Stasis (Part 2): Iterate

by E. W. Osborne

  As they grew more complacent, Kieran became indignant. A few snappy comments whispered during moments of applause turned into a near constant muttering under his breath. Julian watched the man peripherally as he thoroughly lost the plot.

  He’s so caught up in wanting to suck all the praise up himself, he can’t see that it was a blessing the Secretary showed up, Julian thought.

  After another half an hour of questions answered with platitudes, the meeting began to conclude.

  “As always, my door is open to any concerned citizen.”

  The crowd began to restlessly gather their belongings, so Kieran sensed his moment might be slipping. “As is mine.”

  Dozens of accusing eyes glared him back against the wall.

  To his credit, Kieran kept a friendly expression at all times as they filed past, shaking their heads at him with disdain. Julian placed himself out in the hallway opposite the door, under the guise of controlling traffic as the crowd left. He kept his station in the hallway and waited until all the members of public had left. With a glance at the time, he hoped Harriet hadn’t taken too long getting ready. If he had any hope of salvaging the MPs mood, and his attempt at getting closer, she needed to be waiting in the office as they walked in.

  Dughan conferred with one of his entourage, leaving Kieran lingering on the sideline for an uncomfortably long time. When he did look up and finally acknowledge his presence, it wasn’t a friendly greeting. Julian caught the first line before their voices dropped to whispers.

  “What the bloody hell are you getting at here, Kieran?”

  And even though the man had to practically stand on his toes to confront Kieran nose-to-nose, there was nothing lost in his delivery. Julian leaned against the wall, his hands pressed to the small of his back, and watched with a detached wonder.

  No matter how much we try to convince ourselves otherwise, it still is survival of the fittest. We might wear suits and comb our hair, but when it comes right down to it…

  The Secretary stormed out of the room and down the hall without a second-glance in Julian’s direction. Kieran stood with fists clenched at his sides.

  …the strongest always win.

  Harriet was waiting at Julian’s desk when they reentered the office. There was no red dress, but she didn’t disappoint. Julian spotted her straight away and was able to guide a silent and volatile Kieran closer.

  As they approached, she stood and bashfully tucked her long auburn hair behind one ear. The short tweed skirt and silky top gave the illusion she was simply stepping out on her lunch break. He had to give her credit. It was a much better outfit. Slutty and innocent all at once, which, as he considered it, fit Harriet perfectly.

  “What are you doing here?” Julian said, drawing his boss’ attention upwards.

  She gave him a shy smile and presented a thin pink box of pastries. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.” Her expression dropped as she noticed the tension, an almost comical child-like farce. “Of course, I can go if you’re too busy.”

  Julian didn’t have to look to Kieran for approval. The man, who only moments before had been a tightly wound ball of rage, inflated himself to full height.

  “With a gorgeous creature like you around? No work will get done,” he gushed, leaning in to kiss both her cheeks. “But it’s a burden I’ll just have to carry.”

  Harriet laughed, making sure to extend her hand to touch his arm as he pulled away. “You’re always full of compliments. A girl could get used to this kind of treatment,” she said, flashing wide eyes to Julian.

  “You didn’t tell me your sister was coming by today,” he said over his shoulder.

  “I had no idea, sir.” In the public part of the office, he made sure to keep up the formality.

  “I normally hate surprises, but I’ve had an exceptionally shite day so far and you’re just what I need.”

  Harriet tilted her head and sighed. “That’s terrible! What happened?” As she took his offered arm, she shamelessly pressed herself against him.

  Julian collected the box of pastries and followed them into the MP’s private office. Every intern and staff member watched as the trio disappeared behind closed doors and it was all he could do to keep from laughing.

  If this bothers you now, just wait for what’s coming next.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  South Lake Tahoe, CA

  PENELOPE SLIPPED out of bed as the first crack of dawn poked through the treetops. She tip-toed across the creaky wooden floor, checking several times to make sure Joey was still fast asleep. She gathered her clothes, dressed in the hall, and was almost out the door when it occurred to her he might be worried if he awoke and found her missing. She scrawled a quick note on a piece of scrap paper.

  Hey honey. Went for a walk, didn’t want to wake you. Breakfast when I get back? Xoxox

  The perfect morning air blew away any last traces of grogginess. The heavy pine scent, the pale blue poking out between the thick branches above. She took a deep breath in and held it until her lungs began to sting, wanting to hold onto the moment for as long as she could.

  With a light pack on her back, she started the trek toward Wesley’s house. Maybe it was the morning or the lack of caffeine, but she felt as though she were resolutely walking toward her destiny. Sure, she’d steered them up to Tahoe for the sole purpose of finding him, but that had been a hazy hope. There was no way of knowing if he was even still alive. Even though he was a little rusty on the hinges, there was a smart man in there still. If the Seeds were responsible for the uptick in violence, he was the best chance she had in figuring it out without alerting anyone.

