Dream Drive Ch. 05

Shot walked up to Jackson. "I'm a sergeant, kid," Shot said, "so cut the crap for a second. What's your name?"

"Jackson."

"After the president? He was a badass too."

"I dunno. Never asked my mom why she picked that name."

Shot nodded at Jackson appraisingly. "They call me Shot. You live around here?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you kick Hansen's ass?"

Jackson looked around. "Al's never overcharged me. I didn't want to wreck the place."

Shot hacked another laugh. "You're a slick motherfucker, Jackson. I think you got the right stuff." Shot produced a small card – not of plastic, but paper. "You give me a call some time, and I'll set you up." He leaned in and patted Jackson on the shoulder. "I'm gonna let this one slide, but don't pull that shit again, alright?"

"...sure."

"Keep your nose clean." Shot nodded to Al, then left. The bell tinkled as the door shut.

Chaki got up and went to Jackson. She touched her hand to his face. "Are you alright? What in the world were you thinking?"

Jackson smirked. "I'm down about 85 HP," he said, keeping his voice low. "That guy throws a hell of a punch."

"Jackson," Al said, "you can sit here a minute until they're gone. Then I'd like you to leave. Don't come back for a little while, okay? Maybe Shot will let this go, but he won't be babysitting Hansen every time."

"Yeah. I got it."

Al nodded, then retreated into the back of the store. Chaki looked out into the street as the roar of a car's engine peeled through the door. She heard tires squeal on the pavement, and the sound faded away.

"Who were those men?"

"Organized criminals," Jackson said. "You can think of them as anti-police."

"...that doesn't seem good, especially judging by their behavior," Chaki said. "But I don't think I like the police much, either."

"There's a lot of groups in the Sprawl that do rackets – they come around to local businesses and collect protection money. That was the card that Al gave them. Bad things happen to the people that refuse to pay."

"Well, at least the police don't steal from people."

"That's just called taxes, instead of protection money."

Chaki put her hands on her hips and huffed. "Isn't there anyone that isn't just out for themselves?"

Jackson looked at her with a flat expression. Chaki felt a sick sort of worry that she'd stumbled onto a fact he'd been trying to communicate to her for quite some time.

"There are good people in the world," Jackson said. "But there's more people that don't care. Maybe it's the war. Maybe they're like me. I don't know. I don't care. It's a sick sort of cycle."

"You do care," Chaki said. "You just don't know what to do about it."

Jackson didn't answer. He looked out the windows of Al's shop. He was remembering something.

"I think you were right," Chaki said. "I was...naive, in thinking there should be a simple solution. But I'm starting to understand a little better. There are good people in your world, Jackson – people like you, and Al. But there's no place for them to go."

"Maybe." Jackson took a breath. "Anyway, that Shot guy said he was a sergeant – that's the level above your usual member. It's also the ranking system used by the Red Eagles. Did you see the lapels on their suits?"

Chaki shook her head. "I missed that."

"If you see what looks like a red hunting bird on someone's clothes, just keep your distance," Jackson said. "They spawned out of the ultraconservative movement, but that part of them fell by the wayside a few decades back. Now they're just thieves with badges."

"I see," Chaki said. "Power turns men into animals."

"...Chaki, I..." Jackson's lips firmed up. "I'm sorry. I let that fucking asshole just...I should have reacted quicker."

"It's fine," Chaki said. "I will survive being touched. But why? You could have easily defeated them."

"I reacted," Jackson said. "I've seen those guys before, but they didn't see me. They..." He turned his left hand over. At the moment, the twisted scar was gone, leaving only pale skin. "I didn't always have these abilities, Chaki. You survive by putting your head down and keeping quiet. So that's what I did. I didn't know how much it was a habit. It was an effort just to realize I didn't have to sit there and take it. And then I was trying to think of a way to get rid of them without exposing my magic."

Those words said more about Jackson's Earth than anything else Chaki had seen or experienced. He was a good person, beaten into submission by a cold world that simply did not care about him. And the goodness had bled out of him, slowly, until he started to become just as cold and uncaring.

But it had not won. He had hung on. The core of himself was untouched, the goodness she sensed under the ice-steel and the rust.

Chaki pressed against him, and hugged him. "Jack."

She felt his arms embrace her. "Chaki?"

"...nothing. I just wanted to hold you."

