Hadrian's Wall

by Felicia Jensen

He pursed his lips.

  “Mr. Cahill told me that you lived in an orphanage. I’m orphan too. I lost my parents when I was seventeen.”

  He handed me back the drawings, regretting for saying what he probably thought was an impulsive comment. I didn’t want to see that he was feeling guilty, nor make him recall any sad memories. Even though my curiosity was killing me, I was obliged to change the subject.

  “So, can I see your work?”

  “Sure!” he said, excited. “I’ll bring my sketchbook tomorrow afternoon. Is this same time good for you?”

  I nodded affirmatively. “Yes.” I was staring at his gloved hands, dying to ask. I decided to throw caution to the wind...as always!

  “Do you know Adrian Cahill well?” He shook his head, his expression became wary.

  “Well, I don’t know much about him. He offered me his help in a time when I most needed help,” Walter replied carefully. “I can say that he’s a benevolent person. He didn’t need to become my advocate, but even so he interceded on my behalf. He became my...how can I explain it to you...my sponsor?”

  I remembered Charity’s comment. She said almost the same thing about her cousin, but Adrian’s position as “sponsor” messed up my thoughts. What does this mean?

  “I...I’m indebted to Mr. Cahill,” he continued excitedly. “He trusted me so much that now I have been allowed to absent myself from the Pine Tree for a few hours every day, to get close to people...I mean, close to you...” He was fumbling. “...to help you in your studies. This is a great responsibility...being close to you, I mean. He wouldn’t delegate this task to anyone and I have a lot of colleagues at school who are dying of envy. I don’t want to disappoint him...or Mr. Wade...or you.” He looked down at the laptop, which displayed a page of a website search.

  This was the least coherent speech I had ever heard in my entire life.

  Walter was visibly nervous. Maybe he was sorry for having said too much, but I was really confused! The way he described the situation, his school sounded like a juvenile prison. I could even imagine a camp, like in the Boot Camp movie. Gee, but for me...enough is enough!

  Well, from those pale, weird people, we could expect anything. Since Alcatraz to “Fury 101”—the prison planet of the movie Aliens 3... Anyway, in my imagination, I guess it could be a place where delinquents full of tricks gained conditional release in return for playing the pageboy for crazy girls like me.

  My instincts alerted me to curb my curiosity because he could decide to clam up altogether. Maybe I can find out something about the Cahill family, if I play it tactfully!

  “Did you say that you work for Christian Wade in the Panther’s Cliff?” I tried to sound casual in order to disguise my hunger for information.

  His eyes sparkled and his smile widened.

  “I’m just an intern. Until recently, I just helped with some tests and calculations, within the dependencies of the Pine Tree—everything under the supervision of Mr. Semanich. Now I’m attending the computer and robotic lab of Mr. Wade, inside the mansion. It’s a great honor for me. My classes have become much more profitable now that I’m in constant contact with the practice.

  -“Mr. Wade is a man who might be called the new Einstein. He’s always giving us new experiences. I’m currently dabbling in nanotechnology and neuro-informatics.”

  The pride he felt for participating in these new experiences was evident in his voice. I struggled to hide my resentment because I wanted to see the Cahill mansion.

  “I assume I shouldn’t ask what it’s like, I mean working there inside the mansion?”

  His smile evaporated.

  “I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you anything about the property. There’s a security protocol.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  An embarrassed silence fell upon us. Walter gave me a look that was simultaneously puzzled, but supportive. He seemed to sense my frustration and as incredible as that seemed, I’d bet he was feeling sorry for me. I rubbed my hands together, simulating an enthusiasm that I was far from feeling.

  “And now? You’re gonna show me how this crazy PDA works?”

  He blinked, friendly like, then said, “It’s not a big deal, you know. There are much more complex mobile phones than this unit.” He reached for the PDA on the bed and opened its display. “Anyone who knows anything about computers, even just the basics, will learn how to deal with this little thing really fast.”

  He began explaining its mechanisms. “Imagine that you want to create a blog, or write a diary, which is almost the same thing as a web-blog, you know, just shared via online. Imagine you want to sketch some illustrations before deciding to save them to your PDA—or if you prefer, incorporate a finished digital to your manual outlines or vice versa. You can do all that inside your PDA and then, if you want, save your work in the computer or some external hard drive.

  “If you decide to write a diary, for example, you can create a link between the day of the week in the schedule program, where you record your appointments and a blank document. In this document, you can type your impressions of the day’s events and you have the opportunity to scan or import images to illustrate your text. By a link, you can post it on the Internet, powered directly by you. If you don’t want to publish it, it remains in the PDA, password-protected. But you can also set a password for the entire unit that will automatically shut down if someone tries to spy on its contents.”

  “Much safer than a hard copy,” I added.

  “No doubt, because it always seems that someone wants to read the things you write in the hard copy of your diary or your day-planner. Thus, you control what you want to publish and the whole thing is protected against eavesdropping gossips. Nor can an experienced hacker circumvent the firewalls designed specifically for your address book.”

  “Firewalls? What’s that?”

