Analog SFF, May 2008 Read online

  "That just means that the law firms would own you, instead of this company. They'd be controlling the case completely. Your job would be to make them a lot of money, wouldn't it?"

  I couldn't deny that.

  "You either own yourself outright or you don't,” he said.

  "For a hundred million bucks, what do I care? The lawyers can own me."

  * * * *

  Lund scored. He found Tina's mom and made contact with her. She was married and living on a lake in Tennessee. She said she had not seen her daughter in over twenty years, and Lund believed her. He put a call in to a private eye in that area to make sure.

  Lund suggested I e-mail Tina again. She might be monitoring messages, and though she had ignored me before, if I sent just the right message, he said, she might be compelled to reply. I sent a secure message from one of those untraceable, single-use accounts. I indicated that we were ready to sue for hundreds of millions, and that we needed her here. Against my better judgment, I lied that her father was gravely ill. Lund was the expert.

  To my surprise, I received a reply within minutes.

  * * * *

  Jimmy ~ you are such a bad liar. Attached is my horror novel, the one I told you about. I would never have finished it without hiding out. I need you to try to sell it for me, so please promise you won't give up until it's published. Don't let the basturds tell you it's no good, because it is. Also, you should go ahead and sue the company without me. TTFE ~ T

  * * * *

  The attachment was a book called Malignance Aeterna by Christine Peshj. I couldn't focus on it long enough to make sense of it. Maybe it explained what “TTFE” stood for. The message had me really scared. I couldn't stand it, so I left work early and went by her place. With her book done, maybe she'd returned from wherever she'd been hiding.

  Her car was out front. I shuddered and my heart rammed at the inside of my chest. My little forming hands twitched in reflex. The door was locked, and Tina wasn't answering. I threw myself against the door until my hip practically broke, but it was made of metal, and I remembered the bolt and chain. So I broke a window around back, not caring that it was daylight. I climbed in, called out, and ran around like an idiot, not knowing where to start.

  The apartment was dark and musty. There were lights on, and the table in the breakfast nook was covered with junk mail. A few dishes sat in the sink, stained with spaghetti remnants, and there was a metallic purple handbag on a chair in the living room. I walked quietly into the living room, afraid to call out for some reason. Some of the lights were glowing on her theater set, but there was no picture or sound.

  "Tina?” I said, almost under my breath. More lights on in the bedroom, shining through a wide crack in the doorway. “Tina?” I had never been in her bedroom, and going in, I felt like I was violating something sacred.

  Then I heard a drip. Tina was in the bathroom, but all I saw was red. The sound of a thousand urgent voices rushed into my ears. It sounded like angry water, and I felt myself going over Niagara Falls.

  I woke up cold and shivering, my head light, sweat running from my forehead into my hair. The voices had faded to echoes. I tried to sit up, but nearly fainted again. I stayed down, in the bathroom doorway, afraid to look in.

  I spent the night there on the floor. In the morning, I called the police and crept out of the place, without looking in the bathtub again. The police arrived before I got away, and when they started questioning me, I felt strangely hungry and fainted again.

  * * * *

  Swami came by my office to offer his condolences. His electric wheelchair was pretty compact, but it didn't fit through my cube door. So he sat there, saying something expected, but not helpful. I felt trapped because he blocked the door. I could tell he wanted to talk about something but was uncomfortable bringing it up. He looked down, rolled his chair back and forth a few inches, then sighed through his nose.

  "Look, Jimmy,” he said, checking to see if the hall was clear. “How is it going with your target? You know the one I mean."

  I nodded and made eyes at the wall separating us from Kaitlin's cubicle. He nodded.

  "I'll come by,” I said.

  Later, after verifying the privacy of his office, I told him how the lawyers were now saying that I could still win my case easily, even without Tina to testify. Simply signing those papers in my condition, combined with the resulting legal situation, created a clear case of hyperownership by fraud. They were calling it slavery.

  "So you're going to sue?"

