by Britt Ringel
She’d been forced to wear a medical gown and was unsurprised by the fierce revulsion it had given her. She’d awakened her first night in Shantytown in similar attire. Once the doctor had concluded his exam, she didn’t wait for permission to change quickly back into her clothes.
Ten minutes later, the doctor returned. He tapped his handheld to activate a large screen in front of the bed and a generic outline of a female form appeared. “Miss Smith, your fingers have healed. You may experience some stiffness but that won’t persist longer than a couple of days. Your ribs are also coming along nicely. There will continue to be some discomfort but it will lessen every day. Your corporate records indicate you’ve been moved to an office job but I’ve advised that should that change, you’re still restricted to light duty for another week.”
The generic display transformed into the resonance image of a detailed brain scan. “Judging by these results and your symptoms, you most certainly suffered a grade three concussion last week.” The man eyed Kat. “Have you had any bouts of dizziness, blurred vision or confusion?”
Kat shook her head. “None,” she lied. During her first exam, she had decided not to share her amnesia with him.
“That’s amazing. Those are very common symptoms for a traumatic head injury like the one you’ve suffered.” He pointed to various areas on the right side of the image. “The parietal lobe and hippocampus are slowly healing but these things take time and there is some unfortunate scarring. The synaptic pathways are strengthening compared to the prior scan. That’s a good indicator of a partial to full recovery.” He closed the image and the screen darkened. “Over the next week, try not to strain yourself. You may not be feeling the injury’s effects but your body certainly is. Limit your mental and physical stress as much as possible.”
The doctor moved to Kat’s side and placed a hand on her knee. “Miss Smith, I recommended at least one more follow-up appointment. Regrettably, your employer won’t pay for it.” The man winced slightly. “Can you afford another visit? It won’t be cheap, I’m afraid.”
Kat shook her head but said nothing. She realized her nature was to never volunteer information to a doctor.
The man lightly patted her knee. “I understand. I’ll have the nurse give you a set of instructions and a list of symptoms to watch for. If you experience anything on the list, you should come back.” He moved away from the bed and toward the door. “Most likely you’ll recover completely but there’s always a chance of complications. Just monitor yourself and you should be fine.” He opened the door and began to exit before shuffling to a stop. He turned back to Kat. “I’m forwarding your medical records to an associate in Northport. He’s a neurologist and he’s willing to look at your scans without cost. They’re very unusual.” He smiled. “Of course, as I said during your last visit, neurology isn’t my specialty so I might be overreacting. I’m sure it’s nothing to be concerned about. Good day, Miss Smith, and take care.”
Kat stepped out of the hospital twenty minutes later with several pages of treatment instructions and a point of contact in the hospital should her symptoms grow worse. The lack of revelations disappointed her. Granted, she’d kept her amnesia a secret but nothing the doctor had said shed light on whether her memory would improve, stay the same or get worse. Maggie Reynolds had been far more reassuring.
The dispatching of her records to a specialist in Northport was even more troubling but she’d had no plausible grounds to object. Could a dedicated neurologist detect her psionic abilities by looking at her brain scan?
It was approaching one o’clock in the afternoon. The hospital had extended her visa by two hours, giving her plenty of time to walk back to Shantytown. Kat lifted her head to the brilliant, blue sky and sighed. She’d hoped for answers and none had come. Worse, this was her final appointment, forever leaving the status of her scorched brain a mystery.
She descended the steps and started for her destination. She was half a block from the main offices of Porter Mining before she even realized it. Waytown Standard may have been a bust but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make progress elsewhere. She’d promised Sadler not to snoop in Porter’s office but perhaps she could speak with his mother. Surely just introducing myself can’t do any harm, she reasoned. Her pace picked up, eager to be proactive. I’m tired of waiting for answers or for bits of luck to come my way. A fleeting thought failed to stem her resolve. He said to let her “come to terms with us” on her own, but she hasn’t even met me. I never promised I wouldn’t talk to her. He won’t be mad. Besides, it’s better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.
