I arrived early the next morning for Jones’s special committee meeting. Brandon waited outside of the conference room. A few other members had also arrived early, but the halls were mostly empty.
“Got those reports ready?” Brandon asked with a conspiratorial hint in his voice.
“No reports.”
He started to argue, but I didn’t give him a chance.
“It’s all taken care of. Jones has nothing.”
He stepped closer and lowered his voice. Even though he was standing nearly right on top of me I could barely hear him.
“It didn’t sound like nothing on Saturday.”
“Saturday I was dead, today it’s Jones’s turn.”
He gave me a sideways glance.
“Really, Brandon, I’ve got this covered.”
“You’ve said that before.” He moved back to a more normal distance. “You’re never as clever as you think, Jason, never.”
I just smiled. Sure, I’d made mistakes and who hasn’t, but between Pamela and Forge this thing was wrapped up neat with a pretty little bow on top.
As the hour approached people filled the hallway. The last to arrive was Jones, followed closely by a Security man in his stern black uniform. She glanced in my direction, giving me an unfriendly smile. Though I felt no guilt, I mischievously wore my best hangdog expression. I suppressed a giggle, wondering if people once did hang dogs, and for what crimes?
We followed her inside and I took my usual seat at the far end of the great curved table. As I passed Jones, already seated in the center, she said sotto voce, “Hope you like fieldwork.”
I turned to face her, walking backward toward my seat, and my voice remained strong and loud.
“Madam Chairperson, I always enjoy my work.”
Before she could reply I turned my back to her and marched to my seat. I sat, adjusted my chair, and then as the meeting opened I locked eyes with her. She matched me, returning a cool, cruel gaze paired with a faint smile.
Breaking our staring contest, she opened the special meeting, apologizing for upsetting our biweekly schedule. She took far more words and time than usual, extending the moment by every possible second. Following her insincere apologies, Jones launched into a lecture on the moral integrity required to hold a subcommittee position, stressing the importance to current and future generations that degeneracy would not be allowed to threaten Nocturnia and what remained of humanity. It was a hell of a speech.
“A few days ago,” she continued, “I noticed something that didn’t look quite right in our media files. Of course I am no expert in the network or the computer systems, so I called on the security forces to investigate. I fear someone has breached the secure directories, possibly disseminating morally questionable media.”
She gestured toward the Security representative, giving him the floor. We wasted another 10 minutes while Investigator Thomas Chen reviewed their mandate and methods. I swear that there’s not a single Administration official capable of answering “Are you hungry?” without at least a five-page preamble. Finally he narrowed down to the ‘data breach’.
“Subchairperson Jones contacted us fearing an unauthorized intrusion. We’re happy to report that no such event took place.”
Jones’s eyes widened, but she quickly resumed her poker face, though as Chen spoke her eyes often darted angrily toward me.
“Our conclusion is that a high-level user accidentally transferred files from secure data storage to the public access servers.”
“That’s not what happened,” Jones said.
“It is the most likely scenario, Chairperson Jones. While the files lacked entries that would have made them available to the colonial search engines, they were accessible by all colonists.”
He turned in my direction.
“We did find access by Director Kessler.”
Jones smiled again, but it quickly vanished.
“Director Kessler’s quick action and outstanding diligence prevented any of the embargoed files from falling into the public’s hands. By re-securing the directory—”
Jones stood and leaned over the table.
“Are you certain about that? Are you certain he didn’t just entertain his own sick fetishes with those—?”
“We are quite certain. The network logs are clear. Director Kessler moved the suspected—”
“Then the network files have been tampered with!” She pointed a finger, her nail long and blood-red, in my direction, stabbing the air like a weapon. “I know this man. He’s not one to let such an opportunity pass. The files have been altered! You need—”
Chen’s voice never moved above a casual level, but the steel in it silenced her. “Chairperson Jones, a thorough investigation has been conducted. The network has not been compromised. The logs have not been altered. Instead of accusing Director Kessler of degeneracy you should be commending him. It was only his swift action that prevented your subcommittee from becoming a very public embarrassment.” He stepped closer to Jones. “An embarrassment caused by your negligence with confidential materials. If you wish to press the matter we can take this to the Governing Council.”
I received another withering look from Jones. I smiled and she sat, turning her attention back to Chen.
“Pardon me,” she said. “I was mistaken. Of course, now that all the facts are known, this matter looks quite different.”
Without a word, but with all the haughtiness of his position, Chen left. Jones invented busywork for the committee and we played along with her, offering opinions on meaningless topics and backing them up with irrelevant votes. Brandon leaned over to me and with a soft voice asked, “What the hell just happened?”
“Jones isn’t everything,” I answered, perhaps not as softly as Brandon would have liked.
The meeting concluded and we left Jones in the conference room, fuming.
