became even more flustered when I was not granted immediate admittance. I demanded an explanation and was told--somewhat archly--that a new security protocol was in place and that I would have to be patient. Meanwhile, I was left cooling my heels, sweating into my shoes, and thinking wild, desperate thoughts like somebody has been fucking with the SENTINEL software and I have a pretty good idea who my little hackers are...
The young soldier was standing off to the side, watching me. I found myself filled with this sudden, crazy spark of hope that the kid retained enough of his humanity to find my predicament at least mildly amusing. I think at that moment I would have given almost anything under the sun to see that...boy smile, just once.
Just one...blessed...smile.
My house did eventually decide to let me in--but even once I was inside, handing my coat to the closet, I didn’t get the feeling that I was completely, well, safe. Something was different, there was a strong sense of otherness to the place, as if the movers had only just left.
I wanted to chalk it up to Marvin’s dope.
I passed through a silent, reproachful kitchen. I paused in the hallway, taking a moment to gather myself together...can't let them know mustn't let them see--
Terry noticed me first. He nudged Marguerite and the two of them swivelled their heads around to stare at me. Their eyes were flat and cold; devoid. There were identical welts high up on their left cheeks. You could clearly see the outlines of Donna Tyler's long fingers on their soft, beautiful skin.
"Mommy's in her room," Marguerite said, without any noticeable inflection.
Terry snickered.
I made a small, noncommittal sound and started edging my way past them, taking great pains to be as unobtrusive as possible. It seemed to be a sound strategy as it got me to the stairs without further incident.
Ascending, I calmly asked myself what I intended to do.
First of all, find Karen...I had to talk to her and maybe even warn her--no, no, no, it wasn't like that. After all, Terry...Marguerite, they were our children and we were their parents and that had to count for something in the grand scheme of things, didn’t it?
I tapped on Karen’s door, softly at first, barely brushing the wood with my knuckles. Just letting her know I was there, and that I needed to see her...and tell her about what was happening out there, in the streets and avenues of the city--
And in here: in the still, white rooms of our home. In the growing spaces between us; behind closed, locked doors like the one I was knocking and knocking and knocking on, getting older by the second.
© Copyright, 1997 Cliff Burns (All Rights Reserved)
from the collection The Reality Machine
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