The Rainbow Maker's Tale
Page 5
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Pulling myself back to the present from my recollections of how I’d come to own the metal band I was about to put to use, I found myself standing in the small plaza before the Red Zone Library and Information Depository. The building had four levels and was identical to the two other libraries that existed in the Blue and Black Zones: transparent resin outer walls provided a clear view of the people milling about inside. Some were seated at workstations, some reviewing the information cartridges that filled the near endless shelves of the depository. In a nod to classical Earth architecture, tall Roman columns flanked the entrance. The columns were the only distinguishing feature of the building. They were modelled in resin with a tiny grey-black speckled effect running through it, to make them appear like marble – doing this only made the attempt at replication even more contrived.
Putting aside my gripes on construction materials, I trudged forwards. Plastic or not, this was the perfect place to get lost for a few hours. Wrapping my fingers around the familiar band in my pocket I casually passed through the main entrance to the library, listening for the distinct beep as the scanner read my mark and registered my presence in the building.
Once inside, I passed the assistants at the reception desk and made my way to the staircase at the back of the building. Springing up the empty steps, I kept going until I reached the top floor. It was usually busier here than the other levels because the information stored here was geared towards recreation and entertainment. I smiled to myself when I saw that many of the workstations were occupied, with a steady stream of people waiting to use them.
Perfect. I grinned and headed off in search of some data cartridges.
The queue of people reduced quickly and before long I found myself seated at a workstation with a stack of five data cartridges clenched in my hands. With a cursory glance at the occupied stations around me – as usual no one was paying me any attention – I reached below the workstation and began feeding the cartridges into the waiting slots. Once all five were securely loaded I loosened the ties on my school sack and rummaged around until I found what I was looking for at the bottom: another data cartridge. Pulling it out, I slipped the final cartridge into place in the data unit and then sat up.
Another swift peek around the room told me that nothing had changed in the ten seconds it had taken me to load up the machine. Everyone nearby was still absorbed with whatever was on their workstations and paying me no attention at all. Pulling the lightweight keyboard towards me I ran my mark over the integrated scanner and began logging in to the system. Once the initial login had completed, my fingers flew across the keys typing in a range of commands to activate the data cartridge I’d brought with me.
The screen flickered once – barely visible – as the program inside my data cartridge took over the workstation operating system. The camera built into the workstation viewing screen activated and began filming me. I sat as still as I could so that the images being recorded could be easily looped over one another to create the impression I was sat at the screen quietly reading. Allowing my eyes to flicker slowly from left to right over and over again, the camera continued recording me for three minutes before clicking off and switching from the live feed to the recorded images now stored inside the data cartridge.
First step completed. I nodded to myself as my fingers found the keyboard again. I entered the command string to begin running the second stage of the program, that would activate the cartridges I’d picked up from the library. It would begin slowly running through the various data files saved onto the cartridges; combined with the camera recording, it would give the impression that I was sat here, reading the contents. Five cartridges would keep anyone occupied for a good few hours.
The program began and I watched the screen as the first couple of text files opened before me. Nothing changed for thirty seconds and then the next stage of the program kicked-in. The image of the text files disappeared, to be replaced by the message OUT OF SERVICE in large white letters on the blank screen. This was the standard holding page that indicated a piece of equipment was not functioning and had been flagged for repair – the program code for this was a nice acquisition from one of my numerous excursions into Father’s office – and never drew any attention.
“Oh no,” I muttered softly as though to myself, but really for the benefit of anyone overhearing me. “This system’s malfunctioned,” I added, as I pushed my chair back from the now inoperable workstation that was running my hidden program behind the standard breakdown notice.
No one was listening, or even turned towards me as I stepped away and walked to the back of the room. Perfect execution, I thought as I descended the stairs and slipped the waiting metal band from my pocket onto my wrist. Even if my parents bothered to wonder where I was this afternoon – which I didn’t think they would – they would see that I was being as studious as ever, happily occupied at the library.
Passing back through the main entrance, alongside three others, I allowed myself a small smile when the scanning system met my presence with silence. The wristband did its job and I was free to go wherever I wanted. I could do whatever I wanted – safe in the knowledge that I was truly invisible.
My earlier conversation with Cassie was still distracting me, and I knew I needed some time to get distance and perspective. Instinctively, I headed in the direction of my second home.
The busier streets fell behind me as I made my way deeper into the residential avenues of the Red Zone. Taking the path between the edge of the zone and the full height wall that divided the Family Quarter from the Married Quarter, I saw no one. I couldn’t imagine anyone using this pathway to get home as I was walking past the back of the apartment blocks. The solitude was familiar. Being alone again felt natural…normal. Almost normal, I corrected myself. I could not ignore the odd niggling sensation that I’d felt since leaving Cassie in Park 17. This time I didn’t bother with my list of reasons as to why I shouldn’t feel this way. It was pointless telling myself lies.
The entrance to Park 42 was shaded from the bright light of the overhead mirrors by large trees that grew closely together around the periphery of the recreational area. Their thick, leaf-laden branches reached high enough that at pavement level they hid from view the expanse of rocky, rough terrain that stretched out beyond the secluded entrance. Crossing the boundary into the park I broke into a gentle jog, and turned along the familiar path that would lead me to the outlook.
Pumping my arms and legs rhythmically as I ran, I felt the comforting glow of warmth spreading through my body, that exercise brought. I concentrated on my breathing, slowly in through the nose and out through the mouth. It wasn’t laboured or difficult; each breath brought a new wave of cooling energy into my body that my mobile limbs transformed into fuel to keep powering themselves along. The release and freedom of running made me feel real – human even – just as it always did. What was odd – for me – was that it wasn’t the first time today that I’d felt this way.
Was Cassie really different to everyone else – or was that just what I wanted to see?
The question began to turn over in my mind as I continued running. The effect she had on me was certainly unlike anyone else, but that fact didn’t necessarily make her special in any way. Special? No – Attractive? Yes. I was beginning to recall why I always tried to stay away from other people: they only made things confusing for me.
My feet pounded onwards and my breathing sped up as I ascended the hilly path that would lead me to the outlook. For now I focused only on moving my arms and legs and pushed every other distraction away. I was already good at this, having had a lot of practice at keeping my thoughts to myself. By the time the path became very steep, and I had to slow to a halting climb, my brain was comfortably numb and blank.