The fallout from the incident went as expected. I was questioned relentlessly by the captain about what happened. He didn’t like the idea of one of his employees passing out after a short jog, understandably. But I did nothing wrong, and followed the correct protocol, so there wasn’t anything drastic that he could do. I was, however, very clearly placed on some sort of unofficial probation.
The captain filed a report with his superiors and soon the entire park was swarming with compliance officers. They searched every square inch of the park, sending every guest home without so much as an apology or explanation, and found absolutely nothing. Cicero was still reeling from what he saw. The same thing I saw when I was knocked out. The fugitive simply vanished. One big flash of light and she was gone.
Lucky for me, his confusion seemed to get in the way of his ire towards me, at least for the moment. For the most part, the excitement of the day seemed to distract everyone from my blunder, everyone besides the captain, but I did notice some sideways glances in the locker room before leaving.
Now, exhausted and ready for this day to end, I finally head for my apartment just as the streets of the Capitol begin to replace the natural light with an artificial glow that provides an unmistakable energy to the city.
Unable to afford to partake, and still far too uncomfortable in this foreign place, I decide to try and make sense of the day’s events alone in my room. I sit on my bed that’s barely big enough for one person under the stale fluorescent light. Somehow I managed to make my first day the most eventful day the post had seen in a decade. Finding and failing to catch a suspect in humiliating fashion, while simultaneously putting a target on my back for Captain Bismarck to take aim at whenever he pleases.
But despite that, my biggest issue is my dreams. Or visions. Or whatever they are. After today, I’m not quite sure what to think, but I’d love to know why it keeps happening all of a sudden. And the girl. Who the hell is she? Why was she at the park? And more importantly, why did I see her as soon as I passed out? And how the hell did she up and disappear like that?
The more I think about those questions the more confused I get, thinking myself into a nausea that makes me want to lie down and go to bed— but I can’t let it go. I need to figure out who she is. If I can track her down, I can at the very least make up for the fact that I lost her in the first place, and if I’m lucky, I have a feeling I might be able to learn something about my sudden propensity to pass out at the most inopportune times.
Also… I kind of just want to see her again.
I wake up to my alarm, still confused but with a plan. Or at least a concept of a plan. I need to find the mystery girl, but the only clue I have is the necklace and a physical description that’s burned into my brain. I need someone who’s much smarter than me, and with access to things I don’t have, to get anywhere productive. Luckily, I know exactly who to call.
Fitz has access to millions of records and surveillance footage that would be invaluable. In fact, he probably already knows about the case. Typically there would be several levels of bureaucracy separating us, but I’m confident he’ll make an exception. I send him a message to let him know I want to meet after my shift today and he readily agrees. But first I have to get through the day without another mishap. One more slip up and Bismarck will find a way to get rid of me, regardless of my status as an Academy graduate.
I leave for work under an overcast sky promising rain. I’d look forward to a blessedly boring day with no visitors, but there was a recently installed, state of the art, massive retractable dome that rose up from the fences and met two hundred yards above the park. It doesn’t make much sense to me why they would spend the money to build something so state of the art, but ignore renovations for the park itself. A golden canopy over a decaying circus. Regardless, people will line up to come in, especially if it helps them get out of the rain.
I manage to not completely embarrass myself when I enter the moving walkway this time and take pride in the modest improvement. I ride under the array of advertisements and colorful buildings, slightly less impressed than yesterday, feeling marginally more like a part of the city.
I dismount awkwardly in front of the park gates just as the first raindrop lands with a splat and leaves a small, shadowy mark on the pavement. I head inside, swiping my card and making my way down the depressingly dark hallway leading to the locker room. To my surprise I’m the second one here, behind Cicero who is dressed and ready to go, carefully sipping a coffee with a blank stare.
“Morning” I say trying to sound friendly. He glances up at me without moving his head, says nothing, and returns his focus to his drink. “Another good night last night?” I joke, trying to break the ice.
“She just completely disappeared.” He said while continuing to stare straight ahead. I guess everyone’s a little hung up on this.
“I don’t know, man. What do you think she was doing there?” I ask, hoping he heard something I didn’t.
“No idea, nothing was missing or broken in the time travel attraction.....she just vanished.” He shakes his head and takes another slow sip of coffee.
He seems almost depressed, so I decide to leave him be.
The rest of the men stagger in, none say a word, only Cleo gives me a wry smile. I expected more hassle from just about everyone, and the lack of teasing from my colleagues is almost more unsettling, though I imagine Cleo dissuaded Lance and Arlo from saying anything. The real surprising one is Cicero. For some reason the whole ordeal is haunting him, enough that I almost feel a little sympathy for him.
A part of me is actually glad when I hear that we’ll yet again be partnered together for the day. I don’t even really question the decision, although it is odd that we would be paired together after embarrassing the captain yesterday. We’re slated to be stationed in the Ancient Rome area today, the American West still being occupied by the Compliance detectives who are incredibly thorough.
We walk under the gray sky to our post, protected from the steady rain by the brand-new weather shield. There’s a faint but audible sound of the raindrops hitting the shield, like a distant drummer who’s wrists never get tired. We pass within sight of the main gate and notice that it is practically deserted within five minutes of opening. Odd considering the weather, even the morning briefing’s intelligence predicted an attendance surge today. Perhaps word of yesterday traveled fast and there was a fear of crime. That’s what we had been coached on in the academy relentlessly. Preventing public knowledge of crime is imperative because it will keep the businesses thriving and the citizens happy. People tend to overreact to minor disruptions and the precious cycle of profits to happiness to profits is threatened. Interrupt that cycle and you risk having the fabric of our precious society come crashing down. Today seems like proof of concept for that theory.
