Machine Sense, page 8
‘And, Dad, it is messed up.’
‘Seriously, baby, when the tomato thing happened, it was all I could do to keep my shit together. I prayed it wasn’t happening to you but it was. I’m so sorry.’
‘Dad, chill, it’s fine. We’re on the same page. We can help each other out, right?’
‘Right.’ The threat of tears was averted by another fist pump and Zak continued.
‘So we have to do things a little different now.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, there are changes that happen all around us all the time. Most of the time we don’t know they’ve happened. The ones we see straight away are the tip of the iceberg. Then we start blabbing on about something a friend did last week and find out they weren’t even at that thing last week or maybe they don’t even exist anymore.’
‘Embarrassing.’
‘More than embarrassing, baby, people start to wonder.’
‘They sure did when I handed it to Mister Rolon.’
Another tension relieving chuckle followed and another solidarity fist pump.
‘Poor Mister Rolon. Seriously though, baby, we need to be more reactive now. Assume something you know isn’t true any more.
Zak took a moment and let Izzi zone into outer space a bit and absorb all of this. He was confident she was capable but everyone needs a little metabolic leeway.
‘And some of the changes are really small and stupid. You just can’t figure out what the point is,’ continued Zak.
‘Like what?’
‘The ones that make no sense? Countries appearing and disappearing and assassinations of presidents you can kinda get your head round if it’s people who are doing it.’
‘People? So it’s people, Dad?’
Shit. Idiot. He wanted to give her a friend not give her the same fight. Give her a sniff of it and she will. Idiot. Divert.
‘I don’t know, baby. Probably just random, might just be a shithead of a universe.’
‘Dad, you said people.’
‘I know, baby, but I don’t know. It could be anything. Just thinking out loud.’
‘I’ve told you about that, Dad.’
‘Right.’
‘So what was the point of the day of the tomatoes?’
‘That’s just it. I don’t think there was a point. What possible big picture could mean a person suddenly ordered something else for breakfast?’
Zak remembered probably the only conversation he had with his dad that could have been about all this. Maybe the only way his dad could deal with telling him was being cryptic.
‘My dad said some things just don’t make sense in life. If you see something that doesn’t make sense, it’s just a consequence of something bigger that did make sense. It’s like a big river splitting out into tributaries and then smaller streams and each tiny branch eventually comes to rest where it does. A milk carton ends up caught in the brushwood in a stream somewhere. There’s no reason for it to be there.’
‘Or is there?’
‘Very Zen, daughter. Wise beyond your years you are.’
‘Dad.’
‘It’s just one of the millions of tiny results of something bigger upstream, something that did mean something. So I guess what he meant was if time is the river and something is changed at its core for whatever reason, there are repercussions all the way down the line, some trickling onto you for no apparent reason, like the tomato nonsense. On their own, there’s no reason for them but as a consequence of that bigger change they’re inevitable.’
‘So the tomato thing was like a milk carton that washed up at the end of the tiniest stream. It had no business being where it was but it still was.’
‘Not everything means something.’
Zak smiled at his little girl’s immense ability to process stuff like this. Izzi had an ally and that ally was her dad, the only human being on God’s green earth she truly trusted.
‘So how come it’s just us?’ she said.
‘That’s something else I need to talk about. I just found out it’s not just us. There is someone else, but first I need to ask a couple of questions.’
‘Intriguing, my father, shoot.’
‘Do you ever dream of water, like you’re drowning?’
‘Shit yeah, only all the time, started a few weeks ago.’
‘Me too, a few weeks. And do you ever feel stiff in the morning like you ran up a mountain yesterday?’
‘That started the morning you, me and mom went out on the boat, the day of the tomato.’
Then Izzi’s eyes started to change, one at a time, gradually changing color from the pupil outwards from her current emerald green to her mom ’s crystal blue and Zak could only smile at the sheer beauty of it. It was mesmerized, stopped time in its tracks and reminded him of the truest beauty there was in the world.
‘They just changed again didn’t they?’ she said.
‘Yep.’
‘That’s so fucked up. Has that got anything to do with it?’
‘No idea, baby, I just love seeing it.’
‘You’re so weird.’
‘Look, I’ve been aching every day since I was your age. Don’t worry, it never gets too bad, you just know it’s there, right?’
‘Right.’
‘I saw the doctors and they had not one clue but we’ll go see them anyway.’
‘Don’t let them do tests on me, Dad.’
‘No way, baby. If they don’t know, they don’t know. I’m pretty sure it’s all part of these changes somehow. I just don’t know why now.’
Zak reached across and needed both her hands wrapped up in his for this.
‘There’s one more thing, baby’
‘Me too, you first.’
‘I met someone,’ he said. ‘Allie. She sees the changes too and so does her mom.’
‘So basically everyone sees the changes?’
‘No, just us four and they’ve never heard of anyone else seeing them either. We’re linked to them somehow. These changes seem to run in families. It starts when you go through the hormone change, you know, when a girl starts getting her… you know...’ That’s it he was in, no going back. ‘You know, boys start being even more stupid but with different haircuts?’
