... Continued from Part 1
“Markus Ruhl requires thirty seven more seconds of charging,” the agent then stated. “Please, do not obstruct the ultraviolet radiation.”
Dave stepped out of the way of the sun.
“That thing in your head runs on solar?”
“Affirmative,” Markus responded.
Half a minute later, a faint series of beeps indicated charging was complete. The agent stood, as did the dog laying next to him.
“He is very well behaved,” Becky noted, gesturing at the golden.
Both the agent and the dog just stared off into the distance in response, the only sound coming from a nearby patron answering her phone.
Was that smoke coming out of his ears?
“Um, should we get going then,” she asked, disconcerted.
Still there was no response.
Finally, both the agent and the dog seemed to jolt awake and turn their attention to Becky.
“Apologies,” the agent said. “A staff member of this establishment was using the microwave.”
“I was just saying your dog seems highly in tune with you,” Becky said. “You’ve got this whole mind-meld thing going on.”
“Markus Ruhl is connected to his companion animal via neurolink,” the agent told her. “Markus Ruhl was the first human test subject for this technology. Perseus was the first canine subject.”
“So they moved on to humans once it was found safe and effective in dogs,” Becky asked.
“Negative,” the agent corrected. “Perseus received his implant once it was determined safe and effective in Markus Ruhl.”
Dave guffawed.
“Sounds about right,” he laughed. “Realtors, first. Then dogs, and then people.”
Becky hit him again, harder this time.
“Markus Ruhl is ready,” the agent informed. “Are Dave and Becky DeFonso?”
“Ready,” Dave agreed, rubbing his shoulder as Becky nodded.
The group began walking towards the parking lot. Becky couldn’t help but notice how the agent went to great lengths to avoid coming close to other pedestrians. He gave a wide berth to every person they passed, as did the golden.
Out of nowhere, a biker crossed in front of them. His cell phone made an ungodly screeching sound as he nearly collided with the agent, sending the biker crashing into a parked car. People came running from every direction to help. As the crowd surrounded them, one cell phone joined in the screeching, then another. Soon enough, it sounded like the emergency broadcast warning had taken over the PA system at a Spinal Tap concert.
A man grabbed his chest and fell to his knees.
“What’s happening,” Becky screamed.
“Pacemaker … or something,” Markus Ruhl answered in the same monotone.
Dave grabbed them both around the shoulders and pulled them away from the chaos. A cacophony of car alarms erupted across the parking lot. Upon reaching his Tesla, it started itself and drove into oncoming traffic. Squealing brakes, followed by the sickening crunch of heavy metal as a massive pileup ensued.
“Road hazard reported,” Markus Ruhl announced. “First appointment rescheduled to twelve forty five pm.”
A flock of flying birds fell at their feet.
The air itself crackled with electricity, and smelled of scorched circuitry. Police sirens warbled to life in the distance.
Dave and Becky took off running, the golden retriever joyfully pursuing them before bounding off to chase a squirrel up a tree. The reflectors on its jump suit flashing like a crazed disco ball.
“Recalculating,” Markus Ruhl called out, matter of factly.
The couple looked back to see the agent turning in tight circles.
“Recalculating,” he repeated, over and over again.
Becky pulled the phone out of her pocket as they ran. Once it powered on, she opened the Zillia app. Encouraged for a review of Markus Ruhl’s service, she highlighted one star.
The agent’s head promptly exploded, coating a twenty foot radius in a red mist
Her phone dinged as a confirmation message filled the screen.
Thank you for your feedback! A new agent is being located ...
An icon circled below the message as it processed.
Becky shrieked. They kept running.
When they could no longer run, they walked in silence for what felt like hours. When they could no longer walk, they sat down on the street curb.
“Jesus,” Dave breathed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “Who knew Blade Runner was a fucking documentary?”
“I can’t stop shaking,” Becky answered. “I’m ready to get off of this planet.”
Dave held her for a long moment.
Eventually, Becky remembered the phone in her hand. She swiped off the message that now read, Agent Located!, and opened her UBER app.
Prompted to enter a destination, Becky turned to Dave.
“Did you happen to catch the address of that first place,” she asked.
Dave turned his palms up and shrugged in response.
Her phone screeched in her hand.
“Eight one seven five North Oakshore Drive,” a new voice said just behind them, followed by shallow, rhythmic panting.
Comments(6)