Robyn's Egg (7 page)

“So what?” Robyn said, “The net chip already does that.”

Petro’s expression grew serious. “This is different. You know how, with the net chip, you have the feeling of watching and being a spectator to what’s happening? With the Worm, the recipient isn’t aware information has been implanted. The information is like a memory. If a ball game was downloaded, your memory would tell you that you were there, and you wouldn’t know any different.”

“Are you saying that if this program was used to download information on, say, knitting, I would know how to knit?”

“Well,” Petro said, “your hands would take a little time to come up to speed, but the knowledge would be there. At first it would seem you had become a little rusty.”

Moyer pursed his lips. “I don’t think the application is intended for anything as trivial as knitting.”

“What happened to Sasaki?” Robyn asked.

“Security agents took him,” Moyer said, “Dragged him out. They brought him back after rehabilitation a slobbering wreck.”

Robyn’s eyebrows shot up. She turned to Kelsey. “I knew something was wrong. Moyer came home all quiet. Not the normal quiet, a more serious and tense quiet. You know what I mean.”

Kelsey nodded.

Petro flashed a mischievous grin and Moyer worried over what he had in mind. “With Hugh Sasaki’s misfortune, the lead programming position has opened up. Moyer looks to be next in line. It’s more money and an opportunity for bigger things in the future.” He shot Moyer a wink.

“Moyer, why didn’t you mention this to me?” Robyn asked.

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, not until I knew for sure.” Moyer glared at Petro who barely restrained his glee. It was all a game to the Brazilian, like chess. Petro wanted Moyer to help him advance. Moyer would carry the petard and take the risks — Petro would get a free ride on his coattails at a safe distance. Telling Robyn was his way of applying pressure to squeeze Moyer into doing what he wanted.

The baby started fussing. Soft bleating cries barely audible from across the room tugged at Robyn’s heart. Petro and Moyer cleared dishes while Kelsey sat next to Robyn on the sofa and nestled the baby in Robyn’s arms. She passed Robyn a bottle. Moyer paused to watch. Tiny lips closed tightly around the nipple. The baby’s cheeks pulsed in and out. Robyn bent her head close and drew a deep breath through her nose. Tranquility spread through her like a gentle breeze. From the expression on his wife’s face, Moyer knew there was no turning back.

“You are a natural, Robyn,” Kelsey said. “When are you two getting a child?”

Chapter 5

Monday, 17 October

R
obyn checked her lotto tickets on the net while riding the tube downtown from work. She had one ticket with three correct numbers out of eight. That would get her a free ticket. The rest she tore in half and crumpled into little balls. Maybe Moyer was right, the lotto was for suckers. One hundred credits gone — well technically, only ninety-nine — money tossed to the winds, money she’d never see again, and worse, an
I-told-you-so
lecture from Moyer.

The tube decelerated. Robyn consulted the route map. It was her stop. She filed out of the car leaving the balled up remnants of her losing lotto tickets on the seat. She climbed the steps up to ground level a few blocks north of Freedom Circle.

The streets just off the Circle were lined with boutiques and specialty shops. She used to spend a lot of time shopping this district before she became a cleaning woman. Since then, her circle of friends had dwindled, and to be honest, so had her desire to shop. The prospect of running into someone from her previous life was too dismal. She had lost the energy and will to explain her circumstances.

It was cold, the sky high and light blue. A dusting of ash, gray snow, still remained in doorway thresholds and corners where sweeper machines couldn’t reach. Robyn glanced at displays in store windows curious as to what was in fashion, though she doubted she’d ever be in a position again to be trendy. In her younger days, she paid top dollar for clothes without corporate advertisements. It was a sign of affluence. Now, because of saving for the baby, she barely owned anything without a logo. The more and larger the logos, the less the clothes cost. It was an enticement or commission of sorts in return for turning oneself into a human billboard. These days she was an insect trapped in amber, frozen while time and fashion passed her by.

