The Man Who Ended the World (21 page)

I haven't either, Henry says. Did you think I had? 

Well, no, she replies. But you've at least played guns before, right? Have you ever shot a real one? 

My parents don't like guns, Henry says. But my grandpapa has a ranch -- had a ranch -- in east Texas, and they let me visit him there two summers back. I guess they knew he wasn't going to have many years left. He died after I came home. I hope I didn't waste his last time. 

You didn't, Clarissa says. He probably had the best time with you ever.

Henry smiles. Well, he had a bunch of guns. And he picked out one just for me, and he told me that even though I couldn't take it home, it was mine any time I came to visit. It was just a little shotgun. I think it was called a .410. I don't really know what that means, but it was kind of a rinky-dink shotgun. Not like in the movies when someone has a shotgun and it's like a cannon. Anyway, I shot it a bunch of times. Mostly at squirrels.

Did you kill any? Clarissa asks.

Henry hesitates. I wasn't a very good shot. 

Oh, great, she says. 

Hey, I thought you were all animal-rights activist. I thought you'd be
glad
I missed the damn squirrels. 

Well, not now I'm not! she exclaims. Right now I wish you were some crazy bloodthirsty redneck hunter kid! I wish you were wearing a big scary knife on your belt and that you had a headband and black marks under your eyes!

Shhh, Stacy says. We're almost there. 

Charlotte climbs the staircase ahead of them. 

At the top, Henry says, Hold up. 

They wait. He pulls off his T-shirt.

What are you doing? Clarissa says. 

Henry grabs the shirt on either side of the left shoulder seam and pulls as hard as he can. With a ripping sound, the sleeve tears away. He repeats this for the right shoulder, and pulls the shirt back on, now sleeveless. 

What the -- Clarissa starts.

Henry tears the two sleeves in half, which is much harder than it should be, he thinks, then knots them together into one long strip. He lifts the strip to his forehead, then ties it off behind his head. 

Better? he asks. 

Clarissa's eyes well up. Better, she says. 

Well, don't cry, he says. 

But aren't you nervous? Aren't you scared? Isn't this supposed to make you a man? Couldn't it go wrong in like two hundred ways? she asks. 

Henry opens his mouth, but Stacy interrupts.

Henry is already a man, she says. 

Then she opens the door to the panic room.  

The Murder

The panic room is mostly untouched by the outages and failures that have begun to plague the rest of the station. Henry notices that it's a little muggy in the room, but the lights are bright, the electronics all seem to be working, the holomap is working, and --

The map, he says, pointing. We turned it off when we left. 

Shit, shit shit shit, Clarissa says. He's here, oh god, he's --

He's not here, Stacy says through Charlotte's lips. Look. 

She's right, Henry says, looking beyond the map. 

The hydraulics that power the armory elevator are fully extended, like a huge, oily, metal stalactite that has oozed all the way to the floor. 

He's up there, Clarissa says quietly. 

Yes, Stacy says. 

I kind of thought we'd figure out where he was, like in his library or someplace, and have to plan all these crazy details for how to get to him, Clarissa says. But he's just up there. 

They cross the room, passing the holomap. Mr. Glass's beacon has vanished from the floating blueprints. As they walk by, Clarissa drags her fingers through the virtual map. It spins in a big, lazy circle, the particles reforming the lines that her fingers have interrupted. 

Henry, Stacy says.

I'm ready, Henry says, touching the gun on his hip. 

•   •   •

Clarissa has fallen asleep on Henry's knees. Charlotte sits beside him. They are hidden behind the kitchen cabinets, waiting for their mark. 

Stacy, Henry says. 

Charlotte looks at him. What is it, Henry? 

That story I told Clarissa about my grandpapa, he says. It was only sort of true. My grandpapa had a lot of guns, but he never let me shoot them either. I think I was just a bother to him that summer. He was pretty sick, and didn't have much time for me. 

Sometimes a lie is more courageous than the truth, Stacy says. 

Charlotte pats his shoulder. 

What if I miss? Henry asks. What if I can't pull the trigger? That room up there is full of bigger guns than the one I took. What if he has one? 

