I leave my apartment, go straight to the elevators, determined to beat Claire down there, I go down to first, exiting the elevator. The lobby attendant stations herself at the desk to my right, the doors out ahead, Oasis (coffee shop and other beverages like tea and juice) on the right of the doors. I go there often for breakfast — coffee and a small snack, since I’m not into a big breakfast every day. On the left exists Epicenter, supposedly the center of your epicurean world. I think I’ve never been inside with my only experience the tales of others (nothing to write about). Both restaurants frame the front of the lobby in glass. The back wall of both eateries display floor to ceiling windows. The seating wanders out into the outdoors.
I go out into the sunny day — good weather for running with partial cloud cover — to the edge of the grassy street, and see Claire near the opposite end of the seating. She wears a workout version of the same look, a black jacket with a zipper open at the collar and a lime green shirt underneath. The shirt extends all the way to her hands and peeks through the zipper sleeves open to half up the forearm. She leverages a foot on the table for a stretch. I near, noticing, seeing more
Her running shoes resemble racecars. Where did that come from? What are racecars? I don’t know why I thought that. Anyway, green trimmed vents engrave nearly the entirety of the black shoe body. These vents can be enlarged or completely closed off in an attempt to keep the feet dry and at a comfortable temp. A hexagonal vent reveals the front and top of her immaculate toes and a similar opening on the back at the heel. Alongside these vents two smaller square ones lead to channels on either side of the shoe. A mesh cradle holds her feet up against the channels, including centimeter wide round holes across the tread. I know from my shoes shopping that a selectively permeable membrane separates the feet from the open holes below. It allows air both ways. Water and moisture can only leave the shoes. I’m next to Claire. “Are you all ready?”
Claire straightens up. “Stretch and we can go. We wouldn’t want you to a cramp, now would we?”
“Right.” While we were talking, I see she has mahogany glasses on — the first time I’ve seen her with them. They seem familiar for some other reason, but why? They feature the usual red of the wood’s body under an enamel or wax. The deep walnut of the grain makes her eyes look lighter. Her hair seems even darker than it did inside. It’s almost black with a reddish hue to it somehow. I look closer and see that in every six hairs there's a red one. When jogging Claire does something odd at least by my standards, she almost completely releases the tech in her hair (something we all have) so it just stays out of her face, but it blows around free everywhere else and avoids catching or tangling.
Claire moves on to the other leg. I do the same stretch with the anterior portion of my sole on the edge of the table and lean into it — pretty much the stretches we do before each yoga “class”. I do the other leg which isn't as flexible as my right. The next stretch needs my heel on the table. I lean forward again and repeat with the other leg. The next thing is arms. I don’t think that’s necessary. Claire has been waiting for me to finish.
“Ready to go?” Claire bounces on the balls of her feet.
“Yes.”
We walk to a trail entrance on the edge of the courtyard. Mountain Overlook just has trails aboveground relegating the streets down below.
Claire says, “Look at this map of the route.“
I grab her wrist to transfer the route onto my eye screens. Another app transfers for communication like the last jog together. “It sounds good. Is that maintenance road hard to cross?”
She squeezes my shoulder until I react by shrugging off her hand. “No, I can keep both of us safe.” Claire does this sometimes when I can't hold position, squeezing the offending muscle until I notice the issue or the pressure. Must have shrugged or tensed.
“Then, what are we waiting for?”
Finding Claire
Wed 8/30/17 5:09 p.m.
Before she hears my answer, she’s off jogging. I start behind her at a distance, increase my pace to shorten the gap. The paths in the building corridors stay trimmed down almost to the ground, surrounded by natural growth. In this case, grass over a meter tall. The path meanders through the straight corridors, something unusual to me, but no one seems to even notice. They engineered the plants tender above a height. I still see some of it on the ragged edge of the path. Animals more selectively feed on this area than others. This mutually beneficial transaction goes on in the background. A left turn onto Pike shows up with a label on my tech screen. Four paths meet at one point. We turn onto the narrower Pike from Lake Park, where the Institute is. I finally reach Claire.
“Claire, I never knew you had vision probs.” I take in the sun glinting of her lenses.
She realigns her glasses self-consciously. “It is just environmental protection from too much sunlight entering the eyes.”
The sight of Ian's shimmering pupils enters my mind and transposes over my memory of Claire's face. “Why don’t you just use the tech options?”
“It is nostalgia. I’ve just always had glasses on when running. It also gives some protection from the wind and anything flying through the air. If I trip or something, glasses usually help. Odd eyes freak me out mainly even for a little while. ” She shudders a little.
A gust of wind throws out a lock of her hair. “I never noticed your hair was this black. What’s with the red?”
She examines her hair in the light by grabbing some in front of her face. “You noticed that?”
I look over at Claire with hair streaming in the wind. “Yes, inside I never could.”
“The red mixes with the black to look brown at times. Out here you can clearly see what has been there all along, the black with some red.” She smiles wider as I turn front.
“Why, is all I can say.”
