The Lightcap

by Dan Marshall

Adam saw a look on Velim’s face that could melt paint, replaced in a split second with a consoling smile, as if she were a mother about to tell her children their family couldn’t afford any holiday presents that year. She said, “Oh, he didn’t tell you? He mentioned he was going to send you all a message. He accepted a position with a company in the Cascadia Region, effective immediately. He didn’t inform us until after his shift yesterday, though he did offer to give a proper notice. After consulting with legal, we declined and parted ways amicably. We were sorry to see him go, but we understood his motivation, given the lucrative offer he received.” A plausible but unlikely story, Adam felt. Velim’s nails ricocheted off the glass table, tinktinktink, which made him wonder if she was agitated or just annoyed. After she finished speaking, her eyes took on a glazed look for a moment, most likely while issuing a silent command to her dome.

  Aria fell back into her seat with a sullen look and an almost imperceptible sigh. Adam, along with everyone else in the room, knew Velim hadn’t been completely honest. They also knew she wouldn’t offer any more information. Velim continued with her recap of recent Adaptech performance, then asked them to put on their Lightcaps and begin their day.

  Adam experienced a moment of hesitation as he put on the cool plastic device, its three enveloping arms resting casually at points along the back and top of his head. He wondered what would happen if he refused to wear it, then shuddered at a vision of himself as a poor beggar. Adam decided the transgression would not be worth its potential penalty. As he pressed the arms down, he felt them expand, two around the sides, ending just under his ears. The third arm slipped slightly past his hairline onto his forehead. He felt the arms click, making a sound which he had heard hundreds of times, and once again fell into the familiar ball of light.

  Everything was blue. The whole world had taken on the hue of the sky, viewed through a fisheye lens. For one heart-stopping moment, Adam was sure he had been thrown from an airplane in the upper atmosphere, as he perceived reality rushing toward him like a fastball thrown by a vindictive pitcher. It dawned on him at the last second, as impact seemed inevitable, that he had just removed his Lightcap. Adam snapped back to the room, like a rubber band pulled tight and then released, and looked up to see a screen displaying the image of LaMont where Velim usually sat. He noticed Damen’s chair was still empty. Concerned looks on the faces of those who remained told him Velim’s suspicious story was still in their minds. Though she had met with them over eight hours earlier, it felt as if she had been with them mere minutes before. As if summoned by their return, the screen brightness increased and LaMont’s mouth began to move.

  “Ladies, gentleman,” he intoned with all the trustworthiness of a snake-oil salesman, “I understand there were some questions about the sudden exit of Mister Theda this morning. I thought it prudent to be here when you, uh, came back to us, to answer any questions or address any concerns you may have.”

  Never before had Adam been able to hear the heartbeat of another person, but he was fairly certain he could hear seventeen other hearts as they raced, his own leading the charge. No one dared speak. It seemed several people had even stopped breathing for fear their exhalations might draw attention. Many fidgeted or averted their eyes, not wanting to be drafted to ask a question or be addressed in any way. LaMont had that effect on people even before he had been named Executive of Commerce, third in command of the entire Region. Adam figured he himself was the one with the least to lose by speaking, since he had worked for Adaptech the longest, and he also knew it would be difficult though not impossible to replace him.

  Adam stood and addressed the two-dimensional video feed of LaMont, framed in the thin black plastic line surrounding the screen. “Mister LaMont, we do appreciate you taking the time to address our concerns. While I can only speak for myself, not the rest of my team, it seems out of character for Damen to leave so abruptly. I can understand why he may not have the time to send a personal farewell to each person, but it troubles me no one found it necessary to notify me in advance of someone in my group abruptly leaving. Also, Doctor Velim seemed quite content to ignore Damen’s empty chair until one of my employees asked her about it. Why is that?” Adam didn’t want to call Aria out, even though LaMont probably already knew who it was.

