The Underground News team didn’t exactly look like a group of professional broadcast journalists as they disembarked the water taxi in Harbor East. Olive got off first, a giant diaper bag swinging from her shoulder. She unfolded the stroller and strapped in a squirming Beckett, which made his happy mood flip to anger. He kicked, reached toward the water taxi, and cried. The people waiting to board the boat made no secret of their impatience, but Ash still waited for Maya to get the camera on and ready before getting off the boat herself. It would make good background footage, as long as Brielle could edit out the sound of Beckett’s crying. Then Olive pulled up the exact location of Van Ness Media on her phone and pointed in the right direction. The four of them finally set off: anchorwoman, camerawoman, screaming baby, and babysitter.
Harbor East was much newer than Federal Hill. Instead of narrow brick row houses and small, cozy shops, there were glass skyscrapers, mall-size stores, and large restaurants. The sidewalks were full of people dressed in crisp business attire, and most of them walked briskly around The Underground News parade without even looking up from their phones. Ash knew it was just a coincidence that some big clouds had rolled in right when they’d gotten off the water taxi, but the drop in sunlight and temperature suddenly lent an ominous air to this outing. The anchorwoman shivered. She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her school uniform khakis and stiffened her shoulders, but she kept walking.
After a brief stop by a large fountain, which, thankfully, made Beckett forget to be upset about leaving the boat, they walked two more blocks and found themselves outside a tall, modern building with the words Van Ness Media wrapped around the side. While Maya shot the building from different angles, Ash stared at the entrance and wondered what on earth she was going to say once she went inside. Was she really going to accuse the CEO of playing favorites? Was it too late to turn around?
“You’re going to be great,” Maya whispered, gently squeezing Ash’s arm.
As if on cue, a man in a suit opened the door from inside. He was about to walk through it, but he waited when he saw Ash and Maya, and said, “Coming in?”
Ash had no choice but to nod, thank him, and step inside.
“Whoa,” she whispered.
The lobby was cold and cavernous. The floors were made of polished concrete. Rough, blocky columns rose to the towering ceiling. To the right, two sleek leather sofas faced each other on a large, cow-skin rug. No one was sitting on the sofas, which wasn’t surprising; they didn’t look very comfortable. On the other side was a row of security turnstiles, like the ones Ash had gone through that time she rode the metro in Washington, DC. A group of men passed through on their way out, each pressing an electronic badge to a sensor in order to open the glass gate. Maya was scanning the large space, and Ash could tell that she was itching to capture it on camera, but after the dancing gym teacher incident, she wouldn’t dare record anything without explicit permission.
Ash’s eyes were drawn to a large TV screen on the wall that was tuned to CNN. That anchor was interviewing a woman with swooping silver hair. Underneath her were the words MARIA VAN NESS, FOUNDER AND CEO, VAN NESS MEDIA.
“Tell me,” said the CNN anchor, “why are so many schools choosing to buy your software when there are other programs with similar functionality, often available for free?”
“Great question,” Maria Van Ness replied. “First of all, I believe our software is the best digital media software out there, probably for any market, but without a doubt for the education market. It’s functional, it’s user-friendly, and it’s well-designed. But we are targeting the education market—kids ages three through eighteen—which means we have an extra responsibility to protect our users. Sure, there’s free software available. But it’s not really free. It’s being paid for by advertising, which means users are being constantly bombarded by ads, whether they realize it or not. And not realizing it is when it’s most harmful, especially to children. Van Ness Media products are proudly free of advertising. We aim to make money by selling software, not our customers’ attention spans. That’s important to schools, and rightfully so. Our commitment to having zero advertising within our products sets us apart, and it’s helped us grow.”
Ash liked Maria Van Ness. She was poised and eloquent and clearly very smart. She seemed to really care about kids, especially when she talked about that advertising stuff. Ash imagined herself sitting across from Maria Van Ness on CNN. She’d ask about a conflict of interest when it came to Harry, and Maria Van Ness would acknowledge her wrongdoing. I am sincerely sorry for not disclosing my connection to his show, the CEO would say graciously. Thank you, Ashley, for bringing this issue to the attention of the world.
