiwork before you came here?"
"Huh? Oh, this." Will patted the bag, which replied with a rattle of metal. "Nah, this is for later. You wanna know the truth? This is it for me. I'm getting out of this job tonight. I'm only here to cash out and be on my way."
"Well, the owner isn't here, but I can put the message across. In the meantime..." Sadie pointed at a table of young men who had clearly been there for a while. "...Pick up their glasses for me. I have a feeling there's another round of vodka tonics coming up."
"On it, Sadie." Will strolled over to the table, every bit the man expecting imminent freedom. "Evening, gents. Will you be needing another round?"
One of the men flashed Will a crooked smile. "Hey, I know you. You're the dude, the one from the thing. Will, right?"
"That's right, pal," said Will. "You at the protest or something? I didn't see you."
"Nah, man," said another man, this one clearly struggling to keep his head upright. "But we heard you guys got cooked down there. You get cooked?"
"Yeah, but I'm fine now. Thanks for your thoughts."
The first man pawed at Will. "Hey man, tell us about the shit that happened."
"I'd love to, but I'm working. Maybe later, huh? Let me get these for you." Will collected their glasses and returned to Sadie. "What's the deal, Sadie? You're not cutting these people off?"
"Two hours ago we were, but they refuse to leave," said Sadie. "Now the cops are stopping people the second they step outside, field testing on the spot. I guess one upside to living in a police state is that you can really crack down on drunk driving."
Will rapped on the bar. "Yeah, well I walked, so how about a shot? You can take it out of my check."
"Get it yourself. I'm busy." Sadie tipped her head to the door. "...And so are you. Looks like we got a customer, and this one isn't half in the bag for a change."
Will grabbed a menu and was halfway to the door before he identified the man standing there - a diminutive man, dark-haired and pallid, unfamiliar without his emerald blazer. "...What the hell are you doing here, Aaron?"
"What does a person normally do at a restaurant?" said Aaron. "I'd like a table for one. You can manage that, right? You don't need any encouragement?"
A lengthy collection of obscenities swam through Will's mind, but he forced them back down. "All right. Let me show you to your table." He led Aaron through the crowded bar area, words leaking out through gritted teeth. "Would you like to start with an appetizer?"
"No thanks, bring me a medium rare rib eye and some fries," said Aaron with a smirk. "It's been a long day, I could really use something hearty."
"I'm surprised you didn't want that well done," muttered Will.
"Oh, what was that?" Aaron cupped a hand to his ear. "I didn't quite catch that witty little remark."
"Just talking to myself, I'll get your order in right away. You want something to drink with that?"
"Tea." Aaron's smile grew wider. "Hot as you can get it."
"Hot tea. Got it."
"That does reminds me of something, though. I've been wondering - what does that Active Denial weapon feel like? I've always been curious - not curious enough to step in front of it, but...curious." Aaron crossed his arms. "I know it's painful, but it is an intense flaming sensation, or more of a simmering, under the skin burn?"
"You son of a bitch." Will halted in his footsteps and spun back to face Aaron, storming over to him with less dignity than he would have liked. "You get off on that, don't you? Hurting people make you feel big?"
"As a matter of fact, it does not," said Aaron. "Pain is the tool of small, primitive minds. I'd just as soon we settle our problems through civil and intelligent discourse, but as long as the idiots have so much power in this country, we're going to have to employ more extreme solutions."
"Civil discourse, huh? You want to have a chat?"
"With you? Don't embarrass yourself."
"You don't want to talk with me? Fine." Will clapped his hands. "Hey, everyone, we have a special guest here! Say hello to Aaron Baines Bellamy, chief of security for Jameson Labs! He thinks we should have more reasoned debate, so what better time than now, huh? Come on, Aaron, don't be shy!"
All eyes immediately turned to Will and Aaron, accompanied by no shortage of drunken grumblings. There were enough people present who knew Aaron's face that the anger and distrust spread quickly. Aaron, for his part, looked annoyed, but he hardly betrayed the kind of nervousness that Will would have expected.
"So this is your game, huh? You think you're being clever, putting me on the spot? Hey, I'm happy to play along." Aaron rushed out of his seat, brushed Will aside and stepped to the bar, the eyes of the patrons tracking him every step of the way. "So you know who I am. How many of you hate me?"
The patrons flooded the room with profane agreements, vibrant descriptions of the depths of their hatred, and suggestions for anatomically unlikely acts. Will would have expected Aaron to back down at this drunken show of animosity, but Aaron actually seemed to revel in it, growing stronger from their hatred.
"Okay, so that's clear. How about Dr. Richter?" More shouts greeted Aaron, these even more bitter. "And the other people who work at the lab, your new neighbors. What about them?" Again, there was agreement. Aaron merely shook his head. "I figured as much. The typical ignorant peasant mentality. The sign of a low intellect and a deficit of gratitude."
