Chapter 6 – The Office
“What do we do?” asked Jessica. She had grown tense in her seat. She was still as she faced Brian, but she seemed ready to sprint for the door.
Brian stayed where he was, his eyes on the cup in his hand, his cool, presiding demeanor on the verge of panic.
“Brian,” said Vincent – he thought he could hear voices outside.
“I’m thinking.”
Brian didn’t look at him as he said it. He was looking across the Main at the front door, sporadically drawing his eyes close together to focus on his Lenses.
There were definitely voices now.
“Brian,” prompted Vincent. “What do we do?”
Brian looked up at them, then at the door across the room. “Hide,” he said. He sat his cup down on the counter and started for the stairs. “Hurry!”
“The cups,” said Jessica, as she stood. “What should we–”
“Bring them!” hissed Brian.
Jessica snatched up her cup and Vincent did the same. They started after Brian in unison, jogging with lightened footsteps toward the stairs.
“In,” said Brian, when they were at the door. “They’re almost–”
To their right, there was a soft, familiar beep as the retinal scanner outside prepared to unlock.
“Upstairs!” Brian slammed a palm against the wall next to the door, and the door slid to the side. “Third story.”
Behind them, the locks of the main door clicked free. Brian grabbed Jessica by the wrist and pulled her toward the stairs. Vincent lunged after her. The main door slid open behind them–
The dome went black. Vincent froze, held immobile by the darkness. He felt a hand on his arm.
“Go.”
It was Brian. Guided by the boy’s touch, Vincent found his way through the opening. He nearly tripped over the first stair.
There was a sliding sound behind him – like the seal being closed on a jet of air – then the darkness was lifted. Jessica was standing there with him, her eyes wide, her pupils dilated.
“Brian?”
The voice was muffled – it was coming from the other side of the door.
“What did you just do?”
“Sorry,” said Brian. By the relatively clear sound of his voice, he must have been standing just outside. “I just meant to close the door behind me. I didn’t mean to get the lights as well.”
The other speaker stayed silent for a beat. “Clumsy of you,” it said after a pause. Vincent could hear the voice better now. It sounded like a woman’s.
“Sorry, Mother,” said Brian.
Vincent and Jessica exchanged a look. Neither of them started up the stairs.
“Don’t be silly,” said Brian’s mother. “I don’t blame you for trying to hide from Marcus. Everyone hides from him.”
The man named Marcus apparently chose to ignore the jibe. “Good to see you again, Brian,” he said.
The voice was muffled, but Vincent knew he had heard it before.
“It’s quite late, Brian.” It was Brian’s mother again. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Brian returned without hesitation. “I…I was thinking about today.”
They could hear the sound of Brian’s mother clicking her tongue sympathetically. Vincent imagined her head tilting to the side, affectionate. For some reason, though, the image seemed out of place.
“Of course you were,” she said. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get back in bed. I’ll be up there in a little while. Marcus and I have some important things to talk about.”
There was a pause, perhaps just long enough for Brian to nod, then more footsteps – Brian was starting for the stairwell door.
Up.
The word appeared on the bottom rim of Vincent’s Lenses. And by the way Jessica’s eyes darted downward toward the bridge of her nose, it had appeared on hers too.
“We need to move,” hissed Vincent. He grabbed Jessica by the hand and started to climb. They had to get out of sight before Brian opened the door. Their legs would remain in view of the Main for several more seconds.
“Mother?”
Brian’s voice was right outside; his hand must be hovering over the button.
“Goodnight,” he said.
The soft but frantic thuds of Vincent and Jessica’s footsteps muffled the reply. The door slid open behind them just as they reached the top of the flight. When Brian stepped through and the door closed after him, he was composed again.
“I thought you’d be eavesdropping,” he whispered, seeing the quickened rise and fall of Vincent’s shoulders. “They almost saw you.”
“Why would it matter?” said Jessica. “I thought you said your mother was part of the Order.”
“I already told you,” said Brian. “It wouldn’t matter if my mom saw you, but she’s not alone. You heard Marcus.”
