We haven’t proven that, Karl said. All we know is that Stewart and Stalward are both involved in the shootings.
“What, you think they’re just two fellows helping each other out? Isn’t my word—my memory—enough for you? You’re not adhering to Occam’s Razor, my friend.”
Well, it’s not exactly Occam’s Razor, is it? Karl argued. I simply can’t accept that an age-defying silicon addict, who once killed you and is now setting me up in order to reprogram I.I.s, is the “simplest solution.”
“The evidence is there. What’s left to argue?”
I don’t know. I just don’t like it.
“Karl, why don’t you trust me?” The I.I. seemed to sigh. “After all we’ve been through, and the way we’re connected, I find it a bit distasteful that you still won’t trust my judgement.”
I’m sorry, Karl thought. You must understand, I’m a scientist. I find it hard to accept any answer unless it’s the only one that remains.
“So you won’t even consider my theory?”
I am, Karl said. In fact, I still posted the letter to Thompson. I want to know for sure if there’s a connection between Stewart and Stalward—a public connection, that is—because I consider it a possibility.
“So then you do believe me.”
At least a little bit.
There was a moment of quiet as Maynard continued reading the receipt Thompson had typed out by hand. Karl had already read it, but he followed along.
“The package came from a place called Fort Leddy, Wyoming. I’ve never heard of it,” Maynard said.
I’m not surprised, Karl started. Fort Leddy was built a little bit after your death. It was part of some sort of urbanization-of-the-Midwest push some property developers came up with when I was a kid.
“Is there great significance to this town?” Maynard asked.
That’s subjective, but I think so. Let me explain a little, Karl thought.
Fort Leddy existed for only for about twenty years before it became a ghost town. You see, it was founded at the brilliant dawn of Universal Connectivity, but unfortunately in the wrong place. When the government passed the law making the internet and computer connectivity a basic human right, broadband companies and even municipalities started building the infrastructure required to offer almost everyone in the nation free fiber-optic internet. First, all the major cities were refitted, one block at a time. Then they started to stretch out, using these urban hubs as “broadband centers,” from which everyone’s connection was supplied.
Unfortunately, Fort Leddy was built just far enough from any major city or urban area and with such a small population that it would be impractical to construct the broadband infrastructure for them and connect it all the way to the nearest hub. Without that connectivity, the Fort Leddians were like cavemen in a modern world. Rather than stay, everyone decided to move away and abandon the town to the cobwebs.
“So what does that have to do with us or the shootings?” Maynard said. “Why do you even know so much about this?”
Because Stewart grew up in Fort Leddy, Karl said. He told me all about it when we worked together.
Black Market
Even though all the people on the sidewalk ignored him as he tugged his hood farther down, Karl was sure they were all watching him. He had grown quite an impressive beard during his hideout in the cabin, which obscured his face and turned him into a stranger. He didn’t bathe often, either, for he didn’t see the point, so that helped hide the fact that the dirty, disheveled man walking down the street was Dr. Karl Terrace, the most wanted man in the country.
It was a Saturday morning, which probably wasn’t the best time to seek secrecy. There were lots of families and couples out perusing the stores and commenting on items through the windows with their lattes clutched in their hands. Some had bags of groceries, and others were cleaning the sidewalks and putting out sandwich boards.
Karl felt a twinge of disgust from an older couple that he nearly ran into. He was so unpleasant that people avoided looking at him.
As far as they all knew, he was just a homeless guy who had given up on the laborious tasks of hygiene. They seemed to part around him, worried that he’d dirty their clothes if he bumped into them. Some darted to the other side of the street clutching at their pockets, concerned he might ask for some of their hard-earned money. He did none of that. He just walked.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Maynard asked.
I’m not sure of anything anymore, Karl said.
“Don’t be melodramatic. Give me a straight answer.”
We need a gun if we’re going to Fort Leddy, Karl explained. There’s no telling what we’ll find there. Probably more of Stewart’s hired goons.
“Why do we even have to go?” Maynard asked. “Why chase after a town that shipped guns to Denver?”
Because they were sent by Mr. Stalward.
“You don’t even believe in the Stewart-Stalward connection. You said so yourself.”
I’m starting to. At least it’s a lead.
“A lead to a dead end,” Maynard said. “Or even worse, if you’re right. What is the plan if this Fort Leddy turns out to be a den of terrorists and conspirators? Are we gonna go in guns blazing?”
No, Karl replied. We’re going to be smart.
“It’d be a first.”
The fugitive ignored him and continued walking until a chain link fence replaced the brick buildings that had passed them on the right. The man he was meeting had said to turn right once he reached the fence and follow it to a parking lot with a hardware store sign in it.
“Are you sure your little meeting isn’t a setup?” Maynard asked. “Maybe you were monitored. We could be walking into a sting operation.”
I went to an internet cafe, Karl said. No ID, no trace. No one knows about the meeting.
“That doesn’t mean he’s not a cop,” Maynard said. “Maybe he’s an undercover badge tasked specifically with bringing you in. Have you ever stopped to
