Conduit

Ch. 3

Minutes standing in the garage felt like hours. I heard Frank. I listened. A large part of me understood him completely. The Earth's dependency on machines was a matter of life or extinction. Literally. The damage we, as humans, had done to the planet was irreversible—everyone knew that. It was taught to kids in school and broadcast on the morning news.

But the truth? The fact that machines had evolved and learned to rebel, to say no—Lyons or the government would never admit it to the public. As much as they fed into the world's doom and gloom, they wouldn't douse the small bonfire with gasoline. That was suicide.

Yet, the rest of me, the long-forgotten Garret who officials chose to ignore up until now, felt that joining forces to help them was blasphemy. It was my suicide. Forget dousing a fire with fuel to make it burn. I would be walking straight into the flames, allowing them to burn their mistakes as they erased my existence.

My father and grandfather fought too hard against them for me to give in and help.

But the rest of me remembered the love they had for the machines and the hope they had for our people.

Leaning against my grandfather's desk, I pushed the old papers out of the way, lowered my head, and breathed. Deep, long breaths.

"Elijah." This time Victoria didn't knock. Not that she needed to. This was her home. This garage was her birthplace. She had much a right to be here as I did.

I looked back at her as her footsteps entered and came toward me. "What is it?"

I knew what it was. I'd left Frank in the living room. His voice echoed quietly toward the garage. A phone conversation. With whom? Wasn't sure, but I could assume it was someone at Lyons. Either they called to check up on him, or he called them to give them an update. I'd let the man have his privacy, even though his employers spent months invading mine.

"Elijah, you have to help Frank and Lyons." Victoria left no room for an argument. It sounded more like a calm and respectful order than a pleading request. I'd given her free will, yes, but I'd never expected her to use it against me.

Looking back at the desk and its mess, I shook my head. "I don't have to do anything."

"You do." Victoria came closer. Once behind me, she grabbed my arm, turned me, and helped me sit in my chair. I purposely looked at the floor to avoid her gaze. She'd already looked at me in the living room and left too many ideas in the air. In my head. I went into the garage to be alone, to sort through them. Not to be interrogated by my Personal.

"Look at me." She touched my face. "You need to help him and Lyons."

"No." I gently took her hand, moving it away from my cheek. "I don't. It's my right to say no."

"As a citizen of this country, yes," she agreed. Then shook her head. "But as a Garret on Earth, no."

She made me sound like an alien. I wasn't any different than Frank out there, or Lyons, whoever they were. I was just a guy who was good with machines because it was in my blood. The skill of it all. To look at a circuit board and immediately knowing which wires went where. Was I born with it? No. I learned by seeing, listening, and reading. If I could do it, so could everyone else.

Clicking my teeth, I looked straight into her emerald eyes. I was waiting for a flash or one of her mechanical reactions, but nothing. I had her attention. "My family doesn't owe the planet anything," I said quietly. "I help people—yes. But I do that because we need money, Vicky. I need food and you need parts, but I won't help those who," I pointed behind her, at the door leading into the house, "rip people off and would rather take everyone's money until the world dies. Their mistakes are not for me to fix. I'm not some world savior."