"Hey, who are you calling ingrates?" said Will. "We're the ones who've had to put up with you and your bullshit. We're the ones who had our lives turned upside down. We're the ones you lied to. That's all you!"
"No. All. For. You." Aaron climbed onto the bar, kicking aside empty glasses and glowering down at the patrons. "You people have no idea what you have, or what it took to get there. Look at your comfortable little modern lives. You have whatever you want. Hot and cold air at the flick of a switch. Entertainment piped into your dumb heads twenty-four hours a day. Snap your fingers, and they deliver food right to your door. You get so much as an ache, you take a pill and it goes away. Science did all of that. Science made your lives better and brighter than your ancestors could have dreamed, and you're still scared of it."
"Get over yourself," yelled Will. "This ain't about science or progress, it's about what Jameson and the rest of you are doing, putting us all at risk and lying about it. So you think you're heroes? Why didn't you come out and tell us the whole truth?"
"We didn't lie to you," said Aaron. "Jameson publicized everything he had. Whose fault was it if you were too lazy or stupid to grasp it?"
"Oh, kiss my ass," said Will. "We see what you want us to see, remember? You told me that, and it's exactly what Jameson did. But guys like you are always willing to overlook that when there's money to be made."
"Please, you think I give a shit about that Bible-thumper's money? You think I'm impressed by his connections?" Aaron's jaw was tight, his skin turning a light shade of red as the fury rose in his voice. "It's not about what he wants, it's about what Dr. Richter can do. It's about the world he can create, one where the right people are in charge. The ones who respect the power of a superior mind."
"A superior mind, huh?" said Will. "You mean, like Paul Liston?"
"Don't you DARE..." Aaron's face turned a brilliant scarlet for a moment as he recovered his position in his rant. "...Dr. Richter offers you a thousand years of power, a thousand years of mindless comfort and easy pleasure, and you reject it because there's a risk. Well, maybe we should just take it all away. I'd love to see how any of you would do without us. How long would you last if you had to get your own food, huh? If you had to live with illness and treat your own wounds? If you had to endure the cold and the rain and the blistering sun, without a cool beer and a warm television? It would be just what you deserve after pushing us away."
"Pushing us away? That's what it always comes down to with freaks like you." Will wagged his finger at Aaron as as he approached. "You get your head dunked in a toiled one too many times and you never get over it."
There was a flash of panic in Aaron's eyes as Will drew neared and his hand darted to his pocket. For a moment, Will could only see a flash of metal in the dim lights, but that was enough to knock him back a step. There was the source of Aaron's fearlessness - a pocket-sized pistol with a fine chrome finish. Behind him, Will could sense more movement as the patrons fell back from their seats, not sure what was about to happen.
"Kiss MY ass, Scarborough." Aaron held up the gun to the light, admiring the details with a mad grin. "See the power of science? Chemistry, metallurgy, engineering, physics...put them together, and you can bring down an ape twice your size."
Will took a deep breath, bracing himself but drawing no closer. "So that's how it is?"
"That's how it is now. It's how it has to be." Aaron gestured with the gun as he spoke, sending a wave of cringes through the patrons each time he waved it over their heads. "Scientists deal with ‘is,' not ‘ought.' And the way the world is? It's a necessity."
"Geez, Aaron, would you put the piece away? You've made your point."
"That I have." Aaron slid the pistol back into his pocket. "You know, Jameson didn't cover anything up, but I'll tell you, if it was up to me I wouldn't have let you people know anything. I would've covered it up because I would've known how you people would react." Aaron extended his arms over the crowd, gesturing with an almost mad vigor. "If you idiots could only have seen the world that Dr. Richter saw. He saw that this modern world couldn't last, not at the pace that we were going. Oh, it could have lasted forever if people could just learn to be happy with what they have, happy in a life of comfort. But that's never good enough for you greedy, grasping apes, is it? We give you everything you want and it's never enough. Those filthy little fingers of yours are always clawing for more and more. Someone had to do something before you killed the world with your lust and avarice."
"Victory at any price, huh?" Will's boldness returned to him, less courage than the zeal of a man with no future. "So what, it's a race? You see if you can't destroy the world before we can?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Scarborough?" said Aaron. "That's the idea behind this little celebration of yours, that you want it to happen? Yeah, your type would have been happier ten thousand years ago, back when you all you needed to get your way was size. You'd be happy if we went back there. Well, that age is over. YOUR age is over. Mine's just beginning."
Will clapped his hands."Bravo, Mr. Bellamy. That was a fine speech. But you're forgetting something. We're not your children. We're not your subjects, as much as old man Jameson or your boy Richter might think that. You don't get to make decisions on our behalf, and you damn sure don't get to doom every life in this town or anywhere!" His voice rose to a crescendo, booming through the room. "You play around with other people's lives, you tell them. That's the rule. And if you don't tell them, then the responsibility's on you!"
