Encouraged.
Implied, mandatory.
I would be missing the speech.
If a Grey wanted to examine a great number of people in a hurry, a public scene was an ideal place to do it.
“You can take a break.”
My skin instantaneously chilled from surprise.
Ajel stood behind me, watching my screenboard over my shoulder with her face showing attentive/interest.
I resisted the impulse to shut down my screenboard, and instead pivoted in the chair to face her with a casual expression.
“This search interface is ideal. I prefer it to the system used by the public records office.”
Approval/benevolent replaced her expression of inquisitiveness. “Get yourself something to eat and be back here in half an hour.”
“All right.”
She smirked and headed down to her chamber of data.
Since I had no idea where to locate food close by, I wandered around the guts of the huge building, exploring instead.
The Arches National Archive structure occupied a large footprint, and it took me more than half an hour to evaluate the interior. By the time I returned to my desk, having managed a huge drink of water and nothing more, Ajel had not returned from the lower level, leaving me to take the brunt if our supervisor stumbled across the empty hotboards station.
No one came in to query the archive in person or digitally, and in another two hours we closed down for the governor’s speech.
I wasted no time and left the building quickly.
Since routine and predictability were my enemies, I meandered back to my apartment via a very different route than the one I’d taken that morning, and carefully observed every face along the way. If someone was following me, they were doing an excellent job of not being noticed.
My food supply was sufficient to prevent me from risking another burglary. Instead of using my time wisely that afternoon I indulged in a bath in the simple tub in my apartment, ate a small meal, and spent the remainder of the evening on my screenboard, exploring information about the other cities. I learned about their populations and locations and narrowed my choices down to four cities that were possible areas to relocate, but focused most of my attention on Sington, and Bay Harbor.
I sat at the small desk in my bedroom while working, and precisely two hours after sunset I felt my eyes drooping shut. I somehow managed to roll to the side, avoid hitting the leg of the desk on the way down and my last hint of awareness was feeling the carpeting hit my cheek as I plunged into unconsciousness.
∆
I woke up on the floor, my face dimpled from the carpeting, and my arms sprawled out to my sides. As I stood up, my neck complained about the awkward position in which I had slept.
Disturbed by the amount of sleep my body needed, and alarmed at the sudden and total onset of unconsciousness that was completely overpowering, I vowed at that moment never to take another bath again. Had I dropped into oblivion in the tub it would have been catastrophic.
Once again, twelve hours had elapsed and I had apparently not moved the entire time.
From now on, I needed to compensate for this nightly blackout and make certain that I was in a safe and comfortable position, before being overcome.
What could cause such a troubling sleep pattern?
Perhaps that would become clear at some point, but for now, my pressing concern was avoiding detection until I could find a way to forge documents and leave the city.
The sun was warm as I made my way to the archives. I’d worn a heavier application of cosmetics today, carefully slicked back my newly dyed black hair, and spent the time on my walk perfecting my New Dublin accent.
It was a simple matter to cut through a shop along the way and steal a supplement to my clothing. A black silk scarf decorated my neck when I took my station at the hotboards.
Ajel floated through on her way to the lower level, nodded at me as she passed by and mentioned something about the two of us sharing lunch.
It was difficult for me to process that only a day had elapsed since I had started this position. Already the monotony felt oppressive. Presumably, that meant my prior occupation must have been more exciting than working a desk at an archive facility.
Ajel and I met at my station close to the noon time hour and she took me to a small, cozy and attractively decorated café not far from our work.
After we were seated she offered her palm to supply the necessary funds for our meal and I thanked her graciously.
We talked of nothing pertinent until the food arrived. I ordered a modest salad, but when the woman set down the plate, it exceeded my expectations. Prosperity was normal here, so it seemed.
“So, what do you think of the city so far?” Ajel asked. Self-satisfied/knowing.
Alarm coursed through me.
I swallowed my bite of leafy greens. “What I have always thought of the city. It’s changing too quickly for my preference.”
“Since you are not from here, originally, I have no idea how you could think that,” she said.
I kept my expression neutral, but my stomach clenched. I’d just blundered. Somehow she knew I was not an origin citizen.
Ajel was not physically adept. I could outrun her. But could I outrun the enforcement officers she summoned?
“Calm yourself,” she said. “I know you are a refugee, although you hide it well.”
“How did you know?”
“Your queries on the hotboards. I can watch everything you do from my own station, you know. So can Killian, although he doesn’t care what we do as long as we leave him alone and never ask for a credit advance.”
I studied her facial expression, frequency and duration of eye contact, the tone of her voice, posture, and the quality and stress of her words.
Conspiratorial/sympathetic.
Ajel had no intentions of turning me in. She obviously thought I was simply a refugee trying desperately to integrate, which was fine.
Possibly even advantageous.
“How long have you lived in New Dublin now?” she asked.
I calculated the amount of time an average person would need to get a new apartment, new employment position, and yet still want to search for basic information about the city. “Two months.”
