SENALL

31 The thing about Max Rydell was, he hated his job. Dorie knew this to be true because he’d told her as much the few times she’d spoken with him while she had the governorship. Granted, she’d never had the need—or opportunity—to speak with him much at all. What went on in the Bubble hadn’t concerned her, and to be honest, Rydell had kept silent on almost everything related to the workings of the facility.

He’d told her, however, how much he disliked working there. He agreed to the post after the Memors of the MSA recruited him. They respected his time with the NIO during the first Ultra scare when he spearheaded the initial operation to hunt down Thin Men at large in the Union. What better person to oversee the Bubble and its unusual test subjects?

Or, as Lorway had revealed to her after they left Tempest Tower, its one unusual test subject. Lorway, the only prisoner of the Bubble—that is, until Sakson dumped Adi Thakur in there. And then me.

So the warden didn’t like his job. And honestly, what kept him there now, if Lorway was gone? Did he really care about Adi Thakur being there? She believed he hadn’t even been there when Dorie woke up inside. Skeleton staff dismissed, perhaps. And Rydell, sick of his job, preferring to go home to New Venasaille each day when off duty, instead of taking advantage of the complete living quarters assigned to him in the Bubble. It was a lot of trouble—and maybe expense, if the MSA wasn’t covering it—to pass through the Shell and stomach the mind-numbing delays and security concerns of the domelock.

How many hooks did Tom Sakson have in Max Rydell? Would Max even listen to her if she showed up on his doorstep?

Time to find out.

“Are you sure about this?” Lorway asked her.

Dorie sprawled out on the old couch and Lorway knelt on the floor beside her. “Of course. We need the information, and Dave told me how Terree did the trick on him.”

“It’s not a trick.”

“Fine. When she put him into the Memory. And you can do it, too?”

“Any Memor who’s studied the principals of it can, yes.”

“There’s no danger to me or you, right?”

“Mostly right.”

Dorie frowned but let that go.

“I’m not taking you in as deeply,” Lorway said. “You’ll be aware of yourself, more so than Crowell was, but you’ll be seeing through someone else’s eyes. My understanding is that Crowell sank a lot deeper into the Memory, through many layers. Even then, he would tell you it all just seemed as real as anything, except seeing it from someone else’s perspective.”

“So let’s do it.”

It didn’t take long. She didn’t spend time explaining things, since Dorie had a basic handle on the process, matching consciousness before searching for others in New Venasaille. Someone Dorie had talked to. Someone who’d unconsciously communicated with her own brain. Someone with the correct mindset she could lock onto so she could view information from that person’s point of view.

Lorway, seemingly with little effort, channeled the Memory and, even though Dorie knew it was coming, Lorway managed to surprise her. She reached out and touched Dorie on the forehead.

As it turned out, she was Tom Sakson. When had this moment taken place? It wasn’t that long ago; Sakson had taken control of the domes by then. The Memory had taken her to this moment, and Sakson had obviously gained enough clearance to access New Venasaille’s grid and was discussing dome protocols with Rydell.

She was disgusted at the idea of looking through Sakson’s eyes, but thrilled at the idea of eavesdropping on this slice of the immediate past, Sakson none the wiser as he discussed Bubble security with Rydell. The warden brought up a flashscreen, accessing New Venasaille’s directory of Bubble personnel, as well as the lock codes to the facility’s entry access points, and Sakson studied the data.

Dorie could see it, too. The information scrolled slowly, and the list was not long: fewer than a dozen names, all okayed and installed at the Bubble by the MSA. At this point in time, only Rydell knew the identities of the subjects within, supposedly all Thin Men, but he must’ve known from the very beginning that Lorway was the only occupant, and not a Thin Man at all.

Dorie cursed him under her breath, angry that he’d kept that information from her. Even now, if interrogated, he would say he answered to a higher power: the MSA.

Sakson then asked for the Bubble’s lock codes.

“It’s highly irregular,” Rydell said. “They are not to be shared—”

“You will with me,” Sakson said. “Or you will never return to the Bubble.”

“Are you threatening me? Do you know who I work for?”

“C’mon, Max. You’ve never liked working in the Bubble. Admit it, you’d just as soon be on Memory working directly with the MSA.”

“I don’t, and I do, but the choice isn’t up to me.”

“You’re right. The MSA probably wouldn’t take you back. So walk away and enjoy your retirement. The MSA would understand.”

“And someone else would be put in my place, and you’d be right back where you started. You would never gain access.”

“I already have access.” He flashed his comm card at the warden. “Frilse Halskla, MSA Under-Director approved it yesterday.”

Max Rydell seemed stunned. He stepped back from Sakson’s comm card, as if it were a weapon, and frowned. “But how—?”

Sakson didn’t miss a beat. “I used to occupy one of Memory’s Thin Man facilities. I was a subject.”

“What?”

“Well, not me, per se. I was copied. I woke up in an alley in Venasaille, pre-Coral disaster, having lost a couple of days. Only later did I realize what it all meant, after the truth became known and the search for Thin Men began. The MSA informed me of my copy’s capture, and I went out to see it. Strange indeed, seeing a perfect copy of yourself. The Memors had already conducted an entire battery of tests on it.”

“So you received special privileges there.”

“And spent enough time on the premises to warrant some visits with top MSA officials. The conclusion is, I have clearance.”

Max Rydell nodded.

“But I still need the access codes.”

“Why do you need them?”

“I have new—subjects—to put in there.”

Rydell sputtered, then shook his head. “That’s not allowed. All subjects must be approved prior to—”

“You’re out, Max.”

The warden looked like he’d just been stabbed in the heart. He put a hand over his chest as if he were trying to keep blood from flowing. “What do you mean I’m out?”

“We just talked about it, remember? Retirement.”

“Forced retirement.”

Sakson shrugged apologetically.

“And my staff?”

“Gone too. No one needs to watch the inside. Let Lorway rot in there. Let my new detainees rot in there.” He shrugged again, slowly, methodically, letting the warden see this was the way it was. No choice. “The codes, Max.”

Rydell stared hard at Sakson, almost daring the new governor to force the issue somehow, but his resolve wavered. He flicked the flashscreen and a new report appeared.

And that was how Dorie found out where Max Rydell lived in New Venasaille and learned the access codes to the Bubble. She hoped Rydell would allow them access—even willingly—through domelock, out of New Venasaille, and over to the facility. It was possible Sakson had revoked his privileges completely, but she also thought the MSA might still have some pull regarding his passage through the Shell. Then, with the access codes, Max Rydell would simply be a passenger—willing or not—as they rescued Adi. She was quite certain now that the Bubble was otherwise deserted.

Adi was alone.

Dorie woke on the couch and instantly felt sick to her stomach. Her lips burned and her mouth tasted of sand. Her left eye twitched. This wasn’t a side effect of the Memory but was typical of RuBy withdrawal. Lorway hovered over her, concerned, but Dorie waved her off. She wished she’d saved at least one square of RuBy. She looked at her red-stained hands and wondered if she might get some from there. The image of her licking her palms and Lorway’s appalled expression kept her from doing it.

“Well?” the Memor asked.

“I got it all.” Dorie put out a hand and Lorway helped her sit up. Her head pounded like a jammed jump slot cog, but she sat still long enough for the cranking in her skull to die down.

“What now?” Lorway swung her orange hair behind her shoulders. “It’s getting late. Should we rest here?”

Dorie looked back toward the balcony, but stayed where she was. Night had fallen. She could just make out some of the upper arc of the dome. Stars shone as muted chips of light, the Shell distorting and diffusing their brilliance.

“Fuck no,” she said. “Let’s go wake up Max.”