Porter Mining Headquarters was a three-story building of glass and alloy. Gleaming brightly under the direct rays of the overhead sun, the structure appeared to glow from within. Unlike the first time Kat had been here, there was no additional security monitoring the front. She simply walked to the main doors and waved her wristwrap under the terminal to gain admittance.
Inside, a visitor’s desk blocked deeper access to the building. A security guard drifted around the room eyeing new arrivals while the receptionist, impeccably dressed and immaculately groomed, smiled widely. “Good afternoon, welcome to Porter Mining Enterprises. How may I help you?” The man’s meticulously maintained beard clearly marked him as a citizen.
Kat steeled herself and approached the counter brimming with false confidence. “Hello. Kat Smith here for Ms. Wess, Vice President of Finance.”
The receptionist rocked back at the assertion but maintained his practiced smile. He consulted his touchscreen even as his brow furrowed. “Ma’am, I’m not showing an appointment. Are you sure you have the right person?”
Kat waved off his concern casually. “The appointment isn’t listed but she’ll see me.” She gestured toward the comm unit on his counter. “Check,” she insisted.
The man wavered. “I’m… not sure bothering a VP is a good idea.” He hesitated before returning to his touchscreen. “Let me try Brooke.” After several quick taps, a stunning blonde appeared on the screen. Her hazel eyes oozed a confident sensuality.
“What is it, Mark?” Her voice was full, almost luxuriantly rich, and held an accent unique for Waytown.
Northportian. Kat made the identification and realized that she must have spent time there.
“Brooke, a Miss Kat Smith is here, requesting Ms. Wess. Do you have it on her schedule?”
The woman looked away from the screen. After several seconds, she replied, “No. Ms. Wess is taking her lunch right now in her office. After that is a comm conference with the other VPs to Northport.” Her accent made her sound elegant, refined.
“Thank you.” Mark disconnected and returned his gaze to Kat. “I’m sorry. Perhaps you can reschedule your appointment another time.” He placed emphasis on the last words.
Kat noticed the guard walking toward her with a gait that bespoke anticipation. She quickly poured poise into her voice. “Mark, I’m the new receptionist at the mine. You and I are on the same team.” She leaned over the counter to close the distance between them. “I really need to see Ms. Wess about the dayshift foreman.” She reached out, flirtatiously touching his arm while flashing her brightest smile. “Can you do me this small favor and just check with her? I know she’ll want to see me.” She threw him a confident wink. “And I’d owe you, Mark. Maybe someday you’ll need a favor at the mines and you’d know exactly who to call.” She let her smile crease the corners of her mouth and tilted her head coquettishly.
The man vacillated. “It’s her lunch hour…”
“Exactly, she’s not in conference or working. It wouldn’t be an interruption. I’m just asking for five minutes of her time.” Kat touched the man briefly again. “You’re the only one who can help me, Mark.” She laughed lyrically and kept eye contact. “Surely you can give her a quick call without Porter Mining Enterprises grinding to a complete halt?”
The man inhaled deeply. “I’ll just reach out quickly. We receptionists have to stick togeth
er.” His fingers swam over the screen.
Seconds later, a curt voice answered, “Yes?”
Mark cleared his throat. “Ma’am, it’s Mark from ground floor reception. There’s a Kat Smith wishing to talk to you about…” He looked up at Kat anxiously.
“The new dayshift foreman,” she provided.
“The new dayshift foreman, ma’am,” Mark parroted. “Do you have time to see her?”
Kat’s heart raced while she waited for the answer. It came after a long pause. “That’s fine, Mark. Send her up to Brooke.” The call terminated.
Mark smiled widely at Kat. “Success!” He stood up and reached out to shake her hand. “It was nice meeting you. Maybe we’ll talk again soon.”
Kat shook his hand and thanked him effusively. “I better get going,” she said as she broke away. “I don’t want to keep her waiting.” She walked briskly past the counter and toward the single elevator meters away. To the right of the elevator doors was a staircase. She decided to wait for the lift, not wanting to dash up the stairs and appear breathless as she made her first impression on Sadler’s mother. Kat was already nervous enough.
