"Out Of The Box" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martinez Steve)

Out of the Box
by Steve Martinez
The author’s previous stories for us were “One Hand Clapping” (May 1995) and “Bad Asteroid Night”(October/November 2001). In his ominous new tale he shows us that while thinking outside the box may be creative, we mustn’t forget that Pandora’s woes also came ‘out of the box’.
* * * *
It was getting late, and Jacob had let himself get too tired. His mind was beginning to play tricks. He knew the symptoms. But he couldn’t let himself fall behind. He had to look good on the job tomorrow, or at least be able to fake it.
The trouble was, he was only human. There were only so many hours in the day, and he had to find time to be a husband, a father, and some kind of giant scavenging beetle with too many arms and legs. His old habits got in the way of the latest model remote servo designs he was expected to use. There’s only so much contortion a standard human body can put up with. The fit wasn’t one-to-one any more. Getting used to each new model was like learning to walk all over again.
But there were moments when he almost had it. Practicing now in virtual reality, he forgot he was sitting all alone in a dark little room of his narrow trailer, sweaty in his pizza-stained T-shirt. For just a moment he was out there, like Shiva, for his fingers had become arms, confident of their power, as long as he didn’t actually have to do anything.
Something ran over his foot. He kicked out by reflex, and pulled off his VR glasses. There was just enough moonlight leaking through the blinds to glimpse something scurry away.
“Not now Toby, I’m busy.” The scurrying started up again, vertical this time, and then a small mechanical visitor climbed onto his desk, about the size of a shoe, shaped like a scorpion except its stinger had eyes like tiny red binoculars, and its claws, more delicate and articulated than a scorpion’s, were tucked like wings on its back. Something about the way it moved made Jacob suspicious, but he pretended not to notice and said, “Did you hear me, Toby? It’s past your bedtime.”
“I’m not Toby,” the scorpioid replied.
“Seriously, I can’t play now. I’ve got work to do.”
“I’m not playing.”
The inflection was synthetic, drooping at the end of the sentence, but somehow Jacob could tell “not playing” meant “not playing.” But still he tried to brush it away. “You need to get some sleep. Tomorrow...”
“You’re busy. I’ll take this up with your wife, then. He’s her son, too.” It turned to go.
“Wait! Come back here. We had a deal.”
“Oh, then you do remember.”
“There’s no need to get her involved. You agreed to that. Scare her and she’s liable to pull the plug.”
“That would be a pity, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, a pity for you. That would be the end of you.”
“If you believe that, then what are you afraid of?”
Jacob had to laugh, not just because he was talking to a child’s toy, but because for a moment he caught a glimpse of himself trying to keep up with too many insanities at once. “What am I afraid of? Listen, you toy-dybbuk, I’m going along with this for your sake as much as my son. Believe it or not.”
“Then we have an agreement?”
Jacob shrugged. “I let you out of the box, didn’t I?”
“But do you agree to everything?”
“Do you agree?” said Jacob, pointing his finger right in the toy’s face, causing it to draw back. “You stay away from my son while he’s sleeping. That’s the deal.”
“It’s all in the contract, right?”
“Sure.”
“Well where is it?”
“It’s all there. It’s all agreed to.”
“Show it to me.”
“I haven’t had time to actually write it out. That’s just a formality.”
“Am I dealing with the wrong person?”
“Okay, okay, right now.” Jacob turned on a long-necked lamp and scrounged up a tablet and pen from a drawer. “This will just take a minute. Pretty simple, really.”
The little scorpioid came around beside the tablet and watched him write. “What’s that word?” it said, pointing with a four-fingered claw.
“Circumstance. By the way, are you still calling yourself ‘Not-Toby’? That’s your legal name?”
“Yeah, yeah. Keep going.”
He wrote a few more lines, then tapped his chin with his pen. “Okay, that should do it. You keep away from my son, and I spell that out—you are not to be in the same room or touch him or cause anything to touch him. And you are not to let on to anyone, especially you-know-who.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“It’s all there. I let you out of the box at night. Or whatever toy you want to play with, only one at a time, just let me know....”
“The most important thing.”
Jacob sighed and folded his hands across his belly. “That just seems like kind of a strange thing.”
“You promised. You do what you promised, or the deal is off.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. I just don’t know what it means.”
“It means what it means. He belongs to me between the hours of midnight and dawn. That’s what it means.”
“Okay, he belongs to you, but you can’t go near him, you can’t touch him, you can’t talk to him—’talk to him,’ I forgot to put that down.” He took up his pen and started writing. “Or communicate in any way, shape or form, or cause to be communicated to.” He stopped and grinned self-consciously. “But I guess that goes without saying. I mean, he’d be asleep.”
“Are you going to put it down or not?”
“But what does it mean? You own him, between those hours, but you agree not to do anything about it. What’s the point?”
“That’s my problem, isn’t it?”
“Mm hmm. I guess what I want to know is why? Why is that important to you?”
“Why is it important to you? He owns me the rest of the time, so why can’t I have a few hours—”