This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, The Man With Three First Names.
Two weeks later Michael found himself walking through the rose garden at the White House, with the President. The morning air was crisp, and the wind was kicking up a little bit. The President, wearing a long coat, though he could have cared less about the actual temperature, smiled and talked with the man with three first names.
They shook hands.
“It’s good to see you, Mike.”
“It’s good to see you, sir.”
“How has the business down south been treating you?”
“Can’t complain. Not many people remember. It’s getting harder and harder to say it wasn’t a line of tornadoes now.”
“Well, that’s good.”
President clapped Michael on the back. “What do you say to a stroll?”
“That’d be nice sir.” They began to walk out on the front lawn, members of the secret service in the wings behind them, fanning out like ducks.
“Ah, don’t worry about them. Half of them are robots too.”
“And what about the other half?”
The President laughed. It was a simple laugh, quiet and short, but Michael knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with it today.
“I wish you’d reconsider. There’s plenty of space for you here on my staff. With the election coming up, who knows. I could use you. I need you.”
“And you’ll have me. I’ll be around, just not on your direct payroll.”
“That’s the way you like it anyway, isn’t it?”
“Yep.”
“What’s with the whole Man With Three First Names thing anyway? I’ve always wondered that.”
It was Michael’s turn to laugh. The President knew better.
“I know. None of my business, right?”
“Nope.”
“Can I offer you anything, a better office, maybe a small staff? What about another partner? I heard about Simon, I hope he’s doing well.”
“I think he’ll be back eventually, but no, I don’t need a partner. I don’t need anything.”
“I think you do. I think you need people. As many people as you usually end up tagging along with you on a mission. You know how to pick them.”
“That I do.”
“Aliens, travelers…”
“Robots.”
“Yes, robots. I’ve heard you have a talking zombie head in your office. That ought to be fun.”
“Two.”
“Oh, two is it?”
“Yeah, well it’s best to keep them in pairs so they have someone to talk to when I’m off galavanting about.”
“I know what you mean.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, have you heard the vice president and the speaker of the house? They’re like two zombie heads in my office sometimes.”
“I can imagine.”
“Look, why’d you come here today Michael? What can I help you with?”
“I was just checking in.”
“Checking in.”
“Well, after a case… I wanted to make sure there was nothing I could do for you.”
The President thought about this for a moment, which to a human must have been like reading the contents of the Library of Congress in a millisecond, and said, “I’d like to see him.”
“No, Look, No, that’s just not a good idea.”
“I play the part every day. Hell, I’ve assumed all his responsibilities plus, and only you and I and the secret service here know I’m a…”
“I know.”
“A robot. There, I said it. I’d like to see him. People look up to me. They ask me to solve their problems and help them work out their differences. I have a right.”
“A right?”
“Even as a robot, you bet. It’s all I want. Where is he? Can I see him? I have to know.”
“He’s very sick.”
“I know. It’s all I know. It’s all I know that he isn’t dead. I want to meet him.”
“He won’t even know you’re there.”
“Try me.”
“Okay.”
“Michael looked up at the secret servicemen. Gentlemen, I have to take the President for a ride. He touched a control on his belt, and the car arrived quickly to pick them up. I know you have to be with him, but I can only take two of you. We’ll be gone for a couple of hours, who wants to come?”
Two of the seniors stepped foreword. They held back the rest of them with a wave. Everyone got on board, and they drove off.
Michael was headed out of the city when they pulled out the blindfolds.
The three of them put them on without a protest. They knew where they were going.
The car slung out into the sky and dipped and weaved about until finally settling down into a regular, low pattern. It slid through a tunnel, with other cars in another nearby city sometime later, and then somewhere dark, dank and cool, they came to a stop.
“All right, you can all take them off.”
They got out of the car in an underground facility. Above one of the doors from the hangar/garage was a DNA strand logo covered in stars, and the moniker The Sublight Group. He walked them through the doors, which swung open, and all around them, people got out of the way. Many nodded and said hello to Michael, but most had been trained not to acknowledge him. He wasn’t in charge, he was just welcome and trusted.