The ride was short and she soon stepped into a small, deserted hallway. To her immediate left was the terminus of the stairs from the ground floor below. Opposite them, the hall extended and turned right. She rounded that corner and came to double glass doors. Inside was another, smaller reception area. She pushed through the doors and surveyed the room.
It was lavishly decorated with a pair of impressive doors leading to different conference rooms. The “Coldbarrow Room” was to Kat’s left and extended down the west side of the building. The entrance to the “Northport Room” was across from where she stood. A corridor bisected the reception area, leading deeper east and west. To Kat’s right, an elaborately curved counter held equipment similar to her own desk, including a Vox device used to talk to foremen deep in the mine. I guess it makes sense that the main office would have a way to speak directly to anyone they need. The receptionist, with upswept blonde hair and impeccable makeup, sat behind the desk nodding attentively at the room’s third occupant. Kat shifted her gaze from the desk to the standing woman and met her eyes. Green, just like Sadler’s.
Aileth Wess was statuesque but she projected a presence far more imposing than her height. Sandy brown hair ended abruptly in a bob that grazed her sharp jaw. Green eyes gazed out from a shockingly pale face. The eyes were the color of a lush forest, evoking a place anyone could get lost in if they stayed too long. She wore a charcoal-colored suit, striking an impressive figure in pants that tapered to conservative black shoes without a heel.
Kat’s eyes had traveled the entire length of the woman’s body. Catching herself, she brought them back up to Aileth’s eyes and saw them staring back at her. The look on the executive’s face wasn’t adversarial but contained profound judgment.
“Kat Smith, I presume,” Aileth said formally. She turned to walk down the east hallway without waiting. “Follow me, please.”
Kat shot a nervous glance toward Brooke. The receptionist became suddenly engrossed in her deskwork. In that time, Aileth had already slipped from sight and Kat had to trot to catch her. She recognized the power move but still couldn’t save herself from becoming a minion struggling to keep up with her master.
As she pursued Aileth, habit had her counting doors and reading nameplates and placards as she passed them. They walked past a Communications Room, a Lounge and Suite 301 belonging to one Mr. Elliot Hannover before a short dogleg left took them to Suites 302 and 303. Kat spied a balding man talking furiously at a comm unit through the open door of 303 while Aileth walked into 302 and to her large desk. Kat tripped to a stop at the threshold.
“Come in,” the woman beckoned.
The office sported warm colors and rich furniture befitting a vice president. The matching pieces were a dark wood. Mahogany, Kat guessed, or at least a very convincing synthetic fashioned to appear as such. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped two sides of the corner office providing a splendid view of Waytown’s small central business district. Beyond that view, however, she could see the wall dividing the town from the slums and even glimpses into Shantytown itself. How inconvenient for her, Kat thought humorlessly.
“Water?” Aileth made the offer with a wave of her hand before dropping it to the surface of her desk. Inlaid into the wood was a touchscreen. She pressed a manicured finger to its surface. “Brooke, bring the pastries from the Coldbarrow Room, please.” She looked back to Kat. “Please. Sit down.” The benign words had been broken into a pleasantry and a command.
Kat sat.
Aileth did too.
Both women stared at each other in silence. Time stretched out to tickle Kat like an itch she couldn’t scratch. Finally, Brooke entered with a tray. The receptionist rushed to place the selection of pastries on a sideboard running under the east windows. “These were the best of the group, Ms. Wess.”
“Thank you, Brooke.”
The beautiful receptionist nearly curtsied like a serf before fleeing the room.
Aileth continued her measured gaze on Kat. “Pick something, dear. I don’t wish to eat alone.”
Kat finally broke eye contact and noticed the woman’s lunch on the large desk for the first time. It was in a packaged container with a restaurant’s logo she couldn’t quite read. “Thank you,” she said as she rose. Her hand wavered over the tray with uncertainty. She decided on a scone with deep red berries baked into it. After returning to her seat, she took a bite. The fruit was raspberries, decadently delicious.
