The File

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The File Page 4

by Michael D. Britton

NI account unless I get some business from them. For all I know, you’re just stringing me along. I have to get a sale from your leads or you get nothing but a useless File in your head with no way to use it. Got it?”

  Devin pondered for a moment. “Fine. I’m pretty confident that you’ll manage to get a sale from at least one of the people I know. In fact, I’ll make it easy for you – I’ll introduce you to them all at once. The group I have in mind meets regularly. I’ll take you there after my File is installed and you can give ‘em your sales pitch.”

  “Kid, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  ۞

  A month had passed since her father’s admonition to the cell to recruit new members. Mikayla expected tonight’s meeting to have a newcomer or two, but was surprised when five new people showed up, accompanied by current members. Among them was Sascha LeBruin, who’d been invited by Abby. Mikayla stood near the door with her favorite rifle, a self-appointed guard, and watched as her father worked his way around the room introducing himself.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Kyle, extending his hand to Sascha. “We’re glad you could make it.”

  “Glad to be here,” said Sascha.

  “Sorry about the security measures at the door. We just can’t be too careful these days.”

  Kyle was referring to the use of an antique scanning wand, used to frisk anyone who came in and make sure they did not have any electronic devices embedded in their bodies, namely a File in their head.

  “I understand totally,” said Sascha. “The security measure may keep the group safer, but it also makes me feel better. After all, I don’t know any of you people either.”

  “Well, we’re all looking forward to changing that,” said Kyle with a smile. “Tonight our group has grown by twenty-five percent. It’s really pretty exciting.”

  Kyle moved away and shook hands with each of the other newcomers. Mikayla didn’t like the way Kyle and Sascha had looked at each other. Something inside her triggered a mild sense of revulsion. She caught herself frowning and considered her own feelings. It’s silly to be jealous, she chided herself. I didn’t even know Mom. Dad deserves to be happy. Maybe one day he will find someone, and that will be perfectly alright. I can’t be the lone female in this family forever.

  As she stewed in such thoughts, she rested her weapon on her shoulder and wandered back to her room to write her musings in her journal. As she closed her door, she heard a tap at her window. She squeezed her rifle tightly and lowered it toward the window before realizing who was behind the glass.

  “Devin!” she exclaimed in a whispered voice. She rushed to the window, keyed in the security code, and threw up the sash. “Devin, you’re back!” she said with a grin. Then her cautious nature took over. “Were you followed?”

  “No. But I brought someone who’s interested in joining the cell,” he said, feeding her E’s cover story. “Dad’s holding a meeting tonight, right? What are the chances of us getting in?”

  “Actually, pretty good. There’s a new initiative to increase membership. There’s a bunch of new people here tonight. But you’ll have to go around to the front door. Nobody gets in without passing through the security station.”

  “Fair enough. See you in a minute, sis.”

  As Devin slid back through the bushes, Mikayla locked the window and made her way back to the basement. A few moments later, the doorbell rang, and she took her father’s arm, leading him up the stairs to answer the door.

  “What’s this about, Mikayla?” asked Kyle. “We already have someone manning the door.”

  “I think we should answer it this time,” she said.

  As they reached the top of the stairs, they saw another newcomer being scanned for a File. The unfamiliar man stepped aside to reveal Devin, who was also scanned.

  Kyle wordlessly moved to the door and embraced his son. After a long hug, he withdrew and said, “You’re not supposed to be here. Were you followed? And who is this?”

  “No, Dad, I wasn’t followed. And this is a new recruit.”

  The stranger stepped toward Kyle and extended his large, scarred hand. “I’m Ezra,” he said. “I’ve come to learn more about your group, and join, if - if you’ll let me.”

  Kyle looked him over. The man’s trench coat was dirty and stained. Underneath the coat he wore a crisp white tuxedo shirt and blue jeans that bunched up around his scuffed army boots. His angular jaw was covered with about three days growth of stubble, and his hair appeared to be a stranger to any form of grooming.

  “Are they both clear?” Kyle finally asked the cell member manning the door security station.

