The Doorkeeper's Mind

by E. L. Morrow

I note some lesbian tendencies. I must be careful to analyze rather than direct.

  Her willingness to take the needed time is vital. While we can still tie her sessions to her trauma, we will meet twice a week, at least for now.

  Next session: 10:00 am, Thursday, 09-30-94.

  Ava.

  Thirteen

  The Other Guys

  Pacific Coast of Costa Rica

  2094-09-28, Tuesday

  A nameless beach on the Pacific side of Costa Rica as the sun is rising. Charles Glandmore takes a blue chaise-lounge to the edge of a clump of undergrowth and shrubs. The water is 200 yards to his left. From this vantage point, he can see the ocean, the beach, and a barrier of vegetation separating the sandy area from cottages beyond. Relying on his “sixth sense” to alert him to anyone approaching from behind, he is satisfied with the location. In his lap is a book he has no intention of reading. The paperback is part of the signal, along with his once olive-green Bermuda shorts, the dingy white tee-shirt and the ragged straw hat on his head.

  He never reads the book. Even if he were inclined to peruse the first chapter, today he is consumed by his thoughts and a long-standing internal battle.

  “This is the 20th day I’ve sat here waiting for a contact. Today’s the last day. Tomorrow I split. More than a year since I killed, and a more than a month since I delivered pain to anyone. If I don’t hurt somebody soon, I might lose control and take whoever’s available. Of course, there’d be a messy death and a body to hide.

  “I’m an artist. My medium is excruciating pain. I must practice my art …. Or am I only an addict needing a fix? No matter.

  “I don’t want to practice if I’m not getting paid—too much risk. But I can’t control it much longer. The ‘impulse control’ pills quit working three days ago.

  “In the time I’ve been here eleven people walked down this stretch of sand. A beachcomber, a hobo, a couple trying to find a place for sex, four teenagers chasing each other, splashing water and throwing sand—I was never that carefree. Wonder if they actually had fun, or only pretending like everybody else.

  “And the two women with the little girl, picking up shells—probably fags. For their sake, I hope they don’t come today. I could take the women, make the kid watch, and drown the kid.

  “STOP IT. I must stop … thinking like this. I managed 45 days without inflicting before. I can do it again. Abstaining always makes the next time so much better. I will do this. Act normal, don’t fantasize about the cries of pain I could hear from that one, or the begging; ‘no more…I’ll do anything…please no more.’ I CAN’T LET MY MIND GO THERE. All my work serves a purpose—remember it puts things right again.

  “Alright, Calm down. Take a deep breath. Relax. I can wait. I will control it. Only a little longer.

  “Think about what I know. I’m safe. I was gone before they came after me. I had cash, the safe house, and an escape route. Cotton and Bluefoot also got out. Well, I think they did. It will be on the news if either of them gets pinched. But it’s not like Cotton to be out of touch this long.

  “I better plan where to go next. I’m running short of cash. I could get more, but the transaction would leave an electronic trail. Basic CIA training says be gone, when your enemy shows up. I think of Africa. A couple of civil disturbances could use my touch to make them into full-scale wars. I wonder if my arms connections are still in operation? The news would make a big deal about finding their stashes, so I guess they’re still free. But they may be afraid to do business with me, because of the indictments. I may need a go-between. Awasan was always loyal.

  “How much money will I need? I need a new phone—communicator they call them—one that’s clean—that’ll cost me. And I need clothing—got to look like those “Stupid Garments” but regular—not traceable. All that will cost $100,000, plus I need transportation and….

  “What’s this? A young girl walking on the beach, alone. Doesn’t she know there could be someone like me out here waiting for her? Now, she’s turning and walking towards me. I’m the only one on the beach. Is she a hooker, an assassin, or my contact? She’s wearing only a G-string but is holding something in her right hand… a stunner.”

