******
Vincent exited his module at the end of the day feeling restless. The simulations had been just as boring – if not more so – than the day before, but that wasn’t all. The mood of the day was contagious. He felt an odd urge to run and jump, and at the same time, to lie down and do nothing at all. The modules, he felt quite certain, did not provide the outlet for these urges he was looking for.
“Hi, Ben.”
Vincent turned around. It was Annie. She was among the first of the crowd exiting their modules for the evening.
“Hi,” he said. He looked over her shoulder for Jessica but saw only the crowd.
“Have you thought anymore about my invitation?” she asked. Her voice sounded different. It wasn’t as high pitched and rapid. It had grown just a touch deeper, maybe not even that, but warmer, and the pace of it had slowed, much like the way she had sat down in front of him that morning.
“What invitation?” said Vincent.
“About the sims,” said Annie. She was standing a few centimeters closer to him than normal. “This weekend,” she said. “I asked if you wanted to share one.”
“Share?” repeated Vincent. Annie nodded her head, slowly. “Uh…” He glanced over her shoulder once again. “When?” he asked.
“Tomorrow,” said Annie. “Night.”
A hot, prickly sensation lit the skin of Vincent’s face. The restless feeling that had been increasing its hold on him since the morning had been amplified.
“Ok,” he said. It didn’t feel like his voice that answered, but he let it keep talking. “I’ll share with you.”
Annie smiled at him. “Good,” she said. “I’ll message you.” She smiled again, then brushed past him, grazing her shoulder against his arm as she went.
“Ben?”
Vincent turned around, expecting – hoping, even – for Annie again.
“Have you finished your modules?”
Vincent sagged at the shoulders. It was Mr. Watts.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
“Good,” said Mr. Watts. “Because I have good news. My associate at Newsight has agreed to give you a tour.”
It took Vincent a moment to realize what the man was talking about. “Of the headquarters?” Mr. Watts nodded. “Oh,” said Vincent. “Thank you. I’m sorry yesterday for–”
Mr. Watts held up a hand. “Not at all,” he said. “I’m just glad someone else recognizes the value of real learning.” He cast the door of the module room a disdainful look. “Where is your sister?”
Vincent turned back around toward Jessica’s modules. He scanned the dwindling crowd for a moment before spotting her. She was several doors away, talking to a boy Vincent didn’t recognize.
“She just finished her modules as well,” said Vincent, turning back to Mr. Watts. “I’ll bring her here.”
“No need. I’ve already called a transport. You can meet it out front.”
“Oh,” said Vincent. “Ok.”
Mr. Watts nodded to him, then started to turn away. Vincent did the same.
“Ben.”
Vincent turned back to him.
“Try not to let the other students see you.”
Vincent nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Watts dipped his head in thanks, then started off down the hall, almost jogging. Vincent started in the direction opposite.
“…but you could make time.” The boy Vincent didn’t recognize was still talking when Vincent reached them. “I can make time.”
“Thank you,” said Jessica. “But I can’t.” There was an edge of disappointment to her voice. “I’m sorry.”
The boy looked ready to press her further, then he saw Vincent. Casting Jessica one final look, he took off down the hall.
“What was that about?” said Vincent.
Jessica twisted around at the sound of his voice. “Nothing,” she said, rather quickly.
Vincent frowned, then turned to watch the other boy walk away from them. He was quite tall, and sturdily built.
“Were you just talking to Mr. Watts?” asked Jessica, changing the subject.
“Yeah,” said Vincent, turning back around to face her. Her pupils were wide, as Annie’s had been. “He got us the tour.”
Jessica’s expression changed entirely. “Really? When do we go?”
“Right now,” said Vincent. “The transport is out front.”
Jessica looked down the hall where Mr. Watts had just disappeared. “I didn’t think he would actually do it,” she said.
“I didn’t either,” said Vincent. “I don’t think he wants the others to know. Let’s wait until they’ve all gone.”
Jessica nodded in agreement as the last few stragglers passed them by toward the main doors. When the hallway was empty, they left the building through the side.
On the street, Vincent spotted a transport with its ramp already lowered onto the pavement. “I guess that’s for us,” he said. Neither of them hesitated this time. They crossed over to it and climbed inside.
“What all do you think we’ll get to see?” said Jessica when the pod started to rise. Vincent could hear the real question. Will we get to see the identification division?
“I don’t know,” he said. “We can ask them when we get there.”
