Chapter 9
Day 80
Whether it was because of Natalie’s advice, the simmering worry inside him or just out of sheer boredom, Jeremiah didn’t know, but late on a Friday afternoon a few weeks later, he found himself gleefully blasting virtual enemy soldiers into fiery bits in a game of Infinite Frontiers with Brent. He had to admit, there was a certain appeal to it. Teeth gritted behind his headset, he became slowly more comfortable with the intricate gestures and eye movements Brent had shown him to get his aim right. If Parker could see him now, he thought, he’d never believe it. And he was having fun.
They fought on the same side against a squadron of AI snipers and took turns ducking behind tanks and blown-out bunkers, shooting into the field so Jeremiah could get the hang of the most important aspects of the controls. Every now and then, Brent would send his avatar creeping out into the arena so Jeremiah could practice covering him against enemy fire. He wasn’t very good at it and, more than once, Brent’s player died an unceremonious death while Jeremiah failed to realize his weapon needed reloading. Every blast of machine gun spray and each explosion rocked through his headset and set his teeth on edge. But his adrenaline was pumping like he hadn’t felt it in months, and he sat on the edge of his seat as he practiced his aim. They could type to converse during game play, and Brent made him practice that, too. The letter selection was operated by the hand controller, which took some getting used to, so Jeremiah made his fair share of typos in his attempts at communicating, insisting several times that he needed more powerful gums.
After both soldiers were obliterated for the fifteenth time, Brent exited the game and switched the monitor to standby.
“Almost time for the viewing,” he said. “Duty calls.”
“I’d rather keep playing than sit and watch that clone for four hours. I can totally see how someone could get hooked on this stuff,” Jeremiah said. He took off his headset and combed his fingers through his hair. He’d been letting it grow, along with his beard, for the past few weeks and it was long enough now to snag a bit in the back.
“I know, right? Maybe now you’ll go easier on Parker when you get home.”
At the mention of his son, a wave of regret washed over Jeremiah. Parker had been on his mind during the entire game. Part of him had picked up that controller in a futile effort to feel closer to him, but somehow, he felt more removed from him than ever. Why, just once, couldn’t he have thought to join Parker in one of his games? Why had he let it become a wedge between them?
“Hell, I’ll probably start pestering him to let me play,” Jeremiah said sullenly. “You want to make some dinner before this thing turns on? I’ve been wanting to try lasagna.”
“This is something I need to see,” Brent said. “All this time I thought your specialty was toast.”
“I’m branching out,” Jeremiah told him. “You’re rubbing off on me. Besides, I have so little to do around here that eating has taken on a whole new meaning. I like my food these days.”
Brent followed him into the kitchen and went into the fridge to get them some beers while they worked on dinner. Jeremiah didn’t know when, exactly, but they’d quietly begun opening their first even before the viewing started.
“Hey, what’s with all the light beer?” Brent asked. “Where’s the good stuff? You drinking my beers on me?”
“No, they’re in there. Just look. While you’re at it, get me the cheese, too.”
“I am looking. It’s not here. The only beer in here is this crap.” Brent handed a package to Jeremiah and, with a grim expression, opened a can of light beer.
“This is fat-free mozzarella,” Jeremiah said, tossing the package aside. “Is there anything else in there? What the hell is fat-free cheese even made from, anyway? I thought cheese was fat.”
“That’s it for the cheese. What gives, porky? You on a diet or something?”
“Not that I know of,” Jeremiah said, and stuck his head in the fridge. “What the hell? What happened to all my food?”
There was no half-and-half, a piece of chocolate cake saved from yesterday was gone and the milk had been replaced with a carton of something that looked like it had been used to clean a paintbrush. There were more fruits and vegetables than an average horse could eat in a week. He checked the freezer. Ice cream had been replaced with frozen fruit bars and an entire stack of frozen pizzas had simply disappeared.
“Okay,” he said, shaking his head. “Something’s gone crazy around here. I have this thing programmed to order my food in a very particular way. None of this fat-free, diet garbage is on my list. That’s for sure.”
“That’s weird,” Brent said. “Maybe a malfunction or something?”
“That’s quite a malfunction, I’d say.” Jeremiah went to the old-fashioned telephone and picked it up for the first time in more than a month.
A cheery female voice greeted him as soon as the receiver was at his ear.
“Good evening, Mr. Adams,” she said. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes, h-hello,” he stammered, still feeling somewhat like he was calling room service in an overpriced hotel. “I wonder if you could tell me what’s happened to all the food in my refrigerator. It seems to have been stolen and replaced with an assortment of inedible things. Fat-free milk, for example. And fruit.”
“That was an order from Dr. Pike, Mr. Adams. He sent it down this afternoon. Is there a problem?”
“Yes,” he told her. “The problem is I won’t eat any of this stuff. The problem is I am going to starve to death in here. I’m no
