CHAPTER EIGHT
Moscow, Ural Territory, December 4, 2308 19:08:02 (T-Minus 00:16:03:09)
As she walked in the cold evening air, Hotaru marveled at the vitality of the city. Even after most working people were done their shifts, the streets bustled with shoppers, students, and couples out walking. She passed market stalls selling everything from clothes to jewelry to the most incredibly good smelling foods. People chatted amiably everywhere, and she could also hear music coming from one of the stalls not too far away, the sound of the balalaika and gusli mixing with the speech to create a melody.
One particular food vendor caught her eye - and her nose. The tiny, wrinkled lady behind the bright red and yellow banners was cooking lamb. Hotaru could smell the jasmine and thyme used to spice the meat, and the tomatoes that were simmering in a pot nearby. She stopped to examine the selection of food available, and then pointed to lamb, rice and what looked like homemade bruschetta.
Whistling happily to herself, the lady assembled portions of each on a pita that also served as the plate. Hotaru felt and heard her stomach grumble in anticipation. Walking to the end of the stall, she fished in her pocket, pulling out ten Steel Royals in coin. There was a bin of bottled water in ice, and Hotaru grabbed one, adding another two to her pile of coins.
The wrinkled lady passed the pita-plate to Hotaru who offered the coins in exchange for the food. The lady waved them off, smiling. Hotaru looked at her, a frown of puzzlement crossing her face. In response, the lady pointed at her parka which had the iCorps government logo on it. Membership has its privileges, Hotaru thought. She smiled at the lady, and gave a half-bow of respect. Turning to find a spot to sit, Hotaru silently placed the coins beside the till box and walked to the nearest bench, a few paces away. Abujamal's office was half a block up the street, easy to monitor from here.
Happily munching away at her supper, she scanned the crowd, mentally gathering information about the citizens of Moscow. While the citizens all dressed similar, parkas, hats, and mitts for the weather, she began to notice a difference in the way they spoke to another. It didn't take long before she was able to distinguish the laborers from the professionals. She uncapped the water, taking a swig. Abujamal's door opened, and a tall, blonde-haired East Indian man stepped into the street, shutting the door behind him.
She casually picked up her Tablet, snapping a quick picture. It chirped twice, and the heads up display built into her sunglasses activated, superimposing a green checkmark over the picture's head. The image shifted to the left lens, and data began to appear in the right lens - name, birth date, height, and profession. It was Abujamal, that was for sure. And his office was now empty. It was hers for the taking, but she would wait a few minutes, just to make sure he didn't forget anything. That gave her time to finish her supper.
The benefit of having a pita for a plate meant that there was no waste, and Hotaru enjoyed every morsel. She finished her water, and deposited the bottle in a recycling receptacle on the way to Abujamal's Office. She crossed the street, mingling with the Muscovites, hearing their speech as they chattered to each other. It was soothing. A man tipped his hat to her, and she smiled at him, blushing.
Wait. A. Minute. She moved her sunglasses to the tip of her nose, looking over the frame. Igor looked back at her again, and smiled, offering her a wink. He placed a finger to his lips again, and chuckled as he turned back to the crowd, and disappeared almost instantly. As she pushed the sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, she activated the mode which turned them to thermal vision glasses. Glancing up the street, there were no heat readings coming from Abujamal's office. No, wait. There was one - a small one, with a tail. It was a cat. Nothing to worry about.
Another quick push where the glasses met her nose, and her view changed to an x-ray version of the world. Skeletons wearing the outlines of hats and carrying the outlines of briefcases passed by her. She glanced at her chronometer. It was time to move. She mounted the two steps to Abujamal's office, and looked at the locking mechanism for the door. With her glasses in this mode, she could see the inner workings of the tumbler, and she picked the lock easily, entering the office.
The cat came bounding from the back room to see who had come into the office. Hotaru knelt down, offering her hand to the cat. The cat sniffed her hand and after a moment's pause, nuzzled its head against Hotaru's knee. A quick scratch on the back was all Hotaru had time for, and she was up and moving toward the back room from which the cat had come. She switched off the glasses, and placed them atop her head.
