Nine-Tenths (16 page)

Leonard shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know if it would still be here after I go.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean after I go into the time machine, it may disappear like I’d never been here.”

“Why can’t we all go?”

Leonard’s heart raced. Shame and panic engulfed him. “There’s only room for one. I have to be strapped into a chair—”

“And you’re planning to build this…this machine that will carry
only
you?”

“I…uh—”

“You’re going to escape and leave Natalia and I to rot in this hellhole?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You meant it all right. You selfish bastard.” She pushed him away. “Selfish, selfish son-of-a-bitch.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll stay. We’ll find another way.”

She folded her arms and refused to look at him.

They sat quietly for some time. Leonard reached out his hand several times and Alina batted it away. He decided it might behoove him to remain still and let the cloud pass. Hopefully, it would pass. Perhaps he’d already lost his chance.
I have so much to tell you, Alina. Please forgive me.
His mind drifted to the day’s events, playing out like a video recording, all the sights and sounds. Suddenly, he furrowed his brow and sat forward.

“Alina, the beautiful blonde—?”

She glowered at him, finally meeting his gaze. “Is there room enough for her on your magic carpet?”

“No, no, no.” Leonard shook his head quickly and swept his hand down in a hushing gesture. “Do you remember her name?”

Alina cocked her head and replied, her tone softening. “It was Sandy something. Why?”

He put his head in one hand. “Sandy Little?”

“Yeah. That was it. Sandy Little. Do you know her? Does she work at the DID?”

Leonard groaned like a wounded animal. Then he gazed at Alina. He tried to speak, but all he could do was nod.

Alina leaned in and hugged him, her anger melting away. “You’re right,” she whispered in his ear. Tears streamed down her cheek and dampened Leonard’s dress shirt. “This is an evil world.”

Chapter Thirteen

The dramatic music on the nature program came to a crescendo and transitioned into a spunky melody as the credits rolled by.

Up next: Stehlen, the Early Years.

Shaken from his state of grief, Leonard sighed in anger. Throughout the evening’s discourse he had noticed neither the radio nor the television. But another Eric Stehlen documentary would be distracting as well as annoying.

“Let’s take a walk,” he said. “Is our daughter home yet? It’s nearly dark.”

“I’ll peek in the backyard.”

While Alina ran upstairs, Leonard walked around turning off electronic devices. He put on a pair of sneakers and stood by the door. He contemplated changing out of his slacks and into a pair of jeans but, beaten and exhausted, he did not feel like making the effort.

“Natalia’s in her fort,” Alina said as she hurried down the stairs and searched for her shoes and a light jacket.

They stepped outside. Orange clouds hung on the horizon and the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees since they drove home.

Alina zipped up her coat. “What does Sandy do at the DID?”

“She works in my department. In fact, she works for me. Calls me Mr. Tramer.”

Alina smiled softly. “I suppose this leads to the question I’ve been dying to ask you for three years.”

“What do
I
do at the DID?”

“That’s the one.” She took his hand and led him through the bushes into the open space.

For the following hour, Leonard relayed in detail the events of the day, stopping only to answer Alina’s periodic questions. They slipped into the Guilder Project just after the sun disappeared, and they lowered their voices even further while Alina subconsciously led Leonard to the same spot they visited Saturday night. The gray tabby approached them tentatively, but, seeming to recognize them as the couple who had no treats, the cat swiftly moved on. Leaning against the railing, Alina’s eyes grew bigger and bigger as Leonard’s story unfolded. Her mouth dropped open on occasion when he relayed a particularly outrageous detail. He stopped suddenly when he reached his end-of-day discovery.

“What’s wrong?” Alina asked, peering into his eyes with concern.

“This last detail is the most disturbing of all.”

“What could be more disturbing than spy satellites and people watching me visit the library?” Alina stepped absentmindedly to one side into the light. The buzzing florescent streetlamp cast odd flickering shadows on Alina’s face, giving her a macabre pallor.

Leonard cleared his throat. “They have some kind of tracking system.”

“Yeah. Watchers and house bugs.”

