Missing pieces

The chants of the protestors faded as the door closed behind Harry. His footsteps echoed in the empty space as he approached the desk. The receptionist looked up, her straight, jet black hair cut to a perfect bob, not a strand out of place, her dark suit looked expensive, it probably cost more than Harry’s car. She smiled, that fake, forced smile employed by receptionists everywhere.

“Mr Serwatka, how good to see you, your father said you would be dropping by today.”

“Yep,” Harry replied absently scratching his ear.

“My apologies for the people outside, they seem to be there every day now. I hope they didn’t give you any problems.”

“Not really, I guess they thought I was making a delivery.”

Her eyes drifted over his clothes, the worn tan jacket, jeans, scuffed boots, out of place in this preserve of the rich and famous.

“I see,” she said.

The elevator doors behind the desk pinged, a tall woman in a white lab coat stepped out, her tight black curls pulled back in a severe ponytail. Her heels clicked on the white marble as she crossed to meet him.

“Hello Mr Serwatka, I’m Kim, I’ll be your operator today.” She shook his hand and headed back to the elevator, “Follow me please, this won’t take long, about fifteen minutes for someone of your age.”

“Oh, that’s quicker,” Harry said.

“Yes, we’ve been using this new system for a while now. When was your last update?”

“It’s been a while.”

She looked down at the tablet she was holding. “Really, Mr Serwatka, eight months. We recommend people come in at least every two weeks. Think of all the things you would be missing in that time. We have some people come in every Monday morning for a backup.”

“I guess they have more exciting weekends than me.”

“That’s not the point, Mr Serwatka, there is little point in keeping your backups if they are not up to date.” The elevator doors closed behind them, cutting off the last sounds of the protest outside.

The lab was stark, white walls and crisp marble floors, just a black, leather, reclining chair and a desk with a terminal in the centre of the room. A white helmet, sat on the desk.

“Would you like to see your avatar before we get started?” Kim said

“You have got to be kidding me, I saw that once when I was a kid and it freaked me out. I’m only here because my father said he’d cut me off if I didn’t come.”

“Okay, please take a seat and we’ll be done in a few minutes.”

The leather of the seat was soft and warm, it smelt faintly of alcohol, as if it had just been wiped clean.  The helmet gripped his head tightly, Kim flipped the screen down, images began to spool, flickering past, his eyes struggling to keep up.

***

The light was blinding, Harry screwed up his eyes against it and found they were already closed. Pain lanced through his head, needles in his brain, his fists clenching and unclenching, thrashing against the straps, tight against his arms and legs.

“Heart rate spiking, one eighty.”

“Give me one fifty of Andocane.”

The pain eased, and the light dimmed, his eyes flicked open, the room blurred.

“He’s coming round.”

A hazy face appeared in front of him, “Easy now Mr Serwatka, you’re fine, this confusion is completely normal. Just relax.”

He tried to speak, but something was in his mouth, down his throat, choking him. He tried to reach it, straining against the straps.

A hand pressed down on his shoulder, “Just relax, it’s all fine. Give me another one fifty of Andocane.”

The room darkened; the beeping machines faded.

***

Harry sat up and screamed, clutching his throat. Pulling at the tube in his throat, frantically scratching across his face, trying to rip it out.

“It’s gone. There’s nothing there.” A woman stood up from the chair across the room. Sunlight from the large windows, streamed through her auburn hair. She walked awkwardly across the room, her round belly, sticking out in the dress. She lent forward and kissed him, her hands gripping his hair. “It’s good to see you, my love. Although it’s going to take some getting used to, you being younger than me.” She took his hand and held it to her swollen belly, “He’s been kicking, I guess he wants to see his dad.”

Harry snatched his hand back, “Who are you?” It came out as a barely audible whisper.

The door swung open, Kim stepped in, crisp white lab coat, tablet tucked under one arm. She looked older somehow, flecks of grey in her hair, faint lines creasing the dark skin at the edges of her eyes.

