I lie awake in my white bed and stare out at the image of a beach that I selected for my digital window, listening to the artificial waves crashing against the artificial sand and hear the artificial seagulls and their shrill squawking. I had hoped that the tropical setting would distract me from the vision I keep seeing in my head of the endless plains of grass and the solitary glowing white church pointing up at the infinite blue sky. I was wrong.
I’m almost certain now that the visions I saw were as real as the girl I chased through the park and on those very same plains of grass. But how? The curiosity burning in me overpowers the anxiety I have about going after the mysterious thief. Finding my way back into the good graces of Compliance and Captain Bismarck is also becoming increasingly important to me. But most of all I want to learn why I had the visions in the first place so I can stop them from happening again, and move forward with the rest of my life in peace. Maybe I can even make a career out of this placement now that I managed to find a scrap of ambition, and this girl may hold the key.
However, as much as I run through the scenarios in my head, I find myself growing less and less confident in my chances of doing this alone. I would ask Fitz but he can’t help without risking his entire career, which is off to a much better start than my own. Besides Fitz I have no one I would call a friend in the Capital. Come to think of it, I have no one I would call a friend back home either, missing my entire childhood to spend it among my pretentious peers at the Academy. There’s only one person who comes to mind. Cicero. Despite knowing so little about him, our conversation earlier today made me reconsider whether or not I can trust him. But I don’t know if he feels the same way. I reluctantly close my eyes and will myself to sleep, excited and anxious to see what tomorrow will bring.
I wake to the sound of the waves continuing to lap up on the blonde sandy shore. It’s striking to realize that its been going all night, and yet the tide hasn’t moved. I turn it off to reveal the sterile white wall blocking out the world, and I can’t wait to get out.
Donning my third green jumpsuit, helpfully labeled “Tuesday” on the tag, I quickly wash my face before heading out the door. The stale air of the Capital is refreshing when compared to the suffocating space of the apartment that seems smaller and smaller every time I think of the wide-open plains from my visions. I hop onto the walkway confidently, only a slight wobble on the landing, and I’m whisked away to my third day on the job, thinking the whole way of how to convince Cicero to join me tonight.
When I arrive at the park, I find him once again sitting alone, still haunted by the escape of the girl. That bodes well for my chances. The others are mingling around as we wait for the daily briefing, so I decide to wait until we’re alone to broach the subject with Cicero. Luckily, I don’t have to wait long. Bismarck pairs Cicero and I together yet again and we head off to yet another cheap recreation of history, this time medieval England. Castles with deep gray walls like a rain cloud about to burst dominate this area of the park. They’re surrounded by moats filled with coins from dreamers who thought throwing their money away would bring them good luck.
We make our initial rounds and watch the castles flood with exhausted parents trailing overexcited kids and teenagers sharing an awkward first date. When we return to our post under the shadow of a tower’s parapet, Cicero looks downcast and I sense an opportunity.
“Still thinking about that girl?” I ask.
Cicero nods.
“Me too, I bet Compliance has a nice file on us now ” I say, trying to stoke his fear. I’m not used to manipulation, though I’m sure I was ignorant to plenty of it at the Academy, just like I was ignorant to the grading system. It’s unfamiliar and challenging, but I find it so rewarding when I see Cicero’s face scrunch and his skin drift towards red. This might be easier than I thought.
“My father wasn’t too happy when he found out” Cicero says quietly, while intensely staring at the ground.
“Well, what if I found a way for redemption?” I ask.
He turns his head, intrigued, but with a vaguely threatening look that let’s me know I shouldn’t play too much with his emotions.
“I’d be intrigued, as long as you aren’t screwing with me. I wasn’t joking yesterday about my family’s expectations. I don’t know if I can handle another mistake.”
“I’m not screwing with you, I have a friend in Compliance. He was my only friend at the Academy and he gave me an address.”
Cicero’s intrigue elevates to excitement for a moment before he stops himself and asks, “Why do you care as much? You said your parents don’t give a damn as long as you’ve got your job. If you make this worse they might actually fire you.”
“I can’t let her get away like that” I say. It’s true enough. In my head I’m thinking of her escaping in my vision, embarrassingly throwing me on my ass before disappearing. But if he thinks I’m referring to the park then what’s the harm?
“You don’t strike me as the adventurous type” he says, still skeptical.
“I didn’t think I was either. But chasing her woke something in me, I guess. I don’t want to be chasing petty criminals when I’m Cleo’s age. I’d like to at least try to make something of myself.” As much as I hate to admit it, that part is true.
