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Jason traveled across the three regional districts to the Government Plaza District using the direct, high-speed shuttle service instead of the autowalks, which reduced his travel time significantly. Of course, doing so was a gamble itself since the shuttle service had a reputation of frequent breakdowns and delays, but on this day, Jason's luck held, and he arrived ahead of his appointment time.
After walking around the area for a few minutes, he entered the large lobby of building 3A with five minutes to spare, then used up most of that time waiting for a lift to take him to the fourteenth floor. He arrived at room 1414 a minute before his appointed time, then walked around the hallway for another five minutes. While Jason was habitually on time, on this occasion he didn't want to give this Romanof character the satisfaction of his punctuality.
Romanof returned the favor by keeping Jason sitting in the outer office for ten minutes before the secretary pointed him towards the door. Isaac Romanof was a large man in both stature and dimensions. Jason estimated him to be a good two or three inches over six feet, and probably three hundred pounds, with much of it concentrated around his mid-section. The customary blue-gray uniform of the Patriarchy's security stretched over the large man's form, suggesting that his bulk was too large for the largest size supplied by the government.
Jason was surprised at the graying around Romanoff's temples. Those in the governmental bureaucracy of the Patriarchy often considered such an appearance a sign of importance and seniority, suggesting that the agent had lasted long enough in his job to have gray hair. While it might be fake, it looked authentic to Jason.
Without bothering to rise, Romanof waved Jason to a straight-backed chair on the other side of a large desk. As Jason sat down, he realized the chair legs were several inches shorter than normal, forcing him to look up and over the desk where Romanof sat in a much larger leather chair. It made him feel like a young kid back in the Wards who'd been called to the counselor's office. Jason was surprised to find his armpits dripping sweat and his heart rate accelerated. At least the sensations were a welcome relief from the deadness he'd been experiencing lately.
Romanof continued to ignore Jason for several minutes as he remained focused on the computer screen built into the desk's surface. Finally, he looked up as though noticing Jason for the first time. What an asshole, Jason thought without changing his facial expression. Well, two could play this game.
"No doubt, Mr. Joval, you are wondering the reason I called you in today." It was more of a statement than a question.
Jason shrugged but refrained from commenting. After all, it was Romanof's interview in his office. Let's just see what the man has to say first. No reason to reveal his own hand yet.
"It has come to our attention that you've been engaged in a number of conversations with other citizens who have subsequently filed complaints to this office." Romanof paused, waiting for a response from Jason. When Jason remained silent, he finally continued. "The complaints have come in various forms. Normally we would have ignored most of them except for the number and frequency of them."
Romanof paused again. Jason continued to remain silent.
After a long moment, Romanof looked up from his desk and gave Jason a hard glare. "What are you looking for, Mr. Joval, that would have you asking so many questions—questions that many people around you find disturbing enough to complain to the Patriarchy?"
Jason shrugged, deciding it was time to break his silence. "I don't know that I'm looking for anything in particular. I'm surprised that a simple citizen like myself would be brought to the attention of such a high ranking officer as you just for engaging in a few innocent conversations."
"I would hardly call you a simple citizen, Mr. Joval," Romanof replied. "No, you are hardly that. As one of the all-time biggest winner at the life-chip tables, people pay attention to what you say. We would advise you to keep your conversations in line with what you know something about Rumbuc, for example. Leave the speculating on other subjects that people find disturbing alone."
"But that's part of my point," Jason replied. "No one is engaged in the questions I'm asking. In fact, everyone seems alarmingly unaware to even ask such questions. For example, let me ask you. What do you think is on the other side of the clouds?"
Romanof showed the faintest hint of a smile before coughing in his hand. "Mr. Joval, I not only haven't the foggiest idea what's behind the clouds, but I also don't care, and I don't believe anyone else does. Why does there have to be anything on the other side of the clouds? Really, such questions cannot lead anywhere."
"They led me to you," Jason shot back. When Romanof didn't say anything but sat behind his desk with a confused look on his face, Jason added, "My asking a few simple questions resulted in my being called in by you. I checked around and was surprised to find how high-ranking an officer you are in the Security Department. You sit on the Assembly, do you not?"
"Yes, that's correct. What are you getting at?" Romanof asked.
