Harrison sat in the living room of Lisa's house, fidgeting uncomfortably as pictures of Reiner smiled at him from the mantle and the walls. He wondered why she hadn’t taken them all down.
“Not even today, Lisa?” he called into the next room. “It's his last chance.”
“No,” came the even reply. “I asked you not to bother us about it anymore, Jay.”
“I know, I just...yeah. Okay.”
A week had passed since the first-labor disaster. Lisa had gone deep inside herself in reaction to the tragedy. A whole generation of students lost. The City economy would reabsorb all of the prepared entry jobs soon enough, but the people's psyche would remain forever scarred over the terrorist attack. The entire police force of City Thirty-Eight was combing the under-City for Cullers—brutal stuff that reminded Harrison of his military days.
At the center of it all was Reiner. He had supposedly set his neuro-feed to transmit for the entire incident, according to the reports Harrison had bribed some techs to obtain.
Turned out the recorded feed was useless. The dead Culler corrupted it somehow just before his partner had attempted to free the chained boy. The techs were afraid to tool with Reiner's regrowths, now. ICD wanted him fully coherent for the execution. The event looked to be the largest neuro-spectacle in the history of the Cities.
“The masses liked your idea after all, partner,” Harrison whispered sadly. He doubted he would ever fully discover what drove his partner to murder over the course of a single night. But even temporary insanity—or Culler puppet masters—would not spare Reiner's life. The toll was too great, and ICD had to punish someone, especially with no real Cullers in hand after another attack.
“It just seems like the right thing to do,” Harrison persisted. Lisa seemed intent on acting as though Reiner had never existed.
“He murdered...I can't even speak the words.” Lisa's voice quivered through their modest apartment. “Stood by for another. How do you lecture us about anything to do with him?”
Harrison swore to himself, wondering how that information leaked to the masses so quickly. “It's the man's dying wish.” He would ask how she found out about the children later. ICD couldn’t afford to be so careless with information. “Would it hurt to let him see his son, just once? Its all he asks me about. 'How does he look, what color are his eyes?' All he wanted was to make you happy. The neuro-feed unit, all of it. You should really go see him, Lisa.”
A bitter laugh came from the nursery. “The eyes? How ironic. They only opened this morning.”
Harrison entered the unfinished nursery reluctantly. Only one wall was painted a bright blue, the other three remained in the City's generic, optic white. Lisa stared down into the crib and Harrison joined her. The infant's head wobbled, taking in his presence. Harrison frowned.
Lisa gave him a sharp look. “What is it, Harrison?”
“They look...brown? That's a surprise. From your side of the family?”
Lisa grimaced. “Ben's father had an odd saying. 'The eyes are windows to the soul.' He never liked the idea of us.”
“Well, he missed out on something special,” Harrison managed. She smiled at him then, and her green eyes—regrowths, undoubtedly—seemed especially bright. Freckles played hide and seek across her olive skin, her dark hair hung loosely to her shoulders. Haggard as she was, she still looked beautiful. “No, definitely from my husband. I'm sure he'll be happy to see that, before he’s finally free of his suffering.” She paused, watching the infant with an unreadable face. He gurgled happily in his crib. “Will they let us speak with him?”
“Yes,” Harrison said hopefully. Free of his suffering? That’s one helluva way to look at things, he thought. But Lisa looked up at him expectantly, so he set worry aside and nodded his encouragement. “Of course.”
“I've changed my mind, then.” She smiled at Reiner's son. Harrison couldn’t say why, but something about her expression set his teeth on edge. “We would like to go see him after all.”
*****
Also by DaVaun Sanders...
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