by Rob Hart
That really turned the tide for a lot of things. The year before we got the Freedom from Machinery Act passed, the unemployment rate was somewhere around 28 percent. Two years later? Three percent. That figure keeps me warm at night. Plus, all those business owners eventually came around, when they realized the tax incentives were pretty good.
Each one of these things made my job easier, helped me to grow Cloud, and got people good-paying jobs. I’m proud of this, not just for me, but for all the other businesses I helped.
But it would be a pretty sad thing if that were my only legacy, and I’m happy to say it’s not.
My other legacy is my daughter, Claire.
Claire is our only child. I’ve never really talked about this, but Molly had a hard pregnancy, so we decided one child was enough. I remember when she was born and people would ask me if I was disappointed I had a girl instead of a boy. And I would get so mad at that. Here is this beautiful little thing, the most perfect thing in the world, a physical representation of the love I feel for my wife—how can I feel an ounce of regret anywhere in my heart? What kind of person even asks that?
Claire was a lucky kid. She was born around the time Cloud was really hitting its stride, so she never wanted for anything, but I didn’t let her off easy. Soon as she was old enough, I put her to work. In the office, doing odd jobs. Even paid her a little salary. I don’t think I was violating child labor laws, but don’t hold me to that.
What I wanted to instill in Claire was that no one hands you anything in this life. You have to work for it. And I never wanted her to follow in my footsteps. I wanted her to go out in the world and do her own thing. But she was just so damn smart, and so interested in how everything at Cloud worked. Wasn’t long before she got herself hired. Swear to truth, she did it under an assumed name, at a satellite office where nobody knew her. She wanted to show me she could do it. We all had a good laugh over what basically amounted to a minor case of fraud.
After she did that I brought her on in the main branch, and I always held her to the same standard as everyone else. She got rated, just like every employee, and I made sure that nothing I said or did could influence that rating. And she was a consistent four-star employee, year in and year out. She dipped down to three at one point, but that’s the year she had her first child and she wasn’t around the office that much, and that kind of thing just can’t be helped.
Important thing is, I raised a smart, strong woman. The kind of person who will tell me I’m wrong in front of a room full of people. The kind of person who will meet an unwanted advance with a smack in the teeth. The kind of person I’m proud to call mine. She made me a better person in a million different ways. But she made Cloud a better company, too.
PAXTON
Paxton peeked into the open door of Dobbs’s office. Empty. That was a relief. He figured he owed Dobbs an answer, on joining the task force, and he wasn’t ready to answer yet, even if it seemed Dakota had decided for him.
He was looking for an empty desk, unsure of what to do next, when he turned and an Indian man with a carefully tailored beard anchoring sharp cheekbones appeared in front of him, almost as if he’d materialized out of thin air. His CloudBand strap was the same color blue as his polo shirt. He was a head shorter and cleared his throat the way people do when they’re about to make a point. He asked, “Are you Paxton?”
The way the man asked, Paxton wasn’t sure if he should admit to it, but he said, “Yeah, I am.”
“Vikram,” he said, not offering his hand. “You know you shouldn’t just be standing around?”
“I know, but no one told me what to do….”
“Someone shouldn’t have to tell you what to do,” he said, crossing his arms.
Paxton’s train of thought hit a boulder before tumbling off the tracks. He didn’t know what to say. He stuttered in response. A small smile curled at the corner of Vikram’s mouth.
Then he heard a familiar voice. “Pax. Ready to head out?”
He found Dakota standing ten feet away. Her arms were crossed, too. Vikram looked at her and sighed. “I didn’t realize new recruits were allowed to stand around all day.”
“And I didn’t realize you got upgraded to tan,” Dakota said. Then she tapped her head and stuck a finger in the air. “Wait, no, that’s not a thing that happened. So why don’t you leave my new partner alone, Vicky?”