Zak looked literally everywhere around this room apart from into her eyes.
‘So how’s that all going for you, baby? Have you… er… you know… gone through that other kind of change?’ he said, seriously cracking her up with a new and fully nervous crazy ugly face.
‘Dad, gross, please.’ Izzi put her head in her hands. Zak just about heard a muffled ‘yes’ through her fingers followed by something that sounded like ‘barra abum.’
A teenage daughter, however close she may be to her dad, is still less likely to chat about such stuff with dad than mom. She knew there wasn’t the option here but still, gross.
‘Great flag, Dad, thanks.’ Their third massive hug took place, no less intense than the others, and Zak sat back as little Izzi removed the plates of untouched eggs.
‘What was that other thing you wanted to say, baby?’ reminded Zak.
Izzi wondered if she should tell her dad about the other thing. She knew it would worry him but there was still a flag on the play and she had to.
‘There’s this guy.’
‘What, Brandon from school?’
‘No, this other guy. He’s older. Even older than you. It’s just really weird. I keep seeing him looking at me.’
Zak perked up and was right over into seriously mess someone up mode. ‘What guy?’
‘A few weeks ago, he was outside school when Sarah’s mom dropped us. Then he was at Frio later on my way to the boat. I’ve seen him walking past and driving past. I don’t know, never seen him before he’s just started showing up. He’s always smiling and looking right at me but never comes close and never talks to me.’
The detective in Zak went into overdrive. Not only did he have some sick asshole stalking his little girl, but he had to wonder if the ‘who’ in Allie’s analysis, the seriously high end individuals they were about to seek out, were onto them already somehow and tracking Izzi.
‘How long has this been happening? What did he look like? What was he wearing?’
‘A few weeks, Dad. I never feel threatened. He looks smart and civilized, not like some sicko.’
‘Sickos don’t have a dress code, baby. At no point go near him or talk to him, right?’
‘Right, Dad.’
‘And call me as soon as he shows up again. And if anyone else you don’t know starts looking at you, call me as well, especially if they’re smiling.’
‘Right, Dad.’
Zak was now cold all the way up from his ankles to his neck. His next task this very morning was ask the boys at the precinct for one or two drive-bys the school and Frio.
Had these hypothetical pricks just shown themselves? He and Izzi were way deep in this now. He knew Allie was right. They had to find out why this was happening and kill it and there was less time to waste than he thought.
Zak took a quick shower and was ready so head over to Allie’s.
‘Iz, baby, just going out for a bit.’
He listened for an answer but there was probably music or some other contemplation up there in Izzi central. He jotted a note, baby, just going out for a bit.
Allie was coming up fast, toying with the mountain edge, emerging from her dream, pushing through it to the surface. It wasn’t like the recurring dreams she’d been having recently about being stranded in the sea, in this dream there was a little boy. She knew his name was Aaron and she was pretty sure this was her little boy.
There he was in the front yard, about three years old, riding around on a little toy pedal boat and then he looked back at her through the kitchen window and smiled.
She opened her eyes and looked round the room, slowly releasing the dream and rediscovering her reality. She softened into her pillow again. ‘Not yet.’
The next thing she thought of was a memory from a few years ago. She’d dreamt she was pregnant. It was so real, big lump, hard to move and the whole shebang, she got a test and, for God’s sake, she was pregnant.
She didn’t remotely love the father. She didn’t remotely love any male kind. Men were assholes every last one. The only man she ever loved had fucked off with someone ten years younger and, not only that, he’d taken her old VW bug in the bargain. Men were a messy means to an end and nothing more and never did one get invited to stay the night. With that pregnancy test, she made a decision only women have the affliction to ponder, to keep her life her own for now.
Today, though, sleep was no longer possible for Allie. She was feeling nauseous. She thought of Zak on that beach, that kiss, him inside her on the sand, and she was hurled into the bathroom, head planted deep in the toilet ready to let it all go but it held, false alarm but had her dream recall of pregnancy become an actual pregnancy again?
Today, she now had two things to do where once there was one. At time of going to bed last night, her schedule was meet Zak. But now inserted into that schedule, topping it quite easily, was a pregnancy test.
She was quickly in and out of the pharmacy and home without any other thought crossing her mind other than ‘negative.’ She slipped the test out of her bag and headed to the bathroom. ‘Don’t you dare.’
A ridiculous amount of time later, time occupied only by the little readout in the middle, all the molecules in her body downed tools and stopped. Her throat seized. The color drained out of her and started to appear in the readout, the sign of her new reality. Green.
Like when you get food poisoning you know it was that prawn. She knew who the father was and that prawn was Zak. This felt different to the first time it happened. She’d promised herself never again and, OK, fine, if again, you’re having a baby.
A smile saw an opportunity and pushed aside a frown. Check again in a week but, Holy Jesus, a baby.
Before her revelation spread to notifying fathers, names and diapers and mom’s groups and other things, she was saved by a knock at the door.
By the time Zak realized the flowerpot emoji didn’t mean buy a flowerpot, he’d already bought the damn pot and here it stood with him outside Allie’s apartment.
