Four choices down, there was a short url embedded in the name of the sandwich. She glanced around but didn’t see anyone who looked like they were hacking the wireless. Just an old guy reading and three women passing a tablet around and exclaiming over baby pictures. Another ad? Well, her security algorithms were up to date. She double-tapped to open it, and a window with a blue border filled her screen. Inside the window, a crisp short paragraph of text read, “Job offer. Your teaching credential can lead to adventure. Watch for information about the Star of Humanity.”
She flipped the phone closed before any more of the message could show up. This was hacker stuff, not something she could trust. She got up to order from the human at the bar.
*
Susan Little put her arm around Mr. Lim’s stooped shoulders and let him cry. He felt thin and sad, and it was all Susan could do not to cry herself. It was always like this for her—she hated the tears and the loss because it affected her so much more than she thought it should. She had to work really hard to keep her game face on and stay professional long enough for Dr. Richards to show up and tell Mr. Lim, “You can return for the ashes day-after-tomorrow,” Dr. Richards told Mr. Lim. “Max is past all of his pain. It will be okay.”
Mr. Lim looked up at the vet and nodded, then patted Susan’s hand. “Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” There really wasn’t anything else to say. Susan stepped aside to let him shuffle out the door and over to the counter to pay. She shut the door behind him and walked into the back where Dr. Richards kept cats and dogs that had been left for observation or fluids or to recover from minor surgeries. Only one of the kennels had a dog in it, Blue, a big mastiff who was so far gone in drug-induced sleep he snored like an old woman. Half the cat cages were full, but only one was awake and unhappy; a little calico who was pacing with as much dignity as she could muster in a small crate.
Susan grabbed a Kleenex and wiped at the single tear sliding down her face.
Dr. Richards came up behind her. “It gets easier. Really. We have four more left today; a cat with a cold, a six-month check-up for Ms. Colson’s puppy, and two rounds of shots. Those should be easy enough.”
Susan nodded. The woman was all business, all the time.
“The cat’s already in exam room 2,” the doctor said, heading off in a very business-like fashion. Given that this was her last day in the clinic, Susan needed to leave a good impression. Dr. Richard’s evaluation and a final paper was all that stood between her and her vet degree.
Just then, the receptionist called out, “Dog on the way in. Got into a Prickly Pear after a rabbit.”
Great. An hour of pulling thorns out, or two if the animal was scared enough. “I’ll be right there!” Susan called and pulled out her phone to text a friend that she’d be late to a visit. There was a text waiting for her. “The Star of Humanity is looking for a few good vets. Watch for more information.” A recruiter. Well, she already had two interviews lined up; she could follow through on this later. She closed the message and started to tap out the one she needed to send.
*
A week later, Tanya walked across a stage and picked up her degree and the promise of her teaching certificate. A few school classmates cheered for her, but afterwards all she could really do was go home to her small apartment and her cat, Tom. Tom was no such thing; she’d fixed him right after she got him from the shelter, but it was the name he came with and she hadn’t thought of a better one. “I’m done,” she told him as she stroked his gold and white fur. He arched his back under her hand and stood patiently. “I can be a real teacher now,” she told him.
Telling a cat about it didn’t really do anything for her mood, which was wistful at best. When her dad was alive, he’d always told her to just keep her mind busy. She gave Tom another scratch and grabbed her tablet. It opened to a bookstore site, displaying history books and kids reading material. “No,” she told it. “Biology.” She was free of studying, and she’d continue her job search seriously tomorrow. The least she could give herself for graduating was a good book to read.
The list was way too big, of course.
“Climate. Northwest.”
That got it down to twenty. She started scrolling. There:
CLIMATE EFFECTS ON GRAPES IN THE NORTHWEST. At least the computer remembered she liked wine. She double-tapped and a blue-lined window opened inside of her other windows. She blinked at it, a vague memory of a job-troll tickling her memory. Irritated, she tapped the right corner to close the window. It didn’t budge. “Congratulations on your degree, Tanya. Are you interested in adventure? Your first clue will appear in three days.—Star of Humanity.”
Damn adware blocker must need an update. Come to think of it, only in-app ads should be able to get through, like ads for books or stuff related to her search. As she stared at it, the window faded, the right background and the book on the challenges with wine appearing where it should have been in the first place.
The damned net always knew everything, like that she’d graduated and didn’t have a job.
She abandoned the idea of a book and searched for Star of Humanity. Something about a diamond and something about truthful living from the Sikhs. Neither made any contextual sense. She snapped the computer closed, irritated that it knew what she wished it didn’t, but couldn’t find anything about a topic she did want to know. What was Star of Humanity, anyway?
*
Dr. Richards had given Susan a more glowing write-up than she expected. She’d updated her posted resume, which had yielded three online interviews that had turned into two offers, both of which required that she leave Arizona, one for the Midwest and one for Alaska. Farm animals, or sled dogs and sleet. At least the next interview would be for an in-city clinic. She’d have to deal with euthanasia, which she hated, but there would be a lot of very normal vet work.