Paxton stepped back, gave room for the tug-of-war. Vikram clenched his fists hard. Then he threw his hands up. “What the hell do you think he’s going to accomplish that we couldn’t?”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Dakota said.
“This is the world’s biggest haystack and you’re looking for the world’s smallest needle,” Vikram said, more to Paxton than to Dakota. “Even if you do find it, it won’t be with anything more than luck.”
“Carry on,” Dakota said, shooing him away.
Vikram turned to Paxton. “I’ll be watching you.”
It was such a bad-movie-dialogue move Paxton had to hold his breath to keep from laughing. Vikram made it worse by turning it into a staring contest, as if he was goading Paxton into responding, so Paxton pressed his lips together and pushed his shoulders up a little. He’d learned a long time ago that people in an argument will tussle over the last word long enough the point will get lost. The better way to handle it was to act as if the last word wasn’t important enough to take.
It worked. Vikram stalked off down the corridor, his footsteps muffled on the gray carpet. A few people who had been watching dove back toward their workstations.
“C’mon,” Dakota said.
She led him down to the tram, which they took around to the dorms, not speaking until they were free and clear of prying ears. They started their stroll down the promenade, cutting long, circuitous paths around the benches and the kiosks.
“So,” Paxton said. “That was dramatic.”
“Dobbs had Vikram working on the oblivion thing for a little while,” she said. “Problem was, Vikram promised the moon and stars. Said he’d sort it out in no time, and a few months later he had a little less than nothing. So Dobbs booted him down to the warehouse exit line. Which is among the shittiest of the security details. That and the drone field.”
“Yeah, when Dobbs sat me down he said something about people getting out of hand because they were hungry for power.”
“Napoleon complex, big-time,” Dakota said. “Be careful around him. He thinks you were brought on to replace him. Which is not true at all. It’s just you came on at a time that Dobbs needed some fresh blood. But he might rat on you if he thinks it’ll bring you down a peg and take him up a notch.”
“Lovely.”
“He’s a pain in the ass but the rank-and-file like him,” Dakota said. “He works hard, he’s aggressive, he does everything by the book, so Dobbs can’t justify kicking him to another section. Not that I know if Dobbs has even thought of doing that. I don’t know what that guy is thinking half the time.”
“Got it, got it,” Paxton said.
By the second dorm it became clear the crowd had thinned. Not much shift change happening. Paxton made note of the time in his head. Trying to build out a flow of the place. It was like looking into a great big machine. He didn’t know how any of it worked, but pay attention long enough, you could figure some stuff out.
“Any good prison stories?” Dakota asked.
“No such thing as a good prison story,” Paxton said.
They walked in silence for a bit. Then she said, “I’m sorry.”
Paxton sighed. “No, it’s fine. That’s all anyone ever wants to know. Was it a rape-and-shank kind of place? It wasn’t. I worked in a minimum-security facility that was mostly for people with civil penalties. The hardest guys in there weren’t nearly as hard as they thought. I mean, it taught me a to
n about conflict resolution, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t like you see on television.”
“Ah,” Dakota said, not even bothering to hide her disappointment.
Which made Paxton feel like he was letting her down. It was a silly way to feel, but still, he did, so he thought back. There was one story that came to mind instantly. The one that didn’t make his stomach twist up.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”
And Dakota perked up.
“So every morning, six on the dot, bell goes off and everyone has to get out of their cell for count,” he said. “And we had this pair of prisoners. Titus and Mickey. Older guys, kinda squirrely, mostly kept to themselves. Used to tell stories about how they were going to escape, but no one believed them. We should have. ’Cause one day we do count and they’re not lined up. We go into the cell and find Mickey, halfway into the ground, bare ass and legs kicking in the air. He and Titus dug this hole, and he got stuck.”
“Wait…he was naked?”
