III. Discoveries

A much older and infinitely more spent David Baxter slid through his black and white apartment chores wondering how his life would have turned out without this gift, and without this curse. That he would have gotten laid many more times was a fact, but not an issue. That he might have had some meaningful and long lasting relationships with humans other than those who served him didn’t really hold weight. It was the fact that he had never been able to relax and enjoy anything. At this point, to see anything for its visual attributes alone would have made him an object’s primary devotee. If he could have remembered what it was like in the first place, the nostalgia alone might have broken him.

Since that first day and Laurel McAndless, he had been constantly afraid to share space with all matter, living or not. It was true though that he had never really needed other people in a capacity that didn’t involve pure observation. He used to ridicule them all equally and respect no one, but now there was always more to consider. Somehow knowing every regrettable sin, every dishonest interaction and every selfish act that a human being had instigated or taken part in just made him want to flee. Fleeing from others with blood pumping in their veins right along with his defined his life; it was now what he excelled at. Damn the world if it couldn’t understand, and damn David Baxter if he couldn’t adapt.

When he had gotten home after almost leaving his intestines on his childhood street, he had locked himself in a dark closet for more than four straight hours. A confused child with unanswered questions had entered the unlit storage area, but a focused and cold adult had come out later that night. He was lucky that his parents were both working eighty hours a week. He had a little time to adjust.

The knowledge had started to bombard him while he sobbed alone in that little space under the hanging coats and pants. The dust and the ancient polyester smell had swirled into a whole family history that would have made the book of Matthew and all its begotten children look tidy.

The items in that closet had become as known to him as if they were siblings. Everything about what they were made of and everything and everyone whom they had ever come into contact with had left a mark. Those marks took up residence in his brain and congealed there to form an undeniable truth. He couldn’t spend much time with anyone after that day. His experiences had to be limited or his mind would slowly leak the vital fluids and adhesives it needed to stay together. He couldn’t handle considering all those people’s facts and figures, and he didn’t want to know whether they were in the red or black. David had to keep some hope for his species locked away, where even he couldn’t logically and rightfully deem it rubbish.

Just the facts about his mother and father had almost killed him. Every indiscretion, every grudge, every argument and disgusting thing they’d done to each other while covered with the guise of love had crippled his mind for the time he had spent in that closet. He found out then that he feared for his mothers mind and his empathy had folded itself into a hatred which burned brightly using his father’s continued breath as fuel. All the things children are usually spared concerning their parent’s courtship and long marriage were revealed to David, and he now had a very informed opinion about the father he had once cared for, but never pitied. For some reason, he couldn’t see anything that involved his birth or time with others, but it was hardly an appropriate location for questions such as those.

He loved his mother enough to know what could and couldn’t be forgiven. They had feigned happiness, but that didn’t mean that the things his father had done could dissolve when swirled around in that false contentment. Life wasn’t an hour long drama and you sure as Hell couldn’t bury and deny poisonous knowledge like that. If he had to know things like this, he would be the sentinel charged with remembering. He was a teenaged key master with the whole world on his mind.

Around twenty years later in his monochrome apartment, David found himself in front of his computer afraid to wake it up. It occupied most of the desk and wall he looked at, and while impressive and functional to say the least, it was still as intimidating as Skynet must have been to a young John Connor. Huge monitors constructed from the best and rarest materials that produced a picture literally more beautiful than reality could ever be looked down on him like accusatory bricks. David felt like a battered woman whose ham fisted husband was snoring one off on the couch, covered in corn chips and the guilty sweat of the uneducated. If he was quiet enough, and moved slowly, maybe he could avoid the beating for a few more minutes.

No such luck though. He grabbed the mouse and gave it a frustrated shake. The Sun must rise in the East and coffers always needed filling. His abuser woke up with a chime and David cringed for the beating.

His daily income came largely from privileged information pertaining to almost every public company that was registered for trading. When you could read a story about a fledgling empire, or see a picture of a CEO or Vice President and know just about everything they did or had done, one could anticipate a lot of ups and downs in stock price. David had also invested in a myriad of small businesses around the city and used those profits as startup capital for his early rounds of investment.

