Forbidden Fruit

Chapter 1

My heart couldn’t stop beating out of my chest. We had the recipe for disaster every time we got together, but that was the thrill of it all, wasn’t it? You told me you were scared once, a long time ago. That orange dress that you still wear, you swear it’s red and it looked as good as ever on you. Up the stairs, to the rooftop; Jennings’ guy was behind us. Judging by the distant slam of a door, shit, he was close. You told me to stop cussing and, I’ve been trying, but it just isn’t easy in these types of situations.

“D,” I said, collecting myself. You turned around swiftly and your curls bobbed around the side of your timeless face, your silky brown skin seeming to command them to remain in place. I could never tell you how I truly see you, your awareness would taint the novelty and there are some things in this world that I prefer to keep to myself. You’ve always been fierce, but that night you were something else entirely.

I reached for my phone as I began to explain to you exactly why we couldn’t move from the rooftop, biding time as a distraction from the footsteps coming behind us.

“Aside from the fact that we’re cornered on top of a skyscraper in Los Angeles?” you asked. “I mean, hey, maybe we should have just spent this ‘so-called $20,000’ on a helicopter! There’s a landing pad up here!”

“Yes,” I moved closer, “Give me your phone.” You were way too sharp to buy it. A high speed chase over $20,000? But, that’s what I love about you. You’ve been through so much, and instead of it breaking you, it’s become an armor, forged in fire and smithed from the benefit of the doubt.

I took the SIMs out and snapped them in half. Quickly discarding my phone over the roof, I could hear Jennings’ guy. We were really cutting it close, my love. I turned off your phone, carefully inserted the pieces of both of our SIMs into the slots that I had installed on the sides of the phone, held the power button down and waited for the logo to appear on the screen. That white apple appeared, and as it started turning to a pinkish red I knew it had worked. No time to celebrate, just one last step and we would be safe.

You wouldn’t be able to tell in your voice, but you were actually starting to panic, I could sense it.

“Can you hurry that thing up?”

“What’s two plus three?” I asked you.

“Seventeen.”

“That’s right.” We continued our safe phrase.

“Why’d you bite the apple?” you asked, collecting yourself. We looked intently at each other.

“That part is forbidden,” we said in unison, “but red is the color of love.”

The phone vibrated.

‘Perfect,’ I thought when I saw the red text below a completely red, unbitten apple on the start screen.

FORBIDDEN ERROR 404 NOT FOUND. DESYNCHRONIZING PLATFORM.

The door swung open.

Chapter 2

“This book is really something, huh?” asked Eliza. It’s still amazing how much she looks like me, but I would be remiss to think she wasn’t just like you. “What did you say the name of it was, daddy? MoldZen?”

“It’s Moleskine, honey,” you said, amused, over the sound of kitchen dishes and running water. It was New Year’s Day, 2021.

“Moleskin,” Eliza fancied, “So you’re telling me,” she started, “that this little black notebook can show me all the crazy things you and dad did when you were younger? That’s so cool,” she said. “Like, spies, though, mom? Like, actual spies?”

She’s way too smart for a 12 year old. You started laughing.

“First of all, Shook, your mother and I aren’t even 50. Don’t you try me like that,” I said with a grin, back hurting and all. “Second of all, you’re still my little cub, emphasis on little, age wise.” I was never smooth around the edges, I’m getting better. “Don’t let your intelligence tell you otherwise, okay?”

Shook was a nickname I had given Eliza when she was a baby due to the fact that she would literally do anything to communicate with you as a newborn, including, but not limited to: wiggling, squeaking, yelling, pseudo-yodeling, and more. The name aged well, however, my Shooky Bear has become less shaken since she learned how to speak, and she made the same face all pre-teens make when you tell them they don’t have everything all figured out. She started searching her faculties for a subject change. I chimed in after a moment, “Eliza,” I said, “I need you to hear this, I’m only going to say it once, dear.”

She’s not a fan of things when they get pensive. Eliza began to turn her head back to the little black notebook on the coffee table. Wise as always, she noticed the dent in between the pages. ‘You made it this far,’ I thought while trying to figure out how to carefully choose my next words. You turned the water off in the kitchen and there was an air of anticipation through the house. It hasn’t been this quiet in ages.

“Dad,” Eliza turned to me, her thumb smoothing the edge of the page, “What is it?” She began to unconsciously turn the page.

“Eliza.” She shook. “What you’re about to discover is of paramount importance. The memory preserver simulation was originally programmed to remove you from the projection before you got to the rooftop. The fact that you got all the way to the apple tells me that you are far well advanced for your age. Do you want to know what the algorithm was designed to d-”

“The algorithm was designed to allow access based on relation to family via optical comparison,” she cut me off, “which would get me to the roof just by being related to you, and Dad, you and I both know that Mom is the programmer here,” Eliza explained.