His hand rubbed her back. "Okay." They stayed there for a moment, and then he took her hand. "Let's get out of here."

"Goodbye, Al," Chaki shouted. "Thank you for the pizza."

Al's voice rung over them as they pushed out the door. "You're welcome, young lady!"

They made the short walk back to Jackson's home. Chaki had been preparing for a long hike up the stairs, but instead, they boarded something called an elevator, which was rather like a closet that was propelled up and down by atom-magic. Jackson explained that only the handicapped were allowed to use it when heading downward.

His apartment hadn't changed. It was dirty, smelly, and quiet. They ducked back into his room. She was starting to understand why he kept the space so simple and clean. It was his island escape from a very confusing world.

Chaki was tired of things she didn't understand. Her brain felt like a muscle that had been worked too hard. And yet, for all his words about heading back to Isis, he had sat down at his computer.

Chaki watched him type. She wasn't sure how he could take in everything that was on every screen, make a decision about what he wanted to do, and then leap into another screen. She thought that she could have spent an hour taking in everything on just one page of his internet box.

"How long are you going to be?"

"Just a bit," Jackson said.

"What are you doing?"

"I asked Shaka about what runes are," Jackson said. "I'm trying to find more about that."

"Runes are runes," Chaki said. She leaned over Jackson's shoulder, trying to interpret the monitor as it flashed and flickered with his clicks and clacks. "They invoke the power of the spirit."

"But where did they come from?"

"The One-Above-The-Sky," Chaki said.

"Okay, but that doesn't help me understand them better," Jackson said. "Shaka said that runes might be the written form of the very first language that there ever was. The divine language."

"Well, Shaka knows many runes, though she's told me she doesn't know them all," Chaki said. "I can't imagine she has many gaps in her knowledge."

"Filing those gaps might be important," Jackson said. "Anyway, there's something besides that."

"What?"

"My world has to have magic," Jackson said. "Magic transported me to Isis. There's magic on our side, buried somewhere. If Emil Mohammed found it, so can I." Jackson was reading small black text on a white background. "According to this, the oldest recorded written language is a form of proto-hieroglyphics. That actually makes sense."

"What on earth are those?"

"That was the written language an ancient people called the Egyptians used," Jackson said. "But they had a standard alphabet; there wasn't a picture stand-in for every word, like with runes. Runes are more like Chinese."

"Is Chinese a different language?"

"Yeah. But what I'm thinking is that the Egyptians adapted what was already there. Maybe they adapted part of it; or maybe runes work like an alphabet in a way we don't understand. At the least, there's no evidence showing Chinese is as old as it needs to be. It could have evolved separately."

Chaki stood straight and rubbed her forehead. This was getting confusing. Again. "Languages don't change, Jackson. They just are."

"Over large timescales, they do change," he said. "The Egyptians lived over 4,000 years ago. The proto-hieroglyphs could be another thousand, maybe two thousand older than that."

Chaki sighed. Her mind was just too used up to follow this. "Jackson, is there a place nearby I can take care of nature?"

Jackson leaned back. "Huh?"

"I need," she said, "to do what everyone needs to do after a long time."

Jackson tilted his head, then looked at his bed. "I thought you didn't need to sleep either. You can use my bed if you want."

Chaki's jaw clenched. "Jackson, I need to urinate."

Jackson's cheeks turned red. "Oh. Um...go into the hall. Use the door between my mom's room and mine."

"Is it as dirty as the rest of the apartment?"

"No, I keep it clean."

Chaki felt a sense of relief. Jackson's standards of hygiene were definitely high. "Good. I'll be right back."

"Take your time. I think I'm gonna make a phone call."

Chaki shut his door behind her. She was alone in the dusty, garbage-strewn hallway. She tiptoed across the floor, then creaked open the door he'd mentioned. They hadn't heard his mother again; Jackson suspected she'd left.

The bathroom was made of hard white tiles and was very clean. In front of Chaki was a shiny white basin with a rod of metal hanging over its center. To the left was a large plastic depression, enclosed by a curtain of cloth. To her right was a shiny sort of seat, made of the same white material as the basin.

She suddenly realized that she had no idea what to do.

Chaki hesitated there for a moment, sighed, and turned back around to seek instruction.

