Robyn's Egg (17 page)

The clop of hard bottomed shoes approached, resonating off pallid yellow wall tiles as the same group of revelers descended the stairs to the tube landing. The tall blonde in the Terrilyn Picci dress approached with Robyn’s brown doll dangling from her hand. She unceremoniously dropped the chunk of plastic in Robyn’s lap and kept on walking.

Mrs. Wagstaff continued, “Babies are a precious commodity, expensive and hard to come by. You would be horrified to know how many people are ready to take yours, and to what lengths they will go. I will teach you what to look for, and how to protect yourself and your baby. I wouldn’t want you to become a victim like Mrs. Winfield here.”

Chapter 15

Friday, 12 February

I
nside Petro’s apartment, Robyn played with Kelsey’s daughter on the floor while Kelsey set the table for dinner. Moyer and Petro sat on the sofa and talked shop. Brooke had grown so much since Robyn had last seen her. Her eyes were open and wide, drinking in everything. She sat up on her own. When Robyn smiled, Brooke smiled back with her toothless grin. When Robyn put out a finger, Brooke clutched at it with a surprisingly fierce grip. When Robyn feigned shock, Brooke let out a high, rich chortle that melted Robyn’s heart.

“How is baby class going?” Kelsey asked.

Robyn glanced up, “Okay I guess. I think the instructor hates me.”

“Which one did you get?”

“A resentful shrew of a woman named Mrs. Wagstaff.”

Kelsey’s eyes lifted from the place settings she was arranging. “I had Mrs. Wagstaff. I thought she was very good.”

Robyn couldn’t believe it. “Are we talking about the same woman? Mrs. Wagstaff picks on me constantly and I don’t know why. I haven’t done anything to her.” A familiar acrid stench made Robyn scrunch her nose. The brown doll lay beside her, its vacant glass eyes staring into space. “I hate these damn dolls. All they do is poop and choke. Moyer,” she yelled, “the baby’s dirty and it’s your turn.”

Moyer shot her an annoyed expression. He said something to Petro before retrieving the doll. He held its bottom to his nose sniffing carefully, and wagged his head. “It isn’t the doll.”

Robyn cast a shrewd eye on Brooke. “Do you have something to tell me, darling?” The baby cooed and reflected back Robyn’s smile. Robyn rolled her over so Brooke’s bottom faced up. She lowered her nose to the back of Brooke’s diaper and cringed. “It’s yours,” she said to Petro. Petro pretended not to hear.

“I’ll take care of it,” Kelsey piped.

Robyn settled Brooke onto the floor and moved over to give Kelsey elbow room. Kelsey brought a diaper and wipes with her. She sat and positioned Brooke on the carpet in front of her, and spoke to her daughter in a string of nonsensical syllables as she unpeeled the diaper tapes. Brooke stared and gurgled her bubbly reply through a broad grin, eyes rapt on her mother’s face. When Robyn opened the diaper, a shock wave of stench pushed her back. Robyn stood and stumbled away. “My God, that could kill fish. It’s so much worse than the doll. Is this normal?”

Kelsey giggled and nodded at her daughter while she efficiently wiped up the pasty brown mess. Robyn pinched her nose and glanced at Moyer. This was not what she expected. Babies were looking less appealing by the day. What had happened to the sweet aroma of baby talc? In less than a minute, the diaper change was only a memory. Brooke lay on her side entranced in an effort to capture her toes.

Robyn’s eyes drank in all the baby equipment Petro and Kelsey had assembled; the carriage from their visit four months before, the decoy and papoose carrier, the jumping gym, the high chair and Patriot model crib. Robyn did the math in her head and it was quite a sum.

She checked for Moyer. He was busy talking with Petro, which was just as well. Moyer hated when she asked deeply personal questions. “When you negotiated for your baby, did Perko gut your savings like he did with us?”

Kelsey nodded.

“Then if you don’t mind me asking, how did you manage? You’re so well stocked.”

Kelsey’s face bore a pained expression. “It was a gift of sorts from Petro’s father. He elected for euthanasia over a state pension and directed the pension benefit to us.”

“Think your father would do that for us?” Moyer quipped. He’d been eavesdropping. If he was making jokes, her nosiness must have been excused.