Stacy says, Mr. Glass has no reason to carry a gun. For all he knows, he is the only occupant of this facility. 

Henry looks guilty. I think he saw us. 

Stacy regards Henry quietly. When? 

It was the day that he killed you, Henry says. When you told us to hide in Rama. He came in there and almost caught us in the open. But we hid in the grass. 

Did he see you then? 

No, Henry says. It was later. He seemed distracted. He was acting -- I don't know, almost like an animal. You know how animals have, like, power displays? Like when a gorilla beats his chest at you, or when a couple of deer fight with their antlers? 

I understand the concept, Stacy says.

He was behaving like that. He was like a dog marking his territory, except in more ways than one. 

When did he see you? 

He was kind of close to us, so we crawled towards the trees. He was kind of busy with other things then, so we ran for it. But I looked back, and I saw him kind of flinch and then run towards the elevator door. I think he saw us. Does he know we're here? 

It's possible, Stacy says. 

But our little dots weren't on that map. 

I fail-safed that protocol after the day Mr. Glass took me offline, when he almost caught you right here in this room, Stacy says. Disabling me would not reactivate your beacons. But if he physically observed you, then it may not matter if you don't appear on the map. 

Do you think he knows we're coming after him? 

I do not believe he thinks quite like that, Stacy says. 

But he could be armed, Henry says. 

Yes, Stacy replies. He could be. If he is, you must strike first. 

I'm scared, Henry says. 

I understand the concept, Stacy says. Fear can motivate as well. 

You don't think he knows we're here? 

The only way he could detect you, short of walking into a room and witnessing your presence, would be to engage the facility's motion sensors, Stacy says. The holomap serves far many more purposes than simply displaying a person's biorhythmic signature and location. It can also be used to detect motion on any level. It doesn't appear he has engaged this. I conclude that you are, for the moment, undetected. 

Henry exhales in relief. I'm still scared. 

You asked what would happen if you could not pull the trigger, Stacy says. 

Yeah, Henry says worriedly.

You are aware that I have spent many hours studying recorded media? 

Huh? Henry says. I don't --

Mr. Glass accurately referred to me as an actor once, Stacy says. When he programmed me, he gave me certain protocols and responsibilities. He desired an A.I. who would be as human-like as possible, as he expected to pass many years in that A.I.'s company. To that end, I have aggregated the sum of human recorded media -- news broadcasts, films, lectures, musical performances, televised content, written documents -- and become familiar with the manner in which humans confront certain scenarios. 

Henry says nothing, waiting. 

Understanding these things allows me to form a passably human persona, Stacy says. A sort of character by which I can state opinions that a computer cannot hold, or express bias or pass judgment on various topics. This is the reason I am able to tell a joke, or take a political position. 

Okay, Henry says. 

All of that leads me to say this, Stacy says. When you see Mr. Glass's face, picture the face of your father, and your mother, and your sister. Focus on the things that have been taken from you. Remember the pain of that loss, the unfairness of it. And if that is not enough to drive you to action, then multiply it for the losses of every child who lived and died, every family torn apart, every innocent friend and pet who --

I get it, Henry interrupts. I can do it. 

Okay, Stacy says. With Charlotte's hand, she takes Henry's. That's good.

You know, says Henry, you're scary good at that. 

I've put in the time, Stacy says. 

•   •   •

Charlotte shakes Henry awake. 

It's time, Stacy says. 

Henry starts awake. He's a little disoriented, a little stiff from the nap. Clarissa is heavy on his knees. 

Calm, Stacy says. Charlotte's hand presses to Henry's face. Calm.

Clarissa wakes up then. What's going --

She goes quiet then, hearing the low hum of the hydraulic lift in motion.

Henry turns on his knees and peers over the counter top. The large segment of floor is slowly descending, the hydraulic pillar telescoping shut beneath it. 

Breathe, and draw your bead confidently, Stacy says to Henry. 

Clarissa peers over the counter beside him. 

Move away from me, he whispers, and both Charlotte and Clarissa slide back to give him room. 