“Hello again, Mr Serwatka, don’t try and speak, it will take a while before you can talk normally, we can do most things, but we can’t exercise the vocal cords of our avatars. So, no more than a whisper for at least a week, and certainly no singing or shouting for a month.”

“What…”

Kim held up a hand, “Just let me explain, there is plenty of time for questions later, you’ll be here for a few weeks before you can go home. This is for you too, Mrs Serwatka.”

Harry looked at the woman standing beside him, she smiled and sat in the chair beside his bed, holding his hand gently. He tried to pull away but his arms were weak and didn’t seem to do what he wanted.

“The disorientation will pass quickly,” Kim said, “but you will struggle to walk and move normally, the memories of how to do it are there but the rest of your body has never done it before. We can keep your muscles strong, everything working, but your body needs to learn automatic reactions and balance again.” She smiled at them. “Don’t worry about this, while it might be new to you, we do this all the time. We have around twenty people a week taking up their avatars. Mostly by choice, the old wanting to be young again. But sadly, there are too many, who like you, need to take up their avatars more urgently.”

The woman sat beside him, squeezed his hand, “You were stabbed, Harry, I’m sorry.”

Kim stood at the foot of the bed, “You need to hear this too, Mrs Serwatka—”

“Anne, please call me Anne.”

“Okay, Anne, Harry. Can I call you Harry?” He nodded, “Harry, this will take a little getting used to. Harry your Avatar is nineteen.”

He snapped his eyes from studying the strange woman holding his hand back to Kim, “Nineteen?” he whispered. “I’m—"

“Yes, thirty-four. Your father refused to keep any older avatar’s once the replacement hit eighteen. I’m sorry but company policy is that whoever is the account holder calls the shots.”

“Now, Anne, this will be more difficult for you to hear.” Kim pulled up a chair and sat beside Anne, she took Anne’s hand and held it between hers. “There’s no easy way to say this, Harry’s last back up was twenty-three months ago.”

“What…No…So he—”

“He’s never met you, I’m so sorry.”

Tears streamed down Anne’s face. “Harry,” she squeezed his hand again, “Harry, I love you. You can’t have forgotten that.”

“It happened right outside, one of the protestors, they have become increasingly violent in recent months, we tried to get him in the chair, but it was too late.” Kim paused, she looked up and took a deep breath. “This hasn’t ever happened to one of our clients before, most people backup regularly, a few weeks or a holiday at most.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Harry croaked.

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant. We don’t really know what will happen, things have changed for you Harry, your life has moved on. You have a beautiful wife, with a baby on the way. But look, you’re still you.” Kim glanced at the screen of her tablet. “You met only a few months after the backup, so the things that made you fall in love in the first place, will still be there.”

Kim stood up, “Take time, talk,” she smiled at Harry, “quietly. Get to know each other again. Find that spark that brought you two together.” In the doorway she turned, “Why don’t you start with how you first met.”

***

The building shook, the tremors making Harry’s hand slip from the rails. He slumped to the floor; legs not quite ready to catch him as he stumbled. Anne walked slowly over one hand on her back, she reached down to him.

“Don’t help him,” Sandro said. He was dressed in what Harry thought of as ‘Physio green’. “He needs to be able to get up on his own, he’ll never learn if you help him.”

Harry looked up from the floor, “We don’t normally get quakes, do we.” He pulled himself upright on the bars and moved on a few faltering steps. The wheelchair by the door an ever-present reminder that he still had a way to go.

“Not many quakes, the occasional tremor, but not for a while.”

There was a rattling sound from the corridor.

“That sounded like—” Anne said.

“Gunfire,” Harry finished for her.

The door burst open, a short man in ‘Orderly blue’ burst in, “Sandro, we have to get out now, they’ve broken in. They’re attacking the facilities all over the country.”

Sandro, looked at Harry, “Sorry,” he ran across the room and kissed the man in blue, “I’ve got to go.”

As they fled through the door, the orderly shouted over his shoulder, “Go now. Hide. They are executing our clients in their homes. They have—” A line of bullets ripped up his body spinning him.

Anne screamed as a man burst into the room, he was dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt spotted with blood. She stepped in front of Harry as he raised his weapon, the barrel seemed like a cavernous hole about to swallow them.

