Chapter 65: Wavy Bricks

Lena was taking me to Micro Center.

She didn’t say that. When I made the mistake of asking her again where we were headed, as we took our seats on the northbound light rail from Englewood Downtown, she turned her nose up and looked out the window.

But what else could she have in mind? We switched lines at Broadway to head southeast, got off at the Southmoor station, and boarded a southbound bus. We’d made this pilgrimage every time one of us saved enough cash to splash on some electronic gadget or PC upgrade.

“You really think you’re surprising me,” I said, as the bus pulled to a stop at Eastmoor and Quincy.

She hopped out of her seat. “Normally, I’m the impatient one.”

“Fine.” I spread my hands. “I’ll play along.”

Mostly, I wanted to understand why we’d come here.

I knew from long experience that the lawn we walked past on our way to the intersection occupied a lot about the size of our apartment building. Actual structures lay in the distance, some blocked off by walls to keep the sound and the riffraff – like us – out. Others, separated from the street only by manicured stretches of grass or, once you hit the commercial area, parking lots.

Or, this morning, by snow. Only a dusting last night, but the sky looked even grayer than usual, promising another salvo. I hoped that whatever Lena wanted to scout, we’d find it before the weather broke.

We reached the intersection.

She cast a longing look toward Micro Center.

I saw the moment her resolve broke, even though I didn’t understand it. Her shoulders slumped and she pressed her fingers together. “You got me. I really just wanted some retail therapy.”

I caught up to her. “I don’t ‘got you,’” I said. “What is it, Lena?”

“I just told you.” She laughed nervously.

I caught her gloved hands in mine.

She tried to jerk away, rolled her eyes a little, and squeezed back. “Why are you being silly? Don’t you want to go to Micro Center?”

“Always,” I said. “I can tell that’s not why you came down here, though. And it’s not like either of us can afford anything.”

“We can through the magic of credit cards.” She tried to force a smile. If I hadn’t been clasping her hands, I think she would’ve waved pretend sparkles in the air.

“Whatever you wanted to do,” I said, “I can tell it was important to you. I’ll back you up. So let’s see this thing through.”

I got a glimpse of freckles, then she yanked her hands out of my grasp and spun around. I saw her hand rise to her chest. Clasping her amulet. She muttered, “Why you gotta get all serious like that?”

She stomped across the dusting of snow.

To the right. Away from Micro Center.

I followed.

The apartments we walked past stood out in the middle of Tech Center suburbia. Really, they would have even in-town. If I hadn’t seen them for years, I’d have wondered if they were Third Eye constructs themselves. I wouldn’t move in, because the only thing they were convenient to was Micro Center, but just for the structures? Hell yeah. I thought they might be my favorite apartments in the whole metro area.

Tudor-style wood framing around the windows and the peaks of the roof, nice looking but nothing special. But between those stretches, whitewashed brick in an irregular, wavy pattern I’d never seen anywhere else. It looked like they’d been built five hundred years ago in Europe and gradually settled into their current shape. Since they’d actually been built here in the 1970s, I figured a lot of drugs had been involved.

We passed a couple of two-story versions I thought were maybe condos.

Lena sagged to a stop in front of the tallest building in the complex, five stories high with a cool clock over the front door. No numbers, but I remembered enough about telling analog time to recognize 9:15. We’d gotten down here fast. The light rail and buses had lined up almost perfectly.

Lena didn’t look grateful for it.

She stared up at the apartment like she was seeing a ghost.

Since she had her Google Glass on, and, I was sure, Third Eye open, maybe she was.

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I took my phone out, opened Third Eye, and trained my camera on the front of the apartment building.

Nothing.

I saw an odd sign out of the corner of my eye, but it was across the street. Iron and Plastic, I supposed. Something to collect on our way out.

Lena ignored it. All her attention remained fixed on the apartment building.

I took in her appearance in Third Eye. She looked every inch magnificent. As I’d known it would, Third Eye showed her in full armor, crimson lacquered plate, bare steel trim, a cloak of flames that flowed directly into her wings as they beat furiously in the morning air.

If these apartments looked like they’d been transplanted from the dying days of medieval Europe, then Lena looked ready to lay siege to them.

How had I known she’d look like this?

More to the point, how had Third Eye known to show her this way?