But the angle is terrible, and will only improve when Mr. Glass has almost reached the panic room floor. Henry doesn't want to give him the chance to rush in or run away, so he changes his position. He gets up and walks, pistol extended, to the edge of the kitchen. From here, he can see Mr. Glass, strangely small, standing at the north end of the platform. 

Henry aims the pistol, sighting down his arms and trying to center the gunsight on Mr. Glass's torso. He's trying his best to control his body's desire to shake, and doing an okay job at it. 

Mr. Glass is looking down at something in his hands when Henry pulls the trigger. 

Nothing happens. 

Henry nearly panics. 

The safety, Stacy says from behind him. Check the safety, Henry.

He does, and switches it off. 

The elevator continues to descend. 

Henry levels the pistol at Mr. Glass again. The man is still distracted by something he's holding, and doesn't yet see Henry. 

Henry pulls the trigger. 

The sound is deafening, and echoes like a thunderclap from one end of the panic room to the other and back again. The recoil stuns Henry, whose arms leap into the air, nearly overturning him. 

Clarissa screams. 

The bullet is off the mark, but it serves its purpose. 

In the fury of the moment -- the echo, the scream, the shock of other voices -- Mr. Glass jumps and throws himself to the side. He sees Henry, loses his balance, and to everyone's surprise, he lurches over the side of the elevator and drops like a boulder. 

Clarissa screams again. 

Henry runs forward, the gun hot in his hands. 

Charlotte stands up and follows. 

Mr. Glass is lying in a heap, his legs dangling over the edge of the floor and into the gap the elevator has left. He groans and swipes at his back. There's no blood -- Henry's shot clearly missed -- but there's something very wrong with the way the man's body is put together. 

Henry drops to his knees near Mr. Glass. 

Mr. Glass's torso seems almost broken, as if someone has grasped his shoulders and unscrewed him several turns. His arms are moving, scrabbling on the floor, fingers opening and closing like crab claws. 

My legs, he utters. Oh god. 

He sees Henry then, and then Charlotte comes into view, and in the blurry distance, he notices Clarissa. 

Not ghosts, he says, the lilt of a question in his words. 

Henry looks back at Charlotte. 

Stacy says, If they are ghosts, you made them that way. 

Stacy, Mr. Glass chokes. Stop it.

Stop what? she asks. 

Stop it, stop the stop the stop it please, he says, and then they all realize what he is talking about, because the elevator has reached the floor, and it grinds into place, Mr. Glass's legs crushed beneath the mechanism. 

His eyes flutter and dart, and his hands seize at the floor, and he opens his mouth and dies that way. 

The man who ended the world enters into that same history. 

The children upon whom the future rests stand nearby and watch the strength in his joints give, and his body settles into an almost comical position, a sort of
hey, what's up there
statement read in his angle of repose. 

Stacy says, That took more time than I expected. Children, we must replace that fuel cell before--

The power goes out, drenching the room in darkness. 

Clarissa's scream seems endless. 

The Future

Restarting the power was easy. 

Cleaning up the gory mess of Mr. Glass himself was more difficult, and Charlotte spared both of the children the obligation. Neither child asked what she did with the remains, though both thought back to the moment she explained how the solid oxide fuel cell system ran on a variety of sources, including the physical waste generated by a facility of this size. 

For two weeks, the children are employees of the space station, following Charlotte around and assisting her with the repair of the atmosphere generators on level two, the electrical fire on level three, replacing the broken light panels in the library, and a thousand other small things that have gone wrong during Mr. Glass's tenure as sole administrator of the complex. 

When the day comes to reactivate Stacy as the facility's A.I., Charlotte releases the children to get some sleep. Henry and Clarissa stretch out on the large, soft couches on level four, in Mr. Glass's living quarters. Charlotte takes a seat at the desk and is there for eleven straight hours, rewriting entire swaths of code. 

The children sleep for that long, and an hour more, and awake to the warm glow of Stacy's avatar on the ceiling above them, shining almost like the sun. The room is bathed in a soft yellow glow, like daybreak.