Tears in Rain (46 page)

Then something very odd happened. The archivist raised his hand in the air as if he were going to say something, then brought it to his throat and slowly collapsed on his side.

“Yiannis!” gasped RoyRoy, leaning toward him and then also toppling over.

Bruna leaped from her chair and rushed to the two inert bodies. Small yellow bubbles were coming out of RoyRoy’s mouth. Then Bruna noticed the smell, a subtle smell of danger. There was something in the air, a chemical threat. She held her breath but it was already too late. She noticed that her legs were getting heavy, and her body was no longer holding her upright. She fell to the floor, but she wouldn’t give in. With an enormous effort, and assisted by her extraordinary strength, she painfully dragged
herself on all fours toward the window. She had to get there; she had to open it. She focused mentally on the distance she needed to cover. But she was moving very slowly and she wouldn’t be able to go on holding her breath much longer. She was only halfway there when a reflex reaction made her swallow a mouthful of air. She felt it filling her lungs deliciously, liberating her from the agonizing suffocation, and she also noted how it was poisoning her. It was like a sudden misting over her eyes. And then darkness and nothingness.

B
runa opened her eyes. The house was buzzing and shaking. Liquid shadows looked as if they were chasing one another across the ceiling. It took her a few moments to understand that the noise was being caused by the sky-trams passing right in front of the window. Of
her
window. Another one went by. Again the noise and the fluttering of the shadows. Bruna breathed deeply as anguish overwhelmed her. She knew what she had to do, and it was terrible.

She looked at the clock: Monday January 31, 2109, 09:30. She had to get a move on.
Four years, three months, and eleven days. Four years, three months, and eleven days?
What did that mean? Why had that temporal computation suddenly popped into her head? She got out of bed with a deep sense of unease. She was dressed. Better: more time saved. She felt dizzy, confused. A patina of unreality seemed to cover everything, as if life were skimming over every surface. She didn’t recognize her house, for example. She knew it was her house but she couldn’t quite remember it. That, however, was unimportant. What was important, urgent, frightening, was the mission she had to carry out in order to save little Gummy from his terrible fate. That was all too clear. Her mission and the child’s predicament stood out above the general unreality of her surroundings like the fixed, detailed image of a horse running across a hazy background. Those were
the only things she needed to do. Those were the only things she needed to know.

The belt was on the table, unfolded and displayed as if it were a jewel. And next to it, a small hologram of Gummy. The child was roaring with laughter, his little screwed-up eyes sparkling, his chubby cheeks smooth. He was two and a half. Bruna remembered herself kissing that new skin—that sweet, delicious flesh—and hot tears of fear and pain began to run down her cheeks. She swatted them away with her hand, as if she were killing an insect and then, with an enormous act of self-control, put on the belt. She was well aware of how it worked: first, she had to deactivate the safety switch, and then she had to press the touch-sensitive membrane for at least twenty seconds. When she lifted her fingers, the tiny ampoules would open, allowing the lethal gas to escape. At least it would be a quick death: less than a minute before she suffocated. Nothing like what they had promised to do to Gummy if she didn’t keep her side of the bargain. An interminable, sadistic death. Bruna suppressed her retching.
Stay calm
, she implored herself. She had to concentrate. The deafening clamor of another tram spurred her to action. She was to release the content of the ampoules in the main sky-tram interchange to take advantage of the large number of people and the enclosed space. It was located four blocks away. She switched off the holograph ball and put it in her pocket. She was heading out when she realized she wasn’t wearing her mobile. How strange. She glanced around but couldn’t see it. She searched for it more carefully: among the wrinkled sheets, in the bathroom, on the floor. Her mobile wasn’t anywhere.

“Screen, locate my mobile.”

There was no response. She looked at the screen; it was a very old model. She tried switching to manual and tapped a number. The computer wouldn’t make the call. How odd. The feeling of unreality grew, an unreality buzzing around her like a swarm of flies. Then Gummy’s face lit up inside her head again with icy
clarity. What did it matter whether or not she had her mobile? She was going to die in a few minutes.

