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Citizen Gregory Michaels spent most of his morning trying to discover the whereabouts and condition of Claudia Laverock, but no one had seen her for several hours. The first place he looked was in the large testing lab, used for parts assembly. Progress had continued unhindered all night and morning, and now several devices were ready to receive the substance with dozens more on the way. Claudia was nowhere to be seen.
He cursed himself for not stopping her, for thinking that she wasn't being serious. According to the attendant at the front desk of the Inquisition building, Claudia had taken the elevator to the top floor the night before, less than a half hour after she had stormed out of her office.
No matter where he went, it seemed that no one had seen her since the day before. He even debased himself enough to find Dunlevy's office. The portly man invited him in with exuberance and offered him what turned out to be delicious coffee and pastries. Michaels managed to disengage after a few minutes of useless babble, but he emerged without any new information.
"Where does she live?" he inquired with the attendant of the main lobby of the Institute.
The man looked up. "Excuse me?"
Michaels realized he hadn't spoken to this particular individual about his search. "Pardon me. I seek the whereabouts of Citizen Claudia Laverock. She heads the-"
The attendant waved his hand. "I know who she is." He peered into a terminal screen and Michaels could hear the soft but rapid tapping of keys. "It looks like…" he squinted at the screen, "Citizen Laverock resigned, effective," a few more taps, "this morning. Her calls and responsibilities have been temporarily rerouted to…" more typing, and a startled look came across his face. "Oh! Well…" he pushed up his glasses. "Rerouted to you, Citizen Michaels, until-"
Michaels narrowed his eyes. "What, me? Why?"
The attendant shrugged. "It says you've been reassigned until project completion or a suitable permanent replacement is found." He eyed Michaels. "I'm surprised they didn't send you any notice."
They probably had, but Michaels hadn't gone to his office and had spent the entire morning trying to find Claudia. The attendant was looking at him expectantly. "Oh. Well, I, uh…" Michaels mumbled. "I've been very busy this morning."
The attendant eyed him and nodded slowly. "I see."
"Could you… could you tell me where Citizen Laverock resides?" Michaels asked.
"I'm… not really supposed to just give out that sort of information," the attendant said with an uncomfortable look.
"Just tell me; I need to speak with her." Michaels tried to keep the urgency out of his voice.
After a bit more coaxing, the reluctant man punched up Claudia's address on the terminal and relayed the information to Michaels, who scribbled it down on a small scrap of paper. Michaels sped off without so much as a thanks, moving out the front doors.
He emerged from the sterile white into the bright yellow glow of the midmorning sun. Squinting, he hailed a single-passenger transportation vehicle and passed the driver his Citizenship identification card, who inserted it into a reader as Michaels rattled off the intended address.
Working directly for the Institute gave Michaels the privilege of having one of the highest available Citizenship rankings, along with the benefits that went along with it. He received housing, food, cleaning services. He could request and receive any furniture or appliances he wanted. Any other services outside of the Institute, such as transportation, dining, and anything else, were taken care of for him.
He knew there was some kind of limit, but he'd never come close, as his life laid in his work. Aside from sleeping and the occasional book, he spent little time in his apartment and thus saw little purpose in decorating it. Even so, as the driver took him through the narrow streets, he realized that he couldn't exactly remember the last time he left the Institute vicinity.
"Here you are, sir. Enjoy your afternoon," the driver said in a monotone, uninterested voice. The more dull jobs, such as transportation, were generally given to lower-ranking Citizens. They were still quite well-compensated and enjoyed all manner of luxury as everyone else, but they usually didn't derive satisfaction from their occupations. Michaels ignored him and said nothing as he hopped out of the vehicle and hurried into the main entrance.
Claudia lived in a complex that featured huge, luxurious apartments, not under the direct supervision of the Institute. Private business owners were still Citizens and thus subject to direction by the Inquisition and Citizen One, but, provided they paid their dues and didn't cause trouble, there wasn't much need for oversight.
Michaels smiled as he recalled a situation where one of the apartment complex owners decided to try and edge out the competition by intimidation and even violence. The man disappeared sometime during the night, and it was thought that he would never be seen again. Later, it was discovered that he had been severely punished by demotion, reassigned to work in the sewage treatment plant. To keep the building managed, the Inquisitors placed one of their own people in charge of the building until a suitable replacement was found.
The Citizenship did not suffer disturbance lightly. Michaels remembered the burned beyond recognition body of Coleman lying on the table. He hadn't even done much to offend, and he'd apparently been killed. As he walked towards the elevator, Michaels vaguely wondered why he felt such concern for Claudia. For some reason, he thought that he would miss her if she vanished or turned up dead.
At the front desk of the apartment complex, a woman smiled at Michaels. "Can I help you?"
"Yes," Michaels said, "I'm looking for Citizen Claudia Laverock. Is she at home?"