  "The only delay now is for the lawyers to determine whether Tina's parents have any grounds to sue also."

  Swami made a grim line with his mouth and nodded. “I guess I'd better start looking for another job, then."

  He was playing me, but I was too tired to fight him. “You really think the company will implode?"

  "Sure. That's the idea, isn't it?"

  "So what do you want me to do?” I said, raising my voice. “I've got these stupid arms growing back, everything will be just as bad as before, except that Tina is dead—not that anyone cares—and you want me to stand by while the company gets rich because of all that?"

  He just sat there looking stupid in front of all those posters of trees.

  "Either they own me or I own them,” I said. “You said as much yourself. And look what they did to Tina. Damn right I'm going to sue."

  * * * *

  When you're out for blood, you don't usually aim for the wound that bleeds the most. You take any and all of them.

  "After I get my settlement,” I told Tyler through the glass, “I'm going to put Good Fortune out of business."

  "No more cures discovered by accident?” he cautioned.

  "No more stolen tissues or patenting people's misfortune,” I said.

  "What about Swami's tree?"

  I exhaled impatiently through my nose. I didn't have an answer for that. Revenge on the company was revenge not on an organization, but on the people who worked there, and I really didn't think Swami's trees were complete crap. I'd found a few good targets myself, and that had felt good.

  "Tyler,” I said, heating up again. “These guys are to blame for what happened to your daughter. What would you suggest?"

  "It's too good an opportunity to pass up."

  * * * *

  I had an irrational hope that with my extra arms gone, Kaitlin might finally go out with me. Besides, there was something important I wanted to ask her.

  "No, thank you,” she said, pursing her lips in what was intended to be a polite smile but had nothing friendly about it.

  "It's just lunch,” I said.

  "Jimmy, I told you a long time ago that I'm not interested. How can I make that clear to you?"

  "News flash. I'm not asking you to lunch because I'm interested in you. We can go Dutch if you want.” Her expression fell into confusion. She probably didn't know whether to be happy or feel insulted. “There's something I want to run by you, and I can't do it here at work."

  "Is it about Tina?"

  Good guess. Not right, but close enough, if that would get her to say yes. I nodded.

  Her eyes scanned me like some kind of lie detector. “Okay,” she said.

  I decided to take her to a nearby diner, so she wouldn't think I had ideas of hauling her off somewhere. Our coworkers often went there, which should have made her feel safe. It made her nervous. I guess she didn't want to be seen out with me. I was nervous, too, keeping my jacket on so she wouldn't see the little bulges where my arms were growing back. Hey, I didn't have ulterior motives, but I wasn't against some ulterior outcome. The waitress came, smiled, and looked me over.

  "We're having a working lunch,” Kaitlin said hastily.

  I smiled in confirmation and we ordered. The waitress left, and Kaitlin got right to business.

  "So what's so important?” she said.

  "Actually, I want your advice."

  She just looked at me, waiting for me to speak, as if she wasn't even
going to offer pleasant conversation.

  I'd shown interest in Kaitlin for a long time and asked her out several times before. She could be chatty with me, but never on a personal level. Mostly it was always about some crazy target someone came up with or other work stuff. I remember once when I'd fooled myself into thinking that she did like me, only to realize that she only wanted some images of a target I'd found, in order to make a funny greeting card out of them. Something about a shriveled Easter rabbit with no fur. Now I was finally having a kind of date with her, and I felt like a bag of ice.

  "Do you think it's right,” I said, “for someone to sue the company they work for?"

  "I don't know. What are you talking about?"

  "I can't say exactly, but suppose the company makes a ton of money by exploiting an employee? Several employees."

  "Of course they should sue."

  "That's what I thought too. But my friend, who works at this dump, is afraid he'll put it out of business."

  "So what?"

  That was too easy.

  "You don't look happy,” she said. “Isn't that what you wanted to hear?"

  "Maybe not. I guess I've slanted the story, and I really wanted an honest answer."