Jackson was still at his computer, but he'd pulled some sort of device near his mouth. A grey square on his monitor had taken the place of his language research. Words across the top said Dialing: Crux Customer Service.

"Jackson?"

Jackson cocked his head. "Hang on a second, I'm on the phone."

"But –"

Jackson raised a single finger, silencing her. A voice echoed from his monitor. "Thanks for calling Crux Software's customer service department!"

"Hi, yes, is this –"

"I'll be happy to guide you to the department you're looking for! If you know the extension of the party you wish to dial, please do so now. If not, remain on the line!"

The cheery voice on the phone made it sound as if waiting on the line was the most exciting thing that could happen to anyone all day. Jackson did not look enthusiastic. He made a groaning sigh from the back of his throat.

The computer was quiet for a moment, and then a new, male voice came on. "For customer service, say, customer service."

"Customer service," Jackson said.

"Please remain on the line while I connect you to our customer service department."

The line went quiet again. Chaki frowned. "Jackson," she said, "if you were calling customer service to begin with, why did it have to ask if you wanted customer service?"

Jackson shrugged and shook his head helplessly. "One of life's big questions."

"Speaking of which, I have...uh...other questions."

The voice interrupted her just as Jackson was starting to give her his full attention. "Would you like more information on our software, or hardware products?"

"Software," Jackson said.

"For gaming and entertainment, say –"

"Gaming and entertainment," Jackson said without waiting. "Isis. Representative. Person. Human being."

Chaki bent slightly. She was starting to get uncomfortable. "Jackson –"

"Chaki, just hang on, alright?"

"Welcome to Isis customer service!" The cheery voice was back. "Unfortunately, as the Beta has not yet been officially released, setup for our automated service is still in progress. If you would like to speak to a representative, please say, 'representative'."

Jackson's voice turned curiously hopeful. "Representative?"

"We're sorry, but setup for these services is still in progress."

The line went blank, hiccupped into static, and then came back again. "If you know the extension of the party you wish to dial, please do so now. If not, please remain on the –"

Jackson slapped his hand to the keyboard, cutting the voice off. "Yeah, fuck you too. Whatever. I'll just email them." Jackson sighed. "I don't even know where to start. Hi there, I'm one of the competition finalists. Just wanted to touch base about the magical pentagram curse thing that was on the data chip."

"Jackson!" Chaki said.

He swiveled in his chair. "Oh, sorry. What did you want?"

"Um, your...uh, you called it a bath-room? I don't know how to use it."

Jackson stared at her for a moment, then he burst into laughter. He hacked out an explanation between wheezing breaths.

The sound of his mirth followed her back into the hallway. She returned to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. "Damn horse's ass."

She lifted the toilet seat experimentally. As he'd said, there was a pool of water to...put things in. Why on earth did they intentionally ruin perfectly good water? Just when she thought she was starting to get a grip on how things worked in Boston, something new tripped her up.

Chaki finished quickly. She took a step into the hall, then stopped.

A woman was standing halfway outside a door at the other end of the hallway, looking back at her. She had blonde-brown hair, the same color as Jackson. There were dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept in weeks.

The woman squinted. "The hell...who are you, and what are you doing in my house?"

Chaki stiffened. "Are you Jackson's mother?"

"Yeah. I am. Not that the ungrateful bastard treats me like it." She moved fully into the hall. She was wearing what Chaki had come to know as a T-shirt. It was very big on her, but it still only made a very, very short dress. "So who are you? That kid finally get the balls to ask a girl out?"

Chaki wasn't sure what she was getting at, but she did know what was being called into question. "Jackson is much braver than you realize."

"I guess it's good he's done something besides sit in his room all day, but he won't even clean the house. He's afraid of moldy food."

Chaki bristled. She swept her hoody straight with her hands, trying to brush away her irritation. "My name is Chaki. I...do have a relationship with Jackson. We are...well, he's courting me."

The woman cocked her eyebrow. "Where'd you say you were from?"

Chaki needed to avoid that topic. "Might I have the honor of your name?"

"Sandra Vedalt," she said. "Are you a foreign exchange student or something?"

"I'm not sure what you mean." Chaki wiggled her toes on the wood floorboards. The hard surface felt odd under her moccasins; she was used to soft soil. "You should think more highly of Jackson. I think he's an amazing person."

"He plays video games and masturbates in his room all day. Some girls are into that shit these days, I guess."