"I believe so, but just a moment," the woman, a pretty brunette, picked up the phone. After a moment she said, "Hello, is this Citizen Laverock?" A brief pause. "Good afternoon, this is the front desk calling. There is a man here who wishes to see you." The woman's eyes flicked up towards Michaels as she listened. "Hold one moment, I'll ask."
She politely asked, "What is your name and business?"
"Citizen Gregory Michaels. Citizen Laverock is a co-worker of mine, and I wish to speak with her."
The woman relayed the information, eyes widening at what Michaels assumed was some kind of nasty response at his presence. A little flicker of cheer passed through him, knowing that she seemed fine and that he could still annoy her.
Then came a flicker of worry, and his smirk faded. Now that I know she's all right, what am I going to say? He winced at the realization that she would instantly know that he was concerned for her well-being enough to hunt down her address and travel across town to find out. I'll never live this one down, he thought unhappily.
"Sir? Sir!" The receptionist was trying to get his attention, and Michaels snapped back into reality. She looked at him as though he was out of his mind. "Step into the elevator; it will take you to her floor."
Her floor! he thought. She has an entire floor? How much of her allowance is spent on that?
The woman must have read the incredulous look on his face, as she said, with a pompous air, "The accommodations of the Tretton Housing Company are the finest in all of Haven."
Michaels still wore an astonished expression as he walked into the elevator, and the receptionist bid him a good afternoon as the doors slid shut. The car rose and stopped at the 4th floor with a soft ding.
Nothing happened, and a puzzled look crossed Michaels' face as he reached for the 'door open' button. Before he could hit it, the intercom crackled to life, and he heard a sharp female voice. "What are you doing here?"
Michaels jerked his hand back as though it were bitten. "Er, I… um… hello Claudia; how are you?"
"Cut the crap Michaels, why did you come here?"
"I was wondering where you were this morning; you left so quickly yesterday, and I-"
"All right, that's great," she said sarcastically, "now really tell me why you came all the way across town when there's so much important work to be done, and you're the one who's been assigned to f
ill in."
Michaels hung his head. "You heard about that."
Laughter rang in the elevator through the intercom, and Michaels briefly wondered, if by remaining inside, he was keeping others from using it as Claudia recovered. "Of course I heard about it. I recommended you to replace me. I told Citizen One you were perfectly loyal and had no sense of morality."
Michaels' eyes narrowed and ignored the jab. "You spoke to him?"
"Yes," she said, "Is that so strange?"
"Well, no, I suppose not," Michaels replied, unconvinced. "What did he say?"
He heard a sigh. "He acknowledged my objections and accepted my immediate resignation. He even said that he'd assist in finding me another place where my talents can be used for more altruistic goals." There was a pause as Claudia remembered who she was speaking to. "Why do you care anyway? I thought you'd be thrilled to take on the job."
Michaels stuttered, "Well, I… I am, I suppose. It's just that, you know, I was… That is, I've heard of things that happened to, you know… people. People who have said things or done things that…" he trailed off, grasping for a better phrasing.
The intercom switched off into silence and through the doors he could hear the sound of wild laughter. With a sharp buzz, the doors slid open, and he was greeted by a short hallway and the sight of Claudia doubled over laughing as she leaned up against the wall. Moisture formed in her eyes. Her face turned a vibrant red as she looked up into his distressed and confused face and collapsed into another fit of hysteria.
Michaels stood outside the elevator, which slid shut and traveled to another location. Irritation at the ridicule accompanied a scowl on his face as Claudia continually recovered, glanced up at him, and burst out giggling again.
"You… you…" she said, between gasps of air, "came all this way… because… you were worried about me?" She now stood upright looking disheveled, red-faced with her hair mussed. It almost appeared as though she had been crying, but the wide grin on her face and the occasional convulsion of barely repressed snickering made her mood more than evident.
Michaels glared. "Yes, I thought your insubordinate behavior would have reflected poorly on your… personal condition," he finished awkwardly.
Claudia, still shaking with laughter, responded, "How gallant of you. What did I ever do without Sir Gregory protecting me?" Her composure dissolved she broke into another fit of giggling.
Michaels angry glare deepened. "You know the stories! How could you be so stupid?"
She waved a dismissive hand at him. "Because he's not going to just kill someone for objecting. He was actually quite calm and reasonable."
"Really," Michaels said, unconvinced.
Claudia nodded, composure recovered. "He said that he appreciated all the work I'd done for him and the Citizenship, and he sent me on my way." There was a scuffling noise. She glanced around the corner and said, "Careful with that! It's very fragile!"
Confused, Michaels pushed past Claudia and finally noticed, directly in front of him, a huge bay window. They were only four floors up and looking across the street at another identical building. The view wasn't anything too amazing, but it was still impressive nonetheless. He looked around, bewildered at the size of the place, realizing that the receptionist was right. These were the finest accommodations he'd ever seen.