  She frowned at me, and her voice became low and deliberate. “How do you honestly expect me to give you an honest answer when I don't know what you're talking about?"

  "You're right.” I made a conciliatory study of my lap. “It's just that I can't tell you about the whole thing."

  "This is about our company, isn't it? They did something to Tina, and her family is trying to sue, aren't they?” Her eyes widened with shock, and she inhaled loudly. “Are you saying she didn't kill herself?"

  "She did. I was the one who found her."

  "Oh.” Kaitlin looked at me with a pained expression. “I'm sorry,” she said. “That must have been awful."

  "It was."

  "Well, if Good Fortune is somehow responsible for her death, then a lawsuit over that just might put it out of business."

  "I know."

  "It wouldn't really solve anything, though. And what about our jobs? Do you have any idea how hard it is to get work these days?” She was tearing up, waiting for my answer. I'm not the most sensitive guy, but seeing her like that tore at me. “Well, do you?"

  "I guess not. To be honest, I've never had any trouble getting a job."

  "Oh,” she said, understanding. She may not have known that my handicap was caused by my mother using salamander neurotrophic stem cells to treat nerve damage in her spine, but everyone knew about the placement programs that gave people like me almost a guarantee of a job. “But it's just so dark to sue the life out of a company, get rich, and leave everyone else totally unemployed."

  The food came, and Kaitlin chewed almost angrily. I didn't think she was mad at me, because she didn't know I was the one suing. Still, I didn't want to let her stew like that because of me.

  "Have you seen the new Wizard of Oz refake?” I said, trying to brighten the meal. “They aged Judy Garland down by eight years and gave the good witch some cleavage to compensate."

  "The women in that movie are all complete idiots,” she said.

  Ouch. You try for small talk and you hit a nerve. Anyway, I guess I got what I was looking for. I didn't like it.

  * * * *

  The next day, I got a courtesy call from McKenzie. No news, just checking in. She was professional that way, but it made me nervous. My life was just another business transaction to her. She sensed a problem and asked. I hemmed and hawed, but didn't really say anything.

  "It's normal to have cold feet with this sort of thing,” she said. “I have a great idea. Can you join me for lunch?” Man, was she slick.

  "You paying?"

  "My pleasure. I'll pick you up at work. There's someone I want you to meet."

  McKenzie must have really wanted to make a point, because we went to an expensive restaurant. I rode in front. In the back was a frumpy lady in her thirties named Maysie. After a quick introduction, she became sullen and didn't speak a word. When we got to the restaurant, a man in a tux opened our car doors, while a valet took the car. Maysie was very slow and out of it, like she was only following us because she was stuck in our wake.

  We sat at a round table in the middle of the fancy dining room. The windows were darkened and glazed with gold lights that seemed to run downward like streaks of rain. The other walls had dark gold drapes covering them, and from the ceiling hung huge globe lights that were very dim, despite their size. McKenzie and I made small talk, and we all ordered. I had no idea what some of the food was, so I just ordered a T-bone.

  "I wanted you to meet Maysie,” McKenzie said, “because she is one of the plaintiffs in our class action suit. Is it all right if I describe your case to Jimmy?” Maysie nodded, so McKenzie continued. “Maysie recently lost a baby during childbirth. Like you, she signed some papers at an inopportune moment, without being given a clear and full understanding what they meant. I don't need to paint the picture for you."

  "No,” I said. “When you go to have a baby and have problems, I don't expect you're in the mood for fine print."

  McKenzie made a saccharine smile. “Very perceptive of you. Unfortunately, the papers she allegedly signed gave Good Fortune's parent company full rights to what they called ‘discarded tissue.’”

  "It was my son.” That was the most Maysie had said up to then. “I held him in my arms. I knew he wasn't going to make it, but I gave him a name....” Her jaw dropped and quivered, a string of saliva hanging between her lips. A tear shot out from each eye when she blinked, and she couldn't continue. I just looked at where one of the tears made a spot on the table linen.