“No.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “What then?”

Leonard caught her eyes and waited until her resistance melted into rapt attention. “Just before I left for the day, I made my way to an area in the computer system that had a large red button labeled
TRACK.
I entered my name.”

“Please tell me you didn’t push the button.”

He put a finger over her lips. “I couldn’t help myself. I figured a screen would pop up allowing me to launch a WLN ticket for Leonard Tramer.”

“That’s just great.” She pushed his finger away. “Now they’re going to focus on us. Nice move, Leonard.”

He shook his head, tears forming in his eyes. “Worse.”

Alina gazed at him apprehensively. “What?” she whispered, no longer cocky and disparaging.

“A map appeared on the screen. No notes. Just a map and a pulsing red dot.”

“A pulsing red dot? What does that mean?”

“I think it means they can actually track me.”

Alina turned her head slowly to one side, her expression curious yet uneasy. “You mean like GPS tracking?”

“Yeah. Like the system knew I was sitting in that chair.”

Her jaw dropped.

“I don’t know how they do it,” he said fretfully. “I don’t carry a phone. Is it in my watch?”

“Your watch,” Alina cried, noticing his bare wrist. “You never go anywhere without it.”

“Maybe I should start.” He rubbed the band of skin, white from lack of sun. “And then there’s the question of my briefcase. Why do I carry a near empty briefcase to and from work every day? What’s the point?”

“I, uh…I don’t know.”

“Could they really count on me bringing that stupid thing every day? And what about on weekends?”

Alina touched him on the shoulder. “Maybe there’s a chip in your DID pass.”

“It’s not just a chip. It has to be some kind of GPS transmitter. A transmitter wouldn’t fit on an ID.” He shook his head. “And the thing is…”

“Yes?”

“I think everyone has a tracking number. I saw several numbers next to all the names I looked at today, even yours.”

Alina’s eyes grew wide. “Did they all have red buttons?” A loud crash on the second floor startled her and she jumped back into the shadows.

Leonard glanced up to discern the origin of the noise. Only one window glowed. Light and dark patches shimmered on the walls of the room beyond the curtainless frame. Laughter followed and two shapes swayed as if dancing. Leonard relaxed and steered his mind back to Alina’s previous question. “Does everyone have a red button?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. In that system, I only had time to look up my own name. I can investigate tomorrow.”

“I’ll bet it’s your DID pass,” Alina said confidently. “Technology advances every day. They make things smaller and smaller—”

“Not everyone has a DID pass.”

“But everyone has a National ID, even if they don’t work for the government.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Alina pulled an ID out of her front pocket. “And you’re supposed to have them on your person at all times.” She presented her Department of Health ID. It was hard to make out the details, but it appeared to be similar to Leonard’s DID pass.

“Why don’t I have to carry mine?”

“I presume you do. You just don’t leave it laying around the house.”

Leonard fumbled in his back pocket and produced his wallet. He had not hidden his ID when he got home that evening but, according to Alina, the other Leonard refused to keep it in his wallet. “So I sneak upstairs and grab it when I go out?” He peered inside his wallet to verify the location of the DID pass.

“You rarely go out, Leonard. Except for work.”

“Oh.” He felt as if the alternate-reality-Leonard was almost as lonely and pathetic as the one who spent his life devoted to the pursuit of a pointless time machine.

Driving away wistful thoughts, Leonard reiterated, “It would be too big to fit on an ID.” He frowned, pondering the possibilities. “On the other hand, perhaps you’re right. Maybe they’ve developed transmitters the size of an RFID. Then they could hide them in an ID, no problem.”

Alina furrowed her brow. “What’s an RFID?”

“Radio frequency identification.” He flipped his belt around to expose a copper square the size of a dime with a coiled pattern. “They use them on merchandise.”

Alina examined her own belt. “Perhaps they are tracking us through our clothing.”

Leonard shook his head. “The National ID makes way more sense. Otherwise they’d have to reprogram the RFID every time someone bought a pair of jeans.”