Jessica said nothing back, but Vincent could tell she was far from convinced.
“Marcus is Newsight’s Head of the Privacy,” continued Brian, starting to climb. “If he’s here, the Privacy Officers will have finished the raids. It’s safer now, but you’ll still have to lie low for a while.”
Vincent thought back to the men in gray jumpsuits who had stormed through their dome – Privacy Officers, Brian had called them – and to the frail man who had led them there. That same man, Vincent was almost certain, was now only a story below them, with Brian’s mother.
“How long is a while?” said Jessica.
Brian shrugged his shoulders. “You’ll be safe for a while,” he said. He pushed past them and into the open room beyond the mouth of the staircase. It was predictably round, with a handful of doors to line its perimeter. The frosted glass they had seen from the Main served as the room’s floor. Vincent took a cautious step onto it.
“Don’t follow me,” said Brian over his shoulder. He pointed at the glass beneath his feet. “They’ll see the shadow. Anyway, you’re going to the next story.” He flicked a lazy hand toward the bend at Vincent and Jessica’s backs where, around the corner, was another flight of stairs.
“Aren’t you going to show us where to go?” asked Jessica. She leaned forward and chanced a look through the opaque flooring as she spoke.
“Then they won’t see the shadow,” said Brian. “My shadow.” He came to a stop in front of a door on the far side of the room and turned to them. “And I won’t be able to talk. I’m not allowed to go to bed with my Lenses turned on.”
“You can turn them off?” asked Vincent, surprised.
“It’s another perk.” Brian grinned at them. “You’re looking for the second door on the next floor.” He pressed a button next to his own door and the thing slid open. “Mom takes other managers upstairs sometimes, but they never go to that room. I think it’s where she hides THE SIM.”
“Think?” asked Vincent. “Do you not know?”
Brian shook his head. “She re-hid it after I found it the first time,” he said. “But if I had to guess, I would look there. If you’re serious about all this, you’ll need to watch it.” He nodded to them, another indiscernible look, then the door had slid shut once again, this time with Brian on the other side.
“Vincent I don’t like this.” Jessica had pulled her gaze from the frosted floor just long enough to shoot Brian’s closed door a furrowed look of disapproval. “I don’t trust him.”
Vincent joined her gaze. “I don’t think I do either,” he said. “But we really don’t have a choice.”
“Maybe we do,” said Jessica. “We could always just–”
The pressurized breath sounded from down the stairs, and Vincent dodged around the corner, pulling Jessica with him. Down the flight behind them, he could hear two sets of footsteps.
“…yes I understand that.” It was Brian’s mother. “And I completely agree. However, the–”
Let’s go! mouthed Vincent. He pulled Jessica up the second set of stairs behind them on instinct. Jessica’s mouth remained open
from her previous sentence as they began tiptoeing up the steps.
“I see your point,” said Marcus. “But their effect has been negated. Fatrem foresaw that long ago.”
Vincent stared straight down at the steps as he climbed, gingerly, next to Jessica, but his ears were focused a flight below.
“Let’s hope so,” said Brian’s mother. “If not, none of this will have been worth the trouble.”
The man grunted in response, and the pair of them started to climb. Vincent was so intent on listening for the next thread of conversation he nearly ran full-on to the door just ahead.
“Vincent!” Jessica hissed at him as she pulled him back. She reached out and pressed the button. Vincent cringed when the door slid open with its telltale pressurized breath.
“It will be worth it.”
The man’s voice masked the sound almost perfectly.
“There’s no need to worry.”
Jessica allowed herself a soft sigh of relief before stepping through the open door. Vincent followed close behind. They were standing in a hallway of sorts, only this one didn’t run straight forward and back like those in the school, but at a curve, as if slithering around the outskirts of the two stories below like a constrictor.
“I still think–”
Jessica timed her pressing of the button once again.
“Hurry!” she whispered, and she took the lead this time. The floor was solid here, unlike the frosted glass of the room below. The walls on either side of them were stark white and curved at their tops so they touched together overhead like a smooth-ceilinged tunnel.