To do it any grander may have ushered in certain attention that David hoped would remain squarely on the shoulders of the Gates and Zuckerbergs of the world. The knowledge he possessed lent itself to a great many opportunities for invention and innovation, but he preferred to keep those secrets to himself and avoid any focus.

David’s net worth actually fluctuated between 2.5 and 3 billion dollars within a normal quarter. Once you reached a certain amount, it was actually hard to keep the total any lower than that. When anyone had enough money, it was always working for them and David knew who to hire to keep it employed. If it did ever blossom to anything resembling Scrooge McDuck’s swimming pool of golden coins, it would certainly cause grubby little journalists and various philanthropy zealots to discover that all the companies, real estate and overseas bank accounts were related and pointing to one man. There was a puppet master pulling from, and depositing wealth into all those strings.

The secret was to never, ever let anyone know you were wealthy, so David had to spread it thin over a very large piece of toast. This included the IRS, every single charity, and of course any friends or family. Fortunately David had no need to concern himself with the two F’s, and everyone else could be paid off, including whatever portion of any government that happened to be curious.

His fortune mainly kept equilibrium, helping to foster an environment in which he shared as little as possible about, and with, a minimum number of fellow human beings. Most of those people who made, serviced and positioned his personal belongings, furniture and assets had been with him almost from the beginning. He paid a healthy sum for his particular form of privacy and to him it was worth every penny. David’s own charitable estimates regarded that around sixty five percent of his holdings were drained by actions which separated him from the rest of his species. This was a pretty reliable piece of information considering the man who estimated it knew almost everything.

David leaned back in his chair and took a short break from the trading, maintenance and other financial upkeep. He stared at his oppressive monitors and thought of any number of science fiction movies he had seen as a child in which the viewing area was large enough to induce seizures or vomiting. For someone who limited the information he took in with a diligence that could be defined as obsessive, he had some massive windows inundating him with even more.

He had paid an internet startup to consolidate all the data he needed from news sites, financial systems and the rest of the world into a slow, edited trickle. The company hadn’t ever had the ability to provide anything the casual or serious internet user would ever want or pay for after its inception and had at its onset included only two baby college graduates. Presently though, it enjoyed a multi-million dollar profit margin and a full staff, simply because they sifted through every byte of information David might need and delivered it to him within a concise and secure private website. Really it was very elementary stuff when it came to web design or information management, but useful enough to David that he didn’t feel any pang that accompanied being taken advantage of. For this, he spread his wealth like Ebenezer on Christmas morning to those involved. Thanks for everything Mr. Baxter. The new leg works oh so very well. We’re ever so grateful…

Only what he needed to see was presented, and never anything about a subject he hadn’t already approved. David paid well to avoid all questions and contact from those he employed, but sometimes he wondered how they went about their day while working for what they must have perceived as a madman with three foot long fingernails and Mason jars full of urine providing the mood lighting to his bank vault style hotel room. He had guessed that money really could stifle curiosity and had depended on that simple theory for so long now, he didn’t know how else to live.

At almost the exact moment he had completed his exploration into the little corner of the digitally connected world that would be safe for him to handle, his phone rang. David’s cell normally rang all day but most of the calls went unanswered, resigned to the silent vibrating purgatory of disinterest. His line was protected from intruders on all fronts of course, but even still, some employees sought approval, encouragement and details more often than could be discouraged.

He read the ID and immediately realized this was not one of those calls. It was directly related to his comfort level and was impossible to de-assign priority considering his ecosystem. He still answered the phone filled with an urge to be direct and ultimately very short with the person on the other end.

“Mr. Andrews, how are we coming on my request?”

For form or function, David wasn’t one to endure or participate in small talk.

“It’s going almost as planned Mr. Baxter, sir. I’ve questioned and given the correct information to everyone involved and there should be a legal resolution soon.”

“And how soon will that be Jeffrey?”

David couldn’t abide beating around the bush. While he often knew the answers to his own questions, he gauged a person’s commitment and loyalty based on the responses they provided. There was a reason his “jack of all trades” was calling him before this job was completed, and David couldn’t imagine a problem that Jeffrey Andrews wouldn’t be able to handle by himself. He was very capable. David knew everything he had done for multiple powerful parties and governments and he was both discrete and deliberate. Jeffrey was the closest thing he had to a confidant, but David still wasn’t able to allow a lack of focus. Every government acronym that mattered had once been dramatically stamped behind the name Jeffrey Andrews, whether anyone in the real world had ever known it or not, so David could push this man hard without worrying about him slipping from the cliff’s edge.