The interview went well, with two vets and a vet tech on the other side, everyone calling in from home. Susan wore a good sweater and her gold earrings over her shorts, and stayed seated so as not to give away the shorts. East coast. She could handle that better than delivering cows or freezing, although she really wanted a job in Arizona. Just as she closed the video window, a new window appeared under it. She hadn’t touched anything.
“Hello, Susan. We need vets that want to work in a challenging environment on all classes of animals. Please consider meeting with our senior staff in two days. We will send you an address. —Star of Humanity.”
There was no place to respond, no box to type in, no phone number to call. A prank? A mystery?
She ditched the sweater in favor of a tank top and headed out to a good-bye lunch with two people from her graduating class. One was leaving for Florida the next day, and the other for New York.
After the greetings and the details of the two moves and Susan’s job offers made it onto the table, Susan leaned forward over her Mandarin chicken salad and asked, “Have either of you heard of the Star of Humanity?”
Both of her friends shook their heads.
When she got home, Susan called her advisor from college and asked the same question. After she got the same answer, she frowned and went out to meet another friend who already had a job, hoping a Mojito would help her get up the courage to turn down the two offers she already had.
*
Tanya found herself watching for another blue-lined window.
None appeared.
Three days later, no jobs or interviews had appeared either. Not even free internships. After four hours of staring at screens and re-formatting her cover letter three times for different applications, she got up and headed out into the gray Seattle mist for coffee.
Her favorite coffee house in walking distance was Café Pilot, a cheerful building with brown seats, yellow walls, paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling, and a rotating art display on the walls. At the moment, the art was quilted postcards with messages from the past on them. Sam, her favorite barista, looked up and nodded, ready to start her
usual drink.
She shook her head, her pockets feeling thin. “Just an Americano.”
“Room?”
“Sure.” Cream would give her a few extra calories.
Her usual seat was taken so she slid into the last available empty table by the steam-fogged window. She barely took her first sip when a tall man with glasses (who wore glasses any more!) slid into the chair across from her.
“Hi, Tanya.”
She’d be willing to swear she didn’t recognize him. Maybe from one of her classes?
He slid a card across the table. White, lined with blue. Paper. “Star of Humanity. Peter Accord.”
She picked it up. No other words on it, no symbols.
“We would like to interview you,” he said.
“Who are you?”
“Peter.”
“Your card says that. I mean the Star of Humanity. I can’t find it.”
He took a sip of his cappuccino and nodded at her. He looked pleased.
“Is it a new school?” she asked. “Maybe a startup?”
Now he smiled all-out. His teeth were the white of the well-insured in spite of his dorky glasses, which looked badly extruded from a home printer. His clothes were pretty top-notch, too. Her jeans and T-shirt were fairly new, but they hadn’t cost a year’s salary. She swallowed and waited for his smile to run out. When it did, he confirmed what she had been thinking. “It’s a private school.”
“Someplace for rich kids?”
Now he shook his head. “Not all. Look, I can’t tell you very much, but I’d like to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?”
She didn’t like this, but Peter didn’t feel mean or particularly odd, and after all, what could happen in the Café Pilot? “Sure.” She prepared herself for the first question, which would be something like, Tell me what you want to do.
“What would you think of teaching children of mixed ages?”
Wow. Something far more specific. “As long as it’s a class size I can handle. I’d need fewer kids at once to teach multiple grades. It’s important to me to teach. Really. Not adults, but kids. My mother was a teacher, and I want to be one, too. I remember how much she loved her job.” What else? “In mixed-age classrooms, the older kids can help the younger ones.”
“How important is it that your job is near here?”
Anyplace sunny would be nice. “Not nearly as important as finding a job I like.”
He steepled his hands in front of him and paused a moment before asking the next question. “You don’t own your house and your parents are dead.”
She tensed at that. Available on the web, but it meant they’d had to dig.
He continued after giving her a moment to adjust. “Do you have any other impediments to moving?”
“Just Tom.”
“Your cat could come with you.”
“Then I don’t mind moving.”
“What about travel? You state that you want to travel. Do you really?”
“Yes.” She didn’t talk about travel anywhere on her resume, and really only about travel books on her social networks, which she didn’t expose casually. “Do I get a turn to ask questions?”
“In a bit. We’ll be in touch.”
With that, with four lousy questions, he stood up and held a hand out to her. “Nice to meet you, Tanya. Good luck.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” Her voice sounded small and he was already halfway to the door. When Tanya looked down at the table, the business card was gone, too. Damn. She hadn’t even seen him pick it up.
Apparently she’d managed to flunk out of her first job interview in weeks with just four questions.
*
Susan woke to a message on her phone. This time, it appeared as soon as she opened her phone, as if it had been lying in wait for her. “Good morning, Susan. If you’re free at eleven this morning, please go to Civic Space Park downtown and look for a woman in blue. We would very much like to talk with you.”
