Socket 1 - The Discovery of Socket Greeny (28 page)

The first time Spindle came to me as the
shadow, he followed my father’s orders. It was a one-time shot. The
Paladins would figure that out, saw my father had set up Spindle to
activate my Paladin potential.

The second time he came as the shadow to save
us in the Rime, that wasn’t so easy. My father knew encrypted
orders weren’t going to survive after the first time. And he knew
they wouldn’t destroy Spindle. So he took a chance. He instilled
the ability for Spindle to choose. Spindle could’ve turned into a
self-serving duplicate. Maybe he took the chance because Pivot was
watching, or maybe my father installed some safety precautions. No
idea. Either way, when it came time, Spindle
chose
to
override his Paladin-installed programming and save me.

I didn’t tell Spindle that. Maybe he already
knew. Maybe nobody knew. I saw it all when I absorbed his
intelligence long ago, but it didn’t make sense until now. I held
out my hand and he took it. His was warm and soft. I took it with
both hands and shook gently. Really, all I wanted to say was,
“Thank you, Spindle.”

His face was rosy red, swirling with darker,
bubbly shades. “You are quite welcome, Master Socket.”

* * * * *

A raccoon stepped into a spider’s web. It sat
on its haunches and rubbed its face, staring at us with bandit
eyes.

“No one comes out here anymore?” I asked.

“It has been quite some time since someone
walked this path.”

“Pivot’s gone,” I said. “He’s not coming
back.”

“I am afraid not, Master Socket.”

A rogue breeze rushed through the limbs. A
band of leaves swirled off the ground and danced overhead. The wind
held them high, circling tighter, falling, then rising again. A
wave passed through my body, starting at my head and ending in the
pit of my stomach, expanding until I felt like I was glowing. I put
my hand over my gut and smiled.

“Funny,” I said. “I don’t know who Pivot is,
but I feel like I’ve known him all my life.” Spindle’s face was
radiant like never before. “You know? Even thinking about him… it
fills me.”

“He has that effect, I am told.”

The leaves pulled together in a tighter,
shifting bunch as the wind twisted. Then, all at once, it
evaporated and the leaves fluttered down like crinkly snowflakes. I
pulled one from my hair. The breeze whipped through the banyan
tree, disturbing none of the trees around it. The limbs shook. For
a moment, I could see him standing on a branch. Bronze skin.
Bleached hair over his eyes.

And then the breeze fell silent. The
apparition gone.

“I will miss them,” Spindle said.

“Them?”

“Master Pivot, of course.” His face darkened.
“And the late Master Broak. I will miss them both.”

“Your programming skipped a beat, Spindle.
You’ll miss Broak?”

“Why, yes. He was a promising young man. Very
bright. Full of life. The world is a sadder place without him.”

“You do know he tried to kill me, right?
Twice.”

“Yes.”

“And you think the world will be sad? Check
your logic, Spindle. I’m not sure the world misses him.”

“He was a beautiful person. I knew him from
the time he was born. I cared for him.” The sun reflected on his
face, dimmed when a cloud passed over. “He warned us there was
something wrong with him, and we did not listen.”

“What’re you talking about? Broak didn’t warn
anyone, he fooled us all. He was supposed to start the next
generation of Paladins that protected humanity and he turned on us.
Where was the warning?”

“He told us all, Master Socket.” Spindle
tilted his head.
Is it not obvious?
“He told us he was
broken.”

Broken. He was broke. He was
Broak
.

He changed his own name.

Was he calling out, telling the world he was
hurt? That Pike controlled him like a puppet? Someone come save me.
I’m broken. Or was the name just a joke, a chance to laugh right in
our faces? He didn’t want to be human because humans were
imperfect.
They
were broken. And since he was human, he was
broke. He wanted something better. Something perfect. Until then,
he was Broak.

“What was his real name?” I asked.

“Master Vestal was his birth name.”

“Well, then, let’s pause for the memory of
Master Vestal.”

Spindle thought for a moment, then
brightened. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Should we pause at the tagghet field?”

“He would like that, Master Socket, but I
believe right here and now is appropriate.”

