VirtuaScape

by Kelvin Kelley

After a night of fitful sleep that even her medication couldn’t solve, Grace awoke to the morning sun streaking through the drawn curtains. She lay alone in the bed, glad that she was. The previous evening had almost been to much for her to bare. She had to take extra sleep meds in order to fall asleep, but even then it seemed that she had shaken in fear all night, with Mason lying right there next her. She had been deathly afraid that he would reach out and touch her. Had he, she was certain that she would have screamed. She had already showered and dressed, before she remembered the keycard. She bent down beside the air vent, and inspected it. There were no screws or bolts that she could see. It appeared to sit flush in the vent. She grabbed a nail file, and slid it under the edge of the louver, pried gently, and it popped free. She removed the vent, and looked inside the dark shaft. Cautiously she reached down and felt around. Her finger touched the card, and it began to slide away from her. She panicked and grabbed for it. Her hand closed firmly around the card, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She carefully pulled it from the vent, placed it in her pocket, and re-inserted the louver, just as Connor messaged her that he was at the front door. Exasperated at his timing, she nonetheless opened the door for him.

  “Morning, mam.” He said as he walked in, coffee cup in hand.

  “I could use some of that.” She said.

  “I’ll make it” He said, turning into the kitchenette. As he began the process of making the coffee, she walked over to the office door, and slipped the keycard inside. The lock clicked open, and she opened the door, taking care to flip the switch on the lock so that it would stay open. That done, she went back to the bedroom to put the keycard back in Mason’s book. As she carefully flipped through the pages, trying to find where she thought the card had come from in the book, she noticed that the words were not in English, much less normal letters. Instead the letters looked more like squiggles and script. She placed the card in the book, and closed the cover. Quran was the title of the book. She looked at in bewilderment. Quran as in Koran, she thought? What was Mason doing with a copy of the Koran? And what language was it in? Hindu, Arabic? What did she know about what dialect the Koran was written in.

  “Mam?” She jumped, and dropped the book. “Sorry.” Connor said behind her, as he stood just outside the bedroom door. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Coffee is ready.”

  “It’s okay.” She said, picking the book. “It’s been a rough couple of days. Connor?”

  “Yes, mam?” He said offering her the steaming cup as she approached him.

  “Have you seen this book before?” She said, accepting the cup, and offering him the book. He looked at the cover, opened it randomly and flipped through the pages, and then handed it back to her.

  “Standard issue Koran, mam.”

  “Standard issue?”

  “Yes, mam. It looks to be military grade. The type issued to Islamic prisoners under the Geneva Convention.”

  “Geneva Convention? That still applies?”

  “Yes, mam, though not officially per se,” He took a sip of his coffee. “At least not since the U.N. folded. Once the U.S. went under, there was no one left to pay their expenses.” She placed the book back in the drawer and closed it, wondering why Mason would have a copy of the Koran. “What’s on our agenda today, mam? I did not receive a brief this morning.” She passed him on her way to the office.

  “No place we have to be, right away at least, thank God. I’ve got the remote interview at three, and then dinner at seven.” She said, as she disappeared into the office. “When is Mason due back, do you know?”

  “Not sure, mam. He had a series of satellite interviews scheduled. His detail took him to the local media station at seven this morning.” She nodded, as she exited the office carrying Mason’s slate. She sat down in one of the chairs in the living area, and activated the device. She called up the picture of the screen from last night and began to ponder the password clue, Oswiecim. Possibly the password was a rearrangement of the letters, but try as she might, she could not see how the word would unscramble into a word that she knew. Okay, so if not an anagram, it had to be a foreign language. Unfortunately the study of foreign languages had taken a back burner once the Republic had essentially become isolated from the world. She wondered if Connor may recognize it. Taking a chance, she sent him a message that contained just the word.

  “Did you get that?” She asked, not wanting him to know that she was attempting to break into Mason’s slate.

  “Yes, mam. What about it?”

  “Do you recognize what language it is?”

  “Yes, mam. Polish.”

  “Polish?”

  “Yes, mam. It’s the name of a town in twentieth century Poland.”

  “Poland?” She muttered to herself. This made absolutely no sense whatsoever. What kind of clue is some town in Poland? What could the password actually be? “Connor...does this town have a different name now?”

  “I wouldn’t know, mam. There’s been no communication out of Poland for over fifty years. You know, since Russia annexed the country.” She nodded. Poland, she thought. She tried that as the password, but again the slate came back with an incorrect password error. Poland, Poland, Poland, she thought. What does it mean, she wondered. She had an idea.

  “Did something significant happen there? In this town?” He looked at her, then off in the distance, thinking back through his history lessons.

  “You know, it seems awfully familiar now that you mention that. Poland not so much, but there was a bordering country that comes to mind. Germany. What? Are you doing some type of crossword puzzle?”

