by Mark Reece
Ethan spent ten minutes reading through the authorisation form, double checking Peter’s signature, before standing and looking along the line of desks. The movement made several lights flicker on, and wall shadows scattered like disturbed insects.
He went back to Hypnos until realising that a man was standing at the back of Mohammed’s chair, watching Ethan unblinking. He jumped as if a slug had dropped on his flesh.
“Mr Thomas, can I see your identity pass please?”
The man raised his eyebrows as if having identified a misdeed. Wrinkles hid his features like a mask and he remained still as Ethan looked through his pockets and under piles of paper for it.
“Are you One?”
Ethan handed the man his pass, who examined it for a few seconds before looking at him, then inspected it again.
“I am. Can I see your authorisation, Mr Thomas? We have less than an hour now.”
“Yep.”
Ethan handed him the form, and he examined it in the same way as he had his identity pass.
“Follow me please, Mr Thomas.”
Ethan took his notepad and locked his computer.
“Wait there please. What did you just pick up?”
“A list of the reference numbers of files I need to access. And some paper so that I can make notes for my report.”
“Paper and a pen will be provided. Let me see that please, Mr Thomas.”
The act had quickly become exasperating and Ethan had to suppress a sigh when giving One his notebook, which he examined with the same thoroughness as everything else, reading every page several times then shaking it over his desk. One put it in his pocket.
“This will be returned to you. Please empty your pockets of any items, including handkerchiefs. You may not take any items of any kind to another floor. This is your last chance to remove any items you may be carrying. Carrying any unauthorised items after this point may result in disciplinary, criminal, or extraordinary action. Do you understand the caution, Mr Thomas?”
“Yes. I’m not carrying anything.”
Despite having told the truth, Ethan checked his pockets as he spoke, an action that One noted with a flick of his eyes.
“Follow me please, Mr Thomas.”
The room lit up in sections as they walked, as if One could command electricity, illuminating him for the first time since Ethan had seen him. He wore an extremely smart loosely fitting suit that hid the outline of his body. When they reached the lift, One pressed the button to call it then stood at the other side of the door. He adjusted his tie, revealing for a moment a red sash that ran diagonally across his spotless white shirt.
The lift seemed to take a long time to arrive and the wait was awkward, as whenever Ethan caught One’s eyes, he looked back with disinterested attention, as if watching a neighbour’s dog.
When the lift opened, they went inside and One said, “Your identity card, please.”
Ethan gave it to him and One scanned it over a wand-shaped device, which he then inserted into a hole in the wall, under the buttons for the different floors. He pressed the ‘0’ button, which stuck out further from the wall than the rest.
Ethan’s stomach flipped when the lift lurched down. He shifted from one leg to the other before putting his hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall. There must be something wrong. We could have gone from the top of the building and back again by now. One seemed entirely relaxed, which, given what Ethan had seen of him, did not mean much. He gave the impression that he would barely bring himself to raise an eyebrow if he was robbed at gunpoint.
“Did I follow policy by contacting Two first? I wasn’t sure which of you I should have rung.”
One turned by pivoting on his heels, looking at him as if having decided to fulfil his curiosity. The lift jumped before opening and One stepped out.
Immediately beyond the door was a small square room, one side of which was filled with a series of panels containing brightly coloured, twinkling buttons. The wall opposite was featureless grey except for a monitor in its centre. One pushed his pass into the bottom of it, making a hidden section extend. He touched it first with the index finger of his right hand, then the thumb of his left. He typed something into a miniature keyboard and a door opened. “This way please.”
Ethan followed him.
“Stop.”
Ethan did as he was instructed and there was a flash powerful enough to make him rub his eyes. When he opened them, red circles danced around his vision.
“Raise your arms please, Mr Thomas.”
Ethan did so and there was another flash, this time hurting his eyes enough to make his head jerk back violently.
“Turn out your pockets please, Mr Thomas.”
Ethan did so and One stepped forward to squeeze them.
“Follow me please.”
Ethan stood still, taken aback for a few seconds, before putting his pockets back in. He had had the same feeling when meeting the DIA Regional Director, of a divide born out of an unbridgeable difference in rank. Not wanting to be left behind, Ethan hurried to follow him.
Beyond the square room was a corridor that did not seem quite straight, making him feel as if he were leaning to one side as he walked through it. Grey lumps stuck out of the walls in places, which, together with the cool air, gave him the impression that he was passing a rock face. There were doors at regular intervals either side but One only stopped when reaching one fastened shut by a circular metal sheet with square teeth around its edges. There was a monitor in its centre like the one in the previous room.
“Wait there please, Mr Thomas.”
One positioned himself to the side so that he could operate the computer while watching Ethan. One pressed combinations of his fingers into a slot on the keyboard before typing.