The day passes agonizingly slow without guests to provide some amount of comedic relief and with a partner who refuses to speak. I am so eager to see Fitz and hopefully get a clue as to who the mystery girl is. I’m also curious how his first couple of days went, no doubt more stressful than mine. It’s been a short time, but I already miss having a close friend. I spent so long early on at the Academy without person or place to go to with my struggles, and I don’t want to go back to that feeling of loneliness ever again. It was only one person, but Fitz is the reason I survived to graduation, and a part of me is afraid that our friendship will dissipate the longer we’re separated by the layers of bureaucracy surrounding us.
The drummer continues all day without fail. There are scattered visitors here and there over the course of the day but nothing of note happens. It was the exact type of day that I had dreamed of when I first got the assignment, but living it out was much less romantic. It feels like a waste of twelve hours of my life, until Cicero finally speaks up for the first time on our shift.
“You think they found anything today?” He asks, nodding at a group of Compliance officers leaving for the day.
“I’m sure they found something” I reply reassuringly, still feeling a modicum of pity for him. “They’ve got access to tech we don’t.”
“I sure hope so” he says depressed.
What is the deal with him?
I take a shot, not much to lose and frankly, if we’re going to be working together every day I’d like to pass on all of the moping around. “Everything alright Cicero?”
He stares at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowed just a fraction, analyzing me to decide if I was worthy of his trust. Eventually he broke eye contact, and his imaginary wall crumbled.
“What happened yesterday is killing me.” he says with plenty of frustration.
“Don’t worry about it” I say dismissively. “You weren’t the one that passed out. I’m pretty sure Bismarck already bought me a one-way ticket to the south pole.”
The attempted humor didn’t land. He shifts his gaze back to me and says with chilling sincerity, “You don’t understand. I’ve actually got expectations to live up to. And if I don’t, there’s consequences beyond what you can comprehend.”
Well that was ominous. I don’t feel like unpacking that at the moment though and I try to ignore the condescension in the remark. Looking at him now, so vulnerable, makes it hard to remember how much he reminds me of the people that made my life hell for so long.
Then he surprises me again, saying. “You shouldn’t take the whole thing too personally either. Bismarck is just your standard prick trying to make a name for himself. Look around, they can’t get rid of you anyways, who’s going to replace you? Besides, not like any of the rest of those guys would have caught her.
“Thanks” I reply. I sense an opportunity to find some common ground. “You know, I’m pretty familiar with the whole expectations thing”
He looks at me skeptically but doesn’t object, so I continue.
“I’m the only one in my family that got a chance at an Academy education. Seems like everyone else there was born into it, took it for granted. I’m the only one there that I know of who didn’t have a parent who owned an airline or a media empire or ran a division of the Knowledge Department”
Cicero nods in agreement.
“Every time I saw my parents” I continue, “I could see the optimism, the hope in their eyes. They thought I would be the one to take the family name to a new level.” I feel tears coming on and fight myself hold them back. I keep going, speaking more to myself now than Cicero. “I tried. I really did. But no matter how hard I studied I could never keep up. Eventually I felt like I was letting my entire family down, and it was easier to give up than to face the fact that I was a failure.”
Cicero sat there staring at me with a look of respect and I think I’ve broken through to him, at least a little. He’s silent for a long time, watching the last of the patrons filter toward the exits of the park.
“Similar story here” he says finally. “Family drama and what not.”
I shake my head and a thought enters my mind, making me chuckle. He looks over at me a little confused and I explain, “The funny part is, I essentially flunked my way through school, finished bottom of my class, got a dead-end placement, and my parents still treat me like a prince who can do no wrong.” I see a smile emerge on Cicero’s face. “I could never be a failure to them, I guess.”
“That’s where our stories diverge.” Cicero says. He’s silent for a while and then it’s his turn to amuse himself. “Did you say you were studying at the academy?”
“Ya, of course” I answer. His chuckle turns into a full laugh.
Why is that funny? “Sorry I’m not a natural genius like the rest you all.” I say defensively.
“You do realize that you didn’t have to study right?” he says incredulously.
“What do you mean?”
“I bet you’re the only person who’s studied there for decades. Those grades don’t mean shit. I never knew anyone to get less than a 3 unless they were subject to some kind of punishment.”
I stare at him trying to process what he was telling me. “Are you saying the grades are made up.”
He tilted his head back and forth, “Ehhh, made up might be a little strong. More like preordained. All you have to do is show up and take the test. Haven’t you noticed that no one has ever flunked out?”
I of course had been aware of that, but I always assumed it was because everyone was so smart. “Are you saying they gave me bad grades intentionally?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know the exact system, it’s not like they tell everyone what happening. But it’s a pretty open secret that the grades don’t mean much.
I feel a mix of anger, embarrassment, and confusion. Was my whole education a lie? I’m still struggling to gather my thoughts when Cicero’s watch rings the alarm to signify the end of the shift.
“Cmon let’s get out of here.” He says and starts walking towards the locker room. “Man.....studying” he says to himself and starts laughing all over again.
We change in silence. I definitely didn’t need that added layer of confusion on top of everything else. Cicero could be making it up to mess with me, and I’ve got bigger problems anyways. I’ll ask Fitz about it tonight, he would know about it too and hopefully could explain it a little better.
Most importantly though, I need to find that girl before the Compliance detectives do. I’m confident Fitz can help, and I walk out of the park equally excited to find some answers and vent to my friend. But as I clumsily hop on the walkway yet again, I feel a nervousness begin to well up in my gut. What if he can’t help? Or worse, what if he can and doesn’t want to? The conversation with Cicero is in the back of my mind as I’m whisked into the center of the vibrant city with the nauseating advertisements twinkling as the gentle rain falls on my head.