“And you are already a 40? Planning on being governor someday?”
I laughed. “What a thankless job.”
“Mostly he just manages the refuse and recycling programs,” she replied.
I stopped laughing. “That is an important function.”
Ajel rolled her eyes. “Oh, absolutely.”
“Imagine the upheaval if the work of managing the city’s waste disposal was not performed optimally.”
She stared at me. “I take back my previous statement. I can completely understand how you made it to a professional level so quickly.”
“In spite of my origins,” I said sullenly.
She chewed her grilled chicken cutlet, studying me. “I’ve seen other refugees settle in after a few years, and they seem to be getting along well. Don’t worry. Give it some time and you will too.”
“Have any other refugees ever left New Dublin and tried to relocate?” I asked.
She thought about it for a moment. “Not that I know of, but why would you want to leave? This is the most advanced city on the eastern coast.”
“I want to live in a cold climate someday, for the experience.”
“You could go up north to Bay Harbor, but it’s a stink-hole. Primitive. They build with actual wood, and you can’t understand a word they say. Everyone talks with the same annoying accent and after a while it makes you feel like you are slowly becoming more stupid.”
I laughed. “Are you from Bay Harbor?”
She bristled. Self-conscious/guarded. “I speak to them when we do information exchange seminars. Lucky for me, I’m from the west coast.”
She was lying. Ajel didn’t want me to ask her any more questions. She wanted to talk about my past, not he
rs.
“Are there any cities in the north that have snow?” I asked. “I always wanted to see snow.”
Her eyes fixed on my face and for a moment she stopped chewing and simply looked at me. Skepticism/attention. “Always?”
I nodded innocently.
“And walk away from all this?” she asked, waving an arm around the tiny café mockingly.
I shrugged. “Well, it’s probably just an escape fantasy.”
“I have those all the time during committee meetings. Finish your salad, rabbit. Let’s get back in case Mr. White decides he wants to do a fire evacuation training exercise.”
We strolled back to the archive building together. I took my seat and she paused before heading into the bowels of the building.
Her eyes were kind. “If you ever need advice, or just want to talk, I’m usually down there doing something. It isn’t always easy being the new girl, and occasionally it helps to ask someone who knows what it’s like.” Sincere/determined.
It was the first unforced and genuinely friendly exchange I’d experienced since regaining awareness.
“Thank you, Ajel. I honestly mean that.”
She gave me one last half-smile before heading down the stairs.
The next few hours passed with no queries on the hotboards and not one sign of a live client.
Which suited me.
I spent the rest of the day researching travel restrictions and improving my knowledge of typical social customs, popular idioms, and group mannerisms.
Just before the scheduled shutdown of the building, I momentarily left the desk and dashed to the bathroom.
When I returned, Flick was sitting in the client seat, waiting.
My stride didn’t falter as I walked casually toward him, and for an instant, his expression showed frustration/hesitancy. He’d obviously expected me to run and seemed disappointed he wouldn’t be able to tackle me during the escape attempt.
I pulled back my chair and sat down nonchalantly, considering the available options.
Running was not one of them.
I’d observed his effortless movements back on the ocean base and it was clear his speed and dexterity were far superior to mine.
Physicality was not going to get me out of this.
I gave him a friendly smile. “How may I help you?”
He leaned forward, positively radiating satisfaction. “You were not an easy person to find, Keeley Dorn.”
I flashed him my perfect impression of confused/baffled. “Were you expecting her? I’m Dess Steel. Did I replace her? If you had an appointment—”
“No,” he said carefully. “I did not have an appointment.” His tone was brittle.
“Well then, how may I assist you?” I asked, my fingers hovering over my screenboard.
“Madam Steel,” he said, “I suggest you inform your supervisor that your shift is over.”
“It is?” I asked innocently.
“Yes.”
His eyes darted to the stairs, distracted by movement.
I saw Ajel from my peripheral vision as she ascended the steps, caught sight of Flick, and came over to stand beside me with determined/hostile fixed unabashedly on her face.
Acid dripped from her tone. “Is your query experience proceeding to your satisfaction, sir?”
Flick stared at her. “Is my experience satisfactory?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “We strive here at Arches to provide the quickest service. If your query has been answered, it would be helpful to us if you would allow our staff to resume their duties, as the hotboards are very demanding work and there are other people waiting.”
She glared openly.
Flick gave her a dumbfounded blink. He looked at me, back up to her, and stood up sluggishly. His blond beard showed a couple days’ worth of stubble, his thick hair lay flat, greasy and disheveled, and his clothing appeared soiled. It was impossible to miss his bloodshot eyes.
Evidently, his search for me had been rather demanding.
A muscle in his jaw flexed as he stared openly at me. His attitude was unambiguous. Vexed/fascinated.
“We appreciate your patronage,” Ajel said icily, dismissing him.