* * *
As Brandon and I rode back to the theater the settled districts whizzed by in a blur.
“Are you going to tell me what happened back there?”
“I could, but I don’t think you really want to know.”
He paused, considering my advice. “You’re probably right. I do know that you couldn’t hack your way past your own password.”
I laughed. He wasn’t wrong there. I had never cared at all for technical gobbledygook.
“I can’t take the credit, that’s certain.”
“I’m not sure that you would want to take the credit.” He shook his head. “Hacking the colonial network is very serious. They exile people for that.”
“So they should put Jones over the wall. She started this.”
“No one’s going to care who started it. And she didn’t do anything except set you up. Even if you could prove she left the files unlocked, that’s not the same, not the same at all, as going into the network and altering the damned records!”
Frustrated, I threw up my hands. “What the hell do you want, Brandon? Did you want me crucified to make Jones happy?”
“No.” He sighed a heavy breath that left his shoulders sagging. He looked at me, his fedora nearly covering his dark brown eyes and face. “I just have the feeling that you’re in way over your head.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
He snorted and said, “Tell that to Seiko.”
“Why don’t you? I’m sure you will anyway.”
He looked momentarily puzzled and then angry.
“I didn’t do that.” He turned away, staring out the car’s window. For the rest of the trip neither of us said a word.
When we reached the theater we climbed out and stood at the steps. The car sped off, already summoned on another call, and we silently waited for one of us to move or speak. I sensed Brandon was about to stomp up the steps and I didn’t want more bad blood between us.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.
He stopped, turned around, and stared at me from two steps higher.
“I should believe you,” I continued. “And if you say you didn’t send that message—”
“And I didn’t.”
“Then you didn’t.”
He smiled and descended a step. “Thank you.”
I climbed and met his level. “And you don’t have to worry. I’m through messing with the colonial network. Now that I’m out of Jones’s trap, there’s no need.”
His smile faded and he took me by a shoulder. “But there’s still that other woman, isn’t there?”
I didn’t answer. I just shrugged and he released me. Together we went inside to work but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had rejected a chance to turn back, one I should have taken.
Before long my mood turned and thoughts of Pamela danced in my head. With Jones shoved to one side, Seiko happy, and even Brandon acting less like an ass, the future looked bright. The evening’s sexual antics seized my imagination.
Darkness fell and the crowd arrived. From the office window I watched as the men, women, and children filled the lobby. Maria helped people, her welcoming smile melting hearts; Patrick looked after the lobby and coat check, but with his eyes constantly darting to Maria, people warmed to him less. No doubt when Pamela arrived he’d switch his focus.
Each time the door opened my heart beat faster and each time someone other than her entered. I told myself she was wisely taking care, avoiding unwanted attention, safeguarding our secrets, but with each disappointment my apprehension grew.
The crowd thinned as performance time neared and still there was no sign of her. I waited by the office window, splitting my time between watching the lobby and the security monitors. When the last of the patrons moved into the auditorium and showtime arrived, I remained in the office, my heart thumping painfully in my chest, certain that something had happened. I took out my slate and called her, but only reached that damned message.
Maria looked up at the office window and I saw her struggle with my absence. Rather than leave her in torment, I left for the pre-show presentation. I said nothing to her or Patrick, going straight to my spot in front of the audience. As I spoke I carefully scanned the crowd, row by row, as though Pamela with her stunning beauty and flamboyant style could slip past me unnoticed. I finished the routine remarks and headed up the aisle, the houselights dimming with my hopes.
I waved wordlessly to Maria and Patrick as I returned to the office. Work proved elusive and unable to hold my attention. Every few moments I checked the monitors, searching for her face, her smile, her irresistible sexuality, but every time my hope crashed on a hard reality. Perhaps tonight she couldn’t slip Forge’s grasp, perhaps while I waited the unknown man held her in his sweaty pawing hands.
Seiko called and we spoke for half an hour. I let her know that not only did I escape Jones’s little trap but that Jones now looked considerably worse in the eyes of Security. She wanted to celebrate, but I continued hoping futilely for Pamela’s arrival and begged off all plans.
The frivolous family movie ended and I shuffled to the auditorium for the required Q-and-A session. The audience provided no meaningful distraction. They finally left, and with only a moderate amount of prompting even the stragglers departed quickly. I helped Maria and Patrick close up and secure the drones and the stations. After they left I stood alone in the lobby, wishing for Pamela.
I wasted a few more hours watching films and not remembering anything of them, my thoughts fixed only on her. Finally I went to bed and fitfully slept.
* * *
My slate’s alarm shattered my lousy sleep, pulling me from an intermittent slumber into a barely conscious stupor. I fumbled for the damned thing, knocking it to the floor, and sent it halfway across my bedroom. After tumbling out of bed, I stumbled to it, and answered the all-too-early call.