Maya tapped Ash’s shoulder, pulling her out of her daydream and back into the cold lobby. The camerawoman motioned to the far end of the room, where there was a long counter with three women behind it, two in business clothes and one in a security uniform. If Ash had any chance of turning that daydream into a reality, it would start with approaching that desk.
“Go ahead,” Olive said. “Beckett and I will wait here.”
They’ll be happy to talk to you, Ash told herself. Their company is “powered by kids’ imaginations.” She nodded at Maya, who faithfully followed her across the room.
“Can I help you?” one of the women asked.
“Um, yes. I’m Ashley Simon-Hockheimer from The Underground News. This is my friend Maya. She operates the camera.”
The receptionist raised one eyebrow over the wire frames of her large glasses. She seemed to be suppressing an amused smile, like Ash had just said her favorite food was “pasghetti.” Like having a TV show was cute. It wasn’t the right first impression from a company that taught kids how to make TV shows.
Ash stood up straighter and spoke more assertively. “We’d like to speak to someone about your feature on young creatives to watch. Would it be possible to interview Maria Van Ness?”
“You’d like to interview Maria Van Ness,” the woman said, no longer bothering to hide her amusement, “for . . . what did you say? A book report?”
Ash and Maya exchanged glances. Who said anything about a book report?
“No,” Ash said, trying to remain patient. “For our TV show. The Underground News. About your story about young creatives to watch. One of the people featured was from a show sponsored by Van Ness Media, and we think there might be a conflict of interest.”
“A conflict of interest,” the woman repeated, clearly trying to stifle a laugh.
Now Ash was getting really annoyed. This receptionist was treating her like a baby. It didn’t help that the lobby was suddenly filled with the cries of an actual baby; Beckett was trying to escape from his stroller.
The other receptionist, a redhead with straight-cut bangs, stood up. “Sorry. The CEO isn’t in the office today.”
“CEO stands for chief executive officer,” the rude receptionist explained with a patronizing smile.
“I’m sorry,” the redhead said again. “She’s actually in New York this week, doing a number of TV interviews.” The friendly receptionist motioned to the large TV screen, where Maria Van Ness was still on (live, apparently). “You can try emailing,” she continued, handing over a business card. “Or if you want to leave your own card or a note, I’ll make sure it gets to the right person.”
“Um,” Ash said. She fumbled in the pockets of her khakis, as though they might magically contain her own business card. But of course they didn’t, and Ash wasn’t sure what to do. To make matters worse, Beckett’s screams were now echoing off the concrete walls. Olive had taken him out of the stroller and was bouncing him up and down, but he was inconsolable.
“Why don’t you just write your contact info on here,” the redhead said, sliding a piece of paper and a pen across the sleek counter.
Before Ash could write anything, Olive came up behind her with a howling Beckett in her arms.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Olive said, “but this boy desperately needs a diaper change. Is there a restroom I can use?”
“To the left,” answered the rude receptionist, wrinkling her nose.
“There’s no changing table in that restroom, though,” the security guard piped up. “There’s not one on this floor at all.”
The rude receptionist sighed. But the nice one walked over to the row of security turnstiles. “Here.” She held a badge to one of the sensors, and the glass panels opened. “Go up to the fourteenth floor and make a right. There’s a really nice bathroom there, with a changing table.”
“Thank you so much,” Olive sang, hurrying through the gate. “Let’s go, Baby Beck.”
But Beckett turned in her arms and reached for Ash. “Ashee!” he cried.
The nice receptionist opened the gate again. “Go ahead.” She motioned Ash and Maya through. “Fourteenth floor.”
They all thanked her as they hurried through the gates and into the elevator, away from the rude receptionist’s look of disgust. Ash took Beckett from Olive and held his hand to the panel of buttons in the elevator. “Fourteen,” she said, pointing Beckett’s finger to the number. But he was too worked up to want to press it. Ash couldn’t blame him. Now that she was holding him herself—in an enclosed space, no less—it was very clear that his diaper was full. When the doors opened, Ash handed him back to Olive, who ran to the right, leaving the reporters to gape at the fourteenth floor.
“Holy moly,” Maya whispered. “This is the place that sponsors The News at Nine?”
Ash couldn’t believe it either. It seemed like someplace you’d have to pay to go to, not someplace that would pay you.