Jeffry continued in his most professional and no nonsense tone.

“The French government is moving slowly now that they’ve received the evidence we provided. The woman is a member of a family with large political influence and an impeccable reputation. There will be some wheels that need greasing to achieve results as quickly as you’d hoped for.”

David spun in his chair, transferring his impatience into movement.

“Get it done Jeffrey. I have given you all the pertinent details concerning the crimes committed, the location of the bodies, and the lies told to cover it up through the years. Mrs. Vartabedion should now be calling home to nowhere that is not surrounded by dank cement walls. As always, if you need more facts, just ask and provide references. If you need more money to appease these officials, all I need to know is how much and why. I’ll make the decisions from there.”

“I understand Mr. Baxter. We may need to throw some incentive the way of a few higher members of the Ministry of the Interior. They find it hard to stay motivated about a crime which occurred so long ago, and that involves a woman who may not live longer than five or ten additional years.”

“Whatever you need Jeffrey. I want her out of this building and in the custody of some form of law enforcement by the end of the week, do you understand? I would not be opposed to framing the old wretch if need be. God knows she deserves it.”

One of the many positive aspects of David’s ability was the black and white resolution of guilt and innocence. In some ways he was able to play the superhero, even if it did come about strictly because of his own borders being breached.

“As you wish Mr. Baxter. I’ll have it handled by the end of the week. She should be apprehended with as little fanfare at your location as possible.”

“Thank you Jeffrey. As always, you continue to impress. Is there anything else, or can we drop the mutual pats on the back and get on with our respective lives?”

David couldn’t afford to be anything but cold and methodical with Jeffrey. If the man sensed a weakness or lack of focus at all, he might be tempted to negotiate a better deal with someone else. David knew that this particular tool was compensated with more than enough, but there were also others who wouldn’t hesitate in stretching “enough” to its limits. He couldn’t lose Jeffrey or even consider a replacement, and taking into account the risks he took for David, he had to make sure he remained simultaneously confident and pliable.

“There is one more thing David. I’m sorry it didn’t come to our attention earlier.

A woman has called your west coast answering service numerous times in the past few weeks. Normally we would chalk that up to an annoying occurrence that could be easily solved by ignoring the communication and not bothering you with it. Unfortunately, this girl seems to know more about you than a casual inquirer should.

At first she slipped through the cracks because; well, because she is the first one who seemed to know something about you, and honestly, we weren’t expecting it. Now we are concerned. We have proceeded with all the usual tracers and inquiries, but we haven’t been able to find anything identifying.”

As soon as Jeffrey had mentioned a person who knew anything about him, David had started sweating with the intensity reserved for cardio or sexual acts. He was usually fascinated by how his body reacted altogether separately from his mind when it came to alarming pieces of news or perceived danger, but this time his blood was cold and thick and he wanted nothing at all to do with the analysis.

He had gone through so much to stay off any grid and hearing that he may have been spotted deep between the millions of lines of code could have been the most unnerving piece of information to cross his desk since childhood.

“What did she say that was so concerning?”

David said this while trying to keep calm and not shout at the man who was paid to shield him from things of this nature. Unfortunately, he heard a crack in his voice that he knew had made it out into public domain to be catalogued by his own personal spy.

Jeffrey’s tone suggested he knew the importance of the words he was saying and just how abruptly they would land directly on his employers head.

“Every time she has called, she has said the exact same thing, David. And she says it with an obviously disguised voice. “Tell your employer that I know about him. I know nothing more than that he exists. I want to meet. He should be able to find me. If he takes too long, I will find him””

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David pushed the End button on his phone’s beautifully constructed touch screen without so much as an ounce of contentment in his mind. Most days, he could still play jump rope for a few seconds with the silver lining positive people continually claimed existed before he tripped and fell to reality, but this was the first time since his high school years that he had felt utterly unprepared. What in the Hell was he supposed to do with a story problem of this magnitude?