Kelsey’s imminent return to work dominated dinner conversation. Her maternity leave was almost over. If she took anymore time off, she and Petro would have to start paying her employer for the loss of Kelsey’s productivity. Robyn commiserated and wondered if she was eligible for maternity leave as a laborer. She made a mental note to find out.

Petro started talking of work and the new test program. The turn of topic made Moyer antsy, but Robyn welcomed it. Moyer was so hush-hush about his job.

“Has Moyer brought up his new girlfriend?” Petro said. Petro gazed at Robyn and grinned in response to her stunned reaction. He glanced over at Moyer. Moyer looked angry.

“Apparently not,” Petro said. “It’s a delicious story.”

“Move on to something else,” Moyer warned.

“No,” Robyn said, “I think I should hear this. Go ahead.”

Petro’s smile broadened. He placed his forearms on the table and leaned forward conspiratorially. “So Berman, our boss,” he said nodding toward Kelsey, “the scary guy I mentioned before, he told us we needed to take over the test program for the new product now that Sasaki is no longer in the picture. They brought us a trainload of prisoners as test subjects. Old Moyer and I were pretty frightened figuring we might have to be alone with some pretty unsavory characters. But instead, they’re a bunch of debtors and dissidents. And sitting right in the front row is this gorgeous brunette. Well, Moyer’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He jumped right in and took charge. And as you well know, for Moyer, that’s pretty shocking. Before you know it, he’s arranged for what’s-her-name, Anna, to be in his group.

“I checked in her file and she’s some sort of radical college professor, likes to read books, right up Moyer’s alley,” Petro’s eyes glistened. “I noticed he takes a lot longer to interview her than he does anyone else. I kind of wonder what’s going on in there.”

Robyn sensed Moyer’s anger at Petro smoldering. She was angry as well, as much with Petro as with Moyer.

“Stop it, Petro,” Kelsey warned.

“Well it’s true,” Petro said.

“She’s just a test subject,” Moyer assured Robyn. “A prisoner.”

“Not after testing is done. Then she’s a free woman,” Petro added.

Moyer slammed his fists into the table, “Knock it off. You aren’t funny this time.”

The baby flinched at the crash of Moyer’s fists and seemed emotionally confused for a moment. Then Brooke’s mouth turned downward into a frown and she began to bawl.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Kelsey said to Petro. She rushed to her daughter and scooped her up trying to soothe her and quell her crying.

Moyer directed his attention at Robyn. “Honey, there’s nothing to it.”

“Really,” Robyn said sarcastically. “Then why didn’t you mention her before?”

“B-b-because it wasn’t important.”

“We’re going to have a child, Moyer. How could you?” She stood and rushed out of the room.

Petro called after her, “Hey I’m only kidding, just trying to get old Moyer’s goat.”

“Well I guess you were successful. Are you happy?” Moyer said as he raced out after his wife.

Monday, 15 February

Monday morning, Moyer found it hard to concentrate on work. Interviewing Anna again was all he could think of from the time he boarded the tube in the morning. After entering data from the initial interviews, Moyer sent the report to Petro so he could enter his data and cross check the results. He focused on the clock marking out time, tried to will it into speeding up. At 10 a.m. security agents led test subjects into Digi-Soft.

During his initial interview, Moyer was struck by the facial resemblance between Anna Bonderenko and a hologram of his mother he kept at home. The similarities were more than physical. Though he recalled little about his mother’s personality, from the stories his father told, Anna seemed very much like the woman he described.

Anna entered the interview room wary as a hare. The security agent that escorted her closed the door as he exited and Moyer and Anna were alone. She sat at the table and rested her hands in her lap. She mindlessly picked at her cuticles with restless fingers.

Though her posture appeared submissive, her eyes smoldered. She was still angry at him from their previous session. He knew the only reason she had returned was the promise of freedom. Inwardly he wondered if she also craved company, and whether it was that he was male or literate that appealed to her more.

Moyer set his tablet with the new questionnaire on the table. “I apologize for before. I overreacted. I didn’t mean to threaten you.”

Anna’s disposition didn’t change. It was clear there would be no lighthearted banter between them today. The hierarchy had been established as well as Moyer’s means of maintaining it. There was no going back.

