Remember (20 page)

He crosses his legs bridging the gap between us, easy for someone over 2 meters. He returns the badge to his pocket while it lights through the slits between his fingers. "Having a governmental favor could help you out. As you should know, you're the primary suspect in the trespass of Dr. Mekova's office. Whether that is
indeed
the case, is
irrelevant
for the purposes of this
conversation
. If you were to be
convicted
, your life would become
much
more complicated than it already is."

How is my life complicated?
"So you are saying I'm going to be convicted of trespassing, if I don't help you get what you want?"

"You can think
however
you like. If you are interested, give this number a ring. You have 3 weeks to make up your mind. Otherwise, we'll never meet again."

He leaves a card and strolls out of my apartment, my apartment. How does he get that right? What am I going to do? Just pretend it didn't happen? Take him up on his offer? I'm left with more questions than anything else. Everything returns to normal. I’m not sure it really happened when the light flick on and the table appears near the door again. The only evidence rests with the blank card displaying a string of seven digits and a pounding heart.

Fri 6/9/17 11:47 p.m.

A:

Ready to start briefing 2 on mission 62.

R:

Ready. Has stage 3 been completed?

A:

Yes, scheduled meetings with target have been established. Currently it is at lunch break.

R:

Stage 4?

A:

Affirmative, medical info about the target Conor Abby has been acquired.

R:

Good, have suspicions been aroused?

A:

No, nothing can be traced back.

R:

Has stage 5 been completed?

A:

Yes. Conor has been given the provided code through his food intake. The code has been activated by a trigger. He should start having suspicions.

R:

Any progress on stage 6?

A:

The partnership with agent 2645 is working. Mr. Abby has been approached. The test is going smoothly.

R:

Stage 7.

A:

No. I have to add an issue. I was almost caught by the target, but recovered the op.

R:

Good work. Until next update.

A:

End.

A:

There is something I'm missing. Something about him that has them curious, but there is nothing there. I've seen his medical file more than a few times. Nothing unusual. No genetic diseases except psychological based on life experience. They rushed me into a messy, dangerous, and possibly compromising data retrieval all for what? Useless garbage? Just given me a few days and no one would have suspected anything. They needed it right then, a physical, verifiable copy, as if my testimony wasn't enough. They are taking a lot of chances with my life here.

Then trying to recruit him for an actual job? He can't do it. No question. I need the truth, now more than ever.

Mon 6/12/17 2:59 p.m.

I
look out at the passing meadow speeding by on my way to Prairie View — a neighbor of a few hundred miles. A big glass window to my left separates me from landscape. The isle runs at my right. The short ride ends with the train slowing down. I finally decide to get some convo out of Gary. Let me see if it speaks.

"Gary, how are your preparations going?"

"Good, you can never have enough. Just keep working." Gary doesn’t even look up with his reply.

"I'm all set. Are you enjoying the trip so far?"

"Um, yes, not much has changed from last time."

"What was the last time?"

"It was almost the same as this, just without you." Gary gets passive-aggressive at times.

"What do you think about the ride?"

"It is as expected. We are gliding on an elevated track at an imperceptible high speed."

"You seem to know a lot about trains."

"Yes, my granddad worked on the railroads. Other people tell me, he used to take me to see trains, when I was a baby. I guess it stuck. I've been interested in them for as long as I can remember."

Not much came of it.
"I don't have that many memories of my grandfather. I'm sure there must be some."

"Don’t worry about it. If it was important, you would remember, right?"

I change the subject to lessen my exposure to his condescension.
"Go on with your story."

"That is about it."

"What can you tell me about trains?"

"The usual stuff, trains are a super-efficient way to travel. Most of the energy used to accelerate gets recaptured when slowing down. The high efficiency has been created to deal with the long forgotten energy shortages."

"Oh, you mean before the successful use of nuclear fusion."

"Yes, government regulations have kept the pressure on to continue developing high efficiency modes of transport."

Just as an act of politeness,
"That is pretty interesting."

Gary goes back to reading over his research.

What awaits me at the conference? The native scientists show off their research projects. I go through my pad.

Gary wants me to do the section about methodology.

The train crawls slowly, now. Sure enough, the train enters the station, a giant glass bottle painted with waves. The train jumps to a stop and starts to clear out.

"Ready to go?"

"Almost there… Okay, all set."

We move into the isle. I lead the way to the exit of the car and look back at the train sitting flat on the ground without any wheels keeping it up. My tech says almost zero friction develops with a nanopolish of the train bottom and the track. A minimal electromagnetic levitation turns the friction further down and provides propulsion. We descend the staircase leading to the baggage claim. The bags wait at the booth with our seat numbers. We hand over our tickets in exchange.

"Where next?"

"Right this way. We have to wait for the green bus." Gary says. We wait at the edge of the street. After a few minutes, a bus pulls up. We get on and stay in the back with our luggage.

I look out the windows at a similar cityscape. All the buildings stand generic, with flat sides and a lot of projections. The above ground naturescapes of Mountain Overlook in no way compare to the gravelly alleys and grassy sidewalks of Prairie View. I look across at Gary.

He hides, completely immersed in his pad. "Everything is going as planned. Get off the train at the ocean terminal. Get on the green route. Arrive at the conference center."

