Await Further Orders

The package was tucked behind the rocking chair on my front porch. It was about 10 inches square, the familiar flying sandal logo of the Mercury Corporation emblazoned on the side. I gave it a shove with my cane.

I hadn’t ordered anything. I don’t even have a membership with Mercury – don’t hold with their company policies and environmental impact. But my name was on the shipping label, so it must be for me. Probably something from the kids – I lose track of the dates, but Father’s Day must be sometime about now. I bent down, my back creaking in protest.

It didn’t weigh much, and when I used my pocket knife to slit it open it was mostly full of brown paper. A small electronic device was nestled inside, with instructions to set it up. Some rubbish about Wi-Fi and broadband – reeked of government surveillance if you ask me. I barely have electricity, doubt there’d be a signal even if I wanted internet in my home.

I tossed it in the hallway closet and forgot about it. There were fences to mend and hooves to trim, no time for mucking around with new-fangled gadgets. I listened to the truck radio as I checked the perimeter, stopping here and there to nail back an old board. The air was thick and humid, most of my cattle laying down by the creek or standing under the shady sweet gum trees, their tails lazily flicking away the flies.

The news broke into one of my favorite songs, Hurt – the Johnny Cash version. Some woman bleating on about how generous Mercury were to send every customer a free thingamajig to boost their internet signal and run their homes more smoothly. So that’s what it was – a promotional doodad of no use whatsoever. I made a mental note to shove it in the recycling bin when I got home.

The following week was busy – mowing the south fields to dry hay for the winter, and tarring the barn roof where a few leaks had appeared. I didn’t head into town for supplies till late on Friday - figured I’d stop in at the diner for a slice of Mary-Sue’s famous apple pie, treat myself.

I couldn’t get the radio to work properly in the truck, darn thing’s been all screwy recently. Ended up listening to an old Billy Joel tape that’s probably been stuck in the player since I bought the truck.

Pulling into the Tractor supply shop there was a ‘back in 15 minutes’ sign hanging in the window. I parked out front and moseyed on in, getting the new bolt cutters and work gloves I needed, and feed sacks. I went behind the counter and wrote my purchases in the ledger for Bill to ring up when he got back. We’ve been doing business together these forty years, Bill and I – he knows my credit’s good.

Back on the road and I was beginning to notice the quiet. Town’s never exactly bustling, but I hadn’t passed another car since I left the farm. Not so much as a combine harvester. Strange. Must be some kind of event on, I lose track of these things, but on Friday nights sometimes they do a movie show down at the park. Most probably everyone was there.

Mary-Sue’s was closed up. No lights on or nothing. Not like her to close up. I peered inside and couldn’t see anything in the glass cabinet, so she mustn’t have baked in several days. I walked on round the back, and sure enough her car was there, next to the dumpster. I banged on the door to her apartment, and I could hear her inside talking to someone.

“What should I do? There’s someone at the door!”

“I’m sorry, Mary-Sue. I did not understand that. Please repeat it.”

“Someone is knocking on my door! Do I answer it?” She sounded frightened.

“Negative, Mary-Sue. Please remain where you are and await further orders.”

I tried hollering that it was only me, her old pal, Frankie Horrowitz. She didn’t answer, though I could hear her moving around inside. I thought about breaking the door down, but something was off. The other voice in there with her – it didn’t exactly sound human.

I drove on over to Magda’s – if anyone was going to know what was what it’d be her – she was always a gossip, even in high school. We dated a while, a lifetime ago, before she married Curtis. Shoulda really checked up on her more often since he died… I let the farm take over sometimes, forget about all that hinky friendship stuff.

Magda’s place was way out on the far side of town, past the graveyard and the old Mill. The grass was kinda long in the front, maybe I should offer to trim it for her. Can’t be easy keeping up with their property on her own. Curtis’s black Cadillac was out front, man we’d had some rare times in that old gal - double dates at the County fair before we all settled down and drifted apart. They tell you to enjoy your youth while you can, but nobody ever realizes how lonely growing old can get. I’ve seen at least a dozen of our graduating class go on their final drive into the graveyard gates over the years. Likely be my time soon enough.

Not yet, though. I walked up the path to Magda’s front stoop, knocking on the door when the bell didn’t work. I waited a few minutes then tried again.

Suddenly there was a click behind me. I froze, the way you do when someone sticks a shotgun barrel against your spine.

“Turn around slowly, hands where I can see ‘em!” Her voice still had that sultry growl, the pay off for a lifetime of whiskey and smoking.

“Magda, you scared the bejesus outta me, woman!” I turned around, smiling.

She didn’t look amused. “Frankie? You’re still you, right? Not gonna jump me or any nonsense?”