Moyer sighed and sat in the chair next to hers. “Let’s get on with it then. I will ask you a series of questions. You will answer with a numeric response between one and five. One means you feel strongly positive. Five is strongly negative. And three is neutral. Do you understand?”

Anna nodded.

“Do you agree with your conviction?”

“Five,” Anna said without emotion or hesitation.

“Do agree with the policies of the Consolidated Board of Directors and the Chief Executive Officer?”

Anna’s mouth drew into a tense line and she turned away from Moyer and glared at the wall.

“Miss Bonderenko?”

“What?”

“Will you answer, please?”

“And extend my sentence? No thank you.”

“You needn't worry. This is a net-free zone. No one is listening.”

“You are, and you will mark my response down on your little computer. How can I trust you?”

“I promise that nothing you say will leave this room. You have my word.”

“In that case, you are a bastard for the brutish way you treated me. You’re no better than the security agents at the prison.”

“Again I apologize. Will you answer the question, please?”

“Five!”

Moyer couldn’t help but smile while he recorded Anna’s response. “Do you believe political dissent should be tolerated?”

“A good government should be able to withstand dissent. In fact, it should welcome it.”

“Please answer using the scale,” he reminded.

“One.”

“Should professors be able to select their own curriculum?”

“Give that a one, also. Otherwise, what is the point of teaching?”

“Do you wish to have a child?”

Anna shifted in her seat and directed her eyes toward the adjacent wall. “Is this part of the test?”

“Yes,” Moyer said.

She drew in a deep breath and held it. When she released the air through pursed lips, it sounded like a whale breaching. “Four years ago this would have been such an easy question to answer. I was a professor then and in love. Now, I don’t know if I could bring a child into this world. Three,” she said. “Why are you asking such charged questions?”

“The questions are intended to be polarizing, and on topics you feel strongly about. Your answers today will be used throughout the testing as a benchmark.”

Anna’s expression turned sardonic. “Aha — a brain fuck.”

“I beg your pardon?” Moyer said. The image of Anna he held in his head had all the unknowns colored in by what he remembered of his mother. Swearing didn’t jibe with the persona he had built for her and he was caught off guard.

“None of us had any idea what you planned to do to us. Testing is all we were told. We were all willing to gamble because we were promised freedom. Now I know it’s a brain fuck. Otherwise why would you need to see if our opinions changed over time?” Anna pushed her short black hair back behind her ears. She crossed her arms over her chest and settled back in her chair.

“Right. And you’re okay with that?”

“When they first sent me to prison, I thought I was tough, that they couldn’t break me. I was an idiot. Time grinds rock into dust, so what chance do I have? Your little project is my last hope. So fire away. Give it your best shot, or your worst. I don’t care which.”

“I searched for those two books you mentioned,” Moyer said. “I haven’t had much luck.”

Anna smiled and Moyer felt a change in her. She was more at ease, but it was more than that. The topic had changed their roles. She was once again the professor, and he the student; master and subordinate. He sensed Anna’s pride at having instilled an academic curiosity. “I have a friend who may be able to help you,” she said.

“You think these books are important, don’t you?”

She leaned forward, arms braced on the table. In a whisper she said, “I think these books could change your life.”

At lunch, Moyer found Hugh Sasaki eating a sack lunch alone in a corner of the break room. Moyer pulled his lunch from the refrigerator and sat across from Sasaki. Sasaki glanced up warily. Moyer couldn’t tell if the portly programmer even recognized him. Each day it seemed Sasaki awoke on a brand new world and had to relearn everything he knew before. Though a bit disconcerting, Moyer also found it a relief. He often used Sasaki as a sounding board when no one was around; comforted by the knowledge that Sasaki was incapable of repeating what Moyer had said, and that a day later was unlikely to recall they’d spoken.

“You will be glad to know the Worm has progressed to the testing phase,” Moyer said. Sasaki chewed his food with cow-like lethargy. “You wrote some pretty decent code, but I found a lot of mistakes, stuff the compiler skipped over. Man they were hard to find.” Sasaki stopped chewing and stared. “If you were trying to sabotage the project, you did a good job of it. I still don’t know if I’ve found them all.

“We’re selecting test subjects now. Prisoners, if you can believe that. They spare no expense around this —” Sasaki reached out and grabbed Moyer’s wrist as if he wanted Moyer to pay attention. Moyer stopped mid-sentence.