Not even a signature this time. Just the blue window, which she already knew signified the Star of Humanity, whatever the hell that was. And of course she was free. No appointments at all today, no more interviews. She’d turned down the wilds and the cold, and there’d been no offer from the east coast. Her bank account was thinning, and yesterday her apartment manager had sent a note reminding her that her student subsidy was running out. Did she want to stay at the full rate?
Right. There was no one to answer on the Star thing. She cruised job sites for an hour and found two internships she could apply for. Only one paid, and it would require a move to Tucson. There were three volunteer positions. Not useful.
She ran through a morning yoga set of seven sun salutations with a few extra downward dogs thrown in for good measure, finally getting a little calm. Trust. That’s what her mom had always taught her. Trust the universe. Of course, her mom had done that, and all the universe returned was cancer and an ability to face the early and fairly nasty death the cancer gave her.
Better than nothing.
Yeah, right.
She chose a yellow skirt, a white blouse, and her best flats, and tucked a few dollars into a wrist-wallet. The only other thing of value she took—besides her phone in her skirt pocket—was her journal. As she headed for the metro, she contemplated what people felt like when they were going to court or on their way to pay taxes. Like she was voluntarily setting herself up to get fleeced, like she was being just as smart as whatever idiots answered emails about huge sums of money in Nigerian banks. As much as she tried to frame it in her mind as an adventure, she felt foolish and about twelve years old.
She almost got off the train and turned around twice.
The huge netted sculpture that symbolized the park came into view first, sun throwing highlights onto the odd collection of rounded metal and flowing metal mesh. When she was in pre-vet at ASU the sculpture had symbolized everything natural for her—clouds and storms and the way the desert was hard and soft all at once.
At least they’d asked her to meet them in a place where she felt at home.
The park was crowded with students, most of the tree shade taken by study groups and, in a few cases, by families out for a picnic. Rickshaw bikers sat in a clump of dark wheels and brightly colored forks and silver handlebars, talking amongst each other. She walked past them without so much as a nod. She was fifteen minutes early. Maybe she could have brought her e-reader. She pulled out her phone and then shoved it back into her pocket unopened. No one had told her where to go, so she walked. It was one of those blue-sky days when the temperature would peg under a hundred and the last snow-birds still wandered around Phoenix waiting for the winter to finish melting away from their other homes.
10:55. A couple abandoned a bench under one of the shade structures just as she was walking by. She slid into it and watched a man walking three dogs so small they looked like brown tennis balls with eyes and feet. One of the new engineered breeds meant to be carried around in pockets. Tea-cup Chihuahuas crossed with miniature corgis, improbable and very popular last year.
Exactly at 11:00 a woman slid into the open space beside her. She was small and compact, well-dressed in a flowing blue shirt of material that would stay cool in the Arizona heat and a pair of off-white Dockers. Her dark hair was bobbed just above her ears, and artsy silver earrings that sparkled a bit in the sun hung down the side of her neck. Maybe only twenty-five, really about Susan’s age. East Indian mixed with Caucasian, or something like that. She extended a well-manicured hand. “I’m Lana. Pleased to meet you.”
“Susan.” Of course they knew that, and so she found herself blurting out, “This is an odd way to recruit.” Her cheeks felt hot, but she managed not to look away.
Lana smiled. “I’m sorry. We are . . . protecting some intellectual property. That means avoiding the Internet.”
“I don’t know anything more than the usual vet student about gen-mods.”
Lana gave a small laugh. “Nor do I. That’s not
the primary IP we’re talking about.”
Susan waited for a follow-on reveal of some kind, but it didn’t come.
“Can I ask you some questions?” Lana asked.
“Sure.”
“We know it’s been hard to find a job you like. We need a few vets to help us out with an experiment. We like the person you seem to be. You’re earnest, your grades are good, and you got high marks in your practical work.”
“Right.” But that wasn’t a question.
“Would you be willing to meet with us to explore a job opportunity? We’ll have to put you under an NDA, and I can’t really talk about it now. But we can promise you at least three months of pay.”
“I’m not interested in experimenting on animals.”
“Neither are we.”
“Good.” But they could be doing something illegal. Not that they’d say. She thought about her apartment and her bank balance. “How much pay, and where would I have to go?”
Lana named a figure. Higher than either of the other two jobs she had been offered.
Susan swallowed and repeated her second question. “Where?”
“For three months, we’ll be in a training facility on an island. There will be about a hundred people there. Most of them are already affiliated with our project.”
“Is this some kind of a religious thing?”
Lana smiled. The smile lit up her face, a bit of humor contained in the look. “No. But you can’t talk about it. If we see any references on the Internet, the job offer will disappear.”
A couple with three children in tow walked past them. All five were badly dressed, the children in ill-fitting shoes. More of the city’s unemployed. The woman looked exhausted, with dark circles the size of quarters making small bruises on her worn face.
“I need to know more about it before I can make a decision.”
Cracking the Sky Page 12