Shadows Beneath: The Writing Excuses Anthology

by Brandon Sanderson, Mary Robinette Kowal, Dan Wells, Howard Tayler

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Sir, I thinkObviously this secret is worth way more than just a billion dollars.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“There’s more. You know that inbound marketing team we created?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“That happened two months before I was hired, sir. But yes. You acquiredWe’ve got a brain -trust and brought all your market research in-house.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“They’re not doing market research. They’re trying to positioning the company for the long game. We already know what the short-term future looks like. When the news breaks that this three-drug interaction extends the human lifespan, the entire product line will be nationalized by overwhelming popular demand, probably in a special legislative session. But before the United States does that, half a dozen other countries will already have deployed it within their national health care systems. We won’t own any of it.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​I nod. As predictions go, this makes perfect sense. There might be some small variations, but the end result is the samesounds spot on.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“So,” he continues, “the only way for us to make money is for us to be pre-positioned in other fields. That team is preparing us to capitalize on the disruptions introduced by an order-of-magnitude increase in human longevity.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Oh, I get it. WeYou’re not goplanning to get rich selling immortality. WeYou’re going to get rich helping the Hhuman Rrace make the transition to immortality.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“How valuable do you think this secret is?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“In numbers? I have no ideacan’t count that high. But if aYou don’t need to be protected from competitors. got wind of this strategy, no, if anybody got wind of the existence of this strategy, the information in this building, in our cloud, and in our heads would be too valuable to allow to go free. Those with the most resources to spend on acquiring that information and destroying any competing copies would be forced to spend those resourcesYou need to secure yourself against governments. They’ll break all their own laws and empty their treasuries to control this, if they think they can.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Exactly.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​I shake my head sadly. “Sir, I should resign. Mmy team is good, but if a sovereign state decides to pull a hostile takeover, the only thing we can do for you is shoot you before they have a chance to begin interrogating, and we’d hesitatethey’ll probably just take us down before we see them coming. You need an army, and a bunker.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“You can’t resign now. You know too muchThose aren’t realistic options.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Oh, I know that. I’m already contemplating expanded perimeters, plainclothes agents, dead-man-switch alarms. And of course I’m even more concerned about why you pushed the panic button.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Yes . . . about that. The intruder . . . I never described him to you.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“I figured you’d get around to it.”

  BONEYARD

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Go on.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Well, if it’s a side-effect then the company is gambling several billion dollars on a bet that is suddenly a lot less sure. But more importantly, you know that if the technology exists somewhere, anywhere, to allow someone to materialize and dematerialize here in your office, then the information here in your office is exactly where it would be used. But that would only happen if the secret was out, and was far enough out that somebody with very, very advanced technology had gotten wind of it.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Wollreich’s eyes widen as I speak. A mixture of fright and incredulity, like he’s been told a very believable ghost story.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Cole, that sounds like science-fiction.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“You’re the one cooking up the immortality drugs, sir,” I say with a forced smile.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“There’s a big difference between identifying a series of exploits in organic chemistry, and defying the laws of physics.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“I’m not a physicist, sir. Maybe it was a hologram, or an induced hallucination. My point stands. If somebody out there can do it, and the existence of this secret is out, your office is where they’d use it.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Well . . . how do we proceed?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Address the most likely issue first. Get tested. I assume the private meeting with R&D each Tuesday morning is a physical?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“It is. What do we do if I’m fine?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“If you’re fine, then somebody materialized in this room, or created the illusion of materializing. They had unknown means and unknown intent, but we can surmise that they did not want to be discovered by me or my team. I’ll need some time to chew on that. Also, my team should introduce an additional external perimeter, and someone should remain with you at all times from here on out. I hope that’s okay with you.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Perfectly okay, Cole.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Outstanding.” I pause for a moment. I should have asked this next question earlier in this interview. “Sir, did you get a look at the guy?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Wollreich locks eyes with me, and looks deep. I look back.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Yeah. It was Death.”

  #

  ​ ​ ​ ​I went into the Marines when I was eighteen, bright-eyed, broad-shouldered, and ready to save the world. Most of that idealism got sanded flat in Afghanistan, but in the intervening twenty years I’ve determined that I don’t need to save the world. I just need to save good people. I started my own firm so I could be picky about my clients, and Sinclair Wollreich is the best man I’ve ever worked for.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Which is why I’m aching inside. The bug in Wollreich’s office is a betrayal of trust, and I know that. He came clean with me, and I didn’t come clean with him. I could have told him about the bug, but I didn’t.

  ​ ​ ​ ​I did, however, get him to Wollreich agrees to an extendeda physical the next day.

  #

  ​ ​ ​ ​I don’t know how you go about testing to see if someone is prone to hallucinating, or if something’s going wrong with their brain, but Tuesday morning’s checkup runs into Wednesday with no breaks. And me, or one of my people hasWe’ve had eyes on Wollreich, or his bedroom door, ever since the event Monday morninghe briefed me, and that’s meant double shifts. Triple for me. Iit’s proving to be a bit of a strain.