Jessica didn’t say anything back. Nor did she tell him to look out the window so she could draw on his back again. The plan was simple now. They passed the rest of the ride in silence.
When the pod started to descend along the side of the Newsight tower, Vincent peered out the window. A thin, spectacled man in all white was looking up at them from the street.
“That’s probably our guide,” said Vincent.
Jessica nodded in agreement as she glanced at the man, then turned her gaze to the front of the building some ways off. There was a transport convoy parked on the street. Four of the large, three-wheeled transports Vincent and Jessica had ridden in back in the Seclusion blocked the better half of the road. A group of white-clad men were climbing out of them and walking inside.
The pod came to a stop just in front of the man with the spectacles, and the ramp lowered shortly after.
“Hello,” said the man. “You are Ben and Lena?”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“Good. Now out you come.” He made a beckoning motion, as they climbed down the ramp. “We won’t have much time. I’m doing Henry a big enough favor as it is.”
When they were fully out, he shook their hands. “Roger,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.” His tone seemed more rushed than pleased.
“Nice to meet you as well,” said Jessica. “We’re excited.”
Roger grunted noncommittally. “I wouldn’t raise your hopes too high,” he said. “It’s hectic today. You’ve heard about the hack, no doubt. Terribly embarrassing. That man who claims to be the leader of the Order is public enemy number one at the moment. We’re still in the midst of cleaning it up, but we expect a solution to be found quickly. Our Head of Privacy himself is leading the investigation. He just showed up today.”
Vincent and Jessica met each other’s eyes. The convoy had looked more familiar than they realized.
“But don’t worry,” said Roger, seeing their looks of concern. “I’ll show you everything I can. Henry – Mr. Watts, I should call him – said this was important to you. I couldn’t say no, especially to a future manager.”
Vincent smiled, gratefully back, but the excitement that had been building in him was turning to something closer to dread.
“How long will the Head of Privacy be here?” asked Jessica.
“For the rest of the day most likely,” said Roger. “But he’s a whole stratosphere above me, so don’t even think about asking for an introduction.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Vincent.
Roger didn’t hear him. He was waving a shooing hand at the transport that had just dropped them off. It started to rise. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Without waiting
for an answer, he started for the front of the building where the convoy – and Marcus – had just disappeared. Vincent and Jessica followed close behind.
“Most of this you’ll find quite boring I expect,” said Roger. “There’s a lot of administerial work, especially on the lower levels. Even on the management floors, there’s not a whole lot to see.”
“That’s ok with us,” said Vincent as they approached the door. “We’re just here to learn what we can.”
The door – big enough for half a dozen people to walk through shoulder to shoulder – slid open to receive them. As soon as they walked inside, Vincent felt as if they had walked back into the Seclusion. The lobby was completely open, as wide as the school dome in diameter, and with a second, narrower tower in its very center. The rest of the room was bare but for the paper-thin front desk.
“This is the main lobby,” said Roger. “Nothing interesting happens here. Unless we’ve had guests, that is.” He nodded over to the group of men who were filing into a pod in the enclosed tower.
“We’ll work our way up from here,” said Roger. “We can start with my level.”
He led them across the lobby toward the room where the men had just disappeared.
“Afternoon, Rachel.”
The woman at the front desk glanced up at Roger without so much as a grin. Then, when she saw Vincent and Jessica, she beamed. “Welcome to the Hux Headquarters of Newsight,” she said. Predictably, Vincent found the voice familiar.
As they neared the tower, the ceiling of the lobby curled back and up, and when it had disappeared altogether, Vincent could see straight above them. Vertical glass columns surrounded the tower’s perimeter, each with its own, transport-shaped pod inside. Branching off from the columns, in the dozen or so meters between the central tower and the larger tower that encased it, was empty space.
“There are 186 stories,” said Roger when they entered the tower’s bottom room. Half a dozen pods were there waiting for them. “We’ll be concerned only with the top six.”
“But what about all the others?” protested Jessica. “Can we not know what happens there?”
Roger pressed a button on the pod nearest, and the door slid open to let them in. “The first 180 stories are reserved for the Department of Research,” he said. Vincent waited for him to say something else, but nothing came. Instead, he motioned them into the pod.
“So what’s on the levels we can see?” said Jessica when they had stepped inside.
Roger leaned forward and held his eye up to a scanner on the wall. A second later, the pod began to rise.