The hallway leading to Abujamal's office was dark, but a sliver of light emanated from beneath the doorway ahead. She listened at the door, but there was no sound at all. She tested the knob, and it turned with a small squeak that sounded like thunder in the empty house. She swung the door open slowly and stepped gingerly into the room.
Organized chaos was the best way to describe his office. Stacks of books were piled in every corner of the room. A large wood desk and black steel chair dominated the center of the room. Papers covered every inch of the desk, and there were more piles of books near the desk's front legs. A cork board had a map of Moscow tacked to it, and frantic lines darted out of the city to circles that bordered subdivisions and townhouse complexes. Paper was tacked to the wall beside the cork board, and Hotaru could make out some of the words through the dust that covered the paper and the filing cabinets beside it.
In a room so chaotic, the dust caught her attention. She took off her jacket and gloves, placing on the back of the chair. Being careful not to disturb the dust, she analyzed the paper. She could make out a few words: Heart Disease, Smallpox, Cancer. And some dates: 2147, 2198, 2277. Lines connected the words to the dates, but there seemed to be no logical pattern to the connection. The first filing cabinet had three drawers, each labeled with one of the words from the paper. The dates were missing. The second filing cabinet had no labels on the drawers at all. How did they fit together? Did she dare open the drawers? Not now. She thought. She quickly took pictures of the charts, and papers tacked to the cork board and the wall.
She turned back to the desk, looking for a planner or calendar to see what Abujamal had planned for tomorrow. Not finding any paper record, she accessed his computer terminal. As it came to life, she came to a login screen. The user name was already entered, but the password box was empty. Hotaru sighed, and pulled her Tablet from her pocket. Accessing the menu, she selected the CrackerJack application, and connected the Tablet to Abujamal's computer. The Tablet would get into the computer for her.
The Tablet screen changed to a digital clock that began to count down. Five minutes. She set the Tablet on the desk, and began to search the papers for a clue to Abujamal's schedule for tomorrow. A man who lived in this level of chaos usually scribbled notes to himself to remember important things.
Moving papers around on the desk, Hotaru finally found a scrap of paper that had been buried under some medical magazines with articles on Cancer and Chicken Pox. The note read: Remember to read magazine articles after Mrs. Popov at one o'clock. There it was. Abujamal would be in his office at one o'clock. Checking her chronometer, she verified that it fell within the time limit for this Delivery. It did, with about forty-five minutes to spare. She'd just come about quarter past, and wait.
She put the note back, and was about to move the magazines back when another note taped to one of the magazines caught her eye: Cancer cured for years. Why are people getting Cancer? Hotaru glanced at the cover of the magazine. The headline read: ADVANCED DETECTION TOOLS FOR CANCER PATIENTS DEVELOPED. Hotaru turned back to the cork board tracing the line from Cancer to 2277. That was almost thirty years ago. She was about to get up and head to the filing cabinet when her Tablet chirped, bringing her attention back to the task at hand.
The login screen had disappeared, and she now saw a screen with a picture of a rainforest, leaves still wet from a recent rainstorm. Icons along the bottom of the screen allowed quick access to a variety of programs, but Hotaru sel
ected iCalendar, and waited for it to load. The day's events were listed on the left hand side of the screen, with future events on the right. There was the one-o'clock appointment for tomorrow. And the block of time Abujamal had reserved for his reading. And another note: If Cancer cured, why did two thousand people die from it in Moscow last year? She would have to have a discussion with Abujamal tomorrow.
She copied the files to her Tablet for further investigation and quickly logged out, disconnecting her Tablet from the computer. She arranged the papers on the desk to a close approximation to they way they were when she had entered the room, and grabbed her parka and gloves. As a last minute thought, she scooped up the magazine with the note attached to it. Shutting the door as she exited the office, Hotaru bundled up and headed back to the hostel.