“Second door,” said Jessica. She was scanning both walls as they walked, but there was scarcely a seam in either. Vincent cast a glance behind them. They were still in view of the staircase.
“There’s one!” said Jessica, pointing ahead to an arch-shaped door on their left. “Come on.” She tugged on Vincent’s arm harder still. Vincent glanced behind them at the door to the stairs. The walls of the hallway seemed to expand in preparation for one final breath. Marcus and Brian’s mother had to be getting close.
“There!”
Jessica spotted the second door and started for it, abandoning what little remained of their pretense for silence. Vincent hurried after her. He cast the stairs yet another look as Jessica pressed the second door’s button. The panel slid open without hesitation, and Jessica was through. As Vincent started for it, Jessica pressed the button on the door’s interior. He was just stepping inside when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye where the staircase was, and the door slid shut behind him.
Jessica leaned back against the wall next to them. Her shoulders were practically vibrating as they rose and fell from her rapid, shallow breaths.
“Can you hear them?” she whispered.
Vincent held a finger to his lips. Struggling to keep his breathing soft, he pressed his right ear against the door.
“How many total were raided?”
By the sound of Brian’s mother’s voice, they hadn’t made it far down the hall – they were still some ways off.
“Almost a dozen,” said Marcus. “Some of them were employees but most were Senators.”
Vincent tensed at this. And so did Jessica – she had pressed her ear up against the door as well.
“And that’s all of them?” said Brian’s mother. “All you detected?”
“There are certainly more. But none who can do any damage.”
There was nothing but footsteps for a while, the soft thuds of which were growing far too near for Vincent’s liking.
“Here?” said Marcus.
Vincent and Jessica leaned away from the door in the same movement. They no longer had to strain to hear the man’s voice – it was coming from right outside.
“No,” said Brian’s mother, and Vincent relaxed. “Keep going.”
The footsteps resumed, this time carrying their owners farther away down the hall. When they had faded sufficiently, Vincent let out a breath.
“I thought he set us up,” said Jessica.
Vincent thought of Brian’s unreadable expression outside the door of his bedroom. “Maybe he still has.”
Jessica bit down on the insides of her cheeks, frowning. “Do you think he was telling the truth about THE SIM?”
“Maybe,” said Vincent. “Only one way to find out.”
He turned around. The room was a small one, and it was unlike anything he had seen before. The walls were curved like those in the Main, but they weren’t white, instead a pale crimson. The floor was different as well, wooden panels fitted tightly against their neighbors, grained and patterned in ways Vincent had never seen. Sitting atop this surface in the room’s center was a desk as long as Vincent was tall, sturdy-looking and ornate, fashioned from the same rich material of the floor and carved into handle-like curves at its corners. There was a single, equally impressive chair behind it, presiding over the few items on the desk’s surface with stoic authority. Behind the desk was a kind of break in the wall where the pale red gave way to ceiling-height shelves of the same bound stacks of paper Vincent had seen on Jessica’s dining room table.
“They have books,” said Jessica, in awe.
Vincent mouthed the word. Books. They had been covered only briefly in the simulations, and, if Vincent remembered correctly, they had appeared only as an accident. The sims hardly ever showed anything outside of the Seclusion.
Jessica stepped forward across the floor, unflinching in spite of the creaking that followed her, and sat her cup of water on a stack of papers. She ran her right index finger across the surface of the desk, dragging a line of dust along behind her, until she had circled to the other side. She stood next to the chair – which came nearly to her shoulders – and stared up at the rows of books.
“What do you think they’re all about?” she asked.
Vincent stepped forward as well – sitting his cup down next to hers – but he said nothing. He wasn’t sure how to answer the question. He didn’t have the faintest idea books were about anything.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But that’s not what we’re here for. Do you know what a hard sim looks like?”
Begrudgingly, Jessica pulled her gaze from the bookshelf. “My dad used to have some,” she said. “They’re usually in little discs. They’re just bits of film that lie over your Lenses.” She watched as Vincent sat down in the oversized chair behind the desk. “You think it’s in there?”