“The three other departments besides Research,” said Roger. “Privacy, Product, and Strategy. Each occupies two floors.”
“What about identification?” asked Vincent.
“That’s a sub-department,” said Roger. “They’re under Privacy. I doubt you’ll see much of them today. They’ll be too occupied with the hack.”
Vincent chanced a look at Jessica. Her face was blank.
“Plenty else to see, though,” said Roger. “My level is quite interesting. I’m bias, obviously, but the product is the most important part of all this, isn’t it?”
Vincent and Jessica nodded simultaneously, as they were expected.
“So that’s our first stop,” said Roger. “Almost there.”
Vincent turned around to face the glass wall at their backs – Roger was right. They had already risen several hundred meters and were slowing to a stop.
“Might want to grab onto something,” said Roger.
Just as he said it, the pod jerked outward into open space. It hovered over thin air, just like the transports outdoors, before soaring toward the main, encasing tower. Vincent felt around the pod for some sort of a handhold, but the walls were perfectly smooth. They had come to a stop almost before he had realized what was happening. The pod door slid open.
“Home sweet home,” said Roger, stepping out. Vincent gladly followed onto solid ground behind him. When Jessica stepped out of the pod as well, it flew backwards, at a much greater speed, the way it had come. In front of them, the door to the small room they were in slid to the side.
“As I mentioned,” said Roger, “this is the Product level.”
The room on the other side of the door was curved in time with the skyscraper itself, and filled with a densely packed maze of rounded cubicles. In each one was a desk only slightly larger than those Vincent and Jessica had sat in just an hour prior, and in each desk sat men and women in the standard white uniforms, backs rigid and eyes blank. They appeared to be sharing in a single, widespread simulation.
“The Department of Product is divided into two sub-departments,” said Roger. He led them around the perimeter of the room as he spoke. “Lenses and Alternative Products, like transports and injections. Within these sub-departments each employee specializes in either growth: coming up with new features; or maintenance: making sure the existing features function properly. I’m in maintenance. It’s a rather new division, but we’re growing quickly.”
Vincent tried his best to look interested, but the longer he surveyed the sightless men and women in the cubicles, the stronger his urge to vomit.
“In maintenance we assess customer issues ourselves,” continued Roger. A hint of pride was beginning to creep into his voice. “In growth, my colleagues determine the direction of the product most favorable to the consumer, but they don’t actually do the implementation. They leave that to the developers.”
Jessica perked up at this. “Where do they work?”
“Research,” said Roger. The topic was closed.
Vincent turned to the people in the cubicles. None of them had moved. “So if these people aren’t developers, what are they doing?”
“They could be in a meeting,” said Roger. “Or at lunch.” His tone was that of someone who had just said something obvious. “So,” he continued, clapping his hands together. “That’s the Product level. Let’s keep moving.”
“Already?” said Jessica. “We’ve been here for two minutes.”
“And you’ve already seen it all,” said Roger. “It’s just like this all the way around – this level and next. Might as well move on to the next department.” He took off ahead of them down the path next to the rows of cubicles. Jessica cast Vincent a helpless look, then started after him. Vincent followed, his gaze still trained on the clouded over eyes of the men and women at the desks.
They caught up to Roger and kept pace close behind him. The three of them continued to walk for almost a minute before they reached another transport room. Roger’s eyes went out of focus as he stared at the wall, then he turned back to them.
“What did you think of the Product level?” he asked. There was an eager glint in his eye as he said it. The small army of immobile men and women, from his perspective, must have been quite impressive.
“Interesting,” said Jessica.
“Really cool,” said Vincent. Roger beamed with pride. Vincent felt sure he could have learned more from the modules back at school.
A moment later, an empty pod appeared in the opening next to them. Roger ushered them inside. Almost instantly, the transport moved outward over the empty space between towers. Instead of crossing all the way to the central tower, though, it rose straight up, skipping a floor and re-entering at the one after.
“Now for the Privacy level,” said Roger as they came to a stop. “Did you know Newsight had an entire department dedicated to privacy?”
Vincent shot Jessica a look. “We’ve heard of it,” he said.
“Most people haven’t heard of it,” said Roger, “but privacy has always been of the utmost importance to Newsight.”
The doors slid open, and they stepped out into an ante-room similar to before.
“We have lobbyists in the Senate, and at the municipal levels to ensure the correct regulations are in place. Not only for our company, but for all others as well.”
