by Tessa Clare
When we’re finally alone, Finn turns to face me. He says, “You’re running next quarter’s report.”
I glance around the room, expecting for there to be a catch. “For District 200?”
“No,” he says. “For the entire Midwest district.”
I feel as though my knees might collapse. “What?”
“Gideon wants it in the hands of headquarters for next quarter,” Finn explains. “The district chairmen will still be responsible for calculating totals and listening to appeals, but the actual report will be in your hands.”
I’m still recovering from the press conference, and now this bomb is placed on me?
I shake my head. “No.”
Finn’s mouth hangs open. “No?”
“I can’t do it!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “I can’t be responsible for the lives of that many people!”
“You don’t have a choice.”
I pace the empty office. The room, empty from the activity of the press conference, echoes back my footsteps. I don’t know how many people are in the Midwest region, but I know that it’s plenty. Will I be sentencing one hundred thousand people to die? A million? I think of April’s name on last quarter’s election report, one name out of ten thousand. A fluke, I once thought.
“Is it because of the press conference?” Finn presses. “If it is, I can assure you that the Bureau did everything they could before resorting to that.”
“My girlfriend lives in the Midwest region!” I exclaim. “What if she ends up on the list?”
Finn’s eyes darken. “We’ll cross that bridge if it comes to it.”
It’s not a matter of if. It’s a matter of when.
I clench my fists. “I overheard Gideon talking to some guy.” It’s a long shot, but I’m desperate. “Apparently, this guy gave Gideon a list of people – and a crap ton of money – for Gideon to elect. A lot of them are under the age of a hundred.” My eyes grow wide. “I think that this whole thing about trying to fight overpopulation is a cover-up for this guy to get what he wants.” It’s not population control. It’s murder.
“Do you have a name for this man?”
I hesitate. “No.”
Finn’s eyes narrow. “Roman…”
“I’m just telling you what I heard!”
Finn pauses as a realization hits him. “You said that your girlfriend lives in the Midwest region.”
I hesitate, knowing where he’s going with this. There’s no way I can get away with hiding the truth. “Yes.”
“Is it April McIntyre?”
A chill runs up my spine at the realization that Finn still remembers her name. “Yes.”
Finn turns away. This time, it’s his turn to pace. “Alright, Roman,” he groans running a hand through his hair. “I was willing to overlook the fact that you hacked into my account and blackmailed me. I was even willing to put up with the fact that you were extremely condescending over it.” I look away, a wave of shame going through me. “Yet I’m the Director of Operations – not you. And I don’t even need a fancy degree in computer science!”
My stomach feels jolted by the sting of his words.
“But don’t think that you’re going to drag me into some crazy conspiracy against the organization that pays my bills,” Finn warns darkly. “So, here’s what’s going to happen: instead of firing you, I’m going to insist that you walk out of this office. You’re going to run that damn election report – and if I find out that you so much as corrected a typo, I will have you arrested for obstruction.”
I open my mouth. “I –”
“And don’t even think about running it under my name!” Finn seethes. “Or you will spend the next five years in prison.”
I’ve never seen this side of Finn before. I wonder if it’s revenge for the way I treated him when I removed April’s name.
“Do you understand?” he finishes.
“Yes,” I answer immediately, but I’m not quite sure if I believe the phrase that’s coming out of my mouth. I think that the conversation is over, but Finn lets out a sigh.
“Listen, Roman,” Finn says, his voice softening. “I know what it’s like to care about someone to the point where you’d do anything for them. I have two daughters, and I know that I’d do anything to keep bad stuff from happening to them.
“But the reality is that the rest of the country depends on us. We make the tough choices between what’s right and what’s fair. They need us to remain unbiased, or we risk crossing the line between murder and control. Your girlfriend doesn’t take priority over the future of our entire world.”
I don’t understand. The work that the bureau does will always be a balance of right and wrong – and lately, there’s been a lot of wrongs. I’m brought back to April’s words on the observation deck: “I just had this thought that maybe if we all had good intentions – if we all decided that we wanted to leave the world a little better than before – it can be our greatest strength instead of our greatest weakness.”
“She’s a priority to me,” I say firmly. Then I turn to walk away.
Over the next couple of weeks, I debate on telling April. I think that she deserves to know. If these upcoming weeks are going to be her last, she deserves to have the chance to live them to the fullest.
But I can never find the appropriate way to bring it up. If I told her that I’ve been digging into her family history, I risk alienating her; and I’m too selfish to do that, especially if she’s on her last leg.
Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t know. She’s been in a cheery mood lately. Occasionally, she’ll gripe about things at work – but the moment that we’re in each other’s arms, the negative energy drifts away.
That’s not the case tonight. April wanted to come over to my apartment, but I told her that I have a lot of work to do. Instead, she settled for calling me to gripe about her job.
“So, the new girl was all like, ‘Don't worry, sir. I'll make sure you get extra whipped cream on your blended mocha.’ I made the drink, handed it to the customer, and, of course, being the little snot that she is, she took the damn drink from my hand and insisted that I didn't have enough whipped cream on it. She pulled the lid off, added a little extra whip, and next thing I knew, it was all over her apron!”