“Did this friend of yours tell you anything else?” He asked, the skepticism fading now. I know I have him. I can already tell by the hunger on his face that he wants this just as much if not more than I do. I’m curious what his set of “expectations” that he refers to are. And I can’t get the idea that he looks familiar out of my head, but there’s more important matters at hand.
“Not much. All he said was she’d probably be gone soon, so we’d have to go after her tonight”
“Tonight?” He says, concerned. Why can’t your friend in compliance just get her?”
“I....gave him a clue that helped him locate her. But his bosses can’t know that he spoke to me. And he doesn’t care much about the credit anyways, he’s not concerned with catching petty criminals.
“You sneaky bastard!” he yells, but I see a smile laced with respect on his face. “You hid evidence from the investigators?”
“It was just something I saw. I forgot about it until last night. Some kind of necklace with some words on it. Fitz seemed to know what it meant.”
“Alrighty well I’m in.” He says enthusiastically. “Seems like there’s more to you than I thought when I saw your scrawny butt being swallowed by the briefing room chair a couple days ago.”
I don’t know whether to be excited or offended, so I just say “Thanks, we’ll go right after work.”
“We need a plan...” Cicero says, the gears in his mind already turning. “We can’t screw this up.”
Lucky for us, the awkward teenagers and sugar-high children don’t cause much of a disturbance, which means we’re free to shift our focus to more important matters. Cicero immediately starts hatching a plan with a decisiveness that catches me slightly off guard, but I’m more relieved than anything else. The execution is the part I’m most uneasy about. It’s the part that we botched last time. However, Cicero’s stereotypical Academy size and easy confidence seem to be taking care of it for me, so I’m happy to go along, as long as it secures me some answers.
Cicero details first how we can borrow a couple of the smaller soundwaves. They’re supposed to stay in the park at all times, but he assures me they’ll be easy to secure. Then we look up the address to get a layout of the streets and plan our approach.
The street name is notorious for being in the worst and oldest neighborhood in the Capital on the outskirts of the city. I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it mentioned in conversation, usually referred to with descriptions like “cesspool” and “the crotch of the capital”. It’s known to be the home of the lowest rung of workers, mainly in Logistics; plumbers, janitors, garbage collectors, and especially the unemployed and undesirables. People that the Central Authority couldn’t find a way to help, despite the efforts of the best society had to offer. The thought of going there makes me nervous and I have to force the negative thoughts down to avoid sapping my already wavering confidence.
The images on the Central Authority’s digital maps show run-down buildings and neglected infrastructure; the moving walkways don’t even make it that far from the city center. The still photos on the screen show vagrants milling about in ragged clothes, sitting on porch steps, wandering aimlessly with a bottle of booze, and scattered people asleep on the cold concrete, their pitiable existence frozen in a moment in time whenever the photos were taken. Watching the poor dregs of society is a poignant reminder of how lucky I am to have gotten the proper education, regardless of its legitimacy that was recently called into question.
The house itself is three stories tall and a green so faded that it appears almost gray. The roof is sagging rather heavily in the middle and several of the windows appear cracked. There’s a small, weathered swing on the porch that has seen better days. It looks just like every other house on the street until I see something intriguing. The door knocker on the front of the house looks exactly like the eye on the girl’s pendant. It’s a little fuzzy at this distance, but I’m certain it’s the same. I get butterflies in my stomach thinking about what kind of secrets could be hidden by that eye, and also because thinking of it brings up the girl’s face. Fitz seemed to recognize the symbol immediately, though it wasn’t of much concern to him. Probably an old crime ring on its last legs.
Cicero lays out the plan, which for all his bluster and talking just amounts to breaking and entering for the most part. The more he talks about it the wider his eyes get and he gesticulates wildly with every detail. I watch along passively and when he finally comes to the end he turns to me and looks as though he forgot I had been standing there for a time.
“Everything make sense?” he asks, practically panting with excitement.
I nod. “Seems simple enough”
“Good” he sits back down and immediately reassumes his air of nonchalance, bordering on arrogance, that he had on our first day. Better than the moping. I think to myself. It’s like a switch flipped him into action mode and then immediately flicked off. If that’s how excited he gets when formulating the plan, I wonder what he’ll be like during the real thing.
The shadow of the parapet slowly grows larger and larger, it’s teeth consuming us and passing the time like a medieval sundial. The bigger it gets the more nervous I am, knowing that the whole endeavor could be an ego driven catastrophe that costs me my career. But it could also save it. I’m worried that I’ll pass out yet again and let Cicero down, leaving him to face the mysterious ire of his family. Most of all though, I’m worried we’ll succeed in catching the girl, and I won’t know what to say to her.