“Jason!” Pamela appeared in the screen. Her voice was low but panicked and she held her slate badly, making it hard to see her face. “Jason! Let me in.”
Adrenaline dispelled my grogginess. That didn’t look like the theater’s entrance.
“Where are you?”
“Not far.” She strangled a sob and then continued. “I was too afraid to take a car all the way.”
She turned her camera and I saw her face was bruised with one eye swelling.
“If you’ll unlock the door I’ll run across. I don’t think anybody is watching.”
Fear, anger, and a host of other emotions flooded my brain. I wanted to kill. I wanted to break Forge. I wanted to make him suffer.
“Jason, please.”
Her pleading tore at my heart, inflaming me more, but also breaking me out of my fight or flight loop.
“Of course.”
I unsecured the security system and unlocked the door.
“Hurry.”
Not bothering with nightclothes I hurried down to the lobby, arriving just as Pamela burst through the door. She slammed it closed, throwing her weight against the door as she slid it into place. At first I feared someone was chasing her, but then I saw the slump of her body, the quivering in her calves, and knew she was near collapse from exhaustion. I locked the door and hurried over. I caught her just as she fell toward the floor.
“It’s okay,” I said, those useless words everyone spouts in a crisis. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
We moved to a lobby sofa and I gently placed her down on it. I sat, letting her lie back on my lap, cradling her head and stroking her thick black hair. Tears leaked from her eyes, the blackened one now swollen closed. I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.
“What happened?”
She sniffled and even when she made ugly nasal noises I still found her irresistible.
“He’s found out about us.”
The words came as no surprise. No, given the bruises, the tears, and the terror, this was a turn I expected.
“Forge already knew about me.”
With her one good eye she looked up at me. “Forge?”
“Well, you said he’s found out—”
The last thing I expected was her laughter, but she giggled and it took her several seconds to stop.
“No, not Forge,” she said. “Eddie’s found out about us.”
She sat up, slowly and with care, then leaned against the sofa, letting her head fall back, her neck limp.
“He knows there’s a man in my life and he’s very jealous.” After a brief pause she continued. “He doesn’t know who and he’s not going to find out.”
“I’m not scared.”
“You should be. He’d kill you, Jason. I don’t mean that like someone boasting, he’d really kill you.” Very softly, so much so that I almost couldn’t hear it, she added, “He always kills his enemies.”
Neither of us said anything for a very long time. Her crying resumed, each sob stabbing my heart.
“I can’t see you anymore.” Her sniffles made her words almost unintelligible. “I love you, Jason, but Eddie’s dangerous and I can’t, I just can’t let him hurt you.”
“Leave him.”
She refused to look me in the eye, her black hair screening her face.
“There’s no place to hide. No matter what we do he’ll always find us. Forge will make sure of that.”
“Maybe we can bribe Forge or something.”
Now she looked at me, a wan smile on her lips.
“Forge isn’t a person, it’s a thing, a computer.” She waved a hand in the air. “I don’t know where he got it or how. He calls it ‘Vulcan’s Forge’ and it’s like a Founder, only no one in the Admin knows it exists.”
A Founder? All of the artificial intelligences followed programming and self-destructed. The colony’s architects back on Old Earth had been very clear that once established no sentient computers were allowed in Nocturnia.
“But you could make it do things.”
“Yeah, some. Eddie trusts me – a little.” She turned and fell into my arms. “I wanted someone to love, someone who’d love me back, and Forge found you for me.” She paused for another spasm of sobs and then continued. “I have to go. I won’t let Eddie hurt you.”
I held her close, the heat of her skin piercing my body, warming me with more than mere temperature.
“Can we turn him in?”
“Forge protects him. He can see every Security report.”
She threw her arms around me, holding me tight.
“I don’t want to let you go,” I said.
She tried to push herself out of my arms, but I locked my grip and held her fast. “I’m not letting you go.”
“We don’t have a choice.”
Fighting her struggles, I kept her in my embrace. I racked my memory for anyone on the Administration named Ed, Edward, or Eddie but came up blank.
“What if we don’t go to Security? What if we go directly to the Governing Council? Surely they’d turn on one of their own gone rogue.”
She stopped fighting me and held still for a moment, and then turned toward me, her face just inches from my own.
“He’s not on the Council,” she said. “Except for Forge, he’s nobody.”
Several silent moments passed as mentally things clicked into place.
“So without Forge he’s got nothing?”
“Yeah.”
“Can we take Forge?”
She slipped from my grip and sat up. “He’d kill you.”
I reached up and stroked her cheek, avoiding the expanding bruise. “If you stay he’ll kill you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday.”
Taking my hand in hers, she kissed each finger, and held it gently to her face. “Together,” she whispered. “We’ll do it together.”