Despite her interest, she didn’t slow from her goal. She played out the route in her head. Many of the stores along the way were vacant, windows dark and empty with FOR LEASE signs displayed prominently, victims of the Mars Initiative. It was a bad sign. Robyn prayed the shop she was searching for was still in business. She rounded the corner onto Oak, and there it was: Baby Universe. The lights were on inside and an LED sign flashed the word OPEN. In the window display, a female mannequin held a baby and fed it from a bottle. Next to that was a high-tech stroller, much nicer than Petro and Kelsey’s, and an antique crib.

Robyn peered through the window as a clerk stocked shelves. She was young and pretty, too young to have a child of her own, or to know much about them. Another woman walked among the displays. She was older, in her late forties, Robyn judged. She walked tall and proud, her face placid. It was her eyes that struck Robyn as profoundly sad. They displayed no spark, no life. The woman plucked a doll off the shelf. A small smile tickled the corners of her mouth. She pulled the doll tight to her chest and then cradled it in her arms as Kelsey had shown Robyn to hold Brooke.

The woman looked outside as if she sensed someone watching. Robyn froze, feeling like a voyeur, sure she’d been caught. When the woman turned away, Robyn started for the entrance. On her way inside, the woman with the doll brushed by on her way out.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, you can’t leave with that,” the shop girl called.

The young clerk rushed past Robyn in chase. The clerk caught up to the woman on the sidewalk and clutched the doll by the foot. The woman turned, eyes wide, nostrils flared, mouth puckered in determination. “It’s my baby,” the woman snarled. She tightened her grasp and tried to jerk the doll away, but the clerk wouldn’t release her grip. After a few more attempts, rationality returned to the woman’s face, and with it, resignation. She released the doll and tried to blink back tears. She turned away and staggered down the street.

The clerk carried the doll back inside by an arm, dangling it loosely as if it was a sack of onions. With her other hand she flapped her blouse in and out rapidly to draw cool air against her skin. She froze when she noticed Robyn. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were there.”

“Does that happen often?” Robyn asked as the clerk returned the doll to the shelf.

The girl’s face flushed pink. “Unfortunately it does, and it’s scary every time. It’s the look in their eyes that gets me. I swear they go a little insane. It’s the time before their sanity returns that frightens me. You can never be sure if the reason they’re childless might be a psych issue.” She shook her head side to side. “Some people would do anything for a baby, even a plastic one.”

“She looked sad to me,” Robyn said.

The girl grinned sheepishly as if she knew she’d said too much. “Can I help you find something?”

“No, I'm just looking.”

The girl gave an understanding smile and returned to the counter. Robyn affected interest in baby accessories as she made her way to the infant mannequins. She picked a doll from a display and held it to her breast as Kelsey had shown her. The shape and weight were right, but the color was a bit off and it felt wrong – stiff and cold. She flipped the price tag, almost two thousand credits. She returned the doll to the shelf.

“We have better models,” the clerk said. “That’s a low end decoy.”

“Two thousand is the low end?”

The clerk smiled, but didn’t answer. She brought another doll from behind the counter, carried it cradled as if it was alive, and placed it in Robyn’s arms. It was warm. Soft blond hair tickled Robyn’s shoulder. Eyes moved under closed lids. Its chest rose and dropped as if it was breathing, and it turned and snuggled against her. A tingle spread through her chest and a stunned numbness. She was surprised at her reaction and the emotions building within her. She bent down; her face nestled into its hair and inhaled through her nose. It smelled chemical and sterile. And just that quickly the spell was broken. She recognized she was holding nothing more than a piece of plastic – a clever trick filled with sensors and motors, but nothing more.

The clerk looked on expectantly. Robyn felt embarrassed. Then she understood the distinction between the two dolls and the implications. The inexpensive doll was a decoy meant to fool baby snatchers. They were intended for people who already had babies – real parents. The model in her arms was a baby substitute. It was as real as it could be made to be, as real as it ever would be. It was meant for those who would never have children —
pretenders
.

In the girl’s eyes, Robyn was a pretender, as unstable as any woman who had tried to flee the store with a doll. And for those few moments in which she’d succumbed to her emotions over an animated piece of plastic, the girl was right. She felt pathetic. Why had she come? She knew why. She had come to relive the moments she’d held Kelsey’s baby in her arms pretending it was her own. She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh that caught in her throat. She dropped the doll to the floor and strode out of the store into the cold street doing all she could to hold back tears.

