“I gotta say, whoever wrote that kinda nailed your voice,” Maynard commented. “You are truly a nerd.”
How is this funny? Karl thought.
“In a weird way, how is it not?” the I.I. argued.
“Police are hoping to have more insight into the thinking of Terrace and his cohorts,” the reporter carried on. “They said they are optimistic that they will have the suspect in custody before the day is at an end.”
At that last line, Thompson flicked off the display on his terminal. There was a slight buzz of electricity before the apartment filled with a stuffy silence.
“You have to leave,” Thompson said. His voice was cold and emotionless, sounding nothing like the hacker Karl knew.
“Thompson,” Karl started to defend himself. “I didn’t do these things they’re accusing me of!”
“I know,” his old friend replied. “But the people out there sure think you did. More importantly, the police think you did. They said they’re confident of your arrest. You know what that means, right?”
“It will only be a matter of time before they come here,” Maynard answered, despite Thompson being unable to hear him.
Karl’s face exposed his realization.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Thompson said. “I have too much going on here to have cops at my door. Even if they don’t find you or any evidence that you were here, I’d go to prison for the rest of my life. All this equipment? It’s not even legal to build yourself, let alone steal from government supplies. Do you have any idea how many felonies they could find in less than half an hour? No, I’m sorry. I know you’re innocent, but so am I. I cannot be taken down just for hiding you. You need to go.”
Karl wanted to say more. His lips even parted to do so, but his mind felt like a skipping record player. He wanted to defend himself more, to prove that he could be trusted, but Thompson was right. It was out of his control; he could either stay here and get caught, or flee, likely to get caught somewhere else. But at least he could keep his old friend from more trouble.
“Okay,” Karl replied, looking down at his feet. “I understand.”
He started for the small shopping bag of clothes Thompson had provided him when he’d first arrived. Thompson stopped him, then vanished into the kitchen for a moment. He returned with a few ready-to-eat-style meals and stuffed them in the bag as well.
“You’re going to want to avoid shopping for food, even using just cash,” the hacker started. “Disable your wireless services immediately and head as far out of the city as possible. After the coast is clear, I might be able to continue on the code Maynard deciphered. We’ll see. If I do, I’ll contact you somehow. Maybe snail mail, if you can figure out a way to send an address to me. I don’t know.”
Karl simply nodded. He wanted to be indignant and upset, but he could only feel numb. His mind froze up anytime he contemplated where he would go next. He only knew it couldn’t be here.
“Hey,” Thompson said, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I know you, man. You’re going to beat this. Just remember: being smart will save your life ten times more than being talented ever will.”
“I’ll remember,” Karl said in a quiet voice.
“Take care,” Thompson said.
Hiding
The wind rattled the walls of the cabin. It felt like an abominable snowman was standing outside and trying to pry the wooden boards loose by shaking the structure. The storm made it not only difficult for Karl to stay warm, but also for his old-fashioned radio to maintain a signal.
The psychologist had followed his old friend’s advice, deactivating every part of his C.C. that could connect him to the internet. He only kept whatever functions were needed to keep Maynard powered and active. Even then, he had to keep Maynard so detached from the rest of the world that it drove the I.I. into a state of constant agitation. Karl now kept his C.C. powered off for the most part.
His only access to outside information came from the small hand-held radio, which still managed to get national talk radio, a local bluegrass station, and a slightly distorted stream of classic rock. Despite being at least eighty years old, the device worked as it had been designed to. There was also the mailbox at the end of the drive, awaiting any kind of correspondence from Thompson. It had remained empty for weeks.
Growing up, Karl had despised talk radio. His father had always left it on whenever they took long trips in the car, or simply while he was doing handiwork around the property. Now, however, it was one of the only things keeping Karl sane. Music alone could only go so far with him.
The cabin belonged to Maynard, or at least it belonged to the Batiste family. It had taken about nine hours to drive there, even when they took manual shortcuts that the GPS was unaware of. The I.I. was adamant that, of all places, no one would look for them there.
When asked why, Maynard simply replied, “Because, as far as anyone outside the Batiste family is concerned, it never existed.”
Karl decided not to push the point.
It had only been a couple weeks, but the psychologist felt like it was much longer. He didn’t fare well without some connection to society. Sometimes he found himself speaking to the shadows at night. He preferred their silence to Maynard’s criticism.
The radio had started to grow fuzzy in the last four days. At first, Karl had been convinced that the radio station he listened to the most was being moved away, as though the antenna had been loaded into the back of a