  She stops four feet from his seat. Pointing the stunner directly at his chest, she reaches inside her G-string, removes a folded piece of paper, crumples it into a ball, and throws it in his general direction. Without a word, smile or any other gesture, she backs away three steps still pointing the weapon at him. Then she turns, heads around a cluster of undergrowth and disappears.

  The note is a series of integers. The book serves as the key to the code (page, line, and word numbers). “Chuck” is to meet someone at a dive two-and-a-half miles from where he is. He returns to the safe house, more of a shack, and gathers the extra socks and underwear, stuffs them in his pants, and surveys the place. To an untrained eye, no one has been here for years. He removed food from under the floorboard, burying the cans and wrappers, along with his bodily waste away from the house. He stuffed sleeping bag, pillow, and towel back in the wall each day. Gloves were worn when inside, he bathed in the ocean and ate outside—all things he had learned while undercover—how to survive for an extended period with no external support.

  After stashing the chair in the rafters and redistributing the dust on the floor, he is satisfied and walks away from the house. No vehicle, weapons, or communicator is available. Any news is overheard from the locals, or their “TVs” while he lurks in shadows.

  The meeting is at 12:30 pm local time. Glandmore arrives a minute early. There is a bar at one end with six mismatched stools, four tables with similarly eclectic chairs. Dark—only a dim light over the bar. The walls may have been painted brown in decades past, but who could tell? The floor is sticky. Only one man is in the place, at a table in the darkest corner. It takes a few seconds to recognize Cotton. No longer decked in the elegantly tailored suits and perfect hair; he sports unruly hair, a scar on his face, torn, dirty and faded denim shirt and jeans.

  Chuck reflects, “How the mighty have fallen. No longer the Research Director for the Senator who was going to put everything back the way it should be, he’s now a fugitive. We have that in common.” Chuck sits down. A sandwich and soft drink are in front of his place.

  Cotton says, “We’ve lost the Senator, or more accurately he abandoned us. The General’s mad as hell. Most of the team is gone. We’re all that’s left plus a few third stringers. We work for Big-G now—no middlemen. My brother is worthless—I cut him loose. So, we must rebuild and our priorities are different.

  “Before, The General was hot to convince the young people to vote against the Programmed States when the referendum comes up in ’99. That is now on the back burner. He says Bluefoot had put in place some electronic thing that will happen next fall, and all the money from the economy will go away. General says BF tried to keep it from him, but he couldn’t.

  “He is still itching for us to find the research center—where all those packages of stuff are ending up. There are only two packages left. The problem is we shut down all the delivery routes, so we can’t just follow one all the way to its destination.”

  “I thought he didn’t believe in their predictions of how bad those diseases will be?”

  “That’s what he wants everyone to think, but he’s certain they’re real. Don’t ask me how—but he really knows. He wants to be the hero—save the day and turn the vote, if needed. We must control the research, but with BF gone, there is no effective block in Congress to stop the info from getting out. Well, there’s still Twiddle-dee and Twiddle-dumber, but they don’t have the leverage.”

  “The General wants us to find BF. But his top priority is the girl.”

  “You mean the Door girl?”

  “Marie is her name. He wants her dead.”

  “I would enjoy doing her real slow.”

  “No! We find her. He decides how to off her. Our job is to locate. He’ll tell u
s what to do next. Big G wants information from her before he kills her.”

  “Suppose I find her, off her, and we don’t tell him.”

  “Don’t think about it. For G this one’s personal. He wants her to know who’s making her dead. She embarrassed him and cost him a lot of money. He’s got a score to settle. I wouldn’t get in his way.”

  “You ever met this General?”

  “No. Everything comes through a special coded message, or by courier. Foot knew him. He would never tell me anything about The General. It might be 15 years since BF saw him. We thought big G lived on a boat somewhere in the Pacific. Probably still does.”

  “What about all those Garment-Buster Weapons? Did they really find a way to stop them?

  “Seems like it. That’s one of the things G wants to force out of Marie—who made the hack that took the weapons out of service.

