Chrono Inquisitor (Gods Be Damned) (32 page)

I felt we needed people like my father. The true elders. Prolonged life and the promise of eventual immortality had only made people extend their adolescent attitudes and behaviors. There was no reason for people to
grow-
up. The fact that people could choose which age they wanted to look, was the closest thing there was to an indicator of a person’s maturity level, though that could even be deceiving. It was a common practice when applying for jobs to age accelerate to give the appearance of maturity, but once a contract had been signed, and employment was secured for at least a year, the new hire would spend their sign on bonus to regress again to a more realistic indication of their maturity.

Without the true elders, that meant the world was left in the hands of my generation.

We were doomed.

I wasn’t sure if anyone else was seeing it, but I was. Just because people were living longer, didn’t mean they were getting any wiser. If anything they were getting more stupid, especially with CerAs being around. Schooling was essentially gone, which was both good and bad. There was no reason to spend so much time learning when you could just upgrade your CerA and have them tell you whatever you needed to know. This allowed more people to turn to the arts, which was good at first. A CerA could instruct you in an artistic endeavor, but it couldn’t paint the picture for you. This was cool at first, until the market got saturated by everyone trying to prove they had something unique to offer. Which they didn’t. There’s only so many variations on a theme, so many colors, so many ways something can be done before it ends up right back where it started.

So there I was, my marriage over and my dad committing slow suicide. The thought crossed my mind that I should join him.

“Sam left me dad,” I said as soon as I sat down at the table in my father’s apartment.

My dad was hunched over, blowing on his cup of tea. He didn’t look up at me or give any indication that he’d heard or even understood what I’d said.

After a minute of sitting there staring at him as he continued to cradle the cup in his hands, blowing, I said, “Did you hear me? Sam left me a week ago.”

“So why are you telling me?” he said, not looking up at me.

“Damn it, dad. I’m trying to tell you what’s going on in my life. I came here for advice.”

“You want my advice?” he said, continuing to blow. I was beginning to find it annoying.

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Do you really want her back?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess? This isn’t a guessing game. You either do, or you don’t.”

“Yes, I want her to come home.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Without hesitation I said, “Yes.”

“Don’t be so hasty with a declaration you haven’t fully thought through. Do you want her back because you love her and you don’t want to spend another day without her?”

“Yes.”

“Stop answering so damn quickly. Mull it over for a bit while you really reflect on what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Then why the hell are you here wasting time? You should be doing everything in your power to get what you really want? Stop wasting time talking to your old man about things that are apparent. Go make amends for whatever you did.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know what I did wrong, and if I don’t know, any apology I make will be insincere and she’ll know it. I’d be worse off than where I was to begin with.”

“You have no idea why she left? Did you come home and she was already gone, having left a note that simply said, ‘I’ve left you just because I could. Sorry.’”

“Well, no. We got into an argument and she left.”

“Did she threaten to leave?”

“Maybe, I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?” he asked, head tilted to the side. He shook it back and forth. Just a little wobbling at first, but then it kept getting more emphatic.

“What’s the point having those computers in your brain if they don’t do what they’re supposed to? Don’t you have accurate recall thanks to whatever that contraptions name is?”

Dad had gone along with the baptisms, but had refused the mytes. He didn’t have Mnemosyne, which meant no Arkhive. And he was one of the very few people who didn’t have a Chrono even though it had just become mandatory. He’d opted out of all benefits. Any medical treatment he needed from then on out would be out-of-pocket.

“All right,” I said, and threw my hands in the air. “Yes, I remember. She told me she was going to leave if I went into the bedroom. I did. She left.”

“I doubt she left just because you went into the bedroom.”

“This is why I don’t talk with you, dad, you’re a pain in the ass.”

“I’m not the one who came to you asking for advice. You’re free to leave if you don’t like what I have to say.”

I seriously contemplated doing so. Sometimes my dad was just as bad as Sam. At times it felt like she was more his daughter than I was his actual son. On the plus side, if I could manage to deal with my dad, hopefully I would glean something useful enough to help me get Sam back. I decided to stay.

“I take it by the fact your ass is still in that chair, son, that you’ve decided to see reason, and that you’re ready to cooperate?” He took a sip of tea.

I shrugged, put my hands behind my head, and leaned back in the chair so the front legs were off the ground.

“Tell me what happened, and start before you raised your voices at each other.”

After a little more prodding, I finally told my dad what had happened over the last few weeks leading up to Sam’s departure.

“How the hell are you an Inquisitor when you can’t even deduce why your own wife left you?”

I shrugged. “I guess I’m just too close to the case, you know, like if it had teeth it’d bite my ass.”

“Let me give you this little piece of advice, do what Sam’s wanted you to do for years now, quit. If you want her back, and love her as much as you say you do, put her first, and not your job. It’s as simple as that.”

“I can’t just quit.”

“Why not?

“What would I do?”

“Doesn’t matter. You didn’t come here to ask for career options. Listen to me, Enki. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. I let your mom walk away and I’ve regretted it every day since. I let my pride rule my emotions. I never apologized, and we never reconciled, even though there were plenty of opportunities. I simply kept telling myself that it didn’t matter, it was too late. But I never even tried.”

Bringing up my mother was a sore spot for both of us. I’d never reconciled with her either. I still blamed her for leaving.