April pauses, expecting there to be a hoot of laughter; but I spaced out halfway through the story. My mind is on coding, computer injections, and election reports.
“Roman? You there?”
I look away from my computer and attempt to bring myself back to the conversation. “Yeah, sorry. I just got distracted for a second.”
“Don’t tell me you’re spacing out for another video,” she says, disapproval in her tone. She pauses. “Speaking of which, I demand a rematch in Combat Warriors. I just looked up a whole bunch of motion combos, so I think that should level out the playing field.”
I laugh, a memory coming to mind.
“I'm so done with this game,” April had said after he had defeated her in a battle for the fifth time in a row. “You win.”
“Oh, come on. If you beat me next round, I'll take extra good care of you afterward.”
I glance around the apartment. My laptop is open, a useless algorithm on its screen. I had also searched my hard drive for the notes that I had taken in college. Currently, my old notes are projected on the screen on my wall. There’s an optimistic part of me that hopes that if I make the formulas and notes bigger, I’ll be able to comprehend them better.
“It’s just stuff I have to do for work,” I say dejectedly.
“Oh,” says April. “At eleven o’clock at night?”
“It's eleven o’clock at night!” April had exclaimed when we came home from seeing a movie. We’re sitting in my car, pulling into the front of her mansion’s driveway. “My mom is going to kill me.”
“Okay,” I had said. “Well, I don't want to take up any more of your time…”
She interrupted me by pulling me into a deep
kiss. When she pulled away, she had a grin on her face. “I had a fantastic time tonight.”
I can’t give up – not when there’s so much at stake. I had gotten the girl, and I’m not willing to lose her.
“Yeah,” I reply after a long moment of silence. “It’s just this assignment.” I sigh. “Listen, I should probably go. I don’t have a lot of time to finish this.”
“I understand,” April says. “But you know, if you ever need to talk to me, I’m right here. I’d be a terrible girlfriend if you weren’t comfortable enough to tell me about your day.”
Girlfriend. The word brings a smile to my face. I’m still getting used to calling her that. She’s likely still getting used to saying it. That fact alone nearly breaks me.
“Thanks,” I say weakly. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
She tells me that she’ll call me tomorrow when she’s off work. I have a feeling that my work will never end.
I get to work an hour before my shift starts, hoping to catch Gideon in a good mood. I told myself, in a burst of optimism, that I was going to come clean. I would say what I overheard, and then I’ll politely request that April is removed from any list that involves the potential for election. Most likely, he’s going to laugh in my face – or worse, fire me. That’s okay. I’ll just go to the media and expose the corruption in the Bureau. It’s perfect timing, considering the reaction that I saw at the press conference. Of course, Gideon will likely laugh even harder at that – after all, I don’t have any proof. But that’s where he’s wrong. I have the computer data saved from his personal hard drive. It’s blackmail at its finest; and despite the pit that’s growing at the bottom of my stomach, I remind myself that I’m doing it for April.
As soon as I clock in, my first stop is the men’s bathroom. I don’t need to use the toilet, but I do need time to get my thoughts in order.
I can hardly recognize the face that I see in the bathroom mirror. Who is this person that I’m becoming? Six months ago, I’d never be able to imagine myself blackmailing people into getting what I wanted, and this is going to be the second time. Had I not followed April to her workplace, would I have cared the way that I do now? Would I have given any of the names on the list a second thought? I try to tell myself that I’m a person with principles – but when have I ever fought for anything? Have I gone my entire life standing for nothing?
But I have. I had worked forty hours a week and collected a paycheck. When that was over, I went home and played VR games. Before I met April, it was the same – day in and day out. For the first time in my life, I can change someone’s life for the better.
With newfound resolve, I walk out of the bathroom and make my way towards Gideon’s office. I don’t bother knocking.
“Gideon, I need to talk to you.”
“Yes, Morrison, I understand,” says Gideon. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence; and when Gideon turns his head, I can see that he’s talking on his Mobiroid. “I know things didn’t go according to plan, but it’s done. No need to worry.”
“Gideon,” I say again.
“You don’t need to raise your voice on me,” Gideon says sharply. He waves a hand dismissively towards me, but I’m not ready to leave yet. “Yes, yes, I share your frustrations. If I had a better way to do it, I would.” He turns towards me, before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Listen, I need to put you on hold for a second. The office assistant needs something from me.”
“I’m not a….” I begin, but I stop myself.
Gideon presses a button on his Mobiroid to mute the person on the other line, then turns his attention back to me.
“Listen, kid. If you’re here to talk about the election report…”
“I am.”
“Well, you should know that Finn already ran it.”
“Well, there’s someone on there…” I begin, but I pause when Gideon’s words register in my mind. “Wait. What?”
Gideon shrugs. “Well, Finn figured that it might get a little complicated since we’ll be including people that are outside the typical boundaries. It’s probably outside your realm of expertise.”
