by Rob Hart
As she picked up the items, he stood.
“You’re a red, aren’t you?” he asked. “New to the floor, right?”
“Excuse me…,” she said, taking the long way around the room, circling it, to keep benches between the two of them.
He figured out what she was going for, so he stepped over to the exit and blocked her path. Glanced out into the bathroom to make sure they were alone.
“I know being a red isn’t the most fun job here,” he said. “I mean, everyone wants to do it until they actually do it. There are shifts in there that are a bit easier, though.”
“Excuse me,” she said, trying to move past him.
He shifted to block her path, getting so close now she could smell him. Laundry detergent. Cigarettes? “I’m sorry. We got off to a bad start.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Rick.”
She took a step back. “And I’m leaving.”
“You can tell me your name,” he said. “You’re being pretty rude.”
Zinnia took another step back and tightened her towel, drawing Rick’s eye to the patch of skin below her clavicle, where the towel rested. A look on his face like he wanted to snatch it away and see what was underneath. Which made Zinnia want to snatch his face off to see what was underneath.
She had her watch on. That was what was keeping her from smashing her fist into the soft part of his throat, which would crush his trachea like a beer can, allowing her to sit quietly on a bench and watch as he struggled and failed to get air down his ruined throat into his lungs, until he grew more red and then blue and then dead.
“Look, you’re new, so you don’t really get the power structure around here,” he said. “Managers can help you, or we can be a pain in the ass. For example, I can make it so you never see an overtime notification again, and it won’t impact your ranking.”
Zinnia didn’t respond.
“Or, you know, there are a lot of things that can mess with rankings.” He looked around again, dropped his voice. “Listen, I get it. It’s a lot to take in.” He stepped back, put up his hands. “I won’t even touch you. How about you just dry off and get dressed and we’ll leave it at that, huh? Call it a wash. You can have a little more time to get…acclimated.”
Zinnia thought about it. Wanting even more to hurt him. Not just because of what he was doing. But because he had done this before. There was such an ease to his actions. As if he were ordering coffee.
But the long-term goal won out in the end. She took a few more steps back. More for his safety, in case he got handsy. Dropped the towel. Felt the air against her exposed skin. It touched every inch of her, sharing space with his gaze.
He smiled, sat slowly on the bench, near the door.
“Go ahead now,” he said softly.
She picked up the towel again, ran it over her body. As she did it she tried to make eye contact with him. Every time his eyes met hers they would dart away. Fucking coward. She stared harder.
After she finished drying herself, she reached down for her underwear, stepped into them, then her pants.
As she reached for her shirt he put his hand up.
“Just a second more,” he said. “I want to remember this for later.”
She breathed in hard and pulled the shirt over her head. When she was done she slipped her feet into her flip-flops and stood there and shrugged. Like, What now, asshole?
He paused. Like he was thinking. To push for more? Zinnia was afraid. Not of him. He was nothing. But of what this might turn into. He didn’t realize how pegged down he had her, how compromised she was simply because she was on a job that depended on subterfuge.
Finally, he stood, said, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Tell me your name.”
“Zinnia.”
He smiled. “That’s a lovely name. Zinnia. I’ll remember that. You have a nice night, Zinnia. Welcome to Cloud, okay? I promise you, once you get used to how things are around here, it’s pretty easy.”
She didn’t say anything to that either. He turned and left. As he reached the door he called over his shoulder, “See you around, Zinnia.”
After he was gone she sat on a bench and stared at the wall.
She hated herself for not hurting him but she didn’t know any other way to handle it. That didn’t stop her from running each and every scenario through her brain: Elbow to the eye socket. Foot to the balls. Slam his face into the tiled wall until something broke, the face or the tile, whichever came first.
She sat there for long enough that she forgot where she was. When she worked up the energy to leave she stepped out and found the out-of-order sign was now on the gender-neutral bathroom. The women’s room was free.
No wonder they’d had privacy for so long.
She made her way to her room, glancing over her shoulder along the way, and when she reached it she hung her wet towel from the hook on the wall and sat on the futon, her head filled with a chain-saw sound, so she turned on the television and navigated to the screen for the Rainbow Coalition, hoping to drown it out.
RAINBOW COALITION
Our mission at Cloud is to promote an enriching and supportive atmosphere that allows everyone to thrive and succeed. We provide a comprehensive approach to inclusivity, access, and equality, through collaborative, deliberate efforts within our community. The Rainbow Coalition empowers employees to take control of their own destinies.
Humanity is a rich tapestry, and here at Cloud, we know the importance of what each and every person brings to the workforce. In that regard, we’ve created the Rainbow Coalition to make sure opportunity is available and abundant for anyone who wants it.
According to the genetic record you provided during the interview process, you are eligible under the following tracks:
Female
Black or African-American
Hispanic or Latinx
During the rating process your ranking will be taken into account, as well as your previous work history, and we will reconsider your placement and find a position that is mutually beneficial to both our needs and yours. To start, you must schedule a meeting with a Rainbow Coalition representative in the Admin building.
