by Mark Reece
Secondly, there was a clear performance pattern in the success rate of SDMA cases over the same period that to his knowledge had never previously been identified. The SDMA was required by statute to collect statistics about the amount of investigations that had resulted in proven breaches of the Sleep Code. The recognised recording practice was that one proven breach in a case was counted as success, regardless of the nature of the incident or how many people were involved. This meant that if an investigation proved an SC breach, it went down in government statistics as a positive result, even if the investigation had identified ten suspects and the SC breach was only verified against one of them.
Official statistics showed that the agency had a consistently high and improving rate of success over the last three years. However, the amount of people identified as committing SC breaches was reducing, and the amount of prosecutions brought on a per-case basis was also decreasing. The organisation relied far too heavily on official records and therefore struggled to investigate those who did not have an MV. Furthermore, the amount of Iklonian agents uncovered was lower the previous year than at any time since the agency had formed. In short, the SDMA was only identifying the obvious, investigating shift workers who had been caught asleep on the job by their supervisors, and homeless people who had been seen asleep in the street by a crowd of onlookers. Eighty per cent of successfully identified breaches were for section one, subsection one. Many of the other sections had no proven cases. Increasingly, the SDMA was blind as to what caused breaches and was unable to identify Iklonians or other subversives.
Whether as a cause or consequence of those problems, the amount of referrals through the PSH had decreased thirty per cent year to date compared with the previous year, and thirty five per cent compared to two years earlier. The organisation had long depended on the public for the majority of its information, which was why it had always spent such a large proportion of its budget on advertising. If the public had lost confidence in the system then the organisation was in serious trouble.
Ethan’s first instinct was to look around the office and think about the faults of his fellow investigators; how they did not pursue cases to their logical conclusions, how they did not follow procedure, or in some cases even know it, how the work was unequally distributed to hide the blushes of the lazy, and finally, of course, the fool in change of the section, who was as unaware of what was going on around him as an anaesthetised patient.
Ethan locked his notes in his drawer, unsure whether to give the unvarnished truth. Daniel was as hard on poor performance as he was, but even so, he was a senior manager, and Ethan had never known a senior manager who had been happy to have a systemic problem pointed out to them. In addition to the implicit criticism that they had not known what was happening, detailing a problem in writing meant that it could no longer be swept under the carpet, creating a necessity to do something. And doing something invariably caused problems.
After giving the matter considerable thought, he decided to put some of the truth in the initial document and give Daniel a verbal update on the more unpalatable facts, such as the amount of SDMA agents who had never uncovered multiple suspects in any case they had ever investigated. Then at least he would not be embarrassing him in front of the DIA, and he could decide what he was willing to disclose.
He opened his e-mail to let Daniel know about his progress, but a blank window opened that crashed his other files when he tried to close it. “Is your e-mail working?”
“It’s been crap all day, mate, you just have to keep restarting it until it works.”
“I already have twice this afternoon. I spend hours waiting for things to load.”
“You know why, don’t you? I’ve heard that they’ve found that five of the new IT contractors are Icks. God knows what they’ve been doing with the system.”
“Where did you hear that from? Anyway, wasn’t there that lock-down the last time it happened?”
“They don’t do that anymore, it’s too high-profile. They do it in secret now.”
Ethan looked at Mo to see that he had a perfectly serious expression. “I swear to God you talk a load of shit sometimes.”
“Is it really that far fetched?”
Ethan shrugged.
As he was walking to the car park later that evening, Ethan’s mobile rang and he saw that it was Terry. Where did he dissapear to?
“Hi Tez, how you doing?”
“More importantly, how are you doing?”
“Erm… fine… is there any reason I shouldn’t be?”
“With everything that’s going on, how can anyone be fine?”
“You’ve got me.”
“I’m only messing around with ya. I was just going to say what are you doing tonight? We were supposed to meet up ages ago but it never happened.”
“Erm…” Aislin had earlier told him that she had some things to sort out that night, and Ethan thought that he would not have to mention anything to her. “Sure, okay. Do you want me to come straight to yours?”
“Why not? No problemo.”
“Right, I’ll see you in a bit.”
Ethan paused, thinking about whether he should go. He probably wouldn’t still be in contact with Terry if it didn’t annoy Daisy so much. She had not liked the fact that they were friends when they were going out, and the sound of his name was enough to make her grind her teeth now. That just about overcame his distaste about associating with someone so unreliable.
There was a new poster that seemed to be on every wall of every building. It depicted a man with a sinister moustache sleeping with his head resting on a desk. Workers were loading a crane with metal bars behind him. The slogan was ‘Our City Our Security – don’t take any risks’. The image was oddly incongruous – there had been no heavy industry in the Eternal City for at least fifty years.