“How old are you, Kat?”
Kat quickly chewed and swallowed. She ran her tongue over the front of her teeth before answering. “Twenty-five.” She was grateful that she knew the answer to the basic question. She groped for a question of her own but came up empty.
“Practically a spinster for a Trodden,” Aileth noted without emotion. “Any marriage on record?”
Kat coughed. “No!” she replied, a little too forcefully.
“But you’ve had a husband before. How did you meet him?”
Kat shook her head. “I’ve never been married.” At least, I highly doubt it.
The corner of Aileth’s mouth quirked. “How have you survived?”
Kat felt heat begin to build at the insinuation. “You’re no longer married, Ms. Wess. How have you survived?”
Eyebrows shot skyward at the riposte. The executive’s voice grew cold. “By working my ass off in a university and then clawing my way through lower, then middle and ultimately upper management.” She leaned back in her plush chair and crossed her legs. The silence extended between them again.
Kat’s stomach began performing flip-flops. She’d made a major mistake in coming here. The woman’s acerbic answer had left her directionless. I’m here to charm her, not argue with her. She raised a hand in surrender. “Ms. Wess, I didn’t come here to—”
“I’m still waiting for an answer, Kat.” Aileth’s voice was dead steady. “How have you survived Shantytown for twenty-five years?”
I haven’t. The truth is I’ve barely survived Shantytown for a month. “I… I worked as a doctor’s assistant in the Beggar’s Market before the mine.”
“For twenty-five years?” Aileth shot back. She crossed her arms and tilted her head. The angle gave her an imperious mien.
“No.” Kat noticed that the woman had yet to touch her lunch. Perhaps she had lost her appetite too.
Aileth swiveled in her chair to face the northern windows. “When my Sadler was seven years old, he came upon a kitten cornered by three alley dogs.” Her voice grew distant in remembrance. “We were in Northport at the time, living in the Rookery District. Thomas was fighting in the war and it was just Sadler and me. Times were… difficult.” Her head tilted toward Kat. “I gather that it may be hard to understand that even citizens can suffer, but we did. I was a mere Project Assistant at Porter Power and we were living hand to mouth. I’m sure you can unders
tand the fear that comes with that.”
Long arms unfolded and she reached to her desk. Thin fingers wrapped around a glass of water and she stared into it, lost in the past. Finally, she took a long drink and continued. “Sadler came home with that kitten. It cost him over fifty stitches. He was a bloody mess.” She shook her head at the memory. “He scared me to death that day but kept insisting it was worth it to save that stray.”
“What did he name it?” Kat asked.
“He never did.” Aileth’s voice dropped the room’s temperature several degrees. “The damned cat had rabies and because the doctors couldn’t be sure that all of Sadler’s wounds were from the dogs, my baby endured the entire rabies treatment regimen. The first day alone, they injected him with a fast-acting immune globulin in both arms, both legs and his stomach. I took him back for additional shots over the next two weeks.”
Kat grimaced. She was no stranger to medical procedures.
“A week after his final injection, Sadler came home with another stray kitten.” Aileth snorted lightly. “He hadn’t even fully healed.”
Kat felt her mouth tighten into a smile. That sounded like her Sadler.
“He named that one Coventry because the tiny thing had obviously been excluded from her litter. Covie for short.” Aileth swiveled back to her desk and returned her gaze to her guest. “Do you know why I’m telling you this story… Kat?”
Kat tried to swallow. Her mouth had grown dry. “I don’t have rabies, Ms. Wess.”
“Yet you’ve already hurt him.” It was a mother’s voice now, thick with displeasure. Her words went beyond a mere statement, they were pure condemnation. The woman swallowed as if to rid herself of a foul taste. “The fine, this… ‘under watch’ nonsense. It’s your doing, isn’t it?” Her head lowered, casting shadows over her eyes.
“Yes,” Kat confessed. “We didn’t mean any harm. Please don’t turn me in to corp-sec.”