A woman leaves a message from a number that can’t be traced by those who have spent their entire professional lives doing just that. She doesn’t leave you any name or way to reach her. She seems to know more about you than anyone else ever has, being intentionally obtuse and is maybe even a little threatening. Who is the woman and what does she want? Please round your answer to two significant digits.

An issue couldn’t be resolved without at least a little informative data, and for the first time in years, David felt as though he had none.

He got up and started pacing back and forth along the edge of the carpet that bordered his kitchen. He usually did this when the guilt from making a decision he shouldn’t have had the knowledge to conceive of was eating at him. This time there was merely naked and disorientating fear. It was also coupled with at least some egotistic incredulousness.

He ran through all the avenues where someone could have gleaned any facts about his life or even his existence. He sorted again, as he did almost daily, everyone he had met and said more than five words to in the past year. That list was staggeringly short, complete and not at all suspicious. He organized and re-ordered every outdoor escapade he had gone on since he had setup his little Fortress of Solitude and could see no way in which he’d let his attention slip. Jor-El would have been a very proud papa indeed. There were no doors open which led to David Baxter’s personal or inter-dimensional activities, and there was not one way he could have been studied unless the Nithromang were helping one of the puny humans they loathed so much.

That idea was so ridiculous David almost laughed as he leaned against his counter. The Nithromang were treacherous bastards with little conscience yes, but wasting any time trying to pit humans against each other could only be compared to a group of Hollywood producers inserting jealousies and popularity struggles into an ant colony. Reality television, no matter how well scripted, just did not work with insects.

David tried and mostly failed to eat, drink or take a relaxing shower while all this rattled around his overwrought skull. He roamed through his daily chores without the slightest focus. Two hours ago, he couldn’t have wanted this amount of mental obscurity more, but now it was as if the problem solver in his brain was whiskey drunk and had taken his reason to the nearest strip club to buy them a series of under priced and over enthusiastic lap dances. With all of the problems he had concerning his multi-dimensional friends, David didn’t possess the time or patience to let this potentially harmless bit of information bother him.

Maybe he could shake it by handling the aliens that frustrated him endlessly. He sat down once again and tried to answer the questions that had been hastily added to his interior decor. He had copied them onto a sheet of paper and he laid it out in front of him to stare towards him in an accusatory fashion.

The inquiries from the Nithromang always seemed so pointless the first time he read through them. Carved into his ceiling, they were without thought or emotion, but written down in David’s neat penmanship they looked a little like harmless test questions from a pleasantly plump and encouraging eighth grade English teacher.

Which of these planets would be the best mining source for Hafnium? (History and names of planets provided.)

Given their history and morals, will this society be able to handle their own independent government without Nithromang intercession? (History, names of society, and explanation of morals provided.)

If the war with our closest neighboring solar system goes well, which planets would provide the most profit if acquired in the surrender negotiations? (History and name of friendly neighboring solar system that they planned on eradicating relentlessly provided.)

They apparently had such an unbreakable stranglehold on their galaxy that David didn’t understand why they really required answers to these questions. They mined him for every piece of advantageous information they could and it seemed to David that they were just becoming greedy. They owned, controlled and collected on all trade within their perceivable spectrum, and hadn’t the need to find any other new sources of raw materials or necessary minerals. All of the thousands of races within their reality were, according to Aenit, absolutely happy with the way things functioned and any wars fought were short lived and didn’t have a real leg to stand on in the first place.

It sounded as though the Nithromang had somehow mated a Monarchy with a form of Communism and the results were beneficial to both the government and the citizenry. Of course, David had to trust the vague and secretive bastard’s description in order to believe any of this was true. They had inundated him with all of these explanations and complimentary tales when they had initially communicated with him, then they had dodged all of his questions thoroughly when David was finally allowed to respond. They told him in kinder words that they would destroy and mine rape his entire solar system if he did not provide the answers they demanded.

No, we won’t tell you how we found out about your differences. No, we will not tell you the secrets to life, the universe, or the many different planes of existence we move through and inhabit. We’re sorry, but if we told you those things, your primitive and infant mind would melt and boil from the sheer scope of the knowledge. You are beneath us in every way, so provide us with the knowledge we can’t conceive of or we’ll destroy you, you childish and inconsequential pustule.