  “Not exactly...Germany, you say.” He nodded. Silly, she thought, why haven’t I tried to look this up already. She phrased a query on her Smart contact of Germany and Oswiecim. She sent the query, and the response was instant. Auschwitz was the German word for Oswiecim. Auschwitz? It got more confusing by the second. She sent this response to Connor. He instantly began to nod.

  “That’s it.” He said. “It was several hundred years ago, back during what was called World War II. Oswiecim, Poland was the location of the German Nazi concentration camp known as Auschwitz-Birkenau.”

  “Concentration camp?” Grace asked. She vaguely remembered this term from elementary school history, but couldn’t seem to recall its meaning.

  “Yeah, concentration camp. The Nazi’s referred to them as work camps, or internment camps. The rest of the world referred to them as death camps. This was the Holocaust.” He said. She gasped, her hand reflexively coming up to cover her mouth.

  “My God!” She exclaimed.

  “Mam, I’m afraid he wasn’t there. At the camps, I mean. From what I’ve read, over a million of those of the Jewish religion were executed in that one camp. To have been the chosen people, according to their own beliefs, it sure seems like they were chosen for the wrong thing.” She stared at him, his gaze cast down to the floor, a solemn look across his face. He lifted his cup, sipped his coffee, but his gaze did not shift. With a shaking finger, she typed Auschwitz into the password block. The device hesitated, and then the main screen appeared.

  “Oh my God.” She whispered.

  “Mam?” He looked up. She met his eyes, then looked away.

  “Nothing.” She said, fighting back the tears that suddenly wanted to come. What did this mean, she wondered. Why would Mason have such and horrid password, and linked to such an awful clue. What could this all mean? Her mind ran high speed circles, as she began to explore his slate. She opened the secure messaging application, and reviewed a few seemingly innocuous messages. She tapped on the deleted folder, and saw a never ending series of assorted junk mail. She flipped though quickly, but found nothing of interest. Connor left the room to refill his cup and asked if she wanted more. She paused her search long enough to acknowledge his request in the affirmative, and passed her cup to him. Next she opened the contact list, but it was exhaustive. Some names she knew, some she thought she recognized, and most she had never heard of
. She exited the app, when she thought to check the sent folder. She reopened the app, and tapped on the sent folder. The first few looked like standard campaign correspondence, but one sent yesterday stood out. Where the name should be listed for the addressee that the message was sent to, was blank. She tapped this message.

  It opened, much like the rest, but instead of containing legible words, it contained only gibberish. Normal English letters, but they made no sense that she could tell. The message was short, consisting of only a few sentences. She blinked her eyes, to make sure that she was not seeing things, but the letters remained the same. It was total chaos, with no similarity to any words that she knew. She took a picture of the message for future reference, and closed the app. she spent the next hour searching through the slate, but did not find anything else that seemed unusual. There were tons of notes on the campaign, but nothing she hadn’t heard of before, and a lot of strategy plotting, but again nothing she had not heard of before. Essentially she began to become bored, and feeling rather foolish at having gone to such lengths to secretly spy on her husband. Sure, she thought, he was strange last night, but he’s under a lot of stress. Dear Lord, she thought, he is running for President. She deactivated the slate and took it back to his office. Seeing her own on desk, she activated it, and pulled up Reshmina Malek’s contact link and sent it to her Smart contact. Mission accomplished, and placed her own slate back on the desk. She gazed across the office once more to make sure everything was in place. Satisfied, she flipped the switch on the lock, and pulled the door shut. The lock clicked in place. Connor had looked up at the sound, but then looked away. She refreshed her coffee from the pot that Connor had made, and went back to the living area.

  She settled into the chair, and then called up Reshmina’s link. She sent a short message, expressing her worry over the events of the day before. Immediately Reshmina responded.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Alexander, for your concerns. I assure you, we are quite safe now.”

  “Oh, Reshmina, I am so sorry you guys had to go through something like that.”

  “I so understand now, how you had felt when the incident at the convention had nearly claimed your lives. Again, Mrs. Alexander, I am so appreciative for your concern.”

  “Please, call me Grace. Our husbands may be in a contest, but there is no reason that we cannot be friends about it all. If you need me, for anything, just reach out.”

  “Yes, thank you Miss Grace. Truly this is all a bit much for a simple woman such as I. I applaud your strength.”

  “I mean it, Reshmina. Anything, just let me know.”

  “I will, Miss Grace. I thank you.” It was a brief communication, but it had made Grace feel better. She knew exactly how Reshmina felt, and she felt it wasn’t right not to reach out to her. But now that it was done, she began to worry that somehow Mason may find out, and how he may react once he did.

  Chapter 14