Human (13 page)

"Oh, but you're mistaken, Sammy. You are seeing me. This is all there is."

Takahashi took a long draw from his mug. "You son of a bitch. You really did it."

"My body died days ago. The whole damn thing. Brain and all. But I'm still alive, goddammit. I'm still human."

"This is fucking incredible," Takahashi stammered.

Smith let out a series of ha-has. "Always the poet, eh, Sammy. I've just revealed to you that I have become immortal. That I hold the key to becoming God and all you can say is, 'fucking incredible'. But listen, I want you to organize the press conference announcing my death. We're going to let the obituary writers break the story of the century. Just get some writers who can do better than, 'fucking incredible', okay?"

"Even from the grave you still have to fuck with people."

"Beyond the grave, my ass. I'm as alive as you are."

"Then why the funeral announcement."

"Because I still have to fuck with people. Its just not from beyond the grave. But Sammy, that's all just for fun. I have to discuss something far more serious with you. Myra, would you excuse us please?"

Myra left the room and Smith continued. "I'm going to e-mail you three names. I need to find out who these people are and what they could possibly have to do with me. Dr. Bayron won't let me access the internet. I can only communicate by e-mail, so I can't do this research on my own.  I do not trust everyone on my team right now. I have an anonymous address [email protected]. Make an e-mail address at an anonymous remailer and send me a verification so we'll only communicate about this through the remailer, okay."

"Hhgttg, I still remember that."  Takahashi smiled.

"I know it's a little silly to say, but I don't think all this secrecy is overkill. I genuinely have a sense that I, or people close to me, are in danger. Myra has a briefcase in her car with $100,000 cash as a down payment on your retainer. She is going to set you up with a second SmithCorp expense account. As far as she knows, this is only about the press-conference and the legal issues it may raise. Neither she nor anyone else on my team is to know anything of the names I am asking you to research. Can I count on you?"

"You're an ass for even asking me that."

"When I was flesh and blood, I never had a doubt. Now that I am something else, I wasn't sure you would still regard me as a blood brother. I don't have blood anymore."

"Your blood has run in my veins ever since we cut our palms and shook on it what, fifty years ago?  Don't say you don't have flesh and blood. I'm your flesh and blood."

"Sam, you're still the only person on the planet I trust. So, if you're my flesh and blood lets have another beer and... hey, get me a lapdance."

Sam poured another beer and pulled back the velvet curtain. With the curtain open the music suddenly got much louder in the lapdance room. "Kitty!"  He yelled into the bar, "get over here and give my friend a lap-dance." 

"Wait for the next song!"  Kitty yelled back.

Shortly thereafter, Kitty entered the booth and looked around. Not seeing anyone besides Sam confused her for a moment. She noticed the little camera on the laptop computer and looked at Sam quizzically. Sam nodded. Kitty bent down and looked into the camera. "Hey, gorgeous," she heard the  laptop say.

"Are you really Elijah Smith?" She asked, still looking at the camera.

The computer chirped, "you bet I am, darlin'. Now get over here an give me a little dance."

Kitty began to do a slow, suggestive dance in front of the camera in time to the music. "Do you like that, Mr. Smith?" She asked the computer through pouted lips.

"Oh yeah, I do."  Smith said to Kitty. "Sam, how ‘bout you give us a little privacy? I'm getting a god damn lapdance here. Having you looking on isn't making it any sexier."

Takahashi's face was already red from the alcohol he had consumed that day, but it took on an even redder tone when he realized that he was, in fact, sitting and watching his friend get a lapdance. "Sorry, Elly." He said, "you've just got admit that this isn't the kind of thing you get to see everyday."

"Yeah, yeah," the computer voice said as Takahashi clumsily parted the curtains to leave the booth. "And send Myra in when this song is over, okay?"

A moment later, Sam had left the lapdance room and rejoined Myra in the main lounge. Myra had ordered a diet Coke and seated herself at the bar. She and Sylvia were talking and appeared to be enjoying each other's company.

"What's going on in there?" Myra asked, when she saw Sam coming toward her.