Considering he could know everything, and so much more than these idiots who thought themselves the rulers of all, David took these kinds of interactions as a bit of an insult. He was only human and just standing up for his species, right? They didn’t have to threaten to destroy everything he or anyone like him had ever known. Maybe he could have been a bit less rash in his reactions, but then again maybe Aenit could suck it. That seemed to be the only rational choice left to David who was firmly on the side of “Team People”.

As he prepared the sheet of paper on which he was writing the details of his answers (the Nithromang would be able to observe and record these whenever they were ready for them from their all seeing eye that pointed at this world.), David was utterly alone. He had separated himself long ago, but he felt lonely for the first time in decades and he couldn’t formulate any reason why. Maybe he just needed some sleep and to reevaluate his current habits. Maybe he had missed some small thing that was engorging the nostalgia he felt for his life before he had known of his talents. Maybe he was curious about the first person who had ever really broken his cocoon of separation and privacy since he was fourteen years old.

David slowly shook his head and smiled at himself. Of course, nothing could have been further from the truth. Nothing except what had always been. Sometimes your habits just weren’t strong enough to handle reality. And to think, just yesterday, he had had it all figured out. Sleep was going to be treasured tonight.

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David awoke the next morning to a sound he had never heard inside his own apartment. The low and intermittent buzzing was coming from somewhere close to the front door, and if he was honest with himself, David would have admitted that it terrified him. His security and privacy were never trifled with, so this must be a real, honest to goodness, double-decker with special sauce kind of emergency; that or a malfunction, and he could tolerate neither.

In his half sleep staggering, (David had never been a morning person of any skill.), he knocked things over in his bedroom, slid into walls and doorways, and had just about forgotten where he had always kept his front door. Shakily, he made it to the general area that the sliding portal of his personal elevator called home and stood staring at a small button that was flashing red under a speaker grill which had never been spoken into. David was not conscious enough for this.

No one would ever buzz the intercom connecting his sanctuary with the outside world. He had made damn sure that no one off the street could get in the foyer of this building, and not one person who lived in this complex was crazy enough to actually do a thing that might lead to contact with him. Even the horrible old child torturing witch had enough sense to stay away from his intercom and only accost him in the lobby for as much time as her voice could carry and slip into his retreating ears. How had this happened? Why had this happened?

David smartly slapped himself on the right cheek in an effort to produce an alert and considerate version of the man that had long ago had conversations with strangers. It seemed to work just enough to help him press the button and drunkenly bellow some words.

“What the Hell do you want? And who is this?!?”

He had no patience normally, and this invasion of his home would require a slightly more murderous version of his already terse self.

“I wanted to speak with you.”

It was a female voice which chimed in and it sounded much too chipper and content to be on the opposite end of a communication line belonging to David. It felt like a sin to keep it attached to the bile and acidic responses that would follow the comparatively welcome greeting it had just experienced.

“You have the wrong address. Please leave and don’t come back.”

The response was almost immediate.

“Your name I don’t know. You own this building, and the old scary woman standing behind me who looks as though she’s stared into the Arc of the Covenant is a murderer of children. She’s checking me out right now, writing in a little blue notebook all the characteristics about me she can. I’m not sure what she plans on doing with the scribbles, but I can tell you everything she’s written in that pad.”

She had almost been whispering, and now David couldn’t have moved if his male virginity was in immediate peril. Most of his mind was still snoring contently, and nothing like this had ever in his life happened before. The advocate of eternal privacy was actually considering letting someone, anyone, into his house or going down in elevation to meet them.

Through the haze of sleep and the shock at what he wasn’t sure he considered real, he realized one more thing. Even though he had heard this person’s voice, he knew absolutely nothing about her. She had broken him. She must have been the voicemail brigand Jeffrey had warned him about. The speaker once again interrupted his thoughts with a cutting crackle.

“If you’re wondering, I know nothing about you either. All I know is that many people have suspicions about you having more knowledge than any human should. They were probably people who’ve worked for you at one time or another. I wandered into some sort of societal car pool lane with a couple of folks who knew of you, and you turned out to be someone I needed to discuss some things with. My own abilities allowed me to find you based on other’s observations. Can you let me up for a minute please? I really think we can help each other.”

