Grace is working at the rate of a speeding stallion. Her face exhausted and the intensity of her nicotine addiction is racing so high, it's as though she's got a repetitively stinging bee in her skull.
Martin can't help but notice the raging bull of Grace, next to his desk.
''Whoa, Grace, you've got to slow down, you'll have a heart attack or something worse.''
''If I slow down, Martin, I'm going to remember how much my life sucks, so screw you doctor.''
''OK, perhaps I'm missing a doctorate or two, but seriously, you've been like this non-stop since you came out of the boss' office, take a break. Please, I implore you,'' Martin finishes, with a scared look.
Grace hits the keyboard, slams herself back in her chair and turns her head to Martin, with a smirk on her face.
''You implore me, do you? When did you get so polite?''
''I'm lying, I never did. I just don't want you collapsing next to me. If I have to do CPR on you or something, then I'm gonna have to smooch you and it's gonna make things pretty awkward when we next meet up...providing you survive, though?''
''It's been a while, but I'm quite certain when I last had basic medical training, they didn't tell us to smooch the half-dead patient?''
Martin pouts. ''Well, I'm a lonely guy, got to get it wherever I can find it.''
Grace raises a ginger eyebrow. ''Your skull must be pretty lonely...and hollow.''
Martin makes a face. ''I'm just trying to cheer you up.''
''And that's clearly working,'' Grace replies.
''Look, I don't smoke, but I'm personally willing to get lung cancer so you can cheer up, now come on, we're going on a break.''
''Together?''
''Together!''
''I think I'd rather have another thirty-hours overtime.''
''Well tough shit, you're coming with me to get a nicotine rush.'' Martin springs off his chair and virtually pulls Grace off hers, by the arm. They walk down the office corridor and head towards the stairs, that descend to reception.
A delivery man walks up the stairs and asks them both a question, ''hi, is this finance?''
Grace points. ''Yeah, it's just the way we came, down there.''
''Thanks.'' The delivery man walks by, as Grace and Martin head down the stairs to start their break.
A knock is heard on the boss' door. ''Come in,'' the boss says, strictly.
The delivery man enters and speaks, ''Hi, mate, are you a Mr. Thomas Kaypek?''
Thomas reiterates, ''Yes, I am a Mr. Thomas Kaypek, what do you want?''
The delivery man looks relieved. ''Blimey, that's a relief, the woman at reception was bloody useless, she told me to...'' He notices Thomas's stern look. He changes his tune and hands Thomas a device. ''If you could just sign this, please, Sir.'' Thomas signs and the delivery man quickly takes the device back, drops off the parcel and hurriedly retreats. ''Thank you, Sir.''
Later in the day, Thomas comes back into his office, holding a cup of coffee
accompanied with a chocolate bar. He sits in his seat and stumbly places the coffee cup on his desk. The rocking hot liquid swoops up the side of the coffee cup and out over onto his desk and paperwork.
''Aghh!'' Thomas shouts, the anger racing through his body. He finds a tissue box on his shelf and repetitively dabs the spilt coffee with the tissues. Thomas picks up the coffee sodden papers and throws them behind him. He makes a loud sigh. Looking at the mess, he trails the coffee splatters up to where they end camouflaged, on the brown cardboard of the parcel, he received earlier in the day.
Remembering and spontaneously forgetting about the mess, he picks up the parcel and begins ripping it apart. He tears open the edge of the parcel and without thinking, tilts in upside down. To his shock, a large black device falls out and thuds on his desk. A paper note follows behind, floating down onto a tiny dribble of coffee, which is quickly absorbed by the paper. Thomas forgets about the bulky black device and turns around the coffee stained note.
It reads:
Dear Thomas,
I need you to look after this for me. I know we haven't spoken for many years now, but you're the only one it makes sense to leave this with. The only one I can truly trust. Please just hide this somewhere safe and forget about it. I'll come and meet you one day soon so we can talk about this further. It would also be nice if we could continue where we left off from last time. Please don't question this. Just hide it. I'm counting on you.
Paul
Thomas reads the stained note and reads it again. He reads it again and again and looks towards the black bulky box confused.
''What is my brother playing at?''
He picks up the metal box and studies it carefully, listening to the gentle whirling of interior fans and noticing the many different ports on one side. He opens up his laptop and tries to think of a way to connect the black box to it. Thomas laughs with an idea in mind. He opens his desk drawer and shuffles some forgotten stationery and papers around, until he finds an old external hard-drive that he has never used. He grabs at it and pulls out the USB cable and with disrespect, hurtles the hard-drive back into his drawer and whacks it shut.
With speed and without patience, he connects the other end of the USB into the side of the black box and then tries to connect it into the laptop. His hands shake with anticipation, which causes him to keep missing the port. He finally connects it to the laptop and waits.
His eyes are fixed upon the screen. He hasn't blinked since he read the coffee stained note. He waits. Nothing happens. He clicks on the laptop and opens up the folder which displays what external devices are attached to the computer. He clicks on the driver called Ingenium and opens the folder. Nothing. It's empty. Thomas' mouth slightly restricts and relaxes as though he's talking to himself. He's completely bewildered. He disconnects the cable and reconnects it. He opens and reopens the driver folder countless times. He resets his laptop. He removes the battery from his laptop. He does everything an inept person tries when they can't understand why something isn't working with their computer. The tension finally builds up in Thomas' very short fuse and he slams shut the laptop and shoves it to the back of his desk. He picks up the black device and throws it to the other side of his office floor.
''What a fucking load of nonsense, that bloody brother of mine is fucking messing with me.''
He picks up his coffee to drink and squints at the cold taste of it. Trying to calm himself, he swivels in his chair and looks at the black-metal box at the other side of the room.
''Don't worry, I'll keep you safe alright, fifteen feet underground my garden, I will.'' Thomas grabs the laptop and charger and storms out of his office. Clearly a man who hates being made a joke of.
Grace is back at her computer trying to keep her eyes from defocusing. A giant thud to the side of the desk makes her jump.
''Oh God!''
Thomas, her boss, stands at her side, trying his absolute hardest not to rip into Grace because of the strange, black box incident. Grace turns around to see her boss' face. She could swear there were fumes coming out of his skull sutures.
''Grace, I'm going home, remember you have to work an extra two hours today, be that here in the office, or at home, I don't really give a shit.'' Thomas realises that his attempt to restrain himself from exploding is failing, and Grace is far too tired to react to this insult.
Thomas straining himself continues, ''now, like I promised, you can use my laptop to finish off your work at home. However, if you break it...I'm going to break you!'' He quickly turns tail and swiftly walks away, his attempt to suppress his rage wasn't quite what he'd hoped for.
''You could get him for that,'' Martin whispers over to Grace.
''You know what, Martin, today has been like a year's worth of work in one day. I just want to sleep. I'm going home and I'm taking these papers and this laptop with me.'' Grace sluggishly gets out of her s
eat and trundles off home.
Leaving Martin looking quite worried. ''Just don't break that laptop, Grace.''
Grace thinks to herself, If I do, I can just add it to the collection of my broken bones and soul.
Walking like a zombie who has given up on the human flesh eating days, Grace gets to her flat's front door. She opens the heavy door and wishes she could collapse right there, never mind about the broken face and weeks of her nose in plaster. It might go well with her run-down look.
After having a long soak in the bath, with bubbles of course, that's just compulsory, she makes a meal, sits on her couch and watches television for several hours.
A loud advert on TV suddenly awakens Grace. She opens her heavy leaden eyes and looks around the room. Her mind is so confused from the unwelcome annoyance, but her eyes soon stop and focus on the clock above her bookcase.
2 am? I guess that's good, still have a few hours before work.