  “They’re still great weapons against everything else, so when do we get some?”

  “The General controls all those weapons, 800 at last count. His people are already working on another way to make them bust those so-called, ‘Smart Garments.’ It will be harder because we lost our contact inside the SOG production who got us the codes. So, we don’t know what changes they made.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Her—she was arrested, had her clearance revoked. She’s being held without bail. At first, The General wanted to break her out. But he realized she would be worthless in the future. She couldn’t tell him what they are doing now, or even what they did to counteract the weapon. So, he cut all ties with her, emptied her bank accounts. She’s broke, using a Public Defender. You don’t want to depend on him if you’re in a jam.

  “I moved my accounts where The General can’t reach them; I suggest you do the same when you’re able. When he’s crossed, Big-G takes back everything he can reach. He was crazy with anger when he found out BF had gotten away with all his money. Wanted to blame me for Foot getting away. I had to remind him that the guy never sleeps. G realizes he needs us.

  Well, somehow Bluefoot knew a day before the indictments came down. The rest of us had three hours, thanks to our friend in the AG’s office.”

  “So, what’s next?”

  Cotton passes a large envelope across the table.

  “Passport, new id’s, tickets, cash—I figured you’re about out. Buy new clothes that look like Smart Outer Garments but aren’t, new communicator and computer with no tracking, and we will meet in Madrid, October 10th. All the info is in here.”

  Fourteen

  Invitation

  Wichita

  2094-09-29, Wednesday, 4:20 am

  “Good Morning, Marie. This is your first wake-up call. The time is 4:20 am. Your shift begins at 5:00 am.”

  “Thank you, Friend. I’m up for the day.”

  “You have a two-hour appointment with Dr. Norris from 10:00 am. Shall I confirm?”

  “Yes. Here or at his office?”

  “He will come here. Appointment confirmed. You also have a Counseling Appointment for tomorrow at 10:00 am and Medical appointment with Dr. Kildare, Monday, October 4 at 10:00 am. Shall I confirm?”

  “Yes, both.”

  The personal assistant reports on activity at the other office as they decided to refer to the company Phillip started. Marie receives updates on the number of times her name has been mentioned in public media and news sites. “Desire is often expressed to hear more from you. Anti-Plan sites proclaim your absence as a sign you are merely a front for Pro-Structured States propaganda.”

  Work time begins as usual with Ava being the first to leave her home for work. More than the usual number of joggers drop by and linger longer. Many want to get a closer look at the young woman everyone is talking about. Some from other sectors are running with friends today and stop by as well. Marie anticipates the curiosity.

  Security 17, Dave, calls shortly after 8:00 am.

  “Hello Dave, how are you?”

  “I’m fine. Back on limited work. Two things—both from the Grand-Chief. First, he wants you to be assured that your safety is the number one priority of this district. We are monitoring your Daily Routine and providing extra support anytime you leave your home. Word has gotten around that you’re back in Wichita. We will keep the paparazzi at bay—unless you say otherwise—chief’s orders.”

  “Wait a minute…you mean I can’t have lunch with a friend without you guys swarming all around?”

  “Of course, you can. We will be out of sight. You’ll never see us.”

  “Oh, come on. You may be good, but you’re not that good. I spotted CIA trained security while out of town. She is on my side, so I’m all right with it.”

  “What can I say? We will be invisible.”

  “I’ll bet you I will spot your guys within a week. If I don’t, you and a companion of your choice get my ‘world famous’ once a year lasagna dinner.”

  “If I lose?”

  “You must eat my lasagna while wearing a leopard suit and a sign saying ‘I’m a spotted undercover cop.’”

  “You’re on. Secondly, Chief wants you to know that you were right.”

  “Oh, finally I’m right about something. What was it?”

  “Remember the guy who hit me? Well everyone wondered why my SOG did not protect me. The face shield delayed about a second before responding. The same delay was true for the protection of my ribs.”