Chaki frowned. Jackson had told her what she was like, but sometimes things became distorted when those close to you were involved. She wanted to give Sandra a fair chance. She cleared her throat. "He goes to school, too," she said, "and he is great with computers."

"Going to school ain't a fucking accomplishment, Chiki."

"Chaki," she corrected.

"Whatever."

Chaki's lips pressed together. "And he didn't just go to a normal school. He went to the institute for talented young men. It said right on the sign."

"...are you talking about Craig Johansen?"

Chaki smiled, happy that Sandra had recognized it. "Right. That was the name."

Sandra started laughing.

Jackson's laughter had not been at Chaki, really; it was more about the situation. Chaki might look back and smile at her own ignorance. Sandra's laugh was different; it was the cold, half-wheezed sort of laugh. She was not laughing for joy; she was laughing at Chaki.

Chaki's nose scrunched up. Sandra's breath smelled like smoke. "What's so amusing?"

"My little shithead, going to Craig Johansen? That's the funniest thing I've heard all week. Chaki, if he got into your pants by bragging about bullshit like that, you must be even dumber than he is."

"He saved my life," Chaki said.

Sandra's laugh turned into a snicker. "With rock and roll?"

Chaki wasn't sure what that meant, but it sounded like more mockery. She folded her arms. "Jackson never brags. He can tease, and be a little bull-headed, but underneath it all, he's far too hard on himself. I believe I am starting to understand why."

"Oh yeah? Let's hear what my son's girl thinks about him."

"I think," Chaki said, "that you have hurt him so horribly that sometimes he believes the things you tell him. That is what I think."

"You see this house?" Sandra said. "I own it. Jackson's a legal adult. He can stay here because I let him. And you." Sandra pointed a finger at Chaki. "You can be here because I let you, too. So keep the bitchiness to yourself, or you can find somewhere else to fuck."

"I will show you respect as soon as you earn it," Chaki said. "You've been nothing but rude to me."

"Does the truth hurt?" Sandra said. "You must be a real bottom-feeder to go after Jackson. Did he get you some of my stuff? I knew I went through my last bit of dope too quickly."

"Jackson didn't get me any of your stuff," Chaki said. "I am honored and thrilled to be courted by him. He has strengths that you don't appreciate."

"You're talking in circles. Whatever. Weed is cheap." Sandra stepped up to where Chaki was standing. "I gotta piss. Clear off."

"...Jackson still loves you," Chaki said.

"Fuck off, Chiki."

Chaki fixed her gaze on the woman. "He loves you. It hurts him when you treat him like you do. That is why he hides from you – not because he is a loser, like you think, but because he can't stand to hear what you have to say anymore. That is why he thinks so little of himself. He can't bring himself to discount your words, even if you are a wanton whore and your mind is filled with intoxications."

Sandra shoved Chaki out of the way. Chaki stumbled; when she stood straight again, the bathroom door was clicked shut. There was the sound of running water from the basin.

Chaki stood there for a minute, and then returned to Jackson's side. He had folded his legs up into his big swivel chair. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, squeezing him in a hug.

He looked up at her; the edges of his lips were curled with humor. "You figure out the toilet alright?"

"The things I tolerate from you, Jackson." She briefly considered telling him about her meeting with his mother, but decided that he had enough on his mind. She examined his computer screen. There was a picture of a scrawny girl with golden-blonde hair. Bits of information were arranged neatly next to her image. "Who is that?"

"That's Rachel's public ID. Rachel Ransfeld, apparently."

"...is there a relation to our friend?" Chaki asked.

"I think it's just a coincidence," Jackson said. "Charles never mentioned any family besides his dad. If he had a sister, it would've come up."

"I see," Chaki said. She wondered how close he and this Charles person had really been. "So you're looking up her information, then? Is this something everyone can see?"

"Yeah," Jackson said, "but actually, I'm about to hack the private level. Get the real dirt on her."

"Haven't we had enough hacking for one day?" Chaki asked. "Besides, I thought you were a modder, not a hacker."

"I am. There's overlap. I infiltrate via mods, rather than software. But you can't have mods without software, or vice versa."

"...if you say so." Chaki peered at the girl. Her eyes were a bright blue, but dark bags sagged under them. Her skin was pale, washed white by a lack of sun, almost like Jackson. "She doesn't look like much."