We turned to the sunrise. I closed my eyes,
felt the warmth on my face. Birds called. Insects buzzed. Dew
dripped from the leaves, splattered on the ones below.

Master Vestal. A much better name.

* * * * *

A change in the air pressure. “Are you
expecting someone?” I asked.

“Perhaps.”

A leaper stopped at the wall. A servy glided
out, the eyelight pointed at us. Two people followed. Streeter
stopped immediately. His mouth hung open. It was his first time in
the Preserve. He didn’t notice us down the sloped path under the
palms. Chute stepped out of the leaper and didn’t see the wondrous
jungle. She headed directly for us. I sprinted toward her. We
stopped a few feet apart. My chest melted like chocolate, dripping
inside. Her freckled complexion was so smooth.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Her shins, knees to ankles, were
wrapped in violet leg warmers. “Circulation enhancers are
helping.”

“Are they going to be all right?”

“They’re fine.”

“So they’re… they’re all right?”

She nodded. Smiled.
Yeah. They’re all
right.

When I saw her last, her legs had disappeared
in the rip, but now she was in front of me.
She’s all
right.

The awkward space between us evaporated. We
fell forward like we’d been pushing on a wall and now it was
suddenly gone. She threw her arms around my neck. I squeezed back,
breathing her essence. Satisfying the ache.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she whispered.

Energy beamed from my core, enveloped us.
Nothing separated us, not even our flesh. Our emotions flowed from
one body to the next. I could’ve held her like that for days.

“Holy shit.” Streeter’s mouth gaped open.
“Take it easy until you get a room, why don’t you.”

Streeter was plump as ever. Clearly he’d
found the all-you-can-eat kitchen was no joke. He tried to look
disgusted by the hug, but he couldn’t stop smiling. He put out his
hand but I put him in a headlock. He punched me back, shoved me off
the path into the small trees. I fell in the leaves, drenched in
dew. He held out his hand and pulled me out.

“Man, I’m glad to see you, Socket.” We shook
hands a long time, even came close to hugging.

“I want you guys to meet one of my best
friends,” I said. “This is Spindle.”

“Really?” Streeter feigned surprise. “Because
we met him a month ago.”

“You did?”

“He’s been taking care of us. He took us to
breakfast, walked us to the infirmary and rode the leapers with us.
Can you believe this place?”

Streeter rambled on about servys, holographic
imagers and bottomless kitchens. Spindle’s face lit up. Streeter,
in mid-sentence, held up his hand for a high-five but Spindle
buried his fist in it. Streeter shook it.

“You taught them the
stick-it
handshake?” I said to Spindle. He cocked his head, slightly, his
face lit up. “Really? You taught them… I can’t believe you taught
them—”

“It’s cute,” Chute said.

“It’s not
cute
,” Streeter added. “It’s
just the way he shakes hands. Right, Spindle?”

“Do you know where he got that handshake?” I
asked.

“It is my way.” Spindle’s eyelight blinked.
Don’t ruin the moment, Master Socket.

I looked back and forth between their faces.
Streeter waited for my revelation.
Don’t ruin it.
“You’re
right. That’s the way they do it,” I said.

“This is a new world, Socket,” Streeter said.
“They do things differently around here.”

“You have no idea.”

The trees shook and showered us with dew. The
leaves fell like autumn arrived. We jumped back to get out of the
rain. Hiding in the dark canopies, tiny golden lights blinked at us
by the hundreds.

“What is this place?” Chute asked.

“The Preserve is a man-made, enclosed
environment supporting the growth of over ten thousand botanical
species…”

Spindle spouted the introductory speech.
Chute and Streeter scanned the vast jungle. They wouldn’t be here
long. They would go back home soon. They were normal people; they
needed to live normal lives. I wasn’t going home. I would stay. I
would train. I would become a Paladin. Between us, things would
change. Streeter was right: this was the last day for the
Watchdogs. It was officially over. But for today, we were still
Watchdogs.

The leaves rustled again. A red bat darted
out. I held up my hand and Rudder hit it like a rubber toy, curling
his long tail through my fingers and nuzzling against me. His
essence burst down my arm.

Chute squealed.

