by E Y Mak
He took a sip from the paper coffee cup perched beside the laptop. “This applies when you are at your local Starbucks.” Faint laughter, and some groans, echoed through the room.
Candice appreciated his attempt at humor. Most of the trainers were former FBI, police, and special forces professionals who were concerned with practice over theory, but had zero personality.
“You may be asked to do distasteful things or act for people that you do not agree with. That is part of our job. If you can reconcile your actions with the words of the Creed, we ask that you cause such action to be done and be done well. The Creed has existed in various forms since the establishment of this organization in 1859.”
Candice looked down at the nametag on her white dress shirt. It was brass and nickel with frosted finishes and spelled out “Candice Pirelli, Investigative Special Agent.” It was much swankier than the one she had been issued during her brief stint at the FBI. She looked back up and scanned the room. About a hundred other recruits occupied the auditorium, all of whom had gone through the same rigorous six-month training together. Roughly one-quarter of the students would be headed to Intelligence and Investigations and one quarter to Research and Development. The remainder would be primarily in support and administrative roles. Phineas was a complex organization that needed advocates on its side to protect itself from regulatory, criminal, and political threats. The accounting and legal department alone took up seven floors of “Phineas Tower,” the nickname of the skyscraper housing the New York branch of the Phineas organization.
At the front of the room, Russell continued speaking. “In the 1940s, crime was rampant in New York City, and the city was desperate to find creative solutions. The original Guardian had already been fitted as a wartime surveillance ship, and Phineas volunteered it to the city to supplement the city’s limited police budget. This pilot project quickly expanded, and within two years the company had built a small fleet of thirty smaller airships to bolster the Guardian’s detection capabilities. The regulations surrounding this type of activity at the time were much less complex, and Phineas took advantage of this to advance the technology and to grow, exponentially, kind of the way Uber has been doing this last decade.”
Russell paused while he moved to a new slide, depicting a black-and-white photo of two smaller airships shining a spotlight into the darkened window of a small building near what looked like a pier. The shot seemed to have been taken from the vantage point of a third airship.
He continued, “These airships proved extremely useful at detecting and responding. In this shot, Phineas had detected some unusual activity near these docks. Two minutes later, three airships and nine Phineas agents dropped out of the sky to observe and disrupt the deal. The agents made the arrest on behalf of the NYPD right then and there. With Phineas on the watch, the crime rate in the city dropped to its lowest point in five decades. This drop continued until the 2000s.”
Although it was true that Phineas had contributed to a rapid decline in crime during the last half of the twentieth century, Candice thought about how comfortable people had gotten with having their private lives exposed. Perhaps it was a natural by-product of having a network of floating cameras above them. At this point, she sometimes thought that the population might even think that the constant surveillance was comforting.
Russell advanced to the next slide, which showed the modern Phineas surveillance drone next to a research scientist. The drone itself looked to be about the size of a motorcycle and had a top plate that mimicked the distinctive shape of the Guardian. The top plate was made entirely of solar panels that constantly charged the drone’s batteries, which in turn powered the eight vertical propellers and gave it seemingly perpetual lift.
“Our technology continues to advance with the current movement towards always-in-the-air drones,” said Russell as he looked at the R&D recruits sitting in the front. “Phineas is, and always has been, the technology leader in this space, and even where we do not have a direct presence, we license our technology to expand our client’s surveillance activities. It’s what we do best.”
Candice took occasional notes as the lecture continued for the better part of the hour and she observed Russell’s disconnection from the history and ethics lesson. She herself was distracted and felt an innate need to be connected. Though she knew that nothing truly urgent would arise during Phineas Academy, being tethered to her smartphone for years made Candice anxious to not have checked her work email in the last two hours. Thankfully, today was the last day of training, and she would be issued her company phone.
After an unusually dry discussion regarding the tenuous legal framework keeping the Guardian II and the use of surveillance drones in the sky despite constant protests from privacy interest groups, Candice tried—but failed—to suppress a yawn. Her small group had been in an endless series of lectures and training sessions since seven in the morning, and the fatigue was catching up to her.
Russell caught her yawning. “Looks like some of you are getting tired. I’m sure it’s been a long day for you all. However, the last segment today is usually the most interesting one to recruits,” he said. Embarrassed, Candice looked up and mouthed sorry to Russell.
Russell winked at her before pointing towards the screen. “Please head up to the penthouse. You’re all going to get the Guardian II tour today. Check your loading time with the schedule above. This concludes your ethics lesson,” Russell said as he moved to the new slide.
Candice noted the five thirty time slot for her group. She looked at her watch.
Still time to check my email.
Chapter Three
After dismissing the class, Russell gently set his laptop inside his brown leather briefcase before picking up his smartphone.
The envelope icon on his phone flashed brightly. Russell had noticed the urgent notification earlier, just before he had caught the attractive brunette yawning. He glanced at the display. It was an email from his boss and mentor, Daniel Peters, Director of Intelligence and Investigations.
