Chapter 21 “There’s that word again."

Suzette had food sent up, and began to bring him up to speed. He wanted to get out and do something, but got the sense that Suzette didn’t think that a good idea.

“Once we stopped having to scavenge for food, things really took off. We cleared the buildings, started surveying what could and couldn’t be saved.” She unfurled three strips of wallpaper taped together. “Ultimately, we need a wall.”

The drawing on the paper showed a detailed top down view. The tower at the centre, a wall enclosing an over square block. “Half the builders are on that. The other on living space in here. People need sunlight and space, after living…” She trailed off. “Were you alone...all this time?” She couldn’t keep the pity from her voice.

“We could automate a lot of the construction.” He changed the subject. “How many bots do you have?”

“We pulled a dozen or so domestic models from the ruins. Four of one eyed bitches that you…” She corrected herself. “That we found. And the two big dogs. I’ll introduce you to my friend Bill, he’s in charge of all that. Eat your soup.” Suzette pushed the steaming bowl of soup closer, waiting for him to eat.

Food had become a tiresome chore to him. His dulled sense of taste and smell meant everything lost its flavour. Two spoonfuls of the soup brought a creeping heat and sweetness to his mouth. “What is this?” He asked.

“Scotch Bonnet broth. They make it special for us.” She plucked a whole chilli from the bottom of the bowl, chewing the fiery hot pepper. “Good right?” He nodded, crunching into flavourful peppers.

“What about security?” He had concerns, apparently.

“We’ve got marksmen with rifles dotted around. We keep the bots hidden for the most part.” Suzette shifted in her chair.

“She’s hiding something.” Shaw blew smoke into the space between them.

“Has there been trouble?” He saw she didn’t want to tell him.

“A few years back, when things started getting better, we found people living in The Grand. Good people, families, just trying to get by.” She looked away, staring east. “Two years ago, they got hit by raiders.”

“Raiders?” He felt bad pushing, but had to know.

“Roving clans of the kind of people we used to lock up. Only now they’re armed, unchecked, and savage. Some of them were like us once. Seeing the world fall, it broke something in them.” She hung her head. “They’ve owned The Grand since.”

“If only someone was here with the power to stop them.” Shaw glared at him. His dead friend’s fury fuelled by his own guilt.

“What can we do?” He tried to ignore Shaw.

“Nothing.” Suzette looked pained by loss. “We’d need a damn army to get them out.”

“Give me two teams and you’d be back in your suite in time for breakfast.” Shaw scoffed, tormenting him.

“What you’ve done here is incredible.” He wanted to lift her spirit. “You kept them going, got them organised.” He waited to make eye contact. “You gave them hope.”

“Well, I had a lot of help.” She placed her hand over the necklace she wore.

“We both did.”

At his insistence, Suzette took him to the bot shop. A full side of the tower on the ground floor, hidden by steel fencing. “Bill!” Suzette shouted over the scraping and sparking. “Bill!” A man turned from his work. In his forties, wearing a Robco Industries jumpsuit. “Bill, this is my friend Virgil.” She he introduced him. He put out his good hand.

“William Robertson, pleased to meet you.” He smiled and shook his hand.

“Virgil Nash.” He couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Bill here practically ran the local Robco plant, isn’t that right Bill.” Suzette came to his rescue, her amusement barely hidden.

“Hardly, I was a shift supervisor, not Mr. House.” Bill played it off.

“Looks like there’s lots to do.” He changed the subject, walking along the benches and inspecting the scavenged parts.

“I’ll leave you boys to it.” Suzette pulled Bill aside and whispered something while he pretended not to notice.

He spent the afternoon working and making gentle conversation with Bill. He had an easy manner about him, and knew his bots.

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“Quitting time.” Bill announced. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.” Bill led him out and down the block to a corner bar. Last time he’d been in here, it’d been a wreck. Now a clean window let light wash over polished wood. People sat round tables, others at the bar.

“What’ll it be?” The barman asked, standing in front of a sign that only said whiskey. Bill smiled. “Two whiskeys, a triple for my friend here.” Two jars were placed on the bar and filled with clear liquid. “Cheers.” Bill clinked his jar of the other and took a small sip. He took a farther larger gulp.

“Smooth.” He rasped, sarcastically.

He sat at the bar, enjoying the surreal normalcy of an after work drink with friends. “There you are.” Suzette hopped onto the stool next to him. “Knocking off early to hit the bar on your first day.” She shook her head, playfully disappointed. “How’d he do Bill?” She asked, deeply amused.