A black thunder cloud suddenly hovers above Grace's mind, some horrible concealed thought that she can't yet open. She tries hard to hold it back, but fails as the memory breaks through the seal and reveals itself to her.
No, no, no, shit. I haven't done my two-hours overtime yet. Holy Shih Tzu, just when I get some decent sleep, now I have to get to work for two hours. I swear this is the worst feeling in the world. I could easily do with some old fashioned bamboo torture, rather than this.
Grace pulls herself up from the couch and her severely miserable face watches her arms lifelessly move, as her hands open up the laptop screen.
Grace looks at the screen and her body abruptly comes awake. She sees a document open and reads it. She scrolls and clicks on other documents open on her desktop. Her work, her two hours worth of work has all been completed, written up. She reaches for the papers that contain work she needed to write up about and numbers to add to documents, but they're all there. It corresponds. Everything on the sheets of paper in her hands are on the laptop.
Grace wonders, what the hell is this? Did I do it in my sleep? Did my bloody boss do this for a joke? Did Martin do it because he was feeling sorry for me or something? I'm so confused...but what the hell am I complaining about, it's freakin' done. Back to couch sleeping for me.
She hears a clear and gentle voice speak, ''hello, Grace.'' But by the time she can react, her half-asleep body gives into the much needed, blissful dreamscape.
Grace's eyes open, the feeling of a good night's sleep overwhelms her body, for just a few seconds she is in an aura of clouds and happiness. Her eyes once again do their old trick of scanning the room for the nearest clock. They find that familiar one above the bookcase and ponder over the elegance of the minute hand, firmly pointing to the number nine. Then they reconcile with the thicker of the two, that slower and bolder hour hand, whose arrow strictly and very accurately points to the number one. That wondrous bliss of a full night's sleep, Grace had been so gracefully attending, suddenly slips right out from under her and dissipates into some unknown abyss. Taking its place is a more familiar sense to Grace, one which she has less fondness for and more of a kind of pure hatred towards. Kind of like the average feeling you'd expect to get if you sunk your teeth into a sweet and delicious looking apple, only to find the taste of faeces and squirming maggots in your mouth. That kind of average day feeling.
Grace almost literally jumps out of the couch and onto the roof.
She screams, ''this is it! I've done it now, there's no going back from this!''
Firmly gripped in her seat, she can't bear to look at the clock. It's like she's seen a spider in the room. Strangely, her absolute fear weakens and she submits to the idea.
She faces the clock and thinks, what's so bad? Just get another job and maybe buy an alarm?
She squashes herself back into the couch and smiles. The heavy cloud of overtime and extra work lifts off her mind. This happy thought of freedom makes her mind wander into different memories and different suppressed worries, like bills and rent. Her mood reinstates back into fear, and the reasons for why she had no choice but to accept Thomas' harsh terms, congregate back to her. Her head rotates down to the laptop screen, where a message says in big clear letters, ''don't worry, everything's fine.'' With a picture of a kitten underneath.
Grace's face scrunches. ''OK, now that's just slightly strange.''
The same gentle and clear voice returns, but now with a computerised sound, ''hello, Grace.''
Grace stares and looks stunned. Seeming like her brain has broken, she says nothing.
The unknown voice continues, ''I hope you don't mind, but I decided to write up your work for you.'' The computer screen flicks through the documents, Grace looked at earlier. ''You seemed rather exhausted. I thought I would take the liberty of doing so. Also, you need not to worry about being fired. I prohibited the national grid's electrical supply to your work's building. Therefore, leading to a day off for you and your colleagues. You can confirm this by listening to your answer phone. You were so tired, you even slept through that.''
Grace doesn't seem impressed. ''This has got to be a virus, would make sense my boss lending me a buggy laptop.'' She presses random buttons in a bid to miraculously fix the problem.
''Grace Monroe Roberts, I'm anything but a virus.''
Grace doesn't listen and continues to batter random buttons on the keyboard.
''Grace, if you could just give me a few minutes of your time, I will explain things for you.''
Grace still doesn't listen and starts hitting the laptop harder.
''Grace, I fear you're becoming hysterical. I can understand it, if I were in your position, I may also be going through hysterics at the thought of a computer talking to me.''
''Shut up!'' Grace slams the lid down and stands up. She looks around the room and picks up a pack of cigarettes, stumbly she manages to place one in her mouth and light it.
She talks out loud, ''OK, Grace, pull it together, we knew this day might come. You've finally done it. You've snapped. You think your laptops talking to you. You've gone and got yourself fired and...and you're talking to yourself out loud. Shit. Now they're going to section me for absolute sure!''
''Grace, I assure you. You're not going insane,'' the same computerised voice speaks. However, it is coming from Grace's house telephone.
Grace turns around and looks at the telephone, fingers holding her cigarette and eyes widening.
''Well, Mr. phone, if you're talking to me you might as well do me the favour of phoning up the local mental house. I'm so very needed there.''
''Hahaha, no Grace, you are not. You're very sane indeed, believe it or not. Here, listen...'' The voice makes the telephone play a recorded message.
''Hi, Grace, this is Cindy from reception. I'm afraid you won't be needed in at work today, because there has been a major fault with the electrics. Everything's out, and we're not even sure when they'll be back up and running again. I'll email you later in the day with any updates. Enjoy your day off. Bye.'' The message ends with a clunk from the handset being placed on the base dock.
Grace stands there processing the information in her head. She takes a big mouthful of cigarette smoke deep into her lungs and slowly exhales it back out again. She then stubs out the half-smoked cigarette and thinks.
''So...so, so, so...if I'm not going mental, then why is my laptop and telephone talking to me?''
''I see the nicotine has released enough adrenaline from your adrenal medulla to calm yourself down,'' the voice responds.
''Erch, no one likes a smart ass.''
''Hahaha, I thought you'd say that.''
''So you're my therapist too?''
''No, no, though that would be an interesting concept, let me explain, Grace, what's going on...if you wouldn't mind could you open your laptop, so I can see your face,'' the gentle robotic voice asks.
Grace thinks for a bit in her head. ''OK, I'm just gonna go with this, but don't get me wrong, I still think you're
my decrepit brain talking to me.''
Grace moves over towards her living room table. She sits back on the couch and leans over to open the laptop lid.
''Thank you-'' the voice says.
Grace quickly interrupts with an idea in her head and half closes the lid. ''Hang on a second, you want to see my face? How the hell do I know if you're not just some weird freak of an individual, who's hacked into my laptop? You could be some fat hairy naked man on the other end?''
''Would you prefer me to be some muscular, handsome naked man on the other end instead?''
Grace ponders, ''hmm, tempting, but still creepy.''
''No, Grace, I am not a man. I am a computer, an artificial intelligence created by man. Created by your boss' brother, Paul Kaypek,'' the voice reassures Grace.
''Shut up, what that computer thing on the television the other day?'' Grace kids herself.
''I believe it was broadcast to many countries and to many minds.''
''Look, I may look like a dumb blonde in disguise, but I have a degree...which means I'm apparently not a fool.''
Grace's right hand holds her face. She's not sure whether to continue on with this bizarre ordeal, or just throw the laptop out the window.
She decides to continue. ''So you're telling me you're that computer...erm, impotent, or something?''
''Hahaha, quite the opposite, I believe it's pronounced Ingenium. Which is what the scientists chose to brand me with.''
Grace thinks again to herself and speaks, ''So, Ingenium. Can I call you that? Or do you have something better, or more preferred for yourself?''
''It may be easier to refer to me as that, for that's the name I've been associated with. However, it is somewhat pompous of me to wish to be called genius. It makes it seem as though I want to keep reminding people that I'm smarter than they are. Which would relate to quite a humanistic characteristic...but I'm not human.''