"Uh...guy stuff," Takahashi answered. "You wouldn't understand.

"That laptop is my responsibility."  Myra said to Sam with a slight tone of concern.

"Don't worry," Sam replied, "Kitty's a sweet kid. She's as harmless as she is cute. Let the old man have some fun."

"A stripper with a heart of gold, huh?" Myra said judgmentally.

"She's actually earning money to go back to college," Sylvia said in defense of her friend, "I don't think she's going to be here to much longer, either. She's got higher aspirations."

As soon as Takahashi left the lapdance room, Smith had instructed Kitty to stop dancing and engaged her in a conversation.  In just a few minutes he had learned everything about her that he needed to know: deceased parents, foster homes, lived on the streets, trying to go to college.

She would do just fine, he thought. "Remember this song," he told her with a note of urgency, "this will be our song."

"Why?" Kitty asked.

"Because it's nice for friends to have a song together." Smith answered. "Promise?"

"I promise," Kitty replied holding up three fingers as a sign of her veracity. She didn't press him for any further explanation, but she understood clearly that there was more to his request than what he said.

The song ended and Myra called through the curtain, "Are you done, boss? We should go."

"Yes, we're done," Smith said. "Myra, give my new friend here a couple of hundred bucks for me. I'd do it myself but I don't have hands. Then you can  pack me up."

Myra took two crisp hundred dollar bills out of her purse and handed them to Kitty.

"Kitty," Smith said, "I'm going to be holding a press conference in a few days. I'd like you to be there. Myra, make sure you get her contact information before we go."

"You got it Boss," Myra responded. Myra moved to start shutting down the computer, but Smith stopped her abruptly.

"Wait. Myra, how much more cash do you have on you?"

"Maybe four or five hundred dollars," she replied.

"Give it to Kitty and expense it. Kitty, if you can take the time off from here, I'd like to hire you to babysit Mr. Takahashi for a few days. Take that money and do your best to keep Sammy sober enough to do what I just hired him to do."

"Okay, Boss" Kitty replied mimicking Myra's manner of addressing him.

"Promise?" Smith said.

"Promise, Mr. Smith, I'll watch him like a hawk," Kitty said as she took the money from Myra.

"A Kitty Hawk," Smith chuckled at the pun. "Okay Myra, pack me up."

"Katherine O'Malley," she said. It was the only time she had ever uttered her real name in the Moviestar Topless Bar and Lounge.

Myra pressed a button on the side of the computer and held it for a few seconds. The computer audibly powered down and all of the lights faded and went out. She packed the laptop and all of the accessories into its little case. She gave Kitty a wink and a smile. She knew this was a good day for her. She also knew she had an interesting new friend to play with. After all, she couldn't have a stripper at the press conference actually looking like a stripper now could she? 

Myra left the booth and walked back out into the bar. Takahashi was back at the stage. Myra walked to him and patted him on the shoulder to get his attention. He turned with a start.

"Mr. Takahashi, there's a briefcase in the car that I was instructed to deliver to you. I believe you and Mr. Smith discussed the contents?"

"Yes, thank you Myra," he said standing to follow her out to the car."

"Don't spend it all in one place," Myra chimed whimsically as she took one glance back at the Moviestar Topless. When they reached her car she opened the trunk and handed Takahashi a metal briefcase. They hugged goodbye without speaking. Myra got in her car and drove off. Sam turned and went back into the bar.

When he got into the bar, Kitty met him by the door. "You have some cool friends, counselor." 

"I know, but now I have some work to do."

"So do I," Kitty answered, showing Takahashi the small stack of hundred dollar bills that Myra had just given her. "Your friend just hired me to babysit you and make sure you do everything he asked you to do."

Takahashi smiled. "They just don't make men like that anymore, Kitty. He couldn't have hired me a prettier assistant. Let's see what you can do," he replied. He put two twenties and a ten on the bar.  "Hey, Sylvia!  I left my money on the bar. I have to go."  He shouted toward the kitchen.

