EPISODE 10
Kurt suppressed a yelp when his ankle scraped metal. That damn equipment was everywhere! He moved his other foot forward cautiously, feeling for obstacles. If he stepped on one of the sleeping cyberfelines, he would have a lot of explaining to do.
He breathed more easily once he had negotiated the hall from his bedroom. The lights from the city illuminated the living room and kitchen. Good thing he had never been able to afford blackout drapes.
The cybercats' machine was pulsing with a gentle green light. The black and white tech cat was still wired into the system. Its external sensors were shut down during the interface, but its staring eyes seemed to be looking right at Kurt, reproaching him for his betrayal.
Two other cats, part of the contingent that had been coming and going, were sprawled on the floor, each with a paw fastened to a power bar, blinking red eyes indicating that they were recharging.
Megatrex would blow this mess up, Kurt thought. They couldn't follow me then. Unfortunately, I'm fresh out of explosives. That was just as well. Even if General Ajax and Einstein turned out to be bad guys, he had developed a certain affection for them. After all, they had been roomies for three weeks. So what if he had to do without TV or video games and wrestle his couch onto the balcony to make room for their equipment: that wasn't grounds for the death penalty.
General Ajax was lying on the kitchen counter in rest mode. Kurt gently lay the apartment keys in front of his nose, and oozed towards the door. It opened noiselessly -- he had lubricated it with graphite before he went to bed. Kurt eased himself out, holding his duffle bag steady in front of him.
The lock clicked when he pulled the door shut. Kurt held his breath while he listened. There was no reaction from inside.
Kurt exhaled and tiptoed to the elevator. He was on his way to Saskatchewan at last.
All the loose ends were tied up. The apartment lease had been transferred to Mr. Cy Katts, sight unseen, with the help of a three hundred dollar bribe to Albert, the building manager. For a couple hundred extra, Albert had supplied the tenant's signature on the papers himself. Rent and utility payments were pre-authorized from one of the bank accounts controlled by General Ajax.
Kurt had left his job, discouraging further contact by announcing that he was moving to Montreal. He had been smuggling some of his personal items from the apartment to the Trekker every day. The cash stash in the Trekker's glove compartment had grown to over three thousand dollars. His bank account was closed and his library fines were paid in full. There was nothing left to do but drive away.
The parking lot beside the apartment tower was dark and deserted. Kurt checked his watch under a street light. Ten to four. He could afford to take his time. General Ajax always shut down shortly after midnight and sprang into active mode precisely at five. By then, Kurt and his Trekker would be at the ferry terminal.
Kurt opened the rear hatch and slid his duffel bag on top of the pile of stuff he had managed to salvage from the apartment without arousing suspicion. At least he wouldn't be coming home completely empty-handed. He had folded down the back seats to make room for his camping equipment, his outerwear, and his CDs. Most of his clothes were in a dirty green hockey equipment bag with a broken zipper. He had managed to rescue his boombox before Einstein dismantled it. His Gamestation had been assimilated into cybercat technology, but he was ready for the next generation anyway. All that really mattered was that he had more than enough cash to get him home.
He slammed the hatch down. It popped up again. He slammed harder, then realized that one of the straps of the hockey bag was caught in the lock. He pushed the strap out of the way and tried again. His hands were shaking.
Get a grip, he told himself sternly, and started the twelve-times table. After a minute of concentration, he snapped the hatch down with just the right amount of force, and the lock caught.
Kurt slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. Cynthia's cell phone was still lying on the passenger seat where he had tossed it. He longed to phone her, hear her dispassionate yet strangely sexy voice once more. He needed to vent, tell someone that he had enough of the scheming and counterscheming, that he was getting out. But her number had faded from the back of his hand long ago.
"Damn you, Cynthia," he said out loud, picking up the phone to toss it into the trash barrel. Then he reconsidered and stuffed it into his glove compartment. It might come in handy if he was ever able to afford a service contract.
He eased out of the parking lot and turned towards the first set of lights. He turned on the radio and started singing along with the music. Let Cynthia and Melissa work out their own problems. He was on his way home.
Two lights later, he stopped singing in mid-note. Instead of turning towards Sidney, he had automatically turned towards the strip mall where he had last seen Melissa.
He had been there every day since General Ajax and his cohorts took over his apartment, buying a large cappuccino at the Coffee Stop, cruising through the housing development, then continuing through the neighbourhood in ever-widening circles. The children had come to know his Trekker, and would pause in their play to greet him with a wave and a sad shake of the head.
Kurt considered reversing course, then shrugged. The first ferry of the day left Schwartz Bay at eight. There was no reason for him to sit on the parking lot for three hours. A cappuccino would be just the thing to get the day started properly. He was yawning already.
Once he picked up his drink, it seemed natural to make his usual tour of the neighbourhood. Felines were nocturnal -- maybe he would have a better chance of finding Mel while it was still dark. Despite everything, he still thought of her as a real cat.
After an hour of cruising, he parked at the little playground near the Coffee Stop and shut off the engine. He rolled down the driver's side window. If he started yelling Melissa's name at this hour in the morning, he would probably be arrested; but there was no harm in his remaining here quietly for a few minutes.
She will come to you, Cynthia had said. Cynthia was a liar, but he couldn't help clinging to the absurd hope that she was telling the truth for once. Mel had probably found her way back to her underwater base long ago. But there was no harm in waiting just a little longer . . . just a little longer.
He awoke with a start. The sun was shining warm on his face, and children's voices chattered like a flock of birds in the distance.
He looked around wildly, trying to remember where he was and what he was doing here. Then a soft Mrrr and a push against his hand made everything else irrelevant.
"Melissa!"
He didn't allow himself the blissful distraction of touching her. He started the engine with shaking hands, scanning the neighbourhood for potentially hostile cyberfelines. "Let's get out of here, baby. They'll be looking for us."
Melissa was back. And nobody was going to take her from him this time.
Will Kurt and Melissa make it back to Saskatchewan? Before you look for the answer, please vote for this part.
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Cyberkatz 1999
Science Fiction1999: Internet was new technology; virtual reality was in its infancy; phones were not as smart as they are today. While people worried about the transition to the next millennium, the world was quietly being taken over by ... cybernetic cats? K...
