The Code of Happiness (8 page)

It takes a security guard to rouse him back to the
present. He tells Jamie the story, about how some old guy freaked
and tried to burn down the house taking the street with it.
Inexplicable really. Jamie's hit in the gut, he knows it was 'his'
old man. Behind it all, the contemplative words, the well-adjusted
attitude to his life's downward spiral lay an old man's seething
resentment. Recalling the encounter, Jamie could hardly blame
him.

The guard has no such attachments. For him the up
shot was a chance to build something new and a job—and no one was
killed.

“Where did the people go?” Jamie asks.

“Somewhere, family, homes, wherever,” says the
security guard. He shrugs, “What can you do?”

Jamie thanks him, bothered and unable to expunge the
strange guilt he should have known, that taking a real interest in
another human being remained a distant realization for him. He had
spent years seeing people as facsimiles and was in danger of
passing through life uninvolved. Or was he? The appearance of the
code begged to differ. If only he could be a hundred percent sure
it wasn't the Feds. He would have to make contact but the very
thought paralyzed. If he took his lead from Beanoe he'd find the
confidence that comes with standing up for himself and saying he
hasn't done anything wrong. Let it seep into his spirit. Done
nothing wrong. Walk out of his front door the next morning head up,
not looking over his shoulder. Beanoe. Sometimes bullshit works. If
the FBI had grievance they would approach. He'd go to the obvious
first, Ray and Po. Booms ring out. Jamie slips on a mask. He'd
picked up a new one at the mart.

*****

Winter crispness promises the new. Pale blue skies, a
cold air pinching the bridge of his nose. There's confidence in his
step. Time to move beyond the spin of Ray.

He tells Po he doesn't want to be the man who breaks
promises. It's met with an apathetic dropping of her jaw. He
doesn't care if she thinks it's a lie. All peas in the same pod
now. He approaches their troublesome servers with his own black box
of magic tricks. He reassures her it's a sophisticated firewall
allowing him to peek at those snooping without detection—should, of
course, anyone be snooping. He doesn't tell her it also allows him
to pilfer data. Handyman Ray, whacko with the frizzy white hair
brings him peanut butter cookies. Conversation is kept to a
minimum. Hours he tells them, their equipment is old, patience is
needed. And if they don't mind, he has to hack their system. Ray
though, pokes. He always has to poke.

“Doesn't it carry a jail sentence?”

“Proprietary software, isn't it?”

Ray nods.

“
And I have your approval,” states
Jamie.

It's all fake smiles between them as they go about
their business. Ray and Po give the illusion of work to do in their
white lab coats.
No pressure Jamie, fix if you can, leave when
you want
. He runs a diagnostic. After three different tests no
errors are found. Unusual but it is weirdo central. He laments
he'll be there for hours after all, a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Worse, time will get the better of him and he'll be forced to make
small talk, at the least he's pulling data to analyze at home
without their knowledge.

More tea and peanut butter cookies, more chances to
converse. It's a dance between them. Ray sits with Jamie sipping
from fine bone china waiting for him to ask pertinent questions.
Ray's deliberate in a delicate reveal of skin burns on his forearm,
and Jamie's polite enough to ask with his eyes.

“Nasty accident when I was a kid,” says Ray.

Jamie won't fall for this ploy and pretends to
concentrate on the screen. On prior visits he wanted to know more
about this man, but now he struggles, however the anger from his
last visit last and the irritant thoughts before this current
encounter dissipate in Ray's presence. Jamie couldn't tell if it
was he or Ray who was the difference, a question to be answered,
how do we ever tell who is affecting whom?

“The
affectus transfigurantes,
” says Jamie,
“are you able to do it?”

“Generate,” replies Ray, “No.”

“Po?”

“No. No one you've met here can.” Ray can tell what
Jamie's going to ask next and beats him to it with an answer. “I
have seen and can see those who have the ability.” Ray follows it
with one of his all knowing smiles. “Portable scanners. Finding you
was random. Hard to believe, isn't it?”

“Hard to believe anything you say.”

“But you've come back, not once, but twice.” He pats
Jamie, understanding he's said enough and stretches his limbs. “The
scanners aren't accurate, so we had to bring you in.”