And yet...

Four years, three months, and eleven days.
Again, that absurd mantra flashed through her mind. The elevator had an “Out of Order” sign on it, so Bruna walked down the filthy stairs, feeling she was carrying a stone in her heart, an ever heavier weight that was slowing down her steps. The number she’d tried to call with her computer was Paul Lizard’s. So who was Paul Lizard? An acquaintance, maybe a friend. Lizard’s name emerged from all the confusion like a secure harbor in a stormy sea. A corner of light in the icy shadows. Someone who might possibly help her? With each step down, Bruna felt more torn between the need to accomplish her mission and the horror that the killing inspired in her. But she couldn’t avoid it. She had to do it.

And yet...

She reached the ground floor and noticed that the building was a sort of apartment-hotel. How strange that she didn’t remember. In the damp, dark lobby there was a small counter and an electronic screen that displayed the prices. The light was on, but there was no one there. Suddenly, Bruna’s feet propelled her to the counter. She looked at the small screen and saw that it was active. She keyed in Lizard’s number before she realized what she was doing. The policeman’s face appeared instantly. Because he
was
a policeman. Bruna gave a start as she remembered this and, at the same time, the mere sight of the man’s features made her want to cry with relief.

“Bruna! Where the devil are you?” shouted Lizard.

“I’m...at home,” she stammered.

“You’re not at home because
I’m
at your place! Bruna, what’s going on? You’re disconnected. What’s wrong with your mobile? I know about Yiannis and RoyRoy.”

Yiannis and RoyRoy. The names generated concentric waves in her clouded mind, like stones falling into muddy water. She began to hear a muffled buzzing in her ears.

“I have to go. I have to do something terrible,” she moaned.

“Wait! Bruna, what are you saying? What’s happening?”

“I have to kill. I have to kill a lot of people.”

“What!? But why?”

“If I don’t do it, they’ll torture Gummy,” she wailed.

“Gummy? Who’s Gummy?”

“My son! My son!” she yelled.

Lizard looked at her, stunned, as if someone had just hit him on the head.

“You don’t have any children, Bruna,” he whispered.

The buzzing was becoming deafening.

“I have to go.”

“No, wait! Where are you? Listen carefully to what I’m saying. You can’t have children. You’re a rep!”

Four years, three months, and eleven days.

“What does
four years, three months, and eleven days
mean, Lizard? You must know.”

The inspector looked at her, bewildered.

“I have absolutely no idea. Please tell me where you are, Bruna. I’ll come and get you.”

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry. If I don’t do it, they’ll torture Gummy.”

“Wait—please. How do you know? How do you know they won’t hurt him anyway? Maybe you’ll kill those people you have to kill and then they’ll hurt him anyway.”

Bruna thought that over for a few moments. No. They wouldn’t do that to him. She knew that with absolute clarity and certainty. If she did her part, the child would be saved.

“You’re in Montera Street! I’ve located you. Don’t move; I’ll be there in five minutes!” he shouted.

“I can’t. I’m off.”

“Where?!” asked Lizard, in agony.

“To the sky-tram interchange,” Bruna replied.

And turning around, she headed outside, dizzy, nauseous, deaf to her surroundings.

She walked quickly, enclosed within the bubble of her nightmare, oblivious to the preaching of the Apocalyptics, the racket from the public screens, the looks of fear or revulsion that she was stirring up in her path. She walked like an automaton, totally focused on what she had to do. But when she reached the enormous star-shaped interchange, her feet stopped. The buzzing inside her skull became more intense, a noise that was beginning to be painful. She visualized the circular, jagged blade of a saw cutting her brain in two and she shuddered. Then, from who knows where, the image of a woman with a black line drawn around her body—a woman split by her tattoo—came back to her.
Four years, three months, and eleven days.
For a few seconds, she couldn’t move and she could barely breathe. Then Gummy’s face burst into her head, and everything went into motion again. She checked that the belt was ready and decided to take the elevated walkway so as to enter through the side door of the building. Just then, a car screeched to a halt on the sidewalk next to her and a man leaped out. It was Lizard. Bruna stepped back a few paces, on guard, ready to fight him if he tried to stop her. But he remained standing a few feet away.