Ouch. Did you give birth to a genius or a monster? “Ok but,” I started.

“The second prerequisite is,” she continued, “the engaged must not only have a mature, active cerebral pattern, but an exponential increase in interest as the story progresses,” she let out a sigh, “which is tested every fraction of a second, based on facial and optical micromovements as a denominator for interest and emotional response. Typically, this type of activity can be falsified if you’re a good actor like me, but Dad, you were smart enough to have your own invention applied to this particular notebook. We all know about your world-famous ‘Ivy’. All your weirdo friends went crazy when you put that Black Panther-y nanosensor grid into a spraycan. Who knew so many people had a thing for graffiti?”

‘Genius.’

“It’s not like just anybody would be able to dig into your diary when the personal content just disappears based on the reader’s intentions. In some ‘bad guy’s’ case, it would be as if yours and mom’s story never existed. I mean, these things can sense bad vibes within a mile radius, and on top of that, it can even tell if someone was put up to extracting information. Fitting for, well, you guys.”

“Eliza,” you said.

“No wonder so many awkward suits kept showing up at our door!” she said excitedly.

It was a valiant effort, honey.

“It makes perfect sense! You guys used to always tell me they were my rich uncles coming to check up on us! Anyway, I remember you told me once that, um, ‘bad intentions’ or whatever, vibes, are ‘etherically tangible’, which is a fancy word for it lives within us, and ‘mentally perceivable’ because of an innate reaction we humans have- like how sometimes I don’t always feel safe, so I look over my shoulder to see if there’s something there, or if when I’m happy, I start to dance. Basically, it’s the instinct to survive and the impulse of celebration.

“Mom, Dad, you told me that bad people try to use good people, and that since good people aren’t scary, it can leave them vulnerable to being used or manipulated. But, Mom and Dad, you also said bad vibes move like shadows, projecting from one person out and onto another, where good vibes are what makes you want to dance when you watch someone else dance: in other words, they’re happy! This is what makes the Ivy so special, it can pick up on a good person doing something on a bad person’s behalf.”

‘I think she might be broken,’ I thought.

“And somehow, Dad, you managed to stick all of that in a spraycan like glitter paint!”

‘You know what? I’m not surprised.’

Final Chapter

Eliza took a big breath, “What I’m trying to say is, you did everything you could to lock this thing down so that only me or mom could get in without any issues. Anyone else who even remotely has a chance at getting in would probably be, like, a couple in love or, like, someone very smart,” she rolled her eyes, looked dead at me and smiled big, “with a strong love of learning and no trace of being a threat. Aside from me and mom,” she did a cocky little hair flip, “the only people cracking your code are lovebirds and geniuses. Now, that’s a slim chance, if any at all, really. At that point, who’s to say that it would really matter if they knew?”

‘Do you hear her? I am just beyond words. I think she might have taken them all, to be honest.’ You know, I could have cut her off when she mentioned the Ivy, but listening to my little girl speak like that at the age of 12 was completely disarming and wholly unforgettable. I looked over at you to see where you were at on it. You were smiling before I could turn my head. You had pulled up a chair a while ago and sat with your morning coffee. The look of pride on your face said it all. To think back, 12 years ago, after so many doctors told us to give up trying to conceive because you’re high risk, after all of the times we had every reason to believe them, who knew we would come out with this?

“Dad?” Eliza looked at me.

“Shook,” I said in amazement, “when did you learn all of this?”

“Well, when everybody was in recess at school playing games and talking, I was sort of reading your books, Dad. I’ve read every one of them. More than once. I took them from your office. Please don’t be mad!” she begged.

“What? My love, I’m not mad at all,” I reassured her, “I would never be mad at you going to these kinds of lengths to grow wiser. This makes me so happy, Eliza. How much I love you cannot be measured but by God, and there is a grander beauty in you that lights up this very room! Eliza, please listen, you have single-handedly shown me more here by saying everything you’ve said, more than I could have ever imagined, and I couldn’t have asked for a better daughter to make me feel the way I do in this very moment. Eliza, I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Now,” her smile made her glow, “Turn the page.”

As Eliza turned the page, a blank envelope pushed its way out, standing upright in the fold of the book. Curious as to the contents, Eliza looked over at you and I. You looked at me, and I gave Eliza a nod to proceed. She carefully opened the envelope, reached inside and pulled out a check. Made to the order of: Eliza Jennings, in the amount of Twenty Thousand Dollars And Zero Cents.