“So you wanted me to believe... in something you
can't do?”

“Tough job when you think about it.”

They're on an even keel. Ray seems content to let his
persuasion of Jamie to slide.

The man's a phenomenal liar, Jamie thinks. He's even
more detached and objective about the group. Still, focus must be
maintained. He has to find out why they're snooping on him.

“
I'm curious Jamie. It's obvious
there's no connection between us, and even you and Po. You see,
it's quite hard to believe you as well. You're the one working for
unpronounceable, the big bad corporation in the sky. And yet here
you are, fiddling on our machines, and doing what
exactly?”

It's funny, a tease, all very cat and mouse, an old
movie.

“
Then if that's the case,” Jamie
responds, “I should be scared. Do I look scared?”

“You know how deceptive looks can be in our
world.”

And with that both men adjourn.

An hour later. A moth flickers in the ceiling lights.
Jamie finds himself looking forward to the next cup of tea—and
interaction—when he notices the anomaly, a piece of code hidden and
encrypted in an innocuous directory. It looks like it’s been there
for years, collecting data and sending it onward. To where, he has
yet to discover. It's not the reason why their system is failing,
but is nonetheless alarming. The language is similar to what he saw
at home but frustrates him by re-encrypting. His heart drops. If
it's the same, or related, and nothing to do with The Source
Foundation, then it must be the Feds.

“Someone's watching you.”

“Who?”

“I don't know. Don't know the language. It'll take a
while to solve the encryption but for now I can do this.”

Jamie's lightning at the keyboard. The code
disappears.

“Glad you dropped by.”

“It's temporary. I'll run a program to loop the
disabling. No guarantee it'll work if they run auto roaches to undo
my work, but if someone's watching, they'll know.”

“Lets flush them out.”

“You're not bothered? It could be the Feds.”

“There's nothing I can do about it. Better to know
who it is.”

Jamie needs air, his head malfunctioning, his
certainty of Ray and Po's guilt collapsing before him. Not that
they're exonerated. No, he can't let them off. But there's another
player here. He sickens to a new realization; one so obvious he
wants to throw up.

“Is my information on there?”

“It's encrypted.”

“It can be decoded.”

“It'll be okay.”

“I like to know who's got my information.”

“Why? Someone after you?”

“Oh fuck off Ray.” Jamie takes a breath, needing a
second. “My dreams are on there—sorry desires. How the fuck do you
think I feel about that!”

Jamie's made his point but there's nothing Ray can
do. Jamie's desires have been pinched to be used against him in the
public sphere. A bargaining chip, humiliation waiting around the
corner, a life sentence dictating how he can behave and what he can
do. And he's had enough of it.

“There is another way,” says Ray, “think positive,
they may not have it yet.”

“Ray. They have it.”

“If they don't...”

“I can delete it?”

“Well, not quite short of destroying everything we
have. But there is a way.”

It's like going back in time. Hearing his
psychobabble again. Jamie knows he's going to hear this no matter
what. It's enough to make him hyperventilate. “Go on,” he says.

“Face the monster you created,” says Ray, “beat it
and it auto erases your first ionizer experience.”

“You're still big on that.”

“What else are you going to do—other than work for
Blaze?”

The out of context reference is a bulging red
flag.

“You know him?”

“We've met,” says Ray, “He'll recycle your old life
into your new.”

“Don't you do the same thing?”

Jamie's sharp today, the heightened sense of fear,
his world unravelling, giving him the edge he lacks on other
days.

“Excess is a lie,” says Ray.

Jamie's confused.

“Excess is a lie. A little thing I have. If you say
it fast enough. X X LI. Excess is a lie.”

“Well,” says Jamie, “He pays in excess.”

“Good to know. If I need a job.”

The pod of thoughts, dreams, and fantasies. Jamie's
back again. Going home was his initial preference but Ray and Po
convinced him, or played on his paranoia of being watched by the
Feds. Whatever they did, it worked. He would spend the night with a
cabinet of new- age books. One of the Source Foundations critics
mocked them as yet another form of bastardized Buddhism, taking all
the easy-to-get happiness Westerners wanted by clearing a path
through anything remotely challenging with a mile-wide bulldozer.
As bastardized as it may have been, they certainly got the bed
right. The strains and worries of the day melt away as he lies
down, his body rushing to sleep. Morning comes too soon.