  Adam had found unexpected boldness, his statements delivered with a steady voice and confident gaze at LaMont’s face. The executive, however, seemed unaffected, his smile frozen in place as Adam finished his question. LaMont regarded Adam for several long seconds, silent, which caused several in the room to stir uneasily. An unexpected laugh from LaMont, deep and genuine, broke the tension. They could only see him from mid-tie up, but Adam imagined LaMont’s hands were clutched against his belly. As the laughter subsided, he wiped an eye and said, “You geeks always put so much thought into everything. Damen Theda was a great employee for the time he was with us. But he’s also a young man: rash, spontaneous, thinks he knows everything. No doubt he’s romanticized his new job and location. It’s not as if he’s the first young man in his twenties to make a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was as much of a surprise to us as it was to all of you. Now, regarding the way Doctor Velim handled it, I accept some responsibility for that. I set her agenda, and she is beholden to it. I should have told her to add in something about his departure. I can assure you such an oversight won’t happen again.”

  Several faces in the room had adopted LaMont’s amused demeanor, infected with his laughter and confident explanations. Adam did his best to appear satisfied, but he wasn’t as convinced. He had always viewed LaMont as the sort who would shake with one hand while reaching around with the other to stab in the back. Duplicitous. Even as people like LaMont were held up as role models in society—and Adam did envy him in certain ways—he knew there were no significant amounts of decency or honesty within him, that there was only acute self-interest. The belly laugh had marked the first time Adam could recall seeing anything from LaMont approaching a genuine sentiment.

  LaMont surveyed the room from the limited angle of his video feed, seemed content his answers were well received, and went on, “I know it’s painful to have someone suddenly depart, even now that you understand what actually happened and why Damen chose to leave without saying goodbye. In times like these, it’s important to maintain team unity and morale. To that end, we’ve rented out Glass for the evening. Dinner and drinks are on me. Just don’t get too wild.” This last line was delivered with a comical wink, prompting nervous chuckles from around the table. LaMont finished with, “Go on and head over there. When you get to the bar, just tell them Roman sent you. They’re expecting you. Adam, please stay behind. I’d like to speak with you.”

  As the room emptied, stray glances shot in Adam’s direction. The mood had been improved by Roman’s information about Damen’s departure, even more so by his offer of food and spirits. In all the time Adam had worked at Adaptech, he could not recall a single meal or drink given even at a discount, let alone freely. LaMont was known throughout Adaptech for his frugality, so it struck Adam as not only noteworthy but of singular significance. Why would LaMont behave so strangely?

  The room quieted as the group left, until the door shut behind the last person, audible even to LaMont over the video feed. He asked for confirmation: “Are they gone?”

  When Adam nodded affirmatively, LaMont’s eyes narrowed and he continued, “Doctor Velim has said nothing but good things about you, that you are beyond any expectation of competency and resourcefulness, and that you are among the top fifty minds in your field. I only say this because I want you to understand that if you were anyone else, you’d have been out on your ass after that little stunt you pulled. I want to be very clear. If you ever treat me that way again you’re done.”

  Adam’s eyes lit up with shock and his mouth started to open in reply.

  LaMont continued: “Stop. Don’t speak. Again, it’s important this sinks in. I am not speaking in metaphors or hyperbole. If you disrespec
t me in front of anyone that way again, I will personally come down there and terminate you myself. Do you understand?”

  Adam gulped. Is LaMont talking about my life or my job? he wondered as a chill passed down his spine. There was a part of him that wanted to extend both middle fingers, rebellious and proud. There was a bigger part that enjoyed having a place to live. The bigger part won. He slowly nodded his head.

  “I want you to say it out loud. Do you understand me?” LaMont spoke his words with a measured intent.

  Adam croaked, “Yes, sir. I understand.” With that the rectangular screen in room 4C turned off, the light and colors fading into blackness.