David stared at the speaker in his wall as if it held a secret that only complete focused attention could reveal. Unfortunately for him, his less than alert status would never be able to achieve an alignment like that. He’d never had so much trouble making a decision before, and had never felt so terrified to actually choose a course. Conundrums before ten o’clock in the morning were something he usually avoided.

“Can you wait there for just a moment? I need to wake up a little before I have another conversation like that.”

“That’s fine with me. I’ll be waiting on the couch in your lobby if you want to buzz me up or come down. My name is Hannah.”

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David stumbled into his bathroom and threw handful after handful of ice cold water into his face and watched it drain reluctantly from his pale skin in the mirror. Could this really be happening? He must have been still dreaming or not yet fully awake. He hadn’t realized he was this tired. He needed to adjust his sleep schedule accordingly.

He made his way fitfully to the intercom again, still unfamiliar with how it really worked, and pressed the button that had glared at him previously with a red glow that implied evil interactions would follow. The last few minutes had to have been an exhaustion induced hallucination.

“Is…is there anyone there?”

He waited for ten or fifteen seconds with hopeful thoughts about breaks with reality caused by lack of sleep before the response finally rendered him fully and violently awake.

“Yes, I’m still here. My name is still Hannah, and I still think you should let me up.”

David spun around and put his bare back to the cold wall before sliding to the floor, fresh goose bumps dragging on the finished drywall and arriving back at their point of origin ultimately behind the body they were attached to.

Whatever he could endure and survive, this was definitely not a portion of it. Somehow, he thought he’d feel better if he had clothes on and that priority gained ground above all the rest. He needed some kind of barrier between him and this, woman. He had never considered even having a thought like that before. The buried wiring which allowed the intercom conversation didn’t provide enough distance or separation.

He ran to his room and pulled on some pants and a t-shirt before returning to the intercom in a crouching stance, ready for, and sincerely expecting, some overhead mortar fire.

His outstretched finger snaked its way up the wall and pressed the button as if the slightest jerky movement might cause it to come to life. David didn’t really want to live the rest of his days dealing with a bitten off index finger.

“Why should I let you up? I can’t anyway. I was just getting in the shower.”

That lie might give him the time needed to make a few phone calls and have this pest problem zapped into the ether. Once again he found himself questioning his decision. He never did that. Maybe he was spending too much time outside.

“I think we share more than just geographic location at the moment, and I think it’s a pretty important thing to share. Why don’t you at least tell me your name? I could delve the woman staring at me for it, but judging from her attitude, I don’t think I want to.”

She sounded entirely too reasonable. David found himself wanting to trust this disembodied voice more than a lot of things he’d desired lately, but he still had to be careful. What could a first name hurt?

“My name is David. Could you please just leave? I don’t deal well with interactions, and I have to.…”

Wait, David thought. What had she said about “delving”? It sounded like she was implying that an on/off switch existed on something that David had never been able to even turn down. David’s had always been at Spinal Tap levels. Did this woman truly share his problems and knowledge? He hadn’t considered the possibility before she had said that.

“Just relax and let me up David. I’m not going to try and hurt you. I have no ill intentions other than to take a little of your time, and I promise you, you will end this conversation knowing more useful information than you did prior to having it. Maybe we can help each other.”

That final statement made it sound as if she really didn’t know all that David had assumed. Maybe it would be okay. Just a mistake, a couple of missed queues in the conversation, and she would soon be on her way to frighten and disorient other people in the city.

David immediately went from frightened beyond belief to a state of complete confusion. He needed to prepare for a visitor even though he’d never had one. His eyes darted furiously around his house, stopping on anything he deemed as inappropriate for public viewing. This included everything.

What should he do to make the place stranger friendly? Did he need food? Lighting? A caterer? These were the subjects of links that he had never clicked on the social convention site he had encountered. They remained bright blue always, before and after his digital history was thrown into the garbage truck of internet remnants.

He reached back up for the intercom button, the action hardly bothering him anymore considering the amount of shit dropped on his shoulders in the past few minutes.

“Give me fifteen minutes and buzz again. If I have decided to let you up, the elevator across from the couch you have been sitting on will descend and open. If you don’t hear anything in that time, you need to leave, or the next person you talk to will not be so friendly or helpful.”