"Getting at? Oh, nothing I suppose. It's just interesting that I would be ordered to meet with such an important government official, me, a life-chip gambler who has done nothing but ask a few thought provoking questions. Is that it, Romanof? Is it because I'm provoking people to think? Are we in such a tenuous balance that a few questions could threaten the Patriarchy? I find that all fascinating."
Romanof glared at Jason, his jaw muscles working hard. Finally, working to control his emotions, he replied. "Off the record, Mr. Joval, I suggest you tread carefully. You are a product of the system you are questioning. It would not be to your advantage to delve too deeply."
"Are you threatening me? Need I remind you that I'm a highly visible figure. Millions have followed my gambling career. If I were to suddenly disappear, people would wonder what happened to me. You would eventually have to start answering their questions, more darn pesky questions."
"I wouldn't be so cocksure," Romanof countered. "We made you Mr. Joval, and we can just as easily unmake you. Good day to you." Romanof stood up and walked to the door, opening it to let Jason know the meeting was over.
As Jason traveled down to the main lobby, he contemplated what Romanof had said. What had he meant by that last statement? How could the Patriarchy take credit for making him? It didn't make sense. He had made himself. He had been the one who had taken the critical chances and then seen to it that they'd paid off. The Patriarchy had nothing to do with it unless you considered building the Gambling Zone as part of it.
Jason was still thinking about Romanof's last comment as he left Building 3A and started walking towards his shuttle. He wasn't paying much attention to the horde of people jostling around him until suddenly he spied a familiar looking hat with ear flaps. Could it be? Jason wondered. What would Tinker be doing here on the surface and especially in the Government Plaza area? But how many such hats could there be?
Jason followed the small figure through the crowd until he was able to confirm that it was, indeed, Tinker. How in the hell did the kid get away with walking around on the surface? Then, as Tinker turned a corner, Jason spied the glitter of an earring as one of the ear flaps bounced in the air.
But that still didn't answer the question what the boy was doing in the Government Plaza District. Jason rushed to catch up, but Tinker's smaller size was a definite advantage in maneuvering through the crowd. As the distance between them grew, Jason's frustration mounted. He had to get Tinker's attention. He had to talk to him. Somehow he needed to persuade Tinker to take him to Seattle's new lair.
Finally, in desperation, Jason called out. "Tinker, wait up!"
Tinker paused for just a moment and looked around. Jason couldn't be sure whether Tinker had seen him or not, but within seconds Tinker turned around again and disappeared into the crowd. Jason searched for almost an hour, hoping to catch another glimpse of him, but he was nowhere to be found.
Jason slowly retraced his steps to where he'd first seen the boy. The building Tinker had come out of was the CCC, Central Communication & Control. Most people considered the CCC as the nerve network of the entire MED. The building housed the central computer systems and the majority of the communication network.
Why would Tinker be there? Then Jason remembered how much Tinker enjoyed fiddling with high-tech devices. What better source of gadgetry than the CCC, where so much of life under the MED was controlled, from the accounting of lifetime credits and worths to the lighting and utilities of all the districts.
It was also one of the most protected and well-guarded buildings under the Dome. Hardly the kind of place a kid who'd be considered an illegal alien and a threat to the state would be allowed to hang out just so he could mess around with the master computer.
Seattle must be crazy to let Tinker come to this area.
Jason caught the shuttle back to his apartment. As he entered his place, he was pleased with himself for taking the two days to clean it up. He hated coming home to a messy apartment. He was walking to his eating alcove to get himself a drink when he spied the small slip of paper on the counter.
Strange, he thought as he walked over and picked it up to find it was a handwritten message. No one used such archaic ways to deliver a message these days, he thought as he unfolded it. Paper wasn't even that readily available these days. He read the message
Old Chinese proverb: curiosity killed the cat. Also true of gamblers.
Jason turned the note over looking for a signature but found nothing to indicate who'd sent it. Who could it be from? Emerald Eyes? Hardly. Casey? Nix on that as well. Seattle? Could it be? It made sense in some way. She might have easier access to paper than she would to a computer terminal. He started to put the paper down, then stopped. If it was from Seattle, how had she managed to get inside his apartment to leave the message on the counter? And why would she risk contacting him with such a cryptic message?