"Bastard." Aaron sneered down at Will. "You think a little bit of pain is the worst thing I can do to you? You've got a lot to lose, fat boy."
"Not as much as you think." Will reached over the bar, poured himself a shot of bourbon, downed it in one gulp and flung the empty glass to the floor. "I quit. Sadie, take the glass out of my last check, all right?"
Will barged out of the front door, Aaron following in tow. "You think you're going to be some kind of hero? You think you can stop the future with your fearmongering? Well, you'd better not try anything, nutjob! We've worked too hard on this, we're not going to let some loser get in the way!" Aaron glared at the police officers, waiting just outside to snare troublemakers. "Aren't you going to do your job?"
Will held out his arms and continued walking. "I'm not drunk, I'm not making a scene, and if you're going to shoot me this time you'll have to shoot me in the back. Otherwise, I'm headed home."
This was a lie, or at least half of one. Police presence or not, Will had no intention of going home until he had a chance to hang fliers, every last one he had in his possession. It was insanity and he'd considered giving up and just heading home, but Aaron's spiel had reignited the fire within him. Even so, the new nightly patrols meant that this otherwise anodyne task required a bit of added finesse. For once in his life, Will had to exercise patience, biding his time for the right opportunity to make his move. He would huddle in a shadowy alley, sometimes for ten or fifteen or twenty minutes, waiting for the patrols to get bored or tired and move on, at which point he would spring into action. As the night wore on, he noticed fewer and fewer officers - dispatched, he assumed, to Amos Street to protect the property of the lab workers. By midnight, the streets were his, and in no time he had blanketed the area in advertising.
The end of this task restored some of Will's natural cheer, and he whistled merrily to himself as he affixed the final flier to a light pole on Icaria. Behind him, a row of neat maroon dots spoke to his diligent work. They were there even if no one saw them, and for the moment that was enough. He drank in the silence of the night as he set course for home.
Then Will spotted something that was decidedly awry - movement, people moving in and out of one of the buildings. It was faint but he could make it out, and it was clearly nothing savory - things seldom were at that hour, especially in places like Patmos. There was nothing to gain from investigating, and yet Will found himself drawn closer, edging ever nearer to what he was increasingly convinced was an crime happening before his eyes. There were at least three men, all dressed in inconspicuous dark clothing, moving in and out of the Gazette building. Some were carrying things out of the building and into a truck, other hauling equipment inside. It would be an ordinary sight were it not happening long after the entire town had gone to sleep.
Instinct took over, pushing Will toward the men without a second thought as to the wisdom in confronting them. "Hey! Get out of there! What do you think you're doing?"
A man standing in the back of the truck glanced over at Will. "Maintenance. We're bringing in requested equipment."
"Past midnight on a weekend? Like hell." Will jabbed his finger at the group. "Who are you with? I want names."
The man sized up Will, his hand smoothly wrapping around something in the truck. "None of your business, friend. Go on home, it's curfew anyway."
"Not until you tell me who the hell you are." Will became aware of at least two men at his flank, surrounding him. "Now. I won't ask again."
The man responded, not with an argument, but with a spanner swung at Will's face. Will ducked away from the attack, landing a blow to the man's abdomen hard enough to drop him to his knees. The other two men sprang into action, diving toward Will with fists cocked. Will swung wildly, knocking one of them back against the wall, but the other shrugged it off and caught Will with a cross. This did little other than irritate Will, who grabbed his assailant and flung him against the truck. Then he felt a blow from behind, some heavy object striking him first in the lower back and then the shoulders, painful enough to put him on the ground.
The men scrambled for the truck, hurling in their gear and then piling in. "Let's go."
"Don't you dare run off!" Will struggled to his feet, but the truck was halfway down the street. He ran after the vehicle for half a block, but the limitations of his body soon overwhelmed him, leaving him struggling for each breath. The burglars had vanished into the night, leaving only their half-finished job.
Will dragged himself back to the scene of the crime. The door to the Gazette building hung halfway open, left unlocked and open by the fleeing burglars. Keeping a cautious eye for police, Will crept up on the building and peeked inside. There were a few lamps still on inside, casting enough light to make out the interior of the office. At first glance, it appeared normal - the office was in disarray, but Will was familiar enough with the Gazette to know that this was hardly an unusual state. However, several of the desk drawers were open and the front of one of the computers had been removed, revealing a mostly empty case. There was no finesse here, strictly smash-and-grab - the actions of someone who didn't care if they were caught.
The walk back home was a tense one, Will's thoughts racing with the events of the evening. His mother was more right than she knew - Patmos was changing, growing dangerous, growing ugly. Each day brought a novel horror, and there was no telling what might result with Jameson's arrival. A man waving a gun in a bar, a strongarm robbery at a newspaper - soon, no one would even look twice at such a scene, and after that there would be nothing left to see.