“What are you on about? Of course I’m me! Ain’t you known me these forty years gone? Jeez woman, lighten up!”

She relaxed a bit, lowering the gun, though she still kept looking around as though someone might jump out of the azaleas at any moment.

“Best come inside, Frankie. There’s some mighty strange happenings around these parts, that’s what.”

I followed her through the hallway and into her cozy kitchen, the warm pine cabinets decorated with handsewn, red gingham hearts. She bolted the door behind us.

“Are you on your own, Frankie? Didn’t see anyone else on your way?”

I frowned. “Well, I stopped by Mary-Sue’s for dinner, but it was closed up. She didn’t answer the door so I came over here to see if you knew what’s what.”

“I don’t know much, that’s for sure.” She poured us both a glass of sweet tea from the pitcher in her fridge. “All I do know is it started with them packages from Mercury.”

I remembered the box I’d tossed in my closet. “What, those electronic thingies? I got one in the mail, must be a week since. Didn’t know what it was for…”

She pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down.

“I don’t get Wi-fi out here, so I didn’t bother with mine when it came. But down at the diner everyone was raving about them! Seems they could do everything but cook you dinner – play your favorite song, tell you the weather or answer any question at all. Incredible, really. I was half-tempted to get the internet myself just to see what it was all about. That was last Thursday.”

Her hair might be gray now, but her eyes were the same hazel that sent me giddy back in 10th grade.

“By Friday the town felt… wrong. Normally the diner is packed out, but there were only three cars out front. The grocery store was quiet, too. Seemed like everyone had taken off for the weekend or something. And by Monday there was nobody in the streets at all. No movement – no kids waiting for school busses, no traffic jam out on route 42… it was eerie.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see anyone the whole way over here. Thought it was queer enough.”

“Well, I tried phoning Barb and Cathy, they didn’t answer. I went by their houses and they were in, for sure. Heard them talking to… something. But no answer.”

“Yeah, that was what happened at the Diner – Mary-Sue was talking to some robot voiced thing.”

“Right. Well I was getting scurred, so I called the Sherriff’s office. Played the frail old lady, said something was happening and could they investigate. Sherriff Mayhew said he’d send someone by to check on me soon.” She fumbled in her pockets for her lighter, grabbing a cigarette from the packet with shaky hands. “I don’t normally smoke indoors, but I’m scared to go out, in case they see me.”

“They?” I was confused.

“Everyone. They’re all changed, Frankie. Everyone we know. I thought… I thought I was the only one left.” Her eyes were watery, and she brushed at them with the back of her hand. I’ve always admired how gutsy she is.

“Changed how? What did Mayhew have to say?”

She took a long drag on her cigarette and let it out in a big plume. “He showed up with two deputies and a guy in a Mercury truck - you know, those grey vans with the flying sandal logo on the side. Anyhow, he comes in my house and he’s talking so oddly – formal, like he never kissed me under the mistletoe at the Ceilidh back in ’76! Like he didn’t even know me.”

“Christ.” I was beginning to think I needed something stronger than sweet tea.

“He came in and swept my house looking for something. I asked what he was doing and he was almost rude – demanding where my ‘roota’ was. I told him I never had one, and he ushered the guys from the van into my house, cool as you please! Not a word about what they were doing.” She got up, and pulled a cardboard box out from the cupboard under the sink. “They were putting in these internet thingies. Connected up the box and gave me another of those devices we got in the mail. Set it up so it knew my name. They turned it on and it says “Hello, Magda. I am your friendly assistant. I’m here to make life easier for you. Please sit down and we can get to know one another.”

“Creepy! What did you do?”

“I smiled and thanked the Sherriff and the men, and sat down. And… I turned off my hearing aids.”

“Smart thinking! You always were quick like that.” I looked at the pile of electronics and wiring in the box. “I don’t much like the looks of this stuff… feels like some kind of brain washing thing they warned us the Commies would try.”

“Yeah. As soon as they left I unplugged it all. It was talking at me the whole time, but it was just buzzing without my aids.”

We sat in silence a few minutes, both wondering what to do next. Finally, I got up. “Here’s what we’ll do – drive up to the outlying farms. Chances are we aren’t the only old coots without internet. Maybe there’s others out there. Then we’ll head back to my farm – no, don’t argue. I know you’d rather stay here, but my place is better protected and besides, the animals need care. And then… I guess we’ll have to figure a way to unplug the whole town. See if we can’t undo whatever is going on here.”

Magda smiled and gave me a hug. “I’m sure glad you’re here with me, Frankie. I feel better already.” She scooped up her shotgun and grabbed an extra box of cartridges from a kitchen drawer. “Let’s go kick some robot ass.”