“Oh yeah,” Paxton said. “They’d been digging at the floor and flushing the dirt. Can’t believe no one noticed, but they only ever had one person on guard at night on that block, given everyone was locked in their cells. It was a cost-saving measure. A dumb one. Should have had someone walking the stacks, too. So apparently Titus goes down first, given he’s a rail of a guy, and it’s narrow so he gets through fine. No one ever saw him again. Mickey, though, he’s a bit bigger and he couldn’t make it through. So he figures, if he strips down, his clothes won’t get caught on anything.”
“Not exactly a rocket scientist, was he?”
“It gets better,” Paxton said. “So me and another guard go to get him out. We each grab a leg, brace ourselves, and pull. We both went flying. The other guy ended up with a concussion. Turns out, Mickey already thought the hole might be too narrow. He stole a big block of butter from the kitchen and lubed himself up. He didn’t want to take any chances.”
Dakota let out a deep laugh from the center of her belly. “Good god.”
Paxton laughed a little at the memory. “So he’s crammed down there, stuck, ass up, covered in butter. We had to wash him down first just to get enough of a grip on him. Which, you know, there were a lot of moments I knew I wanted to get the hell out of that place. Staring at a naked, sobbing man’s ass while giving him a sponge bath was right up there.”
Dakota laughed again, high and light. “Well, lucky for you we don’t get that kind of stuff here.”
“That is a lovely thing to hear,” Paxton said.
They entered the vaulted space of Live-Play. Dakota seemed to know where she was going, so Paxton followed. Up an escalator, then another, into a darkened arcade full of old-school cabinets that looked beaten to hell but still worked, the cacophony of sound and dim light making the space feel that much more empty.
“What are we doing in here?” Paxton asked.
Dakota didn’t answer, just continued toward the back, to a Skee-Ball machine, a little pool of shadow next to it, where Paxton thought he saw movement. Dakota reached into the pool and pulled out a young man in a green polo shirt. Scrawny, mop of blond hair, not happy to be out in the light. He put his arms up to protect his face.
“Hello, Warren,” she said.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Just skulking.”
“I was playing Skee-Ball. I saw you coming and I knew you were here to hassle me.” He looked at Paxton, nodded toward him with his chin. “Who’s this goofy asshole?”
“New to the detail,” Dakota said. “Former prison guard. I was you, I wouldn’t fuck with him. He’s seen some shit.”
Fear flashed across Warren’s eyes. Paxton played along by not saying anything. Let Warren’s imagination put in some overtime.
“Warren here is an oblivion dealer,” Dakota said to Paxton. “That’s what he was doing.” She pointed toward the corner. “Not a lot of folks come in here, so he uses it to sling that jank shit.”
Warren went hands up, palms out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“What would I find if I turned out your pockets?”
“You can’t do that.”
“Who says I can’t? Who’s to say it didn’t fall out of your pocket? Who’s to say I didn’t see you with it out in the open?” She looked at Paxton. “Who’s to say?”
Paxton’s face burned. He shrugged. Gave the distinct impression of I didn’t see nothing.
Warren nodded. Turned out his pockets. Gave a little smirk.
“Happy?” he asked.
“You know that I’m not,” Dakota said. “What if I tear this place apart? What will I find?”
Warren looked around. “Lots of electronics, I guess.”
Dakota sucked air through her teeth. Looked like she wanted to do something she’d regret. After a moment she said, “Get the fuck out of here.”
Warren turned, disappeared between the gaming cabinets. Paxton and Dakota gave it a minute, exited the arcade, and resumed their stroll, same as before except for the steam coming out of Dakota’s ears.
“Why not stick someone on him?” Paxton asked. “Or lean on him harder? There have to be ways to exert pressure.”
“Dobbs says no,” she said. “Dobbs says use a light touch.”
“Why?”
“That’s the way he wants it done.”
“C’mon, the kid is a twerp. Stick him in a room and turn up the thermostat and he’ll melt.”
“That’s the way Dobbs wants it done,” Dakota says.