“Get out of the way, lady.”

“No. You’ll have to kill us both.”

“Anne, think of our baby.”

“I am,” she said.

He looked at her, sighting down the barrel. Then at her swollen belly, the gun wavered, he glanced back into the corridor, then back to her. He lowered the gun and ran from the room.

“We have to hide,” Harry said, “if we go out there, we’re dead.”

Anne put Harry’s arm around her shoulder and they shuffled across the room, the door to the physio store was open, they squeezed in amongst the kettlebells and mats. Pulling the door closed behind them. In the dark, with Anne pressed tight to his chest, the realisation of what she had just done to save his life sunk in. He wrapped his arms around her, she was trembling. His hands resting on her belly, he felt her baby move, no, he felt their baby move. He smiled as she leant her head against him.

***

The building grew quiet, the sounds of gunfire had stopped hours before. The sliver of light from under the door of the storage closet, faded to grey and then black. Anne slipped from Harry’s arms easing the door ajar. She edged out into the room. Harry followed as best he could, legs wobbling and threatening to buckle with every step.

They wrapped their arms around each other and slowly shuffled to the door. The corridor was deserted, the bodies of those shot dead as they worked still lying where they fell.

“Where are the police?” Harry whispered.

“I-I don’t know.”

The bank of lifts was dark, no comforting glow when the buttons were pressed. Bloody smeared handprints and pock marks marred the normally pristine silver doors. The stairway door was riddled with holes. Anne pulled the handle, the door swung open and a lifeless body slumped into the corridor. Dark stains spreading from ragged holes in their chest.

Anne covered her mouth stifling a scream. Awkwardly they stepped over the man, Harry let go and grabbed the railing, he lent over the stairwell peering down into the darkness. The emergency light shone dimly over the floor number.

“Oh God, seven,” Harry said. “Why couldn’t physio be on the ground floor, or even on two with the accommodation.”

“I guess stairs are good exercise,” Anne said. “My car is in the basement.”

“Great, well, sooner started, sooner finished.”

The stairs seemed to go on for ever, Harry had just about managed one step up or down in the physio room, but one after another was beyond him. Trying to think through each step, which muscles to move was impossible. Walking down stairs is automatic, your legs know what to do. He slid, stumbled and tripped down each flight. After a while he found it easier to lean over the rail, half hanging into the void and slide down, his feet rattling uselessly over the treads.

At the basement, they staggered to the doors. Anne leaned against the frame. Hands on her back, her breathing laboured.

“Stop, stop, I just need a minute.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, “rest a bit, I was only thinking about me. I’ll get the car, where is it. Actually, what is it?”

“Wait, you can’t drive, it’s is even more automatic than walking. They did tell you.”

“I know, I just hate being this helpless.”

Her car was a four-year-old BMW estate, thankfully undamaged. The car beside it was riddled with bullets, the windscreen caved in. The occupants slumped in the front seats. They sat with the key in the ignition, looking around the deserted carpark.

“What now?” Anne said.

“Now we go, get the hell out of here.”

“No, I mean, what now with us, where do we go. It’s only been a few days, I know you, I love you, but you don’t know me.”

“Oh,” Harry smiled, he reached over and put his hand on her belly, “this is our baby, I know I loved you, maybe together we can fall in love all over again.”

Anne put one hand over his, a tear ran down her cheek. She started the engine, “Where now?”

“For now, just drive, get us out of here. Until we know it’s safe, we can’t go home.” He laughed. “I don’t even know where home is. I assume we have one.”

She pulled out of the space and slowly threaded her way out of the deserted car park. The barrier was smashed, lying across the road opposite the ramp.

“Yes, we have a home, we’ve lived there a year. But you’re right… Maybe we could go to my dad’s hunting cabin. It’s quiet, nearest town is five miles, we could talk.”

“I’d like that. You didn’t tell me your dad had a cabin.”

“Of course I did, you’ve been there.” She grinned at him, squeezed his hand resting on her bump, “In fact it’s where we made this.”