  ​ ​ ​ ​It’s six AMa.m. on Wednesday. Barry has just checked in to let me know Wollreich is sleeping in today. Sleeping in sounds nice, but personal security for our CEO now means securing where he’s going to be, not just where he is.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Mo and I are in the second-floor lobby having coffee with two other team members, Failalo and Jace. We’ve got a nice view of the buildings that stand between us and the sunrise. We’re not really securing anything right now, to be honest. We’re hoping the sunlight will perk us up a bit.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“How long are we going to keep doing this up, Cole?” asks Failalo. She’s a soft-spoken Samoan woman with a wide jawline and crooked nose., but nNobody shortens her name to “Fail” more than once.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“The extra shifts? Until HR and I can clear some more team members.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Mo sips at his coffee. “What’s the holdup?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Well, if the event in Wollreich’s office was enemy action, probative or otherwise, then we’re up against somebody connected and equipped.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​I’ve told my team that our boss saw an intruder, all in black, who then vanished. The leadingMo’s theory is that it was a hologram made with lasers, but none of us have the background to research that. I didn’t tell them about the immortality drugs, or that our boss thinks he saw Death. And only Mo and Barry know about the camera we planted.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Oh, I get it,” says Failalo. “You think we’re being played. Somebody’s planted their own people amidong our candidates. They shoot some lasers through the window to spook us, we beef up, and
now they’ve got peeps on the inside.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“That’s one scenario. They might also have our hiring pool bugged, tapped, and flagged on their end, so they can watch our background check process and find the holes in it. So yes, I’m concerned that somebody pushyanked our panic buttonchain, and now we’re reacting instead of acting.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Don’t go Princess Bride paranoid, boss,” says Mo. “Both cups might be poisoned.” He tosses back his coffee, swallows, then smiles broadly at me. “And there aren’t enough of us for a land war in Asia.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​I’ve always loved that scene. I used to imagine how I would have handled things if I’d been in Vizzini’s shoes, and it was fun until I realized that I wouldn’t have taken that job in the first placefinally figured out that he’d been outplayed from the start. If Westley didn’t kill him, Humperdinck certainly would have.

  ​ ​ ​ ​My phone chirps. I’m out of range forIt’s a text message from the Bluetooth connection, so that phony wall -plate is texting me, an alert to let me know the feed is active after-hours. The camera has seen something. The message looks innocent enough.: “SUP YO. GO 4 EATSZ?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Mo’s smile flattens. “Somebody miss breakfast?” He knows the codes.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Upstairs, now. Mo, you’re with me in the service elevator. Failalo, Jace, take a lobby elevator to 31thirty-one, then take the west stairs to forty.” I drop a ten on our table to take care of the barista who usually doesn’t have to clean up after us.

  ​ ​ ​ ​On our way to the service elevator, Mo places a call. “Hey, Sal. Mohammed here. Check electrical, and find out if the lights just went on in Wollreich’s office.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Good thinking. Building security doesn’tmay not have cameras in thereWollreich’s office, but there is a motion -detector on his light -switch, and our electrical systemthe company monitors usage as part of somefor conservation planpurposes.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Got it. Thanks.” He turns to me as we reach the elevator. “Lights just went on. Lights areThey’re still out in the anteroom and the west hallway. Whoever turned on the office lights didn’t walk in the usual way. Also, the cameras on the rest of the floor haven’t seen anybody since Wollreich went upleft with Barry to drop stuff in his office at 3amthree a.m.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​I key the elevator for an nonstop ride. The illuminated numbers count up quickly. Mo and I are silent, but we’re both listening.

  ​ ​ ​ ​At 40forty the elevator doors slide open. That motion sets off the detectors, and the hallway lights come up.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Mo moves to step out, but I stop him. Somebody got onto this floor, and into Wollreich’s office, and we know nothing about them. They got here first, and might be expecting us. Maybe they spoofed the cameras and the motion detectors, but we can’t do that. As the hall lights just demonstrated, anywhere we go the lights will come up, so we can’t be stealthy.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Then again, whatoever spooked Wollreich the first time vanished pretty quickly, perhaps because it wasthey were afraid of us. If we’re slow, we’ll miss ithem, and if it’sthey’re afraid of us, that might mean we’ve got ithem outgunned.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Or maybe both cups are poisoned. Ah, Vizzini, how I hate being you. Just once I want to be the guy with the Iiocaine immunity and the winning plan.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“We go fast. Straight to the office, then standard entry.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Mo nods, and Iwe both draw and begin to run, weapons held low in two-handed grips. We run through two hallway intersections without clearing them properly, and each time I worry that I’m being a reckless idiot. But nobody shoots at us, and those intersections light up to the north and south, so nobody else came that way recently.