  The tablet in her bag chimed. At the same time every morning she received a collection of news stories from the day before. Up until recently, she’d scroll through it over a cup of coffee in her office with a disinterested air. But since the waves of horror began crashing against her life, that alert filled her with a sense of dread. It was a matter of when, not if, this story broke to the public at large. If it was handled the same way as it had been in her hospital, she dreaded the outcome.

  As a fine sweat formed on her skin, she started to think Wesley had the right idea. Coming out here to live among the trees, breathing clean air and living on his own terms. Compared to the mess waiting for her back in San Francisco, she couldn’t blame him for a second.

  If it weren’t for Joey and the baby… she cut herself off before the thought fully formed.

  It wasn’t long before the wind brought the scent of woodsmoke to her nose. Wesley was up, waiting. They’d arranged one last visit before she left for the city.

  Penelope knocked on the old door and heard a gruff call from within.

  “Yeah.”

  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the cabin. Wesley was hunched over the only table in the place. A scattering of paperwork half an inch thick spread across the surface.

  He thrust out a sheet and waved it. “I have a list of things I’ll need.”

  “Morning,” she said, knowing the pleasantry was lost on him. Her nose crinkled as she got closer to him.

  Wesley waved the paper again until she took it. The handwriting was completely unexpected. Tight, neat, perfectly spaced lines of legible writing. She fired a quizzical look at the back of his head and wondered for the tenth time, Who the hell are you?

  “I’m not sure where you think I’ll be able to get all this,” she said as she took a seat opposite.

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  “The medical records will be difficult enough. It’s been a while since you’ve been in a hospital, I realize, but technology has moved on. The files are geo-tagged. If you take them from the premises, they self-destruct and alert the administrator.”

  He paused and looked up through his bushy eyebrows. “Then I guess you’ll have to figure that out too.”

  Penelope sighed. It was a strange moment for her, working with a man who’d disappointed her father almost as much as she had.
There was a lot to talk about, but none of it helped solve the mystery in front of her.

  “Can I help you? Are you looking something in particular?” she asked, turning one of the sheets toward her so she could read. He slapped her hand like she was an irritating mosquito.

  “Leave it. I’ll be with you in a second.”

  She swallowed an odd teenage petulance and pulled out her tablet, determined to show he could never get under her skin. With an eye around the cabin, she realized her hopes of getting something hot and caffeinated were slim to none.

  There was plenty of signal even this far out in the forest, but with Wesley’s paranoia, he’d set up a complex blocking system to keep the world at bay. Thankfully, her tablet stored everything locally, so she at least had a distraction until he was finished.

  Penelope checked her messages. Although she was on vacation, one of the nurses Cameron had quietly recruited to their side was still sending daily updates. The one from the night before piqued her interest.

  Expected another wave tonight. I scheduled extra staff but let most of them go after the first two hours. Nothing happened. Even for a normal night, it was quiet. Funny thing is, I think Dr. Hung was waiting for it as well. He showed up right as I was dismissing a couple nurses. He had some guy with him, too, definitely not a doctor. You said anything out of the ordinary, so I thought you should know.

  No sign of Dr. Richards.

  Her heart tightened a touch at the last night, even though she wasn’t expecting anything different. She reread the message and opened her mouth to say something to Wesley.

  He held up a warning finger and she clapped her jaw shut with an audible clack.

  I can see why he and my father parted ways. I’ll have to get the real story there at some point.

  With a set expression, Penelope read through a few more messages before scanning the news of the day. The tablet trembled in her hands as she started to read news coming from London.

  The troubles persist. At least 400 people from many walks of life have taken their lives. Just last night, nearly 80 cases were reported.

  The sudden surge in suicide has officials stumped. The victims share little in common and indeed, stretch across every religious and socio-economic strata.

  Penelope rested the tablet down on the table. Her hands were trembling so hard she feared she might drop it. Ignoring the old man’s protests, she continued to read.

  In fact, the only similarities that have been noted are geographical in nature. When plotted on a map, a pattern of sorts emerges. With three days of date, officials are reluctant to establish a pattern, but the growth is hard to ignore. London seems to be the epicenter of a spreading mental health epidemic.

  A few have drawn connections to the rash of violence across the Atlantic in the United States.

  Penelope couldn’t read any further. She scrolled to the top of the article and placed her tablet in front of Wesley.

  “What are you…”

  “Read,” she commanded, tapping the top of the screen with a commanding finger.

  For all the lack of technology the man had around his modest cabin, he navigated the tablet like a pro. There was a lot he kept hidden, of that much she was sure. She watched his expression in the glow of the device, waiting to see a shift. He read further than she, finishing the article, and pushing it away.

  She stared at him, mouth agape. “Well?”

  “What?” he replied without looking up.

  Penelope groaned with exasperation. “Oh, I don’t know. Just that a bunch of Brits are offing themselves in alarming numbers. Think that might have a connection to what we’re doing here?” she asked, gesturing to the stack of paperwork.

  “Of course it does.”