  “Security 53 surmised the possibility of a device delaying the Smart Garment’s defenses. But nothing was found on him, and video record did not show him hiding anything during the chase. I suggested it might be in him—like a microchip.”

  “You were right. While doing medical tests on him at the prison they found and removed it. There were two: one in his earlobe the other in a thumb. He activated both by pressing his thumb against his first finger. The range is limited to a few feet. He was two feet from me when he hit me—five feet would have been too far.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad they got it. Detective 23 is acquainted with my electronics friend who would love to help decipher that thing.”

  “Our guys are working on it—they’ve already been in touch with your friend.”

  “And your recovery?”

  “I can no longer vent my spleen. It ruptured and had to be removed. My stamina isn’t back to what it used to be. Everything else is progressing. Keep the healing thoughts coming.”

  “I will. Prayers too.”

  They end the call with Marie thanking him for the update, and how he and Wessel cared for her home in her absence.

  Dr. Norris arrives at 10:00 am. Marie welcomes him, and they sit, him on the couch and her in an armchair. They discuss Marie’s trip to Canada, her stay with Dr. Throne, and the progress of the companies Phillip created.

  They talk about how Marie is handling being thrust into a CEO role. Marie affirms her confidence in those Phillip had put in place.

  Dr. Norris says, “Rudy said this place is super secure from electronic eavesdropping.”

  “True. Friend, is the dampening field activated?”

  “Affirmative,” answers PA, “no attempted audio probes have been detected since your return.”

  After a few more precautions ensuring privacy Marie’s Supervisor begins. “You are aware that each cultural sector has a guidance committee, council or team. You’re also aware that most members of those governance groups are secret—unknown to the public.”

  “Yes. That way the data gathered about operations is more trustworthy.”

  “Correct. Some sector groups developed secret societies of the most capable and respected members. Door Services possesses such a society. Ours contains 120 members from the US, Canada, England, and Japan.

  I’m empowered to offer you membership in this group. I can’t tell you the name until you accept.”

  “Well…I don’t know what to say. I am honored, but…aren’t there others who are more deserving?�
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  “More deserving? Well, some risked their lives to move packages. And others made contributions to the betterment of the DK community by being ethical and competent. But no one, not even the society’s members, has brought so much positive attention to the work of Doorkeepers.”

  “It wasn’t something I intended—it just happened.”

  “You seized the moment, took control, and elevated our role in the eyes of most citizens.”

  Marie is quiet for a moment; then begins pacing and muttering. “So, it starts again…I’m being pushed ahead of other making them jealous. I thought it would be different this time…I’d like just to be me, make some friends…not be seen as on a pedestal.”

  Still pacing she says to Dr. Norris, “You don’t understand what it’s like…I’m always being singled out for something, and that’s usually all right, but it puts walls between my peers and me. All my true friends are much older. I’ve never been asked on a date; when I ask a guy, he gets all tongue-tied and eventually makes an excuse. I was hoping—with a new start in a new place—to have a chance to be thought of as a person, not that special girl. You don’t get what you’re asking me to give up….”

  “How dare you. You think you’re the only one with no social life? You think you are the only one who’s lonely? Open your eyes. I was the smart kid who never played baseball or hung out with the guys. When I started asking girls to a dance or on a date, I got the deer in the headlight look while they thought up some excuse. Allison was the only woman who ever gave me a chance to be a person.

  “Ever wondered why I’m always available for dinner or a meeting? No social life exists for me. If it weren’t for our weekly staff meeting, some of the supervisors wouldn’t even acknowledge my presence. Yes, that’s right—the Supervisors, ‘the feared ones,’ are afraid of me—the Dean of Supervisors. Don’t tell me I don’t understand. Talk to me when you are my age.”

  “I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime. The opportunity to be part of the group who will make a real difference in the world. You’re acting like I asked you to stand before a firing squad.