Karl nodded, which Sam Sam couldn’t see, but he apparently understood it nonetheless.
“Let’s go,” Sam Sam said, pushing the door open.
“This shift change is ridiculous,” the taller guard said to his more muscular counterpart. “They got you coming in on Monday, too?”
“Mmhmm,” the shorter guard said.
“See, that’s bullshit!” the taller guard cried. “I told them ‘no Mondays!’ and what do they do? I’m gonna have to take this up with the super.”
“It’s your funeral,” the other guard replied. “Personally, I’d keep it to myself. There’s no shortage on applicants.”
The taller guard sighed angrily. “There’s no winning, is there? Hey, did you guys get put on Monday, too?”
Karl and Sam Sam were only passing by the two guards as they talked, so they were both taken by surprise when they were addressed. Each looked around, as if there were someone behind them the guard was speaking to, but snapped to when they realized there were alone.
“No, not Monday,” Sam Sam said.
“What!” the taller guard asked, an incredulous expression on his face. “Who’s your super?”
Karl and Sam Sam looked at each other.
“That’s none of your business,” Karl said.
Sam Sam glanced over at him with uncertain eyes.
“None of our business, eh?” the shorter guard said. The two of them stepped away from the wall they were leaning upon. “Keeping secrets? They payin’ you overtime tonight?”
“You know I can’t talk about that,” Karl said. He stood his ground. “Why don’t you guys worry about how your supervisor is running your team, and we’ll worry about ourselves. This issue doesn’t concern us.”
The taller guard stepped up so there was barely an inch between his face and Karl’s. It looked like he was about to snort visible clouds of anger, like some sort of cartoon bull. Then he took a deep breath.
“He’s right,” he said to the side to his companion. “They didn’t set the wages. This is all Greg’s fault—we oughta take it up with him.”
“That’s all you, man,” the shorter guard said.
Karl gave them a nod, then continued walking. Sam Sam picked up on his cue and followed.
Once they were out of earshot, Sam Sam said “Good work. This way.” He led Karl through a door that read “Security Garage: Authorized Personnel Only.”
The smell of motor oil hit Karl’s nostrils as soon as the door was opened. When they stepped through, they found themselves in a wide garage that fit two rows of four SUVs. Sam Sam led the way to one without a break in his stride.
He reached into the vehicle’s wheel well and retrieved a key. With a proud grin, he fit it into the driver’s door and unlocked the car.
“Come on,” the data runner urged.
The psychologist paused for only a split second before walking around the vehicle and opening the passenger-side door.
“Here we go,” Sam Sam said once he climbed into the cab himself.
He inserted the key into the ignition and gave it a turn, though instead of the usual engine startup Karl was used to, the SUV beeped.
Then a computerized voice said, “Identification, please.” The same words appeared on a monitor in the car’s dashboard.
“Ah, yep,” Sam Sam said, as if suddenly remembering a minor ingredient to a cake. With his tongue sticking out in concentration, he rummaged through his pockets. He pulled out another thumb drive, this time without the data pick extension. He gave a delighted chuckle and popped the drive into the car’s computer.
There was a little delay before a green check mark appeared on the monitor and a chime played.
“Thank you,” the computer voice said.
“Ha ha!” Sam Sam laughed, looking over at Karl like a child enjoying his first amusement ride. “We’ve done it!”
And with that, the engine roared to life and they drove out of the prison.
Shelter
“I wish Sam Sam could have driven us a bit farther,” the I.I. complained.
We’re lucky to have gotten as far as we did, Karl replied.
“You’re right, but this walk is a bitch.”
Yeah, well I’m the one who has to walk it.
“Still, I have to endure.”
Karl ignored him.
They had been walking for an hour now since Sam Sam had dropped them off and left them with a change of clothes. The data runner had taken them a full thirty miles away from the prison before saying goodbye and good luck. The psychologist felt lost, but grateful at the same time.
“What are we going to do when we get into town?” the I.I. asked.
I don’t know.
“You don’t know? Why not? Was this as far as you planned?”
To be honest, yes, Karl said. I hadn’t expected we’d escape, you know.
“But you should have maybe come up with a plan for after the jailbreak, don’t you think?”
Perhaps, but I didn’t.
“Well come on,” Maynard said. “Where will we stay? Don’t you know someone we can trust?”
I’m not sure, the psychologist said. Don’t you know anyone? Don’t you have any ideas?
“I don’t know!” Maynard cried, expressing true stress for the first time since he and Karl had been joined. “I’ve been dead for over a decade! Don’t you have any friends?”
Friends?
Karl’s mind raced. There were countless faces and names that ran past his thoughts, none sticking or becoming more apparent than any of the others. Old colleagues, former lovers, even childhood friends cycled through his brain until a face came into place.
“I think I know someone,” Karl said aloud. “But we have to get to town first.”
Should we hitchhike?
“No, best to play it safe. We’ll just walk.”
It’s twelve miles.
“Then we better keep moving.”
The psychologist’s fingers trembled as he waited to use the telephone in a restaurant. Maynard had advised against making the call on his personal cerebral computer, and Karl had reluctantly agreed. They’d made their way to a small mom-and-pop diner that still had a business phone with a handset resting against the wall.
The waitress had seemed annoyed when Karl asked only for the phone, so he ordered a black coffee while he waited. She seemed to be focused on something broadcasting to her cerebral