  "They made a major breakthrough concerning the disease that killed her son,” McKenzie said, “and they did it with that little boy's body that she was coerced to sign away. The cure will be worth hundreds of millions."

  Maysie collected herself. “I'm truly glad that this disease may be cured,” she said. “But sometimes I just wish I could have buried him.” She struggled for words. “It's like he's still out there somewhere, being exploited by strangers."

  "So you see, Jimmy? It's not just about the money, and it's not just about ownership. It's about fundamental human rights. Maysie's case is not atypical. But your case is different, because you're still alive. You can make a strong testimony. We need you to fight for your rights on behalf of a lot of people just like Maysie."

  She locked me with a concerned stare, like a teacher glaring when you don't have your homework to hand in. When the platters of food came, I was in no mood for steak.

  * * * *

  I had the dream of my extra hands strangling me again. My parents were dead, but still conjoined to my body, like the previous dream. As the hands choked me, the last fragments of my parents finally fell off. Then Tina came, like a ghost, and the hands fell motionless.

  "Are you going to take my parents’ place?” I said to her.

  She didn't answer, but pointed to my little arms. “I know how to make them stop strangling you."

  "I already tried cutting them off. That didn't work."

  She just laughed and started to glide away, the way ghosts do. “TTFE,” she said over her shoulder. “Ta-Ta For Ever!"

  I woke up sweating and feverish, maybe from cutting new knuckles. I flexed the tiny fingers, which were not hard bones yet and were still partly submerged under scabs that itched like mad. I contemplated what Tina might have meant about knowing how to make them stop strangling me. I didn't like her way of ending problems.

  * * * *

  They were planning a memorial service for Tina in the prison chapel, so Tyler could be there. Even Tina's mother was coming. I didn't want to think about all that, so I kept myself busy continuing to hack into Good Fortune's systems. I didn't care why anymore, but I wanted to know exactly who sent that target to Tina. I went to Swami's office for help, but somehow he ended up lecturing me on the rapid evolution of
the sativa species of pot, caused by something called polymorphism.

  "The prophet Ezekiel and some priests used a matriarchal strain called pannag, but mostly the herb was reserved for use anointing the Ark of the Covenant,” he informed me. “If we could only reverse-engineer the DNA that far back, that would be good enough."

  "You're twice the med school drop-out I ever was,” I said.

  "I didn't go to med school."

  "I know, I know. Listen, I need you to look into something. See if you can get some access certs for something on the administrative side of the house, instead of the technical. You know, where the money is."

  "I don't think I want to do that,” Swami said. His eyes betrayed his intrigue.

  "Listen, Tyler's good. No one will ever know what happened."

  "It's not that. Look, Jimmy, if you take down the company, you are ruining the chances of finding some important discoveries."

  "What, like your holy ark polish?"

  His brow furrowed, and he leaned on his chair's control arm. The chair lurched around and crawled across his office toward me.

  "You think I do all this for myself?” he said. “What I do is for the healing of the nations. That means everybody, including people like you. People with extra limbs, or malformed limbs, or no limbs at all. People born with their intestines hanging outside their bodies, kept alive by some heartless science that thinks it's doing a good thing."

  He might have gone on, but my feigned gagging motions took him aback. “Spare me,” I said. “I told Tyler to wait until you had a fair chance to find your blessed tree. Or at least Mary Jane's grandmother. Are you going to help me or not?"

  "Not.” He rolled back.

  "Look,” I said, “I need you, man. It doesn't have to be all or nothing.” I was thinking about Kaitlin, something she had said, and something Swami had said about organisms. “Maybe we can mess around a bit without jacking the whole place."

  "You're not making sense, Jimmy. Exactly what do you have in mind?"

  Some dormant thought awoke in my mind, something about the company's administrative systems. “I know exactly what to look for!” I blurted. “Can we get into the virtual board of directors?"