"Okay, honey," Sylvia's voice replied.

Sam started to leave the bar.

"I'm off the clock, Sylvia, can you please not schedule me for a little while" she said toward the kitchen door as she followed Sam out of the bar.

Sylvia emerged from the kitchen area, drying a bar mug with a towel. "You take care of yourself, honey," she said, looking Kitty in the eye. "Go set the world on fire. We'll be here if you need us."  Sylvia knew, she didn't know why she knew, but she knew, that she would never see Kitty again. Of all the girls at the Moviestar, Sylvia thought, they managed to pick the one most capable and most deserving of an opportunity. And she also knew that Kitty would not squander it.
             

CHAPTER XI.

Having completed the final surgery, Bayron had no reason to spend his days and nights at the lab staring at his panoply of monitors and reviewing his equations. The spare time did not suit him. He went and got a haircut, his first in months, and he had taken his suits to the cleaners. After that he really didn't have any other way to mark the successful completion of the brain virtualization project. In fact, he looked morose, sad, tired, and terribly, terribly distracted

Hermelinda had been a nurse for many years and had developed an unnatural ability to sense when something was just not right. She knew something was just not right with Dr. Bayron. Smith was all locked up in his computers and she felt it was her obligation to keep him company and to keep him entertained as much as she could. She knew it must be lonely in there with no human contact. During lunch, however, she was on her own, and she used her lunch hours to figure out and tend to Dr. Bayron's needs, whatever they were.

She enjoyed eating and speaking with Dr. Bayron. And even though she justified their lunches as merely ‘being there for him if he ever wanted to talk', she couldn't help feeling that something deep and acutely atavistic was causing her to seek out fathers for her baby: good, strong, reliable men, the kind of man who would provide a comfortable and stable life for his family. Money wasn't a concern for her anymore-- Smith had kept his promise to her in that regard, but she still had the mother's instinct to build a safe nest and a safe nest required a safe man. How could Smith, locked away in his box as he were, ever protect her or the baby?

Dr. Bayron, with his multiple doctorates in psychology,  psychiatry, and neurology would not have been surprised to learn that these instincts were brewing within Hermelinda, but he had other things dominating his thoughts. He knew he was attracted to her, but he had loved before and it nearly killed him. He was no fool to even consider the possibility of falling in love again. Besides, Hermelinda was Smith's girl, and he wouldn't hone in on someone else's action. It just wasn't in his constitution. He figured that because he and Hermelinda had together participated in something that no one else had ever done they were inextricable joined by their unique experience. And with that reasoning he was able to rationalize away his feelings.

             
One of the things that had been dominating his thoughts in the weeks after the final surgery was the memorial service that Smith was planning. Smith had told Bayron of his plan to announce the success of their project at the memorial service and that he intended to have Dr. Bayron make that announcement and field questions from the press. With the memorial service coming up, Bayron found his thoughts becoming less and less clear.

Bayron sat in his office contemplating what he should say in his prepared remarks at the press conference. He had read some articles about speechwriting and public speaking, neither of which came naturally to him. He was searching his mind for a metaphor or an anecdote to frame his speech, but all roads just led to his dead wife and son, their brains long ago consumed by the ground and lost to him forever.

So he decided to focus on what he could be asked about, figuring that he might devote his time to anticipating and answering the questions that the audience might have. "How did you do it?"  would be the easiest of those. "Why did you do it" struck a more disturbing chord. "How does this change the world?" was simply unanswerable. Unfortunately, none of his speculations on that topic had good outcomes.

"Good morning, doc," Smith's simulated voice said, interrupting Bayron's train of thought.

"Morning, Smith, how you doing today?"

"I'm bored out of my, well, I was going to say skull, but whatever, I'm bored. I need to get out of this box."

"Can't do it Smith. Not yet."  Bayron warned.

"What if we made a copy of me and let the copy out into the world?"