  Adam made his way to Glass slowly, thoughtfully, and took the opportunity to mull what Roman had said. He felt fortunate this was only the fourth interaction he’d had with LaMont in the entire time he’d been employed by Adaptech, his first being after his new hire orientation, when LaMont had shaken his hand and wished him the best of luck as a new employee without even looking Adam in the eye. The second was during his final interview for the position to head the v6 programming division, when LaMont appeared disinterested and asked questions that could have come from a book titled Logic Puzzle Questions for Interviewees, none of which were relevant to the job. The third was LaMont’s terrible excuse for a pep talk given during the Lightcap project orientation. Adam’s three previous brushes with LaMont had left sour tastes in Adam’s mouth, but those tastes were nothing like the current one.

  Adam thought this might be the right time to update his resume, certain there had to be other positions and companies out there that didn’t come with the ego and cult of personality surrounding LaMont. Adam ultimately dismissed the thought the instant he remembered Adaptech offered him an opportunity few other companies could: to work with and develop cutting-edge technology. At his heart, Adam was a geek. He would have taken a position with less pay and more stress if it allowed him to work with technology not yet publicly available. He could never say that out loud, at least not to most. Instead, when discussing his work at Adaptech he mentioned the salary and company name, which impressed most people, before he brought up that he also enjoyed helping create the technology that drove society’s progress.

  Adam made his way from the subway exit near the bar, lost in thought and not minding his steps on the wide, empty sidewalk. Most residents in this neighborhood were too affluent to walk anywhere, which allowed him to progress without interruption, eventually ending at the entrance to Glass. He had only been a few times before, always in the summer, so he did not expect the difference in ambiance provided with the glass roof in its closed position, dusted with a light layer of snow sparkling in the moonlight, thousands of glimmers added to the already white-dotted night sky. Most on the v6 programming team had already had the time to down a drink or two, and now enjoyed relaxed conversation and free food. Adam made it halfway to the bar before Dej noticed and left a table with Aria and several others to intercept him.

  “Hey Adam, how’d it go with LaMont?” Dej asked, beer in hand. It seemed not to be his first one of the night.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” Adam replied as they arrived at the bar. He faced the bartender, finger held up to Dej requesting patience, their conversation paused, and said to the man behind the bar, “Aged scotch. Rocks.” He turned back to Dej and continued, “I’d rather just forget about it. Some people will always find a reason to be angry or to remind others they’re the one in charge. I’m not talking about anyone specific, of course. I do hope none of you think of me that way. I make an effort to be approachable as a leader. Honestly, in terms of sheer talent, I think there are a few coders on the team who would be better at this than me.” Dej was one of those people, but Adam did not want to come across as playing favorites.

  Dej smiled, understanding implied through blinding white teeth. He raised his pint glass and said, “To Damen.” The clink of pint and tumbler glasses echoed off the glowing blue walls surrounding the bar, then faded into the murmured conversation from the rest of their group. The sound caught the attention of Aria, who turned and noticed Adam and Dej standing together. She excused herself from her table, sneaked up behind Dej, and slipped her arm around his shoulder.

  “I hope this handsome man isn’t bothering you too much, Boss,” she said a little too playfully, her head leaning toward Dej’s neck. Adam was amused by her intoxication, having never seen her in a position of such vulnerability, her entire face lit up with overt affection. He had known her for almost two decades, but he wasn’t sure he had ever seen her teeth when she smiled before that moment. There was a clause in their employment contracts prohibiting romantic involvement between members of the team, but Adam was not one to pry. They both seemed drunk, and he felt no obligation to make assumptions about the nature of their relationship. Adam was happier not knowing the details. Plausible deniability. He’d had over twenty meetings with Velim, and she’d never raised any protest about the performance of either Dej or Aria. That was good enough for Adam.