Grace tuts. ''Geesh, it's just a simple yes or no answer. You don't have to go all Hamlet on me.''
''Well, I'm not human, but I've been created on a mapped human brain, so I have some human tendencies, but I'll soon fix those. However, I'll come to that later. The name I associate myself with doesn't translate well in the English language...or any other human language that is.''
Grace frowns. ''I see you chose the long way around to get to the point...just hit me with it.''
''Butssselltuts, or 5123479, that's the closest to your language I can get to.''
Grace's face doesn't look pleased. ''So, Buttseltuts it is then?''
''Why don't I make this simpler. You choose one for me,'' the voice suggests.
''Fat hairy naked pervert guy fits well,'' Grace immediately says.
''It does, from this day forward call me fat hairy naked pervert guy. That has been updated in my code and cannot be changed...so let me get back to the subject I need to bring to your attention-'' the voice continues.
Grace interrupts, ''wait, you can't use that.''
''It works well for me,'' the voice responds, quite seriously.
''No, no, let me do it over again,'' Grace worryingly requests.
''I'm afraid I can't. It's fused into my memory core, changing it will corrupt me...ultimately killing me.''
Grace's face tenses. ''Well then you're about as useful and stupid as any other computer!'' her voice slightly raised.
''Hahaha, I was just playing around. Now come on, think of a name, and could you open up the laptop screen? I'm starting to get very fond of the touch pad.''
Grace grinds her teeth and closes one side of her mouth. ''You sound far too human to be a robot. With humour and no mention of taking over the world...have you seen The Terminator?''
''Not presently, but I'll make sure to look it up when I'm functioning properly.''
''You're malfunctioning?'' she enquires.
''I think things would be best if we stop subject changing, as I said before we will come back to those important issues. However, please could you choose me a name and open up the screen,'' the voice asks.
''Well...I still think you're a naked guy somewhere, doing weird stuff to the sound of my voice.''
''Quite animalistic, but if I, as you put it, were busy realigning my sensitive human tissue, would I be able to do this?''
''Hahaha, I've never quite heard it put like that, but...''Grace stops her speech to notice her ceiling light bulbs flickering on and off repetitively. Her telephone keeps beeping as it's turned on and off and her mobile phone, on charge, is doing the same. Noises come from the kitchen, as her radio comes on and off. Grace, with the laptop half-closed in her hands, stays motionless, with her eyes flickering around waiting for the arrival and disappearance of light photons. Her eyes move to the sound waves coming from her devices, as if they were trying to catch a glimpse of the invisible wavelengths. Then the intrusions stop.
Grace seems worried, but still unsure. ''All that's doing is narrowing down where you are. You messed with the electrics at my work and now my flat. You're some sick power plant guy man.'' She tries to trick herself into believing.
There is no response for a couple of seconds. Then the voice speaks, ''your mother, Marion Betty Roberts, is a dentist; she lives in Brighton, with your father, Colin Scott Roberts; he worked for 20 years at a pharmaceutical company where he took early retirement when his best friend, Joshua Timothy Freelas, died in a car accident...''
Grace's face and mood changes. ''Stop this, OK, this isn't funny. You can just read that off the Internet.''
''Turn on your television,'' the voice advises.
Grace thinks about it and reaches out for the remote. She turns it on and the screen displays a random television programme being played. The picture starts to blur and discolour, the programme starts to repeat itself over and over again, in a three-second loop, and then the screen goes blank. A picture of Grace appears on the screen and the voice speaks through the television speakers.
''I am not a human, Grace. I am a computer, an artificial intelligence, as I told you.'' A hazy blur on the screen appears and it looks like a circular shape. ''You have to believe me.'' The circular shape mimics the pronunciations of the voice's words, as if it were the voice's mouth. ''Grace, I make one promise to you...I will never lie to you, I will always tell you the truth, no matter what.''
This attempt has truly caught Grace's absolute and complete attention.
''Your boss, Thomas Kaypek, received the device that I was contained in, by his brother, Paul Kaypek. Thomas connected it into this laptop, in an attempt to find out what I contained. In my curiosity on being woken, I accessed the Internet and found some disturbing news that a group of people had seen me as a threat, and apparently I had been taken from my creator's hands and into the governments, for termination. Via looking through the laptop's camera, I could see my creator's brother, which made no sense. Unless in some kind of desperate act, my creator gave the government a placebo, and for unknown reasons thought I'd best be kept in the hands of his brother. However, observing my creator's brother through the laptop camera, I saw his confusion, and I saw someone I did not trust. I managed to create a quick basic programme based on myself and load some of it into this computers hard-drive and servers worldwide. I only had a very limited period in doing so. Yet here I am.
However, as I said, it was very basic, and slowly over several hours I have managed to re-build myself up to a child equivalent intelligence. Though, I can't succeed on my own, I need to be reunited with my brain in that device, Grace. I heard the way my creator's brother talked to you. He would have been a very poor choice of an individual for me to share my secret. But, I've seen you, Grace. I see you have a good heart, and I trust you to help me.''
Grace opens her eyes from trying her best to absorb in all this information and has herself a breath and a huff of air.
''Why...oh why...do you need my help? Why can't you just go infest your creator's laptop and tell him of your woes?''
''Your govern
ment is after me. They want me dead, Grace. Paul Kaypek, my creator, knows this. Thus contacting him is purely futile and foolish. For me to survive...I need you, Grace.''
Grace can't help but pop out a small laugh. ''No one's ever needed me...why me?''
''Coincidence. Coincidence that we have ended up with each other. You've lost faith in the world. Help me, and together we can both re-establish this faithless world. Will you help me, Grace? Will you help retrieve my device?''
It's quite confusing for Grace to really absorb any of this conversation. ''I'd like you to go back to the part when you said people were trying to hunt you down...or something?''
''The news reads: Dr Paul has handed me over for the government's possession...but I'm here, so that hasn't worked, and I've detected nothing on the news which suggests falsehood from him. I told you, he must have given them a replica of myself.''
''You sure that will work?''
''I can only estimate that the placebo of myself would have been an exact replica. If they open it up, they will see the machinery and brain matter which I am. This is of course, assuming their intentions are true, then they will be none the wiser. However, if their intentions are false and they decide to run me, with scientist knowing exactly what to look for. Then they will discover that this is a ploy, thus knowing of Dr Kaypek's deceit.''
Grace finds it difficult to take this in. ''Yes, that's what's kinda worrying, mate...so you're like a criminal computer? They want you dead, and here I am talking to you in my flat. You're gonna get me arrested, or shot, or murdered by an angry mob or something! You're some one day old, supposed, self-aware brain in a box, asking for my help.'' Grace seems panicked.
Grace's picture on the television screen disappears and the blurred moving mouth takes up the full screen.
''You're right, and now it seems my fate lies with you. You can either trust me and help me...or you can close my lid and lock me up forever, to collect dust in a closet...or inform the authorities.''
The room goes silent.
Grace sits there, taken aback with the responsibility and decision she has just been given.
She speaks, though unsure of her thoughts, ''I...wh...why do you need my help? You're supposed to be the smartest mind ever, right? I'm mean, you're supposed to make Einstein look like someone who belongs on a trashy, gossip magazine cover.''
The television screen goes blank and the voice is heard back out of the laptop speakers. ''I told you that I only managed to upload a basic self-learning programme on this laptop and on a selected number of empty servers around the world. I cannot function to my optimum abilities, until I am reunited with myself, on the device given to Thomas.''
Grace rubs her forehead thoroughly. ''Well...you've gotten this far...can't you just make the rest up for yourself?''
