Why Me? [ONC 2021]

6. The Surprise

I waved away this silly notion that Samar had put forward. What nonsense. "Are you joking? Are you trying to say my Dad is-"

"Possibly a couple of centuries old. Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying," said Samar.

"Too many movies," I laughed. "And too many conspiracies. You need to go outside of your apartment sometimes too. Even if you just went downstairs to the communal area that would be better than being in here all day long," I said trying to sound kind.

"I go out," he said, feigning hurt feelings with a pouty face. "Sometimes," he laughed.

We both laughed, this was exactly what I needed tonight after the weird event this afternoon.

The graying face of Dead Guy as he breathed his last is something I'll never be able to forget. His finger pointing at me, willing me too help him, to maybe save him. I shuddered at the thought and looked over to my only friend.

Samar had started to nod off to sleep, a beer bottle drooping dangerously in his hand; threatening to spill the liquid within. I sprang to my feet and caught the bottle just before it fell. Samar didn't even notice. In those few seconds he'd fallen into a deep, drunken sleep. There was a blanket draped over the back of his chair, which I gently teased out from under him and then covered him with.

I am back to my chair and slumped into it. The holo projector was still on, despite the fact we'd stopped the movie itself a while ago. "Holo off," I said as quietly but firmly as I could. Samar snored in response.

My tablet in my bag was chirping, this would be the police calling to report on my apartment. "Okay, okay," I said at the insistent noise. After fishing out the tablet, I stared at it contemplating whether I should answer or not.

It took me a moment of staring to realise the caller was not the police. The caller's number was withheld in fact. Caller anonymity was outlawed, mainly to prevent spurious cold-calling or prank calling. I had always thought that all devices were set to provide caller details when you made a call, and you could not turn it off.

The green check mark, for answering calls, and the red cross, for reject, both wiggled and danced to each chirp. "Stuff it," I said, mostly to myself, and I hit the check mark.

"Hello," I said.

"Gordon, is that you? Your vid is off," said an unfamiliar female voice. The irony did not escape me; she hadn't turned on video either.

"Yes, vid is off. On purpose. Just like you. Who is this?" I asked.

The screen went from a dark green with a faceless head-and-shoulders icon to the face of my mother.

"Mum? But you're-" I started.

"Gordon, there's no time for this. I don't have long. Run. Run as fast as you can. Ditch any tech. But write down this number," she said.

She showed a scrap of paper with a hand written number on it. I scrabbled for a pen from my bag and wrote the number onto my palm.

"What is going on?" I asked as I wrote.

"Not on here. Find an old phone, there's one in the Museum of Tech downtown. It still works, just dial," and she ended the call.

I couldn't put the tablet down. My mind raced. It had been three years since my mother had died, but there she was on screen. As large as life. Larger. It was surreal this feeling of anger and elation running through me. If she wasn't dead, why had it taken so long for her to get in touch.

Then the thought hit me, who was in the coffin at her funeral?

"You gonna eat that or hug it?" Samar said.

"Huh?" was all I could manage.

"Your tablet, you're staring at it like it's a juicy steak or something," he said. "If you're that hungry have some more of your pizza." He laughed a little.

"I was going to call the police," I stuttered, "to get an update on my apartment." My voice cracking as I spoke, so I cleared my throat.

"Leave it to the morning, man. They may be robots but you're not. I'm off to bed. You can have the spare room," said Samar as he left to room. He was rubbing and stretching his neck as he left.

"Yeah, you're right. They'll probably call me anyhow," I said.

I then went to the spare room and hunted out a piece of paper. There were none in the room, so I went back to the living room and tore a chunk off one of the pizza boxes. Back in the spare room I carefully chopped the number from my palm.

Samar rattled about for a few minutes, getting ready for bed, and I waited for the best time. While I waited I turned off my tablet and put it back into my bag. My mother had said to ditch it, but I could do that. This was literally all I really had.

Back at the apartment was all my clothes and my furniture, obviously, but my tablet was everything else. Without that I had nothing.

After around an hour I crept out of the room and checked the living room. Samar was nowhere to be seen. I listened at his bedroom door and over light, easy-listening music I could hear deep breathing and the odd snore trekking me that Samar was asleep.

I picked up another pizza box and wrote a quick message to my friend.

Samar, my friend. Got to rush. I'll be in touch soon. Thanks for the pizza and the beers. You're amazing as ever.
G.

I then quietly left.