Roger pressed a button, and the larger doo
rs slid open. As soon as they did, Vincent felt the space open up immensely. The room had just as many desks as the product level, and just as many empty-eyed occupants to fill them, only here, the desks were packed even more tightly together, and there were no cubicles to separate them. In such close proximity, the workers seemed to trade every breath they breathed.
“Marcus runs a tight ship,” said Roger. “Very disciplined.” He led them through the door and out into the open space. They started once again to their right. “The Department of Privacy essentially audits the rest of Newsight,” continued Roger. “Anything Newsight does that is not aligned with our core privacy policies, Marcus jumps on in a second. He’s our devil’s advocate. Fatrem keeps him around just for that reason.”
“Where does Fatrem work?” asked Vincent. “Research?”
Roger didn’t hear the edge of sarcasm in Vincent’s tone. “Fatrem travels too frequently to work in any one location,” said Roger. “When he is here, though, he is said to be on one of the top two levels.”
“For Strategy?” asked Jessica. Roger nodded and turned away in his typical, topic-closing way.
“Within the Department of Privacy,” said Roger, “there are two more sub-departments: monitoring and identification. Almost everyone you see here is in the monitoring division. If you work in monitoring, you are given access to all company information. Each employee is assigned a set of other employees in the other departments to watch at all times. In this way, we can hold our colleagues accountable.”
“When you say watch,” said Jessica, “what exactly do you mean?”
“Through their Lenses,” said Roger. “Of course, civilian Lenses would never allow such an intrusion. The Lenses worn by Newsight employees are a special model. It’s the decision a Newsight employee makes when he first starts: to sacrifice his own privacy for the privacy of our customers.”
Vincent looked out at the men and women in their tightly packed desks, at their glazed-over eyes as they watched through the eyes of their colleagues.
“You said most of them work in monitoring,” said Jessica. She was looking at the employees as well, squinting, concentrating. “So some are in identification?”
“A portion of them, yes,” said Roger. “As I mentioned, identification is a comparatively small sub-department, but it remains an extremely important part of – well – you might be in for a treat after all.” He was looking straight ahead. Around the bend, the men they had seen from the lobby were on the same path, walking toward them. On instinct, Vincent turned around. He started back for the pod –
Jessica caught his wrist. He turned back to her, to pull her along with him, but she stayed where she was.
“I think I see him,” she said.
“Yes I know so do I,” said Vincent. “We need to–”
“I’m not talking about Marcus.”
Vincent paused, frowning.
“What are you doing?” asked Roger, turning back to them. “The Department Head is coming. Act civilized and you might get to meet him.”
Vincent looked down the path at the group of men – they had stopped to talk to someone – then back at Jessica. Jessica flicked her eyes toward the men and women in the desks. She was breathing a bit faster than normal, and she shifted, restless, on her feet. Slowly, as Vincent followed her eyes out to the employees in the desks, he began to realize.
“You think he’s here?” he asked.
Jessica opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off.
“Keep walking,” Roger shot back at them. He had already started off again down the hall. Marcus and the others had started moving as well. They were still some 20 meters away, but they were closing quickly. Jessica wasn’t paying them any attention. Her gaze was focused on the desks.
“We don’t have time,” hissed Vincent. “Marcus is too close. We can’t risk it.”
“This will be our only chance,” said Jessica. “We have to talk to him.”
“Marcus is going to see us. It doesn’t matter if it’s our only chance or not we need to–”
“Stall,” said Jessica. “I just need a minute.”
Before he could stop her, she veered off the path and into the field of desks. Vincent opened his mouth to call after her, but held himself back. He cursed under his breath.
“Are you coming or not?” Roger turned around, at first showing only annoyance, then, when he saw Vincent alone, something closer to fear.
“Where did–”
“I couldn’t stop her,” rushed Vincent, thinking quickly. “I told her to act civilized but she–”
“Where did she go?” hissed Roger. He glanced over his shoulder as he spoke, careful to keep his voice low. Vincent stole a glance down the path as well – Marcus and the others had stopped outside of a glass door, some sort of conference room. Marcus was stepping inside.
“I’m so sorry,” said Vincent. He chanced a look over at Jessica. She was still pushing through the crowd of men and women in the desks. They needed more time. “I couldn’t do anything she just–”
Roger flung his hand up for silence. He had followed Vincent’s gaze into the desks. “What is she doing!” he hissed. He pushed by Vincent, roughly, and cast another glance over his shoulder. Marcus was still in the conference room, but he was at the edge of the doorway, lingering there. He could leave at any moment. Cursing again, Vincent started after Roger. Jessica was far ahead, still jostling past the statuesque employees in the desks, but she appeared to be slowing down.
