by J D Huffman
Devon couldn’t read her tone that time. Did she really care, or was she only asking because she thought she had to? He just smiled. “What do you mean? Nothing’s going on.”
“You’ve been staring right through me for five minutes,” she noted. Her voice began calmly, with hints of anger bubbling up as she went. “But it’s fine. Everything’s fine, isn’t it? You say it’s fine, so it has to be fine. I don’t know who you are anymore, but it’s fine. You won’t talk to me, but it’s fine. It’s obvious to me that you still aren’t getting the help you need, but it’s fine, your job needs you a thousand miles away to work on God knows what. They can’t spare Devon Engels so he can get himself right, but it’s fine. It’s all fine, isn’t it?” By the time she finished, her face was red and she was clutching her PMD so tightly Devon was sure he’d hear it crack and splinter any second.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied. “But I need to start packing.”
Which he did. He didn’t know how much to pack, exactly—how long am I going to be in Seattle, anyway?—so he threw a week’s worth of clothes into a suitcase and figured he’d do laundry if the need arose, he’d be back before it came to that, or he wouldn’t be back at all. The latter possibility didn’t scare him as much as he expected. He thought very little about his exchange with Meghan in the living room, where she’d all but told him to get out of the house and get out of her life. If I have nothing to come back to, it doesn’t matter if I come back at all, does it?
He wished he could have told her. He wished he could have told anyone. But the mysterious man was clear, and Devon was inclined to believe him. “I can get to anyone, at any time, any way I choose. I got to you, didn’t I?” Devon couldn’t argue with that. The man had circumvented SINAI’s facility security, knew Devon’s movements, knew details that no one but Devon himself should have possessed. He couldn’t take the risk that the man wasn’t bluffing.
Devon’s PMD awoke him early the next morning with its gently-escalating alarm. It began with a quiet set of chimes, gradually growing louder and more dissonant the longer he ignored it. It had become quite obnoxious by the time he finally silenced the thing. He sat up on the sofa and massaged his eyes with one hand before picking up the PMD to confirm his flight information. He nodded as he saw everything had been prepared for him. In three hours, he would be on his way to Seattle, to whatever awaited him there. He’d been given the address of a cafe not far from the SINAI office in Seattle, no doubt his immediate destination after arriving to receive further instructions and information.
Flying was nothing new to him, and he barely paid attention as he checked his bag, droned through his answers to the security questionnaire, and strolled to the appropriate gate. Soon, he was aboard a jumbo jet, eyes fixed on the view out the window, taking in the lights of the city as he left it behind. He remembered flying with Meghan—they’d taken a couple vacations abroad in their time together, during those scant periods when they could both get some time off. The first time, they went to Seoul, as Devon always had a fascination with enormous, high-tech cities, and they didn’t get much bigger or more technological than Seoul. It had expanded massively after reunification, when hordes of northerners flocked to the city for opportunity and prosperity. Great expenditures were made building the city up and out even more than in the past, and this transformation was more or less complete by the time Devon and Meghan walked the city’s streets. Devon found it fortunate that the city did such a good job of lighting itself, since in many areas the buildings were so tall, so tightly clustered, they virtually blotted out the sun. It was like a perpetual twilight. He found it at least a little bit romantic, but Meghan disagreed. She got to pick their next vacation, which was to the Maldives. Somewhat like Seoul, the islands’ cities had grown up, as well, but out of geological necessity rather than population pressure: the islands were being engulfed by rising sea levels. Streets were replaced with canals, and favorable comparisons to Venice were made. Devon had to admit it was prettier, at least.
The memories depressed him now, as he imagined he’d never have any more with Meghan—or at all. He used to enjoy riding on planes, chatting with whoever sat nearby, relaxing with the gentle whir of the engines. Now, he couldn’t wait for the flight to be over, so he could get to whatever came next. In fact, he wanted everything to be over, to be at the end of whatever this chapter of his life entailed, even if it was his last. He was tired of feeling like a crazy person, of being unable to tell anyone what was happening to him, of having no one believe him, and of being alone. Most of all, he was tired of being tired. His sleep was restless and far from adequate, either because he kept tossing on the living room sofa or because too many things preoccupied his mind—probably both.
But in time, the plane touched down in the cool, wet city, and he gathered up his belongings, claimed his suitcase, and took a taxi to the little coffee house designated for him. No one gave him a second look, not with his grim demeanor and disheveled appearance. His presence went nearly unnoticed as he sat outside at a round table beneath a yellow, red, and white umbrella. He waved off a barista who came by to ask his order. He didn’t know if that meant she’d be back, or if he’d scared her off for good. It turned out not to matter, as his “friend” arrived before long. The man pulled up a chair, sat in it sideways, and draped his left arm over the back. “I’m glad to see you made it.”
“I don’t need a friendly greeting. I just need to know what I’m here for.”
“We’ve already discussed that. You must learn more about Project Mu. Files, schematics, whatever you can find.”