“She left us dad. Even after everything you did for her. You need to stop beating yourself up over what happened. You had nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t your fault, what happened to Michael.”

It was mine.

And I had no desire to tread down that particular synapse path, but unfortunately, I’d brought it up.

“You think I don’t know that?” my dad said, hurt and offended. “What happened to
Mikey was a tragedy, and though it played its part in what happened to me and your mother, it wasn’t the reason she left. What
is
my fault though, is that I let her go without any resistance. If you truly want Sam back, quit your job, apologize for not doing it sooner, and for god’s sake, tell her you love her, and be on your knees when you do it.”

When I’d decided to visit my dad, I foolishly hadn’t expected to drudge up the past. Unresolved issues stirred the emotion pot, bringing my anger to an instant boil.

I stood, and in doing so knocked over my chair. “I’m not going to quit my job, and then beg Sam on my hands and knees. She’s the one who left. Let her come crawling back.”

My father gulped down the last of his tea and got to his feet. “You wanted my advice and I gave it to you, boy.”

“Yeah, thanks for nothing.”

“Why don’t you just go. Come back when you’ve grown up.”

I wanted to say something, to have the last word, but anger doesn’t always allow you to think straight, so I was stupefied. I threw up my hands in frustration at my loss of words, turned and left.

The following day I got a call from the transition home. I thought it was my dad calling to apologize for how things had turned out. He’d become such a sap in his old age. Turned out he’d died in the night. Went to sleep and never woke up.

A week later at the funeral, I was still angry about how we’d left things. So when Sam showed up, rather than making amends and following what was essentially my dad’s last wish, I misplaced my emotions and blamed Sam for the whole ordeal. My illogical train of thought went like this. If she hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have gone to my dad for advice, we wouldn’t have gotten into an argument, and concluding the unknowable and illogical speculation, my dad would still be alive.

The funeral ended with Sam and I getting into another argument, her calling me an asshole and walking away. A week after that I received divorce papers. Having nothing to contest, the two of us became separate legal entities in less than a month. Up until earlier tonight at the banquet hall, I hadn’t seen Sam since the funeral. We never saw each other during the divorce. It was all handled through lawyers.

I rubbed my cheek, returning from my undesired jaunt down memory lane. I reached out, grabbed Sam by the upper arms, and kissed her.

She brought her arms up, easily broke my hold, and pushed me away. Then she slapped me again.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she said.

I didn’t see any signs of affection on her face. Only anger.

“Just seeing if there was any residual affection for me left within you. Now I know.”

“I’m going to help you,
Enki, as much as I can, just so you can get the hell out of here as soon as possible.”

“Well
ain’t that nice of ya.”

A moment of silence suggested Sam was conversing with either Buddha, her CerA, or someone else.

My nightmares were confirmed when Sam said, “Lillian is on her way to meet you.”

“Did you forget she tried to kill me a short while ago?”

“She also saved your ass. I’ve instructed her to play nice. I suggest you do the same.”

“You know she’s got a grudge against me. What makes you think she’ll follow orders?”

“I’ll keep her on a leash, so long as you don’t do something stupid. Again, I want you gone as soon as possible.”

“You know, even on a leash, a dog can still bite. Especially when you’re walking alongside it. Really you should muzzle her, or even better, just put the bitch down.”

“If anyone’s being put down, it’s you.”

“Thanks. Before the warden comes to take me to the gallows, I meant to meet up with you to discuss Shepard Cook.”

“What about him?”

“Did your hound tell you he’s gone AWOL and now all of Texas is looking for him? He’s now our number one suspect.”

“She did. What of it?”

“Do you think Cook is the one responsible for taking down your security network?”

She paused. Looked to be contemplating the question, then said, “No. Cook is good at what he does, but he’s not that good.”

“Could it be your pride is getting in the way of that assessment?”

“Anything’s possible, but I don’t think it applies in this case.”

“Then do you think he’s capable of killing Beit?”

“Capable? Yes. He was a Trishula, so obviously he’s capable. But honestly? No, I really don’t believe he’d kill Julius. They were friends for a very long time and even with what happened, it wouldn’t have caused Cook to kill Julius.”

“Then do you know of anyone who would want Beit dead?”

A knock sounded at the door and Lillian entered. She didn’t look happy to see me.

The feeling was mutual.

Sam turned so she was looking at Lillian and me. “We all know Shepard isn’t behind this, and so while the Horsemen and Rangers are busy chasing their tails, we’re taking over this investigation. I’m granting
Inquisitor Yan
our full cooperation.” She’d said my title rather than my name, and she’d said it with some hostility. “I want you to take him to Brandin.”

I knew Sam, and there was a certain look she’d given Lillian during that little speech. I didn’t know exactly what it meant, but I knew there was a secret message in it. A message that only Lillian would know.

Brandin. That’s who I was supposed to see. But why? Was the look about him? I’d have to keep my eyes on the lookout when I met him.

For the moment though, I was still with Sam. “You didn’t answer my question,” I said.

“No, I didn’t.”

Lillian stepped towards me. I took a step away from her. We did a little same polarity dance until I realized she was positioning herself
between myself and Sam, and I unknowningly was going along with it. I was also being maneuvered out the door. Lillian was good.

Accepting that I’d been out maneuvered, I bowed to Sam. This time I was the one who walked out the door.