“Lena!” whispered Roger. “Lena get back here!”
Jessica didn’t look at him. She had come to the desk of an employee who only looked a handful of years older than she was. She shook him by the shoulders.
Vincent allowed himself another look behind them as he went. Marcus remained in the doorway. He appeared to be trying to leave, but someone inside continued to talk. He moved a step deeper into the room.
Vincent turned back to the body-width path between the desks, increasing his pace. Ahead, Jessica had shaken the young employee from his daze.
“Lena stop!” Roger hissed at her.
Jessica continued to shake. She was whispering in the employee’s ear, trying to rouse him.
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Roger. He was almost to Jessica and his colleague. “She got away from me. Incredibly rude of her, so sorry.” Roger reached them just after these last words, and he clamped his left hand down on Jessica’s shoulder. She winced at his touch.
“We’ll let you get back to work,” said Roger.
Vincent arrived close behind. He started for the employee as well, but Roger caught him by the arm.
“You’ve just ruined your chances at a position at Newsight,” snapped Roger. “I will personally see to it that any application labeled ‘Ben Carlson’ is shredded.”
The young employee seemed to snap fully from his daze now. Roger jerked on Vincent’s arm, back the way they had come.
“I just wanted to ask him about identification,” pleaded Jessica, still struggling. “I’m in the security trade. I just wanted to–”
“Excuse me?”
Roger paused, careful not to loosen his grip. He turned around. The young employee had risen from his seat.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“No, sir,” said Roger. “Sorry to–”
“We’re Ben and Lena Carlson,” cut in Jessica. There was desperation in her voice. She was speaking loudly enough to make Roger cringe.
“He doesn’t care who your father is, now just–”
“Carlson?” said the employee. He tilted his head away from them, squinting slightly, thinking.
“Sir please do not gratify this…” Roger struggled to find the right word, “…attack, with a valid response. I’m sorry to have interrupted your work.”
“Not at all,” said the employee. “I’m friends with their father.”
“For God’s sake don’t let them–”
“We wanted to ask you about identifica
tion,” said Jessica. “That’s why we came.”
For a beat, the employee showed only confusion. But then there was something else, something subtle. It passed so quickly across his face that a well-timed blink would have rendered it invisible.
“Identification?” repeated the employee. “That’s far too broad a topic for one question. We would need some time together.”
“Trust me,” said Roger. “You do not want to spend more than a minute with these two.” He started to drag them away. “I apologize.”
“No need,” said his colleague. Then he turned to Vincent and Jessica. “We can talk if you’d like. Tomorrow. I will contact you.” He met Jessica’s eyes on these last words, then they could see him no longer. Roger had spun them around so they walked in a line, like a dysfunctional little family, down the narrow path.
“You could have lost me my job,” hissed Roger. “If Marcus would have seen that, I would have been…”
Vincent ignored the man’s rant. On the left, Marcus had exited the conference room just on cue. He was starting down the path again. They were going to intersect.
“…not to mention disrespectful of Henry,” continued Roger. “He stuck his neck out for you, and this is how you reward him?”
Marcus paused once more just outside of the room. He was staring back inside, exasperated by whoever was speaking. On the right side of the path, another group, this one with collars a bit higher up their necks than the other employees, was headed for the conference room as well.
“We’re going straight back to the lobby,” said Roger. “You’ve earned yourself a one-way ticket out of here.”
They were almost out of the desks, but Roger’s grip only tightened as they got closer. Vincent’s arm was starting to go numb.
“I’m sorry,” said Jessica. “I was only curious.”
“I don’t care what you were,” snapped Roger. “We’re going.”
When they reached the main path, Jessica tried to lead them right, but Roger jerked her back to the left, toward Marcus.
“Sir isn’t the transport the other way?” rushed Vincent. “We don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”
“There’s a closer one than the one behind us,” said Roger. “I can’t afford to give either of you another chance at–”
“Roger?”
Roger froze in his tracks and turned around. Vincent did the same, relieved – Marcus was only meters from them, and his patience was growing thin with the man in the conference room.
“Mr. Morgan,” said Roger. “My apologies. We were just on our way out.”