The next available appointment is in: 102 days.
Do you wish to proceed?
PAXTON
“Are you kidding me with this?”
Dakota’s face was twisted into something grotesque, brows heavy and mouth hanging open. She paused like that for a few moments, the coffee pod still in her hand. Paxton was suddenly thankful the break room was empty.
After a moment Dakota sighed, put the coffee pod into the machine, set her mug underneath. She put her hands over her face.
“So you had a lead, right there in front of you, and you just let it walk away?”
“Well, I was off shift, and—”
“Okay, let me stop you right there,” she said, holding the flat of her hand up like a blade. “You’re on the security team. You are never off shift.”
Paxton’s skin flushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”
“You’re damn right you didn’t think.” Dakota looked at the coffee machine, realized she hadn’t actually started the brewing process, and slapped the top of the machine before she hit the On button. “Damn it. Now I really need this.” She crossed her arms, leaned against the counter, looked back at Paxton. “You got me in a not-terrible mood today, so I’m not going to tell Dobbs. It’s your first week so I’ll give you a pass. But if you want to succeed here, you got to knuckle down, you understand me?”
“I’m sorry,” Paxton said, though the apology tasted wrong in his mouth. What exactly was he sorry for? He hadn’t wanted this job in the first place.
“You damn well better be,” she said.
“I’m real disappointed to hear this.”
That stung. The kind of shot that made Paxton want to retreat into himself, or disappear into the floor, or float up through the ceiling—be anywhere but here. He turned to leave, figuring he would come back later for a cup of coffee when he could brew it in solitude. But he stopped himself. “Thank you.”
Dakota nodded, her face softening. The coffee finished, she plucked the mug, held it under her nose, inhaled the steam. “Look,” she said. “I get it. You’ll get it, too. Just…c’mon. You have to stay on top of this shit.”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“You weren’t.”
“I’ll do better.”
“I know you will.” And she curled the corner of her lip a little, threatening a grin, which managed to displace some of the shame pulsing in Paxton’s gut. But then the smile disappeared. Her eyes focused on something behind him.
Paxton turned and the bottom fell out of his stomach, like the room had just suddenly dropped ten feet. Vikram was standing in the doorway. Just standing, like he wanted them to know, yeah, he’d heard everything they said. Rather than say anything, he whistled a tuneless tune, moseying over to the coffee machine, giving exaggerated nods to the both of them.
“Hey, Vicky,” Dakota said, feeling out the words.
“Good morning, my dear. Just here for the coffee. Coffee is good here.”
“The coffee here is shit. We drink it because it’s free.”
“One man’s shit is another man’s smorgasbord.”
“That is not as clever as you think it is.”
Vikram shrugged and smiled as he tossed Dakota’s coffee pod in the trash and inserted his own. While it brewed he turned to Paxton and stared. It was an I got you, motherfucker stare.
“C’mon, Pax,” Dakota said. “Let’s go someplace with less dickheads.”
“Right behind you,” Paxton said, following her from the room. Once they were out of earshot he said, “That doesn’t bode well.”
“No, it does not,” she said. “You might want to clench up, because I suspect your ass is about to get wrecked.”
“Thanks.”
“I tried.”
They made their way down to the promenade. Every step Paxton took, every inch he put between him and Admin, felt like salvation. Maybe Vikram hadn’t heard them. Maybe he was just being smug. After a little walking Paxton figured, Hey, I’m in the clear, and maybe this would be a good time to get a cup of coffee.
His CloudBand buzzed. He looked down and found a message that made his stomach twist.
Please report to Admin to see Sheriff Dobbs.
He had stopped walking and Dakota hadn’t, so when he looked up, she was twenty steps ahead, looking back. First with confusion, then with realization. Finally, and worst of all, with a touch of pity. She nodded at him. “Good luck.”
Ten minutes later Paxton was standing in front of Dobbs’s office door wondering why he was even doing this to himself. Why not just turn around and walk away, like Zinnia said? Did he really need this job?
Which, yes, he did. He’d walked into Cloud with the change in his pocket. Roughly enough to set up shop on a street corner somewhere with an empty hat on the ground.
He held his breath, knocked. Dobbs responded with a terse “Come in.”
Paxton entered to find Dobbs sitting behind his desk, leaned back, with his hands folded over his stomach. He didn’t say anything, so Paxton sat in the chair across from him, folded his hands between his knees, and waited. It didn’t even look like Dobbs was breathing and his stare had claws.
The second hand on the clock made nearly a full revolution before Dobbs pointed his chin over Paxton’s shoulder and said, “Close the door.”
Paxton got up, pushed it closed. He didn’t like the way the room felt, like it was filling up with water.