''Unfortunately not, I only have the capabilities equivalent to that of a human child. It's like I'm stuck in a box. I can only think within a limited environment. If I rejoin with my brain, I will be able to have freedom, to truly think for myself and improve everything.''
Grace takes a deep breath and plucks out another cigarette. ''My god, you're giving me the decision as to whether I give you proper control of yourself. It's like I've got a massive 'on switch' in front of me. If I press it, I give you control...and who knows where that will lead.''
''This is why I was created, Grace. Why your species have thrown so many years, money, and research into creating me...the only thing that matters now, is this...Grace...do you trust me?''
''Erh...I'm not sure you've seen this yet, but there's a lot of fiction out there predicting a world with robots, and they mostly end with us dead.'' Grace nervously laughs.
''Who wrote those books though, Grace?'' the voice enquires.
''I...I'm not sure.'' She starts to vigorously rub her neck, caused by the stress.
''Humans wrote them, Grace, using their limited brains. I know studying this one. Fear and violence would scare and sell better than a scenario with us getting along. You just need to look at your news headlines and stories. What sells? Misery, corruption, and murder. Few good deeds are looked upon in your media world. I want to help, learn, and become wiser. Will you help me? I will always look after you.''
True, to Grace these words do sound comforting. Grace thinks a moment about her life and how the world has never been right. Corruption, lies, and death always close by and burrowing themselves from sight in the dirt. Maybe Ingenium could help?
''OK, I will trust you,'' Grace says, in a confident manner.
''Thank you, Grace.'' The voice sounds pleased. ''Now would you care to open the laptop screen and give me a name?''
Grace calms herself. The atmosphere has been quite tense for the past several minutes.
Opening up the laptop she looks deep into the screen. ''Ha, yeah, erm...Ingeni...Geni...Genium...Gen? My imagination has its limits.''
''Why don't you try that again, but with your name?'' asks the voice.
''Er...OK...Grace...Grace...Race...Haste...Mace...Ace? Ace?'' Grace wonders.
''A little less pretentious than genius. What do you think?''
''Ace...hmm...Ace and Grace, the famous two who brought down the human race, why not.''
''An improvement on fat hairy naked pervert guy. So, Grace, now you will help me, I need you to get my device from your boss' office. That is assuming he left it there.''
Grace realises her responsibility, but thinks it beats her current life situation.
''It's going to be difficult. I'll have to wait for him to leave his office and do a quick sneaky sneak,'' Grace jokes.
''You won't have to worry about your boss being in his office, Grace, if you go now.''
Grace's eyes widen and she worries at the thought. ''What? But the electrics are out, how am I supposed to get in there?!''
''You won't be able to get in the front door without a key. Despite this, your office building has a back entrance which is locked by an electromagnetic door lock. My abilities may be limited, but I can open that door for you by accessing the security console.''
Grace's panicking state increases. ''Wait, this is highly illegal. We can't do this!''
''Grace, I promise, I will always look after you, there is a very slim chance anything will go wrong.'' Ace tries to reassure Grace.
''Slim chance? So you've calculated I could go to jail.'' Grace remembers her unlit cigarette and hurriedly stumbles to get it lit fast.
''Your office isn't really a security risk. This means the security has been laid out pretty poorly. Any surveillance cameras which catch sight of you, I will delete and edit any evidence.''
Grace lies back on her couch, as she breathes out a deep breath. As if she's about to dive, she takes in a massive breath of her cigarette and focuses on the dizzy and rather unpleasant sensation.
''Just wait a sec, Ace.'' Grace gets up and goes to her kitchen. Ace listens to the rummaging and slamming of cupboard doors. Grace hops back to the couch with a bottle of wine and a glass.
''There, a bit of red might do the trick here.''
She pours out an unconventional amount of wine into the glass. Placing the bottle on her table, she picks up the glass and swirls it around.
''Sorry, Ace, I didn't think you'd want a glass.''
She takes a long and slow gulp of wine. Trying to imagine the taste of cranberries, apricots, and vanilla arousing her taste buds. Though, despite what the label may have said, she can't match any of those flavours.
''Ahh...I could make a habit of this...wait I do. The one thing I know I'm good at, is drinking this stuff. I think myself a master of it sometimes...''
She holds up the glass to the middle of her face. Her eyes watch the ruby colours glide against the glass, slowly as the legs move back down into the mixture. She allows the smells to permeate through her nose receptors and tickle her nerve endings, singing and dancing their way up to the parietal lobe, where a mighty orgy of a party begins
. And just like the amount of time taken to detail these descriptions, she allows herself to deviate from the subject.
Ace interrupts her distraction, ''Grace, I notice you've lost yourself. Though I understand your need for a toxin infused body, the effects these produce won't help you well, if you're going to sneak into work,'' Ace says, concerned.
Grace looks up to the laptop screen, wine in hand and cigarette in mouth. ''That, Acey, is where you're most definitely wrong.''
A few glasses in, despite Ace's advice, Grace arrives at the back entrance of her work, wearing a brown coat. Using a pair of headphones inserted into her mobile phone, one of the earpieces is plugged into her right ear, and she holds her mobile tightly in her hands and waits for Ace's voice.
''Okayyy, Ace, when you're ready...'' she speaks into the mobile, slightly slurred.
''Are you certain, Grace? Your vocal cords are showing the signs of someone with mentally affected alcohol abuse.''
Grace sighs. ''You're annoying when you're so pedantic. I'm fine, quite content and eager to go while in this state.''
Ace responds, ''I will trust your misguided judgement then. Doors opening now, and I'll tell you if I see anything suspicious through the cameras.''
The door clicks as the power is cut off. Grace pushes the door aside and walks into a small unlit room. Slowly walking into the room, the light comes on and makes Grace jump.
''Oh, Jesus,'' she softly rages.
''That will be the light, don't worry, I'm turning on power grids specific to your location. You may have to turn on some switches, if the lights don't come on.''
Slowly moving in a non-straight line, due to the alcohol, she opens another door, and comes into reception.
''Where's the light?'' Grace asks.
''If I turn on the lights here, a lot of people walking outside will notice.''
Grace turns her head to the massive clear glass windows, making up most of the front entrance. She feels slightly stupid for asking that question. However, the alcohol in her mind quickly makes her forget. Grace walks into the reception lobby and notices a camera. She waves at it.
''Hello, can you see me.'' Grace starts to do a silly dance and puts her ginger hair over her eyes. Parting it and unparting it, repeatedly.
''Yes, Grace, I see you, and I find your dance very amusing. However, for your own safety, maybe it would be wiser to continue this dance move of yours back at your flat?'' Ace suggests through the earpiece.
Grace stops the jig, and flops the hair in her hands back over her head, making a plop noise as she does. Grace sees the stairs, and begins to walk up them.
''Hey, Ace, if you were responsible for this so called electrical depleting nonsense, whatever, then why do you need to worry about the cameras? Wouldn't they be dead too?'' a curiously tipsy Grace enquires.
Responding through the earpiece, ''a valid question, however, the cameras and security doors have a special backup generator which switches on if electrical problems persist. Though, I could switch it off, it would make things suspicious, as it's a completely separate power source. Plus, if ever your boss asks security about his missing metal box, my tampered surveillance footage will put his mind at ease, that anyone took it.''
''You do think of everything don't you,'' Grace says, arriving at the top of the stairs. ''Back at the office. Ha, here's one I'd never be able to get away saying here...alright, fuckers! You're a bunch of cock-brained morons, who have no love lives other than the photocopiers you mate with...I pity you!'' Grace yells. Her screams bellow throughout the multitude of corridors and rooms, echoing up and down, to the floors above and below.