“Great, we got so much done we finished early, right Virgil?” Bill winked and raised his glass. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” Bill finished his drink, exhaling sharply to fight the burn. “I don’t want to be late for dinner. Virgil, Boss.”

“How was it today?.” Suzette asked, trying a little too hard to sound casual.

“Fine, I think I can handle bot repair.” He tried to play off her concern.

“I meant being around other people.” She waited for him to make eye contact.

“I can handle it.” He’d struggled with actual company. “Plus Bill, he’s alright.”

“Yes, he is.” Suzette sipped her drink. “When I met him he was a twenty something kid who’d lost his whole family. Now he’s married with two kids and another on the way.” She looked around at the people. He realised that the smiling, tired faces around him all had similar stories. Each had lost everything and now they had built a new life, clawed back a piece of the world that was, brick by brick.

Days became weeks, routine began to settle in.

“Virgil.” He didn’t turn from the terminal in the bot shop. “Virgil!” Bill yelled again, without a response.

“Six months and you still don’t know your name.” Shaw prompted him to turn round.

“Quitting time.” Bill smiled to put him at ease, like when he caught Virgil talking to himself. “Unless they’ve started paying you overtime or something.”

“They’d have to start paying me first.” He made the same old joke. “You go ahead, I’m almost done.” He’d been coding for months, teaching old bots new tricks.

“You didn’t forget about dinner right?” Bill gently reminded him.

“No I remember, seven sharp.” He lied and took a guess.

“Nine, so Denise can put the kids to bed.” Bill left, and he got back to work.

“You must have made tremendous progress if you have time to socialise.” He heard a voice he knew.

“Fuck you.” He kept typing.

“Really Burton, such vulgarity. Whatever will your employer, the assembly line monkey think.” Mr. House’s derision of his friend enraged him.

“He’s worth ten of you.” Virgil glared at his tormentor, his fist closed tight. He took a deep breath, and headed for the door.

“There’s that word again.” Mr. House called out, taking the last word as usual. He checked the clock and left.

“You look like a million caps.” Virgil quipped as Suzette emerged from her bedroom. She’d dressed in a pair of pleated slacks, dark black and spotless. Matched with a white shirt and recut waist coat.

They shared the tenth floor corner suite, at her suggestion. He’d agreed, mainly to ease her worry, and waking with a view didn’t hurt.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” Suzette had got him a navy suit, and tailored it for him. A far cry from his usual greasy jeans and t shirts.

“Can you help with my tie?” She smiled and drew closer.

“Thank you for this.” Suzette straightened his tie and fussed at the collar. “Getting dressed up, meeting friends for dinner. Like old times.” She stepped back. “Plus I know how much you hate it.”

“I don’t hate it.” He lied. “Look, tonight I want to show you two things. First, everything won’t fall apart if you take a night off.” He would often hear her typing and scribbling through the night.

“And the second?” She asked.

“I won’t fall apart either.” He offered her his good arm, and headed out.

One of the latest buildings to be reclaimed had been a restaurant. The front smashed when the neighbouring structure collapsed. The kitchens however, remained intact, protected by the rubble around it. Now the car park had been laid out with tables and chairs. Light bulbs hung overhead.

“Table for four, under Nash.” Virgil spoke to the suited host, stood at a lectern.

“Of course, this way sir.” He led them through the other well dressed people to their table.

The four of them ate a three course meal. Toasted bread with pâté to start, both made fresh that day. An entrée of venison stew, and for dessert a single scoop of ice cream. After dinner, cocktails of moonshine and fruit juice, served in highball glasses. Part meal, part theatre. Everyone participating in the shared performance of a pale reflection of the world that was.

Bill and his wife left them in the elevator as they rode it to the tenth floor. He held the door open to their suite for Suzette. She’d enjoyed the evening off, yet each step they took towards home dampened her spirits.

“I can’t make the numbers work.” She blurted out as soon as the door closed. “Supplies, projected crop yields, population. None of it adds up. Sooner or later, everything is going to collapse. Again.” The secret she’d kept from him escaped into the room.

“Show me.”

A list of everything they had sat on the air gapped terminal, keyed in by hand. Every calculation fell short.

“You’re looking at this like a bookkeeper. Trying to balance this against that.” Virgil lit a cigarette, trying to soften his advice.

“I don’t know how else to do it.” Suzette had accomplished incredible things, yet couldn’t see a solution.

“You need to think like a businessman. You need growth, so you acquire assets, you advertise.” He turned his attention to the world that remained.

“All that money I spent on your education and that’s your advice.” He saw Mr. House reflected in the window. “You sound like a late night infomercial.”

“That Robco plant Bill worked at, that’s south west of here right?” He had an idea that tempted him.