I could make excuses. It translated her Google Glass as armor for some reason. (No, it hid the smart glasses like it did any device it ran on.) It recognized she’d worn more layers than usual. If I wanted to dredge up an absurd but mundane explanation, whatever AI attached our avatars to us had read her body language and responded appropriately.

After yesterday, I no longer felt like making excuses.

Third Eye armored Lena because Lena had felt like she needed armor today.

I hoped the fact it wanted to support her was a good sign about the devs’ intentions. And that she – and it – were wrong about the need for armor.

“Why here?” I asked.

She squared her shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her gloves bunched up as her grip tightened around her amulet.

Why didn’t I just let her pivot to a Micro Center trip if this bothered her so much?

I leaned forward. “We don’t have to –”

“Let’s go,” she bit out.

I swallowed a sigh. I hadn’t minded her playing around about our destination when it seemed like she was playing. If it mattered to her, if it hurt her, I wanted to know why.

I supposed I’d find out soon enough.

Lena pushed her way into the lobby of the apartments. A bell rang, but there was no attendant, and if anybody was home at 9:15 on a weekday, they were the kind of people who stayed at home and didn’t peek when newcomers came in late.

A lobby. Upholstered wooden chairs. Mood lighting, washed out by the pale light pouring through the glass door, a door to fire stairs.

At the far end, an elevator.

I took my phone out and swept it around. Everything looked the same except Lena and I. Either Third Eye hadn’t planted any objects in this lobby, or someone had collected them, or they were too subtle for me to notice.

I realized I’d started to sweat and forced myself to take deep breaths.

Lena might feel nervous about coming here, but it couldn’t be because it was a space like the construction site. We’d only walked fifteen feet from the sidewalk along a busy street. People lived here. They came and went every day.

Still, when Lena approached the elevator and pushed the up arrow, I lingered near the front door.

The lights over the elevator said it started on floor five. Why five? Wouldn’t people have been leaving for work?

Four. Three. I saw Lena’s back stiffen. I tilted my phone and saw her wings pressed in close, almost folded in on themselves. Two. One.

The elevator dinged. I flinched. So did Lena.

The doors opened slowly. Dragging it out. Or just in need of maintenance?

I wanted to look away, but, my phone stretched out so I could see half in and half out of Third Eye, I forced myself not to.

I needn’t have bothered. No matter what eye I used to survey it, the inside of the elevator was just worn wood paneling. No mirrors. Nothing that should’ve been mirrored. Normal.

I relaxed. Some.

Lena didn’t.

I forced myself forward and looked down at her.

Her amulet rose and fell as she took a deep breath.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

“Do what?”

“Check out my old apartment.” She strode into the elevator.

I stepped across its threshold. Nothing swallowed me up.

Lena huddled against the back wall, one hand still on her amulet, the other tucked into a pocket of her coat.

I pushed the little round Three button and joined her there.

She stiffened. More than she already had. “How’d you know?”

“I saw your reaction when it was coming down,” I said. “Three was obviously the floor you cared about.”

“Good spot.” She tapped her foot as the elevator doors rolled shut.

They sealed us in. I’ve always hated elevators, but after last night, I had to fight not to hyperventilate.

I plastered a smile on my face. “I had no idea you used to live here. That’s so cool. You could afford this?”

“Obviously not,” she snapped. Her gaze dropped to the tiled floor. “Sorry.”

“No, I am. Just trying to get you to relax.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Bad memories?”

“On the inside, it’s just another apartment.” The lobby and the elevator bore that out. All the really cool design details were on the building’s facade. I didn’t understand how that answered my question, until she added, “That’s all I saw when I lived here.”

Lena had never talked about her old place. She hadn’t asked me for help moving, either. After we agreed she’d move in with me, we’d set the date and she showed up, riding shotgun in a moving van she’d contracted to lug her stuff over.

From what I quickly learned of her housekeeping, I’d figured she was just embarrassed about the state of her old place. Which was silly; I’d seen enough through her webcam to know both how bad it had been, and that it didn’t bother me.

She didn’t need armor against embarrassment.

I asked, “Did somebody hurt you when you lived here?”

“Yeah.” She looked up and met my eyes. “Me.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but I had no idea what to say.

Before I could figure something out, the elevator doors opened and I heard the roar of flames.