Shards and Ashes

preparing for months. That’s why I came back.

I came because he asked me to help.

I stayed because he asked me to help her.

Her glossy black hair bobs as she reads, again and again.

Is she crying?

It’s him.

It’s her brother.

It’s either her brother, or a lover I know nothing about.

I smile at the idea of Jai, my Jai, having a lover. Jai, who would not risk the rain without an umbrella. Jai, who keeps a spare train ticket in her pocket at all times, in case she has to flee.

Then I stop.

I want to tell her about tigers.

I want to throw her into a river, and see which one of us can swim the farthest.

I want to walk her out into the ocean, one step at a time. I don’t care if we ever come back.

What does it matter to me?

What difference would it make now?

I flip on my computer.

It grunts into blank white light. Then, an animation pops up onscreen.

“Hello, Valued Employee of Cubicle Two Zero One One. We at Shenzen salute your contribution.”

“Thank you.” I look the animation in the eye. If I don’t, my terminal won’t finish loading.

I prefer the other kind of security, where they shoot the criminals in the face and don’t make the rest of us endure this. That’s how we do things in the North, where I’m from. Hinter. Here in the Southlands, where the Feds are crawling up your ass all day, that’s not an option.

The face nods, accepting my retinal scan. I guess I’m not as bloodshot as I thought.

“Begin your day, Two Zero One One. We hope you find personal fulfillment as you are of use to the world around you.”

“Super.” I hit a key, and the face disappears, my database scrolling across the screen. Name after name, number after number, risk after risk.

It’s not rocket science.

You do the math, you hit the key.

The plus sign to add a drop.

The minus to delete one.

You do the math.

You hit the key.

Sometimes it’s just a tear that drops.

Sometimes it’s a person.

That’s how it works.

You hit the keys.

But I don’t.

I never have.

I never will.

Instead, I reach around back and flip on my off-market modem.

My screen becomes another screen, and I see a face again. This face isn’t an animation, though. In fact, it doesn’t move at all.

“Jai,” I whisper, leaning closer to the microphone at the base of my monitor.

“Are you there?”

She looks down at the camera, which I know is only a blinking green light at the corner of her monitor. I know this, but it feels like she is looking at me.

When she smiles, which isn’t often, it feels like she’s smiling at me.

“Z.”

“In the flesh.”

“You’re late.”

“I’m always late.”

“You’re going to get fired.”

“So?”

“So.”

She falters, biting her lip. She looks away, but she has nothing else to look at. Not even a mug, with a cat painted on it. Not even a pen. There is nothing but me, a small blinking light above a keyboard and below a stretch of reflective plasticine.

She looks back at me.

“So. That would not be a positive contribution to the world around you.” She’s mocking the Corporation’s log-in screen, and I grin. That’s Jai, that spark deep inside. It isn’t easy to get to, and you have to work hard to find it, but I try.

I will never stop trying.

I crave it, more than anything else in my day.

“So?” I say it back to her, smiling. I straighten in my seat as the Super walks by, then slump back toward her. “What’s it to you whether or not I contribute? Whether or not I get fired?”

“It would be . . .” She smiles at her fingers, playing against the keyboard. They type and retype the same letters, over and over again. “It would be sad if you weren’t here.”

“It would?” I grin again. Say it, Jai. Her lips are pursed with a smile that they struggle to keep to themselves, like a kiss, like a secret.

“I would.”

“Meet me in the break room at the hour.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“We can’t be alone there.” She says the words, not me. I wonder what is happening to her today. Maybe it is her brother. Maybe it’s Rama.

Better and better, I think.

“Okay. Meet me outside, after work.”

She pauses, and I sit back and wait, watching the screen.

After a century, after one million years, she nods, so slightly you would have missed it, if you were not me.

Then she hits a key in front of her, and all I can see is the database once again, scrolling down my screen.

6. J A I

“What are you doing?”

I say the words to a stranger passing by me, who looks startled, but they’re meant for someone else.

For him.

The man pulling me by the arm the moment I step out onto the sidewalk, pulling me into people and traffic and passersby, dragging me around the corner until we are pressed against the side of a building hung with shadow. It is after six, rush hour, and the crush of the commute is everywhere. Not for us. We are the only ones standing still.

I don’t dare look at him.

I haven’t seen him all day.

I drank my lukewarm tea alone at break, ate my Spam roll alone during lunch. I kept my book with me, a