A few weeks had passed since their boat trip and he was a little nervous about seeing her again. Would she be embarrassed after their wickedness the other week or was he seconds away from more of the same?
Allie’s apartment building was Spanish-Californian, whitewash and red terracotta tiles in a calm leafy street. Her front door on the second floor opened out onto a nice big communal terrace overlooking some secluded palm gardens, the distant bay and a kidney-shaped pool.
The door opened and he was greeted by an Allie in faded Levis and white cropped T-shirt, definitely no bra, a casual departure from the Russian spy the other day.
Allie took a quick look at his pot and smiled a beautiful smile and Zak was tugged inside. The place smelt wonderful, fresh laundry, flowers and most of all, Allie and whatever her scent was.
‘Nice apartment.’
It was big, gorgeous splashes of abstract color delivered by the large paintings on all the walls, fat red leather couches, things Moroccan, stone floors. Zak didn’t know what Allie did for a living but it looked like she was good at it.
Zak noticed a big computer screen over on an antique desk in the corner.
‘Awesome place, Allie, what do you do?’
‘I’m an artist. The pictures are mine.’
She was, in that case, a really awesome artist. Zak wasn’t a connoisseur and wouldn’t know if the things were upside down or not, but he knew what he liked and he liked hers very much. They were almost 3D, deep burnt colors, looked like the globs of paint were still moving. They were about the size of him and they just vibrated, like they were deciding whether to govern the space or let it be. They were completely fluid.
‘You shine lights through crystals onto the canvas and pour acrylic over it,’ she said.
‘So you do it on the floor.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Hang the lights and crystals above it.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Awesome, you should shoot some video of you doing that.’
‘What, naked I assume?’
‘If you prefer.’
Right. This can go one of two ways. Surrender to this delicious lust monkey standing in front of him, just run his hands right up the front of that little shirt and kiss her... or just be cool.
‘Do you ever dream of water?’ he said.
This turned her head.
‘All the time.’
‘Always feels like drowning or about to drown.’
‘Yeah.’
‘So does Izzi. If your mom does too, there’s got to be something to it.’
Meanwhile, in the street outside Allie’s apartment, the trunk popped open on Zak’s car and Izzi climbed out. She knew he was off somewhere. Her and Sarah had plotted this a few weeks ago when he first started acting weird and Izzi stayed over. He was up to something and Sarah’s brother, Kyle, was enlisted to provide the car. They’d followed Zak all over town last couple of weeks. They followed him up to this house on the point. He was there for fifteen minutes and went back to the precinct. Someone watched him from a top window as he drove away. Then she followed him to this weird Moroccan looking shop and saw him shake hands with someone outside and now here he is at this apartment.
She took a receiver unit out of her pocket and switched it on. There was some chatter about paintings and there was a woman there with him. The last of those hugs after her flag this morning had successfully planted the bug in her dad’s pocket and she was receiving loud and clear. She’d got it from some guy at school, said he got it from this other guy up on the point, the guy can literally get anything, some kind of computer nerd.
Izzi headed over to a little green space and sat under a big oak tree. She knew her dad was keeping something back. He’d tried to divert from his glaring error about people being involved in these changes but she wasn’t having any of it. Poor effort, Dad.
‘Who’s this woman? Oh God, please don’t do anything gross,’ Izzi said as a small fuzzy dog thought about lifting a leg on the tree next to hers.
‘Thanks for the app,’ said Allie.
‘Manny said they can never trace it.’
‘Coffee?’
‘It’s officially afternoon though. I’ll join you with one of those if that’s OK,’ said Zak noticing an empty wine glass on the table.
Glasses were chinked and they took their seats on opposite couches. Eye contact became prolonged eye contact and a mutual smile reminded Allie of the beach and Zak of her pouring paint naked.
‘Izzi said there’s this old guy that’s been turning up outside her school.’
‘Old guy?’
‘Yeah she’d never seen him till a few weeks ago.’
‘Who is he?’
‘No idea, might be nothing. She reckons he just smiles at her. I’m checking it out, just worried they’re messing with us’
‘How could they know?’
‘How deep do they go? Maybe they’re the ones who monitor what anyone says anywhere in the world. Maybe they watch out for random chicken noises outside bistros.’
‘Funny boy. So who’s this Manny anyway?’
‘Manny. Manuel Zamora. This orphan kid. One of these genius kids who can do anything. Helps us out on cases every so often. If he says this makes us invisible, it does. He was left as a tiny baby outside the police precinct in a cardboard box. The box once contained Manuel Zamora’s Super Bueno Tortilla Chips. There were plenty of blankets but no note.’
‘The day I saw you at Bayside,’ said Allie. ‘Mom came out of it for a few minutes. It was the weirdest thing. I’d given up hope till the next visit.’
‘It came out of nowhere,’ she continued. ‘She was sitting facing out of the window looking at the sea like she always did. Some seagulls were laughing it up and circling something down below. She suddenly recognized me and smiled. I reached out and took her hand. I knew she was with me in the room again and I knew the first thing she’d say, the first thing she always says, are you pregnant yet, dear?’