After he had finished, the door swung back. Ethan was confused for a moment, as given its shape, he had expected it to roll to one side. The teeth had to be fake. One looked at him and Ethan followed, grimacing when thinking that he was about to be called ‘Mr Thomas’ again. I’ve not been called that since I got detention at school.
The room beyond was featureless sky blue and stretched so far that Ethan could not tell where it ended. The walls were covered with barely perceivable cracks.
“You have thirty six minutes, Mr Thomas.”
“Right… What am I supposed to… Where are the files?”
“May I refer to your notes, Mr Thomas?”
“Go on.”
The formality was now entirely tiresome. One took the notebook from his pocket with an elaborate gesture then pressed the nearest crack. A panel opened and he typed something into what had to be a computer inside. In that moment, Ethan’s irritation fell away and he was as excited as a little boy. He stood on tiptoe to tantalise himself with a glimpse of flashing colours. It was as if he had stepped into a spaceship.
“Mr Thomas, you have high enough access to view all the files referred to in your notes. They’re stored in two different areas. Follow me please.”
Ethan felt a sense of danger, as the ‘two different areas’ must refer to the information he genuinely needed, and the information about the Professor. He hoped beyond hope that One would take him to the files relevant to Hypnos first, as that would mean that he could spend however much time he needed on his legitimate enquiries and consider the rest a bonus.
They walked for what seemed several minutes before One stopped and tapped the wall above a crack. A panel jutted out and he pulled it forward.
“The files are in reference order, Mr Thomas. You can read them on the monitor there; some have been transferred to the electronic system, but I’m afraid no guarantee can be made that all of them were.”
There were a series of dividers and files inside the cabinet, with a computer panel built into one side of it. One gave him a pen and a square of note
paper with narrowly spaced blue lines.
The cabinet was so large that Ethan could not reach across it and thought that he could fit inside. He felt an incipient smile on his lips before quelling the expression, feeling One’s dead eyes on him. He pulled the cabinet out as far as it would go. The papers were so neatly ordered that he soon found the source details for the cases that demonstrated the links between Iklonian activity and the degradation of infrastructure. The files displayed a perfection of organisation that made him feel that he was looking into the nature of things.
Whenever he took out a file, Ethan sensed One taking a mental deep breath, his psychic peace disturbed by the possibility of it being put back in the wrong place. The efficiency of the basement contrasted sharply with the chaos of the rest of the organisation, and that it was apparently maintained by two men gave it an otherworldly, archaic air.
Ethan made notes of details that were not on Mirror. He wrote as small as he could, not wanting to ask One for more paper, as there would certainly be another procedure for doing so that would take him over his time limit.
When he had looked at most of the files he needed for Hypnos, Ethan started to dawdle, thinking that he did not want to mark out the file relating to the Professor as special by spending a noticeably longer time on it than the others. After taking an age to read the last file he legitimately needed to view, he slid the drawer back into the wall. “Thank you.”
One slipped beside him and locked the drawer with a click.
“Do we have time to look at the other file I was interested in?”
One slowly turned to look at him with an inscrutable expression, as if he were made out of brass.
“There are seventeen minutes remaining, Mr Thomas, ten of which must be spent returning to your floor. Whether that’s enough time, only you can say.”
Ethan did not want to reply and initiate conversation, which with One always took longer than necessary; Ethan was driven to distraction by his stare and the lumbering way in which he eventually started to move. It was like watching a statue coming to life. Eventually, he examined Ethan’s notes in his ponderous way, displaying no recognition, as if they were written in a foreign language, before moving deeper into the basement.
One opened a drawer that was as long as the other one, although there was only a single folder inside. Ethan expected him to say something but he only withdrew to just outside his vision like he had before.
Ethan checked the file number before weighing it in his hands as if it were a Christmas present. It was very light. After the first divider was a single page, on which was written:
All files relating to Project Samson have been classified as TOP SECRET by Senior Agent Daniel Lee, reference 102x/15.
There was an illegible signature underneath those words, followed by a black rectangle that covered the remainder of the page. The paper had a grainy quality and was clearly photocopied. Ethan put the file away and was about to say that he was finished when he remembered the computer built into the drawer. He switched it on and in a few seconds it went to a main menu, where there were two options. The first was for a contents page for the selected file. When he clicked on that, a message appeared stating that the information was unavailable. Ethan went back to the main menu and moved the cursor over the second option – ‘Audit – for security personnel only’.
“Your time’s up, Mr Thomas.”
Ethan felt his hand on his shoulder, the grip such that it would crush him should he clench his fingers. One had to be able to defend himself, otherwise he would not have come down here alone with him.