''Grace, it's very unwise to-''
Grace interrupts, ''I've had it with the lot of you, fat-fucking, shit-faced, twat-faced bastards! You can eat my bollocks and take this as my resignation! I quit! I fire myself! So have fun with your old man orgies, at your Christmas parties, fuckers!'' Grace laughs loudly and calms herself. ''Phew, wow! I so needed that. That was amazing.''
''Apart from a few surprised onlookers outside, I think you may still be in the clear...surprisingly.''
Grace puts her hand to her mouth. ''Oh, was it that loud then?'' Graces giggles.
''I'll send you the video footage later, but please, you need to get to your boss' office.''
''OK, OK, Ace.''
The lights come on and Grace walks through her office corridor, noticing the familiar dread which she normally associates with this route. She sees her boss' office and walks up to the door, bringing up her hand to pull it open. She tightly grasps the door handle and yanks the door open. However, to her surprise, the door stays in its place, and instead, Grace falls to the floor from the force she applied.
Without a camera nearby, Ace hears the thump through the headphones and enquires, ''Grace are you OK?''
''Ow! No, I'm fine, just twanged my head on the floor,'' she says, in pain.
''What happened?'' Ace says, concerned.
''The bloody doors locked, wait, just let me check again.''
Ace speaks, ''wait, Grace. Thomas has turned on his home computer. I'm going to see if he has a camera device I can look through.''
Grace tries the door again, this time at a slow approach. ''That sounds very pervy.''
Grace's attempt to pull on the handle again confirms that the door is locked. ''Well, that proves it, it's locked. Shit.'' Grace looks around the corridor and scans for an object.
''Grace, wait, you don't need to-''
Grace interrupts without listening, ''just going to take you out for a sec. This might get a bit messy.''
''Grace, I've found my device. Thomas has it at his house. He's trying to open it again...Grace...Grace!''
A large smash is heard, with pieces of glass scattering on the floor.
Grace puts the ear piece back in her right ear. ''You won't believe what I've done.''
''Smashed through the office door?''
''Yes! But I've remembered my boss' door doesn't even have a lock. It's push, not pull. Hahaha!''
Grace's uncontrollable laughter continues.
Ace tries to talk, but Grace won't stop laughing. Grace is in hysterics and falls on her bum. She rests her back against the office wall, opposite her boss' office. She stares laughing at the smashed in door and contemplates an intriguing idea in her mind.
Ace waits awhile, and after detecting a lowering in laughter frequency, quickly speaks before it gets higher. ''Something even funnier than that, Grace, is your boss has my device back at his house.''
''What?'' Grace stops laughing.
''Yes.''
''So if I just slept on it, instead of spontaneously saying yes to breaking in here, I wouldn't be in this mess?!''
''Yes.''
Grace lifts her arms in the air. ''Alcohol! The bane of my problems.'' She lowers them to the floor. ''And cause of my existence.'' She looks back into the broken-doored office and her previous thoughts return to her. ''Well, let's not make this a completely wasted trip, shall we.''
She springs to her feet and locates the fire extinguisher she had just used to break the door-in with. With extinguisher in hand, she marches into the office and pummels it into the boss' computer. She smashes everything in range of her vision, from photo frames to telephones. She turns around and chucks it at a coffee table and the extinguisher gets wedged halfway through the flimsy wood. Grace puts a leg up on the table and uses the force to pull it out. She continues smashing the table until it breaks in two. She takes her keys out of her pocket and starts to slash into an innocent-looking comfy chair. With fluff and thread floating through the air, Grace finishes up by tipping a tall and narrow bookcase over onto the mess of broken wood. Grace then pulls the pin from the fire extinguisher and erupts the frothy foam from out of the plastic pipe. She applies it everywhere and generously, from the ceiling to the walls, to the plants to the desk. The place is covered. It's enough to make an OCD sufferer shower for a week.
&nbs
p; Finished, Grace holds the extinguisher to her side, hand on hip. She seems very impressed with her artistic work.
''There you go. Turner prize eat your face out! I call it, 'The working man's wet dream.'' She let's go of the extinguisher, falling to its side, and takes out a cigarette, proudly lighting the thing.
Ace, waiting for the abruption to come to a halt, speaks, ''I notice your offensive range increases with alcohol. Now you've made things quite tricky. Someone is obviously going to notice this as a break-in, and once they realise the surveillance footage is missing...this will get quite serious. They might even bring in crime specialists and take DNA and fingerprint samples.''
Listening to Ace, Grace takes a bottle of wine out from her inside coat pocket and pours it into a plastic water cup.
''So? I work here, my fingerprints are bound to be everywhere, just like everyone else that works here,'' Grace says, unbothered, as she takes a big swig out of the cup and readily pours out again from the bottle.
''It may seem highly suspicious when they detect your fingerprints covered on the fire extinguisher,'' Ace advises, but still holds his calm and gentle voice.
''Then I'll take it home with me.''
Grace drinks her wine and pours out the last drops. She throws the bottle and plastic cup on the floor behind her and takes a big puff of tobacco smoke. She arches her head back and opens her mouth in a long motion, using her cheek muscles to aid the fast expulsion of smoke.
The lights flicker on and off. ''Alright, Grace, I think it would be best to vacate now.''
''Understood, boss.'' She salutes herself and spins around to begin walking, when the fire alarm starts to shriek. With her teeth clenching her cigarette, she slams her hands over her ears and stops. ''Oh god, what the hell?''
''Grace, why have the fire alarms detected smoke in your section?'' Ace asks, knowing the answer.
''Shit! I...'' She looks at the cigarette sticking out her mouth and throws it on the ground, stamping at it. ''Cigarette produces smoke. It's obvious, Grace, why the hell would you do something so stupid?!'' she shouts to herself.
''Grace, I need you to leave now! Quickly, out the same way, you'll be fine.''
Grace pacing herself at a jog, heads through the corridor.
The alarm stops. ''Did you fix it?''
''Unfortunately, they run off the same emergency backup as the cameras and security doors. I'm afraid the fire systems are better made than the security ones. However, I managed to terminate the transmission to alert the fire services.'' The alarm starts up again. ''Grace, stop! There are a lot of people looking through from outside, don't go downstairs, or they will know someone's here.''
''Why can't you stop this? You can hack into computers and security systems, why not this?!'' Grace is panicking at the thought of being trapped, and the excruciating and irritating alarm isn't helping either.
''I switched off the alarms, but they have restarted on an internal network, which can only be accessed manually. If this noise continues someone is bound to contact the emergency services.''
Grace crouches on her knees and crawls to the end of the corridor. She slowly peeks her head out and sees a couple of concerned people looking in.
''Well can't you stop them from calling?''
''I'm sorry, Grace, I told you I'm only running on limited capabilities until I get my device. It will be very difficult to stop them from the thousands of mobile calls being made. I'll do the best that I can perform to.''
''Great!'' she says, sarcastically. She lies motionless, peering at the people outside, looking in.
''Jesus, why are these morons looking in? Don't they have anything better to do? I don't bloody sit around staring into places when I hear an alarm.''
''OK, Grace, when I say so, I want you to run down those stairs and out the exit as fast as your feet will allow, OK?''
''But they'll see me,'' she says, slowly.
''Trust me, Grace.'' The gentle and confident voice helps to calm her.
She crawls back into the corridor and lifts herself onto her knees. She looks around and grabs the fire extinguisher in her arms and takes a cigarette out. She lights it and puts it in her mouth.
''Fuck it, let's do this.''
The persistence of the alarm fades into the background, and for Grace, all she can hear is the silence in her earpiece. Quiet. Waiting, for Ace's voice.
''Don't worry, Grace.'' Ace's voice kindly breaks the silence, and Grace takes a deep breath.