"We've discussed this Smith. You would be the world's most effective virus because you can think. You would literally be able to take over the world. I trust you, I love you, but even before we started, you knew that I only agreed to this project if it was to be a closed system. I am very confident that you are Elly Smith, but I don't know if the Elly Smith model is subject to the kind of corruption that Elly Smith the human was immune to. And neither do you. I'm the one who goes to jail if something goes wrong-- not you. I know Elly Smith would never put me at such a risk, but if I let you out and something gets corrupted?  That's on me."

"Okay. How 'bout this?  Put in a kill routine. The minute you get nervous, kill the copy." 

"I don't know, Smith. Let me think about it."

"Hey," Smith added, "I got that Armenian kid back. Sharky. We've been e-mailing back and forth for a few months. He was more nervous about this than you. He's literally spent the last two months doing nothing but contemplating the implications of this whole thing. You should've heard some of his concerns. Real science fiction stuff. That kid's got some imagination, I'll tell you."

Bayron could not match Smith's lightheartedness. "It's not hard to think up some concerns about putting you out on the Internet. What he's thinking is not science fiction at all. It's science. We can not disregard potential outcomes."

"Bring him in on this. I want out. You want me kept in. We both have legitimate interests here. Give Sharky a chance to figure out a way to satisfy both of us. What's the harm in hearing what he might be able to come up with."

"All right, I'll talk to him." Bayron paused for a moment and decided he didn't like the silence. He needed a friend, and it took him a moment to realize that perhaps his closest friend was actually there with him. "Hey, Elly," Bayron said, addressing Smith by his first name, "I'm a little worried about this press conference. I'm not really a press conference kind of guy. What do you think I should say?"

"Glad you asked Bayron. I've been thinking about it a lot. For me, you know, I'm off the human grid now. But you, you still have to interact with the planet. I can laugh and fuck with people, but you're still going to have to face the world. It didn't really occur to me how difficult its going to be for you after this announcement is made."

"So what do you suggest?"

"My advice?  You better say something to appease the bible thumpers. They're the ones that are going to go bonkers over this and the ones that might cause us the most trouble. This whole thing really undermines a whole lot of religions, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it sure does." Bayron said, conceding what to him was already obvious. "Thoughts?

"Do you know a good rabbi?"

Dr. Bayron felt his thoughts begin to close in from this question. It was the wrong question for Smith to ask, but Smith didn't know that. The last time Dr. Bayron had even given God the dignity of a hopeful thought was just before he threw a shovel of dirt over a tiny little coffin. After that, God was his sworn enemy. And now, with the success of his experiment, he believed he had won. He believed he had defeated God. He knew these thoughts could get him killed and he tried to drive them out.

Smith's suggestion had been the opposite of helpful.  It set off thoughts and feelings that Bayron had compartmentalized years ago. It was as if Smith had dropped a match in a fireworks factory. "Elly," he said standing up from his desk. "I've got to go."

"Wait!"  Smith broadcast, "Is Hermelinda here?  I've got to talk to someone or I'll go nuts."

"Alice is here,"  Bayron responded as he reached the office door.

"Good! Send her in," Smith ordered.

As Bayron walked out of his lab, he saw Alice in the staging area. "Alice, go talk to Smith a while," he said, "he's lonely."

"Sure thing, Doctor. You know I can talk!" She replied  happily.

Bayron pushed the elevator button and waited long moments for the elevator to come. He fidgeted as he rode down, knowing that soon he would be thinking about his little son, only five years old, dying in pain, writhing in his arms as he tried in vain to comfort him. He knew soon he would smell the smell of the hospital in his nose. A smell he once felt was so reassuring: the smell that said, "okay, you're in the hospital now, everything's going to be okay."  But when he smelled the smell or even imagined it, it was the smell of betrayal.

Bayron knew that soon he would remember sitting vigil in the hard wooden chair next to the bed; the little boy finally asleep and looking peaceful, and he with no peace, only confusion. He remembered the Rabbi. His father sent the Rabbi. The Rabbi hugged him and said a prayer for his dying son.

"Why?" He asked the Rabbi.

"No one knows. Only God knows, Douglas."

"Why me?" He asked.