Leaving the basement was like the experience one has after waking in the night after a vivid dream. The impression is so strong that reality seems unsatisfactory, and one looks around, to be confronted by the disappointing blandness of one’s surroundings. Sleep seems only an escape from what one has seen, such that it is with great reluctance that one is subsumed into the night. The dream repeats in fragments without the narrative of before. The story cannot progress and one wakes tired the following morning with a sense of longing, the sound of the alarm clock lashing one’s back. The feeling of loss is vague and soon fades into a sad absence.
When they reached his floor, One told him that his notes would be examined for security purposes before being returned to him in the internal post. Ethan nodded, feeling a sudden lack of energy, and went to his desk.
He remained still until the lights went off. There was no reason for him to be there and he wanted more than anything to go home. However, in the same way that he would stay up all night watching the MV and wake exhausted rather than going to bed, Ethan could not be bothered to stand and walk to the train station.
He flicked through the contacts on his mobile. Aislin was near the top of the list and he rang her from the landline. I may as well use the free phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi Ash, it’s me. How are you?”
“Yeah, good thanks.”
Her voice was heavy with sleep, making her sound as if she were underwater.
“Sorry, are you okay to talk? I know it’s late.”
“Yeah yeah, go on. What’s happening?”
“Busy day today, you know how it is.”
“Yeah…”
“Sorry, Ash. I’ll ring you back tomorrow – you sound knackered.”
“No I’m okay, go on, tell me what you’re doing.”
“This and that. It’s hard to say really. When I’m busiest it seems like I get nothing done. I’m really looking forward to seeing you. I’ve got loads of houses saved on the MV. Some of them have been put on again in the last few weeks at a lower price. That’s good for us, isn’t it? I don’t think it’ll take long to pick somewhere.”
“We’ve got to sell ours though, don’t forget. It’s not good if they’re not being sold.”
She was fully awake now, and that she showed less than blind optimism filled him with alarm.
“Nah, it’ll be no problem.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
“Sorry for ringing late, Ash. I just wanted to say that I miss you. I’ve been thinking about things while you’ve been away and I’ve realised that I never make myself clear to you. So that’s what I was ringing about, I suppose, to say how much I miss you and that I… I love you…”
“That’s really sweet. I’m glad you called. You can call anytime.”
“Look, I won’t keep you up any more, sorry for ringing when you’re so tired. It sounds like you’re worn out.”
She yawned. “I’m okay.”
“I’ll speak to you tomorrow then.”
“Okay, love you, bye, bye, bye.”
She hung up and Ethan held the receiver by his ear. The feeling of not being bothered to move returned the instant their conversation was over and he wished Aislin was with him. He felt desperate in his love for her. He imagined holding her waist in the way she liked until the sensation was almost real.
He did not look at the time before leaving, not wanting to put pressure on himself, as he was aware that such a disruption to his already irregular routine would mean that his alternation between sleepless night and soulless day would continue until the weekend, when he would sleep until the afternoon.
Little happened during the rest of the week, until Friday afternoon, when he realised that he had finished Hypnos. He had sighed when checking the final section, not wanting to start the next part so late in the week. However, when he looked through his notes, there were no revisions left.
It took him a moment to update the contents page, a few minutes to check that the formatting was correct, then he looked at the document in ‘print preview’ to see that it appeared very professional: full of graphs, charts, headings, all immaculately presented. He security locked the file then flicked through it one final time with no evident purpose other than to delay the moment, before e-mail
ing it to Dan.
Hi Dan,
Please find attached the completed version of the report, including the amendments and the extra sections, as requested at the meeting on the 25th. If you want to make any other changes then let me know, but I think this is about it…
Thanks,
Ethan
He sat back and closed the file. The idea that he would go back to his usual job on Monday seemed surreal.
“I’m done then,” he said to Mo.
“What was that?”
“I said I’m done, that monster job is finished. I’ve sent it off to Dan.”
“Is that everything now then?”
“I think so. He might come back with something else, you know what he’s like. And there’ll be meetings and the rest of it. But basically, yeah, that’s it.”
“Crumbs. Well then, mate, you won’t be a one-job charlie anymore. How will you manage? Will you be able to cope? Do you need any counselling?”
Ethan smiled. He thought that he should tell Peter, before deciding that he would organise his own workload for a few days. It’s not like the wheel’s come off up until now. He browsed the Internet until he grew bored, then checked his e-mails to see that Dan had replied:
Cheers, Ethan,
Will review this and be in contact soon.
Thanks,
Dan
Ethan looked out of the security glass, contemplating that rarest of situations – leaving early.
“Have a good weekend then, enjoy yourself,” he said to Mo.
“Cheers, mate. See you later.”
Ethan nodded and smiled at his other colleagues on his way out, hurrying his steps so as not to have to explain himself to anyone.
He was at a loose end when he got home as it was too early to have dinner. At the back of his mind was the thought that if he slept for an hour, he would be refreshed for the weekend. Ethan put on the MV and forced himself to watch until he had forgotten his boredom.