by Tessa Clare
She storms off before I can say another word, and I’m left to stand there dumbfounded.
The chants of the protesters surround me: “Hey, ho! The Divinity Bureau has got to go!”
I regret my words as soon as I see her walk away. Shortly after I see her, I text her.
ME: Hey. I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry about what I said. I want to make it up to you and explain the situation.
With those words, April has my number if she changes her mind. I don’t know what I’d tell her, but I feel like I deserve a chance – even if she doesn’t know the reasons why.
Still, the weekend comes and goes. Before I know it, ten days have passed.
I’ve spent the first half of that time trying to tell myself that I’ve done the right thing. It shouldn’t matter if I jeopardized my job for a girl that, now, isn’t even acknowledging my existence. I’ve saved a life, and karma is going to reward me for it.
The second half is spent pacing my apartment and berating myself for being that stupid. I have rent to pay, a mountain of student debt, and I’m sure that I can go to jail for obstruction.
By day ten, I’ve realized that I’m going to need to tell someone about what I’ve done. Anyone with a background in Computer Science is going to be able to figure it out, and it’s better for me in the long run if I come clean. I wake up early that morning with my mind made up. I’m prepared to face the wrath of my bosses.
“Okay, listen, Finn and Gideon,” I begin, a layer of sweat starting to form on my scrunched face. “I did something stupid, and I know you aren’t going to like it. I know you guys trusted me to run the election report, which probably wasn’t the best move – not that I’m blaming you guys,” I add hastily. “It’s all total my fault. Anyways, it might be a little too late for this, but you might need to add someone. You see, I took a girl out. Also, I might have followed her to work, and she might have given me her number. That’s okay, though, because she’s not answering my text, and it’s been over a week. Talk about mixed signals.” I attempt to laugh at the joke, even though it’s too depressing. “Anyways, please don’t arrest me or fire me, because I have student loans to pay and a family to feed. Yes, a cat totally counts as the family...”
My cat, an orange tabby that I named Neville, meows in response.
At the moment, my cat is the only member of my audience. I only have a few minutes before I need to leave for work, and I’m still struggling to find the right words to say. I try to envision myself standing in Gideon’s high-rise office, but when I open my eyes, I’m standing in a cluttered two-hundred-foot studio apartment. It’s not exactly the most motivating scenery.
I lean down to rub my hand through Neville’s fur. “I might have to bring you to a shelter.”
Neville purrs, stretching his back against the linoleum floor.
I rub his furry stomach. “Sorry, boy, but I won’t be able to afford to feed you if I go on unemployment.”
I shudder at the thought. Unemployment isn’t guaranteed; and even if I do qualify, it only gives me forty percent of my income for six months. I can hardly support myself on one hundred percent; and given this economy, I’m not sure if I can find a job in six months.
Neville rolls over and rubs his head against my hand, resulting in a resigned sigh from me. “Okay. Maybe I’ll starve for you,” I say, rubbing the cat’s head before preparing to start the day. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Wish me luck.”
The cat tries to follow me out the door, but I give him a gentle nudge back into the apartment. I lock the door behind me and prepare myself for a long day.
I live on the twentieth floor of a Chinatown building that’s designed only to have ten. The building used to be a motel; but when the real estate crisis came into effect, the owner decided to renovate the building and add several floors to accommodate more housing. Occasionally, I see people sleeping in the hallways. The front door isn’t quite secure; as a result, the occasional homeless person will trickle in. Coming from a farming city, this used to terrify me. Nowadays, I brush it off as a regular occurrence.
As I make my way to work, I allow myself to think that losing this job might be a blessing in disguise. I have a Master’s degree from West State University and two years of working at the Divinity Bureau under my belt. I might be able to get a job that will pay me more money. Maybe I’ll even get health insurance!
My optimism is crushed by driving through downtown, where reality hits me in the face. On every street corner, I can see people living in tents and panhandling for spare sterling. One man on the side of a freeway is holding up a sign that says: ‘Former Investment Banker Looking for Work.’ It’s true that there’s a chance I might be able to get a better job if I lose the one that I’m at, but there’s an even greater chance that I’ll end up on the streets. Am I ready to take those chances?
I park my car in the headquarters’ parking garage – on the top floor, as usual. I wait for someone to notice that something is wrong. The guilt on my face is stunningly clear to me, and I expect someone to pick up on it. Still, the parking attendant lets me through the gates. I’m greeted by a security guard as I make my way into the building. The facial recognition software still allows me into the office (though, if I’m completely honest with myself, I don’t think the facial recognition software will ever lock me out – not when I’m the one that programmed it in the first place).
I set my computer up at my workstation, determined to clock in as many hours as possible before facing the fire. I start the day off by checking my emails. Three tickets to work on, and a handful of emails. It’s enough to keep me occupied.
As the day progresses, the anticipation is overwhelming. I find myself walking into several conversations, wondering if any of my colleagues had caught onto what I had done. Are any of them gossiping about me? Maybe I’m paranoid, as many of them don’t know the first thing about databases. But what if someone does? By lunchtime, I can’t focus on my work. After staring at the same email for a half hour, I’ve finally decided to close my computer and get it over with sooner rather than later.