Russell looked at the name with annoyance. During his early days at Phineas, Russell had impressed Daniel, and they had formed a bond akin to that of a police detective partner relationship. This had all happened before Daniel’s promotion to the directorship. Now, Daniel focused more on finding new clients instead of actual operational work. This was a good thing, in Russell’s mind, since he felt that he was given more discretion in his work. Unfortunately, one thing Daniel never really got the hang of was what the ”urgent” flag on an email meant. Every email from him was urgent.
Russell begrudgingly opened Daniel’s email.
To: Russell Woo
From: Daniel Peters
Subject:Directors Meeting - Update
Importance:High
Come by for an update once you are done training the kids.
D.
Russell skimmed the subject headings for the rest of his emails. Seeing nothing of immediate importance, Russell contemplated responding to Daniel with let’s talk tomorrow. Russell thought back on his week. He had clocked out no earlier than eleven every evening for the past six days—the preparation for this guest lecture had taken up much more time than he had anticipated, distracting him from his regular files. Years of late nights, including five years as a Wall Street lawyer, had trained Russell to be accustomed to a nocturnal lifestyle. His immaculately pressed suit and fully buttoned dress shirt suggested that he was more refreshed than he actually was.
Let’s talk tomorrow. Russell debated further and looked at his watch. It was his day-to-day timepiece, an Omega Speedmaster Professional, a gift from his father on graduating from law school. It was a relic by horological standards, devoid of atomic synchronization or an OLED display or the ability to withstand 10 Gs of force. But in a world full of fast-paced technological wizardry, it was Russell’s connection to a simpler time. Each morning, Russell spent fifteen seconds manually hand-winding the watch, giving the mainspring the
potential energy it needed to carry itself through the day. He knew that the 17:03 displayed was not entirely accurate to the second, but it was close enough.
Let’s just get this over with.
He loosened his tie and decided to meet with his director. After making his way to the seventy-ninth floor, he walked to Daniel’s corner office. The floor was still lively, with phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and people talking everywhere. Daniel was on the phone when Russell knocked on the office door, but he motioned for Russell to enter. Russell obliged and shut the door behind him. While Daniel was finishing his conversation, Russell presumptuously walked straight over to Daniel’s scotch chest and opened the glass compartment. He settled on the Dalwhinnie. He quickly acquired two glasses from the second drawer of the scotch chest before deftly measuring and pouring two fingers of the brown liquid. He finished off the preparation with a dash of bottled mineral water and sat down, gently offering Daniel the second glass. Daniel mouthed thank you to Russell as he took the drink and ended his telephone conversation.
“Hey, Professor Woo, how was class?” Daniel asked, mockingly.
Russell ignored the comment. Russell knew that Daniel considered teaching the introductory ethics courses a punishment, but it was something that the Human Resources department asked of all its senior agents. After some obligatory small talk about the New York Rangers (which only Daniel supported, Russell was a supporter of his hometown Vancouver Canucks), they got to the meat of their conversation.
“Russell, the directors are very impressed with your work so far. You’ve received excellent reviews from everyone you worked with, and things are looking very positive for you here. You may be up for a promotion to deputy director, directly under me. You’d have your own team. I might have made a strong pitch for it.”
“Interesting,” Russell said. There was no need to elaborate. A raise would undoubtedly help better justify the hours he was logging. But he was unsure of whether he wanted the added burdens of managing staff. He took a long sip of the scotch, savoring the hint of heather and honey.
“The only thing holding you back right now is something that’s out of your control. The firm is up for several major surveillance contract renewals, including the NY and LAPD contracts. Now, I’m working with Bob Regan to settle the terms with the NYPD, but I’m just giving you the heads up that those issues stand in the way of any formal discussion of a promotion for you in upper management’s give-a-shit department.”
“I get it. Need to make sure money comes in before money goes out.” Although he was not privy to Phineas’s financial statements, Forbes had estimated that the massive surveillance contracts represented between thirty and fifty percent of Phineas’s revenue in any given year. Although corporate espionage made headlines, the bread and butter of Phineas came from supplying criminal surveillance to local police departments. The only comparable revenue stream was the commercialization of the fruits of Phineas’s R&D, which generated about twenty-five to thirty percent.
Daniel said, “That’s right. But that’s out of your control. Just worry about keeping our clients happy. Scratch that. Keep the NYPD happy. We don’t want them going with anyone else or just ending the contract altogether.”
“Understood. Stay on the NYPD files. I’ve got enough on my plate right now anyway without following a cheating spouse around,” Russell joked. Phineas strongly discouraged their agents from scandalous or disreputable files, defined to include surveillance related to divorces and cheating spouses. Leave that to the small fish.
Daniel and Russell continued the conversation, talking Yankees, Daniel’s new Audi R8 and Spiegals, the oddly named but hippest new sushi spot in town. At 7:30 p.m., Russell excused himself and decided to head home. Before leaving Phineas Tower for the last time of the day, he stopped by his office to pick up his trench coat. The weather had taken a turn recently, and it looked like rain was in the evening forecast.
Russell flicked the light switch on as he entered his office. The first thing he noticed was the New York Times splayed across his desk. Earlier he had been reading the headline article—the Pentagon had suffered a cyberattack compromising over a million classified Department of Defence files. They hadn’t yet determined the source of the attack. However, sources had suggested a European or Asian origin. If one of the most secure government organizations in the world was susceptible, he remembered thinking, what chance did the average person have?