  “That new guy is clean, but your son has a File. But it’s giving no other readings, like it’s just a dead chip.”

  “Dad, I did get a File installed, but it hasn’t been activated. It’s just cold hardware. There’s no way I could’ve been traced here.”

  “Well, then we should be fine. And Ezra, it looks like you’ve come at the right time,” Kyle said. “We’re just getting started, and today we’re welcoming a number of new people. Come on downstairs.” He looked at Devin. “You realize that some people here are going to have a problem with you being here.”

  Devin nodded and looked at his feet.

  “But we’ll work it out,” said Kyle with a small smile. “I’m glad you came back, son.”

  ۞

  As they were led downstairs, Devin whispered to Ezra, “You don’t even have your own File?”

  “Kid,” said Ezra, “it’s the oldest rule of the street. A smart dealer never uses his own junk – not if he wants to get rich and stay alive.”

  Once in the basement, Hendricks took a seat in the group of Underground cell members. It wasn’t his first time at such a meeting. Infiltrating these gatherings had become second nature to him. And getting past security was as easy as walking though a door. His File was cloaked with a sensory dampening field that masked it from detection by any security measures. The top-secret device was only provided to the most experienced agents.

  He sat and listened to the meeting, memorizing the face of each participant and cataloguing it along with their comments. There was quite a brouhaha over the return of his young acquaintance, Devin. Returning to the fold with a File was a severe breach of security protocols, and several cell members made their strong feelings known.

  “This is entirely unacceptable,” said Tom. “Now what are we going to do? We may be compromised. We need to initiate protocol three.”

  “Hold on,” said Fred. “Do you know what kind of disruption it will cause if we do that? Disbanding, relocating and joining other cells is not the answer, here. Besides, you heard what Kyle said, the File is not even active.”

  “We may have grown informal over the years, Fred,” said Tom, “but the charter is the charter. That File could be activated at any time. We just can’t risk discovery as a result of a stupid decision on the part of Devin.”

  Kyle’s brow furrowed as he heard Tom refer to Devin. He felt torn between his paternal protectionism and the fact that Tom was right: Devin had done a stupid thing. He just wished his son had never left in the first place. But he also knew wishes were not going to get them out of this mess.

  “Listen,” he said, “maybe we need to rethink the charter. In the beginning, the rules made sense. But things have changed over the years. Maybe there’s another way to approach the problem.”

  “Things have changed, alright,” Tom shot back, “they’ve gotten more dangerous. If anything, now is the time we should be clinging more closely to the protocols that we designed to keep us safe. Don’t let your emotions overrule logic, Kyle. He’s your son, but as far as this cell is concerned, he’s a traitor.”

  The room erupted in a chorus of conflicting shouts, as several people came to Devin’s defense and traded words with a few who joined in Tom’s sentiment.

  “People! People!” yelled Kyle, h
olding up his hands. “Everybody shut up for a minute. Now Tom, you’re right about one thing – things are more dangerous now. But the world is different than it was fifteen or twenty years ago when these cells were first gaining traction. Look around you. We’ve increased our ranks. Tonight alone, we’ve gained six more people. People who are tired of being slaves to technology. No, we’re not Luddites, like the establishment would have the world believe. We don’t mind certain levels of technology. Heck, I’m a techie myself. But we will not lie down and let the government dictate to us how we are to live our lives. The reason we are here in this group is that we don’t want to let a representative body mandate that we alter our bodies and minds to fit in with their version of Utopia. If we start ruling our own group with such an iron hand, we become no better than them. Besides – things are indeed changing. Our push to grow in membership, and the cooperation that’s developing between cells indicates to me that a paradigm shift of great magnitude is on the horizon. I wouldn’t be surprised if the day comes, maybe even before the next election, that we can emerge from the shadows and participate as full, respected, and legal members of society. If we disband and regroup elsewhere, that will only slow down our efforts, Tom. We need to forge ahead, not move backwards. We need to stand up now, not continue to cower, waiting to be crushed by the BCC. Don’t you agree,

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