My Scumbag System Chapter 749: Infrastructure

"Already did. Three copies. One in a storage locker under a fake name, one in a safety deposit box that does not legally exist, and one in a waterproof case at the bottom of the harbor tied to an anchor I stole from Marco’s uncle’s fishing boat."

I looked at him.

He shrugged. "Felony number six. Who’s counting."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made us both turn. Skylar came down in sweatpants and a tank top with her hair still wet from a shower. She looked at the coffee, looked at us, looked at the tablet, and walked to the fridge without saying a word.

She poured orange juice. Drank half the glass. Stared at the map on Jacob’s screen.

"Three thousand."

"Three thousand six hundred and ninety seven," Jacob said.

"Jesus Christ."

"Probably not involved, but I’ll check."

She laughed. It came out sharp and ugly and died fast. Then she turned to me with eyes that had gone from tired to something worse.

"Your dad’s a mass murderer."

"I know."

"No." She put the glass down hard enough that juice sloshed over the rim. "You don’t. Three thousand Gates means three thousand breach points. Every single one of those coordinates represents a place where reality got thin enough that something could push through. How many people died in those breaches. How many neighborhoods got flattened. How many kids woke up with monsters in their bedroom because your father needed another data point."

I didn’t have an answer for that.

She nodded like she’d expected it.

"Sunday," she said. "Your mom’s table. The president. You’re going to ask her why she let him do it."

"Among other things."

"Good." She picked up the glass, drained it, put it in the sink. "Because if you don’t, I will. And I won’t be polite about it."

She walked past me. Her hand landed on my shoulder for half a second, fingers pressing through the hoodie hard enough to leave a mark, and then she was gone.

Jacob saved his work. Closed the tablet. Looked at me with the expression of someone who’d spent six hours staring at the abyss and discovered the abyss had my last name.

"Kenji Nakano didn’t build you to be human," he said. "He built you to be infrastructure."

"I know."

"And Seraphina Vance has spent eleven years visiting the prototype models."

"I know."

"And your mother closed a door twenty three years ago that you’re currently growing the key for inside your chest."

"Jacob."

"Just making sure we’re all on the same page."

He stood. Gathered his drives. Walked toward the stairs with his shoulders hunched and his gait uneven from spending too long in a chair.

Halfway up he stopped.

"For what it’s worth," he said, not turning around. "You didn’t open the door."

Then he was gone, and I was alone in the kitchen with burnt coffee and three thousand six hundred and ninety seven reasons why my father was a monster and I was the sequel.

The sun came up slow.

By six thirty Natalia was in the kitchen wearing one of my shirts and her combat pants and nothing else. Her hair was still wet from her own shower and the white streaks caught the light like they were glowing. The Ring on her finger pulsed blue in time with my heartbeat.

She didn’t say good morning.

She put a pan on the stove, cracked six eggs into it, and pointed at the chair.

I sat.

"You’re not eating cereal," she said.

"I wasn’t going to eat cereal."

"You were absolutely going to eat cereal standing over the sink like a feral animal, and I’m not allowing it." She flipped the eggs with more violence than strictly necessary. "Today is Saturday. Tomorrow is Sunday. Sunday is your mother and the president and four thousand jars and your father’s signature. Today you’re going to sit. You’re going to eat real food. You’re going to let Emi do her eight hour sweep without complaint. And you’re going to explain to me why you called your mother at seven forty in the morning and invited Seraphina Vance to dinner without asking me first."

"You were asleep."

"I was pretending to be asleep so you would stop looking at me like I was going to shatter." She plated the eggs. Put them in front of me. Sat down across from me with her own plate and her violet eyes burning. "I’m not made of glass, Satori. Stop handling me like I am."

I ate an egg. It was perfect. She’d added cheese and something green that was probably expensive.

"You cried," I said.

"Once. In six months. After watching you almost walk through a door that would have erased you from existence." She stabbed her eggs. "I’m allowed one emotional breakdown per apocalypse. That was mine. It’s done. Now talk."

So I talked.

I told her about the call. About my mother’s voice going flat when I said Kenji’s name. About the grandmother’s dishes she was going to use because Seraphina Vance was going to sit at her table and explain why she kept breathing mistakes in a basement instead of letting them rest.

Natalia ate while I talked. When I finished she put her fork down and laced her fingers together and looked at me with the expression of someone solving a math problem she didn’t like the answer to.

"Your mother knows where he is."

"No."

"Your mother knows where he is," she said again. "Or she knows how to find him. She said he wasn’t her husband but he was when he did it. Past tense. She’s already grieving him as dead, which means she made that choice before you called. And now she’s demanding Seraphina tell her where he is, which means she needs confirmation before she does something permanent."

The coffee had gone cold in my cup.

"She’s going to kill him," I said.

"Or she’s going to make you kill him." Natalia’s eyes didn’t leave mine. "And she wants Seraphina there to see it happen. To witness it. To carry the weight of it back to her office and remember that the woman who closed the door once can open it again if someone pushes too hard."

My stomach twisted.

Natalia reached across the table. Her palm pressed flat to the back of my hand, and the Ring’s cold burned through my skin.

"Sunday," she said. "I’m holding your hand. And if your father shows up at that table, I’m holding your hand when you decide what to do about it."

"What if I do the wrong thing."

"Then you do the wrong thing with me next to you." She squeezed. "I stopped caring about right and wrong somewhere around the time I let you fuck me in my childhood bedroom. We’re past redemption. We’re in the part where we burn it all down and see what grows."

I turned my hand over. Laced our fingers together. The Ring pulsed between our palms.

"I love you," I said.

"I know," she said. "Now finish your eggs before Emi comes down here and lectures both of us about protein intake."