Vincent had already started to go through the drawers. “Maybe,” he said. “Or if it’s small, it could even be in one of those things.” He looked up at the books. “But I doubt anyone would–”
“I’ll check,” said Jessica. “Just in case.” Eager, she turned back to the shelf and knelt down. She began pulling the books from their perches and examining each one.
Vincent kept his attention on the ornate sliding drawers in front of him. The desk’s surface held nothing of interest, only stray slips of paper and a cup filled with slender sticks with points on one end. He pulled each drawer out with no resistance, no locks, and rifled through the contents. He found much the same as what was on top of the desk, occasionally stabbing himself with one of the pointed sticks. He ran through all eight or so of the drawers without finding anything interesting. He stood from his crouching position and glanced over his shoulder. Jessica was still searching, but she was only on the second shelf – each book she pulled out seemed to fall open at the spine almost immediately, and she would scan the first few lines.
Sighing, Vincent turned back to the desk. It wasn’t out of the question that Brian had lied to them, that his mother and Marcus would be in to report them at any moment. It also wasn’t out of the question – though perhaps it was much closer to being so – that Brian had been telling the truth.
Sighing a second time, Vincent squatted down so his eyes were level with the surface of the desk. He scanned the underside of it, but his eyes were useless in the dark. Turning to the side, he reac
hed out his arm and felt blindly along the wood. He ran his fingers along the side of the first drawer, over a small protrusion…
There was a flash to the left, and the far wall was no longer a faded crimson. Jessica looked up from her current book, her muscles tense. The wall had transformed into something like the massless screen in the classroom simulation. Its surface had been divided into a series of squares made up of what looked like miniature video feeds.
“What did you just do?” said Jessica. Her most recent book lay forgotten in her lap.
“I don’t know,” said Vincent. He stood and took a step closer to the wall. He half-expected the video feeds to disappear, but they remained, as clear as ever. “It’s…the dome.”
Jessica had followed him over. She was staring at the very middle square. The feed there was of the Main. The stripped clean kitchen and frosted glass ceiling were exactly as Vincent remembered.
The other squares contained feeds as well, all different. One above eye level near the upper right showed Brian’s bedroom. Brian was in his bed, on his back under the covers, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Another square showed a room much like the one they were in currently, only without the bookshelf and ornate brown desk. It was a more Seclusion appropriate version of what an office was supposed to look like: undecorated, with a simple desk and single chair, both rounded at the corners, both white. The people inside it, too, Brian’s mother in her snow-colored jumpsuit and Marcus in his ashen gray one, matched their surroundings in a way Vincent couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“They’re talking,” said Jessica. “Look.”
Vincent leaned closer, and he could see Marcus’s mouth moving. There was no sound to accompany it.
“Is there volume?”
“I don’t think so,” said Vincent. He had felt nothing but the small button he had found on accident.
“Maybe if we…”
Jessica stepped closer and raised her hand toward the feed. Vincent reached out to stop her, but he was too slow. She had already tapped the surface of the wall where Brian’s mother and Marcus were pictured. As soon as her fingers made contact, the feed expanded to the full size of the wall, crowding the others around it from view. As it grew, so too did the volume. Marcus was still speaking.
“…and before you say it, yes, they’re just children,” he said. “But I would prefer not to take any chances, no matter how small.”
Brian’s mother nodded, slowly, as she lowered herself down into the chair behind the small round desk. Even sitting, she was quite tall. Her hands were interlocked under her pointed chin for support. Her eyes were steady and unrevealing. “I understand,” she said. “I just don’t want you to lose sight of the larger picture.”
“I’m not,” said Marcus. “But I’m not going to lose sight of the smaller ones, either.”
Brian’s mother nodded once again, unreadable.
“What are we watching?” asked Jessica. Her voice was nearly a whisper, as if the people in the feed might overhear them. “Do you think Brian wanted us to find this?”