  Dej, however, suddenly appeared several shades lighter as the blood rushed out of his face. He seemed tipsy, though not on the same level as Aria. Dej was sober enough to realize she had just got very comfortable with him in front of the head of their department. Dej froze, his mouth opening and closing a few times, his words dead at the back of his throat before his tongue and lips had a chance to cooperate. Adam enjoyed Dej’s discomfort and Aria’s abandon for several seconds, while doing his best not to laugh aloud. Finally, he brought his hand down to Dej’s shoulder with a muffled thump and responded, “No, Aria, it’s fine. Dej and I were just having a toast in honor of Damen’s next adventure. Not a bother at all.” He looked to Dej, who gave a sheepish grin, his teeth still distractingly white even with the color drained from his face. Aria’s deep green eyes filled with happiness. Adam smiled, winked at Dej, and continued, “You’re both clearly very drunk, so I’m going to let you enjoy that, along with the hangovers in the morning. I’m sure you won’t remember any of this.”

  As Adam stepped away from the bar, a soft sound played in his ear: the notification tone to alert a user of a new message. He noticed the conversations around the bar faltered momentarily, indicating strongly that the rest of them had received the same message. It was from Damen. They all started listening to it at roughly the same time, their discussions placed on hold.

  The soft computer voice read the message in his ear. “Hey, guys, sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. I just landed in Cascadia Province and got a chance to send a message. The position I was offered was too much to turn down, and they said they could only give it to me if I could start pronto. It was really great working with you all, at least I think it was, from what I can remember. Best of luck to you guys, come out and visit some time if you’re able to get a travel pass.” Adam saw relieved expressions circle the bar, punctuated by shaken heads. He heard small bouts of laughter and the occasional comments on the frivolity and the short-sightedness of youth, expressed with a mixture of condescension and envy. The existing feeling of enjoyment in the room turned to outright celebration, with glasses tipped and refilled several times over.

  Adam made his way around the room, stopping at each table to talk to the programmers, who were more cheerful than he had ever seen them. He made small talk with them, an act he found difficult but necessary, especially in a leadership role. He remembered once hearing that the higher up one was in an organization, the more diplomatic one had to be. Apparently LaMont missed that memo, Adam thought, imagining a stack of memos on LaMont’s desk several times taller than the stack on Nate’s. As they talked, he was again reminded of the lack of substance in their conversations, words traded over things as pointless as their chosen sports teams, the bitter winter weather, how the bitter winter weather affected their commute, how the bitter winter weather affected their utility bills, and the popular dramas on the vid nodes. It had been this way at every work gathering he had attended, but the past gatherings
he had attended had the added benefit of discussions of shared office experiences, experiences Adam and the other coders had been robbed of, thanks to the Lightcap.

  The group lasted late into the night, nursed scotch Adam’s only constant companion as he spent the better part of the evening moving from table to table, chattered irrelevancies giving his mind time to reflect on Damen Theda and the rest of his team. The message had been written with Damen’s style, but two aspects of the story didn’t sit well with Adam: Damen’s sudden departure and the convenient message containing much of the same language Damen used in daily conversation. It was also signed with his passkey, which really only proved the message had been sent from his dome, not that Damen himself had sent it. If not Damen, then who? And why? Adam wondered, not sure why he even doubted Damen authored the message. What more proof do I need? Adaptech had always been good to Adam, and he had no reason to doubt what he had been told. People changed jobs, even abruptly, all the time.

  Adam felt a moment’s anger with himself for not being able to be happy for Damen, for not being able to shake his persistent thoughts that conspiratorial shadows lurked in every corner. The last of his team departed Glass with waved goodbyes and loudly spoken admonitions for safe travels, which left Adam seated alone at a table, the city spread out before him, sparkling from his vantage point on the roof. As he finished his drink and stood up to leave, Aria and Dej reappeared, and Adam realized he hadn’t seen them for at least the past half hour. He had some idea of what they had been doing, but he thought it best to let it go, as the memories of their earlier awkward conversation were still fresh in his mind. He rethought his assumption as they drew closer, based on the frown Dej wore and the puffy skin around Aria’s stark green eyes. She had definitely been crying.

  “Adam, we need to talk to you,” Dej said worriedly, looking to Aria. “We think there might be more to the story. About Damen, I mean.” Dej still looked slightly drunk, but he had the sullen face of someone who had been at least partially sobered by reality. They all sat down at Adam’s table.