Salvation

“It certainly does.”

“So what are you waiting for?”

—

The alarm woke Cal, a vile, insistent buzz coming from the antique digital clock with numbers that glowed scarlet in the gloomy bedroom. He reached for it. But of course it sat on a neat stack of plastic storage boxes half a meter from where his fingers stretched to. “Bastard!” He had to scramble to the edge of the mattress and swing his legs out from under the heavy duvet before he could reach the cube of black plastic.

In the silence that followed he shook his head, trying to wake up properly. An ex had set up the beyond-reach trick. Savi had thought it was a great idea, so he’d claimed it was all his own. Wives—so touchy about old girlfriends.

He looked around at the empty bed and sighed. Five days without her now. There’d been no call, not even an email. How is some bunch of dickhead students going to notice anything wrong with a two-minute call? Do they all live together in a cult compound or something? That wasn’t a thought he wanted to explore.

The alarm started off again. He’d only hit the snooze button before. Cursing, he switched it off properly and headed for the shower.

His flat was on the top floor of a grand old Georgian terrace house in Moray Place, one of the best addresses in Edinburgh, so the estate agent swore: a small, beautiful park of ancient trees, circled by the New Town stone architecture the city was renowned for. That was why the flat was only four rooms, and even on his salary paying the rent was a stretch. But as a bachelor pad it was a classic.

Maybe too much of a classic, he thought as he went back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair still damp. He’d spent serious money on the king-size bed. But that was where the extravagance had to end. His clothes were all supposed to be put away in the three towers of plastic boxes along one wall, but mostly they were dumped on the washing pile in the corner. The Barbuda break had messed up his laundry service routine. It also seemed to have messed up his shopping program.

“House,” he yelled.

The wallscreen lit up with the G3Turing’s house utilities menu—two years since he’d installed it, and he still hadn’t gotten around to customizing the cheap, obsolete unit. “Good morning, Callum,” it said in a sharp female voice. He hadn’t changed that from the factory setting, either.

“Why are we out of shampoo? I had to use the shower glass cleaner on my hair. It smells weird.”

“Your household items replacement order has been placed on hold.”

“What? Why?”

“You are now over your preapproved monthly credit limit by three and a half thousand pounds. The credit company has suspended all future account payments until this is resolved.”

“Shit! How did that happen?”

“The last large payment was to the Drexon International Leisure Group for five thousand eight hundred and ninety pounds, which put you over the specified limit. Your credit company suspended the account at midnight and is now charging you double interest on the excess amount.”

“Bloody hell.” He hadn’t realized Barbuda had been quite that expensive. Worth it, though. She married me! He gave the empty mattress a forlorn look. Five days, and it’s already unbearable without her.

He started going through what was supposed to be the underwear box. There was only one clean pair of boxer shorts left. “House, why didn’t you warn me I was maxed out?”

“You have told me to be silent six times in the last four days when I asked your permission to review your current financial status.”

“Oh, yeah, right. You should have told me it was about the current account.”

“I did. The credit company has issued five statutory warnings.”

“Okay. Uh, next time just throw the debt figure up on all the wallscreens in red. I’ll catch it properly, then.”

“Very well.”

Callum could have sworn the G3Turing’s voice sounded disapproving.

He found a fresh shirt and started putting it on. “Is there any breakfast in the kitchen?”

“There is some printed bacon available. Eight containers of natural food currently need to be removed from the fridge for recycling. All have passed their use-by date. A new food and beer delivery is pending resumption of credit.”

“Yes, mother,” he grumbled under his breath. “So resume it.”

“You will first have to agree to a new overpayment charge with the credit company.”

“Right. Look, just sort the thing out, okay? I get paid in a couple of days anyway.”

“Your next salary payment is in six days.”

“Whatever. Get my credit flowing again.”

“The new extension terms they are offering are not favorable.”