“Not at all,” said the man who had spoken. He was flanked on either side by men and women in the high collared uniforms typical of Newsight management. Their eyes were all as clouded over as the men and women in the desks. These clouds, however, were quite a bit denser, stickier, like a fog that had never fully cleared.
“Your children?” asked the man called Morgan.
Roger shook his head. “No, sir. Actually…” he turned his gaze on one of the men at Morgan’s side, “…they’re Mr. Carlson’s.”
Vincent’s lungs stopped mid-breath.
The man Roger had looked at stepped forward. Vincent could hardly tell where the man’s irises ended and the white beyond them began. His Lenses seemed blurred, as if smudged, perhaps overused.
“Ben?” he said. “Lena?” He sounded unsure when he said the names. “I…” – Vincent held his breath; his lungs still weren’t working – “…I’ve never seen you before.”
A silence hovered between them – even the thumping in Vincent’s chest seemed to go quiet.
“Here at the headquarters, I mean,” the man continued. “Only in the residences. When you were little.”
Mr. Carlson continued to stare at Jessica, a few beats too long. Her eyes were starting to water at the corners – she hadn’t blinked for several seconds. “It’s been years, hasn’t it?” said Mr. Carlson. He looked at Vincent. “Several years.”
Vincent hesitated, then nodded his head.
“Come on, William,” said Mr. Morgan. “We’ve more important matters to attend to.” He started down the hall, with his colleagues still on either side. Mr. Carlson lagged a little behind.
“This way I suppose,” said Roger, impatient. “We’ll never get through.” He glanced back at the mob assembling outside of the conference room. Marcus had just stepped out of the doorway, waving a dismissive hand at the speaker inside.
“Ben? Lena?”
They stopped once again. Roger allowed them to turn around.
Mr. Morgan and the rest had continued on, but Mr. Carlson had lingered. The haze in his eyes, if only just a layer, had begun to clear.
“Let’s spend the weekend together,” he said. He was resolved as he said it, his eyes narrowed, as if squinting through the fog there. “In the residences,” he continued. “I won’t be home until late, but we could have all day tomorrow. Just the three of us.”
Behind him, Marcus was walking toward them, still in a fury from the conference room. He seemed prepared to barge straight through the group of managers blocking his path.
“Ok,” said Vincent, trying not to appear as rushed as he felt. “We’d like that. But we have to get going.”
Mr. Carlson appeared to start to say something, but he stopped himself. He looked confused. “Of course,” he said. “Back to your jobs.” He began to turn away, then paused again. He looked back at Jessica. “I like your hair, Lena.”
Jessica nodded in response. She was hiding behind Roger – her eyes were on Marcus. “Thanks, dad,” she said. Mr. Carlson hesitated there for another moment, wearing the faintest hint of a smile, then turned away. Jessica tugged on Roger’s arm from the front.
“What are you–”
“He’s busy,” said Jessica. “We should let him be.”
“You should have let everyone be,” Roger shot back.
“Marcus?”
The voice had come from behind them – it was Mr. Carlson. He sounded in a better mood than he had just a few moments before.
“Would you like to meet my–”
“Not now, William,” snapped Marcus. His voice was close, and growing closer. “I’m in the middle of something.”
Vincent pushed Roger from behind as they walked. They were almost to the transport room.
“Honestly,” snapped Roger, “did your father not teach you any manners?”
Jessica slammed her hand over the button to the transport room door. She slipped through before the thing was even halfway open, pulling Roger and Vincent in after her. She pushed them flush against the wall inside. Roger started to speak, but Jessica held up a hand for silence. Vincent saw the gray jumpsuit of Marcus pass by outside just as the door slid closed.
“Don’t you dare try to silence me, young lady,” snapped Roger. He slammed a fist against the button to the nearest pod. “No respect. None at all. And Henry.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Ridiculous. This is the last time I ever do him a favor.”
The pod zoomed up next to them with its door already open. Roger forced them inside first.
“Last tour I ever give,” ranted Roger. “You tell him that.”
The door of the pod slid closed, and they started their open-aired journey toward the central tower, and away from Marcus. Vincent had only recently started to breathe.
“Did you hear me?” snapped Roger.
Vincent nodded his head. “Yes, sir.”
Roger continued to bristle. He muttered another string of threats under his breath, but Vincent wasn’t listening. He was watching Jessica, and she was watching her Lenses.