The second thing he noticed was the yellow sticky note attached to his monitor. It was a note from Miranda, his assistant.
“Call received 2 pm. URGENT. LUKAS BUTLER wants you to call him right away.”
Russell sat down and swiveled his office chair towards the monitor. He reviewed the note and considered the possibilities. He remembered frequently pranking other students in law school—but never with Lukas. The man was one of the most serious men he had ever met. If Lukas said something was urgent, Russell knew that he meant it. Russell picked up his phone and speed dialed Lukas.
He heard the dial tone ring three times. Then a soft click. And some heavy breathing.
Chapter Four
Before heading up to the roof, Candice stopped by her cubicle on the seventy-fifth floor. It was a standard six-by-six-foot unit, with five-foot-high dividers made of sky-grey fabric. It was a mundane workspace that wouldn’t look out of place in a mid-’90s software-development company. On her cubicle desk was a lamp, a Cisco IP phone, and an aging Dell desktop computer. She sat in the swivel chair, wanting to delay leaving as long as possible.
Despite Russell’s enthusiasm for the Guardian II tour, she was afraid of heights. She had grown up in American Falls, a small town in Idaho, where the tallest building was the three-story courthouse. Skyscrapers were fine for her, provided she stayed on the inside. She racked her brain for a plausible excuse to skip out on the tour. None came up. She took a deep breath and tapped the keyboard on her desk. The screen activated and she logged in.
No new emails.
She was satisfied for now but knew the anxiety of her digital addiction would soon return. Candice packed her leather work bag, grabbed her wool peacoat, and walked into the washroom. Inside, she stared into her hazel eyes in the mirror as she tied her brown hair into a bun, anticipating the wind outside.
She then exited the washroom and walked the length of the floor to the elevator. The elevator arrived quickly. She said hello to the three recruits inside headed to the same destination. Since her office was already on the lowest floor of the Intelligence and Investigations department, she surmised that they were recruits from R&D.
Forty stories later they were the top floor. Heavy concrete walls surrounded the elevator on all four sides. A yellow arrow on the floor directed them through a TSA checkpoint and then a second Phineas screening checkpoint. After clearing both, Candice approached the glass double doors leading to the open portion of the rooftop.
She walked through the doors. Instantly, a cold rush of air hit her, bringing to her nose the slightly acrid smell of exhaust.
She gasped as she saw the source of the smell on the far side of the rooftop. The Guardian II was an impressive sight, a spectacle combining the 1920s charm of the giant airships and an ultramodern, sleek design, giving the Guardian II a fantasy look. The sheer size of the airship was astounding, and only a tower as tall as Phineas Tower could host such a behemoth without causing significant damage to the adjacent buildings.
A fixed high mooring mast, approximately thirty yards in height, loosely tethered the Guardian II to the roof of Phineas Tower. Although she had seen photos in National Geographic, Candice had never been this close to the ship before. She estimated its length to be roughly three and a half football fields in length with a diameter of nearly half of a football field. The dark blue aluminum exterior contrasted the bright yellow Phineas logo on the side. Elongated and slightly wider than it was tall, the Guardian II looked more like a saucer then the dirigibles she had learned about in history texts
. Eight humongous piston engines marked “Rolls Royce” hung at equal intervals off the gondola clinging to the bottom of the airship.
“Ahoy there!” a deep masculine voice bellowed from the general direction of the airship.
Candice squinted, trying to find the source of the voice, and saw a bearded man with short blonde hair waving to her group from the pilot gondola. The man towered above the other crewman monitoring the hydraulic tethers. Like his compatriots, he wore a greyish-green uniform. Unlike his compatriots, his outfit was accented with a black mock turtleneck, the three pins signifying a command position flashing brightly in the fall sun. He stood tall, his head held high and his arms returning to a folded position behind his back.
Candice and her group of recruits hurried towards the airship, soaking in its grandeur with each step. To reach the airship gondola, the group had to cross a metal gangway onto a platform that dangled in front of Phineas Tower. As they reached the platform, the bearded man yelled again. “Hurry up! You guys are late! We have to lift off soon.” Candice took a deep breath and a very deliberate first step onto the platform, being careful not to look off the side to the hundred-and fifteen-story drop to Barclay Street. The platform felt robust and secure. She climbed the rest of the way up quickly, focusing on the plaid scarf of the recruit walking in front of her.
Once on board, the bearded man led the way through several narrow passageways to a mess hall where the rest of the students were already waiting. As they settled in, the bearded man introduced himself. “Good afternoon. I’m Captain William Hansen. Welcome to the Guardian II. I heard some of you fresh recruits were hired into R&D to help build a new one of these. Best of luck to you—she’s aging but she’s still grand. A fortress in the sky.” Captain Hansen licked his lips before continuing. “The Guardian can carry a complement of twenty crew and another twenty Phineas agents. She can load and launch up to four helicopters or twenty drones to respond to and engage with incidents or threats.”