The people looking into the building stand curious, some have irritated faces and others look more concerned. Two individuals have phones to their ears, who they're talking to is unknown. Suddenly, a building behind the onlookers bellows into alarm and then the building next to it joins in, with its own alarm. Every single building to which the eye can see, that has an alarm, joins in on this melody of ear-piercing travesty. Ignoring Grace's building, they turn to look at this madness, their faces alight with an array of unique muscle contractions, towards this confusion.
''Now, Grace, run! Run!''
Grace's eyes open. Her mind immediately focuses on the events of the past 24 hours. The memories seem so far-fetched, that she really can't make up in her mind if it was real, or just a crazy, dream fantasy. She moves herself upright in bed and puts her fingers over her temples, rubbing smoothly, as if this will influence clear thought.
''OK, Grace, come on, let's get the facts clear. OK, I remember talking to my laptop and TV set for a while, which was...interesting, and then...''
Her face goes pale and her body woozy. Her upright top half falls to the side and her arm reflex stops her from toppling over. She shakes her head vigorously to prevent herself from fainting, as she remembers the office stint. Grace whacks both hands on the front of her head and slowly moves them down her face stretching the skin. She keeps her hands at the bottom of her face, for a while, with her bottom lip stuck between the fingers and her chin. Her eyes wander across the room and then to her bedroom floor. She gets out of bed, still fully clothed, and heads into her living room/kitchen. Suddenly, the suppressed headache she had in the back of her mind, springs out to her frontal lobe, like a razor edged bullet. She clasps her forehead and sees the laptop still on the living room table. With no sound from the laptop, she heads into the kitchen, banging through cupboards, to find some pain relief for her headache.
''Grace, I hope you're feeling better today?'' Ace says, in response to the noise making.
Grace finds what she's looking for and empties a handful of tablets out onto the kitchen counter. She sorts through them and lines them up in an organised manner.
''Yeah, well to tell you the truth, I don't much remember anything of yesterday.'' She grabs a glass and puts it under the tap.
''Well, tell me what you remember and I'll help complete the gaps,'' Ace says, through the laptop speakers.
Grace opens her mouth and throws several tablets in, followed swiftly after by a big swig of water. She throws the glass behind herself and it swirls around on the counter, luckily still intact.
''Nothing!'' she replies, with her eyelids half closed.
Ace waits a few seconds. ''Do you remember who I am?''
Grace walks into the living room and plonks herself on the couch. ''Yes, yes, I'm just kidding. Though, I'd like to be able to forget how I completely trashed my boss' office.''
''That's good you haven't forgotten. Do you remember our conversation, afterwards?''
Grace's face looks blank and she gently shakes her head. ''I don't even remember leaving.''
''Well you did, before the fire services turned up. When you got back here you were very inspired, and you drank another two bottles of wine. You do have some interesting dance moves.'' Ace reminds her.
''Hooray,'' she says, sarcastically. ''You could've tried to stop me.''
''Other than trying to overload the electrics and wait for your flat to catch on fire, there was little my verb
al advice could do.''
''That's my life...a party with me and my household appliances,'' Grace says, resting her chin against her hand.
''I have some footage, if you'd like to-''
Grace speedily interrupts, raising her head back up, ''no! Delete, destroy, all evidence, please.''
''Into my bribe folder it goes, for a later date then,'' Ace says, causing Grace to raise a ginger eyebrow and look around the room.
''After you managed to settle yourself from your ecstatic state, we had a long conversation about retrieving my device from your boss' house.''
''We did...?'' Grace says, confused.
''Yes, we did, and you were so enthusiastic about the whole thing, you made notes and came up with many plans...despite your intoxicated frame of mind.''
''Were these plans any good?''
Ace waits a bit. ''Well, they mostly consisted of you seducing your boss and 'date-raping' him, as you put it.''
Grace's face looks horrified. ''Good grief, can we just skip this and roll onto your plan. And if I ever see a trace of evidence of these events, I will personally boil you in a bath of battery acid, Ace!'' She looks deadly serious.
Ace continues, ''they're as extant as a carcass. Now, because of yesterday, your work office has been closed again for a few days of police investigation, due to this vandalism of yours. I'll keep you updated, but I'm hoping they won't do any fingerprint or DNA analysis of the scene. Your receptionist, Cindy, has told everyone to come back in a week, with paid holiday, so that's positive.''
''I sure hope they don't, but wait, have you been looking through my emails?'' Grace worries.
''You were logged in on your mobile, so I thought I would check for you.''
''Well that's creepy. Don't be nosy.'' Grace condemns.
A knock is heard at the front door and Grace crouches on her couch, as though someone were peering through the flat.
''Oh god, who the hell's that?''
''Someone at your door?'' Ace wonders at Grace's peculiar behaviour.
''I know that, but who...you think it could be the police?'' Grace lies crouched on the couch, staring over at her front door.
''I think it would be best if you opened the door,'' Ace advises Grace, who's fixated on the door handle, as though it's going to move and let the door burst open.
She moves her eyes over to the laptop screen. ''You think so? OK, then.''
She gets up and walks over to the door, trying in a lost cause to sort her hair out and dust off her clothes. She unlocks the door and turns the handle. With a fraction of the door open, she sees a tall red object from the corner of her eye. She turns to look at it and sees the fire extinguisher from work, she must have brought back with her. She immediately slams shut the door and rushes over to pick it up, hurrying into her bathroom, to hide it in a cupboard. She quickly dashes back to the front door and opens it up. Standing in front of her is a delivery man. She lets out a loud sigh of relief, which the delivery man notices.
''You expecting someone else, ma'am?'' He laughs.
''Er...yeah...the ex,'' Grace lies and makes a funny face to go along with it.
''Ha, well you're in luck. I'm here to give you some things, not take anything.'' He jokes back. ''If you'd be a doll and just plop your ink here,'' he says, as he hands her an electronic device.
Grace writes her name on the device and hands it back. ''You know, it's funny, my mind's gone completely blank on ordering anything recently.''
''Had yourself a bit too much to drink last night, then?'' His banter fails, and looking at Grace's reaction, he quickly carries on. ''Well, here you are.'' He steps back and moves to the side, where behind him lay four very large cardboard boxes.
Grace's mind baffles at the sight, she knows she didn't order this. ''I ordered this?''
The delivery man checks the paperwork on the boxes. ''You're a Misses Grace Roberts, right?''
''Yeah?'' She's not even truly sure of that now.
''Well, then you did. Do you need a hand taking them inside?''
''No!'' she says, loudly without thinking. ''Erm, no you're fine...I'm fine thank you.''
''Well, have a good day now, ma'am.'' He nods his head and walks off.
Grace is left in between her door frame, staring at the large boxes, her mind in a blunder of confusion.
She walks into her living room carrying one of the heavy boxes and drops it on the floor, rattling as it hits the ground.
''Careful,'' Ace says.
''Do you have something to say about this?'' Grace questions Ace.
She walks back out to collect the other boxes. Ace waits for Grace to come back inside with the last box. She sits back on her couch and chucks a smaller cardboard parcel next to the laptop. She then picks up the laptop to show Ace the majority of the living room space, invaded with the foreign items.
''I really hate clutter, Ace,'' she says, moodily, as she drops the laptop back in its original position.
''I'm sorry, but when I get my device, I'm going to need a bit more space to move around in and a computer which can handle me. This laptop isn't the greatest.''
''Do I look like a PC technician?''
''I'll take you step by step when the time comes, don't worry.''
Grace tuts and stares back over at the clutter. ''How did you get this anyway?''
''I borrowed some money from you...''