Vincent shrugged “Maybe. Or maybe he didn’t know about it. Whatever it even is.”
Jessica turned back to the feed, still frowning. Brian’s mother was about to speak.
“Were those two the only ones who gave you any trouble?”
“There were some other struggles,” said Marcus. “But nothing major. The Senator’s and the developer’s kids were the only ones to escape.”
Vincent and Jessica gave one another a look.
“And escape is far from the right word,” continued Marcus. “If you would have just let my men–”
“Enough.” Brian’s mother remained sitting, but her voice had risen. Marcus seemed to shrink slightly. “I’ve already told you. That order came from above me. I had nothing to do with it.” She paused here, ensuring Marcus wasn’t going to interrupt. “Besides,” she continued, “the order has since been rescinded. You’re free to do as you wish.”
Marcus perked up at this. Brian’s mother noticed.
“But that should not distract you from your other duties.”
“No, ma’am,” said Marcus. His tone was flat, unconvincing. “My other obligations are few, anyway.”
“The detainees?”
“I’ve delegated.”
“Even the priority ones?”
“They require little effort.”
“Ah.” Brian’s mother paused here. A patronizing edge had begun to creep into her tone. “The assignments mandated by Fatrem himself require little effort. I may have guessed.”
Marcus shifted where he stood. His discomfort was evident. “I did not say they are not important. I simply mean there is little I can do at the moment.”
“And there is no preparation to be done?” prompted Brian’s mother. “The first announcement is due to be made in the morning.”
“I am aware of the timeline, Lynn.” Marcus didn’t shrink away from her this time. “Fatrem has trusted me with this matter, and I would expect you to do the same.”
If possible, Brian’s mother, Lynn, Marcus had called her, grew even straighter in her seat. “I do,” she said. “But there can be no mistakes. If Smith is to take the fall for the ID hack, you need to be convincing.”
“I will be,” snapped Marcus. “But I’ll need more leverage eventually. If not for Smith, then for the developer.”
“Enough about the children,” Lynn shot back. “We have Smith’s wife. She’s enough leverage for now. And the developer we won’t need for long.”
Marcus grunted in response. “I had my men check for the children’s whereabouts before I met with you,” he said. Lynn seemed prepped to interrupt – “Not to pursue them,” rushed Marcus. “Just to monitor.” He paused for a second, but Lynn remained quiet. “They were off the grid. Do you know what that means?”
Lynn raised her eyebrows, feigning interest. “They’re dead?”
“They’re in the first ring,” said Marcus, ignoring the sarcasm. “In the management sector. They must have been told of the dead zones.”
If Vincent wasn’t mistaken, he could see a glint of suspicion in Marcus’s gaze. Lynn snorted.
“And whoever could have told them that?” she mocked. “It couldn’t have been the girl’s father. The one who’s been digging through the software for years. The one who knows nearly as much as management.”
Marcus adjusted his posture so his chin was tilted upward. Vincent got the impression that, beneath the composed exterior, the man was bristling.
“I’m sure that’s who it was,” he said. They stayed like that for a moment, Marcus with his penetrating, unblinking gaze, Lynn with her own, icy stare back. “Is there anything else?”
Lynn smiled a forced looking grin. “Perhaps not.” She stood from her seat and motioned to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”
They both started out of the frame, and Jessica tapped on the feed once again. It shrank to its previous size, and the volume went mute. Vincent turned to her, a bit annoyed, but when he saw her face, he stayed silent. Her eyes were facing the floor; her jaw hung loosely from its hinge so her lips were just barely apart.
“They have our parents,” she said.
“They could have been talking about someone else,” said Vincent.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Jessica. “Your parents are important to them.” She looked up at him. Her eyes were beginning to swell with tears. “My dad isn’t.”
Vincent started to say something back, but he stopped. He couldn’t think of a lie that would be convincing enough. Lynn’s words had been clear.
Jessica looked away from him once again.