“I already told you they denied my transfer. How am I supposed to get in? They aren’t expecting me.”
The man nodded. “I’ve already devised a cover story for you. In fact, I went to the trouble of making it more than a cover. SINAI is experiencing some intermittent network failures today. You’ve been sent from the satellite office across town to take a look. I’ve prepared a security credential for you. All you need to do is act the part and find what I need.”
Devon leaned his elbows on the table, staring at him. “If you can do all that, why can’t you just do this yourself?”
He shook his head. “I can’t risk being compromised in such a way. There’s information I have that your bosses would love to get their hands on, believe me. I can’t allow that. You, on the other hand—no offense—know next to nothing. Besides that, if you’re caught, it’s likely you’d merely be fired. A far worse fate would be in store for me.”
Devon had to laugh at the use of “merely.” Do I even care if I get fired anymore? I’ve lost everything else. Who gives a fuck about my job at this point? Might as well go all-in. “Fine, I’ll do it. But when it’s over, you have to level with me. I want to know everything about what you do, why you want this information—all of it. No more half-truths, no more bullshit. I’m tired of being your lapdog. I’m losing almost everything I care about for this, and you’re going to give me some fucking closure.”
“Once you’ve done what you came here to do, I won’t have any need to be so secretive,” the man assured him. “Do your job, and I’ll tell you what you want to know. Remember, though, I need specifics: what is Project Mu? Where is it being carried out? When? By whom? I need the critical details so I can observe it firsthand, and intervene if necessary.”
“Do you think it will be necessary?” Devon had to ask.
The man held Devon’s gaze as he spoke. “I have no doubt.”
Reluctantly, Devon left his luggage with his handler after changing in the cafe’s restroom. He put on one of his dark blue suits, something nice and professional which would hopefully attract few curious questions. The man fed the proper security data into Devon’s PMD and sent him on his way to SINAI’s downtown office. Devon had to whistle as he stepped out and saw the menagerie of glass and steel. It looked almost like a spider growing out of the heart of
the city, sleek, shiny legs extending overhead. He couldn’t imagine how much it must have cost to build something so extravagant—it was nothing like the Chicago office, which had a much more utilitarian character. Devon wondered if it was meant to evoke imagery of SINAI’s technology creeping into all corners of the world’s networks. If that was the intention, they succeeded almost too well, he thought. He stood there, just staring for a couple minutes, before he remembered why he was there. Carrying a small toolkit in one hand and his PMD in the other, he approached the front doors of the elaborate structure, which slid out of his way as he came near. He strolled up to the circular front desk, where several individuals sat answering calls and speaking with other visitors. A lot of people moved about the cavernous lobby, which made him nervous. What if someone here knows my face?
He stepped up to the round desk, standing in front of a woman who didn’t look too busy. “Welcome to SINAI Headquarters. How may I help you?” she beamed up at him.
“I was sent from across town to investigate your technical issues,” he said, handing over his PMD which had a false name and security code displayed on it.
She looked it over and, to his relief, didn’t find anything amiss. “This all looks to be in order. Do you know your way around?”
“Yeah,” he lied. He’d been too stressed out by the thought of coming here to do something simple or obvious like study a building schematic. He imagined he wouldn’t have retained any of it, anyway, given how complicated the building looked. “Would you mind loading a floor plan onto my PMD just to be on the safe side, though?” he asked sheepishly.
She didn’t seem the least bit bothered. Rather, she appeared quite happy to help. “Of course! I can do that.” It took her only a moment, and then there was an interactive diagram of the whole building on his portable device. He did everything he could not to breathe an obvious sigh of relief, holding it in until he’d walked away from the desk. He knew his face must have turned quite red by now, and he just hoped everyone was too busy to notice.
He walked over to a corner, away from all the hustle and bustle, so he could concentrate on the diagram. Spinning it around and zooming with the motions of his fingers, he tried to determine where the most sensitive records might be kept. He assumed they would be kept off the network, perhaps only as hard copies, behind multiple security measures. He hoped his credentials would be enough to get him close. I’ll just have to have a little faith that he’s not deliberately trying to get me killed.
With some examination, he determined that the top five floors of the building were for administration and executive management. Offices of SINAI’s top people were arranged in a spiral on those levels, with a central elevator shaft providing access. Just below those was a floor marked “CENTRAL RECORDS.” Devon couldn’t tell from the diagram if those records took up the entire floor in a single room, or if the floor plan for that level was kept secret, and he wasn’t sure which would be the better option for his situation.
I’ll just have to see for myself, he knew, strolling past the reception area to a bank of elevators. Stepping inside one that had three men and a woman in it, all attired in suits, he tried to look nonchalant as he leaned forward to press the number 20, which signified Central Records. It lit only momentarily. He noticed other buttons were lit: 15, 22, 23. Why won’t this one come on?