  “In general terms, they are security systems. People usually have one on their home computer. You have three, designed according for the complexity of your access ports. All high level.” He pointed to the keyboard, changing the subject. “Look this, set up for a blog or writing a diary will help your training for the essay portion of the test. You can also use it when you’re completing your application for admission to the university.”

  In the next few minutes, he showed me briefly how to use the main programs and their controls.

  “It’s very similar to a smartphone,” he said. “Actually, your PDA incorporates it with some additional advantages for a draftsman or writer. Say that you want to remember a more realistic format for your diary, such as what’s written on a sheet of paper. The cursor can be configured to emulate your handwriting.”

  “How?” I asked, amazed.

  Walter pulled a small screen coupled underneath the keyboard and took a stylus from his pocket.

  “Accessory number one,” he said, showing it to me.

  After selecting some commands, he began writing very slowly with the stylus on the screen. As the image of the letters formed on the screen, they were captured by one of the computer’s programs. He then gave another command and began to type new text on the keyboard that appeared on the screen in a manner that looked identical to what he’d written by hand with the stylus.

  “Wow!” I said.

  Walter had touched multiple command keys, but without explaining anything to me. When the silence ensued again, he casually said, “Ignore those settings. They’re essential to the formatting of the devices and ensuring the PDA’s good performance, but you won’t use them for what you’ll be doing.” I suspected it was not only that. At a glance, I visualized a map in two dimensions and a blinking red ball moving near the screen and then positioned right in the center of the screen. It looked like a geographical map. He clicked several times with astonishing speed. Walter had the skill of a gamer.

  Then the screen went dark. He returned to click a few commands and the program that opened the Internet came up, so he minimized it on the screen.

  “Rea
dy? Your electronic schedule is configured to send and receive e-mails, among other things. The rest you’ll learn by digging...experimenting,” he said softly. “It will be very easy.”

  “Yeah! It’s a piece of cake!” I said, grimacing comically.

  If he realized my irony, he didn’t show it.

  “If you have any questions, please call my cell phone. In fact, I recorded my number in your memory schedule, along with useful telephone numbers and addresses of the town. Then you can transfer the file to the phone, if you want.

  I haven’t got a cell phone, so I wasn’t worried about it just yet.

  I bent down to take a peek at the screen. Nothing remained the complicated symbols that he’d just opened. The only thing different was the wallpaper, which now displayed the beautiful Bluewater Lake.

  Looking at his wristwatch again, Walter said something about “having to get back to The Pine Tree before the curfew.” I looked at the time, which he’d set on the digital clock of my electronic schedule. It was still early, but I decided not to comment on his obsession about the time. He seemed nervous and rushed when he picked up his things and stood up. I did the same and accompanied him to the door.

  “Accessory number two and number three, respectively,” he said. “Headphones, in case you want to listen to your MP3 or something...and this is the smart battery of your PDA, if you need to recharge it on a computer.” Solemnly, he placed the small objects wrapped in plastic into my hands. “I believe that you’ll hardly ever need accessory number three. You’ll only need the solar battery.”

  “Unless Nostradamus and da Vinci were right...” I joked.

  He took a while to get it, but when the penny dropped, he let out a booming laugh.

  “Well, in that case, my dear, neither of the two batteries will be useful,” he replied, amused at my humor.

  I put the headphones and the battery on the dresser and we walked down the outside corridor.

  The side door of my room suddenly opened. I looked back and saw Delilah. My room is connected to hers, I realized. What an interesting...coincidence!

  “Hey!” She came running toward us, smiling.

  Something curious happened. When Delilah got close to Walter, her eyes widened. In turn, he straightened his shoulders. I felt there was some kind of silent dialogue going on there. She hesitated for a split second and then resumed her usual coquettish attitude.

  “Mel, we’re leaving for the party soon. Don’t forget your swimsuit.”

  Only then did I notice that she was already wearing a bathing suit. Her black bathing suit was a one-piece with white stripes on both sides, the kind used in swimming lessons. Around her waist, she’d tied a large beach wrap, in the same color as her bathing suit, clearly improvised.

  I scratched my head, thinking of all the reasons I shouldn’t go to that party. My nervousness did not go unnoticed by Walter. Hmmm... He and Adrian had one more characteristic in common: They both had the ability to understand my silence and my body language. I looked away, trying to find a polite excuse.

  Well, the first argument that came to mind was not necessarily the most important: I had no bathing suit. However, it seemed to be the most useful obstacle. The second argument that was far more important was around my chest. The uncomfortable brace was a constant reminder of my inability to participate in aquatic activities.

  Apparently, everyone knew that I had been hospitalized. Thus, it wouldn’t be difficult to use that situation as an excuse to not go; however, Delilah’s reaction wasn’t what I expected. I thought that she’d accept...well, she’d save me the hassle of explaining what was already obvious. Just so happens that the girl had a cow about it.

  “No problem at all! You don’t have to go into the water with us.” First, she pointed her index finger at me like Eddie Murphy’s Rasputia and then began to appeal. “Are you coming, are you, Mel? To keep me company. Please! Please! Please!”

