Perception (8 page)

“His chip isn’t
tracking.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed
as he processed the news. “That is kind of odd, I guess. What do the
authorities say?”

I offered a
frustrated shrug. “They aren’t saying anything.”

He dropped his arm
and took a step back. “I see. And you think I have something to do with it?”

“I don’t know. But I
think Dexter might.”

“Dexter?”

I dug into my
shoulder bag and removed the note. I showed it to him. “I found this in Liam’s
room.”

He took it, then
handed it back. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

I wiped the runaway
tear off my face with the back of my hand. “It’s the only clue I have.”

Noah’s ComRing
buzzed. He tapped it and the image of the auburn-haired girl popped up. Noah
turned the image and sound off, and he mumbled into his hand, “Yeah, I’m on my
way.”

I saw his chest
expand as he took a deep breath, considering.

“Dexter has a lot of
problems, I’ll be the first to admit that, but I just can’t see him mixed up
with this. I mean, how would someone like Dexter ever meet someone like your
brother?”

I shrugged limply. “I
know it’s a long shot, but I have to at least ask him.”

“Okay, I’ll help you.”
Noah started walking. I stared at his back, not sure what he meant by that.

He turned. “Are you
coming?”

***

I couldn’t believe I
was running after Noah Brody to who knew where. I wasn’t sure I could trust
him, but at this point, I didn’t have a choice. I caught up and kept pace with
his long strides, following him onto the MagLev public pod. He dropped coins
into the old money collector, one of the few patrons who did, and I ran my hand
under the scanner.

I took a sideways
seat next to him, my heart beating and my mind racing. What if this was a
trick? Maybe I’d end up missing, too, my chip cut out of my hand and my wrists
slashed, while I bled to death in some dank, abandoned shed.

 I shook my head. I
couldn’t think like that. At this point, Noah was my best hope for finding
Liam, and he said he’d help me. I had to believe him.

A black guy with a
red bandana on his head sat across from us. His white wife or girlfriend sat beside
him. The pod had the capacity to seat twelve, but twice that many jumped
aboard, choosing to stand in the aisle, hanging onto suspended bars for
balance.

A petite Asian girl
squeezed in beside me forcing me to press against Noah. I felt the strength of
his thigh against mine and the warmth of his skin against my arm. I wanted to
feel repulsed, but I was surprised that my response was different, curious.

If Noah felt
anything, he didn’t give it away. His dark eyes focused on a bright digital
advertisement opposite us, partially concealed by shifting bodies. I examined
his profile wondering if I could trust him. His hair was trimmed short over his
ears, and his cheek bones were high. A shadow of a beard was forming on his
chin and jaw line, and his lips, though pressed together firmly, were full.

My impressions were
changing. Noah Brody was actually not bad-looking.

The pod came to a
stop, and he stood and exited with me close on his heels. We were in a residential
area with blocks of apartment buildings and dense, multi-family housing. I
followed him down a back alley past graffiti-laden fences cramped with long
grasses and wild-flowers.

The path opened onto
a friendlier-looking cul-de-sac lined with one-story attached Spanish-styled
houses. Each house had tangerine-orange stucco siding that was faded in the places
that saw the most sun. The yards were landscaped with indigenous cacti, lemon
trees and wild grasses. A few homes had tiny electric cars or scooters sitting
in the drive, but I assumed most of the people living in this area took
advantage of public transit.

Noah climbed the
steps to a wooden patio I could tell was once painted white. It had a number of
terracotta planters on it, all over-flowing with bright pink, purple and red flowers
native to California. I supposed that some people might call the place
charming.

The front door was
open, so no one noticed when we walked in. The bungalow didn’t have a foyer,
and I found myself immediately in a small living area. A sofa draped with a
mixed array of blankets sat opposite a dated midsized flat-screen TV. A
reclining chair rested at an angle between them, and on the floor was an old
burgundy rug.

The eating area was
on the left side of the entrance. The kitchen table had someone’s leftover
peanut butter sandwich on one end and a finished old-fashioned puzzle on the
other. The image was of France. Though there were three pieces missing, it
hadn’t stopped the puzzle maker from working it to the end.

Children’s voices
broke through the quiet.

“Noah!”

A young boy, no older
than five, threw himself into Noah’s arms.

“Hi, big guy!” Noah’s
voice was softened by a fondness I was surprised to hear.

“This is my little
brother, Davis,” he said. “Davis this is....”

“Chloe,” I said,
deciding to keep my real life separate from my intrusion into this one.

Another boy followed
behind Davis. This one was in his early teens.

“And,” Noah
continued, “my brother, Jonathon.”

“Hi,” I said.

Noah had two
siblings, both brothers. Being from Sol City, I’d never seen such a family
before, though, I knew they existed.

“Oh, Noah, you’re
here.” The auburn-haired girl from the holographic image entered the room. At
first I wondered if this was another of Noah’s girlfriends, but on second
glance she looked too old for him. Late twenties at least.

“I got called into
work early. Tell your mom I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The girl came to a
halt when she saw me. A smile crossed her face. “I didn’t know we had company.”

Her hair was pulled back
off her face, and her eyes, the same color as Noah’s, were like chocolate
brownies. Like my contacts.

I surprised myself by
thinking the girl was pretty. Could brown-eyed brunettes be pretty? I glanced
into a mirror hanging crookedly on the wall and considered my revised image.
With this disguise, was I still pretty?

“Skye, this is Chloe.
She’s new to town.” To me he said, “This is my cousin Skye.”

“They’ve both eaten,”
Skye said after welcoming me. “Jonathon, help Noah put Davis to bed at seven,
okay?”