Flick’s eyes drifted away from me and he smiled with feral enjoyment. “It was my pleasure.”
The pursuit had been an appealing diversion for him, and his look indicated he had no intention of abandoning it.
“Thank you for using Arches National Archives for your query,” I said robotically.
“Have a pleasant evening, Madam Steel.”
He slowly turned away and headed toward the door with a slight smile still firmly in place. Amused/intrigued.
As he strode from the building, Ajel watched him through the tall windows until he disappeared around the corner.
She sighed with obvious annoyance. “Sometimes the Greys abuse our archives in order to collect information about specific citizens. It bothers me.”
I gave her an understanding look. “I see.”
“If he comes back, send me a message and I’ll come up. They think they own all the data.”
She went back downstairs, clearly transparent in her belief that it was the archivists who owned all the data and not the Greys.
But they owned enough of it that he had managed to find me.
This was a problem.
Somehow he’d managed to trace my movements, but it seemed the search had been difficult.
This told me two things.
One: when I left my post in a few minutes he would be waiting for me. Two: someone was helping me.
It was the only logical explanation. I was certain that Greys had access to immeasurable resources. Finding an individual person would not be difficult with a population so small. Even in a city this vast, with the technology available, he should have been able to locate me in a couple of hours, but it had taken him three days.
Somewhere, I had an ally.
This person could manipulate the system. Otherwise, Flick would have discovered my whereabouts the moment I palmed my first screenboard.
This information was interesting, but not useful. I had no way to contact my invisible helper, and I was reasonably sure they would not be able to stand in the way of a Grey who intended to seize me the moment I stepped onto the street.
I needed to solve the immediate problem on my own.
When I left the building, my priority would be to evade Flick. How could I best accomplish that goal?
Logically, the best way to evade him would be to avoid using the front door.
I accessed my personal file and altered the address listed as mine, changing it to the apartment directly above, so if someone broke down the door I would hear it and might have time to escape. Then I located a schematic of the archive building and studied it for a full minute.
There. On the third floor. A possible escape route.
The office located on the corner of that floor had a balcony.
Three stories up was too far to jump, so if I wanted to reach the walkway alive I would need a second balcony beneath the first, or a rope.
Those two things were not available.
I studied the schematic again. None of the buildings surrounding the archive were close enough to jump to from our roof, and I eliminated that as a possibility.
Still, the roof could be promising.
Surely this building had provision for escape from a fire? Ajel had mentioned a fire evacuation preparation drill, so there was a way out of the building in case of an emergency of that nature.
After a quick search, I located the staff safety information and found what I was looking for.
On the north corner of the roof, two emergency evacuation chutes stood ready. They were constructed of static-producing plastene fiber. A person simply deployed the chute, climbed in, and slid to the ground inside the elastic tube, landing safely on the ground with wild hair but all of your limbs intact.
Perfect.
I waited until the su
n had set.
When it was almost dark I left my station and went up to the roof.
A hot wind blew in from the east, bringing with it the smell of the sea and a taste of salt. I didn’t bother to search for Flick. It would be impossible to see him in the dim light, and all I could do was hope he hadn’t thought of me leaving the building by this method.
The chute was simple to deploy. I pulled the bright yellow lever and it unraveled from inside the shiny box hanging from the side of the rooftop. As the chute tumbled to the ground I stepped up on the platform and crossed my arms over my chest as the safety instructions had indicated. Then I centered myself over the hole in the box and stepped in. The chute wrapped around my body like a giant glove, controlling my descent with friction alone.
I slid to the ground in seconds, managed to extricate myself from the chute quickly, and stood up.
No sign of Flick.
The building across from the archive was difficult to see and poorly illuminated, and with any luck, the darkness would provide a measure of cover. I located a back door and pulled it open as I rearranged my rumpled dress.
The building was an entertainment facility.
Loud music, dazzling lights, and a flurry of moving bodies temporarily stunned me as I tried to locate an exit.
I smelled of sweat, confectionary treats, and coconut oil by the time I emerged out the other side.
The walkway in front of the building bustled with activity and I casually walked out, blended in with the other people hovering around the entrance, and left via a side street. I walked on without bothering to stop and look for Flick. He was either on my trail or he wasn’t and there was nothing more I could do about it. If I’d tricked him then it would be a waste of time to stand around searching for him, and instead, I simply walked back to my apartment, shut the door behind me and waited.
Several minutes passed and nothing happened. I paced, staring at the door, wondering if Flick was standing on the other side preparing to kick it down.
Worrying about it would not accomplish anything and gradually I relaxed.
I ate a hasty dinner, dressed for bed and generally behaved as if I belonged where I was. If Flick intended to take me into custody, he would have to do it front of the other tenants, and I would be in my pajamas. It might not discourage him, but somehow it might help my case if he appeared to abuse his authority.
The New Authority Conspiracy (The Keeley Dorn Adventures Book 1) Page 7