Read Online Socket 3 - The Legend of Socket Greeny by Tony Bertauski - Free Book Online
Authors: Tony Bertauski
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me
to know. I think. Had he become some brat smirking behind his hand
while he watched me step into an obvious trap, milking every second
of joy from my immediate future? Am I walking into it? Is he
leading me there? Is this part of it?
Get a hold of yourself!
I dropped my feet and rubbed at my tired
face. I really needed sleep, this was no way to deal with problems.
But I’d just end up staring at the ceiling. And I couldn’t let this
go. If I’m going to obsess, may as well stop half-assing
it.
“Show me Pike,” I said.
The maze of wormholes evaporated, leaving a
wide open blank space between my desk and the opposite wall. An
image flickered a few feet in front of me, then materialized into a
solid projection of a figure slumped in a chair. This was simply a
projection of what Pike was doing at that moment. He couldn’t see
me. Didn’t know I was watching.
I paced around the desk. The three minders
solidified in front of me, like immovable objects staring at the
back of Pike’s bald head. Pike was hunched over with his legs
folded under him, swaying back and forth like a mental patient. The
ever-present string of drool jiggled off his lip while he mumbled.
His glasses had fallen off, lying in his lap, exposing the
sightless eyeballs that were filled with red veins.
I knelt in front of him. This is how he spent
his endless days. There was no sleep. No exercise. Just second
after second of the minders frying his mind like a microwave.
Showtime . What’d he mean by that? Out
of everything he said, that stuck with me, like he knew something
was coming. Something to do with Pivot. Or was he just clever
enough to make me think he did, because there was no way this
secluded madman could know anything.
I paced around the empty office, leisurely
throwing each foot in front of the other while I stared at the
black floor. It was dark at the far end, barely lit by the image of
Pike muttering near my desk.
What makes you believe that’s you?
The space brightened around me as I called up
the vision. Weeds sprouted from the floor between rising boulders.
The rose in Chute’s wrinkled hand. I walked around to look into our
faces. The traces of white hair, thinner and receding, covered most
of my head. How could that not be me? But now he had me wondering.
I looked back at the image of Pike, still wavering. Still
mumbling.
That’s me. End of story. My visions weren’t
wrong.
So does Pike escape?
I waved the image away just as Chute placed
the rose on the enormous charred stump. I was standing in darkness
again, hands clamped behind my back, no more at ease than I was ten
minutes earlier. And Pike still chattering.
“See Chute.”
Chute’s bed materialized in front of me. It
was a live feed from her bedroom. She let me tap into her home’s
security months ago. We started to project images back and forth
like I did when I met my mother, but it was just too impermanent.
We didn’t use it much anymore because we decided if we were going
to talk, it had to be in person. But sometimes, I would call it up
just so I could watch her sleep.
Her head lay softly on the pillow, eyes shut.
Her lower lip fluttered with each exhale. Sometimes I’d watch her
long enough to hear her sleep talk, but there were never words,
just moaning and turning.
I sat on the floor, wishing I could stroke
her hair. All I could do was watch. It was better than nothing. At
least I knew she was safe. I recalled the vision of her attacking
me, more impossible than Pike escaping, even in the most bizarre
alternate reality. She wasn’t capable of that, not with me. Not
with anyone.
So maybe my visions were going off the rails
after all.
“Your visitation rights with Pike have been
revoked.” Spindle was standing by my desk, his red eyelight glowing
in the dark. “The Commander has put a moratorium on your contact
with him until further notice.”
A lock of hair fell over Chute’s face and was
puffing out with each breath. I wanted to
to know. I think. Had he become some brat smirking behind his hand
while he watched me step into an obvious trap, milking every second
of joy from my immediate future? Am I walking into it? Is he
leading me there? Is this part of it?
Get a hold of yourself!
I dropped my feet and rubbed at my tired
face. I really needed sleep, this was no way to deal with problems.
But I’d just end up staring at the ceiling. And I couldn’t let this
go. If I’m going to obsess, may as well stop half-assing
it.
“Show me Pike,” I said.
The maze of wormholes evaporated, leaving a
wide open blank space between my desk and the opposite wall. An
image flickered a few feet in front of me, then materialized into a
solid projection of a figure slumped in a chair. This was simply a
projection of what Pike was doing at that moment. He couldn’t see
me. Didn’t know I was watching.
I paced around the desk. The three minders
solidified in front of me, like immovable objects staring at the
back of Pike’s bald head. Pike was hunched over with his legs
folded under him, swaying back and forth like a mental patient. The
ever-present string of drool jiggled off his lip while he mumbled.
His glasses had fallen off, lying in his lap, exposing the
sightless eyeballs that were filled with red veins.
I knelt in front of him. This is how he spent
his endless days. There was no sleep. No exercise. Just second
after second of the minders frying his mind like a microwave.
Showtime . What’d he mean by that? Out
of everything he said, that stuck with me, like he knew something
was coming. Something to do with Pivot. Or was he just clever
enough to make me think he did, because there was no way this
secluded madman could know anything.
I paced around the empty office, leisurely
throwing each foot in front of the other while I stared at the
black floor. It was dark at the far end, barely lit by the image of
Pike muttering near my desk.
What makes you believe that’s you?
The space brightened around me as I called up
the vision. Weeds sprouted from the floor between rising boulders.
The rose in Chute’s wrinkled hand. I walked around to look into our
faces. The traces of white hair, thinner and receding, covered most
of my head. How could that not be me? But now he had me wondering.
I looked back at the image of Pike, still wavering. Still
mumbling.
That’s me. End of story. My visions weren’t
wrong.
So does Pike escape?
I waved the image away just as Chute placed
the rose on the enormous charred stump. I was standing in darkness
again, hands clamped behind my back, no more at ease than I was ten
minutes earlier. And Pike still chattering.
“See Chute.”
Chute’s bed materialized in front of me. It
was a live feed from her bedroom. She let me tap into her home’s
security months ago. We started to project images back and forth
like I did when I met my mother, but it was just too impermanent.
We didn’t use it much anymore because we decided if we were going
to talk, it had to be in person. But sometimes, I would call it up
just so I could watch her sleep.
Her head lay softly on the pillow, eyes shut.
Her lower lip fluttered with each exhale. Sometimes I’d watch her
long enough to hear her sleep talk, but there were never words,
just moaning and turning.
I sat on the floor, wishing I could stroke
her hair. All I could do was watch. It was better than nothing. At
least I knew she was safe. I recalled the vision of her attacking
me, more impossible than Pike escaping, even in the most bizarre
alternate reality. She wasn’t capable of that, not with me. Not
with anyone.
So maybe my visions were going off the rails
after all.
“Your visitation rights with Pike have been
revoked.” Spindle was standing by my desk, his red eyelight glowing
in the dark. “The Commander has put a moratorium on your contact
with him until further notice.”
A lock of hair fell over Chute’s face and was
puffing out with each breath. I wanted to
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