Jonathon nodded and
followed her as she hurried outside.

“She’s a nurse,” Noah
said. “She helps take care of my brothers when my mother and I are working.”

“You have a job?” I
meant, outside of stepping in for his mother.

Noah tilted his head.
“Not all of us get summers of leisure.”

Before I could think
of a smart reply, Noah’s head snapped to attention. A woman outside was talking
to Jonathon. Noah grabbed my arm.

“It’s my mom. I don’t
think she should see you.”

He pushed me into the
first room off the living room just as I heard Saundra Brody walk in the front
door.

I was obviously in
Noah’s bedroom. A double bed was neatly made with a navy blue quilt. A near-empty
desk had only a thin e-tablet and computer pen lying on top. An acoustic guitar
was in the corner. A digital photo frame hung on the wall and flashed pictures
of the Brody family. I pressed the pause tab when one of the whole family
appeared. It was taken when Reverend David Brody was still alive, and the
family was at a cabin in the woods. Davis was just a baby in Saundra’s arms.
Noah was shorter and skinnier, but he still had the mischievous grin I’d seen
him flash a few times.

Seeing how Noah
lived, it was hard to imagine that at one time our grandfathers were friends
and co-researchers. If only Matthew Brody had been more open-minded, Noah would
be hanging out with me and Jackson and the gang, and Saundra wouldn’t be
cleaning anyone else’s home for a living.

It was a small house
and I could see into the living room through the crack in the bedroom door.

The familiar shape of
our family’s domestic help stood silhouetted in the sunlight. Noah and Davis
both approached her and gave her a hug. Noah asked her if she’d had a good day.
Saundra sank tiredly into the recliner and shifted back. Noah brought her a
glass of ice tea.

My throat thickened
with emotion. Never in my life had I experienced the familial affection in my
own family as I’d just witnessed with this one.

Saundra closed her
eyes, and I could see the dark rings underneath them. Her arms were thin and
bony, her breath deep and raspy.

She was ill.

Of course she was. That
was why Noah had been coming to clean our house for her every once in a while.

I moved away from the
door when I saw Noah approaching.

“She’s sick,” I said
as he entered.

Noah scoffed. “You’re
just noticing that now?”

“I’m sorry if I’ve
seemed insensitive before.”

Noah puffed through
his nose as he sat at the chair by his desk. He propped up the computer pen,
little tripod legs snapping out, and turned it on. A virtual monitor projected
onto the wall, while a virtual keyboard lit up simultaneously on his desk.

“What’s wrong with
her?”

Noah flashed me a
look like it wasn’t my business, but then he answered me anyway. “Her heart is
failing. She was born with a weak heart, so it’s not a big surprise.”

“But,” I continued, “couldn’t
she be cured with stem cell therapy?”

“You mean embryonic
stem cell therapy?”

I shrugged, “Yeah,
whatever.” I’d heard that some uneducated people still had an issue with that.
“Why hasn’t she been treated?”

“She thinks killing
one human, big or small, to fix another human, big or small, is wrong.”

“But...”

Noah gave me a sharp
look. “I invited you here to work on your problems, not mine. Okay?”

I lowered myself
tentatively into a second chair where I had view of his virtual monitor. I
understood now that Noah had to come home to take care of his family, which was
why we hadn’t just used his ComRing at the food court to work on this.

Noah spoke to the
monitor, “Sleiman Enterprises.”

I was stunned. “Sleiman?
My dad works for them.”

Noah huffed. “No
kidding. Half of LA works for them or one of their many divisions. All of Sol
City works for them.”

“No they don’t.”

Noah swivelled to
look me in the eyes. “You’re pretty naive aren’t you?”

My back straightened,
my emotions ruffled. “I’m not. Just because I don’t agree with you, doesn’t
make me naive.”

“Fine.” Noah turned
back to the monitor.

Yeah, fine, I
thought. I just wanted to get done and get home. “What would Sleiman have to do
with Liam’s disappearance?”

“Well, for one thing,
there are only a handful of corporations in the US that basically run
everything. Agribusiness, energy distribution, science and medicine. The main
controllers and distributors of pharmaceuticals.”

“Drugs?” I said
indignantly. “Liam isn’t into drugs.”

“Maybe not, but
Dexter is.”

“I figured. What’s he
on?”

“Two years ago,
Dexter was pushed in front of a transit pod. He was able to scramble out of the
way before being flattened, but the pod smacked his foot, breaking all the
bones including his toes, ankle and shin bones in several places. By the time
his foot had healed up he was firmly addicted to pain killers. He tried to get
off them, but it was tough. The cycle of anxiety, palpitations, and nausea kept
him from sleeping more than a couple of hours a night and the whole experience
threw him into a deep depression. Add uppers, downers and anti-depression meds
to his arsenal of painkillers and you have a big problem.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yes. And expensive.
Insurance doesn’t cover addictive use of prescription meds. Doctors don’t
prescribe them either. At least not the good ones.”

“I don’t get the
connection with Liam.”

“Liam works at Sol
City University, right?”

I nodded.

“SCU is operated and
funded by Sleiman Enterprises.” Noah pointed to the monitor with SLIEMAN’s home
page on it.

“Yeah, I guess I knew
that, but Liam is just a researcher. He doesn’t have anything to do with
SLEIMAN, at least not directly.”

Noah clicked on a
link that boasted about all of Sleiman’s research efforts.

“Sleiman controls all
scientific research. It’s no longer about researching and discovering new and
great possibilities for the good of mankind; it hasn’t been for decades. It’s
about money. Sleiman directs the research until it gets the ‘findings’ it wants
in order to make money.”