They made their way down fluorescent-lit corridors that felt like they’d been designed by someone who did public school buildings and libraries in the seventies. There was a faint yet acrid ammonia smell to the place.
Michael led them down to the last door at the end of a long windy series of packages. The door was black and shiny. There was a card lock on the side. Michael just waved his hand over it, and the door opened.
“He’s actually awake,” said a guard.
He peaked in.
“Sir? You have a visitor.”
An ailing voice beckoned them in.
The door slid closed behind them, and they were in his presence.
Sitting, in a wheelchair, and hooked up to about a hundred cables was the President, the real President. He looked about ten years older than the one standing next to Michael, and there was a reason for that, it had been by design. He appeared asleep, but the head moved and the eyes listed to the right to look at them. He spoke low into a microphone that echoed his raspy voice all around the room.
“So, you wanted to meet me then?”
“I did.”
Michael stepped back with the secret service guys.
“What do you think?” he whispered to the robot.
“I don’t know. What happened?”
“It was in my second year in office. You aren’t even supposed to remember this. I went off on a mad chase with Michael here. Look at him, he’s slinking away from us, getting out of the picture a little, as much as he can.”
The real President coughed, but couldn’t get his arm up to his face, and the spittle just ran down his shirt.
The robot President winced and turned to watch Michael.
“Oh don’t blame him, He and I have been getting into trouble for years. I just caught a bad one this time, an alien virus. It left me like this. He and I brought in doctors and technicians from all across the galaxy but nothing in the realm of science could help me. Nothing seemed to work, so we built you.”
“Do I make my own decisions?”
“You’re programmed to do what I would do in any given situation, and you do a good job. Is that answer satisfactory?”
“As good as it gets I suppose.”
“I suppose so too.”
“What about you, is there hope?”
“If there weren’t, I wouldn’t be alive now. If it means anything to you, You’re doing pretty well, though you could treat Michael here a little better sometimes. He does take good care of us.”
“What is this place?”
“It’s the Sublight group. It’s my company.”
“Wasn’t the Sublight group responsible for the portal?”
“Yes, well we’re into a bunch of things these days, all in the interests of national defense.”
“Can I come back?”
“Michael?”
“Michael turned his head.”
“Can he come back?”
Michael looked at the Robotic president. “You know how I feel about that.”
“He says, of course. It’s Michael’s way. He thinks people who are curious should know, especially when the secret is about them in the first place.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
“Michael?” said the real President.
“Yes?”
“I’ve got another assignment for you.”
“Give me the details, and I’m on it.”
“Just what I was hoping for, get in your car, I’ll tell you on the way.”
The President and his men were dropped off back at the white house, and after sliding by Jen and Walter’s new place for a bite to eat, he was back in the sky.
He touched the video unit on his dashboard and the face of the President, the real President appeared.
“Michael, I’ve got a job for you. It’s pretty strange, I need you to turn south and head for the Florida Everglades.”
“Oh, not another swamp creature again.”
“Hear me out pal, this isn’t an ordinary swamp creature.”
“What’s different about this one then? Does it grow psychedelic mushrooms on its back and kill people by convincing the bacteria in its enemy’s stomach to revolt against it?”
“No,” he said with a smile.
“So then it feeds on local wildlife, making a mockery of the dead remains by using them for demented puppet shows?”
“Now that’s just sick.”
“Or how about this, does it control the alligators with its luminous hive mind, and cause them to eat tourists near some swamp park?”
“Hardly.”
“What is it then? What are you sending me up against?”
“It’s just Harvis, he wants a word about the car. He called me earlier and was asking what you were up to later.”
“That rabbit? Is the car what he wants?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s been calling my cellphone all day.”
“Why didn’t you answer it?”
“Why would I want to talk to him? He can’t have my car.”
Michael flew into the swamps, and out of sight.
Later that night, Simon hit the ground hard, smoldering at the hair, a crazed look in his eye. He’d managed the jump all on his own. He lumbered through the swamps, his feet still hot and stinging from the journey, burning his footprints into the ground as he walked. When he dipped his feet into the water, they hissed and popped as the water vaporized.
His skin healed as he made his way through the swamp, following the trail of Michael’s flying car.