“This is Rudder.” I held my hand out like a
small platform. He stood. Bowed.

After introductions and Rudder doing a little
show, Chute held her hand flat. He walked onto it and rolled over,
twining his tail between her fingers. “He’s so soft.” She pushed
him against her neck and he purred louder.

“Does he bite?” Streeter asked.

“Not that I know of,” I said.

Streeter stepped back. Chute dangled him by
the tail. “You hold him.”

“Don’t force him on me, Chute! What’s your
problem?”

“He’s just an innocent creature, Streeter.
Like a kitty.”

He shook his hands and backed up another
step. “Yeah, well, I don’t know where that kitty’s been. I mean,
that thing could have rabies or Ebola. You don’t know, Chute.”

Rudder’s eyes opened wide.
[Ebola?]

[Never mind him,]
I thought back.

“There are a lot more.” I pointed to the
golden lights. “One of every color.”

“Can we see them?” Chute asked.

“Oh, you’re going to see them. I’m going to
show you everything.”

The sun rose above low lying clouds. We
shaded our eyes against the glare. A monkey howled. A bobcat cried.
Something slithered nearby. We paused in the new morning without a
word. The pause just happened, and they didn’t even know it. We
just stood there. Listening. Seeing.
Being
.

“What’s going to happen to you, Socket?”
Chute whispered.

“I’m staying here.”

“What about us?”

“You’re going home.”

She hooked her finger around mine. “You’re
not coming?”

“There’re some things to sort out first, but
I’ll be home to see you. I’d like to see them stop me. Right now,
I’m sure there’s a test or two they want to run. Right,
Spindle?”

Spindle was still pausing. Or maybe he didn’t
want to get involved. He stared ahead.

Rudder crawled down her arm and wrapped his
tail around our hands, squeezing them tighter. Hanging upside down.
“Rudder will keep you company,” she said. “While I’m gone.”

“Yeah. He’ll watch out for me.”

Chute smiled and shook my hand. Rudder
scrambled up my arm and lay on my shoulder, nuzzling against my
neck with a deep groan. He sensed Chute’s sadness and batted his
eyes at her, tried to make her laugh. She just smiled. It was all
she could do. I wasn’t coming home, at least not yet.

She looked at the sunrise. The light flashed
in her eyes. “I went to the Grand Canyon when I was little, but
this place… this is beautiful.”

“It is quite grand,” I said.

“Quite grand?” Streeter scowled. “Are you
freaking kidding me? When the hell do you say quite grand?”

“I just… I don’t know. It just seemed like
the thing to say.”

“Quite grand.” He waved a stick through the
spider web and peeled it to the side, muttering, “He’s lost his
freaking mind.”

“Shall we?” Spindle said, extending his arm.
“There is a lot to see and little time.”

Around the banyan tree and into the jungle we
went. I didn’t know what the next day would bring. Or the day after
that. I just knew it was a great day. A perfect day.

Just as it is.

Tony Bertauski lives in Charleston, SC with
his charming wife, Heather, and two great kids, Ben and Maddi. He’s
a teacher at Trident Technical College and a columnist for the Post
and Courier. He’s published two textbooks that can be found on
Amazon. He was also a 2008 winner of the SC Fiction Contest for his
short story entitled, 4-Letter Words. You can always find out more
at bertauski.com.

This project started several years ago as a
story for my son, but it evolved into characters I just couldn’t
let die. There are so many people that have kept Socket Greeny on
life support with professional help and encouragement.

My writing needed desperate help in the
beginning and without the editorial efforts from Ellen Streiber,
Meg Bertini, and Jeanine Le Ny, I’d still be toiling with
paper-thin characters. I owe a great debt of gratitude to the folks
at The Editorial Department for their professional assistance and
camaraderie. Ross Browne, Jesse Steele, and Teresa Kennedy made me
a better writer. And thanks to Jane Ryder for all those orange
slices. It was fun.

On the home front, there have been countless
friends and family that read numerous drafts that crept ever so
slowly to a finished product. You have all been very kind to read
my stuff. I know it wasn’t always fun. Dylan Walsh was my only fan
for quite some time and I often wrote just for him.