  “How can you just say that so calmly?” she sputtered.

  Wesley folded his hands and stared at her with an irritating peace. “And what good would it do to panic like an idiot? Does that change anything? Does that keep these people, who are half a world away, from slitting their bloody wrists?” he finished with a mock English accent.

  “No, of course not, but how can you…”

  His gaze grew intense and she shifted under the scrutiny. “If you can’t handle the pressure of this, find me someone who can. If my suspicions are right, things are going to get a whole lot worse before they get better.” He cleared his throat and returned to his paperwork. “If they get better.”

  Penelope found herself taking deep, calming breaths more often than not when spending time with this man. But for the first time, she realized he was right. It was easy to get carried away with unprecedented events. She had to remain calm and collected.

  “Fine. Fair enough. There’s something else.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “The catatonia, you know how we determined it comes in waves? There was a wave expected last night and nothing happened.”

  Wesley paused for a moment. “When did the suicides begin?”

  “A couple days ago, apparently.”

  He resumed reading as if satisfied with that horrific answer. “There you go.”

  Penelope’s head swam with the flood of new information. On one hand, she was relieved that the murders had apparently ceased. But on the other, the sudden cessation left her even more mystified. The moment she felt like they were getting somewhere, their patients disappeared.

  With a deliberate concentration, she focused on the facts, but kept catching on one small detail. It snagged at her mind like a splinter on an otherwise smooth piece of wood. It annoyed her enough, she muttered the question aloud.

  “How do the Brits know about the murders yet the public here hasn’t heard a thing about it?”

  Wesley smiled for the first time, almost like he approved of her question. “Since the Seed, it’s always been that way. What surprises me more, is that they know about the suicides themselves.”

  Her mind swam. She didn’t know what to do with any of this new information. The world felt a little untethered, like the invisible seams that once held it together were pulling apart all around them.

  The screen on her tablet went dark. Wesley returned to his reading and she sat quietly contemplating that everything she thought she knew about the world could be totally wrong.

  It’s too big. It’s far too massive for me to know how to deal with. When it was an isolated, bizarre hysteria in my tiny corner of the world, it felt manageable. Exciting, even. And then New York made it a bit scarier, but with Cameron, I felt like we might solve it together. Coming here was my last ditch effort but if this has spread to other countries, what am I even doing? This is a job for people with power, people we elect to fix things like this.

  Penelope lightly tapped her index finger on the table. “If this is connected to the Seed, I’m willing to fix whatever mistakes my family has made. But if you don’t tell me what you think is going on, I’m done. I’m out.” She could hear the defeat in her own voice. Looking back on that moment, she came to realize it was the only way Wesley would’ve let her in. No amount of demands or screaming would’ve broken through.

  He folded his hands neatly. “Obviously this is all conjecture since I haven’t been able to study it properly, but from what you’ve told me, I believe an individual or group is attempting to remotely control people using the Seed technology.”

  Cameron had said pretty much the same thing and even she had her own suspicions, but this declaration carried some weight with it. She didn’t know to respond, so Wesley continued, speaking to her slowly and deliberately.

  “But they’re obviously sloppy. They don’t understand how complex and delicate the human brain is, both physically and psychologically.”

  She struggled to keep up with his line of reasoning, mostly because she resisted the idea of a foreign entity being able to remotely control another human being. “You said attempting to control. You don’t think they’re doing these things purposely?”

  “There’s only one way to know and I need these things from yo
u in order to continue,” he said passing over a neatly written list. “As soon as possible.”

  “What is all this for?” she asked as she scanned the items, the tips of her fingers tingling.

  “I need to be able to test if someone is under outside influence, and then physically extract the Seed. If I’m right, it’s the only way we can stop them.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  New York City, NY

  June 11th

  KRISTINE HATED TO ADMIT IT, but she was starting to enjoy the time away from Christopher. Ever since the engagement and coming clean about the pregnancy, life in the small apartment had been… intense. Their normally casual, lighthearted conversation had all but disappeared. Everything revolved around the baby or the wedding or all the money they’d need to afford both.

  They had to find a new unit, one that accepted infants. As much as their unit had grated on her over the years, she’d come to consider the other residents like a second family. It was sad to have to say goodbye and beyond stressful to think about making new friends while coping with a newborn.

  So much had happened in such a short amount of time, Kristine needed the time to herself to sort through it all. And when things got stressful, Kristine made lists.

  The first full morning Christopher was away at his second week at work, she settled herself on the sofa to write out her thoughts.

  The baby stuff needs to happen soon. We need a crib, clothes, toys… and probably a bunch of other stuff I’m not even aware of. I’m pretty sure we’ll find a unit, but I’m worried it won’t be in time for the baby. What if we break the rules by staying here with a newborn? And between his new job and my savings, there isn’t a lot to worry about financially as long as we’re careful. If he really likes this job, maybe we can move out of the city… stretch our income even further, but I’m not sure I want to leave the city.