Episode 06: “Three of the Clock”

 

[image error]“One of the clock,” said Annika. “Two of the clock. Three of the clock.” With each stanza of her little poem, she swung the gold pocket watch on its chain, twirling it around her finger.  Peyton smiled down at her.

“‘Of the clock?’” he asked. “Why do you say it like that?”

“That’s what o’clock means, Daddy,” said Annika. “Clock towers used to ring the hour. Sometimes they didn’t even have hands. People didn’t always care about minutes. Things were slower then.”

“I guess they were,” Peyton said, nodding.

“‘Clock’ comes from Latin. The original word meant ‘bell.’”

“Where did you learn that?” Peyton asked.

“School,” she said.

They found the right alley. Peyton led the way to the trash receptacles at its midpoint.  Annika made a face and stayed several steps behind him, covering her mouth and nose.  He knelt by the metal bin, reached up under, and removed the rag-covered bundle he had stashed there previously.

“Do you want this now?”  Annika asked.  She had tucked her watch back into the pocket of her sweater and produced the slim length of saw. He had sent her into the little tool shop three blocks over, hoping for a diamond-impregnated blade. This carbide was the best they could do. He would manage.

“Let’s wait until we get a little farther down,” Peyton told her.  “Where it’s darkest.”

The streets beyond the alley buzzed with ground traffic and pedestrians. Everyone in Hongkongtown was in a hurry. That was good. People who hurried didn’t see things.

“Smell better?” he asked her.

Annika nodded.  She watched, eyes solemn, as he unwrapped the ancient shotgun they had taken from the watch shop.  Peyton broke the double-barreled weapon, removed its shells, and closed it again.  Then he sawed through the wooden stock.  The carbide moved quickly.

“Is it broken?” Annika asked.

“No,” said Peyton. “I’m making it shorter. So I can hide it.” He did not tell her why he had changed his mind about the gun. His metabolism, processing the steady of stream of hormones and other chemicals fed his body by his implanted organs, had mostly healed his gunshot wounds. But the encounter with the police had shaken him. He needed an edge. He needed a weapon.

He had not needed weapons in prison. Big as he had become, he could kill with his his hands more easily than most men could kill with a homemade knife. But this was different. He was back in the world now. He had Annnika to think of.

“I’ll need friction tape,” he said. “For the grip. And it’s going to take a while to trim these barrels. I don’t know where to get more shells. The two we have look new. I hope they don’t blow up the gun.”

Annika looked worried.  “Should I stay?” she asked.

“No,” he said.  “Do like we talked about. Between these buildings and on the other side is the entrance to the shopping plaza.”  He handed her a stack of plastic chits.  “We have more cash if you need it.”

“We got a lot for all the watches and phones,” Annika said, smiling.

“Yes,” said Peyton.  The chits had come from a robot pawnshop.  “Do just like we said. I’ll be right here.”

“Okay, Daddy,” she said.

 

* * *

 

Annika walked through the gleaming aisles of the shopping plaza. She was carefully counting in her head — not the poem she sang, which was easy to remember — but the running tally of the merchandise she was buying. She did not want to have to put anything back. That would be rude.

She had selected what seemed a reasonable amount of clothing, as well as a pair of bags to put it in. One was pink and small enough for her to carry. The other was an enormous black duffel, which she could barely manage empty. Daddy would be able to lift that easily.

Clothes for him had been harder. She had checked the size of his boots while he slept, and had managed to find a new pair large enough. His clothing size was another matter. She had nearly given up on finding pants or shirts that could fit him until she stumbled across Exercity.

Exercity was an indoor gym, open to the plaza concourse. Gravity equipment at its entrance was in active use by extraordinarily developed men and women. The women had muscles larger than most of the Hongkongtown men she had seen. They wore very little, to show them off. The men, however, wore form-fitting pants and shirts with special logos on them. None of them were as big as Daddy, but a few were close. She watched for a few minutes until she realized: The clothing stretched. It must be of special fabric meant for exercising.

“Can I help you, princess?” asked a man. His voice was very deep, but cheerful. He smiled through thick, white teeth. His skin was the color of pavement. He looked sweaty. An Exercity badge was pinned to his sleeveless shirt, which was stretched over enormous chest muscles.

“I want to get some of those clothes for my Daddy,” she told him. “For his, uh, for his birthday. He’s very large like you. Do you know where I could get some?”

“We sell them right here in our gift shop, in fact,” he said, smiling more broadly.  “Follow me.”

After that, things had been easy. She worked her way through the plaza, mindful of the time, singing her song.  “One of the clock, two of the clock, three of the clock,” she whispered. Her watch was safe in her pocket. She checked it now and then.