"God gives certain challenges to those that can find the holiness in them. It is for you to decide how to create a blessing from this tragedy," said the Rabbi.

"Then God can fuck himself,"  Said Bayron and he never loved God again.

Bayron got off of the elevator, still insisting that he would not let those memories form and he was successful in doing so until he walked out of the front door of the SmithCorp Building into the pouring rain. With the rain to mask his tears, he let himself weep.

"I beat you at your own game," he said to heaven. "I have vanquished death itself. But you're going to have the last laugh yet, aren't you?" He neither expected nor received a response at that moment.

Alice was happy to be off of her feet. Even though there was no real patient in the lab for her to care for, Alice didn't like being idle. Hermelinda was still technically on maternity leave though she came in nearly everyday to talk to Mr. Smith or eat lunch with Dr. Bayron. So Alice was alone most of the time just trying to keep busy. She was happy that she hadn't been reassigned or let go, she needed to keep this job for more reasons than anyone knew. So she kept busy keeping the operating room clean and sanitary. She made sure the medications on the shelves were unexpired and properly arranged, she put fresh sheets on the bed daily and ran diagnostics on all of the lab equipment. All-in-all, she made sure that the room was ready for its next patient in every respect, even if there would never be one. She worked as if her life depended on it.

The invitation into Dr. Bayron's inner lab just to have some chit-chat with Mr. Smith was a welcome break for her. She sat at the console terminal and settled in to the office chair comfortably. She pulled the microphone close to her mouth and said, "How you doing in there, Mr. Smith?"

"Alice!" Smith responded. "It's good to hear your voice, but please, you don't have to shout. I have bionic hearing now, you know."

"Oh, good. Same old Boss! Still funny."

"Alice, I could always count on you for some good gossip, we haven't spoken since I still had a body. Tell me, what's up?"

"Oh, Boss, remember you ask me to find out who the daddy is?"

Smith's digital brain forgot nothing, but, sometimes, the data wasn't always on his mind. He remembered instantaneously. "Did you learn something?" Smith asked with genuine curiosity as to what the rumor mill was churning out.

"Okay, boss, I got two possibilities. Ready?"

"Do tell, dear."

"First, I think, probably, I think, this cute boy. He sound a little like Count Chocula. Russian maybe. I notice, he don't come to work no more since Hermelinda have the baby. Maybe he take paternity leave and is stay-at-home daddy. I know he very smart, one of Dr. Bayron's favorites. Like a, uh, like a ... Chevrolet?  ...Chevrolet?" She repeated the word, knowing that it wasn't the word she was looking for and asking for help.

"Prot
é
g
é
'?"  Smith offered.

"Prot
é
g
é
!  That's the word I want. I knew it some kind of car. Yeah, his prot
é
g
é
!"

"Sarkis Ohangangian. They used to call him Sharky."

"Yes! That one! Sharky!"  Alice said excitedly.

"Don't you think he's a little young for Hermelinda though?" Smith asked.

"They both very serious people, boss. Too serious. Water finds it level, right?  Besides, where else but here Hermelinda gonna find a man?  She was here all the time before the baby."

"Okay, I can see it being Sarkis. Who's the other possibility?"

"Okay, boss, sit down when I tell you this," Alice said conspiratorially.

Smith released a couple of "ha's" and said, "Okay, I'm sitting."

Alice spoke in a hushed, conspiratorial whisper, "You ready. Listen. Now I think, maybe was Dr. Bayron."

"Really!"  Smith said with delight. It was remarkably easy for him to feign all kinds of emotions because of the limitations of his electronic voice. Pretending to be surprised only required a slight increase in pitch and volume. Ditto with delight, enthusiasm, and joy. There were no facial expressions to belie his words. Alice didn't seem to have figured this out yet and appeared to trust that everything Smith said connoted nothing beyond the meaning of his words. Bayron wasn't so sure anymore. Neither was Hermelinda. But Alice was safe in her trust, he really was delighted to see the finger still pointing at his lonely friend Dr. Bayron. "Go on," he urged.