Gideon’s office is on the top floor of the tower. The building is shaped like an isosceles triangle, and the narrow point is his floor. I step into the elevator. When the elevator door closes, the last thing I see is bland gray walls and call center agents dressed too fancily for their line of work. When they re-open, eighteen stories later, I’m staring at a panoramic view of the city. The sight temporarily distracts me from what I need to do – until I catch sight of Gideon as he’s walking out of his office.
Gideon is a pepper-haired man of about one hundred and fifty years old. Every time I see him, he’s wearing a blue suit jacket and a black shirt; but he varies up his tie selection. Today, he’s wearing a green tie that reminds me of illness, probably the sickness that I’m feeling in my stomach.
He’s a member of the Gerontocracy Party, which holds onto the notion that elders should hold onto power. Because of this, he’s been in office for over fifty years. He also didn’t opt into immortality until he was much older – approximately seventy-five. His brown eyes make him look much older.
“I need to talk to you,” I say as soon as I catch up with him.
“It’s about time!” Gideon snaps. He isn’t slowing his pace, and I’m struggling to keep up with his long strides. “I can’t do my job with this damn virus on my computer!”
I stare at him. “A virus?”
“Didn’t you get the email?”
“What email?”
“The one I sent Finn three weeks ago!”
“Did you make a ticket?” I ask, mostly out of habit. I’m technically supposed to use the ticketing system to prioritize tasks.
Gideon stops to stare at me as though I had just asked him if the sky rains marshmallows. “Of course, not! God, I hate that ticket system. It’s such a hassle to navigate – plus why do I need to put my IP Address on the ticket? Isn’t it your job as an office assistant to figure
that stuff out?”
“I’m not –” I begin to correct him, but then I decide that it isn’t worth it.
“Have it ready in two hours,” Gideon calls out as he resumes his pace, ignoring me completely. “I expect it to be usable in time for my meeting at two o’clock.”
I stare at Gideon’s back, dumbfounded and at a loss on my next course of action. I don’t want to spend two hours fixing Gideon’s computer if he’s just going to fire me right after. At the same time, maybe getting rid of the virus will be enough to make Gideon happy enough not to fire me once the truth comes out. I turn my heel and head towards Gideon’s office.
Almost everything about Gideon’s office looks sleek – from the view of the city to the black and white artwork on his walls. The only thing that doesn’t look well-kept is Gideon’s desk, which looks as though a tornado had hit it. Papers are scattered everywhere. I don’t even think that I can see the plastic surface of his desk.
Wait, paper?
Paper is a rare commodity; and far too expensive to be worth the investment. Gideon has piles of them like they’re going out of fashion. One stack is enough to pay for a year’s worth of my salary. I could get a raise, but Gideon prefers to busy himself with a useless commodity.
The worst part is that I can’t even find his laptop underneath the rubble. I shift a few papers to see if it’s buried anywhere, careful to make sure I put everything back into its cluttered spot. When I don’t see it on his desk, I open a few drawers. I think it might be there, but it’s not. I walk around the room to see if it’s not a shelf. Nowhere.
Without any luck, I’m ready to give up on the search altogether – until I see a white hard drive sitting on his desk, blending in with the pile of papers. A button is on top. Curious, I approach the device and give the button a light tap. A computer desktop projects in front of me, one that takes up the entire room. I take a step back, unable to believe my eyes.
Gideon’s work computer is a Universe TX3000 – a top of the line computer whose manufacturer boasts a combination of portability and power. It utilizes a top-of-the-line high-definition projection system that’s completely touchscreen-based – thus making the computer as portable as a wallet. Its processing speed is nearly ten times faster than the bulky computer that I keep at home – and despite its small size, it has access to a cloud-based storage system that gives Gideon virtually unlimited storage space. I never believed in love at first sight until this moment.
I turn off the screen and bring the computer downstairs into my cubicle. I adjust the resolution settings so that the projector would fit into my workstation. Before I can get started, I receive an instant message from Finn: “Hey, do you have a minute to talk?”
I feel my face heat.
It wouldn’t be hard for Finn to realize what I’ve done, as I ran the report under his account. Still, I was hoping that I’d have the chance to come clean and explain the situation in my words before anyone found out.
Begrudgingly, I reply: “Be right there.”
I’m rehearsing my speech as I walk down the hallway and into Finn’s office. “I have student loans and a cat to feed…”
I knock on his door quietly, to which Finn responds by telling me to come in.
Finn Hannigan’s official title is ‘Director of Operations.’ He reports directly to Gideon, and I report directly to Finn. While every district chairperson has an assistant or two to help manage the workload, Gideon has Finn Hannigan. Finn, in turn, helps make sure that the Midwest region is running smoothly – especially the headquarters’ operations. Other than the fact that Finn is responsible for evaluating my job performance, this is as far as I know about the nature of his work.
Finn tells me to take a seat, and I willingly oblige. I feel as though I might have a heart attack.