The robot cart that followed her was a delight. It was like a happy dog, content to stay two paces behind her, waiting patiently while she filled it with nice clothes. The plaza had a crafts and repairs nook that even sold a few tools. She paused there and fixed the salesman with her most adult expression.

“Do you have friction tape?”

The man’s eyebrows went up.  “Why, yes, young lady, we do,” he said. “That will be four, please.” He handed her the roll of tape, which was rough like sandpaper. Annika handed him four chits.

“Do you have… Do you have shells?” she asked.

Something changed in the man’s expression.  “That would be at the other end of the concourse,” he said.  “But there are no sales to minors. Do you have identification? They’ll want to see some.”

She had made a mistake. “No,” she said.  “I mean, never mind. Thank you.”  She hurried away.  She could see him reaching for a phone on the counter of his little shop window.

She walked quickly, forcing the robot to hurry after her. She still had money left, but Daddy hadn’t said she needed to spend it all. They had plenty of clothes. At least she had gotten him his tape. She took out her watch and pressed the button to release the cover. It was less than ten to three.

“Three of the clock,” she told herself.  She would need to circle back and take a side corridor in order to leave by the entrance nearest Daddy’s hiding spot.  She had taken no more than two steps when a firm hand clamped down on her shoulder.

“Excuse me,” said a woman’s voice.  “I’m going to need to read your chip, miss.”

Annika turned and found herself staring into the eyes of a woman in a beige uniform.  She had a gun on her hip and a pair of radio glasses on her face. Annika watched her own face in the reflection of the lenses.

“Privateer law,” said Annika, reflexively. Daddy had taught her to say it. “You can’t detain me unless I’ve committed a crime. I’m a free citizen.”

“The shopping plaza is private property,” insisted the security woman. She was younger than she had seemed at first.  Close to her, Annika could see how smooth her skin was. She smelled of soap and moisturizer, but not perfume. Annika supposed that if she were a security guard, she would not wear perfume either.

“I’m shopping,” said Annika, pointing to the cart.

“There’s a policy posted at the entrance,” said the guard. “No unsupervised minors. I’m going to need to take you to the office, miss, until we can get hold of your mother or father.”

“No,” said Annika. “Don’t do that.”

The guard’s grip tightened on her shoulder.  Annika looked down at the woman’s hand. The guard’s knuckles were white.  It made Annika angry. There was no reason to be mean like that.

“You’re coming with me,” said the guard.

Annika looked back up at the guard until the two locked eyes.  With her free hand she held out her pocket watch.  “Do you see what time it is?” she said.

“So?” the guard asked.

“If I don’t leave here by three of… by three o’clock, my Daddy is going to come in here looking for me.”

“That’s what I want,” said the guard.

“No,” said Annika. “It’s not what you want.  Nobody wants that. You’re mean.  You don’t have a kind heart. But my Daddy can give you one. You won’t like it.”

The guard stared into Annika’s face. Her grip began to ease. She said, “Look, miss, if you’ve run away from home—”

“You don’t understand,” said Annika emphatically.  She looked at the face of the watch, then back to the guard.  “In seven minutes my Daddy is going to come here. He’s the largest man you have ever seen. He’s bigger than the people at Exercity. He’s stronger than all of them.  And if you make him angry he’ll pull all your arms and legs off.”

The guard started to laugh. As she stared at Annika, the laugh died in her throat. “I don’t—” she started.

“Your arms,” said Annika. “Your legs. Your head.” She reached into the cart, took out the roll of friction tape, and ripped off a piece.  “As easily as that.  And then when all your blood is on the floor and the ceiling and your head is flat and your teeth are in a pile and your arms are in the disposer, we’ll take what’s in your pockets and you’ll never be mean to anybody else again. Just like Doctor Gorsky.”

With that, Annika wrenched her shoulder free, slapped the robot cart’s override, and nearly ran for the exit with the cart close behind. The guard stared after her, watching her go, making no attempt to interfere.

 

* * *

 

Peyton had just finished with the gun when Annika reappeared.  He helped her take the bags from the cart. She was unusually quiet, even for her.  Finally, he pushed the return button on the robot. It trundled off in the direction of the plaza.

“Did you get everything, Annika?” Peyton asked.

“I couldn’t get your shells,” she said.  “But I got the tape.”

Peyton looked surprised.  “You don’t need to worry about those things,” he told her.

She looked up at him.  He met her gaze and could not interpret her expression. Love? Pride?

“I don’t,” she said.

“Don’t what?” he asked.

“I don’t worry about anything, Daddy.”