On the platform waiting for the tube, Robyn spotted a mother clutching her baby. She moved in behind for a better look and to be on the same car. Once inside, she took a seat facing them. The woman was young, younger than Robyn by a few years, and her clothes bore no advertisements. Money: that was the only explanation. No woman that young could afford a child if her family wasn’t wealthy. If her baby was taken, it could easily be replaced. What was the old saying,
no pain for the privileged
?

What if at the next stop the child was plucked from its mother’s arms? If timed properly, the doors of the tube would close before anyone reacted and before an image of her face could be picked up on the net. An alert would go out immediately mobilizing Security Services, but Robyn knew the city well. If she went to the nearest building and traveled on the upper floors, crossing from one building to the next by sky bridge, she could walk home without being caught. There were only so many security agents and they couldn’t cover everything.

In her head it was all a daydream, a what-if. But when she thought it over, she realized she had accounted for everything. The only thing keeping her from making the baby hers was nerve, nerve enough to put the plan in action.

The baby stirred, its head arching back as it yawned. Robyn thought it was a girl, though there was no way to be sure. Dark hair, bronze skin, and a full mouth reminded her of Moyer. Small hands reached out and the baby bleated softly. The sound fanned an ember of need within Robyn. Such a large responsibility might be too much for such a young girl. Robyn would be doing her a favor.

Robyn’s eyes drifted up. The baby’s mother was watching, her face tense with concern as if she had been in Robyn’s head the whole time and heard her plotting. Robyn feigned innocence with a smile. The girl stood and moved closer to the door.

As the tube slowed, the young mother rose, joining others in the aisle waiting for the doors to open. Robyn thought of following to see where she lived. At first she chalked it up to harmless curiosity. She was merely confirming her assumptions concerning the girl’s financial status. But she knew there was nothing harmless about it.

An older man seated at the front of the car spotted Robyn. Disapproval registered in his eyes. Robyn didn’t know how long he’d been observing, but perceived from his expression that the old man knew. Shame weakened her resolve. Robyn stayed in her seat and waited for the doors to close. The young mother scurried up the steps to the exit, glancing behind her, scared.

As the tube rumbled toward the next stop, Robyn fought the urge to visit the Hogan-Perko website, and the urge to cry.

Moyer returned home from work whistling a tune as he walked through the doorway. Robyn sat waiting on the sofa, a flock of balled up tissues clustered on the coffee table like geese on a pond. Her eyes still burned despite shedding her last tear an hour before.

Moyer cut the song off mid-note. “What’s wrong?”

In a voice firm and resolute, Robyn said, “You are calling Petro to find out how they got their baby.”

“What?”

“They are the same age as us, and Lord knows you’ve been at Digi-Soft longer than he has. You are calling him to find out how they managed it.”

Moyer floundered for a moment. “I-I-I won’t.”

Robyn glared at him, the withering heat of her anger radiated from her green eyes like argon lasers. Moyer was so gutless; at times she questioned what she ever saw in him. “Why not? He’s your friend,” she said. “Somehow they’ve found a way when we can’t. Get on the net and ask him how they did it.”

“Their finances are none of our business. I won’t. I work with the man.”

Robyn’s face went slack as her mind drifted from the room. The scene inside the apartment receded as she crept onto the net. From what seemed the end of a long hallway, Moyer’s voice called to her. “What are you doing?”

“What you don’t have the balls to do,” she called back. “I’m talking to our friends.”

A window rushed into her consciousness and opened into an apartment similar to hers. She announced herself as she took stock of what she could see. Petro was nowhere in sight. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time?”

“No,” Kelsey said. “Petro is still at work and Brooke is taking a nap. I finally have a moment to myself. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to thank you for coming over for dinner and for bringing Brooke. She’s a jewel. She makes me want a child that much more. I hope this isn’t too personal, but how did you and Petro afford a baby? I mean Petro and Moyer work at the same company doing similar work, and we’re still years away. I was just curious.”