He mumbles, but I answer. "Good to know."

"Are you ready for the conference, tomorrow?" Gary resumes speaking to me with some sham of attention.

"Looks like it. I'm just a little unsure about the timing."

"You
will
do great. Don't over think it, much. How are you doing otherwise?"

"Good, I just can't wait to get there."

"We're almost there."

"Can't wait." I keep looking at the presentation info. After the method section, Gary talks about how he recruits people for the study. We alternate through the rest of it.

The bus stops, we get off with a couple other passengers and cross the street to the hotel. The big building with two visible towers dwarfs us. Unlike the other towers, these have perfectly straight and flat sides. We enter. The first stop continues to be the main desk in the lobby. The lobby echoes empty with the exception of a three other silent passengers, few chairs, and tables.

"Welcome to the John Thomas Inn, the only historic hotel in Prairie View. How can I help you today?"

"We are checking in. I'm Gary Stephens and this is…"

"Conor Abby."

"It's good having you stay with us. These are your keys." He points out two key cards shown on the glass counter. "Hands, please."

We put our hands on the counter. The tech screens flash. The hotel features nothing historic.

"Would you two like some help with your bags?"

"You can handle mine, Conor?"

"No, thanks, I can manage."

"Right this way, please."

We follow the person at the desk (replaced by another) and accompany him to the elevators. He presses our floor, eighteen. We walk down the hallway, looking for our rooms.

"We have a few hours, yet. Any plans tonight?"

"Not really. I'm just meeting a few friends for dinner. You're welcome to come."

"Sure, why not."

"Great, meet me in the lobby at 7:30."

"Got it, meet in 1 hour." We enter our hotel rooms, mine just smaller than my apartment. I examine the room featuring no combination spaces, and end up at the normal wood-grained door. Basically, the room excludes any custom configurations. This resonance means historic, a relic from the time before nuclear fusion.

My situation starts to sink in. All this actually distracted me, for a while. What to do about the Agent's offer? He wants study info before publication from the computer system. I remember the key points, somehow. Does he want me to stall publication? How does he expect me do it? Move the data around? Remove it from the system?

Enough speculating, if I don't help him, what can really happen? He could get into my apartment, knew about the office, but didn't know much else about me. He resorted to threats just to make me help him. He thought my life was complicated. The government stands as one big organization. He might have the ability to affect the investigation. My life could become more difficult. Info enters my head about general legal procedure.

It doesn't seem that bad. After being charged, they allow me out to stay in my apartment. Trespassing doesn’t mean murder. After that, if they manage to convict, I end up in memory wipe and restore — my innocence or guilt proven from there. They can't make me guilty.

Mon 6/12/17 7:02 p.m.

I
prepare to meet Gary in the lobby and head out the door at 7:20. Good, time to spare. I look for Gary in one of the lobby chairs. He isn't here yet.

I wait looking over the info about Prairie View.
"Are you ready to go?"

Gary just stands there adjusting the collar of his button down. "Yes. Do you want to walk or take a go-seat?"

"How far is it?"

"Just a few blocks."

"We can walk. What is a go-seat, anyway?"

Gary chuckles for maybe the first time. "Come on Conor, keep up with the times. These are go-seats." He shows me a closet near the doors.

Inside, I see chairs connected to big single ball bases. With no controls, I connect with my tech for interaction. It looks like something I want to try.

"Are you ready to go, yet?"

"Yes, all set." We head out the door, turn left, and start walking. The decision of working for that Agent hangs around like a bad habit. What do I get by helping him — a little more complication? That doesn't sound bad considering the consequences otherwise, even doing stuff in secret. They can find anyone to do it, might as well be me.

What are the issues, if I do this? Lying could prove problematic. It remains a work thing. Like taking info and allowing others to get blamed. The Agency he works for will find some way to get the info — with or without me. It looks easy to do. I can always walk away, so I should think about it more, no rash decisions.

"Are you okay? You seemed far away for a moment."

"I'm fine. Who are we dining with?"
Really, dining.

"They are three of my friends, David Walcott, Sanathy Veena, and Sarah Mulligan."

"How did you guys become friends?"

"My father decided it would be a good experience… going to school in Prairie View. After high school, he got me into college here. That is how we became friends."

Harsh.
"It is good you still stay in contact."

"Speaking of dinner, here we are." We confront a restaurant called 'Masala'. It isn't just any other Indian restaurants. The place looks modern, not stuffy and traditional. We enter the restaurant which smells warm and interesting. Gary goes to the reception desk. A waiter leads us to a table by the window. Two seats are full, and three are empty. A waiter pours water for us, before we sit down.

"Hi, guys. This is the work friend I was talking about. Meet Conor Abby," Gary introduces me. They smile widely in turn.

"Hi, I'm Sarah Mulligan. Nice to meet you." A second quick smile. Sarah's red hair makes a statement with every layer tapering down to the hair line, edged in black (obviously a full utilization of the tech that inhabits the hair of everyone).

"Hello, I'm Sanathy." Sanathy chose something classic, straight hair on one side held back with a silvery rose comprised of sharpened triangles and broad curls on the other side, slinking over the shoulder.