I take offense to those words. “I have a Master’s degree in computer science.”
I knew it had little to do with my qualifications. Finn decided to take control of the situation before I could get to it. Damn him!
“Well, it’s done,” Gideon replies briskly. “It’ll be released on election day. You can go back to work.”
“But…”
But Gideon is back on the phone before I can utter another word out. I have no choice but to return to my desk.
I’ve failed. Did Gideon run the report while I was mulling over my would-be confrontation? Did my procrastination cause my girlfriend’s inevitable death? Or was it done while I tried to find a way around the system?
I turn on my computer. Perhaps it’s too late to see if I can find a way to have April’s name removed. It’d cost me my job and put me in jail, but April will be safe. For that, it’s worth it.
Finn created a new log-on for me shortly after he told me that I’d be running the report. I use it to look up the newly run election report. I do a search on the last name of McIntyre, and my heart sinks when the name generates a result.
But it’s not the name that I thought it would be.
CHAPTER TWELVE
APRIL
“H ello, you have reached the voicemail box of Roman Irvine. I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave your name, number, and message. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks.”
I sigh, pacing the porch. “Hey, Roman. It’s me – again. I know you’re really busy right now with the election…” I wince at that word. “But I just want to hear your voice. Call me or text me when you can.”
I press a button on my Mobiroid to end the call and stare out into the lake. To be fair, I’ve also been busy in the last few weeks. Since school is over for the summer, I’ve volunteered to work extra hours at the coffee shop. While the additional money isn’t nearly as nice as having access to my trust fund, it’s nice to have additional funds. It’s also been keeping my mind off the election.
My thoughts are interjected by the sound of my stomach grumbling. Realizing that I haven’t eaten all day, I make my way towards the kitchen. But just as I pass through the dining room, I notice that we have company. “Dr. Gray?”
Darcy Gray, my mother, and Autumn are sitting at the dining room table. All three of them turn their attention to me as soon as I enter the room. Autumn’s eyes are red and on the brink of tears. The scene reminds me of the day my dad bailed me out of jail.
“I haven’t missed a single session!” I blurt out.
All three of them frown in confusion.
I continue, “You even told me that I was doing well last week! What the hell is this about?”
Dr. Gray narrows her eyes at me. “April...”
“Do you seriously think this is all about you?” my mother interrupts, her tone rising.
“I…”
“Of course you do!” she exclaims, slamming her fist on the table. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” I say sarcastically. “I was just having flashbacks to the last time you invited my fucking therapist over for dinner!”
“She’s my best friend!” my mother shouts, standing up from her spot at the head of the table. “I knew her long before you were born! Who else do you think I’m going to turn to, especially if my daughters aren’t going to have anyone left to take care of them! Did you even consider the possibility that Autumn might end up in a foster family?”
“A foster family?” I ask in disbelief.
“Well, I can’t raise a kid if I’m six feet in the ground!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I screeched, angry and confused at once. “Are you going through a midlife crisis? Is that why Autumn’s crying?”
The room goes quiet. After several moments of silence, Autumn bursts
into tears. My mother begins to shake. Dr. Gray clears her throat. “April, have you watched the news lately?”
I shake my head. “No.” The whole room stares at me, appalled. “You know I’ve been busy!”
“How can you not know?” my mother asks in horror. “Doesn’t your boyfriend work for the Divinity Bureau?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You should probably watch the news,” Dr. Gray murmurs. “I’m sure every station is covering it right now.”
“Okay,” I say, even though I’m still confused on what’s going on. Without another word, I make my way into the living room and turn on the enlarged television. I feel minuscule as I watch the words appear on the screen.
BREAKING NEWS: RALLIES HELD ACROSS THE COUNTRY AS DIVINITY BUREAU ELECTS FIVE THOUSAND UNDER MINIMUM AGE.
Realization clicks at those words. Someone I know is going to die. A list of names scrolls at the bottom of the screen – the names of electees, sorted by the last name. I wait for my last name to appear – and it does. Macy McIntyre.
It all becomes clear at that moment.
My Mobiroid starts blowing up around five o’clock in the afternoon.
One Missed Call.
ROMAN: Hey. Sorry, it’s been a crazy day at work. I know you’ve probably heard what happened. Are you okay?
Two Missed Calls.
ROMAN: Hello? Do you want to talk about it?
Three Missed Calls.
ROMAN: April?
He knew. Roman knew what was going to happen, and he didn’t tell me. That’s why he’s been avoiding me for the last few weeks. I silence my Mobiroid and remove it from my wrist before I can receive another notification. I spend the rest of the day hiding in my bedroom, crawled into bed. My mother knocks on my door shortly after Dr. Gray leaves, but I don’t respond. The chain of events leaves me feeling with an array of emotion: the shock of my mother’s imminent death, fear of the future, anger over the fact that my boyfriend lied to me – and the grief that’s boiling under the surface, threatening to pour out of me. She leaves me alone after that.