WetWeb (14 page)

Franklin listened to Anand, but did not understand his message.  Franklin sensed there was something wrong, even sinister in the death of Blanco,
in
the sudden appearance of Molly
, and in that s
omething
that was
watching him from the dark places on his street.  He was looking to Anand for answers, but Anand was speaking in riddles.

Franklin stood to leave.

“You don’t understand what I am saying
,
” Anand
declared
, “Quite right, quite right.  Go home
-
go deal with your Warmbot issues.”

Franklin paused.

“I will see you
the
day after tomorrow
,
” Anand concluded politely.

Anand
stood and
then
exited the interview room by the door leading back into the prison.  Franklin watched as the Warmbot guard
,
who was waiting outside the door
,
escort
ed
him down the hallway.  Through the thick glass
of the small window in the door,
Franklin watched as Anand and the guard grew smaller,
and
reced
ed
into a world that Franklin did not know and could not enter. 
Franklin watched Anand’s distorted form until he
turned a corner and
was
out of sight.

* * * * *

Franklin
left
through the visitor door behind him.  He passed through the prison security protocol and then
went
past the security gates
,
and finally exited the prison.  Franklin stepped into the night air.  The night was bright, lit by a full moon that filled the scene with a dim luminescence.  People and shapes looked fuzzy in the half dark as if reality was out of focus or obscured by an invisible fog
-
a fog that was just now beginning to lift.

The entrance of the prison which had looked so familiar this morning now looked strange.  Franklin searched to get his bearings.  He made his way to the street and joined a small group of people standing in a
s
kimmer taxi queue.  Looking down the line, he realized the people in line were all Synapse
h
osts who were here on behalf of content men who were controlling them remotely.  They were probably all being used to interview Al McKnight.  The content men had long since Synapped off
,
and the hosts were talking about inane and meaningless things that people who have no personal context talk about
,
or they were simply standing idly by, waiting to catch a
s
kimmer
t
axi back to their college dorm or apartment.

Franklin felt smug
around the hosts, in
that he was getting the better story.  McKnight
was
trying to re-write his legacy
,
and was probably filling these content men with bluster and half
-
truths.  Anand was telling Franklin the real story of the WetWeb.  When Franklin’s feature is published it will become a sensation
,
and the other content features based on Al McKnight’s version of the history
,
will seem flawed in comparison.  Franklin was getting the truth, and the public loved content, real content. 

Eventually
,
it was his turn and he squeezed into the skimmer taxi. On his ride home he did not review his notes as he normally did.  Instead he stared out the window at the dark blue and purple shapes that sped past.  His mind attempted to register each object as its form materialized out of the dark, sharpening only briefly
,
and then disappearing again as the skimmer sped past. 

“There’s a sign
.  T
hat’s a tree
.  That’s
a skimmer,” he checked them off in his mind
as they passed by,
“There’s a person walking, or is it a Warmbot?”  He looked intently, and then it was past and new shapes appeared.

Franklin’s interview with Anand today had left him unsettled, but he did not know why.  As the skimmer proceeded noiselessly north towards Sacramento
,
he brooded. 

The shapes passing by him in the world outside his skimmer window seemed unrecognizable. The longer he looked out the window, the more he felt he was moving through a landscape that was foreign.  As if
he
were
excluded from the world outside.  He was an observer, but not a participant.  Eventually Franklin grew tired.  He closed the window
in the
skimmer taxi
,
so
as to block the strange images that emerged from the dim light of the full moon.  He settled back into the seat and forced dark thoughts from his mind.  Eventually, he dozed, and in his half sleep
he
was beset with
images drifting through his thoughts.  He
saw
an image of Dolly greeting him at the door.  She
was
smiling and content.  She
was
proud of his accomplishments as a popular content feature author. Then, there
was
an image of Molly, his new Warmbot. It
was
dusting and cleaning.  Then it
w
is
turning down the bed. It looks back at him and its emotionless face stare
d
into his mind.  Watching more than his movements, Molly
was
watching his thoughts.

Franklin dozed.  The skimmer bumped
,
crossing a pothole in the off ramp as it exited the highway
, jolting
Franklin
from his sleep
. 

Franklin opened the window shade and could see the skimmer was only a few blocks from his home.  His misgivings over Molly and Blanco were amplified by
proximity and immediacy.  He felt he was about to re
-
live the encounter with the dark watcher across the street.  As the skimmer continued forward, bringing him inexorably closer to his street and to his home, his anxiety continued to mount
-
Blanco, Molly, Dolly
,
and Something watching him from the dark.  Franklin recalled Anand’s words
.  There was
something he had said when Franklin was leaving the interview.

Anand had said,
“This is not a pulp feature that you made up.  This i
s a glimpse into the real world; a
world in which you live.”