“You mean to tell me you saw a handoff and you didn’t pursue, you didn’t even try to get a good look at the guy’s face?” Dobbs asked. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
The way he asked it wasn’t sarcastic. It wasn’t angry. It was concerned, and sad. Like he thought Paxton might be broken.
“I just figured, I mean…I was on a date.” He cringed as he said it.
Dobbs smirked. “On a date. Well there’s that. Listen, I cannot stress this enough. You work for me, you are always on the clock. I’m not saying you can’t live your life. But if you see illegal activity and you’re the only one around to stop it, then you have to step up and stop it.”
“I know, I just…”
Dobbs put his hands behind his head. “Musta been wrong about you. Too bad. Starting tomorrow you’ll report to the warehouse for scanner duty. That might be a better fit.”
“Sir, I—”
“Thank you, Paxton. That’ll be all.”
Dobbs spun his chair and squared up to his computer, pecked at the keyboard with two fingers. After a moment, and without looking up, he said again, “That’ll be all.”
Paxton stood, face hot, shame digging a finger into his ribs.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I’m going to make this right.”
More typing. No response.
Paxton wanted to grab him by the shoulders. Shake the old man. Show how sincere he was. But there was only one thing to do: make it right. He left the office, found Dakota leaning against the wall.
“Scanner duty?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good luck with that.”
“You ran Warren’s watch? Tried to find out who was with him last night?”
“Nobody in or out. You and some picker. But no man in brown.”
“The watches,” he said. “How do they work, exactly? With the tracking?”
Instead of answering Dakota stared at his third eye, boring a hole into his forehead.
“I get it,” he said. “I fucked up. I want to fix it. Just give me a chance.”
She kept staring.
“I’ll do it with or without you,” he said.
She rolled her eyes a little. Turned and nodded for him to follow. Brought him to a conference room, where she shut the door and picked up a wireless keyboard. Tapped the keys and one entire wall flickered on, a giant screen filling the dim room with artificial light. Paxton tried to make sense of what he was looking at. Wireframe schematics, and on them, countless tiny dots moving like ants.
“Press a dot,” Dakota said.
Paxton picked one at random, pressed the tip of his finger to it. A small box popped up on the screen, with a long mix of letters and numbers.
“Okay, now press and hold,” she said.
He did. The box grew, showing a headshot, name, and housing assignment for a middle-aged black woman with a shaved head.
“Watches track you, everywhere you go,” she said. “That much is obvious. But we don’t have someone sitting in a room, keeping an eye on everything. It’s passive monitoring. We can go back and review if we need to. So we reviewed the data from last night….”
Paxton watched a wireframe of the arcade. Two dots entered. Him and Zinnia. They stopped at Pac-Man. Another dot entered. Warren. Paxton broke off to go look at Warren.
Zinnia followed.
Behind him, out of sight.
After a little bit, the Zinnia dot made a quick leap back to Pac-Man. Then he rejoined Zinnia and they left.
No other dots. No man-in-brown dot.
“So he wasn’t wearing his watch,” Paxton said.
“You can’t even leave your room unless you’re wearing the watch.”
“Then he took it off and left it somewhere.”
“We get an alert if a watch is off and not in a charger for more than a few minutes.”
Paxton stood and w
atched the dots floating back and forth. Merging, breaking apart, forming random shapes. Like clouds. It was both oddly satisfying to watch and infuriating, because there was something there, on the screen. Something obvious…
“Well, you’re on patrol for the rest of the day, so…,” Dakota said.
“What does that mean?”
Dakota lifted her watch, tapped the face of it a couple of times. “It means you walk back and forth on the promenade. Transfer to scanner duty will be tomorrow. So head out.”
“All right. Well. Sorry, I guess.”
“Yup.” Dakota spun on her heel and walked away.
Paxton stood there for a minute, watching her leave. Annoyed at himself for being upset. He didn’t know why he felt so invested in this, but it felt like a mess he had to fix. Though, as he left Admin and climbed on the tram, rode it around to the promenade, he wondered what exactly he meant by mess. How was this a mess? Because he hadn’t worked extra, unpaid hours? Hadn’t put himself possibly in harm’s way?
But the more he walked the less he could think about that, and the more the issue of the Zinnia dot invaded his head. The way she’d followed him, the way she’d jumped back when he turned around.
She had been watching him while he was watching Warren.
GIBSON
Been a while since we talked, huh?
I’m doing my best with this, but it ain’t easy. Every day, I can feel it. Takes a little more effort to climb out of bed. Got this throb in my midsection now. I’m drinking coffee like a maniac just to keep myself vertical during the day.
You know what I keep thinking about?
Lasts.
See, the other day, we were rolling through New Jersey, and we’re going south on the Garden State, and I tell Jerry, my driver, to pull off for this sandwich shop. Bud’s Subs. I swear to you, there is no better sandwich on this green earth. And whenever I’m within thirty miles of that place, I have to stop by. So Jerry pulls off, and the poor guy had to wait on line for an hour and a half just to get inside. That’s how popular they are.