“So,” Finn begins, letting his folded arms sit on his desk. “I heard from security that you’ve been coming in after hours.”
“I can explain!” I blurt out, though this is before I realize what Finn said. “Wait, what?”
“We’ve got a record of you on camera,” Finn explains. “According to security, you told them that you were fixing the internet. I’m just confused on why you’d need to repair the internet no one is in the office, to begin with!”
I blink, unable to believe that this is happening.
“I had a ticket,” I say lamely, even though we both know that that’s not the case.
Finn turns his head and gives me the side eye. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
It’s my opportunity to come clean about everything that’s happened with April – except I’m distracted by the fact that Finn is confronting me about my non-compete clause. I’ve been coming into the office after hours for two years, and I’m only being confronted about it now?
“No,” I say flatly.
“You’re on camera.”
“I don’t know what the big deal is.”
I can’t believe I’ve spent all day being afraid of this man. He’s a guy that forgets deadlines, pesters me for help on the simplest of computer tasks, and he even needs me to remember his password for him!
Finn sighs. “Listen, Roman. I don’t know how to break this to you, but security thinks you’re using the bureau’s facilities for outside business.”
“Outside business?”
“Making money on the side,” Finn clarifies. “That’s a violation of your employment contract with the Divinity Bureau.”
“Doing what?” I fume, even though it’s not far from the truth. It’s a rule, but it’s an unfair rule! “Who can afford a computer repair technician these days?”
The fact that Finn, of all people, is accusing me of violating my employment contract makes me seethe. I wouldn’t need to do extra work if they paid me more than twelve sterling an hour!
“Listen, Roman,” Finn says slowly. “I don’t care what you do in your free time, but now that I know about it, I have to address it. I’ll let you off with a warning; but don’t let it happen again. You might want to tell your business to go elsewhere.”
With those words, I’m trapped. I can’t survive on my meager paycheck from the Divinity Bureau. I can nod my head and agree with the hope that I’d be able to continue my business without getting caught – especially since Marla’s computer is still in the passenger seat of my car – but if I did, they’ll surely fire me.
The thought was enough to make me seethe. How can the Bureau refuse to pay me more money so that I can survive, but fire me for trying to supplement that income? I spend eight hours a day ensuring that the bureau’s technical systems stay running. Sometimes, I even take calls on my days off. I can fix technical issues before the Bureau’s IT department looks at their ticket queue. I even ran the election report! I didn’t need to, and yet…
A thought occurs to me. One look at Finn’s face, which is still waiting for a response, confirms what I’m about to do. “So, listen. I might have done something.”
Finn raises an eyebrow in astonishment. “What’s that?”
“Well…” I begin, thinking back to the phone call with Gideon. “Gideon called me a couple of weeks ago. He needed someone to run the election report, so I might have done it.”
Finn pales. It takes several moments before he finds his voice. He grits out, “That’s fine,” though his tone indicates that it’s anything but.
“I used your log-on,” I say slowly.
Finn jumps out of his seat. “Are you kidding me?”
Something’s not right about Finn’s reaction. I’ve had his log-on information for six months. We’ve never had issues.
I should stop talking, but I’ve been preparing myself for this moment for the last week. I continue, “I also took a name out. Her name is April McIntyre. I’m not sure if you know her, but she’s about five feet tall. Age nineteen. Brown hair –”
Finn goes from white to red. “Roman, you better be fucking with me!”
Now I know that something’s not ri
ght. “Do you know her?”
I wait for Finn to say something. Anything. He’s supposed to deny knowing the girl. She’s nineteen years old, for heaven’s sake! But I’m met with suspicious silence. Something is wrong.
“Finn?”
“That system is hard-coded,” Finn murmurs. “You shouldn’t have been able to do that.”
I’m astounded by his answer. “I have a Master’s degree in Network Security.” I pause, letting the last few minutes’ sink in. “Do you know her?”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Finn says, his tone cold and evading my question. “Obstruction with the election report is a federal offense that can land you in prison.”
“She’s a nineteen-year-old girl!” I say defensively. “I thought it was a glitch!”
Finn remains silent. I’m positive that I’m about to be fired in the next few minutes if I don’t break the tension quickly.
“Is it alright if we just keep it between the two of us?” I squeak. I hoped that I’d sound more convincing, but I’m too nervous to think. “I know I can get fired, but I have student loans to pay and a family to feed.” Pause. “And yes, a cat totally counts as family.”
Finn looks as though he wants to say few words, many of which begin with the letter ‘F.’ He finally grumbles out, “Fine.”
I feel as though a weight is lifted from my shoulders. I make a hasty exit out of Finn’s office, happy that I’m not going on unemployment anytime soon. Still, questions swirl in my mind.
Who is April McIntyre?
What does the Divinity Bureau want with her?
I’m in the process of taking deep breaths of relief when I feel a vibration on my wrist. Confused on who would be calling me during my work hours, I glance at my wrist and notice the caller identification.
April McIntyre.
This day just keeps on getting better.
CHAPTER FOUR