It was an enormous space with high ceilings, exposed brick, and shiny floors. In the center of the room, there was a U-shaped coffee bar with people making and sipping fancy drinks. To the left were different types of chairs and couches, all artfully arranged around tables of various shapes and sizes. To the right of the café were more tables, only these were for playing: Ping-Pong, billiards, and shuffleboard. Beyond that was a glass-enclosed studio where a handful of people were doing yoga. On a big screen above the coffee shop, Maria Van Ness was telling the CNN anchor that her employees’ happiness was crucial to her company’s success.
“Let’s work here when we grow up,” Maya whispered.
“Work here?” Ash said. “Let’s live here. And not just when we grow up. I’m ready to move in now.”
Maya giggled. “Imagine we just come back tomorrow with our sleeping bags?”
“Pulling suitcases.”
“Carrying artwork to hang in our new rooms.”
“And buckets of paint for our walls,” Ash said with a laugh.
“With paintbrushes and rollers!” Maya said, covering her mouth.
“Imagine the look on the receptionist’s face!” Ash said.
That was the final straw. They both burst out laughing so loudly, everyone turned to see what was going on. The girls looked frantically for a place they could duck out of view, but just like at Ash’s house, the space was so open, there was nowhere to hide.
“Follow me,” Ash said through her laughs. She walked briskly back toward the elevators. But right when she got there, the elevator doors opened and out stepped two men in coveralls carrying paint buckets, rollers, and trays. The girls started laughing so hard, they could barely breathe. Feeling the glare of every Van Ness Media employee on the fourteenth floor, Ash ran away from the café area and around the first corner she saw, Maya right at her heels. Her plan was to find the bathroom, but all she saw were offices and small meeting rooms, all with glass doors. Finally, at the end of the hall, there was a dark wooden door with no sign. It was probably a closet filled with copy paper or cleaning products, but at least they could take a minute to calm down without anyone seeing them and calling security. Ash turned the metal handle and slipped inside, Maya right behind her.
They didn’t find themselves in a storage closet at all. It was a meeting room, like the ones they’d seen through the glass doors. A few people were seated around an oval table. A woman in a suit was standing at the far end of the room, underneath two large screens. One of them was full of letters and numbers, and the other was showing a map with little dots flashing at various places on the streets.
“We can track location data too,” the woman in the suit was saying, “if children log in at home, or on our mobile apps. It’s all connected to each user’s unique profile ID—” Then she stopped, because everyone had turned to look at Maya and Ash.
Ash froze, her silliness instantly switched off.
“Can I help you?” said the man closest to the door. He had a shaved head, white glasses, and a trim beard.
“I’m sorry,” Ash said. “We were, um, looking for the bathroom.” But her eyes kept glancing at the big screen. The map. She knew those streets.
The man with the beard followed her gaze. “Turn it off,” he said sharply to no one in particular. The woman to his left started fumbling with her laptop.
Ash’s eyes moved to the other screen. It was full of text, way too much for her to read right now, let alone understand. But on the top left, in large type, were the words PROFILE ID followed by a string of letters and numbers. That must have been what the presenter had been talking about when she and Maya had barged in. Something about tracking location data and every child having a unique—
“Off!” the bearded man ordered. “Now.”
Someone pressed a button on the projector, and the screens turned blue. The bearded man looked at Ash and Maya without smiling. “Go out, make a left,” he said coldly. “At the end of the hall, make a right. The bathroom will be on your right.”
“Thank you,” Ash said. “Sorry again.”
“We’re so sorry,” Maya whispered.
The girls turned and slipped back through the door as quickly as they’d entered. They walked briskly back through the hall. Neither of them said anything, but Ash could tell that Maya’s head was spinning, just like her own, as she tried to process what they’d seen.
“There you are!” said Olive, who was waiting by the elevators. Beckett was quiet in her arms, happily munching on a rice cake. “Are you ready to go?”
Both reporters nodded silently.
“What a cool place to work, huh?” Olive said as they rode the elevator down. “It’s so big, though. I’d need a map to find my desk.”
Ash and Maya glanced at each other, and Ash knew that the only map on both their minds was the one they’d seen on that screen. The map that was tracking children’s locations. It was a map of Federal Hill.