When he reached Terry’s house, Ethan saw that the curtains were closed and there were no lights on. After knocking twice, he was about to ring Terry’s mobile when the door opened a slither. A nose appeared.
“All right?”
“Come in then, hurry up.”
He bundled him inside and shut the door before he could say anything.
“What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are all the curtains closed?”
“Well, you don’t know who’s looking, do ya?”
Terry stared at him as if highly offended before going into the lounge. Ethan followed him, to see that the room looked precisely the same as when he had last visited, six months earlier. There were still beanbags in place of chairs, and one of the walls was given over to a montage of musicians cut from magazines and newspapers. There were photographs of Terry and Daisy on the mantelpiece, placed in front of a picture of a magnificent fish leaping from a river. Light flickered off its scales and the cascade of droplets was as dramatic as if the water had been pierced by gunfire. Terry had been interested in photography since they had met as teenagers while working in a supermarket, and he had always said that he would look for somewhere to send them to, someday.
“Have a seat, wait there a minute.”
Ethan looked around as there was nowhere obvious to sit, before clearing a pile of magazines from one of the beanbags. He was looking at the pictures when Terry returned, carrying a plate like a waiter.
“Here ya go. Food fit for kings.”
It was a crisp sandwich like they used to have in their lunch break.
“Cheers.”
“You ever see Daisy these days?” Terry asked.
“Occasionally. Through Ash.”
“What’s she up to?”
“Couldn’t really tell you. I only tend to see her for a few minutes at a time.”
“Does Ash ever mention about her having a new boyfriend?”
“No, but we hardly ever talk about her.�
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“I think about calling her sometimes. I’d like to know how she’s doing.”
“Yeah.”
“Anyway, fancy a game?”
Terry waved a controller at him.
“Of course.”
Terry had one of the earliest models of MV, which was compatible with his old games console. Once Ethan started playing, he enjoyed himself like he used to. Terry was intriguingly old-fashioned; Ethan had never met anyone else who owned a camera with lenses. Meeting him was like reminiscing over a bittersweet film.
He got so competitive that he lost track of time, and when realising that light was no longer filtering through the folds of the curtains, he looked at his watch to see that it was ten o’clock. He brushed the crumbs from his clothes before mumbling an apology, ignoring Terry’s suggestion that they play on, leaving with assurances that they would meet again soon.
Terry slammed the door shut as soon as Ethan was outside. He straightened the collar of his coat and saw a flash in the window of the house opposite.
“Nice to meet you…” he shouted, waving at whoever it was. He saw a darting movement then everything was still. He held his breath while walking up the path, feeling like he was about to be shot.
As he got into his car, Ethan went into his mobile to see that he had had an automated message from the SDMA:
INFORMATION EXCHANGE. A suspicious male wearing a mask has been seen in YOUR area between 23:00-03:00. Described as tall, medium build, shaven head. Call the Public Safety Hotline today with any information. Why take a chance?
He bit his thumb. No one’s ever described me as tall. I’m medium height. No one could say any different.
The rest of the week conformed to the pattern of his life as he had known it for the last eight years since joining the SDMA; long, hard hours, and eating out with Aislin late at night. However, there was a heightened quality to his experience; he took particular care with security procedures as he realised that the scope of the project was incrementally widening to involve investigating his colleagues. Mo’s statistics were average, which was to say poor. (His own were of course by far the best in the section.) The amount of people he could trust was now very small.
Since their agreement to move in, Aislin had not been annoyed with him for finishing late and they had been as happy together as when they had first met. He left at eight on Friday, meaning that she had had to go home to pack before meeting him. He had thought that the hassle would have pushed her too far, even with how well things were going, but when she sent him a message saying that she had set out, it contained ten kisses.
When he reached their fac, he went to the table Aislin had reserved for them and did not recognise her for a moment. She was wearing a new red dress that made her arms look very long and elegant. When she saw him, she stood and kissed his cheek.
“You look very beautiful tonight. Not that that’s any different from normal.”
“Trying to make up for keeping me waiting?” She smiled, giving a very bad impression of being annoyed.
“Sorry. You know I’d end the world tomorrow if it meant I could spend more time with you.”
“That’s all right then.”
After they had eaten, Ethan felt their time together slipping away, as if the passage of time was a punishment that they had uniquely to endure, and wished they could always live that way, enjoying each other’s company without any complications. The accumulated sleep deprivation that was always worse at the end of the week made him feel a giddy headiness.
They remained at their table for a long time. However, eventually, Aislin looked at her watch with a flick of her head.
“I’ve got to go, they’ll be wondering where I am. Dad’ll be forced into doing something desperate, like asking mum to go with him instead.”
“She’d love that.”
“Oh yeah, you can imagine her, can’t you? Traipsing around following his whims all day long. There’s only one fool daft enough to do that.”