As the skimmer glided closer to his house, Franklin’s misgivings evolved into a blinding fear.  This was something that he could not explain, but nevertheless, Franklin was not ready to walk onto his dark street
and he certainly
was not ready to enter his dark home.

“Stop!”
Franklin blurted out, surprising himself. 

“Stop, let me out,” he repeated.

The skimmer taxi hesitated, then slowed, then stopped.  Franklin paid the fare to the Warmbot driver without comment and then exited.  He stepped onto the unknown sidewalk and then he watched as the Warmbot driver pulled away.  He continued to watch as the lights of the Skimmer receded into the dark street
,
and then turned a corner
.  He watched until it
was gone.  Now he was alone.  He was alone and he was outside of his routine. 

“If Anand thinks I am a character in his story, then here is a chapter that he did not expect
,
” Franklin thought to himself.

Franklin could not explain his reaction.  He did not know why he was here or what he would do next, but he felt he was striking out in an original direction.  He felt certain that he was on a new path, and this was a path he intended to follow. 

Franklin looked down the empty street and he saw houses and trees.  If he went this way, he would find his way to his house.  He looked in the other direction.  In this direction he would be going back towards the highway.  Here was a new path.  This was the way he wanted to go.

Franklin started walking towards the highway.  He did not have a plan.  He did not have a destination.  He did not think about where he would go.  He did not think about what he would find.
 
As he walked along the sidewalk, he noticed a cat scampering across his path and then out into the street.  The bright moonlight illuminated its eyes and made the white parts of its fur glow.

“A cat
,
” Franklin said out loud.

He was thinking that perhaps it was a cat that startled him last night when he was standing in front of his house.  This seemed like a plausible explanation.  As he walked, he grew more confident, thinking that his strange encounter at his doorstep was nothing more than a cat and an over active imagination. 

Franklin crossed under the highway.  As he walked, he listened to the quiet humming of the late night skimmer traffic.  To his right, he could see the lights of a bright modern Coffee Café.  Through the wide windows, he could see there was a large group of customers inside
.  They were
sitting at small tables
,
or standing in line in front of the counter.  Behind the counter, a Warmbot was steaming milk
,
and another was working the cash register.  The queue of customers at the counter reminded him of the
S
ynapse hosts that he had seen in the
s
kimmer taxi queue in front of the prison.  These Coffee Café customers were probably all Synapse hosts who had completed a day of serving as the eyes, ears
,
and voice of state representatives and lobbyists who worked in the Sacramento government district.  The
politicians controlled
them remotely
,
so they could avoid flying into the capital.  It was more convenient to simply rent a local Synapse host and perform the duties of the state from the comfort of the Synapse
s
uit that was located in their home office.
 
The people that rented their bodies out as Synapse hosts, gathered here at the end of the day, to drink warm coffee and recover from their unconscious exertions.

Looking at the crowd standing inside the Coffee Cafe, Franklin again heard the words from Anand Ramasubram
an
ian. 
They
Echo
ed
in his mind like a warning
-
like a prophecy.
 

Franklin heard Anand saying, “The WetWeb touches you and all the people around you.  The WetWeb is integrated into your society.”

Franklin turned left.  He instinctively wanted to move away from the Coffee Café.  As he walked along, he noticed that he was now entering an older part of Sacramento.  As he walked, he observed that many of the buildings he was pass
ed
had
becom
e
dilapidated.  He walked past a gas station that had never converted to
s
kimmer fuel.  The old fashioned gas station had a wire mesh fence along the perimeter with signs affixed to the fence that said
,
“Keep Out” and “No Trespassing.” 

Franklin walked past shops
, and as he did so, he
looked into their darkened windows.  He could see only his own reflection in the glass.  He walked past a
t
attoo parlor and a hamburger stand.  All the businesses on this street were closed.  But
,
the moon was shining brightly on this quiet street, so he kept walking.

From down the street, walking towards him from the opposite direction
,
he could see a tiny figure slowly growing in size as
it
grew nearer to
him
.  Soon he perceived a feminine form.  As they continued to grow closer together, the lady walking towards him became more distinct.  In the bright moon light, Franklin could see her
clearly
,
she was
now half a block away.  But
,
before he was close enough to say
,
“Good Evening,” she turned and stepped through a door. 

When Franklin got to the same spot some moments later
,
he could see it was an old style bar.  Red curtains on the windows blocked any view into the interior.  A sign on the outside depicted a cheerful Chimneysweep holding a brush in one hand
,
and he seemed to be cheerfully whistling a tune.  The bar seemed inviting. 
It was
very much the opposite from the Coffee Café that he had observed some blocks back.  Franklin grabbed the handle of the door and pulled, swinging the door open wide. He stepped in.