"You like it?" Claudia said, smirking at him as he moved into the kitchen and ran his hand along the marble countertop. "Cost me a great deal of my stipend, but I couldn't stand living on-site like that." Michaels bent down and felt the living room carpet floor. It was thick, deep purple in color, and incredibly soft. He heard the scuffling noise again and shot a glance over. In an open bedroom door, he saw a person putting items into a cardboard box sitting on the edge of the bed.
"I said be careful, dammit!" Claudia said, walking over to the room. "These things are fragile. Do not break them."
"Who is that?" Michaels inquired, following behind.
In the room was a blank-eyed female servant packing items into boxes. Michaels noticed there were actually several boxes sealed and stacked next to the walk in closet, which, from his limited vision, looked empty. Claudia gingerly grabbed a small porcelain figurine from the servant, wrapped it in foam, and placed it carefully in the box. "You see?" she pointed at the figure. "This is what I asked for. Be careful with these, and wrap them like that. Okay?"
The servant nodded and, under Claudia's careful watch, wrapped the next figurine in the correct fashion with proper care.
Claudia sighed and walked back out towards the living room, Michaels following behind. "They're useful to have around, but they forget specific instructions so quickly. And they're so clumsy!"
"Yeah, I suppose." Michaels muttered dismissively. "So you're moving out then? Why?"
She shot a glare at him as though she had forgotten he was still there, "Because… as a result of my resignation, I receive a demotion in Citizenship ranking. I can no longer afford it."
Michaels smirked. "Really?"
Claudia sighed. "Yes." She gazed about the luxurious home mournfully. "It's such a beautiful place, too."
"Well, you can always-"
Michaels' statement was interrupted by the shrill tone of the telephone in the hallway ringing. Claudia held up a hand to him, walked over, and picked it up. "Hello?"
He could hear the indistinct high-pitched twitter of the voice on the other end. Claudia frowned, and she glanced up at him. "It's apparently for you."
Michaels raised an eyebrow and took the receiver from her. "Yes?" he asked.
"Sorry to bother you, Citizen Michaels, but someone is here for you," he recognized the voice of the pretty brunette receptionist.
"Who is it?" he demanded, donning his accustomed irritation when interrupted.
"An Inquisitor, by the name of," a brief pause, "Parker. He says he's here to escort you to the Institute."
Michaels sighed. "I'll be right down," he said before putting the receiver back into its cradle.
When he looked up, Claudia smirked at him with her arms folded. "Duty calls?" she said, mocking.
"So it would seem." He moved, sullen, towards the elevator and hit the call button. He stole a very quick glance at Claudia, whose posture softened, and she absentmindedly chewed her lip with a pitying look on her face. The elevator opened, and he stepped inside. Just before the doors slid shut, a hand shot in.
The doors re-opened, and she stood there with her head down and arms crossed. She then looked up at him with an expression of mingled disquiet and annoyance. Michaels cocked his head at her and opened his mouth to ask what she was doing. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, causing his eyes to go wide and his mouth to drop open.
She stepped back, eyeing him with the same expression as before. He developed his own mixed bag of incredulity, confusion, and surprise as his mouth worked up and down while his brain desperately tried to find something to say.
She folded her arms again and sighed. "I do appreciate your concern for me. Just…" she bit her lip again, "be careful, okay? Lange's not the one you need to worry about."
Michaels, still wearing a dazed expression, mumbled, "Sure," as the doors slid closed and Claudia disappeared from sight.
With the lightness feeling associated with immobile descent, Michaels stood in the elevator as it passed to the ground floor. As it reached the bottom, his shocked expression softened, and a barely noticeable smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
The smile faded into irritation as he noted two men and one woman wearing the black clothing and the sharp expressions of Inquisitors. They stood at attention outside.
The lead man stepped forward. "Inquisitor Parker, at your service. We were sent to retrieve you, Citizen Michaels."
Michaels scowled at the man. "Is that so?"
The Inquisitor ignored the irritation and question. "If you'll come with me, you are needed in the Experimental Design testing lab."
Michaels sighed. "Fine." A few other p
eople milling around the lobby area stood far clear of the white-coated man and his entourage of Inquisitors. The receptionist wore a wide, frightened expression. Whether it was fear of Michaels for requiring such a large escort or the presence of Inquisitors, he couldn't be sure.
The thought made him wonder exactly why three of them were needed to bring him back, but he stroked his ego, telling himself that he was important. As they walked outside, he noted a couple of two-seat vehicles. Inquisitor Parker opened the side door of the car in front. It was much like the one he took to get there, but both were in jet black with the Inquisitor symbol in soft white on the sides.
Without a word the Inquisitor took off, and, in the ensuing short trip, Michaels mind hovered around Claudia and a certain little kiss, letting his irritation fade into a sense of satisfaction. The same hint of a smile formed on his face and lingered long after they arrived.
He didn't notice that the other two Inquisitors had not escorted him into the Institute or followed behind in their own vehicle. Absorbed as he was in his thoughts, he didn't even notice that the other Inquisitors hadn't left the apartment building.
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