Ethan put his hands over hers and said, “I’ll miss you.”
She smiled and looked away, and Ethan thought that if he complimented her again, she would be happy enough to stay a little longer.
“I wasn’t joking before, you know. You are always beautiful. I’ll joke about anything except that.”
Aislin smiled while biting her bottom lip.
She squeezed his hand several times on their way to the car park. Such a commonplace thing as love did not seem possible at that moment. He was expecting an emotional scene before she left but Aislin only kissed him with probing lips, resting her head against his chest before getting into her car.
“Remember what I told you,” she said. He nodded, feeling annoyed that she had alluded to her ultimatum on such a night. She paused before driving off, making the safety monitor admonish her for the fuel she had wasted.
When he returned home, Ethan wandered from room to room, feeling as if he wanted to do something, anything, rather than go to bed. It felt nonsensical to remove himself from the immediacy of the world at such a time. A thin, hazy sleep soon snatched his thoughts of Aislin away, without even the consolation of incorporating them into his dreams.
Ethan woke feeling startled the following morning, hearing his alarm clock as if for the first time. He had planned his every moment the previous week so as to see Aislin as much as possible before she left. Now that he could do anything, he felt at a loss.
After eating a banana for breakfast, he lay on the sofa and idly made different figures appear in the lounge using the MV, before sending Aislin a message. He tapped his feet for a few minutes before thinking that she was probably driving.
Ethan thought that he had not contacted his university friends for a while, and he rang one of them to arrange to meet the next day. Even with half of the weekend accounted for, time stretched before him as if he were looking at a starless night sky. They could think of nothing else to do other than hire a crammer. His friend slept at Ethan’s house that night.
He felt refreshed on Monday morning. Aislin had sent him messages and a brief e-mail over the weekend, in which she had said that her father had been as excited as a child from the moment he got on the plane, and that she had had to treat him as such: “I’m going to be knackered at the end of this”. Ethan had smiled when reading her words, as he could imagine what had happened as vividly as if he were there.
The next interim report for Daniel had to be finished by Friday, and now that Ethan had only himself to think about, there was no reason why he could not put in the hours to get it done for Thursday, then perhaps go out with Mo at the end of the week. Ethan wanted to ask his advice in private about living with a woman, never having done so before.
He planned to finish most of Hypnos by the end of the month. That way, when Aislin came back, they could concentrate on looking for houses and he would not have to upset her by missing showings. Of course, there would still be meetings, presentations, briefings to management, and all the other rubbish that followed the completion of any major project, but one-off events of that type were easier to justify than unconditional devotion to the SDMA.
Ethan plunged into work as soon as he sat at his desk. Diligence seemed paradoxical, as the harder he worked, the more he discovered, expanding the project still further.
After a few hours, Mohammed said Ethan’s name, making him jump before looking round his computer.
“What are you daydreaming about?”
“What?”
“I had to call you ten times. You weren’t thinking about me again, were you?”
“Yes, mate. I wasn’t going to say but you’ve forced my hand. What do you want?”
“I’ve found out about that thing you were interested in, ‘Iklonian five’.”
“Oh right.”
“It came up in a report that Ben filed a few years ago. You rememb
er him, he used to—”
“Yeah, yeah…”
“He did a few jobs around infiltration of the fire brigade. Apparently, there was some suggestion that a few people in the back office of a station had been recruited by the Icks. The original report said that they were going to use their influence to allow certain buildings to burn down, but that wasn’t proven. A couple of firemen were caught up in minor SC breaches and were sacked; two stats people were arrested but the criminal case was later discontinued.
“Iklonian five came up in stuff recovered when their desks were searched. There were a whole series of weird notes with patterns scribbled over the paper. There were pictures of… demons, or monsters or something… anyway, the phrase was written underneath them. They were sent to the DIA for analysis but nothing ever came of it. Nothing they told us anyway.”
“So it doesn’t mean anything as far as we know?”
“There was one other reference. Do you remember the big who-har a while ago about the symbols being graffitied on buildings that were supposed to be a secret language the Icks were using?”
“God, not that again. That lot was a nightmare.”
“Tell me about it. Well, one of the symbols drawn in chalk in a hospital toilet might have read Iklonian five, although it had been partly worn away by the time we got there. There was a press report to say that it refers to an initiation ritual, about the number of them who’ve got to be there and the position they stand in. We had the journalist in who wrote about it but he wouldn’t tell us where he’d got the information from, so the job was filed.”
“Okay… right. That’s as much as we’ve got then?”
“Yeah. The DIA have probably got more ’cos it was their intel in the first place. You want me to put an inter-service request to them?”
“No. It’s all right. They’ll never give us more than they already have, with how high profile it was.”
“Okay, do you want me to send you the full files?”