He can't believe he's doing this. Jamie's dressed in
a white jump suit. Ray holds a visor and lectures similar
instructions prior to Jamie's first encounter in the ionizer before
releasing the headgear into Jamie's possession. He fusses; making
sure it's strapped tight. Po races past them with a covered blue
bucket, and Ray gives her the go ahead to pour the contents into
the far corner of the ionizer. Jamie's ready. As he steps inside to
face and destroy his monster, Ray tugs at his arm.

“Remember, it's more about who you are.”

The tug bothers Jamie. He's felt that buzz of energy
before and there's no time to ponder as bright lights blind him.
Inside the ionizer he's clueless to the role of Ray and Po outside.
Maybe he should have asked. For someone who was neurotic he was
capable of wild decisions, or just not asking the obvious. The
visor adjusts, allowing him to see, and he's glad it does. Buzzing
high voltage electrifies the air as the yellow slime forms a blob
then rises several feet in the air reshaping itself into an ogre.
Hair sprouts all over its body secreting translucent goo. Jamie
waits to see if this image of himself has some form of
consciousness. It's alive but its sight is lacking as it bangs into
the walls slopping sticky goo here and there. Jamie's fascinated by
this birth. Each movement and obstacle brings a new realization to
the ogre. And with each slip and crash the ogre's annoyance
increases. Jamie senses his frustration of not getting something
right, the thrashing in the blind. He also knows the collective
annoyance is going to be directed at him sooner or later. It's
Demon Keepers really. A couple of catfish bombs would give him a
good idea of how difficult an opponent the ogre will be. He delays
as long as possible wanting to give the ogre some sense of life, a
code of honor in his gaming world. As the ogre struggles toward
him, Jamie unleashes the bombs. To the ogre's horror they stick in
his hair enraging his inner beast. The bombs take a couple of
seconds to explode, and do no more than rock him back. The ogre
looks at the two balls of fire on his body and wipes them out
leaving two black patches. It appears a mundane attempt to do him
harm, not a game Jamie should play. The ogre fixes his eyes on him,
sight improving by the second. He stomps to his own beat, a war
dance to intimidate and charges the little human in front of him.
Jamie slides between the ogre's legs, and with massive machine guns
attached to each arm, fires incessantly. Hundreds of bullets spew
forth every few seconds. The sight is to behold. All the bullets
have stuck to the ogre's hair like bling. The ogre shakes himself,
the bullets, thousands of them, a hailstorm of tinkle on the floor.
Jamie's screwed. He whips out two glowing swords, his most trusted
weapons from the game. The ogre swipes and Jamie leaps high. As he
descends he plows each sword into the ogre's neck. Letting go,
Jamie slips and slides down the ogre's body until the sticky hair
catches his ankles and swings him upside down, his limbs stretched
out of their sockets, the pain beyond this level of existence.
Jamie meets darkness once again.

His eyes flutter open; the ogre's removing the swords
from his sticky hair. They didn't enter his neck. This confuses
Jamie. There must be a defect in the simulation. Jamie hasn't
realized yet, he's using old tools for old problems. New ideas are
needed. But Jamie's stuck in the past hanging upside down thinking
Ray wants to kill him. It's the only explanation he's prepared to
entertain for the ogre's survival so far.

The ogre, having removed the swords, turns his
attention to Jamie. He scrapes him off his body and slings the
human dressed in a white jump suit against the wall. The helmet
flies off and Jamie feels warm blood drizzle from his nose to his
lips. The ogre picks him up and flips him like a quarter, spinning
him close to unconsciousness again. Taking advantage of the
defenseless, he presses Jamie against the wall. They look deep into
each other’s eyeballs. Jamie's been there before, inside the gray
matter. He remembers the chickpea size view, the helplessness, the
near out of body experience. His fear subsides in recognition,
energy evaporating, his torso limp and calm. His body has realized
before his mind. He speaks to the ogre.