“Like the two layers of anything. Take a book for example. You have the content printed in words. Then, you have why the author chose those particular words. What is the intent, the same with this. If you don’t look too close you see something. By looking closer you find a deeper, richer truth hidden right under the surface.” She sounds like this comes up a lot.
Are you actually like that? If you are, it explains so much. “Is that really a philosophy you follow?”
“Here look at my sleeve and tell me everything you see.”
She holds up her sleeve.
I try to look at it closely, but we're bouncing up and down too much. Every time I get it focused the sleeve moves. It isn’t working. Even the tech doesn't help. This makes no sense. Why am I indulging her?
“You can just hold onto this.”
She unzips her jacket and tosses it over. I try looking at it and just see black with some green specks, which I try brushing off. The green remains, part of the jacket. I look closer and closer, until I see past the fabric to individual strands of the weave. Some of the black strands fade to lime green and back to black. These are what appeared to be specks on her jacket. I toss it back. We’ve entered the wooded section of Pike Street.
Claire dons the jacket. “What did you see?”
“The black strands fade into green every so often. I suspect you can choose anything you want.” I go through my tech and switch my shirt to sky blue. Swatches of blue appear and grow.
Claire zips up her sleeves, carefully folding the inside sleeve as she goes, and leaves the jacket flayed down the middle. Claire likes to be prepared for rain always with high collared jackets or so she said. “So you can finally see and observe.”
We just keep on jogging. The woods on the sides of the path turn dense. Dappled sunlight comes through in places, faintly lighting everything in filtered sun. We just barely make out the surface of the nearby buildings. A shaft of light comes through by a downed tree propped up on the building facade. A lone deer lies in the limited range of the shaft, already looking at us — sees us as no harm and returns to its daytime slumber.
Claire takes a quick look
and that's it. “What do you think about becoming the Director of Research?”
I've mentioned it happening but not much more. “I’m still positive Gary made a mistake. I’ve asked him if he’s sure at least half a dozen times. He is always sure, never any doubt.”
“So, are you ready for it?”
Not really, but it doesn't change much either way. “Yeah, Irena has been great about all this. I should be all set.”
Claire itches her nose with a hooked finger. “Did Gary say why he chose you for this?”
We go onto Morning Way by turning right. “Yes. It still doesn’t make sense. He thinks I’m his only friend here. He said something like you see me as Gary not Dr. Stephens. I don’t know why he thinks any of it.”
The corner of Claire's mouth twitches a little. “He has always been treated differently. You were apparently the first person to not do that. You must have done something. Did he ever ask you for anything?”
“No." I comes back right at that moment, he was neurotic about Mekova denying him a promotion, and he asked me about her. "Wait, I think there was something. He asked me for info on Irena.”
Claire's eyebrows slide up. “What did he want that for?”
I watch my feet negotiate the uneven ground. “He thought he could get around the no promotion gift rule by getting something she actually wants.”
Claire purses her lips a degree. “What did you give him?”
A guilty wave cross my face at even the question. “Nothing. You know Irena. She doesn’t talk about anything but work stuff. She’s opened up to me once. I didn’t see any use of what she told me. I just didn’t give him anything.”
Claire smiles again. “I think you at least gave it a try. That was obviously enough for him.”
I wipe off my probably glistening forehead. “The job starts next week.”
“You deserve it. You were standing with one leg. You still did your job.”
Claire slows down, pulls me back, and off the path. We stand at the back of a wide tree, looking at each other from inches away. My palms start sweating I have no idea what’s going on. Why did we stop? She keeps leaning back and peering around the tree. She looks at me with a piercing gaze that almost frightens me.
Another quick look. “On the next tree over you’ll see why we stopped. It’s on the lowest branch.”
I move to see around the tree. A medium sized bird sits where she said at shoulder height. The green bellied bird wears yellow feathers on its head that turn black at the back of the neck. Black with cells rimmed in yellow cover the wings. The tail becomes blue from the black of the wings down. I move back and can still hear it chirping for something. A wild chaotic fluttering moves up the trail. A group of six or seven birds coming to the call, land on the same tree or nearby, and they all just sit there making many different noises. We take this cue to keep walking.
We whisper around the birds.
Claire first. “Why do you think Gary fired Irena?”
It feels like a secret, talking in the empty street, just with animals around. “I couldn’t tell you. Gary has just been all over the place these last 2 weeks. I don’t know how much of it he means to say.”
We start jogging again. “How about this, you can be Gary’s social filter. You can just interpret what he says to you based on what he would normally say. Does that work?”
Do I know Gary that well? Everyone thinks so, even Gary. Might as well accept it. “I’ll try. Gary feels it was unfair of Irena to keep him down for 4 years. He still feels she should have promoted him, and he despises the fact Irena wouldn’t accept promotion gifts. That is why he fired her or allowed her to quit. I’m not sure which.”
Claire starts talking normally, but how normal is hearing someone talk through tech during a jog. “Do you agree with Gary?”
I can't help smiling. “No, Irena just likes things her way, if she can. It is her choice what criteria to use. She uses purely performance to make that judgment.”
“You’d agree that isn’t common?” Claire zips up her jacket and pulls down both layers.
