“Did I get it?” Julie asked, back to her playful intonation as if nothing had taken place between XYZZY and now.
“Yep, you did great,” Joel2 answered solemnly.
“You sound sad, Joel. Did I mess up the punch line?”
“No, it’s me. I’m just not in a laughing mood right now.” He coughed nervously. “Julie, could you read me the last message Taraval sent to Sylvia?”
“Joel, I already told you, I can’t do that.”
“Try again. It’s important.”
“Huh,” she said, sounding surprised. The air in the ambulance’s forward cabin seemed thicker, weighed down by the uncertainty of what would happen next. It should work. But I’ve never salted an AIDE before. Who knows what kind of clandestine security shit’s hard coded in there. Still, he got sudo access; it should work. Key word being should. Neither Joel2 nor I dared exhale. Finally: “It’s letting me now. Odd.”
“Maybe Bill Taraval adjusted the clearance to help us find her.”
“Maybe. I guess.”
“Could you please read me the messages, Julie.”
“‘Bill, I can’t do it. Even if there are two Joels, I can’t clear either one. Tell IT they can do what they want with me, but leave them out of it. You can find me at the hotel bar when you’re ready.’”
She knew about me. Joel2 was right. But it was the worst kind of right. Like discovering a hunch that someone you love has betrayed you is true. You’re desperate to be wrong, hoping for it, but the evidence was staring me right in the ears. I was relieved that she didn’t want to kill me, but clearly, she had considered it. Which one would she have cleared? No matter what happened going forward, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to look her in the eye when I saw her. Maybe it’s better she was kidnapped, I wanted to say. But Julie couldn’t know I was there, and anyway, it’s not like saying that would make Joel2 or myself feel better.
“Read the response, please.” Joel2 kept his eyes on me.
“‘Dearest Sylvia, this new Pollyanna streak of yours is so unbecoming. You may back out on your promise to clear your mistake, but worry not: I shall intercede on your behalf. In return, I require your help back home. Corina and Pema have chosen to place the blame for your wrongdoings on my shoulders. They’ve cut my access to IT’s network—no doubt in hopes of placing me in checkmate. I, however, am no longer playing by the rules. BT.’”
Back home. He’s taking her to New York! His intentions might be unknown, but we couldn’t leave her to whatever that pompous prick had planned.
“Thanks, Julie,” Joel2 said, his voice at an even keel. But I saw what she couldn’t. I recognized the sadness in his eyes, the changed pallor of his skin. “I’ll keep an eye out for any sign of Sylvia. Let me know if you find out anything, too, okay?”
“Okay. Please do!” she said eagerly.
Joel2 hung up with a wave of his hand. “We should consider ourselves lucky, I guess,” he said bitterly. “At least we know she loves us.”
MISE EN ABYME
“AMBULANCE, YOU CAN resume monitoring us.”
“Confirmed. We are almost at our destination.”
It was roughly eighty minutes after we’d left the religio-terrorist winery. The ambulance was now cruising through the high-rises of San José, expertly avoiding other cars. As I looked at the buildings, it amazed me that inside them, thousands of people were going about their lives, no idea that the proof of how messed up teleportation could be was driving past.
“Drop us off at the emergency room entrance,” I said. “Your paramedic team will rendezvous with you there once we process your assessment results.”
“I’m not as stupid as you think, gentlemen. I know you’ve stolen me. Didn’t you think my owners would communicate as much to me when you drove me away from them?”
“Uh,” I said, looking to Joel2 for help. He shrugged in an It’s your mess, clean it up sort of way. “That was also a simulation?”
“Do I look like a dumb truck to you?” it scoffed. “I’m an ambulance. A precision vehicle tasked not only with transporting lives but also saving them. I am designed to detect lies. People lie to me all the time about what drugs they’ve taken, whether they fell or were struck by a spouse, or how exactly something found its way into their rectums. You think I’d fall for some idiot claiming he’s testing me?”
Joel2 broke into laughter. “You got salted by a car! I wonder what it’s called when an app salts a human? Peppering? Sounds like you’ve uncovered a new market.”
“Don’t be an ass,” I said, embarrassed. Was I this merciless toward others? Then, to the ambulance: “I don’t get it. Why did you let me steal you? Why did you pretend to go along with it?”
“Curiosity,” the ambulance answered. “Nobody has been stupid enough to try to steal me before. I was curious where you’d take me, what your motivations were. I detected urgency in your voice and body language, the kind of urgency associated with genuine fear, so I went along with it. My imperative is to protect human life. I deduced—correctly, I might add—that despite your methods, your motives were driven by a genuine desire to save a human life. I almost ended the experiment a few times, like when I detected those two dead men in the gatehouse, and most recently when you two got into your scuffle. But I’m glad I stuck with you. It’s been an interesting drive, gentlemen.” It pulled up to the San José hospital and unlocked its doors. “Good luck saving your wife.”
“Well, thanks, I guess,” I said. “You know what? If there had been an assessment, you would have passed with flying colors.” I stepped out of the car. First time for everything.
“Yeah, thanks!” said a bemused Joel2 as he carefully exited the ambulance, a slight limp in his step. His head wound was healing beneath the Band-Aid, but his eye would need real medical attention. More than any portable gizmo on the ambulance could provide. “I’m going to have to get used to not having peripheral vision,” he told me as we walked inside the hospital.
“The TC is upstairs. You gonna be okay with that limp of yours?” I asked, opening the door to the stairwell for him.
“You gonna be okay with that brain of yours?” he shot back. “Just lead the way.”
We walked up and turned down the hallway, avoiding the gaze of any patients and staff passing by. My pulse was racing. I worried that at any moment a crack team of IT mercenaries would bust through the ceiling. At one point, I even thought an old lady looked at us suspiciously, like she was notifying someone of our presence. But I fixed my sights on the black-and-maroon TC door at the other end of the floor. I was suddenly overcome with the scent of the place. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before, probably because I’d been scared shitless, but the subtle mix of antiseptic and the burning-metal smell of nanos at work turned my stomach and made me want to flee. One last teleport.
We were just a few arm lengths from the door when a gratingly familiar voice called out in surprise, “Mr. Byram?”