  I was greatly puzzled. Delilah didn’t need me to go to the party because she had Abby and the others guys. I almost expressed my confusion, but I bit my tongue. The girl was acting desperate for the benefit of my present company. That had never happened to me before and I confess that I didn’t know how to behave.

  Walter met my gaze and frowned.

  “I think I’ll be going, Miss Baker,” he said, looking at his watch for the umpteenth time.

  “Please call me, Melissa.”

  We started walking again...with Delilah on our heels.

  “All right, Melissa. See you tomorrow... Have a fun party!” He rolled his eyes, careful that Delilah didn’t see him do that.

  I stood at the door of the hallway while Walter crossed the porch. I didn’t like to see him leave so early. His company was very pleasant, even with the aura of mystery that surrounded him’—something common among the weird, pale people. Besides, I’d like to know more about his relationship with the Cahills as well as the school where he was studying. It could only be a prison, otherwise, why would he have to get back there in such a hurry? It would be some kind of internship? Reform school? Maybe a military school...?

  I turned to the side and realized that Delilah was still looking at the porch. Attracted by my eyes, she looked at me with inquisitive face. I avoided answering the question that I read in her eyes. Obviously, she wanted to know why I needed an instructor. As there was nothing to explain, I went to the subject that really interested me in this moment.

  “Delilah, I don’t know if I should go to that party. I...”

  She started to protest, apparently having already forgotten about my instructor. Dramatic and insistent, she interrupted all my feeble attempts at argument.

  “Friends should support each other, shouldn’t they?” she asked.

  Even considering her strange despair, I found strength in myself to tell her no, again. She became visibly upset.

  Once she’d wrenched my reluctant consent from me, Delilah finally left me alone and went to her room. Before shutting the door, she shouted over her shoulder that I should meet her on the porch within five minutes.

  With a weary sigh, I returned to my own bedroom. I leaned against the door, looking around wearily. The study material that Walter left for me was spread on the bed; the PDA and accessories remained on the dresser; and my suitcase was partially visible under the bed. I decided to put everything away before I met the group. If I was late, no problem. They really could leave without me, right?

  After putting things in their proper places, I realized that the PDA was still on the dresser. Would it be prudent to leave it there, in plain sight? Walter said that no one can access its contents. I could lock the door, but I think that wasn’t usually done here. At least not most of the time. Prudence won out and I decided to hide it inside the drawer of clothes.

  I went to the door and hesitated again. Should I lock the window? After all, it overlooked the garden, which in turn overlooked the street...and before I find another excuse to stay, I finished this task and left.

  18

  ON TRIAL

  I leaned against the cold door and closed my eyes for a moment. When did my life turned upside down?

  The image of Bob’s truck entering the gas station in Berlin appeared in my mind. Whatever the truth about the events that brought me here, if I were not so determined to leave the past behind, I would not have met the incredible Cahills...nor have the chance to attend one of the best universities in the world.

  Destiny follows strange paths.

  I was still thinking about it when I was startled by a muffled sound behind me. I opened the door and looked inside the quiet room. It looked just like I’d left it, but I could swear I heard someone moving around inside.

  Despite the fact that it was still daylight, I turned on the light. I could feel the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. There was someone in there, but it wasn’t physical person. It was as if someone had just passed through without leaving palpable traces...except a strange vibration.

  I
went to the closet and threw open the doors. I knew I was behaving like one of the idiotic protagonists of horror movies—that instead of running away from danger, they ran to meet it. But I couldn’t help myself. Thankfully no one was hiding in there, otherwise, I might be dead now...and dismembered, but not necessarily in that order.

  I approached the window and checked the outside. Among the pansies on the parapet I could see part of the yard, trees with leaves not moving. There was no breeze to relieve the heat. The stifling temperatures that had befallen the region in recent days generated serious doubts about the season coming to an end. Alerts were still being issued by monitoring centers, reminding the local population about hydration and avoiding prolonged exposure to the sun. Some regions were still under threat of tornadoes.

  Absentmindedly, I touched the handle of the window and a sudden realization froze my hand in the place. I turned and pushed the handle back and forth repeatedly. A faint cry died in my throat. I had locked both windows minutes ago, but now they were slightly ajar. I jerked them closed and locked them and then I rushed out.

  I didn’t know what to do about this situation. After all, I’d caught no one inside. The whole thing could well be a figment of my imagination. Maybe, but I know I locked the damn window!

  Passing through the front room, I saw Keyra McPherson talking with two young men who were as pale as she. There was a counter next to them, dividing the area into two parts: the living room itself, and a reception area. One corner was filled with bins affixed to the wall below the curved staircase.

  Keyra looked up and gave my clothes a quick once over, probably wondering why I wasn’t wearing a bathing suit like the others. Her face was indifferent, but the look in her eagle eyes gave me chills. She waved and smiled impersonally. The two young men who were with her stopped talking and stared at me. Now there were three pairs of eyes piercing me like laser beams.

  I wouldn’t have felt so uncomfortable if they’d completely ignored me. I waved back and went straight to the porch where some students were already gathered, almost everyone talking at once. It was difficult to understand what they were saying.