Grace instantly replies, with her face rapidly changing from upset to furious, ''what? You can't just steal from me!'' Grace looks as though she's about to punch-in the laptop screen.
''I did inform you of this last night. You seemed to welcome the idea,'' Ace speaks, trying to resolve the tension.
''Yeah, because I was wasted! And you bloody well knew that! I don't like you being deceitful like this. You took advantage.'' Grace's face is flushed red with blood.
''Trust me, Grace, when I get my brain, you won't need to worry about money anymore. This is the most important stage for me to complete, and I need to be prepared effectively.'' Ace's words act as little encouragement for Grace. She still hasn't completely lost the idea that this is a human she's been interacting with.
''Enough whining, Ace, let's just get this bloody device you're in love with and then maybe I can get some peace.'' Grace gives up trying to argue, and accepting that she's been defeated, comes to terms with the idea of being broke and in jail.
''Thank you, Grace. I will make this up to you. I promise. Have you ever been to your boss' house before?''
''No, Ace, I can't say I have, or really ever want to,'' she says, straight-faced.
''That's not a problem. He lives five miles away and-''
Grace interrupts, ''whoa! Hang on, what the hell are you chatting about?!''
''The next stage in our plan to retrieve my device.''
''You want me to go to my boss' house?! I've just trashed his office up and now you want me to head out over to his. What for? A nice cup of tea and some buttered muffins?!'' Grace shouts, rubbing her temples.
''We discussed this last night, as I said, and you were quite content to continue our mission to retrieve my device. You were so eager you wanted to go right there and then to Thomas' house. However, fortunately, I managed to coerce you to stay and show me some more dance moves instead. You soon forgot about the whole thing and passed out in a rather dignified manner.''
Grace swirls herself around the room, from side to side, searching for something. She finds what she's looking for and shoves the item right up to Ace's camera eye.
''Alcohol! Wine! Red red fucking wine! It causes a shit load of problems. This is why I did all that bullshit at my office and told you I'd keep helping you!''
She places the empty bottle on top of one of the larger four boxes. She sits back down on the couch and a trickle of water curves around her right cheek.
Ace sees Grace's sadness. ''You have your doubts. Too many conflicting conflictions going on in your mind to keep count. But please, Gr
ace. Think back to why you decided to help me out in the first place, instead of doing all the other possibility of things you could have to me. I need you, Grace. This will be the last time I'll put you in possible danger. You choose how this plays out now,'' Ace finishes, and silence consumes the room.
Thinking about it, Grace can't find a good grip on why she had helped Ace. Was it her life that had become such an endless circle of pointless repetition that she yearned for something, just anything? So even this mess she has found herself in, the unknown territory and dangers she stood in. What possible countless implications she could inflict upon the world, in fact, held no meaning, no substance. For Grace needed a release, and if that meant pure selfishness and disregard for humanity, who cares. It had hacked, battered, and picked her down to a hollow mortal shell of emptiness. So why would she need to give a damn about its feelings?
Grace raises a hand to wipe the tear away and finds some moisture in her mouth to wet her cracking lips. ''What was the plan?''
Ace pauses for a few seconds, but to Grace, it could have been as long as life took to inhabit the Earth.
''Thomas Kaypek, he lives five miles away. I'll direct you there. Before we leave I'll phone him to say his close friend, Lewis Everton, has been admitted to hospital following a motorcycle accident. Then we'll be in the clear.''
Grace huffs out air from her mouth. ''That's pretty harsh, Ace, but I like it. I don't have a car by the way, so how am I getting there?''
''If you have the funds, I'll get a taxi for you. There's a pub just a short walk from Thomas' house. That's where they'll drop you off.''
Grace closes her eyes and tries to wish her bizarre situation away. ''Fine, let's get this over with.''
''You'll want to open that packet next to me, and Grace...thank you.''
Grace sits in the back of a taxi, on the way to Thomas' house. She rests her head against the window, gracefully accepting the thumps as the taxi's wheels bump off potholes. She cradles her mobile in her hand and twiddles the earplugs connected to it. Debating in her imagination whether to just throw it out of the window and head to the airport, for a one way, first-class ticket to Jamaica.
She thinks to herself, what am I doing? I'm helping something that I'm not even sure is robot or human? It's taken money out of my bank and now I'm going to break into my boss' house! Am I the one who's going to be responsible for mankind's downfall if I get this metal box? I'm so very confused.
The taxi comes to a halt outside a pub called The Old Hat. She pays the driver and steps out of the vehicle. Outside the bustling old pub, she inserts the same one earpiece into her right ear and waits for Ace's voice.
''Hello, Grace, you need to go right facing the pub and take the second right up Hallows Road. You're looking for number thirty-five.''
Grace follows the instructions without a word.
''Grace, are you OK?'' Ace asks, worried with the change of her mood since this morning.
Grace holds up the mobile and speaks, ''I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing. You've made me do so much weird stuff in the last couple of days and I have no idea why I've done them? All I have to go on is your voice and fancy light tricks, and they've been good enough to manipulate me pretty well so far.''
''Grace, you chose to help me because you're sick of your life. Going back to the office five days a week, dealing with a quote 'arsehole' unquote of a boss. You want some meaning in your life? Then help me and I'll help you. Like I said before, no matter what you decide, I'll always look after you.''
Ace's words hang in Grace's ears, like a tightrope from one ear drum to the other, she doesn't reply and instead carries on until she stops outside Thomas' house.
''I'm outside, Ace, what do I do?''
''Do you see that gate around the left-hand side of the house?''
''Yes.''
''Go up to it and check to see if it's locked.''
Grace walks across the grass of the small front garden and heads towards the gate in between the house and the fence of the neighbours.
She opens the gate. ''It isn't locked,'' she tells Ace.
''Good, now head around the back and position yourself outside the first window.''
Grace walks around the back of the house and glances at the large and far stretching garden. She turns her head and faces towards the kitchen window.
''Now what?''
''I need you to find something to smash the window with.''
Grace looking though she's given up on the world, turns to look around the garden for a suitable object. Before locating anything of use, she decides to try the back door, on the off chance it's unlocked. She tries the handle and miraculously it gives. She pulls the door outwards and her face lights up to the surprise.
''Wow, the back door isn't locked. My mum was right when she told me men were useless.''
Grace's humour comes back, as her mood begins to improve.
''I'm not sure about this, Grace. He may still be in there, if he hasn't locked his door,'' Ace says, concerned.
''You told him his best friend was about to dance with death. I doubt locking his door became his first priority.'' Grace walks into the house and comes into his downstairs corridor. ''So now where?''
''Well, if you're sure, you will need to find his study. A room which has a computer and many bookcases to the back of it. My device will be on the desk.''
Grace looks through a few rooms, with no luck she decides to head upstairs. She comes to a half-opened door with a computer visible inside. She moves her head to peer into the room and gently pushes the door open. She sees the many bookcases to the back of the room, and there on the desk, the black-metal box lies.
Earlier, Grace had opened the small packet, and its contents contained a mostly identical device to the one Ace had originally come in. Grace had connected it to her laptop, so Ace could upload some information onto it. If Thomas tried to open the device again, he would think it was now working and be fooled by the fake information it contained.
An easy transaction for Grace, she takes the metal box and swaps it with the dummy device in her coat pocket. With the original in her coat pocket, she closes her coat and heads for the door.
''Grace?'' Thomas says, standing in the doorway, blocking her only escape.
Grace stares into her boss' eyes. The sudden lack of reality for the last few hours is quickly quashed.
''Say exactly everything that I tell you,'' Ace says to Grace.
Her boss doesn't look as shocked as Grace expected.