One of the men—a gray-haired fellow with sagging jowls and a slight smile—appeared to capture Devon’s immediate predicament. “You trying to get to 20, son?”
“Uh, yes, sir,” he nodded.
“Central Records? You need a special fob for that,” he calmly explained.
Devon pulled up the security information his handler had put on his PMD, turned, and showed the man. “Is this not enough to let me in?”
The man leaned forward, squinting at the screen for a moment, then straightened his back. He shook his head. “No, son, I mean a physical key. That floor’s locked up tight. What business do you have there?”
“I’m here to fix the network issues you’ve been having.”
“We’re having network issues?” he blinked, turning his generous frame slightly from side to side. “I just got back from lunch so I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that.”
“It’s been going on all day,” the woman chimed in with a sigh. Looking at Devon, she wondered, “Why do you need to get into Central Records, though? It’s not part of the network.”
“No, but some of the network equipment runs through that level,” Devon stated confidently. “I’ve checked some of the other floors and not found the problem yet. I need to be thorough.”
The third person on the elevator—the other man—finally spoke up. “I thought the problem was outside our network. We’re having trouble getting data in and out. Inside the building, I thought everything was fine?”
“Well, these problems can be very sporadic and hard to track down,” Devon dissembled. “You might think the issue is on the outward-facing hardware but it could be an internal routing defect. Networking is funny that way.”
“I’m not stupid,” the man scoffed. “I know more than a little about this stuff.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t,” Devon said, holding up his hands apologetically. “Look, I just need to get to that floor. If I can’t, that’s fine. I’ll try to track this down elsewhere.” I definitely don’t want anyone going out of their way to get me in. The more people who become aware of my presence here, the more likely I am to get caught. “I appreciate all of you trying to help me. I’ll just get off on 19 and go from there,” he said, pushing in the proper button.
The man who’d spoken last exited onto floor 15, giving Devon a suspicious eye as he walked by. Devon didn’t glance back at the other two once he departed on the 19th floor. According to the diagram, 19 was for customer support as well as the location of several large meeting rooms. He saw and heard dozens of representatives chattering away on their phones, helping customers with whatever problems the automated troubleshooting systems couldn’t solve. He knew SINAI went out of their way to keep customers from getting to an actual, breathing human when they called. This floor, then, was for the truly clever ones who managed to get through, like a rat finding the cheese at the end of a maze. On the other hand, speaking to a person reading from a script who may not know anything outside of that was probably less enjoyable than eating a cheese wedge.
The workers on this floor took no notice of Devon’s presence, for which he was grateful. He walked past row after row of identical workstations. The workers in this area were not dressed in suits but uniforms: polo shirts emblazoned with the company logo, dark pants, and black loafers. He was thankful that he never had to dress so precisely at the Chicago office—a function of his position and salary, he knew. These people are probably paid next to nothing, and totally replaceable. I’m at least a little harder to replace, aren’t I? He supposed he wouldn’t be around to find out.
He stole off to a quiet corner again—this time, a part of the wall that was recessed between a couple of elevators in a different area of the floor—and pulled out his PMD, further studying the diagram. Let’s see. Elevators are out for getting to the 20th floor. Stairs are for emergency access only—they’ve got alarms tied to their doors. His eyes moved to the ceiling. Air ducts are too small to fit me. It’s never like in movies or games, is it? He sighed to himself. If I can’t use the ducts or stairs then I don’t have any other choice, do I? I have to find a way to use the elevator. That man said you need a physical key fob. I don’t have a good way to bypass something like that. But the elevator probably has an emergency hatch on top. Would that work? Pull the emergency stopper on this floor after the doors close, climb on top of the elevator, find a way to get the door open on 20? He decided it was worth a try.
As he moved toward one of the elevators, the doors slid open and the man who’d given him the suspicious look earlier stepped out, st
aring him right in the face. “You. What are you doing?” The man glanced up and down Devon’s form. “Is this how you fix a broken network? Standing around?”
“No. I’m on my way to another floor,” Devon said. That much was true.
“I suggest you hurry up. A lot of people can’t get their work done because of this.” He waved his arm in the direction of the dozens of customer service reps. “See all these people? A lot busier than usual. The call queue is saturated. Customers on hold for over an hour. We’re going to lose business. Get a move on! I don’t care who you are, just fix it.“ He stared at Devon, waiting for him to do something.
Great. How am I supposed to work with this asshole watching me? He went for the elevator and decided to send it up to the 21st floor. He was unable to keep the doors shut once there, and five more people piled into the cell-like elevator. Devon started to sweat. This is never going to work. Moving himself toward the back, he simply rode the contraption up and down for a while, as people got on and off, waiting for it to eventually empty. After a good fifteen minutes or so, he found himself alone as the elevator emptied onto the 14th floor. He pressed the button for 21, finally, and kept his index and ring fingers hooked around the emergency stop plunger, prepared to pull it as soon as he was just past the 19th floor.