“Meanwhile, you’re knocking out pimps. Nothing light about that.”
Her voice whipped at him. “When you’re in charge, you call the shots.”
“Fine, fine,” Paxton said, throwing up his hands. “I’m sure you checked the watch, cross-referenced who met with him, right?”
She nodded. “Whenever he’s in the arcade, it’s always just him. Whoever he’s working with has figured out a way to conceal his movements, or he’s wandering around without a watch on at all. Which is part of the reason Dobbs is so intent on nailing this down. Besides blowing open the oblivion distribution, clearly there’s some kind of flaw in the tracking.”
Paxton looked down at his watch, turned his wrist over.
“You’re only supposed to take it off at night,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“You can’t get around without one, with all the doors and elevators and access points.”
“Yup.”
“So how do you spoof it?”
“That’s the question.”
“Any thoughts?”
“None,” she said. “Try to dismantle it, alert. Take it off for too long without putting it in the cradle, alert. And it’s coded to each user so it’s not like people can swap them.”
“So it would help if we found the weak point.”
“It would.”
“I imagine you’ve had tech people on this?”
“Up and down.”
Paxton adjusted the watch on his wrist. On one hand, this felt over his pay grade. But on the other, he relished the idea of a mystery to crack. It broke up the monotony of the day, at least.
They walked some more. Back down the promenade. He glanced at the various blues passing them by. Studying faces. No one he recognized. Not from the bullpen or his introductory session. There were a lot of people here. More important, no Vikram.
“How worried should I be about Napoleon?” Paxton asked.
“We’ll see if he’s even here in a few days.”
“How’s that?”
“Cut Day soon.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
She stopped. Turned. “Geez, I thought that was part of the intro. Okay, so, on Cut Day, a
whole bunch of low-ranked employees are going to get a notification they’ve been turfed. That day tends to be busy for us. A lot of people don’t want to leave. Sometimes a couple of people…well.” She drifted, came back to it. “It’s a busy day for us.”
“Got it. Sounds pretty cutthroat.”
“It is, but don’t worry,” she said. “You get a grace period. First month you don’t qualify to be cut.”
“That’s…good,” Paxton said. He wasn’t sure if good was the right word, but it was something.
“C’mon, let’s head back,” Dakota said. “Put some notes down for the task force.”
“I still haven’t agreed to be on that.”
“Yes you have.” And she walked, without turning to make sure Paxton was following. He jogged to keep up.
ZINNIA
Turkey baster. Book. Cat food. Christmas lights. Activated-charcoal teeth-whitening powder. Faux-fur slippers. Webcam. Tablet. Toy laser guns. Selfie stick. Markers. Yarn. Vitamin D tablets. Night-lights. Pruning shears. Meat thermometer. Dehumidifier. Coconut oil.
Zinnia ran. The new sneakers were ugly as fuck but they were comfortable, and even with her feet bandaged up and protesting, she was able to work up a head of speed as she danced between the shelves and conveyor belts. As if she were being guided by an unseen hand. The algorithm, keeping her safe, moving the workers and the shelves in tandem. She turned the job into a game. How many times could she make the green bar flash?
Printer ink. Grill cover. Pajamas. Dog chew toy. Sleeping bag. Tablet. Book. Paintbrushes. Wallet. Shoelaces. Micro-USB cable. Airline neck pillow. Protein powder. Power strip. Silicone baking cups. Essential oils. Portable charger. Travel mug. Plush robe. Headphones.
Four. She’d gotten four green flashes since she started and she wasn’t even at her first piss break. She hit the wall and pushed through. She could make the bar flash green, but how long could she make it stay green?
Mesh waste basket. Tick-control collar. Colored pencils. USB hub. Tablet. Moisturizer. Forehead thermometer. French press. Patterned socks. Ice cube trays. Leather gloves. Backpack. Book. Camping lantern. Thermos. Sleep mask. Wool cap. Boots.