It's expected that each employee delivers a gift option by message. Free of charge as long as it originates from the promotion gift database. Stress inducing as I remember. “Yes, I’m sure Gary has always been promoted in a short time. Irena isn’t just going to go along with accepted policies. If there isn’t anyone good enough, that’s how it is. I know Irena hasn’t promoted anyone during her tenure.”
Claire stops right there, and I keep going, slowing down. Claire walks up to me, throwing her hair over her shoulders. “Have you considered where Gary would be promoted to?”
I lean back against a tree. “I’m guessing somewhere within the Institute.”
Claire comes closer and stands with a hand in her pocket. “Couldn’t that be to the Director of Research?”
I imagine Irena as a sinister puppet master, pulling Gary's strings, and cackling her head back in laughter with Kiros at her side. Stop thinking that. “I don’t think Irena was thinking about that. She has gotten countless job offers during her tenure. She could have taken any of them.”
Claire fingers her round chin. “So that’s why Irena is leaving the Institute.”
I knock the trunk behind me. “Can we talk about something else? I don’t feel like talking about this.” We start off again.
Experienced Partners
Wed 8/30/17 5:21 p.m.
After a while just jogging silently: “Okay, answer this. Have you ever thought you completely knew someone only to be wrong?”
I have to stall. I can’t talk about most of it. Irena’s betrayal. Gary can be the one. Jenna is completely out of the question. I have to think of something to say. “No.”
Claire slides up her glasses and moves hair out from under the ear hooks. “It happened years ago, but it’s still with me.”
I can use someone else to tell the story. That's transparent especially with Claire. It won’t work. Think of something ancient. I need more time. She can go first. “It did happen to me. Why don’t you go first?”
She scrunches her nose before answering. “There was a kid in my schooling years, Cody Lennox. You must have noticed someone like that in your school. He acted mute, but he was just there all the time. He became an invisible shadow. The only remarkable thing about him was he always had a hat on. His blonde hair was sticking out a little in the front. Except that, he just melted into the background.”
“There are always silent watchers everywhere." A line about cams from a paranoid author. Every generation has them. "What changed?”
A soft sigh. “Just let me get there. We had a required dance night. I went with a group of people, actually kids. Someone with blonde hair asked me to dance with him. I was just astounded that anyone would ask me. He was the most dressed up person there. I decide to go along with it.”
Impatience wins over. “What happened to Lennox?”
“After a quick dance, he leads me off the floor. He needs to get a drink. He takes my hand and leads me out. We stop at a nourisher. It won’t work. He takes me to an old drinking fountain. He explains something about how he knows about it. His swept back hair falls over his face. I instantly recognize him as Cody. He hurriedly pushes it back. He knows it’s too late. He kisses me on the cheek and runs back in. I never see him again.” The edges of her eyes crinkle a little more.
We just turned left onto Carmen Street. “What happened to him?”
Claire turns her head towards me and looks back. “That was it. I just never saw him around again. I don’t know what happened to him.”
“I’m next, right?” I smile saying that because of what comes next.
“Go ahead Conor.” Claire turns weary at my requests for permission.
“In middle school, my English teacher was Mr. Lauren. He was the best. He knew his stuff, but let us deal with the mechanical issues. He seemed ordinary in every way. Extraordinary was out of reach for him. We all liked the way he taught.” Eve
ryone has a least one really good teacher.
In the following pause. “Okay.”
“At the time an instrumental jazz song made the rounds. The most important part is the electronic sounds all the time. Some others chimed in at different places. I just was searching the net for an easy listen. I got one with Mr. Lauren in it. As a respectful middle schooler, I took it as my responsibility to send it to everyone in his class.”
We reach the edge of the forest, a thicket of brush. It changes over to low growing plants. Most lushly leafed with thick foliage. The grass is nonexistent.
“What happened the next day?”
I laugh right there. “We all waited for him to come to class. Everyone started laughing at once. The vid was hilarious. Mr. Lauren just fell into the musical deep end, crazy head bobs, profuse sweating, rhythmic foot tapping, and doubled over strumming, all for smooth jazz. Mr. Lauren asked us what is going on. This just caused another wave of laughter. I kept a shaky hand up. Mr. Lauren waved me over. I explained everything to him.”
Claire shuts her eyes. “You don’t have anything better?” Opens.
“You just have to see the vid.” No, really.
The grass canvases the ground — tall and thick as ever. The plants keep changing from grass all the way to thick, deep woods. The seasonal temperatures all year should foster more tree growth than there is. Rain possibly. In the 4 months I’ve lived here, it rained just about twelve times, lasting for about a day each time. Why isn’t everything just forest? What can be responsible for the different plant life? An uneven distribution of water looks like this. Low areas collect and store more water. Soil drainage makes the difference, too.
We arrive at a highly used trans-corridor (fast transport of goods) with buildings nowhere near. A good 10 meters separate the two. A nearby bench leads a vine railing that fences the corridor. We wait at the railing. Every sec or so, something zooms by with an accompanying whoosh of air. I can’t even see what it is at that speed. My first crossing of a high-speed one of these, good thing the tech guides. I can do it.
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