Alina suddenly shivered as if a spider had dropped from her hair into her blouse. “I want to leave.” She grabbed Leonard’s hand and pulled him into the street. The streetlamp seemed to buzz in rhythm with her erratic movements. Alina shook her head violently as if willing the spider to fly off. “They may know where I am, but they can’t stop me from moving.”

Leonard resisted her pull. “Slow down. We can’t run away from this.”

“You can. Build your time machine.” Marching away, she inadvertently kicked an empty soda can lying in the street. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Shh, shh. I’m not going anywhere.” He followed briskly. “Not without you.”

“And not without the Watchers tracking us.”

A dog in a nearby window barked madly, further agitating Leonard’s nerves. The dog’s owner screamed obscenities. Alina ran, holding her hands over her ears. Just before she reached the border between the Guilder Project and the open space, Leonard caught up with her, cutting her off by standing in her path. Taking her hands, he said softly, “Let’s test it.”

He allowed her to escort him out of the neighborhood and into the open space, exiting the government ghetto exactly where they had entered previously that evening.

“How?”

“Tell me when you go to lunch and where you’re going and I’ll see if you show up as a moving red dot.” He sounded slightly cheerful as if proposing a playful game of hide and seek. “Maybe we can determine whether or not the transmitters are in the ID passes or the purses-slash-briefcases or the clothing—”

“You want me to take off my clothing in front of the hospital?”

“Do you have any old clothing you bought before the National Emergency?”

She nodded.

“So wear something retro tomorrow. And no jewelry.”

She rolled her eyes, urging him to follow as she made her way home.

“Come on, Alina.” Leonard quickened his gait to match her pace. “When do you take lunch?”

“I don’t really leave for lunch.”

“Make an exception then. What’s your favorite restaurant within walking distance?”

She shook her head. “There aren’t any restaurants near the hospital anymore.”

“That’s ridiculous. All those people visiting loved ones? Restaurants in a hospital district should be hugely successful.”

“No.”

“Don’t tell me. The hospital is surrounded by government housing projects.”

“No. Well, yes, there are some, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What then?” Leonard demanded.

“Things don’t work the way they used to. People don’t just
open
a restaurant.”

“You’re saying there are no restaurants? Bullshit.”

“Not where they’re not deemed necessary.”

“Oh, come on. People need to eat.”

“We eat at the cafeteria.”

“Everyone?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Typically, I grab something and bring it back to my office. I don’t like socializing there anymore.” She eased her way through the bushes looking left and right before emerging on the sidewalk.

“You should just bring your lunch,” he suggested as he joined her. “In fact, that reminds me. Tomorrow I want to bring my lunch.” He took several steps toward their home, but his wife did not follow.

Turning back he saw Alina, her arms folded and her eyes narrowed. “We can’t afford that, Leonard.”

He cocked his head. “I can’t bring my lunch?”

“You never bring your lunch. You eat at the base. I eat at the hospital. The kids eat at school.”

“We don’t have enough food to—”

“Have you noticed what I’ve put on the dinner table the past few nights?”

Leonard looked up at the stars, recalling the meals they shared. “It’s been great.” He counted off on his fingers. “Meatloaf, fajitas, chili. And we had pancakes Sunday morning.”

She marched toward him, revising his list, spitting out the words as she approached. “A pathetically small meatloaf with watered-down gravy. Fajitas with no vegetables and half a tortilla each. And canned chili with dry bread and moldy cheese. Furthermore, did you fail to notice there were no eggs or milk when you tried to make pancakes?”

“We’re poor?” Leonard asked, shocked that given his position and the respect afforded him he was not well enough off to provide for his family.

“We’re doing better than some.”

“Some people don’t eat?”

“Pretty much everyone eats, Leonard, unless they’re running from the law.”

“That’s wonderful, that’s—”

“Except that no one eats much and no one eats well. There’s next to nothing on the grocery store shelves.”

“But still—”

“You think that’s nice?” she quipped, tightening her already closed-off posture. “If it requires a colossal totalitarian state that spies on its citizens, steals children, sterilizes women, and closes borders to achieve this
utopia
then I think I’d rather go hungry.”