  ​ ​ ​ ​We reach the office. Through the frosted glass the anteroom is dark. Not full -dark, because it’s got big thanks to west-facing windows, but it’s oh -six fifteen. I hear a soft “tick” as the lock -pad next to the door reads my badge and unlocks things for methe anteroom door.

  ​ ​ ​ ​I’m in first, pushing the door open and sweeping with it to the left as the lights come up.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Clear,” says Mo.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Clear.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“TINGTing,” says my phone. Bluetooth connection, with data streaming in. We can look at that later.

  ​ ​ ​ ​I key in my code for the door to Wollreich’s office. No frosted glass here, and the door is soundproofed. No way to know what’s on the other side.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Tick. I grab the handle and pullsh the door open, forsweeping left while Mo, who goes to the rightleft in the brightly -lit office. I go right.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Clear,” says Mo.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“And empty,” I say. Not that I expected to find anybody here, not really.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Mo steps to the corner of the room where our cam dot should be. “It’s still there.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“I’m pretty sure there’s no point sweeping the rest of the floor.” I holster my weapon. “Let’s see if the camera saw anything.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​I pull out my phone. Swipe, code, and then a tap on the spy -app, whose icon looks like the one for a pizza place. I respond to the “ZIP CODE” prompt with an eleven-digit passphrasecode, and up comes the video file. I push playPLAY.

  ​ ​ ​ ​The video begins with the room dark, but it’s not full-dark because of those west-facing lit only by the brightening sky through the windows. Then a human-sized shadow dissolve-wipes into existence in the middle of the room, backlit by those windows so I can’t make out any details the moment it appears, but the lights come up very quickly.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Holy shit,” says Mo.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Hooded and all in black, the stereotypical, iconic representation of Death, complete with a scythe, stands in the middle of the office, and turns to face the camera.

  #

  ​ ​ ​ ​We’ve got my phone configured to ‘casting video to the wall screen by the time Mister. Wollreich arrives in his office with Barry on his heels. Wollreich is flushed, there are bags under his eyes, and he’s angry. Barry has all the expression of a granite bust, which means Wollreich has been chewing him out on the way over here.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Cole, how long have you been spying on me?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Since Monday morning, sir. I’m sorry, but it seemed prudent.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Prudent? After the lecture you gave me about the value of secrets? Spying on me is a lot of things, but prudent is not one of them.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“With all due respect, sir, you called us in a panic, then lied to us. I made a snap decision in order to ensure that my team and I could keep you safe. I’m standing by it, and”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“How come you didn’t tell me about it later?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Guilty conscience, sir. But I think you should watch this before we continue to discuss the matter.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Fine.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​I push PLAY, and Death appears on screen.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Wollreich gasps. “That’s him. Hot damn, Cole, you got him!”

  ​ ​ ​ ​I push PAUSE.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“We did, sir, but he’s about to start talking, and he talks fast. You really need to listen to this.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Wollreich nods, and I push PLAY.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Death is facing the camera, and begins to speak.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Sinclair Wollreich and . . . friends,” he begins. The voice is deep, male, andso it sounds masculine, but it’s almost musically artificial, like somebody auto-tuned Christopher Lee. “You must immediately cancel your organization’s life extension plans. Further, you must destroy the information related to it. Otherwise human beings will lose all access to the eternal realms.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Mo and I have already watched the whole thing. Then I had to explain to Mo that yes, the company was going to be extendin
g human life. I watched it a second time while Mo called Barry and told him to get the boss in here. Right now I’m watching Wollreich, who is sneering and eyerolling, giving the screen his “this-is-bullshit” face.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“The human spirit, or soul, is a turbulent waveform. At death, this turbulence allows the waveform to imprint across the boundary wave, transducing the wave to an eternal state with minimal degradation. As humans grow older, however, the turbulence is reduced. Some very old humans fail to imprint. Their original waveforms cease. In your terms, this means they die forever. Should human lives be extended to more than a century, very few humans will imprint successfully, and eternal life will be denied to your race.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Wollreich’s “this-is-bullshit” face gives way to deep concern.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“You have the ability, Sinclair Wollreich, to end this project and save humans eternally. Act swiftly.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Death vanishes. A moment later, Mo and I can be heard entering the anteroom, and then the video shows usMo and me bursting through the office door. Mo reaches up to check the camera, and the image freezes because I’ve pushed STOP.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Wollreich is leaning against his desk, arms folded, head down.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Cole, could this have been faked?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Probably. I’m not a video expert. But the second time I watched it I looked out the window. There’s a cloud that remained unchanged between the Death part and the part where Mo and I arrived. We could probably match that to other cameras in the building.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Wollreich straightens up.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Is that the only copy of the video?” he asks as he points at my phone.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“There’s a copy in the transmitter, too.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“And one in the cache on the wallscreen,” says Mo. “That one’s in dynamic allocation, though. Might already be gone.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Bring me the transmitter, and then we’re all waiting in here for the expertsbrain trust.”