“Jessica you don’t know…”
Vincent trailed off mid-sentence when he heard the footsteps outside. He froze where he was; even Jessica went silent. The footsteps were growing louder, closer to the door – but they didn’t linger outside as they had the first time. They passed by without hesitation, keeping on down the hall until their sounds began
to fade once more.
“We can’t think about that,” said Vincent. His voice was softer now. “We won’t be able to do anything. Not yet. We’ll ask Brian’s mom after Marcus leaves. She might know where Newsight is keeping them.”
“You really trust that woman?” Jessica was looking at the portion of the wall where Lynn had just been pictured. Vincent followed her gaze.
“Yeah,” he said. “I do.” It wasn’t true, of course. He trusted Lynn no more than he trusted Brian, and that was a particularly low threshold.
“I don’t know, Vincent,” said Jessica. “It doesn’t seem right. Marcus already knows we’re somewhere in the first ring.”
“But we know exactly where he is!” Vincent pointed to the checkerboard of video feeds. Marcus and Lynn had just walked into the square of the Main. “We’re ahead of them,” continued Vincent. “We might not even need to talk to Lynn. Look,” he pointed to the feed, “they’re talking again. They might be saying something about our parents.”
Jessica still looked unconvinced, but the mention of her father seemed to inject some resolve back into her. She tapped the feed before Vincent could.
“It’s a pleasure as always,” Lynn was saying. They were just outside of the stairwell, about to start for the main door. “Is there anything else I can do for you before you leave?” Something about her tone seemed to push Marcus toward the door, but he stayed where he was, his eyes roaming the Main with deliberate care.
“I won’t keep you.” He stayed still as he said it, making no move to leave. “Brian seems to need your attention.” He glanced at the cup, still half full, sitting on the kitchen counter. “He was up awfully late.”
Lynn sighed. Vincent couldn’t tell if she was actually concerned. “He had a traumatizing day.”
Marcus nodded in agreement. He still didn’t start for the door. “You’re aware of the Lenses’ new capabilities I assume?”
Lynn raised her eyebrows, caught off guard. “I should think so. I helped design them.”
Marcus nodded, unfazed. “Then you’ll know of their ability to record everything they see. We can’t hold the footage indefinitely, but we can go back several hours. Relive conversations.”
Lynn crossed her arms. She rose to her full height, which was a centimeter or two taller than Marcus. “I don’t recall requesting a lecture on the work of my own department.”
Marcus smirked at her. “When I checked on the whereabouts of the children, I rewound their Lenses. They had an interesting conversation about your son. And you.”
“Is that so?” said Lynn. She wasn’t playing along.
“It is.” Marcus was prodding with his words, pushing and poking. He seemed to be in his element. “And before they entered the first ring, they kept looking at this dome.” Marcus looked around them, surveying the empty-walled space with scrutinizing eyes.
“What are you implying, Marcus?”
Marcus smirked again. “Nothing at all,” he said. “But you’ll understand my hesitance to leave without giving your dome a more thorough search.”
“A search?” repeated Lynn. “I think you’re forgetting where you are.”
“Oh no,” said Marcus. “My memory is quite good. And it stretches back far enough to know you have a history.”
“By association,” snapped Lynn. “He ran off on his own. Brian and I have nothing to do with him.” She glanced around them, where Marcus’s eyes had just been roaming. “You don’t have authority here.”
Marcus tilted his head and pressed his lips tighter together. “I’m afraid I do,” he said. “My job is to monitor privacy. And for some reason, you seem to have quite a lot of it.”
“I’m a manager,” said Lynn. She pulled her arms tighter around her stomach, as if to hold herself together. “Fatrem trusts me. Why else would he have given me the privacy he has?”
Marcus grinned, mocking. “Perhaps he does trust you. But trust is temporary.” His eyes lost focus for a moment, flitting in toward his nose, then to the side. “And so is privacy.”
Behind them, the main door of the dome exploded inward. A stream of gray-clad Privacy Officers came pouring through. Lynn didn’t blink.
“As you wish.” She turned to the men invading her dome. Her voice was steady. “Search,” she said. “Everywhere.”