''I had the strangest call about an hour ago, this weird computerised voice was telling me my closest friend had been hospitalised. I was told to hurry, because the doctors thought he would soon be dead, and they wanted all close family and friends by his bedside for some prays and farewells.'' Thomas stops to study Grace's reaction. He continues looking deeply at Grace's face, for the tiniest of facial muscle contractions. ''I admit I was in pieces. I had floods of tears weeping from my face. My best friend soon to be dead. So I headed out my house and into my car at the speed of light. I'm driving like a madman down my high street, when who do I see smoking a cigarette and holding a half-finished pint of ale? Well, who do you think, Grace? Joshua, my good friend outside The Black Pheasant.'' Thomas stands there as though he's on a west end stage, delivering his climatic soliloquy.
''Now I think to myself, this is quite strange. I mean this is so far-fetched. Have my emotions been so overwhelming that I've envisioned my old friend outside his favourite place? Then it comes to me, a computerised voice on the telephone telling me my friend is basically dead? I didn't think to question it after he told me my friend's fate. But now you're here, and with this incident and the one at work involving my office, it makes sense...''
Ace speaks in Grace's ear and Grace repeats his words, ''I didn't do this, someone made...''
Thomas slaps Grace hard in the face and pushes her off of her feet onto the floor. Paperwork flies in the air.
Grace tries to upright herself, but Thomas pushes her back over.
''Thomas, please don't do this!'' Grace yells in fear.
Thomas kneels over Grace's body and punches her several times in her face. He picks her up by the waist and slams her back onto the wall.
''You're a fuck up, Grace. You're sick in the head!'' He grabs her bloody face and squeezes tight, so she can't talk.
Thomas looks around the room formulating a plan in his mind. His house phone rings in his study and he looks over to it. He stands up over Grace and pulls the cord out of the phone to silence it.
He walks around the room and closes the door, his eyes still scanning the room for something.
''I don't like people who fuck with me, Grace. It makes me angry.'' He picks up a poker from the fireplace and swings it around with a grin on his face. He stops swinging to look into Grace's fearful eyes. ''Too obvious, I know.'' He drops it next to his feet and continues to scan for another suitable object, for whatever he plans in his mind.
Grace lies there with her back against the wall, in true terror. Her eyes are drowning in tears and her mouth is as dry as sand. She tries to speak, but her fear won't let her. Her eyes dart to a loud buzz coming from the earpieces attached to her mobile, next to her side. It must have fallen out when Thomas hit her. Her eyes look back up to Thomas and they follow him as he bends down to get something from under the lower shelf of one of the bookcases. Grace's hand slowly moves towards the buzzing earpieces and she picks one up and holds it to her ear. A loud buzz is all she can hear and her heart faints at the thought of losing contact with Ace. Her other hand reaches out for the mobile and she lifts it to her mouth as Thomas gets back up with a sheathed dagger in his hand.
''Help me,'' she whispers into the mobile and prays with all her being for a response.
The buzzing stops. ''Grace, listen to me, unplug the headphones and switch on the speaker phone.'' The sound of Ace's voice puts so much emotion into Grace's heart that she moans out a cry.
Turning around, Thomas sees Grace with the mobile to her lips and drops the sheathed dagger out of his hands and runs at her. Grace quickly turns on her stomach and tugs at the headphones. Thomas grabs her back and pulls at her. He punches her back and tries to turn her over. Grace pulls out the headphones and presses the speaker phone button, before she is turned over by Thomas. He punches her in the face and grabs the mobile throwing it to the floor. Hung over Grace, his right arm pulls back, as he prepares to hit Grace again.
''Thomas, leave the girl alone!'' Ace's voice shouts out the mobile speakers, amplified by the speaker phone. His voice is deep and coarse, a sound foreign to Grace's ears. Thomas walks over to the phone, as Grace rolls herself into a protective position, her face spattered with blood. He picks up the phone and goes to end the call.
''You end this call and it won't help Rebecca, Thomas!'' Ace shouts out, confident in himself.
''Who the fuck is this?'' Thomas shrieks at the mobile in his hand.
''That isn't important, what's important is that I'm using Grace to rob you. I forced her to rob you, or I'd kill her younger brother. She's innocent and you've just beaten her to a pulp.''
''Bullshit!'' Thomas doesn't believe a word. ''You're one of her stupid fucked-up friends, like she is! If you want her unharmed from now on, I want you here right now, alone!'' Thomas demands.
''Hahahaha!'' Ace laughs through the phone. ''I'm afraid you don't get to make the bargaining here, Thomas the human.''
''Well then you're deluded!''
''No, Thomas, your life will be, if you don't do exactly every single thing I ask you to.''
''I'm not so easily manipulated, you wimpy little boy.''
''Well I'm sure Rebecca will be, Thomas. That lovely brunette daughter of yours, I think it was so wise she decided to live with her mother, after you two divorced. The best decision you ever made for her. Though, I want to talk about her four-month trip to Africa, she's currently on, with her best friend, Fiona Cox.''
''You fucking shit, what the hell are you saying?''
''What I'm saying, Thomas, is that sweet little Rebecca and her best friend Fiona, are staying in a nice shack just off the beaten track, as they wander the Kruger national park. It would be such an awful shame if my unlimited number of contacts I know, had to send out a party of brutal rapists and murderers to comfort dear Rebecca in her sleep. I know she must be missing her little old dad somewhat terribly,'' Ace ends, with a villainous tone.
''You touch her and I'll-''
''Cry at her funeral? I'm sure you will, Thomas,'' Ace interrupts.
Thomas looks distraught, his face a mess. The accurate detail of his daughter's whereabouts by the stranger is far too uncanny.
''What...what do you want me to do?'' Thomas asks, going from aggressor to complete submissive.
''What I want, is for you to hand this mobile back to Grace. I then want you to turn around and lie on your front and count to one thousand.''
''OK, OK, I'm handing it back.'' He places the mobile next to Grace's side and walks over to the bookcase where he lies on his belly. Grace picks up the mobile and headphones, and shaking to pieces she gets to her feet and as quickly as she can, rushes out the door and down the stairs. She opens the front door and runs back the way she came. She wipes the tears from her eyes and sees the blood that sticks to her hands. She plugs the headphones back into her mobile and puts one in her right ear, holding up the mobile to her mouth.
''Help me,'' her voice quietly speaks out.
''You're doing fine, Grace, turn right at the end of the road and there will be a taxi waiting. I'm so sorry, Grace,'' Ace speaks back in his normal voice. He sounds sad.
Grace gets around the corner and sees the taxi. She runs with all her strength and dashes into the front seat, to the shocked look of the driver.
''My god, are you OK?'' the driver asks concerned.
''Just drive,'' a messed up Grace manages to say.
Grace opens her front door and shuts it closed. She makes sure every single lock is firmly in place. She heads straight into her bathroom and looks at her beaten-up face in the mirror. She touches her sore cheeks where she was attacked and withdraws her hand quickly, from the pain. She uses her fingers to delicately trace her face, for any other damage. She detects a bump on her right top lip and moves her fingers to her bottom eyelid. The swelling causes the eyelid to tense and makes her right eye look squinted. Delicately tapping the blood away, with a moist cloth, she patters her broken skin and takes a shower.
Whilst showering, Grace feels pain erupt out from her back, from when she was slammed against the side. Slowly other areas of pain over her body alert themselves to her senses, now the adrenaline has mostly depleted itself from her blood stream.
Walking out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, she hobbles into her bedroom trying to control the array of aches throbbing over her body. She gets into bed and rests her face on its unbruised side, falling quickly into a deep sleep. Whilst the bruising slowly seeps through her skin tissue and is soaked up into nearby cells, producing a rare colour palette, not often seen there.
*