“Bruna...relax...”

“Don’t come any closer.”

“I won’t. I just want to talk to you. Tell me, whom do you have to kill? How are you going to do it?”

“Let me past. You can’t stop me.”

“Listen, Bruna, your brain has been manipulated. I think they’ve injected you with an induced-behavior implant. They’ve made you believe you have a son, but it’s not true. We have to remove that implant before it kills you.”

The buzzing intensified. Maybe Lizard was right. Maybe the implant business was true. But her son was still in the hands of those monsters. Small, terrified, and defenseless. The terror
she imagined the child must be experiencing almost made her scream. She deactivated the safety catch on the belt and moved her hand toward the touch-sensitive membrane.

“They told me what they’ll do to Gummy if I don’t obey,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can’t stop myself. I have to release the gas before noon. If I can’t do it in the interchange, I’ll do it right here.”

“Wait. Hold on, by all the damned species! Please! Don’t do it. If it’s gas, it won’t have the same effect here in the open air as it would in the interchange, right? They wouldn’t want you to release it here.”

“Perhaps. But it’s a very effective neurotoxin. I know it kills in under a minute and it’s very potent. It will work here, too.”

Paul looked around. A few feet away there was a travelator loaded with people. And then there was the overhead walkway, cars, buildings.

“Shit, Bruna, I’m begging you; wait a minute, please. Please! I’ve called a friend of yours. He must be just about here. Wait, please.”

The rep panicked. She touched the membrane with two fingers. She left them there, pressing on the belt.

“If you’ve called for reinforcements...if you’re thinking of shooting me...I’ve already deactivated the safety catch. If I take my fingers away from this membrane, the ampoules will open and the gas will escape.”

Lizard blanched.

“No, please. I’ve only alerted a friend of yours, honestly. Give me ten minutes—no, twenty. That’s all I’m asking you. It’s not 12:00 yet. I’m only asking you for twenty minutes. If you still want to go into the interchange at 11:30, I’ll let you go. I’m begging you. Twenty minutes, and in return for that I’ll take care of your child. After you’re dead. Someone will have to look after him.”

Bruna felt a dizzy abyss opening up in front of her. It was true; she hadn’t thought of that. Someone would have to take
care of Gummy.
Four years, three months, and eleven days.
She gasped in anguish and pressed her fingers a little more firmly against the membrane.

“Okay. Till 11:30. And you’ll take care of my boy. But don’t call anyone, and don’t move.”

“I won’t do anything. Calm down.”

They were the longest twelve minutes of Paul Lizard’s life. As far as the rep was concerned, they passed like a nightmare, like a feverish delirium. Like a slow fog perforated by sudden horrendous images that flashed across her mind like knife strokes.

Pablo Nopal arrived at the thirteenth minute.

“Hi, Bruna.”

The android studied him anxiously. She knew him. And he disquieted her in some way, though she didn’t know why.

“What a beautiful necklace. What a lovely
netsuke
. It was your mother’s, do you remember? When you were little and your parents were going out for dinner, your mother would come into your room before she left. You pretended to be asleep but you could see her bending over you, slim, and making a rustling noise in her elegant clothes, perfumed, outlined by the light from the corridor. And this little man would be dangling from her neck. Then your mother would put a hand over the
netsuke
, and like that, while she was holding it, she would brush your cheek or your forehead with her lips. No doubt she would hold on to the necklace so it wouldn’t hurt you as she bent over, but that scene crystallized those ingredients inside you forever: the promising night; the glow of the corridor; your mother’s kiss as she grabbed the little man as if he were a talisman; the secret key that would allow her to teleport herself to that mysterious, happy life that awaited your parents somewhere.”